Through The Looking Glass

I can’t upload pictures. [sob] This is because I haven’t upgraded to 2.7, isn’t it? But seriously, I should not be allowed to muck about with my back end. (Insert butt joke here.) I just want the version I have now to work, please.

In 2008 I:

• Blogged every single day
• Became a better mother
• Became a better wife
• Became a better writer
• Made a perfect pie crust
• Learned to love beer
• Was not always a good friend
• Did not write as much as I wanted to
• Could have lived in the moment more

In 2009 I hope to:

• Write more
• Live more
• Love more
• Knit a sweater I don’t hate
• Lose weight
• Get pregnant

I like Chia’s belief that however you ring in the New Year sets the tone for the whole year. It’s an old-fashioned superstition that I first read about in, I think, one of the Katie Did books. I plan to start the year asleep. 2009: the year of sleep. OH YEAH BABY.

All I am saying is that my first pet was named Beastie and I am not sure I want to do the sort of porn I’d have to with a name like that.

A friend of mine said to me the other day that she is “behind schedule” because at 34 she is not married and does not have children. The implication was that I am therefore “on schedule,” the funniest idea I have heard in a while. (Not funny-haha. More like funny-sigh.) Then I read this post in which Karen laments the fact that her graduate school friends have published books and her middle school bff is a successful fashion designer and she can’t even find time to blog.

So I wonder: does anyone ever feel like they are where they meant to be? (I had to use fucking html for that question mark, by the way. Can someone come over and pry this key off for me?)

I mean, here Will and I have been writing screenplays together for more than two years and we have barely three finished original scripts between us, one failed pitch, two rewrites that went nowhere, and no representation (but plenty of bitter taste in our mouths). I have started to write two novels in the last six years (omg six years) and abandoned both of them because I have no drive, no discipline, and no talent for prose. I am behind schedule.

On the other hand, I am 30 and I have one child. I thought I’d have at least two by now. Maybe I am just greedy, but this is not how I thought it would be. I did not plan to be so poor. I did not plan to be so fat. I am behind schedule.

But of course, I can’t have it all. Talk about greedy. And yet–why not?

Are you where you thought you would be?

I sat down to write a blog entry and my mind, it was a complete blank. The only thing I could think of to write about was how I no longer have a functioning question mark key, which is making my sentences all end rather abruptly. And now that I’ve said that, it sounds like I could have maybe squeezed a post out of it after all. Perhaps a list of questions written as statements, or something like that. I don’t know.

But that is not what I am going to write about! I asked Twitter for a topic, and the first response was from Yojo, who suggested I write about “what [I] would give [myself] as a present if [I] could.” I think you all know that my answer is “a baby,” because I am of a totally singular mind. Isn’t it annoying. Kind of like this question mark thing. Annoying.

In order to have an OK pregnancy I’d probably need to lose 30 pounds. Because seriously, I don’t think I can go over 200 on this frame, and I would assume that I’d gain at least 50 — I was close to it last time. I’m not sure how I could give myself negative 30 pounds, but you know. I would.

I would also need Chiropractic care twice a week (would cost at minimum $50 per week) and prenatal massage once a month (more would of course be perfectly acceptable) (around $60 per massage). Oh, and those goddamn horse pills (they run $25 a bottle, I’d need at least two). I’d hire a once-a-week babysitter so I can write, which has nothing to do with having another baby but it sure would be nice to finish a project or two before having a newborn around. And I’d buy approximately four dozen infant prefolds and a new sling. (You’ll note that’s all I’d need for the actual baby–it’s just pregnancy that’s kind of impossible right now.)

Oh, and five grand to hire a midwife. (HAHAHAHA. Five grand! Oh, my sides hurt.)

Sigh.

Alternately, I would give myself a nice jogging stroller. Because losing weight, while secondary to the baby thing, is really becoming a priority for me. My pants, they have all shrunk.

Tonight after I put Sam in his pajamas he pulled me down to a hug and said, “I love you.”

Remember how I asked for a new baby for Christmas? Well, I got one! Sort of. Will’s sister gave birth to a baby boy on Boxing Day. Yay! Now where’s mine?

We’re discussing a possible alternate reality in which a woman who once tried to become Will’s mentor (which is its own story, but not mine to tell) instead became his sugar mama.

Me: I could have been your Audrey Hepburn!
Will: Aww, baby. You’re my Katharine Hepburn.

Which now that I think about it makes him Cary Grant. *swoon*

Most of the kids Sam plays with are older than him, so I really have not seen much “parallel play” before. Today Crystal and Jack came over for a little while and Sam and Jack played “together.” I thought this photograph was hilarious — I hope you do too.

For Christmas, Will gave me sock yarn. I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I do have an entire drawer full of sock yarn already. But I did not have this sock yarn until last night, and I love it.

Sam didn’t get me anything, but he gave his father a 100 Movie Pack of Cowboy Classics, so I think we know which parent is his favorite.

My fingers are much better today, though it took me the better part of an hour to wash off the sticky stuff from five band-aids (or rather, five off-brand cheap-o bandages).

Sam is happy because a lot of his presents have wheels, which is, as everyone knows, the measure of a toy’s worth. He also got some of the coolest clothes ever but he does not care about them at all.

It’s been a good Christmas, and not just for the loot.