Eleven o'clock on Christmas night, while we are lying in bed, Conan asks me: "Do you want to have another?" Child, he means. This is the first time that he has raised this particular issue-usually it's me, thinking out loud with him in the same room. His standard response to my non-inquiry has been "I don't know. I'm still getting over the first time." The Governor's birth and all of its difficulties has made us very cautious about things, and we have been continually brain-fried from the constant gerbil wheel of work, parenting, and everyday life that "restarting the clock" has never received due consideration.
Conan may want a daughter. Like the rest of us, he is enamoured with my 2-year old niece. She is adorable and mostly even-keeled and I imagine the two of them will have fun in the upcoming years as he attempts to shape her into the next-but better-Danica Patrick. I may like a daughter too at some point, but we both know that you cannot guarantee the gender of any baby. We wouldn't have a baby living where we currently do, due to the cost of daycare and life in general being what it is.
But to have another right now and continuing to devote a lot of time and emotional energy to The Governor, my job, and keeping this house together would probably require a nanny. I can't see a nanny fitting into my life, and frankly for a very selfish reason: I am territorial about my physical space. Right now, it's a small physical space crowded with the remnants of Christmas combined with the four year old storm who litters Legos and toy cars in his wake. But it is my space-I share it with three boys right now, but I am not sure I am willing to share it with another person whose primary role is to care for my kids. Trust me, it's nothing against hired child care-it's about coexistence.
I have a difficult time sharing space with a 40 lb. dog.
But yet, it's not so simple either. Since The Governor was a surprise, we've been developing our lives and careers around his presence in our lives, and as he gets older we find that we have a little more freedom and have turned our attention to some of the things that make us feel-well, human. I've felt more comfortable in my skin since I've been exercising a little more and have most of my pre-pregnancy shape back (nota bene--I said "most."). I've been enjoying my work-related responsibilities. Conan and I have been working at communicating a little better. There is a little more calm in our lives that I've been savoring, which I think I desperately need in order to preserve my sanity.
So no more kids for now-in a couple of years, I'm still not so sure.
I'm sad that tomorrow my sister is returning back to The Lou. I've enjoyed having her here this week, and not just because she had washed my dishes and watched over His Honor, but because she's fun to be around. Also, being the extremely fit person that she is, she's motivated me to exercise-I haven't gained any weight during the holidays (so far), and I feel like I have a little more energy than usual.
I've cooked and baked quite a bit this past week, as my kitchen has become a more comfortable place to me as of late. But for some reason, dirty dishes keep on manifesting themselves in my sink. I've called Ork1n to see what the problem is, but they can't seem to figure out where these pesky things have been coming from.
I've been doing a lot of window-shopping lately. Men are more interesting when both they and you are older. You find certain things-personality, ambition, kindness-infinitely more attractive than physical appearance, and it can hit you pretty hard. I shouldn't be questioning people's motives in extending specific kindness, but I can't help it. I just wonder if I'm getting into that "mutual attraction" thing again. It was thrilling and wonderful and complicated and difficult at the same time, and I'm not sure that I have the energy for that again. I'm not assuming that it does happen to be mutual-it could be nothing of the sort. But establishing it in my mind as one-sided doesn't do much in terms of internal resolution.
However, this time the answers are fairly cut and dried. There are circumstances and consequences and factors that heavily weight towards the singular course of action of doing and saying nothing. It is not a bad thing to have these feelings, I tell myself. They are perfectly fine, and frankly, it's sort of fun.
Two o'clock this afternoon found me extremely giddy, bouncing around my office and grinning from ear-to-ear. Clients came by, bearing gifts and tidings of joy. I'm not ashamed to say that I was pretty happy about the gifts. I'm currently in possession of a limited quantity object that kicks major ass. What's more, it was procured specifically for me and then presented to me by a cute boy. Yay! I like my job.
Yesterday, Conan returned home from an errand to the walls of our quaint, split level home reverberating to pounding bass. The Governor and I were jumping around and shaking our asses to the tune of "Whoop (There It Is)." Conan's to blame for it all, having hooked up our stereo in our living room. My finding his old dance CDs from the mid-90's didn't contribute to it at all. That's probably the best part of motherhood-being elated at just the smallest things-which inevitably turn out the be the biggest things of all.
This would be a great gift for someone who is moving away from NYC. I always had one of those in my hand the summer I spent there. I would exit the 6 and head to my little breakfast deli and score a Greek cup of coffee and an egg and cheese bagel. Good times.
As I gathered my plastic utensils and paper-thin paper napkin I'd heard the greeting faintly, but didn't think it was for me. I'm such a space cadet-all I can do when I ran into my office crush was vacuously stand there in front of the microwave. I muttered something about a project that we were working on, but since I was trying to insure that my lunch didn't explode, my ability to form complete sentences was extremely impaired.
I'm just one of those people who "looks good on paper." I love email, since I can ponder over subtle nuances and construct sentences that actually make some sense. But for some reason, all of the speech competition events I attended in high school and having pranced around regularly in skimpy outfits in front of hordes of people in college just didn't do anything towards me making any remote semblance of sense when I get flustered. Or nervous. I stammer something awful.
I don't know how I got through spending a couple of hours with the Remote Boss yesterday. Happened to meet up with him, and we had quite a fun time talking about anything but work. It was fun, and my crush has morphed into appreciation, and I've decided that I want to be him when--or if--I grow up. But I was uber-nervous-and as is almost always the case, it was really for nothing.
Ever his mother's child, the Gov. currently has a fascination with cheerleading and dancing. He watched Bring It On one evening, from 15 minutes in to the very end. But who doesn't love Spirit Fingers? I certainly showcased my fair share back in the day--but really, I'm more of a high-V type of girl myself.
He's currently loving Making The Band: 3, which is the one where Diddy's making an all-girl group. I'm feeling a little guilty about letting him watch skinny girls prance around in skimpy outfits, but we have fun watching it. I think Aubrey is my favorite, but I'm not sure about Q. He might like Taquita, but I'm not sure.