Breaking my heart

The last week has been rough. Margie knows that baby brother is coming soon, and naptime and bedtime (and really any time she can't be glued to my side, except when she's watching Daniel Tiger) have become rough. They're not even battles -- she's not fighting so much as collapsing. She doesn't want to be alone. Her stuffies don't count because they're not "real persons". Choice quotes from this week:

"I only want to be with the girls." (me and her)
"I am so lonely when I am alone in my room."
"I don't want to sleep alone in my room because there are no real persons here with me."
"I'm just not sleepy enough to go to sleep."
"Mommy now, mommy later, I just want mommy all the time"
"But we can just have a sleepover here in my room, you don't have to put your laundry away."
"In my room I am lonely without a grown up real person."
"Mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy moooommmmmyyy"

And tonight, on the 3rd (4th? 5th?) time I walked her back to her room, we had a little chat, and it turns out she's worried about us being gone at the hospital. I mean, I know there are layers of recognition that she won't be the only kid, and that she will have to share me, and that Big Changes Are Coming. She professes to be excited about them; she told me the other day that she's worried that he'll pull her hair and that he will be mad when she does something without him, but when I asked if there's anything else she's worried about, she said, "No, I'm just excited to be a big sister." But I know that a very normal part of all this is her realizing that things are changing, our relationship among them.

Already, she knows there are things I can't do (give her a bath by myself, carry and throw her around, bend over to reach things on the floor), and I know that translates into her insecurity and worry. And she is simultaneously SO SO EXCITED for her Yaya (her former nanny) to come stay with her while we're at the hospital, and also - according to tonight's admission - feeling worried about us being gone. She asked me repeatedly if baby brother is coming tomorrow, and needed reassurance that we will not sneak out in the middle of the night and leave her alone.

As much as we really, really need her to sleep in her bed at least for the first few hours of the night, it's hard to chalk it up to willful disobedience or manipulation. I know these are real feelings she's going through, and especially with the lack of her normal routine of school and whatnot, things are all imbalanced. So much for that parenting advice to "keep their routine as normal as possible before and after the baby comes". We've been trying to keep a somewhat consistent routine, but it's hard while during the quarantine. I don't know what's going to happen when we bring this baby home, but it's definitely going to be hard.

At this point we're trying to make things as easy for her as possible. Trying not to let ourselves get manipulated too much, but also trying to do what's easiest and best for all of us. Trying to be gentle on the whole family with expected weirdness and in an unprecedentedly weird time. It feels like such a fine line between preparing your kid for big change and talking about it so much they get anxious. We felt like we were walking the line well, but she knows it's coming soon and now apparently at sleeping time it's all she can think about (you know, in addition to standard 3.5 year old bedtime procrastination).

Anyway. I'm due on Tuesday. Induction scheduled for Monday. This time next week, we'll be home with a baby and everything will be upside down in a new way. I'm sure we'll have all new sleep-refusals since she's already told us she wants to sleep with baby brother. But that's a problem for next-week-us. Tonight, we're wrapping up hour 2 of walking her back to her room every 5-10 minutes, reassuring her that we're not going anywhere and she's a big girl and we're proud of her for staying in her bed. Soon enough, we'll go to bed and bring her in with us and we'll all snuggle up for the night.

The Unknown

Yesterday, we unpacked some more bags from our quick trip to Tahoe. We baked bread. Made stock and soup. Picked flowers in the garden. Did laundry.

Today, we unpacked some more. Ran the dishwasher twice. I cleaned the stove. Friends went grocery shopping for us, so now we have fresh produce. Read this article about how coronavirus may impact pregnancy and delivery. Found it alternately helpful and terrifying.

There's just so much uncertainty right now, that even the days that are full of fun and lightness and snuggles and giggles and up with me in tears at one point or another. We've been taking really nice family naps and dealing with the "I don't want to turn off Daniel Tiger" tantrums, and spending time together in a way that is honestly a blessing, given that these are our last weeks as a family of three.

I don't have much more to say about how things are going in week 1, though I had lots of coherent and thoughtful things to say earlier when I was washing dishes. Funny how those nicely worded smart things just dissipate by the end of the day.

I have a Non-Stress Test and Strep B swab appointment, as well as a phone appointment with my doctor, tomorrow. I was supposed to have an ultrasound to check both the size and position of the baby, but they postponed that until next week. Why? Will has what may just be a cold/sinus infection (stuffy head/face, sinus pressure), but may be coronavirus (super low fever, dry cough and fatigue), and since his doctor has him in the "person under investigation" category and I live with him, they consider me to be possibly be an asymptomatic carrier. And given that, they don't want me coming in for an appointment where I'd be in close quarters, "face to face" with an ultrasound tech for an hour (vs the NST where they'd gear up and put the monitors on me and leave me alone in the room). I can't get tested because the likelihood I have coronavirus is too low, and tests are being rationed carefully. I agree that they should save the tests for those who really need them, and I was feeling preemptively guilty at the idea that I might take a test away from someone who needs it more. But it's still hard not to know, to be assumed to be a risk to others until proven otherwise, but not able to prove otherwise.

It's disappointing, of course, because I was really looking forward to an ultrasound as reassurance, and to help inform any future planning for labor and delivery. But I also want to prioritize the health of the medical staff as much as possible, and since there's no reason to believe there's something wrong (baby is moving a lot, and as long as the NST goes well tomorrow, we assume all is fine), it's safer to play it safe.

The unknown, the constant reevaluating and planning and replanning and trying not to plan at all...it's exhausting. But tomorrow is another day (I remind myself) and overall, the days have been going nicely. We're doing things, even if we're not doing all the things on my checklist. There will be time for that (I remind myself) when Will feels better. When Margie's not coughing so much she can't sleep well alone. We will get through the chores and the piles and the house will start to feel ready. Picking up baby gear from the storage will count as an essential errand (gotta have the carseat), and hopefully one of us will feel well enough to pick it up in the next week or so.

It's hard to stay hopeful, unless I'm just burying my head in the sand and pretending that this is all normal and fine, and I don't think too much about how long it will last or what will happen when the baby is ready to come. It's all ok living in the moment, but I'm a planner and we have some major changes coming. For now, I'll try to channel my inner Elsa (Margie would approve). This feels a bit too optimistic for my mood, but maybe it'll rub off on me.

33

Last night, Margie gave me the sweetest birthday gift of all: nearly 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep. She's started occasionally dropping her midnight feeding, which means that she sleeps from around 8pm to 4:30am before needing to eat. Now, she was hungry (so hungry) when she woke up at 4:45, but eventually that will stretch longer and longer, I'm told, and she'll just wake up ravenous at her normal 7:30am wakeup time :)  I fully expect her to wake up at midnight to eat tonight, which is fine. I'm following her lead and (somehow) cherishing these little middle of the night moments we spend together. But if her lead means that she starts sleeping longer? Ok by me. And if we plateau here, and eventually I need to sleep more, and we have to train her not to eat overnight? We'll deal with that then. For now, it's manageable, and I'm hopeful that the fact that she's done this twice in the last week is a sign of change to come. Wow, it's easy to get sidetracked by baby sleep talk.

Anyway. I turned 33 today. And I'm feeling more like giving back than anything else. It's a real shit time for our country, and I realize how lucky I am to be relatively sheltered from the mess. It's a position of privilege, to be able to look at it, read about it, and go back to my little life where not much has changed. I am very, very lucky. Hashtag blessed.

Between Planned Parenthood, supporting refugee families, rides to support the environment, and friends dealing with unexpected medical expenses (how is it acceptable in this country that people have to crowdfund their cancer treatments?!), opportunities to help are definitely out there. And I'm trying to make a dent wherever I can. If you can, I urge you to as well. Disqus (where I work) gives the option for employee birthdays to have an edible/drinkable item to share with the office, or a donation to the cause of your choice. This year, I put my birthday funds towards Planned Parenthood.

It's just little things - I still have a family to look out for, and I'm not about to win any philanthropist of the year awards or anything...but it's nice to reflect on what I have and am able to provide for my family, and give something to people who aren't so lucky. Giving is a luxury I'm glad I have.

Give to yourself. Give to others. Do what you can. <3

More changes. More feelings.

As the days of my parental leave dwindle away, I can't help but feel loads of feelings. Mostly guilt. Some regret. Some hysterical joy when I make Margie giggle or she just wants mama snuggles. But let's go back to the guilt and regret, shall we?

I feel guilty that I'm going back to work after only 12 weeks home with her, when I have 6 more weeks of paid leave left to use. I can use it within the next year, but why not use it all at the beginning? It's a choice I made, and stand behind (when I'm not getting emotional about leaving my baby for 9 hours a day). I love the work I do, and I am looking forward to being back at work. Heck, it's two meals a day where I'll get to sit and eat! I'll probably gain 10 pounds in the first month. I might even get to nap on the bus. But truly, I'm proud to work at Disqus, and I'm looking forward to getting back to business. But I'm sad that that means being away from Margie.

I feel guilty that there's a part of me that's looking forward to not being a stay at home mom. I used to think I wanted that; I thought I'd make a good SAHM and that I'd enjoy it. And I do. I just think I'd do better at 100% Mom Time if I could do that but *also* have a nanny or sitter a few hours a day. It's a long day to be home alone with the baby, and it's really hard. Like, way harder than I thought it would be. And with the whole not-napping-well-anymore thing, being at work might just feel like an escape. And I feel guilty about wanting that escape, and I'll probably feel guilty if I enjoy being gone.

I regret the things I haven't done. I had all these ideas that while on maternity leave, I'd send thank you cards and get the house in order (and keep it that way) and cook fun meals and take walks to visit Will at work and go to baby yoga and music and swim classes. I've done none of those things. I have been busy. So busy. My new parent support groups keep me sane, and I get out of the house every day to at least take a walk. But I haven't made it as far as Will's work (30 min walk from our house). I haven't done a single baby yoga class. I haven't made it to Aquatech baby swim time. I went to one music class because a friend canceled last minute and we were available to take her spot. This morning, we went to an art event to make some handmade gifts. It's not like I've done nothing. But the house is still a mess (my hospital bag is still sitting on the floor full of magazines and books I never read). I can count on one hand the number of times I've cooked anything. Caring for an infant is way more time consuming than I had imagined.

Anyway, I know this is all normal and I know I'll be full of feelings for a while longer. I'm taking a couple weeks off for our holiday travel, and I may take some time off in January or February as well. So I won't lose those 6 weeks I have left. I will make use of them eventually. And I know there will be time for fun things on the weekends, and I'll have a few hours in the evenings with Margie before bed. But man, this is hard. For now, I guess I just have to soak up the time I have and buy stock in Kleenex.

Sleepy snuggles after a long day of art workshop and mom group

Transitions.

As I type this, Margie is napping in her crib. This is not something she does for me; only for the nanny. Oh yeah, the nanny. I never thought I would be a person who hired a nanny; nannies are for celebrities and rich people, right? I thought so. But when Margie was about 9 weeks old, I realized that I was losing my mind a little bit, and I needed someone to watch her for a few hours once or twice a week so that I could write, or do laundry, or take care of myself a little bit. Plus, the thought of going back to work eventually, and going instantly from 24/7 Mom to Working Mom was scaring me a bit, and I thought having someone watch her for a bit might ease the transition. I found a great nanny who was available and affordable and she's been coming 1 day a week for a few weeks now, and it's great. She takes Margie to the park, and plays with her, and they get along swimmingly. Fatima, you are wonderful. And because we can't get into any of the local day cares (protip: listen when people tell you that you need to get on wait lists before the baby is born. make the time to check them out while you're pregnant. just do it.), it looks like we will be full-time nanny people when I go back to work. We're hoping to do a nanny share both to defray costs and to have some built in baby socialization, but yeah. We'll have someone caring for our baby while we're at work, and doing some cooking and cleaning as well. Which feels very bougie, but is actually more affordable than most day cares, and is certainly more convenient. I see a lot of value in both options, but here we are.

Anyway, today I'm treating Fatima Day as if I am working; practicing pumping throughout the day as if I was at work, and having her give Margie bottles, instead of me feeding on demand while I'm home and just giving a bottle if they go out. It's difficult emotionally - more difficult than I imagined it would be, I think. Knowing my baby is here in our (not-large) house and that I'm not taking care of her. Knowing that someone's giving her a bottle when I'm right here, and then pumping the milk out instead of feeding her myself...I didn't expect to be affected so much by this. 

Relatedly, I've been having trouble getting Margie to nap during the day. She'll only nap in a few specific circumstances: 

1. If she's just eaten and she falls asleep in my lap (and I let her continue sleeping in my lap)
2. If we're on a walk and she's in the stroller or strapped to me in a carrier (and she was tired when we started out)
3. If we're on a long car drive (above 30mph and she was tired when we started)
4. If Fatima puts her down for a nap in her crib

The concept of a Regular Schedule For Naps during the day, where I put her down and she falls asleep for a few hours, seems crazy. I know that at 12 weeks, she's still a bit young for that anyway, but it's still something to aspire to someday. If I try to put her down during the daytime, she wakes right up and cries until I pick her up. But I know she's capable of it because she does it for Fatima! And she goes down easily at night. Maddening.

Here's a fun little anecdote for you: This morning, Fatima fed Margie a bottle, put her in the swing for a few minutes, and then picked up the getting-sleepy baby and put her down in her crib. After a very short amount of fussing, Margie was out. I started pumping, and when I walked into the kitchen (which is connected to the nursery) to put the milk in the fridge, Margie started making little noises in her sleep like she was going to wake up. Fatima said "she smells your milk and she wants to be with mama." I put the milk away and left the room to get dressed and she's been out ever since. She napped for an hour.

So maybe it's good that I'm going back to work. Margie will actually nap during the day, and maybe a nanny can help her establish a regular routine of some sort. But it's strange, during this time, being home and not taking care of her. Listening to someone else soothe her as she cries (which, to be honest, can be both a tremendous relief and completely heartbreaking). Starting to turn my mind to working again, to writing, and thinking, and having conversations that aren't about babies. I am practicing to be gone.

I'm grateful to have had as much time as I've had (with a few weeks saved up for later), and for the opportunity to transition back slowly. I know how lucky I am to be where I am professionally, and knowing that I have a supportive company environment to go back to makes this easier. But not easy. And the guilt that I feel about looking forward to leaving and going to work (I'll get to eat! Twice a day! With both hands!) mingles with the sadness I feel that I won't be with her every day. It's been a special and unique time, and I can't believe it's already been nearly three months.

I look down as I type and see the small scar on my wrist from where I picked at the scab from my IV when I was in labor. I'm sure there's a metaphor here about how she'll always be with me even when I'm away, and of course I'm tearing up as I write this. I'm sure I'll cry a lot over the next few weeks, as I've cried for months from the combination of hormones and responsibility and love and exhaustion. Motherhood is no joke. Parenthood is no joke. I could write a whole lot more about the struggle to balance caregiving and career, and maybe I will. But for now, I'm going to run an errand, do some prep work for OrgOrg, and start putting the house back in order after a whirlwind Thanksgiving while a lovely and loving woman named Fatima takes Margie to the park.

Preparedness and Posturing

I'm much more aware of what I post on my blog in the months, weeks, days leading up to (and during) BlogHer. I know I'll have new readers, some of whom will stick around and some of whom will take one look and run the other way. I know there will be more eyes on my blog than usual, and I start to worry how it will be viewed - will people notice that I ramped up my publishing schedule a few months before the conference? Should I prep a bunch of stuff to be posted while I'm at the conference, so there's always something new for my new readers to digest? Will they realize this is what happens every year, as I get excited about the conference and become reinvigorated about blogging? Will they care?

Likely not.

BlogHer, for me, is an opportunity to find my community in person. I've written about it before, and I'm sure I will write much more from New York later this week. But for now, I'm going to try to stop thinking about what others will think when I finally get around to posting the four or five things that have been milling around my head...even if I post them all at once, and the day before the conference. Or even if I don't post them until weeks after, once I've uploaded the photos and figured out what I want to say.

Because I'm not a professional blogger, my blog is my own space. It is what I make it, and it changes. And that's ok. And if you're a new reader, starting to keep tabs on the new faces you're about to meet, or have recently met, hi. I don't mind if you don't post regularly either :)

Into the Words.

On January 2, 2015, I finally saw Into the Woods. If a movie comes out over Christmas, there's a good chance I won't see it for several weeks. Even when I'm practically peeing my pants to see the movie. Even if it's a movie based on my favorite musical. Even if I've read a crapton of things about it in anticipation, and am anxiously alternating between reading spoilers and covering my ears. Even then, a movie that comes out over Christmas will likely have to wait. Holiday travel, you don't do great things to my movie watching.

So. Anyway. I was excited and scared. And I finally saw the movie. And I have lots and lots and lots of feelings. Here they are, in order of how I freaked out, once I got over the nostalgic squeeing over a new interpretation of my favorite words and music. It should be obvious here, but this post contains massive spoilers. All spoilers, all the time. Do Not Read If You Do Not Know This Show And Do Not Want To Know. YE HAVE BEEN WARNED.

• [summary of text-argument with my friend Elon over the fact that they didn't show the ball and the inside of the Giant's house.] While it would have made for some spectacular cinematography, what happens at the ball is insignificant to the story of Into the Woods. The actual ball doesn't matter as much as Cinderella's reaction to it. (director) Rob Marshall doesn't need to establish her relationship with the prince or the fanciness of the ball - that's the point. We don't need to see them fall in love at first sight - the story takes into account the fact that we all know the story of Cinderella. Sondheim doesn't spoon feed it to us, because he knows we don't need that. Same with the Giant's house. We can imagine. We don't need to see it. I don't disagree that it would have been fun to see, it would have been "more cinematic", as Elon said. But is it integral to the story? Nope. Into the Woods is about what happens after. 
• I really missed "No More." It's one of my favorite numbers. Small, simple, but a truly lovely expression of disappointment and loss and growing up, sung between vanished father and abandoned son. I mean, it doesn't make a *ton* of sense without the Mysterious Man (and I appreciated the "No More" instrumental underscoring during the scene where the song should have occurred), but I think they still could have done it with the ghost dad situation. Don't know the song? Listen to it here.
• Speaking of...I don't know how they would have done the Narrator, but it's one of the reasons I encourage fans of the movie to watch the original (this just watch it just it's amazing). One of the great moments of the stage version is when the Narrator unwittingly ends up in the story, and how the characters deal with what happens after he's gone. I thought the movie did a decent job of portraying the "oh shit, now we're *really* alone" feeling, but it's just so. much. better. the other way.
• The princes were fantastic. Absolute perfection. "Agony" was a miracle of the cinema, one of the truest examples of why some stage numbers work better on screen. So, so, good. Just brilliantly executed. Chris Pine's prince was on point; I could watch him be the Prince forever. Why did they do away with the "Agony" reprise? It's so damn funny, and it just reinforces the "happy endings aren't just so" narrative in a way that having Rapunzel run away with her prince just doesn't. Both princes are cheating douchebags - not just Cinderella's! Which brings me to...
• Rapunzel not dying. Sigh. I don't know if this was a Tangled thing, and Disney didn't want to kill off one of their current princesses or something...but come on. The Witch's spiral into rage and madness is so much more powerful when it's triggered by the literal loss of her child. And Rapunzel's descent into insanity is such a great bit of character development, only further enhancing the irrevocable harm her mother has inflicted. Yes, it's hurtful and traumatic for her child to cast her off and run away - but for that to happen and for her to go crazy and then to die? Horrifying. Tragic. Final. That would drive the Witch to dramatic suicide, now that she truly has nothing left but her beauty - the beauty that couldn't salvage her relationship with her daughter, with whom there is now absolutely no chance of reconciliation. 
• Ok. So, I had read that Sondheim changed some of the lyrics in "On the Steps of the Palace" to make things more clear, to make it more present-moment or something. And many of the you's were changed to I's. But truly, this is one of the things I hated most. For example: "But then what if he knew who I am when I know that I'm not what he thinks that he wants? But then what if I am?" vs "But then when if he knew who you were when you know that you're not what he thinks that he wants? But then what if you are?" Not only is "am" a painful word to hear sung on a sustained note; the fact that she speaks in the third person throughout the song lends the number a sort of doublespeak. It creates tongue twisters and a sense of confusion. Haven't seen the original? Click here. Movie version here for comparison. I did enjoy the freeze-frame visuals in this number though...seeing it take place in present time, with the beauty of the sparkles frozen all around was ethereal and beautiful and a change I wholly support.
• Johnny Depp was an unnecessary hot mess. The candy in his jacket was overkill. His zoot suit and his growly whisper were more sexual and pedophiliac than necessary. He was one of the first actors announced for the production, and I get that they wanted a big-name draw, but I don't think they needed him. In the original, the wolf is creepy and just a tad gross-sexual, but mostly you just get the impression that he wants to eat Red Riding Hood. Because he's a wolf. Not because he's a pedophile. It's creepy because she's a child and he's an adult, but I always took the number to be about his sexualization of eating. He's getting turned on by the thought of his meal (both granny and girl), and the thing that creeps us out is that he's doing this seductive little dance number with a child. With Depp's interpretation, I thought he was trying to sleep with her. Which was just over the top. And the key change was gross. 
• And speaking of RRH and the Wolf, I could have done without that odd "being swallowed by the wolf" sequence. The first shadow puppet made me think of the beautifully-animated Harry Potter Tale of Three Brothers sequence, but then it turned into this weird Alice in Wonderland, vaginal, Magic Schoolbus atrocity. Very strange.
• I thought the tempo of "Your Fault" was too slow - maybe they wanted the audience to make the words out better? Might have been a combination of the tempo and the staging (which I thought was weird), but the number felt more like "we. are. singing. this. rhythmically." than "we are freaked out and this is frantic and passionate."
• The flashbacks at the beginning, during the "Witch's Rap" took away from the rhythm of the song in a way I didn't appreciate. I didn't think we needed the flashbacks to tell the story, and the pauses required to show the, interrupted some of the most comedic moments (especially the flow from "your father cried, and your mother died" to "and well that's another story, nevermind, anyway". It's such a great moment when it's timed right, and this just wasn't. 
• What the hell was with the "blue moon" thing? That threw me off.
• Meryl had big shoes to fill, but I thought her portrayal of the Witch was dynamic and powerful. I mean, it's Meryl. Duh. Really, Johnny Depp was the only one I didn't like out of the bunch. And I'm usually so fond of him! Alas.
• I loved the woods - the scenery was gorgeous. I love that they built a forest so massive that actors got lost on the soundstage. I love that they used real trees. I love how the forest changed as the movie changed. I loved how they filmed in a real castle, and a real dilapidated barn, and how beautifully they incorporated the scenery into the story. The woods was a character.

So there you go. My word vomit. I still have a lot of feelings and I could talk about Into the Woods for days (already have). It's an important piece of theatre, for many reasons, very well-articulated in this New Yorker piece. I love that Sondheim's Cinderella chooses to leave the ball for her abusive household, that she chooses to leave her slipper for the Prince to find, that she's torn between choices, and that she's able to acknowledge that her choice doesn't have to be her final one. But it's her choice. I love that the characters get their Happy Ever After - until they don't. This show is about parents and children and a community coming together, and loss and growing up, and reconciling our pasts with our futures, and the choices we make and how we deal with the lives we've chosen and the pain we haven't. It's an important story. And Emily Blunt was very eloquent about why we shouldn't try to protect our children from everything. Kids know things. Life isn't perfect. Happy endings aren't always. 

If you haven't seen this version, I highly recommend it. And here's a fun little interview with Meryl Streep, Stephen Sondheim, and Rob Marshall from the LA Times that you might enjoy.

What did you think of the movie? Let's talk about it. Now. Obsessively.

Unplugged

I've taken to giving myself little "unplug" challenges lately. It feels silly. They're small. It's things like, "Get to the end of the next block without checking your phone." "Don't check Twitter for an hour." "No email until you've gotten out of bed and brushed your teeth." I usually fail. Or if I succeed, it's very difficult.

In the past, I've made "disconnecting" a New Year's Resolution and a Goal and an Intention, and it's just really fucking hard. It's embarrassing how hard it is. It feels silly to even want to disconnect sometimes. Isn't this the future? Isn't there something magical about connecting to strangers and friends on the internet? Having the world at your fingertips?

I work in tech. I'm active on social media. I love the internet. I'm around technology, "connecting" (and yes, sometimes Actually Connecting) to people all the time. It's amazing how much of my day is spent staring at a glowing screen, my fingers micro-moving across whatever keyboard I'm on. Pushing the pain of what's probably some sort of RSI or carpal tunnel or worse out of my head to just scroll a little farther, read one more article, type one more reply. Ignoring the actual world in front of me so I can connect to the world that's far away.

This weekend, I'm challenging myself (again) to a No Internet Saturday Morning and Afternoon. (NISMAA?) I'd love to say No Internet Saturday, but I know that's just setting myself up for failure. Last weekend, I said No Internet Saturday, and I was on my phone before I even got out of bed. So this time, I'm claiming the morning and afternoon as an internet-free zone. I can catch up with the world in the evening. But the morning and afternoon will be spent without the phone, social networks, and email that clutter my mind and tighten my fingers. Less multitasking, zero open tabs to flip through.

But how will I fill my time? Well, I'll be getting a flu shot, gardening, and purging my closet. Taking things to Goodwill, doing laundry, and unpacking the Target purchases from last weekend. Decorating the house for Halloween. Baking. There's so much I could be doing, it's no wonder I don't get anything done while I'm so distracted by technology. I'm looking forward to some forced dedicated time away from the screens, to make some progress on projects and goals I've been meaning to get to, and to move my body and mind in a way that doesn't involve typing, staring, or scanning.

How about you? Have you ever done a "technology sabbath" or an "unplugged challenge"? Do you think I'll make to 8pm without the internet?

On Leaning Out

There's been a lot of talk lately about Leaning In, a concept made popular by Sheryl Sandberg's book (y'all know this, I'm sure). It's been on my mind again, since she was a keynote speaker at BlogHer this year. For the most part, I am all for it. Reading the book didn't teach me much I didn't already know about workplace inequality, the need to support stay at home dads, and all the other wonderful feminist things I've been fortunate enough to be exposed to. But I understand that for a lot of women (and men), her message is a wakeup call.

But I don't want to talk about Leaning In right now. I want to talk about Leaning Out.

I spoke on a panel last night about setting boundaries: "When Yes People Need To Say No". It's part of the Organization Organizers Rockstar Roundtables (a series of monthly learning and development discussions that I help to organize), and I volunteered to speak on this one because I felt like I was awesome at saying no. I considered myself to be someone with years of experience in this area, ready to coach eager pupils in the art of setting and sticking to boundaries. "Hell yeah!" I cried to myself. "I can't wait to lay down some truth about boundaries!"

It was only after we started the planning process that I realized how terrible I actually am at this. I'm a "yes" person. I want to be a part of everything. I am overcommitted. I am currently battling a gnarly cold, no doubt the result of going to hard for too long. My calendar is full, and it stresses me out rather than making me feel blessed and excited. The truth is that while I may be pretty good at setting boundaries, I'm not so great on paying attention to my bandwidth.

So for the rest of the year, I am going to say no. I'm certainly not going to say yes to anything new. But I'm going to start actively saying no, without fear of disappointing someone (or myself). Or maybe with that fear, but an acknowledgement that it's ok to disappoint people sometimes.

What would I do if I wasn't afraid, Sheryl? I'd start saying no.


Do you feel powerful when you say no? Do you say no? Are you a yes-person?