Approaching 31

In two weeks I will be turning 31. I must confess that I'm not where I thought I would be at this point. I don't have a clear picture of exactly what I thought (maybe that's part of the problem), but I can say for sure that this isn't it.  For one thing, I expected to have a Master's degree by now.  I don't regret not finishing my MA because of the circumstances that led to my dropping out of that program, but, still, it was part of the plan at one point.  It was the plan for quite a while, really.  But, I am unwilling to return to the program I left, and I'm also unwilling to move somewhere in order to pursue that degree.  An online program is out of the question, because music performance programs can't be done that way.  So, that's out.

I also thought I would be playing for a symphony that paid by now.  But, I'm still playing in a volunteer community orchestra. On the one hand, I'm sad that I haven't accomplished that goal, while on the other hand, the freedom to not worry too much about it is nice at this juncture.

I suppose a fair amount of the tension I feel about where I am versus where I thought I would be is due to the expectation that all the important things must be done, or at least started, before 30.  The currently famous concertising violinists are not much older than me, but they've been performing publicly (and getting paid for it), for at least a decade, if not more.  That means they started in their early to mid 20s.  And I am 31, playing for an unpaid community orchestra and on the verge of shutting down my teaching studio.  I barely play outside of rehearsals.  I could play more if I put forth the effort, but finding the motivation is difficult, and having a 17 month old who cries when I practice doesn't help.

And that brings me to my next point.  Nearly everyone my age has multiple children by now and they're all older than mine.  You see, you're supposed to start a family in your early 20s, too.  Or, if you don't, at least have a career to show for it.  And me?  I'm 31 and have barely started.  My friends with children the same age as my daughter are several years younger than me and have been married for less than 5 years (put together).  I will be celebrating my 10th anniversary in July.  It's a bit strange to be the oldest (or one of the oldest), when I've nearly always been one of the youngest.

This has all been on my mind lately as I approach my 31st birthday. I don't regret my choices along the way.  I am happy, though it may sound a bit like I'm complaining.  I suppose I'm in a transitional season righ now.  Maybe I will still complete my Master's in Music or win a position with a professional symphony.  At the moment I'm not even pursuing either goal. It's strange because I've been doing one or the other until about a year and a half ago.  Maybe in a few years I will resume the pursuit.  And maybe I won't.  For now I'm focusing on raising my daughter, growing Riverview Naturals, and writing again.  I guess the important takeaway is that plans change. Sometimes it's because of your own decisions or because of things that happen to you. Sometimes you let go of long held goals and pick up new ones. Sometimes you can even pick up a goal you had put down a long time ago.  And putting down a goal now, doesn't mean it can never be picked up again.

Too Much TV

Sometimes I watch TV shows and think that I should get into the same line of work as the character or characters on the show, particularly if they're making a lot of money. And then I realize that I've been binge watching Leverage and that what they do is illegal. Being a con artist might sound like fun in my head, but the illegal activity is a bit of a hitch, even if it does pay well. Oh, well. I guess I'll have to figure something else out. 

Shrinking Women

A couple days ago I was reading The Bloggess and she linked to this post on Momastery.  I actually watched the video (the one posted above), which is a bit rare for me. I tend not to watch the videos people post, but this one I did.  You should watch it, too.

I posted it on Facebook, hoping that it would spark some conversation.  One person liked the post and one of my uncles commented, and that was it.  I was a bit disappointed that more of my female friends didn't say anything, particularly the more feminist leaning ones.

I think the point here is important and timely.  The ways in which we as women feed ourselves and treat our bodies profoundly affects our daughters.  Our obsession with dieting and weight loss teaches our daughters to shrink, to absorb, to make space around them, and to apologize for any space they take up, especially if that space is any more than another girl or woman occupies.  This not only affects their eating habits, but their relationships with themselves and everyone around them.  This reinforces the holdover belief that women are inherently less valuable, less worthy, and only valued for their appearance.

Is this the message we want to send and reinforce with our daughters?  I don't. It is this message that leads to disordered eating, disordered thinking, pregnant women who feel guilty for gaining weight, and breastfeeding women who think they should be able to survive on 1500 calories per day.  Do you realize that the weight gain recommendations really only take into account the extra weight from the baby, the placenta, the amniotic fluid, and the additional blood volume?  It doesn't account for the additional fat stores that women's bodies are designed to lay down in pregnancy to prepare for breastfeeding. Did you know that a toddler is supposed to consume a minimum of 1300 calories per day?  It seems to me that a full grown adult woman who just grew another person inside her body and is now nourishing that person with milk produced by her body needs more food than a 1 year old.

As a contrast, I am weight stable and have been for about a year (prior to that I was still experiencing postpartum weight loss) and I consume at least 3000 calories per day.  I am still breastfeeding a few times per day, and that is the amount it takes for me to not feel hungry.  Either, breastfeeding uses a lot more than 500 calories per day (the usual amount cited), or I have a high metabolism.  While I have been working to improve my metabolic function for the last several months and have been seeing improvements, I can guarantee that my metabolism is average at best.  I don't think any adult should restrict themselves to 1500 calories per day.  Even if you're trying to lose weight, that is just not enough fuel for an adult body.  You might lose weight quickly at first, but you will also cause your metabolism to significantly down regulate, which will cause a whole host of other problems.

I wish that we were not so culturally obsessed with weight loss to the exclusion of all other pursuits.  I wish that this video would have been in my Facebook feed multiple times over.  Holly McNish's video of her performing her poem Embarrassed was all over my news feed for days.  It's an awesome poem and an important issue, and I'm glad she had such a profound impact on so many.  I think this poem deserves equal exposure.  This issue is more pervasive, more insidious, and lifelong.

Women, do not shrink yourselves as though you are unworthy of taking up space.  Fill up your space.  Fill it with laughter and joy and compassion and love.

(Im)Patience

Michael is out of town this week for work.  This is the first time he's been away since our daughter was born, the first time in several years he's been away at all, and the longest we've been apart since we were married. When he worked for the state he occasionally went to Boise, but that was just for a couple days.  He left early Sunday morning and won't be back until Saturday evening. Hopefully he'll be back home before Kaylin needs to go to bed, but, depending on delays and such, it could go either way.  I realize that I don't have a lot of room to complain.  Many people are, or function as, single parents due to employment situations, military deployments, divorce, and whatnot.  They go for weeks, months, years on end without steady backup.  But, I'm used to having an extra pair of hands, another lap for the toddler to climb on, another set of eyes to watch her and make sure she doesn't get into anything she shouldn't, someone to talk to so it's less boring around here.  By nighttime my patience has worn pretty thin.  Sleep has never come particularly easily to my daughter.  She is her mother's daughter, after all.  She still needs to be nursed and/or rocked to sleep.  Usually lying down with her and nursing her does the trick.  The last couple days, not so much.  And I get rather unreasonably frustrated that she's not just falling asleep in 5 minutes or less, as I would so dearly love. She nurses for a while, then she squirms and rolls over and climbs on me and flails and kicks and I start to get angry.  This happens sometimes in general, and I do find it frustrating normally.  But the level of frustration is elevated this week while I'm on my own. Not because Michael helps with bed time, because he doesn't. That sounds terrible, but she finds Daddy far too exciting and won't settle down for him at all. The only way he can get her to sleep is to drive her around in the car, and then he just has to drive around until she wakes up, or I have to make the transfer to the bed.  She won't stay asleep for him.  The only other option for him to get her to sleep is to wait until she's so utterly exhausted that she is incapable of staying awake any longer.  Then she'll crawl into his lap and fall asleep.  These are both less than ideal situations, so nap time and bed time both fall to me still.  But, the lack of pre-bed time assistance takes its toll on me.  Getting crawled on all day makes getting crawled on in bed at night far less cute and far more irritating.  Tonight did go a bit better than last night, though.  She was in bed and asleep before 10:00, so I'm calling it a win.

Revival

I've decided it's time to revive this space. I started it as a repository of my random thoughts. I made some half hearted attempts to narrow the focus, but my interests are rather varied, so narrowly focused blogs feel too restrictive. So, I'm returning to my random thought repository.

I've actually been meaning to start writing here again for a little while. I compose posts in my head while I'm doing other things, but forget about them when I move on to something else. I had a baby, and everyone knows that babies eat your brain. That's my excuse.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I actually have enjoyed my journey into motherhood so far. But, I'm finally starting to find more of myself again. The first year, while gratifying, is also a bit all consuming. Now that my daughter is exerting more independence and learning new things, I'm able to reclaim more of my time and things I enjoy. One of those things is writing. I used to write often. Mostly in notebooks. Sometimes poems. I haven't written poetry in a very long time. Well, I did write one poem a couple months ago, but that was the first in years. I suppose that's not necessarily a bad thing, though, because most of my poetry was written as a vehicle to express to strong emotions, usually of the less pleasant variety. So, my lack of poetry would be indicative of a sense of general happiness with life. I can't see that as a bad thing. (Yes, I did spend a portion of my teenage years writing angsty, and likely bad, poems. It is what it is.)

I used to write stories, too. Those were usually for school assignments, but I never had difficulty finding things to write about. By high school, though, they want analytical essays on other people's stories or research papers, so the creative story telling gets pushed aside. I guess that's partly why I went with poetry. It's short and compact in comparison to writing fiction. Anyway, I've missed writing, so I'm starting again.