24 January 2010
Wow. Who knew that writing about babies would bring so many to the conversation? Thanks for the validation, y'all. I mean, I know my path is right for me, but I get so much negative feedback in the world outside the computer about being childless that I forget sometimes that there are plenty others who feel as I do.
Last night, I went out to dinner with my in-laws to celebrate DH's birthday. I was thinking about the baby stuff again, because no sooner was our party seated than another large table right next to us was also seated with 3 kids all under the age of two. Baby-baby, a 1 year old, and the oldest wasn't, I think, older than about 18 months. DH and I commenced with the eye-rolling immediately; dinner with his family has its own set of...um.... interesting fallout, and 3 screaming kids don't add good things to that already awkward ambiance. I ordered a second drink.
But my worries were for naught, all of the parents looked after their charges and it was early enough in the evening that no one was falling asleep at the table or having a meltdown because they were hungry. Plus everyone at our table mostly behaved, so that was a good thing too.
What I set out to write about today, though, was a bitching about the weather post. It is January, it is Ohio, it is cold, grey, overcast, and raining. Not news. Also? Bo-ring. I'd rather have the snow, honestly. When it snows, the world is enveloped in white silence, a hush that quiets the traffic and blankets the world with a pretty new coat. Everything looks clean, white-washed. When the snow melts, and it is too warm to snow, we get this super-ugly dingy greyness to everything. No surprise, I don't like it much. I'm thinking of my parents in Florida with envy in my heart; "winter" there means that it might get around 4o at night. Although they did have that long cold snap this year, so perhaps there are places where it is worse to be than grey Ohio at the moment.
Like, um, Haiti?
How incredibly useless it feels to just donate some money to the cause. I've done that, given to both the Red Cross and MSF, but I'd like to do more. Sadly, I don't speak French or Creole, and would therefore be useless as a translator; I have no disaster recovery skills, no search and rescue skills, no medical training, nothing to offer to the relief effort other than money, so that's what I've done.
The Yarn Harlot has been keeping track of her readers who have donated to MSF by way of having them send her an e-mail with their donation amount, and I'm astonished to read today that the amount is over 1 million now. Right before the earthquake, it was around 500 or 600K, so that's pretty impressive in a week's time.
How sadly arrogant, then, to be whining about the weather and the cold when I have a roof over my head, enough food to eat, and your basic 1st world complaints? Clean water? Turn on the tap at any sink in the house and I've got that. Sanitation? I pay a monthly bill for that, and when the toilet flushes or the washing machine drains, I don't have to think about cleaning up waste water. Food? The mega-mart two miles from my house has more food on its shelves than many will see in their entire lives.
You hear that? It's the world's smallest violin playing "my heart cries for you, pampered princess".
Someone asked recently if I'll be talking about what I do for a living when I take Well-Behaved private next month. I don't know. I'm so afraid to do that; right now for fear that my employer wouldn't like my writings about work (see: Armstrong, Heather: dooced) when this is public. If it goes private, though, theoretically the employer would never see it. The thing is that once something is out on teh intertubes, it is no longer private at all. If you don't want the world to know, what the hell are you doing writing an online journal any way? Along the same line, will I stop writing as Lucy and use my real name? Hm. There's a lot left to decide.
Right now, though, I've been informed that BBC America is showing a Top Gear marathon this afternoon, so I'm going to drink hot cocoa, sit in front of the telly, knit, and get the laundry done. Such an exciting life.