Defining Our Days

It is another day when the weekend blends into the week, when the line between weekend activities and weekday ones becomes blurred, when I am reminded that, when defining our days, all we can really do is manage the "what is" part of our lives...
 
I sleep late (well, later), because there are no kids to get off to school, but I dress for work.
 
I buy groceries, because there is an overlap of our free time, and you don't miss taking advantage of an overlap in that little Venn diagram of family life.
 
I work, because that is how it laid out this week.
 
I have a little less coffee, but drink it slower, because I am well-rested, but not racing.
 
I plan for the week, because we all must live by the week to come, even if my "week" has already begun.
 
I crawl into bed for my end of weekend sleep, even though for me, it is just another night in a series of days defined by the fact that they simply blend together...

A Few Little Things

The text that tells me if the bus is coming, or if I'll be choosing whether to wait in the dark or take a cab. 

The extra minutes to breathe, because baseball practice got moved just a little later. 

The stolen minutes of sleep, even if the laundry got started later than scheduled. 

The fellow parent, who assures me that the shoes I bought my child will be just fine. Really. 

The child who puts away his or her clean laundry on the first ask. 

The purple pen, that just makes me happy. 

The coworker who says "thank you," and means it. 

The hug out of the blue, and the extra one, just because. 

Sometimes, it really is the little things...

Getting In, Part 8: My Frenemy, The Mailbox

While I know that is still weeks before we will have a mailbox full of thin and fat envelopes from all the college application time and money we put in months ago, I unlock the small box each day, believing that I will pull out some good or bad piece of news. Almost more compelling than my ongoing wish to discover an envelope containing a million dollar check, this desire is full of so many emotions--concern for where my daughter will end up and how we'll pay for it, angst about how good a job we did with the lists and the essays, how the decisions will affect all of our self-esteem. And perhaps, most of all, the need for relief from all the limbo.
 
I suppose we live a lot of our lives in limbo--somehow, always waiting for information or opportunities we don't yet have. It can be debilitating--always checking the mailbox, looking around the corner, wondering what will be. So, while my current love/hate relationship with my mailbox will be over in a few weeks, the limbo of life will go on, perhaps indefinitely. And perhaps that is a lesson that both the bound for college and the way beyond college among us just have to learn.
 
It's just part of getting in...and of getting through.

Where Credit Is Due

To the woman who kept me from getting hit by a cab that ran a red light on my way to work--
 
Thank you, for reminding me that arriving safely is more important than arriving on time.
 
Thank you, for reminding me that things going wrong shouldn't make you let other things go more wrong.
 
Thank you, for reminding me that my family just wants me to get home, no matter what time it is, and whether or not I've earned money.
 
Thank you, for reminding me that we New Yorkers ARE paying attention.
 
Thank you, for reminding me to stop and think sometimes, instead of just rushing and worrying all the time.
 
To the woman who stopped me from stepping in front of that cab, as firmly as I would have done with my own children, who made it possible for me to get to work and to get home, and to remember what is really important--thank you.

The Me I Am (Another Installment In A Continuing Saga)

The me I am is still trying to reconcile the home time I got used to when I was out of work with the working time now that I am working.
 
The me I am is still trying to keep up with changes that seem to happen even faster than when my kids were babies.
 
The me I am is still trying to do it all, and realizing that it still just isn't possible to do it all.
 
The me I am is still trying to find new ways and try new things, but is discovering that new is not so simple when you're trying to do it all.
 
The me I am is enjoying new vantage points and new management of time, but is still challenged to see everything and fit everything into a day.
 
The me I am mourns the loss of the me I was, but tries to enjoy the me I am.
 
The me I am seems to be changing every day. Which makes me wonder--who is the me I will be?

The Me I Was

The me I was had other people pick up my kids, except on the rare occasion that I finished work early enough to be anywhere.
 
The me I was bought groceries only online or on weekends, as there were rarely any weekday hours for such endeavors.
 
The me I was lived with a clear split between work and home, with full trust in a sitter at home and full dedication to my work at work.
 
The me I was saw schools primarily on conference and event days.
 
The me I was couldn't ever figure out whether I fit better with the mommies or the nannies.
 
The me I was thought everything went along pretty smoothly...
 
As we, and our circumstances, change, often daily, we are probably never the me's we once were. We adapt, we adjust, we manage. And before we know it, we have become different people, with different schedules, different priorities, different emotions. And though we may mourn the loss of the me's we once were, we can also celebrate the me's we now are...

Spaces Of Time

Working in soaps bought me the dream of a lifetime. It bought me on the job training and days with creative people. It bought me a stable bank account and a studio full of lifelong friends and the envy of people I knew who worked in much less exciting jobs.
 
What it also bought me was a place where I could be busy, often nonstop, for hours. Talk to anyone in film who has watched soap production, and you will see the amazement at the amount of material covered in a day, and the rate of speed at which the production (and pre- and post-production) moves. It was, and still in a few places, is, a genre that trains you to think and act quickly.
 
While I probably walked in the One Life To Live door already inclined to think and work quickly, my skills in that area only got better, to the point that, both inside and outside of work, I was on overdrive, always looking to get more done in an hour, more done in a day.
 
That skill set has served me well working in news, where "getting it out" quickly can be one of the most important elements. It has served me well in other areas, where picking up new programs quickly is essential, or where culling through large amounts of footage would otherwise bury me. The only place, in fact, where it has not served me, is in the waiting game. Whether it is waiting for a response, or waiting for footage, or waiting for the next project, I am practically hard-wired to stay in motion, making the sitting and waiting unbelievably difficult. I'm used to moving forward, so it hurts to stand still. I'm used to generating fifty-plus shot scenes or an hour-long edited show in a day, so it makes me twitch to be left hanging.
 
There is nothing wrong with the training I received. For the long haul, I suspect it will allow me to accomplish more than I would have otherwise in my work and in my life. Sometimes, I guess I just need to put that training aside--to accept that the world won't always move that quickly. That information and progress won't always happen in a steady stream. So that, if I am to survive, I need to use the time, but also accept and appreciate the spaces of time along the way.