(Pardon the vague literary reference as the title) Well, other than the homage to my favorite author there, the title holds far more significance than one might think. It appears that husband-person, The Bee, and of course, little old me are all heading off to West Lafayette, Indiana, home of the Boilermakers. I must admit, it’s nice to be somewhere without the total football mania. It’s much better to be moving somewhere that’s at least named after a strong drink as opposed to a freakin’ nut. Actually, I think the whole Boilermakers thing pays homage to the town’s history as a manufacturer of steam boilers for trains. Still…
Husband-person went and interviewed at Purdue and spent a whirlwind day of tours and finished off with a great chat over dinner with the head of the department. Guess DeptChair saw the charming man-beast I see everyday and liked him. A week or so later he told him he was the top candidate for the position and now, voila! We’re off! To exciting, lovely, exotic…
Indiana. I’m swelling with pride.
No, I’m just swelled. More about the still unresolved baby weight gain issues at a later date though… One of the great things about working from home is that I don’t have to go through the nightmare of wondering what kind of job I’ll find when we move, how I’ll fit in with new co-workers, etc… That, in addition to working in my pajamas if I want and being near and dear to The Bee all days is something I treasure and value but on the other hand, I’ve been feeling lately that the idealistic vision I had of working during the day while Bee sleeps was… well… yeah, an idealistic vision.
I never realized how time-consuming babies are. Nor did I realize how much energy is necessary, from the moment she wakes up until she is safe and asleep. I’m still getting over my tendency to be a work-a-holic and every day, I’m like “yeah, I’ll work for an hour here and an hour there” until HP gets home and then I’ll just work for like 5 or 6 straight hours. Forget it. I’m so burned that by the time she hits the hay all I want is a beer and some bed. And by the way, that bed means like for sleeping you know? Because never mind HP and I taking time for one another… It’s one hell of a tough balancing act, I have to admit. Those who were baby-fied before me were like “there’s no way you’re going to be able to work as much as you think you’re going to be able to”… I just nodded and thought to myself, “yeah, whatever. You’re just not as driven as me or something.”
Wrong. I am pushed to limit, but in a great way. I just don’t realize how great it is at every moment, that’s all. Someday I’ll look back on these times and miss the Bee’s flailing, random screaming, refusal to eat in the afternoons, and more generally, her complete lack of regard for my schedule or intense dislike of vomit—even if it’s of that clean, scentless, baby-chunk variety that only a liquid diet can produce.
What am I getting ready to start bitching for? I like this. Before the Bee I was so incredibly self-involved. I got up when I wanted, worked when I wanted, etc. but looking back, it was all kind of a meaningless existence. I wanted to make as much money as I could so I could continue being a total tight-ass with it and hang out with HP. That was it. Now, however, each day is full. When I’m not being Bee-it-ized, I’m working, when I’m not working, I’m making time for HP, when I’m not doing that I’m sleeping. My life is full now. Too full some days, but if I had to go back and relive a day like I had before The Bee I would be bored senseless. I would feel like I was lacking or missing something. I think back to the day I found out I was preggers and how I was, to be brutally honest, a little devastated. Thinking back on that, I hate myself for it. All it took was some courage to face something new, to encounter a new way of living. It’s late and as if it wasn’t already pretty obvious, I’m not only rambling, I’m getting sentimental.