Today marks the kick off of National Novel Writing Month - (ck out www.nanowrimo.org) and my real return to writing. My writer's group Thursdays@3 decided to participate this year - meaning each of us will write a novel during the month of November with the support of each other and the org/website that hosts the event every year.
Junot Diaz would be proud of me. It's what he urged me to do - take on an unspeakably bold goal. For someone with no time or energy, writing a novel in a month is a preposterous idea and for that I'm smitten. I have nothing to lose except feeling in my hands when I reach the 50,000 typed word goal in a month.
Today I logged just over 1,800 words (they say about 1600 per day to reach the goal of 175 pages) most written during Valentina's first nap. The rest after I put her down for the night, poured a glass of Merlot and opened a Toblerone. There is no time for perfectionism, editing, overthinking the plot, idea or whether I'm capable. There's just writing every single day for a month on a single project and sticking with it.
Whatever comes out, it'll be worth the effort because I never thought I could.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Valentina's 1st Birthday
A homemade heart-shaped banana cake with pink-dyed whipped cream frosting and sprinkles.
A few hours with a few friends at our neighborhood playground.
A tantrum and then home.
Just another day with my now toddler.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Gone Baby Gone
My monthly e-newsletter from babycenter.com says that the dividing line from baby to toddler is the one year mark or walking. Last week Valen took her first solo steps and next week will celebrate her first birthday. Its both exciting and sad to witness this passage. My baby is wobbling around upright, even more curious and excited to explore the world beyond momma's arms. I've been reflecting a lot lately on what this one year milestone means for me. I guess I should stop referring to myself as a "new mom" although most days I still feel like a rookie. The argentine custom for celebrating a one year old's birthday is to hold a pseudo-wedding with 100 or so guests, catering, music, live puppeteers and oodles of sugary snacks. We're opting out of that tradition. Instead, I've invited my friend Abril and Carolina along with their babes to a "party" at our small apartment. I bought a few heart shaped cake tins, some Winnie the Pooh paper plates and will play my best Betty Crocker for the afternoon. The next day we are going to a big Halloween gathering at the home of one of the expat moms from the English speaking playgroup. I'm not embarrassed to admit I spent two hours surfing Amazon.com for the perfect costume for Valen. My friend Wendy is bringing it down from the states this week. My friends from Schwab remember how crazed I got for Halloween dressing up. The fact that nobody dared relinquish their suits and perfectly coiffed hair on a workday in the financial district made it even more fun. I guess its fitting my girl arrived just in time to pair her birthday with my favorite frivolous holiday so I always have an excuse to don a wig, fake blood and/or fair wings.
On Sunday we celebrated Mother's Day (always the 3rd sunday in October in Argentina). Hugh surprised me on Saturday with a spa day and lunch with my best girlfriends Gaby and Judith. Sunday we went to lunch and the park with Valen and I got several gifts including a card of printed out best wishes from all the women on both sides of the family. If I were keeping a well organized baby book, the messages from my family would be the perfect bookend to this remarkable year.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Bikram in BA
The first bikram studio in argentina opened recently near our apartment in Palermo. They have a newcomers promotion to get you hooked – one week of unlimited classes for 55 pesos ($12US) so last week I signed up. I needed a break, an early mother’s day present to myself (mothers day in argentina is the 3rd Sunday in October – this year October 18th).
New rosa came in to work last week and quit. She found another job that pays her more and has her working less hours per day. Also, she doesn’t have to clean, only cook and look after a 5 year old. I can’t say that I blame her but I do blame her. Valen just got used to her and was happy to see her when she arrived in the morning. Just stopped crying when I’d leave to go teach a class or run an errand. So, back to square one with the search. In the meantime, I’m taking 90 minutes a day (plus 15 minutes each way travel) for myself to sweat and stretch.
Bikram is a controversial figure in the yoga world. The more commercially successful he becomes, the less yogi-like. His brand, and it is a brand is like mcdonalds. You get the same big mac all over the world. My first class here was an eerie déjà vu experience. I practiced bikram in san Francisco for a few years when I lived in the mission neighborhood. But it’s been 4 or 5 years since my last class. Still, I remembered the poses and the instructor here used the exact, and I mean word for word, phrases as the instructors at the mission studio in san Francisco. You can really tell they all train together at the center in la and are given a script.
"Lean back, look back, all the way back, sit back, eyes back, one more breath, change…."
bikram yoga is yoga bootcamp. Maybe that’s why its so popular in the us. The instruction is directive, confident, commanding and no wimps allowed. The second class I attended here, a young blond expat was taking a class for the first time. She reached down to take a sip of her water bottle in between one of the allotted water breaks and the teacher barked “no drinking water now, wait until I indicate it’s time!” she cowered eyes staring at her towel on the floor. will be interesting to see if it catches on with the laissez faire attitude of the porteno locals.
Still, the physical benefits are undeniable. The toxins seep out of me and the hot room is a comfort. The barking cues from the taut instructors leave no time for the mind to wander – that is what yoga is about – giving the mind a rest from restlessness.
New rosa came in to work last week and quit. She found another job that pays her more and has her working less hours per day. Also, she doesn’t have to clean, only cook and look after a 5 year old. I can’t say that I blame her but I do blame her. Valen just got used to her and was happy to see her when she arrived in the morning. Just stopped crying when I’d leave to go teach a class or run an errand. So, back to square one with the search. In the meantime, I’m taking 90 minutes a day (plus 15 minutes each way travel) for myself to sweat and stretch.
Bikram is a controversial figure in the yoga world. The more commercially successful he becomes, the less yogi-like. His brand, and it is a brand is like mcdonalds. You get the same big mac all over the world. My first class here was an eerie déjà vu experience. I practiced bikram in san Francisco for a few years when I lived in the mission neighborhood. But it’s been 4 or 5 years since my last class. Still, I remembered the poses and the instructor here used the exact, and I mean word for word, phrases as the instructors at the mission studio in san Francisco. You can really tell they all train together at the center in la and are given a script.
"Lean back, look back, all the way back, sit back, eyes back, one more breath, change…."
bikram yoga is yoga bootcamp. Maybe that’s why its so popular in the us. The instruction is directive, confident, commanding and no wimps allowed. The second class I attended here, a young blond expat was taking a class for the first time. She reached down to take a sip of her water bottle in between one of the allotted water breaks and the teacher barked “no drinking water now, wait until I indicate it’s time!” she cowered eyes staring at her towel on the floor. will be interesting to see if it catches on with the laissez faire attitude of the porteno locals.
Still, the physical benefits are undeniable. The toxins seep out of me and the hot room is a comfort. The barking cues from the taut instructors leave no time for the mind to wander – that is what yoga is about – giving the mind a rest from restlessness.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Sunday afternoon
Tomorrow is the first day of Spring - Dia de la Primavera. Today nature gave us our first taste of sun and warm air. So, we went to lunch with our good friends Carolina and Pablo (they left baby Isabela with Abuela for a change) at a local parrilla for 5 different cuts of beef, a rucula salad and ice cream for dessert. Valen got her first taste of chocolate and for awhile I forgot that my sweet sister just gave birth to her first baby - a boy named Anthony Nicolas Serrano who we won't meet until March next year. We skyped this morning so I could "meet" him virtually (they're still at the hospital) and chat with my mom, Aunt Sea Jai and cousin Elan who had stopped by for a visit. Today I wish we hadn't left. boo hoo
Happiness
Maureen Dowd posts an interesting column in the NY Times today about the declining state of happiness among US women. It got me wondering whether my girlfriends in the states seem happier now with kids or before (studies show we are happier pre-babies). Certainly moms complain a lot more than childless women though maybe its just topic based. My friends without kids kavetch about their bosses, stressful lives, not having enough money or the right relationship. My friends with kids all share a longing for more sleep and more time for themselves.
Last week I took Valen to the English speaking playgroup we attend a few times a month. I'd posted a request for a maid referral on the group site when we fired Rosa so a few of the moms wanted to know how the situation panned out. I explained that we'd received a great recommendation from a mom that recently moved back to the US and was trying to help her maid find a new permanent situation. Also named Rosa, she started last week and things are going well. I'd mentioned that the new Rosa is a better cook than the other. She's from Peru and likes to use fresh herbs and spices. Hello delicious ceviche. One of the moms (just moved to Argentina from NY a few months ago) looked at me with wide eyes and blurted:
She COOKS for you?
Yeah.
Like lunch AND dinner?
Usually, yes.
Then what do YOU do!!!!!??????
(This statement was loaded with so much vitriol and a mosh pit of other hateful sentiments (anger, resentment, envy, disgust, indignation, disbelief, disapproval) that it sucked the air out of me. Then I sputtered..
I take care of the baby...and I teach yoga!
I quickly realized my response was absurd mostly because I did not need to defend my life or priorities to some twit on the playground that demonizes moms with maids. So after a deep breath I followed up with:
Listen, this is why we live here.
Still I fumed about the exchange the rest of the day. Who is this person? Why are women so mean to each other? Why are moms in particular so damn critical? This is a woman who I've met on several occasions on group playdates. She seemed warm and down to earth for the most part. She'd chosen to give up a high paying career in NYC to be a stay at home mom but obviously she had her doubts. Was she happy? I don't know but she's not the only american mom I've heard from that seems to pride herself on doing it all herself - without any help. The martyr syndrome. As if any time for oneself while raising a child is pure evil. What - you hire someone else to vacuum your living room so that you can exercise!? What kind of mother are you? Fifty plus years since Betty Friedan's The Feminine Mystique and women still form their identities through housework and childrearing. No wonder we're so unhappy.
Last week I took Valen to the English speaking playgroup we attend a few times a month. I'd posted a request for a maid referral on the group site when we fired Rosa so a few of the moms wanted to know how the situation panned out. I explained that we'd received a great recommendation from a mom that recently moved back to the US and was trying to help her maid find a new permanent situation. Also named Rosa, she started last week and things are going well. I'd mentioned that the new Rosa is a better cook than the other. She's from Peru and likes to use fresh herbs and spices. Hello delicious ceviche. One of the moms (just moved to Argentina from NY a few months ago) looked at me with wide eyes and blurted:
She COOKS for you?
Yeah.
Like lunch AND dinner?
Usually, yes.
Then what do YOU do!!!!!??????
(This statement was loaded with so much vitriol and a mosh pit of other hateful sentiments (anger, resentment, envy, disgust, indignation, disbelief, disapproval) that it sucked the air out of me. Then I sputtered..
I take care of the baby...and I teach yoga!
I quickly realized my response was absurd mostly because I did not need to defend my life or priorities to some twit on the playground that demonizes moms with maids. So after a deep breath I followed up with:
Listen, this is why we live here.
Still I fumed about the exchange the rest of the day. Who is this person? Why are women so mean to each other? Why are moms in particular so damn critical? This is a woman who I've met on several occasions on group playdates. She seemed warm and down to earth for the most part. She'd chosen to give up a high paying career in NYC to be a stay at home mom but obviously she had her doubts. Was she happy? I don't know but she's not the only american mom I've heard from that seems to pride herself on doing it all herself - without any help. The martyr syndrome. As if any time for oneself while raising a child is pure evil. What - you hire someone else to vacuum your living room so that you can exercise!? What kind of mother are you? Fifty plus years since Betty Friedan's The Feminine Mystique and women still form their identities through housework and childrearing. No wonder we're so unhappy.
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