I am tired.

I tried to think of some cute title for this post, but that seemed like a lot of work, so I gave up. I considered "Yes, I'm still alive" and "Yes, I still have a blog and I remembered the login" and "Hey, mom, here's that post you've been waiting for," but in the end I just went with something simple and true.

Last Friday was my worst travel experience ever, of any kind, and that includes the time I went to St. Louis and got a cab that the driver had to start with a hammer. Somewhere in hour three of the six-hour drive my colleague and I made from Charlotte, NC to Nashville, TN in our desperate bid to get home to Illinois, I started seriously questioning my career choice. And when I had to walk into class after my epic journey without even going home first, wearing clean socks and a clean t-shirt brought to me in the parking lot by my wonderful husband and child, I started seriously questioning my school choice. I have gotten over all this serious questioning, but am left feeling very overwhelmed, very tired, very inadequate as a spouse and mother and very uncertain of how to get myself out of this in one piece.

In case anyone I work with or for has happened to notice that I have a blog, and has somehow found it, I would like to be clear that I do, most of the time, like my job, and I do think I am basically good at it. But the amount of work has reached a critical mass that makes me feel like I'm not doing as well as I could at any of it, and I find that very frustrating. I like to be really good at things. I am a little weary of spending my days running from one meeting to the next, each about a different topic, throwing in a few business trips, trying to get homework done to some reasonable standard and still do a decent job of just being married, being a mom and occasionally cooking food or cleaning the bathroom.

One day last week, I had eight meetings. Eight. And I had a trip the next day (the fateful trip to NC), and I wasn't near being done with what I needed to do, and B had to work late because I was going to be gone the next two days and he wasn't going to get another chance. So I did the only thing I could think of, which is pick the kid up from school and take her back to work with me, at 6:30, so that I could finish my stuff. And she was beautifully well-behaved, wonderful in every way, as usual. But I felt like utter crap about it. I was getting ready to be gone for two days and I couldn't even spend some nice time with my kid watching Looney Tunes or building Legos or who knows what. She sat in a chair in my tiny cube and watched me work while she ate goldfish crackers.

So I went on the trip, then ran into travel insanity, and found myself finishing my homework for school while balancing my laptop on my knees while my colleague was driving to Nashville. I emailed the sorry thing to the professor at midnight that night when we finally got to the hotel. Thank goodness he was very understanding and didn't make me try to present my work after I stumbled into class 3 hours late, having flown in Saturday morning and driven straight to school. He even let me resubmit my homework so I could look it over to be sure it was coherent.

Yesterday was Father's Day, and while B said he had a great day, I wished I could have gotten it together to do more for him. He's been pulling all the weight at home lately, and he never complains or questions any of my travel or homework or anything. He just adjusts his schedule and makes things work, and even knows how to do ponytails so he can do Hannah's hair when I'm not home. He is wonderful. He is amazing. And I wanted to do something really great to show him how much every single thing he does means to me, and I couldn't get it together. I got him a t-shirt. He said, "Well, you've been busy." Which is true. But is it an excuse?

Then today at work was insane again, and I am just tired. And I have another trip Wednesday to Thursday. At least class is over on Saturday and I have the rest of the summer off. Let's not talk about the final project that's due in 5 days that I haven't even started...I guess that's what the plane ride is for.

But I have officially hit the wall. I am trying to do too much. And yeah, I get the next two months off from school, but what am I going to do in September when it all starts up again?

Evil peanuts

Even though I typically prefer NEWSWEEK over Time, this is a pretty good article on all the fuss over peanut allergies.

I am a bit peeved by the people who seem to think "all the fuss" is just a bunch of parents overreacting and making it unnecessarily challenging for other people's kids to eat peanut butter sandwiches, but if you're going to have a balanced report, it does mean you have to let both sides have their say.

We have always tried to strike a good balance between being appropriately freaked-out by, and simultaneously reasonable about, Hannah's peanut allergy. We don't have peanuts at home, and we are really good at reading food labels. We picked a preschool that was consciously peanut-free and doesn't allow kids to bring food from home, so we're minimizing risk wherever we can. But we let her eat the cake at kids' birthday parties, and we eat out at restaurants all the time without creating a scene about what's in every single dish. (Besides, nothing on any kids' menu in any restaurant is very likely to have nuts in it, because it's all grilled cheese sandwiches, mac 'n' cheese and pizza.)

Still, having a kid with a food allergy - especially a peanut allergy, which is considered to be the most likely to result in the most serious reactions - means relying on other people to keep your kid safe...even more than any other parent has to do for any other kid. Our lesson on Epi-pens was terrifying, and even after carrying two with us everywhere we go for more than two years, I still live in fear of the day I might actually have to use them. I still catch my breath a bit when she eats a baked good that I have not been able to completely inspect, even if it is totally logical that a sugar cookie should be fine. But I also don't want to be "that mom" who makes a big huge deal out of stuff. I just want my kid to be able to eat without worrying that she's going to end up swollen in hives and unable to breathe.

Hannah's getting to the age where we are trying to teach her more about what it means that she's allergic to peanuts, and that she has to ask about new foods before she tries them. I think she's starting to get it - she at least knows that peanuts will make her "very sick." But I don't want to freak her out, either.

But I also want other parents to understand that peanut allergies are serious, and if you're not dealing with a food allergy in your family you should be grateful, certainly, but you should also be respectful of those who are. We don't want to be a pain, and we hate that we have to ask for special treatment sometimes. But we do it anyway, because we want our kids to be able to go out for ice cream just like yours (so we ask the person at the counter to go wash the scoop before they get Hannah's vanilla, or we just go for soft-serve straight from the machine); and we want our kids to be able to eat lunch with their friends without worrying about anything bad happening; heck, we also want them to be able to fly in a plane without fear, so is it really that big a deal if the airline has to give you pretzels rather than peanuts? We're just trying to keep them safe, and while we don't want to have to ask for your help, we still have to. You would, too, if it were your kid.

I know there are lots of food allergies, and one very good argument is that concessions aren't made for those allergic to those other foods (milk, soy, etc.) the way they are for those who are allergic to nuts. But it's also true that peanut allergies tend to mean more severe reactions, and they're less likely to be outgrown than a lot of those others.

For my daughter, that means that it's very likely that she'll still be dealing with this and asking for special treatment and hating to draw attention to her allergy into adulthood. But that's the way it is, and a little help is much appreciated.

On pregnancy

I'm not pregnant (sorry, parents, all of you). But one of my very best friends is, and she's due literally any minute (technically, tomorrow). I'm so extremely excited for her, and can't wait to meet the new little one! I have been obsessively checking my phone this weekend, just in case I somehow missed the call that they were at the hospital. Which is impossible, because I have also been obsessively carrying my phone everywhere, so that I wouldn't miss the call that they were at the hospital.

Watching my dear friend go through every step of pregnancy has reminded me how much I like not being pregnant. I've only done it once. It was reasonably pleasant, actually, as far as pregnancies go. I would probably remember more of it if I'd had a blog then, because I could have typed everything out. As it is, I didn't write very much down about it, so I don't remember a lot of it. I do remember that I didn't have morning sickness, but I had something flu-like for pretty much the whole second half of my pregnancy. I had a lot of fevers and coughs and couldn't take anything good for them. Having the flu stuff for the second half worked out, because for the first half my skin was so bad that I was embarrassed to have to go out into the world (in a PR job!!) and talk to people. Again, couldn't take anything good for it. So having them both together would have pretty much done me in...although if I'd had them both together, I suppose I could have just stayed home sick and avoided seeing people. I had a lot of very weird food issues. It was the only time in my life I've been a vegetarian, though briefly. But I had this very textbook delivery, with nothing weird, and a great epidural. And I came home with probably the best little girl in the entire universe (no offense to other mothers of other wonderful little girls). So it was worth it. And I know that I was very, very lucky to skate through as smoothly as I really did.

But you know what? Being pregnant isn't really very fun, and it really feels like it takes forever. (Anyone who says, "I LOVED being pregnant!" is either lying or doesn't accurately remember the details. These are also often the same people who say, "Oh, you forget the pain.") I don't feel this big urge to do it again anytime soon. I may, someday. I don't know. We've decided we're not going to think about having another baby for awhile - at least not till we know we can't live without one, the way we knew we couldn't live without Hannah. I say you know when it's time to have kids, and it has nothing to do with calendars or finances or anything else - it has everything to do with that feeling in your gut that your life is not going to be complete or fully happy until you have a child. That's when you know. And if you don't feel like that, don't do it. That's what I say, anyway. And we are just really happy being the Three Musketeers right now. But if we ever feel like that again, then sure, why not?

But the last thing I will say about watching my friend go through pregnancy is that it goes WAY FASTER when it's not you!

On turning 30

Today I am 30 years old.

I spent most of the last year being freaked out about the looming three-oh. I'm not sure why. I'm quite pleased with where I am in my life. For some reason, though, when I turned 29, it hit me that I hadn't done anything crazy in my twenties and now they were almost over. I got married when I was 22 and one week, moved to a new state when I was 22 1/2, got a good job and bought a house at 24 and had a baby at 26. All of those are wonderful things, but it didn't leave a lot of time for being crazy. So I never did one crazy thing, ever - nothing to tell Hannah about when she gets older and I try to "relate" to her while she rolls her eyes and says I'm lame. *chuckle* And I think that's why I was having anxiety about 30. Because who does crazy stuff in their thirties?

I'm not even a "do crazy stuff" kind of person, which I suppose is why I never have. But I'd like to do one wacky thing, just once, that's fun but doesn't involve any kind of trouble. I've decided I will work on this in my "year of being 30."

The funny thing is, the closer my birthday got, the less I freaked out about it. I think the freaking out hit a fever pitch a couple of months ago, and it's been on this slow decline ever since then. It just seemed inevitable, and then it started to seem like any other birthday, and then it seemed like not a big deal at all. So I'm actually feeling quite happy today. :)

This is helped along by the fact that my family got me Rock Band 2, so I've been playing video games all day. And if you can still play video games when you're 30, there's still time to do something memorable and wacky, too! :)

Confessions of a working mom

My new job is insane. It's insane partially because I think that's just how it's going to be, and partially because I am trying to learn it while simultaneously doing my old job (because there's no one else to do it). I had seven meetings today, and there were two times where two meetings overlapped. It's that kind of crazy. I left work late and Hannah was the last kid left at daycare, which doesn't happen often but still makes me feel like a horrible mother when it does. It's been bugging me all evening.

It occurs to me that because I had a child while still on the upward climb of my career, I have set myself up for many years of internal conflict and guilt over pursuing career advancement. I thought I'd already understood it, but with this job I think I've hit the point where it's really going to be something that weighs on me. While my family will always be the most important thing in the world to me, my career is still important, too. I hope that in the long run this will be a really good example for my daughter - that you can do all the things you want to do, and have success in your own right while also being a good wife and mother. But I think the key is marrying well; that is, marrying someone who supports that, and plays an active role in the daily running of the family. I'm lucky my husband supports my ambition, and that he is an active dad who would never, ever refer to spending time with Hannah as "babysitting." But I still have guilt.

The other day, I was talking to one of my friends, who's expecting a baby. I said to her that I felt like the decision to be a working mom is a catch-22: if you stay home, people may undervalue you because you're not "working" and you may feel like you should be doing more (which is a crock); if you work, some will judge your career dedication negatively, and you'll feel guilty for not staying home (also a crock). None of this is fair, but as my mom always said, "Who ever promised fair?" The answer, now as it was when I wanted a Whistle Pop at the grocery store, is "nobody."

I know that I would not be a very good stay-at-home mom. I mean, I'd be okay at it, but I don't think my daughter would be as well-rounded if she were stuck with me all the time. In fact, judging by the few times we've been on our own for a few days when her dad was traveling, I'd say we'd get pretty sick of each other. I've said a million times that she wouldn't know how to do half the stuff she knows how to do, because it wouldn't occur to me to teach her. We're always so impressed when she starts doing something new - and one of us usually says, "Did you know she could do that?" And then we start working with her at home, too...but it takes a little kick in the pants to get us started. I also know I wouldn't be one of those moms who's really good about arranging activities and crafts and things, and I don't think I'd like "mommy & me" classes very much.

At the same time, I wonder about being a working mom and if my drive for success is going to affect Hannah. She's already good about applying the guilt when I travel, and it's awful. It makes me feel selfish - but really, although we certainly need my salary and it helps a lot, the real reason, deep down, that I work is for me. I need it. I need the interaction with people, and the intellectual stimulation, and the ability to feel like I'm accomplishing something that's just mine. I've said before that I was the first person in my family to graduate college, and I went to college for a reason, and that reason was to have a successful career. So I guess it is a bit selfish. But I also think that's probably okay.

What I can't figure out is why there's guilt, anyway. I mean, who ever said I have to be the one to pick up my kid from day care every day? Who said I'm the one who has to get up first in the morning, and get everyone else moving? Who said I'm the one who has to make dinner? Certainly not my husband, who is more than willing and able to share all these responsibilities. Not my parents, both of whom always worked when I was growing up. Even my grandmas worked. Sometimes I think it's a function of moving to a different geographic area, where there seem to be more stay-at-home moms than I ever encountered where I grew up. I don't think I had any friends when I was younger whose moms didn't work. Everybody's mom worked. They had to, and that was that. So you'd think that moms my age would have purged all that guilt and second-guessing, because even their moms worked and they turned out just fine.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe I just always feel like I should be doing more.

Sorry to be so pensive. I just needed to get all that out.

A lot (and sometimes nothing) can change in 10 years

Saturday was our 10-year high school reunion. Since Brock and I were "high school sweethearts," we have the great advantage that we only ever have to go to a reunion for one class at one school, and we both know everybody because there were only about 87 people in our class.

We drove down to Indiana Saturday afternoon. Thankfully, I got out of class early on Saturday, so we didn't end up being as late to the reunion as we thought we would be. It started at 7 and I think we showed up about 8, after dropping Hannah off with my mom and dad for the evening.

You have to understand that we're from very small towns, and a very small high school. I started school with some of those people in preschool when we were four. What's kind of odd about that is that you can know somebody for 14 straight years, and then completely and utterly lose touch with them in a matter of months (or days or weeks) after graduation. What I really understood from this reunion is that there's a big difference between friends of convenience and friends of choice. When you're from a small town, your pool of potential friends is automatically smaller; there may not be a whole lot of people just like you, so you just do the best you can with what you've got. When you get away from the small town and meet more people, you have more options, and you can find the people you have a lot in common with, who will probably be lifelong friends.

I only have a couple of those "lifelong friends" from high school, and we're not even that close. We manage to stay in touch sporadically and I like to know what's going on with them. But I didn't have a lot in common with most of the people I went to high school with while we were still in school, and it seems like I really don't now. They're all nice people; I think I always did a pretty good job of getting along with everyone. But we weren't ever really great friends.

That said, we did have a good time at the reunion. There were a lot of people I really enjoyed catching up with, swapping kid pictures with, etc. I got to see one of my best friends from high school (one of those I manage to sort of keep in touch with), who I hadn't seen for a long time, and she and I had a lovely time getting really drunk on a bottle of Crown Royal she brought with her. I think this, alone, did a good job of redeeming my reputation as an uptight smart girl with a lot of the non-uptight people I graduated with. :)

Brock had a good time talking to some of his old friends from school, and a depressing time talking to others - that's where the "a lot (and sometimes nothing)" can change comment comes from. Some people were exactly the same, which was fine - they were pretty cool in high school and seem to be doing well. Some people were a bit different, although I wouldn't say anyone had changed enough that there were any shocking developments. And some people were exactly the same, and it wasn't so good. You hoped people would kind of get it together and do well in life...and they didn't.

There were a lot of people I would have liked to see who didn't come, so that was disappointing. And there were a lot of people there who I never talked to much in high school; so I talked to some of them at the reunion, but I would have felt weird running up to a lot of them just because I recognized them and finding out how they were. I was curious, but it's an odd relationship dynamic. It's kind of like, "After 10 years, would you think it was stupid if I came up and talked to you?"

Overall, our reunion was...interesting. I had a lot of fun. I'm really glad we went. And I especially want to thank Lindsey and Amanda, and whoever else worked on planning the reunion, for getting it together so we could actually have one (I don't know if it would have happened otherwise)! But I think I can wait another 10 years before we do it all again.