So, here goes. I'm going to really put myself out here. I'm
challenging myself to a “75 Day Challenge.” The truth is, I
toyed with finding a fresh name for this, but realized it is but
another way to procrastinate – and avoiding such behavior is the
essence of this challenge.
Remember Julie and
Julia? The movie about a young woman who decides to go through
the cookbook of Julia Child – one recipe a day – blogging
about it each day? I will parallel this effort. Nope, not a
cooking challenge (Lord, help us) Eh, no, not a workout challenge.
No...no not a new meal plan challenge. I challenge myself to blog every day,
for the next 75 days, on the progress of my dissertation.
All I ask is for you (those of you who are interested) to hold me
accountable – maybe don't even read the blog if you don't want to,
but expect it so that if you don't see the link on FB/Twitter, ask
me why!
Why 75 days? Because my (self-imposed) deadline is up then – October
15, 2013, 11pm. [And I'm so tempted to add some disclaimer about how
nothing actually happens if I
don't meet this deadline, but I do risk missing semester deadlines
and will have to pay for another semester of tuition. And guess
what? I've paid for 18 semesters of tuition since law school; some of
those semesters I paid for both law school and graduate school. tuition So
really. It's just insane to keep this going.] I could explain time
missed with family and the time I need to focus on, and commit
myself, to my new job but that is pretty obvious... *Not to mention I
would love to submit a new dance choreography piece in the Spring
2014 Open
Marley Night*
Why do you care? Well, you may not. BUT if I finish in 75
days I will be able to attend functions, see my children, help out
around the house... You know, live life a little.
Why now? I start a new job tomorrow. I'm on the track to
completion of this dissertation, but I am scared (petrified) I will
get lost in the tasks of this job only to find myself still writing
my dissertation a year from now. [Not to mention in the realm of OCD
world, August 1 is a nice starting date].
Why will this work? I keep my word. I am relying on the
premise that I do not like to fail, and if I define “failure” as
making a promise and not following through with it, well, then...
this should work. PLUS, I hate to say it folks, but my gym routine
will go on hold until it is
done. I will teach, take walks with the dogs & children, but I
cannot make this a priority at this point.
Why a blog? A few
reasons. I usually have a lot to say and a mere status update on
FB/Twitter, etc. won't work. I have a blog that I set up a while ago
on which I hardly write, so let's use it. AND I promise to post
“funnies” about Samara, and I'm sure Mackenzie soon. Maybe not
in every post, but enough of the time, I think. Plus
this blog is “The Portioned Plate.” My life balancing act. This
is the ultimate call to action.
Anyways, as I mentioned, this
scares me – this asking others to hold me accountable. This... this putting myself out there. And frankly
75 days seems like a shot in the dark to me, in terms of actually finishing.
So I commit myself to a very intense 2 ½ months.
Okay all. Time for sleep so I can be on task tomorrow. Peace.
The soul of a lazy man desires, and has nothing; But the soul of
the diligent shall be made rich. ~Proverbs 13:4
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Friday, July 26, 2013
A Love Letter
My Z,
I don't know where to begin, so I'll start from "the beginning." About this time, 3:30am, July 26, 2012 I couldn't sleep. This was nothing unusual: I was almost 40 weeks pregnant and [you] the baby inside had claimed most of my sleep for his/her own. And when you're a mother who works outside the house full time who finds herself "black-clouded" with a dissertation, you research in such times, so that's what I did. I worked on my evaluation of Arkansas's state plans for the equitable distribution of highly qualified teachers. (For the record, I sincerely hope that this is a complete project by the time you are able to read this.)
My pregnancy with you was just as wonderful as with Samara, except so very different. It is just the same with how you two sisters are in life - wonderful, but so very different. As your due date, July 30, loomed closer and closer I got rather stressed, which was odd because as I said, my pregnancy with you was wonderful. I knew things would be different with you - for how could things be exactly the same - but Samara had been born 13 days prior to her due date and the world of "experts" (i.e. FB friends and everyone I encountered) told me the second baby would arrive sooner than the first. And so I'd had my share of "false hopes" - thinking labor had started but learning I was wrong.
This morning one year ago, 4am, as I sat contemplating the federal response to Arkansas's state equity plan, the contractions started again once more. But this time, I kept working - I tracked the contractions, but kept working. At about 5:15am it was apparent that a pattern was emerging so I called the doctor. It was a funny time because your dad was getting ready to go to work and we didn't know whether he should make the 50 minute drive to Baltimore. I got off of the phone, having received the advice to just wait and see, and told your dad I had no clue what he should do. So, in typical "Daltons of York" style, we stuck with our routine. Dad went to work.
Sufficed to say, about an hour after he left, I was calling him to tell him to return. I had waited about as long as I could for him (at least another hour for him to drive) and was about to leave without him in fear I'd have you in the house or on the way, when he finally did return home only to tell me he hadn't packed anything for the hospital. So I waited. Your dad decided to drive through the city during York City's version of "rush hour" which isn't much, but it is slower than the highway. On the way, he generously offered the right of way to about every driver who needed it. So I waited. We arrived at the hospital and completely forgot where to park - so in typical "Daltons of York" style we took a guess and were wrong. We had to have a security guard walk us to the maternity ward, while all along the contractions were getting pretty heavy. We check in and the doctor checks to see if I am far enough along - aaaaaand at about 8 centimeters dilated, we all decided that I was having a baby that day - July 26, 2012.
From there, the story could get longer, but here's the short version: While both you and your sister took the exact same about of time from the beginning of labor to birth (8 hours) a MAJOR difference between my delivery of you and of her was that yours was wonderful. I have a few theories as to why that is but they are irrelevant. For the record, I rejoiced at your sister's birth, don't get me wrong, but if I'm going to experience extraordinary amounts of pain, I'd rather know what to expect. And as the first, that just wasn't possible for my delivery of her. But with you, I... I...
Well anyways, short version: you are born on the 3rd push after I was in the hospital for only 3 hours. I had to have a small surgery so couldn't eat until afterwards which wasn't until 9 hours after I'd delivered you. Your grandparents and father and sister did eat... right in front of me which was "awesome." The Olympics started the day after you were born so your father and I had that playing on the TV for most of the time. Your father met you and loved you right away. And your sister met you and loved you right away. Your grandparents and aunts met you and loved you right away. I finally put a face to the wonderful being in my belly and the love I'd had for 40 weeks grew exponentially.
When you read this, I have no idea what the state of technology will be. Today, the common form of capturing a moment is via digital picture and video. We have plenty of pictures of you, but I'm working so hard to imprint your image in my mind that I wanted to describe your presence: You have a color of hair that teeters between reddish and blondish... I guess strawberry blonde, but I don't know. Your amount of hair is just right - not too much but enough that I can give you a little girly style - at the moment a Pebbles pony tail on the top of your head. Your lips are so perfect and your cheeks could be holding a little nut in each one. You have nice little ears, I suppose, but it's hardly a feature I can describe well. Of course you have the little baby nose. You are very long in stature... You have long fingers, long toes, long legs and long arms. You are long. Your knees have callouses on them because you still prefer crawling to walking, although I think you'll put crawling aside very soon. You are kissed by many mosquitoes and the bites well up. So far, you only have two little bottom teeth that pop out when you smile - which is a lot. Your two favorite modes of body-expressions (besides smiling) are pointing and clapping. And how could one forget your eyes. The big, round blueberries staring at people as they engage with you. You often give a "deer in headlights" expression (so if I'm doing justice to my written-picture I should paint that image with words) although that trait is fading and big smiles usually appear on your face when people speak to you.
You are my Z. You are my bookend. You have taken what was an open end to our family, closed it in, tied it up, and completed it. You are you. You are God's little angel. You are mine, your dad's, your sister's. We are yours. God is yours. God loves you. We love you. I love you. Take care, Sweet Z, all the days of your life and know that you are loved by many. Happy First Birthday!
Love always,
Mom
I don't know where to begin, so I'll start from "the beginning." About this time, 3:30am, July 26, 2012 I couldn't sleep. This was nothing unusual: I was almost 40 weeks pregnant and [you] the baby inside had claimed most of my sleep for his/her own. And when you're a mother who works outside the house full time who finds herself "black-clouded" with a dissertation, you research in such times, so that's what I did. I worked on my evaluation of Arkansas's state plans for the equitable distribution of highly qualified teachers. (For the record, I sincerely hope that this is a complete project by the time you are able to read this.)
My pregnancy with you was just as wonderful as with Samara, except so very different. It is just the same with how you two sisters are in life - wonderful, but so very different. As your due date, July 30, loomed closer and closer I got rather stressed, which was odd because as I said, my pregnancy with you was wonderful. I knew things would be different with you - for how could things be exactly the same - but Samara had been born 13 days prior to her due date and the world of "experts" (i.e. FB friends and everyone I encountered) told me the second baby would arrive sooner than the first. And so I'd had my share of "false hopes" - thinking labor had started but learning I was wrong.
This morning one year ago, 4am, as I sat contemplating the federal response to Arkansas's state equity plan, the contractions started again once more. But this time, I kept working - I tracked the contractions, but kept working. At about 5:15am it was apparent that a pattern was emerging so I called the doctor. It was a funny time because your dad was getting ready to go to work and we didn't know whether he should make the 50 minute drive to Baltimore. I got off of the phone, having received the advice to just wait and see, and told your dad I had no clue what he should do. So, in typical "Daltons of York" style, we stuck with our routine. Dad went to work.
Sufficed to say, about an hour after he left, I was calling him to tell him to return. I had waited about as long as I could for him (at least another hour for him to drive) and was about to leave without him in fear I'd have you in the house or on the way, when he finally did return home only to tell me he hadn't packed anything for the hospital. So I waited. Your dad decided to drive through the city during York City's version of "rush hour" which isn't much, but it is slower than the highway. On the way, he generously offered the right of way to about every driver who needed it. So I waited. We arrived at the hospital and completely forgot where to park - so in typical "Daltons of York" style we took a guess and were wrong. We had to have a security guard walk us to the maternity ward, while all along the contractions were getting pretty heavy. We check in and the doctor checks to see if I am far enough along - aaaaaand at about 8 centimeters dilated, we all decided that I was having a baby that day - July 26, 2012.
From there, the story could get longer, but here's the short version: While both you and your sister took the exact same about of time from the beginning of labor to birth (8 hours) a MAJOR difference between my delivery of you and of her was that yours was wonderful. I have a few theories as to why that is but they are irrelevant. For the record, I rejoiced at your sister's birth, don't get me wrong, but if I'm going to experience extraordinary amounts of pain, I'd rather know what to expect. And as the first, that just wasn't possible for my delivery of her. But with you, I... I...
Well anyways, short version: you are born on the 3rd push after I was in the hospital for only 3 hours. I had to have a small surgery so couldn't eat until afterwards which wasn't until 9 hours after I'd delivered you. Your grandparents and father and sister did eat... right in front of me which was "awesome." The Olympics started the day after you were born so your father and I had that playing on the TV for most of the time. Your father met you and loved you right away. And your sister met you and loved you right away. Your grandparents and aunts met you and loved you right away. I finally put a face to the wonderful being in my belly and the love I'd had for 40 weeks grew exponentially.
When you read this, I have no idea what the state of technology will be. Today, the common form of capturing a moment is via digital picture and video. We have plenty of pictures of you, but I'm working so hard to imprint your image in my mind that I wanted to describe your presence: You have a color of hair that teeters between reddish and blondish... I guess strawberry blonde, but I don't know. Your amount of hair is just right - not too much but enough that I can give you a little girly style - at the moment a Pebbles pony tail on the top of your head. Your lips are so perfect and your cheeks could be holding a little nut in each one. You have nice little ears, I suppose, but it's hardly a feature I can describe well. Of course you have the little baby nose. You are very long in stature... You have long fingers, long toes, long legs and long arms. You are long. Your knees have callouses on them because you still prefer crawling to walking, although I think you'll put crawling aside very soon. You are kissed by many mosquitoes and the bites well up. So far, you only have two little bottom teeth that pop out when you smile - which is a lot. Your two favorite modes of body-expressions (besides smiling) are pointing and clapping. And how could one forget your eyes. The big, round blueberries staring at people as they engage with you. You often give a "deer in headlights" expression (so if I'm doing justice to my written-picture I should paint that image with words) although that trait is fading and big smiles usually appear on your face when people speak to you.
You are my Z. You are my bookend. You have taken what was an open end to our family, closed it in, tied it up, and completed it. You are you. You are God's little angel. You are mine, your dad's, your sister's. We are yours. God is yours. God loves you. We love you. I love you. Take care, Sweet Z, all the days of your life and know that you are loved by many. Happy First Birthday!
Love always,
Mom
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