A few minor changes...

My life. Has changed. So much.

Here are the facts:
1.  On Wednesday mornings, I take a 6 AM bus to NYC, where I work for J. all day, then take a train to NJ to see my therapist at 8 PM at night (God bless this woman for staying late to see me) and then I take a 9:30 train back into the city before returning to J.'s apartment to collapse.
2.  Thursdays, I will be babysitting a little boy for a few hours, puttering around NY, taking care of things, and then taking care of Birdie for her parents' date night starting at 5 PM.
3.  Fridays, I work for Birdie all day and take a bus back to Boston around 7 PM.
4.  Saturdays, I collapse, do laundry, hug my best friend, go grocery shopping, etc.
5.  Sundays, I go to a local horse barn where I shovel shit in exchange for the chance to ride.  I also do this on Mondays and Tuesdays.  I AM THE LUCKIEST GIRL EVER.
6.  Right now, I am camping in the room of this girl I talk about all the time.  Starting in December, though, I'll be living in the apartment upstairs with two roommates (yet to be found, inspected, and approved).
7.  I'm looking for a part-time job in Boston for Sundays-Tuesdays, to help bring in more money.  I've applied to every coffee shop and bookstore I could find, so we'll see what happens there.
8.  I miss my boys terribly.  For the sake of Rupert, his need for more consistency, and the ease of me finding a place to live, he is living at Alix's dad's house for now.  I have shed more than a few tears about this, because he was (and is) the light of my life and not snuggling up with him every night has made a part of me die.  In fact, I'm tearing up right now just writing this.  But I know he's in a better place right now, this is temporary, and yes.  Okay.  It's better.  I know it is.  But oh, I miss him.
9.  Until I move upstairs, Tucker is staying with my brother so as not to continue to overcrowd H.'s apartment with warm bodies.  So I'll be counting down the days until December 1st when I can begin our staring contests again.  (He usually wins.  But I feed him.  So technically, as the wielder of all things edible, I WIN.)



The gory deets:

Living with Birdie's family three days a week is going surprisingly well.  We genuinely get along, we have fun together, and it's not awkward.  (This is remarkable.  I am the queen of awkward.  I could make a coffee table feel uncomfortable, if I tried.)

I am eating.  More.  Every day.  It's hard.  I am trying.  The end.

I applied to Yale.  I wrote a damn good essay (if I do say so myself), and the office of admissions is being very understanding about the lateness of two of my letters of recommendation due to the snow/ice storm that took out power in the town from which two of the letters are coming.

Last week, when H. was helping me pack, it was quite honestly, the most exhausting 72 hours of my life, between packing up all of Alix's stuff to put in storage, going to Boston to go job/apt hunting, coming back, packing up all of my stuff, loading a moving van, driving to Boston, unloading the van into a storage unit, and then driving me and H. and my essentials to her apartment.  ANYWAY - we were packing.  We were tired.  So, we decided to get coffee.  Then, we decided coffee was boring.  So, we added Bailey's.  Irish coffees make packing A LOT more interesting.  Please see below:

In case you can't read: (H) AIR (Y) Conditioner (and golf clubs)

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The last time I picked up a golf club was...oh wait, never.  So yeah.  Around 3 AM, everything was in boxes, labeled (although you can only imagine how much more fun the labels got as the hours swung by), and organized into piles for van vs. car.  A couple hours later and we were up, bumping furniture down three flights of stairs and soon on our way to Beantown.

I was so tired when we got there that I almost fell asleep on the floor.  Of the living room.  With the lights on.

Today, I took a walk in Riverside Park, just for fun.  Just because I wanted to.  Because I had enough energy to do so.  Because the sunshine felt nice, and I had nothing else to do, and I was happy.

Further gory deets, though: I am still swinging like a monkey on a tree between moods.  Definitely hanging out in the depressed section these days, for way longer than I have been in a good long while.  I'm hoping that my medication changes will help, as will all these other huge life alterations that were all done in the name of saving my sanity (even if temporarily, it's disrupting it completely).  Eventually, I will even out.  And so will my life.  And life will go on.  And all that stuff that they say, but it's true, and it bears repeating.

Holding this close to my heart tonight, and trying like hell to believe it:
You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.

Songs for Her Sassiness

In light of the utter relief I felt when my job with the boys ended, it is safe to assume that I won't be returning to work for their family, even if/when my former boss finds another job.  That said, I couldn't be happier with my current situation.  A few days of work per week balances out my study/application time, not to mention, brings in some desperately needed cash.  So, since this little one will be playing the lead role in upcoming nanny-related posts, I'd say it's about time for a formal introduction:

Fuzzy and self-photographed - but check out the smiles!

Too cute, right?  Well, get this - today, September 14th, is her quarter-birthday!  Three months old today, and I get to spend it with her.  Heretofore (blog)named Birdie - Radish readers, meet Birdie; Birdie, meet Radish readers.  Okay, now you can all ogle her and tell me how freaking adorable she is. 

The cheeks!  The smile!  The chub!  Birdie girl has got it all figured out.  She's got her mama, her daddy, and me all waiting on her hand and (tiny) foot.  She loves nothing more than to be held and snuggled, and is generally easy-going - except when she's not.  Little baby, BIG lungs.  This sassy girl can reach some very impressive decibels when something isn't rocking her world.  But, bless her, she so stoically hams it up for the camera anyway:

I need to brush up on my song repertoire for this one.  Girl can't get enough of it (which is saying something, because um, yeah, I shouldn't quit my day job to become a professional singer, that's all).  I know very few "kid" songs, start to finish.  I tend to sing the same verse of Amazing Grace ad nauseum, or the bits and pieces of "This Land is Your Land," "Oh My Darling Clementine," and "The Wheels on the Bus" that I know.  Then, the other day, I had a realization: just because I don't remember the words to some inane children's song doesn't mean I can't sing to this music-craving girl.  So I promptly pulled out some Katy Perry.

You're so hypnotizing, could you be the devil, could you be an angel...

She loved it.  One rendition of bad pop music under my belt, and next I was belting out Lady GaGa, closely followed by a smattering of Ke$ha, P!nk, and Britney.   Lest she think I only listen to Top 40, I threw in some Tegan and Sara, The Weepies, and Jack Johnson.  She was transfixed.  I promised her that tomorrow, we'd move on to Dar Williams and Antje Duvekot, with a bit of Rihanna and the Black Eyed Peas - but only if she's good.