Having to ask for every dance

Two calls of "maaaama" at 3am just got me out of bed and out of one of those disturbing dreams where you can't find your way out of somewhere you don't want to be (this time, a hospital, a really big one with suffering people all around, but in a science fiction film, less human, more focusing on the fear of the diseases sort of way). And I had just been trying to drop off an ex at his bicycle before I headed back to my time machine. It just went all wrong and I never got back to my time machine.

Aaaanyway, my daughter called my name twice and then went silent. Must have found her pacifier. And now I'm up, in part trying to drain off the disturbing, lingering emotional state-of-mind from that dream.

As I was laying in the dark, trying to fall back asleep at the same time as not remember the dream, a striking similarity between two parts of my life struck me for the first time ever. My current employment, in which I am constantly needing to hustle, to cold call other researchers, people who work at the university, or anyone who I think might help me think through some of what I think through in academia without a research group to call my own (either above or below me), feels like being at a huge swing dance night, in a new city (yet again), in a scene I know no one in, and having to ask for every, single, dance.

No wonder I find work so disheartening sometimes. Because let me tell you how many car rides I've been a part of where a bunch of us women were coming home from a dance that just made us mostly feel like crap. Where no one asked us to dance, and since we weren't there to hook up (on that particular night or in general, say), and didn't know anyone, we had to ask for dances or just sit there. Yeah, I know, women and liberation, blah blah blah. Having to ask for every dance is painful, no matter who you are - guys, don't think women don't know what that feels like when someone who accepted a dance acts like it is a big favor they are doing you.

And it can just drain your enthusiasm for the activity, no matter how great the band or the venue was. So much hope and excitement goes down the drain. Self-esteem tried its best to do that, too.

How great it was to be driving home in a car full of people who experienced the same thing and to laugh, swear and, by the end of the hour, have some of the hope back and think "maybe I'll try dancing there one more time." And how lonely and disheartening it is not to have the same kind of support group right now as I ask for every dance academically these last few years.

I just went to a local swing night, in fact, and it was kind of the same - I knew no one, most people came in pairs or groups, all first contact was going on in German (my language skills do not include the subtleties of asking for a dance), there were many more followers than leads, and being 40 years old isn't exactly the quality one desires to have to get more dances. It was a pretty bleak night, emotionally. M had even insisted since I was going alone that I leave my wedding ring at home in hopes of playing the flirting angle. Sweet husband. Let's just say I might have been better served giving off "I'm married, just here for the dancing, don't worry, I won't follow you after this dance" signals at 40 than "I might be a cougar" signals.

And the band wasn't all that great, either.

It all comes out in the wash

I mean that as a saying, not literally. Since as an underachiever in the kids' laundry category I am perfectly incapable of getting many food stains out of many a white t-shirt. And those are supposed to be the easy ones. Let's just say that for color-bleeding reasons my laundry loads don't actually see 90 C very often.

But I digress. I picked the title of this post as a comment on my day today, as a parent. The ups and downs, the lucky highs and the tantrum lows. You can pretty much match them, turn for turn, and come out with an average day. Not way better than most and not way worse. And yet, within the confines of its hours, there were all manner of things going on.

My 3+ kid woke me at 4am to help her find her pacifier. I couldn't sleep for the rest of the hour after that. Unlucky.

Found ourselves in the middle of a crowd of mardi gras costume wearing kids and their families (and we happened to all have our animal hats on in case the main parade that is actuallz tomorrow was today) and the steel drum band. Lucky.

My daughter fell asleep in her stroller during the parade (lucky) and then didn't sleep a wink more the moment we got home, 45 minutes later because of missed connections (un-LUCK-eh).

A and I caught the twice an hour bus by running fast, on our way to do some shopping. This driver actually waited an extra 10 seconds for us, which usually counts as a miracle here. Luck-a-luck-a-luck-eee.

A's scooter caught a cobblestone on the way back to the bus home, just at a busy intersection, and I about lost it (un-lucky-ducky). I took it away for the streets, too quickly and finally in that instant and I had a 20 minute tantrum on my hands for the wait and bus ride home. (Now you guess, which category?).

She wanted apricot flavor for dessert and the unlucky broken yogurt in our grocery bag just happened to be the apricot one. At that time of the night, with the tantrum behind us? LUCK-Y.

A flipped off the kids' chair in the kitchen, pretty much while just standing there. Rare and unlu...strike that. This kid has such balance that this was just TIRED.

Bedtime prep went great for all involved. Lucky.

End of the tally, seems pretty even to me.

Moths to a streetlight

What a tiring thing, it seems, to be constantly flying towards the light, at 1am, bouncing off it, and then coming back for more. How long do those 5 months per lamp do that for? Is it just an hour per month and then they've gotten out of their system and go snuggle into moth-nests somewhere? A nice, cool leafy plant or tree, maybe.

Or do the same moths keep going, around and around and around the whole night until they just die of exhaustion?

Let's hope it is the former and they're all just getting their daytime frustrations out at the streetlamp elliptical machine before going off to sleep.