safety deposit box

s: why is "the thong song" trending?

e: did something happen to sisqo?

stephen: is that rob corduroy?

me: you mean rob cordry. and no.

stephen: but it's another rob.

I spent yesterday in mourning. I cried angry, bitter tears as I tried to come to terms with what had happened in the morning. I sobbed heartbroken tears as I watched the most qualified presidential candidate of my lifetime give a gracious concession speech. (I do not feel like arguing about how you felt about Hillary Clinton personally, but you cannot say that she did not have the best possible resume for the job.) I cried hopeless tears as I read post after post from friends and family who now fear for their lives and loved ones in the aftermath of this election. And this broke my heart.

I watched my grief echo back thousandfold as my country, a country I still believe in, woke up to a day that so many of us had hoped and prayed and worked to turn out differently. While I have always considered myself an optimist, yesterday I felt despondent. I have been very, very lucky in my life. I am a white person of means and privilege. I have benefitted from quality public education, and have lived and worked in diverse circles. I have a loving and supportive family, and a husband who believes I am his equal. We live in safety and comfort. I have never felt like I was less than simply because I am a woman. I have had strong female mentors and champions in the workplace. I have never been raped. But this election was a confirmation on the grandest scale that in the eyes of many, too many, women still are just not good enough. And this broke my heart.

I believed, naively I now see, that the majority of us are good. Are able to look beyond ourselves to make choices for the betterment of us all. But this election proved to me that there is even more work to be done in America than I had realized, and I regret my own complacency. I am sorry to those who were telling us that our country is broken – I was not listening. Yesterday, I felt like I had failed my friends, and my family, and my daughter. And this broke my heart.   

It is very, very difficult for me to understand how everyone who watched this campaign did not see what I saw: a woefully under-qualified narcissist who preyed upon America’s basest instincts, and took every chance he got to demean a strong, intelligent woman and the decades she has spent in service of the public, as well as those who believed in her. For those of you who say you voted for Trump only because you are concerned about the economy and you want your jobs back, or because you are anti-abortion, or because you just don’t trust the Clintons, I hear you, but I need you to understand: it does not matter. You have aligned yourself with a racist, hateful man. And his deeply racist supporters are not parsing this win; they see this as a confirmation that the country is with them. (And while I understand that Hillary won the popular vote, that is cold comfort.) You chose to ignore the many, many opportunities you had to disavow this despicable man, and you will have to live with the repercussions of your actions. We all will. Trump may not actually do the truly horrific things he promised to do during his campaign, but his election gave a legitimacy to a deep-seated hatred – of women, of African Americans, of Latinos, of Muslims, of the LGBTQ community, of immigrants, of people with disabilities – that previously lurked in the shadows, occasionally lashing out in spasms, that now feels welcomed to come out into the light. And this makes me angry.

the “while ruby naps” edition. after a few unusual weeks (visitors, holidays, work travel), i am back to ruby fridays, and so, so happy about it! i think today’s adventures might include baby’s first trip to target.

yesterday i took an uber home from a dental appointment, and when i got in the car, my driver (a cool young dude) switched the music from whatever he had been listening to, to a dave matthews band channel. i am not sure what about me said “play me dmb, and dmb only!”, but he wasn’t wrong, per se.

i spent a few days last week in new york for work, and last weekend in california for a wedding, and while it was very difficult to be away from my baby girl (and stephen), it was also great to get to be my “old self” for a night or two. i haven’t seen my friends sans ruby more than twice since she was born, and i needed that. i came home refreshed and ready to get back into the business of being a mom, and with the desire to find a way to balance everything a little bit better. to that point, tonight i am going to art after dark tonight with my girl clare, and i am really looking forward to it.

as a white person, i have struggled to figure out how best to be an ally to my friends and neighbors during the second civil rights movement we are in the midst of. (this article about why white people say “all lives matter” really resonated with me.) while i vehemently oppose police brutality, and believe that our systems have a lot of work to do in order to become truly just, i don’t feel like i have the knowledge to debate these kinds of topics with people who disagree with me because i am currently coming from a point of emotion, and i want facts to back up my passion. though i am not currently in college (i wish i could have taken this class!), i think this black lives matter course syllabus is a great starting point for me to further educate myself through essays, books, and films. 

since i got a ruby monday this week thanks to labor day (and i have an event next week), i am working today and thus you get an update - somehow it’s hard to find time to post when the baby is home with me on fridays? i wonder why...

i got a good chuckle out of “how hillary clinton can get that presidential look” (though of course its inspiration makes me seethe.) also it reminded me that there are a lot of presidents that i had pretty much forgotten about. sorry, john tyler and zachary taylor and franklin pierce.

also campaign-related: i really appreciated humans of new york’s hillary photos. i think her stories are so, so important for understanding who she is as a person and a candidate. and they made me respect her even more.

e: play that chance the rapper song i like. the one about sundays and candy.

s: oh, you mean "sunday candy"?

well, we all survived my first week back at work. (i am working four days per week for the next few months as we transition back, so thursday is the new friday!) ruby is slowly getting better at taking at bottle - she drank 7.5 oz over three feedings yesterday, a personal record, and i am slowly getting better at not crying all day. it feels good to use my brain again (and pee and eat and make noise whenever i want to), but man i miss my baby during the day.

today’s ruby friday plans: a walk to get mama some coffee once she wakes up from her nap, reading some books, a little playmat time (and the dreaded tummy time), and all the snuggles i can get. 

in non-baby news, i am currently reading hard-boiled wonderland and the end of the world, which was my nyc book club pick a few months ago (oops), and my first murakami fiction. i am really enjoying it, and after considering what i’ve read and loved recently, it turns out i might kind of like sci-fi/fantasy? this is new for me. so if you have any good recs, send them my way. i’ll get to them by oh, 2018.

you take two bodies and you twirl them into one / their hearts and their bones / and they won’t come undone

when i was newly pregnant, i remember looking at a diagram that depicted the way my organs would be rearranged to make room for our growing baby. it was amazing and terrifying to me. (pregnancy is a celebration of one of the most incredible things your body can do, while you are seemingly reminded of every unpleasant bodily function, all the time.) as i got further along, i would lie on my left side and could feel my heart beating closer to the skin. it was a visceral reminder of everything i was doing to keep us both alive. i know that everything has slowly worked its way back to its original place on the inside, but i’m not sure my heart will ever be the same.

now my heart beats outside of my body. my little heart coos at me in the mornings, flashing the world’s greatest gummy smile. she has learned to hold up her head and is working on sitting. she recognizes the voices of mama and daddy and bluesy hippo, and is instantly calmed by the music of paul simon. (specifically “you can call me al”. it is bizarre how easily this works, but i am not looking that gift horse in the mouth.) when we took her to daycare this morning for the first time, she looked steadily around the room with her serious face on, taking it all in. only mama cried. on the way home, i drove carefully, willing myself to make it without turning around. i watched the clock until noon, and then called to check in. (she is fine. of course she is fine. only i am not fine.)