Mindless Facebook Unfriendedness Issues; Sleepless in Clutterland

Admittedly, I don't really get people.

On my report cards in elementary school, they always included a little yes or no check list of 6 things your kid may or may not be doing well, such as using time wisely and being clean and tidy. Without fail, every six-weeks of the school year, I would have all As in the grade column, all Es (for Excellent) in the citizenship column, and a big fat N for "Works well with others" which always bothered me. I never really got the point of having that mark on the page, of letting my parents know how badly I fail at making friends. It seemed to me like putting salt on the wound. It was bad enough that the other kids knew I was weird and didn't want to play with me. Having proof on paper didn't help matters.

I did eventually make friends, a few at a time. Many of the ones I made in high school are still considered friends more than a decade later. But my college associates still perplex me some.

Have you ever noticed it's a friend's birthday on Facebook and, remembering that that friend has a twin sister with shockingly the same birthday, clicked on the links to post on the walls only to find that one of the two has cast you out? Well that's what I just went through. Then I searched for the girl, because it's five in the morning and my brain will not clean more for a minute. She is nowhere to be found. So either she died suddenly and no one bothered to tell me or she has decided to block me, who knows why.

Maybe it was all my whining when I was hospitalized and on bed rest during the pregnancy. Maybe it was the pregnancy in and of itself, and the choices I made around it like giving up my job to stay at home. Maybe she's a nutball. Maybe it was incidental. Maybe I shouldn't care. Correct that--I definitely shouldn't care.

This isn't the first non-crucial acquaintance I've lost on Facebook for reasons that are still unclear to me. Since I don't live in the same city as this person, there is no way for me to easily contact or find her. If she doesn't want me to know her, maybe it's best I just don't know her.

But things like this always give me pause. I think it's because it seems so juvenile-- really a lot of social media does to me-- and pointless. We're friends. No we're not. Friends again. Not. Maybe. Nope. I don;t have time for this. I'm nearly 30 and I've got a baby to raise.

And a house to clean. I really hate cleaning. Tomorrow the in-laws come over to set up the ungodly expensive doll selection they bought for Julia for Hina matsuri (girl's day or doll's festival), which will be set up directly in front of our large closet, meaning I cannot access that closet at all for the next month. Whipee.

I only found out when they were coming earlier today, when my husband came home with tons of news. So I've spent the night cleaning and dealing with the baby and organizing the spare room. And being exhausted. I don't think I should pull all nighters anymore.

That said, there's still more to be done.

Adios, compadres.

Dontosai and Changes in Perception

Last Tuesday was Dontosai, which in essence for me is a huge bonfire near the Shiogama Shrine. Every year people buy charms from the friendly neighborhood shinto shrine. Each charm has a specific function. For instance, the good driving charm is usually in the form of a sticker and can be found on the cars of those who buy one. There are charms for health, wealth, general good luck, exams, work, love, and as I found out recently pregnancy. A pink pouch on a white string is supposed to ward off evil while a small ceramic dog places overlooking your bed should ensure a fast, painless delivery. I shrug at these as I wound up on bed rest for 3 months of the 8 month pregnancy and the delivery was very painfully, but also wonderfully short. On the up side, she was and is healthy, so it could have been significantly worse.

Anyway, on to Dontosai. During the first week of January, every good shintoist visits a shrine and buys the new charms for the new year. Then, a few weeks later, these people gather the charms from the previous year (in a nice big paper bag if they're smart) and head off to the bonfire. I have come to the conclusion that the act of burning the charms is a way of giving the luck back to the gods and saying thanks for whatever luck they provided that year. My husband seemed to agree, so this is the notion I'm sticking with.

Of course I am up for this thing. I'm not really religious in any direction, but a fire in the winter up here is almost always welcome. Also, it is said that one warmed by the fires of Dontosai can't get ill for the following year. The funny thing is that following Dontosai last year, both my husband and I caught a virus, but that is neither here nor there. There's a big fire or two and chocolate covered bananas to be bought. We had to go.

So my husband and I walked up a monsterous number of stairs. Since he has a better sense of balance and less weight, he wore the baby carrier and walked with me stumbling breathlessly beside him. I really do need to get into better shape.

When we finally got there we saw the fire in what I know now is it's usual place. As I stared into it, the bonfire casts bits of these old charms--embers and scraps of flaming paper; thin ashen chunks with the last lick of flaming orange lining slowly receding-- up into the air. For some reason, I drifted back to a phase of thought I'd last visited as a teen on the shores of Galveston Island, theorising that humans are like waves in that some crest too early and are devoured by others while others crest perfectly at their apex and still some never crest at all.

These flaming bits of ash spoke to me too, fifteen years later. Maybe that's what we are-- bits of drifting flame helplessly drifting with the winds of change and landing where we will. But some don't even get off the pile. Some burn and smolder there, finding their brightest and darkest moments in the same spot. Others drift so far so fast that they burn out unseen and far from home. Still others come up into a glorious arch, tasting the realm of birds before plummeting back to the fire.

Admittedly, if we were all flaming bits of paper flying through the air, it would be terrifying and crowded. Also very dangerous to any non-flaming-paper-bits.

All of this brings us to a recent revelation-- I like living in Japan.

That's not to say I didn't enjoy it before. After five and a half years, you'd think I would have adjusted more. I moved here with purpose, which then was to master the language and have some adventures before I was saddled with a spouse, children, and mortgage. Instead I met a fascinating man and had some different adventures than expected, including What Happens When Your Company Goes Under in Japanese and Living with Your Potential Future In-Laws. And maybe it's this most recent adventure, Bed Rest Pregnancy in Japanese, that has pulled me more solidly into this country.

It could also be that I have recently started making friends I don't work with, and since I stopped teaching I don't actually work with anyone but Julia. Most likely the cause is my new found lack of employment. I've been given a chance to take a breath and make a real life out here for me and my little family. I'm not trying to cram as many Japanese experiences as I can into a short time with the idea that I'll be leaving soon. I also no longer find it necessary to hide in my apartment (also known as my Texas Bubble) quite as much as I used to. When I go to the grocery store now, I have actually started looking for produce and products I can use instead of what I readily recognize.

It's amazing how much of the world you lose when you keep the blinders of familiarity firmly in place.

Finally, at long last, I think I like it here.

Co-sleeping and Staying-at-home

I've been meaning to write a post of consequence and at some point that might happen, but for now I will fill the world of cyberspace with some of my favorite simplicities of my current way of life.

My favorite time of day is the short stretch of hours between my husband leaving for work and my needing to wake up because shortly after he leaves, the baby wakes up hungry. I take her into my bed, feed her, and then, snuggling together for warmth, we both pass out. It is wonderful.

When it comes to co-sleeping, I am fairly middle of the road about it. I don't think it works for everyone, but it apparently works for some. It is my belief that a light sleeper who doesn't mind not moving for hours on end can co-sleep with their infant as they choose. For people like my husband, loud-snoring toss-n-turners who can fall almost immediately into a deep sleep, this might not be the best idea. I've seen him sleep through the baby screaming less than a foot from him. Co-sleeping might be dangerous for him.

I think it also depends a lot on the age, personality, and sleeping habits of the baby. Mine can get to sleep on her own sometimes but would rather eat until she passed out. She's not the deepest sleeper but has little trouble letting me sleep in in the mornings. We can co-sleep occasionally for short intervals without me going crazy with worry, so that's what we do.

As with much of parenting, a lot of it seems to come down to whatever works for you.

In other news, we're gearing up for our trip to the states at the end of the month. I'm trying to make enough plans that I won't feel cheated when it's over and we're back in Japan for years on end.

Also, today I got a call from an associate of a friend of mine, offering me a teaching opportunity. Despite my dedication toward being a stay-at-home mom for the moment, the details of the class didn't seem awful. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss teaching and going to Sendai on a regular basis. It would be equally untrue to say that I didn't enjoy my time with my baby or to say that I wanted that to end soon. In my opinion, if I can stay-at-home and write while taking care of my baby until she's ready for kindergarten, I will have won.

It seems like that might take more determination than I was counting on. Considering the current economic climate for much of the world, I would feel like a jerk for not taking work that was offered to me. By the same measure, I already have a multifaceted, challenging job, albeit one I don't get a paycheck for. But this isn't the first person to ask when I'm coming back to teaching (not if) or if I would like to work with them when I do.

The offers are always flattering, even though the people offering usually haven't watched me teach, but if I'm not ready for it, then that is the bottom line.

 In any case, no decisions on this account will be settled until I'm back from the states. I just won't have the energy until then.

Time to run about and try to finish cleaning this messy house. I am better at being a mom than being a housewife. I'm actually fairly awful at housewifery.

Take care, cyberspace!

Things We Saw at the Doctor's Office: Shaken-a-baby; No fly zone

Yesterday was Julia's first vaccination, and she behaved perfectly. She didn't  cry or whine or scream at all aside from being fussy because she was hungry on our way out.

What was more interesting than our tiny, well behaved baby was the behavior of the other kids and parents in the room. Two women sat next to us with their babies strapped to their chests, and when their babies got fussy while waiting for the shot, the mother in each case grabbed their baby, lifted it out of the carrier and gave it one hard shake followed by jiggling. I'm all up for jiggling babies, but the hard shaking bugs me.

Part of the "joys" of having a baby in Japan is having to sit through hours of parenting class at the hospital where the overall message is don't eat western food, you must breastfeed, and don't shake your baby. I'm guessing they weren't paying attention to the end of that.

I try to keep in mind that parenting by comparison is a fool's game. I shouldn't be watching and judging everyone else, even as they do the same to me. The real goal is to be able to see other parents interacting with their kids without any thought other than, "That seems to work for them."

But what do you do when you see something that disturbs you? Since it all happened really quickly, and honestly my Japanese isn't really good enough to do anything like this tactfully, I just tried to look away and keep my distance.

It's not my job to save all the babies. It is my job to keep the one I made as safe and healthy as I can. This brings us to another problem with Japanese cultural norms.

It seems here that even after 2013, pregnant women and mothers are expected to forfeit every part of their pre-motherhood life that didn't involve eating copious fish and rice while breastfeeding constantly and parenting. When I was pregnant and had planned a vacation in the states we were advised not to. This was when it was believed that we had a perfectly normal, average pregnancy. Luckily due to the timing of my three week vacation, they moved up our transvaginal ultrasound and found that my cervix was half the length it was supposed to be. This meant that not only did I have to cancel my trip, I also had to quit my part-time job and surrender to bed rest indefinitely. The following week, we began our cycle of hospitalization and release that would last the rest of the pregnancy.

But in America, if you have a normal, average pregnancy with no complications, we wouldn't expect you to stay grounded indefinitely. And if you chose to take your normal, average 5 month old baby on an overseas vacation, the topic itself would not be as much a big deal as vaccinations and taking care to ensure the baby chews and pops her ears on take off and landing. Here even the topic makes the doctor give you a look of judgment before telling you that traveling with an infant is never advisable, as if I suggested feeding her poison.

It is my assumption, untested as this assumption may be, that the problem here is an archaic mindset. I want to say it's on the part of the doctors, but it's a cultural norm here. An expectation. Once you're a mother, that's basically all you are; the only thing you can be.

To me, daughter of a working mom who herself was a daughter of a working mom, this idea is as foreign as they come. Keeping in mind that my husband doesn't make tons of money, in a few years there won't be much of a choice. I will have to work, whether it's selling my writing or teaching again. We don't make enough to be a single-income household, the way most households were here through the end of the bubble economy.

But it's not just the lack of working options. You're not supposed to fly. People don't get babysitters. You don't have a life. You should be cleaning and taking care of the baby and that is all. No private time. No hobbies. No interests outside of being as perfect a mother/housekeeper/homemaker as you can muster.

I guess, given those assumptions and a lack of alternatives provided here, I can understand why the other women were so frustrated with their crying babies.

But that's still no reason to shake a baby.