It's 12:30 am and I promised my husband I would be in bed over an hour ago. I'm going to be tired tomorrow. But, I'll get up and take care of everything like always. Drink a lot of caffeine and go about my duties. It's a routine I know well as I've been doing variations of this for the last 6 years.
I don't know if it's the summer, or just that overall feeling that we are moving on to the next stages of life that has been keeping me up to sometimes 2 am every night for the last few weeks. It's been a mixture of uneasiness, anxiousness and a little excitement.
All of a sudden (or what seems like all of a sudden), I have some time to think. Like waking up out of a blur. Ok, not like waking up out of a blur, I have been in a constant state infant blur to which I am just recovering from. My little one is just shy of 2. She's getting easier to deal with and instead of finding myself knocked up again (as I had been when the other two where her age) I now how some... free time (gasp!).
Free time is something I've never been good at. Looking back if there was a sliding scale from Lazy to 'Go-Get-Em' I would be about a 3... on a good day. Being a mother though has kicked Lazy Stef's ass out and told her to do the piling up loads of laundry, go to the store, have dinner cooked and for goodness sake DO SOMETHING FUN WITH YOUR KIDS. I know you all have that same inner voice yelling at you too. There is ALWAYS something to be done.
Well, I am doing most of that stuff, with a teeny bit little time left over. And I feel like it's time to start doing something for myself. The problem? Well, the stuff I need to do for myself is something I've never been able to do before.
I'm overweight. Have been since early 20's. The funny thing is I like who I am much more than I ever did at a reasonable weight. It's the best feeling to love who you are. But realistically I need to lose 80lbs. Dreaming...100 lbs. And I think about all the stuff I want to do with my kids are are growing faster than I can grasp. Yet this extra weight I carry is like carrying all 3 my children all day long.
Around my neck.
Around my legs.
Around my waist.
I have always faced weight loss as a vanity issue. Now it really comes down to a quality of life issue. The weight will start getting in the way of fun stuff we do as a family. Roller coasters, hiking, swimming. They can be done, but honestly, not very well.
If I haven't been able to figure this out by now, at almost 35 years old. How can I start? Where do I start? I don't know. I just know I have to start.
Where I've been is on the edge of feeling simultaneously that I can do something great... mentally I'm ready, physically I need it. But also life can't stop so I can do this HUGE thing. This long time consuming, challenging thing that might as well be me learning how to be in two places at once.
So, lately I've been using that extra bit of time for other worthwhile and fulfilling projects. Good, but at this time of night with nothing but my thoughts and the guilt of how to be a good role model for my girls, rest can't find me.
I just continue to sit on the edge with my feet dangling, watching the other cool Moms playing in the deep end. Sitting here I'm safe. Jumping in means 'sink or swim'. And after just learning to swim through this whole motherhood thing, I'm just not sure I have the stamina to go there. The fear of drowning is keeping me here. For now. I hope.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Monday, June 11, 2012
From Whence You Came
During college I had a friend, more a girlfriend of my boyfriend's friend, who happily referred to herself as 'daddy's princess'. No, seriously. They went to Disney world like 4 times a year and when her sister got married in her 30's she had a Disney princess theme. It was all a bit shocking to my system as I had grown out of that phase at age 5 or so.
When she and my boyfriend's friend got engaged, we were all invited to her hometown for a bridal shower. I remember one of her closest college friends pulled us 'newbies' aside and said, "When we go to her hometown, you will understand why she is the way she is." Sure enough, after 2 days with her parents, aunts and other close friends and family, I realized that she wasn't the crazy one. She had only absorbed crazy growing up and knew nothing more.
When she was around her family it was like she was the missing piece of the puzzle. She was a perfect match to the environment. She wasn't the loud one anymore, she wasn't the biggest 'princess', in fact she seemed downright subdued comparatively. I DID understand her more. And felt sorry for my friend who was marrying into all that.
Personally, I had always felt a little 'wierd' growing up. I liked to wear black, my brother's cammo, my Dad's high school letter jacket and my sister's big 80's jewelry. The more unique the stuff, the better. So when I left to go to OU, I thought I would fit right in. Turns out my liking to shower daily and lack of experimentation with drugs kept me from fitting in with the hippie crowd. And I didn't care as much about my looks to fit in the sorority crowd. After a year and a half I moved on.
Moving to UC was much better, I liked to think of my DAAP class as the 'Island of the Misfit Toys'. There were the typical driven freshman, but also an exceptionally large amount of transfers. Those of us who were over the newness of college and through different circumstances had found our way to that strange building with strange hours and strange professors. Not one was the same, but we were all linked by the same ridiculousness that 5 years brought us. Some I clicked with more than others but we all had the same battlefield alliance no outside person could relate to.
The last 10 years have brought an expansiveness to our lives with new church acquaintances, mommy friends, neighbors, etc. We all have something in common that I truly enjoy being a part of.
Last weekend I went back to my hometown to celebrate the birthday of a best friend since birth. At midnight I found myself surrounded by girls, now women, who had spent their formidable childhood/teenage years together. There were the same old stories, a lot of laughing, beer, yoga pants, stretch marks, no make-up and pony tails. But most important was the unmistakable sense of home. The moment I no longer felt like a fish out of water, but piece of the landscape.
I never want to move back. I have a happy life with my family a few hours away, but sometimes it's nice to go where people know (and helped create) the skeletons in your closet and who knew you before you figured it out yourself. As different as we all are now, we all had this small town in common that shaped who we were to become.
Most importantly, after that weekend, it's really nice to know I'm not all that crazy. I just absorbed a large amount of it growing up :)
When she and my boyfriend's friend got engaged, we were all invited to her hometown for a bridal shower. I remember one of her closest college friends pulled us 'newbies' aside and said, "When we go to her hometown, you will understand why she is the way she is." Sure enough, after 2 days with her parents, aunts and other close friends and family, I realized that she wasn't the crazy one. She had only absorbed crazy growing up and knew nothing more.
When she was around her family it was like she was the missing piece of the puzzle. She was a perfect match to the environment. She wasn't the loud one anymore, she wasn't the biggest 'princess', in fact she seemed downright subdued comparatively. I DID understand her more. And felt sorry for my friend who was marrying into all that.
Personally, I had always felt a little 'wierd' growing up. I liked to wear black, my brother's cammo, my Dad's high school letter jacket and my sister's big 80's jewelry. The more unique the stuff, the better. So when I left to go to OU, I thought I would fit right in. Turns out my liking to shower daily and lack of experimentation with drugs kept me from fitting in with the hippie crowd. And I didn't care as much about my looks to fit in the sorority crowd. After a year and a half I moved on.
Moving to UC was much better, I liked to think of my DAAP class as the 'Island of the Misfit Toys'. There were the typical driven freshman, but also an exceptionally large amount of transfers. Those of us who were over the newness of college and through different circumstances had found our way to that strange building with strange hours and strange professors. Not one was the same, but we were all linked by the same ridiculousness that 5 years brought us. Some I clicked with more than others but we all had the same battlefield alliance no outside person could relate to.
The last 10 years have brought an expansiveness to our lives with new church acquaintances, mommy friends, neighbors, etc. We all have something in common that I truly enjoy being a part of.
Last weekend I went back to my hometown to celebrate the birthday of a best friend since birth. At midnight I found myself surrounded by girls, now women, who had spent their formidable childhood/teenage years together. There were the same old stories, a lot of laughing, beer, yoga pants, stretch marks, no make-up and pony tails. But most important was the unmistakable sense of home. The moment I no longer felt like a fish out of water, but piece of the landscape.
I never want to move back. I have a happy life with my family a few hours away, but sometimes it's nice to go where people know (and helped create) the skeletons in your closet and who knew you before you figured it out yourself. As different as we all are now, we all had this small town in common that shaped who we were to become.
Most importantly, after that weekend, it's really nice to know I'm not all that crazy. I just absorbed a large amount of it growing up :)
Friday, March 30, 2012
Dear Isla (And Middle Children Everywhere)
Dear Isla,
I composed this letter to you as I took a shower this morning, before I cried and after I screamed at you. I want so much for you to know, one day, why your mommy loses it on what seems to be a regular basis lately. My dear child, you are a wonder, an amazement. And I feel have pretty much tried to undo me since my pregnancy began with you.
I want to write this, to have this out into the universe, so that one day you can know what it was like from my point of view, because I know you will not know the internal turmoil I go through struggling on how to raise you, how to do right by you.
In a few weeks my dear you will be a total of 4 years old. With your older sister I remember the defiance melting away on the day she turned 4. I feel though defiance is welded in your soul, something age and time will never take away.
I tell people all the time that ultimately YOU are the one I will never have to worry about. You will NEVER do ANYTHING you don't want to do. You voice your opinion, stand up to your beliefs. This will be a wonderful attribute one day when peer pressure to try drugs or have sex has entered your world. You will never follow the crowd.
My only fear is that you will lead it.
Your defiance and stubbornness at this age though has a much different challenge because you do not yet have the knowledge of life that I do. My job is to teach you what I know. I know that car driving through the parking lot can't see you as you dart out in front of it. I know that children can be taken when they run far away & hide from their parents in a public space. I know kids can get very sick by putting unknown substances in their mouths. That in some rare cases these things can take precious children away from their parents that only want to protect them.
But you only know that yell, never hearing the worry, sadness and anxiety behind the scolding. And as much as I can tell you its because I love you, I feel like you don't really feel it. And I know for sure that you don't understand it.
My biggest fear is you will only grow resentful. Resentful of all the punishments you incur that your sisters never do. Resentful of the threats of no birthday parties and visits with friends. Resentful of the moments when I snap and grab your arms and half cry/ scream for you to sit in time out, only to have you jump up and scream in that angry, sad cry, "NO, I'M NOT GOING TO DO IT! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! YOU'RE NOT MY MOMMY ANYMORE!"
Resentfulness that will ultimately block out any useful item your daddy and I want you to know and protect you from. I know this from experience.
I remember growing up with 'the middle child'. I remember being scared out of my wits as my defiant teenage brother stood his ground with my angry parents. There was some violence, a lot of screaming and on my part, a lot of fear. I watched my brother on the outside so strong, physically and emotionally. Only later I saw deep wonderful sensitive & resilient soul that I love and admire today. He was a rock but inside a brilliant gem. I see so much of him in you. I see how diverse his world is, how he could navigate any place his choices took him and made it out the other side a better person. I also remember that some of those places were the result of impulsive (& sometimes poor) choices. Once he was an adult he there was nothing else Mom & Dad could do but watch, they could no longer force him into into the choices they knew best. From my point of view I loved watching him prove them wrong. To this day I'm pretty sure they are the most proud of him, mostly because of his journey. As backward as it was, they parented the best they knew how and view him as a success. But even well into middle age, I know my brother doesn't see his experience growing up as anything but traumatic.
How do I, my dear child, harness your spirit without crushing it?
I see glimmers of your incredible soft and loving side as you gently rub your great-grandmothers hand and speak to her like you would your best friend. You are the first to give the most incredible hugs and cuddle. You seem to gravitate and draw out those who need it. Your smiles are unabashed and infectious. You are naturally exuberant and enigmatic. A truly strong life force to be reckoned with.
There never in this world will be another Isla. And in many ways that's a good thing. We only need one. Her strong spirit, minus her diminutive size, can be crushing to those with more submissive souls. Myself being one.
Know dear that I struggle daily with the best way
To discipline you.
To guide you.
To encourage you.
And most importantly to love you. I am your mommy. And always will be.
I composed this letter to you as I took a shower this morning, before I cried and after I screamed at you. I want so much for you to know, one day, why your mommy loses it on what seems to be a regular basis lately. My dear child, you are a wonder, an amazement. And I feel have pretty much tried to undo me since my pregnancy began with you.
I want to write this, to have this out into the universe, so that one day you can know what it was like from my point of view, because I know you will not know the internal turmoil I go through struggling on how to raise you, how to do right by you.
In a few weeks my dear you will be a total of 4 years old. With your older sister I remember the defiance melting away on the day she turned 4. I feel though defiance is welded in your soul, something age and time will never take away.
I tell people all the time that ultimately YOU are the one I will never have to worry about. You will NEVER do ANYTHING you don't want to do. You voice your opinion, stand up to your beliefs. This will be a wonderful attribute one day when peer pressure to try drugs or have sex has entered your world. You will never follow the crowd.
My only fear is that you will lead it.
Your defiance and stubbornness at this age though has a much different challenge because you do not yet have the knowledge of life that I do. My job is to teach you what I know. I know that car driving through the parking lot can't see you as you dart out in front of it. I know that children can be taken when they run far away & hide from their parents in a public space. I know kids can get very sick by putting unknown substances in their mouths. That in some rare cases these things can take precious children away from their parents that only want to protect them.
But you only know that yell, never hearing the worry, sadness and anxiety behind the scolding. And as much as I can tell you its because I love you, I feel like you don't really feel it. And I know for sure that you don't understand it.
My biggest fear is you will only grow resentful. Resentful of all the punishments you incur that your sisters never do. Resentful of the threats of no birthday parties and visits with friends. Resentful of the moments when I snap and grab your arms and half cry/ scream for you to sit in time out, only to have you jump up and scream in that angry, sad cry, "NO, I'M NOT GOING TO DO IT! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! YOU'RE NOT MY MOMMY ANYMORE!"
Resentfulness that will ultimately block out any useful item your daddy and I want you to know and protect you from. I know this from experience.
I remember growing up with 'the middle child'. I remember being scared out of my wits as my defiant teenage brother stood his ground with my angry parents. There was some violence, a lot of screaming and on my part, a lot of fear. I watched my brother on the outside so strong, physically and emotionally. Only later I saw deep wonderful sensitive & resilient soul that I love and admire today. He was a rock but inside a brilliant gem. I see so much of him in you. I see how diverse his world is, how he could navigate any place his choices took him and made it out the other side a better person. I also remember that some of those places were the result of impulsive (& sometimes poor) choices. Once he was an adult he there was nothing else Mom & Dad could do but watch, they could no longer force him into into the choices they knew best. From my point of view I loved watching him prove them wrong. To this day I'm pretty sure they are the most proud of him, mostly because of his journey. As backward as it was, they parented the best they knew how and view him as a success. But even well into middle age, I know my brother doesn't see his experience growing up as anything but traumatic.
How do I, my dear child, harness your spirit without crushing it?
I see glimmers of your incredible soft and loving side as you gently rub your great-grandmothers hand and speak to her like you would your best friend. You are the first to give the most incredible hugs and cuddle. You seem to gravitate and draw out those who need it. Your smiles are unabashed and infectious. You are naturally exuberant and enigmatic. A truly strong life force to be reckoned with.
There never in this world will be another Isla. And in many ways that's a good thing. We only need one. Her strong spirit, minus her diminutive size, can be crushing to those with more submissive souls. Myself being one.
Know dear that I struggle daily with the best way
To discipline you.
To guide you.
To encourage you.
And most importantly to love you. I am your mommy. And always will be.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Wait... I have a BLOG?!?
I completely forgot about the 4 people who read this on a semi-annual basis!
I know, I know, your life has kind of been put on hold since I last posted, just waiting on some story that would make most people feel much better about their life, right? Ha! Yeah, I'm laughing at that one too. But as your life has surely gone on, so has mine. So to catch you up, I'll give you a brief synopsis:
Summer happened.
Kids survived.
I survived (barely).
Finlay walked.
Then turned One.
Hazelle started Kindergarten.
Isla started Preschool.
We got a kitten named Blu.
And now we are nearing October. And I have one more big thing, for me anyway. NO. I am not pregnant. In fact, I am happily starting to gather up the newborn/baby stuff and giving it away, something I thought would send me into despair. But no, just the opposite. One of the side effects of being in a 1400 sf. house with 5 people and a cat? Space = Happiness.
The big thing? I'm starting back to work. Next week. Just about 10 hours a week, but it's so strange . This job of being a full-time mom, this terrain I was so afraid to tread, this place that I unwillingly went, but stayed at is coming to a slow end, much like the warm summer days of 2011. I realize that the black hole of staying at home has spit me out a happier, better person.
No longer do I think that my job should get more attention that my 3 year old. No longer do I value the opinions of my superiors more than my husband. No longer do I look down upon the lifestyle I had no training for, but had completely submersed myself in. I have respect for life. I have confidence in myself. And because of those changes, we have a happier family.
3 years ago I was in a different place. Treading water. Closing my eyes and wishing it away.
Being laid off and at home forced my eyes open and allowed me to watch my kids through the most amazing, growing times in their life. I no longer tread water, some days it damn near feels like I walk on it.
Anyway, I feel good about things. And I feel best at the monumental shift that happened, just in time. Because you really never do get those things back. Work will always be there, your kids won't. Thank you Universe for allowing me to learn that lesson.
I feel like I just took the training wheels off my wisdom bike :)
I know, I know, your life has kind of been put on hold since I last posted, just waiting on some story that would make most people feel much better about their life, right? Ha! Yeah, I'm laughing at that one too. But as your life has surely gone on, so has mine. So to catch you up, I'll give you a brief synopsis:
Summer happened.
Kids survived.
I survived (barely).
Finlay walked.
Then turned One.
Hazelle started Kindergarten.
Isla started Preschool.
We got a kitten named Blu.
And now we are nearing October. And I have one more big thing, for me anyway. NO. I am not pregnant. In fact, I am happily starting to gather up the newborn/baby stuff and giving it away, something I thought would send me into despair. But no, just the opposite. One of the side effects of being in a 1400 sf. house with 5 people and a cat? Space = Happiness.
The big thing? I'm starting back to work. Next week. Just about 10 hours a week, but it's so strange . This job of being a full-time mom, this terrain I was so afraid to tread, this place that I unwillingly went, but stayed at is coming to a slow end, much like the warm summer days of 2011. I realize that the black hole of staying at home has spit me out a happier, better person.
No longer do I think that my job should get more attention that my 3 year old. No longer do I value the opinions of my superiors more than my husband. No longer do I look down upon the lifestyle I had no training for, but had completely submersed myself in. I have respect for life. I have confidence in myself. And because of those changes, we have a happier family.
3 years ago I was in a different place. Treading water. Closing my eyes and wishing it away.
Being laid off and at home forced my eyes open and allowed me to watch my kids through the most amazing, growing times in their life. I no longer tread water, some days it damn near feels like I walk on it.
Anyway, I feel good about things. And I feel best at the monumental shift that happened, just in time. Because you really never do get those things back. Work will always be there, your kids won't. Thank you Universe for allowing me to learn that lesson.
I feel like I just took the training wheels off my wisdom bike :)
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Necessary Endings
Is there anything in that title that makes you shudder? I don't know about you, but those words somehow fill me dread. It could be that I was raised by a woman who hasn't changed her furniture arrangement, used the decorative shell soap in her bathroom or burnt any candle on display since... well they moved in nearly 35 years ago. That's enough to scar someone permanently, right?
When you 'end' something, it evokes emotions like 'grieving', 'loss' and 'finality'. Personally, I always got lost in those words and never quite embraced what finality brought, which are new beginnings. I applaud those can easily move on without overly dwelling on what has come to an end. It's a trait I desperately wish I possessed.
This week has been a very difficult week for us as a family. I've been struggling with not breaking out in tears every 5 minutes. The first blow was our beloved Porter cat. He had been diagnosed diabetic a month or so ago and we've been doing our best to get it under control. We hadn't quite regulated his insulin enough to get him gaining weight again, but he was steady. And then I missed a dose... which sent him throwing up and weak and ultimately refusing to eat or drink. After a night at the vet's office on a fluid drip, things still weren't looking good. Ben said what I felt in my heart, it was time to let him go. I said an hour long goodbye to him, my first baby. He obsessively layed next to my belly while pregnant, curled up on my lap when I was sad and bit my ankles long before my children did. He was what made Ben and I a 'family' when we first started out. I could go on. And many of you know this sense of loss. It was the first time though, as an adult, the decision was mine. I was ending this poor cat's life. This wonderful cat who has been with me for 8 years. And I would have explain this to my little girls, who had loved him since they were born. Sure, it was a learning opportunity for them, but in perspective, for none more so than I.
This week also marks the transition from breast to bottle, I am weaning Finlay. I have nursed her exclusively since she was born. But when her two little bottom teeth broke through a month ago, she wanted to bite. Hard. The decision was made. It's a physical thing for me, but also emotional. I am letting go of her infancy a little bit. This is something to be rejoiced, but she is probably my last child, so it's something I will never do again. For you nursing moms out there, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. This little special thing that only I could give her now comes from a can. A giant, expensive can sold at any retailer.
And finally Ben will be resigning from his job of 10 years. He will probably kill me for posting this, since it isn't done yet. But I'm pulling a 'crazy Stef' this week and need some slack. Being a stay at home mom is great, but you inject yourself into your husband's profession because your family is dependent on only him for insurance, income, etc. Everything rides on him. And although, I am excited about the new opportunity he will starting in a few weeks, the idea of leaving a such a good situation for an unknown sends me in a tailspin of doubt.
I think I would be doing worse had I not had a great conversation with a dear friend of mine. While at an event, I picked up a book for her called, "Necessary Endings" by Henry Cloud. She's been struggling adjusting to life with two kids while working full time an hour from her home. I was trying to assure her that life as a stay-at-home mom will be great when she decides to make the leap. That sometimes holding on to who we were, where we worked and where we lived in our 20's and early 30's was keeping us from moving on to where we really need to be. Kids can't fit into our lives as they existed, we need to fit into theirs or risk missing it all.
That's it huh? I need to move on and let go or I risk missing what could be the best part. A new pet, a new phase of life, new opportunities. It's still hard for me to let go of things that were good. It will always be. But as my wonderful husband said last night, "We're leaving a very good situation for an even better one." Translated: It's time to use the decorative soap. Peace be with you for any endings that may be weighing on your heart.
When you 'end' something, it evokes emotions like 'grieving', 'loss' and 'finality'. Personally, I always got lost in those words and never quite embraced what finality brought, which are new beginnings. I applaud those can easily move on without overly dwelling on what has come to an end. It's a trait I desperately wish I possessed.
This week has been a very difficult week for us as a family. I've been struggling with not breaking out in tears every 5 minutes. The first blow was our beloved Porter cat. He had been diagnosed diabetic a month or so ago and we've been doing our best to get it under control. We hadn't quite regulated his insulin enough to get him gaining weight again, but he was steady. And then I missed a dose... which sent him throwing up and weak and ultimately refusing to eat or drink. After a night at the vet's office on a fluid drip, things still weren't looking good. Ben said what I felt in my heart, it was time to let him go. I said an hour long goodbye to him, my first baby. He obsessively layed next to my belly while pregnant, curled up on my lap when I was sad and bit my ankles long before my children did. He was what made Ben and I a 'family' when we first started out. I could go on. And many of you know this sense of loss. It was the first time though, as an adult, the decision was mine. I was ending this poor cat's life. This wonderful cat who has been with me for 8 years. And I would have explain this to my little girls, who had loved him since they were born. Sure, it was a learning opportunity for them, but in perspective, for none more so than I.
This week also marks the transition from breast to bottle, I am weaning Finlay. I have nursed her exclusively since she was born. But when her two little bottom teeth broke through a month ago, she wanted to bite. Hard. The decision was made. It's a physical thing for me, but also emotional. I am letting go of her infancy a little bit. This is something to be rejoiced, but she is probably my last child, so it's something I will never do again. For you nursing moms out there, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. This little special thing that only I could give her now comes from a can. A giant, expensive can sold at any retailer.
And finally Ben will be resigning from his job of 10 years. He will probably kill me for posting this, since it isn't done yet. But I'm pulling a 'crazy Stef' this week and need some slack. Being a stay at home mom is great, but you inject yourself into your husband's profession because your family is dependent on only him for insurance, income, etc. Everything rides on him. And although, I am excited about the new opportunity he will starting in a few weeks, the idea of leaving a such a good situation for an unknown sends me in a tailspin of doubt.
I think I would be doing worse had I not had a great conversation with a dear friend of mine. While at an event, I picked up a book for her called, "Necessary Endings" by Henry Cloud. She's been struggling adjusting to life with two kids while working full time an hour from her home. I was trying to assure her that life as a stay-at-home mom will be great when she decides to make the leap. That sometimes holding on to who we were, where we worked and where we lived in our 20's and early 30's was keeping us from moving on to where we really need to be. Kids can't fit into our lives as they existed, we need to fit into theirs or risk missing it all.
That's it huh? I need to move on and let go or I risk missing what could be the best part. A new pet, a new phase of life, new opportunities. It's still hard for me to let go of things that were good. It will always be. But as my wonderful husband said last night, "We're leaving a very good situation for an even better one." Translated: It's time to use the decorative soap. Peace be with you for any endings that may be weighing on your heart.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Mommy's Law
What is it about Murphy's law, 'Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong'? When you are a mom, you discover this is the truth. Your whole life becomes some anecdote to pass along to those thinking of having children, to prepare those young folk who are newly pregnant or to share among your mommy friends. Below is an example of how Mommy's law has played out for me... just in the last week.... most of it being yesterday.
- Your 2-year old will accidentally pee on the bathroom rugs, the same rugs you just finished cleaning from her peeing on them two days ago.
- Your mother-in-law will prepare your children for the demise of a sick cat by telling them 'the kitty will get a shot to go to sleep... forever'. When in reality she should have checked with you first because the cat just has diabetes and you have to give him a SHOT of insulin twice a day for the rest of his life. Now they want to watch me 'put the kitty to sleep' every time I get out the insulin.
- Not diversifying the baby's veggie diet from squash, carrots and sweet potatoes will result in her turning orange. It isn't a myth. (Note to self: Next week include some green veggies, Fin looks like an oompa-loompa)
- After cleaning up squash from a messy baby's face you will be out in public and have a complete stranger say, "Ewww, looks like someone has a bad ear infection", only to realize that they were talking about the large amount of now-dried squash you missed splattered your baby's ear and neck. How could I have missed that?!
- The one time you are on schedule to get the kids to school on time AND get to yoga class before it starts, you start your period for the first time in 18 months.
- The first time you start your period in 18 months and the toilet mysteriously overflows.
- The first time you ever saw the toilet overflow, clean it up and think "Could've been worse", you go downstairs to discover the water actually leaked through the floor, ceiling and all over your kitchen counter and stack of important paperwork you had to go through.
- You are once again late (REALLY LATE) dropping off child to school and making it to yoga class.
- The one night you can go shopping by yourself and your husband lets your children watch an episode of 'Nature' on venomous creatures right before bed.
- The one night you REALLY want to get to bed early your children will keep coming downstairs because they are afraid snakes and other venomous creatures are in their bedroom.
- You can vacuum twice a day, every day and a new crawler will see the one piece of sock toe jam you missed and put it in her mouth before you can get it from her.
- It's gross enough to make your two year old child spit out what they are chewing on (assuming it's a piece of a puzzle), only for her to tell you it's a booger.
- When you are at the end of your rope, a child they will do something so genuinely sweet, like take your angry face in both hands, kiss both cheeks and say, "I love you Mama". And then reduce you to tears.
Time for me to take a deep breath, laugh it off and prepare for what the next week of Mommy's Law will bring. For now I need to go throw some pee-soaked rugs in the wash.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Gettin' Fixed
This last week marked an anniversary of sorts, the anniversary of getting canned. Or the 'great dawn of the new age' from which this whole wisdom in training thing has sprung. It seems like I have been getting asked a lot lately what I do. It's strange because I find it increasingly difficult to answer. My 'previous' life, as I like to call it, the one where I worked as a designer, keeps getting more distant and foreign. It would seem an obvious thing that as time floats on your experiences would get cloudy, but it's different than that. It's much more like a hyper-humping dog that's been neutered and now sits contently in a trance state and the owner doesn't quite know if the dog is happy or contemplating suicide now his manhood has been surgically removed. And there's that mixture of relief and sadness that people passing by have for that now non-humping dog that his youthful vibrancy is gone but their legs and small children remain safe. Yeah, it's kind of like that.
Too much of an analogy?
You would think that two years would have solved some of these identity issues that have been written about since this blog has started. And it has. The issue is that I realize now its much deeper than I anticipated. I anticipated that I would have a third child stay at home for a few years til the economy got better and then go back to work and try my best to fit back in to that old lifestyle. Buuuut... I don't know now. It's like now that craziness of trying to be super-woman was surgically removed, I kind of like staying at home on the porch and watching the world go by. I just hate the sad eyes of everyone who passes me by, thinking I'm just a shadow of my former self.
That was totally deep huh?
I think we all see ourselves in a role. And mine was to follow in the footsteps that were laid before me. My mother gave birth to me and almost immediately went back to work. She had 'activities' every night of the week, she was a volunteer paramedic, active in the church choir, visited old people, on every committee which requested her, and attended almost all my school activities. A pillar of the community. They were able to pay for my college and retire and continue to live comfortably. She lived the dream.
But she was tired, grumpy. She resented my father at every turn. There was never a family dinner together, no vacations, no chats about how our lives were going. Things were at the very least extremely tense when I was a teenager because I didn't trust her, there was no connection. And to be honest, I never thought it could have been any different, until now.
I was on that same path, I think. My mother was a very good role model for me in what to do for my community, her attitude in that respect is still something I admire. But when I found myself so exhausted and overwhelmed, I started to remember how it made me feel as a kid. As proud as I was at her accomplishments, I still never really had that sense of family. The question is, which is more important to the development of our kids?
Being at home has taken the craziness out of my life. When that was removed, I saw the gaping holes I was leaving for my girls and their sense of home and value. The last two years have been about repairing those holes in my life and hopefully change the course of how my family is raised. I will always be eternally grateful that this anniversary of getting fixed/axed. It's just, where do I go from here?
(If any of you say 'get pregnant again' I'll leave you a flaming turd bag on your front porch.)
Too much of an analogy?
You would think that two years would have solved some of these identity issues that have been written about since this blog has started. And it has. The issue is that I realize now its much deeper than I anticipated. I anticipated that I would have a third child stay at home for a few years til the economy got better and then go back to work and try my best to fit back in to that old lifestyle. Buuuut... I don't know now. It's like now that craziness of trying to be super-woman was surgically removed, I kind of like staying at home on the porch and watching the world go by. I just hate the sad eyes of everyone who passes me by, thinking I'm just a shadow of my former self.
That was totally deep huh?
I think we all see ourselves in a role. And mine was to follow in the footsteps that were laid before me. My mother gave birth to me and almost immediately went back to work. She had 'activities' every night of the week, she was a volunteer paramedic, active in the church choir, visited old people, on every committee which requested her, and attended almost all my school activities. A pillar of the community. They were able to pay for my college and retire and continue to live comfortably. She lived the dream.
But she was tired, grumpy. She resented my father at every turn. There was never a family dinner together, no vacations, no chats about how our lives were going. Things were at the very least extremely tense when I was a teenager because I didn't trust her, there was no connection. And to be honest, I never thought it could have been any different, until now.
I was on that same path, I think. My mother was a very good role model for me in what to do for my community, her attitude in that respect is still something I admire. But when I found myself so exhausted and overwhelmed, I started to remember how it made me feel as a kid. As proud as I was at her accomplishments, I still never really had that sense of family. The question is, which is more important to the development of our kids?
Being at home has taken the craziness out of my life. When that was removed, I saw the gaping holes I was leaving for my girls and their sense of home and value. The last two years have been about repairing those holes in my life and hopefully change the course of how my family is raised. I will always be eternally grateful that this anniversary of getting fixed/axed. It's just, where do I go from here?
(If any of you say 'get pregnant again' I'll leave you a flaming turd bag on your front porch.)
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