Hello, again. It's been awhile, and I'm sorry for that. I've had a rather introspective couple of months, and when I'm in the kind of funk I've been in since last spring, my writing isn't really fit for public consumption. Nobody wants to read that shit.
Heck, with the backlash against mommy blogs, nobody really wants to read this shit, either. But here I am.
Little Miss turned seven in June. SEVEN. When she was an infant, my dad was holding her, and said to me, "I can't wait until she's seven." At
the time, I was horrified and chastised him for wishing my baby's
babyhood away. And while I stand by my policy of trying to appreciate my
children's ages and stages as they happen and not longing for some
other version of them... part of me gets what he was trying to say.
She is really fun right now - up for just about anything, old enough and
well behaved enough to take out into the world and do really cool
things with, and she's just really growing into someone I can have a
conversation with and enjoy her company. We have been reading The Secret Garden together before bedtime, and reliving the books I adored in my childhood with her has been everything I hoped it would be. It does my bookworm, daughter-of-a-librarian heart good to see her just as eager to fall into those worlds.
At four, my little guy vacillates rapidly between "tender" and "terror." He has incredible, endless energy and I'm always looking for new ways to direct it. I am acutely aware that in less than a year, he will be in full day kindergarten, and life as we've known it for the last few years will change dramatically. It has been 29 months since I left my job, which means he has now spent just over half his life home with me. He just started his second year of preschool, which has been wonderful for both of us, but there is a huge difference between a few mornings a week and kindergarten. I am trying very hard to savor this time with him, because I know how quickly it's going to slip away from us.
Summer simultaneously passes too quickly and not quickly enough. It was a blur of baseball games, library workshops, day camps, and park dates. It felt both busier and lonelier than I anticipated, and honestly, I was glad to see September get here. It's nice to get back to a regular routine.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Monday, May 6, 2013
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Two years ago today was my last day as a fixture in the world of working adults. I've waxed poetic on plenty of the ways my life is different now that I'm with the kids full time, so in honor of my personal independence day I thought I'd change things up a little and point out some of the ways things haven't really changed at all.
Money
When I was employed outside the home, I made no money because every last cent of my paycheck went towards child care expenses. It never even passed through my bank account because we paid the child care center via direct deposit. My "paycheck" was just a pdf file detailing where my employer sent all my money for me.
Now I make no money because nobody pays stay at home moms to just be moms!
Net change: zero.
Other People's Kids
In my professional life, I spent a lot of time worrying about Other People's Kids. I designed and executed educational programming for them in a variety of ways, most notably a large summer day camp that was really one of the great joys and stresses in my job (I've been known to refer to that program as my first baby.) Whether they were kids on field trips, kids at camp, or kids just visiting my workplace with their families, I wanted those kids to be having the best experience possible. A lot of it was behind the scenes (yay paperwork and parent/teacher communication!) while other folks were with the actual kids, but I got to spend a lot of time with kids, too.
Nowadays, I lead my daughter's girl scout troop and I'm very involved with my son's cooperative nursery school. For scouts, that means planning and executing a lot of educational programming and communicating with other parents. For the co-op, that means being in the classroom, helping out behind the scenes, and - very soon - being on the board. In both cases, the goal is the best possible experience for the kids. Sound familiar?
Overall, fewer kids total to worry about these days, but far greater emotional investment. Net change: Basically zero.
Relationship Navigation
Almost anyone who works outside the home has to deal with supervisors, co-workers, employees, or some combination thereof. Workplace alliances and drama are very real and can present significant challenges - but they can also become the roots of lasting friendships, long after the job is over.
Turns out, it's basically the same over here in Stay at Home Parent Land. My "co-workers" are mostly other parents of kids in my kids' social circles. And not unlike the workplace, some of them can be safely ignored, some present unavoidable challenges, and some become your support system and your friends.
I think it's harder to build a day to day network as a SAHP than it was as someone with a career and built-in coworkers, but once you have the pieces in place it's easier to customize that network to be what you need it to be over time. Net change: Zero.
My Priorities
I think it gets implied (and sometimes said outright) fairly often to parents who work outside the home that their kids must play second fiddle to their work. This made my blood boil as a working parent and it still makes my blood boil as a SAHM, because nothing could be further from the truth, in either situation.
It's really quite simple - my own children were always my first priority. When I was working 50+ hour weeks outside the home, and now with my career on hold indefinitely and all my time devoted to them - they were always Priority Number One. Always. Net change: Zero.
Sometimes I get bogged down mentally and emotionally by all the ways my life is different than it was, different than what I expected it to be. It's important for me to remind myself that really - a lot of the important things are not so different at all. I have loved these last two years - and I can't wait to see what the next two have in store!
Money
When I was employed outside the home, I made no money because every last cent of my paycheck went towards child care expenses. It never even passed through my bank account because we paid the child care center via direct deposit. My "paycheck" was just a pdf file detailing where my employer sent all my money for me.
Now I make no money because nobody pays stay at home moms to just be moms!
Net change: zero.
Other People's Kids
In my professional life, I spent a lot of time worrying about Other People's Kids. I designed and executed educational programming for them in a variety of ways, most notably a large summer day camp that was really one of the great joys and stresses in my job (I've been known to refer to that program as my first baby.) Whether they were kids on field trips, kids at camp, or kids just visiting my workplace with their families, I wanted those kids to be having the best experience possible. A lot of it was behind the scenes (yay paperwork and parent/teacher communication!) while other folks were with the actual kids, but I got to spend a lot of time with kids, too.
Nowadays, I lead my daughter's girl scout troop and I'm very involved with my son's cooperative nursery school. For scouts, that means planning and executing a lot of educational programming and communicating with other parents. For the co-op, that means being in the classroom, helping out behind the scenes, and - very soon - being on the board. In both cases, the goal is the best possible experience for the kids. Sound familiar?
Overall, fewer kids total to worry about these days, but far greater emotional investment. Net change: Basically zero.
Relationship Navigation
Almost anyone who works outside the home has to deal with supervisors, co-workers, employees, or some combination thereof. Workplace alliances and drama are very real and can present significant challenges - but they can also become the roots of lasting friendships, long after the job is over.
Turns out, it's basically the same over here in Stay at Home Parent Land. My "co-workers" are mostly other parents of kids in my kids' social circles. And not unlike the workplace, some of them can be safely ignored, some present unavoidable challenges, and some become your support system and your friends.
I think it's harder to build a day to day network as a SAHP than it was as someone with a career and built-in coworkers, but once you have the pieces in place it's easier to customize that network to be what you need it to be over time. Net change: Zero.
My Priorities
I think it gets implied (and sometimes said outright) fairly often to parents who work outside the home that their kids must play second fiddle to their work. This made my blood boil as a working parent and it still makes my blood boil as a SAHM, because nothing could be further from the truth, in either situation.
It's really quite simple - my own children were always my first priority. When I was working 50+ hour weeks outside the home, and now with my career on hold indefinitely and all my time devoted to them - they were always Priority Number One. Always. Net change: Zero.
Sometimes I get bogged down mentally and emotionally by all the ways my life is different than it was, different than what I expected it to be. It's important for me to remind myself that really - a lot of the important things are not so different at all. I have loved these last two years - and I can't wait to see what the next two have in store!
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Fat Mom Running
Well... not really running. Mostly walking, punctuated with pathetically slow jogging.
For years, I have been telling myself that I need to get in some sort of shape (besides round) and that the way to begin doing that is to commit to a 5K. I've never been able to pull the trigger, though - until now.
Getting ready for the Color Run ("The Happiest 5K on the Planet!") has been difficult, because approximately 90% of the time I'm still convinced I can't do this. I have never been successfully athletic in any way. I've been overweight since puberty. I regularly trip over my own two feet and walk into things. In my entire adult life, I have never been anything but a lazy fat girl, far happier being a body at rest than a body in motion. I don't even have "once upon a time, I could do this and I can do it again!" motivating me, because I was never capable of this. There's nothing to get back to - I got Bs and Cs in gym class, for crying out loud. The fastest mile I ever "ran," even as a kid, was over twelve minutes.
Who am I kidding, seriously? Nine out of ten steps I take, that's what I'm asking myself. Who are you kidding, Sarah? You can't do this, at least not without humiliating yourself. My internal monologue is horrifically self-deprecating.
On that tenth step, though... I begin to believe that maybe this time it will be different. Maybe I'm not destined to spend life just holding down my side of the couch. Maybe it's not too late to be physically capable of keeping up with my extremely active children - and really, that's the motivation right there. There are so many things I can't give my kids, so many experiences and luxuries I grew up with that I can't even begin to provide for them. All I can give them is myself, my time, my energy, my focus. That means being healthy enough to not get winded chasing them around a park. It means being able to move fast enough to hold onto the bike seat while chasing after a kid learning how to ride a two wheeler. It also means not hesitating when my husband says he wants to go canoeing, or hiking, or camping... or even shoot a few hoops. That's one small thing I could do occasionally, back in the day - grab a rebound or two.
I just want to be healthy, for them. For him.
And maybe, for me.
For years, I have been telling myself that I need to get in some sort of shape (besides round) and that the way to begin doing that is to commit to a 5K. I've never been able to pull the trigger, though - until now.
Getting ready for the Color Run ("The Happiest 5K on the Planet!") has been difficult, because approximately 90% of the time I'm still convinced I can't do this. I have never been successfully athletic in any way. I've been overweight since puberty. I regularly trip over my own two feet and walk into things. In my entire adult life, I have never been anything but a lazy fat girl, far happier being a body at rest than a body in motion. I don't even have "once upon a time, I could do this and I can do it again!" motivating me, because I was never capable of this. There's nothing to get back to - I got Bs and Cs in gym class, for crying out loud. The fastest mile I ever "ran," even as a kid, was over twelve minutes.
Who am I kidding, seriously? Nine out of ten steps I take, that's what I'm asking myself. Who are you kidding, Sarah? You can't do this, at least not without humiliating yourself. My internal monologue is horrifically self-deprecating.
On that tenth step, though... I begin to believe that maybe this time it will be different. Maybe I'm not destined to spend life just holding down my side of the couch. Maybe it's not too late to be physically capable of keeping up with my extremely active children - and really, that's the motivation right there. There are so many things I can't give my kids, so many experiences and luxuries I grew up with that I can't even begin to provide for them. All I can give them is myself, my time, my energy, my focus. That means being healthy enough to not get winded chasing them around a park. It means being able to move fast enough to hold onto the bike seat while chasing after a kid learning how to ride a two wheeler. It also means not hesitating when my husband says he wants to go canoeing, or hiking, or camping... or even shoot a few hoops. That's one small thing I could do occasionally, back in the day - grab a rebound or two.
I just want to be healthy, for them. For him.
And maybe, for me.
Monday, April 15, 2013
30 Things My Kids Should Know About Me
I found this list of questions on Pinterest, and while I don't necessarily think these are things they should know about me right NOW, they're things I'd like them to know eventually, and they're good writing prompts, anyway. I'm just going to park this here and hopefully come back to it to pick at some of it.
1. List 20 random facts about yourself.
2. Describe three legitimate fears you have and explain how they became fears.
3. Describe your relationship with your spouse.
4. List 10 things you would tell your 16 year-old self, if you could.
5. What are the 5 things that make you most happy right now?
6. If you could have three wishes, what would you wish for?
7. What is your dream job, and why?
8. What are 5 passions you have?
9. List 10 people who have influenced you and describe how.
10. Describe your most embarrassing moment.
11. Describe 10 pet peeves you have.
12. Describe a typical day in your current life.
13. What’s the hardest part of growing up?
14. Describe 5 strengths and weaknesses you have.
15. Describe when you knew your spouse was the one or how I fell in love.
16. What are your 5 greatest accomplishments?
17. What is the thing you most wish you were great at?
18. What do you think your spouse loves most about you?
19. How did you feel the moment you became a parent?
20. Describe 3 significant memories from your childhood.
21. Describe your relationship with your parents.
22. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? 10 years? 15 years?
23. What’s your favorite holiday and why?
24. What’s your favorite and least favorite thing about parenthood?
25. If you could have dinner with anyone in history, who would it be and what would you eat?
26. What popular notion do you think the world has most wrong?
27. What is your favorite part of your body and why?
28. What’s your favorite quality in your spouse?
29. What are your hopes and dreams for your prosperity?
30. List 10 things you would hope to be remembered for.
1. List 20 random facts about yourself.
2. Describe three legitimate fears you have and explain how they became fears.
3. Describe your relationship with your spouse.
4. List 10 things you would tell your 16 year-old self, if you could.
5. What are the 5 things that make you most happy right now?
6. If you could have three wishes, what would you wish for?
7. What is your dream job, and why?
8. What are 5 passions you have?
9. List 10 people who have influenced you and describe how.
10. Describe your most embarrassing moment.
11. Describe 10 pet peeves you have.
12. Describe a typical day in your current life.
13. What’s the hardest part of growing up?
14. Describe 5 strengths and weaknesses you have.
15. Describe when you knew your spouse was the one or how I fell in love.
16. What are your 5 greatest accomplishments?
17. What is the thing you most wish you were great at?
18. What do you think your spouse loves most about you?
19. How did you feel the moment you became a parent?
20. Describe 3 significant memories from your childhood.
21. Describe your relationship with your parents.
22. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? 10 years? 15 years?
23. What’s your favorite holiday and why?
24. What’s your favorite and least favorite thing about parenthood?
25. If you could have dinner with anyone in history, who would it be and what would you eat?
26. What popular notion do you think the world has most wrong?
27. What is your favorite part of your body and why?
28. What’s your favorite quality in your spouse?
29. What are your hopes and dreams for your prosperity?
30. List 10 things you would hope to be remembered for.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Retro Post: Sleeping Beauty's Puppy
I originally wrote this on May 12, 2010, shortly after we returned from a trip to Walt Disney World. Elizabeth was almost four years old.
***
The morning we left, Elizabeth was upset. She didn't want to go to Disney World, she wanted to go to school and see her friends. Since I'd left plenty of time in our schedule, I took her to school so she could say goodbye and tell everyone where she was going. That helped a lot. While we were there, we talked to her friend L, who was just at Disney World a week or two ago.
S: L, what was your favorite part of Disney World?
L: Meeting the princesses! And I got to be a princess! Lizzie and I play princesses. I'm Sleeping Beauty and Lizzie is Sleeping Beauty's puppy!
Lizzie: Arf! *grin*
Can I tell you with some shame that my heart stopped during that conversation? And not for any reason you might suspect. I think a lot of moms - more moms than would admit it, I think - spend a lot of time encouraging their daughters to be like them, to do things they liked or wanted to do and couldn't. I'm certainly occasionally guilty of this.
You see, I was that kid who was Sleeping Beauty's puppy. I didn't want to be a princess. I didn't even want to be human most of the time. I don't know why I didn't realize it before now, but Lizzie is exactly like that, like how I was. Her pretend play is NOT centered on anything particularly girly. She prefers stuffed animals to dolls. When playing with friends, I usually had to find some way to work my preferences into games of Barbie or princess or other girly pretend stuff - it usually involved being the pet.
I think most women would be happy to see their daughter acting exactly the way they did as children. But for whatever reason, it breaks my heart a little for Lizzie. It was HARD to be that kid. It was hard to not care about Barbie, or She-Ra, or baby dolls. It made me different, right away. It made me weird, and made it so that a lot of other little girls did not want to play with me because I didn't fit their mold.
She didn't get why so many little girls were dressed as princesses at Disney World. She didn't want that, she had no interest. That's totally fine, although it pissed me off that I couldn't find a Lion King or Aladdin shirt for her.
I'm so proud of her I could burst. But I wanted things to be easier for her than they were for me. It's so much easier to be the princess than the dragon.
***
The morning we left, Elizabeth was upset. She didn't want to go to Disney World, she wanted to go to school and see her friends. Since I'd left plenty of time in our schedule, I took her to school so she could say goodbye and tell everyone where she was going. That helped a lot. While we were there, we talked to her friend L, who was just at Disney World a week or two ago.
S: L, what was your favorite part of Disney World?
L: Meeting the princesses! And I got to be a princess! Lizzie and I play princesses. I'm Sleeping Beauty and Lizzie is Sleeping Beauty's puppy!
Lizzie: Arf! *grin*
Can I tell you with some shame that my heart stopped during that conversation? And not for any reason you might suspect. I think a lot of moms - more moms than would admit it, I think - spend a lot of time encouraging their daughters to be like them, to do things they liked or wanted to do and couldn't. I'm certainly occasionally guilty of this.
You see, I was that kid who was Sleeping Beauty's puppy. I didn't want to be a princess. I didn't even want to be human most of the time. I don't know why I didn't realize it before now, but Lizzie is exactly like that, like how I was. Her pretend play is NOT centered on anything particularly girly. She prefers stuffed animals to dolls. When playing with friends, I usually had to find some way to work my preferences into games of Barbie or princess or other girly pretend stuff - it usually involved being the pet.
I think most women would be happy to see their daughter acting exactly the way they did as children. But for whatever reason, it breaks my heart a little for Lizzie. It was HARD to be that kid. It was hard to not care about Barbie, or She-Ra, or baby dolls. It made me different, right away. It made me weird, and made it so that a lot of other little girls did not want to play with me because I didn't fit their mold.
She didn't get why so many little girls were dressed as princesses at Disney World. She didn't want that, she had no interest. That's totally fine, although it pissed me off that I couldn't find a Lion King or Aladdin shirt for her.
I'm so proud of her I could burst. But I wanted things to be easier for her than they were for me. It's so much easier to be the princess than the dragon.
Elizabeth, totally unimpressed with Ariel
Elizabeth, totally stoked to meet Eeyore
Friday, March 29, 2013
On what becomes memories
My mom played Barry Manilow and Neil Diamond in the car a lot when I was little. I still know all the
words to just about every Manilow song there is, and I can sing along to
the entire soundtrack of The Jazz Singer. In some sad, sick way, I'm
sort of proud of this.
I remember one rainy day in particular when I was about five - I think I'd just started kindergarten, so it was 1984. My mom drove a tan Camaro from the time I was four until I was ten. People often criticized and questioned her for driving a sports car when she had two small children. Her snappy retort was that it was the only time we'd actually fit in the back seat, and what did they expect - her to have a sports car when we were teenagers and could wreck it? (I love my mom's attitude sometimes.) I was sitting in the front seat of the Camaro feeling sorry for myself. I think it was late fall, because I can remember the leaves and the fact that I was wearing my purple corduroy overalls - I was scraping my fingers across the cords to make the fabric look like a grid instead of striped. We were listening to "Heartlight", a Neil Diamond song about ET ("Turn on your heartlight... in the middle of a young boy's dream... Don't wake me up too soon... Gonna take a ride across the moon... You and me...") I was mad because she wouldn't let me keep rewinding the tape to listen to that song over and over again - she made me wait through the whole rest of the tape. I was mad but knew better than to sass her about it, and I was sulking while I watched the wipers squeak back and forth across the windshield. I can still remember what it felt like to be that small, and what the windshield looked like from that low angle in the bucket seat. I can still remember the reds and oranges of the autumn leaves rolling by as we drove past them, on the way to somewhere that seemed very far away at the time.
And while some things still seem so far away... I love the way my memory calls them back to me when I need them.
It makes me wonder what my kids will remember. What am I doing that is inadvertently being etched into their memories? Elizabeth in particular has given me some clues that she seems to remember finer details in the same way that I do. Is it the '90s music that I tend to play in the car? Or maybe the purple and blue skirt that she insists on wearing whenever it's clean? Or (most likely) something that I'm not even considering? I'd like to think it's the good stuff in general, but I know better. I remember a lot of the bad days, and I'm sure she will too. And that's okay. Rose colored glasses, especially looking backwards, never did anyone any favors.
If I'm hoping though, I hope she remembers how much she loved Joan Osbourne's "One of Us," personally. She calls it "The Bus Song" -
What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us?
Just a stranger on the bus
Tryin' to make his way home?
I'll remember, even if she doesn't.
I remember one rainy day in particular when I was about five - I think I'd just started kindergarten, so it was 1984. My mom drove a tan Camaro from the time I was four until I was ten. People often criticized and questioned her for driving a sports car when she had two small children. Her snappy retort was that it was the only time we'd actually fit in the back seat, and what did they expect - her to have a sports car when we were teenagers and could wreck it? (I love my mom's attitude sometimes.) I was sitting in the front seat of the Camaro feeling sorry for myself. I think it was late fall, because I can remember the leaves and the fact that I was wearing my purple corduroy overalls - I was scraping my fingers across the cords to make the fabric look like a grid instead of striped. We were listening to "Heartlight", a Neil Diamond song about ET ("Turn on your heartlight... in the middle of a young boy's dream... Don't wake me up too soon... Gonna take a ride across the moon... You and me...") I was mad because she wouldn't let me keep rewinding the tape to listen to that song over and over again - she made me wait through the whole rest of the tape. I was mad but knew better than to sass her about it, and I was sulking while I watched the wipers squeak back and forth across the windshield. I can still remember what it felt like to be that small, and what the windshield looked like from that low angle in the bucket seat. I can still remember the reds and oranges of the autumn leaves rolling by as we drove past them, on the way to somewhere that seemed very far away at the time.
And while some things still seem so far away... I love the way my memory calls them back to me when I need them.
It makes me wonder what my kids will remember. What am I doing that is inadvertently being etched into their memories? Elizabeth in particular has given me some clues that she seems to remember finer details in the same way that I do. Is it the '90s music that I tend to play in the car? Or maybe the purple and blue skirt that she insists on wearing whenever it's clean? Or (most likely) something that I'm not even considering? I'd like to think it's the good stuff in general, but I know better. I remember a lot of the bad days, and I'm sure she will too. And that's okay. Rose colored glasses, especially looking backwards, never did anyone any favors.
If I'm hoping though, I hope she remembers how much she loved Joan Osbourne's "One of Us," personally. She calls it "The Bus Song" -
What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us?
Just a stranger on the bus
Tryin' to make his way home?
I'll remember, even if she doesn't.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
That was then, this is now.
Today I am 34.
If you told me ten years ago that on my 34th birthday, I would quite happily spend my day attending Palm Sunday services, watching Peter Pan with my husband and kids, and then going roller skating with the Daisy troop I lead - I would have laughed so, so hard.
That's okay though. I just didn't know.
If you told me ten years ago that on my 34th birthday, I would quite happily spend my day attending Palm Sunday services, watching Peter Pan with my husband and kids, and then going roller skating with the Daisy troop I lead - I would have laughed so, so hard.
That's okay though. I just didn't know.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
It Doesn't Matter.
When you have a baby, everyone wants to tell you what to do and how to do it. They tend to speak in absolutes - you MUST do it this way, or you HAVE to do it that way, or the worst - this is what's BEST. You need to do WHAT'S BEST.
If you're not careful, you can start to feel like everyone knows best. Everyone except you.
I'm here to tell you, seven years' worth of advice later (because it starts before you actually give birth, of course) - Most of that crap? It doesn't matter. Most of the things you lose sleep over when your baby is brand new do not matter a hill of beans in just a few short years. And I would argue - they never really mattered that much at all.
For example:
I was on a high horse about breastfeeding for a long time. I was never really an evangelist (and there are some crazy ladies out there pushing the agenda, let me tell you,) but I was super proud of the fact that I nursed two kids, both of them exclusively for six months. I pumped 'round the clock when I went back to work, and they were still nursing from the tap when I was with them - Elizabeth until she was 25 months old and Jacob until he was 21 months old. Neither of my kids ever had formula. While I never actually bragged about that out loud... I did in my head. I patted myself on the back a lot.
Seriously, who cares? Feed your baby. Feed your baby in whatever age appropriate way works for that baby, for you, for your family. I might judge you a little if I see you trying to feed your three month old steak, but Similac? Have at it. Nobody asked me on Elizabeth's first day of kindergarten whether she was breastfed or formula fed. You know why? BECAUSE IT DOESN'T MATTER.
There are a lot of people both on the internet and in real life just ITCHING to judge parents, in whatever way they possibly can. Breastmilk vs. Formula. Cloth vs. Disposable. Cosleeping vs. Crib. Wooden toys vs. Plastic toys. Screen time in ANY FORM. "Overscheduling." Public school vs. Private school vs. homeschooling. The list goes on and on and on and on.
Other people have said this already, but I'm going to say it too - here's what it comes down to, no matter what:
Love your kid. Feed your kid. Spend time with your kid. Teach your kid.
Mostly, love your kid. And leave that other mom who doesn't do it quite the way you do alone.
If you're not careful, you can start to feel like everyone knows best. Everyone except you.
I'm here to tell you, seven years' worth of advice later (because it starts before you actually give birth, of course) - Most of that crap? It doesn't matter. Most of the things you lose sleep over when your baby is brand new do not matter a hill of beans in just a few short years. And I would argue - they never really mattered that much at all.
For example:
I was on a high horse about breastfeeding for a long time. I was never really an evangelist (and there are some crazy ladies out there pushing the agenda, let me tell you,) but I was super proud of the fact that I nursed two kids, both of them exclusively for six months. I pumped 'round the clock when I went back to work, and they were still nursing from the tap when I was with them - Elizabeth until she was 25 months old and Jacob until he was 21 months old. Neither of my kids ever had formula. While I never actually bragged about that out loud... I did in my head. I patted myself on the back a lot.
Seriously, who cares? Feed your baby. Feed your baby in whatever age appropriate way works for that baby, for you, for your family. I might judge you a little if I see you trying to feed your three month old steak, but Similac? Have at it. Nobody asked me on Elizabeth's first day of kindergarten whether she was breastfed or formula fed. You know why? BECAUSE IT DOESN'T MATTER.
There are a lot of people both on the internet and in real life just ITCHING to judge parents, in whatever way they possibly can. Breastmilk vs. Formula. Cloth vs. Disposable. Cosleeping vs. Crib. Wooden toys vs. Plastic toys. Screen time in ANY FORM. "Overscheduling." Public school vs. Private school vs. homeschooling. The list goes on and on and on and on.
Other people have said this already, but I'm going to say it too - here's what it comes down to, no matter what:
Love your kid. Feed your kid. Spend time with your kid. Teach your kid.
Mostly, love your kid. And leave that other mom who doesn't do it quite the way you do alone.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Evolution
2001
Things are always so sparkly when they're new.
2005
Sometimes they even stay that way through the wedding! ;)
2006
But if you're us... you get pregnant on your honeymoon and by your first anniversary, you have a demanding little ball of needs...
...and by your second anniversary, an entire year can go by and suddenly there aren't even any pictures of the two of you together. (2007? What 2007?)
2008
Of course, babies don't usually stay quite so demanding... and for some reason parenthood tends to give people really short memories...
2009
So maybe you make another one.
2010
Once in awhile you might remember to have the photographer snap your picture when you're really there for portraits of the kids. Because you totally get caught up in babies that turn into toddlers that turn into preschoolers... and it just keeps going like that.
2011
I mean, you could occasionally get an evening out for a wedding or something like that.
2012
But mostly? You're juggling these little people and what they need - and somewhere along the line, things changed. A lot.
And that's okay. Because there's always a new path to go down, and honestly? What's the point of all this if you aren't going to let it change you along the way? I'm just happy to be able to keep changing with him.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Construction Zone
Shortly before Dan and I got married, someone who I thought was my friend broke my heart. Without going into the details (which in hindsight seem a little silly to me anyway) let me just say that this particular situation, coupled with a whole lot of rapid changes in my life - marriage, pregnancy, a new baby, parenthood, and most of my day-to-day friends at the time moving cross country - it was a recipe for disaster.
I built up a lot of walls. It wasn't the first time, but in the past I'd built them up, and knocked them down, built them up, and knocked them down. This time - I knew I was not knocking anything down ever again. I was completely uninterested in making new friends, even though our status as new parents almost necessitated it. I was done with making myself vulnerable. I had a new marriage and a new baby to protect, letting anyone else into my fragile heart seemed like a monumentally stupid idea.
You can't stop it, though. Or at least I can't seem to, even when I'm actively trying. I've always had a bit of a sense for walking into new situations and being able to zero in on the one or two people in the room who might eventually become important to me in some way. Sometimes it takes awhile for it to actually play out, but I'm rarely wrong - and I often have very clear memories of our earliest encounters, or even just the first time I see someone. Even so, I've spent the last several years keeping people at arms' length - even people who my gut has told me are the right ones.
Some of them have probably slipped away. But some didn't, and let me tell you - I am crazy lucky for it. Someone who is now very dear to me had to actually say to me two or three times "Hey - feel free to cultivate a friendship with me" - and it took me months and months to actually do so. I am so fortunate that she didn't just shrug her shoulders and give me up as a lost cause.
What I'm trying to say, and not doing it very well - is that it's nice to have friends again. It has taken a very, very long time. But I think I have finally built some doors and windows into my walls.
I built up a lot of walls. It wasn't the first time, but in the past I'd built them up, and knocked them down, built them up, and knocked them down. This time - I knew I was not knocking anything down ever again. I was completely uninterested in making new friends, even though our status as new parents almost necessitated it. I was done with making myself vulnerable. I had a new marriage and a new baby to protect, letting anyone else into my fragile heart seemed like a monumentally stupid idea.
You can't stop it, though. Or at least I can't seem to, even when I'm actively trying. I've always had a bit of a sense for walking into new situations and being able to zero in on the one or two people in the room who might eventually become important to me in some way. Sometimes it takes awhile for it to actually play out, but I'm rarely wrong - and I often have very clear memories of our earliest encounters, or even just the first time I see someone. Even so, I've spent the last several years keeping people at arms' length - even people who my gut has told me are the right ones.
Some of them have probably slipped away. But some didn't, and let me tell you - I am crazy lucky for it. Someone who is now very dear to me had to actually say to me two or three times "Hey - feel free to cultivate a friendship with me" - and it took me months and months to actually do so. I am so fortunate that she didn't just shrug her shoulders and give me up as a lost cause.
What I'm trying to say, and not doing it very well - is that it's nice to have friends again. It has taken a very, very long time. But I think I have finally built some doors and windows into my walls.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Slipping through my fingers
I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete
Oh simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
I came across a fallen tree
I felt the branches of it looking at me
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?
Oh simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
And if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know?
Oh simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
And if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go? So why don't we go?
Oh, this could be the end of everything
So why don't we go somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know?
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Transformation
One day last summer, a friend of mine was babysitting another friend's three year old son. Knowing the boys would be attending the same preschool in the fall, she invited Jacob and me over to play.
It could not have gone worse.
Jacob started wailing before we were even on the porch. "I DON'T WANNA PLAY! I DON'T WANNA MEET A FRIEND!" NO NO NO NO NO!" When we stepped inside, he just started crying harder. While I tried unsuccessfully to calm him down, he was actually climbing me like a tree, trying to get as far away as possible from my friend - and a child who is possibly the least threatening preschooler you can imagine. After several minutes of Jacob sobbing like I was trying to kill him and showing NO signs of calming down whatsoever - I gave up, shrugged at my friend and apologized, and we left.
That day was replaying in my head over and over while I tried to prepare Jacob for preschool. He was unenthusiastic at best about park play dates with the kids who would be his new classmates. He did not want to talk about going to school at all. He would barely look at his teacher when we met with her. Worst of all, on our "practice" day of school before school actually started, he clung to my side and would not even consider participating in circle time.
When school actually started, Jacob surprised me by actually letting me leave him there (even though he cried in the van on the way for several weeks,) but I still had serious concerns and spent many mornings waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Fast forward five months.
Jacob is so happy at school. He has friends - and one of them is the little boy he wouldn't even look at over the summer. He barely even waves goodbye when I drop him off. His teacher tells me that he is eager to try whatever activities are laid out for the day, he participates in circle time and music time, and often takes on leadership roles with his peers. I get to see it for myself when I assist in his classroom. He is a totally different child, in a wonderful way. Watching him blossom like this does my mama heart so much good, let me tell you. I never worried about Elizabeth in group settings - she always thrived in them. But to have those concerns about Jacob and then to have them just melt away with a little bit of time, a loving teacher, and a supportive cooperative preschool environment... it's like magic.
So proud of this boy.
It could not have gone worse.
Jacob started wailing before we were even on the porch. "I DON'T WANNA PLAY! I DON'T WANNA MEET A FRIEND!" NO NO NO NO NO!" When we stepped inside, he just started crying harder. While I tried unsuccessfully to calm him down, he was actually climbing me like a tree, trying to get as far away as possible from my friend - and a child who is possibly the least threatening preschooler you can imagine. After several minutes of Jacob sobbing like I was trying to kill him and showing NO signs of calming down whatsoever - I gave up, shrugged at my friend and apologized, and we left.
That day was replaying in my head over and over while I tried to prepare Jacob for preschool. He was unenthusiastic at best about park play dates with the kids who would be his new classmates. He did not want to talk about going to school at all. He would barely look at his teacher when we met with her. Worst of all, on our "practice" day of school before school actually started, he clung to my side and would not even consider participating in circle time.
When school actually started, Jacob surprised me by actually letting me leave him there (even though he cried in the van on the way for several weeks,) but I still had serious concerns and spent many mornings waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Fast forward five months.
Jacob is so happy at school. He has friends - and one of them is the little boy he wouldn't even look at over the summer. He barely even waves goodbye when I drop him off. His teacher tells me that he is eager to try whatever activities are laid out for the day, he participates in circle time and music time, and often takes on leadership roles with his peers. I get to see it for myself when I assist in his classroom. He is a totally different child, in a wonderful way. Watching him blossom like this does my mama heart so much good, let me tell you. I never worried about Elizabeth in group settings - she always thrived in them. But to have those concerns about Jacob and then to have them just melt away with a little bit of time, a loving teacher, and a supportive cooperative preschool environment... it's like magic.
So proud of this boy.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Embracing Ordinary
So give me my chance, and give me my wings
And don't make me think about everyday things
They're unnecessary
To someone who is very
Extraordinary
Like me
~"Extraordinary", from Pippin
~"Extraordinary", from Pippin
circa 2003
That girl? She had it all figured out. She was going to have it all, and go everywhere, and do everything. She was in grad school, and she KNEW THINGS, MAN. She had a good entry level job in her chosen career, had been promised a promotion upon completion of her MA (which never materialized, but that's another story) and she was about to get engaged to a guy she was head over heels madly in love with. The whole exciting world of adulthood sprawled out in front of her, the possibilities seemingly endless. She was going to do BIG, IMPORTANT stuff. She didn't know what it was yet, but SHE WAS GOING TO DO IT.
And she tried to, for a long time. She worked really hard at being everything to everyone. She finished her MA, she got married, she got pregnant, she helped launch one of the largest projects her workplace had ever been involved in, she had a baby, she found the perfect daycare and went back to work, and then she had another baby, and went back to work again. She spent a lot of time applying for and interviewing for high profile positions around the country - often landing the interview, but never closing the deal.
She had it all, or very close to it anyway. And she was miserable.
On a blazing hot day during the summer of 2010, I'd had a particularly rough day in a long series of rough days. I was standing in a swarm of kids with a clipboard full of the names of other people's children. In a moment of clarity, it occurred to me that a few miles away, someone else was standing in a similar swarm, with a clipboard with my children's names on it. I was paying dearly for the privilege - daycare costs for two very young children exceeded my income by more than I care to admit, but I had it in my head that I needed to hang on to my job and my career at all costs. I still needed to be and pursue everything. I was still chasing extraordinary.
Morning glow, morning glow
Starts to glimmer when you know
Winds of change are set to blow
And sweep this whole land through
Morning glow is long past due
~"Morning Glow", from Pippin
August 2010, the weekend after I (unknowingly)
closed my summer program for the last time.
On a blazing hot day during the summer of 2010, I'd had a particularly rough day in a long series of rough days. I was standing in a swarm of kids with a clipboard full of the names of other people's children. In a moment of clarity, it occurred to me that a few miles away, someone else was standing in a similar swarm, with a clipboard with my children's names on it. I was paying dearly for the privilege - daycare costs for two very young children exceeded my income by more than I care to admit, but I had it in my head that I needed to hang on to my job and my career at all costs. I still needed to be and pursue everything. I was still chasing extraordinary.
Things
were tense at home. Money was tight, we were both overworked and
exhausted, and the kids were responding negatively to our stress -
especially mine.
That
fall, Dan was exasperated and worried because I was basically never
happy and constantly lashing out at everyone. One evening on the ride
home from work, he interrupted my litany of complaints with something he
had said before but that I'd never really heard:
"Why don't you just quit and stay home with the kids?"
Every
other time he'd said it, I'd dismissed it completely, both verbally and
internally. This time was different. I still blew it off in the
moment... but something in my brain clicked, and I let the thought
marinate for a little while.
Why not? Why DIDN'T I just stay home with the kids?
The
truth was - I was scared. I was scared that I didn't have it in me to
be what they needed, even though I had spent a decade working with
literally thousands of children. And I was even more scared to leave
behind my career... what I saw as my last path to being different,
special. If I walked away now, what was I? Just another stay at home
mom? There's no way to parlay that into anything extraordinary. Even
though the writing was on the wall, I still let myself rage against it
for a little while longer, unwilling to purposely shrink my world.
Everything has its season
Everything has its time
Show me a reason and I'll soon show you a rhyme
Cats fit on the windowsill
Children fit in the snow
Why do I feel I don't fit in anywhere I go?
~"Corner of the Sky", from Pippin
May 2011, filled with angst on my last day at work.
(For the record, I cheered up after a whole lot of sangria.)
I was ready to leave my job - I'd been ready for a long time. But I wasn't really ready for what it meant to be a full time stay at home mom. I struggled - and still struggle - with guilt and worry. I cocooned myself and the kids into a simple routine that made it possible for me to avoid interacting with most people. I didn't know where I fit in. I felt cut off from my old community, even when it reached out to me and tried to support me in our new situation. I avoided old friends and didn't even let myself dream of making new ones. I was terrified of seeking out a new community, although I was basically forced to find a place in one anyway when Elizabeth started kindergarten. It was a tumultuous time, and after about a year or so I began to wonder if I would ever evolve past feeling like a stranger in my life, in my kids' lives.
Rivers belong where they can ramble
Eagles belong where they can fly
I'm not a river or a giant bird
That soars to the sea
And if I'm never tied to anything
I'll never be free
I wanted magic shows and miracles
Mirages to touch
I wanted such a little thing from life
I wanted so much
We never came close, my love
We never came near
It never was there
I think it was here
"Magic Shows and Miracles", from Pippin
Morning glow, by your light
We can make the new day bright
And the phantoms of the night
Will fade into the past
Morning glow is here at last
"Morning Glow", from Pippin
"Magic Shows and Miracles", from Pippin
Late last spring, several things happened at once. Elizabeth finished kindergarten and turned six. Together, we finished our first year together with her girl scout troop - leading it was the one big thing I'd forced myself to take on, because I wanted that experience for her so badly, and there was no troop for her at her school. Jacob began attending weekly play dates with the children who would be in his preschool class in the fall. We launched into a busy summer full of swimming lessons and day camps and library workshops and trips to the pool and t-ball games. In the midst of all that sunshine and activity, I somehow found myself breathing easier... enjoying myself. I was actually talking to the other adults around me. The skeptical side of me figured it would pass, it was just the pleasant, carefree pace of summer that had me feeling better about things. I hadn't had an easy summer in ten years; when I was working it was the busiest time of year for me because of the nature of my job.
To my shock... the feeling stuck. I found myself looking forward to fall, to scouts, to preschool. I felt comfortable in my own skin again - even though everything, every detail about my life was nothing truly notable. I'd actually go so far as to say that this is the most comfortable with myself and my choices that I've ever felt, and there is something so very freeing about that. I no longer equate "extraordinary" and "worthwhile" - which I never even consciously realized I was doing until recently.
Everything about life these days is ordinary, unremarkable... and totally worthwhile.
Morning glow, by your light
We can make the new day bright
And the phantoms of the night
Will fade into the past
Morning glow is here at last
"Morning Glow", from Pippin
October 2012, and finally settling in.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Sunset
Dear 2012,
Despite the trials of the last several weeks... I need to thank you. Thank you for reminding me to look for the sun. Thank you for teaching me that I am, in fact, quality SAHM material. Thank you for a beautiful summer full of great times with the kids and the beginnings of so many new paths in our lives. I believe something in me woke up this summer, something in me began to truly heal and allow me to move forward and pursue new friendships again. Thank you for Triangle and everything it has already done for Jacob and for me. Thank you for 23 amazing Daisies and the opportunity to help them (and me!) grow every week, and for two wonderful co-leaders and friends to share the journey with. Thank you for my beautiful niece; it's unbelievable to me how much I adore her. Thank you for leading me back to church; I don't know how I would have gotten through the last several weeks without the return of that peace and ritual to my life. Thank you for my husband and his steadily improving health; please let 2013 restore and renew us both. Thank you for a beautiful Christmas and the calm and confidence it brought me.
You were not without growing pains, 2012. You were not without heartache and hardship. But the lessons learned have been worth it.
My humble gratitude,
S
Sunday, December 30, 2012
The Deep End
I have a confession to make.
I am spoiled. Spoiled beyond belief. My husband? He has always done the lion's share of the housework, including the cooking. He is also a super involved dad, and never hesitates to take on anything involving the kids - although stuff specific to the kids has always been my arena and largely my calls, even when I was working outside the home full time. But the household details like dinner? Laundry? Grocery shopping? Dan has always taken care of that stuff, leaving me to focus fully on the kids and their needs. And even though it probably should have, that didn't change much when I left my job.
We rolled along like that for a long time. Right up until Thanksgiving, in fact.
Then, on Thanksgiving, Dan suffered a spontaneous pneumothorax (translation: collapsed lung) that refused to heal. Between Thanksgiving and mid-December, he was hospitalized three times, culminating in an invasive surgery that hopefully has fixed the problem, but we honestly won't know for sure for awhile yet. In addition to feeling like you'd expect a guy whose lung won't stay un-collapsed to feel AND recovering from major surgery, Dan has some pretty specific limitations right now. He is not supposed to lift more than ten pounds, he can't drive, and he has almost no stamina. And although he is definitely slowly but surely on the mend, as you can imagine, he's a little frustrated.
Especially since he also has two small kids and a spoiled wife.
We could not have survived the hospitalizations without the help of our family and friends. My parents took the kids overnight several times, my mom burned up some sick time coming to stay with the kids so I could be at the hospital with Dan. Dear friends helped me shuffle around kids and cars, sat with us in the hospital, brought food, texted constantly... we were never alone. Help, love, and support came to us from every corner. If this entire ordeal has taught me nothing else, it has taught me just how very blessed we are.
I have to tell you though - when it comes to stuff around the house? I have STEPPED UP. I am taking care of business, man. I have done all the laundry. I have done all the housework. I have handled almost every single meal since Thanksgiving. I re-learned how to grocery shop, because I haven't had to grocery shop in seven years.
Judge if you must. But let me say - in addition to learning how blessed we are by the people who surround us - I have also learned just exactly how strong I am. I have never had much confidence in myself... until now. I can DO this! I AM doing this. Every day. Not alone - never alone. We get by with a little help from our friends, and sometimes it's a lot of help. But I don't think I'll ever feel helpless again, at least not when it comes to little day to day things that I used to find unbearably overwhelming.
It definitely sucks for Dan that this happened, don't get me wrong. But the silver lining is that when life finally tossed me in the deep end - I found out, without a shadow of a doubt, that I can swim.
I am spoiled. Spoiled beyond belief. My husband? He has always done the lion's share of the housework, including the cooking. He is also a super involved dad, and never hesitates to take on anything involving the kids - although stuff specific to the kids has always been my arena and largely my calls, even when I was working outside the home full time. But the household details like dinner? Laundry? Grocery shopping? Dan has always taken care of that stuff, leaving me to focus fully on the kids and their needs. And even though it probably should have, that didn't change much when I left my job.
We rolled along like that for a long time. Right up until Thanksgiving, in fact.
Then, on Thanksgiving, Dan suffered a spontaneous pneumothorax (translation: collapsed lung) that refused to heal. Between Thanksgiving and mid-December, he was hospitalized three times, culminating in an invasive surgery that hopefully has fixed the problem, but we honestly won't know for sure for awhile yet. In addition to feeling like you'd expect a guy whose lung won't stay un-collapsed to feel AND recovering from major surgery, Dan has some pretty specific limitations right now. He is not supposed to lift more than ten pounds, he can't drive, and he has almost no stamina. And although he is definitely slowly but surely on the mend, as you can imagine, he's a little frustrated.
Especially since he also has two small kids and a spoiled wife.
We could not have survived the hospitalizations without the help of our family and friends. My parents took the kids overnight several times, my mom burned up some sick time coming to stay with the kids so I could be at the hospital with Dan. Dear friends helped me shuffle around kids and cars, sat with us in the hospital, brought food, texted constantly... we were never alone. Help, love, and support came to us from every corner. If this entire ordeal has taught me nothing else, it has taught me just how very blessed we are.
I have to tell you though - when it comes to stuff around the house? I have STEPPED UP. I am taking care of business, man. I have done all the laundry. I have done all the housework. I have handled almost every single meal since Thanksgiving. I re-learned how to grocery shop, because I haven't had to grocery shop in seven years.
Judge if you must. But let me say - in addition to learning how blessed we are by the people who surround us - I have also learned just exactly how strong I am. I have never had much confidence in myself... until now. I can DO this! I AM doing this. Every day. Not alone - never alone. We get by with a little help from our friends, and sometimes it's a lot of help. But I don't think I'll ever feel helpless again, at least not when it comes to little day to day things that I used to find unbearably overwhelming.
It definitely sucks for Dan that this happened, don't get me wrong. But the silver lining is that when life finally tossed me in the deep end - I found out, without a shadow of a doubt, that I can swim.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Sweet freedom whispered in my ear
I admit it, I skipped the hard part.
I was never a SAHM to infants; Elizabeth was almost five and Jacob was two when I resigned. In fact, it's probably pretty much cheating to embark on a SAHM adventure when your kid is starting kindergarten, but oh well. Honestly - I feel like Elizabeth needs me at home more now than she ever did as a baby or toddler, and I don't see that changing any time soon. Being an at-home parent to a school age kid allows me to be present in other parts of her life in a way that my particular career never would have allowed. People have already started asking me what I'm going to do when Jacob starts kindergarten - and right now, I hope the answer is "this."
It means I can lead a girl scout troop.
It means I can volunteer in classrooms.
It means the kids can be in almost any activity, no matter what time it is.
And it means I can *gasp* pursue some of my own interests! Cultivate friendships! Read without anyone screaming in the background! Shame on me for admitting it! But the freedom that comes with Jacob being in school even just two mornings a week is intoxicating, and has definitely left me wanting more.
Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater, I know. ;)
I was never a SAHM to infants; Elizabeth was almost five and Jacob was two when I resigned. In fact, it's probably pretty much cheating to embark on a SAHM adventure when your kid is starting kindergarten, but oh well. Honestly - I feel like Elizabeth needs me at home more now than she ever did as a baby or toddler, and I don't see that changing any time soon. Being an at-home parent to a school age kid allows me to be present in other parts of her life in a way that my particular career never would have allowed. People have already started asking me what I'm going to do when Jacob starts kindergarten - and right now, I hope the answer is "this."
It means I can lead a girl scout troop.
It means I can volunteer in classrooms.
It means the kids can be in almost any activity, no matter what time it is.
And it means I can *gasp* pursue some of my own interests! Cultivate friendships! Read without anyone screaming in the background! Shame on me for admitting it! But the freedom that comes with Jacob being in school even just two mornings a week is intoxicating, and has definitely left me wanting more.
Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater, I know. ;)
Friday, September 14, 2012
Fake it til you make it? Check.
It has been about sixteen months since anyone has paid me for my work in anything besides love. When I first left my job, I adamantly told myself and anyone who would listen that this was temporary; that I was going to continue to actively seek work, and soon something would come up that would be a better fit for me either financially or mentally or both. And for a long time, I did apply to a lot of jobs - I threw my name in the hat for anything that seemed like it could work. I even went on an interview (that was a disaster, but that's okay.)
I'm not sure when exactly it happened... but I stopped checking the job boards daily. Maybe it was when I was in the thick of my first year as a girl scout leader. I have done my best to treat that particular gig as a job, and it has paid off in so many ways, both for me and for the girls. Maybe it was when I bit the bullet and entered my son in a lottery for a cooperative nursery school - easy on the budget compared to full time daycare, but definitely NOT something I could have ever done while working full time. And then when he actually got in - I didn't even think twice about enrolling him, effectively sealing our fate until at least May 2013, because there's no way I can work and participate in this co-op with him at the same time.
Sometimes I DO think about it in terms of that phone call, the one that came from the membership coordinator of the co-op to let us know that Jacob had "won" a spot in the lottery. Before the call came, our future seemed so nebulous, so up in the air. I had qualms about ANY preschool that wasn't our beloved but expensive day care center that had been so good to my daughter, and although I'd loved the co-op's teacher as soon as I met her and was impressed by how open and friendly everyone seemed, some part of me felt like I was betraying the wonderful people who had been such an integral part of our family when I was still working outside the home. I almost dreaded finding out whether he got a spot or not, because I didn't know what I wanted the answer to be.
And then, with a ring of the phone, he was in. And I was immediately and irreversibly ELATED. All the uncertainty melted away. It was the Right Thing for him, for us.
And suddenly, being at home was the Right Thing for him, for us - FOR ME.
Yeah. For me, too. Believe me, I'm just as surprised as you are.
Right after I left my job, I felt like an imposter. Last summer the kids and I would be at the park or the pool or the store or something like that, and I'd feel like the police were going to burst out of the bushes and bust me for playing hooky - THIS WOMAN IS SUPPOSED TO BE AT WORK! WHAT IS SHE DOING OUT HERE ON A WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON? Of course, nobody ever gave us a second glance. Inside though, I was filled with fear - fear that I'd made the wrong choice, for the kids, for myself - for all of us. The way I felt after I got that phone call set me free from all that uncertainty in some way that I didn't really identify at the time, but it's so clear in hindsight.
That was last winter. On Monday, my sweet boy begins preschool, two mornings a week. Here he is with the tote bag he painted with his teacher for bringing home his artwork and other treasures.
It will probably be a bumpy transition for both of us, but we'll get the hang of it, and we'll come out just fine on the other side.
I no longer feel like an imposter in my own life, which is just so liberating. As long summer days with my kids fade into the structure and constant run around of the school year, I am strangely at peace with the hustle and bustle. Planning for scouts, learning the co-op ropes, driving the gymnastics car pool... Life is hectic, but oh so rewarding.
I haven't looked for a job in months and months... because I'm finally settling in to the one I have now. And I couldn't love it more.
I'm not sure when exactly it happened... but I stopped checking the job boards daily. Maybe it was when I was in the thick of my first year as a girl scout leader. I have done my best to treat that particular gig as a job, and it has paid off in so many ways, both for me and for the girls. Maybe it was when I bit the bullet and entered my son in a lottery for a cooperative nursery school - easy on the budget compared to full time daycare, but definitely NOT something I could have ever done while working full time. And then when he actually got in - I didn't even think twice about enrolling him, effectively sealing our fate until at least May 2013, because there's no way I can work and participate in this co-op with him at the same time.
Sometimes I DO think about it in terms of that phone call, the one that came from the membership coordinator of the co-op to let us know that Jacob had "won" a spot in the lottery. Before the call came, our future seemed so nebulous, so up in the air. I had qualms about ANY preschool that wasn't our beloved but expensive day care center that had been so good to my daughter, and although I'd loved the co-op's teacher as soon as I met her and was impressed by how open and friendly everyone seemed, some part of me felt like I was betraying the wonderful people who had been such an integral part of our family when I was still working outside the home. I almost dreaded finding out whether he got a spot or not, because I didn't know what I wanted the answer to be.
And then, with a ring of the phone, he was in. And I was immediately and irreversibly ELATED. All the uncertainty melted away. It was the Right Thing for him, for us.
And suddenly, being at home was the Right Thing for him, for us - FOR ME.
Yeah. For me, too. Believe me, I'm just as surprised as you are.
Right after I left my job, I felt like an imposter. Last summer the kids and I would be at the park or the pool or the store or something like that, and I'd feel like the police were going to burst out of the bushes and bust me for playing hooky - THIS WOMAN IS SUPPOSED TO BE AT WORK! WHAT IS SHE DOING OUT HERE ON A WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON? Of course, nobody ever gave us a second glance. Inside though, I was filled with fear - fear that I'd made the wrong choice, for the kids, for myself - for all of us. The way I felt after I got that phone call set me free from all that uncertainty in some way that I didn't really identify at the time, but it's so clear in hindsight.
That was last winter. On Monday, my sweet boy begins preschool, two mornings a week. Here he is with the tote bag he painted with his teacher for bringing home his artwork and other treasures.
It will probably be a bumpy transition for both of us, but we'll get the hang of it, and we'll come out just fine on the other side.
I no longer feel like an imposter in my own life, which is just so liberating. As long summer days with my kids fade into the structure and constant run around of the school year, I am strangely at peace with the hustle and bustle. Planning for scouts, learning the co-op ropes, driving the gymnastics car pool... Life is hectic, but oh so rewarding.
I haven't looked for a job in months and months... because I'm finally settling in to the one I have now. And I couldn't love it more.
Monday, August 27, 2012
The Oak Tree and the Cypress
Seven years ago today I married this man:
in a lovely little ceremony in a conference room of a Radisson in Bloomfield Hills. We were blessed to be surrounded by most of our favorite people in the world. My aunt performed the ceremony, which included readings from the Song of Solomon and Khalil Gibran's "The Prophet." None of the drama leading up to the wedding (isn't there always drama leading up to a wedding?) mattered. How the universe managed to bring me this man, born on the other side of the planet and then adopted into a family that lived all over the U.S. before landing here in Michigan, I'll never know. "God works in mysterious ways" is so cliche, but also so true.
You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness, and let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love. Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each others cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each of you be alone, even as the strings of a lute are alone though the quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each others keeping, for only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together, for the pillars of the temple stand apart, and the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each others shadow.
~Gibran
Then, in no time at all, despite medical evidence that it would not happen so easily, we became parents to an amazing little girl...
and a few years later, her equally amazing little brother.
They grew...
And we grew...
And we continue to grow. And I will tell you, it is not always easy. Facebook and the internet in general have this way of helping everyone put their best foot forward - it allows you to literally edit out the messy stuff and present all the best parts of your life to the world at large without the balance of that day you went to the grocery store with your shirt on inside out and then proceeded to run into everyone you know, or those times when you're both so tired that you end up bickering over things so stupid it wasn't even worth the breath to argue about it. Behind all those pretty internet fronts, there's a real family, with real problems and real issues and real day to day drudgery that few people ever know about.
But there's real love, too.
in a lovely little ceremony in a conference room of a Radisson in Bloomfield Hills. We were blessed to be surrounded by most of our favorite people in the world. My aunt performed the ceremony, which included readings from the Song of Solomon and Khalil Gibran's "The Prophet." None of the drama leading up to the wedding (isn't there always drama leading up to a wedding?) mattered. How the universe managed to bring me this man, born on the other side of the planet and then adopted into a family that lived all over the U.S. before landing here in Michigan, I'll never know. "God works in mysterious ways" is so cliche, but also so true.
You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness, and let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love. Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each others cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each of you be alone, even as the strings of a lute are alone though the quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each others keeping, for only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together, for the pillars of the temple stand apart, and the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each others shadow.
~Gibran
Then, in no time at all, despite medical evidence that it would not happen so easily, we became parents to an amazing little girl...
and a few years later, her equally amazing little brother.
They grew...
And we grew...
And we continue to grow. And I will tell you, it is not always easy. Facebook and the internet in general have this way of helping everyone put their best foot forward - it allows you to literally edit out the messy stuff and present all the best parts of your life to the world at large without the balance of that day you went to the grocery store with your shirt on inside out and then proceeded to run into everyone you know, or those times when you're both so tired that you end up bickering over things so stupid it wasn't even worth the breath to argue about it. Behind all those pretty internet fronts, there's a real family, with real problems and real issues and real day to day drudgery that few people ever know about.
But there's real love, too.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Jake and Jake and the Neverland Pirates
So, on Monday we were at Target. Target had a massive display of toys from the Disney Junior show Jake and the Neverland Pirates, which both my kids love, but Jacob REALLY loves. He was beside himself with excitement over Jake spyglasses, Jake action figures, and most of all, a big Jake pirate ship. Never mind that he already HAS a large toy pirate ship. THIS pirate ship is a JAKE pirate ship. And Tic Toc Crock pops out of it! Oh my.
Anyway, Monday was a bit of a circus, since I needed to go to seemingly every single store in Ann Arbor to prepare for Elizabeth's birthday this weekend. Jacob was really a very good sport about it, so I let him use some of his piggy bank money to buy himself a Jake spyglass. It hasn't left his side since. But he's also been talking about this pirate ship nonstop. This morning in the car, the following conversation happened...
J: Mama, I really want that Jake pirate ship. Can I use my piggy bank to get it?
S: You don't have enough money in your piggy bank for it, buddy. And you already have a pirate ship!
J: Can you put the money in my piggy bank for the pirate ship?
S: Sorry buddy, no. If you want that pirate ship, you should probably talk to Santa or wait for your birthday.
J: ...I'll talk to Santa if he'll give me the money to put in my piggy bank so I can buy that pirate ship!
S: ...
Anyway, Monday was a bit of a circus, since I needed to go to seemingly every single store in Ann Arbor to prepare for Elizabeth's birthday this weekend. Jacob was really a very good sport about it, so I let him use some of his piggy bank money to buy himself a Jake spyglass. It hasn't left his side since. But he's also been talking about this pirate ship nonstop. This morning in the car, the following conversation happened...
J: Mama, I really want that Jake pirate ship. Can I use my piggy bank to get it?
S: You don't have enough money in your piggy bank for it, buddy. And you already have a pirate ship!
J: Can you put the money in my piggy bank for the pirate ship?
S: Sorry buddy, no. If you want that pirate ship, you should probably talk to Santa or wait for your birthday.
J: ...I'll talk to Santa if he'll give me the money to put in my piggy bank so I can buy that pirate ship!
S: ...
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
A Prayer for Jacob
Lord, day in and day out, you see me with this child. You watch me fumble, you hear me shout too much. You see us curled up on the couch with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and the laptop too often. You see me cut up the same grapes and hot dogs for lunch. You see the tantrums - and they aren't just his.
Help me know that I have made an acceptable choice for this little boy, and reassure me when I see so much of myself in him. Lord, you know I didn't put my career on hold because I thought I could do this better than the fine folks he enjoyed so much time with before. Calm my fear that his days would be better spent with people besides me. Remind me that he is not his sister - and that's okay. When things that worked with her at this age fall flat with him, it's just because he's a different child in a different situation, not because I am somehow inadequate.
Let me cherish every time he crawls into my lap, let me joyfully kiss every boo-boo - because I know how fleeting these days are, and I can feel them slipping through my fingers already.When he chooses plastic novelty coconuts from the dollar store as his most cherished toy of the moment, let me revel in that uniqueness - and let me remember it so I can tell everyone about it for a long time, too. Let me always remember how sensitive he is, and may I never fall into the "raising boys" trap of "toughening" him up. He is just as perfect when he is covering his ears because the mixer is too loud as he is when he is pounding on bookshelves with his toy hammer. Help me stop before I yell, because I know the hurt in his eyes when I do, and I don't want to inflict it anymore, even if he DID scratch up the wall with a Matchbox car YET AGAIN.
Grant me the patience to build train tracks that run the entire length of the house. Help me not throw the remote control at the television on the 500th viewing of Mickey's Space Adventure. Let me see past that obnoxious squawking noise he makes when he's frustrated to the problem underneath, and help me to work through it with him with patience - even if he's squawking about about some lost Playmobil piece for the 17th time in an hour. And Lord, please let the purple play dough come out of the area rug. Please.
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