The Mommies' Diaries…Parenting, One Blog at a Time.

It’s no secret that the adjustment from one child to two, has been nothing short of….challenging.  And just like most surprises in life,  my expectations are to blame for my misguided fantasy of what our reality would be.

I have often written about how inherently sweet DJ is.  I have shared before that I prayed for her tender temperament the whole time I was pregnant – and truly believe those prayers were answered.  DJ is always the first to notice the sound of a crying child, and is also the first to lend comfort to that same child. So, naturally, I thought she’d be a wonderful big sister – and she is.  I thought she’d slip right into the role of helper – and she has. Kinda.

But, she’s also 2 1/2.

While I knew that having another child would be a big adjustment for DJ, I hadn’t anticipated how the emotional impact of that adjustment would manifest as super duper not-at-all-like-the-DJ-we-know naughty behavior.  I had also failed to anticipate how the “Terrible Twos” would make this transition all the more difficult. Silly me.

I’m a stay-at-home mom, so my breaks from the über taxing aspects of parenting are non-existent. At any given moment, I am simultaneously managing any of the following tasks: Calming a tantrum, changing a diaper, reading “Fancy Nancy”, breastfeeding, playing blocks, feeding dogs, feeding cats, writing a grocery list, wiping a bum, doing laundry, removing jelly beans from nostrils, etc. The list goes on, but I can already feel your eyes rolling as you cue the violin notes. I have never said that I’m not lucky to be home with my children – but I also don’t think I’ve ever outwardly acknowledged just how hard it is. It’s hard.  Really hard. And I realized that I needed more help.

Enter my gratitude for technology. Since having Baby Z, my husband and DJ have naturally grown closer. She is learning to depend on him a bit more as my availability just isn’t what it used to be. As a result of her growing adoration for her daddy, she is listening to him much more intently, and obediently, than she does to me. This is great when the hubs is home, but what about the majority of each week that he spends at work?

FaceTime.

Yep, hubs has made a habit of calling DJ a few times each day on FaceTime. He calls my cell phone, and they chat face-to-face for about two minutes. He asks her if she’s being a good girl, if she’s been controlling her “freak outs,” if she’s listening to mommy, etc. He then ends the call with a promise to give DJ a treat when he gets home if mom (that’d be me!) gives a good report. And yes, we are bribing our child with things like candy and new crayons – but it works, and right now, I’m just trying to survive.

This concept of “virtual parenting” is new in our household, but it’s effective. Sure, DJ and her daddy have always Skyped when he’s had to travel for work, but this is different – it’s actually active parenting. DJ is learning that although he’s out of the house, her daddy is ever-present.  She’s learning that she has two parents with equal authority, and that she can’t get away with bad behavior just because I am being pulled in a million directions.  Someone else is holding her accountable.  And someone else has my back.

Believe it or not, this has also done wonders to bridge the daily gap between DJ and her daddy as she misses him at work each day.  Because they get to check-in throughout the day, there’s not that awkward period of getting reacquainted every night.  It’s kind of a win win.

Once Baby Z and I fall into a rhythm and I have a better handle on….life, then perhaps we’ll be able to say au revoire to the man behind the curtain, but for now – this is working, and why fix what ain’t broke?

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.  I could literally feel the bad mood heavy upon my shoulders – and yet, it was a force that I couldn’t shake.  Sometimes, just being aware that something exists isn’t enough to chase it away.  And sometimes still, willing it to go away just isn’t enough either.  So, rather than expending energy that I didn’t have trying to chase something away that wouldn’t budge, I just decided to let it linger.

The brown sugar and cinnamon Pop-Tart that I’m eating while I write this, however, is making great strides in taking me to a happier place.

I am going to begin by blaming my Grumpy Pants on raging hormones.  I just read that in the third trimester, mood swings make an ugly reappearance.  This is a legitimate fact, straight from babycenter.com.  And now, I am going to hop off the passive, I-have-no-control train, and take some responsibility.  In between bouts of wanting to rip someone’s eyes out, and wanting to pull the covers tightly over my head where no one could witness me eat an entire box of cookies (which I don’t actually have in the house, and that’s really pissing me off!) – I have been analyzing why this mood might be.

Here’s the deal.  I’m tired, and I am carrying around a boatload of guilt about being tired.  I woke up exhausted this morning. I am no longer sleeping because my hips ache, my lower back is on fire, and my groin feels as though it’s been held in tact by a fraying fiber.  Tossing and turning all night doesn’t just mean moving from one side to the other – it means rearranging a fortress of pillows around me at each wriggle.  When the 7:00 am request for cartoons came blaring out of DJ’s mouth, I felt myself slither under the silent question, “REALLY?”  Really? Already? Cartoons again?  Caillou?  Caillou whose parents make me feel inferior in every episode due to the extreme patience they exhibit?

I wanted to wake up to silence.  I wanted to pour a cup of decaf, turn on something like the Today show, and totally veg out in my PJ’s until the smell of my own coffee breath finally forced me into the shower.  I wanted to be on my own agenda.  However, anyone with a toddler knows – it’s their agenda….all the time.  So, Caillou it was.  Did I mention that I loathe Caillou’s parents?

By 8:00 am, I got a burst of motivation and decided to do some cooking. I made a batch of mini-quiches, and hadn’t realized it in the moment – but that was my attempt to get some time alone, in a creative capacity, lost in my own thoughts over a cheese grater.  It lasted only briefly, until DJ insisted on dragging a chair to the kitchen sink (naked with just her rain boots on….which, I admit, provided some much-needed comic relief) to wash her plastic animal toys.  Oh, right, there is a two-year-old reigning queen in this house.

After cooking, I decided to spend some time on the computer.  I wanted to post a few recipes to my blog, order the wall decal for our nursery, update my Paypal account so there’d be nothing standing between me and my Etsy purchases, and maybe – just maybe, if there were time….check Facebook.

Just as I settled into my chair, and DJ was seemingly distracted by who knows what, she decided that I had to find her “little mouse.” After digging through her bottomless toy bins, followed by a search through both the cats’ and the dogs’ toy collections – I realized she was referring to a tchotchke my husband picked up a Design show.  Quite literally, a tiny computer mouse.  Once I found it and handed it over, DJ crawled up into my chair, plugged in the mouse and directed me as to what she wanted next…”Videos of baby me.”  And there we sat, watching baby videos for what seemed like an hour.  I somehow managed to order the decal, and update my Paypal account – but that was in between “Can I have some chocolate milk?” “Can I have some toast?” “Can you make it louder?” “Can we see that one again?” Up and down, up and down, filling orders and pressing my groin to it’s limit.

The remainder of the day has followed suit.  I took a shower while sweet little blue eyes peered at me from behind the curtain – sporadically being hit in the shins with launched toys.  I spent my lunchtime at DJ’s preschool (where I’d normally commiserate with other moms in a separate room) sitting beside her on a teeny tiny plastic, orange chair (which did wonders for my expanding butt complex).  I spent DJ’s otherwise independent outdoor playtime pushing her around a cement track in a plastic car.  And, I have spent the greater part of her nap lying beside her as she clutches my hair because, today, she just won’t allow space between us.  Of course, on a day, when I need nothing more than an independent, deep breath.

I am grumpy because I have one child literally growing inside of me, and I have another child clinging to my every appendage. Aside from this heavy thing sitting on top of my neck, called a head, I am pretty certain every ounce of me has been overtaken by kid’s needs.  Wait, I take that back – last night DJ got a comb stuck in my hair, ripping strands from my scalp.  Lord, even my head has been sacrificed in the name of Motherhood!!!  My poor husband…..after a long day at work, all he wants is a kiss hello when he walks through the front door – and all I want is to peel one person off of me, hand her over, and reclaim (if even for a moment) my own body (in between baby kicks inside my belly, of course).

I have not been carving out enough time for myself – and it’s become very apparent today that I need to.  I need to let go of the guilt that says my job is to be a stay-at-home mom, which means making every moment of every day about my kids.   I need to release the guilt that says another baby is on the way, and I must devote every second to loving DJ up before that adjustment occurs.  However, when you leave no time for refueling, there’s no means of giving left – there’s just no way to give your kids 100% when you’re running on fumes.  I am learning this, painfully.

Needing time away from my daughter certainly doesn’t mean that I love her any less. It just means that I’m important, too.  It means that I’m not just a shell of a person, but an individual – a woman. Not just a mom.  Not just a wife.  A woman.  I think it’s important for DJ to see me take time for myself, too.  She needs to understand that separation is only temporary – and that reunions are really, really sweet and special.

So, with that said – tomorrow morning I am dropping DJ off at her Noni and Papa’s house, and I am going to (in this particular order) get my eyebrows waxed, soak in a candle-lit and lavender bath at the spa for 25 minutes, enjoy a prenatal massage and then treat myself to some indulgent lunch which will likely include a shrimp cocktail.  Or an apple crisp with vanilla ice cream.  Or a giant burger topped with mushrooms and crispy onion strings.

And then, I will pick DJ up from her grandparents house, and will likely squeeze her too tight from having missed her all morning – and Mrs. Grumpy Pants will be held at bay for another several weeks while I coast on with renewed energy and an awakened sense of self.

Is it tomorrow yet?

Well friends, yet another chapter closes in this adventurous book called “Life.”  Last week I transitioned out of the part time position managing a Silicon Valley entrepreneur’s calendar, which I’ve had since April.  It was a bittersweet time – though admittedly, aired on the sweeter side.

The job was a great fit for me.  It’s an exciting start-up company, whose vision I truly believe in.  I was surrounded by really talented, and down-to-earth people.  Most importantly though, it served a great purpose in my life as it helped coach me through the identity crisis that I was having about becoming a stay-at-home mom.  It gave me an outlet – a place to be someone other than a mother, a place to think about things other than snacks, discipline, and potty training.  It gave me a place to be an adult.

However, it also helped me realize that my heart was at home.  As much as I thought I needed a place that was just mine, after several months of trying to fit working hours into my already full day, I realized that my special place was, in fact, found in motherhood.  I have often told people that when I decided to work part time, I hadn’t simultaneously decided to cut back on my hours of being a mom.  So, there was a constant conflict of interest – and conflict of the heart.  I never actually wanted to take time away from DJ, and slowly, I realized that my time with her was indeed slipping away.  It was time to make a change.  It was time to get back to the job I was really called to do.

On Thursday, after the final day of training my replacement, DJ and I went out for ice cream.  It was such a sweet time of celebration.  While she didn’t know what we were celebrating, I am certain that she felt my presence.  I was there, really there with her for the first time in several months.  I didn’t feel the need to pull out my iPhone and check my email as we were sitting there.  I wasn’t preoccupied with thoughts about which meetings I still needed to confirm.  I wasn’t in a hurry to get home to craft an email to someone before the end of the day.  I was just there.  Savoring every sticky bite, and hanging onto DJ’s every word.  Man, she’s a cool kid.

It was really important to me that I planned for alone time with DJ before our second baby girl comes along.  I always knew that I wanted at least one month of not working before my due date.  But, as the end of 2011 approached, I realized that one month just wasn’t long enough for me.  That’s when I pushed for a January transition.  And now, I am so, so grateful that I worked in a supportive enough environment that this request was honored.

As my due date gets closer…..less than 3 months away, I am sitting in the midst of the most precious season.  I am totally and completely committed to giving DJ 100% of my attention, while also earnestly awaiting the arrival of her sister.  I am teetering between a love that I know intimately well, and a love that I can only imagine.  I am realizing that this is an extraordinary and significant time of my life.  In another 3 months, I will be a mom of two.  I will be sharing my time, my heart, my patience, my strength, my dedication.  I will be raising two lovely girls – and I will, inevitably, wonder where I’ve gone at some point.  Sooner or later, I will dream about a part time job.  I will dream about a place that belongs to just me.

And then, I will remember this week.

I will remember the freedom that I have felt in leaving a job that I appreciated.  I will remember the look in DJ’s eyes as we sat and ate ice cream cones until her very last bite.  I will remember the weight lifted off my shoulders as I closed my laptop and didn’t feel the need to reopen it after dinnertime.  I will remember what it felt like this morning, to sit and watch the full 75 minutes of Milo and Otis with DJ without once checking email.

As I get more and more excited to meet this baby girl, I am also feeling more and more protective of my time with DJ.  I am realizing that the sacrifices of parenting never cease….that even when you’re blessed to be a stay-at-home mom, you still struggle to create more time with your children.  You still fight the distractions of every day life, the temptations that you’re somehow missing out on something, or that you could be happier if you were just doing more for yourself.

Last night, as I tucked DJ in and lied down next to her (yes, I still lay beside her every single night until she falls asleep despite all of the experts who tell me not to), she said “I want to go in your arms, mommy.”   So, I took her tightly in my arms, and she said “Keep me safe, mommy.”  I whispered back, “Always.”  In that moment, I knew that keeping her safe simply meant being present with her.  Whether holding her in my arms, or playing along with whatever her imagination conjures up, or listening – really, really listening when she talks….it is my job, and more importantly, my privilege to be present with her.

I am fortunate to get to be with her day in and day out.  I know that not everyone has this opportunity, and I certainly don’t take it for granted.  I am not claiming to be a better mom because I have more time with her.  What does make me a better mom (for DJ, not in comparison to others), however, is the ability and courage to end one chapter because I can see that the beginning of the next is so much more beautiful.

My husband just got back into town from being away on business for a week. He was in India – so when I say he was away, he was really away. He was 12 ½ hours ahead of us, starting his new day when DJ and I were frantically trying to finish ours. And let me tell you….I have a whole new respect for single parents.

When you are the sole provider, entertainer, chef, chauffeur, story-teller, diaper changer, tantrum extinguisher, etc – life gets exhausting. I was exhausted. Wait, I mean, I am exhausted…still. It was one of those rare weeks where I thought that having a full time job outside of the home sounded utterly glamorous. As a stay-at-home mom, I am already up to my eyeballs in all-things-kid, so not having another adult to interact with on a daily basis pretty much left me puking Elmo….figuratively, of course.

Last night, after my husband had been home for just over 24 hours, DJ decided to have an epic breakdown. I am certain she was beyond tired, ridiculously hot, emotionally drained and certainly picking up on her parent’s weariness. It was, of course, at the same time my husband left the house to run some errands. Lucky me, after seven days of solo fits, my kid waited again till I was alone to unleash her fury. I tried almost everything in my arsenal to get her to stop, short of putting on clown shoes – but only because I don’t actually own clown shoes – good thing, right? At my wits end, I marched to the freezer, pulled out a grape popsicle, hoisted her up onto our bed, and let her slurp away. Yes, I said “grape popsicle” and “bed” in the same sentence. Did I also mention the solid white duvet?

In those drippy, sticky, messy moments, I realized that sometimes we take the easy way out in parenting. Sometimes the battles we choose not to fight are the holes in our consistency that our children pine for. They are the moments when they realize that Mommy might have weakness, the moments when they get one up on us and forever recall that the rules can be bent. They are the times when our children see us as human, they see us let down, give in, and devour some ill-achieved peace.and.quiet. For crying out loud….some peace and quiet.

Or, maybe they are the moments that draw our children in even closer to us. They are the memories that our children will share with their first teacher about a special time they recall spending with us. “One day when I was in a bad mood, my mommy let me eat a popsicle in her bed.”

I can’t believe I am even going to admit this – but I am reminded of something (the only intelligent thing) that Vicky of the Real Housewives of Orange County said in a finale show not too long ago…..something about how when people break down and cry, and when they become vulnerable and ditch their tough exterior that real relationships can begin and grow. I truly believe that to be true for the friendships in my life, so why wouldn’t the same be true with our children?

We don’t always have to be the “Rule Enforcenator. “ (Yes, poor taste to inert an Arnoldism here). Sometimes, we can be the burnt-out woman (or man) who will do anything to make it just a few more hours till bedtime. And, that’s OK. We forgive ourselves, we move on, and we know without a doubt that we’re doing an amazing job raising these animals….um, I mean, lovely children.

I have been a stay at home mom now for almost nine years.  Most days I am completely at peace with the way things are in my life.  I freely chose to stop working and stay at home with my kids.  I feel incredibly lucky to be able to do so and even on my worst days, I don’t take it for granted.

But with accepting my life the way things are, that means accepting that the bulk of the domestic related tasks rests upon my often over-tired shoulders.  I do the laundry, sign the kids up for summer camp, pick up the errant shoes that get left all over the front hall.  I plan and shop for the majority of our meals, I know when we are out of goldfish crackers, shampoo or Dijon mustard.  These aren’t necessarily bad or unfair responsibilities, but things that occasionally make me feel bitter and overworked.

My husband really likes his job.  While his job allows me to stay home and put us in a nice neighborhood in a home custom made for us that we all love, his job requires long hours and lots of travel.  He is up and gone before any of us wakes up and sometimes makes it home for dinner, and sometimes not.  After the kids are in bed, he is either on a conference call or sitting on the couch with his laptop finishing up work.  That is just the way it is, someone has to keep the world safe for capitalism.  I often feel like he is an occasional visitor in our weekday lives and jumps back in as Dad on the weekends.  But it is this way because we chose this life.  He chooses to stay at a job he succeeds at in an industry he truly has a passion for.  I choose to stay home and manage our home and look after our children.    But those choices do not come without sacrifices.  School plays, family dinner, kisses before school for him.  Drinking my coffee while it’s still hot, dressing in something other than yoga pants and having some help a bedtime for me.

My husband has been unusually busy at work lately and has had to work late.  He also had some business associates in town this week and wanted to have dinner with them.  On each of these days, he didn’t need to worry about childcare for his three kids.  Of course, I’ll be home to take care of them, that’s what I do.  I stay home and make sure our kids are fed, do their homework and get to bed on time.  But when I have something in the evening I would like to attend like my book club or a soccer club meeting, I have to make sure my husband will be home or arrange for my mom to be here to watch the kids.  I also have to trust that my husband will actually make it home at the time I ask him to, which didn’t happen last night.  I don’t get to just make plans and go and be free.

I don’t mean to make it sound like my husband in a modern day neanderthal that comes home, pounds his chest and demands dinner.  It isn’t that way at all.  If I weren’t generally happy with the way things are, he’d be fine with me pursuing my career, though I doubt the household responsibilities and childcare arrangements would change if I were working outside the home.

This is just one of those days when I have a hard time feeling content with my chosen lot in life, despite it being exactly what I always wanted.

Recently, I was in conversation with someone about the various stressors in life.  To my surprise, they had a very snarky reaction when I said that I often feel stressed – implying that my life as a stay-at-home-mom doesn’t merit feelings of pressure, anxiety or worry.  My reaction was a visceral one.  I felt the anger boil from deep within, and I literally began shaking with the utter sadness I felt from being misunderstood, undervalued, and slightly disrespected.

I have thought long and hard about how to clearly convey my thoughts about the unglamorous side of life as a stay-at-home mom.  My mind keeps circling back to a column that a friend posted on her Facebook page over a year ago.  So, with a little help from Google search, I was able to relocate the original source of the column.  I will apologize now, for today’s post is mostly unoriginal – but shares a message that couldn’t be more personal to me.

I also think it’s important for me to say that the hardships of being a stay-at-home-mom are no greater than those of a working mom, or dad, or guardian.  My goal in re-posting this writing by Carolyn Hax is not to claim my role is mightier than anyone else’s.  In fact, I am still baffled by the balancing act that working mothers must maintain…..how on earth do you work 10 hours a day, completely love your kids up, and find time to do the laundry and grocery shopping?  Amazing.  My purpose in posting the below is to potentially shift the perspective of anyone else out there who might underestimate the hard work that goes into “playing all day.”

At the end of the day, we all have stress.  We just need to remember that no one else’s stress is either greater, or less than, our own – because it’s what we are personally experiencing and living…..it’s all that we know in the moment.  Let’s be mindful of what the other is experiencing, and try to broaden our thinking so that we may practice compassion and understanding.

TELL ME ABOUT IT

By Carolyn Hax

The Washington Post

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Carolyn:

Best friend has child. Her: exhausted, busy, no time for self, no time for me, etc.

Me (no kids): Wow. Sorry. What’d you do today?

Her: Park, play group . . .

Okay. I’ve done Internet searches, I’ve talked to parents. I don’t get it. What do stay-at-home moms do all day? Please no lists of library, grocery store, dry cleaners . . . I do all those things, too, and I don’t do them EVERY DAY. I guess what I’m asking is: What is a typical day and why don’t moms have time for a call or e-mail? I work and am away from home nine hours a day (plus a few late work events) and I manage to get it all done. I’m feeling like the kid is an excuse to relax and enjoy — not a bad thing at all — but if so, why won’t my friend tell me the truth? Is this a peeing contest (“My life is so much harder than yours”)?

What’s the deal? I’ve got friends with and without kids and all us child-free folks get the same story and have the same questions.

Tacoma, Wash.

REPLY:

Relax and enjoy. You’re funny.

Or you’re lying about having friends with kids.

Or you’re taking them at their word that they actually have kids, because you haven’t personally been in the same room with them.

Internet searches?

I keep wavering between giving you a straight answer and giving my forehead some keyboard. To claim you want to understand, while in the same breath implying that the only logical conclusions are that your mom-friends are either lying or competing with you, is disingenuous indeed.

So, since it’s validation you seem to want, the real answer is what you get. In list form.

When you have young kids, your typical day is: constant attention, from getting them out of bed, fed, clean, dressed; to keeping them out of harm’s way; to answering their coos, cries, questions; to having two arms and carrying one kid, one set of car keys, and supplies for even the quickest trips, including the latest-to-be-declared-essential piece of molded plastic gear; to keeping them from unshelving books at the library; to enforcing rest times; to staying one step ahead of them lest they get too hungry, tired or bored, any one of which produces the kind of checkout-line screaming that gets the checkout line shaking its head.

It’s needing 45 minutes to do what takes others 15.

It’s constant vigilance, constant touch, constant use of your voice, constant relegation of your needs to the second tier.

It’s constant scrutiny and second-guessing from family and friends, well-meaning and otherwise. It’s resisting constant temptation to seek short-term relief at everyone’s long-term expense.

It’s doing all this while concurrently teaching virtually everything — language, manners, safety, resourcefulness, discipline, curiosity, creativity. Empathy. Everything.

It’s also a choice, yes. And a joy. But if you spent all day, every day, with this brand of joy, and then, when you got your first 10 minutes to yourself, wanted to be alone with your thoughts instead of calling a good friend, a good friend wouldn’t judge you, complain about you to mutual friends, or marvel how much more productively she uses her time. Either make a sincere effort to understand or keep your snit to yourself.

“I cry because being a mother is such a privilege.  I cry because I forget that it is a privilege.  I cry because I love my children so.  I cry because I want to love them more.  I cry because I sense in my soul that this love transcends all my understanding.  I cry because I am humbled to be the vessel entrusted with their care.” – Angela Thomas

When I read this quote last week, it really spoke to me.  It perfectly describes how I feel about motherhood (and sort of illustrates how my perpetually imbalanced hormones make me break down and cry all too often).  Mothering is an emotional job that creates an inexplicable bond with a tiny person, and awakens a love so deep within our hearts that we are frequently moved to tears.  Mothering is filled with ups and downs, triumphs and insecurities, joy and confusion, celebrations and fears – but mostly, it’s filled with transformational goodness.

I have been really in love with motherhood lately.  I feel like I have crossed over into the Land of the Content.  I have finally made peace with my job as a stay at home mom, and I have become really proud of the special role that I’ve grown into.  I have learned to appreciate the value of what I’m doing on a daily basis, and I have accepted that no matter what others believe – raising a child is truly the hardest job on earth.  I have stopped worrying about my previous life as an administrative assistant at an incredible company, and how important that I thought I was there. I have even stopped lamenting over the loss of my very own paycheck (though I was tempted to go there today as I was admiring my friend’s new boots).  The point is, I think that my identity crisis is over, and I am pretty cool with the woman who I’ve become over these past 17 months.  Amazingly enough, this peace about my current career choice, along with my acceptance of self, has given me the ability to be a better mom.

On Friday, my husband pitched a spontaneous plan.  He suggested that we take a day trip to Tahoe on Saturday, and introduce DJ to the snow.  I jumped on board with his idea, although, what he didn’t know (until reading this) is that I wasn’t feelin’ it AT ALL.  First of all, I am not a snow person.  Secondly, I don’t really dig road trips.  And finally, I now know that nothing’s truly spontaneous in the life of a mom – so there was a lot to plan within the next 24 hours.  There were snow boots to buy, laundry to do, snacks to pack, and toys to bring.  Ugh – there went my Friday.  Anyhow, I said “Yes.”  Yes to six hours of driving for one hour of play.

My job, as DJ’s mom, is to help create (and preserve) a childhood full of discovery, wonder, and adventure.  My job, I am realizing, is to say “Yes” more often.  I need to say yes to the things outside of my comfort zone if they are ultimately good for DJ (this can mean playing in the snow, or it can mean bearing yet another afternoon at the park with that super annoying nanny who’s always there chasing her poor kid around forcing grapes into his mouth – but I digress).  It’s about saying yes to the things that require more of my own time, for the benefit of creating quality time (memories) with my family.  Heck, sometimes it’s even about saying yes to ice cream for dinner, yes to eating Goldfish crackers in the bath tub, or even yes to finger painting without a smock (now we’re gettin crazy!). It’s just about saying yes more often.  It’s about being a grounded, disciplined, consistent mom who’s also confident enough to do radically spontaneous and fun things now and again.

Just say yes.  Say yes, and feel the tears well up in your eyes as you watch your children squeal with delight.  Whatever excites them, whatever charges them, whatever interests them, whatever makes them laugh, whatever makes them feel important and loved, whatever deepens your connection to them – just say yes.  Excusing yourself from the rules and routines once in a while is so liberating – and that freedom will make you a better mom.  I promise.

I cry because being a mom is so ridiculously cool.  I cry because most people look at me these days and think that I am not cool.  I cry because I yearn for just one more hour to myself.  I cry because I can’t bear to be away from DJ for too long.  I cry because my back hurts after six long hours in the car.  I cry because the pictures of my daughter touching snow for the first time are priceless.

LG has been in school for 4 days now.  She cried on the first day which was really weird for me because she never cried once at preschool drop off.  I was actually shocked.  I realize now that we had made SUCH A BIG DEAL about kindergarten that she was overwhelmed.  She stopped within 2 minutes, she was fine and LOVED every minuteof the first day.

Yesterday was the first full day of school.  Her kindergarten runs from 8:00 a.m.-3:00 p.m.  She cried again when I dropped her off yesterday.  I actually left her at school crying.  Her teacher assured me she would probably stop when I was out of site.  I actually wasn’t worried.  I didn’t even feel bad for leaving her crying.  I knew she would be fine and we had made such a big deal about the LONG day that she was overwhelmed.  I learned a few things the past few days about my child!

LG is off having a great time every day and I am BORED OUTTA MY MIND!!!!  I have been a stay at home mom now for 5 years.  I have filled my days with playdates, freelance work and LG.  NOw that there are no more playdates, etc. I have nothing to do.  I can only do laundry and clean so much, right.

Truth be told, I am looking for a job.  I have been looking for the past 8 months.  I probably haven’t been looking as hard as I could because I knew that I had some time before LG started school and my goal has always been to get her to the start of kindergarten.  Now that she is settled it is time for me to work.  I am really excited about this!  I am really not cut out to be at home all the time.  If I had more children then maybe I would be content to be home but I don’t think so.  Even if I have another child, I know for me that I will need to work.

For now while LG is at school, I have started running again.  I am going through things and getting rid of stuff we have been holding onto for years that we don’t need.  I am “cleaning house.”  It is about to me “me” time and I am so ready for it.  Bring on the jobs!!!!

It’s been a rough weekend at our household.  My husband and I have been at each other’s throats, and I was committed to the notion that everything was his fault.  My index finger was getting sore for pointing out the blame, and I was getting exhausted from arguing in circles (and right about now, my husband is regretting that he ever encouraged me to publically blog!)

And then, it hit me like a ton of bricks – I was the problem.  My attitude was the trouble.  I had grown increasingly bitter and resentful, and rather than recognizing and addressing it, I just kept feeding it.  I began to develop a very ugly self-righteous attitude.  I had become a martyr.  Everything was “Poor me,” and “You have no idea what I do all day.”  My husband was growing tired of the relentless comparisons, and felt as though he was entering a war zone each night as he opened our front door – not knowing how I would attack him because of my harboring anger.

I had lost my joy.  I had lost sight of the incredible privilege it was to be a stay-at-home-mom.  My perspective had changed….my eyes had left my daughter, and had fixed upon all that I had “sacrificially” given up.  I had stopped feeling like it was an honor to care for my family, and had started feeling like it was a chore.  I had started to secretly demand recognition, and had crafted laundry lists of my daily achievements should anyone believe that I was just playing at the park all day.

Then I remembered.  My good friend had sent me a link to sketch on YouTube about what it’s like to feel invisible in the role of home-maker.  She had sent it to me weeks ago, but I hadn’t made time to watch it.  I finally watched it, and with tears streaming down my face, there was a significant adjustment made to my attitude.

In this sketch, this mom talks about feeling invisible.  She talks about no one listening to her, no one taking her seriously – her kids ignoring her, her husband tuning her out, and feeling inferior around her career-oriented friends.  She was speaking my language, and I couldn’t help but nod in agreement.  She then talks about a gift she had received.  It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe, and it was inscribed, “With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.”  That’s when the cleansing tears poured out, and I finally got it.

I am not performing this “job” for acknowledgment, I am taking on this great responsibility so that my daughter will grow into a strong, beautiful, uniquely crafted woman who is spirited and able.  Like the architects and builders of the cathedrals, as a mom, I am just called to build – without the promise of making history books, or even receiving a “World’s Greatest Mom” badge.

Ahhhh – the weight has been lifted, and my joy has returned.  I doubt this will be the last time that I begin feeling invisible in the lives of those who I care for most, but I would also bet that this is the last time I will allow myself to truly believe that my deeds are completely unnoticed.  I am building a great cathedral, and there is no higher honor.

The other day my Facebook status read, “…..is juggling A LOT, and loving the circus act.”

Those who know me well know that there is never a dull moment in my life, and that I am perpetually guilty of biting off almost more than I can chew.   The rush of adrenaline that I get from bouncing from one initiative to the next has always been what gets my blood pumping.  However, after I hit “Share” on my profile page, I felt pretty deceptive. The truth was, I was panicking.

After I had DJ, I quickly decided that just being a mom was plenty of pandemonium for me.  I didn’t feel like I needed to take on anything else – and that just keeping DJ safe, fed and clean everyday was a big enough commitment.  There were days when boiling water for macaroni seemed overwhelming, and to use one of the corporate terms from my past…..sometimes I just didn’t have the bandwidth to even brush my teeth.

Well, here I am ten months later, and I am periodically forgetting to breathe.  I am still a stay-at-home mom, but have taken on some additional projects.  I am working with two other fitness professionals to plan a huge fundraising event in less than four weeks, while also doing some contract work for my past employer (this, in addition to the fitness classes that I teach on Saturdays, and the clients I see throughout the week).  I went from all DJ all the time, to all DJ all the time except for her naps when I work like crazy to get it all done.  Overwhelmed? You bet.

I find myself waffling between my ego and my white flag – wanting credit for all that I’m doing, yet desperately wanting to surrender.  I had started getting comfortable with parenting, and secretly yearned for some external intellectual stimulation.  When the opportunities arose for me to once again wear my professional hat, I leapt at the chance.   While I have no regrets about all that I have taken on, I do worry at the expense of which I’ve accepted.

Time to myself is an absolute impossibility.  With all that I have on my plate, I cannot afford to “waste” a moment of my free time on things like bathing, eating, or even staying hydrated.  The minute DJ falls asleep – I am glued to my office desk.  I am exhausted, and my neck is killing me from being crouched over a computer.  My goodness, am I failing miserably, or exceeding expectations?

Any outsider would say that I am exceeding expectations.  They would look at my laundry list of daily accomplishments, and they’d feed my vicious ego with some sort of affirmation.  I would likely reply with something disingenuous like, “Oh, I’m having a blast!”  However, if I were strapped to a metal chair in a cold room with a spotlight glaring into my eyes….I’d have to admit that I just might be failing miserably.

This afternoon, I sat in the hallway with my laptop open, working on a document for my past employer.  I laid out a ton of toys around me, and encouraged DJ to entertain herself.  Like a cat, sensing where my attention was directed, she pulled herself up and onto my computer relentlessly.  I got frustrated, and then realized that I was on her clock.  My first commitment is to my family.  That is the job that matters most, and the career change that I have gladly devoted myself to for almost a year now.  In that moment, I shelved my laptop – but not before sending off an email negotiating an extended deadline for my project.

I suppose that from the perspective of recognizing my priorities, though a bit late in the game, I just might be succeeding.  Despite the crazy (self-imposed) pressure, I do in fact, want to do it all.  I actually don’t commit to anything that’s not important to me – however, the very most important thing to me is my baby girl, and our time together is absolutely non-negotiable.  She gets the first 100% of me.