It's not actually midnight, but at almost 9:30 pm, it could be. My day got started at 5:55 am. And, it's a Monday. Enough said.
Sometimes I wonder how much of my girls' childhood will be remembered. By them, of course, but also by me. When I think back to my own days of growing up, I have both specific memories and generalized feelings. It occurred to me recently that these days, these fantastic, challenging, fun, scary days are memories. We're making memories here, people. Is anyone paying attention?
Today was the kind of day filled with more highs than lows. I love those kinds of days. Even more memorable, when the lows occurred, I took them into stride. Why? Because of the highs, I suppose. They sustained me through the lows.
I knew off the bat that today was going to be a long day. My husband was going into the city for a baseball game straight after work, so my expectation of flying solo was in place. The morning was productive- bedrooms neatened, laundry put away, dishwasher emptied, and the girls had some playtime before we began school. My little one decided to pack herself a lunch, and I found her in the kitchen, spreading peanut butter onto bread, tucking strawberries and carrots into a container, and grinning. She's learned well. By 8:15, we were at the table. School went quickly, everyone sitting quietly, plugging away. The doorbell rang, a neighbor dropped by to thank us for feeding her cats, and gave us a gift certificate for pizza. Seizing the opportunity, I promised the girls pizza since Daddy was out for the eve. I paid a few bills, the girls did their math, went on to vocabulary, grammar, and ELA. We took a snack break, zipped through some writing, read a zoology chapter, and we were mostly done. More playtime for the girls, neatening up for me, and a quick lunch. Eyeing the beautiful weather out the window, we decided to go for walk to the tennis courts and play for a while. All went well, other than the fact that my little one learned how hit balls over the fence (five balls were hit out of court, two lost in the woods, the rest we recovered), it got hot and my older one decided to lay down on the courts in the shade, and the door to the court swung open and my dog tried to make a break for it, straight to the street (fortunately, I thought fast and used my racket to swat him away from the door while little one ran and quickly shut the gate). I think the girls squabbled a little on the way home, but it was too sunny for me to notice. Returning home, we found a bag of fresh produce from an old friend, which was an unexpected treat that made me smile. I ushered the girls onto the couch, and they read quietly while I made salad for later, placed the pizza order, and got us back out the door. After errands (library, Walmart) we were off to dance class. While my little one danced, I showed my big girl some books I got out of the library, books I dubbed our "health class" (aka, healthy eating, positive body image, and puberty), books which promptly sent her into a tizzy. She informed me that she would not read them, had no interest in the topics, was upset at me for getting them, and spent the next 45 minutes first angry at me, and then weepy. We spoke a little more, I listened to her concerns and promised we would work together to chose material she didn't find upsetting, and she was over it. Little one got out of dance and was ecstatic for pizza. By the time we got to the car, she was horrified that we were picking it up, not eating in, and Jekyll and Hyded straight into a horrid mood. Now that my older one was back to happy, little one was free to become a grump. After getting the pizza, we buzzed by CVS to pick up some scripts. Of course the drive-through line was four cars long, so we decided to run in (It'll be quicker!). But since they'd sent my prescription through my insurance incorrectly, quick turned into 25 minutes of waiting. Little one was melting fast- but we escaped just in time. Pepping us up before we fainted of hunger, I suggested we eat our pizza and salad in front of a movie. Bingo! We agreed on Frozen (believe it or not, it was my suggestion) and before you could say "Put your dirty clothes in the hamper before you sit on my bed" we were upstairs, plates in lap, singing along with Elsa and Anna. Of course I was conned into "five more minutes" at least three times, but by the time 8 pm came along, I swear, the girls were tucked into bed, teeth brushed, pizza sauce wiped clean from their faces, smiles and snuggles all around. They cuddled into bed together, surrounded by Lego figurines from Frozen, and within minutes, their whispers and giggles turned to silence. Only 14 hours since the start of our day.
My next realization was how much cleaner the house is when my husband is gone (sorry, babe). Part of it is definitely that without an another adult in the house, the division of labor is clear. There's no thought of, "I'll leave that for him to do" because there's only me. There's also full responsibility in knowing that whether it is clean or dirty, it is my doing. Neat freak that I am, I choose clean every time. Kitchen was swept clean, dining room table left bare, living room reassembled (not counting the dolls organized precisely on the bookshelves aka "apartments"), litter boxes scooped, all well again. Dog walked, groceries put away, laundry folded. Whew. As always, one day feels stretched into many. I was patting myself on the back for a day well done, until it occurred to me that it was easy to hold it all together today because it was Monday, and I was running off the glow of an awesome weekend, filled with friends, hikes, and fun. How am I going to do it all again tomorrow?!
Monday, September 8, 2014
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Moments
Every night when she's supposed to be falling asleep, my little one spends about 20 minutes sitting in her bed, potchkeying with her dolls. She arranges so many of them around her that we often joke she'll have no room to sleep. She'll put all of her babies in a row, tuck them under blankets, gather accessories like a comb, magic wand, and a hand-held mirror, and snuggle in the middle of them. As I sit in her room waiting for her to fall asleep, my mind is like a grounded plane, waiting to take off. I'm running through my to-do list for the evening- get the laundry into the dryer, load the dishwasher, clean up dinner, neaten up, make lunches, whatever. I've given all I can all day long, and I'm ready to switch gears. My instinct is to tell my daughter, "Lie down. Stop it. Shush. Rest." Often I do. But what I've learned, when I stopped to actually pay attention, when I quieted my brain and allowed myself to observe and experience, is how important this ritual is to my daughter. Just as I need to end my evening knowing I've done all that is essential to me, she feels the same. The satisfaction and peace she finds in settling her beloved friends in for the evening is not unlike my need to go to bed with a clean kitchen sink and a swept dining room floor. No matter how many times I urge her to be still, she's going to engage in her routine whether I like it or not. I can miss the significance of it and try to rush her to sleep, or I can embrace this sweet, short-lived moment. It's only a matter of time before these dolls will be collecting dust, no longer needed or treasured. So for now, I'll allow myself to slow down, focus on this moment rather than rushing to the next one, and enjoy the show.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Summer: My top ten
This weekend, I was really loving summer-- the warm, gentle breeze; the delicate sunshine; the lazy breakfast on the deck-- and thinking about my summer favorites. There are probably more than ten, but I started to compile a mental list. They're not in any particular order- sorry, Mr. Letterman.
#1 Having my daughter and husband home for the entire summer. No school. Mine, all mine.
#2 I already gave this one away- but the summer breeze, the look and feel of sunshine, and the vibrance of the day always energizes me. I soak up as much as possible, and hope it gets me through the following winter.
#3 The great outdoors. Long walks, hikes, bike rides, swimming, picnics, evening strolls, an invigorating run. I'll take it any way I can get it.
#4 The drive-in. This is a summer *must* for my family. Every year, we wait anxiously for an appropriate double feature-- a good movie for the kids, followed by a decent movie for my husband and I. We do it just as my grandparents did it with their kids-- we get there early, the kids eat a picnic dinner, we play ball in the open space in front of the screen, change them into PJs, brush teeth, watch the first movie, tuck them into bed in the backseat, and watch the second feature. Ah, summer.
#5 Our annual picnic at the dock. Every summer we pack a picnic dinner and eat at our favorite dock in the Hudson Valley. It's always fun to watch the boats sail by, wade in the water with the kids, and take photos of them set against the gorgeous river.
#6 I said it once, but, HIKING! This is our day-trip of choice throughout the summer. We try for a few times a week, driving within an hour or so of home. Last year, Bash Bish and Mohonk were our two favorites.
#7 Lazy mornings outside. One of the hardest things about the school year is the rush-rush-rush feeling on weekday mornings. On summer mornings, whenever possible we make it a point to sit out on the deck, linger over breakfast, and enjoy the sun, the air, and the quiet. It's so peaceful, and shapes the remainder of the day.
#8 Conversely, ending the day outside is another cherished pasttime. As often as we can, we get back outside after dinner for a game of ball in the yard, a ramble around the neighborhood, or even playing a game on the deck. It's so peaceful to be outside, bumping into other families out doing the same, stopping to chat with the neighbors, and enjoy the communal feeling of summertime family life.
#9 The sounds of summer. There's something so reassuring about hearing the birds chirping softly, kids shrieking with joy in the distance, a dog barking from down the street, and feel the slow pace of the afternoon. It almost makes me wish I drank lemonade.
#10 Wind chimes. It's a sound of summer, but I love them so much, they get their own spot. Hearing the wind blow the chimes is enhanting, and sometimes I'll even tap the chimes during the winter and close my eyes, just to pretend it's summer.
Okay, fine, I went past ten...
#11 The BBQs. While I am not actually a fan of BBQ food itself, I do love the outdoor family barbecue. Often with extended family, and often an opportunity to sit, eat, talk, sit, eat, and talk. Watching the multiple generations interact is priceless.
#12 The Beach. We don't get there every summer, but when we do, it's revitalizing, and lasts me for months afterwards. Something about the sound and feel of the waves rolling in and out... I could walk on along the water all day. If I ever relocate, it will be somewhere with a beach. Preferably, Hilton Head, SC. I don't care how big or small my house is, as long as I face the ocean, can see it when I wake up, can see it when I fall asleep, and can walk on it whenever I want. A cardboard box will do.
#13 The memories. Sure, other times of year are filled with holidays, but there is something even more memorable about the freedom that comes along with no school, no snow, and an open road of possibilities. If I could stretch those two months into a whole year, I'd do it in a heartbeat.
#1 Having my daughter and husband home for the entire summer. No school. Mine, all mine.
#2 I already gave this one away- but the summer breeze, the look and feel of sunshine, and the vibrance of the day always energizes me. I soak up as much as possible, and hope it gets me through the following winter.
#3 The great outdoors. Long walks, hikes, bike rides, swimming, picnics, evening strolls, an invigorating run. I'll take it any way I can get it.
#4 The drive-in. This is a summer *must* for my family. Every year, we wait anxiously for an appropriate double feature-- a good movie for the kids, followed by a decent movie for my husband and I. We do it just as my grandparents did it with their kids-- we get there early, the kids eat a picnic dinner, we play ball in the open space in front of the screen, change them into PJs, brush teeth, watch the first movie, tuck them into bed in the backseat, and watch the second feature. Ah, summer.
#5 Our annual picnic at the dock. Every summer we pack a picnic dinner and eat at our favorite dock in the Hudson Valley. It's always fun to watch the boats sail by, wade in the water with the kids, and take photos of them set against the gorgeous river.
#6 I said it once, but, HIKING! This is our day-trip of choice throughout the summer. We try for a few times a week, driving within an hour or so of home. Last year, Bash Bish and Mohonk were our two favorites.
#7 Lazy mornings outside. One of the hardest things about the school year is the rush-rush-rush feeling on weekday mornings. On summer mornings, whenever possible we make it a point to sit out on the deck, linger over breakfast, and enjoy the sun, the air, and the quiet. It's so peaceful, and shapes the remainder of the day.
#8 Conversely, ending the day outside is another cherished pasttime. As often as we can, we get back outside after dinner for a game of ball in the yard, a ramble around the neighborhood, or even playing a game on the deck. It's so peaceful to be outside, bumping into other families out doing the same, stopping to chat with the neighbors, and enjoy the communal feeling of summertime family life.
#9 The sounds of summer. There's something so reassuring about hearing the birds chirping softly, kids shrieking with joy in the distance, a dog barking from down the street, and feel the slow pace of the afternoon. It almost makes me wish I drank lemonade.
#10 Wind chimes. It's a sound of summer, but I love them so much, they get their own spot. Hearing the wind blow the chimes is enhanting, and sometimes I'll even tap the chimes during the winter and close my eyes, just to pretend it's summer.
Okay, fine, I went past ten...
#11 The BBQs. While I am not actually a fan of BBQ food itself, I do love the outdoor family barbecue. Often with extended family, and often an opportunity to sit, eat, talk, sit, eat, and talk. Watching the multiple generations interact is priceless.
#12 The Beach. We don't get there every summer, but when we do, it's revitalizing, and lasts me for months afterwards. Something about the sound and feel of the waves rolling in and out... I could walk on along the water all day. If I ever relocate, it will be somewhere with a beach. Preferably, Hilton Head, SC. I don't care how big or small my house is, as long as I face the ocean, can see it when I wake up, can see it when I fall asleep, and can walk on it whenever I want. A cardboard box will do.
#13 The memories. Sure, other times of year are filled with holidays, but there is something even more memorable about the freedom that comes along with no school, no snow, and an open road of possibilities. If I could stretch those two months into a whole year, I'd do it in a heartbeat.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Revelations
I'm alone in the house for the first time in quite a while. I feel like kind of a fraud. What am I doing alone? (My husband brought the girls out for to breakfast at the diner, for some daddy-daughter time) Why am I not cleaning? (Which is the first, and usually only thing that I do when no one needs my attention). What am I going to do with myself? I keep thinking about when I read, "Eat, Pray, Love," and was stunned at the concept of "dolce far niente," aka the art of doing nothing, and enjoying it. I'm Italian, after all, shouldn't I be able to grasp the act of mindfully relaxing?
Of course, I'm going to do a little cleaning first. I just have to. It's half compulsion (if I don't do it, it's going to bug me) and half pragmatics (if I do it now, it won't be waiting for me later, and I can enjoy the girls when they get home). I promise myself I'll clean for less than 30 minutes, and I turn on the ipod first so that I can rationalize that I'm listening to my own music and therefore having downtime. And besides, I actually like to clean, so it's not like I'm resenting it.
Next, I have to figure out what to do with myself. It's not that I don't have anything to do; it's what to do first. Catch up on putting pictures in albums, or sorting through folders of photos on my computer? Not in the mood. Clean out my side of the closet? Ha. This is supposed to be relaxing, after all. What are my hobbies? Okay, let's see. Photography, reading, crocheting (not that I've crocheted in, oh, five years?), biking, hiking, running, cooking, writing. Oh, got it. My recipe binder. I have a binder, I've been adding to it for years, and it's full of every recipe I've ever pulled out of a magazine, copied down from a friend, etc. I'm constantly sticking pages into the front pocket, making mental notes to add it to next week's menu, but once enough pages are sitting there, it's chaos. With my binder, comes its companion-- a yellow speckled composition notebook, in which I keep lists of meals I've made, what we've liked, and what I plan to make next. I wrestle in my mind for a moment. Does meal-planning and looking at recipes count as relaxing? This is still family care, so maybe I should do something else, like take a bath with scads of candles around.
Then I tell myself to hush up... and decide it's much better to do what I actually like to do, than what some calagon commercial tells me I'm supposed to do. I whip out my binder, three-hole puncher, and sheet protectors (I'm such a food nerd) and settle on the couch with a cup of tea (now that feels required) and some Ben Folds Five playing on the ipod. And I sift. And marvel. And dream. Dream of my one-day cafe, and which recipes I'll serve there. Dream of having the time to actually try all these recipes. Dream of the lazy summer gatherings we'll have, at which I'll get to make each-and-every-thing that looks mouth-watering and tantalizing.
It's quiet in my brain, as I've finally stopped convincing myself that this is a valid activity, and am actually enjoying it instead. And then the revelations begin. I think about how wonderful alone time is, and how I (and so many mothers) never feel entitled to it. I think about the basics that I require in order to feel sane and capable, and decide that they're precious little (healthy kids, a happy spouse, a swept floor, an empty sink, and a clutter-free dining room table) compared to what we think we need (insert mental image of latest Pottery Barn catalog here). I think about being carefree and laid-back, which are my two goals; too-often prevented by my two realities, rushed and sometimes overwhelmed/grumpy.
I decide that I'll encourage more of this alone time (after all, my husband is always wanting to take the girls out) and see where it brings me. More refreshed, perhaps. More energetic, hopefully. More spontaneous, well, let's not get carried away. And even if I only agree to this because I think it'll make me a better mother and wife, maybe a little something will benefit me, just me, in the process. I'll tuck that into my subconscious, but just don't let my conscious know.
Of course, I'm going to do a little cleaning first. I just have to. It's half compulsion (if I don't do it, it's going to bug me) and half pragmatics (if I do it now, it won't be waiting for me later, and I can enjoy the girls when they get home). I promise myself I'll clean for less than 30 minutes, and I turn on the ipod first so that I can rationalize that I'm listening to my own music and therefore having downtime. And besides, I actually like to clean, so it's not like I'm resenting it.
Next, I have to figure out what to do with myself. It's not that I don't have anything to do; it's what to do first. Catch up on putting pictures in albums, or sorting through folders of photos on my computer? Not in the mood. Clean out my side of the closet? Ha. This is supposed to be relaxing, after all. What are my hobbies? Okay, let's see. Photography, reading, crocheting (not that I've crocheted in, oh, five years?), biking, hiking, running, cooking, writing. Oh, got it. My recipe binder. I have a binder, I've been adding to it for years, and it's full of every recipe I've ever pulled out of a magazine, copied down from a friend, etc. I'm constantly sticking pages into the front pocket, making mental notes to add it to next week's menu, but once enough pages are sitting there, it's chaos. With my binder, comes its companion-- a yellow speckled composition notebook, in which I keep lists of meals I've made, what we've liked, and what I plan to make next. I wrestle in my mind for a moment. Does meal-planning and looking at recipes count as relaxing? This is still family care, so maybe I should do something else, like take a bath with scads of candles around.
Then I tell myself to hush up... and decide it's much better to do what I actually like to do, than what some calagon commercial tells me I'm supposed to do. I whip out my binder, three-hole puncher, and sheet protectors (I'm such a food nerd) and settle on the couch with a cup of tea (now that feels required) and some Ben Folds Five playing on the ipod. And I sift. And marvel. And dream. Dream of my one-day cafe, and which recipes I'll serve there. Dream of having the time to actually try all these recipes. Dream of the lazy summer gatherings we'll have, at which I'll get to make each-and-every-thing that looks mouth-watering and tantalizing.
It's quiet in my brain, as I've finally stopped convincing myself that this is a valid activity, and am actually enjoying it instead. And then the revelations begin. I think about how wonderful alone time is, and how I (and so many mothers) never feel entitled to it. I think about the basics that I require in order to feel sane and capable, and decide that they're precious little (healthy kids, a happy spouse, a swept floor, an empty sink, and a clutter-free dining room table) compared to what we think we need (insert mental image of latest Pottery Barn catalog here). I think about being carefree and laid-back, which are my two goals; too-often prevented by my two realities, rushed and sometimes overwhelmed/grumpy.
I decide that I'll encourage more of this alone time (after all, my husband is always wanting to take the girls out) and see where it brings me. More refreshed, perhaps. More energetic, hopefully. More spontaneous, well, let's not get carried away. And even if I only agree to this because I think it'll make me a better mother and wife, maybe a little something will benefit me, just me, in the process. I'll tuck that into my subconscious, but just don't let my conscious know.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
first official day of the school year
5 am: wake to toddler who insists on cluster nursing through the night. must night-wean asap.
6 am: wake to first-grader who squeals, "I'm going to first grade today!!!"
6:45 am: feed girls breakfast- wheat chex, organic milk, grapes, chunks of cheddar cheese. hopefully the breakfast of champions.
7 am: watch girls shout "goodbye, daddy!" and cover him with kisses as he leaves for work.
7:04 am: corral girls into tub, scrub them until shiny.
8 am: dress girls, give Madeline, "teeny, tiny, thin braids" on either sides of her temple. assure her for the 100th time that yes, I will be at the bus stop this afternoon to get her; in fact, I will even be there early. PROMISE. double check that lunch, snack, and water bottle are in her backpack.
8:20 am: usher girls outside and snap 30 pictures of them in virtually the same pose, just to make sure the perfect shot is achieved.
8:55 am: put lovely firstborn daughter on bus, but not before hugging her tight, and assuring her that the day will go well. sigh.
8:56 am: walk to playground with lovely second born daughter, and give her some one-on-one time.
9:20 am: off to grocery shop. with just one child, it feels empty. turn the shopping into a lesson... "How many cantaloupes are we buying? What color is the pepper?" notice grandpa-like man smiling at said questions, and pat self on back for sneaking in a little learning.
10 am: arrive at playdate. spend next two hours giggling while watching two curly-haired girls negotiate being two, as they share popcorn and raw broccoli. enjoy company of down-to-earth friend and her new baby boy.
noon: little one's naptime. relish in the cuddling of little one as she drifts off to sleep.
12:30-2:20 pm: prep dinner, unpack groceries, and straight up house. didn't I just clean it last night?
2:30 pm: a late lunch for little one, followed by puzzles and playing with wooden letters. loving her little voice and tiny fingers as she fits together puzzle pieces and shouts proudly, "I did it!!"
3:20 pm: husband appears, home from work. play an educational game online with little one, and off to get big sister off the bus.
4 pm: (well, 4:29, as the bus is 29 minutes late, but who's counting?) big sister arrives, all hugs, smiles, and, "I can't wait to go back tomorrow! I made so many new friends and I love my teacher!" WHEW. play outside w/neighborhood kids; usher own kids inside for dinner.
5 pm: dinner.
5:48 pm: scrub off the floor: an entire plate of sticky watermelon juice, a large cup of water, and whatever other pieces of dinner that were not eaten by my eats-like-a-bird little daughter.
6 pm: upstairs for bedtime routine. pajamas, teeth, and books, in that order. meanwhile, husband's cast of four adults begin to arrive, and they head outside to rehearse a fairly-loud play in the backyard. neighbors must wonder about us.
7 pm: strong arm girls into bed. of course, not before they gleefully shout, "goodnight Daddy! we love you!!" out their bedroom window, supplying chuckles to Daddy and his cast. as usual, girls then stall bedtime, asking to go, "bedtime pee-pee," begging for another sip of water, and urgently revealing "secrets" which they forgot to share during the day. as always, I indulge them, secretly knowing that the reason I put them into bed at 7 is b/c I know they won't be done with this dance until 7:30.
7:40 pm: it it silent upstairs. re-neaten the house (didn't I just do this a few hours ago?). wash lunchboxes and water bottles, repack fresh lunches for tomorrow, and feeling generous, even pack one for hubby. marvel at my creativity to include every food group (and wonder how long I can keep up enthusiasm for the task). wash pots and pans, reload dishwasher, and put everything into place. consult compiled list of meals, and decide on dinner for tomorrow.
9 pm: steal a few minutes online before heading back upstairs to fill out gigantic pile of "homework" that teacher sent home for parents to complete. emergency contact info and family history. fun fun. and so the day comes to a close. I think I'm gonna need a cape. as will every other mother of a school-aged child this year. happy school year to all.
6 am: wake to first-grader who squeals, "I'm going to first grade today!!!"
6:45 am: feed girls breakfast- wheat chex, organic milk, grapes, chunks of cheddar cheese. hopefully the breakfast of champions.
7 am: watch girls shout "goodbye, daddy!" and cover him with kisses as he leaves for work.
7:04 am: corral girls into tub, scrub them until shiny.
8 am: dress girls, give Madeline, "teeny, tiny, thin braids" on either sides of her temple. assure her for the 100th time that yes, I will be at the bus stop this afternoon to get her; in fact, I will even be there early. PROMISE. double check that lunch, snack, and water bottle are in her backpack.
8:20 am: usher girls outside and snap 30 pictures of them in virtually the same pose, just to make sure the perfect shot is achieved.
8:55 am: put lovely firstborn daughter on bus, but not before hugging her tight, and assuring her that the day will go well. sigh.
8:56 am: walk to playground with lovely second born daughter, and give her some one-on-one time.
9:20 am: off to grocery shop. with just one child, it feels empty. turn the shopping into a lesson... "How many cantaloupes are we buying? What color is the pepper?" notice grandpa-like man smiling at said questions, and pat self on back for sneaking in a little learning.
10 am: arrive at playdate. spend next two hours giggling while watching two curly-haired girls negotiate being two, as they share popcorn and raw broccoli. enjoy company of down-to-earth friend and her new baby boy.
noon: little one's naptime. relish in the cuddling of little one as she drifts off to sleep.
12:30-2:20 pm: prep dinner, unpack groceries, and straight up house. didn't I just clean it last night?
2:30 pm: a late lunch for little one, followed by puzzles and playing with wooden letters. loving her little voice and tiny fingers as she fits together puzzle pieces and shouts proudly, "I did it!!"
3:20 pm: husband appears, home from work. play an educational game online with little one, and off to get big sister off the bus.
4 pm: (well, 4:29, as the bus is 29 minutes late, but who's counting?) big sister arrives, all hugs, smiles, and, "I can't wait to go back tomorrow! I made so many new friends and I love my teacher!" WHEW. play outside w/neighborhood kids; usher own kids inside for dinner.
5 pm: dinner.
5:48 pm: scrub off the floor: an entire plate of sticky watermelon juice, a large cup of water, and whatever other pieces of dinner that were not eaten by my eats-like-a-bird little daughter.
6 pm: upstairs for bedtime routine. pajamas, teeth, and books, in that order. meanwhile, husband's cast of four adults begin to arrive, and they head outside to rehearse a fairly-loud play in the backyard. neighbors must wonder about us.
7 pm: strong arm girls into bed. of course, not before they gleefully shout, "goodnight Daddy! we love you!!" out their bedroom window, supplying chuckles to Daddy and his cast. as usual, girls then stall bedtime, asking to go, "bedtime pee-pee," begging for another sip of water, and urgently revealing "secrets" which they forgot to share during the day. as always, I indulge them, secretly knowing that the reason I put them into bed at 7 is b/c I know they won't be done with this dance until 7:30.
7:40 pm: it it silent upstairs. re-neaten the house (didn't I just do this a few hours ago?). wash lunchboxes and water bottles, repack fresh lunches for tomorrow, and feeling generous, even pack one for hubby. marvel at my creativity to include every food group (and wonder how long I can keep up enthusiasm for the task). wash pots and pans, reload dishwasher, and put everything into place. consult compiled list of meals, and decide on dinner for tomorrow.
9 pm: steal a few minutes online before heading back upstairs to fill out gigantic pile of "homework" that teacher sent home for parents to complete. emergency contact info and family history. fun fun. and so the day comes to a close. I think I'm gonna need a cape. as will every other mother of a school-aged child this year. happy school year to all.
Friday, August 6, 2010
"When you're a girl, your dreams come true..."
This has definitely been the summer of leaps and bounds. At the end of the kindergarten school year, Madeline was reading (tentatively), swimming (while tightly holding onto a pool noodle), and riding her bike (with training wheels). Just a few months later, she is reading (confidently), swimming (back and forth and back and forth, in the eight feet deep water, while singing at the top of her lungs), and riding her bike (sans training wheels, and quite proudly). Tonight she is having a friend sleep over for the first time, and it feels like tomorrow she'll be packing for college. It amazes me to see her grow so quickly, and in so many areas. This afternoon gave me such a chuckle. She is an amazing free spirit. Normally we swim in the four foot water, and she practices swimming but is always aware of whether or not she can touch the bottom. This afternoon, as she watched me cross into the deep end, she blurted out, "I want to come with you!" We brought a noodle along "just in case," but it was quickly forgotten. The cutest part-- as she flitted around in the water, daringly dashing from here to there, she began to sing. Loudly. Unabashedly. "When you're a girl, your dreams come true. Your dreams come true. Your dreams come true. When you're a girl, your dreams come true..." I had to laugh as she swam around, unaware of who was listening, who she was swimming by, or who was smiling as she swam, floated, and sang; blissfully happy and without a care in the world. I love it.
My little Margo has also changed so much. She is quite the chatterbox, the boss, and the cuddler. In her best moments, she is goofy, grinning, and loving. In her darker moments, she is Ms. Terrible-Two. Ms. Tantrum. Ms. My-Way-or-the-Highway. Madeline wasn't quite this routine in her wishes, or dramatic in her reactions, so it has taken some getting used to. I know we have another strong personality in the making (shocking, I know). She is also the little monkey-see, monkey-do. Her older sister is her mentor, and at times it seems like everything Margo does is something she saw Madeline do. It's pretty funny, like today at the orchard when they were each singing "Donuts, donuts, last time we ate donuts" even though I'm pretty sure Margo doesn't remember that day. Regardless, it's adorable, and I enjoy watching her personality continue to develop. This fall will be a new challenge for us, as Madeline has full day school, and I look forward to settling into a new routine and seeing who she'll be next.
The summer has flown by, and I've practically forced it to slow down at this point. We've been filling our days with day trips, yet also trying to set aside time to stop and smell the roses. I feel like it's finally summer; ironically, as it is the first week of August. We've been to the Zoo, the Mansion, the Pool, the Orchard, the Picnic; and soon, the Drive-In, and Backyard Camping Night in our friends' yard. The memories have been made and I can't wait for whatever remains in store. And for now, I'm off to sit on the deck on a cool night, and enjoy the sounds of silence (and chirping crickets). Happy summer!
My little Margo has also changed so much. She is quite the chatterbox, the boss, and the cuddler. In her best moments, she is goofy, grinning, and loving. In her darker moments, she is Ms. Terrible-Two. Ms. Tantrum. Ms. My-Way-or-the-Highway. Madeline wasn't quite this routine in her wishes, or dramatic in her reactions, so it has taken some getting used to. I know we have another strong personality in the making (shocking, I know). She is also the little monkey-see, monkey-do. Her older sister is her mentor, and at times it seems like everything Margo does is something she saw Madeline do. It's pretty funny, like today at the orchard when they were each singing "Donuts, donuts, last time we ate donuts" even though I'm pretty sure Margo doesn't remember that day. Regardless, it's adorable, and I enjoy watching her personality continue to develop. This fall will be a new challenge for us, as Madeline has full day school, and I look forward to settling into a new routine and seeing who she'll be next.
The summer has flown by, and I've practically forced it to slow down at this point. We've been filling our days with day trips, yet also trying to set aside time to stop and smell the roses. I feel like it's finally summer; ironically, as it is the first week of August. We've been to the Zoo, the Mansion, the Pool, the Orchard, the Picnic; and soon, the Drive-In, and Backyard Camping Night in our friends' yard. The memories have been made and I can't wait for whatever remains in store. And for now, I'm off to sit on the deck on a cool night, and enjoy the sounds of silence (and chirping crickets). Happy summer!
Monday, June 7, 2010
Tattoos by noon
If you heard of someone who ran away in the morning, got two tattoos by noon, bragged about her underwear-less status shortly thereafter, and finished by taking notice of a scantily clad man in the store... would you feel exhausted? If so, welcome to my Monday. While Margo didn't actually attempt to run away, she did let herself out of the house without permission, in hopes of "peeing in the yard." While her tattoos were of butterflies, and I did help apply them, they are still proudly displayed on her biceps. While she has been going commando ever since the warm weather hit, she decided to announce it to the cashier this afternoon as we checked out at Home Depot. And while the man shopping in the aisle nearby wasn't truly "nakey" (he was wearing cutoff jeans and a white tank top), she did remark about his exposed skin so loudly that he turned around to grin and laugh. Whew. That girl does keep me on my toes.
My big girl, on the other hand, has re-entered a testing phase. She's been trying out words that she knows aren't permitted (fortunately for the time being, her choice words are "stupid" and "Jesus Christ," so I know it could be worse) and suggesting we "die," before taking it back and apologizing. I'm not sure where this phase came from, but I'm hoping it doesn't stick around long. She's just about done with kindergarten, and I can't believe how far she has come- as I watch her write stories, draw complex pictures, and read books, I'm in awe of how many skills she has furthered in such a short period of time. I do cringe at the time when her homework will be beyond my own knowledge, but for now I'll pretend that those days are far away. She changes so fast that I often don't recognize her, but quality time with her (we recently had our first mother-daughter mani-pedi, as well as a trip to see a Broadway play on tour) recharges our bond.
Summer is approaching, and I couldn't be more excited. One of the main perks of having a husband who puts in long hours teaching all year is the summers off. Woo hoo!! For the time being we're planning a number of day trips (stay-vacations, if you will) as well as a trip westward to PA to score some time with some furry creatures (aka Elmo and crew) and to see a land of wonder (aka Dutch Wonderland). The "honey-do" list has grown a lot lately, as we tackle one room at a time. Silly as it may be, my goal is for each room in the house to look as well put-together as a Pottery Barn catalog. This weekend we tackled the playroom-- sorting, purging, organizing, and making it a more pleasant place to be. I've been on an organization kick ever since Spring, and hope this summer will bring even cleaner closets and neater drawers. Oh, such exciting dreams.
More to the point, I'm hoping this summer brings some sweet memories... the kind that you don't know you're making until after they're done. Our annual evening at the drive-in movie is a must, as well as some lazy afternoons sitting alongside the beach, looking out at the sky. The girls love to swim and I'm sure we'll be in the pool plenty, but I'm also hoping for quiet moments cuddling on blankets under a shady tree, hiking through the cool woods, picnicking around town, and hopefully even a family bike ride. Throw in some BBQ gatherings with friends and family, and I'm even more excited for the months ahead. Long, warm days with blue skies are always my favorite kinds of days, and thoughts of such days got me through the dreary months of winter. Ah, summer. I hope to see you there!
My big girl, on the other hand, has re-entered a testing phase. She's been trying out words that she knows aren't permitted (fortunately for the time being, her choice words are "stupid" and "Jesus Christ," so I know it could be worse) and suggesting we "die," before taking it back and apologizing. I'm not sure where this phase came from, but I'm hoping it doesn't stick around long. She's just about done with kindergarten, and I can't believe how far she has come- as I watch her write stories, draw complex pictures, and read books, I'm in awe of how many skills she has furthered in such a short period of time. I do cringe at the time when her homework will be beyond my own knowledge, but for now I'll pretend that those days are far away. She changes so fast that I often don't recognize her, but quality time with her (we recently had our first mother-daughter mani-pedi, as well as a trip to see a Broadway play on tour) recharges our bond.
Summer is approaching, and I couldn't be more excited. One of the main perks of having a husband who puts in long hours teaching all year is the summers off. Woo hoo!! For the time being we're planning a number of day trips (stay-vacations, if you will) as well as a trip westward to PA to score some time with some furry creatures (aka Elmo and crew) and to see a land of wonder (aka Dutch Wonderland). The "honey-do" list has grown a lot lately, as we tackle one room at a time. Silly as it may be, my goal is for each room in the house to look as well put-together as a Pottery Barn catalog. This weekend we tackled the playroom-- sorting, purging, organizing, and making it a more pleasant place to be. I've been on an organization kick ever since Spring, and hope this summer will bring even cleaner closets and neater drawers. Oh, such exciting dreams.
More to the point, I'm hoping this summer brings some sweet memories... the kind that you don't know you're making until after they're done. Our annual evening at the drive-in movie is a must, as well as some lazy afternoons sitting alongside the beach, looking out at the sky. The girls love to swim and I'm sure we'll be in the pool plenty, but I'm also hoping for quiet moments cuddling on blankets under a shady tree, hiking through the cool woods, picnicking around town, and hopefully even a family bike ride. Throw in some BBQ gatherings with friends and family, and I'm even more excited for the months ahead. Long, warm days with blue skies are always my favorite kinds of days, and thoughts of such days got me through the dreary months of winter. Ah, summer. I hope to see you there!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Please don't put lipgloss on the cat
Dear Margo,
For your second birthday... you ate cereal for breakfast, then played with your sister. I snuck in some pictures before either of you could protest (how could I resist the matching dresses you had on??) You had playtime with mommy while Madeline was in school. You emptied an entire barrel of cat kibble on the floor, and delighted in fitting as much of it as possible into your mouth before I could stop you. A little while later, I caught you applying lipgloss to our cat, Samantha. You took a nap after we picked your sister up from school (who was so excited, she told her teachers and all of her friends about your special day). Spent the afternoon playing while Madeline and I decorated your Elmo cake. You graciously chatted on the phone with each person who called to wish you a happy birthday, saying "Have a good day. Here's mommy!" about 20 times to each person. We had breakfast for dinner, then birthday cake. Your eyes lit up when you saw your cake with glowing candles coming your way. After we let you "cut" your cake (hacking at Elmo's nose and eyes with a butter knife, if truth be told) you ate a few bites before tiring of the sugar. Madeline graciously shared the spotlight with you, showering you with kisses and wishing you happy birthday all afternoon. We went to Daddy's work to watch a theatre performance, and you "stole" (crashed?) the show by wandering onstage during one of the numbers. You danced to the music, and carried props you found in a box (stuffed animals and a baby) around the theatre, laying them down on chairs for "sleepy" after you nursed them. You snuck in the bathroom and put a cabbage patch doll on the potty to "go poopy." You hugged Daddy's colleague and his students, telling everyone, "I'm two" and holding up your two fingers. You sang and chatted all the way home, where you snuggled in your pajamas and went to sleep.
I love you, my little noodle.
For your second birthday... you ate cereal for breakfast, then played with your sister. I snuck in some pictures before either of you could protest (how could I resist the matching dresses you had on??) You had playtime with mommy while Madeline was in school. You emptied an entire barrel of cat kibble on the floor, and delighted in fitting as much of it as possible into your mouth before I could stop you. A little while later, I caught you applying lipgloss to our cat, Samantha. You took a nap after we picked your sister up from school (who was so excited, she told her teachers and all of her friends about your special day). Spent the afternoon playing while Madeline and I decorated your Elmo cake. You graciously chatted on the phone with each person who called to wish you a happy birthday, saying "Have a good day. Here's mommy!" about 20 times to each person. We had breakfast for dinner, then birthday cake. Your eyes lit up when you saw your cake with glowing candles coming your way. After we let you "cut" your cake (hacking at Elmo's nose and eyes with a butter knife, if truth be told) you ate a few bites before tiring of the sugar. Madeline graciously shared the spotlight with you, showering you with kisses and wishing you happy birthday all afternoon. We went to Daddy's work to watch a theatre performance, and you "stole" (crashed?) the show by wandering onstage during one of the numbers. You danced to the music, and carried props you found in a box (stuffed animals and a baby) around the theatre, laying them down on chairs for "sleepy" after you nursed them. You snuck in the bathroom and put a cabbage patch doll on the potty to "go poopy." You hugged Daddy's colleague and his students, telling everyone, "I'm two" and holding up your two fingers. You sang and chatted all the way home, where you snuggled in your pajamas and went to sleep.
I love you, my little noodle.
Five and Two... Eyes of Blue
Yes, I know that's not exactly how the song goes... but it does describe our situation here. Unbelievably, I'm about to be the mother of a five year old and a two year old. It hit me today that in just a week, Margo will be two. Still, as I look at her wild, crazy curls and her crinkly blue eyes, she looks like a stranger to me. She has changed so much in these two years that every time I get used to who she is, she's someone else again. There are times of the day when I spend every second with the girls, and after hours of books, projects, and playing, we're united not just by glue and sparkles, or the fort of dolls around us, but by the most awesome bond I could ever imagine. Strangely, though, I slip away to empty the dishwasher or put in a load of laundry, and return to find two different children. Many times a day I stare at Madeline's shiny hair, her great big smile, and can't believe she's mine, and that she's the same child I once cradled in just one arm. She's a mix of humor and furor, laughing and crying, dependent on the moment. For the most part, she and her sister are the best of friends, and she loves to tell Margo, "You're my best friend, little girlie!" Madeline will build the tallest block tower, only to yell out, "Come knock it over, Marg!!!" Yet seconds later, will again build the tallest block tower, only to yell, "Why did you knock that over?!?" Ah, sisters. Quite similarly, one moment Margo is sharing every doll with her sister, and a moment later, crying, "Mine!" and grabbing things for dear life.
In other words, the normal progression of sisterhood. I love to watch it, in fact I get giddy when I see them playing school; Madeline dressing Margo in ridiculous get-ups and tucking a backpack onto her shoulders; Margo slipping into fancy shoes just to be like her sister. Those stolen moments, when I am watching with no one knowing, are the best. It's rare to get a photo of this; Madeline's beacon ears recognize the sound of the camera turning on, and she can disappear faster than you can say, "Snuffaluffagus;" so I've learned to just savor it, take a mental picture, and be sure to share it with my husband later.
Now that Margo is getting older, we're really starting to do "family" things more than ever. Which is, of course, the moment I've been waiting for. Playing with a toddler while an infant snoozed was no fun, but playing with both girls together is delightful. Both love to help me cook, which is great fun (and a messy disaster, but so worth it). Family movies on the couch (in the bed) are even better, because we can finally start sharing with them all the things we enjoyed growing up. We're starting to play games together, although Margo still prefers to collect the game pieces rather than put them in their rightful places on the board. Such is life. I really look forward to outdoor activities with them. We brought them both biking with us this summer, which was the most fun I've had, not counting the fact that Margo despised the pull-along seat and sobbed uncontrollably for just shy of two hours. But Madeline loved riding tandem with Terry, and since biking was our activity pre-kids, we hope to resume that again. Hiking has gone well, and soon Margo will be old enough to trot along rather than ride piggyback; and of course, beach combing was to-die-for. I'd move us to the beach in less than a heartbeat if I could... but that's another story for another day.
All fun aside, having a two-year-old is a dangerous endeavor. For me, another six months past Madeline's second birthday, the sleepy-I-can't-believe-we-did-this fog lifted, and I started to dream of something... someone... little. Up until Madeline was two, I was deadset against having a second. It was hard enough with one, I maintained, why push it. But as the months past, we moved her to own bed, and she became a little more independent. We started to discuss the benefits of her having a sibling, and whether or not we could endure "the beginning" again. Survey said yes, survey said no, and finally, we said, "What the heck," and took the plunge. Nine months later, as my ears closed in on me three nights after Margo's birth, I vowed not to do it again. Dividing myself in two is hard enough, and I'm wise enough to know I won't be able to divide into thirds. I haven't changed my mind, and I don't plan on changing it, but I do recognize the dangers of the present. With a school-aged child and a toddler running around, there's no one left who fits between my shoulder and my elbow. No teeny-tiny body in my arms, no one who fits (well, no one under 22 pounds) in a front carrier, and no one to rock through the dark hours of the night. And I'm good with that (after all, I don't think blogger.com would let me change the title of this blog to "And then there were five") but that doesn't mean I don't still wonder just who else would be out there. Would it be a boy this time? Or another little girl? I'll never know, and although I'd rather not, it still doesn't mean I don't miss those early days of holding the tiniest person on my shoulder and breathing in that sweet smell.
Fortunately, I have two cuddlers on my hands. And they still smell pretty darned good. :)
In other words, the normal progression of sisterhood. I love to watch it, in fact I get giddy when I see them playing school; Madeline dressing Margo in ridiculous get-ups and tucking a backpack onto her shoulders; Margo slipping into fancy shoes just to be like her sister. Those stolen moments, when I am watching with no one knowing, are the best. It's rare to get a photo of this; Madeline's beacon ears recognize the sound of the camera turning on, and she can disappear faster than you can say, "Snuffaluffagus;" so I've learned to just savor it, take a mental picture, and be sure to share it with my husband later.
Now that Margo is getting older, we're really starting to do "family" things more than ever. Which is, of course, the moment I've been waiting for. Playing with a toddler while an infant snoozed was no fun, but playing with both girls together is delightful. Both love to help me cook, which is great fun (and a messy disaster, but so worth it). Family movies on the couch (in the bed) are even better, because we can finally start sharing with them all the things we enjoyed growing up. We're starting to play games together, although Margo still prefers to collect the game pieces rather than put them in their rightful places on the board. Such is life. I really look forward to outdoor activities with them. We brought them both biking with us this summer, which was the most fun I've had, not counting the fact that Margo despised the pull-along seat and sobbed uncontrollably for just shy of two hours. But Madeline loved riding tandem with Terry, and since biking was our activity pre-kids, we hope to resume that again. Hiking has gone well, and soon Margo will be old enough to trot along rather than ride piggyback; and of course, beach combing was to-die-for. I'd move us to the beach in less than a heartbeat if I could... but that's another story for another day.
All fun aside, having a two-year-old is a dangerous endeavor. For me, another six months past Madeline's second birthday, the sleepy-I-can't-believe-we-did-this fog lifted, and I started to dream of something... someone... little. Up until Madeline was two, I was deadset against having a second. It was hard enough with one, I maintained, why push it. But as the months past, we moved her to own bed, and she became a little more independent. We started to discuss the benefits of her having a sibling, and whether or not we could endure "the beginning" again. Survey said yes, survey said no, and finally, we said, "What the heck," and took the plunge. Nine months later, as my ears closed in on me three nights after Margo's birth, I vowed not to do it again. Dividing myself in two is hard enough, and I'm wise enough to know I won't be able to divide into thirds. I haven't changed my mind, and I don't plan on changing it, but I do recognize the dangers of the present. With a school-aged child and a toddler running around, there's no one left who fits between my shoulder and my elbow. No teeny-tiny body in my arms, no one who fits (well, no one under 22 pounds) in a front carrier, and no one to rock through the dark hours of the night. And I'm good with that (after all, I don't think blogger.com would let me change the title of this blog to "And then there were five") but that doesn't mean I don't still wonder just who else would be out there. Would it be a boy this time? Or another little girl? I'll never know, and although I'd rather not, it still doesn't mean I don't miss those early days of holding the tiniest person on my shoulder and breathing in that sweet smell.
Fortunately, I have two cuddlers on my hands. And they still smell pretty darned good. :)
Sunday, January 17, 2010
The more things change...
Another whirlwind of time passing by... birthdays, holidays, school, day to day responsibilities, and all the ups and downs that are par for the course of life. I'd love to say we've fallen into a routine, but it forever feels like every day brings new challenges and surprises that make the routine feel both monotonous and non-existent at the same time. Talk about a paradox. On one hand, there is the never-ending repetition. Wake up, get everyone ready for the day, get Madeline on the bus, play with Margo, get Madeline off the bus, make lunch, do schoolwork, neaten, make dinner, get the girls to bed, neaten, go to sleep. Wake up, do it again. Groundhog Day has never felt so real.
On the other hand... there are always unexpected glitches, both good and bad, that make life feel so unpredictable and hard to keep up with. All it takes is one or two extra errands or obligations and suddenly we are off schedule, falling behind in whatever needed to be done, and forever playing a game of catch up. Five minutes after the laundry is done, the house is spotless, meals are prepared, and life is in perfect order, a tornado comes through and we're back to square one.
And such is life. I hardly doubt this to be unusual or unique in any way. Through comparing notes with others, it's clear that many a mother finds herself in a never-ending cycle of twists and turns otherwise known as daily life. The only ironic thing, truly, is how this differs from what I expected. Three years ago I was working full-time. I had just graduated with my doctorate in psychology, and was staring my upcoming career in the face. At the very same moment, I was staring my energetic 22 month old in the face. Since the first moment I held her in my arms, it was clear that motherhood and career were going to fight for which came first; which was more important. I wanted to believe I could conquer them both, but in my heart of hearts, I knew I didn't want to. My career, which challenged and intrigued me only moments prior, immediately fell by the wayside once motherhood came onto the scene. Two years later, with my degree in my back pocket and some courage in my heart, I made the decision to take a sabbatical from work and raise my family. Oh, what romanticized visions of sugarplums did I have dancing in my head! I had it all figured out. With all of the time I'd have being an SAHM, I could do it all. Nutritious meals three times a day. A perfectly clean home, which I'd neaten every morning- of course, it would stay that way all day long- leaving me to spend the day playing educational, enjoyable games with my daughter until her father came home. And of course, I'd have my evenings free to spend time with said father of my child, and we'd sit on the couch, intimately chatting as we shared our productive days with one another. Who hasn't seen the Fisher Price commercials- the perfectly groomed mother, laughing and playing on the living room floor with her toddler- a bright, neatly decorated home in the background, a healthy snack waiting on the corner. Why, that would be me, of course! And why not?!? How much work could it be, really, to play with your child all day?
All I can say now is HA. Yes, I neaten every morning. Yes, I aim to play educational yet interesting games with my daughters throughout the day. Yes, I plan healthy meals and find the time to prepare them. But do my days have that bright, easy, relaxing flow I envisioned? Absolutely not. Time with my husband in the evenings? Sometimes laughable. Does my house stay clean and organized? Don't even go there.
In the end, I hope I have learned one lesson... and may that lesson be that it's impossible to truly plan for everything, or even envision what it will be like until I've gotten there. I truly want to believe that I can keep everything in control simply because I want to, but again and again, it is proven otherwise. Until I develop my bubble in which I will protect the universe, I am forced to accept that life is unpredictable and my best bet is to roll with it. Cliched, of course, but don't I always end in cliche? ;)
On the other hand... there are always unexpected glitches, both good and bad, that make life feel so unpredictable and hard to keep up with. All it takes is one or two extra errands or obligations and suddenly we are off schedule, falling behind in whatever needed to be done, and forever playing a game of catch up. Five minutes after the laundry is done, the house is spotless, meals are prepared, and life is in perfect order, a tornado comes through and we're back to square one.
And such is life. I hardly doubt this to be unusual or unique in any way. Through comparing notes with others, it's clear that many a mother finds herself in a never-ending cycle of twists and turns otherwise known as daily life. The only ironic thing, truly, is how this differs from what I expected. Three years ago I was working full-time. I had just graduated with my doctorate in psychology, and was staring my upcoming career in the face. At the very same moment, I was staring my energetic 22 month old in the face. Since the first moment I held her in my arms, it was clear that motherhood and career were going to fight for which came first; which was more important. I wanted to believe I could conquer them both, but in my heart of hearts, I knew I didn't want to. My career, which challenged and intrigued me only moments prior, immediately fell by the wayside once motherhood came onto the scene. Two years later, with my degree in my back pocket and some courage in my heart, I made the decision to take a sabbatical from work and raise my family. Oh, what romanticized visions of sugarplums did I have dancing in my head! I had it all figured out. With all of the time I'd have being an SAHM, I could do it all. Nutritious meals three times a day. A perfectly clean home, which I'd neaten every morning- of course, it would stay that way all day long- leaving me to spend the day playing educational, enjoyable games with my daughter until her father came home. And of course, I'd have my evenings free to spend time with said father of my child, and we'd sit on the couch, intimately chatting as we shared our productive days with one another. Who hasn't seen the Fisher Price commercials- the perfectly groomed mother, laughing and playing on the living room floor with her toddler- a bright, neatly decorated home in the background, a healthy snack waiting on the corner. Why, that would be me, of course! And why not?!? How much work could it be, really, to play with your child all day?
All I can say now is HA. Yes, I neaten every morning. Yes, I aim to play educational yet interesting games with my daughters throughout the day. Yes, I plan healthy meals and find the time to prepare them. But do my days have that bright, easy, relaxing flow I envisioned? Absolutely not. Time with my husband in the evenings? Sometimes laughable. Does my house stay clean and organized? Don't even go there.
In the end, I hope I have learned one lesson... and may that lesson be that it's impossible to truly plan for everything, or even envision what it will be like until I've gotten there. I truly want to believe that I can keep everything in control simply because I want to, but again and again, it is proven otherwise. Until I develop my bubble in which I will protect the universe, I am forced to accept that life is unpredictable and my best bet is to roll with it. Cliched, of course, but don't I always end in cliche? ;)
Friday, November 13, 2009
Bedtime musings
As I sat with my girls, watching them fall asleep tonight, I once again found myself in awe of children, and a parent's love for them. I'm sure many parents feel this way, but I keep thinking about how incredibly fortunate I am to have such amazing beings in my life. Something about their damp hair across their sleeping cheeks makes me want to watch them breathe, hold them tight, and savor every slumbering moment.
Daytime flights by in a blur. There are overwhelming moments during which I don't know which way to look first. Wanting a clean, organized, peaceful environment pulls me into one direction, while wanting quality time with the girls above all pulls me in another direction. Ironically, when I made the decision to put my career on hold and become a SAHM, I had very romanticized June Cleaver-esque notions. The house would be perfect; I'd make quick, nutritious meals throughout the day; the girls and I would hover over educational activities, learning and playing as picturesquely as a trio from a Fischer-Price commercial; Terry and I would have plenty of time to relax in the evenings, since I had gotten it all done during the day; and at the end of the night I'd fall asleep, refreshed and with a smile on my face. Fast forward to three years later (has it really been that long?). I'm the queen of multitasking, but have learned you can't multitask being in the moment. I'm known for spending lunchtime sitting at the table, doing schoolwork with Madeline while I prep dinner; folding laundry while we play blocks; pureeing veggies and breading chicken for a future meal while making a meal for the current day; and strategizing my errands so I can go out as infrequently as possible, getting it all done in one trip by hitting each stop along the way so that I make only right turns. Sound like supermom? I doubt it... I'm sure there are plenty of other moms doing the same. At the same time, I'm sure we do things a little differently here.
I chuckled recently when my husband told me that his colleagues and students sometimes peer into his lunch, and ask "Who packed you THAT???" All-natural PB and homemade jam on homemade whole wheat bread, next to a side of baby spinach leaves with homemade hummus, next to a trail-mix that looks like it's from outer space... sitting next a giant stainless steel bottle of water... while others are eating McDs and tossing out their Styrofoam cups. I don't really care how we compare to others, only that each thing we do feels right for us.
Madeline turns five this week, which I cannot believe. We talked recently about how her birth made me a mother, and before that I was "a wife," as she put it. Becoming "a wife" felt significant, but becoming a mother was all-encompassing and life-changing in so many more ways that I ever could have envisioned. For a while after she was born, I wondered when I would feel "my old self," again. Eventually it dawned on me that adjusting to parenthood isn't about incorporating your child into an "old self," but rather discovering a new self. Perhaps this isn't the case for others, but I found that whoever I was before was gone faster than I could blink. I can't put my finger on the exact changes, but I suspect is has something to do with a loss of ever being truly carefree again. Once that new person is born and you are forever concerned with her safety, well-being, and happiness, it's safe to say that one's own goals become incredibly secondary. At times I find that frustrating, especially when I see women who don't seem to be affected in that way. It's not judgment I feel for them, but just a wondering at how it is that they seemed to have taken their child into stride and not become altered in the way that others are.
For now, as I watch my older daughter's eyes gleam as she learns to tally numbers, sound out words, and draw pictures better than ever before; and I watch my younger daughter master a new skill day by day, I really don't care that life was changed as drastically as it was. One day, sometime in the future, I'll begin to piece together who I am now as opposed to who I was before... but at this moment, I'm too busy picking up bits of playdoh, chickpeas, and markers.
Daytime flights by in a blur. There are overwhelming moments during which I don't know which way to look first. Wanting a clean, organized, peaceful environment pulls me into one direction, while wanting quality time with the girls above all pulls me in another direction. Ironically, when I made the decision to put my career on hold and become a SAHM, I had very romanticized June Cleaver-esque notions. The house would be perfect; I'd make quick, nutritious meals throughout the day; the girls and I would hover over educational activities, learning and playing as picturesquely as a trio from a Fischer-Price commercial; Terry and I would have plenty of time to relax in the evenings, since I had gotten it all done during the day; and at the end of the night I'd fall asleep, refreshed and with a smile on my face. Fast forward to three years later (has it really been that long?). I'm the queen of multitasking, but have learned you can't multitask being in the moment. I'm known for spending lunchtime sitting at the table, doing schoolwork with Madeline while I prep dinner; folding laundry while we play blocks; pureeing veggies and breading chicken for a future meal while making a meal for the current day; and strategizing my errands so I can go out as infrequently as possible, getting it all done in one trip by hitting each stop along the way so that I make only right turns. Sound like supermom? I doubt it... I'm sure there are plenty of other moms doing the same. At the same time, I'm sure we do things a little differently here.
I chuckled recently when my husband told me that his colleagues and students sometimes peer into his lunch, and ask "Who packed you THAT???" All-natural PB and homemade jam on homemade whole wheat bread, next to a side of baby spinach leaves with homemade hummus, next to a trail-mix that looks like it's from outer space... sitting next a giant stainless steel bottle of water... while others are eating McDs and tossing out their Styrofoam cups. I don't really care how we compare to others, only that each thing we do feels right for us.
Madeline turns five this week, which I cannot believe. We talked recently about how her birth made me a mother, and before that I was "a wife," as she put it. Becoming "a wife" felt significant, but becoming a mother was all-encompassing and life-changing in so many more ways that I ever could have envisioned. For a while after she was born, I wondered when I would feel "my old self," again. Eventually it dawned on me that adjusting to parenthood isn't about incorporating your child into an "old self," but rather discovering a new self. Perhaps this isn't the case for others, but I found that whoever I was before was gone faster than I could blink. I can't put my finger on the exact changes, but I suspect is has something to do with a loss of ever being truly carefree again. Once that new person is born and you are forever concerned with her safety, well-being, and happiness, it's safe to say that one's own goals become incredibly secondary. At times I find that frustrating, especially when I see women who don't seem to be affected in that way. It's not judgment I feel for them, but just a wondering at how it is that they seemed to have taken their child into stride and not become altered in the way that others are.
For now, as I watch my older daughter's eyes gleam as she learns to tally numbers, sound out words, and draw pictures better than ever before; and I watch my younger daughter master a new skill day by day, I really don't care that life was changed as drastically as it was. One day, sometime in the future, I'll begin to piece together who I am now as opposed to who I was before... but at this moment, I'm too busy picking up bits of playdoh, chickpeas, and markers.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Mindfulness, every curb is a balance beam, and other such ramblings
Looking back at my summer blog, I have to laugh... I had no idea how busy fall was going to be! Summer was great... busier than expected, but lots of fun, travel, and great memories with friends and family. As the fall flies by and the holiday season approaches, I've been working extra hard on living mindfully, and really absorbing each and every moment.
Margo and I arrived at Madeline's school today to pick Maddie up, and into my head popped blogging. Margo climbed onto each curb, balancing herself expertly, insisting on walking the entire length as a gymnast, stopping occasionally to reach down and grab, "A rock, a rock!" I reminded myself to let her experience the moment, and not rush her through it. Her job, right now, is to be an explorer. It was the type of experience during which my husband would comment on my plethora of patience... similar to yesterday, when Madeline and I were working on her schoolwork, and she was repeatedly writing a letter incorrectly, just to make me laugh. "I don't know how you do it..." my husband is always saying. "Do what?" I respond. I'm just raising my family!
On one hand, life often resembles GroundHog Day. Wake up, eat, get everyone ready for the day, bring Madeline the bus, spend the morning with Margo, get Madeline off the bus, put Margo down for her nap, feed Madeline lunch, do schoolwork, bring the girls outside to play/run errands, make dinner, get the girls ready for bed, clean up, go to bed. Whew. Is that the American dream?? But when I look closely, I see so many precious moments. The girls are growing so fast, and their sister bond is awesome. Frequently, I happen upon them playing together, with Madeline teaching Margo something, while Margo imitates. The other day, I found them sitting at the playroom table, "having a meeting." Each time I see them go down the slide holding hands, hugging before bed, and sharing a snack, I feel my heart warm inside. Which is not to say we don't have the moments during which one girl pulls a toy from the other one's hand, and I hear a shrieking, "Mommy!!!!!"
Lots of things make me wistful these days. I feel like although we rush through our weeks, there are many moments I'd like to slow down, or preserve. For one thing, I'm stunned at the rate at which Madeline has matured since beginning school. Already she seems more wise, more worldly, as she navigates kindergarten, riding the bus, homework, and being out in the world sans parents. Hearing about her day is comical. She shares her memories in bits and pieces, telling me stories that explain only half of what I want to know, and stating, "I forget" for everything else.
Margo, meanwhile, had adjusted to mornings with Mommy. Frequently, she'll ask, "Madeline?" I'll remind her that Madeline is at school. "Daddy?" she'll ask. He's at work, I respond. She looks at me, thinking. "Oh," she answers, nodding seriously. She's a full-on toddler by now... running through the house, her little hands clutching a doll, book, wooden spoon, or whatever random item of her sister's isn't being used presently. She definitely hit a language explosion at some point... she loves to tell me to "Lay down, Mommy," "Here, Mommmy," or that she wants to play with, "Madeline's toothbrush." This morning she handed me a pair of shoes, and I said, "Those are Daddy's, actually." She spent the next few minutes practicing, "Daddy's, actually. Mommy's, actually. Madeline's, actually." She repeats everything. She's also obsessed with turning things on and off... every light switch, doll that talks, and toy with batteries in our house is getting a run for its money right now.
I find myself loving so many aspects of toddlerhood... her wispy curls, the tiny tush running free through the house, the silly games she plays, and her love of "the milkies." She's out of diapers during the day, needing them only at night, and I know she'll soon look more like a little girl than anything else. It's all going so fast. She's my last, and while I definitely don't want another, there is so much that I will miss about young children. Madeline is changing so quickly that I sometimes find myself studying her, figuring out who she is in this moment. I constantly revel in my girls, and feel so fortunate for my family. I feel corny, but I'm always telling Terry how lucky we are. Every day presents challenges, for sure, but there's nowhere else I'd be.
Margo and I arrived at Madeline's school today to pick Maddie up, and into my head popped blogging. Margo climbed onto each curb, balancing herself expertly, insisting on walking the entire length as a gymnast, stopping occasionally to reach down and grab, "A rock, a rock!" I reminded myself to let her experience the moment, and not rush her through it. Her job, right now, is to be an explorer. It was the type of experience during which my husband would comment on my plethora of patience... similar to yesterday, when Madeline and I were working on her schoolwork, and she was repeatedly writing a letter incorrectly, just to make me laugh. "I don't know how you do it..." my husband is always saying. "Do what?" I respond. I'm just raising my family!
On one hand, life often resembles GroundHog Day. Wake up, eat, get everyone ready for the day, bring Madeline the bus, spend the morning with Margo, get Madeline off the bus, put Margo down for her nap, feed Madeline lunch, do schoolwork, bring the girls outside to play/run errands, make dinner, get the girls ready for bed, clean up, go to bed. Whew. Is that the American dream?? But when I look closely, I see so many precious moments. The girls are growing so fast, and their sister bond is awesome. Frequently, I happen upon them playing together, with Madeline teaching Margo something, while Margo imitates. The other day, I found them sitting at the playroom table, "having a meeting." Each time I see them go down the slide holding hands, hugging before bed, and sharing a snack, I feel my heart warm inside. Which is not to say we don't have the moments during which one girl pulls a toy from the other one's hand, and I hear a shrieking, "Mommy!!!!!"
Lots of things make me wistful these days. I feel like although we rush through our weeks, there are many moments I'd like to slow down, or preserve. For one thing, I'm stunned at the rate at which Madeline has matured since beginning school. Already she seems more wise, more worldly, as she navigates kindergarten, riding the bus, homework, and being out in the world sans parents. Hearing about her day is comical. She shares her memories in bits and pieces, telling me stories that explain only half of what I want to know, and stating, "I forget" for everything else.
Margo, meanwhile, had adjusted to mornings with Mommy. Frequently, she'll ask, "Madeline?" I'll remind her that Madeline is at school. "Daddy?" she'll ask. He's at work, I respond. She looks at me, thinking. "Oh," she answers, nodding seriously. She's a full-on toddler by now... running through the house, her little hands clutching a doll, book, wooden spoon, or whatever random item of her sister's isn't being used presently. She definitely hit a language explosion at some point... she loves to tell me to "Lay down, Mommy," "Here, Mommmy," or that she wants to play with, "Madeline's toothbrush." This morning she handed me a pair of shoes, and I said, "Those are Daddy's, actually." She spent the next few minutes practicing, "Daddy's, actually. Mommy's, actually. Madeline's, actually." She repeats everything. She's also obsessed with turning things on and off... every light switch, doll that talks, and toy with batteries in our house is getting a run for its money right now.
I find myself loving so many aspects of toddlerhood... her wispy curls, the tiny tush running free through the house, the silly games she plays, and her love of "the milkies." She's out of diapers during the day, needing them only at night, and I know she'll soon look more like a little girl than anything else. It's all going so fast. She's my last, and while I definitely don't want another, there is so much that I will miss about young children. Madeline is changing so quickly that I sometimes find myself studying her, figuring out who she is in this moment. I constantly revel in my girls, and feel so fortunate for my family. I feel corny, but I'm always telling Terry how lucky we are. Every day presents challenges, for sure, but there's nowhere else I'd be.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
And then there were four
I've intended to blog for a while now, but like so many other things, never had the time to initiate the process. Throughout the day I have so many random thoughts, experiences, and ideas, and thought it might be fun to try and chronicle them. It occurred to me tonight that a punching bag might be a good outlet for daily frustration. It also keeps replaying in my mind how last night my 4 1/2 yr old daughter accidentally ended up in the boys' locker room at the high school where my husband teaches. And the silly dance she did for me earlier. And how intoxicating my 15 mo old's cheeks are. Definitely random thoughts.
It's almost summer and I'm definitely looking forward to it. Being the wife of a teacher, the summer is our coveted "quality time." Not sure what this summer will bring. For one thing, my littlest one likes to wander, so I suspect I'll spend a lot of time following her around. My big girl is pretty content to adapt to the majority, so that makes it easier, at least. That's always been her nature, which is why we knew she'd be the "gateway baby" who fooled us into thinking all babies would be as easy as she was. In a sense, that makes her my marijuana, and my younger one... crack? Lol. No wonder her cheeks are so intoxicating...
In all seriousness, one goal for the summer is to continue schooling my older daughter, yet find a way to make it fresh, since it is, after all, summertime. Prepping her for kindergarten feels like a big job. I'd also like to make sure we tie up as many loose ends as possible... house projects, organization, etc., b/c I think the school yr will be even more chaotic once I have a child in the system. I know we'll take a few trips- hopefully we'll visit a friend in RI/MA, another friend on LI, and a trip down to SC to visit my husband's grandfather. I'm hoping we'll get a lot of relaxing time, too... some lazy afternoons down at the pool, and mornings at the playground.
Hopefully, my sanity will remain intact... or at least... not deteriorate any further. ;)
It's almost summer and I'm definitely looking forward to it. Being the wife of a teacher, the summer is our coveted "quality time." Not sure what this summer will bring. For one thing, my littlest one likes to wander, so I suspect I'll spend a lot of time following her around. My big girl is pretty content to adapt to the majority, so that makes it easier, at least. That's always been her nature, which is why we knew she'd be the "gateway baby" who fooled us into thinking all babies would be as easy as she was. In a sense, that makes her my marijuana, and my younger one... crack? Lol. No wonder her cheeks are so intoxicating...
In all seriousness, one goal for the summer is to continue schooling my older daughter, yet find a way to make it fresh, since it is, after all, summertime. Prepping her for kindergarten feels like a big job. I'd also like to make sure we tie up as many loose ends as possible... house projects, organization, etc., b/c I think the school yr will be even more chaotic once I have a child in the system. I know we'll take a few trips- hopefully we'll visit a friend in RI/MA, another friend on LI, and a trip down to SC to visit my husband's grandfather. I'm hoping we'll get a lot of relaxing time, too... some lazy afternoons down at the pool, and mornings at the playground.
Hopefully, my sanity will remain intact... or at least... not deteriorate any further. ;)
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