Balancing Act

It has been an absurdly long time since I have sat and thrown some words together. I started this blog as an opportunity to force myself to do something that I love and to make time to reflect on Motherhood.  Writing has always been a comfort for me.  Through many ups and downs in my life, I have always found myself reaching for a a pen and paper to get myself through.  Infuriatingly, I can't seem to find the time to do it.

I’m coming to the realization that a weekly commitment to a blog is not feasible for me.  Monthly?  Maybe.  Annually?  Absolutely!  With two kids under four, life has started to take me to new contemplation of the term “busy.”  Let’s not forget sleep deprived, overworked, stressed.  My wardrobe is a disaster, shoes falling apart, split ends everywhere.  I have clean sox, but not many without holes or that are ever anything but the color grey.  Honestly, I am a hot mess day to day.  If I can guzzle a cup of coffee, make the beds and vacuum the floor, I feel sincerely accomplished.   I most likely would not be able to survive without Google calendar and caffeine.  I’m coming and going in a blur.  Add to the madness that I work four to five nights a week, which contributes much needed money to the checking account, but also adds to my exhaustion. 

I feel disconnected from my friends and family because I don’t have time for a decent phone conversation or cocktail out in the real world.  When I do have time to sit on the couch, it is usually with my husband a glass of wine and a half-assed conversation while we try to catch up on one of our DVR’ed shows that ultimately results in me falling asleep while sitting straight up. 

I hate sounding like I am complaining because my life feels nothing short of wonderful.  However, from the time my feet hit the floor in the morning, it is a never ending to-do list until I plop in bed for the night.  I will admit I am the queen of multi-tasking.  For example, right now I am typing this post while deflecting Tommy with my foot so that he will not eat the potting soil in my floor plant. 

I often wonder how people continue friendships and relationships once they become a Mom.  It is certainly one of the most incredible experiences I’ve ever hoped to have and I would never change a thing.  But I am without a doubt the shittiest friend right now.  I remember birthdays and I always show up at special occasions.  How on earth to people have the time and energy to fill a day with busy little people, packed calendars with ballet classes and wiggle & giggle time and are able to socialize with friends and loved and maintain quality relationships?  How do they hide the bags under their eyes and look over at their husbands and say, “Yes honey.  I totally want to make out right now though I’m pretty sure I haven’t showered since last week’s swim lesson.”  (I’m guessing they are heavily medicated or undercover alcoholics.) 

Thankfully, I do have a have a few compassionate girlfriends who actually get it.  And as a matter of fact two of these friends don’t even have children and excuse my horrible flakiness constantly.  Even better than that, they make an effort and constantly work around my hectic life just to hang out with me once in a while.  If that is not the definition of a true friend, I don’t know what is.

I really do feel as though my daily life is a balancing act.  It’s a struggle for me.  Some days are easier than others but mostly I am just hanging on and looking forward to the extra half hour of sleep that my husband sometimes affords me on the weekends.  Usually it’s Sunday morning.  (So, let’s throw in a little guilt trip in right there.  Tommy is a year old and the only time he’s been to our church is for his Christening!)  I find myself counting the hours until nap time and then afterward counting the hours until bedtime.  Isn’t that just lovely?

Wow...!  This felt good to get out.  I’m feeling much better.  I guess I will reheat my coffee for the third time and reward myself with an episode of Parenthood...while counting the hours until the munchkins get into their pajamas.  Or better yet, until my husband comes home with some form of alcohol.

A Mother's Intuition

Lately, I have been reflecting a lot about how fortunate I am to be a Stay-at-Home-Mom.  I remember having Rosie and arranging a daycare for her so that I could go back to work.  When it came time to do it, I was frightened, sick, terrified.  It wasn't the right choice for me and I did everything I could to make sure I could stay here with her.  I was fortunate to find a job close to home working nights.  I work four nights a week to this day.  And while most days I am beyond exhausted and challenged by the full time responsibility, I never regret my choice to be here with them.

Unfortunately, not everyone is as lucky as I was in my situation.  Maternity Leaves are so unbearably short and most families nowadays have two parents that have to work full time to make it all happen.  This leaves young parents searching for childcare and help.  It's such a hard thing to go through.  Especially as first time parents.

A very close friend of mine has found herself in a terrible situation with her childcare provider, and I felt strongly that I wanted to share her story.  Mostly to help her find closure, because I know there are so many women out there that can relate to her.  I also wanted to bring awareness to other young mothers that sometimes things just aren't what they seem.

My friend began her relationship with her daycare provider when her daughter was very young.  She was in the same predicament that many women today find themselves in.  The struggle that they want to be home with their brand new baby, but that life demanded her to maintain her career.  She was fortunate enough to have a loving mother and mother-in-law to watch her daughter part time but needed a place to bring her to fill the gap.  She found a well-recommended Mother-Daughter Team type daycare facility.  Reputable, friendly, dedicated.  She was thrilled because it felt like family.  It felt like a home away from home where she could leave her beautiful baby girl without worry or strife.  It seemed like the perfect place... until it wasn't.

My friend began noticing inconsistencies.  Small things like schedule changes, missed naps, etc.  Nothing too serious, but important enough to inquire about and ask for help in maintaining.  There were other things... nothing too dramatic, but things that concerned her with cleanliness that made her uneasy.  But she loved it there.  She knew that her daughter was loved and happy and that was what comforted her in the hours that she had to leave her.  

One night the baby was getting a bath and Mom noticed a good size scratch on the back of her head.  It concerned Mom, because she didn't know where or how it got there.  So, she did what any parent would do, she asked the daycare provider, the people who spent the most time that day with her, if they had noticed it and if anything had happened at school that day?

And you know what happened?  They attacked her.  They told her she was overreacting, that she was fabricating accusations and that it was offensive to them.  Furthermore, that she should think about finding one-on-one child care since that was not the kind of quality attention that they could provide to her daughter.  Mind you, this was over text message.  Not in person, not over the phone, but via text message.  

My friend was shocked.  She politely asked if she and her husband could sit down to have a discussion with them, to try and get on the same page and to just reconnect.  They responded with, "That will not be necessary.  I have a two week notice termination paper for you.  Our differences cannot be resolved.  Sorry it had to come down to this."

So... over text message, my friend's daycare provider ended a ten month relationship with the click of a send button on their cell phone.  There was no conversation and no explanation.  While I understand there may be more color to this story, I am completely appalled by the unprofessionalism.  But what makes me really sick to my stomach is the absolute lack of compassion.  

What surprised me the most is that the main provider is a mother herself.  There is a certain unspoken bond between mothers where we understand one another and always find common ground with different struggles and challenges in Motherhood.  I think it is shameful that she couldn't find it in her heart to sit down with my friend to calm her fears and make her feel comfortable.  Instead, she slammed the door in her face and told her to take her child elsewhere.  Like she was disposable and had no use for her child anymore.  It is unkind and just plain wrong.  My friend counted on these women to love her daughter like she was her own.  To heal her hurts and dry her tears when she couldn't be there to do so.  She assumed that they had become lifelong friends and would be a loving and nurturing part of her daughter's life.  They proved her wrong, loud and clear.

As a person, I've often been called passive.  I'm often uncomfortable with situations of conflict.  I don't like to stir the pot if it isn't necessary.  I never send back my steak if it isn't cooked right.  If my coffee isn't made correctly, I do what I can with it and move on. 

Since having children, that is the one part of me that has drastically transformed.  If there is something that doesn't sit right with me with one of my babies, I speak up.  Loudly.  As a parent, it is our right to ask questions, have concerns and worry.  We deal with enough guilt and doubt on a daily basis.  Am I doing this right?  Am I making the right choices?  Am I giving them enough?  We are responsible for raising these little people and they count on us to provide a safe and loving environment for them.  

As a Stay-At-Home-Mom, I get a front row seat to much of what happens in my kids lives. At times it is trying because there really is no one to ask for help or pass the blame or get support or encouragement from.  (Yes, honey, you are an amazing husband... I'm talking about self-doubt.)  

What bothers me most about this story, is that my friend had trusted these women to step in and raise her child while she was at work, providing for her family.  That kind of trust is sacred.  Especially between mothers.  

A quote that always stands out to me, “Making the decision to have a child - it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ” ― Elizabeth Stone  

It is so very true.  And I know it is cliche to say, but you never understand that sentiment to it's fullest until you become a parent yourself.  I've come to learn that it truly does take a village to raise a child.  Your friends, family and even other mothers around you to help you remember that you are not alone.  That you are supported and that we are all learning how to make the best life decisions for our families.  Most of all, I've learned that when your intuition is trying to tell you something, you don't shy away from those feelings.  You act. 

Forever Friends

S.O.S.

I love my little life.  I do.  But truth be told, I am struggling with the fact that I can no longer find time for myself.  As matter of fact, I am writing this blog post with two little rugrats, who are up much earlier than usual, running around the living room.  I'm attempting to slurp down my coffee which has been reheated twice and is now chilly again.  I'm sitting here writing this post because I am constantly thinki
ng -a+..*3*39+96*  ....And that was Rosie.

Sigh.

Ahem!  I am sitting here writing this ramble of a post because I am tired of not finding an excuse to sit myself down and write.  I love to write and it makes me feel good and that I have actually accomplished something other than organizing, cooking, cleaning or wiping little bums.

As a matter of fact, it is somewhat ironic that I consider blog writing "me time" and most of that time is spent discussing the ins and outs of the little people that we are raising.

I sound grouchy.  I don't mean to come across that way, but I am attempting to put it out there that I am having a really difficult time with the every day.  I need to make myself accountable.  I want to make a plan and stick to it.  Maybe even *GASP* take a yoga class.  I do find time to sit myself on the couch and submerge myself in a good book on my Kindle, watch a good TV show, squeeze in a shower and maybe even floss a tooth or two.  My point is... I am still here, in this house.  If I am not in the house, I am somewhere with them.  Most likely navigating a full shopping cart with my toddler captain and Little T in the Baby Bjorn, in a sweat because we have not used the potty in a forty-five minutes and an accident is imminent.  

I am craving quality alone time.

I originally started this blog and entitled it "Mommy Mondays" with the expectation that I would sit myself down and write a little ditty on Monday mornings about whatever was going on in our house or whatever inspired me to write.  I need to get back there again.  For my own piece of mind and most of all for my own self preservation!  These little monsters are truly the best thing that I have ever done with my life.  My own masterpieces.  But truth be told, I want more for myself.  And I think that by wanting more for myself, I will be able to be better for them.

Calling all Mommies:  How do you do it?  How do you make time for yourself?  HELP!

Guilt: The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Sitting here, sipping on a coffee, listening to my daughter scream her ever-living head off because she is fighting her nap tooth and nail.  Even better, Tommy is sleeping soundly fifteen feet from her.  I am just trying to take deep breaths and not go into the room and tell her for the hundredth time that I am going to throw away her princess night light or some other godforsaken toy in her room.

I just walked in there and she is standing up in her crib telling me, "MOM!!!  YOU NEED TO COME IN HERE RIGHT NOW.  YOU ARE HURTING MY FEELINGS!  I AM NEVER, EVER TAKING A NAP!  NEVER!!"  So, I laid her down on her pillow... Okay I basically smooshed her into her pillow.  Told her if she doesn't go to sleep right away we are not going to the playground for the rest of the week.  She whimpered, looked at me with big sad eyes and lo and behold... she is finally sleeping.

I hate when I have to wrestle things like this out of her.  I get that it is totally normal, but going toe to toe with her is just no fun.  She is a little force to be reckoned with.  She is busy, imaginative, curious, stubborn, talkative, bold and outgoing.  She drives me absolutely crazy and my patience is tested on a daily basis.

But let me tell you... I have never loved another person the way that I love this little girl.  I am over the moon in love with this little firecracker.  She is my little shadow.  My little helper and my little Chicken.  I couldn't picture my life without her in it.  As a matter of fact, I don't remember what it was like without children.  I've never felt such powerful love and affection.  I have a smile on my face almost all of the time.  I belly laugh at least once a day.

Nevermind, this guy... It goes without saying how happy he makes me.  My heart explodes every time I see his little smiling face.

But here is my newest struggle.  In a nutshell... I'm bored.  The guilt of the way I feel is really killing me.  After a couple of glasses of wine last night, I finally confided in my husband and told him how I am feeling.   I'm starting to feel like I'm running in a hamster wheel.  It really is true that the grass is always greener on the other side.  The life that I am living now, I would never trade in a million years.  But there are times where I feel like I am not being stimulated enough.  I feel tired, exhausted and like I'm burning the candles at both ends.

I hate that I feel this way sometimes, because I know what a privilege it is to be able to be home every day.  I do work part time, but I don't miss much.  I don't get to put my children to bed every night, but their Father does.  The majority of my day is spent with them and I know them inside and out.

When our children are older, I will always be eternally grateful for the time that I have had with them.  I've been able to watch them grow, see every milestone with my own eyes and spend every waking moment with them.  I feel funny even talking about this because it makes me sound ungrateful for what I have as a Stay at Home Mom.  I just never thought I would miss the working world so much.  I never thought I would wish I still had a career or that I could carry on a conversation without bringing up my Son or Daughter every five minutes.

While it is true that I am working every day while raising these two beautiful children, it is a different kind of job.  It's not without effort, but it certainly isn't a chore.  There is a lot of down time.  There are moments where I don't feel like doing anything, I don't feel like going anywhere or going to the park or socializing.  And those moments plague me with such guilt.  If I am not making the most of our day together, I feel like a failure.  I beat myself up and wonder... what have I taught them today?  

First Time on the Swing

If I don't go to the playground, the zoo, aquarium, the park the library... something.  I feel such guilt.  I have all of this free time and I can't find the energy or motivation to get them somewhere every day?  It really bothers me.

Feeding the ducks at The Queens Zoo

I am a slave to their schedule.  Tommy is at the age where he naps mornings from 9 to about 1130, which makes it difficult to get out of the house without completely disrupting him.  Once he wakes, it is so close to lunchtime, that it is a mad dash to make it out of the house to get them to a park, playground, pool or play date.  Then back home for lunch and naps from 1 to 4.  

Cousins' Day at the Pool

Day at The Bronx Zoo

Every day ends with me asking my Husband when he can join me and begging him to make it as early as possible.  Usually, that includes a plea for a bottle of wine.  I don't know if I drink wine because I truly love it or because it makes my evenings slightly more entertaining.  I am constantly worrying that I am not exciting enough for my husband.  I wear the same outfits on a daily basis, usually involving yoga pants and cotton t-shirts.  I look forward to bedtime every night, and actually count the hours until bedtime after they wake up from their naps.  Not because I don't love every moment with them... but because there isn't enough caffeine to keep me going full throttle.

It's a learning process.  I am still trying to figure out what Motherhood means for me and discovering what is best for them.  I'm still changing, still searching and still growing right along with the two of them.  I couldn't be more thankful for the lessons they are teaching me and the ones we will learn together.  Someone once said to me, "Staying home isn't as easy as it seems.  There are good days and there are tough days."  Truer words could not be spoken.  The two of them are the best accomplishments I have.  They are the best things that I created in my life.  But there are times when I want more for myself.  I expect more from myself.  And someday, I'd like to figure out what that may be.

Guilty As Charged

Something I didn't know would come along with the Stay at Home Mom gig?  The guilt.  I don't know for sure if this is something that other mothers deal with, but for me I am constantly plagued with the feeling that I should be doing more.

When I left my full time job to stay at home with Rosie permanently, it was an incredibly rewarding feeling.  At the time, she was only four months old so it just felt like an extended maternity leave.  Funny enough, the plan to stay home was not planned.  I was due to return to work the Monday after Mother's Day 2011.  As the time approached, I began to have severe anxiety about leaving her.  Suddenly, the day care that I had chosen just wasn't the right option for me.  I began to wreck my brain with other ways for me to keep the arrangement of being home with her.  As it turned out, on Mother's Day, I had a complete emotional breakdown and basically begged my husband to let me stay home with her.  My office gave me a bit more time to go over the decision, but really it was done.  

I continued to work at a restaurant in town as a waitress four nights a week.  I've been serving there for over nine years, so when I called and begged for more shifts luckily it all fell into place.  I was able to work four nights while being able to stay home and cover the same expenses that I did when I worked at the office.  It hasn't always been easy and it has taken some serious budgeting abilities, but we've done it.  

I wouldn't change a second of my time home with Rose.  I appreciate it day to day because something inside of me keeps reminding me how quickly it is all going and that someday she won't be this little person that adores me.  I watch everything she does and am always trying to find ways to make each day exciting.

Back to my original point, if I don't find something educational or enticing to do with her every day, I put myself through serious guilt trips.  Her weekly schedule involves some kind of class or interaction with other children every single day.  It may be excessive, but sometimes I feel as though by staying home with her, I have benefited myself with time with her and taken away her ability to become more independent and to have the advantage of being in a nursery school with some kind of curriculum.

Don't misunderstand me, she is super independent.  She needs to dress herself, comb her own hair and won't even hold my hand as much as she used to.  When I clean the house, she is constantly interfering saying, "Me do, me do Mommy..."  I know that she is brilliant and that she is advanced for her age.  And that she is funny and cute and the most beautiful little girl in the world.  (Wait... all parents feel that way about their children?  Huh.)

There are times when people ask me what I do with my time at home and I feel a sort of responsibility to explain all of the things that I do.  Not too long ago, I was having a conversation with my Mom's boyfriend and he asked me, "So, what have you been doing with yourself?"  I understand that this was probably a very harmless question or at the least, a conversation starter.  But part of me began to panic.  How do I explain what I do?  Why am I feeling guilty that I have the time to watch every episode of General Hospital on a daily basis during Rosie's nap time?  Does he realize that I cook dinner, do laundry, sweep and vacuum fifteen times a day all the while keeping a little person excited and interested?  Or should I just break it down into:

Monday:  Gym Class with Dawny Dew

Tuesday:  Mini Kick It at Bruce Chung

Wednesday:  Wiggle & Giggle Time at the Library

Thursday:  Swim Class

Friday:  Music Class with Ellen Watermelon

People, people... I am doing things.  I swear I am.  And yes, while I have time to address my Christmas cards with matching holiday stamps while other people are at the work doing the daily grind, I promise you, I get just as exhausted and am working just as hard but in an entirely different manner.

I always judged people who stayed home and wondered how they could do something so... mundane and repetitive.  Well, let me tell you.  Lesson learned.  It isn't all peaches and cream.  And from now on, I am going to start to work on my confidence and feel good about who I am and what I am doing with my life.

Whew.  Vent over.

Using My Noodle

Well, here it is.  My shiny new blog page dedicated to all things Mommy related.  I decided to do this in order to have a sounding board for myself when things seem overwhelming or just plain hysterical.  I haven't been behind the keys of a keyboard in quite some time.  I can't promise that this blog will be riveting, but it will be entertaining.   Mostly it will just be me sounding off about the hilarity of our family life, and giving myself the chance to use the old noodle since it feels like it is dormant most days.

I came up with the title of this blog thinking that I would commit myself to writing a post every Monday.  Hence, the name "Mommy Mondays".  As you can see, it is Thursday.  So, if anyone is out there, I just wanted to make sure that I set your expectations right where they should be.  In other words, Monday can turn into Tuesday... or in this case, Thursday.  Let's not get carried away with the technicalities of me having to keep my promise of posting on a Monday.

On to more important things, let me tell you a little bit about myself... I am a Stay at Home Mom to a beautiful little girl named Rosie.    She is the love of my life and makes every day fun from the time my feet hit the floor.  She is twenty... Okay, I have no idea how old she is.  She will be twenty-four months old on Valentine's Day.  So, that means that she will be twenty-two months old on the 14th of this month.  There!  She is twenty-two months old.

Seriously, does anyone else find it somewhat strange that we refer to our kids' ages in months?  When I leave a conversation, I literally have to do the math on my fingers.  "Okay, so... Her son is like what... a little more than a year and a half?"  It totally boggles my mind.  It is part of the new language I have been learning over the past twenty-two months called Mommy Lingo.

The first lesson I learned in Mommy Lingo, is that you no longer have the need to be on a first name basis with other people.  I am known as Rosie's Mom in all of our playgroups, music and gym classes.  Don't get me wrong, the very first time that someone called me Rosie's Mom, my heart almost exploded with pride.  I swore that was what I wanted to be called forever.

Since joining the ranks of the Stay at Home Moms in town, I bump into the same people time and time again.  And I hate to admit it, but I really don't know anyone's name.  I know all of their children's names, but I am most certainly not on a first name basis with anyone.  As soon as I meet someone, their first name goes directly in one ear and out the other, yet I am able to retain their kid's name with no problem whatsoever.  There has to be something wrong with that.  Preggo Brain?  Probably.  Anti-Social Issues?  Also a probability.

Anyway, I am Rosie's Mom.  And she is the love of my life.  However, when Rosie turns twenty-four months old, we will be welcoming a new member into our family.  I am expecting on February 21st, only seven short days after Rosie's 2nd birthday.  Needless to say, our household is about to experience a whole lot more crazy.  And I can't wait for every bit of it.