I was woken up by one of my three children at 2:30am, 3:30am, 4:30am, 5:30am, 6:30am, and 7am. That's not sleeping; it's napping while it's dark.
One time I was woken up to address this pressing issue: "Mommy, when I swallow, my whole body feels fuzzy."
Even in daylight, I can't fix that one. It is especially difficult to handle at 3:30am.
At 6:30am I was woken up by Michaela to see if it was okay for her to take a shower.
Thursday night cannot come soon enough.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Saturday, November 13, 2010
On Being Home, Being a Mom, Time, Swimming, and Altered States.
A few days ago I posted on Facebook that it was 1:30pm, I was still in my pajamas, I was doing things around the house, like laundry and changing sheets and Alec was following me around the whole day. I have to admit, I was a bit surprised by the comments I received about this, most of which were incredibly sweet and positive and indicated that others wished they were able to do the same things. I am sure that for someone working, getting up early, with a very structured day, a day of loosey-goosey working-in-my-pajamas activities would sound appealing, but I have to be honest with you: when I posted that I was sort of bored (not that there wasn't anything to do, just not anything that I was looking forward to doing), annoyed that I hadn't found time to shower and get dressed yet, tired of holding a clingy baby and a little lonely.
My friend Judy says it best: There's no utopia, baby. Someone else's life/schedule/stressors always look better than your own.
On that day, I would have really enjoyed being sort of put together- at least bathed and dressed in nice clothing, doing something I was getting paid for, interacting with other adults, working on something that was not immediately going to be undone.
And certainly I understand that I have an immense amount of freedom to create my own structure and projects and socialization time. And the ability to bathe and dress myself however I want. I can recreate that for myself, if my baby is able to tolerate me doing that.
But the last few years of my life have been a little like living in an altered state, filled to the brim with needy babies and busy school-age children and broken-up nights of sleep and incredible happiness and fullness and a lack of day-to-day structure and meeting the needs of four other people first and feeling overwhelmed and absent-minded and constantly being interrupted while I'm doing anything and loving things deeper than I've ever felt and experiencing totally uneven levels of productivity. It's like a dreamy, swirly, foggy- and pleasant- universe. I am really only held accountable to my babies, and my husband, and myself, and I have tremendous amounts of leeway to do things when I want, how I want, or not at all. I am protected quite a bit from the big, bad world outside and can easily be comforted by my cozy familiar surroundings. But with that comes this sense of isolation, and the sense of never getting anything done, especially since my clean kids get dirty again, the food I cook gets eaten, the clothes I wash are worn, and the items I pick up always manage to find their way out again.
It all seems able to slip through my fingers, especially time, and while I remember clearly when I stopped working to have Jenna, now I look at portraits of my babies on the wall, and they seem so incredibly big and grown up and I wonder where the time has gone.
And I realize: it has swirled around me all this time and I have been swimming in it, day after day, hour by hour, making and growing these wonderful children and here they are, happy and healthy and seemingly not headed towards being serial killers. Not yet, at least. And this is my work.
A few weeks ago at a party someone met my kids for the first time. "You have beautiful children," she said. "Thanks," I answered. "I grew them myself!" And I felt kind of silly for saying that afterwards, but then I kind of liked it. I did grow these kids myself, and I am pouring my heart and soul into them every day.
The trouble/curse/blessing with being home with little kids and a baby is that the day stretches out before you, full of promise. Or boredom. Or frustration. Or magic. And some days you don't shower, or get as much done as you thought you could or thought you should, and you are rushed or looking for something to do or someone to talk to. It's on you.
You are the master of that ship, and responsible for whether it- and you-sink or swim. I definitely know I am swimming, doing fine, very happy with my place in life. But there are some days when you are barely treading water, and a different life looks pretty good... just for that day.
There's no utopia, baby.
My friend Judy says it best: There's no utopia, baby. Someone else's life/schedule/stressors always look better than your own.
On that day, I would have really enjoyed being sort of put together- at least bathed and dressed in nice clothing, doing something I was getting paid for, interacting with other adults, working on something that was not immediately going to be undone.
And certainly I understand that I have an immense amount of freedom to create my own structure and projects and socialization time. And the ability to bathe and dress myself however I want. I can recreate that for myself, if my baby is able to tolerate me doing that.
But the last few years of my life have been a little like living in an altered state, filled to the brim with needy babies and busy school-age children and broken-up nights of sleep and incredible happiness and fullness and a lack of day-to-day structure and meeting the needs of four other people first and feeling overwhelmed and absent-minded and constantly being interrupted while I'm doing anything and loving things deeper than I've ever felt and experiencing totally uneven levels of productivity. It's like a dreamy, swirly, foggy- and pleasant- universe. I am really only held accountable to my babies, and my husband, and myself, and I have tremendous amounts of leeway to do things when I want, how I want, or not at all. I am protected quite a bit from the big, bad world outside and can easily be comforted by my cozy familiar surroundings. But with that comes this sense of isolation, and the sense of never getting anything done, especially since my clean kids get dirty again, the food I cook gets eaten, the clothes I wash are worn, and the items I pick up always manage to find their way out again.
It all seems able to slip through my fingers, especially time, and while I remember clearly when I stopped working to have Jenna, now I look at portraits of my babies on the wall, and they seem so incredibly big and grown up and I wonder where the time has gone.
And I realize: it has swirled around me all this time and I have been swimming in it, day after day, hour by hour, making and growing these wonderful children and here they are, happy and healthy and seemingly not headed towards being serial killers. Not yet, at least. And this is my work.
A few weeks ago at a party someone met my kids for the first time. "You have beautiful children," she said. "Thanks," I answered. "I grew them myself!" And I felt kind of silly for saying that afterwards, but then I kind of liked it. I did grow these kids myself, and I am pouring my heart and soul into them every day.
The trouble/curse/blessing with being home with little kids and a baby is that the day stretches out before you, full of promise. Or boredom. Or frustration. Or magic. And some days you don't shower, or get as much done as you thought you could or thought you should, and you are rushed or looking for something to do or someone to talk to. It's on you.
You are the master of that ship, and responsible for whether it- and you-sink or swim. I definitely know I am swimming, doing fine, very happy with my place in life. But there are some days when you are barely treading water, and a different life looks pretty good... just for that day.
There's no utopia, baby.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Happy.
These things have helped me retain my sanity while I manage a weekend ahead without Dan, a bouncy fourth grader, a needy kindergartner who lost her watermelon-scented smencil on the bus today, and Mr. Clingy Von Clingster, who is teething and miserable:
1. Walmart: Okay, Walmart makes me happy no matter what's going on in my life, but I love it around the holidays when they start filling up the aisle displays with baking items, tins full of gingerbread spice cookies, endcaps with stuffing, cranberries and other holiday foods, and of course the ultimate sign of the holidays: bags of red, dark green and light green M&Ms. Something about Walmart's brilliant marketing and anticipating my needs as a consumer makes me feel... well, like I have to work less to buy the things I want. Because it's right there within easy reach. If only more areas of my life had the same devotion to anticipating my needs. Sigh.
2. Shopping channels: Oh, yes it IS time to start watching HSN and QVC. Last night I was beside myself as I flicked back and forth between Colin Cowie and his brilliant entertaining ideas and Bethlehem Nights Seasonal Lighting shows. All of it, I want all of it!!! And the ideas of how to use the items! So many suggestions! Battery powered LED lights and garlands and topiaries and you can set the lights to twinkle or steady and the indoor fireplace that Colin was touting which you hang on the wall and the co-host who I swear said the word, "LITERALLY!" about 382 times. ("LITERALLY, if you can hang a picture, you can LITERALLY hang this fireplace! LITERALLY!") I am mesmerized by the cheerfulness, the eagerness, the call-ins, the whole thing.
3. Christmas Music: I turned on Christmas music today to listen to while I folded laundry. I know it's early, and many, many people get very sick of Christmas music, but I love, love, love it.
4. Travel: Two weeks from today I will be in Chicago with my brother and his family. Hopefully on my third glass of wine.
1. Walmart: Okay, Walmart makes me happy no matter what's going on in my life, but I love it around the holidays when they start filling up the aisle displays with baking items, tins full of gingerbread spice cookies, endcaps with stuffing, cranberries and other holiday foods, and of course the ultimate sign of the holidays: bags of red, dark green and light green M&Ms. Something about Walmart's brilliant marketing and anticipating my needs as a consumer makes me feel... well, like I have to work less to buy the things I want. Because it's right there within easy reach. If only more areas of my life had the same devotion to anticipating my needs. Sigh.
2. Shopping channels: Oh, yes it IS time to start watching HSN and QVC. Last night I was beside myself as I flicked back and forth between Colin Cowie and his brilliant entertaining ideas and Bethlehem Nights Seasonal Lighting shows. All of it, I want all of it!!! And the ideas of how to use the items! So many suggestions! Battery powered LED lights and garlands and topiaries and you can set the lights to twinkle or steady and the indoor fireplace that Colin was touting which you hang on the wall and the co-host who I swear said the word, "LITERALLY!" about 382 times. ("LITERALLY, if you can hang a picture, you can LITERALLY hang this fireplace! LITERALLY!") I am mesmerized by the cheerfulness, the eagerness, the call-ins, the whole thing.
3. Christmas Music: I turned on Christmas music today to listen to while I folded laundry. I know it's early, and many, many people get very sick of Christmas music, but I love, love, love it.
4. Travel: Two weeks from today I will be in Chicago with my brother and his family. Hopefully on my third glass of wine.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
Halloween: By the Numbers.
60: Number of pieces of candy Jenna got trick or treating86: number of trick or treaters who came to our door
350: apparently the number of trick or treaters I was expecting to come, based on the amount of candy I bought
158: number of pieces of candy Michaela got trick or treating
1: number of times it had to hail on Jenna while trick or treating before she gave up and came inside
2: number of neighborhoods that Michaela trolled around looking for candy
15: the number of feet I had to carry Jenna at our YMCA's Haunted Trail, which totally freaked her out
10: number of times I had to remind MYSELF that the Haunted Trail was NOT REAL
Seemed like 20: the number of times on the Haunted Trail that a real person in the pitch-black woods fired up a REAL chainsaw and then laughed like a maniac
60: number of minutes it took to do hair and makeup for Halloween... 'cuz it's ALL about the hair and makeup.
150: number of people at our neighborhood's Halloween Parade and block party
2: number of bouncy-bounces at the Block Party
1: number of 24' climbing walls at the Block Party
7: number of bags of candy I have bought since the beginning of October and rationalized by saying, "This is for Halloween..."
220: number of calories in a Hershey's Cookies and Cream fun size bar
200: number of calories in a Hershey's Chocolate bar
90: number of calories in a Reese's Peanut Butter Pumpkin fun size candy, further advancing my belief that there IS a God and He loves me
3: number of scary-type house settling noises Dan and I heard last night after we watched The Walking Dead on AMC
15: number of zombies we watched get shot at point blank range during The Walking Dead on AMC
0: number of pumpkins we carved this weekend
0: number of times the kids seemed to notice we didn't carve any pumpkins
1: number of trick or treaters dressed as Snooki that came to our door (I LOVED it)
1: number of times my heart broke when Michaela announced she didn't want to carry her Pottery Barn kids pumpkin trick or treat candy holder, she wanted just a plain pillowcase, and I realized that she may be growing out of it (sniff!)
7: number of times I felt guilty because I didn't buy Alec a costume
2: number of Halloween-themed t-shirts that Alec rocked all of October and looked adorable
4: number of pieces of candy that Jenna can eat, very quietly, before I realize she's eaten FOUR PIECES OF CANDY 10 MINUTES BEFORE DINNER
3: number of boxes of nerds Jenna got trick or treating
3: number of boxes of nerds I am coveting
1: number of times I sighed with relief when this crazy weekend was over
4: number of times I told people today we had an AWESOME Halloween
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