A New Chapter Begins

The milestone that I have been waiting for all these years, has come and gone.  All four children are in school full time.

I'm discovering that my seven hours sans children seem to fly by.  So far the house doesn't seem any cleaner and the dinners haven't been any more remarkable.  I have yet to bake cookies to welcome the kiddos home from school.  I've not done any scrap-booking.  My desk is still a mess, with stacks of papers and things to be done.  And the thing I was most looking forward to - being able to get into a great exercise routine - hasn't worked out that well either.  (But I don't feel that one's entirely my fault since I keep having to go back to the doctor to have him cut stuff out of my back and each time he wants me to take six weeks off of exercise. Seriously, doc?!)

I have been spending a lot of time at the school, helping out with various programs and even in the classroom.  I did manage to thoroughly organize my daughter's room...only to have her mess it right back up, within days.  I made a good start on the other daughter's room and she too messed it right back up.  In fact her room looks about ten times worse than it did before I started.  My one success has been my own neatly made bed every day.  And so far I'm still managing to pack lunches the evening before, which makes life so much better.  (I was having the kids pack their own lunches but after a few weeks of that, I decided I'd better step in and better manage the ratio of healthy to less healthy food!)

Even if the seven hours feel more like three, I am loving this bit of free time.  Dwight and I have started running together in the mornings, which is great.  We often grab lunch together, which is a real perk to having him work from home. I've also been enjoying lunches and Starbucks rendezvous with friends.  And there was even a weekend jaunt to Phoenix to visit my nephew (and his parents).

So life is good. And hopefully soon I'll get into a routine and I'm even hoping to get back to blogging.  So perhaps you might check back in a month or two, as opposed to a year or two.  :)

Milestones

For many years I looked forward with anticipation to the day when all my children would be in school. It would mean no more preschool payments. It would mean no more schlepping them to and from preschool. It would mean no more trying to coordinate preschool hours with bus stop times. It would mean no more last minute grocery runs to provide snack for the preschool class.  It would mean a slightly bigger window of free time than I had ever had before.  These are some of the reasons it was a milestone I eagerly awaited. The day arrived and unlike so many mothers sending their youngest off to kindergarten, I didn’t feel an iota of melancholy about it.  She was ready. I was ready.

The school year has flown by.  There’s just over a month of school left.  Now, suddenly, I’m feeling nostalgic.  Frequently I find myself staring at that little girl, shocked to see that she has somehow turned into a big girl.  Her legs are long and lean. She’s losing that round baby face. Yesterday we drove down to the bus stop in the rain, and while we waited for the bus she read to me from the back seat. Again I found myself staring at her and thinking, “Where did this big girl come from?”

When I was a young girl, I always dreamed of going to college and what I would do and how fantastic it would be. That was the pinnacle. Luckily for me, those four years lived up to my high expectations. At the last minute I opted for a college close to home but I made great friends and had a blast. My sophomore year I went abroad to France and those memories are everything I ever hoped they would be. My junior year was back with my old friends and new friends and it was just as great as all the previous years.  My senior year I changed schools and again, I loved it.  College was definitely a high point for me. But after I finished, I remember feeling that I had made it into uncharted territory. I had never really imagined life after college.  I mean, of course I had planned for a career and I had vague ideas about a husband and children but I didn't have a clear picture of what might come next.  That is exactly what I’m feeling now. 

When the children were younger, I would always imagine how great it was going to be when my kids were all in school and I would finally have some time to myself. This September it’s happening. All my children will be in school for a full day.  I will have seven and half hours every weekday to do things without them. But I never had a clear picture of what the future would look like. Will I go back to work*?  Will I become an exercise fiend? Will I increase my volunteer hours at the school? Will I revisit my many hobbies that have fallen by the wayside these last few years?  I’m not sure. But the more I think about how quickly time has marched me to this place, the more I know that I’m no longer eager for any future milestones. Hopefully those daily seven and a half hours of quiet will give me the rejuvenation I need to be able to slow down and enjoy this process.

*I just couldn't let that sentence go without commenting on it.  It pains me to use that turn of phrase because of course these past nine years of "not working" have been a ton of work. I just wasn’t getting paid to do it. But I digress.

Parental Guilt

Today several of my friends linked to Momastery's recent post on parenting. If you happen to be a parent, you should take a minute and read it. When I finished reading it, I felt like she could have pulled that straight out of my head because that's exactly what I've been thinking (only it was quite a bit less eloquent in my head).

I've had Momastery's blog in my blog roll for a few years because one of my friends told me about her.  In fact, I believe they're friends in real life. (Or I could be completely confused about that friends in real life part. That's also highly likely.)  Anyway, like I was saying, Momastery has been on my blog roll for a few years so it was kind of random when three different Facebook friend linked to that post today because up until then, I sort of felt like Momastery was my private thing...well...private to me and our mutual real life friend (or not).

The post struck a chord. I've been in a weird place trying to figure out how to be me, in the midst of being a mom and a wife. Plus I'm feeling some sort of middle-aged thing going on.  I suppose technically I'm not middle-aged, but that's what it feels like because it feels very much like I'm between things. So I'm trying to figure it all out. How can I be a good parent and a good wife but still be me? Where's the appropriate balance? And how do I find my way there without feeling guilty about claiming that for myself?

This particular chapter in my life started in October of 2002.  I found out that I was pregnant. Somewhere between that moment and the following July, when my son arrived, I became a mommy.  By the time I laid eyes upon my son, I already loved him with an overflowing heart. I loved every perfect detail...because in my eyes, of course every detail *was* perfect. I didn't even know him, but I loved him with an intensity that was overwhelming.

Before he turned six, our household had grown to include three wonderful little girls. After each of their births, I was amazed yet again by that magical love that you can feel for someone you don't even know yet. I would admire their perfect little mouths and hands and toes. I would marvel upon these amazing little people who were mixtures of my husband and myself. With perfect clarity I can remember holding each of them in those first few hours after their birth. And yet, those early years of parenthood are a blur. I had four young children and it was all I could do to survive the day. The days that felt successful were the days I managed to entertain the kids long enough to wash the dishes or pay some bills or fold some laundry or sweep the floors or some combination of the millions of things that mommies do. And now, nine years later, after so many years of trying to tune the kids out, I don't quite know how to tune them back in.

It scares me a little...okay, it scares me a lot.  Every time someone tells me that these are the best years of my life I think "Oh crap! Is this seriously the highlight?" followed closely by, "What the heck am I doing wrong if I'm supposed to be enjoying this?!"  I try to remind myself to enjoy this special time of my life because I KNOW that some day I'll look back on it and miss it.  I've been informed.  But it really doesn't work. Oh sure, I could live in the moment and skip the chores but it *would* catch up with me.  Even if it's nothing more than a grumpy husband who's annoyed at the mess, I'm telling you, it *will* catch up with you. There's no escaping the responsibility of being a parent.

I think we can all agree that we're going to love these little beings to a degree that we never knew possible. And it's totally amazing.  Plus they kind of look like mommy, they kind of look like daddy, which of course makes them pretty much the cutest thing ever. And they say all the stuff you say, but in cute little kid ways which makes it absolutely adorable. Yep, they are cute to the nth degree.

But what you don't quite realize at first is that they're like giant tethers. You won't be able to leave the house because a) it's a pain in the butt or b) it costs too much money. Okay, I may have over simplified things a bit. But it is kind of true. Kids require that you be very responsible, and as we all know, being responsible is NOT exactly what comes to mind when you're trying to have a good time.

I don't enjoy taking my kids to their various activities but I do it because I love them. If I didn't have to feed my kids, I would probably skip dinner as often as not. I certainly never feel like doing the dishes. I don't like helping them with their homework. I absolutely detest resolving their squabbles. I do not enjoy picking up after them. It breaks my heart to watch them struggle with friendships and social missteps. I could go on and on listing all the "parental baggage" that I get bogged down with every day. And I don't feel bad admitting that to you.  Why should I?!  Who *would* enjoy that stuff?!  Why should I feel guilty for not enjoying it?

Am I enjoying my three year-old sitting on my lap right at this very moment...moving my mouse around and occasionally making this screen disappear?  Kind of, actually. I really do love her a lot and she is pretty cute. Her hair is soft and smells sweet. Plus it's kind of funny that I'm sitting here complaining about parenting but since she can't read she has no idea. I've kissed the back of her head several times and played several rounds of "Mommy, close your eyes" so I'm pretty sure she has no clue that she's actually driving me a little crazy.

I guess the trick is figuring out how to enjoy them. I love them and I know that they're totally awesome, but somehow I need to figure out how to just chill out and have fun with them.  (And not just from behind my camera either!) So I think that's priority #1 for this year.

And in the meantime, my back up plan is this blog.  Years from now, when these days have become fuzzy memories and I start to feel nostalgic about the years gone by, I'll pull up these blog posts and remind myself of how much work these years were! And then I'll sit right back down in that rocking chair on my porch and enjoy the peace and quiet while I read another chapter on my Kindle.

Post script

As I sat here reflecting about this post and poking around online, I ended up at An Inch of Gray. I read this post which eventually lead me to the post about Jack's tragic death. The crazy thing is that I suddenly realized this must be someone who lives in this area because I remembered reading about this story back when it happened. Suddenly everything I'd been thinking about the misery of parenting sounded very trite. I'm no longer feeling lighthearted and sarcastic. I've lost interest in trying to "pull it all together".

I do hope to find a better balance in my life. But as much as I beat myself up about my failures as a parent, there's one thing that I can unequivocally pat myself on the back for. All four of my children know that they are loved beyond measure. They are confident, joyful children who feel comfortable being their quirky selves. And for that I am humbled and grateful.

When it rains...

When it rains, it pours - and quite literally this morning.

On Saturday mornings Dwight plays basketball at the gym.  Today he happened to leave his phone behind.  But no biggie.  We never call him there anyway.

The morning was plugging away rather uneventfully until I discovered the girls playing in the upstairs bathroom with their kitchen toys.  This is a big no no in our house.  They're not supposed to play with their kitchen toys in water because we've had several ugly incidents in the past.  So I unhappily scold them and tell them to clean up the water they've spilled on the floor.  In the meantime I hop in the shower and throw Kardynn in the bathtub (which is where all the girls are supposed to be headed, as soon as they finish cleaning up the mess).   Annika saunters into the bathroom and informs me that Kiersten has made a big mess.  Kiersten comes bursting behind her, in tears, saying the bathroom is leaking.

Uh oh.

I reacted poorly.  I might have cursed.  I'm not sure.  But I definitely pounded the tile with my fist.  Not a graceful reaction.  I jumped out of the shower, grabbed my towel and ran down the hall.  At this point, water is pouring out of the bathroom.  The hall carpet is getting wet.  There's water an inch deep all over the bathroom and more pouring over the sides of the toilet.  I grab the plunger and manage to get the wad of toilet paper on its merry way.  (Later the girls informed me that when the wad of toilet paper wouldn't go down, they just kept flushing.  Naturally.)

I'm madly trying to soak up water with all the towels we have...and hopping mad to boot.  Eventually I get the water soaked up reasonably well.  I transport sopping wet towels from the tub to the laundry room and start load number one.  And then I jump back in the shower.

Breathe.

I tell the girls to get in the bathtub and we resume our morning.  I explain that I hope they've learned to not keep flushing the toilet.

The day will get better, right?!

Just now I discovered the puddle of water on the floor in the kitchen.  I unscrewed the vent (water poured out when I did that) and discovered that the puddle is on the other side.  Of course it is.

Is it time to page Dwight at the gym?

Some Things I've Learned About Parenting

This morning I wandered over to Buried with Children and read this post. It was exactly what I needed to read this morning. It also prompted me to get off my butt and finally write this post that I meant to write since Monday.  (Hmm...I guess technically it prompted me to get ON my butt in my chair in front of the computer but I think you knew what I meant.)

On Monday I was feeling very introspective about parenting. I even had an epiphany. It suddenly occurred to me that I'm always focused on all the crappy things I do as a parent and I don't give myself enough credit for the good stuff I do. Am I the only person for whom this was a ground-breaking revelation? I stress that I'm not feeding the kids healthy enough meals. I stress that I'm not giving them opportunity to play organized sports. I stress that I don't do enough crafts with them at home. I stress that I let them watch too much TV in the car. I stress about the times when I yell at them a little too easily. I stress that I don't seem to be able to bathe them as often as I intend. I stress that I forget to have them brush their teeth. I stress about this. I stress about that.

That's what I focus on - all the ways that I'm messing up. Why do I do this to myself?

I think I've mentioned before that I was an awesome babysitter. And I knew it. Presumably this is why I assumed I would be an awesome mom. I loved kids. I was good with kids. What else is there to it?

Ha! That's what I have to say about that. Ha!

Parenting isn't exactly what I expected it to be. I do love my kids and it is pretty awesome when the baby spots me across the house and comes running towards me with her arms out shouting, "My mommy! My mommy!"  But it's also darn hard...and exhausting...and frustrating...and hard.  Did I mention hard? Yeah, definitely pretty hard.

Here are some things I've learned about parenting:

1. It's hard to maintain enthusiasm and stamina for something when you do it around the clock. I consider myself one of the lucky ones because my kids are pretty good sleepers. We put them to bed sometime around 7pm, they're frequently asleep by 8pm and they don't wake up until about 7am the next morning. I think of that wonderful window of time between 7pm and 7am as ME time.

Unfortunately I do have to sleep during that time. And there are a lot of chores around the house waiting to be done. Sometimes I have to run to the store for groceries or a birthday present or a teacher appreciation gift.

As it turns out, ME time isn't all it's cracked up to be.

It gets worse. It's particularly hard to maintain enthusiasm and stamina for something - anything - when you're sick. And guess what?! This job does not include sick days. You just have to suck it up and try to make sure that you don't throw up in the minivan when it's your turn to drive carpool.

2. It's really hard to be consistent. I knew that when you're a parent, you must follow through on your threats. But what I didn't know then, is that your brain pretty much stops functioning once you become a parent. For example, you put your four year-old daughter on time out for four minutes - one minute for every year of age. Four minutes go by and amazingly enough, you didn't have to reset the timer once because she actually sat there like she was supposed to. You sit down next to her and ask "What did you do wrong?"  Meanwhile in your head you're thinking "Crap! I hope she remembers because I definitely do not." (Yes, that absolutely has happened to me. More than once.)

In light of the fact that I have minimal brain power, how on earth am I supposed to remember what I did last week when this same exact situation presented itself? How am I supposed to remember whose turn it is to go first? How am I supposed to remember what I just threatened two minutes ago?

3. It's difficult to hear what your children are saying. I'll admit that I may have a slightly skewed perception of reality with a six year-old, a five year-old, a four year-old and a two year-old but my experience is that kids are pretty loud. In my household there's pretty much a constant drone of "She pushed me! I don't want to! He's being mean to me! I need a drink! Where's my doll? I don't like that! I need to be wiped! She called me 'poopy-head'."

Your brain does this amazing thing where it totally tunes that out and suddenly YOUR quiet is many decibels above another person's quiet. I'll be driving down the road totally immersed in my thoughts when I suddenly HEAR my four year-old is crying because her sister punched her...and has been crying about it for two minutes.

Or worse, you're at a park and another mom has to point out to you that your child is bleeding. (Fortunately that one hasn't happened to me...yet. Similar things *have* happened though.)

I feel guilty about tuning them out but I'm pretty sure that's just a survival mechanism...some sort of micro evolution.  It's a good thing this parenting gig is relatively short-lived otherwise my ears might just go ahead and fall right off. In fact, maybe that's exactly why we go deaf as we age. It's just evolution at work.

4. It's tricky to get your kids to help out. Here's my rule of thumb: getting your kids to do something productive requires at least twenty times the effort on your part, that it would take to just do the job yourself.  It's far easier to take the lazy way out and not bother trying to get them to help. And trust me, reward charts are an administrative nightmare. I have yet to find one that I can stick to. It's not the kids that are the problem, it's totally me. I'll admit it. I just don't have the energy for it.

Kidding aside, I wish I could see myself for what I am. I know I'm doing the best I can. Why can't I allow myself to be a work in progress? I was going to say "a work in progress like the kids" but then realized that perhaps that's part of my problem. I struggle to allow them to be works in progress sometimes too.

A wise person suggested that I sit down with my husband and that we figure out our "tier of discipline". She suggested that we figure out how our discipline should escalate and what offenses deserve what punishment, et cetera.  I think this is a great idea. This way our punishments will be consistent between the two of us. And most importantly, when I get to FIVE and need to discipline, maybe my mind won't draw a complete blank as to what should happen next.

Waterlogged

Yesterday afternoon one of the neighbors knocked on the door to find out if my kids could play. I invited her and her brother to come in and play. As I was escorting the two of them downstairs to the basement where my kids were, I discovered that in the 15 minutes since we'd sent them downstairs, they have created an assembly line and are filling up cups in the bathroom that they're proceeding to dump all over various objects in the other room. The tile entry way is completely covered with water. In some areas, the white carpet had turned gray because the pad was showing through from the bottom. It was CRAZY! We immediately sent our kids off to bed and started to clean up while the neighbor kids played around us. The little boy piped up, "I only play with water at the beach or in the bathtub. We never do this. I'll bet you wish we were in your family." At the time I was so focused on the task at hand that I failed to really appreciate the humor. But now the basement is almost dried out (thank you to those same neighbors who loaned us their little green machine...or whatever it's called) I can now appreciate the comedy.

I joked with their mom that it was probably divine intervention that they were with me when I discovered the scene because it prompted me to remain much calmer than I otherwise probably would have.