Full time mom for the summer (and Book Blurb Friday!)

The kids and I have been out of school for three weeks now and I wonder how full time mothers do it. I mean I love my kids, and I love spending time with them, and my house is much cleaner now than during the school season, but jeeper leepers there are a lot of hours to the day. By 9 PM I don't want to play another game of Uno (especially since I always lose and this is hard to take by someone who is both a type A and B personality!)  And if I don't have a "real" activity planned for the day look out. The kids get tired of doing their own thing and then the arguing starts.

I never thought about it before, but getting dinner ready has become my escape. "Sorry, I can't do_____ (fill in the blank) now because I have to get dinner ready." This is one of the only times I can take a "physical" break from the kids (playing outside doesn't last long-it's too hot or too cold or too windy-I don't want them sitting in front of the TV, and my shower or bathroom trips are only sacred to me.) But just when I think I will lose my mind (I mean I'm either loved or hated by one of my kids on any given day) there are the quiet moments with one or both kids that cancel everything else out.  Have the rest of you felt this way? How do you get through without feeling like such a bad mommy...sigh.
Boy, I'm glad it's

 Book Blurb Friday! This is where Lisa Ricard Claro, from Writing in the Buff, posts a picture meant to serve as a fictional book cover.  It's your job to write a blurb about the book in 150 words or less to entice a prospective reader. Are you up to the challenge?  Here is this week's picture and my story:

The Cinderella Switch
Yawning, Meredith stretched her slender arms and squinted at her dresser-she could barely make out the time without her glasses, but the sun streaming into the room told her she had overslept. She didn’t care-last night had been wonderful, just like something out of an old fairy tale, and she was Cinderella… She grabbed up her pillow and putting it over her face she squealed with delight, kicking her feet against the stiff mattress.

The old tower clock chimed reality, and Meredith tumbled out of bed and into her work clothes. She still had to clean the latrines and help with breakfast before the headmaster made her rounds and before students clamored into the dining hall. She put her glasses on and caught sight of her reflection-if she could pull this switch off, then maybe, just maybe, her life could be different. (142 words)

I don't know why I thought of Cinderella with this photo, but it had such a wistful quality to it that I couldn't help but think of a young girl dreaming. What did you think? I'm coming by to check it out!

Mother's Day Greatness (and Succinctly Yours)

It's Mother's Day and here I sit still in my pajamas-I have been given breakfast (I didn't eat the hash browns my husband had made from scratch because that little voice inside me told me not to-my daughter said I should listen to that voice...), I was given cards and gifts, and now my husband and kids (more my husband although the kids are "there") are cleaning their rooms. Things are going out of this house in garbage bags-ah...

I have to laugh at one of my daughter's gifts. She made me coupons, complete with "rules" governing their use, and five of the ten I can use as many times as I want. (Woo hoo!) I looked over the list and there are things like hugs(that's a repeater, although I had to stipulate that this meant hugs when I want them-my son has been throwing himself at me since I chose this!), sending the kids outside (definite repeater coupon), silent time, computer time, being able to pick the movie title, dinner out, etc. I must say that I love how this girl thinks!

Gifts, cleaning without begging, and the thought that I had something to do with these two wonderful people... What could be better? Maybe a beach vacation and temperatures in the eighties, but I'm not complaining. What did all of you do for Mother's Day?

Now it's time for Succinctly Yours, another writing meme that piggy backs on the idea of Susan of the Stony River Blog. Grandma Goulash posts a picture each Monday and you are to write a 140 character or word story about it. You can also use the word of the day in your post if you wish. This week's word is aquatic. Here's this week's picture and my story:

When I was little I watched cows grazing in that field. Now the field is home to piles of limestone, and bulldozers are doing the grazing.(138 characters)

Just a little depressing for such a nice day I know, but this picture hits close to home. Can't wait to head over to your blogs too!

Oh no...It's dinner time.

My husband and I -or maybe just me with my husband going along to keep the peace- have decided our kids need to learn better table manners, but the process is killing us. Our once semi-pleasant dinner hour is now mommy’s critics corner where violators of the agreed upon protocol are reprimanded continuously from the time we start the meal, until the time the meal is over.

And at the end of the meal, we usually just stare dumbstruck at each other as our rule breakers happily go off to play.

So what brought about our worry concerning our beloved children’s table etiquette? Several things really, like observations during meals out, and then paying more attention to how my kids were eating instead of how much they weren’t eating. My son is a rather picky eater right now, so my main concern has always been in the amount of food he is getting and not in the fact that he chooses to use his fingers instead of his fork. But after painfully witnessing and enduring several dinner blunders, I quickly decided that I had to set a standard of decorum when it comes to sitting down to a meal, and I decided on the following:

• Forks not fingers will be used to bring food to our mouths, and the only exception will be designated finger foods such as pizza. This rule also includes using the serving utensils instead of our appendages to put more food on your plates
This has started to be a real problem in our house, and most of it, I think, is due to just laziness. I can’t tell you how many times I repeat this during one meal, but when I pay attention to what I’m eating and look back again, their fingers are once again on their plates! I remember saying that no one would want to sit next to them at lunch if their hands were constantly in their food, and I got the, “Everyone else does it too” response.

• While singing at the top of your lungs may be enjoyable to you, the rest of us could use a break, so please refrain from doing this at the table and anywhere in our general vicinity.
I would love to sing Christmas caroles with you, but I don't want to be doing dishes at 9:00 PM, so let's eat.

• Coughing without covering your mouth with your elbow is strictly prohibited. I don’t care if you don’t have the H1N1 virus-no one wants you to spew your germs all over their food.
This is driving me crazy because I have repeated this over and over! I know the kids have had the “cough in your elbow” thing drilled into them since pre-school, and I know they follow this rule faithfully in school, so why do they think I want to share in every illness that they have?

• Everyone should wait his or her turn instead of trying to out-talk or drown out another person’s conversation. Everyone has the right to have his or her say in the dinnertime chitchat, but patience is preferred over sulking or tantrums when someone else is talking.
This has been a real problem because big sister wants to monopolize the conversations and then finish her brother’s conversations as well. He was a late talker so my daughter took on the role of his interpreter, only now he would like to talk for himself.

• And speaking of talking, we all would appreciate it if you refrained from talking with your mouth full of food. We prefer to eat the meal without seeing it in an altered state from within your teeth and gums.
This one is better left unexplained.

• Don’t just reach for the dressing, ketchup, or other item on the table. Ask and someone will pass it to you and do so nicely.
I refuse to respond to “give me this,” or “give me that,” and my kids are pretty good with this one, especially after a glare from me.

I introduced a number of these rules to my kids over the years, but none of them have really sunk in and harping on them during dinner is giving me a constant case of indegestion, so that brings us to plan b: consequences for actions. My kids and I are off one more day so we are going to undertake a craft project-a chart of expectations and consequences for mealtime behavior. If this doesn’t work, my husband and I are either going to change our evening meal beverage to wine or we will look only at our plates, but personally I'm in favor of the wine...

Mommy Overload

My mind at this very moment feels like a pile of mush-there is no neuron activity happening whatsoever, I am staring straight ahead, and I haven’t blinked for about a minute now. I am experiencing “Mommy Overload,” I know there is no real cure, and I am hoping to regain a semi-conscious state after my kids go to bed. They are now sitting in front of the TV watching the new Tinkerbelle movie we rented, but because watching this causes even more brain inactivity in adults, I chose to blog about my Mommy Overload instead.

I really don’t know what causes me to actually shut down, but it stems from an inordinate amount of time alone with my kids, especially my son. I feel awful about this, and I wonder if maybe things would be different if I wasn’t a working mom. I mean do stay at home mothers have the ability to hone their tolerance skills more than working mothers just because they have always spent a large amount of time with their kids, or is this just a skill that I lack? I wonder about this a lot, but I still don’t have any answers.

Both the kids and I are off today through November 30 for the Thanksgiving holiday, and I always have these rosy colored visions of what my time with the kids will be like. I envision us all getting up early (but not too early), and I am at the stove busily making chocolate chip pancakes. Everyone is smiling and laughing and we’re talking about all the fun activities we will do together, but then the reality of the day sets in. My son got up when he heard my husband getting ready for work, and since my son gets a little freaked out being the only one awake, he does everything in his power to wake up the rest of us, including the dog! Because I am awake when I didn’t want to be, I am not the happiest of mommies, so cereal and Pop Tarts replace chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, and the smiles and laughter from my dreams become grunts and groans in real life.

Then there are the mundane activities that must be done during the course of the day-the dog needs to be fed then taken out and it’s pouring down rain, you have to tidy up the kitchen after breakfast is over, the kids need a bath, and I find out that I am going to have to run a load of whites through the wash. Before you know it, lunchtime is here and the routine starts all over again-fix lunch, serve lunch, then clean up after lunch. The fun activity today was to go shopping for a Christmas present for my husband, but we didn’t have much time because I needed to go to the bank first, and my daughter had practice today. And once again, my picture of shopping for “daddy” did not include my kids running through the store aisles, having them continually spinning a rack full of DVDs until I told them to stop, having them touch anything that wasn’t nailed down, and losing at least one kid at different times in the store because something else caught their eye.

We finally finished our shopping, I dropped my daughter off for practice, and I was alone with my son. Now don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with him, but too much one-on-one time, especially after the wonderful experiences I had in the store, can be a challenge. I usually like to have his sister around as sort of a human buffer, because my son will talk non-stop to an audience of one, and he started the moment my daughter got out of the car. Here are some excerpts from our many conversations:

“Mommy?”


“Yes dear.”


“If you could be any super hero you wanted, who would it be?”


I named the first super hero I could think of-Thor. Lame, maybe, but I do think the guy gets no respect at all...


“You want to be Thor? Not Superman, or The Hulk?”


“I like Thor so I choose him.”


“Ok, but do you think he would win in a fight against The Hulk?”


“Yes, I do because he could change the weather and suck The Hulk up in a tornado.”


“Oh…”

There was a slight lull in the conversation while my son mulled that over in his little brain, and I decided I should stop by the grocery store on the way home. My son almost immediately started in on a new topic, but this time he didn’t ask for my opinion, he just wanted to relay the latest superhero episode that he watched yesterday, and he told me everything, down to the most minute detail, about the story. I am not sure whether my son knows that after a while I really don’t know what he is talking about-a person can only take so much.

I was then hit with even more “conversation” on the way home, but now he wanted answers to questions, but there were so many that I couldn’t recall them even if I wanted to, but I can tell you that they were along the lines of “why is the sky blue?" I could feel the numbness in my head start, so I quickly immersed myself in getting dinner ready and thankfully my son went off to play. My husband came home, and at last I had my buffer, but it was short lived because when he left to get my daughter, my son decided to stay home with me-yea? Now I am explaining what exaggerate means, and I am asked to spell seriously, and my son starts reading to me from the book Kooks in the Cafeteria while I am trying to type up an entry for tonight’s blog-but it’s no use because there are pictures to see, and questions to answer, and the book to ponder…

So here I sit, quietly basking in the glow of my computer, my contacts feeling like grains of sand in my eyes, when my son calls from his bedroom. It seems he has “forgotten” to go to the bathroom before he went to bed. I listen as he gets out of bed and heads to the bathroom, and I strain my ears for the flush and the sound of running water, two things of vital importance to every mother I’m sure. But I didn’t hear him go back to his room, and as I was turning my head to look down the hall I notice him standing beside me, and after he utters something he forgot to tell me earlier, he gives me a big hug and heads back to bed. I am smiling now despite my mental state, despite the cereal for breakfast, despite all the running around I did today, despite the fact that I forgot to put the laundry in the dryer and will now have to put them through a short wash-despite all my shortcomings, my son still loves me and that’s the greatest feeling in the world. Goodnight everyone and have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Unlucky No. 13

I don’t remember ever having any particular fondness for one number over another, but having the 13th fall on a Friday certainly gives me the willies, and I can blame some of my superstitions about this number from my family. (The Irish are extremely superstitious-I remember my mother running towards me in an intense panic when I opened up an umbrella in the house, and she was near tears when my sister dropped and broke a compact mirror!) Now while I don’t have paraskavedekatriaphobia (phew)-a morose, unreasonable terror of Friday the 13th that about 21 million people in the United States alone are afflicted with, I am not without my qualms when this day is approaching.

No one knows how or why the fear of Friday and the number 13 converged. The Norsemen and Hindus thought it was unlucky for 13 people to gather together, and in Christianity Christ had 13 disciples until one betrayed him. And Friday has been considered unlucky for religious reasons as well-the great flood happened on a Friday, pagan Rome carried out their executions on Friday, and Christ was crucified on Friday. Then there are the unexplainable things that happen on this day, like when a British hospital does a study and finds that admissions to the hospital on Friday the 13th are 52% higher than on any other day. If you put two and two together, you get double the dose of bad luck with Friday the 13th.

According to some, both bad and good happens every day, so if you’re looking for something bad to happen on Friday the 13th, you won’t be disappointed. Well, I had one heck of a Friday the 13th, and be it chance or not, I have just recently calmed down about it thanks in part to having a pretty good day today. Now don’t panic because my family or I did not come to any bodily harm on Friday, but there were more than just a few disconcerting events that took place.

As some of you know, I teach high school, and a day filled with teenagers can be stressful at times, but it isn’t usually normal for an entire class to go bonkers! I had been nervous most of the day, and by 8th period, I seemed to be home free, but then I met with the last class of the day-my broadcasting class. We were finishing the curriculum on interviewing, and I asked the class to write a formal thank you letter to the teacher they interviewed. They were to write a rough draft, then type the letter according to my specifications (I had a layout displayed on my smart board), print it out and give it to me by the end of the period. It was if I had asked them for the world, but I only wanted two lousy paragraphs! I also found out rather quickly that most did not know how to write a formal letter, let alone a formal thank you letter. (I did this when I was in 5th grade!)

They were arguing about why they were to use a colon in the salutation instead of a comma, why they couldn’t indent their paragraphs, and why they had to do this in the first place-because it was the right thing to do didn’t convince them, but because I said so and this is being graded did. I wasn't happy with the final results though-there were many finished papers that still had sincerely on the right side of the page, some didn’t center the letter at all, and there were more than a few that signed their name under their typed name! There is no way I am going to give these to the teachers, so on Monday and Tuesday, much to their delight I’m sure, I am going to teach this bunch how to write both a formal letter and formal thank you letter properly. One step forward, two steps back...

I was glad it was the end of the day and I started getting excited about the weekend-I had rented two movies for my kids this weekend (I did it online at Red Box), and I couldn’t wait to surprise them. I hurried home and waited in our van for their bus-and I waited… The normally prompt bus was almost 10 minutes late, but I didn’t let that phase my mood, especially since my children were running towards me with big smiles on their faces-that is until they stepped into the van! In fact, I could see the scowl start to spread across my daughter’s face the instant she got into her seat.

I immediately gushed about the movies we were picking up, but only my son was as excited as me. My known-to-be-overly-dramatic daughter’s bottom lip started to quiver because she didn’t like either of my movie picks-she wanted that second (and I hope I won’t offend any of you) stupid Tinkerbelle movie. We had seen the first in I guess what is now a series, and I could feel my brain cells drying up as I watched! And the thing is, our movies for movie nights are supposed to appeal to everyone, and watching Tinkerbelle is not something my son wants to do either.

I think I gave some sort of speech about being grateful that I even did things like this and how disappointed I was at her behavior as we drove down the road. My son tried to back me up which led to my daughters yelling at my son and me yelling at her for yelling at him and then telling my son I could handle things. We arrived at the Red Box at our local Walgreen’s, and as I was entering my information into the machine I didn’t notice where my daughter was standing-right smack against the area the movies slide out! I looked up to see one movie trying to come out but her shoulder was blocking it. I quickly moved her away and retrieved the first movie, but the other refused to come out, and the machine wouldn’t take my debit card any more! We had a line forming behind us as I waited for customer service to take my call. The verdict was that the other movie was stuck-Ice Age III, the movie my son has been trying to rent for a few weeks now-and I wouldn’t be charged. Gee, thanks lady.

I looked over and saw my son’s face start to crinkle up, so I told him we would try the grocery store on the way home-and I was bracing myself for a possible ugly scene. Thankfully “his” movie was there, so we rented it quickly, and I decided to head to the deli to pick something out for dinner because I was not going to cook. They say that all’s well that ends well, but as I opened up the right rear door to our van I noticed two huge scrapes from the back bumper all the way to the front-someone or something had scraped the van. I was almost sick because the van is only a couple years old and we had already repaired a ding in the back bumper when I ran into something in the garage!

I got the kids in their seats and they immediately started arguing about I-don’t-no-what, when a call from my husband came in. Do you remember that commercial about Calgon bath beads back in the 80’s? There was a hectic mom about ready to lose it and she says,

“Calgon, take me away.”

The next thing you know she’s in a luxurious bubble bath and there are no kids, no phone, just a tub and millions of bubbles, and this is what I wanted right now.

The evening did get better-the kids stopped fighting, my daughter enjoyed my movie choice, and my husband is pretty sure a grocery cart scraped our van, but unfortunately we didn’t see anything and I’m not even sure it happened on Friday since I hardly ever open up both rear doors. But whether you believe in bad luck being brought on by the evils of Friday the 13th or not, it is Saturday, the 14th, and everything is well. I hope all is well with you too. Goodnight everyone.

Here Sits a Guilty Mommy

I am sitting here contemplating the “me” time I will be having tomorrow, and to be honest, I am feeling more than a little guilty. I am finally going to get my shopping trip while my daughter is at practice tomorrow, and as the school’s photographer (one of my many extra duties) I will be attending our school’s Homecoming dance to snap a few shots of the king, queen, court, etc. A teacher friend of mine will also be there serving as a chaperone, and when her two-hour sentence is up we are going to head over to her house for a late night chic flick! (Her fiancé is out of town, so she decided to spend all her free time this weekend with her friends.)

So what's the problem?

I am worried about a few things though. The friendships I have formed with non-moms never seem to last because they just don’t seem to understand how motherhood changes everything. I mean it affects how you think about situations-that mommy radar is always on- and the fact is, you need to be where your kids are in order to be involved in their lives. There is no “spur of the moment” dash anywhere, as all events must be carefully planned and synchronized, and mothers instinctively understand this.

And?

I also worry about our age difference because even though I have many friends (especially co-worker friends) who are older than me a good 10-15 years, I am fourteen years older than her, so it feels different, and there’s something weird about all this. See I feel young around my older friends, and even though I feel I don’t look-or heavens act-my age, I can’t help feeling old around her.

She’s wearing all the latest fashions while my fashions are a couple years old (I’ve got to get to that mall!), she’s planning her spring wedding while I’m planning doctor and dentist visits, and even though our personalities seem to click, I can’t help but wonder if I should be acting my age.

We are finally going to get together sans kids (she has been over my house three times but I have never been to hers), but the truth is, I don’t know if I can hold out that long! By the time we leave the dance it will be around 9:00 p.m., my usual wind down time, and I probably won’t get home until around midnight, and this mom is going to be tired.

And guilty…the bedtime ritual is pretty important to me, plus since I work, my weekends almost always revolve around my kids. The tired feeling will probably snowball into Sunday, and a tired mommy isn’t a good thing.

Why do I feel so weird?

I am almost tempted to call this off, but even though I have a lot of “all-purpose” friends, I have few that I consider to be close, and I have turned to her more this past summer than any other friend. I just hope I have the nerve… So, until tomorrow, “Here’s looking at you kid.” I always wanted to use that line…

The List

Ah, it’s Saturday, a most treasured day to us working folks, and one that I set aside to do things with my family-I should be happy, but I am slightly irritated at the moment. The day started out well, even though I had to get up early to take my daughter to practice, and getting up early on a Saturday goes against everything I believe in.

A storm was brewing

My mood began to change the moment I decided to clean up around my house, so here I sit, a prepared list in my hands of all the things that really rankle my “rickles”(this is a word I made up when I get angry because it makes me laugh when I say it, and who can stay mad when they are laughing?)
So without further ado, I give you my “mother’s pet peeves list”-you might find we have some of these in common.

• Why am I the only person who can change the toilet paper roll?
  This fact really puzzles me because everyone knows where the toilet paper is kept, and everyone was shown how to change the roll when it gets empty, but the actual act is never completed. There is either an empty cardboard roll left for the unaware discoverer-often me- or the new roll has made its way into the bathroom but hasn’t found its way onto the toilet paper holder. I have interrogated the natives around here, but no one seems to know the answer-or speak the same language, so the puzzle lives on, and I remain baffled.

• And speaking of bathrooms, why am I the only one who can clean the toilet bowl?  Now I should mention that my husband saw a possible storm developing-I gave him “the look”- and he did clean the toilet today, but I can count the times he has done it in the past, and there aren’t many. I am trying to think back to our wedding vows, but I don’t recall saying anything about toilets. I mean there was the, “…to have and to hold, from this day forward,” but I don’t remember any, “ for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, to clean the toilet so you don’t have to” part.
  
  

• And while we are on the subject of dirt itself, why am I the only one in the house who even sees the dirt?  When last checked, both kids had 20/10 eyesight, and although my husband has started using bifocals to see close, there is nothing wrong with his distance vision. I mean the man can spot a deer in a brown field while driving, whereas the rest of us squint in the direction but see nothing. Is there such a thing as dirt blindness-similar to color blindness but those afflicted just couldn’t see the brown and green shades of mud and grass tracked in off the bottom of dirty sneakers? It would certainly explain a lot around here, and it would stop me from torturing myself with little tests to see how long anyone in my family notices a fuzz ball lying on the bathroom floor (my last test lasted a week, and that was because I just couldn’t stand it anymore and I picked the blasted thing up!)
  

The list could go on

I keep thinking of more and more peeves the longer I type, so it would be easy to add to my list, but what would be the use? I remember reading a book titled-I think-Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff-and the items on this list are just that-small stuff. I figured out a long time ago that I am alone, an outsider, when it comes to my feelings about a clean house. The other inhabitants around here have won, and that may not be such a bad thing. I mean, as long as I can live in a semi-clean environment, and get help when things get past that semi-clean nature, I am appeased. Besides, I can either spend all day cleaning or spend that time playing with my kids, and I will always come down on the side of my kids.

Enjoy Your Movie

I can’t believe it’s been six days since my last post, but things were particularly hectic the last few days-you know the kind of days where you feel you should have both a taxicab sign on your car and a maid's uniform? But even though things were pretty crazy, I did something I haven’t done in a while-I watched and listened to my kids.

Now you are all probably rolling your eyes right now while you try to figure out just what I am getting at. We all listen and watch our kids, but did you ever take a step back during the day and become an observer, not an active participant, watching your kids like you were viewing a movie about your life?

The car ride

It was during one of our fun-filled car rides to my daughter’s practice-you know the kind where you need to be there in 15 minutes but the kids get off the bus late, and the dog won’t do his business before you go, and then your son needs to go potty too, so now you have 10 minutes and the trip takes 20? Well, we finally pulled out of the driveway and I started playing a Journey CD to calm us all down, and pretty soon I hear a small, girly-girl voice from the back singing along. I just listened, entranced as my daughter sang in the quietest of voices, then my son piped in, complaining that she was singing too loudly and he couldn’t hear the song. (Ugh, here we go…) I was about to step in but stopped and listened as the two came to an agreement. At this point I thought who are these two and where are my actual children since compromise is not a word they understand, but the end result was that my daughter could sing but had to do it quieter and only during the chorus, and I thought that was a pretty good deal, and realized my kids are growing up...

The restaurant

The school week quickly passed and since everyone was pretty beat, we decided to treat ourselves to dinner at Chiles. This is my new favorite restaurant because they serve regular kid fare and Margaritas, and who could argue with that combination? (Ok, I’m kidding about the Margaritas. At about $4-$5 a glass in these economic times, plus the fact that having one would make me more than a little loopy, I passed, but it’s just the idea that if I wanted one I could have one and that means I am in a "grown up" restaurant and that makes me happy!)
Once again I took a step back as an active member and watched my family as we waited for our meals. My daughter was engrossed in her coloring so she didn’t notice me studying the time it took her to decide on a color scheme, and how peaceful her face seemed as she finished her project. My husband and son were sitting together, mainly because I don’t have the patience for my son’s constant movement during a meal (he is almost on my lap, and I need my space so I can chew in peace). Anyway, they were quite the noisy bunch due to a rather intense game of Tic Tac Toe. My husband is pretty shrewd because he is able to let my son win in the end without making it seem so obvious, and I sat there watching my freckly faced boy laughing at his latest conquest, and I remember thinking how lucky I am.

Bath time and beyond

Well, we are back to school and work once again, and once again things are hectic because my husband won’t be home until late, so it’s me to look over homework, get dinner, clean up, then do bath time, snacks, and the bedtime story. Phew! I finally got my daughter showered after several false starts, and then it was my son’s turn for a bath. I was going through the motions of rinse and repeat when I noticed his toes. I just happened to glance down and see him scrunch his toes up at the end of the bathtub, and I couldn’t help thinking how tiny they still looked, just like when he was a toddler. It was a comforting thought to think that my baby boy wasn’t growing up that fast.
Later, after our story and after my son was tucked in bed, I went into my daughter’s bedroom to wish her goodnight. I always sit on her bed and rub her back and hair-just as I did when she was a baby-and I listen as she animatedly tells me about four bees being on the bus during her ride home today and the escapade they caused, and once again I am the outsider watching the movie that is my life, and thoroughly enjoying the show…

Not a Crisis, Just a Restrospective

As we get older, we sometimes let the roles we play in life define who we are as a person, forgetting about the girl we once were and the dreams we may have had. We tell ourselves that we don’t have time for those dreams anymore, what with business meetings, gymnastics practices, carpools, dinner at 5:30, and we put the needs of others ahead of our own to satisfy our inner caretaker. If you have a family, you take on the dreams of your children, living vicariously through them because they are still a small part of you.

The Reality

I am writing this post not to depress you, but to tell you that you should make the time for yourself again, and I am writing from experience. The paragraph above is about me, the overworked, worn-out woman, who forgot about the “me” in mommy. (Get it? Ok, maybe it is a little corny, but it fit.) My kids are everything to me, and since I am a working mom, my time after work and on the weekends would be dedicated to them, but my 10-year devotion to just them started to take its toll on me both physically and mentally.

The Turning Point(s)

Actually there was more than one “Aha” moment when I was faced with the fact that my life was lacking something. The first time was when a co-worker struck up a conversation with me at lunch asking what I did for fun. My answer was a general one-I do things with my family-and this was true and I loved doing this, but I couldn’t think of any activity that I did that involved my interests. And what I did do for personal fun involved escapism (i.e. reading a good book or magazine, surfing the Web, watching a movie).
The second realization came while I was bemoaning the fact that I was so tired even after getting my 8 hours of sleep, my body always wanted more. I also noticed how going up the stairs was starting to feel like a whole body workout. The very smart man I have been married to for 18 years simply said, “Then do something about it.” He reminded me about some of the perks of our family membership at the local YMCA (one of them is meeting with a personal trainer to customize a workout) and told me to take advantage of them.

The Changes

My physical changes came after I met with that personal trainer and we developed a workout that involved cardio and weight training, and I have to tell you that my energy level is through the roof! I also decided that whoever said “You are what you eat” might have had a point, and I quit coffee (yes, I still miss it) and all caffeine, and instead drink water throughout the day. I also started taking a daily multivitamin and calcium supplement and added salads to almost every evening meal. (My daughter has now followed my lead and enjoys a salad as well.)

I starting out slow thinking about earlier interests, and one former love I had was writing. So now you will have to put up with my posts and comments for a while longer. I also always wanted to try my hand at a short story, and I completed my first yesterday evening. I am so proud of that fact.

My husband and kids have been more than supportive as I pursue new interests, although I have to admit I was a bit surprised, and I still feel a tad bit guilty. I guess this teacher has truly learned her lesson, and I hope it helps you too.

See you tomorrow...

If I complete a post tonight it will be a miracle because my son has been up three times already and we put him to bed over an hour ago. He was never a good sleeper even as an infant, and I can remember rocking him endlessly hoping he would drift off, but I soon realized that would never happen. My daughter was the opposite, and I enjoyed holding her sleeping body, my nose nestled in her hair, as I continued to rock, not wanting to end the special moment.

Now I love my children equally, but I noticed early on that there was a special connection between my husband and my daughter, and this is why the bedtime ritual was so important to me. Since daddy got more attention from my daughter during the day, I wanted her nights. When my son came along, I became the special parent, and my very needy little baby boy was not too crazy about parting with me at night, and this continues to some degree even now.

First attempt

My husband and I each take turns kissing and tucking both children in. I go to my daughter’s room first, kiss her goodnight, and rub her back, while my husband is tucking my son in, then switch, I go into my son’s room and my husband wishes my daughter a good night. Except my son doesn’t let me go away so easily, and suddenly there is something vital he must tell me at that very instant, and it usually comes with a very lengthy oration. After many “I sees,” and “Is that right?” I can finally shut the door, but every time that door goes shut, my son repeats the same three phrases he has been saying to me since he was two, and our little repartee goes like this: “Goodnight mommy.” “Goodnight dear.” “I love you.” “I love you too.” I’ll see you in the morning.” “See you in the morning.”

Second attempt

I then busy myself with getting ready for bed, then I jump on the computer or watch TV thinking, very foolishly of course, that my son is settling down for the night, but this is when he tries attempt number two. He starts to call me so I open his door and he reports that he has to go to the bathroom. Now, my husband and I have caught on to this one, and the last thing he does before bounding into bed is to try going to the bathroom, so I can now reply that he did this already. The response is the usual “Oh, that’s right, I forgot,” so I tell him goodnight, and our little ritual starts all over again.

Three's the charm

Now once again I am free, so I go back to whatever activity had been interrupted prior to attempt number two, and it’s not long before I am engrossed in what I am doing, and this is when attempt number three is tried. Silent as the night my son appears next to me (this always freaks the stuffing out of me), and he is usually sweating, his hair sticking to his forehead, because he is wearing his Spiderman pajamas and the shirt is too warm when he pulls all his covers up… The fix is for him to remove the top-I think he now wants to go to bed like his father- and once again I lead him back to bed with a stern “this-is-the-last-time” warning, but even though I am more than a little miffed, the bedtime ritual is repeated, and my heart melts.
I don’t know how much longer my son will say this to me, but I hope that day is a long time in coming. You see, I too am a person who likes rituals, and I don’t know how I could sleep without my, “Goodnight mommy. I love you. See you tomorrow.” Goodnight everyone. I'll talk to you tomorrow.

The "icky" of kids with colds

I am trying to keep up with my blog posts, but alas (I can't believe I just used the word "alas"- the cold meds must be working overtime) my husband and I seem to have caught my son's cold. Neither one of us got any sleep last night, and today we are walking zombies. (A teacher friend asked me a question in between classes and I just stared at her because what she was saying just didn't register.) The worst part about all this is that today is my husband's birthday, and neither of us felt much like cake and ice cream, or celebrating in general.

Just what is my post today?

So, while I wait for the grogginess to come so that I can get some decent shut eye, I got my recent post idea: Why doesn’t anyone ever tell you about some of the “icky” things you will have to deal when you are a mother? All you ever hear is the wonderful bonds that will form and how this is the best thing that will ever happen to you, and while I fully agree with both these statements, I wish someone had given me a little “heads up” when it came to some of the other things you deal with on a day-to-day basis.

Cold germs 101

Now I hope I won’t gross anyone out, but the reason I caught this cold might have something to do with my son’s new method for wiping his nose-with the front and back of his hands… His doing this doesn’t have anything to do with a lack of tissues in our house because they positively populate every room. (I buy the multi-packs when they go on sale…) In fact, I caught him “doing the deed” while standing directly next to a table where there was, you guessed it, a tissue box, and I just stared in disbelief. I get him to wash his hands when I catch him, but he’s a sneaky wiper sometimes-I know this because, well, you know

Boys against girls?

Is it a boy thing, I’m not sure, but these are the times that no mother likes to relive, or are they? I still remember some of the pretty nasty stuff my daughter did as a toddler and I plan to retell the stories over and over (when we are both older) until people get sick of hearing them. .