Sometimes getting it together to do the things that would make me super-mama is a way bigger challenge than finding the initial inspiration. Take, for example, me desire to simplify our lives, our house, our schedule, and be more present with my kids. Has it happened in the magical way I envisioned it? Oh, hell no. Has it happened, really, at all? Maybe a tiny bit. A teeny tiny bit.
I have a list of craft projects that I *really* want to do hanging out bookmarked on my new computer, but I also have a list of books to read, things to clean, projects around the house, and other crafty projects that are not bookmarked to attend to - and that is if I have the motivation to anything other than eat ice cream and pie and watch TV. (OK, so that's just what I will probably do tonight, because I did bake a kickin' blueberry pie past night, so you know...)
I have been getting some knitting done. I have also been getting a little bit of research and organizing done to help me navigate Henry and his Aspergers. Of course, Toby has been in full time daycare the past week, and will be for the next month, and Henry has not been in school at all, so honestly scheduling has been so much easier for me. Whether it's all less stressful for the kids, eh?
I need tips from mamas or others on a few fronts, because I have these aspirations and I would really like to accomplish, and would love a little advice on making it come together:
1. Whole foods. While I would love to say that we never eat anything packaged, or take out, or crappy, we do. I am probably worse than the kids or Bret, but the reality is that our goals of not purchasing things we can make has not really worked out so well. We were doing better when we had the share from the CSA, but even then, I would hit the end of the day and not feel like cooking, and either cobble together something fast and dirty (and not generally something that Jamie Oliver would look kindly upon) or grab take out. Blech. We want to be baking bread, making cheese and yogurt, making crackers (maybe, that seems like it could be crazy-talk with my little nutters), making bagels... BUT, cooking with our crazy children around is next to impossible. By the time we hit the weekend, if Bret's inspired to make things, I've just gotten desperate for a break from being touched and whined at all the time, and hate letting him take off into the kitchen for hours. I don't really want to be in the kitchen for hours on end, in part because I am lacking in inspiration and confidence, and in part because I long for pre-kid weekends of sloth. Help me people. I need tips to inspire, and tips on freezer-ready foods! We do have a huge chest freezer, and having one cooking day a week and a few frozen-dinner-we-made-ourselves meals a week would be completely acceptable. Now if I could just get Henry to eat these things...
2. Crafting. I love knitting, handwork, needlework, blah blah - I need more time and more space for all of this craziness. I am getting better about keeping the stash manageable, and also getting better about not stockpiling too many projects because I am always finding new ones, but how do you crafty mamas do it? I see these amazing blogs, and I think to myself, "Self, these mamas cook from scratch, nourish their children's souls, look cute, make everything, and also take fashionably adorable photos of their cooking, houses, crafts, and clean children all the time. What gives?" Oh, and they have like five kids under seven to boot. Beyond the question of Who the hell are these people?, I want to know how they have the time to even create the image that they are making all this happen, and blogging about it?!?! It means that on some level the level of craftiness I want in my life must be possible, because I don't feel the need to be many of those other kinds of together, but I would like to be able to make a damn quilt once in a while.
3. Playdates. Where are you people and how can I find you? And how does anyone with children hang out with other people ever, because even with our more mellow schedule, I don't know that I could coordinate a playdate if I was getting paid to do it right now. Henry could use some more playdates, so holla!
4. General house maintenance. I feel like as we prep to do these renovations, everything is kind of falling apart. But I still need to call a plumber, possibly the alarm company, just had the phone company here, just got the AC fixed... Looking around, there are things that need painting, everything needs dusting, the exterior needs a good pressure-washing at minimum, every room could be cleaned out and reorganized. I don't have the time for any of this, let alone all of it so that we can have a nice house that's all put together. Or even a yard sale that would clear things out and also make us some money. It's like even these seemingly smaller-scale projects get swallowed in this overarching whole that is just, well, overwhelming. Not overwhelming in an end-of-the-world, or Hoarders kind of way, but just a little overwhelming. Enough to make me say a swear word under my breath and then opt to eat a piece of pie (I still need to go do that...)
So, send me your tips on whole foods (from scratch) cooking, baking, and canning, creating space for crafting, paying well with others, and generally getting my house in order. I know these are some of the ever-present mama issues, but whatever. I have to ask.
On another note, Toby and Henry are sharing "their" room for the first time tonight, so think happy thoughts for good bunk bed sleepers, with pleasant pixie dreams!
Showing posts with label Mama Law. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mama Law. Show all posts
Monday, July 18, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Open Letter to My Friend
I miss you so much. I find myself thinking of you more than I ever imagined I might. Sometimes it feels peaceful, and other times I'm terribly sad. Today was a mix. Visiting, in the shade of a beautiful tree, whispering to you all the things I've wanted to say, I was so sad, but so at peace.
I like to think you'd be proud of me for how I'm handling these mama-challenges I never expected. It's in the moments of most intense challenge that I find myself wishing I could talk to you, seek your advice, hold onto your calm. But it's also in the moments of bliss that I wish you were here to share them with me.
I don't know what step I'm on in terms if grieving you. I don't think I've fully accepted that you are gone, and I don't know how to get to a place of peace about losing you just at the moment that our lives were really coming together. I'm hoping that visiting today, marking today with rosemary on your grave, and thinking of you with a mix of joy and mourning will help me move forward.
Steckley is having her baby any time now. We are all visualizing her birthing her today (at her request), wishing for a peaceful birth. I'm hoping she will come today. Somehow, the thought of a life coming into the world today feels like salve for losing such a beautiful life on this day three years ago. Perhaps Steckley's daughter will possess some of your beauty, calm, and deep wisdom. And perhaps you will be with Steckley, and give her strength, as she brings more life into this world.
You were one of the most amazing mamas I have ever known. You helped shape my conception of motherhood, and I am so grateful to have had you in my life, even though it was for far too short a time.
I miss you, love you, and today I honor you.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Sometimes There Are Moments...
One thing I have discovered during this crazy adventure of becoming a parent and all the hullaballoo that comes along with it is that I sometimes don't want to be a parent. This is not to say that I don't adore my children and that I am not head over heels in love with every teeny tiny thing they do, but I miss being able to call it in every now and again. I miss being able to stay in bed on a Saturday and read a whole book. I miss being able to, on the fly, make plans at 5:00 for a dinner date with friends that night, and have the option of dancing afterwards just be open. I miss sleeping in until the last possible moment and running around getting ready in five minutes and flying out the door - and having that be OK.
I don't miss these things all the time, but lately I have been missing them a bit more than perhaps I ought to miss them. It could be that winter makes even the most energetic among us want to hibernate (shut up, it does and you know it) or it could be that juggling all the therapy schedules with fundraising for Henry's school, my own therapy, diet, yoga, and other aspirational plans is hard. I almost always lose the "who's got the most important appointment" game, and all the snacks wreck my diet. If I had will power it would be easier, sure, but hey.
Today wasn't one of those days, though. I was surprised. I was tired and cranky in the morning, and wanted to go back to bed more than anything. But Toby is cute, and we managed to make it to the kitchen for his milk with lots of smiles and squeals, and that set us on a good course for the day. Things went pretty smoothly, all day. Henry went to school. Toby and I shopped at TWO grocery stores. He napped. I napped. We woke up at the last minute and picked up Henry. Now, in a perfect world I would have not napped, been ready for the post-school snack demands, had everything together and my gym clothes on, and I would have made it to yoga. But that didn't happen, and instead of being annoyed or stressed, I let it go. I let the boys play and watch a couple of shows while I did a few things, and then we just unplugged for a while. We tickled and laughed and played. It was fun, and I found myself genuinely enjoying spending time with my children more than I have in a while. That sounds awful, but it's really just that I have so much on my plate these days, I find it hard to let go and just BE with them. This afternoon, I did, and it was awesome.
And then, after dinner and bath time, Henry and I bundled up and walked around the front yard finding out what the big stars were. His iPad is awesome, so you point it at the sky and it tells you what you are seeing. His favorites were Jupiter and Beetlegeuse (I am sure I spelled that wrong, screw it), and he was terribly disappointed that there was no moon tonight. It was a lovely, random, brief encounter that made me remember how much I adore this kid. He can be difficult, and his challenges are very real, but he is awesome. And sweet. And smart. It was the perfect way to end a great day.
There are a million kinds of moments in parenthood; I'm hoping that this year I will be able to have a lot more of today's moments, because they are wonderful and sweet and make all the early mornings worth it. OK, maybe not ALL the early mornings, but at least two days a week.
I don't miss these things all the time, but lately I have been missing them a bit more than perhaps I ought to miss them. It could be that winter makes even the most energetic among us want to hibernate (shut up, it does and you know it) or it could be that juggling all the therapy schedules with fundraising for Henry's school, my own therapy, diet, yoga, and other aspirational plans is hard. I almost always lose the "who's got the most important appointment" game, and all the snacks wreck my diet. If I had will power it would be easier, sure, but hey.
Today wasn't one of those days, though. I was surprised. I was tired and cranky in the morning, and wanted to go back to bed more than anything. But Toby is cute, and we managed to make it to the kitchen for his milk with lots of smiles and squeals, and that set us on a good course for the day. Things went pretty smoothly, all day. Henry went to school. Toby and I shopped at TWO grocery stores. He napped. I napped. We woke up at the last minute and picked up Henry. Now, in a perfect world I would have not napped, been ready for the post-school snack demands, had everything together and my gym clothes on, and I would have made it to yoga. But that didn't happen, and instead of being annoyed or stressed, I let it go. I let the boys play and watch a couple of shows while I did a few things, and then we just unplugged for a while. We tickled and laughed and played. It was fun, and I found myself genuinely enjoying spending time with my children more than I have in a while. That sounds awful, but it's really just that I have so much on my plate these days, I find it hard to let go and just BE with them. This afternoon, I did, and it was awesome.
And then, after dinner and bath time, Henry and I bundled up and walked around the front yard finding out what the big stars were. His iPad is awesome, so you point it at the sky and it tells you what you are seeing. His favorites were Jupiter and Beetlegeuse (I am sure I spelled that wrong, screw it), and he was terribly disappointed that there was no moon tonight. It was a lovely, random, brief encounter that made me remember how much I adore this kid. He can be difficult, and his challenges are very real, but he is awesome. And sweet. And smart. It was the perfect way to end a great day.
There are a million kinds of moments in parenthood; I'm hoping that this year I will be able to have a lot more of today's moments, because they are wonderful and sweet and make all the early mornings worth it. OK, maybe not ALL the early mornings, but at least two days a week.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Open Letter Weekend
This open letter may not be of the usual ilk, so bear with me. It's been an exceptionally long week, and long weekend, so I'm not feeling prickly or perky or funny or any of those things that make for a good, fun open letter. I prefer that sort, but tonight you get me as I am, which is this:
And Open Letter to Parents of Neuro Typical Children, and Parents of Children without Major Medical Issues:
I understand. It's a mama law. Where one is standing feels like the clearest place in the world, even when it is difficult. One's own struggle feels like it is the most important, and one's own experience feels like it is somehow both linked to all others and somehow completely unique. I understand the reflex to compare children, to compare experience, to relate the experience that you are hearing from another parent to your own experience as a parent, or to a parent that you know, or the parent you saw on a TV show. I understand.
I beg you to stop.
As the parent of one child with Asperger's Syndrome and hyperlexia, and another who wears contacts and/or glasses due to surgeries in his first few weeks of life to remove congenital cataracts, I plead with you to stop. My struggle with their issues is my own, and I admit that I feel like it's the most important thing in the world. Their struggles (and my own) feel like they are connected to all other children's issues and also unique. Both of these things are true, but we are living a different life that you genuinely can't understand. It's OK. We are OK.
The thing is, it's been a long week. Potty training an almost four year old boy with Asperger's is damn hard. Potty training is never fun, I know. There is SO MUCH poop, why doesn't anyone ever get real about the poop? But here's the thing: even though Henry is very high functioning, it might take years to potty train him. Please, please stop telling me that "you've never seen someone wearing diapers in his dorm room!" because the reality is that there are autistic people who are not toilet trained at sixteen. There is so much neuro-typicality baggage in that one statement that I have heard countless times since Henry turned three, I can hardly unpack all of it. It's time to step back, and just let us work through this one. If your kid is potty trained, I'm so so so glad for you. Please, unless I am asking, don't tell me more.
I sometimes wonder if I am the only mama with an ASD child that feels like the weight of the world makes my connections with other parents far more difficult. I've come across some amazing blogs by mamas of ASD kids recently that have helped me cry, embrace some of the emotional weight I am carrying about, and realize that while isolated in some ways, I'm not alone. My world has shifted, but if you are a mama I love with a neuro-typical child, please understand that I love you to bits and pieces; I just have fewer pieces of myself to hand about right now. I still need you in my life, I still miss you. I'm just juggling so much with therapy and everything else that the thought of trying to explain all of this every time it comes up is, well, overwhelming.
And at the same time, I feel the weight you must when it comes to talking to me. How many times have I thought "How lucky I am to have two beautiful boys, who are doing so well, and who don't have a major medical issue that requires full time nursing care?" or "How lucky I am that my children can move on their own and feed themselves?" I shouldn't feel like my issues are the worst, because I know that they aren't. But, I am every parent. My children are the center of the universe. It's a mama law. It's OK. I understand. I do.
With love and care,
Virginia
And Open Letter to Parents of Neuro Typical Children, and Parents of Children without Major Medical Issues:
I understand. It's a mama law. Where one is standing feels like the clearest place in the world, even when it is difficult. One's own struggle feels like it is the most important, and one's own experience feels like it is somehow both linked to all others and somehow completely unique. I understand the reflex to compare children, to compare experience, to relate the experience that you are hearing from another parent to your own experience as a parent, or to a parent that you know, or the parent you saw on a TV show. I understand.
I beg you to stop.
As the parent of one child with Asperger's Syndrome and hyperlexia, and another who wears contacts and/or glasses due to surgeries in his first few weeks of life to remove congenital cataracts, I plead with you to stop. My struggle with their issues is my own, and I admit that I feel like it's the most important thing in the world. Their struggles (and my own) feel like they are connected to all other children's issues and also unique. Both of these things are true, but we are living a different life that you genuinely can't understand. It's OK. We are OK.
The thing is, it's been a long week. Potty training an almost four year old boy with Asperger's is damn hard. Potty training is never fun, I know. There is SO MUCH poop, why doesn't anyone ever get real about the poop? But here's the thing: even though Henry is very high functioning, it might take years to potty train him. Please, please stop telling me that "you've never seen someone wearing diapers in his dorm room!" because the reality is that there are autistic people who are not toilet trained at sixteen. There is so much neuro-typicality baggage in that one statement that I have heard countless times since Henry turned three, I can hardly unpack all of it. It's time to step back, and just let us work through this one. If your kid is potty trained, I'm so so so glad for you. Please, unless I am asking, don't tell me more.
I sometimes wonder if I am the only mama with an ASD child that feels like the weight of the world makes my connections with other parents far more difficult. I've come across some amazing blogs by mamas of ASD kids recently that have helped me cry, embrace some of the emotional weight I am carrying about, and realize that while isolated in some ways, I'm not alone. My world has shifted, but if you are a mama I love with a neuro-typical child, please understand that I love you to bits and pieces; I just have fewer pieces of myself to hand about right now. I still need you in my life, I still miss you. I'm just juggling so much with therapy and everything else that the thought of trying to explain all of this every time it comes up is, well, overwhelming.
And at the same time, I feel the weight you must when it comes to talking to me. How many times have I thought "How lucky I am to have two beautiful boys, who are doing so well, and who don't have a major medical issue that requires full time nursing care?" or "How lucky I am that my children can move on their own and feed themselves?" I shouldn't feel like my issues are the worst, because I know that they aren't. But, I am every parent. My children are the center of the universe. It's a mama law. It's OK. I understand. I do.
With love and care,
Virginia
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Still here. Well, back I guess.
So my last post was from the wee hours of May 17. Funny. Before that day was done, I had given birth to my second child. Toby was short and fat, and very sweet.
Life has kind of completely flopped around for us, too. I mean, we knew going into baby #2 that things would be different around here, but I know I had no idea how many things would change so dramatically so quickly.
First, Toby's had a rough start. He was born with cataracts in both eyes, so he was basically blind. Our pediatrician caught it right away, and as soon as we were discharged from the hospital the day after he was born we headed to a surgeon who does neonatal eye surgery for consultation. Before we even headed home, we were scheduled for surgery on his right eye one week later, and his left eye the next week. We had to act right away to prevent damage to his long-term ability to process visual information, which is apparently a huge risk when dealing with eye issues in tiny ones. It has been scary as hell, and exhausting to a level I have never experienced. Overnights in the kids ward at the hospital are absolutely hellish.
Now we are working out a schedule of eye drops that makes my head spin, and he is already in contact lenses so he can have some focus (since he now has no lenses in his eyes). We're exploring glasses in another month or so. And lots of appointments. But Toby can see, and how incredible is that?
Second, Henry suddenly seems so grown up to me. Literally the day after Toby was born and he came to see me I was taken aback by how BIG he is. After holding a tiny baby, a two year old just seems humungous. Changing his diaper is weird, and holding his hand is different. He's also made a seamless transition to a big boy bed, and spent a week with my parents while we dealt with surgeries and recovery. He's like a little man now. It's wonderful and amazing, but it makes me a little sad because he is my special baby, and he's just not my baby anymore. (The hormones make me more than a little sad about this.) He's starting school in a week, and seems so independent suddenly. How I love this boy, and how I need to figure out how to let go a little because all I want to do is cuddle him, and keep him from getting any bigger.
Being a mama is amazing, but it has felt so intense these past few weeks. It's like the experience so far has been practice, and now I'm the MOM with a real kid, and a sick baby, in serious situations that require me to be a grown up, be strong, be brave, not cry, and be a MOM. I have to be tough and fierce and fight for my kids, and I have to make really serious decisions about their lives. I know, I've been doing this for more than two years, but somehow these past three weeks have hit me like a ton of bricks. I'm the mom camping out in the hospital room with her baby. I'm the mom handing the baby over to the doctor for surgery, and I'm the mom the baby is crying for when he wakes up. I'm the mom who suddenly refuses to touch dairy because it makes her baby's insides do scary things. I'm the mom Henry might have missed (I think he was fine) on his first visit overnight away from home, and I'm going to be the mom taking him to school and helping with projects and classroom events and all such things.
Here I am. I'm the mom. Breathe.
Life has kind of completely flopped around for us, too. I mean, we knew going into baby #2 that things would be different around here, but I know I had no idea how many things would change so dramatically so quickly.
First, Toby's had a rough start. He was born with cataracts in both eyes, so he was basically blind. Our pediatrician caught it right away, and as soon as we were discharged from the hospital the day after he was born we headed to a surgeon who does neonatal eye surgery for consultation. Before we even headed home, we were scheduled for surgery on his right eye one week later, and his left eye the next week. We had to act right away to prevent damage to his long-term ability to process visual information, which is apparently a huge risk when dealing with eye issues in tiny ones. It has been scary as hell, and exhausting to a level I have never experienced. Overnights in the kids ward at the hospital are absolutely hellish.
Now we are working out a schedule of eye drops that makes my head spin, and he is already in contact lenses so he can have some focus (since he now has no lenses in his eyes). We're exploring glasses in another month or so. And lots of appointments. But Toby can see, and how incredible is that?
Second, Henry suddenly seems so grown up to me. Literally the day after Toby was born and he came to see me I was taken aback by how BIG he is. After holding a tiny baby, a two year old just seems humungous. Changing his diaper is weird, and holding his hand is different. He's also made a seamless transition to a big boy bed, and spent a week with my parents while we dealt with surgeries and recovery. He's like a little man now. It's wonderful and amazing, but it makes me a little sad because he is my special baby, and he's just not my baby anymore. (The hormones make me more than a little sad about this.) He's starting school in a week, and seems so independent suddenly. How I love this boy, and how I need to figure out how to let go a little because all I want to do is cuddle him, and keep him from getting any bigger.
Being a mama is amazing, but it has felt so intense these past few weeks. It's like the experience so far has been practice, and now I'm the MOM with a real kid, and a sick baby, in serious situations that require me to be a grown up, be strong, be brave, not cry, and be a MOM. I have to be tough and fierce and fight for my kids, and I have to make really serious decisions about their lives. I know, I've been doing this for more than two years, but somehow these past three weeks have hit me like a ton of bricks. I'm the mom camping out in the hospital room with her baby. I'm the mom handing the baby over to the doctor for surgery, and I'm the mom the baby is crying for when he wakes up. I'm the mom who suddenly refuses to touch dairy because it makes her baby's insides do scary things. I'm the mom Henry might have missed (I think he was fine) on his first visit overnight away from home, and I'm going to be the mom taking him to school and helping with projects and classroom events and all such things.
Here I am. I'm the mom. Breathe.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Mother's Day
It's Mother's Day. I get to sleep in while Bret and Henry make breakfast, so I won't worry about not being able to sleep right now.
I wish I could say that today was nothing but love and joy for me, because in many ways being a mama is all about love and joy. But it's far more complicated than that, particularly this year. There are several elements to explain, so I will do my best to unravel things, partly because working them out in some sort of order will, hopefully, help me think them through too.
First: Becoming a mama opens your heart to this deep, infinite well of love and emotion. To be able to love as purely and deeply as you love your babies is, in short, indescribable. I don't think I can even begin to think about putting words to it, because it is so intense, so personal, and so mutable. It's also so deep that you hardly notice it most of the time. But, it also opens you up to a range of emotions that make it hard not to be affected by the world in very personal ways, even when things have nothing to do with you. Everything becomes immediate if it can be at all related to your family, even in purely analogous ways. Your range for empathy increases infinitely, and, let me tell you, pregnancy hormones increase that range even further.
Second: I have never dealt with death in healthy ways. You could say I just don't deal with it, and that would be an understatement. I have been to one funeral in my life, in fourth grade (my great grandfather's). I just have not been able to bring myself to go. I have been fortunate not to lose many people I care deeply about, but have not been able to learn how to grieve in healthy ways.
Third: I miss my friend. Losing a mama friend just before Mother's Day makes it hard to find pure joy in being a mama on this day. It shouldn't, and I know I need to move on. And I will. But I miss her. I miss her particularly in this moment when I am days away from giving birth to my second child, and feeling excited and incredibly terrified. I miss her for selfish reasons (I wish I had her wisdom with me, and her assurance, and her love), and feel so much guilt about how poorly I have dealt with missing her.
I wish I could say that being a mama, today, was pure love and joy. I wish that I could say that about to become a mama again was nothing but exciting. But I'm scared. And sad. And also filled with love and joy so boundless I never knew it was possible.
I don't know if only mamas get to know emotion so deep that it explains the concept of infinity, but certainly it's a mama law that mamas get to know it.
I wish I could say that today was nothing but love and joy for me, because in many ways being a mama is all about love and joy. But it's far more complicated than that, particularly this year. There are several elements to explain, so I will do my best to unravel things, partly because working them out in some sort of order will, hopefully, help me think them through too.
First: Becoming a mama opens your heart to this deep, infinite well of love and emotion. To be able to love as purely and deeply as you love your babies is, in short, indescribable. I don't think I can even begin to think about putting words to it, because it is so intense, so personal, and so mutable. It's also so deep that you hardly notice it most of the time. But, it also opens you up to a range of emotions that make it hard not to be affected by the world in very personal ways, even when things have nothing to do with you. Everything becomes immediate if it can be at all related to your family, even in purely analogous ways. Your range for empathy increases infinitely, and, let me tell you, pregnancy hormones increase that range even further.
Second: I have never dealt with death in healthy ways. You could say I just don't deal with it, and that would be an understatement. I have been to one funeral in my life, in fourth grade (my great grandfather's). I just have not been able to bring myself to go. I have been fortunate not to lose many people I care deeply about, but have not been able to learn how to grieve in healthy ways.
Third: I miss my friend. Losing a mama friend just before Mother's Day makes it hard to find pure joy in being a mama on this day. It shouldn't, and I know I need to move on. And I will. But I miss her. I miss her particularly in this moment when I am days away from giving birth to my second child, and feeling excited and incredibly terrified. I miss her for selfish reasons (I wish I had her wisdom with me, and her assurance, and her love), and feel so much guilt about how poorly I have dealt with missing her.
I wish I could say that being a mama, today, was pure love and joy. I wish that I could say that about to become a mama again was nothing but exciting. But I'm scared. And sad. And also filled with love and joy so boundless I never knew it was possible.
I don't know if only mamas get to know emotion so deep that it explains the concept of infinity, but certainly it's a mama law that mamas get to know it.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Clarification, or something like that.
Since posting this a while back, I have had a lot of private comments, and I want to add a little something to clarify, as I think I adopted a bit of a tone that made it seem like I had the answer to some universal "should," which is oh so far from the case. That, and my own perspective on "should" is quite a bit different now that I have been hanging out with a rambunctious 2 year old all day for several weeks, while also getting progressively bigger and slower due to being super-pregnant.
#1: I think it got a bit buried, but what should (ha!) have been the most important thing I said in that whole tirade was that every parent has to make a million decisions every day, week, month, year - and all of those decisions are a balance between circumstances, what your kid wants, what your kid needs, what you want and need, and how it all fits into your life. It's friggin' messy as hell. You have to make decisions and compromises on everything all the time, from what to feed the kid for lunch, to what preschool the kid will attend (or not), to whether or not you should take the AAP's advice on everything (TV, vaccines, car seats - I have to write about all that another time), it doesn't end. The decisions you end up making are as varied as the intensity and impact the decisions will have. There is no universal "should" for ANY of these questions, no matter what the professionals, your mom, me, your nosy neighbor, other moms, or any other "they" might say. The "should" becomes the decision you make, and whether I think it might not be the best thing is so beyond irrelevant that really the only "should" there is that I should shut my mouth.
#2: Decisions about life constantly shift. I was a working mom from the time Henry was 10 weeks old until he was 2 years old. In the balance, this worked for us. When it stopped working - or when circumstances shifted so that we had other options and could think about whether it was working - then what I felt like I should be doing shifted. I have a ton of respect for moms who work outside the home - it is exhausting to split yourself! Trust me, taking care of a firecracker 2 year old all day while incubating a fetus is exhausting too, but I have to admit that even though I am finding Henry incredibly challenging right now, I'm not the same kind of tired all the time.
#3: It is absolutely, 100% none of my buisiness how fast anyone gets into their clothes after birth. (And it's absolutely, 100% none of anyone else's buisiness that my butt stayed in some maternity clothes continuously from pregnancy with Henry to now because they are comfy my bottom clings to extra weight like... I don't have a pithy thing to say, I just stay fat, OK.)
#4: Mamas that make it work are good mamas, no matter what. You have to work pretty hard to screw up a baby - they are just resilliant little boogers. So mamas, ignore me and my judgmental self, and so long as things are working for you, power to you.
#5: I'm not a perfect mama, even when I try. To start, there is no such thing as a perfect mama. And beyond that, even when I try to live by my internal "should" compass, I can't do everything. My to do list is obscene. I'm sitting here, writing this, next to a window that has Henry tongue prints that are months old on it while within eyeshot of crushed graham crackers in the carpet from yesterday. I'm watching Henry spin in circles in his crib on the monitor, hoping he will fall asleep for his nap, knowing there's not a whole lot I can do to make him go to sleep since my belly's too big to let me rock him, and feeling guilty that his playing in there right now means he'll spend three hours in his crib since he'll probably sleep for at least 2 hours. Since I've been home with him, he's learned the words "french fries" and "banana popsicle." He's eaten fewer vegetables (except for tomatoes - he's eaten loads of tomatoes). I have developed a growning sense of inadequacy as a parent, mainly because his behavior is challenging, and I'm not handling that terribly well. There are a lot of "should" moments I let pass because I am tired, frustrated, or overwhelmed. But in the end, it will be OK. We're making it work, in our own little way, and that is kind of the most important thing (or I hope it is!).
#1: I think it got a bit buried, but what should (ha!) have been the most important thing I said in that whole tirade was that every parent has to make a million decisions every day, week, month, year - and all of those decisions are a balance between circumstances, what your kid wants, what your kid needs, what you want and need, and how it all fits into your life. It's friggin' messy as hell. You have to make decisions and compromises on everything all the time, from what to feed the kid for lunch, to what preschool the kid will attend (or not), to whether or not you should take the AAP's advice on everything (TV, vaccines, car seats - I have to write about all that another time), it doesn't end. The decisions you end up making are as varied as the intensity and impact the decisions will have. There is no universal "should" for ANY of these questions, no matter what the professionals, your mom, me, your nosy neighbor, other moms, or any other "they" might say. The "should" becomes the decision you make, and whether I think it might not be the best thing is so beyond irrelevant that really the only "should" there is that I should shut my mouth.
#2: Decisions about life constantly shift. I was a working mom from the time Henry was 10 weeks old until he was 2 years old. In the balance, this worked for us. When it stopped working - or when circumstances shifted so that we had other options and could think about whether it was working - then what I felt like I should be doing shifted. I have a ton of respect for moms who work outside the home - it is exhausting to split yourself! Trust me, taking care of a firecracker 2 year old all day while incubating a fetus is exhausting too, but I have to admit that even though I am finding Henry incredibly challenging right now, I'm not the same kind of tired all the time.
#3: It is absolutely, 100% none of my buisiness how fast anyone gets into their clothes after birth. (And it's absolutely, 100% none of anyone else's buisiness that my butt stayed in some maternity clothes continuously from pregnancy with Henry to now because they are comfy my bottom clings to extra weight like... I don't have a pithy thing to say, I just stay fat, OK.)
#4: Mamas that make it work are good mamas, no matter what. You have to work pretty hard to screw up a baby - they are just resilliant little boogers. So mamas, ignore me and my judgmental self, and so long as things are working for you, power to you.
#5: I'm not a perfect mama, even when I try. To start, there is no such thing as a perfect mama. And beyond that, even when I try to live by my internal "should" compass, I can't do everything. My to do list is obscene. I'm sitting here, writing this, next to a window that has Henry tongue prints that are months old on it while within eyeshot of crushed graham crackers in the carpet from yesterday. I'm watching Henry spin in circles in his crib on the monitor, hoping he will fall asleep for his nap, knowing there's not a whole lot I can do to make him go to sleep since my belly's too big to let me rock him, and feeling guilty that his playing in there right now means he'll spend three hours in his crib since he'll probably sleep for at least 2 hours. Since I've been home with him, he's learned the words "french fries" and "banana popsicle." He's eaten fewer vegetables (except for tomatoes - he's eaten loads of tomatoes). I have developed a growning sense of inadequacy as a parent, mainly because his behavior is challenging, and I'm not handling that terribly well. There are a lot of "should" moments I let pass because I am tired, frustrated, or overwhelmed. But in the end, it will be OK. We're making it work, in our own little way, and that is kind of the most important thing (or I hope it is!).
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Mama Law: Multitasking is a myth.
Stop, you say! No, no. Mamas are the queens of multitasking! How else would we get done all that we do?
Ah, but how I wish it were so. We get all these things done by sheer force of will, and we expend great amounts of mental, physical, and emotional energy to make everything happen.
Studies (like the ones here, here, and here) have tried to demonstrate really, multitasking is a myth. Your brain (my brain, her brain, his brain...) can't actually focus on more than one thing at a time, and this means swiftly shifting concentration really slows you down in the long run. Now, while I tend to raise the eyebrow of disbelief when I hear that "they" say anything, I have to agree with them here. Only after bouts with denial, my own real world testing, and even a bit of therapy have I concluded that no, not even mamas can do it all, and really not all at once.
Ah, but how I wish it were so. We get all these things done by sheer force of will, and we expend great amounts of mental, physical, and emotional energy to make everything happen.
Studies (like the ones here, here, and here) have tried to demonstrate really, multitasking is a myth. Your brain (my brain, her brain, his brain...) can't actually focus on more than one thing at a time, and this means swiftly shifting concentration really slows you down in the long run. Now, while I tend to raise the eyebrow of disbelief when I hear that "they" say anything, I have to agree with them here. Only after bouts with denial, my own real world testing, and even a bit of therapy have I concluded that no, not even mamas can do it all, and really not all at once.
And then these darn commercials screw with my head. What!?!
Friday, February 6, 2009
Mama Law: "The question is not whether we can, but whether we should."
I'm in my last week of work as a prisoners' rights attorney, and I have been going crazy trying to get a case filed against the federal government before I go. I won't get to see it through, but I want to get it in place for my client and co-counsel, because it's an important issue, and the client really needs medical treatment.
In discussion, we've been trying to decide whether to bring a certain claim as part of the complaint. We've been debating the legal theory and the risks/rewards - we've been agonizing over it. The details of the claim aren't important here, but what a lawyer in my office said to me about the discussion really is: "The central question isn't really whether we can sue him individually, but really whether we should sue him individually." Exactly.
I can't get this out of my head.
This is kind of always the central question, outside of legal analysis anyway. So much is not about whether you can do something, but whether you should.
I'm leaving work because I don't get to spend enough time with my son. And I am too stressed out to truly enjoy my limited time with my husband. Could I keep working? Sure. I could. If there is anything that the past few weeks have shown me, it's that I can get tons done at work, make the house run, and make things run smoothly with my marriage. But is this break-neck pace what I really want? Do I really get to spend quality time with my family? Am I nurturing my relationship with my son and being the best parent I can be?
Recently, I heard a new mom talking about how she was in her "fat jeans" after six weeks, and was already back in her normal clothes eight weeks after her C-section. She's been going to the gym a lot. She's also "doing as much or more work on maternity leave as she does at the office." I hope all of that is working for her. Maybe it's my own six-months-pregnant hormones doing the emoting, but contemplating that made me unbelievably sad. It seems like yesterday that Henry was six weeks old, but actually, he turned two yesterday (happy birthday little love!). The time passes so fast, and it's pure magic. The thought of getting back into your life almost as if there is no change makes me wonder - should you do that? For me, it's clearly no. (Of course, I don't even know if I could do all that, but even for her - I wonder - she can, but should she?)
This notion of "should I" is central to my parenting style - how did I never know how to articulate it?! I am kind of a nut about making sure that we respect Henry's nap, food, and bed times. He can be a little flexible, but he thrives on routine. He has since he was six weeks old when he put himself on his own schedule. There are lots of things that we could do - events in the evening, lunches out on weekends, trips, etc. We could, but we shouldn't. It messes him up and makes him sad. I know other things work for other people, but I have to admit - I see babies being toted about at all hours, not allowed regular naps, and not allowed to thrive on being a kid, and I wonder - sure, that's fine, and parents can do whatever they want. But should they?
I sound judgmental - I am a little. But I also respect that people need to do what they feel, babies are different, and the should varies by family. It's balanced between what is possible for a family and what a family wants - life gets cobbled together where these converge.
I think it's kind of amazing that in these last weeks, these last moments of my current career, an offhand comment about case strategy would make me feel like I have a parenting center - a strategy that I feel good about (even though the reality is it's not always perfect or easy, but it feels good to feel that center). Oh, and we've decided we both can and should sue the guy, which in this case feels good too.
In discussion, we've been trying to decide whether to bring a certain claim as part of the complaint. We've been debating the legal theory and the risks/rewards - we've been agonizing over it. The details of the claim aren't important here, but what a lawyer in my office said to me about the discussion really is: "The central question isn't really whether we can sue him individually, but really whether we should sue him individually." Exactly.
I can't get this out of my head.
This is kind of always the central question, outside of legal analysis anyway. So much is not about whether you can do something, but whether you should.
I'm leaving work because I don't get to spend enough time with my son. And I am too stressed out to truly enjoy my limited time with my husband. Could I keep working? Sure. I could. If there is anything that the past few weeks have shown me, it's that I can get tons done at work, make the house run, and make things run smoothly with my marriage. But is this break-neck pace what I really want? Do I really get to spend quality time with my family? Am I nurturing my relationship with my son and being the best parent I can be?
Recently, I heard a new mom talking about how she was in her "fat jeans" after six weeks, and was already back in her normal clothes eight weeks after her C-section. She's been going to the gym a lot. She's also "doing as much or more work on maternity leave as she does at the office." I hope all of that is working for her. Maybe it's my own six-months-pregnant hormones doing the emoting, but contemplating that made me unbelievably sad. It seems like yesterday that Henry was six weeks old, but actually, he turned two yesterday (happy birthday little love!). The time passes so fast, and it's pure magic. The thought of getting back into your life almost as if there is no change makes me wonder - should you do that? For me, it's clearly no. (Of course, I don't even know if I could do all that, but even for her - I wonder - she can, but should she?)
This notion of "should I" is central to my parenting style - how did I never know how to articulate it?! I am kind of a nut about making sure that we respect Henry's nap, food, and bed times. He can be a little flexible, but he thrives on routine. He has since he was six weeks old when he put himself on his own schedule. There are lots of things that we could do - events in the evening, lunches out on weekends, trips, etc. We could, but we shouldn't. It messes him up and makes him sad. I know other things work for other people, but I have to admit - I see babies being toted about at all hours, not allowed regular naps, and not allowed to thrive on being a kid, and I wonder - sure, that's fine, and parents can do whatever they want. But should they?
I sound judgmental - I am a little. But I also respect that people need to do what they feel, babies are different, and the should varies by family. It's balanced between what is possible for a family and what a family wants - life gets cobbled together where these converge.
I think it's kind of amazing that in these last weeks, these last moments of my current career, an offhand comment about case strategy would make me feel like I have a parenting center - a strategy that I feel good about (even though the reality is it's not always perfect or easy, but it feels good to feel that center). Oh, and we've decided we both can and should sue the guy, which in this case feels good too.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Mama Law
There are certain things I have come to love about being a mama. There are things we can expect, things that seem axiomatic, things that soothe and comfort even in the midst of complete chaos. These are Mama Laws that only mamas get to know.
Even though perhaps the biggest Mama Law of all is that nothing is totally within your control anymore, I have found that I can expect and embrace that most of the time. I've learned to let things go, and can even find peace in a messy house, a hectic week, or a midnight waking.
But there are other, powerful Mama Laws. One Mama Law is that as mamas, even when we can't control things, we can love. We can support. We can nurture our babies. We are strong, and are there to protect them as fragile little creatures who are new to the world. We are fierce, even as we are the peaceful center of these beautiful children's lives. We protect, even when we are terrified or sad or confused. We may not have control, but we find strength that defies reason.
As with any law, there are exceptions. All human bodies are fragile, from the tiniest baby to the healthiest mama. Sometimes, completely outside of anyone's control, bodies break. Even mamas die.
Throughout my pregnancy with Henry and through his infancy, I was supported by a group of mamas in my neighborhood. Beautiful, strong mamas who were peaceful and reassuring. Mamas who shared in my joy, calmed my fears, and introduced me gently to the world of being a mama.
One of these beautiful, vibrant mamas died unexpectedly last week four days after giving birth to her second baby. There was no way to predict the pulmonary embolism, and no way to prevent or treat it. She was a strong mama, a powerful mama, but bodies are fragile and so the cruel exception to the Mama Law of Strength leaves all of us who deeply loved her trying to make sense of things.
When the words "Marylynn died" were uttered, my world shifted in ways I can't explain. For me, Mother's Day (two days later) was harder than I thought I could bear. I wanted to think of anything except being a mama. I slept. I blocked it out. I couldn't celebrate the joys of being a mama when the Fierce, Strong Mama Law was not enough to protect one of the strongest mamas I have ever known.
But then there is the Mama Law that there is even peace in chaos. It's in honor of Mama Marylynn that I will celebrate this Mama Law for now, and work to find peace and strength even in this chaos.
Note: It wasn't a pulmonary embolism after all, but rather what I believe is called "spontaneous arterial dissection."
Even though perhaps the biggest Mama Law of all is that nothing is totally within your control anymore, I have found that I can expect and embrace that most of the time. I've learned to let things go, and can even find peace in a messy house, a hectic week, or a midnight waking.
But there are other, powerful Mama Laws. One Mama Law is that as mamas, even when we can't control things, we can love. We can support. We can nurture our babies. We are strong, and are there to protect them as fragile little creatures who are new to the world. We are fierce, even as we are the peaceful center of these beautiful children's lives. We protect, even when we are terrified or sad or confused. We may not have control, but we find strength that defies reason.
As with any law, there are exceptions. All human bodies are fragile, from the tiniest baby to the healthiest mama. Sometimes, completely outside of anyone's control, bodies break. Even mamas die.
Throughout my pregnancy with Henry and through his infancy, I was supported by a group of mamas in my neighborhood. Beautiful, strong mamas who were peaceful and reassuring. Mamas who shared in my joy, calmed my fears, and introduced me gently to the world of being a mama.
One of these beautiful, vibrant mamas died unexpectedly last week four days after giving birth to her second baby. There was no way to predict the pulmonary embolism, and no way to prevent or treat it. She was a strong mama, a powerful mama, but bodies are fragile and so the cruel exception to the Mama Law of Strength leaves all of us who deeply loved her trying to make sense of things.
When the words "Marylynn died" were uttered, my world shifted in ways I can't explain. For me, Mother's Day (two days later) was harder than I thought I could bear. I wanted to think of anything except being a mama. I slept. I blocked it out. I couldn't celebrate the joys of being a mama when the Fierce, Strong Mama Law was not enough to protect one of the strongest mamas I have ever known.
But then there is the Mama Law that there is even peace in chaos. It's in honor of Mama Marylynn that I will celebrate this Mama Law for now, and work to find peace and strength even in this chaos.
Note: It wasn't a pulmonary embolism after all, but rather what I believe is called "spontaneous arterial dissection."
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