Expecting. A word that means to wait, often with anticipation and wonder. To expect a child. To expect a lot from life. It should be a good thing, right? If we didn't expect much from others, we would endure maltreatment from our relationships. If we didn't expect a lot from ourselves, we could live in a stagnant sea of conformity and longing. If we didn't expect much from our children, they may never reach or even attempt to reach their potential. But how do you know when you have reached it anyway? It's so arbitrary. Do you reach it on your deathbed? When you see your bank account spilling over? When you win the race, the contest? When does one reach their potential? This is so confusing.
But if we didn't have expectations from life, we would slog away, day after day, like Sysyphus, rolling that boulder up the hill, only to watch it roll down. And do it again and again. Actually, this may sound familiar to a worker or a stay-at-home mom or anybody who has a routine. Punch in, Punch out. Take the toys out, put them away. But we have expectations. That is what makes us different from Sysyphus. We can look forward to something exciting in the future, big or small, and that makes rolling the boulder tolerable. Saving for that vacation and looking forward to it for months. Or looking forward to blowing bubbles and little toes on the grass (or on those hard days, looking forward to nap time!) . Expecting adds some zest to the mundane.
Even if it rains everyday on your vacation or if you get the runs from that suspicious taco stand, you will always have those days when you were back at your office, dreaming of this vacation (which made your workday go faster and happier.) Expectations can bring you double the joy. First, when you imagined the joy and then when you actually experienced it.
When I was a young kid, navigating the battlefield of 5th grade, I lived for the future, or rather, my (very detailed) expectation of the future. My expectation was to be a ridiculously successful divorce lawyer, well-traveled with a European husband, and ample-bossomed, a DD cup at least. These expectations helped me endure the mean girls and my insecurities. I knew the future would ROCK. It just had to.
And it did. It has. No, I am not a lawyer, haven't travelled much in the last decade (and I married a Mexican), and my bosom, well, that is just a sad state of affairs after nursing two babies. (My 10-year-old self would be most disappointed in this outcome!) Yet my life has turned out beautifully. Different and beautiful. Those expectations served a great purpose in the past.
But just like everything in life, too many expectations are a bad thing. When you expect too much from people, you will constantly be disappointed. When you expect to get everything you want (like my toddler), you become an entitled brat and should only be tolerated if you are under the age of 3, or 4 tops! And perhaps the most toxic of all is expecting too much from yourself. You will set the bar so high that you'll be toppling off into despair and depression. Unable to make yourself happy with your unrealistic expectations. You must be the perfect and patient mother, a loving partner, an engaging friend, a smart and sassy woman, a goofy mama, an explorer, a domestic pro, a great writer, a budding entrepreneur, a gourmet cook...etc, etc. The list goes on and on. But who can be all this and why? What is the point - Happiness? Accomplishment? What if we are already happy? Should we stop expecting? Who knows? I don't.
Perhaps that wise guy, Socrates, was onto something though. Maybe: "To be is to do." Just do. Don't over think it. Do what brings joy and gives joy. And change it up when there is no longer joy. Of course, this is an over-simplification of life. But maybe that is what I need. To simplify. To breathe and remember that it is quite simple after all. I make it (life) complicated. Maybe, I'm already good enough? And so are you.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Love (and life) is in the details
It is easy to get caught up in the day-to-day minutiae of our busy lives. Trivial details like cooking dinners, carpooling, packing lunches along with the huge responsibilities of working and raising children often leave little or no room for thinking. Let alone time for some good ol' introspection. Am I doing alright? Where is my life going? What is the meaning of life? You know, those deep philosophical questions you would ponder in college between keg stands and quizzes. Now, as bona fide adults, we busily shuffle from one task to the next, checking off our to-do lists. Then we lie in bed and think of all that hasn't been accomplished, exhausted and depleted, we doze off to sleep for a few hours (hopefully - if there isn't a sleep-stealing baby in the mix) and wake up to do it all over again.
This is the pace of modern parenthood. We move fast, sprinting through life, practically. Yet this isn't to say we don't have beautiful, tender moments in between or even while doing these tasks. Recently, P and I found ourselves on the floor (NO - not that kind of tender moment!) of the laundry room, playing catch with the girls (it was really more like a game of keep-away from M, who likes to steal the ball and run off with a mischievous laugh). We were in the middle of cleaning up after dinner and that is what we did instead - played, laughed, made a memory. Who knows what we ate or how many tears were shed (we have 2 girls who are quite dramatic!) or any other detail of that day but our impromptu game remains in my memory.
Spontaneous dance parties have become commonplace over at our place. We blast music (current favorites of the girls are anything by Swedish House Mafia and of course, Taylor Swift's Shake it Off), LO turns off the lights and M spins around until she dizzily collapses. And we dance. No chores - no timeouts - no talking. Just dancing and laughing. The rest of this day is as gone as that pot of spaghetti I made (why do kids love spaghetti so much???) yet I can still hear LO singing her (way-off) version of the lyrics and I can picture M doing her wobbly jumps in her bunny footed pjs. That remains.
Memories are all we really take away from our days. So, when I do have time for some reflection, I tend to tell myself (and write on my to-do list) to make more memories, to finally really take the kids to that Dinosaur Park across town, to listen more, to be more present, to relax more, etc. All these measures are great and would be so amazing to accomplish. They are definitely something to aspire to. Can you imagine? NO yelling, NO bad moods, NO stress, endless reserves of patience, and a zeal for adventure! But that is not reality. Reality is much more, well... poetic and beautiful and complicated. Reality makes the sweet moments well-earned. Because just when you think you ruined the whole day for being a cranky ass and that you really sucked and you feel your hands and back ache from cleaning up messes, cooking, fixing the 250th snack of the day (kids eat A LOT, yo!), wiping butts and noses; but then you had a dance party and that is all that remains! Your kids laughed, you kissed your equally-tired partner, and you all were just fine.
Maybe the trick is to remember that our memories are quite forgiving. We rarely remember the inconsequential things, the small hiccups in life. We remember the REALLY GOOD and the REALLY BAD. So maybe, instead of aiming for perfection all the time, we are better off sprinkling our days with REALLY GOOD stuff and limit the REALLY BAD when possible. Chances are that we are already doing this or at the very least trying to. So we can scratch "Make Memories" off the list. Because we are making memories, really good ones, while washing dishes, during carpool, in the bathtub.
And perhaps, we shouldn't feel so bad about our busy lives. It's ok to work hard, play hard, engage in fulfilling activities, tend to our homes. We are creating a sturdy, colorful canvas for our children to paint their childhoods on. We are building careers that support our families and will provide us with a comfortable retirement. We are providing a safe, warm environment to house the dreams and potential of our children. It's not only ok to be busy, we should be thankful to be busy. Maybe we should forget about feeling guilty and stop worrying about being too busy.
Because maybe we are doing alright.
This is the pace of modern parenthood. We move fast, sprinting through life, practically. Yet this isn't to say we don't have beautiful, tender moments in between or even while doing these tasks. Recently, P and I found ourselves on the floor (NO - not that kind of tender moment!) of the laundry room, playing catch with the girls (it was really more like a game of keep-away from M, who likes to steal the ball and run off with a mischievous laugh). We were in the middle of cleaning up after dinner and that is what we did instead - played, laughed, made a memory. Who knows what we ate or how many tears were shed (we have 2 girls who are quite dramatic!) or any other detail of that day but our impromptu game remains in my memory.
Spontaneous dance parties have become commonplace over at our place. We blast music (current favorites of the girls are anything by Swedish House Mafia and of course, Taylor Swift's Shake it Off), LO turns off the lights and M spins around until she dizzily collapses. And we dance. No chores - no timeouts - no talking. Just dancing and laughing. The rest of this day is as gone as that pot of spaghetti I made (why do kids love spaghetti so much???) yet I can still hear LO singing her (way-off) version of the lyrics and I can picture M doing her wobbly jumps in her bunny footed pjs. That remains.
Memories are all we really take away from our days. So, when I do have time for some reflection, I tend to tell myself (and write on my to-do list) to make more memories, to finally really take the kids to that Dinosaur Park across town, to listen more, to be more present, to relax more, etc. All these measures are great and would be so amazing to accomplish. They are definitely something to aspire to. Can you imagine? NO yelling, NO bad moods, NO stress, endless reserves of patience, and a zeal for adventure! But that is not reality. Reality is much more, well... poetic and beautiful and complicated. Reality makes the sweet moments well-earned. Because just when you think you ruined the whole day for being a cranky ass and that you really sucked and you feel your hands and back ache from cleaning up messes, cooking, fixing the 250th snack of the day (kids eat A LOT, yo!), wiping butts and noses; but then you had a dance party and that is all that remains! Your kids laughed, you kissed your equally-tired partner, and you all were just fine.
Maybe the trick is to remember that our memories are quite forgiving. We rarely remember the inconsequential things, the small hiccups in life. We remember the REALLY GOOD and the REALLY BAD. So maybe, instead of aiming for perfection all the time, we are better off sprinkling our days with REALLY GOOD stuff and limit the REALLY BAD when possible. Chances are that we are already doing this or at the very least trying to. So we can scratch "Make Memories" off the list. Because we are making memories, really good ones, while washing dishes, during carpool, in the bathtub.
And perhaps, we shouldn't feel so bad about our busy lives. It's ok to work hard, play hard, engage in fulfilling activities, tend to our homes. We are creating a sturdy, colorful canvas for our children to paint their childhoods on. We are building careers that support our families and will provide us with a comfortable retirement. We are providing a safe, warm environment to house the dreams and potential of our children. It's not only ok to be busy, we should be thankful to be busy. Maybe we should forget about feeling guilty and stop worrying about being too busy.
Because maybe we are doing alright.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
When you have young kids...
Peeling happy-face stickers off of your body becomes part of your shower routine.
You have that shower routine down to 3 minutes flat and that includes washing your hair and a shave of the essential areas. Add a minute for a thorough shave or exfoliation.
You always carry lollipops, bandaids and Advil in case of an emergency.
You can smell poop like a basset hound on a hunt.
You can change the grossest, messiest diaper and immediately (after washing hands!) devour a croissant.
You are a roller coaster of emotions. One minute, you feel the bliss of heaven when your toddler runs to give you a wet kiss. While the very next minute, you curse the gods because your other kid decided it was a great idea to hang from the curtains like Tarzan. (She and the rod landed on the floor.)
You buy diapers, cereal, milk, and wine in bulk.
Getting through dinner without a spilled cup or a thrown plate is impossible.
You embrace all establishments with a drive-thru. The bank, pharmacy, coffee shop, Whataburger. You dream of a drive-thru grocery store, post office, and liquor store.
Your hair is overgrown, your nails are too short, and your eyebrows are never camera-ready.
The soundtrack of your life is the music from Frozen. Sigh.
And you are out late, you have a mental clock that counts down the hours until the little gremlins' wakeup time. Then you may or may not panic and ditch your friends mid-drink.
You steer clear of all other kids on the rare occasion that you don't have your own with you. You seek out peace and quiet like a Tibetan monk.
And your unlucky fate places a crying infant next to you on the plane, you sympathize immediately and offer your breast. Just kidding - No Salma Hayeks here! But you do offer to hold the baby while poor mom cleans spit-up out of her hair. You've been there .
You adore every second of it. Even if you don't ADORE every second, ya know? You adore it because the clock is ticking and your babies are crawling, then walking, then sprinting to get away from you to become individuals and not the extentions of you that they are now. When they are little, they are literally extensions of your body. Right now as I type, one has her cute toes on my hip and the other is hanging off my neck while they watch "Peppa Pig."
See, someday, too soon, I will join the land of the normal again. That place where you don't jump for joy when you had a tantrum-free outing. That place where your personal space is respected. That place where you aren't cleaning poop off the floor.
I like where I am now... Crazytown, USA or Sweetness, USA (Depends on the minute.)
You have that shower routine down to 3 minutes flat and that includes washing your hair and a shave of the essential areas. Add a minute for a thorough shave or exfoliation.
You always carry lollipops, bandaids and Advil in case of an emergency.
You can smell poop like a basset hound on a hunt.
You can change the grossest, messiest diaper and immediately (after washing hands!) devour a croissant.
You are a roller coaster of emotions. One minute, you feel the bliss of heaven when your toddler runs to give you a wet kiss. While the very next minute, you curse the gods because your other kid decided it was a great idea to hang from the curtains like Tarzan. (She and the rod landed on the floor.)
You buy diapers, cereal, milk, and wine in bulk.
Getting through dinner without a spilled cup or a thrown plate is impossible.
You embrace all establishments with a drive-thru. The bank, pharmacy, coffee shop, Whataburger. You dream of a drive-thru grocery store, post office, and liquor store.
Your hair is overgrown, your nails are too short, and your eyebrows are never camera-ready.
The soundtrack of your life is the music from Frozen. Sigh.
And you are out late, you have a mental clock that counts down the hours until the little gremlins' wakeup time. Then you may or may not panic and ditch your friends mid-drink.
You steer clear of all other kids on the rare occasion that you don't have your own with you. You seek out peace and quiet like a Tibetan monk.
And your unlucky fate places a crying infant next to you on the plane, you sympathize immediately and offer your breast. Just kidding - No Salma Hayeks here! But you do offer to hold the baby while poor mom cleans spit-up out of her hair. You've been there .
You adore every second of it. Even if you don't ADORE every second, ya know? You adore it because the clock is ticking and your babies are crawling, then walking, then sprinting to get away from you to become individuals and not the extentions of you that they are now. When they are little, they are literally extensions of your body. Right now as I type, one has her cute toes on my hip and the other is hanging off my neck while they watch "Peppa Pig."
See, someday, too soon, I will join the land of the normal again. That place where you don't jump for joy when you had a tantrum-free outing. That place where your personal space is respected. That place where you aren't cleaning poop off the floor.
I like where I am now... Crazytown, USA or Sweetness, USA (Depends on the minute.)
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Yay or Nay
These are thoughts of a crazy person. In other words, a mother. This is a game we play daily:
WORTH IT or NAH, NOT WORTH IT.
As I notice that ML is happily engaged taking apart a Kleenex, I ask myself if it is worth the $1.99 and the ensuing mess of giving her the entire box to "play" with. It would take her at least 20 minutes to get through it. I could return a couple of phone calls, empty the dishwasher, water my barely-living plants, and peel some vegetables. Verdict: WORTH IT. (I feel a slight ting of guilt at the wastefulness but feel better that my dying plant might live another day.)
In the rearview mirror, I see ML is dozing off just a few blocks away from home. If she even shuts her eyes for 2 minutes, I know she will trick her body into thinking she has had a full nap. And today, I need a break from her crazy toddler shenanigans (e.g., finding a pen and going to town on herself, standing on our glass-top coffee table, throwing my cell phone down the stairs, screeching like a banshee). Back to my dilemma, how do I keep her awake? Should I give her my water bottle that she uses more as a shower head than a drinking device? Yes - the cold water will jolt her awake and could also serve as a mini-bath. Win-win. The car seat will dry out eventually. Verdict: WORTH IT.
Should I pile the kids in the car, subject myself to hear "Let it Go" for a gazillionth time and drive 20 minutes to the gym? Only to get there and spend 15 minutes acclimating the baby to the childcare room, then make a break for it, start my workout and get pulled off the treadmill by my screaming baby.
Verdict: NOT WORTH IT (Instead I will do some planks at home and hope that the extra weight of a toddler on my back while doing them gives me chiseled abs.)
LO wants to "help" fold laundry. I have 4 loads to complete while baby naps or else she will destroy my piles, so time is of the essence. If I let LO help she will be so pleased with herself for being helpful. And she may practice some sort of motor skill (or at the very least, a life skill). Plus, she will definitely be doing laundry someday, she might as well start learning. I can't wait to outsource this chore ASAP. I hate laundry. Verdict: WORTH IT (Even though the clothes will be more crumpled than before they went into the washer.)
To drink or not drink? That is the real question. I can doze off while watching Golden Girls reruns or I can get dressed up and grab cocktails with my girlfriends. Duh. Verdict: WORTH IT always. (Unless you overdo it, in which case you will pay dearly. A hangover with little ones poking your eyes and ears to wake up has to be one of Dante's Inferno circles.)
And just this minute, I am weighing whether it is worth writing these remarkable observations that maybe two people will read. One little monster busies herself with emptying the contents of my junk drawer and the other one is who-knows-where (never a good sign when they are quiet). So, the verdict is still out on this one.
See, motherhood is basically calling shots. Making judgement calls - big and small. Like, which kid should you save first from the pooped bathtub? The assailant or the victim? Day in and day out, we make life-altering decisions such as these. Riveting stuff, people.
WORTH IT or NAH, NOT WORTH IT.
As I notice that ML is happily engaged taking apart a Kleenex, I ask myself if it is worth the $1.99 and the ensuing mess of giving her the entire box to "play" with. It would take her at least 20 minutes to get through it. I could return a couple of phone calls, empty the dishwasher, water my barely-living plants, and peel some vegetables. Verdict: WORTH IT. (I feel a slight ting of guilt at the wastefulness but feel better that my dying plant might live another day.)
In the rearview mirror, I see ML is dozing off just a few blocks away from home. If she even shuts her eyes for 2 minutes, I know she will trick her body into thinking she has had a full nap. And today, I need a break from her crazy toddler shenanigans (e.g., finding a pen and going to town on herself, standing on our glass-top coffee table, throwing my cell phone down the stairs, screeching like a banshee). Back to my dilemma, how do I keep her awake? Should I give her my water bottle that she uses more as a shower head than a drinking device? Yes - the cold water will jolt her awake and could also serve as a mini-bath. Win-win. The car seat will dry out eventually. Verdict: WORTH IT.
Should I pile the kids in the car, subject myself to hear "Let it Go" for a gazillionth time and drive 20 minutes to the gym? Only to get there and spend 15 minutes acclimating the baby to the childcare room, then make a break for it, start my workout and get pulled off the treadmill by my screaming baby.
Verdict: NOT WORTH IT (Instead I will do some planks at home and hope that the extra weight of a toddler on my back while doing them gives me chiseled abs.)
LO wants to "help" fold laundry. I have 4 loads to complete while baby naps or else she will destroy my piles, so time is of the essence. If I let LO help she will be so pleased with herself for being helpful. And she may practice some sort of motor skill (or at the very least, a life skill). Plus, she will definitely be doing laundry someday, she might as well start learning. I can't wait to outsource this chore ASAP. I hate laundry. Verdict: WORTH IT (Even though the clothes will be more crumpled than before they went into the washer.)
To drink or not drink? That is the real question. I can doze off while watching Golden Girls reruns or I can get dressed up and grab cocktails with my girlfriends. Duh. Verdict: WORTH IT always. (Unless you overdo it, in which case you will pay dearly. A hangover with little ones poking your eyes and ears to wake up has to be one of Dante's Inferno circles.)
And just this minute, I am weighing whether it is worth writing these remarkable observations that maybe two people will read. One little monster busies herself with emptying the contents of my junk drawer and the other one is who-knows-where (never a good sign when they are quiet). So, the verdict is still out on this one.
See, motherhood is basically calling shots. Making judgement calls - big and small. Like, which kid should you save first from the pooped bathtub? The assailant or the victim? Day in and day out, we make life-altering decisions such as these. Riveting stuff, people.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Imbalance
When you are a stay-at-home mom, you are mom 24/7. You don't go off to some badass job to boss people around and change the world. Perhaps during these years out of the workforce I have idealized the working thing a tad. Apparently, when I go back to work, I would love to be some powerful diplomat who saves babies and brings order to unstable countries. (If you hear of any openings like that, let me know. I'll email my resume' stat.) But back to my current job. The title pretty much sums it up: you stay home. And you tend to everyday household duties and all those living in the home. I do it and like it and that is that. And the husband is usually blown away by my aptitude for all things domestic (excluding my knack for losing his favorite socks.) So it's not that I don't feel appreciated. It's just that I don't wear other hats. I do not moonlight as a crooner at a Jazz club. I do not teach yoga. I'm not even part of a club (does my AAA membership count?) No Book Club, Winos Club, nada. Shoot - lately I can't even get a workout in. The baby is going through some serious separation anxiety. I was on the treadmill, barely breaking a sweat when the lady came to tell to please come collect my child. She had been crying the entire 10 minutes she was in the gym childcare center. A severe imbalance exists in my life right now, as I assume does for many stay-at-home-moms. And for the most part, I'm at peace with it because I know it is temporary. A major advantage of being on Baby #2 is that I am mega aware at how rapid it all moves along. In the time it takes to grow out my new bangs, ML will be past this stage. She will happily wave bye to me and I will be enjoying a 90 minute Boot Camp (who am I kidding? I'll be lucky to make it through the 30 minute Sit & Fit Senior class. Baby steps, for both ML and me!) The point is that despite all this imbalance, I know I will slowly find more balance. Babies grow and get more independent. And it happens quickly folks.
So I'm not complaining. I love my life and my role right now. It has been a deliberate, thought-out choice. It presents its challenges and its triumphs like any other job. I feel the value in what I do and the best part is that I love it. I love spending most of my time with these two Pumpkin Pies. I love that I can stay in my pajamas on snow days, drink hot chocolate, play games and still feel like I had a productive day (unless you work at Google, where else could you get away with this? ). And the fleeting nature of this stage makes me love it even more. When you are raising young children, you live in awe of time. You cannot believe how days that go by so slowly and routinely can quickly add up to months and then whole years! I know that someday in the not-so-far future, I will be juggling school drop-offs, career, and extracurriculars. I will get to put on other hats. Right now, my mom hat is sitting nicely atop my head and I love my signature look. I know someday soon I will have other hats to hang on the coat rack.
In the meantime, friends help restore some balance. I didn't need to join a club or become a Zumba instructor. It turns out that I just needed a long weekend with my best friend.
This is the kind of friend you can call and spew your rawest feelings to without fear of judgement or reproach. The kind of friend that you don't have to fake anything with. You are you and she is..., well, she - if that makes sense? You have known one another for so long and been through so many stages that your friendship is timeless. Being around her makes you feel 16 again, taking road trips together and navigating new boyfriends, new freedom and new hairdos (for the record: 5 ponytails coming out of 1 head is not stylish.) And although you have trekked many miles since that stage in your lives, somehow when you come back together again, you feel the same. You are the same person but now you take care of little people. You are still that girl with wild dreams and wild hair. And she gets that and sees that girl. She doesn't just see the crazed mom in leggings with avocado and berries smeared on her t-shirt. She doesn't just see you as a mother and wife. She sees you as the whole person that you are. The whole person that is so divided up right now, who often neglects herself for the sake of these little people. And then you begin to see that whole person again too. She appreciates your cooking as much as she appreciates your sense of humor and ability to down a cocktail. She loves the new you and the old you. She loves you. All of you. You share secret dance moves and countless inside jokes. She is that friend who accepts you and you accept her completely. Your differences have been reconciled long ago. You know her weaknesses, she knows yours and you never use them against each other. It's been a hard-earned friendship. It was fought for, year after year, and now it's in cruise control. I am her child's Godmother and now she is my child's Godmother. We got past the drama of the teen years and the insecurities of our 20's. And now our friendship is like magic.
And we had a magical evening out on the town. Just two old friends, drinking cocktails and talking about everything - from motherhood, to aging parents, to our dream of traveling again someday. But she doesn't know that that night, I did travel. I traveled back in time and picked up a little souvenir - a little piece of me that I had forgotten about. And I brought it back with me. Friendships are powerful. They have time-traveling powers and soul-soothing abilities.
Magic, I tell you.
So I'm not complaining. I love my life and my role right now. It has been a deliberate, thought-out choice. It presents its challenges and its triumphs like any other job. I feel the value in what I do and the best part is that I love it. I love spending most of my time with these two Pumpkin Pies. I love that I can stay in my pajamas on snow days, drink hot chocolate, play games and still feel like I had a productive day (unless you work at Google, where else could you get away with this? ). And the fleeting nature of this stage makes me love it even more. When you are raising young children, you live in awe of time. You cannot believe how days that go by so slowly and routinely can quickly add up to months and then whole years! I know that someday in the not-so-far future, I will be juggling school drop-offs, career, and extracurriculars. I will get to put on other hats. Right now, my mom hat is sitting nicely atop my head and I love my signature look. I know someday soon I will have other hats to hang on the coat rack.
In the meantime, friends help restore some balance. I didn't need to join a club or become a Zumba instructor. It turns out that I just needed a long weekend with my best friend.
This is the kind of friend you can call and spew your rawest feelings to without fear of judgement or reproach. The kind of friend that you don't have to fake anything with. You are you and she is..., well, she - if that makes sense? You have known one another for so long and been through so many stages that your friendship is timeless. Being around her makes you feel 16 again, taking road trips together and navigating new boyfriends, new freedom and new hairdos (for the record: 5 ponytails coming out of 1 head is not stylish.) And although you have trekked many miles since that stage in your lives, somehow when you come back together again, you feel the same. You are the same person but now you take care of little people. You are still that girl with wild dreams and wild hair. And she gets that and sees that girl. She doesn't just see the crazed mom in leggings with avocado and berries smeared on her t-shirt. She doesn't just see you as a mother and wife. She sees you as the whole person that you are. The whole person that is so divided up right now, who often neglects herself for the sake of these little people. And then you begin to see that whole person again too. She appreciates your cooking as much as she appreciates your sense of humor and ability to down a cocktail. She loves the new you and the old you. She loves you. All of you. You share secret dance moves and countless inside jokes. She is that friend who accepts you and you accept her completely. Your differences have been reconciled long ago. You know her weaknesses, she knows yours and you never use them against each other. It's been a hard-earned friendship. It was fought for, year after year, and now it's in cruise control. I am her child's Godmother and now she is my child's Godmother. We got past the drama of the teen years and the insecurities of our 20's. And now our friendship is like magic.
And we had a magical evening out on the town. Just two old friends, drinking cocktails and talking about everything - from motherhood, to aging parents, to our dream of traveling again someday. But she doesn't know that that night, I did travel. I traveled back in time and picked up a little souvenir - a little piece of me that I had forgotten about. And I brought it back with me. Friendships are powerful. They have time-traveling powers and soul-soothing abilities.
Magic, I tell you.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Sorry
Dear ML,
I am writing my most sincere apology to you today just days before your first birthday. You have been duped. I told you when you were in my belly that I would pay as much attention to you as I had to
your sister. In short, I promised to be the same kind of mother I was to your older sis LO. But I have not made good on that promise. I am a radically different kind of mother and I hope you forgive me.
You are shafted. No way around it. And I'm not going to sugarcoat it. But there are advantages to being the second-born:
You get free and constant entertainment that your older sibling provides. You watch LO as she pliés across the floor in her tutu and tiara for hours. You're the best audience member during yet another performance of her "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" routine. You are rarely bored because of her shenanigans. You are especially amused during LO's timeouts and frequent scoldings. You already seem to take some pleasure when big sis gets in trouble. Maybe you still remember the time she smooshed your finger in the door.
You have another watchful eye on you at all times. (Even when you don't want it - but we are talking about the advantages here!) LO has taken several small objects out of your grip that could have proved fatal (actually I'm sure that tiny pebble would have passed right through you, you are a champ at digestion.) She lets me know when you are going near the toilet (your favorite object in the house), nearing the stairs (your favorite pastime), or when you have your foot inside the fireplace. Overall, she is an asset in keeping you safe.
You have a bath buddy. I'm not sure why I find this one so exciting but I do. You two in the bath are the cutest. I give you matching funny hairdos and we all laugh. You try to drink the water and LO tells you no. You get mad and splash water at her. We laugh some more. You try to escape the tub and we wrangle you back in. It's a fun time for all. What if you were in there solo? Not nearly as much fun.
You have indulged in a lot more foods than sister ever did at this age. And by foods, I mean treats. You have eaten cookies, chips, chicken nuggets (gasp!) and pretty much anything else sister eats. I just feel bad that somebody else is eating this stuff in front of you. So I give you nibbles. The other day, sister gave you some of her marshmallows. Did sis ever get to eat marshmallows at 11 months? No way. Score for you!
You have a more relaxed mama. I don't go around wiping everything down for you. I don't freak when you eat a crusty Cheerio off the floor. I know what to do when you are sick. I know what do when you are constipated (Yep - I got right-up-in-there and helped. Gross, I know. But didn't you feel better?) These are all things I have learned from mothering your sister. She was the guinea pig. You get to reap the benefits of a more experienced mother.
So what do you think? It's not so bad, right? There are advantages and disadvantages to being the second. That is life, actually. Good and bad aspects can be applied to most scenarios. And what I said earlier is true. You are our wise little "Milli" as we've nicknamed you. You are a keen observer most of the time but your voice is heard. You are strong and sure of yourself. You ask for what you need. So I am sure your wisdom will guide you in seeing the great aspects of being the second. And that wisdom will most surely lead you to know the absolute truth. The clear, undisputed truth that you are loved and treasured in the same way your older sister is. The truth in knowing you occupy an equally important spot in our family. And in our hearts.
I love you,
Your Mama
I am writing my most sincere apology to you today just days before your first birthday. You have been duped. I told you when you were in my belly that I would pay as much attention to you as I had to
your sister. In short, I promised to be the same kind of mother I was to your older sis LO. But I have not made good on that promise. I am a radically different kind of mother and I hope you forgive me.
There is no use trying to hide it so I am coming clean early in the game. You will see the pictures from your sister's first birthday and be upset. Yes, we went all out. Yes, that was a hand-painted Halloween backdrop your dad made for guests to take pictures in front of. Yes, we were all dressed up in costumes. And yes, what you know as your "non-crafty" mom did make those cat-shaped carved pumpkin decorations. Please do not be jealous. LO was teething and cranky throughout most of the party. She did not enjoy herself that much.
Yes, that blinged-out baby book that documents LO's first everythings looks amazing. Where is yours, you ask? I'm working on it. I promise that I have input your important milestones into my Iphone calendar. I will soon fill in your baby book all at once. How practical! Do I get points for that time-saving trick? Didn't think so. But what if I use that extra time to stand behind you as you scale the stairs for the 189th time today and give you endless tangerines??
Yes, we have so many videos of your sis that make "Gone With The Wind" look like a teaser. P practically had the camcorder attached to his eye. And the camera - we have enough pictures of LO to tape around the entire Earth. We have less of you. But they are gems. You are a natural. And that's not fluff. You have this serious look on your face in most that really capture your wisdom (or that may just be anger at being the second-born, never thought about that before!). But, really, your hair stood straight up the first 6 months of your life and the pictures are a hoot. Just see the pictures for yourself. You're a doll! (As for videos, don't you think pictures are a more timeless art form?)
You are shafted. No way around it. And I'm not going to sugarcoat it. But there are advantages to being the second-born:
You get free and constant entertainment that your older sibling provides. You watch LO as she pliés across the floor in her tutu and tiara for hours. You're the best audience member during yet another performance of her "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" routine. You are rarely bored because of her shenanigans. You are especially amused during LO's timeouts and frequent scoldings. You already seem to take some pleasure when big sis gets in trouble. Maybe you still remember the time she smooshed your finger in the door.
You have another watchful eye on you at all times. (Even when you don't want it - but we are talking about the advantages here!) LO has taken several small objects out of your grip that could have proved fatal (actually I'm sure that tiny pebble would have passed right through you, you are a champ at digestion.) She lets me know when you are going near the toilet (your favorite object in the house), nearing the stairs (your favorite pastime), or when you have your foot inside the fireplace. Overall, she is an asset in keeping you safe.
You have a bath buddy. I'm not sure why I find this one so exciting but I do. You two in the bath are the cutest. I give you matching funny hairdos and we all laugh. You try to drink the water and LO tells you no. You get mad and splash water at her. We laugh some more. You try to escape the tub and we wrangle you back in. It's a fun time for all. What if you were in there solo? Not nearly as much fun.
You have indulged in a lot more foods than sister ever did at this age. And by foods, I mean treats. You have eaten cookies, chips, chicken nuggets (gasp!) and pretty much anything else sister eats. I just feel bad that somebody else is eating this stuff in front of you. So I give you nibbles. The other day, sister gave you some of her marshmallows. Did sis ever get to eat marshmallows at 11 months? No way. Score for you!
You have a more relaxed mama. I don't go around wiping everything down for you. I don't freak when you eat a crusty Cheerio off the floor. I know what to do when you are sick. I know what do when you are constipated (Yep - I got right-up-in-there and helped. Gross, I know. But didn't you feel better?) These are all things I have learned from mothering your sister. She was the guinea pig. You get to reap the benefits of a more experienced mother.
So what do you think? It's not so bad, right? There are advantages and disadvantages to being the second. That is life, actually. Good and bad aspects can be applied to most scenarios. And what I said earlier is true. You are our wise little "Milli" as we've nicknamed you. You are a keen observer most of the time but your voice is heard. You are strong and sure of yourself. You ask for what you need. So I am sure your wisdom will guide you in seeing the great aspects of being the second. And that wisdom will most surely lead you to know the absolute truth. The clear, undisputed truth that you are loved and treasured in the same way your older sister is. The truth in knowing you occupy an equally important spot in our family. And in our hearts.
I love you,
Your Mama
Monday, December 9, 2013
All
Since I was last here, LO turned 4 years old and ML is almost 11 months. ML has been out of the womb longer than she was in it. It really is not a long time. I have canned goods that have been around longer (those anchovies that I swore I would use to add "umami" to my dishes are dusty in the dark corner of the pantry). Yet I cannot even begin to imagine our family, our life, our hearts without her. There was surely a gaping hole in our hearts before she filled it with her sweet smile and slobbery kisses.
LO has been out of the womb for as long as it takes to earn a college degree. Although these past four years have been much more challenging and rigorous than any college course I took (my film degree wasn't exactly astrophysics). I really didn't know what the hell I was going to do with my life after college. I certainly didn't feel prepared for any particular job. I just knew I would wing it. And that's exactly what I did. I figured it out. My first PA job I learned to write EVERYTHING down. From the Starbucks order to the cryptic message from Jon Voight to the director I was working for (for the record - that guy IS a weirdo!) I worked hard and I moved up. And then I gave it up to mother these two Sweettarts.
So here I am. Motherhood is quite different from school or a job. Yes, I wing it. And I most definitely work hard. But as a mom, you never move up (you only move up in age). You don't really know how you're doing. You don't have a yearly review. You are your own judge. And we all know that is the harshest judge of all. See, in essence, all that I dedicate myself to right now is being a good mother. Of course I have other interests and responsibilities too, but first and foremost, I strive to rock at this. So when I don't, it can really weigh on me. And here's the thing, I screw up. A lot. Like everyday. It's just the way it goes. I yell a little too much, have too little patience and take it all too seriously sometimes. I was always a bit of an over-achiever. Nothing like a genius or anything but, you know, pretty good at the things I put time into (or as my brothers used to call me, a "nerd-herd"). Yet there are days over here in Mamaland when I feel I have achieved ZILCH. All I did was survive and kept my kids alive. Days when I'm certainly not a nerd-herd parent.
Yet the small triumphs should not be overlooked. In fact, they should be heralded. Because that is most often all that you will receive in validation that you are not completely sucking at this. When your kid comes up to you and kisses your leg just because. When she shares her favorite toy with her baby sister. When you see the anger fumes coming out of her head and she calms down (i.e. doesn't throw a fit, fling something or yell) all on her own. When she tells you: "Mami, I love you even when you put me in time-out." When she brings her Dad an ice pack when she overhears that his back hurts. When she says things like: "Does God see EVERYTHING?? Even when I pick my nose??" These are all signs that you are indeed raising kind, considerate and humorous kids. Hey, when your social circle is made up of tots under 4 whose idea of a good time is playing "Trick or treat" again, you appreciate their sense of humor. (In case you're dying to know - the gist of the game is you go up to her bedroom door and say "trick-or-treat" and she opens the door and compliments your pretend costume. Repeat. 38 times.)
LO has been out of the womb for as long as it takes to earn a college degree. Although these past four years have been much more challenging and rigorous than any college course I took (my film degree wasn't exactly astrophysics). I really didn't know what the hell I was going to do with my life after college. I certainly didn't feel prepared for any particular job. I just knew I would wing it. And that's exactly what I did. I figured it out. My first PA job I learned to write EVERYTHING down. From the Starbucks order to the cryptic message from Jon Voight to the director I was working for (for the record - that guy IS a weirdo!) I worked hard and I moved up. And then I gave it up to mother these two Sweettarts.
So here I am. Motherhood is quite different from school or a job. Yes, I wing it. And I most definitely work hard. But as a mom, you never move up (you only move up in age). You don't really know how you're doing. You don't have a yearly review. You are your own judge. And we all know that is the harshest judge of all. See, in essence, all that I dedicate myself to right now is being a good mother. Of course I have other interests and responsibilities too, but first and foremost, I strive to rock at this. So when I don't, it can really weigh on me. And here's the thing, I screw up. A lot. Like everyday. It's just the way it goes. I yell a little too much, have too little patience and take it all too seriously sometimes. I was always a bit of an over-achiever. Nothing like a genius or anything but, you know, pretty good at the things I put time into (or as my brothers used to call me, a "nerd-herd"). Yet there are days over here in Mamaland when I feel I have achieved ZILCH. All I did was survive and kept my kids alive. Days when I'm certainly not a nerd-herd parent.
Yet the small triumphs should not be overlooked. In fact, they should be heralded. Because that is most often all that you will receive in validation that you are not completely sucking at this. When your kid comes up to you and kisses your leg just because. When she shares her favorite toy with her baby sister. When you see the anger fumes coming out of her head and she calms down (i.e. doesn't throw a fit, fling something or yell) all on her own. When she tells you: "Mami, I love you even when you put me in time-out." When she brings her Dad an ice pack when she overhears that his back hurts. When she says things like: "Does God see EVERYTHING?? Even when I pick my nose??" These are all signs that you are indeed raising kind, considerate and humorous kids. Hey, when your social circle is made up of tots under 4 whose idea of a good time is playing "Trick or treat" again, you appreciate their sense of humor. (In case you're dying to know - the gist of the game is you go up to her bedroom door and say "trick-or-treat" and she opens the door and compliments your pretend costume. Repeat. 38 times.)
I guess I'm hard on myself and hard on my children (or child, rather; the baby got away with murder, almost literally, she practically killed me with her terrible snacking habit at night. I was a zombie for the last 10 months. Who said Baby #2 is easier?). But I am hard on us because I expect a lot from myself, from them, from our family. Because I know it's a privilege to be their mother. It's a privilege for us to have one another. I want to be the best I can be (my over-achieving habits die hard). Everyday I want to give it my all. I want to laugh loud, hug hard, teach wisely, guide gently and observe keenly.
But guess what? It's hard to do all these things all the time. And I fail and fall short and squeak by. Yet as hard it is to measure up to my expectations, it is always easy to do the most important thing of all: love them. This has come naturally. Loving them is easy and I'll always have that. Even when I fail at everything else. I have that. Love. Always. Everyday. Every second.
It's hard to believe that I've been at this gig for four years. To say that parenting has been a challenge would be an understatement. But to say that I enjoy it would be an even greater understatement. I LOVE it. All of it.
But guess what? It's hard to do all these things all the time. And I fail and fall short and squeak by. Yet as hard it is to measure up to my expectations, it is always easy to do the most important thing of all: love them. This has come naturally. Loving them is easy and I'll always have that. Even when I fail at everything else. I have that. Love. Always. Everyday. Every second.
It's hard to believe that I've been at this gig for four years. To say that parenting has been a challenge would be an understatement. But to say that I enjoy it would be an even greater understatement. I LOVE it. All of it.
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