Last fall, I read about an essay contest in Real Simple magazine. The essay question was: What is the bravest thing you have ever done?
At the time, I was looking to write more, so I figured I would jump into the contest. How cool would it be to be published in Real Simple? I conveniently forgot I would probably be up against thousands of entries.
The winning essay (which is extremely touching and well done) was published in this month's issue. And while I didn't win first, second, or third place, I thought I'd share my submission here.
I'd like to say that, despite my serious initial struggles with becoming a mother, I'm really happy with where I am now, so please don't worry that I'm in a pit of parenting despair or anything!
As always, feel free to share any thoughts.
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I don’t consider myself brave. I’ve never run into a burning building to save a person or fought a life-threatening disease.
But if I had to nail bravery down to one act, I’d have to say that walking away from my career and becoming a stay-at-home-mom was by far the bravest thing I’ve ever done.
I became a parent at the age of 31. I’d been working full-time in non-profit communications and public affairs for a number of years in New York City and then Washington, D.C. My job took me all over the country and I felt blessed to have it.
Some come into parenthood easily. I am not one of those people. From the induced labor forward, I struggled desperately with motherhood. Looking back, it’s clear I suffered from some level of postpartum depression. I was getting no sleep, my baby girl was struggling with issues I couldn’t figure out (we know now that she suffers from severe food allergies), and I felt trapped. To say I was overwhelmed would be an understatement.
About two weeks after my daughter’s birth, we celebrated Christmas with my family (who had lovingly made the trek from Canada to D.C. to visit us for the holiday). The Ryan family loves Christmas. But as much as we tried, Christmas 2006 was not the same as years past.
I can vividly remember getting out of the shower right before for Christmas dinner (my Mom calling from downstairs that the food was ready) and breaking down in tears. My heavy breasts were leaking milk all over my stomach and blood was draining from the wounds of having given birth to a 9 pound 6.5 ounce baby only weeks before. At that moment, on one of my favorite days of the year, I imagined what it would be like to walk in front of a truck and put an end to the misery. Pretty dark stuff.
I dreaded every night. As much as my husband tried to help, he had to perform at work and needed to get some sleep. I felt so alone and scared when bed time would roll around. My child would not sleep, which meant I could not sleep. And I am one of those people who really need their sleep (as in eight hours a night). The cycle of sleepless nights and lonely days left me desperate, at times. I sadly never reached out for any help. Perhaps motherhood was supposed to be this hard? People had always told me you don’t know how hard it is until you do it. But this seemed extreme.
We lived in a small row house in a central neighborhood at the time. Every morning I would stand in front of our living room window watching all of the “worker bees” head towards their various workplaces. They looked so fresh and well dressed. They walked with such purpose. They were like I used to be, and what I still wanted to be.
The United States is the only industrialized country in the world without guaranteed paid maternity leave. I was lucky my place of employment offered eight weeks.
Before I knew it, those eight weeks had passed by in a foggy haze of depression, dirty diapers, constant breast feeding, swaddling, shooshing and exhaustion (I now understand why sleep deprivation is a form of torture). Most days, I couldn’t think straight. I had a lot of what I called “no drive” days because I would have been too much of a hazard on the road.
Clinging to the idea that I would go back to work, I took advantage of 12 weeks leave provided by the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA). I figured that would give me time to get my head screwed back on properly, or to magically snap back into the person I was before becoming a mother.
As the seasons shifted from Winter to Spring, I would day dream about how amazing it would be to sit at my desk and catch up on emails while drinking hot coffee. I would imagine how sweet it would feel to board a plane solo for meetings in another city. How I would be able to sleep all alone in a nice, quiet hotel room. How I would only have to worry about taking care of myself and my professional commitments. And to converse with intelligent adults? Oh, how divine. How could I have taken it all for granted?
As I slowly made my way out of the fog of new motherhood, I realized that having a small baby and a full-time career wasn’t going to blend as easily as I had first anticipated. If I was going back to work, I would need quality child care that would cover my travel schedule and allow my husband and I the flexibility to continue with our professional commitments (he’s in consulting and has an unreliable schedule).
Frankly, I wasn’t making the kind of money that would easily cover the additional expenses of child care, dry cleaning, daily lunches, etc. How far ahead financially would I need to come out to make going back to work worth it? Or should I be working simply because I was not cut out to be a full-time, at-home parent? What was best for me? And what was best for my little family?
The answers to those questions changed as rapidly as the diapers I was changing. One moment I would be sure I had to go back to the office. How could I have invested all those years in school to now sabotage everything I had worked so hard to build professionally? The next moment I would think of how fast my beautiful (and still extremely difficult and exhausting) daughter was growing and how it would be such a shame to miss out on all those “firsts.” I knew in my heart that as shaky a job as I was doing, no one else was going to try to soothe and comfort her like I was.
I had become a mom and I was slowly realizing that my identity had profoundly shifted.
And here’s where the bravery part kicks in. About half way through my FMLA leave, I met my boss for a lunch date, ordered a glass of white wine, and quit my job. He knew it was coming...even if I hadn’t been willing to admit it to myself for months.
I had absolutely no plan. How long would I be home for? How would I fill our days? And what about all the other jobs I was taking on? I was now CEO of our family and that came with some serious responsibility.
I became the house cleaning, grocery shopping, laundry doing, dinner making, stay-at-home mom. I had to shake off my old “worker bee” identity and try to embrace this new, and frankly, much less glamorous identity. And I realized I was lucky to have the choice.
There were many bumps along the path to finding our family “groove.” Especially as we threw another baby into the mix two years after my daughter’s birth. I frequently questioned my parenting abilities (or lack thereof). I wondered why I still struggled while other moms made it look so easy (especially the moms working outside of the home! How did they do it?). I’m embarrassed to admit this, but it was a good five years before I felt like I (mostly) had a handle on everything.
On tough days, my old “worker bee” identity would pop out and reprimand my current “stay-at-home” identity for having given up my job. To this day, almost seven years into it, I can’t help but wonder how far I could have gone if I had stuck with my career. I’ll never know. While I’ve been doing some freelance writing, my old career path is dead.
It’s funny because I probably could have written the same essay if I had made the opposite choice. Going back to work, as the majority of new moms do, would have been extremely brave. But for me, walking away from my career was one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. I’m proud of what I did and I’d like to think it was really brave.
Showing posts with label identity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label identity. Show all posts
Saturday, March 15, 2014
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Her Hair
You may recall me mentioning the babe's amazingly awesome black hair. My daughter was blessed with hair from her father's side of the family and while it has a few red streaks from my side, it is mostly just stunning black hair.
Last week as we were driving home from school (she is in the "extended program"), the babe asked me when she would be able to dye her hair. We were at a red light and I had to turn my head around to look at her and see if she was being serious. She continued, "when am I going to be old enough to dye my hair, Mama?"
I took a deep breath and asked her why she wanted to dye her hair. She told me she wanted it to be blonde like a lot of the girls at school. My heart sank. I told her what I just told you above, "Sweet heart, you have amazing black hair and you are lucky to have it. You don't need to look like everyone else."
This all reminded me of an independent film my husband and I watched recently called Shades of Ray. The 2008 film is about a twenty-something American man raised by his white mother and Pakistani father. Throughout the movie he questions his identity and struggles to figure out a way to "fit in" despite the fact he is from a mixed family.
The film struck a chord with me. It had me wondering if my kids will have similar experiences growing up in a pretty white culture and if they will struggle with their half and half identity (my husband is of Indian descent - the South Asian kind). Is the babe's desire to dye her hair blonde at age 5 just the beginning of a longer process or was it just a one off experience? I have a feeling it may be the former.
While Washington, D.C. is culturally diverse and there are a lot of kids of mixed descent, you can still easily find yourself in a room full of only white people. Is that something the babe is starting to notice?
I suppose all I can do is help guide her as she starts to figure out her place in the world. I truly hope both my kids realize how cool it is to come from such a rich background and that they'll be able to use that knowledge in positive ways as they become their own people.
Last week as we were driving home from school (she is in the "extended program"), the babe asked me when she would be able to dye her hair. We were at a red light and I had to turn my head around to look at her and see if she was being serious. She continued, "when am I going to be old enough to dye my hair, Mama?"
I took a deep breath and asked her why she wanted to dye her hair. She told me she wanted it to be blonde like a lot of the girls at school. My heart sank. I told her what I just told you above, "Sweet heart, you have amazing black hair and you are lucky to have it. You don't need to look like everyone else."
This all reminded me of an independent film my husband and I watched recently called Shades of Ray. The 2008 film is about a twenty-something American man raised by his white mother and Pakistani father. Throughout the movie he questions his identity and struggles to figure out a way to "fit in" despite the fact he is from a mixed family.
The film struck a chord with me. It had me wondering if my kids will have similar experiences growing up in a pretty white culture and if they will struggle with their half and half identity (my husband is of Indian descent - the South Asian kind). Is the babe's desire to dye her hair blonde at age 5 just the beginning of a longer process or was it just a one off experience? I have a feeling it may be the former.
While Washington, D.C. is culturally diverse and there are a lot of kids of mixed descent, you can still easily find yourself in a room full of only white people. Is that something the babe is starting to notice?
I suppose all I can do is help guide her as she starts to figure out her place in the world. I truly hope both my kids realize how cool it is to come from such a rich background and that they'll be able to use that knowledge in positive ways as they become their own people.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
"I Boy"
Things around here have been busy. Not sure if I'm just adjusting to the new season, or things really are just plain busy. Essentially I have lots to say, and no time to write it. Or, more like, lots to say and by the time I get a chance to write I really don't feel like writing.
But here I sit, with a second to spare, and I want to take this opportunity to capture a moment I do not want to forget. Because ultimately, that is what this blog is about. When I am sitting in my rocking chair in a retirement home all old and gray, I want to read these words and remember.
We had just gotten back from an excursion in the car. I walked over and opened the little guy's door to unbuckle and get him out. I said, "Hi, Baby." He looked at me and said, "I no baby! I boy!" I let out a big laugh and gave him a bear hug while kissing his boy cheeks. "Indeed, my love, you are a boy," I replied.
I suppose when the kid is saying it himself, it must be true. My baby is a boy. He will be 3 in less than 3 months. He is a boy. And, as hard as it may be, it is time for me to embrace it. It's only been a week, but those words have been repeated many times around this house. We all know that the little guy is a boy, and that he's happy to be one.
Between you and me though, he'll always be my baby.
But here I sit, with a second to spare, and I want to take this opportunity to capture a moment I do not want to forget. Because ultimately, that is what this blog is about. When I am sitting in my rocking chair in a retirement home all old and gray, I want to read these words and remember.
We had just gotten back from an excursion in the car. I walked over and opened the little guy's door to unbuckle and get him out. I said, "Hi, Baby." He looked at me and said, "I no baby! I boy!" I let out a big laugh and gave him a bear hug while kissing his boy cheeks. "Indeed, my love, you are a boy," I replied.
I suppose when the kid is saying it himself, it must be true. My baby is a boy. He will be 3 in less than 3 months. He is a boy. And, as hard as it may be, it is time for me to embrace it. It's only been a week, but those words have been repeated many times around this house. We all know that the little guy is a boy, and that he's happy to be one.
Between you and me though, he'll always be my baby.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Perception
Last night I went to a community "social" event. It was a wine & cheese/meet & greet, book reading/discussion hosted by my next door neighbor, the local community association President. After confirming my attendance the day prior, my neighbor asked me for a favor. Would I be able to help watch the bar and make sure there was enough wine, beer, and glasses left out for the crowd? In my new role as Block Captain (that's another story), I was more than happy to help out.
I was looking forward to a little intellectual conversation and to learning a bit more about this father-daughter journalist team. I have both a political science and journalism background so I tend to enjoy this sort of event. I briefly spoke to my Mother before leaving and mentioned that I was off to a book reading. When I mentioned the book title, Haunting Legacy: Vietnam and the American Presidency from Ford to Obama, she informed me she had just seen the authors interviewed on PBS last week. Who knew my neighborhood was so cutting edge?
After making sure everyone at home was fed and bathed, I threw on some fitted black non-play date clothes and went off to the event. I quickly got to business tending the bar as there was a healthy turn out and lots of glasses being filled. After I had made a few trips from the fridge to the bar, the event planner's husband (my next door neighbor) asked if I had ever worked in restaurants or bars before. Apparently I was right back in the swing of my former role as a student server/bartender.
I quickly realized no one was really speaking to me, unless it was to ask a question about the wine, nor were they really making eye contact. Oh My. It dawned on me that my neighbors thought I was being paid to do this! In fact, my neighbors didn't realize that I was their neighbor.
I suppose I was probably the youngest person in the room, and wearing black, and standing behind the bar. When I mentioned my observations to my next door neighbor, the event planner, she said I should take it as a compliment, and I'm going to. For half an hour I was my old poli sci/journalism student bartending self. Perhaps it was even a little slice of feeling alive? Whatever it was, it reminded me that what we perceive to be the truth, isn't always so, and who I appear to be can change from the streets of Manhattan to the parks of Washington, DC to the community centers of Bethesda.
I was looking forward to a little intellectual conversation and to learning a bit more about this father-daughter journalist team. I have both a political science and journalism background so I tend to enjoy this sort of event. I briefly spoke to my Mother before leaving and mentioned that I was off to a book reading. When I mentioned the book title, Haunting Legacy: Vietnam and the American Presidency from Ford to Obama, she informed me she had just seen the authors interviewed on PBS last week. Who knew my neighborhood was so cutting edge?
After making sure everyone at home was fed and bathed, I threw on some fitted black non-play date clothes and went off to the event. I quickly got to business tending the bar as there was a healthy turn out and lots of glasses being filled. After I had made a few trips from the fridge to the bar, the event planner's husband (my next door neighbor) asked if I had ever worked in restaurants or bars before. Apparently I was right back in the swing of my former role as a student server/bartender.
I quickly realized no one was really speaking to me, unless it was to ask a question about the wine, nor were they really making eye contact. Oh My. It dawned on me that my neighbors thought I was being paid to do this! In fact, my neighbors didn't realize that I was their neighbor.
I suppose I was probably the youngest person in the room, and wearing black, and standing behind the bar. When I mentioned my observations to my next door neighbor, the event planner, she said I should take it as a compliment, and I'm going to. For half an hour I was my old poli sci/journalism student bartending self. Perhaps it was even a little slice of feeling alive? Whatever it was, it reminded me that what we perceive to be the truth, isn't always so, and who I appear to be can change from the streets of Manhattan to the parks of Washington, DC to the community centers of Bethesda.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow - Part Two
I realize now that yesterday's post was rather self indulgent and privileged sounding. Last night I was thinking about what I'd written and it dawned on me that I really should be focussing on how lucky I am to even be in the position I'm in.
As I watched Mothers trying to find food and shelter for their children in drought stricken East Africa on the BBC last night, I was reminded that I have no right to complain about my lack of independent travel and people watching opportunities. I chose my path and am blessed to be on it. The feeling alive sensation I had over the weekend was just a different version of the one I normally have now (like when everything is going smashingly well with my family).
I have never had both feet fully in the stay-at-home Mama thing, and have always wondered how long I would last with this job title. What I have trouble dealing with is the idea that it could go on endlessly unless I actively pursue another path. The more I think about it, the more I realize that path is going to have to be flexible and balanced. Needless to say, that isn't going to be easy to find.
As I ran from errand to errand this morning with the little guy in tow, I remembered how busy and important my job really is. It may not be what I was trained to do, but for now I am the best person to do it. No one else can be a Mama to my kids and for now, while they are so young, I think my efforts are best focused on the home front. If I can't get everything done now, I can't imagine how strung out I'd feel if I was at an office full time.
What I haven't told you is that I have arranged for the little guy to join a co-op nursery school for 2 mornings a week in September. He is ready to be away from me and I am excited to have found what appears to be a very loving and play based environment for him. It will also amount to 5 hours of "alone" time for me. This will be the first regular 5 hours a week I have had alone in almost 5 years. I know the time will go by fast, but I am already excited by all the things I hope to achieve with my special time.
Don't get me wrong, everything I said yesterday is still true (and self indulgent, but I really do want that feeling alive feeling more!!). But so is this. I just wanted to make sure I put out a balanced picture when sending my thoughts to the universe.
As I watched Mothers trying to find food and shelter for their children in drought stricken East Africa on the BBC last night, I was reminded that I have no right to complain about my lack of independent travel and people watching opportunities. I chose my path and am blessed to be on it. The feeling alive sensation I had over the weekend was just a different version of the one I normally have now (like when everything is going smashingly well with my family).
I have never had both feet fully in the stay-at-home Mama thing, and have always wondered how long I would last with this job title. What I have trouble dealing with is the idea that it could go on endlessly unless I actively pursue another path. The more I think about it, the more I realize that path is going to have to be flexible and balanced. Needless to say, that isn't going to be easy to find.
As I ran from errand to errand this morning with the little guy in tow, I remembered how busy and important my job really is. It may not be what I was trained to do, but for now I am the best person to do it. No one else can be a Mama to my kids and for now, while they are so young, I think my efforts are best focused on the home front. If I can't get everything done now, I can't imagine how strung out I'd feel if I was at an office full time.
What I haven't told you is that I have arranged for the little guy to join a co-op nursery school for 2 mornings a week in September. He is ready to be away from me and I am excited to have found what appears to be a very loving and play based environment for him. It will also amount to 5 hours of "alone" time for me. This will be the first regular 5 hours a week I have had alone in almost 5 years. I know the time will go by fast, but I am already excited by all the things I hope to achieve with my special time.
Don't get me wrong, everything I said yesterday is still true (and self indulgent, but I really do want that feeling alive feeling more!!). But so is this. I just wanted to make sure I put out a balanced picture when sending my thoughts to the universe.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow
I am slowly coming back down to earth after my marvelous visit to my favorite city. The problem with looking forward to something for so long is that you don't quite know what to feel once it's over. Needless to say, it was a brilliant adventure (thanks, A!). And while I was happy to return to my sweet sleeping children, my tired husband (thanks again, honey!), and my very own home, I am always sad to leave THE place that makes me feel so very alive.
As I don't normally get uninterrupted time to read, I had decided on some light entertainment for my train travels. The book I chose to bring along was about a single professional girl living in Manhattan, about my age. The character is at a point where she is questioning what she wants out of life and whether or not she'd even be able to play the role of the "good Mother" who makes necklaces out of Cheerios and plans blow out birthday parties for her kids. The character passes a comment that stay-at-home Mothers know what every day, month, and year are going to look like for at least the next decade. Their lives are determined by their children's lives and schedules.
Reading that made me feel sick. And as a stay-at-home Mother, I am not sure I agree. Or perhaps I don't want to think about the truth that may lie in her comment. I am a planner, so the idea of knowing what the next decade looks like is oddly reassuring. At the same time, I am not a fan of the next decade of my life being structured only by my children's academic calendars and extra curricular activities.
This leads me to the feeling alive thing. Being in NYC with friends who knew me before I was a Mama reminded me of what it feels like to be me. Just me. Christine. Not the wife part and not the Mother part. The me that used to have a job on Madison Avenue. The me that used to have a seriously active social life. The me that traveled, had fun, and a whole lot less responsibility.
I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, because I have almost everything I used to dream of having. I realize I am a grown up now and will never be that carefree girl again. And that's more than OK. But something about being on my own for the first weekend in over a year got me to thinking, how can I get this feeling more? Frequent independent travel is not doable for the foreseeable future, but would having a paid job outside the home give me that feeling back? Would having an identity outside of this family give me the independence and exposure to humanity that I seem to be missing?
These are serious questions which I've been facing for some time. And while I go back and forth on what the ideal plan for our family is, I am now realizing that the dream scenario has to include what is best for my family AND for me. While I can't run off to Manhattan whenever I need some feeling alive time, I want to remember the importance of that feeling. My quest for balance between Motherhood and personal independence is not a new one, but it certainly has come back to the forefront of my mind.
While I'm not going to figure this all out today, sometimes it just feels good to spit out my confusion and questions to the universe and see what comes back my way.
As I don't normally get uninterrupted time to read, I had decided on some light entertainment for my train travels. The book I chose to bring along was about a single professional girl living in Manhattan, about my age. The character is at a point where she is questioning what she wants out of life and whether or not she'd even be able to play the role of the "good Mother" who makes necklaces out of Cheerios and plans blow out birthday parties for her kids. The character passes a comment that stay-at-home Mothers know what every day, month, and year are going to look like for at least the next decade. Their lives are determined by their children's lives and schedules.
Reading that made me feel sick. And as a stay-at-home Mother, I am not sure I agree. Or perhaps I don't want to think about the truth that may lie in her comment. I am a planner, so the idea of knowing what the next decade looks like is oddly reassuring. At the same time, I am not a fan of the next decade of my life being structured only by my children's academic calendars and extra curricular activities.
This leads me to the feeling alive thing. Being in NYC with friends who knew me before I was a Mama reminded me of what it feels like to be me. Just me. Christine. Not the wife part and not the Mother part. The me that used to have a job on Madison Avenue. The me that used to have a seriously active social life. The me that traveled, had fun, and a whole lot less responsibility.
I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, because I have almost everything I used to dream of having. I realize I am a grown up now and will never be that carefree girl again. And that's more than OK. But something about being on my own for the first weekend in over a year got me to thinking, how can I get this feeling more? Frequent independent travel is not doable for the foreseeable future, but would having a paid job outside the home give me that feeling back? Would having an identity outside of this family give me the independence and exposure to humanity that I seem to be missing?
These are serious questions which I've been facing for some time. And while I go back and forth on what the ideal plan for our family is, I am now realizing that the dream scenario has to include what is best for my family AND for me. While I can't run off to Manhattan whenever I need some feeling alive time, I want to remember the importance of that feeling. My quest for balance between Motherhood and personal independence is not a new one, but it certainly has come back to the forefront of my mind.
While I'm not going to figure this all out today, sometimes it just feels good to spit out my confusion and questions to the universe and see what comes back my way.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Not An Artist
I was trying to have a balanced approach to parenting when I enrolled the little guy in an arts and crafts class. I figured he would benefit from exploring his more creative side. I was wrong.
Sadly we had quite a miserable time at our first art class this morning.
It's not that he was the youngest kid at the table. He wasn't. It's not that there weren't interesting things to do. There were. It's that he wanted to leave the table and run around the room exploring. He also wanted to throw a few crying fits, step on other people's art work drying on the floor, stare out the window at the clouds, and pretty much anything that didn't have something to do with the class we had registered for.
I knew within a few minutes I had made a mistake. I had an internal dialogue on whether I should switch to a more active class or just get my money back. I was also debating whether I was giving him enough of a chance. Perhaps he just needs to try it a few times, I thought to myself.
Well by the end of it I had decided I was not going to torture myself for the next eight Friday mornings. I asked the teacher if she knew about the withdrawal policy and while she didn't have any useful information for me, she certainly seemed relieved that my non artistic son and I would not be coming back and interrupting her little class.
I was relieved when the front desk guy reassured me that it would be OK and passed along the contact info of the Director of kids programing. I gave her a call as soon as we got home and we switched the little guy into a sports class as of next week. No hassle whatsoever.
I don't feel like a failure. But I did learn a lesson. The little guy is not the type of kid who wants to sit at a table quietly painting. This guy wants to move. And I'm going to let him.
Sadly we had quite a miserable time at our first art class this morning.
It's not that he was the youngest kid at the table. He wasn't. It's not that there weren't interesting things to do. There were. It's that he wanted to leave the table and run around the room exploring. He also wanted to throw a few crying fits, step on other people's art work drying on the floor, stare out the window at the clouds, and pretty much anything that didn't have something to do with the class we had registered for.
I knew within a few minutes I had made a mistake. I had an internal dialogue on whether I should switch to a more active class or just get my money back. I was also debating whether I was giving him enough of a chance. Perhaps he just needs to try it a few times, I thought to myself.
Well by the end of it I had decided I was not going to torture myself for the next eight Friday mornings. I asked the teacher if she knew about the withdrawal policy and while she didn't have any useful information for me, she certainly seemed relieved that my non artistic son and I would not be coming back and interrupting her little class.
I was relieved when the front desk guy reassured me that it would be OK and passed along the contact info of the Director of kids programing. I gave her a call as soon as we got home and we switched the little guy into a sports class as of next week. No hassle whatsoever.
I don't feel like a failure. But I did learn a lesson. The little guy is not the type of kid who wants to sit at a table quietly painting. This guy wants to move. And I'm going to let him.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The Colors of Us
I wanted to recommend another book.
A friend gave us a copy of The Colors of Us (by Karen Katz) a while back. We hadn't read it to the babe much when we originally got it because it was a bit beyond her. But we are now at the perfect place for this special book.
Such a perfect place that the babe has me read it to her every day (a few times).
I quickly looked at reviews on Amazon, and while the majority are positive, there are some which attack the book, claiming it reinforces negative stereotypes of different racial groups.
This criticism doesn't really mean much to me because the babe likes the book and so do I. I'm not sure how much I've mentioned in the past, but my husband is of Indian descent and I am a mix of Irish/English and French. That makes our kids a mix of many things, and with Indian names and slightly darker skin, they are going to confront issues I never confronted growing up.
This book talks about all the different shades of brown and I like that it brings so many groups of people together in its simple story line. Tonight the babe asked what color she was and I told her she was a creamy cappuccino (the book has many flavour references). That made us both giggle.
While we have been slowly broaching the subject that Mama and Papa have different skin colours, it seems as though we are still at a point where that is perfectly normal, and I'd like to keep it that way.
A friend gave us a copy of The Colors of Us (by Karen Katz) a while back. We hadn't read it to the babe much when we originally got it because it was a bit beyond her. But we are now at the perfect place for this special book.
Such a perfect place that the babe has me read it to her every day (a few times).
I quickly looked at reviews on Amazon, and while the majority are positive, there are some which attack the book, claiming it reinforces negative stereotypes of different racial groups.
This criticism doesn't really mean much to me because the babe likes the book and so do I. I'm not sure how much I've mentioned in the past, but my husband is of Indian descent and I am a mix of Irish/English and French. That makes our kids a mix of many things, and with Indian names and slightly darker skin, they are going to confront issues I never confronted growing up.
This book talks about all the different shades of brown and I like that it brings so many groups of people together in its simple story line. Tonight the babe asked what color she was and I told her she was a creamy cappuccino (the book has many flavour references). That made us both giggle.
While we have been slowly broaching the subject that Mama and Papa have different skin colours, it seems as though we are still at a point where that is perfectly normal, and I'd like to keep it that way.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Lawyers
I had another (short) conversation with the babe's new teacher today. She asked me if I know what my daughter wants to be when she grows up. I replied that I thought she wanted to be an astronaut (she keeps talking about going up in a rocket). The teacher shook her head and told me that today the babe announced she wants to be a lawyer. Yikes. I laughed and did a fake shudder. Why would a 3.5 year old want to be a lawyer and where is she learning about this stuff? No doubt, she'd be an awesome lawyer.
I told my husband the story and he asked the babe if she knows what a lawyer does. She replied that lawyers are people who tell you what you can and cannot do. It's amazing how smart kids are these days.
I told my husband the story and he asked the babe if she knows what a lawyer does. She replied that lawyers are people who tell you what you can and cannot do. It's amazing how smart kids are these days.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
An Old Soul
I had a little chat with the babe's new teacher on Friday at pick up (the babe was finishing up her sports program at the time). We spoke about how the babe is doing so much better these days and that her outlandish behavior of a few weeks ago was probably just a result of changing classrooms and having a new teacher. It was a huge relief!
The babe's teacher continued on and told me a few stories about some recent conversations with the babe. Apparently even my daughter's teacher forgets she's speaking with a 3.5 year old sometimes because the babe is so verbal and has such a high level of comprehension. I was also told that my daughter can be a drama queen (no surprise there), and that she is an old soul.
It is that last comment that makes me feel reassured. The babe has so many amazing qualities, but for a 3.5 year old to be an old soul...well that's just cool.
PS-I realize I dropped the ball yesterday and didn't post. I just didn't have it in me, and I decided that was OK. I figured you wouldn't hold it against me.
The babe's teacher continued on and told me a few stories about some recent conversations with the babe. Apparently even my daughter's teacher forgets she's speaking with a 3.5 year old sometimes because the babe is so verbal and has such a high level of comprehension. I was also told that my daughter can be a drama queen (no surprise there), and that she is an old soul.
It is that last comment that makes me feel reassured. The babe has so many amazing qualities, but for a 3.5 year old to be an old soul...well that's just cool.
PS-I realize I dropped the ball yesterday and didn't post. I just didn't have it in me, and I decided that was OK. I figured you wouldn't hold it against me.
Monday, June 21, 2010
It's All Good
In last night's post I mentioned I was happy to come home to my family after my one night get away. But I forgot to mention I was also happy to come back to my life in Washington, DC. For the first time, I was not sad to be leaving the Big Apple, and that is a big deal.
When I moved away from NYC as a single childless professional 7 years ago, I figured I'd only be in DC for a few years, if that. I knew I wanted to move back to New York, and that DC was just a temporary situation. I would never have guessed I'd end up married raising 2 kids here.
In the years since, I have missed New York. And after my many visits back, I would long for it and wish I could be living the life my friends had continued living there without me. That is unhealthy, but it was the truth.
DC started to grow on me once I had my children here. It became their birthplace, and that is something pretty special. It now feels like my home, and I appreciate all the amazing things it has to offer (not that I take advantage of all of them). It still has its issues, but it really is a whole lot easier to raise a family here than in the Big Apple.
I suppose that I now see things through the eyes of a Mother, and since I haven't travelled back to my old home much in the past few years, I had never realized that I actually am in the right place now. Living in the big city comes with a lot of sacrifices and challenges, and it also costs a boat load of money. I love our huge lawn and the fact that I can see the stars and hear the crickets at night. Yet we are only five metro stops from my husband's office downtown. Five stops doesn't get you far in New York.
I will always miss NYC and it will continue to have a special place in my heart. And somewhere down the road it would be very cool to live there again (without small children and with lots of cash), but for now, I have a blessed life here in DC, and I'm grateful for it.
When I moved away from NYC as a single childless professional 7 years ago, I figured I'd only be in DC for a few years, if that. I knew I wanted to move back to New York, and that DC was just a temporary situation. I would never have guessed I'd end up married raising 2 kids here.
In the years since, I have missed New York. And after my many visits back, I would long for it and wish I could be living the life my friends had continued living there without me. That is unhealthy, but it was the truth.
DC started to grow on me once I had my children here. It became their birthplace, and that is something pretty special. It now feels like my home, and I appreciate all the amazing things it has to offer (not that I take advantage of all of them). It still has its issues, but it really is a whole lot easier to raise a family here than in the Big Apple.
I suppose that I now see things through the eyes of a Mother, and since I haven't travelled back to my old home much in the past few years, I had never realized that I actually am in the right place now. Living in the big city comes with a lot of sacrifices and challenges, and it also costs a boat load of money. I love our huge lawn and the fact that I can see the stars and hear the crickets at night. Yet we are only five metro stops from my husband's office downtown. Five stops doesn't get you far in New York.
I will always miss NYC and it will continue to have a special place in my heart. And somewhere down the road it would be very cool to live there again (without small children and with lots of cash), but for now, I have a blessed life here in DC, and I'm grateful for it.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
My Pride
I think I just let myself feel sorry for myself. It is pretty ridiculous, especially after all my musings about needing to be grateful. Today I managed to get the house ready for the cleaning lady (I broke down when the little guy was born and have her come in every 3 weeks), bring the babe into school, get some quick shopping done at Target (where the little guy managed to get his arm stuck in the shopping cart and create a bit of a dramatic and scary scene), and rush home to deal with the HVAC cleaning guys. Not bad for a Wednesday morning.
The pride wounding happened when I spoke to my husband on his lunch break. He casually mentioned that he had had lunch with one of his his best friends (who happens to work a few blocks from my husband). I also happen to be friends with my hubby's best friend's wife (it's hard not using names all the time!). Like us, they are new parents (although they are "newer" than us and have only one child). My friend is a successful journalist who sometimes gets to write about her experiences in the crazy world of motherhood. Not a bad gig, right?
So, my husband mentions that our friend just wrote about an expensive baby equipment purchase they were thinking of making (Budgeting With a Baby in US News and World Report), and that she had mentioned a store (Giggle) that they had been shopping around in (I just happened to be window shopping there last night). Apparently the founder of this lovely national chain has directly commented on our friend's piece.
It became unbelievably clear to me that although I am writing about my motherhood experiences, no CEOs will be leaving comments on my posts, let alone reading them. And I felt kind of like a loser. Like a career less, boring, errand running, domestic bliss coordinator. My husband didn't understand why my mood shifted so quickly (nor did I for that matter).
So I had a little sulk (perhaps you could call it a pity party), heated up my husband's left over hockey pizza from last night (part of my health kick), and sat down to tell you about my feelings. And you know what? I feel better now. Sometimes we just need to embrace what we have...and that is a lot in my case. And I'll have to forward this to my journalist friend so I don't feel like a crazy mommy blogger! Thanks for reading...and feel free to leave a comment! I always love to hear from you (even if you're not a CEO type).
The pride wounding happened when I spoke to my husband on his lunch break. He casually mentioned that he had had lunch with one of his his best friends (who happens to work a few blocks from my husband). I also happen to be friends with my hubby's best friend's wife (it's hard not using names all the time!). Like us, they are new parents (although they are "newer" than us and have only one child). My friend is a successful journalist who sometimes gets to write about her experiences in the crazy world of motherhood. Not a bad gig, right?
So, my husband mentions that our friend just wrote about an expensive baby equipment purchase they were thinking of making (Budgeting With a Baby in US News and World Report), and that she had mentioned a store (Giggle) that they had been shopping around in (I just happened to be window shopping there last night). Apparently the founder of this lovely national chain has directly commented on our friend's piece.
It became unbelievably clear to me that although I am writing about my motherhood experiences, no CEOs will be leaving comments on my posts, let alone reading them. And I felt kind of like a loser. Like a career less, boring, errand running, domestic bliss coordinator. My husband didn't understand why my mood shifted so quickly (nor did I for that matter).
So I had a little sulk (perhaps you could call it a pity party), heated up my husband's left over hockey pizza from last night (part of my health kick), and sat down to tell you about my feelings. And you know what? I feel better now. Sometimes we just need to embrace what we have...and that is a lot in my case. And I'll have to forward this to my journalist friend so I don't feel like a crazy mommy blogger! Thanks for reading...and feel free to leave a comment! I always love to hear from you (even if you're not a CEO type).
Sunday, May 2, 2010
The Challenge
As you know, I am a stay-at-home Mom. I don't know how long I plan on doing this, and whenever I start to think about my game plan, I get overwhelmed. I want to take care of my kids, even though many aspects of the job drive me batty. But I am missing something. I thought I would take up swimming last fall, but that didn't happen. I thought it would be good to join a walking club, but that hasn't happened either. And I think a lot about what I want to be when I grow up. But no practical answers have come to me. People say you should identify what you love to do and work out a way to get paid for it. Can I make a living writing? I wouldn't even know where to start (and the fact that my husband always finds typos in my entries is rather troublesome).
So, after watching Julie and Julia last night (it was a "me" night as my hubby was out to dinner with a friend), I am pondering my rather slack commitment to my blog. I love to write, and I'm looking for "something," just like Julie. I'm not about to start cooking up a storm, but I can start to write more. It seems as though lots of folks are getting attention/coverage/movie and book deals these days by doing something extreme and writing about it (for example, see the On a Dollar a Day project).
I am not ready to do anything overly extreme, but I am pondering the idea of writing a blog entry every day. It does not have to be long and insightful, but it could relay a little nugget of my day to you. I have been happy to share my experiences (however inconsistent I have been) over the past few years, and I think writing every day will provide an outlet and a level of discipline I need right now. Luckily I've been a (rather slack) blogger for years so I don't feel like I'm jumping on the band wagon (even if I kinda am). But if I can find my path by hammering out a daily entry, then I'm all for it.
This is not a really well thought out plan, but I am excited about the prospects and the challenge. Hope you're in for the ride. Here we go....
So, after watching Julie and Julia last night (it was a "me" night as my hubby was out to dinner with a friend), I am pondering my rather slack commitment to my blog. I love to write, and I'm looking for "something," just like Julie. I'm not about to start cooking up a storm, but I can start to write more. It seems as though lots of folks are getting attention/coverage/movie and book deals these days by doing something extreme and writing about it (for example, see the On a Dollar a Day project).
I am not ready to do anything overly extreme, but I am pondering the idea of writing a blog entry every day. It does not have to be long and insightful, but it could relay a little nugget of my day to you. I have been happy to share my experiences (however inconsistent I have been) over the past few years, and I think writing every day will provide an outlet and a level of discipline I need right now. Luckily I've been a (rather slack) blogger for years so I don't feel like I'm jumping on the band wagon (even if I kinda am). But if I can find my path by hammering out a daily entry, then I'm all for it.
This is not a really well thought out plan, but I am excited about the prospects and the challenge. Hope you're in for the ride. Here we go....
Friday, April 23, 2010
Activities, Anyone?
Hockey, hockey, hockey, hockey. Welcome to my world. The Montreal Canadiens have been playing the Washington Capitals in the playoffs, and it has been a big part of our life lately (my husband is a huge Montreal fan and we just happen to live in Washington, DC).Guess what we're doing right now? Guess what we did last night (the Ottawa Senators, which is my official team, is also in the playoffs)? A whole lotta hockey going on.
Anyway. My folks are in town from Ottawa which is absolutely lovely. It is so great seeing them interact with their only grandchildren. I've noticed that this has been a really nice visit in that the kids are much more "under control" than they have been in the past. As you may know, the first few years with itsy bitsy children in the house are crazy. Things are in flux and new parents are trying to keep in the game. This is the first visit from my folks where I feel like I have a pretty good handle on my parenting. And you know what? It feels good!
In other news I have been struggling to keep my daughter from freaking out after school every day. Spring is in the air and that has created some serious outdoor expectations. The babe's after school greeting is now: "Mama, where can we go now?" It's as if our home isn't good enough.
Many days end in screaming and tears before we've even made it home from school. And I honestly am trying to keep her entertained and active. Some days I do the park, which is exceptionally challenging with 2 very active kids. Some days I think of some other activity, such as the library last Monday, to keep us occupied. But no matter what I think up, it always ends in more tears when it's time to pack up and go home. Seriously, even if I give her what she wants, she's still angry at me for dragging her home. If I have this much trouble with a 3 year old, I am extremely nervous about our future.
Speaking of after-school activities, this week we started a whole new phase of life....soccer. Yes, she's only 3, but she is now on a soccer "team" of 3 year olds in Bethesda, MD. On Tuesday, I officially became a "Soccer Mom." If you knew me a few years back, you'd appreciate how humorous this new title is. At least I'm not driving a mini van, yet (no offense to all you mini van drivers).
To make it even more humorous, I baked brownies for the school bake sale on Wednesday. They just happen to be raising money for the local park. Can't say no to that, now can you?
Sometimes I wonder where "I" went...and then I remember that I have willingly created this new reality for myself. No point fighting it. Might as well embrace it. Here's to soccer practice, hockey playoffs, the annoying and distracting park, and being an egg free, dairy free, peanut free, tree nut free, brownie baking, stay-at-home Mom.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Yesterday
Last night I put on a suit (the date on the dry cleaner tag was 7/11/2005--yikes), some eyeliner and mascara, and some sandals which were not flip flops. I drove to the Canadian Embassy (all alone) and proceeded to mingle with adults. It was really great. I am still able to speak with strangers in a professional like environment and I can still answer the question "what do you do" with a smile. I was home by 9pm and in bed by 11pm. I went to sleep with a comforting feeling that I will be OK (we broke down and turned on the AC which may have helped).
Before I took off for the evening, I gave the rice cereal a try again with my son (the allergist said rice cereal is the least allergenic food you can give a baby). This time he ate a whole half a tablespoon and did not spit it up. I was pretty thrilled and plan on doing it again today. He went a 4 hour stretch last night, which I attribute to the food (granted he woke up a lot after that stretch). I am still exhausted.
I am also still waiting for a call from the allergist regarding the babe and her allergy "action plan" for school. They didn't have her chart last week when all 4 of us showed up for the appointment (not cool), so we need to go over her official testing results before we can finalize anything. I am hopeful she will not need to be in a "nut free" room. Will keep you posted.
Before I took off for the evening, I gave the rice cereal a try again with my son (the allergist said rice cereal is the least allergenic food you can give a baby). This time he ate a whole half a tablespoon and did not spit it up. I was pretty thrilled and plan on doing it again today. He went a 4 hour stretch last night, which I attribute to the food (granted he woke up a lot after that stretch). I am still exhausted.
I am also still waiting for a call from the allergist regarding the babe and her allergy "action plan" for school. They didn't have her chart last week when all 4 of us showed up for the appointment (not cool), so we need to go over her official testing results before we can finalize anything. I am hopeful she will not need to be in a "nut free" room. Will keep you posted.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Brain Meltdown
My son is getting up every 2 to 3 hours every night to eat. I therefore feel as though my brains are melting out of my ears. I have heard of a 4 month growth spurt, but this is ridiculous. We have his 4 month doc appointment on Thursday and I am going to ask about night weaning. I am ready for some sleep, and I think it would benefit him as well.
I know part of the problem is that I still have him in the co-sleeper next to our bed. It has made life so much easier for all the night-time feedings. I am not good at getting out of bed, so being able to simply lift him out, feed and burp him, and put him back in his little co-sleeper has been awesome. But those days may be coming to a close.
His crib is all set up in his room. We moved the babe out of her crib and into a big girl bed in February and she hasn't missed her crib at all. We lost a lot of control (she can now get out of bed any 'oll time she likes), but she was able to climb out of it which was a pretty good sign she was ready. We gave her some time to get used to the idea of "her" crib being moved into her little brother's room, and after a month of having both the crib and toddler bed stuffed in there, we moved the crib on out.
Now it may be time to move him into it. It is going to be hard and I foresee a lot of crying (both him and me). But perhaps there will be a way to combine the night weaning with the crib sleeping. I will get the doc's opinion and move forward. I need to do something as I am in a serious fog and it's really not healthy for me or the rest of my family.
In other news I'm off to a university alumni cocktail reception at the Canadian Embassy tonight. In 1996 I graduated with my BA Hons in pol sci from Concordia University in Montreal. Tonight the new President, Judith Woodsworth, will be in town to meet DC alum. I will be attending on my own without any children, which should be nice. I will also be expected to make intelligent conversation with adults, which I am dreading. Do I remember how to be a normal person in a social situation? Can I pull of wearing "business attire" after all these years in sweats and jeans? I have 9 ounces of pumped milk in the fridge so am willing to give it a shot. Wish me luck.
I know part of the problem is that I still have him in the co-sleeper next to our bed. It has made life so much easier for all the night-time feedings. I am not good at getting out of bed, so being able to simply lift him out, feed and burp him, and put him back in his little co-sleeper has been awesome. But those days may be coming to a close.
His crib is all set up in his room. We moved the babe out of her crib and into a big girl bed in February and she hasn't missed her crib at all. We lost a lot of control (she can now get out of bed any 'oll time she likes), but she was able to climb out of it which was a pretty good sign she was ready. We gave her some time to get used to the idea of "her" crib being moved into her little brother's room, and after a month of having both the crib and toddler bed stuffed in there, we moved the crib on out.
Now it may be time to move him into it. It is going to be hard and I foresee a lot of crying (both him and me). But perhaps there will be a way to combine the night weaning with the crib sleeping. I will get the doc's opinion and move forward. I need to do something as I am in a serious fog and it's really not healthy for me or the rest of my family.
In other news I'm off to a university alumni cocktail reception at the Canadian Embassy tonight. In 1996 I graduated with my BA Hons in pol sci from Concordia University in Montreal. Tonight the new President, Judith Woodsworth, will be in town to meet DC alum. I will be attending on my own without any children, which should be nice. I will also be expected to make intelligent conversation with adults, which I am dreading. Do I remember how to be a normal person in a social situation? Can I pull of wearing "business attire" after all these years in sweats and jeans? I have 9 ounces of pumped milk in the fridge so am willing to give it a shot. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
"I'm Me"
Much excitement in our life to report on. On Saturday we had an amazingly ideal flying experience from Washington to Montreal. The flight was on time, it was a beautiful day, the flight attendant was a sweet heart and no one was seated next to us. You can't ask for more, and I send my thanks to Air Canada.
We spent Saturday through Monday with my Mother in Law and had an awesome visit that included many of my favorite things (Montreal bagels, cafe mocha, and home made saag paneer, but not all at the same time). The babe and my Mother in Law (who she calls "Dadi Ma") get along famously and it was a real joy to watch them together. Despite the sore throat I woke up with on Sunday morning, it was awesome to be out in the burbs chasing after the babe in the outdoors (such a nice change from our urban living situation in DC).
Yesterday we drove to Ottawa with my Dad who was kind enough to make the morning trek from Ottawa to Montreal to pick us up in the good 'oll mini van. We had a very exciting "first" yesterday afternoon when the babe shared her first sentence with us. "I'm me." Profound words for a one and a half year old! I'm pretty jazzed about the development and am noticing new words spilling out of her at a much faster rate these days. For instance, instead of saying "waa" for water yesterday, she actually said "water" (after my Mom prompted her, but it still counts).
Now, to the real reason we are in Canada (other than seeing our loving family, of course). I signed myself up for a documentary workshop, Interventionist and Participatory Media, which is being offered by the Canadian Screen Training Center Summer Institute (even though it's freakin' cold here). I am seriously nervous about the whole thing as I have been on the Mommy brain track for a long time now and I'm not sure if I remember how to relate to other adults in a professional way, nor if I have the ability to intelligently participate in the course. I just need to remember who I used to be and hopefully I'll get some guts by tomorrow morning. It's my first three days away from the babe and it had to happen sooner or later. I'm ready to do my own thing for a bit, but am not so sure she's at the same place. Thank God she's got a loving Grandpa and Grandma to watch over her.
Wish us both luck!
We spent Saturday through Monday with my Mother in Law and had an awesome visit that included many of my favorite things (Montreal bagels, cafe mocha, and home made saag paneer, but not all at the same time). The babe and my Mother in Law (who she calls "Dadi Ma") get along famously and it was a real joy to watch them together. Despite the sore throat I woke up with on Sunday morning, it was awesome to be out in the burbs chasing after the babe in the outdoors (such a nice change from our urban living situation in DC).
Yesterday we drove to Ottawa with my Dad who was kind enough to make the morning trek from Ottawa to Montreal to pick us up in the good 'oll mini van. We had a very exciting "first" yesterday afternoon when the babe shared her first sentence with us. "I'm me." Profound words for a one and a half year old! I'm pretty jazzed about the development and am noticing new words spilling out of her at a much faster rate these days. For instance, instead of saying "waa" for water yesterday, she actually said "water" (after my Mom prompted her, but it still counts).
Now, to the real reason we are in Canada (other than seeing our loving family, of course). I signed myself up for a documentary workshop, Interventionist and Participatory Media, which is being offered by the Canadian Screen Training Center Summer Institute (even though it's freakin' cold here). I am seriously nervous about the whole thing as I have been on the Mommy brain track for a long time now and I'm not sure if I remember how to relate to other adults in a professional way, nor if I have the ability to intelligently participate in the course. I just need to remember who I used to be and hopefully I'll get some guts by tomorrow morning. It's my first three days away from the babe and it had to happen sooner or later. I'm ready to do my own thing for a bit, but am not so sure she's at the same place. Thank God she's got a loving Grandpa and Grandma to watch over her.
Wish us both luck!
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Going Home and Going Offline
The babe and I have just returned from a trip home to Canada. It was a wonderful visit that went by very quickly (it also felt like we were gone for a million years). I have made a few observations on the trip since my return (in no particular order):-It would appear as though I don't need the computer when I am surrounded by people and away from my regular routine. I barely checked email, didn't do any blogging, and rarely checked in with Facebook. I had people around every day and it was a nice change from the relatively solitary life the babe and I lead in Washington, D.C.
-It's amazing that it can take 6 adults to take care of a baby (last Sunday morning at my parents place), but when I'm at home alone, it takes only me (yesterday and today).
-There is just no way to see all the people you want to see, so there's no point in trying. I feel guilty about the folks I didn't have time to contact, but realize that when working with a baby's schedule, you really don't have a lot of flexibility.
-Flying alone with a baby is just not fun. Especially when you're surrounded by men who don't have much sympathy for a woman travelling with a squirming, scratching, crying baby.
-Diaper cream at night really does make a difference. As we were out of our routine, I stopped putting the cream on at night when I was getting the babe ready for bed (mostly because it was dark in the room and I couldn't see). Within a few days, she got diaper rash like I'd never seen before. I suppose my preventative cream use had been doing something after all.
-Webcams are awesome. We always talk to the babe's grandparents on the webcam from Washington. When we go to Canada, the babe seems to know who they are and warms to them almost automatically. Seeing the babe with her grandparents is truly a beautiful thing.
-No matter how hard I try, I will eventually revert to a less mature version of myself when I return to my parent's home. No offence to my husband, but I find that both of us have flare-ups of our former, younger selves, despite the fact that we're in our 30s, are married, and have a child. Maybe going home just reminds us of who we used to be, or maybe being with our parents makes us feel younger than we really are. I'm not sure why it happens, all I know is that it never appears to last because we return to our lives and turn back into the people we were before we left.
-I enjoy the space at my parents place immensely (both inside and outside). Their property backs on national parkland, or the "back 40" as my Dad always says. My father, the babe and I went on a marvelous walk last Friday and it was perfect. Just look at the picture. Who knows why I didn't appreciate it as a teenager. I'd love to have something similar for the babe one day. The "back 40" is pretty different from the alley way we currently have behind our home.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
I'm Just Not the Same Anymore
Last week my husband told me I smell. He said it in a nice way, like "honey, I know you've been working hard all day and it's hot outside, but you kinda smell." But really, there's no nice way of saying that. I could have laughed and agreed, but I took it personally and was a bit crappy about it for a while. I knew I needed to take a shower, but I just hadn't had the chance to.
I have been meaning to write about hygiene and looks for a long time. It's certainly not a big ticket item, but it's been on my mind all the same. There are days when I look at myself and wonder where the old me went. My idea of what is acceptable has certainly changed over the past 9 months. Many women return to the level of cleanliness and style they had before pregnancy, but at the rate I'm going, I wonder if I'll ever get back to what I used to be?
I used to shower and brush my teeth every morning and wash my hair every other day. I generally felt like a clean person. My current schedule is to brush my teeth by noon when I usually leave the house, wash my hair every 5 or so days (gross), and shower at night after the babe has gone to bed. It means I go to bed with that lovely fresh feeling, but by the early afternoon of the next day, that fresh feeling isn't so fresh anymore (especially with the summer we've just had). I know I could buck up and leave the babe in her pack n play if I need to shower in the day, but I really only do that if there is a dirty emergency (like having poo all over me, which has happened).
I used to think a bit about what I wore each day. I realize now I have worn sneakers and flip flops since the babe was born. I really don't go anywhere that would warrant anything different. Being a stay at home mom has led me to an existence of casual wear heaven. I have never been one who cares too much about these things, but part of me misses those days where I would wear a suit or put on heels (not big ones).
I also used to wear eye liner and mascara every day. It was just part of my face and I wouldn't think about leaving the house without it. It made me feel normal. Now I feel like an impostor when I put make up on. After 15 years of use, I don't recognize myself with it on anymore.
Perhaps when I eventually go back to the paid work force things will come rushing back to me, but for now, I guess I will just have to live with my smelly, casual self.
I have been meaning to write about hygiene and looks for a long time. It's certainly not a big ticket item, but it's been on my mind all the same. There are days when I look at myself and wonder where the old me went. My idea of what is acceptable has certainly changed over the past 9 months. Many women return to the level of cleanliness and style they had before pregnancy, but at the rate I'm going, I wonder if I'll ever get back to what I used to be?
I used to shower and brush my teeth every morning and wash my hair every other day. I generally felt like a clean person. My current schedule is to brush my teeth by noon when I usually leave the house, wash my hair every 5 or so days (gross), and shower at night after the babe has gone to bed. It means I go to bed with that lovely fresh feeling, but by the early afternoon of the next day, that fresh feeling isn't so fresh anymore (especially with the summer we've just had). I know I could buck up and leave the babe in her pack n play if I need to shower in the day, but I really only do that if there is a dirty emergency (like having poo all over me, which has happened).
I used to think a bit about what I wore each day. I realize now I have worn sneakers and flip flops since the babe was born. I really don't go anywhere that would warrant anything different. Being a stay at home mom has led me to an existence of casual wear heaven. I have never been one who cares too much about these things, but part of me misses those days where I would wear a suit or put on heels (not big ones).
I also used to wear eye liner and mascara every day. It was just part of my face and I wouldn't think about leaving the house without it. It made me feel normal. Now I feel like an impostor when I put make up on. After 15 years of use, I don't recognize myself with it on anymore.
Perhaps when I eventually go back to the paid work force things will come rushing back to me, but for now, I guess I will just have to live with my smelly, casual self.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Saving Your Identiy
I've been thinking a lot about identity. A new mom will no doubt go through a shift in how she sees herself. The world will also see her differently. How do we make sure we keep our old selves while adding motherhood on as a part of our identity? Do we lose who we used to be as we leap into motherhood? Or do we just keep parts of our old selves in tact and add on the new mommy identity? Are stay-at-home mothers more prone to this loss of identity because they have left the paid workforce?
I spend so much time with the babe I sometimes wonder if I am losing who I used to be. I am concerned about balance and keeping myself engaged in the real world. I admit that I have changed a lot since she was born, but I hope I still have those qualities (and faults) that made me who I used to be. I realize I need to be careful to not lose myself in the all consuming job of motherhood. As my wise father said to me recently, children will take as much of you as you let them. If you give 100% of yourself, they will take it. You have to make sure you watch out for your best interests because children will inevitably grow up and leave. Where will you be left if you gave everything to them?
As I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm reading Perfect Madness: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety. The most relevant thing I've read so far is related to the discussion around losing yourself in motherhood.
I spend so much time with the babe I sometimes wonder if I am losing who I used to be. I am concerned about balance and keeping myself engaged in the real world. I admit that I have changed a lot since she was born, but I hope I still have those qualities (and faults) that made me who I used to be. I realize I need to be careful to not lose myself in the all consuming job of motherhood. As my wise father said to me recently, children will take as much of you as you let them. If you give 100% of yourself, they will take it. You have to make sure you watch out for your best interests because children will inevitably grow up and leave. Where will you be left if you gave everything to them?
As I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm reading Perfect Madness: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety. The most relevant thing I've read so far is related to the discussion around losing yourself in motherhood.
"Too many of us now allow ourselves to be defined by motherhood and direct every ounce of our energy into our children. This sounds noble on the surface but in fact it's doing no one--not ourselves, or our children--any good. Because when we lose ourselves in mommy selves, we experience this loss as depression. When we disempower ourselves in our mommy selves, we experience this weakness as anxiety. When we desexualize ourselves in our mommy selves, it leads us to feel dead in our skin. All this places an undue burden upon our children. By making them the be-all-end-all of our lives, by breaking down the boundaries between ourselves and them so thoroughly, by giving them so much power within the family when they're very small, we risk overwhelming them psychologically and ill-preparing them, socially, for the world of other children and eventually, other adults." Page 55Well said! In terms of my own life, I admit I need to be more proactive in pursuing my interests and making time for myself. I keep saying I am going to do it, and keep not doing it. My husband and I have had many conversations about how I need to have time to myself so I can just be me and not someone's mommy. When I go out alone (which is rare), I feel like my old self, but different. I find it cool that people can look at me and not see a mommy. They just see me, and I like that. I am going to look into taking a yoga class on the weekends. By taking this time, I will work on something that I am interested in pursuing, while also giving myself a break from the non-stop job that is being a stay at home mother. It's back to school time, and for me, it's back to Christine time.
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