I am approaching my nine-year wedding anniversary, so the intense dynamics of wedding planning have become a distant, somewhat foggy memory.
It all came back to me recently when I got to work with Steve over at steveonomics.com to share his $1,000 wedding story.
Check it out on LearnVest: How I Did It: 'My Wedding Cost Less Than $1,000'
Did you manage to pull off a budget wedding? Please share your secrets!
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Friday, June 13, 2014
Saturday, March 15, 2014
My Failed Attempt at a Real Simple Essay Contest
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.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
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.
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.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
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.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Steak, Margaritas and Poop
To eat: Six ounce Fillet Mignon (cooked medium) with blue cheese crust served with garlic mashed potatoes and a side salad.
To drink: Two margaritas and some water.
That is a pretty ideal meal in my world. It is a meal I don't get at home. And sadly, it is a meal I only get when my family and I venture out for dinner together every five or six months. Last Saturday we decided we would take the chance and head out to the Outback for a family restaurant dinner.
There are numerous reasons we never go out to eat with our kids, and they include:
- The babe's food allergies make it scary
- The little guy acts like an animal
- My husband and I barely get to look at each other, let alone talk
- I have to eat WAY too fast as any second the scene could dramatically change and we will be leaving with take out containers instead of enjoying our hot meal
- It costs a lot of cash and I don't find it a particularly relaxing experience. Quite the opposite, I'd say.
Sadly we had to make a pit stop at the park near the babe's school as we had left her jean jacket there the day before. Jean jackets aren't cheap and I really wasn't ready to permanently part with it. Sadly that meant dealing with DC traffic and the always stressful Connecticut Avenue, which added a nice chunk of drive time for us.
We made it to the restaurant in one piece and managed to dodge quite a few potentially nasty children losing it type scenarios (example: my daughter is so competitive she was getting upset when my husband beat her at the tick tack toe game on the children's menu). Our food arrived and everyone seemed to be doing OK. The little guy, who has become a terrible eater lately, managed to eat all his burger and start demanding "more burger" from our poor waiter. The babe seemed more into her apple juice than her chicken. And my husband and I managed to polish off everything put in front of us, although in a seriously rushed fashion (I am a slow eater and eating fast really irks me).
Then it was time to take my juice consuming daughter to the bathroom (the ride home is a trek). We settled into one of the two stalls and the babe proceeded to have a good pee. When she didn't immediately finish up, my heart kinda sunk. "Oh No. She's not doing what I think she's doing, is she?" I panicked. The babe is extremely comfortable doing her business pretty much anywhere....public or private bathroom doesn't seem to phase her (probably because she's five and all). The line of people grew outside the door and I could tell the babe (and the person in the next stall) was in for a long session. I tried to encourage her along in a positive way, realizing everyone is the bathroom was listening to me babble on like a loon. After a few minutes I realized I couldn't chat anymore. I needed her to focus, and I told her so. I know you can't rush a pooping five-year-old, but man oh man, as people started leaving the bathroom out of annoyance, I also started to feel pretty annoyed. And I knew the little guy and my husband were probably starting to feel the same way.
By the time we made it back, we had been gone for over 25 minutes, which is longer that we had taken to "enjoy" our meals. The babe seemed pretty clueless about the whole situation but my husband and I automatically exchanged looks and discussed on our way to the car how we keep forgetting how stressed out we get going to restaurants with our kids.
Now maybe us parents need to chill out a bit, or maybe our kids don't get enough practice in public eating establishments, or maybe we should move to Europe so our kids can see how well behaved all those kids are in public. Regardless, I am fine with another six month break before we try that again. It just doesn't seem worth it to me, and if that makes me a negative, crotchety Mama, than so be it. I can wait for my steak.
Friday, April 13, 2012
How Was Your Spring Break?
The past week I have fielded many questions about spring break. The most popular question being, "how was your spring break?" I have been smiling and responding, "long." Depending on who I'm speaking to, they seem to either get it, or they don't.
Lot of families take advantage of the 12 day chunk and travel. We are not one of those families. We were here, out of our routine, for 12 long days. And that is why I have been responding the way I have. Because 12 days with 2 little kids out of their routine is a long time, no matter how you slice it. If that kind of thing doesn't phase you, than you are a better parent that I.
That said, we were lucky enough to get a spot for the babe at a very cool art camp at The Children's Art Studio that ran Monday through Friday. She loved it and I loved that she had something to focus her endless energy on for a nice 5 day spread.
By this past Monday, I was, however, wondering why Easter Monday really needs to be a holiday. It seems almost like cruel punishment to drag a break out like that. So by Tuesday, we were all rearing to go and jumped back into our routines with gusto.
The babe was psyched to see her peeps at school (yay!). The little guy was psyched to play with his nursery school buddies (yay!), and I served what will probably be my last co-op stint at his school (which made it easier to face since I wasn't exactly in the mood to play with 12 kids after having spent 12 days with my own 2 kids).
I don't think I will ever be the kind of Mom who enjoys things like spring and summer break, and I am OK with that. One thing's for sure, it certainly makes you appreciate the value of your regular routine.
And now that I have survived spring break, I can start stressing out about the summer. Because summer, my friends, is just around the corner.
Lot of families take advantage of the 12 day chunk and travel. We are not one of those families. We were here, out of our routine, for 12 long days. And that is why I have been responding the way I have. Because 12 days with 2 little kids out of their routine is a long time, no matter how you slice it. If that kind of thing doesn't phase you, than you are a better parent that I.
That said, we were lucky enough to get a spot for the babe at a very cool art camp at The Children's Art Studio that ran Monday through Friday. She loved it and I loved that she had something to focus her endless energy on for a nice 5 day spread.
By this past Monday, I was, however, wondering why Easter Monday really needs to be a holiday. It seems almost like cruel punishment to drag a break out like that. So by Tuesday, we were all rearing to go and jumped back into our routines with gusto.
The babe was psyched to see her peeps at school (yay!). The little guy was psyched to play with his nursery school buddies (yay!), and I served what will probably be my last co-op stint at his school (which made it easier to face since I wasn't exactly in the mood to play with 12 kids after having spent 12 days with my own 2 kids).
I don't think I will ever be the kind of Mom who enjoys things like spring and summer break, and I am OK with that. One thing's for sure, it certainly makes you appreciate the value of your regular routine.
And now that I have survived spring break, I can start stressing out about the summer. Because summer, my friends, is just around the corner.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
High Expectations
Wow. Where did that month go?
Well people, it's good to see you. I think of you often and can't wait for life to calm down so I can sit at my computer and type out my joys and sorrows.
I've recently realized that when you volunteer time, you have less of it. You may recall I have been serving as the editor of the little guy's preschool's newsletter and that I am also writing for our local community newsletter. These things take time, and when I agreed to take them on, I didn't really think about how it would effect my blogging. Apparently it has effected my blogging quite seriously.
So here I am. I have so many subjects I want to write about, I don't really know where to start. Instead of backtracking, I will start with today.
My dear Mother left for the airport this morning at 7am. She had come for a short visit and it went by so very fast...as her visits always do. While shuttling my kids to and fro this morning, I was struck by how badly I felt. You see, my kids were not well behaved during her visit and I was constantly feeling upset, stressed, embarrassed and frustrated. I felt like I had no control of my offspring and that I looked like a frantic, crazy Mama who was hanging on by a thread. And while some of that is certainly true, I know in my heart that the past few days were extreme because the kids had an audience (other than their parents). There were times when I was at a loss and just wanted to yell and scream, give up, turn on some "educational" TV and go hide in a hole. My Mom reassures me they were very well behaved whenever my husband and I were out of the house (like on our date night or our furniture shopping escapade). And while that makes me feel a bit better, why couldn't they have been like that when I was around?
During her visit, I asked my Mom a lot of questions about how she juggled all the craziness of having three small kids back in the day. She admits she doesn't remember all that much, but she did point out that she always worked part-time and that gave her a chance to get away from the house, socialize and work with adults (not spouses or relatives), and gain perspective on her family life. She encouraged me to get out of the house more and do things for myself. She also told me (in a nice way) that my life revolves around my kids.
When I sit down and look at my family's life, I will be the first to acknowledge that I am the one who is home and running the show the majority of the time. And without family back-up, there isn't much relief. Frankly, my life does revolve around my kids and I am not sure how I would be able to change that right now.
The two mornings I get alone when both of the little monsters are at school (3.5 hours a week (after drive time)!), I am pretty overrun with a hefty to do list. Frankly, there are just too many errands I am not willing to do with the little guy anymore because he has become such a fan of public meltdowns. And that means there are a lot of things to accomplish when he is not around!
But I am trying. I have actually been to a gym six times since late January (thanks to a Groupon deal). I get out to dinner or brunch with friends every few weeks. I took an anger management class for parents (which made a ton of sense in theory but is proving rather difficult to implement in reality). And I just started a leadership training course at PEP (the Parent Encouragement Program) which offers the parenting classes I've been taking over the past year. Now seriously, what else can a girl fit in??
Anyway, I'm babbling a bit here but I just had to share my frustration over the constant stress of being a stay-at-home parent of a challenging five year old and a defiant, moody and physically abusive three old. I used to complain that babies were tough (which of course they are--especially the grueling sleep deprivation and loss of self), but man oh man, it's nothing compared to the physical, emotional and mental demands I now face daily. And when everything gets even more ramped up during a five day visit from Nana, it certainly forces me to ask: "why is this (parenthood) so freakin hard and how do I make this (parenthood) better?"
My solution for today was to rush to the gym, run on a treadmill for 25 minutes, sit in a hot sauna for 10 minutes, and buy an overpriced fancy latte before grabbing a few groceries and rushing to pick up the little guy at preschool. Endorphins combined with caffeine can be a pretty awesome thing. It certainly help put things in perspective this morning.
My Mom mentioned that perhaps Mothers today are too hard on themselves. Our expectations and standards are too high and we set ourselves up for failure because there is no way we can achieve our lofty goals. There could be some truth to this. But is it too much to ask to just have kids who listen and don't give you attitude or physically attack you when they don't get their way? Is that really asking too much? And if I am embarassed by my kids crazy behavior because I take it as a reflection on my parenting abilities, does that mean I am being too hard on myself? The truth is, I just don't know.
Well people, it's good to see you. I think of you often and can't wait for life to calm down so I can sit at my computer and type out my joys and sorrows.
I've recently realized that when you volunteer time, you have less of it. You may recall I have been serving as the editor of the little guy's preschool's newsletter and that I am also writing for our local community newsletter. These things take time, and when I agreed to take them on, I didn't really think about how it would effect my blogging. Apparently it has effected my blogging quite seriously.
So here I am. I have so many subjects I want to write about, I don't really know where to start. Instead of backtracking, I will start with today.
My dear Mother left for the airport this morning at 7am. She had come for a short visit and it went by so very fast...as her visits always do. While shuttling my kids to and fro this morning, I was struck by how badly I felt. You see, my kids were not well behaved during her visit and I was constantly feeling upset, stressed, embarrassed and frustrated. I felt like I had no control of my offspring and that I looked like a frantic, crazy Mama who was hanging on by a thread. And while some of that is certainly true, I know in my heart that the past few days were extreme because the kids had an audience (other than their parents). There were times when I was at a loss and just wanted to yell and scream, give up, turn on some "educational" TV and go hide in a hole. My Mom reassures me they were very well behaved whenever my husband and I were out of the house (like on our date night or our furniture shopping escapade). And while that makes me feel a bit better, why couldn't they have been like that when I was around?
During her visit, I asked my Mom a lot of questions about how she juggled all the craziness of having three small kids back in the day. She admits she doesn't remember all that much, but she did point out that she always worked part-time and that gave her a chance to get away from the house, socialize and work with adults (not spouses or relatives), and gain perspective on her family life. She encouraged me to get out of the house more and do things for myself. She also told me (in a nice way) that my life revolves around my kids.
When I sit down and look at my family's life, I will be the first to acknowledge that I am the one who is home and running the show the majority of the time. And without family back-up, there isn't much relief. Frankly, my life does revolve around my kids and I am not sure how I would be able to change that right now.
The two mornings I get alone when both of the little monsters are at school (3.5 hours a week (after drive time)!), I am pretty overrun with a hefty to do list. Frankly, there are just too many errands I am not willing to do with the little guy anymore because he has become such a fan of public meltdowns. And that means there are a lot of things to accomplish when he is not around!
But I am trying. I have actually been to a gym six times since late January (thanks to a Groupon deal). I get out to dinner or brunch with friends every few weeks. I took an anger management class for parents (which made a ton of sense in theory but is proving rather difficult to implement in reality). And I just started a leadership training course at PEP (the Parent Encouragement Program) which offers the parenting classes I've been taking over the past year. Now seriously, what else can a girl fit in??
Anyway, I'm babbling a bit here but I just had to share my frustration over the constant stress of being a stay-at-home parent of a challenging five year old and a defiant, moody and physically abusive three old. I used to complain that babies were tough (which of course they are--especially the grueling sleep deprivation and loss of self), but man oh man, it's nothing compared to the physical, emotional and mental demands I now face daily. And when everything gets even more ramped up during a five day visit from Nana, it certainly forces me to ask: "why is this (parenthood) so freakin hard and how do I make this (parenthood) better?"
My solution for today was to rush to the gym, run on a treadmill for 25 minutes, sit in a hot sauna for 10 minutes, and buy an overpriced fancy latte before grabbing a few groceries and rushing to pick up the little guy at preschool. Endorphins combined with caffeine can be a pretty awesome thing. It certainly help put things in perspective this morning.
My Mom mentioned that perhaps Mothers today are too hard on themselves. Our expectations and standards are too high and we set ourselves up for failure because there is no way we can achieve our lofty goals. There could be some truth to this. But is it too much to ask to just have kids who listen and don't give you attitude or physically attack you when they don't get their way? Is that really asking too much? And if I am embarassed by my kids crazy behavior because I take it as a reflection on my parenting abilities, does that mean I am being too hard on myself? The truth is, I just don't know.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Sweet, Sweet, Saturday and Sullen, Snotty Sunday
It was bliss. Last Saturday was a postcard Saturday. It was the kind of summer Saturday I used to dream of having. A perfect day. A lovely sleep in. Well behaved children. Drinks on the patio under our new umbrella. Kids playing in the kiddie pool and sliding into the water with glee. BBQ dinner. Good conversation. Many laughs. Many smiles. All around great vibes.
As my husband said on Sunday though, I suppose we had such a lovely time that we have to pay for it now. Sunday was one of those days I never used to dream of having. The kids were cranky and misbehaved. In fact, the babe even screamed that she is going to be a better Mother than me when she grows up. Keep in mind this was as I was loading her into the car for a morning play date at the park (what kind of Mother does that, anyway?). I shut the car door and announced to the empty streets that I hope my daughter IS a better Mama than me one day. Always room for improvement.
My husband and I were wiped out. It was hot and muggy. We ended up canceling our planned trip to the Outback Steakhouse because the babe had pushed us too far. We even cancelled dessert and story time for good measure. And for some strange reason the kids weren't as into the US vs Japan soccer game as my husband and I were. Overall, it was not a feel good day. I was totally ready for Monday when it came.
Sadly Monday came and the misery continued. It is amazing that one child's behavior has the ability to knock the rest of the family from their feel good place, but there it is. I can only hope that my continued efforts to get through to my little girl will eventually succeed.
Not sure if it's the fact that we're facing the last week of summer school, or the fact that it is truly miserably hot and humid, but we need to figure out a way for the babe to be happy so the rest of us can be happy, because I am not interested in being held hostage by her extreme moodiness, lack of respect and inability to listen to simple instructions. I understand children need to test limits, but I am getting tired of upholding them all the time.
All that said, I do try and remind myself, just as she reminded us the other day, the babe is, after all, only four and a half. I don't remember what it's like to be that age, but I assume it must be a mix of awesome and terrible. At the end of the day, I truly hope I can recreate more sweet, sweet Saturdays and help us all find some inner peace. Ideas are always welcome!
As my husband said on Sunday though, I suppose we had such a lovely time that we have to pay for it now. Sunday was one of those days I never used to dream of having. The kids were cranky and misbehaved. In fact, the babe even screamed that she is going to be a better Mother than me when she grows up. Keep in mind this was as I was loading her into the car for a morning play date at the park (what kind of Mother does that, anyway?). I shut the car door and announced to the empty streets that I hope my daughter IS a better Mama than me one day. Always room for improvement.
My husband and I were wiped out. It was hot and muggy. We ended up canceling our planned trip to the Outback Steakhouse because the babe had pushed us too far. We even cancelled dessert and story time for good measure. And for some strange reason the kids weren't as into the US vs Japan soccer game as my husband and I were. Overall, it was not a feel good day. I was totally ready for Monday when it came.
Sadly Monday came and the misery continued. It is amazing that one child's behavior has the ability to knock the rest of the family from their feel good place, but there it is. I can only hope that my continued efforts to get through to my little girl will eventually succeed.
Not sure if it's the fact that we're facing the last week of summer school, or the fact that it is truly miserably hot and humid, but we need to figure out a way for the babe to be happy so the rest of us can be happy, because I am not interested in being held hostage by her extreme moodiness, lack of respect and inability to listen to simple instructions. I understand children need to test limits, but I am getting tired of upholding them all the time.
All that said, I do try and remind myself, just as she reminded us the other day, the babe is, after all, only four and a half. I don't remember what it's like to be that age, but I assume it must be a mix of awesome and terrible. At the end of the day, I truly hope I can recreate more sweet, sweet Saturdays and help us all find some inner peace. Ideas are always welcome!
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Thanks, Mom!
My last post was thanking my husband. This one is to thank my Mom.
When I heard my husband would be leaving town for work for 10 to 14 days I had a bit of a panic attack. That is really beyond the amount of time I feel comfortable being a single parent. So I called my Mom and subtly let her know that she would be more than welcome to come down for a visit.
She immediately went online, found a good flight on points, and after calling back to check, went ahead and booked an 8 day stay. And what a joy it was to have her with us for the past week. As she said this morning over our last shared coffee of the visit, the days were long but the week flew by. I told her I think that's what it's like when you hang out with little people so much.
In the time she was here we managed to go swimming, to numerous parks, and to a puppet show. I also managed to have a massage (at the budget training school near my home), to go clothes shopping, and to go grocery shopping all by myself. Not only that, but we also booked a babysitter on Saturday night and went for a fabulous Italian meal at DeCarlo's Restaurant in DC.
I was exhausted and overwhelmed when she arrived, and I am blessed to have a Mom who swooped in and helped with all the details of life with my kids. The cooking, the cleaning, the playing and the general tickidy boom of the house hold went so much smoother because she was here.
I am lucky to have such a great Mom. And I am grateful we enjoy each others company so much.
She flew back to Canada today and we will miss her. But guess who arrives from Canada tomorrow? My Mother in Law! We have back to back coverage and the kids and I are blessed. As my husband said the morning he flew home from his most recent business trip, "I love my family."
When I heard my husband would be leaving town for work for 10 to 14 days I had a bit of a panic attack. That is really beyond the amount of time I feel comfortable being a single parent. So I called my Mom and subtly let her know that she would be more than welcome to come down for a visit.
She immediately went online, found a good flight on points, and after calling back to check, went ahead and booked an 8 day stay. And what a joy it was to have her with us for the past week. As she said this morning over our last shared coffee of the visit, the days were long but the week flew by. I told her I think that's what it's like when you hang out with little people so much.
In the time she was here we managed to go swimming, to numerous parks, and to a puppet show. I also managed to have a massage (at the budget training school near my home), to go clothes shopping, and to go grocery shopping all by myself. Not only that, but we also booked a babysitter on Saturday night and went for a fabulous Italian meal at DeCarlo's Restaurant in DC.
I was exhausted and overwhelmed when she arrived, and I am blessed to have a Mom who swooped in and helped with all the details of life with my kids. The cooking, the cleaning, the playing and the general tickidy boom of the house hold went so much smoother because she was here.
I am lucky to have such a great Mom. And I am grateful we enjoy each others company so much.
She flew back to Canada today and we will miss her. But guess who arrives from Canada tomorrow? My Mother in Law! We have back to back coverage and the kids and I are blessed. As my husband said the morning he flew home from his most recent business trip, "I love my family."
Friday, May 6, 2011
Our House
Over Easter, our new house had the chance to show off a bit. My parents, sister, brother and sister-no-law came down from Canada for a visit. Our house got to hold 9 of us over several days of eating, drinking, playing and generally having a lovely time.
It was the first time I have been able to have my whole family together in my own home, and it felt so nice. I now frequently remind myself of my Dad's kind words: "You have arrived."
So thanks to my family and thanks to my house. I love you all.
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