December 9, 2008
September 9, 2008
Don't See, Mommy
I'm sitting quietly at the dining room table, having just eaten a wonderfully terrible lunch (wendy's, and a cupcake from the Preschooler's half-birthday). Reading my email, catching up on blogs, allowing myself to get sucked into the time sink that is facebook. You see, the Baby is asleep, and P. is watching Backyardigans in her playroom while doing... something. I don't know what, and I'm really happy about this, this freedom to leave her to her own devices and trust that she won't hurt herself or one of her posessions.
It's been hard-won, this independence. It started with me being exhausted in that special progesterone-induced drowse that only a viable pregnancy can induce. P. would bounce around me trying to get me to entertain her and I would plead "please, just draw for a few minutes while I rest". Desperate not to blame The Baby for my inaction.
It continued with me being exhausted from baby induced sleep-deprivation. Trying to fit in breastfeeding/pumping/eating/resting into my day along with P. entertaining was a herculean feat. P. gradually learned that we would love it, really, if she would just ... figure out something to do. She could turn on her DVD player by herself (I dare you to criticize, you who haven't walked in MY shoes), get her crayons/paper out herself, get her puzzles out herself; as long as she didn't wake the Baby or wake a sleeping Mommy, she was free to roam.
Like right now, she's jumping up and down and dancing with the Backyardigans, quietly, sweetly....
"crack".
"What just happened, P.?"
"Don't see, Mommy!" < sounds of strumming >
Translation: I know I was doing something stupid and I don't want you to come in and be disappointed in me so if you don't see, it never happened.
Oh P, I don't have to see. I know. You were jumping up and down on your < insert breakable instrument here>, and it's cracked.
It's been hard-won, this independence. It started with me being exhausted in that special progesterone-induced drowse that only a viable pregnancy can induce. P. would bounce around me trying to get me to entertain her and I would plead "please, just draw for a few minutes while I rest". Desperate not to blame The Baby for my inaction.
It continued with me being exhausted from baby induced sleep-deprivation. Trying to fit in breastfeeding/pumping/eating/resting into my day along with P. entertaining was a herculean feat. P. gradually learned that we would love it, really, if she would just ... figure out something to do. She could turn on her DVD player by herself (I dare you to criticize, you who haven't walked in MY shoes), get her crayons/paper out herself, get her puzzles out herself; as long as she didn't wake the Baby or wake a sleeping Mommy, she was free to roam.
Like right now, she's jumping up and down and dancing with the Backyardigans, quietly, sweetly....
"crack".
"What just happened, P.?"
"Don't see, Mommy!" < sounds of strumming >
Translation: I know I was doing something stupid and I don't want you to come in and be disappointed in me so if you don't see, it never happened.
Oh P, I don't have to see. I know. You were jumping up and down on your < insert breakable instrument here>, and it's cracked.
September 5, 2008
Oops I did it again
Aaaaand it's September. There was a headlong rush from the end of July to now -- filled with summer camp, many weekends on Cape Cod, and a camping trip to New Hampshire. Let' s not forget the DNC (yeah!) and the RNC (BOO!) (Which reminds me: put a sock in it). I discovered facebook at some point this summer and really got sucked into it in August. Then I poke my head up from the explosion of packed/unpacked STUFF in my living room and notice, holy shit, today is my 10th wedding anniversary!
I am learning that my lack of posts generally coincides with my general dissatisfaction with my life (for lack of a better phrase), and not really with my level of busyness. Let's face it, life with 2 kids under 5 is always busy, so I can't blame not posting on that! Rather, I just don't have anything "nice" to say. Or at least, I really don't find kvetching/bitching about my current state of affairs very interesting. Feel free to correct me, and quote my past complaining.
Okay, so what am I not whining about here? Well, Budgets. And Hemmorhaging Money to moving/children/fuel oil. The wash/rinse/repeat life of a SAHM. That moving has napalmed my social life. Struggling to add my 5 years out of the paid workforce in a meaningful way to my resume. Finding confidence in my ability to be a worker someone would want to pay to do something *I* want to do -- and that's not Insurance Sales. There are some people in my life who made the choice not to have kids (hear that Sarah Palin? CHOICE), and I find myself in serious envy of that decision. Do not get all jumpy, I love my daughters, but sometimes, I wish I had my disposable income/time back.
See? So very uninteresting.
I am learning that my lack of posts generally coincides with my general dissatisfaction with my life (for lack of a better phrase), and not really with my level of busyness. Let's face it, life with 2 kids under 5 is always busy, so I can't blame not posting on that! Rather, I just don't have anything "nice" to say. Or at least, I really don't find kvetching/bitching about my current state of affairs very interesting. Feel free to correct me, and quote my past complaining.
Okay, so what am I not whining about here? Well, Budgets. And Hemmorhaging Money to moving/children/fuel oil. The wash/rinse/repeat life of a SAHM. That moving has napalmed my social life. Struggling to add my 5 years out of the paid workforce in a meaningful way to my resume. Finding confidence in my ability to be a worker someone would want to pay to do something *I* want to do -- and that's not Insurance Sales. There are some people in my life who made the choice not to have kids (hear that Sarah Palin? CHOICE), and I find myself in serious envy of that decision. Do not get all jumpy, I love my daughters, but sometimes, I wish I had my disposable income/time back.
See? So very uninteresting.
July 31, 2008
Lessons
So we all know that "kids grow up too fast" and that we should "enjoy them at each age". Someone will say that and everyone standing within conversational radius will nod sagely. Nevermind that I've almost never agreed with this -- it's at best an admonition that you are thinking too negatively about what's happening (Johnny biting his friend? Don't worry, enjoy it. He's just expressing his frustration.). At worst, it's a desire to keep them from learning new things, to forever chain them to your side and screw them up.
What I've learned lately, from having the Baby, is that "kids grow up" (except when they don't). "Of course they do," I hear you saying. "What the hell are you going on about now?"
Well. With the Preschooler, I didn't know that kids grow up. I knew that she would get bigger, I knew that she'd learn to read, I knew that she'd learn to press my buttons. But I didn't KNOW, that like a helium balloon adrift in the sky, she would continue inexorably on with or without my input. I felt more like she was ball on a slight incline, that I needed to constantly nudge uphill and keep from rolling back. Constant vigilance.
Then B. came along, and suddenly we were in the midst of reflux and food intolerances. When I let go of the crushing disappointment of not being able to breastfeed B., I had a freeing, calming, wonderful epiphany: This too shall pass. B will grow up. She'll learn to eat. Her gut will learn to tolerate food. She's on the path. I don't know any 20 year olds (who haven't had some traumatic injury) who don't use the toilet, feed themselves, know some social interaction strategies.
Think about it -- most of the people you deal with in your life are adults. They don't change much. They are what and who they are already; they're fairly predictable. If you're thinking about friends you've known since you were kids yourselves, you changed and grew along with them and so probably didn't notice the changes that were going on. Nothing really prepares us for the reality of kids. They're little cameleons. Trying things out, learning what's acceptable and what's not. They're change artists.
And so you can get seriously wrapped up in the minutiae of raising them. You're cruising along for a few weeks or months with a status quo, and suddenly the cameleon pops out a new color. Most often out in public, when you are totally unprepared. (Ever seen a parent staring at their child as if it has suddenly sprouted two heads? Yes, I said "it".) You spin your wheels for a few days: "What the fuck is going on? Something's different. Why is it happening?" Then it hits you. "Oh, we're wearing a new color. Shit." And "Wait! I liked the old color! It was predictable, dependable, cute." Finally, "Right. Time to find the complementary Parent color."
What was I talking about? Oh yeah. They grow up. If you don't like a color, just wait, stay consistent. A new one will come out soon enough.
What I've learned lately, from having the Baby, is that "kids grow up" (except when they don't). "Of course they do," I hear you saying. "What the hell are you going on about now?"
Well. With the Preschooler, I didn't know that kids grow up. I knew that she would get bigger, I knew that she'd learn to read, I knew that she'd learn to press my buttons. But I didn't KNOW, that like a helium balloon adrift in the sky, she would continue inexorably on with or without my input. I felt more like she was ball on a slight incline, that I needed to constantly nudge uphill and keep from rolling back. Constant vigilance.
Then B. came along, and suddenly we were in the midst of reflux and food intolerances. When I let go of the crushing disappointment of not being able to breastfeed B., I had a freeing, calming, wonderful epiphany: This too shall pass. B will grow up. She'll learn to eat. Her gut will learn to tolerate food. She's on the path. I don't know any 20 year olds (who haven't had some traumatic injury) who don't use the toilet, feed themselves, know some social interaction strategies.
Think about it -- most of the people you deal with in your life are adults. They don't change much. They are what and who they are already; they're fairly predictable. If you're thinking about friends you've known since you were kids yourselves, you changed and grew along with them and so probably didn't notice the changes that were going on. Nothing really prepares us for the reality of kids. They're little cameleons. Trying things out, learning what's acceptable and what's not. They're change artists.
And so you can get seriously wrapped up in the minutiae of raising them. You're cruising along for a few weeks or months with a status quo, and suddenly the cameleon pops out a new color. Most often out in public, when you are totally unprepared. (Ever seen a parent staring at their child as if it has suddenly sprouted two heads? Yes, I said "it".) You spin your wheels for a few days: "What the fuck is going on? Something's different. Why is it happening?" Then it hits you. "Oh, we're wearing a new color. Shit." And "Wait! I liked the old color! It was predictable, dependable, cute." Finally, "Right. Time to find the complementary Parent color."
What was I talking about? Oh yeah. They grow up. If you don't like a color, just wait, stay consistent. A new one will come out soon enough.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
