I never feel like a super mom. I am my toughest critic and I am more judgmental of myself than anyone else. I am constantly apologizing to Jelani for the lack of cleanliness around here, as though it is my fault Isaac is teething and fussing at me during 90% of his awake hours. To his credit, he always looks at me like I'm absolutely ridiculous and tells me, "Stop apologizing for life."
But you get my point. I feel like a failure most of the day. I have realized though, that there are times when I am super mom. I can go to the bathroom, shower, put my contacts in (or out, depending on the time of day), and brush my teeth in less than 10 minutes. And that includes the dentist recommended 2 minutes of brushing. I can strip Isaac down to his diaper while carrying him up the stairs to minimize the amount of poop to touch his clothing. I can teach Kindergarten to Elijah while reading a story to Chastity while breastfeeding Isaac. And possibly the most impressive, when Jelani has to go to church before us to practice with the worship team, I can get myself and all three kids bathed, dressed, fed, and in the car in less than an hour.
The common denominator in all of this is sleep. But it isn't what you think. I was on the ball back in September. I had a new baby, I was homeschooling for the first time, and I was averaging 4 to 5 hours of sleep a night. It was expected. It was consistent. And my days, and nights had a rhythm to them. Believe it or not, the kryptonite was the sleep itself. Somewhere around 3 or 4 months, Isaac began consistently sleeping all the way through the night. It was a dream come true, but once you grab a hold of that kryptonite, it is hard to let go, and it weakened me.
Only two months later, Isaac began teething, and eating solid foods, and suddenly forgot how to sleep through the night. By association, I forgot how to live without sleeping through the night. My super powers were diminished by my suddenly inconsistent sleep patterns. Now Isaac sometimes wakes at 4 am, sometimes at 6. Sometimes he's up at 11pm, 4am, and 6am. He's all over the place and my dream was snatched right out of my hands. I can't even remember any more how I once functioned that way, and it is tearing apart my organized daily schedule.
Now, instead of getting Isaac to the changing table, mess-free, I find poop on my hands as well as his clothes, and in his hair. Now, Elijah's video lessons are taking over and he's seeing more of those and less of me because I've forgotten how to manage my time. Now I find I'm losing myself in meaningless apps and games just to keep myself awake, while I have to hold a fussing squirming baby. And lastly, rather than my 10 minutes in and out of the bathroom, I find myself spazzing out at the shower curtain while it continuously moves in on me, attacking me (that sneaky, slimy, no good, curtain).
Sleep has weakened me. It was my shiny green kryptonite which looked like a beautiful emerald I just had to have. It was given to me and then snatched away, only to be dangled in front of my face, just out of reach. My super mom skills have slowly diminished since touching it.
So if you find me misusing words, or notice an unusual amount of typos in my posts here or on facebook, or if I'm unusually emotional or irrational, or if I just seem a little bit off, remember I have been poisoned by aliens and I've temporarily lost my cape.
Wait. Huh?
Yeah.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Monday, April 22, 2013
Letter to my Teenagers
You know how a song from your past can take you back to a moment in time, reminding you of joys and pains long forgotten? Or maybe it's just me? Last weekend, I found a CD I had made for my little sister for a high school graduation present. It was meant to be our soundtrack. It turned into two CDs by the time I put together all of the meaningful songs of our childhood, from the lullabys our dad used to sing to us to the awful rap music we used to drive around listening to out of our parents' earshot. It was the Peeper and Ernie Soundtrack, inspired by our childhood nicknames.
I was joyriding along in my new-to-me mini van (any ride when you can listen to your own music is a joyride) bumping down Main Street in Buffalo when Jay-Z's Can I Get a... came on next. And the most ridiculous thing happened to me. I began giggling and crying all at the same time. Jay-Z...Can I Get a... It is not a song I advise listening to, nor is it, by any means sentimental, or heartwarming. But there I was, thumping down Main Street in my mini van, with three (empty, mind you) car seats in the back, giggling uncontrollably with tears streaming down my face.
Music can do that to you. Heart breaks long ago healed, bitterness and anger forgotten, and distant joy hidden in your memory can be stirred up instantly with just a few notes. There are songs to this day that I can't stand because they remind me of past relationships, past hurts and betrayals, and broken hearts. I have long since moved on, but those pains were at one time very real, and it is no fun remembering feeling that way. On the other hand there are songs which can stir up happy and joyful memories I had somehow forgotten. Yet even the joyful memories can bring a tear to your eye just in knowing those days are long gone and realizing how quickly time passes.
In listening to this soundtrack of my sister's and my childhood, I experienced a flood of emotions. And remembering, for mere minutes, what it was like to be a teenager, what it was like to feel every emotion with the strength of the world's most powerful magnifying glass, taught me something.
It is so easy for adults to forget what it was like. It's so easy for adults to cast teenagers aside as immature, irrational, or emotional, because it is so easy for us to forget what that was once like; to have all of the emotions and passions of an adult with little knowledge, patience, or discipline in how to handle them.
I do not have teenagers yet, but I know that as quickly as I went from teenager to mother of three, I will, so I want this written down while it's most fresh in my brain.
Dear teenagers of mine,
I will always tell you I love you, no matter how annoying you may find it. Trust me, one day, you will hold your own child, and understand that.
I will never have a favorite child. That may be hard to understand if you're feeling a little left out from time to time, but it's true. You are each a product of your dad and his family, and me and mine, and so naturally I may have more in common with one of you, or I may even understand one of you better because your characteristics and demeanor most resemble mine, but commonality does not equal love. My love for each of you is constant. It may manifest differently in trying to connect with you, but it is unconditional and ever lasting.
I will always show you trust and respect, as long as you show me the same. You will have the appropriate amount of privacy, but understand, at your age, it is much less than you would like. It is not because I don't trust you. But allow me to help protect you from your own emotions. It is hard to feel all that you feel, and it is hard to know what to do under emotional circumstances. While I will have to let you make many of your own decisions as you get older, use me to help you navigate. I have been there, and I can help you avoid making some of the same mistakes I made, if you will be honest with me. When in doubt, always pray. If it is something you don't think you can even talk to me or your dad about, God is there, and He knows it anyway. Speak with Him.
I will never discredit your feelings, and if you feel that I am, let's talk about it. You are dealing with a lot of emotions, and you can talk to me about anything. You think I won't understand, and maybe I will struggle with that some, but I promise to always try. I promise, that every so often when I'm having difficulty understanding everything you're going through, I will refer back to the music of my teenage years and let Jay-Z, N'SYNC, and Mariah Carey (to name a few) remind me (stop laughing at how old I am or I'll make you listen to them too). ((Ok, maaaaaaaaybe not Jay-Z. In fact, don't ever listen to Jay-Z))
I will always encourage time together as a family. You may not always remember why, but we all love each other and God put us together for a reason. Elijah and Chastity, just remember, you are not far removed from when you once pooped in the bathroom together and checked each other's booties for traces of poop after wiping. You can't fake that kind of closeness, so embrace it. Families who poop together, stay together. You had each other's backs then. Let's keep it that way.
I vow to try not to make fun of your music, if you will try not to make fun of mine. I remember well what it was like to have my own tunes I wanted to listen to. I experimented with music as a kid too. All I ask is that you remain constant in the Lord first and foremost, and if the worst you do is occasionally listen to some rap crap along the way, I will do my best not to give you a hard time about it, and trust and that you won't allow those songs to influence your decisions.
I promise not to write any more embarrassing things about you in this letter. I can make no such promises for the future. It is those embarrassing quirks which make us the family we are, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Love,
Your super cool, mini van driving, crocheting, cake baking, wacky dancing, blog writing, mommy (always mommy)
I was joyriding along in my new-to-me mini van (any ride when you can listen to your own music is a joyride) bumping down Main Street in Buffalo when Jay-Z's Can I Get a... came on next. And the most ridiculous thing happened to me. I began giggling and crying all at the same time. Jay-Z...Can I Get a... It is not a song I advise listening to, nor is it, by any means sentimental, or heartwarming. But there I was, thumping down Main Street in my mini van, with three (empty, mind you) car seats in the back, giggling uncontrollably with tears streaming down my face.
Music can do that to you. Heart breaks long ago healed, bitterness and anger forgotten, and distant joy hidden in your memory can be stirred up instantly with just a few notes. There are songs to this day that I can't stand because they remind me of past relationships, past hurts and betrayals, and broken hearts. I have long since moved on, but those pains were at one time very real, and it is no fun remembering feeling that way. On the other hand there are songs which can stir up happy and joyful memories I had somehow forgotten. Yet even the joyful memories can bring a tear to your eye just in knowing those days are long gone and realizing how quickly time passes.
In listening to this soundtrack of my sister's and my childhood, I experienced a flood of emotions. And remembering, for mere minutes, what it was like to be a teenager, what it was like to feel every emotion with the strength of the world's most powerful magnifying glass, taught me something.
It is so easy for adults to forget what it was like. It's so easy for adults to cast teenagers aside as immature, irrational, or emotional, because it is so easy for us to forget what that was once like; to have all of the emotions and passions of an adult with little knowledge, patience, or discipline in how to handle them.
I do not have teenagers yet, but I know that as quickly as I went from teenager to mother of three, I will, so I want this written down while it's most fresh in my brain.
Dear teenagers of mine,
I will always tell you I love you, no matter how annoying you may find it. Trust me, one day, you will hold your own child, and understand that.
I will never have a favorite child. That may be hard to understand if you're feeling a little left out from time to time, but it's true. You are each a product of your dad and his family, and me and mine, and so naturally I may have more in common with one of you, or I may even understand one of you better because your characteristics and demeanor most resemble mine, but commonality does not equal love. My love for each of you is constant. It may manifest differently in trying to connect with you, but it is unconditional and ever lasting.
I will always show you trust and respect, as long as you show me the same. You will have the appropriate amount of privacy, but understand, at your age, it is much less than you would like. It is not because I don't trust you. But allow me to help protect you from your own emotions. It is hard to feel all that you feel, and it is hard to know what to do under emotional circumstances. While I will have to let you make many of your own decisions as you get older, use me to help you navigate. I have been there, and I can help you avoid making some of the same mistakes I made, if you will be honest with me. When in doubt, always pray. If it is something you don't think you can even talk to me or your dad about, God is there, and He knows it anyway. Speak with Him.
I will never discredit your feelings, and if you feel that I am, let's talk about it. You are dealing with a lot of emotions, and you can talk to me about anything. You think I won't understand, and maybe I will struggle with that some, but I promise to always try. I promise, that every so often when I'm having difficulty understanding everything you're going through, I will refer back to the music of my teenage years and let Jay-Z, N'SYNC, and Mariah Carey (to name a few) remind me (stop laughing at how old I am or I'll make you listen to them too). ((Ok, maaaaaaaaybe not Jay-Z. In fact, don't ever listen to Jay-Z))
I will always encourage time together as a family. You may not always remember why, but we all love each other and God put us together for a reason. Elijah and Chastity, just remember, you are not far removed from when you once pooped in the bathroom together and checked each other's booties for traces of poop after wiping. You can't fake that kind of closeness, so embrace it. Families who poop together, stay together. You had each other's backs then. Let's keep it that way.
I vow to try not to make fun of your music, if you will try not to make fun of mine. I remember well what it was like to have my own tunes I wanted to listen to. I experimented with music as a kid too. All I ask is that you remain constant in the Lord first and foremost, and if the worst you do is occasionally listen to some rap crap along the way, I will do my best not to give you a hard time about it, and trust and that you won't allow those songs to influence your decisions.
I promise not to write any more embarrassing things about you in this letter. I can make no such promises for the future. It is those embarrassing quirks which make us the family we are, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Love,
Your super cool, mini van driving, crocheting, cake baking, wacky dancing, blog writing, mommy (always mommy)
Friday, April 12, 2013
Daughter Dilemma
My daughter is beautiful.
I'm not being vain here. It has very little to do with me. Other than providing her with a place to grow, I did not create her. God did, so yes, I think it is ok for me to state that she is undeniably beautiful.
She will be 4 years old next month, but it is never too early to begin thinking about how we will run off the boys. Jelani wants to take notes from Will Smith in the movie Bad Boys 2 and answer the door in a wife-beater tank, looking crazy, screaming, "I ain't afraid to go back to jail!" Where as my brainstorming has taken a more practical direction.
Chastity has this amazing, innocent quality about her, which causes her to be honest about everything. She will pass gas like a champ and follow it up by yelling, "I pooted! Excuse me!" Often, when they are like chain reaction poots, pop pop popping out, we'll hear, "I pooted. Excuse me. I pooted. Excuse me. Ipootedexcuseme!" There is the lesser known, sister phrase as well, "I burped. Excuse me."
Then, yesterday before nap time she said, "Mommy, can I tell you something?"
"Sure," I answered.
"Yesterday, I picked my nose."
"Uh, well..."
"I ate my booger. It tasted weird."
"You ate your booger?!"
"Yes!"
"Are you just kidding?" I asked, hopefully.
"No. I really ate it. And it got stuck on my teeth. And that was funny." (Insert goofy, giggly grin here)
It was so funny, and so gross at the same time, that I wasn't quite sure how to react. "Oh, well that's...ummm...yucky. We shouldn't eat our boogers." But as soon as it was out of my mouth I somewhat regretted saying that.
Yes, I regretted telling my daughter not to eat her boogers. Two things occurred to me here. 1. She trusted me, to tell me something she knew was weird, but that she thought was funny and wanted to include me in it. I once read a quote about how if we want children to talk with us openly and honestly as teenagers, we need to listen to them openly as children. And here she was, just having a very open and honest moment with me. I was actually very honored. 2. The dilemma: do I stop her and teach her to be more of a lady? Do I tell her that picking her nose (and eating her boogers) and "pooting" in public are impolite and unladylike? Or...hear me out...or do I allow these traits to run the boys off quite naturally? Chances are she won't be quite this brazen with it for the rest of her life, but if I stifle it, she might go the opposite direction and try to be something she's not, and won't her true love one day, love her just the way she is anyway? (With the time transcending powers of the blogosphere, I hope he is reading this right now).
Yes, I am rationalizing a way to keep boys temporarily away with farts and boogers, and maybe that doesn't make much sense, But it could keep her safely in the friend zone just a little bit longer. After a few seconds of thought, with Chastity still looking up at me with her innocent smile, still remembering the hilarity of her booger story, I smiled back and said, "You're so funny. I just love you."
She sighed, "Me too, Mommy."
I'm not being vain here. It has very little to do with me. Other than providing her with a place to grow, I did not create her. God did, so yes, I think it is ok for me to state that she is undeniably beautiful.
She will be 4 years old next month, but it is never too early to begin thinking about how we will run off the boys. Jelani wants to take notes from Will Smith in the movie Bad Boys 2 and answer the door in a wife-beater tank, looking crazy, screaming, "I ain't afraid to go back to jail!" Where as my brainstorming has taken a more practical direction.
Chastity has this amazing, innocent quality about her, which causes her to be honest about everything. She will pass gas like a champ and follow it up by yelling, "I pooted! Excuse me!" Often, when they are like chain reaction poots, pop pop popping out, we'll hear, "I pooted. Excuse me. I pooted. Excuse me. Ipootedexcuseme!" There is the lesser known, sister phrase as well, "I burped. Excuse me."
Then, yesterday before nap time she said, "Mommy, can I tell you something?"
"Sure," I answered.
"Yesterday, I picked my nose."
"Uh, well..."
"I ate my booger. It tasted weird."
"You ate your booger?!"
"Yes!"
"Are you just kidding?" I asked, hopefully.
"No. I really ate it. And it got stuck on my teeth. And that was funny." (Insert goofy, giggly grin here)
It was so funny, and so gross at the same time, that I wasn't quite sure how to react. "Oh, well that's...ummm...yucky. We shouldn't eat our boogers." But as soon as it was out of my mouth I somewhat regretted saying that.
Yes, I regretted telling my daughter not to eat her boogers. Two things occurred to me here. 1. She trusted me, to tell me something she knew was weird, but that she thought was funny and wanted to include me in it. I once read a quote about how if we want children to talk with us openly and honestly as teenagers, we need to listen to them openly as children. And here she was, just having a very open and honest moment with me. I was actually very honored. 2. The dilemma: do I stop her and teach her to be more of a lady? Do I tell her that picking her nose (and eating her boogers) and "pooting" in public are impolite and unladylike? Or...hear me out...or do I allow these traits to run the boys off quite naturally? Chances are she won't be quite this brazen with it for the rest of her life, but if I stifle it, she might go the opposite direction and try to be something she's not, and won't her true love one day, love her just the way she is anyway? (With the time transcending powers of the blogosphere, I hope he is reading this right now).
Yes, I am rationalizing a way to keep boys temporarily away with farts and boogers, and maybe that doesn't make much sense, But it could keep her safely in the friend zone just a little bit longer. After a few seconds of thought, with Chastity still looking up at me with her innocent smile, still remembering the hilarity of her booger story, I smiled back and said, "You're so funny. I just love you."
She sighed, "Me too, Mommy."
Monday, April 8, 2013
Learning to Love
I worry about Chastity.
I shouldn't. The Bible tells us not to worry, but sometimes I still do. I've always had a complex about having multiple children. With each pregnancy after the first I have worried about there not being enough of me to go around. I've worried about leaving a child out or making one feel neglected. You always hear things about the "middle child syndrome," and how they get lost in the shuffle, and sometimes I worry that Chastity is that card in the middle of the deck, and no matter how many times I shuffle, she never comes out on top.
Elijah is 5 and in Kindergarten, but I am homeschooling. That takes up about 4 hours of our mornings. Isaac is 7 months old and teething, nursing, moving, and upset about not being able to walk. Really I could have stopped at "7 months old," and you'd understand. Chastity is almost 4, and she will have her own school schedule next year, but right now, she does not. No matter how many times I (or even Elijah) try to include her in our school schedule, she becomes quickly discouraged because she knows the difference between her coloring and activity books and Elijah's school books. So to keep her happy and Elijah focused, I usually set her up in my bedroom to watch Sesame Street.
She is patient and good. She does not jump on my large, tempting bed. She knows exactly when to turn the TV off and come back downstairs, and she does. She even keeps her laughter to a whisper when she knows Isaac is taking his morning nap in his room next door.
Still I worry.
Even after school, I find myself wrapped up in keeping Isaac content. The computer sits right next to my nursing chair, so I'm often nursing him, or bouncing him, with one hand on the mouse, doing something on the computer, while watching Chastity and Elijah play together. They often fade into the background amidst the discontent of Isaac while he's winding down for a nap. "Mommy, look!" "Mommy, watch this!" "Mommy, mommy, mommy..." There are days when I feel like I'm on autopilot with the nods, and "Uh huh," and "Wow."
The saddest days are the ones when I feel they've given up on me completely, and they go play in their room, and I wonder, "What am I even teaching them? They barely even need me anymore."
But then the magic happens. God opens my eyes to see. I see Elijah running to help Isaac and announcing his every move to me with such delight and pride. I hear Chastity's sweet voice singing, Your Are My Sunshine, repeatedly while cheek to cheek with Isaac to calm him down. I catch a glimpse of Chastity rocking him in his car seat while we're all rushing around to get out the door. I see them kiss him and tell him, "moo moo," which is "love you" in this house. I hear Elijah pray that Isaac's teeth won't hurt, and that he'll have a good night's sleep.
While Satan tries to tear me down, telling me I'm a lousy mother, damaging my children, God shows me His truth. Look, you are teaching them. They see how much you love Isaac, and by association, are reminded of how much you love them. Let me show you.
I hear Chastity's sweet voice, and see Elijah running to help Isaac reach a toy.
They are learning how to love.
I shouldn't. The Bible tells us not to worry, but sometimes I still do. I've always had a complex about having multiple children. With each pregnancy after the first I have worried about there not being enough of me to go around. I've worried about leaving a child out or making one feel neglected. You always hear things about the "middle child syndrome," and how they get lost in the shuffle, and sometimes I worry that Chastity is that card in the middle of the deck, and no matter how many times I shuffle, she never comes out on top.
Elijah is 5 and in Kindergarten, but I am homeschooling. That takes up about 4 hours of our mornings. Isaac is 7 months old and teething, nursing, moving, and upset about not being able to walk. Really I could have stopped at "7 months old," and you'd understand. Chastity is almost 4, and she will have her own school schedule next year, but right now, she does not. No matter how many times I (or even Elijah) try to include her in our school schedule, she becomes quickly discouraged because she knows the difference between her coloring and activity books and Elijah's school books. So to keep her happy and Elijah focused, I usually set her up in my bedroom to watch Sesame Street.
She is patient and good. She does not jump on my large, tempting bed. She knows exactly when to turn the TV off and come back downstairs, and she does. She even keeps her laughter to a whisper when she knows Isaac is taking his morning nap in his room next door.
Still I worry.
Even after school, I find myself wrapped up in keeping Isaac content. The computer sits right next to my nursing chair, so I'm often nursing him, or bouncing him, with one hand on the mouse, doing something on the computer, while watching Chastity and Elijah play together. They often fade into the background amidst the discontent of Isaac while he's winding down for a nap. "Mommy, look!" "Mommy, watch this!" "Mommy, mommy, mommy..." There are days when I feel like I'm on autopilot with the nods, and "Uh huh," and "Wow."
The saddest days are the ones when I feel they've given up on me completely, and they go play in their room, and I wonder, "What am I even teaching them? They barely even need me anymore."
But then the magic happens. God opens my eyes to see. I see Elijah running to help Isaac and announcing his every move to me with such delight and pride. I hear Chastity's sweet voice singing, Your Are My Sunshine, repeatedly while cheek to cheek with Isaac to calm him down. I catch a glimpse of Chastity rocking him in his car seat while we're all rushing around to get out the door. I see them kiss him and tell him, "moo moo," which is "love you" in this house. I hear Elijah pray that Isaac's teeth won't hurt, and that he'll have a good night's sleep.
While Satan tries to tear me down, telling me I'm a lousy mother, damaging my children, God shows me His truth. Look, you are teaching them. They see how much you love Isaac, and by association, are reminded of how much you love them. Let me show you.
I hear Chastity's sweet voice, and see Elijah running to help Isaac reach a toy.
They are learning how to love.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
How Dare You Speak Honestly With Me!
I recently read a blog listing off what not to say to a working mom. You're going to want to check that out in order to better understand me. She told us not to freak out, because she supports stay at home moms, but so much of what she said contradicted that, so I have responded with my own list of things you shouldn't say to a stay at home mom.
I wish I could afford to do that!
Do you? Do you really? Don't say it if you don't mean it. I have no problems with you working. There is no shame in enjoying your work or career. There is no shame in enjoying the extra income if that's what it is to your household, but keep in mind, many of you do have the choice. Single moms and moms from very low-income families don't always have that choice, but about 90% of the women who have said this to me have husbands earning twice as much (or more) than my husband. In fact, I have had women say this to me while we had zero income at all while my husband was going back to school and we were living on school loans. You assume that we are rolling in upper class dollar bills when you make a comment like that, when the truth is, we just do without a lot of stuff. In the past, we've spent years without cable and some without internet as well. We hardly ever eat out, we might go to the movies once or twice a year, and our vacations consist of visiting family. At one point, when it was just me, my husband, and our first born child who was still only nursing, we managed on a grocery budget of $25 a week. I kid you not. If they didn't have it at Aldi, I didn't buy it, and we didn't really buy any snack foods. Now that is not a realistic budget to maintain, and it's not for everyone. Noted. But don't insult my intelligence. If you really wanted to stay home with your children, you would find a way to do it. Wanting to work doesn't make you a bad mother any more than saying how badly you wish you could stay home makes you a better mother.
It must be so great to be there for all the milestones.
You are assuming that I don't have anything else in the house to do other than keep both eyes on my children all day. The thing about being home is that people are always there to make messes during the day. I have missed many a milestone while doing the dishes, making dinner, stepping out of the room to take care of something, etc, etc. I catch them after the fact, or now, one of my older children will notify me of something the baby did. The things I never miss? The first poop, the first pee all over me, the first puke, the first potty training accident. Always around for those, and usually the only one available to clean it up.
What will you do once your children go to school?
My time at home with my children has not made me irrelevant to society nor has it completely negated any previous experience I've had. This world's work force needs to stop shunning women who have made the choice to stay home with the next generation. I haven't stopped learning or contributing to society. In fact, I have learned a great deal about teaching, and patience, and multi-tasking; things the work force could use a lot more of. Don't write me off as though I'm a handicap to the working body. There is plenty I can do.
Oh, I don't have the time to watch TV ( or insert any other leisure activity here).
Right. I forgot how you are so much busier than I am. After all, I just watch reality TV all day, and have plenty of time to work out. It couldn't possibly be that I only watch TV during nap and/or after bedtime, and that I only workout at 6am before my children awake. It couldn't possibly be that I just have an organized schedule and routine that I am disciplined enough to stick to.
You look exhausted.
I am. Thanks for noticing. I have three children. I am homeschooling one, nursing one, and trying not to ignore the other. I'm cleaning, teaching, and feeding someone all day and sometimes night.
At least you get to spend time with your children all day.
Here's the thing. I am here physically, with my children all day. I spend as much time with them as possible, but like I said before, the thing about being here all day, is that messes are made which need to be cleaned. When you're a working mom with a working husband, and your children spend their days in daycare, in school, or in someone else's home, your home stays in the state you left it. In mine there is constant work because there are constant mess makers. And it's work that often takes me all day (or all week) to finish. I get my hands in the soapy dish water, and the baby cries. I start folding clothes that have been in the dryer for three days, and the kids are hungry. I get out the vacuum, and the baby starts screaming. I start to make dinner, and the baby needs to nurse. I could go on and on. Actual quality time with my children is less than one might think.
It must be so nice not to have a job to worry about.
You're right. I don't work. And never in my life did I ever have a dream of having a career. Come on! I love my kids, and I believe I am where I am supposed to be right now, without a doubt, but there was a time in my life when I desperately wanted a career in basketball; be it playing or coaching. It didn't work out for me, but thanks for the reminder. After all, we stay at home moms never had any dreams or aspirations beyond giving birth.
I don't know how you do it all.
I was raised on the importance of doing a job well, and to believe that it was better to be a master of one rather than a jack of all trades, but most days I feel like everything I do is half-@$$ed. Sorry, can't think of a better way to put that. Most of what I try to get done never gets completed, or it is just plain never ending. My house isn't that clean, my meals are hit or miss, and even though, yes, I am home, I feel like I don't have enough of the good time with my children...not just time. There's a difference. So no, I don't do it all...at least not well.
But wait, how is this an insult exactly?
Why do you homeschool?
Why not? Because that's what my husband and I believe is best for our children right now, that's why. Don't look at me like I'm some sort of freak who won't let her children experience life. I went to public school myself, and have nothing against it, but this, right now, was our personal choice, and I shouldn't have to defend that.
Don't call me a stay at home mom while we're at it.
Implying that you are a working mom while I just stay at home, is insulting. From here on out I declare that stay at home moms should be called career moms, because we are making a career out of working, yes working, at home. Change approved! (So what, I watch Cougar Town).
You look exhausted.
Yeah, we covered that already. Thanks.
And lastly...
Don't tell me what we can and can't talk about.
Do you parade this list around to your friends? Or are you only insulted by strangers trying to have an honest conversation with you? Besides maybe two items on your list, those all seem like legitimate conversation pieces between moms. We all have struggles and challenges, and while we may not fully understand each other, our own personal struggles don't negate anyone else's struggles and challenges. We shouldn't be beating each other up over them or refusing to allow people to talk to us about them with this my challenges are greater than yours mentality.
Does my list here sound ridiculous to you? My goodness, I hope so! If you haven't gotten it by now, I am being facetious. Ladies, we have got to stop tearing each other apart for our choices. Aren't there enough battles going on between women about personal choice? Do we have to add this too? We shouldn't feel the need to defend the choices we've made in raising our children. We shouldn't need to berate others' for their decisions in order to feel better about our own. And we shouldn't have to walk on egg shells to talk with each other. Why are we all so easily offended by everyone's differing opinions?
We are all strong, independent women with something to offer the world and each other. We should be able to sit and talk frankly about issues and concerns or questions about the choices we each make. We should seek ways to relate to one another and support one another. We were designed to be encouraging and nurturing, and yet we encourage each other in all the wrong ways! Rather than encourage someone in their decision and through their struggles, so many women are collectively reading the above (snarky, in my opinion) blog I referenced, and all jumping on it, "You tell 'em!" "I can't stand that!" "You go girl!" We women are so quick to ban together over gossip and disdain, and we're quick to encourage each other to be hurtful, hateful, petty, and resentful. I mean, if my snarky response blog here doesn't prove my point, I don't know what does. ;-) Seriously though, how many times do you dismiss something that may have bothered you, only to be further encouraged in your bitterness by other women? We all do it! We get into groups and suddenly a small issue is blown out of proportion and we're all on soap boxes about how awful we've been treated and how we would never do that to someone. We all know that's not true, myself included. We have all been the perpetrator and we've all played the victim, no matter how unintentional. All of the above things which have been said to me at one time or another were never intended as offensive or hurtful. They were sincere, however misguided, questions, comments, or just conversation pieces, and I wouldn't dream of writing a serious article about how these things should never be said to stay at home moms. They do not offend me, nor should they. Talk to me! I want to understand your struggles. I want to encourage you, even if I don't know what it is like to leave my children with a sitter or daycare provider. I want to build you up. Because you are each special and unique, and God has a plan for your life and your family and what you are doing with it and for them. And I hope that when I say, "I need a day out of the house," rather than judge me for it or take offense to it personally, you would return my encouragement, and understand that having a moment to myself, for myself, would help maintain my sanity and rejuvenate my spirit. Can't all moms relate to that?
In closing, I have no hard feelings towards any working mom who has posted that article or related to it in anyway, because I'm sure many of you are wondering. I am not offended by your ability to relate to that blogger. I'm not actually offended by what she has to say. I just think it's a shame she feels the need to sensor and stifle conversations among women. I understand what she is trying to say, and I appreciate how difficult it may be to hear some of those things from people. They may appear insensitive and judgmental and maybe even some people intend for them to be, but don't allow it to harden you against all line of questioning and conversation between moms. We shouldn't limit what they may say to us out of curiosity or confusion. I am often an awkward conversationalist myself, but my desire is always sincere in just wanting to connect with people.
In all seriousness, I have been over dramatic here to make a point. I hope you all understand that, but I am open to honest and sincere questions. I am not even saying all this because I believe I hold the keys to not being offended or that I am a superior strong woman who doesn't let anything bother me. I say these things because I too have once thought them. I'm just being honest about it!
I know I have said this before, but I have a great deal of respect for all mothers! Keep trying to connect and relate, because we all need each other, and we could all use a little encouragement from time to time.
I wish I could afford to do that!
Do you? Do you really? Don't say it if you don't mean it. I have no problems with you working. There is no shame in enjoying your work or career. There is no shame in enjoying the extra income if that's what it is to your household, but keep in mind, many of you do have the choice. Single moms and moms from very low-income families don't always have that choice, but about 90% of the women who have said this to me have husbands earning twice as much (or more) than my husband. In fact, I have had women say this to me while we had zero income at all while my husband was going back to school and we were living on school loans. You assume that we are rolling in upper class dollar bills when you make a comment like that, when the truth is, we just do without a lot of stuff. In the past, we've spent years without cable and some without internet as well. We hardly ever eat out, we might go to the movies once or twice a year, and our vacations consist of visiting family. At one point, when it was just me, my husband, and our first born child who was still only nursing, we managed on a grocery budget of $25 a week. I kid you not. If they didn't have it at Aldi, I didn't buy it, and we didn't really buy any snack foods. Now that is not a realistic budget to maintain, and it's not for everyone. Noted. But don't insult my intelligence. If you really wanted to stay home with your children, you would find a way to do it. Wanting to work doesn't make you a bad mother any more than saying how badly you wish you could stay home makes you a better mother.
It must be so great to be there for all the milestones.
You are assuming that I don't have anything else in the house to do other than keep both eyes on my children all day. The thing about being home is that people are always there to make messes during the day. I have missed many a milestone while doing the dishes, making dinner, stepping out of the room to take care of something, etc, etc. I catch them after the fact, or now, one of my older children will notify me of something the baby did. The things I never miss? The first poop, the first pee all over me, the first puke, the first potty training accident. Always around for those, and usually the only one available to clean it up.
What will you do once your children go to school?
My time at home with my children has not made me irrelevant to society nor has it completely negated any previous experience I've had. This world's work force needs to stop shunning women who have made the choice to stay home with the next generation. I haven't stopped learning or contributing to society. In fact, I have learned a great deal about teaching, and patience, and multi-tasking; things the work force could use a lot more of. Don't write me off as though I'm a handicap to the working body. There is plenty I can do.
Oh, I don't have the time to watch TV ( or insert any other leisure activity here).
Right. I forgot how you are so much busier than I am. After all, I just watch reality TV all day, and have plenty of time to work out. It couldn't possibly be that I only watch TV during nap and/or after bedtime, and that I only workout at 6am before my children awake. It couldn't possibly be that I just have an organized schedule and routine that I am disciplined enough to stick to.
You look exhausted.
I am. Thanks for noticing. I have three children. I am homeschooling one, nursing one, and trying not to ignore the other. I'm cleaning, teaching, and feeding someone all day and sometimes night.
At least you get to spend time with your children all day.
Here's the thing. I am here physically, with my children all day. I spend as much time with them as possible, but like I said before, the thing about being here all day, is that messes are made which need to be cleaned. When you're a working mom with a working husband, and your children spend their days in daycare, in school, or in someone else's home, your home stays in the state you left it. In mine there is constant work because there are constant mess makers. And it's work that often takes me all day (or all week) to finish. I get my hands in the soapy dish water, and the baby cries. I start folding clothes that have been in the dryer for three days, and the kids are hungry. I get out the vacuum, and the baby starts screaming. I start to make dinner, and the baby needs to nurse. I could go on and on. Actual quality time with my children is less than one might think.
It must be so nice not to have a job to worry about.
You're right. I don't work. And never in my life did I ever have a dream of having a career. Come on! I love my kids, and I believe I am where I am supposed to be right now, without a doubt, but there was a time in my life when I desperately wanted a career in basketball; be it playing or coaching. It didn't work out for me, but thanks for the reminder. After all, we stay at home moms never had any dreams or aspirations beyond giving birth.
I don't know how you do it all.
I was raised on the importance of doing a job well, and to believe that it was better to be a master of one rather than a jack of all trades, but most days I feel like everything I do is half-@$$ed. Sorry, can't think of a better way to put that. Most of what I try to get done never gets completed, or it is just plain never ending. My house isn't that clean, my meals are hit or miss, and even though, yes, I am home, I feel like I don't have enough of the good time with my children...not just time. There's a difference. So no, I don't do it all...at least not well.
But wait, how is this an insult exactly?
Why do you homeschool?
Why not? Because that's what my husband and I believe is best for our children right now, that's why. Don't look at me like I'm some sort of freak who won't let her children experience life. I went to public school myself, and have nothing against it, but this, right now, was our personal choice, and I shouldn't have to defend that.
Don't call me a stay at home mom while we're at it.
Implying that you are a working mom while I just stay at home, is insulting. From here on out I declare that stay at home moms should be called career moms, because we are making a career out of working, yes working, at home. Change approved! (So what, I watch Cougar Town).
You look exhausted.
Yeah, we covered that already. Thanks.
And lastly...
Don't tell me what we can and can't talk about.
Do you parade this list around to your friends? Or are you only insulted by strangers trying to have an honest conversation with you? Besides maybe two items on your list, those all seem like legitimate conversation pieces between moms. We all have struggles and challenges, and while we may not fully understand each other, our own personal struggles don't negate anyone else's struggles and challenges. We shouldn't be beating each other up over them or refusing to allow people to talk to us about them with this my challenges are greater than yours mentality.
Does my list here sound ridiculous to you? My goodness, I hope so! If you haven't gotten it by now, I am being facetious. Ladies, we have got to stop tearing each other apart for our choices. Aren't there enough battles going on between women about personal choice? Do we have to add this too? We shouldn't feel the need to defend the choices we've made in raising our children. We shouldn't need to berate others' for their decisions in order to feel better about our own. And we shouldn't have to walk on egg shells to talk with each other. Why are we all so easily offended by everyone's differing opinions?
We are all strong, independent women with something to offer the world and each other. We should be able to sit and talk frankly about issues and concerns or questions about the choices we each make. We should seek ways to relate to one another and support one another. We were designed to be encouraging and nurturing, and yet we encourage each other in all the wrong ways! Rather than encourage someone in their decision and through their struggles, so many women are collectively reading the above (snarky, in my opinion) blog I referenced, and all jumping on it, "You tell 'em!" "I can't stand that!" "You go girl!" We women are so quick to ban together over gossip and disdain, and we're quick to encourage each other to be hurtful, hateful, petty, and resentful. I mean, if my snarky response blog here doesn't prove my point, I don't know what does. ;-) Seriously though, how many times do you dismiss something that may have bothered you, only to be further encouraged in your bitterness by other women? We all do it! We get into groups and suddenly a small issue is blown out of proportion and we're all on soap boxes about how awful we've been treated and how we would never do that to someone. We all know that's not true, myself included. We have all been the perpetrator and we've all played the victim, no matter how unintentional. All of the above things which have been said to me at one time or another were never intended as offensive or hurtful. They were sincere, however misguided, questions, comments, or just conversation pieces, and I wouldn't dream of writing a serious article about how these things should never be said to stay at home moms. They do not offend me, nor should they. Talk to me! I want to understand your struggles. I want to encourage you, even if I don't know what it is like to leave my children with a sitter or daycare provider. I want to build you up. Because you are each special and unique, and God has a plan for your life and your family and what you are doing with it and for them. And I hope that when I say, "I need a day out of the house," rather than judge me for it or take offense to it personally, you would return my encouragement, and understand that having a moment to myself, for myself, would help maintain my sanity and rejuvenate my spirit. Can't all moms relate to that?
In closing, I have no hard feelings towards any working mom who has posted that article or related to it in anyway, because I'm sure many of you are wondering. I am not offended by your ability to relate to that blogger. I'm not actually offended by what she has to say. I just think it's a shame she feels the need to sensor and stifle conversations among women. I understand what she is trying to say, and I appreciate how difficult it may be to hear some of those things from people. They may appear insensitive and judgmental and maybe even some people intend for them to be, but don't allow it to harden you against all line of questioning and conversation between moms. We shouldn't limit what they may say to us out of curiosity or confusion. I am often an awkward conversationalist myself, but my desire is always sincere in just wanting to connect with people.
In all seriousness, I have been over dramatic here to make a point. I hope you all understand that, but I am open to honest and sincere questions. I am not even saying all this because I believe I hold the keys to not being offended or that I am a superior strong woman who doesn't let anything bother me. I say these things because I too have once thought them. I'm just being honest about it!
I know I have said this before, but I have a great deal of respect for all mothers! Keep trying to connect and relate, because we all need each other, and we could all use a little encouragement from time to time.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Origins of the Side Ponytail
I made an astounding discovery today. The very popular on again/off again trend of the side ponytail is very likely not at cool as you might think.
It seems like every generation has had it's own version of the side ponytail. They were long and often braided or twisted in the Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman age.
Yes, that is an acceptable reference.
In the 70s, the age where multiple pigtail styles were for adults of all ages, Susanne Somers made the half side pony unforgettable.
I think we can all agree that the 80s were seriously high and crazy...in more than one way. They were curly, and crimped, and teased, and really everything but timeless.
And I'm pretty certain the 80s terrified us all and turned us all off to the side ponytail for a very long time because I didn't see another one until the final season of Dawson's Creek where Jen wore a very subtle, thin, wisp of a side ponytail that you could barely notice. I'm watching it on Netfilx right now. Leave me alone.
So now, it is made popular by celebs of all kinds, as a swept to the side, low-maintenance look.
But does anyone truly know the origins of the ever-so-popular side pony? Today, I can venture a pretty good guess.
I had just finished nursing Isaac late this morning. I hadn't showered yet. My hair had been in a sloppy ponytail on top of my head, but had slid down quite a bit and some was straying out of the rubber band. I lifted Isaac, my 5 month old baby, off the boppy to burp him. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and burped his baby spit up right into it. Thankfully that fistful was yanked right out, so I didn't have the pleasure of walking around the rest of the day with spit up in my hair.
Later, after I had showered, I found myself in a similar predicament. About to burp him with my newly washed hair hanging down my shoulders, I quickly pulled it all off to the opposite side and tied it up, out of his reach.
It was an hour later when Jelani looked at me strangely, and asked, "Is that a side ponytail?" that I had a realization.
Light bulb moment, ladies.
That gorgeous and trendy look you're all just dying to have? That elegant, swept away look found in so many of your prom and wedding photos? That look was made common by nerdy moms like me, tired of the same boring bun on top of their heads, and tired of having their hair yanked out and spit up on.
Some mom, somewhere, took a look at her disheveled, side swept hair in the mirror, and thought, "I can make this work!"
Look who's cool and trendy now.
It seems like every generation has had it's own version of the side ponytail. They were long and often braided or twisted in the Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman age.
Yes, that is an acceptable reference.
In the 70s, the age where multiple pigtail styles were for adults of all ages, Susanne Somers made the half side pony unforgettable.
I think we can all agree that the 80s were seriously high and crazy...in more than one way. They were curly, and crimped, and teased, and really everything but timeless.
And I'm pretty certain the 80s terrified us all and turned us all off to the side ponytail for a very long time because I didn't see another one until the final season of Dawson's Creek where Jen wore a very subtle, thin, wisp of a side ponytail that you could barely notice. I'm watching it on Netfilx right now. Leave me alone.
So now, it is made popular by celebs of all kinds, as a swept to the side, low-maintenance look.
But does anyone truly know the origins of the ever-so-popular side pony? Today, I can venture a pretty good guess.
I had just finished nursing Isaac late this morning. I hadn't showered yet. My hair had been in a sloppy ponytail on top of my head, but had slid down quite a bit and some was straying out of the rubber band. I lifted Isaac, my 5 month old baby, off the boppy to burp him. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and burped his baby spit up right into it. Thankfully that fistful was yanked right out, so I didn't have the pleasure of walking around the rest of the day with spit up in my hair.
Later, after I had showered, I found myself in a similar predicament. About to burp him with my newly washed hair hanging down my shoulders, I quickly pulled it all off to the opposite side and tied it up, out of his reach.
It was an hour later when Jelani looked at me strangely, and asked, "Is that a side ponytail?" that I had a realization.
Light bulb moment, ladies.
That gorgeous and trendy look you're all just dying to have? That elegant, swept away look found in so many of your prom and wedding photos? That look was made common by nerdy moms like me, tired of the same boring bun on top of their heads, and tired of having their hair yanked out and spit up on.
Some mom, somewhere, took a look at her disheveled, side swept hair in the mirror, and thought, "I can make this work!"
Look who's cool and trendy now.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Unforgettable Fun
I love my readers, I really do, but I don't really write this blog for you. You see, some days I feel like I'm in the middle of the battle grounds with no chance of escape. My days are consumed with being the teacher, the cook, the cleaning lady, the referee, the disciplinarian, the soother, the bottle, and the lady with poop on her hands, minus the added perks of being the chauffeur because I am the stay at home mom of the literal sense. I have no car. So when I'm in the trenches, I am in the trenches.
My days fill up pretty quickly with a lot of stuff I don't even know how to name. And between the teachings, the feedings, the changings, and the runnings around desperately trying to keep the poop, which is bubbling over the top edge of Isaac's diaper, from touching anything, I don't have much time to just have fun...not that those things aren't fun. I couldn't stop laughing while using 50 wipes all over Isaac's little body just to get him clean enough to take a bath. That is truly a crap filled memory I will not soon forget. I'm talking about real fun. Poop-free fun. The kind of fun when a mom can just stop everything in her job description, let loose, and thoroughly enjoy her family.
Tonight, if you happened to drive slowly by the Greene residence, and caught a glimpse of some strangely moving and grooving silhouettes through the blinds, you were witnessing a very intimate Greene house dance party. Chastity asked, or rather demanded, that Daddy dance with her. So we turned Pandora onto Motown, and for a solid 30 minutes, we all shook it like mad in the living room. Isaac and Selah stared up at us from the floor as though we'd done lost our minds.
So I don't write this for readers, as much as I love you all, and I love your feedback, and I love hearing your stories and how you can relate to mine. I write this for me, because I never want to forget.
I never want to forget Chastity's blissful little face with her arms and legs hugging her daddy, swaying to The Temptations. I never want to forget Elijah looking up and smiling at me while trying so hard to dance with me like a big boy. I never want to forget how Elijah stood up on the couch so he could spin me. I never want to forget how Chastity herded Jelani and I together so the "big people" could dance together and the "little kids" could dance. I never want to forget how she and Elijah danced together trying to be so grown. I never want to forget how many times they spun in circles, laughed, jumped, and hugged us and each other. Because that half hour makes everything under my "job description" so worth it, and when Mommy has that much fun, she doesn't ever want to forget it.
Writing for yourself is the most enjoyable kind, so I hope you find the time to write down your fleeting moments, and make time to enjoy those you work so hard for! I might just declare every Saturday night, Saturday-Night-Fever Night...minus the disco.
My days fill up pretty quickly with a lot of stuff I don't even know how to name. And between the teachings, the feedings, the changings, and the runnings around desperately trying to keep the poop, which is bubbling over the top edge of Isaac's diaper, from touching anything, I don't have much time to just have fun...not that those things aren't fun. I couldn't stop laughing while using 50 wipes all over Isaac's little body just to get him clean enough to take a bath. That is truly a crap filled memory I will not soon forget. I'm talking about real fun. Poop-free fun. The kind of fun when a mom can just stop everything in her job description, let loose, and thoroughly enjoy her family.
Tonight, if you happened to drive slowly by the Greene residence, and caught a glimpse of some strangely moving and grooving silhouettes through the blinds, you were witnessing a very intimate Greene house dance party. Chastity asked, or rather demanded, that Daddy dance with her. So we turned Pandora onto Motown, and for a solid 30 minutes, we all shook it like mad in the living room. Isaac and Selah stared up at us from the floor as though we'd done lost our minds.
So I don't write this for readers, as much as I love you all, and I love your feedback, and I love hearing your stories and how you can relate to mine. I write this for me, because I never want to forget.
I never want to forget Chastity's blissful little face with her arms and legs hugging her daddy, swaying to The Temptations. I never want to forget Elijah looking up and smiling at me while trying so hard to dance with me like a big boy. I never want to forget how Elijah stood up on the couch so he could spin me. I never want to forget how Chastity herded Jelani and I together so the "big people" could dance together and the "little kids" could dance. I never want to forget how she and Elijah danced together trying to be so grown. I never want to forget how many times they spun in circles, laughed, jumped, and hugged us and each other. Because that half hour makes everything under my "job description" so worth it, and when Mommy has that much fun, she doesn't ever want to forget it.
Writing for yourself is the most enjoyable kind, so I hope you find the time to write down your fleeting moments, and make time to enjoy those you work so hard for! I might just declare every Saturday night, Saturday-Night-Fever Night...minus the disco.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
