It's been a rough past couple of weeks in our house. Lots of sickness, numerous trips to the doctor, too many cancelled plans and shuffled schedules, and, if possible, the house has gotten even messier than it was prior to all of this. The optimist in me (what?!...I totally have a little of it) says that I should just be thankful that the illness is all minor and, in theory, short-lived. But the pessimist in me thinks that this just might be what pushes me over the edge into a full-blown nervous breakdown.
I continue to be asked by people how I'm liking staying at home. I feel like it's the same as when you're pregnant and people ask you if you're excited (which I always found to be a dumb question anyway). It just feels like there's a right answer that people are expecting. Sort of like the "how are you today?" thing. You're supposed to answer with "good" and be done with it. I'm supposed to answer that staying at home is going well. If I give any other answer it's either too much information or just plain makes me look like a bad mom.
I don't hate my new role. But I can't say that fully love it. And I'm not embarrassed by that and I make no apologies. Because I *do* love my children. And I *am* thankful for this opportunity. I really do think years from now I'll look back on this time and be so glad that I was able to spend the extra time with the kids. I look at Max and feel like I've just blinked and he became a 5-year-old. And, despite that last week was one of the longest of my life :), it was nice to not have to worry about finding alternate daycare and calling employees to ask favors to work extra hours. And I could be the one to give them extra kisses (and wipe their noses....and get whatever it is that they have five days later...).
The point to all of this (I swear that there is one), is that I am beginning to realize that the pressure to 100% love this staying at home thing is totally self-imposed. Brian doesn't expect a clean house, or apparently, a sane wife. He continues to love me no matter how disgusting our family room is or how often I serve him breakfast for dinner (it's SO easy...I just can't stop). And he puts up with my constant emotional breakdowns. And the kids seem to love me despite the fact that I forever mess up as a mom. My patience has taken a nosedive the past few weeks, and poor Max hasn't been to school a minute before 8:40 (i.e. the time school starts) since September. And as long as my family still loves me, which appears to be an unconditional, long-term thing, I really am as happy as a mother and wife could be. It doesn't mean that I'm not allowed bad days and weekly cries on the kitchen floor (hypothetically, of course). It just means that it's more motivation to keep working on being a better mother and wife. Because these four, beautiful souls in my life really do make me want to be a better person. And someday I will go back to working outside of the home. And I'm sure at that point I'll miss things about staying at home. The grass is always greener, right? But this is what I'm supposed to be doing right now, and I've always loved a good challenge, so I'll continue to work on all these domestic skills that appear to not be a part of my genetic makeup. And on the bad days, I'll take great solace in the fact that my "bosses" give performance reviews via kisses and hugs.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Go Team Tortoise!
This conversation occurred this morning between Max and me. The Today Show was on the tv, and we were watching the story about the news anchorwoman in Wisconsin who spoke out against an email sent to her that criticized her weight (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdJ2jHii6Y0&feature=plcp). Max and I had this brief conversation:
Max: "Mom! Did you hear her? She just called herself fat."
Me: "Well, she's actually talking about how someone sent her an email telling her that she was fat. That's not very nice, is it?"
Max: "No."
Me: "Because we shouldn't call people names, ya know? It hurts their feelings. We should just say nice things."
Max: "Yeah. Like, even though you're fat, Mom, I still love you."
Max: "Yeah. Like, even though you're fat, Mom, I still love you."
Clearly he missed the "don't say mean things to people" point, but he full embraced the "we should be nice and try to love everyone" point, so I can't get too down about it. :) I just wish it didn't come on the week where I have two bridesmaid dresses to squeeze into.
When I was pregnant with Milo, I decided at some point in regards to my weight gain that ignorance was bliss, and that I'd lost baby weight two times before, so I could do it again. I attempted to enjoy my last pregnancy (as much as anyone, especially me, can enjoy pregnancy...) and not focus on the fat I was also accumulating. I still don't know exactly what I weighed when Milo was born or exactly how much I gained, but I do know that I've got a good 10 pounds left that I'd like to lose (and realistically I'd like to make it 15 pounds). And as much as I'm struggling with my body image right now, I do know that I'm slowly but surely getting closer to my goal. In my mind it would have been reached by this weekend (when I have to wear the two above mentioned bridesmaid dresses), but it is what it is. Slow and steady wins the race. (Although sometimes the super fast and steady guy wins, too....but we're not focusing on that today.)
Honestly though, I had to laugh at Max's comment. Because the absolute wonderful part of it? He was being sincere. He looked me straight in the face, and in not so many words told me that he doesn't care if I've showered, if I'm sweaty and smelly from a workout (because I do actually work out, thankyouverymuch), if I'm haggard from the daily strain of parenting....he loves me. And if I'm being honest with myself, that's a billion times more important to me than 15 extra pounds of fat affixed to my arms and belly.
*This is not a solicitation for "you look great!" comments. Despite my insecurities, I'm still okay with what I look like. I'm working to get to where I want to be, and until then, I'm good. Pinky swear.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
"M" for Mommy
Ah! I keep wanting to blog, but most days I feel like I can't find time to shower, let alone sit at the computer uninterrupted for more than 5 minutes.
I'm not even sure where to begin with what's going on in my head. I've definitely been struggling more with staying at home the past few weeks. I think last week was the first time that it really sunk in that this is what I'm doing now. Prior to that it just felt like a fun, extended version of playing mom. But last week everything just kind of came crashing down on me.
I'm just not really feeling overly confident in myself, and I'm not feeling very competent and useful. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I think a huge part of my identity and worth was wrapped up in the coffee shop. I don't think that's *all* bad, but I'm definitely realizing that I need to stop letting myself feel defined by roles and things and relationships. I'm not entirely sure how to do that, and it's all very philosophical (I mean, where does our view of ourselves come from...), but I'm relying heavily on prayer and trust that God will reveal some of this to me. Because I don't want to be someone's mom or someone's wife or the owner of some business. Those labels just all seem to one-dimensional.
Last week Max was commenting that his, Milo, and my names all began with the letter "M". Thinking that he had somehow lost all ability to figure out letter sounds, I asked, "Max, what's my name?" And he said, "Mommy." I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. There are certain aspects of this new role in my life that I love. But something just isn't sitting right with it being "all" that I'm doing right now. (And, believe me, I could write a ginormously long blog about how much value I find in staying home right now, so don't think that I am forgetting what an amazing opportunity that I'm currently carrying out.) It just seems like 99% of what I do on a given day relates to being a mom. My Facebook statuses are all about my kids (sorry, faithful Facebook friends!), my conversations at night with Brian are all about our kids, and the only time that I'm away from my kids seems to be for unexciting things like dentist appointments. I love my kids. And I still think that taking care of them every day is what I'm supposed to be doing right now. I just am being a baby about wanting my cake and eating it, too. (Mmmm....cake....)
Despite it all, I swear these aren't complaints. Just some honest observations in the mind of a tired, under-caffeinated woman. Things are just different. And in some ways I'm struggling, but it's not all bad. (Not "all bad"...spoken like a true pessimist!) :) And it doesn't help that I have about two weeks worth of blogging ideas swimming around in my head that I'm trying to cram into one post. This might be my first one without a cute anecdote. I promise to have lots of those next time!
I'm not even sure where to begin with what's going on in my head. I've definitely been struggling more with staying at home the past few weeks. I think last week was the first time that it really sunk in that this is what I'm doing now. Prior to that it just felt like a fun, extended version of playing mom. But last week everything just kind of came crashing down on me.
I'm just not really feeling overly confident in myself, and I'm not feeling very competent and useful. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I think a huge part of my identity and worth was wrapped up in the coffee shop. I don't think that's *all* bad, but I'm definitely realizing that I need to stop letting myself feel defined by roles and things and relationships. I'm not entirely sure how to do that, and it's all very philosophical (I mean, where does our view of ourselves come from...), but I'm relying heavily on prayer and trust that God will reveal some of this to me. Because I don't want to be someone's mom or someone's wife or the owner of some business. Those labels just all seem to one-dimensional.
Last week Max was commenting that his, Milo, and my names all began with the letter "M". Thinking that he had somehow lost all ability to figure out letter sounds, I asked, "Max, what's my name?" And he said, "Mommy." I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. There are certain aspects of this new role in my life that I love. But something just isn't sitting right with it being "all" that I'm doing right now. (And, believe me, I could write a ginormously long blog about how much value I find in staying home right now, so don't think that I am forgetting what an amazing opportunity that I'm currently carrying out.) It just seems like 99% of what I do on a given day relates to being a mom. My Facebook statuses are all about my kids (sorry, faithful Facebook friends!), my conversations at night with Brian are all about our kids, and the only time that I'm away from my kids seems to be for unexciting things like dentist appointments. I love my kids. And I still think that taking care of them every day is what I'm supposed to be doing right now. I just am being a baby about wanting my cake and eating it, too. (Mmmm....cake....)
Despite it all, I swear these aren't complaints. Just some honest observations in the mind of a tired, under-caffeinated woman. Things are just different. And in some ways I'm struggling, but it's not all bad. (Not "all bad"...spoken like a true pessimist!) :) And it doesn't help that I have about two weeks worth of blogging ideas swimming around in my head that I'm trying to cram into one post. This might be my first one without a cute anecdote. I promise to have lots of those next time!
Monday, September 10, 2012
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
I guess it always comes back to the coffee.
I think today goes down as the worst day of staying home with the kids to date. Although now that I look back on it to record it on this blog, it doesn't seem so horrible. But at 11:00 this morning, I was beyond frustrated. Here's the scene:
Ivy, Milo, and I had just gotten back home after going to the Campus and then grocery shopping. Those two things had gone relatively well, and Milo had even fallen asleep on the way home, so I only had one child to entertain while putting away the groceries, which is always a plus. So I was happily preparing my morning mocha and Ivy was, I thought, happily putting away the groceries (please note: she helped with this last time and pretty much everything ended up in the refrigerator, whether it needed to be there or not, which was perfectly fine with me because it kept her busy AND helped get food out of bags and into a closed space). This is the moment that everything went awry. I'm still not sure why, but Ivy grabbed a mug off the kitchen counter. This would have been fine, except that it was full of the coffee that I didn't have time to drink this morning. So in a moment, everything in the kitchen that had previously NOT been covered in coffee, now was: Ivy, Milo's carseat, Milo, the groceries, and about 25% of the kitchen floor. Thankfully, since the coffee was over three hours old, it was room temperature. But that didn't stop Ivy and Milo from immediately bursting into tears. How I didn't join them, I'll never know.
The drama doesn't really stop there, but anything worth sharing does. The shortened version is that I somehow managed to calmly get Ivy in the bathtub and repeatedly tell her that she wasn't in trouble, because she was convinced that she was. I got everyone and everything else cleaned up, but at this point Ivy was an emotional wreck, and after multiple irrational conversations (because there is no reasoning with a sobbing two-year-old), I forced Ivy to take a nap.
Like any person on any given day in any given job, it was just something that in the moment seemed overwhelming and awful. I was ready to go fill out an application at pretty much anywhere. But, also like anyone, once a few minutes (okay, maybe like thirty) passed, I was back to good. Present story excluded, I've loved the majority of my time at home with my kids the past month. To be completely honest, I kind of thought I would hate staying at home. And I do have some things that I struggle with. But days like today are a good reminder that to get the good, I have to endure the bad. And if the "bad" is spilled coffee once every four weeks, I think I can handle this job.
Ivy, Milo, and I had just gotten back home after going to the Campus and then grocery shopping. Those two things had gone relatively well, and Milo had even fallen asleep on the way home, so I only had one child to entertain while putting away the groceries, which is always a plus. So I was happily preparing my morning mocha and Ivy was, I thought, happily putting away the groceries (please note: she helped with this last time and pretty much everything ended up in the refrigerator, whether it needed to be there or not, which was perfectly fine with me because it kept her busy AND helped get food out of bags and into a closed space). This is the moment that everything went awry. I'm still not sure why, but Ivy grabbed a mug off the kitchen counter. This would have been fine, except that it was full of the coffee that I didn't have time to drink this morning. So in a moment, everything in the kitchen that had previously NOT been covered in coffee, now was: Ivy, Milo's carseat, Milo, the groceries, and about 25% of the kitchen floor. Thankfully, since the coffee was over three hours old, it was room temperature. But that didn't stop Ivy and Milo from immediately bursting into tears. How I didn't join them, I'll never know.
The drama doesn't really stop there, but anything worth sharing does. The shortened version is that I somehow managed to calmly get Ivy in the bathtub and repeatedly tell her that she wasn't in trouble, because she was convinced that she was. I got everyone and everything else cleaned up, but at this point Ivy was an emotional wreck, and after multiple irrational conversations (because there is no reasoning with a sobbing two-year-old), I forced Ivy to take a nap.
Like any person on any given day in any given job, it was just something that in the moment seemed overwhelming and awful. I was ready to go fill out an application at pretty much anywhere. But, also like anyone, once a few minutes (okay, maybe like thirty) passed, I was back to good. Present story excluded, I've loved the majority of my time at home with my kids the past month. To be completely honest, I kind of thought I would hate staying at home. And I do have some things that I struggle with. But days like today are a good reminder that to get the good, I have to endure the bad. And if the "bad" is spilled coffee once every four weeks, I think I can handle this job.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
I've been collecting cute and entertaining stories to blog about, but it turns out keeping them tucked away in my brain is about as safe a place as the backseat of any vehicle I've ever owned (i.e. many a thing have entered that danger zone never to be seen again). So, needless to say, I pretty much don't remember anything I was going to blog about for the past five-ish days. But I do have one story that survived the craziness in my brain, and I'm throwing in a few pictures for good measure.
sToRy:
I spent a fabulously relaxing (well, minus a super stubborn migraine) weekend with some wonderful women at a cabin in Wisconsin to celebrate the upcoming wedding of a good friend (shout out to Becky!). Of course I missed my family, but I also definitely thoroughly enjoyed only having myself to take care of for 48 hours. Anyway, when I approached Brian about going in the beginning stages of planning the event, he immediately was 100% wonderful and genuinely expressed that he didn't mind parenting solo for the weekend. So I got home on Sunday evening and the house was in a good state, the kids were happy, and all appeared to have gone super smoothly. Which it did. And then we were eating dinner two nights ago, and Ivy blurted out, "Dad! Can we pull your finger again and see what happens?!" And both kids burst out laughing while Brian looked at me half sheepishly, half proud (why again are men so proud of their gas?). Apparently Brian has a few tricks of his own up his sleeve for entertaining when I'm away. :)
pIcTuReS:
Milo the Smilo (creative, huh?...we came up with that all on our own):
My family room, mid project to go through all of the kids' clothes. Except that it took me twice as long as anticipated. And this is what it looked like on Day 1 when it was time to go pick Max up from school (i.e. when I thought I'd be completely done; so our house looked like this for about 12 more hours before I completed the task):
My Mini Me. And I can't figure out how to rotate pics in blogger, so turn your head sideways for the full effect: :)
sToRy:
I spent a fabulously relaxing (well, minus a super stubborn migraine) weekend with some wonderful women at a cabin in Wisconsin to celebrate the upcoming wedding of a good friend (shout out to Becky!). Of course I missed my family, but I also definitely thoroughly enjoyed only having myself to take care of for 48 hours. Anyway, when I approached Brian about going in the beginning stages of planning the event, he immediately was 100% wonderful and genuinely expressed that he didn't mind parenting solo for the weekend. So I got home on Sunday evening and the house was in a good state, the kids were happy, and all appeared to have gone super smoothly. Which it did. And then we were eating dinner two nights ago, and Ivy blurted out, "Dad! Can we pull your finger again and see what happens?!" And both kids burst out laughing while Brian looked at me half sheepishly, half proud (why again are men so proud of their gas?). Apparently Brian has a few tricks of his own up his sleeve for entertaining when I'm away. :)
pIcTuReS:
Milo the Smilo (creative, huh?...we came up with that all on our own):
My family room, mid project to go through all of the kids' clothes. Except that it took me twice as long as anticipated. And this is what it looked like on Day 1 when it was time to go pick Max up from school (i.e. when I thought I'd be completely done; so our house looked like this for about 12 more hours before I completed the task):
My Mini Me. And I can't figure out how to rotate pics in blogger, so turn your head sideways for the full effect: :)
my family (shockingly) likes to read!
Brian reading to the lil' two...
Ivy reading to Milo...
Max brought this home from school yesterday and I *for real* almost cried (out of happiness)...
Ivy reading to Milo...
Max brought this home from school yesterday and I *for real* almost cried (out of happiness)...
And this one I threw in for fun. Max brought this home from school last week. He's VERY into Mario Bros stuff lately (which is a total understatement in itself), and he told me this said Luigi (which he pronounces "Wuh-lee-gee"), and he was going to spell Mario, but messed up and changed it to "Me".
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