…is paradise.
Break? We don’t need no stinking break!
Monday I spent the school day with my daughter, volunteering in her classroom. She was on cloud nine. I was exhausted. (Kindergarten teachers are angles walking among us.) I left right before school ended so my daughter could head to aftercare and I could work out. Then I attended a meeting with the director of my son’s school, along with his teacher. That was super stressful and plenty upsetting–I’ll write about it soon.
Tuesday I went to work. I tidied, organized, and graded papers. I also treated myself to Mocking.jay Part 2, which made the grading more bearable. On my way home I spent an insane amount of money on a new pair of running shoes with special personalized inserts (my arches are insanely high). It’s been years since I bought a new pair and I exercise in them 3-4 times a week so I was definitely due. Actually, my knee started hurting when I run, which is what made me realize I needed a new pair. I also got a new pair of sandals, which I live in during the summer. I was already looking for a pair, and I love the ones I found.
Today I’m home with my son, who had a fever last night. He seems to be feeling better, so I’m attempting everything I already had planed for today. I’m hoping to workout while he watches some Thomas, then we’re going to meet up with daddy for lunch, because the thing I most wanted this spring break was a fried chicken sandwich from this pop-up that only serves them on Wednesdays. After an early afternoon nap, I plan to pick my daughter up early and take us to the beach as it’s supposed to be 80* on the coast today. Yep, it’s basically the day I was planning, I just have to navigate the first part of it with a two-year-old, instead of luxuriously alone.
There are still two more days of my spring break; I’m hoping to get in a little of that R&R I was so coveting. If I don’t, I’ll be okay. Attempting to refrain from blaming my mood on people or circumstances has really helped me identify my attachments, which is helping me lessen their hold over me. I still feel anger and resentment and disappointment, but none of those feelings is overwhelming.
That said, I still have a pretty big attachment to getting one day to myself this week. 😉
The Itch
I’ve got the itch.
The itch to buy shit.
I’m trying to figure out how to scratch it without spending money. I’m also trying to figure out what is causing it.
I just read a post asserting that the reason we own, and keeping buying, so much stuff is fear. Skimming through the post I didn’t disagree with his points. I’ve definitely packed too much for a vacation because I feared uncertainty and wanted to be ready for every conceivable eventuality. I keep things I should probably give away because I may “need” them some day. I can definitely see how fear pushes people to buy, and keep, things they don’t really need. I’m trying to recognize when fear is motivating me to spend.
Except fear does not seem to be behind this itch. The two things I most susceptible to purchasing are toys/clothes for my kids and clothes and shoes for myself. Those are my big achilles heels when it comes to frivolous spending. And I don’t think I buy toys and clothes out of fear.
I will admit that I used to buy toys for my kids out of fear, a desperate fear that I wouldn’t have any time or space for myself so maybe if I got this cool toy they might play with it for thirty minutes one day and I’d get a much needed break. I bought a lot of dumb toys in the hopes that they would distract my kids for any length of time, back when I was a new mother and the relentless consistency of their needs felt overwhelming. Now both my kids are old enough to play for 10-30 minutes by themselves with the toys we already have (well, sometimes) and I rarely buy something for it’s possible distraction value. (I’m also way more lenient when it comes to employing the magical powers of the TV.)
Now a days, I want to buy my kids toys because I think they would like them. My son just became obsessed with dinosaurs. We have a simple set of plastic dinosaurs from my daughter’s short lived obsession, along with three cute plush toys. We have a very simple puzzle (and the dinosaur-shaped pieces are think enough that they can even stand up and be played with). We already have a lot of different dinosaurs toys, and there is no need for us to have anymore, and yet I’ve found myself on Am.azon searching to see what’s available. I know more dinosaur toys are totally unnecessary, but I can’t keep myself from looking. (I haven’t bought anything yet! Yay!)
The thing is, I don’t really want anymore dinosaur toys. I’m still trying to par down the amount of toys we have–buying more would directly contradict my efforts to have less. And yet I still day dream about getting my son new dinosaurs, or his most recent Thomas train favorite, or whatever little thing I think would make him happy.
My daughter recently started wearing actual clothes when she’s not in her school uniform. For the past three years she has worn fancy princess nightgowns pretty much everywhere. I was fine with it–she had to wear a uniform at school (even preschool!), why shouldn’t she be able to wear a nightgown to the playground on the weekend? So she wore her nightgowns, and in the winter she wore cotton pajamas under her nightgowns, and that is what she’s been doing since she was three.
Well now she wants to wear real clothes and it’s been fun to get her some (or take her shopping with her Nana, so her Nana can get her some). But now she has enough, and I definitely don’t need to get her anymore, but it can be hard, when I find a shirt I know she’d love, not to get it for her.
I haven’t bought myself clothes in a long time–maybe six months? Maybe I bought an item here or there, but nothing substantial. For the past year I’ve been focusing on paring down my wardrobe–most weeks two or three things I wear end up in the give-away pile when I realize I don’t really like them anymore. I’m getting rid of a lot right now, as the days warm up and I retire my more winter-appropriate items until next school year.
But I don’t have any capris (my summer bottom of choice) that fit and most of my summer tops are looking pretty ragged, with visible pit stains or small holes. I feel like I could genuinely use some more summer clothes, but I’m also sure I could squeak by without them. The thing is, I know what look I’m into and when I’m wearing an outfit I love I feel good about myself. I know I’m not supposed to care what I wear, and successful people where the same thing every day, blah, blah, blah, but is it really so bad to want to feel good when I see myself in a mirror? Is it such a sin to express myself with what I wear?
I feel like I’m always second (and third and fourth and tenth) guessing myself when it comes to how I spend my money. I know the answer is a budget, and I know that budget should reflect my values, but I’m still struggling to work that out on my own. I know my husband and I need to figure this stuff out together, but he never wants to talk about it. It’s not that he’s avoiding the budget discussion specifically, he’s just tired and doesn’t want to talk about ANYTHING of substance. So I’m left tracking my own spending and trying to figure out what my own values are, because I don’t see us coming together as a united front on this stuff for a while, and while that’s frustrating, at least my husband’s spending is pretty consistent (watching his spending via our joint account has confirmed this), and I can figure things out well enough without his help, at least for a little while.
I just have the itch, you know, for some fun new capris, for an outfit I feel fabulous in. I do think my year-plus of budgeting and minimalizing our belongings has made me see spending in a really different way, but I still get the itch, and sometimes it’s really hard not to scratch.
What itches do you get? How do you avoid scratching them?
So close
I suppose I made it through the month without losing my shit, since it didn’t officially happen until this morning. So, yay me?
I really f*cking hate crying at work. I hate it with a passion.
At least it was during my prep, and I can always blame my red eyes on allergies.
I just have to get through five periods. I can totally get through five periods. I. can. do. this.
I started a new practice where every morning, after meditation, I vow to myself that I will refrain from blaming my negative emotions on other people or circumstances.
It has been a surprisingly enlightening experience. It really helps me put a little distance between my upset and the situation I believe is causing it. I still feel the full force of my emotions, but when they aren’t tied to something or someone I feel I can blame, they resolve much more quickly. It also helps me become aware of the attachments that are fueling my anger or sadness. What expectation is not being fulfilled? What specific outcome was I attached to and why? Without blame I can see my reactions for what they are, and respond to them more appropriately.
I will refrain from blaming my negative emotions on other people or circumstances.
It’s hard to remember, but always enlightening when I do.
Insignificant Ailments
I have a few little ailments right now, just minor things that are bothering me. None of them is particularly significant, but together they are wearing my down.
I have a planter’s wart on the base of my big toe that I notice here and there, especially when I run. I sprained my index finger a while ago and sometimes it’s really sore. I have a zit or something in my nose that I can’t get at and there are days (after I try in vain to decimate the sucker) when every sniffle or flare of my nostrils sends a shooting pain up past my eyes. My allergies are crazy right now, so the nose zit can be really distracting.
And the allergies. Oh the allergies! Most days I want to gouge my eyes out and rip apart my throat. Everything itches! None of the over-the-counter stuff is touching my symptoms, but I found some Rx steroid nasal spray that hadn’t expired in my medicine cabinet and two days of that has lessened my suffering somewhat. I’m also using my Neti-pot daily, but my sinus are so stuffed up that frequently the water goes down my throat, which burns like a motherf*cker. Also, some days it makes me ears hurt. I think my ears/nose/throat tubing is kind of whack.
There are a couple of other aches and pains that I’m constantly trying to stretch out or massage. It’s all so minor, and yet in symphony they are making me kind of miserable.
I’m also tired. So, so tired. (2-year-old sleep regression WHHHHYYYYY?!?!?!) That probably isn’t helping any.
Two more days until spring break. I need this time off so badly. I’m trying to figure out what I want to get done and how much time I can take just for me. There is so much on my to-do list, I know I won’t get to it all, and then I’ll feel stressed and frustrated. I’m trying to prioritize and be realistic about what I can accomplish–not my strong suits.
I was day dreaming last night about what my spring break would look like if I could do what I really wanted: sleep in, eat out, get a massage, see a couple movies, get together with friends, luxuriate with a book on my bed (not clean my house, not go to work). Some of those dreams can’t come true: my daughter has school all next week so I’ll be up at 6am to get ahead of the morning routine and my friend cancelled on our night away so I’ll be home every morning. But I can approximate some what I dream of: I can afford to get lunch with my husband once and I could manage a 30 minute chair massage at the mall. I might be able to see a movie at the matinee price. All of my friends will be working, so I can’t meet up with anyone, but I can make time to read a book in bed (I just have to work at luxuriating in reading the book, and not spend the whole time thinking of everything else I could be doing).
If I work it right, I might just find the right balance of productivity and pampering. I just printed out a page with a space for each day and I’m starting to map it out. Five days seems like so much time, but when I pencil in the appointments I’ve made, and the day volunteering at my daughter’s school, and the day I need to spend at work organizing my room, correcting papers and planning, suddenly it doesn’t seem like much time at all. Especially when each day starts with taking the kids to school and ends, at 4:30pm, when I pick them up.
But it’s so much better than teaching. I have to remember that. And if I fit in a few of those things I really want to do, I might finish the week feeling refreshed. Hopefully the zit in my nose will be gone by then too. 😉
Deactivated
I knew March was going to kick my ass. It is doing just that.
Only four more days until my spring break. I’m digging in my heals and just trying to get through. Right now four days feels like an eternity.
I deactivated my FB account yesterday. I came to the decision suddenly, and then, surprisingly, I followed through.
I was looking at posts and feeling shitty and it suddenly occurred to me that FB no longer provides me with any positive feeling, let alone one that resembles joy. I’m not quite sure when the shift happened, but as soon as I noticed it, I resolved to shut my account down for a while.
I’m feeling more ambivalent about actually doing it than I expected. Deactivating an account isn’t such a big deal; I can always turn it back on. But it does feel weird not to be connected to others, and the world, in that way. Part of me worries I’ll feel more isolated than before, but I suppose isolation is better than what I was feeling when I was on there, and the reality is, that feeling had nothing to do with connection.
I’m not sure when I’ll reactivate my account, but my guess is I’ll stay off for at least a month. I think I need a reminder of what it’s like to live without FB, to get through a day without scrolling mindlessly, to avoid the sad, empty feeling I get in my chest most of the time that I’m on.
Without FB I’ll be opting out of almost all social media. I haven’t been on Twitter or Instagram in many years. I still read blogs but most of what shows up in my reader is of the “how to” variety these days–very few of the personal bloggers I once read still post anymore. I can always email and text people when I need some connection, and of course write here. Otherwise I’ll be kind of off the grid, as far as consuming content is concerned. I think that will be for the best.
Have you ever taken a break from social media? What was it like?
Giving a f*ck
I need to find a marriage counselor and make an appointment.
I don’t really want to.
I’m so tired of working on my marriage. So, so tired. It’s just hard to give a fuck anymore, you know? I mean, how many fucks should I be expected to give.
All the fucks. I should be willing to give all the fucks when my marriage is at stake. I know this.
Honestly, if I had the name and number of someone I would call. Today. I would do the intake interview and make the appointment and tell my husband when and where to be.
But I don’t have a name, and I don’t know where to start looking for one. It’s not an easy thing to get a referral for. It’s not something you ask your friends about, you know? Not that I mind admitting we’re having problems, but it puts people in an awkward place because it assumes they have had problems themselves.
Of course my husband and I could look together, but I guarantee you if I bring it up tonight my husband will sigh deeply, participate resentfully, and communicate how frustrated he is to be spending his limited and precious free time looking for marriage counselors with everything except his actual words. Is it even worth enduring that negativity? I should just suck it up and do it myself.
Ironically, that cycle of my avoiding his negativity, doing it myself and then feeling resentful about having to do it myself is a big part of why we’re going to counseling.
We’re both so tired, it’s genuinely hard to give a fuck. Especially when we’re so good at just getting through the days without actually getting upset at each other. Things aren’t even bad right now, but the minute something starts to chafe, we’ll be back at it again.
Which is why I need to find a marriage counselor. I guess I’ll do that today.
The Answer
Of course the answer to my question from earlier today is obvious. What is there to love about parenting? My kids. And I do love them. Fiercely.
I can imagine you all must doubt that I feel anything positive about parenting. I will admit that some days, I don’t. But the good moments with my kids, when they happen, surpass the good of most other things in my life. They really can be a potent source of joy.
Here are just a few things I love about my children, and parenting them, right now:
The way my daughter bounces through life. When she’s happy, my daughter exudes joy and enthusiasm. She can be a bright, bright light.
Watching my daughter learn to read and thinking of all the amazing books we will share, and the movies we will watch, and the conversations about them we’ll have.
When my daughter does something for me, without me asking, just to make me smile.
Wrastling with my daughter on her bed, cracking fart jokes and laughing until our sides hurt.
When my daughter asks some incredible question that shows how much she’s thinking about the world, like: Mommy, who was the first person and how did he get here? What was here before the water and the sand?
When I see my daughter be a good friend to someone else.
When I watch my daughter learn something new.
The way my son talks, so excited just to be able to vocalize his thoughts in a way others understand.
The intense excitement of my son’s words when he asks his sister to do something or realizes she wants to play with him.
When my son yells Mommy! and runs to me when I pick him up from school, and how he always tells me, first thing, “I played with my friends!”
The way my son rubs his blankie between his fingers when he’s self-soothing after an upset.
The softness of his face when I smother my son with kisses.
The intense concentration with which my son turns to me when I ask for “a hug and a mooch.”
The weight of my son’s body on my chest when he asks for “snuggles on the big chair.”
The sound of my son’s laugh.
There is more, so much more. And these bright spots really are amazing. I just wish there were more of them in any given day, and I wish I wasn’t so exhausted from all the emotional managing to appreciate them more.
What’s to love?
I love my children. I really do. And I can genuinely enjoy spending time with them, one on one, especially if it’s the weekend and we have some time and we’re doing something fun.
But most days? Parenting is just hard. It’s not fun. It’s not even enjoyable. It’s tiresome and relentless, and difficult. A lot of the time I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing, and I worry I’m getting it wrong, and damaging my kids, forever.
I feel like yesterday is a good example of a day in the life of parenting for me.
TIRED: Wake up at 5:45am, exhausted because my kids were up four times and I didn’t sleep well in between. Go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. Sit down to meditate for 15 minutes. Hear my son cry out just as my meditation app signals me to take a deep breath. Get off pillow and check in with my son. Warm up some milk, change his diaper while he drinks it, acquiesce to his pleads for “snuggle time,” spend the five minutes lying next to him feeling sure that now I’m going to be late.
FRUSTRATED: Sit back down on pillow and start to meditate. Hear my husband’s alarm go off, wonder why he isn’t getting up. Try to focus on my breathing. Feel relieved when my meditation timer finally goes off. See that I’m 10 minutes late to get into my daughter’s room.
RESIGNED: Finish packing my daughter’s lunch and school bag. Wake her up for snuggle time. She’s upset to hear we don’t have as much time as usually. We listen to an audiobook to wake up. She is in a bad mood and just generally grouchy. She yells at me a lot, but I try to be nice.
PANICKED: Hurry to get dressed. Realize the shirt I picked out has a big stain. Find a new outfit. Try to get ready in the bathroom while my husband is showering. Pour myself coffee. Attempt to soothe my son, who is crying loudly. Drag my daughter out of bed to eat breakfast. Return to my son who is in full meltdown mood. Try to escape to the car, but can’t leave when my soon is screaming for cuddles. Sit with him on the couch, resigned to the fact that I’ll be late for work for sure today.
{Usually I bring my daughter to school in the morning but twice a week this month I go early and her friend’s father picks her up for school.}
REALLY PANICKED: Fly downstairs and try to pull out of my garage but realize some asshole is parked a foot into my driveway. Maneuver my car out of the small space they left for me. Wish I could leave a note on his window. Jump on the freeway. Feel thankful that the traffic isn’t too bad. Realize I’m still going to be late. Call a friend and ask her to cover my class for the first five minutes.
RELIEVED: Fight the insane traffic (it’s really bad right by my work) and arrive five minutes late. Teach one FLEX class. Teach another FLEX class. Eat lunch alone in my classroom, reading a book on my Kindle and feeling lonely.
EXASPERATED: Get a call during my third class of the day (when I’m standing in front of my class, teaching) that my son bit a kid and is being sent home. It’s his third biting offense, and the second time he bit a specific kid. Waste 7 minutes of my class’s time trying to get a hold of my husband (he never answers) and then finally get a hold of my MIL who agrees to pick up my son. Feel relieved and grateful that I don’t have to make sub plans and leave early, but also feel super frustrated that my son is biting other kids and getting sent home. Have a hard time focusing during the rest of my classes. Count the minutes until the end of the day.
FURTIVE: Sneak out of work ten minutes early to avoid the traffic from the other school getting out. Rush home, make my daughter a sandwich, pick her up from after care and take her to swimming.
SURPRISED: Talk my daughter down twice during swim lessons when she starts to panic because she’s scared. Wonder if the swim teacher is looking at me like that because she doesn’t want me to interfere or is just annoyed that my kids is hyperventilating. Decide I don’t care. Spent 10 minutes when she gets out showing empathy and reminding her that she’s not in the water anymore and no one is asking her to get the rocked from the bottom of the pool. Assure her she can wait and do it when she’s a teenager.
SUPREMELY FRUSTRATED: Reminder daughter she has to finish her sandwich before she can eat her after-swimming treat. Spend another 10 minutes getting her dressed and trying not to lose it with her while gently reminding her that if she doesn’t want to eat the sandwich, she doesn’t have to eat the sandwich, but then no treat. Spend the entire drive home gripping the steering wheel while she complains about not wanting to eat the sandwich, and that she hates sandwiches, and why does she have to eat the whole sandwich? Finally lose it and yell: You asked for a sandwich, you won’t eat any other food, just don’t eat the sandwich if you don’t want to but no treat if that’s your choice!
OVERWHELMED: Get home. Help your daughter upstairs. Greet son. Listen to MIL’s suggestions about ways to get son to stop biting. Nod head politely and bite tongue. Get pulled inside by son’s screams. Find him melting down because his sister won’t let him in her room. Try to keep him safe as he flails his arms and throws himself on the floor. Show him empathy and caring for 20+ minutes while he screams. Try not to look at watch and think about how much this is pushing back dinner, bath time and bedtime.
WORN DOWN: Set my son up in front of the TV. Turn on Thomas. Make him dinner. Help him watch dinner while he watches TV (Yes, I know, the cardinal parenting sin).
DISAPPOINTED: Try to convince daughter to play in the bath with son for 5-10 minutes because it would make him SO HAPPY. Try not to judge her when she refuses. Strip son down as you explain that big sister probably won’t be joining him. Try not to let his broken heart break my heart. Have son’s bath all ready when daughter shows up needing to go number 2. Let her go because she refuses to share the space. Forget that son is running around without a diaper. Pester daughter to finish quickly and NO BOOKS! Help her wipe. Panic as son calls out that there is a BIG POOP! Find his big poop on the carpet. Clean it up. Get him in the bath. Wash his hair while he wails that he doesn’t like it. Fill up the tub with bubbles.
GRATEFUL: Feel so happy when daughter agrees to play with her brother for a little bit. Referee their time together. Make appointment with new pediatrician to talk about daughter’s excessively restrictive eating. Get son’s room ready for bed. Pull him out and go through bedtime routine. Leave him to look at books. Wash daughter’s hair. Do a quick snuggle with son and kiss daughter goodbye. Head out to see friend who’s in town for a couple of nights.
I love my kids, and am grateful to be their mom, but most days I don’t enjoy parenting. Every minute is hurried and stressed and frustrating. I’m trying to approach this “season” with different expectations, but it’s hard when most moments with my kids involve talking them down from an emotional cliff (while trying to keep them from hitting themselves or me) or hurrying them through the next thing on the list.
This is probably a normal day in the world of the mothers of young kids. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me. I don’t know why those few moments of snuggle time, or the quick hug I sometimes get aren’t enough. And I know this is just a season, but the most common response to me vocalizing my discontent with early motherhood is Bigger kids, bigger problems! Enjoy them while they’re small! Which I’m assuming means it gets harder as your kids get older. If that is the case, I’m in serious trouble.
Things really do feel hard right now. My “easy” kid is angry and aggressive most of the time. My other kid is obstinate and quick to lose it. Most moments are spent reacting to their unexpected upsets, negotiating to get something done, or refereeing every interaction between them. It’s exhausting and not very pleasant. It wears me down. It wears my husband down. It tears at my resolve and our marriage. It’s just a really challenging place to be, and it leaves me wondering, most days, What’s to love about parenting?
The Deep Water
A close friend from college is due in a couple of weeks and I’ve been chatting with her a lot about the crazy transformation she’s about to experience.
Well, chatting around it, because I get the feeling she doesn’t want me to talk directly about it, at least not yet.
It’s been almost six years since I became a mother and I’m still reeling from the insanity of that life changing transition. Being a mom was something I wanted, and thought about becoming, for my entire life. All my other dreams and plans took a backseat to having children. So when motherhood didn’t end up being the life affirming panacea I was expecting, I was a little traumatized.
I also ended up with a kid who requires a little more of, well, everything. Parenting a kid like that can be isolating. I’ve found it difficult to make friends with other moms because we aren’t generally coming from a place of shared experience. We feel differently about parenting because we experience it in vastly different ways, not just because of who we are individually, but because of who our kids are.
I’ve learned to participate in conversations about parenthood without sharing my whole truth. What I portray is not a lie exactly, but a carefully considered set of omissions. I tell people what they expect to hear, and if they respond a certain way to strategically dropped hints, I might divulge more. But most of the time I stick to the fellow-parent-approved script, and we wade into the shallow water of culturally appropriate topics, staying on message as we walk carefully to avoid the messy splashing of actual truth.
I feel the need to do this even with my closer friends, most of whom are just now becoming parents. Sometimes I’ll venture out into the deeper waters of authentic experience, but I almost always find myself alone there, my friend staring blankly at my from the safety of the shore.
It’s hard for me to know what is the right thing to say, especially with my friend who is about to give birth. I know I can’t prepare her for the intensity of what is about to happen, and the last thing I want to do is add to her anxiety in any way, but I also want her to know that I’m here for her if it’s hard. That I’m prepared to dive head first into the deep water with her, if she ever needs someone to really talk to. I guess I can say that to her at least, and hope she believes me, and comes to me if she ever feels like she’s drowning among the strong currents of new motherhood.
My two friends do have each other, and they seem much more comfortable talking to one another about these things than they are talking to me about them. For that I am thankful, because I know how important it is to have someone you feel comfortable talking to. I would hate for them to have to go through it alone.
It’s been almost six years and I’m only now feeling comfortable in the deep water of motherhood. The currents are still sometimes strong, but I know how to navigate them. I have learned to float in the calm waters, instead of trying to swim to shore. And I know that if I do get pulled down in a vicious riptide, that letting it pull me is safer than flailing desperately in an attempt to get free. It may feel like I’m under forever, but eventually the current will drag me up again, and just when I think I can’t endure it any longer, I’ll reach the surface, and be able to breathe.