Parenting & Family

Not So Positive (on) Parenting

Posted on by noemikjames / 37 Comments

I’m struggling to find my way back to this space. Where I used to cherish the opportunity to process hard experiences and confusing feelings in a post; now I dread it. If I have a little time at the end of the evening, I briefly consider writing, but almost immediately put it aside to make time for reading a book or watching mindless TV. I just don’t want to expend the mental and emotional energy needed to wade through the muck.

Right now there is a lot of muck. I have to wade through it, but I haven’t been all the interested in waxing philosophical about what wading through it is really about.

I’m not sure if this is the beginning of the slow and drawn out death of my blog. While a huge part of me considers the possibility with teenager-like apathy, there is a small voice buried deep beneath the growing layers of lassitude that begs me to fight this stubborn insouciance. Just write something, anything, and see how it feels.

So in proper me fashion, I’m going to write one of the harder posts, on a topic I’ve been avoiding for a looooooooong time. If writing here can help me process this, maybe there really is hope for my blog.

It’s no big proclamation, at least not in this space, for me to say I feel a lot of ambivalence toward parenting. I see myself as someone who has always been a little more outspoken than most in declaring the negative aspects of raising children in this day and age. I’ve always told myself that I write (and talk) about the hard parts of parenting because I think we need to change the dialogue around parenting in general, but motherhood more specifically, because it can be detrimental to new (and even more experiences) mothers. I believe our society puts motherhood on a pedestal that creates unattainable expectations and damaging standards against which women judge themselves and their experiences. I believe talking more openly and honestly about what parenting is really like will help us all feel less isolated and more successful.

Yes, that is what I’ve been telling myself for the past almost five years. Except lately I’ve been wondering if I’m so outspoken about the underbelly of parenting, because I don’t actually like parenting that much.

Wow, it’s amazing how hard it was just to write that sentence. It’s incredible the deep fear I have of being judged and rejected for admitting that I’m exploring the possibility that I don’t enjoy parenting, at least at this stage.

Because, let’s face it, it is truly something WE DO NOT vocalize in our society. To say you don’t like parenting is tantamount to declaring you don’t like your kids (even though they are completely different things). I remember how people crucified Ayelet Waldman for saying she loved her husband more than her children, and loving someone more than someone else still leaves a lot of room to love that someone else. What happens if someone says they not only don’t love parenting, but they don’t even really like it?

But let me back up a a bit.

It all started earlier this year when I began seeking out new women to build friendships with. For the first time in a long time I was introducing myself to other women who didn’t know me at all, intentionally selecting what I wanted to share about myself and carefully tailoring how I presented it. Interestingly, none of the women I’ve met this year have children, and even more interestingly, I’ve been really excited about that. Women without children are so much easier to meet up with, and they never want to talk about kids and all the mundane drudgery required in having them. Turns out I have very little trouble avoiding the topic of my own children, and I’ve really enjoyed talking to other women about the myriad other subjects women talk about before motherhood hijacks their lives and their identities.

Of course the subject of me having children usually comes up, and I am obligated to provide a quick summary of my family and my experience parenting. I keep this part short and sweet, assuming that a person without kids doesn’t want to hear much about mine.

{It’s been interesting to see how I choose (usually in the moment) to present our family building experience. I hope to write more on this later, as I’ve thought about it a lot.}

There are times, though, when someone else broaches the subject and I’m asked to talk more about my kids or motherhood or parenting in general. It is in these conversations that I’m struck by what comes out of my mouth. Sometimes I walk away wondering if my new friends think I hate being a mother. The truth is that most of the time, I can’t think of very many nice things to say about the day to day realities of raising kids.

A lot of the time I find myself envying my new friends’ childfree lifestyles.

Now if this isn’t sacrilege to declare in public, it sure as hell is in this community. How can I talk about how I don’t really like parenting right now to a bunch of women who fought long, hard, tragic, traumatizing battles to be doing (or in the hopes of doing) that which I clearly don’t appreciate myself? I can’t think of a way to seem more ungrateful for the amazing children in my life.

Oh. My. Gawd. The. Guilt.

And here is the thing (and yes, I feel like I have to say this because I’m hyperventilating right now): I love my kids. I love being their mother. They are incredible beings and I am humbled by the massive responsibility I’ve been entrusted with. I feel incredibly fortunate to bear witness to their journey through life and I hope I can serve as a decent mentor and guide, now and always.

I am very grateful for my children, and I would sacrifice anything to keep them safe, but the day to day task of raising them in not something I enjoy. In fact, right now, it’s downright unpleasant.

And because this ended up being a 2000+ word post, I’m going to stop until tomorrow. If you feel compelled to comment today, please be gentle.

To be continued…

Health & Well Being/Identity/Life

Insecurities and Self-Advocacy

Posted on by noemikjames / 12 Comments

I electronically accepted the terms of my life insurance policy this weekend. I have continued to feel a lot of ambivalence about purchasing this policy, and a lot of shame and regret about my ADD meds resulting in an increased premium. Whether or not I NEED my medication and whether or not I should stay on it is a source of constant anxiety for me, and to be financially penalized for doing so has brought up a lot of difficult and painful feelings for me.

I’m not sure what finally compelled me to call them about it this morning. I suppose having actually accepted the policy and paying for the first month was part of it. I knew I had a month to terminate the policy if I found another provider that wouldn’t penalize me as much (or at all) for my prescription and I wanted to call them to see if it were possible to stop taking my medication for 12-18 months and then either reapply or request a reclassification.

The person I spoke to was very kind and very helpful, as has been everyone I’ve dealt with there–the customer service at this company is exemplary. He explained that I could submit a letter from my doctor explaining that my prescription is not for a life-threatening condition and that it does not represent the existence of, or pose, any immediate or long term health risks. The underwriter can then determine if I am eligible for the reduced rate.

My psychiatrist is amazing and already wrote me the letter and put it in the mail. I’m not sure if this will qualify me for the reduced rate but I’m so glad I’m at least making the attempt. I can’t figure out why I didn’t ask about this immediately; it seems the shame, regret and self-blame was paralyzing me. (I’ll be thinking about why this was a lot in the coming weeks.) I REALLY hope that this letter works, and if it doesn’t, I’ll be contacting them again to see if I can stop taking my medication for a certain amount of time and again request a review for a reduced rate. I’ll also shop around and see if there are other providers that won’t penalize me as much, or at all.

Identity/Writing

Missing My Compulsion

Posted on by noemikjames / 13 Comments

Things have calmed down a bit this week. I’ve had some time to write. The problem is, I haven’t wanted to.

I have a long list of post ideas, but I can’t seem to get excited about writing any of them.

I tried to force myself to write a post that has been bouncing around in my head for about a month. It didn’t end well.

It’s weird, not wanting to write. It’s usually, quite literally, a compulsion, and when that compulsion is gone, and there isn’t even a vague desire taking its place, I start to feel panicky. What does it mean? What if I never want to write again? I ignore these thoughts, pick up a good book, or open FB, or turn on the TV, and go about my day.

It could be said that I’m reading an interesting piece of fiction.

It could be mentioned that I found an awesome new Spanish language series on HBO and have to give it all my attention to understand.

It could be posited that there simply isn’t enough time, especially now that I’ve recognized the very real, and very negative effects of the 4-5 hours of (usually broken) sleep I’ve grown accustomed to, and have started falling into bed the minute I’ve left my daughter’s room.

It could be suggested that, during the beginning of the trimester, when three classes worth of plans need to be prepared for, I can’t spend half an hour before school writing a blog post.

There are plenty of reasons I could give (you all, and myself) for why I’m not writing, but the truth is I could find the time. I could put down the book. I could set aside the TV show. I could write. That is what I usually do. I write even though there are a hundred more pressing obligations. I write because there are a hundred more pressing obligations, but writing compels me in ways dish washing and laundry folding and paper grading (and even book reading and TV watching) don’t.

But that being compelled? It just isn’t there. I’d rather put on Girls and grade papers. I’d rather curl up on my bed with an honest-to-god, paperback book. I’d even rather put in my earbuds and load the dishwasher (even though that’s not my job!).

Just writing this post has required three attempts. Clearly, something is just not there right now.

And it makes me wonder what it is, what invisible force usually compels me. It makes me wonder where it went, and it if will ever be back.

I’m not freaking out. Not yet. I assume it will return. And in the meantime I’m cutting myself some slack, because really, there is no reason for me to write. I do feel obligations to the people who read me, but I don’t feel delinquent in meeting those obligations, at least not yet. And I know that if I ever had to bow out of my unwritten agreement with all of you, you’d accept my reasons graciously.

Much more graciously than I would accept them myself.

So I guess I’m taking a break. I’m not sure if it will be a long, protracted silence or a short jaunt away. I don’t know if it will be peppered with sporadic posts, or marked by a complete absence. I don’t know when my muse will return, but I’m not going to go knocking on doors trying to find her. She knows where I live.

See you all on the other side.

{Post Script. I DO want to keep responding to comments and I know I’ve been spotty about that. I plan to get caught up this weekend and stay caught up. I apologize for my absence in my own comment section. I will remedy that presently.}

What compels you to write? Does the urge ever go away? Do you push through when it’s gone, or just stop writing for a while?

Uncategorized

Neither Here Nor There

Posted on by noemikjames / 12 Comments

Sunday night my five hours of sleep was broken every 1-1.5 hours by an inconsolable boy who can’t yet express his needs. It was exhausting.

Hauling my ass out of bed at 5am on Monday morning felt damn near impossible.

* * *

At work, Monday was one of those days where I’m perpetually behind and I spend the precious spare moments of every period frantically trying to get things ready for the next period. I couldn’t even get my coffee made until after my first break, over half way through my teaching day. Days like yesterday grind me into the ground. I could barely keep my eyes open on my commute home.

* * *

Sharing my medical history with my would-be life insurance provider has been a very negative experience for me. I didn’t realize how much I cherished the privacy of my medical information until I had to share it with a non-medical provider. I hated having someone at my house taking my vitals, determining if I measured up. The whole thing felt incredibly invasive and it’s taken me a while to work through the feelings it has brought up. Maybe more on this later? I’m not sure.

* * *

My husband was away at SXSW in Austin for five days. Now he is back. I missed him and glad’s he’s home, but my house was a lot cleaner when my mother and in-laws were here in the morning covering his “shift.”

* * *

I started searching for jobs in my area this weekend and, as I suspected, there isn’t much. I realize I have to decide what I’m comfortable pursuing. Do I want to work at a private high school for gifted and talented kids? Not really, but am I willing to? Maybe… I found a few positions that I would be very interested in if the worst bridge in history didn’t sit between where I live and the school that’s hiring. Maybe I will apply to those to practice writing cover letters and maybe even interviewing, if I even get that far. The idea of doing all the work for a job I know I wouldn’t take might be hard for me to actually do, and part of me is worried that if I did get it I’d say fuck it and try to brave the most horrendous traffic in an area with truly soul crushing traffic. I’m realizing that my current set up is pretty awesome in a lot of ways. My commute is very manageable, I make good pay and I have a decent schedule. It might be harder to find something that doesn’t require a hit in all those areas than I thought.

* * *

Having said that, I’m feeling more negatively about work than I have in a long time. Mostly I just dread my work day because it feels boring and I don’t want to do the same thing I’ve been doing for ten years. I keep reminding myself that I can change what I’m doing, I have the ability to switch things around, I just need to find the time to prepare my lesson plans accordingly. I have a few things I want to try this year that I’ve never done before, but I’m not sure I’ll have the energy or time… I’m trying really hard not to get into a negative head space about work, because that pit of quicksand is hard to crawl out of once I’m stuck fast in the muck of it.

* * *

I have a LOT to write about budget and money stuff, but I want to dedicate a few actual posts to it. Needless to say, this month has been eye opening, and while I’m not proud of what my spending looks like, I’m thrilled that I’m still writing down all my purchases. I look forward to documenting a few more months of spending as I lay out a more accurate budget and start planning some bigger expenditures down the road.

* * *

I want to write more about minimalism. I think about it a lot. I oscillate between feeling like I’m failing and accepting that I’m embracing a version of it that works for me. I hope I can keep moving in a more minimalist direction but it’s so hard for me. Why do I love stuff so much? Ugh. Stuff is my downfall and yet I crave it constantly…

* * *

I’m feeling better about my daughter’s school but the aftercare situation (or almost lack thereof) is really stressing me out. How do they only have 20 slots in the rec and park program? How can the registration date for this elusive program be in MID JULY?! How can all these parents pick up their kids at 1:50pm every day!? This is when being a working mom is logistically super stressful. These thoughts consume me.

* * *

This being a VERY expensive city to live in (maybe the most expensive city in the US right now), where a lot of women wait to start having children until their mid to late 30s, there are a sizable number of families at my daughter’s day care with only one child (by choice). March has been “birthday month” and I’ve been taking the kids by myself to most of the parties. I’ve really noticed how the parents with one kid at these soirees can chat contentedly with other parents (sometimes even holding meaningful conversations for prolonged periods of time) while those of us with two kids run in circles like a chicken with its head cut off, constantly scrambling to keep track of two kids, let alone meet their frequently contrasting needs. The parents with one kid seem well dressed and well rested, and they seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves. Those of us with two kids seem harried and frenzied, unable to manage the basic logistics of the the immediate moment. We are weary and we are overwhelmed, and we fail utterly in our desperate attempts to maintain even a simple dialogue. This is not meant to be a commentary on the realities of having two kids versus one, just something I’ve been noticing.

* * *

I’m typing this to the soundtrack of our leaky bathtub. We’re in a REALLY BAD drought here so I’m catching the water in a bucket and using that water to fill the toilet basin when we flush (only 4-5 times a day). Yes, that means I have to take the super heavy lid off and clumsily pour a ton of water in the top part, while inevitably spilling a bunch on the floor. I have to do it though, other wise the guilt subsumes me. And yes, calling the plumber is on my to-do list. (Just texted him! Yay!)

* * *

I guess I’ll stop here. This got long and it’s been whiny since its inception. Things aren’t all bad, in fact there is plenty good to celebrate: I’m all caught up on contract work, we’ll have our tax refund in a couple of months, and I’m planning some fun things for this summer… There is a lot of good stuff to write about and I promise I’ll do that soon.

How was the start of your week?

Identity/Life

Officially Looking

Posted on by noemikjames / 15 Comments

These last couple of weeks have been really hectic. It was a perfect storm of converging obligations. First there was the end of the trimester, with all the grading and inputting of those grades that entails. Then there was the contract work I agreed to do for the father of one of my students who is putting out an education game for kids in Spanish. I didn’t agree to do this for the money, but because I love working in my second language and thought it would be fun to see what goes into creating an app like this. Also, I think it’s awesome they are making this app and really want to get it for my own kids! (Of course it’s requiring more time than they thought it would, but I’m still glad I’m doing it.) Finally, there was the stress of our Kindergarten placement and my increasing levels of panic as we waited to hear where we got in.

Add in a couple birthday parties, a dinner party at my parents’ house and an ill-timed date night (that my husband just would not let me back out of) and the last two weeks have been super crazy. I’m running on 4-5 hours of sleep and am just totally exhausted.

While all that was going on, my good friend at work (I have a good friend at work! Yay!) alerted me to an email (that I had missed in my own inbox) about job opportunities at a local alternative high school in the area: they were looking for Spanish teachers and she thought I should check it out.

Cue more stress.

My friend got to work investigating the school because they basically had her dream position opening up. I was way too swamped with all of my own shit to do much work on it myself, but the seed was germinating and I had every intention of putting together my application once things calmed down.

I felt a lot of conflicting emotions as I considered applying for a new job: excitement, enthusiasm, fear, anxiety, ambivalence. On the one hand I could finally make a move, once we knew were my daughter was going to Kindergarten, on the other hand making a huge transition myself, when my family would be making the biggest transitions of our (as a family) lives, seemed like a poor choice.

When I found out my daughter got into a school we liked in the city, one of my first thoughts was about the job. Now I could definitely apply!

Except as I looked into it I realized this school was REALLY not a good fit for me. They had an extended day, and school year, and despite working more hours I’d be making less money. At this point I’m prepared to take a pay cut to work somewhere else (I’ll probably have to) but I’m not prepared to be away from my kids more while I take that cut. Especially not next year, when they will both need me more than ever.

I expected to feel a flood of relief once I realized I just couldn’t apply for the job. Instead I felt a very real disappointment. I was actually quite upset that I couldn’t apply for the job.

Then we had a staff meeting where certain realities were presented about what the next couple of years will look like while they build a new campus on our site, reorganize our existing infrastructure to incorporate this new building and its students, and attempt to accommodate 50 more students at our own school without actually building any new classrooms. By the end of the meeting, and the staff bitch fest that followed, I was absolutely crestfallen that I couldn’t apply for that job.

And that’s when I decided that I was going to start looking. Clearly I am more interested in leaving my current position than I realized. When I think about staying here the words that rise up are pretty negative: stagnant, disappointed, uninspired, bored. There are other words, like easy and comfortable that might be worth embracing for a year or two, while my daughter transitions to a K-8 school and my son transitions to group care.

All that to say, I’m officially looking for a new job. I’m putting that intention out there, into the universe, so that hopefully I will find my way to whatever position is right for me.

My friend also decided the alternative school was not the right fit (for different reasons) and we’ve decided to come together in our efforts to find new teaching positions at a higher level. I think with her support and encouragement, I will be way more inclined to actually search out, and apply for, new opportunities.

I know next year isn’t the best for me to make this kind of big transition, but I also know how hard it is to find high school Spanish positions and I really want to apply for jobs that seem like a good fit for me and my teaching style, which will be even fewer and farther between. If something comes up this year I don’t want to miss the opportunity, and if something doesn’t I’ll hopefully be in a better position to find something in the coming years, when a big transition for me won’t be so taxing for my family.

If you’d asked me a month ago if I was going to look for a new job after my daughter was placed for Kindergarten I would have said absolutely not. I just didn’t think there was a high enough chance I’d be more fulfilled in a new position. I was very surprised by how disappointed I was to find out this recent opportunity wasn’t a good fit for me and that I couldn’t apply. I clearly am more interested in leaving my job than I thought, and I’m very thankful this situation arose so I could learn that.

What circumstances have led you to search for new jobs over the years? What were the results of those searches?

Uncategorized

School Days

Posted on by noemikjames / 21 Comments

{I’m sorry I’m delinquent in posting this. It’s been a crazy couple of days and I have wanted to take the time to actually write something of substance, and unfortunately this week was just too nuts. I also felt like an asshat posting something like this when a friend I care for dearly are grieving the family she will never have. I mean, if that doesn’t offer some perspective, I don’t know what would.

And then… I finally wrote this on Tuesday and had it set to go up on Wednesday and it did, as a new PAGE on my blog! What a rookie move!

And then…. people couldn’t comment on the post. So I’m posting it yet again. Jeez!

Now, without further ado, the post about my daughter’s Kindergarten placement. Take three!}

As I mentioned before, San Francisco Unified School District (SFUSD) mailed their Kindergarten placements last Friday. I originally assumed we’d get it Monday, but then the mother of an older child (whose younger sibling is in my daughter’s class) said we’d probably get it Saturday, since it only had to travel within the city. I was super excited to have two fewer days of waiting, and dug in my heals for the final count down.

Of course it didn’t arrive Saturday and I spent a quick to Target (birthday presents for seven parties anyone?) raging against the insanity of the ridiculous system. As the weekend wore on, I felt more and more resentment at having to participate in this insane lottery and for having virtually no say over one of the bigger decisions most parents make.

Finally Monday came. I was doubly nervous that morning because not only was I waiting on this all-important piece of mail, but I also had an appointment with the pelvic pain specialist that was three months in the making (it was rescheduled twice). If this woman didn’t have any answers for me, I knew nobody would.

It was hard to concentrate at work. I was reminded of the impossibly long days before ultrasounds in the early months of my pregnancies, when I worried every prenatal appointment might be the harbinger of devastating news. Finally, my last class was over and I had to pay close attention to my speedometer to stay under 80 miles an hour on the drive home.

During my commute, a good friend (whose daughter is in my daughter’s class) texted to say that she got Paul Revere Spanish Immersion. That was our second choice, and I knew it was high on her list as well. I was thrilled for her, and responded telling her so. But I also recognized that very real sprouting of jealously in my stomach, and the forming of a new fear I hadn’t considered before: what if everyone else got into schools of their choice, and we don’t.

I can’t really explain why this kindergarten placement letter meant so much to me. I’ve tried hard to understand it myself over the past week. On three separate occasions I woke up from nightmares about opening the letter only to see words I couldn’t read. I knew I had to stop stressing about it, but I couldn’t seem to let go of the fact that I had no control.

I still don’t really understand why this was so important to me. What I do know is that that one of my biggest goals as a parent is for my children to be legitimately bilingual. I know I’ve worked really hard over the last almost-five years to give my daughter a strong foundation in Spanish, but I doubt I could ensure she’d be a proficient (let alone bilingual) speaker without a formal education. I’ve also seen what an incredible student of language my daughter is, and I know that in the right environment she will absolutely thrive in both English and Spanish. Finally, all the stories I’ve heard about the SFUSD have instilled a very real (and most assuredly accurate) belief that I have absolutely no say in the outcome of where she would ultimately be placed, despite all the subsequent “rounds” available to try for other schools after the first placement.

All that to say, I was really nervous when I finally came to a screeching halt in front of my house Monday afternoon. My hands were literally shaking as I tore open the envelope. At first I couldn’t figure out where on the page to look, but then I saw it: Program: Spanish Immersion. School: Paul Revere.

We got our second choice.

This, of course, is amazing news. I immediately felt a huge amount of relief. My child can continue her bilingual education. All the work of the last five years will not be in vain.

And my friend’s daughter will be there too! We can continue our friendship easily with our kids at the same school!

I have every reason to be totally thrilled by the news we received. And I am. My daughter will be in Kindergarten next year (how is that even possible?!), at a Spanish Immersion school. It’s what I always wanted.

And yet as the days pass I feel so much ambivalence. This is such a huge choice and I can’t know if I’m making the right one for my daughter or our family. Will we be able to get her there by 7:50am every day without huge issues? Will we be able to secure a spot in the aftercare program? Will my daughter thrive in that environment? Will she be challenged? Will be exposed to great teaching?

I thought knowing she was in a Spanish Immersion program was all that I cared about, but of course, like most things in life, it’s so much more complicated than that.

Yes I’m happy. Yes I’m relieved. Yes I’m excited. But I’m also scared, and unsure and nervous and confused.

How did you, or do you, plan to choose your child’s school? Are you happy with where they are, or will be, going?

Life

Some days

Posted on by noemikjames / 11 Comments

Some days, I make it to work with a few minutes to spare, even though my son woke up 4 times during my measly five hours of sleep, and I have time to write a blog post.

Some days I remember to put a load of laundry in AND set the timer for it to be done right when I get home from work.

Some days, I get through my five classes without feeling like a horrible teacher, or at least feeling like I can improve in the ways I clearly need to.

Some days the dentist has an opening to fix my recently fallen out filling at the only moment I have available that week.

Some days my son finally goes to sleep even though he’s been fighting his nap for an hour, and I have time to get some much needed grading done.

Some days I actually put that load from the morning into the dryer right after I put my son down for a nap, rendering that morning’s effort Useful and Productive.

Some days I have the inner fortitude to hold my ground when my daughter tells me herself that she didn’t eat her lunch so she can’t have (Kid Z) bar, and after a good ten minutes of writhing and wailing, she perks up and is ready to go home.

Some days I manage to fold that load after I pick up my daughter from school, and neither kid hurts him or herself or breaks something while I’m doing it.

Some days I even get an entire second load of towels in before I need to wash the diaper covers later that night.

Some days my daughter likes the new smoothie my friend recommend, even though it has SPINACH in it.

Some days both my kids eat a reasonable dinner, without me having to coax every bite into their mouths.

Some days my son walks up and gives me a giant hug, just because.

Some day I’m able to do 30 minutes of contract work in the bathroom while my kid plays in her bubble bath.

Some days my daughter keeps telling me that she’s making good choices (ie not screaming her head off) while we wash her hair, and she actually is.

Some days I remember to put the diaper covers in before I start putting my daughter to bed, which means they’ll be ready to hang before I want to go to bed.

Some days my daughter tells me she loves me eight times before she (finally) falls asleep.

Some days I open my reader to find four new blog posts, all announcing incredible news from women I am thrilled for.

Some days my husband greets me with an appreciative nod, and later he even hugs me.

Some days I realize I left my phone on the washing machine before I spend a hour looking for it upstairs.

Some days a long-time friend replies that they’d love to start a new tradition where we share a cabin somewhere in the summer. Would late July work?

Some days a new  friend texts to remind me that the photography show her photo is in opens tomorrow and she hopes I can have drinks after to celebrate. I tell her I can’t wait.

Some days I don’t feel too beaten down at the end of an 18 hour day, and I’m not even dreading the next one (even though I’m pretty sure my son will wake me up a bunch of times that night).

Some days I feel like I just might be able to do this, this thing that is my life.

Some days.

What do your some days look like?

Marriage

Expectations

Posted on by noemikjames / 12 Comments

I start bedtime with my daughter at 7:30, right after I finish putting my son to bed. I have tried all kinds of techniques to move the routine along, but no matter what I do, I’m never out of her room before 9pm. And I’m rarely done interacting with her (responding to calls for me, helping her go to the bathroom, etc) until almost 10pm. With my alarm going off at 5am, this doesn’t leave much time for me to get stuff done after bedtime, let alone get a decent night’s sleep.

This extended bedtime was driving me crazy. I spent the whole time in a state of mild to extreme frustration. My highly sensitive daughter easily picked up on my feelings, which fueled her own distress, causing her to act up more and create further disruptions to our routine. By the end we were both distraught. Bedtime was something I dreaded.

At some point I recognized that bedtime was going to take 90 minutes, no matter what I did. Once I fully embraced that expectation, I  was able to shift my perspective to see bedtime as an opportunity for my daughter and I to enjoy each other and soak up some much needed quality time. I began getting laying my clothes out for the next morning right when I got home from work, and I tweaked the cloth diaper laundry schedule around so there wouldn’t be two nights a week that required late night diaper assembly for my inlaws. I stopped bringing work home to grade on the days I knew I wouldn’t have time to do it during my son’s nap. I told my husband that I was done trying to rush bedtime and instead was going to savor those moments with my daughter, who was starved for my undivided attention.

Bedtime can still feel like monotonous drudgery (how awful is it to floss a four year old’s teeth?!), but I have a much better attitude and we both end the night on a much more positive note.

At some point yesterday I realized that one of my husband and my big problems is in our expectations. The ongoing fight about who does more or who has the harder day is really about what we expect from the other person at some of those harder times of the day. If we could just clearly define our expectations in the evenings, we could shift our perspectives, and change the ways we view each other’s involvement.

Concurring with my husband that he has the harder time of it because dealing with the kids is more challenging for him–and he’s not a morning person to begin with–doesn’t mean much when I just say it. My expectations have to match that belief.

I used to do some very straightforward math (my husband has the kids (mostly just my daughter) for about two hours in the mornings and I have them both for about two hours before he usually comes home, which meant we BOTH should be on duty for the final two hours of bedtime. So when I did all or most of the bedtime routine whenever I was home, I would resent him not only for failing to help, but for failing to recognize that I was going above and beyond what is required of me. Our expectations during those final hours of the night were the source of much of our discord.

All that is going to change. My husband and I have decide to change our expectations so that we can both feel supported. We are no longer forcing family dinner on the weeknights, so my husband doesn’t feel rushed to leave work (he usually ends up arriving later than he’d like because my daughter lags in the mornings), and we will instead embrace family meals during the weekend. I highly doubt this arrangement will scar our still very young children; there are plenty of years for us to eat together when they are older.

I am no longer going to expect help during bedtime, but instead will respect that my husband needs this time to unwind and recharge. I wasn’t getting much help before, but now I won’t feel resentful about that, and I will appreciate that it’s time my husband needs. Once a week I will go out and see friends and my husband will deal with bedtimes. If I happen to be gone more than once in a week, I will make sure my husband gets some extra time to recharge during the weekends.

We will try to make sure we are both getting what we need on Saturdays and Sundays. I will wake up early with our son because my husband has the kids every weekday morning, and because it messes with my internal clock if I wake up way later than my normal 5am time. My husband will happily take the kids if I want to visit with friends or run errands at some point before Monday.

We decided to give these new expectations a month trial run, after which we’ll revisit to tackle any feelings of inequality either of us might perceive. I don’t expect these altered expectations to completely change the way we interact, but I do believe they will remove much of the resentment we’ve both been feeling. Hopefully, in the absence of those negative feelings, we can find some ways to reconnect, despite the constant exhaustion.

Have you ever changed your expectations, to positive results? How do expectations help, or hurt, your marriage?

Identity/Marriage

Change

Posted on by noemikjames / 11 Comments

At my therapy session not long ago, I was lamenting some frustrations about my husband and the resentment I felt that I was doing so much work to try to improve our marriage, while he didn’t do a thing.

“Yes, I remember thinking, when we were working together, that [your husband] wasn’t going to change.” Remarked my therapist, who worked with both of us through two separate difficult periods. “I remember thinking that it made as much sense to work with just you, because you were the one who was open to doing things differently.”

It was incredibly validating to have someone outside of our marriage–an unbiased third party–recognize that.

It was also incredibly depressing.

If my husband really can’t change, then what is the point of putting all this effort into our marriage? If the stress of having kids affects our relationship this negatively, will there be anything left after this difficult time is over?

And I’m not just putting it all on him. I don’t actually know if I am doing any changing. For all the books I read, for all the blog posts I write, for all the introspection I manage, am I really growing in positive ways? We play out the same shit in our marriage over and over again. Clearly my feelings about certain issues are the same. For all the different ways I try to approach those issues, in the end the resentment builds up until we find ourselves right in the middle of the same fight we’ve had a million times.

I was thinking about whether or not people change, on a broader level, as I contemplated the state of my marriage. It seems clear that people change, because if they didn’t then relationships wouldn’t ebb and flow the way they do. My friend and I suffered the horrible dissolution of our friendship because we had changed, right? At least that is what I keep telling myself.

But maybe we didn’t change. Maybe it was just our circumstances that changed. Maybe, as people, we are always the same, we just manifest differently in reaction to distinct life situations.

Maybe relationships shift because external facts change, and each person reacts to those external shifts differently.

I don’t know. As someone who works hard to make positive changes in her life, I find the reality that I can never change who I am pretty depressing. Even if I can alter the ways I react in certain situation, the underlying affect of those situations on me will remain constant. Or maybe they won’t. Maybe age and experience and perspective really do mold our outlook on life, and make us different people in doing that.

I clearly am not sure where I am going with this. Right now it’s only really relevant to me as it relates to my marriage: can my husband and I change our behaviors enough to salvage our relationship? We have a lot of years left before our kids are older and this particular set of challenges morphs into something else (which is evidently harder in most ways, so I probably shouldn’t expect it to bring us much respite). With the levels of exhaustion we’re dealing with, will we have the energy to act in ways that aren’t true to who we are, in order to support one another and maintain intimacy? We will be able to show each other empathy when empathy is clearly something we both struggle with (at least when it comes to showing empathy toward each other).

I have a great book about making marriage work, but honestly I don’t have the inclination to crack it open. I’m so tired of trying to change my every response to support the people around me. It’s exhausting, and I’m already exhausted enough as it is.

I’m just not sure what the point is. And I’m sick of being the only one who seems to care.

Do you think people change? Why or why not?

Life/Marriage

Trudging Onward

Posted on by noemikjames / 11 Comments

Thank god it’s Friday. Not that the weekends provide much respite, but at least I don’t have to wake up at 5am for two days. Of course we lose an hour on Sunday morning…

Yep, it’s finally light when I show up at work now, but after we spring forward it will be dark again at 6am. That is probably for the best. I’ve endured a few moments of complete panic when I thought I had looked at my watch wrong and was going to be late for work, all because it wasn’t pitch dark outside when I opened the garage door.

Things are looking up a bit at home, with my daughter. That really bad month was clearly her working through a big cognitive jump and now that she’s on the other side of it, things have calmed down. Her tantrums have been less intense, mostly in their duration, and she has even managed to pull it together to earn something she wants. We have settled on what I believe are developmentally appropriate dinnertime expectations–take one “no thank you” bite, share her good news and bad news, and listen to our good news and bad news, then she can be excused–and that has defused some of the stress in the evenings. She’s still having nightmares, but much less frequently. She’s also handling it better when I’m away, maybe because I’ve been careful to only go out once during the work week evenings.

At school she is eating her lunch again, and some days she even naps.

We saw our therapist at Kai.ser yesterday and even though my daughter was crazy hyper and bouncing all over the place, he felt confident that she wasn’t displaying any of the signs of ADD or anxiety, which is what I was most worried about (the anxiety, not the ADD). He didn’t really have any great tips for what to do at home, but I appreciated having a professional tell me that all her challenges fall within the realm of “normal.” I’ll be calling him to follow up next week but I don’t think we’ll be doing too much more at Kaiser. If things get really difficult again I have the number of a place that does kid/parent play therapy that is supposed to be really great. It’s expensive as hell, but at least we have somewhere to go if we need it.

Things at work are crazy. I’m totally underwater trying to get a million papers, tests and projects graded before the end of the trimester next Friday. It’s hard because I have to take time away from my family (or sleep) to get this shit done, and being away from my family is hard on everyone. I probably should be grading papers right now, instead of writing this.

I’ve been feeling really… unsatisfied in my marriage lately. My husband and I are just such different people, with such different needs. We were able to navigate those challenges well enough before our lives became so frenetic with kids and work. Now, when our daughter is finally done coming out of her room at 10pm, we have no time to even sit together before we go to bed. Even when we do find a moment to be together, my husband wants to sit with his headphones on, doing stuff on his computer, while I want to talk. If he does humor me by putting his computer away, he still doesn’t participate much in a conversation. I usually end up going to bed feeling lonely and angry.

We also have this horrible, underlying current of resentment flowing between most of our interactions because neither of us feels the other appreciates what we do. We’ve had an ongoing fight about who has a harder day, and I finally decided to be the bigger person and just concede that it probably is harder for him, even though he does less with the kids, because being with them is more taxing for him and leaves him feeling more exhausting. He accepted my concession, but said nothing about all the insane amount of shit that I do for everyone. It pissed me off and I’m not saying anything about it because I know I will sound like a total bitch if I do, and then he can just feel like he’s the bigger person. Maybe that is true.

I honestly can’t figure out why I get so upset at the idea of him not validating, or even acknowledging, what I do for our family. I know it has more to do with me than with him, but I haven’t managed to tease the many tangled narratives–social, cultural, personal–apart well enough to understand my own feelings. The truth is, he may validate me quite frequently, but he’s clearly not doing it in the ways I need. If I can’t figure out what I need him to do, how can I expect him to do it?

Of course, there are things I have figured out that I need him to do, like hug me every once in a while and engage in a meaningful conversation with me, and he doesn’t do those things either, even though I’ve told him over and over again how important they are.

I have been thinking we should go to therapy again, because I’m so SICK of having the same interaction over and over again when nothing changes, and now that it’s so hard for us to have a meaningful conversation, I feel like we almost need to schedule it with a third party to make sure that it happens. He would hate that idea, and so I don’t even want to bring it up. But then knowing that he doesn’t want to do it makes me think he doesn’t care, or that he doesn’t care enough to do the work. I know it’s way more nuanced and complicated than that, but when things feel this hopeless it’s hard not to see it in black and white.

This weekend I have a baby shower for a good friend and I’m going to be spending the whole thing not talking about how parenting has mangled my marriage and left me feeling a haggard mess at the end of each day.

Yep! Congrats on the new baby!

How are you feeling these days? Do you feel your marriage is negatively affected by parenting? How do you remedy, or avoid, that?