Part A: Thinking the worst first / Part B: Goals or lack thereof

Part A:

I don't know what I did, but I have apparently reinjured my knee. When I was around 36 or 37, I did a burpee. It was the first and last time I did a burpee because I blew out my left knee. It took months for the pain and then the discomfort to subside. I think this injury was my introduction to meloxicam.

Anyway, today I was in the basement cleaning up Christmas stuff and decluttering. I have recently returned to more regular exercise after my autumn of not doing anything but trying to survive work and class. That may not have been a good idea.

Even though I am much improved with my anxiety most of the time, my go-to feeling whenever I am sick is that whatever I'm feeling is never, ever, ever going to improve.

When I had a stomach bug last month, I was temporarily convinced that I would spend the rest of my life running to the bathroom constantly. (I do have a genetic predisposition for irritable bowel disorders/colitis, so this fear is not totally without merit.) But I knew I had an actual stomach bug that had gotten my system off-line. I knew chances were pretty good that I would improve. But if this bleeds through with high doses of medication, I cannot imagine what a ball of trembling I would be without it.

Today, with the knee thing, I have already jumped towards knee replacement next year, even though the problem isn't likely bone rubbing on bone but a pulled muscle. I have already had a mental consultation with an orthopedist who has told me that my allergies make it likely that my body will reject a knee replacement. (I did actually have special studs made for a pair of earrings and whatever metal that is--niobium perhaps?---bothers me.) And I will die or be in terrible pain for the remainder of my life due to my knee. (Also, my minister had hip replacement yesterday, so I could possibly have created this injury with the power of my own mind.)


Part B:

I used to have goals a long time ago.

I used to think about getting a Ph.D.

I'm not sure I have goals anymore. Not professional ones, anyway.

I recently contacted another local magazine about possibly doing some occasional freelance work, but the only reason I did that is because someone I know emailed me about how to get into freelance work. Nothing like the possibility of a little healthy competition to motivate me. The one good thing to come of chatting with this other magazine is I realize that the pay I get from my other freelance jobs is not half bad. I'm not gonna get rich, or even middle class, through freelancing.

Not that I want to.

A friend of mine asked me recently if I would want to write full-time, and I don't think I would. But at this point, I don't want to teach full-time.

Being a stay-at-home mom has spoiled me in having a lot of flexibility, and this is why I do it. I don't make much money in any of these pursuits. I just sorta totaled it all up--what I made this year assuming I work five days a month subbing---and it ain't much. Of course, I do get June and July off from subbing and the cottage school, and half of August. (And the cottage school job is only 28 weeks for the year, so I have the entire month of December off, AND it is only 1 day a week.) I do write for the magazines during the summer months when they ask me to write stuff but there isn't any rhyme or reason to what I write or when.

Each of these snippets of jobs allows me time to do the other snippets of jobs.
And my time has value.
Sometimes I spend too much of that valuable time on Facebook, Twitter, or getting suck into an Alice in Wonderland hole of interwebs.

I try to look at this stage of my life as a networking opportunity....many years of developing relationships---principals seeing me in their halls, teachers seeing me as responsible and not completely inept with kids, editors seeing me as eager to write and turning in quality work. So that when I do decide to have less flexibility in my life, I can say, "Hey....who wants me?" and hopefully I'll have people calling or putting in a good word for me or letting me know of jobs.

When N complains that everyone wants her to know in 8th grade what she wants to be when she grows up, I say, "Yeah, I KNOW. I don't know what I want to be either."

During summer, I remember how hard it was to be with my children 24/7

The novelty of free time in June has become the endless cycle of free time in July.

I enjoyed summer break throughout June, but now that we are in July, I am getting tired of my children, especially the middle one.

This is less about him and more about my reaction to him. I allow him to get under my skin in a way that I do not allow other people, and I do not understand why.  I guess part of it is that he is compulsive and obsessive (hence his darn OCD diagnosis), so he just doesn't give me a moment's peace.  And I am susceptible to compulsions and obsessions (hence my darn OCD diagnosis), which makes me less tolerant of hearing the same request over and over and over.

He keeps bugging me to go on a date with D so that I can hire his camp counselor from Girl Scout Camp to come babysit him and M. He's 9 so he doesn't understand that going on a date requires money for the date and for the sitter and requires that I figure out dinner for him and his siblings, so it's not like "date night" keeps me from thinking about food planning. It's not like D can just come home from work and I say, "Let's go out. Goodbye children" and leave.

I suspect that time will come, but it ain't here yet.

He also keeps asking me to plan playdates and sleepovers for him and every person he has ever known in his entire 9-year-old life.

The other day, G insisted we exchange phone numbers with some kid at the pool he had just met. His name is Caleb, and I have his mom's phone number, but that is the extent of our knowledge of this child.
Where he lives?  Don't know.
Last name? Don't know.
How old he is? Don't know.
Spawn of serial killers? Don't know.

G is very much like me in that his mind needs to be actively occupied to keep from getting stuck in the OCD groove. I didn't get better at doing that until I became an adult and had all the crap of adulthood to keep my mind occupied--like bill-paying and cleaning and responsibility.

Anyway, by the time July came, I was starting to remember just how hard it is to be with my children 24/7.
Even though they can occupy themselves much better than when they were little and can mostly get their own snacks, they still require me for a lot of stuff.

It made me think about how unhappy and cranky I was at times when I was a full-time SAHM and how much I relished the times when I could get the heck away from my children.

Of course, there were many things about when they were little that were much easier. They were happy to go outside and play anytime. They weren't interested in technology and devices. They had opinions but I was bigger and stronger and could just plop them in their carseats and take them where I wanted.

I guess it is good for me to remember what was difficult about then to appreciate what is easier now. There is no perfect time.
Sometimes I forget that.

Let's see how I've been inconvenienced

I think there is an urban myth about stay-at-home moms.  

The myth is that if you are a stay-at-home mom you not only welcome inconvenience, you actually LOVE IT,  because it is "your job." 

Like doctor visits.

Taking your kids to every single solitary....

well doctor visit 

AND

sick doctor visit 

AND

dental cleaning 

AND

orthodontist consults 

AND

tooth pulling visits

AND

 physical therapy visits (every week for 10 months) 

AND

occupational therapy visits (every week for going on 3 years) 

AND

counseling/psychiatrist visits

AND

 allergy testing visit and checkups

AND 

allergy injection visits (at minimum every other week)

AND

ENT appointments

AND

ear plug-making / hearing test visits to the audiologist

are NOT AT ALL FREAKING INCONVENIENT, especially when you have 3 children and have been doing it for 12 years.    

And this is if you have overall healthy kids.  I think about the moms I know who have really and truly sick kids or kids with special needs of some kind.  

Add in your own mom health- and dental-care and you feel like you are a hamster on the health care wheel of life. 

Another part of this myth is that, as a woman who chose stay-at-home motherhood, you aren't inconvenienced by the fact that you....

No longer have the same job you had 12 years ago

AND

no longer have the same friend network you had 12 years ago

AND

no longer have the same schedule you had 12 years ago (or 8 years ago or 6 years ago or even 1 year ago because as a stay-at-home mom, every second of your life is changed by the changes in your kids' lives.)

AND

no longer have the same skillset you had 12 years ago.

What is maddening to me is that all of this is just considered part of "the job" with little acknowledgment of how much of a royal inconvenient pain in the butt it is to have to do it or live it.

It's your job, baby, so you figure it out.  

How should I fill in that "employment" box?

I.
It used to be easier to complete the employment box on official forms.

Way back in the day I wrote "editor."  Then I wrote "teacher."  For 12 years I wrote "stay-at-home mom."

But now, in M's second year of full-time school, I find myself resorting to "stay-at-home mom" because it is too complicated to put what I really am.  SAHM is short and sweet, albeit incorrect.  I am a mom, but I really don't stay at home much, and I don't stay at home with anyone.

There isn't enough space on the forms for "substitute teacher and cottage school instructor and freelance writer."

D suggested I write "It's complicated," but that just sounds sketchy.


II.
I subbed twice this week at the boys' elementary school.  Inevitably, when I sub, a student asks me, "How long have you been a teacher?"

Sigh.
This is another complicated question to answer.

Do I say, "I've been a teacher for 16 years," because I got my teaching certificate in 2000 and have kept it up-to-date?
Do I say, "I taught public school for about 4 years?"
Do I say, "I have taught in a cottage school for 4 years?"
Do I say, "I have been a sub since April?"
Do I say, "Off and on for a grand total of around 8 years?"
Do I try to explain it all, which would be 1. far more info than anyone cares to know and 2. a mouthful requiring copious amounts of water to wet my whistle upon completing.


III.
How in the world did I teach full-time?  How did I have the energy and the enthusiasm and the fortitude?

This thought ran through my head yesterday after subbing in first grade.  It wore me completely out, and I didn't have to do anything during planning except sit and think about how tired first graders make a person.

From school, the boys and I went to music class, which means I was pulling in our driveway at 6:30.  D had put in 2 frozen pizzas for our nutritious dinner.  Then homework, then bathing the boys, then bedtime routine, then haranguing N to take a shower and "For crying out loud, GET YOUR HOMEWORK DONE!" after field hockey practice.

I really wanted to finish my book before nodding off, but with 2 pages left to go I just.couldn't.do.it.

Is it just a matter of being inexperienced in this grind that makes me so tired?
Is it having children and being older?

At the beginning of this school year, when I have friends who post that they are starting their "nth" year of teaching, I thought to myself, "I would be starting my 16th year if I hadn't stayed home."

It gives me a sorta sad feeling to say this, but I'm not really sad at all, so I feel confused.

I do not regret one second staying at home with my children.  If I had to do it all over again, I would make the exact same choice and for exactly as long. Even though I am far more relaxed as a parent than I was 12 years ago, I still think I am the best possible person to raise my children.  I trust no one else and didn't have a mom or a mother-in-law who could have or would have provided child care.

As much as I strive to instill independence in my children, I am also, in my own way, terribly clingy to them.  I don't know that they know I am, but I know I am.

I don't like that sorta sad feeling, like I've missed out on something, although I did miss out professionally.  I missed out on 12 years of income and networking and professional development and retirement savings.  I know in my heart I didn't miss out on what was, and is, most important to me and what I could live with.

I fully recognize that not everyone has the choice, although I suspect a lot of people do have a choice and simply have different priorities and goals and sensitivities and needs than me.  Each of us has to do what we have to do and be able to deal with it appropriately.

I guess for me, I've had to go about this very gradually.  At some point, it is very probable that I will return to teaching full-time, but my path to it is in fits and starts.  

I didn't know what to title this post

It is 4:53 am.

I would still be sleeping, but the youngest woke me up (as soon as I get the middle to sleep through the night, M starts up this sh*t).

I didn't know what to title this blog post.

As I was lying in bed trying unsuccessfully to go back to sleep, I was running through possibles.  These were some of them:
Cause I'm (un)happy
I want the sesame seed bun, the meaty middle and ALL the toppings
A nebulous nugget of dissatisfaction

It is easy for me to "catch" other people's moods, and D has been dissatisfied at his job, so maybe I've just picked up on his funk.
Or maybe intentionally trying to scale back what I am doing (since I felt so overwhelmed with activity in the fall and December) has backfired, and I am bored.
Maybe I'm worrying about money (with working on taxes and all) and feel like I need to contribute more to the household budget.  Maybe knowing our oldest is 6 years from college is making me panic.
Maybe it is hormonal.
Maybe it is that these windows of empty time between schlepping kids in the car is sucking my soul.
Maybe I want to be more than a taxi-driver and errand-runner.
Maybe it is a little bit of all of the above.

I clearly remember scoring portfolios in the summer to earn extra money when I found out I was pregnant with N alongside a woman who was also newly pregnant and the mother of a toddler.  Talking with her made me realize that the old spiel about "being a teacher with kids is great because you are off when they are off" was bunk until the kids were in full-time school.  I'd never considered having to pay for daycare in the summer to hold your kid's spot even if you opted not to send the kid in the summer because you were off from teaching.

Staying at home was what I wanted to do and what seemed to make the most financial sense.  I willingly gave up years of my professional life, and I don't regret it at all.

Still, it did set a precedent that feels nearly impossible to get out of:  mom handles everything kid-related.  This is one of the downsides of stay-at-home mothering that no one really talks about.  Not that things can't be changed, but it is hard to undo 12 years of something without struggle.   If mom's "job" is to handle the kids, then she handles the kids until they are out of the house forever.  Or at least that is how it feels in my house.

It isn't fair, really, for me to want just a little bit more.... another 1-2 mornings a week of using my skills and love of teaching.  That is having the cake, eating it, and licking every shred of icing from the plate.

I know this.

But it is what I want anyway.

Here is what being a SAHM of full-time school kids is like

Let me give you yesterday's schedule:

7:30 am--out the door with boys to go get allergy shot for me and M
8:00 am--in clinic, getting allergy shot
8:30 am--leaving clinic to take boys to school
8:45 am-dropping off boys
9:00 am--at Home Depot, buying mulch and flowers to plant at the school's Reading Garden
9:20 am--calling a former colleague for an interview for a magazine article I'm writing
10:00 am -- planting flowers
11:30 am-- finish planting flowers, laying liner and mulch
11:50 am--wiping off grit and dirt in my bathroom and changing clothes
12:30 pm--meeting friends for lunch
2:30 pm--picking up N and her friend from school
4:30 pm--getting boys off bus
5:30 pm--taking N to field hockey game
8:00 pm--coming home from field hockey game
9:30 pm--fell asleep

In those hour long breaks, I did things like plan lessons and write my articles and work on dinner and help people with homework and practice piano and read stories and take a shower.

Today's schedule:
7:00 am--take N and neighbor to school
8:25 am--get boys on bus
9:00 am--go to dr.
10:30 am--get gas and go to grocery
11:30 am--interview psychologist for magazine article
12:20 pm--drive to upholstery place
2:10 pm--get shampoo
2:30 pm--pick up N and friends from school
3:00 pm--eat lunch

Mercifully, tonight we are doing NOTHING.

I am looking forward to Friday when I will repaint the molding in the powder room and go through junk for the consignment sale.  I will be in my house for 5+ hours at a stretch and not be in REM sleep.

I am not complaining.  It is nice to be able to get a lot of things done that I want to get done.  It is delightful that I ran into Great Clips to get shampoo and it wasn't an hour-and-a-half production that involved begging and whining.

I know this pace will slow down, if for no other reason than because I collapse from exhaustion.

I'm ready (pre-emptive August thoughts after 11.5 years of stay-at-home mothering)

I willingly stayed home with my children for the first five years of each of their lives, a decision that I do not regret.  Still, after over a decade, I am ready for the next stage.

I'm ready to not frantically squeeze in exercise, volunteering, errands and me-time in a 6-hour window per week from Sep-May.

I'm ready to be able to write during the daylight hours without interruption or bribing my kid with video game time.  (The fact that I have composed and published as much coherent stuff as I've done is miraculous.)

I'm ready to make professional phone calls without the worry that the Xbox timer will run out and the person on the line will hear endless screams of "MOM!  MOM!  MOM!" in the midst of our discussion.

I'm ready for a 5-minute errand at the grocery to actually be a 5-minute errand and not a 45-minute traipsing through the aisles being badgered into "just one" nasty processed piece of junk.

I'm ready to get my butt to the gym without any more coercion than what I need to get my own physical self out the door.

I'm ready to be able to browse Target sections that I like rather than reading a book in every toy aisle.  (Seriously, they need to put benches at every end-cap.)

I'm ready to only get food for myself during the day and not have to cater to the Hobbit meal plan of post-breakfast snack, lunch, and post-lunch snack.

I'm ready to not pack 30 lbs of food and drinks for every jaunt outside the house Monday through Friday (per the Hobbit diet).

I'm ready to be able to finish books in less than 3 weeks because I can read uninterrupted while waiting after my allergy shot.

I'm ready to only take care of my waste removal processes during the day.

I'm ready to finish a number of projects that have been in limbo for 11 years.

I'm ready to have occasional lunch dates with my husband and friends.

I'm ready to take a nap after lunch without falling asleep to the sound of Uncle Grandpa and being awoken by the Hobbit's demands for food.

For many years, I fretted over the time when my children wouldn't be young, thinking I wouldn't be needed.  I am 41 years old and still call on my own parents regularly to ask questions or favors.

I am ready for my children to need me in a different way.  

The sounds of a snow week (4th of 5 days)

I'm ready to get up. 
(5:30 am.  Repeat every day)

Will you play video games with me?  
(Um, wait until I'm done with this.)

What is there to eat? 
(You forgot the word LEFT.  What is there LEFT to eat....because all you've done for the past 4 days is eat every 30 minutes cause you are bored, bored, bored.)

Can I have a snack?
(The one you ate 3 minutes ago has already digested?)

Will you play video games with me?
(Do I have to?)

Want to hear all my American Girl dolls' birthdays?
(Not really but go ahead)

Is it lunch time yet?
(Seriously, are you a Hobbit?  How much food can you eat in one day?)

Today's all burnt toast, running late and dad jokes, Has anybody seen my left shoe....
(AGAIN?  This show is on again.  I.hate.Netflix.)

Can you make hot chocolate?
(I can, but I don't want to. Again.)

Can I have a treat?
(You are gonna weigh 300 lbs by the time you go back to school.)

Want to hear all my American Girl dolls' full names?
(Are they different from yesterday?)

What's for supper?
(I have no idea.)

Will you play a video game with me?
(Sigh.  Ok.....for 2 minutes and one that doesn't make me feel pukey.)

Can we stay up late?
(Are you kidding?)

Do we have school tomorrow?
(Sniff.............no.)

Busier than ever with a graduate class

I'm a little overwhelmed at the moment, and while I should be utilizing my time to get actual work done, I'm going to blog.  Decompression is a necessity at the moment.

First, let me say that I am very thankful my husband is not one of those guys who makes snide comments all the time about wanting me to work full-time.  I think he sometimes wonders why our house is as messy as it is since I don't work full-time, but he keeps his lip zipped.  I do have two part-time paying jobs, after all, and a host of volunteer commitments for which I should be paid (if it were up to me in my own perfect world).  For the next 7 weeks I also have a graduate class.

Second, let me say that I don't understand how some folks work full-time, have children and take graduate classes on top of that.  They have my admiration.

I am only one week into the graduate course, and I'm already thinking that perhaps a person who refuses to get a smartphone is not the best candidate to take a class on mobile learning.  I just couldn't take another literature in the classroom course, and I would like to learn about some cool apps and sites that I can bring to use in the cottage school instruction/assignments.

With that being said, I am finding the course reading more dull than most of my craft knives.  With only 7(ish) days under my belt, I am not yet to the stage when I feel confident that I will be able to handle the class without too much angst.

Last week N was sick and only went to school on Friday.  It was at once monotonous and awesome.  Last week was also new basement floor installation so I was limited on what things I could get done around the house.

As a result of our confinement to the house, this week has felt and actually been crazy busy.  On Monday I dropped off over 200 items at the big kids' consignment sale.  Tuesday afternoon (and this afternoon) are the GEMS Club I've been coordinating with the elementary school's learning lab teacher.  Tuesday night was piano.  Last night was a Girl Scout meeting.  Today has been prep for tomorrow's teaching.  I've been burning the 10:45 oil working on the graduate class instead of reading for fun in bed.

I've also been working on a freelance article that involved numerous telephone interviews.

Burning the candle at all ends much?

It makes me think back to the days of the kids' infancies and toddlerhoods when my days were less busy but also so mentally boring I thought I would die.  I felt like so much depended on me being such a great, enthusiastic, be-all-for-my-kids mom that I couldn't relax, and I felt such guilt because I was often so terribly bored.

Blessedly, I am now relaxed around my kids, and I'm not worried about getting it all done in stellar fashion.  If I can get it all done at all, I think I'll feel pretty content.  

Thinking about death...a lot

I have found myself thinking a lot about death.  In my pre-medication days, this wasn't unusual.  I worried about death almost constantly, but I haven't done this in a long, long time so it bears considering.  Why am I thinking about it now?

Even though I don't care one whit about the "new year," since it is just a random arbitrarily selected day in which the earth continues rotating in its infinite spin around the sun, 2015 will mark a considerable change in my life, a death of sorts.

It will mark the end of my life as a stay-at-home mom of young children.
In August, all three of the kids will be in school full-time.

I have been noticing younger moms with toddlers and babies in tow and thinking back to my own days in their shoes.  And I miss it, even though I don't really miss it.  I don't want to go back; I don't want to do it again, but I have forgotten so much about it already.  I miss seeing my children's faces at that age.  I miss snuggling them.  I miss the feel of their soft skin.

There is nowhere to go but onward.  Time continues.  My children are growing up, and I am aging along with them.  There is much good to be had in this time.  New experiences that can't be done with babies and toddlers.  There will be time for me to reconnect with adult people in my life who have, more or less, been ignored the past eleven years.  D and I may even do some lunch dates, a rare opportunity to chat without someone interrupting our conversation.

But it is an end, a death, a loss that I am, in my own non-procrastinating way, anticipating and attempting to wrap my head and heart around.  

Life as a SAHM--then and now

Way back in the day, I thought life as a SAHM was hard if N didn't take a 2-hour nap on a given day.  I was all disgruntled if I didn't get plenty of time to scrapbook.  Her scrapbook and baby book were up to the minute.

Time passed.

Then I thought life as a SAHM was hard when M was an infant, G was 2, and N was in kindergarten because the boys were so on me all the time, either nursing or sitting on my "wap."  Life was also hard because I was always in.my.house.  With naps on-and-off during the day and the boys being pretty content to be home much of the time and watch Sesame Street, I yearned to be out doing stuff.

Time passed.

Now I think life as a SAHM is hard because I am never at home.  I couldn't have a full-time job because I am up--to-the-gills busy with my non-job of keeping up with my house and laundry and homework and volunteering at school and trying to get to the grocery and piano lessons.  Oh, and the part-time teaching and freelance writing.  I long for days when I don't have to do anything or go anywhere or check anything off.my.list.

When I can clean my bathroom and just look at it being all clean for 10 minutes.
When I can sew Girl Scout patches on N's vest or iron D's shirts or play a game of chase with M.

Today I put pictures of M's 4th birthday in his baby book;  he turns 5 in a little under 2 weeks.  I haven't yet written anything on his "My First Day of School" page, which was also last year.

It is finally starting to click that this SAHM thing is always going to be hard in one way or another.  While I don't know what I will think is hard in the coming stages and phases, I feel pretty certain that I will look back longingly on whatever I just left and realize how much I miss it.

Loneliest not-alone time

A friend posted this on her FB wall and tagged me on it.
My favorite is the one by Linda:

Being home with kids all day

is just the loneliest never-alone thing. 

Like living in a cave 

filled with malfunctioning Teddy Ruxpins.

This sums up my summer break.

Whatever stage of parenting one is in, one thinks that is the hardest stage....until one gets to the next stage (or maybe two or three down the line) and realizes how much easier that earlier stage was.  

Sometimes the kids watch our home movies which they can stream on the television.  When I see N as a 5-year-old, G as a two-year-old and M as a newborn, I remember how hard it was, but I also remember the easy parts.  Like how easy it was to entertain a 5-year-old and 2-year-old.  Bubbles, sand box and swingset.  Boom!  The baby had all the entertainment he needed by watching his older siblings.  

There weren't endless argumentative conversations about video games or Cartoon Network shows.  They were so young they didn't have such intense, formulated opinions that they were willing to discuss endlessly in the car.  As mindless as Dora the Explorer songs were, I could turn those on, and the kids were happy as we drove hither and yon.

When N was at school, G and M were on the same nap schedule, so I often had 2 hours a day of quiet, something I sorely miss now that naps are a thing of the past.  The kids went to bed earlier than they do now.  I could distract them by just changing out a toy bin or two.

This summer I have really noticed how much of that easy distractibility N has lost.  One afternoon in June, I made squirtable chalk that the kids could use outside.  N did it once and was over it.  She then got out a lawn chair and read her American Girl magazine in the front yard while her brothers had me reload their squirt bottles until the sidewalk was completely covered.  She has about as much enthusiasm for squirtable chalk as I do.  She is definitely leaving childhood behind.

What I'm finding hard about parenting at this stage is that I am just on stand-by.  The kids are too young for me to leave them alone so I am restricted to the confines of the house (which I've never liked in all my years as a stay-at-home mom).  The kids aren't needy enough to have me hovering, but they are needy enough to interrupt me often whenever I try to get involved in something I want to do.  So I feel like I mostly wander the house a lot.  I piddle.  

One of the pidddling things I've been doing is pulling toys out to consign in the fall.  I've got some big items that will be going and are further evidence of my kids moving out of that easy-to-entertain stage.  The sand/water table is going away.  The Cozy Coupe will find a new home.  These are the last of the giganto toys of early childhood.  

And while I'm not sad to see the items go because I am excited at the prospect of having my house feel less cluttered, it does give me pause.  

My time mothering very young children is almost over.  My bonus baby will turn 5 in the fall.  This will be his last year of pre-school.  I am a year closer to being able to work more, perhaps paint a bedroom in an entire day while the kids are at school instead of it taking a week of stops and starts.  A year closer to being able to go to lunch with friends, to spend more time with my mom. 

I learned my lesson last year when M started preschool.  I was excited!  I couldn't wait for my 6 hours a week of free time!  And the night before preschool I completely and unexpectedly lost my shit.   

Although I am not comfortable being outwardly sentimental, I am nursing a tender space in my heart right now, very much aware of this precious time.  

As much as I am aware of this, I know that the next few weeks of summer break I will struggle with the kids' arguments and whining and requests for snacks and other things that drive me bonkers about being with them from sun-up until sundown.  I will, as usual, be strung between the cherishing of the precious moments of now and the daily, mind-numbing, soul-crushing grind of now.

It made me feel immensely better last night reading the final chapters of Anna Karenina about Levin's soul-searching and spiritual development.  Levin had been musing on his beliefs, his place in the world, and he resolved to carry this fire of spiritual knowledge with him always.  Of course, that same daily grind with which I struggle got the better of him.

"Now, as always, interference made him angry, and he felt sorrowfully at once how mistaken had been his supposition that his spiritual condition could immediately change him in contact with reality."  

But later, as within my own head/heart and on this blog:

"He was glad of a chance to be alone to recover from the influence of ordinary actual life, ewhich had already depressed his happy mood."  

and still more...

"Real life had only for a time overcast the spiritual peace he had found, but it was still untouched within him."  

I sometimes forget that just because I am cranky and unhappy in the moment, that doesn't mean I am unhappy in the grand scheme of things, with the overall trajectory of my life.

Summer is interfering with my thinking.....and some semi-amusing kid stories

The daily routine of 6:30 a.m. wake-up followed by 15 hours of kid-speak that is like watching many really bad shows on Cartoon Network is taking its toll on my ability to think and, therefore, write.

I am reading Anna Karenina, which is slow-going but interesting, and I just began a book titled Monsters:  Mary Shelley and the Curse of Frankenstein, that I cannot put down and am even reading at red lights.  So, you see, I'm trying desperately to undue the damage of arguments over inane topics, like who gets the red lollipop since the bank teller gave two purples and a red, which create a mindworm worse than any earworm of songs by Neil Sedaka.

I have been thinking about why I have such an interest in and connection with black church worship and such weird feelings associated with worship in a contemporary Christian setting.  I have also been mulling over the Hobby Lobby decision, but my ability to write about these topics is stifled by the long days, constant interruptions and drop in IQ associated with being around my children all.day.long  These are things to consider more and write on when school resumes.

What I can write about are those weird and amusing things my children have been doing which, fortunately for them, keep me from killing them with my bare hands some days.

Worst Job Ever---
Near our home is an industrial business area.  At the corner entrance to this area is usually a guy who holds a sign for one of the businesses.  He looks to have something on the order of a mullet and wears a headset.  He also has a habit of "playing" the sign like a large bass.  Evidently, I had a habit of saying, "Worst job ever," whenever we would drive by this guy.  I didn't realize I had this habit, of course, until G said one day, "Worst job ever."  He says it now every time we pass, including yesterday on our way to Mamaw's house for dinner.

Lifeguard Job---
After supper, the kids were "swimming" in Mamaw's little pool.  N had the idea for them to play lifeguard.  She took her turn first, sitting in the chair beside the pool while G and M went under water with goggles on, pretending to need help.  She jumped in, rescued them, and gently pushed on their chests.

Next it was G's turn to be lifeguard.  N went underwater with her mask, waving her hand above the water in an attempt to gain the lifeguard's attention.  G the lifeguard zoned out, completely ignoring his "drowning" sister.  She came up and went under again, once more waving her arm to gain the lifeguard's attention.  Finally, she raised her head above the water and said, "What the heck, G????"

G, stood up, said "I gotta poop," and headed for the house.  What a shitty lifeguard he was.

Butt Kiss---
After swimming, the boys went into Mamaw's house to get changed into their dry clothes again, since we were going to hang out for a bit before lighting sparklers.

I picked up towels and swim masks, and upon walking into the house, the boys decided to "BUTT KISS!," which involves them bending over to touch their toes, stark naked and allow their butts to touch.  No matter how many times we say, "NO BUTT KISS," they do it anyway.  Of course, last night, in the midst of saying, "Don't do that!!!!" they proceeded to yell, "PENIS KISS!"

More Waste Management---
We got them dressed, watched a little tv and waited for the sun to set.  Around 8:30, having both boys on my lap, twiddling my ears and being generally tired and whiney, I decided to move the sparklers up so we could get the kids home and into bed.

When we got outside, M decided he had to pee.  Rather than going inside, he wanted to pee on a tree as G had done in our backyard the night before when we lit sparklers in our yard.  G, in his 6-year-old maturity, had the sense to use his fly for discreet urination near the willow.  Four-year-old M went to the tree in the center of Mamaw's yard and dropped trou, proceeded to scratch his butt while he peed on the ground.

One of the best things about summer and these little amusing snippets of life is when D and I are in bed, reviewing the kookiness of the day before I fall into a coma until 6:30 the following morning.

Last night we considered the usage of the boys' BUTT KISS as our code word for referring to adult tomfoolery (by inserting other body part language), but decided this would be beyond the pale.
Even for us.

Summertime....and the living is....

just not as easy for me as I'd like.

I spend most of my time running along the seesaw, back and forth between these two trains of thought:
"Just let the kids enjoy themselves and quit fretting over how much time they spend dorking around on the computer/video games"
and
"So help me g*d I am going to light all the technology in this house ON FIRE if they don't find something else to do."

I've written about how I very much need the schedule of days dictated to me by school or work or children's naps, something....anything....outside of myself, otherwise I sort of bumble around.

These two weeks of summer have felt like this:

See, that is what happens to my sense of humor with too much unscheduled time.

I took the time to make a very detailed schedule for each child with 1/2 hour increments allotted for activities of their choosing.  If they wanted to do something for an hour, like play Legos, that is fine, but limits on screen time.  That lasted about 2 days before I realized that it is impossible to plan a schedule when my kids wake up at all different times of day....from 6:00 am to 9:30 am.   And mom cannot be expected to follow a schedule when she wakes at 6:00 am, but her coffee doesn't fully kick in until sometime around 8:30.  I can do many things, but coordinating 4 different schedules for 4 different people is out of my range of skills.

So then, I tried making a more general schedule, with the times of 10-12 being screen-free and 1-4 being screen-free.  But this system posed more questions and stress.  Like, we are sometimes out of the house from 9-11, so do the kids forfeit their one hour or do I add another hour and make screen time until 1?  And how does this affect lunch?  And if it rains all day, then having endless hours of no screens might be impossible (for me, I mean, because my kids aren't terribly good at entertaining themselves without pestering the heck out of me).

Two schedules, neither of which work very well, which has me sorta just wanting to throw up my hands and say "forget it."

And maybe that is what I should do....

Maybe I should just really lower my expectations of what I think my kids should do during summer?   I'm not a very good judge of whether my own expectations are realistic and actually achievable or so strenuous and pie-in-the-sky as to result in my hospitalization if I continue trying to push the impossible.

Would it be the end of the world to just stop fretting over this junk?  Would I then be able to be around my children in a state of semi-enjoyment rather than semi-anxiousness because I "should" be having them do other more productive things with their time?

Because right now I have thoughts like this:
"Last week I took the kids to 2 different parks for playtime and a botanical garden with friends and the pool once, but I really should have N and G select an author and have them compose a letter to said writer, and make them do a math skills website, and N should really work on learning a new song on piano."  Stew, stew, stew, stomach discomfort, blergity-blerg.

Or maybe I should just think thoughts like this:
"Hmmmm, this week I WANT to go blueberry picking and to the pool and get to the gym at least once.  And unless the kids tell me something specific they want to do, I'm going to just let them do whatever, provided it doesn't involve alcohol, knives and/or pedophile midgets."

It is like fundamentally changing my entire personality to think such things.
But perhaps I should try anyway?

My new favorite book (that I wish had been published 10 years ago)

I am reading All Joy and No Fun: The Paradox of Modern Parenthood by Jennifer Senior.  It has reinforced things that I've been discovering about raising children over the past decade.  I sure wish it had been around when N was born because it would have saved me much, much anxiety.

The gist of the book is this:
1. the culture of childhood has changed dramatically since World War II.  Kids used to work/serve a clear purpose in the success and survival of the family.
2. the role of women has changed dramatically since World War II.  College educations, professional roles, and birth control have changed the way women think of themselves and motherhood.
3. the role of men has also changed due in large part to the role of women changing.

Given how short of a time-frame in which all 3 of these changes have happened, it makes complete sense that modern parents are all "WTF?"

It soothes me a bit to know that what makes me feel most guilty as a mom is something that most moms throughout time haven't had to feel guilty about.  It truly is a "new" phenomenon, this savoring of our children, of their every moment.  Feeling like we should be engaging them, entertaining them, keeping them busy, utilizing every last ounce of their brain power for betterment.

Treasuring one's life takes a whole lot of work and doesn't take into account the true monotonous drudgery that is life, even middle class life in the US.  There can be pride taken in making the food for one's family, washing the clothes, keeping one's family alive, but modern day conveniences sorta take a lot of this pride out of a parent's hands.  When I say I washed my family's clothes, I didn't really.  The machine did it, and I simply supervised that the machine was operational.

And really, when I think about it, there is no pride in survival.  When humans work very, very hard to survive I don't know that there is the time or energy to even think about pride.  Survival is it's own reward.

So what, exactly, are we supposed to do with ourselves if not engage our children?

I ask this question to myself as I think about the summer months.  I've already started a list of "things to do with the children," which includes visiting Papaw Tommy's gravesite (N's pick) and building a volcano model (G's pick).  If I plan nothing for them to do, they pester me, and I feel antsy and guilty and angry with them.  If I plan everything, I run myself ragged trying to play concierge......something that has not been the experience of mothers throughout the history of man.

Therein lies the challenge of navigating this modern parenthood bit:  moderating.

This is science

Today has been a true stay-at-home day, which is something I both need and hate.

A day of not running any errands tends to be very productive, as I get all sorts of little things of little consequence to anyone else done (like putting EOBs in the healthcare binder or scrubbing the drains).  But around mid-day, I also start to go a little bonkers, especially since M begins to tire.  At four years old, though, he is tired enough to be whiney and needy, but not tired enough to actually nap.

I am long past being the stay-at-home mom who tries with great abandon to "do things" with my child.  With N, I was forever doing projects that would stimulate her brain.....arts, crafts, playing grocery store with her fake food.  I was smug about how she didn't really need preschool because we did lots of things at home to help her learn.  And that was true, even if it was smug.

Child #3 needs preschool.  I have never taught M his letters, numbers, done arts and crafts or anything with any pre-planning or sincere concentration.  There is too much laundry and cooking and other stuff to do.  When I feed him marshmallows (which the first child didn't eat until she was 6 or something), I do ask him to count them, so I'm not completely useless.

I did have a moment, though, today when I realized that me being a mostly preoccupied stay-at-home mom on my true stay-at-home days is not such a bad thing.  I don't need to go all Pinterest-y on myself  and be the same kind of mom I was when I just had a singleton.

As I was piddling around, M grabbed his dinosaur and bug toys, parked himself at the dining room window and started playing in the sunshine.  He called me over to look at their shadows, a game he plays regularly.  I watch and give him suggestions on how if he turns the figure this way and that way, its shadow looks bigger, longer, more detailed, etc.

This is preschool science.
He is learning.
I am hanging back, watching him, moving between what I have to do and being present with him for the few minutes that my brain can stand it before I get bored with this preschool fun.

And that is good enough.

The good, the stupid, the things worth remembering

I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, and I will always be glad that I have been there for every "big" thing in all 3 of my kids' young lives.  Being a control-freak who doubts that anyone could do even 1/10th as good of job raising my kids as I have (warts & all) I am very thankful that I have been able to do it for.......gasp.....a decade.

Dang.

I know that moms who work outside the home have a different kind of hard from me, but one of the biggest things that I think many stay-at-home moms miss from working outside the home is the professional respect they get for a job well done, which comes in the form of a paycheck or a bonus or a "You did great on that project!"

I know my children love me, but they can be complete dickheads towards me, which might be tolerable if I got a paycheck or professional credits or something that would balance out the "I feel like shit about myself" scale.

THE GOOD
Which was part of the reason I am part-time teaching.  My students don't demand things of me.  They bring me Valentines and write me notes or send emails that say things like....
 I am amazed at how by taking your English class, how I have had more of a desire to start working on my novel(s) again. And by looking at books and talking about them and connections and all that wonderfulness, I've begun to notice it in my own work, and made more of an effort to create connections, even if i never expose it or give it more than a single mention. Your class has made writing more fun and exciting! thanks!

And I get emails from parents that say things like....
Thanks for all you do.  B is really enjoying this new book.  He doesn't want to put the book down, which is a huge joy for me to see.

This is also part of the reason I do the Girl Scout troop and the GEMS Club.  Ninety percent of it is for N, but that last 10% is because I get emails from teachers to tell me that a kid who attended the club said this in class:
"I have prior knowledge of this from GEMS club!" :)

And I had to wipe none of these kids' butts or get them a snack or listen to why I am such a jerk because I won't let them do whatever it is they want to do.

THE STUPID
I blame most of my recent bouts of stupidity on these damned snow days, which have completely smashed any semblance of normalcy in my weeks.  When you are out of a routine, you tend to forget or overlook things.  In my case, the thing I overlooked was pretty darn important.

M's preschool Valentine Party was last Tuesday.  I coordinated the party and had emailed the other parents to remind them of what they said they would do or bring.  When I arrived at the party, I realized I had forgotten M's Valentines at home so I ran back to get them.

Later, after the party had started, I didn't see the food and I couldn't remember who was supposed to bring it.  I asked one of the moms if she remembered or if she knew where whomever was supposed to have brought it put it.  She checked her phone, laughed and then pointed at me.

ME!  I WAS THE IDIOT WHO FORGOT THE FOOD!

I know some people might say this is a classic case of "doing too much," but I really do think it is that I had all 3 kids at home the day before the party.  When I would have normally cleaned up my desk, gone over all my "to dos" for the week and run to the store, I was instead trying to wrap my head around yet another snow day and all the noise and chaos that would instead be my Monday.

THE THINGS WORTH REMEMBERING

In the car the other day, G said, "Mommy, look at the snow sparkling!"  In all my years, I have never noticed snow sparkling in the sunshine.  It made me happy to see this, but more importantly it made me happy that my G helped me notice it.  It reminded me of all his good qualities, which have been sometimes difficult to see in the past few months.  

Even though this will post on Facebook, it is TECHNICALLY not a "bitching about the weather and ANOTHER snow day" FB post

This morning, when D told me that there is no school today due to snow, he had this weird grin on his face, so I thought he was joking and said, "You're kidding."

He replied, with the grin still on his face, "No, I'm not."
That grin made me suspicious.  He knows this has been a winter from hell, and I thought he was just fucking with me.
I said, "You are kidding?"
Crazy grin on his face---"No, I'm not kidding."

It occurred to me sometime later that the reason he had that look on his face is because he was thinking, I am going to get to witness my wife break with reality when I tell her this, and he was at once excited and fearful.

It is 10:45 am, and I have not broken with reality although I've got something akin to formication going on.  My kids are fine, their IQs diminishing by the second as they play video games and watch endless homemade American Girl videos on youtube.

Jimmy crack corn, and I don't care.

The only good thing about no school today is that I don't have to feel guilty taking G out of school early for his rescheduled OT appointment (which are usually on Fridays but this Friday is supposed to be his Valentine Party, and I didn't want him to miss that).  Not that I should feel guilty.  It isn't like he has had anything remotely resembling consistency in his school days this winter, so why should I feel I'm disturbing his tranquil, routine weeks of learning?

So what have I done with my morning?
I've already prepared dinner, run the dishwasher, categorized finances on mint.com, done 3 loads of laundry, stripped a bed and bitched to both my mother and my next-door-neighbor about this god-forsaken weather.  I'm going to break down soon and clean the master bath and iron clothes.

I have not watched tv or eaten bonbons, which someone I know suggested stay-at-home moms do, which is the reason we get so up in arms when snow days are called.  I normally try to politely ignore insane people, but I had to set this person straight.

Everyone I know is half-baked over this winter:

*The stay-at-home moms who haven't been to the gym in months and have collectively gained a zillion pounds because they go when their children are in school, and their children are never in school.

*The working parents who have used up every single second of their vacation time to stay at home with their children on these snow days.

*The grandparents who are being called in the wee hours of the morning to watch the grandkids so the parents can try to get into work and have an hour of vacation left for a summer trip.

*The neighbors who have gone to the store for their "trapped with children in the house" neighbors to get yet another gallon of milk and loaf of bread.

*The old people who would love to stretch their legs by walking to the mailbox but can't because they are scared to death they will fall on the ice and break a hip.

*The store owners who have done zero business because all their regular customers are stuck in their homes with children.

*The government and school officials who have prices on their heads because 1. they can't get the roads cleaned up fast enough and 2. no matter what call they make on school closings it is the wrong one.

Blogging must temporarily cease.... the kids are calling.....

10 minutes later

Now that I've wiped a butt, cleaned snot off the wall, and listened to my sons fight about whether they play Skylander Giants or Kinect Party, I'm going to go scrub the bathroom.  It is the only decompression technique I can find at the moment, and I forgot what I was going to blog about anyway. 

Crazy stuff a momma thinks when winter break is ALMOST over but weather dudes are forecasting ample snow the day BEFORE school resumes

It is Saturday.  My children have been out of school since December 21, which makes 15 days of togetherness.

Fifteen days of togetherness....
When it is bitterly cold and there was no snow in which to play until yesterday (and there was only a dusting).
When everyone else is off work and school and are, therefore, clogging up the malls and cinemas and fun joints.
When I've just spent a buttload of money on Christmas presents and windows so the idea of spending any more money makes me feel queasy.

I have been trying to keep my calm.  Not get annoyed.
But I have reached critical mass.
 
I am to the point where I am getting fed the fuck up with my daughter's American Girl doll that Santa brought her because that bitch is high-maintenance.  She has been going everywhere with us and showing up in our family photos and losing her clothes and jewelry when she visits the grandparents.

Last night I was so in need of some momma decompression out-the-house-time that I went to Target (which is on my shit-list for jacking up my Red card with all their less-than-stellar fraud protection).  And I have absolutely no desire to buy ANYTHING.  It was just the only place I could think of to wander aimlessly and not get arrested.

As much as I cringe at the prospect of summer break because of its length, it is a trillion times better than this stuck-in-the-house-ness.  There are parks and splashpads and pools and the frickin' hose outside that I can spray them with if I feel desperate.

And now the weather people are talking about frigid temps and snowfall for tomorrow, the day BEFORE school resumes.  The day BEFORE my first day of routine and normalcy and "3 hours of bliss 2 days a week" that I have missed.  In this neck of the woods, the public school system has been known to call snow days because it was gonna snow at 2:30 pm.  It has been known to cancel school because of frigid temperatures.

The kids had 2 snow days in December, and the only good thing about those was that it means that I WON'T have a week off with them in February, which is even worse than winter break because they don't have new toys with which to play.

I need my children to go back to school for many reasons.

I need to throw away these stale Christmas cookies and broken candy-canes, and they need the distraction of school to forget that these items are in the pantry.
I need to throw away the various boxes and wrappings and, let's be honest, garbage that my children think is valuable stuff.
I need a little bit of time in which my children aren't in the house so I can get 1-2 things done without having to stop every 28 seconds to give someone a snack.

I'm trying to stay calm.  I'm trying to let this dust over my like flakes of snow.
But in my efforts to think positive, the only thing that comes to mind is that ample snow will give me a place to temporarily hide the bodies.  

If you give a stay-at-home momma too many days of summer break (a blog in 2 poems)

POEM 1
If you give a stay-at-home momma too many days of summer break (coupled with cool, cloudy weather that precludes going to the pool), she'll look for things for the kids to do.

If she looks for things for the kids to do, she'll probably end up suggesting crafts.

If she ends up suggesting crafts, hers kids will be gung-ho at first.

If her kids are gung-ho at first, they will soon begin whining.

If they soon begin whining, the momma will probably end up doing the project all by herself.

The cabinet for American Doll/Our Generation Doll accessories I did mostly by myself

Clay accessories made by N

POEM 2
If you give a stay-at-home momma too many days of summer break (coupled with cool, cloudy weather that precludes going to the pool), she'll look for things for the kids to do.

If she looks for things for the kids to do, she'll probably end up scrounging around in her craft bin.

If she scrounges in the craft bin, she'll find some old crayons.

If she finds some old crayons, she'll probably break out her mostly unused embossing tool in an attempt to be all pinterest-y.

If she gets out her embossing tool, her 5-year-old will be entranced for hours.

If the 5-year-old is happily entranced, she will continue to cut off crayon wrappers with an exacto blade.

If she continues to cut crayon wrappers off with an exacto blade, she will probably cut her fingers.

If she cuts her fingers, she will say, "I'LL BE SO DAMN GLAD WHEN SCHOOL STARTS!"