Run Mama!

 There've been some things going on that aren't exactly worthy of a blog post, but have also been stressful and just blech. I haven't mentioned them either because 1) it's petty and not really internet appropriate 2) it's interesting only to me or 3) it's just petty. For example, I had full-blown work drama, with tears, over a portable room divider. 'Twas awesome, and obviously it cast me in a most favorable and level headed light. (Also, I lost and it stung. I still sit on one side, while the rest of my co-workers sit on the other. Sweet.) The point is, it's been a wee bit stressful. However, I think I'm starting to figure out my own anxiety-reduction recipe. One thing that's helped is our new budgeting system (boring, but helpful). Another has been, believe it or not, running.

 I haven't said much about it because 1) it wasn't all that interesting and 2) I didn't want to have to fess up when I gave up on it. But I've stayed at it longer than I ever have in the past, and I'm actually beginning to enjoy it. I think a big difference is that in the past, I was running to lose weight. That's still a goal, but this time I also picked a bunch of races that I wanted to participate in. It's been a great motivation. Because I'm shallow, I picked the races based on the cuteness factor of the t-shirt, so whenever I'm tempted to skip I remind myself that I don't get the shirt if I don't run the race. Whatever works, right?

If I miss a run, I'm less patient and a bit more snippy. Basically, I miss it. And when we have especially stressful days, I'm practically running over C and the kids to run out the door. I don't know that I've experienced the "runner's high" but I have had some very nice, mindful runs. I'm constantly body-scanning. What hurts? What feels stronger? When did that start jiggling? Hey, that doesn't jiggle anymore! And then there comes a point when I have to stop thinking and just focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Occasionally I chant annoying motivational sayings. In my head. Usually.
 
I have one more run before I've actually finished the C25K program. This has never, ever happened despite starting the program several times since Syd was born. Usually I hit the "Run 20 minutes" portion, do it, and throw in the towel. This morning I ran for 28 minutes! Straight even. It's still not easy, but I'm doing it and I'm happier for it. And if my GPS is accurate (which I'm not sure that it is) I'm doing fairly well distance-wise too. I'm still hesitating to register for a race, but at this rate I should be ready for a 10K at the end of September. And I will wear that shirt every day until it falls off of me. Smiling, of course.

Fifteen minutes

It's 8:30 in the morning and today sucks. No, it capital "S" Sucks. It's one of those days where things just snowball, until you realize that there's really no way to turn it around. I woke up to my alarm at 5:00, only to find that I couldn't turn it off because there were too many people on top of me. As I brushed my teeth Eli came shuffling in, as he has for the past week, to shadow-kid my entire morning routine. He literally lays on the floor next to the shower. The cat puked in the hallway. No one's folded laundry in God-knows-how-long so I had to do the ever dignified dig for something acceptable to wear to work. I went to start my car, and found that C had left his keys in the door overnight. It took me five minutes to force the fucking key out of the door, while Eli sat next to the door wrapped in a blanket asking, "Mama, are you frustrated?" It's "C" show-and-share and Eli wants to take Tical (the cat of enormous size). Great idea, but not gonna happen. How about a camera? Can't find the f-ing battery. So he wants to take this quarter-machine ring that he gave me ages ago, since it's a "crystal." Sure, fine, whatever. Please be careful because it's very special to me. Blah blah blah. Literally as I'm walking out the door, just barely on time, C sends the baby out, saying "Incoming!" So back inside to situate the kids. Finally ready to go, I go to tell C (who is still in bed) goodbye and his parting words are "Take a deep breath. Try to calm down." I will tell you right now, saying "Calm down" to a sometimes high-strung working mother who currently is just barely holding her shit together is like writing your own death sentence. You may as well tell me to get back in the kitchen, take off my shoes, and remember my place.

I get to work, where a get a call from C who starts out saying, "You know that ring you gave Eli for school today? How important is it?" Deep breaths, because we both know where this is headed, and I'm trying to maintain perspective and not think about how Eli gave me that ring a year and a half ago because "It's beautiful like you Mama" "Well, Eli lost the stone and I'm trying to decide how much effort to put into finding it." If you'd seen my house this morning, you'd know that this was akin to finding the lost city of Atlantis. Deep breaths (though in my head I'm thinking "Did this really warrant a phone call? What do you want me to do about it?") "Oh wait, he found it. Should I let him take it to school? What do you want me to do?" ("Just super-glue the fucking thing. I don't care. I'm barely holding on and I've eaten two donuts since I got to work and everyone is looking at me with pity in their eyes and oh dear god I've lost all semblance of professionalism and I'm a walking fucking stereotype") "Babe? What do you want me to do? You know what? Nevermind, I have to go get the kids to school." Click. And then my head exploded all over my office. And now it's 8:45. It's going to be a long fucking day.

I'd hate to ruin his fun...

Besides, who wants to spend their Monday evening folding clothes anyway?

Standards

Obviously I have pretty low standards. My house is borderline hygenic, my laundry waits for days, and sometimes weeks to get folded. My son picks all his own outfits and has been known to leave the house in a variety of Halloween costumes in various stages of disintegration. I haven't blow-dried my hair since we got back from Colorado. My five second rule is a more generous "beat the dog to it." But I still like to believe that I have some standards. Especially when it comes to my own personal success.

I've talked so much about my struggle to lose weight that I'm kind of sick of mentioning it. Long story short, I've tried a lot of things and the needle isn't budging. I got frustrated, gave up on the diet, and quit forcing myself to go to the gym. And I lost a couple pounds. Probably when that stick fell out of my butt. Moving on...

While we were back home I met a couple of C's friends wives who were drop-dead gorgeous. All of them actually. And pulled together and fit and pretty much exactly how I want others to see me. I come home and it seems like everyone is having great success staying in/getting back into shape. It's like reality television around here, all the beautiful people. I have, at times, had a body I would describe as fit. I have at times looked super-cute in a tight little dress and heels. That time is not now. And frankly, it's driving me crazy. So I decided I would force myself back to the gym, back on the diet, back to the grindstone. Problem is that I have 0 motivation. None at all. I'm working slightly longer hours, C's working a lot of nights, and even if I could force myself to exercise I have a hard time forcing my kids to drive from one daycare to another, then home to rush through dinner and start the bedtime routine. And that's where my lightbulb went off. I'm busy. Really busy. I have a long commute, a typical full-time job, two kids, a husband, a house, and pets. I do a lot of the household chores. I always do daycare pick-up. I have to make sacrifices for my time, and unfortunately I've chosen to sacrifice my health, fitness, and some of my self-esteem. That's not exactly how I want to live my life, and certainly not what I want to teach Syd. So I'm throwing it out there. How do other working moms fit in time for themselves? Especially self-care stuff like the gym? I'm thinking about trying videos at home, but I'm not sure how feasible that will be. I have to assume that if I try long enough, the weight will eventually come down and I can rock that mini.

Bored.

I am bored. Not "flip the channels, clean the kitchen" bored, but more "cut your hair, join the circus" bored. Between graduate school and internship I haven't done the same thing for this long since I waited tables in undergrad. I drive a mini-van and wear quasi-sensible shoes. My hair is non-descript. I haven't been losing any weight, despite picking running back up (which I'm sure has nothing to do with it being Girl Scout cookie season), and I'm refusing to buy new clothes with only 10-ish pounds left to go. I do the same things with the same people at the same places wearing the same clothes. Same same same. I (re)pierced my nose last week in an effort to shake things up, but it was disappointingly anti-climactic, though I'm happy to have it back. I've been trying to get a tattoo, but the artist's definition of "soon" and mine appear to be very different. I'm playing with possibly cutting my hair, but it's been such a long time since it's been this long. I just can't seem to figure out how to scratch this itch. I'm open to suggestions. Lately I've been spending a lot of time, and money, at the fabric store. Because I'm *edgy* But I feel like I need something different to bump out of this rut.

Livin' above my raisin'

"Livin' above my raisin'" is something my family says when one of us gets a little "fancy." I bragged about a great steal on a Petunia Picklebottom diaper bag on FB and got no less than eight messages from relatives. It's all in fun, and it often comes to mind when I do something outside of my usual routine (shop at Whole Foods, drink Starbucks, that kind of thing.) So I'm fixin' to really start livin' above my raisin'.

It's no secret that housekeeping is not one of my strengths. I'm definately a work in progress. But it's getting better. I have successfully maintained a routine of doing (washing/drying/putting away) laundry daily for the last week. My dishes are hardly ever a couple days old. But anything more than that I just don't feel like I have the time for. I don't want to spend my day off mopping and scrubbing the toilet of a four-year-old boy. So on Friday I have a housekeeping team coming to check out my house to give me a quote. Even cooler is that I found a team that uses all natural, eco cleaners. So I feel responsible and fancy! I've been cleaning ever since I made the appointment, which makes perfect sense. Because of course they'll never know...

My thought is that I'll just have them do the bathrooms and the kitchen, but if it's not so much that I have to choose between cleanliness and food, I might have them do the whole thing. That part makes me feel like a bit of a Real Housewives though, so we'll see. I feel bad subjecting strangers to the plethora of crap my family moves around throughout the day. On the other hand, I have no idea how people get the edges of their carpet clean without busting out the special hose. Do normal people use that everytime they vacuum?

So here's where I need help. Does anyone out there hire housekeepers? If you do, do you have them do the whole thing or just parts? AND do you stay in the house while they work or do they come during the week? That part weirds me out too, since they are essentially strangers (albeit hippy, all natural strangers).

Try again tomorrow

Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow." ~Mary Anne Radmacher

Last week I talked with a friend who confessed, with trepidation, that the night before she had lost her temper with her 1 1/2 year old daughter who would not go to sleep, and the mom had screamed. She felt awful, immediately apologized, and later called a friend to decompress. Essentially she did everything "right." As I laughed with her and commiserated with that feeling of desperation, the "Please, I'll give you anything if you'll please just go to sleep" she thanked me for making her feel normal. She said that with some other parents she felt inferior, like they would never falter to yell at their child or "screw-up." I'm lucky because, for my job and in my life, people tell me stuff. A lot of stuff. That's really normalizing, and I've heard a lot of shit. I'd like to pass on the favor. I remember that feeling, that everyone else is doing this mommy thing so much better than me. That I had been found wanting or that I was doomed to destroy this perfect little person I'd been trusted with.

I remember the first time I truly lost it with Eli. He was about a year and a half, and had been throwing the king of all fits every time we got into the car. One morning, after I was wrestled him into his car seat and sat in the driver's seat listening to him scream bloody-murder, I lost it. I screamed. I yelled "Shut up! Shut up! Just shutupshutupshutup!" In my world we DO NOT say that. Ever. It would have been better if I'd swore like a sailor. And I felt awful. I felt scared. I felt like the world's worst mother. And I promised myself it would never happen again. But it did, of course.

When I was pregnant I asked my mentor how she handled leaving her kids at daycare in the morning. Wasn't it so hard to leave them? And she said that yes, sometimes it was hard, but that sometimes it was very, very easy. I didn't understand for a little while how true that is. Most of the time I dread Monday, when there are alarm clocks and sleepy goodbyes, but then there are times when I cannot wait for the next workday. Today, if someone had offered me $100 and a box of Girl Scout cookies for Eli, I may have taken a few minutes to consider it. Today was a horrible, no good day as far as Mama/Eli days go. I don't know what happened, but imagine a whiny two-year old, possessed by a petulant, angsty 14 year old girl, crossed with an anti-social nine-year old boy, and you have my son today. There was door slamming, kicking, "You don't care about me!"," You never let me do anything!", "You're so mean! I don't love you!", "I'm boooooooooooorrred!" I tried, I really did. We went swimming this morning. Kid wanted to be carried around on his dad's hip the whole time. We did a puzzle ("I need help! You do it!") We took a nap. Nothing. I did all the shrinky stuff, maybe he needs extra attention, maybe he doesn't feel good, maybe we need to reframe! blah blah blah. Then I did the other stuff. "Go play!" "Go to your room!" my recent favorite and a gold-star MOTY winner "KNOCK IT OFF!!" At one point he yelled "I'm going to my room forever and never coming out and never loving anyone ever again" and I, in my most kind and nurturing voice, yelled back "Good!" I took him to the drugstore with me after 15 whole minutes of pleasantness and made the mistake of buying him a new toy car. We get back out to the van and before we're even strapped in he starts with "You never let me get anything! Why didn't you let me get the big car? Why can't I have candy? whine whine whine" So I took the car back, told him he'd lost the privilege of a new toy (thanks Imaya) and sent him to bed at 6:30. That boy.Oh that boy. A few minutes ago he came out and asked if I was mad. It was really hard not to immediately yell for him to get his butt back in bed before he loses all tv for the next year. But I didn't, and I explained that I was mad because he'd been behaving so badly and made it such a hard day for everyone, that I loved him but he really, really needed to work on his attitude and his behavior.

That's the thing. Today sucked, but we keep going. We try again tomorrow. So if there're any moms out there, or really anyone out there, who has felt that pang of loneliness, sure you're the only one who's falling short, truth in writing. We all do it. It took me a long time to figure that out. We're all just barely hanging on. But we try again tomorrow.

The boy, in happier times

Yeah. Not so much.

So remember when I was all "Yay! Schedule's rock! All we needed was a little structure! Look at me! I'm on the couch having me time!" Twice. It happened twice. And since then, it's even worse. I'm sticking with the new dinner time and that's helped, and I'm trying to put Syd down closer to 6:30 before she gets over-tired, but other than that my kids got one bath last week (as in once, in seven days, MOTY) and I haven't made a true dinner in about the same amount of time. Though last night I picked up a chicken from the grocery store and nuked a couple of sweet potatoes so it totally counts.

I started this out as a rant about being a human binky and then I got side tracked. See how that works? I also started drinking coffee this week so I'm a little "woo hoo!" plus frustrated, which makes for the beginnings of a good old-fashioned manic rant. Back to the nursing thing. Syd has slowly weaned herself to the point where she's only nursing at night and then through the night. I'm not regularly pumping anymore (yay!) and she's not even taking that many bottles. But she nurses ALL. NIGHT. LONG. I love co-sleeping, and in my ideal world she'd go to sleep in her bed, and then if she woke up in the middle of the night I'd bring her in with me. But that doesn't seem to be happening and I think I have to start weaning. I'm not sure what my block is about this. I am all for nursing and save for the first few weeks of toe-curling pain it's been a great experience, but it's not something I'm militant about. I nursed Eli for eight months before he decided to stop. That felt like a great amount of time, and weaning was a total non-issue. I really wished Syd would do the same thing but I don't think she will. The girl loves to nurse, and she's persistant. She's at the point now where she'll paw at my chest like a horny teenager until she gets what she's after, and has on occasion managed to pull 'em out by herself (that places her solidly in my "if they can pull it out themselves and hold a sandwich in the other hand" deadline).

I think a big part of it is that I feel so overscheduled as it is, I can't imagine having the energy for a week + of tough nights. With Eli I was still in school, so if the night was rough we could both make up for it the next day but with Syd, we've both got to be back on schedule the next day. And emotionally I feel like I'm ALWAYS leaving her. I'm not sure I'm ready to take this away too. I know logically that she's not being neglected, that we've got a great situation and she's doing great, and that right now nursing is becoming something I resent rather than both of us enjoying. I read once that the perfect length of time to nurse is however long both of you still enjoy it, and I'm not enjoying it anymore. I just need to get over the idea that this is the "One Thing" that connects us. I'd love to hear from other moms who've weaned who might have any tips or advice, since like I said, with Eli it was super-easy. Syd's doctor recommended that I put band-aids over the girls, but I'm guessing Syd would figure that out pretty quick. She's a crafty one that girl.

Need advice

I've been pretty much sucking at the whole work/life balance/flow/equilibrium/survival thing. I've been snappy with Eli, impatient with Sydney, and slacking with my clients. I'm doing my first load of laundry of the week tonight, and really it's only because I'm out of underwear. I haven't cooked a real dinner all week. My house is a wreck, and though I feel it's impact I can't bring myself to do anything about it. I'm frustrated because Sydney still isn't sleeping in her bed or through the night. Eli has been a terror, I'm sure because he's hungry for attention, but I feel totally strapped to my rocker, nursing from the time I get home until I drag both of us to bed. At work I've been forgetful, impatient, and annoyed. In short, I feel tapped.

I think one of the things that needs to happen is that I need to develop a more structured nighttime routine. I need predictability and downtime and I think the kids do too. I used to have it down pretty good with Eli, but with the addition of Syd I've lost my groove. So here's my thought.

Right now our routine is like this:
4:30 Home from work/daycare
6:00 (who are we kidding? It's usually 6:30/6:45) Dinner
7:00 Start getting Eli ready for bed.
7:30/8:00 Eli goes to bed (usually after being yelled at.)
8:00-10:00 Nurse Syd. Try to put her down. Crying. Repeat.

What I would like looks more like this:
4:30 Home from work/daycare
5:30 Dinner
7:00 Syd gets jammies and bottle/nurse. Bed.
7:30 Eli gets jammies/stories. Bed.
8:00 Mama gets some actual time to sit/fold laundry/Facebook/TV.

Due to C's schedule this has got to work as a one-woman show, though if he's home he often takes on Eli's bedtime routine. I'm worried about the Home/Dinner window, but I'm sure I'll figure something out. Other than that, it looks good, at least to my sleep deprived eyes.

Does this seem reasonable? Anyone with two+ want to chime in?

Working Mom *Update*

So after a good night's sleep and some good cuddles with the sick baby, I was able to get some perspective on the issue. I think one of the problems was that my boss was not exactly supportive or sympathetic to my situation, and I felt that I was someone hurting my standing by taking care of the baby. But as I was lying there next to Syd, with the house dark and my family sleeping, I had an epiphany. Or really just remembered what I already knew. My family is my priority. I love my job, but if it came down to it I would choose my family without question. I've worked hard to get to a place where I should be trusted enough not to punch a time clock, and I'm lucky that my union agrees with me. Additionally, my job knew I had small kids when they hired me. In fact, Eli wet his pants during my interview, and they later told me that I was chosen because I was so "real." So if they're not going to be understanding than it's not the right place for me to build my career.

No. I didn't quit my job. And I'm not going to. I enjoy my work and I don't know that I would have as much fun at a different place. But remembering that these are my priorities, and these same things are what make me good at what I do, both as a mom and a psychologist, gave me the confidence and perspective to stop worrying so much about what everyone else thinks. It doesn't matter what the daycare thinks, what my boss thinks, what my neighbors think, about how we balance work and family. This is what works best for my family, and when I took a step back I realized that we're doing a pretty good job. The house is still a mess, and I feed my kids PB&J for dinner more often than I care to admit (but with a side of carrots!) but we are, for the most part, healthy and happy.

Thanks for letting me whine for a minute. I may eventually take that post down, but for now I like letting the crack in the armor show.

Sometimes being a working mom sucks

This is a total pity post. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Today was a bad mommy day. Syd's had a cough since last week, so after a particularly rough night I made her an appointment with the doctor yesterday. Unfortunately the only appointment was at 11:00 (of course) so I had to leave work at 10:00. Which maybe wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't been out sick all week last week. But whatever. So I take Syd to the doctor, sure I'll be dismissed with "just a cold." In fact, the doctor even commented that she was too smiley and happy to be very uncomfortable. A double ear infection and bronchitis diagnosis later we were armed with antibiotics and albuterol. The first call I made wasn't to C, but to the daycare to determine the rule for how long a kid had to be on antibiotics before she could come back to school. Nothing says "Dedicated mother" like frantically trying to figure out how to pawn my kid off, ASAP. And my poor baby girl was being such a trooper.

I'm super behind at work. I've got a shit ton of paperwork, plus groups to run, plus each of my client's still needs their individual sessions. I've got two new patients to intake, and new treatment plans to set up. I walked on the unit today and was mobbed by clients. Before Syd got sick I had planned to work extra hours this week, so that I could get caught up and start our new program with my best foot forward.

C was able to stay home with the baby today, but it broke my heart knowing that Syd was home sick and probably wanted her mama to snuggle up with her. Sometimes this work/life balance thing really blows. Driving home I was on the verge of tears because it all felt like such a failure. The house is a wreck, the kids are sick, I'm not snuggled up with my babies and I don't have it all together like I feel like other working moms do. I feel like a shitty mom for staying at work instead of going home. I feel like a shitty employee that I already took off early once this week and I'm operating so far below my self-imposed acceptable level of quality. I feel like I'm developing some kind of spot-light as being flaky, though I'm hoping that's just my own neurosis and not reality.

I know that each family has to figure out what will work for them. Most of the people that I work with have a stay-at-home spouse, so I feel like there isn't a lot of guidance. I'm interested in how other working moms handle this. What do you do when your kids are sick? And how do you handle feeling like you're torn in a two, without being able to give either the attention it deserves?

Pumping PSA

When you're in a rush to pump and eat lunch and you think "Oh shoot! Did I lock the door?" do not, repeat do NOT then think, "Ah, it's fine! It's been months and everyone knows to check for the sign. You're good! Mmmm fries." I guarantee, the office tech will open your door in front of inmates and a group of interns touring the building as you frantically yell "One minute! One minute! ONE MINUTE!!!!" And then you'll all stammer nervously and avoid eye contact for the rest of the day.