Random Thoughts...

Cognitive Dissonance-- What is it about me that causes me to spend absurd amounts of extra money on organic milk, and then take my kids to McDonalds for lunch?

I'm ready to jump already, Starbucks! -- Just got around to downloading all my "free" (can anything be considered free when I've spent $4 on a cup of joe?) iTunes from Starbucks. So far, the assortment I've received has been dark, dark, dark and depressing. Haven't been paying all that much attention to the lyrics, but how can a song called "Happy being me" sound so blue?

PROJECT RUNWAY!!! -- Yahoo! My favorite guilty pleasures returns, finally! Can't wait for the snarkiness, the divas, the over-the-top product placement, the fabulous Tim Gunn (ever so much better in this role than in his makeover show), and the barely-literate but oh so lovable Heidi Klum.

Strategery -- Attended a "strategies for helping your child read" session with Abby at her school last night. (Jake came too, and was most entertained by a teacher dressed up as a kangaroo. I cannot for the life of me figure out the whole kangaroo thing, but that's a whole other topic.) At one station, teachers told us about the importance of using NON-verbal communication to convey support and encouragement. We were then given a book to read with our child. Abby struggled with a tough word, but ultimately figured it out on her own. I gave her a hug AND said, "great job!" to which she replied, "Um, mommy, do you want to try using some of the strategies now?" Ahem.

Writer's Block

So, the Mommy has been on hiatus for a while now. I find myself with a serious case of blogger's block. All day long, I write pithy, amusing anecdotes in my head. But when I go to put finger to keyboard..... a big, fat, nothin'. I'm hoping that will all the tv writers on strike, there's lots more inspiration floating around in the atmosphere, and perhaps that will loosen things up.

Part of the problem is that I continue to struggle with the age old questions of "Who am I? Why am I here?" (thank you, Admiral Stockdale) I seem to have lost all sight of the answers, if I ever even knew them. It's hard to write when you can't quite figure out what you're writing about, or why.

One thing I'm sure of is that, while my life is by all measures a good one, I'm not feeling that way these days. A very short temper, general weepiness, and poor sleep tell me that The Big D (depression) is coming to visit again, and perhaps has snuck in the back door already. I knew I should have double-checked the locks.

And so I am getting ready to begin a new adventure: therapy. It seems everybody is doing it (heck, there was even an article in Men's Health about it), and I'm hopeful that it might help. I'll keep you posted.

Farewell

Jake and I bid a sad adios today to Patricia, the phenomenally sweet woman who has looked after him at the gym. She and her toddler daughter are returning to her home in Bolivia, to be reunited with her 12 year old son, whom she has not seen in 6 years. I'm thrilled for her, but of course also wish she could stay. Jake is going to be doubly devastated when we go back to the gym on Monday -- no Miss Patricia, and, most likely, no more cake. (Twice this week, he has benefitted from sweet farewells, leading to his announcing throughout the day, "I eat cake at my gym!")

Although she doesn't read this blog, I'm sending out a sincere thank you into the ether, and hoping she knows just how much she's meant to Jake and me. Adios, amiga!

Staccato

I've always liked jazz, but never quite understood how it works. I love the funky off-beats, the sense that you can never know for sure where the music is going, because at any moment, it could make a u-turn. Need a quick pick-me-up? Give me Dexter Gordon's "Go" or Miles Davis' "Chocolate Chip" any day.

I've found myself thinking about this as I've been trying to get into the rhythm of this new school year. I hope that at some point, the routine will become, well, routine, and I will stop having mini-panic attacks throughout the day, fearful that I've forgotten to get somebody somewhere.

I suspect, 'though, that I simply need to let go and accept the staccato nature of my life. It's time to find the beauty and the inspiration in the fits and starts, the ups and downs, the back and forths of each day. No Venetian waltzes for me, and really, isn't that just as well?

Let's Do the Time Warp Again!

It's been a back to the future kind of week. OJ Simpson is back in the news. Howard Jones (!) is playing at the Birchmere soon. And I ate lunch in an elementary school cafeteria for the first time in nearly 30 years. (Boy was that painful to type.)

I joined Abby for lunch on Tuesday and was amazed by how much -- and how little -- school lunch has changed. The lunch ladies -- and gentlemen, to be fair -- seem about the same. The food is quite similar, but there are soooooo many choices! When I was in elementary school, each day every single tray looked the same. You picked yours up, full of food, at the end of the line. Today, the kids have options, man. Three entrees, multiple sides, salads, desserts -- it's like eating at Sizzler or something.

There is no more paying with cash, or even the quaint little punchcards that I had in high school. Nope, now there's a debit account, complete with a PIN number for the little darlings to learn. (Note to those who enjoy irony -- parents have been besieged with pleas from the school to have Johnny and Jane memorize their PIN number and, above all, NOT to share it with anyone. However, at lunch time, all the kids in Abby's class marched into the cafeteria wearing tags with their PIN numbers in about 75 point font...)

The real fun was getting to hang out with Abby and some of her classmates. There was the class clown who rarely stopped talking, a couple of very shy girls, and a few boys who would speak only if spoken to. They were fun and silly and seemed genuinely glad to have me at their table. Abby held my hand, talked to me, and didn't want me to leave. I wonder how long that will last!

Later in the week, we attended Back to School Night. The Principal now addresses the parents via live TV-broadcast and overhead projectors have been replaced by Power Point presentations. But the room is basically the same as I remember from my childhood -- with the reading/listening center, play areas, a big calendar and gathering space, etc. Some things will never change. And that, as far as I'm concerned, is a very good thing.

Settling in.

It's been a topsy-turvy week. Abby started kindergarten on Tuesday and my husband is out of town until Sunday. Lots of changes to our "normal" routine, and a huge array of emotions to cope with. Tuesday afternoon brought a huge panic attack when Abby failed to get off the bus with all the other kids at our bus stop. I started calling her name somewhat hysterically, and up she popped out of a seat. She was sitting on the opposite side of the bus from the morning, and just didn't recognize the stop. But I won't soon forget the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I thought she was lost. Egads.

Yesterday was better. Jake and I went raspberry picking with friends in the morning, and then I used his nap time to get some planting and other yard work done. I felt more at peace than I had the previous day, and Abby hopped right off the bus at the end of the day.

On Day 3, I find myself settling in. We're all adjusting to the new rhythms, getting used to the combination of new freedoms and new responsibilities. I'm starting to truly enjoy the quiet time in the afternoon when Jake naps and Abby is still at school. Abby is deliriously happy and announces to anyone who will listen, "I love kindergarten!" I'm coming to terms with the fact that she is growing up, but find myself holding Jake even tighter, willing him to remain my "baby" for as long as possible.

I feel as though my husband has missed a huge transition in our family's life, and I worry a bit about how we'll plug him in when he returns. Our days have changed radically -- mornings are much more crunched, as are evenings because bedtime has had to move earlier. He'll be coping with terrible jet lag, too. More settling in to come...

Tick, Tick, Tick

Most of my days pass at breakneck speed. With two active kids, I don't slow down very often. I always have a list of 900 things to do, most of which will probably be passed from list to list to list until sometime in the 2020s.

Today, time seems to have stopped. My daughter is off at her first day of kindergarten, and I simply cannot focus enough to tackle anything on the to do list. Jake is napping, and these are the afternoon hours I've been longing for -- quiet time when I can get things done without interruption.

It feels a bit like when we were trying to get a child to sleep through the night -- pointedly ignoring the anguished cries, when each minute felt like an hour. "I can't take anymore; it's just not right to let her keep crying. It's been at least 45 minutes." A quick check of the clock would reveal that it had actually been 4 to 5 minutes.

I had no idea just how long her day at school would seem. I didn't appreciate how much earlier she would be leaving in the morning than she did for preschool. Jake and I were back from the bus stop at 8:15, both kind of looking at each other as if to say, "what now?"

We have filled the time -- a trip to Home Depot for some fall plants, a grocery store run for milk and other essentials, a lot of time playing outside. And now he naps peacefully, while I pace around the house waiting for my daughter to be returned to me. Tick, tick, tick.

Milestones

Today is the first day of school, and for the first time in more years than I care to count, it really has special meaning for me. My daughter, Abby, began kindergarten today, excitedly stepping onto the school bus and heading off on her own into the next chapter of her life. Emotionally, I am all over the map. One minute, I'm excited for her and proud of the wonderful young girl she has become. The next moment, my eyes are brimming with tears, as I am forced to accept that she is no longer my baby. I am also anxious about some of the new things to which she will be exposed.

I've always been a fall girl, finding the promise of the new School Year far more inspiring than the forced promise of New Year's Eve. Fall, with its crisp weather and new notebooks, just seems the right time to turn over a new leaf (as my dear husband would say) and start anew. Today I'm trying to stay focused on that, looking ahead with optimism to all that is to come -- and thinking about the happy prospect of a bit more free time for myself.

I am confident that Abby is going to love school. And that her brother, Jake, and I will adjust to having her around less (although he spent the morning saying, "No Abby school!"). And that the empty feeling in the pit of my stomach will go away soon. I hope.

Slacker v. Superstar

While channel surfing last night, we stumbled across a show called "Kids By the Dozen." Featured last night was a ridiculously wholesome family from Minnesota with SIXTEEN kids, ranging from about 27 to about 4. The kids were polite, well-behaved, helpful. There was no yelling (by the parents, that is). Quotes included one from an 18ish boy, "The thing I miss most about being away from home is playing with my younger brothers and sisters." Oh, and of course, they homeschool them, too.

Wow. We were feeling pretty down on our parenting skills, since managing TWO does not come easily on many days. Why are we such slackers, complaining about how busy we are, yelling at the kids, etc.? Man, we stink!

The show ended and, egos in the toilet, we resumed surfing. And there, just in the nick of time, was SuperNanny featuring a totally out-of-control family with wild, disrespectful, obnoxious children -- who didn't get that way by themselves, thankyouverymuch. Suddenly, we felt like Parenting Hall of Famers, with polite, well-behaved, helpful children and (comparatively) no yelling.

Our confidence restored, we were able to go to bed secure in the knowledge that, on balance, we're doing a pretty damn fine job. Thanks, SuperNanny. Oh, and kudos to you huge, wholesome family. I sure couldn't do what you do.

The Way Life Should Be

We are recently back from a 2 week vacation in my home state of Maine. It was simply glorious, the kind of time when family memories are made and one's spirit is renewed. We spent part of the visit staying with my mom, but the bulk of the time was spent at my family's tiny cottage on a lake near Acadia National Park.

The lake was unusually quiet this year -- fewer boaters, mercifully few jet-skis, and only a couple of float planes. We did our best to make up for it, with two loud, crazy kids living each day for all it was worth. Swimming, tooling around the lake in our transom canoe (with zippy 6 horsepower motor!), throwing rocks into the lake (with every splash, I heard my grandfather's voice, "Stop throwing those cussid rocks in the lake!).

Vacation was also a time to do some personal stretching. I have an aversion to failure and to making a fool of myself that has plagued me all my life. The result is that I am reluctant to try new things, particularly ones that I'm not likely to master instantaneously. I've visited this lake every summer of my life, but had never attempted to waterski. I've been the spotter, the on-shore cheerleader, the ski strapper-on-er, but never the one on skis. Too chicken, too afraid of failing and looking foolish.

Not this year. On New Years Eve, I resolved I would get up on skis in 2007. And I did! It took 3 days and more than a dozen attempts, but I earned the thrill of gliding over the glassy surface of the lake, hair flying, spray splashing. It was exhilarating, and I'm kicking myself for missing out on it for the past 3 decades. I also found that though my failures were spectacular, they were also really fun. Each attempt brought cheers and encouragement from my family. There was no mockery, no shame, no derision. It was a good reminder that life is not a spectator sport.

It's not the heat...

A brief note that I am simply NOT built to live in this climate. I went for a run this morning -- checked the temperature before I left, a nice cool 73. Yahoo. Then opened the door to discover 94% humidity. It was like running through jello. Only warm, and not so tasty. Ugh.

Hearing Voices

My daily life is a cacaphony of noise. There is a constant stream of dialogue from my kids, a never-ending soundtrack of noisy toys and noisy play. So is it any wonder that I'm having a bit of trouble singling out the sound of my own voice in the midst of all this?

Not my outer voice -- I hear plenty of that. But the inner one, the one that guides you. The one that tells you who the heck you are and how to make something meaningful out of your life. I've been trying hard lately to listen for it, but it's just not piping up the way I'd like. I keep hoping for that Aha! moment when clarity is achieved and the way is clear. Life doesn't much seem to be like that, though.

I read recently about "Silent Retreats" where you go somewhere, usually a monastery or similar, and experience total silence. The article recommended two weeks (!!) for maximum benefit. I almost wept at the thought of multiple hours, let alone days or weeks, with no talking. What an amazing respite that would be.

Then again, it's a little scary to ponder what one might actually come up with when left alone with only one's own thoughts for an extended period of time. I'm sure it's not all sunshine and roses, but I'd hope that you would walk out the other side with a better sense of self.

We're headed on vacation soon, and part of the time will be spent at a tiny little camp on a lake in Maine. I've been going there my entire life, and find an inordinate amount of peace in early mornings sitting on the dock, looking out at the glassy water. This year, I plan to use those silent times to do some internal listening. Maybe I'll find that little voice.

Little Sponges

I am reminded daily of what little sponges children are.

My son walked up to my clock radio a few weeks ago and said, "Cheeseburger, please. Thank you!"

Oh my. It had been a bit of a rough patch, and more meals than I care to admit were acquired via drive-thru windows. Who knew he was paying attention?

He got a good reaction, and continues to perform the trick from time to time. In fact, he's expanded his order. Apparently he has recognized my addiction to the flavored iced coffee at McDonalds, and yesterday expanded his order to, " Cheeseburger please. And Mommy coffees." Good to know that if I pass out while at the drive thru, he can carry on the ordering without me!

The Wall

There comes that moment in every day when it happens. I hit the wall and just cannot listen to one more whine, one more screech, one more anything. Fingernails on the chalkboard time.

I hit it late this afternoon at the playground about 5 blocks from our house. We had gone in the wagon because we were dropping dinner off at the house of a friend who recently had a baby on the way. The trip to the park worked like a charm, 'though pulling got decidedly more difficult when my daughter decided she needed to ride, too. It was definitely getting to be dinner time, I had no snacks, my son fell off the monkey bars (no serious injuries, thank God). Time to go. But son will not get in the wagon. In fact, he wants to PULL the wagon. By HIMSELF, thank you.

Fortunately, Daddy was able to come to the rescue in the family car. Dinner, 'though, was it's usual madness. I was now beyond the wall, and told my daughter that I'd had enough. She replied, seriously as can be, "But mommy, my rope hasn't reached its end yet." We cracked up, my sanity was somehow rescued, and the day ended on a happy note. I guess laughter really is the best medicine.

I've got a little change in my pocket...

I made the trek to Capitol Hill to close out my credit union account. It was wonderful and surreal in so many ways. I got stuck in major traffic on the way in, a reminder of the hellish commute I no longer face. I met a friend for coffee and ran into a couple of former colleagues -- who didn't seem surprised at all to hear me say that, no, I didn't miss Hill life. I saw the relatively newly installed "bureaus" by each bank of elevators that contain "escape hoods" -- a not-so-subtle reminder of 9/11 and all that has followed. Very "welcome to your democracy." And on the way home, I had to bob and weave my way around town to evade presidential motorcade road closures. Have I mentioned that I don't miss the Hill?

I accomplished my mission, and walked out with a good chunk of cash in my pocket. What was most fun was knowing that it was "my" money. Since quitting work, I have learned to think of my husband's income as "our" money, and honestly, that's how we both treat it. But there is something troubling about not having an income of one's own. I will never forget the day I received my first Social Security statement with $0 listed as my earnings for the year. It's not like I don't work hard every day, I just don't have an income.

But now I have this little bit of cash. And I want to spend it on anything and everything! We recently started giving our daughter an allowance, and each week it's divied up into $2 to spend; $2 to save and $1 for church. I know that's basically what I should do with this, but the Land's End catalog just arrived and I could use some new songs for my iPod and there's always the Dollar Spot at Target calling my name... Jing-a-ling-a-ling!

Camp, Sweet Camp

Today was the first day of the kids' 3- week summer camp. My daughter goes 4 mornings a week, my son will go 2, starting tomorrow. I'm virtually giddy at the prospect of a few hours sans kids. I love them dearly and truly feel blessed to be able to stay at home with them but, damn, they can wear you out.

Even better, this camp ROCKS. My neighbor discovered it and we both signed up, even though the building is a bit shabby and we had no idea what it might be like. But they're doing great stuff. The theme for this session is "Walk Like an Egyptian," and they'll be learning about ancient Egypt, building 3-d pyramids, making mummies, etc. So much more interesting than the typical preschool summer camp fare. Yay!

I plan to fill my free time with such exciting things as venturing into my old workplace to close a credit union account that I was recently informed will be turned over to the DC government if I don't make some sort of transaction by mid-August. Um, hello?? It's not much money, but it's MY money, thankyouverymuch. Mommy needs a new pair of shoes!

Then, I just might come home and take a 2 hour nap. OK, I say that all the time and never really do it, what with the piles of laundry, dishes, unpaid bills, etc. vying for my attention. But it IS summer vacation after all...

Vacation

Five years into this motherhood thing, I've finally come to terms with the new realities of vacation. Gone are the days of sleeping late, wandering through cute shops, reading 5 books in a week and sipping foofy cocktails from dusk 'til dawn.

The new reality is doing most of the same things I always do, but away from the comforts and usual diversions of home. Sort of the mommy equivalent of the old Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, only backwards and in high heels.

For years I was resentful. But I've come to appreciate the rhythms of vacation. I've learned to seek out (and demand if necessary) the quiet spots of time when the kids are being cared for by someone else and I can read 50 pages of a novel uninterrupted. I've learned to stop with the planning already and to more fully engage in the moment, knowing that for this week, somebody else is in charge of dinner.

And I'm reminded that the simple pleasures of a bucket and sand can do wonders for the soul.

I did it!

I'm facing the monster known as the 5 year old birthday party. My daughter, bless her, has chosen Magic School Bus as her theme. I celebrate her creativity, her thinking outside the box, her independence and inquisitiveness. I also wish she could just choose a theme you can buy in a store.

That said, I have embraced the challenge. But for reasons I cannot quite explain, I had decided that I HAD to construct a bus. I acquired a refrigerator box, some things to use as wheels, a bunch of paint. But there were two problems. The first is that we're having a water party, and there's really no use for a cardboard bus at a water party. The second is the cold cruel reality of time. There simply was not enough time, especially given my husband's business trip today.

In the past, that would not have stopped me. I would have stayed up late, wielded tools, been exhausted, cursed mightily. But not this time. I reached deep down inside myself and found the courage to say simply, no. And so some of the parts will go back to Home Depot. The refrigerator box will be left with the recycling. And the party will go on, no child will care one bit that there was no bus, and I will retain a tiny bit more of my sanity. As my 2 year old son exalts, "I did it!"

Getting my feet wet

Greetings. Welcome to my first feeble attempt at blogging. In this space I hope to share the joys and frustrations of my life as a full-time mom of two wonderful children, a nearly 5 year old girl and a just-turned 2 boy. It will be a place for me to vent, to process and hopefully to get a bit of perspective on this crazy journey. For now, I need to finish figuring out how this all works. Stay tuned for more insight!