Still a SAHM

You might say I've got a new lease on life. I knew things would be different when all of my kids went back to school in September, leaving me as a school day empty nester for the first time. My life is definitely different, that's for sure. Just maybe not quite in the ways I expected.

I thought I might be a little sad, and truthfully there are times when it gets lonely and I miss having a mini buddy to cuddle with and to run errands with me. But mostly I'm not lonely at all. After our dog passed away in September, we adopted Marla in October. She is a good companion. Sometimes Chris is home during the afternoon, and other times I meet my mom, mother-in-law, or a friend for coffee, shopping, or what have you. Then we've had the days off, half days, early release days, and kids home sick. I am rarely alone. Being the introvert that I am, though, a nice quiet house to myself is an absolute treat. I relish the peacefulness.

I never thought I'd be bored, and I wasn't wrong about that. On the contrary, there aren't enough hours in the day. I did think I'd have more time to do things like work out, practice my French (with Rosetta Stone), and organize my house. But what I'm finding is that the days slip away before I know it. I'm not just sitting around watching television and reading all day either. Actually I very rarely watch TV, and I don't even have much time for books.

What have I been doing with my time? Besides the regular stuff like grocery shopping, laundry, dishes, errands, walking the dog, and cleaning?

Maybe you've noticed I'm back to blogging more regularly, although I hope to be better about that as I get more accustomed to my new life. That's one thing. I've been making curtains for Bethany's bedroom, and I am no pro so that takes a lot of time. Since September I've had 9 days of kids home sick from school. N.I.N.E. So add taking care of sick children to the list. Then there's the occasional weekday get togethers with friends and family that I mentioned, although those are often tied in with with a necessary chore, like walking Marla or shopping for new boots for the kids. I organized the school book fair, volunteer to chaperone field trips every chance I get, and will be helping the kindergarteners roller skate in PE class in the coming weeks. Bethany is going to China on a school trip in the spring, so we have been fund raising for that. In other words, I have spent tons of time collecting returnables from neighbors and friends and taking them into the store, and making homemade goodies for bake sales. I have plenty of activities and tasks to keep me busy.

I also recently acquired a temporary, work at home job. Just a simple one that allows me to work at my convenience, for as many hours as I can. This right here has been the most eye-opening event of my new life.

The thought had crossed my mind that once all my kids were in school full-time that maybe I'd get a "real" job. You know, the kind that would require me to brush my hair, wear actual pants, go to a place of business and interact with co-workers. It's been a lot of years since I've done that.

Then reality set in. I don't know many employers that would take kindly to NINE impromptu days off due to sick children, not to mention early release days every other week, four half days, and a day off for elections. All that in less than three months. I know people do it. People put their elementary school kids in the after (and sometimes before) school program and give their middle school kids house keys to let themselves in after school. They share sick days with their spouses (Chris doesn't get sick days and really can't call in at the last minute in his line of work), hire babysitters, count on their parents quite a bit, and beyond that I don't even know what all they do. Everyday, all over the place, there are families that do these things. I am in awe of them and their phenomenal juggling abilities.

Here is what I think, for me personally, for my family. Life is hectic enough. Life is, in fact, so so SO hectic. Could we use the money? Oh my gosh, SO MUCH! Couldn't we all? But I like to see my kids in the morning before school, to pick them up after school, and to help them with their homework. I like them to know that if they're sick, they can call me and I'll pick them up and bring them home where they can at least be sick somewhat comfortably. I like to say yes when Connor's friend's mom calls me and asks if I can drive her son home from school, and to let Lucy's BFF come over after school so I can drive them to dance class together. I like to be able to check "yes" next to the box asking if I'd like to be considered as a field trip chaperone, without worrying how I'll shuffle my schedule to do it. And here's something else. I am mentally re-charged when I am ALONE. I like being alone sometimes, crave it, need it.

However, believe it or not, it's not all about me and my own selfish needs and desires. A long time ago, when I was immersed in diaper duty, round the clock nursing, and multiple strollers and car seats, I thought my kids would need me less the older they got. I'll admit that a part of me, the most overwhelmed and sleep-deprived part, sometimes looked forward to that day. The truth, I've come to realize, is they need me more, but in different ways. Now they can dress and feed themselves and use the bathroom (more or less) on their own. They can do chores, make their school lunches, wake themselves up with an alarm in the morning, and so much more. Yes, they can do a lot, and they don't need me anymore for many of the things for which they once depended upon me.

But there are other things, some I never thought of or considered until they reached up and smacked me in the face. Like that they'd need me to drive them all over town, to be at their games and their band concerts. To email their teachers when they're having troubles, to listen and wipe their tears when they've been burned by a friend, to assure them that they're smart and beautiful and good, to proofread reports, and to make sure they're packing more than just leftover Halloween candy in those lunch boxes. Sometimes they need me every single moment that they're with me, right up until they're asleep for the night, and by then I am spent, physically, mentally and sometimes emotionally. And then I keep going, often spending hours after they are fast asleep doing things like making sure they have clean underwear and cereal bowls for the morning and printing out papers that are due the next day. I know you know what I mean, fellow parents. Our kids need us, and that doesn't stop at any magical age.

So that brings me back to my new job. Like I said it's temporary and flexible, and I can work at home. It's only been a couple weeks so I'm new at this, but wow! It's hard to squeeze in a job with everything else. I have my blogging and social media things I do, but those are more sporadic and not paid by the hour. It's hard enough to make time for those little, occasional jobs.

At this moment in my life, I simply cannot fathom how I would work these kind of hours outside the home. I do not know how other people do it. This past week I've been able to juggle sick kids, half days, parent teacher conferences, and a whole lot more while still working. It hasn't exactly been easy but I've managed. I don't know how I could have been working in an office or anyplace other than home while simultaneously caring for a puking child.

I will say that having some extra money is great, especially with Christmas creeping up so quickly and the myriad expenses associated with older kids (you thought diapers were expensive! ha!). I am grateful beyond words for the opportunity to work while doing everything I can for my kids, but the eye opening part of this experience has been that I'm nowhere near ready to re-join the work force outside of my bubble of home and family. This is right where I need to be right now.

I like money and the things it can buy, but I don't like it enough to give up being available for my family at a moment's notice. I don't like it enough to say yes to latch key and babysitters and house keys. Not that there is anything intrinsically wrong with any of those things (here is where I'll mention that I myself had a house key in second grade, and spent my summers, school breaks, and many sick days being cared for by my aunts or grandparents).

Everyone I know is doing their best to survive any way they can, and it's all good. We all have to figure out what is best for us and for our families. As for us, I've been a SAHM for 13 years and we've been getting by, and we'll continue to get by. I'll continue to work at home as much as I can, falling asleep with a laptop on my knees more nights than not. But despite the new circumstances in my life, I will not be seeking any long-term employment outside of the home any time soon.

The funny thing is that I thought life would be calmer and less hectic with all four in school all day. Not quite!

The Little Tooth That Made Me Cry

Yesterday I posted on Facebook that I gave my kids a list of chores and shut myself in my bedroom to get some work done. Not five minutes later I was interrupted (for the first time, but certainly not the last) by a screaming Mathilda.

She was distraught and inconsolable. Her tooth fell out, and even though she has seen this happen to her older siblings repeatedly, she was totally not expecting it.

Neither was I.

Mathilda is five. I am about 99% positive that the other kids lost their first teeth at age five as well, but I'm also pretty positive that they at least made it into kindergarten before they reached that milestone.

This is my last summer of pretending Mathilda is still my baby before she heads off to big kid school in the fall. Somehow I thought things like this would not happen until we reached that stage. When I saw her in my doorway screaming and holding her little tooth, I thought to myself, "she is too young for this!"

But of course, she's not. I'm just not ready.

Bethany, Connor, Lucy and I rallied together to calm Mathilda down and convince her it was awesome to lose her first tooth. We reminded her about the tooth fairy, whom we assured her would most definitely respect her wishes to leave the tooth under her pillow. I hugged her and kissed her and high-fived her, and eventually she stopped crying and understood that she didn't do something wrong to make her tooth fall out.

Finally I got the kids out of my bedroom once again so I could get back to work. And then I cried.

I couldn't help myself. I had to indulge in this awful feeling of despair for just a moment or two. I know, I know. That probably sounds a little melodramatic. But I felt like I'd been sucker-punched. Time is going by too fast, and at moments like this I feel like I'm being pushed along by gale force winds.

Stooooooooooop! But it can't. It won't. Time and tide stop for no man. The only way to slow the clock a little is to live in the moment and to resist the powerful urge to cruise through life on auto-pilot.

Sometimes we need auto-pilot. Sometimes the only thing standing between us and the loony bin is auto-pilot. But we can't allow ourselves to be allured into its comfortable numbness for too long. We have to snap-to and sometimes work pretty dang hard to find pleasure and peace in the monotonies of raising kids and all that it entails.

That little bitty pearly white tooth knocked me off kilter a little yesterday. It kind of took the breath out of me and kicked my feet out from under me. My baby girl is five. She's going to kindergarten in a matter of a few excruciatingly short weeks. She's growing up and I can't stop it.

Big Kids

Summer, my most favorite time of the year, is speeding by so quickly I can scarcely accept it. The older my kids get, the busier we are. Gone are the endless weeks of doing what we please all summer long. Now we spend our days juggling. I'm not complaining...summer is still glorious. Just a slightly different shade of glorious.

Life has changed so much since my first years of being a mom, when I just had two little ones who didn't ask for play dates, happily went wherever I chose to take them, and had no responsibilities to schools or sports teams. Now we are dealing with sometimes having to make hard choices because we can't be more than one place at once. And sometimes having to do stuff with the fam even if you'd kinda rather be hanging out with your friends. Plus doing our best to keep little brains fresh and prepping for the coming school year, which is occasionally met with resistance.

I always have such ambitious plans and hopes for summer break. I always think I'm going to be able to fit in more than is humanly possible, and envision everyone being pleased with all of it. Reality check, please.

The truth is, we're about half way in already and it's been a good summer. We've been on two trips, spent lots of time with family and friends, enjoyed the sunshine and warm(ish - this is Michigan after all) weather, tried some new things, and learned to sleep in. That's not bad at all.

The flip side of the truth is we've often got disgruntled customers in the George household. We have to get up early a lot when we really (really really really) don't want to. We haven't exactly done many of the things I had envisioned us doing this summer, like visiting museums and state parks and working on household projects, and  I'm consulting my calendar multiple times a day, trying to keep everything straight.

Juggling is definitely the buzzword this summer, and I have a feeling that's not going to change for a long time.

By the end of the school year, I'm always looking forward to having time to do things during the summer break that have been put off all year. Then by the end of summer it's the same thing...I'm telling myself the projects will be finished once the kids are back in school. But this coming school year is going to be totally different for me. All four of my kids will be in school full time. For the first time in 13 years I will be (sort of) off duty for a large portion of the day. I mean, I'll still be cleaning up after them and running their errands, but they won't be around to interrupt me and throw me off course all day long. I might feel like I jumped into Alice's rabbit hole, but instead of chaos there will be peace and quiet.

Kids grow and life changes.

I am grappling with what to do with myself when the kids are back in school. Get a job outside the home? I hesitate because with four children there is a high likelihood that someone is going to be sick and/or need a field trip chaperon practically on a weekly basis. And I like to be there for them. That is my priority. Right now my plan is to kick the blogging into high gear (I will have a QUIET HOUSE for hours every day - can you even imagine??) while being open to flexible part time job opportunities.

Life changes, and that is a good thing. But it can also be a scary thing.

While I'm dealing with a different kind of summer, I'm also trying to prepare for my role in life to change drastically for the first time in 13 years. No little ones at home will mean no schlepping back and forth to preschool, no chatterbox following me around and making it practically impossible for me to talk on the phone or complete a coherent thought. It will also mean no more cuddle time in the middle of the day, no more trips to the library for afternoon story time, no more taking along a +1 to coffee with the ladies. At this point I'm not sure whether I'll be laughing or crying. I'm guessing a little bit of both.

Thoughts that Slay Me

(Hi there. Let's just ignore for the time being that I haven't posted on here since...sometime last year.)

Mathilda, my big girl, my baby, gives the best hugs. Hugs that remind me we're all a piece of the same big pie, that we're more than these physical bodies that we think define us, that the Beatles had it right: all we need is love. Yes, hugs can do that; good hugs can. Mathilda loves to sit on my lap, to cuddle, to crawl into bed between Chris and me on lazy Saturday mornings. It's delicious and warm and the coziest thing pretty much ever.

As I sit in the preschool parking lot, waiting for the three hour school day to end, I'm thinking that the remainder of Mathilda's preschool career can be measured conveniently in weeks, or even days. Her time as a four-year old...the same. She will turn five the day before she becomes a preschool graduate. I'm thinking I'll only get to watch her run up the stone steps and proudly open the giant wooden door a handful of times before this era of her life, of my life, is over. Her days of picking apples from the mural in the preschool stairwell are coming to a close. I've been walking down these stairs for eight years, which means I've eaten a lot of imaginary apples.

Soon, too soon, Mathilda will be five, which as any parent who has been there knows, is a world away from four. Preschool graduation will come and go, we will have our long awaited summer, and then, as my friend Julie says, the "k word".

I am choking on the pain of letting go.

Trying not to, because this is just life. It's how things work. "Mine" is not truly a word that can be used to describe any of my children. They belong to themselves. Truth is, I am more theirs than they are mine. I merely have had the privilege of helping to usher them into this physical world, to guide and protect them and let them dance on my toes until they are ready to fly across the dance floor of life on their own.

This brings me back to my Mathilda (I can't help it, it feels like she is mine) and her soul-affirming hugs. Who am I without a child to hold? I'm not sure I know. I'm not sure I want to know. But I do know there will come a day when my youngest will no longer want to sit on my lap, when she will be too busy for long hugs and cuddles, and when she will realize she doesn't need me nearly as much as she thinks she does right now. When that happens, well it feels like my very essence of being will just seep right out of me. I know that's not true. Kids grow up, parents live to tell about it. I am a person who can be described in terms outside the realm of motherhood. I know that's true.

I will always be a mother, and it will always be my most cherished role. Yet, as impossible as it is to fathom from where I stand now, before my first child was born, I was a whole and complete person. And as my children continue to grow and to need me less and less with each passing year, I will continue to be a whole and complete person, and continue to do plenty of growing and changing of my own. I know all this is true.

"Can I run and hug you, mama?" Yes, baby girl, you can. For as long as you are willing, I will lift you up as you take a running dive into my arms, and swing you around, and inhale the intoxicating scent of your sweet head while I kiss your soft little cheeks. And I will not think about whether this will be the last time.

9 Things I'd Tell My Tween Self

Dear Tween Me,

Those of us who survived the tween years know that they're no picnic. If we haven't totally blocked this whole awkward stage out of our minds, that is. I know you probably won't listen, but if you would, just for a minute, try to pay attention to your older and wiser self, I think you could learn a thing or two.

1. Everyone has a struggle. I know you think the grass is always greener. Things are easier for other people. Homework. Friends. Family life. Hair. Fashion. Gym class. But appearances can be deceiving. This is something you'll want to remember your whole life, and best start now. No matter how awesomely perfect you think that super popular girl's life is, you truly have no idea what kind of things she's dealing with in her personal life. 
2. Be thankful. You're rolling your eyes, I know you are. But I can save you a whole lot of trouble if you just heed this advice now. Many adults never even figure it out, but it's one of the most important life skills you can learn. Being happy is way better than being crabby, melancholy, depressed, jealous, and, well, unhappy. And being a happy person begins with gratitude. Trust me, you have a lot to be grateful for. Never, for one minute, forget that.
3. People are focused on themselves. You think the world is silently ridiculing you for wearing that jacket from last season, or because you have a little blemish on your forehead or because you lost the battle with the curling iron this morning. Relax. I get that kids your age can be jerks in a major way, but I promise you that no one is as hyper-focused on you as you are. They are too busy thinking about themselves, and being embarrassed because they don't have the "right" shoes or because their parents won't let them wear make-up yet.
4. Practice the Golden Rule. Again with the eye rolling. But think about it. Treat others as you would like to be treated. It's simple. It makes sense. Just do it. When you're tempted to join your buddies in being snarky about a classmate, think for a second how you would feel if someone talked to or about you like that. Suddenly it won't seem so funny anymore.
5. Keep a journal. There are a couple reasons for this little piece of advice. First of all, you think now that you will always remember the wonderful details of your youth. But memories fade. You will forget so much. Secondly, writing is cathartic. When you're feeling confused, sad, overwhelmed, or angry, write it out. It releases negativity and helps you sort things out in your mind. In other words, you'll feel better. Plus you'll be writing so much in high school and college, you might as well get in as much practice as you can now.
6. Be yourself. The temptation is great to fit in at any cost. You might not believe me right now, but standing out is a much better option. I know that there is a part of you that just doesn't want to be noticed right now. Or that only wants to be noticed as part of a group. But pretending to be someone you're not isn't the answer. Like what you like. Listen to the music you enjoy. Wear the clothes that make you feel good. Pursue the hobbies that interest you. People will still like you. If they don't, they can kiss off. Don't waste your energy on them. 
7. Your friends all shop at Kmart. I know how mortified you are every time your mom or grandma take you to Kmart. You are terrified that someone will see you walking in the store and tell everyone at school that you're a Blue Light shopper. But (considering that there was no Target back then) where else do you think people get their school supplies, toilet paper, and shampoo? They go to Kmart. They really do. 
8. Enjoy being the age you are right now. You want to grow up. You want to be independent and free. You'll get there, don't worry. In the meantime, thank your mother for doing your laundry, cooking your dinner, and giving you lunch money. Because when you're grown up, she won't do those things anymore. Your job right now is to be a kid, and that's not a bad job, so don't get too far ahead of yourself. 
9. Don't be afraid. You are frozen by fear of failure and embarrassment.  You are terrified of the unknown. Failing is okay. Everyone does it. You'll get over it and be better off for trying. There are worse things than being embarrassed for a minute. Learn to laugh at yourself, and keep in mind #3. The world is full of unknowns, and the fun of life is turning as many of them into knowns as you possibly can. 

Sincerely, 

38-year old me, who still has a lot to learn

Evolving Motherhood

My youngest little duckling went off to her second year of preschool this week. It hit me the other day that on her next birthday she'll be five. That's so...Big Kid. I won't have any little kids anymore. Crazy.

I love this age. I love our Mattie and Mama time when the big kids are at school. Mattie is at her sweetest and best when it's just the two of us. Oh I'm going to miss it!

I do realize that I have a whole year left, and there is no need to get ahead of myself. I want nothing more than to savor this last year of preschool magic, because when it's over life is going to be considerably different. I'm going to be so lonely, I know it already. My little buddy will be transformed into a big school girl. Gone will be our afternoons of cuddling on the couch, story time at the library, running errands together, going to the park. I feel so blessed to have had this special time with each of my kids. While I've always loved it, I admit that at times I took it for granted, or was too busy to notice, being too inundated with mothering little ones to think much about the fact that at some point it had to come to an end. And now I actually see the end of the road. It ends at an elementary school about a mile from my house, with Mathilda walking into her Kindergarten classroom.

Unfortunately, the school year has been off to a rough and stressful start in many regards. The sad truth is that I'm already fast forwarding to next summer in my mind. I'm wishing to be done with this crazy year, and it's barely started. I don't ever like to wish days away, so I'm trying to keep calm and carry on. I want to savor it. The preschool field trips and play dates, the working days*, the lunch dates for two. When it's done, it's done. The only real choice is to enjoy it all now while I can.

Keep calm. Carry on. Deep breaths. Slow down. Stop and smell the roses. And so on and so forth. I'm trying here people.

Mathilda has one more year to lay around in her pajamas, something she particularly relishes. She has one more year with sole control over the television between the hours of 8:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. One more year that she doesn't have to share me with her siblings during these same hours. For the next year she can continue to eat breakfast and lunch when she feels like it, and request a story and a cuddle anytime. After 12 years of mothering little kids, it's kind of impossible to fathom that we're coming to the end of the road.

My role is evolving.

Oh the time, how it flies. 

*Mathilda goes to a co-op preschool, which means that all the parents take turns working in the classroom.

Good Night, Sleep Tight

I was caught off guard.

Exactly when and how it happened, I'm not sure. It was while I was busy taxiing and soothing, fixing endless snacks and hoarding sleep by the minute. In the midst of the chaos of the past few months (which is really no different than any other period of our lives), Bethany and Connor started putting themselves to bed. Before that, I always, always, went in each of their rooms and "tucked them in" every single night. And then one night they stopped asking. I was probably busy, and they told me they were going up to bed and said good night. We always said our good nights upstairs, in, their bedrooms, but I figured it was a one time thing. They saw that I was in the middle of something and decided not to make a big deal out of it. I was probably grateful, because, to be honest, there were times when I was slightly peeved to stop what I was doing to do our nightly tuck in routine. By bedtime I am so tired, and still have much to do before I can call it a night.

But then it continued, night after night. My evenings got a little easier and I was mostly relieved. I don't really know why or how it happened, if they got together and discussed it and decided they are now old enough to go to bed on their own. There have even been a few times when one of them will go up to bed and forget to find me to say good night first. And then I go to them, because okay, fine, they can put themselves to bed. But not without a "good night" and an "I love you" and even a "sweet dreams." Also, preferably, not without a hug and a kiss. That's how I want our nights to end, no matter how grown up they get.

When you have little kids, it's hard to imagine a moment like this ever happening. It's hard to imagine freedom and independence. And then when it happens, it's sort of anti-climatic. I feel a little like I'm waving my arms and saying, "No, no, no! I'm not ready for this yet!" What stops me from totally losing it, for now, is that I do still have little kids too, so my tucking in days are far from over.

It's kind of like I have two sets of kids: Bethany & Connor, and Lucy & Mattie. Bethany and Connor are growing up. In some ways it's nice, but in some ways I don't like it. The time has gone by SO FAST. Too fast. They each only have about an inch or two to grow before they catch up with me, and then it will be little more than a hot minute before they pass me right up on the growth chart. I have to say, it makes me feel a little sick. Even though I have two more to go, I know the time will fly with them as well. Pretty soon my kids will barely need me. That's a scary thought, and also a liberating thought. Who am I if I'm not on mom duty 24/7, if I'm not consistently needed around the clock?

This is a milestone school year for us. When it's over, our youngest will be leaving preschool, and our son will be leaving elementary school. I'm pressing on the brakes as hard as I can, but the gears are spinning out of control.

Onto Bigger Things

I feel like I'm running full force toward the edge of a cliff, wanting nothing more than to Stop! Stop! Stop! yet at the same time excited for the inevitable free fall ahead.

Bethany is now officially done with elementary school. I remember, growing up, that feeling of the end of an era. It came every time I moved, at the end of 5th grade, at the end of middle school, at high school graduation. Promises are made. Hopes hang in the balance. Nothing will ever be the same again.

We'll keep in touch. We'll always be friends.

This is not my life.

Bethany is excited, but sad too. She cried at the 5th grade award ceremony. She cried on the last day of school. For months she's been ecstatic about leaving elementary school and moving onto middle school, anxious to grow up as she always has been. And then I guess it hit her: that knowledge that this phase of her life is over. That she won't be in this building anymore that has become so comfortable. That she will no longer know all the teachers and most of the kids. That she might not even have classes with some of her friends.

This is not my life.

Bethany  has a lifetime of new beginnings ahead of her. She's just learning that new beginnings, while exciting, are usually bittersweet as well. Change is a good thing, and, of course, necessary. Kids need to learn adaptability. They need to be able to make new friends. They need to learn, again and again, how to make the uncomfortable tolerable at first, and then, eventually, comfortable.

This is not my life.

The thing is, I like Bethany's friends. I know their parents. I'm in the comfort zone, and I like being here. I know something right now that Bethany doesn't really get yet. Soon some of her friends won't be her friends anymore. They will drift apart. They will have different classes and meet new friends. Middle school will simply not be the same. It can't be the same, it shouldn't be the same, but a part of me wants very much for it to be the same. I just want to grab onto the edge of that cliff and hang on for dear life.

This is not my life.

Nowadays kids have tools that I didn't have as a kid. They have email and cell phones and texting and Facebook (we're still holding out on that one...). There will still be drifting apart and new friendships, not to mention middle school drama, but it's easier for them to stay connected. That gives me hope. 

This is not my life.

 

Change is exciting and fun, and I feel that for Bethany. But I also feel a little sad. My first born is done with elementary school. I'd say it's been a success. She is congenial and outgoing and has more friends than I can keep track of. She is independent and full of ideas. She's creative and she works hard. I don't think that middle school is ever easy, but I do think that Bethany will love it. I just wish I could take away the painful part of this transition, although I know it wouldn't be as much of a beneficial learning experience without the inherent pain. 

I'm holding in my tears, because this is Bethany's life. She is going to be just fine. More than fine, in fact. And so am I. After all, I get to live this vicariously three more times...

Happy Birthday, Sassy Little Sweetheart

Yesterday I had jury duty, for the first time ever. Aside from the babysitting issues, I wouldn't mind serving on a jury. But I was so afraid I would get stuck in a trial and not be able to be with my Mattie today, on her third birthday. I lucked out, and the case ended up getting resolved. So today, me and my baby girl are hanging out together while Chris is at work and the big kids are at school. I tried to convince  her to let me hold her all day and pretend she's still a baby, but she resolutely proclaimed, "I a BIG girl!" My brain knows she is a big girl, but my heart, it doth protest.

Mathilda, at three, is a whirlwind of emotions and moods. She is sassy, spunky, and sweeter than sweet. Tough and glowering one moment, and insisting that she is a ballerina and showing off a perfect twirl the next. She exasperates me with her (let's be honest) fierce crabbiness. And the next minute, she's just as likely to melt my heart as she jumps up and down and shouts, "Mama, I love you so much! Thank you for being my mama!"

We found out about Mathilda's impending arrival during one of the most stressful and trying times of our marriage. We had a lot going on. But I believe there is only one way to welcome the news of a new baby, and that is with joy. Although I always wanted to have four children, I never really thought it would happen. So in spite of everything, we embraced our happy news. The timing seemed all wrong, but now I've come to realize that the right time to have a baby is when you have a baby.

From her very first days, Mattie has tried my very last ounce of patience. I remember being in the hospital, exhausted from child birth, and just sobbing because she would not latch on and eat, even though she was clearly starving. That's pretty much how things continued to go. Before long she got the nursing thing down (and never, no exaggeration, accepted a bottle feeding), but it took her much longer to ease into a sleeping routine that the rest of us could live with. Like, 18 months longer. Just when I thought I couldn't take one more second, I would look at my baby, content to be held in my arms, and realize how lucky I was and how fleeting this time would be. With three kids under my belt already, I knew there would come a time when I'd miss holding my baby, even at the expense of sleep and sanity. And that day has come.

I no longer have a baby. I have a little girl who will be starting preschool in a few months. She walks and talks and uses the potty, and she doesn't want to be held so much anymore. She'd rather hang upside down off the couch, hop around the house like a frog, or practice her ballerina moves. I love her independence, I really do. It is joyful watching her grow; physically and emotionally. And her confidence grows with every growth spurt. Each stage (I can only speak through age 10 and a half) has its own special attributes to admire and appreciate. But as Mathilda moves onto each new one, I can't help but grieve a tiny bit for the one she just left behind. The baby days are officially a part of my past. I will never be the mama of a baby again.

I am utterly head over heels in love with my little red-headed, blue-eyed sass pot. I love her dimples and her curls. I love the ballet shoes that she insists on wearing 24/7. I love the way she climbs on our old dog Cleo and tries to ride her like a pony. I love watching her on the swings, and the way she is moved to dance the moment she hears a song she likes. I love when she runs at me full force to hug me with all of her might. I even love how she stamps her foot and shouts, "Never!" like a vexed socialite every time she's asked to do something she'd rather not do. I love her passion, and I love that she's mine. Because even though she is undoubtedly a big girl now, she will always, always be my baby.

Happy 3rd Birthday, sweet Mattie.

Goodbye Baby

There's a thought that I just can't shake lately. I look at Mathilda and I am blown away that this time next year she's going to be a bonafide preschooler. Right now she still has her baby looks. She's 2 and a half, but she still is a baby as far as I'm concerned. I could squeeze her chunky little legs all day long. Her skin is soft and flawless and her hair, though long, is baby-fine. She wants me to kiss all of her boo-boos, yet she squirms out of my lap and cuts our cuddles short so she can run off and do her own thing . She's a pretty good talker, but oftentimes Chris and I still need to translate. My baby girl is on the cusp of not being a baby anymore. (Now if she would just start using the potty...)

When we moved into this house two and a half years ago, Lucy was the same age that Mathilda is now (okay, 2 months older). Mathilda is starting to wear the clothes that Lucy was wearing at that time. Two and a half years is not that long. In that time, Lucy went from being my baby to being a big shot kindergartener. These thoughts are hurting my heart. I knew, when I became a parent, that my kids would grow away from me. But I couldn't have imagined how hard it would be to let them go.

Mathilda stopped sleeping in her crib over a month ago, and the garbage men took the broken and outlawed thing away a week or two ago. All of my babies slept in that crib. My grandma bought it for me when I was pregnant with Bethany. While they will always be my babies, even when they're grown and have babies of their own, a last vestige of all of their babyhoods just went out with the trash.

Watching my kids grow up is wondrous and exciting. Witnessing them become more independent is gratifying. But it's bittersweet. Maybe I need to be needed, maybe I just relish the relative simplicity of the baby and toddler stages. Yes,  in many respects it's more intense and more draining, but I love being "in it". Once they're in school, so much of their lives happen without me being right in the midst of it all. Every day, three of my kids spend hours away from me, and all I can get out of them after school are cryptic and vague comments like, "we had indoor recess," or, "we had a guest teacher," or maybe, "I have homework." I ask questions, prying information out of them, but it's not easy going. I am not the center of their world anymore, as they are mine. I can only hope that as they grow they'll continue to need me, and they'll invite me in, and let me run my fingers through their hair, smoothing their cowlicks and kissing their sweet cheeks all the while.

Growing Up - The Mom Edition

Sometimes I don't think I feel any different than I did in high school. I still feel like a kid. I want to call my mom whenever I don't know what to do. Other people try to make decisions for me, which doesn't help me feel mature and independent. I definitely don't always feel like I can live freely as an adult - that goes for Chris and I both. My perception is that I am perhaps expected to remain childlike. 


Other times I feel old. I look at pictures of our family when it was just Chris, Bethany, and I; and I was really young then. My life has since changed drastically. It hits me that I can remember my grandparents being the same age that my parents and in-laws are now; and that they seemed so old at the time. Life speeds by and it's surreal. I have four kids, and I'm going grocery shopping and doing laundry and driving my monkeys all over the place and making grown-up decisions a million times a day. It hits me that I have more freedom than I sometimes feel like I have.


I think about what it will be like when our parents get older; stuff no one wants to think about. I think everyone hopes their parents will never need to go into a nursing home, or need a lot of care. We don't want to think of our parents needing assistance or being helpless in any way. I'm my mom's only child, which may someday be a huge responsibility.


I have lots of dreams of traveling someday, or maybe even leaving Michigan, at least temporarily. But leaving our parents could be a concern. Hopefully, if need be, we'll be able to find a service such as New Jersey elder care, where home health aids and nurse assistants come to the home to help seniors. I think that NJ senior care is a great solution for some circumstances. Hopefully, if we needed it, something like this will be available here in Michigan.


What about you? Is age just a number to you? Do you feel old, or do you still feel like a spring chicken?


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Time and Tide Wait for No Preschooler

This has been a monumental week for my growing babies. First Mathilda turned two, and now Lucy is a preschool graduate.Wow. I wish someone could explain to me the physics of how time moves more quickly once one becomes a parent. Because maybe then I could figure out the secret to slowing it down. That old saying "time and tide wait for no man" is the fabric of my life. Whenever I think, "wow that school year sure flew by," or "Christmas already?" or "I can't believe my baby just turned ___," I always think of this phrase. Sometimes I feel like I'm holding onto a kite string in a wind storm and it's slipping out of my hands uncontrollably. I do my best to embrace change, but I would at times like to hit the slow motion button on the remote control of life.
 
Lucy's last regular day of preschool was Monday, and when she came home she told me she "almost cried". She had a great group of kids in her class, and they're all going off to different schools in the fall and Lucy might never see any of them again. I'm pretty sure she hasn't grasped that yet, but I have and it makes me sad. Those kids have a great group of moms, and I might not see most of them again either. Unfortunately we can't stay in the sweet, simple world of preschool forever. And I have Mathilda's preschool years to look forward to.

I celebrated Lucy's big day by letting Bethany and Connor play hooky from school so they could attend the graduation. Afterward we went to the library and hung out for a couple hours, one of their favorite things to do. And I even bought them lunch at the library's cafe, something they ask for all the time and I always say "no". Lucy fell asleep in the car on the way home. She is still a baby after all. Breathe. Kiss her cheeks. Embrace the moment.

All 3 of my preschool graduates with their teachers

Connor is reliving his happy days of yore

At one point Mathilda disappeared and this is where we found her

Lucy's favorite thing to do at preschool

Bethany loved being chased by a bunch of preschoolers

I repeatedly tried to get a picture of the sisters in the matching dresses, but Mathilda was not having it. In this shot she is pushing Lucy away from her. She only wanted to drive around in the red car without anyone getting in her way.

Neither Here Nor There

We've been having some truly frigid weather, and the temperatures the past couple days in the 30's and 40's are so refreshing. I swear there was a warm breeze. Although there is still snow on the ground, this kind of weather always reminds me of Easter for some reason. Early warm breezes take me back to Easter egg hunts at Salter Park that my Uncle Herb put together for my cousins and I every year. Some years we were shedding our sweaters as we searched for that last egg (with a $5 bill in it!) and other years we were freezing and racing back to the car as soon as we were finished. Back at Aunt Char and Uncle Herb's house, I looked forward to the predictable menu of ham, homemade potato salad and noodle salad, hard boiled eggs, and seven layer Jello. I hate mayonnaise and Miracle Whip (and I'm not sure which she uses), but love my Aunt Char's potato salad and noodle salad. I should really get those recipes from her, even though I have it in my mind that it won't taste the same if she doesn't make it. There were also the little glass dishes full of pastel M&M's, jelly beans, and all sorts of candy goodies for me to grab as I strategically walked by them over and over again because my mom never (ever) had candy in the house and I had to get my fill anytime I could. (Yes I did get candy in my Easter basket. But other than that - never, and especially no candy in accessible little dishes scattered throughout the house.) As much as I loved candy, I think my favorite Easter gift ever was the set of Anne of Green Gables books my mom got for me one year. I should get those out for Bethany. I hope she enjoys them as much as I did.


Two years ago my Uncle Herb died, too young and too painfully. Three of my kids knew him, but not nearly well enough. Maybe their lives are better in many ways than my own childhood, but it makes me sad that there are so many things they have missed out on that I had, like Uncle Herb's Easter egg hunts. Like spending day after day with cousins and aunts and my Grandma all summer while my mom worked. I have lots of wonderful memories of those days, even though I'm sure my mom would have rather been with me than at work, and I'm sure there were lots of days I wished I didn't have to wake up early and could have stayed home and played with my friends in the neighborhood. Instead my kids have a mom who is home with them everyday all summer, and I'm so happy for that, and I know they will have their own brand of special memories. 

My kids don't have cousins, but they have each other. There are no bored and lonely days around here, like I had as an only child. They have two parents and a level of stability that I never knew until I was an adult. What they've never had is the adventure of leaving everything and everyone they know and getting on a train to Phoenix to start a new life, which my mom and I did when I was 6 years old; of needing to depend upon the kindness of strangers, and having playmates who don't speak the same language. They've also never known the tiresomeness of making new friends with the start of every new school year, which was hard but taught me a lot about relating to others.

I guess I'm kind of rambling, so what's my point? Maybe just that there's more than one way to have a happy family and a happy childhood. Endless ways, in fact. Maybe we worry so much about doing the whole parenting thing "right" when the truth is we make our own "right" that fits our personal lives and families. There's a give and take, and despite our best wishes and efforts we can't have everything and we can't give our children everything. 

My kids have to miss out on some things to get other things. They don't have the (relatively) adventurous, rambling life I had as a kid, but they have something different and maybe better. So they are missing some things I took for granted, like friends from different cultures, seeing first hand how people live in different areas, needing to have the skills necessary to meet new people and make new friends on a regular basis, the ability to improvise out of need, a sense of wanderlust. In exchange, they have friends they've known for years. They have their own beds (something I didn't experience until I was in 3rd grade...I shared with my mom, slept on couches, and even used an orange vinyl beanbag chair as a bed for a short time). When I was a kid, I always wanted to be like my friends who had known each other since kindergarten, with brothers and sisters, and two parents, and a regular home. And now my kids have that; they have what I wished I had. I'm grateful. But I also want for them some of what I had. 

*****

I have a lot to be grateful for lately. I've had people, some I don't even know, offer to help me get to the bottom of my health issues. People are generally nice and caring and want to help. The generosity I've been the recipient of has been truly humbling and so sweet and appreciated. 

My wonderful preschool co-board members took it upon themselves to decide we would meet at a coffee shop last week, even though the meeting was scheduled to be at my house. They knew I had been sick and maybe didn't need one more thing on my plate. 

Lucy went to a super fun birthday party over the weekend for a preschool classmate. Like I've said before, I love preschool. I love the other kids and their families. So Lucy got to ride a horse at the party, which she was very excited about. Which is funny because in the past she has been extremely reluctant to even ride the smallest pony. I guess she is growing up.

My friend Julie's little girl also had a birthday party over the weekend. She is turning 2 this week. All 6 of us went to her party, and since I love Julie and I love her family it was a nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon. And the kids loved it all the more because it was held at a restaurant where they were given the opportunity to repeatedly put tokens in a couple of machines in exchange for crappy candy and plastic junk. What could be better?

Today was my working day at preschool, and it was fun being there for the Valentine's Day party. Otherwise Valentine's Day is one of those days that doesn't really mean much to me. Maybe it should, since it's a day for celebrating love. But I think everyday is a day to celebrate love. And Chris and I don't really go for romantic mushy gushy stuff anyhow. But happy Valentine's Day nonetheless; go spread some love.

 

Snip, Snip; Sniff, Sniff

Our baby making days are officially over. Chris bravely faced his own 

personal V-Day yesterday. He is sore but relieved, oh so very relieved. 

Not that he doesn't love being a father of four, but being a father of  

five is decidedly not on his agenda. 

As a friend pointed out to me, perhaps the anticipation of this event has 

spurred my recent melancholia concerning the rapidly passing youth of my 

little chickies. Maybe so, and I do miss the younger baby days. But I think

I'm ready to move forward, to a life that will never again include maternity 

clothes and epidurals, and that will soon no longer involve nursing and 

diapers.I will enjoy my ever expanding freedom as my kids grow more and 

more independent. Even while periodically wishing I could go back in time 

and smell that new baby scent once again, and hold their tiny little fingers, 

and kiss their delicious itty bitty ears.

In the not-too-distant horizon, I can almost see a life where all of my kids are in school, every day. Where no one needs me to wipe their bottoms or pour them some juice (as soon as I sit down to eat my already cold meal). Where I can maybe think about going back to school, or having a career, or going grocery shopping alone anytime I want to. I have to admit, it sounds kind of nice. I am looking forward to this new life, but I will also savor the moments and milestones along the way to it. I will hold their 9,7,4, and 1 year old hands, and kiss their 10,8,5, and 2 year old ears. And maybe sometimes I will still think, "what if?", but I will know in my heart that I would have lost my mind with one more baby, so it's best that we stopped with four.

I'm About To Enter Another Dimension

I think I must be living in the twilight zone. How else to explain that this little girl...

is going to Kindergarten this very year? I filled out the registration paperwork, gathered up the required documents, and I'll be dropping everything off at the school office tomorrow. But since time and space have no meaning, that means I can just go back to those sweet baby days  ^ any time I want to, right? Right??? 

Maybe her next birthday would be a more appropriate time to reminisce my sweet Lucy's babyhood, but...but...she's going to Kindergarten! This fall! Holy cow!

When I discovered I was expecting Lucy, my Grandma was fading from this world quickly. Although the pregnancy wasn't planned, I felt so happy and at peace with it. Of course I was happy and excited when I was pregnant with Bethany and Connor too, but my third felt different somehow. Maybe just because I was in my 30's as opposed to my 20's, or more experienced as a mother, or because I really wanted another baby but didn't quite believe it would ever happen. All I know is that when I look back at that point in my life, it was one of my most joyful times. Which is really kind of weird because my Grandma was so very sick, and I couldn't imagine my life without her in it. When she passed away, I hadn't yet learned that Lucy was going to be a girl. I wish I had known so I could have told my Grandma that her fourth great-grandchild was going to be named after her. 

I used to think, when she was in-utero, that Lucy could understand me when I talked to her.  Later in my pregnancy, when I would find myself worrying because she wasn't moving around much (hello? not much room in there), I would ask her to please move so I wouldn't worry. And she did.

When Lucy was born, the peaceful feeling continued. I decided to try nursing again, after a disastrous attempt with Bethany. I kept at it, talking myself through the horrible pain and...well I won't go into details, let's just say it was uncomfortable. But I made it through the ugly part and before too long it wasn't so hard, and I was really proud of myself for making it work this time. She was a horrible sleeper, which was a blow after having my first two champion sleeper-through-the-nighters. I seem to remember the pediatrician telling me it was about time I "got a real baby." But oddly, I didn't really mind. She slept with us and prevented me from getting a good night sleep for about 18 months. Yet somehow I was patient and enjoyed the time with her. Even before she could talk, we always kind of had a way of understanding each other. Sometimes I wonder if my Grandma came back to me in the form of a lively little sass-pot named Lucy Margaret George.

My Lucy continues to be a source of endless joy in my life, although she can sometimes be, ahem, challenging.  She skipped right past the terrible 2's, and didn't really start with the tyrannical 3's until she was thoroughly convinced Mathilda was a permanent fixture in our family. Nonetheless, Lucy is a good big sister (most of the time) and a good(ish) little sister (most of the time). She is sweet and loving and generous and cuddly and has cheeks I just want to gobble up. And I really don't know how it is possible that she is going off to Kindergarten this fall.

Growing Up Is Hard To Do

I hesitate to put this out in the universe, but I think a corner has been rounded in my household. Mathilda is indeed sleeping in her crib for the fourth night in a row. She has fallen asleep on her own these four nights, with very few tears involved. I read to her and Lucy (Mathilda stays safely across the room from me as I read), put on a movie for them (I know, I know ~ terrible habit! but it works so I'm sticking with it), put Mathilda in the crib while carefully avoiding eye contact (because if she looks me in the eye, it'll be all over, I just know it!), and turn off the light. Then as I'm heading down the stairs she calls out "buh-bye" and that's that. The trauma has been incredibly minimal.

I've been waiting for this momentous occasion. Yet...I'm kind of sad about it. My baby is growing up. She suddenly doesn't need me as much as she did last week. There's no going back. A little part of me just wants to crawl in bed and cry because, well, I've done this before and I know in the blink of an eye this baby of mine is going to be coming home from school and telling me she has a boyfriend (in 4th grade?! WTH?!) and I'm going to look at her and suddenly get a glimpse of what she'll look like when she's 18. She'll make her own sandwiches, tie her own shoes, and modestly close her bedroom door when she's changing her clothes. 

I have four beautiful, healthy children and really, I'm good with that. Truthfully I always wanted to have four kids. And I think I'm teetering on a fine line between slightly lingering sanity and utter chaotic mayhem. But...every stage Mathilda passes is sort of heartbreaking. I miss the baby days. And soon I'll be missing the toddler days. And knowing I'm never going to go through it again (because I'm not) is hard.

(wait, let me dry my tears)

On the other hand...kids setting their own alarms, waking up on their own, and fixing their own cereal in the morning is nice. So is kids getting in the van on their own and buckling their own seat belts, not to mention answering the phone, feeding the dog, taking their own showers, and changing the channel on the t.v. As my kids gain independence one step at a time, my life gets a little easier. I enjoy and appreciate that. But I also cherish each stage and yearn for the Wonder Twin power to freeze time every now and again.

Many years ago, back in 7th or 8th grade, one of my friends wrote a story that I've never forgotten.  I can't remember the name of it (there's a good chance the class compilation it was published in is still in my mom's basement...) but it was about bottling up memories, special times in our lives, and being able to open the bottles and re-live those moments any time we choose. Like bathing in the essence of your wedding day, smelling and hearing and seeing and feeling everything you experienced at that moment. Can you imagine? In my mind, that is what heaven is like. I have no idea how my friend knew the poignancy of what she wrote at that age, when life seemed to span on for an eternity and stalling time was the last thing I would have wanted to do because I was forever anticipating the next thing, whatever that was. I don't know if you're reading this, Jen Beckmann, but if you are, thank you for that story (among many other things).

All my babies are growing up, and it is bittersweet. I miss who they were, enjoy who they've become, and joyfully look forward to what's to come.