Maintaining friendships is such a drag when mixed with motherhood.
Here is how my latest attempt went:
I call a friend of mine on Monday afternoon and invite her and her nearly one-year-old daughter to meet me and my kids at the Japanese Gardens on Wednesday at whatever time works for her. I leave this invitation on her machine.
I run some errands, and come home to a message from her on my machine. She'd love to get together on Wednesday. She asks me to call her back to set up a time.
It is early evening. I put Little Beauty in the tub with some toys, and put Little Handsome in his highchair and begin feeding him his dinner. With my free hand (haha) I grab the phone and call my friend back. I'm busy with my kids, she is busy with hers, but we manage to have a brief conversation about Nanny 911 of all things, and then, after discussing the kids nap schedules, we decide to meet at 1:00 p.m. on Wednesday. I write it on my calender.
Great!
Wednesday, 11:00 a.m. - I call to confirm. We are still on, and we decide to meet a bit earlier, 12:45 p.m. All is well. She even says that she will try to be on time (quite the challange with kids).
The Japanese Gardens 12:45 p.m. I pull into the parking lot and don't see her car. I'm not worried though, we've been so diligent in our planning.
1:00 p.m. LB has the koi swarming beneath the little bridge as she drops dried pellets of fish food which she has purchased with a quarter. I'm wondering if my friend knows where the Japanese Gardens are because we didn't talk about that. But they are on the campus of the college she attended, so . . .
1:30 p.m. We've walked the loop of the garden twice and spent another quarter on fish food. LH is asleep in the stroller and LB keeps asking where her "baby friend" (my friend's daughter) is. I tell her I don't know if they are going to make it. LB says it wil be sad if they don't make it. I agree. I curse myself for not having a cell phone. Who do I think I am, living without a cell phone!
1:45 p.m. We walk the loop one more time - around the lake, over the little arched bridge, past the garden of immaculately raked stones, beneath the blossoming tree and darting hummingbirds. I realize another attempt at friendship maintance has gone awry and we decide to leave. LB is sure we will she my friends car when we go to the parking lot. I tell her that we won't, but we will probably have a message on our answering maching when we get home. She asks me what an answering machine is.
The message: my friend says she forgot to ask which Gap we were meeting at, so she is going to go to the one on 2nd street and hope to find me there. I think, The Gap??????
We talk later that afternoon. She thought I invited her, on that original message I left, to meet at the Gap at some gardens. She says my voice was muffled. In subsequent conversations we never discussed where we were meeting, just at what time. The location was a given, for me it was the Japanese Gardens, for her it was the Gap at some gardens.
The moral of the story: We both laugh (more like a fatigued, dissapointed chuckle), knowing that it is par for the course. Then we bravely make plans for next Wednesday, tenative plans anyway. So why even try? Because I wasn't the only one feeling stood up and bummed out, my friend was too. And the idea of giving up on her, not to mention my other friends, just because we have kids and it is hard to get together - I can't think of anything more depressing.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Jackpot!!!
This week has been full of parenting payoff. Little Handsome uttered his first word: mama. I love it! He has said it three times now, twice with me and once when my mom was babysitting.
He claps now too, when he is really happy or excited. His singing Spider-man doll seems to do the trick. I place that thing in front of him, turn it on and LH goes clapping crazy and his little hands even make real live clapping sounds! LH claps wildly for Spider-man and I clap wildly for LH!
More payoff: I find myself waking up in the middle of the night and wandering through my quiet house - only out of habit. LH is making it through the night with a minimal amount of fuss lately, so my fatigue is fading away like a bad dream.
Little Beauty is also paying dividends. She appears to be slowly and steadily emerging from what I like to call 'three-year-old brain fever.' Her manic episodes are diminishing in intensity, although she still possess an awe-inspiring amount of energy, she is better able to harness it while remaining coherent.
In addition, my battles with LB are ending more often and more quickly with the words: "Okay mama," or "Alright, alright!" Music to my war-torn ears.
And what shall I do with my new found parental currency? I will revel is some of it (LB's steps toward sanity), and I will save some for a rainy day, as they say (LH's first "mama") - because if I've learned anything as a parent, it is that next week I will probably be bankrupt.
He claps now too, when he is really happy or excited. His singing Spider-man doll seems to do the trick. I place that thing in front of him, turn it on and LH goes clapping crazy and his little hands even make real live clapping sounds! LH claps wildly for Spider-man and I clap wildly for LH!
More payoff: I find myself waking up in the middle of the night and wandering through my quiet house - only out of habit. LH is making it through the night with a minimal amount of fuss lately, so my fatigue is fading away like a bad dream.
Little Beauty is also paying dividends. She appears to be slowly and steadily emerging from what I like to call 'three-year-old brain fever.' Her manic episodes are diminishing in intensity, although she still possess an awe-inspiring amount of energy, she is better able to harness it while remaining coherent.
In addition, my battles with LB are ending more often and more quickly with the words: "Okay mama," or "Alright, alright!" Music to my war-torn ears.
And what shall I do with my new found parental currency? I will revel is some of it (LB's steps toward sanity), and I will save some for a rainy day, as they say (LH's first "mama") - because if I've learned anything as a parent, it is that next week I will probably be bankrupt.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Working Mom
I am a working mother now, two nights a week. I am actually writing this post from work. My job as an English tutor at a community college takes place in a room full of computers, and comes with a lot of down time. I usually tutor an average of three students for twenty minutes each over the course of my four hour shift. Needless to say, I've caught up on a lot of reading, and now that they have generously offered me access to a computer, perhaps my posts will become more frequent. I'm shooting for one a week! Ambitious - I know.
Speaking of reading, I've just started the book The Childhood Roots of Adult Happiness by Edward M. Hallowell, M.D. I'm getting a lot out of it so far.
The past six months have been difficult for me. LB turned three and morphed into this incredibly complex creature. We went through a period of intense, wild tantrums. She developed an alter-ego in the form of "kitty" - and kitty doesn't like to follow the rules. She doesn't like eat off of a plate, or the table for that matter. Kitty eats only the tiniest morsels of food she has placed on the dining table chair while she crouches on all fours on that same chair. We have a new rule - no kittys allowed at the table. Then, into the madness comes the second child, LH. I am still adjusting to having two kids. I am battling the constant frustration that comes from getting nothing done.
Then I started this book and it has me adjusting my outlook.
Speaking of reading, I've just started the book The Childhood Roots of Adult Happiness by Edward M. Hallowell, M.D. I'm getting a lot out of it so far.
The past six months have been difficult for me. LB turned three and morphed into this incredibly complex creature. We went through a period of intense, wild tantrums. She developed an alter-ego in the form of "kitty" - and kitty doesn't like to follow the rules. She doesn't like eat off of a plate, or the table for that matter. Kitty eats only the tiniest morsels of food she has placed on the dining table chair while she crouches on all fours on that same chair. We have a new rule - no kittys allowed at the table. Then, into the madness comes the second child, LH. I am still adjusting to having two kids. I am battling the constant frustration that comes from getting nothing done.
Then I started this book and it has me adjusting my outlook.
Hollowell writes: There is one point that many parenting books miss:children do more for us than we do for them. The most important advice in any parenting book ought to be this:Enjoy your children. Learn from your children, listen to what they say, play with them while you can, let them activate those parts of you that had already started to go dead before they were born, and let those parts of you energize your work, your friendships, your spiritual life, every part of your life that there is.
When I am able to get past the dirty dishes, the laundry, the unfinished home improvement projects, the unread books, etc.- what my children have given me is what really defines my experience as a mother.
When my kids are happy, when they emanate the purest kind of joy, the satisfaction and contentment I feel is primal and complete. The basic desire to feed, clothe, nurture and heal my children comes from a place in me I didn't know existed. As a person who leans toward the cerebral, motherhood was sort of off my radar. It took the presence of my children to, as Hollowell puts it, 'activate' the primal, instinctive, sensual side of my nature. And I believe that the other areas of my life, my relationships, my understanding of myself, have benefited from what my children have brought out in me. Instead of ruminating on what I'm not getting done, I need to become aware of the ways in which God is refining me and humbling me and blessing me through the gift of my children.
When I am able to get past the dirty dishes, the laundry, the unfinished home improvement projects, the unread books, etc.- what my children have given me is what really defines my experience as a mother.
When my kids are happy, when they emanate the purest kind of joy, the satisfaction and contentment I feel is primal and complete. The basic desire to feed, clothe, nurture and heal my children comes from a place in me I didn't know existed. As a person who leans toward the cerebral, motherhood was sort of off my radar. It took the presence of my children to, as Hollowell puts it, 'activate' the primal, instinctive, sensual side of my nature. And I believe that the other areas of my life, my relationships, my understanding of myself, have benefited from what my children have brought out in me. Instead of ruminating on what I'm not getting done, I need to become aware of the ways in which God is refining me and humbling me and blessing me through the gift of my children.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Baby Naps
Why I sleep with my back to my baby....
I don't understand the co-sleeping phenomenon. How can I sleep with this perfect little face in front of me? My eyes refuse to close with something so beautiful before them. The impulse to kiss the fullness of his cheeks and to rub the softness of his tiny hands overwhelms me, and if I do then he wakes up, squandering my rare moment of rest. So now I've learned to only indulge in his sleeping beauty for a few minutes, then I turn my back to him. Sometimes his warm foot or hand will fall against my back and instantly I am asleep. When he begins to stir I wake not only rested but restored, then I turn back to him and bask in his smiling reaction to my face.
I don't understand the co-sleeping phenomenon. How can I sleep with this perfect little face in front of me? My eyes refuse to close with something so beautiful before them. The impulse to kiss the fullness of his cheeks and to rub the softness of his tiny hands overwhelms me, and if I do then he wakes up, squandering my rare moment of rest. So now I've learned to only indulge in his sleeping beauty for a few minutes, then I turn my back to him. Sometimes his warm foot or hand will fall against my back and instantly I am asleep. When he begins to stir I wake not only rested but restored, then I turn back to him and bask in his smiling reaction to my face.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
You Indian!
Little Beauty has begun name-calling. It started when she told her little brother, who was hitting himself in the face with his tiny fists, "Don't hit yourself in the face you silly Indian!"
As she repeated this phrase over and over again, as is the tendency of a three-year-old, my husband and I looked at each other, wondering where she got the term Indian and what exactly she meant when she called her little brother one.
The mystery was solved a few nights later when I was washing her hair in the tub and some water got into her eyes. With her little eyes squeezed shut she shouted at me, "You got water in my eyes - you Indian!" Suddenly, it sounded familiar to me, and then I got it. What she meant was - you idiot.
Sadly, idiot is a term I'm fond of and obviously I throw it around a bit too much. Note to self: watch the idiot ejections. All I said to LB in the tub was that it wasn't nice to call names and I made her apologize. I didn't correct her. I didn't tell her that what she meant to say was idiot not Indian. Maybe I should have. It's probably worse for her to throw around what some consider a racial epithet rather than an ordinary insult. I'll have to think more about that one.
Then we were at the park the other day when LB discovered some graffiti on her beloved rock climbing wall. She said, "Mama, look what some dummies did. They're ruining our park!" I agreed with her and told her she was right - and I didn't say anything about her using the word dummies, mainly because I agreed with her and thought she was right. Moreover, she wasn't using the word to be mean. It was simply and adjective - an astute one at that.
As she repeated this phrase over and over again, as is the tendency of a three-year-old, my husband and I looked at each other, wondering where she got the term Indian and what exactly she meant when she called her little brother one.
The mystery was solved a few nights later when I was washing her hair in the tub and some water got into her eyes. With her little eyes squeezed shut she shouted at me, "You got water in my eyes - you Indian!" Suddenly, it sounded familiar to me, and then I got it. What she meant was - you idiot.
Sadly, idiot is a term I'm fond of and obviously I throw it around a bit too much. Note to self: watch the idiot ejections. All I said to LB in the tub was that it wasn't nice to call names and I made her apologize. I didn't correct her. I didn't tell her that what she meant to say was idiot not Indian. Maybe I should have. It's probably worse for her to throw around what some consider a racial epithet rather than an ordinary insult. I'll have to think more about that one.
Then we were at the park the other day when LB discovered some graffiti on her beloved rock climbing wall. She said, "Mama, look what some dummies did. They're ruining our park!" I agreed with her and told her she was right - and I didn't say anything about her using the word dummies, mainly because I agreed with her and thought she was right. Moreover, she wasn't using the word to be mean. It was simply and adjective - an astute one at that.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Post-Widsom
Seven days of excruciating pain and counting. The perks evaporated as the bruises appeared. My husband is calling me "Vicki" because I renewed my perscription for vicodin. This is not pleasant.
Thursday, January 4, 2007
The Wisdom in my Teeth
After having all four of my impacted wisdom teeth yanked from my head within the space of an hour (bravo to my oral surgeon), I've spent the majority of the last two days in bed hopped up on a cocktail of vicodin, ibuprofen and acetaminophen. The swelling and the pain has been intense, yes, but the perks are worth mentioning.
Did you catch the part where I said I've spent the last two days in bed? A miracle for a mother. When we arrived home from the dental office my husband parked me in bed, popped in one my favorite movies, The Big Lebowski (and if you've seen The Big Lebowski you'd know it's well suited to vicodin-laden viewing) and then hauled the kids off to the park. Normally when he takes the kids anywhere I tackle the chores that are otherwise impossible with kidlets underfoot.
Another perk: I couldn't talk, at least not with any volume or clarity due to the wads of gauze in each cheek, the dryness of my throat and the numbness of my entire lower face. So what was the perk? Well, when I felt the compulsion to control coming over me, I was simply unable to give commands. I had to let go. I had to forgo asking my daughter is she wiped, flushed and washed after each visit to the potty. I couldn't raise my voice over my screaming son's to tell my husband to rock him not bounce him. My voicelessness forced me to relinquish my control over the minute workings of our family - and no bad has come of it. My daughter has not fallen ill due to poor hygiene and my son eventually got to sleep. All is well and I have discovered a measure of peace and freedom that comes from giving up micromanagement.
Another perk: La Leche League faithfuls please forgive me, but the responsibility of nursing my five-month-old son fell from my shoulders and I reveled in it - I reveled in the bottle! My husband fed him, my Little Beauty was delighted to feed him, and he was fine with it. I am still nursing him at about every other feeding, but I feel that this episode has given me the chance to wean him. Bring on the sexy bras!!!
Did you catch the part where I said I've spent the last two days in bed? A miracle for a mother. When we arrived home from the dental office my husband parked me in bed, popped in one my favorite movies, The Big Lebowski (and if you've seen The Big Lebowski you'd know it's well suited to vicodin-laden viewing) and then hauled the kids off to the park. Normally when he takes the kids anywhere I tackle the chores that are otherwise impossible with kidlets underfoot.
Another perk: I couldn't talk, at least not with any volume or clarity due to the wads of gauze in each cheek, the dryness of my throat and the numbness of my entire lower face. So what was the perk? Well, when I felt the compulsion to control coming over me, I was simply unable to give commands. I had to let go. I had to forgo asking my daughter is she wiped, flushed and washed after each visit to the potty. I couldn't raise my voice over my screaming son's to tell my husband to rock him not bounce him. My voicelessness forced me to relinquish my control over the minute workings of our family - and no bad has come of it. My daughter has not fallen ill due to poor hygiene and my son eventually got to sleep. All is well and I have discovered a measure of peace and freedom that comes from giving up micromanagement.
Another perk: La Leche League faithfuls please forgive me, but the responsibility of nursing my five-month-old son fell from my shoulders and I reveled in it - I reveled in the bottle! My husband fed him, my Little Beauty was delighted to feed him, and he was fine with it. I am still nursing him at about every other feeding, but I feel that this episode has given me the chance to wean him. Bring on the sexy bras!!!
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