Six years, three kids, a bajillion neuroses

Even though I could positively karate kick every single person who feels compelled to tell me that my baby doesn't look like much of a baby anymore, they're right. At some point in the last few weeks Emma Cheung morphed into the next version of herself. She's not two yet, but for all the whining and demanding and temper having and sheer personality getting thrown around, she might as well be. And it's as I suspected - there's a loud, assertive, charming little extrovert inside that kid and I admit it, I'm a little intimidated. 

I thought my other kids were full of personality at this age too, but I think they were personalities I understood a bit better. Maybe a little more like my own, or easily handled. I see a lot of myself in Jack, and Molly is a sweet, soft, delicious little spoonful of girly whipped cream. Or maybe it's because I'm familiar with them, I know what to expect, and Emma's self is suddenly exploding all over the house. Even Jack and Molly seemed stunned by the force at times, unthinkingly handing over a toy or snack, immediately giving in, yielding to the emotional noise that is their baby sister. 

Just this last week she's begun to choose walking - a drunken stumble, really - over scooting, and she's high on the experience. "LOOK AT ME!" her face says, as if she started walking at 9 months instead of 20. She talks. Constantly. Repeats everything we say. Yells it. And if she can't form the words she emits this awful mind-numbing "Eh-ehhhh!" until we figure out what she wants. She is sweet and darling and cuddly and loving until the instant she is not, and then she is furious, offended, indignant, and spilling white hot tears of HOW COULD YOU?!?!?!

And while she is still very clingy and attached to me, she has absolutely no fear diving (literally) into her siblings' games and toys and carefully structured pillow forts. Aren't all of these things here for her own amusement? Including the older siblings? Is not this entire house and everything within it simply existing for her own personal enjoyment? 

I feel sorry for my kids sometimes, having as they do a mother obsessed with Myers-Briggs and enneagrams and birth order and various other personality theories and assessments. I don't WANT to assign them traits and characteristics before they can pronounce "enneagram" but dudes, if Emma Cheung doesn't have YOUNGEST CHILD oozing out of every pore. I see it in action every day. She studies Jack and Molly, she takes note of what gets a laugh, and she'll do those things over and over again. She REMEMBERS those things, weeks and weeks after they happen. I'm afraid she'll be playing "steal Mommy's napkin" for laughs until she's thirty-five. Even at not quite two she's the ham in this family, though admittedly she doesn't have much competition. I fear for this child, growing up the lone noisy extrovert in a family of rule followers. But see - I'm doing it again. Who knows what she'll be like! Who knows what the other kids will be like! I don't blame her for capitalizing on being Super Cute Funny Baby Sister, a role I've often envied. 

I think of all the times growing up when I swore to myself that if I ever had kids I would be FAIR! And EQUAL! And I would remember how old the oldest was when she got to shave her legs and not even CONSIDER letting the youngest do it until she was AT LEAST the age the oldest WAS etc. etc. etc. But I cannot fathom a time when Emma won't be my BABY and so much younger than her siblings and therefore needing special treatment and attention. HORRIBLE! But even Jack and Molly fall into this line of thinking, getting irritated when people would try to get Emma to stand on her own and walk, taking over, protectively grabbing Emma's hands and barking, "SHE CAN'T WALK." 

How am I encouraging Jack in his "oldest" role and Emma in her "youngest"? How am I neglecting Molly as the "forgotten middle"? 

It is such a BIZARRE and AMAZING thing to have three brand new never-seen-before individuals living in your house. Where you're observing every minute detail, recording many of those details in a BLOG for heaven's sake. WHO ARE THEY? More importantly, HOW AM I SCREWING THEM UP? 

In which my sunny disposition has been mysteriously replaced with a Super Stellar Bad Attitude

You guys, I am stress-eating all the things. Right now it's watermelon, but earlier it was about five Fiber One Brownies in a row. I am getting LOTS of fiber, folks. 

I don't feel like I'm doing a good job in ANY area of my life right now and that's pretty much the worst feeling. Like Jack's birthday? I have pretty much taped his celebration together. I know the grandparents don't care. I know Jack certainly doesn't care. (I have a present, cake, and water balloons, so I think he's good to go.) But *I* care. I LIKE parties. I LIKE going out of my way. I LIKE making a big deal of things. I LIKE putting all the elements together. But for whatever reason I just do not have it in me to throw a color-coordinated heavily-themed shindig this year. I KNOW THIS IS OKAY. I AM STILL FRUSTRATED.

(Where Thirty Something Me has improved over Twenty Something Me is that she knows when to give up. See: yesterday's post where I decided in advance that Nothing Will Get Done On Babysitting Days. Or the moment I realized I could BUY something for Jack's class treat instead of making those Pinterest brownies that look like Legos.) 

I'm allowing too much TV and too much sugar. I'm a fairly useless wife. My house... just don't look too closely.The deck stairs thing is still not figured out. I have a million things to return and a million things to buy and I keep forgetting that stupid library book. Do I even know where that library book IS? My work ethic has mainly been directed towards my front yard (which is ALMOST looking awesome) and reading books that prevent me from making dinner on time. ...or any dinner at all.

(But WORTH IT. A hundred thumbs up for Eleanor & Park. Swoon.)

I know this is just a Feeling that will Pass, but man, it SUCKS in the meantime. Phillip worked from home today and when I returned from my various drop offs and shopping trips and gas filling I flounced into the office and brain-vomited all over him. "TOO MANY THINGS ON MY PLATE," I shouted at him, although I can't be sure, I was talking so fast I might not have been speaking English. 

When you're a Three (THERE SHE GOES AGAIN!) and you feel valued for what you DO, it is a stinky sucky feeling when you realize: hey, I'm doing a SHODDY JOB OF EVERYTHING.

 

A bunch of haphazard thoughts and worries about spoiling your kids

So right now I am trying to figure out what I think about going big on holidays, buying stuff for your kids when they don't need it, buying stuff for your kids for no reason, giving them treats, spoiling them. I think I'm trying to figure out if what I feel right now, and what I want to do for Easter, is Not So Great Parenting. 

See, I feel like I messed up Christmas. We didn't do an Advent calendar this year and I don't really know why, other than I was lazy. We didn't put tons of thought into gifts for our kids - I think I put more thought into gifts for my nieces and nephews than I did for my own kids. And Molly really truly wanted this Disney princess doll. She saw it when we were shopping for something else in the Disney store. It wasn't the Barbie kind, it was one of the "toddler" or "little girl" princesses and they were actually pretty cute and I honestly don't have much of a problem with Disney princess stuff. I asked the clerk if I could buy it without Molly noticing, but it didn't work out and I ended up not getting it. Instead I gave her a doll with a huge collection of handmade doll clothes. My grandmother had bought sixteen-inch dolls and made wardrobes for my sisters and my one girl cousin and me when we were all too old for dolls. I've had it for years and always thought I would give it to my daughter one day. This Christmas I thought: hey! I'll save my money! I'll give her something meaningful! It could be a Family Heirloom! It's not another Disney princess piece of crapola! This is better! 

You guys, it was not better. Molly liked the doll, but the clothes were too hard for her without my help. The clothes were more the kind of thing you and I would think are cute rather than a four-year-old girl. The doll itself was super cute, but not any more special than Molly's other dolls. Months later I still massively regret not buying her that stupid Disney princess doll. It wasn't super expensive. It wasn't inappropriate. It was the one thing she happened to really glom onto around Christmas time. WHY DIDN'T I JUST GET HER THE STUPID DOLL?

In my family Christmas is a big deal. So is Easter. My mom used to make us these huge Easter baskets and hide them around the house. We'd have big dinner or brunch with family and friends. Our outfits were super special. We got to sleep in CURLERS for Easter. When I found out that Phillip's family was barely registering Easter this year (and my parents were going to be out of town) I made sure to create our own Easter celebration. We'll have friends and food and an egg hunt. And I've been buying Easter basket fillers for weeks. WEEKS. I want the Easter bunny to knock their socks off this year. 

And yesterday? When Jack was sick and just Molly and I went to church? Afterwards I took her out to lunch at a restaurant she specifically requested, then we went to the mall and bought a [Disney princess, natch] necklace at Claire's because she's been dying for "kid jewels". No reason! No occasion! She wanted it and I wanted to give it to her. 

Half of me is "WHY NOT" and half of me is "oooh, this is NOT GOOD".

I don't feel like I spoil Jack. He's the oldest and I know I'm subconsciously harder on him (I'M THE OLDEST TOO, JACK. WE'LL CHAT ONE DAY!) He's never really been INTO a certain kind of toy or theme. And he goes to full day kindergarten. He's just not AROUND as much. 

But Molly, and Emma by virtue of being my SWEET WITTLE BABY... man. I'm sure a lot of you think I'm terrible for taking those girls out for coffee and pastries nearly every morning. Part of it is just what we have to DO, to manage the silly drop off schedule, but we'll do it even when we don't have school. I love going to coffee shops with them. I'm very much aware that Molly will be in full time kindergarten in just a few months and I CHERISH that time. I really honestly do. Should I let them eat chocolate croissants and cookies and chocolate chip muffins nearly every morning? That doesn't sound like a very concerned or involved or aware parent. AND YET. I am so happy to spend my cash on morning treats, so happy to have that little half hour of sweets. 

And they're only little for so long. There's only a few years when Christmas is THE BEST DAY EVER!!!! and Easter is super exciting and your birthday is a high holy day. (Okay, some of us still treat our birthdays as such.) Plus they have a mom who loves sugar, loves presents, loves parties, loves celebrations. 

But they also have a mom who wants them to learn the Reason For The Seasons (gag) and doesn't want to create spoiled little brats and wonders how much is too much indulging and cares what her stricter friends and family think. I don't feel like I SUPER indulge my kids. I am certainly not going around buying them every which thing, but I've been known to buy a superfluous pair of pink shoes, cookies when there are bagels, and we always hit up the Target dollar section. 

I don't know. I think I'm freaking out about both of my big kids going to school in the fall. They're, you know, a package deal. Once they're in school that's it. Life goes faster and they get bigger and the last thing Molly will want to do is go have a coffee with me before school. OH I FEEL SO SAD ABOUT THIS. 

Leaning in...to something a little different, I think

All this Marissa Mayer and Sheryl Sandberg stuff that's been going on the last month or so has been TOTALLY up my alley and I've read a million different takes (many of those hours spent deep within the Penelope Trunk vault (this was my favorite.)). 

But as someone who actively chooses to stay home and raise children, I don't feel like I have a lot (or anything?) to add to the debate. I don't have any opinions about it - I haven't tried to be a career mom or the Woman Who Has It All. so what do I know - but I do have THOUGHTS. Lots and lots of thoughts. 

Mainly my thoughts revolve around: what if I WAS working? What would that be like? Would I be happier? Would I feel more like I am doing what I am supposed to do? Have I lost out on something because I'm not pursuing a career? 

It's not that I feel "judged" or whatever for staying home, or that I've let the Sisterhood down somehow, or any of those dumb un-feminist things. I actually feel the opposite. But just knowing ME, the kind of person I am, the [vague, silly-ish] dreams I had as a teenager, my potential, my resources, being a Three, even being the oldest (I've started a BIRTH ORDER book you guys, there's your warning!) - did I make the best choice? 

There's no point in REALLY raking this over the coals, since I think I'm long past the point where I could easily change my mind. We have three kids now, I'm appalled at the cost of daycare, I'd basically be working to pay the daycare bill, and I haven't put any effort into looking for a career that would be WORTH working to pay the daycare bill (with the hope that eventually I'd move up.)

But I do wonder if that's where I missed out in the first place, the never finding a CAREER that suited me. Well, if I'm being honest, not really LOOKING for a career. It wasn't that I always planned to be a SAHM, I just... well, basically I wanted to earn enough money to travel. Not really Yahoo CEO material right there. 

Nearly all of my mom friends work, though, and nearly all of them do because they LIKE working and they LIKE their jobs and it adds a wonderful meaningful dimension to their lives. It's not just for the paycheck. Sometimes I feel like I should have worked harder to find that! For a long time I would say, "Oh, but I didn't like my job anyway" and my friend would say, "You never found the RIGHT job." 

And I'm smart, you know. Well, smart enough. I'm obnoxiously detail-oriented and organized, I'm driven, I love to learn, I follow through, I'm reliable, I get stuff done. I know I COULD succeed at a career, if I ever managed to pick one. I could be good at something other than folding laundry. 

Then again it's telling, isn't it? That a firstborn Three, a total gets-her-value-from-achievement DIDN'T pursue a career. At times I thought about getting a teaching certificate, pursuing a public policy path, there was my fling with web design. Ultimately nothing felt right. And for so long I've thought that's because the one thing I've always REALLY wanted to do was write. OBVS am supposed to be a writer! You can't get excited about doing PR for the chamber of commerce if you're REALLY supposed to be a middle grades rockstar author. 

Except now? I'm not even sure if THAT'S true anymore. In this last year I feel like I've lost a lot of my writing mojo. This is good because 1) I haven't written anything since I got pregnant with Emma and 2) I think there's a way that I made Be A Writer into an idol. As in, my parents will be the most proud of me if I become a published writer, my teachers will think the best of me, it's the biggest way to impress my friends, etc. etc. Is it really because *I* want to be a writer? (A Three has to ask herself these things. Pathetic, isn't it?)

I think I do. But I also think, right now, age 33.5, that I'm okay with NOT being a writer. Or at least not the next Lois Lowry, which was The Dream. I have never admitted that out loud before. I read about these women who apparently have it all, women changing the world, women making heaps of money, women working really super hard, women who get tons of respect and accolades and I wonder if I could be doing what they're doing, but I also feel like: but nooooo. I don't WANT to!

I actually quite like my life. I mean, as tired and done with parenting as I feel right now on Tuesday afternoon, I'm pretty sure I would not rather be sitting in the CEO office on the phone. And the ideas I have for my time are so NOT career- or profit-oriented ideas. I had to ALLOW myself to HAVE them, simply BECAUSE they so not about achieving success. Maybe adoption or fostering is in my future, maybe one day I'll go back to school to become a SPIRITUAL DIRECTOR! (Ha. The not-churchy people in my life are all "huh?" and the churchy people are all, "Ummmm, I don't quite think that's the right choice for you.") I have this kind of nutty idea to make my house a place of prayer once or twice a month, and that would COST me money because I'm thinking about hiring babysitters and feeding whoever shows up! I'm hoping to go to some conferences in the nearish future that would be "spiritual education", I guess, just for ME. I feel like THAT'S the direction I'm supposed to go. Even this bakery-with-my-sister idea (that I DO keep kicking around) comes from a place of wanting to do something fun that would fill a need in other people's lives - not entrepreneurial ambition. (Don't tell the bank when I ask for my loan.)

So I salute you, Sheryl Sandberg, and I think you kick major amounts of booty. But I don't share your picture of success - not your personal picture or the perspective you advocate. Lots of women do and more power to them, but for me it's been good to think about changing the world from a different sphere of influence. And to think about power as something I receive through the grace of God, not something I fight for in an office. 

When I was in college someone told me that they see a lot of women who take a back seat to their husband's career but then powerfully emerge on their own once the kids are mostly grown. Like it was this good thing that I could be happy about. At the time I was super offended by the mere IDEA that that's the lot women were stuck with. How UNFAIR! Now I think: that sounds good. That sounds really good. And I think the experience of being with these kids will inform whatever powerful thing I do in the future. And it WILL be powerful, even if I'm not wielding that power in a conference room or selling it on Amazon.com.

Perhaps I am even wielding a bit of power right now. ??? I do get to decide when certain people can eat their Curious George fruit snacks. 

 

Easter shoppy

Oh it's Help Me Pick Out What My Kids Should Wear For Easter time again! YOU = SOOOO EXCITED. 

But really, Christmas and Easter are really the only times I try HARD to dress my children in a particular way. I do most of their shopping a few times a year, sitting in front of my computer, glued to the Old Navy and Crazy8 sale pages, and then a giant box arrives and everything fits and looks cute and YAY, ALL DONE. But they keep growing! And Jack keeps wearing out the knees on his pants! And I have to keep buying things! And then storing the old things! THE CLOTHES ARE THE THING THAT WILL KILL ME, INTERNET!

But Christmas and Easter, yes, I spend more, think more, and possibly go a tiny bit crazy with the need for coordination. Do I want to dress the girls in the SAME dress or just dresses that are obvs from the same COLLECTION. How dressy is the boy? Do I buy a useless sweater vest for $25 that he will wear only once? Or use Easter as the time to buy a pair of khaki pants in the next size up and a nice button down shirt, the end. 

Anyway, I haven't been on the Mom ball recently. I am off my game. Several times this week I found myself wondering what I did with those kids all day before there was kindergarten and preschool. Wednesday Jack had early dismissal and I was practically beside myself the night before, wondering how we would spend our afternoon. I KNOW. PATHETIC. But I am super bad at just staying home with them - they expect me to do PROJECTS (aka ARTS AND CRAFTS) and that is just not my bag. I mean, sometimes it is? But not really? Oh, and I dug this science experiment kit out of the closet, I think someone gave it to them for Christmas? But all the parental SUPERVISION! BAH! Where are the projects where I just sit them down with the directions and they read it themselves and I - oh wait. FINE. 

Where was I going with this. OH YES. NOT HAVING PLANS. Okay, so instead of coming home after school and having a snack and watching TV and not doing homework, like usual, I hauled us to the mall to shop for Easter clothes AND take over the mall play area. (TANGENT: I haaaaaate taking Emma and the big kids to a playground, but the indoor mall area is GREAT because she can crawl around and pull herself up and YES it was sunny today but this was SO MUCH EASIER.) 

Okay, so I came home with the following option from Crazy8: 

For Emma:

OH WOW I LOVE THIS DRESS. It's, like, my perfect baby dress. There are SLEEVES! Eyelet lace! Baby pink! It's not super fancy or super beautiful, but it's CUTE and I just love it. HOWEVER. The matching big sister dress, seen here:

I love this one too, but it's PRICEY. Like $40 something dollars and I KNOW it will go on [a better] sale closer to Easter sooooo... I didn't buy it. I thought I'd just wait and SEE. In the meantime! I purchased the following Matching Sister Looks from Gymboree:

MOLLY:

EMMA:

With hot pink cardigans? SIGH. Now that I've put these pictures up I think I'm just going to wait for the pink one to get cheaper. I really like Gymboree's not-super-fancy dresses (the fancy ones are too fancy), but the odds of getting two coordinated dresses I like at a decent price are always small. Same at Crazy 8, except it's cheaper, so I usually end up there. 

As for JACK, I bought him a white and baby blue checked button down to wear with the khaki pants he wore to his aunt's wedding. Unless those are embarrassingly short, in which case I will purchase a NEW pair of khaki pants. How boring being a boy. 

Last year the girls wore hot pink jumpers with a FROG applique and Jack wore pants with EMBROIDERED FROGS and I was SO PLEASED with cute AND clever outfits. I didn't have a similar option this year, as far as I could tell. I restrained myself from buying the seersucker pants. (And matching cap. OMG.)

Sometimes I look at the giant piles of cuteness and wish I wasn't so lazy. It's not that I'm frugal (I am REALLY GOOD at spending money) and it's not that I'm above wanting my kids to look adorable at all times (I totally do), I'm just LAZY. It's WORK! Sometimes stuff is in the wash! Sometimes I have to iron it! Sometimes Molly makes a face about the cutest thing I picked out for her! MOST DAYS I DO NOT CARE. And poor Emma. Ask my friends - 90% of the time she's in her pajamas. WE'RE BUSY IN THE MORNINGS. 

But yeah, given unlimited wealth and a personal shopper AND a housemaid, my kids would look DANG cute. Heh. 

Are you planning Easter outfits? Just me? All right then. 

House of pestilence

I will preface this by saying: we almost never get sick, and we've never been really sick. I have yet to take a child to the ER. I think we've done the antibiotics thing once. So yeah, I don't have a ton of room to complain about The Night Everyone Was Barfing and The Day Everyone Stayed Home Sick. But I think I will anyway. THIS HAS BEEN THE BORINGEST DAY EVER.

Emma threw up twice on Monday morning, but we didn't think much of it. Because... I guess because we hardly ever get sick? And she seemed just fine afterwards? But late Tuesday night Molly started throwing up and Jack started in in the wee hours of Wednesday morning. Phillip and I were managing a barf, pee, drink of water, lost pacifier, or legs stuck in crib slats situation every hour on the hour last night. By four and five in the morning it was almost laughable. The way extremely unfunny things become comically distressing when you haven't slept. YOU KNOW.

Molly's just been tired most of the day, lounging around sipping her water bottle and demanding a twenty-fourth Busytown Mystery. Poor Jack got the worst of it and I was cleaning him up every hour until around one when he conked out in my bed and stayed that way until about five. Based on Emma's perfectly fine-ness and strong irritation with the absolute nothing that has gone on in her house all day, I'm expecting the kids to be fine tomorrow. I'll still keep Jack home from school, in accord with the 24 hour rule obvs, but I think the worst is over. 

Unless, of course, Phillip and I get it. 

I have been a hand washing FIEND today. I'm sort of the opposite of a germaphobe, which I know sounds extra super terrible, but I just don't think about it much and (see above) we hardly ever get sick. I don't really worry about what they're picking up from whom and all that, but I do NOT want to get sick right now. We have the kids scheduled to stay Friday and Saturday night with my mom and dad while we go to this retreat thingy over the weekend, where I'm supposed to be on another prayer team and Phillip is supposed to hang out with long time friends. BUT NOT IF WE GET SICK ON FRIDAY. 

Oh, and Phillip isn't home from work yet (it's 6:45) because he was trying to avoid traffic which means he isn't AROUND to catch the vomiting, which means just ME is going to get sick on Friday and MAYBE I AM A LITTLE BIT CRANKY ABOUT THIS.

Anyway, I've basically eaten handfuls of Kix for dinner and we're on our fifty-ninth episode of Busytown Mysteries and I have no plan for tomorrow and my house is a dump so I am sitting here, ogling the resort I've booked for our 10th wedding anniversary trip. Which is not happening until August. but one can wish her hours away until August, yes? No one is allowed to get sick in August.

Carpooling, kindergarten, fails at making school parent friends

I planned to do a big picture post tonight with my new! entry way walls and my new! shoe cabinet and my new! coat tree, but I'm too tired. SORRY, INTERNET! I know, the lack of forty-seven paragraphs detailing my Quest For The Perfect Entry Way Rug is a huge disappointment to you all. Next time. Pinky swear. 

I also considered describing my walk of shame back to Weight Watchers, but I am genuinely depressed about that, like, I don't even feel like trolling for sympathy and encouragement on my BLAWG, which means I'm REALLY SUPER DUPER DOWN ABOUT IT. Which is all we're going to say about THAT. Got it? FIN. 

So WHO KNOWS what is going to come out of my brain tonight! Oh wait. I was going to say something about carpooling. 

I was thinking about carpooling because today was one of the kindergarten then wait then preschool then come back home then back to preschool then an hour then go back to kindergarten then all come home and start dinner kind of days and DUUUUDES. It's not, you know, the WORST thing in the world, but it can be annoying at times and heinous at others. This week, I remembered, is FEBRUARY and I actually counted out the months until the kindergarten/preschool/baby thing is over. (Four and a half.) Then summer. Then a year in which both big kids are in school all day and I hardly know what to do with myself. EAT ALL THE BON BONS.

Oh, that reminds me. Someone was asking why we're going to put Molly in kindergarten next year even though her birthday is past the cut off date. So! The answer to that is several-fold. The first thing is that her birthday is ONE DAY past the cut off date. So I don't feel like I'm trying to get away with much. (You know me, rule follower and all that.) Another thing is that she's Child #2 and has seen kindergarten up close and personal for months now. Nearly every day her brother comes home from school and makes her PLAY kindergarten. She sits and does "homework" with him in the evenings. He's teaching her everything he's learning. When we're at the school, Molly blends in with the kindergartners. She and Jack are 15.5 months apart in age, and having them be two years apart in school seems bizarre. She may be my preschool dropout, but 4.5 year old Molly seems to have No Fear about kindergarten and when I tease her about keeping her home with me she does NOT have a sense of humor about it. I've asked her preschool teachers, Jack's teacher, and my personal crew of teachers and they all think Molly will be just fine. I have to apply for early entry in April, then have her tested in a group setting, then (if she passes that one) an individual assessment in the summer, then (if she passes that) a four-week "trial" in kindergarten in the fall. Though Jack's teacher tells me they never pull them out, even when they should. I'm not particularly anxious about it, it's just another pile of paperwork and appointments. 

The last thing, though, is that I'm not one of the Err On The Side Of Keeping Them Back parents. I think it depends on the kid, obvs. I feel confident about Molly, but if we were talking Jack I'm not sure what we'd be thinking right now. Also, I'm a mid-July birthday and was always one of the youngest in my class. This never once mattered in school, seriously, not that I can think of. The only thing that might have affected me was driving, but since I went to school on an overseas military base and you had to have a stateside license AND be eighteen, pretty much no one drove anyway. I got good grades and was "a leader" because that's the sort of irritating brownnoser personality I have, not because of (or in spite of) my age. And I swear to God, if I'd been another year older in high school? If I'd been turning 19 when I graduated instead of 18? I can't fathom the misery. (SORRY MOM!) I mean, I was just SO READY to go away to college and meet different people and live in a city and GROW UP. I'm not saying that Molly is just like me, and who knows what she'll be like when she's 17! But right now she's READY and it seems like crazy talk to hold her back. 

But I was going to talk about carpooling, right? Right. Okay, so CARPOOLING. Another thing you've said to me is, "Why don't you find someone to carpool with!" WHY DON'T I?!

I don't know, internet. It just hasn't been so easy. Ideally I would be friends with another preschool mom, or I'd have befriended the mom of the little girl that Molly seems to like best, but it hasn't worked out that way. For one thing I live WAY OUT OF THE WAY - no preschool family lives near me. I don't quite see what they'd get out of it, honestly. And the other preschool moms haven't exactly appeared to REQUIRE carpooling. As far as I can tell they have nowhere to go before or after preschool, they hang out and chat and even if I WANTED to do that with them, I have this BABY in the car whose nap is always getting jerked around. This is unfair - the other moms have younger and older kids too, but they really do seem to have it much more together than I do. They're not unfriendly, but they've developed some sort of relationship with each other while I've sat in my car waiting for the teachers to open the door. I'm FINE with this, but it hasn't really gained me any benefits either. Oh, and until last week, I was the only one who picked up her kid at 12:30 - all the other kids stayed that extra hour for lunch and more playtime. Emma's napping later now, so Molly's now staying that extra hour too, but carpooling definitely wouldn't have worked before. 

As for KINDERGARTEN... it's different and the same. Most kids either take the bus or go to the on site daycare after school. There are 4 or 5 moms in the hallway with me every afternoon, but none of them (of course) are parents of the kids that Jack talks about most (which would be THE GIRLS). A couple of them were even kids Jack didn't particularly like the first few months. So there was no ORGANIC way of striking up conversation. We small talk, but not much. And there's one mom who even seems to be annoyed by Molly and Emma and moves away from us if we're standing nearby. I KNOW. 

I guess I'm saying I've failed at making School Friends. I wasn't inclined to do so at preschool and I haven't been successful at kindergarten. I also haven't noticed another parent who looks like she could use a carpool friend. Actually, there is one mom at Jack's school who is also toting two smaller kids along each afternoon, but her son is in a different kindergarten and the one time I initiated with her it didn't really go anywhere. BLARGH. 

It's my own fault? I guess? It hasn't been easy. Molly's school is full of the chatty, involved, on site type of mom, Jack's school is not. I feel haggard when I'm at both places, just trying to get in and out as quick and efficiently as possible. I don't WANT to stick around and chat. I mean, I do, I just, well, YOU KNOW. 

So that is why 1) early kindergarten and 2) no carpool. Four and a half months, you guys. Four and a half months, then a few weeks of summer, then TWO KIDS IN SCHOOL UNTIL 3PM EVVVVVVERY DAAAAAAY.

Thoughts during an attempted afternoon nap

Today is a day when I don't feel capable of making dinner for my family, let alone figuring out how to open a kid-friendly bakery. Today is dark and gloomy and it's been raining all day. I've had to do drop offs and pick ups in the wet, standing alongside the van buckling and unbuckling, throwing cookies at whiny children in the back seats, turning off the radio because my brain is already too full, overloaded. 

The sort of day where 2:45 rolls around and I think to myself, "I don't want to go pick up Jack from school." I don't. I don't want to get coats and shoes, get the girls in the car, drive two minutes, get the girls out of the car, haul us into the school, wait around until the bell rings, bark at them on the way back to the car because OMG look where you're going and you don't need to stomp in every puddle and your side of the car is THAT side and how long can it possibly take you to climb into your car seat? 

My hands smell like diapers. 

I have to think of what to make for dinner, even though I made dinner LAST night and the night before that. And even when I don't make dinner I have to think of what to scrounge out of the freezer or the cupboard or what to order. It's gray and dreary and there's a baby howling in her crib and laughing-that-sounds-dangerously-close-to-crying downstairs and why can't I make all of this go away so I can lay down on the couch and close my eyes?

It's January. It's Monday. It's all sorts of terrible things. 

I feel angry at the baby. Part of why I'm not going in there to pick her up is because I'm afraid I won't be very nice to her. Just sleep. For the love of God, just sleep. 

I hate when I am PLANNING to get my kids a snack, even though they've been mean to each other and snotbrats to me, but they rush me all, "Mommy can we have a SNACK?!" and then I don't want to give them anything. Well maybe some nice heads of lettuce. A can of beans. I want them to LET me do something for them rather than this constant pelting of demands. Like they think I'm going to forget to feed them, that I just WON'T pick them up from school. 

I hate it when I've just snapped at them about something and three seconds later: "Can we have a snack?"

It is SO wearing, SO tired-making to be talked at and cried at and pelted with "But Mommy, I'm still hungry" because seriously, if you're so hungry you should have just EATEN YOUR DINNER so stop asking me for MORE THINGS THAT ARE NOT DINNER. 

I want to go on vacation, which is terrible because I just WENT on vacation. I want to see my friends. I want to parent WITH my friends. Who thought up this horrible stay at home mother situation anyway. Who thought this was a good idea? There's another mother on my street, but she works and hasn't initiated with me at all, even though I've initiated with her AND she seems to appreciate it; besides the one conversation we've had was about researching private schools and did I know where the good ones are and I'm probably not the sort of parent friend she wants anyway WHY I AM NOT LIVING IN THE BLOGGER COMMUNE? 

Phillip says, "It's nice when I get home and you want to, you know, hang out with us! Instead of focusing on your computer and getting away!" And God, I wish I could be that way every night, I really really do. Those are fun nights. I can wrestle with the kids and sing songs and cheerfully help with homework and clean up the kitchen, but they aren't all like that. Some nights I just don't want to hear anyone else talking. I don't want to hear anything. 

The baby is still sobbing. I should probably get her up. 

 

T-Three Hours

Three more hours until Phillip is home. 

I think... if this wasn't the end of all the travel insanity? I'd be out of my mind. Single parenting feels like the norm. Totally taking care of the house and making all the domesticky decisions on my own is the norm. Making decisions about the kids without consulting Phillip? The norm. Collapsing on the couch after I've put the kids to bed and dragging myself to bed ten minutes later? Very much the norm. I am actually worried about what it will be like to live together again. I hope that doesn't sound TOO dramatic, I mean, it's not like we're a military family and he's been deployed for 12 months. But I 1) most definitely did not sign up for this and 2) hate that it feels NORMAL! What will it be like to have that fifth person around again?! This is not the way I want things to be. I can't believe what the last three months have been like. If he wasn't quitting I'd be SO ANGRY.

Honestly, even if he wasn't starting a completely new job, the end would probably be near. A super huge project is going live, everything happens in Atlanta, and things keep getting pushed back, but still, next year if he were still working there, it most likely wouldn't be travel at this level. At least he has a job. At least I get to do what I want to do. I didn't have to go to New Orleans for five days. Get over yourself, Self.

But that's what we've been telling ourselves for a while now, that this is just a little aberration and things will even out an go back to normal. Except: this IS the new normal. I was talking to Liz last night and she said something like "you just went straight from grad school to business trips" and I was all YEAH I DID! I don't want to throw myself a huge pity party here or anything, but I usually err on the side of Not Acknowledging When Things Have Been Crazy And/Or Hard and it's GOOD for me to say: Dude. This has been mildly unpleasant.

That said... Maybe it was the five days away with internet friends, maybe it was knowing that the end is near, maybe it was God giving me a little badly needed grace, maybe I just tried to be a grown up for once, but I've been surprised at how easy the last two weeks have been. Even the last two days, with Jack at home instead of in kindergarten - I'm really having FUN with these kids. Sure, they're still bickering and making giant messes and wanting three meals a day, but I've, like, PLAYED with them. We've made a serious amount of cookies.* We've read stories and made crafts and you guys I HATE doing crafts. We've laughed a LOT. We've had FUN. 

And wow, I love my husband. I mean, that's sort of required. But in the same way I've sort of been kept from freaking out on him, I feel like he's been kept from stressing out on me and needing more than I feel like I can give. I came home from NOLA talking about all the people I was going to visit - on my own, for days at a time, with money in our savings account - and he was all, "Yeah, you really should do that." He's the one who told me I should go volunteer for a week at this crazy missions conference in St. Louis. I just feel so lucky.

I did not start this post thinking, "I will write about what I'm thankful for!" But it appears that I did. I'm thankful for my 100%-supportive-of-my-extracurriculars husband. My silly kids. My sweet baby. Our filthy house and Jack's school and two sets of grandparents who never say no to watching our kids. 

His last day is tomorrow. There's a bottle of champagne in the fridge for when he gets home. I may decide he needs to take me shopping for diamonds in the evening, as thanks for my wifely sacrifices. Or maybe we'll just watch four straight episodes of Homeland, go to bed early, and enjoy having to do absolutely nothing for Thanksgiving at his parents' house. 

I am REALLY thankful I have this place to write it all out, and continually yet happily mystified that people read it. 

 

*Peppermint Wreaths
Chocolate Crinkles
Easy Toffee Bars
Cranberry Bliss Bars
English Jam Bars
Red & Green Thumbprints
Salted Caramel Thumbprints
Sugar Cookies (not yet decorated)
and 
Fudge 

What I love best is the way she squeezes a blueberry in her fist and flings the mess across the kitchen

Always in the back of my mind I am remembering, somewhere, that my mother had five children under the age of five. My youngest sister was born about three weeks before my fifth birthday. In case you're having trouble picturing it, that's a four-year-old, a three-year-old, a two-year-old, a one-year-old, and a NEWBORN, all at once. 

And it's true, my memory of that time isn't exactly good (or existent) and even if I did remember it would all be from a child's perspective and therefore useless to me now. Still, my mom is incredibly able, terrifically creative, with heaps of ingenuity and an ability to let things go that I didn't seem to inherit. And always, in the back of my mind, I know that I compare what I do now to what my mom did then and so often I find myself lacking. I only have three! And there are just so many things that I can't seem to get done. (That's totally unfair to my mom, by the way, who is my biggest supporter parenting-wise and never makes me feel like I'm doing a poor job. This is ALL me.)

It's Emma's birthday today. It's been a whole year of the unsleepingest yet happiest baby ever, and a whole year of feeling monumentally incapable. She even woke up in the night, about 12:15 which is almost exactly when my water broke a year ago. I couldn't go back to sleep, just laid there thinking about what that was like, what happened, how it felt, what I was thinking, how I had absolutely no idea what would happen in the following three hours. That's when it started: I couldn't even give birth right. 

As the world has shifted a bit this month, with the start of school and this rigid schedule, I've been thinking about the last year and what I've learned, even how I've maybe changed, and it seems to be the year where God asked, "What would it be like if you couldn't do it all?"

I mentioned this to a friend tonight and she snorted - the last time she saw me I had a baby on my hip, I was making scones and homemade bread, setting the table for Molly's birthday party, and fixing the big kids' lunch at the same time. She doesn't have any kids and I know, to her, I look like SuperMom. And you know, sometimes I am. But I know I'm not SuperMom, I'm just the sort of person who is determined to do all the things I want to do. I'm just going to find a way. I will build the Blathering website during the month that Emma wakes up every hour, every night. I will throw a Christmas party in the middle of my most anxious season. I will lose 35 pounds before my 30th birthday. I will arrange every moving detail, and pack our entire house by myself, while pregnant and solo parenting. 

And this year feels like the year I [slowly] said to myself, "Well... actually maybe you shouldn't try to run every day." Maybe I shouldn't have another party right now. Maybe I shouldn't join that group. Maybe it's okay not to write on my website every day. Maybe I don't have to make a spectacular cake for EJ's birthday party. Maybe I can just give those jeans away instead of hating myself for not fitting into them. Maybe it's okay to take naps. 

So say God asked me that question months and months ago. For the longest time I've ignored it. I've denied it. I've fought it, big time, kicking and screaming the entire way. Until... now? Maybe a few weeks ago? Maybe when I started driving everyone to school? There's a way where I realized that this schedule is the new normal, and no we're not used to it yet, but I already see how limiting it is and how it divides my day into often inconvenient chunks. I already know that I can do just one thing on preschool days, maybe two things on no preschool days. 

It feels like God is questioning this thing about myself that I don't want to let go of. Like he's questioning something so me that it's my identity. Being responsible, reliable, dependable, determined, committed, capable - all good stuff. What's wrong with being those things? I won't give them up. I won't not be those things. 

Except... there is a way that being those things... I don't know. Instead of being someone who can be described with those words, I tell myself I AM those words. That is all of me. That is who I am. If I am not those words I am... no one. 

Will God love me more if I lose all the baby weight? If I make a beautiful birthday cake? If I throw the best Christmas party? If I do two more loads of laundry instead of napping? If I write the best blog posts? 

Emma is an entire year old today, and only now, just now am I beginning to hear what he's really saying. Getting it all done, accomplishing everything, remembering everything, doing all the things I want to be able to do, being a good wife and mother and friend by doing things and doing them well... that's not WHY he loves me. So if I don't get it all done, if I mess it up, if I forget, if I fail, he doesn't love me less.

My sweet adorable birthday baby, she does nothing. Nothing! Some days she won't even deign to feed herself to put her own chunk of pear in her own mouth. She doesn't crawl or cruise or walk, she doesn't speak, she doesn't do any work or produce anything, and the only thing she gives back is her happy face. And yet there is no way I could love her more. I don't need her to be anything except exactly who she is: my beautiful perfect daughter.