A moment for ourselves: time to slow down

Take a moment for yourself today. Hit the pause button on life for a few ticks of the clock. Think of a word, an adjective. Think of a descriptive, calm word.

For me, that word is deep.

I only have a moment to steal for myself, so this word is a good one. 

Deep breaths in and out.

Deep thoughts.

Deep... in cool cotton sheets of my bed. That's where I want to be. 

The last few weeks have created an intense pressure inside of my brain. Rarely do I have a single  moment of peace. Days are seemingly endless chains of child care, toddler tantrums, snack prep, meal service, and mess clean-up, intermingled with fast email responses via my phone or sneaky segments of time at the computer while the little one watches "Melmo" (Elmo). Work has demands and family members have demands and my phone dings with messages all day; it's not very often than I acknowledge my own demands. Sometimes I feel deeply abused. 

Even nights are interrupted by a toddler who, in the midst of his own stressful transition to daycare, often cries out in his sleep from utter exhaustion. I am Mom, therefore I snap awake to his sounds. More often than not, he settles himself within seconds. Sometimes he needs a simple pat-on-the-back of reassurance that Mommy is still at home. The house is quickly silent again but, alas, my brain was switched on by his cry and cannot resettle. I am always deeply tired. 

I can picture myself deep in the comfort of my bed. Deep in the darkness of the night. Hopefully, deep within a colorful - yet restful - dream. Maybe one where I am deeply happy and deeply pampered. 

Work beckons and so do the kids, but I will remember this simple task. Taking a moment, even if it is simply 60 seconds, to just... stop. And breathe. And think. It can really help to surpass hurdles or break out of a rut. It can give me a little boost to keep on going. 

Sometimes life tries to run away with us. I have to get better at telling it no. 

Even if it's just for a minute.

What's your word today? 

Shhh... Mommy is hiding

I am hiding in my bedroom right now. I dare not make a peep, for you are finally settling down in your own room nearby. You tested me well today, little one.

I am hiding now. Shhhh, don't tell. Close your eyes and drift to sleep. 

I am hiding from the sticky dishes that await in the sink downstairs

...from the scattered crumbs under the table

...from an unfinished project sitting in limbo on my hibernating PC

...from my cell phone that sits downstairs

I am also hiding, in a way, from your Daddy and sister outside. I could go out and play, but I just want to hide. Savoring silence. I am hanging on to the only free moment I have managed to grasp today.

It is quiet in here now that you have assumed your sleeping position: face to the side, little rear end up in the air, one arm clutching a favorite blanket, your body smooshed into the corner of the crib. Yesterday was a big day of playtime and today was a first attempt at consolidating to one nap. You worked me hard today, baby boy, but Mommy understands. You are tired. I am too.

Any moment now, the door will open downstairs and sister and Daddy will enter. I will move from my quiet spot in my room to help them with whatever they may need. I will swiftly switch on the Mommy mode. I will sweep up the grass they trail in from the yard and clank tonight's dishes into the dishwasher. I will select Amelia's green clothes for St. Patrick's day and urge her along as she completes her usual bedtime routine with inevitable stalling. We will prepare for another busy day to arrive when the sun rises again.

I have a few fleeting moments left to hide from whatever, whomever it is that calls for me. So I pause. And I breathe. I watch your little bottom on the video monitor. I feel stillness and listen to silence.

It is good that a mother can recharge quickly, because it's time to assume the role again. The other pieces of my heart have come back indoors. I have mere seconds until I hear, "Mom! Where are you?"

three...
two....
one....

So of course, I reply. "Yes, I'm coming!"

 

Dear Daddy, Mom's not in a good mood.

There was a super-secret note passed to Daddy upon his return home from work this evening. It seems our daughter is quite smart; she insisted on giving him a heads-up.

The note pretty much sums up how Thursday went.

(Edited for spelling and punctuation. And FYI, Andrew got hurt because he fell; I didn't injure him!) 

Dear Daddy,

Mom's not in a good mood. 

First, she thought it was her fault she hurt Andrew.

Second, she put Andrew to bed, and as she was working the pizza guy came.

 

He rang the doorbell.

Third, she got a tummy ache by eating the pizza.

As you can see, she is very stressed.

Fourth of all, she had to drive to the city.

Sorry to Mommy!

From, Amelia

TGIF - thank goodness it is Friday for sure!

15 minutes for Mom

I admit, I have forgotten most of what it is like to have a newborn. I am worried about handling two kids when the little guy is born. I am especially not looking forward to sleepless nights, constant feedings, and diapers.

But this time around, I will depend on knowledge that, surely, will surface again. I vow to be less frantic, less confused, less stressed. Most importantly, I know how crucial it is for busy moms to take time out for themselves - and I will do that. If "me" time isn't there, I do not think I will survive the first year as a mom of two.

I was recently introduced to the Graco Little Lounger; it is a rocking seat and a vibrating lounger in one.

Dry! Now there's a good idea

I am a "stresser". I get stressed. And when I stress, I sweat. As a teen, I felt completely embarrassed by this on more than one occasion. I remember stuffing tissues in the armpits of my shirt and unfortunately, I also remember the tissue falling out at an inopportune time. Not cool.

I have tried just about any brand on the market in my battle against stress sweat - even men's products! I now use the Clinical Strength antiperspirants on the market and really like them. However, I don't like their prices. Eight bucks hurts a bit when all the other products on the shelf are half the price.

It's OK to slow down

 
"Nature is never in a hurry, yet everything gets accomplished." -Lao Tzu

I seriously cannot believe it is not yet December. It seems like we have had holiday to-dos and events for weeks already! Tis the season for purchases, events, school plays, parties.... never ending "do this" and "don't forget that". Throw in a surgery for my little girl next week, and I am a frazzled mess!

Too hard to let go

When we are in the "ups", the little things shape our world.
Smiles. Crayon drawings. Laughter. Music.

When we are in the "downs", the fog rolls in to cloud our minds and stifle our hearts.
What ifs. Worries. Guilt.

Only parents can understand the power of parental guilt, the heart-squeezing fear of doing something utterly wrong. When rational thought attempts to break through the clouds to let in some light, the guilt can smack it back with tremendous force. I believe there is no greater power on the face of this earth.

Humongous golden trophy

I work outside the home a few hours per week and squeeze in the rest whenever I can, usually from the couch downstairs. So yes, I have a "job"; I am a working mama.

I also have this mothering job. The job that takes precedence in my life no matter what. The job that is physically and mentally demanding. The job that allows for no personal privacy whatsoever, but has the uncanny ability to create a most dreadful sense of isolation at the very same time. The job where my "boss" lives with me, eats with me, and goes on vacation with me. The job where I have absolutely no option to walk away or search the listings on Monster.com. I know I am in this career for the long haul.

A promise

Three and a half months ago, I looked into her sweet face and made a promise.

"I promise, everything is going to be okay. We're going to make your eyes better."

We took her into her first eye muscle surgery before the sun came up on January 12th. The procedure itself went okay, but the stress was hard to handle. The following days and weeks were even worse. We waited and hoped, but her eyes looked wrong. Worse than before. She complained of double vision, told us her eyes were "sick". All we could do was wait and try to push away the bad thoughts that we did this to her.

Even though this was a minor medical issue compared to all those "what ifs" in life, nothing I have ever experienced feels worse than thinking I screwed up my beautiful daughter. My husband and I were on edge, bickering. Stressing each other out. I was not sleeping. One good positive day was often followed by two days of near-paralyzing worry.

I promised her it would be okay.

Finally, eight weeks after surgery and after many follow up doctor visits, we were told that a second surgery would be needed. The plan was to put the muscles moved in surgery #1 back to where they were - and move a different muscle. And we were told it had to be done quickly - within a few weeks.

The guilt I felt was tremendous when we had to tell her she'd be going through surgery again. I was afraid to promise again. But on March 29th, we pulled her out of bed once again and made the trek to the Children's outpatient surgery center. Surgery went as planned again. Recovery was much worse than last time. She slept all day, cried when awake, and vomited at night. She woke in the morning terrified because swelling prevented her from opening her eyes. I was still afraid to make any promises.

Yesterday morning, we had her 3-week post-surgery check. The appointment took all of 10 minutes. She looks great! No more squinting, no more closing an eye, no more tucking her chin down to see straight. No more "moving eyes".

She looks great. She feels great. She is happy that we don't have to go to the doctor again for almost three months. I took a huge breath. I think maybe I've been holding it for months.

It took a while, but I kept my promise to my girl.
Her eyes are better. Everything is finally okay.

Writer's Workshop prompt this week: A promise.

Going under again

My little girl is having her second eye surgery this morning. She knows the process this time, and she is not happy about it. She has already told me that she will not wear the gown... that she will not swallow the yucky medicine... that she will not be a good girl this time.

I feel for her. I don't want her to have to do any of those things, either. But I want to see her eyes, both of them, looking at me again. I want to know that she won't suffer teasing or migraines or frustration due to her eyes.

I just want it all to be okay again.

Surgery is scheduled for around 10:00 a.m. Wish us luck... again.

I know I am praying - again - for the absolute best results this time.

We will know in about three weeks if we achieved success. Another very long three weeks.

When you have to let go

“Making the decision to have a child - It's momentous.

It is to decide forever to have your heart go

walking around outside your body.”- Elizabeth Stone

Sometimes, you have to let go of your baby. Every now and then, you have to release the protective grip and put your heart and soul into someone else's hands. You have to trust.

My sweet girl is having eye surgery tomorrow. A supposedly "minor" procedure that should take only about 30 minutes. I have several friends who have had much younger children in surgery, and more major surgeries at that. I know it will be okay. I understand that I am blessed with a healthy child. We simply need to fix an eye issue that could lead to vision troubles and teasing as she gets older. We are not battling cancer, heart problems, or any serious internal problems.

But I am still scared. Worried about my baby going under anesthesia. Concerned with her feelings, her level of understanding. Heartbroken that she may wake up in a room she does not recognize, calling for me. Nervous about her level of pain and how soon she will be able to play again.

I cannot wait for tomorrow to be over. I want to be on the recovery side. This date has been looming on the calendar for a month, and my heart has been palpitating more and more.

Her baby blues are amazing.

Send us happy thoughts and prayers, please.

Lookin' Good! New hair & a new vlog

A new vlog!
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Fight. Fear. Guilt.

My pounding head could not withstand another moment of whining. My patience was stretched too thin, like a rubber band about sting my skin with a sudden snap. The pressure expanded in my chest; was I nearing a heart attack at age 32?



It was fall. 2010.

I was in the midst of my worst mommy moment.



Amelia was nearing 2 1/2 years old. She was having difficulty dealing with boundaries, rules. She could likely feel the stress that entered our household earlier that summer when her aunt had a bad accident and became paralyzed. Our summer was full of concerned houseguests, hospital visits, long weekend days at the rehab center. Amelia was placed in front of a movie a few times too many. She was brushed aside more often than she would like.

My daughter lashed out in anger when things didn't go her way. Rage erupted from her small body and discharged through her hands, fingernails, and teeth. I was afraid of her.

I cried. I worried. Did I do something terribly wrong to create such a monster? I had physical bruises and scratches. I was abused by my own young child.

Finally, my patience could take no more. My stress level was through the roof. One additional outburst from Amelia, and I lost my cool. I yelled. I spanked. I dumped her in her room. As she tried to escape to dig those little claws near my skin, I pushed her back. I pushed her with more force than intended. She fell backward into her room. For a moment, her rage ceased. She looked up at me with those big blue eyes, and I saw the hurt. I felt her fear. I had lost my grip on the calm Mommy voice. I let my stress level go too far. I frightened my child.

Serenity now!

The Serenity Now - a great Seinfeld episode.



Also something I feel like screaming to the world these days.

I'm eyeing that lonely little cave again. The cave I want to crawl into. Where I can sleep for 6 days. I can get up when I want to. I can do what I want to. I can move how I want to.

I'm coming to terms with a realization about myself.

I am fake.

I'm as real as can be on my blog (that's why I love it so much). But in real life, in day-to-day work my butt off life, I do what I "should" do. I do what looks the best.

I clean the house like a mad woman when people are coming over - even though in real life, I don't really care if there are a few crumbs on the floor. I fly through a work project until I make myself nauseous just so I can be finished FAST. I check my hair and face before playing outside in gazillion-degree temperatures, just in case I see someone. God forbid I ever look like a frazzled mom of a 2-year-old diva.

When do I do something just because I want to? When Amelia is around, she tells me where to sit, what to play, when to play, how to come down the stairs, what to fetch her for snack. I can't do anything MY way. I can't even pee without her close supervision. Maybe it's my fault for letting her dictate so many things. But I'm too tired to fight more tantrums when I really can wait to take my turn on the stairs. Or hold it on the potty until Amelia is settled on her stepstool to observe. These are little things, and I can do them. Just like I can do that extra favor for a friend. And take on that extra project at work. And drag myself to another play place because it makes Amelia happy.

But I'm ready for 2 minutes of ME. Me, me, me, me, me. I'm ready to take the "perfect mom" role and throw it out of a 10-story window. Why can't I just be flawed? Does anyone out there really care? No - I know they don't. I do this to myself.

Maybe tomorrow I'll keep my PJs on all day. Maybe I'll take a shower at noon. Maybe I'll take time for me.

Serenity now!!!!!! Serenity. Now.