Good Enough Mom

Mom Freedom Haikus

2011-08-10T22:26:00.006-04:00

Going to L. A.
To spend time with a dear friend.
Drink. Shop. Eat salad.
----
Missing my old self,
I reconnect with old pals,
And then I feel young.
---
Time apart from kids
Is so rejuvenating
And yet I miss them.
---
I was me back then...
And I find I am still me...
Enhanced. With two sons.

:)

Neglect?

2011-07-06T21:04:00.000-04:00

Lately I have felt like I have not had nearly enough time for my kids. My workload has increased, so my work hours have increased. When time opens up in my schedule, it gets filled instantly--it evaporates before I even know I have it. So, extra time that could go to my kids doesn't seem to make it there. And I am full of maternal guilt and self-recrimination about that.

Recently, I have heard stories about parents who seriously neglect their children. One, sadly, is my sister-in-law, who keeps having horrendous fights with her teenage son. At the root of these fights is the fact that she repeatedly rejects him. And this has been the case for many years. And I can't imagine how enraged this has made him. But she will not look at her own behavior and shift it. Instead, the fighting goes on, and now she says she is "throwing in the towel." On. Her. Own. Kid.

Another example comes from a movie I watched last night, "The Nanny Diaries." I got it out of the library. The librarian told me she loved the movie. OMG. Not me. I HATED HATED HATED it. Seriously. The movie made me feel sick and horrible. If you haven't seen it (don't bother), it's about a nanny who forms a bond with a severely neglected (albeit financially privileged) child. The movie is supposed to be a comical portrayal of rich families in which the parents are so self-absorbed that they have no time for their children. But. It. Wasn't. Funny. The little boy in the movie had absolutely no one looking out for him emotionally. He was treated like an accessory and a conversation piece. He did not exist as a person, except to his nanny, who was eventually fired and forced to leave him precipitously. There was a heartwrenching scene where the boy runs crying after her cab, as she is driven away.

I almost puked. For real.

(This is depressing, I know. Bear with me.)

But, the good thing is that these horror stories remind me constantly how much I treasure my time with my children. And how, even when I'm busy, I am not neglecting or rejecting them. Last night, my husband told me the story of his sister and our nephew while we were out at dinner with our boys. I listened with disgust (at my SIL) and compassion (for my nephew) while my kids jumped in and out of my lap, ordered dessert, joked and laughed, and stroked my hair. While they told me I was their "favorite mommy" and said over and over again that they loved me.

And this morning, after feeling sick half of the night in the aftermath of the nanny movie trauma, my sons created a pretend "hair salon" and spent quite a while styling my early-morning, I-just-woke-up hair. While we laughed together.

I know this is the theme of so many of my blogs...but that is because I think constantly about this discrepancy between how poorly I feel like I perform as a mother...and the reality that I am actually doing a "good enough" job. I am so grateful to my kids for reminding me, again and again, that they are OK. That my distractions and stress and even depressions are not wrecking them. That they are thriving, even at times when I feel like I am not giving them enough of myself.

And...well...PHEW! (so far, any how...)

And a note to my boys: please let me know as well as you can when I'm NOT measuring up. Because I promise I will shift and change and grow to be a better parent to you. Always.

Sometimes I Think This World is Crazy

2011-07-05T16:23:00.003-04:00

Sometimes I think this world is crazy.

At these times, when everything and everyone (myself included) seems out-of-control, I long to be with my kids. Because they have it right. They laugh when they're happy. They cry when they're sad. They stomp when they're angry. They don't intentionally manipulate or play mind games. They say what they mean and mean what they say. And they're just totally straightforward about who they are and what they want. They, at ages 4 and 7, know what it means to be human. They know how to treat other people kindly while valuing and remaining true to themselves.

I have to say that I wish I were more like them. And the rest of this (crazy) world, too. I wish we could all be more like my boys.

Lucky for me, I get to spend time with these sage little buddhas every. single. day.

Ahhh....

(Maybe one day they'll teach me a thing or two!)

Kids For Sale?

2011-06-16T14:22:00.006-04:00

I get most of my emails these days through my iPhone. In case you're not familiar with iPhone e-mails, you can opt to have a brief preview of each e-mail show up in your inbox. The preview is formatted like this:

RETURN ADDRESS
SUBJECT LINE
FIRST LINE OF TEXT
SECOND LINE OF TEXT

The other day, I opened my inbox and saw this e-mail preview (from a local parents listserve that I am on):

From: SENDER'S NAME
Subj: 2 CUTE KIDS...
Msg: $5. Interested? Email me and I will send
you a picture.

It had been a bad mommy day. So, I read this and instantly thought:

"Wow! This mom has had an even worse day than I've had... Hers has been so bad, in fact, that she's selling both of her kids for $5 (that's, $2.50 each). Thank god I haven't yet sunk that low! Ha!"

(Insert maniacal laughter here.)

Then I opened the e-mail...and I saw that she was selling 2 cute kids CHAIRS.

The Girl Mom with the Flower Tattoo

2011-06-08T21:56:00.007-04:00

I got a tattoo when I was 22 years old. Of a tiny pink 5-petal flower. In the (formerly) concave area on my right hip. Easily hidden under even the skimpiest of underwear. What a rebel I was--me with my hidden tattoo!

At the time when I got it, I thought that my right hip was a sexy spot for a tattoo.

Of course, what would become of this tattoo during and after pregnancy was nowhere on my radar screen.

Having a tattoo on my hip felt like a dirty little secret. Like wearing ultra lacy underwear that no one could see but me. (I am laughing HYSTERICALLY as I write this...because it's true that I thought this...and because it's so NOT DIRTY...I was pretty naive at 22!)

Anyhow, after two I-gained-50-pounds-each pregnancies, my tattoo is not as fresh and cute and tight and sexy as it used to be. It's been stretched and distorted, and even though my belly has shrunk back in its own way (IN ITS OWN WAY!), my tattoo has never fully recovered.

And yet, I still love my naive little pseudo-rebel tattoo.

It still feels like a secret. My secret. My former life. The "me" my kids will never know...

Shhh....

Dreams Don't Lie

2011-05-27T22:41:00.004-04:00

It seems like I dream the most in the early morning hours. Last night, I was up for a while at 3am for no good reason. I don't remember falling asleep again, but I do remember waking after this dream.

In the dream, I am at the house where I lived with my mother during my last 2 years of high school. I loved this house, and I often dream I am there. (She doesn't live there any more.)

Someone comes to tell me that my little boy, Tot-Tot (age 4) is outside. I look out the window and I see him. It's winter and he is wearing a short-sleeved shirt, with no coat. His face is red and tear-soaked. He has apparently walked a long way, alone in the cold, to find me.

The sight of him, cold and frightened, rips me apart. I rush to him and grab him eagerly up into my arms and he is instantly comforted. I awake with a jolt, yearning for him. And feeling deep gratitude that we are under the same roof.

He wakes soon after I do, and even though it is 5:45 a.m., I am thrilled to hear the sound of his small voice calling me from the next room. I swear, in that moment, that I will be a better mother. I will give him more of myself. I will make him my priority. I will treasure him. I will give him the attention he wants and deserves.

Because I can. And thank god for that.

All About Me

2011-04-13T22:03:00.004-04:00

We live in a narcissistic society.

And that includes me.

I hate to think that I am a narcissist. I don't want to believe that I am full of myself or that I have little room to consider the perspectives of others.

I actually don't know that other people would call me narcissistic. I kind of doubt it...

But sometimes I wonder just how much of our narcissistic society has seeped into me.

I wonder this when I catch myself having days like I've had this week...days when I am CONVINCED that I have it SO MUCH HARDER than everyone else...days when I am so full of SELF-PITY than I cannot even begin to appreciate the goodness of my life...days when no needs on the planet can possibly outweigh MINE.

This is the emotional place where I go when I am overwhelmed...when there is too much to do and too few resources. I start to take it personally, as though the universe has targeted me as its sole victim.

Boy. It's pathetic, isn't it?

This week's self-pity has looked something like this:

-I never have any time to eat a salad! Or even a vegetable! Or even a PIECE OF FRUIT! Woe is me!
(in another state-of-mind, I'd decide to take better care of myself...)

-I cannot keep up with buying groceries, yet, still, everyone in this house has to be FED. By ME. Why only by me??? I do not want to feed another living thing. EVER. AGAIN.
(in another state-of-mind, I'd say that grocery shopping is relaxing...)

-It's spring break season...so lots of families are going away...we are not going away (because vacationing is just not something we can manage...especially not with our MASSIVE TUITION bill)...and since everyone else is going on VACATION, they are asking ME to do their work for them while they are gone. Wait...you get to go on VACATION, and I, who am not going on VACATION, will stay here...and do your WORK for you?? So you can REST? While I add YOUR WORK to MY WORK? F*ck you.
(in another state-of-mind, this might not bother me so much...might not...)

-All of the organizational systems I have worked hard to create in our house have totally MELTED DOWN. Because I haven't been able to monitor them. And because (of course) no one else in this house can do it like I can...which is a massive BURDEN. It's hard to be SUPERIOR to everyone else. Then everything falls on you.
(in another state-of-mind, I'd laugh at my own perfectionism, ignore the piles, and go to sleep.)

-My older son has a motor learning problem called "dyspraxia." (google it) This means that, as fabulous as he is, he is messy. VERY VERY MESSY. And uncoordinated. And massively disorganized. And this drives me NUTS. And I love him and think he is probably the smartest, sweetest child who has ever walked the Earth. But I hate his dyspraxia. And I want it to GO AWAY. Or else I want him to GROW UP FASTER so I won't have to take care of him like he is a MUCH younger child.
(in another state-of-mind, I'd enjoy getting to care for him like I do...and I'd be grateful that dyspraxia is his only problem and that he has such a lovely disposition...)

-TAXES ARE DUE! WHY DO I HAVE TO PAY TAXES??? I MUST BE THE ONLY PERSON ON EARTH WHO HAS TO PAY TAXES!
(In another state-of-mind, I'd be glad we live in America.)

-My cat keeps puking all over the house. And meowing at night. I want to kill her.
(in another state-of-mind, I'd be grateful for the deep relaxation I get whenever I hear her purr.)

-My kid's private school has more days off than I can count! What are we supposed to do for childcare on these days? How can we pay tuition when we have to take time off of work when there's no school?? Doesn't the school get it that we have to WORK to be able to PAY? And WTF with that TWO-WEEK-LONG spring break this year???!?!?
(in another state-of-mind, I'd be grateful we manage to send our boys to good schools, where they get lots of individual attention and still have time for recess...)

-Life is just way too hard on young families! There is not enough support! Things move too fast. Cell phones and i phones and mobile me and e-mail floods are going to drown us and radiate our brains and give us cancer! (which we won't be able to stave off, since, remember, we never have time to eat FRUITS OR VEGETABLES.) WHERE IS THE SUPPORT FOR YOUNG FAMILIES IN THIS COUNTRY? Is everyone trying to kill us via stress and nutrition- deprivation? We need HELP raising the next generation. And we are not getting it. We are screwed as a society. We are going DOWNHILL. Ours will be the last decent generation (assuming that we even are a decent generation).
(in another state of mind, I'd feel proud of the amazing parenting my cohort is doing, in spite of the endless demands on them...somehow, they're managing and our kids are thriving...but I can't see that in this state-of-mind.)

-Every woman I know says she needs a wife. Everyone wants a woman to be attuned to them, to help them, to anticipate and to meet their needs... Do you know any man who has ever whined that he needs a husband?? (I actually said this to GEH yesterday. Good Lord.)
(in another state-of-mind, I'd be grateful for my kind, loving, devoted husband.)

Ahh...the narcissism of self-pity...woe is me is, clearly, all about me.

I hope I escape the vicious loop soon.

Sick Child Haikus

2011-03-28T14:19:00.005-04:00

My ear really hurts
So bad I can't sleep at night
Til my mommy comes
-----
Cough, sneeze, sniffle, wheeze
Call my mommy to my bed
Song, pat, head-rub, sleep
-----
We go to a show
So sick I can't stay awake
So I sleep on you
-----
I don't feel so good
So I whine and whine and whine
Please tolerate me
-----
:)

The Invisible Good Life

2011-03-27T21:42:00.005-04:00

My kids are having a way better childhood than my brother and I had.

Before having children, I never fully realized just how depressing my own upbringing was. It wasn't all-trauma-all-the-time, but it wasn't a bed of roses either. There was very little consistency in pretty much every area. Let me paint a brief picture. My parents went through a bitter divorce when I was a toddler and my brother was a preschooler. We lived with my mother, who moved pretty often--every 2 years on average--because, as a single mom, she had a hard time keeping a job (so she was also often broke). We visited my father, who lived a few hours away, every few weeks and we spent summers with him. My parents did not get along. My dad was more financially stable than my mom, but he drank too much and, although he could be tremendous fun, he could also be like living with a volcano--his temper would erupt unexpectedly. Each of my parents has been married and divorced several times. I honestly believe that they did the best they could raising us. This is actually not saying much, though, since I also see them as having a pretty limited capacity. (Please pardon my judgmentalness.)

When I look at the life GEH and I have made for our kids, I am amazed. We've been married for 10 years. We have lived in the same house since I was pregnant with our first son. We have a steady income. We have a clear plan for educating our children at the same school, where they can stay from k through 12 because we don't plan to move. There is always good food in our house. They heat is always on in the winter. The electricity bill gets paid monthly. There is minimal fighting. The friendships my sons are forming could potentially last throughout their lifetimes.

I'm not about to say that our life is perfect. And I am certainly not ever going to even suggest that I am perfect (because I am so flawed that it is not even funny!)...but I do love to pause and to reflect on my children's life. Because their life is good.

Watching them thrive in the world GEH and I have made for them is deeply healing. It's like through them, I get a chance to repair some of my own wounds from childhood. I get to do it better than my parents could. And my boys reap the rewards. And they don't even know it. And that (THAT!) is what makes it incredible.

Their life is so good that they can take it for granted. A men to that.

Poop: It's What's For Dinner

2011-02-28T21:12:00.003-05:00

My younger son, Tot-Tot, is totally obsessed with poo-poo. And pee-pee. And poo-poo and pee-pee.

He is a really verbal child. He started talking well before he was a year old. He has an extensive vocabulary. Self-expression is a true talent of his.

But you wouldn't know it.

Because, these days, it's all potty talk. All the time.

If you ask him how he's doing, he'll say, laughing: "POOPY IN YOUR UNDERPANTS!"

If you ask him what he wants for dinner, it's: "Poo-poo. And pee-pee." (And then he might add something about eating it until he gets so sick he dies. Oof.)

If you ask him to share a toy, he might respond: "I'm gonna poop all over your head!"

Behold the 3-year-old mind. (And he's turning 4 in 2 short weeks.)

My older son, Big Boy, never had a poop obsession. So even though potty talk seems totally age-appropriate, I didn't have to endure it with boy number one. Big Boy also had no problems with pooping on the potty, which has been an ongoing issue for Tot-Tot. TT is one of those preschoolers who will only poop in a pull-up. He wants to go standing up. In a corner. Often in the playroom. Or under a table. Sometimes in a restaurant. It's. So. Ew. But I try not to make a big deal of it. And he has agreed that when he is four, he will go on the potty.

God, I hope so.

And maybe...just maybe...then the endless potty talk will stop. Once the poop goes in the potty, maybe then he won't need to be so obsessed with it.

Maybe? (Please don't tell me this is just a boy thing.) (And that I will have to live with this.) (I am dreading the pre-teen years enough already.) (Thanks.)

Manifesting Mama

2011-02-23T21:36:00.004-05:00

A friend of mine recently sent me this link to an article about a woman who, for years, visualized winning the lottery for $112 million dollars. She pictured everything, down to the shirt she would be wearing.

Then she won the lottery. For $112 million. (While wearing the shirt.)

Although this story is pretty amazing, I can't say that I am 100% convinced that people have the ability to "manifest" their futures by their own faith and conviction. But, then again, I can't say I've ever tried it. Have you? Have you ever been completely convinced, beyond a doubt, that a particular future yearned-for event would happen? And then it did?

In spite of all my endless whining, complaining, and over-analyzing of everything, I have to say that my life is actually pretty f'n good. And I do believe that I got to this point in my life because of my own drive, determination, and will-power. I'd even say that at critical moments, I had premonition-like experiences (like I had a feeling, shortly before I met my husband, that I was on the verge of finding the right man for me...I started the break-up process with my boyfriend at the time based on that feeling...then I met my husband).

But I wouldn't go so far as to say that I have made the life I want by visualizing it. I would say, though, that I have generally believed in myself and that this faith has gotten me pretty far. Lately I have been struggling with having faith in myself and my abilities...and I have begun to wonder if the problem now is that I just don't know what I want for myself. What I would manifest if I had that power?

So, I would like to try it. I'd like to do a visualization experiment. Not to test the powers of the universe, but as an exercise in working through how I imagine my future.

The problem is that I have no idea what I actually want beyond what I already have. I don't know what I want the future to look like. Maybe it never occurred to me to visualize my life beyond this current point. I never imagined what would come after getting married, having children, and running a psychology practice. And now I have achieved all of that.

So what next?

Trusting Myself

2011-02-06T20:30:00.004-05:00

Wow. Really? May 10th? 2010? That was my last post?
Jesus.
What happened to me?
It's hard to say. Or, rather, it's hard to sum up. I guess the bottom line is that life has been kicking my ass...and I am finally starting to kick back.

One of my patients recently gave me a book called "Trusting Yourself."

I love it when people give me unexpected books...usually there is some important message in it for me. And when a patient gives me a book, it is even more meaningful--since they are often also handing me a piece of themselves.

What is especially cool about reading this book is that I can see why I needed to read it. For me. And for my patient. I'm learning about us both.

I am someone who has always felt self-assured. But recently--over the past few years I guess, and especially the past year--I have felt more self-doubt than before. Doubt about myself as a mother and a wife. Doubt about myself as a friend. Doubt about myself as a professional. Doubt about myself in just about any area... This kind of self-doubt can become toxic...it can lead to self-pity, which is something I hate, but often find great comfort in.

So the book, "Trusting Yourself," was a timely gift. Because, really, trusting ourselves is our main challenge in life. Trust that you know what is right for you. Trust that you have what it takes to get where you need to go. Trust that you will be ok. Trust that you are good, through-and-through. And when you fail, trust that you will learn and will do better the next time.

If we could trust ourselves, in all areas of our lives, just imagine how free we would feel. Trusting ourselves, and accepting ourselves where we are, without judgment. If you can do that for yourself, you will be able to do it for others too. And life will be better for everyone.

Where My Kids At?

2010-05-26T21:05:00.003-04:00

Have you seen this funny ad on youtube.com?:

Of all the hysterical Sienna video clips on youtube--this one is my favorite!

I've been trying to figure out what I like about it...here's what I've come up with:

-I can totally relate to the frustration of HOW LONG IT TAKES TO RAISE KIDS.

-I FREQUENTLY wish my kids would GROW UP and HELP OUT.

-I have a hard time playing with my kids...I have many "that's all I got" moments.

-It cracks me up that he's so bitter, talking about the gauntlet of children and toys when there's really not anything dangerous in his path...it just highlights the truth of how parenthood can feel HARDER than maybe it really is.

-I really appreciate all of this guys disavowed anger and frustration...he loves his kids, but the bitterness (ahh...the bitterness...) is ever-present.

-This clip captures the essence of how I (we?) often wish kids would be little adults...and, if we're honest with ourselves...we have to realize that the problem is not really the kids, but our own impatience and narcissism...and, believe me, I have it, too!

-And, really, it just sucks that kids mess with your stuff. Like when else in life do people get to mess with your stuff and you have to just TOLERATE IT?

-I also own a minivan...and I love it...although it decidedly does NOT make me feel like a hottie!

:)

Tot-Tot Gets Moral

2010-05-23T21:18:00.007-04:00

My husband desperately needed a break today, so I decided to take the kids out for a Sunday afternoon on my own. I actually love these kinds of outing with them; solo-parent-with-no-agenda afternoons rock. I let them pick where they wanted to go, and out-of-the-blue, my 3-year-old, Tot-Tot, decides that today is the day for his first-ever carousel ride. So, off to the mall we go...me and 2 happy, excited boys...and we buy TICKETS (tickets are apparently VERY exciting!) and hitch a ride...

And after 3 consecutive rides, I was completely queasy and convinced the kids to get an early dinner...

--skip to bedtime---

As I was putting Tot-Tot to bed tonight, he was full of questions about the merry-go-round. But he wasn't interested in things like the mechanics of it, like his older brother would have been at this age, he was interested in...the tickets! He asked me over-and-over-again about the tickets...it went something like this:

tt: Mommy, why do you need a ticket to go on the carousel?
me: to show that you paid for the ride
tt: you have to pay for the ride?
me: yes, the ticket shows that you paid for the ride
tt: but why do you have to pay?
me: because it costs money for them to run the carousel...so everyone has to pay for that
tt: but what if you got on the ride WITHOUT a ticket???
me: you can't get on the ride without a ticket
tt: (excited) but what if you DID?! What if you got on the ride anyhow, without a ticket??!?
me: then they would take you off of the ride, because you have to have a ticket
tt: (more excited) but what if you STILL GOT ON THE RIDE WITH NO TICKET?!?
me: you can't ride without a ticket, it's not allowed
tt: BUT WHAT IF A KID GETS ON THE RIDE WITH NO TICKET?????
me: (exasperated) Then you'd get a free ride. But it would be naughty.
tt: And then the POLICE WOULD COME! And they would TAKE YOU TO JAIL! And they would GO AWAY and LEAVE YOU THERE and you'd have to STAY IN JAIL!
me: Well, I don't know. If that happened mommy would come get you.
tt: So you should just get a ticket and not go to jail.
me: Right.

What would Kohlberg say?

SIX

2010-04-25T17:07:00.000-04:00

Dear Big Boy,
Six years ago, you came into the world purple and screaming. The first thought I remember having when you were handed to me was that you looked just like your dad! (And, of course, he thought you were VERY CUTE!) It was amazing to meet you, my tiny baby who had been kicking me from the inside and keeping me company for 40 weeks. To this day, your dad and I are astounded that you came from us. You have made the world a miraculous place.

As you turn six, I am in awe of you. You are so smart, so thoughtful, so considerate, and so PERSISTENT. You are incredibly kind with your little brother, and much of the time you are patient with him. Some of the things you say just amaze me, especially when you talk about PEACE (boy at school: "My plane shoots six bullets", You: "my plane shoots nothing that can hurt anyone!"), KINDNESS ("You should do to others what you want them to do to you. That is the golden rule. I like that rule."), SCHOLARSHIP ("When I am a man, I am going to be a scientist like daddy"), and YOURSELF ("Art is my talent. And also break dancing.").

One area where you struggle is with self-assertion, especially at school. (BELIEVE ME, you have NO TROUBLE with self-assertion at HOME!) It is hard for you to ask the teacher for help. When other kids bother or hurt you, you have trouble telling them to quit. You are sometimes shy with other children, although this year I have seen you emerging and engaging. When other kids greet you, your eyes brighten with pride. Those moments warm my heart more than any other.

Lately, you have begun to express your frustration in a new way: a primal SCREAM that is so loud it rattles the windows. When you are angry or can't immediately get your way, you shriek at the top of your lungs like an angry adolescent lion. It has been hard to know how to help you at these times, but we are getting the hang of it. Instead of stopping you, we join you, growling and grumbling about how ANGRY and FRUSTRATED we are. Sometimes this makes you laugh. Sometimes it makes you scream louder. (Which sometimes makes me scream louder, too!) As much as the screaming has surprised me, I am proud of it. I am proud of your emerging voice, your expression of feeling, your assertion of your anger. I hope this scream connects you to your own power because you will need it someday--and I know it is in there!

There are so many things that I want for you. I want you to have a warm, happy home. I want you to have a strong sense of pride. I want you to learn the joy of reading and writing. I want you to know you are loved at every moment (primal scream included). I wish I had a larger family to share with you, but I hope that what we give you is enough.

Happy Birthday!

Confessions of a Former Stay-At-Home-Mom

2010-02-25T17:36:00.002-05:00

Lately, I have been feeling very guilty about my lack interest in parenting my kids. It's been a crappy, snowy winter (see my last entry) and I can't bring myself to get the kids out of the house. I get MYSELF out of the house--racing off to work or the gym as soon as childcare arrives, but meeting their needs seems to have fallen off of my to-do list. Bad, bad mommy... So my poor kids are stuck at home, while I make money or build stronger quads.

Let's start at the beginning: I was home with my kids for four years before starting a psychology practice. I had always expected to go right back to work after my pregnancy, but Big Boy was born at the end of my post-doc, so I didn't have a job to return to...plus he had colic and I trusted NO ONE with him (I wanted to kill him myself--and if his own mother felt that way, just imagine how a stranger would feel!)...plus I wasn't licensed to practice independently...plus I had unbearable guilt about leaving my baby.... So, in spite of my wish to work, I stayed home. For. Four. Long. Years. At Home! Four! Years! And I had a second baby during that time, nut that I was. But I did get my psychology license (by some miracle).

When baby # 2 was 10 months old, I FINALLY found a babysitter I could trust...and...I...FLED! I flew out the door so fast I probably made a breeze...whoosh..."what was that blur?" "Oh, nothing, just a burned-out mommy racing at the speed of light to get the hell outta her house!"

And, seriously, I haven't looked back. I used to take Big Boy on all kinds of outings in his early years--to the library, the zoo, play dates, baby music classes, play groups, the museum...you name it. I had to do it. It was the only way for me to tolerate motherhood, stay sane, and keep from losing it with my child. And he benefited, too. He got to go out and see the world, to have fun while being with his closest attachment figure (that's me).

But, now that I have a sitter whom I L-O-V-E LOVE, I have completely lost interest in doing things with my kids. And it's like I barely even remember HOW to do things with them. And it just feels TOO HARD to schlep wild boys, gear, sippy cups, AND me on an outing. And it's winter. And it's cold and windy and snowy....And why would I want to??

But, I hear other moms at school pick up talking about the lessons they're going to after school, or the sled they just bought for the upcoming snow day, or their planned trip to the library/playdate/zoo/etc/etc/etc...and I feel like a total greedy loser of a mom...I bring my kids home...and I run off to do my evening work! And on days like today when school is canceled (in anticipation of a snow that never happened), I ignore their need to get out, but gratify my own.

Is that wrong?

I worry that I have become a selfish, no-fun kind of mommy...maybe I was just home for too long...maybe I went too far past my own limit...my own breaking point...

I do feed them, though. That's something, right?

Buried by the Month of February

2010-02-22T21:20:00.001-05:00

I haven't been able to post anything recently because this month has basically sucked. Major. Suckage. This. Month.

1. Snow Suckage.

We were hammered with several snowstorms in a row...our city had more snow on the ground than it has in the history of recorded time. Really. Ankorage, Alaska had 13 inches and we had 73...WTF is up with that?

So, we were stuck at home, stressed about digging ourselves out, watching the city's plows do a massively insufficient job, barely tolerating the power-outages (can you say "mommy panic attack" anyone?), waiting for the snow to stop while the thug we hired to plow our driveway ran over our bushes and broke branches off the evergreens...yeah, that was fun. (not.)

But, I did get a few good photos:

2. Phone Suckage.

Last month, my Palm smartphone died. The phone feature quit working, it was out of warranty, and it was time for my so-called "free upgrade" anyhow. There were no Palms to choose from at the Verizon store, so I got a Blackberry.

And OMG this device is making me crazy. I hate it. I love it. I want to throw it out. I never want to part with it. I want it in my room at night. I can't sleep with it in my room at night. If you have a blackberry, then you MUST know what I mean. Whenever I get an e-mail or a text, this little red light flashes at me. And I never know when the light will be flashing, so I frequently look at the phone. This is what we in Psychology call a variable interval reinforcement schedule...the light blinks at random, unpredictable time intervals...so you look at it OFTEN. It is the strongest behavioral reinforcer there is...it keeps you coming back for more...you can't help it...effin' crackberry! (but if you try to take it from me--trust me--I will KILL you!)

And the blackberry has made my parenting go to shit. Texting. Say no more. One day, I will probably be arrested for blackberry-induced child neglect.

3. Friend Suckage.

What is it about finding friends as adults? It seems like it should be simple, but it is just, like, the most effin' complicated thing in the WORLD. In other phases of life, you're stuck in a building with the same people, so inevitably you get to know some of them, and you make friends. I moved a lot as a child, and got really good at making friends. But now, as a grown woman, this endeavor seems impossible. I mean, sure, I have lots and lots of chit-chat at the gym friends, and hello-goodbye at school pick-up friends...but where are my get-down-and-dirty-with-a-bottle-of-wine friends? We've lived in this neighborhood for six years, and still the friend piece is missing. I guess this is just meant to be a lonely phase of life? (Really? Are you effin' kidding me? Come on, Mother Nature, cut us a freakin' BREAK! Moms need friends more than anyone!) If you read CBHM's blog, you'll see that I'm not alone...(and thank god for her blog!)

4. Work Suckage.

I totally over-committed myself...and then spent the month digging my house and cars out of the snow...and texting on the crackberry...and now I have to dig out the piles that are burying my desk. This isn't fair.

5. Sick Kids Suckage.

Kid one: snotty and whiny. Kid one gets better... Kid two: snotty, whiny, and clingy...Kid two gets better. Repeat x4 and you have the rest of my month.

In conclusion, I'd just like to say: SUCK IT, FEBRUARY! I DON'T WANT YOU ANY MORE! Bring it on, March, bring it on!

Deconstructing Mary's Lamb

2010-02-01T21:41:00.004-05:00

Tonight, as I sang Tot-Tot (age not-quite-3) his special-request song, "Mary Had A Little Lamb"...the following conversation occurred:

Me: (singing) "...he followed her to school one day, which was against the rule..."
TT: (interrupting) Why was it against the rule?
Me: Tot-Tot, I am singing.
TT: But why? Why was it against the rule?
Me: Because you can't bring an animal to school.
TT: But I bring my animals to school.
Me: Yours are stuffed. You can't bring a real animal to school. Like our cat, you can't bring her to school.
TT: Why can't I bring our cat to school?
Me: Because she is alive.
TT: Why is she alive?
Me: Because she breathes and eats and makes a pee-pee.
TT: (like this is news to him) How does she make a pee-pee?!?!
Me: (avoiding the actual question) She goes in the litter box.
TT: And sometimes she vomits. And that is NAUGHTY.
Me: Yes, sometimes she vomits and I don't like that.
TT: But why did Mary bring a lamb to school?
Me: Well, actually, the lamb followed her, so she didn't really bring it.
TT: So, the lamb was naughty?
Me: It's time for night-night.

Motherhood in Six Stanzas

2010-01-24T20:59:00.003-05:00

While preparing for a case conference today, I dug through a big stash of articles from graduate school...and I was surprised to find this poem at the beginning of one of them. I thought I'd share it with you.

The Impostor

I am a mother
although I have
this nightmare
that one of these days
someone will ask
to see my credentials.

I am a mother of two
although sometimes
they look at me
accusingly
because there are not enough hours
in my day.

I am a mother
although for the life of me
I don't know how to handle
their fits
much less mine.

I am a mother
who still needs mothering
and sometimes resents her mother
because she has to mother my father.

I am a fatherless mother
who has to wear two hats
but never quite knows when
to wear which one.

I am a mother
who doesn't know how she got here
and sometimes
thank god it's only sometimes
wishes she could resign.

-Suzana Cabanas

Birth of a Mother

2010-01-21T21:22:00.003-05:00

I have been reading a book by Daniel Stern called "The Birth of a Mother." Daniel Stern is a psychiatrist who works with parents and infants, who writes extensively about this work, and who is a major professional inspiration to me.

In "The Birth of a Mother", Dr. Stern writes about the phases women go through as they enter into motherhood. During pregnancy, he writes, women spend a great deal of time fantasizing about their baby--the kind of child it will be, the role it will play, and the relationship it will have to her. (Of course, this is all fantasy, and eventually the real baby will replace the fantasy baby in the mother's mind, if all goes well.)

According to Dr. Stern, these are some common baby roles/identities expectant moms imagine:

-The baby will be a giver of unconditional love
-The baby could be a replacement for a deceased love one
-The baby might be expected to be an antidepressant
-The mother may wish to fulfill her own dreams vicariously through the baby
-The baby could be expected to be the glue that holds the parents' marriage together
-The mother may worry that the father will experience the baby as his competitor for his wife's attention/affection
-The baby will enable the parents to become the perfect family
-The mother may worry that her baby will perpetuate particular flaws that run in the family
-The baby can be seen as a gift from the husband, from medical science, or from God
-The baby may be expected to contribute to the upward social mobility of the family, especially when the parents are emigrants
-Mothers may also imagine that their baby will be the family conciliator who will bridge interpersonal divides and repair damaged relationships among family members
-Babies are also sometimes expected to carry on the family traditions in terms of work, education, status, etc

Reading Dr. Stern's categories made me aware that in my first pregnancy, I had hoped my baby would be a "dream fulfiller" as well as the "family conciliator." First, I had wanted him to be a girl, since girls are scarce in my husband's family--so I thought having a daughter would endear me to my in-laws. I also wanted a daughter so that I could experience the loving mother-daughter relationship I never had with my own mother but had yearned for. Learning that I was having a son simultaneously shattered both of those fantasies (and even more so when I found out my second baby was another son, since we were stopping at two).

After I had embraced the gender of my baby, though, I began to imagine that he would be the magnet that would finally draw my family together. And, more than that, he would help me to build closer relationships with my husband's family. But--once he was born--it was clear that no baby could work these kind of interpersonal miracles. And it was too much to ask of him. Over time, I had to let go of my wishes and accept the reality my baby and of motherhood, with all of its beauty, wonder, pain, and fatigue.

And now, as I reflect on this, I am completely amazed by the mental work that women do as they become mothers. Really--becoming a mother is the most maturing experience a woman can have.

I wonder--do any of these fantasy-baby categories sound familiar to you? Do you remember how you reconciled your fantasy baby with your real-life baby? If so, did it require a lot of mental effort, or was it instantaneous and natural?

My Top 10 Antidepressants

2010-01-05T14:08:00.004-05:00

10. The Web (facebook, blogs, etc)
9. Getting laundry done
8. Sex (didn't this used to be #1??)
7. Having a predictable routine
6. Work (see #7)
5. A good cry in therapy!
4. Any live connection to friends
3. Good-night snuggles with my boys
2. Gym Time
1. Sleep

Fly Away Home

2010-01-03T18:55:00.005-05:00

Last night, I was at a local bookstore browsing in the children's section for a book for my 5-year-old, when I came across a book called "Fly Away Home." The cover showed a boy and his dad at an airport.

I thought the book would be about a boy taking a plane trip with his dad.

It's not.

It's about a homeless boy and his dad who live at the airport.

The story is written from the young boy's perspective. In the book, the boy describes his life with his father--trying to exist in a city airport, unnoticed. He tells us about their daily routine of careful maneuvering around the airport, using the bathrooms to get clean, eating at the various food stands, sleeping sitting up in chairs, and generally trying to blend in with the crowds so as not to get kicked out. He also mentions times when his dad seems upset and exasperated while trying to find a job and a stable home for himself and his child.

There are many amazing things about this sad tale, but I was mostly struck by the happy tone of the homeless boy. Clearly he wants a home, but he also seems to feel safe with the routine he has with his dad. His father can't afford to pay rent, but has found a safe alternative and has used skillful planning to keep them from getting caught and evicted. As a result, the boy knows that he is cared for. He knows that he means something great to his struggling father. And, even though they are homeless, he thrives under his father's wing.

Of course, as a parent, I instantly connected with the father's point-of-view. I can't imagine what it would be like to be unable to provide basic necessities for my children. But, then again, this boy shows the reader that what really matters most is caring guidance and love. And in this story, the father is able to give these things...which is really an unbelievable feat for a parent under tremendous stress. (Yes, I know this is just a story...)

I might go back to get the book. I don't know if I want to read it to my 5-year-old son just yet, but I might want to re-read it myself from time-to-time, as a reminder to appreciate the great things I have in life.

Confessions from 2009--A Day Late

2010-01-01T11:43:00.005-05:00

(Inspired by: Carolyn...Online)

Even though I hated all the grocery shopping...there is also something I liked about controlling the food that's in the house. (Same goes for cooking dinner.)

I routinely hid my favorite coffee mug from the babysitter.

I bumped into someone's car, and when they didn't notice, I didn't tell them. (I don't think I left a mark, but, still...)

I had my knives "professionally" sharpened, which ruined them. I returned them to the store where they were bought (not sharpened), complaining that they dulled too easily. I plan to use the money to buy a new set of the exact same knives, and take better care of them.

I had many hateful thoughts directed toward non-parents.

Sometimes I thought I was smarter than everyone else. Really. I thought this. Ha!

I escaped domestic chores because I had a lot of work to do. Then I got on Facebook instead of doing it.

I returned many of the toys my sons got for Christmas. I just couldn't stand the clutter and junkiness. They haven't noticed because I used the store credit to buy them new (toy) electric guitars. (Now I want to return those, too...)

I have been very greedy when it comes to sleep. I probably should have gotten up with the kids on at least SOME of those Saturday mornings...

I have felt competitive with other women in my profession. I hate that.

I frequently forgot to count my blessings. Let's hope that gets better in 2010.

Happy New Year!

History of Holiday Hurts

2009-12-29T12:51:00.006-05:00

From the time I can remember, the holidays have been rough. My parents got divorced when I was 2 years old, and there was no greater time of parental struggles than during the holidays. The struggles were always over where the kids would go for Christmas, and when they would arrive. And no matter what, we were always delivered to one parent or another LATER than agreed upon, which always caused someone to be angry, hurt, and disappointed. This was the case for my entire childhood, year after year. No matter which parent I was with, I felt I was letting the other parent down, hurting them by not being there. (Even though, of course, none of this was my fault...)

Once I met my husband, he pointed out that this pattern was still going on, even in my adult years. In fact, he made a list entitled "The History of Holiday Hurts." Every year, he would write onto the list what the annual "hurt" was. The list is very full now, mostly of complaints made by each of my parents. My father never gets enough attention for the gifts he gives. My mother never feels we spend enough time with her. Hurt, hurt, hurt....waah, waah, waah...

Now that we have THE LIST, I can really see what I have done wrong...Nothing! My parents just act like little babies at this time of year, and apparently this has been the case since I was a toddler.

So, this year, we spent the holidays at home with our children and our friends--and did not invite my mom or dad. Sure, my parents were hurt by this, but at least I only had to deal with the occasional whining of my young boys (who are at an age where whining is EXPECTED)! I felt a lot of my own angst about this decision, but I don't think my kids could tell, since they had an awesome time!

Sorry, Mom and Dad, if this hurt you again. But I am trying to stay focused on your grandchildren so that the holidays don't fill them with anxiety and guilt when they're parents themselves.

(note: my parents don't actually read this blog.)

8 Minutes

2009-12-22T14:52:00.004-05:00

I have 8 minutes before the sitter leaves. What shall I do with this time?

I could-

Do some work or
Update my website or
Wrap presents or
Think or
Fix the broken towel-holder in the bathroom or
Look up holiday recipes or
Put away my shoes or
Clean off my desk or
Eat or
Start printing 2 years' worth of photos or
Reply to e-mails or
Return phone calls or
Cancel tomorrow's dentist appointment or
Put away groceries or
Plan for my workshop or
Internet shop for diapers or
Balance my checkbook or
Make a to-do list or
Start the next grocery list or
Breathe or
Sit or
Pee...
Maybe I'll multitask and do these last 3 at once...oh, no...too late. Time's up.

Rock-a-Bye

2009-12-13T21:22:00.003-05:00

Have you ever thought about the lyrics to "rock-a-bye baby?"

My toddler, Tot-Tot, has recently been asking me to sing "rock-a-bye baby" to him. I sing it, changing the lyrics from "down will come baby" to "mommy will catch you." Of course, I KNOW that this defeats the whole purpose of the song, which, in my shrink-ish opinion, is to serve as an outlet for maternal aggression. ("All your crying makes me want to throw you from a tree! But I can't, so I'll sing you this sweet-angry song instead," for example...) But, I don't feel particularly aggressive toward my toddler (since now he sleeps all night!), and I don't want to make him scared of falling objects, and I don't want to answer the million questions about how the baby got in the tree, and why he had to fall...so I change the lyrics.

But, now my son has adapted the lyrics even further. He asks me to sing that I am the one up in the tree, that I must fall, and that HE will catch ME.

Touche, Tot-Tot, touche!

Parent Squeeze

2009-12-03T10:50:00.005-05:00

Our society is rough on new families. Really, really rough. What is expected seems impossible: bring in money, run a home, care for small, dependent, children (who are prone to self-injurious behaviors), manage cars, toys, clothes, and shoes, keep everyone fed and cleaned...the list goes on and on. And, in this fast-paced, race, race, race world, how are parents supposed to be able to do all of this...and also raise the next generation to be smart, happy, and well-attached? Especially when many of us parents-of-young-children have little or no family support nearby to help. After 5-1/2 years of motherhood, I cannot figure this out. It is unsolvable.

In my psychology practice, I treat a number of parents of this generation...and I hear this story over and over again. How can a mom work full-time, bring home the majority of the family's income, feed everyone, clean the house, AND get to spend time with her child? There is not enough time. There is not enough emotional space. Moms like this get no time for their own self-care. How can a father work full-time, deal with the pressures and demands of a job while supporting his family financially, and also be able to be home in time to relieve his burned-out, exhausted, stay-home wife...and be available to spend time with his children? And how can the couple, the parents, find time to connect with each other so that their marriage stays strong? Really, these are impossibilities. Yet, with lots of planning and strategizing, these parents manage to scrape by, often by lowering their standards in one of these areas. It's the only way.

You have no idea how much I wish I could solve these problems. But it is impossible. In a society where everyone is spread thin, disconnected, and life pressures and demands are enormous, parents often suffer. I know that some families have it easier than other families (when they have adequate social supports), but for the most part, I think our society has failed in this area. Where are our priorities? Help parents help their children! Come ON!!!

In Sweden, new mothers and fathers are BOTH entitled to a year of leave when a child is born. My understanding is that this is paid for with government (tax) money. In this way, the entire society has said that it values new parents and values the work they are doing to bring up the next generation. It will support them however possible. Our society seems short-sighted...will it ever change?

If you have any thoughts or strategies that have worked for you...please share them with me! I would love to hear how you're managing this selfless phase-of-life.

Averting My Eyes

2009-11-16T21:04:00.005-05:00

Motherhood has taught me a lot of things about myself. For example, before having children, I didn't fully realize that I am a closet perfectionist. And, yes, I know that "closet perfectionist" is a double-entendre (a word/phrase with more than one meaning). So, I am a closet perfectionist because (1) my closets must be perfect and (2) I tend to not let other people know that I am a perfectionist. I didn't really have to face my own perfectionism until children came along...and...DESTROYED EVERYTHING that I was so perfectionistic about.

I have also realized that my perfectionism often manifests itself in compulsive organizing. I really, really, REALLY love it when everything has its own place, and when things are put back where they go. I RELY on being organized during crazy, stressed-out times, so that I can find what I need, when I need it.

[I'm sure you know where this is leading...]

We all know that there is no crazier, more stressed-out phase-of-life than the transition-to-parenthood. This is a time when I have needed my own organizational systems more than ever before...and, yet, since having children, my urge to organize has been the source of deep frustration for me. I have, by some miracle, found time here-and-there to create would-be effective organizational systems...like toy bins with labels, so that the kids and their babysitters can put the proper toys back in the proper bins. But, really, do you think this actually happens? (Can I get a resounding "HELL NO!"??) I have organized our mud room, kitchen cabinets, laundry room, kids closets (of course!), etc etc etc. And nothing stays put. I can never find what I need. I live in a constantly migrating house.

So, I have a new method for dealing with this problem. In order to keep myself from freaking out, crying, or flying-off-the-handle--I AVERT MY EYES. Or I shut a door. Or I make the conscious decision to not THINK about the mess-that-was-once-organized. (Really, this could make me cry. Is that insane or what?)

Because if you are like me, and you need some help with raising your kids (while you work, or even work out), and running your house...then you know that HAVING HELP = RELINQUISHING CONTROL. This is so hard for me. I want the help, but I also want other people to think and do what I would think and do...and, well, it just doesn't work like that.

And, all of this really just makes me hate the stupid Pottery Barn catalog even more. (That post is coming soon.)

How Many No's Does it Take to Equal NO! ?

2009-11-15T22:08:00.008-05:00

My older son has stopped listening to me and GEH. It's as if he doesn't hear us at all. He starts doing something dangerous. We tell him to stop. He continues. We pester him. He continues. We nag...until we eventually have to physically interrupt whatever he is doing to get his attention. (Then he often cries and flees the room.)

What is UP with this? I did not think that age 5 would be such a challenge...I feel like he is already in the midst of some teenage-angst-ridden rebellion...ignoring, ignoring, ignoring us...and I am suddenly thrust into the role of the relentlessly nagging annoying mother who just can't let it go....

And the non-listening also happens when we go out. For instance, I took him to Target (aka, China) today to get (lead-ridden) exterior holiday lights. And, of course, he wanted everything. And, of course, I told him "no."

I remember a woman I used to babysit for advising me about being sure to routinely tell my kids "no." If I don't tell them "no" she said, they will not be able to tolerate hearing "no"...and will turn into the kind of kids no one wants to be around. So, I say this word A LOT! I mean, like, over and over and over again:

"No, you can't."
"No, not now."
"No means no!"

And, still, my kid pesters me. I mean, is he just an innocent victim of consumerism? (But this goes on even at home, when he relentlessly demands his own way.) Or does he need a hearing test? (His doctor says his hearing is on par for his age.) Because, I swear, he asks and asks and asks for things, and I repeat "no" each time. And this has. gone. on. for. YEARS.

Is it me? Is my "no" just not convincing enough? Have we coddled him too much in other ways? Do the poor starving kids in third world countries have this problem?

Ugh. Next week, I'll tell you about the whining...

Drowning in Riches

2009-11-12T12:23:00.004-05:00

Lately I have been overwhelmed by life. I've had an ongoing sinus headache for TWO (freakin') months--don't worry, I'm seeing my doctor--my psychology practice is really busy, my husband has been traveling for work, and I am still trying to be a (semi) stay-home mom...which means taking care of children, drop-offs and pick-ups, arranging babysitters, grocery shopping (don't EVEN get me started on the f'ing grocery shopping!), and feeding feeding feeding a family of 4. Really, in my attempt to "have it all", I am just overwhelmed.

I talk to my own therapist a lot about this, and her sense is that what I am complaining about could be re-conceptualized as an "abundance of riches." And, you know what? She is right. My life is full of REALLY good stuff (with the exception of the headache...). I have a healthy, happy family, a house, cars that work, money to buy food, and the ability to work part-time and also take care of my kids. So, what the hell am I bitching about? I guess that having this great ABUNDANCE of riches still overwhelms me, since I tend to go into a frenzy of trying to do everything just right. But, I guess I could swap it all for an abundance of crap...and then I'd be really screwed.

Sometimes, re-conceptualizing things is a good idea.

Rush, Rush

2009-11-11T17:41:00.004-05:00

I imagine you've noticed how rude people can be driving their cars...zooming in front of you, cutting you off, not waiting their turn (GEH calls those "opportunists!"). On days when I am calm enough myself, I like to watch these patterns. It has been striking me lately that pretty much everyone is a narcissist when they drive (at least in my neighborhood). It's as though no one else's needs matter to the driver who ignores the stop sign to get in front of you. There's no empathy when someone tries to rush past you and nearly clips the back of your car. And...why is that?

Here's my theory. I think that our world is moving too fast, and everyone is, literally, speeding out of control. I imagine that the dude in the pick-up truck who almost runs me down is hurrying because he's late to work because he was up half the night with his newborn and overslept... and now doesn't want to lose his job. The woman in the zippy convertible who's on her cell phone trying to find a babysitter is too distracted to connect with the world around her. In a world where everyone wants everything instantaneously (if not YESTERDAY), we don't stand a chance at empathy. There is just too much pressure on everyone. And we're all victims here...I know I often feel like my own world is speeding out of control. I mean, when I am the asshole driver, I certainly have GOOD REASON!

With our cell phones, and text messages, and e-mail, and instant messages, and twitter and our endless so-called "connectedness" (more on that in a future blog), we have no time to ourselves. No time to breathe, slow down, or think. Maybe it's this phase of life, but I feel constant pressure to be 100 places at once...and this really makes it hard to imagine life from someone else's perspective. It turns me, temporarily, into a narcissist on the road.

The one thing that I think saves me (and hopefully you) from rush rush rushing so fast that I wind up in an early grave is, ironically, the very thing that makes me rush in the first place: motherhood. Even though I am always hurrying for drop-offs and pick-ups and babysitter curfews, it is my children who put things back into perspective. I swear, my sons are little zen masters! They are always IN THE MOMENT. I tend to be in the future, but they bring me back to right-here, right-now. There's no escaping the pull, either...if you are with them, there is no choice but to just BE WITH THEM. And, I am thankful for this. It's a real gift I get...to slow down and connect, instead of rushing right through their childhood.

I hope the other drivers out there have kids to go home to...so they can take a moment to slow down and realize that the man-made pressures of the world are, frankly, crap. This is honestly something I think about in my car, trying resist social-pressure-induced narcissism...

Salad Haiku

2009-10-18T21:27:00.006-04:00

Cool, crisp leafy greens-
now I, with kids, miss you. You
take too long to eat.

Peeping Mom

2009-10-17T22:46:00.004-04:00

I don't know if this would classify as a diagnosable mental disorder, or if it is even a problem, but I have to tell you that I am a peeping mom. You might have seen me occasionally peeking into your car window, or glancing in your open front door. But don't freak out. I am just checking to see if your car is covered in toys, cheerios, juice, crumbs, mud, wipes, and more toys. And I just want to know if your house has big huge piles of crap where organization once was. When I see that your car and your house are a chaotic, disorganized mess...I feel a wave of relief that I am not alone, a sense of deep cosmic connection, and a reassurance that nothing is really wrong with me...well, except for this peeping compulsion.

Can you get tutoring for "mom brain"?

2009-10-07T18:48:00.004-04:00

I recently agreed to run a panel discussion for a psychology symposium, as the panel's discussant. Sounds easy, right? Stand up, introduce the panelists, give a brief description of what everyone is here to talk about, then sit down...

But, actually, there is WORK involved. And I can't keep up with it. I get e-mails telling me what I need to do, including writing my bio, seminar learning goals, etc, and I can't seem to get it done...actually, I can't even remember the BASIC INSTRUCTIONS that I need to follow...you know, like how many goals to write, and when this is all due. WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO MY BRAIN? My capacity for concentration and attention to detail is utterly shot. I would want it back, too, if I could think about it for long enough.

I was encouraged by an article I read last year about motherhood improving cognitive skills, you know, from all the MULTITASKING we do. The main study cited in the article looked at rat mommies and noted that they were able to do about a zillion little rat things while caring for their pups (compared to their male counterparts). **NOTE: Are you noticing how decidedly unscientific this description is? And I have a Ph.D. HA!!** Maybe my brain is somehow stronger now...but I can tell you, it is not functioning properly!

I think someone should start a business of working for moms as their auxiliary brains. For example, this person could follow a mom around, making notes of what needs to be done, posting reminders and regularly whispering in her ear "don't forget the wet clothes need to go into the dryer" or "you should be doing your work and not writing your blog"...or, what the hell, maybe they should just do it for her! Who are these lazy, pestering jerks anyhow?!?

Oy. I need a drink. Speaking of drinks...Did I mention that I quit drinking coffee? It was giving me severe blood sugar crashes. :( Maybe this is my problem lately. Maybe those rodent mommies did so well in their multitasking because they got to drink coffee.

Here's my new hypothesis:

Mom Brain (minus) stimulants = severe cognitive decline

I'd research this myself, but, well...wait...what was I saying?

Gross

2009-10-02T13:21:00.008-04:00

Yesterday, something was awry at kindergarten pick-up. I showed up, parked Tot-Tot outside in his stroller, and ran in to get Big Boy. He was sitting at a corner table looking distressed. He came out walking in a very awkward, stiff way, looking sheepish. I asked "is something wrong" and he mumbled, "I'll tell you at home." Then I smelled him...Ew. Gross.

I asked "did you make a poo-poo in your pants?" Looking VERY sad and humiliated, he admitted that he had. He'd apparently been playing on the playground and couldn't make it in on time. I quickly retrieved the tot, who was waiting just outside, grabbed the bag of emergency clothes I'd left at school, and we made a beeline for the kindergarten potty. After a (stinky) clothes-changing ordeal (that I'd rather forget), he was fresh and clean again, and ready to run outside.

Once we got home, the kids played together and Big Boy was in a fine mood. It was great to have solved the (smelly) problem, but I was left with another dilemma...What do I do with this gross, nasty underwear? Do I throw it out? No--I can't do that! It's from the Gap!! Do I WASH it? Ew. Gross. Who wants to do that? Finally, I decided to dump it in a bucket w/detergent and soak it overnight.

But, then, you still gotta wash it somehow...

...and then you gotta wash everything it touched...

And...ew, gross.

But, you know, I have to admit that (in addition to being thoroughly repulsed by this job) I actually felt proud of myself for taking such good care of my little Big Boy. I somehow managed to not feel angry or upset with him, I reassured him, and got him through his moment of humiliation...helping him to emerge with restored self-esteem.

And, to think...he was going to wait to tell me until we got home...you know, after RIDING in my CAR. (ew. gross.)

Dirty Mommy

2009-09-25T21:58:00.005-04:00

For the first several years of motherhood, my appearance was very important to me. Maybe it was a holdover from my working-woman self, but every morning, I showered and blow-dried my hair. Every. Morning. Without. Fail. I never even thought there was another way to be. I never really thought about how my appearance looked to other moms...It was just a compulsion to be "put together" before I left the house. But, for the past several months, I haven't had the time to shower and blow-dry my hair each and every (freakin') morning. I started going to the gym on days I don't work, so now, I don't want to shower first. I want to go get stinky dirty grimy sweaty before I bother taking a shower. This means I often leave the house with baggy frumpy not-cute gym clothes on, my greasy hair covered by a hat. And...I have to tell you, I have made a lot more friends and acquaintances in my nasty-dirty state than I ever did when I was clean-and-fresh. It's funny. Apparently there's nothing like a hat and greasy hair to even the playing field, to show the world that you're right there with them, trying to fit it all in...

Maternal Happiness is...

2009-09-23T18:34:00.008-04:00

-my boys laughing together
-GEH walking in the door at dinnertime
-getting the chance to miss my kids
-the sun coming out just when it looks like rain (and it's time for school pick-up)
-childhood excitement about pumpkin season
-glimpses of the brother bond
-hearing GEH's voice reading bedtime stories
-working enough hours to be sane
-greeting a happy child after a day at school
-a bag full of library books
-a trustworthy babysitter
-a trustworthy babysitter WHO DOES THE DISHES!
-children sleeping past 6am
-knowing that your children are thriving, even when you're apart
-getting the chance to contribute 2 great (feminist!) men to the world
:)

Confession

2009-09-20T21:36:00.004-04:00

You may as well know that I am not close with my mother. Since she's unlikely to find this blog, I can be pretty honest about this. My mom and I don't talk very often and, when we do talk, it's mostly me trying to get off of the phone. But, even though I am often the one trying to flee the relationship, I am still really mad that I am not closer to her. Of course, I have lots and lots of good reasons for keeping her at an arm's length (it became clear that this was necessary when my kids were born, for their well-being...you'll just have to take my word for it). But still...I yearn for what so many other moms have, which I won't ever have: a mother to nurture me while I nurture my kids. I think about this a lot on days like today.

We drove yesterday to visit my in-laws for Rosh Hashanah. It's a long trip both ways, especially when you factor in toddler whining and crying and kindergartner demandingness. So, today we were exhausted; but still, there were the usual chores to do...I spent the entire day doing chores, running errands, and cooking for the next week. And, in the midst of all of this, I felt like crying out of self-pity. I am so tired of giving and care-taking, and I want a little pay back. GEH gives me what he can, but he is tired, too, from all the giving and care-taking he's doing on his end. And, anyhow, what I need can't just come from him. I need the support of another woman. I joke that I need a wife, but, really, I need a mother: one whom I can rely on, who nurtures, who cooks, who listens, and who knows, loves, and plays with my kids (they need this, too).

I barely ever let myself consider what motherhood would be like if I were close to my mom. The vision is just too far from reality...it's like looking at the sun--if I do it for more than a second it becomes hot, blinding, and painful.

So, there. Now you know.

Family Stretch Marks?

2009-09-18T17:56:00.005-04:00

GEH and I spent a lot of time planning this year's school schedule. We live in an urban area, and decided to use private schools for our kids. This meant that we couldn't just enroll our older son in kindergarten, but we had to apply for him to be admitted. We strategized. We applied. Big Boy got in. We changed him to the new school last week, and he is thriving. Kindergarten: check.

We also noticed that our 2 1/2 year old seemed bored at home, so we decided to enroll him in a little preschool 2 days per week. We chose a school that has a great program and is near Big Boy's school. We also had to apply, and he was also accepted. But, in this case, little Tot Tot, it turns out, does NOT seem to be a fan of school. (At least not yet.) The first week, he cried at drop-off, he cried at reunion, and he cried if you said the word "school." He told us all weekend (between tantrums) that he doesn't want to go back to school, and that he wants to know why kids have to cry at school. (So sad, little tot!) He has been really trying to understand the concept of being left somewhere without one of his main people (parents, sitter, big brother), since this has never happened before. He asked us over-and-over "why do daddies bring you to school, play with you, and then they have to go to work???"

So, we were left with the sense that we'd made the wrong choice to send him to school. He's young after all, and he is fine at home with a babysitter. It is easier for mama, too, to not have to go get him early so that he won't cry ALL day...But, then, we heard little Tot singing a new "clean up" song when he was putting his toys away. (What? Putting his toys away?!?! When did this happen?)

And it struck me that this kid is going to be Ok. He will adapt. He is more resilient than we think he is, and now is a chance for him to stretch himself to learn how to be in a new (safe and secure) environment. If we bail out, we miss our chance for him to (1) learn, (2) have fun, and (3) use his own skills to manage something new. When I picked him up early on his first day of preschool, for example, I found him rubbing the little crevice above his upper lip, which is what he does when he needs to soothe himself. At first, I felt sad, like "oh-no, he's so stressed that he's rubbing his lip"...but then I corrected myself, thinking "wait--but thank GOD he has that little trick and knows how to use it!"

This week's school experience was a little better...less crying at school and at home, fewer why-questions about going to school, and less overall resistence. Maybe by next week he'll be even more acclimated, and will start to have the fun we promised him! I feel proud of the little guy for starting to work out this big change for himself, and I feel proud of us for trusting him.

Calm in the Storm

2009-08-29T22:01:00.004-04:00

This morning, we made a last-minute decision to take the boys shopping for fall clothes. Even though other parents might have thought it was an early start (10:45am), by the time we arrived I was already afraid that we were too late and our poor planning was going to cost our toddler his beloved afternoon nap. The day was a blur of visiting the potty, snacking, diaper changing, toddler-chasing, getting lunch, toddler-soothing, and returning to the potty. We were there for about 3 hours, 30 minutes of which were spent shopping. And, of course, we screwed up our toddler's nap.

These are the times when I get the most stressed about parenthood. I want to make sure that everyone's needs are met...the kindergartener's, the toddler's, GEH's, and, finally, mine. When I lose track of time, or when I feel unorganized and scattered (which is often!), I just start hating this phase of life. I think I can't do it...I can't get things right for everyone...someone is hungry, someone always has to use the potty, someone is tired or frustrated. I feel frazzled trying to keep everyone comfortable, and then I usually realize that I am frustrated, tired, starving and haven't peed for hours myself...

But in spite of all my stress, my kids love these outings. If the toddler doesn't nap, his behavior may be erratic (and sometimes intolerable), but he will go to bed early. He spends most of his days at home, so these outings are, to him, a valuable change of pace. And the kindergartener thinks shopping is the best activity ever. He loves trying to convince me of why he must have every item in every store... (And making up reasons why is probalby the most strenuous cognitive exercise I get!)

I wish I could relax and enjoy the day...and just know that in the end, it will all be fine. I write this as my kids are sleeping soundly, in spite of the loud thunderstorm outside. Maybe I could learn something from this moment...It may be storming outside, but, really, things are safe and calm inside.

Here Comes the Fall

2009-08-26T18:07:00.003-04:00

My older son is starting Kindergarten in 2 weeks. My toddler is starting 2 days of preschool in 2 weeks. They are starting on the same day...each one in a new school, each one with his own excitement mixed with separation anxiety. The schools are just one block away from each other, and they have the exact same spring breaks. In each of these schools will be my boys, each entering a new phase-of-life, each growing more independent by the day.

I have spent the last 2 weeks trying to arrange school drop-offs and pick-ups, combined with childcare for when they're not in school, combined with my (somewhat flexible) work schedule, combined with GEH's schedule...in short, I have been coordinating 5 schedules for the fall. And I am mentally exhausted.

I have spent the last few days suddenly realizing that times are changing. My boys are growing, developing, reaching new milestones. With their growth and development comes more freedom for me (yay) but more distance from them (oh, no!). I don't know how I will manage all of these schedules logistically, but, more importantly, I don't know how I will manage the changes emotionally. For years, all I wanted was my freedom back...now it is closer, and I want my babies back (or do I?).

Don't Be Perfect

2009-08-23T21:03:00.007-04:00

I became a mother over 5 years ago. My first son was a screamer. He cried nonstop for, oh, about 4 months... As a new mom of an unsoothable baby, I could not understand why no one had told me how much motherhood sucked. (It wasn't until I had my second child that I realized that all babies did not scream like he did!)

Even though his colic/reflux only lasted a few months, I still feel how it has impacted my mothering. It is psychological torture to be unable to soothe your baby. I responded to my sense of utter inadequacy by trying to do things just right. I quit working to stay home with him. I made sure he napped and ate on schedule. We had the same routine every night. In short, my striving to be a perfect mother made me miserable.

In psychology grad school, I had read Winicott, and knew about the concept of the "good-enough mother." It took me years, though, to finally appreciate WHY being good-enough is far, far better than being perfect. Here's a quote from Winicott:

"The good-enough mother...starts off with an almost complete adaptation to her infant's needs, and as time proceeds she adapts less and less completely, gradually, according to the infant's growing ability to deal with her failure" (Winnicott, 1953)

I think that I've gotten a lot better at failing as a mother. It's not always a great feeling, failure, but the more I do it, the more my children learn to adapt to it. If I were to keep striving for perfection, I would still be miserable, and my children would have no sense about some of life's realities: disappointment, delayed gratification, separation, annoyance...

But, as you will see in reading this blog, I struggle CONSTANTLY with my desire to be perfect, to have it all. I guess this is one of the main problems faced by modern-day mothers. I have a lot to say about that...and I will in blogs to come.