One Step Forward, Ten Steps Back

A few weeks ago, my best friend sent me an update from our 10 year high school reunion...

I was a little surprised she went since she's the one who suggested that we completely blow off the five reunion, but then again... who really cares about the five year reunion?

We were still in school at the time (grad school, but still school), working at so-so jobs, unmarried, and childless. Other than living on our own instead of with our parents, not much had really changed since high school.

Ten years is a little different though. You would hope that a lot has changed. Being closer to 30 than 13, you would especially hope that people would have grown up and gotten over... well, all that high school crap.

I would have been interested to see what became of everyone. (Just not interested enough to remember where I put my invitation...)

I laughed out loud as I read who had married whom, who got really, REALLY fat, who was still a snobby bitch (as if I didn't already know), and about my ex-boyfriend, who apparently is...

Still.

Not.

Over.

Me... GAH!

The next few days, the photos, messages, and friend requests started popping up all over Facebook. As all of these people who I used to know reconnected, I started to feel a teensy ounce of regret and wistfulness over missing the reunion...

I noticed a lot of my classmates are married and/or new parents. Most have careers that are taking off or just finishing grad school. It would have been so interesting to hear all of the "how we got here" stories.

Then, I came across the profile of boy who I had the BIGGEST crush on my sophomore year. He just graduated with an MBA from Harvard and he still has not idea I exist... and even though I'm happily married and living a fabulous life in London, that still makes me wilt.

Then, there was the boy who had the biggest crush on me. I knew it and I chose to ignore it... Well, he's a published author now and I can't even keep up with my blog.

There were the kids I used to make fun of, the kids that used to make fun of me, and so forth...

...and just like that, I was transformed into the self-conscious, nervous girl with the dorky glasses and hairy legs because her mom won't let her shave her legs. (Seriously.)

The one that went to junior prom stag, took dance instead of tennis, and worked crew instead of starred in the play because she never got picked for anything... and was lame enough to get upset by it.

Of course, none of that matter now, but as my best friend put it best in her e-mail:

This entire event undermined everything we had worked for and become over the last 10 years in terms of coming to know ourselves and the new self confidence that brings - it turned even me into the nervous high school girl I once was and [my husband] saw the embarrassing and awful regression as soon as I walked in.

I guess I'm glad I missed it after all.

WFMW: It Never Hurt to Ask...

I'm a first time participant in WFMW...

I enjoy reading the entries each week. A few times, I've even wanted to jump in, but then I wondered, "Will they think my idea is dumb? dated? OBVIOUS?"

I would fret and fret and fret...

Next thing I know, it's Thursday and time to work on my haiku for Friday (which I haven't actually done in a while... eek!)

Well, something impressive happened the other day that I just had to share with the world, and it was all my dad's doing.

A few weeks ago, we had to rush my son to the children's hospital emergency room. He's had a history of allergies, skin eczema, and now... asthma.

He was having a bad attack, but thanks to my mom's connections he was treated immediately and recovered quickly. I paid my co-pay and took him home. We haven't had any issues since. (Thank God!)

I had finally put the entire terrifying experience out of mind when I received a bill from the hospital. I was completely clueless as our entire visit was supposed to be covered. There wasn't even a hospital stay and my mom was the referring physician...

Since my dad deals with medical insurance professionally, I turned it over to him and his assistant to contend with. He put in a call to sort out exactly what was (and wasn't) covered and it turns out the bill was, indeed, correct.

Then, he asked if they would offer me DISCOUNT if I paid the bill in full that day...

Wha? Seriously???

Yup. If you actually take the time to call, you too can get a 25% discount with Blue Cross/Blue Shield for services rendered. Bravo, Daddy!!!!

Try it out sometime. It works for me!

A Wedding Story

One of the qualities I love about my best friend is her ability to spin the most stressful of situations into an amusing story and tell it like it's no big deal.

She find the good in everything, or at the very least, the punchline...

I also love that she is one of the few girls I know who isn't drama. She has no need to make things any more complicated or emotional than they need to be.

Naturally, one would imagine that planning a wedding in a foreign country and in a language with its very own alphabet would have shaken that.

After all, my traditional and in town wedding was horrendous enough to plan, but that's because I'm related to crazies...

Even when their wedding date had to be postponed (a few times), international travel had to be arranged, and the reception venue fell through at the last minute, my best friend kept her cool and good nature through it all.

Talking to her, you'd never know all the hoops that they had to jump through to get their marriage recognized and certified in both the US and Greece.

Being the Greek-speaking one of the couple, her fiancé sorted a lot of the details, and as if that wasn't enough work, he was still concerned about our plans--making sure that our hotel was on the up and up, that we were getting good fares , and that we enjoyed ourselves.

Of course, how could we NOT enjoy ourselves. I mean, just look at where we were...

Unfailingly gracious, both of them (and their families) kept thanking for coming "all the way to Greece" for their wedding and telling us how much it meant to them that we were there especially considering that our life is in a complete upheaval at the moment...

Like we would have missed the biggest day in our best friends' lives for anything. Their wedding could have been over a trough in a barn in Kansas and Hubby and I still would have been happy... nay, THRILLED to be there.

Fortunately for us it was on a balcony overlooking the Mediterranean at sunset and it was gorgeous.

The bride was completely radiant and the groom was so handsome as their spoke the vows they had written in English, then again in Greek.

My best friend was a bridesmaid at my wedding and my roommate at the time. She witnessed the whole fiasco front and center from the arguments over the length of my veil to my mother and mother-in-law competing for "biggest pain in the ass".

Still my best friend's only recollection of that entire process was how I looked the day I got married- the expression on my face when when I walked down the aisle and the quiet, nervous moments she and I shared before.

She and her fiancé ended up catching the garter and bouquet at our wedding, which was extra funny since they actually met the same night Hubby and I did. It makes for a great story at dinner parties, but it's hardly ever the one that she tells.

Instead she tells everyone to story of how happy and amazed and excited she was for me that day. She says that she'd never seen me that calm and peaceful before and she was completely moved by it. Of course, I always took it as more of her good nature.

I've been a guest at my fair share of weddings. I've cried. I've gushed. I've forgotten all about it the next day, but this wedding was different.

I never really understood what she was always fussing about until I saw the expression on her face as they exchanged their vows. I'll never forget how that felt. It was the joy of seeing two people you really, really love so happy and so in love on the most special day of their life...

It was something I'll probably never stop gushing about either.

I love you, "Beppie" and "Ricki", and I wish you all the best and happily ever after.

Saying Good-bye

In all of the drama and details of moving, we sort of overlooked one thing…

The fact that we’re leaving so many wonderful friends in Dallas… some of which came out for a “good-bye dinner” in our honor yesterday evening.

When one of our friends first suggested it a few weeks ago, I really didn’t give it much thought. It was a very sweet gesture, of course, but I was too consumed with all of the junk… er, stuff in our house and deciding what to ship versus store. I put together a small(ish) guest list and an eVite was quietly sent, while I contended with “bigger” stuff like acquiring a passport for my toddler and putting the house on the market…

The evening of the dinner, my parents came by to watch our son and do more packing. Hubby was still obsessing over his boxes of books before I dragged him out to the car. On the way to the restaurant, we discussed how my family was handling the move and debated which storage company to go with…

We were the first to arrive and as our friends began showing up, we filled each of them in on all of the details, rehashing over and over when Hubby was set to depart and when my son and I would follow, the new job, etc.

It wasn’t until Hubby and I were seated at dinner, surrounded by people who actually wanted to hear every tedious detail about our move, that it hit us…

We’re leaving them.

We are actually leaving all of these people who we love and adore. People who have heard all of our best stories… TWICE, but laugh out loud anyways. People who know that I talk too loud and am often crass, but will still be seen with me… in public, no less. People who we are touched and honored to affectionately call our “friends back home”.

Hubby's flight leaves on Thursday, as in less than a week from today…

We don't have a lot of time, but we've made a point of make it to lunches and play groups anyway. People have dropped by the house either to deliver boxes or a coffee cake and wish us well. Sometimes, they come by just to chat, and even though no one says it, I can't help by sadly wonder if this is the last time we'll see them "until we come back home".

"The Invisible Mom "

Okay, so I'm totally ripping a lovely bit of inspiration found on Mom Logic (awesome site, by the way. Woot! Woot!) and reposting it here...

I don't normally forward stuff like this, but it really moved me. I was literally tearing up and everything. Now, it could have TOTALLY been because I was kinda in a mood yesterday.

Come to think of it, so was my son... think there's any correlation???

Anyway, I e-mailed it to my playgroup and another mommy group to which I belong and the response was overwhelming. There were tears and thank yous....and more tears...

So, I wanted to share it with you too (just in case, someone hasn't already):

The Invisible Mom

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'

Obviously not.

No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated suma cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read—no, devour—the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Great Job, MOM!

Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know.

This is an excerpt from Nicole Johnnson's book The Invisible Woman.

Before Your Time

Over the weekend, I received some terrible news.

Our "Moms Day Out" sitter's husband had suffered a severe heart attack while on a sales call several hours away from home. Although this was his second heart attack and he had recently undergone heart surgery for the first, he was expected to make it... if barely. There was still hope.

There were a few more e-mail updates since then, but the last one from today simply read:

More doctors were called in to meet with Mrs. H and her daughter, and told her that nothing else can be done for Mr. H.

Please pray for Mrs. H and her family for the proper guidance at this difficult time...

He is only 52 and had at lot more life ahead of him.

The last time I talked to Mrs. H, she said her husband was recovering well, but anxious to get back to work. His doctors, his wife, and even his company had advised him to take more time to rest and recuperate, but he couldn't be convinced. He was "bored" working from home and ready to get back on the road...

Apparently, this was his first (and sadly last) sales call.

Somehow, there's a bigger life lesson to be had here, but this news hit me in a very personal way. It just happened to come on the eve of the completion of my husband's big project at work...

Yes, the same big project that started so many weeks ago and kept him away on Valentine's, but allows us to host the first annual toddler golf invitational/art exhibit. The one that has regularly kept him at the office as late as 5 am only to summon him back at 9, has consumed every single weekend, and has made him a stranger to his own son.

The project is supposedly over now, but it's left me wondering about my responsibility as a wife in this situation. In the past six weeks, I've witnessed my husband's complexion ashen and his resilience weaken as he's given up eating, sleeping, and his family for this project.

He's nodded off in the middle of meals (the few times he's been home for one) and rushed off soon after because the office called with another "emergency" that had to be fixed "right now"....

May I remind you that he works in computer graphics for commercials and film, and NOT saving lives.... NOTHING in his world can possibly be that urgent, but whatever.

As much as he blames the company for putting these demands on him, he's totally complicit. What it comes down to is that he's simply not willing to push back, or for some reason, feels that he can't...

He loves his job for all the reasons everyone should and I support him in all of his ambitions. However, when neither he nor his company is willing to make reasonable demands of his time (and ours), I think it's MY job to set limits around his basic needs of food, sleep, and love, and our needs as a family.

What can I say? I don't play the quiet, long-suffering wife (a.k.a. doormat) very well. When it comes to my husband, father of my child, man I love, barely living on 2 hours of sleep every night and being pushed further, I'm going to balk and demand that he set boundaries with his office...

I won't lie. There's been a lot of fighting about this and at one point he said he felt like he was "being pulled in two different directions", which was certainly not my intention. In fact, that's the furtherest from it.

"It's just a job," he kept saying all along. "It will never be as important as my family. This is just temporary."

I really do believe that he'd rather be home with us, but this is certainly not temporary. He was like this when I met him, and he will be like this for the rest of his life. I knew when I married him that his workaholic tenancies were part of the deal. I just don't know how to be both a "supportive" and "loving" wife to someone who can't be suppressed.

When I told my husband about Mr. H and the circumstances around his forthcoming passing, he didn't take it well either. Hopefully, it will hit home.

Things That Can't Be Stated

Full belly. Warm coats.
Hold my hand crossing the road.
Clean socks with grippies.

Night light by your bed.
Don't worry. I'll be nearby.
Call if you need me.

If only, keeping
you safe and happy could be
always this easy.

Will you ever know
how much I really love you
if I go too soon?

Will they remember
to tell you that your mommy
tried her very best?

That it broke my heart
just thinking of leaving you?
Making plans for you.

Earlier this week, I started the paperwork to draw up our wills and set up legal guardianship for my son... "just in case". It's supposed to be the kind of thing you think about once and never again, but it's hard to remove myself from realization that I just may not be here to see my son grow up.

We've made the proper provisions for his care and education. We've stated our wishes for his upbringing and his future, but there's so much that a dry legal document can never express, like how I don't care if he's never the valedictorian or the star quarterback, just as long as he feels happy and loved... by us.

For more Haiku Friday, check out A Mommy Story and Playgroups are No Place for Children.

Happy New Year!

My 2008 started off with a "who-hoo", wadda'bout you?

We were fast asleep before midnight, but I didn't mind. I've come to terms with the fact that I'm not really that into "New Years" and I'm totally okay with it. In fact, I was up bright and early today for a 90 minute spinning class. See, I'm already doing good with my one obligatory resolution!

As I had mentioned before, I hadn't planned on making any huge resolutions this year. I like to think of my life as being in a constant state of improvement and planned to continue in that direction.

Then, I was feeling so feakin' great climbing all of those imaginary hills that I was supposed to be envisioning (and 90 minutes is a REALLY long time to hang out on a stationary bike) that I started wondering why I didn't make time for this before... Why am I always so "busy"?

Well, there's the perpetual housework, our "ten-parties-in-two-weeks" social life, my sick need to host every baby shower or major family function (and host it well), and run every group I belong to... and so forth.

It came down to this... I NEED TO LET IT GO!

As I was spinning away, I came up with a few more resolutions. I realized that the housework wouldn't be so monstrous if we hosted fewer parties or bought less stuff in 2008. (In fact, that would even help my other goal of staying within our household budget for once... hmmm...) Most of the mess around here is dust and clutter. Get rid of the clutter, get rid of the mess and dust. Brilliant!

I was really sad about not hosting as many parties. I love hosting parties... and, dare I say, am quite the rock star at it too, but realistically, at this point in our lives, we don't have time for polishing silver, stuffing deviled eggs, and digging wax out of candle holders when there's a toddler begging us to play at the train table with him. In the long run, playing with trains is probably more important anyhow.

I also plan to do less for other people. Yes, you read that correctly. Do less for others. I find that I do a lot of pointless things in the interest of pleasing others... Of course, I'm taking about doing the things that aren't from the heart and end up making me feel put upon and stressed.

Things like offering to host a cheesy "Southern Living at Home" party at my house, because one of the playgroup mommies saw the spring catalog on my coffee table and said she's love to go to one of those. Of course, I got the catalog at another party my neighbor threw earlier in the week. She would get a discount on anything she buys if I had my own party... Next thing I know, I'm booking something on the 22nd that I'm dreading all so two people can spend more money.

While I was on that bike this morning, it occurred to me that I didn't even like any of the stuff they were selling in the catalog and since I'll be doing with less, I decided to just cancel the party. Eureka!

Isn't one of the benefits of regular exercise clearer thinking? Well, the proof of that is right here!

In 2008, I will focus on things that are real-- spending quality time with our REAL friends, getting REAL results in terms of my fitness, and all the things that REALly matter.

Happy New Year!

The Very Merriest to You and Yours

We've attended ten parties, including my husband's birthday dinner and a wedding, in past two weeks. TEN!

I provided some sort of food or drink for three...

...purchased gifts for seven
...dressed up and did my hair for six
...dressed down for two
...didn't even care for one

...and only wore the same thing twice. It was a fabulous cocktail dress that rendered many compliments and several unsolicited comments about my boobs, so really... I didn't mind AT ALL!

That number, however, does not include my husband's office party and some dinner invitations that we've had to regretfully decline due to prior commitments/exhaustion. It's been a LOT, even for us, and we're officially partied out...

It's not that I am not grateful for all of my friends. In fact, I think I've thoroughly covered exactly how very grateful I am for all the wonderful people (and even the not so wonderful people) in my life in NaBloPoMo Parts 4, 12, 15, 18, and 27. Hubby and I love you ALL! We really, really do.

Earlier this week, I found myself exchanging a number emails with a casual acquaintance. I've known her and her family for over three years. They're very nice people and we've always been cordial with one another, but I really never found much common ground between us.

We had been at a party together, where we discussed her recent bathroom remodel. I guess she didn't get to finish a humorous story tied into how much it cost to do (because yes, someone actually asked), so she emailed me the rest of it. That led into a discussion about the punch I had made for the party, followed by an exchange of the recipe, and ended with holiday greetings and mutual "it was great to see you..." Blah, blah, blah-blah, blah, blah.

The next day we received a Christmas card from their family, to which my response was "Oh crap! Are we FRIENDS now?! We don't need any more friends!" Tongue in cheek, of course, but it's become a private joke between Hubby and I.

Unfortunately, Hubby decided to share this easily misunderstandable sentiment with some of our other friends at the wedding of another friend last night. It was met with a chilly response and I just about nudged him. I couldn't say anything though, because not two minutes before I had wondered OUT LOUD (and half drunk), "Why are all the bridesmaids the groom's high school and college friends and not the bride's..." and we were sitting with her family at the time. Ouch!

I was discretely told later that the bride didn't have anyone to ask so... Double Ouch!

I obviously didn't know the bride at all, so I have no idea if this is entirely true, but I can't even imagine a life without friends and our (Oh-kay, mostly my son's) busy social calendar.

I decided right then and there to embrace the this holiday season for what it is, a time for loved ones, and stop being so "busy". All of this celebrating should be considered a pleasure, not an obligation. I should stop bitching on my blog and enjoy it, right? Well, I plan to do just that for the next few days.

Have a very MERRY CHRISTMAS, Everyone.

Now, if you'll excuse me. I have Sunday brunch, Christmas Dinner, and a New Year's Eve party that we're hosting to prepare for... Yikes!

My pretty Christmas wreath

Learning Tolerance from Hate

Today, I want to share a quote that rings true for me.

"I have learnt silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet strange, I am ungrateful to these teachers."

Kahlil Gibran

Sometimes I forget that the people in my life who are not so pleasant to be around are worthwhile examples, too. Whether it's simple as how not to be or something as difficult as forgive and FORGET, there is always something to learn from the people who get on my nerves.

Wanting It All

If I have learned anything from this past year of being a SAHM, it's that having it all isn't nearly as important as knowing what you want. I still have guilt and I still have "what ifs", but that's just life. I wake up everyday loving what I do. For that, I am grateful.

Mommy, You're the BEST

In the past week, the blogoshere has been gushing with "I am a Good Parent" declarations, triggered by Rebecca of Girl's Gone Child, who suggests that the trend of self-deprecation is the new “I’m fat”. She's definitely on to something...

Why, I don't even think twice about posting about my insecurities as as new mom- feeling alone, and seeking validation. In my personal life, I make jokes about my inability to discipline and I'm the first one to downplay my role as primary caretaker of my son and household. I do this because I try not to take myself too seriously and musing about my mishaps and missteps has always to be crowd pleaser.

Rebecca DOES have a point about this constant self-deprecation being hurtful in a way. She writes...

That by saying I love myself and my abilities as a mother, I am somehow being arrogant, cocky. Vain? That we so easily say kind and loving things about our children and are unable to say anything kind and loving about ourselves. Don't we deserve that? Haven't we earned that right

After all, no one wants to be seen as a CompetiMommy, right? As if saying we're bad moms, makes us more approachable and more likable. Come to think of it, isn't that a bit like playing dumb so the boys will like you...

So, the answer to your question, Rebecca, is YES. Yes, we have earned the right to be proud of all of our good intentions, the quiet, blissful moments that we don't blog about, and all of the effort we put into being GOOD PARENTS.

Parenting is hard. I may not always know what I'm doing, but everything I do is out of love for my son. If no one else will tell me what a good, nay... AMAZING mom I am, it's about time that I do...

I'm a good mom because I care enough to have guilt.

I'm a good mom because I don't need baby sign language to know exactly what my son needs... I already know.

I'm a good mom because for my son I find strength and patience I never knew I had. When I had a bad day at work (when I was working), I would just get up and leave- sometimes just for a quick walk around the cube farm, sometimes for lunch, sometimes for the day... I just left until I could deal with it again. Well, I can't do that with my son. Doing a good job with him matters more to me than any project for work.

I'm a good mom because I love my son so much that I could eat him. As he leaves for work in the morning, my husband will (jokingly) remind me, "Don't eat the baby today." I never do. Still, that kind of love is scary because I know if anything were to happen to him, it would hurt that much more. Yet, I'm willing to take the risk because I can't imagine my life without him.

I'm a good mom because no matter how challenging our day has been, I still look forward doing it all again tomorrow.

And, lastly... I'm a good mom because my son tells me so- every morning when I walk into his nursery and he beams at me, every day when he reaches out to hug me, and every evening when he won't go to sleep until I kiss him good-night.

Sorry, if this isn't as fun and frivioulous as some of my previous posts, but Rebecca made me do it. (THANK YOU, REBECCA.)

Welcome to the Little Man Convention

Today, I hosted my son's birthday brunch with his Friday morning playgroup-- ALL BOYS. This would be his second first birthday party-- complete with streamers, balloons, party favors, and more CAKE!

Actually, I left the streamers up from his first "First Birthday" party two weeks ago up. Since then, I have refused having over anyone who attended that first party for fear of my being mistaken for Mrs. Havisham.

I swear, I don't have a decaying birthday cake hiding in my house somewhere.... Honest.

After promising weeks upon weeks ago to help with the party, my husband informed me (as he was leaving this morning) that he couldn't stay...

WHAT?!!! Six tiny destroyers and their mommies were due to arrive at my house at any moment. We just ran out of coffee, my son was getting into everything, and the fruit that I had repeatedly asked my husband to cut up for the party last night was still intact....

Okay. Breathe. Not a problem. Besides, it's starting to rain and playgroup usually gets started late anyway. We still have time. No one will get here until....

... and that's when the doorball rang.

Of course, everyone arrived for our party EARLY. I suppose the e-mail I sent a few days ago with directions and asking them to "come hungry" was the proper motivation to get everyone "up and at 'em "on an otherwise dreary day.

Ah, or maybe they heard rumors about the FABULOUS parties I throw and couldn't wait to experience every minute of the fun... No?

Okay, fine... Maybe they were just hungry and there were promises made of homemade baked goods, fresh coffee, juices, and delicious breakfast casserole.

My son attended another little boy's first birthday party yesterday and was clearly over the entire concept by this morning. Presents, "Happy-Birthday-to-you", a cake, a candle... yeah, yeah, yeah. Been there, done that, thankyouverymuch.

He was totally unimpressed with his cake and started crying when I wouldn't let him touch the burning candle. In frustration, he turned away to hide. This is while people were still singing to him, by the way.

His tantrum undaunted by the piece of cake placed in front of him, my son continued to wail and scream until I picked him up, frosting-filled hands and all. With smeared cake on my shirt and in my hair, I had no choice but to take him into another room while our guests fended for themselves. They did just fine; I wouldn't have expected anything less from a group of mommies...

Toys were strewn about every which way throughout my house and one child perprtually crying for the one toy another had. Each boy being in a different stage of seperation anxiety, there was always one looking for his mommy and one mommy always looking for a sippy cup, a shoe, or a wet wipe. There were noses to be wiped and diapers be to changed. With one little guy opening my oven, another digging in the kitchen trash, and yet another trying to break the baby-proofing... I was about to kill my husband for leaving for work today.

As one point in the party, the boys were happily playing together and one of the moms made a comment about "our babies." Another mom corrected her, reminding all of us that they are not babies any more. They are clearly little boys.

As they gather around my son's play table, each one completely focused on his own little thing and looking so much like his respective dad, it was like spying on a little man convention. I swear I just brought home a 6 pounds, 6 ounce baby the other day.

And that's why I do it...

Instant Karma

This morning, I took my son to playtime at Gymboree. It's open to kids of all ages, provided they're currently enrolled in one of their classes.

A girl about three years old ran over to play with my son. She took a toy from him when her mom, "Braggedy Ann", swooped in to remind her to "play nicely". I complimented the little girl on how well she shared after that and the mom turned to me to ask...

Braggedy Ann: How old is he? (pointing to my son).

Me: Just turned a year on Wednesday.

Braggedy Ann: Is he walking?

Me: On his own? Not yet, but he holds on...

Braggedy Ann: Well, my daughter walked at 9...er, 8 months old. My son too. (points to younger boy).

Me: Oh really.

Braggedy Ann: Yes, 8 months. Walking. Both of my children started walking at 8 months old.

Me: I see.

Not that I asked, by the way...

My son, having lost interest in the conversation days ago, left to play with something else. I just smiled and took off after him.

A little while later, Braggedy Ann's boy bolted for the parking lot when someone opened the door to leave. I happened to be standing right outside at the time. Luckily, I was there to catch and release him back to his "Smug-mmy".

That is, when she eventually realized he had taken off without her...

Hmm, maybe it's not so great when they learn how to walk...no, RUN away so early, is it?

photo by tobasari1

There, there. Isn't not so bad after all?

I'm not going to lie to you... I've spent the last few weeks going through a bit of a personal crisis.

No, nothing happened per say... In fact, it's a whole lot of humbug that I don't really want to talk about it, hence the "personal".

Yes, not even with you, Internet. Sorry.

This afternoon, I was with my younger sister talking about life and I made some comment about how hard mine has been lately...

She turned to me and said, "What's so hard about your life? You get to stay home with your kid, which you love..."

She incidentally also takes care of kids all day except they are not hers, she gets paid for it, and they are very special. Her job IS demanding and I even though worry about her sometimes, I know she does a great job!

I was indignant upon being told this and defended myself before completely changing the subject. How dare she not take me seriously? I mean it is HARD to be a SAHM... Whah!

Upon reflecting on this conversation later in the day, I realized that she was RIGHT. I don't have any reason to be complaining and snapped right out of my funk.

Sometimes you just need a slap in the face and a dose of reality to quit the self pity. My life is far from perfect, but hey, so is everyone's else's...

I got plenty to be grateful for and the first of which is the privilage of having a son that I can hang out with all day long.

Thanks, Sis.

photo by dejay181

I know why the caged bird... eats french fries

This is what I get for being judgmental. Life lesson: Don't be judgmental.

I'm not going to lie to you, Internet. It's been a rough week. My son isn't quite walking yet, but he's close. I can tell that being on the verge of all that freedom is driving him crazy.

Nope, the main thing he mastered this week is how to exert his independence, which I think will help motivate him

He's learned that... 1. If he really doesn't want to do something, he shouldn't have to and 2. he should just go for whatever it is that he wants in life . While these are very important life lessons to master at such an early age, it hasn't made my life any easier.

Instead of getting upset with my son, I'm more mad at myself for all the things that I used to stupidly believe about parenthood as they have all come back to haunt me this week.

There's a term for this type of behavior... The SanctiMommy.

Mom-101 sums it up this way....

While the Sanctimommy is quick to deem others unfit mothers based on (really, in the end) superficial decisions like the cleanliness of a child's nose or the YoBaby in the grocery cart, she's reluctant to look as closely at herself. At her own attitude. At what seems to me to be anger and angst and a general unhappiness directed at a world around her which she can't control.

Oh and here is the part where I learn my lessons... and guess what? There are only three of them. Not everything is going to come in "fives"...

There will probably be more to come in the future. I'll keep you posted.

1. Babies cry and they don't care where they are...

My husband and I used to "tsk-tsk" silently and roll our eyes at one another anytime we saw a child being loud or unruly in public. We used to ask one another idiotic things like, "How can they just ignore their kid crying? That's supposed to be 'parenting'? They need to take responsibility... blah, blah, blah..."

If I turned around and went home EVERY time my child was being loud, I would never leave the freaking house!

Sometimes he cries just because I told him, "No, you can't play with my cell phone right now" or "You shouldn't eat Mommy's keys"...

He cries because he is ready to go home for a nap and the waiter isn't quite listening when I say "I need my check NOW".

He cries when he doesn't want to sit in his stroller and I don't him to play on the filthy floor...

You get the picture. I'm not out and about with my tired/cranky/impatient child because I want to torture you and me and the whole world make three. I'm out because if I don't finish the grocery shopping now, no one will and there will be no supper.

Yes, I am very aware that my child is being loud and, trust me, it hurts me more than it hurts you.

2. Spotless house + baby = nice try.

I never thought I'd live to see the day when my husband comes home and I gleefully (and sincerely) exclaim, "Great, you're home. I'm so excited that I can finally CLEAN THE BATHROOM like I've been wanting to all day!"

When I tried to clean the bathroom earlier in the day, the boy wasn't to keen to staying more than two feet away from me and was a little too curious about that can of "Scrubbing Bubbles"...

Who was I kidding when I believed that being home all day meant there was no excuse to have a messy house? I mean, "couldn't you be cleaning during nap time... geez, how lazy can you be?"

Okay, I'm not saying that I used to feel this way about other people's housekeeping. I mostly put this pressure on myself, but no more.

As great thinker, Voltaire, once observed: “Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good.”

Taking this to heart, I now use nap time to blog because I'm not stupid enough to run the vacuum. hehe.

My house is a wreck because I no sooner put something away than my son is into the next thing. Whether it's all the Tupperware and colanders or every single baby wipe in the house, it can be found in a pile, on my floor... I usually spend the day picking up after him anyway, but it never ends.

The other day, he hid behind an ottoman and pulled every Kleenex out of the box. Maybe if I hadn't dozed off on the sofa, this wouldn't have happen or I could have at least intercepted sooner but, I prefer to blame the lack of baby-proofing on the Kleenex box.

For shame, Kimberly-Clark. For shame.

3. Giving him this french fry will give us 10 minutes of silence. What'll it be?

Today at lunch, my son got bored with his food and decided he wanted to play on the floor. His way of "expressing" this was turning around in his highchair and leaning backwards over the side and, again, screaming. When I tried to help him up, he stood up IN the highchair while still strapped in...

I normally don't feed him anything but good, wholesome food, but there it was... on my plate... my last hope.

I swore I'd never give my kids french fries, but today, in desperation, I handed him one in the hopes it could distract him while I tried to pay for lunch. I didn't expect him to actually eat it, so much as be amused by it...

It worked! He was silent for a full ten minutes as he explored this new specimen like a food critic. He bit it, contemplated the flavor, cleansed his pallet with a Cheerio, and studied what was left until all of it was gone. It was really cute, but the best part... we finished lunch in peace, I paid the check, and we left without incident.

Obviously, I don't make it a habit to feed my kid crap, but at the moment I finally understood why other parents do.

Incidentally, he first pulled that leaning backwards and screaming stunt while riding in a grocery cart earlier in the week. There were no french fries readily available for immedate consumption. We were practically chased out of the store with sticks and torches.

In spite of the fact that he's becoming more and more like a certain little devil from Tasmania, I surprisingly have all the patience in the world for him. I think it's love (sigh)

I don't exactly overlook his "questionable" behavior. I stand my ground and try to keep the consequences consistent. Beyond that, I'm not sure how else to "discipline" a baby. Do you?

Photo by boonkit

Expectations

This weekend, we had a date night courtesy of my parents. They came over to watch our son, while we enjoyed a much-needed evening with our friends. Our friends, who have a son that's only a few weeks older than ours, managed to find a sitter too. We had so much fun being "just us" again that we were giddy!

We get together with this couple on a regular basis, with and without our kids. Aside from genuinely liking them, having kids so close in age makes it easier to relate to one another. It's probably no surprise that I find myself ALOT more comfortable socializing with other parents, especially when we have our child in tow.

For one thing, other parents UNDERSTAND... I'm less embarrassed by my son's restaurant antics in front of them. Unlike our childless friends, other parents don't awkwardly gape in silence as we work to distract our son. Instead, they either offer help or commiserate as their child does the same. Words such as "oh, gotta get to get home to relieve the sitter/Mom and Dad..." are not met with mocking and the need for a speedy escape are acknowledged and respected. Other parents don't look on bored and complacent as you have to attend to your child's needs and, bst of all, they forgive the brain farts, cluelessness, and possible lack of captivating dinner conversation brought on by the sleep deprivation. They already know what you mean.

Early in my marriage, I was determined NOT to be that girl that stopped hanging out with her single friends. I reached out to every one of my many circles of friends on a regular basis; never missing an opportunity to meet for drinks, have a girls night, or whatever. This lifestyle was fun for a while, but my husband and I grew tired of it quickly. Honestly, it was exhausting to keep up and we were losing sight of what really mattered.

Eventually, we made a mutual decision that it was time to move on and it was time for more. We started thinking of things in terms of what (and who) was worth our while, and which was better to leave behind.

There are some people that we just outgrew. While we may have had a great time in grad school together, we really don't share any of the same passions and interests now. Then, there were those that just never changed... Together, my husband and I learned that some friendships are meant to just last for the meantime, not for a lifetime, and that's okay.

I still keep in touch with my dear friends (when I can) and pretty much purged the rest. Our time is too much at a premium to spend with people we don't truly enjoy...

photo by ohcaptain