Crunchity, crunch, crunch

Today's word is:  Crunch

I love the word crunch.  It's one of my favorite onomatopoeias. Crunch, crunch, crunch.

It's the sound my neck makes when I twist it just so.  Caramel corn crackles and crunches loudly in my ears when I'm at the movies.  Packed snow has a very distinctive crunch when it comes in contact with my boots.

Sometimes, though, crunch has a different meaning.  It's "crunch" time.  Oh, you know, that critical time when you cannot put "it" off any longer--whatever "it" is.  And I've only got myself to blame.  I get myself into this situation every semester.  I delude myself into thinking I have all the time in the world to finish something, but what I'm really doing is procrastinating, thus leading to crunch time.

And it's not just at work with grading papers or planning lessons, but it happens at home with the kids too.  Have you ever told your kids, "We're leaving in 5 minutes!" but then you go back and begin that bathroom scrubbing project that you've been putting off?  Then all of a sudden, "CRUNCH TIME." 

"Let's go, let's go, let's go.....!" you exclaim as if you'd been waiting all along and they were procrastinating.  I guess it's a learned behavior.

Or maybe crunch time is when your son comes out wearing the ratty, old underwear that he had when he was 3, that you can't for the life of you figure out why it's still in his drawer.  Then you run off to do the laundry.

Or maybe crunch time is the 15 minutes before bedtime that you try to squeeze in piano practice.  "If only she'd focus."

For me, I think I'm craving down time so badly that I tend to repress any actual work I have to do.  Maybe if I stop thinking about it, it will go away.....

How does crunch time manifest itself in your house?

In a word...31 days worth

So the theme at National Blog Posting Month for March is "In a Word."  Words are the very essence of what I do--at work, when teaching, while engaging with my children, in communication with anyone.  This March, I'm going to explore the presence of these words in my life and post about how they inspire, enrage, comfort, and perplex me.

I'm convinced that I can find a plethora of words to expound upon in the coming days, but I'm not at all under the illusion that I can cover the gamut of the diction related to raising children, working, or balancing a desire for individual fulfillment with the responsibilities of running a household and educating first-time college students.  That's why I want to know what words spring to your mind that describe your day-to-day experience.

Is it HAPPY?

CHALLENGING?

BEFUDDLED?

PEACEFUL?

CHAOTIC?

INCORRIGIBLE?

I want to know--what's your word of the day?

There's Something About That January Freshness....

Last January, I sat down with 2 friends, and made a list of goals for 2010.  The categories on the form were:

Spiritual Unfoldment

Well Being

Loving Relationships

Abundant Expression (this means $$, I think)

Creative Expression

Other (for me, this is mostly "work", but it's also about integrity)

This list, with  insightful hopeful predictions for my behavior throughout the year, did drive the way I lived my life a little.  I felt like there was some structure to what I was supposed to be doing, and that I had a reference if I found myself, like I often do in times of extreme overwhelm or self-doubt, unfulfilled, stagnant, or anxious.  And while I did not accomplish everything on the list, I did go back and look at this list periodically throughout the year and try to move forward in each of my little goals.

Now, it's a whole fresh, new year.  I love the new beginnings of it--my willingness to start over.  January seems like the perfect time to do that.  My kids went back to school this week, and I don't need to be back on campus to teach until next Monday, so this is my week to do those projections, to finish up those tasks begun last year whose incompletion continually fill me with a pending sense of failure.  And, I'm going to think about what I can do differently this year to make my life more balanced and calm.

So, here goes:

Spiritual Unfoldment:
Last year I vowed to be less concerned about what people thought of me and more caring and useful to others is a selfless way, not just to be noticed for my accomplishments.  I do tend to have such an ego.  I think I want to have the neatest house, the most well-behaved and academically accomplished children, the most romantic relationship, and the most interesting creative endeavors, or at least my mind wants people to think I do. These are really just tricks my mind plays on me to trip me up in a real world.  They're not entirely possible or desireable.

Last year's goal was meant to make a dent in that backwards, ingrained thinking.  I am turning more to the universe, God, spiritual guiding light, whatever you want to call it, to counter the self-grandiose instincts that my mind still wants to lean toward.  This year, I want to continue that same practice.  It really does feel good.

Well Being:
Last year's goals in this category were all about eating and exercise.  I did get a pretty good handle on the eating last year, and the exercise is going pretty well too.  It's just something that I do everyday, not something I need to start again every month, year, Monday.  This is a huge relief, by the way.  I've struggled with weight and body image for years, and to have it be something that occurs in my life more effortlessly is a huge blessing.  I do have to work on everything else in my life that makes me anxious, because if I don't, my tendency is to isolate and shut down, and that means no exercise and excess food--feels yucky, and I will continue to make this a life-long goal.

Loving Relationships:
This is where I need the most work.  I have a significant goal for this year in terms of my relationships with each of my children that I wanted to work on last year, but dismally failed.  I want to spend planned, individual one-on-one time with each child during which they get my undivided attention.  There always seems to be something else that pulls me away from them--like reading (which I love and will steal away to do any time I can), writing, grading papers (and with online classes, this happens in front of the computer screen--definitely not undivided attention to kids), and all the distracting social networking with Facebook, Twitter, blogs, etc.  Not to mention that they are both completely obsessed with Pokemon right now, and I really don't want to hear about how to get past this or that level on the video game.

I do definitely spend time with the kids, but it's always with them together and that means bickering over who's going to pick what activity, song on the radio, snack-food item, you name it.  Constant battle.  So this year, one-on-one time.  Check back on this one....

Also, on last year's goals list, I said that I would say one positive parenting observation to DG everyday.  I didn't do this either.  But it's still a good goal, one that I can realistically say that if I follow through on it, our family life will be infinitely better.  I know that complementing the kids on what they're doing right works wonders to get them act appropriately, whereas nagging has the complete opposite effect.  I'm learning that my nagging pattern with DG is having the exact same effect.  He deserves better.  He's a great dad, and I need to let him know.


Abundant Expression:
I think this is really a buzz phrase for bringing in more in your life.  Last year, this was about money.  Not so much bringing in more, but better managing what we've got.  Budgets are always elusive for me, but without one, or at least some semblance of knowledge of what is coming in and what is going out, I can end up buying things I don't need, thereby creating more chaos in my life.

This year, I'm organizing every cabinet, closet and drawer in the house.  This means I'll have an inventory of what we have and I won't end up buying 3 different sets of Easter hand towels because I can't find the original set I bought. This relates to bringing in more by actually getting by with less.  More then becomes, instead of material things, order, peace, and time to enjoy my surroundings instead of spinning in the clutter.

Creative Expression:
So much belongs in this category: writing, scrapbooking, knitting, sewing, photography, dancing. It's hard to fit in all of these creative hobbies, but this year, I intend to find time for them all, even if it's just a little time on each one. I think it's important to do something creative every day, and while I can't obviously do all of these things in each day, I can knit one row in the scarf for T1, and I can take pictures of the pets with different exposures to learn more about the camera. I don't need to be an expert in any of these activities, but I do want to think, at the end of the day, "I created something today," and that will be enough.

Other (called work goals above):
So really anything can go here. Work wise, I plan to slow down, focus, and cross off 3 things from my project to-do list every day. I love my job, and sometimes it can feel overwhelming.  Three things a day is doable, workable.

Other goals for 2011? Keep commitments, be kinder to others (especially my kids), practice patience.

I don't think these goals are necessarily lofty or unobtainable, and I don't even think they're the kinds of resolutions that I'll look back at next year and say, "Wow! I really didn't do any of this." These are ongoing ways of living that can enhance my day to day life and make each day have a little more purpose. And I'm ready to take on 2011 with purpose.

I did it

Well, I did it.  I finished National Blog Posting Month with this, my 30th post in 30 days.  I am humbled by the perseverance required to write and publish everyday, and I learned a few things:

1.  I can find some topics to write about that might be of interest to myself and maybe a couple of others.

2.  The practice of writing everyday is very good for my writing skills.  It's a lesson in craftsmanship.  One has to think about structure, vocabulary, purpose and breadth.

3.  While the practice of writing everyday is good for writing, publishing everyday is not.  There were very many days this month when it pained me to push that publish button.  I know that if I had more time, if I thought a little bit more, my posts would be more interesting.  I mean, who really wants to hear every, little mundane detail of someone else's life? For me, it's better to write when I have something to say.

4.  I can show my children through my example that when you commit to something, you must fulfill this commitment.  A couple of times when I wanted to quit, I knew that I'd be sending the wrong message.

So now that it's over, what am I going to do with all that free time?  Maybe I'll pay a little more attention to my kids.  Maybe I'll be able to read more books.  Maybe I'll have that time to organize my office.Maybe I'll think of more blog topics.  I don't think I'll publish everyday anymore, but I do know that I'll keep writing.  It's what I do.

Thanks for coming along with me this month.  It's been quite a ride.  Now, I'm going to hibernate......

Almost There

Wow.  I can't believe it.  I've got one more week and one day before the end of National Blog Posting Month. I can't believe I've made it this far, posting everyday.  Meanwhile, I'm not getting ANY sleep, but hey, that's what coffee's for.  And my office looks like this.

Can you see DG buried there?

Damn, no wonder I lost my USB drive with ALL my work on it.

Oh, yeah, and there's this: last month's camping gear, a letterpress print and some knitting.

This is what it's come to, but I'm almost there.  And you know that innane saying?  "Dull women have immaculate homes."  I must be freakin' fascinating.....

Bloggy Math

Here's some bloggy math for this tired poster on this busy Monday morning.

Daylight Savings Time X  2 kids  =  up at dawn yesterday.  (Result is mommy crashing into bed at 9 pm).

6 potentially lengthy blog posts  -  time to percolate them in my head  =  short post today.

Today's work stack

 

 

 

 

 

 

Textbook reviews  +  quizzes to be graded  +  journals to be read  -  long morning hours  X  desire to exercise  =  Time To Get Going.

See you all tomorrow!

Why I Should Not Go to the Mall

The other day, I had to give a presentation to the college's Board of Trustees and several school superintendents during a 7:30 am (!) breakfast meeting promoting the partnership between local high schools and the college where I teach.  This could only mean one thing:  I had to get a pair of pantyhose.

Since I have a super amount of autonomy in my job, no one says anything about how I dress for my job everyday.  No one cares when I wear faded jeans to class because I have  to shoot out of there right after to pick up my kids because it's an early dismissal day and we're going straight to soccer practice.  Business dress in academia is a much different animal than in the corporate world.  However, the "power breakfast" with people who actually do make decisions about education that affect lots of families kinda does require that I dress up a little.

So I head to the mall in the 30 minutes that I have between getting off work and picking up the kids.  I know that I need just the one thing, but something happens when I get in the mall.  Oooh.  It's shiny!  Music lures me into stores!  Fashion beckons!  I'm a sucker for a wildly stylish store window!  I try to put on my blinders and go straight to the hosiery section in Nordstrom, but I can't help it start thinking about the other things I need that I could squeeze out of this trip.  Concealer.  Lip stick.  Hair product.  (These things seem to run out at the most inopportune times, right?) 

On this trip, I actually get out of the mall unscathed, pantyhose in hand, concealer and hair products in a little bag for good measure.

But yesterday was another story.

I was at Starbucks with T2 while T1 was at karate.  I saw a woman wearing this:

This is the Interlock Asymmetrical Dress from American Apparel.  American Apparel is a place where I don't usually shop because the clothes are for tiny, small-busted adolescents and I am DECIDEDLY, not that.  I'm a middle-aged woman  who is as stocky as a football player and taller than pretty much ever woman I know.  One-shoulder dresses are something that I NEVER wear.  If I can't wear a bra, it doesn't make it into my closet.

The woman at Starbucks, however, was pretty much the same size as me.  She was rocking the dress with a pair of leggings and ballet flats, and it looked really cute.  All of a sudden, I had to have this dress.  I plotted a trip to the mall to get it.  Cars on the road were not driving fast enough.  I almost crashed into someone pulling out of a parking place in my haste to get. in. there.  I hustled through the department store with the massive make-up event that had homecoming-going teenagers lined up for free makeovers so I could get the dress that I NEEDED.  I did get the dress, and it looked as flattering on me as I had hoped.  Sometimes, when you see something, you just know.  That's how it was.

But then I needed more.  Spanx!  Stylist's tape to hold the dress up!  Wait!  There's some cute jeans.  Oohh, shiny things again.  Stop. Stop. Stop.  I calmly went to the counter, bought the dress, and quickly got out of the mall.  Once home, I found I had everything I needed to wear with it.  I wore it scrunched up as a top over a straight skirt (again, middle-aged women should not wear mini-skirts) to a wedding we went to last night.  I felt confident and comfortable among the super-skinnies at the wedding. 

Shopping season is coming, and I know I'll probably find myself in the mall again in the next 6 weeks.  I need to remember a mantra like, "buying gifts, buying gifts, buying gifts."  Distractions aside, I think I'll make it.  I just hope no other super-stylish must-have clothing item makes it way into my mind's eye between now and then.

A blog post a day keeps the cobwebs away

This year, I've decided to join NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) which traditionally takes place in November.  The idea is simple--you post something every day for 30 days.  What?!?! you say.  Has she lost her job?  No, more like I might have lost a part of my mind, but actually, that's not it at all.

I'm a writing teacher (academic writing, you know, like compositions and stuff--not so creative).  I tell my students daily that the best way to be a better writer is to write often.  NaBloPoMo is exactly this kind of exercise--an exercise in perseverance that one hopes will lead to better writing. 

So I'm going to write. a lot. November is one of the most exciting months in our house as the twins birthday falls in November, Thanksgiving always leads to lots of interesting family drama that could be fun to read (I mean, who doesn't have drama surrounding Thanksgiving?), and Hanukkah falls early this year.  Yay.  Hopefully this means I'll have lots to say.

NaBloPoMo is a way for me to keep up with the practice.  If you get this blog through your email, feel free to just delete them as they come through every day, or browse and discard.  Whatever works, but don't feel obligated read all of my innane musings mostly stemming from the crap I think about while driving around all day.  It's shaping up to be a rocky month...

I Have an Obligation to Vote

Today is election day.  Last night, I talked about the ballot measures with DG, read some blogs with various picks on the candidates and issues, marked my ballot, and placed it in a place in my work bag that I know will make it out the door.  Ever since I was 18 years old, I have voted in every national primary and general election.  I feel I have an obligation to vote--as a citizen, a woman, an educator, and a mother.

Don't worry. I'm not going to get all political on you.  I would describe myself as not very political at all.  I'm not that person at a party who starts a conversation with, "Can you believe what those yahoos are doing in congress?"  I quietly have my beliefs and try to stay out of the conversation. Except for those ubiquitous bashing political ads.  Hate them.  Kinda makes my stomach turn, and even more detrimental, makes me shut down and become mistrusting.  Political rally-er, I am not.

But if you really think about it, most people practice things in their lives that can be construed as a little political.  As moms, we make decisions about what we're going to feed our children--to breastfeed or not--organic or not.  We make decisions about education--public or private school.  To others around us, these decisions can be seen as a progression of our political agenda. It's based on our values, the way we want our children to have the best lives they can--often better than the lives we've had.  I mean, even as a member of the PTA, I am a part of an organization that lobbies for children and good education practices.  As moms, we are our children's best proponents.

As a college professor, I try to let my students know that voting is one of the most important things they can do to advance their own beliefs.  So many of my students in the suburban community college where I work feel like voting is something they don't feel qualified to do.  They're just 18.  They don't understand the propositions or the smear campaigns of the candidates (well, let's face it--who does?).  And I tell them that is precisely the point of college.  To learn about their world and to have a say in its future.  They say, "But no matter what I say, politicians are going to do whatever they want, so voting or not--it doesn't matter."  Arrggghh, I sigh.  Apathy.  No, no, no.  Imagine what leaders might do if you did not have a voice.  Voting assures that differing opinions are brought to everyone.  Your voice matters.

I read a quote by Thomas Paine that says, "Those who expect to reap the blessings of freedom must undergo the fatigue of supporting it."  Fatigue means work.  The suffragists were tireless in their efforts.  As a woman, I feel I owe it to them to learn about a campaign and vote.  I have a responsibility to support my freedom and the right that they fought so hard to gain.

So today, when I pick up my kids, we'll march over to the polling booths, place the ballot in the little hole-puncher-thingy (I know, I think that's the official name for it), and fulfill my obligation.  Whatever the outcome of the election, I feel good knowing that I am modeling good citizenship for my children.  Who knows, I might even hand over that little "I Voted" sticker to them.

Toppling Plates Revisited

So the balance theme continues to permeate my posts, and sometimes, I gotta say, I find it so redundant.  I mean EVERY mom deals with this, right?  Meanwhile, maybe that's why it gets so much attention--because we all deal with it.  As an older mom, I had a lifetime of experience before I had kids.  When your life changes so dramatically, and you keep trying to have parts of the old life peppered into the new one, there's going to be some roadblocks.  I'm getting more creative in navigating roadblocks and finding detours that I didn't even know existed.

I took some actions last week to try to get past my roadblocks and find fulfillment in my varied life. (I know--this is a quality problem--sometimes I feel like I don't even have a right to complain because my life is so blessed, but here goes anyway.)

First, I wanted to try going offline for a while. No reading and commenting on blogs, no Twitter (okay--that one's easy to fit in, so I only stayed away from that for 3 days), no Facebook.  I found I was focused and productive in my job and present with my children.  I was in mono-tasking mode.  Felt very old school, but strangely rewarding--for a time.

I assessed things that are important to me.  Is it important that my kids get to every single soccer practice or dance class in the week?  Not really.  What is important to me is taking care of myself physically, emotionally, and creatively.  I have one of those unfortunate, narcissistic personality traits of wanting other people to see me as a vibrant and valuable participant in all I do.  In all the roles of my life--wife, mother, professor, blogger, crafter, writer, cook, and volunteer--I want people to see that I'm doing a good job.  And while this has always been important to me, I am starting to shift toward seeing what I do as good enough for me regardless of what anyone else thinks.

I made a schedule.  In order to fit in everything I want to do in my day, I had to come to the realization that I can't do everything everyday.  It's got to be compartmentalized.  Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday-- work out.  Tuesday, Thursday, Friday--writing.  Like that.  Scheduling is what I hound down my students' throats on a daily basis.  It's about time I tried it myself.

I forgave myself.  I can't be all things to all people.  I'm a perfectionist, and trying to stay the perfect everything is exhausting and demoralizing.  I downsizing my big personality.

I don't know how long this new "c'est la vie" attitude will last, but I'm going to keep working on it.

When the Spinning Plates Begin to Topple

I work at a job that I love.  After a disappointing undergraduate experience that I barely passed, I finally found my passion in my late 20s and decided to go for it.  This meant another 3 years of graduate school, teaching part-time at 3 or 4 different community colleges for a few more years as a "freeway flyer," and finally landing a tenured position teaching (as opposed to "publishing") at an institution of higher learning a full 11 years after I finished my undergraduate degree.

I remember sitting in my office in my first semester and the president of the college, a good 'ol boys' good 'ol boy, came in to see me, and, in the course of our conversation, he said, "You know, this is the best job in the world.  And even more so for a woman (as an aside, what you need to know about this guy is that he later was removed from a Chancellorship for sexual harassment and indiscretions. Not really the most tactful with the ladies).  There's a lot of flexibility when you have your children."  Well, of course I was offended.  "What?" I thought.  "Do you have any idea what I went through to land this job?  There were 120 applicants for my job.  If you think for one minute I'm going to throw it away for a life of wiping snotty noses, you've got another thing coming, buddy."  Besides, I was single--no sign of a husband or children on the horizon, so I was good, I thought. 

But I did get married, and I did have children.  And he was right.  I took off for 6 months after the babies were born.  I taught at night so I could be home with them during the day.  I taught online, logging in at night and on weekends and in snippets of time between feedings and diaper changes.  I do work outside the home now, so I use the after-school program a few days a week.  I can mold my schedule so that I can stay at work late a couple of days and still be available to drive the kids around to their throngs of extra curricular activities.

This is dreamy, is it not?  It's the ideal situation that so many working moms crave--a chance to be fulfilled and stimulated intellectually while still being able to be the nurturing, available caregiver.  I presumably have the best of both worlds.  If that's the case, then why do I feel like I'm floundering in both of these areas for which I have a huge responsibility?  The balance I'm so craving seems far outside my reach right now.

I recently read a report on the myth of multitasking. The report states that people don't technically use their brains doing more than one thing at a time, but rather, their brains are actually shifting in rapid-fire succession between things. I feel like this is what I'm doing all the time.  I mean, even in the course of writing this post, I've had to get up to let the dog out and pause to give my son some homeopathic drops for the cough that is keeping him up and in my face. Not only am I physically torn away from the moment, but my brain is rapidly moving back and forth like a schizophrenic metronome.  I am, therefore, failing a little bit at everything I do.  I don't want to be perfect, but I would like to feel a little more peace.

Recently I found myself wanting to retire from my job--not quit, not get another job--retire.  Obviously a momentary lapse in reasoning and logic, right?  I was longing for more time to read and write for my own personal fulfillment, and retirement seemed the only reasonable way that this could happen?  Clearly I've got to make some changes.  What those need to be, I don't know.

But I do know this.  I have an obligation to both my job and my family.  I have to keep the job (without it, the family would not have health insurance) and I have to raise the kids. I have a responsibility to be present and wholly focused on each one when I'm engaged with it.  I need to make space in my life for those little moments that absolutely make time race.

How can I do this?  Am I just chasing the mythological life of the Supermom?  Will my brain explode as I try to tweet about my kids' morning routine while preparing for my class while driving in the car?  Something's gotta give. 

How do you balance personal fulfillment with parenting? 

"Mr. D, your house is on fire!"

"Hang up and call 911! I'm on my way" were the words I heard my husband scream as I was on the other line with his assistant last Tuesday.  "The housekeeper called," the assistant said.  "Your house is on fire."

Shock. Stumble.  No.  It can't be.  There must be some mistake.  This can't be happening.  I hung up the phone and went back in my office.  "I think I need to go home," I quietly said as my co-workers started to rally me out the door.

These are not the words that you're ever supposed to hear.  Disaster is something that befalls other people, and you sympathize, you send aid, you help them recover, but it doesn't happen to you.  In my mind's eye, as I tried coolly to drive, I could see the flames melting my children's toys, my computer, all the memories of my life in photo albums and irreplaceable heirlooms.  I imagined being homeless, trying to explain to my children when they came home from school that we'd rebuild our life, that this was a way for a fresh start.  We'd be okay.  Then I thought it can't be that bad.  Stop going to the darkest, bleakest possibility.  After all, the fire department was already on its way.  The fire would be out by the time I got home.

I called DG.  He sighed, "It's okay, the fire's out.  Just get home and we'll deal with what we have to deal with."

I pulled up to my house as the fire engine was pulling away.  I've seen this in the movies before; the main character drives down her street like she's done a million times before and sees the fire truck in front of her house.  The same pit in my stomach rose into my throat.  I tried to keep from crying.

DG and my housekeeper were in the garage.  Burned debris was all over the driveway.  Water pooled in places and trickled down into the gutter.  "Thank God you're okay," I whimpered as I threw down my things and embraced my long-time housekeeper, the woman who brings gifts for my children every new year on 3 Kings day as is the custom in her country, Mexico, the woman who has been a part of our family for 15 years.  "I tried to put it out, but when I put water on it, it got bigger."

"Thank you for saving our house," I said.

We were amazingly lucky.  The fire burned a pile of things we were storing by the side of our house.  An old dog crate, some toddler high chairs that attach to the table, boxes, potting soil, planting pots and mulch.  As the flames rose up the wall and over the roof, they only burned external items.  The electric meter was burned, the tankless water heater was fried, and a ceiling spot light in the eaves was melted, but nothing structural was damaged.  The fire was against the wall and never entered the house. 

The fire department did a thorough investigation.  They went into the attic and took temperature measurements.  Our electrician came out and checked our circuit breakers that turned off during the fire, saving the house from an electrical fire.  The house was fine.  We were fine.  In a matter of 20 minutes from the time the fire started to the time it was out, we were fine.

How could this have happened?  I wondered about all the junk I piled into that space, never once thinking that it could be dangerous.  The fire department thinks a spark might have charged from a battery we had stored there for an electric scooter (you know, the kind that's like a wheelchair we used when my mom visited when she could still walk a little).  Maybe it was from the potting soil or fertilizer.  Just a hot patch with a piece of glass that caught the sun just right on the pile of what I now know was kindling?  We'll never know.  They put the cause as "indeterminate." 

Our lives could have been irreversibly changed by an "indeterminate" cause.  The possibility of what could have happened was infinitely worse than what did.  DG and I followed nearer each other for the rest of the day.  I hugged the children a little tighter when I picked them up from school.  I thanked our housekeeper again and again for her quick thinking.  If she hadn't been there...if this had happened on a Monday or Wednesday when we were at work....

But it didn't.  The forces in the universe that make things happen when they do must have been looking out for us.  Call it God or whatever you want, something went right that day, and I am so grateful.

"She said what?!?!" -- Confessions of a Mom-Gossip

Many of my friends and I became mothers around the same time.  Most of my closest friends these days are those who I met when my kids were babies.  It's funny because I seem to be looking, constantly searching for camaraderie, from people who share my experience or who have been through the same experience so that I can learn from them.  But I'm learning a valuable lesson from this searching.  No one shares your exact same experience, and while other mothers will have struggles with the same issues I struggle with, I can't base my actions or opinions on what others' actions are.  I must make my own way. 

I say this because I've been thinking a lot about how moms tend to be in competition with each other over the best way to nurture, feed, educate, and even diaper their children (see the discussion over at Mommywords.)  One mom feeds her children only nutritious food with nary a sugary snack in sight and only organic fruits and vegetables; another mom attachment-parents her baby while another is Ferber-ing and night weaning; in the last 2 decades, the classic SAHM vs. working mom debate has reached mammoth proportions; public school, private school, home school; television or not.  It's constant--everywhere--especially in the blogosphere.

I have found myself caught up in this gossip mill sometimes.  I've said, "I would NEVER...." and "I can't believe she...."  I've searched like-minded individuals who have shared my opinions and unknowingly, under the guise of making more sense and resolve out of my own decisions, have bashed unsuspecting mothers whose choices are different from mine.  I've made comments based on my beliefs without thinking about how others might feel criticized.  This behavior has weighed very heavy on my mind lately.  I feel so badly about my past gossipy tendencies, and I am making a change. 

My daughter has very strong opinions and never hesitates to voice them as she sees fit.  I practice reflecting her feelings back to her, in a very neutral way, so that she knows she's been heard and acknowledged.  However, I almost always follow that reflective listening with a "but...." and then spew forth my own opinion and rationalization or belief that is meant to get her to think beyond her feelings and see my point of view.  Eliminating the "but..." is part of my new change in relating to other moms.  I don't think it's productive to echo a mom's feelings about how she's coping with some new dramatic change in her child's behavior/health/education and then negate it all with a "but....here's what I think...."

I'm not saying that I don't want to hear how others are coping and even get suggestions, like I mentioned above.  I want to know what you've done that works for you.  Maybe it would work for me too.  What I'm making a conscious effort to do now is see everyone's path for what it's worth.  We all want the same basic thing--to help our children grow into strong, independent, confident beings who navigate the social waters like experienced sailors using all the tools taught to them by the experienced sailors before them.  It's my job to be the example I want them to follow.  I can't very well teach my twins how to treat others the way they want to be treated if I'm engaging in clandestine character assassination.  I need to be done judging.

In "Bad Mother" Aleyet Waldman discusses how she saw her first "bad mother" on a train--a woman who pulled her daughter's hair as she was putting it into a ponytail.  She relays how she was mortified at how this woman could do such a thing, in public, no less.  She says we moms are constantly trying to live up to some unrealistic expectation and when we see others who fail to meet that expectation, we judge them.  I've judged and been judged, and I really want to let that drama go from my life.  Waldman says the definition of a reasonable good mother is, "one who loves her kids and does her level best not to damage them in any permanent way. A good mother doesn't let herself be overcome by guilt when she screws up."

This is my goal for today--I'm gonna try not to screw it up, but if I do, I'm gonna cry to you, who will lift me up, and I won't feel guilty about it.

Day Care -- Is It Risky? Stop the Guilt Already

Just when I was thinking I was okay in the balance of working and child care, this study comes out in the Los Angeles Times this morning.

A comprehensive study of behavior of children who were in a day care setting as toddlers reveals that they are more likely to engage in risky behavior as teens.  Great.  Just what us moms who work outside the home need. And while the data and findings are marginal--there is only a slight rise in risky behavior in teens who spent a lot of hours in day care and those who mostly spent their toddlerdom at home--this feeds my paranoia and adds more worry to my already exploding head that is constantly spinning with blather like, "am I spending enough time with them?" "Are they learning bad habits after school?" "Will they learn the social skills necessary to fit in in school while still learning academically?"

See how this works?  The study was about day care centers and toddlers, not school-age children.  But does that stop my worry?  No way.

I have a tremendously flexible job, one that allows me long breaks in the year with time to spend with the children, yet I focus on the 3 days a week, 2 hours a day,  9 months a year that they're outside school and my care. 

"Whatever" to this study I say.  My favorite quote in the article (you gotta love journalists who cover all sides of a story) comes from Ellen Galinsky, author of "Mind in the Making" and president of the Families and Work Institute in New York, "Risk-taking, thinking creatively, taking on a challenge, trying something new -- all these aspects of impulsiveness and risk-taking can be a positive thing."  She this may be helpful to tomorrow's workforce.

If my kids' experiences at their marvelous Child Development Center taught them anything, I hope it's that it's okay to allow lots of people to take care of them and teach them different perspectives of the world.  Go ahead, jump in and take a risk.  Just don't ask me to stop beating myself up about it.

Beautiful Boy

I go into this same Starbucks almost everyday on my way to work.  I swear to God; every time I go in there John Lennon's song Beautiful Boy is playing.  And every time, I get choked up.  I shed tiny tears thinking about my own beautiful boy (and my girl too) waltzing off to school while I drive 21 miles down the LA freeways to my job.  I have a brief moment of remembering them--their faces flashing across my mind as I hurry to get my espresso and be on my way.  And I, like many mothers who work outside the home, swallow any guilt that might come up, reassuring myself that they are fine, I am fine, and we'll be together soon.

But more than that, I think about Sean Lennon.  He was 5 when he lost his father.  John Lennon said when promoting the album Double Fantasy that he loved being a "house husband."  He loved being with his child.  And to have it all taken away after only 5 years is heartbreaking.  As I listen to the song, I can feel his hopes for his son--the boy's life playing like a film in his imagination. 

"I can hardly wait,
To see you to come of age,
But I guess we'll both,
Just have to be patient,
Yes it's a long way to go....."

He never got that chance.  But I do. 

This morning as I was leaving the house for work, I was running really late.  I threw all my stuff in the car and yelled back at the house, "BYE..."  Then I went back inside.  I hugged and kissed my kids.  I told DG I loved him.  My family is the apex of my happiness, and I don't want to miss a moment of letting them know it.

Oh, the Pressure!

Don't you hate it when you have a million blog post ideas in your head, and instead of drafting or writing, you just think about them everyday, and when evening comes, and you think you want to write one, you're so burned out after doing the dishes and making the lunches and cleaning the fish tank that clever, witty posts elude you?

I know I sure hate that. 

Did someone say group hug?

We had a cool "balance-affirming" moment this week.

Last month, I had to reluctantly sign up my kids for after-school care with the local parks and rec department. I thought I could cram my full time job into the 6 hours a day that my kids are in school, but I just can't do it. I was frantically ducking out of meetings in order to drive 21 miles on the freeway (God, I hope there's no traffic) to get there in time to pick them up. The after-school care means that there's a little less pressure on me, and I feel like I can do my job without people judging my "leaving early."

This week, the kids were at the after-school program on Monday for 8 hours because the school was closed for a "pupil-free" day. Not very "working-family-friendly." My meeting lasted until 5 pm, so my husband picked the kids up at 5:30, and I ran in the door at 5:50, threw an apron over my skirt and blouse, and started cooking dinner.

In a brief moment of passing, I stopped to hug my husband. My daughter came in the room and said, "I want a hug too!" She ran at us and grasped our legs. Then T1 came in. He wanted in on it too. "Family hug!!!" we all cried. And we picked up the kids (really not very easy, now that they're almost 7) and had a good long squeeze.

This was very affirming to me. This is why I do it. I really feel so lucky to have such sweet kids, and I sincerely recognize that luck when I spend a little time away from them. If I were home with the kids all day, which I also love, I don't think I would have appreciated them as much as I did in that moment. Likewise, I don't think they would have wanted to be around me at all anymore. I shared this story with my colleague at work the next day, and he said, "It's about balance. You're showing them that work matters, and they matter too."

We're taking a family trip this weekend when we'll be together 24/7 for the next 4 days. That's a different post altogether....

Beaches and Theme Parks and X Games, Oh My!

Summers are different when you have kids. When I was younger, before marriage, kids, you know, responsibility, summers were for relaxing, sitting around, staying up late, reading lots and lots and lots. Now my summers are jam packed. I wouldn't necessarily call what we do in summer a "vacation." I remember my last "vacation." There was an over-water bungalow and the words, "Bora-Bora" on the hotel stationery....ah memories. No, now we take trips. Trips to theme parks, the beach, places with cotton candy and merry-go-rounds.

I love my summer "trips" with my family. Maybe they're not the most relaxing or rejuvenating, but they are FUN. The looks on our faces can attest to that. Here are some highlights:

Parrot talons in your shoulders do feel really weird.




Big hat is a must.




Always gotta find a place where the kids can go on one of these




At the X Games in Los Angeles, we watched the inaugural "Big Air Rail Jam" skateboarding event. These guys skateboarded down that giant ramp, landed on a tiny rail, jumped off the rail and came down another ramp. Pretty amazing.



Don't we look happy? I hope you had a great summer too. Back to school (and back to work) is just around the corner....

Summer Camp

I did not really like summer camp as a child. I remember I had to go to the YMCA day camp for a while, and then my mom sent my sister, brother, and I to Vacation Bible School at a Baptist Church. We were Catholic. Go figure. I guess if it's all Jesus, that's okay, right?

Anyway, the YMCA day camp felt very isolating. It was in this big, cavernous gym, with bunches of kids, none of whom I knew. We went on field trips and had contests--everything that should have made a kid thrilled. Not me. I was painfully shy and had trouble making friends. Mostly, I remember playing by myself and sticking with the counselors, who were like surrogate mommies to me, when what I really wanted was to be home with my mom, who was at work--like me now.

Fast forward to my own kids going to summer camp for the first time. I had a revelation yesterday that they are now forming their own childhood memories. These are the summers they'll remember as the "when I was a kid..." times. Oh, the responsibility of this makes me so nervous. What if they don't like camp? What if they have a bad experience that they remember forever and blame me for putting them there--for working.

I took T1 and T2 to camp for their first day on August 3. They knew 3 kids there from their previous pre-school. Long standing friends with whom they had fantastic relationships. There was even a counselor there from their pre-school. They'd be okay, I told myself. They had "people" there.

T1 has a similar personality to mine. He's sensitive, shy, and slow to warm. I projected all of my own childhood fears onto his experience. T2 will be fine, I thought. She's the social butterfly. No problems for her. I packed their lunches (special sugary treats included so they'd think fondly of me during the day. Why that works, I don't know), kissed them goodbye, and crossed my fingers for a good day. When I came to pick them up, the counselors' reports were all happy and upbeat. They had a great time! they said. T1 actually joined in the games and made friends faster and more easily than T2. T2 got into the game late in the day, but really, overall, they loved it.

You mean their lives aren't going to be the same as mine? Their childhoods will be different? As twins, their experience will always be different than mine. They will always have each other wherever they go together. I suppose that takes some of the pressure off. A week-and-a-half into camp now, and they're both loving it. And why not? Playing games, going swimming, and making new friends (friends that may last a lifetime, as other people tell me happens sometimes at camp) are infinitely more fun than hanging out with Mommy.

They're growing up.