I'm working on happiness

"So, what are you doing now that you aren't working?'

I kinda dread those words.

Truth be told I doubt that they often carry judgement.  I'm probably putting my own fear on someone else's words.  Whatever the reason, I hate that question.

My kids are both school age, so that means that between the hours of 8:15 and 3:15 I'm without the responsibility of anyone else.  So how do I fill those hours?  Is that even a question that needs a response?

For some reason I feel the need to be able to explain to others how I fill my hours.  No, I'm not sitting around eating bonbons and watching soaps.  The TV doesn't even get turned on.  Sometimes I listen to records while I work (look the W word...even though I'm not getting paid), but truth be told, I rarely have the time to even turn music on.

So what does fill my hours?   Well, all the crap that I used to have to fit into the one hour between work and picking the kids up from school, for one.  Those tasks and errands, the things that had me running around like a chicken with my head cut off, the things that left me frazzled, stressed, and always feeling like I was forgetting something, these things get done now without stress.  The groceries get bought, and the oil gets changed.  The little appointments that required either time off work or the timing of a ninja are so much easier to fit in.  The kids appointments that required one parent take time off of work are no big deal anymore.  A few weeks ago my husband had to work out of town for the week, in the past this would have been a huge headache, as he was the one to get the kids to school, now it's no big deal.  In the evenings I can spend time with my husband rather than trying to get one last load of laundry done.  All in all things just run smoother.

Those tasks that were always getting put off are getting crossed off, little by little.

Yesterday I canned 16 pints of applesauce and 8 pints of salsa...in years past, this is something that just wouldn't have gotten done.

I get to have lunch with my kids every couple of weeks.

I'm able to take (baby) steps to building a business.

Ya know what else fills my days?  Relationships.

I'm not talking meeting the girls for gossip every day at 10am.  I'm talking being able to spend time with the friend who is really going through a rough time and needs an ear.  I'm talking spending time with the new mom who's feeling super cooped up, and being able to say yes when a friend asks for a favor.

I'm a month into the journey of being a stay at home mom with kids in school.  I like to think I'm a month into a weird journey of self discovery.  I haven't figured out all (or really even any) of the big questions that I have, but I have proven that a house runs a lot smoother when there is someone who can focus on all the little crap.

Last night I asked my husband how he feels about me being home.  I think he was a bit afraid to answer.  He simply said that he just wants me to be happy and that he feels like I've been happier.  I guess that's the ultimate goal for all of us.  Happier.  I'm hoping that not only will I be happier, but we will all feel the release of tension.  We will all be happier.

Maybe that's how I should answer when people ask what I'm doing now that I'm not working...

"I'm working on happiness"

Every once in a while

I've talked about this before...Having a tween is so hard.

I distinctly remember one interaction I had with my mom when I was a tween.
 
     It was late evening, and I think I was supposed to be asleep, or at least in bed.  I don't remember what drew me out of my bedroom and into the living room, but something did.  As I was walking down the hall towards the living room I could hear my mom on the phone, and based on the conversation they were having, I knew that she was talking with her best friend who lived on the other side of the country.  I also don't remember what made me stop and listen to what was being said, but I did.  What I do remember was my mom saying:

         "I feel like I just never know which Emily I'm going to get, the happy one or the moody one."
 
For whatever tween, hormonal, emotional reason, hearing this sent me into a crazy spiral.  I remember being so mad...I mean, what could my mom be talking about...I was just me...just Emily... always Emily.

Fast forward 24 odd years and I totally get it.  I hate to admit it, but I totally get it.  I honestly don't remember being much of a typical tween, but the fact that I remember that interaction means that I certainly was.

Now I'm in the boat my mom was in.  Sometimes my Sweet Girl is so happy, easy to get along with, and thoughtful, other times...well, lets just say, not so much.  It really is a daily struggle, and sometimes the only thing that gets me through it is knowing that my friends with tween girls are going through the same thing.  I'm not alone.  She really is normal.  These are the things I keep repeating to myself.

But, like I said, there are the moments when she is one of the sweetest girls I have ever had the joy of knowing.  These moments, when there are random acts of kindness and pure love, remind me that maybe I'm not doing EVERYTHING wrong, maybe things are going alright.  Every once in a while I'm reminded that we really are doing something right.

Yesterday was one of those moments.

It was the kids last day of summer vacation.  I had basically told them that they could do whatever they wanted until we had to head into town for some last minute, get ready for school, errands.  They watched too much TV, they played with legos, they ate junk food...all the things summers are supposed to be made of.  Then Sweet Girl asked Little Man if he would like to ride his bike with her down to the pond.  Sure...and they are off.  The only inkling I had that anything special was about to go down was that she had her purse with her.  There is a little market by the pond that sells some basic groceries and I thought she might have her eye on some candy.  Well, 20 minutes later and I hear the kids coming back, and one of them has a treat: ice cream, but it's not Sweet Girl...she surprised her brother with an ice cream cone.

My heart swelled with love at this sight.

The act of giving and not receiving.
The random act of kindness.
The act of finding joy in someone else's happiness.

It was one of my favorite moments all summer long.

So as I sit here, enjoying the silence that the first day of school has brought upon my house, I am going to put this one in the bank.  This memory will be stored away in a sacred place to be called on when needed.  In those moments where I struggle to parent a tween, in the moments where I wonder where my sweet girl has gone, I will call upon it as reassurance that I am doing something right.

Every once in awhile the universe gives us the gift of being able to see the forest through the trees.

these memories are etched in stone

I remember exactly where I was 9 years ago.  I was at Costco.

I remember I ran into a friend while I was there, we chatted about life, and how I was feeling.  At apx. 37 weeks pregnant I wasn't feeling great.

I remember some of what I bought that day.  I remember buying pork, bringing it home and dividing the huge, Costco sized, package up into smaller packages for freezing.

I remember that the little boy in my belly hadn't been very active that day, so I had a glass of orange juice and laid down to see if I could get him moving.

I remember my husband encouraging me to call the Doctor when the OJ didn't help, when the nap didn't help.

I remember driving myself to the hospital, sure that I would be hooked up to monitors for at least an hour...how I would have to push a little button...how the nurses would tell me to head back home. They would tell me that my baby was fine, that 'room to move' was just getting sparse in that great big belly of mine.

I was convinced I'd be driving myself back home that evening, bummed to lose one of our last afternoons as a family of three.

The details of that day are etched in my memory.

I never expected that once I was hooked up to the machines and wires I wouldn't have to push that little button even once.

I never imagined that they would call for a tech, and she would hook me up to an ultrasound machine. That she would sit and watch my baby's heart rate go up and up, and that the sweet baby in my tummy would refuse to move the whole time she watched.

I never imagined that they would tell me that I needed to call my husband, that he should come, without our daughter, that he should bring a hospital bag.

I never imagined they would tell me that they couldn't wait any longer...

That we were having a baby now.

Fast forward nine years.

I never would have imagined how my son would love math and science.  How he'd dream of being an environmental scientist to help save animal habitat.

I never would have imagined the heart of gold he would have.  How he'll spend his allowance on a toy for the dog, or give it to a homeless person instead of saving for toys.

I never would have imagined that he'd have his own sense of style, with shaggy, surfer-boy hair, and a love of crazy sneakers.

I never would have imagined that my son would be so strong, and work so hard at a sport that he loves.

I never would have imagined that he would have the same sense of adventure that I do.  That he would love climbing mountains and swimming lakes.  That he would dream of traveling to Egypt and Africa.

I never would have believed I could love him so much.

Happy Birthday Little Man!

In this moment of happiness and joy for me and my family, I want to take a moment and acknowledge that things turned out good for us.  That night in the hospital my boy was born with nothing that some antibiotics, love from family, and good care from amazing doctors and nurses couldn't fix.

We are the lucky ones.

My heart is with you today if you have suffered from infertility, miscarriage, or infant/child loss.

My heart is with you.

Adventure Thursday

Things do not always go the way that I think they should, but the older I get the more I'm believing that things do always go the way the universe intends.

One great example of this is what I've lovingly dubbed Adventure Thursday.

A few weeks back I realized that as the summer was beginning to wane the list of small(ish), Montana day-trips that I had planned was not getting much shorter.  I had been so busy with the longer, more involved trips, as well as the (unending) work of trying to create my own small business, that these little (yet important) adventures were getting pushed to the wayside.  I was feeling pretty disappointed in myself for letting this happen and I realized that I needed to pencil in some time in my planner specifically for this reason.

Thus was born Adventure Thursday.  One day a week when I will not work, and the day (well, at least a good chunk of the day) will be devoted to heading out somewhere new with my kids.

I had high hopes of excited children with smiling faces who were having so much fun that they couldn't possibly whine or argue (why would they when they are having the time of their lives).  I imagined them falling into bed early in the evening because they were so worn out after a day of adventuring in the mountains with fresh air.  I even thought they would be so thankful to me, their loving, thoughtful mother, who had put together such a special day for them.  I pictured myself tucking them into bed and then sitting on the couch, with a glass of wine in my hand, feeling blissful after spending a full day winning at motherhood.

Well, as I'm sure you can imagine, things didn't go quite as I had planned.

The problems started before we had even left the house.  This kids couldn't agree on where we should go to get some items for our picnic by a lake. They whined and argued, while I got frustrated that they were more concerned with getting what they wanted rather than being thankful that they got to have a special day (lunch included).

The problems continued when we got to the trailhead...or what I thought was the trailhead.  Things didn't look quite like I remembered from hiking in the area several years back.  Our destination wasn't even on the map at the trailhead.  The kiddos were starting to question my knowledge about where we were and therefor if I could even be trusted to keep them alive.  But we continued on...we might not be were I intended, but we were at a beautiful trailhead and damnit we were going to have a good time anyhow.

Next up we ran into some hikers that I would have very much liked to punch in the throat.  A group of older ladies who I can only assume were from out of state...and here to experiance the great outdoors. They talked loudly and obnoxiously,  they questioned several parenting decisions I made within the span of minutes that we were in earshot of each other, and talked down to me quite a lot when they found out (thanks dear children of mine) that we were not at our intended trailhead (which was quite ironic as it turns out that they weren't either).

But, after hiking in for a good mile or so, my frustrations started to lead to gratitude.  The trail that we were on turned out to be quite beautiful, and I started to feel so appreciative that the universe had led us here.  I was reminded that even though I am very much in charge of my life,  I am very much not in charge of what the world will put in my path.

where we ended up:

I was starting to feel very zen about the whole thing, but pre-teens have a way of putting an end to almost any zen you think you find.  I won't go into the details, but suffice it to say that all was lovely until we drove back down to a nearby lake to have our (much fought over) picnic lunch.  It was at this peaceful moment that the Tween decided it would be the perfect time to lay out (in bullet point form) all the ways in which I had fallen short as a mom that day.

And I swore that was the end of Adventure Thursday.

Luckily my husband was there, on the other end of the phone, to talk me off the metaphorical ledge, and after a weeks worth of time passed by I decided that I was feeling strong enough to once again venture out with my children for a day of wandering off the beaten path.

And I'm so glad I did.

This time, wether it was because the universe really owed me a solid, or maybe because my husband threatened to ground the kids until school was back in session if he had to talk me off the ledge again, things were much more as I had envisioned them.  Although part of that is probably due to the fact that I had some time to adjust my vision...bring it a bit closer to reality.  There were far fewer complaints from the very beginning.  The kiddos seemed honestly happy to spend the day together and even the time in the car drew very few complaints.  I felt happy and so in awe of the beauty we saw.  

the following adventure Thursday

One of my favorite sayings goes something like this:

Right when you think you've got it all figured out, is right when it will all start to fall apart.

I'm thinking the universe needed to remind me of this once again.  I had it a little too planned out in my head.  I thought I knew what the ideal Adventure Thursday looked like.  As cheesy as it sounds, I needed the reminder to go with the flow, to relax and try to enjoy the journey, not to force it.   

As my husband said (whilst talking me of aforementioned ledge), "babe, you took the wrong road and ended up hiking somewhere new...sounds like an adventure to me!".

its all hard

I vividly remember being about four months pregnant with my first child when I read somewhere about how common it was for women to poop while in the pushing phase of labor.  

I was appalled.

How come I had never heard this!?  How could a girl grow into a woman, sit through many a sex-ed class (even the weird one in church where we had to watch a video of a woman giving birth with full 70's bush), get married, and become pregnant and not find out this vital piece of information.  I mean come on now.  You want to talk about birth control... how about we tell teenage girls that if they get pregnant there is a good possibility of pooping in front of your doctor and baby daddy while in the midst of one of the most painful experiences of your life.  Oh and there's loads of other fluids too.  I guarantee you that those teenagers would be extra careful about using protection.  

But there I was, already pregnant...no going back now.  I dealt with it.  I got though my birth (thats a whole different story) and came out the other side with a beautiful daughter and I wouldn't change a thing.  That being said, I really wish that I had known about the whole pooping issue before I got knocked up.  Some things are just easier to deal with when you are good and prepared for them. But it seems like some of the more low down and dirty parts about child rearing are some of the parts that no one seems to want to talk about.

Over the last couple of years I've had a lot of run ins with one of those other parts of parenting that no one seems to talk about.

The fact that it doesn't get any easier. 

When my kids were babies it was so hard.  My nights were sleepless and my days were filled with pee and poop and vomit.  I would get so tired of being physically touched all day that by the time my husband came home, I handed the baby over and couldn't even give him a hug, simply because I was so desperate for my body to be MINE.  Keeping my children, marriage, and myself happy and heathy was just SO hard.

When my kids were toddlers it was so hard.  I was getting more sleep, but the days were even busier. I could no longer lay them in their swing to put that load of clothes away, or take a shower.  There were no longer the long stretches of sitting in a rocking chair nursing and snuggling.  Sure, naps were now a little more scheduled, but when the kids were up they wanted to be busy all the time.  It hadn't gotten any easier, or any harder.  It had just gotten different.

My youngest is in elementary school and it is so hard.  Sure he is going to school during the day, but somehow the hours while he is at school fly by with household tasks and errands...and you can forget about that if you are trying to work as well.  And the evenings are filled with after school activities. Between school, activities, meals and trying to get the kids to bed at a decent hour it is SO hard.  He is so great and can do so much to help take care of himself, but he is still little and needs so much help.  It doesn't get any easier, it's just different.

Now my oldest is in middle school.  It's so hard.  She's old enough to be home by herself for short periods of time, and even help take care of her younger brother.  She can even cook a basic meal.  In many ways things have gotten easier.  I rarely have a sleepless night, and I would LOVE to have a few more cuddles from my kids.  But now there is tween-age drama, constant activities, typical attitude and the age old struggle to find independence.  It is SO hard.  But have things gotten harder?  No.  They have just gotten different.  

And I worry about what is to come, about the stages we haven't hit yet.  

I will admit that it gets under my skin a little (okay, maybe a lot) when I hear moms who have children that are younger than mine talk about how they know things will only get easier.  Guess what? It doesn't.  And I hear it a lot.  

So I try to be honest...without being harsh.

Kind of like pooping on the delivery table, I want women to know what they are up against. Wouldn't it benefit everyone if we were honest about how hard it is to be a mom...or a dad?  Wouldn't it be better if we were all honest about what it's really like.  Why do we have to 'one up' each other with how hard we have it? 

Recently I saw on social media a woman who wrote about her experiance in an airport while she was traveling with her small children.  She got to chatting up an older woman about how hard it is.  How hard it is to be a good mom.  How hard it is to try and do it all (key word: try).   About how hard it is when they are little.  About how it will get easier.  The older woman's response was kind but honest. To sum it up: you just wait. While not the most supportive route to take I do appreciate her honesty. It doesn't get any easier.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I hope that as moms we can stop looking at each other and thinking about how much easier everyone else has it.  Its rough.  No matter where you are at.  

As a friend I will commiserate with you.  I will cry with you.  I will hug you and bring you wine.  I will do whatever I can to help you get through whatever stage you are at.  I promise not to look at you and assume that the place I'm at is any harder than where you are, but please do me the same favor. Don't assume that I have it easier just because my kids are older.

So lets get this shit out in the open right now.  It is hard.  It is all hard.  It doesn't get easier, it just gets different.

one of 'those' kids

When I was growing up there were always one or two of those kids, you know the kind, the kind that made it all look easy.  They didn't seem to have to try to get great grades.  They picked up every sport they tried without effort.  They always looked good and seemed to have endless supplies of confidence (even during puberty...yikes).  They always seemed to have something witty to say and were able to flow in and out of social settings with ease.  While I'm sure that not all was as rosy as it looked from the outside, it was quite a sight to behold as a child.

Well, now here I am, with children of my own.  Who would have thought...I have one of those kids.

Where did he get this level of awesome?  I have no idea.  Clearly not from me or his dad.

And now that I live with one of 'those kids' every day, I can attest to the fact that it is not all rosy.

School is too easy, we worry about boredom and have met with teachers to try to increase the challenge for him.  I (as a preschool teacher myself) can totally understand the difficulty of trying to challenge one child more, while still teaching a whole classroom.  At this point, we haven't found a solution to keep him challenged in school.  So, as his mom, I worry about boredom.  I worry that at some point he will 'check out' or stop trying.

Sports come naturally, but there is always someone better, someone stronger, someone faster.  When you become accustomed to winning, it can be a hard pill to swallow when you actually lose (which we all do).

Being the life of the party comes with its own set of expectations and responsibilities.  When you are a child it can be difficult to cope with this.  Too many friends knocking on the door to play.  Too many invites and playdates.  And once adolescence comes, you just hope your child will use this strange power for good instead of evil.

Even the big kids want to hang out with him.  I'm not sure this one needs a whole lot more explanation.

Maybe this sounds like a lot of blubbering about first world problems.
 
"Oh shit, my son is too cool!"

And maybe it is.  But I've seen the other side too.  I've been with the chid who cries because they just don't understand the homework.  Talked them through kids being mean, and hurtful, for stupid reasons.  Wiped the tears when the birthday party invite didn't come.

And I can't say that one is easier than the other.  They are just different.

And often times, both leave me wondering what I should do...

friday morning yoga

  Today when I picked Sweet Boy up from school he seemed a little down.  He wasn't chatty in the car like he usually is, and he wasn't (as) full of hugs and kisses at seeing me.  When I pressed him about what was bothering him his response was something like this:

"Mom, I've been thinking about this and I've decided that I want you to quit your Friday yoga."

Ugg...here we go again.

You see, Little Man and I have a pretty special relationship.  I like to summarize it by saying that we share a soul.  He is just like me in so many ways, and I've always though of us as a bit of a pair. Need a hiking buddy? I know I can count on him.  Want to run a muddy 5k? He'll be right by my side.  Feeling like last minute car camping,  a handstand contest, or an overly ambitious adventure?  He's my partner in crime.   I've loved this closeness.  But lately I'm wondering if it's causing some problems.

You see, he wants me to be around, be available for hugs, kisses, and last minute pb&j's ALL THE TIME.  He struggles with me going to work in the morning.  Often Sunday evenings leave him in tears with the approaching separation.    There have been more early morning tears, and requests to immediately quit my job, than I'm comfortable admitting.

And the truth is he already has it pretty good.  Although I only see him long enough in the morning for a quick kiss goodbye (Dad has been on full morning duties for 4 years), and sick days are always a struggle and a source of guilt, I am there almost every day after school for pick up.  I'm the homework helper, the lunch maker, and the evening snuggler.  Im there to tuck him in and kiss his sweet cheeks every night.  I'm at every gymnastics meet and every doctors visit.  But the kid wants MORE...

A few weeks ago I started taking and early morning yoga class on Fridays.  He misses his morning kisses, but because of this early morning workout I get to watch part of his gymnastics practice and take him home from practice on Fridays.  It means more time together.   But all Little Man sees is that he doesn't get his morning kisses.  I tried explaining this, tried telling him that I work out Friday morning so that I don't have to go to the gym on Friday evening and we get to be together more.  His response was a lot of bumbling about how I workout enough and I should just skip Fridays.

Little does he know that I'm prone to become an angry Rage-Monster if I don't get my workout in.

So there I am, sitting in the car with my favorite 8 year old, trying to explain to him why I will not be giving up my Friday morning yoga.  Why it's a good thing for me, and really a good thing for him too.  I may as well have been explaining the chemical makeup of rocket fuel.  Instead of trying to talk him through it and expect him to understand what is a very grown up concept, I guess I'm just going to continue what I'm doing.  Going to yoga, wiping tears, and reminding him that I love him.

Being a mom is all about balance.  Trying to find the right balance of giving your children too much vs not enough attention.  Trying to find the right balance of 'me' time and 'mom' time.   The balance of not enough vs too much coffee (okay, maybe that one's just me).  It seems the moment that I start to feel that balance in my life, the universe shifts just a little and throws me off.  A constant reminder that the universe has a plan and I'm not actually the one in charge.