Exploring New Worlds

I've moved

2011-03-13T19:47:00.001-05:00

This blog has not been updated since September 2009. You are welcome to join me at my other blog, "polishing pearls". Check it out via my profile page.

Full-Fledged Toddler

2009-09-04T21:38:00.003-05:00

V learned a week ago to escape from his crib. So, we removed the front gate, and he now has a toddler bed. He also now comes into our room, in the middle of the night, on his own two feet. At least he no longer wakes up the older ones by crying to be let out.

He has also learned how to take off his diapers if they are not covered by pants, and makes known his strong preference that I not put another diaper on him. He is attracted to electric outlets and plugs of any sort. He likes to move furniture. He also can open and close drawers, and likes to move clothes from one to another. He has discovered the laundry chute and thinks it is a good place for his brothers' shoes. He investigates any cup, glass, bowl, or plate left on the dining table - especially if it still contains something that might taste good. He likes to play with the tape dispenser when he finds it. He uses his push-car as a stool to reach the top shelf, where we keep all the interesting things like markers and cameras. He uses the kitchen stool to help himself to bananas and anything else that might be on the counter. One of the things frequently on the counter is our glass coffee carafe. We also tend to leave knives on the counter.

He is Terrifyingly Delightful. His grin lights up the room, and then I wonder if it means I have to go and rescue him, or his brothers, or our things from his power.

A part of his explosion of power is his power over words. His vocabulary is expanding every day, and his eyes light up when we understand what he is saying. Today he learned to say "jehdoh" (Jello).

Today's fortune: "The most important things in life aren't things." With a toddler in the house, that is a good thing.

The other end of summer

2009-08-23T22:54:00.008-05:00

Not feeling like writing much tonight, but feeling like a few things need to be said.

Here we are at the other end of summer. Continuing with Parenting On Track, at our own pace, trying to put principles into practice a few at a time. Some of the concepts are things I think we knew before, but now they are out in the open, where we can examine them, and remember them. We are working on our relationships with our boys, and with each other.

R has been away from our immediate family, with his grandparents, and at camp, for a total of a month since June. It has been good for the relationship between E & V to develop. It has also been good for E to learn that he doesn't have to mimic R to get attention and love. And, it has been a break for us. I imagine that it has also been good for R's relationship with his grandparents. On the other hand, we have not been able to work much on our relationship with him, which makes readjustment when he comes back crazy.

Crazier yet is that we have decided to home school the boys this fall. We start next week! Crazy as it still sounds to me, I am not too worried about it. (If I didn't worry at least a little, my family might wonder what alien took their mother's place.) I've been reading, and thinking, and we've done some planning, but we'll start mostly by trial and error. What works, we'll keep! Reports from our home school will be at my new blog, "Oyster School". As for the name, you'll just have to check it out over there.

As we go into the fall, I am looking forward to apple picking, corn mazes, home schooling field trips, a retreat with family and friends, and another retreat, where I hope to make some new friends as well as learn a few things about myself.

Enjoy with me this season of transition.

Discoveries

2009-06-02T21:45:00.006-05:00

This is important. I want to write it.
But ... one thing I've discovered is ... I'm exhausted.

Not much different than usual, but worth noting nonetheless.

I've been learning a lot about myself, and my interactions with the boys this week.

I've discovered that I hover. I save. I entertain. I clean up after. I do for. I repeat. I yell. I nag. I direct. I bribe. When these things don't work, I resort to whining, threats, and tantrums of my own. I get frustrated, then angry.

This week has been a good lesson in letting all of that go. Some things are harder to let go of than others. Attempting to solve the boys problems is probably one of the hardest, for me.

I've discovered that when I'm not trying to solve everyone's problems for them, I can just empathize, hug, cuddle. That these actions are often more supportive than giving away my solutions. I can give suggestions best by posing them in the first person. "Sometimes I ...". It is clear that this works better than saying "you could". We now have evidence. And if the boys ask for something that they can do themselves? I am trying to differentiate between help and doing things for them; I am practicing "help yourself" and "I have confidence that you can ...", as well as asking guiding questions, instead of answers.

We are also discovering our limits. It is very hard not to intervene in violence between the boys, especially for AD. He was the little brother who was always picked on. The dynamic in our family is somewhat different, but close enough to be an issue.

There is also only so much mess that we can tolerate. And, in fact, we did get some agreement from at least R that the house was just too messy, and that it would be better to put things away as soon as we're done with them. Of course, that doesn't help with the current state of things, but he did also agree to clean up, as long as he didn't have to do it alone. Of course not! So we worked on cleaning up together, and ordered some pizza, and worked on cleaning up some more. AD & I probably cleaned up 5 times as much as R, and E did very little at all, but at least we kept V from dumping everything out again. And maybe, just maybe, the sugary cereal stuck all over everything in the living room will be a good reminder why we don't eat in there. In any case, getting some cooperation in cleaning up is going to be important for us.

There is so much more to write. But it will have to wait until I am not so exhausted.

Morning of the Fourth (Guest Blogger: AD)

2009-06-01T09:07:00.008-05:00

Guest Blogger for this post: Articulate Dad:

Challenging. Truly challenging. This is the morning of our fourth day as a family on Parenting on Track™. I've been less than perfect in my progress, but progress it has been. What impressed me most about Vicki's DVD presentation for the first week was that she made a great deal of sense. The program is not focused on the symptoms, but the root causes.

This morning, I was talking with RocketMom, about how at times we have felt at our wits' end: we've tried everything, what more can we do? He's whining again, we've asked him to stop, we've cajoled him, we've begged, we've screamed... we've tried to ignore it, we've modelled a polite voice, we've rewarded him when he's asked nicely... why isn't this working?

But therein lies the problem: we've focused on the symptom. It's not about the symptoms. It's not about the whining. It's about creating an environment and a relationship where whining has little place, where whining (or what have you) are not effective, and atrophy of their own accord. It's as if we've tried to stop an itch by scratching. It may go away... but it may take much longer and cause greater discomfort along the way.

I don't want discomfort. I want my beautiful, wonderful, charming, insightful, delightful, smiling, happy, joyful, amazing, incredible boys. I have sometimes said that parenting is the hardest task I've ever encountered, ever tried. I say it's harder than writing that doctoral dissertation. RocketMom says it's harder than rocket science (and she'd know). But why? Why?

In terms that Vicki Hoefle, Creator of Parenting On Track™, might use, the reason lies in our negotiating our place in the world. By adulthood we've encountered many new situations, new environments, beyond our family of origin. Those family relationships may still be stuck in the patterns of our childhood, but we've been able to negotiate new terms in school, at work, among friends.

But children! Ah.... or rather Aaaarrggghhh! When we bring a baby home, we are confronted with an unfamiliar territory where our shovels fail to break the soil, our rain fails to nourish the roots, the sun fails to penetrate the clouds. And we lose our footing.

So we begin again, finding our places in this alien world, negotiating our roles and our identities with only the vaguest sense of where to begin. Unfortunately, much of that starting place is defined by our odd notions of what is expected of parents, and we lose our way.

So, we begin again, again!

Last night, I headed to bed around 11:30. R was still in the family room playing on the computer. E was apparently asleep on a chair beside him. I didn't set the alarm. I crawled out of bed around 7:15. Normally we leave for R's school around 7:20. It's about a 5 minute drive. First bell rings at 7:28, letting children into the building, the doors are locked when classes begin ten minutes later. I threw on some clothes, headed downstairs, noted R was dressed in the dining room, assumedly eating cereal. I grabbed my keys and wallet from my desk.

7:20, R greets me gleefully, as I left my home office: Daddy, you know today is Monday. Quickly and flatly I retort, with keys in hand: Yes, I'll be waiting in the car. And I left, pulled out of the garage, and waited, listening to the news on NPR. I looked at the clock periodically, vowing to sit it out until 7:38 before I'd head back in, closing my eyes, breathing.

7:36, readying for a possible confrontation, rehearsing: maybe they'll be having that rained-out field day today, you might miss it... you know, honey, the law requires you to be in school for the rest of the year. I honestly don't know what the consequences are if you refuse to go to school: they might not let us homeschool you next year, or they might take you away from us and put you in a foster home. Maybe we could call someone and ask, or go to the school, and ask the principal what would happen.

I open my eyes, to note in my periphery, R heading to the car door, opening it, putting on his seatbelt. I ease off the hand-brake, back out of the drive, and head to his school. 7:39 we pass the now-locked side door, and head to the front, where latecomers can get in. He opens the door. Wha? I... I forgot my folder... [silence]. I forgot my folder... [silence]. He closes the door. I see he's in shorts with sandals, but has a jacket (it's a rainy day again... I hadn't even noticed until now), no backpack. He enters the building.

A good start to the week. We might just get through this, and ~~find~~ define a better world on the other side. Consequences. Responsibility. Love.

Finding our way to nothing

2009-05-31T23:03:00.006-05:00

Day Three of the Parenting On Track program:

By Friday afternoon, the mess had started getting to us. Cereal all over the living and dining room floors, the couch cushions on the floor, and the ubiquitous toys, toys, toys everywhere. So - we cleaned up. We thought, maybe it would be our version of nothing to throw everything into a trash bag and stash it away somewhere.

Friday, we filled two trash bags. Yesterday, we filled one. Today we filled another one. And then we realized. They don't care if we take away the toys. They are pretty sure they'll get them back one day. If not, they have plenty more. And when we cleaned up, we did just what they wanted and expected. We reacted.

So, tonight, we dumped the trash bags out on the floor of the living room, where they will stay until the week's end. This will pose some problems for AD's meetings in the home office, but I suppose we'll figure something out.

The past three nights, we also made dinner for the family. We are used to family dinners. We like them ... but they are another thing that causes family fights. The cook (usually AD) feels disgruntled when the fruits of his efforts are not appreciated or even consumed. And then there's the cleanup. We left their dishes from the last two days where they were, but cleaned up the food, out of concern that they would get food poisoning from eating it. Tonight's dinner still sits partially eaten on the table.

We also clean up food that gets left out that we may want to eat. Well, I think we'll continue to do that. I like to have smoked salmon on my bagel. I'm sure the cats would like the fish, too, but they didn't buy it.

Then there are the dishes. So far, we have done partial cleanup of the kitchen several times - the kitchen mess really is mostly our mess. In fact, the kitchen is the biggest reason that we hired a house-cleaner to come once a week. She usually cleans up the bedrooms, changes the sheets, cleans the bathrooms, floors, living room and kitchen. I asked her not to come this week.

R & E have been up more than two hours past "bed-time" each of the last three nights. I have been putting V. to bed at a somewhat regular time. I usually nurse him & rock him to get him to sleep. But should I? He is 16 months old now. Should I give him the opportunity to get really tired and fall asleep on his own?

Of course having a one-year-old in the house complicates the rest of the clean-up issues as well. When the boys broke a dish as they played with their dinner tonight, we cleaned it up so that the baby wouldn't get glass in his feet. Should we have left it there, for big brothers to see the consequences of their inaction, instead of our reaction to it? I don't know. To be fair, they had cleaned up all the big pieces - just hadn't thought of a broom.

I also don't know if R will go to school tomorrow. And what should I do if he doesn't? Call the school to vouch for him? Let the absence be unexcused and wait for the truancy officer to call us or knock on our door? Complicating this issue is that he is underchallenged and unenthusiastic about school. We have decided to homeschool in the fall, but the paperwork is not yet filed, so officially he needs to go. Should I file the paperwork to homeschool and let him just skip the rest of the year?

Although it must sound like it, the past few days have not been all bad. We have doled out a lot of hugs and kisses. We have played games with the boys. We are learning to use questions and "I statements" instead of solving the boys' problems for them. We have become more aware of our habits and emotions. We have discovered that R is capable of making French toast by himself (although he needed help lighting the burner). E can wipe his own bottom after using the toilet (although we felt the need to help him clean up his hands and feet afterwards). R & E are capable of going around the block by themselves. And, if we tell them, "we are leaving, we have our cell phones, you know how to reach us", they believe us. (We had V with us, and fortunately, R & E decided at that moment to hurry out the door after us, so we didn't have to test our resolve.)

Tomorrow I will try to write more about the discoveries we are making about ourselves and the boys.

Parenting On Track: Day One

2009-05-29T10:57:00.016-05:00

Parenting, recently, has been exhausting and exasperating. I don't think much has changed besides my perception, but perceptions can be powerful. Thanks to some intriguing reporting on the program from Jena, we decided to try Parenting On Track.

Wow.

Saying nothing is extremely difficult. Doing nothing is extremely difficult. The results are powerful.

It started this morning at least an hour before I was hoping to get up; "Mommy, how do you turn the computer on." In my drowsy, hopeful state, I murmured, "The power strip is unplugged."

That was my first mistake. But I was really hoping for another hour of sleep.

He took the initiative to look up "power strip" in the dictionary, but apparently the search was not fruitful. For the next hour, all I heard, in increasing desperation was, "What is a power strip?"

Since then, I've been hit, yelled at, doused with water, pestered with incessant repetitions of the same question, and told, "this is my worst day ever."

I also watched my son follow me up and down the sidewalk on his scooter, with pants on backwards, only one shoe on, and screaming the entire time. I saw him look me in the eye, pick up a can of soda from the counter and drink some. I could see the gears turning, Mommy is not answering me/paying attention to me/letting me control her. I'll try something else that usually gets a reaction. I have also witnessed fighting with his brother to get attention, attempting to disrupt what we are doing to get attention, and, after being told that unsafe behavior will not be tolerated, yelling for help, to be rescued from a marginally safe activity. Oh, and he didn't go to school today.

It's freeing, really, not to have to respond to this atrocious behavior. I have witnessed from the receiving end that repeating a request does not make it happen. That yelling does not make it happen. That violence does not make it happen. That threats (even when carried through) do not make it happen. I ashamedly admit that I already know what these behaviors look like from the other end.

It is much more difficult not to respond to comparatively easy requests delivered in a somewhat reasonable fashion. But doing things for them is what they want, part of the way I interfere with their growth towards independence, and only fosters more requests to take care of things they can do themselves. So I consider the request, and help if I suspect that they really need it. If I suspect they don't, I attempt to ignore it and let the situation escalate.

A byproduct of this approach is that because I am not soliciting/serving/cleaning up after the boys, I suddenly seem to have a lot more time. I don't know what to do with myself.

And so I write.

Jump-starting my imagination

2008-10-24T22:40:00.003-05:00

E: Mommy, I have some eggs benedict for you.
(Shows me a plate full of coins.)
Me: Where did that money come from?
E: It's not money, it's eggs benedict.
Me: Well, then, where did the eggs benedict come from?
E: I just made it.
Me: But where did the ingredients come from?
E: I got them at Ikea.

Oh. Guess it's time to eat some eggs benedict.

Riding the Rapids of Life

2008-10-21T21:30:00.003-05:00

Time keeps flowing no matter how I wish for a respite.
I don't write.
I am scattered.
At times I struggle for breath.

I am overwhelmed by a torrent of activities and fundraisers.
Elementary school, preschool, temple, sunday school, art classes, cub scouts, field trips.
Drop offs and pick ups. Never-ending plains of dishes. Mountains of laundry.
The water level rises.

Currents and eddies pull me this way and that. Occasionally I find some respite.

Little things matter. For R, my sensitive one, a host of worries accompany the first loose tooth:
First, "Mommy, I think we should go to the dentist. My tooth hurts. I bit a popsicle stick." Once we explained that he's probably just losing his first baby tooth. "Mommy, I don't think I should eat anything hard until my baby tooth falls out and my new tooth comes in." And tonight, "Mommy, tomorrow, let's google the tooth fairy, to see if she will take a note if I swallow my tooth and still give me a prize."

My dreamer, E, assured me he wanted to go to preschool "all the days as I can". Now that he is enrolled four days a week, I think he misses leisurely mornings with mommy as much as I do. We make up for lost time in the afternoon. "Mommy, this is a magic broomstick that will take us to Mars. Oh - we forgot the map. [pushes imaginary button on wall] Here it is! Now we can go to Mars." And later, "Mommy, let's pretend we're ladybugs and we're climbing up the stems to get the aphids. Now I'm a ladybug with a kitchen. What would you like to eat? I have aphid chicken soup for you. And some ice cream."

Now 9 months old, V is a beautiful, exhausting whirlwind of ups and downs.
He enchants me with his squeals of delight. He calls for mama when is tired or hungry, and melts my heart. He impresses me with his cleverness by heading straight for the cat food when he wants to be picked up. He tosses food on the floor when it's not to his liking - only to change is mind and eat it from the floor before I get to cleaning it up. His top two front teeth have finally broken through, after weeks of teething pain and accompanying sleepless nights. Still, on few nights I get to sleep through until 5 or 6, I wake up startled and worried that I haven't heard from him yet. All too soon, I'm sure, I'll miss his morning snuggles.

I feel battered physically & emotionally from life's ride these past few months. I still want to finish unpacking, organize, start making little repairs and improvements we've imagined - but I find it impossible to make any headway in the midst of the bedlam created by our beautiful boys. I need to take care of my health but it always takes a backseat to my babies. I don't work, and yet I still struggle for balance.

Milestones pass in the blink of an eye. The current is swift. I often find it hard to sit back and enjoy the ride, but it is always well worth it when I do.

Savoring Summer's End

2008-08-26T21:21:00.004-05:00

In the mornings recently, a deliciously cool breeze blows through our bedroom window, reminding me of the cool weather around the corner. By afternoon, the heat sets in, encouraging me to daydream about just which location would be right for a nice shade tree.

The Composer, in his own baby way, has captured this cusp of the seasons; he loves chewing on watermelon rinds and apple cores.

In a furious frenzy to pack in all the fun that we can before school starts, we've been, in the past week, to the museum, the beach, the movies, and apple picking. We sent the Painter off to visit with his grandparents for a few days, allowing me the presence of mind to remember to call the preschool to which I have been interested in sending the Inventor. As a result, I will now be sending two of my babies off to new schools in the next few weeks.

Suddenly summer seems too short.

Washed away.

2008-08-18T22:25:00.004-05:00

Too many days drifting, and I start to feel washed away. Need to *do* something, *accomplish* something, have some time for me. I've been alternately cranky and patient with the boys, and with AD. We have had some nice time lying in the back yard looking at the trees & the sky, reading books about alligators, pirates, nutrition - we love the library.

Today I accomplished something - two loads of laundry helped to wash away my day, as well as some weeding. We have some beautiful vining toxic weeds in our garden, that I decided were too hazardous to health of the wee ones, as well as to the other plants in the garden. We also did the requisite shopping in preparation for the school year, although we didn't buy any pants, since R & I couldn't agree on the size. (He insists he should wear his age, which would have him stylishly tripping over the pant legs and wearing them out too soon to pass along. You see the trouble.)

Why does this not feel like enough?

Stained glass class is over for 3 weeks now, and despite best intentions, I have not kept dates with myself to keep working on my own.

I feel ill at ease. In the evening I have become a surfer instead of a drifter, riding the internet waves, speeding away from the discomfort, but not getting anywhere. I search for a cure, but I am not broken. Discomfort is okay. Hunger is okay. Sadness is okay. Anger is okay. I don't need to cure myself for feeling the full spectrum of human emotion. Like all emotions, these also come and go. I am okay.

When I stop the thrill ride and accept my thoughts and feelings for what they are, they lose their power. The swells diminish. The pendulum slows and returns to center. Centered, I carry on.

Drifting away

2008-08-12T22:43:00.001-05:00

Like the codas below, I find myself drifting away. I drift where life leads, and spend less and less time in front of the computer. Partly, we moved the computer into the office, leaving it somewhat inaccessible to me while AD is working. More than that, however, I'm just living, as best I can, right now. My life goes from breathtaking to infuriating and back a thousand times a day:

I delight as I watch V gleefully bounce in his jumper, listen to E's imaginative description of the world he lives in, and survey R's increasingly unusual whiteboard art. I sigh when I'm covered in baby poop, again, or find more to clean up from another source. I roll my eyes when I discover the window screen ripped to shreds, and NOT by the cats. Then we go out to the beach for a picnic, and E is disappointed that we can't plant the roasted sunflower seeds I brought with us for a snack. What a beautiful thought, to plant flowers on the beach. V is crawling, like an inchworm, which makes it difficult to keep him from eating sand or other things he shouldn't. He seems to know the difference between baby food and people food, and has decided he deserves the latter. And he is still a "spitter". R seems so mature sometimes, outgrowing childish refusal to utter the name of an animal he doesn't like, then must make a game of everything to ~~take twice as long~~ keep from getting bored. And E ... well, "no" is the first two letters of his middle name. In our house, we get "terrible threes".

And that's just the boys. AD's mom visited us last week, so we took her to visit the city and the lake and the state fair, we had a family dinner, and a date (woowee! first adults-only movie at the theater since ???), and a couple nice evenings getting to know the neighbors. Busy, yes, but not too busy to hear that AD will be much busier soon. As will we all. First grade starts for R in just three weeks.

In the midst of this wonder, this exhaustion, this joy, this laundry, this aching body, I sometimes think about writing, but life goes too fast and the moment passes me by, leaving only these remnants as evidence that I have a brain:

Titles for Almost Posts:

Suddenly six months (about V)

First Tooth (now second)

One Year Ago (what started our move)

Where I've been and where I'm going

Art Glass (work in progress)

and without a title, pictures pictures pictures.

Sometimes I worry about not "getting anything done", when we don't manage to get out of the house all day, but what's the point? I make a goal to get out of the house the next day and see how it goes. I can only be where I am.

Right now, I am not much here. I could worry about that, but I think I'll just take things day by day and see how it goes. I invite you to do the same.

Potty party

2008-08-08T00:37:00.003-05:00

Only parents of toddlers will appreciate this:

E went and pooped in the potty all by himself today - on time, and without any prompting, help, or parental involvement of any sort.

Hooray!

The List

2008-07-24T18:58:00.007-05:00

Another day done, the list not so.

I played with V and cuddled him,
but didn't write about his six month milestones.

I wiped his nose,
but didn't call the pediatrician to schedule his six month checkup.

I nursed him,
but didn't clean the pump parts so I could store some milk for the next time I am gone.

I carried my phone with me all day,
but didn't call my friend who is expecting her fourth son to soon make his debut.

I brought the clean clothes to the living room,
but didn't fold them.

I went for a walk with E, and took him to the park,
but I didn't call for more information on a potential preschool for the fall.

I picked up R from summer school,
but didn't find out who his first grade teacher will be in the fall,
nor what school supplies he might need.

I made lunch,
but not the potato salad I have been thinking about.

In my head I made my list,
then let it drift away like the clouds in the sky.
.

We didn't bring the kitchen sink ...

2008-07-09T22:28:00.004-05:00

... although E. asked if we could bring his play kitchen.

Last week, we visited the lake, stayed at my grandparents' cottage (read free vacation), boated, swam, harvested lake weeds, and fed the mosquitos.

It was nice to get away, to leave behind the daily distractions - the computer, laundry, dishes, laundry, cleaning, diapers, dishes, eating, laundry, diapers ...

I guess we didn't leave it all behind, but there is something so wonderful, relaxing, refreshing, about leaving behind so many of our *things*. I've heard it said, that no matter how big a house you have, you will find enough things to fill it up. We sure love our things here, and they are filling up all the space we have. Unpack and put away one box, and there are still more to follow. Throw everything from the floor of the living room into bags and other things will, as if by magic, appear. I've designated a basket in the corner of the room as "things to take upstairs". There are two partially unpacked boxes and another basket of "things I don't know where to put." On the back stairs reside "things to go downstairs," "things to plant," and "things that we didn't want to leave outside so they were left here instead." AD and I both seem to have inherited the mindset of "waste not, want not." Interpreted another way, you could say, we can't ever seem to get rid of any thing. This is a mild exaggeration, but true enough to affect the way we live. And, of course, the boys learn our habits as well.

Most days, thankfully, I don't worry too much about the mess, but some days it just gets to me. More things means, of course, more things for which I don't have time, don't care to take the time, to care/clean/organize/remove. Pieces of games, toys, and puzzles are spread throughout the house. I try to remember, if it is not my game, toy, or puzzle, that it is fine for the boys to play as they will, and to take responsibility for their own things. But with so many things to choose from, a missing part of one or another leaves little impression on them. I worry what lessons about consumption we teach the boys with so many things around.

Stepping back, I realize we have far fewer things than some, and we do regularly give away or donate whatever we can bear to part with. I also realize that moving 6 times in the past 5 years, 5 years during which we added two more members to our family (even if they re-used a lot of the same baby things), and during which we inherited many things from one who helped to teach us our habit, has taken its toll. I hope we hope stay here long enough to un-shop, de-clutter, and find some semblance of organization for our things. Even so, I'm sure our home will never look like a model, or have any consistent interior decoration other than 'eclectic'.

In the interim,we can visit the lake whenever *things* are fogging our vision, and leave (most of) them behind.

Now, back to the laundry ...

Ten Minutes

2008-06-27T22:41:00.004-05:00

Prompted by Jena, here I go:

Feeling exhausted, don't really know why. Too much sugar today? Or perhaps it's the punctuation after the unusually restful previous two days while E was visiting his grandparents and there were only two (humans) under four feet in the house (and two felines).

Feeling untethered, craving connection, but too tired to write, just surfing instead, visiting all you wonderful people, but almost too tired to leave comments, being voyeureuse, lurking instead. Why not get off, at least connect with the one other human in this house who is conscious?

Feeling a bit stressed I suppose. Vacation is supposed to be happy and fun. I suddenly realized that our laid back trip is coming up very soon, and no plans have been made, or at least they haven't been finalized. One must make plans, right? And charge up the portable movie player for the drive. And bring the tent. And get someone to care for the cats. And we'll only be gone 5 days and staying at the family cottage, but still ...

I am still making progress. The work room is getting more organized. Soon, I may actually be able to work in there, to cut some glass, make some progress on my project. But it feels good even just to put a few more things in order.

V is delightful at five months, eating sweet potatoes, rice cereal, and pears, playing in his jumperoo, on his baby gym, and sometimes, still, only wanting to be held. He has started to delight in baths, only an inch or so of warm water in the tub, sitting (with help) or lying down, splashing, cooing, giggling, and squealing with delight. His delight is my delight.

Didn't succeed in not editing this post, but at least I didn't edit it much.

I've been wanting to say, though, and haven't figured out how to change my profile quite the way I want it, that I go by rocketmom here, but my name is really Cheryl.

Progress

2008-06-23T22:11:00.004-05:00

We decided that we've had enough of trying to coerce E. to go use the potty when he evidently needs to, or might need to, only to have no success, followed by a dirty diaper 5 minutes later. So, we decided, it's time to put the whole process in his hands. If he asks, we'll change him, or go with him to the bathroom. Today ... he wore the same sopping wet diaper from the time he woke up, through the morning when it became dirty, and into the afternoon. Finally, at nap time (which we have re-instituted, as it is difficult to get to bed on time with the late summer light), he asked for a change. Progress!

At my stained glass class tonight, I continued working on building a lampshade. I cut 32 usable pieces tonight. Progress!

I pushed enough piles and boxes out of the middle of the living room that I could vacuum. I even vacuumed the hairy stairs. Progress!

R. had his first day of summer school - he's taking phys. ed. Summer school gym class is much cheaper than camp ... and we are *finally* getting him out to interact with his peers. Progress!

We'll take it day by day.

A Critique of My Habits

2008-06-22T21:39:00.005-05:00

Umpteen Habits of Highly Ineffectual People

Sometimes I think this should be the subtitle for a book about my life. Surely it's more than seven, in any case. It's summer! I've got plenty of ideas about where to take the boys, ways to entertain and educate ourselves, but we rarely manage to get out the door. And tomorrow, summer school already starts. Before I know it first grade will be here.

So what are these habits that keep us home and bring out my inner critic?

1. Reading. I love to read. I just devoured Three Cups of Tea in the course of two days. How, you might ask, could I do that with three boys at home? Well, I must admit I wasn't very attentive to the family for a few days, and I got less sleep than usual, as well. I found the book to be very compelling. At least it compelled me to finish reading quickly! What a treat to read about someone who is really making a difference in the world, one community at a time. Perhaps it will even compel me to get off my ... couch and make a difference myself.

2. Letting the boys lead. They want to play a game, pretend to be chefs, read some books, play outside, chase each other around the house, and, oh yes, the littlest one wants to nurse, it seems all day long lately. I imagine he's teething, because I like to have a reason for everything.

3. Trying to organize the house. We were functional after about a week of unpacking, but we still have probably a dozen left, in varying degrees emptiness, and it will still be a while before all of our things find a good place in our home. Some progress, though - the second fridge and some of our empty boxes were picked up by a willing new owner on Friday. And the walls of the basement rec/play/entertainment/family room are painted. The second couch has been moved downstairs. The CD's and DVD's are on their shelf. Now, just one more box at a time ...

4. Wandering around the echo chambers in my head. I keep telling myself the same things over and over again, but for some reason I wander back to listen again anyway.

Not really much here for the critic to pick on.

Well, I thought the reading days were a bit unbalanced. I would have liked to see more time spent with the boys.

I did that yesterday.

You should also be making more progress organizing the house.

That was the day before yesterday.

You're not taking any time for yourself or being creative.

Art class is on Monday, and who do you think the reading days were for?

You spend too much time rehashing the same situations and ideas in your head. You think about journal entries and then repeat them multitudes of times until you either write or forget. You start blog posts in your head and they are on endless loop, too.

You got me there. So if my hands are free, I'll write instead of listening to the echoes in my head. But it doesn't really hurt anyone.

I won, I won! I knew you needed to improve.

Nobody's perfect, but I'm the best me you'll ever meet.

You can go now. I don't have anything else for you to review.

Baby Daze

2008-06-18T22:19:00.001-05:00

Now I remember
that what goes in must come out-
Sweet potato poop.

Loving life

2008-06-09T22:28:00.004-05:00

Lazy days, thunderstorms, roses and more mysterious flowers blooming in our overgrown flower bed. One yellow iris feebly pokes its head out from among the mass of not-yet-blooming suspected daylillies.

Visiting family, boys playing with relatives, Grandpa seems unchanging, but Grandma looks old. Too much birthday cake but that's what parties are for. Tornado sirens intermittently throughout the afternoon, thankfully disappointed by seeing none.

Neighborhood walk and bike ride with mom, nice to have help getting out of the house, pass by future school, stop at toy store for rewards to be earned by good behavior, first visit to large indie coffee shop for small selection of sandwiches with our drinks. Exasperated when he decides to be king, blocking shop doors and insisting that each walks where he demands, pushing and hitting when he doesn't get his way. Exasperated again later when he has a dirty diaper moments after leaving the potty without any success. Boys run out of energy, briefly, for a few moments, until batteries seem magically recharged.

Come home and smell the roses, listen to baby coos, preschool giggles, and big-kid logic. Goodnight, mom; we'll see you tomorrow. Late goodnight to all. Life is good.

Summer

2008-06-08T22:32:00.007-05:00

Pulling firm teeth or
leaving the house with three boys,
both are difficult.

Outside sticky heat
rolls off in bright beads of sweat,
can't shake off the air.

Green fields fill my view
in varied hues of lawns, trees
bushes and hillsides.

Boys melt in the heat
but won't exchange favorite
cold weather clothing.

Dark skies ominous
to travelling minivan;
thunder, lightening.

Ozone-laden air
suddenly hammers the roof
and floods the roadways.

A haiku artist
I am not -writing briefly
today nonetheless.

Good to be alive -
lazy days inside and out
leave judgement behind.

Four months old

2008-05-26T17:52:00.007-05:00

You have one wild hair at the front of your head, three or more times longer than the rest, and curly. It is difficult to catch on camera, but then you much prefer to look at my face than the camera lens. When you do gaze at me, you frequently have your head cocked slightly to your right. Is it because I always carry you with my left arm?

My dilemma at the moment is whether to write a few words about these moments I won't remember except as happiness, or to enjoy your happy, alert presence while daddy has taken R & E out to run errands. You don't much like looking at the computer screen either, and my typing, as well as our play, is hampered by holding you in one hand.

There aren't currently many other options, as you are also no longer content to sit in your bouncy seat for more than a few minutes at a time. When I try to leave you in the bouncer or on your baby gym, you purposefully grasp whatever you can reach - a toy, a blanket, a burp cloth - and shove it as far as you can into your mouth. When you find that it doesn't satisfy you, you tug at the strings that move me with your tears and your little pout.

Yes, you like to play and so play we shall. You push up with your legs, so that you can stand on my lap, and then fold back down to sitting. You usually tire of this game long after mommy feels the need to do something else, or your brothers demand it. Now, while they are gone, let us play.

Finished after *all* the boys are in bed.

Looking up

2008-05-25T21:07:00.022-05:00

Good things also happened this week.

The maple trees have leafed out and while our lilac is not the color I imagined, it is still delightfully fragrant.

We finally made it to the craft store on Monday, for materials to create this token of our love.

We visited the library and brought back as many books as we could carry - about cats, dogs, tigers, a Tiger that wields a club, volcanoes, and more.

I enrolled in an art class to start in a few weeks, if at least one other student will join. I enrolled the Painter in a summer ceramics class as well. He is wait-listed.

I found a pediatrician and arranged well visits for The Painter & The Composer.

An appointment has also been scheduled for us to tour the neighborhood school at which The Painter is enrolled for the fall.

The boxes in the living room have been moved or emptied, their contents still partially strewn about.

Aimless wandering this week has apparently taken us where we need to be.

At my brother's house today, sitting in the warm afternoon sun, with my family around me, my grandmother asked me, "So are you glad you moved?"

My answer is an unqualified yes. I am in the right place. It may not always be easy, but it is where I am supposed to be right now.

Read here about something else that was up and came down to much applause.

Tough Day Wandering

2008-05-18T22:09:00.006-05:00

You can read why, below.

Instead of our shared sadness bringing us together, we somehow seemed to be pushing eachother's button's all day. Or rather, it seemed that the Painter, who was ever so close to Mira ("I like her best because she's the sweetest kitty") was provoking the rest of us. And, we were all cranky from lack of sleep last night. Completely understandable, but not what I would have wanted. Shouldn't we have banded together, had many big group hugs, been indulgent, done something creative? Shouldn't we have been more understanding that the one who protested that he loved her the most was, at least, hurting as much as the rest of us, and having not been through this before, in need of extra care himself? What about extra care for ourselves? Some of that ... but mostly the day felt like wandering aimlessly.

In the light of today, I feel again like I am wandering aimlessly. What are my goals? What is my purpose in being here? How can I find time for myself? We seem to have drifted from one thing to another this week, in this homeschooling experiment of ours. Several days with outings ended up with cranky mommy.

Am I crazy to attempt these things myself anyway? I don't easily ask for help, because I rarely really need it. I am strong and self-sufficient, am I not? I crave connection, but I rarely reach out. Here I am in my own little world, some days not even letting in the three little boys for whom I am constant companion, gofer, waitress, maid, playmate, milk factory. I want to be strong; how could it really be difficult, this thing that I am doing, raising my boys in a new city, homeschooling, potty-training, nursing.

And where is AD? Gladly busy with his business, things are moving, much interest ... but we get much less of his attention than we are accustomed to. And much more. Here we are all cooped up together in this house, with the basement playroom/entertainment room still not complete, no tv to lean on as a crutch - don't like to use it anyway, but sometimes crutches are very helpful! And I say to myself, here is my plan, get out everyday, get out in the morning, but I sometimes feel like I am dragging a mammoth behind me - I can't move until I get some help from the mammoth. How many times can I ask them to go get their shoes? And where should we go? We've been to the zoo and the nature center and the library. We've been to the playground down the street and to the one near the beach. We've been for bike rides and walks. We've been shopping, but that has its own dangers.

It would be really nice to get the stack of boxes out of the living room and the extra refrigerator out of the garage. I suppose we could just move the boxes to another room ...

Grieving in my own way, nothing seems to be right. Perhaps that is how the Painter felt all day, too.

Hole in our Hearts

2008-05-18T12:47:00.004-05:00

Mommy, before the movers come, next time we move, we should dig in the same hole where we put Mira, and see if she is still there. If she is not there, then we know she is in heaven.

She left us as she came to us, loving the warm sunshine, the outdoors, and eating tuna.

My day

2008-05-16T21:39:00.005-05:00

It was a gloriously warm spring day. I managed to get V to take a nap and the older boys to put their shoes on, and proceeded to head outdoors to enjoy the weather.

I put the new wheel on the wheel-barrow, and raked up the remnants of last week's weeding. I pulled at the overgrown grass along the fence. I opened a few boxes in the garage to find bike helmets, patio chair cushions, and (!) gardening tools. Hooray! More tools means more ways to putter in the garden! The rose bush (forest) on the side of the house has been substantially pruned ... but the nice thing about pruning is that you're never done.

At first the boys were happy to entertain themselves. Later, I just wanted to do what I wanted to do! Sorry, I'm not playing a game now. Why don't you play together? Several hours later, all hot, thirsty, hungry, and tired, they were cranky and the baby was waking up. So I finally put an end to my gardening. In addition to cranky boys for the afternoon, I suspect we all (at least I) got a bit of a sunburn (bad mommy!) but the price was worth it. I feel renewed.

Bike ride

2008-05-15T23:07:00.004-05:00

R was very sweet to me this afternoon after we returned from our walk/bike ride. He brought me two glasses of water, offered to bring me snacks, and kept suggesting that I have some coffee. You see, he wanted his happy mommy back, instead of the screaming banshee I had become as he decided to walk his bike across the busy street near our house in such a manner that in comparison a snail would have been a reckless speed demon. I guess walking his bike the way I had showed him was not interesting enough, or at any rate, wasn't his idea and therefore not worth undertaking. In any case, I calmly explained (feeling much better after reaching the safety of a confined space) that while coffee might help a "you-woke-me-too-early-in-the-morning" cranky mommy feel better, it probably would not be quite the right thing for a "the-baby-was-crying-for-twenty-minutes, the-traffic-was-crazy, and you-were-trying-to-get-run-over" overstimulated mommy. Snuggling and playing with the youngest manipulator of my heartstrings helped to cure my mood.

In other news, our sweet little kitty Mira is not doing well - eating less and less, and becoming less and less active. Her meow has shrunk with her body, to the point that it is barely audible. We are giving her the best loving care we can - medication, fluids, sponge-baths, and lots of snuggle time.

Fresh Perspective

2008-05-14T22:18:00.008-05:00

I am trying to remember to see life in front of me. Sometimes I need to mix up my routine or my schedule or my furniture or my blog to gain a fresh perspective. The header is a picture I took of some of the tulips on the south side of the house.

Walking down the stairs today, I realized I have already become accustomed to this house. I no longer notice all the details on a regular basis, but today, I saw the leaf detail at the ends of the stairway window curtain rod, and the sticker posing as stained glass on our front door.

I realize that I often would rather be in my own world than trying to keep the boys out of trouble, and keep them fed, and happy and learning. Sometimes I just want to get the laundry done, and other times I really want a break, but those moments that I am really *with* the boys are some of the best times of the day.

I also realize I think I need to give all three of the boys all of my attention all of the time. But they will be okay when I don't. It is okay to do the laundry, or rest, and it is okay if they don't get equal time.

I realize that I have been highly critical of myself since we decided to homeschool R for the remainder of the year. But, I have been reading. Today I realize I don't have to be a teacher. I am a mother. Helping with chores is learning. Playing games is learning. Reading books is learning. I am learning, as well. Together, we are finding our way.

Mother's Day

2008-05-13T16:27:00.006-05:00

Happy Mother's Day to all moms out there, even if I am a few days late.

So I'm tired of always calling my boys by such formal monikers. From now on I will use their first initials instead, or at least interchangeably.

Got items from my "wish list" from the boys. Last week R asked if I had a wish list. I said I did, in my head, and told him the two things I could think of at the moment. So, I received a new wallet and this book from the boys, and bath and body goodies from AD. I also received, one day late, a handmade ceramic heart with a butterfly engraved in it from R. Artwork, or paperweight? I'm not really sure, but I imagine I will cherish it for years to come.

Later we headed out to Grandma's house. True to her word, my grandmother refused to call V by his given name. His middle name was given to honor her late husband, but rather than being happy, or appreciative, or any of the emotions we might have expected, she instead, in the guise of AD's birthday card in January, (before V was born), indicated her displeasure with our choice for his first name, by suggesting that we call him by "any other name". She told my parents she would only call him "baby", and she made good on that promise. Oh well, we can't please everybody.

Ironically, Grandma told me on Sunday that she always liked the name Annalee for a girl, but didn't give it to either of her daughters because of criticism from her mother-in-law.

Also saw mom again, who loves every minute she gets to play with said baby, dad, who spent a good part of the day running around the backyard with the older two, and my aunts, uncle, brother, and sister-in-law. A nice family gathering, with all the advantages (e.g. people to entertain the boys) and disadvantages (e.g. people getting on your nerves). We lucked out in arriving after most of the housework was complete.

So I managed to journal/post every day for three days in a row ... now that I've taken care of missing a few days, I don't have to stress about it, and can take it as it comes. This is for me.

Shopping

2008-05-10T22:55:00.003-05:00

The mall was crowded today, at least in relative terms. That is to say, on weekdays it seems almost deserted, and today there was a healthy crowd buying last-minute mother's day gifts. (We, of course, were part of the crowd.) Temporary vendors in the centers of the mallways added to the crowd. Some stands were bustling, while at others, the people tending the tables may as well not have been there, for all the attention passers-by gave them. Indeed, some of them seemed to be elsewhere even as they sat staring.

Later, at a bookstore outside the mall, I bought some juice-flavored sugar water and sat down to nurse V. I looked for a secluded spot in the bookstore cafe, and wondered if I would be harassed for feeding my baby, as had recently occured at a "super"-store not far away. We both finished our snack uneventfully, and I laughed as I passed by this book while looking for the rest of the family.

Weeding

2008-05-09T22:23:00.004-05:00

The flower garden grows like a wild jungle at our new home. We have already discovered in it beautiful daffodils, tulips, trillium, and grape hyacinth, and await the blossoms from lilac, rose, and clematis. Periwinkle covers the entire corner of the yard beside the garage. Dandelion and violets dot the lawn with color. Other plants I can't yet name.

Today we spent the morning outside. I met the neighbor Molly, going for a walk with her three children. She told me Mondays are always free days at the zoo. We agreed to walk together to the coffee shop next week. Perhaps we will get to be friends.

The boys drew with chalk and continued to play in their crazy competitive way, while I pulled the grass out of the garden. Weeding is such a simple pleasure. It allows me to bring order to my surroundings, at least temporarily, and to discover the joys of my garden up close. It forces me to focus on what is in front of me, and allows me to bring order to my mind, at least temporarily. I would gladly have spent the entire day weeding; but the boys who are growing like weeds also needed my focus and tending.

It is amazing how easy it is to write words about my day, when I just start with a few. Life is so full of details!

In the spirit of detail, I think I must be allergic to the maple trees blooming up and down the block; a manageable side-effect of weeding.

Today

2008-05-08T22:03:00.004-05:00

Inspired by Shelli at Mama of Letters, I'll be trying to write a few words about each day. Some of them will be here, some may be kept exclusively in my journal. Here is my first offering.

Spring is in the air. Beautiful multi-hued tulips bloom in the backyard: frilly yellow ones with red striping and miniature white ones with pink tips intermingle with reds, yellows, pinks, and one purple beside the basement window.

Boys run along the paths at the nature center as if in a giant maze, until we stop and see two beavers swimming in a small pond. They might have been muskrats.

I talked with Grandma today. She still has some leg and back pain after last year's surgery, and seemed to want company. We will go visit her Sunday, for Mother's Day (mom & dad will be there, too). I learned from Grandma that it will be a day for housework, too, if the weather cooperates.

Is this normal?

2008-05-08T20:57:00.007-05:00

Boys!

It's nice that they're learning to play together, but ...

Playing in the backyard:
Inventor to Painter: Mr. Repairman, I need to fix my car.
Painter to Inventor: I'm the car breaker. I'm breaking your car.
I to P: NOOoo. I need to fix my car.
P to I: I'm going to break your car.

Playing in the living room:
Painter, while lying on top of Inventor: Here's a nice soft carpet.
I gets up.
P: Come back here carpet.
I, lying on top of P: Here's a nice soft carpet.
P gets up.
I: Come back here carpet.
This scene is from today. Yesterday it was lying on "nice soft grass" outside. The day before it was stepping on "the stairs".

Playing anywhere:
One of them: I'm shooting my bomb-shooter at you.
The other: I exploded your bomb shooter. I'm shooting poison at you.
The first: I ran away from your poison. I pushed the "die" button.

Or this:
First: I threw you in the trash.
Second: I threw you in the diaper pail.
First: You're kitty poop.
Second: You're a poopy diaper.

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Help! I'm living in a house of lunatics and they're trying to turn me into one.

Or maybe I already am crazy and this is all normal.

On my Mind and in my Heart

2008-04-25T22:54:00.010-05:00

This kitty,
beloved by all in the household, is very sick. AD has taken her to the emergency vet in Milwaukee, after being referred by the local vet. She was never big, but now she can't keep food down, and has lost a lot of weight. Local vet says there is a "mass" in her intestines. The trip to Milwaukee is to find out if there is anything we can do.

We love you Mira.

Update 4/26/08:
The bad news: Verified lymphoma. Treatment focus is quality of life.
The good news: Otherwise, her health is good. After dosing with subcutaneous fluids and prednisone, she is perkier. If we can get her to eat and gain some weight back, she may stay with us a while yet.

Update 5/8/08:
Poor girl is very weak. If she wants to get on our laps, she might try jumping, but mostly just looks at us plaintively. She is still eating and drinking and asking to go out. So we indulge her, and let her eat tuna whenever she wants, sit on our laps even during dinner, and go out to sit in the garden in the sun even when the other kitties have to stay inside. Hopes of even a partial recovery are fading, so we just try to keep her as comfortable as can be and give her all our love.

Already

2008-04-22T21:58:00.005-05:00

Already you are so big.

Gone are the tectonic ridges on your head, formed by skull plates overlapping during your birth. Gone, too, are the puffy eyes, the baby acne, your foreskin, and, mostly, cradle-cap.

Already your hands are bigger, your arms steadier; they reach out with purpose to grasp a toy, my hair, my breasts, or anything else near enough to reach.

Already you can roll from front to back.

Already you wake to let me know when you want to eat, rather than sleeping until I wake you. Already you weigh twice what you did when you were born, and your cuddly baby fat jelly rolls around your arms and legs. You have grown to fill your #2 diapers, and are outgrowing your teeny tiny newborn clothes.

Already you have adorned most of my clothes and yours with spit-up.

Already you have rejected binkies, only to later decide they are sometimes okay.

Already you have discovered that the beautiful little thumb of your right hand is soothing in your mouth, and in so doing, have already let me sleep in longer stretches.

Already you have moved to your second home.

Already you have learned to be heard in this chaotic house.

Already you laugh, coo, and smile, and you have already learned to use these talents to keep my attention. You are delighted by playing with mommy and daddy and your biggest brother.

Already you have learned that your brothers can be very loud, but they are sometimes fun to watch.

Already you look like your brothers.

The Painter at 3 months

Already your beautiful face, rapt attention, and smiles charm all who meet you.

Already your eyes are lighter; daddy says they will be like mine.

You are already three months old.

Where does it come from?

2008-04-16T22:47:00.004-05:00

I swear, now I have guilt about not feeling guilty about the right things.

I feel guilty for rather suddenly abandoning my job/coworkers/boss (although I'm sure they know there is a risk any time someone goes on maternity leave).

I feel guilty for deciding not to send the Painter to the (understaffed by our assessment and rather unappealing in any case) next school over for the remainder of his kindergarten year.

But shouldn't I feel guilty about things like not spending enough time with the boys, or not giving them all the best experiences, or buying all the best toys, or not using re-usable diapers? Ok, I do feel guilty about the last one. And, I guess I also feel guilty for dragging the Painter all over the world in his short life so that he has yet to develop any real friendships or have a birthday party with friends. That's close enough. Crisis averted.

Begone, guilt! You're not welcome here anymore.

So, now that I am in charge of educating my children, anyone have any tips, hints, ideas, or any clue what they are doing in teaching a kindergartener at home?

One Step at a Time

2008-04-13T22:04:00.000-05:00

It's been a week and a half since the movers delivered our life-in-a-truck. Time since then has been consumed with opening boxes. Sometimes we find long-forgotten treasures, or desired objects in unexpected places. Other times we find trash, or items due for unshopping.

Our house is starting to feel a sense of order, but there are still so many things to do:

AD finished the taxes yesterday and we happily will be receiving a refund.
Today, we successfully hosted a family birthday party for the Painter.
The plumber came yesterday to run a gas line to the dryer, and we have almost scaled the mountain of laundry that had grown since our arrival.
My computer was shipped back to my former employer, but I still need to send my badge and office key.
The health of our momma cat is up and down, and we may need to take her to the vet again in the next few days.
Received new cat ID tags in the mail, but still need to mail the applications for city licenses.
Need a never-ending list of miscellaneous items - ~~bath tub stopper~~, litter scoop, dish drainer, ~~recycling bags~~, kitchen pantry, bedroom curtains, bathroom shelf, ...
Still need to enroll the Painter in kindergarten for the remainder of the year. (I don't feel up to the task of home schooling right now.)
New car tags and drivers licenses
Make sure friends and family all have our new address and phone number - maybe even write some letters.

So many things leaves chaos in my mind. In the midst of it, I am easily frustrated with the boys. "Just let me finish this one thing ..." which of course isn't just one thing but fifty.

But what's important? Did we come here to set up a household? Well, yes, but that's not why we came.

Tomorrow I will try to remember to breathe, attend to the boys, and step through the list one foot at a time.

Home Again

2008-04-13T21:43:00.000-05:00

A little bit of online fun.

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Midland "You have a Midland accent" is just another way of saying "you don't have an accent." You probably are from the Midland (Pennsylvania, southern Ohio, southern Indiana, southern Illinois, and Missouri) but then for all we know you could be from Florida or Charleston or one of those big southern cities like Atlanta or Dallas. You have a good voice for TV and radio.
The Northeast
The Inland North
Philadelphia
The West
Boston
The South
North Central
What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

Turns out I talk like I'm from somewhere near here (which I am). I guess all the cross-country migrations have turned my northern Illinois accent into a southern Illinois accent, though.

Still?

2008-04-12T22:21:00.000-05:00

I thought, coming in April, it would be spring here.

Tonight the snowflakes swirl outside my window,
As sentiment still swirls in my mind.
A chaos of boxes and paper and belongings surrounds me.
I am happy/sad. I am excited/numb. I am tired.
I crave order.

Instead, the wind blows. The rain becomes snow.
The ground - too warm to accept this coat -
Turns glittering crystals back to their liquid state,
And greens the grass.

The boxes dwindle, relegated to the garage.
The dishes and pots find yet another new home.
The first crocus blooms drink in the rain.
My dreams reflect where I've been
And where I'm headed.

This is spring.

Apologetic

2008-03-24T00:04:00.001-05:00

I'm sorry this will be such a short post, but the Composer is hungry again.

I'm sorry I haven't written much lately, though there are many things I want to write about.

I'm sorry to be leaving newfound friends. I apologetically explain that it's not them that has made us leave.

I'm sorry to be leaving our few old friends in the area, even if they think we're crazy.

I apologize to the neighbors when I tell them that this is still a nice neighborhood, even if we don't choose it.

Although I haven't done it yet in person, I have, in my mind, a hundred times apologetically told my boss I won't be returning from leave. I'm sorry about the short notice, but you weren't expecting me back for a month anyway, were you? I'm sorry you'll have to find someone else to take over my tasks. I'm sorry I don't think this work is as worthwhile as you do.

I'm sorry I'll have to give back this computer.

I'm good at guilt. Now it is time for a new practice.
I don't need to apologize for being me.

Today's Small Celebrations

2008-03-20T01:07:00.000-05:00

The Composer had a nice long nap.

The Inventor had a nap for the first time in a week.

The Painter has taken an interest in folding and creatively folded all of his own laundry. (Should really include some pictures here, but let's just say, each item was folded in a different way from the others.)

Our two boy-cats made it safely to grandma & grandpa's house, on their way to our new home.

I packed a box today. Many left, but I'll take them box by box.

Dinner with friends to thank them for their role in the Composer's arrival.

Check-up today. I am apparently healthy and back to my pre-pregnancy weight! A side benefit of feeding baby all hours of the day and night.

Orange Blossoms

2008-03-11T23:06:00.000-05:00

I drink in the night air laden with fragrance;
Next year I will miss them.

Baby Love

2008-03-08T14:16:00.000-06:00

In response to the prompt from Shawn at Between the Lines, I am reaching beyond the daily trials of being mom, again, to remember the joys of babyhood.

My beautiful little one,

I love the fuzzy down covering your body, like a duckling;
your tiny toes, and your soft, smooth baby skin.

I love your milky, sweaty, scent;
part baby, part mama.

I love your already expressive face,
your mouth forming a little round 'o', as if in surprise,
and your as-yet fleeting smiles.

I love too your vocal expression,
your own language of coos and grunts,
and your contented hums while you fall asleep.

I love the way you snuggle in to my chest when you are tired,
and wiggle your way down to my breast when you are hungry.

I love the way you intently gaze at the toys above your bed,
trying to make sense of the world;
and the way you look at me with your soulful grey eyes,
trusting me completely.

I love the way your little hands reach out to grasp mine
and the way, through all the other changes, you hold me tight.

Leaping

2008-03-04T14:24:00.001-06:00

I still worry, but that doesn't mean I need to change my mind. Worry, too, is part of me.

We have made our decision. We are making our arrangements. Two adults, three boys, three cats, two vehicles, and a truckload of stuff will be moving soon to Wisconsin, an hour from my parents, and hour from my brother, an hour from my grandmother, aunts and uncles, two hours from the other grandparents, aunt, uncle, and cousins, to the land of much snow this winter and affordable housing, to a community we don't know, but will become a part of, and a place we will call home for several years.

In the end, it is a practical decision. We find two things in our new home that we can't get here: affordable housing and proximity to family. There is one thing here that we can't get there: my job. I can always get another job.

We bring our hearts and our love with us.

Be yourself.

2008-02-29T19:26:00.001-06:00

These words are inscribed on the title page of my copy of Momma Zen, but until recently, I just didn't get it. Of course I should be myself, but who am I?

What I am starting to realize, in my better moments, is that I don't have to complicate my life with labels. I don't have to fix myself. I don't have to find a new direction, or find any direction.

All I need, to be myself, is just to be: free, afraid, joyful, sad, peaceful, angry, awake, exhausted, creative, drained, engineering, nurturing, blogging, loving, changing, the same, many voices, all one, breathing, heart beating, me.

Thank you all for reminding me.

Freedom

2008-02-28T19:05:00.000-06:00

Even though I don't claim the moniker "control freak" nor even pass as one most of the time, I do like to feel in control of major life decisions. Rolling down the hill inside a hamster ball put me out of sorts, until my loving AD explained that I was really on skis, and could stop any time I like, even climb back up the hill with a bit of effort.

That is, he told me (paraphrased) "If you want to go back to work, go back to work. So, we have a house [halfway across the country]. It will be ready for us when we are ready to go. If you want to work part-time, work part-time. If you want to go back for a while to see if it will work, go back for a while." If this version of the future doesn't work for you, try on another one.

Oh. Freedom. I am still free. I can stop the ball, or the skis. I can return to my job either full or part-time. I can try to pick up contract work. I can try to pick up other kinds of work. We can stay here another couple months while I decide. We can go right away, and live off savings, and I can spend my days with my boys and exploring how I'd like to live the rest of my life. Oh. I get it.

Remind me, now, what was I afraid of?

Ball is Rolling

2008-02-27T00:03:00.001-06:00

Raw writing here. Acknowledging my emotions and trying to work through them for my own benefit. Feel free to read on, but I won't be offended if you turn back.

My thoughts are churning, swirling, as I fly head-over-heels inside the ball, rolling down the hill. I don't know what awaits me at the bottom of the hill, and I fear it. Perhaps the ball will be smashed to pieces, and life as I know it will end.

What will end? What am I afraid of losing? If I don't take chances, I risk losing myself.

My life these days consists largely of poop and pee and spit, and feeding and eating and sleeping. In between, I find myself busying myself with chores, with reading, in a desperate attempt to escape from my thoughts, those thoughts that muddy my sight, muddy my self-understanding. (They are still with me.)

Last week we went on a house-hunting trip. As we found something we liked, though it cost more than we were hoping, we put in an offer on a cute little old house with a biggish yard, two side-walked blocks from a park, walking distance to shopping, and a short drive from the shores of Lake Michigan. Closing is set for the end of March. All we await now is loan approval.

I find, in this land of bodily fluids and little rest, that I am not as confident about our choices, about my choices, as I was before little Composer was born. Things are not so serene now - I don't find myself happily watching the boys and peacefully acknowledging where I am. Everything is moving too fast. I'm not just afraid of what's happening, I'm downright terrified. I cling to the edge of the ship as it sails along, but I don't feel like I am setting the sails, or deciding which direction to go. Why? What is so scary?

I start to gain some insight, with the help of my mirror, AD. What do I want if money is no object? What do I want, if I see things with the right perspective? Nothing more than to spend time with my family, watch my boys grow and help them to learn as they teach me, to rediscover my own creative spirit, to live a little every day, rather than die a little in the grip of blinding fear of the unknown.

Ok, then it is a good decision to leave work and spend more time with my family. But when asked if I want to go back to work (or if I want to leave work) my mind seizes up and I can't answer. Why? What makes me so afraid to say "I'm quitting! I'm going to take 'their' advice and spend the next few years enjoying my babes while they are little. I'm going to live and love and create."

A big part of the answer appears to be money. We are picking up & moving across the country, to a location in which it will be difficult for me to find employment in my current field. AD's business is just getting off the ground, and may not make any money for months, or years. We will be living off of savings in the interim, and are locking ourselves into a costly (ever so much less so than in this part of the country) home loan. Now that we are investigating them in earnest, the moving costs are piling up. We are leaving behind my substantial salary and health care benefits for nothing. (No dollars that is.)

Voices in my head: "That's just not what you do! How long will our money last? What if the business doesn't become profitable on a convenient timetable? What if I need to go back to work? What if I want to go back to work?"

By moving across the country, we are cutting off a convenient "escape route" in my mind - that of going back to work, in the same place, a known quantity, a good job working on "cool" projects - just in case the need should arise.

But really, why should the need arise? We have a good standard of living, but we can afford to live on less, especially in a much less expensive part of the country. We can do without a lot of the little luxuries we have become accustomed to ... such as buying just about anything whenever we feel like it. (A side benefit from living on less might be that we are all more grateful and appreciative.) But say we really do need more money even after we cut corners as much as we are able? Well, hey, then AD, or I, or both of us can get a job. We are both employable, I am sure. Worst case scenario, if I decide I just must absolutely go back into my current profession, and I can't find a way to do it from the western shores of the Lake? Well, then, we will just have to move again. But we won't have to do that. We have other options.

What is important? Is it all these things in the house that are causing the moving costs to go up up up? Is it the "cool things" built by my current prestigious employer? Is it my fear of explaining myself to people? Is it my reputation, my salary, the "perks" of the job? Is it the warm weather and oranges growing in our backyard? Is it the number of dollar signs stored in the bank?

Jen's quote of MLK drives it home: I do this for me, but I also do it for my family. Nothing else is certain.

Identity

2008-02-04T19:01:00.000-06:00

Perhaps I fear becoming the woman that this woman finds revolting.

On the one hand, I want to be "mom" to my boys; I want to be involved at their schools, help them with homework and projects and crafts, to read to them and take them on adventures to explore the neighborhood, or the beach, or the museum. I also crave connection with other moms; I want to sit & have coffee with friends while our kids play in the park, to compare joys and headaches, to trade babysitting and parenting tips. I want to not feel so alone.

Of course, I am mom, whether I have paid employment or not. And there always seems to be time for diaper changes and laundry and dishes. But finding time for living my ideal version of motherhood is difficult to fit in with a full time job outside the house.

Then there's the other hand. What if staying at home with the boys falls far short (as it surely will) of my high expectations? Then who and what would I be? The answer is, of course, below - but apparently I have been away from my thoughts (or my paint) for too long.

Dissembling

2008-02-03T16:27:00.000-06:00

I could go back to work, throw myself into it, try to make changes that would make me happier in my career, all the while feeling like I am spending too much time away from my beautiful boys, wishing I had time to spend on hobbies and crafts, wishing I had a support network nearby, wishing I had time to meet other mothers of young children, to build a community.

Or I could quit my job and still not have time for hobbies, but the possibilities seem endless if I am not spending 40 hours per week on paid employment. I'm sure I could find some way to make some money if I need to. I can certainly find some time to connect with other moms - after all, I have to do something with the boys if I will be watching them all day. And I'm sure I can find other ways to feel useful, competent, and appreciated.

Would I really throw myself into my work and make changes to my career path while I am worrying about the babes at home? What would I do if I didn't need the money?

The choice seems apparent - leave. But for some reason I still cling to my job. Being an engineer, a "rocket scientist" is wrapped up in my identity, and it is very hard to let it go. Instead, I continue to remind myself that quitting this job doesn't mean quitting my career, even if I take a few years off. And even if I never return to paid employment as an engineer, no one can take that part of my identity away from me. When I am ready to shed it, I will.

Introducing ...

2008-01-25T17:36:00.000-06:00

the Composer.

Born Tuesday at 8:25 pm. All are healthy and tired.

Raincheck

2008-01-21T15:02:00.000-06:00

Doctor said, baby and fluid levels look good today.
Come back tomorrow ...

(37 weeks +1 day by the doctor's count)

Nesting

2008-01-19T15:23:00.000-06:00

The crib is ready in the corner of our room. The tiniest baby clothes are washed and in the dresser, next to the blankets and sheets and burp cloths. The next size clothes are easily accessible in a bin under the dresser. The baby slings (three different kinds) have been located and cleaned and are ready for use. The hospital will provide the infant car seat. My suitcase is packed. We've been reading to the boys about babies. Friends and family are on call.

But ... nesting is not resting.

Low amniotic fluids, baby too young, IV hydration. Induction if the fluid levels don't come up.

Was it all the racing around to get everything ready that caused amniotic fluid levels to drop? Or am I nesting because I sense the baby is getting ready to come?

The path of modern medicine is precaution.

My path now is to rest, and listen to my body. When I am thirsty, drink.

Written Thursday in the hospital with an IV in one arm. Fluid levels went up to doctor's satisfaction. I see her again on Monday, for another check.

Who am I?

2008-01-10T17:52:00.000-06:00

I am much more than my job, my career. I am also more than mom. I am many things, simultaneously, and serially. I am a work in progress. I am me.

Playing with paint.

New Routine

2008-01-08T21:41:00.000-06:00

I guess I'm going to have to find one - at least, that is, if I ever want to get to the computer.

The schedule we have (and which I have been a part of since yesterday) is very nice, in some ways. I get to spend one-on-one time with the Inventor in the morning while the Painter is in school, and then switch after lunch, while the Inventor has his nap.

Right now, I am practicing presence. I am enjoying watching my boys and playing with them, reading with them, and exploring the world. We have been talking a lot about the baby, who is expected to arrive now in about a month. I am trying to tune into the boys as well. The Painter seems to be excited about the arrival of the baby, wants to talk to him, feel him move, and ask lots of questions we had no idea we would need to answer for many more years. (But how does the baby get out of your tummy? How did the baby get *in* your tummy?). The Inventor, on the other hand, shows some interest, but also some apprehension. He hasn't been through this before, and it seems he is concerned about losing mommy. So I am trying to give him extra attention, reassurance, and cuddling.

I'm also listening to my body. The more I pay attention, the more I realize what a good thing it is not to be working right now. Yesterday I felt pretty good, so we did some projects and went to the library. I felt some contractions (not painful), reminding me to drink more water. Today I was tired, so I rested a lot, and let the boys play around me.

AD asked me yesterday: "So, do you miss engineering yet?" No, I don't. I have been enjoying my time off, the holidays, and time with my family - the boys, AD, and my parents, while they were visiting last week.

But back to routine. I know I will begin to think I do nothing but laundry, as that is one feeling I distinctly remember from the last time I wasn't working. And another I remember is that while I need not schedule everything strictly, if I have some ideas in mind of what I'd like to do, I am less likely to feel like I am doing nothing.

Of course, when the next one arrives, any routine aside from sleep, change, and eat will go out the window. And, that will be okay. But if I can figure out how to give myself some time now - for writing, blogging, painting, reading, whatever - I am more likely to be able to continue to give myself some time next month.

So, this being my first post of the new year, I resolve to give myself time for whatever it is I need to be me.

Blog Dark

2007-12-28T01:30:00.000-06:00

School's out,
Holiday shopping.

Cookies, pictures,
Present wrapping.

Boys running,
Toys playing.

Doctor's office,
Project making.

Family visiting,
Friends talking.

Who am I kidding?
Blog dark.

Happy New Year. I'll greet you then.

Dancing Baby

2007-12-19T01:39:00.000-06:00

Sometimes, I wish I could see what you are doing. I feel those little kicking feet and grabbing hands, the spinning and dancing. I can see your movements as I rest my hands on my abdomen, and they bounce up and down. When you are moving, I dare not use my belly as a book-rest, as the words will not stay in place.

Sometimes your head causes me to feel lop-sided, off-center. Sometimes, it is difficult to breathe. Then I gently caress your precious skull, nudge it out of the way so I am more comfortable. Sometimes you let me stay in comfort for a while before returning to your previous cozy position.

I don't remember feeling so much when your brothers were babies. Perhaps I was less attentive then, or perhaps my body was simply less worn down by the work of time and chasing two boys. There are other things that I don't remember: early contractions, not painful, but the odd sensation of an involuntary hug for my little boy, and those ailments that were probably the victims of selective memory: lower back pain, aching joints, too-frequent trips to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Too, I sometimes feel over-sized and over-stuffed, ready to bring you into this world, although by the numbers you still have seven or eight weeks left in the warm confines of my womb. I am convinced, through my hazy memory, that I didn't feel this full with my previous babies until much closer to their due dates.

It is partly this feeling of fullness, partly stories related to me by friends and strangers alike, partly the abundance of feeling, and partly a dream last spring about a baby girl that leave me with a little fantasy, despite multiple early ultrasounds witnessing to the contrary, that I am carrying both a boy and a girl. I try to enjoy this fantasy for what it is, and take no expectations from it.

I wonder if you will arrive early, if the hospital is really baby-friendly, if labor will again be induced, if I will avoid anesthesia or drugs, and if you, like your brothers, will come quickly. But your birth will be what it will be, when you are ready.

Harboring expectations would not be fair to you, my dancing baby boy, who, like your brothers, reminds me to look at the world with new eyes.

Front Porch

2007-12-15T15:56:00.000-06:00

(not raw, but half-baked)

A bird serenades me
the warm sun caresses my skin
an airplane drones its path from here to there
parrots cackle.

The buzz of a large insect catches my attention
When I open my eyes I discover instead
a hummingbird has come to visit the bird of paradise.

Cars hum along their concrete path,
not knowing I am here.

A bit of music wafts on the breeze.

Leaves, brown and dry
rustle on their limbs before
fluttering to the ground.

Wind chimes tinkle and
the rope clangs
against the flagpole
across the street.

An old man rattles past
pushing a walker
his leg bound
in a large bandage.

Mysterious specks of light
(dust, pollen, rain?)
drop from the trees
to the ground.

Baby rolls over
tells me to sit up straight
and breathe.

Flower stalks waver in the wind.

Cars drone on,
the road rumbling with their passing.

The breeze tickles my toes and
cools my cheek.

And the serenade is back.

Live now with me baby
soon you will know these wonders on your own.

Linked to Wrapped Emotions, The Gift of Every Minute.
This moment was a gift to me this week.

Precious time alone

2007-12-15T13:32:00.000-06:00

AD has taken the boys to "climb to the top of the mountain", so I have some time to myself today.

What to do?

The house is a disaster, packages strewn about from the Inventor's birthday, floor needs vacuuming, kitchen needs cleaning, laundry needs to be done, and the Painter suggested that I go to the grocery store while they are hiking, because we are all out of juice boxes (not out of juice, mind you, or milk, or water, but those juice boxes are a critical part of the Painter's kindergarten routine). And AD just asked me to check if we have any film for our old 35 mm cameras, and to see if they work, since I've been wanting to take some photographs to celebrate my gravid state.

Or, I could have a shower, or -imagine- even a bath.

Or, I could catch up on blog reading, and respond to your comments.

Or, I could dig out the Christmas decorations, now that Hanukkah is over, and do something that I do love - decorating.

But the sun on the porch is beckoning me just now, so I think, for a while, I will just go sit.

Taste of the Future

2007-12-13T19:27:00.000-06:00

I experimented with working from home today. I have been telecommuting two days a week for more than a month, but usually work from AD's office, while D watches the boys at home. Now that D is gone, I thought I would try working from home so that AD could also get some grading done ... and so that I don't have to lug this anvil of a computer up the stairs at the office.

The verdict is ... (as many of you probably already know) that it is very difficult to concentrate for any span of time on work while also watching the boys.

Today wasn't an ordinary day, as we had the Inventor's three year check-up this morning, but still, I am reminded of the difficulties. Whereas it doesn't take a lot of mental energy to fold the laundry while the boys are playing, and that and similar tasks are easy to pause and return to later, trying to figure out what it is I am supposed to be doing, concentrating on an analysis, or even thinking through a response to an email is much more difficult with the constant buzz and interruptions of life and children. (They are currently happily occupied, playing with geo-mag's, but I am sure that the minute I try to concentrate, the calm will turn to chaos.)

But today was a good trial for me in another way. I found myself tidying up this morning (nesting perhaps), and thinking that I would rather do that than my work.

That's right. Right now cleaning the house (and setting a nice centerpiece on the table) is more interesting to me than work.

I guess I'm moving in the right direction.

Happy Birthday, Dreamer

2007-12-13T00:42:00.000-06:00

You are beautiful and amazing.

Born in Colorado three years (and three days) ago, you have become quite the traveler, following mommy and daddy on our gypsy-path to three cities and two states, as we searched for a place to work, and a place to wait.

And, you will follow us again, as we search for a place to call home.

You have learned so much in such a short time.

But we have also learned from you.

Life is messy, but that is part of the fun.

Ready or not ...

2007-12-11T13:44:00.001-06:00

... change is happening.

What's happening?

For more on the details, check out AD's post.

What else?

I had at first thought my OB was being over-cautious, when suggesting I take off work at week 30 or 32. Now I understand her advice. The last few days, back pain has left me uncomfortable while I am sitting, and nearly crippled when I get up. Probably just the effects of too much exertion coupled with too much sitting in the car over the weekend, but it makes me glad I will soon be able to avoid the commuting, walking, chair-sitting, and stress that are by-products of my job.

Last but not least ...

Although a corner of my mind remains unwilling to admit that the 20th will be my last day of work, not just for 4 months, but for quite a while beyond, we have started admitting our plans to our family.

Come about April, we will move to the land adjacent to the south-west corner of Lake Michigan, although the exact location has yet to be determined. For obvious reasons, AD's mom, who lives near Boston was visibly upset by this news, while my parents, who live near Chicago, were delighted to hear it (even when we inadvertently may have given them the impression we expect on-call gratis baby-sitting services from them on a regular basis).

The two primary factors in moving to that part of the country as opposed to another are the cost of living, and, more importantly, family density. In addition to my parents, we will be within a few hours drive of my three surviving grandparents (who aren't getting any younger), a half-dozen aunts & uncles, my brother & sister-in-law who are working on adopting some cousins for our brood, and a smattering of my cousins and their families. I miss seeing my family on a regular basis, and I am excited that we will be nearer to them soon. Home is where the heart is ... and my heart is with my family.

My Mother's Life

2007-12-11T13:38:00.000-06:00

This spilled from my mind last week ... and now I have edited enough.

There was a time in my life when I feared becoming my mother. It's not that I didn't love her or appreciate her loving mothering. But, I saw her as a failure, as someone who had given up on her budding career before it ever went anywhere and became "just a housewife".

When Mom started college she wanted to be a doctor. She graduated with honors, with a BS in the sciences. At the time, though, she was engaged to my father and decided not to continue her education. She applied for a few industry jobs, but with an engagement ring on her finger, she was subject to the kind of discrimination that we, thankfully, don't see much today. The story I heard about one company's attitude was: "What if your husband gets transferred? We don't want the trouble of finding someone new then." Although she was very qualified, they didn't hire her. (And 37 years later, my father works for the same company and was never transferred far enough to consider moving the household.)

Those rejections were a good excuse to get started on a family. I was born 10 months after Mom & Dad were married. She substitute taught while pregnant with me, and didn't return to work until a few years after my brother (two years younger) was in school. That's about 8 years of being "just a mom". When she went back, it was to a teacher's assistant position: not a career I considered worth aspiring to when I was a young woman, but something that allowed her to be home when her children were.

I always thought Mom had given up on her dreams. But, in the light of my own experiences, I see that if she had really wanted to pursue becoming a doctor, had wanted to pursue a job in industry, she probably could have done so. Mom is not a much of a fighter, and it would have been difficult ... but I think that if she really wanted to pursue these career choices, then she would have kept at it longer, tried harder. Perhaps she thought that some day she would return to her dreams of a career, or maybe she didn't. But ultimately, that wasn't her choice.

When she became a teaching assistant, a lowly "teacher's aide", Mom achieved many things I imagine she wanted. Time enough for family, to raise two beautiful self-confident children who could dream of astronomical careers, time enough for religion, time enough for personal pursuits, and a job where she could work with kids and help people. Although her work was not at the top of society's standards for success, she was respected, and used her mind. She taught Sunday school, and became superintendent of Sunday school for the church. She became president of the church. She was active with her sorority, and held various leadership positions. She read, a lot, and shared her love of reading with me. She sang in the church choir. She has done many wonderful, worthwhile things with her life, even without an ambitious career.

When I was younger, it was hard for me to accept my mother's choices. The conflict I feel about leaving my career now leads me to believe that it is still difficult for me to accept, especially from myself. How can I, that young girl that dreamed of the stars, accept that my career is no longer important to me, that it's okay to let it go? The path is right in front of me.

In the past, I have feared becoming my mother. But I am no longer afraid. With the haze of fear removed from my eyes, I recognize what a wonderful role model she has been for me. And I see that she still has much to teach me. I will live, and love, and move in new directions.

Thanks, Mom.

Deadlines

2007-12-03T12:50:00.000-06:00

Now that I know when I'll be taking off work, I am feeling a lot of (self-induced) pressure to leave things in the best state I can for those who will take over for me. Even before the 20th, there are deadlines, and oh-so-much to do. So while I have lots of ideas for new posts, they'll have to wait until I feel more caught up. One thing at a time, step by step, I'll get there.

My book picks for kids

2007-12-02T08:12:00.000-06:00

In response to Bella's question (#7), here are some of my favorite picture books for 3-6 year olds.

The Umbrella, by Jan Brett. I love this book, which was given to us as a gift several years ago. The vibrant depictions of the cloud forest and its denizens beautifully illustrate a cute story that I don't mind reading again and again. As an added bonus, the story introduces the reader to simple Spanish phrases courtesy of a tiny green tree frog. Read it. You won't regret you did.

Zin! Zin! Zin! a Violin by Lloyd Moss, illustrated by Marjorie Priceman. Whimsical illustrations of a small orchestra (and some attending animals) accompany delightful rhythmic verse about different musical instruments. We received this book and the next few while participating in the Brighter Vision Learning Adventures program.
How Will We Get to the Beach? by Brigitte Luciani, illustrated by Eve Tharlet. As the cover so aptly states, this is a "guessing-game story" in which the reader is encouraged to help remember everything that the protagonist Roxanne and her baby want to take to the beach. Colorful illustrations. Originally translated from German. Although we have the English hardcover, it is apparently also available in a Spanish/English bilingual edition.

I love you Stinky Face by Lisa McCourt, illustraed by Cyd Moore. A sweet story with colorful illustrations about the depths of a mother's love for her imaginative child. Little did I know there's a whole series of "Stinky Face" books. Check it out at Amazon.

The Inventor (turning 3 next week) just woke up to confirm that these are some of his favorite books, too. Along with half the bookshelf, I suspect. :)

The Painter's current favorite is Bad Kitty, by Nick Bruel. The story steps through the alphabet four times exploring funny foods and crazy kitty capers. I find it to be longer than I have patience for, but it apparently well tickles the five-year-old funny bone.

Good morning everyone!

Happy Birthday to Me

2007-12-01T15:29:00.000-06:00

Thirty-six years ago today, I was born. In honor of my birthday, I am participating in the LTMD Group writing project. It has taken me all week to come up with these rules or I might have posted sooner. But, better late than never ...

The Law According to Me
or, "10 Eclectic Rules to Live by in the order that they occurred to me"

1. Stop & smell the roses. Although it may be cliche, this is one of my favorites. I love roses. I love the fragrance of roses. I try to always stop and smell the roses (and lavender and rosemary, etc.) and in so doing, remember to appreciate the beauty in life.

2. The minivan is not a mini Cooper. It's always bigger than you think it is. Corollary: it's not any cooler with those scratches on the bumpers.

4. Communicate, part I. No one can read your mind. For that matter, no one can read my mind. So if you have something to say, just say it.

3. Communicate, part II. Yelling is not talking. Whining is not talking. One "very" is enough. I can't understand when you talk with your mouth full. I can't translate meow-ish or woof-ish or Painter-ish or Inventor-ish. If you want mommy to answer you, then please speak calmly in English.

5. Make love not war. This one is tough to manage even in the microcosm of our own household, but as the benefits are great, it is worth trying.

6. Take time to reflect. Really. If I did this more often, writing down ten rules to live by might come more easily.

7. Write. In your blog or your journal, or in letters to friends, or a poem. Writing helps me connect with my emotions, to understand my feelings; I get lost much more easily when I neglect to write.

8. Turn off the TV. This is second nature in our household by now. We have a wonderful wide-screen flat-panel TV that gets, on average, an hour of use each day. Poor thing probably feels neglected.

9. Get out of the house. There are always things to do around the house, but you'll be happier if you get out and away from the usual distractions.

10. Celebrate life. On your birthday and everyday. Celebrations don't need to be extravagant to be beautiful. Life is a wonderful journey. See rule #1.

The Road Not Taken

2007-11-28T12:53:00.000-06:00

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

Then took the other as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet, knowing how way leads onto way
I doubted if I should ever come back

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood
And I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference

Robert Frost

Time Compresses

2007-11-28T11:53:00.000-06:00

At my OB appointment yesterday, I asked my doctor when she thought I should go on maternity leave. I had been planning on 38 weeks, as that is what I did for the first, and it seems to be some kind of standard. I was thinking (hoping?) that she would say I should go out a few weeks earlier, but her response floored me. "How about 30 weeks?" Um, that's just two weeks from now (different due date than I used for my countdown). "Well, how about 32 weeks then, but if you feel like you need to take off sooner, just do it, and we'll make the leave retroactive." Um, okay ...

Well, that certainly puts a new frame on things!

I told my boss this morning that I would be going on leave before the end of the year, that my last day would be December 20. What I didn't have the courage to say yet is that I won't be coming back.

AD and I talked about my reluctance to make my decision final last night. I told him I am scared to do so, but I don't know why. (Does it really matter why? Will naming my fears make them go away?) But when he posed the question, "why would you go back?", all I could come up with is how much work there is still to do on these projects, and my sense of obligation to those projects and to the people involved.

But I also have obligations to my family, and most importantly, to myself.

As the doctor said, "the work will always be there." My boss will find someone to take over while I am on leave, whether I have finished 2 or 5 or 28 things on my to do list before then. And once someone else is handling the work, I'm sure they can capably continue to do so when I don't come back.

Finally Finished (about books)

2007-11-27T11:58:00.000-06:00

Over the long holiday weekend, I finally had the time, leisure, and will to finish reading Theodore Rex by Edmund Morris. When I started the book, in April, I thought that it was well written and engaging, relating interesting stories about the 26th president that I had either not known, or not remembered from high school history class. But by the end of the 500-odd pages of prose, I was struggling to finish, and came to the conclusion that the text was several hundred pages too long. If I hadn't realized, about 2 weeks ago, that the last two hundred pages of the volume were end notes, I might have finally given up, and given the book back to its owner without finishing. That says a lot, as I normally hate to leave something unfinished. (Other books that I have found difficult or uninspiring after a while just end up back on my shelf, put aside for a later date.)

After that tome that Teddy himself might have enjoyed, just as, by all accounts, he enjoyed a chewing through a thick slab of meat at the dinner table, I opted for these 450 pages of cotton candy, which I finished in less than 24 hours. An entertaining yarn, if you know about the dragons of Pern, but confusing, and not worth figuring out, as AD tells me, for the uninitiated. Nonetheless, for me, Dragons Blood by Todd McCaffrey was just the perfect antidote to give my mind a break before continuing through my reading list.

What Madeleine Albright Told Me

2007-11-26T19:07:00.000-06:00

Last spring, AD started working with a career coach. After about a month, as part of the process, the coach asked to have a joint session with me. He asked me to name three people I admire, who could serve as role models for my life. I named my mother and father, and he suggested that I name the third person from outside my family. Quick, the first person that comes to your mind. ("The first thing that comes to your mind" seemed to be one of his favorite phrases.)

Me: Okay. Madeleine Albright.

Why I thought of Madeleine Albright, I don't really know. In fact, I don't really know much about her, at all, except that she was the first woman who held the position of U.S. Secretary of State. I also imagine that she is a strong woman, and I have heard that she attained this powerful position after raising a family.

So then the coach asked me another on-the-spot question of the sort I'd rather avoid: "If you could talk to Madeleine Albright right now, what would she tell you?" (Quick, the first thing that comes to your mind.)

Me: "You don't have to choose."

Coach: "What don't you want to choose?"

Me: "Between work and my family."

~~~~~

(In response to your comments on my previous post.)

Decisions have always been difficult for me. When I took this job (only a little more than a year ago), I thought about it for nearly a month before deciding not to take it, and subsequently changing my mind in light of a change in circumstances. Now, I've been deliberating on the choice to leave the same job for more than six months. I feel sometimes like I am a daisy being picked "now she loves her job, now she doesn't, now she stays at work, now she quits."

I have made my choice, but it is very difficult for me to admit that. Perhaps I am waiting for circumstances to change, or for February, or for the last reservations to fall away. Perhaps I am still waiting for certainty.

I know that I am following my heart. I know that when I choose to leave, I can also choose to return. I know that nothing is forever. But living with that knowledge and accepting it is a daily challenge for me.

I repeat myself

2007-11-25T01:59:00.000-06:00

Am I doing a dis-service to myself and society by choosing to opt-out of the full-time workforce? Am I really choosing to do so, or is my choice so constrained by societal norms that I don't even see it?

What are my constraints? The commute that makes it impractical to stop home and see the boys during the day. Available, but limited telecommuting. My energy, which waxes and wanes on a random schedule because of the pregnancy hormones. Then, there's a a household to run. Oh, I'm by no means doing this alone, but there are some details which seem to busy me more frequently, as mom, than anyone else in the house: Holidays are coming - what gifts should we get? When should we have our celebrations? What should we eat? When should we get the groceries? The Inventor's 3-year checkup needs to be scheduled. So do dentist appointments for the boys. And we need to get things for the school food drive.

More insidiously, I wonder if things are being done the way I would do them, if I were at home. How have we gone through so many paper towels and so much laundry detergent in the past few months? Are the boys getting adequate stimulation while I am at work? Is the Inventor learning his letters? Is the Painter getting enough intellectual challenges to supplement kindergarten (which is socially, but not mentally challenging for this one)? Are the boys missing out because D doesn't drive and can't take them as many places as I think I would? Fortunately I don't wonder about these things too much. But I suppose they do affect my thinking when I consider whether I would rather work or stay home.

But beyond the constraints, I think taking some time off to be "just a mom" is my excuse to be me. Societally, raising kids is generally seen as an accepted (although under-compensated) alternative to working, whereas quitting to "find oneself" is seen in a much less favorable light. I say "societally" but these attitudes are apparently well-ingrained in my mind, as well.

Still, I repeat myself. I have twice before left my career with no intention to return. Once was several years before the Painter was born, and once when he was not quite one-year old. I have some idea what it will be like to be home with the boys, although three will certainly be different than one. And I also know that just as I left twice before, I returned twice before. I repeat myself.

I fear that rather than finding new paths, I will lose myself in mothering as much or more than I am lost right now. I fear that I will regret leaving my job at a place others only dream of working. I fear that my mind will atrophy. I fear that leaving my income now will limit our lifestyle and future choices. I fear that moving closer to family, I will miss the mild winters in this part of the country.

But does any of that really matter? I am drawn right now towards freedom and away from the daily grind. I am drawn towards the beauty that my boys bring to my life. I am drawn to the connections of family. I am drawn to explore my dreams, to create, to live consciously. I choose now to listen to my thoughts and dreams and inspirations, and when the opportunity arises, take incremental steps to make them come true.

It's okay that I repeat myself. I have done what seemed right at the moment and I will continue to do so.

Today ...

2007-11-19T12:50:00.000-06:00

... is a day for working, despite the long garbled post I've been trying to untangle for more than a week. Maybe I'll be able to finish it over the holiday weekend. ;)

Habitually

2007-11-15T18:11:00.000-06:00

Thanks to Mika, I have been tagged for my very first meme. That's some kind of milestone, isn't it?

RULES

A. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning.
B. Each player lists 6 facts/habits about themselves.
C. At the end of the post, the player then tags people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

Without further ado:

1. I wake up most mornings without an alarm. Unless you count the sound of the Painter jumping off his bunk. Or the pitter patter of the Inventor's feet. Or the cats scratching at the carpet.

2. When I drink coffee, I drink it fru-fru. With milk, or cream, and chocolate or vanilla or almond syrup and, when it comes from a bona fide coffee establishment, whipped cream on top, too.

3. Reading other people's blogs is quickly becoming an addictive habit. Have you posted something new yet? How about now?

4. Being late. Punctuality just isn't that important to me, although I make an effort for the sake of those around me. I'm amazed that we've actually managed to drop the Painter off at kindergarten on-time most days.

5. Procrastinating. I think most of my previous posts about habits relate somehow to procrastination. Sometimes there just seem to be so many better things to do than what it is I am supposed to be doing. Or, it will surely take a long time to do that, so there's no point in getting started right now. Or ...

... maybe I'll finish this meme later.

Tagging Lilian. You can use some more material for GloBloPoMo, right?

Updated to correct the spelling of Lilian's name. Sorry 'bout that!

From the mouths of babes ...

2007-11-12T12:46:00.000-06:00

At the breakfast table Saturday morning, as A.D. and I explain to D. the subtle difference between "commercial" and "advertisement".

Inventor: "Daddy, commercials are shows we don't want to watch."

Blog Stew

2007-11-08T15:16:00.001-06:00

Where do you keep your links until you get around to blogging that idea that is brewing in your head?

Some of the things I write about just need to come out for my sanity. But sometimes they roll around in my mind for a while, brewing and stewing. I read an interesting article, and think that I want to address it, but feel that the post is not ready to spring forth full-formed from my mind. And then I see another post on a related topic. Ok, great, more fodder for the mill. But ... where do I keep this list of articles and links until I am ready to use them? Right now I have a half million (or a half dozen) tabs open in Firefox, so I can keep doing other things without losing reference to or intention to write about the articles I found so interesting. I could bookmark the articles, but I fear I'd never find them, since my bookmarks run off the page. (Well, Ok, I COULD organize the bookmarks but isn't that a little bit like organizing the junk drawer?)

Any tips for the bloggy neophyte?

Beautiful Boys

2007-11-07T17:27:00.000-06:00

Despite my frustrations and imperfect momminess, we have two beautiful boys.

The Painter is exhibiting a delightful curiosity. Last night during his bath, he asked,

"How can the water stay in the tub or go out of the tub just if we touch this button?" To which I responded with a mechanical explanation of the mechanism. "How can the water just come out of the pipes?" More explanation, including the sewer line and water treatment. "How do they get the pee out of the water?"

Later, "How can we feel when we need to pee?" "I don't know, honey."

It's a mystical world at 5 years old, isn't it?

-----

This morning, the Inventor climbed in bed with us. He snuggled quietly for a little while, and then announced "Dis is my middle finner," holding the middle finger of one hand with some grasping fingers from the other hand. "Dere are two finners on dis side and two finners on dis side." There sure are. How did you get so smart?

Next, he said something not quite comprehensible to my still sleepy mind, while holding his index finger. I said "that's your pointer finger." The Inventor corrected me, "No da's my mommy finner. Dis is my pointer finner" (grabbing the third finger on the same hand) "an dis is my daddy finner an dis is my [Painter] finner." Oh. I learn something new every day.

Bad Mommy Moment

2007-11-07T10:57:00.000-06:00

An exchange between me and the Painter.

Me: Ok, time to get your shoes and your sweater on so we can go to school.

Subtext: We are already running late.

Realization, as he looks in the closet for his shoes. They are on the porch covered in dog crap.

No problem, he can wear some other shoes today.

Me: I just remembered, your shoes are on the porch because you stepped in dog poop. Why don't you wear your Buzz Lightyear shoes or these neat boots instead.

Show the Painter two slightly small pairs of shoes that he has barely worn.

Painter: Those boots aren't neat, they're just brown.

Frustration, because he said he liked them in the store.

Me: Well, I like them, but how about your Buzz Lightyear shoes then.

Painter: I don't like Buzz Lightyear.

Ditto on the frustration.

Me: Well, your Curious George shoes have dog poop on them, so you have to pick a different pair.

Painter: You can just clean them mommy.

I don't want to clean them. I have my work clothes on, and I don't want to get them all wet and dirty. And I have to get to work because I have a morning deadline, and I did things I wanted to do instead of finishing the work last night. And we're already late, so I don't have time to clean them.

Me: I can't clean them right now. They'd be all wet and then your feet would be all wet and cold.

Painter: That's okay for me.

I go outside and look at the shoes. They're not really dirty, they just stink.

Me: No, you need to pick a different pair.

Painter: No, you can just clean them.

Me: NO I CAN'T.

AARGH! Why can't he just cooperate.

Well, you can see where this is going. The situation didn't improve any when A.D. came to support my position, or when I offered the even smaller pair of shoes that the Painter wore all the time before getting his new ones. I'll spare you the rest of the ugly details. Suffice it to say, things got worse, not better, and A.D. and I both left the house with the Painter in time-out, and without taking him to school, leaving D. to clean up the psychic mess.

Mistake #1: Assuming that ANY change is no big deal to the Painter when it is not of his own making.

Mistake #2: Going by hearsay. The shoes weren't really that bad, and in retrospect probably could have been cleaned sufficiently by running around on the dewy grass.

Mistake #3: Mis-judging who needed a time-out. If I had listened to my own subtext in the moment, I might have been able to put it aside and come up with some perspective. What's important, my work deadline? my clothes? or my son?

Update: The teacher says, next time, to bring him in bare feet.

On better days, I notice the world

2007-11-06T15:08:00.000-06:00

I stop to inhale the perfumed fragrance of lavender roses outside the office.

I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin.

I look up and with my eyes I trace the barely discernible outline of the mountains through the thick haze.

I hear big band jazz playing at the store, and my feet start to move in time.

I bring back a beautifully contrasting bouquet of red roses and miniature purple and yellow iris.

I feel hunger rumbling in my stomach and savor my lunch.

I feel the baby moving in my belly and I :)

Housework and Hormones

2007-11-04T18:04:00.000-06:00

I've been furiously running around the house today, trying to clean things up, trying to organize and hide the clutter that prevails with ~~three~~ two boys leaving a mess all the time, and one very helpful au pair moving it to anywhere there appears to be space. Actually, running around is something of an exaggeration, since I haven't had much energy today. I'm only six months pregnant (approximately) but today and yesterday I feel like I am ready to give birth. Or at least ready to be done with being pregnant. The crazy hormones have me feeling like I'm riding a roller coaster -- right now I am sliding down, down, down.

The truth is, we have a lot of things, but the house isn't in as much a state of clutter as is my mind.

Articulate and I had a long conversation last night (date night, courtesy of D.). We discussed such things as why it doesn't really make sense to budget right now although I worry about finances and health care costs after I leave work, how long A.D. will continue to apply for new faculty positions, and where we really want to move if interesting post or a hypothetical one like it does not work out. Among the issues raised in this last part of the discussion was whether we should consider career options for me (in my current career) as part of our move. I said, I don't wish to consider them. I no longer enjoy my work, and I can't see wanting to come back to it anytime soon.

And then these doubts begin to plague my mind again. Why do I not enjoy my work now, when a year ago it was fine, and 1.5 years ago I was having a pretty good time? Is it just the pregnancy hormones? To which Articulate astutely asked, "What do you want right now? Do you want certainty?" Well, maybe. Although I know in my mind that nothing in life is certain, perhaps my heart still hungers for it.

Finding no certainty, I think I'll eat chocolate.

My Inner Demons

2007-11-02T17:08:00.000-05:00

"I don't know ..."
"I don't like ..."
"I should really ..."
"What if ...?"
"How can I ...?"
"I shouldn't ..."
"How did it get to be this late?"
"I didn't ..."
"But ..."
"I can't ..."
"I'm wasting time."

They multiply, these demons. One begets another and then another. Without moving a leg, I run from them to distraction and try to hide away, but they follow me, because they are me, and in distraction they multiply some more. They tie me to my seat without any rope because that is where "I am supposed to" be.

Today, all I really want to do is cry.

When I do, perhaps the storm will pass and I will at last be still.

Halloween

2007-11-02T01:04:00.001-05:00

The kitty ghost turned into a regular ghost, and the finishing touches were courtesy of D.

The Inventor is in a state of perpetual motion, so it's difficult to catch him in a pose which not only shows off his costume, but also what a cutie he really is.

Halloween cookie creation was Monday's entertainment.

Lucky I only fear the worst

2007-11-01T18:44:00.001-05:00

These scary stories and Lillian's Very Bad News have me thinking about how lucky I am.

I have a job that pays the bills (even though rent is $2000/month) and subsidizes health care premiums for the whole family. We can afford quality child care (and I highly recommend the au pair program as an affordable means of child care, especially if you have more than one child needing care). Although there is no paid maternity leave, I am eligible for short-term disability pay for approximately the first six weeks after the baby is born, and I live in one of the very few states with paid family leave.

Nonetheless, I am contemplating leaving all of this behind. No - I have decided to leave, although I give myself permission to change my mind. I am afraid of what may await me when I leave my career behind, both personally and financially. But I am also drawn to spend more time with my boys, so that I can learn again the lesson that Articulate Dad and I used to practice, "Live each day as though it were your first, with the wide-open, wondering eyes of a child."

Articulate has recently applied for a very interesting interdisciplinary academic post, and we are keeping our fingers crossed that it will work out. Of course, I want it to work out because it could be very personally rewarding and satisfying for A.D. But I also have selfish motivations in that it would ease my fears, and make it easier to explain why I am leaving work. But what if he doesn't get the position? Is it irresponsible of me (us) to leave my job, this source of stability and security?

I want the freedom to choose my life, but I fear that my choices will not yield the results I expect, that I may end up in a scary story of my own making.

I would do better to remember that security is an illusion, and that all things in life are temporary. In the recent California fires, all we suffered was some bad air quality, but certainly a lot of people learned a lesson in the impermanence of all things.

Fear is a part of life. But I can let go of my fear, and trust that everything will turn out all right.

Recuperation

2007-10-25T22:33:00.000-05:00

I spent two days at home to recuperate, but didn't end up doing much resting on either one. I did take some time for myself on Monday, listening to an article about Opting Out from North Carolina public radio. I particularly liked a comment from one of the callers, Anna, who had left her high-powered career in Boston to move to North Carolina where her husband pursued his dream to be a school teacher and she stay home with their child. In Boston, he had been a stay-at-home dad while she worked, but then she decided to "opt out" of her career, and they opted into a different lifestyle in which, she recounts, "I've never been happier and I've never been poorer in my whole life."

That kind of testimonial is important for me to hear. As much as we all know that money can't buy happiness, I certainly have reservations about leaving work, partly because of the (somewhat irrational) fear of not having enough money.

Now here's my picking and choosing mind at work again. Just because money can't buy happiness, does that mean I'll be happier with less of it? More to the point, will I be happier if I leave work than if I stay?

The answer to that question can, in part, be found in the two days I was just at home. As I mentioned, I didn't actually spend much time resting while at home. In addition to listening to other women talk about being poor and happy, enjoying some time to myself, enjoying some time with my boys, and doing some work, I did something just a little bit creative. I figured out, all on my own, without a sewing machine, how to convert some of A.D.'s old T-shirt's into Halloween costumes for the boys. While the "kitty ghost", for the Painter, still needs a little work, the Inventor's pumpkin costume turned out pretty cute. (Pictures coming soon.)

Thinking about that simple, creative, loving act, making Halloween costumes for the boys, makes me smile.

A Day Off

2007-10-22T13:06:00.000-05:00

Not exactly a chatauqua ...

I am under the weather today, having finally caught the cold that has transited the rest of the family. The funny thing is, I keep thinking, not of resting, like I should in order to recuperate, but of all the things I might be able to get done today. You see, it's Monday, so our au pair D is on the job, entertaining the boys, and I have some time to myself. Since I actually managed to finish the laundry over the weekend, I have only non-routine tasks pestering my mind. I have a package to box up and send to a friend in Denver, need to visit the craft store to get some felt for making Halloween costumes out of some old shirts before the Halloween party at the library on Wednesday evening, need to pick up some groceries (especially a lot of tissues!) ... etc. But first, I'll take some time to collect my thoughts, which are sometimes hard to find amidst all the clutter in my head. And maybe then, I'll take a nap. :)

Holding out until February

2007-10-18T17:49:00.000-05:00

My due date is in February, and I've been planning to work until then. Financially, it makes a lot of sense, since I would not only earn 3-4 more months of regular income, but also be eligible for 6-10 weeks of disability pay plus 6 weeks of paid family leave from the state. That's 3-4 months of paychecks from the state, without having to do one lick of engineering work (we all know that having a newborn at home is also a lot of work). And, health insurance is undoubtedly cheaper while working than if I was paying COBRA.

All that said, it sure is hard to stay focused on the job these days. Sure, part of me says, "well, now that I've made the decision to leave, I ought to do a bang-up job, and get everything finished and in order before I go." But ... I've never been very disciplined. Having made the decision to go (tentatively, arduously, and over the course of months), I'm already mentally & emotionally on my way. My physical self is here at work, but it doesn't accomplish much without the rest of me.

Exploring New Cities (Virtually)

2007-10-18T16:16:00.000-05:00

"After explaining themselves to befuddled family and friends, they packed up and moved across the country."

Having decided to do the same, it is nice to know we are not alone. The "explaining ... to befuddled family and friends" is one of the things that makes it difficult to go. Not only do we have our own fear of how we will sustain ourselves to deal with, but also the fear that no one else will understand.

I have added some lists to the sidebar: what we are looking for in a place to live, and possibilities we are currently considering. I put them in the sidebar so I can look at them often, edit as needed, and feel like we are making progress in this endeavor. In steering a new course for our lives, it is more productive to set our sights on our destination than focus on why we're leaving this place we've started from.

Articulate thinks it may be more difficult to live near family than elsewhere, because, in seeing family more often, we will have that much more explaining to do. But I think that if we are confident in our course it won't matter how often we are interrogated. As with the same kinds of questions from our children, we can explain until we run out of patience, and continue nonetheless to do what we feel is best.

Guilt (part 2)

2007-10-16T17:48:00.000-05:00

This guilt has more to do with keeping my job than leaving it.

I feel incredibly guilty for blogging and wandering the internet as much as I do during the day when I am supposed to be working. This, of course, only serves to, on the one hand, convince me that I don't really like what I am supposed to be doing, and, on the other hand, make me feel bad about working so that I like it even less. I'm sure this guilt is a good part of the reason that I feel emotionally numb by the end of the day.

I don't want to feel numb. I want to live!

Guilt

2007-10-16T16:54:00.000-05:00

Once the flood gates open ...
... you get to hear about all the things that have been stewing in my brain for the past week.

One of the things that makes it difficult for me to say I will leave my job is guilt. This guilt comes in several forms.

I feel guilty that by leaving, I will be treating the people I work with badly, when I have been treated so well. I know my coworkers are very busy, and my boss is looking to expand the department, and people in my field are in pretty high demand right now, so if I leave, won't I be leaving them in a lurch? If I analyze this guilt, I realize how irrational it is. First, I am making assumptions about how much I am needed and how much I will be missed that are probably somewhat exaggerated. Secondly, I have been treated well and well-compensated for the work I have done, and will do until I leave. That compensation is not for future work, work that I can leave for some other engineer who wishes to be well-compensated. I am sure I am not paid any better than my peers for what I do, so I shouldn't sell myself short by feeling an obligation to the company because of my current compensation. People, my boss in particular, may feel disappointed that I am leaving, but I need to remember that disappointment is unavoidable in life, sometimes, and disappointment is not injury. I am not treating someone badly by disappointing them. (If I tried to avoid disappointment at home I might feed my boys sweets all day and give them anything they asked for. Would this be in their best interests and "treating them well"? Absolutely not!)

Another kind of guilt I feel about leaving work is what Articulate has likened to survivors guilt. Why should I be able to take off from work, to leave the "daily grind" when so many people need to work to make ends meet? Isn't it somehow wrong for me to leave? Irrational, I know, but present nonetheless.

Then there is the financial guilt. I feel that by leaving work I put our future financial well-being at risk. We will be drawing down savings instead of increasing them. This goes against the practical German-heritage Midwest no-nonsense upbringing I had. How can I possibly take off work indefinitely and still expect to have money left for my children's college education and our old age, not to mention any emergencies that come along? But, I must remember, I'm not in this alone. As A.D. reminds me, he intends to make his business profitable, and maybe a lack of my income will help to motivate him towards success. Besides, I am an intelligent and capable person. While I may not be able to earn as much money in another line of work as I do currently, I am sure I can bring in some income if it becomes necessary. And, I might even figure out how to make money doing something I enjoy, if I stop spending so much of my time doing something that I don't.

Love-Hate Relationship

2007-10-16T16:29:00.000-05:00

It's becoming clear to me that I don't really have a love-hate relationship with my work so much as I have an apathetic relationship to my work. I like the pay, the adult interaction, the recognition from co-workers and my boss, that I feel competent and respected. The work mostly bores me. The projects are cool, but they don't drive me. Nothing about the work seems to really excite my passions, although they used to, when I first started this career. Now ... my passions lie elsewhere.

This became more clear to me last week, while I listened to a news report about a road-rage drag-racing incident, in which some innocent bystanders in a parked car were struck, and a 5-year-old boy killed. Of course, this hit very close to home, because the Painter is 5 years old. I thought to myself, "Life is too precious to waste doing something I don't want to be doing." And, "We need to get out of this place." Not that bad things only happen here - I know they can happen anywhere - but why stay in a place we don't really like, when the only thing keeping us here is a job I don't really like?

Presence

2007-10-11T18:24:00.000-05:00

Why do I always find myself shopping? I often don't even end up buying anything, as I finally come to the conclusion that I don't really need any of the things I've been browsing, and if I did, why would I want to pay shipping for them from online - I might be better off going to the store - where I will probably not find what I want, and head back to the internet. I can spend hours in a similar pursuit, looking for a place to visit for a long weekend, but coming to the conclusion that it costs a lot to go somewhere even for the weekend, so maybe I'd rather save that money for a real trip later, that I probably also won't plan.

It's as if I am casting about, looking for what it is that I really want, hoping that I'll come across it in my random searching. But somehow, I doubt that I'll find it online, or in a store. The answer to that question has to come from within. And the only way I will find the answer, is by stopping these escapist activities, and being present to the thoughts that cross my mind.

To be fair ...

2007-10-11T14:17:00.000-05:00

Our current locale does have some redeeming qualities.

1. Citrus trees in the backyard
2. Ornamental trees and shrubs flowering virtually all year long
3. Only an hour from the beach (used to be closer)
4. Mountains practically out the back door (subject to smog)
5. Lots of cultural opportunities (if you don't mind the traffic and crowds)
6. Long growing season (bring your own water)
7. No shrug-your-shoulders-up-to-your-ears-to-keep-warm- even-with-scarf-hat-and-coat cold weather

Reasons to Love Hate this Place

2007-10-11T01:51:00.000-05:00

I mean, of course, the tangle of freeways in the midst of which we live.

1. Traffic
2. Sprawl
3. Crowds
4. Smog
5. Housing costs
6. Summer heat waves
7. No insulation
8. Too many chain restaurants
9. Too few sidewalks
10. No snow

Outing

2007-10-08T13:54:00.001-05:00

Not sure if I have any readers yet, but here's some news if I do:

My husband is Articulate Dad. I'm getting tired of referring to "my husband" and "my five-year old", etc., so I will adopt A.D.'s names for us all. In other words, I am RocketMom (a.k.a. Rocket), our five-year old son is the Painter, and our 2.5 year old son is the Inventor. Look for the new (old) pseudonyms in upcoming posts.

Remember This

2007-10-08T13:52:00.000-05:00

What is Success?

To laugh often and much;

To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;

To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;

To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;

To leave the world a bit better, whether by
a healthy child, a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;

To know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived;

This is to have succeeded.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Weekly Ritual

2007-10-07T17:14:00.000-05:00

It's Sunday again. Almost time to go back to work. Where did the weekend go? I suppose I had better do some laundry so that I have something to wear this week that fits. At least it's only a four-day week, as I am on a 9/80 schedule. What should I do on Friday, my day off?

[To do list starts streaming through my head.]

No school on Friday, either. Maybe we should all go on a trip? I've been thinking about that for some time, but haven't yet planned anything. Plenty of promising locations within a few hours drive ... but then, it can be such a hassle to travel with the family. And who has energy to plan anything? I'd say we could just pack up a tent and go - find somewhere ... but I've become convinced that there are perpetual crowds everywhere in this part of the state, and without reservations we won't probably find anywhere to stay.

Excuses.

Again it boils down to the question: What do I really want?

Chautauqua

2007-10-06T18:02:00.000-05:00

I've loved the word, and the concept, of chautauqua ever since I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance more than 10 years ago. To me, there is something very romantic about the idea of escaping into the wilderness on my own, to face my bewildering thoughts head-on, with no distractions, to empty my mind and, I imagine, return feeling centered, refreshed, and with a renewed understanding of who I am and what is important to me.

I just discovered that chautauqua doesn't, generally speaking, mean what I thought it meant - Merriam-Webster online defines it as ": any of various traveling shows and local assemblies that flourished in the United States in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, that provided popular education combined with entertainment in the form of lectures, concerts, and plays, and that were modeled after activities at the Chautauqua Institution of western New York." I suppose, in ZAMM, Robert Pirsig (the author) was referring to meeting with & learning about yourself?

Perhaps what I crave is meditation, more than chautauqua, but the word isn't nearly as interesting. I think it's time I scheduled a chautauqua (of the ZAMM variety) for myself.

What do I want?

2007-10-06T17:13:00.000-05:00

If posed the question in some drastic hypothetical form, such as "If you knew you only had five years to live, what would you do now?" or "If you just won the lottery and you knew you never had to worry about money again, what would you do?", I invariably answer that I would quit my job. But the rational part of my self argues that these questions do not represent my reality, and I should make my life decisions based on the current facts of my life.

Okay. So here are the facts of my life: I generally spend one to one and a half hours commuting each workday, so that I can sit in front of a computer all day, accomplish far less than I am capable of, and feel guilty that I didn't do more. Why do I sit in front of a computer all day if I am not accomplishing anything? Guilt, I suppose. Getting stuck. Avoiding thinking about the issues that keep me where I ostensibly do not want to be. On the weekends, I steal as much time for myself as possible, and otherwise go with the flow. The boys want to make a fort in the family room? Ok. They want to watch a DVD? Ok. My husband wants to talk? Ok. We need something from the grocery store? Ok (but better if I can go by myself!)

If I quit my job, take the proverbial off-ramp, what would I be doing? Staying home with the boys, probably. At least, that is the default response, since someone needs to watch them. But ... it's not my family that I am thinking about all day while I am trying to (not) work. What do I think about? Whether or not I should keep my job, work part-time, or quit altogether after the baby is born; what books I would read if I had the time; where we should live; connecting with other people.

Connecting. Last night we went to local synagogue, had a nice time meeting people, feeling a part of a community. It makes me think ~~twice~~ for the hundredth time about whether we should leave our current locale. I feel very isolated here, but how can I make connections if we keep moving every year or two? How odd, then, that I sit around and think about connecting with people, reading about other people, lurking, instead of actually calling up a friend or inviting someone to lunch. And if connecting with people is what I really want, how is quitting work going to help?

And how does blogging help me connect with my 5-yr-old, who obviously wants my attention right now?

My Work World

2007-09-29T17:54:00.000-05:00

I work at a highly respected institution in my field. People are valued here. I am well-compensated and have oodles of training opportunities. I am good at what I do. My boss likes me. My co-workers value my opinion. My schedule is somewhat flexible, and I hope soon to start telecommuting two days a week. Oh, there are the usual headaches and bureaucracy, but, if polled, I'd bet most of the people here would say they love their work.

I'm not one of them.

It's not that I don't find my work interesting, sometimes, or that I don't feel appreciated. It's not that there isn't enough work, since the department keeps adding people and there is still too much to do. In fact, practitioners of my subfield, let's just call it analysis, are in demand across the country. But, while I always like the ego-boost of accomplishing things, and particularly of doling out advice based on analysis and experience, I'm easily distracted from my work.

You see, there's my email, and my gmail, including my groups. There's Mamasource, and Mojomom (and all the wonderful things I've learned about from her). Then there's the news (mostly cnn), and Sperling's BestPlaces, which provides details for my fantasies about all the places I'd rather live than where we are. Throw in a little office conversation, returning of voice mails (which smells of work, but is really another avoidance technique), and requisite trips downstairs to the women's room, and you might wonder how I get any work done at all. (Now, of course, I can add blogging to my list of distractions.)

I've always been a procrastinator (last time I sent holiday cards was in 2004, I think), so it's possible that setting aggressive deadlines on a regular basis could help me focus a bit more. In fact, I think I'll try that, if I remember on Monday. But the truth of the matter is, well, I'm bored. I'm reminded of my high school years, in which I read novels during class, at least for a while, until my teachers explained that I was setting a bad example for the other students. At work, the end products are beneficial to science, our understanding of the planet, and ultimately for humankind. But ... what I do so often feels like drudgery.

So what would I rather be doing?

(With nods to I, Robot)
That is the right question.

Hello world

2007-09-27T13:28:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking for some time about setting up a blog, in which to ruminate about my current life choices. There are so many possibilities, so many paths to choose from, and it seems I change my mind on a daily basis. Perhaps blogging will help me clarify what is really important, and which direction to take. Or, at least, I may find the company of others wandering through the woods.