Thursday, August 30, 2007
I was taking pictures of Kalea, and the Grandma asked me if I developed them, or something. I told her I was just taking some so that I could preserve the memory and allow Daddy to get a peek at her first day too.
We kept chatting and I found out that she was the nanny. Yep, a nanny brought this 3 year old to his first day of preschool.
Juxtapose that with all the moms and some daddies who took the day off to be at the first day of school. The poor little guy - my heart broke for him.
Then this past Tuesday when I went to pick Kalea up - I think I was running 3-4 minutes behind - I stayed and chatted with the teachers and noticed this same blonde boy, listlessly hanging around. One of the teachers asked the one I was speaking to if the parents knew the time preschool got out. By the time I finished chatting it was 15 min or so past when pick up time is.
Is it me or is this just really sad? That was only the 3rd day of preschool. Makes me want to scoop the boy up and take him home with me. As I finally got the girls strapped into their car seats I saw an SUV (BMW or Lexus...they all look the same to me) pull up.
Sometimes - when the bare necessities aren't what we worry about, we need to sit back and evaluate if working to pay for a nanny and things we don't necessarily "need"... to figure out if we're really providing what our kids really need.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Some people would just think I am letting her pour fish crackers into different bowls and, ultimately, the kiddie pool.
They would be wrong.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
I've finally put into words the difference between raising teenage sons and raising teenage daughters. Don't worry. it seems not every teen feels the need to rage against the mother, and even with the worst (for me so far), they eventually grow out of it.
Once hormones set in it can be like this:
When your son gets mad he will pick up the emotional equivalent of a sofa and hurl it at you with all his might. No biggie. It's cumbersome and his aim is bad. You calmly step out of the way as he misses you completely. And he's over it.
When your daughter needs to vent her overwhelming emotions she dips a silver arrow in the most perfect poison prepared for you personally then pulls back her bow and shoots the arrow directly into your mother heart. She hits you dead center every time.
The trick will be to develop an immunity to every poison known to teengirlkind. Then you should be able to walk away from that one, too. I'm still working on it. I'll let you know.
(Is this a little too much information? If my frankness makes anyone uncomfortable let me know. I can keep it to myself.)
Friday, August 17, 2007
I am a good mom today because I didn’t wring my firstborn’s neck.
Today was the second day in a row that he used the space of time between getting him dressed and getting me dressed to wreck havoc. Yesterday, he got into the pantry and climbed the shelves to get the honey. He removed the cap from the honey and ported it to the living room. He then poured the honey all over his trains, the coffee table, the carpet, and my fraying computer cord. He managed to get his hands, face, and bum (I don’t know.) I only had time to wash him and not the table or the trains. He screamed at me because the whole point of covering his trains with honey was so that he could give them a washdown like Sir Topham Hatt. Uh-huh.
My sister and husband graduated today from university. I was taking the kids to my sister’s graduation and had to go back to put on my clothes. Cue the music of doom. I walk into the hallway and notice white footprints. You know, like a freaking ghost on Scooby-Doo. That’s when I noticed the pantry door open and my 25 pound bag of flour tipped over. Gordon the Train was under the flour. Guille was covered in flour and when he ran away from me, his ghost footprints tracked around the kitchen and the living room.
I was so angry I slammed the pantry door, making the pile of flour go WHOOSH into the air and disperse in a mist all over my clean floor. I am happy that I didn’t slam the kid.
He screamed at me because he wanted to wash Gordon down. Instead, Gordon the Train got to stay in the pantry under the flour while I dragged Guille into the bathroom. He was trying to get away from me and succeeded only in powdering me. Do I look like I’m an 18th century chick that needs a good dusting? Let me answer that for you, NO, I don’t. I don’t have any panniers, my Rousseau book is missing, and I lost my snuff box along with my beauty patches five years ago.
It’s like kids can sense anxiety and stress, and then decide to amplify it. My kids are still alive, we watched my sister walk, and now I’m having a Diet Coke. Even if I did DRAG my kid to get cleaned up, I am a good mommy today.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
The topic that we were discussing is the internal struggle that mommies often feel when we express frustration at staying home to a listener who may not be sympathetic to women leaving the workforce. We feel guilty because we know that we have made the right choice for ourselves and our families, but we still don't like it all of the time. The response we often get from listeners is "Just go back to work." "Leave your kid in day care." "They really like being in preschool better than staying at home" "You need to get away from kids and back with adults" And then we feel stupid. Because we don't know what to say to that. So here is what she told me--I hope that you enjoy it!
Staying home to raise your kid IS hard. I know it sounds cliche. But it's such an all encompassing, divine nature building trial. It's hard in that it is an on-going experience which molds and shapes our very nature!!!! We have to LEARN how to enjoy mommyhood with all of it's scrapes and bruises. Some people seem to fall more naturally into that role than others. They make me feel guilty. But it also makes me sad when I see a mom run away to work as an escape. As if she's not cut out for motherhood because it is hard for her. Have they never done anything hard in their life??? What do you do when you want to accomplish something hard? If it were a work project or school assignment, you'd inform yourself, you'd practice. You might fail a bit. You'd seek support from people who have experience or knowledge in the area. The more energy you put towards a trial, the more you will grow and learn and accomplish. It would be hard to complete an assignment and REALLY gain from it if you just did what you knew and then handed the rest over to a "professional" when you'd had enough. There are so many reasons for a mom to work. But working as an "escape" from other trials is so sad. Instead of addressing the real issues for unhappiness... and finding potential happiness and fulfillment...women look for a quick fix that can impede growth.
I'm realizing that this might not be coming across the way I'd intended. If you feel any guilt from reading any part of this I have not expressed myself very well. Forgive me.
REASON to work is the issue here. Don't thinks me a working-mom hater. Prayer and personal revelation can help us find the path that will be best for our family.
The path of refinement and development of our divine traits does not lie on either the working mom road, or the stay at home mom road. It lies in doing your best to fulfill your calling as a wife and mother. That's it!!! We just keep plugging away. As a daughter of God you are not asked to be perfect. What a relief to not have to try and figure out what choices are the "perfect" ones!!!!!! That's my advice to you. Stop trying to be perfect. Trying to be a "perfect" mom will overwhelm you. At least that's what it does to me. I don't even see myself as trying to be "perfect" when I am struggling as a mom. But when I think about it....that is what brings me down. In my head I'm not living up to some whack perfect ideal. It snowballs from there.
This is one of the reasons that I started Good Mommy/Bad Mommy-to start some discussions between women who are smarter than me.