Sunday, July 31, 2016

I Quit

                          
I don't talk about work very often because I have some boundaries. Me, boundaries? I know that's shocking. It doesn't matter anymore because I quit my job. There are many reasons but mostly because I can't do it all.

Here is a typical day of a working mom with school aged kids:

Alarm goes off at 5:45. NO. JUST NO. Hit snooze. You know that you'll regret it later but you are exhausted. Roll out of bed at 6:03. Husband is bleary eyed and right behind you. Go into the kid's rooms and tell them to wake up. Let the dog out and feed the animals. Start the coffee. You hear the shower from your husband but don't hear the kids. Walk over to the stairs and SCREAM up the stair hall for them to get up. Go back to kitchen and make lunches. You hate making lunches. Put pancakes in the microwave. Yes, you buy frozen microwaveable pancakes because that's all you have the energy to do. Once breakfast and lunches are done, it's your turn to get ready for work.

Go upstairs, straighten hair, and get ready. Kids bother you 8 times while you're getting ready. "Mom, where are my shoes?" How the f*ck do I know? I don't wear them. "Mom, you didn't sign my permission slip yesterday. You promised." Shit! "I know, just get it out of your book bag and put it in front of my breakfast plate with a pen." Finish getting ready and join family downstairs. Sign permission slip that was due 2 days ago. Kid A reminds you that she needs $5 for some school event. You go to write a check but you are out of checks. Make a note to reorder.

Kiss hubby and head out with Kid B. He'll take Kid A. Answer work emails at stop lights on the way to school. Drop off Kid B at school. Phone rings. It's your husband, "Dude, Kid A forgot her flute."
Seriously? "Well, I have a morning meeting. She'll have to go without." Husband sighs. "I know it's her fault but they are doing their scales test today or something. I'll just turn around after I drop her off. If I'm late, I'll stay late." DAD OF THE YEAR.

Get to work and work, work, work, work, work. Personal phone pings. School needs volunteers. Can't do it. Email back and let them know you can send in cookies. Back to work. Personal phone pings. Appointment reminder: Kid B has an orthodontist appointment tomorrow. F**K! Tomorrow isn't going to work because you have an important meeting. Call orthodontist office to re-schedule the appointment for the THIRD time. The THIRD damn time. You can tell the receptionist on the other line is judging you. You don't care. You've given up.

Time for lunch. Craving salt. Go to Wendys and order a disgusting amount of food. Sit in your car and eat your burger while listing to 80s tunes on the radio. Eating your feelings was never so satisfying. You remark that you've gained 7 pounds in the past 2 months. You haven't worked out in 3 months. F**k it, stuff another french fry in your face hole. At least you ordered a Diet Coke. Afterwards, you need a nap. You need a f**king lifetime of naps because you are so damn tired.

Back to work, work, work. Leave work to pick up Kid B for gymnastics. First, you have to pack a snack. Drive Kid B to practice. You read work emails at stop lights and complete 2 work calls on the way there because you are beast mode at multitasking.

Go home. Breakfast plates are still on the table. Clear table and load dishwasher. Time to make dinner. You forgot to defrost the chicken. F**k it! Call husband, "Are you on your way home?"
"Not yet. Trying to resolve this server issue. Hopefully it won't be too late."
"Can you pick up Kid A on your way home and grab dinner?"
"Sure, what do you want?"
"Anything that I don't have to cook."

Work phone keeps pinging. NO. Not looking at it. Go upstairs and do a load of laundry while waiting for husband to come home with dinner. Clean litter box and vacuum. Go to bathroom. It looks like a damn bomb exploded in there. There is a ring in the toilet. How? You just cleaned it last week....you think.

Husband walks through the door with Kid A and dinner. Subs and chips. Good enough. You need a vegetable in your life so bad. Kid A chats about her day and you and hubby stare off into space. It's been an exhausting day. Then you hear, "We have a group project to work on tomorrow. I need to bring in poster board and gel pens."
"You need it by tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"You've got to be shitting me."
"That's what they said."

Look at the clock. Kid B needs to be picked up in 45 minutes. Tell Kid A to do her homework. Tell hubby that you have to go to the store and pick up poster board and gel pens and then pick up Kid B. He is exhausted from a long day at work and nods.

Go to craft store and pick up poster board and pens. The cashier is slow as crap. You are 5 minutes late picking up Kid B. She is seething. On the way home she says, "By the way, I had to walk laps today at recess because you didn't sign my agenda." You die a little bit inside and feel terrible. That happened last week too.

You walk through the door and tell Kid B to eat dinner. You go in her book bag and sign her agenda. Send her upstairs to shower and get ready for bed. Clear the table. Step in something sticky. Can't remember last time you mopped. Sweep the floor and silently resent husband who is enjoying a TV program.

Go upstairs to remind kids to brush their teeth. They have been doing this shit their WHOLE LIVES but still need reminding. Kiss them goodnight and vow you'll plan a special day with them soon. Go into bedroom and lay out work clothes for the next day. Take a hot shower. It feels so good. You have a tension headache and your body is aching. Put on sweats and crawl into bed. That glorious bed that you've missed all day. You are exhausted. Bone tired. You close your eyes and feel a tap on your shoulder. Oh My God. "You want to do IT? We just did it like, 2 days ago. NO - It was definitely 2 days ago. We can but I am so tired. I am seriously going to just lay here. Don't be offended, I still love you. Oh, that works for you? Ok."

Then, go to sleep. Wake up at 3 am in a cold sweat. You never put the clothes from the washer into the dryer. Too tired to get out of bed. You'll re-run it with a cup of vinegar in the morning if it smells. Fall back asleep. Just 3 more hours until you get to do it all again.

That is a school day. Friday nights are less hectic. You sit down on the couch to watch a movie at 7 pm with the family but you fall asleep at 8 pm on the couch. Hubby has to nudge you to come upstairs.

At least you have your weekends, right?
                                       
You wake up on Saturday at 6 am. Can't sleep. Feed the animals. Go to make breakfast. There is no food in the house. There is like, 2 eggs, half a bag of stale pretzels and one freeze pop. You have to go to the grocery store but don't have a list put together. Sit down with a cup of coffee to make list but now Kid B is up. She wants breakfast and she wants your attention. You wish she was still asleep and feel like a horrible mother for feeling that way. You put down the list and chat with Kid B.

Load dishes into dishwasher. The house is a damn wreck. Start cleaning up. Wipe down counters, sweep and dust. It's 8:30 am. You have a birthday party at 11. F**K! You forgot to pay the Comcast bill. Run upstairs to the computer and pay it. Hubby is waking up. "Dude, I'm so tired. It's been a rough week." Ha! The party is at 11 am and it was take 1/2 hour to get there and at least 45 minutes to get everyone ready and out the door. Oh! You still need to get a gift. Damnit! Get ready, the kids are grumpy. Run by the store and pick up a gift. Attend birthday party. Eat more pizza and cake than you should. Complain to other parents about how hard this parenting gig is.

Leave party, go back home. So tired. Lay down to take a nap. After half an hour of not being able to settle because your mind is racing you get up and go to the grocery store. The kids are watching Youtube videos and eating Cheetos. Lovely. Go to grocery store and come back an hour and a half later.

You and hubby unload the groceries, which is the worst part of the whole ordeal. You just spent $200 at the grocery store but you cannot possibly cook dinner. "Can we just pick up dinner?" That would be 5 times this week. Hate yourself some more. You have laundry to fold but you just leave it. Fall asleep on the couch before 9. You have Sunday, after all.

Wake up on Sunday and do your daily tasks. Pray for forgiveness for not going to church. Try to catch up on all your chores. Make kids clean their rooms, bathroom, and fold their own laundry. Fold the rest of the laundry, do 5 more loads, try to mop. Feel anxious because tomorrow is Monday and you have to go back to the job you have grown to despise. Take picture of the kids and post on Facebook. You know, because you have to put on the illusion that you're hanging in there....

So, that's it in a nutshell. That's just a run-of-the-mill average week. Throw in vomiting, a sick animal, the oil needing to be changed in the car, a gymnastics competition, an impending holiday and it all goes to hell. I am not the only one. This is what life is like for millions of working moms.

The problem with being a working mom is that you are expected to also be able to do everything that a stay at home mom does with the same amount of hours in the day. It is IMPOSSIBLE. I love my husband and he helps a lot but we BOTH are at risk of serious burnout if we keep up this pace. He works just as hard as I do, if not harder. The thing that working parents need the most is the only thing that money can't buy: TIME.

I have tried to come up with a solution for a while now. I could make my kids stop their activities. That is not an option. They love their activities, it gives them confidence and keeps them out of trouble. Not an option. I can give up all the extra things that I do. Having friends and family over, volunteer work that brings me joy. I don't think so. I told my husband that I wanted to hire someone to work in our home 4 days a week. A nanny-type person to do light housekeeping and shuffle the kids to activities. My husband agreed. Truly, he is in the same position I am. We are both stretched entirely too thin and we cannot do anymore than we already are. This was a GREAT option and I would have done it if I liked my job and felt like it was where I needed to be.

My husband has been telling me to quit my job for months now. I have been miserable. I can never turn it off, I have been exhausted and unhappy. He'd shrug and say, "Just quit. You don't need to do this. I got you. You're my number one stunna." He's a goofball. I entertained the idea but I'm not a quitter. Even though my intuition was telling me it was time and I could feel it in my gut - I resisted.

Then, a few weeks ago, I was home after work. It was after 5 pm and I was still on a work call. After I finally hung up, my 12 year old sat down next to me, laid her head on my shoulder and said, "Mom, you haven't spent any time with us this week." I looked around. My side table had a layer of dust on it. There were burger wrappers on my coffee table, my head was pounding and it hit me like a bolt of lightning. She's right and I don't have to do this anymore.
                                          
When my husband came home, I told him. "I'm quitting." He smiled, "I've been telling you to." He likes to be right.

I took a week off to really think about it and decide. I spent time with my children, I took them to the river, I cleaned my house, I took a nap. I turned off my work phone. Last Friday, my husband came home from work. I cooked a fabulous dinner and we all sat down to eat. Afterwards, I stood at the sink and did the dishes. He came up from behind and put his arms around me. He leaned in and whispered in my ear. "The kids need you here. I need you. You can plant that garden you've always wanted. You can write. I am so proud of you and I want you to be happy." I knew I was doing the right thing in that moment.

I am so fortunate that I have a supportive husband and that I have options. There are a lot of people who fantasize about having the option to just quit their job and still be able to maintain their life. I don't take it lightly and I am very aware of how blessed I am.

I am not trying to make a statement about working moms vs stay at home moms. I'm not trying to disappoint feminists everywhere. I am just trying to maintain my life and my sanity. Christ! I am 32 years old. I have 8 years before my kids launch. My oldest has just 6 years of school left. That's it.

I've worked with the dying and it's been an amazing eye opener. Life is short. So short. My life is not a dress rehearsal. I cannot stay where I am and maintain my family, my marriage and my sanity. Those are the things that are my priority. The future is bright, the universe is full of abundance. I am young and I have options.

I may decide to go back to work in a few months, in a year, in a few years. If I do, we will hire someone to work in our home multiple days a week. I don't care if that sounds pretentious. I cannot do it all and I know it. I may decide to write. I've been wanting to write The Bad Mom Award Chronicles for quite some time and life has gotten in the way. I hope to plant my garden and just enjoy the years I have left with my children. To spend more time with my husband. To be present with him.

So here's to my family, to my next adventure, to having options, to living my best life...



Saturday, July 23, 2016

Back To School Shopping



My kids go back to school in 3 weeks. What the hell? They just got out of school. It's that time again....to go back-to-school shopping. We started this week. It's still as horrible as I remember. The kids want to go with me to pick out their stuff. I'm not even talking about clothes, I'm talking about school supplies. I went with my 12 year old this week while my youngest was at gymnastics. It was the worst. I now understand why some animals eat their young.

She had guidelines in place. "First of all, we are not going to the dollar store. AT ALL."
"But the dollar store always has cute mechanical pencils."
"No, mom. I have standards."
It's really easy to have standards when you don't have a job or have to pay bills.

We went to Target first. They had some good sales and we crossed a lot of the stuff off of our list. I did let her splurge on some patterned binders but I put my foot down on the "whimsical" $7 composition books. Seriously, $7 composition books. Even if I had a million dollars, I would not buy $7 composition books. That's just crazy.

She kept asking for crap that wasn't on the list. I was like:
                               
I know there is going to be a second wave of stuff that they need. I'm sticking to the damn list.

Then there are the clothes. She wears band tee-shirts and black clothes. That's it. Black tee-shirts, black jeans, black tights, black converse sneakers. Basically the opposite of how I would dress her if I dressed her myself. I know she is being an "individual"  but it's super annoying. "Can't you wear something with color? Maybe a skirt? Like, once in a while?"
She rolls her eyes, "Mom, black goes with everything and black sneakers don't get dingy like my white Converse."
I just don't want her to be one of those mopey kids that wears all black.

My kid is basically turning into Jane from Daria.
                       
At least shes not trying to dress like this:
                  
            (I'm not slut shaming, I'm just saying 12 year olds shouldn't dress like skanks)

The icing on the cake is when she told me she was going to use her old book bag. "I'm going to go back to using my old polka-dot book bag."
"Why? I just got you a Vera Bradley book bag in April. Plus, the polka dot book bag is ripped."
"I mended it. I just want to use that one, ok?"

Seriously, I just got her a nice, quilted (BLACK and WHITE - so it goes with her theme) Vera Bradley book bag and she wants to use a half ripped, piece of shit book bag? Keep in mind, this is the girl who told me earlier in the day that she had standards. Why do my kids always want to be hobos?

              cry loki gif
I mean, if she wants to be a hobo - I will let her be one. I'm just not taking responsibility for it.

                     
             Here's my hobo kid, on the first day of school with her old-ass book bag.

Yeah, seventh grade is going to be FUN. I can just tell already.

 I haven't even attempted to go back to school shopping with my 10 year old yet. That shit is definitely going to end in fisticuffs.

                  fighting gif
I've been through 5th grade once and I am know the hell that I'm in for. I am actually still recovering. I have battle scars and ish.

Don't feel bad for me -just pray. Also, I am accepting donations of chocolate and wine. That should help too.




Monday, July 18, 2016

Turning 12



My oldest daughter is turning 12 tomorrow. I cannot believe it. It's seems like another lifetime that she was born but just a moment ago at the same time. Twelve years, 144 months, 626 weeks, 4,284 days.... I remember in the days after she was born being so petrified that I was going to screw up this whole being-a-mom thing. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself not to worry so much. I mean, I've kept her alive for 12 years, so I'm not doing so bad.

Her birthday is on a Tuesday. I made the last minute decision to take off of work. She wants to go to Target to spend her birthday money and will have lunch with my mom. Unfortunately for her, she has responsibilities now and will spend her evening dancing, then at band practice. She asked me to make creme brulee instead of cake for when she gets home that evening. I'll honor that request.

We celebrated on Saturday since her day is so packed on Tuesday. I was too exhausted this year to throw parties so I told the kids I'd give them money instead. I let her invite over 3 friends for pizza and a movie. She invited a "couple" friend and T-man, of course. The neighbors came over to celebrate too.

It was very low-key, which was nice for a change. After pizza and cake, the kids sat down to watch Spaceballs. But not before I gave them the rules. "Kids! Come and stand in here," I yelled from the kitchen. They came in and lined up in front of me. They all looked nervous, which amused me because I am not an intimidating person. These 8th grade boys were like, 5 inches taller then me.

"Okay, we are going to put on a movie but here are the rules:
 - no going upstairs
 - you can sit on the couch together but next to each other, no sitting on laps
 - you can touch each other BELOW the elbow (I held up my arm and pointed to the approved areas)
 - keep your pants on
 - don't get your faces too close to each other
 - I will randomly coming in to check on you, if you have broken any of the rules, I will notify your parents. Got it?"

T-man blushed, my daughter rolled her eyes, the other two shifted uncomfortably. They all nodded, "Yes, ma'am." They scurried off. Once they were gone, the neighbors were laughing at me. "Yeah, just wait...." I said. I do not give a sh*t. I will tell these kids how it is. I was their age once and I wasn't born yesterday. I also am a member of the church of DTK (Don't Trust Kids) and especially DTEGB (Don't Trust Eighth Grade Boys).

In-between Spaceballs we all decided to go chase Pokemon. They older kids walked ahead and we followed them. We must have walked 2 miles. We walked through what used to be a golf course in our neighborhood. It was beautiful. It was twilight and the hanging moss from the live oaks to swayed back and forth in the breeze.

I watched my daughter with her friends, laughing and running up and down the hills. They were oblivious to the adults. When we made our way back around to the house, we stopped at the neighborhood playground. They were thrilled. All the kids were playing on the equipment, sliding down the slides. It was glad that they didn't care about being cool. They they all were still excited to play on the jungle gym, to climb on the big plastic hippo. They might be big kids but they are still kids, after all.

That is the best part about being 12. That you feel like you are grown but a still a child at the same time. That defines who my daughter is right now. She is right in the midst of trying to figure out if she wants to grow up or wants to stay a little girl. She struggles with wanting more independence but needing to be close to us. It's so strange to watch from the outside, the formative years unfolding right before us.

She is smart, beautiful, and talented. She is everything that we could have possibly wanted in a daughter and we are so blessed to have her in our lives. On another note, this is the last year that I won't have any teenagers for NINE years. Nine years of teenage daughters. Please pray for our sanity.

Happy Birthday, my little C-bug!


Monday, July 11, 2016

TEN

                  
What has happened to me the past few weeks? It's been a blur. We picked up the kids from camp, my brother got married, we celebrated the Fourth of July, we worked and cooked and cleaned and everything in-between. Exhale...it's been a "full" two weeks.

I would be remiss if I didn't talk about the most epic thing to happen in my house so far this year. My little one turned ten years old on Saturday. What?!?!?!? How is that even possible? My baby, my youngest has been on this earth for an entire decade.

It's gone by so fast. When she was born, she kind of fell into her place in the family. With our first there was such disruption. There was a huge learning curve as we adjusted to a new life with a baby but the second time around we were straight bosses.
                                      
I remember it being so much easier...until it wasn't. My youngest was always trying to catch up with her sister, so she did everything early. She walked at 11 months, she talked early, she potty trained early. I feel like she has always been a grown up because you could have legitimate conversations with her when she was 2 years old. She's always had an opinion and has NEVER been afraid to express it.

She is what some would describe as a "strong-willed" or a "spirited" child. Especially when she was younger. She taught us so much about love and patience. When I tell you that we struggled, I mean it. She didn't sleep through the night until she was seven, she (at-times) has been explosive and inflexible, this blog chronicles the challenges and struggles we have.

Things are getting easier. As she has gotten older, she is much more flexible. She does a much better job of controlling herself when she is angry or frustrated. She is still a very sensitive soul but has the ability to keep her emotions in check. She is turning into a delightful young lady and I couldn't be more pleased.

While she has challenged us, she has brought us so much joy. She has always been a petite child and she is so adorable, I still want to pick her up and put her in my pocket. I love her big brown eyes and her button nose. I love that she has golden curly hair. I love the way she laughs. She is crazy-smart and so fun to be around. She is sweet and loving. I adore her.

The day before her birthday, I picked her up from her friends house. We were driving home and I asked,
"Are you excited to turn 10 tomorrow?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to grow up."
"Why? What's wrong with growing up?"
"It seems hard. You have to work and like, pay bills and take care of children."
I laughed, "It's not so bad."
"You also need to learn how to understand life."

I thought that was a profound statement for a 10 year old. I was amused that she is concerned that she does not yet understand life. The older I get, the less I feel like I understand life.

We got home and she went upstairs to take a shower. I laid down on the couch. Before long, she came down and laid on top of me. She laid her head on my chest and her damp, sweet-smelling curls rested on the nape of my neck. I remarked how tall she is getting. She lifted her hand up to mine. "Look mom, my hands are the same size of yours now."

I thought about how, 10 years ago from that moment, she was still inside of me. That we didn't even know each other yet. Then, in a mere blink 3,653 days had passed. It truly gave me pause.

I rested my arm on her back and I closed my eyes and breathed in her smell, I felt her chest rising and falling gently with every breath and I held her close to me. I savored every minute that we had together and it was then that I realized that maybe I understand life after all.

Happy Birthday, little one! You are loved!