My 14 year old is a busy girl. She's been wanting to get a job. She applied at Publix in December but they were hiring closers. She tried to get a babysitting gig with no success. I don't understand why she is so gung-ho about it. I don't think she needs to work. She's young and has a full plate already but I support her 100%.
She was invited to participate in All-County Orchestra and last month she had a rehearsal on the other side of the county. It was a crazy day and we were pressed for time, so we stopped at Chikfila for dinner. We ordered our food and then sat down to eat and chat. After a few minutes, she just got up and walked off. I thought she went to the bathroom. She came back with an application. "You're applying for a job?" I asked. She shrugged, "Yeah, I just got this feeling like I'm supposed to work here. At THIS Chikfila."
"It would be the perfect job for you since you already know the entire menu," I told her. Seriously, she is obsessed with Chikfila. She does study group at Chikfila, she hangs out with her youth group friends at Chikfila, anytime she wants a treat - she wants to go to Chikfila.
I didn't want her to get her hopes up because she is only 14, plus she'd have to tell them about her crazy band schedule. But, you never know. She handed in the application and off we went.
A few days later, she got an email for a group interview. She was so excited. Then they called her back for a one-on-one interview, and then another one-on-one interview. It was an intense 2 weeks because the waiting inbetween was excruciating. It was like Survivor - will she make it or be voted off the island?
Then they called her and offered her the job and she was OVER THE MOON! I was super happy for her. The next day she came to me and asked if I could help her fill out her new-hire paperwork. She whipped out her social security card. "Where did you get that?" I asked. "I know where we keep all that kind of stuff." Who knew? I'm impressed. I'm not sure my husband knows where that stuff is.
We sat together and filled out the tax forms. It's a weird thing to do with your child. "Well, it's official - you are a tax paying citizen."
She went to orientation and then had her first shift. She looked so cute in her uniform behind the counter. My baby is a big girl, with a big girl job.
She got her first pay check last week. It was $56. She was so happy. She wanted to get a gel manicure with her first check, so she did that. It was her splurge. Later in the week, she asked if we could stop at McDonald's in the morning for coffee. "Why McDonalds? Don't you love Starbucks?" I asked. "Well, McDonald's is only like a dollar and I'm not trying to spend all my money," she said. Interesting how that works. If I was paying, she would have asked for Starbucks.
I'm really proud of her. She is a get-up-and-go kind of kid. I really don't have to be on her very much at all. She is very responsible, very organized. She has her Cozi App and calendar on her phone and she has a calendar on her wall next to her bed. She likes to SEE things right in front of her.
She has her shit together more than some adults I know. That is not to say that she isn't a typical teenager. She is. She procrastinates which drives me INSANE. She pushes me a bit. We got into it the other week because she wanted to sleep over her friend's house on a school night. Ummmm.....NO. In general though, she is a good kid. Very responsible, AB student, nice person. I love her but I also really LIKE her. I enjoy her company.
Now her plate is VERY full, but that's okay. It will be a good experience for her. She is highly capable and she will do great. Admittedly, it is a little bittersweet for me. She is my baby but she is not a little girl anymore, she is a young woman.
I picked her up from work yesterday and she was chatting excitedly inbetween bites of chicken nuggets and my heart was full. This is a beautiful time in our lives.
My youngest daughter will be thirteen in 3 months. And believe me, she acts like it. She is experimenting with makeup and different clothing styles. It's really hard to pinpoint her style. Girls at this age dress pick a style- athletic, preppy, emo, slutty...she doesn't fit into any category. I call her style "edgy lesbian chic." One day she might wear jeans and a sweatshirt, then the next day a pair of Adidas track pants and a tee shirt, then the day after that a pair of leggings and one of her father's button up shirts, then the next day a dress with sunflowers on it. There is no rhyme or reason. I don't have a problem with it at all. I'm entertained by it.
Last week, she came in my room wearing a pair of tight, black and white plaid polyester paints, combat boots, a black blouse and my long black blazer. I was sitting at my computer and she asked, "Hey, can I wear black lipstick?"
First of all, where did you even get black lipstick? Second of all, no. I let my kids wear mascara and a little lip gloss in 6th grade and makeup in 7th grade but they have to wear natural makeup to school. No crazy blue eye shadow, no dark lipstick. I just think there is a time and place. If you want to wear black lipstick to a party or the mall to be shocking- have fun. School is not the place for you to be walking around looking like Ziggy Stardust or Marilyn Manson.
So I said to her, "No. Not to school."
"But, mom....." she protested.
"You know you can't wear black lipstick to school. That's why you asked me in the first place."
"You don't understand!" she said.
I had to laugh. I was the girl in seventh grade who would show up at school, change in the bathroom and put on black lipstick. I had the anarchy symbol written in white-out all over my book bag. Because I thought I was so bad ass. I know it was in the last millennium but the more things change the more they stay the same.
She stomped off and my husband took her to school as usual. I went about my day. In the afternoon, I drove to pick her up. As I rounded the corner, I spotted her waiting in her usual spot. Her lips were black as night. She is bold as hell. Seventh grade me would have AT THE VERY LEAST wiped off the black lipstick before school pick up. Not her. It was a power move. I was pissed.
As she is walking to the car, the assistant principal (who I know) looks at her and then looks at me like, "What the hell is going on?" and I'm just looking at her like,
She gets in the car and I am just reaming her out. "I told you that you couldn't wear black lipstick to school!"
Do you want to know what this child said to me? She said, "It's not black, it's just really dark plum."
I was heated. I really had to take some deep breaths and ask God for strength in that moment. I had been here before.
When I got home, I was in the kitchen making dinner and my oldest wandered in for a banana and a glass of gingerale. "You wanna know what your sister did today?" I relayed the black lipstick story to her. She smiled to herself and sighed. "She learned from the best. Do you remember the time-"
"Yes, I remember," I interjected.
When SHE was in the 7th grade, she went to the mall with a group of friends. There was 6 of them, boys and girls. She convinced this dumb ass boy to buy her this DARK red lipstick from Sephora. It was like $32. She came home and I straight up told her she could not wear it to school.
Well, sometime that week I had to go to the school randomly to do something. I am walking down the hall and who rounds the corner, but my child who was wearing that damn dark red lipstick. Her face when she saw me was priceless. She was like:
I said, "What do you think you're doing?"
"I was actually going to the bathroom to wipe off this lipstick," she said. DAMN RIGHT.
I followed her into the bathroom and I whispered threats in her ear. That child really put me through the damn ringer in seventh grade. She pierced her own ears with 8 million holes, she changed clothes when she got to school, she was in a whole struggle. I required so much therapy. I need a tee-shirt that says "I survived 7th grade....AGAIN." We can laugh about it now but it was the worst.
So, here I am again. My youngest has about 7 weeks of seventh grade left. They tell you not to wish the time away but I don't give one shit. Seventh grade is the worst, I am ready for it to be gone. So is she.
Seventh grade is a transitional year. The kids change and that is hard. Socially it's hard. She rants to me all the time. She'll say things like, "I don't know why girls act like that. Maybe that's how you get guys but I'm not trying to get guys, so I don't understand it." She generally is low drama but is surrounded by a lot of drama and she hates it. My favorite words of wisdom from her lately is, "I don't care how you live your life, just don't be an asshole all the time." I can agree with that.
She has a lot of friends that are boys. But the boys are....well, teenage boys now (most of them) and they say things that bother her sometimes. She hates the way that they talk about girls and she hates the way girls talk about each other. She basically thinks being a girl is unfair.
She hates school. She's smart, straight A student but doesn't enjoy it. She dislikes adults who are disingenuous and that talk down to her. She went on a whole rant the other day about teachers and administrators who are passive aggressive. She said, "And then she said to me. 'Wow, there's a lot of holes in those pants...' If it's against dress code, then just tell me it's against dress code. If it's not, then don't say anything at all. What am I supposed to say to that?" She's going through her rage-against- authority-stage of life, but it's funny because she is a rule follower so her rants are AMAZING. She's smart and she's cynical and she is trying to make sense of the world around her and figure out who SHE is. I think she's going to be just fine.
She's really into Heathers right now. The 80's movie - and the musical. I didn't even know there was a musical. "What made you get into Heathers?" I asked, I thought it was a random thing. "You and dad said it was a good movie so I watched it," she said. So, at least I know she trusts our judgement about some things. That's kind of frightening.
The kids are so busy but I've noticed the past few months that in the evening, when I'm exhausted and laying in bed- they will come in and join us in our room. We talk and we laugh and we "spill the tea" as the children would say. We get so few family dinners now a days that it's nice for us to all have that time together.
I'm rambling, none of this makes sense. I feel like my brain is going into a million different directions lately. Anyway, seventh grade is almost over. Then I can count all the years left on one hand. I don't think about that though. I keep those thoughts in a box with all the other unpleasant things that I don't like to think about or deal with.
I got married and had children young. Some may argue too young, but it is what it is. All of my friends are in their 40s and 50s. I have a sprinkling of friends in their late 30s. Most of my peers have babies, toddlers and very young children. I love to see their pictures and their musings on social media. I also see posts about how hard it is. Lack of sleep, the baby weight, how sometimes it generally sucks. The other day I was in the grocery store. I noticed this young couple with a toddler and a baby. They decided that grocery shopping would be a fun family outing for some reason. The toddler decided that he wanted to be in the dairy section, not the frozen section. The baby fussed as babies do. The mom was in athleisure wear and her hair in a messy ponytail.
She was annoyed at the dad who was there but not exactly taking charge of the situation. By the time they got to the checkout line, they were both irritated with each other and they definitely were not having a good time. I said a prayer for them on my way home. Having young children can take a major toll on a marriage. It is so incredibly difficult. I have so been there.
I often talk about how we don't tell the truth about the reality of motherhood and how difficult it is. I joke that I LOVE my kids but I hate being a mom. I'm not a fan of the WORK part of it. I stayed home with my children until my oldest was 4. We had very little help, we did not live around family for the first 3 years. My oldest was born on a Monday, we were discharged from the hospital on Wednesday and my husband went back to work on Thursday. I was 20 years old. My youngest was born at home on a Saturday and my husband went back to work on Monday.
When women become mothers, everything changes for us. Our bodies are stretched and unrecognizable to ourselves. By default, we are the primary care givers for our children. Whether we like it or not, our biology has designed it to be this way. We give up friends (or sometimes they give us up), careers, hobbies and often, romance. Not because we want to but because giving care to young children requires nearly 100 percent of your time and energy.
But the world for men doesn't seem to be affected very much. They carry on with their life like business as usual, or so it seems. There is a sense of unfairness about the whole thing. When you are a stay at home mother of young children - that is your job. Keeping the house and tending to the children. Your husband's job is getting up and going to work everyday and bringing home the bacon. Seems fair, right?
I remember waking up with my youngest at 4 am to breastfeed her for what felt like the 6th time that night, looking over at the clock and thinking about how tired I was and how my 2 year old would be up in less than 3 hours and how busy the day would be. I gazed over at my husband who was sleeping peacefully. He would get up and go to work. He'd drink coffee with his co-workers, he'd sit at his desk and do his work for 8 hours. Then, he would come home to dinner cooked by me and get to relax.
I hated him in that moment. My husband, the father of my children. I resented him. It wasn't just that though. He didn't help enough. I always had to nag him to help me clean up, the house could be a wreck, the children would be fussing and still he seemed unbothered by it all. Couldn't he see that I was struggling? He'd rile up the kids right before bed which used to make me so angry, he'd stop for food with co-workers after work when I needed a break and some relief. He'd try to touch me and I'd shy away because I was touched out.
He would come home from work and complain about how tired he was. How tired HE was. Ha! Was he up half the night, EVERY night with the baby? Was he planning outings with a 2 year old? Did he have to take a shit everyday with a baby on his lap while reading a book to the toddler? No. How dare he complain to ME?!?!?! It became this weird contest of who worked harder, who was more tired, who was the more attentive parent. When really, it was just that being a parent of young children is HARD. For everyone. We were making it harder by not working together.
Because MY life had changed so drastically and because I bore most of the responsibility for the children and the house, I had left my husband behind. So here I was at 22 with this baby and toddler and I could feel my marriage coming apart at the seams. I had a wake-up call and I decided that I was tired of bitching. I was tired of being angry and trying to change him. I decided that if he wasn't going to change, I was going to change MYSELF.
I stopped bitching at him. If he didn't want to help me, then that was on him. Not on me. I decided I was not going to be angry anymore. I spent more time and energy bitching at him than it took to me to just do the thing I was nagging him to do. I was in the kitchen one evening, cooking dinner. The baby was on my back, my oldest was playing with blocks in the living room and my husband was playing a video game. I asked him to take out the trash. "Okay," he said.
Then, he never got up and did it. Typical. So, I just took out the trash myself. I didn't berate him about him. I wasn't angry about it. I bundled the trash up and took it out. He looked up at me as I was leaving the house, "What are you doing? I told you I would take out the trash."
"Well, you never got around to it, so I have time now. No big deal," I said.
When he wanted to wrestle and rile up my 2 year old before bed, I didn't snap at him. I read her 3 books and laid down with her after. "Why'd she take so long to get to bed?" he asked. "She was just a little excited to play with you, it's all good."
When he offered to take the kids for a few hours on a Sunday morning while I slept, I didn't bitch when I got out of bed and saw that the baby was still in pajamas and there were Cheerios all over the floor. "Thanks for letting me sleep," I said.
Then, something happened. Once I stopped being an actual bitch and emasculating my husband every day, he stepped the hell up. When I asked him to take out the trash for me, he just did it. He stopped rough housing with the kids before bed and did when he got home while I cooked dinner. He took the kids more often. He would even offer to hang with them while I went shopping or had a coffee and read magazines. He stopped going out with co-workers after work. I was happier and more rested. When he touched me, I welcomed it. He became the husband and father I had always imagined he would be. We became a team and life was so much easier after that.
That's when I realized that when I became a mother, I left my husband behind. I was so wrapped up in how difficult it was and how much MY life changed that I did not acknowledge how much his life has changed. I became a stranger to him. My focus was entirely on the children and I know he resented that. He missed me, the girl he had fallen in love with. He was working so hard to support our family and the stress of being the sole bread winner was hard for him. When he tried to help with the children, I would correct him and it really made him feel like a bad father. I didn't realize that he riled up the children before bed because he only got to be with them 2 hours a day and it was a special time for him. He missed them, he felt that is was unfair that I had a bond with them that he didn't have. He wasn't trying to make my life harder. He wanted to help me but didn't know HOW.
I decided that I would be a wife first. That doesn't mean that I feel like my husband is more important than my children but it does mean that I make him a priority in my life. Because I do this, he reciprocates. He is an amazing father. As the children have gotten older, it is easier. That is one of the reasons why we only have 2 children. We struggled so much in those early years that we decided that our marriage could not survive any more children.
We pull no punches about this with our children. They know that our marriage comes first. We are insanely involved, we rarely leave them to go out, we are GOOD parents but out marriage is a priority. Sometimes they will come to me about something that their father did that they disagree with-a punishment that is too punitive, an event they want to go to, ect. I am the more laid back parent and he is more strict and so sometimes we can have some differences. "I'll talk to him but if he says "no", the answer is "no"." They protest, "But, MOM!" I remind them, "You will leave me but he will still be here with me when you go off to live your own life. I must be on good terms with him." Usually, I can come up with a comprise that works with all parties. I'm the mediator of the household.
When we see couples with young kids, we laugh and look and each other and think, "How did we even survive it?" It was insanely difficult. Having older kids is hard and stressful but I'll take teenagers over toddlers any day of the week.
Last week, I was in the car with my 14 year old, driving her to school. We were chatting as usual. "I have to tell you something that happened last night that was very disturbing," she said.
My interest was piqued. "What is it?"
"Well," she continued, "I was in your bathroom looking for something and I saw a bottle in your bottom drawer and I thought it was fancy face wash. Well, I picked it up and I saw it was butterscotch flavored heating lotion. I threw it and screamed."
"Sounds like maybe you shouldn't be digging around in my bathroom," I said.
"MOM. That is so gross. Why do you have that?!?!" she said accusatory.
I laughed, "I mean, I feel like you are old enough to know why."
She make a puke sound, "You need to get rid of it. You are a mother."
"I am a WIFE," I reminded her. "Why did you have to tell about it? Why didn't you just shut the drawer and pretend like you never saw it."
"I wanted you to know and to feel bad about it," she said, joking.
"Feel bad about living my best life? Not a chance," I laughed.
"I literally hate you," she said. "You LOVE me," I said.
We listened to music for a moment and I looked at her and said, "You know there are much worse things in life. I kind of think you are lucky that your parents still like each other."
She nodded, "I am." She knows.
If you have young kids, and you are tired, and you feel like life is unfair, and your marriage is circling the toilet - take a step back, re-evaluate and know that this is normal. Transitioning into parenthood is extremely difficult and takes YEARS. Heck, my kids are almost raised and many times I feel like I am still transitioning. It is easier to get through it with a partner than it is an enemy. It's not too late to try again. Hold on to hope that is gets easier. Maybe not today or tomorrow but take a deep breath and tell yourself that "this too shall pass." Because it will.
Just like that, 18 years with my man have gone by. My husband was in Hawaii for it, so there was no celebrating. Just a quick phone call. Which is fine. After 18 years there is little urgency. We'll celebrate when he gets back. Or we won't, whatever. It's all good.
I laugh that we are so interdependent now. We really are melded together. My husband got back from a work trip a few weeks ago and he was crawling into bed that first night home and he said, "I'm finally going to sleep good tonight. I hate sleeping alone." He always complains that he can never sleep well if I'm not next to him. He doesn't like to be awake if I'm not awake. We have this joke in our house about how, if he wakes up before me, he always finds an excuse to wake me up. The kids roast him about it. The Sunday that he came back, he let me sleep. I actually heard him putting on coffee downstairs, but I laid in bed for a few minutes relaxing.
A moment after I stood up out of bed, I heard my husband coming up the stairs. He stood in the doorway and smiled. "You're up," he said. He'd heard me get out of bed. He was waiting. He knows that I like peace and quiet in the morning. Don't talk to me before I have my coffee. I fixed myself oatmeal and coffee and sat on the couch. He sat down next to me. I was sipping my coffee and reading the news, enjoying the peace and quiet. He looked at me for a minute, then down at his phone, then back at me and finally said, "I'm going to need you to chug your coffee, because I really want to talk to you." I laughed so hard. He knows me too well.
He actually wound up getting sick that afternoon. He had a fever of 102 and was laid up in bed. This is the area where I shine. If you are sick- I will take care of you. I whipped up some chicken noodle soup from scratch. I'll give you your meds. I'll put a cold compress on your head and attend to your every need. My girlfriend was coming over for tea and cheesecake that evening. I had to straighten up and cook dinner. I gave him his medicine and some cold orange juice. I went to leave and he said, "Where are you going?"
"Downstairs. I have a lot to do."
He looked up at me with the most pitiful eyes, "Will you lay with me?"
I rolled my eyes so hard.
"Are you serious?" I asked.
He nodded. "Okay, for like, 5 minutes."
I crawled into bed with him and rubbed his back. Poor guy.
I quarantined him upstairs and cleaned my house and was hanging out with my girlfriend and was telling her everything you have just read. At that moment, I heard someone come down the stairs. My husband just stood in the doorway. He just stood there, looking at me in a daze. He didn't say anything. "Yes, dear?" I asked. "I wanted to let you know that I'm feeling better and I'm going to eat some soup now," he said.
"Would you like me to fix it for you?" I asked.
"No. I just was letting you know."
My girlfriend chuckled. "My husband is the same way!" She's been with her husband since she was 14-15 and they have been together longer than we have.
He makes me laugh so hard. A few weeks ago, we were laying in bed and he turned to me and said, "Why don't you put on some music to set the mood?" *Don't worry, you can keep reading, this story is PG*
Me, being the asshole that I am, said, "I have just the thing," I grabbed my phone and played The Oldest Melody in the World.
He looked at me sideways, "What is this?!?!"
"Shhhhhhhhhh. Close your eyes," I said. "Now imagine that it's 1,300 BC. We are in some beautiful villa in Crete. We are on the coast and we look out and see the clear blue ocean. There is a minotaur roaming around outside......"
"Minotaur's are frightening," he interjected.
"Shhhhhhhh," I continued. "You've just gotten home from selling bread at the market. I'm here waiting for you in a white, flowy dress with nothing underneath-"
"Wait, wait, wait," he said. "I was selling bread at the market?"
"Yes."
"I'm the BREAD man? Of all the things you made me be the bread man? Can't I be something cooler?" he said.
I laughed, "Sure. I guess. I mean, I'm just making this up on the fly. You wanna be a blacksmith or something?
"Ok."
"Ok. You come home from your long day as a blacksmith. I'm in a white flowy dress and I've been waiting for you all day. We can hear the waves and the music playing-"
He interrupts again, "Where is the music coming from? It's 1,300 BC."
"I don't know, there's a guy in the corner playing music," I said.
"There's a GUY in the corner WATCHING us and playing music?!?!?!" he said. "I gotta be honest, this is not doing anything for me."
We laughed so hard that we were wiping tears out of the corner of our eyes. We are both weirdos, we are meant to be together.
My husband is a very quiet and private man. In some ways I feel like I have this wonderful secret that no one knows about. It's like I have a treasure chest of gold and only I have the map. He has always fascinated me. He is not like everybody else. When I first met him, he was this punk-ass Puerto Rican boy who played Dungeons and Dragons and listened to electronica. He was eccentric and serious. He refused to chase me. I wanted to peel back his layers and live off of his kisses. I still do.
We have been lucky. We have been mostly happy. I feel truly honored to be his wife. If I could do things over again, I would not change a thing. If you are are reading this, dear - even though you are 4,755 miles away- I love you to the moon and all the way back home. Thank you for making my life beautiful. Happy 18.
It's been a month since I updated this blog. A lot of things can happen in a month. If I knew then what I know now......
We went to Mexico City, which was amazing and wonderful. The people were so kind and welcoming, the food was delicious, the city was beautiful. It was like being in a movie, a dream. I feel like every place we travel to, I leave a piece of my heart and I definitely left a piece of my heart in Mexico City. It was a 10 out of 10 experience. If you get the opportunity to go in your lifetime, you should.
By the end of our trip, my husband and children were ready to go home. Not me. I'm never ready to go home. I love being on vacation. I don't have to cook, or do laundry, or keep a schedule and to-do list in my head. I just get to be with my children. They are with me the whole time, I can see them. I can see that they are happy. I am content.
Despite having an amazing trip and being super careful about what I ate and drank (besides the crickets I had with dinner), I got sick the day we flew home. Seriously bad, like I think I had dysentery.
I didn't eat a meal for TEN days after I got back. I existed on broth, toast, bananas, apple sauce and peppermint tea. My husband was convinced I was dying. "Dude, you need to go to the hospital." I shrugged him off. "Nah, I just need oral re hydration. If my mucus membranes start getting dry, I'll go in and get some IV fluids." He under-estimates my willingness to suffer. After 10 days, things were better. I started to eat again. I was very weak but I survived it. I can laugh about it now. All is well.
Since we returned from our trip, life has been a whirlwind. Every single person in my house is going through "something." Our own separate issues and situations. It has been exceedingly difficult. When the children are having a hard time, I feel uneasy.
Last week was bad. I was still feeling weak from being sick and not eating for so long, PMS was hitting me hard, I'm dealing with some personal things, my husband and I were both stressed and overwhelmed and the girls were not feeling their best and were projecting it on us. I dropped my oldest off at youth group and she was having a bad attitude. It was not like her. She is going through something. She said something that hurt my feelings. I generally don't take it personally but lately, I have been fragile. I stopped at the grocery store on the way home to get eggs and creamer.
I had purchased eggs and creamer the night before but had left them on the counter and when I woke up in the morning they were ruined. I brought the replacements and as I drove home I thought about the children and the things they are struggling with and I thought about some of the things that were burdening me. I felt empty and heavy all at the same time. I pulled into the driveway and popped the trunk and dragged my exhausted body out of the car to retrieve my groceries. It was a beautiful night, unseasonably warm. I looked up at the sky and the stars were twinkling.
I just started talking to God. Outloud. In my driveway. "Listen, If you want to test my faith, I can accept that but if there is any strength inside of me, I need you to help me find it. I need you to help me dig down deep. I need you to show me that I'm strong because I am struggling." My neighbors probably think I am insane. They wouldn't be wrong. In that moment, I needed to say it out loud, to hear my own voice.
When I worked at the hospital, I would come in early in the morning and I would always get sent in to the new mothers who were in crisis. It was always the same situation. Different room, different mother, same situation every time. I would walk in and the mother would be attempting to nurse a screaming newborn who was not cooperating, dad was asleep on that terrible window bench.
I'd smile and introduce myself and ask to look at the baby. I'd take the crying baby and check the diaper and do my assessment and then wrap the baby up and calm him/her. Then I would turn to the mother and ask how things were going and she would tell me the story of how the first day everything was great, and how all of a sudden the baby wanted to do nothing but scream, could not be put down, just wanted to be on her all.night.long. Then the tears would come. "I don't know if I can do this," "I'm so tired," "How am I going to go back to work in 6 weeks?" "What am I doing wrong?"
It was always the same, pick your adventure. Then I would get the baby on the breast and I gave the same speech every time. "Your baby is transitioning into the world and is used to the warmth and comfort of the womb. All he/she knows is you. Your voice, your smell, your heartbeat. You are the safe place. I don't want you to think about 6 weeks from now, or even tomorrow. Let's just get through this feeding and then talk about what we need to do to get through today. Let's make a plan."
That somehow would make things better for them, to remind them that even though things were hard in the moment, they wouldn't be hard forever. Sometimes, when you break things down it's better, it seems more manageable. I give the same speech to my children (at least part of it).
When they are struggling with something, I am their safe place. They come to me and let it all out. They may be in total crisis mode and having a full on teenage/tweenage meltdown about whatever- being overwhelmed at school, friend problems, stress about the future....and they come to me in a panic. I tell them to be calm. "Breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth, and when you are calm, talk to me." And they do. And I listen. Then I reassure and then a plan is made. "So what are you planning to do about this situation?" or "What are you going to do different?" or "What do you need to do to get through today?" or "How can I help?"
Then they tell me what their plan of action is, I offer encouragement and tell them that everything will be okay (which it will be) and then we work on making it through the day.
The other week, my kid and her friends were in the car and we were having a conversation like this and her friend says, "Wow, you are like a wise old owl." NO. I don't want to be a wise old owl.
I want to be a f*cking fabulous peacock After we talk, they always feel better. They might not be 100% but they are calm and have a plan and go on with their day. But then I'm not okay. On the outside, I am calm and I am rational. But on the inside, it hurts me. I take on their emotions. I actually do this with everyone. That's why I'm a shitty family member and friend. I have to be emotionally disconnected from other people because otherwise it takes too much out of me. I can't be there for other people because literally it takes everything I have just to show up and be there for myself and my children. I will not apologize for this ever but it does make me feel guilty sometimes.
When I'm struggling, I try to keep it to myself. Although I'm terrible at hiding it from my husband. He ALWAYS knows. "What's wrong?" he'll ask. "What do you mean? Nothing is wrong," I'll reply. I don't like to burden other people with my problems. Even my husband. Let's face it - my problems are not that big. I have a good life, my kids are beautiful and healthy, I have everything I need. Whenever I talk about my problems, I hate it. Like, someone please get the world's smallest violin and play it. Rationally, I KNOW that.
I can't keep anything from my husband. He can sense it in me. He was so annoyed, "Honestly, I know something is wrong. I've been with you my whole life. Is it something terrible?" I sighed. "No, not really. It's just when the kids are going through something it really upsets me."
"But the kids are ALWAYS going through something," he replied.
"I know," I said softly. "That's my point. It's hard."
My husband was like, "It's not going to get any better. When they are grown up it will probably be worse." Oh, my hubby, he is a realist.
They aren't struggling with anything crazy. It's typical adolescent stuff. They will certainly be okay. I try to tell myself that, "This is normal and necessary, this is normal and necessary, this is normal and necessary....." Like a mantra. I KNOW that it is normal and necessary but that doesn't make it better or easier.
It is not my job to remove obstacles from their way. They are not going to be happy all the time. They are going to make mistakes and learn hard lessons. Some will be self imposed and some will be totally out of their control. There are some roads they will have to walk alone. I can walk next to them but I can not carry them. I will not make things harder than they need to be but I cannot fix their problems. I can only support and love them.
In so many ways, I feel like a new mother again. These years are like the newborn days reflected. The children are transitioning into this world that suddenly is strange, new and confusing. Newborns scream but teenagers cry and have random nervous breakdowns or bouts of bad attitudes and rebellious behavior. I am their safe place but I am completely unsure of myself, convinced that I am doing it all wrong, wondering how long this feeling will last....
A few weeks ago my oldest was not acting like herself. She was in a terrible mood and she told me to leave her alone. So I did. A little while later she asked why I wasn't talking to her. "You told me to leave you alone, so I was giving you some space." She was so upset. "I don't want space. I never want space!" I was confused, "But you told me to leave you alone." She sighed, "But I didn't actually mean that I wanted you to leave me alone. I need you." She teared up and I felt horrible. In case you were wondering what it's like to have a teen/tween daughter, now you know.
I don't have a close relationship with my own parents and I never recall seeking them out for comfort and so this is new territory for me. I feel completely ill-equipped and floundering, to be completely honest. I just do what I've always done in this mom gig, fake it til I make it. I always just wanted my kids to feel safe and secure and know that they are loved and so I try to focus on that and not sweat the small stuff so much.
Yes, we are all going through something right now. But life is like that sometimes. We are learning lessons. That is our job as parents, to raise up the children and teach them how to become independent. We teach them to walk, to use the toilet, to read, to dress themselves...but as the children become bigger the things they must learn are so much more complicated, so much harder to master. Things we are working on right now:
-time management skills
-dealing with difficult people
-accepting the things that we cannot change
-the importance of self care
-how to recover from a broken heart
-how to manage anxiety
-how to accept that people change
-how to be okay when it seems like everything sucks
-how to take responsibility for your actions
-how to recover from disappointments
I'm 35 years old and these are things I am STILL working on myself. I think I need to learn to accept that doing the best that I can is enough. I need to take my own advice and take things one day at a time. The things that we go through are normal and necessary. You can't have rainbows without a little rain.
Last night we attended my husband's company Christmas party -except it was in January so they called it a "Winter Bash." I was grateful. December is always jammed packed, so this was much better. It was a good excuse to dress up and go downtown for a free dinner.
I wound up sitting next to my husband's co-worker and his wife. They have 3 kids: an elementary aged kid, a toddler and a baby. They talked about what life is like - waking up in the middle of the night, sippy cups, changing diapers. We listened as they lamented about how expensive it is. I feel like parents of young children don't look at us like we are "real" parents anymore. We are not in the trenches. I have not wiped my kid's asses since Facebook debuted.
You WANT to tell them that it gets easier. But let's be real....it's all downhill from here. The minute parenting stops being physically exhausting it automatically flips to be emotionally exhausting. Diapers, wipes, and daycare are expensive......but that doesn't get better. Between paying for sports, instruments, cell phone plans, clothing, summer camps. It's rough. Now we really need to plan ahead because we'll have to pay for driving school this summer for my oldest and car insurance for her. There will be ACT/SAT test prep, there will be yearbooks and class rings and proms. The next 3-5 years will be pricey and then we get to help pay for college for the next 6 years after that. We have just surrendered ourselves to it at this point.
When they become fully functioning independent adults we won't even know what to do with ourselves. We're going to think we are Rockefellers.
After we talked about the children, we talked about our houses. This couch that they hate that eats everything. The HVAC unit that was installed wrong when the house was built. Flood insurance. This is adulting. You start having opinions about things like flood insurance and property taxes. You have a favorite burner and a junk drawer with rubber bands, a screwdriver, and some loose batteries. You frown when you notice the layer of dust on your baseboards.
I am a suburban mother. Through and through. I wake up in the morning and make breakfast and pack lunches. I shuttle kids to school. I carpool. I cook nutritious dinners and I bake cookies. I tend to the flowers in the hanging baskets in my porch. I kiss my husband when he gets home from work in the evening. I am completely ordinary.
I don't mind it, really, but I find it amusing. Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I didn't marry my husband.
I would have attended college in North Jersey. I would have been a little wild. I'd move to New York City and be happy there for a while. Overtime, I would grow weary of the cold weather and people that take themselves so seriously. I'd find myself in some small mountain town in North Carolina.
I'd write trash novels with a lot of mystery and a little bit of sex. I'd live in some studio apartment above a hipster coffee bar. The floors would be pine and covered with oriental rugs. The place would be bright and cheery and I'd have shelves and shelves of books. I'd have a small balcony with a worn rocking chair and wind chimes hanging. I'd wear tea dresses and sandals and have long hair that I'd wear in a bread and a tiny, silver nose ring.
I'd have a grey cat named Scarlet who I want to be a lap cat but she just sits on the edge of the couch and just looks at me with resting bitch face. I'll have one good friend. His name is Tom. He is tall, gay and teases me for my fashion choices. I adore him. I'd exist on coffee and antidepressants. I text my family with vague promises to visit them, but I won't. I do send birthday cards to my siblings and nieces and nephews to assuage my guilt.
I take lovers. We drink wine in the evenings and they confess their love for me but I just laugh. We make love with all the lights on but I kick them out of my bed in the morning without even offering them a cup of coffee. I'd be loney but not too upset about it. I'd smile at babies in the grocery store and lament that I'd never have children of my own because I know, deep down that I would not be a good mother.
Some people will read that and think I'm just some rambling, crazy person but others will understand what I'm tying to say.
I am living the life I am supposed to be living, and it is a good life. I am grateful for it but there are little pieces of this free spirit inside of me. Living in suburbia is good for the children. It's a perfect place for families but the banality of it can wear on you sometimes. There is this sort of quiet desperation in the suburbs. Wives with monogramed tote bags and SUVs who are annoyed with their husbands for not helping enough around the house. Husbands with grills, that spend their Sundays watching football, who complain about their wives not giving it up enough. Bless us all.
I try to do things to keep myself entertained. Sometimes I'll just put on a fancy dress and dance in my living room, or say the f-word when I'm not supposed to, or try to convince my husband to park the car in some wooded area and make out with me. When the kids were young - we'd blow bubbles, walk barefoot in the grass, play in the rain, and make so many wonderful messes. It used to drive my husband crazy. He came home once to my kids covered in pudding paint. "They are just leaning and tapping into their creative side," I told him. I want to eat curry in India, and hike to waterfalls and feel the sun on my face. Being alive is so wonderful. I do try to FEEL alive, even if I'm a little weird and ridiculous in the process. I try to balance my free spirit and suburban mom side of myself and most of the time they co-exist just fine.
A few months ago, I was laying in bed with my husband and we were laughing about something. He laid his head on my shoulder and said, "I could never be married to someone logical," he said. I wasn't offended. I understood what he was trying to say. I smiled at him. "Well, thank you."
The gymnastic competition season is officially over for my kid! Yay! I LOVE watching my child compete but it sure can be stressful. She had a good season this year, over all. She got to stand on the podium a lot which made her happy. It has not been easy. It has been a long road.
I like to post my daughter's accomplishments and often friends and family will see pictures of her at awards, with medals around her neck and videos of her competitions. There is so much to the sport that isn't seen and isn't shared.
Gymnastics is not an easy sport. It LOOKS easy but it takes a huge amount of time and commitment. It is getting harder. She just competed her last compulsory level. Basically, in the Junior Olympic program Levels 1-5 are compulsory where ALL the gymnasts perform the same routines at all the events. Levels 6-10 are optionals where each level has certain skills the gymnast needs to master but they perform their own routines. The skills are a lot harder. College gymnasts compete consistently well at Level 10. Gymnasts beyond level 10 are Elite - these are your Olympic gymnasts.
Next year, my daughter will compete Level 7. She has all of her Level 7 skills already except for bars. Bars are her actual kryptonite - she hates them. She is really excited to compete optionals. She gets to pick her own floor music - she's going to do the Game of Thrones theme. I can't wait to watch her.
It's been interesting to watch her do gymnastics the past 5 years. You notice that as the girls go up in levels, there are fewer and fewer gymnasts. The time commitment and the skill level increases with each level - as does the risk of injury. She is in the gym 4 days a week now, for 3-4 hours and this will increase to 5 days a week at the optional level.
The skills are much harder. They do back handsprings on the beam, difficult tumbling passes, they do tucks off the beam, handstands on the bar, giants.
In a lot of ways, gymnastics is as much as a mental sport as a physical sport. The amount of mental toughness it requires and the ability to overcome fear is a HUGE part of the sport. It is scary to master some of these upper level skills - could you imagine flinging yourself backwards on a 6-inch wooden beam? No thank you. Where skills came easily before, they don't come so easily now. My daughter might need to be spotted HUNDREDS of times while learning a skill before she is able to do it on her own.
There are injuries. It's not uncommon for her to come home and ice an ankle or a knee. Many times she'll come home with bleeding, ripped open palms and I help wash them out, clip the skin and apply ointment. Sometimes she's really sore. Sometimes she is discouraged. These are the things that others do not see.
Last month, she was at practice and I got a phone call from her. She seemed totally calm, "Hey mom - I kind of had a bad fall. Can you come pick me up?"
"A bad fall? What happened?" I asked.
" Nothing, I just landed wrong on my head kind of. I'm fine," she reassured me.
Of course, I was freaked out and immediately headed over to the gym. As I was en route, my girlfriend called me and told me about it. She was there and saw it happen. She said it looked really bad and that she came down on her chest hard and then her head and neck. I ran into the gym. Ran. I needed to put my eyes and my hands on my child.
I walked into the gym and immediately exhaled when I saw her tumbling on the floor. She was okay. She half smiled when she saw me and walked over. She hugged me. "Are you okay? What hurts?" I asked. "Just my neck and chest. Really, I'm okay." I told her to go to the locker room and collect her things and her coach came over and we talked about when happened.
She came out of the locker room and we went to the car. On the way home, she cried. My child never cries. She is tough as nails and generally unemotional about things. She spoke about being discouraged about learning a new skill, that she was stressed out and tired. I did a lot of listening.
I told her, "Gymnastics is supposed to be fun. You love gymnastics, once it stops being fun, I don't want you to do it. The pressure you feel is coming from yourself. Not me and dad, not your coaches. You are 12. This is not the Olympics. You have plenty of time. If you push too hard and are stressed out, you will make mistakes and get hurt. Let's take a step back and focus on resting and feeling well."
She took 3 days off to nurse her neck. It was a little sore, so we did lots of ice and ibuprofen, then heat and massage and she felt a lot better. I texted her coaches and told them that she would only be in gym 2 times a week for the next few weeks. That I felt like taking some time was best for her physical and mental health. She has awesome coaches who were completely supportive and agreed. I love her coaches so much. She had a meet that week- but you know what? Oh well. It's not the Olympics, this is level 5 gymnastics. She went to gym twice that week. She rested, she spent time with the family, she re-charged, she iced her ankle that has been giving her trouble and she did awesome at her meet. She needed that. Then, she was back in her regular routine. The child was at the gym on New Years Eve.
I am very big on making sure she maintains some semblance of a normal life. There are not many kids who train 12-15 hours a week, year round. She does miss out on some things because she has gym but I always make sure she gets to participate in other activities and events as much as possible. She wanted to be in student council, so she is late to gym when she has meetings. If she wants to go to a dance, a birthday party, or the football game - I let her miss gym or switch days. If she has an injury or is exhausted, I pick her up early. Gymnastics is a big part of her life but it's not her WHOLE life. If she feels like she is missing out on other things, or if she becomes burned out, or if she tries to "train through" an injury - she will want to quit. I think trying to maintain some sort of balance has been vital.
I am proud of her all the time. I have sat and watched when she was first place on the podium and last place and I am proud. I remind her often that this is not a sprint, it is a marathon. You are going to be first sometimes, you are going to be last sometimes and sometimes you will be inbetween. All of those things are okay. Just do your best. I do not live vicariously through my children. Their accomplishments belong to them, their failures do too. I am here to encourage and support.
People sometimes joke to her that they want to see her in the Olympics and she laughs. She does not have Olympic aspirations. She's a little too old for that already. College is a possibility but I don't know if she will do gymnastics in college. College gymnastics is extremely difficult to get into and it can be BRUTAL. At this point in time, she says that she wants to do gymnastics through high school and then "retire" before college. I would be 100% okay with that. BUT I would hope that she maybe attends a college with a club team so that she still has the option to do gymnastics in a low-stress environment. She could even coach at a local club when she is in college which would be a great job in the evenings or Saturdays. I think she would enjoy that. It will be hard when gymnastics ends because it has been such a huge part of her life.
She has a LOT of time to figure things out and her plans might change and that's okay. I remind her of that all the time: you have options.
People think we are crazy. We have spent a lot of time and money on gymnastics. I drop her off and pick her up 4-5 days a week, we have spent a lot of time traveling and we sit for 3 hours to watch our daughter compete for 5 minutes. Gymnastics is more than a monthly car payment and during competition season, more than a luxury car payment. We sacrifice hugely. I may never see any financial benefit from it (unless she gets a scholarship, IF that is what SHE wants to pursue). I am okay with that because I still think it is money well spent. She loves gymnastics, she has made so many friends and close relationships, she has learned so many important lessons about patience, commitment, perseverance, dedication and friendship. We have so many memories of going to watch her, and the thrill of when her name comes up on the score board with a 9+, and the smile on her face when she is on the podium. Those things are priceless to us.
I am excited for her. I think her future is bright!
