In The Mornings

In the mornings. This is the time of day that I feel so refreshed, so rejuvenated. I am quite certain that I can accomplish anything.

In the calm of my car, during my 45 minute commute to work, this is the time that I contemplate the future. It must be the sweet morning air, or the privilege of watching the sun rise over a land so beautiful that it takes my breath away (yes, Minnesota is good for some things). Maybe it’s the uplifting stories I hear over National Public Radio (you know, once I get past all the stories about war and car bombings and politics). Whatever it is, I get this electrical sense of confidence and excitement, elation and glee for what could be.

My chest feels like a balloon pumped full of possibilities. I’m going to be a writer. And why is it I always told myself I can’t teach? I could totally teach. One of these days, I’m going to move to the country and live in a home filled with sunny, warm colors and beautiful old antiques. Or maybe I’ll move my family to the beach somewhere. Won’t it be incredible to watch my children frolic on the beach every day? Also, I’m going to start a business and rule the world. Whatever happened to that children’s story I started writing? I really need to finish that.

I am so blindsided by my visions for the future, I can’t think past anything else.

Sure, sometimes these things turn into reality. Like, there was that thing that I couldn’t get out of my head about going back to school for a Master’s degree. Not all my morning dreams fade with the day.

But what happens to the other dreams? Where does my elation go?

I think it starts from the minute I exit the cool dawning of a new day and enter my stale cubicle walls. I lament the piles of everyday, ordinary work to be done and that balloon in my chest begins to deflate as if someone were pulling at either end of the opening and it was making that shrieking “no, no please don’t deflate me!” kind of noise.

I move about my day as if on auto-pilot. I forget about my early morning dreams and focus on the now. I take care of my job and sometimes I take care of all of that other, external stuff that needs to be taken care of: the setting of doctor’s appointments, the calling of the insurance agents, the paying of the bills, the…the…the…!

And then I leave my office, and that crisp new morning air is gone, replaced by a thick afternoon fog of frustration and traffic and headaches. And my 45 minute commute that this morning was full of potential and hope is now the most dreaded part of my day as I fight my way through the throngs of others, who may have been just as hopeful as I this morning, and are now equally as deflated.

Then I get home. And that balloon, now almost completely gone, is replaced by something equally as wonderful but wholly different: love. Because now, all that occupies that space where the balloon lived this morning is the desire to be with my children. My sweet, beautiful boys who are so amazing and full of wonder that I can’t take my eyes from them. I kiss their heads and give them more hugs than they can bear. I play trains with them, and dinosaur’s too. I whisper in their ears how very much I love them. I try my best to make up for not being with them all day. I try my best to make sure they know just exactly how much they are loved.

In the quiet of the evening, after the boys have gone to bed and I might actually have time to contemplate and plan my future, take action that might fulfill those dreams; my attention is diverted by the haze of exhaustion. The desire to spend just a minute with my husband. The need to accomplish that bit of homework. I am tired, and the balloon is deflated, and…, and…, and. The day is done.

I finish my work for today. I drag myself into bed and get lost in the chapters of a good book. I drift off to sleep having accomplished absolutely nothing and positively everything.

But I remind myself: Tomorrow is the dawning of a brand new day.

Full

I think it should almost be my mantra that I tend to bite off more than I can chew. For the brief moments in my history when I have the "right amount" of things going on, I tend to feel really shifty and ready for my next big thing. Ready to get married, ready to buy a house, ready to have a baby, ready to change jobs, ready to move states, ready to have another baby. And so on AND SO FORTH.

I don't know why I have always been so restless, but it's just a fact of nature. So it should come as no surprise that in addition to working full time at my Advertising job, and raising my two beautiful boys I've decided to add in the start of graduate school and a big move to a new house within only a week of each other.

There was this article in the local newspaper this morning about this woman who is a Minnesota Vikings cheerleader, and though I didn't manage to read the entire article, the basic gist was something like: feel sorry for this poor, tired, overworked Target executive who somehow manages to also be a cheerleader and a wife. And all I can think is BIG WHOOP lady!

There are times when people ask me how I manage all that I do. My response to that is, I don't really know how I'd manage to not do all that I do. I'm compelled to do them. It makes me happy to be constantly striving for something more, it give me something to reach for. I like that.

I think that what I'm trying to say is that I can sense a change in where I'm heading with this blog. Because if a 30-something cheerleader who also has a job (GASP!) and a Husband (you mean, she manages to be a cheerleader and isn't single?!) is somehow a big feature article, then surly you, my loyal 5 blog readers, will find entertainment in me: the 20-something career woman, wife, mother-of-two, graduate student. Right?

Would you enjoy the latest details about what a nightmare it is to pack for the big move? And on that note, for some godforsaken reason we have kept every single bill we have received in, like, TWO YEARS. Do you know what a chore it was to go through each and every one to be sure that there isn't anything IMPORTANT in that pile? And also, do you know that U-Haul has the gall to charge nearly $400! for a set of boxes and markers needed for a move? No, I didn't pay $400! for boxes and markers, but for the love of all that's holy ARE YOU SERIOUS?

Would it interest you to know just how excited I am to go back to school? No, really. Like so freaking out kind of excited that I actually read the descriptions AND CUSTOMER REVIEWS attached to the textbooks I ordered from Amazon. Yeah, that excited. And I may be changing my tune when I'm up to my eyeballs in school work and can't even catch a glimpse of Grey's Anatomy because there is too much to be done, but, would you be interested to know about that when it happens, too?

Do you care to know that I sometimes lie awake at night wondering what I'm going to do with myself when my kids are grown up? This is because I am a young mom and I'll only be in my early to mid-forties when that happens and above every other thing I have going in my life, raising my kids is 100% number 1, and when that job is gone, then what?

I don't update this blog as often as I should, mostly because I often convince myself I don't have anything interesting to say. But you know what, this blog is as much about preserving this time in my life as it is trying to entertain other people, and in that respect I have A LOT to say. So say away I'm going to do. You know, until I am completely overwhelmed with my job as mother, wife, employee and graduate student.

Identity Crisis

It occurred to me the other day, while I was shampooing my hair, that when my youngest son graduates from high school I will only be 43 years old.

Forty. Three. I started to panic. Forty-three is so young, and my children are my life. What am I going to do with myself when they no longer need me? I’ll have most of my life left to live and the most important thing I will ever do, raising children, will be over!

Then I started to hyperventilate. Have I really let my entire identity become so intertwined with my children that I no longer know who I am? Am I really panicking about something that will happen 17 years from now?

And this is where the motherhood conundrum gets messy. I love my kids so very, very much that I WANT them to be my world. My everything. But I also want to have my own identity. But I feel guilty about having an identity separate from my family. But I know I should have my own identity. But how could I do that, when they are my identity. But…you get the idea.

When I look at Liam, so often my mind pops right back to the very moment he was born. The tiny ball of baby placed on my chest, the collective gasp in the room when he let out his first cry. But here I am, 3 lightening-quick years later, and he’s not even close to that little baby anymore. I love 3-year-old Liam, but I’m STILL wondering whatever happened to my baby?

The other day I stared hard at Quinlan, cruising along the couch with those cubby little legs. He's beginning to say words! Actual english language words! He's feeding himself, seeking independence, rapidly moving toward his first birthday. All I can think is, Wait a minute! Wasn’t he just born, like, last month? I cannot fathom how almost a year has already gone by.

And before I know it, I’ll be 43. Setting up the cake and decorations for my youngest child’s high school graduation, and wondering, now what?

It's important to me that my kids see that I have my own life, my own identity apart from them. I want them to form their own opinions, seek their own passions, have their own unique and glorious identities. But I just can't shake this gut-wretching, heart-dropping feeling that when my job is no longer raising my children, I will no longer know what on earth my job is.

Forty. Three. Oh my god, what will I do?

Mommy Wars

There is this girl. I met her on craigstlist, after hastily deciding not to send my first born to the daycare I'd been planning on for months. She and I had many similarities. We lived in the same town, we got married and had kids at close to the same age, we both had one son. But that's exactly where the similarities ended, because everything else amplified my personal, daily conflict. The one where I chose to work.

I knew, almost instantly, that she would be the perfect person to watch after my newborn three days a week. He would get personal attention there. She was skilled at looking after young children, and she seemed to genuinely care not just for, but about him. I really couldn't ask for more. And he did do very well in her care.

I still consider her to be my friend, but I doubt she realizes just how much knowing her has put my own life's trajectory in question. Of two differences I don't question. She is devoutly religious, while I am anything but. I believe in God, but I'm just not sure what kind of God, and I'm pretty sure I'll never know. That's just fine by me. She is also very conservative, and I am quite liberal. This, too, is just fine by me.

But it's the final difference that I grapple with everyday. She is a stay at home Mom (SAHM). She is there for her kids every single day. No matter what the day holds, rain, shine, happy kids, sad kids, trips to the library, or snuggles on the couch, she is just simply there. Soaking in every detail of their upbringing, not missing a second. To be clear, she is not the bane of my existence. She is more the metaphor for the struggle that so many Moms like me have. The struggle that has inspired a fervor of emotion on both sides of the debate. But, I'm here to tell you that my emotion is as much directed at those who resent my decision to work as it is at those who applaud it.

I've reminded myself a hundred times over, being a working mother is as much for my benefit as it is for my family's. I've told myself that I'm not cut out to be a SAHM. Staying at home during two different layoffs had all but driven me to the brink. I considered my career ambitions to be a strong part of my identity. And I've always firmly believed that I really can "have it all."

But I also backpedal on my convictions, almost daily. How on earth do I manage convince myself that I'm not cut out to stay at home with my kids? I maintain a warm, loving, and mostly even demeanor when my preschooler is begging me not to leave in the morning. Only to climb into my car and let the tears fall freely on the way to work. I study my infant's sleeping face when I lay him in his crib at night, knowing that he'll still be sleeping when I leave in the morning and I won't get to see him until the following evening.

It's gut wrenching, this struggle. The hard facts are that, at the moment, I couldn't afford to stay at home if I wanted to. But, I'm not so sure that I would if I could, and does that make me a ground breaking American woman, or does it make me a bad mother? I'd be proud to raise boys who understand that the woman's place is not necessarily in the home, but I have to constantly convince myself that I'm not doing long term damage in the process.

I realize now that this term 'Mommy Wars' is not so much about two groups of women tongue lashing each other for their personal decisions, most of us are far too civilized for such banter. Rather, it's about a personal war that so many mommy's have. I know I'm not alone when I say that.

Walking around any office, it's easy to see which co-workers have kids at home. They're the ones whispering into the phone to the caregiver, grasping for minute details of the day that would otherwise be lost. They're the ones spending too much time uploading and arranging pictures for their computer screensaver. They're the ones found occasionally gazing into space, yearning to be home. They're the ones with that look of guilt that just can't be cleanly wiped away. And, occasionally, they're the ones sneaking off to their car just to cry a little bit.

I don't need a working mother to tell me I'm doing the right thing, nor do I need a SAHM to tell me I should be home with my kids. Because this war? It's far more nasty when it's fought with yourself.

Boring and Loving It

You could say, I've been a little absent in the blogosphere recently. It's not that I don't love you anymore, I do. But, for lack of any better excuse, I just don't have much to say.

For me, this is the most glorious place I could ever imagine to be. This place without words. Because that means that my life is boring. And lest you think that boring is a bad thing, let me give you a little timeline of the last, oh, nearly five years.

2004

• June: Married my best friend.
• July: Moved.
• December: Finished my Bachelor's degree.

2005

• March: Began my first post-collegiate job.
• July: Discovered the impending arrival of my first born child, Liam. Not more than 3 weeks after the glorious benefits kicked in from starting that first post-collegiate job. Now that's efficiency.
• November: Bought a house. Moved.

2006

• April: Welcomed Liam's arrival.
• July: Left that first post-collegiate job for a better opportunity.
• November: Became the first victim of the housing collapse and lost my "better opportunity."

2007

• January: Found a new job...that's post-collegiate job #3 for those playing along.
• February: Got a new dog, a companion for first born dog Maggie. (We thought she was lonely.)
• March: Made the decision, with my husband, to move closer to his family in Minnesota.
• May: Found post-collegiate job #4 in Minneapolis, and moved. Leaving the house (re: 2005) on the market.
• March-November: Tried unsuccessfully to sell the Colorado house.
• November: Became a landlord.
• December: Finally moved into more permanent residence in Minnesota.
• December: Discovered the impending arrival of my second born child, Quinlan.

2008

• March: Once again, laid off. This time from post-collegiate job #4.
• June: Found post-collegiate (and current!) job #5. Despite being 30 weeks pregnant. Damn, I must be good at interviewing!
• August: Welcomed Quinlan's arrival.

And there, ladies and germs, is where the hullabaloo ends. The last bit of crazy, turn-your-world-upside-down kind of excitement, was Quinlan's birth. Which was nearly six months ago. If you were paying attention, you would notice that we have a new record.

And for once, I feel so content. I've never been so pleased to lead a boring life. One where nothing changes. There is stability and comfort there.

So, I'm sorry to be so disappointing to my loyal blog readers lately. I search and search for interesting things to say. But interesting just doesn't come to me these days. Save for the things my two-year-old does on a daily basis, but that will only get me so far.

Rest assured, the first bit of interesting that comes my way will land here. In the mean time, I'll keep searching and searching.

Bottle It Up

If I had one wish for the new year, it would be the ability to bottle up my kids, just the way they are right now, and hold on to it forever.

I've said this before, with Liam. Each and every stage he has gone through has been amazing. Not better than the last, but awe inspiring in it's own right. But, it slips away so easily. Transitioning to the next stage without warning, silently in the night. I realize more than ever, now that Quin has joined the family, just how easy it is to forget. Not because I want to, but because life demands it.

No amount of pictures, video or even writing will allow me to hold on to them, in this moment, forever. I know that. Their unique little mannerisms, their sly little faces, their touch, their smell, the funny and adorable things they do everyday, it all just fades away into the new chapter.

Don't get me wrong, I love to watch them grow up. And I know that a year from now, I'll have the same sentiments about that stage. The pattern repeats itself. But, I want to be able to remember each stage just the way I experienced it, at that moment. Revel in it, take myself back to that time, that day, that specific instant. There are just too many details, all so important, to put together the whole picture for future reminiscing.

For now, I'll write what I know about this moment. I won't get it all down, only what I can recall at this instant, but it will be something to hold on to. Not everything, but something.

Quinlan

• I love the way you smile at me first thing in the morning. Pumping those chubby legs and arms like you are having the time of your life, because to you, seeing someone smiling back at you when you wake up is the time of your life.
• I love how you smile with your whole body. A wiggle that starts at your head and works its way all the way down to your toes. No one means their smile more than you do.
• I love how you scrunch your legs into your tummy, and then kick them out, back and forth.
• I love your cry. Yes, your cry. The beginning "eh, eh, eh" when you're just revving up. To let someone, anyone know that "Hey, I'm about to cry, better fix it." I love the little screams that come at the end of a wail, the ones that say "I REALLY MEAN THIS, FIX IT!" Even though sometimes it kills me, because I know I can't fix it (we're in the car, I'm working on that bottle, I just don't have it yet, etc. etc) I want to hold on to that sound forever, because it's uniquely yours and I cherish it.
• I love how you talk to yourself. What started out as constant (and I mean constant) grunts when we first brought you home turned into the most adorable coos, and giggles, and squeaks of happiness.
• I love how you smell. There are few things better than the smell of your soft hair just after a bath.
• I love that you've managed to create a bald spot on the back of your head, right above the only place on your head that didn't lose any hair. It's like a small round face with a big beard below.
• I love wondering what color your eyes are going to be. Because at nearly 5 months old, it's still a toss up between green and brown. Currently, you have these adorable green eyes with little specks of brown all over. They change color from moment to moment, and they're just so perfect.
• I love your chubby rolls.
• I love how you snuggle. How you bury your face in my chest when you're sleepy. And how you could sleep that way for hours.
• I love your tiny fingers. The way they wrap around my fingers when you've decided my thumb should be in your mouth!
• I love your little feet. Like your brother, you have small feet, but they are so cute and round with little bitty toes poking off the top.
• I love how you're beginning to be so aware of your surroundings. Grabbing at toys, putting things in your mouth, rolling over, watching your brother with a careful eye, these are all relatively new to you at this stage and it's amazing to watch.

Liam

• I love the new things you come up with to say everyday. Yesterday, you told your Dad (in the middle of a tantrum) that you couldn't give him a hug, because it was "dangerous." I couldn't possibly write down every new, and hilarious thing you say, but I do try.
• I love your stunning blue eyes. I know these won't go away, but I still wonder (almost on a daily basis!) where on earth they came from. They mesmerize me.
• I love watching you explore your world. You are a sponge soaking up every thing you see.
• I love debating whether or not you are going to be left handed! Your Dad and I are nearly certain that you will be. It's hard to ignore that you've eaten with your left hand since 10 months old, and that you currently paint and draw with your left hand, and kick with your left foot. I know it's a very small thing, but I love it.
• I love how are you are trying to get a handle on this numbers thing. You'll pick up two items, and say "Look, I've got all three!" You get so frustrated if you are wrong, and you try so very hard. I know you're going to have it down very soon.
• I love the way you bop your head sometimes when you are talking. Like you're telling yourself you agree with whatever you're telling us.
• I love that you've finally decided you want to cuddle with Mom. We can snuggle in on the couch together and read a book or watch TV. This is a relatively new turn of events, previously you couldn't sit still long enough!
• I love how you will suddenly remember something that happened 6 months ago. It never ceases to amaze me that you can remember that far back!
• I love your little voice. There's just no way to describe it. And as much as I try to capture the funny things you say, it's just not the same without capturing the voice that goes with it.
• I love finding out what you dream about. You, of course, do not yet realize you're dreaming. But sometimes you'll wake up in the night worried about the dog you saw. Just the other night you woke up crying because Quin "went up the chimney" and you wanted to go make sure he was okay. This morning, when I woke you up, you told me that you were just "Swinging with George."
• I love watching you get excited. Sometimes it doesn't take much, but watching your face light up is the best feeling in the world.
• I love how you come bounding down the stairs, after Daddy gives you a bath, and run straight into my arms.
• I love that, finally, when I tell you I love you, you will respond, "I love you too, Mama."

Christmas Eve-2008

State of Fear

I graduated with my Bachelor's degree in December 2004. And in that short amount of time, I've been laid off twice, people. Twice.

So you can't call me crazy for being just a little more than paranoid right now. Nevermind the fact that I couldn't possibly be in a better business, doing advertising for a very large grocery wholesaler. (Because, while anyone can decide not to buy that TV this year, everyone needs food.) There's been no talk of layoffs at my company, in fact, they're still hiring. But still, I find myself in this state of mind numbing, paralyzing fear.

Even the minuit detail that I managed to land this job as the economy was sliding and I was 30-weeks pregnant can't subside my confidence that anytime I get called into my supervisors office it is to hear the words no one ever wants to hear, "Your job is being eliminated." Nor can the knowledge that while I was on maternity leave I got more than one dire message that I needed to return. None of it matters. I can't shake the notion that in this big, big world I'm still just a peon. And as such, I'm easily disposable.

Back in February I interviewed with Best Buy. I didn't get that job, not least because I applied more for the great perks Best Buy offers than for my skills related to the position. This week I hear that Best Buy is offering buyouts to every single corporate employee. That's right, from secretary's to VPs, they will offer an average of 7-1/2 months of pay plus a year of medical and life insurance if you quietly walk away.

Which begs the question. What would you do? Take the buyout and keep your fingers tightly crossed that 7-1/2 months is enough time to find something else? Or, stick your heels in the ground and refuse, knowing that in six months your job could be eliminated anyway and without such a generous offer?

These are uncharted waters. And why do I bring it up? Maybe to help me stay sane. I think/worry/fret/obsess about it on a daily basis, so I want you to join me. But maybe also so that when the day comes that my job disappears too, I can say, See! I told you. I TOLD you!

For now, I think I'll gaze into my future. Melodramatic? Not a doubt about it.