2012: Lessons Learned

Overall 2012 was a pretty great year for my family, but it definitely had it’s ups and downs and I have definitely faced some new challenges.  But it is because of those challenges that I have learned some really valuable life lessons that I will take in to 2013 (and hopefully well beyond).  I think that they are worth sharing, so here goes…

I am not a parent, I am a co-parent

So this might seem pretty obvious to some of you but it really was not obvious to me!  I am a bit of a control freak and have some trouble sharing the workload for fear that it won’t get done “right” (assuming my way is even the right way); however, this doesn’t stop me from being a bitter-betty about the fact that I am working solo and totally overwhelmed.  This unfortunate vice has followed me straight in to parenthood.  On top of that, I also had this warped idea that moms are supposed to bear the brunt of the workload when it came to their kids.  I thought that to not do it all (every appointment, every event or function, every play date, all while working and having your own life), I wasn’t being a good mom.  I just felt this responsibility for them that I hadn’t been able to share with Steve.  For example, I have taken both girls to every single doctor’s appointment, well and sick, since they were born.  I have never let Steve take them alone.  Regardless of our schedules, I have rearranged because the idea of letting him take them without me gave me anxiety. Meanwhile, I am always thinking to myself, “Wouldn’t it be so great if there was someone else willing to help me with that??”.  HELLO, there is!  

I’m not sure if it was the realization that we have another baby arriving very soon or the fact that we had a pretty challenging period with the girls that made me realize how much I need Steve, but whatever it was I am incredibly thankful that I recognized it now.  Steve is ready, willing, and able to meet me halfway in raising our little monkeys and that alone makes me an incredibly lucky and grateful woman.

I shouldn’t question my gut…even when other people don’t approve of my decisions

I have a lot of decisions to make on an everyday basis.  Some easy, some hard.  What projects need to get done at work first?  What methods should we use to potty train?  To discipline?  Should we buy a bigger house or renovate the one we are in?  I usually have a pretty strong “gut reaction” and know what the “right” decision is for me and for my family but to others I appear extremely indecisive.  This is because I have always let other peoples’ opinions of both me and the decisions that I make factor in to how I ultimately decide to act.  It’s probably most obvious when it comes to decisions on how I raise my kids (as you have read in previous blogs) but it is universal in all areas of my life.  For example, I might have plans to go out to lunch with a friend that I know gets extremely upset when people cancel.  The day of the luncheon arrives and I end up having a sick two-year old, four unexpected conference calls, and serious back pains from a very active baby.  I know that the right thing to do is to cancel the luncheon, but I go (and pay the price the rest of the day) because I know that my friend would be mad at me if I didn’t.  This example might seem trivial, but I make almost every decision this way!  And it’s pretty ridiculous! 

It is finally dawning on me that I have to start going with my gut and not worrying about anything or anyone else.  I have a pretty hectic and unpredictable life at the moment and I just have to do the best that I can.  People’s feelings may get hurt and people may not like how I do things, but as long as my intentions are always good I can live with that.

Picture-perfect families may not actually be the picture of perfection

I let my girls dress themselves most of the time (yes, even on holidays and for special events).  Now and again, I can organize a coordinated outfit but usually we walk out the door with some combination of stripes, animal prints and polka dots; at least one of them is wearing BOTH a skirt and pants; and we almost always have leggings with socks pulled up to the knees.  Let’s put it this way, if they were raised in the 80’s I would probably be commended for their sense of style.  On top of that, they are not “posers” and attempted photo shoots usually end up with a frazzled mom and dad and a lot of blurry and unusable pictures.  So I don’t often get the perfect family photo.  This year, I couldn’t even find one picture for our Christmas card.  As the cards came in it was making me feel really guilty to see all of these pictures of families, all with little kids, in coordinated outfits huddled together at a cookout or in front of the Christmas tree, all smiling and looking straight at the camera.  I felt like I was doing something wrong and was determined to do better this Christmas…I did not.  For Christmas dinner, Mia wore a pink ruffle shirt, a different colored pink skirt (which Mia justified as matching because they were both pink), a pair of black leggings, striped socks (multi-colored but no pink in sight) pulled up to the knee, and yellow shoes.  Oh, and she asked to do her own hair (which ended up being several clips placed randomly through her hair).  Steve and I thought about forcing her to put the adorable Christmas outfit my mom had bought her, but when we saw the pride on her face we didn’t have the hearts.  Sophia is another animal altogether.  She just likes to be in something comfortable and pink.  So, unless you are willing to listen to a lot of screaming (and I MEAN SCREAMING), comfy pink clothes are the way to go.  So, instead of having two perfectly coiffed little girls, we walked out the door with one kid in leggings and a t-shirt (pink, of course) and one kid looking like she stepped straight out of Jem’s last concert.

At the end of the day is the ability to take a good family photo really a measure of what makes a good family?  I am learning it is not.  I love my family.  I love that my girls have such a crazy sense of style and that they wear EVERY single article of clothing that they own (sometimes all at once).  I do sometimes wish we could capture more moments in FB-worthy photos, but that will probably come with time (with three girls I am guessing that there will be lots of photo ops in our future).  Until then, I don’t really care what people think about my little fashionistas.  You never know, someday those same people may be wearing clothing with the girls' names on the label.

We can learn so much from our kids

I was laying with Mia the other night and was starting to fall asleep (she has the MOST comfortable bed in the world) as she chatted away telling me all about her day and her friend go-go (yes, he is imaginary and no, I have no idea where he came from).  I knew if I laid there any longer I would be out for the night, so I told her that I had to go in to my own bed.  When she asked me why I told her that she needed to learn to sleep on her own.  Her reply?  "Mom, I will learn to sleep to alone when you and daddy learn to sleep alone!".  Touche, Ms. Mia, touche!  Her comment made me smile but it also made me appreciate how simply she views things.  In a world of over-complications and over-analyzing, I could definitely benefit from learning how to look at things in black and white.  Sometimes things are just plain and simple and I am glad that I have Mia and Sophia to remind me of that:)

We all have “meatball problems”

This is by far the easiest and most basic lesson of 2012: Anyone who is married or dating, has kids or pets, owns a home or rents, works or has worked…HAS PROBLEMS.  No one has a perfect life.  For those of you who live under a rock, the term “meatball problems” comes from a show on MTV.  It is just a funny way to describe the crazy problems shared by similar people.  And in talking to those friends that have lives paralleling mine, it’s true.  Our problems are usually pretty consistent.  We all fight with our husbands about the equality of the house work, we all wish we had more money so we didn’t have to worry about how it was spent, we all wonder if we are doing the right things with our kids and let others opinions bother us more than they should… the difference is that some people handle it better than others.  Some people have a natural affinity to focus on the positive.  To appreciate the “ups” when things are going well and to sit tight and not freak out about the “downs” knowing that they will pass in time.  At the end of the day, no one’s life is better it’s just different.  And A LOT of that difference comes from attitude rather than circumstance. 

So, in 2013 I hope to remember the things that I have learned in 2012 and apply them.  It will be a really hectic year with a new baby and (hopefully) a new house and if I don’t take some of my own advice I might just go a little crazyJ  But we will just have to wait and see how it all plays out.  I do know one thing…if in 2013 Steve and I start talking about the prospect of having another baby, please just send us straight to the nut house!!

Until next time…in 2013. 

What do you do when there is nothing that you can do?

In the past month life at the Kearney house has gotten a little…chaotic.  Ok, more than a little chaotic.  It is actually 100% pure chaos.  I have never felt quite so out of control.  Even though the girls are really close in age (about 16½ months) and I should expect such craziness, Steve and I have always had some sort of system and some element of control.  It also helps that Mia and Sophia have always been pretty “easy” kids (I use quotations because I recognize that no kids are easy, so I use the term relatively).  We never had major challenges with naptime or bedtime.  We never had any major health issues and didn’t deal with more than the average illnesses.  And, despite the fact that both of my kids have very strong personalities and wills, they never seemed to all fall apart at the same time.  Life was always manageable.  The kids’ personalities and life stages just seemed to work out so that if we were struggling with one, the other was relatively easy.  Well, that has all changed!  We are potty-training a 3 year-old that has major poop issues and probably has to be taken off of dairy (the absolute staple in her somewhat limited diet) at the same time we are dealing with a very clingy almost 2 year old that has learned how to crawl out of her crib.  Both kids have been sick for about a month and, as a result, naps, sleep, and mealtime have become completely disorganized in the ways that you would expect.  And, now, Steve and I are struggling to keep those same illnesses at bay.  Oh yes, did I mention that I am almost 5 months pregnant and have become SUPER patient on top of it allJ??  I am just feeling like I am at my wits end.  We have had our bad day, or even days, here and there, but this feels like an eternity.  Steve and I are both exhausted, sick, frustrated and out of sorts!

So, here I am writing this blog at 10:15 pm after spending about an hour and a half trying to get my poor Mia (who is the sickest of all of us) to sleep.  I am just hoping that she and Soph make it through the night so I can get a decent night sleep.  I don’t think we have had an undisturbed night in weeks!  One is getting molars and dealing with some night terrors and the other can barely breathe at night.  Poor babies!  And, poor mama!!  But, what can you do to make the situation better when there is really nothing in your control that can be done?  I can't dictate how my kids will act or feel, but I certainly have to deal with the fall out!  If the girls get up, I get up.  If they don’t get to sleep by their bedtime, I don’t get to work or sleep or do whatever it is I need to do sans kids.  If they are cranky in the morning and don’t want to get dressed, I do what I need to do to get them calmed down and dressed and out the door.  If they have a meltdown in a restaurant, I get up from the meal and walk around and keep them entertained.  I just do what needs to gets done in the moment and hope that relief will come for both the kids and for me. 

I know, deep down…like really, really deep down at this point…that this stage too shall pass.  I know that in a few weeks we will be back on track and my life, although chaotic, will feel a little more normal again.  I know that I will be more ready for a newborn by the time #3 arrives.  I know I will sleep again someday and will even wish that my children would sleep less.  I know that there will be a time when they don’t want or need me and I will look back and appreciate the clinginess (well, kind ofJ).  But even though I know those things, they feel very far away.  I imagine a lot of moms go through these stages and wonder how they let things get so off track.  I also imagine that, like me, other moms do what they can do to just move forward through these phases.  There is no answer or resolution.  Just keep your head down, put one foot in front of the other, and march on.  Eventually you pick your head up and look around to see a much brighter day…one where you have a nanny, a personal chef, and lots of money and where you lose weight regardless of what you eat.  Ok, ok.  Maybe just one where you get to sleep through the night and take a shower and pee all by yourself, but a brighter day nonetheless!  So, I plan to K.I.M (keep it moving) and hope that the light is near and the tunnel is short.  

Until next time…

In hindsight...

It is so easy, especially for me, to get overwhelmed by life.  I am not good at seeing the positives in every nook and cranny.  And Steve…forget about it.  Next to him, I look like freaking Positive Polly.  So let’s just say he is not the one pointing out that my glass is half-full!  It is because of this that I think that we often forget how lucky we are and get grumpy when times get tough (e.g., when we're trying to get out the door to go to work and facing a meltdown because our 1.5 year old just wants to be naked).   We both work really hard and that alone seems to really wear on us.  Outside of work time we have a very chaotic life with 2 toddlers and one on the way and we haven’t totally figured out how to make it all work.  Most days we are living on pure adrenaline, whether from stress or excess caffeine, and just getting through.  I am not saying that I am not loving my life, because in hindsight I am…each day I look back at the day before and think about how great the day was.  The problem is that I am having a hard time appreciating some of those moments while in the moment.  

A perfect example …Mia has poop issue (TMI, I know, but a crucial part of the story).  We give her miralax on a daily basis to “help her along”.  Well, this week we ran out, and she paid the price yesterday.  She tried to poop (unsuccessfully) from 4 in the afternoon to 3 in the morning.  This made for a very long day and even longer night (note to other moms, I NEVER anticipated that being a mom included “birthing” poops…one of the many surprises).  Steve and I were both tired and grouchy and worried.  It is pretty horrible to see one of your babies crying in pain and not being able to do a thing about it…damn you poop!  I was pretty miserable in those moments and just wanting the poop to arrive so we could all go to SLEEP.  And, eventually it did and we did, tired and weary. When Steve and I woke up this morning, thankfully a little later than usual, we laughed about the ridiculousness of what had happened the night before and we were glad that Mia was doing ok.  The memory of the night was actually funny, despite the fact that getting through it was kind of hell.  I feel like this is how I operate quite a bit these days, with delayed joy.  Not sure if this is normal for parents or if I should be forcing myself to cherish those moments as they come.  Is the positive memory enough or do I need to make the experience itself a positive one?

I always feel guilt the next day when I am laughing about a situation that I couldn't find humor in, in the moment.  I certainly could avoid a lot of negative feelings of frustration and angst.  If I could only move myself in to that "next day" frame of mind I could manage those moments so much better.  But, so far I haven't figured out how to do that...these bits of wisdom always seem to escape me when I am up at 2 in the morning encouraging a toddler to "just get it out".  For now, I am just trying to get through the yucky moments, I'm glad that I get to go through them, and appreciative that I can laugh about them the next morning…and for the rest of my lifeJ  It's all of these stories that will be told and retold as my kids grow up.  Let's be real, people aren't recalling to their kids the story about the great and uneventful day when nothing happened and everyone cooperated.  There's no story in that (so sorry to all of you parents with perfect kids).  At least Steve and I will have lots to tell them about.  So, I don't have the answers or the resolution but I do know one thing, never will I ever again forget to buy poor Mia miralax!

Ah, good luck!

That was the lovely sendoff that Steve and I received recently leaving a breakfast place.  It was quite a horrible restaurant experience, actually…probably our worst yet.  And, it was embarrassing, frustrating, exhausting, annoying, did I mention exhausting??  It all started with a feisty little one-year-old who flat out refused to sit at the booth.  I thought that walking around with her would keep her occupied until the food came.  Instead it just led to a cranky little two-year-old who insisted on walking around the restaurant with us.  So, off we went, parading in circles around the restaurant.  Mommy, 2-year old, 1-year old, repeat.  The host actually both greeted us and told us to have a great day 2-3 times before he realized that we were the same 3 walking in circles.  Upon realizing this he asked me if something is wrong (what I wanted to say:  Um, yeah…my kids are totally driving me crazy, care to watch them while I eat peacefully with my husband, what I actually said:  No, just taking a stroll…[insert forced smile]). After a few laps, we attempted to sit down and wait for the food (which I was sure would come soon).  Mia was very happy coloring, but Soph on the other hand, spent the next ten minutes devising ways to crawl over me and escape.  Each failed attempt resulting in some frustrated tears.  When the food finally came, both kids wanted to sit on my lap and eat it.  This would have been fine had they been willing to share my lap.  They weren’t.  Being sisters, they attempted to push and pinch the other off of my lap (who the hell taught them how to pinch, by the way, remind me to find that kid and teach his or her kids a thing or two someday).  This was accompanied by the squeals and fussing you would expect.  At one point the waitress actually came over and brought us the check.  She said, “I’m not in a rush, but I thought that you might be.”  What the….  After that we got the heck out of there.  But, this wasn’t incident free either.  I picked up Soph and started to walk to the car (Mia ALWAYS walks by herself).  Mia had an all-out meltdown because she wanted me to carry her.  UGH.  I would have done anything for a baseball cap and a dark pair of glasses…and maybe a nanny.

Having a 1 and 2-year old I guess you have to expect that sometimes a trip to a restaurant will go wrong.  But, my kids are usually well-behaved when we go out, to eat or otherwise.  It’s one of the things that I  think about when I get frustrated and the one thing that Steve and I are worried would change if we had another.  Being able to take them to restaurants (or stores, museums, the library, really anywhere public…) allows us to keep some piece of our old life even though our new life has changed dramatically.  We don’t feel trapped in our house, it allows us to eat out (something we both love to do), it gives us the opportunity to do all sorts of cool stuff with the girls and create awesome memories…it just makes a hectic life a little more manageable.  So, I panicked a little after the debacle of breakfast.

As the rest of the day went on, the girls’ attitudes were totally different and I ended up having a great day with them (including an amazing run on the beach).   So, I still have hope that this restaurant thing was a fluke (please, please, please).  The truth is, even though we might love our kids to pieces, as parents we still want to get out of the house and live life.  For Steve and I that means eating out every now and then (even if it is during the early bird hour).  We want to accommodate our children, but sometimes we need them to accommodate us.  So, Steve and I plan to keep attempting to go to restaurants but we are lowering our expectations as to what might happen once we get there.  We’ll have some hits, we’ll have some misses, we’ll probably be escorted out of a restaurant or two, but we need to keep going to feel like we are still living our own, old lives.  So, if you see the Kearney family out at a restaurant and dad looks like he is about to lose his mind, mom is frantically trying to keep two kids balanced on her lap, and the two kids are pinching each other repetitively…just send us a cocktail, NOT a dirty look.

Until next time...

Who are "THEY"???? The Italian mom's counsel of wisdom.

I have had the pleasure of being raised by a full-blooded Italian mom.  I am not sure if all of you are aware of this, but Italian moms have this secret committee of experts that know EVERYTHING.  No, it’s true!  The members of this committee are top secret and their names can never be revealed.  So the members are just collectively referred to as “they”.  “They” know about everything!  Relationships, kids, finances. “They” are doctors, lawyers, accountants, psychiatrists, plumbers, electricians…you name it, “they” know everything about it.  Despite the fact that I am an accountant and Steve is a lawyer, “they” know A LOT more about accounting and law than we do.  “They” are just so damn smart.  Steve and I joke all the time about this secret committee and how we have been hearing about them for most of our lives (my mother-in-law is Italian too!).  We would love to meet them and for them to impart their wisdom on us!  I always thought that when I became a mom, someone from the committee would contact me (maybe I would be put on some magical email distribution list ?).  But, so far, nothing.  This has lead me to really start to wonder, if “they” don’t tell me what to do...how will I ever know??

Seriously, though, so many of the decisions that I (we, let’s be honest people) make are based on what we hear or read is correct.  We make most of our decisions based what we believe "they" think is right instead of using our own gut instincts.  I can’t tell you how many times I have questioned some approach that I have taken with one of my girls because there is some literature (e.g., website, article, blog, or just the “word on the street”) that says that my decision, no matter how trivial, is detrimental to the well-being of my child.  For example (and I’m just going to put it out there), for a while we let Mia fall asleep in our bed and moved her in to her own bed once she was asleep.  “They” do not approve of this practice, although the reasons range.  I have heard/read that, among other things, “they” believe that this hinders their ability to fall asleep on their own and creates a dependency on our bed that will be difficult to address later.  The strange thing is that, other than what “they” have to say about it, it really doesn’t bother me (or Steve) at all.  Not to mention that it helps her to feel more secure, gets her to sleep faster, and doesn’t in anyway hinder our sleep since we move her well before we go to bed.  Another example, we let Sophia use a pacifier and she is one and a half.  “They” think that this is a horrible habit.  It might ruin her teeth, she won’t learn how to calm herself down without it, and it will delay her speech. But, again, other than what “they” have to say about it, it doesn’t bother me.  I think she is comforted by it, I know she will talk when she’s ready, and I am not worried that she will be going to her prom with it.  But, in both cases, even though my gut is telling me that my decisions are fine, I am still worried about what “they” have to say.

I am still a fairly new mom and never had much experience with kids before my own were born.  So it is fair to say that I really have no idea what I am doing most of the time.   It doesn’t take much to make me question my decisions in that area.  One article, one google search, one news story…two Italian mothers (love you both!!)…all of the conflicting advice is enough to make your head spin.  So, how do I sort through it all?  How do I decide what information is accurate and what is just nonsense?  How do I find out what it is that “they” already seem know?  Truth is, I don’t!   I will have to wing it.  I will have to follow my gut and do what I think it is right, despite what the committee has to say about it. I think at the end of the day, what I feel is right is far more right than what any book, website, or committee tells me is right.  I have to trust that.  Now, as long as I have my mom I will always hear what “they” have to say (not always by choice;) but I can’t let that advice prevent me from doing what I think it right!  You know what “they” say…Trust your instincts!

The worst??? Or, the worst of the best???

Last weekend I ran my first race in a long time.  It was only a 5K.  I have been running.  I was feeling good about it.  And, then…I sucked.  I ran slow.  I stopped to walk.  I was struggling to breathe.  I was not very motivated.  I just sucked.  And I was really, really bummed about it.  I used to be able to run much farther, much faster.  My ultimate disappointment came, of course, when I checked the results and I came in somewhere in the 500’s out of 900 people (some of whom walked).  Ugh.  If I felt bad about my performance before then, I definitely felt badly about it when I saw the results.  I “ran” about an 11 and a half minute mile!!??!!  SUCKED.  The whole time that I was looking at the results my eyes just kept moving up to the top of the race results at the runners who completed the entire race just minutes after I completed my first mile.  Ugh!

Of course, in typical Danielle-fashion, I told everyone how horrible I did in the race.  Most of the people that I talked to had similar responses, “good job”, “impressive”, “You finished!”, “I haven’t run in years, good for you”.  Huh?  I’m like, um did you hear me?  I said I ran a single mile in ELEVEN AND A HALF MINUTES.  Not the race…just the first mile and then each one after that.  Of course I do have some extremely athletic friends who run marathons and triathalons and their responses were ones of encouragement…at least you finished…it was just a bad race…blah, blah, blah.  But they can’t fool me.  They are the totally those running geeks that start the race in the 6-minute mile groupJ  But that’s not the point of this blog!  So, let’s refocus…The point is that I am a competitive person, by nature, and I can be tough on myself.  And both of those things are (mostly) positive traits.  However, I tend to lose perspective and feel like the worst at something.  But am I really the worst or just the worst of the best??  (Quite possibly a major overstatement, but trying to make my point hereJ

I have this same issue at work.  I work with lots and lots of smarty-pants people.  It is pretty easy to forget that they are smarter than the average bear and really easy to feel like a dummy.  I know I am not.  But, again, I tend to lose perspective.  Let’s be real.  No matter how much I train, I will never be running alongside Uta Pippig (3-time Boston marathon winner).  And, I will probably never be the CEO of my company (although I tend to tell people that I will after a cocktail or two…).  But who cares.  I am running (albeit slowly) and I am working at a great company.  And, I am proud about both of those things.  And if being the worst of the best means being outrun by a little old man in a pair of short-shorts who used to run marathons in his golden days…well, dammit, I am ok with that too.  But still totally not ok with an old man wearing short shorts...

Until next time...

It's not me. It's you.

I’m funny.  Really, I am.  I love to laugh and I love to try and make other people laugh.  I think it is a coping mechanism and how I manage to get through everything from the typical day-to-day stress to the more serious situations.  I think laughter is extremely powerful (if you have heard my loud and unique laugh - you also know that my laughter IS extremely powerful).  Just one little joke, even though it may seem trivial or dumb, just one reason to laugh out loud and make something that felt so serious seem so silly, can change your whole outlook. It is so important that we do our best to make light of things and not to get bogged down in life...ESPECIALLY MOM LIFE.  Because, let’s be honest, there is nothing more crazy than the day-to-day life of a mom.  If you can't laugh at it, you might cry.

But, this blog is not about why laughter is important.  I shouldn’t need to convince anyone of that.  It's about people's reactions to my attempts to be funny.  I try to make light of situations at home, at work, with my friends.  And, I think a lot of people recognize what I am doing, just trying to make my day (and maybe theirs) a little more entertaining.  But, recently, after being told to "tone down my laugh" I became really self-conscious.  Of course, when this happened, I felt really stupid.  Being someone that is really concerned about what other people think of me, I am constantly worried.  So I worried about looking dumb and I started to filter what I did and said and held back on the jokes, especially at work.  But that is so boring and so, SO not me!  So after a while of trying to "tone down my laugh" I came to the conclusion that the real problem is not me, it is them.   Let me just repeat that...IT IS NOT ME, IT IS THEM.  Some people are very serious and they can’t appreciate my humor.  Sorry not sorry, I like having fun and I love to laugh, loudly. And I think that is a really, really good thing.  I might not be everybody's cup of tea (we all can't have senses of humor, I understand), but who cares??

The point of this blog is just to remind people, especially women since we tend to internalize everything, that when people have a problem with who you are or what you are about it is exactly that .. their problem.  It doesn't mean that there is anything wrong with you.  (Disclaimer: If you are serial killer or something equivalent then there probably is something wrong with you and this blog really doesn't apply, but for everyone else...) It just means that they don't get it, they don't get you.  Oh well.  Their loss!!  No one is perfect.  There is no perfect woman, mother, or career person.  We all have our "things" that drive other people crazy.  My laugh might be a perfect example.  But the people that matter, they see those other things.  The bigger and better things that make us special.  They take the good with the bad.  They may even appreciate the "bad".  So don't try to change who you are or be something different just to impress. 

This is so, so important for moms. With moms, there is this added layer of trying to be the "perfect" mom and we need validation that we are doing it right.  Well, let me tell you, my true self is NOT a perfect mom.  I love my kids, but I struggle with typical mom things.  I'm sure that some people judge me for missing things when I travel for work or for my style of parenting (which is probably a lack of a style, if I'm honest).  And I definitely worry about that.  But the truth is I can only be the woman and mom that I'm made to be, not one that everyone will like.  Some people will agree with how I do things (and like my laugh) and some people won't.  It's hard to be ok with that but you just have to be or you will burn yourself out!  Just be you and stick to it. If you need a little more convincing, just know that I am ok with whatever you do (again, unless you're a serial killer - I am NOT ok with serial killers).

Hopefully after you read this blog you will have a little more confidence to be who you are, in general and as a mom.  If you are bothered because someone doesn’t appreciate you for who you are (or, like in my case, doesn’t find you funny), just remind yourself it’s not your problem it’s theirs.  And, in keeping with the spirit of this, let other women be their self without judging them (SO IMPORTANT).  So you keep being you and I'll keep telling my jokes and laughing obnoxiously.

Until next time…

Drinking on a school night...

It’s been a while since I blogged.  And, to be honest, it’s because I have been in a funk.  Down in the dumps.  Not feeling so hot.  Under the weather.  Whatever way you put it, I have not been in a good place.  Don’t get me wrong, I really love my life.  I feel totally blessed to have such an awesome family, such great friends (old and new), my health, my (itsy-bitsy) house, and my job.  I am pretty damn lucky.  But now and again I just get in to a rut and I need some time to regroup and get out.  It doesn’t help that this time Steve seems to be in a rut too (and two ruts don’t make a right…don’t hold the horrible joke against me, I’m struggling here!).  My rut usually consists of a general lack of motivation, feeling really tired, and just being kind of moody (I can just hear my husband’s voice making a wise-ass comment about how this sounds like me EVERY day…haha).  I stop wanting to run, it makes focusing to work nearly impossible, and I choose to spend any downtime that I do have planted on my couch watching really, really stupid tv (let’s be honest, though, even on my best days I am certainly not watching cnn) instead of being a productive member of society.  And, since I have been feeling this way for a couple of weeks, I have been slacking on my blog.  But, I realized today that my blog might be just what I need to snap out of this!  So, tonight I have poured myself a big glass of malbec with the intention of pouring my thoughts and feelings out on paper… 

So, I am getting older and drinking during the week is not the norm for me.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my margaritas and my mojitos…on a Friday.  And, I couldn’t enjoy my date night dinner without my red wine…on a Saturday.  But, Sunday through Thursday I usually stick to water, milk, and an occasional soda (WOOHOO).  I just can’t hang like I used to.  So I was hesitant to consider drinking a glass of wine tonight.  But as I sit here writing, drink in hand, I have to admit it feels good.  I feel a little bit of freedom.  As a mom, wife, and career woman I think I lose that sometimes.  I get so caught up in working, kids, keeping the house clean (which is usually an epic fail anyway), keeping the kids clean (not usually an epic fail, but not necessarily a success either), and all of that other boring stuff called life that ranges from doing taxes to grocery shopping, I don’t usually get to do a whole lot for myself…like sip a glass of wine while relaxing on the couch.  Tonight just the small act of pouring myself a glass, before I even took a sip, has already made me feel a little bit better.

As I get older, it becomes easier and easier to live my life for other people, to care for other people (i.e., my munchkins), and to get overwhelmed by my to-do’s.  But, at the end of the day, it is really the little things that make me happy and keep me sane.  A glass of wine, a run outside in the spring, a pedicure, reading a book…all of these things make me so happy.  But, they seem to be the things that I can’t find time for and the first things that I let slip when I get in to one of my funks.  Ironic.  But all it takes is one of these things, a reminder of what I love about life (outside of my family), and I seem to get back on track. 

So, thank you.  Thank you for reading my blog and giving me an excuse to write.  And thank you for giving me a reason to pour a glass of red on a school night.  Hopefully reading this will motivate you to grab yourself a glass of red (or whatever your guilty pleasure may be), sit down on your couch and drink it.  Just for you…as if it were a Saturday.

Until next time…

It's all relative...

Last week Steve and I had a meeting with our financial planner.  We had already rescheduled twice due to the stomach bug (first our family and then his), so we were pretty committed to following through with this meeting.  The meeting was scheduled for 5 and Steve’s dad (aka, papa) was coming over to entertain the girls until the meeting ended.  The hope was that we would could get through the meeting with minimal interruptions from the girls.  The reality was that I knew that this was a disaster in the making for several reasons.  The meeting was right smack in the middle of dinner time and the girls would be cranky, our house is tiny and there was no way that we were going to meet with the financial planner without being interrupted, and I wasn’t sure how the whole diaper situation was going to play itself out (since that is not papa’s specialty).   So, if we could get through the meeting without any meltdowns, injuries, or pee on the floor, I would be happy. 

So, just as I expected the house was in a complete state of chaos for the entire meeting.  The girls were running around us and playing very loudly, making it very hard to discuss anything (never mind our financial matters).  And, to top it off, at one point during the meeting Mia actually called me in her room because she had taken off her diaper which she had pooped in and needed my help to get her cleaned up (amazingly this did not result in the pee or poop on her floor).  It was nuts!  I literally had one ear listening in on the meeting and the other listening in on the girls.   Up and down.  Up and down.  Grab a bottle, talk about 529 options.  Change a diaper, discuss our budget worksheet.  Change the girls in to pjs, talk about converting our monthly overage in to some type of savings plan.  Get teeth brushed, talk about Roth IRAs.  My head was spinning.  But, I got through it and got the girls in bed...and I did it all without any meltdowns, injuries, or pee on the floor as I had hoped.  Success!!  (For me, anyway.  However, I am sure that my financial planner left wanting to fire us and never, ever wanting another baby.)

Everything, including what people consider success, is relative.  What another parent might look at as a completely chaotic situation, I looked at as a great success.  I recognized what was out of my control and didn’t have any expectations about those things.  The reality of my situation is that I have two really little kids.  I can’t predict their behavior and I certainly can’t control their moods.  Sometimes things go smoothly and sometimes they don’t go at all.  I just never know.  So, I have learned the only way for me to enjoy life is to have absolutely no expectations about how it will work out.  Setting expectations about things you have absolutely no control over (i.e., two very strong-willed toddlers) is a waste of my time and a guarantee that I will end up disappointed.   So I have made a habit of just letting things plays themselves out rather than assuming that they will go perfectly and being disappointed when they don't.  This seems to help me take all of the missteps in stride.

I have heard other people say that if you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans...I say if you want to make God laugh, tell Him about the time your two year old handed you poop (sans diaper).

Until next time…

Black sock, blue sock, at least there were two socks...

I always throw a pair of ankle socks under my knee-high boots (you will forever picture this now when you see me wearing my boots).  It usually doesn't matter if the socks match since they are obviously hidden.  However, the other day I wore my boots to someone's house and had to take them off when I walked in the door.  I had worn two different socks...one black and one blue (light blue so I couldn't even get away with it by using the "I thought that the navy was black" defense).  Before I had kids I would have been mortified by this.  However, this time I didn't even realize that I had done it until my friend commented on it.  And even then I just thought to myself, "Well, at least I wore two socks"!

Since I have had kids I pay much less attention to the details.  I have to!  There just isn’t enough time in a day and something has to give.  As a result, I don’t even notice things like if my socks match, if the girls’ socks match, if they are wearing socks...  You get the drift.  In fact, I consider it a successful morning if no one walks out of the house naked (and I am even pretty flexible on that point provided it is warm outside).  Being a parent has forced me to take the thousand-story view.  I am notorious for sweating the small stuff and worrying about every little detail.  So, the fact that something (i.e., lack of time and energy) has forced me to take a step back and stop focusing on the minutiae of life is only a good thing...right!?!   

Prior to having the girls, there were a lot of things that I KNEW I was going to do as a parent.  My friends who were already parents tried to warn me that I could not predict what was to come.  They were sure that once the baby arrived my views would change.  I was sure that they were crazy and that I was obviously more dedicated to this parenting thing than they were.  Well, guess who is eating her words now?  Yep, that’s me.  I somehow went from the pre-baby mom who made an appointment at the police station to get my car seat installed to the post-baby mom that is pretty sure that I installed the seats correctly (hey, at least I have them in their seats…there are some days that I don’t feel like listening to them fight over who gets which seat and I am tempted to throw them in the way back).  I went from the pre-baby mom who sterilized everything to the post-baby mom who is usually picking Soph’s pacifier up off of the ground at the grocery store and applying the five second rule (that is the rule where you take any amount of time that the pacifier was on the floor and assume that it is five seconds short of the time when germs and other bacteria would have adhered to it).    I went from the pre-baby mom who swore I would never let my kids look like ragamuffins to the post-baby mom let’s her two-year old dress herself and actually loves it when she struts in to the kitchen wearing a princess costume, a GAP sweatshirt, a bunch of plastic necklaces, and a Little Mermaid pocketbook. 

When I think back to the person that I was pre-baby (or pre-babies) I realize now that I had no idea what it meant to be a parent.  Even as I write this post I have to smile at my warped expectations.  I wanted everything to be perfect and clean and everyone to be behaved and happy.  That is so not life!  But what I have learned is that there is so little that really matters when it comes to raising kids.  I believe that my job as a parent is to give my kids the tools that they need to feel good about themselves and to find happiness in their own lives.  And nowhere in that description does it say that my job as a parent is to make sure that every little detail is perfect.  So when I start to get worked up about stupid things there are a few questions that I ask myself so I can refocus.  Are the healthy?  Amazing!  Are they happy (and I mean long-term kind of happy...if they are not happy because you said no that doesn't count)?  Even more amazing!   Do they make my life better and more fulfilling?  If you didn't immediately say no to that question, you're good.   Do they sometimes escape after daddy has given them a tub and pee in a random place in the house?  Ugh…ok, that isn’t one of my standard questions that actually just happened.  Oh well, such is my life!  

Until next time…

The woman has lost her mind...

For those of you who don't my mom, Susan, she is a real trip!  She says what she means and she means what she says.  On top of that, she doesn't really care where she is or who she's with when she says it.  I used to be embarrassed by this but I am actually learning to appreciate and envy it.  I mean, she NEVER comes from a bad place and her intentions are always good.  She just can't help it...when she thinks it, she must say it.  For example, my mom and I were at Dunkin Donuts recently and we bumped in to a neighbor of hers who had her 5 year-old daughter with her.  We were talking with them about the dancing school and that the little girl was going to dancing that day (very pg conversation).  My mom turns to me and says, “Remember when so and so got her period at dancing and Miss. Maria talked to the class about periods?  That’s what a dance teacher should be.”  It had apparently slipped her mind that 1. we were talking to a neighbor, not an old friend, and period talk was probably not the most appropriate convo and 2. WE WERE TALKING TO A 5-YEAR OLD and (again) period talk was probably not the most appropriate convo.  I just rolled my eyes, ignored her, and tried to keep going with the conversation.  So, what did my mom do?  She repeated herself, LOUDER THIS TIME.  Because she assumed that I hadn’t heard.  Oy!  

For most people the phrase “she has lost her mind” is an insult.  For my mom it is truth… at least partially.  In March, 2009 my mother had surgery to remove the hippocampus on the right side of her brain.  This part of her brain was severely damaged and caused seizures that required her to be on extremely powerful medications with horrible side effects, made her unable to drive or work, and caused additional (and unfortunately irreparable) brain damage.  The damage to the hippocampus has made her a little…um, unpredictable.  My mom has became notorious for her lack of “filter” (although sometimes I am not so sure that she ever really had a filter).   For people who don’t know my mom’s history, she could definitely be taken the wrong way.  Strangers just can’t appreciate her “tell it like (she thinks) it is” attitude.  Even today I sometimes think “Oh my Lord, that did not just come out of her mouth”.  Although I still have “oy” moments, for the most part I have actually learned to love this about my mom.  She can be very entertaining and you NEVER have to guess what she is thinking.  Her honesty is refreshing (even if it is sometimes inappropriate).  Sometimes, I wish that I could be as much of a straight-shooter as she is.  It’s not that I am not honest with people, because I think I am. However, I do find myself watching what I say because I don’t want to argue, hurt feelings, or offend.  Wouldn’t it be great if we could all just say exactly what’s on our mind...and have an excuse for doing it? 

It has been three years since my mom’s surgery and I am so proud of how far she has come.  Although she still can’t drive or work, she is incredibly independent and leads a very full life.  On top of that she has recently lost over 50 pounds and is now wearing MY pre-pregnancy clothes.  She is “hot stuff” in so many senses of the word.  For those of you who do know my mom, you know that to say she is quirky doesn’t even begin to explain it, but she could not possibly be any more entertaining.  And, thankfully, she is still filter-less.  So in honor of my mom on her three-year anniversary of being brainless (ha, ha), I wanted to write this blog to remind everyone that it is ok to have a little Susan syndrome every now and again, as long as your intentions are good.  Just say what's on your mind...but don't talk about periods with a 5-year old.  Unless you have brain damage too, that is just not ok.

Until next time...

Red, red wine-o

So, I have come a very long way from my Poland Spring vodka and Crystal Light packet drinking days.  Those days turned in to red solo cup keg days, which turned in to beer from an actual bottle days, which turned in to margarita and other expensive drinks days, and are currently red wine days.  Red wine has become my recent passion and I am really starting to enjoy it.  Besides liking the taste of it, I just like the feeling of holding that glass of wine.  For some reason, I associate wine drinking with sophistication and class and I feel very “grown up” when I am drinking it (so given the amount I have been enjoying lately, I am clearly a model of sophistication and class).   I am always striving to look and feel a little more put together and that glass of red just seems to do it!  

A couple of weeks ago Steve and I were out at a nice restaurant enjoying our date night when I happened to see a girl about my age drinking a “sophisticated” glass of wine.  When we first sat down I thought to myself, “That woman is a class act” (yes, my inner dialogue does include phrases like “class act”).  I just saw her trendy outfit, her blown-out hair, her Prada bag, and her big glass of red wine and assumed that she was more sophisticated and mature than I was.  But, as the night went on (and the wine kept flowing) I noticed that she started to get a little cock-eyed.  The next thing I knew she had bright, purple lips and stained red teeth and was clearly slurring her words (loudly!).   By the time she left her outfit looked more disheveled than trendy, her hair was askew, and I am pretty sure that she had spilled wine on her expensive bag.  As I watched her stumble out of the restaurant I realized that, sophisticated or simple, we are all the same kind of silly after a bottle of red…and it made me so happy (this realization, not the demise of her Prada bag)!

As you may have gathered from my previous blogs, I tend to compare myself to the people around me.  Constantly.  Annoyingly.  I don’t know how or when this started, but it can be freaking exhausting.  I always think that everyone else is holding it together just a little bit better than me.  I think it has a lot to do with my tendency to make quick assumptions about people. When I see someone that looks like they have it together I just assume that they do.  I tend to forget that at the core everyone has flaws and insecurities.  So, I have to admit when I see a pulled together person unravel a little bit it just reminds me that appearances are not everything.  Clearly we are all extremely complex beings and our choice of bags or jeans or beverages are not an indication of who we are as people.  Like the red wine drinking woman at the restaurant, everyone has "human" moments where our vulnerabilities are more obvious.  No one is perfection, all of the time.  And knowing this makes it a little easier for me to accept my imperfect self.    

So, some people sip red wine and talk about their worldly travels while others chug keg beer and talk about the Pats while some of us do both on different occassions.   As I mature I am learning that wine glass or red solo cup, we all have at least a little hot mess in us.   So starting this weekend I plan to worry a little less about what people think about me and what I am drinking and just enjoy my glass of red a little more.  I advise you do the same…unless you are still drinking Poland Spring vodka with Crystal Light packers.  Then I might advise you to put the drink down...

Until next time… 

The "Pan-doff"

So, most of you are probably wondering what a pan-doff is.  Well, it's the standoff that occurs when there is a dirty pan sitting in the sink and no one is willing to wash it.  I am sure that anyone that has lived with a roommate (ahem, husband/boyfriend/partner) has been in a pan-doff.  I, personally, get really frustrated that a dirty pan can sit in my sink for days without Steve even noticing.  Probably a lot more frustrated than is warranted given it is only a dirty pan.  But, the truth is, it's not just a pan.  It is a representation of the division of responsibility (or the lack thereof) in my house.  It's about who does and doesn't do the household chores, who takes care of the kids, and who has to take on all of the un-fun responsibilities.  I feel really strongly that, since both Steve and I work full-time, the chores and other household responsibilities should be divided evenly between the two of us.  So, when Steve recently left a pan in the sink I decided to make a point by not washing it. This was my (extremely passive-aggressive) way of making this grand point that I was not going to do more than him.  Unfortunately, my plan backfired since all he did for SEVEN DAYS was move it out of the way when he needed to get to the kitchen sink.  Oh how I wish I were a guy sometimes...

To give you some insight in to how I let this go on for so long, here is a day-by-day recap of a pan-doff in my house:

Day 1: Steve (who does the majority of cooking in the house, to be fair) made dinner.  I usually wash all of the dishes, but I did not eat this dinner as I was plagued with the stomach bug.  He used one of our frying pans and left the pan in the sink.  I was sick, so I didn’t clean it the following morning as I normally would. 

Days 2-5: As I got better, I noticed that the pan remained in the sink and I got really annoyed.  And, of course, I was convinced that Steve was doing this intentionally.  It was Steve's way of telling me it was my job to clean the pan and it didn’t matter that I wasn’t feeling good.  And he was making a point that ultimately domestic things, like cleaning a pan, were my responsibility.  He was just trying to show me who was boss.  (Please, keep in mind that Steve did not and has never said any of these things.) 

Ummmmm, what?  I don’t think so.   So, I decided around Day 3 that I would NOT be cleaning that pan.  If he was going to play that game, I was going to play it better.  So, I didn’t clean the pan.  I cleaned any and every dish that was dirtied during the week BUT the pan.  It sat in the sink and waited for someone (ANYONE) to clean it. But, sadly, no one did. 

Day 6:  I (finally) mentioned to Steve that we were in a “pan-doff”.  I told him that I had left a pan in the sink for 6 days and that I was getting really disgusted that it was still there.  I asked him how he felt about this.  I was expecting him to say something sassy (yes, guys can be sassy)…he thought that it was my responsibility to clean dishes…he didn’t think he should have to clean the dishes since he made the meal...I should be lucky that he would even cook.  But, do you want to know what he actually said?  “What pan?”   WHAT PAN????  What did he mean, what pan?  I explained I was referring to the pan that was in the sink ALL WEEK.  His response?  “I thought that pan was clean.”

Day 7:  Steve cleaned the pan, but only after a lot of teasing me about how ridiculous it was that I let this go on for a whole week without saying a word to him.  In one sense, I felt very victorious (I mean, he did clean the pan).  But I also felt like in some way, I lost.  

The reason that I am sharing this experience with you is to show you how big things can become when they are trapped in our heads.  If I had only asked Steve to clean that pan days earlier, he would have.  But I wanted to make a point and hold my ground.  The only points that I made were that a pan can sit in a sink for 7 days without growing mold and that Steve is oblivious to a dirty pan (or just isn't really bothered).  So, the lesson learned here was really two-fold.  First, I shouldn't assume that I know what someone else is thinking.  No two people think alike and what I may think is a passive-aggressive attempt to tell me something might just be…a dirty pan.  And, second, I need to loosen up.  A dirty pan is just that, a dirty pan.   There are far worse things in this world.  Like dirty toilet seats…

Until next time…

Running uphill with a jogging stroller

So I was running uphill the other day with my jogging stroller…Ok, I have to be real with all of you…So I was jalking (jog/walking) uphill the other day with my jogging stroller when it dawned on me exactly how having children has impacted my life.   Before I had Mia and Sophia, you could find me running in the same neighborhood on a nice Sunday afternoon.  That hasn’t changed.  What has changed is that I no longer run alone (now I am usually pushing a double-stroller and about 50 extra pounds) and I no longer run with an ipod (now I am usually answering a million toddler questions) and I am no longer training with a purpose (now I am just running as much as I can before I hear the dreaded “mom, Mia walk now?”).   It isn’t what I am doing that has changed, it is just how I am doing it.  Before I had kids my life was made up of family, work, margaritas, and running.  After kids my life is made up of…well, family, work, margaritas, and running.  (If you have to wonder why I slipped margaritas in to a list of clearly important things to me, we just don't hang out enough!)  The “whats” of my life are still the same.  It’s the “hows” that have changed.  How I manage work.  How I define success.  How I balance family.  How I fit running in to my life.  How I limit (or pay for not limiting) my margaritas;) 

I only have one item on my bucket list and that is to run the Boston marathon.  For someone like me that is not a natural runner, running any marathon would be a significant time commitment and a lot of work.  How could I possibly do this now that I am trying to balance so many other aspects of life?  The truth is, it would be harder now, but it would be just as possible as it would have been in the past.  Training now might mean “jalking” uphill with a 50 lb. jogging stroller instead of speed training at the track, fitting a quick run in during nap time instead of planning my whole Saturday around run, or chatting with a 2-year old about all the “whys” and “hows” of the neighborhood instead of listening to some kick ass music.  But the end result would be the same...one marathon complete and one (very short) bucket list fulfilled.

This realization is a pretty important one for me and one I wanted to share.  Like most new parents, I had a fear of the loss of freedom that would come when I had a baby.  I was a little panicked that whatever dreams I hadn’t accomplished would be impossible after having children.  So, the realization that I could do everything with kids that I did without came as a revelation to me…almost a relief.   There is no loss, only greater challenge.  This change in perspective is helping me to enjoy being a parent a little more because I know it just added to my life, it didn’t take anything away… well, except  my ability to sleep in and recover when margaritas get the best of me.

Until next time…

You gotta love' em, to love 'em

There are only two people in this whole, wide world that could drive me to the point of absolute craziness in one minute and then make me laugh to the point of tears in the next.  Yes.  I am referring to my two wonderful (and absolute crazy) toddlers.  These girls are truly the lights of my life.  They are my reasons for living.  And they are also clearly God’s way of paying me back for everything bad that I ever did.  EVER.  Like, since kindergarten. 

So, Mia is about two and a half and I haven’t really pushed potty training.  We have a potty and it is in the bathroom half of the time and the kitchen the other half, depending on where it has been pushed, but it doesn’t get used like it should.  The girls love it because it sings songs and lights up, not for its intended purpose (that would be crazy!).  I haven’t been stressing about the fact that Mia isn’t potty trained because I know she will do it when she’s ready.  However, lately she has started to tell me when she’s gone to the bathroom.  She then proceeds to go in to her room, undress, take off her diaper, wipe, put a new diaper back on, and get redressed.  Okay, so good news for me, I don’t have to change her diapers anymore.  But, isn’t that a clear indication that she is ready to use the potty?  Yeah, I thought so too.  However, when I tried to get her to sit on the potty instead of change her diaper she had an all-out, full-blown, over the top, way too dramatic meltdown.  There were basketball size tears, some thrashing around on the floor, a few swats at her sister and then me, followed by some wailing.  After a minute or two of this (she can really cram a lot of tantrum in to a short amount of time) I told her that she could go ahead and change her diaper.  She hopped up off the floor (all of a sudden the tears just stopped), said “OK mommy”, went in to her room, and changed her diaper.  All I could think was “where is this camera?  who is punking me”?  But, alas, no cameras.  This is my reality.

I love my toddlers because, well, I love them as people.  But, they are really tough.  They know what they want, but can’t always communicate it.  They want to be independent, but they are scared to be on their own.  They love to explore, but don’t really know their physical boundaries yet.   And, to top it off, they aren’t rational in any way, shape, or form.   What a combination!  Of course mine are extra crazy to boot (going back to the payback from God thing) making my life extra interesting.  Toddlers are challenging and they require lots and lots of patience.  I just hate that I feel so guilty when I lose that patience.

A good friend of mine (and a very experienced mom of four) once told me that toddlers are cute by design…otherwise they might not last too long.  I absolutely believe this is true.  They might be driving you (and everyone else around you) crazy and you might be reaching your limit and then all of a sudden they will say or do something so funny you think, “my life would be so boring without this kid”.   So, today’s blog is really a little reminder that it’s ok if you want to hug your toddler one minute and squeeeeeeeze them the next (wink, wink).  They push your buttons, so of course there will be moments when the only reason that you love them is because…you love them.  Don’t beat yourself up about it.  Think about it this way, if anyone else ever swatted you…while having a temper tantrum…in public, you would probably knock him/her out.  So, see, at least you’re not doing that!

Until next time…

So fitting...

If you were to ask me how my life has changed in the past couple of years since I had Mia, I could tell you all about it.  I am a mom now.  I have a daughter (well, two).  I don’t have the freedom that I used to have, but it’s worth it.  My life is full of routines and schedules.  There were so many external changes, I could talk about them for hours.  But, if you were to ask me how I have changed in the past couple of years since I had Mia, I couldn’t verbalize it for you.  What I could tell you is that I know I have changed and that it happened in the single instant when Mia was born.  The moment that she was born was like the moment the Grinch’s heart grew.  It was that instantaneous and dramatic and amazing.  But, the magnitude of this change combined with the speed at which it occurred on top of the chaos that entered my life immediately following it, made it/make it really difficult to wrap my head around.  I am a different person in ways I don’t even understand yet.  After you have a baby there are so many obvious physical changes, but what about those other, more subtle changes?  I mean I knew that post-baby I would have to have to work hard to fit back in to my jeans, but I never expected that I would have to work so hard to fit back in to my life!

From the moment you find out you are having a baby, you anticipate great change.  You will no longer just be looking out for yourself.  You will actually be responsible for another little person and you have to make sure that he or she eats, sleeps, and stays clean, healthy, and happy.  I knew a baby meant a lot less nights out on the town with friends and a lot more sleepless nights at home.  I expected to be on a tighter budget and to spend less quality time with Steve.  I even looked forward to spending weekends at children’s museums instead of shopping with friends and lounging on the couch watching Cinderella instead of Golden Girls marathons (although I do miss my GG from time to time).  But I just wasn’t prepared for the ways that I would change as a person.  I grew up.  My friendships changed.  My values changed.  My focus changed.  

  

One of the hardest things for me to come to terms with has been the changing friendships.  I just generally feel very disconnected from the people in my life that I used to feel very close to.  I don’t have the same things to talk about (although I was always known for a good poop-talk, so my conversations may not be as different as I would like to think), I don’t have as many hobbies as I used to (actually, I am down to about…1, and no one wants to talk about running!) so I feel pretty boring, and I just don’t have as much time to spend bonding with my friends so space and time definitely get in the way.  The truth is, I don’t know what I have to offer all of my friends other than a good conversation about the sleep habits of a toddler and a funny story about how Sophia said…you get the point.  I am a mom.  That is who I am now.  And I haven’t figured out how to be both a mom and my former self.

After you have a baby, people prepare you for the obvious (sleepless nights, poopy diapers, spit-up).  But, I wish I was a little more prepared for the things that they don’t mention.  You change.  And it’s confusing.  And you struggle a lot with figuring out who you are all over again.  And your friendships change.  Sometimes temporarily.  Sometimes permanently.  And you look at the world differently.  And you probably should never, EVER wear a half-shirt ever again (had to throw it in there).  So, for now I am just hanging in there and focusing on the things I can change…like fitting back in to my jeans for starters.

Until next time…

Oh snap!!

I know most of you will be shocked at this but…I snap at my husband.  A lot.  In fact, sometimes I find myself snapping at him regardless of what he does.  For example, when he folds the laundry I snap at him about how he does it (he is really horrible at folding).  When he sits on the couch and watches me fold, I snap at him for not helping.   When he disciplines the kids, I snap at him for being mean.  When he doesn’t discipline the kids, I snap at him for being a pushover.  The poor guy!  He just can’t win with me. 

Lately I have become more conscious of this and I really want to work on it.  I love my husband and I know that he loves me.  In fact, I think that might be part of the problem.  I am not a confrontational person and somewhat of a people-pleaser.  So, I feel like I go through work and life just absorbing frustration without any other way of diffusing it.  Typically, if I get upset or frustrated with a co-worker, a family member, or a friend (of course I don’t mean you, you never frustrate me;) I don’t address it.  I just kind of keep it inside, where it festers.  I have this fear that by being assertive I would offend people or make people not like me.  NO, NOT THAT!  LOL. It’s a silly fear, I know, but it’s my fear.  Anyway, this frustration just builds up and builds up and it needs to go somewhere.  In comes Stephen.

I feel comfortable enough with Steve that I know if I snap at him, he won’t hold it against me (at least not forever).  I don’t have that sense of security with most of the people in my life.  But that almost makes it worse.  That totally plays in to the old adage “You always hurt the ones you love”.  And it just shouldn’t be that way.  So, I am really going to try and make a change.  I am going to try and stop...I am going to try and cut back (let’s be realistic, I am not perfect) on my snapping.   I know Steve doesn’t deserve it and I don’t want to misdirect my anger towards him. Howver, I definitely give myself a few passes during softball season. 

So, kids, I think today’s lesson is that we should really cherish those people in our lives that we can be completely open with, not take advantage of them.  I think most women care a little too much about what other people think and it is really nice to have someone in your life that you can be totally comfortable with.  Why be mad at that person when it’s everyone else that is ticking you off?  I’m not saying that you should NEVER snap at your husband.  I am sure that they will do plenty of things that are snap-worthy.  Just take a second and think before you snap…and then call your boss and tell him where to go insteadJ 

Until next time… 

Why does it all have to end?

The motivation to write this blog came earlier today while I was running on the treadmill.  Whenever I use the treadmill (which is often these days as I am usually fitting a run in between conference calls or in the 30-minutes of overlapping naptime), I turn on every possible electronic device I have in an attempt to distract from the fact that I am killing myself and not actually going anywhere.  For those of you that have run on a treadmill, you can understand this need to distract.  Anyway, today there happened to be a cheer and dance competition on ESPN.  It ended being a great motivator (I ran my butt off and didn’t even realize it since I was so focused on the tv) but it was also a really awesome reminder of the many, many years I spent dancing and cheering.

As I was watching the teams today, I was affected in a couple of ways.  First, I actually got adrenaline rushes thinking about all of the times that I competed or performed in front of an audience or judges.  And, second, I got emotional thinking about all of the amazing memories that I had with each of the teams that I was part of.  It really hit me hard when the teams were done performing and the camera panned to the team crying and hugging, proud of what they had just accomplished (cue, tear).

Some people enjoy the art of performance, while others dread it.  I am definitely the former.  For me, there is nothing more thrilling than getting up in front of an audience and performing.  I love everything from the pre-performance jitters to the rush that comes when a routine is completed flawlessly.  I love the dramatic makeup and dressing up in a costume.  I love catching a judges eye during a performance and feeling the pride when they give you a little nod and a smile to say “good job”.  I love the acting that comes along with performing and all of the changing facial expressions (if you have ever seen the range of facial expressions that my kids have, you could guess who now gets to be the audience to my “performances”).  And, for all those cheerleaders out there, I LOVE SPIRIT FINGERS.  How can anyone not smile at even just the thought of spirit fingers?  (Jazz hands are ok too, but they are no spirit fingers.)

But seriously, to be competitive and to be part of something physical is such a great experience.  A team forces people to bond and work together.  Watching those dance teams today hug and cry together brought me back in time (circa 1992-2000).  When, for at least the few minutes that you were performing, you forgot about drama and fights or jealousy and competitiveness and you just did your best to work together.  And, when the team thrived or failed, at least it was as a team.  You were never on your own.  You were part of something. 

Sadly, it has been a long time since I have performed anything that didn’t involve a power point presentation and since I have been a part of a team that wasn’t paid to work together.  And, until this morning, I didn’t realize how much I miss it.  I did some combination of dancing, cheering, and gymnastics from the age of about three to the age of twenty-one, when I graduated from college.  So, I have to wonder, why does it have to end?  Why is it that when we grow up and go in to the adult world, when we need the confidence and pride of a good performance and the support and camaraderie of a team more than any other time in our lives, the opportunity is no longer there?  I recognize that a 33-year old mom of 2 might look pretty ridiculous in a cheerleading uniform with lollipop pants, but maybe I secretly wish it were possible (and maybe Steve does too, just sayin’).  Maybe I wish that there was still a reason to toilet paper houses the night before Thanksgiving, or to wear a track suit on the day of big games, or to do toe-touches and hurkies  for every free-throw, or to wear hooker-like eyeliner (aka “stage makeup”) and sanda-soles.  Unfortunately, I can wish all I want, those days are over.  But I will thank God and all of the awesome people that I have come to know over the years for every single memory that I have.

So, as I move on to the next phase in my life where it is now my job to bring my own children to their practices, competitions, and games, I am excited but sad.  And slightly worried about becoming the next mom on Dance Moms (if you haven't watched it yet, you must).  But, I guess the answer to my question really is it ends so it can begin all over again…for someone elseJ  Here’s to hoping that my kids have the same great experiences that I did!

Until next time…

I don’t normally have a p.s., but I do want to say thank you to my Holy Cross and Matignon girls and especially my Scalzi family. I know that over the years, I probably put you all through a lot, so thank you for putting up with me and for allowing me to look back at some pretty rough years of my life and have such great memories.  Love you all.  XOXOXO

On the fence...

Before I even kick off the blog, I want to start by saying that I wrote this a week ago.  Ironically, this week has been one of those "fell off the fence" kinds of weeks, so this could not have come at a more perfect time...

Imagine a fence.  On one side of the fence are the women that have made the decision to stay at home and raise their children.  On the other side of the fence are the women that have made the decision to focus on their career.  Making such a clear-cut decision allows a woman to focus their energy on one thing and be great at it.  I am not saying that these decisions are “easy” and don’t have their own set of challenges, just that they are well-defined.  But what about those of us that want to be both a full-time mom and a successful career woman.  We don’t belong on either side of the fence.  What about those of us who choose to live “on the fence”?  

The moment I had children they became my number one priority and focus.  But, that didn’t change the fact that my career is a huge part of who I am.  I have always done really well at my job, even during times of complete chaos in my personal life.  There was a time when I was a complete mess and my success at work was something (one of the only things, actually) that I continued to do well at and that made me feel good about myself.  Because of that, and because I am so proud of what I do, my job means a lot to me.  Don’t get me wrong, if my life was a scale and my career was on one end and motherhood was on the other, I would always prefer that the scale tip in the favor of motherhood.  No doubt.  But that doesn’t mean I am ready to give up my career altogether.

Usually the decisions that we make in life don’t impact our other decisions so directly.  But being a parent and achieving success in your career is like trying to be a professional athlete in two different sports.  The relationship is inverse.  Every bit of energy and focus that you give to one is energy that is taken from the other.  Only a very few people can be completely successful in both areas.  And, unfortunately, I am not the Michael Jordan of motherhood.  If I need to focus on my kids, I am not usually stellar in my job.  If I need to focus on my job, my poor kids usually have a much less patient mom.  

So, I have been asking myself “how do I balance on the fence?”  I have thought a lot about this and I have come to the conclusion that the concept of total balance between work and family is pure crap.  I apologize to every self-help author that has focused on this, but I don’t think that such balance can exist.  We can’t be it all.  We constantly have to make decisions that put us on one side of the fence or the other, although what side we are on may change from minute-to-minute.  And the fact that there are books, seminars, and the like out there telling me that this balance can exist just makes me feel so much worse and annoys me.  So, I am here to tell all of you out there don’t feel like you are failing in any way just because you can’t seem to achieve balance!  I think that true balance is achieved when we are at peace with the decisions that we have made.  So, for those of you who have made or will make the decision to be both a mom and a career woman, go ahead and live on the fence.  I can promise you that you will fall on you’re a^&…often.  But just get up, dust yourself off, and hop back on!

Until next time…

Middle of the night fight

So, it’s about midnight now and I was lounging on the couch with Steve (who is right now sound asleep) and felt this compulsion to get up and write this blog, which I have been thinking about for a few days.  Having just survived a few rough nights in this house (i.e., a couple of kids that have been waking up for various reasons), I just wanted to briefly discuss the “middle of the night fight”.    I believe that this is a phenomenon that most couples can relate to, with or without kids.  However, I think that the addition of kids alters the dynamic of the fight quite a bit.  Prior to kids, these arguments are probably the result of the preceding cocktails consumed and usually do not follow sleep of any kind.  And it is these two points that make the two situations incomparable.  The fight that I am referring to is the argument between two individuals who have been awoken out of a sound sleep in the dead-middle of the night and who are unable to return to sleep (at least one of them anyway) at their own will.  This fight is totally irrational, given the states of minds of the individuals involved, and usually involves a lot of senseless and sarcastic insults and accusations.  However, what makes this fight unusual is what happens the next morning…

Let me provide you a hypothetical example, just so you can wrap your head around this.  It is approximately 2 o’clock in the morning.  You and your significant other have been in bed/asleep since approximately 11 o’clock, following a solid 14 hours of kids, work, dinner, kids, and exercise (in no particular order).  You are dreaming of being on a beach with a margarita and your husband (or maybe someone else, but that would be another blog altogether) when all of a sudden you hear the noise that every parent dreads.  This noise can be a variety of things (baby screaming, toddler yelling, baby screaming and toddler yelling), so for this “hypothetical” example let’s say it is the sweet sounds of a toddler yelling. You wait it out for a while, hoping that this yelling stops and that the yeller falls back to sleep.  But you know you can’t wait too long because you can’t risk one kid waking up the other…it’s game over.  So, you look over at your partner, your other half, the one who contributed in the making of this wonderful little creature.  You are hoping that, given the fact that you got up the night before (and most likely the one before that and the one before that…), he will volunteer to get up and let you sleep.  But, alas, he is snoring and hasn’t even heard the yelling.  So, you get up and try to resolve the situation on your own.  Fast forward to 4 o’clock in the morning.  You are still awake with this toddler and it appears that he/she just wants to chat and watch episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. You are exhausted and out of ideas.  You also know that you have to get up for work the next morning and you’re dreading that alarm clock.  It is usually in that moment that you hear it, the noise that all wives dread…Your husband. Still. Snoring.  It is in that moment that you realize that he is at fault for everything that has ever gone wrong in your life.  It is in that moment that you snap and all ability to be and feel rational is gone.

At my house (this is no longer a hypothetical), this is about the time that I yell at Steve for not waking up.  I usually go on a tirade about how ridiculous it is that he never wakes up when the girls make noise in the middle of the night.  Sometimes, I go on about how my job is just as important as his job and how I wish he would respect the fact that I have to work too.  Other times, I just get emotional and cry about how I want a partner in this parenting thing and not someone who will sleep through the crying.  Most of the time Steve has absolutely no idea what is going on, given the fact he has just been woken up, but once in a while he will get angry too and we argue.  WHAT JUST HAPPENED???

For Steve and me, this always ends the same way.  We fight, the fight ends, one or both of us get the kid(s) back to sleep, we get back to bed ourselves, and we wake up the next morning and ACT AS IF NOTHING HAPPENED.  This is the phenomenon of the middle of the night fight.  We never talk about it and we never hold grudges about it.  To be honest, I am not even sure that we remember it half of the time.  But, unlike most of our arguments (we are both grudge-holders), we just let it go.  No judgment.

Some of you might think this sounds a little unhealthy.  To each his own, I guess.  I personally think that this sounds like survival.  Hell, to me this is survival.  As a parent, I give so much to my children and I am not referring to material things.  I give my love, my mental and physical energy, my time, my patience, and (against my will) my sleep.  Sometimes you need to release the frustration that comes from all of this giving up.  For me those times usually come in the middle of the night when I am exhausted and frustrated and super, SUPER sick of mickey mouse.  

So my advice to all of you parents out there that have or will experience a middle of the night fight is just try to start the next morning with a clean slate.  Give yourselves a break!  To those of you that do not experience these fights, please send me your name and number because my kids are coming to stay with you and your extremely positive (and, let's face it, a little annoying) dipositionJ

Until next time…