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…