Mama juice
So, I haven't been at this full time all the time stay at home mom thing for very long yet, but I am learning some things:
It's possible to go so long without an adult conversation, that the sound of the breast pump motor starts to sound like real words. I'm not the only one who thinks this; E is also convinced it is talking, and she brought the subject up without any prompting from me.
It is possible to be eat a meal while planning what you will have during the next (I've always kind of been that way because I love food, but it's getting worse. I plan my snacks in advance now, too.)
It is possible (and not in a bragging my-life-is crazier-than-yours kind of way, because I used to claim this was true, but it really wasn't, until now) to not only not fit in a shower, but to entirely forget to brush your teeth--for a whole day.
It is also possible to forget to brush your children's teeth--for a whole day.
It is possible to answer the phone even when you know it is a sales person, just to hear another voice at the other end.
It is possible to eat five times the calories you actually need out of sheer boredom.
It is possible to nurse a baby, prepare and serve a meal, and monitor (loosely) the goings on of a four and a two year old all at the same time.
I could go on, but I'll spare you the rest. Suffice it to say I'm feeling a little harried these days. My typical responses to this level of chaos are typically frustration, hopelessness, and a feeling I don't have a name for but I imagine is something close to lunacy. In the past, I would talk myself down from the cliff with the mental reminder that in only one day, I'd be sitting in my office answering emails from my students, sipping a latte, making photocopies, or teaching college kids how to write better essays. Then I'd have a particularly frustrating day at work with all the same feelings rising up again, and I would console myself with the reminder that in only one day, I'd be curled up on the sofa reading my girls stories or cooking a good meal or playing hide and seek in the yard. You can see how this cycle must have gone--it's something my dad likes to call "duck and dodge." Usually, he's using it to refer to avoiding conflict with one of the five females he's lived with most of his life, but it works here, too: dodge the conflict by ducking out for awhile.
No can do, anymore. But here's what has happened. Life has slowed down, and I'm finding I'll take harried over hurried any day of the week. When I need a little pick me up or a recharge it has to come from where I am right now: at home, in my PJ's till noon, unkempt, with a baby in one arm, a toddler in another, and a preschooler bouncing around somewhere below eye level.
I'm actually surprised that rejuvenation can come out of such chaos. When I take a minute to breathe, to stop trying to fix everything, and when I get precious one-on-one time with just one of my kids, even if for a few short minutes, I start to really see them and to appreciate the stages they're in, and to revel in the intricacies of their little personalities.
Mama juice.
Here's a sampling of what I've been drinking in lately:
Lots of smiles from my tiny little guy, especially when he gets face-to-face contact with someone he knows and loves. They're crooked little grins, but oh so cute.
First laughs--we only get those when we play pat-a-cake, but they're just as precious and rarer.
Small victories like E fixing her own breakfast, A putting on her own rain boots, and K clasping his little hands in front of him.
Deep thoughts shared between a four and a two year old: "Audyn, it's a miracle of God! The R puzzle piece used to be blue, and now it's green!" or "Let's pretend the mama horse is having a baby, but we don't know what she's having yet. Whether it's a horse, or a foal, or a bear..."
After-dinner dance parties with E and A, when they put all their creative energy and dress up clothes into the performance.
Little girl squeals of delight when daddy pulls in the driveway, home from work.
Sister love: Listening to E and A read books or tell stories to each other and make up silly songs in the bathtub, in the car, or on a walk. A bringing K his Nuk, a bear, or whatever else she thinks he might need. E. handing out regular kisses to her little brother and hugs to her little sister.
Taking joy in the small things that energize an otherwise ordinary day has been very healing for this mama. Not too long ago, I felt like my whole world had been turned upside down and shaken out. Well, it had. But it's not such a bad thing. And I'm discovering that in place of accomplishment and to do lists, I'm finding lots of peace and joy in watching my kids, waiting to see what they'll do next, how they'll surprise me, how they'll sweep me off my feet with head over heels love again and again.
I won't lie, this is not an easy stage of life--it's exhausting, frustrating, and demanding. But my goal is to taste the sweet now, not reminisce about it later when all three have grown up and moved on. I don't want to wish that I had enjoyed it more than I did. I want to love it and them right now, right here. Today.
It's possible to go so long without an adult conversation, that the sound of the breast pump motor starts to sound like real words. I'm not the only one who thinks this; E is also convinced it is talking, and she brought the subject up without any prompting from me.
It is possible to be eat a meal while planning what you will have during the next (I've always kind of been that way because I love food, but it's getting worse. I plan my snacks in advance now, too.)
It is possible (and not in a bragging my-life-is crazier-than-yours kind of way, because I used to claim this was true, but it really wasn't, until now) to not only not fit in a shower, but to entirely forget to brush your teeth--for a whole day.
It is also possible to forget to brush your children's teeth--for a whole day.
It is possible to answer the phone even when you know it is a sales person, just to hear another voice at the other end.
It is possible to eat five times the calories you actually need out of sheer boredom.
It is possible to nurse a baby, prepare and serve a meal, and monitor (loosely) the goings on of a four and a two year old all at the same time.
I could go on, but I'll spare you the rest. Suffice it to say I'm feeling a little harried these days. My typical responses to this level of chaos are typically frustration, hopelessness, and a feeling I don't have a name for but I imagine is something close to lunacy. In the past, I would talk myself down from the cliff with the mental reminder that in only one day, I'd be sitting in my office answering emails from my students, sipping a latte, making photocopies, or teaching college kids how to write better essays. Then I'd have a particularly frustrating day at work with all the same feelings rising up again, and I would console myself with the reminder that in only one day, I'd be curled up on the sofa reading my girls stories or cooking a good meal or playing hide and seek in the yard. You can see how this cycle must have gone--it's something my dad likes to call "duck and dodge." Usually, he's using it to refer to avoiding conflict with one of the five females he's lived with most of his life, but it works here, too: dodge the conflict by ducking out for awhile.
No can do, anymore. But here's what has happened. Life has slowed down, and I'm finding I'll take harried over hurried any day of the week. When I need a little pick me up or a recharge it has to come from where I am right now: at home, in my PJ's till noon, unkempt, with a baby in one arm, a toddler in another, and a preschooler bouncing around somewhere below eye level.
I'm actually surprised that rejuvenation can come out of such chaos. When I take a minute to breathe, to stop trying to fix everything, and when I get precious one-on-one time with just one of my kids, even if for a few short minutes, I start to really see them and to appreciate the stages they're in, and to revel in the intricacies of their little personalities.
Mama juice.
Here's a sampling of what I've been drinking in lately:
Lots of smiles from my tiny little guy, especially when he gets face-to-face contact with someone he knows and loves. They're crooked little grins, but oh so cute.
First laughs--we only get those when we play pat-a-cake, but they're just as precious and rarer.
Small victories like E fixing her own breakfast, A putting on her own rain boots, and K clasping his little hands in front of him.
Deep thoughts shared between a four and a two year old: "Audyn, it's a miracle of God! The R puzzle piece used to be blue, and now it's green!" or "Let's pretend the mama horse is having a baby, but we don't know what she's having yet. Whether it's a horse, or a foal, or a bear..."
After-dinner dance parties with E and A, when they put all their creative energy and dress up clothes into the performance.
Little girl squeals of delight when daddy pulls in the driveway, home from work.
Sister love: Listening to E and A read books or tell stories to each other and make up silly songs in the bathtub, in the car, or on a walk. A bringing K his Nuk, a bear, or whatever else she thinks he might need. E. handing out regular kisses to her little brother and hugs to her little sister.
Taking joy in the small things that energize an otherwise ordinary day has been very healing for this mama. Not too long ago, I felt like my whole world had been turned upside down and shaken out. Well, it had. But it's not such a bad thing. And I'm discovering that in place of accomplishment and to do lists, I'm finding lots of peace and joy in watching my kids, waiting to see what they'll do next, how they'll surprise me, how they'll sweep me off my feet with head over heels love again and again.
I won't lie, this is not an easy stage of life--it's exhausting, frustrating, and demanding. But my goal is to taste the sweet now, not reminisce about it later when all three have grown up and moved on. I don't want to wish that I had enjoyed it more than I did. I want to love it and them right now, right here. Today.