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Crazy Just Got Crazier
I talk about struggling for balance, for never having enough time in the day. I lament that I want to cut back at work and spend more time at home with the kids. So what is my genius solution? Enter a writing contest.
NaNoWriMo is a writing program where you write a novel in 30 days. 50,000 words in 30 days. 1,667 words per day. The goal is not have a finished product, but rather just to get ideas down. I am not supposed to edit, just write. Hmm, run my mouth without censoring, I can probably handle that.
You are entitled to skip straight to the comments and tell me that I am an idiot for signing up for this. But here’s the thing, writing gives me balance, it’s how I sort out emotions, diffuse anger and appreciate life. I have always dreamed of writing a book and a good friend suggested I turn my stories that I blog about into a semi-fiction book about being a crazy parent. So I am going for it. Will I have a finished product December 1st? No, but I’ll have a very rough draft. Very rough I said!
Occasionally I might share an excerpt here, both to get feedback and to not overwhelm myself with blogging and writing. So here we go, your first sneak peek (remember, just ideas, not a Pulitzer submission) of “Parenting Taught Me I Don’t Know Sh*t”. (I haven’t made the philosophical decision about swearing in my novel. I don’t swear on my blog, but I do swear in real life).
Okay, I am stalling, hear you go:
Pregnancy and Private Planes
A week into bed-rest my husband has to attend the wedding of a college buddy. It’s a 2 hour plane ride from home and he “has to go” because he is the best man. What about his best wife and best, going-to-be-born-at-any-moment baby?! After a few hormonal battles, I agree to let him go, like I ever had a choice??? My cousin, who has a two-year-old agrees to come stay with me since I am still on bed-rest which clearly means I need a baby-sitter! (I was also bored and thrilled for the company!)
I call my husband and… get f’ing voice mail! What?! He is supposed to have his cell phone on him at all times in case I need him. We had agreed he would only turn it off during the 20 minute ceremony! Fine, I leave a message and will call again in 21 minutes. 19 minutes later I call again – voice mail. I leave another message and wait. 10 minutes, 20 minutes, I am approaching hysteria!
My cousin tries to point out the obvious – I am not in labor, but all I can say is , “But what if I were?!” I leave another irate message about him not caring about me and the baby, and being an irresponsible father before he even has a baby. My husband will tell you I left 15+ similar messages, I say prove it! When he finally calls me back SIX HOURS LATER he is breathless, panicked and remorseful. “I am sorry babe, my phone battery died and no one else brought their phones into the wedding. I have been running around for hours trying to find a phone to call you. Is everything okay? I checked my voice mail and it said I had 15 messages, what happened?!”
As I listen to him talk, I realize the impossible – he is drunk! “Have you been drinking?! You promised me you wouldn’t drink in case you had to get home in a hurry! What were you thinking?” “Babe, listen. I have had a few drinks. It’s an open bar and I am the best man. When the father-of-the-bride handed us shots, it would have been rude to say no”. “Rude to say no!” I thunder, “Rude would be missing your baby’s birth because you’re too drunk to get home!” “Honey,” he says as if he’s talking to a tantruming two-year-old, “you’re not in labor, right?” “Well, no, but I could have been!”. He then tried to be the good guy, “Babe, I know it’s hard being on bed-rest, but if I needed to get home, I could take a cab to the airport and be on the next flight.” I can’t be pacified, “Well what if I needed you in the middle of the night and there were no flights?! Would you charter a private plane?” “Sweetie, the doctor said first babies are usually late and labor takes hours, even days, I am sure I would make it” “Well OUR baby is not most babies! Tell me you would charter a private plane if I needed you!” “Honey, a private plane is tens of thousands of dollars, get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning”. I will not be dissuaded, “TELL ME YOU WOULD CHARTER A PRIVATE PLANE!” “Honey, I promise I will get there for the birth of our child, I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you and our baby.” At this point, my cousin takes the phone, hands me some herbal tea and just smiles. She’s smart enough not to try to reason with crazy.
Of course, it’s fiction, who really acts like that? I did.
Another Halloween Aftermath – Sticky Skeletons
Candy is not the only diabolical treat handed out on Halloween. My children also received little sticky rubber skeletons. They’re “great” – you can throw them at the wall and they stick for a few seconds before falling off. It was all fun and games until Mr. Skeleton was launched towards my vaulted ceiling…
My husband, the kids and I sat there waiting for Mr. Skeleton to come down. After a few minutes, a leg came off. I figured it was only a matter of time until the rest of him came down, or so we thought. When we realized he was making a permanent home on our entry way ceiling, it was time for drastic measures. We threw a whiffle ball, then a nerf ball, then a soccer ball. The soccer ball only smushed him harder to the ceiling. We then got out the “tool” we use to change the light bulbs in our vaulted ceiling. My husband proceeded to drag that along the ceiling, leaving little scrape marks, but still the pesky skeleton wouldn’t budge. He finally had to get out an extension ladder and climb up and pull the sticky little guy down.
I hope my HUSBAND learned a valuable lesson about throwing things at the ceiling. What, you thought it was my kids?
What things has your spouse done to make you think they are one of the kids?
I had to use the zoom lens for this one...
Happy Halloween from June Cleaver
In the spirit of Halloween, I am going to be Supermom today and when I say Supermom, I mean June Cleaver, I love that woman and am not comfortable in tights and a cape. If my son can be GI Joe and my daughter can be Belle, a kitty, Sleeping Beauty, a Cheerleader and a skeleton (it’s changing by the minute) than I should be allowed to take on a new persona.
So what has supermom done so far – Made my family pumpkin pancakes from scratch (well mostly, ignore the canned pumpkin) and cleaned the kitchen – what you wanted more?! It’s only 10:00 am in California! You may be saying to yourself, did she come up with this bogus post just to brag about the pancakes – yes, possibly. As I sit and type my husband is vacuuming – does that mean I have already broken character?
Now for a costume… does supermom wear flannel pants and an old t-shirt? Does she have dirty hair and flour on her face? No? Hmmm… I will work on this – I would love to dress as my idol June Cleaver (without the heels, I am not that tough). I might have to whip out my sewing machine… ha ha ha, sorry I was laughing so hard, I had to stop typing, I don’t even own a sewing machine! But I do have a glue gun and a stolen stapler (sorry, I can’t talk about it, I plead the 5th).
If supermom aka June doesn’t work out, I will still celebrate Halloween by eating all of my kid’s candy and scarring (yes, that was intentional – scaring AND scarring) people with my off-balance behavior!
How’s your Halloween going? Have you been a Monster Mommy? If so, you may be a contender in my Mom of the Year Contest! The deadline for submission is tomorrow! Don’t forget, we have a celebrity judge – Lori from In Pursuit of Martha Points is picking the winner. You can go lobby for yourself at her site, but she is likely out launching an attack on her neighbor’s Halloween decorations today.
Late breaking news – my husband just came in to vacuum this room and told me he started the laundry and cleaned the bathrooms – I guess I am no June Cleaver, back to the drawing board… Any ideas for me?
Parents Need a Break… from Themselves
As parents, we are under a lot of pressure. We want to raise our kids well and be great at all things we do. We push ourselves for silly perfection and are our own worst critics. Why is that when a friend calls me with a bad day or a stranger tweets that she sucks at being a mom, I have sympathy and words of encouragement, but I tell myself to pull it together and stop whining?!
Parenting is tough, it is one of the most rewarding, exhausting roles a person can engage in. It is a lifetime commitment that we cannot execute perfectly everyday. There will be the days we lose our tempers, ignore the requests of our children and be cranky to those around us, but then we pull it together and make the next day better (or next week, or next month…). We need to be accountable, but not overly self-critical. We need to accept that we get exhausted, overwhelmed, frustrated, maybe even lost. But we need to focus on loving our miraculous children AND ourselves.
I am not a psychologist – I’ll give you a moment to recover from the shock… I merely know how hard I push myself and I watch my friends do the same. I know that I hold myself to a higher standard than I hold others, not because I think I am capable of more, but because I undervalue my own contributions compared to others. So if I give myself a little slack, will you do the same?
How will you give yourself a break?
Give yourself a hug
5 Types of Over-Balanced Moms
You know what I am talking about, the too perfect and know-it-all moms…
I know what you’re going to say: “But Paige, you preach that every mother should be valued and not judged”. Correction – real people should be valued, but I choose to mock stereotypes all I want! And as for why I have decided to call them “over-balanced” ? Well everybody knows that too much of a good thing will make you sick! So to make the rest of us real mom’s feel better here we go…
- Too-Perfect-Mom: Nothing ever falls out of her car when she drops the kids off at school. She attends every event and brings homemade baked goods for all occasions. She’s never late and never looks like she just rolled out of bed. You have never seen her raise her voice to her angelic children and when you describe your chaotic day, she just gives you a sympathetic smile. She is NOT in the running for Mother of the Year! (But you could be if you submit…)
- Fashionista Mom: Always perfectly coiffed, trendy and never stained. Whether it’s early morning drop-off or coming from the gym, she never looks frumpy or disheveled. We all have our good days, but she’s never had a bad one.
- Know-It-All-Mom: She is an authority on everything. She tells you what you’re doing wrong as a parent (and possibly everything else) and how to correct it.
- Age Defying Mom – She has given birth to four kids and looks like she is 18. Perfectly toned, perky boobs, no wrinkles and she eats pizza and cupcakes at every party. The only consolation is imagining she has a plastic surgeon on speed dial, but alas, you’re sure she just has good genes.
- Overly-Talented-Mom: She’s athletic, a fabulous cook, crafty and decorated her model home. She sews all of her children’s darling clothes and made a breathtaking mission out of dried pasta and baking soda for her child’s school project. Everything she does is flawless and fabulous. I have a friend like this, but she’s crazy, so I still love her.
In revolt of over-balance, I present you with Paige:
- I am mildly athletic, if you count that I don’t usually trip when I walk.
- When I cook dinner, my husband tells me to focus on the main course and he’ll handle the rest
- The only thing I’ve made with my glue gun is a mess
- I forgot my daughter’s snack day at preschool… EVERY TIME FOR THE WHOLE YEAR! (sorry Miss Jill!)
- My best clothes are Target sales rack and my nanny has had to intervene when I tried to leave the house in a pathetic state
- I have a small fortune worth of half-empty water bottles floating around my car
- When I am on my “A” game, I close my windows before I yell
- The only thing I consider myself an expert on is being a crazy, off-balance mommy
Are you over-balanced? If so, what’s the secret? Prozac and wine??
If you’re off-balanced, like me? What’s your shining moment? I can hear what you’re thinking, that’s a funny one, you should enter my Mom of the Year Contest.
I'm no June Cleaver...
Working Moms Raise Their Kids Too
“I thought about going back to work too, but I didn’t want someone else raising my kids.”
This is what a very sweet, well-meaning, mother said to me this morning at my daughter’s gymnastics class. I wanted to respond with something like, “Yep, I wanted to have children for the picture frames and then send them off and check in with them on holidays”, but this mom was very nice and she meant well, so I smiled and said, “Yep, it’s a balance”.
Our nanny usually takes my daughter to the class since I work, but today, I took her and was given the once over and “Oh you must be her mom…”. Yes, my daughter has a mother. No, the nanny doesn’t leave her with a pack of female wolves at the end of the day.
As I see it, I do raise my children. Yes, there are 7 hours of preschool and 33 hours of a nanny per week, but otherwise, the buck stops here. The preschool is one I picked based on my personal beliefs on what is most important at this age. I interviewed 7 preschools before choosing this one. I provide direction for our nanny. I set the parameters for discipline and I set the tone for how they are cared for. In other words, I work AND I raise my children. I have people who help me, just as we have teachers who help instruct our children. But I ensure my daughter is raised as the demanding, hilarious diva I had hoped for and I am diligent in raising a control-freak, OCD son who will likely be CEO of a major corporation someday (how else will I retire?). And before I step off my soapbox, here is some evidence that my children are a product of my influence:
- My son will not leave his room if a drawer is open and he cannot sleep if the closet door isn’t closed
- My daughter likes to dance in her underwear on a chair
- My son will correct you if you’re doing it wrong
- My daughter will not stay in her room for time out “Nobody puts Baby in a corner”
- My son will stick up for the picked on kid at school
- My daughter has a snuggling addiction
- My son likes to know the rules
- My daughter likes to break the rules
- My son is super-competitive
- My daughter cheats to win
OMG, wait, I take it all back! I work full-time, who the hell raised these kids?!
I did, I do and I am proud of the results. All parents raise their kids, we just employ different methods of doing it.
What’s the biggest impact you have made on your kids or your parents have made on you?
Kids Are Like Power Outages
Our power was out for 14 hours starting just before dinner time yesterday. Yes, my night was filled with fights over flash lights and trying to put my kids to bed without their usual movie and book. While the candlelight was beautiful, it certainly heightened the normal Sunday night stress.
I realized that my kids and power outages have a few things in common:
- I have no control when either will be on or off
- Depending on my frame of mind, they can either be enjoyable or a pain in the “flashlight”
- Both are beautiful, but can lead to injuries. Candlelight = unnoticed suitcase on the floor
- They both throw off my routine and cause chaos
- They make you appreciate the times when things are running smoothly
- Abandoned dinner plans are typical side effects
- Sleepless nights are par for the course
- They both require lots of batteries
- Messes are inevitable (de-frosting freezer…)
- They both have varying degrees of severity: Brown out = cranky, Blackout = temper tantrum
- Things eventually return to “normal”
My life is back to “normal”. The flashlight wars are over, I have cleaned up the melted popsicles and I have almost re-set all of the one million clocks in our home. And for my next trick…
Why Are Other People’s Kids So Cute?
I adore my children, but do not plan to have any more. There are several reasons we are stopping at two. The biggest reason is our sanity. My husband and I are both type A, OCD ridden individuals who need order and structure to survive. Any more kids would take what little shred of balance we have left and flush it down the toilet with the Legos and Silly Bandz. We currently can play man-on-man defense and I am not skilled enough to switch to zone defense. As my cousin always tells me, “Two hands, two kids. If God wanted you to have more kids, he would have given you more hands.” I also have to believe that God would have given me more patience, a money tree and a faucet that spouts rum if he wanted me to have more kids. Let me be clear, I admire and envy large families. I am in awe of mothers who raise multiple children without losing them or their minds! I just don’t think our particular brand of crazy is conducive to a large family.
So why is that I couldn’t take my eyes off of the three-month old on the plane as I flew to my business meeting yesterday? He made me think back longingly to when my kids were babies. I even thought for a split second, maybe we should have one more… Then I pictured my husband as a cartoon character – his head twisting around on his neck, his eyes spinning around in his head and his arms flailing in the air (yes, my mind is bizarre). That mental image reminded me that two careers and two kids is more than we can handle already.
Why do kids seem so appealing when I am away from mine? Because they are NOT MINE! I don’t have to deal with their tantrums or chase them through the terminal. I can enjoy their smiles and turn up my i-pod when they scream. I miss my kids so much when I travel that I think I romanticize them and parenting in general. I sit on my plane rides home picturing my return to my little angels. They are immaculately clean, sitting at the table, reading books when I arrive. They get up, run to hug and kiss me and then tell me all about their days and then we frolic in the sunshine… Whoa… I think I have jet lag. My homecomings usually go more like this – my daughter rushes up to me and says, “I missed you sooo much, what did you bring me?”. My son, looks up from his Wii, says, “Hey Mom” and doesn’t rush towards me until he hears his sister getting her “working mommy guilt gift”.
Other people’s’ kids are cute because they don’t deprive me of sleep and following me into the bathroom. But my kids are cuter (my blog, my judgment call) because they tell me they love me more than chocolate, remind me to wear my seatbelt on the airplane and share their dessert with me. I don’t want more kids because I already have more than I ever could have wished for.
Me with more than 2 kids!
There’s Very Little Grass in the Working Mom Pasture
Yesterday, my witty friend Sarah shared with us 10 reasons why the grass is not greener being a Stay At Home Mom. For those who know Sarah, she is a great mom and certainly has the skills and abilities to go back to work, but she has made a commitment to her family and she’s happy with her decision… most of the time.
So now it’s my turn. Here’s my top 10 on why moms (or dads – I think you are under-represented) should not flock to the office.
- Is this your mommy? When I am out with my children, people come up and act as if my children are with a stranger. “Are you her mom?” This is why my children and I wear nametags, it helps us and those around us.
- The inevitable party follow-up question? Unlike Sarah, when I tell people I have a full-time job, they naturally ask, “Well who cares for your children?”. So I am compelled to explain – “I leave them with a pack of wolves. But I am a responsible mother, so I only leave them with female wolves, they’re more nurturing”.
- Nobody thinks you can help Because I do not care for my children, the kids, and others, assume I have no domestic or child-rearing abilities. Okay, okay, I have very few domestic abilities, but I do know how to care for my children. I can wash a disposable diaper just like a pro.
- Keeping up with the SAHM’s I have never made my own baby food, sewn a Halloween costume or chaired a school fundraiser. (I am not sure I would do those things if I were a SAHM).
- Playdates Playdates are tougher for kids with working parents. Typically playdates start because two mothers who become friends get their kids together. Mothers of the other kids have a hard time be-friending my 21-year-old gorgeous nanny. (I can’t blame them, she wears heels to drive carpool – she intimidates me too.)
- Life plus work deadlines We still have to do homework with the kids, wash soccer uniforms, bake (I mean buy) sweets for bake sales, but then I also have to manage my team at work (aka my day-time parenting job), write presentations and go on business trips. Time is my most precious resource.
- Being MIA Weeks go by where I don’t see a girlfriend, because once work is done, then I need to focus on my kids. Girl time or alone time with my husband gets pushed down the priority list. By the time I have an opening on my calendar, my friends are tired from all the fun they had without me.
- I Am Not in the Running for Anything there’s no way to win mother of the year and since I try to balance being a mom as much as I can, I am not up for employee of the year either. I might win Juggling Lunatic of the Year though, as long as they don’t deduct points for what I drop.
Yes, I owe you two more, but I have a work deadline, no clean underwear and the kids need help with homework, so let me sum up 9 and 10 with my favorite comment of all time:
“Do you think your son is having a hard time because you travel so much?” Well no, but I think he would have a hard time if I didn’t get time away!
While being a working mom is tough, so is being a stay at home mom. We each have amazing days and horrible days. We each struggle with balance, we each want to do our best. The best thing we can do as mothers (and fathers) is support each other, regardless if we get a paycheck for our hard work or not.
The Grass is Not Greener in the Stay at Home Mom Pasture
As I have lamented the last few weeks about my job, I have also started to fantasize about being a stay at home mom (SAHM). To provide balance (or to stop my whining) my friend Sarah graciously put together the following for me (and I post it with her permission – little does she know the only payment she’ll receive is a glass of wine).
10 Reasons the Grass is not Greener in the Stay at Home Mom Pasture
Help I’m sick!! When I call in sick, nobody covers for me. No matter how sick I am, kids still need to get to school; lunches still need to be made. There is no daycare to drop them off at, no nanny to speak of, just me doing the same thing I do everyday with the exception of barfing ever 20 minutes.
The inevitable party question. “What do you do?” “I’m a stay at home mom”. Responses range anywhere from the cliché “wow isn’t that great” to blank stares of confusion. Insult to injury is when the response is followed by the droll discussion of things like how expensive diapers are and The Wiggles, as if those must be the only things I am interested in. My favorite follow-up to date is still “Do you do anything else??” NOPE! Just stay home and stare at the baby.
Only Mom Can Help. When you spend your day assisting in every menial task for your children from helping brush their teeth to tying shoes 3 or 4 times, your children develop a “only mom can help me” complex. My children will walk right past their dad sitting in the kitchen, through the entryway, up a flight of stairs, and into my bedroom to ask ME to open a fruit snack package for them…?
Fun Overkill. Yes it is possible to have too much fun. My husband and I are on completely opposite “fun” schedules. By the time my husband gets home I have been on mom duty for 9+ hours. I have played 25 hands of Go Fish, read 10 books, put together 3 puzzles and even pretended to be the fairy princess locked in the tower. (ok the princess was my idea and I actually locked myself in my room to make a quick 10 minute phone call.) However, understandably, my husband wants to spend time not only with the kids, but as a family. I want a chance to be a grown-up and a wife, my husband wants time to be a dad. “Let’s play soccer” “Come on mom!”……..I’m coming.
Divorce! The D word. Hate to think about it, but it happens. My fear as a SAHM is that if this does happen I will be an average aged, average looking, minivan driving no name with a 9 year gap in my resume. I picture my first job interview going something like this “no Mrs. SAHM we stopped running DOS 2.0 about 7 years ago.”
Quantity Does Not Equal Quality. Some people assume that because I spend MORE time with my kids it is better. That is NOT the case. More time just equals more time to screw them up. There were days when I thought my kids would be better off at day interacting with other children rather than at home with me watching me pay bills and vacuum.
Tomorrow. The curse word of the SAHM. Only you know the expectation that you set for yourself. Therefore what doesn’t happen today can always happen tomorrow, and no one is the wiser. Instructions are easy..when tomorrow comes…repeat.
Blizzards/ Tornados & Other Natural Disasters. Being in your home with any number of children 24 hours a day and trying to keep the house clean is impossible. It is like shoveling snow in a blizzard. I don’t even try anymore.
Fashionista. NOT! I used to be a decent dresser. Really. As I grew tired of washing Cheetos hand prints and baby poop/spit-up off nice clothes, I retired my nice things and adopted the SAHM “uniform”: Workout clothes and tennis shoes that rarely actually make it inside a gym. You know you have lost your inner fashionista when you put on a pair of jeans and a necklace and your kids ask you “why are you so fancy mommy?”
I Am Out the Running for Mother of the Year. No awards to polish around here. No plaques to cover my walls, no raises. You can work your fanny off at your “job” as a SAHM but no one is there to pat your back. I would like to say that your child’s smile is payment enough but let’s be honest, when’s the last time a smile bought you a purse? And a promotion?? The only time my husband uses the word promotion is when he wants sex, and by “promotion” he means another baby.
There are days I start to think, gosh it would be nice to have a job, one where I got to talk to people about politics or books without pictures, or dare I say an R rated movie. Then I realize that the grass in not greener, it’s just a different shade.
Thanks Sarah for the perspective! I’ll share the color of my pasture as a working mom tomorrow.
Pay It Forward
Slightly Off-Balance 
