Misinterpreted Expectations

When I was a working mom I had these images in my head of what it would be like if I stayed home. And as the prospect of staying home started becoming more realistic those images continued, but with even more gusto.  I have to admit, one of the things I was most looking forward to (other than spending more time with my daughter) was being productive.  I was Wonder Woman in my head!  The house would stay clean more often, I would learn how to cook and have wonderful meals a few times a week, I would have children activities scheduled out in advance, I would get back to my many hobbies, I would become a Pinterest fanatic and maybe become so creative with my free time that I wouldn't even need Pinterest, cabinets and closets would get purged during Eva's nap times, my home office would get organized again, those things on my to-do list from over 2 years ago would get accomplished, the frames around the house would get filled and updated along with the baby book, I would be excited about art activities with Eva, I would work out every morning before she wakes up...AND I WOULD DO IT ALL WITH SO MUCH ENERGY!!

Three months into staying home I can tell you I have failed.  My expectations were too great.  The thoughts in my head were unknowingly a fantasy.  I do not work out before she gets up because she gets up at 5am.  I have made three nice meals (that equals one per month if you can't do the math) because my husband travels so much there's no reason to make a big meal for myself and a kid who probably won't eat it.  The house has become more dirty.  My office is still a disaster.  Frames are still empty.  I don't get excited about art activities because it equals a mess I have to clean up.  I have re-introduced myself to one hobby which is this, writing, but I often do it with a whiny child in the background or at night as my head bobs from exhaustion.  I am proud to say I have purged one cabinet.

Those who don't stay at home may ask, "So what do you do all day if none of this is getting done?"  Here is my answer.  I am following a curious child around like its shadow because all she wants to do right now is get into the things I've told her not to get into.  I am saying "no," "stop," "don't," "get down," "get off," "sit down," "stand up," "put that back," "put that away," "no ma'am," "get off the dog," "don't kick the dog," "pet nice," "go play," "pick that up," but most importantly, "I love you."  I am "making" three meals a day which equals about 3 hours because my child does not inhale food like some.  Instead she incessantly asks for cheese and anything else I give her is smeared around her tray and eaten at snail speed.  (Side note: I just had to wipe crayon off the wood floor).  Nap time is a luxury that does not last long enough.  I always have good intentions of using her nap time productively, but I usually fail at this too.  The 1-3 hours I get when she naps goes faster than any other time I've ever had 1-3 hours in my life.  I've watched or listened to Elmo's Potty Time DVD more than I can count.  I limit it to once a day both for my sanity and to feel like a good mom for not giving her too much screen time. I can only hear little kids and muppets state what they call pee and poop so much.  When Gordon (a human) is telling Elmo, Baby Bear and Curly Bear different terms we use for our waste I always smile thinking how awesome it'd be if instead of him saying "Number 1 and Number 2" he'd say "piss and shit."  The irony of using curse words on a children's program makes me giggle, if only for a moment.  I am constantly explaining why I can't take her grandparents out of pictures or characters out of books.  She insists on grabbing at these items while saying "out."  I am running errands and buying necessities.  I am reading the same books over and over.  I am saying no to cheese about 30 times a day.  I am taking her to the pool, swim lessons, library, zoo, park, botanical gardens, etc.  I am reading newsletter emails and websites that inform me of activities for kids around town, preferably cheap or free.  I am giving nightly baths and taking a shower whenever I can find time to de-grease myself - usually during nap or bedtime so I can do it in peace.  I am doing daily tasks like dishes and laundry.  I am changing diapers.  I am in the early stages of potty training which means staring at a half naked baby waiting impatiently for just one dribble to come out so I can shout Hooray!  And I am doing much of this WITH NO ENERGY AT ALL!!  She drains me from the moment I'm forced awake at 5am.  And somehow, even though I've done much of the above each day and am exhausted I can get to the end of the day and feel like I've accomplished nothing.  I'm beginning to think I was more productive at home when I worked 40 hours a week.  Something about the structure of life during that time helped me mark things off my personal list in addition to working and being a mom.  But then again I was only seeing her for 5 waking hours at the most each day.

In the Fall Eva will begin Mother's Day Out just twice a week for four hours.  I am looking forward to this.  Although I will worry about her those 8 hours of every week because I am putting her safety in the hands of someone else, I know it will benefit my sanity and her social education.  And I pray to God it benefits my productivity.  Once again I have this image in my head of ALL the things I'll accomplish in those 8 hours.  We will see.

The other day while wiping something down with Eva's baby wipe I noticed some dirt on the back of my hand.  I tried wiping it off only to discover they were two new age spots.  I guess I'm blessed with those instead of gray hairs.  I realize this all sounds like a complaint.  But for every trying experience that may last minutes or even hours, for every age spot, for every toddler tantrum, for all my failed expectations, for every ounce of energy that is stolen from me there is a smile that melts my heart, a run-at-me-fast smooshy hug, a hand that wants to hold mine and a sleepy face that wants to drift off to sleep looking at me.  And I somehow find myself wanting another.  I guess everything else will have to wait.

Watching Elmo's Potty Time.  Yes, I realize her pants are on inside out.  At least the tag was in the back.

I kept up on this really well until month 11.  It's been almost a year since month 11.

The mess that ensues every day.  You can see that it even makes Eva overwhelmed.

Happy at Aldridge Gardens

The Death Bed Method

As I've become older, wiser, more confident and less self-conscious, my views and opinions of myself have gradually changed.  We all have things we like and dislike about ourselves (both internally and externally).  If we have the right attitude some of the things we didn't like about ourselves at one time are things we learn to love, or at least accept.  I had a major mental switch before I started high school.  I attribute this to a list I made at the beginning of summer after I graduated middle school.  Up through 8th grade I was always very shy and self-conscious, always worried about everything.  And when anything happened it felt ten times worse because I had already been worrying.  It was a no fun way to live and I didn't want to start high school the same way, so I made a list with things such as:
1. Smile a lot
2. Wear what I want
3. Get involved
4. Compliment people more
5. Stop worrying about what might happen

I wish I still had this list.  I think it had around 20 items.  Once this list was made I made sure to read it every day that summer.  The more I read it the more I believed it and the more I actually did the things on that list.  To this day I believe doing this self-made assignment is the reason my high school days and college days were so fun and memorable.  I would totally relive those 8 1/2 years of my life if I could.  I also feel it carried through into my adult life.  Although becoming an adult via real jobs, layoffs, marriage woes, toddler tantrums, increasing a few pant sizes & paying bills has maybe tainted a level of that positive attitude, I still feel that list was a positive reinforcement that changed the course of my life.  I no longer have that original list, however I still use a similar strategy; it just no longer involves pulling out a sheet of paper every day to read.  My adult version of that list is now what I call the Death Bed Method.  It goes something like this in my head:

Trying on bikinis for an upcoming vacation sans child: "This accents my muffin top.  I don't know if I should be wearing this anymore.  My boobs look good in it but my stomach doesn't.  Will my hips ever go back to their pre-birth size?  Probably not.  Will this matter on my death bed?  No.  Buy it."

Or this:
"Ever since I became a stay-at-home-mom I rarely look presentable.  I wear workout clothes all day (even though I haven't worked out), have my hair in a ponytail and neglect putting on make-up.  And I actually leave the house most days looking like this.  Do other people I pass in the stores who I'll never see again really care?  Maybe.  Will it matter on my death bed?  No.  Keep doing it cause it saves time."

When I'm on my death bed surely no one will be saying "If only she wore make-up more often while mothering her kids" or "Do you remember that picture she posted 51 years ago on Facebook in that bikini?  Yikes!"

So the next time you're questioning yourself just ask "will this matter on my death bed?"  If the answer is no then the answer to your issue isn't that big of a deal and shouldn't take that long to make.  Instead, spend your time on the issues that answer the question with a yes.

The Writing Re-Start

Four years ago on May 18, 2010 I opened up a blogging account, mostly to give my mom details of a Hawaii vacation we took.  I figured if I was going to be typing up that much info and sending that many pictures I'd go ahead and make it public and if anyone wanted to read it, they could.  The blogging continued for a year after the vacation, but eventually I got pregnant and I saw all my hobbies fade away.  Free time turned into reading 'what's happening to my body' books, weekly trips to the baby stores where I aimlessly wandered around never before realizing how one item comes in 10 different types in 50 colors from 5 different companies, complaining how my hips were no longer attached to my body, loads upon loads of baby laundry, creating a calendar to sort out my doctor appointments/baby showers/registering/professional photos/thank you notes/baby name lists/pediatrician lists/daycare lists, complaining how my hips were no longer attached to my body, nesting, resting, watching Joe build things, eating whatever I wanted and complaining how my hips were no longer attached to my body.  Then the baby came and even more free time went out the door.  You get the picture.  Long story short - one of the many hobbies I stopped doing was blogging.

I've always enjoyed writing.  As a child I was really into poetry. I have a whole book of poems hiding somewhere.  One stormy night, maybe in middle school, I got on my parents computer and wrote a horror story that to this day makes me wonder how I didn't turn into a serial killer.  I was morbid and probably shouldn't have even had those thoughts in my head at that age.  I recently went through an old box at my parents house of high school papers I wrote and found some really well-written reports as well as funny group projects I had no recollection of writing.  In college I was a TV Production major, writing scripts and commercials.  I was also a package producer on a student-run late night talk show where I wrote comedy skits.

Somewhere along the way I stopped writing.  And I miss it.  So I'm hoping this is my re-start.  I hope to improve upon my rusty writing skills.  I hope to entertain.  I hope to mix up the topics.  I hope to evoke emotion.  And I hope to become famous.  Just kidding.  I don't like attention.  That's why I write.  I'm a behind-the-scenes kind of girl.