There's too much to do right now.
There's parenting.
There's work.
There's the extra work of a freelance job.
There's figuring out what to eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
There's packing for a weekend at the coast.
There's communicating with the landlord about house stuff.
There's remembering to order milk from the dairy.
There's nearly being overdrawn in the checking account.
There's keeping in touch with friends.
There's cleaning up toys, doing dishes, not letting the house go to hell in a handbasket.
There's laundry.
There's worrying about various and sundry things.
There's grocery shopping.
There's going for a run.
There's planning ahead for the preschool Celebration of Love and Friendship.
There's guilt about all the things that aren't being done.
There's paying bills. Oh, right, the checking account. Sigh.
There's an occasional glass of wine + TV show.
There's showering.
There's managing the endless ebb and flow of stuff in the house.
There's grieving.
There's trying to take care of myself, mentally and physically.
There's negotiating.
There's being responsible.
There's going to bed too late.
There's trying to be OK with not doing it all.
There's a constant reassessment of what is critical.
There's a continued realization that even what's critical isn't always getting done.
There's stress.
There's coffee.
There's getting upset about stupid stuff.
There's trying to do better next time.
There's gratitude.
There's giving in.
There's letting go.
There's serenity.
Sometimes, there's serenity.
28 January 2010
25 January 2010
I Had no Idea
When John and I were married, it drove me crazy that he would leave cabinets and drawers standing open. These days, I feel like I spend a statistically significant amount of time turning off the lights that Maddie and Riley leave on in every room they exit; when John was alive, that time was spent closing dresser drawers and kitchen cabinets.
I never really lived alone until John died. I always had roommates, and even though I still have roommates now, living with children is different than living with adults. I have come to realize over time that some of the habits I had ascribed to John are actually my habits. My entire adult life, I'd attributed some of my personal annoying behaviors to whoever I was living with at the time, most recently my husband.
All of this is a long way of saying that it's actually me who leaves open the cabinets and drawers. My dresser drawers are basically never fully shut or my kitchen cabinets quite all the way closed. The medicine chest is frequently standing wide open. The contents of hall closets are visible to all and sundry who drop by. Now that I'm aware that I do this, I've been working on getting better about it since it's not just unsightly, it's also downright dangerous. Open drawers, for example, catch my hips and the toddlers' heads with alarming frequency. It's a long, slow process, though, to change what must be a lifetime habit. Every night before bed, I pause to close things that are open, wondering if there were habits of John's that he attributed to me, wondering how I can at times be so quick to blame myself for things that are completely not my fault and yet at other times completely fail to recognize my responsibility for such simple actions.
***********************
I went on a date on Saturday night.
It was all rather sudden. A friend asked me if I was interested in being set up, and I said sure, and some e-mails were exchanged and there I was, walking into a restaurant on NW 23rd, hoping that the guy actually looked like the picture he'd sent me. He did.
I think I'm one of the only people in the world who enjoys blind dates. I'm very social, I love to talk, and I've done my fair share of interesting things in my life. I like getting to know people and enjoy celebrating commonalities and learning about interests that I might not share. There is that whole "I'm being judged" part, which I suppose is a bit unsettling, but the way I figure it, anyone willing to go out with an almost 40-year-old widowed mother of toddler twins is either pretty open-minded, desperate, or crazy. I find there's something a little thrilling about a first date, the promise of something great.
My open-mindedness about being set up likely stems at least somewhat from the fact that John and I met on a semi-blind date. We had mutual friends, and we'd met in passing a few times before we went out on an official dinner date. It was the best date I'd ever been on. On some level, I think he and I both knew that we'd get married by the end of that first evening. We pretty much moved in together after our second date and were officially sharing an apartment three months after our first outing. Love at first sight, no. But we shared an undeniable connection almost immediately.
That experience leaves me with high standards for dates. Which leaves me feeling a little confused about my experience on Saturday night. I had fun. Mr. Marathon (he has run marathons in 2:30!) was interesting, smart, gentlemanly. We had plenty to talk about. We met for dinner and there was basically no pause in the conversation from 7:00 to 9:30. He walked me to my car, which I found oddly charming. All told, it was a very nice evening. But it all felt a little . . . flat. It felt friendly, not romantic.
We left things rather open at the end. The conversation went something like, "Hey! I had fun! Yeah, me too! Thanks!" [awkward hug] I've not heard from him, nor have I written. Perhaps he felt the same as me. I can't decide if I should e-mail him or not, and he hasn't e-mailed me. Perhaps it will just fizzle. Perhaps there needs to be more than good conversation and some friends in common.
I just don't know if I should leave this door open, or close it. Or maybe he closed it already? Feh, I miss being married to John.
I never really lived alone until John died. I always had roommates, and even though I still have roommates now, living with children is different than living with adults. I have come to realize over time that some of the habits I had ascribed to John are actually my habits. My entire adult life, I'd attributed some of my personal annoying behaviors to whoever I was living with at the time, most recently my husband.
All of this is a long way of saying that it's actually me who leaves open the cabinets and drawers. My dresser drawers are basically never fully shut or my kitchen cabinets quite all the way closed. The medicine chest is frequently standing wide open. The contents of hall closets are visible to all and sundry who drop by. Now that I'm aware that I do this, I've been working on getting better about it since it's not just unsightly, it's also downright dangerous. Open drawers, for example, catch my hips and the toddlers' heads with alarming frequency. It's a long, slow process, though, to change what must be a lifetime habit. Every night before bed, I pause to close things that are open, wondering if there were habits of John's that he attributed to me, wondering how I can at times be so quick to blame myself for things that are completely not my fault and yet at other times completely fail to recognize my responsibility for such simple actions.
***********************
I went on a date on Saturday night.
It was all rather sudden. A friend asked me if I was interested in being set up, and I said sure, and some e-mails were exchanged and there I was, walking into a restaurant on NW 23rd, hoping that the guy actually looked like the picture he'd sent me. He did.
I think I'm one of the only people in the world who enjoys blind dates. I'm very social, I love to talk, and I've done my fair share of interesting things in my life. I like getting to know people and enjoy celebrating commonalities and learning about interests that I might not share. There is that whole "I'm being judged" part, which I suppose is a bit unsettling, but the way I figure it, anyone willing to go out with an almost 40-year-old widowed mother of toddler twins is either pretty open-minded, desperate, or crazy. I find there's something a little thrilling about a first date, the promise of something great.
My open-mindedness about being set up likely stems at least somewhat from the fact that John and I met on a semi-blind date. We had mutual friends, and we'd met in passing a few times before we went out on an official dinner date. It was the best date I'd ever been on. On some level, I think he and I both knew that we'd get married by the end of that first evening. We pretty much moved in together after our second date and were officially sharing an apartment three months after our first outing. Love at first sight, no. But we shared an undeniable connection almost immediately.
That experience leaves me with high standards for dates. Which leaves me feeling a little confused about my experience on Saturday night. I had fun. Mr. Marathon (he has run marathons in 2:30!) was interesting, smart, gentlemanly. We had plenty to talk about. We met for dinner and there was basically no pause in the conversation from 7:00 to 9:30. He walked me to my car, which I found oddly charming. All told, it was a very nice evening. But it all felt a little . . . flat. It felt friendly, not romantic.
We left things rather open at the end. The conversation went something like, "Hey! I had fun! Yeah, me too! Thanks!" [awkward hug] I've not heard from him, nor have I written. Perhaps he felt the same as me. I can't decide if I should e-mail him or not, and he hasn't e-mailed me. Perhaps it will just fizzle. Perhaps there needs to be more than good conversation and some friends in common.
I just don't know if I should leave this door open, or close it. Or maybe he closed it already? Feh, I miss being married to John.
19 January 2010
Away; Back Again
I was away for a few days. My grandmother, Mama Doris, died. It was not unexpected. She was 90, and her health had been steadily failing since last summer. She spent the last few weeks of 2009 expressing her readiness to die.
She was a strong, difficult woman. I had a good relationship with her, mostly because I had a life that she considered successful and, due to geographic distance, she didn't witness my myriad daily screwups. She had high standards for everyone, herself included. She had a way of turning a compliment into a criticism, and a personality that brought out any inkling of perfectionism in anyone who encountered her. She and my grandfather were married for 66 years, until he died almost exactly two years ago. I don't think I've ever known a happier married couple.
I went to her memorial with my father (Mama Doris was his mother), my mother, and my stepfather. My mom and my grandmother remained close even after my parents divorced, and Mama Doris was always warm and welcoming to my stepdad, too. The memorial was held in Southwest City, Missouri, the town where she and my grandfather had lived and raised their four boys, and near where much of my father's extended family still lives. My two uncles, six cousins, and all the spouses were there, and it was fun to catch up, tell stories about Mama Doris, and enjoy each others' company. I suppose that for some families, the presence of my mom and stepdad might have been awkward or unusual, but it was all OK for all of us. In some ways, my extended family is pretty open-minded. If I've never mentioned this before, now would be the time to say that when my mom married my stepdad, my father is the one who walked her down the aisle and gave her away. Yes, you read that correctly.
I've put off writing about Mama Doris's death and the trip to the midwest, mostly because it's sad when people die and latley I don't feel like writing about sad stuff. For the most part, I've felt pretty happy these days. As I have alluded to in recent posts, the arrival of 2010 has felt like a fresh start in a way that the new year usually does not for me, and I find myself rejuvinated and refreshed. Sure, some days are not so good. I can still be impatient. The other night, I yelled at Maddie for something silly then yelled at Riley for good measure. The cleanup that needs to get done from December's burst pipe is still not complete. My grandmother died. Annoying, sad, life-changing things continue to happen. But the underlying feeling is one of optimism, and I had felt hesitatnt to burst that bubble with a big, heavy post about Death.
To lighten the mood, here are a couple of amusing anecdotes from my trip to the middle of the United States:
It's good to be back. I'm wearing one of Mama Doris's signature costume jewelry necklaces today. I miss her.
She was a strong, difficult woman. I had a good relationship with her, mostly because I had a life that she considered successful and, due to geographic distance, she didn't witness my myriad daily screwups. She had high standards for everyone, herself included. She had a way of turning a compliment into a criticism, and a personality that brought out any inkling of perfectionism in anyone who encountered her. She and my grandfather were married for 66 years, until he died almost exactly two years ago. I don't think I've ever known a happier married couple.
I went to her memorial with my father (Mama Doris was his mother), my mother, and my stepfather. My mom and my grandmother remained close even after my parents divorced, and Mama Doris was always warm and welcoming to my stepdad, too. The memorial was held in Southwest City, Missouri, the town where she and my grandfather had lived and raised their four boys, and near where much of my father's extended family still lives. My two uncles, six cousins, and all the spouses were there, and it was fun to catch up, tell stories about Mama Doris, and enjoy each others' company. I suppose that for some families, the presence of my mom and stepdad might have been awkward or unusual, but it was all OK for all of us. In some ways, my extended family is pretty open-minded. If I've never mentioned this before, now would be the time to say that when my mom married my stepdad, my father is the one who walked her down the aisle and gave her away. Yes, you read that correctly.
I've put off writing about Mama Doris's death and the trip to the midwest, mostly because it's sad when people die and latley I don't feel like writing about sad stuff. For the most part, I've felt pretty happy these days. As I have alluded to in recent posts, the arrival of 2010 has felt like a fresh start in a way that the new year usually does not for me, and I find myself rejuvinated and refreshed. Sure, some days are not so good. I can still be impatient. The other night, I yelled at Maddie for something silly then yelled at Riley for good measure. The cleanup that needs to get done from December's burst pipe is still not complete. My grandmother died. Annoying, sad, life-changing things continue to happen. But the underlying feeling is one of optimism, and I had felt hesitatnt to burst that bubble with a big, heavy post about Death.
To lighten the mood, here are a couple of amusing anecdotes from my trip to the middle of the United States:
- Our hotel was across the street from a gas station/convenience store called Kum & Go. I bought a travel mug out of amusement/disgust.
- The first night there, we ate at a restaurant called the Rib Crib. It was about three blocks from our hotel. My uncle suggested that not only should we drive, but we should take two cars in case he needed to leave earlier than the rest of us. We convinced him that we could all walk.
It's good to be back. I'm wearing one of Mama Doris's signature costume jewelry necklaces today. I miss her.
13 January 2010
Realization
Things always do get better. Sometimes it takes a long time to see the improvement, other times it's more immediate. But eventually things improve, and today, for that, I am grateful.
11 January 2010
It's so hard to be a part of the bourgeoisie.
My mom and stepdad gave me a fan-freaking-tastic birthday gift, which is six months' worth of every-other-week housekeeping. While I normally have a major aversion to taking care of life logistics, I'd managed to line up someone for that job within 48 hours of receiving the card. I'm more than willing to deal with the logistical "hassle" of having a clean house.
Susie started today. She came last week to check the house out and figure out a schedule, and she showed up today right on time. Maddie and Riley already adore her, and when she rang the doorbell they yelled, "SUSIE!" and ran to get their brooms and mops to "help" her. Maddie had also written her a little note (?) to take home. Um, that's sweet, although none of us could tell what it was that the note said. Even Maddie seemed a little unclear about it. But hey, that's fine, the point is that we are all thrilled about Susie's arrival in our lives.
I showed her where to find the things she needed, then the kids and I headed off for preschool dropoff (swoon) and work (feh). Around 10:45 a.m., my cell phone rang. It was Susie. "Stacey," she said, "I'm locked into your house!"
OOPS. Bourgeoise employeer fail of epic magnitude!
See, our house has the kind of locks that are a deadbolt inside and out; you need a key to unlock the door from the outside or the inside if it's locked up. I'd given Susie a key to the house when she'd come for her initial visit, and she'd brought the key back with her today, but she'd left it in the car. When I left with the kids after Susie arrived, I locked the door behind us figuring she'd feel more secure with it latched, but I didn't think to ask if she had her key on her.
Luckily, the timing of her call was prefect as I'd just come out of a meeting, so I told her to make a cup of tea and relax while I dashed home to set her free. I'm just so glad there was no emergency in the house while she was there; I mean, I suppose in a real emergency, she could have gone out a window, but still.
No denying that it's Monday today, eh?
Susie started today. She came last week to check the house out and figure out a schedule, and she showed up today right on time. Maddie and Riley already adore her, and when she rang the doorbell they yelled, "SUSIE!" and ran to get their brooms and mops to "help" her. Maddie had also written her a little note (?) to take home. Um, that's sweet, although none of us could tell what it was that the note said. Even Maddie seemed a little unclear about it. But hey, that's fine, the point is that we are all thrilled about Susie's arrival in our lives.
I showed her where to find the things she needed, then the kids and I headed off for preschool dropoff (swoon) and work (feh). Around 10:45 a.m., my cell phone rang. It was Susie. "Stacey," she said, "I'm locked into your house!"
OOPS. Bourgeoise employeer fail of epic magnitude!
See, our house has the kind of locks that are a deadbolt inside and out; you need a key to unlock the door from the outside or the inside if it's locked up. I'd given Susie a key to the house when she'd come for her initial visit, and she'd brought the key back with her today, but she'd left it in the car. When I left with the kids after Susie arrived, I locked the door behind us figuring she'd feel more secure with it latched, but I didn't think to ask if she had her key on her.
Luckily, the timing of her call was prefect as I'd just come out of a meeting, so I told her to make a cup of tea and relax while I dashed home to set her free. I'm just so glad there was no emergency in the house while she was there; I mean, I suppose in a real emergency, she could have gone out a window, but still.
No denying that it's Monday today, eh?
08 January 2010
Awwww
Our preschool sends home daily reports on what the kids did, what they ate, etc. The three teachers take turns filling them out for the different classes.
Today, Señor M. filled our Maddie and Riley's reports.
In light of my previous post, I was happy that his comment on Maddie was, "We are making progress in our relationship." Yay!
And it warmed my heart to read what he wrote about Riley: "A really lovely and caring friend."
So sweet!
Today, Señor M. filled our Maddie and Riley's reports.
In light of my previous post, I was happy that his comment on Maddie was, "We are making progress in our relationship." Yay!
And it warmed my heart to read what he wrote about Riley: "A really lovely and caring friend."
So sweet!
Improvement
We had a great evening last night, consisting of a Snickollet Random Dinner* followed by a bath for Riley and a shower for Maddie** followed by an episode of Dora followed by a chapter of Ramona*** followed by the kids chatting for over an hour**** before they fell asleep.
We also had a great morning this morning. I did get the kids (and myself) up 15 minutes earlier than normal, which seemed to help, although it's hard to say given that it was one of those glitch-free mornings that would have been fine without the padding. I'll try again Monday, though, and see how things go. I know that I certainly felt much better knowing that if, at any point along the way things got derailed, we had extra time to get things back on schedule.
People who follow me on Facebook know that I have been extra motivated to get myself out the door in the morning this week because Maddie and Riley have a new teacher at preschool and he is really cute. I feel like some suburban mom stereotype humming "Hot for Teacher" as I waltz into school every morning, but there you have it.
Riley shares my enthusiasm for his new instructor; Riley is generally a warm, outgoing kid, and he's particularly drawn to adult men. It's touching and sweet and sad to see how he craves that attention from adult males. I believe—I have to believe!—that kids can grow up without a father figure present in their lives on a daily basis and be perfectly OK. But when I see how Riley responds to people who fit the "dad" model, I realize that there are things that a father would bring to the kids' lives that are different than what I can offer. Sigh. Reason 1,274,547 to miss John.
Maddie's reaction to Señor M. has been quite different from Riley's. From the very first meeting, she has given him the cold shoulder. Make that the glacial shoulder. If he talks to her, she walks away. He complimented her scarf yesterday and her only reply was a defiant "Mine!" The lead teacher told me that she was that way all day, either ignorning him or being blatantly rude despite his repeated, calm efforts to win her over.
Maddie is intensely social, and she likes to be liked. She's usually quite warm and sweet with new people, so initially I was surprised by Maddie's reaction to Señor M. and by the director's details regarding Maddie's behavior. Then I thought about it some more, and I was hard-pressed to come up with any adult males outside of family to whom Maddie has been immediately friendly and open. I can think of plenty of women with whom she's been quite friendly from the get-go, but few, if any, men.
I have no idea if this relates to Maddie having lost her father so early in her life or not. And it doesn't strike me as a terrible thing; there's nothing wrong with being a little skeptical of strangers, although being outright rude to a teacher is not a behavior I want to encourage. Maddie is wise beyond her years in terms of her emotions. While I don't know exactly what is at work with her right now, I do know I need to be patient with her as she works through it. Luckily, Señor M. knows this, too.
If she's this intense at three, what will she be like when she's thirteen? Oy.
*Tofu hot dog +broccoli + hummus to dip broccoli in + rice for Riley; crab and cheese quiche + broccoli + ranch dip for me and Maddie.
**Our awesome bathroom has a separate bath and shower so the kids can do their own thing if they want.
***We've started reading chapter books! It's great. I love it, they love it, we all love it. We've read Beezus and Ramona and last night we started Ramona the Pest. So far, everyone's favorite chapter is the last one in Beezus and Ramona when Ramona puts her doll, Bendix, in Beezus's bithday cake. "Bendix in a cake!" we keep shouting to each other, and cracking up.
****I think it's time to give up the nap, or at least move in that direction. They are taking forever to go to sleep at night and are waking up really early, even by their standards.
We also had a great morning this morning. I did get the kids (and myself) up 15 minutes earlier than normal, which seemed to help, although it's hard to say given that it was one of those glitch-free mornings that would have been fine without the padding. I'll try again Monday, though, and see how things go. I know that I certainly felt much better knowing that if, at any point along the way things got derailed, we had extra time to get things back on schedule.
People who follow me on Facebook know that I have been extra motivated to get myself out the door in the morning this week because Maddie and Riley have a new teacher at preschool and he is really cute. I feel like some suburban mom stereotype humming "Hot for Teacher" as I waltz into school every morning, but there you have it.
Riley shares my enthusiasm for his new instructor; Riley is generally a warm, outgoing kid, and he's particularly drawn to adult men. It's touching and sweet and sad to see how he craves that attention from adult males. I believe—I have to believe!—that kids can grow up without a father figure present in their lives on a daily basis and be perfectly OK. But when I see how Riley responds to people who fit the "dad" model, I realize that there are things that a father would bring to the kids' lives that are different than what I can offer. Sigh. Reason 1,274,547 to miss John.
Maddie's reaction to Señor M. has been quite different from Riley's. From the very first meeting, she has given him the cold shoulder. Make that the glacial shoulder. If he talks to her, she walks away. He complimented her scarf yesterday and her only reply was a defiant "Mine!" The lead teacher told me that she was that way all day, either ignorning him or being blatantly rude despite his repeated, calm efforts to win her over.
Maddie is intensely social, and she likes to be liked. She's usually quite warm and sweet with new people, so initially I was surprised by Maddie's reaction to Señor M. and by the director's details regarding Maddie's behavior. Then I thought about it some more, and I was hard-pressed to come up with any adult males outside of family to whom Maddie has been immediately friendly and open. I can think of plenty of women with whom she's been quite friendly from the get-go, but few, if any, men.
I have no idea if this relates to Maddie having lost her father so early in her life or not. And it doesn't strike me as a terrible thing; there's nothing wrong with being a little skeptical of strangers, although being outright rude to a teacher is not a behavior I want to encourage. Maddie is wise beyond her years in terms of her emotions. While I don't know exactly what is at work with her right now, I do know I need to be patient with her as she works through it. Luckily, Señor M. knows this, too.
If she's this intense at three, what will she be like when she's thirteen? Oy.
*Tofu hot dog +broccoli + hummus to dip broccoli in + rice for Riley; crab and cheese quiche + broccoli + ranch dip for me and Maddie.
**Our awesome bathroom has a separate bath and shower so the kids can do their own thing if they want.
***We've started reading chapter books! It's great. I love it, they love it, we all love it. We've read Beezus and Ramona and last night we started Ramona the Pest. So far, everyone's favorite chapter is the last one in Beezus and Ramona when Ramona puts her doll, Bendix, in Beezus's bithday cake. "Bendix in a cake!" we keep shouting to each other, and cracking up.
****I think it's time to give up the nap, or at least move in that direction. They are taking forever to go to sleep at night and are waking up really early, even by their standards.
07 January 2010
Tomorrow is Another Day
I yelled this morning, for really stupid reasons. I yelled loud and then I stormed into the kitchen and banged one of the kids' plastic Dora bowls so hard on our kitchen island that it broke.
I haven't posted about parenting issues for a while because, for the most part, all has been pretty quiet on the parenting front. There are a lot of reasons for this—two big ones being greater maturity on Maddie and Riley's part and greater general happiness on my part. It's been a nice change.
This morning, though, brought up a lot of unpleasant memories for me, taking me back to times not too long ago, times with more yelling from me and more irrationality from everyone. Nothing ever warrants the kind of behavior I exhibited this morning, and, frankly, what got me upset this morning was nothing more than typical three-year-old behavior, the kind that is frustrating and annoying, yes, but also part and parcel of this age. Quite simply, Maddie and Riley were more interested in putting stickers all over themselves and dancing around than they were in getting dressed and having breakfast, and they would not settle down, listen to what I was saying, and get on with the routine of the morning.
Nothing usual, nothing to get that upset about. There are days when our morning routine goes off without a hitch (rare), days when we get out the door more or less on time but not without some difficulty (the norm), and days like today where, for reasons I can't pinpoint, I just don't have the reserves to get us through the morning without blowing my top. On a normal day, Maddie and Riley do the kind of thing that got me upset today, but I manage not to get upset about it. Today—why today?—I just couldn't deal.
Morning routines are stressful for most of us, with kids or without. Having to be somewhere at a specific time in the morning is not easy. Every minute counts. I have a habit of getting the kids out of bed a few minutes later than is really wise, and I need to be better about that for all of our sakes. Having a bit of a time buffer will help me for sure.
I am not big on new year's resolutions, but one goal I do want to work towards is more calm, more compassion, and more kindness. When I have mornings like we did today, I feel awful, and the kids don't feel great, either. I know the usual techniques of stepping away, counting to ten, giving myself a break or a time out, and the like. What I'm wondering is if I'm alone in the swiftness with which my anger arrives. I will honestly feel fine fine fine, then suddenly, I'm yelling without the awareness or time to get myself out of the room to count to ten and cool my jets. If I don't even feel it coming, how can I manage it? How do I know when it's going to be one of those days when it's too much for me to take?
I haven't posted about parenting issues for a while because, for the most part, all has been pretty quiet on the parenting front. There are a lot of reasons for this—two big ones being greater maturity on Maddie and Riley's part and greater general happiness on my part. It's been a nice change.
This morning, though, brought up a lot of unpleasant memories for me, taking me back to times not too long ago, times with more yelling from me and more irrationality from everyone. Nothing ever warrants the kind of behavior I exhibited this morning, and, frankly, what got me upset this morning was nothing more than typical three-year-old behavior, the kind that is frustrating and annoying, yes, but also part and parcel of this age. Quite simply, Maddie and Riley were more interested in putting stickers all over themselves and dancing around than they were in getting dressed and having breakfast, and they would not settle down, listen to what I was saying, and get on with the routine of the morning.
Nothing usual, nothing to get that upset about. There are days when our morning routine goes off without a hitch (rare), days when we get out the door more or less on time but not without some difficulty (the norm), and days like today where, for reasons I can't pinpoint, I just don't have the reserves to get us through the morning without blowing my top. On a normal day, Maddie and Riley do the kind of thing that got me upset today, but I manage not to get upset about it. Today—why today?—I just couldn't deal.
Morning routines are stressful for most of us, with kids or without. Having to be somewhere at a specific time in the morning is not easy. Every minute counts. I have a habit of getting the kids out of bed a few minutes later than is really wise, and I need to be better about that for all of our sakes. Having a bit of a time buffer will help me for sure.
I am not big on new year's resolutions, but one goal I do want to work towards is more calm, more compassion, and more kindness. When I have mornings like we did today, I feel awful, and the kids don't feel great, either. I know the usual techniques of stepping away, counting to ten, giving myself a break or a time out, and the like. What I'm wondering is if I'm alone in the swiftness with which my anger arrives. I will honestly feel fine fine fine, then suddenly, I'm yelling without the awareness or time to get myself out of the room to count to ten and cool my jets. If I don't even feel it coming, how can I manage it? How do I know when it's going to be one of those days when it's too much for me to take?
04 January 2010
What to Wear, What to Say
I. Clothing
Since becoming a parent, getting dressed is an exercise in choosing a pair of pants and a shirt or sweater that "go together." I can't quite define what I mean by "go together," but it has something to do with the colors not clashing and the general look being somewhat similar. Sometimes I mix it up by wearing a skirt instead of pants. As for shoes, it's usually Dansko clogs. I have red ones. And black ones. And Mary Jane style ones, also black. I even have Dansko boots! Yes, black.
I've never been what one might call fashion-forward, but something about the all-consuming nature of parenthood has taken me off the fashion grid completely. I've talked to other parents who feel the same way. Caught up in the daily grind of work and family, shopping for myself seems both indulgent and, for the most part, uninteresting. I have amassed a utilitarian wardrobe that is nice enough for work and can get me through the weekend in comfort and without looking like a total slob.
Most of the time, I'm fine with this state of affairs. But there are times when I'll see someone wearing an outfit that is so perfectly suited to him or her, something that catches the eye but not in a flashy way, in a comfortable and confident way, and I can remember that it was once fun to find clothing that I liked and that suited me. I get the urge to go out and do a little shopping, to try a few things on, to allow myself a bit of indulgence.
I'm not so much of a martyr that I don't think I deserve such a luxury. But the thing is that I don't even know where to begin. I have no idea what the almost-forty set wears, what's "in" right now. Frankly, I don't actually care what's in, or what other people my age are wearing. It's mostly that I don't know what I like anymore, and if I did know, I wouldn't know where to get it. But I did get a Nordstrom gift card for Christmas, so maybe that's where I should start.
II. Makeup
About four months after the twins were born, I looked in the mirror one morning and thought to myself: You look old, and tired. My body did not feel like my own, my clothes didn't fit, and I felt frumpy and unattractive.
My sister-in-law came to my rescue. She is beautiful, and knows how to make the most of her natural good looks. Her style can vary from subtle to dramatic, but it's certainly never trashy or overdone. I asked her to go with me to the mall to pick out some makeup that would be easy to apply and just keep me from looking uneven and exhausted and aging. I think I even blogged about this event at the time, although I am too lazy to go back and look. In any case, she came up with a great regimen for me, something that only took five minutes to put together but made me feel a million times better.
Three years later, guess what? I'm all out of that makeup! Have been for a while! Have I replaced it? No. Have I missed it? As the twins have gotten older and I've reclaimed my body and gotten more sleep, I've generally felt less like I need or want that kind of enhancement. I still have some decent lipstick and mascara, so when the situation warrants it, I can come up with a little something more than nothing. But not much more than nothing.
III. Flirting
I bought myself some new running shoes yesterday. For the first time ever, I went to a real running shoe store, where they have you jog on a treadmill and analyze your gait and give you recommendations on shoes and then $100 later you are ready to burn up the road.
The guy who helped me was knowledgeable and friendly. He brought out a bunch of shoes for me and asked if I ever ran any races. I asked if he could recommend some good ones for springtime. We talked about the east coast (he was an upstate New York transplant) and the Red Sox. I chose my shoes and paid.
On the way out to the car, my coworker, who had been with me for the whole transaction, said, "Was he flirting with you?"
"I don't know! Was he? I would have no idea."
"I think he was."
"How do you know? How should I know? I always think people are just making conversation."
"I think he was flirting."
Then we went to a frozen yogurt shop were the slimy guy at the counter definitely flirted with me, in a way that was obvious even to me and was not pleasant. When we left the store, I said to my coworker, "Now that guy was flirting with me, but that's yucky." She agreed.
IV. Conclusion
I don't know how to dress myself. I need new makeup. I have no idea what artful, grown-up flirting looks like.
But what I find is that lately, after months of wanting to do nothing but get myself home, enjoy some time with the kids, and watch TV in my fleece pajamas, I feel subtly and not-so-subtly pulled outward. I'm more interested in what I wear and how I look, more interested in the interactions I have with people. I'm intrigued by figuring out what I might like to wear beyond the pants on the top of the stack and the shirt hanging in the front of the closet. I am interested in working on the art of conversation.
It's still decidedly winter, but it feels like spring.
Since becoming a parent, getting dressed is an exercise in choosing a pair of pants and a shirt or sweater that "go together." I can't quite define what I mean by "go together," but it has something to do with the colors not clashing and the general look being somewhat similar. Sometimes I mix it up by wearing a skirt instead of pants. As for shoes, it's usually Dansko clogs. I have red ones. And black ones. And Mary Jane style ones, also black. I even have Dansko boots! Yes, black.
I've never been what one might call fashion-forward, but something about the all-consuming nature of parenthood has taken me off the fashion grid completely. I've talked to other parents who feel the same way. Caught up in the daily grind of work and family, shopping for myself seems both indulgent and, for the most part, uninteresting. I have amassed a utilitarian wardrobe that is nice enough for work and can get me through the weekend in comfort and without looking like a total slob.
Most of the time, I'm fine with this state of affairs. But there are times when I'll see someone wearing an outfit that is so perfectly suited to him or her, something that catches the eye but not in a flashy way, in a comfortable and confident way, and I can remember that it was once fun to find clothing that I liked and that suited me. I get the urge to go out and do a little shopping, to try a few things on, to allow myself a bit of indulgence.
I'm not so much of a martyr that I don't think I deserve such a luxury. But the thing is that I don't even know where to begin. I have no idea what the almost-forty set wears, what's "in" right now. Frankly, I don't actually care what's in, or what other people my age are wearing. It's mostly that I don't know what I like anymore, and if I did know, I wouldn't know where to get it. But I did get a Nordstrom gift card for Christmas, so maybe that's where I should start.
II. Makeup
About four months after the twins were born, I looked in the mirror one morning and thought to myself: You look old, and tired. My body did not feel like my own, my clothes didn't fit, and I felt frumpy and unattractive.
My sister-in-law came to my rescue. She is beautiful, and knows how to make the most of her natural good looks. Her style can vary from subtle to dramatic, but it's certainly never trashy or overdone. I asked her to go with me to the mall to pick out some makeup that would be easy to apply and just keep me from looking uneven and exhausted and aging. I think I even blogged about this event at the time, although I am too lazy to go back and look. In any case, she came up with a great regimen for me, something that only took five minutes to put together but made me feel a million times better.
Three years later, guess what? I'm all out of that makeup! Have been for a while! Have I replaced it? No. Have I missed it? As the twins have gotten older and I've reclaimed my body and gotten more sleep, I've generally felt less like I need or want that kind of enhancement. I still have some decent lipstick and mascara, so when the situation warrants it, I can come up with a little something more than nothing. But not much more than nothing.
III. Flirting
I bought myself some new running shoes yesterday. For the first time ever, I went to a real running shoe store, where they have you jog on a treadmill and analyze your gait and give you recommendations on shoes and then $100 later you are ready to burn up the road.
The guy who helped me was knowledgeable and friendly. He brought out a bunch of shoes for me and asked if I ever ran any races. I asked if he could recommend some good ones for springtime. We talked about the east coast (he was an upstate New York transplant) and the Red Sox. I chose my shoes and paid.
On the way out to the car, my coworker, who had been with me for the whole transaction, said, "Was he flirting with you?"
"I don't know! Was he? I would have no idea."
"I think he was."
"How do you know? How should I know? I always think people are just making conversation."
"I think he was flirting."
Then we went to a frozen yogurt shop were the slimy guy at the counter definitely flirted with me, in a way that was obvious even to me and was not pleasant. When we left the store, I said to my coworker, "Now that guy was flirting with me, but that's yucky." She agreed.
IV. Conclusion
I don't know how to dress myself. I need new makeup. I have no idea what artful, grown-up flirting looks like.
But what I find is that lately, after months of wanting to do nothing but get myself home, enjoy some time with the kids, and watch TV in my fleece pajamas, I feel subtly and not-so-subtly pulled outward. I'm more interested in what I wear and how I look, more interested in the interactions I have with people. I'm intrigued by figuring out what I might like to wear beyond the pants on the top of the stack and the shirt hanging in the front of the closet. I am interested in working on the art of conversation.
It's still decidedly winter, but it feels like spring.
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