The mornings are no picnic. But then again, the evenings have their own challenges. It all gets back to that endless cycle of weekday logistics. That seems to be what's stuck in my craw these days. I've discovered in my 4.5 years as a parent that the conventional wisdom about changes taking hold with kids is true: give it two weeks. Quitting the pacifier? Two weeks of rough times, then you're good. Daylight Saving Time? Two weeks and the adjustment is complete. Hopefully my surface-level frustration with the weekdays will return to its normal level after two weeks of fretting; by my count, I've then only got a few days left.
I got home tonight to a scene of tranquility. The kids were playing Zingo* with Zulma, the chicken pot pie was in the oven and already smelling good. I was greeted with smiles and hugs, which was lovely. But I had not even the time to set down my bag, in fact, I was barely through the door, the door which had yet to even be shut, when I got hit with, "Mama, can I play Angry Birds? Mama, can I play Angry Birds? MAMA CAN I PLAY ANGRY BIRDS????"
Jesus, kid, can I set my coat down?
Of course, I have no one but myself to blame on this front since I introduced Riley to Angry Birds. Now I'm in a position of having to negotiate media time when I'm not really ready to do so since I have yet to determine what I think is appropriate.
So for tonight, I first said no, let me get my coat off please and figure out where we are with dinner. Well, in doing that (with nonstop running commentary/input/feedback from two kids talking at the same time), I had my back turned on Riley for an instant in the kitchen, and he did something we have talked about not doing at least fifty thousand times. He moved the cleaning lever on the oven door into the locked position and the oven thus entered self-cleaning mode. With the pot pie in it. Which wouldn't have been such a big deal except it was seriously stuck.
Did I mention that I was so hungry I was about to rip off Maddie's juicy leg and eat it raw?
I turned the oven off. I mentally ran down a list of other options for dinner (pats of butter? slices of cheese? apple wedges on the side?) while I yanked on the handle of the oven and tried not to yell at Riley, who was clearly feeling plenty bad about what he'd done. It just slays me how I'll tell them not to do stuff, explain why doing the stuff I'm asking them not to do is bad, and it takes it happening for them to believe it. Why am I surprised by that? I'm often the same way.
So Riley's out in the living room sobbing on the couch, but begging to play Angry Birds through the tears. Maddie is in Best Behavior mode to make up for Riley's transgression with the oven. I'm still starving and yanking on the oven, which, miraculously, gives in and releases. I cheer and announce victory. I reset it at the right temperature. I go to console Riley. He curls up on my lap and hugs me hard. I hug back. I settle in for some snuggles to make us both feel better. He struggles to get free, still sniffling. "Let me hold you a bit," I implore.
"But I just want to play Angry Birds," he says. "Not snuggle."
Now I really want to scream, at myself. I let him play, but make him take it into his room where the music won't taunt me with my own foolishness. He's only 4.5 and he wants to play a videogame rather than snuggle me, even in a time of emotional distress! FEH. It always surprised me how much things like this truly hurt, truly get down deep for me emotionally, even though I know perfectly well what it feels like to be so obsessed by something, so engaged by something, and on top of that, he lacks the emotional maturity to think beyond that obsession to how his actions could have an effect on me.
Things turned around a bit from there. Maddie helped me with dinner. Riley complained bitterly about what was being served, but didn't cry, and heated up his own Smart Dog rather than eat pot pie. What a nutter. Oh, yeah, well, then there were the tears when we had a "race" to get into our pajamas. I started the race before Riley had his sweatshirt off! There's still progress to be made in the dealing with competition.
It's just the same thing over and over, some evenings with fewer crises, some with more. Some with none! Some with nothing but. Tonight was somewhere in between, as most of them are. It wears me out, all this, these days.
And now it's on to the chores of the evening. The trash needs to go out! The laundry needs to be folded! This is the stuff of life. It comes off as so whiny and complaining, but that's truly not the spirit in which I log it. I write it just as a record of where things are these days, how so very much there is to do, knowing it's the same for most all of us even if the exact stuff of our lives varies from person to person. It seems in a way pointless to chronicle, but for some reason, tonight, I really needed to write it all down.
*Games have gotten much better. Guess what? It took about two weeks for the serious tantrums about winning and losing to settle down. We still struggle with competition, but at a level that seems more appropriate for a child than the insanity of our first forays into competitive gaming. Also, we played some cooperative games in Utah with great success and much enjoyment by all.
31 January 2011
27 January 2011
Mornings, and the Dilemma of the Working Single Parent
One way in which I am exactly the same as the majority of the world is that I find it hard to get out the door in the morning.
I don't want to get up as early as I really should to give us all enough time to get ready. Once I do get up, time seems to just slip away, and suddenly I should have left five minutes ago but I'm still shoveling cereal in my mouth and haven't brushed my hair. Maddie and Riley have been particularly loathe to see me go lately, so there are always a thousand requests for things they just remembered or want me to see or one last snuggle or such and such and such.
I've adjusted my attitude about the whole thing quite a bit. I'm working on getting up the fifteen minutes earlier that will really make a difference. I'm done telling everyone to hurry; it doesn't help and it just creates anxiety. I'm glad that I'm the only one who has to get out the door for now; the kids don't start their half-day preschool until 12:15, so they don't need to be dressed and shiny until I'm gone. So generally, while hectic, mornings are better than they used to be.
Today, though, was one of those mornings when things just didn't go well. I got up later than I should have, then I spent the morning managing cranky Riley's reaction to the indignity of being served cereal and fresh mango. It is so utterly exhausting to remain calm and rational in the face of a reaction more suited to the end of the world than to seeing a box of Cheerios on the table. Yeesh.
Which brings me to what this post is really about, which is working, and kids, and this strange secret life Maddie and Riley have for the majority of their waking hours.
When Maddie and Riley were babies, and I toted them off to daycare, I can honestly say that I never felt a twinge of regret. They were boundlessly loved at daycare, they thrived in that setting, and they enjoying attending. I enjoyed working, well, I mean, most of the time. Who wouldn't rather be independently wealthy and be able to structure one's time the way one wants and have help where help is needed and such? But given the constraints of reality, working was a good choice for me and our family, and daycare more than fit the bill.
Now the kids are getting older and things are getting more complicated on all levels. The first level is logistics. School schedules and traditional work schedules don't match up all that well. Like at all. Z, the wonder au pair!, has been a perfect solution for now. Over the long haul, I'm not sure the situation is financially feasible, but for now, we're good. An easy future option is the before school and after school care provided at M&R's school, but then there are summers, and it's all just very complicated. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
Then there is the logistical subset of activities. OMG, the activities! I tend to err on the side of low involvement in the kid activities. I'd like for M&R to learn piano and/or another instrument, and if they want to do a sport, I think that's peachy. But how? How will this work? I get off work at 5 p.m.! How am I going to get them to lessons and practices? I don't understand how this works for those of us who work a traditional 9 to 5 job!
So the logistics overwhelm me on one level, but other people have figured it out and so will I and there's always more coffee and maybe I could flex my time (ha ha ha! Anyone who works where I work just about keeled over they are laughing so hard at how well that idea would go over.) But whatever, we'll figure out the logistics.
Here's the harder thing. It's now, now that Maddie and Riley are older and have become these small people who say the most amazing things and have the zaniest thoughts and are developing independent interests and friends and such, now is when I want to be home with them. I want to volunteer in their classroom. I want to take them to their activities. I want to be at all the games and the performances. I want to go on field trips. Their lives are in many ways a mystery to me. Z tells me about what they do during the day, and so do Maddie and Riley, but they are four, and their narration is incomplete and hearing about it is a poor substitute for being a part of it.
This feeling is, of course, not unique. It's just taken me a lot longer to get there than it takes some people. I'm feeling downtrodden by the fact that during the week, my life with Maddie and Riley is nothing but logistics. From when we get up until I head out the door, is a mix of brushing teeth and making breakfast and eating breakfast and finding clothes, and who knows what all, but it's only 1.5 hours and little of it is fun time. From when I get home at 5:30 until bedtime at 7:30, it's once again a lot of logistics: there is dinner to eat, there might be a bath to take, there are pajamas to put on and teeth to brush and stories to read. On a good night, we get twenty minutes or so to play. Bedtime is not really negotiable since both kids are usually asking to go to bed by 7. But I hate that I have to say no more than yes when Maddie asks me if we can play dollies, or when Riley asks if we can do a puzzle. We're often counting the days until we can do something fun together, and even then, on the weekend, we still have to deal with a fair amount of Stuff That Keeps Life Moving.
I want more time for us to enjoy each other and for me to be engaged in their lives. I don't know how to reconcile that with working, and the fact that I enjoy my job as well. Plus we need health insurance and we need to pay our bills. Even if we went Drastic and I quit my job and we scaled WAY back: sold the car, rented a much smaller house, set limits on food and entertainment spending, I'm not sure we could do it. And even if we could, that seems like too much of a swing in the other direction. Where's the balance?
Or is "balance" just a word that means an unattainable goal of having it all? Because we can't do that, have it all. Lately, though, it just feels like I'm missing the most important part.
I don't want to get up as early as I really should to give us all enough time to get ready. Once I do get up, time seems to just slip away, and suddenly I should have left five minutes ago but I'm still shoveling cereal in my mouth and haven't brushed my hair. Maddie and Riley have been particularly loathe to see me go lately, so there are always a thousand requests for things they just remembered or want me to see or one last snuggle or such and such and such.
I've adjusted my attitude about the whole thing quite a bit. I'm working on getting up the fifteen minutes earlier that will really make a difference. I'm done telling everyone to hurry; it doesn't help and it just creates anxiety. I'm glad that I'm the only one who has to get out the door for now; the kids don't start their half-day preschool until 12:15, so they don't need to be dressed and shiny until I'm gone. So generally, while hectic, mornings are better than they used to be.
Today, though, was one of those mornings when things just didn't go well. I got up later than I should have, then I spent the morning managing cranky Riley's reaction to the indignity of being served cereal and fresh mango. It is so utterly exhausting to remain calm and rational in the face of a reaction more suited to the end of the world than to seeing a box of Cheerios on the table. Yeesh.
Which brings me to what this post is really about, which is working, and kids, and this strange secret life Maddie and Riley have for the majority of their waking hours.
When Maddie and Riley were babies, and I toted them off to daycare, I can honestly say that I never felt a twinge of regret. They were boundlessly loved at daycare, they thrived in that setting, and they enjoying attending. I enjoyed working, well, I mean, most of the time. Who wouldn't rather be independently wealthy and be able to structure one's time the way one wants and have help where help is needed and such? But given the constraints of reality, working was a good choice for me and our family, and daycare more than fit the bill.
Now the kids are getting older and things are getting more complicated on all levels. The first level is logistics. School schedules and traditional work schedules don't match up all that well. Like at all. Z, the wonder au pair!, has been a perfect solution for now. Over the long haul, I'm not sure the situation is financially feasible, but for now, we're good. An easy future option is the before school and after school care provided at M&R's school, but then there are summers, and it's all just very complicated. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
Then there is the logistical subset of activities. OMG, the activities! I tend to err on the side of low involvement in the kid activities. I'd like for M&R to learn piano and/or another instrument, and if they want to do a sport, I think that's peachy. But how? How will this work? I get off work at 5 p.m.! How am I going to get them to lessons and practices? I don't understand how this works for those of us who work a traditional 9 to 5 job!
So the logistics overwhelm me on one level, but other people have figured it out and so will I and there's always more coffee and maybe I could flex my time (ha ha ha! Anyone who works where I work just about keeled over they are laughing so hard at how well that idea would go over.) But whatever, we'll figure out the logistics.
Here's the harder thing. It's now, now that Maddie and Riley are older and have become these small people who say the most amazing things and have the zaniest thoughts and are developing independent interests and friends and such, now is when I want to be home with them. I want to volunteer in their classroom. I want to take them to their activities. I want to be at all the games and the performances. I want to go on field trips. Their lives are in many ways a mystery to me. Z tells me about what they do during the day, and so do Maddie and Riley, but they are four, and their narration is incomplete and hearing about it is a poor substitute for being a part of it.
This feeling is, of course, not unique. It's just taken me a lot longer to get there than it takes some people. I'm feeling downtrodden by the fact that during the week, my life with Maddie and Riley is nothing but logistics. From when we get up until I head out the door, is a mix of brushing teeth and making breakfast and eating breakfast and finding clothes, and who knows what all, but it's only 1.5 hours and little of it is fun time. From when I get home at 5:30 until bedtime at 7:30, it's once again a lot of logistics: there is dinner to eat, there might be a bath to take, there are pajamas to put on and teeth to brush and stories to read. On a good night, we get twenty minutes or so to play. Bedtime is not really negotiable since both kids are usually asking to go to bed by 7. But I hate that I have to say no more than yes when Maddie asks me if we can play dollies, or when Riley asks if we can do a puzzle. We're often counting the days until we can do something fun together, and even then, on the weekend, we still have to deal with a fair amount of Stuff That Keeps Life Moving.
I want more time for us to enjoy each other and for me to be engaged in their lives. I don't know how to reconcile that with working, and the fact that I enjoy my job as well. Plus we need health insurance and we need to pay our bills. Even if we went Drastic and I quit my job and we scaled WAY back: sold the car, rented a much smaller house, set limits on food and entertainment spending, I'm not sure we could do it. And even if we could, that seems like too much of a swing in the other direction. Where's the balance?
Or is "balance" just a word that means an unattainable goal of having it all? Because we can't do that, have it all. Lately, though, it just feels like I'm missing the most important part.
25 January 2011
Paradigm Shift
I didn't ever want to own a house.
Right there, you all are like, "OK, I see where this is going. She thought she never wanted to own a house and now she wants to." Yeah, that's kind of it. But not all of it.
John and I bought the condo that ended up being My Own Personal Albatross and Symbol of Grief because we got kicked out of the apartment we had been renting. It was being condoized, and we couldn't afford to buy it. So we bought something else, which was a stretch for us and required the financial assistance of family. It was, in many ways, the perfect place for us, insofar as no house is really perfect.
[HINT: FORESHADOWING OF LESSONS LEARNED.]
It was, however, an old house. An old, renovated house, but an old house. So I ended up in the position of having to care for two babies, a dying man, and a nearly 100 year old home that I knew was not my forever place to live. I felt obligated to keep it up to a standard that would allow it to be put on the market at any time. In the end, I made almost $20K of improvements to the home. Mostly due to bad timing, I (and the family members who had helped us with the downpayment) lost over $100K on the sale. While I truly have no regrets about moving and selling, that's a hell of a lot of money. It's fair to say that the experience soured me on owning.
[HINT: MORE FORESHADOWING ON LESSONS LEARNED]
The twins and I arrived in Portland, footloose and fancy free, happy to be renters. And renting has, in fact, been a great experience. I don't fret about not loving everything about the house; it's not my house, and I feel no emotional investment. It provides us shelter. If things break, someone else has to worry about fixing them. My expenses are predictable. It's not my responsibility, and given my life situation, it's good for me to jettison any responsibility that I can.
As I said, I never really wanted to own a house. Given that we were being forced to move and that the conventional wisdom of 2004 was that real estate was a sure-fire financial win, we bought rather than renting again. Owning a home was an important emotional milestone for John, and he took more pride in home ownership than I did. I'm glad he got to experience that in his too-short life. And it's true: the looking around, finally finding the right place, and having our offer accepted was, in fact, exhilarating, but truth be told I felt chained and overwhelmed as soon as we walked out of the closing.
Truth is, I just don't like owning stuff, houses included. Oh, I'm a good American, don't get me wrong, I own plenty of unnecessary crap, but I'm also constantly looking around, evaluating what I could live without and how I can get rid of it. Owing things = responsibility, and let me just say it one more time: I already have enough of that, thank you very much.
So we rent. And it's great. It's not perfect [told you that was coming], but it's been perfect for me.
Over the past few weeks, though, something has been shifting. I've come to terms with two important things. One is that I'm committed to living in Portland. I don't have any plan to leave. No, I can't see into the future and I'm aware that any number of life-changing events could cause me to reevaluate that decision. But today, and based on the most likely projections of the future, I don't see myself going anywhere. This is my town.
The second thing is that I'm specifically committed to living in North Portland, the infamous Fifth Quadrant (I love this town). It's not terribly close to my work, but it is close to my parents, my best friend, downtown, a Spanish immersion public school (in which Maddie and Riley already have spots), and good public transportation. It's one of the most socioeconomically and racially diverse neighborhoods in Portland. It's super-easy for my dad to get here from his town. It's bikeable. Overall, it's way hipper than I am.
Given that I'm committed to North Portland for the long haul, that I don't want to buy the house we're currently in, and that the owners of the house we're in have hinted around about wanting to sell at some point in the near-ish future, I've started to rethink my position on owning.
And so I've been poking around online, scouting out what's in the neighborhood. My dad, Maddie, and I went to an open house over the weekend, and I confess I've been kind of obsessed with the house we saw ever since. It was new! LEED certified! Drafts did not blow through the windows! I think the windows even had screens! It had NO YARD, just a patio! (Words cannot describe how much I hate yardwork.) The garage and the house were attached to each other! Gas fireplace! Grounded outlets throughout, lots of them! Dishwasher! Two blocks from MAX! Quiet street! Closets everywhere! Bathrooms everywhere!
OK, I need to calm down.
So, yeah, leases and money and details like that and I don't really know what's going to happen next here. But it's nice to feel settled, to feel like I want to commit to being somewhere long-term. Historically, that hasn't really been my thing. Over the course of my life, I've lived in five states and three countries, in more dwellings than I could easily count. I always thought I'd have some kind of international jet-setting career.
But guess what? I'm getting older. The idea of Maddie and Riley having the stability of never switching schools unless we choose for them to is appealing. Being a part of a place, committing to membership in a community sounds comforting rather than confining.
In other news: in addition to getting older, I'm getting fatter. And my new haircut has revealed all kinds of grey hair that I didn't know I had! Crikey. The times, they are a' changin', in all kinds of ways.
Right there, you all are like, "OK, I see where this is going. She thought she never wanted to own a house and now she wants to." Yeah, that's kind of it. But not all of it.
John and I bought the condo that ended up being My Own Personal Albatross and Symbol of Grief because we got kicked out of the apartment we had been renting. It was being condoized, and we couldn't afford to buy it. So we bought something else, which was a stretch for us and required the financial assistance of family. It was, in many ways, the perfect place for us, insofar as no house is really perfect.
[HINT: FORESHADOWING OF LESSONS LEARNED.]
It was, however, an old house. An old, renovated house, but an old house. So I ended up in the position of having to care for two babies, a dying man, and a nearly 100 year old home that I knew was not my forever place to live. I felt obligated to keep it up to a standard that would allow it to be put on the market at any time. In the end, I made almost $20K of improvements to the home. Mostly due to bad timing, I (and the family members who had helped us with the downpayment) lost over $100K on the sale. While I truly have no regrets about moving and selling, that's a hell of a lot of money. It's fair to say that the experience soured me on owning.
[HINT: MORE FORESHADOWING ON LESSONS LEARNED]
The twins and I arrived in Portland, footloose and fancy free, happy to be renters. And renting has, in fact, been a great experience. I don't fret about not loving everything about the house; it's not my house, and I feel no emotional investment. It provides us shelter. If things break, someone else has to worry about fixing them. My expenses are predictable. It's not my responsibility, and given my life situation, it's good for me to jettison any responsibility that I can.
As I said, I never really wanted to own a house. Given that we were being forced to move and that the conventional wisdom of 2004 was that real estate was a sure-fire financial win, we bought rather than renting again. Owning a home was an important emotional milestone for John, and he took more pride in home ownership than I did. I'm glad he got to experience that in his too-short life. And it's true: the looking around, finally finding the right place, and having our offer accepted was, in fact, exhilarating, but truth be told I felt chained and overwhelmed as soon as we walked out of the closing.
Truth is, I just don't like owning stuff, houses included. Oh, I'm a good American, don't get me wrong, I own plenty of unnecessary crap, but I'm also constantly looking around, evaluating what I could live without and how I can get rid of it. Owing things = responsibility, and let me just say it one more time: I already have enough of that, thank you very much.
So we rent. And it's great. It's not perfect [told you that was coming], but it's been perfect for me.
Over the past few weeks, though, something has been shifting. I've come to terms with two important things. One is that I'm committed to living in Portland. I don't have any plan to leave. No, I can't see into the future and I'm aware that any number of life-changing events could cause me to reevaluate that decision. But today, and based on the most likely projections of the future, I don't see myself going anywhere. This is my town.
The second thing is that I'm specifically committed to living in North Portland, the infamous Fifth Quadrant (I love this town). It's not terribly close to my work, but it is close to my parents, my best friend, downtown, a Spanish immersion public school (in which Maddie and Riley already have spots), and good public transportation. It's one of the most socioeconomically and racially diverse neighborhoods in Portland. It's super-easy for my dad to get here from his town. It's bikeable. Overall, it's way hipper than I am.
Given that I'm committed to North Portland for the long haul, that I don't want to buy the house we're currently in, and that the owners of the house we're in have hinted around about wanting to sell at some point in the near-ish future, I've started to rethink my position on owning.
And so I've been poking around online, scouting out what's in the neighborhood. My dad, Maddie, and I went to an open house over the weekend, and I confess I've been kind of obsessed with the house we saw ever since. It was new! LEED certified! Drafts did not blow through the windows! I think the windows even had screens! It had NO YARD, just a patio! (Words cannot describe how much I hate yardwork.) The garage and the house were attached to each other! Gas fireplace! Grounded outlets throughout, lots of them! Dishwasher! Two blocks from MAX! Quiet street! Closets everywhere! Bathrooms everywhere!
OK, I need to calm down.
So, yeah, leases and money and details like that and I don't really know what's going to happen next here. But it's nice to feel settled, to feel like I want to commit to being somewhere long-term. Historically, that hasn't really been my thing. Over the course of my life, I've lived in five states and three countries, in more dwellings than I could easily count. I always thought I'd have some kind of international jet-setting career.
But guess what? I'm getting older. The idea of Maddie and Riley having the stability of never switching schools unless we choose for them to is appealing. Being a part of a place, committing to membership in a community sounds comforting rather than confining.
In other news: in addition to getting older, I'm getting fatter. And my new haircut has revealed all kinds of grey hair that I didn't know I had! Crikey. The times, they are a' changin', in all kinds of ways.
24 January 2011
Teaser and a Tidbit
Utah was nothing short of awesome. Life has been nothing short of busy since returning, plus Netflix kindly had a new Mad Men DVD waiting for me when we got back from our trip, so I've been neglecting the blog.
I did download a bunch of photos off of my camera when we got home from our trip, and I am planning to post some once I stop being busy. The fact that I'm out of Mad Men DVDs will help my productivity, too. For now, here are two pictures taken by one of our hosts, one of Maddie and one of Riley. I'm doing myself absolutely no favors here as Karyn is a much, much, much better photographer than I am and now anything I post will be completely lackluster by comparison. These are just too good not to share, though. They were taken at the Ogden Nature Center, where Maddie spent most of the time talking to and about her animal friends and Riley spent the entire time exploring the texture and properties of snow.
In the few days after we got home from our trip, I overheard Maddie muttering to herself as she struggled to fit a doll into its clothing. As I listened carefully, I could make out the words of her chant:
We must, we must, we must increase our bust!
We'd better, we'd better, before we wear a sweater!
?????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!LOLZ and all that. "Where did you learn that?" I asked. She explained that she had heard it on an Amber Brown audiobook. Well, then. Maddie has continued to chant this with some frequency, and I've not said anything about it. I've never even asked her if she knows what it means. It's too funny for me to bother.
I did download a bunch of photos off of my camera when we got home from our trip, and I am planning to post some once I stop being busy. The fact that I'm out of Mad Men DVDs will help my productivity, too. For now, here are two pictures taken by one of our hosts, one of Maddie and one of Riley. I'm doing myself absolutely no favors here as Karyn is a much, much, much better photographer than I am and now anything I post will be completely lackluster by comparison. These are just too good not to share, though. They were taken at the Ogden Nature Center, where Maddie spent most of the time talking to and about her animal friends and Riley spent the entire time exploring the texture and properties of snow.
In the few days after we got home from our trip, I overheard Maddie muttering to herself as she struggled to fit a doll into its clothing. As I listened carefully, I could make out the words of her chant:
We must, we must, we must increase our bust!
We'd better, we'd better, before we wear a sweater!
?????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!LOLZ and all that. "Where did you learn that?" I asked. She explained that she had heard it on an Amber Brown audiobook. Well, then. Maddie has continued to chant this with some frequency, and I've not said anything about it. I've never even asked her if she knows what it means. It's too funny for me to bother.
14 January 2011
Watch out Utah, Here We Come
We're leaving tomorrow to spend a long weekend in Utah.
Yes, Utah.
We'll be staying with some wonderful friends, to whom I would link as both parental units blog, but their blogs are relatively private and I haven't asked permission, so that will be retroactively hyperlinked if OK'd.
These are friends I've known since college. Truth be told, we weren't super-close for most of our time at our alma mater, but we forged a deeper friendship senior year, and I attended their wedding when I was home for a visit between my first and second years of Peace Corps. A quick mental rundown reveals them to be my only college sweetheart friends, and perhaps the friends of my generation who have been married the longest. They have always seemed so gosh-darned happy together and happy with their lives that I am at times jealous, I admit it. But that feeling is never but fleeting; mostly I am just infected by their joy and recognize that they have certainly had their peaks and valleys as we all have, if perhaps more quietly than some.
They passed through town over the summer with their daughters, who are 10 and 8. (Right?) They spent a quick night, arriving just in time for some pizza for dinner, some rides on the three-bike, some bedtime stories, and some visiting before heading out as I left for work the next day. It was time enough for Maddie and Riley to fall in love with the two older girls, who were genuine in the return of affection, and for the grown-ups to have a quick chat about the idea of a us taking a trip to see them.
And now, off we go.
This trip marks a first for me. I've never taken Maddie and Riley on a vacation that did not involve going to visit family or taking family along with me. I'm a lifelong traveler, and the idea of traveling with my children is one that captivates and excites me, but it also exhausts me. There's no relaxing when traveling with two young children on your own. It's an endless stream of logistics, and my unwillingness to undertake vacation adventures with the twins feels like one of the biggest hurdles I've faced as a single parent. If I had a coparent, I fully expect that by this time, we would have been on at least one U.S. vacation of note, and likely we would have even already been overseas. I just haven't been able to commit to anything of magnitude yet.
As Maddie and Riley get older, though, I can see that changing. This trip is a perfect trial run. The flight is short, the logistical hassles greatly reduced by staying with friends. We'll be gone only three nights. It's only one time zone.
But it's nonetheless a break in routine. Not too long ago, it would have been out of my comfort zone. Tonight, though, I'm excited to see friends and a new place, to get away, and to start to share with M&R the joys of traveling. We're all growing up.
Yes, Utah.
We'll be staying with some wonderful friends, to whom I would link as both parental units blog, but their blogs are relatively private and I haven't asked permission, so that will be retroactively hyperlinked if OK'd.
These are friends I've known since college. Truth be told, we weren't super-close for most of our time at our alma mater, but we forged a deeper friendship senior year, and I attended their wedding when I was home for a visit between my first and second years of Peace Corps. A quick mental rundown reveals them to be my only college sweetheart friends, and perhaps the friends of my generation who have been married the longest. They have always seemed so gosh-darned happy together and happy with their lives that I am at times jealous, I admit it. But that feeling is never but fleeting; mostly I am just infected by their joy and recognize that they have certainly had their peaks and valleys as we all have, if perhaps more quietly than some.
They passed through town over the summer with their daughters, who are 10 and 8. (Right?) They spent a quick night, arriving just in time for some pizza for dinner, some rides on the three-bike, some bedtime stories, and some visiting before heading out as I left for work the next day. It was time enough for Maddie and Riley to fall in love with the two older girls, who were genuine in the return of affection, and for the grown-ups to have a quick chat about the idea of a us taking a trip to see them.
And now, off we go.
This trip marks a first for me. I've never taken Maddie and Riley on a vacation that did not involve going to visit family or taking family along with me. I'm a lifelong traveler, and the idea of traveling with my children is one that captivates and excites me, but it also exhausts me. There's no relaxing when traveling with two young children on your own. It's an endless stream of logistics, and my unwillingness to undertake vacation adventures with the twins feels like one of the biggest hurdles I've faced as a single parent. If I had a coparent, I fully expect that by this time, we would have been on at least one U.S. vacation of note, and likely we would have even already been overseas. I just haven't been able to commit to anything of magnitude yet.
As Maddie and Riley get older, though, I can see that changing. This trip is a perfect trial run. The flight is short, the logistical hassles greatly reduced by staying with friends. We'll be gone only three nights. It's only one time zone.
But it's nonetheless a break in routine. Not too long ago, it would have been out of my comfort zone. Tonight, though, I'm excited to see friends and a new place, to get away, and to start to share with M&R the joys of traveling. We're all growing up.
11 January 2011
Conversation & Observations
On Sunday, we were hanging out with the neighbors, watching football. This is how we spend most Sundays. Riley was on my lap, and we were eating popcorn. Riley turned to me, a pitiful look on his face, and said, "Mama, I have to tell you something and I really don't want to."
"It's OK, turkey. You can tell me. What is it?"
"I put a popcorn kernel up my nose."
And with that, he burst into tears, aware that he had done something he should not have done and worried that I would be mad about it.
I wasn't mad. Poor dude had a popcorn kernel up his nose and was clearly beating himself up about it plenty without me chiming in. I can be counted on to become angry when it comes to Dumb Things Over Which I Actually Have Little Control or Other Dumb Things About Which 4.5 Year Olds Cannot Be Expected to Care, but when the rubber hits the road and we have a true Situation on our hands, I generally hold my shit together real good.
We looked up Riley's nose with a flashlight. No kernel visible. We tried a snot-sucker. No kernel. I implored Riley to envision blowing out of his nose so hard that he would shoot the kernel across the room. No kernel. We called my retired doctor dad who praised our tactics and advised that we contact our doctor's nurse advice line. The nurse advised blowing air through Riley's nose in an attempt to force the kernel into his mouth. This was tried. That's a mother's love, people.
At this point, Riley started to claim that the kernel had made its way into his throat and that he'd swallowed it. This is possible, even plausible, but I sure wish that I'd seen the damn thing. The nurse told me to bring Riley to the doctor if he had pain in his nose or any icky discharge, which has not happened. She also told me to have the "don't put stuff in your nose" talk with him. Believe me, we've had that talk many times. I hope this incident drove it home.
***********************
It's sleeting outside. Sleet is totally gross and is likely creating some unpleasant driving conditions, but ultimately it will amount to nothing. I don't miss shoveling Boston snow AT ALL, but I am jealous of the snow day that many of my Boston-area friends will be enjoying tomorrow. Have fun for me, all of you in Boston. Happy snow!
***********************
As part of my job, I supervise the people who run the college print shop. The lease is about up on our biggest copier, and so I've been working with the lead person in the shop to investigate options to replace the machine we have. Today, our Xerox rep drove us to two places in town that use Xerox equipment so that we could see it in action.
The rep reminded me so much of Mr. Brady. He was a vision of Mr. Brady twenty years from now. Mr. Brady also works in sales, and it was that demeanor, that way of making you feel so important, that ease with people, the impeccable manners, the charm, that brought him to mind. When it's good, it's so natural and unforced. None of today's wooing made me want a Xerox copier, but it did make me wonder about this particular personality type and how much of being that way is innate and how much of it is effort. The Xerox guy had a second in command with him, an equally refined and knowledgeable guy, but one for whom the demeanor felt nurture rather than nature, and who thus gave off a bit of the sleazy vibe. No, not even sleazy, I wouldn't go that far, but just forced.
***********************
Z continues to be fantastic.
Maddie and Riley continue to be charming and wonderful.
Work continues to be . . . challenging on the days that I have the right attitude and somewhat of a drag on the days that I don't.
My motivation to do much other than eat and read once the kids are in bed for the night is pretty much nil.
Sleet is still coming down. If it's icy enough, maybe there will be a "snow" day tomorrow after all? (I'm ignoring the weather reports that say this will all just be rain before daybreak. A girl can dream.)
"It's OK, turkey. You can tell me. What is it?"
"I put a popcorn kernel up my nose."
And with that, he burst into tears, aware that he had done something he should not have done and worried that I would be mad about it.
I wasn't mad. Poor dude had a popcorn kernel up his nose and was clearly beating himself up about it plenty without me chiming in. I can be counted on to become angry when it comes to Dumb Things Over Which I Actually Have Little Control or Other Dumb Things About Which 4.5 Year Olds Cannot Be Expected to Care, but when the rubber hits the road and we have a true Situation on our hands, I generally hold my shit together real good.
We looked up Riley's nose with a flashlight. No kernel visible. We tried a snot-sucker. No kernel. I implored Riley to envision blowing out of his nose so hard that he would shoot the kernel across the room. No kernel. We called my retired doctor dad who praised our tactics and advised that we contact our doctor's nurse advice line. The nurse advised blowing air through Riley's nose in an attempt to force the kernel into his mouth. This was tried. That's a mother's love, people.
At this point, Riley started to claim that the kernel had made its way into his throat and that he'd swallowed it. This is possible, even plausible, but I sure wish that I'd seen the damn thing. The nurse told me to bring Riley to the doctor if he had pain in his nose or any icky discharge, which has not happened. She also told me to have the "don't put stuff in your nose" talk with him. Believe me, we've had that talk many times. I hope this incident drove it home.
***********************
It's sleeting outside. Sleet is totally gross and is likely creating some unpleasant driving conditions, but ultimately it will amount to nothing. I don't miss shoveling Boston snow AT ALL, but I am jealous of the snow day that many of my Boston-area friends will be enjoying tomorrow. Have fun for me, all of you in Boston. Happy snow!
***********************
As part of my job, I supervise the people who run the college print shop. The lease is about up on our biggest copier, and so I've been working with the lead person in the shop to investigate options to replace the machine we have. Today, our Xerox rep drove us to two places in town that use Xerox equipment so that we could see it in action.
The rep reminded me so much of Mr. Brady. He was a vision of Mr. Brady twenty years from now. Mr. Brady also works in sales, and it was that demeanor, that way of making you feel so important, that ease with people, the impeccable manners, the charm, that brought him to mind. When it's good, it's so natural and unforced. None of today's wooing made me want a Xerox copier, but it did make me wonder about this particular personality type and how much of being that way is innate and how much of it is effort. The Xerox guy had a second in command with him, an equally refined and knowledgeable guy, but one for whom the demeanor felt nurture rather than nature, and who thus gave off a bit of the sleazy vibe. No, not even sleazy, I wouldn't go that far, but just forced.
***********************
Z continues to be fantastic.
Maddie and Riley continue to be charming and wonderful.
Work continues to be . . . challenging on the days that I have the right attitude and somewhat of a drag on the days that I don't.
My motivation to do much other than eat and read once the kids are in bed for the night is pretty much nil.
Sleet is still coming down. If it's icy enough, maybe there will be a "snow" day tomorrow after all? (I'm ignoring the weather reports that say this will all just be rain before daybreak. A girl can dream.)
06 January 2011
First
The father of one of the twins' friends emailed me yesterday. He said that his daughter was wondering about the possibility of having a playdate with Maddie. Just Maddie.
M&R have played with the girl in question, F, many times before. In fact, this father/daughter pair totally saved me in the gap between our former nanny going back to school and getting Z through the door. During that eight-week stretch, SuperDad picked up my kids and his own kid from preschool every afternoon and entertained them all until I got home. He is a Rock Star, and after all of that quality time, our kids are very familiar, and at times very fond, of each other.
It's fair to say that Maddie and F have always played together more than Riley and F or perhaps even more than the three of them as a trio. As with basically all of the kids the twins play with, F is more Maddie's friend than Riley's. Maddie is highly social and motivated by who she can play with. Riley is more task-oriented and chooses what he wants to do first, then welcomes those who want to play with him. If that's no one, he's OK with that. He's never asked to have a playdate, but has happily tagged along when I've arranged one for Maddie. Sometimes, going along with Maddie has been the only option; either there's no one for me to leave Riley with or the friend comes to our house. Sometimes he's made a deliberate choice to go with his sister. But in any case, it's never been clear to me if he was going more or less by default or by design.
When I got home last night, we had this conversation over dinner:
Me: "Hey, guys, I got a call from SuperDad. He said that F wants to have a playdate, with Maddie tomorrow."
Riley: "Just Maddie?"
Me: "Yeah, she thought it would be fun to have a playdate for the girls!" [wasn't quite sure how to present this]
Riley: [no words, but looks like he's going to cry]
Maddie: "But who will take care of Riley?"
Me: "Well, Z will be with Riley."
Maddie: "But I don't want to go without my brother!"
Riley: "I want to go! Why can't I go?"
Me: "Don't worry, guys, I'll tell SuperDad that you'd rather go together and see if that's OK."
The were both totally scandalized by the idea of a playdate for one and not the other. I know this is a part of growing up that they will need to deal with. They will have separate friends, they will be invited on separate outings and to separate parties. I look forward to that, selfishly, as it will give me a way to spend one-on-one time with them, something I rarely get to do and always enjoy.
But it's also painful, this process of individualization, and it was so upsetting and shocking last night that I was unwilling to push it. I know from my own observations and from feedback from teachers and friends, that M&R are totally capable of being independent. They have different interests at school, and while they tend to play together at home, they also play separately from time to time. Riley is obsessed with football right now and Maddie could not care less; Riley spends time on his own every weekend with our neighbors watching games while Maddie and I do other things. I'm not sure I could pay Maddie to do a puzzle, but she'll color at the art table while Riley works on one in the hallway.
At the same time, they have rarely ever truly spent time apart. I don't think either of them would sleep well or much if they weren't in the same room. When they are apart, they ask about each other constantly. They don't know anything except having the other around. It has brought me great comfort to know that while the might have only one parent, they have a clearly deep and supportive bond with each other and that they provide each other stability in ways that are unintentional and unknown. They love each other in a way that it true and pure.
I feel no need to force the separation that will naturally occur. They will find a way to balance their individuality with their bond, and I will help them in that process. As someone who grew up functionally as an only child, I find Maddie and Riley's tie and devotion to each other compelling, sweet, and foreign. I like that they don't want to be apart. I'm sure their interest in being constantly together will ebb and flow with time, but for now, if they want to be together, so be it.
M&R have played with the girl in question, F, many times before. In fact, this father/daughter pair totally saved me in the gap between our former nanny going back to school and getting Z through the door. During that eight-week stretch, SuperDad picked up my kids and his own kid from preschool every afternoon and entertained them all until I got home. He is a Rock Star, and after all of that quality time, our kids are very familiar, and at times very fond, of each other.
It's fair to say that Maddie and F have always played together more than Riley and F or perhaps even more than the three of them as a trio. As with basically all of the kids the twins play with, F is more Maddie's friend than Riley's. Maddie is highly social and motivated by who she can play with. Riley is more task-oriented and chooses what he wants to do first, then welcomes those who want to play with him. If that's no one, he's OK with that. He's never asked to have a playdate, but has happily tagged along when I've arranged one for Maddie. Sometimes, going along with Maddie has been the only option; either there's no one for me to leave Riley with or the friend comes to our house. Sometimes he's made a deliberate choice to go with his sister. But in any case, it's never been clear to me if he was going more or less by default or by design.
When I got home last night, we had this conversation over dinner:
Me: "Hey, guys, I got a call from SuperDad. He said that F wants to have a playdate, with Maddie tomorrow."
Riley: "Just Maddie?"
Me: "Yeah, she thought it would be fun to have a playdate for the girls!" [wasn't quite sure how to present this]
Riley: [no words, but looks like he's going to cry]
Maddie: "But who will take care of Riley?"
Me: "Well, Z will be with Riley."
Maddie: "But I don't want to go without my brother!"
Riley: "I want to go! Why can't I go?"
Me: "Don't worry, guys, I'll tell SuperDad that you'd rather go together and see if that's OK."
The were both totally scandalized by the idea of a playdate for one and not the other. I know this is a part of growing up that they will need to deal with. They will have separate friends, they will be invited on separate outings and to separate parties. I look forward to that, selfishly, as it will give me a way to spend one-on-one time with them, something I rarely get to do and always enjoy.
But it's also painful, this process of individualization, and it was so upsetting and shocking last night that I was unwilling to push it. I know from my own observations and from feedback from teachers and friends, that M&R are totally capable of being independent. They have different interests at school, and while they tend to play together at home, they also play separately from time to time. Riley is obsessed with football right now and Maddie could not care less; Riley spends time on his own every weekend with our neighbors watching games while Maddie and I do other things. I'm not sure I could pay Maddie to do a puzzle, but she'll color at the art table while Riley works on one in the hallway.
At the same time, they have rarely ever truly spent time apart. I don't think either of them would sleep well or much if they weren't in the same room. When they are apart, they ask about each other constantly. They don't know anything except having the other around. It has brought me great comfort to know that while the might have only one parent, they have a clearly deep and supportive bond with each other and that they provide each other stability in ways that are unintentional and unknown. They love each other in a way that it true and pure.
I feel no need to force the separation that will naturally occur. They will find a way to balance their individuality with their bond, and I will help them in that process. As someone who grew up functionally as an only child, I find Maddie and Riley's tie and devotion to each other compelling, sweet, and foreign. I like that they don't want to be apart. I'm sure their interest in being constantly together will ebb and flow with time, but for now, if they want to be together, so be it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
