The Scarlet "M"

For a long time, during my fights for the disadvantaged, I spent countless hours advocating for the underprivileged who were black, Hispanic, and poor.

I still make those same arguments now, in the working world, but I've added in mothers, too.

I wear the Scarlet M. Do you?

Where ever I go, it's there sitting on my chest. It's in my clothes. It's in my walk. It's in my head. Following me. Pulling me. Holding my hand.

Everything from automatic flushing toilets to the way parking lots are configured are clearly inventions and creations and engineering constructed only by men who were not fathers, or were fathers who were too busy creating a life outside of fatherhood.

And the paternalistic attitudes. I've seen them a lot lately. I've fought against them. I'm trying to tell the powers that be who are aging yet still full of cash about what they're missing. Of course, I'm doing it nicely, womanly, sweetly as possible. We're a new generation of mothers. A new generation of women.

But inside I'm angry, filling up with anger and ready to send outbursts into the air that say something like girls matter, women matter, mothers matter and what the hell are you thinking?
We're mothers; not poison, not caged animals. Not covered in snot. Not germy. My kids scream, so what? My kids cry, a lot, so what? I deserve to eat out, too, you know. I can't afford a babysitter for that stupid event. (And, hey, my girl twins are now peeing on the potty, ya'll!)

I'm on a destiny to change everything related to mothers and women and raising girls right now. Something's gotta give.

I wear the Scarlet M. Do you?


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Ten minutes to write

My brain is too cluttered to write anything coherent here. Am I writing for me, Shawn -- the one I've known forever? Am I writing for me, the mother? Am I writing for you? Am I writing for the new me, the working mother who's finally getting it together? Or, am I?

I haven't a clue, which is why I haven't been writing.

Not that I don't have anything to say; I'm just not sure how it fits. Or, perhaps, when I'm downstairs in the kitchen and think, "Wow, that's a great blog post" I'm often instantly sent in another direction to answer a question (because that's what it's like now) or to reason with a 3-year-old. And then my mind forgets the good idea. Or, I walk to the computer to write and then I get stuck on Facebook, which reminds me of the past and soon I'm walking down memory lane and getting stuck. And then tired.

And, where was I?

Lately, my good ideas have been centered around the me I am now, the one I've talked about lately -- the one closest to the everyday me.

Stop.

Smell.

The.

Roses,

Mama.

Breathe.

Breathe deeper.

Let your ears fall away from your neck.

Hug your husband.

Giggle with the silly girls.

Write with no strings or purpose. Just do it.

Be patient with yourself.

Be even more patient with others.

Lower your expectations.

Forgive yourself. The things you've said. What they're saying now.

Live.

Stay awake.

Create. With your hands.

Enjoy.

Find peace. Know peace. Hold peace.

Sleep.





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Resurfacing

One of the most peculiar aspects of returning to work after just two years is the fact that I see people I haven't seen in years at meetings.

And we look at each other. I know them because they haven't changed, for the most part.

Me? I've changed like a dozen times -- all because I'm a mother now. I don't see things the same. I'm in a different crowd. Instead of bars and fancy restaurants, we can be found at Target, Lowe's and the local grocery store on a Saturday evening.

So, it's been interesting watching people's reaction as they realize that first I was gone from the scene for a while and now I'm back.

But it's nice having a voice again. It's nice being heard. Listening. Solving problems more complex -- but twice as easy as -- than helping two preschoolers share a new birthday toy or convincing a 3-year-old not to get out of bed and yell for us five times in one night.

It's still true that there is no harder job than being a mother -- a parent. At least, not in my experience.

That makes working again kind of difficult. It's hard for me to take anything too seriously. It's hard to watch people with minor problems freak out. It's hard to see single people call themselves busy. It's hard to see why the childless can't get stuff done.

Still, my inability to take command of my parenting skillz is nothing compared to the problems we deal with in this state government job. It's really easy by 4:30 to drop everything and rush to pick up my girls, knowing that at the end of the day, that's the highlight, the prize, the pot o' gold at the end of the rainbow.

OK, not a pot of gold ... a couple cranky 3-year-olds who make me chase them around the school before I have to pin them down and force them into their winter coats, gloves and hats, and then shove them out teh door to the car, where they cry all the way home and cling to my leg until I get their dinner on the table and then they just shove it away and cry some more and I start to want to pull my hair out and start feeling despair and frustration and vowing to never, ever, ever, ever make another meal again.

It's right about then that I start thinking, "Oh, good, I work tomorrow."

It's not perfect, but it's my life.

And, in other news, I'd like to thank Kisatrtle for honoring me with a One Lovely Blog Award. That just rocks ... it's been a while since I got a blog award.

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Gathering splinters

I've talked a lot about how in just about any life, one can work writing into their lives. I've even talked a lot about how motherhood is the one thing that has gotten in my way.

Well, I take it all back.

Kids have gotten in my way. Kids have blocked my writing.

I can pinpoint the start of this nasty season to the third week of July. It was hot and we were preparing for our road trip to GA.

Jadyn got up one day from her nap and met me in at the computer. She had escaped her crib.

It's been over ever since.

We moved them that week to beds.

What used to be 7 a.m.ish risings around here, quickly turned into 6 a.m. risings, then 5:30 risings ... and I've been a mess ever since.

There is no break. No downtime. I used to at least have the mornings and evenings, but even getting them to bed has been nearly impossible before 8:15, at the earliest, and then I just

want

to

crash

to

sleep.

I've never been more tired in my life than I am right now. I dream of all the great things I can finally do for myself: paint my nails, soak my feet, read magazines, finally scrapbook, write, drink wine, watch TV ...

And yet none of it happens.

That's why I'm not blogging. Not because I'm working, but because the home life has been so tough ever since Jadyn and Liana got a bit of freedom.

Today is the first day I can think of where they are awake and staying in their room to talk and play!!!! It's a miracle. I could do this. I could be this mother. Not the one that is surprised awake too early or rushed out of the shower. I can live this life, that leaves me even just a few minutes of space to breath, relax my shoulders away from my ears and let my mind wonder.

The sibling battles have been tense, mostly for me. One or the other (mostly one) is never happy with anything: That frustrates me because I am, still, so emotionally invested in their well-being but also because their happy state usually means I can relax and let down a bit. It's just so rare now that I have become tense and grumpy and full of venom.

All of that isn't much fun to write about, let alone blog about.

So while I've found my groove as a working mother, I'm gathering many splinters in the process. And, their sticking to my skin like never before.





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5 Tips for stay-at-home moms

I already gave myself a little note about lessons learned as a stay-at-home mommy and now I'm flipping the roles around and sending some 20/20 vision out to my SAHM friends seeking a bit of a balance while in the trenches.

1. Act like you're going to work: Get up, shower and drink your coffee just like you would start a day of working outside the home. And then take it a bit further: put on make up, and dress up, comfortably. You'll feel better about yourself.

2. Enjoy your thoughts: The main difference, that I can tell, between a stay-at-home mom and a mother who works outside the home is the fact that most SAHMs have more time to think. This can be good, and this can be bad. Whatever the outcome, be thankful that you have that space to reflect on the good and the bad instead of just wading deep in a pile of sticky fragments.

3. Relish the Nap Time: The second main difference between a working moms day and a stay-at-home moms day is in the nap time. Of course, that's only when the kids are napping. After that, it's all the exact same. No time to do anything. At. All. It's not mommy wars. It's called motherhood. But, while you have a nap break, use it to your advantage -- and that means get off the computer, and do something quiet just for you.

4. Exercise: I honestly thought I never had time to exercise, and really, I didn't but now looking back I realize I really did have more time. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't ideal. But it was something -- and it was MUCH more than I can give to that important hobby now. So, even if it's just running at the playground or doing push-ups in the playroom -- it's better than sitting at a desk all day. Seriously.

5. Take. A. Freaking. Break: Yeah, you ... leave the child. With someone else. For a whole day. Or a half a day. But, leave them. Hire a sitter and just go. Live with it. Deal with it. Learn to let the grips of guilt fall to the side, learn to leave your white knuckles at home, with the dirty diapers and mealtime battles. You will not be a better mother just by being with her or him around the clock. Trust me. You'll all be better off in the end.

It's almost 9 p.m. ...

And this is the first real chance I've had at blogging in an entire week.

I'd like to detail how I went at it with the director of my girls child care center this week, or how we had painters in to paint the kitchen and hall and they sanded the walls and ceilings -- twice -- and we've spent the better part of the last 48 hours, cleaning everything from dishes and glasses to floors and windows.

I'd love to fill you in on how the days away from the girls, while still hard, are getting to be physically easier. I'd love to say that I love my job and I can't imagine returning to life as a SAHM ... but I can't. I just can't.

I'd love to say that working is easier, but it's not. It's so not. I can't think of the last five minutes I had to myself. I miss the quiet. Meditation may save me ...

The truth is that I feel less fulfilled about this life than I wish I did. I am going through the motions, knowing it's right for our family and that this "preschool" setting is good for my girls and that, ultimately, I hope I am doing the right thing for myself. This week I have an event with our governor and while that's cool, I'm too insecure and worried about what to wear (it's a groundbreaking ceremony so it must be ... dirt-friendly).

Honestly, being back in the working world has reminded me of one very harsh reality that I had forgotten over the last two years: That real life people are inefficient, average and often rather annoying.

My little third-floor attic office and work-at-home schedule -- though demanding -- and blogging and communicating with my best friends by e-mail put me in a bubble that erased this fact from my memory. I was the boss, and I didn't have to rely on too many people -- at least not for much more than a 20-minute interview.

Now I'm left to realize that we're all human and that human sometimes isn't even close to being perfect -- or even average -- in real life.

I blame all of you for appearing so perfect to me, for making me believe in humanity again.

Darn you!

Thinking Out Loud: Notes to Working Gals

I've learned so much these last two years as a stay-at-home mom and I certainly do not want to forget any of it. And, to be sure that I do not, I wanted to create a memo to return to time and again to keep myself in check. Just about any parent could learn a lot staying home with their children for an extended period of time.

Live on one income: Even if you make two, try very hard to live on one. Be frugal. Save a lot. And, keep things very simple.

Be creative: It's not about being able to go out and purchase a piece of art; it's about working within your means to create it and have fun doing so. This goes for just about everything, too. Pick up pieces of a wardrobe at thrift shops and then try to make them work. Spend more time at the craft store than at the toy store. In fact, do not even go to the toy store.

Think natural elements: Put rocks in your windows. Twigs in a bowl. Pick up acorns, leaves and pine cones to remember the place you visited. Spend more time outside than inside. Value Mother Earth and all the beauty she spins on this planet. Try to walk more; drive less. Stop to smell the roses, meditate and cherish a little piece.

Snuggle: Our kids need this. Even if it's just once or twice a day. Stop cooking and cleaning if they want held. Pick them up and do it. If you can't that second, let them know you know that they need it and work hard to make it happen.

Quality time: Take time each morning and each evening to really just be with your children. Period.

Remember, we're all busy: And, we truly are. The stay-at-home mom life doesn't offer much in the way of breaks or time to fix dinner, either. It also doesn't offer sick time or vacation. Nor, was it easy to get to a doctor's appointment. Motherhood is hard no matter which way you slice it. Suck it up.

Write, write, write: Between getting ready for work, working out, meditation, preparing breakfast and dinner and spending good, fun times on the floor, playing, you have to find time to reflect on this life. If you do not, it will pass too quickly and you will wonder where the time went. Write about it so you'll always remember. Just write. Even just a sentence like, "We ate ice cold ice cream in the scorching sun today -- as a family."


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Motherhood on a shelf

For nearly three years, I've had to fight to remember who I was before I became a mother. I had to wonder what I did with all my time.

For the last 2.5 years, I haven't been able to escape being a mother. I couldn't dream of being anything else. The simplest things led me back to two beings: My daughters.

I breathed them. I dreamed of them. I daydreamed about them. I couldn't imagine another child, another life ever being more consuming than my love for them.

I couldn't imagine anything -- nothing at all -- ever coming between me and them. Where I began, they started; where they started, I began.

Now, as I spend eight hours away from them each day, I have to fight to bring myself back to being a mother. When I'd normally be fixing their lunch, I'm fielding calls with complete strangers who now need my attention.

As I walk on short breaks around town, I wonder who am I now? Am I still Mommy? Am I still a writer? Glimpses of my old self have started creeping back. It's me, but very different.

Like a web spun by a spider, I'm feeling stretched from limb to limb to remember the person I've been the last two years, the one who has put creativity and art and nature before everything else. The one who values family and love and gratitude above all. The one with dreams that have been on hold.

And it is hard. I walk down the store-filled street, window shopping for exercise, and realize that I'm drawn to the natural elements as I have been lately. I long to sit in and do yoga, create an artful masterpiece to sit on my daughters' bookshelves, a small bowl wih a simple message. I want to drop in the all natural cleaning store and soak up the good vibes respectful of Mother Earth. So many things I wanted to do ... so many, many things.

And yet ... I want to grab a glass of wine and listen to some music. I want to browse at the library. I want to talk to random people because I haven't' talked to random people in so long. but I forget how to talk to them. How to speak. How to get a conversation started without my conversation pieces -- Jadyn and Liana. I have nothing to glance down to, nothing to push forward and say, here these are my girls! Look at me! I'm somebody!

It's just me. Feeling very exposed but thin and frail and a bit insecure. Like just learning to walk for the first time. Careful, cautious, considerate.

My first three days were spent nearly incognito in a town where many people would recognize my face, and know my name. But, I have even changed that. I'm no longer using my maiden name -- my byline, a name that illuminates that woman I used to be and who hardly exists anymore. Even my hair is different.

At 5:01, I lock the office door, and briskly walk-run toward the parking garage and swiftly make my eight block drive home to my husband and daughters who await my entrance with giddy laughter and big smiles -- something long, long overdue in my life.

This week has been easy. I know they've been happy and fulfilled. Next week, next week will be different. And hard. Perhaps putting motherhood on a shelf won't be as easy.

But, for this week, it's been an interesting experiment to just be a little bit of both of women I used to be.

Photo Courtesy of Luckychair.