Joy is hard when insanely busy

It's a three-day weekend, so I have some "extra" time.

Time.

Since I began working full-time a little more than a year ago I have struggled more with the issue of time than ever. Mostly because of the "time lost" with my girls.

And yet I spend every second with them -- when I'm not working.

When I was home all the time, I felt no guilt leaving a few hours on the weekends or missing a bedtime here and there.

Now. Oh, now. Is it guilt? Is it missing? Is it an emptiness? I have yet to put a finger on what it is that keeps me tethered to them even when I know I should leave, that it would be best for me to leave them.

This Washington Post article impressed me today. I don't know how. Or why. Just that it did. Perhaps knowing that my insane schedule isn't just my inability to plan or organize well enough. I've known for about three months that, if I'm lucky, I get a half hour of quiet time in the morning before the girls wake at 5:55 a.m. And, I "get" another half hour to an hour at night -- after they are asleep -- before I zonk out of pure exhaustion. And, sometimes, all I want to do is sleep with my "spare" time so I'm often found going to bed at 8:30 p.m.

Pathetic.

I have been meditating. And I owe HER for this. I can't give her the credit, though. I have started this on my own, when the time was ripe, when I was ready to just surrender to stillness. I understand, therefore I can.

I have found that it is truly my only real time for me. Not shopping. Not meal planning. Not even the thought of yoga or walking. Just being with myself.

I can't do anything well or right. I sometimes can't do anything at all. But sitting, being quiet, ah ... that I can handle. I can do it in pitch dark first thing in the morning, or at night when the stars are bright. It requires nothing but me and the floor. And, well, a little commitment on my part.

Do the thoughts of the to-do list badger me? Oh yes! Yes! Just this morning, after some sun salutations, my meditation included lots of things that need to get done today -- our last day together before the work-week begins again.

I want to bake with the girls, exercise, unpack a couple mysterious boxes, write out the meals for the week, and tackle two easy art projects -- painting a chalkboard in the kitchen and painting a stool for the girls' newly decorated bedroom.

It's a full life. There is so little time. But, it's all mine and that's why I've chosen to make JOY my word for the year. I have to keep it going. Joy can hardly be found when you're up with a vomiting child in the middle of the night -- such was the case Saturday night.

And yet, here, I am writing this morning. Something's gone right.


Thank you for visiting today.

Please consider subscribing here:

Subscribe in a reader

One minute: Take Action

If you work, do you spend a lot on child care? Are you a stay at home mom because child care was going to cost too much or not be of satisfactory quality?

If yes to any, or if you know someone who can say yes, take just one minute to make an impact today.

Go here and speak up.

Thank you.

Thank you for visiting today.

Please consider subscribing here:

Subscribe in a reader

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?


Thank you for visiting today.

Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:

Subscribe in a reader

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.





Thank you for visiting today.

Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:

Subscribe in a reader

The anti-parenting world we live in

I've been lucky that my job is very flexible toward the fact that I am a mother first and foremost in this life right now.

That does not mean that I haven't had to make some very tough decisions, mainly regarding how to leave a meeting late and still get to the girls somewhat on time. (You see, I start to stress that they are sitting in the dark center alone, getting scared and worried that I'm not coming for them. Yes, I have issues.)

Truthfully, I do worry about running late. I worry about how to get to the car out of the garage and not get stuck in the rush hour traffic, then hurry to pick them up and rush home to also make dinner as they starve and cling and cry at my legs. In fact, that last hour before dinner is often my most frantic and stressful. Even when I'm not late and mostly prepared.

Some days are worse than others and leave me wondering about who sets the agenda:

• 7:30 a.m. meetings.
• Working sessions at 3:30 p.m. that last two hours, and include dinner.
• Non-child friendly venues like ballrooms instead of ball parks.
  
• Evening invitations. Period.
  
• An inauguration that outlawed strollers.
• Bathrooms without diaper changing areas.
• Restaurants without kids menus.
  
• Diapers and milk buried at the BACK of the stores.
  
• New Year's Eve celebrations that don't include families with children.
• Happy Hours.
  

The other day at the dinner meeting in the middle of the afternoon, an old acquaintance who saw I was not eating asked me if I cook dinner every night.

"Um, yes," I wanted to say. "Isn't that what all mothers do or should do or try to do?"

"Yes, I try," I said to her.

She shook her head in disbelief.

Perhaps the bar, even for myself, is to high, I thought as I was stuck in traffic afterward, stressing about how I'm already late to get them and don't have anything really easy planned for dinner.

I experienced a slight epiphany as the setting sun burned into my eyes.

I need to relax.

So, I'm declaring this week as Mama's Week Off From Cooking. The dinners are so easy they can practically make themselves. The agenda is to have fun and be healthy -- without eating out, without spending a fortune and without a bunch of fuss.

And, of course, still be Mama -- because I can't be anything else right now.



Thank you for visiting today.

Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:

Subscribe in a reader

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.

Thank you for visiting today.

Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:

Subscribe in a reader

Chief of WHAT????

It's a big title for a mom who can barely keep her head above water most days.

Many of you have been wondering about my work, what I'm doing and how I'm coping being away from my sweet toddler girls who bicker and fight about everything under the sun -- including whether or not the sun is up or not.

I am working as a chief of staff for a local legislator.

And, from what I can tell after a mere two months on the job, it's a really good fit for the woman I have always been and the one I've become since becoming a mother.

The lens of the old me is much more filtered now ... many of the passions I had are now followed with a but, and a what if and why bother: and it always comes back to Jadyn and Liana or just plain being a mother in this generation.

There isn't an issue or a law or a complaint that comes along that doesn't fire me up about my love and appreciation for humanity. But I can't easily forget where I've come from just that morning -- wiping snot from one girl's nose just seconds after wiping diarrhea off her sister's butt. Life is good.

Motherhood -- parenthood -- is very humbling. My boss likes to tell me about the night he finished law school and was ready to celebrate -- only to arrive home to a floor covered in vomit, the result of his young son's cold.

There's no manual; no law book. There's no play-by-play for this parenting thing. It's a crapshoot, really, of every day trying to blend the new and exciting and joy with the mundane, frustrating and ready-to-move-out-of-this-phase phase. And I often -- meaning, several times a morning and a hundred times a night -- feel like I do not know what I'm doing, or why I chose to do it all in the first place.

And then they come along and look at me with their sweet eyes -- because they are starting to show those, now and then, -- and ask me a simple question, "My have that, Mommy?" And, they're starting to do little girl things like sit in front of my bathroom mirror and pretend to brush and fix their hair, and they love to fix my hair, too! And, they play some serious kitchen-play that includes lots of pretend hand washing. These are glimpses for me that there is light ahead, that I will be able to have fun as a mother -- some day.

It's still really hard to manage life with twins. And, it is because they are twins. We've struggled with much more fighting and bickering than previously. At my wits end, I found some research online and it's helping slightly. When they are playing well, it's very good. When they are not playing together and have selfish needs, it can be rather terrible and upsetting for me.

I miss them terribly when I'm at work, but I'm starting to find a balance - at least on the weekends -- that allows me to stay open and awake to them at certain times when not slaving in the kitchen or at the stores. There truly aren't enough hours in the day, dinner is ALWAYS a disaster and I now truly understand why more and more convenience foods are ending up on shelves despite the inconvenient cost.

There's no chief in my cap in the morning as I juggle the line between being woken up too early --well before dawn -- and tip toeing around, worried they will wake any second even though dawn has already arrived and yet I'm not able to get much done.

I'm not the boss of anyone as we make our way downstairs and bicker over what to eat for breakfast, which pants to wear and who will put on their socks, their shoes, their coats. There is no staff to help load the car with all the stuff, to help them realize we have to move along now or to race them to the car or to stop to look at a slug.

Mostly, I'm starting to find the cool groove of working while mothering, but I've been a very slow learner. VERY SLOW, in fact.

No, sir, there's no chief here.

Just a mom. And a very tired one at that.



Thank you for visiting today.

Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:

Subscribe in a reader

Rising up from the black hole

Besides reading and reviewing Patterson's new book, "The Dangerous Days of Daniel X," I'm starting to hit my working groove, I think.

I am no longer shrinking in the shadows. My name is slowly starting to creep back onto people's radars. I honestly feel like I have been living in a black hole in my own community.

People are sending me graduation pictures of their sons who four years ago were just leaving junior high school.

I've missed a lot of people's lives and they've missed a lot of mine but we're picking up the pieces as if I hadn't been holed up dealing with all babies, all the time for the last three years.

Our mornings and nights are still chaotic. I cry a lot in those times because they are not what I want them to be -- filled with sweet moments between two girls and their mommy. They are really quite the opposite and it's upsetting. It's been four weeks of "school" for them and I do see progress both with how they are falling into the routine and the loss of me, as well as with what they are learning.

When I'm busy at work, which is most of the time, I hardly have time to think about what I'm missing out on. But, those few moments in the day when I'm walking outside or driving, I have a minute to feel the grief inside my heart about being away from them for so long, for missing this part of their life.

When we finally reconnect, we hug a lot and we are giddy with joy. At least until we walk into the house and the crying begins. Why the crying at home? It's always been that way.

At night, when they need their blankets back on or a snuggle, I gladly hop up to do it, knowing it's my chance to get some peaceful time with them, breathe them in and feel their breath on my cheek.

It's not perfect and I can't imagine any working moms life being as such, but it's working. The job, the boss ... are very good. I'm finding my legs, again, as a smart, strong woman.

I'm still a mother, rising.

But there's a bit of that old Shawn rearing her energetic, passionate head -- the one who's always been on a mission to make the world a better place.

And, there could not be a better time to do this kind of work.

How about you? What's rising in your world right now?

Where I am now

We survived last week.

Barely.

Friday evening I collapsed in the arms of my two little girls and husband and cried. I've never appreciated a three-day weekend more.

I'm almost at a loss for words now. Numb, cautiously optimistic that this week will prove to be better.

By Friday, Liana was soaring without me. But, she was never the one I was worried about. I knew she'd thrive. She's a social butterfly ... someone who seriously needs to be around other people to feel her best.

She didn't even cry when I left Friday morning.

But, Jadyn ... she's a whole other story and just the thought of what I knew she was going through last week can send me spiraling down, again.

Still, she showed an ever-so-slight improvement Friday by not crying as long, and even played for most of the day. She still cried at pick up. She still didn't eat lunch -- but neither did all week. She was still so relieved to get back into her parents' arms. It didn't help that she picked up a small cold or something, too, but her weekend was all out of whack with what we believe was some night terrors and up several times a night wanting daddy, no mommy, no daddy. Helpless, knowing her pain, we did as she requested.

I'm sure tonight she'll sleep well and then the week will start all over again.

On a side note, both girls are talking non-stop now and it's so neat to witness it.

Highlights of this milestone:

In bed one night this weekend. The room was dark and we were doing our nightly petting hours. Liana said, "Daddy! I have gas."

Then, today at lunch:

Daddy: "Do you like grapes?" (Asked to Liana while she was eating almonds but preparing to eat a grape.)

Liana: "Yes." Pause. "I like nuts, too."

Thanks to everyone who has been trying to console me this past week. I do appreciate all of your kind words. I'm just going to let this play out for a while and see how it goes. There may be few postings in the meantime. Or, not ... you just never know.

"D




Thank you for visiting today.

Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:

Subscribe in a reader

At the end of the day

I must be under some test of strength by the universe. If I can handle this, I can handle just about anything, right?

I take it all back. Every last word.

I'd take a full day of tantrums and whining and never getting anything done to never, ever have to drop them off at day care, again.

What was I thinking? This isn't going to work out. I don't have it in me. I'm going to cave.

I AM NOT STRONG ENOUGH.

But, I can't. I'm not working to make money. I'm not working to get away from my children. I'm not working to further a career.

I'm working to help people; to make a difference in my daughters' world.

It's hard right now to keep this in perspective. They didn't eat all day. They cried all afternoon. They sobbed, uncontrollably, again when I arrived to pick them up. Their little hearts bursting with emotion. They don't want me to leave their side all night afterward. We were each other's worlds for so long and now they feel like I'm going to leave them any second.

And, my God, I can't stop crying about it (when they aren't around.)

They are depressed. I can see it. And it's truly breaking every string of my heart. One by one.

I don't think I can take another "it will get easier" comment. This sage advice doesn't help as I have to slide their little tightly gripped hands off mine and walk away, leaving them crying so hard they sound like they will vomit.

My super cool boss said that I'll laugh about all of this in seven years and he's probably right. He's a father himself. And I take comfort that all of this will pass and we'll all be stronger for it.

I'm afraid, I might be the one scarred for life. I'm picturing all the working moms of the world and wondering, seriously, how they do it.

How do they do it and not feel totally, utterly, sincerely crushed?

And then this note from one of their teachers: "They have a lot of trouble transitioning from one activity to another."

Seriously? This is a joke, right?

I'm worried that my only children -- my first born -- my youngest and my oldest -- are getting basic needs, like, say food, water, sleep and that they are smiling and happy for more than 2 hours in an 8 hour day.

But, OK, thanks for sharing your concern about how to get them to ease right from playing hard into taking a nap ON THEIR SECOND DAY OF DAY CARE!

That will make everything better for my depressed 2.5 year olds who feel like their mother has left them and will never return.

But, whatever, tomorrow's a new day and like this morning I'll set out with a smiling, happy face that will have them fooled until ...

I get dressed for work.

Then, it's game over.

Please, just rip out my heart!

Seriously. Take it out. I don't want to feel anymore.

This morning was harder; the crying, louder; the clinging, tighter; the pain, greater.

I"m having trouble seeing the forest through the trees. Why am I doing this?

I feel so selfish.

So.

Very.

Selfish.

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."


Thank you for visiting today.

Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:

Subscribe in a reader

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.