Aliens have taken over

-- pshhhhhhhhhh --

Something. Is. Not. Very. Good. Here.

Little. Strange. People. Living. In. House.

Do. Not. Understand. Them.

Worried. I. Can't. Make. It. Another. Day.

Torture. Has. Begun.

Dear Universe:

I've been going through the motions of this ride called Motherhood this week and just about each step has made me question if, perhaps, my house and life has been invaded by sources from another planet.

These are not my children. They can't be mine. There's no way they came out of me.

No, sirs or madams. Please send me back my sweet toddlers, who threw tantrums and cried only half the day -- not all day.

Please, I beg you, return my little angels in one piece and statements like, "Just Shoot Me Now," shall never be uttered again. I swear on your spacey-aged music.

For if you leave these "foreign objects" here any longer I am afraid I will need my own gadget to ride me out of here, to a place where I will suddenly understand the language, where "no" means no, "yes" means yes and we can all pick one or the other instead of staying somewhere in the middle of yesnoyesnoyesno land.

And the hitting. I'm sorry, but hitting, pinching, slapping, kicking and throwing should mean time out and time out should mean stop what you just did and that means don't do it again -- NOT two seconds later.

And, please take with you all articles of clothing that look remotely cool enough for 2 toddlers to want to wear at the same time. And shove our ONE swing in that vehicle of yours, too, because if I have to drag another child out of it to put another one into it, well, let's just say that meteors will be the least of your troubles.

Finally, if you bring my girls back, I am sure that I will at least be able to keep a shiny, happy smiling face on until 8/ 8:15 a.m. which I understand this week has been a bit of a stretch.

I have tried my best to take care of your space children, though I understand you may think otherwise. At least I get them out of their beds in the morning as they cry frantically for their daddy, who is at work and will not be home for 12 hours. At least I hug them and apologize for the fifth time that hour that we do not have a car today and no we can't go for a ride. And, I swear that I will not lose my temper, again, when they are brawling on the kitchen floor and I haven't even poured the breakfast cereal in the bowl.

Please. Beam. That. Earthling. Who. Thought. I. Could. Handle. Two. 2-year-olds.

Please. Send. Help.

--pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh --



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I've been Skirted!!

Remember that list I wrote a while back about what to buy mommy blogger's for Mother's Day ... it's been discovered! Be sure to check it out and send it along to friends this holiday.

You can see the Skirt listing here. If you haven't connected yourself with Sk'rt, you should, and do so before they change the name, which will be very soon. It's just for us.

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Cirque du Two

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Redirecting: Just stories.

"You can't get on this truck," the 3-year-old boy said, towering from above as we walked into a new, unfamiliar mall play area. "It's for big kids. And, you're babies!"
Redirect to the slide.
Boy scurries over to the slide, hops on and blocks all entrances.
"You can't come up here. This is for Big Kids and you're babies."
Redirect to the airplane.
Boy runs over and hops onto a wing.
"You can't come up here. This airplane is for Big Kids and you're babies."
Redirect to other side where babyish toys stand. Spot half-dozing grandmother not paying an ounce of attention to boy.
"Is that your child?"
"Yes, did he do something?"
"Well, yes, he's blocking the equipment so my daughters cannot get on and calling them babies."
"Thank you for telling me."
Redirect to another location while grandmother scolds boy and makes him apologize.
"I'm sorry, Big Kids!" the boy yelled passing by and leaving them alone.

*****

An hour before dinner. A beautiful afternoon after a groggy rainy day. Wheels.
We were off for a walk.
Redirect. The story of my life right now. Redirect. Redirect. Redirect.
"Let's try a new walk today," I ring out.
"Yeah," the girls say, not knowing where we were heading in the first place.
"Walk," Jadyn whines.
"Walk!"
"We have to drive there, OK?"
"Walk!"
When we arrive we instantly see a dog romping through the grass.
My heart races. We've committed. There's no turning back without crying. Lots of it.
I hesitate. I wait.
Doggie goes off in the distance.
We get out and start walking.
We see more dogs. More dogs. More dogs.
I'm nervous, wondering how I get myself into these situations.
We walk to the edge where there are about a dozen dogs playing off leash in what is not a dog park.
An older man with his dog are about to leave and spot us. He trots his dog Mindy over and we meet.
"You don't want to go over there," he said. "Not with them."
"I wasn't going to," I tell him, adding that my daughters love to "hug" dogs.
"I'm John; who are you?"
We introduce ourselves, share the news that we've never been to this park before.
"You walking back?" he motions.
"Yes, let's walk back to the car with Mindy," I say.
Liana turns with a smile and reaches up with her small, soft hand for John's hand.
She manages to grab his two aging fingers and hang on to them for the whole walk back.
It was a hard good-bye, leaving all of those dogs and John who was standing there, flopping his hat on and off for amusement.
Jadyn and Liana tossed him a kiss and he beamed as we drove away.

How about you? Have any fun moments to share that involve your kids? Something that gets you out of your comfort zone a bit, breaks your own long standing rules? Something your glad you got out of the car for?


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Inch by inch, straddling the fence

The funny thing about considering going back to work full-time -- by back, I mean return since I was in the workforce once before as a mother -- is that recently I've begun getting really annoyed by the so-called media-hyped Mommy Wars. But, it's not just the media, unfortunately. Web sites are being created for working moms, too, answering things like how to fix dinner or stay social when working because, you know, stay-at-home moms have nothing to do but cook and talk on the phone all day.

Since I've been on both sides of the battle line I know the challenges, the advantages, the joys and sorrows of each. I know them very well, in fact.

We all struggle with finding time doing the ordinary, the stuff we don't like so we can have more time doing the things we do like. Each season brings a new obstacle to figure out and make our own. And, since my mom always worked I know it is still possible to mother well while working. I also know that she missed out on a lot of memory-making, too, because she was busy preparing for working.

Both "sides" have it equally hard for so many reasons.

But I know three things I'm certain about:

The first is that I do have more quality time with my girls now than I would if I worked. Nothing beats our no-rush mornings lying in my bed giggling under the covers before our breakfast that includes entertainment of silly noises and clapping for each other's big bites. And, I cannot imagine a better way to spend a childhood than taking long walks in the park as often as possible or lounging in the backyard in the afternoon, filling ourselves with fresh air and nature's best toys.

The second thing is that by working I would certainly avoid the often dead-beat feeling of being a mother, such as doing the mundane chores while dealing with simultaneous tantrums, or putting their clothes back on several times in one hour or making yet another grilled cheese lunch because, frankly, I just don't know what else to make besides peanut butter and jelly anymore. In other words, I'd get out of a lot of the crap work and get to spend more time just being the cool Mommy.

The third is that no caregiver could do what I do as their Mama. In a way that is comforting to me. But in other ways it is not. You see, I am that Mama who would make and fly a kite. I am that Mama who creates backyard painting projects. I am that Mama who goes on field trips. That's the Mama I love being; that's the one that I wish could be every minute of the week.

These three points are not perfect or black or white. There are certainly times/days/weeks that are better for quality time than others. And, there will still be crap work as a work-out-of-the-home Mama. I know how easy it is to complain about being at home all day, but I also know that I'm lucky to be here, that I still look forward to Mondays when it's just me and the girls.

But, I will say this: All the comments were wonderful yesterday. I appreciated all of them and took them all into account. I do have a great village. Certainly, I am approaching this from the top of the fence knowing the pros and the cons, knowing the challenges for each. Like a good journalist, I'm gathering facts and weighing their importance.

And I do not know which way I am leaning right now. I do know that by writing this post I learned a little more about the gray areas of the situation, the part that wasn't easily written on a pros and cons list. In the meantime, deadlines are looming.

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Book Review: Rockabye

Last year when I stumbled upon Rebecca Woolf's Girls Gone Child blog, I was instantly captured by her wit and honesty and beauty.

I am not one to be smitten with the Famous (well, there's a few people I've idolized) but Woolf's writing style had me at first click. She's been on my blog roll since I've had one and it's only been in the last week that she's even known that I existed.

I'm a lucky woman these days being offered to review products in exchange for a freebie. For a one-income family and a starving artist writer mommy, this has truly been a blessing for me.

There are some books I have, especially right now, I put off reading once they arrive in the mail.

Woolf's memoir, "Rockabye," is not one of them. From the gorgeous cover to the witty synopsis on the back, I was ready to roll up my sleeves and get reading.

I read books on Mama Time now so it took me two weeks to read it, but that's not because I didn't want to sit down and devour it. It is, in fact, a fabulous read that, more importantly, gets a Mama thinking.

If you know a woman who is pregnant for the first time, pregnant unexpectantly or just a little shell-shocked by the fact that a human being is growing inside her body, this book will make a great addition to that baby shower gift. If you have ever struggled with fitting in as a mother, following the rules or breaking them as a mother or wanting more than just caring for your kids then this book is for you.

Just like her blog -- with many of the same themes -- "Rockabye" leads you on a long walk in Hollywood, where you learn quickly that Woolf is truly a gem of a mom in a city that could easily swallow up a new mom in a single vegan bite.

This book made me laugh out loud and I was sharing bits with my husband -- especially about her arguments with her husband, Hal.

I think about Woolf's story often since finishing - especially yesterday when I had two toddlers hugging my legs to the point I could not move. Their strength is amazing to me. Woolf described a time when her son Archer was physically assaulting her and she seriously felt like he was going to kill her. I laughed so hard at that, knowing how that feels, like you might not escape this one (at least not without hurting the child).

What says with me most, though, is her confidence as a mother to let her children be children and to not worry about what others are doing and thinking. She demonstrates how she insists that Archer isn't put in a box and raised to be like every other child because he is not like every other child. He is Archer.

There's some lessons to be learned in that.

Seriously. Check out her book if you have an extra $10 around somewhere. It truly is worth reading.

Be sure to read my interview with Woolf. And, check out the other reviews of "Rockabye" as well at The Parent Bloggers Network blog.

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WWYD? URGENT

What if after more than a year of being at home, being just a little more than just a mom and someone – no, not just someone – a very important someone called upon you for a very big job?

What if the mere thought of leaving your daughters made you sick to your stomach, and yet the job is enticing and interesting and perfect enough to get your mind racing about it?

Could you imagine dropping your daughters off at day care, wondering about their day and picking them back up only to have a couple hours before bed to spend time with them?

Would evenings and weekends – and some holidays – be enough?

Does the sound of your own high heels clicking on the tile floors excite you or make you cringe?

And skirts? You hate skirts, right? Especially after day after day in sweatpants and T-shirts, right?

Why on earth do you need the money anyway? You’re fine living just above the line on one-income.

It’s just money, right? And most of that would go to day care, yes?

What would your daughters want from you? What is best for them? To be stuck at home some days of the week with their crazy mommy asking them to do crazy art projects yet again? Or, playing and learning to socialize and get along with other kids every day of the week?

What would they want? What do they need right now -- to play and learn, right. Wouldn't they like to do that with friends?

Do you think they can learn as well from someone else?

Would they understand why you are suddenly leaving them every day?

Can you imagine leaving the one that cries for you when you only leave the room let alone for an entire day, for an entire week for weeks on end? Would she eventually stop crying for me?

What if it's for a job that could change lives? What if it's for a job that puts nothing above serving and caring for fellow human beings?

Dear Counsel of the Internets: WWYD?

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