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.

UPDATE: What 2 minutes can do.

In just two minutes they stopped crying ... 2 minutes.

I cried longer than that!!!!!

Sheesh.

lol

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.

Live blogging ... a heart breaking

Did you hear that? That loud crash ... the earth falling off its axis?

Nevermind it.

It was just my heart shattering in a million little pieces and falling out of the sky as two little girls cried and clung to my legs as I shoved them away and left them. With strangers.

That's all. Just their world changed in a single morning.

And, no they didn't stop crying after I left. Perhaps it is harder on me than them, but it's really hard on them, too.

Back to work.

EDITED: Who needs lunch? Or snacks? When you're depressed, right? Turns out, they didn't need a full belly to take a nap.

Sigh.

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.

Guest Post from Daddy Dan

I'm three days into my week with the girls. Here's what I've learned so far:

They are a little more overwhelmed by new environments than I might have thought. Liana's clingyness is especially surprising: She is so independent and adventurous around the house. We went to gymnastics Monday, and they were both stuck to my legs. Same thing at our new pre-school. Now, in both places, they did warm up after a few minutes. But the world is still a big - and sometimes scary - place. It's easy to forget that seeing them in their element at home.

Meals are the most stressful times of the day. They say they're hungry and then don't eat. They chew things up and then spit them out, and they don't always have a clear reason. They love to bang silverware and make messes. Exhibit A: The Working Mom made a special effort to whip up some chicken salad for chicken salad sandwiches at lunch. They were hungry. I brought out the sandwiches. And Liana very patiently took off every last bit of chicken salad and ate only the bread. Question for my mom: Was I like this at 2? Oh, never mind. I know the answer.

All the energy it takes to keep up with them, all the stress - it's worth it for the one or two moments each day:

Hearing them tell the story of their day to Mom when she comes home from work: "We saw cows. In the barn. Go milking. Cow peed. One cow pooped."

Liana crying from a scraped knee on her way to the car. Jadyn, from her car seat, unprompted, reaching out to hold her sister's hand while Liana got her knee cleaned and bandaged.

Seeing them with other kids and realizing they move pretty well on their own and make decisions on their own. In not quite three years, they have become little people. Not perfect by any stretch, but the most beautiful people I could ever imagine.

Any dads out there have a story to share about that first solo week at home with the kids?