A Week of One

This week Cabin Girl and Cabin Boy #1 are staying with family across the state, so it's just Cabin Boy #2 with the Captain and I.

Just CB2.  

It is so weird.  

It's quiet.  It's less messy.  It's more manageable.  

And my awesome brain decided a while ago that, during this week, I would get shit done.

But, I'm vetoing that decision now that we're here.

Because CB2 has never had the one-on-one time his siblings had.  CG was an only child for over 3 years.  CB1 had solo time with me for 2 years while CG was in preschool a few hours most of the week.

 
So this week, I am devoting myself to focusing on this one child.

Listening to this one pair of feet pitter-patter.

Feeding this one demanding mouth.

Snuggling this one warm body.

Playing with this one curious mind.

Burbling this one soft belly.


Naptimes and bedtimes have been rough already.  He doesn't know what to think about big brother not being in the room with him at night.  And there have been a few times he's asked for sissy, not quite understanding what I mean when I say she's not here.

For now though, he's enjoying the choice movie spot on the couch, without having to fight for it.

So THIS is what guilt-free parenting feels like.

Have you guys seen the Orange Rhino Challenge?  In a nutshell, it's a challenge to stop yelling at your kids. 

*eyeroll*  Right?  How can you be a parent and not yell?  That's what parents DO.  It's like, 90% of the job description.

Isn't it?

Here's the thing: I'm a yeller.  My family of orientation has some anger management issues that were blissfully passed on to me.  The Captain, though much better than me most of the time, feeds off of my stress, so when I yell, he yells, too.  The kicker?  We never yell at each other the way we yell at the kids.  I would never, in a million years, use it as an acceptable form of communication with him, and he is usually so even keeled that I doubt he'd yell at me if I stuck a fork in his hand (okay, that may be an exaggeration, but you get the idea).

How is it okay to speak to our kids in a way that we would never dream of using with our partner?

We've made excuses for a long time.  "They just don't listen... I ask nicely 1,000 times and it's only when I yell that we get results... We do it to keep them safe... We can't communicate as effectively with them and we get frustrated."  I think most parents would think these are all viable excuses.  BUT THEY ARE NOT GOOD REASONS.

Since becoming parents of multiple children, our stress and anxiety levels have increased.  Now, we're about to add a 4th into our barely contained mass of chaos, and I've been thinking.  I've been thinking a lot.

About how I hate the way I feel when I tuck the kids in with tears on their faces, because I had to yell at them to just go to bed.  How I hate myself, because I should be doing better than this.  They deserve better than this.

About how I want to do better, and feeling guilty because I. Just. Can't.

So, upon my frequent blog hopping, I came across another Orange Rhino post.  This time, though, instead of passing it off as a wishy-washy idea, I read about it.  And I read some more.

I mentioned it to the Captain, and he became interested. 

This could be good for us.

We're starting small.  Like, one day at a time, small.

But you know what?

I did it.  I went the whole day, and the one time my voice got to a 4 level, I quickly reigned it in, took a breath, and started over.

And it was AMAZING.

But not yelling wasn't the only part of it.  I had to let go, too.  I had to let go of the need to control what my kids were or weren't doing.  I had to remember that they're kids.  One of them is barely considered more than a baby.  Cabin Boy #1 was the toughest.  Being nearly 4, he's picked up on my 'start yelling if someone doesn't do what I want' habit, and that's going to be a tough war to wage.  It will be so worth it though.

Because I got to say goodnight to my kids tonight without the guilt of things I said in anger, or things I yelled about, hanging over me, marking me as a less-than mom.  Less-than I want to be.  Less-than I should be.

Today, I didn't yell.  And I will strive to do the same tomorrow.  Because my kids deserve more than the less-than mom, and so do I.

Reflection: When molehills become mountains and learning to be grateful.

We've all heard it.  "Don't make mountains out of molehills."  It's a great idea, in theory.  But when you're in a moment of frustration and there are nothing but molehills in your path, it becomes almost impossible to see how you will get around the next one.

Last night was, possibly, my worst night ever as a parent.  And it's all thanks to too many molehills.

Captain spent the evening in Urgent Care Thursday night for headache/jaw pain.  It was frustrating, but we got through it fine.  The kids were fed, bathed, and into bed by the time he got home with a diagnosis of tic douloureux (pronounced tick doo-la-roo, which we've been saying a lot because it's kind of fun) and some hefty pain meds.  Friday morning I made a to-do list for myself (I had plans to be productive) and he decided to take a half day so he could manage the pain better without being medicated at work (electricity and sleepy pills?  Not a good combo).  Upon hearing his plans I decided to surprise Cabin Girl with an early day out of school and a movie date.  Then, he mentioned that some work friends were having a ping pong and beer gathering after work and he wanted to go.  Uhm... okay, I guess.  He never does stuff like that so I couldn't say No.

Fast-forward to coming home after the movie and the t.v. was on, the living room had exploded, Cabin Boy #1 was naked because he'd apparently wet his pants, though Captain wasn't sure where or when, Cabin Boy #2 hadn't been fed or changed in 'a while,' and Captain was looking at me through bleary, not-quite-teary eyes.  Despite him not feeling well enough to completely take care of the kids, he was still planning on going to the pong party.  "I won't be gone too long."  Oohhkay.

Things pretty much went to hell immediately.

While I went to the laundry room to get CB1 clean undies, someone went into their room and tore apart a book.  I went up to clean up the book and, upon taking it to the bathroom trash, discovered pee ALL OVER the toilet and surrounding area.  As I was cleaning up the goodness-knows-how-long-it's-been-there pee, CB2 brought me the cold, soaked pair of undies CB1 had stashed somewhere from earlier.  Cue beginning of shit-losing.  I charged CB1 with putting the dirty undies in the laundry room where dirty clothes go.  After I finished cleaning the bathroom I came downstairs to find Cabin Girl dancing around the dining table, the cloth stripped and laying on the floor with numerous scattered dirty dishes. "[CB2] did it."  Cue mommy tears.  I instruct CG to grab the table cloth and follow me to the laundry room.  On the way, I discover CB1's wet undies on. my. craft chair.  Cue beginning of anxiety attack.  I switched out the laundry and went into my room to scream into my pillows and hyperventilate a few minutes.  Add 'change sheets' to the to-do list, since now I've gotten mascara all over everything (why do I even bother wearing makeup?!).  I text Captain and my best friend, one to inform that it was in everyone's best interest that he come home, and the other just to vent.  Captain informs me that he's in the middle of a "little" tournament, but will be home as soon as it's done and hopes 'things improve' for me.  I head downstairs to finally figure out dinner (which is now an hour later than the kids are used to) and discover all the couch cushions and blankets have been thrown amidst the dirty dishes that still haven't been picked up, except a precious few that were relocated to the shoe closet in the entry.

It's like Scary Mommy was in my house last night.

This is the point where I decided I couldn't leave any child alone in any room for any amount of time for the rest of the evening.  So instead of making gluten free pizza, which we had all the ingredients for, I ordered from our favorite, local pizza place (while CB2 followed me SCREAMING) and turned on a movie.  While we waited the precious 30 minutes for our very late dinner to arrive, I grabbed a tote and started throwing toys in until I could fit all the living room toys into 1 big basket and 3 small ones (during which CB2 kept snagging toys from the tote and throwing them into the fireplace).  Instead of bathing the boys, I wiped them off with a washcloth.  CB2 went to bed just fine, but there was no getting the big kids to cooperate without daddy there to tuck in/snuggle/say goodnight (which I informed Captain of, but he never responded), so we watched the movie until CB1 passed out.  I let CG sleep with me until Captain came home (2 hours after he had informed me of the "little" tournament he was in) smelling like beer and fun.

At least he had the sense not to try to touch me once he got into bed.

So here we are this morning.  Captain is gone, working a scheduled overtime shift.  We need the money if we're ever going to have enough for a big down payment come the time we decide to move.  The kids are in the same fantastic mood they were in last night, so we're all gathered in the living room where I can keep an eye on the destruction they're causing.  I just want to shower, or go read a book somewhere quiet, or go make something wholesome for breakfast without fear of something being broken.

I can see these molehills.  I know they are trivial in the scheme of things.  First-world problems, if you will.  We will be getting out of the house in a little while.  They boys will get to play under someone else's supervision while CG dances with her ballet troupe for 2 hours.  I will shower at the park facility, knit, and hopefully get some socialization with other parents.  We'll probably get sandwiches from the Subway that's in the building, so I can avoiding a screaming fit of hunger from one or all of the kids.  We may go to a park to run out as much energy as possible afterwards.  We'll come home and I will lament at the amount of things I didn't get done yesterday, because I was focused on cleaning the path of destruction my kids made.  I will take a deep breath and get done what I can.

I will let my kids see me cry, if it comes to that again, because they need to know that sometimes Mommy gets upset and frustrated, too.  I will show them how they can help me, and pray that they enjoy the feeling of accomplishment more than they like the atmosphere of destruction.  We will get ready for CG to have a sleepover tonight and hope against hope that Captain comes home at a decent hour.  We will show him how much we enjoy his company and how much we appreciate what he does for us. 

Because the lesson I've taken from this is that it's Captain that keeps my molehills from becoming mountains; Sometimes with his help, but mostly with his presence.  It's days like yesterday that remind me that, though it's easy to be bitter, everything is better when we decide to be grateful instead.

The Painful Secret About Being Mom.

This mom-cage I live in is terrifying.  Beautiful, maddening, breathtaking, disastrous, hilarious, chaotic... terrifying. 

How can I be so lucky and feel so deprived?  Am I spoiled?  Do I just not understand how good I've got it?

When you can't go into the bookstore with your children, not only because you don't have the energy, but just KNOWING what a task it will be takes all the fun out of the idea.  When the people in a fast food drive through start to recognize you because your only escape is strapping the kids in their seats and driving until everyone either passes out or claims they're starving.  When a room is finally clean after an hour of hard work and distractive play for a whole 5 seconds only to be destroyed when you turn around to tackle the next task. 

When you look upon your husband's job... the long hours, the coworkers, the inclimate weather, the problem solving, the danger... with envy, and you resent him the 30-45 minutes he gets alone in the bathroom to wash off the day before facing a pregnant wife and 3 children who NEED his attention.  Because he was outside.  He got to interact with others.  He feeds us tiny morsels of what life is like in the real world on a daily basis because he's THERE.  He's IN IT.  

When you feel guilty for making plans out of the house 2 nights in a row.  When a Dr. appointment and parenting class elicit such feelings of bliss that it shakes you to your core.  'Please let the Dr. be running behind so I have an extra 10 minutes to stare out this window with nothing but my thoughts.' 

Oh Mother, is this what I sound like now? 

When you've become so sucked into the lives of these tiny people that need everything from you that you lose yourself.  You are a cup and they take gulp after gulp after gulp out of you, never able to quench their thirst, rarely, and sometimes never, giving you time to refill.  After a time you begin to stop offering yourself as a cup.  An empty vessel is not useful if it does not have something to carry within it.

What can I fill my cup with?  What do I like to do?  What music do I like?  Is there a new book I could read?  When did I stop knowing everything about myself?

Is this really who I've become?

I came across this today and it is what sparked these musings:

Which begs the question:

How do you choose?  And, once you have chosen, how do you go about spending more time with these idyllic people without scaring them away?  I would certainly be wary of a woman saying, "Hi, I admire you and want to share qualities x, y, and z of yours.  Here's my cell, Facebook page, e-mail address, and Twitter handle.  Can we start spending every Wednesday afternoon together?!"

Yes.  I have become like a child.  A toddler, even.  Socially awkward.  Demanding.  Prone to fits and tantrums.  Clueless and lost and just hoping someone will come along that's willing to entertain me, spend time with me, understand me... for just a minute.  Wait, please, 1 more?  Where are you going..?

Am I the only one?

Quick and Dirty: How much screen time can you eliminate?

I got SO SICK of seeing nothing but the back of Captain's head this weekend.  90% of our family time is spent with him on the computer or his smart phone, while the kids watch a movie, and I read a book or putter around the house.

Being totally honest, during the week, that's what my kids see of me.  

Oh. My. Goddess.  

What have I been doing?!  What am I teaching them?!

This week I will be turning the computer off at 8 a.m. (excepting today, since I got a late start after Cabin Boy #3 gave us a rough night; today I will turn this thing off as soon as this post is done).  It will not be turned back on until 7:30 p.m., when we have a post-bath pre-story dance party with the kids.  The t.v. will not come on until Cabin Girl gets home from school so I can have 30-60 minutes of dinner prep and homework help time with her.  The e-reader and smart phone will only be used for music or actual phone stuff.

I'm not sure what we'll do come the weekend, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there.

Wish me luck!

It's funny, it's true, it's sad.

How much screen time can you eliminate from your house?

Experiment! A pledge to my children.

For a long time we've I've struggled with maintaining a healthy lifestyle.  Captain doesn't care one way or another, as he doesn't seem to have health issues related to the type and amounts of food he eats.  The kids and I, on the other hand, do have issues.  Gut issues, skin issues, behavioral issues...  Issues that I've been in and out of denial about.  Issues that, because of this first trimester exhaustion, I just haven't been up to the task of facing.

I have to remind myself that these issues only make my days more difficult.  That feeling good is just as important as getting enough rest right now.  That if what I'm eating is making me feel like crap, what is it doing to the little bodies of my children, and the one that's currently incubating?  I'm constantly wondering if my pregnancy nutrition with the first 3 Cabin kids is the baseline for all the issues they have with allergies and digestion now.

So I've come up with a pledge to my children, and my experiment will be to stick with it, for as long as possible, and check in occasionally with how we're all doing and feeling.

What would you add to the pledge?  Will you make it to your family with me?

The lazy mom: This century's brand of feminism?

This is a subject that's been preying on my consciousness for a while.

While I totally agree that being June Cleaver is hardly the norm, nor should it be expected of women today, I feel like we're quickly sliding in the opposite direction.  Blogs about how few meals are cooked at home,  social media posts about drinking while kids are entertained by a screen, not giving a crap about a house that hasn't been vacuumed in months, contests to see who has the messiest house on the internet (which I voted on, because, let's face it, I need a handheld vacuum) are no longer few and far between, they're everywhere, and people LOVE them.

What with working parents, single parents, work from home parents, grandparents raising their grandkids, there is definitely a lot of redefining regarding the traditional household going on, which I TOTALLY support. 

BUT, with the stress of work, the economy, slipping school standards, public services being cut, should our rallying cry really be, "The standards of my home don't mean anything anymore, either!"?

I'm not perfect in the least.  I've never been tidy, organized, or a sparkly clean person in general.  I like sitting on the couch watching tv.  I like playing video games.  I like having fun instead of doing chores.  Our clean laundry sits in the basket for days.  Captain has pretty much taken over doing dishes, because it's something I just can't seem to get a handle on doing.  But I owe my kids more than being a lazy mom that won't show them how nice a home can be.

What happened to teaching our children pride in a job well done?  What better place to start than showing them that the accomplishment of having a dining table has a clean cloth, a swept floor, and knowing a space is usable without fear of stepping in a day-old dollop of yogurt is a feeling worth working for?  Why not show them that a home cooked meal that the whole family sits down to enjoy together is really where it's at; Not getting 8,000 'likes' on a status regarding having mac'n'cheese with your wine for the 5th night in a row.

I am guilty.  We all, at some point, are.  But let's leave it to the occasional "I do this sometimes, too.  You are not alone and it's okay," instead of something that all the cool kids are doing.  Let's stop the trend of  vilifying the parents that manage to maintain a clean house, cook their family's meals from scratch, and play with their kids outside.  Let's stop before the 'Super Mom' that used to be an awe inspiring term just makes other parents snicker with derision.

We're better than this.  Let's teach our kids that, too.