You've seen it said a hundred different ways. A housewife, a housekeeper, stay at home mom, a domestic career woman, and my generation's pitfall: "I'm just a mom."
A dear friend of mine caught me saying this last week and was quick to remind me, "You aren't just anything. You are busy being a mom."
But I heard a term this week that I'm going to adopt. I read an article where a woman called her daughter-in-law a family builder.
Add that to my resume:
Family Builder. Job duration: forever.
I can handle that.
----
I feel like I am persistently exhausted.
I know what you are thinking. Hello, you're a mom. Welcome to the club.
But I have been persistently exhausted since about 2008. Most of the time I blame it on my own laziness, but behind that excuse is the ever present my-body-doesn't-function-properly excuse.
This week I realized I am letting these excuses get in the way. How did I come by this realization? I decided to wake my baby up from her nap (wake a sleeping baby? that's a major no no!), plunk her in her stroller, and walk 45 minutes just to go to a religion class across town.
And it was worth every step.
When I got home, I realized that I am letting "too" many excuses about my body get in the way of doing things that are good for my mind and my family. I tend to use that word "too" too much. For example:
I'm too tired. The baby is too cranky. The house is too messy. We are too poor. It costs too much money. It's too much time. It's too much effort. I'm too overwhelmed.
You get the picture.
If I take the "too" out if it, these things magically stop being excuses and start becoming statements.
I'm tired. The baby is cranky. The house is messy. We are poor. It costs money. It takes time. It takes effort. I'm overwhelmed.
Statements are easily debatable. I'm a pretty good debater. I need to stop talking myself out of things and start talking myself into them.
I can handle this.
-----
The Future.
Dun dun dun.
As an adjective, it means "to come; expected." As a noun, it means something along the lines of "fate" or "luck." Right now, in the Fowler household, it means "the great unknown."
This phrase has become a frequent term around our home as we look toward the coming months when my husband will finish his degree and get a career job. There are so many questions that surround this "expected fate" that we can't dwell on it too long or it makes us both want to barf. I think back to my days of high school journalism and the inverted pyramid of finding answers: who, what, when, where, why, and how.
Who will he be working for? What kind of job will it be--will he like it, will it pay well? When will we find the right one? Where on earth will it be? Why does the thought of moving terrify and excite me at the same time? How are we going to make ends meet in the meantime if we have to pay for a move, an extra car, Cobra insurance?
Each of these questions has a dozen follow-up questions and I don't know the answers to any of them. I have this gut feeling that everything will work out--and this feeling in my heart that nothing is going to work out the way that we expect it to--and then my mind goes into overdrive with wonder and anticipation. I see each thought, each question, each wonder pile up on my husband's shoulders as the stress increases and the weight becomes visible and I think, "It's just too much."
And then I take out the "just."
And I take out the "too."
And I think, "it's much."
Yes, it's much. But much we can do. Much we have done.Much we will do. Much we can tackle.
We can handle this.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Mom Lesson #174
I have learned another "Mom Lesson" this last week. I don't even know which number this mom lesson is (I should start a notebook and number them), so we'll start on 174. Today's gem of wisdom is this:
Mom Lesson #174
Moms do not get sick days. They get sick minutes and if they are really lucky, sick hours.
This has defined my last week. About two weeks ago, Kevin and I both got colds. Because she is a healthy, bouncy baby who likes to take three hour naps in the afternoon, her cold was gone by last Saturday. By last Saturday night, my cold was much worse.
And because I have a husband who does way more than his fair share, I decided that instead of sleeping, I would get up with Kevin during her early-morning feedings for a few days in a row. I'm also trying to put our home in order, so I hadn't taken much time to sit down and rest like I usually do and my cold got worser and worserer. By Monday night, I felt awful. By Tuesday morning, I could barely breathe. Around 2 am I decided to go sleep on our loveseat recliner and began counting down the hours to 8 am, when the Instacare around the block opened.
I woke up to Scott doing homework on the couch and watching me. I knew there was no way I could ask him to stay home from work, since he was so busy and I knew he needed to be there. So, around 7 am, he left me and baby girl on the couch. He said it was the saddest face he's ever seen on me. It probably was. I had no idea how I was going to survive that day--I figured I could get as far as the instacare with the stroller, but a whole day taking care of Kevin, by myself, without a nap, when I'd barely slept all night?
Ten minutes later, as I was changing a diaper, I heard the front door open. When I came out of the nursery and back into the living room, I saw a dozen yellow roses and lots of delicious chocolate (because oh, by the way, did I mention that it was our anniversary?). The best part, however, was my husband standing there telling me he wasn't going into work that day.
Mom Lesson #175:
Life is easier if you has a husband who brings you chocolate and puts you back to bed.
So I was lucky enough to get some sick hours that day as he took care of Kevin before going to school.
Mom Lesson #176:
Every Mom needs access to an Auntie who can come in and save the day!
Enter my little sister Liz, who played with Kevin while I took a nap and Scott went to class and did homework.
I have a wonderful family.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Time and Cake
Scott has now been back in school for three weeks. This means that his homework loads are now fairly consistent and study time more of a necessity. In addition to his regular full-time classload (and full-time workload), he is busy applying for internships and going to open houses, etc. This means he is gone much more than either of us would like.
At this point, I'm glad I didn't marry a prospective lawyer or doctor (my kudos to Holly and Eliza...not sure how you girls do it!). A two-year, part-time Masters of Accounting program and or MBA is sounding like plenty enough school to put my husband through at the moment.
While Scott is busy getting started on the road to a career, I'm...well...I guess I'm doing the same thing. At home.
Raising my daughter is my career now. And you know what? I'm not sad about it. Yes, I get cabin fever quite often. And on days like yesterday, when Kevin and I are both sickly and Scott is gone from 7:45 am until 10:30 pm with only an hour break for dinner around 4:00, it means I want to pull my hair out.
Only I don't have very much hair, so I refrain from doing that.
He sends me texts during class, just to check on his girls. He took the iPod, so he can chat with me and it ends in pep talks that we give each other. This was last night's:
It seems to me that the days and weeks are getting longer, but the months are going faster.
Even when the long days end in exhaustion and begin in fatigue, I am so grateful to be where I am right now. Before my daughter was born, I got a lot of flack from my professors for "putting my dreams" on hold in order to raise my family. I think that in today's society there is the misunderstanding that you can have your cake and eat it too--a woman shouldn't have to put career goals on hold "just" for a family. Who knows? Maybe another woman can have a family and a career at the same time. In fact, some of my very best friends are doing just that. I have learned, however, that this is not the case for me. In my mind, finding a career other than the one I am pursuing right now means that I have two smaller pieces of cake instead of a big piece with the possibility of seconds later.
It's interesting to me how being a stay-at-home mom has become somewhat of a controversial topic in today's society. There are times that I hold my tongue in a church discussion or a conversation with friends because I know that what I believe deep in my heart might not be a welcome comment. It's not that I think my mom friends who work love their children any less. I know they love their babies as much as I love mine. And it's not that the decision to work isn't right for them. I'm in no position to say whether it is or it isn't. All I can say is what I feel is right for me. And what I feel, right now, is this:
If I were to pursue another career right now, I would have to miss out on those sweet little somethings that make all this worth it day in and day out. Something like the look on my baby's face when she wakes up from her morning nap (or the look on her face after 15 minutes of crying and you go to rescue her because you've both figured out she isn't going down for a nap right now). Something like reading One Fish, Two Fish and Goodnight Moon for the hundreth time in a week. Something like sleep training and food training. Something like that loneliness that comes when your main interaction for the day is with a child so young she can barely form syllables and even those aren't on purpose. Something like working on tummy time and sitting time and teaching the very basic of the basics--this is how you swallow solid food, this is how you roll over, this is how you grab a toy, this is what the toy is for, this is how you smile, this is a reason to smile. Something like realizing that she has the same look on her face that you have on yours when her daddy finally walks through the door. Something like a quiet moment of eye contact as she finishes yet another bottle and you realize that you can see your reflection in her eyes just like you can see it when you look into her dad's eyes. Something like realizing you are what makes both of those sets of eyes sparkle.
The time is going to pass anyway. Someday I will get a master's degree and write a best-seller. It doesn't matter whether I do that at 25 or 45 or 65, the accomplishment will be the same. The opportunity will be there. But these first five years of my daughter's life? They will go away. Quickly. So I will hold on to this time and prepare both her and myself for the day when things have to be different. I will not give up my opportunity to instill in her a solid foundation that will help her make her way in this world. How can I expect my children to function in a world as dangerous as today's if I don't spend every day dedicating myself first and foremost to helping them build their armor? I simply don't trust anyone else to do this job.
So we'll keep plugging along through the lonely weeknights and busy weekends and sinks full of dishes and rooms full of messes and schedules full of making baby food and picking up toys and driving Daddy to class and singing lullabies and never having time to shower properly.
This is my piece of cake.
It is huge.
And it is delicious.
At this point, I'm glad I didn't marry a prospective lawyer or doctor (my kudos to Holly and Eliza...not sure how you girls do it!). A two-year, part-time Masters of Accounting program and or MBA is sounding like plenty enough school to put my husband through at the moment.
While Scott is busy getting started on the road to a career, I'm...well...I guess I'm doing the same thing. At home.
Raising my daughter is my career now. And you know what? I'm not sad about it. Yes, I get cabin fever quite often. And on days like yesterday, when Kevin and I are both sickly and Scott is gone from 7:45 am until 10:30 pm with only an hour break for dinner around 4:00, it means I want to pull my hair out.
Only I don't have very much hair, so I refrain from doing that.
He sends me texts during class, just to check on his girls. He took the iPod, so he can chat with me and it ends in pep talks that we give each other. This was last night's:
.
Scott: I miss both of you
Tonight is torture
me: Yeah...what would you know about it?
7:07 PM Scott: Business tax
Ugh
Missing my girls...
me: Crying baby. Dirty dishes. Inside of an apartment that I haven't left in 24 hours.
7:08 PM Scott: You win. Sorry babe
7:09 PM Want me to come home early?
7:12 PM I take that as a yes
7:14 PM me: no
we can't get into that habit
7:15 PM Scott: I know. I'll do my best
me: this sucks
7:16 PM Scott: I know it does babe
:(
me: bad
7:17 PM Scott: You should get a little ice cream and put on a movie
7:18 PM me: already did
Scott: Which movie?
7:22 PM Is baby super cranky ?
7:26 PM me: YES
7:27 PM Scott: That makes me so sad
me: Nothing is helping and she won't let me put her to bed...I think she is missing you.
7:28 PM Scott: I can come home after this class
me: You need to stay for your other class babe. We'll survive.
Somehow.
7:29 PM Scott: What If I don't make it that long?
me: you have to
7:30 PM Scott: It's not fair to you. You are stuck with cranky pants all the time
me: I'm her mom. I signed up for this.
7:31 PM Scott: I still don't feel it's fair
| 6 minutes |
7:37 PM Scott: Thank you for the sacrifices that you make for our family. I feel like you have to sacrifice so much.
| 32 minutes |
8:10 PM me: I don't have to sacrifice anything. The worst sacrifice would be to let someone else raise my baby while I worked at some job I hated. Staying home with her is no sacrifice at all.
It seems to me that the days and weeks are getting longer, but the months are going faster.
Even when the long days end in exhaustion and begin in fatigue, I am so grateful to be where I am right now. Before my daughter was born, I got a lot of flack from my professors for "putting my dreams" on hold in order to raise my family. I think that in today's society there is the misunderstanding that you can have your cake and eat it too--a woman shouldn't have to put career goals on hold "just" for a family. Who knows? Maybe another woman can have a family and a career at the same time. In fact, some of my very best friends are doing just that. I have learned, however, that this is not the case for me. In my mind, finding a career other than the one I am pursuing right now means that I have two smaller pieces of cake instead of a big piece with the possibility of seconds later.
It's interesting to me how being a stay-at-home mom has become somewhat of a controversial topic in today's society. There are times that I hold my tongue in a church discussion or a conversation with friends because I know that what I believe deep in my heart might not be a welcome comment. It's not that I think my mom friends who work love their children any less. I know they love their babies as much as I love mine. And it's not that the decision to work isn't right for them. I'm in no position to say whether it is or it isn't. All I can say is what I feel is right for me. And what I feel, right now, is this:
If I were to pursue another career right now, I would have to miss out on those sweet little somethings that make all this worth it day in and day out. Something like the look on my baby's face when she wakes up from her morning nap (or the look on her face after 15 minutes of crying and you go to rescue her because you've both figured out she isn't going down for a nap right now). Something like reading One Fish, Two Fish and Goodnight Moon for the hundreth time in a week. Something like sleep training and food training. Something like that loneliness that comes when your main interaction for the day is with a child so young she can barely form syllables and even those aren't on purpose. Something like working on tummy time and sitting time and teaching the very basic of the basics--this is how you swallow solid food, this is how you roll over, this is how you grab a toy, this is what the toy is for, this is how you smile, this is a reason to smile. Something like realizing that she has the same look on her face that you have on yours when her daddy finally walks through the door. Something like a quiet moment of eye contact as she finishes yet another bottle and you realize that you can see your reflection in her eyes just like you can see it when you look into her dad's eyes. Something like realizing you are what makes both of those sets of eyes sparkle.
The time is going to pass anyway. Someday I will get a master's degree and write a best-seller. It doesn't matter whether I do that at 25 or 45 or 65, the accomplishment will be the same. The opportunity will be there. But these first five years of my daughter's life? They will go away. Quickly. So I will hold on to this time and prepare both her and myself for the day when things have to be different. I will not give up my opportunity to instill in her a solid foundation that will help her make her way in this world. How can I expect my children to function in a world as dangerous as today's if I don't spend every day dedicating myself first and foremost to helping them build their armor? I simply don't trust anyone else to do this job.
So we'll keep plugging along through the lonely weeknights and busy weekends and sinks full of dishes and rooms full of messes and schedules full of making baby food and picking up toys and driving Daddy to class and singing lullabies and never having time to shower properly.
This is my piece of cake.
It is huge.
And it is delicious.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
What I've learned about being a parent during the last six months...
1. Teething sucks.
2. Shots really stink (but how cute is it a few hours later when your daughter is mesmerized by the sparkly bandaid on her thigh and pulls it off herself when you didn't think she was even capable of intentionally grabbing things?).
3. Don't expect your daughter to like Pride and Prejudice until she is at least 18 (years, not months).
4. The giggling stage is the best one ever!
5. Maybe carrots are more delicious than I think they are. I think they are gross. Kevin loves them.
6. Being a single parent would seriously stink (and the life I live doesn't even come close to that...but on these days when Scott is gone from 7 am until 10:30 at night I say a prayer of gratitude for him and our marriage).
7. It isn't the end of the world when you misplace your camera. It just feels like it.
8. There will never ever ever be a day when your home is fully organized and clean. Ever.
9. Expect the unexpected: sometimes your child will surprise you (eight weeks early). Sometimes you will surprise yourself.
10. It's okay to decide to be D-O-N-E with nursing at six months when you've been hooked up to a machine like a dairy cow multiple times a day for multiple months because your baby didn't really get a chance to figure out the whole "nursing" thing before it was too late. Given the situation, six months is really good. Also, don't expect to be thanked for the task because chances are your daughter probably won't ever know what lengths you went to in order to give her the best possible chance at a healthy body. But it is nice to have a husband who supports and praises you even though he probably secretly thought for the last six months that you are 100% crazy. (I think he's a bit relieved that we both decided that should this situation arise again--meaning a baby who doesn't nurse--formula will be the. only. option.)
11. There is a certain magic about being the first person she sees when she wakes up in the morning. That First Smile is priceless.
12. You have to make the sounds when you read Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?
13. It's okay to stay in your pajamas past 10 am if you've been up in the middle of the night every night for the last week.
14. There is a certain beauty about being "that person"--the only one your baby wants to calm her down or cuddle her, the one with all the answers when those tending can't figure her out, the one that gets to be her main life source--not to mention a certain exhaustion.
15. Life. Is. Beautiful.
2. Shots really stink (but how cute is it a few hours later when your daughter is mesmerized by the sparkly bandaid on her thigh and pulls it off herself when you didn't think she was even capable of intentionally grabbing things?).
3. Don't expect your daughter to like Pride and Prejudice until she is at least 18 (years, not months).
4. The giggling stage is the best one ever!
5. Maybe carrots are more delicious than I think they are. I think they are gross. Kevin loves them.
6. Being a single parent would seriously stink (and the life I live doesn't even come close to that...but on these days when Scott is gone from 7 am until 10:30 at night I say a prayer of gratitude for him and our marriage).
7. It isn't the end of the world when you misplace your camera. It just feels like it.
8. There will never ever ever be a day when your home is fully organized and clean. Ever.
9. Expect the unexpected: sometimes your child will surprise you (eight weeks early). Sometimes you will surprise yourself.
10. It's okay to decide to be D-O-N-E with nursing at six months when you've been hooked up to a machine like a dairy cow multiple times a day for multiple months because your baby didn't really get a chance to figure out the whole "nursing" thing before it was too late. Given the situation, six months is really good. Also, don't expect to be thanked for the task because chances are your daughter probably won't ever know what lengths you went to in order to give her the best possible chance at a healthy body. But it is nice to have a husband who supports and praises you even though he probably secretly thought for the last six months that you are 100% crazy. (I think he's a bit relieved that we both decided that should this situation arise again--meaning a baby who doesn't nurse--formula will be the. only. option.)
11. There is a certain magic about being the first person she sees when she wakes up in the morning. That First Smile is priceless.
12. You have to make the sounds when you read Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?
13. It's okay to stay in your pajamas past 10 am if you've been up in the middle of the night every night for the last week.
14. There is a certain beauty about being "that person"--the only one your baby wants to calm her down or cuddle her, the one with all the answers when those tending can't figure her out, the one that gets to be her main life source--not to mention a certain exhaustion.
15. Life. Is. Beautiful.
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