Ok I know I know I've fallen way off the wagon again. Things are so totally out of control here these days that I'm lucky to locate the computer, much less sit down and type a word or two. And despite all the things I'd love to blog about, like my thoughts on gun control and same sex-marraige, my distaste for hard pretzels and all the silly antics of my kids, all I can really muster is an update. Here goes:
Since the last post, we had a baby (A BABY - and she's beautiful, we named her Caroline, but we call her Coco and she totally looks the part of a french fashion icon already), had her baptized (one of the last opportunities to be together with all of our family before flying west, it was a very special day), took a trip to Louisiana for a funeral (it was very important to me that we all go - even two-week-old Coco - and I'm so glad we could got to see the extended family we will miss so much when we are in CA. My grandfather passed before he got to meet Coco, but we did talk on the phone when I was still in the hospital with her, so that was important), and found a house (as in signed a lease and paid an exorbitant amount of money - via PayPal no less - to a guy we've only ever spoken to on the phone...um, craigslist scam?? i sure hope not).
Now, we're packing (it's a painful and protracted process), adjusting to life as five (some are having an easier time than others, but Coco has been and remains the lowest maintenance Perrinez - and that includes adults), saying goodbye (we haven't really started doing this actively, but it is always in the back of my head, that this time could be the last time, for a while), trying to navigate the California school system to get cleveland enrolled in kindergarten (school choice?? who knew?), train for the marathon (look for my plea for donations on Facebook coming this week), prepare for graduation (which basically just means finding something I fit in to wear), and generally find time to remind all the kids how much we love them, that they will see their books and toys again and that no, sleeping on the floor and living in the purgatory of our home will not last forever.
As for me, I feel like I'm being challenged to live in the moment; to embrace the rapid change and chaos that we've brought upon ourselves by introducing a new baby and a total life change in the last months of our time here. I find myself at times wishing moving day was here, just so we could put an end to this limbo-living we're doing. But I've lived long enough (and had enough psychotherapy) to know that embracing uncertainty, chaos, and change are essential to finding peace in any moment. And I. Need. Peace. And there's nothing not to like about my life.
Maybe my mom belly, but it's sunny out, so even that's tolerable.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Friday, March 8, 2013
A little like Rudyard Kipling
This is a story. If you know me well, you've probably already heard some iteration of this, but I've been thinking about it a lot lately and I don't think I ever really wrote about it. This is the story of "How Cleveland got his Glasses". (There's a moral, too!)
Preface: Cleveland was the sweetest most well behaved mild-mannered infant and young child. It was almost to the point of being concerning. (When he was six weeks old and still hadn't 'really cried', I asked my father if that warranted a neurology consult...he said no). He was just a sweet baby. A lot of babies are. In contrast, Lucie wasn't as docile. She cried. You know. All. The. Time. She cried so hard in Labor & Delivery that the nurses actually laughed at me as they placed her in my arms and I made what I'm sure was a completely horrified face.
*******************
So my children were different. That's not a surprise. Any parent with two or more children will tell you how different they all are. That being said, there were some differences that surprised me. These had less to do with the kids’ dispositions and were more behavioral. For example, when I breastfed Cleveland, I could do anything (literally anything) in tandem and he was never bothered. I especially remember watching television and observing that he was completely unengaged in it. At the time, I perceived this to be a reflection on my superior parenting skills☺ When Lucie was born, she was immediately interested in everything, and keeping her focused on breastfeeding was a challenge. I began using a feeding cover not for modesty but just to keep her on task.
There were a few other small things. I remember sitting on the couch feeding Lucie when her pacifier fell on the floor. I asked Cleveland to get it and noticed how much he struggled to find it. It was in a shadowed corner, however, and he was young. Maybe he just wasn’t paying attention to me. When Phil or I picked the kids up at daycare, Cleveland was often on the playground ‘trolling the fence’, as we referred to it. He was waiting for us. But I noticed that he didn’t run to the gate when we walked toward him the way so many other kids did. At least not until we called his name.
The moment it clicked came just a few days before his second birthday. We were playing with blocks on the living room floor and the television was tuned to PBS. (Of all things, it was a Bob Ross painting rerun!) Cleveland and I were sitting within feet of the television and several times I watched him turn his head in direction of the sound. Eventually he got up to explore, and went right up to the television, so that his nose was literally pressed against it. Phil came into the room and told him to move back. When he didn’t, Phil picked him up and sat him on the floor. He did it again, at least two more times. Finally Phil turned off the TV. I turned to him and said ‘I wonder if he can’t see it.’ For a moment, I think we both pondered this thought. It seemed entirely improbable. Still, Phil said ‘Well, let’s bring it up at his 2 year appointment next week’.
At the appointment (as so often happens), I was completely overwhelmed with information and immunizations and trying to breastfeed Lucie at the same time and I almost forgot to mention it. Thank goodness our provider asked if we had any additional concerns. Phil brought up that we were wondering about his vision. She cocked her head and asked if we ever noticed one of his eyes ‘turning’ in or out. ‘Um, no.’ She informed us that, generally, in children this small, vision deficits present with a lazy eye, because one eye is significantly weaker than the other, and effectively ‘turns off’. This becomes apparent to parents and can often be elicited in the doctor’s office by asking the child to focus on a picture held at a particular distance. Since we didn’t report this issue, and she wasn’t able to replicate it in the office, I could tell she was doubtful of any real issue. But she persisted and asked what made us think this. I relayed the stories of daycare pickup, the pacifier and the TV. She asked about family history of childhood eye issues. I piped up that my father had his eye patched as a child and wore glasses. Finally, she said in a supportive, though reluctant manner, that she would refer us to a pediatric ophthalmologist. She let us know that there was only one such person in the entire state (ha, Vermont!), and that we could expect at least three months before the appointment. As it happens, we received a call from the ophthalmologist’s office that week and had an appointment set up for later that month.
The eye appointment was in the afternoon. The kids and I picked up Phil from school and we all headed over. When we arrived, we learned that the appointment would be long involving dilation. I also realized that I’d forgotten Cleveland’s insurance card at home, and the receptionist was more than insistent that it needed to be processed today. So Lucie and I dropped the boys off and went home to get the card. When we returned, Cleveland had already been seen by a technician and had his eyes dilated, and he and Phil were waiting for the doctor’s exam. As I carried Lucie into the waiting room, my eyes met Phil’s, and he looked at me and gave me a quick shake of his head. I sat next to him.
‘What is it?’, I asked.
‘Em, he can’t see.’
‘What?’,
‘He can’t see’, Phil reiterated. ‘He’s effectively blind.’
(Hahahaha, I thought. No way.)
When we met with the doctor, she examined Cleveland’s eyes and gave us his prescription for glasses. She explained that the reason we hadn’t noticed one of his eyes turning was because he had an equal visual deficit; both eyes were equally bad. In fact, she told us she hadn’t ever diagnosed that degree of deficit in both eyes before. She applauded us for picking up on it, since without the lazy eye, it would be easy to miss. She assured us that Cleveland’s vision was correctable with glasses and that he would face no long-term consequences, other than having to wear glasses. She also told us that, had we waited another year before this became apparent, it was very possible that his vision would have been permanently damaged and not correctable. The reasons for this are complicated, but it involves how the eye and brain develop to form and understand images. Because Cleveland wasn’t able to focus on objects at close range, he couldn’t form an understanding of what they looked like from afar. (If you can’t see a picture of a school bus clearly, then you’ll never understand what an actual school bus looks like correctly.) If his condition were to go uncorrected, his brain would eventually lose the ability to make the connection between objects at close range and at distance. Basically, he was very far sighted, but this effectively rendered him near-sighted as well. And the only way to correct this was to bring objects at close range into focus so that, eventually, he could learn to recognize them at a distance.
The moment of truth: Despite Cleveland’s having been without glasses for two years, once we had a prescription in hand, Phil and I had a mutual compulsion to get him into glasses as soon as possible. We rushed to LensCrafters, chose frames (there weren’t many options for a child so small, though we did benefit from Cleveland’s larger than average-size head), and had a pair made on the spot. Initially, we were told we would have to wait a week or more since with his strong prescription, they didn’t have the capacity to build the glasses in house, so we were pleasantly surprised to hear that they would be ready ‘in about an hour’.
We waited in the mall, then went back to pick them up. The glasses were tried and fitted, and tried again. During this time, I asked the technician what we should do about him wanting to take them off all the time (if you have a two year old, this question will make sense, as I didn’t know Cleveland to leave anything on his head/face for more than a few seconds at a time). She replied ‘Oh, for kids who really don’t see well without the glasses, they usually don’t ever want to take them off. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to go to bed with them on.’ (She turned out to be right, and Cleveland has slept with them on his face or in a case next to him since that time). After the final fitting, Cleveland hopped out of Phil’s lap and walked to the store entrance. We followed, trying to gauge his reaction to this newly acquired sense. Once the carpet of the storefront changed to the tile of the main mall flooring, Cleveland immediately squatted down and started scratching at the tiles, his small fingers moving over and between the grooves of the variegated floor. I looked at Phil, tears in my eyes, realizing that this was the first time he was able to appreciate this degree of detail. He wandered a bit through the mall and we followed, letting him take in his surroundings as if for the first time. It was a magical moment.
********************
Epilogue: Months after this experience, when Phil was on his pediatric rotation, he had the opportunity to work with our pediatrician in the clinic. Prior to his first patient encounter, she reminded him that the most valuable thing in the exam room is the information the parent provides about the child. ‘Listen to them,’ she told him ‘Always listen to the mother; she knows the child in a way you never will. If she has a gut feeling, trust it.’
If there’s a moral to this story, it is to follow your parental instinct. In the chaos and uncertainty or parenthood, it’s so easy to ignore our gut feelings, and even easier to be swayed by people who feel/sound as though they have expertise that we don’t. The advice of others can be invaluable, but a good doctor knows that she can only base her advice on the quality of information that we, the parents provide. We must remind ourselves that, when it comes to our own children, we are the true (and only) experts. Phil and I are the only people in the world who have the knowledge, the insight and the incentive to recognize those characteristics in our children that may need to be addressed. And we don’t just have a right to express our concerns to our pediatrician, or our teacher, or our nanny or friends. We have an absolute obligation.
We are the parents. We brought our children into this world, and in doing so, we became obligated to them.
However thankless parenthood can sometimes feel, the truth is our children owe us nothing.
We owe them everything.
Cleveland in August, 2010, on his 2nd Birthday, 12 days before getting his first pair of glasses.
October, 2010, sporting his handsome specs, and taking in the fall leaves.
Preface: Cleveland was the sweetest most well behaved mild-mannered infant and young child. It was almost to the point of being concerning. (When he was six weeks old and still hadn't 'really cried', I asked my father if that warranted a neurology consult...he said no). He was just a sweet baby. A lot of babies are. In contrast, Lucie wasn't as docile. She cried. You know. All. The. Time. She cried so hard in Labor & Delivery that the nurses actually laughed at me as they placed her in my arms and I made what I'm sure was a completely horrified face.
*******************
So my children were different. That's not a surprise. Any parent with two or more children will tell you how different they all are. That being said, there were some differences that surprised me. These had less to do with the kids’ dispositions and were more behavioral. For example, when I breastfed Cleveland, I could do anything (literally anything) in tandem and he was never bothered. I especially remember watching television and observing that he was completely unengaged in it. At the time, I perceived this to be a reflection on my superior parenting skills☺ When Lucie was born, she was immediately interested in everything, and keeping her focused on breastfeeding was a challenge. I began using a feeding cover not for modesty but just to keep her on task.
There were a few other small things. I remember sitting on the couch feeding Lucie when her pacifier fell on the floor. I asked Cleveland to get it and noticed how much he struggled to find it. It was in a shadowed corner, however, and he was young. Maybe he just wasn’t paying attention to me. When Phil or I picked the kids up at daycare, Cleveland was often on the playground ‘trolling the fence’, as we referred to it. He was waiting for us. But I noticed that he didn’t run to the gate when we walked toward him the way so many other kids did. At least not until we called his name.
The moment it clicked came just a few days before his second birthday. We were playing with blocks on the living room floor and the television was tuned to PBS. (Of all things, it was a Bob Ross painting rerun!) Cleveland and I were sitting within feet of the television and several times I watched him turn his head in direction of the sound. Eventually he got up to explore, and went right up to the television, so that his nose was literally pressed against it. Phil came into the room and told him to move back. When he didn’t, Phil picked him up and sat him on the floor. He did it again, at least two more times. Finally Phil turned off the TV. I turned to him and said ‘I wonder if he can’t see it.’ For a moment, I think we both pondered this thought. It seemed entirely improbable. Still, Phil said ‘Well, let’s bring it up at his 2 year appointment next week’.
At the appointment (as so often happens), I was completely overwhelmed with information and immunizations and trying to breastfeed Lucie at the same time and I almost forgot to mention it. Thank goodness our provider asked if we had any additional concerns. Phil brought up that we were wondering about his vision. She cocked her head and asked if we ever noticed one of his eyes ‘turning’ in or out. ‘Um, no.’ She informed us that, generally, in children this small, vision deficits present with a lazy eye, because one eye is significantly weaker than the other, and effectively ‘turns off’. This becomes apparent to parents and can often be elicited in the doctor’s office by asking the child to focus on a picture held at a particular distance. Since we didn’t report this issue, and she wasn’t able to replicate it in the office, I could tell she was doubtful of any real issue. But she persisted and asked what made us think this. I relayed the stories of daycare pickup, the pacifier and the TV. She asked about family history of childhood eye issues. I piped up that my father had his eye patched as a child and wore glasses. Finally, she said in a supportive, though reluctant manner, that she would refer us to a pediatric ophthalmologist. She let us know that there was only one such person in the entire state (ha, Vermont!), and that we could expect at least three months before the appointment. As it happens, we received a call from the ophthalmologist’s office that week and had an appointment set up for later that month.
The eye appointment was in the afternoon. The kids and I picked up Phil from school and we all headed over. When we arrived, we learned that the appointment would be long involving dilation. I also realized that I’d forgotten Cleveland’s insurance card at home, and the receptionist was more than insistent that it needed to be processed today. So Lucie and I dropped the boys off and went home to get the card. When we returned, Cleveland had already been seen by a technician and had his eyes dilated, and he and Phil were waiting for the doctor’s exam. As I carried Lucie into the waiting room, my eyes met Phil’s, and he looked at me and gave me a quick shake of his head. I sat next to him.
‘What is it?’, I asked.
‘Em, he can’t see.’
‘What?’,
‘He can’t see’, Phil reiterated. ‘He’s effectively blind.’
(Hahahaha, I thought. No way.)
When we met with the doctor, she examined Cleveland’s eyes and gave us his prescription for glasses. She explained that the reason we hadn’t noticed one of his eyes turning was because he had an equal visual deficit; both eyes were equally bad. In fact, she told us she hadn’t ever diagnosed that degree of deficit in both eyes before. She applauded us for picking up on it, since without the lazy eye, it would be easy to miss. She assured us that Cleveland’s vision was correctable with glasses and that he would face no long-term consequences, other than having to wear glasses. She also told us that, had we waited another year before this became apparent, it was very possible that his vision would have been permanently damaged and not correctable. The reasons for this are complicated, but it involves how the eye and brain develop to form and understand images. Because Cleveland wasn’t able to focus on objects at close range, he couldn’t form an understanding of what they looked like from afar. (If you can’t see a picture of a school bus clearly, then you’ll never understand what an actual school bus looks like correctly.) If his condition were to go uncorrected, his brain would eventually lose the ability to make the connection between objects at close range and at distance. Basically, he was very far sighted, but this effectively rendered him near-sighted as well. And the only way to correct this was to bring objects at close range into focus so that, eventually, he could learn to recognize them at a distance.
The moment of truth: Despite Cleveland’s having been without glasses for two years, once we had a prescription in hand, Phil and I had a mutual compulsion to get him into glasses as soon as possible. We rushed to LensCrafters, chose frames (there weren’t many options for a child so small, though we did benefit from Cleveland’s larger than average-size head), and had a pair made on the spot. Initially, we were told we would have to wait a week or more since with his strong prescription, they didn’t have the capacity to build the glasses in house, so we were pleasantly surprised to hear that they would be ready ‘in about an hour’.
We waited in the mall, then went back to pick them up. The glasses were tried and fitted, and tried again. During this time, I asked the technician what we should do about him wanting to take them off all the time (if you have a two year old, this question will make sense, as I didn’t know Cleveland to leave anything on his head/face for more than a few seconds at a time). She replied ‘Oh, for kids who really don’t see well without the glasses, they usually don’t ever want to take them off. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to go to bed with them on.’ (She turned out to be right, and Cleveland has slept with them on his face or in a case next to him since that time). After the final fitting, Cleveland hopped out of Phil’s lap and walked to the store entrance. We followed, trying to gauge his reaction to this newly acquired sense. Once the carpet of the storefront changed to the tile of the main mall flooring, Cleveland immediately squatted down and started scratching at the tiles, his small fingers moving over and between the grooves of the variegated floor. I looked at Phil, tears in my eyes, realizing that this was the first time he was able to appreciate this degree of detail. He wandered a bit through the mall and we followed, letting him take in his surroundings as if for the first time. It was a magical moment.
********************
Epilogue: Months after this experience, when Phil was on his pediatric rotation, he had the opportunity to work with our pediatrician in the clinic. Prior to his first patient encounter, she reminded him that the most valuable thing in the exam room is the information the parent provides about the child. ‘Listen to them,’ she told him ‘Always listen to the mother; she knows the child in a way you never will. If she has a gut feeling, trust it.’
If there’s a moral to this story, it is to follow your parental instinct. In the chaos and uncertainty or parenthood, it’s so easy to ignore our gut feelings, and even easier to be swayed by people who feel/sound as though they have expertise that we don’t. The advice of others can be invaluable, but a good doctor knows that she can only base her advice on the quality of information that we, the parents provide. We must remind ourselves that, when it comes to our own children, we are the true (and only) experts. Phil and I are the only people in the world who have the knowledge, the insight and the incentive to recognize those characteristics in our children that may need to be addressed. And we don’t just have a right to express our concerns to our pediatrician, or our teacher, or our nanny or friends. We have an absolute obligation.
We are the parents. We brought our children into this world, and in doing so, we became obligated to them.
However thankless parenthood can sometimes feel, the truth is our children owe us nothing.
We owe them everything.
Cleveland in August, 2010, on his 2nd Birthday, 12 days before getting his first pair of glasses.
October, 2010, sporting his handsome specs, and taking in the fall leaves.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
A few thoughts
Phil's coming home. Right. Now. He's on a bus and soon he'll be in the car, and he should be here this afternoon, in time for play and dinner and bath (since I'm now letting myself off the hook for these until, like, 2020). And it's great. Here's the welcome home poster the kids made him:
I have to give credit to Jamie (nanny) for her help with this. I'm sure you can glean who was responsible for which portions. Cleveland did some very expert scribbling in one corner, and when I asked what he wrote, he pointed to a section and said "This says 'Welcome Home Papa!', and this part says 'Now go to work papa!'". Ha.
I've been on a bit of a cleaning frenzy this week, and a little pre-nesting frenzy, as well. Had a friend help me move some furniture around for baby, and bought and set up a pack n' play, washed a bunch of baby clothes, and then washed some cloth diapers I bought on EBay (oops!). things are getting put away, as best you can put away when you know you'll just be packing up again a few weeks after you get it set up. The blessing in disguise of the day, which probably accounts for 75% of my joy is that I think I broke the vacuum (just a little bit, but enough that I'm not gonna try to fix it). So...I guess clean-up is done. Time to hang the poster, hang with the kids, and enjoy reunion day!
I also have to celebrate occasionally feeling beautiful in the third trimester. I did get my hair done yesterday, so yea, that helps. Happy 34 weeks to me et bébé! (the kids still think my outie belly button IS the baby...boy are they in for a surprise):
I have to give credit to Jamie (nanny) for her help with this. I'm sure you can glean who was responsible for which portions. Cleveland did some very expert scribbling in one corner, and when I asked what he wrote, he pointed to a section and said "This says 'Welcome Home Papa!', and this part says 'Now go to work papa!'". Ha.
I've been on a bit of a cleaning frenzy this week, and a little pre-nesting frenzy, as well. Had a friend help me move some furniture around for baby, and bought and set up a pack n' play, washed a bunch of baby clothes, and then washed some cloth diapers I bought on EBay (oops!). things are getting put away, as best you can put away when you know you'll just be packing up again a few weeks after you get it set up. The blessing in disguise of the day, which probably accounts for 75% of my joy is that I think I broke the vacuum (just a little bit, but enough that I'm not gonna try to fix it). So...I guess clean-up is done. Time to hang the poster, hang with the kids, and enjoy reunion day!
I also have to celebrate occasionally feeling beautiful in the third trimester. I did get my hair done yesterday, so yea, that helps. Happy 34 weeks to me et bébé! (the kids still think my outie belly button IS the baby...boy are they in for a surprise):
Friday, February 22, 2013
What a difference...
...a few days make. In my last post, I gave our projected timeline of events, beginning with my going out on maternity March 22. As it turns out, here it is February 21, and I've been home for a week now. At my appointment last Friday, my provider strongly recommended I begin my leave this week, over some concerns around fetal growth. She also took one look at my wan, exhausted face and recognized a woman who just needed a break. And citing my exhaustion (and complaints of an 'irritable uterus'), she ordered me for general rest, effective immediately. This news was surprising, overwhelming, and, ultimately, a complete relief. The baby is fine by the way.
The last three weeks that have truly tested me, as a mother, spouse, friend, and colleague. I totally started phoning it in at work, found myself irritable with my kids, a complete basket-case with friends, and a supportive, though tearful and somewhat irrational wife when Phil and I were able to talk (which has been infrequent, to say the least). And while the sudden news that I would be staying home with my kids instead of heading to work everyday brings its own set of challenges, this first week has only reinforced for me my desire to continue as an at-home mama once we move. Granted I haven't been totally work-free (I did go in on Tuesday and Thursday for some transitional meetings, and to clean out my desk...of all the snacks I had hoarded in it). And I still have two emails to send, and one document to finish up, but I am, effectively, done.
I'm not deluded into thinking that being at home full-time will be a walk in the park. I know plenty of at-home parents who acknowledge that having some scheduled 'time away' at least weekly (even if it came in the form of a job) would feel like a gift. And I have appreciated and enjoyed the hybrid-parental role I've assumed since we've lived here. But when I took this job one year ago, I went from working part-time off-hours (which afforded me ample kid-time), to a regular M-F gig, which usurped my energy and focus away from them (not to mention an obscene amount of money to afford the full-time childcare we suddenly required).
I hadn't anticipated how much my job satisfaction would be affected by how dissatisfying my home life began to feel. Everything was a chore, and I was always rushing and always late and always cranky and hungry and oh-so-tired and spent so much time thinking about work and myself that I felt I hardly noticed my kids until they started acting like demons, presumably so someone would pay attention to them. I went from feeling like work was a choice I was making to feeling powerless and enslaved by circumstances beyond my control. I felt resentment and jealousy towards my at-home parent friends whose lives I perceived to be 'easier', and who didn't have to accomplish half a day's work before 7:30am. I was even jealous of our nanny at times, when she would send me pictures of my kids playing in the park, and I realized that, more than seeing them enjoying themselves, I wanted to be the one who got to take them, and experience that joy first-hand.
Phil was well aware of my discontent, and we often talked about how, even in less than ideal circumstances, one's frame of mind is the largest determinant of happiness. That is, if I could just enjoy the time I did get, and be generally less of a grump (glass half-full business), things would be better. He was right. A lot right. A Whole Lot Right. My life was not the most challenging on the planet, and the pleasures didn't need to feel so few and far between. And I didn't know how to get out of that funk without help.
One week ago, a little gift of help floated down for me. It's one of many, I now realize. The truth is, the world has been endlessly kind and patient towards me. My friends have always supported and never judged (at least not out loud), and when Phil and I spoke last Friday, he told me that was so happy for me to stop working, because he now truly believes it's what I want (and that I'm not just having an extended grass-is-always-greener moment. I've been known to do that.)
These are gifts, right? Right. For that, the only thing left to say is 'Thank you'.
The last three weeks that have truly tested me, as a mother, spouse, friend, and colleague. I totally started phoning it in at work, found myself irritable with my kids, a complete basket-case with friends, and a supportive, though tearful and somewhat irrational wife when Phil and I were able to talk (which has been infrequent, to say the least). And while the sudden news that I would be staying home with my kids instead of heading to work everyday brings its own set of challenges, this first week has only reinforced for me my desire to continue as an at-home mama once we move. Granted I haven't been totally work-free (I did go in on Tuesday and Thursday for some transitional meetings, and to clean out my desk...of all the snacks I had hoarded in it). And I still have two emails to send, and one document to finish up, but I am, effectively, done.
I'm not deluded into thinking that being at home full-time will be a walk in the park. I know plenty of at-home parents who acknowledge that having some scheduled 'time away' at least weekly (even if it came in the form of a job) would feel like a gift. And I have appreciated and enjoyed the hybrid-parental role I've assumed since we've lived here. But when I took this job one year ago, I went from working part-time off-hours (which afforded me ample kid-time), to a regular M-F gig, which usurped my energy and focus away from them (not to mention an obscene amount of money to afford the full-time childcare we suddenly required).
I hadn't anticipated how much my job satisfaction would be affected by how dissatisfying my home life began to feel. Everything was a chore, and I was always rushing and always late and always cranky and hungry and oh-so-tired and spent so much time thinking about work and myself that I felt I hardly noticed my kids until they started acting like demons, presumably so someone would pay attention to them. I went from feeling like work was a choice I was making to feeling powerless and enslaved by circumstances beyond my control. I felt resentment and jealousy towards my at-home parent friends whose lives I perceived to be 'easier', and who didn't have to accomplish half a day's work before 7:30am. I was even jealous of our nanny at times, when she would send me pictures of my kids playing in the park, and I realized that, more than seeing them enjoying themselves, I wanted to be the one who got to take them, and experience that joy first-hand.
Phil was well aware of my discontent, and we often talked about how, even in less than ideal circumstances, one's frame of mind is the largest determinant of happiness. That is, if I could just enjoy the time I did get, and be generally less of a grump (glass half-full business), things would be better. He was right. A lot right. A Whole Lot Right. My life was not the most challenging on the planet, and the pleasures didn't need to feel so few and far between. And I didn't know how to get out of that funk without help.
One week ago, a little gift of help floated down for me. It's one of many, I now realize. The truth is, the world has been endlessly kind and patient towards me. My friends have always supported and never judged (at least not out loud), and when Phil and I spoke last Friday, he told me that was so happy for me to stop working, because he now truly believes it's what I want (and that I'm not just having an extended grass-is-always-greener moment. I've been known to do that.)
These are gifts, right? Right. For that, the only thing left to say is 'Thank you'.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Getting Back on Track
Since it’s been nearly two years since I last posted here, on a blog that I only ever kept active for one year, I figure it’s time to get going again. The reasons I started the blog were simple; I had things to say, and I thought they were worth sharing, and that somebody would want to read them. The reasons I stopped were simpler: I switched my hours at work, seriously limiting my time to write, and babies and other commitments just became one long excuse to forgo it. I planned to return at the one-year anniversary of my hiatus, but that came and went as I applied for a new position, started it, and life seemed to get more complicated and busy.
But I’m back. Today. It’s February 10, 2013 and I’ve returned. It’s not because things have slowed down and I suddenly find myself with the time I’ve been missing. In fact it’s quite the opposite (see below). But now, of all times, the blog itch has returned. I’ve tried to put it away, but it’s been nagging me for several weeks. So I figured it was a sign that I had something to say again. Or at least that writing would prove valuable to me, if not to those who might read this.
So consider this the great update post. Things have changed since February, 2011. I did run the marathon (I was training in my last post). It was remarkable to actually accomplish it, great fun to train with my good friend, and exciting to share the experience with my husband. And maybe I’ll do it again…maybe. I’ve run some other short races since then, and I’m definitely game for a ½ marathon at some point. But at the moment…
Cleveland is 4 ½, and I officially can’t remember my life before he was born. He’s the embodiment of a little superhero. Mild-mannered, astute, intuitive, and genuinely kind. Also he has web shooters in his hands and complete command over his force-field.
Lucie turned 3 last month. She’s a big girl (she’s known this for some time), though I would emphasize the girl more than the big. While still enjoying several pursuits of her brother’s (cars, trucks, trains and blocks), her interests have begun to diverge, and princess costumes often replace superhero capes. She’s verbose and cute and also could teach a seminar on dawdling.
Phil will graduate medical school in May. After that we’re heading to San Diego for him to begin residency in Internal Medicine at Balboa Naval Medical Center (because he’s on a Navy scholarship…did I ever write that in the blog?…I don’t know…well, he is, and so we are). He’s traveled for 3 months out of the past 11. In March/April, 2012, he was in Rhode Island for Officer Training, then last October he was in San Diego doing a rotation in radiology, and he’s currently in Honduras doing a tropical medicine rotation. The experience of having him be away for semi-extended periods definitely deserves its own post, so let’s table that.
Personally, I took a non-nursing but still health-care related job about a year ago. It turned our lives around, since I began working regular hours and full-time, instead of part-time evenings nursing. We went through several iterations of child-care, before deciding on a hybrid model of 2 days/week in daycare (we call it preschool – roll with it), and 3 days/week at home with a nanny. This has been challenging; The working and mommying and supporting med-student/naval officer spouse. (I mean, let’s face it; motherhood is challenging, however you classify the work that you do, and however much you do or do not get paid to do it.) That being said, I’m ready to wrap up this part of my life/career and spend some time at home with the kids. And the timing works well, since as it happens I’m 32 weeks pregnant with baby number 3. Hip hip hooray! Yes, we did plan it this way (despite the, how shall I say, challenging timing). No we don’t know if it’s a boy or girl, and no we haven’t picked out names. Yes I look as swollen and plump as a women who might have her baby tomorrow, and no, that won’t happen, so no need to question me when I say I’m due in early April. I didn’t misspeak. I know how to count to 40.
So the grand plan is something like this:
-Work for another 6 weeks.
-Maternity leave begins on March 22nd
-Plan for the move/pack/figure out how to be a military spouse (I think there are rules involved) during this time, as well.
-Have baby. (Don’t come early baby, no seriously, I need those two weeks of maternity leave before you come to get things done. Also if you’re born more than two weeks early, we’ll have to COBRA our benefits for the month of May...)
-Find a place to live. One that’s ‘affordable’ in the way only San Diego housing can be.
-Enjoy baby (Phil is taking April as a paternity month, which is amazing, since he took less than one week off after Cleveland was born, and less than one day off with Lucie, which is to say, he missed an exam).
-Get Phil through the end of school, graduation (5/19), and the Vermont City Marathon (5/26 - because, you know, he wants to run again, and why not?)
-Pack the presumptive moving truck.
-Say goodbye to Phil when he hits the road to drive to CA (around 5/28)
-Get on a plane, with C, L and new baby, and my mom (PS-we bought our tickets!!)
-Thrive in a new city on a new coast in a state I’ve never seen with weather I don’t believe exists.
The journey continues. It’s good to be sharing it again.
But I’m back. Today. It’s February 10, 2013 and I’ve returned. It’s not because things have slowed down and I suddenly find myself with the time I’ve been missing. In fact it’s quite the opposite (see below). But now, of all times, the blog itch has returned. I’ve tried to put it away, but it’s been nagging me for several weeks. So I figured it was a sign that I had something to say again. Or at least that writing would prove valuable to me, if not to those who might read this.
So consider this the great update post. Things have changed since February, 2011. I did run the marathon (I was training in my last post). It was remarkable to actually accomplish it, great fun to train with my good friend, and exciting to share the experience with my husband. And maybe I’ll do it again…maybe. I’ve run some other short races since then, and I’m definitely game for a ½ marathon at some point. But at the moment…
Cleveland is 4 ½, and I officially can’t remember my life before he was born. He’s the embodiment of a little superhero. Mild-mannered, astute, intuitive, and genuinely kind. Also he has web shooters in his hands and complete command over his force-field.
Lucie turned 3 last month. She’s a big girl (she’s known this for some time), though I would emphasize the girl more than the big. While still enjoying several pursuits of her brother’s (cars, trucks, trains and blocks), her interests have begun to diverge, and princess costumes often replace superhero capes. She’s verbose and cute and also could teach a seminar on dawdling.
Phil will graduate medical school in May. After that we’re heading to San Diego for him to begin residency in Internal Medicine at Balboa Naval Medical Center (because he’s on a Navy scholarship…did I ever write that in the blog?…I don’t know…well, he is, and so we are). He’s traveled for 3 months out of the past 11. In March/April, 2012, he was in Rhode Island for Officer Training, then last October he was in San Diego doing a rotation in radiology, and he’s currently in Honduras doing a tropical medicine rotation. The experience of having him be away for semi-extended periods definitely deserves its own post, so let’s table that.
Personally, I took a non-nursing but still health-care related job about a year ago. It turned our lives around, since I began working regular hours and full-time, instead of part-time evenings nursing. We went through several iterations of child-care, before deciding on a hybrid model of 2 days/week in daycare (we call it preschool – roll with it), and 3 days/week at home with a nanny. This has been challenging; The working and mommying and supporting med-student/naval officer spouse. (I mean, let’s face it; motherhood is challenging, however you classify the work that you do, and however much you do or do not get paid to do it.) That being said, I’m ready to wrap up this part of my life/career and spend some time at home with the kids. And the timing works well, since as it happens I’m 32 weeks pregnant with baby number 3. Hip hip hooray! Yes, we did plan it this way (despite the, how shall I say, challenging timing). No we don’t know if it’s a boy or girl, and no we haven’t picked out names. Yes I look as swollen and plump as a women who might have her baby tomorrow, and no, that won’t happen, so no need to question me when I say I’m due in early April. I didn’t misspeak. I know how to count to 40.
So the grand plan is something like this:
-Work for another 6 weeks.
-Maternity leave begins on March 22nd
-Plan for the move/pack/figure out how to be a military spouse (I think there are rules involved) during this time, as well.
-Have baby. (Don’t come early baby, no seriously, I need those two weeks of maternity leave before you come to get things done. Also if you’re born more than two weeks early, we’ll have to COBRA our benefits for the month of May...)
-Find a place to live. One that’s ‘affordable’ in the way only San Diego housing can be.
-Enjoy baby (Phil is taking April as a paternity month, which is amazing, since he took less than one week off after Cleveland was born, and less than one day off with Lucie, which is to say, he missed an exam).
-Get Phil through the end of school, graduation (5/19), and the Vermont City Marathon (5/26 - because, you know, he wants to run again, and why not?)
-Pack the presumptive moving truck.
-Say goodbye to Phil when he hits the road to drive to CA (around 5/28)
-Get on a plane, with C, L and new baby, and my mom (PS-we bought our tickets!!)
-Thrive in a new city on a new coast in a state I’ve never seen with weather I don’t believe exists.
The journey continues. It’s good to be sharing it again.
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