An Unexpected Free Hour, What to Do? What to Do? (And Our Christmas Tree)

I really should make yet another list. A list of what to do should I ever have unexpected free time. Little Man has a playdate. Little Girl is napping. I’m literally running around with my head cut off trying to accomplish too much in too little time, waiting to hear either crying or footsteps that my children are up and/or home. This means, of course, I’m not getting anything done.

I have been neglecting writing and recording my life as I know it. Because one day, if and when I ever re-enter the paid workforce, I am going to wonder what I did with “all that time” when I was a stay-at-home mom.

So in no particular order (because order is

[Drats! The Boy is home. But he is completely uninterested in me. I got a kiss and a request to have a playdate with some school friends and he has since disappeared to the playroom.]

continuation….(because order is something I must practice every day to be successful as it does not come naturally nor has it been a habit.)

• IM’ed with Danielle, a daily occurrence.
• Loved on Baby Girl
• Light Housekeeping – never-ending laundry & dishes
• Worked on my resume
• Paid bills and fretted over the Christmas budget, or lack thereof.
• Emptied the car of the bags of goodies after running errands all afternoon.
• Hung up Little Girl’s Christmas stocking – pretty pink, of course!
• Gas.
• Starbucks.
• Pet Store.
• Target – for Secret Santa gifts & a few groceries.
• Contemplated going to the Commissary but since I didn’t motivate until after lunch, there wasn’t enough time.
• Picked up the Boy at school & dropped him off at his playdate.
• Dinner.

My free hour was gone in an instant. So I’m back to my original idea of having a to do list for the unexpected time.

In the meantime, I still have Christmas cards to address. I have decided that I’m not going to write a newsletter his year. Frankly I’m not in the Christmas spirit this year. If I didn’t have children and the responsibility of creating the magic for them, I very much would be a non-celebrant. I’m trying to let go of my idea of a perfect Christmas since my ideal and my reality are not merging. Case in point, the Christmas tree excursion. We are now “proudly” displaying a table top 2.5 foot tree that the Boy picked out. I tried to persuade him at the tree lot to go bigger. Hubby, annoyed at the time, didn’t encourage him as he just wanted to get out of there. Some things are just not worth the argument, but I was very disappointed. In fact, I still get miffed every time I look at that tree. However, the Boy and his Gamie decorated the tree with ornaments that he has made over the years. They both enjoyed decorating. So in the end does it really matter if the tree was 2 feet or 6? Nope. I know this, I’m trying to let it go.

[Spoiled Wifey Note: So I wrote this 2 days ago, and just now getting around to posting because I wanted to include photos. I have since found my Christmas cheer, thanks to a shopping spree today (payday!) and opening a batch of Christmas cards from family & friends.]

The Boy helping with the tree stand.

The Boy helping with the lights.

Yes, it is perched on a Thomas table to keep Little Girl at arm's length. She is now pulling herself up!!

MORNING MADNESS!

Night Owl by nature. Procrastinator by choice. Children with mismatched sleep schedules.

All these contribute to MORNING MADNESS!

My weekday mornings are always chaotic. I wake up usually to a series of alarms and snoozes. Usually, I am slightly awake when the Hubby leaves for work. Today I thought I heard him say to the Boy, “Don’t let your Mom sleep in too late.” Oy! I was coherent enough to feel indignant, as I glanced at the bedside clock: 7:15am. So 45 minutes later, I was jolted from my slumber by the realization it is now 8:00am and we have 30 minutes before I must usher the Boy out the door for school. Insert a string of expletives. Instant action!

The mad dash begins.

Fighting off the feeling of tiredness and fuzzy brain, I walk around the house to assess the hierarchy of needs—my own and the family. I greet the Boy. I flip on the coffee pot. I press on the computer. I open the blinds. I listen for Little Girl. I consider the weather as I yell “Calm the [Expletive] down!” to the dogs, who are anxiously scratching at the door. Little Girl is awake but calmly playing in her crib (Thankfully!) so she gets pushed down the list while I tend to the dogs. Time check. 8:10am. I feed the Boy. (Arguably, we need to train him to get his own breakfast. He gets his own juice. Yet, I need to curb his juice intake. This life, my life, is always about striking a balance. Always. Because although no one is judging my parenting skills except myself, I know allowing too much juice consumption is bad. How do I know? Because the omniscient Mommy Police have decreed it so. Anyway, I’m a good mommy citizen and don’t want to be criticized for allowing my son to drink too much juice, risk having rotten teeth, drinking empty calories, and having too much sugar in his diet.)

8:15am

I attempt to calmly direct the Boy to get dressed after finishing his breakfast. I say calmly because while I am moving around with a sense of urgency, I recognize that this is not a good way to begin the day and don’t want to pass it on to the Boy. He unfortunately has been snapped at one too many times when I am, once again and forever more, late and he is being pokey. He knows the routine. He also knows that when the alarm sounds, for the last time in the morning, we need to be walking out the door within minutes to catch the bus.

I am clock-watching.

I assemble his snack and backpack. I rush to the bedroom and make myself look presentable, which essentially means I put a bra on (not that anyone knows whether I have a bra on since I’m wearing a coat. But putting a bra on means “game on” for me. Those mamas are contained and ready to face the day.). I dress with the clothes in grabbing distance (i.e. floor). If the hair is really unruly, a baseball cap can be a good friend.

Heart pulsing hard, I’m feeling agitated. I know the alarm for the bus is about to signal.

I waltz into Baby Girl’s room, to be greeted with a big smile and pure joy. Kisses all around! I change her diaper, keep her pajamas on for now and throw on her coat. And with that, the alarm begins to sound, just in time once again.

Out the door, we three go. [For the record, the Boy has only missed the bus once in the past three months.]

The wait at the bus stop is short. I have a pleasant chat with the neighborhood parents. With a wave to the Boy as he climbs onto the bus, Baby Girl and I return to the house to start our day. It’s time for coffee, to de-compress from the whirlwind 30 minutes, and map out our day.

So that Madness is my morning, every morning, for five days. It occurred to me the other day that I can make a few changes to help myself. To others, it must seem so straightforward and obvious. Go to bed earlier. Plan ahead the evening before. Wake up earlier and give myself more time. Yes, yes, thank you for your kind suggestions. But I want to have to do it. I have to choose to make those changes. Do I want Morning Madness or Calm?

While going to bed earlier is a worthy and probably rewarding endeavor, I think I’ll start with planning ahead. I will have everything ready in the morning, so when the signal sounds, I go! Ready, Set, Go Mama Go!

Spoiled Wifey Thanksgiving 2011

Our Menu:
Salted Roast Turkey with Herbs and Shallot-Dijon Gravy
Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Garlic and Pancetta
Green Beans with Chives
Cranberry Sauce
Leek and Wild Mushroom Stuffing
Mashed Potatoes
Rolls
Pumpkin, Pecan, & Cherry Pies from Heidelberg Bakery

In all of our married Thanksgivings, this year was the first that we had both of our parents here to celebrate and to feast. That in itself was special, especially considering that both moms had major health scares earlier this year. My Mother-in-Law decided on the menu and generously provided our dinner. Not only did she brave the grocery store for all the ingredients on Wednesday, she did most of the cooking, too. My parents played with the kids. I got to sleep, my favorite indulgence of late. I wish I slept for pure indulgence but that really wasn’t the case. I was unfortunately recovering from a particularly nasty cold/virus and feeling extremely rundown. Sleeping was a necessity. I think Hubby was in the Man Cave for most of the day but he did spend some time in the kitchen, too to help out his Mom.

To keep the Boy amused and to limit whining, one of the kid activities was a Dinosaur Skeleton Excavation Kit, which I think is designed to kill any dream of becoming a real paleontologist and to vex any mother who attempts to keep a clean house. The activity involves sawing away at a block and brush away debris until bones are revealed. Supposedly, there is an entire dinosaur skeleton that can be assembled. Gamie, Hubby and I all had our turn with the young wannabe paleontologist, made a huge mess in the process, and at the time of this posting have only discovered three bones, which are already misplaced. This activity did keep him out of the kitchen and out of our hair for awhile, so I begrudgingly must deem it a success, despite creating more work for myself with cleanup.

During their visit, Grandpa got to play Santa, bringing joy and gifts to our family by funding Grandma’s shopping habit. My mother is an emotional, recreational shopper and is addicted to the high of a good sale, regardless if she/we need it. (I have been trying to reverse my own aimless, shopping-for-entertainment trend for years.) Thankfully, along with my Dad’s intervention, my pleading over the years that I really don’t need any more stuff in my house and that I will only dispose of her gifts , not to mention we don’t have the same style in just about anything, I have finally gotten my message through to curb her shopping generosity towards me.

However, Grandma shopping for her grandkids is a different story. She wanted to direct her energy toward fulfilling my shopping list for the kids, which I find perfectly acceptable. Is it not their job to spoil the grandkids? And isn’t one of my job duties to counteract the spoilage? The kids were SPOILED all week with toys, and more importantly time and attention. Grandma and Grandpa attended the school book fair with the Boy before the holiday break and showed only enthusiasm as he brought a tower of books to the checkout line. Meanwhile, I’m in the background, breaking into a sweat from calculating how much that tower of books is going to set him back. Grandma outfitted Little Girl with socks, socks, and more socks and a new pair of shoes. She gave me only a mild titter when she saw the price tag - $29 for shoes (the most darling pair of Robeez!) but then couldn’t resist to also give me a lecture on how I have expensive tastes. I sighed internally and just smiled. I said nothing but thank you.

I enjoyed spending Thanksgiving with my parents and Mother-in-Law for their company but because they spoiled me, too. I always had a clean kitchen when I woke up in the morning. Someone took the dogs out in the morning. Someone rushed to the nursery at the slightest whimper. Someone read, read, and read some more to Little Boy. Someone let this Mommy sleep, sleep, and sleep some more. My Dad commented that I took a long time getting ready in the mornings—I did disappear for at least 45 glorious minutes – a long shower followed by applying lotion to my body, blow-drying AND styling my hair, and *gasp* applying makeup. I looked and felt terrific. I am rested and almost recovered from the cold, so much so I may just be ready to face Christmas, all its merriment, and my duties of creating magic.

My Mother is Waging a War Against Dog Hair and is Currently Holding Steady

I have admitted defeat when it comes to dog hair in my home. My mother has not.

My parents arrived a few days ago and my mother, upon realizing her precious granddaughter was crawling and doubling as a sweeper, immediately issued a search and destroy order on all things on the floor, mainly the @$#%@$% dog hair. Although there is no need to search. The hair is here, there, and everywhere!

It’s not that I don’t try to engage the combatant dog hair. I do sweep, just not daily. I have recently determined that daily sweeping is necessary, but I have made peace with the fact that I will not actually sweep as required. Furthermore, I have accepted that I have dogs who shed, who I alternately love and hate, and who are part of our family dynamic and therefore cannot be “accidentally locked out”, “lost” on a walk, or advertised as “great with children”.

We deal with dog hair. We don’t wear black. We shake out everything and/or use a hair remover roller before stepping out of the house. I am trying to get into a routine of combing the dogs outside on a semi-regular basis. I have bought stock in Swifter.

Now back to my Mother. As I type this, I spy her walking around my living room, completely engrossed in her mission, once again sweeping up hair for the third time today. I do appreciate her efforts. I really do. I just don’t make the time nor have the desire to constantly sweep what I consider a losing battle. I want clean but not at the expense of my time to do other things. So I engage in battle every other day, or when I can’t stand the sight of it, or I know I have company coming over.

When will I develop the zen of cleaning? It seems a lot of older women have this calm about them when it comes to cleaning. My grandmothers, my mother, and my mother-in-law tap into their inner resolve and this unbelievable energy reserve to clean, especially when they are at my house (And seriously my house is not a pigsty. I do clean, but I won’t ever pass a white glove inspection. I follow the philosophy of “Good Enough” and “Out of Sight, Out of Mind” ). Maybe it’s an unspoken but understood job duty of motherhood. Mothers, once they are on visiting status, help out their grown children by cleaning. Hmmm….I don’t know, but I’ll take it. My workload seems lighter and life on the Home-front seems so much easier when my mother or mother-in-law visits.

However, on the flipside, my mother’s quest for cleanliness is sometimes very dangerous. She now has had two skirmishes that could have been catastrophic for the family. The latest comes on Day 1 of her visit. The whole house slumbered while she stayed up to attack the kitchen. She cleaned the stovetop and then thinking she had won went to bed. Somehow the pilot light on the gas stove went out. I woke up in the middle of the night to tend to Baby Girl and was immediately assaulted with the smell of gas. Hubby re-lit the pilot light. Crisis averted. I hate to think what would have happened if we had an undetected gas leak all night.

My Mom deserves a medal and accolades for her determination and focused concentration against the enemy. Today the battle against dog hair has been won. But tomorrow, who will admit defeat and who will stand victorious? Hair or hair-free?

Sometimes My (In)Ability to Leave My Own House Amazes Even Me!

We just returned yesterday from a “weekend getaway” to New York for a family gathering. The family, aka The Filipino Nation, was gathering to mark the one-year anniversary of the passing of my grandmother. This was the first introduction of Baby Girl to the family, currently the newest member of the clan (although soon to be edged out by another great grandbaby due in March). Little Boy was extremely excited to play with his cousins. And Hubby was actually gracing us with his presence (It’s usually me & the kids at family gatherings since we are almost always travelling great distances and I have all the time in the world.).

I’m currently avoiding the unpacking.

Parents of young children know that going anywhere with children in tow usually requires planning and strategy. It really sucks if you are not a good planner or strategist. I’m not saying whether I’m good or bad, as my skills just depends on my mood, energy level, and time required. While I was excited about this trip, I was not excited about packing for it. Inevitably, because we were driving, I packed the entire house!

My packing list:
• Clothes for me & the children for 2 days (Hubby is on his own for packing.)
• Toiletries (And I STILL forgot to pack the Boy’s toothbrush. Yes, I know I can buy a new one, but it’s the time & money involved. It’s always the little expenses that will get you!)
• Diaper bag & Restocking Supplies
• Baby Food & all related items: spoons, bibs, sippy cups
• Items to Keep Baby Warm, Happy & Entertained: toys, teether, blankets
• Pack N Play
• Stroller
• Snacks & Juice for the car
• Toys, Books, Entertainment (iPad) for the Boy
• Reading Material for me on the off chance I actually get ANY time to myself to read. (Woo Hoo! I did get about 15 minutes to myself to read a few pages of the latest Oprah magazine.)

I also had to set up my GPS, make sure I had all contact information, and get my dogs situated. The dogs are almost just as much work as the kids. I used a pet-sitting service and couldn’t be more pleased. But still had to gather some items for the petsitter.

Add the laundry pile before the packing, and packing literally took me an entire day. Gone are the days of spontaneity. I don’t get too bent out of shape if I don’t have everything I need. I am a Mom; therefore, I can make do. “Mommy-Make-Do” is a great skill to have!

In the end, all the packing and preparation was in fact worth it, as our trip was “fun”. We survived with minimal fighting or tears (Me, that is!) My son was so happy. My daughter was not too fussy and was fascinated with the many new faces of family as she was passed around. My parents were thrilled to see their grandkids and to show them off to the rest of the family.

It will take me at least half a day to unpack from the latest adventure!
But I'm happy to be back home. Memories have been made. Cleaning needs to be done. I'm right on track for the mommy track. Ha!

SHE POOPS!!! Alternate Title: I Praise the Power of Prunes.

I never realized how much of my life would include dealing with shit! Literally.

We are at the baby stage in which one of my primary job duties is poop analysis: consistency and frequency. (And of course, there is poop clean-up, but that’s not really a stage, it’s a never-ending duty.) Little girl has been eating solids for the past two weeks. We started with rice cereal and applesauce and then moved to vegetables. Her favorite food thus far has been carrots.

Since she is the second child, I am much more relaxed about keeping track of things, one of which is the frequency of her bowel movements. Right from the get go, her regularity has been spaced out by days. So I was not surprised nor alarmed when she had not done her business in a few days. But then, extreme crankiness descended upon the house. Clearly, my little one felt very uncomfortable. Hmmm….after mentally reviewing the “what’s-wrong-with-baby” checklist, I noted that perhaps my preciousness might be constipated. She was not necessarily inconsolable, but definitely letting me know that she was not happy. The usual comforts from Mom were not cutting it.

So we had a series of bad nights of a lot of crying and restless sleeping….and that was just me. Ha! No seriously, she was up a lot. Midnight bath and tummy massage did temporarily relieve the pressure build-up and did allow for some sleep for both of us. I called the pediatrician’s office for advice on at home remedies as well as to make an appointment if those did not correct the problem. The nurse recommended apple juice and prunes. And if that did not solve it, then a glycerin suppository. I really hoped it did not come down to that.

Happily she sucked down apple juice for the first time. And prunes? Why they are delicious. Thank you, Mommy. Now I praise the power of prunes. I did not have to wait for long for the prunes to work its magic. Later in the afternoon, albeit it was an effort for her as conveyed with some very angry crying, she passed what can only be described as a golf ball of poop. Her bowel movement was the size of a golf ball and just about as hard. No wonder little girl was mad.

This is how I know I unabashedly embrace parenthood. I considered taking a picture and sending it the Hubby. I didn’t! I just thought about it. Instead I did give a full report to the Hubby which I’m sure made his day in between emails, meetings, and briefings.

But there is a cautionary note to this as well. Beware of prune power! Because apparently, I overloaded little girl with a little too much prunes. Her body obviously tried to self-correct its system. I had to deal with not one, but two blowouts soon thereafter the golf ball incident.

I haven’t decided which is worse – constipation crankiness or blowout battles that make me want to don on protective gear, throw everything out in a hurry, and dunk her in the bathtub.

For the time being, I do now have a happy girl. I am monitoring her poop schedule a little more closely as well as her diet. It’s the first bout of many, I’m sure.

He barely looked back at us as he climbed onto the school bus today.

Waiting in the rain at the bus stop.

The whole family is here. In a blink, she'll be ready for this day all too soon for this mama!

Only looking back because we are calling to him.

He barely looked back at us as he climbed onto the school bus today.

I’m happy that he is excited for kindergarten.

I’m sad that my baby boy is growing up and every day he needs his mama less and less.

I remind myself, especially on this milestone morning, that my reward as a mom is to raise an INDEPENDENT child, and it's the culmination of these little milestones that gets him ready to walk out the door and face the world, one day completely on his own. I want him to know that he is loved unconditionally. I want him to face the beauty and the ugliness of the world with his eyes open and with the ability to navigate through it all to the other side of a life well lived.

This mama just needs to breathe and let go a little. The world is not out to get him. Letting him get on the bus was a huge act of faith for me that everything will be alright, that this community will take care of him, that he is prepared to follow the gingerbread men to his classroom, that he will be kind and friendly to others, that he will make friends easily, that he will not get picked on.

I am also accepting that I will not know every little detail of what will happen to him in a day. I will not get a daily report from his teachers. What was said? What was he reaction? Was he an instigator? What made him nervous? Or embarrassed? Or joyful? What did he think was funny?

So as his sister naps and I have a few minutes of solitude, I wonder what he will tell me today when he comes home from school. What will he take away from today? Is today glorious and let’s do it all again? Was today overwhelming? Was it just another day? I am looking forward to seeing my Little Man soon. Deep breath. He will find his way home without mommy intervention.

On the other hand, I am not so serious as to not enjoy my new found freedom (at least while the Baby naps). I have already had a Starbucks run, uploaded photos, talked to friends, scheduled a long overdue Mommy coffee for this Friday, cleaned my kitchen, made my dinner & shopping lists for the week, fed my child, and hung out on Facebook. And the list continues into the afternoon but I am just taking a few minutes to reflect, to pause, to enjoy this milestone morning of mine.