I've got a couple of friends who are new parents and parents to-be. As somebody who's been a new parent, I recall vividly the lost feeling of arriving home with Alexandria, wondering exactly what we were supposed to do. Conceptually, I understood that we'd undertaken the most challenging task of our lives, but she was just sort of sleeping. Wasn't something supposed to happen?
I recall feeling nervous the first night, since we'd already experienced two sleepless nights in the hospital. I felt unsure and insecure in the face of a 7 lb. person who could only cry. The next few months would not be any different.
Two weeks into our parenting adventure, I realized that I hadn't slept more than 4 hours uninterrupted, yet I drove, made food, did laundry, and attempted to keep house. I operated in constant state of sleep deprivation. About a month into it, all of my stores of joy and excitement were depleted. I took the night shift, and stayed up until 12 or 1 am for the midnight feeding. Many nights, I simply could not console our little girl back to sleep. She cried, screamed, and wailed, and I could only hold her helplessly, many times in tears. She often worked herself into such a hunger-induced frenzy that she didn't realize for many minutes that she could nurse. I would sit exposed with a crying baby at my chest, weeping, praying for her to latch on.
It was not fun. It was not fun at all. Until I joined a Baby and Me class, I didn't know that EVERY other parent shared a similar version of the same experience. I needed that information. I needed to know there was nothing wrong with me. I needed to know that I was doing a good job, but that parenting is really tough. I learned that some days you might not want to get out of bed, and that's OK. There might even be a part of you that resents this little person who won't let you sleep. If you're concerned about the way you feel, consult your doctor.
So, my unsolicited advice to new parents is to drop the myth. Just forget everything you heard about this being the happiest time of your life.
The first few months with a baby may not be "fun." Your baby eats, sleeps, and poops. You are the sole provider of everything, and she gives little or nothing in return. No smiles, rolling over, laughing...nothing. You experience the bittersweetness of switching out Newborn clothes to 0-3 Months, and upward. You get excited when she drinks 6 oz. for the first time. She'll never be 8 pounds again! But it's not fun. You may feel too exhausted to enjoy it.
If you don't feel like every day is Sunshine & Roses, you're not alone. Millions of parents feel the same way. How can anyone be expected to feel joy while operating on 13 hours sleep in 4 days? You love this kid so much and would lie on the tracks for them, but man, if they would only let you sleep once through the night!
Here's what I'll tell you, though. It ends. I found that around 3 months, parenting starts getting fun. You'll wake up one morning and realize, "I didn't get up last night. She slept through the night!" They begin to smile, coo, and giggle. They recognize you. They start doing "cute" things, like putting rings in their mouths and shaking rattles. From there, life gets crazier, and exponentially more exciting.
Remember that there's nobody in this world that will hold, kiss, hug, or tuck your child in more than you. There is nobody in this world that your child trusts more than you. It's not a small undertaking. At the beginning, though, keep it simple. As a new parent, your job is to keep your baby fed and clean. Your job is to hold her and talk to her and comfort her. If you're doing these things, you're doing great! You're kind of like a robot (get up, feed, put to sleep, get some sleep, eat, sleep, get up, feed, put to sleep...), and in that role, you're doing everything your child needs. Laying the foundation is not as exciting as building the house, but without it, the house will fall. Build your foundation of love and trust, and your child will grow.
It gets easier and more rewarding, you just have to slog through these first few months. Go easy on yourself. That first smile makes it all worth it. I promise.
Love,
Natalie
10.07.2010
10.04.2010
Just Another Day
Dear World,
I am lucky enough to be a stay-at-home-mom. What that generally entails is sleeping in, eating a late breakfast, catching The View, chatting with girlfriends on the phone, going out for lunch, an afternoon run or trip to the gym, 5 o'clock glass of wine, early dinner, reading, and bed by 10. It's pretty nice.
Hahahahah!
I decided to track my day, minute for minute, to really catch a glimpse in the life of a hands-on stay-at-home-mom.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
5:30 - Marcus wakes up waaaaay too early. Dave gets up with him, brings him in bed with us.
6:30 - Marcus wakes me up. Start your engines.
6:35 - First cup of coffee, watch Marcus play
6:45 - Stand on the patio and catch 58 seconds of a gorgeous sunrise before I'm needed again.
7:30 - Make breakfast for Marcus. Steel-cut oatmeal with peanut butter and 1/2 banana and strawberry yogurt
7:45 - Alexandria wakes up
7:50 - Make my last cup of coffee
7:55 - Make breakfast for Alexandria. Cereal with milk and 1/2 banana, orange juice, and water
8:05 - Dave leaves for work
8:11 - Marcus shows signs that he needs a nap
8:14 - Continue laundry, fold clean clothes
8:22 - Put clean clothes away, make my bed
8:30 - Alexandria and I create an activity on the computer where she takes "inventory" of household items (lamps, pillows, chairs, doors, etc). The word is accompanied by a picture of the item. She chooses every picture.
9:00 - Alexandria takes "inventory" of household items
9:12 - I eat a breakfast of cereal, milk, 1/2 banana, and green juice
9:19 - Clean up from breakfast
9:21 - Alexandria asks for orange juice with food coloring
9:27 - I get to brush my teeth and take my vitamins
9:28 - Alexandria needs a band-aid
9:34 - Rotate laundry, fold clean laundry
9:43 - Alexandria done with inventory
9:45 - Begin making sunflower and zinnia seed terrariums
10:12 - Clean up from terrarium project
10:16 - Alexandria begins decorating a straw hat with leftover craft supplies
10:21 - I get dressed
10:29 - Read one article on Huffington Post!10:33 - Rotate laundry, begin folding laundry
10:39 - Alexandria needs a snack
10:48 - Finish folding laundry
10:49 - I get a snack! Fat-free strawberry yogurt, crackers, and 22 oz water.
10:57 - Begin recopying notes. Just kidding. Alexandria wants "help" with her hat
11:06 - Recopy notes, 2nd attempt
11:11 - Alexandria needs help.
11:16 - Alexandria does not need help. She just wants me to sit there while she ate her snack. We agree that I can sit 2 yards away from her while recopying my notes.
11:23 - Alexandria done with her hat11:30 - Marcus wakes up, Alexandria directed to begin picking up from the hat project. I get Marcus dressed.
11:35 - Alexandria is finished cleaning up from her project, and is asked to pick out clothes for our outing to the beach. I finish cleaning up from the morning projects.
11:59 - Alexandria still not dressed, but does not want my help. Both kids are playing upstairs. I circulate the aquarium water.
12:30 - We finally leave the house, packed with snacks (2 apples, string cheese, small pita rounds, pretzels, and edamame) We bring water, sunscreen, and hats.
outing... flea market, walk along the beach, play at the beach playground, sand too hot, kids are hot and cranky, and the elevator in the parking structure is broken.
2:37 - We're home. We unload the car, get cool drinks, change out of hot clothes.
2:45 - Dave calls. We plan the next two months around his travel schedule, including Alexandria's birthday. Alexandria requests repeatedly to talk to Dave.
3:00 - Off the phone with Dave.
3:10 - Chit-chat with neighbor
3:18 - Alexandria tells me she wants to do "something awesome."
3:18 - Alexandria tells me she wants to do "something awesome."
3:23 - Get kids in bathing suits
3:30 - Turn on sprinkler in back yard for kids to play
3:35 - Sweep the floor while the kids are outside
3:47 - Check email, and make plans for the weekend with family
4:28 - Begin making dinner for the kids4:37 - Kids eat early (they've been waking up really early, so I'm going to try giving them another meal before bed). I sit with them to ensure that Marcus doesn't throw his plate of food on the ground. Marcus throws a lot of food on the ground. I give up. I call my mom to cement plans for the weekend.
4:43 - I eat again! Vanilla yogurt with protein powder.
5:49 - Start the bath
This is usually the part of the night when the day begins to unravel. Alexandria is tired and asks a million questions to which she knows the answer, or that don't have an easy-to-understand explanation. For instance, she'll ask, "Mommy, what's that?" pointing to the shampoo bottle. She knows it's the shampoo bottle. I ask, "What do you think it is?" "It's the shampoo bottle." "Why did you ask if you already knew?" "Why is it called 'shampoo'?" Mind numbing. "Why are they pajamas?" "Why is it a rug?" I have to walk away or I'll get too frustrated with the constant interruption to whatever it is I'm trying to accomplish, like getting Marcus dressed, putting toys away, putting clothes away, etc.
This is what we accomplished during the unravelling: kids take a bath, get out, get jammies on, Alexandria watched a Leap Frog video (rare), I read 4 books to Marcus, and then both kids got hungry again. They ate an egg, cottage cheese, strawberries, half of a banana, milk, and yogurt. Then we brushed teeth, sang a lullabye, did hugs and kisses, and went to bed by 7:45.
8:10 - Marcus starts crying, and just wants to be rocked to sleep. I oblige.
8:21 - Start cleaning up from dinner: Clean dishes, table, and placemat. I mop the floor because it's officially too gross to deal with.
9:03 - Done.
I take a few minutes to read the day's news and decompress.
9:45 - Dave calls to tell me he's on his way home. He'll be home in 30 minutes.
I put out the trashcan, pick up odds and ends, and head upstairs. I recopy notes until 11:30 and fall asleep after a few minutes of tossing and turning.
When the day is over, I have been without support for 14 hours. In the process, I have:
Made 3 full meals and at least 4 snacks for the kids
I ate 2 complete meals and a several snacks
Washed dishes 3 times
Put away 7 piles of clothes
Changed 5 diapers
Wiped down the kitchen table 3 times, the counters 4 times
Climbed the stairs 26 times, for a total of 540 steps (that's 1/2 of my 30 min. stairmaster workout at the gym!)
Studied for a total of 45 minutes for my new career.
Staying at home with a four year-old and an 18 month-old beats is the hardest thing I've ever done. But, like I said in this post, it's the most satisfying job I've ever had the priviledge of holding.
I'll do it again tomorrow.
9.30.2010
Topics I'll Never Cover
On a lighter note...
I really like blogs. I follow one about a Danish family living in Israel. She posts really beautiful photos. I follow one about Mod Podge. It rocks! I follow one about a lady who makes clothes from vintage patterns. I just started following one with some of the funniest comic strips I've ever read. The discussions in the Forum are priceless. I follow Cake Wrecks.
I'm attracted to unique writing styles and beautiful photos. Some people write long posts. Others say much with little. I love the idea that a person's overflowing passion for a certain topic compels them to share that passion with the world. Reading blogs is much like peeping through the window into a house, and you can only see a little bit, whatever they've put right there. Sometimes sad, sometimes hilarious, sometimes witty, these posts represent another beautiful square in the human quilt. I love it!
The irony the The Party of Four is how deeply personal it's become, yet I share it with everybody. But even I know, there's stuff in my life I don't really need to share with strangers. So I decided to compose a list of topics about which I probably will never write.
1. Potty Training
1. Potty Training
It's a huge part of my life right now, and really, that's all you get to know. Note: I am not the one getting potty trained, just in case you thought it might be funny to leave a comment alluding to that. I also know you are potty trained, so don't even go there.
2. Craft Tutorials
I do a lot of crafty stuff, but 9 times out of 10, I don't have any direction. Also, I'm usually making stuff with Alexandria, which means there is no time for photos. And finally, I take horrible close-up shots. I might do a post on What I Made, but there will be no instructions. If you want to make it, you're going to have to wing it.
3. What I Ate
These posts are really popular. They're delightful if you know how to take great photos of food. I do not. I did one of these posts once, and even though the food was tres delish, the photo was horrible. Even I was grossed out by it. See above for additional reasons. Ditto for Food I Make.
4. How I Decorate My House
I'm not overly impressed with my interior decorating skillz, so I've got no need to show it off. Nothing's ever quite finished, and frankly, it's just not a priority in our house.
5. My Outfit
My style is...Momtastic. It's definitely not blogworthy. I'm not fashion forward or daring. I'm not courageous at the thrift stores. I dress practically, because there is a 100% change I will have snot/food/sidewalk chalk/glue/aquarium water/dishwater/juice on my shirt by the end of the day. Everything must be expendable. Hello cheap from Old Navy!
6. Makeup Tips/Tutorials
Again, these posts are really popular. Again, I take horrible close up shots. I should also mention that, although I wear eyeliner and mascara, I do not do so religiously. I realized on Saturday that I hadn't worn makeup since Disneyland. We went on Monday. I am the worst advocate ever for makeup-wearing.
There you have it. It's not really a round number, but six seems to cover things that I'm not overly interested in sharing. The variety of topics that I will cover...well, that's to come.
One post at a time.
Thanks for reading! First time visitors and lurkers alike, let me know you've stopped by!
9.27.2010
So This Is How My Life Went
I wasn't always like this. I used to be fun.
At age 23, Thursdays meant one thing: WeHo! I dressed. I looked fierce. So did the boys. Really. We'd pick up a friend in Long Beach, and zip off to Mickey's or The Hollywood Athletic Club (my fave). We danced all night. We cut smoke breaks short when a good song came on (this was at the height of N'Sync and Brittney, and it was so good). We ate at Jerry's Famous Deli. We got home at 3. We listened to Toni Braxton remixes for the warm-up and Celine for the cool-down. We sang. We laughed. We'd leave for work by 8 or 9 the next morning and do it again, in some way, the next night.
Ten years later, I look at my life and marvel that my former self still resides in this older body. Sometimes I still feel the weighlessness of that young person, on the brink of life and love exploding into possibility, but reality keeps my feet firmly on the ground. I've made choices since then, taken on new responsibilities, created a much more complicated life than my uber-awesome work-friends-sleep dream.
The answer is always yes. Absolutely.
The answer is also no.
I compare some recent photos to those from just 5 years ago and notice creases around my eyes. Dave's hair is more salt and less pepper. In some photos, we just look tired. Like life is making us tired. Yet those physical markers may be symptomatic simply of our years, not our experience. What about our experience, then? Has life worn on us, leaving us hollow shells of our former selves? Sometimes I feel pieces of the old me dwelling within, yet they seem disengaged from my everyday life. There is simply no room right now for a free-spirited, impulsive, independent young woman in the life of a mother and wife.
Or is there? Can I connect my selves, my fiercely independent, free-spirited, impulsive self with my please-brush-your-teeth-please-clear-your-plate-please-get-dressed-please-don't-put-your-fingers-in-the-hummus self? Is there a place, either mental or physical, that I can go to embrace these two me's?
Yes. It's called Disneyland.
Alexandria and I have annual passes, and we've gone about once every month that our pass allows. It is there that I can be silly. I can be impulsive. I can dance, scream, and laugh to my heart's content, all the while being my child's mother. For hours I exist as as my truest self, untouched by outside worries, unphased by far-off concerns. It really is the Happiest Place on Earth, because I can't seem to recall the stresses that keep me so worried. It's like being immersed in a jar of pure joy. (Hint to any family members reading: renewing our passes would be an excellent birthday or Christmas gift)
So, maybe I don't need the 23 year-old me all the time. There's a lot of things I don't like about her. She was not driven. She had little or no direction. She was fun, but irresponsible. She drank too much and ate relatively unhealthy food, except when she was in training for a big sports-type thing.
If I'd stayed in that moment, that perpetual cycle of work-friends-sleep, I can imagine being happy. I imagine I would set goals and reach them with relative ease by building an achievement schedule around work and social time. I see travelling with Dave, filling time and spending money because we'd have enough of both. I'd buy stuff for our apartment, and then decorate, and then redecorate. We'd have our cat. We'd be happy. I cannot imagine, however, being satisfied.
While being tired because my baby woke up at 4:30 am does not make me happy, the satisfaction of being the person he needs, and then getting through the next day, compares with little else. I take tremendous pride in my life, my achievements as a wife and mother. The extras I accomplish, the projects with Alexandria and Marcus, pursuing a hobby, attempting a new career, writing about my deepest insecurities for all 20 of you to read, fill me with something other than pride. They simply fill me. In all of this, I am fulfilled.
So when I ask, "How happy am I?", the answer may not matter. I may be filled with happiness one day, and thoroughly unamused the next. But those feelings are temporary. They may inspire me to make a small change in one aspect of my life, or thrill in another. But the resounding constant in my life is satisfaction. Seeing through a commitment I made to raise people, love them, and nurture them causes all other achievements to pale in comparison. I am satisfied every day, sated by the complexity of experiences life continues to give me.
9.18.2010
Love The One You're With
I really love this blog (see button on the bottom left). When I have a few minutes, I take time to read what she writes. Lauren is funny, honest, stylish, and witty. Though, the thing I love most about her posts is the value she places on her marriage.
While many readers who are older or who have been married for many years may be cynical about her outlook, or even think she's a little corny (which I LOVE!), I find her perspective unusually refreshing. When I first started reading her posts, I thought, "Is she serious?!?! Nobody is that gushy." However, after nearly 2 years of following, I'm kind of gushy like that, too. And (surprise?), my marriage is better and stronger than ever.
Now, my interest in all things health-related is no secret (unless I've never mentioned it, in which case, the cat's out of the bag), and I was recently introduced to a concept called "Blue Zones" by Dan Beuttner. Please note: I have not yet read the book! However, after exploring the accompanying website, I learned some valuable information regarding the keys to health. Mr. Beuttner's plan for optimum health and well-being is described in the following 9-point plan:
This November will mark the 10-year anniversary of our first date. As of writing, we've been married for 4 and a half years. While much of our marriage has been frought with intense financial stress, family stress, and stress from outside forces, I've learned that my marriage is the most stable, sustaining force in my life. The world could be crumbling around me, and Dave is there, every time, to keep me from falling. As his wife, my job is to be that force for him. When he comes home from work, I try to make our home a haven of peace and security (although with two kids, am I attempting the impossible?). I work, happily, to be the person for him that he is to me. What greater purpose could I find than to be a force of security to my spouse? In turn, the side effect of our strong marriage is the example we set for our children. We hope that our children see the value of human beings, respect each other, and love fealessly.
Neither of us is perfect. We're not going to get it right every time. But effort is the key, and we try to get better. Working on my marriage is a daily task, and it is joyful work. The rewards are endless, sustaining, satisfying.
What have you done today for someone you love?
While many readers who are older or who have been married for many years may be cynical about her outlook, or even think she's a little corny (which I LOVE!), I find her perspective unusually refreshing. When I first started reading her posts, I thought, "Is she serious?!?! Nobody is that gushy." However, after nearly 2 years of following, I'm kind of gushy like that, too. And (surprise?), my marriage is better and stronger than ever.
Now, my interest in all things health-related is no secret (unless I've never mentioned it, in which case, the cat's out of the bag), and I was recently introduced to a concept called "Blue Zones" by Dan Beuttner. Please note: I have not yet read the book! However, after exploring the accompanying website, I learned some valuable information regarding the keys to health. Mr. Beuttner's plan for optimum health and well-being is described in the following 9-point plan:
1. Move (find ways to move mindlessly, make moving unavoidable)
2. Plan de Vida (know your purpose in life)
3. Down Shift (work less, slow down, rest, take vacation)
4. 80% Rule (stop eating when you're 80% full)
5. Plant-Power (more veggies, less protein and processed foods)
6. Red Wine (consistency and moderation)
7. Belong (create a healthy social network)
8. Beliefs (spiritual or religious participation)
9. Your Tribe (make family a priority)
Now, I am not interested in dissecting each point and explaining the ways in which we can adjust our lives to fit into this plan. Although, I think this is a pretty awesome blueprint for longevity and healthful living.
I am interested, though, in pointing out how reading Lauren's blog fits in to the overall wellness of the community of over 1, 500 people who follow her. Lauren's belief in the importance of marriage and her reinforcement of that belief through her writing encourages each reader to seek out the good in their own relationships. She may publish a post describing the joyful events of her weekend with her husband, and then ask, "What brought you joy this weekend?"
Most responders share a moment with their spouse or boyfriend, or a moment shared with friends. In this way, Lauren creates #7, a healthy social community to which readers belong. Healthy living, happiness, and joy are the foundation on which this ongoing dialogue is based, and readers do find these qualities in their own lives. The search for good soon becomes effortless.
The importance of belonging to a healthy community of people can mean many things. As Beuttner points out, joining a running group builds a sense of belonging, and healthy people encourage each other to live healthfully. Likewise, joining a group of people who value marriage builds a sense of belonging, and encourages the kind of nurturing that a healthy marriage requires. Additionally, I sought these relationships in real life, and the women with whom I associate all share the same love of their husbands, and place the same value on their marriage. No priority trumps marriage. None.
This November will mark the 10-year anniversary of our first date. As of writing, we've been married for 4 and a half years. While much of our marriage has been frought with intense financial stress, family stress, and stress from outside forces, I've learned that my marriage is the most stable, sustaining force in my life. The world could be crumbling around me, and Dave is there, every time, to keep me from falling. As his wife, my job is to be that force for him. When he comes home from work, I try to make our home a haven of peace and security (although with two kids, am I attempting the impossible?). I work, happily, to be the person for him that he is to me. What greater purpose could I find than to be a force of security to my spouse? In turn, the side effect of our strong marriage is the example we set for our children. We hope that our children see the value of human beings, respect each other, and love fealessly.
Neither of us is perfect. We're not going to get it right every time. But effort is the key, and we try to get better. Working on my marriage is a daily task, and it is joyful work. The rewards are endless, sustaining, satisfying.
What have you done today for someone you love?
9.15.2010
All The Single Ladies...
I've got to admit something. Sometimes Facebook really pisses me off.
I see the following status update at least once a week, "I have so much respect for single mothers. My husband is working late/out for the evening/away on business, and I had the kids all alone tonight!" A slurry of sympathetic comments from other moms (inevitably, one is single) follows, offering, "Oh, I totally know! It's so hard when (husband name X) works at night" or "You're such an awesome mom!" Gag. The token single mother friend usually offers a "Thanks. It's hard."
Comparing one three-hour stint with two kids to being a single mother seems rather dismissive and insulting to single mothers. What do you think?
Two of my neighbors raised their children as single mothers, as did several women in my family. Many of my friends grew up between two households. Here's what I know from them.
As a single mother:
I've mentioned that Dave travels, and for a while during a very difficult time in our life, I'd tell people I was "single mommin' it." But I knew there was a second income. I knew I could call him. I knew that if it got really tough, I had in-laws nearby. The single mother is afforded none of these luxuries. I'll never say that again.
Next time I see a married somebody post that they've had a really tough day with their two kids and bladdy bladdy blah and blah blah I have so much respect for single mothers blah blah, I probably won't say anything, because FB fights are waaaay lame. But I'm just throwing this out there. I think it's slightly disrespectful.
Three cheers for single mothers. You women are amazing.
I see the following status update at least once a week, "I have so much respect for single mothers. My husband is working late/out for the evening/away on business, and I had the kids all alone tonight!" A slurry of sympathetic comments from other moms (inevitably, one is single) follows, offering, "Oh, I totally know! It's so hard when (husband name X) works at night" or "You're such an awesome mom!" Gag. The token single mother friend usually offers a "Thanks. It's hard."
Comparing one three-hour stint with two kids to being a single mother seems rather dismissive and insulting to single mothers. What do you think?
Two of my neighbors raised their children as single mothers, as did several women in my family. Many of my friends grew up between two households. Here's what I know from them.
As a single mother:
- You don't get a break. Nobody usually comes home at 5 to take over baths or story. He's not away on business, and he's not going to tell you how strong and awesome you were while he was gone. You won't get a phonecall. You won't get a sympathetic ear or a hug. You won't even get a pat on the back. You'll get to wake up the next day and do it all over again.
- You probably don't get the luxury of choosing to be a stay at home mom.
- You don't have a partner to share household duties. You make dinner and clean up the dishes.
- You can swallow your pride and accept spousal support, or not. Both options suck.
- Everything is a balancing act, and there's only one leg for support. You. Work schedules must bend around school plays, soccer games, Open House, parent-teacher conferences, and Back to School Night.
- You change every diaper, change the liner, and take out the trash. Every time. Ditto for the potty training toilet and soiled training pants. Ditto for homework, bathtime, hair washing, teeth brushing, story time, lullabye, and lights out. Ditto for breakfast, cleanup, dressing, teeth brush, and out the door on time. Ditto for everything.
- You balance childcare, getting the oil changed in the car, cleaning the house, grocery shopping, cooking, and sleeping. And maybe, just maybe, there's a little time in there for yourself.
I've mentioned that Dave travels, and for a while during a very difficult time in our life, I'd tell people I was "single mommin' it." But I knew there was a second income. I knew I could call him. I knew that if it got really tough, I had in-laws nearby. The single mother is afforded none of these luxuries. I'll never say that again.
Next time I see a married somebody post that they've had a really tough day with their two kids and bladdy bladdy blah and blah blah I have so much respect for single mothers blah blah, I probably won't say anything, because FB fights are waaaay lame. But I'm just throwing this out there. I think it's slightly disrespectful.
Three cheers for single mothers. You women are amazing.
8.31.2010
One More Reason To Hate Wall Street
Last week, Dave and I took Alexandria off to her preschool orientation. She was jazzed, and so were we. She met her teacher, played on the playground, and familiarized herself with the classroom activities. I would be remiss if I failed to mention snack. She also ate snack.
While the children acquainted themselves with their new environment, the parents learned what they needed to know, as well. Due dates of tuition, spaghetti dinner/auction night, the preschool garage sale, and book sale fundraisers topped the list. The director of the school then mentioned something that disturbed me. While informing us of the school's "three-month tuition reduction for families in need," she told us that enrollment is down, and that many families who registered initially simply could not afford this year of preschool. The economy is the culprit again.
I don't pretend to understand economics. I don't "get" derivatives or securities or any of that. I understand PeRT and a savings account and an IRA and maybe a bit more, but not much. But I do know this. When all the boys on Wall Street slapped each other's backs one too many times, and they all sat and watched the economy tank (the fruit of their handiwork), I'm sure none of them realized that, as a result, group of four year-olds would miss preschool.
According to this article, children who attend preschool score 27% higher in than their counterparts who do not attend preschool, and that a "good preschool can provide learning opportunities above and beyond what most homes can provide." As I come from a family of educators, I'm familiar with the stories of the children who arrived on their first day of kindergarten unfamiliar with scissors, crayons, pencils, and markers, who lacked social skills and were unable to work in a group. Right out of the starting gates, those children are at a disadvantage. According to that same article, the children who are able to work independently are more likely to experience academic success.
As a person struggling to make ends meet, I understand the awful dilemma of those parents. There are no more holes in the belt. It's as tight as it will go. As somebody floating in the middle class, I feel terribly frustrated. All the people responsible for this economic quagmire swim in money, and they'll never have to decide whether they can afford preschool. Their kids are going to get all the advantages that money can buy. Their kids will likely be rich and successful because that's how the statistics, and the system, work.
But it's the children of the poor and lower middle class who will now bear this particular burden of Wall Street's greed. A parent may have lost a job. A mother may decide that health insurance is more important. They both decide that more expensive rent in a better neighborhood is the best option for their family. But they can't afford all of it. So they make choices. Who would blame them? All of those options are valid and worthwhile and needed.
What will happen to this generation of children then? The children whose parents might have been able to bear the sacrifice of preschool tuition before the recession, now, cannot. So these children may find themselves in kindergarten lacking the ability to work in a group, use scissors, or "think beyond the midline." The children with preschool experience will move ahead in lessons, while the other children will play catch-up. For years. Forever? Will this divide the classes further? Will this create a growing population of working poor Americans? How can we even hope that the next generation will do better than us?
I guess we'll find out in a couple of decades.
Update: Forbes Magazine just released their Wealthiest Americans list, and guess what? The collective wealth of those people rose 8% from last year. Good to know that while the rest of the nation chooses between health care and preschool, they're doing wondering what all the fuss is about.
Update: I just got a phonecall from the preschool director, and she wanted to keep me "in the loop." Because enrollment is so low, they're combining two classes and letting go of one of the teachers. Someone is going to lose their job, and it's a horrible decision for her to make. Thank you, Wall Street.
While the children acquainted themselves with their new environment, the parents learned what they needed to know, as well. Due dates of tuition, spaghetti dinner/auction night, the preschool garage sale, and book sale fundraisers topped the list. The director of the school then mentioned something that disturbed me. While informing us of the school's "three-month tuition reduction for families in need," she told us that enrollment is down, and that many families who registered initially simply could not afford this year of preschool. The economy is the culprit again.
I don't pretend to understand economics. I don't "get" derivatives or securities or any of that. I understand PeRT and a savings account and an IRA and maybe a bit more, but not much. But I do know this. When all the boys on Wall Street slapped each other's backs one too many times, and they all sat and watched the economy tank (the fruit of their handiwork), I'm sure none of them realized that, as a result, group of four year-olds would miss preschool.
According to this article, children who attend preschool score 27% higher in than their counterparts who do not attend preschool, and that a "good preschool can provide learning opportunities above and beyond what most homes can provide." As I come from a family of educators, I'm familiar with the stories of the children who arrived on their first day of kindergarten unfamiliar with scissors, crayons, pencils, and markers, who lacked social skills and were unable to work in a group. Right out of the starting gates, those children are at a disadvantage. According to that same article, the children who are able to work independently are more likely to experience academic success.
As a person struggling to make ends meet, I understand the awful dilemma of those parents. There are no more holes in the belt. It's as tight as it will go. As somebody floating in the middle class, I feel terribly frustrated. All the people responsible for this economic quagmire swim in money, and they'll never have to decide whether they can afford preschool. Their kids are going to get all the advantages that money can buy. Their kids will likely be rich and successful because that's how the statistics, and the system, work.
But it's the children of the poor and lower middle class who will now bear this particular burden of Wall Street's greed. A parent may have lost a job. A mother may decide that health insurance is more important. They both decide that more expensive rent in a better neighborhood is the best option for their family. But they can't afford all of it. So they make choices. Who would blame them? All of those options are valid and worthwhile and needed.
What will happen to this generation of children then? The children whose parents might have been able to bear the sacrifice of preschool tuition before the recession, now, cannot. So these children may find themselves in kindergarten lacking the ability to work in a group, use scissors, or "think beyond the midline." The children with preschool experience will move ahead in lessons, while the other children will play catch-up. For years. Forever? Will this divide the classes further? Will this create a growing population of working poor Americans? How can we even hope that the next generation will do better than us?
I guess we'll find out in a couple of decades.
Update: Forbes Magazine just released their Wealthiest Americans list, and guess what? The collective wealth of those people rose 8% from last year. Good to know that while the rest of the nation chooses between health care and preschool, they're doing wondering what all the fuss is about.
Update: I just got a phonecall from the preschool director, and she wanted to keep me "in the loop." Because enrollment is so low, they're combining two classes and letting go of one of the teachers. Someone is going to lose their job, and it's a horrible decision for her to make. Thank you, Wall Street.
8.23.2010
Reflections on Insomnia
I'm lying in bed. I hear Dave breathing softly next to me. Crickets chirp. An air conditioner clicks on, hums, and clicks off. A dog barks. So I roll to the left, and then to the right. Nothing. The world outside sleeps quietly through the night while a war rages inside my head.
The big culprit in my sleeplessness is stress. I never considered myself a worrier, but I think the tendency to freak out about things I can't control is growing. And just like in "I Dreamed A Dream," when those tigers come at night, their thunderous voices keep me awake. Anxiety over money (lack of!), my future, and inevitable confrontations with dysfunctional people laces itself into my brain, tying up rational thoughts.
Sometimes when Dave travels, my fears manifest themselves into crazy Manson-like scenarios. I'll sleep with two phones next to my bed sometimes. I know it's irrational, but it doesn't matter. It's where my brain goes, and I've got a hard time stopping it.
Tonight is different, though. The normal stuff is still there - dysfunctional people in and money out. Tonight my future is there, waiting to be acknowledged, and I'm afraid to look.
As I may have mentioned, I've gone back to school to become a personal trainer. Combining my love of athletics with my desire to improve the lives of others seemed like a great direction to go. It is. I know it is. But the process of learning reminds me how much I don't know. When I look boldly at all the information I have yet to acquire, I start to ask the same debilitating questions I've asked for years. Will I be any good? Am I a fraud? Will anyone really take me seriously? What if I fail? What if it doesn't work?
I know I'm not the only one who asks these questions. My life strategy in the past has been to play it extremely safe. I bartended. I could carry on a conversation with relatively bright people, do my job, and go home. At work, I never challenged myself. I remained in a position with no advancement, no pay increases, no ability to move forward for nearly a decade. While I loved what I did, I knew always that when I turned out the lights and got in bed, those nasty tigers would come. I would wonder if I was wasting my brain, wasting my God-given potential on an intellectually dissatisfying job I loved. Did I take the easiest, safest route? Why didn't I put myself out there and take a chance?
The decision to leave the safety of the restaurant industry was not mine, but I accept it. Now, well over a year later, I have no choice but to take chances. I'm out of options. I have no desire to go back to restaurants, nor do I have any inclination to use my degree. Instead, I'm heading in a new direction doing something that I know I'll love. But those same fears nags me. Only this time, I don't have any safety net. The part of me that knows I can do it gets squashed by the baseless anxiety over whether or not I'll be able to assimilate information and pass it along effectively, whether I'll help people lose weight and feel good about themselves without getting injured, or whether I can even get a client.
The thing I resent most about these worries, these irrational worries, is how much time I let them consume. My brain is polluted by things I don't even need to consider. For instance, "What if I fail?" Well, since failure is simply not an option, I don't even need to consider it. The anxieties that accompany the failure question should also be disregarded.
Unfortunately, simply disregarding the fear of failure is not so easy. If I really want to understand my fear, I must understand what about failure really frightens me. Honestly, I am afraid of having to tell people, "It didn't work out." I fear that those who may not like me will take satisfaction in my lack of success. I fear disappointing myself and letting down my family. I fear not being able to "hack" a career, because I've never really had one.
Writing those words makes the whole problem seem so benign... Interesting.
My eyes are drooping and my heartbeat has returned to normal. I'm going to try to go to sleep, hopefully worry-free. My final thought is this. If you've ever felt imprisoned by your fear of failure, ask yourself what "not failing" really is. Is it making a lot of money? Is it getting married and having a family? Is it a feeling of satisfaction at the end of the day? If you had those things, do you think you would feel like a success? For a moment, consider your role models. Do you think they are successes in life? And then, do you think they believe they are successes in life? We're all human. Flawed and imperfect, but beautiful and full of potential. The standards by which we measure our own success are vastly different than those by which we measure the success of others. Be gentle with yourself. And be brave. Maybe the question we really need to ask is, "What if I succeed?"
The big culprit in my sleeplessness is stress. I never considered myself a worrier, but I think the tendency to freak out about things I can't control is growing. And just like in "I Dreamed A Dream," when those tigers come at night, their thunderous voices keep me awake. Anxiety over money (lack of!), my future, and inevitable confrontations with dysfunctional people laces itself into my brain, tying up rational thoughts.
Sometimes when Dave travels, my fears manifest themselves into crazy Manson-like scenarios. I'll sleep with two phones next to my bed sometimes. I know it's irrational, but it doesn't matter. It's where my brain goes, and I've got a hard time stopping it.
Tonight is different, though. The normal stuff is still there - dysfunctional people in and money out. Tonight my future is there, waiting to be acknowledged, and I'm afraid to look.
As I may have mentioned, I've gone back to school to become a personal trainer. Combining my love of athletics with my desire to improve the lives of others seemed like a great direction to go. It is. I know it is. But the process of learning reminds me how much I don't know. When I look boldly at all the information I have yet to acquire, I start to ask the same debilitating questions I've asked for years. Will I be any good? Am I a fraud? Will anyone really take me seriously? What if I fail? What if it doesn't work?
I know I'm not the only one who asks these questions. My life strategy in the past has been to play it extremely safe. I bartended. I could carry on a conversation with relatively bright people, do my job, and go home. At work, I never challenged myself. I remained in a position with no advancement, no pay increases, no ability to move forward for nearly a decade. While I loved what I did, I knew always that when I turned out the lights and got in bed, those nasty tigers would come. I would wonder if I was wasting my brain, wasting my God-given potential on an intellectually dissatisfying job I loved. Did I take the easiest, safest route? Why didn't I put myself out there and take a chance?
The decision to leave the safety of the restaurant industry was not mine, but I accept it. Now, well over a year later, I have no choice but to take chances. I'm out of options. I have no desire to go back to restaurants, nor do I have any inclination to use my degree. Instead, I'm heading in a new direction doing something that I know I'll love. But those same fears nags me. Only this time, I don't have any safety net. The part of me that knows I can do it gets squashed by the baseless anxiety over whether or not I'll be able to assimilate information and pass it along effectively, whether I'll help people lose weight and feel good about themselves without getting injured, or whether I can even get a client.
The thing I resent most about these worries, these irrational worries, is how much time I let them consume. My brain is polluted by things I don't even need to consider. For instance, "What if I fail?" Well, since failure is simply not an option, I don't even need to consider it. The anxieties that accompany the failure question should also be disregarded.
Unfortunately, simply disregarding the fear of failure is not so easy. If I really want to understand my fear, I must understand what about failure really frightens me. Honestly, I am afraid of having to tell people, "It didn't work out." I fear that those who may not like me will take satisfaction in my lack of success. I fear disappointing myself and letting down my family. I fear not being able to "hack" a career, because I've never really had one.
Writing those words makes the whole problem seem so benign... Interesting.
My eyes are drooping and my heartbeat has returned to normal. I'm going to try to go to sleep, hopefully worry-free. My final thought is this. If you've ever felt imprisoned by your fear of failure, ask yourself what "not failing" really is. Is it making a lot of money? Is it getting married and having a family? Is it a feeling of satisfaction at the end of the day? If you had those things, do you think you would feel like a success? For a moment, consider your role models. Do you think they are successes in life? And then, do you think they believe they are successes in life? We're all human. Flawed and imperfect, but beautiful and full of potential. The standards by which we measure our own success are vastly different than those by which we measure the success of others. Be gentle with yourself. And be brave. Maybe the question we really need to ask is, "What if I succeed?"
8.17.2010
The Same River Twice
I'm somewhere new today. Somewhere far away from where I've been. My little fingers ached to tell the story as it unfolded, but there was no time. It all happened so fast. Here's a summation.
I wrote furiously. I worked my way through the mess my life was by writing about how I wanted my life to be. Then, I took my own advice, on the suggestion of my therapist. This is what I did:
So that's the digs. That's what's been going down for the past few months.
Then we decided we needed a vacation from all of the above craziness. So we packed up the car and drove. For two days. With a 4 year old and a 1 year old. We drove to Utah. On the same road that took us towards the biggest change of our lives.
In September 2005, days after Katrina ravaged New Orleans, my boyfriend Dave and I set out on a road trip. We packed up the truck full of camping gear and headed east. Our trip took us through the desolation of the Mojave Desert, Apple Valley, and Las Vegas (how does one drive through and not stop?!?). We followed the road into the Virgin River Valley and then up to the beginnings of the toppled Colorado Plateau. We thought we would drive into the side of a mountain, but insead veered right and drove through the grandeur of brown, red, and gray rocks of a million years past. Remember that degree? no. Up, up, up to red and black and plateaus and valleys of Nevada, Arizona, and finally to Utah. Beautiful green and red Utah. We camped at a site called Red Bluffs, outside of St. George. I recall how thick and dusty and warm the air felt against my skin, so familiar with fog and ocean. We would follow the road out of St. George that took us east to Moab, and then up to Idaho, Washington, Oregon, and finally, home. We spent 14 days and over 3000 miles together, never once even disagreeing. That trip changed everything. I would come back engaged, in love completely with my fiancee and our trip and the possibility of our future.
Yesterday, we got into that same truck, but as a family of four. We drove the same road through the same mountains and valleys, through Las Vegas (again with no stop...) to St. George. There we stopped for the night. As a family, we didn't camp. We donned bathing suits and went in the hotel pool. As a family. Family.
This morning, we enjoyed our Continental breakfast and took a different road, because as a family, we do different things than couples. This time, we continued north on the road to Park City, UT, to see my sister's family. The me from five years ago had a vague concept of what being a nuclear family meant, but I know she didn't understand this.
Me-from-five-years-ago didn't really understand that the same places will never be the same again. That revisiting a place from the past means seeing something old with new eyes. We could take both of our children on the exact roads of that trip again, to show them the place in Idaho where their dad asked their mom to marry him, along the roads that took us west to the bluegreen of Seattle, down though the stripped forests of Oregon and through northeastern plateau of California, finally heading home. We could do all of that again, but we will have these 5 years worth of life and experience tagging along. We'll never be as carefree and careless about being out of cellphone range again. That becoming a wife, seeing babies come into the world, celebrating the arrival of three nieces, fighting, making-up, sacrificing, gets packed right along with toothpaste and clean underwear. All for this possibility. I drove the same road with the same person, but with a radically different destination. This time, we opted against building a cocoon and living inside, away, for two weeks, and instead visited family. Children. Babies. Our years together with our children has built up to this. This magical moment in our lives when our children are playing with their cousins, staying up way past their bedtimes, the beginning of memory.
We visit these places again, come back to the familiar in the vain hope that we can restore some beauty that is lost to the past. Too often though, we seek that same memory, that feeling that the past evoked, at the expense of the feeling of right now. Yesterday, we were on the same river, dipping our toes in the cool rushing water, but this time, we listened to our kids splash and laugh with us.
I wrote furiously. I worked my way through the mess my life was by writing about how I wanted my life to be. Then, I took my own advice, on the suggestion of my therapist. This is what I did:
- I quit my job. I made a decision for my mental health, the health of my marriage, and the happiness of my children, to leave a job that made me miserable. Financial hit? You betcha! In my life though, the thing that trumps finances is my family. So, is making dinner every night, arriving on-time for swimming lessons, and relatively unrushed mornings worth it? Is Kindermusik with teacher Erin, park play dates, the gym, and playing with my kids worth it? Is maximizing the time Dave and I have together worth it? You betcha!
- I went back to school. The thing that sucks about choosing a major when you're 20 is that you're kind of stuck with it when you're 30 and don't really know what you want to do when you grow up. With my slate clean, I found myself in the unique position of choosing from virtually anything in the world that I might want to pursue. Since I've been involved in sports, health, and fitness for nearly my whole life (all of you who knew me when I smoked are completely welcome to shut your mouths right now. Same goes for all of you who knew me as a waitress.), I felt that becoming a personal trainer might be a great fit for me. So that's what I did. I've enrolled in a course to become certified. I spend my spare time studying now, although my little fingers itch to write...write...write.
So that's the digs. That's what's been going down for the past few months.
Then we decided we needed a vacation from all of the above craziness. So we packed up the car and drove. For two days. With a 4 year old and a 1 year old. We drove to Utah. On the same road that took us towards the biggest change of our lives.
In September 2005, days after Katrina ravaged New Orleans, my boyfriend Dave and I set out on a road trip. We packed up the truck full of camping gear and headed east. Our trip took us through the desolation of the Mojave Desert, Apple Valley, and Las Vegas (how does one drive through and not stop?!?). We followed the road into the Virgin River Valley and then up to the beginnings of the toppled Colorado Plateau. We thought we would drive into the side of a mountain, but insead veered right and drove through the grandeur of brown, red, and gray rocks of a million years past. Remember that degree? no. Up, up, up to red and black and plateaus and valleys of Nevada, Arizona, and finally to Utah. Beautiful green and red Utah. We camped at a site called Red Bluffs, outside of St. George. I recall how thick and dusty and warm the air felt against my skin, so familiar with fog and ocean. We would follow the road out of St. George that took us east to Moab, and then up to Idaho, Washington, Oregon, and finally, home. We spent 14 days and over 3000 miles together, never once even disagreeing. That trip changed everything. I would come back engaged, in love completely with my fiancee and our trip and the possibility of our future.
Yesterday, we got into that same truck, but as a family of four. We drove the same road through the same mountains and valleys, through Las Vegas (again with no stop...) to St. George. There we stopped for the night. As a family, we didn't camp. We donned bathing suits and went in the hotel pool. As a family. Family.
This morning, we enjoyed our Continental breakfast and took a different road, because as a family, we do different things than couples. This time, we continued north on the road to Park City, UT, to see my sister's family. The me from five years ago had a vague concept of what being a nuclear family meant, but I know she didn't understand this.
Me-from-five-years-ago didn't really understand that the same places will never be the same again. That revisiting a place from the past means seeing something old with new eyes. We could take both of our children on the exact roads of that trip again, to show them the place in Idaho where their dad asked their mom to marry him, along the roads that took us west to the bluegreen of Seattle, down though the stripped forests of Oregon and through northeastern plateau of California, finally heading home. We could do all of that again, but we will have these 5 years worth of life and experience tagging along. We'll never be as carefree and careless about being out of cellphone range again. That becoming a wife, seeing babies come into the world, celebrating the arrival of three nieces, fighting, making-up, sacrificing, gets packed right along with toothpaste and clean underwear. All for this possibility. I drove the same road with the same person, but with a radically different destination. This time, we opted against building a cocoon and living inside, away, for two weeks, and instead visited family. Children. Babies. Our years together with our children has built up to this. This magical moment in our lives when our children are playing with their cousins, staying up way past their bedtimes, the beginning of memory.
We visit these places again, come back to the familiar in the vain hope that we can restore some beauty that is lost to the past. Too often though, we seek that same memory, that feeling that the past evoked, at the expense of the feeling of right now. Yesterday, we were on the same river, dipping our toes in the cool rushing water, but this time, we listened to our kids splash and laugh with us.
5.03.2010
Road Trip!
OK, you're standing in the driveway waiting. Your best friend is running late (again) and you were supposed to hit the road 20 minutes ago. You've got a 6 hour drive ahead of you and this is cutting into time you could be spending at your final destination. You were excited an hour ago, and now you're just pissed.
The BF arrives, you're cranky, and the first hour of the trip is awkward because you're taking a stand and making it awkward. Maybe a favorite song comes on or a car passes with a funny bumper sticker. You sing loudly or laugh loudly, and gradually the ice melts away. You're friends again, the trip isn't a bust, but still, you just want to get there.
Now consider that same trip. You're standing in the driveway waiting for your late companion, you're irritated for the first hour, and an hour into the trip you begin to enjoy the ride. Consider all of that, but you are on at trip without a destination. You were irritated for what? You missed the first hour over something petty. What's the point of getting in the car if you're really not going anywhere? Why waste valuable energy and resources on a journey with no endpoint?
What if the journey itself is the point?
Sometimes I listen to the words escaping my lips, and I cringe. "I can't wait until Alexandria goes to preschool." "I'm so ready for Marcus to be done with his heart medication." "I really wish my work schedule was different."
Each of those statements, along with the myriad of others stemming from a host of different endpoints, reflect my inability to enjoy where I am. I'm so preoccupied with getting where I'm going, or where I want to be, and even how badly I wish I was already there, that I'm missing the scenery along the way. What if my life experience is about learning the joy of Alexandria being at home with me? What if the challenge of administering multiple doses of medication is supposed to make me stronger, or more sympathetic, or more organized? Perhaps a different work schedule would not be as ideal as the schedule I work now. Maybe those endpoints are not the point of it all.
I'll consider then, that those endpoints are not real destinations in my life. For once I arrive, a new, different journey inevitably begins. Something unforseen, something challenging. My life may be punctuated by project completions, milestones, and sudden changes, but for the most part, I live in the in-between. I'm perpetually in transition. As my pastor put it so well, "We're never going to get rid of those ants once and for all." My kids continue to grow and change. Marcus continues to heal, even after nearly a year. I continue working. I've become so interested in getting to where I'm supposed to be that I miss the bulk of experience in getting there.
This is my life. This is how it's happening. The pages of my book fill with the stories of my days, and all I can think about is how the chapter should end. What a waste!
So last night when Marcus woke up at 12:30 a.m. screaming from what I'm convinced will be diagnosed as an ear infection, I started to practice my change in perception. Instead of lamenting today's inevitable exhaustion, I took the opportunity to enjoy being the person I was chosen to be in Marcus's life. I got to spend four hours holding this little boy who is on the brink of outgrowing my strength. I relished in the pleasure of sitting in the rocking chair with him, feeling him relax as he rested his head above my heart. I stopped looking at the clock, and instead kept my eyes fixed on him. My heart broke that he experienced pain, but life happened for him like that, and I wasn't going to wish for something that was impossible. Last night, I took the first step in learning to enjoy a journey with no endpoint.
I'm going to catch myself from now on. Before I mutter utterances that begin with, "I wish" or "I hope" or "I can't wait until," I'll shut my mouth, consider my thought, and say simply, "This moment is my life. I'm blessed for this experience."
For right now, I'm in the car, and the drive is beautiful. (Although it's probably not smart to be behind the wheel with 3 hours sleep. Again, I'm being realistic.)
The BF arrives, you're cranky, and the first hour of the trip is awkward because you're taking a stand and making it awkward. Maybe a favorite song comes on or a car passes with a funny bumper sticker. You sing loudly or laugh loudly, and gradually the ice melts away. You're friends again, the trip isn't a bust, but still, you just want to get there.
Now consider that same trip. You're standing in the driveway waiting for your late companion, you're irritated for the first hour, and an hour into the trip you begin to enjoy the ride. Consider all of that, but you are on at trip without a destination. You were irritated for what? You missed the first hour over something petty. What's the point of getting in the car if you're really not going anywhere? Why waste valuable energy and resources on a journey with no endpoint?
What if the journey itself is the point?
Sometimes I listen to the words escaping my lips, and I cringe. "I can't wait until Alexandria goes to preschool." "I'm so ready for Marcus to be done with his heart medication." "I really wish my work schedule was different."
Each of those statements, along with the myriad of others stemming from a host of different endpoints, reflect my inability to enjoy where I am. I'm so preoccupied with getting where I'm going, or where I want to be, and even how badly I wish I was already there, that I'm missing the scenery along the way. What if my life experience is about learning the joy of Alexandria being at home with me? What if the challenge of administering multiple doses of medication is supposed to make me stronger, or more sympathetic, or more organized? Perhaps a different work schedule would not be as ideal as the schedule I work now. Maybe those endpoints are not the point of it all.
I'll consider then, that those endpoints are not real destinations in my life. For once I arrive, a new, different journey inevitably begins. Something unforseen, something challenging. My life may be punctuated by project completions, milestones, and sudden changes, but for the most part, I live in the in-between. I'm perpetually in transition. As my pastor put it so well, "We're never going to get rid of those ants once and for all." My kids continue to grow and change. Marcus continues to heal, even after nearly a year. I continue working. I've become so interested in getting to where I'm supposed to be that I miss the bulk of experience in getting there.
This is my life. This is how it's happening. The pages of my book fill with the stories of my days, and all I can think about is how the chapter should end. What a waste!
So last night when Marcus woke up at 12:30 a.m. screaming from what I'm convinced will be diagnosed as an ear infection, I started to practice my change in perception. Instead of lamenting today's inevitable exhaustion, I took the opportunity to enjoy being the person I was chosen to be in Marcus's life. I got to spend four hours holding this little boy who is on the brink of outgrowing my strength. I relished in the pleasure of sitting in the rocking chair with him, feeling him relax as he rested his head above my heart. I stopped looking at the clock, and instead kept my eyes fixed on him. My heart broke that he experienced pain, but life happened for him like that, and I wasn't going to wish for something that was impossible. Last night, I took the first step in learning to enjoy a journey with no endpoint.
I'm going to catch myself from now on. Before I mutter utterances that begin with, "I wish" or "I hope" or "I can't wait until," I'll shut my mouth, consider my thought, and say simply, "This moment is my life. I'm blessed for this experience."
For right now, I'm in the car, and the drive is beautiful. (Although it's probably not smart to be behind the wheel with 3 hours sleep. Again, I'm being realistic.)
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