-       David Bowie

Here’s what I know how to do.  One foot in front of the other.  Grammy always said, “keep on keeping on.”  And that’s what I’m doing.  However, I think I just need a good cry.  Or a vacation (though we never seem to have the money or time for that).  I’ve got a couple of great friends who are stepping up to relieve the pressure I’m in and I’m seeking help on the things that I can change.

But change is at the crux of it all.  There’s a lot of change going on.  Change from within.  Change from the outside.

Last week BigBoy started kindergarten.  He is loving it.  It’s giving him a sense of purpose and he’s eager to do well.  I think his teacher is a great fit for him.  I have volunteered to work in his classroom twice a month.  That appeared to be a good commitment for me.  Not too much, but participating nonetheless.*  Then I also signed up for being the room Scholastic mom.  Well, you know about my love for books and that will be every 6-8 weeks.  So other than writing a check for the PTA and the social events that support our school, I think I’m good and I’m not signing up for more.

Luckily his kindergarten is from 8:00 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. and then released early (around noon) on Fridays.  I do the drop off, pick up, lunch making and homework reviewing (yes there is homework for kindergartners).  I’ve attended the orientation, first day meeting and back to school night.  I’ve entered in the full year of calendar events on our family Outlook (don’t laugh, but how else do you keep it all together?).

The next biggest change that has occurred is that my unemployment ran out and I’m now a part-time work from home mom.  I had to come up with something to replace that income and I don’t want to sacrifice my relationship with the boys for a full-time paycheck.  I don’t want to go down that road again.  So if I can creatively come up with contracts to work from home, then you betcha, I will.   And I have.  And I actually think that we can make it work and pay our bills.  There is one bill in particular that is out of control (my student loan), but more on that later.

Two days a week and every other Friday, I have BabyD go to our fabulous sanity-saving, in-home daycare friend down the street.  So I have two days a week where I’m focused working for a good chunk of time.  I can sprinkle in some client work when I have BabyD on Tuesday and Thursday…it’s as Tim Gunn says, “make it work people!”  My first piece of work is that I’m handling some marketing and admin work for a friend and real estate agent a few hours each week.  Then, with the thanks of my blog and love for social networking, I landed a great client (of all things) in the aquarium enthusiast world.  I’ll be writing blog posts and handling their social networking to create a community around their progressive (and green) products.

I’m stoked about the possibilities of it all, but that’s a lot of newness and change and I’m looking for my rhythm inside of all that.  And of course, there are big things that are happening NOW and clients need stuff NOW.  So it’s been a busy week for me to say the least.  AND I’m actually getting some more requests from other sources for work!  I am blessed and trying to see how all this can fit in.

Let me say a bit about BabyD.  He’s a complete 2 year old right now.  He wants to do things his way, he yells at me, he fights fiercely with his brother, and he can turn on the charm at the wink of an eye.  He’s a killer and a tough one for me.  Yes, we’re still going to swim class on Tuesdays.  We also just moved him from his crib to a big boy bed (he loves to show everyone who comes over his car bed…it’s just cars on the comforter, pictures and a pillow, but he’s thrilled about it.)  Just yesterday we sold his crib, chest of drawers-changing table, and linens.  *tear*  I have to admit that I got a bit choked up, but I’m happy to help out a newly started couple with our set.  Like all moms say, “he’s growing up so fast.”  One minute I want to squeeze him so tightly and the next minute I want his bad attitude to stay in his room forever all day.

And for the cherry on top, Husband and I are SO VERY out of sync with each other.  I just want to be held, loved on, and asked how I’m doing traveling at the speed of light with all this change going on.  Hell, just notice that I’m wearing a dress — that would be nice.  Instead, I think that everything out of his mouth is a challenge or critique without a word of care.  He thinks he can’t do anything right by me.  I think he just needs to listen more/better and use his brain.  This could go on and on.  I’ll save you from my relational hell.  I’m not sure if it’s my hormones that our outta wack (I’ve sought help from a regular medical doctor and a naturopath) or if we need some counseling to sort out our communication.  I think we need both.  Stat.

I have to confess that he did bring me flowers this week after a tiff we had.  That was nice.  Really nice.  He’s not all bad.  And I just noticed that he fixed BigBoy’s curtains that have been broken for over six months.  That was nice. Really nice.  (see, trying to focus on the positive)

It’s just a lot right now.  A lot of change.

But we got sea legs
And we’re off tonight
They can’t have that to which they’ve no right
You belong to a simpler time
I’m a victim to the impact of these words,
And this rhyme.

Sorry, random but poignant reference to my favorite Shins song (“Sea Legs”).

San Elijo State Beach - yeah, this is where we go camping

I find what brings me peace and hope and I pray.  Music helps.  The ocean helps.  We’re camping this weekend at the beach with good friends so I’ll eat, drink, and find merry.  But mostly what I’ll be doing is putting one foot in front of the other and trying to find my rhythm.  The way out is through.  Right, Mary?

Champagne.  It has bubbles.  That will be my drink of choice this weekend.  It will help lift my spirits and find the brighter side.  Clearly, there is a lot to be happy about.  I just need to get my sea legs under me with this change.  Cheers friends.  I hope you’re also finding your new rhythm with school back in session.

*One of my dear Jen friend’s (cuz you know I know over a dozen Jens) advice was to not sign up for too much at kindergarten.  She told me that there will be ample requests for help throughout the year.  However, she said the one thing to be sure to do is to volunteer in the classroom.  Her thinking was that you get to know the children well and their little personalities.  Then you know who to help steer your little dude (or princess) toward and/or away from.  The insightful thought is that mostly these kids don’t change a whole lot from kindergarten into junior high and on up.  You’ll know who’s trouble. 

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He Let the Sunshine In by Celëne

I had an anniversary pass that I’d like to acknowledge.  Last year, July 29^th to be exact, I started writing (somewhat) regularly on this blog.  As I reread Where Have I Been? The answer is right where I started.  I’m still officially an unemployed, stay-at-home mom.  My kids drive me crazy, my sanity sometimes is buried under the weekly 6 loads of laundry and I’m still not having enough sex.  My house is a mess and I probably drink too much and watch too much tv.

But that’s not all necessarily true.  I need to give myself some credit.  Things have changed.  I’ve changed.  I’ve learned a lot this past year.

I know my Life is Good.  I am blessed with a beautiful family, live in a gorgeous area and community, I have a wealth of incredible friends and while I know there will continue to be big decisions to make around our family finances and what’s next on the career/vocation* department, I have faith that it will all work out well, we will be able to take care of ourselves and our future, and we do this with more joy in our lives.  I’m really committed to that outcome.

I also have my hard days: where I just feel blue, deeply contemplative, and challenged, especially by my boys.  I suspect there is some womanly chemistry that is involved and I’m looking into that.  Nonetheless, my life isn’t always a cheery walk in the park.  And I know the way out is through (I continue to credit MMW with that saying.)

I’ve learned that writing is a great form of expression for me.  Doing this blog brings a great release.  It gives my brain an opportunity to settle and at the same time stir up some crazy ideas.  Writing is birthing a new part of me.  I can feel something different inside building up that I really like.  I find it a little scary, kinda weird and a bit inspiring, so I’m just going to keep going in this direction.  I have some blog improvements in mind and I look forward to your feedback and interactions during this process.  I just know that writing my brain on loudspeaker is making a difference for me and I’d love to make a difference for others and how they see their world and lives.  Yeah, kumbaya and all that stuff.

I’ve also learned that I see something familiar, a pattern maybe, about faith and magic and I need to find a way to capture it in words.  My faith is as strong as ever and as I put more focus on understanding and using my faith, it grows.  I realize that this sounds very strange and any words of support and encouragement here are welcome.

Finally, I am learning that good relationships are golden.  I love deeply those where we can fully be ourselves (my sassy, pain-in-the-ass, and charming self) and accept one another’s quirks — laugh about them, call out each other on them, support each other in them, learn from them, share a drink over them and walk together with them.  Those are good friends.  That’s a good husband.  Those are my lovely children that we’re sharing time and space with.  I am rich in this area and want to continue cultivating these lifelong, solid and tenuous, relationships.  Thank you ladies, thank you blog community, thank you Husband, thank you boys, and thank you my dear nuclear and extended family.

Cheers to another good year!

* My awesome friend and co-word nerd, Tiffany Fox, recently posted on Facebook as her status message the following which I love and wanted to share:

‎”The etymology of vocation versus career is most revealing. The word vocation comes from the Latin word ‘vocare’ or ‘to call.’ It denotes a voice summoning a person to a unique purpose. The word career derives from the Latin word for cart and the Middle French word for race track. It denotes quickly moving in a circle,… never going anywhere.” — Brett & Kate McKay, The Art of Manliness

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please ignore my pizza face

I cracked up this morning when BigBoy says to me, “can we go somewhere right now?”  They were running all around so I thought that was probably a good idea.  They need to run out their energy; it helps my sanity.  BigBoy suggested one of our favorite parks.  I packed up a few snacks and got into the van.  As soon as we were backing out our driveway, BigBoy says to me, “Mom, I need a haircut.”  “Really,” I replied.  “Ok with me.  Let me place a call.”  Perfect.  The boys ran around for 30 minutes, then we went for a haircut and had pizza for lunch.  Yeah for BigBoy’s ideas!

Thanks Angry Julie for (almost) Wordless Wednesdays!

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My absolute worst fear is that my boys will get knocked over by a wave and something bad will happen to them.  See, summer is quickly approaching and one of the most awesomest things about living here is that Lola, our boys and I (and many wonderful friends) spend pretty much every Sunday all day at the beach.  The kids go crazy all day, we pack lunch and snacks and lots of sunscreen, the mommas take turns with the kids and some of us actually get to read and relax to the sound of the ocean, a nice warm breeze, and (hopefully) a lot of laughter.  Super bonus rounds happen when I actually get in the ocean and swim and float and swim…ahhh!  (But that usually doesn’t happen until August or September when the water gets really warm, the stars are aligned, everyone has been fed, no one is in a time-out, no kids sees me walk off, etc.)  Let me tell you, beach days rock.  Beach time has been a part of my recovery program, getting over the utter heartbreak of trading SF urban dwelling for the SoCal ‘burbs.  It was hard, but I got over it (with a tan).

So today was the boys’ first swimming lessons.  When the boys were infants, we did a class or two.  BigBoy screamed pretty much through the entire series and Husband couldn’t take it any more, so we quit.  We’ve also been tortured with screaming fits at soccer and t-ball.  We’re to the point that if he doesn’t want to play sports and it’s not fun for him, it’s certainly not fun for us, so why torture ourselves?  So no surprise when the same behavior was displayed at the pool today.  (Though I have to admit I thought that BabyD would have been a bit more bold, knowing his personality, but I suppose he’s taking after his big brother this time).  Yes, they pretty much cried through the whole half hour.  I feel really sorry for the instructor having them back to back in 30-minute lessons.

The manager and instructor told me it was typical and normal and repeatedly said that it was ok.  And I’m not upset or worried about the crying, really I’m not.  I know they were in good hands, but my problem is two fold.  First, how much of their bad attitude am I going to put up with or will I eventually cave?  Just imagine trying to get them into the building with limited tears and tantrums, let alone getting them back into the water.  Secondly, I don’t want to warp them either.  Will they remember the fits or the great fun of swimming once they get there?

I know, stay the course.  Stay strong.  I am.  However, my fortitude completely lies in my belief that it’s a safety issue (yeah, yeah, yeah driven by my fear, whatever).  When I think about it, swimming is pretty much a non-negotiable with me.  You have to learn how to swim, given our geographical location and lifestyle, right?  We live practically at the beach or the community pool during the summertime.  Doesn’t that count for something?  Additionally, I really don’t want my 5 ½ year old in the baby pool all summer while the 2 year old is jumping off the sides into the big pool.  Let’s not even talk about the Big Fear at the beach.  They MUST SWIM dammit!

Am I over thinking this?  Most likely.  Should I make them swim?  I know how to sell it, make this seem like it’s going to be a great, fun experience (because that too is a possible outcome).  I can stay positive.  I do, after all have a sunshine tattooed on my back side.  However, will those water babies wear me down with the wailing?

I think I need a drink.  What do you think of the situation?  Have any words of wisdom?  I could use them.  Cheers.

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Before I get too dark and moody (say Concrete Blonde’s Dance Along the Edge), I do have a great life.  I think if you read enough entries of this blog you will see that I’m deeply grateful and appreciative of the big and little moments in my life.  In fact, I’ve always been one of such a sunny disposition, I literally have a tattoo of a sun on my backside.  Maybe that’s why I know I’m slipping, it’s such a stark contrast.

I also know that others go through this and the path of a SAHM is often a steep one.  Well, I’m on the climb or should I say decline.  Which way is out?  In the moment, I’m not so sure.  I just know I’m so completely frustrated and angry that I could simultaneously scream and cry (which I’ve done).  I have those movie moments in my head when I can see myself doing all sorts of violent things to my (soon-to-be) five year old and then I blink and he’s still there.  Talking.  And talking and talking.  “…and you know what else Mommy?…”  “…and then the garbage truck went [insert sound effects and claw like action here]…”  And then there’s BabyD patting me on the leg saying, “Mommy potty, Mommy potty!”  He needs me to take him to the upstairs potty because for whatever reason he won’t go in the downstairs toilet (and we were just up there, but he didn’t go).  I would have sworn that I sat them down with snacks and plenty of trucks less than 10 minutes ago.

I feed the boys every 1 ½ hours.  I turn on the tv so I can take a shower and reasonably be uninterrupted for 20 minutes.  I get up early in the morning and do a little yoga to set my day right.  I know how to count to 10 and breathe deeply.  I try to get out every day, if not to run them out at a park then for us to run errands together.  Everyone has quiet/nap time for at least an hour.  We eat lunch pretty much about the same time every day (and we eat fruit and vegetables).  I’ve got a good schedule and feel I have a good read on the emotional and energetic needs of the boys.  In general, I feel pretty good about that.  And overall I do have great kids.

But please god oh please, could I get a f’n 15 minutes not interrupted here and there throughout the day???  No.  Evidently I can’t.  Can we go to a store, the post office or the park without a sibling fight, temper tantrum or extreme meltdown?  No. Evidently we can’t.

Please stop hitting your brother.  Please lower your voice.  Please be kind to each other.  Please say you’re sorry.  You come over here and sit by me, the other sit on the chair right here and no more talking.  BigBoy give BabyD his toy back.  Stop yelling (as I scream).  BabyD, leave your brother alone.  One more time and you’re getting a time out.  That’s not a nice thing to say.  That’s back-talking; knock it off.  Yes, I’ll get you more water, crackers, snacks, oranges, bananas, toast, etc.

I say all this and more 10 times a day.  Inside, outside, awake, asleep, everywhere I go.  I want to pull our hair out and I’m not a Trichotillomaniac.  Just a SAHM going slowly crazy.

And I still can’t get through my emails, return a phone call, finish the laundry, do the dishes or clean the kitchen each day.  I’m a Mommy Interrupted.  It’s constant, non-stop and maddening.  I’ve always believed that there is enough room here for everyone to get what they need, but lately I feel what I need is just a couple of moments of solace here and there throughout the day.  They are so F’N DEMANDING, RELENTLESS, LOUD, IRRITATING.  And then two minutes later we will be laughing because one of them did something so completely funny or we start dancing in the kitchen because a good song came on.  It’s all the extreme range of emotions that has me thrown for a loop and thrown close to the edge.

You gotta know I’m a good Mom and typically rather sane and reasonable.  However, I can finally see behind such tragic events of the headlines.  Why do Moms rarely talk about losing their sanity?  Do we just accept that it comes with the territory?  I know I’m not the only one.  I know I don’t need psychiatric help or psychological services, but some community support and acknowledgment that this is real and I’m not going nuts (well maybe that I am and it’s okay) would be much appreciated.

How do you deal?  Mommy on the brink needs to know!  I’d say cheers, but I’ve already had too much!

P.S.  I’d like to thank Bryn and my SIL, Heather, for putting words to the emotions I’ve been feeling lately.  Thanks friends for helping see the light through the dark.

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Bootyliciousness is my biological destiny.  If you’ve ever met my Mom, you could see.  She’s got a big butt and that’s where she gains her weight (she’d also say her arms, but those stay hidden most of the time).  She can’t hide her behind.  It’s not as bad as Jennifer Coolidge’s character in Robots, Aunt Fanny, but (pun intended) you get the picture. (btw, Robots is one of my favorite kid animated movies, a must see if you’re a parent!)

I’ve been up (size 12) and I’ve been down (size 6) through the years and certainly child bearing has contributed to the coming and goings of my fat.  But this time around, I have a new flab.  It’s my squishy center.  Not unlike that box of See’s Candies that I shared over the holidays.  Yes, my stomach area was permanently disfigured when Baby was born. (Oh SOAM, I love you so).  However I believe that after you reach a particular age you shouldn’t wear a two piece bathing suit anyways, so I’m okay with it.  SoCal Moms will loudly disagree, but I wasn’t raised here.  Can I blame this new blob on Baby?  Maybe a little bit.  Is this a part of aging?  Ugh.  I’m not ready to accept that quite yet.

Living in SoCal is a double edged sword.  It’s extremely beautiful here.  While many of you are dealing with freeze and snow days, I’ve got my back patio door open as I write this.  However, people think too much about what they look like here.  Simple fact is that we wear less clothes year around.  I never get to wear my turtlenecks here and I never put away my sandals or tank tops.  Our bodies simply show more.  Our summer starts sometime in April before the May Gray or June Gloom sets in and then it lasts well into September (no, I’m not kidding).  Frankly, this was one of the reasons I was scared to move down here.  You have to think about your body more than where you can hide it under heavy sweaters six months out of the year.  And vanity screws with my sanity.

Well the good news is that I know what to do.  It’s simple, but not always easy.  Get rid of the sweets in the house (working on it, ahem), drink more water (check), walk more (check – Sanity Friday 3 mile beach side walks with Lola), and eat less (shake weekday mornings, chews for snacks, more salads for lunch and sensible dinners).  I know I can’t fight the battle of the bulge by only walking one day a week.  But where to fit in exercise when I’m a SAHM?  How do you Moms do it?

I’ve got to find a low cost, (or preferably no cost) way to exercise.  Yeah, I’ve got DVDs that collect dust and no, I’m not pushing BigBoy and Baby in a stroller.  Maybe I’ll have to reconsider that; the beachside walk is extremely nice.  I want to add dance back into my life.  That’s been a BIG missing since marrying Husband.  It’s not his fault, I know that dog don’t hunt.  So here’s my next mystery, Scooby Doo.  Find joy in exercise.  I’ll find it if dance is involved because to shake my bootie puts a smile on my face.  And I’ll keep coming back for more.  I know myself.  Dance brings me great joy.  So I must find a way to do this.  I’m open to suggestions.  Let’s hear it, friends.  I’m going to do some research with my glass of Cupcake Sauvignon Blanc tonight.  Because that’s one piece of sweetness, I’m not giving up.  Cheers!

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In a strange way I’d love to live in the mess for a week longer.  You know New Year’s is this weekend.  That could me my excuse.  But I know myself and this mess is gonna have to get cleaned up.  I just want to relish that holiday feeling a bit longer.  I love the magic of the season.  I love seeing the kids get so excited and screaming with delight.  Playing with cousins.  The adults playing cards with each other.  Setting aside our differences so that we can enjoy one another a bit more.  These are precious times.  So precious.  I should have taken more pictures.

But now I’m left with literally a mountain of trash, wrappings, boxes and bows to go through (what to keep, what to throw away).  And to fold two weeks of laundry that didn’t get done in all the mayhem and mania of the holiday season.  All these great toys need to find a place to fit in and be put away.  There are numerous toys that broke during the first round of playtime and things that didn’t fit that need to be returned.  I need to face the harsh reality of the money that we spent.

So yes, I feel like I’m coming off the high and waking up with a bit of a head ache.  I want to embrace the day with hope and happiness, but a touch of melancholy, the sober thoughtfulness that it is.  I’ll be thinking of what this New Year will bring–the shape, color and intentions that I’ll be holding.  I don’t typically go with resolutions, because I forget about them after 3 months anyway.  So I try to think longer term.  2010 is just another mile in my marathon of a life, after all.  I’ll be looking forward, but first I have to see what is right in front of me, the arduous task of cleaning up after the party.

Cheers friends!  This is not my favorite thing to do, but it must be done.  Save the champagne for me when it’s all over.

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Ok look, it may simply be that any house guest that stays with us for 18 days I’d feel the same way about.  But this is Husband’s Mother and she comes from Toronto so I know she wants to stay and enjoy the boys for as long as she can.  I’m perfectly clear now (as if I wasn’t before) that she’s not here to spend time with me.  It is all about her son and grandkids.  I’m ancillary to the whole process.  However and strangely enough, I’m the one that’s home with her the most.  I guess I do have fantasies about us doing girly things together like shopping, laughing over lunch, or enjoying each other’s company, but I really need to reset my expectations.  Much, much lower.  We share so few interests.  Well, ok, except Husband and the kids, but that’s already been established.

I make great efforts at being a good daughter-in-law.  To prepare for her visit I get distilled water for her sleeping machine, I fill the cupboards with snacks, plan meals taking into consideration all the things she doesn’t like, put the beautiful flowers outside as not to aggravate her allergies, I wash all the sheets in detergent for sensitive skin.  I prepare every dinner and breakfast on the weekends.  I even ask her to plan and cook a dinner one or two days a week.  I invite her to my social events.  I go shopping with her at the big lady store and help her pick out clothes (that she usually buys).  I ask for parenting advice and honestly seek her input.  However, a thank you for dinner every once in a while would be nice.  Patting me on the back and saying that I’m doing a good job with the house, the kids, or my husband would be great too.  I feel like she makes zero effort toward our relationship or saying anything nice to me.  It’s like we just exist here together and my house is getting smaller with all the crap lying around.  God knows I’m not picking up after her too.  But I do try to contain it a bit.

After inviting her to three social events and her continually declining I asked why.  She said she just wanted to be “with her family.”  “But I’m your family too,” sounding more desperate than I wanted.  “Yeah, but I’m with you all day,” she replied.  Okay.  I get it.  And I need to let go that when she asks for family pictures before she leaves that I’m not included that either.

She’s an awesome Grandma.  She brings lots and lots of toys for the kids.  She eagerly puts them to bed, changes diapers, dresses them in the morning, reads them books and plays games.  I love that.  I really do.  I’m so glad that my kids will really know their Grammie & Grampie well.  They are also very generous when it comes to their gifts.  My FIL slept in our bed while we were away in Palm Springs over night (post coming!).  And ewww…yes, I was freaked out that he voluntarily slept there without an invitation or sheet change.  (But I’m working on getting over it!)  Anyway, for Christmas he decided to get us a new bed, a really nice one.  Very generous and so-not on my Christmas list.  But yes, thankful nonetheless.  Our old bed was (tainted now that he slept there) and lumpy.  And it was awesome that they were okay with Husband & I getting out of town for 24 hours.

I feel guilty in all my complaining.  Really, it could be worse.  I know that.

Truthfully I’m tired, frustrated and want to let these hurt feelings go.  I want to reorganize the house and claim it back!  I should have done more writing and yoga while she was here.  That would have helped.  I should have said the serenity prayer more.  That may have also helped.  I wish I didn’t sweat the small stuff with her here.  (Thanks Maria for the advice, you’re right.  I do need to shut up and get over it!)

I honestly did try the path of acceptance but found it really rocky and my feet are sore. I tried the path of avoidance and hid out in my room more.  That was nice.  I tried having a better sense of humor but all I could hear was my evil, dark angel on my shoulder saying things that I shouldn’t say out loud (it still helped me get through though).

Well, the one thing that I know I can control is how long she’ll be visiting next time.  I think 14 days is more than enough.   We will never do 18 days again while I’m a SAHM.  Who’s laughing now?  Me.  And yes, it’s my dark angel laugh.  I’m going to go pour a large of glass of wine.  To hell with it.  I don’t care that it’s 2:00.  I’m celebrating.  I learned my lesson.

P.S. Thank you to LOL Dogs for the image.  They are always good for a few laughs.

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First stop, BevMo.  You know today was the last day of the 5 cent sale.  Gotta stock pile while you can.  Yes, we walked over to TJ Maxx to return that ridiculous blouse.  (What ever was I thinking?)  And we were all laughs, the boys were running, the sun was shining down…la la la.  They had a snack to keep the good mood going on our Monday routine.  On to the grocery store we go.

We were fine going in.  But I did something stupid.  To be nice, I gave the boys a chocolate donut.  Ok, I got a bite too.  But that was really dumb of me looking back.  Typically, I swing by the bakery section for a sugar cookie, but they weren’t into it and saw the chocolate donuts with sprinkles.  I was suckered in for the moment.  I. Will. Never. Do. That. Again.

I won’t go into the total gory details.  Let’s just cut to the chase.  BabyD has a complete meltdown in the dairy section.  Screaming so loudly.  He wants down.  Because he’s a total Californian, he also thinks he can walk around the grocery store bare footed.  I think that’s gross.  So no.  He doesn’t like that.  He won’t sit down in the cart.  He won’t walk with shoes.  More screaming.  I hold. I bribe. I pat his back.  I give him a time out against the yogurts.  Nothing works.  Just 3 more items to go.  He weighs 35 pounds and I cannot (and will not) carry him and push the cart while BigBoy is on the end.  I can’t steer for god’s sakes.  Still screaming and I can’t tell if I purchased the pork chops on sale or not.  Shit.

Do I just leave this full basket right here and yank my kids out of the store?  Only 2 more items to go.  Can’t we pull it together and get out of here calmly?  A lady approaches offering anything in her cart to make the screaming stop.  Another lady nods with sympathy.  BabyD is still screeching down the cracker isle.  An old lady humphs, gives me the stink eye, and puts her fingers in her ears as I walk by.  Really. I’m not kidding. [read the title of this post]

I actually get him calmed down enough to help me unload the cart. Somewhat.  Still a mild level of sobbing.  I’m forced to pick him up, sorta steer (just barely missed the big woman in the electric cart).  Let’s just get out of here!!!  People were staring.  I get to the car, unload, get in, and pull out of the parking lot and scream.  A few times.  Now BigBoy’s crying because I’ve scared him.  I apologize and I think he really gets it.  He’s tired of BabyD crying too.

I need to rearrange when I do the grocery shopping.  I can’t do it with two.  Forget it.  Yes, I’m an idiot and gave him the donut.  Yes, it was close to his nap time.  But the last two times we were at the grocery store were challenging too.  I’ve got to make a change to save myself.  This was TOO MUCH.

Nap time then wasn’t long enough and there was another round of melt downs later in the day.  Somehow, I got through it and eventually got past my anger and frustration.  5:30 couldn’t come fast enough.  Here’s the funny part.  BigBoy at dinner said that it would all be better if BabyD was a big brother too.  Husband and I had to laugh.  What else are you going to do after a day like today?  Cheers, I’m having three glasses tonight.

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Here’s what I learned.  I need more quiet time.  Plain and simple.

I realize that being a SAHM (stay at home mom) means that you’re home a lot.  Sure you might leave the house during the week to run errands, go to the park, or to the library.  But when do you really have a day off?  NEVER.  You come home to “your work.”  Ok, I realize that some women may be offended by relating my kids and home to work.  But I take my job seriously (and not so seriously too!  We have lots of fun and laughs).  Nonetheless, for me, being a SAHM is WORK.  I’ve been having a hard time legitimizing that!

My husband gets to GO to work then come home.  My home (and family) is my work.  I live in my work place.  I think I’ve been feeling the effects of what it must be like to work to live.  Work is never done.  I have felt overwhelmed and equally underwhelmed of late.  I’ve lost a sense of myself (probably at the bottom of the toy box) and I’ve dug my head under books and Bejeweled Blitz (damn that game!) to hide out and wallow.  I feel like I’ve been dazed and confused.

I used to work (out of the home) and it cost me.  It cost my sense of humor; perspective of my family and finances; and particularly my relationship with BigBoy (we like each other so much more now).  I always felt like I was just barely dog paddling enough to keep my head out of the water.  For those working moms who are keeping it together, I applaud you.  It’s fast paced dance, so good for you if you can keep up with the rhythm with some sort of grace and joy.

So enough complaining.  Lola helped to lift the fog.  I see that if I spent some more time engaged in the activities that I know take care of me, I’ll be happier, healthier, and have my head on straight.  Enough of the hitting myself on the head for not getting everything done.  I’m not gonna get it all done.  I know that.  I will find more joy and ease in my life (not to mention a sense of accomplishment in my day) if I do my meditations (5 minutes helps), morning yoga (5 sun salutations), and journaling (blogging helps too!).  I learned some great techniques for staying on the positive side of life from another great friend and teacher, Rita Hovakimian, that I know work!  So I’ve pulled out my old notebook from her class and started reading and writing.  Yeah!

I’ve always been a big supporter of afternoon quiet time (for all of us).  BigBoy doesn’t have to sleep, but play quietly in his room and Baby goes down for his nap.  Recently, I’ve not been rigorous about the amount of time, but I’m reinstating the 1-1/2 hour afternoon minimum (but I’d like to shoot for 2 hours!).  This is when I get to do what I want, not laundry or dishes (out of obligation), but uninterrupted time to lunch, relax, write, and read (moderately).  And yes, I’m blessed because I have kids that can stay (relatively) quietly in their own rooms.  The truth of the matter is that I need my down time.  It helps me listen to the unending story of garbage trucks just a little bit longer in the evening.  It helps me not want to yell at my husband when he walks in the door.  It helps me complain less and love this life a little more.  Because I really do cherish this time.

I also have Annie Witzmann to thank for taking care of my boys on Fridays.  I call them Sanity Fridays.  I get to do my own stuff without the boys.  It’s like a weekend (pre-kids) crammed into 8-hours.  Sometimes I pay the bills (I’ve learned that uninterrupted time means that they go on time with the right amounts!) and clean house, but other times I go to the movies (saw Whip It and loved it!) or walk on the beach.  So thank you god for having me hear this message.  Got it.  Shhh!  It’s quiet time.  Cheers and THANK YOU friends!

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