It sucked, but I did it

That is my mantra from the weekend.

It was pouring rain Friday night, I was completely exhausted and we had a dinner to go to at the school with lots of kids running around, seriously mediocre food and nowhere to sit near anyone we knew.

It sucked, but I did it.

It rained all night and Saturday morning it was dark and rainy. We had to get up at 7AM to go kick off girl scout cookie sales in front of the grocery store. It was wet and people were grumpy.

It sucked, but I did it.

After the cookie sales were over I had to get groceries--with my children.

It sucked, but I did it.

After GMan got home, I hadn't been out since Monday because my knee was sore. My knee actually felt pretty good but the rest of it was serious drudgery, I just didn't feel good doing it.

It sucked, but I did it (18 minutes running/12 walking).

I know, nothing earth shattering but I've been seriously burning it at both ends and the weekends are just not a break. Sad to say the high point might have been Abby's soccer game being cancelled due to the weather.

Crisis and crafts

That pretty much sums up the week. At work it has been one small problem after another with something I am working on. I get calls from guys and I can tell by the tone of their voice that I don't want to hear what comes next. Today's first call was we think we completely killed the whole test we were doing, that set me up to be relieved hours later when they called back to say only 1/4 of it was unusable. Sometimes I feel like the priest to whom they feel comfortable confessing since they know I don't have the power to do anything other than help them fix it. Its equally exhausting and exhilarating trying to figure out how to put humpty back together again. Its funny, I am the only woman in this particular circle and it always falls to me to bring everyone back to the table to figure out what to do next--they will do it two by two but never involving everyone who needs to know. Job security!

After a run to camp in the morning, the full day of fire fighting then its off to Vacation Bible School. We are doing Group's Avalanche Ranch program. The last few years it has been absolutely exhausting. There have been 30-40 kids, we start with dinner, songs,then bible study and crafts and call it a night. It makes for a long day when it starts more than 12 hours earlier. This year there aren't a lot of kids from outside our congregation, the kids are getting a little older and know each other better and dare I say it has actually been enjoyable and only semi-exhausting. We have a new member who is a pianist for a dinner theater and she SO rocks! The music is awesome. With the western theme there is even line dancing.

I am the craft lady. We've done journals (in the picture above), t-shirts, boot birdhouses and bears for a mission project. The kids hated the journals, had a hard time doing the lacing and are still complaining about it days later. Other than that its gone more smoothly than I would have imagined. We are coasting now, tomorrow night is picture frames with portraits that Gman took to go inside--yes, these took too much effort to be called pictures, they were portraits complete with the entire studio set-up and green screen. Here are Boobah and PDQ for your viewing pleasure.

What makes ME a Mom? My Mom-ness

Ever since Parent Bloggers Network announced their blog blast for Mother's Day I have been pondering what it is that makes me a Mom. At work, playing with the kids, cooking dinner, in traffic, laying in bed I've been thinking about my Mom-ness.

The first thought that comes to mind is the day my first daughter was born. I'd felt awful for weeks and attributed it to heartburn (and later found out it was HELLP syndrome). I'd suffered through daily finger sticks because of gestational diabetes. I got a call from one of the doctor's in my OB practice who said in a semi-concerned voice, we'd like you to come to the hospital to repeat some blood work, it would be good to pack your things, you might be staying. I mean, I knew it was coming, I desperately wanted to not be pregnant and not feel like hell but I was scared. Sure enough they kept me, they gave me an epidural that didn't work, they broke my water when I was 1 cm to try and get things moving, they started the mag sulfate that made me feel even worse, my husband slept while I suffered, the nice nurse left, then dawn broke, the epidural was fixed and the new OB on duty said you are having this baby NOW and 17 minutes later she joined this world. Tiny and perfect. Hearing that cry welcomed me to Mom-ness. Suffering through that first night alone in L&D still being pumped full of drugs to keep my blood pressure under control knowing that no matter how bad I felt *I* was responsible for this little life was a real eye opening experience and believe me, it was ALL I could do to keep my eyes opens. I remember being terrified to say anything to anyone because they might take her away but I couldn't believe they kept leaving her with me to nurse. I could barely hold up my own head. But I did it, there was a determination there that I'd never, ever felt before. What an introduction to the sleepless nights, worrying if the baby was breathing, worrying whether the baby was eating, worrying if the baby was pooping, worrying about the vaccinations, worrying if I was doing anything right, worrying that my parents were going to leave (and to think I'd worried that they were coming to stay for a week) and lots of worrying about going back to work. That determination, responsibility and worry all have a name-unconditional love.

We lived through infant hood--twice (well Gman gets a big gold star for living through it FOUR times)! The story I often relay about when I *really* knew I was a Mom is story of the movie, the vomit and the poncho. Boobah was a little less than two years old and I was blessedly inexperienced of taking care of sick kids. Gman once went seven years without missing a day of work because he was sick, thankfully the girls inherited his immune system--we've been asked more than once at the pediatrician's office--she goes to daycare?--when they see the very, very thin chart. She had been throwing up on and off during the week but had been 36 hours vomit free when we decided it was safe to take her to the movies with friends--her first. We get to the movies with our friends and their three young girls stair stepped between ours. We sat in the front row of the back section. Lots of room for the kids to roam if needed and room to park the stroller. I thought the fact that Boobah curling up on my lap was a good sign, maybe she'd fall asleep in my lap and I could enjoy the movie--Robots--if I remember correctly. About 3 minutes later, all hell or rather lunch, broke loose. Boobah sat up and spewed toxic waste. My pre-Mom instinct to get the hell out of the way had vanished. I did the Mom-ly thing and caught the vile red tinged chunks (because my children only puke pizza, spaghetti sauce or other tomato based products) in her little purple poncho. Those are Mom instincts pure and simple, you can't be taught that it just suddenly comes out of you born from unconditional love!

So I guess what makes me a Mom is the overwhelming sense of responsibility for everything about this little person who can't do anything for themselves. The responsibility to teach them, the keep them safe, to nourish their body and soul. And for me that comes with worry--is this babysitter good enough, will that preschool be okay, what is me going to work doing to the, do they watch too much TV, where the heck did they learn to pole dance and what will people think of THAT? As they grow the shades of responsibility change but its still about food, safety and making their way in the world. The worry changes a bit too, its not so much about what I am doing its more about what are they going to do. The other part of motherhood that has blown me away is unconsciousness of putting someone else first. Would I catch vomit by choice--no. For my kid, there was no thought, I just did it. There are lots of things that I way over think but when I just let the instincts take over I am a better Mom for all of us. I like to think of it as just letting the love do its job.

My final thought on what makes me a Mom, all the stuff I learned from the Moms who came before me and the Moms who are sharing Mom-ness with me now. I come from a long line of old ladies. I lost three great-grandmothers since 2000 they were 96, 98 and 101 and I have good memories of each of them. They endured a lot and overcame it to share their experience with three generations. My grandmothers both turned 80 in the last 4 months and are phenomenal women. They are as different as day and night and from that I've learned lots of lessons about who I want to be as a Mom and a Grandma and maybe more importantly who I don't. My mother is a force unto the universe. A working Mom role model when most Moms didn't work. I am surrounded by wonderful Moms of my generation who teach me new stuff, make me think and in the process make me a better Mom. We are teaching each other to be a Mom in a time and a place that is so different from the one we grew up in. I feel privileged to share with them in real life and in world wide web.

Tag, you are it. Join in the blog blast sponsored by Light Iris and Parent Bloggers Network and grab your chance to win a $100 Spa Finder gift certificate. Just post about what makes YOU a Mom. Send a link to your post to parentbloggers@gmail.com for your chance to win.

Maven Says: Even June Cleaver Would Forget the Juice Box

Whenever I have an issue, my first thought is to go read all about it--the bookstore, library or the Internet. With one exception, my dirty little secret I typically avoid parenting books. Pretty early on in the parenting gig I figured out that a lot of the books I read made me feel bad about what ever I was doing even when my gut was telling me that it was right. Battling through PDQ the sleepless and trying all those other ideas, I finally decided that the combination of my gut and Gman's many years of experience we'd be okay. That theory has worked pretty well but in my avoidance of reading of the parenting genre I have totally missed Mommy reading. If there were nothing else of value in Ann Dunnewold's book Even June Cleaver Would Forget the Juice Box: Cut Yourself Some Slack (and Still Raise Great Kids) in the Age of Extreme Parenting) the reading list I accumulated as I read would be so worth it. The reading list is just the tip of the iceberg though, the real life, common sense tone of this book alternately made me see the silliness of some of my SuperMommy thinking and made me feel better about the majority of my parenting choices, a very fine line when you think about it. Kind of like telling me to go to hades and me wanting to go there!

Right after I agreed to review the book I had the taking time for yourself discussion with a couple of friends and wrote about it here. When the book arrived I immediately carried it up to my room to begin reading. I saw myself in the first pages of the first chapter doing things like staying up all night making the perfect cookies for a preschool party to assuage my Mommy Guilt for working. There have been many occasions where I have not been able to be present at an event and to make myself feel better I have WAY overdone it on the cookies/goodie bag or whatever other thing I've taken on. I always knew it my gut that it was silly but reading it in print made me cringe just a bit and maintain the ability to laugh at myself. The concept of the "perfectly good mom" was introduced and I was hooked. Perfection is impossible, being "clearly good" or "as good as is necessary" are doable and who doesn't want to feel successful as a parent? Life overcame my reading time and I wasn't able to pick the book up for over a week but in that time I must have had half a dozen discussions with other women (and a guy or two) about the concept of not trying to be perfect but perfectly good. It provoked many insightful conversations, particularly with the older, wiser, been-there-done-that women that I am lucky to have in my life. As I finished the book I found that I had worked ahead, the last chapter was about building a strong support network and spreading the word and actively speaking out and standing up for yourself in the insane competition for Mommy of the Century.

Dunnewold explores the messages we are inundated with that encourage us to be perfect. She lays out the traps of overperfecting, over protecting, and overproducing. As I read about these I could certainly see a little of myself and nearly every other Mom I know. Some of us more than others and each with our unique quirky take on the madness. The mantras like, "there are no perfect mothers" and "parenting is not a contest" seem like common sense but for me, and I am sure many others they are easy to forget everyday in the trenches. I appreciated that Dunnewold left room for each of our own idiosyncrasies, we can each have one or two things that we obsess over and if we can just chill out about everything else, that is fine. Its that tone that makes this book a real winner for me, no judgement just showing the reader that what they think is right probably is and its good to follow your mind and heart. In that vein she encourages you to look at your values, know them and follow them.

I would recommend Even June Cleaver Would Forget the Juice Box to anyone who feels the pressure of the Mommy Olympics. There is no us vs. them in this book, I could see the SAHM struggles more clearly and I felt that it represented the issues of the working mom as well. Instead of pitting us against each other Dunnewold calls for us to work together for our health and to raise healthy kids in today's world. I'll offer up just a bit of my own insanity in my posts about staying up until midnight to get into Summer Camp or spending months picking out the "right" preschool and the huge allergic reaction that I wasn't there for. This book reaffirmed for me that I need to chill out, know what I believe in and follow my gut. If you want to hear other takes on the book, head on over to Parent Bloggers Network for 24 more reviews of the book.

Mixed Blessing

My parents are coming today to help out with the kids for the next couple of days while PDQs babysitter is having surgery. Then, on Saturday they are taking the kids back home with them for the week of Spring Break. When I originally asked if they’d come out and help for a couple of days it was just part of the childcare calculus plan. When they came to visit for PDQs birthday my Mom inquired about it being Spring Break and offered to take them back home for the week. I was hesitant at first, trying to figure out why that wasn’t a good idea but couldn’t find anything other than it wasn’t part of my carefully calculated plan (and I’d miss them, a lot).

Now its here, my girls are leaving on Saturday morning and we will join them at the end of next week and enjoy a long Easter weekend with my family. This week has been seriously chaotic, there is something going on every night and some nights more than one thing, I feel like I haven’t spent nearly enough time with the girls next week and next week I will mope because I miss them. Don’t get me wrong, we have something planned for Sunday, Monday and Tuesday of next week with only grown-ups. I have at least one small home improvement project planned (G-man—surprise!). And I am relishing the thought of not having morning time fights about getting ready or trying to keep track of anyone but myself (and maybe G-man just a tiny bit).

So the other scary part of the tale, my mother, alone in my house for 3 hours tomorrow morning and then with the kids all day on Friday. It used to make me nuts that she’d come to my house and clean. Now I’ve realized that no matter the state of cleanliness when she arrives she’ll find something to clean-up. Now I either plan a project for her or I just leave the mess to give her something to do. Still, so many hours alone gives me a small dose of anxiety. Not so bad if she could just do the cleaning but when I have to hear it its reminiscent of nails on the chalkboard. Boobah seems to be channeling her, the other day when I told her the size 3 pants didn’t fit her anymore she went upstairs and took ALL of them out of her drawers and put them in a pile to give away. She isn’t such a great help for G-man or I but when Grammy is there she follows her around like a little shadow helping out. Could we bottle that?

So, if you had a child-free week what would you do? What would you miss the most about the kids? What would you not miss at all?