(TCBTB)

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

celebrate/resolve.

"Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it." 
-Mary Oliver

This was a year worth celebrating.

I'm celebrating my baby. She's growing and thriving, changing and learning, laughing and loving.

I'm celebrating my marriage. J.J. and I haven't deserted each other quite yet, despite the exponential increase in batshit-craziness, directly correlated to the severe decrease in hours spent sleeping.

I'm celebrating my support system. I maintained connections with my biggest support as a mother (my new moms' group) and am starting to reconnect with pre-baby friends (harder than I anticipated).

And the biggest change worth celebrating: I listened to my heart and my soul, and I left my job to be home with my girl. And (bonus!) I haven't had to sell my home or possessions or body yet to make that work.


Taken during my first week home with her...can't believe how little she was.

What really amazes me is that if you had asked me on New Year's Eve 2013 if I thought ANY of this would happen, I absolutely would have said no. Sure, I assumed Rowan would keep growing and do reasonably well, but it's unbelievable to me that she is who she is these days - a sharp, empathetic, thoughtful, funny, helpful, and sweet toddler. As for J.J. and me, we're weathering one of the most challenging times in a relationship - becoming parents - and we're still standing. I can't say I was always the best version of myself, or that he was of himself, but we're here. Together. And I thought for sure that I'd lose touch with the dozen or so mamas I met through a new mothers' group a few weeks after Rowan was born, mainly because I always had to work on their designated play day - Tuesday. So wrong! We had plenty of Monday and evening gatherings early in the year, and soon enough, I was done with work and able to meet whenever - Tuesdays at the pool, Thursdays at the park, weeknights for pedicures or dinner or book club. Thank goodness, too, because I credit that group with a hefty portion of my sanity.

And, finally, I left my job. The least likely of all the unlikely things that happened in 2014. It's still such a shock to me. I can't pretend I'm not anxious about what the next step is, or when it will happen, or how it will happen...but I can definitely celebrate that I moved on. Against the odds, against my better judgement, against expectations: I moved on.

So I'm celebrating 2014 as a year of (good) surprises, gratitude, changes, and bliss. And if all these crazy-wonderful things happened this year, it's kind of hard to imagine what could happen in 2015. I guess I've learned that anything could happen.

...And, of course, my first instinct is to be cautious and not imagine what amazing things are coming my way. Because doesn't that mean that terrible things could happen, too? Yes. Absolutely. Which brings us to my first and only resolution this year: Let the pessimism go.

Let the pessimism go. Resolve to celebrate.

That's a huge challenge for me. Know why? Because I'm superstitious. Not Michael-Scott-little-stitious:


(www.theofficeisms.com)
No, I'm really superstitious. Super-duper-bordering-on-cuckoo-stitious. I'm afraid to celebrate. I'm afraid to be grateful. Because doesn't there have to be a balance? Am I just asking for the other shoe to drop? Haven't I seen horrible things happen to great people? Why would I invite karma to even things out? I think people operate on the spectrum of optimism and pessimism, and that temperament has a lot to do with which way you skew. But my pessimism? It's not serving me well. I find myself sitting on the couch in a fit of nerves because I just know Rowan is going to wake up early from nap and be grouchy all afternoon...when I have the choice to just roll with it, because who knows when or why she'll wake up? Or I find myself slipping down the rabbit hole of worrying about money, even though right now, things are managed. Or - you should have seen the tizzy I worked myself into when I realized my last day of work was Friday the 13th. That felt like a damn SIGN, and not a good one. Yeah...the negativity overwhelms me.

I remember thinking the other day, "What if I just weren't negative about this right now?" I think it had to do with the construction my next-door neighbors are planning - an addition to their house that's supposed to take months. I imagined all the different ways Rowan's naps would be demolished right along with their deck, and I panicked. I posted in my new moms' group on Facebook, asking for advice, and pretty much across the board, my friends said, "Some days it might suck; most days, it'll probably be fine." A light bulb went on. I don't have control over this. Whatever's going to happen will happen. The only thing I have control over is whether I'm negative or positive in my thought patterns.

So that's it. Let the negativity go. I'm familiar with all sorts of little cognitive-behavioral techniques to help me shift gears. The first and foremost one? Recognition. When am I negative? (Hint: all the time.) I'll need to become aware of triggers, of patterns, of barriers to positivity. And then I can start shifting - my internal dialogue, my magical thinking ("If I worry about X, then it won't happen"), my knee-jerk reactions.

The goal isn't to become a shiny, happy optimist (ahh, look, already tempering that positive attitude! lol). Really, though, it's just to release as much of the negativity as I can. It's hard to imagine doing that, but like I said before, think of all the things that happened in 2014 that I wouldn't have predicted. So let's say it could happen...that it will happen. After all, I know the happiness is there. I found it this past year, I felt it this past year. It's there for the taking. So I'm choosing to grab it. And to quote the great Michael Scott once again, "That's what she said."

Happy New Year. Here's to looking up.



(And don't think I don't have a fun little New Year's to-do list for the house - AKA, more resolutions - lurking around. 'Cause you know I do.)

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

re-re-reorganizing.

When we redid the kitchen, we (purposefully) ended up with empty spaces. Empty drawers, empty shelves, empty cupboards - all of which I expected would be filled with "baby stuff" when the time came.

Well, the time came...and stayed...and exploded everywhere. The baking cupboard became the baby cupboard (for baby food items, not...misbehaving infants), the pots & pans drawer became the baby-safe odds-and-ends drawer (think vinyl lunch bags as opposed to cast iron pots), and eye-pleasing, clutter-free counter space became the new baby-item drying rack location. Decorative bowls or baskets are either overflowing or have been removed to create more storage space for ALL THE BABY STUFF.


Jam-packed cupboard where I can never find anything...with the decorative addition of a never-
referenced conversion chart, empty hooks (for measuring cups), and a breast milk storage guide.



Former fruit bowl = current "I don't know, just stick that random baby item there" bowl.
(Also note decapitated giraffe-measuring spoon on ledge.)


It definitely doesn't bother me that our sweet baby girl has a lot of baggage, so to speak. We're lucky to have what we have. The problem is that our overall spaces are becoming less functional and more frustrating, primarily because I haven't been intentional with where everything is going. Sippy cups, bibs, food pouches, spoons, bottles...I've just been shoving them in a cupboard or basket and calling it good. But lately we've hit a new stage in feeding her, both in terms of moving to more sophisticated foods/food tools (good-bye, Baby Bullet; hello, insane variety of cups to try and then soundly reject) and in terms of breastfeeding coming to an end (time to pack away all the pumping items YASSSSS). Likewise, Rowan was apparently a very good girl this year, and Santa + ridiculously generous family members = more stuff. Stuff that we're excited about and grateful for, no doubt - but still stuff that needs to go somewhere, including some fantastic new art supplies.

So, it's time for some early spring cleaning! Solstice cleaning? What can I say, I love a good to-do list this time of year. Here's what needs to happen:


  • Sort toys. Rowan has outgrown some toys and has a plethora of new ones. The hardest part of this for me is deciding what can be retired for now. Her pull-to-stand activity table? Her push walker? Stacking rings? She still gets joy and entertainment out of these; are they worth keeping on the main floor, where they take up so much space? Parents - any tips on choosing??
  • Reorganize the baby food cupboard. Time to pack up the infant stuff and either move the remaining essentials (utensils, bowls, cups, food pouches, bibs) to a better space, or make the current space way more user-friendly. Glass baby food jars hopping out of the cupboard when I open the door is not what I consider "user-friendly."
  • Do some moving and shaking. I still need to switch our CD collection to a CD binder (we're not ready to go totally digital with our music yet) and make some tough ("tough") decisions about my tapes and records - all in the name of moving them out of Rowan's reach and creating more storage space for her toys. Our board game cupboard and TV cupboard could stand some consolidating as well, which might actually create space for Rowan's art supplies.
  • She doesn't use her magnet board for anything except removing all the magnets in one fell swoop. Fun as that is to clean up seventy-two times a day, there must be a reason she's not motivated to use the board. Location? Developmental level? The fact that I stopped letting her eat the magnets when they started splintering? Time to get to the bottom of that, especially if that space is going to be the art space, and figure out whether and where to keep the magnet board.
This space next to the pantry bugs me...not well-utilized at all.

I need to do some major Internet stalking and figure out how other parents organize kid spaces. I hate to take toys away just because I can't figure out where to put them, but I get super overwhelmed when there's not a spot for everything. Plus, Rowan's a helpful cleaner-upper right now, and having designated places for specific toys facilitates that big-time. My biggest question marks:
  • Puzzles - how do you store them so that they're accessible, but so the pieces don't fall out everywhere?
  • Stuffed animals - stupid */&#$ing stuffed animals are unattractive and take up space, but are sooooo loved (and therefore impossible to get rid of).
  • Bulky plastic primary-colored toys - the pull-to-stand table, a grow-with-me chair, a huge truck, an entertainment cube. She uses them often and likes them a lot, but some are ugly and all are too big to be shoved into a bucket, box, cupboard, or storage ottoman.
  • Toys she's clearly outgrown - the swing, the Exersaucer, the Rock 'N' Play: They're all piled up in our basement and probably growing rat babies and spider colonies. WTF do I store them?
Hoping I can get moving on these projects while J.J. is off work over the next week! I'm open to any suggestions from veteran parents...and by "open," I mean "seriously, tell me what to do before I panic and default to a cleansing bonfire followed by a philosophical shift to only playing with sticks and bedding." Whatever works, right?

Monday, December 15, 2014

plz & thx.

Dear sweet little baby girl who keeps waking up way too early (read: exhausted and cranky and intolerable for five full hours before bedtime) from her one and only daytime nap,

Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping.
Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping. Please keep sleeping.

...Until, like, 2:30. Or 3:30. Please? PLEASE.

Love,
Mama

ETA: 2:30. I'll take it. She cried out at 2:02...literally the very second I hit "power" on the TV remote. Because somehow, she always knows when I sit down to relax while she's sleeping. HOW DO THEY DO THAT? Whatever. At least she woke up happy. (And after more than an hour.)

Monday, December 8, 2014

the dance of ambivalence.

I feel it at every turn lately.

The duality is maddening. I'm thrilled and thankful every single day to be home with my girl. I'm not exaggerating. Every. Single. Day.

But. A few things are eating at me. (Read: eating me alive.)

First, I did this - quit my job - without a financial plan other than scrimp, save, siphon from my savings, and get a different job at some point. We're doing all right overall; we're able to make the mortgage payments and put dinner on the table. Still, it creeps in here and there, the fact that I have no income. It's big things, like that I'm not contributing to retirement or a college fund for Rowan. It's also little things, which bother me more than I anticipated...like not being able to eat at my favorite restaurants or buy new clothes.

Second, the comparisons I'm making between myself and others are out of control. I'm jealous of my mom friends who work part-time at jobs they're passionate about. I'm jealous when my dad mentions that a sibling recently joined the "six-figure club". I'm jealous when my old roommate gets a hefty promotion. I'm jealous when I see families taking vacations...even just a weekend away. I'm jealous when I realize that my peers are crawling out of student poverty and jetting right to selling their starter homes and choosing country clubs.

Third, I'm just - ambivalent. It's the strangest feeling: I can carry on through an entire day feeling like I'm living my Oprah-approved Best Life, the very life I barely dared to dream of this time last year. I'm a stay-at-home mama. Unreal. But - and I knew this from the get-go - this. is. not. financially. sustainable. The obvious answer is to get a job...something part-time, low-key, with way less responsibility than my previous position. Just get a job! Duh.

And I can't. What the hell job am I supposed to get at this point? I'm thirty-four. My "career" crashed and burned, and it's doubtful I'll ever be able to salvage anything from that wreckage. I have no freaking clue what I'm supposed to do now. Obviously, there are things that my lack of talent or training preclude me from doing. I'm not going to be a math professor or a tennis phenom or a cancer specialist. What scares me is that I can't get my shit together to apply for the other jobs, the ones I know I could do. Office jobs, or something with kids, or...you know, whatever.

But I can't, because I don't want to. I want to want it.

And that's where I'm scared that I really messed up. I poured all of my resources into the fields I felt passionate about, and I burned out early. Now what? Do I just have to do something I don't want to do? Early childhood and social work - that's where my talents, training, and background are. That's all I've got. Without those...I don't know. I don't know myself anymore. Becoming a parent totally rearranged my identity, which was a mind-warp for sure, but leaving my career? I feel like that made me lose my identity.

If it's a matter of making ends meet, then you do what you have to do, right? Definitely. And I would; I will. But I can't ignore the duality: the fact that I'm so proud of myself for leaving a toxic situation and living my dream, but that I'm also so, so, so disappointed in myself. For succumbing to burnout, for giving up, for having to start from scratch, for having no direction. In the six months since I quit my job, the pride has mostly outweighed the disappointment. Lately, though, the fear and anxiety (and, fine, the jealousy) are surging. I need to know what's next, and it's a big fucking abyss of NO VIABLE OPTIONS.

Bed. Bed is the only viable option when it gets like this. And if you know of anyone who's hiring a Pinterest board curator or couch tester, do me a solid and let me know, k? Thanks.

Friday, December 5, 2014

"this is a camel", AKA picking up the dropped balls.

I love how sometimes you get that feeling of, like, "I think I'm pretty on top of things right now!" And then you are forcefully reminded that, nope. No, you're not. You are on top of SOME things, but never ALL the things. Despite all the articles out there asserting that "alive and fed" is sufficient when it comes to raising children - and despite my own beliefs in "good-enough" parenting - it's hard to feel like you haven't dropped the ball in at least a few places. For me, it happened yesterday.

I think we've done a good job when it comes to Rowan having a well-rounded routine. We've done music and baby sign language classes. We go to play groups, cousin play dates, swimming, bounce houses, library story times, playgrounds, and the children's museum (...science museum. Not a museum OF children). We play outside every day, we dance every day, she has structured play time and free play time, and the only screen time she gets is watching videos of herself on our phones (oh, crap, I'm THAT anti-screen-time parent).


Steam tornado at the children's museum.
Or, totally creepy horror-movie opening shot.

BUT. Then I remember...other stuff. Stuff that got lost in a fog of the stuff I DID remember. Stuff like...sippy cups, which I introduced too late in the game, so she hates them now and will use bottles until she's twelve. Stuff like baby-sitters other than Gramma, which I avoid because Rowan has such hardcore stranger anxiety. Stuff like home-cooked meals that go beyond cheesy quinoa or veggie burgers. Stuff like camels. Today we we saw a picture of one, and I'm pretty sure she heard the word "camel" for the first time, and I thought, shit. I FORGOT TO TELL HER ABOUT CAMELS. What else am I forgetting?!

Maybe it's a perfectionist issue, but my guess is most parents feel like they've dropped the ball in at least a couple places. Facebook is a great showcase of what your friends remember to incorporate in their kids' lives, which is how I realized yesterday that one of the balls I dropped is art. I know that, hello, there are worse things that could happen, but - I mean, not only am I a former toddler teacher, but my major in undergrad was arts-focused (Arts & Ideas in the Humanities...we'll chat about what that means some other time) (hint: it means being thirty-four and not having a job or career to speak of) (side note: it also means taking too few math classes to calculate if you're actually thirty-four when you start typing that out and it seems too old to be true).

Ahem. Anyway. I think the reason I haven't done much art with Rowan is because it's so inconvenient. We don't have art materials, other than crayons (AKA "delicious, delicious wax for with to color on cupboards"). We also don't have a good spot to do art, since it's going to be messy. And - yeah, okay, the mess is a big deterrent. I have a new appreciation for the parents at my former work who were totally upfront about the fact that they loved having their children do the messy stuff - painting and play-dough and mud puddles - at our child care center, rather than at their houses. In my head, art should be like books - available everywhere, not just in a specific "book spot" or "art spot". But in reality? Screw that. Me and my white rug are not quite ready for a free-range painting toddler.

So I'm looking around now to find a good spot to set up an art center.* I need a space that's somewhere in between "we only paint in the high chair" and "SCISSORS FOR EVERYONE"...a designated place that's her size, already set up, and has materials stored nearby - within my reach, but not necessarily hers quite yet. 

Next to the pantry in the kitchen is my first choice, since there aren't any rugs nearby and it's centrally located (easy to keep an eye on her, even if I'm doing other things), but I'd need to find a place to store materials. 


Terrible picture - but where that blue bin of toys is = spot for a table?
Also, then I could hang her artwork on the wall there...


Second choice would be in the front room, which is now a play room anyway...but I don't want to be anal about the rug in there while Rowan is doing something messy. There's also nowhere to store materials in the play room that isn't out of her reach. Hmm...


We already have the little table & chairs in the corner under
the window...would just need to scoot it over. And, um, use it.


Going to do some more brainstorming before executing any plans. In the meantime, we headed over to a drop-in arts and crafts session at our local family center this morning, where Rowan painted a snowflake ornament. For two seconds. Before painting her tongue. And then abandoning the craft to hurl baby dolls down the slide. Still! ART!


Like her angsty look after completing her art project today?
(BECAUSE ART IS NEVER COMPLETE, MOM.)

*YES, I know I could just throw some markers and paper out occasionally and call it good. But (a) I always go overboard, (b) I love the idea of having a little "art center", (c) I get motivated by new spaces, and (d) that's probably what will happen on most days anyway. So hush.

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