I am in the thick of it. I am trying to remember that. When I don’t remember that, I start to panic.
Here’s what a casual observer would note about my life: I have a six-year old boy who just started a new school across town. I have a 20-month old boy. I have a part-time job. I have a husband with a full-time business of his own.
Here’s what someone overly interested in my life might also note: the new school expects a lot of involvement from parents and is currently successfully stimulating my overachiever gene; the toddler is extremely active, seems to be sick or teething almost all of the time, and only sleeps for an hour and half a day (and yes, I do know that makes me lucky compared to some). The part-time job is as a lawyer and often feels full-time in its intensity and need to be on call. The home business is half the time run from outside the home, leaving me on my own with the boys every Saturday and frequent afternoons and week nights. Oh, and then there’s soccer on Mondays, art on Tuesdays, swimming on Wednesdays, plus PTO meetings and neighborhood board meetings.
I am not complaining about any of this. I just need to force myself to see it, because sometimes I don’t see it and I entertain completely unrealistic expectations of myself. Like, why don’t I start writing a novel right now? Maybe a children’s book collaboration? Maybe I should be the room mother for Henry’s class. Maybe Matthew and I should start writing music together. How about a weekly massage night? Henry and I should collect leaves and make a book of pressed flora. I can probably draft letters for my family members who need legal help. Maybe I should bake Finnish bread from scratch for my grandfather. Matthew and I should make our own Halloween costumes.
Have I mentioned that I am an overachiever?
The fact is that my children will probably never be quite so demanding of me as they are right now. Henry is having to adjust to his new school and needs help getting back into the groove. Dean is not potty trained, thinks he can do everything Henry can do, and, despite being able to express himself eloquently when he desires (“I don’t like that, take it away” he says about his peas), still prefers to communicate his frustrations with ear piercing screams. He requires constant supervision.
But this will change as he gets older. A year from now, he’ll probably be potty trained. He’ll have learned a modicum of control over his temper. He’ll hopefully be more content to sit in one place for more than twenty-five seconds. And I dream of this time. But I also don’t want to overlook what is special and wonderful about where he is right now. His talking is so entertaining. The smile he gives me when I come home from work each day is heart-melting. The boys’ relationship with each other brings so much laughter into our house that I sometimes think the walls will burst. These times will pass so quickly. Someday soon they will both be doing their own things, barely mustering interest in my affections, and I will be free to (attempt to) write books, indulge in music, enjoy a weekly massage, bake ethnic specialties. But right now I am in the thick of it and I need to remember what I am doing well. I love soccer night, right down the street from our house. It’s more like a neighborhood party some nights than an athletic event. Especially now that the weather is nice, it’s wonderful to sit in the grass with the other parents, chase Dean on the playground, and cheer for Henry. I am glad I resisted the urge to sign him up for a competitive sport; this one is purely about camaraderie and burning off energy.
Henry is loving art after school and except for us getting home a little later on Tuesdays, it really doesn’t involve a lot of sacrifice on my part. I’m glad we signed him up.
Dean and I are really enjoying swim lessons. He’s really learning a lot, loves the songs and swimming and jumping and it is so nice for us to have a special time just for ourselves, no errands to run, just time together in the water.
I am still glad I take Fridays off from work. It makes my professional life harder in so many ways, but I still think it’s the best thing for Dean. He gets me to himself until it’s time to pick up Henry. After dropping Henry off at school in the a.m., Dean and I frequently go to Audubon Park for a long walk and stop at the playground.
I am so glad Matthew’s job is still going well, and except for days like today when I wake with a migraine, I usually relish the time to be on my own with the kids. It’s harder in many ways, but we’ve gotten better at building in down-time together - fort building, reading, walks to the library, and, today, decorating the front porch with Halloween stuff and finger painting on the back porch.
It’s hard right now, there’s no question. But I am trying to see it as a privilege to have it this hard.
Here’s what a casual observer would note about my life: I have a six-year old boy who just started a new school across town. I have a 20-month old boy. I have a part-time job. I have a husband with a full-time business of his own.
Here’s what someone overly interested in my life might also note: the new school expects a lot of involvement from parents and is currently successfully stimulating my overachiever gene; the toddler is extremely active, seems to be sick or teething almost all of the time, and only sleeps for an hour and half a day (and yes, I do know that makes me lucky compared to some). The part-time job is as a lawyer and often feels full-time in its intensity and need to be on call. The home business is half the time run from outside the home, leaving me on my own with the boys every Saturday and frequent afternoons and week nights. Oh, and then there’s soccer on Mondays, art on Tuesdays, swimming on Wednesdays, plus PTO meetings and neighborhood board meetings.
I am not complaining about any of this. I just need to force myself to see it, because sometimes I don’t see it and I entertain completely unrealistic expectations of myself. Like, why don’t I start writing a novel right now? Maybe a children’s book collaboration? Maybe I should be the room mother for Henry’s class. Maybe Matthew and I should start writing music together. How about a weekly massage night? Henry and I should collect leaves and make a book of pressed flora. I can probably draft letters for my family members who need legal help. Maybe I should bake Finnish bread from scratch for my grandfather. Matthew and I should make our own Halloween costumes.
Have I mentioned that I am an overachiever?
The fact is that my children will probably never be quite so demanding of me as they are right now. Henry is having to adjust to his new school and needs help getting back into the groove. Dean is not potty trained, thinks he can do everything Henry can do, and, despite being able to express himself eloquently when he desires (“I don’t like that, take it away” he says about his peas), still prefers to communicate his frustrations with ear piercing screams. He requires constant supervision.
But this will change as he gets older. A year from now, he’ll probably be potty trained. He’ll have learned a modicum of control over his temper. He’ll hopefully be more content to sit in one place for more than twenty-five seconds. And I dream of this time. But I also don’t want to overlook what is special and wonderful about where he is right now. His talking is so entertaining. The smile he gives me when I come home from work each day is heart-melting. The boys’ relationship with each other brings so much laughter into our house that I sometimes think the walls will burst. These times will pass so quickly. Someday soon they will both be doing their own things, barely mustering interest in my affections, and I will be free to (attempt to) write books, indulge in music, enjoy a weekly massage, bake ethnic specialties. But right now I am in the thick of it and I need to remember what I am doing well. I love soccer night, right down the street from our house. It’s more like a neighborhood party some nights than an athletic event. Especially now that the weather is nice, it’s wonderful to sit in the grass with the other parents, chase Dean on the playground, and cheer for Henry. I am glad I resisted the urge to sign him up for a competitive sport; this one is purely about camaraderie and burning off energy.
Henry is loving art after school and except for us getting home a little later on Tuesdays, it really doesn’t involve a lot of sacrifice on my part. I’m glad we signed him up.
Dean and I are really enjoying swim lessons. He’s really learning a lot, loves the songs and swimming and jumping and it is so nice for us to have a special time just for ourselves, no errands to run, just time together in the water.
I am still glad I take Fridays off from work. It makes my professional life harder in so many ways, but I still think it’s the best thing for Dean. He gets me to himself until it’s time to pick up Henry. After dropping Henry off at school in the a.m., Dean and I frequently go to Audubon Park for a long walk and stop at the playground.
I am so glad Matthew’s job is still going well, and except for days like today when I wake with a migraine, I usually relish the time to be on my own with the kids. It’s harder in many ways, but we’ve gotten better at building in down-time together - fort building, reading, walks to the library, and, today, decorating the front porch with Halloween stuff and finger painting on the back porch.
It’s hard right now, there’s no question. But I am trying to see it as a privilege to have it this hard.
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