Mothering

I think raising strong, happy children isn’t just about them. At first, I thought it was about providing love and discipline and security and all that, but the more I think about it, the more I think that in order to do this, I have to excercise my own strength and positivity.

I need to look for the good in the world and in myself. I need to see the world as positive. I need to be happy in what I have and who I am. I need to face my own fears and take action. I need to take chances on the things that usually have me cowering in “what ifs.”

Again, I am impressed by the truth that in order to be a good mother, you need to mother yourself. It’s not about giving yourself indulgences that give you pleasure for a minute. And it’s not about being selfish and thinking you are more important than anyone else, but it is about taking care of yourself and your needs and your soul and your body. It’s about showing your children how you take care of yourself. It’s about being strong so that you have more to give your children.

See more progress on: Raise strong, happy children

The Unstated Agenda

I am really good at planning to plan my day.

In my head, I am organizing and arranging—my day, my things, my plans, my writing, my activities, my discussions. But all that arranging stays in my head, abstract.

I have been staring at this table in my livingroom, that I have been planning to move to the kitchen for, oh, 9 months. Everyday I plan to plan to move it, and every day, I do nothing.

I know that in order to put the planning into action, you actually have to make time in your day to do it. It can’t just be a vague, “hey I could do this or that today.” It has to be an active plan. First this then that, then during the first nap I will move the table (or revise 20 pages or cook chili for dinner or whatever it is that is in your plan.)

I know that the vague intention is ineffective, and I know it from my own inaction. I’ve also seen it in the way that S always has these grand plans to get things done but never does any of them. He doesn’t make room in his unstated plans for his days off. The unstated plans are to relax. Watch some science shows or black and white movies, drink some coffee, smoke some cigarettes on the deck, play with the boy, go get the newspapers, take a shower, go have brunch, which leads directly into a some errands, more adventures with the boy, visiting people in the neighborhood and papa-son day with pizza for the boy and beer for the papa, and then to boy bedtime and more movies on tv—but nothing on the to do list. And that’s it. That’s the whole day. Taken over by unstated plans.

Now, this is an interesting thought. The unstated plans. There’s a technical term for it that I learned when I was in Grad School for teaching, but the damn mom-brain has lost the word. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to get things done, sometimes, because you’re pretending that those unstated goals aren’t there. But truly, they come first, particularly if they are your routine, right?

I wonder what my day would look like if I took my unstated plans—hidden agenda? Is that the term? Well, it fits. My agenda is my plan, right? And this agenda is hidden from my “planning,” hidden from myself, even. A lot of what’s on that hidden agenda is daily maintenance that I take for granted… email, shower, getting dressed, folding some clothes, finding my shoes that have been kicked under the sofa, putting toys in teh basket, grabbing something to eat, going to the bathroom, getting the kids dressed, changing diapers, playing with them, feedng them, cooking, picking up, and so on. And then there’s the other stuff, stuff that isn’t productive but is really what my lazy butt prefers to do… my message board addiction, my television addiction, my magazine addiction, my sudoku addiction—hmmmm. I’m sensing a pattern here.

I resist my addictions because of the way I feel about myself after giving in to them totally and ignoring my day and goals. I feel lousy. I feel like a failure- but there isn’t anything wrong with any of those addictions, really. It’s just the imbalance they create.

So what if, instead of defaulting to those addictions, I actually put them into my plans? What if I actually put them on my daily todo list, gave them a valid place in my life instead of turning them into a guilty secret of inaction?

Rest is important to being productive. Downtime is needed. Maybe I should respect my own relaxation methods and incorporate them into a productive day.

And not only that, but maybe I should recognize all the little daily things that I do that I don’t technically plan but need to be done anyway. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like my day was getting away from me and so were my plans. Maybe I would feel more productive, more accomplished if I took all this into account. Maybe that would make it easier to accomplish the other things on my list.

See more progress on: Plan my day

The Unstated Agenda

I am really good at planning to plan my day.

In my head, I am organizing and arranging—my day, my things, my plans, my writing, my activities, my discussions. But all that arranging stays in my head, abstract.

I have been staring at this table in my livingroom, that I have been planning to move to the kitchen for, oh, 9 months. Everyday I plan to plan to move it, and every day, I do nothing.

I know that in order to put the planning into action, you actually have to make time in your day to do it. It can’t just be a vague, “hey I could do this or that today.” It has to be an active plan. First this then that, then during the first nap I will move the table (or revise 20 pages or cook chili for dinner or whatever it is that is in your plan.)

I know that the vague intention is ineffective, and I know it from my own inaction. I’ve also seen it in the way that S always has these grand plans to get things done but never does any of them. He doesn’t make room in his unstated plans for his days off. The unstated plans are to relax. Watch some science shows or black and white movies, drink some coffee, smoke some cigarettes on the deck, play with the boy, go get the newspapers, take a shower, go have brunch, which leads directly into a some errands, more adventures with the boy, visiting people in the neighborhood and papa-son day with pizza for the boy and beer for the papa, and then to boy bedtime and more movies on tv—but nothing on the to do list. And that’s it. That’s the whole day. Taken over by unstated plans.

Now, this is an interesting thought. The unstated plans. There’s a technical term for it that I learned when I was in Grad School for teaching, but the damn mom-brain has lost the word. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to get things done, sometimes, because you’re pretending that those unstated goals aren’t there. But truly, they come first, particularly if they are your routine, right?

I wonder what my day would look like if I took my unstated plans—hidden agenda? Is that the term? Well, it fits. My agenda is my plan, right? And this agenda is hidden from my “planning,” hidden from myself, even. A lot of what’s on that hidden agenda is daily maintenance that I take for granted… email, shower, getting dressed, folding some clothes, finding my shoes that have been kicked under the sofa, putting toys in teh basket, grabbing something to eat, going to the bathroom, getting the kids dressed, changing diapers, playing with them, feedng them, cooking, picking up, and so on. And then there’s the other stuff, stuff that isn’t productive but is really what my lazy butt prefers to do… my message board addiction, my television addiction, my magazine addiction, my sudoku addiction—hmmmm. I’m sensing a pattern here.

I resist my addictions because of the way I feel about myself after giving in to them totally and ignoring my day and goals. I feel lousy. I feel like a failure- but there isn’t anything wrong with any of those addictions, really. It’s just the imbalance they create.

So what if, instead of defaulting to those addictions, I actually put them into my plans? What if I actually put them on my daily todo list, gave them a valid place in my life instead of turning them into a guilty secret of inaction?

Rest is important to being productive. Downtime is needed. Maybe I should respect my own relaxation methods and incorporate them into a productive day.

And not only that, but maybe I should recognize all the little daily things that I do that I don’t technically plan but need to be done anyway. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like my day was getting away from me and so were my plans. Maybe I would feel more productive, more accomplished if I took all this into account. Maybe that would make it easier to accomplish the other things on my list.

See more progress on: Plan my day

Boys and Wheels

The Monkey Man has found a new love.

Mama, Papa, Ivy and Gabriel were walking down the street this weekend, when we passed a tricycle that somebody had put out on the street with a sign saying "take me."

Let's just say that G was quite enthused. So we walked to brunch, Papa pushing the stroller and Mama carrying Ivy in her carrier and pushing the new trike (thank goodness it had a push bar for grownups-- an invention that is genius). G couldn't take his eyes off of it. And when we got to brunch, we sat in the empty back room of the restaurant where he could explore the thing before we got our food.

He rode the trike home, so proud and excited, yelling all the way at the top of his voice.

All was well and good until we got home and he had to get off the tricycle and go upstairs. Or no, that's not precisely right. He was fine going up the stairs and all, but when we go into the apartment and he could SEE the tricycle, he started having fits. Crying. Screaming. Pulling the thing this way and that, knocking it over. Not even trying to ride it, not wanting to push it anywhere. Over stimulated, we thought. Too excited. We clamed him down with a sippy cup of milk and reading a book and brushing his teeth and washing his hands, since he loves to play in the water. Bed time came and that was that.

But this morning, the fits started again. First when Papa took the trike downstairs so they could go on an adventure, and then again when they came back upstairs. G kept yelling "mine! mine! mine!" even when we assured him he could keep it and no one would take it away from him. He grabbed it and pulled it to him and bonked himself on the head-- or so I assume, because he has the impression of a nut on his forehead.

He wouldn't stop crying. He didn't want to do anything with it. I asked him if he was scared, and he didn't deny it. I told him that he just needed to practice and mommy would help him whenever her needed it. Still tears though. Then I started identifying the parts of the tricycle and the tears went away. He kept pointing at the different parts and I would tell him what they were. Then he could get up and move on to something else.

It's so strange how little guys process life. He obviously loved it, but it scared him.... or maybe he just needed to know more about it. Is this the beginning of a boy obsession? Boys and things with wheels. My brother is going to love it, his only nephew following in his footsteps.

Mess Making and Unmaking

Who ever would have guessed that I would be a housewife? Meet Rowena, the homemaker.

I suck at it. I'm the creative type, the girl who reads a lot of books, who writes poetry and stories. The one who encourages others to be creative and go for their dreams. I'm the teacher, the bartender, the free spirit who likes outdoor music festivals and walking around Manhattan just trying to discover whatever there is to see. I'm the one who shops in thrift stores and has a garden on her fire escape and cooks last minute meals for one and watches lots of tv while painting pictures in her journal, and lives in a constant mess of creative clutter.

But now I have to plan and organize and get a hold of the mess. Now that I stay at home all the time, and cook meals 3 times a day and run around after a toddler who thinks throwing toys, food, books, papers on the floor is the height of entertainment, it is really not okay to live in the mess of the benign clutter that I am used to. I don't even know how to really clean, I realize. I have to research how to do it. Isn't that wacky? Researching housekeeping.

Flylady and Martha Stewart help. Except I am not as dedicated as either of them would have me be. I get the point of shining your sink and washing your dishes right after you're done, but I just don't seem to be able to keep up. The dishes are my nemesis. They never stop, and they just pile up and get worse and worse and then the whole cleaning thing gets overwhelming.

Those of you who have dishwashers don't know how lucky you are. I've been sick and let the dishes go for two days, and it's terrible again. I guess I can't take a day off of housecleaning, even if I'm sick. One of the good things about having a day job is that you can get away from it sometimes.

Ugh. Instead of letting the stupid dishes take over my life and defeat my cleaning aims, I am going to focus on purging. Flylady has an idea where you toss 27 things a day. I like that idea and have been trying to, but don't think I've managed that many things in a day.... unless I count the bag of old tights and socks with holes that I threw out yesterday. I guess I could.

It might be easier to keep things in order if I had less stuff. I really dream of the day when I have a place for everything and everything in its place. I do actually like organizing, but the cleaning always seems to get in the way. At least Spring is a good time to take this on as a project.

Day

I needed to stop a moment and reflect.

I glanced back over my posts and realized how often they were about being blocked or not being able to write or not being... something.

So I wanted to take it from a different direction. I wanted to look at my life the way it is, right now-- not for what it's missing, but for what it is.

So today, I stepped outside onto the deck, wreck that it is from a difficult winter and my lack of attention, and talked to my neighbor over the fence. We talked about babies and the difficulties of living where we live and of how fast time goes and it seems that the last decade has just disappeared while we were living it. Maybe two decades.

And it was warm for the first time in I don't know how long. I didn't even wear a jacket. The leaves on the trees out there were just starting to unfurl, just enough to give the branches a haze of green. I brought Ivy out in her little pink jacket with the embroidered flowers and she looked up into the sky and blinked and then fell asleep in my arms while my neighbor and I talked. Gabriel was inside sleeping, after refusing his nap and being a crazy man all afternoon, then passing out after watching The Backyardigans on Noggin.

Spring is happening.

I have started taking pictures to document this coming year. At least one a day is the plan. And today, I took some pictures of Ivy smiling and of Gabriel holding Ivy and laughing-- before he got too crazy and made her cry.

So that was my day.

Not Working

Don't feel like fighting. Don't feel like being a warrior. I'm tired and sick and so is G. I'm letting the dishes pile up because isn't it enough that I am feeding and tending and entertaining and disciplining a couple of little kids? And I'm sick. Boo hoo hoo. I feel sorry for myself. There's no day off for mommy. I'm used to it, but that doesn't mean I can't have a moment of whining.

Besides not doing the dishes, I haven't even looked at my novel. I could have a million excuses for why I'm not. And they're good excuses, babies, sickness, blah blah... but what it comes down to is I am not doing what I say I am set on doing. Truth is, I'm just not all that set on it.

Commitment! (sung to the tune of Tradition! from Fiddler on the Roof)

When am I going to take that step and truly commit to getting this work done? Right now, I'm wrapped up in feeling sorry for my tired self and my aching back and pounding head and sink full of dishes. I'm commited to feeling miserable.

Well, if I were a good creative person and spiritual warrior, by the end of this post I would be wonderfully recommitted to revising my novel.... but you wanna know the truth? I aint gonna do no revising tonight. I'm going to stop pretending that I'm going to work and choose not to. A positive choice.

And I'm not going to feel guilty.

Wrestling with Mom Brain

So I'm taking the time that G is watching the Backyardigans to post in my blog. I am having trouble being productive, now, what with the toddler and the newborn. I haven't figured out how to get things done. I feel like there should be a trick to it, somehow.

Somehow, I have the feeling that it's about organizing my time and about building up a routine.

I made a promise to myself that I would revise my novel by the 15th of May. It was supposed to take me one month. I think I'm a week into my challenge and I haven't done squat except for printing it out.

You know, before I was a mom, I could take a whole week to focus on myself and go deep and explore my creativity and work my way up to the writing--- I no longer have that luxury. Not with diapers and making lunch and washing dishes and going to playdates and breastfeeding. And not with the way I collapse in exhaustion at the end of the day when they are finally both asleep at the same time.

So how to focus on the project?

I guess I'll take my tiny opportunities to do my thinking about my project... like during Backyardigans. Work up my writing practice in small steps. I really have to learn to take advantage of those free minutes I do have, instead of turning to some mindless time waster, like surfing the web or watching tv that I'm not even all that interested in.

One thing about having kids is that it can be really motivating. When I was in my twenties, there seemed to be so much time to get my career started I could play around and explore and practice. Now, I know I have limited time. I really do. Both during the day and in the future, because the kids needs are always going to be there, and they are going to be demanding.

I need to learn to use what time I do have and use it wisely. I have no time for the insecurites that plagued me when I was younger. I need to take my creativity as a business, instead of as the romantic life style it was when I didn't have kids.

What steps do I have to take?

1. I need a calendar with a schedule-- both for daily todo items and for whatever is scheduled for that day. Also for deadlines. I also want to be able to keep up with my household duties there, so they don't interfere with my writing time or my brain space. Menu planning, bills, appointments, even cleaning schedules. And I would also like to use it to keep track of my personal goals.

2. To focus in on those personal goals... I need to clarify my ultimate goal and set a deadline for it. Then I need to break down the steps I need to take to get there. Put each of those steps on their own deadline, write them down in my schedule, and take them as seriously as I would take the deadline for paying bills.

3. I need to set aside a regular time for my project. And I need to work on it during that time, no matter how tired I am or how many dishes are in the sink. However, if the kids mess up that time, don't go to sleep or whatever, that does have to come first. And then I have to be flexible and make up for that missed work time later-- no matter how tired I am.

4. I need to take my needs seriously. I need to not blow myself off for a moment of laziness. My REAL needs need to be prioritized over the momentary sense of ease, which is often about fear-- non confrontation.

5. Speaking of non confrontation, I need to ask for help. Firstly, I should request solo time from S. Mom needs time off. I shouldn't be the one who is always sacrificing for the family. Perhaps I should also be asking for my family to babysit sometimes, and not just when I have a doctor's appointment, but on a regular basis. If it were a regular schedule that my sister or father watches the kids, then maybe I wouldn't feel so awkward about asking them to sit. I do have to get over my discomfort with asking for help from others.

6. I think I also have to be forgiving of myself. Because, frankly, I am not at my creative best. I suffer from baby brain and can barely speak a coherent sentence, let alone write one. So I need to allow my work to be less than perfect, or I will never begin, let alone finish. Even if you don't have baby brain, you should release perfectionism-- it's stifling neurosis. I know, I've been fighting my perfectionism for years. I can use this rambling blog as an exercise in letting go of perfectionism. So expect babbling.

7. I need to make being creative a habit. Writing in my blog and/or journal. Maybe painting or doing collages might help. Listening to good music, reading good books, looking at art. You'd think this might be difficult with kids, but this can actually be such a great thing to do WITH kids, even little ones. Taking them to the museum or in and out of galleries. There are so many of them in my neighborhood, why don't I take advantage of that? Playing music, even non kid-music, while playing and dancing with G or putting the baby to sleep. Maybe I should also try reading more than just picture books to the kids. Fairy tales, chapter books. Or maybe I should remember that I love reading and make that my downtime, just before bed activity instead of the more mindless activities. I could make collages with G-- even though he is slightly young for it. Why be afraid of him making a mess? That's more of the perfectionism stuff. I could also do that project I recently heard of... Project 365, I think it's called, where you take a picture everyday to document your year. That's something that can be creative and incorporate the kids.

I tell you, even now I am confused... mom brain, or maybe even this cold I have. I have no idea where I have gone with this entry. Don't know where I started or what I have said along the way. And I'm going to leave it that way. I'm not going back to fix it. I'm allowing it to ramble imperfectly. Maybe later I'll discover I hit on something important.

6 Weeks

Is it a coincidence that yesterday was my 6 week post partum mark? I'm thinking, not really. Recovery from having a baby and being pregnant has been achieved. Maybe it's not just an empty date.

I have been slowly getting back to myself. I was pretty productive yesterday after MONTHS of inaction. Gosh, I hate being pregnant. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids, I like children and babies, but the whole weirdo process of pregnancy and childbirth sucks. Some women love it. Some women are bathed in a soup of happy-hormones. I am not one of them. My hormones are the mean and unhappy ones, the lay on the couch all day ones, the anti-social hermit ones. I wish I had the happy hormones. As I don't, unless S can figure out a way to carry a baby, we're done having kids. (Yippee!)

Now I can stop being an incubator and start being me again.

Of course, after all that time, I have to start slow. I need to build up my routines again and get used to writing and painting and organizing and being out in the world again.

My primary plan is to revise my novel by May 15th. Okay, I actually said something like the 12th, but the 15th sounds better. It's easier to remember, anyway. So yesterday, I printed out my novel, or most of it. I forgot a chapter, but I feel like I achieved something by simply printing it out. I'd better be sure I don't rest on my laurels on this one, because just printing it out isn't really revising, although it is a step towards it. Even writing about it is making me confused. I may have reached 6 weeks, but I am still suffering from baby brain.... that's supposed to continue until 6 months! I can't wait 6 months to be productive, though. I must power through and revise and write and create in any way I can.

Remember, it's the fine art of applying butt to chair.

But right now, I hear the monkey boy calling from the crib, and I must, once again, postpone my artistic ambitions and take care of my day (24hour day) job.

Hibernation Over (hopefully)

I can't believe how long it's been since I've posted.

I guess I've been hibernating for the winter. Well, that and having a baby.

Ivy was born on March 2, and she was in such a rush she was born at home! Not intentionally. I actually was getting dressed to go to the hospital and had one sock on when she came. I was only in labor for about 2 and a half hours from the first twinge until she was born. Maybe if I hadn't been in false labor for a month, I would have left the house earlier, but my contractions had, until this point, all disappeared after an hour.

Everything ended up just fine, though, and if I had left for the hospital, that baby might just have come along in a taxi on the Williamsburg Bridge.

Since March 2, I've been recovering-- which has gone pretty easily, and getting accustomed to being the mother of two children under two years of age. I haven't quite figured out how to do it well, but it's not as bad as I was fearing.

I've also been suffering from terrible baby-brain. I can't recall common words, I can't speak in whole sentences, I can't read a book at all. Hmm, most of my difficulties have to do with speech and words. Interesting. Maybe that's the part of my brain that has shrunk. Or maybe that's what distresses me, since my life is all about words-- or it used to be. Now it's all about babies.

I'm hoping that now I've reached that six week post partum mark things will start getting better/easier. It doesn't hurt that Spring is here, even if it is cold and wet, it's Spring. Life wakes back up in Spring, and I'm aiming for the same thing to happen to me.

Viva la Springtime!!!