Wonderland

I need to find the joy in everyday. Need to experience my life, and value it, not let it pass by in a haze of unmet expectations and negative feelings about what I HAVEN’T done.

This is my life. I do not want to want it to be something different. It’s too easy to get caught up in what I do not have. It’s too easy to get caught up in what I am not.

I don’t want to say “Yes, but…” to life, either. I want to learn to accept it. Learn to accept that we are broke right now. Learn to accept that I can’t buy all the things that would be cool to have. Learn to accept that I am not a great housekeeper. Learn to accept S’s negative traits. Learn to accept my own negative traits.

None of that is to say that I can’t work to change certain things about my life, but I need to accept the way they are right now so that I don’t feel DEFECTIVE, which is what actually happens. And then my self esteem goes down the toilet and everything just seems harder, and I am not happy, and I can only see that the bathroom needs to be cleaned, and not the unbridled laughter of my son, or the soft yet firm grip of my baby daughter’s hand on my thumb.

Remember. Stop in the maddening hamster wheel of “the grind” and remember to pay attention to what is now. Right NOW.

I wonder if I did this, would it help me actually achieve all those things I want? If I just accepted life, said yes to it, would I be a more responsible adult? Would I be more productive? Would I ease into the revision of my novel—which I really like, by the way, although I have been making excuses not to work on it. Would I be able to keep my kitchen clean or get rid of the clutter? If I get rid of my head-clutter, will my life-clutter go, too?

See more progress on: say yes to life

Adultifying

I am an adult; 36 years old, mother of 2, a High School teacher, although not one now, and yet, there are certain areas of life where I just curl up in a fetal position, with the blankie over my head going “no, no, no, no, no…”

It mostly has to do with money, with forms, with official grown up things like health insurance or the government. Of course I also go into hiding when I think of getting my writing published.

But I don’t really have the luxury of being a flake or a child about these things. I am an adult with the responsibilities of an adult. What I do does not affect just me any more, it affects my children.

I may have a hard time believing that I am the mother of two kids sometimes, but I am. And I have to take care of them. And I have to take care of me, too, if not for my own sake, simply because I’m worth it, then for my kids’ sake, because they need to have a healthy, strong, successful mom who is there for them.

Sometimes, when I get small and scared, I remind myself to be an adult. I don’t always want to step up to the plate, so sometimes I have to goad myself, like a bully. “Do it, you wuss, be an adult.”

It’s worked a couple of times, maybe I can keep doing it and I’ll get in the habit of acting like an adult when I need to.

Just to be clear, being an adult does not mean being boring or narrow minded or unadventurous or unhappy or any of that. I truly believe that grown ups can be just as full of wonder as children, just as spontaneous, they just also take care of what needs to be done.

Maybe I should also give myself a goal about childlike wonder to balance out the adultifying.

See more progress on: be an adult

When?

When am I going to get my energy back? When will I get out from under the tidal wave of baby care? I need to get a handle on all of this and not be so exhausted by it so that I can continue with the other parts of my life. I cannot drop them, writing, teaching, art. I must do them for my own happiness, but also to make money for my kids. This isn’t just my career we’re talking about, this is our livelihood.

Has this raised the stakes sufficiently to get over all my insecurities and self sabotage? Maybe, but it hasn’t helped with the sleepy/achey/braindead/exhaustion. Please say it’s just the post partum junk and the hormones from nursing. It’s the having two under two thing, and in one month when G turns 2 years old, all angst and exhaustion and struggle will magically lighten.

Poof! Baby overwhelm gone! Continue on boldly in your life, Ro. Nothing holding you back!

Sigh.

See more progress on: start a writing group

I'm tired, SOOO tired. (who sang that song?)

I try to revise my novel when I have time, I’ve done maybe a hundred pages, but I am the mother of two children under two years old, and I almost never “have” time.

That time is almost always taken away from something else.

Of course, I do have unproductive habits that I could give up. Hello, television? Or maybe I should say “goodbye, television.” I mean, it’s summer, there’s hardly anything new on tv. Surfing on line could also go. I could at least cut back on it.

I watch tv and web surf when I am exhausted, as I always am. It’s a real problem to productivity, but it’s also an excuse. Yes I’m tired, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t or can’t do things.

In order to revise my novel, in order to even read it (seriously, I can’t even reread Harry Potter right now) I have to buck up and stop… well… feeling sorry for myself.

Oh, I’m so tired.

I mean, I really am, but I feel so sorry for myself because I am so tired.

I think if I just accept my life as this right now, and not fight that I am tired, but flow with it, then I might get better at editing my novel.

And the truth is, working on my book will make me feel better. It will excercise my brain and get me used to working again on something other than babies.

I don’t have to revise the whole thing this week, but if I just commit to working on it, whatever I can, I can get it done.

Easy would be to commit to just 15 minutes a day of revising. I can set my timer. Easy, right? Easy.

Hey, does this make any sense? I don’t know what I’ve just written.

Did I mention that I’m tired?

See more progress on: edit my novel

Monster Man

People Building

I look at the baby sometimes and wonder who she will become. They’re so unformed at this point. A blank slate, it seems—but even in those chubby baby cheeks and gummy smile and innocent eyes, there is a seed of who they are.

I can see it more in G. His personality is starting to come out more and more with his individuality. He is a handful, always going off on adventures, with or without my approval. He’s big into playing—things like chase and wrestling, which the other kids his age are not quite ready for. And he’s such a BOY already! Cars and trucks and tricycles, dinosaurs, monsters, animals. Football, baseball, pretty much any ball. And he loves water with a passion—getting soaked on his first time in the playground sprinklers, while the other kids in his playgroup hung back with their mommies, shy or afraid. They all stay by their mothers. Gabriel though is always off. Last playgroup, he actually began a little revolt in the good-baby group, and they all took off after him on his adventures. He was like some sort of toddler Pied Piper of Hamlin… which is funny, because his grandma’s last name comes from the town of Hamlin.

But with the Beanie baby, none of that is clear at all. Who is she? Is she going to be as serious as she seems now, or is it just gas that makes her frown like that? She’s already holding her head up very strongly, and standing on those bowed baby legs… does that mean she will be stubborn? Strong? Independent? Is raising a girl going to be THAT different from raising a boy? I mean, G turned into a boy-boy with no help from me. Is the Bean going to be a girlie girl? Or a tomboy? Or maybe she won’t be that easily defined. I do know that she already shows a preference for baseball on tv… something her Papa is very happy about.

Whoever she is, whoever G is, I want to help them become the best version of themselves. I don’t want to squash their independent spirits. I want them to be able to explore their world and experiment.

And yet… I want to help them understand the world and its boundaries. I don’t want them to get hurt, or to hurt anyone else. I want them to understand the value in other people, as well as the value in themselves. I don’t want them to be spoiled, or bullies. I want to help them be kind and helpful and loving and confident and creative. Strong and Happy. Strong and happy.

How much power do I have over who they will ultimately become? How much of that is really out of my control, and all up to them?

I don’t know. Parenting nowadays feels like a crap shoot. A lot of the old ways of doing things are not really acceptable now. A whuppin’ was common back then, now I would never do that. But I have to say, I don’t agree with the extreme permissiveness and coddling that I see sometimes today.

My philosophy, I suppose, developed when I was teaching High School, is that you give kids boundaries, and then within those boundaries, you let them have free will. I don’t want to strangle them with rules, but they need to know where the boundaries are… that’s what makes kids feel safe, those boundaries.

The question is where I set the boundaries and how I enforce them. There is no question about how consistent I have to be once I set those boundaries. Like for hitting—NO HITTING!

That’s the only one I’m 100% on right now. I guess I will figure out the other boundaries as I go along. I’m starting to work on one—something like, “no playing with water/other liquids inside the house unless it is in the bathtub, ie: no dumping mama’s coffee cup on the floor.”

But on the other hand… I also don’t want the world to be about “NO.” I don’t want to run around all day telling my kids what they can’t do. So I’ll have to pick which things to let go, which battles to fight.

Now that I think about it, it’s not only who the kids are that is unformed…it’s also who I am as a mother.

See more progress on: Raise strong, happy children

9:30 PM

And I should turn off the tv, transfer the baby to her cosleeper, bring my beer and head to bed with the next few chapters of my novel.

I’m tired. Bone tired… in fact, my hip is aching inexplicably when I sit, and the center of my back twinges when I stand. My brain doesn’t focus very well, and pretty soon, my eyes will start closing of their own accord.

But not yet.

My normal bedtime is 11pm. I have an hour and a half until then, so why not take that time to revise—

Dear God!!!

Baby girl, go back to sleep!

Sigh. I guess there is no chance for mommy to be not mommy.

See more progress on: edit my novel

Spinning

My head is in such a disorganized mess. I really should focus on planning my day, but.. well… I’m such a mess. Time slips away. Focus flutters around. Babies cry all day. And I still have to clean the sink.

I wish I could get an impartial view on my life, to see if my stage in life is warranting my inaction and confusion. I feel like I should be doing better at organizing, but I also have a 9 week old baby and a not yet 2 year old toddler. Does that buy me a bit of a break?

See more progress on: Plan my day

It Takes a Village

I had a few hours off of the motherhood thing, yesterday. Not even a whole afternoon, just a few hours, sitting outside a cafe and revising my first draft. It was so nice to be sitting there, not in the mom capacity, not being a mom at all, just being myself… just being an artist and writer. It was like letting the air in.

I revised 20 pages without worrying about nap time or someone waking up, or needing to make lunch or clean up the toys strewn around the living room, or what my toddler is doing in the other room while I’m sitting with a pen and my book… I can’t hear him, so he must be sticking his fingers into a socket.

It makes me realize how important time off is. And how important asking for help is.

I’m not the kind of person who likes to ask for help. I like to do things myself. I like to be tough and independent. I don’t like to admit that I need other people. Okay, that’s my neurosis, but kids aren’t raised just by one person alone. Even for a single mom, it’s not just one person. It takes a village, they say. And when you are a creative mom, you really need to call on that village.

S. took the day off of work and stayed home with the kids. And it was great. I need to ask for that more often. Maybe it takes a village for a mom to raise a novel, too. I need to make my work important, make myself important. I need to make my writing practice explicit. I need to commit to the writing and the revising and the working for myself, and for my family.

Part of that commitment is asking for help to get the work done. It is stating, “I am a writer and I need this time to work.”

Ironically, I am trying to write this entry with a “sleeping” infant and a toddler “watching” a deep sea dvd. And it’s so hard to keep my concentration and train of thought. I know I had important ideas to write down, but the toddler pulled on my hair and the thoughts must have escaped my head through my ear.

Yes. Time off is important. I wonder how much time off? Would an afternoon a week be enough? I was thinking it would be nice if I could get my sister to come and watch the kids once a week on a regular basis… not just when I had a doctor appointment. She could get a chance to know her nephew, he could get a chance to know his aunt, and I would get a chance to write my book.

I could also ask my dad to do the same. A regular afternoon gig. Sigh. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? I wouldn’t even have to go far, just to the coffee shop down the street. That’s why I have a laptop, isn’t it?

I get uncomfortable asking people to do that, though. I feel like I am taking advantage of them. And if we had more money, I could pay for a babysitter, but as someone who is struggling because I am NOT working, I feel like it is unfair to take family money and spend it on something that will not bring in more money. See that’s me not taking my work seriously again.

I do believe that eventually I can make money from this, but not if I don’t commit to it, and not if I can’t take the time to put it into writing, revising, getting it published.

Take myself seriously. Declare to the world, to my family, to my community, that I am a writer. Pull on their support to be that writer. And not incidentally, if I declare myself a “real” writer to my community, I need to take myself more seriously, because they are watching, expecting. And then, I must live up to their expectations.

See more progress on: write my book on creativity and motherhood

The Ivy Bean

Here's the Bean in her debut appearance.

I will be very excited if the posting actually works, although there's no reason why it shouldn't. Lots of people post pictures to their blogs. Despite my tech idiocy I should be able to get this in there.

If it works out, maybe I'll start a new blog with the photo a day project I'm trying to do.

All right, I'm just going to post it and pray.