"My Monastery is a Minivan"

Okay this is going to sound very weird...BUT I LOVE my car! Well maybe not the car itself, but the idea of it. My car at first glance is absolutely disgusting. I don't park it in a garage, so it constantly has that layer of grime and tree sap, sometime kitty paw prints adorn the hood. The inside is constantly strewn with sippy cups, crushed gold fish crackers, soccer cleats, pre-school books, old coffee cups and something that fell from my make up bag. My husband, John, is always amazed by the "treasures" he finds in my RX300.

I admit its a bit embarrasing at times, expecially when co-workers, non mothers or just anyone any penchant for cleanliness gets in my car - but to me it just sings motherhood! I picked up My monastery is a Minivan, by Denise Roy. It has saved my life a few times. When things get tough or just crazier than usual, I think of her short stories about her life with her minivan and her 4 children - that just seem to put things in perspective for me, since I struggle everyday with only 2!

My SUV has become one of the best places I connect with my children and husband. In the confines of my little car, we talk about what they did that day. I find out who they played with on the playground and find out about what they are looking forward to about the next day -- all the things that matter to them in their world at that moment. When we take long road trips, my husband and I always spend time talking about the future and reflecting on what crises we've mastered in the last few months - like potty training! yee haw! Who has time for that kind of conversation on a daily basis - before or after the kids take a bath?

I've come to terms with the fact that my car is the place where I can count on getting at least 15 minutes of peace between the time I drop off the kids and head into work. My car gives me the luxury of a little time to get myself together and think about things that matter- like making sure I don't have breakfast stuck between my teeth. Maybe even put on lipstick! Ah! ain't life grand!

BTW - I am wishing for a new car. I'm looking at a 2003 Eurovan. Anyone have one???

Wrestle Mania

I grew up with two brothers and I recall a good amount of wrestling at our house. While my older brother was on the actual wrestling team in junior high, what I remember most is the three of us rolling around on the floor trying to "pin" each other. Knowing my past, I'm not surprised that Jeeper likes to wrestle. But I am surprised that he is such a tough wrestler at 13 months old! I would have never guessed that I would be pinned daily by a 23 pound nursling. Granted, he uses a unique technique where he presses his open mouth on my face (usually right over my nose) and then drools, causing me to be overcome with the heebie-jeebies and the giggles and the combo effectively renders me helpless. Sometimes he wrestles his daddy and occasionally he plays a little rough with his best friend at his daycare, but so far I am his favorite opponent. And as long as he stays away from moves like the "jawbreaker" and the "hammerlock" and he lets me sneak a few snuggles, neck nuzzles and a smooch or two, then I say, "Bring it on little man!"

Lock up your Apples

Two weeks ago I ran over D's Powerbook. Yes, DROVE OVER IT. His Nano was in the same bag, but somehow went unscathed, so a few days later, I “watered” it with Miracle Gro. Although I’d really like to claim these as intentional acts (and live to write about it), they were freak accidents. But I’m wondering if just maybe something was operating on a subconscious level here.

You see D works at Apple. And lately he’s been working longer hours and traveling more, right as we’re in the middle of this house buying/selling frenzy. In fact, the week we put our place on the market, he was in New York and I had to DO EVERYTHING MYSELF (read my Single Supermom rant).

Sunday he leaves for Tokyo for a week and I’m starting to hyperventilate just thinking about it. I know his job is important and I really need him to bring home the bacon (since we all know I can’t possibly be making enough as a mom and freelance writer to pay a Silicon Valley mortgage, which is now TWO MORTGAGES). But I can’t help but feel abandoned, resentful, overworked, and lonely.

He’s constantly reminding me that his work isn’t a “cake walk,” but the problem is, my working-in-an-office memories are rose colored. I reminisce about lunching with co-workers (and finishing not just my meal, but also a conversation), dressing up, and going to the bathroom by myself, not to mention being appreciated--and rewarded--for my good ideas and hard work.

So, as he asks for my wish list from Japan (yeah THAT MAKES IT ALL BETTER), I’m more grumpy than gleeful. I suggest locking up your Apples everyone, I’m on the loose.

Roots

My mom and dad have a big garden and recently my mom emailed me this photo of some radishes they grew. Wow, look at those roots! I can't get them out of my mind. Even worse, I've gotten too philosophical about vegetables since seeing this picture.
To explain, you need to know that my parents don't live in the Seattle area. Actually, my husband and I don't have any relatives in Washington state (well, maybe we have a 3rd-cousin-twice-removed somewhere around) or even in any bordering state. Our immediate families live in Montana, California and Texas and we have extended family primarily in New Mexico and Oklahoma.

I love many aspects of our life here in the Pacific Northwest, but I also have a deep urge to grow roots in one place. That feeling grew stronger after Jeep was born. I've been thinking a lot about what it means to have roots and if that experience is even possible. I've lived in three different parts of the US for 6 years or more and I feel connected to each of those places. I miss unique aspects of each of those locations even while I enjoy living here. Did I grow roots in the past and pull them up when I moved? I'm not sure.

Do I need relatives around to have roots? I know the answer is "not necessarily" because I was very connected to my home town and the people there even though I grew up with no extended family around. I have dear friends, good neighbors, supportive colleagues and a network that deepens daily here in Western Washington. I think I should feel rooted here and often I do. But then I see Jeeper with his grandparents or one of his uncles (or any other family member) and I notice something different. I'm not sure how to explain it. The love of the family seems a tiny bit more accepting and I wish he could be around that love more a little more often.

One more veggie tale might help clarify my muddled thoughts. I bought a bag of sweet Maui onions at Costco because I couldn't resist the price. We don't eat onions much – we use only one or two a year so it was dumb to buy four. When I got home and looked at the bag I felt sad that I don’t have family in the area. Because when it is family, you can stop by and drop off a couple of extra onions. And they will like and love you just the same (even appreciate the gesture) and not think you are strange. I want Jeep to have that "extra onion" type of acceptance in his life.

Some days I threaten to pack all we own and move in with my parents or in-laws. Maybe that closeness would give me instant roots, but it would also come with some significant trade-offs. What helps me the most is to be grateful for this moment. We have the love of our family and we connect through email, phone calls and visits as often as we can manage it. We are blessed with great and growing friendships here in town as well as special friends around the world. This place offers satisfying jobs for my husband and me plus spectacular care for our boy. So while I'm still not sure how to grow roots (or what that means or if it is important), today I am thankful for a rich harvest.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly: Reflections on my first year of motherhood

It's Ry's first birthday today. Last night as we spooned, my husband murmurs, "We haven't spend a night without Ryan in a whole year." I ponder on this a moment and said, "I haven't spent a night without him." It's a pretty major milestone--a year--and it's been quite a transformation for all of us. But here are a few thoughts as they pertain to my journey.

The Good
Yesterday Ry laughed all day. It started at Baja Fresh when he kept giving his “starfish wave” to an elderly couple a few tables over. Each time they waived back, he busted up with these big belly laughs, which was so contagious, the whole restaurant was in smiles. Then we went to Longs for batteries (all those frickin’ birthday toys). I hand him my keys to keep him from climbing out of the grocery cart and the checker says, “You got the keys to the Jeep? Vrmmm. Vrmmmm. Vrmmm.” Ry grinned from ear to ear and immediately started doing his own Rmmm. Rmm—for the first time. Then at naptime, there’s loud chortling coming from the baby monitor. I go in his room, and he's standing in the crib, facing the mirror, practicing his “routine.” Now that his audience has arrived, he breaks out into a four-teethed squeal of glee. At bath time, I rub my hands vigorously together to make suds. Who would have thought that that was the funniest thing of all time? It’s hard to be down when you're around someone who thinks you're the funniest person alive. As our nanny said, it’s in these moments that you know what it’s like to be Jerry Seinfeld or a rock star.

So today, I’m thinking about Ry’s very first day and I remember lying in my bed at Good Sam talking to a friend over the phone and saying, “I’m in love.” I’ve never been a love at first sight kind of chick, but August 1, 2005 changed all that. Two months later, I had that feeling rush over me again, when he began cooing to me in his sweet soft voice. Shortly after, my mother got him to laugh for the first time. The feeling came again when he first waived bye-bye to me from the nanny’s arms and then again when he started calling “mum” from his crib. And now it happens almost everyday when his eyes meet mine, we smile, and seem to share in some sort of inside joke.

I had my astrological chart read before I was pregnant (or even seriously thought about getting pregnant) and I was told, “Children in this chart are a love fest.” Which, interestingly enough (I don’t put a lot of stock in this stuff, so it’s interesting to me) that’s pretty much true for Ry. Anyone who meets him falls in love instantly. We had a birthday party for him on Sunday and I’ve been getting several emails ever since from our friends saying he’s one of the happiest kids they know. And whenver I doubt the job I’m doing, my husband reminds me of how much he smiles. Sounds wonderful, huh? Well read on.

The Bad
It’s a given that new parents don’t get much sleep. Everyone talks about it. Everytime someone asked me, “Is he sleeping through the night, yet? I’d say “yes,” just so they’d bugger off. But, going on a year of sleep deprivation, I’m crankier, fatter and I hurt all over (more on that later). I know that if just got more sleep, I’d lose 10 pounds just because I’d be sleeping when otherwise I’m eating. Think about it. If you get up at 5 am, you have to eat two meals before you get to noon. If you got up at 8 am, you’d only need one. And speaking of food, I’ve had constant heartburn for the last two years. First when I was pregnant, but now because I never have time to chew my food. I inhale everything because you never know when or if you’ll get to finish a meal.

The thing no one talks about is what your baby will do to your marriage. Right along with birthing classes, there should be a course on “How not to kill your spouse.” My husband and a colleague (who’s also a new dad) have already started compiling course materiel for “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon 2: How to Survive Your Wife’s Transition to Motherhood.” Seriously, I heard a startling statistic that the divorce rate during an infant's first year is astronomically high. It’s a simple thing, really. You’re both sleep deprived and the kid sucks all your patience, so sadly, you have nothing left for the person in your life who used to be the one that got everything you had to offer. No to mention that you feel asexual, and your self-esteem and body image are in the dumps.

Then there are the well-meaning family and friends who want to micromanage your motherhood. In the early days, I’d wish put the following messagone on the outgoing voicemail: I DON’T CARE HOW YOU OR ANY OTHER MOTHER DID IT. I have five siblings, eighteen nieces and nephews, and a doting mother-in-law of her first grandson, so I get a good dose of unsolicited advice and commentary on my mothering tactics. When Ry was just 8 months, we went to Hawaii with my sister. We didn’t have a meal in which it wasn’t said, “you’re feeding him THAT?” My sister was so intent on letting my baby enjoy the pleasures of food, that it was only two days before I found him eating banana smoothie in the hot tub. But as much as I wanted to keep him on a slow introduction of organic foods, I realized that he is--and will increasingly be--his own person, and as much as I can control what he does now, I’m not going to be the only influence in his life. So let him eat smoothie, just don't ridicule me for feeding him carrots.

The Ugly
A week after Ry was born, I ran out of Vicodin—on a weekend. Can’t remember what the OBGYN’s lame excuse was, but it wasn’t until 6 pm Monday that we got the refill. That was the day I could have easily found myself on the streets trying to score more. I would have done anything to get rid of the pain. There was one moment where both baby and I were screaming our heads off. And if I was paying attention to anyone beside myself, I could have seen the whites of my husband’s knuckles as he tried to hang on to sanity for all of us.

Six weeks later, I had such blood sugar fluxuations that caused fits of rage, often shortly after breastfeeding. I just couldn’t get enough to eat or the right things to eat. And about that time is when the stiffness started. I’ve always had problems with chronic pain, but this was new, different. Now, I wake up in the middle of the night to go to my baby and I can’t walk. Sometimes it’s hard to even hold his bottle for longer than a few minutes. It’s been better with the change in weather for summer, but there was a time last spring, I seriously thought I was going lame.

I’ve had more panic attacks in the last year than I can now count. And there are times when the prevailing thought in my head is running away from my life. A dear friend of mine said once, “After I had a child, my freedom was forever gone.” And this woman is the best and dearest of mothers. But I get it. Even if I did run away, I’d never be free. I’d carry my son around with me the rest of my life, even if we weren’t together.

So…two endocrinologists, a rheumatologist, several massage and acupuncture sessions, several herbs potions, and many therapy sessions later, I’m working toward getting better. And if that’s not possible (as it often is with chronic pain syndromes), maybe I can learn how to cope better. My health is forever compromised due to being pregnant. Hormones aside, my emotions are that much more complex due to being a mom. And, it’s highly unlikely that I’ll ever be as svelte as was at 17 or 25. It sounds trite, how everyone says that “it’s all worth it.” But somehow it is (or maybe I’m trying to convince myself of that or otherwise, I couldn’t go on). All I know is that yesterday I laughed and giggled all day long at even the most mundane of tasks. And the last time that happened, I was a kid. That’s a feeling that, if you could bottle up, would make you the next Donald.

Hi there

I've been invited to the party! Hi everyone, and fellow blog mama's! I'm officially known here as BeachLivin, and I had come up with some other very cool user names, but they were already taken on Blogger. (Isn't that the way it goes?) I do live at the beach, in Southern California, in a very tourist-y location. Our small family - myself, husband and 3 1/2 yr. old son - have been here all of 6 weeks, and it's quite an adventure. But, the real adventure is motherhood itself and trying to figure out what that looks like for me. My goal in writing here is to share a very heartfelt, yet very real picture of my position as a mom, wife and person. Things are not all rosy in my world, yet there are some amazing moments of grace, love, happiness and craziness that we can all relate to. The not so rosy moments are probably very relate-able for some as well - and I hope that will provide encouragement and hope for those encountering similar challenges. As well, this forum will provide a place for me to further discover and reveal myself as a human with real faults, probing questions, and a desire to lean on God for help in it all. And - I won't feel so crazy in trying to balance life while trying to do a decent job of raising a pre-schooler!

I'm going to dive right in to the deep end of things here if no one minds. I've been married for 11 years, and at least 7 of those have been filled with a lot of strife. He and I both came into the marriage situation with a lot of baggage, and we've tried to make it work, but we simply need to get more help, and better directed help in overcomming stuff from our past and really, just growing up. It's a somewhat startling revelation to get to the 35-ish age and realize that one has not fully matured in some pretty important ways. So, I'm in the process of trying to get some maturity and adult-like skills now, which can be a bit of a struggle. (I would highly reccommend getting those skills earlier in life - trying to undo years of bad habits and immaturity is rough.) The other half of the struggle in this, is realizing I married someone who also didn't recieve some pretty important parenting pieces and who struggles with immaturity too. Throw into the mix trying to raise a child and give him the skills and tools that I'm now trying to incorporate, and it just gets pretty nutty at times. It's such a party here - don't you wanna come?? We have been to the brink of divorce (we both consulted lawyers and had very concrete plans of creating new and separate lives) and we decided to give it one more shot. We're trying and we're struggling - again. One of the reasons I like writing for a blog that has the word 'irreverent' in it is because in going on my growing up journey, I've had to cast off some of the traditional ideas of motherhood and wifehood (a word?) to get a real sense of who I am. I was, at a time, caught up in a church culture that taught that the way to pleasing God as a woman, and being satisfying to your man was to keep a very clean house, cook wonderful meals according to a schedule, and make your highest duty in life satisfying him. Hmmmm . . it didn't work for me, for us and doesn't work now, even though that's the place that my husband is most comfortable with as it relates to the whole husband/wife dynamic. So, I'm re-writing the rules in my family, folks, and trying to get my husband's input along the way, but it's not easy. If anyone can relate to trying to break-out of a performance based mentality, both self and other imposed, you know what I'm talking about. And if you can't relate to this please know how blessed you are!!

Well, I've really gone on here. On a more mundane note, we're in the thick of potty training and I've got a little boy who needs some help and attention. He loves Finding Nemo, sharks and dogs and has just started to enjoy frolicking in the waves at the beach. It's so fun to watch him enjoy life - I think I'll go join him.

Crazy on Wheels

Here's Ry, post-party. His ATV and Ya-Ya hat (don't ask) topped the gift list. Fun was had by all, except blondie here who not only forgot food and bib for Ry, but didn't even notice that the dainty cake (that wouldn't have fed more than five people) arrived PINK and read, "Happy Birthday Paige." One of my preggo friend's husbands (who I finally just met today) noticed, brought it to my attention, AND took matters into his own hands to track down the right cake. He's going to make a great dad. Thanks everyone for coming, being a part of Ry's life, and pretending not to notice how crazy I really am.

Newbie Blogger Attends Blogging Conference

I just got back from the Blog Her conference. The biggest thing I learned is that in person impressions can be very different than online impressions. Before today I never really wanted to spend much time on Heather Armstrong's blog despite people telling me that it was one of the best mom blogs out there. But hearing her on a panel, I had a deeper appreciation for her and the writing she's doing. I think I needed that live, personal connection to fully appreciate her authenticity. I've been won over and will be a dedicated fan from now on.

Arianna Huffington was on the closing panel. All of the panelists, including Arianna, were making the obligatory interesting, profound, world-changing comments, yet the thing that stuck with me the most was Arianna's jest that she wanted to create a "sleep movement." She pointed out how we try to do everything, sacrificing our sleep to do so, which leads to moodiness, obesity, and a whole host of other health problems. Amen Arianna. Where do I sign up?

There’s much more to say about the conference, like the very moving Motherhood Manifesto documentary by MomsRising.org I had the privilege to screen, the synchronistic meeting of a woman named Dee, the fun people from Catster, Yahootinis, and the heated debate around "mommy bloggers." But for now I need to get thee to sleep. Tomorrow is Ry’s first b-day bash. Let’s just hope it’s not 100 degrees.

A new 'tude to go with the new "do"

Ry had his first hair cut this week. It’s almost like he knows he’s cuter. He’s hamming it up more than ever. And while he’s hamming it up, I’m feeling like such a looser that I didn't even bring a camera to document the momentous occasion. I'll have to rely on my mental image of him wearing the cartooned cape, driving the racecar-chair, sucking on a pink hair clip.

Which reminds me.... WHY DO PEOPLE HAND BABIES THINGS AND THEN TELL THEM NOT TO PUT THEM IN THEIR MOUTH? Just as Ry was starting to get ancy, the hairdresser hands him this big hair clip to distract him but when he starts sucking on it, she's like "no, no, no." So aggravating. My motto is if you don't want it in his mouth, don't give it to him. But this is a digression…

So, I'm cameraless at one of Ry's big moments. And this is not the first time. Here's the problem: D has the fancy camera. D has such a fancy camera you need a wagon to pull it around. He's the family documenter. Which means two things: 1) We have way to many photos of me, mostly unflattering, and 2) Whenever I go somewhere without D there's no record of it. These photos were, in fact, taken by D upon his arrival home from work and noticing Ry's hair cut. I guess I'm just going to have to get myself some little super-mini digital that I can throw in my purse so I won't miss anymore big moments. If any of you can recommend such a gadget, please do so. For now, AND FOREVER I'm just going to have to rely on the fond memory and certificate and lock of hair courtesy of Kinder Kuts.

Where HAVE All the Mamas Gone...?

Hello...?
Blog Mamas...?
Anyone...?

I know BlogMama is in the whirlwind of home selling and buying, but does anyone else have mothering thoughts, stories, rants or raves to share?

It feels a little quiet around here.

Ten First Year Favorites – Baby Stuff

The Baby Book by Dr. William Sears – this book calmed our fears so many times. It is amazingly detailed so we use it like a reference book rather than a favorite novel.

My Brest Friend – dumbest name in the book, but this nursing pillow offers very good all around support especially in the early days of nursing when perfect positioning made all the difference.

Mountain Buggy Urban Single – so the two handle-bar recalls have been a pain in the bum, but other than that I love the smooth, smooth ride of this versatile stroller.

Swaddle Designs Blanket – the best all around blanket. Soft, lightweight and BIGGER than all the rest so you can easily get any sized baby good and swaddled. Ecological bonus – one version is made from organic cotton.

The Happiest Baby on the Block DVD by Dr. Harvey Karp – my hubby watched this DVD two or three times and quickly became “The Master Swaddler.” He could calm fussy Jeeper in a moment or two using the techniques which were clearly presented and easy to follow. I read the book which was quick and easy too, but especially recommend the video.

Ring Sling – I made fun of these before I took a baby wearing class where I tried a whole slew of baby carriers. I chose a silk sling because the fabric is very lightweight and strong, but also less bulky than most. The ring sling design is versatile and easy to adjust. Ours is from Taylor Made Slings, but there are many similar designers.

Baby Bjorn Baby Sitter Activity Bouncer – I love the simplicity of this baby seat (no batteries required). We didn’t use an infant car seat (we started right off with the convertible type), so it was great to have a comfortable place for Jeep to hang out for a few minutes when we were doing something (like eating) that made it hard to have him in arms or in the sling.

Earth’s Best Organic Lavender 2-in-1 Shampoo & Body Wash by J/A/S/O/N – the name is way too long, but this is great baby soap! It is tear free, concentrated, gentle but very effective and the bottle has an easy open design which is so helpful when you are trying to support a wiggly baby with one hand and get some soap out with the other.

Oball – a toy for everyone! This simple ball is great for babies as young as two or three months all the way up to 100 years+. As Jeep started to crawl he liked to roll the Oball forward slightly and then wiggle toward it. Now he throws it wildly, so I’m grateful it is soft and flexible. The small size is great for travel too!

Seventh Generation Chlorine Free Disposable Diapers – in addition to the absence of harsh chemicals, these diapers just work really well for us. We don't have problems with leaks and I like the simple tan style.

To see more product reviews, check out my post on my top five favorites for Breastfeeding.

Now dining alfresco and will be indefinetly

Our place went on the market Thursday night (about the same time D arrived back from NY--that guy has timing). I must say, after all the de-cluttering, wine-rack stocking, and strategic placement of greenery, the place really looks fabulous. Which is why Ry is now dining alfresco and will be in indefinitely. I was going to say until our place is sold, but now that I think about it, the time you'd save by not mopping the floor three times a day would really add up over time. Maybe Ry should eat outside every meal for the next five years. I thought I it was ingenious to have lunch at my sister's house the last two days (better to dirty up her kitchen than mine just now), but this outside thing is even better (all the benefit sans the twenty questions).

As many of you know, it's completely nerve wracking to keep the house you live in primed and ready for anyone who might drop by and say, want to buy it. We used to freak out about the state of the house every couple of months or so--about 24 hours before my mother-in-law showed up. And that was BEFORE. (From now on, this means before kids). But now we have to keep this up everyday. We have to live like a couple of OCDs. Not only has Ry been banished from eating in the kitchen, but I roll up the rugs in between showings.

While the housekeeping standards have reached new heights, the mothering standards are on the steady decline. D and I have had a running argument over the “repeat play” feature on Baby Einstein videos. From the beginning, I’ve told him not to use it--a half-hour of baby crack is enough. But with all I've had to do this week (mostly solo) I found myself, not using repeat play, but just starting it again when it was over. What's the difference? Makes me wonder if those authors that write all about the ill effects of TV have ever had kids or have ever tried to do anything else at the same time.

Where Have All the Mamas Gone?

About six weeks ago Jeep started saying “Mama.” It started as “ma-ma-ma-ma-ma” and then slowly the pauses started to occur in the right places. I called Bea and proudly announced, “Jeeper said his first word and it was ‘Mama.’” “Are you sure he meant you?” she asked. “Of course,” I shot back defensively.

Truthfully I wasn’t exactly sure. He didn’t look lovingly into my eyes or reach longingly toward me when he said it. It really was kind of random. I believed he meant it for me because I (naturally) was around whenever I heard it.

A few days later I dropped Jeep off with Bea and her kids while I ran to the airport to pick up my brother and his family. When she brought him home she said, “Oh, he definitely is saying ‘Mama.’ After you left he cried and clung to me for a while. He would look sadly around and every now and then he would say ‘Mama’ in a forlorn little voice.” While her story broke my heart to know he missed me so much, at the same time I was bursting with pride. My baby knew how to say “Mama!”

Since then he has also learned to say “uh-oh” when he drops things, “bop” when he sees a balloon, and “baa” each night when we start his bath. Oh, and he says “Dada” now too. Actually, almost all he says these days is “Dada.” Our cat is “Dada,” a ball is “Dada,” of course Daddy is “Dada” and (I don’t want to tell you but I must be honest) even I am “Dada.” Sigh. I know I shouldn’t be competitive and truthfully I’m thrilled for Jeep to know what to call his Daddy. But I l-o-n-g to hear “Mama” again.

Until then, I’ll gladly respond to “Dada.”

Single Supermom this week

D left for New York early this morning. This afternoon, I spent five hours in the car traveling to see a cash-only doctor (well...he wrote this book). In between, we made an offer on that house and decided to put our place on the market. So, while Baby Einstein is lulling my kid slowing into a vegetable, I’m talking to the mortgage broker, the real estate agent, the inspections people, and popping herbal Xanax (courtesy of my acupuncturist) while I stress about what needs to be moved, dusted, or trashed before getting this place on the market. Lucky for D, it’ll all be done when he gets back. How nice.

To get through the week, I’m going to have to rely on the very part-time (yet fabulous) nanny, my robust twenty-something nephews, my new real estate agent, and my good neighbor to help me get through one of the most stressful times of my life. Of course D is only a phone call away, albeit in between business meetings and dinners with old friends. I don’t begrudge him (because he didn’t plan this deliberately, and there’s not much you can do when work sends you on a last-minute trip, and truthfully, he’d probably rather be here manning the show), although it’s hard not to feel just a little abandoned when your dearly beloved is on the opposite coast and these major life changes are happening just as Jr. starts climbing out of the excersaucer. So this week, I think I’ll be getting a small dose of what it might be like to be a single mom. IT WOULD TOTALLY SUCK. But, I’m thankful for my little “village” and next time I meet a single mom, I’ll try to do everything I can to be invited into hers.

Two Headed Beast

While I totally agree that BlogMama deserves validation for the choices and efforts she has made/is making, I don't think the grass is much greener over here in Working Mom Land. I don't get bonuses or an especially fat paycheck but I do earn enough money to cover exceptional (and exceptionally expensive) childcare plus a few economic ends including my family's health insurance. Although I try to be more efficient than ever, I can't give the time, attention and travel that I used to give to my work and I've seen the compliments & appreciation decrease as a result. Plus I still do the lion’s share of kid-care and household duties at home too. With no more thanks or appreciation than the average Mom – working or not.

What I find the most difficult about being a working mom is my split personality. I feel like almost every minute of everyday I frantically flip my focus from my son to my work and back again. The “to-do” list never ends and I have two of them! It makes me pretty crazy and I’ve spent hours talking to my husband and other mama friends about the perfect solution. I’ve come to the conclusion that there isn’t one perfect reality for all mothers but I hope there is a unique balance for each of us. So far, I’m still on a teeter-totter, but Jeep’s awesome daycare, a couple of hours of paid housecleaning a month, and lowering my standards in almost all areas are a few of the things that keep me from toppling.

I have thought a lot about the “career set-back” that can happen when a mom chooses to walk away from work and stay at home these days. While I'm not satisfied with the current economic & cultural situation and the choice mothers are forced to make, I’ll admit career progress has a small part to play in why I’m still in the workforce (although not nearly as much of a role as the health insurance). Honestly I don’t feel like I’m climbing the corporate ladder right now. If I’m lucky, I’ll hold my spot on this particular rung.

I want the nanny's job

This probably sounds pretty backward, but I want the nanny's job. Think about it. I could hang out with my son, sing songs, play games, go to the park, fold adorable hot laundry, all while collecting a paycheck. Does this mean I want to give our nanny up? HELL NO! I'd go insane without the 10 hours of relief she provides each week. But the point I'm trying to make is that she gets paid for doing the same job that I don't.

I know I'm supposed to be fulfilled by this noble notion that I've forgone a steady paycheck (and most of my career momentum) to bring up the next generation. It's the choice I've made and I'm happy with it (most of the time). But in today's society, worth is measured by how high you climb on the corporate ladder. I don’t think that it’s the bonuses, raises, or fat pay checks, that keep so many moms in the workforce (although those things certainly make life comfortable), I think it’s really about what those things represent--external validation, which I’m realizing just doesn’t exist if you’re staying home. Which makes me think that even if I got paid 25 percent of what I used to make in the workforce taking care of my own kid, maybe I too would feel like I put in a good day’s work, and someone might say, "good job" or "thank you."

Why do little people need so MUCH stuff?

We recently bought a new house (well a 50 year old house, but new to us) and have finally retrieved all the CRAP that was in the old house's garage - you know the stuff that you didn't even remember you had and had already blocked out of your memory.

I'm sorry I should have introduced myself. I'm Sheila and have two kids - a joyful, spunky daughter Kiley (3) and a tae-kwon do fighter, Caden (6). We watch cartoons and our favorite for some random reason these days is "Xiaolin Showdown" - hence my screen name. Please be clear we don't watch it for its vast educational value - but rather the cool karate moves that we can practice on each other. It's nice after a long day at work to watch my three year old attempt a flying kick into the couch:) better than into her brother. I digress.

Regardless, we finally cleared the old house of all the old stuff and have brought it to the new house. As I look at the piles of stuff that have overtaken my backyard. I am seriously floored and disgusted by the amount of BABY stuff that we have. I mean the baby bouncer, the crib that I HAD to have, the extra firm mattress, the baby saucer, the boppy and of course, the jogger I used everyday. This is in addition to the boxes of baby rattles, squeeze toys and old bottles. What to do with this pile of stuff - our ode to babyhood??

We're in that strange place of hmmm... should we have another child and if so, we might need this all. Or maybe we should find a pregnant friend or donate it all to a local charity now and if we have another babe then we go out and beg our friends for their used stuff. Either way, when you see it all it is certainly astounding to think that something that comes out at 8 pounds could need so much. My husband and I joke that the next time around, we'll give her an empty box to play with or will dress in diapers and onsies only for the first 6 months, who cares if its cold - we have a ton of baby blankets anyway.

Moving is good and cathartic and forces the purge of all the old stuff. It also makes you nostalgic and reminds you of when they were tiny and smelled like baby shampoo. It takes you back to the only bib your oldest would wear and the cute pink sweaters that were handknit by their auntie. (Yes, I have a few boxes of things I WILL not part with. You know my grandchildren want to wear their mama's clothes!) As much as I lament about all the crap - I also have shed quite a few tears, thinking about just how darn cute they were/are and how much those little bundles of joy really did bring a whole new perspective to me and the way I see and operate in the world.

XiaolinMama's wisdom for the day: I've noticed that the older they get the smaller their toys are or maybe I'm less permissive about what they can buy. We've instilled the buy one toy - get rid of one rule. (This rule is usually ignored during Xmas and birthdays of course. You can't win 'em all.)

Okay to trespass on Federal Holidays

Had our fun neighbors and their 15-month old over for BBQ. Then we went wild and crazy and took the kids up the hill to see fireworks—way past bedtime. There’s a ton of construction going on at the top of our hill. Normally we respect the clear message given by a six-foot high fence and we don’t often venture onto construction sites, but for some reason on July 4th it’s different. Why? WELL…EVERYONE IS DOING IT. So, up the hill, behind the fence, across the field, and through the hole in another fence, we found ourselves sitting amongst the weeds (with about 30 other people) overlooking San Jose and much of the South Bay. The effort paid off--I think we saw more than 10 firework shows. It's like the scene in Superman (we saw it at the drive-in Saturday night) when Lois Lane takes her kid onto Lex Luther’s yacht uninvited and he asks, “Mommy, are we trespassing?” She says “no,” and then quickly revises her answers to “yes.” So in a couple years, when Ry asks the same question, what will I say?

Even Prisoners Have Book Readings

In April my friend Bea invited me to a book reading with Anne Lamott. She had arranged for a family member to watch her kids and was looking forward to time off, spiritual intellectualism and a few laughs. My only experience with Anne Lamott was a quick skim of “Operating Instructions,” but listening to an author who has wrestled (somewhat irreverently as I recall) with both mothering and faith appealed to me.

I work a demanding job in addition to the demands of motherhood. I feel caught in the stereo-typical “mommy wars” - judged for working by friends, family and strangers who are/were “stay-at-home” mothers and also pressured by society and economics to be a successful professional woman. So when I read about Lamott online, I was drawn to the description of Anne “exhorting readers to go easy on themselves and with each other.” I look forward to hearing “essays that are howlingly funny mini-sermons” and a “quirky, funny perspective [that is] nothing short of a salve for tired souls.”

The day of the event I realize I haven’t confirmed that my husband can pick up our son so when I learn he has to work late, I’m disappointed . I call Bea and tell her I’m tempted to bring Jeep and stay until he cries. She encourages me to try it and agrees to get there early to save us a place.

Jeep (10 months old at the time) is in a good mood and flirts with Bea as the crowd files in. There is no cry room so we sit in the back row near the hallway. Anne reads about Easter and cancer and it is as funny and poignant as I had hoped. Jeep giggles when anyone laughs at Anne’s wisecracks and turns with wide eyes every time the audience applauds. How refreshing to stretch my mind and soul while sitting on the floor with my wiggly, happy son! Although on occasion he spouts baby gibberish, I feel relieved and grateful to have the best of all worlds.

After reading, Anne takes comments and questions from the audience. While she tries to come up with an answer to “How do you connect with Christians in red states?” a gray-haired curmudgeon from two rows ahead turns to glare at me. “Get that kid out of here!” he barks. I’m caught off guard for a moment, then retreat to into the hall with bouncy babe in arms.

From the lobby I listen to a woman describe how "Operating Instructions" helped her get through life after the birth of her son. My eyes fill with tears that don’t stop. I return to the auditorium and whisper good-bye to Bea. She helps shove gear into the diaper bag and whisks me outside where she offers sweet words and hugs.

I cry on the drive home as Jeep chatters about the passing trees, cars and whatever else occupies the mind of a pre-toddler. Some tears are angry tears at my husband for having to work late, some are frustrated tears for the man who couldn’t relax and hear the wisdom of a writer/mother because he was too distracted by a few happy sounds from a baby, others are tears of embarrassment because I should have known not to bring a baby to a book reading.

Then I recall a recent NPR program about authors hosting book readings in a women’s prison. Sound like a good program, but what about moms? Like many parents, I struggle to juggle a life that includes a kid and society’s expectations and norms. The lines are fuzzy and I don’t always know where to comply and where to protest. And while I believe it is perfectly fair to ban babies from symphony concerts, I also believe that grumpy old men should be banned from Anne Lamott book readings.

WANTED: Crystal Ball in Good Condition

Took D to 1666 yesterday. SEATTLE SUN says to buy letters to spell out the address. Would that be "One Thousand Six Hundred Sixty Six" or "Sixteen Sixty Six?" Regardless, there's a lot of "s"'s in there, actually kind of sexy now that I think about it.

Back to D's reaction to the house: I couldn't even get him to stay inside long enough to check out the third bedroom. But...the next-door neighbor was kind enough to let us look at her newly remodeled house, which has the same footprint. Thank god for our sassy realtor bold enough to ask. Impressed with the work she's done, D's starting to buy into My Grand Vision. One sticky thing is that it's not in a good school district. It's not a deal breaker for me because it's in an area that has historically appreciated well. I think schools will be a bigger deal 4-5 years down the road when Ry's of school age. By then, though, I'm thinking we might be ready to move again and can afford a nicer area anyway. It’s definitely something that should be seriously considered, though. Anyone with experience on this? Advice? Crystal Ball? Divine guidance?

BTW, so glad for JMUM's post. Talked to SEATTLE SUN tonight and she's planning a post I’ve been looking forward to, so stay tuned. Apologies are in order, I didn't mean to upset anyone, but it looks like my "blog bait" worked:)