Waiting: Another One from the Archive

I have been reflecting on the stages of being a stay at home mom as my dear friend described her crazy start to the week. I love that some of my writing began while the kids were still three under three. Looking at the chaos that used to make up the day makes some of the four o'clock crazies we've had this week sane.

I call the 4:00-6:00 pm hours The Witching Hour. For some reason, the kids hit their peak at that time. I remember keeping one eye on the kids and one eye on the clock, waiting for their dad to come home and spell me. Sometimes, before her knight shining armor arrived, Mommy had to take time out, although that can be a risky endeavor depending on the day.

On one such day, I wrote this poem. I remember it soooo clearly. It's hard to believe how much has changed, how much is better, how the battles are different, and how much is most definitely easier! I think that's one of the best things about life: most of it, is only a season!

Waiting

I wake every morning to your alarm going off

Your son starts to cry just like a clock.

I wait for the warning you are about to leave for the day.

I wait for your kiss, “I love you” you say.

I wait for a moment to drink some coffee;

While pouring milk, cereal and change the movie.

I wait for naptime, so I can start the laundry,

clean the floors and begin dinner because I know you’ll be hungry.

I wait for you to bring stuff home,

To maintain the yard, build little things.

I wait for you, to come rescue me

From the cleaning, the crying, the same old scene.

You arrive home late, and immediately start something new,

On the computer, because your business is YOU.

You come home just to be gone in your head

While talking about my lonely day,

you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.

You ask, please won’t you wait?

You don’t understand that’s all I have done all day. 

I wait for your promises to get done,

I wait for the bills to be paid and money for fun

I wait on the kids, I wait on you

I wait on the animals, on the yard,

on things you say you’ll build or do.

I wait for you to stop snoring so I can sleep.

I wait for the weekend, to have a chance

to spend some time with you after your hectic week.

All I do is wait, all day long, all week long, just to start it all over again.

Seasons change, kids grow, Mom grows and guess what? We all survive! That snow that we are seeing in April will disappear. When the weather finally gets warm and beautiful, the four o'clock Crazies will be running it off at the park. And in the balmy warmth of the evening, Mom will be taking her break in the garden, I'm sure! My, how we all have grown!

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

We’ve all done the white elephant, but this time it is about something different. It’s about connecting and sharing life with others. It’s about reaching out beyond home and being a part of a community. Whether it’s your neighborhood, your town, club, church or online, it’s important.

Unlike most moms that I connected to, I had a different approach to life. Life found me. As much as I thought myself a planner, I wasn’t. I embraced experiences and ended up learning more from them than I thought. My husband and I got married with one kid and then promptly had two more, moved twice and started a business. I started staying at home after pre term labor with my second child. The first four months were bliss. During that time, we sold our house, packed up and moved our household. Then I was thrust into the world of being a stay at home mom.

I was younger than most moms in the local community. To my two, most had one. I was desperately searching out a new routine when I went to a local park with my two year old and two week old baby. I remember the feeling of exhaustion as I pushed the two year old in the swing with the baby securely attached with a Snugli. When it came time to go home, I remember distinctly the crying of my two year old and my two week old as we went back to the truck. Fully engorged, needing to nurse and dealing with a meltdown, I wondered when mom got a chance to meltdown as well.

I joined some local mom’s groups and checked out a few, but the desire to connect with other real moms wasn’t really satisfied. I got discouraged, realizing that what I wanted and what was presented weren’t the same. My kids came into my life to compliment my life, not to complete my identity. As I struggled to find the balance between the two, I talked to my mom. I would cry, wondering where all the normal people were: the ones that taught function, not just paid for entertainment.

As I spread my wings and pushed out into the community to find out if there really was life out there, I found more friends along the way. One came in the form of a consignment shop. I lived to stop by there for not only the friendship, but also the amazing spread of secondhand maternity clothes and kid’s clothes available. Some of my greatest friends came through visiting the store out of a need to just GO somewhere.

I also joined a local Yahoo group for moms, but I wasn’t prepared for where it would take me. We had one gal that was a very motivated recruiter. She introduced me to the people I would share coffee with for years later. Little did I know these women would shape my years of transitioning from a working mom to a stay at home mom. With some of them, I have developed such deep friendships that I have either met them or I have shared our most private moments and many hours with for the entire time since my introduction.

I have shared several different milestones with these amazing mothers: from graduating from college, several births and a couple of grandchildren to fresh marriages, losing homes, Kindergarten, middle school and the things that no one ever told you about being a mom. All of it meant more and felt more normal shared with other women. It took a while, but through many different avenues I finally found the normal that I was looking for in raising children in real life.

It was a slow start easing into the forum that I would soon call home. I based my norm off of these women I shared my life with every day. Some of us would chat every Friday and Saturday night which was a relief from the transition of fun girl to motherhood. The only other example I had besides my mother was a co-worker I worked with for years. When you are stumbling into a new frontier, the best thing you can have is allies.

Many of these women have become real to me through our relationship online. One from Wisconsin regularly sends a Christmas package from her kids to mine. Our family has sent packages to others as well. We’ve gone to a wedding and spent our family vacation with some that live a couple hours away. We have shared so much more than pictures and our deepest secrets in this place. It is a true example of relationships forged through adversity and small every day victories.

When we moved back to Bend a couple years ago, I was sad to say good bye to our small community in Redmond. I was reintroduced to the yahoo group that I was a part of. Having three kids under three was often overwhelming and made it hard to get out. Many of the women that I was unable to connect with before were now available. I spent many a happy coffee hour with someone that I had previously connected with online. I also met new friends through giving away or selling baby items.

Feeling connected and having conversations with adults throughout the day is so important for stay at home moms. It can turn one of the worst hours of your everyday life into a story you can later laugh at. There is insight, sympathy and suggestions for the tight spots. Most of all, there are hugs and warm words when you need them the most. The company is especially appreciated during the hours that everyone else is sleeping or at work. Our circumstances in our household have changed so erratically during the last couple years. I wouldn’t be able to smile and share this story without the support of our family and these wonderful friends.

Although we are busy throughout the day, it is so easy to pop on and chat for five minutes, making it less monotonous. Mommies need time out too sometimes. This holiday season brings a rush of shopping, programs, parties and baking. In the middle of all of the commotion, it is easy to feel alone. Take some time to talk to a friend, to be there for someone else. The holidays are made to enjoy family and friends, to be together. Reach out; share the love, there really IS life out there!

My heart goes out to some of my local mom friends who are mourning the loss of a friend this week. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

One From The Archive

I cannot believe how quickly time has passed. We're on to new things and different lessons, but some of the themes stay the same. I am so thankful that I no longer have 3 kids under 3. All of them are now successfully potty trained, but still retain their witty little ditties they do. I laughed out loud, remembering writing this.

August 16th, 2008

Treasures and Terrors

In these great days of raising three healthy, bouncing children, I am beginning to wonder if there is something wrong with my programming. I think I was born without one very important gene: the MOMMY gene. I thought moms were warm, cozy enveloping sweaters of comfort, ever enduring love that always smelled and looked nice. As I look around at the craziness that has become my life, I am pretty sure that I don’t remember my mom yelling at us frequently or looking permanently like she was going to blow her lid. Some days I wake up just not ready to wrap my head around the new mini mind battles that are about to take place. They’ve been happening with greater force, with less and less time in between them. My kids have had a serious case of pushing boundaries often reducing me to tears through the last week. As they torture each other, I find myself wistfully dreaming that I had gone back to work for that $500 a month after paying daycare and let someone else go crazy with a bunch of kids almost the same age.

While dealing with a brutal force of allergies that I can’t remember dealing with before, Carson, 15 months, has been waking up a couple times a morning with high loud pitched screams of torture for the last week or so while he tries to push some monster teeth through his little gums. He woke me up at 5.30 am the other day. Anthem, the three year old mouth, spent a good part of that day in the corner for not listening. Tristen, the two year old exhibitionist, wouldn't keep her clothes on during a play date. Then she came in with a mouthful of just dirt, acting a little odd, so I was positive she ate something she wasn't supposed to. Only a day later, Anthem woke up at the crack of dawn and took it upon herself to wake everyone else up. Through my morning fog I had an intense desire to scream, kick and cry as I heard her go wake her sister, then creep in to her brother’s room, ruining any chance of waking peacefully and blissfully rested at 8 o’clock in the morning.

I am pretty sure I busted one of their little mastermind operations today. This all started when my kids discovered the snap peas that were growing through the garden fence. They took delight in their own private buffet outside. Being the little vegetable enthusiasts that they were, they KNEW that there were better treats inside the fence. Because it was just a bit too quiet out there, I walked around the back yard towards my garden. Anthem, being the wise coordinator that she is at four years old, took off running from the garden fence, yelling “TRISTEN DID IT”. I see my little blonde haired terror bolt from the greenhouse, tomatoes in hand, trying to scale the fence quicker than I get through the garden gate. Carson is just standing there, taking it all in, wondering why he didn’t get his tomato. Sitting on the fence, in a tidy little row, is all the ripe cherry tomatoes that the little grubber could find. The trail of green tomatoes coming out of the greenhouse was more evidence leading to what I really didn’t want to find inside. My only ripe tomato plant had been limbed in search of the greater treats.

Two years ago, I had a similar experience with my first garden. My children have this love for anything and everything vegetable. I was just beginning to cultivate my green thumb. The green onions that grew and grew and grew boosted my pride and confidence in gardening. Every morning I would go outside, tend to my garden and watch the girls play happily in the yard. In the afternoons, I would let them run in and out of the house while I prepared dinner. One evening, I went out to find that they had uprooted almost my entire prized crop and had savored the ends of them as well. GREEN ONIONS! What kids eat green onions? Apparently mine do. I was crushed. My husband, being the loving kind man that he is, had gone out there and gingerly placed the remaining bulbs back into the ground; reassuring me that they would still grow. The next day, my dog took the liberty of digging them up as well. That is when the garden fence became a must.

My kids have impressed me lately with their climbing abilities. The garden fence was cake compared to what they learned to scale first. We have a kennel out in the middle of the yard. It’s fairly tall and pretty impenetrable to other critters. It started out a dog kennel, and then we started housing the new chickens in there. Their roosting box and their food is also in there temporarily until we get the chicken coop started. Right now, they free range in the yard. My kids really enjoy the chickens. They also enjoy the kennel. I started locking it, because it was just gross to look out there and see the kids eating the produce discards that I threw out there for my flock. My husband started a “roof” of sorts for the kennel months ago, in hopes that it would become the floor for the ultimate playhouse. As most of these grand intentions start out, they soon fizzle out when the funds do or another project gets started and there is usually a fair amount of work left undone. My kids think it is really cool regardless, because the floor/roof, whatever you want to call it, isn’t completely done and doesn’t cover the whole kennel. They learned that since I locked the door in front, they could just climb the kennel, drop over the other side and climb down. It’s a little disturbing to look out there and see my children running around in the kennel knowing that they didn’t open the door.

In the whole theme of the insatiable hunger, because I obviously do not feed my children frequently enough, I have been discovering that food disappears rather quickly in our household. Not at the normal rate for starving children, but like I had a tour of preschoolers come through and ravish the snack shelf of my pantry. The other day, while searching for dirty laundry, I found shriveled up grapes under the girls’ bunk beds. They weren’t quite to the raisin point yet. This morning, I went out to get the chickens some cracked corn and found that my children had noticed that we store the food in there. There were three little granola bars, still in wrappers, lying right next to the food bag. I am not sure if they were tucked away there for the chickens, or in case the kids needed a power snack to push their poor shriveling limbs back up the wall of the kennel to get out next time.

Climbing hasn’t been the only problem I have had lately. In addition to the climbing, nudity has become all the rage at my house. It hasn’t really bothered me much as long as I am not required to participate. I figure that you only get to wish you could do that when you become an adult. We are fortunate enough to live on a place with more than an acre for my kids and animals to run on. It’s fantastic. Though we have a busy road that backs up to the pasture, the place has been fenced really well. The pasture is L-shaped and impenetrable for deer, random critters and unwanted visitors. We also have some really good trees to pretty much block the view from the traffic that zips along blissfully unaware that our little place is tucked in here. It’s when the nudity and climbing combined that it really started becoming not so fun or cute.

One day, Anthem came in to let me know that Tristen had climbed the tree next to the hot tub. I figured she was stuck or something, so I rushed out to see what the problem was. She was in a pine tree with nothing but her birthday suit on. As soon as she saw me, she hopped down and said “HI MOM!” That was a little odd. It was more disturbing, though, to look out while doing my morning chores and see the girls playing nude out in the pasture with the dogs. At one point, Tristen decided that it was time for business. That is when her world turned into one great big outhouse. I am not really thrilled with this new point of view. Since then, I have seen her drop her panties on the deck twice. It’s become this new adventure to her. My husband, being a pole barn builder, often takes the kids on ride a longs out to a job site. After this week, of dealing with the peeing wonders, I was leery of the excursion and told him to watch her like a hawk. Thankfully, we had no incidents while out on the job. I thought boys were the ones that you had to worry about that stuff with. I am on girl number two that thinks that is one great trick and I am not even sure I want to start thinking about potty training the little guy.

My kids’ athletic skills are not the only things that they have been showing off. Anthem has a pretty keen mind and has great radar for picking things up. In the same trip out to the job site, we were patiently waiting for lumber, sitting in the shade during the record setting heat wave of this summer. Anthem turned and looked at me, saying “Whew! It’s hot out here! I’m sweatin’ like a pig!” She must have picked that one up from a movie. My all time favorite display of understanding this week was when I was in the other room, getting ready to leave and I overheard Anthem say “Daddy, my attitude stinks sometimes.” After having a challenging week of wondering whether or not my children have hearing problems or I am not being clear enough, there was a bright window of hope that opened. Of course, there was a glimpse of that earlier in the week, when Anthem told Tristen to stop doing something because it was irritating her. For a four year old, her diction is very impressive. Not only that, but she definitely gets an A on verbal application. I wish the same application was dedicated to listening.

Tristen, on the other hand, is still learning to master the art of parroting. She’s got a couple of phrases that are down really well. Try not snorting when your two-year-old turns to you with a twinkle in her eye and starts counting, “1…2…3…” then asks “Do you want a spanking?” or I really found this one funny, “You want a whoopin?” I am guilty of threatening the first one, but I am not quite sure where the second one came from. Tristen’s best phrase right now is one that will forever be dear to my heart. My kids’ John Deere wagon is one of their most prized possessions. It is only natural that it would be used as a reference point in Tristen’s ever expanding vocabulary. The other day, Wayne called her a ragamuffin. Immediately, she turned around and looked him in the eye and said adamantly in her little Tristen voice, “I not a wagon muffin, I TISTEN!”

As I have faced all of these challenges in a week, I am much more thankful that I have great parents that are still alive to tell me that I turned out okay and that they are proud of me. I keep telling myself that's why it is worth all of the insanity. That one day, the child with incredible obstinacy and an obvious hearing problem, will be a mother just like myself and my mother, with incredible wit. I will be able to offer complete sympathy and comfort in my ultimate wisdom of all things. They provide living proof I will make it. I will most likely have an even greater cultivated sense of humor in addition to tons of lovely examples to pass on to my children one day when they face similar trials.

Legacy of Love

On the way back from Lowe’s today, I listened with glee as my second daughter told me that this was HER plant and SHE rescued it.  She was so emphatic about the ownership, pride emanating from her big grin. When we got home she ran into her bathroom, where she was going to keep it and watered it.  My husband, rolling his eyes due to the crazy amount of plants already existing in our home, strained to see the value of another dollar spent on a plant. However, my heart soared, seeing my passion alive and lighting up my daughter’s face!

I have had a fascinating span of reading this week that took me from pioneers to penthouse apartments in New York. The ironic theme seemed to be survival. The alarming issue was more the prioritizing of what made you a survivor. I suppose it isn’t necessarily fair to put them in the same category with hundreds of years separating the eras for which they were written. However, one was primarily based on money and getting something for an insane price, the other was based on starting a new life based on adventure and experience out of necessity. Alarmingly enough, the arrival of their success or at their destination wasn’t the end. Most people were dissatisfied and still faced the need to obtain something more or deal with other issues. Some were content to just exist in less than satisfactory situations as to not interrupt their new life style or status. Are we really making a living off of this stuff?

In the New York books, artists, writers and actors were shown in an excessive light of constantly being dissatisfied after having gained TOO much. Most of the things that we strive for as regular people would not even be considered good enough for them by their standards. I find it so overly sensationalized that my own desire to go and visit and view New York has significantly been jaded. Having been born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, I find myself reminded that most of us that have been born and raised out here for several generations are the descendants of pioneers, frontiersmen and the lawless. What I found significant in this was the distinct difference in what is important to me versus what is important to those struggling to maintain their lifestyle in the big Apple.

Hope springs eternal in the mind of the romantic. Where do I fit? I ask. Because of my passion for gardening, my home and taking care of my family and friends, I feel as though it is my legacy to leave a romantic's version of life and of love, encouraging people to live their passions. There is no finish line, no arrival point, only living with one hundred percent of what your abilities and ideas are. I have been constantly amazed by the fact that even though the lifestyles differ so much, no one seems to have gained anything different or better than anyone else.  They still face life and lack and desires. I know as families we get caught up in the money dance, thinking we’ll make some, work hard for a few years and then live or have fun or enjoy the kids. Truth of the matter is, we only have one shot at this. We are shaping our future and what we leave behind RIGHT NOW. Money does make the world go around, but this is it.

I thought, working my way up through the medical clinic, that I was building my success. Five years into giving it completely up to be a stay at home mom, the world has another message for me. My experience in the medical from five years ago doesn’t mean anything to anyone right now. It doesn’t better qualify me to get a job.  We get so wrapped up in what we think success and wealth look like. This morning, I saw what it looks like. It looks like love.  It looks like a passion that transforms one ordinary day into the best ever, just in doing what you love.

A Week After 30

A week after thirty I thought I was fine. 

Then the hit fit the shan and my sanity was a fine line. 

My life started changing entirely too fast. 

And loving routine, I felt I was losing my past. 

My husband is lost in his own perfect dream. 

My kids are no longer babies and soon won’t need me. 

School has started and is in full swing. 

Sleeping in on mornings is no longer for me. 

I rush and dash around the house. 

The kids make messes and change their blouse.   

I say please stop, no you can’t wear that. 

They move in a fog and grab funny hats. 

We run out the door and rush to the bus. 

The littles run around and sometimes I cuss. 

No one is listening, doing what they’re told. 

It’s only 8:15 in the morning, it’s cold. 

Please lets go home where it’s cozy and warm. 

With coffee and breakfast, I’ll race you to the door. 

I sit and I type to my friends all online.

I make lists, I prepare, unleash what is on my mind. 

The season is new and the transition is hard.

I’m not ready for this, how did we get this far?

What do you do with a recycled mom and best friend? Reinvent! Life comes in phases. It's ironic that while observing my children’s growth, I assumed that as an adult, I would stop having growth spurts.  Starting a new phase in life is dramatic. In my mind, facing the newness of starting over and re-creating was easy enough. I had a pretty good idea that our family was transitioning into the middle stage of our lives together. Getting my emotional side to let go of the babies and intensity of the new life we started, was harder than my brain had laid it out to be. As I have developed ideas and topics to blog about, I have been able to deal with the emotions, embracing the independence that I once looked forward to and yearned for. 

No longer the mom of three under three with a limited support group, I was now thrust into a new day were I had play dates, free time, babysitters , and overnight visits. Our oldest daughter started school all day long. Our second daughter started to learn how to assert herself and how to deal effectively to get what she wants. My baby, who is now 3, didn't want to snuggle as often. My husband found a hobby that wasn’t detrimental to our relationship and has really displayed his talent. I still didn’t know what to do with myself. For two days, I sat staring at the blank blogger dashboard, apprehensive to start documenting my life and feeling sorry for myself. Women get used to being needed so much, that when things begin to lighten up, it’s hard to enjoy it instead of missing it. 

The other day, I was pleased when the neighbor asked if the littles could come over to play. I realized that it was my window to take that walk/jog that I had promised myself. After I got off the phone, letting her know when I would return, I trotted down the street carting a super-sized helping of guilt.  For what seemed like the first time in five years, I had an hour to myself in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week! It seemed frivolous. In the glory of our youth, we never apologized for things like that. Our time was our time. My time, now that I am mom, seems to be so much more precious. And taking that much of it for myself felt like extravagance. As our children grow out of infancy and toddler-hood we are freed up to do more things for ourselves. Recapturing the essence of self while balancing the roles of mom and wife was uncharted territory. My interests and loves have changed since before kids. The value of my time and money has changed. 

A good friend reminded me that this isn't the end, but more a beginning. It's important to embrace it as a new opportunity, a time to learn. When we take life a little at a time instead of looking primarily at the unknown, it makes it so much easier to roll with it. I was focusing on the wrong part. Instead of realizing that I would have time to write, to exercise, to read, to make new friends, learn new things, I was looking at my kids all being in school in two years and fueling the thought that my husband would find more fulfillment out of his hobby, instead of in my company. The truth is, our kids no longer have incessant immediate needs and we are still best friends. We spent six years building a foundation to move into the next part. How could I forget the days of wishing that I wasn't just Wayne's wife, my kids' mom, housemaid, chef, taxi driver but also Tori, the writer, Tori, the administrator, or even just remember who Tori is. 

That is what this blog is about. Documenting the re-entry into independence. Nourishing relationships, in the home and outside of the home. Getting used to pouring time and energy into myself and others once more, as well as our family and finding the balance between it all. Learning the better side of thirty than what I was choosing to see. I didn't approach my thirties with dread. I truly felt that the 30's were the new 20's. However, I did forget how much we had already accomplished in our twenties.