Pinball Thoughts

Peanut was about 10 months old when I started this blog. He had finally settled into a predictable routine. I was settling into my role as a stay at home mom while the fog of his early infancy had cleared leaving me with the mental need for an outlet and the time to devote to it.

Three years later, Pumpkin is in his tenth month (yes, I'm in denial at how quickly that 11 month mark is approaching since the big bad first birthday is quick on its heels. Sniff.). He's finally settling into his little routines. School's back in and I have found a little mental breathing room in my life again.

As a result, I find my head is in constant action as a variety of thoughts, ideas, plans ricochet their way through my brain. I can't turn it off. Some of these ideas downright inspire me. Some scare the crap out of me. Some require more rumination and research. All demand more physical time than I seem to be able to conjure up and that, my friends, frustrates me no end. The time I *found* when Peanut was this age just doesn't exist this time around with an older child's demands.

My brain desperately wants to latch onto one of these thoughts/ideas/plans and dig in, get dirty in the execution/research/completion. Unfortunately, my physical self can't commit.

Am I rushing into it? Attempting to add more to my plate than my stomach can hold? Or am I afraid? Afraid of starting something I may love, something challenging, something time consuming that may make my short term uncomfortable but could pay off in the long term mama happiness bank?

I wish I knew. Unfortunately, Curious George is almost over and, therefore, so is my break time. One of these days I'll have it figured out. Won't I?

Attention, Attention

Peanut is back in preschool leaving me and Pumpkin three hours together on M/T/W and five whole hours on Thursdays. I'm newly inspired to accomplish all this nonsense on my to do list with only one child underfoot. It's amazing how much I can get done, suddenly. Until I remembered that I should be inspired to pay some individual attention to my youngest.

So, last week after dropping Peanut off at his first day of school, I sat on the floor of the playroom across from Pumpkin, surrounded by toys and attempting to engage him. He, apparently, couldn't care less. He was much more interested in rolling a ball around the floor to chase after, independent of anything I was saying or doing. Hm.

I realized in that moment how much Peanut dictates the tempo of this house. I wondered what in the world was I doing with Peanut all day long when he was this age? I questioned whether I was short changing Pumpkin.

Then we picked Peanut up from school and Pumpkin's eyes lit up once the second car seat was filled with the exuberance that is his older brother. I saw how during afternoon play time, he eagerly wanted to play with Peanut, crawling after him, pulling up on the train table to see what was going on, searching out Peanut's toys to experiment with, imitating him at lunch time, squealing with delight when Peanut popped into his room after nap time.

Although Pumpkin may not get the same individual mom attention that Peanut did, he doesn't lack for actual attention. The example that Peanut sets, the silly things Peanut does to make Pumpkin laugh, the attempt Peanut makes (sometimes) to play with his little brother all give Pumpkin a level of attention and care that I couldn't possibly provide alone.

That doesn't mean I won't still try to play with the roly-poly goodness of my second born, it just means I'll relax into the moments more, not feel guilty for filling the dishwasher while Peanut's at school and look forward to the beauty of their reunions each day during car pool.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

The blank page can sometimes be an evil thing. It stares at you, the cursor blinking, practically daring you to put thoughts to font. Then there is that delete button in the corner. Easily accessible to wiping out the babble, the bleh, the bad. Back to a blank page. Empty.

Somehow the clutter in my mind has manifested itself as a blank page. If only I could put that delete key to work in my brain. There has been a constant flow of thoughts, words, lists and tasks bumping around in my head. The result is a constant noise. An exhausting cacophony of to-dos, what ifs, not dones.

And so it is that I realize I haven't written in more than a week. More frustrating is that I haven't had that burning idea come to me in the shower that rattles around in my head until I just have to share it. And it's not for lack of things going on. Peanut's back in school this week. I'm tackling a side project. Pumpkin's cutting his third tooth and learning how to clap.

Maybe that's it. The busyness of life has clogged my thought process. Maybe. For now, I'll take small comfort in the words I've put down today. I'll work hard to fill another page tomorrow, or maybe the next day. And hopefully quiet the chaos enough to hear my own voice again.

That is the greater truth, isn't it? That we mother's are so busy listening for the cry on the playground, the bad dream whimpers in the middle of the night, the lack of sound when a toddler and a crayon might have been left alone too long, the yawns before nap time, that we often forget to listen to ourselves. And we need to hear ourselves. We need to hear the solutions, the dreams, the voice of our self. The self that isn't mommy. The self that isn't the speediest grocery shopper this side of the Mississippi. The self searching for words to put on a blank page.

So I'll take this rare new moment of quiet in my house while Peanut's at school and Pumpkin's napping to take a deep breath and listen. What will you hear?

A Battle I'm Going to Lose

It's not often that the hubby and I disagree on parenting issues or techniques, thank goodness. We tend to agree on how to handle the kids, the discipline problems, the outings, the TV time. And it makes life a lot easier. Or at least more consistent for the kiddos.

We have, however, come to an impasse.

Next weekend is the Chick-Fil-A Kickoff Game here in Atlanta, featuring my North Carolina Tar Heels against the LSU Tigers. It's been a long time since our football team has earned such national recognition and we've been pretty excited about the game since it was announced. Of course a lot of that excitement stemmed from the fact that we can go see our beloved Heels without having to drive six hours to Chapel Hill with two screaming kids in the car. To top it off, my lovely parents are going to come down for the holiday weekend and watch the boys while the hubby and I go the game. Bonus!

So far, so good. No issues here.

Until we began discussing other activities to take place over the weekend. I suggested that we could take in a bit of the Decatur Book Festival on Saturday morning. I even found out that Anna Dewdney (author of one of some of our faves, Llama, Llama Mad at Mama and Llama, Llama Red Pajama) will be leading a Pajama Parade and reading Saturday morning. I suggested we could go with the boys and my folks that morning, be home in time for nap time that afternoon and then we can head out to the game.

I was then informed: "Honestly, I'd rather take Peanut over to the College Game Day stuff that morning. I mean, it's the Heels."

Books vs. sports. My first love vs. the hubby's. *sigh*

Somehow, I know how this one's going to turn out.

A Delayed Answer

While catching up with a former colleague on the phone last week, she announced that she's expecting. I am thrilled for her and of course offered a very sincere "if you have questions about anything..." And then when asked what my must-haves would be, I drew a blank. I think I threw out some random thoughts on snap bibs over Velcro and cloth diapers as burp cloths, but I'm sure nothing that the glowing, expectant mom hoped to see twinkling on a registry list.

After Peanut was born, I had lots of answers. When friends asked for my advice or opinions, I had them. What I liked about strollers, the best bottles, the most comforting swing, thoughts on play mats and exersaucers and post-delivery expectations... Why is it that it's so hard now? Is it that those were all things I didn't have to consider this time around so the decision making process is that much more distant? Or am I too busy to care anymore?

I think the reality is that the second time around you aren't analyzing the stuff anymore. You use what works and you don't what doesn't. You move through life with a bit more of an accelerated purpose than you did when your focus could be whether this toy or that was holding your little one's attention. For example, today Pumpkin's favorite play things were playground mulch at the park and an IKEA catalog. And I'm okay with that.

So after two kids, here is my list of must haves for new mamas:

* Love - Be ready to feel love in a way that you never have before. In a way that lives and breathes separate from you but inside of you at the same time. Be prepared to lose your breath at their beauty and chunks of time staring into their little faces.

* Patience - Whether it's sleepless nights, post-partum hormones, or fitting into your pre-pregnancy pants, you'll need patience to deal with it all. Remind your spouse of this fact. He'll need this one, too.

* Confidence - Everyone will tell you that your mothering instinct will kick in. In some way shape or form, it will. That doesn't mean that you will miraculously know exactly how to handle every baby situation thrown at you or can whip up a cake from scratch, but it does mean that you will be the best observer of and advocate for your baby. Whatever you do, trust yourself to know when you need to ask for help, ask if something's "right," or stand up for what you want. It's your body (during and post-delivery) and it's your baby. Nurses, doctors, family members, grocery store clerks, they all mean well, but they aren't going to be the ones nursing your baby at 2am or pacing the floors when they've missed curfew in 16 years. It's you and your kid in it for the long haul. Start trusting yourself now.

* Rest - All moms need to recharge in order to be the best mom they can be. You can follow the whole "sleep when the baby sleeps" mantra or simply take a bath or go out for coffee or put on a pair of heels when you go to the pediatrician's office. Whatever it takes to make you feel like you, do it. It sounds easy, but can prove to be difficult. Use that confidence you registered for above to help you stand up for your rest time.

* Stroller/Carrier/Car Seat/High Chair - Yup, you're going to need all that stuff. Don't stress about it. You do NOT need a $1,500 stroller just because the latest celebrimom has it. You do need to pick products that are safe and reliable and meet whatever other standards you have. Just remember that your kid will throw up in it, at least once, no matter how much you spend on it.

* A Sense of Humor - I can guarantee that your sweet, adorable little baby will wait to spit up all over you until after you shower for the first time in two days and put on your last clean shirt. You will also experience one blessed morning when you are actually leaving on time, not 15 minutes late, and realize, as you pick up the infant seat with your precious bundle snugly snapped inside and grinning at you, that he has pooped. Big time. If you can't learn to laugh at these situations, it's going to be a long road.

* Your baby - All you really need is this new little person you get to spend the rest of your life getting to know. And all they really need is you. The gear, the clothes, the toys, it's all just stuff. The soft baby smell at the back of the neck, the lip pursing when they're fast asleep, the sighs, the grunts, the smiles, the cries, the things that only you will know about your child, that's what you'll remember down the road, not the model number of the car seat or what color the Boppy cover was.

That being said, you will actually need diapers. But you can always swipe a few from the hospital at discharge.

Grading Mommy

I chose this. This life. This job. This this. This stay-at-homeness. My choice. For my family.

So, why do I sometimes stop and wonder what the heck I was thinking to leave my job, my professional persona, my heels behind? Why do I feel I'm not as good at this whole stay at home mom gig as I thought I would be?

Back in the working world I suffered through the annual review. I took those days away from real work to complete the torturous process of self-analysis and goal setting for the next year. I strangely enjoyed those meetings, dreaming up new challenges and ways to meet them, looking back on a year's worth of work to see what, in actuality, had I accomplished. New clients, client growth, story successes. All documented in a spreadsheet or report and gone over by bosses and bosses bosses followed up with a line-by-line of new goals and the all important performance raise circled at the bottom, initialed by me, put in a folder to endure the rinse and repeat process the following year.

The parameters for this new job are a bit more variable. Success or failure is fluid, the final results not in until years and years in the future. Instead, I find I measure myself against the day-to-day to-do list. And I'm often disheartened by what I see.

Cooking? Passable. Nothing too inspired.

Laundry? Onesies still banana stained, shorts still ice cream stained and really what is up with t-shirt sweat stains? And that doesn't count the laundry I forget in the washer for three days that has to be rerun.

Housekeeping? Ugh. Don't ask. The house is under a constant tornado watch. For every 10 things I clear off a surface, there seem to be 15 taking their place in the same spot by the time I return to it. I can't seem to get ahead.

The kids? Unpredictable. At times sweet, loving, funny and well behaved. Other times, hitting and pushing and obstinate.

We're all our own worst critics and how any one hour goes can define how we feel about the job we're doing as parents. So why is this weighing heavy on my mind all of a sudden?

Peanut's birthday party.

I put together a "handmade" pirate-themed party for Peanut's fourth. We did a treasure hunt obstacle course, complete with treasure map that arrived in a glass bottle. I had a great time making it theme-y without making it pricey and the kids had a blast. Peanut's still bringing it up and I received rave reviews from my friends and family.

And it felt good. Really good. That's when I realized how rare that kind of feedback is. How long it's been since I had accomplished something concrete with real results. Something that would have made the spreadsheet:

2010 Goal: Peanut's 4th Birthday Party.

Create theme and execute on a budget a two hour party with snacks that results in joy, laughter and memories for the birthday boy and 10 to 15 young guests.

Unfortunately, most of the mommy tasks don't fit so well into the corporate personnel analysis model and I'm left wondering if I'm doing enough, well enough. The fact of the matter is, who would be qualified to judge this job I'm doing anyway?

I know this is a circular problem. There are no answers. There are no yearly reviews to fall back on. There are only the day-to-day challenges. There are only the highs and the lows.

Then there are the raspberries that Peanut blew on Pumpkin's chunky baby cheeks this evening until they both dissolved into wet, sloppy giggles.

That's when I remember that I chose this. This life. This job. This this. This stay-at-homeness. My choice. For my family.

Four

Four. A presidential term. A college education. The number of Beatles.

But today, four means the length of time Peanut has been a part of our world.

I've struggled with what to write about Peanut on his fourth birthday. Struggled partly because I'm still in a post party weekend exhaustion funk, partly because the past year has been all over the map. Three was not exactly an easy age. Peanut discovered his power. The power to stall, to pick the most inconvenient (read: public) moments to misbehave, to hit, to negotiate everything, to push my buttons.

Although this new found power turned a lot of our day-to-day interactions into a virtual tug-of-war that has often driven me to the brink of my patience, we have also had some super fantastic moments.

Peanut started preschool where a whole new little boy began to emerge. A confident, although sometimes coy, learner. A kid who started to learn how to make friends and negotiate those relationships on his own. A boy who is starting to find his legs (in all their gangly, knobby-kneed glory) and use them for more coordinated play, running, jumping, dancing, climbing. A curious child before school, he is now even more so.

He is a creative child when it comes to narrative play and building, less so when it comes to coloring or art. He can be literal to a fault. He is a sponge when it comes to letters, spelling, numbers, books. He is a creature of habit. He loves slapstick and will watch Wipeout with his daddy (DVR'd for Saturday morning viewing) and America's Funniest Videos just to laugh at people falling or getting hit in the face with something. I watch simply to watch him, giggling at his reactions.

He also became a big brother this year. He can be a sweet and loving big brother. He loves to make Pumpkin laugh, will offer him toys and roll a ball with him to Pumpkin's delight. And then, he can test his boundaries with baby brother with a random whack, push or bonk. Recent weeks have shown Peanut finding more joy in his brother and the potential for their play relationship and I can't wait to see what develops as Pumpkin continues to grow.

He continues to amaze, confound and tickle me. I am blessed to have him in my life, Pumpkin is lucky to have him as a big brother and our family wouldn't be the same without him. Even on his most difficult days, I count myself lucky to be his mama.

Happy Birthday, Peanut.