Category: Everyday

Start-up Mom

ruthie and thomas

The other day as I drove home from a couple hours spent at the beach I started to feel pretty satisfied with my life. Because I get kinda, you know, whiney sometimes. But after a busy morning of getting work done and a midday of running errands in the heat, we were all pretty content to float in the water for awhile.

Both the kids crashed into a coma during the ride home, so I had a peaceful drive along Lake Washington to remind myself that life’s not really as bad as I make it up to be. For instance, not everyone gets to take a two hour break at the beach in the middle of the day, you know? It’s not something to take for granted.

I was also thinking about our latest camping trip, and the last time we all flew on an airplane, and how easy it was to pack everyone up without all the baby gear to schlepp along. No strollers or playpens or bottles or even diapers! Each kid had a bag full of clothes they dragged behind them and a backpack filled with their own snacks and entertainment. For once I was carrying my own stuff through the airport.

Parenting is a lot like launching a start-up business, I realized in the car. You have wild dreams and expectations and hopes, the joy of birth, the stress and hard work and sleepless nights, the doubt and fear and failing confidence, the renewed hope and second wind, and the joy and stability of an investment well tended.

perhaps I need a nap

eyes

Last night I fell asleep folding the laundry.

(Yes, that’s right, my life is that exciting).

Around 1:30 in the morning I woke up to the distant cry, “I POOPED!” and strained against grogginess to make sense of the context. It felt like the middle of the night, yet I was hearing my son hollering at me from the bathroom upstairs.

Sure enough, he was stranded on the toilet with a dumped load of Number 2, and near hysterics that no one came to wipe his butt.

This morning I asked Bryan why he didn’t wake me up to go to bed, and he laughed. Apparently he called my name several times and physically shook my body, all with no response. And since I’m quite the angry bear when aroused from a deep sleep, he just left me there.

*cough*coward!*cough*

I honestly have no recollection of any of this, yet the other night around 2am a ringing alarm clock next to Ruthie’s bed IN THE NEXT ROOM woke me up.

Whatever. Call me fickle.

The Family Guy

playing carcassonne after dinner

Bryan works hard, and he works long hours, so spending time with the kids takes a lot of planning ahead. If he has to work in the evening, we sit down to dinner as soon as he gets home, clean up quickly, then move on to a family activity for a couple hours.

In the summer we do things like walk to the library, go for a bike ride, play games, or take Lucy to the dog park. During the school year we’ll help Ruthie with her homework or read to the kids or play the Wii – anything that engages us in an activity together as a family before Bryan descends to the office and the kids go to bed.

On the occasions that I allow myself to become disorganized or fall behind in my day or otherwise don’t plan ahead, we aren’t ready for “daddy time” when he walks in the door and those fleeting moments are squandered. Likewise, if we don’t come up with some ideas for our nightly activities in advance, we spend valuable time getting organized and deciding what to do.

It’s definitely a joint effort to maintain the proverbial balanced life, but the bulk of the effort falls on me to make it happen – I keep the trains running on time.

I often feel burdened by this role and flirt with bitterness – why do *I* have to do all the planning? why do *I* have to stick to this rigid schedule? why can’t we just be spontaneous? But when I drop the ball or get sick and chaos ensues, the value of my role becomes loud and clear – our family gets messy and disoriented and irritable when we lack intention.

We miss each other.

never a dull moment

IMG_2301.JPG

Setup, upset, reset.

This is how I’ve come to define our life together – enjoying the moment, but not getting too comfortable in it; being thankful for what we have, knowing we may not have it tomorrow.

This is how I define it, even if I don’t always practice it. Sometimes I get greedy and want more. Sometimes I worry we won’t have enough. Sometimes I wish for The Way It Used To Be. Sometimes I wish we could do The Next Thing.

Contentment and peace is where I want my heart to be.

Bryan is joining a Seattle startup called Lilipip, and I couldn’t be happier for him and for us. At the moment I feel like life is large, the possibilities are limitless, and nothing could darken our brightly lighted world.

Setup, upset, reset.

I hope one day we’ll look back on this season and still feel the same way.

bowing before the porcelain throne

bowing before the porcelain throne

Ruthie became dehydrated twice this week as a result of the heat – and despite my constant nagging about drinking water. As she hovered over the toilet, I held back her hair and stroked her back as she heaved.

I’m not sure how I knew she was dehydrated, as opposed to actually having a stomach virus. Short of a hangover or two, it’s not like I’ve been around anyone before who was dehydrated enough to feel nauseous. But sure enough, after she hovered over the toilet for awhile, I finally gave her a tall glass of water to drink and a puke bucket to lay next to her, and sent her off to bed.

The next morning she was fine.

Someday when my kids are out on their own, I picture them dropping in on each other to share a beer and some banter from time to time. And despite how weird this may sound, I kind of imagine their relationship to be a lot like Dexter and his sister, Debra – she was always barging in on him, and giving him a hard time, and taking swigs straight from the juice carton, and bringing up memories of their dad.

Despite the fact he was a serial killer and she didn’t know it, they seemed close and I liked their sibling vibe.

Aaaaanyway…

I can imagine Ruthie barging into Thomas’ refrigerator and pilfering a beer, then flopping on the couch. As she strokes her aching head with the cold, sweaty bottle I imagine the memory coming to her.

“Hey Thomas,” she’ll say. “Remember how Mom always used to yell at us to drink more water?”

“Yeah,” he’ll say. “That was her answer for everything.”

Pause.

“She was crazy.”

Sweating like a mint julep in Louisiana

lake reflections

It’s hot. Somehow I thought if the temperature dropped below 105 I would feel refreshed, but I don’t. I just feel less hot than I did yesterday.

The house is gross because I’m too hot to clean, and we’re living out of laundry baskets because I can’t bring myself to carry them up to the second floor.

Wait, that’s not much different than any other day….

Seattle Heat Wave

record breaking temps

Yesterday it was 105 degrees. Today it may “cool down” to the upper nineties. But what I’m really looking forward to is Friday’s “refreshing” 85 prediction.

We found a shade tree at the beach yesterday and spent two hours floating in the water. But even still the kids were hot, tired, and cranky at day’s end. Today we may find something to do indoors.

Our house stays cool, considering. Until around 4pm when the sun hits my kitchen, the main floor is typically ten degrees cooler than outside, and our basement even cooler. In fact, as I sat on my basement couch in a damp swim suit with the fan blowing on me, I actually felt goosebumps on my arms.

The biggest challenge for me is to stay on top of dinner. Nobody wants to be cooking in a 100 degree kitchen at 5pm, so I’ve been cooking in the morning and serving cold dinners. In fact, I’ve been waking up at 5:30 all week to Get Things Done before 11 so we can spend the rest of the day laying around complaining about how hot we are.

Perhaps today we will run errands in our air conditioned car?

summer weariness

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Isn’t she beautiful?

I’m really struggling with this little girl right now. She is a challenge, and every day is a series of battles over things as minuscule as Please Put Your Shoes on the Shoe Rack (because apparently that’s the most unfair thing I could ask of her).

And I’m tired.

I’m tired of holding my ground, of being manipulated, of staying on my toes, of the mental challenge, of the broken record, of being late to everything because I have to spend fifteen minutes debriefing a blow-up over not having just the right dress to wear (or whatEVer).

I know not every parent is going to relate to me when I say this, but just ONCE I’d like a simple request (like, “it’s time to set the table for dinner,” for instance) to be met with, “okay mom!” But it’s not. I get drama, I get stomping, I get the The Unfairness of It All speech almost every single time.

I’m the first to admit I don’t do everything right – I lack patience and compassion, I rage, I’m controlling, I throw around a few expletives my children like to repeat in front of three-year-olds and grandmas – but I don’t let her get away with this stuff, and I think that’s why I’m so tired: I’m battle-weary.

Today I actually asked her, “Would you rather I just let you do whatever you wanted?”

“No,” she said quietly.

I thought that was a breakthru conversation, even if I did have it THREE TIMES with her today. Did I mention I lack patience? I don’t like to have the same conversation THREE TIMES in one day.

Which brings up another point, which I don’t have time to get into now. But I’m working through an essay about God’s patience toward those desert-wandering Israelites that’s cracking into some dark spaces and making me feel very tender right now, so stay tuned.

car talk

Thomas: What are we doing here again?

Me: I’m picking up the canopies our friends borrowed.

Thomas: I WANNA SEE THE PEAS!

Me: The peas?

Thomas: Yeah, I wanna see the can of peas!

—

Ruthie: Mom, is the chicken we eat the same as the REAL chicken that goes BAWK BAWK?

Me: Yup.

Ruthie: So we cook the chicken that is alive?

Me: Yes, but it’s not alive WHILE we’re cooking it.

Ruthie: [silence]

Me: How does that make you feel?

Ruthie [smiling]: Good. I like chicken!

spinster lady

I’m convinced if I had a job outside the house that involved OTHER PEOPLE I wouldn’t have a social life. I know I would have a really hard time not being grouchy with my kids. (Let’s face it, I have a hard time not being grouchy with the kids now and I have no excuse.)

I just don’t think I could tolerate being around people that much.

Don’t get me wrong: I love people. I’m surprisingly social for an introvert and must have my peeps, but it still leaves me exhausted.

I had some girlfriends & their kids over for a couple hours yesterday. We had a great time, but I was totally overwhelmed when they left and had to take a nap.

Isn’t that funny? Or pathetic, depending on who you are.

rest in peace, little bird

baby blue jay in our yard

This cute little baby blue jay lived a short life in our yard today, the mama blue jay flapping and squawking above my head whenever I approached. I was able to catch the bird and help it through to the other side of the fence, but it kept hopping back through the chain links.

I began wondering if it was on a suicide mission since my yard contained five kids and a frisky dog today, while across the fence was quiet, empty, and safe.

But a wildlife rescue volunteer told me it was likely getting a flying lesson and may be hopping around my yard for a day or two until he gets the hang of it. So I kept the dog out of the yard and checked on him often and everything seemed to be fine. The bird and its mama even disappeared for a couple hours, so I assumed the flying lesson took.

But just before dinner the baby appeared again, and the mama squawked above my head so I shoo’d it back through the chain link fence to keep it safe from the dog.

Then on our way to the farmer’s market I checked on the bird one last time and found it dead, stiff. Poor thing. I don’t know what was wrong with it – was it injured to begin with? was it sick? The kids and I noticed some yellow puss coming out of one eye, so maybe it wasn’t well to begin with.

What breaks my heart is that the mama bird no longer squawks over the yard where the baby was hopping around, but she now squawks over the trash cans where we laid him to rest.

She kept a watchful eye on her baby and knows exactly where he is.

the flood is too deep

Nobody warned me about the last two weeks of school. I think plenty of you had ample opportunity to wave your arms in the air, wild-eyed and frazzled, somehow communicating to me that I would be run ragged with year-end crap.

So, THANKS for that.

Also, who said I could be depressed? I didn’t order up any depression! It’s been sunny and hot for 28 days, for crying out loud – WHAT DO I HAVE TO BE DEPRESSED ABOUT? But no matter what I do, I just can’t stop crying. And no, it’s not that – how shall I say? time of the month – to be crying, either. And besides, that time of the month doesn’t last forEVER, and that’s how long I’ve been crying. IT’S JUST NOT NORMAL.

And then there’s all the Stuff that keeps happening and needs to be Figured Out. And the Money that needs to be Found. And the Stress that needs to be Waded Through.

So yeah, when I heard this song, I cried the Ugly Cry, because I’m spent and need a twenty year nap.

Ghost Ship: Speak (listen here)
The rain is pouring down
There’s water flowing out
of a puncture in your side
it soaks me to my bones

This flood is too deep
for me to catch a breath
and I feel I will sink
to a certain death

this flood is too deep
this flood is too deep
the blood is washing over me
your ___ that set me free

and you’ve washed me now I’m clean
you’ve washed me now I’m clean
you’ve washed me now I’m clean

in the shadows

“Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me, for in you my soul takes refuge. I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed” (Psalm 57:1).

Here is why I love David so much: sometimes he cries out for God to destroy his enemies, sometimes he cries out wondering where God is as his enemies pursue him, and sometimes, like here, David seems to accept the fact his life is in danger and simply crawls into his God-shaped happy place.

God doesn’t always make the shit-storm go away, but he always provides a wing for shelter. And today, I find that comforting.

A very full cup of AWESOMENESS.

eyes are watching!

Bryan left the house FIVE HOURS AGO with the kids. What a treat to be left in my own house ALONE! I deep cleaned, I organized, I returned long-winded emails that required me to think, I stared at the blinking cursor of writer’s block, and I tackled unfinished projects.

I feel so refreshed that – and I don’t often have occasion to say this – I miss my family and I want them to come home. THE SILENCE IS KILLING ME! This was just what I needed after a few weeks of a little too much togetherness.

Thanks, hon.