You Know What Happens When you Assume

I can't tell you the number of times things have been assumed about me because I am self employed.I've either overheard or picked up Some things are good, some bad. Most are just wrong.

My business began during a time of intense turmoil in my life, both professionally and personally...until that moment of Divine Intervention. Prior to that moment, I spent the first 3.5 years of my son's little life juggling a young career and a young life. Not the easiest thing I've ever done. Committed to being with my first son as much as possible, I was actually paying for full time daycare to send him part time, or at least the hours I needed them. There was no "flex" time available. My part time work was actually a full time salaried job, downgraded to hourly and forced into a 25 hour a week time frame, at my request. I did this at my last two positions, I kept all my duties, but did them in less time. It made me very efficient, but also took some money away and kinda made things really rough. But it kept me in the game during a time when I could have easily dropped off the field.

Just a few examples of the nutty assumptions of the self employed:)

1. I am available 24/7. This applies to the fact that I have a home office. Personally this means that it is assumed that it's easy to tend to the house and to my work simultaneously. Most of this assumption comes from, well, me. I absolutely HATE working a house that is not tidy.  I put a ton of pressure on myself to do it "all" and I am trying to change that.

2. I have a ton of free time. I can't remember the last time I watched anything regularly on tv, or wanted to actually. The fact that I take yoga and work out - well those "extra curriculars" come at 5:45 a.m. if I am lucky enough to sneak out before my baby starts wailing. Anything mid day or late afternoon is out of the question b/c it's the Carrie show until hubby comes home around 6:30.

3. Life is easy when you work for yourself. This may be the funniest one. Life isn't easy for anyone, much less those who find themselves on constant interviews trying to land new clients (which happens much more often than when you are working for someone else), ensure "paychecks" are received on time and those who work for you are paid promptly. If one item in that equation goes wrong, guess who is ultimately responsible and has to cover it?

4. I'm just lucky that I am self employed. There have been many times where I have been blessed to be pursued by various companies at the same time. There have been times when I have actively sought new clients. I'm always working. Hard. Luck has nothing to do with it.

5. I have it easy. In some ways this is true, in that in SOME ways, I have it easier. Unless there is a set meeting, I don't have to stress about how I look before 8 a.m., I can load the dishwasher and then sit down to work, etc. However, I have to be an expert time manager to meet the needs of multiple "bosses" and their individual deadlines in addition to caring for my family and handling most of the family business. It's just what is. Hubby works too long and too late and therefore if I am not on my game every day, no one gets to play, which is unfortunate.

It is 100% true that I am way happier working for myself - no assumption here - just fact. It's scarier being my own fearless leader, but I would not trade this life for a job that paid a ton more. Being with my kids and having a crazy, but flexible schedule, it so worth it.

I want to be like HER

A friend passed this week. Tuesday, October 11, around 8 a.m.

She was 69 but didn't look a day older than 50.
She was absolutely beautiful. She resembled Barbara Streisand, but she was prettier.
She was amazingly talented.
She was smart.
She was confident.
She was particular.
She was kind.
She was overwhelming in every good way.
She was, by all accounts, a tremendous mother.

I met her when I was about 15 years old. She was the mother of two of my friends. At that time they were transplants from Louisiana and were just a "tad" different than all of the other boys here in Beaufort. I was instantly interested in knowing more about them. What happened over the course of high school was something I didn't expect. I fell head over heels in love with the entire family. Mom, dad, brothers, dogs and their different way of life.

I felt welcome in their home. I felt special in their home because they were special. They all have an energy that zips around you and bounces off of you and just makes you smile.

Back to "her". She didn't care where you came from, but  instead cared about where you were going and it was clear that she would offer advice if you asked for it...but you'd better be ready for it because it was going to be real no matter what.

As time passed and years separated me from this family, I thought about them many times, kept in touch, invited them to my wedding, stopped by to say hello every chance I could through college, home visiting my parents and eventually with my infant son. My how she ate him up the first time she saw him. She was itching for her own...and she eventually got two of them, by the way, two beautiful toe headed gems who look so much like her.

My adoration of this woman has likely never been announced before now. I did tell her, the last time we spoke (not realizing it would be the last time) a few months ago, that she did an incredible job raising her sons and how amazing I thought they were after all these years. I meant every word.

Any woman who could turn out gentlemen like her sons - honest, true, bright and gifted - well, she should be envied. I always felt a little odd about how much I adored them all and wondered if they had any idea. Guess that doesn't matter.

One of the last things she told me before she became ill  was that she knew I'd end up being the director of my boys - and that she too was always the director. She said that while it was sometimes hard, everyone would appreciate me for it someday. I didn't realize what those words would mean to me until today...until I saw her boys, now full grown men, with fresh tears, tight jaws and aching hearts. How they loved their mother. How they honored her today.

My true prayer is that I will march to the beat of my own drum, just like she did, that I will risk being different to be successful in all the ways that matter, just like she did.

I am grateful for knowing  her. I will miss seeing her. I will miss being slightly intimidated by her.

Thank you, Lord, for people who affect us in these ways and may you protect her and cherish her forever. Please send your angels to guide her husband and her sons through this pain and pick them up when they fall down. They no longer have their mother to tell them what to do or which way to go and they may need a little extra steering now and then. But of course, you know that.

Growing Up Carper

It's October. Rowan is 13 months old, Micah 6 1/2. It's a bittersweet time as Ro really is so much more like a toddler than a baby and Micah has taken some great strides in school and in maturing in general. I, on the other hand, seem to be hanging on to my babies for dear life, unwilling to let them go. Ok....that's a little dramatic, but overall pretty true:)

At Rowan's one year check up he was in 31 inches tall and 23 lbs. 2 oz. A big boy for sure! He wears a 4.5 wide shoe and has conquered all the "normal" milestones one might expect for a one year old, except he conquered them about about 8-9 months! He walks, run, jumps off of furniture (and has several bruises to prove it), eats EVERYTHING, food and otherwise (soap, dog food, mulch, rocks) and has recently discovered what playing outside is and will have play time no other way.

Ok, that sounds bad. We spend tons of time outside but over the past two months, we've started allowing Rowan to play with Micah (with us supervising) outside. He wants nothing to do with baby toys. He goes straight for Micah's bike and four wheeler, points and yells b/c he wants us to push him around on them. It's incredible and super funny to watch. He'll rattle off some serious jibberish when trying to tell us what he wants.

Speaking of, well, talking...Rowan can say duck, mama, da-da, ma-na (Micah), melmo (sometimes and it means ELMO) and can sign the words more, thank you and banana. He also throws his arms up in the air whenever we ask him to say "touch down!".  He is never still. He does not sit quietly anywhere for anyone. He won't let you hold him and walk him around for long until he just throws himself out of your arms to move on to the next thing. He is afraid of NOTHING. He does not cuddle unless extremely tired. He's loving (jumps and rolls on us every minute of the day), very happy and VERY loud. He may be the loudest member in my ENTIRE family and the loudness begins daily at 6 a.m.

Rowan sleeps 7 p .m. - 6 or 7 a.m. and has just transitioned to one nap a day. This came when I moved him to a part time nursery program Sept 1. I transitioned him slowly, leaving him for just an hour at first, then increased each time we went. He seems to really like going and I'm told he rarely cries. He's totally exhausted when I pick him up, as I think he'd still regulary take two naps, but we're doing ok. He goes 3-4 mornings a week.

I still think Rowan has a lot more of my features than Micah has, but overall still looks much like Gabe. People say that both of my boys have my smile. I'm not sure what I see. I'm too busy feeling...man I love these kids!

 Rowan's hair curls at the bottom when he's sweaty...Micah's never did that. I don't think his hair will end up curly like mine, but he definitely has more wave...and I don't want to, ok, refuse to, cut it. Gabe is ready for a trim, but I have threatened his life.

re

 Micah has returned to public school for first grade and is doing very well. He has a great teacher and he seems to really respond to the classroom structure and goal setting his teacher has established. I still have issues with the classroom size and the lack of communication, but I can see how hard his teacher works and how limited her resources are so I have made a point to make myself as available as I can and to help out if she needs me. She is a single mother of two, one of them a first grader, and yet has such control of the class. Micah tells me she is funny and that she should come to our fun parties (cookouts, etc), so I can tell he really does like her and respect her because he tries to please her. He want to succeed.

He's grown up so much and it seems that overnight he began reading everything. He is really reading quite well and even got picked to be one of the narrators in his class's production of "Johnny Appleseed" last week.
He has more trouble with math, but nothing major. The state testing has come and gone for the fall, I think, and having this been our first time with it, I think the process kind of stinks. Micah's doing well, but just the other day his class was forced to take the test in one day, and it was supposed to be done in two parts. The note we received was that the principal "just found out the deadline" for the tests to be submitted...not sure what that means for the kids' scores...if they were rushed, had anxiety, were tired, overworked, etc.  The day he performed in "johnny appleseed" he had a spelling test, the state testing and the performance. Way too much in one day.

I know that I still really like the idea of homeschooling, in some form. I'm not ready and neither is Micah...but it's still on my mind and heart and we'll continuing praying through it. Year by year, month by month, I'll do what is best for him. I know for sure that he will not attend the local middle school here as I have already witnessed several things that are completely inappropriate and shocking. The lack of control scares me. I've witnessed these things because the school is right across the street from Micah's school and when school is let out, all hell breaks loose, or so it seems.

Micah has also become a Cub Scout and Gabe is his den leader. The moment I saw my men in their uniforms my heart exploded. I felt so lucky to have a husband with so much dedication and love in his heart for his kid.

Micah remains a part of AWANA at a local church. There he learns a good dose of scripture while having fun with kids his age. I have decided to do this with him each Sunday night instead of dropping him off and leaving bc it's a way for us to spend quality time together. I caught this picture of Micah explaining his favorite story to a new friend in the club. It was the story of David and Goliath and my heart was SWOLLEN with love as I saw him tell this little boy all about it.

While my boys are 5.5 years apart, there is so much love between them. Micah gets annoyed when Rowan walks over and steals his food or his toys or gets too loud, but he's quick to giggle at him and rarely cares when Rowan barges into his room and starts helping himself to his toy bins and books. I sometimes take that for granted. I should appreciate that more.

Each day is an adventure and I find myself often shocked about another week or another month passing so quickly...and it seems I get an immediate birds eye view and realize that life really is this short...and it really is passing quickly...and they only stay little for a very, very short time. I treasure being a mother. I love my sweeties, with their strong, stubborn wills and their hysterical laughter...now if only I can find a way to slow down that clock...

Glass Ceiling?

I was hesitant to begin a blog because I was afraid of not being able to post regularly. Well, here we are, 6 weeks or so since my last post, and it turns out I was right.

Over the past two months or so, my son turned one, simultaneously sprouted 6 teeth, contracted strep throat and two wicked rashes (don't ask) and my oldest started first grade and began truly noticing the world around him - and has started the path to growing up (you know, that one that shows you how different, how good and how bad other people can be and what to do with yourself when exposed to all of this).  I was preparing, more mentally than anything else, to home school him for many reasons, but he's currently thriving in his class and I will keep him there as long as I see a smile on his face, his excited bouncy walk and hear his dizzying chatter about all things first grade:)

In this time I have also taken on an associate, who has already proven to be an answer to many prayers. She's a wiz at the things I am not and compliments the things I'm already good at. It took me a long time to get to a place in my head where I realized that I could do this - and exactly how to do this when I don't exactly make millions. Turns out all I needed was a little faith.

Having someone to bounce ideas around with, to validate feelings or actions has proven to be of immeasurable value to me. I was hung up for so long with my control freakishness and wasn't open to allowing my business name to be shared by anyone. Did I think I was perfect? ABSOLUTELY NOT.  Did I think I could handle it all and then some - NO, YES, MAYBE. Was I willing to learn from someone else? ALWAYS. I can say with pride that one of my greatest strengths is being able to dig inside and rework...I just didn't exactly know how to do that on the outside.

Together I think we have the drive and the strength to make something pretty great out of the small business I began some three years ago. I'm stronger than ever, mentally and physically, and ready to take the next big bite.

Just today I was thinking back to all the opportunities and experiences that led me to Adagio Creative, on main one being a Business Woman of the Year event that took about 8 months of intense (read: tedious) planning. For months I would meet and read up on women who fought against "the system." I'd listen to round table discussions on business tips and concepts about women in business and feel very strange. The struggles I was listening to about unequal wages, treatment, expectations, etc., was so foreign to me. I guess the battle has been fought well, b/c I have never once in my entire life felt like there was something I couldn't or wasn't supposed to do because I am female. I'm not saying there aren't struggles headed my way, but currently, I don't fill ill prepared to face them. I also have to thank my mother for raising me with a thick skin and a can-do attitude. I can do what I do because I'm human and I work hard. Expect nothing until you give everything. Period.

Whatever the future may hold, I'm currently grateful for a career that allows me to mix, mingle and work with the best of the best as well as be a present mother, who on most days finds herself getting baby kisses and hugs and who can be there for the majority of the things that are most important to her oh-so-speedily growing six year old.

This is something I didn't always have - and so maybe that's where I'm wrong. Maybe I've forgotten a little bit about what it's like to have a very strict schedule that is dictated by someone other than myself. I should remember this struggle more and never take flexibility for granted, though I think everyone needs and deserves it. Flexibility only works, though, if you have an iron grip on reality, expectations, and the next project that will teach you about yourself and stretch you to be all you can be:)

Life is good.

Carper, Party of...

I don't even have to guess how many working moms can identify with the daily grind, the juggle, the "you must be three different people all at the same time every moment of the day and not go insane".

Right????

Please tell me I'm not alone.

Things that should take a very short amount of time take much longer with children in tow. It's why I have childcare - though very minimal. There are simply times when I CAN NOT be more than one person at one time to be effective at, well, anything.

Anyhow...after days like today - when the balance was far from easy, when my husband got home 1.5 hours later than he planned and the dinner that caused me great stress (insert screaming baby and super hungry whiney 6 year old here) to prepare was first cold and then left alone (poor guy was so exhausted and hot he couldn't eat)....I wonder how many more times will it be Carper, party of one.

One person to cook, clean and run the house - and a business, one person to take my eldest to all extra curricular activities and one person to sit up late after all have gone to bed and stew about it.

:)


P.S. I'm going to bed now so I can get rid of this attitude:)

If I build it, will they come?

One of toughest parts of what I do involves some serious waiting...funny how I don't seem to be gaining any more patience:)


- I wait for ads to be published - to make sure they look exactly as intended (and if they don't, I have a bone to pick)

- I wait for press to pick up my news releases and for media to return my calls so that I can pitch a client's story - or remind them why a client deserves that extra attention:)

- I wait to for my work to, well, work - IF I BUILD IT, WILL THEY COME?

There's always a moment - usually just before an event starts - when I question whether enough was done to fill seats, to give the entertainment I hired an audience, to make a difference in my clients' bottom lines, etc.

I work with many clients on many events - some have big budgets for advertising, some none at all...and I am, as of today at least, pleased to say that I have managed to keep clients happy - their success is my success.

As the economy gets worse and as people try to keep their doors open and their bills paid, my phone is ringing and I am thankful. People want help building it - so that they will come.

The Magic Hour

7 p.m. - the magic hour. At least it is for me.

That's the time when my youngest goes to bed, my oldest slows down a little (unless he's outside playing with a friend in the yard) and I get a little sanity back. 

If I have something to do, (and truly, when do I not) it's the time that I can go do it because my husband usually walks in the door about 6:30 p.m.

It's the time when I am (usually) free to pick up where I left off with work (though I prefer when possible to have my oldest in bed too before I do that), go take a class or rush off to a client's event.

It all sounds great...my treasured 7 p.m. time...doesn't it?  Well...I should mention it's also a frustrating time b/c when I finally have a moment to be "me" and go and do what I want to do - which is usually some form of exercise (seriously - I should be in MUCH better shape than I am considering how much I adore physical activity), there isn't much offered.

It appears the majority rules thing - well, it rules. Most people, as I'm told, prefer to go straight to a class after work, 5:30 p.m., so they have their evenings free. I get it. I think it's great. I think - we live in a small town with a ton of people who ACTUALLY leave work at 5 p.m. That's not an insult, I swear - just an observation.

In Charlotte, where I worked before moving here, there were classes at 7, 8, 9 p.m. Most people had somewhat of a commute or just worked late - every single day, so 5:30 was not the only option. So you can imagine my surprise upon my return to beautiful Beaufort. I can't blame the businesses, they are doing the right thing - simple supply and demand, right?

Sure there are the 24/7 gyms (ok there WAS a 24/7 gym but that was not my bag baby), but I want community, I want fellowship, I want to sweat and laugh and yell and all that with people around me! I'm an extrovert for GOODNESS SAKE:)!

Most suggest getting a sitter that time of night. That MIGHT be doable if I weren't already pouring money out for childcare during work hours #moneydoesn'tgrowontrees.

So I'm left with three options:

1. Go running (great, but not something I want to do 5 x a week, or 4, or 3...more like 2)

2. Take the children with me (SO THEY CAN TOTALLY FREAK OUT everyone in class and my newly walking baby can fall and scream at JUST the right moment) - not a chance.

3. Do what I do now and wish those who can be free at 5:30 well and know that my time is coming soon:)

So you see what I'm sayin. All is well, life is good...but please...if you know someone struggling to break out (haaa) - give em an hour or so of your time (read: watch their children like a loving hawk) to laugh, cry, scream, sweat, eat, drink, whatever makes them a better, well, them.

And that is all from the peanut gallery tonight folks.

Only One?

Yep, I'm a huge Eminem fan. He's vulgar, violent and I won't let my kid listen to him, but he's honest and raps about real things, his real life, no matter how good, how bad or how ugly. I feel like I read his diary when I listen to him. Weird? Maybe....but then if you know me, you'll just shrug this little oddity off like all the others.

So I think of this song a lot when it comes to my life. We get one shot, right? At everything or just some things? 

With my children, it's so obvious to me that if I screw them up, not much else I achieve will matter. Sure I can save for therapy later for them and do what I want now, but, well, that doesn't seem like the best option.

Anyhow, I know where I stand on this, I know every time I look into the eyes of my little boys or see either do something for the very first time that I am on the right track. I know because I am there. I see these things happen. I document them. I talk endlessly about each child's new ability.

But then something (s) happens. And I second guess everything:

• My oldest and I disagree - A LOT. Should I just send him to after school care and be done with it?

• He's also recently diagnosed with "A.D.D." and "Oppositional Defiance Disorder" (arguing for the sake of arguing). I've got another whole blog post brewing about what I think of these things (can you tell I doubt the field of medicine lately) but my point is - AM I DOING OK? AM I THE RIGHT PERSON FOR HIM TO BE WITH IN HIS FREE TIME?
  
  
• I see friends and colleagues excel and while I am excited for them, my workaholic nature kicks in and I start wondering if I should have taken on just one more client, if I should have done this, or should do that, etc. If I did, surely I could afford ...
  

I suppose the grass is always greener.

I suppose I could approach my work life differently.  I would eventually get over it if I were not the first to witness my baby's smile, first crawl, first steps or even (cause he did it and it's so stinking cute) his first dinosaur growl (at a book!). I suppose I could just pay someone else to take my son to karate, to swimming, to soccer and ask them to video. I could even "make up" my lack of attendance by giving him extra special gifts to let him know I'm thinking of him. I could be sure to attend just the games or the meets and not worry about the time he spent working on his six year old skills.

Or I can continue the daily juggle. I can stay committed to my small list of clients and give them 150% instead of 75%. I can truly invest and be what I want to be for them and to them. I can race my husband to the shower each morning after going to bed last and waking up first so that my communication with well, people, places and things around me stays solid . I can continue what I think is a pretty damn good balance of work and life and make the necessary financial contributions to my family. Notice I said necessary. I am an expert time manager and planner. I will acknowledge that about myself (as I usually find it impossible to toot my own horn, so to speak). I know when to say when personally and professionally after years of trial and error and being told I "burn the candle at both ends."  That stopped when I had Micah.

I spent years in non profits with an hour commute both ways to the office. I spent 30 hours a week 45 miles away from my Micah, my then infant son. I did that for pennies (because being in  your mid twenties is customarily a time frame for "entry level" positions where you work your butt off for nothing to prove yourself) -the very ones that helped meet our family's bottom line. It was not easy. I convinced my boss to allow me to do my full time job in 30 hrs instead of 40-ish so that I could have those 10 more precious hours with my son.

My business was started by Divine Intervention. There's no doubt there. It's not even worth speculating. I was supposed to do it. The rest is between me and the Big Man. It has provided TIME (with my kids) and FLEXIBILITY. It's given me courage. It's been amazing.

 But it's funny how easily I get thrown.

Just the other day I turned away a pretty lucrative opportunity. Had I taken it I could have afforded to redo the bathroom, get the much needed sod for our yard and start on the numerous things I WANT to do to our home.

I was also recently asked, by a woman my age, when I was going to put Rowan in full time daycare and go back to work. Ha! I must be doing one hell of a job to fool someone into thinking that I don't work. I work 24/7 but am also a present mother 24/7. Balance.

So yes. I guess you only get one shot. It just depends on what you're aiming at.

Disclaimer (read: don't even try it): 

Let me clarify, just in case it's necessary, that I am not downing women who choose differently. I am merely relaying my experience (after all, there was such a thing at the women's movement way back when that served as the launch pad for much good in this world:) ).

She Marches to the Beat of Her Own Drum...

If only I had a buck for every time I've ever heard that.

It used to bother me - not so much anymore.

I get the feeling that my parenting raises an eyebrow or two at times. I find myself, more often than not, feeling defensive or hurt when I likely don't have to. It just happens. Maybe that's just a part of motherhood. Maybe that's something I need to work on. Time will tell.

For the most part my oldest is pretty cool. Ive mentioned his temperament - easily irritated, kinda whiney, in time out ALL THE FLIPPING TIME, etc. He remains, however - fun loving and totally nuts as you can see in this video.

He has a heart of gold and a sweet nature that I am so thankful for - but mostly see in the evenings or around bedtime. I took this picture just a minute ago - this was my hat from way back when and I gave it to him. He didn't want me to leave his room at bedtime but I guess when he did - he decided to keep a little piece of me with him:)

So back to my point - the drum thing. I kind of HAVE to march to the beat of my own drum re parenting partly b/c I feel a bit isolated. My parents live in town but my father works so hard and so much (retiring this year though!) and my mom is very ill with MS and is at home all day. So my kids can't really go to "grandma and grandpas" house often for obvious reasons. I find myself very envious at times of those who have their parents around to help babysit or even just help on a minimal level. But then I get over it. God gives us what we can handle - and I "got this."  Right???? Let's hope so.

When Micah was born, I think I went a little nutty. The change in our lives was so abrupt - the colic, the sleepless nights, the immediate stopping of graduate school, my constant reading of every parenting book on sleep habits, my comparisons of myself to other women....ahhhhhhh, sweet memories:)  I was SO rigid with Micah - but for good reason - the boy WORE ME OUT. If I didn't stick to a very tight schedule, we would both lose all control. People rolled their eyes, spoke under their breath about my "strictness", etc. It hurt so much to fight a silent battle against who I THOUGHT was everyone I knew.

I remember being around families who were much more flexible...naps were anywhere anytime and the baby was happy, etc. Pop a Baby Einstein in, and the kid would sit for hours....give the baby a hug and kiss and say "night night" and he/she would JUST LAY DOWN. Amazing. Not Micah - not by a long haul. I can honestly say that I didn't sleep through the night for about 2 years. He woke all the time - not out of hunger-he just woke up. Who knows why - maybe a giant SOMETHING was prying his eyelids open. I comfortably say  I DO NOT KNOW.  I wasn't into the crying it out thing bc it scared me. I didn't understand it. It made me shake inside. But I also wasn't a pushover....so I met him halfway....and eventually we settled. I remember feeling as though no one understood me, what "I " was going through...b/c for whatever reason (anytime you wanna tell me God) I seemed to be the only person in my "circle" with a child "like Micah".

It's funny - even just today, as the repair man was out my house fixing something, he could pick up on Micah. He said "that boy's got a heart of gold, but is a handful, isn't he?"  I smiled.

When I became pregnant the second time, I could barely handle the morning I was to find out the sex. I had a dream of a little boy with dark curly hair the night before but then convinced myself I was going to have a girl. 

 As the ultrasound revealed another baby boy, I cried tears of complete and utter joy. I couldn't wait for another life of rocks, trucks and sticks:)  

But then....

People started saying "oh no, hope you don't have another micah" or "wow - are you ok? Can you handle another Micah?"

I was floored. I was hurt. I was defensive. I was ready to PUT MY GAME FACE ON. In fact, I DID put my game face on.

"I'm sorry, what?!" would be my usual response.

Most would retract at the sight of my bulging forehead vein. "I mean...Micah's so full of energy, how will you deal with two?"  

"What do you mean?." Would be a usual reply. What people didn't see was the weight on my chest, the uncertainty in my heart. Three hernias in and the hottest summer in recent history, I started to let those comments in. "What if I am awake for the next two years?" I would think to myself." What if Micah totally  flips? What if I am not good enough?"  

Well.....here I am 9 months later.  I got through a second colicky season. I managed to get my anti-bottle newborn on a bottle by 4 1/2 months (was NOT easy) and I managed to get him to sleep through the night much earlier than Micah ever did. I manage to clean up poop and spit up with a giggle. You know why? 

I kept all the books closed. Ok, except for like one crazy weak day:)

I prayed. ALL THE TIME.

I looked at this small human with small human parts and LOVED HIM. Took care of him and got some perspective. I watched him.

I was STRONGER this time around.

I was READY this time around.

I was and AM delighted to be "ma-ma."

So. Thank you, my sweet, brilliant Micah - for showing me at age one that you were either gonna BEAT up the whole playground or PICK up those who fall. Six years later you are a mix between the two. There is work to do. Thank you for the preparation.

snipsnsnailsnpuppydogtails: Motherhood is Not for Faint of Heart

snipsnsnailsnpuppydogtails: Motherhood is Not for Faint of Heart: "If you are a mother, you've been there. You've felt your insides burn as your child directly disobeys, embarrasses you or simply blows you o..."

Motherhood is Not for Faint of Heart

If you are a mother, you've been there. You've felt your insides burn as your child directly disobeys, embarrasses you or simply blows you off. You've felt the anger and embarrassment of such things and have likely had to walk away to collect yourself before administering proper discipline - whatever that might be. But what if you can't walk away? What if you have two or three children, all begging for attention at the same time? What on earth do you do? Wouldn't it be great if you could just snap your fingers and freeze time for a second (or ya know 12 hours - long enough for a a restorative night of sleep?)?

When my oldest was a toddler and a preschooler and did the dreaded deed of pitching a massive fit in a public area, I simply shut off. I felt the boil on the inside, the rush of blood to my head and the clenching of my jaws. If I managed to keep my cool, I could control the situation. It would go a little something like this:

INSERT MASSIVE HYSTERICAL FIT HERE....

My reaction? I would simply shut off as I said before, pick my son up out of the shopping cart or off the playground and leave. There was no screaming or pulling of my child's arm (there's a little hold I like to call the straight jacket hold where I would turn his face away from mine so that his back was to my chest and I held him close to me by holding his arms down. May sound freaky but it prevented much flailing about and injury to us both).

I, would then, w/out much expression (for fear that my vein in my forhead would bulge and my eyes would open freakishly wide - a family trait), fight the arched back of a very wirey kid and secure him in his carseat. I would wait until there was quiet and would explain to my child what he did, why it was wrong, etc. We would go home - a natural consequence - especially if we had to leave something fun like the park. The majority of the time he understood, calmed down and peace was restored  - until the next fit:)  In short - that whole scenario SUCKED. 

I remember thinking " Will it always be like this?". Six years later the answer is yes. And no.

Motherhood was sprung on me. I was 26, working happily in my second job and recently accepted to graduate school. My husband and I lived happy lives - both doing our own things after work and connecting at night over dinner or a glass of wine. The day I received my class schedule something was off. It was August 13, 2004. I clearly remember eating my lunch at my desk and feeling totally soured after my daily dose of yogurt. Odd. I remember my giant desk calendar staring AT ME. No...wait...five, six, seven days late? Mistake. I remember thinking I would just take a test to see the word negative and be done with it. We were taking preventative measures, after all! I took the test and was surprisingly nervous. I remember this voice inside saying "Please, God, let it be positive" and then yelling at it. How dare I say that? How dare I think for a second that I WANTED that?!  Not now!!! Now I surely jinxed the test!  Five positive tests and total loss of color from my face later, my husband found me on the floor in the bathroom just staring.  We were going to be parents. I started throwing up the next day...and was ROCKED by nausea for the next 16 weeks. I was too sick to follow through with graduate school and went home immediately after work every night and crashed for two hours on the couch.

And that's just the beginning:)). What followed was a beautiful, bouncing baby boy who was colicky (ie: SCREAMING from 6-9 nightly for waht seemed like forever but was really more like 12 weeks), but then snapped out of it and became VERY verbal, agile, happy and all around WONDERFUL.

The battles today are still of the will. The difference is that now, there's another beautiful, bouncing baby on my hip (who funny enough was ALSO colicky for 12 weeks) and I feel more like my brain is going to split in two when either one, or both, flip out simultaneously. I am much more easily angered. I am much quicker to snap and lose my cool. I am - tired. I am - a mother.

Perspective is the key to staying sane. Catch me on a good day and I'm taking it all in stride. Catch me on a bad day and I just want to close both of the boys' bedroom doors - maybe throw a Cheerio or two in with them- and go hide under my covers. If I stop and listen and observe long enough I realize that I have two very small humans who NEED me. Who love me. Who can't really exist without me right now. That's when the pride of motherhood comes in. These are MY children, my babies - don't mess with them or I WILL come after you with a blunt object:).


So now, in the years before girls, before the demand for certain clothes and shoes, before my boys think I know nothing at all, I will stop. I will pray. I will be thankful for the two little hearts that need molding and spirits that need leading. I will be reviewing all of my older brother's WWF videos to see if I can finally master that sleeper hold:)

Here We Are.

Today, or tonight, rather, I am beginning what I hope will be a record of the childhoods of my sons Micah, 6, and Rowan, almost 9 months.

Where to begin? If you're a facebook follower of mine, then you have a pretty good sense of the life I live. It's a balancing act - every hour carefully carved - but one wrong move and off the tight rope we all go. Not always the best way to live, but it's how we're rolling these days.

I'm a believer. My husband is a believer. Micah is a believer...and Rowan...well, he just likes peas and cheese right now. We are Christians of the good old C.S. Lewis school. I actually haven't read all of his books but Mere Christianity is probably the best way to describe us. Love us or hate us or even just be annoyed by us, but Christianity is what shapes our hearts.

What else?

Well, I struggle a lot with my role in this family. I'm a workaholic who wants to conquer the world and yet be the most present involved mother I can be. Can't be both - at least when the work isn't solely motherhood - and daily I have to remind myself. Sometimes life does the reminding and I have nothing to do with it.
It is also daily that I am humbled by my amazing boys and the fact that God gave them to ME - a very undeserving, easily agitated, strong willed and high energy woman. Serves me right that my six year old is an easily agitated, strong willed and high energy little boy:)

Rowan is what many are lately referring to as "advanced." I prefer to say driven. He is nearly walking. I give him a month. He says ma-ma - started saying that right at 7 months and about two weeks ago started saying da-da. He squats sumo-style and then stands - squats and then stands - like he's exercising. He's building his strength for those long runs that I am working with Micah on right now. Micah is currently being evaluated for ADHD...and so regardless of whether he has it, a key to managing it is exercise. Let me tell you - it's not easy to wear out an easily agitated, strong willed and high energy six year old:)

We live in a modest home that each year grows on us - and with us - a little more. We are constantly in home repair or improvement mode and I think that has shaped Micah's love for power tools and gadgets of all kinds.

We drive a car that I sometimes wish we didn't, but then I am reminded that keeping up with the Jones' is much like tying a cement block to my ankles, jumping in the river and hoping for the best. We make wise choices - even when they aren't the most aesthetically pleasing - to ensure our children have what they need (and - ok, ok what they sometimes just want).  I also come from a family of debt free-ers, so that shapes my outlook on what I am and am not willing to spend money on. This is one trait of mine that I DO hope my kids pick up on:)

What else should I say in my very first blog about motherhood?

• I do not sew and I am proud of it.

• I break a sweat at the idea of arts and crafts or even the smell of glue.

• I am 32 and feel 18.

• I'm a serious purger. I get rid of things regularly - they have a 6 month mark. If I don't use it over 6 months, I likely don't need it. My yogi friend inspired me to keep this up. It's very therapeutic.

• I do not prepare the week's meals on Sunday afternoon (seriously, I know ppl who do that) b/c I am usually bike riding or at the beach or something ELSE with my sons. This means I am usually cooking with baby on the hip (actually he hangs from my limbs in whatever fashion he chooses) while my oldest is using the cooking utensil I need as a "scooper" outside in his new construction site (read: the brick walkway he managed to DESTROY and label "construction zone"). This also means that you should not expect recipes from me unless I happen to be REALLY onto (or on) something one day:)

• I lose perspective more often that I'd like to admit and peer at my children over my laptop more often than I should. More to this later as it's a serious heartache and soul searching thing for me.

• I am devoted to these little beings and there is absolutely nothing that absorbs my brain power more.

• I whole heartedly believe that children are gifts and it's our job to figure out how to unwrap them appropriately.

I think that's it.

Check back in soon for the low down the day's or week's crazy:)