Cat's in the Cradle and the Silver Spoon

You know the song, "Cat's in the Cradle" song, right? It's about the fact if we don't live for today and savor each moment with our kids, they'll grow up to be just busy replicas of ourselves.

I thought when I became a SAHM that I wouldn't have this problem because I'd always be with them. What would I possibly be missing, right? Those chuckling know that sometimes it's hardest for those of us always with them to truly be WITH them...to be present and mindful of making meaningful memories.

As I try to juggle the housework, shopping, cooking, cleaning, and chauffering, I've been guilty of not being PRESENT enough lately. Twice while shopping the last week, I've heard this song, "Cat's in the Cradle." The second time I heard it, it really made me stop and think.

So tonight after the dishes were done, I started to put the laundry away. Instead, I went outside with the kids. I took all three down to the empty lot and played a game of baseball. Even the two year old tried to hit the ball. The boys had some great hits and loved running "the bases" as I "floundered after them." They must think I'm very clumsy because they never got out! Imagine that. But their gleaming faces were worth every second.

When we came in my DS asked, "Mom, can we play baseball again tomorrow? That was SO much fun!" "You bet!" I promised. The irony in this is that we haven't played a casual game of baseball in months because we've been so busy with league games. Now that the season is over, it's like we can finally have fun.

Anyone else have similar stories?

Mother's Day

I meant to post this last night but got distracted. I wrote this two years ago and thought you all might enjoy it. I'll write about my Mother's Day today a little later.

Mother’s Day

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. Today I find myself pondering what the perfect Mother’s Day would be. If I just respond, “Whatever,” to the question, “What would you like for Mother’s Day?” that is exactly what I will get. My husband Bob is great with specific instructions and big hints; spontaneous altruistic shows of affection are not his strong suit. And since my kids are still preschoolers, consider this my wish list.

I’ll start with what I don’t want: to plan dinner, prepare any sort of meal, load or unload the dishwasher, wipe down tables and counters, cook special food for kids because they won’t eat what we eat, wash or fold laundry, dust, vacuum…any form of cooking or cleaning really. I don’t want to pick up or organize toys into their rightful bins; I don’t want to put clothes back into drawers after my four-year-old Bobby has recklessly tossed them in the air. I don’t want to set foot in a grocery store or run a single errand because “I’m in the neighborhood.”

I don’t want to search for socks or shoes for four individuals, when they should be in the same place I’ve designated for the past year. I don’t want to hunt for at least three pacifiers before we go out in public, assuming my 20-month-old Devin will lose that number in a two-hour period. I don’t want to address the rude know-it-all comments from well-meaning strangers that my child is too old to have a pacifier. Back off, lady!

I don’t want to do anything responsible: apply sunscreen, wear a hat, take a vitamin, drink at least eight ounces of water, or count a single calorie. I don’t want to be prepared: Devin needs a fresh diaper? The kids want a snack? Bobby needs a change of clothes? Too bad; I left the diaper bag at home. I don’t want to complete any task remotely disgusting: changing diapers, taking out the trash, or finding the root of that funky smell in the car. I don’t want to do anything that requires money, especially paying bills, because the last time I checked, my wallet had $1.72.

I don’t want to utter the phrases, “Get off your brother,” “Leave the dog alone,” “Not in the mouth,” or “No more screaming!” at the top of my lungs. I don’t want to be the chauffer, cook, maid, or referee. In a nutshell…I want a break from my daily life of stay-at-home mom.

What I do want is quite simple: peace and quiet, to just relax for once. I want to take a walk along a nature trail so that I can be alone with my thoughts. I want to sit on the dock by the lake at sunset to take in the serenity that passes me by every day. I want to drink half a bottle of red wine and eat a delectable dinner, followed by something chocolate, of course. Most of all, I want to just “be.” No to-do lists. No mommy responsibilities. Is that so much to ask?

The next morning I am awakened at the late hour of 9:00am by sweet voices chiming, “Happy Mother’s Day,” as they carry in a bountiful feast. A tray holds a stack of pancakes decorated with strawberries in a lovely star pattern. Additional fruit and warm syrup are in their own containers, and coffee just how I like it is set next to me. Memories of all those breakfasts in bed we had with my mother on her special day come flooding back. In between gobbling down bites quickly and kids climbing over me, I smile at the start of our family’s tradition.

When I finish breakfast, Bob whisks the tray to the kitchen while I shower and get ready for church. The sound of the vacuum cleaner running in someone else’s hands is sweet music indeed. For once I take my time with my morning ritual, savoring each step that makes me feel more beautiful. I pick out a blouse in my favorite color red and a skirt, which I hardly ever wear. I’m actually feeling pretty.

At church Bob takes on the duties of caring for Devin who falls asleep for the first half of the service and fidgets the second half. I can listen to the sermon for once. The priest prays for extra patience and wisdom for all of us caring for young children; yes, we need it. After the service, Bob watches the kids while I chat with some friends. I manage to have two real conversations without being interrupted by, “No, only one cookie” and “Just a minute!”

Since it’s a very windy day, our neighbors are flying a kite when we return. How fun to watch a meadow of kids chasing a darting dragon. When the boys begin to get fussy, Bob recruits them as helpers building the new playground. I’m free to just write. He tends to feeding and changing the kids while I settle in for a mid-afternoon nap, not because I’m especially tired, but because I can.

When I awake, the electricity has gone out with the storm, along with any plans of a nature walk or sunset viewing. Bob scrambles to feed dinner to two kids who only eat warm meals. Without electricity, their choices are cheese sticks and PB&J. Oh wait--we have no bread! I resist racing in with solutions and read the paper instead. He borrows a few slices next door and takes Devin to bed early.

Tucking Bobby in, I read two of his favorite books, which he has memorized now, but it pleases me to see him following each word with his finger and “reading.” Before long, he will be reading on his own, and I’ll know my influence will have been a big part of that development. I kiss him good night and “I love you’s” are exchanged. I come down to a delicious meal prepared on the grill and a candlelight dinner with my husband. No electricity has its perks. We toast to the perfect Mother’s Day.

The next morning I am awakened at 6:45am by Devin, who is running around carrying a poopy diaper. In the process, he smears a portion on our nice clean sheets. I’m awake now! By 9:30am, I’ve run two loads of laundry (of course, the sheets); fed, changed, and clothed the kids; unloaded and loaded the dishwasher; vacuumed up bits of cereal from the couch; taken out trash; sorted recycling; and packed a picnic lunch. In a way, it’s back to the grindstone, but today I have a fresh perspective on why I’ve chosen this lifestyle.

For Mother’s Day, I thought I wanted a day off from my kids but what I really needed was a vacation from the work of childcare. Without the demands of cooking and cleaning, I was free to enjoy those magical moments with my children I easily miss. And I was able to recharge and focus on my needs as a woman. My goal now is to make every day Mother’s Day by intentionally celebrating butterflies and making time for bubble baths.

It Isn't Pretty

I am currently fresh out of the shower, skin moisturized, legs shaved, and wearing clean clothes. I smell good and feel like a new person, but trust me, this is the end of a long and sordid story that isn't pretty.

My saga begins at 11:49pm last night with Brooke crying. When I pick her up, she feels warm. More fever?! She's already on a second round of antibiotics. The fever feels too high to blame on teething. Hoping a little nursing, Tylenol, and a parent's favorite friend in the middle of the night--a pacifyer--will settle her down, I calmly sooth her.

Ten minutes later, "Waaahhh!!!" She comes into our bed. She settles down. Twelve minutes later, "Waaahhh!!" Plug the paci. Fifteen minutes later (ok, I'm making up these times, I'm so bleary eyed with the tease of real sleep I can't even see the clock), "Waaahhh!!" An hour into the banter, she's still warm. I decide to give my pitiful child half a dose of Motrin. "Please let her settle down and find relief," I pray, for partly selfish reasons. She does but an hour later she erupts again and Bob heads to the guest room to sleep. I feel guilty I hadn't made the bed yet since our last guests left. He improvises.

When Brooke and I emerge in the morning, I'm exhausted but she has no temperature. That's good. Unfortunately, I don't have time to shower and I'd forgotten to wash my favorite jeans yesterday. I throw them on for the third day--maybe the fourth, I don't know--scrape off dried play doh sticking to the calves, and don at least a clean shirt. I have just enough time to put on make-up or change Brooke's diaper and clothes; she wins out. I then race out the door to meet a fellow mom blogger for the first time. I'd planned to wear something trendy and bold, but with the sleeting rain, I fall back to my favorite zip-up fleece.

Heather Robinson of The Mommyhood is a pleasure. As a mom of two young kids, she understands my bringing Brooke along. I ply Brooke with bagel and graham crackers as we chat for an hour and a half. I try to wipe her snotty nose running like a faucet without missing a beat, but it's not long before I run out of the scratchy napkins supplied by the restaurant. Heather helps by offering her travel Kleenex. I'm thankful but the thought, "This is my third kid; shouldn't I be super prepared by now? Guess not" races through my head.

When Brooke has nearly begun picking food off the floor, I decide it's time to go. Where's my hand sanitizer? Must have fallen out of my bag. Two minutes into the car ride, I look back to see Brooke throwing up. Fearing the worst that my child will asphyxiate on her own vomit strapped in her car seat, I pull over as fast as possible. I hop out, wipe off the vomit with one of Devin's shirts in the diaper bags (do I have no spit rags anymore?), and think, "What now?"

Perhaps my former self (the one before birthing three kids and the one who got 8-10 hours of uninterrupted sleep a night) would have taken this as a cue that my poor sick baby has had enough; time to head home. If only I were my former self. Instead, I realize I'm parked right in front of the wine store. Hey, we ran out of wine last night. I could just run in really quickly. It would be a shame to waste this trip when I'm RIGHT HERE! And do I really want to face the end of THIS day without it?

So yes, I sling Brooke on my hip and head in to buy alcohol. And if you thought my saving money ended here, you'd be wrong. Though they don't take coupons, they often have sales. And if you're willing to buy a case, you'll save 10-15%. Today I save nearly $20.

At this point, do you think I got in my car, thankful that I've eeked out one errand with a sick toddler? I wish I could say yes. Maybe it's the lure of fresh organic pizza or the determination to not loose out on a good deal, but I can't help myself running next door to Earthfare. Today is the last day for the free pizza deal, saving me $7.16. I'll just run in, I promise.

Brooke willingly lets me strap her in and hardly makes a peep as I just look over here, and pick up just one more item there, and oh, while I'm here, I might as well....Before I know it, she's drifting, in dire need of a nap. I am the worst mommy in the world. I race to check out and hurry her to the car.

As I'm strapping her in, I smell it: ugh, a poopy diaper now?! I can't let her nap what could be two hours in a poopy diaper. I'm guessing the liquor store is not equipped with a changing table; so I'll just do it here in the van. She's tired, she feels crappy, and now I'm exposing her bare bum to 33 degree temperatures and sleeting rain. If she had a choice, I'm guessing she'd pick another mother about now.

To make matters even worse, yes it's possible, I haven't visited a bathroom in hours and I REALLY HAVE TO GO! I'm trying to ignore the sensations but the absurdity of all that has transpired the past 12 hours makes me erupt in laughter, which of course makes me pee myself a little. Guess it's time to wash those jeans!

At this point, yes, I finally head home to savor a much needed hot steaming shower. All the grotesque aspects of motherhood--fever, incessant night crying, snot, pee, poop, and vomit--all rolled into one day not even half over makes me question if I'm in the right profession. Surely someone else would be better at handling this sort of thing than I! But then I think: With the hugs, giggles, and cuddles comes the sticky, stinky, and draining. Welcome to motherhood territory. It ain't always pretty.