Thoughts on being a work-from-home mom

No mother has an easy job. That goes without saying, I suppose. Whether you are a full-time stay-at-home mom, a parent who works outside of the home full-time, or you’re one of those moms who somehow manages to stay home AND work, life as a mommy has some pretty hairy days.  I wish I could say that I’m going to sit here and compose the much-desired solution to this challenge. However, if I had the answer to that I figure I’d have a multi-million dollar book contract by this point and would no longer be blogging for an audience of 5. But I love anyone who takes a moment out of their crazy lives to read this, so I’ll share my insights anyway.  

I have been blessed with three absolutely fantastic little boys, ages 8, 6 and 1.  Yes, we went all crazy and decided to start over a while back. Best decision EVER. Anyway, I digress. Ever since I’ve had children, I’ve managed to find some sort of employment that allowed me to work part-time, often times mostly from home. When people hear this, they automatically reply with a jealous look and some sort of comment along the lines of, “wow, THAT must be nice.”  Really? You think? Yes, I love being with my children as much as I can. And yes, I love having some sort of identity outside of mommy/nag/diaper changer. However, it isn’t all roses and daydreams, people. It’s really, really hard. When I’m at work, I feel like I should be at home. And when I’m at home, I’m often busy thinking about something I’m supposed to be doing for work. And if I carve out a little time for myself, don’t even get me started on the guilt involved with that one.

Lately I figured out that this “dream” scenario has actually done quite a number on my self-esteem. I’ve unknowingly spiraled into a place where I feel like I’m a total failure in EVERY aspect of my life. I feel like my employer would like to get more from me, to see better and quicker results, and have me be more invested in the business. At home my husband feels like he’s not only low man on the totem pole, but perhaps that I somehow forgot him back at the wigwam. And my children, while thriving and amazing little creatures, would undoubtedly tell you that they’d much prefer to have a less crabby, tired and not necessarily present mommy. Thinking this way makes me feel like an epic failure. Which makes me want to drink. Or cry. Or both. Maybe later.

Anyway, lately I have come up with a few things that I hope will be solutions to this downward spiral. The first is to ask for help. My friends can probably attest to the fact that I’m fairly notorious for asking for help. I’m not super mom, and never will be. I’m the person who drives two hours out of town to meet the family accountant to do our taxes while forgetting to bring along the new baby’s social security number. Faithful Friend’s husband got to break into my house and dig around in my scary dirty office on hands and knees trying to get my safe to open so I could salvage the trip and actually get our taxes done. Yes, I need LOTS of help. And that’s OK.  I just make sure I’m stocked up on wine and thank you cards, which I readily distribute so that said Faithful Friends will still answer the phone whenever I call. Seems to be working so far.

The other thing I’m working on is to try my absolute best to be where I’m at and do what I’m doing with total focus. That isn’t always easy, mind you. Like the day that I was at the office and got a call from the nanny that our dog had ran away and wouldn’t come back to her; I felt pretty much snagged in a land of in between that had absolutely no way out. He returned (thankfully? I jest. Yes, thankfully), and all was well that ended well. But I’m going to keep working on being at work when I’m there and giving it my total focus, and then going home to be with my family when I’m done and try like heck to leave it all behind. That means that when my co-worker calls me at 7:30 in the morning to remind me of something just “while she was thinking about it,” I’ll now be letting those calls go to voicemail until the kiddos are out the door at 8:30. Life in corporate land will not end in that itty bitty hour, I’m fairly certain of it. I’ll have to say that this part is hard. My company and my peers have high expectations. That’s while I’ll remain a contract employee with no benefits yet the ability to set my own hours, thank you very much.

But most of all, I’m going to work on cutting myself some slack. No, I can’t be at every school party or event. I can’t take off and go on my kids’ overnight school camping trips. And I can’t always be the employee my intense co-workers often expect. And that’s OK. What I CAN be is a mom who loves her kids with total abandon, who makes sure that her husband feels important and valued, and who works as hard as she can to be the best darn PART-TIME contract employee this company has ever seen. 

It’s a jungle out there, mommies. Arm yourselves with a little bit of balance and self-love, and we all just might make it out together.

Facing a new year

Don't ask me why, but the thought of a new year makes me a little nervous, and honestly, a bit tired. I would say this is probably the first new year that I can think of that I didn't go into it saying, "This year will definitely be better than last!".  Perhaps that just means I had a great year this past year?  It definitely had it's few rough spots, but all in all I'd say we were very fortunate in 2011. After all, it brought us our first year with baby Pooper, and after all the drama of that pregnancy I still every day feel blessed that he's here and healthy.

I guess I think that this year is going to be one that is full of change, and change is always scary. Chances are my job situation will change, which will obviously be big. It also will be a big year for my father in law, who I adore, because he's on dialysis and awaiting a potential kidney transplant. Baby Pooper is on the cusp of turning 1, which means that he's no longer my wee baby (so now it's my turn to act like one . . . waaaahhhhh!). He's already starting to do more little kid things and less baby things, so I guess I can't fight it any longer. Poo.

Perhaps it's time to set a few New Years Resolutions:

1. I'm going to blog or write more often. Feel free not to read all of the blogs -- they're often mostly just interesting to me, I'd wager.
2. I'm not going to settle. When it comes time to make any changes professionally, I will know my worth and expect nothing less than what I deserve. And I am going to do my best not to just take a JOB, but to finally begin building my CAREER.
3. I'm going to do my very, absolute best to be a more relaxed, laid back person. Not sweat the small stuff, all that junk. I think I've made this one for quite a few years in a row, but I'm still at it, so here it is on the list yet again. Don't judge me -- no one said I had to get it done on a timeline (and if you don't like me in the meantime, no sweat. I understand. Just continue to stay away, because I can't promise when I'll be done. Bwah!)
4. I'm going to plan a GREAT trip. Not sure when we'll take it, but the planning will begin this year.

While the change ahead IS scary, I suppose I have no other choice than to face it with my head held high and my heart full of the love of all of my boys. I'm so very fortunate to have my life -- I will promise to not only remember that every day, but show those around me just how lucky I feel to have the life I have.

Here we go!

Is there such a thing as ME time for a mommy?

The other day by a twist of fate I had an Aha moment that would make even Oprah proud. Typically I have so much going on and am moving in so many different directions, that I never have any down time. You think I'm exaggerating, but seriously right now as I type this I'm catching up on Tivo'd shows, helping Numero Uno draw a Pokemon picture (and asking him to stop clearing his throat every 15 seconds -- seriously, WTH is that all about???), and trying to convince Middle Man that it's too cold outside to simply sleep in your skivvies. I'm the queen of multitasking.

The sad thing is that this queen is epic failing at all of those things that she's multitasking. The boys definitely don't get the amount of attention from me that they deserve (but seriously, show me a mom who feels like she's always doing that well, and I'll show you another queen -- the queen of denial!). On top of that I feel like I'm just barely skimming by at work and don't get the time to put in to the major project I need to work on or the other really interesting project that I think could be absolutely fascinating. I don't have the time, energy or resources to be able to volunteer in the kids' classrooms. And the house?  Let's just say if it wasn't for Blanca the Amazing House Cleaner, we'd be living in the House of Filth. I'm doing just doing enough to get by with everything. And I'm barely getting by.

I'd say that so far this blog post is a perfect example. I started out getting ready to talk about my Aha moment, and ended up talking about what a mommy failure I am.  Hmmmmm.  Anyway, Aha came when I was forced to just sit in the car with Baby Pooper while the big 'uns were in church class. Baby had not slept well the night before and his nap schedule was all wonky. I had tossed a magazine into the car and figured if anything I'd just finally catch up on the 75 magazines I have staring at me on a daily basis begging me to find out what the Spring fashions were. Spring of 2009, that is.

So there I sat. Just sat in the car and read a magazine for 30 whole blissful minutes. And at the end I realized that some of the tension in my shoulders was gone, and I could breathe just a smidge deeper. That's when I figured out that this tiny half hour of time was the first time in as long as I can remember that I was doing NOTHING. Not multi-tasking or running around or basically being my freaky self. I just sat and was me for a bit. And it felt AMAZING. It was something I swore to remember. Something I knew I could do for myself to make myself just a little less crazy, make myself a better mother, a better wife, and a better person.

The next morning I so easily almost slipped right back into my old routine. I really wanted to go to Power Yoga at the gym, but had a list of about 15,000 things to do that day. Going to the gym would suck up at least an hour and a half of my very precious day. I simply couldn't allow that, could I?  Then I stopped and remembered my recent epiphany. And although Power Yoga kicked my tail and made me sore for days, at the end I felt like I had gotten a really good massage and had taken an amazing opportunity to just BE. Even if just for an hour.

I'm not perfect. In fact, at least one week out of the month I'm the farthest thing from it. Just ask the poor testosterone-filled humans that have so share space with me during that time. But perhaps I can try to recall this little lesson every know and then and make myself at least a tiny bit calmer, happier and less-harried just by stopping and being. Even if it's just for an hour at the gym, 30 minutes in the car, or just 5 minutes while I'm nursing my last little baby (who I may decide to nurse until his 30s, just because I'm already dreading that final moment with the final baby. BOO HOO!). After all, these moments are fleeting, and I don't want to multi-task my way through it in such a way that I miss all of the fun!

"I believed in myself!"

If this story doesn't show why our school is so great, and in particular why the Adventure Education element of our school is so necessary, I don't know what does. Middleman went on his 1st grade voyage this past week. The night that he returned from the trip he had his first flag football scrimmage. The poor kiddo hadn't yet even gotten to attend a practice because we got him signed up late, but he went anyway just to see what it was all about. When he came home he was over the moon because he almost got a touchdown (apparently his flag was pulled on the 1 yard line!). He said, "Mom, I almost scored a touchdown because I believed in myself!"  I told him that was such an important thing to do, and asked him where he had learned about that (figuring I knew the answer ;). To which he said, "At camp yesterday, I had to climb over this thing that was hard to get over, and the first time I tried it I couldn't do it because I didn't believe in myself. But then I tried again and I DID believe in myself, and I DID IT!"  His smile was absolutely endless.

Seriously -- that lesson in and of itself is worth it's weight in gold. I'm so happy for my boys that they are blessed enough to go to a school that not only teaches them how to read and write, but also helps them learn how to believe in themselves. Big puffy hearts abound!  I'm one very happy mama!

Ahhhh, and so it begins again.

Although it's already the second week of school, I'm still a bit in denial. Well, that was until today.  What happened today, you ask?  Numero Uno got his first homework assignment sent home. The simplest of all assignments, that even HE was saying was too easy for him, yet we spent more time discussing why he has to do homework than actually doing the homework itself. There were even tears. Again. That in itself brings the reality of school screaming back to me. My poor buddy just hasn't found a love for school (yet?). And yet Middle Man has been begging his 1st grade teacher for homework. And today when he finished reading his book to me, he literally said, "I LOVE HOMEWORK!". Seriously? Yes, seriously.

Thus I have to ask -- what causes one to be one way, and the other to be the total polar opposite? What can I do to help instill a love for learning in one child, and cling like the dickens to the positive outlook of the other?  The funny thing is that my brother and I were exactly the same way. He couldn't stand school -- just wasn't ever really into it. I had this freakishly nerdy LOVE for all things school related. It was so much easier for me in that way, so for that reason I feel for Numero Uno. I know he's not necessarily choosing this negative mentality, though he definitely is the only one who can change it. Or is he?

I love all of my kids for their little individual personalities. I do, however, have that motherly fear of what those strong personalities will mean for them in the future. Numero Uno may just continue to struggle with "performing" as to school expectations. Middle Man may not stop being the comedian long enough to ever be taken seriously (he is beyond funny, though). And while I'm currently not yet worried that Baby Pooper will be held back by his addiction to nursing, one must never say never ;)

One thing I CAN say for sure, all three of my boys totally ROCK. Homework tears and all.

Photo Book

Click here to view this photo book larger

Welcome, summer! Goodbye, anxiety!

Ahhhhhhh, it has begun.  The weeks that I admittedly have somewhat feared are finally here. I'm now home with THREE boys for the next 8 weeks. Yes, I fully anticipate plenty of worms, snakes, bandaids, farts, burps and boogers on the horizon. And so far I'm loving every minute of it. Well, not EVERY minute of it, but most of them.

So let's put this out there -- I'm a creature of anxiety.  No, this is not something I'm proud of in the slightest. However, as I've grown older (and wiser?) I've figured out that I'm plagued with the stuff. Normally I can take a bit of a happy pill to chill my crazy self out, but these days I'm still nursing Baby Pooper, so that's not a possibility. So instead I'm working on trying exercise and numerous attempts to have an inner dialogue in order to find some sort of Shauna Zen-like existence. Much, much easier said than done. I still occasionally panic in crowds, find myself over-analyzing numerous personal interactions (especially with friends), and worry incessantly over my kids (in particular in regards to school -- everything else is under my "control". Yeaaahh.).

Speaking of control, I'm starting to figure out that much of this anxiety is centered around exactly that. Control. Evil little monster that it is. I have none of it yet constantly seek it. Hmmmm -- sounds like my kids! Recently we found out that Middle Man didn't get the 1st grade teacher we were hoping for (she was Numero Uno's teacher, and was FABULOUS), and I obsessed about it for days. We're not talking just wishin' and a hopin' -- we're talking OBSESSED. Why did this happen? What did we do wrong? What could have been done differently? What does this mean for Middle Man?  The answer to all of these questions (and probably more!) is NOTHING. It means he has MB as a teacher and not the lovely Ms.J. Thas it! Nothing more, nothing less. He's thrilled to have many of this friends from Kindie move on with him, especially his most dear little friend LadyBug. He of course is still asking about the status of some of his *other* girlfriends as well, but we have yet to find out who they've gotten yet. My ladies man ;) Anyway, it boils down to that it seems not really be making a huge impact on his mental well being. So why did it impact me so much?

Anyway, I've got to figure out a way to not just get through the next 8 weeks, but some way to make them amazing. My boys deserve amazing, that's for sure. They are by far the most incredible little creatures on this planet (biased? Nah.), and they should have a summer to remember. And not one that's memorable because they're freaky mother obsessed about a teacher selection for 10 days straight. So I'm busy trying to build memories with them based on fun times at the pool, enjoying the library, play dates with friends, camping with more friends, hunting for snakes, spending time with the grandparents, and so on and so on.

It's going to be AMAZING (Well, I anxiously anticipate it will.)