Not Funky Just Busy

Hey, you all. So, I'm busy. How's that for a boring blogging topic? How busy I am? Yeah, well, sorry; I'm so busy I don't have time to think about anything else to write. My trip is coming up, and life has been a whirlwind lately.

A loyal reader mentioned the other day that she hoped my trip might provide a welcome kick out of my recent funk, and I just want to make clear that, aside from my kids being oppositional recently and thus causing my head to explode and me to daily pine for a local grandma to drop them off with occasionally, I'm not in a funk; I'm just super super super busy. Sorry I wasn't too clear about that. I'm insanely busy, and when I've got a lot going on PLUS my husband snores PLUS my cat harasses me at 4 a.m. PLUS one of my children is sick and therefore coughs at night, I don't get much if any sleep, which is, um....exhausting.

For some reason, everything in the whole world fell onto my schedule at the same time this autumn. In the past couple of weeks, and next week until I leave town, here's what's been filling up my calendar: a kid Halloween party; Julia's school Halloween party (for which I shopped for supplies); the children's tumbling classes; pumpkin patch visiting; pumpkin carving; our town's annual kid Fun Run; three dentist appointments; both girls' school conferences; school volunteer work; Halloween itself/trick-or-treating; cooking, delivering food, and hosting a playdate for a family down the street with a new baby (all of which was done 100% happily, I might add; it is a joy to help neighbors with a newborn); three haircut appointments; consultation work involving various client phone appointments; both girls being off school some days for various teacher conferences and workshops; school fundraisers due; kid flu shot appointments; my mother-in-law's arrival for a visit; and a pre-trip manicure appointment. There may have been a Tupperware party in there as well.

Let me tell you, attempting to fit all that into my regular daily schedule along with cooking, shopping, housekeeping, exercising, childcare, and regular bathing has been a challenge. Something had to go, and it might have been bathing. Possibly.

So let's just say I've barely even thought about my trip next week yet; I've been so busy taking care of all these other obligations--while not really sleeping--that I've yet to time my reading to make sure I can read the whole essay in under 10 minutes (or, if not, determine an appropriate excerpt). My main fear about my trip is that I will sleep so little between now and then that a.) I will be incoherent by next Wednesday night, or b.) the dark circles under my eyes will frighten the bookstore audience.

I'll try to work on that before next Wednesday. But I've got a lot to do between now and then.

Yet Another Reason to Love The First Lady

I read on Babble.com the other day that Michelle Obama was recently interviewed by Katie Couric about how she balances motherhood with work, marriage, and all the other many demands in her life. (Like, you know, being the wife of the leader of the country. Which is far more demanding and important than anything I'VE got going on, how about you?)

Apparently Mrs. Obama said that, aside from the benefits of having paid staff to help with many aspects of her daily life, the biggest factor in maintaining her sanity is prioritizing her own needs and self-care after those of her girls. Her advice to other moms? Put your children first, but make yourselves "a close second."

I love that, don't you? Not just put yourself second, but a "close" second. She's awesome.

Stumbling Block

So last week Genevieve started crying about going to preschool. Out of the blue, for three days now, she's sobbed and wailed, her little chin quivering, saying she doesn't want to go. When I ask her why, there doesn't seem to be a major reason. She says things like, "I just want to be with you, Mama!" and "I don't want you to go!" Sometimes she says, "It's too long!" or, once, "It's boring!" But mostly she hugs me and tries to convince me not to drop her off at nursery school, where her sweet and loving teacher is as puzzled as I am and gives her extra cuddles and attention to help ease the drop-off transition.

Two adult friends who know Genevieve have speculated that the novelty has worn off for her. "It's been two months; she's probably totally over it," said my hairstylist Shauna. "She's been there, seen it all--now she's all, 'Eh. I'm done with this. I want to stay home to watch "Curious George" and bake muffins with you instead.' Think about it: wouldn't you?" She has a point.

Next Wednesday I leave for two days to participate in one of the readings for the "P.S. What I Didn't Say" book tour. Both girls have school during the time I'll be away, detailed routines and schedules that I'm usually in charge of. I dislike being away from my daughters like this; I hate to travel far away from them, worried about what could happen to me (but likely won't). It doesn't help that Genevieve's begun crying every morning before school.

This kind of scenario is exactly what I feared, when I questioned whether or not to send Genevieve to preschool this year as a "young three." I didn't want her to cry about going, to beg for more home-time with me, or to not enjoy her time there. I was so relieved when the school year began and for two months straight she ran into school with joy and enthusiasm, and loved every minute. I was so glad to not have to feel guilty about letting my baby spend time away from me at such an early age and giving up a year that we could have spent in full-time home/parenting activities.

Ah, motherhood: providing continual experiences of guilt from birth until, um, forever?

Wish us luck.

Short But Sweet

New fall haircuts:

Nearly the Same Thing

Last night around dinnertime, Genevieve started begging for "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot." She kept saying it over and over, and when you imagine this, you must recall the fact that she cannot pronounce the letters "s" or "r." She knows this song from a Raffi CD, so naturally I thought she was asking me to put on the music. But she clambered over to our games-and-activities cupboard, opened the door, and pointed emphatically to the shelf, saying "Mama, Swing Low Sweet Chariot! Swing Low Sweet Chariot!"

What was she pointing to? The children's board game "Hi Ho, CHERRY-O."

Christopher and I laughed for a long, long time. Funny little Vivi.

Obligatory Halloween Photos for Grandparents & Devoted Others

It was cold here yesterday (as it often is for Halloween), so when I discovered Genevieve's old bumblebee costume in the back of the nursery closet early in the day--a puffy, fuzzy pullover the weight and thickness of a winter jacket and sporting a hood, though with no sleeves--I thought it would be a warmer option than the jack o'lantern and fairy costumes she had been considering earlier. (We have a lot of dress-up clothes, passed on from a friend with older kids, as well as a few hand-me-down costumes from cousins; nothing fancy in the least, but a few different options.) Lucky for me, Genevieve agreed.

Did I mention the tag on the bumblebee costume says 12-24 months? And that she wore it the year she was ONE? (Remember all that talk from me last summer about how Genevieve seemed too little to start preschool?)

Good thing she liked it better this Halloween than she did two years ago. Does everyone remember this?

Halloween 2007, ages 1 and 3

Two years later, though she's often surly and screaming, it's no longer when wearing a fuzzy bee costume and preparing to go procure copious amounts of candy.

Halloween 2009, ages 3 and 5

Bumblebee and fairy

And isn't Julia a precious little fairy? She was mistaken for a butterfly at many houses--I guess because she was with a bee--but she took it in stride. And, thanks to a friend's reminder that fairy dust makes winter clothing invisible, she tolerated the necessary parka, hood, and mittens that must accompany a fairy costume when you trick-or-treat in Minnesota with nary a tear. (Thanks, Laura! She TOTALLY BELIEVED IT.)

I just have to say that, walking behind my little trick-or-treaters and seeing their tiny fuzzy and beskirted bottoms toddling down the sidewalk with wings flapping and stinger bobbing, looking so unbelievably toddlerish still--honestly, they're so small and little still, they really are, especially when you see them beside mobs of rowdy grade-schoolers with light sabers and face paint--well, it made me want them to be three and five forever. They're just babies! And yet--they're already three and five.

I didn't envy our neighbor who just came home from the hospital last night with a newborn, though. Not the slightest bit. So there's that.

Hope you had a sweet, sweet Halloween! Onward, to November and my book trip and the holidays!

Born That Way

Julia's all-time favorite book, about a preschooler
mouse who worries about everything, even the playground slides
and swings ("too high; too rusty; too loose").

You really ought to read this absolutely fascinating article in the New York Times a few weeks ago about babies, brains, and inborn traits for anxiety and worry. Of course, as a psychologist, this research does not surprise me at all. But it's nice to see scientific validation for how you know you (and your firstborn daughter) were just made, no more alterable than the color of your eyes or the shape of your face.

More to Love

I can't be the only mom who loves loves loves the current/recent Target commercials--you know which ones I mean, the ads with the Minnutes song "More to Luv" in the background ("Today I woke up/And I found more, more more...") and the hip, busy moms gamely navigating the chaos of modern family life?

"Meet Lisa, Tara, Jodie, and Emily. They love Target because they can always get a bargain on their basics. But that's just the beginning of their high, high expectations...They expect their towels to take it. Their handbags to handle it. And their tighty whities to see tomorrow. And they don't mind getting checked out, as long as it's quick..."

"Lisa digs Target, where it's not an uphill battle to save on the stuff she needs. But she also expects her SoyJoy bar to kick her buttercream frosting fixation, her vitamin water to help her out-bend the chick in the yellow..."

"Alison loves Target for its low prices. And with the kids back in school, she expects it's time for a quickie face lift. Maybe a little color therapy, lunch with the ladies, and getting back to her routine...."

LOVE THEM. Target has hit a home run with these ads, people. And I've been thinking about why. What makes these commercials so incredibly appealing to moms like me is that they capture perfectly the crazy, busy, go-go lifestyle of the modern mom, and make the mainly mundane business of domestic life seem not boring and repetitive but cute, funny, and even stylish. The moms in these commercials do all the same things I do; they struggle with exercise and school clothes and crazy kids too! They juggle babies, strollers, school supply lists, laundry, jobs, diets, and potty-training toddlers, and they do it with grace and a smart little touch of mom-glamour. They pack lunches in shirtdresses and heels; they handle a million competing demands while appearing hip and content.

But not TOO hip and content; not TOO graceful and stylish; this part is key. This is the other reason I love these commercials, these moms: the exasperated exhalation at the never-ending to-do list, the errant wisp of hair sliding free of its ponytail during a nonstop parenting day, the good-natured huffing and puffing during the kids-in-school workout, the barely-making-it hike uphill with the baby stroller: who hasn't been there, fellow moms? I love how these moms feel relatable; sure, they're prettier, cuter, and more stylish than you, but not so flawless that you can't think, "I'm a hip mom like that, too. After all, I shop at Target! And I have a buttercream frosting fixation!"

Ah, Target. Making motherhood hip, stylish, and fun--and with just the right soundtrack. There's always more to love.