Mama in Wonderland

Merry Christmas 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 11:48:00 +0000

Here's hoping that all of your Christmas wishes come true, whether they involve gingerbread:

or wearing your Halloween costume in December:

Love to each and every one of my faithful readers. Merry Christmas!

Holiday Hustle and Bustle

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 13:02:00 +0000

I know I'm supposed to write here, but in all honesty I don't have that much to say. I mean, there's tons to say, I guess--last week was Julia's kindergarten "Winter Sing" at elementary school, which was indescribably sweet; we're at the beginning of Christmas vacation and are busy with sledding and snow forts and grocery shopping for Christmas dinner and baking shortbread cookies shaped like stars; Julia's being tested for hypothyroidism, which would explain a million things about her and would be good in that way but it is always sad to see one's child diagnosed with a chronic medical condition (and we've had several in our family already); Genevieve and her scrappy, hilarious, surly, ill-sleeping self---well, the list goes on and on.

But other than the occasional health/wellness column I'm producing for our town's newspaper, I'm not really feeling the writing bug these days. (Lori, I'm also not doing a thing with the book proposal, by the way. But after the holidays I plan to.) I think I'm too preoccupied with the good (Christmas fun!) and the bad (money concerns!) to have any mental energy left for writing. I hope you'll forgive me for that, and stick with me. For the most part, the girls and I are having a ton of fun--baking ever more Christmas cookies to a holiday music soundtrack, doing holiday arts and crafts and inviting little friends over to play, going to holiday playdates and teas and family parties--so don't worry about us. I'm sure I'll have something to say eventually.

Silent Night

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 14:22:00 +0000

So this morning while listening to a downloaded (not by me) mix of CD music, I suddenly realized that the version of "Silent Night" the girls and I have been listening to obsessively this week is by Sarah MacLachlan, not Shawn Colvin as I told you earlier. Which is kind of funny because, although I love both singers, I do know their distinctive voices. Sorry to have steered you wrong. Have a listen. GORGEOUS.

Crankypants

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Wed, 16 Dec 2009 11:30:00 +0000

Genevieve totally needed these pants when she was a baby. Too bad I didn't know about them then, and also that they are CRAZY EXPENSIVE SERIOUSLY WHO HAS THIS KIND OF MONEY? Also too bad that they don't come in size 3T, because she still needs these pants most of the time.

Oh, wait a minute. Anonymous? I STILL LOVE HER EVEN THOUGH SHE'S A SURLY BIRD 90% OF THE TIME AND ANY NORMAL PERSON WOULD HAVE TAKEN TO DRINK ABOUT 2-1/2 YEARS AGO. Did you get that? I can make jokes at my toddler's expense, and it can still be in a loving, good-natured way, and I can even snuggle and kiss her as I think and write these things. I actually love her! And she knows it! And yet, I make jokes like this. Mind-boggling, isn't it?! But true.

In other news, I found out today that my husband's second job is ending again this month, until next summer. Surely you remember last winter, when I stayed awake most nights brainstorming ways to save on cleaning supplies and Kleenex? Also that one month when I couldn't afford to buy milk, Genevieve's prescription refills, AND school snack during the same week? That was fun. Yes, so it seems we'll be reliving that little adventure again during the first half of 2010! FANTASTIC. I can hardly wait to not be able to afford my family's basic living expenses, and to beg my daughters' grandparents for a check to cover milk and medicine! (It was especially interesting that one time one of them refused.)

Despite all this, the girls and I are having Christmasy fun, and trying to focus on the festive tasks at hand. Today we made cookies decorated with red and green sugar, and now my kitchen is covered in sprinkles.

It's totally worth the mess. We've also been chain-listening to Shawn Colvin's version of "Silent Night" (you'd have to be dead inside not to love it), excitedly awaiting Julia's kindergarten class's "Winter Sing" on Thursday morning, and planning scads of playdates and sledding afternoons for Christmas vacation. I can hardly wait. January--and empty pockets--will come soon enough.

Note to Anonymous

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Sun, 13 Dec 2009 23:50:00 +0000

To the anonymous commenter who left the remark (which I chose to disallow) basically calling me a bad parent for my post below: You obviously neither understand my sense of humor nor do you seem to have the sensibility required to read a "mommy-blog," so you probably should not visit here again. You are not likely to ever get one of your comments published here, and you clearly don't understand what it's like to parent a tantrummy three-year-old. Anyone who knows me knows that I work really hard every single day to be a good parent to two extremely high-maintenance (each in her own way) daughters, including one exceedingly willful and surly toddler, and that if I didn't joke about it now and then, I'd probably be unable to perform the job of all-day, full-time, no-outside-help, stay-at-home mom. I've got many deficits as a mama, but a lack of love and compassion is not one of them. I do my very best, which--because your mean-spirited comment says a lot about you--I can only assume is a heck of a lot better than yours.

Anyone who reacts with self-righteous criticism to a harried mom's use of sarcasm and humor to manage the stress and strain of full-time mothering MAKES ME SICK. So therefore? You can just go ahead and bite me.

She Spent Yesterday Eating Pancakes and Candy Canes, How Hard Can it Really Be?

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Sun, 13 Dec 2009 14:43:00 +0000

She's happy in this picture but those moments are rare.

Random quote during yet another morning festival of tears at our house:

Genevieve: I CRYING BECAUSE IT'S HARD TO BE THREE!

Does Santa Deliver Sleep Medication?

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 12:38:00 +0000

I'm off this morning to help Julia's class of kindergartners make gingerbread houses. You can say a prayer for me if you like. What do you get when you mix 22 five-year-olds with gingerbread walls, icing, and copious amounts of candy decorations? I'll let you know when I find out. I'm hoping the answer isn't "Behavior that would give Santa pause."

Speaking of behavior that would give Santa pause, we haven't talked about Genevieve and sleep for quite a long time. I suppose maybe you were assuming that's because the issue is all wrapped up. Oh, but you'd be so wrong! Don't worry, I'm not going to bore you now with stories of needed naps, bedtime tantrums, and the strange toddler math involving too little sleep and that weird wired state that keeps them up until all hours even though they're exhausted. That's always nice.
Before you kindly steer me toward all the sleep books and sleep experts and sleep studies, please know that I have all that stuff practically memorized. Believe me on this one. I do know what I'm supposed to do with my toddler regarding sleep. She just refuses to comply even when I follow all the rules.

Well then! In other news, my folks arrive today for a mid-holidays visit, which shall include a preschool pancake breakfast with Santa, our town's youth choirs' Christmas concert, a drive around town to see all the lights, and no doubt a good deal of treat-eating, sledding, and cocoa-drinking. Because it is Christmas, after all.

But seriously? Wish me luck with the kindergartners and the gingerbread houses. Gulp.

Winter Layer

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 14:04:00 +0000

We made the fudge! Oh Lordy, did we ever make the fudge. Tell me people, what made me think that making fudge with a three-year-old and a five-year-old was a good idea? I won't go into detail, other than to say this: CHOCOLATE EVERYWHERE.

Perhaps it's fudge-related, but lately I'm noticing a stubborn little layer of extra poundage insulating my midsection. If by "midsection" you mean "everywhere but my collarbone." True, my town is now blanketed in snow and gift-wrapped in sub-zero windchills, but I'm not a hibernating grizzly; I don't need extra fat stores to stay warm.

In truth, I've gained seven pounds in the past year or so, and I've been analyzing possible explanations for this annoyance. Am I snacking too much? Well, I snack a lot, and yes, I have become accustomed to a humming-furnace metabolism in recent years, the kind that burns it all off, but I'm not eating any more now than I was a year ago. Exercising a lot less? No. Sure, I skip a fair number of workouts, but I always have, and in between those missed sessions I tend to make up for lost time by doing things like going for four-mile runs in shin-deep snow and completing the entire 30 Day Shred just to say I can. Is it because I'm almost forty? Is it just aging, plain and simple? Well, while this could very possibly be true, it's so depressing that I reject it as an explanation.

Instead, I've decided that my nuisance weight gain is because I am now firmly settled into the stage of mothering life wherein no one is being carried, pretty much ever, in my arms anymore. My daughters are three and five; they walk on their own two feet, and climb the stairs by themselves. For years there, I was carrying, lifting, or pushing a child pretty much constantly all day long, but now? No more constant 25-lb. weight on my hip. No more built-in continual resistance training. No more lifting, hoisting, carrying, toting. Now that my daughters are no longer babies, I must be missing out on hundreds of burned calories every day, people. Maybe thousands. Not to mention the fact that my all-day mothering job is markedly more sedentary in general than it was a year or more ago. I used to sit down only during stories and naptime; now it's possible to sit down at all the other times, too. Like during lunch, for example. When getting ready to go outside, I can say things like, "Run upstairs and grab yourself a pair of socks" or "You can get it yourself; your legs work just as well as mine," and then remain stationary while their bodies burn the calories, not mine.

Bummer. Before becoming a mom, I always assumed that pregnancy and new motherhood would fatten my figure; instead, it was the early years that burned everything off and kept me thin. Who knew that it would be preschoolerhood and beyond that would mark the biggest change?

Or maybe it's just getting old.

But if you think I'm giving up eggnog and fudge this holiday season, you're crazy. After all, I have the whole rest of my girls' self-ambulatory childhoods to lose the seven pounds, right? And don't go thinking I'm going to have another baby just to get my former metabolism back. I'm not that desperate to be thin.

First Snowstorm

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 15:36:00 +0000

Yesterday morning it started to snow. The predicted storm was on its way. By late afternoon, there was more than enough on the ground to go out and play in it, so the girls and I bundled up and headed out into the backyard for an hour. It was fairly warm (20 degrees or so), and the snow was fluffy and powdery, so we had a good time tromping around, making snow angels, and digging with sand shovels. Then we came inside so I could cook dinner. The girls busied themselves hiding in the cupboards. Yes, I do find it hilarious that my 5-1/2 year old can fit in the kitchen cupboard.

After dinner, I decided to be an insane person and go for my usual Tuesday run. In the snowstorm. Why not? It was warm (to a Minnesotan), the neighborhood was glowing white, and everything looked beautiful outside, all hushed and lit up with Christmas lights. Of course it was also dark, windy, and THE MIDDLE OF A SNOWSTORM.

It took me nearly an hour to run four miles, and it was totally outrageous and fun, except for when I turned against the north wind and was pelted in the face by icy snowflakes and actually said "Ow, my face hurts" out loud (to no one). But mostly it was great in a crazy sort of way. I live in a quiet, safe neighborhood bordering the rural countryside, so running at night--and in the snow--is often peaceful and gorgeous. I will say that I got a few strange looks though, and I'm sure my neighbors thought I was insane.

Last evening, when the girls were tucked in bed and the wind and snow were whipping in a frenzy outside and the snowplows started out and the school cancellations began, I sat on the sofa drinking hot tea and eating popcorn, recovering from my ridiculous workout, and noticed that the furnace had not clicked on in awhile. Hmmm. It sure felt cold in the house of all sudden. And that is how we ended up calling the furnace-repair company's 24-hour emergency line at 9 p.m. during the first snowstorm of the season.

Luckily, it was a quick fix, and thanks to our fireplace and an upstairs space heater, the girls didn't even wake up from the chill. We went to bed late, assured of no kindergarten for Julia today, and woke up to this:

So what are we doing today? Shoveling out our back door (Christopher), making Christmas cards, listening to Christmas music, braving the sub-zero windchill to test the snowed-in backyard, drinking hot cocoa, and--yes!--making fudge. Poor Daddy has to go to the office (albeit two hours late), but we'll save him a piece of fudge or two.

Unfortunate Update

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 15:30:00 +0000

I just dropped Genevieve off at nursery school (less than an hour after I wrote the post below). Genevieve burst into tears and sobbed her little heart out, even though her class gets to make gingerbread men, paint gingerbread-man-shaped paper, and play outside in the snow today. I guess none of that matters if Mama isn't with you.

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 13:37:00 +0000

We're getting ready for a major snowstorm where I live, the first storm of the winter and the first real snow of the season (it snowed last week, but didn't even cover the grass). The children are thrilled and excited. Because the storm is supposed to span two days and involve 6-12 inches of snow, yesterday morning Genevieve and I ran out to the store to stock up on the basic necessities. You know: ingredients to make fudge.

In other news, as soon as I wrote that post last week about Genevieve's separation anxiety, she stopped crying about going to school. To be clear, she's not exactly bounding excitedly into her nursery school classroom like she did in September, and she's utilizing the coping strategy of bringing a teddy bear along each time (a practice tolerated by her teachers but technically against policy; you can imagine why the staff might want to discourage 20 children from all bringing their "loveys" to school each day), but the tears have stopped, and Genevieve seems fairly satisfied about going. Who knows? In another week it may be different again, but for now I'm thankful for the respite from preschool angst. On Friday, though, I'm leaving her with a friend for an hour so I can go help Julia's kindergarten class make gingerbread houses--an endeavor I imagine will be either unbearably cute or frighteningly ambitious (perhaps both)--and Genevieve's already lobbying hard for that entire plan to be scrapped. I'll let you know how it goes.

In the meantime, I hope you're enjoying your own winter wonderland--whether it involves a major snowstorm, and homemade fudge, or not.

Tightening Our Belts

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Sat, 05 Dec 2009 14:16:00 +0000

It's been a tough year, financially speaking, for most Americans, and our family is no exception. Thankfully, Christopher is employed and we haven't faced home loss or any other monumental financial tragedy, but money's tight to say the least, especially making do on one income. We always keep Christmas small, but this holiday season, our family is tightening its belt even further, in the following ways:

We're using our artificial tree again, despite the fact that we'd much prefer a live tree. You can't argue with saving anywhere from $20-50 by using the tree we already have in a box in the garage.

We're cutting our holiday-card list down by 1/3 or more, sending mainly to relatives and long-lost friends who aren't blog-readers or Facebook friends and who therefore aren't in touch with us during the year. (Everyone else: please know this is no reflection on how much we love you, but merely a reflection on our checking account balance.)

We're not giving baked goods and treats to all our neighbors, co-workers, and playgroup friends this year. I love doing this--I really do--but the grocery budget doesn't lie. Ingredients are expensive.

We're--as always--limiting present-buying, recycling gifts when we can, and focusing more on holiday experiences than the number of objects under the tree. The other evening we enjoyed our town's quaint annual "Winter Walk," and I plan to take the girls ice-skating and sledding this month. We'll also be attending a preschool-benefit "Pancake Breakfast with Santa" and our town's youth choirs' Christmas concert next weekend with visiting grandparents. And, of course, there are always the drives around the neighborhood after dark to see the Christmas lights, walks in the falling snow, and singing carols at home. Experiences make better memories than toys, anyway, and they're often free.

I'm shamelessly using some of the grandparents' gift/toy money to pay for my daughters' little-kid gymnastics classes this winter. It's the one activity they do besides school, it gives them exercise when we can't get outside to play, and it challenges them in important ways. It's also hard to afford on our household income alone. Thanks, grandmas and grandpas! I promise you this experience is just as, if not more, enjoyable and important for your granddaughters than another toy.

So what about all of you? Are any of you tightening your belts this holiday season? If so, in what ways? Does it disappoint you, or are you taking it in stride?

At Least I'm No Longer Sleeping on the Floor in the Hallway Outside Her Door, People.

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 13:18:00 +0000

The other day Christopher tried--once again--to switch Genevieve's crib over into a toddler bed. The child IS 39 months old, after all. Of course, come bedtime, she cried for her "cwib," and it was back to babyhood. This was attempt #4 at the Crib-to-Toddler-Bed Transition. Of course, since Genevieve has not been a good sleeper since was one year old (see: the months of April 2008 to September 2009. Especially autumn 2008 with its 5-10 night-wakings per overnight period), it's totally not worth it to argue this point and insist on having Genevieve give up her crib. What do we care? She still wears a diaper at night and is not yet able to wake up to use the bathroom, so she doesn't need to be able to get out of bed on her own. Still, I do wonder if she's setting some kind of record for Oldest Child Still Sleeping in a Crib. It strikes me as odd, sweet, and hilarious all at the same time.

Genevieve told me once that she's going to sleep in a crib until she's "a gwowm-up," but then later she amended it to age five, and then age four. She's not coming down any further, however. Negotiations have hit a stalemate. She's holding firm.

Thank Goodness for Sisters

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 14:25:00 +0000

During a lunchtime tantrum yesterday:

Me: Genevieve, Santa is paying attention to how you are acting right now.*

Genevieve (sobbing and wailing): He can't hear me!!!!

Me: YES HE CAN. And he's thinking about whether to fill your stocking on Christmas.**

Genevieve: WWWAAAAAAAHHHHH! (scream, wail, sob, sob.)

Julia: Genevieve, even if Santa doesn't put anything in your stocking on Christmas, I will put something in it for you. I will make you a paper heart.

Genevieve (sniffling, hiccuping, wailing): Thank you, Juliaaaaa!

Me: Sigh.

*Yes, I do pull out the Santa card. Shameless, I know.
**Yes, yes, I know, cruel. But sometimes necessary.

Do A Few Projects...

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 11:27:00 +0000

Yesterday after nap Julia was playing house with her doll, a grade-school-aged stuffed cloth doll with various kid outfits and accessories. As she changed the doll's clothes, she said to me nonchalantly, "My daughter is five. She goes to kindergarten. I work half-days, you know? And on Wednesdays I come home early!" (Wednesdays are Julia's real-life "early-release days," the day of the week when all the school-kids in our town get out a half-hour early so the teachers can do professional training.)

"That sounds perfect!" I told her. "You're lucky. I know an awful lot of moms who would love to find a job like that."

"Yeah," Julia said contentedly. She busied herself with her doll for a few minutes and then paused, glancing over at me conversationally and tipping her palms upward. "I just...go to work in the morning..." And here her voice took on a casual, singsong tone: "You know, do a few projects...have a snack...and then I leave!" She sighed and smiled, and got busy preparing her doll's toys and snacks.

I was left thinking, Now there's a job I could get behind. Doesn't it sound perfect? Go in, do a few projects--this part sounds so easy and enjoyable, doesn't it? As if the projects involve glitter and glue? or a little writing project with pencil and lined paper?--have a tasty snack, and go home by lunch, even earlier on Wednesdays? Ample time to balance work and family? With PAY?

Awesome. Save me a spot at that job, will you? In about fall 2011?

Separation Anxiety (Or: Yet Another Reason for Mama to Feel Guilty)

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 13:40:00 +0000

September, preschool orientation

Genevieve is going through some major separation anxiety. Last night she begged me not to go running while Daddy put her to bed. The other weekend Christopher had to stay with her at a close friend's birthday party (I was doing the Thanksgiving grocery shopping), even though it was a drop-off party and Julia was there too and she's known this family her whole life and sees them multiple times per week. But mostly, Genevieve cries about going to preschool.

Yes, even though for the entire months of September and October--to my great joy and relief--Genevieve ran happily into her nursery school classroom with a grin and a backward wave, now for some mysterious reason she has decided she does not like being there. Or, rather, about four weeks ago she decided this, and she has been crying about it ever since. There is no discernible explanation. No one is being mean to her. Her teachers are skilled and sweet. She has good buddies in her class. Nothing has changed at home or in her routine. When asked--prompted, probed, begged for a reason--she says things like, "I miss you, Mama," or "It's too long," or "I just want to be with you." I have talked with her teacher, at parent-teacher conferences earlier this fall, and we have yet to figure it out or solve it.

You have no idea how awful this feels. Or maybe you do, if you're a mom who's gone through it. I know Genevieve stops crying once I leave (the teachers tell me), but I think she's probably pretty sad most of the time she's there, even if the tears abate. I feel heartless leaving her at school when each morning she says, "I don't want to go to weschool." It's horrifying to hug her goodbye and watch her toddler face crumple--again! Every time! And, worst of all, I wouldn't have had to send her this year at all. She's a super-young three; I debated and debated whether to do nursery school this fall or wait a year. She could have easily spent another year home with me full-time. But part of me also knew how well she knew this school from bringing Julia there the past two years, and how she told me all summer she wanted to go, and how her best friends would be there, and how Genevieve is a really hard child to parent (though her teachers can't believe it, since she's utterly silent and compliant at school) and it would likely be good for my sanity to get a short break from her each week given the fact that I don't have any alternative resources for getting a break from her the other 163 hours of the week. I was THRILLED when the first two months of school went so great. It was unbelievable! There wasn't even a second of hesitation on her part, not a moment of fear or sadness from day one. She was ready and happy to go. Until about a month ago.

And here's the thing: there's nothing I can do to change things. I can't withdraw her; I am contractually obligated to pay tuition through the year, because my tuition pays the teachers' salaries. We are committed through May. I don't have the option of taking her out. Also, I have a really hard time believing that a few hours a week of away-from-Mama socialization and care isn't a good thing for a baby who's never been left anywhere. I mean, she's with me the other trillion hours out of the week; it's only five hours she's at this small, play-based nursery school. Think of all the children who are in daycare eight or nine hours per day from infancy on, or even how many children have babysitters at their homes for a few hours per week so Mom and Dad can have date night or Mom can run errands or do some part-time work. Three years old doesn't seem all that unreasonable an age to spend a few hours a week away from a parent.

Last night I had a terrible nightmare about Genevieve. She was kidnapped, and terrible things happened to her before she was returned to us. It was definitely the worst dream I have ever had in my life; far worse than anything I might have dreamed about my own safety before I became a mom. I know it's because my brain is preoccupied with concerns about her well-being, her fear of being apart from me even for a short time--even for a 40-minute run!

But the year has to go on; even if she cries every single day and it never stops, preschool continues, the rest of this year and then next year when she's four. I could take her out of preschool this year, but I'd owe $100 a month until May, for care she would no longer be getting. Who can afford that?

I made the decision to send her to school with the best information and knowledge I had at the time, and it was good information in the beginning. I had no way to know that by November Genevieve would be in tears about school; you should have seen her pride and excitement every day back then, when she'd bound into school! You would never have guessed she'd start to cry about it later.

As if I need anything more keeping me awake at night.

Blessings

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Sat, 28 Nov 2009 00:04:00 +0000

Conversation at Thanksgiving dinner:

Me: You know, the most important thing about this day is thinking about the things you're most thankful for in life. I'm thankful for all of you, and that we're healthy, and that Daddy has a job that takes care of us and buys our home and clothes and food. What are you most thankful for?

Julia: My birthday.

Me: .....OK, that's nice. Can you think of anything else you might be thankful for?

Julia: Myself.

Me, in my head: What about THE MOTHER WHO WENT THROUGH 60 HOURS OF BACK LABOR TO GIVE BIRTH TO YOU, AND TOLERATES YOUR INSANE SOCK-CHANGING ROUTINES EACH AND EVERY DAY?! Good Lord in heaven, can we get any thankfulness for THAT?!

Ahem. I'm thankful my mysterious tailbone pain went away. Also that Julia's stomach bug only lasted a day and a half, and that though I was convinced I was catching it earlier today, I seem to be fine after all.

I'm also thankful that even slight hints of having caught your child's stomach bug give you free rein to skip any previously planned workouts for this evening and instead lie on the sofa watching cable TV while sipping ginger tea and eating pumpkin cheesecake pie. Because pie is restorative, right?

Favors, Blessings, and Pains in the...

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 12:58:00 +0000

So, Julia has a minor stomach bug. Other than a mild cold, she has not really been sick all autumn, and, sadly, this little virus chose to strike the very day we were set to host a kindergarten-friend playdate, for the very first time. Yes, I overcame my natural impulses toward social laziness and introversion, called up a mom I don't know, and invited her and her daughter over to our house to play, all because Julia talks about this little girl all the time and I kind of figured maybe I should do something about the fact that Julia has no friends from school.

Of course, that playdate has been rescheduled, and Julia is heartbroken. However, copious amounts of PBS Kids, plus Cinderella on videotape, is helping her get over her disappointment. Also the fact that a local friend, reading my complaints on Facebook, just dropped off an entire grocery bag full of games, books, finger puppets, and puzzles that her son has outgrown, for my homebound daughters' entertainment--and my sanity--today. Can you imagine? This is not even a close friend, but rather a fellow local mom, a kind acquaintance, someone who takes that adage "It takes a village...." seriously. This Thanksgiving week, I'm thankful for her and this extraordinarily kind gesture.

Overall, it's fair to say I'm very thankful for the blessings in my life. And, to be honest, I'm extremely thankful to not be going on a 300-mile road trip for Thanksgiving this year, the experience of which I find torturous given the fact that my children neither sleep in the car nor sleep well at other people's houses nor refrain from whining about being in the car from miles 3 to 300 on such road trips. GAH, ARGH, UGH, torture.

So, I'm thankful. I am. But, I volunteered at Genevieve's preschool yesterday morning and I am currently beset with frustration and weariness over her current separation anxiety and the way she cries every morning about going to nursery school. She does not like it there anymore, which is really making things difficult. I'm also weary of how she cries at the idea of going anywhere without me or Christopher (especially me), how she can't be dropped off for playdates or birthday parties anywhere even if Julia is with her, even if she's with my closest friend who has known her since the day she was born, and how the only place she wants to be is by my side or on my hip. It's not that I'm tired of her presence, but rather that I worry about how she's making her own life difficult with her sadness and anxiety. And how that makes things hard for me, too, because of course I worry about her and don't like to leave her at school if she feels sad and lonely there.

In TOTALLY unrelated, and possibly too-much-information news, I have been stricken with utterly mysterious tailbone pain. No, I have not fallen on my tailbone recently. I either have cancer of the tailbone, or I am an old decrepit lady who now develops random debilitating aches and pains without discernible cause, simply to make my life all the more interesting. Go, me. (Note: I really don't need my life to be more interesting.) Anyone with any insight into myterious sudden tailbone pain is free to enlighten me.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Also, wishing a pain-free tailbone to you all.

So How Did it Go?

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 11:43:00 +0000

Well, people, you will be happy to hear that yesterday, with its extra toddler peopling my household due to a working-mom friend's unexpected daycare snafu, went JUST FINE. I'm sure many of you are not surprised. There are some of you out there who actually have three--or more!--children in YOUR OWN FAMILIES, and you carry on as usual every single day with, presumably, minimal nervous breakdowns or stress-induced headaches. However, you are not me.

Before our little friend came over yesterday, Genevieve and I put Julia on the kindergarten bus, watched "Curious George" on PBS Kids, and then went out on a long (2 miles) stroller walk to clear our heads and ready ourselves for a long day shut inside with multiple small children (it was a wet day, unclear as to whether we'd make it outdoors to play). Just to be safe, we armed ourselves with stroller trays full of morning snacks consisting of granola and a sippy cup of water (Genevieve) and holiday-themed M&Ms (me), the better to lift our moods. It worked.

By mid-a.m., our toddler buddy arrived, and the rest of the day was a blur of toys, books, and peanut-butter sandwiches. Miraculously, the older two children actually NAPPED (in separate rooms; I set Julia up in the middle of our king-sized bed in the master suite, and put our guest to sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor of the guest room, accustomed as he is to such camp-out napping conditions at his usual daycare). Of course, Vivi stayed awake and held court over numerous stuffed animals in the nursery, reading books and singing songs at the top of her lungs, but that is to be expected. Someone has to stay up and hone her comedy skills.

As for activities, we did Play-Doh, played backyard toddler soccer and our favorite new made-up outdoor game known, uncreatively, as "Challenges" ("Challenge number one: run up and down the hill two times, jump over the red plastic bat, kick a soccer ball, and go down the slide. OK, go!"), and made handprint turkeys with paint and paper plates. All was well. Sure, by 5:30 p.m. I was ready for someone to give me a bath and put me to bed, but it wasn't nearly as tiring as I'd expected it to be.

Although I'm still not interested in having a third child.

Also, I skipped my workout yesterday.

(P.S. Today I'm volunteering at the nursery school, helping make soup with twenty toddlers. Would it be safe to say I'm generating some major good karma for myself this week, people? I think it would.)

Stay-at-Home Mom to the Rescue

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 11:33:00 +0000

I was recently overtaken by some sort of alternate personality that might be labeled something like, "Reasonable, Nice Person Who Does Favors For Others," causing me to say yes when a working-mom friend of mine with a sudden daycare crisis asked me if I could watch her four-year-old son (a friend of my daughters') for the day today. I KNOW. Me! I can barely manage my own two! And here I am taking on an extra toddler for the majority of the day. Which also guarantees that there will be no "nap/quiet time" break today. (He won't nap here, and if he's not napping, my girls definitely won't agree to sequester themselves in their beds while their buddy is up playing with toys.)

I'm a little (lot) scared.

I'll get back to you later, when I'm back to two children and my normal every-mama-for-herself state of being.

On the other hand, this must be good karma. Right?

Buzzkill.

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 23:27:00 +0000

Julia: Genevieve, when you grow up are you going to be a teacher? I am.

Genevieve: I going to be SUPERGIRL!!!!

Julia: What?!

Genevieve: I going to be SUPERGIRL!!!!

Julia (sighing): Genevieve, a person can't be a superhero!

Genevieve: Dat what I going to be!

Julia: Well. When you get older you just might change your mind about that.

What Would YOU Do With All Your Extra Time?

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 14:05:00 +0000

Now that my book trip to Chicago is over, it's time to get serious about a couple of important endeavors. No, no, no, I don't mean cutting off my questionable long hair and losing five pounds. I don't mean resolving my insomnia by developing a Tylenol PM habit. I don't mean having a third baby, going back to work, or training for a marathon. I don't even mean preparing for the holidays. (Side note: our family is neither traveling for nor having company visit for Thanksgiving. Relatedly, I have not yet purchased nor thought about a turkey or any other Thanksgiving-dinner groceries.)

No, no, I'm talking about a.) obtaining all my continuing education credits for my psychologist license, and b.) writing that book proposal. Both of which involve prodigious amounts of time.

I recently found a special deal where I can take a boatload of home-study professional psychology courses from my computer, all on sale for a limited time. If I work really hard at it, I could possibly obtain all--or nearly all--my required credits for one low price, between now and next November. But it will require me to sit in front of the laptop for hours each week reading tedious course materials and taking tests on things like "Clinical Aspects of Traumatic Brain Injury" and "Methamphetamine Addiction."

Much more exciting, I still have this book idea I'm dying to work on, plus a reference book about writing book proposals lent to me by my awesome writer friend Lori, who is patiently waiting for me to WRITE THE BOOK PROPOSAL ALREADY. (This woman is a superstar who had TWO books published during the same month earlier this year, people. TWO.)

How to find time for these things, people? My children aren't in school all day yet, and they don't nap anymore. I don't have any "free" chunks of time during the day long enough to get anything like this done. Most evenings, I try to turn out the light by 8:30 so that, given my early alarm clock, my husband's snoring, my toddler's periodic night awakening, and my subsequent insomnia, I can stand a reasonable chance of getting seven or so hours of sleep. Weekends, I'm usually trying to balance a bit of relaxation with family activities and the normal household chores.

Argh! Does it ever end, this desperate quest for "free" time for personal pursuits, professional goals, or hobbies? Are there ever enough hours in the day?

Here's how the considerations have played themselves out in my mind so far: Give up running? No. Give up watching "Glee"? No. Sleep less to stay up late and work? No. Give up writing this blog? No. Give up Facebook? Sigh.

Yeah. You get where this is going. While there are some things I'm not willing to relinquish, I suppose it's true that I "waste" an awful lot of time surfing my favorite sites online, keeping up with Facebook friends, reading Salon.com and the best mommy-blogs, skimming Babble essays and FameCrawler, checking out the latest headlines at the New York Times website. What would my life be like without all that screen time? Probably a lot less "busy" and perhaps a lot more meaningful.

Maybe I'd even get my license credits done and my book proposal written in record time. Maybe it's time for an experiment.

Book Press

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 19:59:00 +0000

Special Monday bonus: some awesome press about the anthology P.S. What I Didn't Say and the recent bookstore readings, via the Powell's Books blog! Click here to read editor Megan McMorris's take on contributors, readings, and women's friendships.

Back from Chicago, and Already Thinking Too Much

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 14:05:00 +0000

I've often wondered, since becoming a parent five years ago, if I'm a total stress-case freak for finding mothering (or, probably more accurately, full-time at-home mothering) simultaneously the best thing that's ever happened to me (because, hello: my two amazing daughters who give meaning to my life) and the hardest, most aggravating, most challenging endeavor I've ever experienced (hello: toddler who cried at bedtime for hours on end every single night for 17 months straight. AS JUST ONE EXAMPLE).

My dear friend Mnmom has frequently reminded me that there's a real reason it's so hard: that humans aren't meant, nor did we evolve, to raise our children alone in a nuclear family unit, far from extended family with generations of advice-givers, helpers, partners in parenting and running a household. And yet I always forget this fact, and ponder repeatedly why in the world I find parenting so difficult and my SAHM days such contradictory combinations of drudgery, anxiety, contentment, and joy. How can you adore being a mom AND dread every crabby-toddler morning at the same time? How can you love being at home with your children but simultaneously lose sleep (and hair) over not having enough money to pay the bills, not enough sleep to feel rested, not enough patience to be the one who does everything all day long? Sometimes I forget how, exactly, that math all adds up.

Over the weekend I read the latest issue of The Atlantic. Regular Atlantic readers will know that famous mother-writer Sandra Tsing Loh writes a regular book-review column for the magazine. She's a bit of a loose cannon--for example, she famously announced her unexpected divorce in the July/August issue, which was sort of odd and riveting at the same time--but I like her and her writing, in that sort of can't-tear-myself-away manner of car wrecks and cable-TV episodes of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. (Gah.) And this month's column is a good one: in between unsettling descriptions of her current, mid-divorce, rather homeless state, she reviews two books related to mothering, and discusses the strangely difficult state of modern motherhood, in all its Creative-Class, overly-educated, anxious, isolating glory. Or, rather, the opposite of glory; what would that be? Ingloriousness? Yes.

Ms. Tsing Loh quotes Germaine Greer's classic The Female Eunuch, in the chapter called "Family," discussing how extended, multigenerational ("stem family") households (how we were meant to live, and how we all used to live, long ago), are inherently stable in comparison to modern two-parent nuclear families, because they don't rest solely on the shoulders of just two adults, trying to juggle multiple and competing demands of daily life. And Tsing Loh identifies immediately with this idea, and goes on to write:

"Bingo. What better phrase to describe marriage among those of my own bewildered demographic slice—parents of the Creative Class? We start with the best of intentions. In her 20s, the Creative Class female carves out a cool Creative Class career, like Writer. She meets a man with an equally cool Creative Class job...In their 30s, the baby comes...

After kissing her husband goodbye, the Creative Class mother now begins to care for their baby, alone, in New York, or Los Angeles, or whatever cool city they’ve moved to. She’s isolated from her stem family—the grandma, aunts, and in-laws (who all love children!) have long been left behind in notoriously un-Creative Lompoc, Fort Lauderdale, or Ohio. She can barely maneuver the stroller down the four flights of stairs to get to Gymboree ($20 for 45 minutes, and you have to actually stay with your nine-month-old and drum). Result: the 21st-century Creative Class mom’s life is actually far worse than that of her 1950s counterpart. Her husband works as many hours (and travels more), but life is uncomfortable on his salary alone, and the isolated mom has no bingo-playing moms’ group to ease the unnatural, teeth-chattering stress of one-on-one care of her child..."

Wow, does THAT ever describe my experience parenting Julia as a newborn--my first baby, my first experience leaving a career world of offices and co-workers to stay home all day long with no one to talk to, no one to help me, no one to answer questions about what to do about all the parts of mothering I was completely unfamiliar with (read: pretty much all of them). Sure, I called my mom a lot, but she was 250 miles away, and, living in a less-than-intimate urban environment, I didn't meet my first fellow-SAHM friend until Julia was 11 months old. ELEVEN MONTHS, people. With a baby who had colic as a newborn, had zero capacity for self-soothing, and who didn't really sleep for the first seven months of her life. It was a long, desperate year--even while being a wonderful, incredible year. (Hence my confusion, above.)

Even now, with two children, five years of parenting experience under my belt, a home in a friendly, family-filled small town, and a social network of other mom friends, parenting small children remains, well, much the same: a puzzling combination of The Best Thing Ever and Things That Make Me Want to Poke My Own Eye Out With a Stick.

Is this normal? Well, perhaps not back in the "stem family" day, but now? Sandra Tsing Loh--and, before her, Germaine Greer--would say yes.

It's nice to know that you're not just a total stress-case freak. Or, at the very least, that if you are, then most other nuclear-family, isolated, full-time stay-at-home moms probably are too.

Am I right, moms? Go read your Atlantic. Then tell me what you think.

Book Reading Recap

noreply@blogger.com (Shan) — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 14:06:00 +0000

So I've got my first book reading/signing under my belt. I'm home from the Chicago book trip for P.S. What I Didn't Say, and I am SO GLAD I decided to go. I will remember it for the rest of my life, I am sure, and not just because my toddler welcomed me home with a two-hour-long raging tantrum IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT last night. Ahem. I refuse to discuss that hellishness any further. I will now pretend it did not occur, and I will also pretend that I have gotten more than nine hours of sleep total in the last three nights. Please help me out by supporting this delusion for the rest of the day. Thank you.

So anyway! Remember how my awesome BFF from Texas flew into Chicago to join me on this book reading adventure? As you might imagine, this made the whole trip about a hundred million times better, and I was in tears on the flight home missing her and touched by her amazing act of friendship. V. is a private person, not the type to blog or Twitter or Facebook or post photos of herself to the Internet, which is why I'm not writing her full name or including here the adorable picture of the two of us at the bookstore (though V., if you're reading this and it doesn't bother you, let me know). All you really need to know is that we landed within two minutes of each other; spent the next hour walking aimlessly around the giant metropolis that is O'Hare with our cell phones to our ears trying to find each other at Rental Car, saying things like, "I'm by baggage claim and there are numbers on the pillars, where are you?" and "I'm at baggage claim too, but there are no numbers on my pillars" and "OK, now I'm outside and I've just crossed 8 lanes of traffic and am standing on a median by a sign that says Rental Car Shuttles" and "I'm outside too, but there's no sign and all I see is a Hilton across four more lanes of traffic," and ultimately realized we'd landed at different terminals (who knew?) and were roughly a hundred miles from one another. I may exaggerate slightly.

In the end, we DID find one another, find a shuttle bus to the rental car lot, get a car, drive successfully into the city, check into a lovely old hotel on the Gold Coast (with a room heater that ultimately kept us up all night with its insane level of noise), eat a ridiculously large lunch at 3 p.m., pull ourselves together enough to not look like we'd been walking around O'Hare all afternoon, and drive up Lake Shore Drive seeing the sights (my old stomping grounds! my apartment from 1995-2000! my old running route!) on our way to the great bookstore hosting the reading.

At the hotel, ready to leave for the reading, Wednesday night

The Book Cellar, Lincoln Square, Chicago: the location for our event

The reading itself was awesome. It was so much fun to meet Megan, the book's talented editor, and the three other writers participating in the Chicago reading. There are some amazing writers in this book, people! If you haven't gotten your hands on a copy yet, DO IT NOW. You will not be disappointed. The essays are so diverse--some funny, some poignant, some riveting, some dramatic, some incredibly sweet--and the three ladies reading with me on Wednesday showcased some great work.

Me with lovely editor Megan McMorris and talented
writers Anna Cox, Judy Sutton Taylor, and Margaret Littman

The bookstore ended up being standing-room-only, and a good friend of mine and Christopher's, who moved to Chicago last spring, attended to support me (thanks, Lisa! It was so great to see you!). I was only a tiny bit nervous, and the subject of my essay did NOT show up to heckle me, so I basically just had a rollicking good time and tried my best to, as several wonderful friends urged before I left town, smile, soak it all in, and fully enjoy the moment. Who knows? I may never be lucky enough to do a book reading again! I wanted to appreciate it 100%.

And I did. It was wonderful. I'm so proud of this book. Please read it, buy it for your sisters, moms, and friends for Christmas, pass it around, enjoy the tales of friendship within.

There's the book! On the left!

And thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for supporting me in my first foray into book publication (especially Christopher for letting me go, V. for coming along, and Christopher's mom for helping take care of the girls while I was gone). I hope there will be more to come, but even if there aren't, I've accomplished a life-goal and experienced a personal dream.