I Am Schniggleboop

I've heard it said that there's no more precious sound in the world than to hear your child call you "Mama". 

I think that the first time I heard each of my children say it, I would have agreed with that statement.

But not so much anymore.

I think I genuinely enjoyed the first 100 times I heard each child say "Mama". But now, I think I hear it 100 times before 8am. And it's lost a bit of its charm. 

I think one problem is that it's so easy to say. Say it to yourself. 
Mama. 
You don't have to do much work to say it. In fact, you can say it 10 times in a row with little effort. Incidentally, this is part of an aphasia testing battery that I use at work. If a patient can't say "Mama" several times in a row within a short span of time, their severity rating gets worse. It's just too easy to say. 

Perhaps due to its ease in utterance, it's become a habitual first word for MeToo. 
"Mama, know what Vivian said at school today?"
"Mama, look at my milk. I drank it all!"
"Mama, I mean Daddy, look at my finger!"
"Mama, I mean Cameron, go away. You stink!"
It's a default sentence starter, even when she's not talking to me. 

So I decided that I need to chance my name to something more challenging. 

Like Schniggleboop. 

The "oo" is pronounced as in "book", not like in "poop". And if you don't pronounce it correctly, I don't have to answer to it. 

HurricaneDebbie can't say it 20 times in a row. Nor can she scream it at the dinner table while the rest of us are trying to talk. MeToo doesn't start every sentence with it. HeyMama can't say it without giggling, so there's overall less talking. 

So far, it's a win.

And when they can all pronounce it, I'll just have to find something else to replace it with.
Until then, I'll start learning an African click language. Struggling with that should keep them at bay, at least for a few days. Wish me luck.

P90X with a Toddler

So yesterday started off very badly. In fact, by 9:15am, I had admitted defeat and was headed back to bed. We were getting hit by a December Nor'easter (a cold-weather ocean storm, similar to a tropical storm but with cold rain or snow). Two cups of coffee just weren't kicking in. Everyone was grumpy. We got the big girls on the bus, and headed towards the gym. I was hoping an hour on the treadmill would turn things around. But the parking lot was full. As were the street spots anywhere near an entrance. Did I mention that it was raining sideways and cold? So I gave up. I admitted defeat, turned around, and went home. I put my overtired (and now I realize sick) toddler in her crib, laid down in the bed next to it, and we went to sleep. When we both woke up later, things were better. After a quick lunch and some tylenol for LittleDebbie, things were great. The day had turned around. But the babysitting room in the gym was scheduled to close in 20 minutes, and I still wanted to exercise. 

That's when I remembered the P90X DVDs that BestestHusband had borrowed from a coworker a while back. We still had them. And I wanted to try them out. 

I picked a workout that looked like it had some cardio and strength training in it. And I did it. And the day was completely salvaged. All was not lost, after all. I even FELT like I got a good workout, better than the one I would have gotten if I just went to the gym. Maybe I should just do the whole P90X program?

So this morning, after spending 30 minutes at the bus stop in the rain (yes, it's still raining. Send an Ark...), LittleDebbie and I came home to do P90X. I was motivated. I've been wanting to do strength training for a while, and I know myself well enough to know that I need to join a class to do it. And the classes offered when I'm usually at the gym are targeted to older ladies. Much older. Think Seniorcise. So maybe P90X is the answer to my prayers...

I did the first DVD, which targets arms and back, and then abs. And I learned a few things. I knew the part about my horrendously poor upper body strength. That's old news. And the part about my lazy core. I was aware of that, too. But there's a reason that the DVD shows 4 hard-bodies working out in a studio. Showing real people in their real homes would not be nearly as pretty:

"Show some intensity! Kick forward! Side! Back! Then other leg!"
Ok, don't kick the TV, don't kick the sofa, don't kick the kid. Move over to allow room to use the other leg.
"Stretch both arms high, and do big circles."
Ow! When did that light fixture start hanging so low?
"Take a few moments to get some water and be ready to bring the intensity!"
Crap. Where's LittleDebbie? I need to go find her...
"Run in place to keep your heart going, and be ready for legs!"
Where did all of the Christmas ornaments go? And where is LittleDebbie now? I need to go find her...
"Time for some jacks. Jumping jacks are great!"
Jumping jacks are not great after having 3 kids. I'll just cross my legs and jump in place, thankyouverymuch. Ok fine, I'll wave my arms around, too.
"And lunge, punch, hook! Other leg! Lunge, punch, hook!"
Lunge, oh, there's an ornament on the mat! Hey LittleDebbie, please leave my mat alone, put it down!
"30 military pushups! Here we go!"
Hey, I can barely do one pushup, even without you climbing on me. Get off my back, kid!

So I learned that I need to be more relaxed to my workout than the instructor would prefer. I don't yet have all of the equipment I need. But bungee cords from the basement meet my fitness needs for now. I need to set up the play yard for the toddler in advance. She will eventually end up in there. I no longer am interested in working out 'til I feel like puking. Exercising makes my day better. Puking does not. I'll do one only as long as it doesn't result in the other. Who am I trying to impress? The guy on the DVD? I'll stop when I feel like it. 
Doing the workout at 80% accuracy is still better than I would get at the gym. And I think I know a bit more about pelvic stability and residual diastasis than the guy in the DVD. I'll modify my abs workout as I see fit. 

Don't worry buddy, I'll still "Bring It." I'll just bring along my body that's still recovering from having 3 kids in 5 years, my 15 month old, and the limitations of a small living room in a city condo, as well.

The Year

We celebrated a huge milestone yesterday.

We've survived a full year of having 3 kids. 

In other words, Happy Birthday LittleDebbie!

So much has happened in the past year:

• I grew out of and back into my old clothes.
• I forgot was sleep was like, then was reintroduced to it again. 
• LittleDebbie transformed from a tiny bundle of preciousness to a smiley bundle of perpetual motion. And perpetual trouble. 
• I learned to keep track of 3 different bodies moving in 3 different directions at 3 different speeds. 
• I learned that I can fail at meeting my goals daily. But I still need to try again the next day. 
• I learned to translate she-said/she-said disputes into a semi-predictable "so she did this inappropriate act, and then you did that inappropriate act" format. Is this how Judge Judy got her start?
• I broke my addiction to sugar. And then rekindled it on vacation. I have a trip to rehab planned for my near future.
• I put in a lot of mileage driving a little girl to and from school. 
• I watched that little girl transform into an even bolder and brighter version of herself. And I watched her become a sensitive and doting big sister to an increasingly adoring baby sister.
• I watched our middle child become quirkier and funnier, and watched a fire ignite that pushes her to keep up with her older sister. And a sulking stubborn streak develop. 
• All three girls became stronger, taller, faster, and more capable at just about everything.
• My husband became even more adoring and doting towards our little gaggle of girls. Simultaneously, he became more adorable. And sexy. (We'll see if he actually reads my blog posts and reacts to this one...)
• I realized how much motherhood has changed me. And more recently, I realized what I want the next 6 years of motherhood to look like. 

It's been an amazing year. I can't wait to see what happens this next year! 

Achievement, Ambition, Empowerment, and Contentment

Whew, that title is full of some big ideas.

I've had a few conversations lately that have stirred my mental pot, especially around those big ideas.

At work the other day, I overheard a lunch conversation that started with this: "if you could snap your fingers and have a new career that didn't require you to start all over with school, what would you do?" Most of the women are older than me. And most couldn't imagine having a different career. Me? If I could snap my fingers to a different career? I'd run an international aid organization of some sort. I know, kinda random. I'd love to have the organization and management skills to change lives through charitable giving. Don't get me wrong. I love my career. It allows me the other things I value in life: a marriage and family. But I occasionally wonder about a life full of international travel and saving people from starvation and disease.

I was lucky to have a visit recently from a friend who moved away a while back. I'll call her Janey, to protect her identity.

We stayed up late drinking wine, and she told me about the possibility of a career turn that would involve 3 intensive years in a fast-track nurse practitioner program. It would be an amazing career move. And a physical move. It would also create insane demands on her and her family. Did I mention she has 2 young children? It sounded terrifyingly overwhelming to me.

She discussed how tedious her current job was, and the general boredom she felt in her career. The concept of her current job sounds amazing. But yes, the details of her job were a bit mundane and repetitive. Yet it's a good job, and allows her to work from home. This is handy when you have 2 young kids.

We were both the recipients of world-class educations and the encouragement to be whatever we wanted to be. We were taught that we shouldn't settle for boring jobs. We should never accept the status quo. We should feel empowered enough to reach for whatever we wanted, no matter how difficult.

But now we have kids. And mortgages. And a tenuous sanity to preserve.

So I had to ask myself:  What's the difference between settling down and just settling for something less?

And then:  What model of achievement should I be presenting for my daughters? And what should I be teaching them about ambition, and empowerment?

I'm starting to think that our focus on women's empowerment is becoming a double-edged sword.

(WARNING: If you get squeamish about medical details, are looking to avoid description of birthing, or just generally want to avoid incidents of TMI, skip down to the next part with bold font!)

I was reading a post on my local mommy group website where a mom was inquiring about hypnobirthing as a way to avoid tearing during birth. I took the hypnobirthing class. I used the philosophy to have 2 unmedicated births. I tend to think of it as a good strategy to get through birth without unnecessary medical interventions. It never occurred to me that one could PREVENT themselves from tearing during childbirth. Doesn't that kind of depend on the size of your baby and your general skin elasticity? But there are those out there that encourage women to empower themselves to have exactly the childbirth experience they want. So if you don't want to tear, you can work hard enough to find a way not to tear. Wow. That's a lot of pressure... What if you DO find a childbirth technique that promises to help you avoid tearing. But you tear a little anyway. Does that mean you're a failure? I'm content to see tearing as a possible (and likely, given my prior experiences) side-effect of the birthing process. You get a few stitches, you use witch hazel pads and a peri-care bottle for a week, and you move on. Does this mean I'm too content with the status quo? Should I feel more empowered to demand the birth I want when Little Miss makes her grand entrance in a few months? But I don't want to feel like a failure when the midwife pulls out the needle and thread...

(OK, you squeamish readers can start reading again here.)

Do the current messages in our society really help us? "You can have it all! Get your career established first. Travel the world. Then when you're financially secure in your early 40's, have kids then." And "Don't settle. You CAN have a career! And a marriage! And kids! And fun leisure time!" And so women wait so they can have it all! And then they have to struggle with infertility, because a 30 year old body bears children more easily than a 40 year old body. The realities of biology don't change because we've suddenly become more empowered. Skin stretches, and then sometimes tears. We start our lives with lots of eggs. Most of the good ones are gone by our 40's. The limitations of a 24 hour day aren't swayed by successful women encouraging us all to do more, be more, achieve more. There are only 24 hours. We really can't clone ourselves to simultaneously attend a work meeting and a preschool dance performance. 
Or maybe I'm just not empowering myself adequately...

I brought up the topic to a wonderful group of moms from my church. They're smart, they're successful, they're kind, and they're wise. They're my grounding force in the face of the questionable advice provided by society and my local online mommy group. Once a month, we share food, wine, support, conversation, and prayer. Because we know our limitations. We need each other. And we know that there are just aspects of life we need to turn over to a higher power.  But we discussed my questions. 

Not one of them thought we could "have it all". According to them, we have natural seasons in life that demand and allow our energy to be directed to different areas. We have marriage partners with whom we give-and-take to make our family work well together. Our careers are just part of the picture. We have priorities that truly are more important. Like our marriages. And our children. When you sit with a group of women that include some who have buried children, it somehow becomes perfectly reasonable to shape your life and aspirations around those of your own children. It all falls into perspective. 

Of course, perhaps our expectations would be different if we could all afford to hire out parts of our lives - childcare, shopping, cooking, cleaning... Have you ever noticed that women to talk about "having it all" seem to have their own staff? Or at least have mothers living nearby who are willing to do those things for free?

We discussed the concept of "vocation". Martin Luther (the Reformation guy, not the civil rights guy) discussed vocation as a gift from God. Both bankers and blacksmiths have the ability to serve God in their jobs. They have the task of being the best banker/blacksmith they can be, in order to help others and fully utilize the gifts that God has given them. There is no such thing as a lowly or exalted job. There is just OUR job, and we need to do it well to give glory to God. You can be a wonderful 7-11 cashier. You can be a wonderful nurse. You can be a wonderful CEO. You can be a wonderful street sweeper. They all give glory to God! 

You can be a wonderful wife and mother. These are also vocations. Think it's not important? Imagine losing your spouse or child for a moment. Yeah, they're pretty important. Imagine not being around to teach your children what love is about and to prepare them to go out into the world. Imagine your children not having a mom. Yeah, the job is pretty important. 

So I'm thankful for the perspective my friends bring. I'm thankful for not needing to live up to the expectations of society. I already have some pretty big jobs on my plate. I'll stick with those and let others battle the angst of their "empowerment." I think I'll just pray for the power to do my own jobs well.

Hope you have a great week!

The Sorority of Moms Comes Through Again

So, I'm pregnant. This isn't news. And I'm hungry. I guess this isn't surprising, either. But I'm hungry for fatty processed junk food that I don't typically feed my family or myself when I'm not pregnant. This is less than ideal. 

I used to have a box of Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls hidden in the basement. Until I ate them all. I used to have a box of chocolate Pop Tarts hidden in the center console of the CR-V. Until I ate them all. I used to have a box of Drumstick ice cream cones in the freezer that the girls were really looking forward to eating. Until I ate them all. Seriously, out of a variety pack of 8 cones, the girls each got one, BestestHusband had one, and I ate the other 5. Not all at once, of course, but over about 5 days. They just satisfied a craving that nothing else could.

So it was with shame that I was standing in the ice cream aisle of the grocery store today, trying to find the same box of Drumsticks. I had just stocked up on Turkey Hill ice cream, which is on sale right now (hoorayyyy!!!). Blue Bell will always be my favorite, of course, but you can't get it in Boston. I'll just have to eat my fill the next time I'm in Texas. So a sale on Turkey Hill makes me stock up. Oh, and also in my cart was a giant bag of peanut M&Ms. Yeah, that cart was a winner. It was a glaring testament to my junk food excesses. 

But the Sorority of Moms came to my rescue. As I was searching for the right box of Drumsticks, a woman interrupted my pitiful search. "I just have to tell you, you're absolutely adorable." 

I know she's a mom. I didn't even have to ask. Because she gets it. And she absolutely made my day. I can buy all the ice cream I want. Because I'm pregnant and some stranger in the grocery store thinks I'm rockin' the belly. 

This is the Sorority of Moms at its best. When I'm more in control of my own body, I make my own yogurt, and my own granola, and try to serve food that doesn't come from a factory. But I don't feel in control of my body right now. I don't feel in control of much of anything these days. (Oh bladder, where art thou?) And sometimes I do feel a bit ashamed of my eating habits. And I feel tired and grumpy. And I feel stretched to my limit. And other moms know this. And sympathize. And offer unprompted words of encouragement. 

So sisters, keep the movement going forward. Offer compliments to strangers. Smile at the woman with the tantrumming toddler. Let's go out of our way to support each other. Because I can tell you that today, it made a huge difference.

Reflections on Easter, Part 2

Ok, so it's over a week after Easter. But I can still reflect on it, right?

One of the joys of reading the Bible is that I can hear the same scripture verses year after year, but hear something different in them. Last year, the Easter story impressed on me the stubborn faith of the women who first discovered the empty tomb. They were brave, and their faith was sure.

This year, I've been mulling over Mary quite a bit - Jesus' mother, Mary. Now, we're not Catholic. We do not pray to Mary. But she is an amazing woman who can teach us all a thing or two about submitting faithfully to God's will for her life. 

Easter Sunday, we heard the Easter story from the book of John. Unlike the rest of the disciples, John was present to witness the crucifixion. With him were some of the women, including Jesus' mother:
²⁵ Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.²⁶ When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her,“Woman,^[b] here is your son,” ²⁷ and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.
(John 19: 25-27, NIV)

The passage was discussed as demonstrating how Jesus thought of his followers up until the very last moment, making sure his mother would be cared for after his death. But what struck me the most was the fact that his mother was there to witness the whole crucifixion.

Most of the disciples ran in fear and avoided having to watch their dear friend suffer in such a cruel way. But not Mary. Not the other women.

I can't imagine watching my own child be tortured and put to death. What a horror. The pain must be unimaginable. My mind flinches from exploring the concept fully.

But this is a mother's love in action. 

When does a child need us the most? When they're in pain - when they're suffering. And it pains us to witness it. We'd do anything to make it go away. Thankfully, most of us only have to endure the occasional childhood sickness and regular rounds of immunizations. Not flogging. Not being nailed to a cross. But Mary was there for him until the end, when most of the others had run away.

The whole episode emphasizes the humanity, the "true man" that Jesus was. He suffered as we do, and he had family that suffered through and with him. I'm not sure I have any more profound conclusions, just a great deal of awe. And thankfulness for the gift that Christ has given us through Easter - the promise that none of us will have to suffer as he did. Even in our families' worst moments, we have the comfort and hope of eternal salvation that can ease our pain. As a mother, I take comfort in knowing that God takes care of me, just as Jesus took care of his mother.

Poor Puking Second Child...

I woke up this morning with grandiose plans. I had made lunches last night. (Pre-planning is not a given these days...) I had worked out a plan with my boss that I would go into work for a bit, then go tour the (low-on-my-choice-list) school HeyMama had gotten assigned to. It was going to be a busy and productive day. I was PREPARED! This has a way of setting me up for failure...

MeToo was up early. I heard her padding around upstairs. She woke up thirsty, and was helping herself to some water. I'm so thankful they can help themselves to necessities now, especially with baby #3 on the way. Except when they think a 7am necessity is eating the ears of their chocolate bunny... But that's a post for a different day. She came down to tell me she had spilled something. I couldn't quite understand her story. But that was ok. I was dressed. My hair was ironed. My makeup was on. I was ready to face the day, go upstairs, and remedy whatever the situation was. (Yes, our bedroom is downstairs. The rest of the house is upstairs. This is backwards from every other house I've ever lived in. But we have an actual master suite. I'm ok with it being downstairs, next to our unfinished basement, even if that sounds odd.) I carried her upstairs and into the kitchen to investigate. Nothing seemed amiss. Until I heard the sound. 

Hork... hork.... SPLAT! The glass of water she drank and some undigested carrots made their way onto the kitchen floor. I put her down, jumped back, and managed to escape the splatter zone. Poor MeToo did not. She threw up some more. Today was obviously not going to happen as planned. My day immediately re-organized itself in my mind as I wiped vomit off the floor. BestestHusband asked the question, "So, are you still going to the school tour?" Now, I'm extremely relaxed about sniffles, aches, pains, and the random preschooler medical complaints. "You'll be ok. It's time to go to school." And generally, they ARE just fine. If MeToo had puked in her bed last night, but awoken cheerful and ready to eat a big breakfast, I would have sent her to school. Bugs happen. Germs happen. She probably got it from preschool. So if she feels ok and is behaving normally, I'll send those germs back to preschool. I only work 2 days a week. Missing one of those days is kind of a big deal for me. But not with active puking. There was no way the child was going to leave the house today. I made BestestHusband take HeyMama to preschool. The puker was NOT going in the car.

Poor puking second child. Is it bad of me that my second thought was, "Whew, another day at home to catch up and recover from the last few weeks!"? Of course I feel bad that she feels bad. But it's a stomach bug. She's 3. She's healthy and hearty. She'll puke a bit, sleep a bit, watch some extra TV. The bug will eventually pass, then we'll pump her with some Gatorade and eat a BRAT diet for a day or so. She'll be fine. Chances are good that her sister will show the same symptoms tomorrow, and we'll do it all over again for her. I get some extra time at home to continue to process laundry, sweep floors, and sort clothing that needs to be moved to the basement. The last few weeks have been a hectic time of planning events at church, cooking, hosting house guests, late work nights for BestestHusband, Easter festivity planning, and general pregnancy exhaustion. The house is a disaster. I'm a disaster. Oddly enough, a puking 3 year old is not a disaster. Especially since she has mastered puking into a bucket.

I've been doing this mommy thing long enough not to feel guilty. A stomach bug is not a real cause to worry in our household. So I'm not worrying. I'm not fretting. I am taking the opportunity to get stuff done for ME. Guilt free. And cuddling my pitiful little MeToo, of course. In-between rationing her toast and banana intake. And sorting through clothes that my amazing Clothing Fairy, Jen, sent me from Texas. 

Now my only real worry is my Camelback water bottle. I'm thankful that MeToo is willing to drink water and keep herself hydrated. But does it need to be from my new water bottle? Do I try bleaching the germs off the bite valve? Or just burn it and get a new one?

I hope you all have a puke-free week!

Sorority of Moms Meeting

I left work 45 minutes late today because I believe in the sisterhood of motherhood. My job floats me between hospitals, and today was the first time I've been back at one of the sites in a few months. So today was the first time I saw Jane* since she came back from maternity leave. On my way out the door, I asked how life was, back at her full-time job with a 4 month old at home. Boy did I open a can of something...

"Is it supposed to be this hard?" The floodgates were opened, and the last 4 months just came pouring forth. I smiled, nodded, and said "yup" a lot. She joined the chorus of all of the working moms I know. "There's not enough time in the day. Daycare gets her best hours. I'm always stressed. I'm always behind. I never feel like I'm doing a good job. I love coming to work. I love my job and don't want to give it up. But this sucks. And daycare is so expensive. And nobody at work understands. And none of my friends are working with kids. Am I doing something wrong?"

I did her the favor of not sugar-coating things. I wasn't telling her anything she hasn't already noticed herself. Being a mother is a full time job. And having a career that you love outside the home is a blessing. But having both can feel like a curse.

Moms know this. That's why moms need other mom friends. So we can vent after a long day of work about how much something sucks. Society isn't so understanding of that need to vent. "You chose to have the child, right? You chose to go back to work, right? So why are you complaining? There are so many childless couples who would LOVE to be in your shoes. There are so many unemployed families who would love your job. Stop whining!"

But moms know what it means to be that candle burning at both ends. And we know the isolation it brings about. Motherhood is supposed to be so fulfilling, so wonderful, so all-consumingly joyful that all inconveniences are too petty to mention. But many of us don't feel that way. Some of us experienced failure for the first time as a new mother. Sleep deprived, oozing hormones, and feeling helpless at the hands of a colicky newborn, motherhood does not always feel like sweetness and light. To deny this is to devalue motherhood. Because it's hard. It just is.

So if you believe in the sorority of moms, find a way to support another mom this week. Take the new mom at work out to lunch. Surprise her with a mid-afternoon latte. Just stick around and listen. Or offer to help her out with something so she can go home early. She probably needs it.

*Of course her name's not Jane