Learning to Love It

I first went out on my own as a full-time freelance writer over 8 years ago. I was pushed to the brink by a soul-sucking corporate job and wanted nothing more than to be my own boss, be in charge of my own time. But the funny thing is, I would still show up to my office (which I rented with a few other self-employed people) every day at 8:30 or 9 a.m. and stay till 5 or 5:30. Regardless of whether I had 8 hours of work to do or not.

Sure, you could say I had a good work ethic, and certainly my time and effort in the beginning did pay off. But why was I still keeping the hours and the confining schedule I’d resisted so much as an employee?

Another freelancer acquaintance wondered why I didn’t take off on sunny days to go to the park or have lunch with a friend, or leave work early on Fridays just because I could. “I hope you eventually learn to enjoy the perks of self-employment,” she told me.

But I was afraid. Afraid of being labeled a slacker. Afraid of becoming a failure. Afraid of what other people would think. Afraid I’d slide down a slippery slope and find myself sitting on the couch eating Ben & Jerry’s in my bathrobe and watching reruns of “The Golden Girls” every day.

The same could be said of my transition to full-time stay-at-home mom/part-time work-at-home mom when my first child was born. (How I define myself depends on the week and my workload.) When I was a brand-new mom, I rarely allowed myself to lounge around in my PJs, watch daytime TV, or even go shopping or to the gym during the day. Everyone else was at work, I thought. And MY work was now taking care of this tiny person. I’m damn sure not going to treat this as an extended personal day. People will think I’m a slacker!

As if ANYONE would use the term “slacker” to define someone who devoted her time, energy, and breasts to her baby 24 hours a day. Nursing him around the clock, changing diapers, doing laundry, taking him to countless doctor’s appointments, CHARTING HIS BOWEL MOVEMENTS, for pete’s sake! I was working harder than I ever had in corporate America, that’s for sure. And with no lunch breaks or sick days!

It took me awhile -- 2 kids and 4 years, to be exact -- but I’ve loosened up. Some days I stay in my pajamas (or yoga pants) all day. Some days we have pancakes for lunch. I usually work while my (second) baby is napping, but if it’s been a rough day I may take a nap myself or zone out on the couch watching “Oprah.” I’ll take the kids to the mall on a Friday morning, spend my older son’s preschool time reading blogs, or have a picnic on a Tuesday simply because it’s nice out.

I’ve learned to enjoy the perks of the life I’ve chosen. I don’t worry so much about whether other people will think I’m a slacker. I wish I had TIME to be a slacker! What was the biggest adjustment to motherhood for you?

RILEYISMS:
"kidney" - the leftover loot from Halloween; apparently out of sight ISN'T out of mind

"ah-pane" - those things that fly overhead several times day; and every single plane has to be noticed and commented on

"fie" - what he calls his pacifier. Get it? Paci-FIE-r.

Is Dr. Phil Off-Base?

You know I love my O magazine. So naturally, I dove into it the minute it arrived yesterday. When I got to Dr. Phil’s column, though, this Q&A brought me up short. It hits pretty close to home:

Q: My husband and I have two sons, ages 2 and 4. When our oldest was born, we agreed that I would be the primary caregiver until our children reached school age. I am a freelance Web designer and work from home, but it’s impossible to advance my career when I’m running after two boys all day, so I’d like to return to a full-time office gig.

My husband hates the idea of our kids in daycare (I’m not crazy about it, either), and he’s upset that I want to back out of our deal. He promised to be more hands-on with the children on weekends to give me time to work, but his job is 24/7 and he’s always exhausted. Can we strike a better balance?

A: You made a deal. You can’t back out just because you’ve changed your mind. Either bear down and stick it out until your youngest reaches kindergarten, or try to renegotiate. If your husband won’t alter the terms of your agreement, be willing to keep your word – but explain that he has to keep his when it comes to weekend childcare.

Most important, optimize your circumstances within the confines of the deal. During the week, free up blocks of time for you to work at home or in a nearby coffee shop by arranging activities for the children under the supervision of trusted adults. I understand that neither of you is totally comfortable leaving the kids with others, but everything from parenting message boards to GPS tracking devices has made it easier to rest assured that your kids are safe and well looked after. Do your research, plan accordingly, and bloom where you’re planted.

# # #

Moms – WAHMs, SAHMs, and everything in between – what are your thoughts?

Personally, I found his answer a little harsh and off-base. He makes it sound like they signed a pre-nup in blood, for one thing. I have a similar “deal” with my husband, but it’s not like we hammered out a 7-page agreement and had it notarized. It’s a marriage, not a business deal.

And who says you’re not allowed to change your mind? Especially, I’d add, AFTER you get a sense of the real demands of raising two little boys. I had all kinds of preconceived notions and misconceptions and flat-out delusions about kids before I had them.

For instance, I pictured myself reading the Sunday paper and drinking coffee while my baby played quietly with wooden blocks on the floor. I certainly did NOT imagine I’d be fighting to keep my eyes open at 5:30 a.m. when the baby woke up, having run out of coffee and not had a chance to get to the store, while he shredded and chewed on the newspaper and threw blocks at my head.

Also, the “arranging activities for the children”? There’s no mention of cost, and I happen to know that every preschool activity in our area costs a minimum of $100 a session. And she’d probably have to find different activities for each kid, given the age difference. And who’s going to drive them and pick them up?

And lastly, the thing about GPS tracking devices? Huh?! Like you should install one on your kid and then go, from the coffee shop, “Oh, look, there goes my 2-y.o. running down a major thoroughfare. At least I know where he is!”? That makes no sense to me.

I’ve daydreamed about daycare, too. And I know that this is a complex issue that deserves WAY more than a 150-word answer. So I’ve got some recommended reading for you, Dr. Phil:

This is what raising a small boy is really like. You never know whether it’s going to be a good day or a bad day.

Being a full-time SAHM or part-time WAHM or whatever you want to call it is a HUGE adjustment. So much so that I wrote about my evolution as a new mom, Part I and Part II.

And THIS is what life as a WAHM is really like.

It’s not quite as simple as setting up some activities and getting GPS, now, is it?

In All Honesty...

Spoiler alert: serious post ahead. Believe me, I’d love to write a light, upbeat entry about my “Seasonal Activity Disorder” flaring up again and our Christmas tree debacle. But it would take more energy than I’ve got right now.

Besides, I took a quiz on Oprah.com that told me my true destiny is to be an “adviser” and an “equalizer.” I took that to mean I’m here to help other moms in any way I can and show people that if I can do this motherhood thing, then any idiot can.

Except sometimes I can’t.

I’ve half-joked about quitting being a (mostly) SAHM and about my ongoing quest for optimism and balance. Though some (such as my spouse) might disagree, I do try to look on the bright side of disasters and not dwell on the ugly parts of life. I’m all for honesty, but I prefer to leave the all-cards-on-the-table confessional stuff to the Dooces and Anne Lamotts of the world.

But you know, sometimes motherhood isn’t funny or light. Sometimes -- a lot of times -- it’s the hardest f@#$%?!ing thing I’ve ever done in my life. And the scariest, too, because there are 2 human beings dependent on me for survival and I can’t quit or call in sick. EVER. For the REST OF MY LIFE.

There have been plenty of days I didn’t want to get out of bed and/or I didn’t want to go to sleep at night because that would make the morning come sooner. And then I’d have to get up and do it all again. There have been plenty of days that I cried when my husband left for work.

I’m not a big believer in medication (maybe because both my epidurals failed?!) especially the mood-altering kind. I did briefly seek help from a therapist, but since I believe my current state of mind is situational, not chronic or chemical, I eventually stopped. Besides, who has time to fit one more appointment into their schedule?!

One thing that does really help me is knowing that I’m not alone. I’m lucky that I have several close friends, family members, and neighbors who keep it real and help me out whenever they can. When a friend told me she nearly got divorced following the birth of her second child, I was grateful for her honesty. When a blogger I follow confessed she’d made “The Call” to her husband one day (as in, “Get home IMMEDIATELY if you care about the safety of your children”), I thought, thank God it’s not just me.

And when my writing students share essays about miscarriage and postpartum depression I admire their bravery and think about all the people they will touch with their words. (And they do, because many students have gotten their essays published and received heartfelt responses from readers.)

So I’ll admit here that I have been having some really bad days lately. Behavior issues, sleeping issues, teething, the holidays, too much sugar, not enough exercise or help -- all the usual stuff but all at once and without a break. There was one day in particular I really thought I was going to hurt somebody. REALLY HURT THEM. So I dumped the baby in his crib with some toys and put Miles in his room with a baby gate across the door. And I walked away.

And you know what happened? Absolutely nothing.

Everybody was fine. In fact, Riley had a blast. He was probably thrilled to have his brother off his back for 30 min. And even Miles, aside from calling mournfully down the stairs every few minutes, was fine playing by himself.

I related this anecdote to the kids’ pediatrician the other day. And you know what she said? “I’m so glad you did that.” And then she went on to ask if there was any way I could get some more help. It might be tough, but I’m going to work on it. Part of me wants to pretend that I’m a perfectly competent mom and writer who juggles it all by myself with grace. After all, I know plenty of people who do. But I am not one of them. And that’s OK.

READ O’ THE WEEK: Author Claudine Wolk sent me a review copy of her perfectly titled book, “It Gets Easier! … And Other Lies We Tell New Mothers.” It’s part “Girlfriends’ Guide” and part “What to Expect” with a healthy dose of humor and practical, real-world tips.

I think Wolk really hits her stride in Ch. 10: “How Did I Get Into This Mess?”, Ch. 11: “What is a Housewife & How Did I Become One?” and Ch. 12: ”The Most Frustrating Job on the Planet.” Unlike other books that gloss over the working vs. staying home topic in a couple of paragraphs, Wolk goes deeper into the real issues.

Like coming to grips with all the chores that accompany new motherhood. And how your marriage will change. And how neither working or at-home moms have a easy choice or often any choice at all. (She points out that working moms have TWO f.t. jobs.) In fact, Wolk’s is the most thorough and respectful discussion of this topic I’ve read.

This book deserves a place on the bookshelf alongside the other titles about this life-changing, gut-wrenching journey we call motherhood.

Zoo Days and Blender Days

It’s been 3 ½ years since I said good-bye to an office, coworkers, and the guarantee of daily adult conversation to stay home and raise one, now 2, boys. On a good day, it feels like I’m getting away with something. Like playing hooky, there’s this exhilarating sense of freedom when you’re still in your PJs at 9 a.m., or at the mall or the park in the middle of the day, and everyone else you know is at work.

A couple of weeks ago, my mom came to visit for a couple days. On Monday, we got up with no plans, no agenda, and decided on a whim to take the kids to the zoo. It was an overcast October day, just chilly enough to keep the crowds away, but warm enough if you bundled up with jackets and scarves.

Miles has only been to the zoo a few times, so he skipped around taking in everything with wide-eyed excitement. We rode on a tram to the African Journey part of the zoo. I think the ride was as thrilling to him, if not more, as seeing a giraffe up close. We saw gazelles and a cheetah, ostriches and rhinos, okapis and zebras, even a baby elephant. (Sometimes I think that kids who grow up watching Diego and Animal Planet and reading “My Big Backyard” aren’t suitably impressed by all this real-life exotic wildlife in the middle of a city. To them it must seem normal. Like, “Oh, there’s a camel. And look, a squirrel!”)

Even Riley -- usually fussy, clingy baby Riley -- had a great time out in the fresh air in his stroller. My mom, who hadn’t been to a zoo in years, gamely hoisted up Miles so he could see over the railings, chased him down the pathways, and even accompanied him on a couple turns on the merry-go-round. It was as close to a perfect day as you can get.

So there are those days, and then there are the other days. The days when there are no visitors or playdates, the baby’s been up since before dawn and the toddler’s already complaining about being bored and it’s not even 10 a.m. The days when this one’s cranky, that one’s whiny, and Mom’s exhausted from getting up 3 times during the night.

The days when even going to the grocery store seems like a monumental task, and you can’t face one more trip to the library to pass the time, where you’ll inevitably have to break up squabbles and force your child to share and be quiet and maneuver everybody in and out of the germy bathroom. The days when the clock barely seems to move, and you find yourself pushing the stroller aimlessly around the neighborhood, peering into houses wondering what the hell THEY do to get through the day.

Days when you can feel yourself grinding your teeth and your back clenching up, when you say mean things to your children and think bad thoughts about your husband. Days when the freaking blender lid comes flying off, spraying pureed sweet potato and broccoli all over the kitchen, even the DOG. (People who get more than 5 hrs. sleep a night may find this funny, but trust me, to the rest of us it’s not. Not yet, anyway.)

The thing is, you never know what kind of a day it’s going to be. It could start out dreary, and then you could find yourself picnicking by a sunny pond on an unexpectedly warm fall day while your children amuse themselves for ages feeding the ducks. I guess that’s what keeps it interesting. That, and exciting challenges like figuring out how to scrub sweet potato off the ceiling.

LINKS O’ THE WEEK: Anchormommy often blogs about the adjustment to life as a SAHM. And, she makes yummy food. And Kelli from “Writing the Waves of Motherhood” seems to have such a positive attitude all the time. She is always doing fun & spontaneous things with her kids. Just read this post.