I was thinking over the past week or so how very few people likely end the year where they thought they would. Over the course of twelve months, time and circumstance conspire to create opportunity and - if you play your cards right - you will be in the right place to take advantage of it. For some the changes will be big and nearly impossible to imagine. I doubt that on January 1, 2011, Alison Redford believed she'd end the year as Premier, without a mother to share her joy. And did Libyans or Egyptians or Syrians foresee the dramatic violence that would overtake their countries? Unlikely.
But closer to home, I think of all the families who have lost loved ones, people who have moved away from home for love or work, babies welcomed, milestones reached. I look at something as simple as the lack of hair on my crawling daughter's head last January and try to reconcile that image with the blond curls running past me. She speaks now, in sentences.
My son has grown out of his clothes. I can no longer tell him what to wear or what to think. The days of being able to push him along, both literally and figuratively, are slowly moving out of my reach. The march to his independence has begun, most recently with a short walk across the street by himself to ask his friend to come over and play. And they did, in the driveway with nets and hockey sticks. Another rite of passage reached.
As the years go by, I find I am becoming both more at peace and at war with myself. I forgive others more readily, make sure I hear the other side before I make up my mind, and am comfortable with my opinions when I express them. But I also think that it's high time that I find a sense of style and take action to make my house more adult and less varsity, with its Ikea furniture, dusty old window coverings and marks on the walls. This year I will hang pictures so that any stranger can see that a family lives here: a Mom, a Dad, a Boy, a Girl, and a Dog. They have been places. They "live" here.
We have trips planned for 2012, but no major changes. We have jobs we enjoy and like where we live (even with its dirty blinds and walls). Our family will probably lose some members and welcome others. We may reconnect with old friends and make new ones and in between all of this we will practice the art of living. All I ask is that on December 31, 2011 this home still hold a Mom, a Dad, a Boy, a Girl and a Dog.
A Family. Mine.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Moments
The best piece of advice I received when my first child was born was to "Take it all in." As the giver went on to explain, "It all goes by so fast. You need to give yourself that chance to just experience what it is you're living."
Since then, I've tried to stop and smell the roses (instead of the poopy diapers). Whether it was those quiet moments during a midnight feeding, or watching them play, I want to hold these times near.
Today we took the kids to Once Upon a Christmas at Heritage Park here in Calgary. One of the big draws is the wagon ride through the park. We waited for our turn and climbed into the wagon, found a place on the bench near the front and both Murray and I set one child on our lap. The driver encouraged us to sing Christmas carols, but I was expecting that no one would take him up on the offer. Singing in public is not something people often do, unless they're being paid a lot of money, or they've had too much to drink, or if the song is Happy Birthday.
Then the woman across from us started singing Jingle Bells, and soon all twenty or so of us on board joined in. Even Gavin started singing. When Jingle Bells was over, we sang Winter Wonderland, Frosty the Snowman, and Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. The sun was high in the sky, the air was warm for December, people were happy and it was just perfect.
I held my daughter close and took it all in. My heart was full.
Since then, I've tried to stop and smell the roses (instead of the poopy diapers). Whether it was those quiet moments during a midnight feeding, or watching them play, I want to hold these times near.
Today we took the kids to Once Upon a Christmas at Heritage Park here in Calgary. One of the big draws is the wagon ride through the park. We waited for our turn and climbed into the wagon, found a place on the bench near the front and both Murray and I set one child on our lap. The driver encouraged us to sing Christmas carols, but I was expecting that no one would take him up on the offer. Singing in public is not something people often do, unless they're being paid a lot of money, or they've had too much to drink, or if the song is Happy Birthday.
Then the woman across from us started singing Jingle Bells, and soon all twenty or so of us on board joined in. Even Gavin started singing. When Jingle Bells was over, we sang Winter Wonderland, Frosty the Snowman, and Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. The sun was high in the sky, the air was warm for December, people were happy and it was just perfect.
I held my daughter close and took it all in. My heart was full.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
'Tis the Season
Three weeks from today, my family and I will be gathered around my parents' kitchen table, enjoying a relaxing evening. There will be wine, spiced rum, lots of food, and - if past years are any indication - very little drama. The only thing is that I have twenty-one short days to get my act together.
I have some Christmas presents purchased, but there's still a lot of money to be spent. Because we aren't hosting anything at our place I don't have to worry about baking or planning a menu THANK GOD! By the end of tonight, I will have at least ordered our Christmas cards. Hopefully they will arrive here in time for me to actually send them before the holidays. Considering that I have been carrying around my dad's birthday card in my bag for the last week and still haven't managed to send it (his birthday was Nov. 27), I'm not holding my breath.
But what's been really fun this year is seeing both kids really get into the magic that defines the season. This year, they both kind of get it. (I say "kind of" because today we put up the tree and Gavin went to bed right away because "When I go to sleep Santa will come, right Mom?" Sigh.) They had fun hanging decorations and playing with the nativity set. And of course, there are the daily threats to call Santa Claus that have now morphed into the daily reminders that The Elf on the Shelf is watching everything.
Five years ago Christmas was really the culmination of the most horrible Fall I'd ever had. A failed IVF followed by random pregnancy followed by miscarriage - all within two months - was a bit much to take. I had my last doctor's appointment on Dec. 22. On Christmas Day my sister and I went to visit our uncle who was in palliative care in the hospital, dying from cancer. He passed away on New Year's Day. Of course, a year later Murray and I were expecting our first child within days and life looked a lot brighter. Still, the despair of those months is never far away and I'm grateful for that, because it means that I'm always reminding myself just how blessed we are.
I am sure that at some point between now and Christmas morning I will have a total freak out about how the number of things that need to get done far outweigh the time that there is do them in. However, every time I feel the stress coming on I hear Mia say, "Wow." when she opens up her presents from Santa or hear the excitement in Gavin's voice on Christmas morning, and I know that all of the preparations, all of the madness, is totally worth it.
I have some Christmas presents purchased, but there's still a lot of money to be spent. Because we aren't hosting anything at our place I don't have to worry about baking or planning a menu THANK GOD! By the end of tonight, I will have at least ordered our Christmas cards. Hopefully they will arrive here in time for me to actually send them before the holidays. Considering that I have been carrying around my dad's birthday card in my bag for the last week and still haven't managed to send it (his birthday was Nov. 27), I'm not holding my breath.
But what's been really fun this year is seeing both kids really get into the magic that defines the season. This year, they both kind of get it. (I say "kind of" because today we put up the tree and Gavin went to bed right away because "When I go to sleep Santa will come, right Mom?" Sigh.) They had fun hanging decorations and playing with the nativity set. And of course, there are the daily threats to call Santa Claus that have now morphed into the daily reminders that The Elf on the Shelf is watching everything.
Five years ago Christmas was really the culmination of the most horrible Fall I'd ever had. A failed IVF followed by random pregnancy followed by miscarriage - all within two months - was a bit much to take. I had my last doctor's appointment on Dec. 22. On Christmas Day my sister and I went to visit our uncle who was in palliative care in the hospital, dying from cancer. He passed away on New Year's Day. Of course, a year later Murray and I were expecting our first child within days and life looked a lot brighter. Still, the despair of those months is never far away and I'm grateful for that, because it means that I'm always reminding myself just how blessed we are.
I am sure that at some point between now and Christmas morning I will have a total freak out about how the number of things that need to get done far outweigh the time that there is do them in. However, every time I feel the stress coming on I hear Mia say, "Wow." when she opens up her presents from Santa or hear the excitement in Gavin's voice on Christmas morning, and I know that all of the preparations, all of the madness, is totally worth it.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Role Mother
I've been thinking a lot about community lately, primarily because of two things going on in my life, one at work and one at home.
At home, we've been having a major discussion about whether we renovate our house to sell or renovate it to stay. A major determining factor is how happy we are with our current neighbourhood. The more we think about our options, the more life conspires to show us how lucky we are to be living where we are. Sure, it's way out in the 'burbs, but we know (and like) our neighbours, which as today's Calgary Herald points out, is key to overall satisfaction with where you live. We live within walking distance of a major grocery store, medical clinic, pub, coffee shop, the community centre, several pathways and playgrounds and even the school. The past two nights when Murray and I went out for Halloween-related festivities we had two different babysitters, both of whom live right across the street. How's that for winning the jackpot?
So everything on the "checklist" for a good community is there. But what I'm paying more attention to now are the intangibles. Like the fact that if I'm ever in a tight spot I can call my neighbour across the street, or my neighbour next door, or the ones that live a few blocks away and any one of them will be here in minutes, ready and willing to help. It's comforting, and that feeling - more than anything - is what is makes our neighbourhood feel like Home.
At work, the Mayor's Committee on Civic Engagement just launched 3 Things for Calgary. 3 Things is designed to get individuals more involved with their communities. It's not about becoming President of the Community Association or spearheading a major fundraising drive (although one could certainly do that if they liked), but about asking ourselves a fairly simple question: How can I use my time and talents to make our city a better place? And once we have the answer ourselves, we encourage the people we know to ask themselves the same question.
So as I've been trying to determine my 3 Things, I've been looking at my community, at my neighbours, and wondering what little things I can do to contribute to neighbourhood life. I don't have time for major volunteer commitments now, but that doesn't excuse me from my responsibility to my community. It was in this context that I read about a new program called Role Mothers, that matches mothers with volunteer roles that fit within their busy schedules. From what I can gather, this is a program with a lot of potential to create an entire generation of Calgarians who will contribute to building a better city.
The name "Role Mothers" couldn't be more apt. Research has shown time and time again that family behaviours are one of the major influences on whether an individual will be involved in their community as they grow older. I know that my own parents' involvement in civic life was a major influence on me. We always talked about politics at the dinner table, and were encouraged and supported through all of our volunteer commitments. Put simply, I just haven't known that it could be any other way.
That's why it has always been very important to me to try to instill as much of that responsibility in my own kids. I know they're young, but to me that's a reason to be engaged, not an excuse to sit it out. We take our kids with us to vote and explain to them why we're doing it. When I was working on the mayoral campaign last fall, we would go on road trips around the NW Calgary delivering lawn signs, and Gavin even "helped" to put them in the ground. Last week, both kids helped fill a bag of non-perishables from our pantry to donate to the food bank and this afternoon Gavin went with Murray to drop off some baby items to a young mom who could use some help.
I'm not saying any of this to toot my own horn. I want to show how easy it is to get involved with your kids. It's never to early for them to realize that they are part of a wider community, and to develop a sense of responsibility to the world around them. Together, we can all create communities that we'll never want to leave.
At home, we've been having a major discussion about whether we renovate our house to sell or renovate it to stay. A major determining factor is how happy we are with our current neighbourhood. The more we think about our options, the more life conspires to show us how lucky we are to be living where we are. Sure, it's way out in the 'burbs, but we know (and like) our neighbours, which as today's Calgary Herald points out, is key to overall satisfaction with where you live. We live within walking distance of a major grocery store, medical clinic, pub, coffee shop, the community centre, several pathways and playgrounds and even the school. The past two nights when Murray and I went out for Halloween-related festivities we had two different babysitters, both of whom live right across the street. How's that for winning the jackpot?
So everything on the "checklist" for a good community is there. But what I'm paying more attention to now are the intangibles. Like the fact that if I'm ever in a tight spot I can call my neighbour across the street, or my neighbour next door, or the ones that live a few blocks away and any one of them will be here in minutes, ready and willing to help. It's comforting, and that feeling - more than anything - is what is makes our neighbourhood feel like Home.
At work, the Mayor's Committee on Civic Engagement just launched 3 Things for Calgary. 3 Things is designed to get individuals more involved with their communities. It's not about becoming President of the Community Association or spearheading a major fundraising drive (although one could certainly do that if they liked), but about asking ourselves a fairly simple question: How can I use my time and talents to make our city a better place? And once we have the answer ourselves, we encourage the people we know to ask themselves the same question.
So as I've been trying to determine my 3 Things, I've been looking at my community, at my neighbours, and wondering what little things I can do to contribute to neighbourhood life. I don't have time for major volunteer commitments now, but that doesn't excuse me from my responsibility to my community. It was in this context that I read about a new program called Role Mothers, that matches mothers with volunteer roles that fit within their busy schedules. From what I can gather, this is a program with a lot of potential to create an entire generation of Calgarians who will contribute to building a better city.
The name "Role Mothers" couldn't be more apt. Research has shown time and time again that family behaviours are one of the major influences on whether an individual will be involved in their community as they grow older. I know that my own parents' involvement in civic life was a major influence on me. We always talked about politics at the dinner table, and were encouraged and supported through all of our volunteer commitments. Put simply, I just haven't known that it could be any other way.
That's why it has always been very important to me to try to instill as much of that responsibility in my own kids. I know they're young, but to me that's a reason to be engaged, not an excuse to sit it out. We take our kids with us to vote and explain to them why we're doing it. When I was working on the mayoral campaign last fall, we would go on road trips around the NW Calgary delivering lawn signs, and Gavin even "helped" to put them in the ground. Last week, both kids helped fill a bag of non-perishables from our pantry to donate to the food bank and this afternoon Gavin went with Murray to drop off some baby items to a young mom who could use some help.
I'm not saying any of this to toot my own horn. I want to show how easy it is to get involved with your kids. It's never to early for them to realize that they are part of a wider community, and to develop a sense of responsibility to the world around them. Together, we can all create communities that we'll never want to leave.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
It Gets Better...Doesn't It?
On Sunday afternoon we took the kids to a local playground. The sun was shining, the air was crisp; a perfect Fall day.
The weather brought out lots of other families and the playground was busy. There were a few other boys around my son's age - maybe a little older - and, being a pretty social kid, Gavin tried to join in with their game. The group obviously knew each other and weren't quite sure what Gavin was up to. They started mocking him, "Stop copying us! Dude, stop copying. Leave us alone. Dude."
Poor Gavin. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he got the message. "Mom, those boys don't want to play with me!" It still hurts my heart to hear that, because what Mom ever wants to know that other kids don't want to play with their child? Granted, he has to do some work on his socializing skills, but he's three! He will learn soon enough that not everyone likes to be roared at by dinosaurs, and he's working on asking people what their names are instead of yelling, "Hey! Boy!"
So if you were watching your sons tease another little boy, what would you do? One mother suggested that her daughter ask Gavin if he wanted to play with her, which she dutifully did. But already the gender roles started to rear their heads, and she - unintentionally - left Gavin behind when she noticed Mia had pierced ears, a novelty. We ended up moving to another nearby playground where both kids had a great time, at least until the same boys came and started teasing Gavin again. The afternoon ended early.
It got me wondering if this desire to tease, to make fun, is inherent or if it is taught. How do I let my kids learn their own way while still staying respectful of other people? How does one learn the difference between harmless teasing and bullying? And is any teasing really harmless, especially when kids are too young to know better?
These were the questions on my mind when I read this today. How that mother must have felt, to know that her son was being punished socially for just being himself. And now she has to let him go. I can't imagine that kind of pain. Kids are cruel - I certainly did/said things when I was a teenager that I'm not proud of now - but should the anti-bullying campaigns stop with their peers. What role do we as parents have in directing our children's' behavior?
It's not enough for kids to hear over and over from Ryan Seacrest or whoever that It Will Get Better. They need to have it reinforced at home that it is not okay to make fun of people for being gay or another race or religion or for having purple hair. Will they cave to peer pressure and join in the teasing on occasion? Probably. But they don't have to be cruel. As parents, we have a role in making sure that it does, in fact, get better. After all, what if our child is the next one to decide that it won't?
The weather brought out lots of other families and the playground was busy. There were a few other boys around my son's age - maybe a little older - and, being a pretty social kid, Gavin tried to join in with their game. The group obviously knew each other and weren't quite sure what Gavin was up to. They started mocking him, "Stop copying us! Dude, stop copying. Leave us alone. Dude."
Poor Gavin. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he got the message. "Mom, those boys don't want to play with me!" It still hurts my heart to hear that, because what Mom ever wants to know that other kids don't want to play with their child? Granted, he has to do some work on his socializing skills, but he's three! He will learn soon enough that not everyone likes to be roared at by dinosaurs, and he's working on asking people what their names are instead of yelling, "Hey! Boy!"
So if you were watching your sons tease another little boy, what would you do? One mother suggested that her daughter ask Gavin if he wanted to play with her, which she dutifully did. But already the gender roles started to rear their heads, and she - unintentionally - left Gavin behind when she noticed Mia had pierced ears, a novelty. We ended up moving to another nearby playground where both kids had a great time, at least until the same boys came and started teasing Gavin again. The afternoon ended early.
It got me wondering if this desire to tease, to make fun, is inherent or if it is taught. How do I let my kids learn their own way while still staying respectful of other people? How does one learn the difference between harmless teasing and bullying? And is any teasing really harmless, especially when kids are too young to know better?
These were the questions on my mind when I read this today. How that mother must have felt, to know that her son was being punished socially for just being himself. And now she has to let him go. I can't imagine that kind of pain. Kids are cruel - I certainly did/said things when I was a teenager that I'm not proud of now - but should the anti-bullying campaigns stop with their peers. What role do we as parents have in directing our children's' behavior?
It's not enough for kids to hear over and over from Ryan Seacrest or whoever that It Will Get Better. They need to have it reinforced at home that it is not okay to make fun of people for being gay or another race or religion or for having purple hair. Will they cave to peer pressure and join in the teasing on occasion? Probably. But they don't have to be cruel. As parents, we have a role in making sure that it does, in fact, get better. After all, what if our child is the next one to decide that it won't?
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Here we go again...
One cold, December morning shortly after Mia was born, I was sitting at the kitchen table, pumping (again) to try to build my milk supply. Gavin, who had not yet turned 2, looked at me and said simply, "Moo."
I've often thought of entering that story in one of those "kids say the darndest things" contests, and I'm still not sure how he made the connection. He'd certainly seen me nursing his sister, but I don't know that he'd ever seen a cow being milked. In any event, he would have known how his sister got her nourishment, if for no other reason than because he'd wondered why his sister was hanging off Mommy's chest for nearly an hour, every two hours, for an entire month.
When Gavin was born he was a big baby - over 9lbs. I anticipated that breastfeeding would be challenging because I'd had a reduction when I was 19, but I still wanted to try. It soon became clear that, despite my best efforts, I would need to supplement. So for more than six months I would nurse Gavin, then offer him formula afterward until he was full. Most night feedings I would nurse exclusively. He grew like a weed, barely got sick and when I went back to work when he was 9 months old there was no major feeding transition.
His sister was born - VBAC - less than two years later. I was determined to try to nurse exclusively, and that I did. I had a lot of well-meaning lactation consultants, nurses, and pediatricians tell me that the more I breastfed, the more milk I would have and it would all be peachy-keen. Except that it wasn't. Mia was jaundiced and gained just four ounces in her first month. It was only after she was admitted to hospital and I started supplementing her that she finally got healthy. Like her brother, she is growing rapidly and hardly ever sick. I nursed her for over nine months.
I guess the point of all this is: I tried. I really, really tried. It would have been so much easier for me to give up and not nurse at all, but I was well-versed in the benefits of breastfeeding and wanted that for my children. I appreciated having the option to nurse my babies instead of stumbling out to the kitchen in the dark to make up a bottle in the middle of the night.
Yet, it didn't seem right that every time I took a bottle out in public to feed one of the kids I felt like I had to justify my actions. Like I wasn't a good mother for bottle-feeding my baby.
So why am I talking about this now?
It would appear that some of the blogosphere's most prominent breastfeeding advocates (see here) have taken it upon themselves to support a petition for Babble.com to remove formula advertising from its website, or at least to adhere to the International Code of Marketing of Breast-Milk Substitutes. Honestly, until this petition I wasn't even aware that there was an International Code of Marketing of Breast-Milk Substitutes.
The backstory is long and convoluted, but my main problem with the petition is the inherent assumption that women can't make informed choices about how to feed their children. It is especially ironic because the women whose actions inspired this petition, Emma Kwasnica, actually stated the following in the comments section of PhD in Parenting's post:
"....it is an impossibility for women to make any kind of an informed choice regarding the feeding of powdered infant formula, or learn about its inherent risks, simply from seeing/reading formula adverts.[....] This is a question of ethics; the advertising of formula to pregnant or new mothers, in any capacity, is unacceptable."
If I follow her logic, because women are too stupid to realize that a formula company has an inherent stake in how she chooses to feed her child, all formula advertising needs to be banned. I know of not one mother - not one - who made the choice whether or not to formula feed her baby because of an advertisement. In my experience, how a woman chooses to feed her child is a deeply personal decision and WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE US ALONE!!! (Sorry for yelling, but you get my point).
Thank heavens for Catherine Connors. Granted, as an editor at Babble, she has a personal stake in this petition, but holy if this column today didn't hit the nail on the head. Reading the comments brought tears to my eyes because I realized that I was not the only mother who felt shame and judgement for simply trying to do what was best for my children.
Demanding that advertising for a certain product be banned suggests that the product itself is so harmful that it shouldn't be seen. It also assumes that its target audience cannot be trusted to make an informed decision about whether or not to use the product. Most disheartening, it implies that those mothers who use the product are bad mothers. It's insulting. It's divisive. We have to do better.
I've often thought of entering that story in one of those "kids say the darndest things" contests, and I'm still not sure how he made the connection. He'd certainly seen me nursing his sister, but I don't know that he'd ever seen a cow being milked. In any event, he would have known how his sister got her nourishment, if for no other reason than because he'd wondered why his sister was hanging off Mommy's chest for nearly an hour, every two hours, for an entire month.
When Gavin was born he was a big baby - over 9lbs. I anticipated that breastfeeding would be challenging because I'd had a reduction when I was 19, but I still wanted to try. It soon became clear that, despite my best efforts, I would need to supplement. So for more than six months I would nurse Gavin, then offer him formula afterward until he was full. Most night feedings I would nurse exclusively. He grew like a weed, barely got sick and when I went back to work when he was 9 months old there was no major feeding transition.
His sister was born - VBAC - less than two years later. I was determined to try to nurse exclusively, and that I did. I had a lot of well-meaning lactation consultants, nurses, and pediatricians tell me that the more I breastfed, the more milk I would have and it would all be peachy-keen. Except that it wasn't. Mia was jaundiced and gained just four ounces in her first month. It was only after she was admitted to hospital and I started supplementing her that she finally got healthy. Like her brother, she is growing rapidly and hardly ever sick. I nursed her for over nine months.
I guess the point of all this is: I tried. I really, really tried. It would have been so much easier for me to give up and not nurse at all, but I was well-versed in the benefits of breastfeeding and wanted that for my children. I appreciated having the option to nurse my babies instead of stumbling out to the kitchen in the dark to make up a bottle in the middle of the night.
Yet, it didn't seem right that every time I took a bottle out in public to feed one of the kids I felt like I had to justify my actions. Like I wasn't a good mother for bottle-feeding my baby.
So why am I talking about this now?
It would appear that some of the blogosphere's most prominent breastfeeding advocates (see here) have taken it upon themselves to support a petition for Babble.com to remove formula advertising from its website, or at least to adhere to the International Code of Marketing of Breast-Milk Substitutes. Honestly, until this petition I wasn't even aware that there was an International Code of Marketing of Breast-Milk Substitutes.
The backstory is long and convoluted, but my main problem with the petition is the inherent assumption that women can't make informed choices about how to feed their children. It is especially ironic because the women whose actions inspired this petition, Emma Kwasnica, actually stated the following in the comments section of PhD in Parenting's post:
"....it is an impossibility for women to make any kind of an informed choice regarding the feeding of powdered infant formula, or learn about its inherent risks, simply from seeing/reading formula adverts.[....] This is a question of ethics; the advertising of formula to pregnant or new mothers, in any capacity, is unacceptable."
If I follow her logic, because women are too stupid to realize that a formula company has an inherent stake in how she chooses to feed her child, all formula advertising needs to be banned. I know of not one mother - not one - who made the choice whether or not to formula feed her baby because of an advertisement. In my experience, how a woman chooses to feed her child is a deeply personal decision and WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE US ALONE!!! (Sorry for yelling, but you get my point).
Thank heavens for Catherine Connors. Granted, as an editor at Babble, she has a personal stake in this petition, but holy if this column today didn't hit the nail on the head. Reading the comments brought tears to my eyes because I realized that I was not the only mother who felt shame and judgement for simply trying to do what was best for my children.
Demanding that advertising for a certain product be banned suggests that the product itself is so harmful that it shouldn't be seen. It also assumes that its target audience cannot be trusted to make an informed decision about whether or not to use the product. Most disheartening, it implies that those mothers who use the product are bad mothers. It's insulting. It's divisive. We have to do better.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Alpha-Mom
Next week Gavin starts preschool. I am still baffled by how intense this whole preschool thing is. I've received at least three emails in the last week with VERY IMPORTANT information. It all makes sense - the rules about discipline and what to bring for snacks - but I fear that if there's this much to keep track of when he's 3, my head might explode by the time he reaches kindergarten.
For awhile, Murray and I thought that we might pull him out all together, because I didn't know I could possibly leave work in the middle of the day Tues/Thurs, take him to class, and still have time get everything done. Then on the last possible day, Murray says, "Well, why don't I take the kids to daycare on Tues/Thurs. You can get to work early, and then see if you can go in on Fridays." I checked it out with my boss and the babysitter and they both agreed to my alternate schedule, so now here we are: four days from D-day.
This week we decided to test-drive the new schedule. On Tuesday morning I woke up around 5:15am, made coffee and our usual breakfast smoothie (both things Murray normally takes care of). I came downstairs, ready to go to work around 6:15 and saw Murray still on the couch in his pajamas. I suggested that he might want to get ready before the kids were up. They still weren't up by the time I left, around 6:45 (no, I don't know where that 1/2 hour went either). I thought that there was no way that Murray would be able to finish getting himself ready and get both kids fed, dressed, and out the door on time.
Wrong.
According to him it was an absolute breeze and they were out of the house by 7:30 and he was at work by 8:20. For some reason, this brought about feelings of jealousy and inadequacy that I'm almost embarrassed to admit. See, as much as I truly appreciate having a partner who will take an equal role like this, there is part of me that wanted that for myself. I can no longer say, "But you have no idea how hard it can be to get them out the door in the morning!" because he does. The fact that it went better for him made me wonder what, exactly, have I been doing wrong.
I don't think I'm alone among mothers for wanting our partners to contribute more, but then still wanting to keep ownership over the whole "parenting" job. I think there are a lot of moms who like being the "only one" who knows how to get the toddler to bed, or what food their son will eat, or what shirt their daughter will want to wear today. Yet at the same time they're wishing that their partner would help more with bedtime, and meal time and getting their children dressed. It's the proverbial double-edged sword.
In our own family, I've managed to fight those feelings because I know that being able to handle the morning routine will give Murray more confidence as a parent. I think it's better for the kids too, to have two parents who contribute (almost) equally to their care.
Then, after I had come to that conclusion myself, came Thursday. It took nearly 20 minutes to convince Mia that a diaper was not optional and that she would need to get dressed. Gavin refused to put a shirt on underneath his hoodie (he will only wear one shirt at a time). Murray still managed to get them out of the house in decent time and was just a few minutes late for work.
All was right with the world.
For awhile, Murray and I thought that we might pull him out all together, because I didn't know I could possibly leave work in the middle of the day Tues/Thurs, take him to class, and still have time get everything done. Then on the last possible day, Murray says, "Well, why don't I take the kids to daycare on Tues/Thurs. You can get to work early, and then see if you can go in on Fridays." I checked it out with my boss and the babysitter and they both agreed to my alternate schedule, so now here we are: four days from D-day.
This week we decided to test-drive the new schedule. On Tuesday morning I woke up around 5:15am, made coffee and our usual breakfast smoothie (both things Murray normally takes care of). I came downstairs, ready to go to work around 6:15 and saw Murray still on the couch in his pajamas. I suggested that he might want to get ready before the kids were up. They still weren't up by the time I left, around 6:45 (no, I don't know where that 1/2 hour went either). I thought that there was no way that Murray would be able to finish getting himself ready and get both kids fed, dressed, and out the door on time.
Wrong.
According to him it was an absolute breeze and they were out of the house by 7:30 and he was at work by 8:20. For some reason, this brought about feelings of jealousy and inadequacy that I'm almost embarrassed to admit. See, as much as I truly appreciate having a partner who will take an equal role like this, there is part of me that wanted that for myself. I can no longer say, "But you have no idea how hard it can be to get them out the door in the morning!" because he does. The fact that it went better for him made me wonder what, exactly, have I been doing wrong.
I don't think I'm alone among mothers for wanting our partners to contribute more, but then still wanting to keep ownership over the whole "parenting" job. I think there are a lot of moms who like being the "only one" who knows how to get the toddler to bed, or what food their son will eat, or what shirt their daughter will want to wear today. Yet at the same time they're wishing that their partner would help more with bedtime, and meal time and getting their children dressed. It's the proverbial double-edged sword.
In our own family, I've managed to fight those feelings because I know that being able to handle the morning routine will give Murray more confidence as a parent. I think it's better for the kids too, to have two parents who contribute (almost) equally to their care.
Then, after I had come to that conclusion myself, came Thursday. It took nearly 20 minutes to convince Mia that a diaper was not optional and that she would need to get dressed. Gavin refused to put a shirt on underneath his hoodie (he will only wear one shirt at a time). Murray still managed to get them out of the house in decent time and was just a few minutes late for work.
All was right with the world.
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