SAHM

Next Year will be Entirely Different

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“This year will be tough,” I thought to myself, anticipating the summer beach trips at my mom’s beloved but entirely toddler-unfriendly beach house, “but next year… just wait until next year!” The glass-topped tables, the readily accessible stairs, the breakable lamps attached to tuggable cords, the vulnerable trinkets, the vertical blinds, the unlatched cabinets, the massive canvas painting hung within swatting distance above the sofa, the media console with an array of enticing buttons… so much to safeguard from my bumbling tike. But being at the beach makes it all worthwhile.

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Summer 2016

I envisioned my long, memory-filled, sand-dusted, sun-soaked days wrangling my kindergartener and preschooler while simultaneously chasing my toddler on the beach, at the pool, on the playground, and then at the beach house. I recounted the strain of having no childproofed place I can safely place my littlest so that I can cook dinner, pack the beach cooler, make snacks, go to the bathroom, or just sit for a beat. I remembered how I woke up every day at 6AM on vacation and popped him — wailing — into the pack-and-play so that I could wearily pump, set out breakfasts, and pack for the day’s beach excursion before the rest of the house awoke. I remembered the sinking dread I felt at the prediction of a rainstorm that would keep us trapped inside.

This year, I’ll have to wean from pumping before we take our trips and I’ll have to wear him whenever we’re in the house, because a pack-and-play will no longer stand as an impeding obstacle to my athletic tot. I will be on duty from wake-up to bedtime. I will enjoy it. I will treasure it. I will end the season with a multitude of photos and a plethora of cherished memories. I will be exhausted in the best and most depleting way. “Just push through this year,” I reassured myself, “next year will be entirely different.”

Then it struck me: next year will be entirely different. It will be easier, but next year they’ll all be older. My herd will be 7, 5, and 3. 7… 7-years old! The better part of a decade? And my middle son a burgeoning kindergartener?? No more baby? No more toddler? Tears welled. My throat grew tight. They’re growing too fast! Make it stop!

Sure, life will still be loud and chaotic, because that is our familial heartbeat. Vacations will still be life relocated. I will still fight the descent into anarchy by planning and packing, scheduling and routine. My “vacation” will happen each night during the two hours between the kids’ bedtime and my own. I will, no doubt, still referee and soothe, corral and amuse, but I won’t be needed in that primal way. That exhausting, rewarding, wholly taxing manner that both fills the soul and drains all mental capacity.

And with that I stopped coaching myself to “just push through this year” but, instead, to savor it. Because next year will be entirely different.

6 Tips for Transitioning to Stay-at-Home Motherhood

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Congratulations! You’re becoming a stay-at-home parent. Whether the transition is one rooted in choice, sheer necessity, or is simply due to life circumstances, welcome to the club! Beyond the obvious need to switch from dry-clean-only to washable attire, here are six of my personal tips for those entering upon the task of stay-at-home parenting.

My littlest and me

My littlest and me

1) Identify. Find out whether your kid(s) and you do best when at home or when out and about. Figure out the right ratio for your brood: home in the morning then out in the afternoon, out all day until dinnertime, out then in for naps then back out until dinner prep, or out just one or two days each week. Like adults, some kids are homebodies whereas others flourish when out of the house. Similarly, some parents do better out of the house rather than in. It takes some trial and error to determine the appropriate balance, but it’s there. Once you’ve found it, set your plans and schedule accordingly.

2) Prepare. Being prepared is key to the stay-at-home parent’s survival. Set out clothes at least the night before, set out coats and shoes the night before, pack lunches and snacks the day before, prepare breakfast for quick serving the night before. If “hell hour” is real and daily, aim for dinners you can prep earlier in the day so that you’re not trying to cook and comfort at the same time. Meal plan (not only does this save money and impromptu grocery trips, but it makes evenings easier), schedule activities at a minimum one day ahead, consider yourself an administrative assistant… with a warlord of a boss. The better you plan, the smoother things will go.

3) Relax. Just because you don’t get paid doesn’t mean you don’t work, and it certainly doesn’t mean you don’t need a break. Whether it’s an exercise class, coffee with a friend, a regular mind-clearing walk, a valued hobby, drinks with friends, or quiet alone time, make sure you replenish yourself. Being a stay-at-home parent is demanding and can easily lead to burnout. We cannot pour from an empty cup, so stay vigilant. Stay full.

4) Regiment. Most kids thrive on a routine. I have yet to encounter a routine-utilizing parent who finds the practice unfruitful. However, I know many routine-avoiding parents who often say they wish they had one. Find what works for you and stick to it. If naptime or quiet time is crucial (for your offspring or you), keep it sacred. If late morning starts are golden, don’t leave the house until close to lunchtime. If meltdowns are inevitable come 3:00, plan to be at home base no later than 2:59. Know your pitfalls as well as your needs and navigate accordingly.

5) Network Talk to local stay-at-home parents. Hit up story times, chat up fellow school parents, get to know neighbors, let fellow stay-at-home parents know you’re looking to expand your circle. Stay-at-home moms, in particular, more often than not love to help. From pediatricians to playdates, babysitters to preschools, swim lessons to date night spots, your network will prove invaluable. Want to know what heavy-hitter viruses are going around? Ask your network. Potty-training conundrum or seemingly unsurvivable kid phase? Hit up your network. Need a handyman or a new gynecologist? Call up your network. A network is a necessity.

6) Research  Google, fellow moms, local parenting bloggers, local activity listing sites, your county’s library webpage, your local mall and indoor playgrounds, nearby museums, community centers and nature centers… check them out for outing ideas. Hunt for free or cheap options. Do watch coupon sites as fine print and usage limitations can get tricky. Get out there and you’ll likely find your community has a slew of hidden gems.

Stay-at-home parenting is hard, under-appreciated, and unfunded. It’s 24/7. It’s unyielding. It’s gross and heavy and taxing. It’s the most rewarding, love-filled, unregrettable endeavor you can undertake. Your children have but one childhood, being there to experience it is priceless. Welcome!

Because Toddlers are Jerks

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When you are the parent of a young child, you quickly learn that all paper page children’s books should come with at least one roll of invisible tape. All pop-up books should come with a bottle of wine and a roll of clear packing tape. All board books should come with the note: “Good source of fiber.”

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Happy taping!

Finding Mom Friends

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Today I went to toddler story time at the local library.  I entered the familar space, falling quickly into the 5-years-long routine. My toddler and I sat where we usually sit. We smiled at familiar faces, clapped along to songs I could sing in my sleep, and chatted with a handful of friends. As I left, I remembered that things were not always so familiar… so comfortable.

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I remembered back to when I was a first-time-mom with a fussy baby who awoke every 45 minutes to nurse. I remembered I was working part-time with a long commute and felt like I was hopelessly failing, straddling two worlds of motherhood: stay-at-home and working. But what I remembered most of all was the loneliness.

I remembered story time days being marked on my calendar. I remembered carefully choosing my outfit and my daughter’s. I remembered telling myself that this would be the day I’d actually be brave and reach out to one of the fellow moms. I remembered hoping to find a connection. To befriend someone who shared my journey.

I remembered so often 10 minutes before we were supposed to leave, my baby would want to take an unexpected nap. I remembered feeling that sinking disappointment as my first-time-mom self watched the time tick by as I nursed my little one to sleep, imagining what I was missing. I remembered changing from jeans into well-worn yoga pants with tears in my eyes, thinking I’d never find mom friends.

I remembered, on days when the stars alligned, I attended story times. I’d see fellow moms, thinking perhaps one would be a possible friend. I remembered seeing twosomes and threesomes of moms chatting; I longed for that bond. I remembered being too shy to start a conversation, too self-conscious to bridge the gap. I remembered walking away wishing I had. If only I could be different… more outgoing, more confident.

I remembered joining mom groups to meet friends. I remembered the awkward feeling of not quite belonging. I remembered when I met one sweet friend at a group gathering and feeling light and happy in our chatter. I remembered our little ones playing happily side-by-side as new toddlers do. I remembered the sadness I felt when she moved away.

I remembered making my first story time friend. Her growing brood was just 6 months ahead of my own duo. Our herds grew up together, story time being our shared stomping ground (literally and figuratively) as our children increased in both years and numbers. I remembered that friend sharing her maternal wisdom. I remembered growing more confident in my mothering abilities and, consequently, in myself.

I remembered the old feelings of loneliness back when all I wanted was a solid night’s sleep and a mom friend. I wanted to hug my former self. I wanted to reassure that harried, anxious, self-flagellating first-time-mom me that things would get easier. That I’d not only find my way but myself… and a beautiful collection of dear friends who shared in my journey.

Now I have a cluster of treasured mom friends, all who bring their unique joys, insights, guidance, and influences to my life. Now — as a mom of a kindergartener, preschooler, and a toddler — I am confident. I am outgoing. I am unapologetically me. I am happy. It just took time, patience, a little self-confidence, and some good friends.

If you’re like the old me, know you’ll get there too. You’re not alone. Be braver than me… bridge that gap. Say, “hi”, smile, be you. Soon you’ll find your path, yourself, and your tribe.

Wracked with Mom Guilt

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The house is quiet. I desperately want to be asleep. Instead… mom guilt.

I yelled too much. I didn’t cuddle enough. They’re growing too fast. I should be more Pintrest-y. I don’t give this child enough one-on-one time. I should do more cool things with the other child. Am I teaching the youngest enough? I should make a sensory box. I should savor bedtime instead of surviving it. Should I let my littlest move forward with ridiculously early potty-training even though I really don’t want to do it right now? I’m letting the memories all slip by. I need to exercise more. Why can I not remember when my middle son first stood on his own? I feel like I failed today.

So much guilt. SO much!

So much pointless self-flagellation. If I’m going to berate myself and sacrifice much-needed sleep to do so, I might as well make it worthwhile. But how?

Tomorrow! Tomorrow is a fresh start. A new day. An opportunity to yell less, hug more, be more present and patient, be more creative and encouraging. I will do better tomorrow. At least I’ll try.

I won’t be perfect. I will slip up. I will do my best.

And that’s all we can do. We must accept our faults, learn from our mistakes, actively do better, and forgive ourselves. For what is the point of suffering guilt if not to move ourselves in a positive, remedying direction?

We are human. We are flawed. We are parents. We have tomorrow.

Grateful to be a Stay-at-home Mom

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It’s days like today when I am grateful to be a stay-at-home mom. It wasn’t an easy day or a particularly challenging day, it wasn’t monumentally memorable or undeniably notable in any way. It was a relatively standard day in my harried, scheduled, intentional life as a stay-at-home mom of three kids 5 and under. But I was there, and for that I am grateful.

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Sure, being a stay-at-home parent is an ongoing gig with few breaks, no vacation or sick days, no pay, and little appreciation (heck, some even resent if not balk at the endeavor), but it is immensely rewarding. For me.

Others may find the undertaking simply torturous or overwhelmingly monotonous. It is truly all in how you approach the responsibility and how you are wired.

I treat my stay-at-home parenting as a job. Truly. Each day I am focused on maintaining a schedule and –hopefully — creating a socially enriching and physically healthy routine for my kids. I have a plan every day just as I did when I was a cubicle-dweller. Just now my colleagues wipe their noses on my clothes and all bathroom duties are communal.

Some people are destined to be moguls, intellectuals, healers, entrepreneurs, managers, artists, or organizers. Heck, some people have no desire to procreate at all. To them I say, “Bravo!” Knowing yourself and your goals, being true to yourself despite outside pressures — real and imagined — takes fortitude. Do you!

Then, there are the men and women like me whose main life goal is to nurture our own offspring. We don’t aspire to be rich in wealth or fame, just in love.

Unfortunately, sometimes life unfolds in such a way that this doesn’t or cannot occur. Instead of walking their dreamed journey, individuals are forcibly detoured to another life path without the comfort of celestial explanation.

Other times, the nurturing path is open. The life aspirations of 24/7 care duties ensue. It’s humbling and fulfilling, exhausting and invigorating, disgusting and beautiful all at once. Each day presents millions of individual moments that range greatly from sweet to stressful, comical to thought-provoking. Some days you feel as if you have hardly used your brain beyond basic feed-clean-protect duties. Then there are days you flop onto your bed in complete exhaustion not knowing how you survived — or how you’ll manage the strength to visit the bathroom to empty your hours-full bladder — but you’re certain that you’ll do it all again tomorrow. Because you’re a parent and that’s what you do.

Today though. Today, mingled among the mundane and trying moments, were brilliant flickers of beauty that reminded me why I am so grateful to be home with my children.

This morning I had the ability to spend a morning taking my littlest to a playground where he could run about with his pint-sized friend. I could take him to a children’s concert and witness his amusement. I could take my boys for a long walk in the afternoon sun and make a last-minute detour to a playground before school pick-up duties called. I could collect my kindergartener from school and hear her gush about her day. I could be here for the good, the bad, the goofy, and the downright obnoxious.

I once worked. I once wore heels and dangling earrings. I once had coffee with fellow adults and spoke in uninterrupted sentences. That’s a past me. A me that was unhappy and unfulfilled because I was playing a roll that didn’t suit me. Just as a natural career man or woman would feel if he or she was forced to be a stay-at-home parent.

There is no single path. There is no “right” or “wrong” journey. It is simply up to us to follow the road laid out before us, to seek our own happiness in accordance with our circumstances and selves.

This is my path. And I am grateful to be present.

Mom Regret

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Lately I’ve been stewing. I keep returning to the same pointless, irrational line of thinking: “I wasted 3 years of my life struggling, stressing, and straining to work part-time when all I really wanted was to be a stay-at-home mom.”

I know some people, especially those thoroughly invested in the corporate world, hear my stay-at-home mom career goal and think, “Oh, she’s lazy. She just wants to hang out at home all day.” Let me attempt to stifle my laughter. I’m sorry… I can’t.

Being a stay-at-home parent isn’t glamorous, easy, lucrative, or even widely valued. People assume that there’s endless spare time and immeasurable ass-sitting. They think about their days off and assume that must be the stay-at-home parent’s life. Maybe that’s the case for some mythical stay-at-home parents but I know no such existence.

This week, when the neighbor girl I drive home from school each day asked me how my day went, I said, “It was pretty good. Your standard day of a stay-at-home mom; both shoulders were smeared with someone else’s snot by 9:30am.” And that’s my life. Pick-ups and drop-offs, meal planning and playdate arranging, errand running and snack making, school calendar tending and social calendar pruning. I wipe butts and feed faces. I tame emotional swirls and referee skirmishes. I kiss boo-boos and read books. I balance activity time with learning time, with quality time with quiet time. I’m a chauffeur, hairstylist, counselor, nutritionist, human facial tissue, and 24-hour wet nurse but don’t get paid a dime.

But do you know what? I love it.

Even on my worst days — the ones when my throat is scratchy from yelling, my clothes are a petri dish of bodily fluids, my dark circles have dark circles, my mom guilt is raging — I still love it. “When you do what you love, you never work a day in your life,” they say. I work… I work my ass off, but I cherish the opportunity and would never trade it.

Instead, I look back at the years I worked part-time, out of both financial necessity and fear of change, and I lament the stress, the loss of time, the things — imagined and real — that I missed. Still, not only can I not undo the past, I shouldn’t. My life and myself are the way they are now because of all I learned, did, and experienced then.

I grew from those struggles. I met some wonderful people. I developed a greater appreciation for the ability to be a stay-at-home mom instead of standing with a foot in both the stay-at-home and corporate world, not truly belonging to either.

My children got quality time with their grandparents and great-aunt because I worked part-time and relied on them to care for my children. My husband, who also provided childcare while I worked, became adept at caring for our children on his own and developed a profound awareness of the demands of being a stay-at-home parent.

I wouldn’t trade those things. I wouldn’t change them. So why am I lamenting something I wouldn’t undo?

Because I’m a mom. And that’s what we do. Even when we give all that we can, we strive to give more. So much so that we delve into our past — one thing we can never change — to examine how we could have given more… how we failed. What a waste of energy and mental function!

I need to take a cue from Elsa and “Let it go!”

The Busy Season

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Summer: the stay-at-home parent’s busy season. Long days, warm nights, swimming pools and splash pads, playdates and summer camps, vacations and family outings. Summer requires a lot of planning.

2016-05-31 07.04.54When you go grocery shopping, your entire herd goes with you. There’s no quick Target run while the kids are in school or mom coffee date with just the baby in tow. You’ve got all of your minions all day long, every day.

This is great because you love your kids. The extra time to focus on appreciating them, experiencing summer fun through their awestruck eyes, stockpiling the new experiences, and revisiting family traditions… it’s magical. All of that magic doesn’t happen on its own though.

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Months of planning, researching, budgeting, and form-completing goes into making a summer great. Getting the right balance of vacation, relaxation, and scheduling takes effort.

Amidst all of this well-planned fun, your to-do list is ever-growing: schedule playdates with friends the school year holds hostage, pack and unpack suitcases and day trip bags, buy tickets and passes for destinations and summer events, scour websites for family activities, get medical forms completed for camps and the eventual school year, ensure bathing suits fit and flip flops are functional, buy cart loads of sunscreen and bugspray, stock up on Band-Aids. Meanwhile, all of your usual chores — from dishes to laundry, from sweeping to bathroom tidying, from grocery shopping to meal preparation — amplify with all of the extra sweaty, chlorinated, sun-baked, snack-obsessed bodies constantly milling about.

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The extra family time. The opportunity to be with your children, to soak them in. The countless memories. The sun and salt and sand. Summer is wonderful! It’s also a crapload of work.

Here’s to you, stay-at-home parents! Enjoy it. Savor it. Survive it.

My Morning Routine

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Mornings are nuts… always. I plan and prep and rise early to ease the burden, but they’re still dependably bordering on mayhem.

Nearly every day, we venture out for a morning activity and an afternoon activity. Whether it’s preschool, a class at the community center, storytime at the library, a playdate, a walk, a bike ride, a visit with family, or an errand, the kids (and I) do best if we’re out and about often. As Hubs frequently works from home, this provides him with some much-needed quiet time in the otherwise noisy house too.

As the kids get hungry for lunch between 11:00 and 11:30am, we generally need to be out the door for our morning activity by 9am. Here’s what I do to make that happen.

My days start sometime between 5:45am and 6:15am. I brew my green tea, grab my apple, turn on the local news, and pump. By 7:00am #3 is awake and sometimes #1 is too. Hubs brings down #3, changes his diaper, and plops him in the pack-and-play.

Out of sheer pride, #3 disputes his confinement until the local traffic newscaster comes on TV. At which point, he goes quiet and smooshes his fat face against the mesh wall, staring at her like he’s the creepy drunk dude at the end of the bar.

While #3 is distracted, I throw my breast pump parts in very hot soapy water to soak, then bag, label, and freeze the milk. #3 is usually shrieking at me from the pack-and-play by the time I close the freezer door. (The traffic portion is clearly too short for his liking.)

I pour a second mug of green tea, nurse #3, then upstairs we go. I fill our big soaker tub with and inch or so of water and plop #3 in the bath surrounded by floating toys, so that I can get ready for the day.

By 7:45am, I’m toweling off #3 and dressing him. #1 is downstairs usually watching “Dora”, at this point, while lazily eating the breakfast I prepped the evening before.

By 8am, I’m helping #1 do her hair. (If you’ve ever met #1, you know she takes her hair seriously.) As a curly girl myself, I get it.

During the hair routine, #3 is usually trying to eat conditioner, unrolling toilet paper, attempting to lick the toilet, and slamming the bathroom door against my leg. Sometime just before I awake #2 but before #3 manages to French kiss the floor vent, I call Hubs to fetch him to feed him the breakfast I prepped the prior evening.

After successfully styling #1, it’s time to rouse #2. It’s a feat. He loves his bed. We moan and growl our way through the process but, by the time he’s dressed, he’s happily skipping down the stairs to eat his pre-prepared breakfast.

8:15am, I blend the smoothie I prepped the night before, use the second mug of now-luke-warm green tea I had forgotten on the counter to slug down my vitamins, yell at the heathens to stop jumping around like chimpanzees and eat their breakfasts, and — if I’m lucky — pour myself a bowl of Cheerios with cashewmilk. Between bites of cereal or sips of smoothie, I finish feeding #3, clean up breakfasts, rinse my breast pump parts and pop them on the drying rack, then clean up the disaster that is #3’s breakfast area. (Eating is an all-sensory event for #3.)

By 8:30 I am checking #1 and #2’s breakfast progress as I put #3 in the playroom to roam about. I start setting out shoes and jackets, while giving the kids a warning that we’ll be heading out soon. 8:40 is “5-minute warning” time, and at 8:45 #3 is getting his diaper changed, #1 and #2 visit the bathroom, we pull on socks and shoes, squabble about what toy #2 can bring with him in the car, and off we go negotiating who gets to open the minivan door.

People ask me why I get up so early. How could I not? It’s survival.