The In-Between Time

Carla: I love this time of year. I love the tension between past and future, this one week when the year that is closing seems complete and the year ahead seems wide open. It’s like this little island of contentment and possibility in the sea of constant expectation and anxiety.

I find that the fact that the year is ending means I no longer think about what did or didn’t happen during year. Any hopes I had of living up to whatever expectations I had last year at this time are gone–and that’s good! I didn’t loose 20 pounds. I wasn’t more patient. I didn’t work on any of my book ideas. I didn’t walk every day (see “didn’t loose 20 pounds”). I didn’t write letters or learn to knit or get organized. And you know what? It didn’t matter. Those things might have been nice, but not doing them didn’t ruin my year. Since I can no longer say “2009 is the year I….” I find that those things don’t concern me all that much. The stress of trying to improve myself has vanished.

In its place is this wondrous feeling of hope and possibility. The clean slate of 2010 is there, just waiting for me to make my mark. And I love that feeling. I love being on the front end of a new thing and knowing that there are changes ahead that I can’t even begin to imagine.

I realize that I felt this way about 2009, that I had high hopes of knitting and walking and writing and shrinking and that none of those hopes turned to reality. But 2010 gives me another chance to do–or not do–something about it. The pressure is off and there’s nothing but promise ahead.

Parenting gives us ample opportunity to beat ourselves up. But for the rest of this week, give yourself a break. You made it through this year. There are undoubtedly mistakes you wish you could undo. moments you wish you could take back. But instead of dwelling on those, give yourself a pat on the back for doing your best. Then move on. There’s a new year ahead.

Caryn: This is also why lately I love Mondays. Full of hope and promise and the chance to start fresh. Anything that offers that, is good with me.

I am more than ready to say goodbye to 2009. In many ways, it’s been a great year: my first book came out in March; I got an offer for a second book this fall; among other good things.

But these past few months have been more crazy than I can handle due to my husband’s campaign for State Rep. We’ve moved from a pretty egalitarian, co-parenting, co-working family to sort of the retro, Mommy smiles supportively while Daddy follows his dream. (Or, honestly, Mommy smiles supportively until bitterness and exhaustion get the best of me then I start yelling. And then I get it out and go back to smiley support.)

This sounds meaner than I want it to—because his race is exciting and I love it in many ways. Not to mention, that I’m incredibly proud. But I use it as an example to support many of the things I haven’t been able to do either. You’ll note (or at least Carla has) that I haven’t been the one to start a post in about 3 months. My brain space and computer time is so diminished and consumed that lots on my end have just had to give.

So to me 2010 offers a chance to move out of our sort of limbo, yet insanely busy campaigning state and see what our new reality will be. If it’s as a political family, great. Just gotta get used to that. If it’s not, great too. Either we’ll go back to the usual, or look forward to a new thing again. Either way, I’ve got a new book to write (and a deadline with money attached to it—so that’s a good incentive!) and a few other ideas up my sleeve that will drive me nuts if they stay bottled up in my brain.

Wow did I go off-topic. Sorry. Can you tell what’s on my mind? All to say, yes. Let’s give ourselves breaks for the next day or two of the year. Each of us did what we could (most likely) and here’s to 2010 giving us another chance to do what we’d love to do.

And if you live in Illinois, in the 41st District, for God’s sake get out on Feb. 2 (or do early voting) and vote for Rafael Rivadeneira. Who wouldn’t want a State Rep with a wife who blogs about life as it really is? : )

Carla: Okay Revs, for today and most of tomorrow, let go of any disappointment, guilt, and/or regret of 2009 and give yourself credit for all the ways you survived this year. Whether you accomplished something or nothing, whether you lost weight or money or sanity, let it go and breath in the goodness of a fresh start.

Happy New Year friends! Thanks for sharing your lives with us this year. We can’t wait to see where this Revolution takes us in 2010.

Giving Birth to a Big Idea

Carla: We know we’ve been a little quiet over here at the Rev. November was a sucky month for both of us and we are glad to see it go. But in the middle of the suckiness, we’ve had an idea that we want to bounce off of you.

We want to expand the Revolution. Right now, it’s just the two of us blathering on about this and that, and all of you making the whole blog so much better with your insights and honesty. So we want to make the Mommy Rev. more like a magazine with contributors and sections and regular features that not only offers more thoughts on more topics, but also makes space for more voices in this conversation.

We’ll keep blogging, but by next spring, we want to have a fresh site that is a one-stop resource for women and men who want to reframe parenting, faith, and life. While not being specifically a Christian site, we want to incorporate spirituality into what we’re doing not only because of our faith, but because we believe that spirituality is part of every life, no matter how a person expresses it.

Caryn and I are busy thinking about the kinds of issues we’d want to cover in this e-zine/website mash-up we have in our heads. We know we don’t want this to be about parenting in the “12 Ways to Get Your Kid to Eat Broccoli” kind of way, but we want to cover the fullness of who we are as people.

So we want to hear from you. What kind of broad topics do you want to read about? What are the big questions that we should explore?

Caryn: Yay! I’m so excited about this. We seriously have some cool stuff cooking in our heads and up our sleeves.

But I’d also like to know the types of formats you enjoy (besides our little back-and-forth blog chats, of course). I mean, do you like a little Q&A with “celebrity” guests. Do you want more in-depth, Vanity Fair type exposes that mean Carla and I have to spend lots of time snooping around the Hamptons this summer (please say yes)? And are there some really practical, how-to sorts of things that you might find helpful? I mean while we’re NOT looking to tell you how to get your kids to eat broccoli (I’ve just given up, frankly), I often want to know some specific tips on some parenting things (like how to get an embedded earring back out of my daughter’s ear, for example. Thank you, Facebook friends!) and on some woman and life kinds of things.

So please, tell us, tell us, tell us. And tell us WHO you’d like to hear from as well. And if you happen to be a gifted designer and web-person who’d like to do this for–um, how shall we put this?–crap pay, let us know that too.

Hope we can get you all as excited as we are.

The Rev Interview

Caryn: So when I started on my new “career” as a speaker and starting hitting up the church-women circuit, on more than one occasion I had people tell me I reminded them of this Elisabeth Corcoran woman. I’m not sure that it’s complimentary to her, but I took it as one since I’d heard Elisabeth speak and enjoyed her writing. But honestly, I think it’s just because we both have long, blonde hair. And truth be told, although we blondes get mocked for being stupid, the rest of the world seems to think all us long-blonde-haired types look alike. Now, who’s stupid….?

All this to say, Elisabeth and I have become dear Facebook friends, and have tried to connect for lunch, but I just keep dropping the ball because of this darned mommy-writing thing I have going on (she’s free as a bird with kids in school all day!). And Elisabeth just wrote a new book called He IS Just That Into You, which is fun and real and funny and deep and all the things we love at here at the Mommy Revolution.

Since a major theme of her book is on God’s faithfulness, I asked her a couple questions about that:

Caryn: What are three (or whatever) of the craziest ways you’ve seen God show up in your life?

Elisabeth: He told me actual directions to get to a home décor store once.  Seriously.  (It’s in the book.)

One time when I was away on a retreat alone, I felt him show up to bring me huge, deep healing after a long stretch of sadness.  (In the book.)

Almost every moment that I can recall from my times in Africa.  (In the book.  

Caryn: We’re all about expectation and myth-busting. How has God’s faithfulness to you helped you live out motherhood in a more “true-to-you and true-to-God” fashion (fashion meaning, way, I’m not talking about your home decoration store stuff here)?

E: I really desire to have a daily and moment-to-moment relationship with God that influences my life, not just a Sunday thing, and not just a quiet time thing, and not just an all-talk thing.  I remember a very clear time when God showed me how much He cared about my daughter by using the Spirit to nudge me to pick her up early from a sleepover.  I didn’t listen.  I choose not to listen.  She called a few hours later saying they were watching a really scary and inappropriate movie.  I told her I was sorry and that I would listen in the future when the Spirit was nudging.  (In the book.  I’m noticing a trend here…) 

C: How do you communicate God’s faithfulness to your kids?

E: I pray for them and with them.  I ask others to pray for them.  A very recent (not in the book!) example is that my son is having some issues adjusting to middle school – who wouldn’t?  Just two days I asked a few friends and my mom to pray for him.  He came home that day saying he had a much better day and even his homework time went ridiculously more smoothly.  Though I didn’t tell him that I told all my friends to pray for him so he wouldn’t be embarrassed, I did say, “I bet I know why it was a better day…Grammy was praying for you all day today.”  He’s able to connect that praying actually works in his daily life.  Love when that happens.

C: Is there anything you’re currently waiting for God to be faithful on? How has your past experience with his showing up affected your patience or perserverance?

E: I have a relationship in my life that is consistently difficult.  I’m no longer waiting on God to change my circumstances like I used to be; now I’m waiting on God to keep my buoyed up in the harder moments.  And he has been and does.  I’ve seen him get me through really huge hard things without me completely losing it, so I know I can get through this with him walking me through it.

For more about the book or Elisabeth, visit her website or watch the fancy little book trailer.

Watch Me!

Carla: I was at the playground with the kiddles this afternoon (side note: playgrounds suck the energy out of me. I don’t know why) and as I listened to the constant stream of  ”watch me” calls from my children (which may or may not be related to my feelings about playgrounds), I thought about that need children have to be noticed, to have someone pay attention to their various feats of strength and daring and creativity and silliness. And I thought about how that need never really goes away. At least not for me.

Now I might be a total fame whore here and none of you will resonate with this, but I think one of the reasons parenting is a challenge for me is that no one really notices it. Of course people will certainly let you know when you aren’t doing it the way they think you should, but for the most part, our feats of strength and daring and creativity and silliness are unseen.

When my kids say, “Watch me!” I (eventually) respond with my full attention and give them high praise for whatever they just did: “That was really cool!” “You are so strong!” “I can’t believe you can hang upside-down!” I wonder what our days would be like if we had an appreciative audience offering behavior-specific praise. It would be nice to hear someone say, “Carla, I like the way you woke up from a dead sleep at 3:00 this morning when your 4-year-old appeared at your bedside telling you she threw up.” Or “You are so good at appearing to listen as your daughter moves into minute 34 of her daily middle-school update.” Or “Nice work feeding the kids, hauling everyone to the soccer game, cheering on your son without getting too much mud on your nice shoes, then getting yourself to a meeting with three minutes to spare.”  Or even, “The way you resisted breaking down in tears when you dropped that gallon of milk and it spilled down the front steps was really impressive.”

I don’t find motherhood to be thankless–my family is pretty good at thanking me for the work I do to keep their lives chugging along. It’s that I have never worked at anything with the intensity and focus with which I parent. I have never cared so much and tried so hard. And for the most part, that effort is invisible. I had coffee with a friend of mine a few weeks ago and she told me about a woman she met who said those very words about motherhood: “I feel invisible.”

So what do we–or at least I–do about this?

Caryn: Get over your fame whore-ness, is what you do, missy. As one woman once told me, “This isn’t about you; it’s about the kids. There’ll be time for you later.” So, what did I do with her little words of wisdom, totally trashed her in my book, thank you very much! Because I, too, am a fame whore. (I think this is one of the things that first bonded us, Carla. All those years ago….)

Anyway, I am also with you that I don’t think motherhood is “thankless.” That’s never been one of my gripes. Not even societally. I think people actually go annoyingly overboard in hyping the importance of moms (part of Carla’s whole “Cult of the Family” bit). And my own family is pretty good with the thanks. For the mom stuff.

The hard part is the stuff that’s invisible because we can’t use it or do it or get it made public enough. It’s the stuff of who we are, what we love to do, what we think is funny or sad or insulting or aggrevating. I mean, Facebook helps, but in our day-to-day lives as moms surrounded by little wonderful creatures who need us in big, actual, important ways (I’m in the middle of White Oleander—and finding it hard to read about motherless children and ignore the weight of our roles), it can be not only difficult to indulge in things worth watching or having people notice, but we feel like fools calling attention to ourselves. At least that’s my issue.

But we gotta get over that. I think we need to bring our moxie out of the realm of Facebook and blogs and into real, actual life. Say who we are. Do what we love. And yell, “Watch me!” every now and again. But not too often. Nobody likes a showoff.

P.S. Can we introduce “fameho” to the Rev lexicon? With motherjudger? As in, Don’t motherjudge the fameho. Or is it better two words?

Carla: I think two.

This is part of why working was good for my soul. It was nice to have someone say, “You turned this piece around–nice work” or “That’s a fantastic idea! Let’s run with it.” What can I say, I’m a girl who needs feedback.

So Revolutionaries, what do you wish someone watched you do today? What feat of strength and daring did you pull off that we need to know about?

Good Grief or Bad Grief?

Caryn: WARNING! DEPRESSING POST AHEAD! Our dog died on Friday. He was old (for a rottweiler) and ended up dying the way I’d been dreading. Well, I actually don’t know the way he died because I didn’t see it, but he died in the place I’d been dreading: on our kichen floor. Sprawled out stiff. Right in the middle of everything.

I don’t share this to depress any dog lovers or to gross anyone out (I actually left out the grossest details!), but because I think his death has some Revolutionary “application.” Obviously (at least to you dog-loving people), having a dog die rocks a family. We’ve lost a member, someone who’s normally here with us, ready to eat our pizza crusts, to nose our balloons, to (sometimes) greet us when we get home, to bark at us when he’s hungry. He went camping with us, he tromped in the backyard with the kids, and we walked together. All over the neighborhood. So now that he’s gone, life feels a bit wrong. We all get that.

But one of the things I know we don’t all “get” or agree on is the way we cope and deal with death and grief. When I got up on Friday morning, and saw Bladey lying still, at first I told my kids to stay where they were. If he were dying, I didn’t want them to come near. A sick dog—no matter how good a dog—can be a bitey thing.

But as soon as I realized he was already dead, I invited them over and broke the news. We woke up Rafi (my husband) and then all knelt around Blade’s body, petting him, kissing him, talking about death and what it means.

We cried together an talked about the role of spirit—and how our bodies aren’t really “us” as much we think. Then, hours later when the vet opened, we laughed together through some tears as Rafi and I carried our 100-lb-friend out to the car (if it weren’t so sad and gross, it would’ve been hilarious to see).

All this to say, it was a moment for our preaching the importance of frankness and honesty came into practice. I know a lot of familes who choose to shield their kids from the harshness of death and dead bodies and sorrow, but I don’t think it’s the right way to go. I’m not saying I take my kids on field trips to the morgue or have the watch gruesome documentaries, but as life happens—and ends—around us, we’ve always chosen to share that with the kids. For good and bad. And I think it helps them understand. At least I hope.

I know I did go overboard when they asked what we did with his body. I probably could’ve fibbed a bit and not gone into the whole cremation thing (now my 2-year-old keeps asking about the “big fire” and wanting to see it). That was a little hard for them to hear. But what else could I say? Lie? Tell them we were burying him? Instead, I told them we cremated dogs so they could become “compost”‘ (my kids are all really green) and that he’d fertilize the pet cemetary lawn and live on that way. Until we see him again in heaven, of course.

So sorry that this was so depressing. I just had to process this bit of family-ness. Comments?

Carla: I have found that my biggest issue when it comes to talking to my kids about these kinds of things is that they react in such different ways–different from me, different from each other, different from what I expect. I never know which one will be weepy and which one will be stoic. I don’t know who will want details and who will chafe at knowing too much. Like everything else in parenthood, it’s a total crapshoot.

Which is why I think dealing with grief is, like everything else in parenthood, a gut instinct. You just know that your kids need to see and touch their dog in order to process his death. You know that they need to hear what happens next so they don’t get lost imagining something terrifying. I think that’s good parenting.

At the same time, there are probably other parents who know their kids can’t handle the image of the stiff dog on the kitchen floor–we had our cat put to sleep when he was dying because we didn’t want the kids to come home from school one day and find him dead in the back of a closet (which is a whole different set of circumstances that you had, of course). So they figure out how to talk about the loss in a way that makes sense for them. At least I sure hope they talk about it.

Caryn: So true—about the crapshoot part. It’s why being in tune with who we are—as individuals, as moms, and as a family—is so important, I think. So we sort of know what to do in those random, unexpected moments. Good and bad. I don’t know. Anybody else?

 

What We Leave Behind

Carla: Last night my husband and I, along with my parents, saw Dave Brubeck in concert. The man is 88 years old and is arguably the greatest jazz musician alive. As I sat there with my parents, I thought about the incredible gift they have given me in instilling a love and appreciation for this legendary artist.

My parents are big jazz fans and we always had jazz music playing in the house. Every chance they had to see one of their favorites in concert, they bought tickets for all of us and we went. Mind you, I grew up in a small town and attending these concerts usually involved a 2-hour drive and often an overnight stay. Even when I was in high school, my parents would haul me along to shows by greats like Sarah Vaughan and Dizzy Gillespie and a much younger Dave Brubeck. I was often the only child in an audience of adults and I loved it. I loved the time with my parents, I loved the music, and I loved being in the presence of these great performers.

Last night, listening to music I’ve known for most of my life, sitting with the people who taught me to love it, got me thinking about the gifts I am giving my children. I wonder what treasures I am passing on to them. I don’t just mean the big-picture things like faith and love. I mean these little things that are part of our lives that the kids might not even notice right now but will thank us for one day. I wonder how they’ll fill in this blank: “My parents taught me to appreciate ______”

Maybe it will be “the woods.” My sweet husband was not outdoorsy when we met, but he has discovered a love for camping and has made camping with our kids a priority. So every summer, we hit the road at least twice to sleep on the ground and eat food with dirt in it. Our hope is not that our kids become expert campers, but that they learn to see the beauty of creation, that they find the same peace and contentment in the woods that we do.

Maybe it will be “community.” We have people in our house all the time. Sometimes they live here, sometimes they are here for dinner, sometimes they just pop in when they are out walking their dogs. Regardless of why they come or how long they stay, our friends–and their friends and so on and so on–make our lives better. We hope our kids pick up on the beauty of community, the joys and challenges that come from truly sharing life with other people.

Of course it’s just as likely it will be “show tunes.”

So much of what I learned from my parents happened simply because they included me in what they were interested in–theater, music, good food, books, Monty Python. They weren’t intentionally trying to teach me anything, just being themselves and inviting me into their lives.

Caryn: Oh, I love this topic (show tunes, the woods, yes!!). And I must tell this story. The other day I was looking through my son’s “take home folder” and sifting through his worksheets, etc. and I came across his Bible quiz (he goes to a Christian school, remember. No, our public schools don’t teach Bible here). Here was the question:

Jonah disobeyed God. Draw a picture or write about what happened to Jonah when he disobeyed.

My son’s answer: He got slurped up by a big fish.

SLURPED! I nearly squealed. My son—who is an incredible artist, so I’m surprised that he didn’t draw a picture—chose the word “slurped.” His word-loving teacher wrote “interesting word choice!” and put a smiley face next to it.

Darn tootin’ (in words my mom passed down to me) it’s an interesting word choice! But beyond that, I felt like such a roaring (another passed on word) success as a mom because one thing I’ve tried to pass on is a love of words. In English. In Spanish. Big ones. Little ones. Real ones. Made up ones. And here my son writes that Jonah got slurped. I’m still smiling.

Now, who knows what my son will do in life. But if he does it with wise word choices, I’m happy.

I think that’s what makes families so cool—that God plunks these kids into our lives and it’s our job to pass things on. Maybe they’ll grow up sharing our loves—our family’s love of debating issues, questioning, of politics and reading, of God, of animals—or maybe they’ll grow up rejecting some of it. But just that they’ve been exposed to our loves and loved during the ”exposing” is so awesome. It’s sort of a branding for families. What makes us special, unique.

Which brings me back to slurped. Note: On that same quiz, my son was also able to list two prophets God used to speak to Israel, which king was 7 when he was crowned and which one was told to destroy Ahab’s family and the Baals. But I’m less impressed. Anyone can know that (except I didn’t). But word choice is an art. Maybe even a family thing.

Carla: I love me a good word choice.

I was talking about this with my husband today and he thinks our kids are picking up goofiness from us. Considering I met him when he was playing the Church Lady in a skit, the chances are pretty good they will indeed learn a little bit about goofiness.

So Revs, how do you think your kids will answer the question: “My parents taught me to appreciate ______”?

Sustainable Motherhood

Carla: This is worth talking about.

It turns out that when it comes to the working mom/at-home mom conversation, we have been dealing with a “straw woman” of sorts. It seems to be news to the people who write the news that the majority of stay-at-home moms are there not because of some deep-seated value about the family but rather because economics sometimes make working a non-option.

I think this survey has the potential to be a conversation changer for women because it challenges the image of the stay-at-home mom, the one that has us pressed and dressed and busy and satisfied because, while we could have chosen to work, we love our children and don’t want to leave them in the care of strangers. The census survey suggests that far more women stay home out of necessity than out of moral superiority. Unless a second income (and we might need to do a whole other post on the problems with calling one person’s job a “second income” like it’s a slush fund) brings in enough money to cover childcare, the increase in taxes, transportation, and the expenses that come when all of the adults in the family are working all day (more meals out, hiring someone to clean the house, less time for bargain hunting, etc.) or it’s your life’s calling, it’s hardly worth it.

And this false image leaves all kinds of women out of the picture altogether–poor women, single parents, women with limited education, women with limited access to suitable childcare. That these are often the women staying home is the big news of this survey, but I know lots of the women reading this blog fall into at lease one of those categories. Many of these women might very well be home because they really want to be. But others want to be able to work, want to be able to finish a degree, want to do everything they can to build a better life for themselves and their children.

The reason that’s a problem is that when it comes to public policy about issues that impact families, the prevailing image wins. So policies get made with the assumption that women have health care, that if they need more money they can just go get jobs, that quality childcare is readily available and affordable. As long as that’s the person we think we’re talking about when we talk about at-home moms, we won’t really be able to move forward and create a culture in which women have real choices about how to support their families emotionally, physically, and financially.

Caryn: Of course, I too heard about this study—and had been meaning to write about it but I was too busy getting “pressed and dressed.” NOT! (Great image, Carla. Nice one.)

But I loved how this study shattered the image of the at-home mom, why we’re here, what we look like, what language we speak.

In fact, my own decision to “stay home” had a lot to do with economics. Still does. Since non-profit Christian publishing pays less than just about any other profession on the planet, when I was pregnant with my oldest son, it wasn’t too difficult to see that my salary wouldn’t cover all those things you mention.

But where you lose me, Carla, is when you start talking about “public policies.” You know those words make me itch and twitch when I’m pressed and dressed. Because I think you’d like to see all sorts of social programs spring up to give free or cheap or paid-for-by-rich-people childcare and (whatever else to make it easier on moms to work if they want to. I’d love to see programs like this pop up—run by churches and non-profits. But the government having their hands in this, you know, gives me the heebs.) (Note: Isn’t it nice that my husband is RUNNING FOR OFFICE and I show such public disdain for the government…. Think is a problem?)

And clearly, we need to CUT taxes on working families. Give us HUGER deductions for our massive health care bills. Stop taxing our food, our wine (please), our cars, our pizza, our parking.

And what I’d REALLY like to see is instead of mandating all sorts of rules and regulations that companies have to abide by regarding maternity leave and family-friendly policies and the like for moms everywhere to boycott companies with crap policies, give our patronage to family-friendly businesses, and, really, have us start our own businesses, make our own rules.

It’s still a man’s world, baby. Let’s make it a mom’s world. That’s how we create that culture where motherhood is not only sustainable but flourishes. So sayeth the weirdo Libertarian Feminist.

Carla: This is the sort of thing that’s going to come back to bite you when you’re running for president .(Would a libertarian run for president? I don’t understand you people at all.)

I don’t think public policy should necessarily be relegated to the government–local, state, or federal–but it seems like that’s often where these sorts of decisions play out. It took the federal government to ensure that a woman can stay in the hospital for more than 12 hours after she has a baby and that her job can’t be taken away if she takes a maternity leave. It would be incredible if the church or non-profits had that kind of power and influence.

At the same time, I’m totally with you that we can be agents of justice by asking questions, setting aside assumptions, pushing for change, and putting our money where our values are. And really, that’s what I’m getting at here. The Mommy Revolution isn’t just about the airing of grievances, it’s about making life sustainable for all mothers regardless of their circumstances. So what can we be doing–what kind of things are we doing–that help make life better for other moms. Big picture, grassroots, small steps, whatever it is, please share your ideas!

 

The Highs and Lows

Caryn: How do I put this delicately? Ummm…….Well, today has sucked. Sucked. Sucked. Big time.

My kids are off school. It’s cold and rainy.  My kids have been fighting because they’re bored and cooped up. None of us feel great, but aren’t quite sick. I’m depressed that I can’t just curl up in bed and be left alone so I can read The Bell Jar, which I started to reread yesterday. And, I admit, I’m a little bummed that we don’t have the dough to take a little jog somewhere warm or pretty or fun like so many of my son’s schoolmates seem to be doing over fall break.

This is the kind of day where it takes every last ounce of energy to make it through (see our last post where I smugly admit I was in a better “season”)–where honestly I kinda hate being a mom. Which is so weird because just YESTERDAY was so freaking fantastic. Yesterday was a total “I love being a mom!” day if there ever was one.

The weather was ridiculously perfect (68 degrees, sunny, slight, slight warm breeze, crispy leaves, hello, what’s not to love!), and my kids and I used their half-day to run to the library, play outside, jump in leaves, read together…. Honestly. It was a great day.

So today—as I’ve wondered what’s gone wrong (ugh! rain)—I can’t help but think that it’s these wild life-fluctuations that make being a mom (and I suppose a dad) so totally crazy. It’s why we feel like we are going to lose our minds. Because, honestly, these drastic highs and lows do this to us.

I don’t know what my point is here (please don’t worry. I’m NOT going all Sylvia Plath on anybody)—except to wonder if anybody else senses this same thing. That maybe motherhood would be easier or saner if were just somehow more level, if our lives were less manic and depressive…… I dunno.

Carla: There must be something in the air. One of my friends posted on her FB today that she kind of wants to just pull the covers over her head and wake up to a new life. She wondered if anyone else ever felt that way and there was a resounding, unanimous “Yes!” vote from the Facebook sisterhood.

It is amazing how quickly our lives can go from manageable and even enjoyable to overwhelming and crappy. Sometimes it’s because someone is sick or it’s raining or plans fall through, but often there is no real reason for the depressive part of the bipolar parenting cycle. It just comes along one morning and is in no hurry to go away.

I wonder, though, if it’s not really a cycle at all. It’s a game of whiplash where you can be coasting along just fine and then Wham! you get pulled off your feet by the sheer force of the endless responsibility. Personally, I can have a long stretch of great days and then, out of nowhere, comes a hard one, the kind where I think one more demand is going to send me running for the open road. I know it’s getting bad when I see a TV show that involves prison and I think, That doesn’t look so bad. You get a bed to yourself, there’s nothing to do all day, and someone feeds you.

I suppose the real struggle is accepting that this is just life. It doesn’t matter if the hard part is parenthood or work or marriage or loneliness or school or friendship. Being human means having difficult days where we long to be anywhere else doing anything else than what’s being asked of us.

Helpful, aren’t I?

Mother’s Little Helper

Carla: Caryn and I spent an incredible weekend at Christianity 21 and I for one am still so overwhelmed by it all I’m not sure I can write about it yet. Hopefully we’ll be able to connect some dots in the coming days and put words around this amazing experience.

For now, however, I am trying to re-enter my daily life. Today was particularly hard. I am exhausted–in a good way–from the weekend and just want to lay on the couch and process and imagine and nap. But of course that’s not happening–far from it. Precious child #3 woke up at 5:30 ready to eat breakfast. I convinced her to climb in bed and snuggle instead, but that lasted about 15 minutes. She began to get rather vocal about her hunger so we got up in the dark, she ate, I tried not to be bitter, and we got back in bed for a few minutes before the rest of the household woke up and began the day in earnest. Now I’m extra tired and there’s no respite in sight.

We’ve all had days like this, days that for whatever reason start too early, end too late, are too full, are too dull, are soul-sucking or mind-blowing or crazy-making. So what I want to know is, what’s your secret for moving through days that seem endless? Whether it’s something that helps you stay calm, something that perks you up, something that maintains your sanity, or something that brightens the dark corners of motherhood, I want to know what it is.

My list includes–but is not limited to–the following: Diet Coke (although I have given it up for the most part, today was a DC day if ever there was one), a new magazine (I might only get to read it in snippets in the bathroom, but it makes me happy just the same), a plan for dinner, chai tea, peanut butter M&Ms (seriously, these are coated in crack), and my daily dose of wellbutrin. A glass of wine helps, too, but I try to keep the bottle closed until at least 5 p.m..

What’s on your list?

Caryn: Since kicking the DC habit last Lent, I still won’t buy it for the house (though I do drink it socially—you know the drill). So now my vices are confined to my newly acquired coffee addiction, my afternoon tea (don’t think anything elegant here), and the occasional glass of wine (which I used to drink out on the front porch until 1.] I realized I looked like the neighborhood drunk and 2.] It started to get cold).

But, honestly, the things that really keeps me from losing my mind are baby carrots and a good book. Seriously. This is what a dork I am. I go through a bag of the carrots at least every couple days. I crave the crunch like you wouldn’t believe. When I run out, I just about lose my mind. It’s weird.

And the book thing—well—that’s how I escape my life. If I’m not in the middle of a good one, again, that mind-losing thing happens. (Right now I’m trying to get into Anne Tyler’s Accidental Tourist. So far it’s my least favorite of her books. If you must know.)

But I must say—I’m in a better place motherhood-wise right now (Lord knows how long it will last!) than I was, say, a few months ago. So, it’s easier for me to sort of rely on the carrots and books to get me through the craziest days. But when I read an article in this weekend’s Chicago Tribune on the upswing of alcoholism among mothers like us, let’s just say I totally understood why. It ain’t easy.

You Think You’ve Got Problems!

Carla: The other day I saw one of my favorite Monty Python sketches in which four men reminisce about their youth, each one trying to best the others’ tales of woe. It reminded me of something that happens too often among mothers–reverse bragging. In fact, I did it myself yesterday.

I was at the orthodontist with my 12-year-old and the assistant–are they called hygienists at the orthodontist?–asked me if I was going crazy with the hormone shifts of my preteen. It turns out she has a 12-year-old, too, and is dealing with the head-spinning mood swings that come with puberty (and no, my daughter was not in the room during this conversation). I nodded my head a lot and offered looks of commiseration. I gave a few laughs that said, “Oh sister, I’ve so been there!” But the truth is I haven’t.

I have to say, my daughter is a pretty even-keeled kid. Of course she’s had her moments and I’m certain there will be more as she moves fully into her teens, but so far, she has been pretty easy–even delightful–to live with. So why would I act like she was a moody mess when she isn’t? So that this other mom wouldn’t feel bad about her life.

I actually find myself in lots of conversations in which moms aren’t bragging about their children’s accomplishments but rather bemoaning their failings. And then the one-upmomship begins–”You think that’s bad….” and pretty soon we’re living in a paper bag down mill (watch the Python clip and you’ll get that).

In some ways, this is progress for motherhood. It means we aren’t afraid of telling the truth, that the cathartic act of telling other parents about the crazy things our children do helps relieve the shame or the guilt or the frustration. And that’s all good. But maybe we need to find some middle ground where we can be honest about the good and the bad.

I think I can be supportive without painting my own child in an unflattering light–especially when it’s a false light. I can tell another mom that parenthood is no picnic without my problems having to outweigh hers. And I can certainly listen and let another mom vent without inserting myself into the conversation with confessions that are really meant to make me feel better.

Caryn: Read you loud and clear on this one. It’s a common trap—in our desire to connect and relate and not come across as total motherjudgers (a word I’m totally trying to get into the lexicon)—one I’ve fallen into many a time in my motherhood.

But every time I have, I’ve also had little internal alarm bells go off for another reason. Ever since my stint at Marriage Partnership magazine, where every third article was about the dangers of public husband-bashing, these alarms have rung now and again. They started ringing for new reasons when I had kids.

I think in our haste to connect we can not only tell fish tales—as you so wickedly did—but we can also kid-bash. While it’s good to commiserate with other moms about the horrors of mommyhood, it’s also important that we protect our kids a bit. Respect their privacy and their right to behave badly without the world knowing.

Of course, the problem is when kids have mothers who are writers and kind of tell their stories for a “living.” Oh, Carla. What do we do?

Carla: You’re totally right (you might want to copy and paste that somewhere since it’s not likely I’ll say it again any time soon). There has to be some third way between acting like our lives are perfect and trashing our kids for the sake of connection. Maybe what we need to do is take the focus off the kids altogether and talk about our own struggles, our fears, our questions, our concerns. Instead of letting the hygienist think that my girl is an emotional wreck, I could have said, “It’s a lot of work, isn’t it?” or “I’m never really sure what to do at any given moment, either.” Because really, that’s what she wanted–someone to let her know she’s not the only one who feels overwhelmed now and then.