Mommy has Homework too

Last week as I was trying to squeeze in a blog post for the week, I pulled out my laptop at the dining table while Caitlin did her homework. We were chatting, me kind of chatting, because when the word strikes you, you type, when she stopped and said,

“Mommy, can you stop typing?”

Cue the dreaded mommy guilt.

I get it. I’ve been working a lot since my promotion and this is all new to them and this family as a whole. Especially Caitlin who was born to a mother too damn anxious to do more than one thing at a time. But as she grew, I grew too. I grew into a multi tasker and a writer and a kind of okay cook. I grew to be less anxious, and with time I became braver. All the things that I needed to get me to here. A full time working mom, who is still trying to launch a writing career; run a girl scout troop; be a good wife; and be a kick ass mother. But I can tell she is pretty confused at how her crazy, scatterbrained, fumbling mom, could pull any of that off.

So as the mommy guilt settled in I replied,

“Mommy has homework too”.

I went on to explain that mommy still wants to write stories on her blog. That her new job is important, kind of like school is important for her. But there are still other things that mommy wants to do, and in order to do them, I have homework. Still pushed the laptop to the side and helped her with word problems, which in my opinion are ridiculous. Who cares how many apples Sally has in comparison to Bobby, and who cares if Sally gives them to Issac so how many does Jill have? Tell me that is not an honest assessment of word problems. I helped and discussed and even joked about word problems and we made up a few of our own. Then I gave both girls a bath, and Caitlin read a story to us, and then I read a story to them, and finally when they were asleep and in bed, I picked my laptop back up.

There will always be the internal struggle of am I doing this right, am I devoting enough of me and my time to this mothering life. There will always be that voice in the back of my head that says, “give up this blog”, “you have more important things to do than type away at this keyboard”, but I know, deep down that the voice is wrong. There are a million mothers who work and mother and write or blog or dance or cook or run million dollar empires. That is life. And even if many mothers I know aren’t running million dollar empires, they are running family empires of their own, with brilliant and well rounded children, happy husbands, and sometimes the occasional Etsy shop. Some of them home school, some of them coach dance, some of them volunteer for their churches. Every mother has that internal struggle of how much time can I give, and how much can I take for myself?

A wise friend once told me that taking time for myself would make me a better mother. I can jive with that. There is some truth there. Taking time for yourself is so important. We tend to sacrifice ourselves and our time. Like I’ve written about, I’ve been doing things for motherhood for awhile. But recently I’ve been doing things for me, more and more. In the beginning, this blog was my escape, my therapy, my little slice of Megan. Then it grew into something more. It’s a major accomplishment that I”m still writing it, somewhat daily after almost four years. I’m quite proud of that.

But even with pride comes the guilt. The nights I should be doing any number of things, but instead I’m writing. Typing away as the kids play and eat chips and watch terrible television. I recently saw an old episode of Grey’s Anatomy and it was one where Meredith had just adopted Zola. And of course as any new mother knows, holding on to your old life and trying to do you new one is damn right impossible. So there she was, dropping Zola off at Callie and Arizona’s again, and she meets Callie at the door with tears in her eyes. It’s what Callie says that struck me most. She said something like, “no, no, no. Don’t. Don’t do that. It’s good for her to see you work. It’s good for her to see YOU”. That stuck with me. No matter your work, it’s good for your children to see you do it. It shows them that you are more than just mom, you are a person. Kids need to see that. They also need to see that we make mistakes. Because mistakes are okay, as long as we learn from them. So while we may be inundated with guilt, it’s good for them to see us work. It’s good for them to see us commit. It’s good for them to see us fail, to see us get up and try again, to see us work so hard toward that end goal, no matter what it may be.

Even today as I try to squeeze in time to write, while the laundry tumbles and the kids eat grilled cheese, I’m working on me. This is my homework. Even if it has little to do with my day job, it has everything to do with my all the time job, which is being a mother. So while I try to eliminate word problems from my life (because I don’t care how many candies Joey has), I’ll keep reminding myself and my girls that mommies have homework too. Because even after all this time, I’m still working on me.

In the Name of Motherhood

Seven year old birthday parties are just as loud as you'd expect.

A few weeks ago I spent my Friday night at a birthday party full of seven year old kids. It was as loud and ear drum shattering as you would imagine. Boys and girls giggling and screaming and playing tag in the middle of the birthday girls living room. Music and movies blasting at movie theater decibels. And there I was, one of the lone parents, sitting and talking as our kids ate movie food and chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.

Most of the parents dropped of their kids. We, unfortunately are not there yet. My seven year old still wants mom to be visible in a strangers home, and I can’t blame her. This was our first time at the birthday girls home, her parents and siblings are wonderful. The other parents in attendance were my kind of people. The kind who look the other way when double chocolate cake is served right after the movie style candies that were passed around less than an hour before. It’s not that it wasn’t fun, it’s just that it wasn’t my idea. My idea was to have gone home after working my six in the morning shift and put on yoga pants and lay on my couch. Maybe write a little, most likely read something, or even better catch up on my DVR. Instead, there I was, doing my best for motherhood.

It’s what we do as mothers. We do all things in the name of motherhood. We forgo showers and hot dinners. We never eat the last (insert treat that the kids will cry buckets for if they are gone here). We always eat last, no matter the occasion (even our birthdays). We go to bed last and get up first. We get that overnight feeding, that lost paci, the much needed cough suppressant at two a.m. We do all these kinds of things for motherhood. For our children, and in the name of being good mothers.

We also smile. And lie. We say things are “fine”, and that we are “wonderful”. We say and pretend that motherhood is everything we ever wanted. When the truth is our children are everything we ever wanted, but motherhood kind of sucks. Our children are amazing and beautiful and fulfilling. First feedings and bonding and snuggles are amazing. Night waking, sleep training and being shit on, are not. So instead of admit that not everything is glorious, we lie. We smile. And we do it all for motherhood.

We also do it for our children. I stayed at that birthday party because I knew it was what Caitlin wanted. And if she is ten and still wants me to hang out at some kids birthday party, well I guess I’ll chill at that one too. I’ll always make sure that we buy the right waffles, even if it requires the extra trip to Walmart. I’ll make sure the crusts are cut off even though I swore I would never be a crust cutter. I’ll still forgo a shower to get them to school on time, I’ll eat a cold dinner so that they are fed on time and before they melt down. I’ll continue to play musical beds every night, because one child climbs in and one adult leaves then another child climbs in and another adult leaves and then the kids come looking for us, and so on. I’ll even give them my last organic fruit juiced sweetened three dollars a quart lemonade from Whole Foods, even if it’s the only kind I can drink, even if it’s over a half an hour trip to Whole Foods, even if all I really want is some lemonade. Because I’m their mother. And as far as I know that’s what good mothers do.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a saint and I’m not always self sacrificing. I’ll choose Greys Anatomy marathons over trips to the park any day. I’ll also be the first to ask if I can “drop” off my kids at a party. But sometimes the things I do for motherhood pan out. I’ve made new mom friends. I’ve seen my daughter blossom and make friends. I’ve even met some pretty cool kids. Doing things for motherhood has taught me a lot about myself. It’s made me braver. It’s made me care less about things like make up and designer handbags. It’s made me realize that the rewards are always greater than the sacrifices. So we play musical beds, so I have to eat last sometimes, so I may or may not have clean hair. My life isn’t perfect. It doesn’t have to be, as long as what I’m doing is right for my kids.

I may not do all the things, and most days I may only do one thing, but for the sake of my children, I do them for motherhood.

Mornings are Hard

 **Note: I wrote this post last Thursday. I had a goal of writing every day this month, whether I published it or not, and I got as far as Thursday. But this is a new week, and I'm back on the wagon, and I'm hoping that by writing every day it will get me into a better practice as a writer and a blogger. So hang in there. There may be a few posts like this one. 

Just some thoughts on a random day.

 

Mornings are hard. Some days I think that even if I got up at four a.m., we would still be running late. We are always running late. Unless I do something smart like prep lunches the night before, or not shower. Showering seems to derail everything.

This morning was a series of follies. Today is picture day, and while I was sure to get the packet filled out, the envelope in the right backpack, and a check in said envelope, I sure wasn’t prepared for how long it would take to get a seven year old ready for pictures. And of course I had to shower. I actually had a moment where I thought about letting it go one more day, but my hair. My hair could lie no longer. My hair is always a dead giveaway.

I thought I was smart about picture day. We picked out our outfit, hair bow, shoes and jewelry last night. We talked about the kind of hairstyle we wanted. Bear ears? No. Half up half down? Maybe. Headband? No. We talked about getting up a little earlier so we would have more time. We talked about being helpful and not losing our tempers and what not, as the morning would be hectic. Then we went to bed. Correction, the kids went to bed and I stayed up and wrote, talked to the Hubbs, and read articles on Huffington Post that I hate because I should have written them myself. Am I the only writer who does that?

Of course I overslept my alarm. Of course I had to shave my legs because it had been almost a week and depending on the weather today, I may have to wear capris. And also my arm pits. I think that the reason we don’t have world peace and Pinterestly perfect homes is because we ladies are too busy shaving our arm pits. And legs too if we are honest. My point is, Mommy had already blew the schedule. But my daughter persevered and was dressed and ready for hair on time. Hair took longer than expected, because she has a lot of it. Add in Miss Mac who always wants just five more minutes to sleep and we are looking at a ten to fifteen minute time delay. Then the necklace we originally picked just wouldn’t do, and there were lunches and snacks to pack, and OMG where is that sweater, that other hair bow. Then I hear Caitlin crying because as she was trying to get something in her closet she punched herself in the face. Ugh. I know what that's like and it’s a mixture of pissed because you punched yourself in the face and ouch because it really effing hurts. And we were so close to a tear free morning.

With tears dried and shoes on, we were just about to get our back packs and the little one yells, I HAVE TO POOP!!!  Which means that I’m going to have to drop everything to wipe.  One day, one day very soon, everyone in this house will wipe their own ass. I can see that light. I was sad to see bottles and pacifiers go. I was sad to see onesies go, and even footed pajamas. But diapers and ass wiping?… Good bye, good riddance, it’s been real.

I can tell you that everyone was at school on time. With minutes to spare. Our hair was perfect for picture day. Butts were wiped in record time. Everyone had the snack of their choice, drink of their choice, back packs ready to go. Everyone went to school with a smile, maybe a wobbly smile, but a smile.

I spent the remainder of my morning in Trader Joe’s, then enjoyed my breakfast, which was hot and uninterrupted. Then I took to the keyboard to write a little. It made me feel better and whole, and like not all mornings are the follies we think they are.

Friday Funnies {Insta round up}

Lately because I haven't had a lot of time or motivation to write, I've been on Pinterest looking for things that make me laugh. Then I post them to Instagram because I feel like you need to see them too. So Happy Friday my friends. 

Harry Potter memes are always funny. And this makes my life now that "Dean" is on How to Get Away with Murder. Yeah, that's Dean y'all. So now when I do the recap with the bestie on Fridays, we both refer to him as Dean. He will always be Dean.

Thank you Time Hop. This was the best. My day was totally ILLLL after this popped up.

 Grammar jokes will always be funny. Always.

I told you. Side note and fun fact, the rest of this picture says, "The kind like Grammar used to make". I laughed. For a really long time.

I'm pretty sure this is how I look in a bikini. I can guarantee it's how I look in my underwear. Do you let your kids watch Clarence on Cartoon Network. I may be red flagging myself as a horrible parent with horrible television morals, but this kid is effing hilarious. We love Clarence over here. So when I saw this I just knew I had to post this. I totally saw myself.

I'm pretty sure this is a vagina. Like 99.9% positive that this is a vajay costume. It is an actual costume of "Cotton Candy" posted with a tutorial on Pinterest. I'm not going to link to it for a few reasons. One, this is someones kid. Two, this mom was probably super proud of this easy DIY Halloween Costume. Three, I don't want the person to know that I called this a vagina costume. But let's be honest. This kid is gonna grow up one day and realize that this was not Cotton Candy. This was a giant vagina, fully dialated and crowning. 

I'm telling you Harry Potter memes are my jam. The last one listed broke me. Absolutely broke me. 
 

I actually pinned this for a friend of mine who gets a lot of flack for being a fabulous person. If I'm being honest she is a hard working mama who is making the world a better place. So I pinned this shit for her because she is paying her bills and not a single eff is being given. Go girl. Get that shit.

Authentic Weather App has changed my life. This is from the Fresno State/Nebraska game and it was 100 degrees at kick off at seven in the evening. It was miserable and humid and there were so many sweaty people it was sick. Then I pulled up the weather. Amazing.

My kid's got some comedic timing let me tell you.

This is the card my father bought my mother for their 40th wedding anniversary. Never fails every year he gets her a kick ass card. And she always forgets to get him a card. 

Hey, if you want follow me on Pinterest. I promise you will love my LMAO board. 

I use Google for my kid's Homework {Millennial Moms}

I just Googled my kids homework. I'm not even kidding. That is what full time work has reduced me to... A pile of mush.

Why are there so many instances in a day that you can be just be a complete failure at things? I mean, I worked all day today, and had a really excellent day at work. Then I came home to the second shift and I feel like I've failed at every turn. Maybe I'm tired, maybe I'm just annoyed, maybe it's because I can't remember the last time I cooked a real meal for my kids. And why does that feel like it's still my responsibility?

Why didn't any of you working moms tell me the truth about second shift? The shift you clock into when you leave your away from home job and start your at home job? You know the one where the school spirit shirt that your daughter is supposed to wear the next day is still in the laundry basket from last week? And of course she can't wear regular clothes because she will be for sure the only kid not in an ugly neon green school spirit shirt? Why didn't you working moms tell me that I needed to buy two? And why didn't you tell me that at some point both would be dirty, and the whole reason for two shirts would go out the window?

Not that any of that has happened... And also side note: why on God's green earth do we need special mid week school spirit shirts? Is it just to make failures out of ordinarily good mothers?

Second shift is for the birds. The first time I heard the term it was on a documentary about the women's movement, and some feminists that were working outside of the home in the seventies were talking about first shift (work) and second shift (at home work). Little did they know back then that second shift for us millennial moms was going to be so damn chaotic. Gone are the days of letting our kids play until the street lights come on. Gone are the days of latch key kids. Gone are the days of store bought, box made cupcakes and cookies, store bought Halloween costumes at the Fall festival, and the simple carving of pumpkins. Those seventies feminists are laughing at us as we struggle to do all the things. In their day, having a job and a child were more than enough. In fact they were a success.

In case you are wondering, I had a working mom, and she did a lot. She did make cakes from scratch, but only three times a year. She trimmed a magnificent Christmas tree each year with what we had. She bought whatever Halloween costume of my desire, and if I wanted something impossible, she found someone to make it. For years she brought home a bunny cake at Easter that had black jelly bean eyes, a furry coat of shredded coconut, and perfect paper ears sticking out the side of its head. Did she slave away in her time off from her full time job to make that beloved bunny cake? Hell no. She ordered out. Still, I loved it all. Every store bought treat, every department store Halloween costume, every single bunny cake made by someone else's mom. It never bothered me a bit. And perhaps she had some second thoughts about her job as a mother, but at the time she was a working mother among many. Everyone brought box mix cupcakes to the bake sale back then. No one questioned a single hand iced cupcake.

How funny, in my motherhood that the tables have turned so drastically. Today it's not enough for me to work, or for me just to stay home. Today I have to work, and "stay home", and make my mantle look like I own a pumpkin patch using scrap book paper and left over jelly jars. It's not enough to bake butterscotch brownies from scratch for the bake sale, sign over your Friday afternoons for the PTC, and make sure that you make it to the fabric store after a nine hour day at the office so you can start that Halloween costume you swore you weren't going to make. It's not enough. These days it seems it's never going to be enough.

But, this year it has to be. This year box mix cakes and Halloween costumes from Costco have to be enough. Because this is the first year that I won't be the room mother. The first year that I won't work at Snack Shack. It's the first year that I almost forgot picture day. The year I forgot to take the jog-a-thon money on the right day for the right prizes. It's the first year that I'm not on top of things one hundred percent. And that has to be ok. The fact that I can get both kids to school and me to work fully dressed, hair done, and make up, is enough. In fact it's the biggest feat of my mothering life. The fact that I can pack lunches and make breakfast and get both kids in the car before seven forty five is enough. More than that it's a win. The fact that I'm writing this post, on Wednesday night, while second shift is in full force, is enough.

Sooner or later us millennial moms are going to have to get smart and say to hell with it. To hell with the fall decorations, and the cake pops that look like ghosts, and the hand made Elsa dresses. At some point we have to say, it's enough. What I've got, what I've done, what I'm doing it's enough. Because it has to be enough. Even if enough means McDonald's for the third night in a row, or grilled cheese again, or even powdered donuts for breakfast. I've got my kids, I've got my husband, I've got my sanity (sort of). And that's plenty. 

I just Googled my kids homework. It's what millennial moms do. In fact it's the mark of success for millennial moms. Trust me.