Short story long: Hi again!

I've missed it here.

I know, I know. I keep saying that, but doing absolutely nothing about it. It's just (prepare yourself, many excuses ahead) that time gets away from me, you know?

I'm working from home now for a marketing company. Have I told you that? Can't remember. But it's awesome. I'm incredibly lucky.

However, I only have around 6 hours to myself a day. Don't throw things at me, but I never feel like I have enough time to get all of my life stuff done. Like - I can either clean the house or write a press release. Or make and sell jewelry in my Etsy shop, which is doing steady business. Or write a column for the newspaper. Or sew something. Or post things to a client's website. Or knit a few rows on a sweater or some socks. Or meet with a colleague to discuss Very Important Work Things.

So things are full. My days are full. Sewing and knitting is pushed back to make room for all the other commitments that other people need me to do.

And before I know it, 2:15 is here and so is the bus carrying my daughter home. And then I deal with my daughter refusing to actually get off the bus by pretending to be asleep. And then demanding snacks and my time and also probably yelling at me for doing something stupid like getting her water instead of kombucha (hippie).

And then my son is back, also demanding snacks but usually in a better mood than his hell-raising sister. And then there's homework, which Sebastian usually does fine and that his sister melts down over. And then a bit of free time, where, since my children have gotten into origami Star Wars stuff, I'm asked to find MORE PAPER AND SCISSORS AND WHERE IS THE STAPLER AND MOM CAN YOU JUMP ON THE TRAMPOLINE WITH US?

No. The answer is always no. That's because I've birthed two children.

Then dinner and soccer practice or religion or a soccer game and then I am so very, very exhausted but the children still want to stay up and WHY WON'T YOU GO TO BED WITHOUT A FIGHT, ADELE?

But my point, after quite a few paragraphs of rambling, is that there is no time for anything, especially not for navel-gazing in the form of blog writing.  But navel-gazing is fun! I miss it! So I'm going to attempt, once again, to show up here a few times a week.

Even if none reads this, even if it's just for myself, I will attempt to put a few words down in this blank box. It's good for my mind, good for my typing fingers, and good for my sanity because I can pretend like I am talking to all sorts of friends who are nodding in agreement with whatever ridiculous thing I've just said (written).

Because you all totally get me, right?

See you tomorrow.

Here is a picture of my ridiculous attempt at a family selfie on our canoe trip a few weeks ago.

Motherhood & More: Silence is golden, but I miss my babies*

My days are child-free. For six hours a day, every weekday, for the first time since I had children, I am at home alone, regularly.

It’s … odd. And quiet.

I’m able to work uninterrupted, forming complete thoughts without the incessant tone of whatever ridiculous television program the kids are watching. I actually can generate an entire sentence without stopping to play another game of Candyland or another game of “where did my daughter run off to, now?”

My house stays clean for longer than 15 minutes and I can keep up with dirty dishes.

I don’t find random half-eaten snacks under the couch or rotten cups of milk. I don’t spend all of my days explaining that sure, fighting is completely normal, but let’s try not to draw blood, OK?

I work. I have made some time to sew. I make jewelry to sell. I knit. I work some more. I perform household chores.  I wait for the kids to get off the bus. I drink my coffee. I clean the house. I work even more.

I’m incredibly, wonderfully lucky to have the opportunities I have. I can work and contribute and learn and grow and use my mad word skills.

But it’s quiet. I can form complete sentences without interruption. I’m not playing Candyland or refereeing or pitching the baseball endlessly to the two batters who never let me hit. I’m not riding bikes in the driveway or looking at fossils with a magnifying glass.

And I miss all of it.

I’m not working to the endless background noises of annoying kid shows. I’m not cleaning up food or one more drink spill in the living room, even though drinks aren’t actually allowed there.
It’s so, so quiet. Peaceful, yes. But also a bit too peaceful. I’m a bit too alone and goodness I do love to be alone.

I know I will need to become used to this, just like everything else. It’s a new situation, one I haven’t experienced before. I am a homebody, most definitely. And yet I also need to make sure I interact with people, adults, at least sporadically.

In a way I feel like being here, being alone, is somehow not natural. I am not supposed to have this much time to myself, because, for the past seven years I haven’t. Since I became Mama, almost every thought, every day, every hour has been spent on my kids.

OK, maybe that’s not entirely accurate and a bit of an exaggeration, but it’s still partly true. This is the first time in a long time I’ve been able to be at home alone for this amount of time. I need to learn how to be me, without them.

It’s pretty cool, yes. But, oh, do I miss my babies. My smart, wild, annoying, funny, time-consuming, not-really-babies-anymore babies.

*This column originally published in The News-Enterprise on August 26, 2015.

(This is my 500th post. I probably should have something a bit more special than this column, but this is what I got. Hopefully I'll be more motivated to come back to this space soon. I miss it, and I have so much stuff to show you - lots of sewing and knitting and whatnot - heavy on the whatnot.)

Motherhood & More: Finding a balance between work and play*

I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to survive with my children home for the summer.

I always say that. Every year. And every year we do fine, with mishaps here and there, fights and squabbles and whining. Normal, everyday stuff.

It’s just, I never know what to do with them.

Going places every day isn’t an option. Also, my kids aren’t the best behaved in public places. I have a runner, who has been a runner since she was able to run. So I still am overwhelmed when I leave the house by myself with both kids. I am working on that myself and still (always) working on the behavior of the runner.

But I vow to get out more. We are members at the local gym/pool and so I see a lot of that sort of thing in our future. Free childcare while I run on a treadmill most definitely will draw me in. And also both kids now can swim without floaties, so it will be easier to take them to the pool by myself. And maybe now that they’re older I can relax a bit, too.

And of course there’s always the library. And maybe the zoo.

But there still will be many hours and full days where we spend our time at home. And I’m not the best with developing activities for them to do. A large part of me believes they need to discover that themselves. Absolutely I will facilitate and play with them when I can. But I think they need to make things up themselves, to create their own games.

Added to all of this, for the first time, I also will be working part time from home. It’s going to be a struggle not to just set them in front of the television or a tablet so I can work. And, honestly, that probably will happen many, many times.

My kids don’t do so well with a bunch of screen time, though. They usually start acting out and generally being little meanies to each other and to me.

So I will have to write out complete sentences and thoughts in between games of Go Fish and perform research while also making lunches and kissing booboos and cleaning up the endless Legos strewn about.

Oh, I can’t wait. I’m so, so excited. Thrilled, even. Ecstatic. And every other hyperbolic adjective I can come up with. I’ve always wanted to work from home doing something I loved and somehow I was lucky enough to get just that.

But I’m also terrified of my children being home from school for the summer. I don’t know quite how I’m going to manage having my kids home all day, every day while still producing quality work. I suspect there will be a lot of late nights in my future and a lot of begging for help from friends and relatives.

And in between all of that, maybe we’ll have a bit of fun and create some lasting memories.

And hopefully they are good memories and not ones of me yelling at them to go play outside so I can get some work done.

I can’t wait.

*This column originally published in The News-Enterprise on May 27, 2015.

Motherhood & More: Loss provides gift of time*

I’ve recently been gifted extra time at home.

I say ‘gifted’ because for the past while I have been sad and upset about the loss of my job, but I would like to stop being quite so negative because it’s bumming me and everyone around me out. So, thus, I am focusing on what I gained instead of what I lost.

I gained more time to be available for my children. I can cook more and bake more and spend more time getting household work finished during the day so that when the kids are home I can pay more attention to them. I can volunteer more at their school. I do not have to worry about summer childcare.

I’ve gained more time to work on our wood floors, which we have been in the process of refinishing for a few weeks now. This means that they will be done sooner and my house will be put back in order sooner, and my brain also will be put back in order sooner because it doesn’t like it when the house is in this much disarray. A little bit is ok. What we are living with is ridiculous.

I’ve gained more time to focus on things I enjoy, such as sewing for myself or the kids, and making jewelry for my Etsy shop, or knitting because everyone needs wool hats right before summer. And maybe, possible, I will sew things to sell, as well. Anybody need a dress?

Or I can write more for enjoyment rather than employment. I can focus more on being a creative person, which is where I find the most joy. Maybe I’ll attempt to write a book.

Nevermind. Books scare me. Maybe I’ll write a short story.

I can have more time for running. Running makes my body hurt but keeps my mind from self-combusting, so when I don’t have time or motivation I feel worse. And then I don’t run because I feel worse. And I feel worse because I don’t run. Vicious circle and all that. So I can be better about running most days, and be stronger for it, mentally and physically.

I can plan more things to do with the kids, other than just letting them watch television until dinner time. I can have actual activities to keep them entertained until they beg to watch television.

So. Good thoughts. Budget cuts are a horrible thing to the people they affect and I am not the only person this has ever happened to. I have wallowed for a while but am working on my attitude. I will find another job, but in the mean time I plan on enjoying not working.

Because not working can be awesome. Just look at all I’ve gained.

(P.S. I've gotten freelance work since this was written. So nevermind!)

*This column originally published in The News-Enterprise on April 22, 2015.

It will get better

I try not to complain.  I really do.  Or rather, I may complain but I hope it's in such a way that people know I'm generally not a negative person and don't let my complaints ruin my outlook on life.

But this month has been hard, y'all.  Like HARD hard.

It started in the beginning.  I found out on April 2 that I had two weeks left of work.  My job has always been sort of up in the air, which is a horrible way to work, actually.  I never knew how long it would last.  It was part-time temporary, but was a new position and frankly, one that not everyone saw the value in.  So when it was time for budget cuts my job was seen as not important enough to keep.

So that put a black cloud over everything.  I stopped running as much and I've been eating my feelings with Easter candy and wine and staying up entirely too late because I'm not sleeping well.  Which made me feel even worse.

Plus our house is in incredible disarray because we are in the process of ripping up our carpet to sand and refinish our wood floors and everything everywhere is covered in this yellowed glue that was under the carpet.  Tiny pieces find there way into everything - everyone's socks and shoes and clothes and it's even in rooms that didn't originally have glue.  Which is stressful enough.

And last Wednesday my cat got sick.  I had Susy since before we had Sebastian.  She wasn't the friendliest of cats, but she was my cat.  She loved me, and I loved her and she was kind of my first baby.  I got home from picking up the kids Wednesday afternoon and found piles of, well, bloody stuff.  I searched for her and tried to make her comfortable, not really knowing what was going on.  And then that night she went missing.  Since we're redoing the floors there are some holes where boards are being replaced and she crawled in one of them and got under the floor.

Chris managed to find her on Thursday morning, but she wasn't really moving around.  I tried to give her some water with a syringe, but she wasn't all that interested.  But then she started moving around more and seemed better.  But it turns out she wasn't.  Chris took her to the vet on Friday and he said she more than likely had a form of blood cancer and had to be put to sleep.  It was awful.  I didn't really get to say goodbye to her.  And then we had to tell the kids.  Adele still doesn't understand.  She thinks Susy is sleeping and will be back sometime, when she's done.  But Sebastian took it really hard.  This is his first real experience with death.  He cried and cried and has said over and over again that he wishes Susy was still alive.

Me, too, buddy.  I keep expecting her to walk in and jump on my lap, or jump on our bed at night and curl up, or come downstairs and meow for her "Susy snacks."  

So, I'm still processing that.  And on Saturday, while I was waiting to pull into a parking space by the redbox at McDonalds, an elderly gentleman decided that backing into the driver's side door of my car was an excellent idea, in spite of my honking and waving.  And my children were in the car.  And he drove off without stopping.  And I had to sit there and wait for the police to come with two children, the older of whom was still dealing with the death of his cat and who was convinced that we could also have died in that car incident.

Good times.

So, I've complained.  I've been and still am pretty down.  I am trying and trying to get out of this funk that I'm in, to be positive, to be happy.  It's so very hard.  But I will get there.  I know I will.  I'm planning on running after work, which is a good start for me. And I began preparing the gardening beds and planted some seeds and weeded.  It always makes me feel better to have my hands in the dirt.

But what I really need to do is take some time and sew, because that allows me to only focus on what I'm making, or on the next stitch.  But as I mentioned before, my house is a disaster and we don't currently have a dining room table set up, which is were I like to sew.  But I think I'm going to have to improvise because I have to do something.

Three more days of work and then I will sew.  And I will feel better.

Adele and sunglasses and a worm.  It made me smile yesterday.

(If it weren't for my anniversary this month or my sister's birthday, I'd give the month of April a giant middle finger.)

Coffee- and random capslock-infused vignettes

Sometimes I get locked in my closet/office because of a class or Very Important Test happening in the computer lab that is my lobby and I have a love-hate relationship with the isolation.

I kind of love being locked in.  No one will bother me - not that that is a very frequent occurrence anyway, but still.  I can hide and be alone and talk to no one and be an introvert.

However, I also hate being locked in.  And this is mainly because I have to pee a lot in the mornings.  Like a lot.  Like, I could pee every 7 minutes if someone made me pee every 7 minutes because of a weird need to force someone to pee every 7 minutes.

Maybe this has something to do with the amount of coffee I drink in the mornings or the amount of children I have birthed but the problem is there no matter what the cause.

And I could interrupt the test, I really could.  No one would be mad at me except probably the students who are bothered by me startling them because no one expects someone to burst out of a closet in a computer lab shouting "Oh I AM sorry!  Don't mind me - I just need to pee because I've had gallons of coffee and birthed two children who destroyed my bottom half and ha-ha!  You know what I'm talking about, don't you?  But I'll only walk through this once, I promise, except not really because I have THE SMALLEST BLADDER IN THE WORLD."

The students tend to lose their focus when that happens.

So I hide and squirm until the last possible second because I don't want to disturb anyone or cause anyone a slight irritation.

In other, non-bladder-related news I sewed myself another Scout Tee.  This one is made from polyester and is teal with maroon stars on it and really, could there be any better fabric choice?

It makes me smile.

My sewing machine decided it hated me this weekend and started breaking my needle thread and bunching up my bobbin thread and generally being an asshole.  And then it stopped because I blew some dust out of the bobbin area and I patted myself on the back for being an expert sewing machine repair person.  And then it started up again.

And in other-other non-bladder-related news Adele picked out her clothes this morning and insisted on dressing herself completely and actually wore the school jumper I sewed for her and even put on her shoes and had very specific ideas about how she wanted her hair fixed and ate her breakfast and brushed her own teeth and this was a definite Excellent Morning, especially after we had a ridiculous weekend full of both kids bickering and fighting and pinching and my in-laws took pity on us when we went to eat dinner with them and let the kids stay the night at their house.

Chris and I went home and watched House of Cards.

And then we picked them up on Sunday and they were still fighting and last night Sebastian pinched his sister really hard and when he was reprimanded he asked (yelled) WHY DID YOU EVEN GET ME THEN and was very upset about the fact that, as he put it, Adele used to be the one hitting and pinching and now it was him and WOE IS HE WHO IS 6 YEARS OLD AND SUPER TIRED.

And then Sebastian told me that some of our friends' kids said Adele was a jerk which is TOTALLY NOT COOL YOU LITTLE JERKS.

And then everyone was fine and we read bedtime stories and both children actually listened to me read the stories, which is rare because usually storytime is also wrestling time and Adele went to bed again without screaming and throwing things at my head as I walked down the stairs and this morning it was so hard to wake up because I didn't sleep very well and had a 4 year old in my bed laying on my chest but the she got herself ready and it made me happy and a little relieved and Sebastian got himself ready like he always does which makes mornings that much more manageable.

And we played I-Spy on the way to school like we always do and Adele picked the yellow sun like she always does and I picked the red sign like I always do and Sebastian picked the white snow like he always does and Chris picked the brown building like he always does.

Coffee features prominently into this post for many reasons

Well, I survived the first snow day and I only beat the children once each.

It was nice, you know?  I miss being home with the kids all the time, even though when I was home all I wanted was a few minutes of peace.  Never satisfied, I know.

So Monday it snowed quite a bit and we spent the day making snow angels and throwing snow at each other and then after five minutes of that I gave up and went inside to pour myself another cup of coffee because BRRR.

And when the kids finally got cold I made hot cocoa with extra marshmallows and we watched Frosty on Netflix.

(I also made bread and yogurt and butter that day because I am an idiot.)

The afternoon kind of sucked because they always do.  Something about being tired but not wanting to rest and me trying to rationalize that 'resting' also can be playing video games or watching tv because at least they are sitting still.

It never works.  When I finally tell then that hey, time to unplug, they're glazed over and super-extra tired and pissed off because I've separated them from their beloved screen.

(Is this just my kids? Because this is a regular occurrence in my house.)

Also Adele lost a tooth.  Which, what?  Too young, right?  But she's a teeth grinder and loosened them up, which I think had something to do with it.  Obviously I am super concerned about it all.  The tooth fairy came, but since she couldn't care less about money she barely has acknowledged her dollar in a baggie.  It was kind of funny when the tooth fell out, though.  I heard her saying "It's not working!" and holding the tooth like what the hell just happened?

She's pretty excited to show everyone the missing tooth, though.

Chris was out of town for work for the last few days which means I stayed up extra late because he wasn't there to tell me to go to bed at 8:30.  That also meant I was dealing with the kids' extra-crankiness (are they sick or just moody? I DON'T KNOW!) all alone and feeling pretty cranky myself which didn't help anything.  In fact, surprisingly, it made everything worse.  As did the staying up later and now I am currently surviving on 6 hours of sleep, a gallon of coffee and dreams of my bed.

But because of all the crankiness and the fact that I couldn't leave the house on account of my children being horrible store-goers, I jokingly facebook-requested a liquor-store delivery.  But sometimes the universe gives you nice things in the form of friends who send their preacher-husbands to your house at 9 p.m. with a bottle of wine.  Also I'd like to formally apologize for answering the door while not wearing a bra.  I did put on a huge sweater, though, because no one needs to see that.

In other news, Sebastian has been complaining a lot this school year about his afternoon bus driver who takes him from school to his afterschool place.  Apparently this man is a yeller.  One day he even forgot to drop the kids off at this particular place, then blamed them.  Also I'm not the fondest of the afterschool place, either.  There's yelling there, too, and Sebastian is always told to keep his hands to himself when he hugs his friends goodbye.  Dude.  Let's promote more love and kindness and less yelling, ok?  Especially since this is at a church.  You'd think kindness would be more encouraged.

But because of all this, and also because I want to save money, I've switched up my hours at work.  Now instead of working Tuesday-Thursday, I'm going to work Monday-Thursday from 8-1.  That way Sebastian can just ride the bus home (different bus driver, we know and like her).  I won't have to pay for afterschool, I'll get a little more time with my guy, and whenever Adele starts kindergarten we will be officially paying $700 less a month in childcare.

I can hardly contain my excitement.  Maybe we can finally have another car instead of sharing one!

But none of this would be possible if I didn't have one of the most understanding bosses around.  He gets families and family commitments and the need for mothers to be mothers as well as employees.  I'm extremely lucky, I know it.

Now if you'll excuse me I need to find someone to tape my eyelids open.

In which I unexpectedly work through my feelings on Lena Dunham's book

I went to a work function last night, one where I got to put on nice clothes (even nicer than the business-casual I usually wear) and listen to speeches and eat fancy chicken on a stick.  And desserts on a stick.  And an endless amount of other tiny delicious pieces of food that I had to pick up with my hands because there were no forks to be seen anywhere.  The food was amazing.  I work at a community college and the event was catered by the culinary department and I had to resist eating two of everything.  I settled for one.

Related: I still don't like chicken liver even if it's wrapped in bacon and speared with a toothpick.  But I TRIED.

I thought the post needed a picture
and this was all I could come up with.

I came home to my husband already in bed and asleep (it was 9:15) so I had to rummage around in the dark for pajamas.  I stayed up reading Lena Dunham's book (Not That Kind of Girl) because I needed a bit of winding down off the fried peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

I want to like this book, I really, really do.  And that's not to say that I don't, per se.

I'm not making any sense.

What I want to say is that I like the book, but there are parts that leave a bad taste in my mouth.  She's open, yes, which I appreciate.  And there are certain passages of her stories that leave me nodding in agreement and relief that finally someone gets how I feel about something.

But my overall feeling is that she is so very young.  Maybe that's the point of the book, though.  She captures a part of her life, her childhood and early-adulthood, and how full of self-knowledge were any of us at those times in our life?

I think I've written before about how, at least in the writing community that I've encountered, there seems to be an overall belief that in order to write well you have to be messed up in some way.  I don't subscribe to that belief.  I mean, I think we're all at least a bit messed up but it's the wallowing in it that bothers me.  The feeling that you are somehow 'special' because you had a bad experience.  Or weird experience.  Or experience that didn't sit well.  We've all had them.  No one is without their own story.  Everyone you meet is dealing with something.  And so maybe, for some, writing an experience is a way to climb out of the story.  I do feel it's hard to be truly honest when writing your own story.  And I appreciate Lena Dunham's ability to share things that many wouldn't.

I do not know her true story, her whole story.  All I know is what I've read in this book where she admits to being an unreliable narrator.  We all are in our own stories, though, aren't we?  The very nature of them is that it's how we perceive an experience.

So maybe she's captured that.  Maybe that's the point.

(I started this post thinking I would talk about how Chris had a rough bedtime routine with the kids and that apparently Adele was so pissed that, unbeknownst to anyone she took off all her clothes out of spite.  We realized it when she crawled into our bed at 4:30 naked and smelling of pee.

Instead I talked about Lena Dunham.)

Bittersweet, time marches on, cat's in the cradle and all that

I'm back at work today and I already miss my babies and wish I was with them.  It doesn't matter that the past five weeks have been super hard and full of drama.  I usually want what I don't have.  Or rather, I wanted the entire experience of being home to be better than it was - easier, more full of educational family time and less full of video games and arguments.

My husband is staying with them today because their school doesn't start until tomorrow.  It hasn't helped my frame of mind that he keeps sending me updates via text on how their day is going.  It's still morning and already there has been painting and board games and twister and probably reading and flashcards and novella writing.  Also he's taking them to the pool later.

I told him that they're never going to want me to stay with them ever again because of him.

I think he's doing it on purpose to try to show me up.

Whatever.

Adele starts really real for real preschool tomorrow.  I don't know how it's going to go.  She cried when I went to pick up the paperwork - mostly because she thought I was leaving her there that day.  And then she cried again when we went to open house.  I am not looking forward to dropoff tomorrow.  I am hoping that she will surprise me and be perfectly fine, though I'm not entirely sure that would be better.  On account of my feelings.

She just still seems so young to me, you know?  She still seems like my baby.  And maybe it's my own fault, maybe I've babied her entirely too much over the past few years.  I mean - she still wakes up screaming in the middle of the night as opposed to calmly walking down the stairs to crawl into bed with me if she needs comfort - which to me is much more logical - and less jarring - than the screaming.  But logic and calmness is not one of her strengths when she's upset.

So my baby is going to school where she'll learn all kinds of things and will grow and change and it makes me incredibly sad and glad all at the same time.

Sebastian is starting first grade and I don't hardly believe it.  Kindergarten was in an entirely separate building that only housed city preschool and kindergarten, so he was the oldest kid there.  In his new school he's the youngest.  He will be surrounded by lots of kids who are older than he is and it's scary, you know?  I mean, I know it's not really that big of a deal.  But at the same time it is.  He's one more step removed from me, closer than ever to college and backpacking through Europe.

It's hard to see my kids grow.  I mourn the time when the were tiny, when all they really needed was me, when I knew everything about them.  All of these changes are good, productive, normal things.  But I've never been all that great with change, especially when it comes to my kids.  Each new milestone is filled with a tiny bit of sadness that nothing will ever again be exactly like it was.

I want them to experience life as hard as they can, to be independent and adventurous and wild.  But I also still want them to be my babies, to need me, to want to be with me.

And I think that is what makes motherhood so hard.  Our job is to spend time and effort and love raising our children to leave us.

I had my first kiss at the Meade County Fair. Don't tell Chris.

So I just submitted my monthly newspaper column and it was all about how I love to make things by hand.  I expect the hate mail to start about 20 minutes after it publishes.

It's not that I think I'm better because I make my own yogurt.  It's just that I really, really enjoy it.  I enjoy sewing clothes.  I enjoy knitting sweaters.

I'm a bit afraid I came off sounding like I'm awesome and you're not because I bake my own bread.  (Not always!  I swear!)

But really it's not because I think I'm better, it's because I'm 'frugal' and know that I can probably make something for much cheaper than I can buy it in the store.

Oh well.

At the moment I am actively avoiding my children.  Or child.  Sebastian is fine - he's building his new Lego Chima set and is actually a joy to play with.  The younger child, however, is not taking naps anymore - and hasn't been - and is short-tempered and violent and hoo-boy do I ever want to ship her off to someone else's house.  Or daycare.  I really, really miss daycare.

The hardest thing about being home for the past few weeks has been that I don't have any time to myself anymore.  It's back to constant companions and complete exhaustion when said companions are finally in bed.  That's not good for my introverted soul.

I know, I know.  Stop complaining you ungrateful woman.  I fully admit that I am never satisfied.  I missed them when I was at work and I missed being at work when I am at home.  And that my friends, is the circle of the life of a mom.  I'm about halfway done with my time before I have to go back to work.  Chris is taking a few days off next week and we're going to get the kids out of the house.  We'll probably go to the Meade County Fair - which, of course, is the biggest and best fair around.  The kids will love it.

I guess I should get back to parenting and stop actively avoiding my children.  Adele throws the blocks at my head if I don't play with her when she wants me to.

I had plenty of all-day TV days as a kid and LOOK AT HOW FANTASTIC I AM

I'm off of work for the month of July because things kind of slow down a bit at colleges in the summer.  And by 'a bit' I mean a ridiculously large amount.

I worked at WKU for a few years in the Career Services office.  I loved it.  I loved working with students and I loved being on campus and I loved what I did.  That's one of the reasons I'm excited to be back at a college.

But summers are slow, so I understand why I have to take a break.  However, I'll miss my coworkers and our discussions and I'll miss leaving the house and feeling like I contribute to something I strongly believe in.  (I know - I strongly believe in contributing to the growth and development of my children as well.  But it's different.)

I'll also miss the paycheck.

I'll be back to spending my days with my babies (who really aren't babies anymore but will forever be 'my babies.').  I think - I hope - that it will be easier this summer than in the past.  I feel more relaxed myself, and less likely to have a panic attack at the thought of taking both children to the pool by myself.  Or out in public by myself.

Plus Adele is older now and a bit more reasonable.  I think we might actually be able to do things this year.  Or at least not spend the days staring blankly at each other waiting for one of us to think of something fun to do.  My suggestions are always "Go read!  Go play outside!  Go take a nap!" Adele's are "Eat Candy!  Watch Frozen again! Play babies! Kick Sebastian!" and Sebastian's are "Watch TV!  Play video games!  Draw! Hide from Adele!"

Maybe if we can keep the fighting to a minimum we'll have some fun. So I'm looking forward to this time.  I probably will not have a craft a day or scheduled hourly activities and we will most likely have a couple of all-day TV days because Mama is tired.  But I think everyone will survive.

You mean your house isn't covered in wine glasses by Monday? Weird.

I played hooky on Monday.

It wasn't planned, and really it was completely my husband's fault.

Well, maybe it wasn't completely his fault in that I guess he didn't plan to be horrifically sick and weak and whiny.  But really, when you train for a marathon and run double-digit miles every weekend, maybe you're breaking down your body, Christopher.  Just maybe.

So I guess it totally was his fault for being such a dedicated trainer.

Since I don't work on Mondays I usually take that time to catch up on all the housework that's leftover from the weekend because those days are full of stuff to do and also laziness and a mountain of laundry.  So by Monday my house is covered in leftover wine glasses, random socks, legos and baskets full of clean, unfolded laundry.

Sebastian is in school and Adele is in her preschool/daycare, so I have an awesome opportunity to get things done.

And I most definitely feel the pressure to get things done.

There's so much that needs to be completed on a daily basis, and we're all still trying to figure out how to manage the household now that I'm not home all day, every day to do everything.  So Mondays and Fridays are my catch-up days.

This Monday Chris was sick.  And I saw him laying down on the couch.  I mean, yes, he felt horrible.  But still, it looked nice.  I wanted to shut off the drill sergeant in my head telling me I had to clean everything before the kids were home and start dinner and make the bread for the week.

Also for some reason I can't clean when other people are sitting down around me, anyway.  Just can't do it.  Not possible.

So I kind of just ... joined him.  I sat down.

I didn't fold clothes.

I didn't wash dishes.

I didn't even pick up the random socks.  (Really, what is with my family?  If you take off your socks - PUT THEM IN THE DIRTY CLOTHES HAMPER, NOT ON DINING ROOM TABLE.)

The most work I did was cutting out a few patterns to sew.  (More to come on that.  I seem to have a new addiction.  I got it bad.)

I watched movies.  I watched television shows.  I may have knit a few rows on a shawl.  I had an actual conversation with my husband that wasn't interrupted by requests for snacks.

But mostly I relaxed.  I ignored my list.

It was quiet and peaceful and one of the nicest days I've had.

And then I picked up the children and they came home fighting and arguing and complaining and generally acting like the heathens I know and love.

But I'll always have the memory, right?

Random Thursday: I'm thinking the space needs a Doctor Who poster. Or something.

1. Do you know how weird it is to be out of the house?  By myself?  In nice clothes?  Talking with really awesome adults?

2. Guys, I'm working now.  Real live working.  The kind of working that brings in a decent paycheck and makes me feel all adult and stuff.

3. (Obviously.)

4. And it doesn't even matter that I haven't had much to do since my supervisor has been out all week. I'm pretty caught up on the news, so there's that.

5. I did get some editing to do today, so I felt super important.

6. I did not realize how much I missed it.

7. Words are cool.

8. It also doesn't even matter that my office is literally a storage closet, complete with a Christmas tree and decorations that I offered to set up.

9. I thought it would jazz up the space.

10. They said not now.

11. No really - it's a storage closet.  See:

12. I have no desire to change it.  It's all mine.

13. My own space, my own time, my own job.  My own desk.  My own laptop.  My own phone.

14. I taped up pictures of my children this morning to decorate the whiteness.

15. And then I was promptly kicked out because very important people needed to use the lab and I would disturb them on one of my many trips to get coffee.

16. Coffee is important, you know.  And I'd hate to be kept from partaking.

17. I've been assured that no one ever uses that room, but this is just a special week.

18. No matter.

19. Now I get to use the supervisor's fancy office since he's still out sick.

20. I'm pretending that it's mine.

21. That's totally normal, right?

22, I can't wait to get started.

23. Like really, full-on started.

24. (Can you tell I'm almost squeeing?)

25. Because I am.

(My random posts are totally not random.)

It's easier because it's harder

I thought it would be much easier than it was. 

I’ve spent the past three and a half years desperate for time to myself.  I would have days were all I wanted was some time to clear my head of the constant chatter and noise that comes with staying at home with two small children.

And I felt so horrible about that need to be away from my kids.  I’ve made no secret about how difficult my youngest can be – my wild girl, my fierce little lady.  And the thought of having a break with nothing whatsoever to do filled me with glee transposed with extreme guilt. 

The excitement I felt with starting a new job, with being out in the world again was palpable.  But then I also felt like I wasn’t being mother enough to my kids.  I shouldn’t want to be away, right?  I should prefer to stay where I was. 

I gave myself a week to get Adele used to being in daycare before I started work.  I thought I could ease her into it, going part time before she went for a full day.  And that way I could also have free time - glorious, uninterrupted time where I would do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted with no one wiping their snot on my pants or ‘brushing’ my hair until I’d lost half of it.* 

The first day I dropped her off was much, much more difficult than I’d anticipated.  She cried, which I expected, because this was a completely new situation that I was thrusting her into.  But I did not expect the tightening in my own stomach, my own tears, or my inability to do anything all day but focus on wondering what she was doing, and how she was feeling.

I’m hard on myself.  I know it.  But a lot of times I feel like I’m not sensitive enough.  I mean, I know I’m crazy sensitive in certain respects, but I worry that I’ve lost that sensitivity, or even empathy, when it comes to my own children.  I worry that I focus too much on what I have to do rather than what it would be fun to do.  I don’t play very well with my kids. Or rather, I don't play well energetically.  I’ll read them whatever books they want me to, or work puzzles and have tea parties, but I probably won’t let them tackle me.  As my son says, “Mommy doesn’t wrestle.”

But as I was saying, I worry that I am too eager to be away from them, and that I’m not enjoying them as I should be.  I love them and want to make them extraordinarily happy, but I also want a break from them.  And that makes me feel bad.

So my excitement over my own free time quickly was downgraded when I realized that I missed my little girl.  I missed her face and her smile and her sweet kisses.  I missed her climbing on the sink in the bathroom to get her own bandaids because I wouldn’t get her a 10th one.  I missed her dancing and singing and our tree tent tea parties.  And then my son wasn’t there in the afternoon as he normally was, and I missed that, too.  I missed being with him to ask about his day and peek in his backpack.  I missed him begging to watch just one more show. 

It was too quiet.  And I was too bored.  I couldn’t do anything.  I couldn’t make myself do anything.  And all I wanted to do was pick up the kids.  I looked forward to the time to pick them up.

It was a strange feeling for me.  It was the longest I’d ever continually been away from Adele, and the longest I’d been away from Sebastian since he was little.  This is, of course, except for their sleepovers with their grandparents but those don’t count because they spend the entire time being spoiled.

But that yearning for the kids caused me to feel much better, like I wasn’t as horrible at this motherhood thing as I originally thought.  And that has actually made it easier to leave them, if that makes sense.

I do miss my kids.  And it’s been really hard being away from them.

But oh, I’m so happy to be back at work.  I was thinking earlier that this is the perfect place for me.  I used to work at Western and always loved working in that environment.  I loved being around people who were learning, who were growing.  And I loved being in the academic atmosphere.  I was sad to leave it. 

But I also loved working in the newspaper environment.  I loved creating and design and writing.  And this job incorporates both of those aspects – I get to work at a college again, and I get to be creative. 

So nobody pinch me because I don't want to wake up.

* An aside – every time Adele sees me sitting at the computer in our house she’ll run and get the detangler spray and a brush and her box of hair things and "fix" my hair for me.  It is tortuously painful but so adorable that I allow it.  Plus she always apologizes when she pulls my hair.

Motherhood and More: Emotions spin as Mom heads back to work*

I can’t call myself a stay-at-home mom anymore.

You see, I got a real-live, brush-your-hair-every-day, leave-the-house type of job. And I’m so excited, so thrilled and so nervous.

It’s been a long time — three and a half years — since I’ve worked in an office, outside of my home. And I know it’s conceited to think the whole world stopped once I left the workforce, but in some ways, that’s how it feels. I feel like I’ve been in limbo a bit, waiting for something. I honestly didn’t have specific plans of what I would do once it was time for me to go back to work. Or even when it would be time for me to go back to work.

I’ve applied for a few jobs over the years, mostly because it’s financially difficult to live on one salary with two children. But I half hoped I wouldn’t be chosen because then I wouldn’t have to deal with leaving my kids. So it was never a huge disappointment when I didn’t get a call.

But when I saw this job, I knew it would be perfect. It’s a writing job, close by and starts part time. So maybe I can ease back into the world again.

The thing that is causing me the most anxiety, though, is my daughter.

My son was in day care from the time he was 3 months old until he was 2 1/2. And then at 3, he was in preschool. So he’s always had time away from me. He’s a social little guy and the only thing that will be different for him is he will ride the bus to a day care in the afternoon and probably will not be allowed to watch as much television as he does at home. He is, of course, terribly upset at that fact, but I’m sure he will adjust. This way, I don’t have to always be the bad guy limiting his screen time.

But my daughter always has been with me, right by my side. She was much more independent as a younger child than my son, but I think that’s because she had never really been separated from me. She knew I always would be within shouting distance.

So I’m worried about how she will take the adjustment. I’m worried there will be tears and crying and clinging and I’m worried she will do those things, too. Because it’s just starting to sink in I won’t be around her all day. Yes, of course, it has been so difficult and trying and exhausting staying at home. But I always knew she’d be in shouting distance if I needed her.

And now, I won’t know what she’s doing all day. I won’t see how much she eats for lunch or how she plays with the other kids. I won’t watch her tuck her baby dolls in on the couch because “they need to feel better.” I won’t be there to kiss a booboo or play ball during the day, or stop her from eating all the toothpaste straight out of the tube.

Part of me is relieved at being able to be a person other than Mommy again. I will be with adults most of the day and be able to think without a small child interrupting me to ask for a cup of milk. But, oh, it does hurt to think of not being available for my kids whenever they need me.

It’s a fantastic opportunity I’ve been given, one I honestly never thought I would have. I’ve been able to stay at home with my babies for longer than many other mothers. And now that it’s time, I’m able to re-enter the workforce doing something I love to do.

So, yeah. I’m lucky. And thrilled. And nervous. And excited. And sad. And terrified. And nauseous. And ecstatic.

And ready.

*This column originally published in The News-Enterprise on February 26, 2014.