territorial

I've been determined since the moment I found out I was expecting #2 that I would keep up my gym routine this time and not turn into a York peppermint devouring walrus. So I've been half successful. (I love me some York mints, especially when I'm busy growing a human.) I still hit the gym 3 or 4 times a week, rocking it out on the spin bike or balancing my pregnant self on an exercise ball to do some chest presses. Not gonna lie, I expect people to be a little impressed when I waddle myself into an hour long group exercise class. I notice the double takes and a shoot back a hell-yeah-I-can-grow-a-human-AND-pump-it-up-WHATUPSUCKA look. It's a look I've really begun to master. I've got the pregnant girl at the gym act down pat. It's one of the perks, folks, what can I say? Doesn't hurt that there's not really any competition.

Until today.

I walked into my usual Thursday morning spin class and started setting up my bike and stretching all nonchalant-like when SHE walked in. Slightly sweaty like maybe she had been working out BEFORE class. Cute as a button. And very much pregnant.

Aw, heck naw. I've been dethroned.

will the real june cleaver please stand up?

I got a sweet note from a friend after my last blog entry thanking me for being "real" on my blog. She said other bloggers (and I'm sure other moms on the playground and in books and magazines and on TV shows) sometimes made her feel that she is falling short of some "good mom" goal and she appreciated reading that someone else might not have it all together either but still managed to get by, maybe even joyfully.

Here's what I want to know: where are they?

Where are all of these "got it together" mamas that we hold ourselves up to and constantly, helplessly, obviously fall short of? I’m sure even those intimidating women I see at the gym with their huge rings and coordinating gym clothes and mammoth SUVs and daughters with matching hairbows feel like they are falling short somewhere. Because most of the women I talk to - real women with real children and lives and husbands and houses that get dirty and laundry that's not done and frozen pizza for dinner - rarely ever seem to feel that they've "got it together". But what does that mean? Where do we get the idea from that mothering has anything to do with being "together"? In my opinion, it has much more to do with just being PRESENT.

Shortly after reading my friend's message, I read another blog entry about very much the same thing. Another mom who might not have a house that looks like the photos in a Real Simple article, but who has identified priorities for herself and her children. Her post centers, to me, around this little snippet of wisdom:

"And then I remember what my most important parenting job is. And that is to teach my children how to deal with being human. Because most likely, that’s where they’re headed. No matter what I do, they’re headed towards being jacked-up humans faster than three brake-less railroad cars.There is really only one way to deal gracefully with being a jacked-up human, and that is this: Forgive yourself."

Can I get an "amen"? How can we teach our children how to gracefully navigate life, mistakes and all, if we pretend to never make them?

At the end of her entry, this blogger asks her readers to leave comments telling what makes them a good mom. Not what they need to fix or forget to do or think that the lady in front of them at carpool does better, but what they do well all on their very own. I think for me it is that I do recognize every day that I am not a perfect mother or wife or housekeeper. My living room rug is currently host to enough dog hair to cover another good sized dog and there is laundry on the bedroom floor that has been there for at least a day or two. I'm not sure what we're having for dinner and it may very well come out of the freezer. But I love my daughter. I love being her mother. She makes me laugh every single day. And what I am good at is allowing myself to fall short of perfect so that I can find joy in those fleeting moments. I’ve found that for me to be a happy, and therefore I think a “better” mother, it's more important to me to BE together than to HAVE IT together.

Happy Mother’s Day, mamas. You’re all awesome.

a likely story

If I write another blog entry about how I'm going to be better about writing more consistent blog entries, I'm going to be annoyed with myself. So suffice it to say that I really have no excuse other than my long queue on Hulu and a strong desire for afternoon naps. I would say that I also suffer from a lack of interesting things to blog about lately, but some of my most favorite bloggers post nearly every day and always seem to make themselves seem interesting, funny, thoughtful, or all of the above. Plus I have pretty much the most adorable genius baby (eek... I guess I should say toddler... that little stinker will be EIGHTEEN MONTHS old next week) ever in life, so writing about her alone should provide blog fodder for all eternity. I guess I just need to start looking at life through blog-colored glasses. Or just take a healthy dose of ego and assume that everyone finds my life fascinating.

Today I got to be a single mom for a day since Joe went to Augusta for his cousin's med school hooding (YAY Kate!). MAD PROPS to all the single mamas out there. On days when I don't leave home early to teach Joe doesn't usually come home until 5:30ish anyway, but those few hours of having both of us home to share parenting duties is such a joy, not to mention a relief. I just like having someone else there to make decisions, even if it's just what to make Laine for dinner. It's also much harder to be a single CAR-LESS mom, but Laine and I rocked it out today and filled our afternoon with an impromptu playdate with one of her many gentleman callers, a walk to the park (on top of my hour and a half at the gym this morning... wham bam thank you MA'AM... and you bet your fanny I'm bragging on my walrus-y pregnant self), peanut butter and "chocolate" (nutella) for dinner, and a late bedtime because Mommy is a sucker for "again" when it comes to lullabies. I like days when I feel like I am on top of my mommy game, because I know our little world is about to be rocked in approximately 4 months time. Sometimes that seems like an eternity, but on days like this when I did most things right and got some exercise and took a nap and I can sink onto the couch exhausted and satisfied with a quietly sleeping toddler and a sink empty of dishes at 7:30 ready to watch some American Idol... I think 4 months might be just long enough.

IT'S A...

Because we can't do anything the "normal" way. And because my students are incredible.



Can't wait to meet you, little man. We love you already.

tina fey's prayer

(Sadly,) I am not Tina Fey. And so, since I can not be any funnier, more concise and direct, or find a better way to combine heartfelt pleading with wit and light-heartedness, I will just post her prayer for her daughter here. And then probably tape it to my bathroom mirror.

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short - a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day - And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.

practice makes...

My darling husband emailed me an article the other day (with the subject line "article for blogpost"... he's so supportive and encouraging... and he likes to harass me) about a new trend of parents who don't enjoy parenting. Some of this article was very frustrating to me... study after study sited of why parents should be miserable, angry, exhausted, frustrated, and dissatisfied with their lives. And of course we all feel that way sometimes. Maybe even for an entire day. Perhaps even the bulk of an entire week. But my argument is that we have to remember the difference between our own happiness in the immediate present moment, and the fulfillment and satisfaction from creating a family that includes happy, well-adjusted, intelligent kids. I completely agree with the author of the article that we also need to acknowledge that our very ability to analyze our own personal day-t0-day happiness while raising children is a testament to the country we live in and the resources available to us. Our children are not out herding goats while we figure out how to feed them for another day. We can whine about not having time to fit in a yoga class. But I think the most important point the article makes comes at the very end:

Susan Callahan, co-author with Anne Nolen and Katrin Schumann of "Mothers Need Time-Outs, Too," points out that the intense focus on our children can lead many moms to resent motherhood. "We believe that parents, and women in particular, run into a couple stumbling blocks when parenting," Callahan says. "The three big themes tend to be perfectionism, multitasking, and stress." After interviewing more than 500 women while researching their book, Callahan says that she and her colleagues found that "perfectionism is the number one issue keeping modern mothers from enjoying the moment." "We are all so busy trying to be everything to everyone—and doing a stellar job while we’re at it—that we don’t have a spare second to plug into our own needs or desires," she points out.

This point was driven home to me personally when I was reading a parenting magazine last night before bed. There was a section devoted to healthy eating and an active lifestyle for children- something I am sure we can all get behind 100%, especially given the epidemic of childhood obesity in America. A sidebar caught my eye, informing parents that a serving of applesauce can have as much sugar as a brownie and a "turkey and cheddar on wheat has approximately 500mg of sodium" (GASP). Some of this options given (and these are the "good" options... not even the "better" or "best"... because, really, who wants to do the "best" for their kids?) are making your own breakfast treat with Greek yogurt, frozen bananas, honey, wheat germ, and a few semi-sweet chocolate chips or whole grain pasta tossed with a tomato based meat sauce- with grated carrots, zucchini, and wheat germ in the sauce of course. Now I am in no way poo-pooing these meal ideas. But in place of a good ol' turkey and cheese for lunch every now and again? Sorry Parenting: Early Years, I don't think applesauce for an afternoon snack is the dark horse problem behind childhood obesity. I just don't buy it (the idea... I DO buy applesauce... the unsweetened kind, of course). But now am I supposed to feel guilty when I slap together a PB&J for Laine's lunch? Should every lunch involve wheat germ (btw... EW)? How much pressure do we really need to add on to the already mind-blowing task of raising a decent human being?

I don't know how I feel about parents who find parenting to be depressing. I wonder if sometimes we do idealize the lifestyle, or perhaps look back on it when our children are grown with somewhat rose-tinted glasses. But don't we do that about everything? Was college really the "best time of our lives"? I think right now is pretty darn good in Casa Caldwell. And I think a great deal of why I am able to feel that way is because I know without a doubt that I am not doing everything right. I'm not feeding Laine flaxseed and quinoa everyday. I'm not reading every parenting book or following every guideline thrown at me by the pediatric association folks. I am not the perfect mom, but I enjoy my daughter and I try my best.

And I'm ok with that.

self help

I feel slightly ridiculous saying this since approximately 4,003 of my friends are currently pregnant right along with me, but being pregnant for the second time is kind of a lonely experience. There is no What To Expect the Next Time You Get Pregnant When You Already Have a Brilliant, Independent, Busy Toddler book. I actually looked. Not for that exact title, obviously, but I did peruse the Family and Parenting section at Barnes and Noble when we took Laine to play with the train set develop her young literary mind. I scanned the shelves for anything about introducing a second (or third, or fourth, or eighteenth if you're the Duggars) baby into your pre-existing little family. Nothing. There were books on children with special needs, discipline, how and where and what to feed your toddler, baby sign language, baby underwater basket weaving, and how to control sibling rivalry once those other babies have made their debut and are fighting it out Darwinian style. But what can this anxious second time mommy turn to while awaiting #2? Even the best of the best websites for expectant mother (What To Expect, The Bump, etc.) don't have articles beyond "Are You Ready For Another Baby"? TOO LATE, The Bump. Now what do I do?? Of course the other moms in my life are a huge resource. My college roomie Katie is expecting her second (a little boy!) in August, and she and I discussed this very issue while our precious little firstborns were napping the other day. She told me that her husband sent out a message to their friends with multiple children asking what advice they wish they had been given when expecting (brilliant) and almost all of them said they didn't expect the guilt and difficulty of balancing the needs of their toddler with the demands of a newborn. Well... yeah. At least I know I'm nervous about the right things.

Of course I know that once BC2 is here we will adjust to the "new normal" of having two kids. Laine will never really remember a time before she was a big sister (I don't, and I was older than her when my sisters were born) and the guilt will fade as we learn how to balance their needs and divide time and attention between the two of them. But I knew the same things when I was pregnant with Laine: having a baby would be our "new normal", we would learn how to manage our time and keep our marriage a priority. But it was calming, refreshing, and encouraging to have shelves and websites full of expert advice and other people's experiences to guide me along the way and to remind me that other women- thousands and thousands of other women- have been through the very same things. I wonder why no one has capitalized on the needs and questions of all of us anxious, excited, terrified, and thrilled second time mothers?

Maybe it's time I wrote a book after all...