biotin hair growth

Uncategorized

Quote of the Day

Posted by | Uncategorized | No Comments

Friday, 10:50 p.m.

Just now Braydon and I were finishing up a movie on DVD when we heard Owen upstairs in bed coughing very hard. He had been coughing on and off for the past 30 minutes or so. I went up to check on him and he was wide awake, sitting up, complaining of a “hard owie cough.” I got Braydon, who gave Owen cough medicine, and then we carried him back to bed. I laid down next to him until he fell back asleep. As I began to get up to leave the room, Owen stirred a bit, appearing to halfway wake up. He looked right at me and said, in a pleading way, “Mommy, oh Mommy, I wish I could waterski.

School Vacation Week

Posted by | Uncategorized | No Comments
This week has been a school vacation week for K & O. In the past, school vacations have been dreaded (I mean, DREADED) by Braydon and I because of the huge wrench they throw (I mean, HUGE WRENCH THEY THROW) into our life. In the past, we have always felt like we’re just barely holding on by a thread. Anything that throws us out of whack (like, for example, a kid getting sick, or a school vacation week) has pushed us over the edge. But things have changed around here. Oh glory be! how things have changed around here!!! Again, again, again… just one word: MARGIE! She’s got us covered. School vacation week has been a breeze. Kids (and parents) being sick has been a breeze. It has been a bit wacky around here. But, it has been a breeze. The boys have had a blast playing at home together (especially because of being in separate classrooms this year, their playing at home together all day long is a nice treat for them). Meera has been able to keep her routine. Braydon and I haven’t had to skip out on work. Everything has remained — more or less — even keeled (well, as even keeled as it ever is). I feel like we’ve finally achieved, for the very first time, what a school vacation week is supposed to be like: everybody slightly more relaxed, the kids staying up a bit later than usual, routine suspended a bit, and a few more chances to get bored (and thus, more creative) than usual. I’ve gotta say, it has been great. TGFM. (Thank God For Margie). It has been a good (albeit a bit wild and crazy) week here. The photos below show just a bit of some of the slightly wackier moments. TGIF.

A ‘Little Bug’ & Kyle’s Tick

Posted by | Uncategorized | No Comments

So, 12 days ago we went to Giggleberry Fair. Meera spent most of the time in the backpack on Braydon’s back while we were there (what else is new?!), but after awhile I started to feel bad for her and wanted to let her out so she could move a little. She was happy to be free, sitting, standing, and — as usual — putting everything she came into contact with in her mouth. The kids (K, O, and Zoe) were playing in the “Grocery Store”/”Farm” area of the playspace (this is almost like a children’s museum sort of environment) and began, very cutely, bringing shopping baskets full of plastic toy food to Meera. Meera loved this game!– the cauliflower, bananas, eggplants, apples, etc, etc, etc, were all very exciting to Little Miss. Even the ‘shopping baskets’ were very exciting. And, of course, she was putting everything into her mouth. Watching her, all these plastic things upon her lips, drool smearing all over them, other babies’ dried drool surely smearing all over her, her little baby teeth clamping down as hard as she could bite, and her grinning ear-to-ear through it all… all I could think was, “OH MY GOD, LOOK AT THIS GERM INFESTED MESS!” I even said something to the effect of “I KNOW I SHOULDN’T BE LETTING HER DO THIS. I KNOW I’M GOING TO REGRET THIS!” to Lori, who just nodded knowingly in complete agreement. Exactly 24 hours later Meera’s nose started running and eyes started watering. Yup. And she’s been battling a cold ever since. She’s on the mend now, but the rest of us are paying the price for that cutesy-plastic-food-germ-infested-moment — BIG TIME. Meera’s little cold bug spread fast. First it was me who came down with it. A bad head cold with sore throat, runny nose, achy all over. And then K & O started sneezing and dripping-from-their-noses. Braydon seems to be the healthiest of all, but even he is fending off a touch of it too. The other day, as I was blowing my nose, Kyle said, “Mommy, you are so sick, I’m worried you’re going to die.” This has been a big theme for Kyle for the past six months (a deep fear of me dying brought on by the horribly traumatic and sudden deaths of my two cousins). We’ve been working on this/dealing with this pretty much constantly with Kyle since September. So, upon the “Mommy, you are so sick, I’m worried you’re going to die” comment, I reassured Kyle (yet again) that I was going to be just fine (and, yet again, we talked briefly about some of the basic circumstances of my cousins; he asked me for the billionth time about how they died, he asked me for the millionth time about bodies and souls [“The body dies, but the soul — all that is good and true about the person on the inside — goes to heaven”] etc., etc.). Somewhere in there I remember saying something along the lines of “You don’t need to worry Kyle, I’m not too sick, this is just a little bug!” I specifically remember the second where I could see his little brain go into full gear. “A BUG?!” he asked. I tried to explain that people sometimes call colds or flus a “little bug” and that it means that it isn’t a big deal, but… I could tell that what I was saying was lost on him. He was still back at “little bug” and wasn’t easily going to get past it. This is, afterall, just how it is with four year olds sometimes. They hear what they hear and it is what it is: often, very literal. Well, as things like this sometimes do, the “little bug” thing has lingered… in more ways than one.

Of the five of us, Kyle has been the most hard hit by this Giggleberry-Fair-Fake-Food-Provoked cold. The first hint that something was not right was when he told me that his ear “hurts deep.” He then quickly explained to me with total certainty that “it hurts because of the tick.” “The tick?” I asked. “Yes,” he said, “I have a tick in my ear.” He was absolutely certain that a tick (as in the small insect, or, the “little bug”) had crawled into his ear and was in there, hurting him. His complaining about his “tick in his ear” did not let up. He was describing in detail the tick — it was “deep in there”; it was “a tiny baby tick”; it was “a black tick with pinchers”; it was “in his ear making it hurt.” Complaining, of any kind, by Owen or Kyle, is extraordinarily rare — so much so that we take it very seriously when it happens. I don’t think that Kyle has been sick enough to warrant a doctor’s visit for about three years now (ever since he got tubes in his ears and had his adenoids taken out at the age of 20 months). But we could see his ear pain was significant, and so Braydon got him into the doctor as soon as possible (which was Tuesday). What we suspected was confirmed: ear infection and swollen glands. He got right on an antibiotic that same afternoon. When I got home from work Kyle’s account of the doctor’s visit was that “it was the ‘high’ of his day” and that “the doctor found the tick!” Within 24 hours of taking the antibiotic, Kyle was feeling much better. He woke up yesterday saying “the medicine is healing my ear! it is killing the tick!” Last night, before bed, he explained to me that his ear was “all better,” that it “doesn’t hurt at all anymore,” and that “the tick is out!!!” And then, very seriously, standing in the boys’ bathroom, Kyle told me this: “You know how it happened Mom? The tick’s skin died. The ‘med-sins’ [medicine] died the skin. So the skin’s dead and the tick’s out. It crawled right out with no skin. You know where the tick is now? The tick is in heaven. That tick’s peaceful in heaven but the skin is dead! And my ear’s healthy!”

Laughing

Posted by | Uncategorized | No Comments

“To be playful is not to be trivial or frivolous, or to act as if nothing of consequence will happen. On the contrary, when we are playful with one another, we relate as free persons, and the relationship is open to surprise; everything that happens is of consequence, for seriousness is a dread of the unpredictable outcome of open possibility. To be serious is to press for a specified conclusion. To be playful is to allow for unlimited possibility.” -James Carse

Bedtime Bottle

Posted by | Uncategorized | No Comments

Every night for over 8 months I’ve nursed Meera to sleep. Sitting in the rocking chair in her room at the end of the day we’ve both settled in to peaceful silence as she drifts off, skin to skin, nuzzled close. Then I’ve carefully carried her to her crib and laid her down in the glow of her nightlight. Last night, for the first time, I gave her a bottle instead. It has been a few weeks coming. I’ve known I don’t have enough for her. And she’s been waking up earlier and more frequently because she’s hungry. I’ve held out on it, but for her sake I just couldn’t any longer. And so, sitting in the rocking chair I fed her an 8 ounce bottle. She happily and eagerly drank every drop of it, confirming what I already knew: it was time. I felt such relief to know that she was getting enough; that her tummy was full of warmth. Still, though, the sense of loss was deep. Sitting there in the half-darkness of her dimly lit room, with her snuggled in as close as I could get her, I watched her drink that bottle through blurry eyes. Tears ran slowly down my cheeks in two small streams. It is the ending of something real. I am grateful for how seamless it has been – this evolution from breast to bottle – but still, I mourn the loss of what I know is ending. I remember sitting in that same rocking chair, in that same dimness, watching my baby drink from me. For months that is all she had and I would marvel in the fact that every single molecule of her rapidly growing self had originated with me. I was full of awe at it. As Braydon started giving her bottles I’d sometimes peak through her door to see it in the middle of the night: I wanted to know what it looked like for her to drink from something other than me. I cried once or twice, standing there alone, watching her with him – pure and simple tears of joy at the beauty of it. I felt no loss then. But it is different now, now that she’s moving on to more and more bottles and less and less nursing. It isn’t that I’m not ready; I am ready. And I am fully confident that Meera’s ready. It is just that so much is changing so fast. And with change there is always loss. This tiny baby is moving into a new realm… a realm that I am only part of. It is beautiful and sad all at once. I am not the first mother to feel these profound feelings, to think these thoughts, to cry in the dimly lit baby’s room. But when it is you and your baby, you do feel that nobody else in the entire world could possibly feel it as much as you. Meera didn’t notice me crying. She was deeply, dizzily content to have that bottle. Surly it was a relief to her to finally be getting enough before bed. She slowly closed her eyes as the warm rich liquid filled her up. Then I carefully carried her to her crib and laid her down in the glow of her nightlight. It was the same as every other night. Except it was so different.

Photo of the Day / Quote of the Day

Posted by | Uncategorized | No Comments
Ready for Amelia’s Birthday Party

Braydon and the boys left a few minutes ago to go to Amelia’s Birthday Party. I am staying home with Little Miss for her nap. The boys are very excited about every single birthday party they go to. Making Amelia’s even more exciting is that the party is being held on board the New Hope and Ivyland Railroad! We’ve been on this train a few times before (K & O love it!!!), but never for a birthday party. The excitement and anticipation has been building for the past week, but today — the day of — it was almost more than they could take. When it finally came time to get ready to go, I told them both to go upstairs and wash their faces and hands. A few minutes later I went up to check on their progress. I found Owen jumping on the bed in Kyle’s room. He was ‘redirected’ immediately. I found Kyle in the bathroom, hands and face scrubbed, his face covered with a thick layer of their heaviest moisturizing cream. He was smiling at himself in the mirror proudly with a very shiny face. I asked him if he had put some cream on. Beaming, he said, “Yes Mommy! I want to look great for Amelia’s Birthday Party!!!” Kyle often does things like this in anticipation of special occasions; he is eager and earnest in his desire to “look great!” He came over to me and asked, “Don’t I look great Mama?!” Before I could even say yes, he was smothering me with wet kisses — with his slimy thick cream rubbing off all over my face. I made my way, with Kyle, into Kyle’s room to pick out their clothes. On the way I had to remind Owen to wash his face and hands at least a half a dozen times. So beyond excited, Owen was all over the place. Bouncing off the walls, goofing off in the mirror, fooling around with everything he came into contact with. Trying as best I could to remain calm (Owen was driving me absolutely crazy and I was still trying to rub Kyle’s cream off of me), I headed to Kyle’s closet. Once there Kyle insisted on wearing a dress shirt (a “button shirt” as he calls it). “I want to dress up for the party!!! It has to be a button shirt!” K & O normally couldn’t care less about what they are wearing. But for special occasions Kyle is all about the dress up attire. Once I agreed that he could wear a ‘button shirt’, he started yelling in to Owen in the bathroom, convincing him that he too must wear a ‘button shirt.’ Alrighty then, ‘button shirts’ for both. I helped Kyle get dressed. Meanwhile Owen was on my last nerve. Cartwheeling and somersaulting all over the place, hooting and hollering, dancing in front of the mirror, singing ‘Happy Birthday to Amelia’ at the top of his lungs, etc. The day had been hectic already (I have a cold and am feeling run down to begin with; this morning I had gone to the grocery store for my weekly mega food shopping trip; cleaned out and re-filled the fridge; dealt with Meera who was cranky from refusing to take her normal long morning nap; made lunch for all five of us; hurriedly wrapped Amelia’s present; etc. etc. etc.), and I was seriously going to lose my mind as a result of Owen’s antics grating on my last nerve. I told him in no uncertain terms to put on his underpants “now,” but he got sidetracked (yet again) and started dramatically blowing as hard as he could into thin air (apparently pretending to blow out candles on Amelia’s birthday cake???). I lost my cool and yelled loudly at him. He quickly got his act together, but I was edgy and clearly unnerved. I was buttoning his shirt in total silence when, on about the third button down, Owen leaned into me, placed his arms gently but firmly around my neck, hugged me tightly, and very calmly, slowly, and with total sincerity said in my ear: “Mommy, I feel so bad for you. I am so sorry Mommy. I will always obey you and never act up ever ever ever again for the rest of my whole entire life.” Although I had been on the verge of crying I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Just minutes later the photo above was taken, and then they were off to the party on the train!

V-Day

Posted by | Uncategorized | No Comments

This morning I got to sleep in (which is, after all, the best V-Day gift I could possibly receive!). K & O woke me up enthusiastically announcing that they had made pancakes for breakfast with Papi. I have the best husband. When I got downstairs there were two cards for me. Inside the one from K, O, and M Braydon had written down what the boys had to say:
“Dear Mommy, I love you mommy, thank you for bringing us to nice places. You’re the best mommy in the whole world. Thank you for bringing us to special places. Thank you for bringing us inside sometimes. I love you. Love, My Boys” !?! Neither Braydon or fully grasp the full meaning of this love letter (I get the “My Boys” part — I call them “my boys” all the time; I am not fully sure of the “nice/special/inside places” part but I think I sorta get it), yet still, it was still the sweetest valentine I’ve ever received. I have the best husband. While Meera was napping the boys and I took to the streets (of our neighborhood) to hand deliver their valentines to some of our special neighbors’ mailboxes.


This afternoon we got together with the Petch crew. They are even more of a crew now with their brand new TWIN BOY foster kids. Another fantastic outing with our favorite friends. Yet again, they got to it before we did! (and we forgot our camera, as usual — they always remember theirs!) I have always thought the world of foster parents. I now have an even deeper appreciation from watching our friends go through this. Fostering has got to be the most selfless thing that a person could do. I am in awe and so proud to call the Petsch family our friends.
On the way home we stopped at Margie’s house to drop off the boys’ valentines to her, and a box of V-Day truffles. After we got the three bambinos to bed I was presented with the most beautiful pair of earrings from my One True Love. I have the best husband.
Happy V-Day to all and to all a good night!

Guide to mothers with careers

Posted by | Uncategorized | No Comments

The very short Guy’s Guide to mothers with Careers: For any man interested in talking to a mother with a career.
Note 1: Although this may make you laugh or cry, I mean them seriously.

Note 2: This guide is intended for men, but I am sure anyone who needs it can use it
Note 3: These items relate to mothers with careers, not jobs.  (I won’t go into  the difference)
Note 4: I try and often fail to heed my own advice. Just do the best you can.
Note 5: This is just the tip of the iceberg.
Note 6: I respect the decision of stay at home mothers and people who have consciously decided to enact a traditional gender relationship. I also believe fully that women should be in the workforce in major career positions.  The seem mutually exclusive and I don’t deny that I live in contradiction.
Regarding working:
DO: Ask “How were things at work today?” And then listen. 
Note that listening may take a while and is likely to involve comments about you or men in general that tick you off. Just nod, be sympathetic and hold tight (I am rarely good at this, but when I am, it works out).

DO NOT: Ask, “Did your a**h*** boss say anything positive today?”  
This implies that her boss is the focus of her work – (s)he is not. She is there for the work, not her boss. And just because she calls the person she reports to bad names does not mean you can.  Remember, this is her career and is a major part of her identity, you want people criticizing you?
DO: Ask about her current “project”.  
Note that career women have projects and projects are an important part of her work. You need to remember something about the project. Just a single thing – it can be the last gory detail she told you. After you ask, DO NOT then compare it to your work (note that I often make this mistake).

DO NOT:  Ask “when are they going to give you the day off?”  
This implies that she is beholden to “them” and at “their” mercy. She is not, this is her career for goodness sake. And by the way, don’t you appreciate that she is working?  :) You should, since she’s contributing to the world and to the household finances.

DO: (For partners of women with careers) Figure out how you’re going to drop the kids off at school. Then do it.
DO NOT: Ask “can’t you get a raise out of them?”  
Remember, it’s only in part about the work for her. See “project” above. If you do bring up money, and you choose to use the “you deserve a raise”, be prepared to cite examples of her work that demonstrate her success, or qualify your comment with “I don’t really understand, but it seems to me that ‘xyz’.”  Otherwise, don’t bring up money – ever.

DO: (For partners of women with careers) Pick up one major typically woman’s chore around the house.  
It could be cooking, it could be cleaning, or laundry, it could be getting the children dressed in the morning, it could be dealing with the PTA. Just one will help, since it’s highly unlikely you could do all of them anyway.  Bear in mind this important fact:  she is not going to appreciate that you do it; more likely she is going to feel lousy and defensive that she is not a good enough wife and mother that you have to “pick up her slack” and still give you a hard time.  I do the laundry and it’s hard to get very little credit. Of course, women typically get no credit for what they do at home, so now you know how it feels.
DO NOT: Make her feel bad for:  hiring a house cleaner, or using day care, or bringing store bought cookies to the party.  
When was the last time you tried to clean, cook or raise the kids after a full day in the office?  Never done it? Not surprised, neither have I. So don’t pretend you can know what she is dealing with or how you would solve it. ANd, how would you like it if, when you came home from work the first thing you heard was “wow, maybe if you had not half-assed that report you would have gotten that raise” or “your colleague seems to really know his stuff, have you talked to him about advice?”   Wouldn’t you rather hear “I know it’s hard, you’re doing great with this stuff.”?  Just say that and you’re ahead.
Note: if you fall in to the camp of: “she should be able to do it all” then you are clueless. Just admit you are clueless, that will win you mega bonus points (for about 5 minutes).  Think about it – if you have staff working for you, pretend you fired them all and had to do all their work too. If you say “I just did that and I do it all now”, 1. you’re lying, a lot is slipping through the cracks and the sooner you bubble that up to management the better off you’ll be and 2. Now try going home and cook supper.

Note: if you fall in to the camp of “She should be in the kitchen cleaning and cooking and raising the kids” (which is no different that saying “I don’t mind if she doesn’t want to work” – empirically it’s just not, so don’t bother arguing it – see the last two below), then stop reading now, you don’t belong here. Sorry, it’s just that simple.

Note: if you fall into the camp of “child care is bad because only a mommy/parent [sic] should take care of a child”.  Um hello, are you a father? What happens when you go away for the day?  Um hello – do you know anything  about attachment and bonding? Um -hello – give your kids some credit for a change.  Moreover, mothers are NEVER replaceable. Every adoptive parent knows this, accepts it and most try to help their children with it. See “Recognizing her work” below for the real answer.
DO: Make sure you let her know that the money she is making is a good thing.
Note: you may feel threatened if she makes more, or is making money at all.  Don’t; just enjoy it and go out to dinner and buy a flat-screen tv for the bedroom.  She may not be doing it for the money, but it’s definitely a nice benefit! I also believe that women who make money are more self-confident (based on their sense of independence) and sexy. Note, be sure to turn off flat-screen from time to time and enjoy your partner.
DO NOT:  Say “Don’t you want to be full time mom?”  
This should not need to be explained, but…  Last time I checked, were you not a full time dad? Duh? She’s ALWAYS a full time mom. You think she goes to work and stops being a mom? By that reasoning, when she’s a mom, then she can’t also be your wife. By extension – what then happens if/when she goes out with her friends – not a wife or mother? Wow, you must be really worried about her business trips then.
Oh wait, I know what you mean, she can’t really dedicate herself to being a mom if she’s also working, right? Try saying that to a single mom – and good luck living through the results. 
DO NOT: Say “You know, you could quit your job. I will support you in whatever you decide.”  
This is man-code and really means “I don’t really value your work, respect your abilities or approve of your identity.”  Real nice – way to go.  Grow up, be a man, have an opinion that matters.  If you think she should stay home, then just say it and deal with the fall-out. Otherwise, get some courage and tell her you think it’s great she works, that she should work and that’s one of the things you love about her.  
DO:  Recognize that the work she is doing is valuable to her, you, your children and the world. It will inform how you behave.
I have hired and fired lots of people. I believe it’s a tragic brain drain and a detriment to the world when women are not in the work force. They should be, they bring tremendous value to our work as human beings.  Children who see their mothers in serious careers (I believe) are more confident, capable and mature. Men who are with women who work are better managers and are more self assured. The world is a better place with women committed to doing good work, and a TON more gets done with women working. Isn’t that enough by itself?

Lastly:
Unless you’ve been a mother with a serious career, then some how became a father (not sure how this would work), you can not understand it.  Don’t pretend you do, it just makes you look like a fool and embarrasses you in front of others. I don’t claim to understand it, or that I could understand what my career wife and mother of my children goes through.  All I can do it do my best to support her (which is never easy) and try to get out of her way when she’s in power mode.

My most practical advice: Genuine, honest and self-effacing questions are OK, but otherwise, you’re better off just listening than commenting if you don’t get it.

Since I missed 99% of the important points, I’d welcome additional DOs and DONTs from men with career wife/mothers and career mothers.  To everyone else whom I just angered and alienated, I am sorry, but it had to be said.

Brief Notes on the Balancing Act

Posted by | Uncategorized | No Comments

I’ve been back at work now for five weeks. While I was on maternity leave I never forgot for a single moment just how tough the whole balancing act is– getting a break from it was so nice. But now, for better or for worse, I’m right back in the thick of it.

  • I’ve been a Mother-With-A-Career for four years now and I still feel like I’m just barely getting by with this whole work-family balancing act. Balancing act?! I don’t personally know anyone who is actually *balancing* it. And that (lack of models of it) is a big problem in and of itself. I have no clue how to do this well. And so it goes.
  • I will say, though, that the past five weeks have been the best yet of the past four. And there is one reason why. One word: MARGIE. Oh. My. God. It is sooooo goooooood. Granted, we’re surly still in some sort of honeymoon period — and I have no illusions that it will last forever (flaws in the whole thing will surely be revealed down the road). But right now… Oh. My. God. She has single-handedly changed my life for the much, much better. In fact, I am sorta starting to think of it as life “Pre Margie” vs. life “With Margie.” Dear Lord, please don’t ever let her leave us. #1 all three kids are bonding with her so nicely and coming to love her so much, and vice versa. Meera has yet to cry when I leave her to go to work. And when Margie goes home at the end of the day Kyle and Owen hug and kiss her like they aren’t going to see her ever again (even though she’ll be back the next day). We do “high/low” at dinner each night (going around the table, every person has to say a ‘high’ and a ‘low’ of their day), and each day this week at least one of the boys have said that their ‘high’ was “When Margie was here” and their ‘low’ was “When Margie went home.” #2 she holds the homestead together while we’re away each day. And she holds it together much, much better than when/if we are actually home without her (i.e., the weekends)! We come home after work to a clean, happy, centered household. She has taken over our life. In a good way. And she runs the house like a finely tuned, well oiled, smoothly functioning machine (which is a lot more than I can say for my own house-running abilities). I cannot get over it. Seriously. Braydon and I both admitted to each other last night that we feel like we’re going to cry if we think about it too much. It is a deep deep deep sense of relief. #3 somehow, miraculously I believe, we’re on the same wavelength. She ‘gets’ what we’re tying to do, and she’s right on board. My only concern is that it just continues to send up red flags because it feel too good to be true. #4 Yet again, that old lesson has been re-learned by me, like it has been over and over and over again. I shoulda listened to my mother. She told me years ago, before we even brought the boys home, that we needed a Nanny (with a capital “N”). She knew we needed a Margie and she has brought it up with me repeatedly over the years. Did I listen? No. Bad girl I am. I should have listened. And now I have listened, and of course, MY MOTHER WAS RIGHT. #5 Still, though… I am glad to have had four years “Pre Margie” because it helps me to appreciate this now, and it helps me to know what other kinds of arrangements actually feel like. There are pro’s and con’s to them all. And I’m glad to know, first-hand, the in’s and out’s of some of them. Plus, wonderful people like Alex would not have been in the boys’ life had we done the full blown Nanny route years ago.
  • By far the hardest part of the whole equation continues to be getting dinner on the table at the end of the day. When I get home after work K & O are happy to see me. But M is thrilled to see me. She jumps, squeals, laughs, claps, smiles-smiles-smiles, rubs her face all over mine, and squeezes me tight. She wants to be held by me. And only me. Braydon will not do. She’ll cry if I give her to him. She wants to be held by me. Understandably. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love it. There’s nothing better in the world than coming home to that. And I want to hold her. But it is very hard to hold her and make dinner — especially since dinner needs to be on the table in 30 minutes or less from the time I walk in the door. Getting dinner made, at all, is a major feat. But getting dinner made, while trying to hold a bouncing baby girl (literally, bouncing in delight), is nearly impossible. Somehow we’re eating, but it is crazy-hard. That is the hardest part. And yet, I wouldn’t change it for the world either… because there is nothing like coming home to that baby girl jumping to get into my arms. Thank heaven for this little girl.
  • This morning, while we were all getting ready for work/school, I found Kyle sucking his thumb and staring out the window. I got down on my knees next to him and whispered, “What are you thinking Ky Ky?” He looked at me, and said, with his thumb still partially in his mouth, “I don’t like Margie days.” Trying to appear calm and relaxed (while my heart started to BLEED), I said, “Why not?” He said, “Because I just like Mommy days.” O.k. then. 1,000 daggers through the heart would be preferable. Just go ahead and rip my heart right out of my chest. Heaven help me.
  • Valentines Day. O.k., that is a whole other holiday when you’ve got young kids in school. It takes the romance right out of it, that’s for sure. At least for a working mom. Let me tell you. This week, on top of everything else, I needed to somehow accomplish the whole V-Day thing. Which includes making valentines for all their classmates. Given that they are in separate classrooms, and teachers need valentines too, we’re talking 34 valentines right there. Plus a few to put in the mail to their non-school friends (who they expressed a sincere need to send valentines to this year). And yes, we choose to send them to a Waldorf school. Yes, that is our choice. Yes. But… it means handmade valentines. Nothing less will do. So it goes. And then there’s the note sent home on Monday: “Please remember that on Friday we’ll be having our party, and each child should bring a treat to share.” Again, yes, Waldorf is our choice. So, I shouldn’t complain about the work involved. And I try not to. But that translates to: Mama Baking Goodies From Scratch. Store-bought cookies are not an option. Per Kyle’s request (read: begging and pleading), I agreed to make muffins. So, I just took 4 dozen mini muffins out of the oven. Blueberry Muffins for Kyle’s class. Chocolate Chip Muffins for Owen’s class. From scratch made from ingredients even a Waldorf school will appreciate. Most importantly, though, K & O will appreciate it. Much more than most 4 year olds would. It is so worth it. And so… call me crazy… but, I do it. I will admit, though, that at the end of a long work day… it is just a lot.
  • At the end of the day, I’m happy. And I’m also exhausted. EXHAUSTED.

Anyhoo… What’s posted here is just the very tippity tip tip tip of the iceberg. But like all good working mothers, I don’t have nearly enough time to do this subject justice. And that, my friends, is a big part of the problem– those of us actually doing it (in particular, I believe, the career&mommy gig ~~ building-maintaining-strategizing-a-full-blown-long-term-career while also being a real-intimately-involved-emotionally-connected-truly-present Mom), well, those of us actually doing it simply don’t have the time or energy to give this subject the time and energy it would require to convey its true complexities to others. And so it goes.