Small Things

How a Navy spouse club can be like Big Love

One of the spouses in my club has a two week old baby and came down with a fever this weekend. As she has two older kids, and our husbands are deployed, she could use a little help, so another spouse and I picked up her kids the last two days so she could rest with the baby and get well. Yesterday we took them all to the Zoo.

As I have three kids, and my friend has one, we wound up with 6 kids in all. It's really surprising how often we fill up every seat in my 8 passenger Outlook. We put the youngest two in a double stroller, and headed straight to the Children's Zoo, where there's a new playground, kid-sized picnic tables, and a petting zoo. It is quite a feat to keep tabs on all of them in a crowd (Labor Day weekend is probably not the best time to take a group of children to the San Diego Zoo), but we didn't lose any of them, and that is the number one goal, after all.

As we were shepherding the kids around, passing out drinks and snacks, yelling at them to walk, to stop picking flowers, to wait for us, etc., my friend commented that she and I might look like a pair of mormon-type moms with all our kids. I noticed she was in a dress, I was in a denim skirt with sneakers, we both had our hair up, and both daughters had dresses on, too. I grinned and said we made good sister-wives. She doesn't watch HBO, so I had to explain about Big Love.

The illusion only went so far, as at one point we both smelled freshly brewed coffee, and we are both addicts. She said we might have to get some. But then I noticed a stand selling beer, and half-fun-full-earnest suggested we get that instead. A little while later we settled our crew on a log bench at Dr. Zoolittle's Science Show, and my friend handed me a Corona with lime, shattering the mormon-like image. One beer got kicked over, which was totally predictable yet unavoidable. I eventually poured the remaining beer into a kids cup with a lid and one of those whistly-straws. (Don't worry, we did not confuse it with the kids' drinks.)

In the end, I decided that life with six kids definitely is easier with more than one mom. But while having a sister-wife might be handy during times like deployment, I think I can live with having Navy spouse friends instead. When times get tough, we team up pretty well.

The first day of catechism

My first grade son started catechism classes yesterday, beginning to prepare for his first communion in two years.  He seemed to have a good time, when he walked in several kids he'd met at vacation bible school this summer called out called out his name, and they all started acting silly together.

All the parents gathered outside for a meeting with the director of religious education at our parish. The children's ministry building is new this year for our parish, it had previously been a preschool, but our church took it over and renovated it so our kids now have space for classes and activities. Sorely needed. Several years ago I volunteered to teach a 5th grade catechism class, and we met in what is now a storage closet.

So behind this new building is a big play area, with shade, and most importantly, fences. While the director addressed all the parents, our couple dozen preschoolers, too young for catechism, played 40 feet away on the playground, close enough to watch but far enough to not interrupt grownup conversation. Surrounded by fences, and supervised by a couple of confirmation students.

The director told us he'll be leading a bible study for parents here in the back yard of the ministry building during all classes, and plans for us all to bring our young ones to play just as they did yesterday. I know he's always led those bible studies before, but I never considered going because they were always crowded into some corner of the church, and I knew my two girls would not be able to sit and color or play quietly indoors like that.

But now! My girls were so happy playing, and I looked around at all the moms, and seriously, I was afraid I might start crying. I am so looking forward to Thursday evenings now. To have all of my kids happily engaged, while I get to be in basically the best Book club ever with other parents struggling with the same lifestyle as mine . . . what a blessing! What a bonus to bringing my kid to catechism!

Last night, I couldn't get Jimmy to tell me anything about what they talked about in his class. I tried, but he said he didn't really want to talk about it. I suspect he was still processing the new classroom, the new teacher, the kids, and the workbook. Maybe he is at a loss as to how to sum up the lesson for the day. (Also, he lost a tooth right at bedtime, and may have been preoccupied with thoughts of the tooth fairy coming.)

But I think he'll be happy to return next Thursday. I know I will be.

I think it's the start of a new era

Last week my oldest child started first grade. He was in half-day kindergarten last year, from 11 to 2, but is finally on a full schoolday schedule. His school starts at 7:45 in the morning.

So this is it, folks. No more do my earliest days begin with preschool drop off at 9, or the occassional 8 AM doctors appointment. This mom-gig may be 24-7, 365, but I at least enjoyed sleeping in most mornings til 8. No more. For the rest of my childraising years, at least 17 years more, I will rise with the sun. Sometimes before it.

I am trying not to focus on how contrary to my nature this is. I have been falling asleep during Conan's monologue, barely able to switch off the tv through my sleepy fog. I am exhausted from my full days, but I think that Conan's move to 11:35 has tricked my mind into feeling like it is later. Last night , I didn't even make it to Conan. Maybe when Leno starts his ten o'clock show, it will cue me to sleep even earlier?

I am amazed how much more I am getting done each day. Both by rising earlier, and thanks to the extended schedule first grade affords. My drop-off and pick-up schedule is much saner than it was last year, when each day I had only an hour or so between trips to my kids' two schools. It is thanks to this block of over six hours (six hours!) uninterupted by obligatory school runs that I am getting some quality time on the computer to finally return to my blog. This day feels positively indulgent.

Now I am wondering where in the country they might still have full-day kinder. Because I've got two more kids yet to turn 5, and once I get used to this staying-in-one-place for 6 hours, it will be so hard to return to the all-day chauffering.

35 isn't mid-life, it's mid-project

I am turning 35 this month. My husband asked me how I feel about turning 35, and my answer was, "I don't." I don't feel anything about it. Because I really don't think about it. Maybe that's a nice collateral effect of being preoccupied with three small children all the time.

I've discussed birthdays and aging with a few people lately, and I've figured out that I see my life right now as a stage, an era in my life. Having kids at home all the time, being a stay-at-home mom, is hard, and chaotic, and  . . . restrictive in many ways. I absolutely chose this life, and cherish this life, even though I don't always handle it gracefully.

But I also know it is temporary. Fleeting, even. My life will change dramatically when they are all in school for most of the day. When they are all able to do chores, pour drinks, bathe themselves, and are potty-independant, it will be a whole new ballgame. They will still need me . . . but not so constantly, and not so physically. Hopefully a little more cerebrally.

A couple of friends recently talked about coming to terms with reaching our adult goals in our thirties, and then feeling bored, with no major goals around the bend. That's not a problem for me. This job is a temp job, and I even have an end date in sight.

My husband is eligible for retirement from the Navy when we're 42. And even if we have another child, he or she would be school age by then, as well. So while I have no idea where we will be living, or what my husband's job will be, I know that age 42 will be a life-changing door to opportunity to me. Many restrictions lifted. More time for my individual pursuits.

When I've discussed this with my husband, he grins and says, "Who said I'm getting out at 20? That could be be when it just gets interesting!" We'll see. I'm open to discussion, when the time comes. Regardless, there will be a new era, new goals to plan.

For now, I am but halfway through the current plan. Mid-project, still working out the kinks, haven't quite found the balance between my kids needs and my own. Tinkering with a couple new strategies, particularly in the stress-management area.

Boredom is not a problem. I'm OK with 35. It's actually better than 30 was. I've been abundantly blessed with family, and lots of it, which keeps me busy but happy. It's going to be a good birthday.

I think something's calling

I had a long talk with a fellow Navy spouse today, and my heart just filled with . . . recognition. Confirmation of our shared experience. I don't know why, when I have so often told others how important it is to find support among people in the same boat, I continually forget it myself. Why do I have to be hit head over the head to be reminded that we struggle with the same stresses, and obstacles, and pitfalls.

I may manage to keep moving forward, just barely handling my load, but always, always there are women just like me starting the same path, with no answers. Stumbling at the same blocks I did. With no map.

Why are we always, always reinventing the wheel? This is not unchartered territory. Why are we so timid about sharing the load?

I guess I feel like I haven't got all the answers. Not sure that I have any wisdom to share. But I do know a couple things.

1. Knowing in advance that the path we choose is hard, is no reason to give up searching for a way to make it easier.

2. Narrowly focusing on always bearing our own load can prevent us from noticing when another's load is slipping.

I've missed it a couple of times. I can't let myself miss another. Especially not if it's me.

Mom's Golden Rule

If there is one rule that my kids learn to obey and never question, one rule that they never need reminders for, that they internalize so completely that it becomes instinctive behavior, let it be this:

Do Not Talk to Mommy While She Is Counting Coffee Scoops.

It's not like they would ever get punished for breaking this rule. If I'm in a really good mood, I will just ask them once again to please, please, please wait until I am done scooping the coffee.

If I am grouchy, mostly they get ignored, glared at, or exasperated sighs thrown their way. But if they mess up my count, they might get snapped at to be quiet for a minute.

Today poor Mary came and found me ten minutes later at the computer and asked me if I was done scooping the coffee yet. So clearly she needs a bit more explanation. And perhaps a bit more attention?

Cuz you can't leave a baby home alone (. . . can you?)

Driving Jimmy to school takes 8 minutes. He goes to afternoon kindergarten, and the baby sometimes really needs a nap about 45 minutes before I have to take Jimmy to school. I can't put her down earlier, because that's when I'm taking Mary to preschool, and I can put her down when I get back, but then I have to wake her to go pick up Mary. There are only 1 hour windows for her to sleep in between drop-offs and pick-ups.

Unless I left her sleeping in her crib for the 8 minutes it takes to drop off Jimmy. It's so tempting. I won't ever do it, I know it's probably a bad idea, I'm sure I could even be arrested. Even though I know the risk is so ridiculously trivial. You might even say, with the number of car accidents that happen within two miles of home, she's actually safer at home in her crib.

Still. It's so darn tempting. She could get a full hour more more of sleep if I didn't wake her. Sigh.

I can't get no . . . concentration

I have often felt like becoming a mom came with a case of attention deficit disorder. I can't seem to focus on one task at a time and get it done, whether it's laundry, cleaning the kitchen, typing a blog post, even checking email! It's not just that kids frequently interupt me with immediate snack/potty/booboo needs. Even when they are asleep, it is hard for me to stick to one job through completion.

I have realized about myself that I am a binge worker. I work best alone, in total concentration, with no distractions, and with a deadline. This worked fine when I was in college and could hunker down 24 hrs before a paper deadline and do nothing but write. When I started working more shifts to pay the bills, my grades plummeted because I didn't have the freedom to hunker down for 24 hrs straight. And I never learned to spread my work out over time.

For me, the getting into the work-groove takes time. And if I know I will have to walk away from an unfinished job, I just don't even want to start. This is why the laundry piles up so high, as do the dishes and the mail.

I am no good at multitasking by design. I multitask by necessity--making dinner, supervising homework, while washing the teakwondo uniform needed by 4 pm. I get the immediate needs done. But I just can't seem to plan, say, 30 minutes of folding laundry, 30 minutes for cleaning bathrooms, 30 minutes for sorting mail and papers, etc. I can't make myself do it. I want to take a 5 hour block and get one job DONE.

My husband would say, too bad. Suck it up. Time management is a monkey on my back. That's all I got now, time to run and get the boy from Kindergarten!

Why does Palin make me cry?

I've been very emotional about Sarah Palin since her announcement a week ago, and I have genuinely tried to examine why.

I like her, I identify with her loving a big family, I appreciate that she lives unapologetically. I deeply, and very personally, celebrate that she is a high-profile example of how we should value all babies, even the inconvenient and the imperfect. Even when it changes your life and breaks your heart.

I don't agree with everything she says. I don't even always like her tone, though speakers at both conventions used sarcasm and condescension to play to their crowd. And that's her job, to be the pitbull and appeal to the people to whom that tactic appeals. (I am not one of them.)

For a few years now, while struggling to hang on to my identity and at least few IQ points while raising babies and preschoolers, I have said the words "I can't" way too often. I can't take that job, I can't take that class, I can't volunteer right now, I can't go to an HOA meeting, I can't even go to the movies. Because I have small kids. Because right now, I have babies, no childcare, no nearby family, a husband deployed . . . oops, I'm getting myself emotional again, let me get through this to the good part . . .

The peptalk I often give myself is that I chose to be a stay-at-home mom, and right now, this is exactly what I want to do for my kids. And someday, when they are older, when they need me less, I will be able to go out and do more, get involved, improve the HOA, grow my business, get an MFA, volunteer at my church, go to a Feminists for Life conference, take guitar lessons . . .

And I think that deep down in my sub-concious, I worry, what if I'm kidding myself? What if this is what I am, and choosing to be a stay-at-home mom, and for so long, will erode the . . . potential for me to do more? Will my abilities, my "talents" if you will, whatever gifts I have to bring to the table, atrophy if I have another kid and keep choosing to stay home?

I say Sarah Palin is my new hero, because the day I saw her for the first time, she made me stop saying "I can't." I'm not going to run for PTA president or city council anytime soon, because my choice is still the same--I want to stay home with my babies right now. But it's not because I can't. It's because I just won't. Not yet.