Frustrated. Need to Vent.

Thursday, June 7th, 2012

I am so frustrated. I can’t get anything done. I am like a chicken with my head cut off, running on a treadmill. Which means I’m not getting anywhere. I don’t even know what I’m writing about now except to say I have all these thoughts on posts I want to write but I can’t write them because all the other “stuff” gets in the way.

This morning my plan was to take 3 hours to write. Cleo was going to take the kids to the park. But then we couldn’t install the car seats correctly in her car and things just went array. After 45 minutes of trying to make them work, I said forget it. I’d just take them and pick them back up. By the time we did that, it was 10:45 and I had two back-to-back work calls from 11-noon. Don’t get me wrong: the car safety stuff is my biggest priority. I knew I was doing the right thing. But it doesn’t mean I can’t get frustrated about this sh-t.

I sat in my car in the parking lot eating a chicken leg (just realized if I wanted to be “clever” I could say my headless chicken had one less leg on the treadmill. Analogy: even less being accomplished).  My laptop sat in its case. Calls end and Phil calls.

“Hey, do you want to go to the movies?” Whhaaaatttt? He’s a screenwriter and has to do some research on his next project. I’m flattered he asked me, but I almost choked out the chicken leg.

“I can’t honey,” I said, as calmly as possible. “I have to go get the kids and Cleo.” He was there with the whole cluster-f–k carseat thing, so I’m surprised he didn’t sense how flabbergasted I was. He must really believe that I can handle all this. Ha! What a joke!

Call ends, I toss the chicken leg in the garbage, wipe the grease on my pants and went.

My problem is certainly not unique. But I keep saying I want to simplify. And for a time, I do. Then things build up and errands happen, calls come up and I’m back to feeling incredibly stressed.

I need to remind myself that I am incredibly blessed. I have two beautiful babies. I don’t work full time so I get to spend more time with them than most working moms. But I also think therein lies my problem. I am scattered because I don’t have a full time job. If I did, I’d go to the office everyday. Kiss them in the morning and then at night. Have a schedule. But having a “freelance” schedule can often mean no schedule at all, so I’m all over the place. Which leads to guilt. Lots of it. Should I be blogging about my kids or should I be spending time with them? It’s a conundrum.

Then, I wrote a post this week that I really loved (please read it). It came from the heart and was about how they grow up so fast. I think that is why I feel guilty for not holding on to every moment. Or when a day gets wasted, like today, I get so bent out of shape. I need to practice my hypnotherapy. In all my free time.

Oh, and by the way, I was already weepy from my writing the post on Tuesday when I went to get Fia from school. I walk in and guess what’s playing? Puff the f–king Magic Dragon. Seriously? That is arguably the saddest song on the planet. I almost crawled into a ball in the middle of Fia’s circle time. Yes honey, your mama is a whack job.

Thanks for letting me vent. Now that I am posting this one, I feel like I have at least accomplished something today. In other words, for these few minutes, I put my head back on and hopped off the damn treadmill. Lord help me.

Fia’s First Girl Fight

Monday, April 30th, 2012

I don’t think this milestone is for the baby book. But it did happen. Fia got in a fight at school. And unfortunately, I think she suffered the brunt of it.

Her pre-preschool called to tell me. I happened to be in my hypnotherapy session (ironic, as I’m learning peace), so Phil spoke to them. Apparently she and another girl were playing on the carpet and the teacher was at a table nearby. Next thing you know, Fia is sitting in a corner looking upset. I can’t believe she didn’t cry or scream. This is a girl who sobs for a bandaid when a pebble hits her pinkie. I think she was in a state of semi-shock.

No one actually saw what happened, but they think they were both fighting over a scarf (good god, it starts early). They think Fia may have then gone in to hug the girl… and the girl lashed out. She grabbed her nose area and did some good scratching. Not sure if her parents own nail scissors, but if not, maybe buy a pair? Then she bit her. Fia had welts on her arm from the tooth marks, but luckily it didn’t break the skin.

I know Fia’s hugging can get out of control, but since no one saw, I don’t want to jump to conclusions that that’s what was happening. The teacher had the girl apologize, and then had Fia sit in her office for comfort, where I guess she sat quietly. The picture of that breaks my heart–her little legs dangling off the chair, her head hanging low.  I’m sure she was shook up and had her feelings hurt.

I don’t want to be a helicopter parent. Nor do I want to be overly dramatic, as this is probably the first of many squabbles. But I can’t help but feel like a mama bear when my baby is hurt–physically, emotionally or otherwise.

When I went to drop her off the next day, I ran right into the other girl and her dad. Thinking I’d break the ice I said, “Hey–I hear we had a little incident yesterday.” Now if that had been me, I would have bent over backwards to apologize. Instead, the dad basically shrugged his shoulders and said, “Yeah, sorry about that. Her sister also has a lot of bite marks. Must be a phase…kids bounce right back.” Whhaaattt? You give my child welts and say it’s just “a phase?” What about a little discipline? Like “Don’t do that Anne?” If there’s one thing I can’t tolerate it’s RIE parents (ie: we just like to let the kids work it out themselves…). What utter bullsh-t. In this case, I don’t even think the dad has a parenting method. He was just oblivious. My friend Cassandra wrote a horrifying blog about lack of parenting she experienced on a playdate. This must just be part of motherhood.

I don’t get it though. I want my kid to treat others well and be treated well in return. I want to teach her that biting, hitting, even hugging is wrong when it’s not welcomed. I would think that would be a universal goal.

At any rate, Fia is fine and her war wounds have healed. And if she ever does hug too hard, believe me, I’ll swoop right in and put a stop to it. Because I’m that kind of parent.

Full-Time Help: And Better For It

Tuesday, March 27th, 2012

I’m not ashamed to say that I now have a full-time nanny. Cleo started part time, with the understanding that we go full time once Emmett arrived. She is an amazing woman with a heart of gold. She is honest as the day is long. She is head over heels in love with my babies. She takes care of me too. For example, last week, she made us a WHOLE chicken–restaurant quality. She helps me with house keeping. And most importantly, she gives me the opportunity to enjoy each of my babies one at a time.

Having Cleo is also preventing me from falling into the “mom martyr complex,” which I’ve seen some of my friends do. They constantly complain about how tired and frustrated they are, how they hate their husbands, yet choose to do nothing about it–whether it be a nanny or part time preschool/daycare, etc. It’s one thing if you can’t afford it. It’s another if you make a choice to be miserable.

I also think it’s really hard to juggle two kids without one inevitably feeling the shaft. If I can just be with Fia or just be with Emmett at different intervals throughout the day, and get some “me time” to boot, I am a happier human being. I know Fia loves having my undivided attention at times. I’m sure Emmett appreciates it too, as I don’t have to let him cry for very long if I have Cleo there to help.  In other words, the reason behind hiring a full time nanny wasn’t so I could go out and play tennis all day, everyday. It’s so I could give 100% of my attention to my children, my writing, my husband, the bill paying, etc, one-at-a-time--without feeling frantic, followed by angry, then losing my sh-t.  Or popping Xanax all day. (Kidding). For me, I’m a better mom because of it.

But I know this is a controversial issue, as seen by my “sitter chronicles” last summer. A handful of moms railed on me for not being with Fia 100% of the time.  And now that I have full time help–gasp–I’m sure some think I’m terribly indulgent. Frankly I just feel lucky and blessed that it’s all worked out this way.

Anyone care to weigh in?

Fia Friday: Too Cool For School

Friday, February 10th, 2012

I snapped this before she went to preschool today. Hilarious.

She Rocks It...