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.
Add a Comment
blog, juggling, nanny, park, preschool, sahm, scattered, school, time, toddler, working mom, writing | Categories:
Fearless Feisty Mama, Mom Situations
Sunday, October 17th, 2010
I swear something happened after the birth of my child that has affected my brain circuitry. Lord knows I want to be a good mom. I try and multitask with my husband, baby and job but…
3 WEEKS AGO…
–I took our cat, Wayne Sanchez, to the vet and paid $300 to find out he is still obese (He barely fits in his Sherpa bag). Then I ran errands. The next day my keys were missing. For nearly a week I searched while pretending nothing was amiss. After pressing our apartment buzzer every time I came home, Phil asked me to fess up. Then he said I need to focus more. True. I need to be more aware. True.
Wayne Sanchez and his co conspirator
To redeem myself, I took a time out and sat in a quiet corner. I tried to retrace my steps, mentally. Wayne rubbed against me -boom! I had it, the Sherpa bag! I felt like I had just won the Pulitzer Prize for Missing Things. I called Phil on his cell and shouted, “I FOUND THEM IN WAYNE’S FAT CAT CARRIER!” “Um, okay, I’m in a meeting.” He wasn’t nearly as excited as I was.
2 WEEKS AGO…
–I was really trying to stay focused; I wanted Phil to see my improvement. We went to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens and, whilst in the tropics room, he asked me to hold his Ray-bans. Instead of putting them in the diaper bag, I made what I thought was an intelligent decision… I held them so I didn’t accidentally crush them in the bag—something I’ve done before. I was smitten with myself. We walked outside and he asked for them. I looked into my hands – they had vanished. Poof! Just like that.
“A palm tree must have plucked them from my palm,” I said, attempting to joke.
Sigh. I went back into the jungle and crawled on all fours, searching Bougainvillea’s and Bromeliad’s to many a strange look. Nothing. If anyone goes there and finds them in the foliage, please let me know.
1 WEEK AGO…
–I blew so many fuses in my brain that I needed a circuit breaker. We were at the airport, checked in and at our gate. I went to change our seats while Phil watched Fi. The counter agents had me leave our boarding passes for them to work on. I went to sit down and Phil said, “you’re being paged.” Huh?
Before he could spit out the next line – Now what did you lose? – I bolted. Think. Think. Think. What. What? What? I had my laptop. Fia was accounted for. I looked in my purse. OH MY GOD. MY WALLET IS MISSING. My bolt turned into a sprint. At security they said it wasn’t their page, that I must have left it at check-in. I got to the counter, hunched over, gasping for air. “I’m the o-o-n-one wh-wh-who left my wallet.” As I said this I realized I was holding half a bottle of formula. No clue why. It just added to the absurdity of it all. The agent told me another worker had already taken the wallet to my gate.
As I began to run back to security, I stopped dead in my tracks. I turned towards the agents and frantically wailed: “I don’t have my ID to get through! My flight leaves in 20 minutes.”
They must have taken pity on me, because a very kind, calm agent took me by the arm. “I’ll help you honey. It’s hard being a mom,” she said, as she glanced at the seemingly random half full baby bottle. We cut to the front of the line and she explained to TSA the problem. They asked for my boarding pass. Time once again stood still as the realization hit me: MY BOARDING PASS IS AT THE GATE. My entire torso began gesturing towards D-15. I was nearly hysterical. As my arms waved madly, formula began to bounce out of the bottle, spraying others – I swore I heard one woman say, “She needs a Xanax.” They called TSA supervision. I whimpered my pathetic situation to them, and they let me through.
I sprinted to the gate counter past a bewildered Phil and into the arms of yet another kind agent who was standing there—smiling– with my wallet. Dripping in sweat and panting, I tried to explain all that had happened. “Slow down and breathe,” she said, “Motherhood is hard – Just don’t forget your baby!”
I dejectedly walked back to my family. “What the hell is going on?” Phil asked.
I begged, “Don’t be mad at me. You have to promise. Even they (gesturing towards the agents) said being a mom is hard.”
- Fia, obviously unaffected by Mom’s commotion
“Okay, okay, just calm down. You’re kind of making a scene,” he said. True again.
“I left my wallet at check-in.” If my head had hung any lower it would have hit the filthy floor of LaGuardia.
He patted my leg. Fia hugged me, then bit my knee and laughed. I began to breathe. We boarded. I collapsed into my seat and slept the entire time.
– I didn’t lose anything.
– So far so good.
–I booked a woman’s yoga retreat this winter. In Belize. My justification: I need to learn to focus. Phil didn’t buy it, but he did give me his blessing (He probably needs the break). It will be my first trip away from Fi, so at least I know I won’t lose her.
Add a Comment
Airplane, airport, airport security, baby traveling, boarding, boarding pass, focus, focusing, lose, losing items, losing things, mom brain, scattered, scattered mom, security, travel, travel fiasco, travel tips, traveling, traveling advice, traveling with baby | Categories:
Fearless Feisty Mama, Have Baby, Will Travel