This was where Frances, George and I were earlier today:
The local McDonald's indoor playground, probably one of the most germ-ridden, stinkiest, and loudest places on earth. After a failed attempt to go to the indoor pool (apparently the sound of distant thunder is cause to evacuate even the pool that is inside. I am all for safety, but *sheesh!*), I was desperate for the kids to get some runaround time other than within the four walls of our house. It is never a good sign when you are desperate by 10:30am on a Monday morning.
Today is just one of those days for me. The kind when you feel like a failure as a parent because you are far too impatient with your kids; the kind when you wish (in that very moment) that you could be a little more go-with-the-flow and you are instead as inflexible as they come; the kind where as soon as you put the kids down for their naps the skies clear and it is sunny and beautiful outside (even you, Mother Nature??). I'm annoyed, I'm sad, I'm frustrated, and I have let the circumstances of the day get the better of me.
There is a wonderful sentiment I have heard several times in my yoga classes--"Don't let anyone or anything steal your peace." Isn't that great? And yet even after a weekend of yoga and an early class this morning, I did just that--I let the morning steal my peace.
And so, I will attempt to take back my peace this afternoon. I may not be perfectly patient, easy-going, and always rational, but I know I'll be better than I was this morning. And I won't let my imperfect parenting steal my peace. Not this time.
I have a confession to make: for the last two weeks, George
has been in a summer camp sponsored by his preschool. And Frances has been finishing her last two
weeks of Kindergarten. What does this
mean? For the last two weeks I have had
approximately 2.5 hours per day to
myself; by far the most amount of alone time since stopping my law practice.
In typical motherly fashion, I’ve spent most of it running errands
(grocery, Target, Sams, fabric store, back to Target—can’t escape the pull of
that red bullseye), cleaning, or tackling those house projects that are either
loud (and thus not doable during nap time) or located in the kids’ rooms. But as this second and final week of freedom
is winding up, I decided to get crazy this morning:
I took a walk. Please
notice there is not a soul around, and if you could hear what I heard when I
took this picture it would only be my footsteps, the wind in the trees, and the
happy mockingbird that seemed to follow me for the entire duration.
I felt a little guilty enjoying the late morning fresh air
when Will has been slaving away at the office for 20 hours a day—so I promptly
took a picture, emailed it to him (“wish you were here!”) and went about my
walk. Guilty conscious gone. Okay, not really; but I do have enough sense
to know that while Will’s workload has reached the “inhumane” level, he doesn’t
expect that I do the same on my end.
The funny thing is my entire walk took only about 20
minutes. These trails are located in a
park very close to our house and I’ve walked them many times with the kids and
it always takes at least 45 minutes to walk about half of them. With Frances and George in tow, it’s less of
a peaceful cardio session and more of a stick-collecting, mud-stomping,
leaf-crunching adventure. And I wouldn’t
trade those walks for anything in the entire world. But I also loved (and needed) my
faster paced walk. Twenty minutes later,
I felt like a new woman.
I guess Frances and George aren’t the only ones learning
something new during these two weeks.
One of my college friends, Susan, is expecting her first
baby (a girl!!) later this year and asked for recommendations on how best to record
her daughter’s all-too-quick first years—whether there was something I wish I
had done (or thankful I did do) with Frances and George.By her own admission, she is private and is
unsure if blogging is the way to go.
It was such a great question and one that I had honestly not
thought about until she asked … so being that I am (apparently) not a very private
person, I wanted to brainstorm my answer on my blog. And I would love to hear from others on their
recommendations because I know there is no right way to preserve those lightning-fast
first months.
Baby Books
If you have told even one person you are expecting a baby,
you are sure to get at least 5 different baby books to help you chronicle that
first year. Use them! Or rather, pick your favorite one and fill it
up as best you can (and then immediately, without
guilt, give the rest to Goodwill; they will be used and loved by other
newbie mothers and you won’t have them around as constant reminders that you
have failed to fill all of them up with baby memories). Chances are they will all contain similar
content (monthly stats—weight, height, etc.; “firsts”—first smile, first tooth,
first step; family information—grandparents, great-grandparents, godparents,
etc.), so just go with what format you like and think will be the most efficient
way to keep up your book.
Both Frances and George had calendar baby books (from
Current catalog, I think) which I loved.
Twelve months’ worth of information that you personalized starting with the
month your baby was born, lots of “firsts” stickers to use on the exact day those
events happened (if you have your head together enough to remember; otherwise,
feel free to “guestimate!”), and plenty of room for pictures and other memorabilia
that you will want to hold onto (hospital bracelets are my favorite). They were very simple, which is what I needed
that first year (especially with number 2), but they don’t skimp on both
emotional and technical information that you may want to remember for years
down the road (i.e., how much did your huge 3-month-old weigh again??).
One last thought on the baby book—try to record memories as
quickly as possible. Otherwise, the baby
book may become just another stressor in your life of a “to-do” item you have
yet to check off. Have it in a handy
place (the kitchen is where we kept ours because we seem to be in there most
often) and set aside a designated time each week (or day if you’re super
organized) to breeze through it and write down anything that’s recently happened. Of course, I would also avoid the “all or
nothing” mentality—don’t stop writing things down because you missed a month or
two. It’s okay; just pick up again where
you left off and go back later if you can.
Memory Boxes
If you have read my blog, you know I am anti-clutter to a
fault (I have a standing weekly appointment at the Goodwill donation
center). But even I recognize the
importance of keeping those irreplaceable items for no other reason than
because they mean the world to you—baby shoes, first pacifier, first
tooth. So I have a memory box for each
child (two now for Frances) that I use to store those little treasures. I have to weed out a lot, which is hard; but
one box every four years seems reasonable.
I want Frances and George to have memories of their childhood—but not an
entire basement full.
Pictures
Before I started blogging, Will was the family photographer
and I am so very, very thankful that he was.
In that first year, particularly those first six months, your baby will
change in ways you won’t even believe. Take
lots and lots of pictures—you will never regret it. In fact, I would shy away from blogging
during the first year anyway (especially if you’re already wary of it) because most
of the changes occurring in your baby are visual (pictures) or can be captured
in the baby book.
Some of my greatest joys have come from looking back on
candid pictures of Frances and George as babies—I can almost still feel them in
my arms when I scroll through the images on our computer. That time goes quickly as it is; I would just
try and capture them on film as much as possible.
Three thoughts that piggyback on the picture recommendation:
1)
Have an organized system on your computer to
store your pictures;
We keep ours in a chronological month/year format (i.e.,
October 2008; November 2008, etc.). It’s
not a perfect system for recalling pictures if you can’t remember the exact
month you took it, but you can almost always remember the season and the year
(let’s hope) and start from there. We do
designate folders for special occasions like beach trips (“Sandbridge 2010”) and
other vacations (“Spain 2012” – woot!), but keep those folders in the same chronological
order as the other pictures.
2)
Get a good camera or cell phone with a decent camera
that will inspire you to take pictures;
I don’t mean that you have to spend $700+ on the latest
Canon SLR camera—in fact, I wouldn’t do that.
The more portable the camera the better because when you have a diaper
bag, a car seat, a stroller, a purse, and a baby to lug around the last thing
you want is a big, heavy camera. You
want something that you can take easily out of one of the five bags you are
carrying and snap a few pictures of your first outing to the park, first dip in
the pool, or first visit with the cousins.
Since getting my iPhone last fall, it has unintentionally
become my daily camera for candid shots (because I always have it with
me), but I still use my regular camera (a Canon G12) for special occasions and trips because
I feel like I have more control over what the pictures look like.
3)
Download pictures as soon as possible.
There is nothing more intimidating than a digital camera or
phone with over 600 pictures patiently stored in the memory card and waiting
for their instructions. Download as
frequently as possible, store them in the month/year folder, print out your favorites for updating your frames, and delete the memory
card (along those lines, I highly recommend a backup system for your pictures—CDs,
iCloud, or something similar).
I use Walgreen's website to print out most of my pictures for next to nothing and hang them around the house.
Videos
I credit Will (and Apple computer) 100% with the idea of
making video montages of the first years with Frances and George. They take some time, but they are by far my
favorite way of capturing their childhood—those early newborn movements, the
toddler giggle, their sibling playtimes.
Sight, sound, and music—the perfect combination.
Frances's 1st year
George's 1st year
If you have the patience (and a Mac), I highly recommend
learning how to make these videos. The
program itself is very user friendly; the hard part is narrowing down pictures,
video clips and music choices. Will’s
videos tend to be long (which I love), but you can make them as short as you’d
like.
Some of my favorite shorter videos ...
Frances counting to ten in Spanish
Frances and George and their endless energy
Blogging
As they have gotten older, blogging has been my favorite way
of preserving their childhood. It doesn’t
have to be a public blog either (like mine); you can make the settings for
invited readers only (which I better be one, Missy, should you go that
route : )). My motivation behind
blogging has changed over these last two years:
·
My blog started as a way for me to keep myself
mentally stimulated after coming from a highly verbal profession (lawyer) to a
highly emotional one (full-time mother).
There is no doubt, it still meets that goal; although as it turns out,
this new profession is plenty mentally stimulating as it is.
·
My parents, Will’s parents, our extended family,
and our friends have all been able to keep up with Frances and George on a nearly daily basis. I’ve had many people tell me they feel like
they know my children even though they haven’t seen them in a year or so (or ever!)—I never
get tired of hearing that. If I can
capture their personalities in writing and share them with those that mean the
most to me, my mission is accomplished.
·
Will has been good about printing out my blog
every year for my “surprise” Christmas present and I couldn’t be happier. I’m not a scrapbooker (but if you are, this is
another excellent way to keep memories!), so to have a hard copy of my
blog is simply priceless.
Should you decide to start a blog, my one suggestion is to
have a good schedule for writing and stick to it. I post something every-other day (usually)
and that has worked for me—but, of course, this is part of “my job.” If you work outside the home, once a week or
three times a month might be more doable.
Like anything else, if you don’t do it regularly you run the risk of
always playing catch-up with your posts (Christmas pictures in April, while
adorable, don’t always capture the spirit of the season).
What we wish we had
done
I talked with Will about this one and we came up with two
thoughts:
· 1) Do a better job of annual handprint images (ceramic or even finger paint). We don’t have any of these, except those they
did in preschool that aren’t great quality.
Looking back, it would be nice to have a handprint from each year (maybe
on their birthday). Those little hands
aren’t so little anymore (*sob!*).
· 2) Date,
date, date everything. For these
last two years, France especially has taken an interest in art and
writing/reading. Needless to say we have
a lot of homemade treasures floating around the house and some of them have
been so great I have framed and hung them in various rooms. Unfortunately, I failed to put the date they
were made anywhere on them. This is one
of the “Truths of Parenthood”—you always think you will remember everything
about a certain age (8 months; 2 ½ years; etc.) because at the time, it is the
greatest age yet. But you never
remember. So, put a date on it and you
don’t have to!
Kid art in the guest room
One of my favorites by Frances--an owl--so recent that I have yet to hang it on the wall.
And, I think I’m finally done! I know other parents have different (and
probably better) suggestions on how to record keep, so I would love to hear
from anyone—I know Susan would appreciate it as well.
Thanks again, Susan, for the great question. Here's to a happy and healthy pregnancy! And a happy Saturday to everyone!
Two years ago tomorrow was my last day as a practicing attorney. And the kids looked like this:
Two days ago, I took this picture.
I think somebody comes in at night when we're all asleep and stretches George from head to toe. That's the most logical explanation I can come up with these days as to why he is so very, very big. Well, that and my stellar stay-at-home mothering skills of course; those should never be underestimated.
Two years ago, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Just like having your first newborn, if someone had told me what my day-to-day life was going to be like I would never have believed them. How could I have? To be in the trenches of parenthood is not something that can be captured in words--it's far too complicated, wonderful, difficult, exhilarating, mind-numbing, exciting, humbling, and all-encompassing to be simplified by language. And yet, here I sat every nap time for these past two years trying my best to capture our time on this blog.
I talked with a woman this morning at yoga who is pregnant with her third baby. She plans to stay home once the baby comes (with her 3 and 5-year-old as well; let's all send her our blessings :) ) and she asked me if I liked being a full-time mother. Her question caught me off guard not because I hadn't been asked that before, but because I hadn't been asked in a long time. Without missing a beat I said, "I love it!" Whew - that's a relief!
True, I have no idea what her life will be like with an infant and two preschoolers (YET anyway...right, Will?!), which I can only imagine will be quite different than what I do. And in many ways, I am envious that she gets to experience stay-at-home motherhood from that infant stage rather than the 18-month and up stage where I started. But that seems to be what I see as a lucky pattern I have developed in my life. I get to say that I was both a working mother and a stay-at-home mother, just like I get to say I was both a professional dancer and a student and an attorney. I actually got to do it all - just not at the same time.
Two years and 329 blog posts later, I am still lucky. The days are long, but the years have been short--far too short for my taste. And if the kids and Will will still let me, I'd like to keep this job for the foreseeable future. It might be the only one listed above that I love more now than the first day I started.
It is easily the most underpaid or overpaid job I've ever held, depending on whether you consider "kisses" to be a method of payment.
And I do.
Happy Thursday, everyone! Thank you for sticking with me these last two years : )
[If you want to see how I handled my new job two years ago (hint: not very well), hereis my first post-attorney post]
It was faint and scarcely detected in a breeze or two, but it was there.
That chilly, wet, earthy smell that you forget each winter only to
joyfully remember when it hits you at just the perfect moment--when the
shortest month is already feeling like the longest month and even the heartiest
of squirrels are in hiding.
That smell of spring is healing. Somewhere deep in our
DNA as a member of the living earth, our bones and our brains are stirred more
than we know. I can fully understand why spring sets forth a happy
busyness all around us--the flower buds pop up overnight, the birds dart from
limb to limb gathering nesting material (and quite possibly zipping around just
for the fun of it. I know I would.), and neighbors who you haven't seen
since October emerge from their dark homes to soak up some much-needed vitamin
D as the sound of lawnmowers becomes the symphony of the season.
I am no less susceptible to this spring energy; in fact, I
gladly succumb to the call of the outside and that almost desperate need to
clean out the dust from the indoors. Even with just the early hint of
warmer weather yesterday, I've started my spring wish list for 2013:
- plant several herbs that I almost always use on a weekly
basis (basil, cilantro, mint, thyme, and rosemary; any others that I'm
missing?);
- revamp my urns with colorful flowers;
- try new recipes using fresh, local produce, thanks to
Dominion Harvest that is set to make its first delivery next week (I am
unnaturally giddy about this one);
- start composting with the unused parts of that local produce
and other household waste (this might be a pipe dream, but I have always wanted
to do this. *Cough, cough* Will? *Ahem*);
- complete the 40 bags in 40 days from last year (so very,
very therapeutic for me);
- tackle as many projects as possible on Will's
"Household To-Do" list. He's actually making the list for himself,
but I've seen several items I could easily do myself (except for the compost pile, obviously), especially since I am the
one staying at home (sheesh!); and
- spend as much time as humanly possible (and that I can legitimately justify) outside with the family.
Spring can't come soon enough (particularly for those in
Storm Nemo's way - please be safe this weekend!).
I’ve had my iPhone for about one week and with the
exception of a few bumps in the road, I am getting more used to it by the day
and (as much as it pains me to say this) I kind of, sort of love it. We are an Apple family already, but I’ve
tried my best to stay as unplugged as possible while around the children—no
iPad, no iPhone, a barely working cell phone, no Wii, no toys with blinking
lights—you get the picture. But once
that barely working cell phone became a non-working cell phone, I knew it was
only a matter of time before I caved in to that aspect of technology. If nothing else, I knew the camera function
on the iPhone would allow me to capture some of those precious candid moments
with the children that I so often missed because I left my nice camera safely
at home.
My learning curve is steep, so please excuse the many blurry
images.
My first picture with the iPhone—George and me at one of our
favorite neighborhood parks.
Navigating the nature trails.
Resting and smiling – a rare moment with George.
Our usual after-school playground romp. Without a doubt, Frances completes us.
Another fun outing with George to the James River. It was an incredibly beautiful day.
Playing hide-and-seek with his stuffed cat.
Will’s attempt at Bikram yoga. I’m not sure how much cash I would fork over
to see his 6’5” stick frame in a hot yoga class, but it would be a lot. And it would be worth every penny.
The elusive Joe!
For the last 18 months, George and Joe have played together
at least once a week completely happenstance and unplanned. Joe’s grandfather takes care of him during
the day and we both have the same parenting philosophy with our young boys—get them
out and run them ragged. So, we constantly
found ourselves at the same playgrounds.
George and Joe get along incredibly well—Joe is sweet, sweet, sweet, and
George mimics this lovely behavior (woohoo!) in return. Funnily enough, big Joe (the grandpa) and I
have become fast friends, too, even though I am the same age as his daughter,
Joe’s mother. But in all of these months
of play dates, I have yet to get a picture of George’s bud until today. Now Will can finally see who has been wearing
George out each week.
I’m feeling a little scattered these days, really since
school started. Like the kids returning
to a routine, I’m trying to figure out my new schedule, which includes a
heckuva lot more driving than I’m used to (the despondent cry of many a parent,
I know) and pockets of unexpected downtime (often away from home) where I find
myself thinking, “I know there is something
productive I could be doing now … but I have no idea what it is.” I’m hoping to get my bearings again soon; but
until then, my blog posts may be a bit scattered as well. You have been warned.
______________________________________
Saturday was “Playground Clean-up Day” at George’s
school. He doesn’t officially start
until Monday, but we’ve had at least three separate open houses since spring so
I feel very much a part of the school family already.
_______________________________________
George and Daddy mowing the lawn.
I am pretty sure that every boy family has a father/son
lawnmower picture somewhere in its vaults; but I’ll be darned if it’s not the cutest
thing in the world when you see your own offspring mimic his handsome
father. It almost took my breath away,
which is ridiculous in itself. But
considering my emotional state this past week, no one should be surprised.
__________________________________________
Frances in pigtails.
I have nothing to say about these pictures other than I am
completely in love with this girl. And
the fact that the pigtails make her look younger than her almost five-year-old
age is a huge plus in my book. She is
growing up too fast as it is.
___________________________________________
A typical Saturday night in the Homiller house.
Tired parents.
Energetic kids. Content Marshall.
My little heaven.
Gram-E
came over for her usual 5pm visit with the children. On a typical
evening, she reads to the children while I finish dinner, reads to them while
they eat dinner, and then reads to them up until the second she has to wedge
herself out of the front door through the books, hugs, kisses and "don't
go!"s that follow all of that reading (what can I say, my kids love a
good book. Or ten.)
Gram-E puts up with a lot sometimes.
Yesterday began a bit differently. As 5pm
approached, I realized that our must-do weekly Costco run had become a
must-do-NOW run (apples, bananas, and grapes bought in bulk disappear
seemingly overnight in this house) and in desperation asked if she minded
if I step out as quickly as possible to hit our favorite big box store. I
anticipated an after-work nightmare crowd, but Costco was surprisingly quiet
and I breezed in and out in record time (considering my previous record of 30
minutes included two children under 5, it sounds less impressive now that I
think about it).
The
ability to do this simple errand sans kids and sans crowd was in itself a
gift--truly. It is, as they say, the little things that make life easier
and happier.
But
the real gift came during the 7 minute car ride home. Without Frances and
George in the backseat (did I mention I ran the errand alone?), I was able to
tune into my favorite, favorite news show "All Things
Considered" (rivaled only by my other favorite news show "Morning
Edition") on NPR--another gift. I calculate that since stopping my
career, I've listened to about an hour and a half cumulative of NPR these last 18
months. So any chance I get, I crank up my radio to 88.9, sit back, and
let my mind absorb as much information as it can until the next coveted alone
time. Yesterday, I happened to catch an entire news story (again, an anomaly
these days). It wasn't about strife in the Middle East, the upcoming 2012
presidential race, or even the current Olympic games--all newsworthy and
important events, but mercifully taken up during the first 45 minutes of the
program. Instead it was a story about a small, beautiful bird that lives
in New England--the loon.
The
story narrator, a writer who spends her summers in a cabin on the edge of Acadia
National Park, described spending this particular summer watching a pair of
loons nest and breed in the cove outside her office window. Loons, she
said, are exceedingly private birds and to have two within eyesight on a near
daily basis is "a great honor." As is typical to this type of
bird, her loons bore two tiny, black, fuzzy chicks who spent the first weeks of
their lives perched on the back of one of the parents. She watched them
care, feed, protect and teach the little chicks, who had now become teenage
loons and on the eve of leaving their parents' safe nest.
While
I loved listening to the parental roles of these exceptional birds, my favorite
part of the story was the writer's description of the bird calls. Loons,
she explained, are never alone; even when they are out of sight from their soul
mate, they are not out of call range. "Where are youuu;"
"I am hereeee" is how the author describes their calls, back and
forth to each other throughout the day. And at night, loons serenade each
other and the world around them. Their calls become songs, almost
aria-like in length and pitch. As the five-minute story came to a close
and the loons' calls faded in the background, I realized tears were streaming
down my face and landing squarely on the steering wheel.
I
have no idea why I cried. Maybe it was the nighttime sound of a place I
have longed to visit (Acadia National Park - I've even purchased a guidebook
for that elusive vacation that may be several years down the road). Maybe
it was that I have a special, sappy place in my heart for all things animal
related--I want to protect them as though they were my own children, I fiercely
admire their gumption in continuing to raise young in an environment that us
humans have made increasingly difficult, and I wonder what it must be like to be a
parent in such an unsure situation (of course, maybe I am). Maybe it was
because as much as I admire the "wild" in wild animals, I also find
myself personifying them; imagining Will and me calling to each other in the
night, ensuring the safety of our chicks and our better half.
In
the end, though, I realized that my tears were those of gratitude--my 7 minute
drive home yielded enough alone time that I was able to hear a story about
something I knew nothing about--water birds in Maine. And now, I know a little
bit more. My brain, my heart, my interests were all reignited again and
the kids (at least not directly) had nothing to do with it. My love of
learning hasn't disappeared; it's just been in hibernation and at times
difficult to wake up in a life revolving around giving, doing, and
teaching--and that excites me. Preschool excites me. And
apparently, loons excite me. (And yes, the irony is not lost on me that I
cried over a story featuring a loon when at least half of you reading this are
probably thinking, "holy heck, this girl is looney tunes herself.").
For
those of you interested in hearing the actual story, click here.
I can almost guarantee you will not cry (because, dear friends, none of
you are as crazy as I am). But you will be amazed at the bird calls and
may even stoke a little learning fire inside your belly, too. At least, I
hope you will.
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