Juggling

Up goes the business travel, down comes the household management. Up goes the focus on my kids education, down goes the focus on myself. Up goes the figuring out my new job, down goes the attention to my marriage. Up goes the progress on the house project, down goes the social life. Up goes the mommy guilt, down goes my patience level. Up goes the need to stay on top of things, down goes the cooking and house keeping. Up goes the just holding shit together, down goes my ability to keep all things under control. Up goes the number of sick children, down goes the recharging time on the weekend. Up goes the anxiety, down goes the letting things roll off my back.

Sometimes I'm better at this act than others. Sometimes it is simple and almost fluid. Sometimes it's even fun. Right now, not so much. I'm not sure if I'm not over my jet lag or if I'm just generally exhausted. I see the light at the end of the tunnel though. But to quote Cracker "someone please tell me that it's not a train." If I can just make it through this trip to Beijing, if I can even manage to enjoy it, after that I can start putting things back in order. I can once again start to focus on making some routines that will help smooth things down. And maybe, just maybe I'll be able to find some time to take off from work and get all of this craziness in my house sorted and reduced.
Wish me luck.

Unsettled

While one child, Big Dog, seems to be thriving at school, the other, Little Dog, seems to be floundering. I keep hoping he'll grow into it. I keep hoping he'll develop the love of school his brother has, but it seems doubtful. See, since we started preschool in September, he's been not loving it so much. He has good days and bad days, but lately the bad seem to outnumber the good. And still, when I pick him up, he isn't in a rush to get out of there, so it can't be that bad, right? Please tell me I'm right here. I need the validation.

Unfortunately this transition for him has been a big one. When he was a baby he was in a group daycare. He was not a fan. He liked one caregiver above all others and would cling to her. He did fine there as long as she was around and if it hadn't been for a string of recurring ear infections, he'd probably have stayed in group childcare right up until Kindergarten, just like his brother did. Unfortunately for him, his ears were a problem. Even after having tubes placed, they continued to be an issue. He was constantly on antibiotics and there seemed to be no end to it. When his preferred care giver quit, we decided to hire her as a nanny. So we took him out of daycare and like that, the ear infections stopped. He had one or two more over the next couple of years, but compared to the back to back, twice a month infections we'd been dealing with, it was heavenly.

NE was like a member of our family. She still is. But when Mr. Dog was not working, we had to let her go. It was kind of good timing for all of us since Little Dog appeared to be ready for a group environment. He'd been doing co-op preschool and really ate up the group interaction. He'd cling to NE while she was there, but he transitioned well enough when she wasn't. Also NE was ready to go to a job that let her work with infants again, so when the time came to part ways, it was more or less smooth for all of us. (NE is now working at a child care center in the infant room. Just in case you were wondering.)

So the spring and summer for Little Dog were spent at home with Mr. Dog. I think it did them both a lot of good. The boys got more one on one time with Mr. Dog and he got an amazing immersion into the crazy world of full time care giving. The last couple of months we decided to put Little Dog and Big Dog in preschool part time, but together. And they loved it. Little Dog may not have been so great at following rules, but he loved being in school "like a big boy" and Big Dog loved the additional days off at home.

Then Mr. Dog found a new job. And Big Dog started kindergarten. And Little Dog started his own school. By himself. For the first time since he was a baby.
I am more than sympathetic that this must be a fairly traumatic transition for him and I've tried to do everything I could to make it as smooth as possible. The school we chose is pretty great. I'd been on the wait list for ages and was stunned when they told us they had a spot right when we needed it. Low teacher to child ratio, low staff turnover. Great early childhood education foundation for all programs. They offer ongoing parent and staff education including weekly discussion and education handouts to address topic the parents choose. They have a giant playground, the classrooms are spacious and bright. They have a cook on staff and all snacks and lunches are prepared on site. They do a ton of art and lots of collaborative games. Each week they do a cooking project with the kids. We have regular parent conferences and they create a record of each child's progress through the year in a portfolio. They also do a number of pot luck dinners to create a real community feeling for the families who have children enrolled there. Being home with a nanny or a parent is a far cry from daily school, but I expected his irrepressible lust for new adventures to eventually outweigh the disruption of being pulled from his comfort zone. And I've been waiting for that to happen since September.

It was pretty typical at first. He'd have a hard drop off but the teachers assured me that as soon as I left, he was fine. He'd melt down as I left only to bounce back in time for the first morning activity and the rest of the day was more or less fine. Then something happened. From Thanksgiving to Christmas he was having terrible nightmares at nap time. He was more frustrated by an inability to decide what he wanted to do, and he was more unhappy at drop offs. Taking nearly two weeks off at Christmas has not helped. After an especially difficult drop off that left me emotionally wrenched on Tuesday, I talked to his head teacher. I asked, looking for reassurance, if he got better during the day. I had hoped that she'd tell me, as she had before, that he assimilated into class shortly after I left, that the rest of the day would be fine. But she didn't. She expressed some concern that he was having bouts of sadness during the day. She said his frustration with not knowing what puzzle to do or game to play was growing. That no matter what they tried, he rejected their efforts to cheer him up. She suggested we schedule a conference to figure out what to do.
I drove to work in tears.

Trying to create a strategy, I contacted his pediatrician. At this stage I'm out of tricks and I hoped she'd be able to give me some new resources, including a referral to a child psychologist or counselor who might be able to give me some new insights and tactics. She did, all the while reassuring me that he'd be fine, reminding me that he is going through a lot and that it will all work out. She even stressed it is better, if he has to have a strong reaction to full time school, that he do it now than when he begins kindergarten when the transition would only be exacerbated by academic requirements and a far higher child to teacher ratio. I cannot express what a relief this was.

On a happier note, his teacher left me a long note in his folder at pick up time. He'd had a great afternoon and the teachers were trying out a new approach with him in the morning that seemed to pay off. When I picked him up he was in high spirits and the mood continued all evening. Even the typical sibling rivalry that seems to boil up in our house after dinner was kept to a minimum.

I've been wracking my brain to think of what might have happened to bring this on, what I did wrong to make this happen. Did I say something in frustration that made him fear that I'd leave him at school and never come back? Did he see something on TV that frightened him? Did some interaction go awry and leave him with a fear of being abandoned if he wasn't a perfect child? And so far I have nothing. I even called my parents, who we stayed with at Thanksgiving, and pumped them for information. Nothing. So now I wait. I will talk to the child psychologist on Friday. In the meantime, I'm second guessing everything I do and say as I try to help him every day.

Momma's got a brand new bag

I got me a big old bag o' guilt. All kinds. Check it out. Inside I have the whole variety pack of guilt.

Mommy guilt for leaving the kids to got to a job I love every morning. For not being as consistent and fair as I should be. For not keeping my cool when they really piss me off.

Wife guilt for not being as available as I should be. For being kind of cranky. For not being a generally wonderful spouse.

Daughter guilt for all those years of abuse I doled out to my parents. For not understanding what they were saying and why. For ages 12-19.

Friend guilt for not keeping in touch with those I love as much as I should. For forgetting important dates. For wishing I saw more of them, but not doing much about it.

Worker guilt for making mistakes. For not always knowing the answer. For having to make decisions that may make customers unhappy. For not being able to take on that one more task.

Feminist guilt for not always rallying to the cause. For loving my domestic side a bit too much. For being a bit too much about style and a bit too little about content at times. For not being as politically active as I should be.

Environmentalist guilt for not doing everything possible. For not recycling all of the time (most of the time but not always). For my love of Ziploc baggies.

Self guilt for not taking care of myself. For not committing to getting back in shape. For failing to make time for it.

General guilt for not being able to solve problems for everyone else. For not having the energy to to everything all the time.

All kinds of guilt. You know what? It's a heavy bag. I'm wiped out and I can't continue to carry it. I'm working hard to set it down, but this habit of lugging it around is addictive. I'm trying to be ok with not being perfect, but I suck at it. At least I'm not feeling guilty about it, so that's a step in the right direction. Isn't it?

Oh boy.

Something is going on. I'm not sure what, but something is up. Big Dog is having problems at school. He's not listening, he's pushing, he's generally being a bully. Have I mentioned that next to him turning into a completely anti-social outcast, this is my biggest fear? I don't want him to be a problem child. I don't want him to be the one the other kids are afraid of, and yet, here we are, hearing from his teachers that he was making other kids cry.

I'm not really sure what to do from here. I have talked to him again, and we'll see if it makes a difference. I've told him that I don't want him to lose his friends or be the kid the other boys won't play with. He seems to get it, but to be honest, we've had this talk before.

So here I am nearly in tears over the latest developments. Really he isn't the one I expected to have this problem. He's a really sweet and loving kid. His biggest problems usually arise when he hasn't had enough snuggles. Sure, he has a bit of the big brother "obey me" syndrome with his little brother, but that's pretty normal from what I hear.

Anyhow, I'm wiped out. I'm not sure what to do, how to get him to understand it isn't ok to make people cry. I'm exhausted and stressed and ultimately feel like I'm letting this kid down. I try really hard to be a great mom, but here we are dealing with the bully issue. I'm stumped, no idea what my next move is. I don't want to screw this kid up, because in all honesty, he kind of rocks. Well, at least when he's not pushing people around at school.

Delicate balance.

Sometimes the simplest thing causes heartache. Even unintentionally, the wrong word, or in this case, the wrong song can reduce a child to tears. Last night, Little Dog called me “sunshine.” He was trying to talk me out of bedtime by looking earnestly into my eyes saying “no no, sunshine”, then began crooning his own little boy song to me. “Mama, I love you. You sweet. Sunshine” he sang, paused, then said “I just kidding” with an impish twinkle in his eye, but his little song put me in the mood to sing. So I started “You are my sunshine.” It wasn’t until I was finished with the first verse that I noticed Big Dog was on the floor crying. Now I know my singing isn’t that bad, so I asked what was wrong. “You said Little Dog was your only sunshine,” he howled, tears streaming down his face.

I managed to reassure him that I was singing for both of them, that maybe I should have changed to words to “You are my sunshines” because I love them both so much. It seems funny on the surface, his literal interpretation of the lyrics, but it goes deeper.

I think every child with a sibling has at some point wondered if they were as loved as the other. I didn’t realize it started this early. I remember flatly accusing my own mother of loving my sister more and offered as evidence that my sister had more clean shirts than I did. And I sincerely believed it. In retrospect, I had given a bunch of my shirts to my sister when I no longer wanted to wear preppy button downs, and Kathleen was always better at getting her clothes from her bedroom floor into the laundry hamper than I was. But in that moment, I believed that my mom picked through the hampers selecting those of her favorite child, leaving mine behind.

I don’t know why I felt less loved, my parents were always very even with us. There were no favorites as far as I knew. Well, maybe no long-term favorites because at some point, I think every parent may have a special affinity for one child or the other.

At any rate, as much as I understood it, his feeling that he was not my sunshine stunned me. I think it is easily apparent how much I love him and how much I love his brother too. I have always been demonstrative and affectionate, it is part of how I was raised and how I have raised my boys. And still, despite what I think of as obvious he has a little nagging doubt, or did that night. It breaks my mommy-heart a little. Ok, a lot.

Co-op by proxy.

Little Dog is starting preschool today. Not traditional, drop your kid off, pick 'em up later preschool. This is the touchy feely alternative. Co-operative preschool. Co-op. Chock full of parental involvement and learning opportunities, which is great, but since I work full time, I'm not involved much. NE is going to be our primary caregiver for this process.

Two days a week, Little Dog and NE will be spending a couple of hours in a church basement (no, it's not a church related school they are quick to assure me) singing, playing preschool appropriate games, working on sharing and learning skills and generally getting that group interaction he's been missing since we took him out of daycare. He'll be learning to stick to a strict schedule of outdoor play, circle time, snack, free play and closing circle. I think it's great for him. I'm sure he's going to get a lot out of the experience and I hope he'll develop his own little social circle as a result.

I'll be participating too, but to a lesser extent. I'll attend the monthly parent education meeting, and I'll have a role to play in the operations of the preschool, but the day to day kickin' it with the shorties will be handled by NE. They're about to finish their first day, and I'm anxiously awaiting the phone call to fill me in. I guess it's kind of like being there. Just kind of.

On the road again.

Travel always wears me out. It's bad enough when it is pleasure travel to return home at the end of your trip feeling like the world slapped you around a little, but it's far worse when it is business travel. Not only do I return home to a house of men returned to their natural state, I am exhausted, guilty and usually a bit stressed by my inability to be more than one place at once.

Last week I was away for the better part of four days. And though the reason I was traveling was good, and I got a lot done and all of the good cheerleader talk that goes with being a team player, it was brutal. For me and for my family.

Start with the trip to the airport. Our nanny was gracious enough to drop me off, and as I was getting out of the car and saying goodbye to Little Dog, he asked, "I come with you, mama?" I had to tell him, no, he was staying with NE and I would be back soon. His head sagged, he looked down, crestfallen and started to cry. In turn, I felt like I was abandoning this precious little person who only wanted to spend more time with me. In other words, I felt like the worst mom in the history of shitty moms. It sucked. I managed to cheer him up by bribing him with the promise of chocolate milk, but I entered the airport with his sad face on my mind. How's that for unchecked baggage?

Due to a recent tightening of travel budgets for our organization, I've been less able to fly down to California to see my team. This means when I do go down, I have a lot more commitments. I have to make up for all of the distance in the few short days I'm in town. It can be fun, but it usually means long days, short nights and a bit of stress trying to see everyone, touch base with my team and make enough time to fit everything in. Don't get me wrong, I love my team. They are fantastic. I work with some of the smartest, funniest, nicest people I've ever met. It is the non-stop schedule that kills me. My typical day in California runs long. I'm up by 6:00 am and I'm lucky if I'm in bed by 1 am. Some of it work, some of it social and some of it travel from place to place. By the end of the trip, I feel like I need a vacation just to get back to my normal state of mind. Bookend that schedule with the stress of a fear of flying (coupled this time with mechanical issues on the way there and back that left us sitting on the tarmac awaitng repairs) and you have the perfect recipe for a migraine.

When I get home from a trip, I have to go through all of the emotional highs and lows that follow a bout of mommy-abandonment. First the kids are so keyed up they are bouncing off the walls, then they get clingy, then they act surprised every time they see me. It can take days for them to really feel like I'm really back for good, and that breaks my heart. Today, when I was leaving to take Big Dog to preschool, Little Dog ran to get his shoes. "I come with you, mommy?" he asked, full of expectation. "No sweetie, you're staying home with NE," I explained, my stomach dropping, "but I'll be home tonight." And the tears started again.

It isn't that I want to be home all of the time, I just wish the departure and re-entry were less brutal. I feel like I end up coming home trying to be supermom just to repair any damage I may have done to the children, and superwife to try to re-ingratiate myself to my husband. See, I feel guilty leaving him to fend for himself with both kids too. I don't envy single parents. In fact I have no idea how they do it. It is like they have some kind of superpowers that I lack. In my world it takes two fully-engaged adults to wrangle the kids and keep our own sanity in tact. And even with both of us home, we usually end the day falling into bed utterly exhausted. In some small way I feel like despite the obvious challenges of business travel, leaving him with the kids is the poopy end of the stick. Add to this, Mr. Dog had just started a new job last week. More stress and pressure to be on time, be pulled together, be rested and ready to get up to speed. In other words, not the best time for your wife to disappear leaving you at the mercy of two tiny dictators who seem to thrive on a persistent lack of sleep.

We all survived it, but I have noticed we are all a bit frazzled since I returned. We're having more time outs, more "you need to listen to mommy and poppa" discussions and more general family friction. And my bags have yet to be unpacked. Did I say I need a vacation? I fly off to Vegas on Oct. 17th for Auntie Chihuahua's hen party. Then we have a family trip to Colorado the following week. Well, at least I'm already packed.

How to feel like a bad wife and mother

without even trying.

I have a job that requires occasional travel. The pay off for this travel is that I get to live in Seattle and keep my fantastic job in San Jose. Another perk is that I get to see my best friend almost every time I make a trip the the home office.

But there are drawbacks, for one, I have to leave the family behind. I miss them. Sure, I get a few nights of great sleep, I get to eat out at the pace a normal adult usually eats and I only have my own to do list, not the combined to do list of an entire family. The problem is that when I leave my responsibilities behind, Mr. Dog has to pick them up. Not normally a huge deal, but every time I am left to manage on my own with two kids, I gain a new level of admiration of single parents everywhere.

Unfortunately my latest trip was delayed due to my ear infection, I thought I was doing a big favor to everyone by delaying my trip a week, putting it after little dog's birthday. And Mr. Dog was convinced too, until the night before my trip. Little Dog was up every couple of hours. We both were deeply deprived of sleep, and I stagged to my taxi in a zombie like state leaving Mr. Dog to manage on his own.

It wasn't until later that evening I knew just what I had left him to manage. Little Dog has a a fever, it got up over 103 and stayed there for the duration of my trip. On top of being sick, he was up all night, he would not sleep unless he was being held and in general he was being miserable. Mr. Dog had to manage that, take care of Big Dog and his longing for mommy and still go to work. When I talked to him, he seemed completely wiped out. When I talked to NE, she told me how sad Little Dog was, he kept asking for mommy and his fever was sapping his normal wildness.

When I got home I spent a sleepless night with my feverish baby, trying to let Mr. Dog catch up on his sleep a bit, while trying to show Big Dog I missed him too and give him the attention he deserves and needed.

Now I am completely drained. Business travel is always exhausting for me. Since I don't go to San Jose frequently enough, I am constantly trying to fit in all of the face to face time that I miss by working remotely while attending my normal busy schedule of business meetings and making time for anyone on the team who drops by my visitor office. I'm hoping I can smooth this all out this year by traveling more often, but this puts more stress on Mr. Dog since I'll be gone more often. It is like juggling, but with really big and heavy objects, like kids, computers and homes. No wonder my body aches.