Let me just start by staying that last weekend afforded me an epiphany. It was one of those Blanch DuBois, Streetcar Named Desire, “I can always rely on the kindness of strangers,” type moment. Let’s do a back-fill here: for some G-d-forsaken idea, I thought that we could somehow be able to corral our dear little heathens long enough to take them to the model train show at the George R. Brown Convention Center. Let me just say that this particular facility is rather large and, immediately upon entrance, we got separated. Can I also admit, just for a moment, the fleeting feeling that I should really take this opportunity to RUN? Yes, we ARE having fun NOW!!!
After regrouping and planning, we decided to split up according to age-ranges. Shelby got to take youngest Alex to the “Thomas the Tank Engine” booth and I got to take the two oldest to the Houston Children’s Museum booth. This particular booth had an interactive activity in which the children could make these coffee filter/Dixie cup parachute type things then chunk them into a wind tunnel thingy to see if they could float. After doing this little exercise ad nauseum, I had finally had enough and called, repeatedly, for the guys to get a move on and come with me. This grandmotherly woman was standing nearby observing the situation with a grin. In my usual way of dealing with nervous situations, I made a light-handed comment along the lines of swearing that the doctor says their hearing is good. The woman replied that they had selective hearing like most boys. And then, without missing, a beat, she continued, “And then they just grow up to be husbands.” I don’t know about anyone else, but this epiphany lit up the old proverbial light bulb like the Fourth of July fireworks show over the White House. It totally made sense, and if I thought about it for a moment longer, I could almost see my husband as an adolescent boy interacting with his mother. This is what I believe is defined as an “a-ha!” moment.
Once we got home, everyone was assigned their chores for the afternoon but for some unexplained reason, the male members of my family seemed to quote the Lucky Charms leprechaun as they magically disappeared. Here, again, that selective hearing thing must bear examining as surely my little darlings wouldn’t disappear to evade their precious family time? It isn’t just that they seem to disappear, but I have to wonder where it is they go? I mean, my house isn’t that big – we don’t have some rambling mansion with the north and south wings. In fact, we’re squished in on top of each other like a litter of cats. But in some way that eludes me they just disappear. I’m beginning to think we have some type of Harry Potteresque secret door/hidden tunnel type system in our house that can only be accessed by those that posses the Y chromosome. And when do they reappear? The moment I’ve thrown up my hands, dug into the project myself, and have just completed it. *POOF!* There they are. “Where have you been?” “What do you mean?” “Just what I said, where have you been – I asked you to (fill in the blank with assigned task).” “Mom/Honey, I’ve been in the living room – why didn’t you just ask for help if you needed it?” AAAARGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!
So fast forward to this past weekend, I left Saturday night to attend a conference in Baltimore. My beloved Shelby was in charge of the children until I got back on Tuesday evening. Before you feel too sorry for him, let me remind you we have a regular, full time babysitter on the payroll so that if anything got out of hand, he had backup. And honestly, a few nights with Kids Cuisine isn’t going to harm the kids’ health. I know, I know – the man’s a chef so what’s up with the Kids Cuisine – but hey, as long as the kids are alive and in one piece until I return, I’m good with it. I talked to Shelby on Monday to find out that youngest Alex had come down with croup again and oldest Christopher missed the bus because he got dropped off late. Shelby was also just looking at the information about the school’s Fall Carnival that had been the previous Saturday and was wondering why he didn’t know anything about it (I had to remind him that we had indeed talked about it several times regarding the fact that I was leaving for Baltimore so if he wanted to take them, he would be flying solo). Tuesday morning I woke up to the frantic phone call from home because middle child Simon informed Dad that there was no school that day and Shelby wasn’t quite sure what to do. After solving all the problems at home, and even some at work, from my hotel room in Baltimore, I packed up and headed for the airport.
Now as I approach my destination, I am already beginning to wonder what lies in store for me when I get home. Did Christopher’s report card get signed and returned? Did Simon eat a good breakfast since today he was taking his standardized tests? Is there food at home or should I stop at the grocery store on the way home? While I am quite sure the house is a mess and I will have a pile of laundry when I return, I have to admit I can’t wait to get home. They don’t often do what they are told or finish what they start but I miss the way they crawl in bed with me in the morning and snuggle. DISCLAIMER: Aside from the last statement, I totally loved being in a BIG bed all by myself with all the pillows and the remote while visiting Baltimore! I miss kissing them good-night and getting the big hugs before we all head of to bed. I even like it when Shelby gets home and leaves a trail of work clothes around the bedroom as he changes. Well, maybe not the clothing. If I could just get that to disappear through the secret passages I’d be set. But I do miss them, unfinished projects and all. That’s what being a family is all about. That is what I signed on for.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Eat, Pray, Sleep OR The busy mom’s version of Elizabeth Gilbert’s best seller
I received my copy of Eat, Pray, Love from one of my BFFs, Linda. Not only was this book great, but it was so life changing/affirming that I gifted copies to many of those whom I love. However, I have to admit I was kind of disappointed when I found out it was being made into a movie. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Julia Roberts – she’s an amazing actress and, if interviews are real, she seems pretty normal. But honestly, this was one of those books I had a mental picture of the character and, at times, she REALLY resembled, well, ME. So this whole motion picture version totally upset the proverbially apple cart. Seriously though, I don’t think I’ve ever been THAT thin except when I was six. Anyway, let me explain…
Eat
Alright, let’s just be honest here – who wouldn’t love to take a year off from real life to gallivant around Italy to learn Italian and eat Italian food. That right there could totally sum up the differences. Not only can I not remember what was on the grocery list I left at home but there is no way I could learn a new language at this juncture in my life. And for what reason? To yell at my children to pick up their socks or ask my hubby why he can’t take out the trash when it smells like a landfill? Or more importantly, let’s visit the whole idea of eating Italian food (a.k.a carb overload) for an entire year. Without a doubt, my a@* would be as big as the wide side of a barn door. And how in the heck would I be able to loose that weight? No amount of running, weightlifting, Pilates, or exercise would be able to achieve that feat. The only thing I could think of would be that stomach stapling thing which I couldn’t afford even if it was something I found remotely appealing.
Pray
So while this may be TMI for some and redundancy for those that know me, I pray in the shower in the morning – out loud. I know, I know – really? But look, with my life – family, work, school, volunteering – by the time I get in bed at night, I’m falling asleep shortly after the words, “Dear G-d,”. So, essentially, since nothing gets said I shifted. Besides, I doubt there are that many people praying at that time of day so I feel I’m getting some really good quality time here. Or at least until one of my off-springs traipse into the bathroom. Here is a small glimpse of the conversation:
“Mom, who are you talking to?”
“I’m praying.”
“To G-d?”
“Yes. Who else would I be praying to?”
“G-d’s in the shower with you?”
“NO! – G-d is all around us.”
“You can really hear G-d over the shower?” (This statement requires a disclaimer – there have been numerous times that a sibling fight broke out when I was taking the 2.5 minute lightening shower. While my darlings are screaming from the living room about whatever travesty they have experienced, my standard response (in an effort for them to work out their problems and, quite honestly, my attempt at having a relatively peaceful shower, was that I couldn’t hear them over the shower.)
“Yes! Loud and clear! Get OUT!”
This lovely conversation resulted in an idea for the next blog: what is it that children understand and get from the idea of “prayer.” It also affirmed the notion that kids never need anything until the most inopportune times. If you still doubt this notion, walk into a room of children then either pick up the phone or try to go to the restroom. See?
The conversation also brought about interactions with my oldest children about praying. I simply asked them if they prayed, when, and why. It may seem a little intrusive but I was curious if not downright nosey. Christopher’s version was, as most pre-pubescent children’s answers tend to be, rather evasive, nonchalant, and flippant all at the same time. He informed me that he did pray, sometimes, when he needed something. Of course, my mind rushes to the failure I am as a parent to think my child is so self-centered to only concern himself with the latest material need. Much to my surprise, when asked what exactly was it that he needed that required prayer, he informed me that some days he needed a little extra help when he was having a bad day – when someone wasn’t nice to him, he needed help understanding something hard in school, or when he got in trouble and wasn’t sure what to do. This was also the same child who wanted to miss school to attend services during Rosh Hashanah because he missed “the praying and stories.” Maybe I am doing something right.
Sleep
This is the sacred cow of the busy mom’s/woman’s/parent’s life. Not only do we covet this notion, we also find it so elusive as to be an illusion when it might appear. I have to admit that there are times when I might actually consider not only giving my firstborn but all of my off-springs to the first person that could provide me with more that 5 consecutive hours of sleep. Have any of you read Ransom of the Red Chief? Disney also made it into a movie. The premise is these kidnappers snatched this set of kids from a wealthy family in the hopes of a windfall ransom. Unfortunately for them, the kids are such hellions that the kidnappers actually offer to pay the parents to take the kids back! We have two things working for us here: we have NO money and my kids are so bad we might actually get ahead with the reverse ransom. I’m thinking this is a win-win? N'est-ce pas?
Anyway, let me give you a glimpse into my past weekend. Youngest Alex decided that he wanted bedfellows around 3:30 a.m. on Sunday. By 5:30 a.m. he had attached himself to my side like a magnet. For someone who is still working with doctors to figure out why she has debilitating back pain, this is not a comfortable position. So I get up and move to living room floor where I strategically place all the requisite pillows and then go to get a blanket. Upon my return, I find middle son Simon entrenched in my “pillow nest.” I finally convince him that it is too early to get up and get him back to bed. As I stretch out amidst my pillows, I hear the cat crying loudly at the back door. Up I go to let him in, back to the pillows, and my blissful slumber. HA! The cat, who is clearly in cahoots with the children, decides that he needs attention. This particular cat doesn’t know he’s a cat – I honestly believe he thinks he’s a dog because of the way in which he licks the people he loves (or at least, feed him). While this is mildly irritating, it isn’t until he licks my closed eyelid that sends me into orbit at 7:00 a.m. Just for kicks and grins, if you want to know what this feels like, take a rough-grit piece of sandpaper and exfoliate your eyelid. All I have to say is DAMN – THAT HURTS! Then my lovely pet decides that he needs to “kneed” his declawed claws on my arm. While this is a sweet gesture of love and trust, it does get old after the initial twenty minutes – especially when I’m trying to sleep. Fine. I resign myself to the fact that, once again, I am not going to get that beloved, elusive weekend sleep. As I start the coffee, Simon comes into the living and plops himself onto the couch while informing me that his stomach hurts which is what he was actually trying to tell me when he got up earlier. Oops, my bad… Anyway, while trying to discern the authenticity of his claim, the poor child throws up. Not just once but in a trail from the living room to my bathroom. Of course, hubby Shelby walks in after the laying of the yellow barf road and asks if everything is okay. Thankfully, he springs into action to clean up the floor before the need to implement bodily harm. After no additional episodes, we decide the coughing from his allergies is to blame and no additional services are needed. However, the damage is done. There will be no sleeping here this morning. Like the mighty Casey, I have struck out.
So here we are – eat, pray, sleep. Of course, the love is there and understood. There has to be love somewhere around here or none of this other stuff would be possible or, at least, tolerable. And realistically, I could certainly do without the “eat” portion even if it is one of my favorite pastimes. I know I should cook more for my kids, but being married to a chef is one of the few luxuries in which I regularly indulge – for some reason, even his frozen chicken nuggets taste better than mine. As for the pray part, I’ll admit that my spiritual well being isn’t as good as it could be but I am trying and also trying to share those values with my children. There are days when, like most average moms, I feel like I desperately need to do more especially when my children call out to the lord for help with a video game. But, the sleep part, I still haven’t figured that one out. If any of you out there figures this one out, you will rise above the moniker of an “average” parent into the Hall of Fame of Superhero Parents. You might even get a book deal and be able to retire. But then again, who signed up for that?
Eat
Alright, let’s just be honest here – who wouldn’t love to take a year off from real life to gallivant around Italy to learn Italian and eat Italian food. That right there could totally sum up the differences. Not only can I not remember what was on the grocery list I left at home but there is no way I could learn a new language at this juncture in my life. And for what reason? To yell at my children to pick up their socks or ask my hubby why he can’t take out the trash when it smells like a landfill? Or more importantly, let’s visit the whole idea of eating Italian food (a.k.a carb overload) for an entire year. Without a doubt, my a@* would be as big as the wide side of a barn door. And how in the heck would I be able to loose that weight? No amount of running, weightlifting, Pilates, or exercise would be able to achieve that feat. The only thing I could think of would be that stomach stapling thing which I couldn’t afford even if it was something I found remotely appealing.
Pray
So while this may be TMI for some and redundancy for those that know me, I pray in the shower in the morning – out loud. I know, I know – really? But look, with my life – family, work, school, volunteering – by the time I get in bed at night, I’m falling asleep shortly after the words, “Dear G-d,”. So, essentially, since nothing gets said I shifted. Besides, I doubt there are that many people praying at that time of day so I feel I’m getting some really good quality time here. Or at least until one of my off-springs traipse into the bathroom. Here is a small glimpse of the conversation:
“Mom, who are you talking to?”
“I’m praying.”
“To G-d?”
“Yes. Who else would I be praying to?”
“G-d’s in the shower with you?”
“NO! – G-d is all around us.”
“You can really hear G-d over the shower?” (This statement requires a disclaimer – there have been numerous times that a sibling fight broke out when I was taking the 2.5 minute lightening shower. While my darlings are screaming from the living room about whatever travesty they have experienced, my standard response (in an effort for them to work out their problems and, quite honestly, my attempt at having a relatively peaceful shower, was that I couldn’t hear them over the shower.)
“Yes! Loud and clear! Get OUT!”
This lovely conversation resulted in an idea for the next blog: what is it that children understand and get from the idea of “prayer.” It also affirmed the notion that kids never need anything until the most inopportune times. If you still doubt this notion, walk into a room of children then either pick up the phone or try to go to the restroom. See?
The conversation also brought about interactions with my oldest children about praying. I simply asked them if they prayed, when, and why. It may seem a little intrusive but I was curious if not downright nosey. Christopher’s version was, as most pre-pubescent children’s answers tend to be, rather evasive, nonchalant, and flippant all at the same time. He informed me that he did pray, sometimes, when he needed something. Of course, my mind rushes to the failure I am as a parent to think my child is so self-centered to only concern himself with the latest material need. Much to my surprise, when asked what exactly was it that he needed that required prayer, he informed me that some days he needed a little extra help when he was having a bad day – when someone wasn’t nice to him, he needed help understanding something hard in school, or when he got in trouble and wasn’t sure what to do. This was also the same child who wanted to miss school to attend services during Rosh Hashanah because he missed “the praying and stories.” Maybe I am doing something right.
Sleep
This is the sacred cow of the busy mom’s/woman’s/parent’s life. Not only do we covet this notion, we also find it so elusive as to be an illusion when it might appear. I have to admit that there are times when I might actually consider not only giving my firstborn but all of my off-springs to the first person that could provide me with more that 5 consecutive hours of sleep. Have any of you read Ransom of the Red Chief? Disney also made it into a movie. The premise is these kidnappers snatched this set of kids from a wealthy family in the hopes of a windfall ransom. Unfortunately for them, the kids are such hellions that the kidnappers actually offer to pay the parents to take the kids back! We have two things working for us here: we have NO money and my kids are so bad we might actually get ahead with the reverse ransom. I’m thinking this is a win-win? N'est-ce pas?
Anyway, let me give you a glimpse into my past weekend. Youngest Alex decided that he wanted bedfellows around 3:30 a.m. on Sunday. By 5:30 a.m. he had attached himself to my side like a magnet. For someone who is still working with doctors to figure out why she has debilitating back pain, this is not a comfortable position. So I get up and move to living room floor where I strategically place all the requisite pillows and then go to get a blanket. Upon my return, I find middle son Simon entrenched in my “pillow nest.” I finally convince him that it is too early to get up and get him back to bed. As I stretch out amidst my pillows, I hear the cat crying loudly at the back door. Up I go to let him in, back to the pillows, and my blissful slumber. HA! The cat, who is clearly in cahoots with the children, decides that he needs attention. This particular cat doesn’t know he’s a cat – I honestly believe he thinks he’s a dog because of the way in which he licks the people he loves (or at least, feed him). While this is mildly irritating, it isn’t until he licks my closed eyelid that sends me into orbit at 7:00 a.m. Just for kicks and grins, if you want to know what this feels like, take a rough-grit piece of sandpaper and exfoliate your eyelid. All I have to say is DAMN – THAT HURTS! Then my lovely pet decides that he needs to “kneed” his declawed claws on my arm. While this is a sweet gesture of love and trust, it does get old after the initial twenty minutes – especially when I’m trying to sleep. Fine. I resign myself to the fact that, once again, I am not going to get that beloved, elusive weekend sleep. As I start the coffee, Simon comes into the living and plops himself onto the couch while informing me that his stomach hurts which is what he was actually trying to tell me when he got up earlier. Oops, my bad… Anyway, while trying to discern the authenticity of his claim, the poor child throws up. Not just once but in a trail from the living room to my bathroom. Of course, hubby Shelby walks in after the laying of the yellow barf road and asks if everything is okay. Thankfully, he springs into action to clean up the floor before the need to implement bodily harm. After no additional episodes, we decide the coughing from his allergies is to blame and no additional services are needed. However, the damage is done. There will be no sleeping here this morning. Like the mighty Casey, I have struck out.
So here we are – eat, pray, sleep. Of course, the love is there and understood. There has to be love somewhere around here or none of this other stuff would be possible or, at least, tolerable. And realistically, I could certainly do without the “eat” portion even if it is one of my favorite pastimes. I know I should cook more for my kids, but being married to a chef is one of the few luxuries in which I regularly indulge – for some reason, even his frozen chicken nuggets taste better than mine. As for the pray part, I’ll admit that my spiritual well being isn’t as good as it could be but I am trying and also trying to share those values with my children. There are days when, like most average moms, I feel like I desperately need to do more especially when my children call out to the lord for help with a video game. But, the sleep part, I still haven’t figured that one out. If any of you out there figures this one out, you will rise above the moniker of an “average” parent into the Hall of Fame of Superhero Parents. You might even get a book deal and be able to retire. But then again, who signed up for that?
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