the only post i'll write about this subject

male bonding. (or perhaps something nefarious.
i'm still learning.)

when i worked full-time in an office, i really hated leaving home most mornings. (most, not all—there were definitely days when i felt like i'd dodged a bullet, even if it meant time spent on the PATH.) i hated the rush of getting out, and then the rush of getting home, the knowledge that i was spending far more time behind a desk than with my kids, the guilt if i left work early to spend more time with them, and the guilt i felt if i didn't.... i had a nice paycheck, sure, and technically i was doing what i'd spent four years in college learning to do, but i couldn't get past the sense that i was not doing my most important work.

well, funny how life can change on a dime. now here i am, a mama full-time, no office or desk to speak of, no to-do list that doesn't include groceries or "call pediatrician" or "show-and-tell on Thursday." i am more exhausted at the end of a day now than i was even on my most stressful day at work, and often getting from breakfast to bedtime requires many deep breaths.

it ain't easy, people.

but i never thought it would be. i never once thought staying home would be the easier route—just the more rewarding one. and the rewards, i'm realizing, are subtle. small things, simple things. there are no reviews or raises or kudos from a higher-up. yet i'm thrilled that i get to take Matthew to preschool twice a week and pick him up. i'm elated that i've gotten to know Gavin so much better in the month or so that i've been free of a job-job (so you're my second baby! you're pretty awesome!). i've been able to make dinner again, and bake again, and take walks and go to parks and shop for groceries...staggeringly chic, i know, but these are all things i felt like i wanted to be doing and should be doing, but who had the time?

but it all takes a lot of patience, and faith, and perspective. there's always going to be a dozen things i didn't get to on any given day. (from sneaking out for a manicure to folding the laundry to dusting that damn bookcase i keep forgetting about.) the simultaneous naps (during which i get to sit down, eat a proper lunch, perhaps write a blog post or watch Meredith Vieira) will only happen once or twice a week; most of my time will be spent fulfilling non-stop requests, cleaning up sticky messes (and hands and faces), having a conversation about not hitting one's brother for the zillionth time, etc.

i will read not several chapters of a book each day (oh, annoying commute with too many people pressed up against me, how i took you for granted all those years!) but—on a good night—just four or five pages, before zonking out.

when i set my alarm clock for 6 a.m. in order to take a normal-length shower, or finish a full cup of coffee, or do some personal work on the computer, one boy or the other will decide it's the ideal morning to be an early riser.

it's just how life is right now. which is where the faith and perspective come in. this time is not forever. on certain days, when no one naps and no one listens and a quick trip for groceries turns into a mutiny by the time we reach the checkout aisle, it feels like forever. but it's not. the growing is happening every day, every second, and (here's where the faith is helpful), how lucky am i to be able to be here now for so much of it? to put in the time, to pay the attention, to give the hugs and kisses and high-fives i wished i was giving while sitting at my desk all those hours every day? this is my most important work right now. it's where i'm supposed to be.

what inspired me to write this is another article i read this morning, via Facebook, about stay-at-home-moms. it's one of many i've read in recent weeks, from the perspective of "i think i made a mistake staying home," and frankly, i think they're getting pretty tiresome. i'm not saying we full-time mamas have to pretend it's remotely glamorous, or that we love every minute of it (or even half of it, some days), but the complaining feels excessive. indulgent. can't anyone be content with where they are anymore? why are we all convinced the next person has it better? or that the decision we made was the wrong one? or that your life is easier than my life, poor me? 

all this hand-wringing and sideways glancing and second-guessing accomplishes nothing but time-wasting. and, really, who among us—at home or at the office—has all that time to waste?  

mbm

FYI: fifteen months

if i'm alone, no one questions the bump. if the boys are
around, all bets are off. 

lately people seem to be obsessed with the ages of my sons. Gavin's especially. several strangers have asked me, in recent weeks, "how old is your little guy there?" (well, some of them think he's a girl—baffling to me, but perhaps the blond curls throw them.) when i answer, they immediately ask, "when are you due?" and then i see where they're going. and then we have to have that conversation.

i'm thinking of printing up a pamphlet i can just hand out the last eight weeks of this pregnancy. to hear it from these strangers, i have very little time left before i completely lose my mind, so i might as well conserve as many precious minutes of sanity as i can.

Dear Well-Meaning Random Person,

Yes, I am indeed quite pregnant with my third child. And yes, that little blond boy (trust me, he's all boy) sitting in that shopping cart is also mine, and he's also newly one. Let me do the math for you—he and his little sister will be 15 months apart. Which, according to Google, does not make them Irish twins, but that's such a quaint term, isn't it? So let's just pretend they will be Irish twins. And assume I'll start adding Bailey's Irish to my coffee every morning very soon...

Oh, and yes, to answer the other question dangling on the tip of your tongue—my husband and I do know how babies are made. No, really, we do. But somehow the universe thought it would be funny to put the two of us in a hotel room sans existing kids (our first alone time in six months) and mess with my ovulation date simultaneously. I won't tell you what my reaction was when I saw, six weeks later, those two lines on the EPT—I don't even know you, cursing would be impolite. Just trust me this wasn't in our plan.

But she's our little girl now. We can't wait to meet her and we wouldn't change a thing. (Well, I would change these crazy veins popping everywhere, but I'm trying to be less vain—have to practice being a strong, secure and confident example of a woman.) Yes, I see that expression on your face—we know our lives will be total and utter chaos for the next however many years, but if anyone can handle it, and keep laughing through it, I'm pretty sure it's us. I'm praying it's us. I'm going to ensure it's us.

Thanks so much for your peculiar interest in my life. Now, unless you have any other burning questions, I really need to pee.

you think that would do the trick?

mbm

today

safe on solid ground in their own backyard.

this morning i was awakened by someone tugging on my hair. i rolled to my right and came face to face with my three year old standing next to my bed. he went to sleep at nine-thirty last night but—such is the way with toddlers, at least my toddler—the later he goes to bed, the earlier he's up. what kind of backwards logic is that? 

despite this, i promise it was completely unintentional when i knocked him down the stairs a few hours later. in my defense, i thought i had plenty of room to squeeze by him and i caught him—while holding his little brother in my arms, no less. still, he wound up on his back, head down, having slipped one or two steps down from where he'd been standing innocently, gazing out the window. his lower lip trembled a little and i immediately sat down, pulled him to me in a hug and said i was so sorry. (then i had to grab his little brother, who was thisclose to tumbling down the stairs himself.) 

once everyone was secure and upright, i took a deep breath and told myself to calm the hell down. 

life has been...strange lately. we're in a new house, in a new town, with 10 weeks to go until our new baby arrives. i also, just last week, lost my job quite unceremoniously. 

change has been rampant. 

i've never been very good at change. though i'm much better now than i used to be. one of the perks of aging: you figure out things are going to change whether or not you throw yourself on the floor screaming and flailing, so you might as well save your energy. 

but i'm feeling pretty groundless, to borrow a term used by my former therapist, who i believed borrowed it from the Buddha. so many details up in the air, no way to predict what life will be like a month, three months, three years from now.

but that's the beauty of it, i remind myself constantly. isn't that what all the quotes on Pinterest say? 

anyway, i had quit blogging about seven months ago, but i'm in pretty desperate need of outlets for my writing these days. so, here we are. deja vu all over again. 

mbm