Saying goodbye

A few days before my mother died, someone from hospice gave my family a booklet titled something like, “Letting Go of a Loved One.” Basically it was to help the family through the dying and grieving process. One of the steps in this process was telling your loved one that it was ok for him or her to die and that you would be fine. After reading that I sobbed to my husband, “I can’t tell her it’s ok, because it’s not! And I won’t be ok!” The thought of it still seems impossible. “Hey, mom! These 31 years have been great, but I’ll be fine without you. See you on the other side!”

She was my mother, it’s not ok that she’s not here anymore and I desperately need her in my life and my children’s lives.

This was all running through my mind as I backed out of the driveway this morning to go to the gym and get a haircut. I’ve been lucky to find a babysitter to take the kids a few hours a week, and Nora is pissed. She stands at the door, starting at me pulling away with tears running down her face. She’s clutching blankey and I can see her face in full scream mode, though I can’t hear anything. It breaks my heart. I want her so badly to scamper back inside and enjoy her favorite things—coloring, her dolls, playdough. But instead she stands there screaming, and I feel awful.

I guess every mother wants to know their children will be fine when they leave. For the past year I’ve been feeling like Nora, standing at the front door screaming as my mother leaves. And while I know she would obviously have preferred to stay, I know she would feel better if I stepped away from the door and enjoyed my life inside.

Free Time=Stress

I have a fantastic husband. Case in point: He took our two-year-old out to the Children's Museum last Sunday so I could have some time to myself. We timed it so they left right at the start of Cam's morning nap, which typically lasts two hours or so. As they walked out the door a wave of euphoria hit. I'm free!

A list suddenly popped up in my head of things I've wanted to do, but couldn't with two kids hanging on me every hour; write, call friends, read a book, get my nails done, go for a run, the list goes on and on.

Obviously I was limited. I had to stay home with Cam so running and getting a quick pedi were out. But still the two hours of free time stretched invitingly before me and I began to get anxious. Who knows when this will happen again? I need to make the most of it! What's the best possible way to spend this time? Not worrying about it, that's for sure. I've already wasted 15 minutes! Argh!

First I took a shower. After getting dressed I just lazed around and read the latest novel I'm obsessed with (American Wife by Curtis Sittenfeld). After awhile I looked up from my book and saw a text, "On our way home." Huh. What the heck did I accomplish in these two hours? Not much. I didn't clean the kitchen, write my first novel or catch up with old friends, I just took a shower and read. But those two simple things made me feel more like myself, and in my book that's a perfect way to spend some free time.

Full Moon

I love to go out to eat. And every weekend I have a case of temporary amnesia and think, "Let's take the kids to a restaurant. It can't be that bad, right?"

Wrong. Somehow I forget how stressful it is eating out with a toddler and baby. Tim and I end up both shoveling our meals into our mouths while keeping Cam and Nora from wreaking complete havoc. We leave the restaurant exhausted, cranky and usually $50 or more poorer.  Plus, if you asked me what I just ate, I wouldn't be able to remember.

Luckily, we found Full Moon Restaurant in Cambridge not that long ago. There's still havoc and screaming, but (horray!) the noise isn't just coming from our kids but other people's kids. The restaurant has a small playroom off the main dining room which is in view of most tables.  There's a train table, books, a play kitchen and all sorts of other toys that keep little ones occupied. For the babies who are stuck at the table with mom and dad, the wait staff brings a plastic bucket full of small plastic toys to the table.

As for the food, it's delicious. Think real food that you would get at a "date night" restaurant, like grilled steak with bleu cheese butter, mussels with chorizo or our favorite, homemade nachos.  And the best part?  You can actually eat this delectable meal and have a glass of wine while your child plays, screams and runs around without offending anyone nearby because the parents at the next table are just happy their child isn't the only one making a scene.

                                                    Our table during brunch at Full Moon.

Failure?

Last weekend a friend of mine who works outside the home told me she's been thinking of me lately. In a nutshell, she has been home on maternity leave with her newborn and has had a tough time balancing taking care of a baby and a toddler at the same time. She said she goes to bed each night feeling like a failure because she hasn't been able to give her full attention to either child. She then said she realized that I must feel like a failure every day because I'm home all the time and that this must be so damaging to my psyche.

Um, thanks?

Needless to say, I've been thinking about the concept of failure quite a bit since that uplifting and life-affirming exchange. My friend has a point. Am I devoting as much of my day to Cameron's development as I used to with Nora? No. Are there times when I'm changing Cam, or feeding Cam or chasing after Cam and Nora is begging me to play with her? Yes. Do I feel awful? Yup. But I know deep down I'm not a failure. Especially lately. Cam has become more of a human and truly enjoys his interactions with Nora. They're buddies. And who knows how their relationship with grow over time, but they will always have each other. And for that I am not a failure.

Mommy's new best friend...her iPhone

I like to think that I'm not materialistic and obviously I know deep down, a new phone isn't going to change my life, but I really, really wanted an iPhone. Unfortunately we had a pesky 2-year contract with Sprint that finally ends this month. So this weekend we packed the family up and off we went to the Burlington Mall  to buy a new iPhone. And I have to say, I love it! And I think it makes me a better mom. (Let the justification for too much time spent on phone begin... now...)

Just this morning, Nora and I were walking to school with her friends and it was just the cutest thing I had ever seen. So I whipped out my phone- snapped a photo and that was that. I realize you can do that with a million other phones, but it was so easy and later I sent it to Tim at work and it was just a breeze. And it looks cool. Listen, if I have to act like an adult 98% of the time a little childish excitement over my new toy is allowed. Right? Right.

Never has 6 am felt so good

For the second time in six months, both Cam and Nora slept through the night. This is a miracle. I really thought Cam had (and I feel awful saying this,) but I thought he was no longer with us because he was so quiet. Nora happily walked into our room at 6:30 with her pillow and blankey ready to cuddle. Amazing. Before the morning would go something like this: 4:30, Nora wakes up, whining and crying. I rush in-- desperate to stop her so she doesn't wake the baby. I beg, I plead with her to please stay in bed  a little longer... She just responds with an ear-piercing, annoying as hell whine. I head back to bed exasperated and Tim gives it a try. He then comes back, unsucessful, dropping F-bombs, and Cam then begins to chime in around 4:45. And the day begins! Everyone is miserable, it's still dark outside and Tim and I are expected to be at the top of our game at work and home taking care of the two maniacs. So, this is why this morning felt so great. No crying, no f-bombs, no pleading and ridiculous deal making.

I don't want to get too excited though. Let's see how tomorrow night goes.

A martyr no longer...

It is with great regret that I relinquish my marytrdom. Whenever Tim went out to play music or see his friends, I definitely took on the role of a mom martyr. Now I can no longer claim that I never go out after my bender last week. I went out every night last week (except Monday). By Thursday I was done, but it felt so good to pull out of the driveway by myself and be an adult in the world for a change. Tuesday was dinner with friends at Diva in Davis Square, Wednesday was drinks at Masa in Woburn with my new Winchester mom friends, Thursday was dinner with C'town moms at Figs and Friday was watching Tim play at the Middle East with the Brendan Boogie Band.

Two babies, a dog and a mom

This blog needs a new title. Keeping up with my updating every six months-- I am happy to announce the arrival of Cameron Paul, five months ago. A lot has  happened since then but we are finally getting settled. Now Tim and I are just trying to keep the boat afloat by staying in a routine and staying somewhat sane. It's crazy how now I am completely envious when Tim takes off on Saturday morning to go to the dump. The dump! How exciting! I think as I watch him pull down the driveway- alone in the car, while I try to ignore Nora's 50th request for a "snacky" and Cameron is puking all over my shoulder. 

After a few Saturdays of this, the resentment had just built up way too high so I hired a babysitter for Saturday mornings so I could get in on this kid-free errand running. It was the best idea I ever had. It felt so good to actually take care of some shit instead of starting a project and then stopping it five minutes later. I filed old papers in our office, and Emily our babysitter was out pushing Nora on the swings. Now, you would think that I would rather be outside playing with Nora, but at that moment I was more than happy to let someone else take care of that while I sat inside. There was just something satisfying starting with a big pile of papers, and when I was done the papers were gone. There's very little that's tangible like that when you take care of kids all day.  

Waiting

Two more weeks to go.  I can't decide if I want this baby to hurry up and come, or if I want him to take his time. But, guess what-- I don't have any choice in the matter. I'm sick of being pregnant, but I also want to savor these last moments that are just Nora and I. I feel huge and it's exhausting anticipating labor. Every time I make a noise Tim thinks it's a contraction. It's stressful, but so is life with  a newborn. Also in the background is the absence of my mother, which I have been thinking about more and more as I get closer to D-day.