The past couple of days have been a little difficult for me, but you readers have been great and have cheered me up immensely. Today I want to share two videos with you to express my appreciation for your kindness. The first is about true friendship (in this case, a sweet video about tortoise helping tortoise), and the second is a touching and inspiring video about motherhood. I hope you enjoy them!
You all are the absolute best! Thank you for helping me when I was down and for all your advice about preschool graduation and motherhood. ♥
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Sunday, September 4, 2011
It's 24-7; I'm exhausted. I still love it!
It's 3 p.m. I'm listening to my husband snore as he naps in the next room, and I suspect that more of the same will occur tomorrow: more napping, more snoring, more taking it easy. Now I don't begrudge my husband a rest: he works hard every day so that I can stay home with the kids, and I know he needs (and deserves) a break. But right this moment, in my current woe-is-me state, while I'm up to my ears in dirty dishes, unfolded laundry, and smelly diapers, I can't help but bemoan the fact that, as a stay-at-home mom, I don't get a Labor Day.
Despite it all, though, I wouldn't trade my life for anything.
Happy (early) Labor Day to all of you!
Despite it all, though, I wouldn't trade my life for anything.
Happy (early) Labor Day to all of you!
Friday, April 15, 2011
Even better than living my dream
As a child, I dreamed of the day I'd become a mother, but on the day I discovered I was pregnant with my son, all I felt was apprehension.
I think a small part of that apprehension probably stemmed from the fact that I was a slightly older first-time mom: I was thirty-four when my son was born and thirty-six when my daughter arrived. I realize that many women are waiting until their thirties and even later to have children, but most of my friends had had their kids in their twenties, so compared to them, I felt ancient.
The larger reason for my trepidation was fear. In all of my daydreams about motherhood, I had never envisioned myself being single and pregnant. I had pictured the white house with the picket fence, the successful career, the husband--and then the children. But that vision didn't turn out to be my reality. My life ending up taking a different path that meandered through marriage and divorce, then a move across the country to be with a man I had met in a chat room online. I moved in with him in November of 2004, and our surprise son made himself known in June of 2006. So even though I wasn't truly single--I was with a man that I loved and would marry in just a few months time--on the day I found out I was pregnant I felt single, and that was scary. I don't know if that will make much sense to anyone on the outside looking in, but for my life to have veered so far from the course I had set out on was terrifying for me. I welcomed the pregnancy, but the questions still nagged at me: What happened to my plan? Where did my life get off track? How did I end up here?
As my pregnancy progressed, however, much of my fear disappeared. I loved being pregnant; it had been my dream for so long. And when my son was born by emergency C-section on February 21, 2007, I couldn't have been happier or felt more blessed. I don't even know how to describe the peace and overwhelming love that came over me when I was finally able to hold him, the sense of comfort, the certainty that everything was going to be all right.
Even though my life didn't take the path I had dreamed it would--and perhaps no one's life does--I'm grateful to have gone through all the things that brought me where I am today. I have a wonderful husband and two beautiful kids. Things happened differently than I thought they would, but I'm now living a life that's better than anything I ever dreamed.
I think a small part of that apprehension probably stemmed from the fact that I was a slightly older first-time mom: I was thirty-four when my son was born and thirty-six when my daughter arrived. I realize that many women are waiting until their thirties and even later to have children, but most of my friends had had their kids in their twenties, so compared to them, I felt ancient.
The larger reason for my trepidation was fear. In all of my daydreams about motherhood, I had never envisioned myself being single and pregnant. I had pictured the white house with the picket fence, the successful career, the husband--and then the children. But that vision didn't turn out to be my reality. My life ending up taking a different path that meandered through marriage and divorce, then a move across the country to be with a man I had met in a chat room online. I moved in with him in November of 2004, and our surprise son made himself known in June of 2006. So even though I wasn't truly single--I was with a man that I loved and would marry in just a few months time--on the day I found out I was pregnant I felt single, and that was scary. I don't know if that will make much sense to anyone on the outside looking in, but for my life to have veered so far from the course I had set out on was terrifying for me. I welcomed the pregnancy, but the questions still nagged at me: What happened to my plan? Where did my life get off track? How did I end up here?
As my pregnancy progressed, however, much of my fear disappeared. I loved being pregnant; it had been my dream for so long. And when my son was born by emergency C-section on February 21, 2007, I couldn't have been happier or felt more blessed. I don't even know how to describe the peace and overwhelming love that came over me when I was finally able to hold him, the sense of comfort, the certainty that everything was going to be all right.
Even though my life didn't take the path I had dreamed it would--and perhaps no one's life does--I'm grateful to have gone through all the things that brought me where I am today. I have a wonderful husband and two beautiful kids. Things happened differently than I thought they would, but I'm now living a life that's better than anything I ever dreamed.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
My mommy hat is all askew. Help!
My kids are driving me insane.
Surprisingly, the youngest one, who's twenty months old, is causing me the most grief. She throws fits almost every day--screaming at the top of her lungs, lying on the floor and kicking, running away from me--and almost always in public places. Today it was the library. She had a tantrum because I said it was time to go, and it felt like every eye in the place was on me, watching to see how I would handle her. I could feel the disapproval, particularly from an older lady who was standing near the new fiction and looking at me with that "Can't you control your child" face. I wanted to tell her off, believe me. She can't tell me that her children (if she has any) didn't pitch fits at the most inopportune times--unless her kids were perfect angels, which I suppose in her mind they were.
My four-year-old has his share of tantrums as well, but he's never been as willful as my daughter, even when he was her age. His fits consist mostly of screaming loudly enough to alert people within a mile radius, then sobbing like I've just told him that the Easter Bunny ran out of chocolate eggs. These tantrums are embarrassing, for sure, and really, I'm at the end of my rope.
So I'm begging you as one harried mom to another: how can I stop these tantrums--or at least regain control of my kids? Help!
Surprisingly, the youngest one, who's twenty months old, is causing me the most grief. She throws fits almost every day--screaming at the top of her lungs, lying on the floor and kicking, running away from me--and almost always in public places. Today it was the library. She had a tantrum because I said it was time to go, and it felt like every eye in the place was on me, watching to see how I would handle her. I could feel the disapproval, particularly from an older lady who was standing near the new fiction and looking at me with that "Can't you control your child" face. I wanted to tell her off, believe me. She can't tell me that her children (if she has any) didn't pitch fits at the most inopportune times--unless her kids were perfect angels, which I suppose in her mind they were.
My four-year-old has his share of tantrums as well, but he's never been as willful as my daughter, even when he was her age. His fits consist mostly of screaming loudly enough to alert people within a mile radius, then sobbing like I've just told him that the Easter Bunny ran out of chocolate eggs. These tantrums are embarrassing, for sure, and really, I'm at the end of my rope.
So I'm begging you as one harried mom to another: how can I stop these tantrums--or at least regain control of my kids? Help!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Fiction. Nonfiction. Me.
I'm not sure that one can classify fiction and nonfiction as "difficult to write" and "not as difficult to write," but for me, nonfiction has always seemed easier. I've never really had difficulty writing about myself, my life, my friends and family; everything--the scenarios, the character quirks and flaws--was there for the taking, and I was simply the one putting it down on paper.
Lately, though, writing about myself is becoming harder, and for the past six months or so, I've found that it's easier to hide myself in fiction rather than expose myself in the spotlight of nonfiction. I'm not sure what's driving this change, although I can postulate that all the failures I feel as a mom have subconsciously led me to fiction as a means of getting away from a reality I'm not proud of. However, strangely enough, my current project is about a mother and her struggle with coming to terms with her life and how she's living it. And motherhood, in fact, is a recurring topic in my fiction, both in my short stories and in my novel-length works, and the mother's struggle with guilt is a common theme. Perhaps, then, I'm not finding fiction easier than nonfiction but more forgiving instead; with fiction, I can cover my real sins with the made-up sins of others, and no one will be the wiser.
I don't know. I think there's something here, but I'm not sure I've found it yet...
Lately, though, writing about myself is becoming harder, and for the past six months or so, I've found that it's easier to hide myself in fiction rather than expose myself in the spotlight of nonfiction. I'm not sure what's driving this change, although I can postulate that all the failures I feel as a mom have subconsciously led me to fiction as a means of getting away from a reality I'm not proud of. However, strangely enough, my current project is about a mother and her struggle with coming to terms with her life and how she's living it. And motherhood, in fact, is a recurring topic in my fiction, both in my short stories and in my novel-length works, and the mother's struggle with guilt is a common theme. Perhaps, then, I'm not finding fiction easier than nonfiction but more forgiving instead; with fiction, I can cover my real sins with the made-up sins of others, and no one will be the wiser.
I don't know. I think there's something here, but I'm not sure I've found it yet...
Monday, January 10, 2011
Who needs the time-out today? Oh, yeah. I do.
Today has been one of those I-suck-as-a-mother days. These days seem to be happening all too frequently lately, most of them falling on Mondays, which shouldn't be too surprising, I guess, since Mondays usually signify my first day back as a full-time mom. (I take part-time mom status over the weekends when the husband is home all day.)
Anyway, I let the noise and the whining and the fighting and the "I wants" and the "She hit mes" get to me today, until I finally lost my temper and yelled, thereby rendering all of my "Don't yells" and "Be polites" null and void. Oh, well. Good thing the kids don't know the word "hypocrite" yet, huh? Seriously, I do get discouraged on days like today. I'm a perfectionist, and I really want to be a good mom, so when I have days like this, I really beat myself up. I guess, though, that I just need to chalk it up to a bad day and promise myself when I wake up tomorrow that I'll try harder and do better.
But a little chocolate and a time-out might make me feel better in the meantime. :)
Anyway, I let the noise and the whining and the fighting and the "I wants" and the "She hit mes" get to me today, until I finally lost my temper and yelled, thereby rendering all of my "Don't yells" and "Be polites" null and void. Oh, well. Good thing the kids don't know the word "hypocrite" yet, huh? Seriously, I do get discouraged on days like today. I'm a perfectionist, and I really want to be a good mom, so when I have days like this, I really beat myself up. I guess, though, that I just need to chalk it up to a bad day and promise myself when I wake up tomorrow that I'll try harder and do better.
But a little chocolate and a time-out might make me feel better in the meantime. :)
Sunday, January 9, 2011
I should have joined the circus
Like all moms, I can do more than one thing at a time. In my experience, dads can't do this; they can only concentrate on one thing--their heads explode if they try to do anything else. Recently, my husband was putting batteries in one of the kids' toys. He was removing the old batteries when I came into the room and asked him if he wanted spaghetti or lasagna for dinner. He didn't answer, so I asked him again, and that's when I was treated to the eye roll, the one thing he does that drives me absolutely insane. "Can't you see I'm doing something here? Wait a second," he said, and I waited while he changed the batteries, screwed on the cover, and passed the toy to our son. Only then did I get an answer: "Spaghetti." See? One thing at a time.
Now I don't know if all husbands are exactly like mine, but enough of my friends have told me similar stories that I tend to believe my husband is the rule rather than the exception. We moms, on the other hand, have to do fifteen things at once in order to get everything done. We just don't have time to complete one task before starting the next. The other day, I was feeding the kids their lunch while calling for a doctor's appointment, putting laundry in the washer, sweeping the kitchen, eating my own lunch, planning the next week's meals, and writing the store list. We multitask. It's how we survive.
A few days ago, my kids and I had just gotten home from running some errands, and I sent my oldest, who's three, to the bathroom while I took the baby's coat off. (I still call her the baby, even though she'll be one and a half tomorrow.) Afterward, I went upstairs to change my clothes, then went back to the kitchen to wash my hands so that I could make lunch. As soon as I began running the water, my three-year-old was yelling that he pooped and the baby was standing next to me asking for "boom-boom." (This is how she tells me that she wants to nurse. Cute, huh?) Anyway, I thought my head would explode because of all the directions I was being pulled, everyone wanting something from me at once and me with a splitting headache, a rumbling stomach, and a desperate need to eat. Of course I rallied like we moms always do and got everyone taken care of and lunch made. I wonder, though, how my husband would have handled the situation. Kind of makes me laugh to think about it...
So I juggle things--my time, my energy, pieces of my mind. We all do, which makes me think that all moms would make great circus performers! Besides our families, we have other balls in the air too, like attempting to achieve our personal dreams--as I said in my first post, mine is writing--and we have to work hard to balance our "Mom" role with the other things we want to accomplish in life. But we can do it. We're Moms.
Now I don't know if all husbands are exactly like mine, but enough of my friends have told me similar stories that I tend to believe my husband is the rule rather than the exception. We moms, on the other hand, have to do fifteen things at once in order to get everything done. We just don't have time to complete one task before starting the next. The other day, I was feeding the kids their lunch while calling for a doctor's appointment, putting laundry in the washer, sweeping the kitchen, eating my own lunch, planning the next week's meals, and writing the store list. We multitask. It's how we survive.
A few days ago, my kids and I had just gotten home from running some errands, and I sent my oldest, who's three, to the bathroom while I took the baby's coat off. (I still call her the baby, even though she'll be one and a half tomorrow.) Afterward, I went upstairs to change my clothes, then went back to the kitchen to wash my hands so that I could make lunch. As soon as I began running the water, my three-year-old was yelling that he pooped and the baby was standing next to me asking for "boom-boom." (This is how she tells me that she wants to nurse. Cute, huh?) Anyway, I thought my head would explode because of all the directions I was being pulled, everyone wanting something from me at once and me with a splitting headache, a rumbling stomach, and a desperate need to eat. Of course I rallied like we moms always do and got everyone taken care of and lunch made. I wonder, though, how my husband would have handled the situation. Kind of makes me laugh to think about it...
So I juggle things--my time, my energy, pieces of my mind. We all do, which makes me think that all moms would make great circus performers! Besides our families, we have other balls in the air too, like attempting to achieve our personal dreams--as I said in my first post, mine is writing--and we have to work hard to balance our "Mom" role with the other things we want to accomplish in life. But we can do it. We're Moms.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Hi, I'm Dana. How are you?
Why is the first post in a new blog always so awkward? I feel like I'm at one of my husband's work parties, standing in a corner in a roomful of strangers, smiling like an idiot until someone finally notices I'm there. So let me be the one to break the ice. I'm Dana, a mother of two and an aspiring (cross your fingers, please) writer. I enjoy reading, white wine, long walks on the -- oops. Wait. Wrong site. Seriously, all of us mommies have stories to tell, and I hope you'll join me here in my little corner of the Internet, where I'll brag about my kids (okay, not all of the time), complain about my husband (well, maybe not always!), and muse about making my two worlds--Mommy and Writer--mesh.
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