flea | Entries tagged with parenthood

I'm working every Wednesday night this semester, which is a serious pain in the ass at 9pm, when I'm starting to feel ready for bed but have another hour of work, a half-hour walk home, and a half-hour cool down before I can sleep ahead of me. But it's wonderful on the Wednesday morning, when everyone else leaves the house at 7:38 and I have five whole hours ahead of me before I need to leave to walk in.

This blog post (http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/01/19/where-does-a-mothers-time-go/) and the WaPo article by Schulte it draws heavily on (which I recommend if you're interested in this issue, which honestly doesn't just apply to parents, IMO) made me extra-appreciate my five hours this morning. I was busy the whole time: did a load of laundry, spent more than an hour priming trim in my bedroom, dusted the stairs (yuck!), cleaned the top of the tub surround in the downstairs bathroom (yuck!), made a lasagna, cleared off the coffee table, cleaned the dcat litter, but Dillo's comforter back in its case after washing it last weekend when the cat barfed on it, and 20 other minor tidying and cleaning things, most of which my dear husband would never think of doing. But for all that, I would mark this time as "leisure" (in addition to "housework") because oh, the freedom of my MIND as I was doing all this! I was full of productive and planny thoughts of a happy and non-stressful nature, a state which continued on my walk in to work. It helps that today is one of the gorgeous Southern winter days (65 and sunny), but it's a wonderful thing, to know that I and only I am in control of my time 5 hours a week, and if I choose to spend it painting and cleaning, that is MY choice.

I should also walk to work more - I miss the exercise, and I really do my best thinking while walking. I came in full of ideas for meeting friends and professional career plans.

an IM conversation with my husband.

me: hi
i got gloomy all of a sudden
basically because of my indecision about getting the kids rain boots
I am possibly insane
Michael: What is up with that?
me: I dunno
I always want thing to be cheaper than they are
also it is so rainy
Michael: How expensive are rain boots?
me: $17 at Target, up to $30 at like Lands End
doesn't that seem ridic?
Michael: Not to me.
me: I just did the quicken last night and we are low. as usual.
just so frustrating
Michael: Don't we have a pair to pass down to Dillo?
me: the next pair we have are size 11.
we had some 9s that were pink and I gave them away.
Michael: Oh
me: anyway. not anything worth stressing about.
maybe it's this weather.
Michael: Yes, I'm glad you realized this.
I think I had one pair of proper rain boots when I was a kid.
me: I know, It's not like it's a need.
only when I compare to happy catalog magazine world
Michael: Now if they are coming home with wet soggy shoes all the time. Then maybe it would be necessary.
me: where everyone's clothes are matching and their hair is brushed.
Michael: And their houses are clean.
me: and their houses are clean.
ha that was a total xpost.
Michael: Jinx
And their dogs don't shed
me: we don't have a god
dog
or a god either, really
Michael: and their cats don't get fleas
me: yeah.
and they use Clorox wipes
Michael: And their kids behave perfectly all the time
me: and BPA-free plastics
and wooden educational toys
and the kids laugh when they go down the big slide in chutes and ladders
Michael: and they eat organic food and drive Volvo station wagons
me: with no cheerios in the car seats
and they have fancy Britax car seats
Michael: No only organic cheerios
me: right, oatie-os.
I think this chat is going in my LJ
Michael: Yeah and Veggie Booty
me: that smells like feet.

There's a tendency for discussions about working vs. stay at home parents to divvy up the time spent on various activities. (For example, here: http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/07/08/parents-who-dont-waste-enough-time/). Then someone asks, "What do stay at home parents DO all day? (Since studies show that SAHP only spend an hour a day playing with their kids.)" And someone replies, "Laundry, dishes, errands, take the kids to the doctor, clean the house, take the kids to soccer practice..."

Here are the things nobody ever says in response to those:

Working parents do dishes and laundry and take the kids to the doctor and all that shit, too! They just cram it into their evenings and weekends, and take mornings off for the doctor part. Um, duh? Yeah, some people outsource housecleaning, and some go out to eat a lot, but most working families (like, say, mine) don't choose to or don't really make enough money to do either of those things, and precious few people outsource the daily breakfast dishes or taking the kid to the doctor. Yes, the house stays cleaner when there aren't people in it for 8-10 hours a day. But the laundry still needs to be done.

The real thing SAHPs do is TAKE CARE OF KIDS. This isn't "playing" in studies, but it is very time-consuming, as any parent knows. Non-play stuff I don't do while my kid is at daycare: make and feed and clean up from morning snack, lunch, and afternoon snack; change diapers/watch potty-trainer like a hawk and plop him on the potty every hour and read a book for 15 minutes while we try to pee; wrangle kid down for a nap (with 2 year olds, this can be an hour-long process if you even get a nap at all, as they want to drop the nap but still *need* it); do activities to keep the kid from running amok and then clean up from those activities. I don't do much housework or errands on days I'm home with kids, except when the TV is on. (And yes, ONE kid can help with housework; I have not figured out how to let two help at the same time without it all dissolving into chaos.)

This piece by Emily Yoffe on her husband's late first wife is pretty uplifting.

http://www.doublex.com/section/life/my-husband%E2%80%99s-other-wife

Wisdom teeth are gone; I am feeling pretty good. Pudding is never bad...

Allowing your 5 year old to watch 2+ hours of TV after she gets home from all-day activities that involve new people and/or physical extertion: allowing a necessary brain- and body- rest, mindless vegging of the sort that many adults enjoy, or allowing child to get away with murder while justifying my own laziness about not making her do other stuff?

Last year when my coworker died, leaving a 15 year old son (and a daughter in college whom I didn't know), what broke me down was that Henry's mommy had died.

A couple of my grad school professors have been caring for their 12 year old nephew for a few years now (they also have two kids of their own). I didn't know the backstory of why until today, when I learned that his father had died, and his mother had become seriously mentally ill. And this weekend she was apparently murdered by her also mentally ill boyfriend. (N. Californians, this is the case in Sausalito.)

For my kids, I am pretty sure mr. flea's death would be as devastating as mine. But for me, because of my family history, whenever a mother dies, my insides go "not his MOMMY." So, spare a thought for Max and his mommy, and bless Eric and Diane for their ability to make him theirs.

http://warner.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/03/19/families-to-care-about/

I've been feeling old recently. I'm 36, which when you think about it is in fact coming up on possible grandparenthood, biologically speaking. The body doesn't know that my kids are only 2 and 5.

Partly the children, comparing myself to them, is what is making me feel old. They heal incredibly quickly; their skin is soft and smooth (like a baby's bottom!); they have boundless energy. I have wrinkles, grey hair which is becoming increasingly noticeable, the start of my mother's paunch, and weird foot calluses. I am always tired (mostly this is the children's fault of course).

So, when does the wisdom kick in?

Dillo just came and got a paint with water book (which just appeared in our house recently - I have no idea where it came from!). When I went to see what he was doing, I found he was trying to reach the bowl of M&Ms on top of the 6-foot china cabinet. By standing on a book that is probably 1/8th of an inch thick.

I gave him some M&Ms just because that was so cute.

(In general news, I am winning all the bad parenting awards today - all TV alla time, two year old "got dressed" in pajamas, pizza for lunch, temper tantrums by 5 year old - I am so hot today, I tell you. A couple M&Ms for cuteness is nothin' around here.)

When the floor underneath the booster seat is covered in bits of angel hair pasta (or cous cous, or rice), don't bother trying to clean up that night. By morning, it will be dry and crunchy and will sweep right up. Fresh, it's sticky wet despair.

Last night Casper and I were watching American Idol when a Barack Obama commercial came on. She watched and the said aloud, "Barack Obama." I said, "He's running for president." She said, "But he's BROWN!" I replied something like, "Yes, so he is." Then a beat while I tried to think of something more affirming to say, and I came out with, "Daddy and I like his ideas and are thinking about voting for him."

I swear, if the kid would ask me about how babies are made, I would be just fine, but nooooo, it's got to be race and gender and class and stuff. I tried to respond to "But he's BROWN!" with the same neutral "there are all kinds of people" tone I use when she says things like, "That man is SO HAIRY!" or "Why does he have woman hair?"

I just feel so unprepared for parenthood sometimes.

I am helping out on a field trip for Casper's school next week. The woman who is organizing it, one of the parents, sent out the email asking for volunteers to the list for the class - which is both parents of every single kid. Note that this is a full-time, pricey day care, so in the vast majority of families both parents work full-time.

All of the (7) volunteers are mothers, except for the Looniversity VP of HR, who apparently is the grandfather of one of the kids in the class. (Which is a whole 'nother kettle of fish, as my parents' advocacy group sent him a letter that seems to have gone off like a bomb over there in the admin building...)

But, NO dads? I was going to make mr. flea volunteer, but he's flying to Tampa that day.

Sigh.