Homework Wars And Worries

She's only in first grade... 

I had heard the homework cries of the mothers before me but she was still little. Only now do I fully understand. The fight about said homework is often worse than the homework itself.

She gets a weekly packet sent home and I'm already critical of the order of the packet and lack of complete communication on what exactly the lessons are. Let me just say that re-visiting all the things ingrmained in us from childhood with "newer" methods is really maddening and sometimes insulting.

My Achilles' heel is math. Always has been, always will be and some of the things they are teaching and how they teach it, I'm like "Wait, what?" It's like I know how to get the answer but not necessarily how to break down how I came to that conclusion. So then all of the issues of my childhood haunt me.

In a conference yesterday, it was explained to my husband that while my daughter is incredibly intelligent, she rushes through things and gets frustrated fast if she doesn't do them correctly the first time. This is a mixture of both sides. Other notes included that she aims to please. Duh! That's definitely a trait of mine. Oh and she has an excellent vocabulary. 

Last night my daughter and I got stuck on a math question and asked my mathematically inclined hubby to break it down. He did this whole charade and when my daughter hit a frustrated moment he told her to go to her room. I sat quietly at the table holding back tears of frustration. On the one hand, I've definitely parented that same way, on the other, I never want her feeling as though she is "dumb" or unable to feel everything that comes with learning and having a hard time doing so.

Full disclosure, have you ever heard someone explain something in detail and you just can't fully picture it? Maybe there is a way they are depicting it that you just can't break through to fully comprehending what they are talking about? You feel dumb if you say "nope" when they ask if "you get it?" So you just fake it until you make it right?

I've had this struggle the past few years at work where I feel like I'm explaining something plainly but when it comes out, a boss or superior is acting as though I'm insane, just making things up or speaking Latin. 

At some point I grew up a bit and realized, okay, slow down and explain it as though even a kid could understand what you're saying, walk the person through it and then you won't feel stressed about it. I use this regularly and now have to share the traits with my daughter. This is parenthood in full swing.

When she got upset, I felt it for her, I knew what it was. She didn't want to feel like "she couldn't." And guess what? No one does, especially us women. We do get the shit end of the stick being made to just feel inferior as soon as we are born. Not all men go out of their way to make us feel that, but there's a general fog of "boys do it better," that goes around regularly.

Getting her out of her anxious place and back to a learning place takes breaks and patience. Getting me away from my age old triggers and out of mama bear mode and into mama bestowing wisdom also takes breaks and patience. When my hubby ticked her off I wanted to yell at him for yelling at her. But I just took a breath, grasped my feelings and talked it out with her so we could finish the task at hand.

I don't know about anyone else, but especially moms, I just feel like we are ALWAYS rushing. We are always trying to do everything all the time and as quickly as possible. It's no wonder my kid rushes through tests and assignments.

We are a chore to rewards household. What this means is, that to get what you want (which is usually some form of technology) you have to do your homework and a chore first. Again, I'm not surprised she wants to "get it over with." How much of life as moms and employees and such do we want to "just get over with?" She is not coming up with these themes alone.

Last night I realized how many changes I would have to make, in order to be the best, most present mom I could, no matter how tired, no matter how "done" and no matter how overwhelmed, so that this kid could thrive. I like to joke that my dad raised three highly creative, highly intelligent, female under-achievers. I refuse to raise my kiddo like that. She will learn work ethic, to value education and to use it to the fullest to become WHATEVER she may want in life.

That starts in school. It's a frightening realization. We are cultivating tiny people to succeed in life. We get 18-ish years to mold them and guide them to be reasonable humans that do no harm and take no shit. This makes me worry.

We have these wars and arguments about reading and homework and how to do this, that and the next thing. And here I sit worried about how to make sure she gets the most out of it all and that I somehow parent her in the right way for her. My biggest fear, and I know I'm not alone but most people wouldn't really admit, is that she take on my anxieties and issues and carry them into her own world. We don't actually want our children to be exact miniature versions of ourselves. We wish we could just hand select our best qualities and then let them be their own level of awesome.

It's funny how one weird equation can add up. That was epic math pun usage by the way so, enjoy that! Parenthood keeps getting weirder. Here I am complaining about a school event this week, one that I truly don't enjoy but "must attend," and there are bigger things to deal with. 

I think my daughter will always need a little extra help. I know that I have needed extra help but am always afraid to ask. My goal is to make her unafraid to ask. This morning she was looking through the annual Target toy catalog and was eyeing an LOL scooter. She said to me "mom it only has the two wheels though so what if I fall? I'll fall." I said, "Baby, that's part of the fun. You fall you get back up and you keep going. You fall and go again and again and again." She rolled her eyes at me a bit but I want to get her past her mental hurdle that things are "too hard."

So much of life will seem "too hard" but that doesn't mean that we won't persist and that we can't succeed. Ushering in this mantra, this idea for her, this is my new project. I'm hoping that soccer and some team building stuff enforces a lot more confidence and strength too. For now, my wisdom is that I just have to get her out of her own way.

Ironically I still struggle with this. I am just now changing my internal dialogue of building up this whole exciting thing and then saying "nah, I could never do, be or have that," to, "If you want to do that, find a way to make it work for you." It's all about attitude.

No my daughter has the sass and attitude to lead a huge company or perhaps a prison gang depending on how things turn out. As her mom it's now my job to harness that for good, for her learning and growth, instead of watching her turn to negativity. Her and I will conquer this together and learn from each other, I can tell. She's already taught me way more than I ever learned in school, but for first grade purposes, I won't tell her that just yet!

46 Concert Shirts, More than $1500 spent, Infinite Memories Made

Last week when I was blessed enough to go see Jenny Lewis live I asked my husband to find my old Rilo Kiley shirt. He said, "Man you have a lot of concert shirts. Like, a LOT."
The light bulb went off. I should count them! This should be blog-worthy.

I spent Saturday piling them. There were two piles: Ones currently in rotation, ones in storage. I counted:

In the two piles I had 46 concert shirts from concerts I had attended and ONE a friend bought me because I couldn't afford to go see Blink 182 at the time. 47 Concert shirts! FORTY-SEVEN!

At anywhere from $25.00 to $40.00 a piece, that is over $1,500.00 in live music fun and memorabilia well spent, in my personal opinion.

As soon as I went through the old clothes a massive wave of memories flooded me. I remembered the show, the set, who opened, that I was in the front and so on and so forth. Some shows I didn't remember much because I drank in excess which fogged things up, but that was also another memory in and of itself.

They all sat on my bed; so many of them! I didn't even know how I had ever fit in some of them. There they were, though in all their glory. It was the perfect picture of my twenties and an illustration of my coming of age.

I went to punk rock shows, alternative shows, indie shows, you name it. I was picky too, the bigger the venue the less it appealed with only a few exceptions. I had shirts for Journey, Foreigner, Neil Diamond and Bob Dylan to name a few. I knew a roadie for Journey and saw them 2 or 3 times one summer. Foreigner was a Florida show when I wrote for Creative Loafing. I took my dad to see Neil Diamond in the nosebleed seats of the RoseGarden arena in Portland Oregon. Bob Dylan was a large-ish theater with my sisters and brothers in law but we didn't sit together. They all hated it and I just thought "Holy shit, Bob Dylan is up there right now! BOB DYLAN."

The Matches, Reel Big Fish, Me First and The Gimme Gimmes, Juliette and the Licks, Cake, The Decemberists, Ben Kweller, Hanson, Flogging Molly, Death Cab for Cutie, Dropkick Murphy's, Mest! I'm unsure of whom I'm leaving out, oh! Big Head Todd and the Monsters, and that shirt was SIGNED.

My husband and I started reminiscing and filling in blanks for each other. We laughed about some, got a little nostalgic and sad about others. Every shirt was a memory of an epic night. We drove from Eugene to Portland more times than I can count. We drove to Washington before for a show. We never had money for new Vans slip-ons and paid bills late, but we found money for concert tickets and food and gas to get us there!

I still have the same obsession with concerts but I have to be more reasonable now. I'm a wife and mother. There have been so many festival type shows that I've wanted to bankrupt us to attend, just drive and go party for 3 days in the mud and see all the music until I couldn't stand anymore. 

If I went through each shirt I could probably blog about the entire circumstance around the band featured. I could tell you who introduced me to that band, why they are epic, which songs I love, which songs I hate and then why I went to see them and pick that shirt.
Sometimes I have trouble remembering why I walked into a room but when it comes to that pile, I can remember it all. 

I found my Foo Fighters shirt. My cousin and his fiance couldn't go to that show. He gave us the tickets for free. We got a cool hotel room close by and since we didn't pay for tickets we spent the money we WOULD HAVE on tickets, on booze and shirts. I drank WAYYYY too much and annoyed my cousins friends. I feel badly about this to this today. That was their first and only one-on-one experience with me and I was tanked and dancing, swaying, half-singing. It was ridiculous! And the waste of a good concert. I mean I remember it being awesome but still!

So that's 46 shows, and not to mention COUNTLESS others that I came home with a bumper sticker with or a signed set list, a drum set, etc. Going to shows was my sport. It had replaced shopping and I just needed to soak in as much live music as possible!

I'm just sitting back thinking about all of this because when I posted on Instagram I asked if it was excessive or awesome to have so many shirts? My answer is that it's completely amazing because they hold within them the story of my earlier days. I dug out my overalls and an old t-shirt and choker. I found the time to straighten my hair. My husband was adoring me a bit with some teasing commentary saying "Oh it's nice to see you all dressed up and with an outfit and like," I cut him off. I said, "It's nice to see me looking like me? I look like me, right?" He agreed, yes definitely.

Funnily enough, I didn't go anywhere but I think there are versions of me layered parfait-style within the outward Alison exterior. I can't pick my daughter up at school with a shirt that says "Me First and the Gimme Gimmes Got Balls.," even if they are holding bowling balls. I have an Offspring shirt and the back says "Stupid Goddamn Bullshit Motherfucker," or some such. Should I wear that to soccer practice?

You go in and out of phases. My husband and I actually had a ridiculous disagreement in the car last night. He was questioning the music I had on because of the lyrics. One of my favorite bands, Dashboard Confessional, of which I have a shirt, was singing from the car stereo, "My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me, so won't you kill me, so I die happy." He said, "Oh nice, songs about killing people."

I got defensive fast. I said, "This is Dashboard, it's poetry!" He said, "The subject matter is a little intense." I said "Being in love that you want that epic kiss to kill you so you can die happy isn't okay?" He shrugged and said "She's not even 7!" I said, "So when she asks me I'll tell her what it means! At least it's not filled with swear words! We were listening to Fleetwood Mac yesterday! All those songs are about cheating on people!" 

He gave up quickly after I said "How is this any different than Taylor Swift talking about being and Archer or telling people to calm down or doing something bad that feels good?" He was like "Okay okay fine!" My daughter chimed in the back about liking country. I retorted, "Those songs are all about getting drunk!" We finally tabled it but it was a worthy argument I feel.

I want my kiddo to see these shirts and ask about where I got them, ask about the bands and we listen to them and I get to tell her stories. She can like or dislike them. I was listening to the Pointer Sisters when I was 3 (most of those songs are heavily laden with sexual undertones), I was obsessed with The Monkees when I was 5, I loved Talking Heads, whose prominent song is "Psycho Killer," and I went on to fall in love with music and keep it close to me for therapeutic value and adventures.

Those 46 shirts are 46 memorable stories of ME, or infinite memories if you get me going and I love that I get to call them all mine. I feel like more blogs like this will be coming along. Happy musical Monday, readers!  

The Blanket Bumble - Best Friend To The Rescue

Last month on vacation my daughter left a little blanket at a Holiday Inn in PA between NYC and our home base of Bainbridge, PA. At this Holiday Inn we didn't have the best experience before the blanket leave behind. I don't know if it's a male thing but my husband wanted to make sure we left with what we paid for and not a cent more.

With his vast hospitality knowledge we left with quite a discount and without the blanket. This was the first trip where I allowed my daughter to pack her own stuff. There was no judgement and just a few guidelines as far as what to pack, and what she could and could not bring. She asked if she could bring a small blanket for the plane and I said yes.

She grabbed a little pink one she had had since she was a baby and off we went. It made it to hotel #1, my best friend's house, NYC, and then the final hotel before departing from our possession. We realized it had not made it into the rental car for the journey back to home base the same day we checked out of the hotel and my husband called to confirm they had it, to then have it set aside and  sent back our direction.

When I was younger my uncle had taken me on trips with my cousins from time to time to Baltimore and such. I was the little anxious girl who couldn't travel without her stuffed animals. I once left like 5 stuffed animals in a hotel as he was not one to remember the excess stuff in the midst of adventure. I was beside myself. One call to the hotel and one FedEx box later, they came home to me less than a week after the departure.

I asked my husband after his quest for better Holiday Inn service to handle the exchange. I was ill-prepared for the drama that would ensue. 

First I was harassing my husband every other day, which I'm sure he loved about, "Oh did you call them? Did they give a tracking number? Did they return your call?" The responses kept varying from "I am waiting for the Manager," to "Oh they are emailing me the tracking number."

I started to think he was just saying whatever he need to in order to get me to leave him alone. It was the most obnoxious thing. The whole time I'm texting my best friend about the whole thing and she's agreeing with me that it sounds like the hotel is dropping the ball or hating on us for the lax customer service commentary at check out.

There is this song and dance around everything and people saying it has been sent or that a tracking number will be emailed for three weeks. Three weeks of the weird, broken and strange communications or dare I say lack there of.

Finally I call myself and the employee says they never got a credit card number. I give them the card number. It's not working. Impossible but technology is fickle. I give them a debit card number with money to be spent in that account. It doesn't go through. Impossible and so I say, "I think it's the system you're using." What do they tell me to do? I have to call FedEx.

Then I call FedEx and they inform me that they just changed their system. In order to give Holiday Inn the shipping label I must set up a personal Fed Ex account, buy said label and EMAIL the Holiday Inn people the label and wait for them to send. This seems like a LOT to ask of front desk associates who haven't though to USE THE POST OFFICE instead, or have yet to figure out the new mode of FedEx.

Finally my friend says, "Do you want me to just go and get it?" This thing is 90 minutes away. The stubborn mom part of me wants to win the blanket battle and make this hotel get their shit together. They have it. We want it back. Will my daughter live without it? Absolutely, but seeing as they still have the damned thing, can we just have it back?

Best friend to the rescue. Calling to say it would be picked up was another great adventure. I gave the name and spelled it and gave them the pick up window. They said "Okay, but she needs to be prepared to show ID." They can't figure out FedEx but card like a bar for a blanket apparently?

Yesterday I got the picture, my new favorite picture by the way, of my best friend outside of the hotel with the blanket on her shoulder. Operation Blanket Retrieval was a success! She selflessly offered to send the blanket by way of the post office, a genius idea by the way, tomorrow and I said not to. I said to wait.

This may seem odd but the entire exchange has kept me in a weirdly pensive perspective. I realized that, one small thing left behind was a weird stress. No one was losing sleep but it ricochet'd into an argument and nagging between my husband and I, my daughter just wanted a blanket back, an experiment in horrible customer service wrapped in weird karma, making things work for yourself, and best friends coming through in ways they ALWAYS have, with small steps for your child and huge steps for humankind.

It's just a blanket right? But that blanket was a baby shower gift from a friend that my daughter likes. I tried to buy another but they no longer make it. I tried to have it shipped and give an establishment my money to return my item to me, only to have it be, for lack of a better phrase, as shit show. My best friend selflessly volunteered to go and get it and return it and now I'm left, calm, grateful, highly amused and in no rush for return.

Maybe that blanket lives at Aunt Angela's awaiting for my daughter's triumphant return and will be the story of her six year old self. Maybe that blanket shows up with a Christmas package. Maybe that blanket shows up in October some random ass day because my best friend is sick of looking at it. 

All I know is this, we will never be staying at Holiday Inn again, and with the blanket bumble comes simplistic reminders of ALL THAT WE HAVE. I'm so lucky I have a best friend willing to go that distance in every sense. I'm lucky I have a husband that tried but got distracted and I'm lucky I'm so stubborn and persistent that the blanket didn't end up in a donation bin for no good reason. My daughter is lucky she has a mom who cares about a pink heart and peace sign blanket and that her mom also chose the best person in the world to be her only Aunt Angela and drive to fetch that thing.

These are my Thursday thoughts! We are so close to Friday!

Dining Out With My 6 Year Old Is Stressful And I'm Done Pretending It's Not

We live in a weird time, especially in terms of family habits and meal routines. I was raised with the idea of, "What is put in front of you, you eat, like it or not." I now live so grateful that anyone would cook for me that I eat everything, even if I in fact hate the food. When I studied in London my host mom made steamed white mushrooms with everything. Add enough salt and pepper and I stomached them, no complaint. I detest regular mushrooms.

My dad made me eat green beans so much that to this day, I never make or order them; I would never pick them on my own. When I was growing up I used to end up eating two dinners because my dad would feed me before I played at the neighbors and they ate later than us so when I went over and was asked "Do you want to join us for dinner?," I was under the impression it was impolite to say no and not partake.

I have no such rules in my life or house. We rarely eat together at the table, but more often in front of the TV. And I have inadvertently made the habit of eating in my room whilst doing chores. Why? Is it being busy? Is it being lazy? Is it just really bad habits? Is it not caring? It's probably a weird mix of them all. We sit down for dinner with friends and on holidays. We sit down for actual meals on occasion, but if I'm being honest? We're in a kid food conundrum and we all eat at different times and have completely different schedules.

I always feed my kid before I feed myself. I eat completely different foods than she does. I ask often if she wants to eat together and if she doesn't really want to, I don't force her. We have never had much of a budget to go out to eat in any regularity and I learned quickly that in my daughter's current culinary phase it's a waste of time and money.

If the mac and cheese looks or tastes "different," if the breading on the chicken isn't right, if the cheese on the pizza isn't what she wanted, if the hot dog is weird, she won't eat it. So I spend $10 or worse on a stressful time out, where I'm arguing with her, scarfing down my food while I can before she won't sit still, and then I leave with leftovers for her or us both that either further go to waste, or I have to reheat and stomach myself later on. This is not my idea of a good time.

She does better out to eat with my husband but the older I get, the less and less willing I am to risk my time and more-so my money on some culinary caper that could figuratively and literally backfire. I also just don't like monitoring my child to the point of insanity and the whole technology at the table thing as a distraction doesn't sit well with me if we are making an attempt to GO OUT and have "quality time." She can sit in front of the TV at home, why take a mini TV with us?

When we do sit as a family, we talk and joke and eat and then clean up. But there are nights when just her and I sit down and I'm watching her eat, forcing her to get done before she can watch TV and then it's more stress than to just let her watch HER shows, with HER food, while I go be productive or maybe relax in my room. It's okay to think this isn't the best system, because I hit my wall with it and then we end up back at a table or restaurant for more trials. This is just what works. For us. For now.

On vacation the eating out thing just wrecked me. I felt fortunate to have my best friend willing and able to feed my child at their house, and all of the things she loves, with no argument and perfect negotiation skills. We ate all meals at the table, and my daughter loved every moment. If I'm being real, my husband is only home for dinner two nights a week, and he cooks separate things for me and especially for her. She always wants, "daddy's grilled cheese." When she's with mommy it's usually quesadilla time.

She's difficult because if you go to anywhere that isn't Chili's, Red Robin, Panera ( and Panera I can at least enjoy) she might just go on a hunger strike or just ends up eating all french fries and no protein. I stopped torturing myself by taking her out to eat because I can't stand the negotiation. We don't have those issues at home TV dinner or not, she just eats and then clears her plate before asking for dessert.

You can read this and think I'm a bad mom who needs to re-evaluate habits but I've written before about how dinners by the light of the TV were my staple with my dad when my mom left, so they feel okay, and natural. My daughter and I do chores and homework to earn our relax time and as you can imagine her being done with things always precedes my finishing up my "to-dos," so feeding her first never feels like I'm slighting her.

As far as going out to eat, when you're married to a chef you get very stingy with not getting what you pay for when it comes to meals. I almost exclusively dine at my husband's restaurant maybe once a month because I know exactly what I'm getting. I'm also a weirdo in that I have no issue dropping $300 on a gourmet dinner but if I go to Red Robin, feed 3 people for $70 and get sub-par, mishandled food, I get completely irate and go back into hibernation.

Perhaps it's because that $70 is half of a week's worth of groceries, which would be no hassle compared to a crummy meal and handling 6 year old whims out in the world. Hence, I can justify it, and any restaurant worth spending $300 is probably serving the real deal so I can handle that better. Regardless, I have officially stopped pretending that my daughter's stressful dinners out thing is anything but actually stressful and I'm finally in a good place with it.

On vacation our first lunch was a huge flop for her and we even made it her way. I was so anxious. We had to pre-feed her before a wedding, AND before a gourmet dinner out because rather than order and have her not eat it, at least we knew she ate. In New York we ate at Panera twice in 48 hours and she did not enjoy an actual NYC slice of margarita pizza because the cheese looked weird.

It's not worth the stress of me arguing with her at dinner. It's not worth the energy taking her out honestly. I really dislike pretending my kid is that "perfect kid" at restaurants. In fact, going out to eat is kind of a racket anymore, in my personal opinion. You will find some GREAT places, but I'm much more confident in my Chik-Fil-A, Panera and say Tijuana Flats purchases than a P.F Changs, Applebee's or Outback Steakhouse purchase. I at least know my child will carb and protein load at the aforementioned establishments.

I'm very much done doing all that to myself. In every sense, it is not worth it and pretending it doesn't  affect me negatively is equally as stressful. So much like my general "not doing what I 'should' be doing" phenomenon, I am very much over making this unnecessarily harder for myself.

It is in my mindset to better implement dinner table dinners, but last night we were all watching Spiderman together, each of us eating comfy in the living room, laughing and enjoying full family interaction. To me, it is convenience and comfort over "tradition" and routine. I remember not being able to wait to finish my meal and getting away from the table to get back to whatever I was doing, so I think my "cheat" of in front of the TV eating experiences cuts down on that in a weird way because she's already where she wants to be.

I'm also starting to own my war wounds. After a tumultuous handful of years and finally grasping some calm, I don't really want to fight for things that are more maddening than helpful and that increase both my daughter's and my own anxiety. Her comfort is her quiet time with her shows and movies and her favorite food, which she gets exactly from me. I always feel better when I'm lost in visual storytelling and drama as opposed to forcing uncomfortable dinner interactions with family over a race to clear your plate.

In this mode of healing, I don't feel bad that we are still developing good things and memorable routines. We have plenty of time for family dinners out and table dining when she's ready to commit to the moment. For the 6 year old attention span right now, I pick my battles carefully. And as for this Friday, I continue to push through to more growth and continue my journey, no matter how weird, how "unconventional" and how lackluster some of our habits may be. Here we grow!

The Biggest Big Girl Thing To Say

This weekend I hit my max. It was Saturday to be exact. 

I think we were all in a post-vacay back-to-school funk. I did that thing we all do best where we subconsciously promise that if we can just make it to the weekend, things will get better. I did what I had to do, and then some, to get us through. Even our Friday was okay.

I yell sometimes. I hate that I do it, but it happens. I try very much not to, but when I'm mentally pushed to the edge, plus tired, plus fighting off a sinus infection, I just felt like 3 strikes, I'm out. Saturday I had to handle some stuff really well, that I shouldn't have had to deal with at all, and I still had chores to do, and on the rainy day what I wanted to do most was nothing and I totally broke down.

The breakdown was a slow process. It started when we left the house to get gas and then go to a birthday party. We didn't make it around the corner when my daughter started complaining about a cramp. Then it became the worst thing ever and she would die without water. We were 5 minutes from destination 1, 15 minutes from the party.

I attempted to calm her, to down play. I attempted to rationalize. Still the agonizing cries and shrieks were happening. At the gas station she just had to get out and get a water at the store. I got annoyed because $2 in water was not necessary. She could drink her weight in free water at the party. There is a part of me that has been wrestling with the "Suck it up" attitude, often.

Then when the water didn't instantly heal here there we go again. By the time I got us back and settled, ready to go to the party I lost it and yelled. I yelled loudly and a lot. Not my best moment.

I started firing off the list of lost privileges. No technology! We're not staying for the party! Early bed! It was then from the back seat, calmly, I heard her say, "I'm sorry mom I just don't know how to control my anger sometimes." She didn't even say it in a bratty way. It snapped me right back where I needed to be.

My tone completely morphed and I said, "You know what, that was a big girl thing to say. That's a big deal that you said that. So you may have your privileges back because saying that is a huge deal. You acknowledged." It was then that I asked her to notice how calm my tone was and how when she shared with me her thoughts and true feelings, I can better help her.

Then I got down to business. Is this a real stomach cramp or dehydration and just, listening to your body? We then discussed the "Let's go to the doctor" feeling and the "my body is just working on something," feeling. Of course once we got to the party that cramp magically disappeared as did both of our attitudes.

I'm still reveling in this. The whole exchange really. To me it was all growing pains for us both and both of us running on empty. I am self-aware of these feelings for sure but for being 6 and 1/2 she sure was able to pinpoint her frustration well and somehow call me out on my irrational outburst as well. 

For Monday, this little tale is all I have but I wanted to leave it for all the moms who have needed to tap out and who have been pushed to their mental limits. I loved this little lesson, no matter how messy, and am holding it dear because it made us closer this weekend. And I loved every moment of it. 

The First Day After The Vacay Post

After returning from vacation last night, staying up too late unpacking, unwinding and trying to wrap my head around re-entering routines and reality, I am now settling back and figuring out a decent pace with which to do so and can sit down and write.

Part of me assumed I'd have so many blog post ideas I'd have to figure out which one first, but really, my car ride into work left me feeling wobbly and tired. So here I am grasping at my bearings. 

This trip was a learning experience. I could say they all are, but not so much. I mean I've learned how to pack, I've learned how to stress less but the phases of childhood, adulthood and marriage, are all learning experiences anyway, so throw in a trip and it's like free tuition.

My daughter's practice of picky kid eating was brutal and because I had to plan so delicately for that, not only could I barely practice my mindful eating, but I really couldn't report if I over-ate at all. I had no mindset for it. And if I was hungry and there wasn't food, oh well. I know I drank too much Starbucks, but that is all. I barely snacked and when the opportunity for a real meal came up, I indulged because, hello, vacation.

I learned that being "tough," directive and correct about things doesn't make you any friends. I learned that in the right company you can have your needs met with no argument, but instead with open arms, understanding and gratitude. I learned that family is just family, no matter what.

I think this trip was a complete lesson in practicing what you preach, picking your battles and just taking what you can from what's in front of you. There was rain, sun, tears, smiles, and a lot of compromises. I actually had only one meltdown on vacation and then about an hour into being back home I lost it and screamed aloud in the kitchen.

Some of my favorite parts of our trip were at our most volatile moments in fact. On our flight north, my daughter was completely irate that I had mixed up the terminals and there was no Chik-Fil-A only PDQ and she lost it. I calmly salvaged everything and settled for a Lunch-able, a can of Pringles and Chocolate Milk for dinner. The following morning she ate her weight in sausage at the continental breakfast. She was upset and we were walking around the terminal looking for food. I was talking her down. I kept saying 'The getting there is the worst part and you're allowed to feel all the frustration but we can make it work."

I saw an older motherly-type smile compassionately at me even though my daughter was audibly hating me. When we boarded our flight I said "Okay, please be aware of other people and not to bonk into them and you may pick our seats." The same woman we passed was front and center on our flight, already boarded and she said kindly, "You're doing good mom," to me. That was a great moment for me. I liked kindness and support.

My daughter did well until we were awaiting the shuttle at the hotel. She just lost it and I let her sit on the luggage. There was a sweet flight attendant watching my daughter's meltdown, amused at the display and she said, "You know, I was with my 4 year old at Wal-Mart late one night, getting close to bed time. She was talking back and the cashier said, 'I don't know why kids think they can be bratty just when they're tired.' I about smacked that cashier like, 'She's 4! She's tired! And she's my kid! Kids gotta be kids!'" When I finally loaded her into the shuttle that woman said, "You're doing good mom! You got this!"

Those two moments were just the little pick me up I needed to get me through. There were times when my daughter was just straight mean to me, and miserable because of whatever reason. And I just had to get her to a calm space and rationalize. There were a few times I grabbed her arm in a public place and said "ENOUGH!" More often I just let it slide, why? Because she's a human kid completely out of her normal routine. I weighed the importance of "disciplining" her and just letting her be a bit of a kid, which seemingly only bothered my husband.

I think travelling is just stressful and hard, so making it any worse by being "at" each other doesn't serve much of a purpose in my opinion. I think my daughter did phenomenally well in retrospect but there were times when I wanted to lose it on her, for sure. What mom doesn't have those moments daily and especially in high stress situations.

I've become pretty rational with her lately. I've started saying "Okay here is your issue, here are the options, what choice are you making?" I've coddled her and done what I could to pacify in a few situations but I've also made her toughen up a bit.

Yesterday she was very itchy from some bug bites. We had plenty of cortizone cream. We changed shoes. We tried with and without socks. By the end of the day she was just completely done. She slept so hard on the plane and woke up enraged and ready to get home. When we were in the airport I saw some of the dirty looks from people thinking I was this mom letting her child be "neglected" or "whiny." She wasn't bleeding, she was uncomfortable, it happens. Then I had a guy on the escalator smile after my daughter let out a huge whiny exclaim and he said, "We all feel the way she does, we just aren't letting it out like her!"

At the baggage claim another mom said, "I've had those days. I have a 7 year old and 4 year old. Their dad has been with them all of 4 hours and cannot wait for me to get home. You're doing good." Then an older gentlemen said "They grow up to be better," showed me a picture of his redheaded granddaughter and proudly reported her starting college. Even our ride home was okay with her yelling at me the whole way home. 

Yelling at her about any of it, wouldn't have solved the situation and the same went for the entire trip. My biggest meltdown was mostly quiet and born out of the feeling that no one was grateful for where we were, where we had been and what we were able to see. I felt like up to that point I had compromised my ass off, was being "told how things would go," and I just wasn't having it. 

My meltdown at home was born out of a lot of the same things but for different reasons. I didn't have expectations that my home would be pristine and waiting for me, but I hadn't anticipated or felt it deserved to have extra work in my way of settling back in. The first day back after vacation is always rough because you've had all this time away adventuring and then you're slammed back into routines and schedules, I always just hope that there are things in place to lessen the blow of the transition, rather than amplify. Then again, to practice what I preach boy did I have my low expectations train arrive at a grinding halt at the station!

This trip showed me infinite gratefulness. I felt so well taken care of by the people I love the most. I felt like we were appreciated for taking the time to be around everyone and in more ways than one. I felt so lucky and blessed to have been a part of everything. I felt calm, loved and at ease which I can honestly say hasn't always been the case on trips of the past.

I opened my eyes to a lot through this experience, especially in reference to my daughter and husband. I'm a little tired. I'm a little stressed to get back into things, but I know I'll be okay and things will even out after some time re-adjusting. For now, send coffee and hugs and I'll be getting back on the blogging track as well. Happy Monday!

It's Easy To Forget

I don't know about other moms, but I often forget what it was like to be a kid. I think I know, but then I quickly realize how easy it is to forget.

One battle I have with my daughter pretty consistently these days is gratefulness. I want her to know that her life has been worked very hard for to be comfortable in. She'll get upset that I don't volunteer in class much, that I don't chaperone on field trips and I remind her that I work full time to make sure she has new shoes, a new backpack and horseback riding lessons, not to mention food and water and a house a stuff. She'll complain about only having a tablet not an iPad or wanting more toys and I always shut it down with reminders that we work to give her what she has and she should be grateful.

It's not that I don't want to do that stuff for her and with her, it's that it's not so easy to pull off. And for me, that stuff being complicated and annoying - like paying $50 for a background check and fingerprinting to be allowed in the classroom - is easy to forget or to push aside. However, for her it's not so much and easy to forget thing, which is totally okay.

We have an upcoming vacation, which I've budgeted my ass off for, and of course am still stressing about, but I am so excited to just get away a bit. We haven't been away for a year. I'm ready! And while my daughter is excited to visit she keeps randomly saying to me, "But I don't WANT to go. I'll miss my friends at summer camp!" At first this irked me to no end and then I remembered that a disruption in routine and the every day can be hard and weird to embrace all the time. It was easy to forget that I was like that as a kid too.

I was that kid that got homesick, like stomach cramps and anxiety all over when I went away, especially without my parents. She can do okay with certain people, so I know once we're there she'll be fine, but I can tell that now that she's really aware of stuff and plans, she is feeling a lot more about this trip. 

It's all so easy to forget! When my friend's three year old was with me this past weekend, I totally forgot the "Why?," phase. EVERYTHING WAS WHY!? I thought I had answered the question, but still why? I thought she could be pacified, but she still asked why until I was almost blue in the face. 

Maybe the "mommy brain" thing is just so real that it bites us in the ass. Maybe we can only clearly compute the phase we are currently in with our children as opposed to being hypersensitive to our own memories to project them onto their little being. Regardless, all of this planning made me wonder why it's all so easy to forget?

There are times when I watch my daughter and I'm like, "Oh man that is an Alison trait," and other times I just have to step back and remind myself she's only 6 or that she's still such a kid. She gives me a hard time about how she's not a baby anymore and I reminder, she will ALWAYS be my baby.

It's also easy to forget how far they've come and that you can't force them into your ideas of "how it will all work." I learned that lesson the hard way over the past two years when it comes to travelling. Once we were stuck with a late flight and someone said, "She'll be fine she'll sleep on the plane." She did, then woke up violently in pain screaming about her ears and I tried to hold her and the flight attendant yelled at me for having her out of her seat. Good times.

Last year I thought on a late flight she would sleep and again, she had a hard time. She did much better flying ALL DAY and watching movies and shows on her tablet, playing games. No more long night flights where she can't just stay up. This time she is staying up until we get to the hotel and she can sleep as long as she wishes. 

On the opposite end of the spectrum, the whole "easy to forget" thing can go a long way in negativity. It's easy to forget how annoying travelling can be until you have that long awaited vacation. It's easy to forget how much having fun costs until you come back from your trip in some wonderful debt. It's easy to forget how much stuff you have to take with you to get through any vacation, but be grateful if you have washer and dryer access. It's easy to forget how much you LOVE YOUR HOME, until you step away for a bit. It's all about how you use it!

I thought when I wrote today I would just write about, "Hey we're going on a trip," but then all of this just started pushing through my thought processes and into a document. I kind of feel like I'm onto something in terms of holding onto the, "Easy to Forget" stuff. 

I've recently been going through a lot when it comes to friendships. It's been kind of weird because I feel like I have less support from the people that were there when things were shitty, and more support from the people who just were there with no conditions through everything lately. It's like some wanted to be a part of my drama and feed it, and some people just want to be a part of my life period. I also realized that it's so easy to forget how badly you've been treated or hurt by someone once you've moved on and evolved. We shouldn't hold grudges or hatred so letting that stuff go is so important, but it's easy to forget the bad when you're wading through the good, until that bad rears it's ugly head for a quick reminder -- you all know what I mean.

It's easy to forget all kinds of stuff anymore, which is why we have phone reminders, social media alerts and then of course text messages from other people confirming and reminding and checking in. What we have to remember is that we are ALL forgetful sometimes, so we should walk through this crazy life together kindly, if you can remember to be nice that is.

Case of the Mondays; Still Recovering From Three Kid Weekend Bonanza

This morning has been, "Just another Manic Monday, Ooooh oooh." Work has involved unnecessarily difficult customers with long-winded phone calls and the busy work seemed to be never ending. Here I am after my lunch run, finally getting to my blog and putting off a few things that can definitely wait.

So this past weekend I had my friend's son and daughter as house guests and I learned that I am 1000% supposed to only have one child. More importantly, I have a higher appreciation for anyone with more than one child, and the utmost respect and appreciation for the life and child I have created. I didn't realize how QUIET my house is with just her. Immediately, things that were once so easily done, required more tact or extra help and the things I had become accustomed to were on hiatus.

The perfect example would be going to the bathroom. Immediately I banned all children from my master bedroom and bathroom unless being given my permission for anything otherwise. I figured I needed some kind of "safe zone." I would close my bedroom door and my bathroom door but then they would bust in with some kind of issue. I couldn't even pee alone! My daughter is 6 now so I am much more used to being able to go to the bathroom alone. Not this weekend, though.

Peeing alone is like a mom-luxury that is always coveted. It was one of my favorite things about going back to work! There was no kid busting open a stall; no uncomfortable complaints about a smell from a nearby stall by the tiny person yelling at you to hurry it up. 

As far as the bed time stuff, my daughter goes down quietly and early. These kids cry loudly and go later. By Sunday I was a mombie and felt hungover from life. I could barely remember what or if I ate anything, all I knew was to have everything the kids could possibly need ever and keep feeding them. They ate their way through Saturday, Hungry Caterpillar style.

When my friend picked them up she joked, "Now you know what my life is like." I thought, well yes maybe but I think we all have a special place and special kind of patience for our own children that just doesn't always transition to "the other kids."

My husband hit it outta the ballpark helping as much as he could but Sunday morning I just hit this mental limit where I couldn't really deal very well. It was loud, there was no such thing as enough coffee and I couldn't think straight. I'd had not 10 minutes of peace because it was "take time for you, or get sleep so you can handle tomorrow." I always choose sleep. 

After the kiddos had left, my husband and I kicked into high gear on putting the house back in functioning order and by about 3PM all of us could barely move. My daughter was happy to not share and argue and watch hours of My Little Pony or play tablet. I was soooo happy that I could watch something without being chased after every 10 minutes. You could hear TVs but there was no other noise. 

What's in the Joni Mitchell song? "Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you got til it's gone?" Yeah all of that and more.

Besides the fact that we had children staying with us, I realized how much I had become accustomed to my coping mechanisms, my down time, my rebooting, and my mindful eating practices that having them disrupted, even for 48 hours just really messed me up mentally. It was like I started shutting down and not being able to formulate complete thoughts. It was super stressful.

It definitely made me ready for vacation but also made me super grateful for raising my daughter to enjoy her down time, just like her mother does. She was just as exhausted and mentally spent when they left, I could tell. I knew she liked having the company, but I also know how hard it is not to be able to just be yourself in your own place. 

This morning was a little frenzied and mentally I felt like it pushed me right back into that stressed place but I took a good run on lunch and kind of got myself out of the funk. This weekend was a lot of learning about myself but I feel good about that. I feel like the lessons were imperative to keep my forward momentum and stay the path to positive growth. I know it sounds hippie but, it feels like that is what I'm working with.

The kids had fun. There were many smiles and lots of silly memories made. There were nonsensical arguments and constant tattling. There were many funny things said and really weird things done but they had a good time.

So I'm still recovering from Three Kid Weekend Bonanza and my Friday vacation launch can't come soon enough but I'm here! I came, I blogged, I conquered! Happy Monday readers!