Half-Empty...

Is that glass half- empty… or half- full?

In my house, it’s more like, is that toothpaste tube nearly- empty… or just a bit full? What about the all-purpose cleaner, shampoo, mayonnaise? We have nearly- empty bottles, tubes and jars in all parts of the house (though my husband might argue those containers are actually a bit full). And being the conscientious homemaker, I make sure to purchase another while I’m out at the store.

Trouble is, I am wowed by the clean packaging of the laundry detergent, the heaviness of that shampoo bottle in my hand, the smoothness of the spreadable butter. I just NEED to open and use the new product at the first opportunity. Which means I have six types of shampoo just cluttering up my bathroom and two containers of ice cream in the freezer developing ice crystals as we speak.

Why do I love that newness of… anything and everything? It’s because it’s unblemished. It’s the promise of hope and opportunity. It’s neat and clean and simply whole.

But give it a day (or a swipe of a knife covered in toast crumbs) and suddenly this new product is ruined. Alright, maybe ruined is too dramatic. But it’s definitely changed. This product is now changed, spoiled of its simple lines and a reminder: THIS IS MY LIFE.

At each transition (getting married, having babies, moving, etc.) I saw the new start as an opportunity to BE BETTER. I’d be better at making dinner every night. I’d be better at remaining calm with my tantruming child. I’d be better at staying organized. I’d be better at keeping our new car pristine. And then a second (or a minute or a week) went by and I was right back at where I left off.

I’m trying to figure out how to deal with all the emotions that come with seeing nearly empty containers around the house. I could simply empty them and rinse them out, then send them to the recycling container, right? But then that voice in my head is reminding me how wasteful that would be and asking, why not just use up that last bit of jam? Squeeze that last bit of toothpaste out of that $4 tube. But when I start to make that sandwich, I want the NEW JAM. I don’t want to crimp and squeeze that tube to get that last bit of toothpaste. I want the ease of the new tube and plus, I like the flavor more. So then a seemingly simple decision turns into something so much bigger and all these words start flying around my brain, like wasteful and useless and excessive.

This is my head, this is where my thoughts go when I see two bottles of ketchup, one brand new and opened and the other, nearly empty and just sitting there, lonely and aging. Ridiculous, right? So what do I do? How do I settle this? Because we all know this is not just about ketchup and toothpaste and butter. It’s about the bigger picture. It’s about this internal conversation that is making the day to day a bit more of a struggle than need be. It’s about patience and commitment. It’s understanding that life is messy and unkempt and unpredictable.

Today I will use that mustard container that is mostly air and hard to empty. I will use it just today and if it splatters the mustard onto the bread à la Jackson Pollock, I will declare it empty. And I will let go and move on.

Self Renewal and Other Fun Stuff.

A good friend of mine asked if I wanted to take part in a women’s circle; we’d be reading The Mother’s Guide to Self-Renewal. I sampled it via the Internet and was really excited. It screamed out to me, and I knew it was just what I needed. The author wrote another book titled Nurturing the Soul of Your Family. Naturally I added both to my cart and they arrived days later.

Now I’m wondering WHAT WAS I THINKING?!

How can I nurture the soul of my family if I can’t fucking make my bed and put away the laundry and remember to send birthday cards? I scrap together lunches in the morning for my kids while other moms are perfecting the art of Bento boxes and dressing their kids in neatly matching threads. My throat is sore, my eye is pink, my dog sheds more fur than you’d believe, and I JUST NEED SOMEONE TO TAKE CARE OF ME.

Gah!

The thing is, I want things to be simpler and kinder and just easier than it is now. And in my head that means I have a white couch and a bookshelf with the classics and a few sweet photo albums. I have a bathroom with a large window overlooking something nature-y. I’m having coffee with my sweetheart and we’re talking and laughing and smiling. Our house is clean and our yard is filled with beautiful flowers and the garden is full of ripe produce. We have a cute car and we have great relationships with our kids...who are grown and living on their own and they’re strong, happy and successful adults!! FUCKING A! I think the life I want to live right now is that of a retired, older version of myself!

Shit.

Well, seeing as our youngest isn’t even one year, we’ve got a ways to go!!

So how in the hell do I find satisfaction with where I am right now. Wait, wait, back that bus up. It seems like I’m not satisfied, right? Oh, poor me for having small children and an old couch and a dog that sheds. Yeah, yeah, I get it. But it’s bigger than that. I’m on the brink of something, I swear.

I love my family.

I am appreciative of our home.

I feel satisfied with my work.

I feel connected to my community.

I am grateful for the ability to buy food, clothing, items for our family and home, etc.

...so I’m thankful, right? I AM satisfied, I tell you! But then these sweet statements get swept to the side and life happens. It overwhelms me in such a way that I need to tell myself, you’re okay. It will not be this chaotic forever. Keep what is working and change what isn’t. You have a young family…

It’s like, I will be brought to tears if I start really thinking of my children as grown adults, living their lives independent of me. I mean, I WANT them to be happy, independent adults, but I WANT them to also let me be witness to their lives. I also WANT a clean house, but to think there will be a day where they pack up their belongings and kiss me goodbye as they move away… it gets me hard. I want my life as a young mother to be so much easier and manageable than it is. And I want my life as an older empty-nester to be joyful and simple and satisfying. But I don’t know how to get from here to there, especially knowing there are a lot more unknowns in the coming years as a parent to a tween, teen and young adult.

I’m going to figure out the self-renewal stuff. And the nurturing of souls, too. Because if I don’t, life is just going to feel more difficult than it needs to.

So here’s to learning to “reclaim, rejuvenate, and re-balance” my life.

Salut!

Easier...or harder?

Really, are you making this easier or harder?

I ask my older children this, particularly when they’re acting a fool or not listening to me or simply acting like...children.

We’re headed out the door, shoes are scattered, no one is dressed, and I’ve given countless warnings that I’m ready to leave. It’s maddening!

After the warnings, out of my mouth comes that question ...harder or easier? As if it’s their job to make MY LIFE easier, manageable, happier?

When did this shift happen? When did it become about ME and not THEM? Don’t get me wrong. Their needs are at the top of my list but something has definitely shifted in the seven years since my first was born.

Having that first baby was all about tending to her needs, her wants. I knew my purpose in life was to keep this sweet baby girl alive and thriving and growing. When they’re so fresh and newly here, babies’ lives are so precious and fragile, so those basic needs don’t feel so BASIC. They feel HUGE and every decision feels monumental. I had no premonition that she was here to make my life easier. THANK GOD for that because there’s nothing about having a baby that makes your life easier.

And then she turned one. Or maybe it was sooner or later, I don’t fully remember. Maybe I put it out of my memory, who knows. Regardless, there was this time where it felt like she was possibly, just possibly, trying to make me go insane. I had no idea what she wanted or needed or even preferred! She changed her mind and flipped her shit when I’d hand her her pink sneakers instead of her blue ones. She wanted her sandwich cut diagonally and she wanted to hold my right hand and she wanted to get in the carseat herself as I stood in the pouring rain sans umbrella as cars driving by splashed the backs of my legs with dirty puddle water. For crying out loud, she was really trying to make my life feel harder and she was, in turn, making her life more difficult!

Or so I thought.

No, wait. This was all normal? That can’t be it. Because why did I sign up for this? How did NO ONE in his or her right mind WARN ME? We become parents for a bigger purpose, right? It’s a romantic notion, this whole parenting thing. We think it will be sweetness and hugs and photo worthy moments. But it’s not. NOT. EVEN. CLOSE.

No. Parenting is accepting that your kid will be ridiculous. Your kid’s basic needs will turn into these other needs and wants that are impossible to predict. You will have to make educated guesses, and even then, you’ll probably be wrong. You’ll have to just accept that the things they do will not make sense (to you, at least) and when you feel you have it figured out, it changes.

Your kid will make everything more challenging, and you’ll have to just roll with it for a bit. Because they’re learning and you’re learning, and that’s just how it is.

But one day, ONE DAY, I tell you, you will be able to communicate with your kid and they will be reasonable. They will listen and you’ll listen and this whole grand connection will take place. For some families this experience happens early and for others, well, they’re still waiting for their kid to be logical. But it will happen and suddenly you’re both playing for the same team. It feels cohesive and sweet and great.

But if there’s one thing I can share, it’s that THIS DOESN’T LAST. No, your reasonable, sweet kid will turn on you. And you’ll find yourself asking, or at least wondering, are you trying to make me go insane? Are you making my life harder...on purpose? Could you not be ANY MORE challenging?

Know that this is ALL OKAY. It’s normal. It’s part of normal development.

Your kid will make parenting feel easier, then when you think it’s all figured out, they’ll turn on you. They’ll have opinions and inconsistent expectations and preferences. They’ll want you to just make their life easier.

And maybe, just maybe, your kid will turn to you and ask really, are you making this easier or harder?  

Reasonable Expectations.

I wanted to build readership so I took a couple months off from posting. That's cool, right? 

I have three children. Each one was a different story, a different experience for me. I found each new being to be wonderful and lovely and just plain amazing. But then reality hit and I realized my role in this world was forever altered. Heavy shit, I tell you.

Each experience of mothering my children was different. My first was born to two inexperienced souls, my husband and me. She was born underwater and I spent my days dressing her in the many outfits people gifted her and posting on a parenting bulletin board with other mamas having babies in that same time frame. I was home with her and would head to work at around 3pm, where I would stay for a few hours helping students at an after school program. We were fairly isolated where we lived, and if I wanted to pursue social activities I'd pile my daughter and me in our Subaru and drive 30-45 minutes to the nearest "city". It was an otherwise easy situation, enjoyable and full of sweet memories. It essentially made me cocky as hell and tricked me into thinking having another baby was a GREAT IDEA. 

So, my husband and I made a baby. 

And this time it was all different. It was hard. It was exhausting. It required me to dig deep and push hard. I HAD NO CLUE. Yes, he was a different baby with a completely different personality. But what really made it hard were my expectations. THEY WERE FUCKING UNREASONABLE, I TELL YOU. 

I expected, I expected, I expected… 

I expected he would have the personality of my daughter. WRONG. 

I expected he would be sweet and smile a lot and let others hold him. WRONG AGAIN. 

I expected I would breeze through infancy with him as I had with my daughter. WRONG, ASSHOLE!

My confidence dwindled. I had no idea how to manage my children. They were both such babies, two under two. The days after my son was born, I expected my daughter to do more, be more. I expected my son to not cry too much and to be soothed by his father more. I expected to be a mom that had daily activities planned for my toddler while juggling the demands of my infant. I expected to clean, cook, mother, and do all the other tedious shit one must do while running a house. 

I expected that of myself because I didn't know how to LET. IT. GO. I have always expected myself to do more and be more. And it's gotten me into emotional trouble in the past, when I wasn't able to understand how to LET. IT. GO. 

I didn't want to make that same mistake. 

So I found support. I made friends. I saw a therapist. I found work that fulfilled me. I tapped into the resources around me that helped me feel better, be better. 

Things were good, and my husband and I decided to go ahead and see about baby making. It worked. I got pregnant. 

And my whole world flipped upside down and I started to get a better grasp on what I needed. I also changed up the expectations of myself, my family, this new baby and my experiences. 

I expected not that it would be easy, but that I would cope with the loving support of the people around me. I expected that my new baby would have different needs and that I would try my hardest to respond and react to those needs. I expected my older children would help guide our family through the transition of having a new baby in the house. I expected to take each day as it came and to accept and let go. 

This is not to say that my experience was picturesque. No, it wasn't. I had hard times and stress, and I still had to adjust my expectations here and there. But it was all-around great and memorable, and I'd be happy to do it all again, which is NOT how I felt about mothering two little ones five years ago. 

And while I'd be happy to "do it all again", I think we're done making babies. Instead, I'm going to keep my expectations in check, drink a cuppa and keep on keepin' on. 

Summer Vacation 101.

Summer vacation? Kids out of school? On an academic schedule and finished until fall? 

Welcome to Mama Amy Bee: Summer Vacation 101. 

Here's how to have a kick-ass summer. Have fun in the sun. Get laid in the shade. Or some other bullshit you write in each other's yearbook. 

• Make a plan... Brainstorm with the family, your partner or on your own! Explore your community, take a road trip or dream up a big, fancy fly-me-to-the-moon holiday. But figure out how you'd like to spend your summer break and write that shit down. Otherwise you'll wander around, not doing anything remotely vacation-y and you'll hate yourself come September. If you have kids that can't write (well) then have them draw pictures, cut out photos from magazines or dictate what they want to do. If anything, it's pretty entertaining to hear what adventures they want to have! And it may be surprisingly pretty simple: walk in the park, stomp in puddles, make lemonade. Little did you know you can make your kids happy with the simple joys in life. Who needs Disney?!  Plus, when your kids (or you) claim boredom, you just have to whip out that list and voila! It not only works for kids but for you, too! It helps break up the odd jobs around the house and reminds you to take advantage of the fabulous energy of summer. 
• ...but remain flexible. Yes, make a plan. Brainstorm lots of great activities, but don't feel locked into what you think summer should entail. Flexibility lets you have a wider variety of experiences. Check in with your friends and family to see what they do during the summer months. Explore a different part of the country that you have yet to visit. Order a different flavor of ice cream or search out activities that are new to you. Crazy, right?
• Embrace summer-y foods. Visit your farmers' market and plan your meals around what's available. Fire up that grill and plan meals that don't require you to heat up the oven. Make a big bowl of pasta salad to keep in the refrigerator for an easy meal. Want some hot meals? Use the crockpot to cook up a batch of soup and compliment it with a loaf of crusty bread. And head to those wineries and breweries you've been wanting to visit. 
• Love and MOVE your body! Head to the beach and lounge seaside. Cannonball into the pool! Play that game of volleyball at the next picnic, even if you are awful. Play frisbee and softball and ride that bicycle. Your body is what it is. You can either move it and make healthy choices or you can feed it garbage and keep it stagnant. But love it and move it and take advantage of the summer fun that is not available come September (or October or November...). 
• Create a tradition. Decide what tradition you want to start and keep it going (for as long as it works for you or your family). It may be vacationing with family or friends, heading off with your family to a special location or taking time away on your own. Whatever it is, it's fun to have something to look forward to every summer. 

There. I hope you have a great summer with the tips provided. But don't blame me if it sucks ass. 

Traveling sucks.

I don't feel like going on vacation! Maybe I'll just stay home!

Ugh. 

Traveling does not bring out the best in my family. It makes us all shitty and makes me want to crawl into bed and hide. It's the packing and cleaning beforehand and the anticipating that just makes us quick to anger. 

I get into this manic mode when we head out of town, unless I'm uncomfortably pregnant or newly postpartum or in a lazy place in my life. I want to clean and organize and get our house in order before walking out the door. I don't know if it's because I'm prepping for our return or maybe I'm just afraid if we all went down what people would think of our home with its seventeen baskets of laundry and dog-hair covered floors and dirty sinks. 

My husband, bless his heart, is short on patience and complains we're bringing too much (says the man that packed a crockpot for our three-day stay at a rented house in Michigan). He takes packing the car seriously, maximizing space like no-one's business. But heaven forbid another bag appears once he thinks he's finished packing! His easy going nature turns sour for those few hours spent tackling the last-minute tasks that simply must get done before leaving the house on a so-called relaxing vacation. 

And let's not get started on the children. 

Luckily, the tension eases a bit once we're in the groove of the vacation, though there's no telling what will make one of us snap. It's actually kind of like a game: when will someone in this family lose their shit and make everyone's mood sour? We should really take bets and make some money on this life of ours. 

I give it ten minutes. No, eight.

Snooping.

When I return to my childhood home, I enjoy looking around. One may call it snooping, but I hardly call it that when I did used to live there. Surely I have some right to look in the drawers and cabinets that are no longer filled with my belongings.

Snooping, er, I mean exploring, isn't anything new for me. 

I grew up with an older brother, and I adored him. I thought he was the coolest, best brother EVER. And I just wanted to know everything about him. With more than three years between us, he didn't exactly share his feelings or happenings with me. So I needed to learn more about him through my regular wanderings through his bedroom. I found flannel shirts to borrow, music to jam out to, and yearbooks to flip through. I never found anything newsworthy, which I'm sure he'll be happy to learn, but I felt a bit closer to my only sibling. 

I explored my parents' bedroom the same way, opening drawers and seeing what was kept away from my prying eyes. Again, nothing grand, though I did get an idea what my parents valued and felt was worth keeping. I might complain about my mom never getting rid of things, but I'm now thankful she has stored things away; I find my old school papers, wallet sized photos of me in fourth grade, letters I mailed her while I was in college. Knowing she's kept these reminds me of her love for me and her interest in my life. That feels good. 

Now, as a mother and wife, I'm faced with the opportunity to explore my husband's boxes holding his letters, pictures, writings, music. I can look through my children's dresser drawers, which is where my daughter tends to store her special Valentines and drawings and birthday goody bag treats. I wonder if my children and husband ever look for mementos from my previous life, the one before I was married and had children. 

I think about how I'll handle their privacy as the years go by; I don't have any interest in snooping through my husband's collection of stuff from throughout his past, though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious what he's found important to keep around. And my children aren't so private that I really want to look around without their knowledge. But what happens if my children become highly private and secretive and they close me out? What happens if I ask to read my husband's latest writing but he tells me he's not ready to share yet? Will I find myself compulsively wanting to snoop? To learn more about them through their computer files, emails, texts? 

Ugh. I really hope not! I want to maintain the openness and trust we share now. It's easy to say I will respect my children's privacy and closed doors and hidden journals. But what if they grow older and push me away? What if I'm worried for their safety and health? What then? 

I think about my relationships with those I love, and I know I want to nourish these relationships so that I don't resort to snooping. Because love and trust and respect not only come from relationships but they also make them stronger. It's this big cycle- love and trust and respect begets love and trust and respect. Right? 

Or am I wrong?