Day 12: On Bidness

I'm over here working toward getting a website rolling, purchase a domain name, and get business cards printed. I tried once already and it was such an incredibly lame attempt. To get business cards. This stuff takes a lot of creative energy to develop and I struggle with setting myself in motion.

Goals are blinding me with their persistence. I want to be a photographer but not like a professional one. More like a good one. That people pay to document their weddings, senior, and family portraits.

I am studying to be a birth doula. Not very fast, but I'm working on it. Remember my problem with reading? A stack of four books on childbirth and my training manual are keeping me company as we speak, placed just where they belong: on the shelf under my end table. With the latest Rolling Stone and Real Simple sitting like cherries on top. Their insides yet to be explored.

I'll get to them, all of them. I swear. I just don't know when.

Stretching myself too thin is a scary concept for me. I watch people around me put their hands in so many different pots. While I admire these characteristics, I can also admire my own ability to attend to what I need to on a daily basis: Raise three kids and go to work. That first part? The raising three kids part? Is fucking huge.

On top of the being a professional part and raising three kids stuff, I'm wanting to pursue my photography business and hoping expectant couples will invite me to help them have the best childbirth experience they can.

These two goals are solid, I know this. How can I feel like I'm walking on the moon instead of trudging through the muck of self-doubt?

Cooking and stuff

Completing the task of Grocery Shopping is so incredibly rewarding. What? Yesterday's post? You're confused? It's like laundry, you guys. An unbearable, neverending task that feels mad-gratifying to complete.

Although I get shit from friends, and my kids' friends, for not having fun, chocolaty, high fructose corn syrup-filled, diabetes onsetting, tooth-rotting treats, I do bend from time to time. Yesterday Egan's "treat" was Transformers fruit snacks. And I'm all Really, kid? That's the best you can do? You poor lamb.

While I'm apprehensive about springing new dishes on my kids, for fear of the rejection of the meal I clearly spent time and energy creating AND them going hungry (yeah right), I went for it. I enjoy reading this woman's blog who has a section called Did They Eat It. She had a recipe that referenced this website. These types of websites were created for people like me: lazy freeloading cooks who like to piggy-back on other people's creations.

Back to the recipe I duped my kids into eating. It looked so yummy in the picture and smelled even better simmering. But it involved citrus, you guys. OJ and apple cider vinegar. Apple cider vinegar that I keep under my sink in one of those giant jugs used solely for dispensing into a small cup combined with dish soap and trapping fruit flies in the summer time. It was the combo of cumin, salt, and pepper coating the slices of pork as it simmered that was divine.

I continued to mourn my failed attempt this morning when I awoke to the same decadent culinary odor. And when I say "failed" I'm talking failing my own expectations. I just don't do that kind of citrus, I guess. The pork, carrots, noodles, and green onions were fantastic. It was the disappointing sauce that leaves me with a Thumbs Down on this one. On the upside, I'm thinking I could hold onto the nummy ingredients and create a whole new sauce. Some day. Maybe. Probably not. Oh, who am I kidding.

Tomorrow is going to be a slow cooker french dip recipe. Anything simmered in beer all day should be right up my alley.

It's that time of the week

There's this deplorable inevitable part of my week that involves an extensive list and a menu. Yet each week I'm just as annoyed as the one before. Like it's the first time I'm responsible for it. But I take it seriously, ok? Being a working mom and a mom, I find it extremely helpful and advantageous to have the week planned out as opposed to winging it.

And what a snot I am. Because I'm super grateful for the ability to not only have the money to pay for healthy food options for my family, but the dexterity and brain power to attempt to be creative, for a vehicle to get me to and from the store, for a clean and safe home to bring everything home to, electricity to power the fridge... So I'll shut up now.

PSSSSSST...I hate grocery shopping.

On shifting

It's been bugging me lately that I have this yearning to create a blog entry, but when I go to write one, I CAN'T. I get this great idea for a topic and then POOF! just like that it's gone.

Today it dawned on me: The masthead. It's all wrong. Just like me struggling to go about my daily routine with Jon still in it, this blog still has him in the masthead. See? Up there?

Not only that, you guys, but we no longer have the Sprinter, bless it's heart. Probably went to some electrician, or general contractor, or painter, or courier, or moving company. SOMEWHERE IT BELONGS.

Just like the decision to ditch the Sprinter and finally get a normal family vehicle, I opted to ditch Jon as my husband. Wait. I'm still keeping him on as The Father of My Kids. He's really good at that part. Amazing, even. Not so much in the Emily's Husband role, though.

I'm shedding things over here, you guys. People warned me this happens with divorce. And I'm really thinking I'm starting to believe it. The contract is the first to go. You know, the one that declares this person as your HUSBAND or WIFE? Just a formality? Really? Enjoy it when you get sick of that person you spent however-many years with and want out. And that whole 50% thing? Might be worth paying attention to.

Friends shed like your dog's winter coat. Or that snake skin you find on the vine whilst vintnering (shout out to Molly!). It's amazing how people choose to align with one person or the other, rarely maintaining a balance with both exes. Everyone plays a hearty role in creating this shift in friendships. I've found trusting people I once thought I could to be difficult. If you're friends with Jon, supporting Jon, how can you also, equally, support and help me? And vice versa. You may think you can, say you can even. But I don't buy it. I successfully shoved a pretty good friend away by, well, I'll keep all those dainty details to myself. But see, I clearly needed to shift myself in a different direction than the one I was going. I have found a minute select few who are capable of being friends with both Jon and me. And that group can be shaved down into two more groups: Real and Not So Real. Surface bullshit is no longer a part of any friendship I desire. Being blunt and honest? That's a very strong part of my character. Those who can't handle it, POOF! gone.

There's this thing we call Self Medicating. Are you familiar? Thought so. Being able to shed the need to escape into a bottle of High Life or even Torpedo or Two Hearted and replace it with going to bed when my kids do is a fantastic change. Plus I like to enjoy my beers and not just not just regret having them when I get up in the morning. Ouch.

Part of being married to someone I didn't want to be married to created a lot of conflict within myself. Following the divorce, I continued to maintain a positive relationship "for the kids." Just like that guy Doug from the 80s would say, It's an illusion! I'm all, Wait. Didn't I divorce you? For those reasons? Why are you still here? What am I doing? It's like Sleeping Beauty who was awoken after 100 years of slumber by a simple kiss from her prince. Only I'm waking after 10 years of constantly comparing myself to other wives and mothers, knowing the whole time it didn't feel right. And nobody's kissing me. It's Egan shouting, MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM, CAN YOU WIPE ME?!

It's extremely liberating to focus my energies on my kids, my career, my interests, and me; instead of trying to be someone I'm not with all that pretend stuff in the way.

Now about that masthead...

Do they need a wheel?

It's funny what I find myself daydreaming about throughout the day. The most common thought is What am I Going to Make for Dinner. What's even more amusing is the energy I have while contemplating my choices. Do I actually want to cook? Because by the time I finish my schlepping to this kid activity or that, all I want to do is sit on my Big Comfy Couch, read the paper, and drink a beer.

That's when the image of the kids being in a hamster cage lined with wood shavings, an affixed water bottle, and a bowl of feed pellets in the corner, takes over.

I'm gonna share some gratitude and shit

I actually feel inspired right now to bring this writing interface back into my life. At least right now. Maybe it's because things are going pretty well for me and mine. Maybe it's because my New Found Freedom has me all into myself enough to think someone, anyone, will ever read this stuff. Maybe, just maybe, I really want to express how grateful I am for everything in my life.

Encouraged by my dearest Staub, I have been introduced to gratitude lists. I mean, I've heard about all this before. Gratitude and expressing it isn't anything new. It's really amazing when you stop and think, specifically, about what you're grateful for. Because I for one have a shitload to be thankful for. Another word, according to my Guru Staub, is Love. Love defined is gratitude merely simplified. Or rather, gratitude and thanks all bundled cozily in a plush, quilted, fleece lined bunting, tied with a soft cozy bow. In a four letter word.

Lucky you! You get to read what I've been thinking since January 1st, 2010.

1. I love my children.
2. I love the new found relationship Jon and I have discovered.
3. I love having a job.
4. I love feeling free.
5. I love spending time with my friends.
6. I love long road trips filled with music, laughter, and good scenery.
7. I love my new car.
8. I love having a warm home.
9. I love cupboards full of food.
10. I love evolving with my daughter.

1. I am grateful for my close relationship with my daughter.
2. I am grateful for having a healthy family.
3. I am grateful for health insurance.
4. I am grateful for drinking water from the tap.
5. I am grateful for my relationships with strong women.
6. I am grateful for my relationships with real men.
7. I am grateful for Jon's unconditional love and support.
8. I am grateful for my sister and her unconditional love and support.
9. I am grateful for my camera.
10. I am grateful that I can go home to love.

A big red bow on top

There is nothing more satisfying than walking into my freshly cleaned house, inhaling the unmistakable fresh scent of lemons, pine, and Murphy's soap. What does that smell like? A church pew comes to mind.

You may recall my indecisive pride interfering with the common sense solution of hiring a cleaning lady while I was in school. This probably isn't the first time I'm reveling in the luxury, either. My great fortune of getting someone else to clean my house was like winning the lottery. For real. A friend of mine who also came to her senses said, "If I could win a million dollars or keep my cleaning crew? I'd keep my cleaning crew."

I couldn't agree more. I was even having my cleaning gal come once a week until Jon and I created our budget and, well, realized that was just plain ridiculous. After reevaluating, we opted for every other week. Which was going ok until The Day I Got the Call.

I left for work that day looking forward to returning home to a clean house. Have I ever told you how impatient I become around day 8 between cleanings? Remember, I was the spoiled brat who had someone coming every week for several weeks. An entire TWO WEEKS had gone by. Instead, I got home to a not cleaned house and a message on my answering machine from the woman I verbally praised, to her face, every time I saw her, while thanking her by throwing rose petals on the floor and bowing before her as she entered the house. Like that scene from Coming to America.

Her message did not sound like the woman I had gotten to know a little bit more each week. She very flatly explained into my voice mail that she would not be cleaning my house anymore because she was busy at her other job and her husband got a raise. Good bye.

This being the woman who I compassionately empathized with each time she called to cancel because one of her family members suddenly died. Again. Or her husband or daughter was hopitalized. Again. Or she herself had another debilitating illness keeping her home for days, making certain I can see the virus over the phone. As if Mononucleosis himself has rendered my cleaning pal hostage to his evil ways. Again.

Now I have another gal who came highly recommended by a totally separate pool of reliable cleaning women. I feel the need to gratefully praise her too because truly, anyone coming to clean my house? Even though I pay her? Is giving me the world's greatest gift.

Couch potato

Jon's return home each week is more often than not about me and my needs than anyone else's. I punched out around 7:00 last night. A 10-year-old can totally watch Grey's Anatomy, right?

Laying on the couch together

Allie: Who is Grey?
Me: The main girl. That one.
Allie: Her name is Grey?
Me: That's what they tell me.
Allie: What's anatomy?
Me: It's, um, uhh...like, the make up of something? Your body parts are all your anatomy?
Allie: So why is the show about that girl's....EW! ANOTHER TURNING KISS!

Four days alone with the three of them and their myriad requests leaves this mother ready to make any inappropriate show suitable for her children. Except maybe not The Hills. That's my secret.

Don't Ease Me In

The Grateful Dead sang that and I have no idea what it's about. This is the line I've been saying to myself for the past few weeks as I myself have indeed eased in.

My decision to go back to work full time has been met by such comments as "I don't know how you working moms do it!" "Are you sad?" "Don't you miss your kids?" "Are the kids ok?" Followed by martyrous statements from women twice my age like, "I stayed home 15 years after having my kids. There's no way I could have gone back to work." And the rare, "Good for you!"

It's not about what these women think, are projecting onto me, or how I react to these statements. Exercising my right to utilize my degrees is the best choice for my entire family. Being able to say, out loud, I AM NOT A STAY AT HOME MOM has been my greatest admission over the last 7 years.

I often challenge the societal expectation that when women choose to have children they must then have no choice and stay home. Talk about going to work full time! As one of my dearest friends once said as her husband urged her to get up one morning, "as soon as my feet hit the floor my day doesn't stop."

Unless you've done it, you can keep your mouth shut. Not all of us are cut out for all that is required of us. Some of us choose to medicate, self medicate, or go through the motions, unhappy in the role society has chosen for us.

Moms like me are left feeling inadequate. I didn't have the desire to create crafts or take the kids to this story hour or that play gym or breastfeed them til they're 9. Instead, I was left feeling resentful and irritated by their mere breathing. MY KIDS! Have you met them? They're hardly the types to drive you to drink in the afternoon or lock yourself in your room and cry; one I started getting way too good at and one I truly started contemplating.

Please throw me in.

On settling in as a SAHM

Last year at this time I was donning a life jacket as I prepared to plunge, head first, into full-time graduate school. Which is pretty hard to do with a life jacket on. Halfway through the first two weeks I took it off and said sink or swim. Many people sang my praises as they could only imagine undertaking graduate school as a single parent of three kids. Sure its difficult. But truth be told, you can do it too with the proper adjustment period.

This year at this time I am settling into my role as a SAHM. I seriously think it took until this week, maybe last week, for my daily responsibilities and little projects to be caught up before I've been able sit here saying to myself, out loud, because you do that when you're home by yourself all day, "I am a stay at home Mom."

I dusted off my handbook on How to Say No because as a SAHM you're automatically assumed to be available to volunteer for virtually everything. And I, for one, have absolutely no problem saying no. Except to online purchases. And iPods.

I have also begun putting my resume out there because these walls here? They're closing in and really hard to climb.