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Work

Lately, I have had thoughts that I never expected.  I have been thinking about going back to work.  Granted, “back” to work doesn’t quite fit me.  I never had a career that took flight.  My degree in sociology never led me to abundant opportunities.  In all honesty,  I never expected to work for all that long.  I knew that I wanted to have a family.  I knew that I wanted to stay at home with my children.  So, these new feelings have gone against who I thought I was a mother.  More accurately, they go against who I hoped to prove to be as a mother.  

As adults, we watch vigilantly as the children in our lives children grow and change day after day, year after year.  Yet, we can easily fail to notice our own growth and changes.  I often look at my daughter with disbelief.  She is almost ten years old.   I have watched her personality regularly transform over the years.  When we met she was a bald baby who cried incessantly.  Her voice and curly red hair grew with her and she became a talkative out - going toddler.  Next,  she evolved into both artist and a quiet elementary student.  Over the last four years she has been a soccer player and sports enthusiast.   Now, she is back in ballet slippers.  I have always prided myself on being very aware of her needs as she grows.  I have always given her space to change her mind, her likes, and her dreams.  I struggle to extend that same compassion to myself.  I don’t often  my own change of opinion and desires as “growth”.

When a take an objective look I can see that I have grown TREMENDOUSLY as a parent.  I have also become a much more effective communicator with all family, friends and strangers.  I am 99% more responsible with money (which doesn’t say much since I used to spend 99% of my paycheck on clothes).  I am a more skilled and confident cook, and a more efficient house keeper.  I have stretched as an artistic and creative being.  I have become a teacher.  So, how can I expect what I wanted from life at 27 when I had my first child to match up to what I want from life now?

The cliché “mothers guilt” would really more appropriately be called “mother’s curse” we are all dammed when we do and when we don’t.  In fact, we feel dammed and even just thinking about doing or don’ting.   I feel for working mothers.  I can imagine that leaving your child under the care of another is painful.  Having to make the decision between a career that you love and a child that you love (or money that you need to care for the child that you love) is complex.   In contrast,  staying at home with children that I love leaves a different sort of pain and emptiness - both in the intellect and the pocketbook.

These ramblings are no attempt to come to any decisive thoughts or conclusions.  If I had those,  I would not need to ramble.  Another thing that I am becoming MUCH better at is waiting on decisions.    I like my life wrapped in a tidy package.   I can see now that the most beautiful of life’s gifts don’t fit into a pretty box, nor are they presented as such.  Like us they need room to grow.

Do you second guess your career choices?

The story of Jack

I can hardly say “I can’t believe my Jack is 8 tomorrow”, he has been counting down the days for months now.  Anyone who knows him knows that his birthday is near, he has made sure of it.  I can say that for the last 8 years, this firecracker has hijacked my heart and taken it for an incredible adventure.

One of the favorite traditions that I have created with my children falls on their birthdays.  A few years ago, I started telling them the story of their birth on each   birthday morning.  Of my three, Jack has taken to this the most.  So, in honor of his birth, I will share it here today.

Jack:

You have always had ants in your pants.  Three months before you were supposed to be born, you decided that you just couldn’t wait.  You were ready to be born ahead of schedule.  So, you landed the both of in the hospital for one month.  We spent a lot of time alone together in that room.  It was there that I learned that you would not be an Abigail but a John Robert V, our “Jack”.   Then we waited, and waited….and waited.  Two and a half months later, the Doctors didn’t try to stop your escape.  So, you exploded into the world, heart setting fire to our lives.

I knew that you would be coming before I put Amelia in her crib to sleep on the eve of your birth.  I also knew that Daddy wouldn’t be there for your big arrival.  He was across the bay in Bangor waiting to board a submarine.  So, we stayed up and waited some more.  I devoured the pages of birthing books trying to prepare us.  Areeba kept us company, following us around with her big, concerned vizsla eyes.  She too knew you were coming soon.  When the sun started to rise in the early morning we headed to the hospital with Grandma.  Amelia, still asleep, stayed behind with Aunt Maura.  She had no idea that she was about to be a big sister.  It was June 20, the longest day of the year.

When we got to the hospital, you decided that you had waited long enough.  You were born in less then an hour.  Fast and wild, and a tornado of emotion – just like today.  The first part that I saw of you were your huge feet.  The nurse handed you to me feet first.  They were so enormous that they hung out and arched from the swaddling blanket.   I was sure they must be half as big as you were (and that something was wrong with them).  I was more sure of the love I had with you.  When I first saw your face you looked so strange.  You were sucking in your bottom lip so much that it looked as if you had a little beak for a nose.  I thought you were so strange looking.  But, I didn’t care.  I had just been handed my heart, swaddled and fierce.  Two months later everyone told me that you were ” too pretty to be a boy”.   Your feet, still big, now looked human.  Your eyes were wide and bright.  Your lower lip released.

Today, while I was unpacking Jack's school work, I found a flower that he had made.  On each petal he had written a quality that he loves in himself.  He had written:

Sense of Humor

Athlete

Scientist

Adventurer

Loves Animals

I don't think that flower can be limited to five petals, but I think he did a pretty good job in trying.

A Short Post on The Longest Pose

I am winding down a yoga practice in where I have been holding my longest pose ever. Almost two weeks ago I started feeling a tightness in my neck and shoulder.  Almost like a muscle pull, but not quite.  

Breathe flows in, breathe flows out this too shall pass.  

It did, but only because I slept through the pain.  The next morning brought stiffness, and intensity.  

Breath quickness, I stop and slow it down.  This too shall pass.  

But, it didn't.  Imagine being stuck in the extension of a shoulder press or in a clumsy Pincha Mayurasana...for ten days.  It starts off manageable, but quickly feels like torture.  There have been times where I have breathed through the pain or focused on a conversation and momentarily come out of the intensity.  There have been times when I have gotten angry or sad.  And, I have often felt sorry for myself.  In the loneliest, quietest hours of night I have been present to surrender and grace, but more often pain and anguish.  The longest pose, the longest practice - EVER.


On Thursday my x-ray confirmed that I have a bulging/slipped/herniated disc in my lower neck (C5/C6).  Boo.  To make things worse it showed that all of my discs look older then they should, so are at risk for more injury.  Double boo.  The pain is largely a result sandwiched nerves.  I am starting to see some relief, but still have limited use of my right arm and hand, and have bicep weakness.  My next practice will be recovery.    As typing is still pretty uncomfortable, I will close at that.  All the while breath still flows in and out.

Baby Lust

Driving back from the gym today Liam declared:

"I can't wait until the new baby comes!"

Me: Um...whah...huh? ...... You.... like babies?

Liam:  No.  But, I can't wait until our baby comes.

Me:  So you would like to be a big brother?

Liam:  Yes.  Then I'll be sooo big, like Jack.

Me:  We are not going to have anymore babies in our house.

Liam:  I'd like a baby.

And then, that familiar twinge takes over.  And then, the brief fantasy of having another baby (which of course is a girl who never cries and is born sleeping through the night).  Although my heart sinks knowing that Liam will never be a big brother, the reality is that I do not want another baby.  Our family is complete.  I am starting to get a taste of the freedom that comes with having older children.  Freedom of having more space for my myself.

No diapers to change.  
No night feedings or wakings. 
No waking for the day at 4:30 AM
No 4 PM witching hour
and with Liam in preschool
Tuesday and Thursday mornings to myself

And, then the twinge is gone...or surpressed.  Either way, the daydream dies.  I have had these little "maybe one more" episodes for years. 

There was a time when I doubted motherhood altogether. When Amelia was a newborn, I went from dreaming of a big picture perfect family to raising an only child and going back to work as soon as possible.  Thankfully, I stuck it out at home with Amelia.  Thankfully, she stuck it out with me, accepting me and all of my faults.  20 months and a few spells of Baby Lust later, and baby Jack joined us.  I was in love, but the Baby Lust was gone.  I knew this time that our family was complete.  A girls and a boy perfect in their imperfections.  We were done, chapter closed.

Only it wasn't.  Starting around Jack's 1st birthday the Baby Lust returned.  I shooed it away, but it came buzzing back time and time again.  Finally, when Jack turned 3, I realized that my longing wasn't staying away.  Nine months later, baby Liam arrived.  This time I knew I was done having babies.  Still, the lust returned again a year later.


I could have ten children and still have bouts of Baby Lust.  It isn't emotional, it isn't rational and it isn't sensible.  It's biological.  It started in my 20's and continues into my 30's.  Time will tell whether or not I will long for just one well into my 40's.   It is hard to close the door on having a baby in the house.  The way that they arch their backs and tuck their legs when you lift their sleepy bodies from bed.  The warm fuzzy heads with that delicious smell.  The list goes on and on.  Apparently, so does the Baby Lust.

Do you suffer from intermittent of Baby Lust?

Veganized

                                         

In January I took the plunge and dove, head over heals into veganism.  I began by only committed myself to a month of plant based eating.  But, I knew that I was sold for a lifetime.  I was right, I have gone vegan and I am not looking back.  It was something that I have wanted to do for years, but didn’t out of fear: 

Fear that I would feel an outsider socially

Fear of being nutrient deficient

Fear of never eating cheese again

Now, I am still a rookie at this, but my fear has been melting away.  For all of you who think that eliminating animal products is an odd thing to do, I assure you, I was weird long before becoming vegan.  Furthermore, vegan or not, you probably have a pinch of freak too.  We all do

I have toyed with the idea of going animal free since I became vegetarian at 14.  I have even tried it from time to time.  I always felt a bit deprived, or weak.  Little did I know, those feelings were not from lack of animal protein.  Rather, they we the screams of toxins leaving my body.  I took what my brain was telling me as the truth.  I failed to listen to my body.  Mistakenly, just as I detoxified, I would throw in the towel.  Well, really Fear grabbed the towel and hurled it for me. 

Over the winter break, I saw two films that changed my outlook and sparked my interest again.  “Fat, Sick, and nearly Dead and “Forks over Knives”.  These movies had sat in our Netflix que for a while.  Along with “Waiting for Superman” and other films that I knew that I should watch but knew would shine the light on things that live in a fog, I had let it sit for a couple of months.  Having successfully abstained from (most) of the annual holiday gluttony, I was feeling strong and inspired.  I was also feeling a little smug.  As a long time vegetarian and relatively clean eater, I was hoping to sit down with my tea and give myself a pat on the back.  No such luck. 

These two films reminded me of the health benefits of not eating animals.  It also gave compelling reasons to give up all animal products and eat a plant-based diet.  It didn’t stop there.  I also gave up all caffeine and alcohol for a month.  I now drink caffeine once or twice a week and limit alcohol to special occasions (which may, or may not include the weekends (which may or may not include Thursdays)).   After 22 years of eating meat free, I am now reminded of why I don’t eat animals. 

Swimming through the toxic waters of caffeine, alcohol, dairy and eggs has had it’s ups and downs.  I couldn’t tell you much about the early days.  Mostly, because I was completely and utterly exhausted.  As I pushed through these lifestyle changes, I became tangled in many of my own demons.  On those chapters alone, I could fill a novel.  I have found that jumping in with enthusiasm is how I thrive in life.  I never like did like getting my toes wet first.  And, hey, if it was good for Albert Einstien, maybe it could be good for you too.

You can Have Christmas

Looking at all of the many, many holiday's that we celebrate during the year, I can think of none I enjoy more then Mother's Day.  This is a totally selfish confession.  In fact, not one that supports the virtues that we as mother's are celebrated for at all.  Regardless, you can take Christmas, Easter, Valentines, and the 4th of July out of my celebration rotation.  Mother's day is where it's at.   I should clarify that I am only speaking of the pagan rah rah of these holidays.  I would, in fact not trade the birth of Jesus or the independence on our country for a few hours of guilt free pampering.  But, the days, weeks, months, of shopping, crafting, planning, baking and discussing that comes with the rest of the hoildays would not be missed.


Mother's day is a beautiful day.  First off, it is always on a Sunday.  Unlike Birthdays that often require I put in a lot of work to help the kids celebrate me, Dad is always home.  No one questions that I stay in bed way longer then everyone else.  When I wake up, no one expects me to make breakfast.  There is even breakfast waiting for me!  And there are beautiful home made cards that say lovely things like "thank you for taking care of me, I love you".  There are perfect and hilarious portraits of me with arms as thick as tree trunks wearing fancy dresses and an enormous umbrella smile.  I get to wear garish mom bling made from giant rainbow colored beads and foam letters.  I get to hide out and read, write and take a much too long shower.  No one questions me.  It is my day.

(side note: Amelia and Jack are not abandon at shore, but in the care of loving grandparents)

Yesterday was perfect.  After a long winter's wait, we finally put our kayak in Lake Cushman for the first time ever.  The sun was out and the clouds had taken sabbatical.  The Lake felt as icy as the snowcapped olympics.  Life felt perfect.  

Just ask Jack.....

Now, flash forward three hours to the car ride back to Tacoma and ask Jack again.  Go ahead, ask him. No.  Wait a minute, he can't answer.  He is busy vomiting into my cupped hands.  And there, just as magically as it began, it all ended.  There in lies the real mother's day.  Just as generations parents have told their jealous children "everyday is kids day".  Everyday is mother's day too.  For better or for worse, I'll take them all.

He's 4!!!

Liam, age 3 1/2

Or is he?  True to form, upon waking this morning, my little fire ball argued that he was not yet four years old.  Apparently, in order to graduate to the next age, one must blow out the candles on their birthday cake.  Candles on a birthday breakfast will not count.  No, turning four will happen when, and only when, the candles on a birthday cake served at your birthday party are blown.  My Liam has such a strong passion about this that I am now wondering if it is true (So, can I delay 38 by not allowing a cake or party? Or, better, I am I still 36 since my birthday cake was not served on my actual birthday? )   But, that is Liam,  a passionate and spirited debater.  This little tree's roots run deep in the soil of conviction.

Oooo, I can still feel weight, smell and sweetness when I see this picture

I have delighted in watching the intricacies of this little spirit unfold over the past four years.  With a little bit of experience in my parenting change purse (notice I did not use the words knowledge or skill), I see how a connection with a child grows with time.  No, I don't love Liam any more then the day he was born.  I do, in some ways love him more richly.  I now have a much stronger sense of who he is and how we as mother in child are together.  If I would have guessed who my child would become at his birth, I would have imagined a very different person.

A tiny cherub wearing the Schroeder family baptismal  gown

For one, I imagined that Liam would have been a little more mellow.  Maybe that was just a pipe dream, but that is what I saw when I looked ahead.  I would have probably pictured a more typical 3rd child.  One who goes along for the ride and is a little more clingy and needy then the older children.  While he is the biggest lover of my three and maybe a little more clingy he is so different from what I imagined.  When Liam stood at the fork in the road of survival he chose to WALK the path, he would NOT be taken along for the RIDE.  Rather, he would survive by letting his needs, thoughts, ideas, loves and hates known.  Every minute of every day, this soul demands to be heard.  Not just heard but listened to.  Should you chose not to give Liam your full attention, you may find him gently (or firmly) demanding it.  He has been know to put his arm around your shoulder and place his hand on your cheek turning your face to his.  Fierce blue eyes like lasers, just try to look away.  Try not to smile.

Master communicator by four, I now see that this soul is destined to take the lead of others.  Yes, I do see that most preschoolers are bossy and struggle for power.  No, I have never encountered one that is more convincing.  I have met few people who were as persistent and convincing as this little boy.  "No" doesn't faze him, it is just a delay on the journey to "yes".  This child can get anyone to do anything.

Hiking at Mt Rainier on Daddy's back

The day after his birth, I chose Liam's name.  I was aware that the name means "protector".  I thought that was odd and struggled to find a poetic way to make that fit who he was.  I thought, perhaps, he would grow to be an environmentalist.  No, he is what his name infers.  He simply protects people.  Liam will defend his brother and sister to the death.  Even when they have just been miserable to him.  I can't scold Jack for hitting or being rude to Liam without Liam coming to Jack's rescue (a loud commanding verbal rescue).  He protects his sister, the dogs or his parents just the same.

Liam age 1 1/2

Protective of his eggs on his 1st hunt

Third Birthday Short Stack

Never a Wallflower always a Sunflower

Above all the things I adore about this person is his ability to make you smile and his energy and freedom in love.  For the child who says it so often with such sincerity,

I LOVE YOU!

Dear Running, you are nothing but a pain in the meniscus.

When you are feeling broke, everyone else is getting promoted or going on vacation.

When you are watching what you eat, the rest of the world starts baking and indulging. 

When you are lonely and single, everywhere you look you see sickeningly happy couples. 

When you give up caffeine, every parent is sporting a starbucks cup at after school pick up. 

When your child throws an ugly fit in the library, you are surrounded by smiling, whispering, children.  

When you injure your knee in January, the entire planet decides that February and March are for running.  

It has been decided that these months are for running, happy running.  Not the type that leaves you scowling in the rain checking your time every 3 minutes.  Rather lovely, endorphin filled running that leaves you in love with life.  I want to be filled with endorphins, flying around the city.  Alas, I am walking dogs and trying to ignore the dull ache in me right knee.

I don’t know how this happened.  Maybe it was running, maybe it was another fitness adventure.  Blooming with the new year, a dull pain emerged in my outer right knee.  Naturally, I ignored it and relied on my bodies super healing powers to take over.  That didn’t work, so started icing after working it.  But, the irritation became mild pain.  Once I started (lightly) training for a ½ marathon at the end of January, it stubbornly dug in it’s heals.  I dug in mine too.  Knee postured. I stuck out my tounge.  Jab-cross-jab-hook-strike. OUCH!!!  

Post runs left me unable to walk down stairs with out clutching the side of the walls.  I couldn’t cross my legs when seated with out irritation.  Going from seated to standing was reminiscent of my arthritic grandfather rocking out of his armchair.  My knee threw up it’s arms in victory and started singing that horrible “We are the Champions” song by Queen.  I gave it a raspberry and put up my feet.

I woke up with remorse for my poor behavior.  But, it was too late.  Knee was giving me the silent treatment.  I think that I went too far this time.  I am not sure that we can ever trust each other the way we used too.  My doctor says that knee's affliction is an irritated meniscus.   It’s probably not a tear, but it won’t heal without rest.  In fact, it will get worse without rest.  Just to be sure I tested that out a couple of times.  He was right, athletic impact made it worse.  It has been over 4 weeks of nothing but yoga and other low impact activities, and still my meniscus is holding a grudge. 

Last week I celebrated my thirty-seventh birthday.    I think I have finally learned a lesson that I should have learned at twenty-one.  I’m NOT invincible.  Hurt happens, injuries happen, disappointment happens.  My body will age.    I hope to repair the damage I have done.  I suppose that leaves me to wait and listen.