guess where i’ve been six out of the last twelve days?

• a) to an urban spa
• b) to yoga class
• c) to our city’s new anthropologie (did i mention that i like that store?)
• d) to the pediatrician’s office

sadly, the answer is d.

reasons inc lude:

• the monkey has sinus problems
• the monkey has a double ear infection
• the bird has a double ear infection
• the bird needs an ear re-check

and now on to my personal failure as a mother…

during a well-earned time-out for the monkey, i opened the bathroom door (yes, the bathroom door. the monkey’s upstairs room is just too long of a haul with a kicking, screaming child) because he was pounding it with his fists. i simply asked him to stop all of this pounding and closed the door. on his pinky finger.

the finger looked broken, and the monkey was hysterical for an hour. my car practically drove itself to the familiar destination, where our doctor looked upon us with pity and said, “wow. i feel like we’re really getting to know each other!”

the finger isn’t broken, so after the doc “buddy taped” the pinky to the forth finger, we were free to go and live our lives in (hopefully) less dramatic, better behaved, and more careful fashion.

i’ve not yet completely processed the whole episode but i did notice two things during my own personal motherhood hell. first, as soon as the injury happened, my head was flooded with this message: “don’t fall into the black hole of guilt. that will not help anyone.” i also observed that even the slightest little joke about my role in this injury would have sent me over the edge. but the doctor was very compassionate toward both the monkey and me. this is just one reason why i love her.

before i had kids, i loved to travel. i delighted in frequent flyer miles. now i’m a frequent flyer at laurelwood pediatrics. shouldn’t i get some sort of a prize? free clarithromycin?

first name: Emma

age: 31

in her 2009 book, bad mother, ayelet waldman opens with this line: “we are always watching: the bad mother police force, in a perpetual state of alert-level orange” (5).

how true this is. i flashed my bad mother police badge long before i even had kids, as i scoffed at those parents who were so driven by their children’s schedules that they forgot about their own lives. since then, i’ve eaten those words and MANY others uttered in expert tones. what is it about parenthood that invites such judgment?

i’ve examined this judgment in other posts , and i’ve read the accounts of many women who have reluctantly added “other mothers” to the long list of challenging people in their lives. i’ve also addressed the widespread and ridiculous standards that serve as the backdrop for our parenting. i am just one person in a progressively expanding army of unsatisfied mothers who are joining forces to institute a healthier culture.

but the complaints about judgement and the frustration with standards seem to exist in these discussions as two parallel but unrelated realities. waldman begins the important work of connecting the dots between them. basically, she says, when we judge ourselves against the impossible standard of “the good mother,” we feel so deficient that we are compelled to console ourselves by comparing our own ways with those of “the heinous bad mother” (15). we judge others in order to recover from judging ourselves.

i love this bit of insight! quashing the “bad mother police” just feels like an impossibly overwhelming task. but adjusting my self-standards actually feels do-able. it’s exciting to think that by doing some good internal work, we can each help to create an environment that is supportive, and not “alert-level orange”.

[the source for this post can be found on the bibliography page located in the sidebar. the photo in this post is from http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3575/3464797518_c40f36fd3a.jpg.]

though i cannot say that the boys and i were much of a help to my gardening guru father-in-law, yesterday’s vegetable/herb planting event was a roaring success, complete with a picnic lunch. this outdoor challenge pledge is fun!

dear readers,

i think that you and i are familiar enough with one another now that i can really show you the ropes. this makeshift parenting thing is serious business, and you can either hold your life together with a ladder, an old shoe, a cardboard chimney, an art frame, and some plastic bags, or you can bind up the chaos in a neat little package, held together by guilt and ridiculous expectations. choose wisely because it’s a matter of survival.

a year and a half ago, our family moved into our current home. in our previous home, all of the bedrooms were upstairs. in this home, the master bedroom is downstairs and the kids’ rooms are upstairs. this floor plan will be ideal in ten years, but for right now it presents some challenges.

one such challenge became an issue about a year ago, when the monkey learned how to hurl himself from his crib and onto the floor. we quickly moved him to a toddler bed, which was kind of like moving a child from a prison cell to a candy store. suddenly, the monkey was bouncing off the walls in his room during nap time, and it wasn’t long before he was spotted fondling pins and needles in my sewing nook and teetering dangerously down the stairs!

many parents would take these as signs that the two-and-a-half year old had grown out of his need for naps. but i wasn’t ready to face this notion.

then, one sunday morning, i preached a really crazy sermon on the good samaritan that involved costumes. after googling “samaritan” and discerning that a blue miss america-style banner was needed to clad this particular character, i fashioned such an accessory and schlepped it off to church with the other props. and then, as i was in the middle of proclaiming the text, i gazed over at the church member who was playing the part of the samaritan, and an idea came to me. it was a simple solution, really, and one that has drastically enhanced our quality of life.

before you dial the number to child protective services, you should know that the doorknob is tied to the railing with a slip knot. one pull of the end of the stole (if you will), results in instant freedom for the monkey — in case of a fire, for example.

judge me if you want to. i think this makeshifting idea was a sign from god.

let’s face it. pledging to play outside every day for the month of april is sort of like pledging to drink wine every night (oh, wait! i already do that) or pledging to buy something new from anthropologie every day. the garage doors lift, and out burst two little bears, fresh from a long hibernation and hungry for the sunshine.

they are very comfortable with outdoor toys: our beanbag game, sidewalk chalk, the tricycle, various balls, and a golf club. i’m thrilled with this. but i hope to also guide them into the spaces where the main events are things like dandelions, earthworms, and dirt.

today, the boys and i will be spending some time with my father-in-law, who grows enough beautiful vegetables every year for a wide circle of family and friends. this year, he’s designating a little plot for our family, and we’ll make the trek to the burbs a couple of times a week to dig around and learn how this gardening thing works. it’s not that i haven’t grown my own tomatoes, peppers, strawberries and herbs. i have taken great delight in planting all of these things. it’s just that the only thing that i ever end up eating is basil. if there are any squirrels, slugs, or racoons reading this post, let me just take this opportunity to say, YOU’RE WELCOME.

first name: Mary

age: 27

current city: Denver, CO (hometown Memphis, TN)

living situation: I live with my (soon to be) five year old son, Wally, and my boyfriend, Jeff. 

occupation: As of now, I’m a mom and student. My photography degree is collecting dust. I hope that medical school is in my near future.

how do you structure your time and space? For the first years of marriage and motherhood, I found myself feeling guilty for wanting personal time and space; I thought the world would stop if I took 90 minutes of the day to enjoy myself in a yoga class.

Now that I have broken that bad habit, I never feel satisfied with what I choose to do in my free time. There are so many things to be done! Even if I spend half the day cleaning, I can think of a million things I could have done instead. The worst is when I am playing with Wally, and I feel like I should be doing something else. It’s really not fair for him or me. I haven’t quite figured out how to manage MY time. Taking in each moment and being thankful for each moment is what I am working on.

One of many things that I tried giving up for lent was bad thoughts. It’s really easy to let those thoughts in when I am having a bad day or am overly tired, but I have made a conscious effort to acknowledge those thoughts as just thoughts and let them pass. This helps me enjoy the moment that I am in. I’ve started trying to meditate for 30 minutes in the mornings and evenings. In the morning meditations, I allow my “What-Ifs” and “Shoulda Woulda Coulda’s”, to come in, just to give those thoughts a time and place in my stream of consciousness. The evening meditation is MUCH more difficult; I try very, very hard to let all thoughts go in one ear and out the other. If I don’t allow myself that time, I will spend hours in bed over-analyzing everything!

We recently moved to Denver, and Wally’s schedule was changed the most. In Durango, he was in a full day preschool program. Now, he is in a part time play-based pre-kindergarten program. I wish he were in a longer program, but I am always amazed at what he teaches me at the end of the day. I hope he will be going to an expeditionary style school next year, which uses the teachings of Outward Bound. (I think it is especially tailored to high energy boys.)

I feel best when I am elbow deep in some concoction I’m making in the kitchen. I spend most of my day in the kitchen. Cooking presents so many possibilities! I am working on perfecting mozzarella right now for our pizza nights, and I’m trying my hand at crackers.

I am seriously considering going to medical school. This notion has been a small voice within in me for years, and it has only gotten louder. It has taken me years to gain the self-confidence to own this medical school dream. I’m older, with a child, and I know I want more children in the future. Is it okay to sacrifice a few years of being the active kind of mother I am now? Whethor or not I could cut it in medical school is no longer the question. Now it’s about deciding what I really want for my future. Is it really possible to have it all?!

using the metaphor of seasons to describe the phases of women’s lives,

-what are the particular challenges and highlights of your current season? A challenge in this season is accepting that it takes time to regain structure after a change. In our recent move, I had hoped that all would fall into place and that things would calm down. I guess they have in some ways. I do have a much clearer idea of how I want to live out the rest of my life, what I want for my family, and how I want to spend my time.

-What season(s) preceded this one? Before my current season, I had seven years of hibernation and feeling lost. I built a cocoon around myself and let things happen without being fully engaged (marriage, giving birth, moving across the country, getting divorced, finally finishing school, finding my love, and moving again). I am just now realizing that I was probably dealing with depression while living my life at warp speed. I never felt like I had a grip on things. But, life has finally slowed down (or I am getting used to warp speed), and things are much clearer. I wouldn’t change how my life has panned out; I’ve learned a lot and still keep discovering parts of myself. Where I am currently in my life feels perfect! I feel like I finally have a handle on everything!

-What season(s) might your future hold? Full fledged spring: a time of growth, renewal, a new spring in my step, and shedding skins.

Favorite family activity/activities: Friday night is pizza-and-a-movie night. I make enough pizza dough for about 4 pizzas. Some nights, friends will come over, and other nights it’s just the family. I really love that we have made a family tradition into it and that it is an open invitation for our extended family to take part. Wednesdays are breakfast-for-dinner nights. I love those nights, also. 

favorite solo activities: imagining, creating, reading, taking in the sunshine, gardening, and being quiet

sources of inspiration: My grandparents. My grandfather was a doctor, but never let go of his creative, artistic side. He currently has a wood workshop, and he had a metal workshop and a darkroom for many years. My grandmother has a painting studio.  My grandfather loves digital photography and Photoshop, and neither of them has ever put down the paintbrush! My biggest issue with figuring out what I want to be when I grow up is finding that balance of left and right brain activities. My grandparents are the epitome of that balance.

Wally is also an inspiration to me. I would not be the person I am today with him.

Jeff keeps me grounded. I have an enormous amount of friends and family who offer 100% support to every, single idea that I have. Jeff offers that same support but he knows me well enough to know when one idea probably isn’t the best (law school, for example). 

My mom was a pioneer makeshift mom. Some of her makeshifting may not have been the best ideas (see below). She never seemed to be worried about the latest trends in parenting.

best MakeShift moment: I’ll tell you my worst! When I was in kindergarten, my mother would send me to school with a bottle in my lunch box. My brother was bottle feeding, and I guess my mom didn’t have any drink containers for me. I would get made fun of by the sixth graders! I called my mom everyday saying I had a tummy ache. Lesson learned: Don’t send elementary-aged children to school with bottles!

If I am making dinner and Wally is bored, I’ll give him a bowl of water with food coloring and expired herbs, he’ll spend hours making potions and spells.

I do most of my school reading on the toilet, while Wally is in the bathtub. When he was younger, he never had a real crib (just a pack and play), or his own room, or a chest of drawers. He lived in the living room and his clothes were in a little nook on the bookshelf. We also didn’t have a chimney, so for Wally’s first Christmas, I drew and cut out a chimney and hung up stockings on the faux fireplace.

[if you know someone who would make a good “mothers of invention” feature, check out the nomination process detailed on the sidebar pages to the right.]

do you have nature deficit disorder? i have looked up this dreadful illness in the diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders, fourth edition (DSMIV), and here are the symptoms:

• the day’s time outside consists of the short walk from the house to the car
• your three-year-old considers opening the car windows to be a satisfactory allotment of “fwesh air.”
• you kiddos get winded just watching the claymation dancers on pbs’ “superwhy.”
• your city was uncharacteristically cold this winter for an ungodly amount of time, and all anyone in your family wanted to do was huddle together under blankets by the fire.
• the only sunscreen your house is circa 1986, and it’s spf 4.

here i go again, diagnosing myself and my family with DSMIV disorders, even those with symptoms that i made up myself. but in a recent new york times article called playtime is over, david elkind lamented that our children are more comfortable with technology than they are with nature, and more familiar with global security threats than they are with the ecosystems playing out in their own backyards. and as for the term nature deficit disorder, that’s the language of  dr. cheryl charles, president and ceo of the children and nature network, which has challenged parents to offer alternatives to nature-deficit disorder during the month of april. 

lisa, who blogs at 5 orange potatoes, has organized “the great outdoor challenge,” wherein 120 parents (so far) have committed to schlepping their kids outside every day for the month of april, rain or shine. yours truly has just become parent number 121, and the monkey and the bird are in for a real treat! along with the time outside, parents are encouraged to take and post pictures of all their outdoor glory. we’re in. lisa’s got some great info on her website about things to do with dandelions, fabric dying, and other outdoor activities.

now, apart from compulsively checking my blog for updates, a neurosis that i hope you will adopt, don’t you want to walk away from your computer and out into the great wide open?

[as you can see from this month’s pictures, though we’re late to the official outdoor challenge game, we’ve been unknowingly living up to its stipulations.]

i’ve been doing a little internet shopping for a stunt double for the bird’s “goggy.” the problem is, i’m having trouble accurately comparing our goggy, who has aged rather prematurely, with the shiny new versions sold in stores. what do you think…am i on the right track?

what’s that, you ask? what precipitated this urgent need to have an extra goggy on hand?

my husband went running today with the bird in the jog stroller. at mile three, he realized that goggy had jumped ship. in half the time it took to cover the three miles the first time, their little entourage backtracked and found goggy a mile from home, on the side of the road, and face down in some grass. from the look of crazed panic on my husband’s face after the run, i knew that it was time to line up an understudy.

motherhood, like every enduring institution, has its catch phrases. currently, most of these phrases seem to pertain to the enterprise of juggling. real life conversations among moms rarely occur without references to “juggling it all,” “keeping all the balls in the air,” “dropping the ball, ” and my personal favorite,”running off and joining the circus.” wouldn’t it be fun to mingle with a group of women and take a tasty sip of your beverage every time someone described her life as the ongoing exercise of hurling people, commitments, expectations, and roles into the ever-loving sky?

but i must concede that the juggling metaphor is a good one. it encapsulates so much about motherhood: the overcommitment, the multi-tasking, the sense that part of it is an act (and one crazy enough to be circus-worthy), and the inherent and inevitable moments of failure.

here are two women’s descriptions of juggling. the first is by ayelet waldman, author of bad mother and harvard law classmate of barack obama:

“i know that someday my daughters will chart their own courses, they’ll make their own mistakes. they in their turn will have to figure out how to keep all those balls in the air, how to maneuver despite inevitable frustration and failure. but just as i burden my daughters with my expectations, i also try to remind them that jugglers invariably drop balls, and no matter the persistent criticism of the Bad Mother police, balls do bounce. whey they fall, all you need to do is pick them up and throw them back up on the air” (41).

and the second meditation on juggling comes to us with a dose of humor by way of the fabulous tina fey, in last night’s saturday night live monologue.

now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m headed off to join the circus.

[source for this post can be found on the bibliography page, located on the sidebar to your right. the image in this post is from http://www.horizonstructures.com/]