Finding balance

The last two days have been very different.

Yesterday I was exhausted. I only slept about 3 hours (combination of a might-be-dying cat, a neighbor mowing his lawn at 6 am, and a little boy with nightmares). The day seemed hard before it even began. I got through the morning--I watched a friend's 3 kids as she was preparing to go on vacation with a new baby. I scrubbed a few floors and supervised kids vacuuming and folding laundry. I helped the girls with some new piano pieces and did my Thursday rest-day-from-running yoga routine. We read a million stories. We ate lunch and everyone pitched in to clean the kitchen. And then I pretty much collapsed. I was so tired. It seemed like every part of my body hurt. I cried six times at different ridiculous things (like Nathan scribbling on the kitchen floor with a crayon, which Isaac then cleaned up when he saw me melt into tears). We had takeout pizza for dinner and I felt like the worst mom in the world condemning my children to a terribly boring summer where all I wanted was for everyone to be asleep so that I didn't have to do anything.

Last night I got enough sleep. I woke up feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the day. Everyone did all their weekend cleaning jobs until the house sparkled. We went to the library, then met up with friends at a local gym for free play/open gym time. We came home, ate lunch, and I read piles and piles of books to the little boys. I ran 8 very speedy miles, then packed up the kids and went to a carnival hosted by our church congregation. We went to two different grocery stores on the way home. We ate a bedtime snack, cleaned up, had a brief bedtime phone call with Neil, and then I tucked everyone into bed and went off to do midterm grades.

Today I felt like a good mother.

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I remember that when I very first started parenting that I felt like there was this invisible ledger that I kept in my head with credit and debit columns for Good Mother and Bad Mother. Things like waking up before the kids, reading stories and going to the playground went on the Good Mother side. Things like letting them watch movies, sleeping in too late, and working while the kids are awake went on the Bad Mother side. I wish I could say that I've moved past this ledger, but I haven't. Every day with every action I'm actively ranking myself as to where I stand--yelling at that child is a mark on the debit side, explaining how wind moves over the wings of a plane to give it lift is a credit in the other column.

This summer has been hard because I'm exhausted all the time and I'm usually in pain. This pregnancy has been much better than my last three, but it's still pregnancy with all of its accompanying miseries, and I'm older and my body has done this five times already. I'm still trying to run my 30 miles every week because I know the downturn my mental health takes with each mile subtracted from my weekly total. I'm teaching this summer for the first time since 2007 when I was pregnant with Juliet and had only Abigail. And Nathan has given up his nap!

For years and years I have sat down a month before the children were out of school and mapped out every single day of the summer--what adventures we would go on, what topics we would study. I haven't done that this year, and it's been a huge source of stress. I've tried to tell myself over and over that it's okay, that my kids love the slow-paced days full of Legos and baking and endless popsicles and afternoons at the pool--and they do!!--but I still struggle so much with the guilt of not being perpetually present, engaging, upbeat, and energetic. And at the same time, I know that I simply don't have it in me right now to parent the way I have in past summers.

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On the 4th of July I ran 7 miles, prepared a gigantic BBQ spread for my family, gave both of the girls piano lessons, graded an entire class's worth of midterm projects, read to the boys for an hour, cleaned my house, and spent hours lighting & watching fireworks with the children. I can't remember the last time that I was that tired.

The children were radiant. It was, they told me, the best day of their lives.

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I read this article earlier this week. Then I read it again, and then again and then a fourth time. Then I read parts of it out loud to Neil. I didn't want to post it on my Facebook wall because it felt so raw and real to me, and I didn't know how to unpack everything that it meant to me into just a few sentences. I have thought about this part over and over and over:

"I have tried to say it to my husband; I have tried to say, “I hate my life.” I have tried to say, “I need help.” I have tried to explain why I am finding being a mother so difficult, but in the face of his questions, my explanations collapse. It isn’t exactly that spending time with the children is so horrible. I mean, sometimes it is, sometimes we have a bad day, but most of the time it is relatively pleasant: we go to the store, we go to the park, everyone is well behaved, the three-year-old says something cute, the baby does something new. The problem is not in what I am doing. The problem is in what I am not doing, which is writing every day, but which is also leading a life of the mind."

Sometimes I think a lot about what my life would be like if I had made different choices. I've thought a lot about that the past two years. I don't feel like I have much control over my life these days; I'm primarily reacting to other people's decisions and actions and the situations in which they place me. That's not a place that I'm comfortable living in. It's very difficult for me to not be the master of my fate/captain of my soul. I don't like feeling powerless.

But when I think about an alternative life, I don't know that it would necessarily bring me more joy either. I have several friends who have made very, very, very drastic life changes lately--the kind of changes I've thought about. I don't envy them their new freedoms when I see what those choices actually look like; instead, I feel overwhelmingly grateful for my current life.

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I ran into a friend today. We exchanged pleasantries and I asked how her summer was going. She told me how fit I looked and expressed her admiration for all of the things I do.

"I spent most of the day crying in bed yesterday, " I told her.

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I had a long talk this week with another friend whose husband is very ill. They just celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. She told me countless stories about their life together and the children that they've raised.

"My former coworkers were so surprised years later when they saw me pregnant with my sixth," she confided to me. "They all told me they never thought I'd have any children because I loved my job so much and I was so good at it. But I knew that being a mother was best. And that's what I told them. And that's what I see in you--I've watched you grow up as a mother and a woman from the day I first saw you with that tiny little blond baby and you've grown more beautiful every year and with every child."

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Some nights I fall asleep reading.

Some nights I lie awake worrying for hours. Hours and hours and hours until I finally get up at 3 am and walk around my house and obsessively check the locks on all the doors like I've done for years. I worry about whether Neil will ever graduate. I worry about whether this baby's birth will send me into another depressive spiral. I worry about whether I'm too old to ever meet my athletic goals--will I be able to qualify for Boston? Run a 100-mile race? Has my body taken too much of a beating from years of pregnancy, breastfeeding, and toting around heavy toddlers on my hip, shortening my obliques, damaging my knee, leaching calcium from my bones? Should I sign up for the evening oil painting class Neil's been encouraging me to take, or is that selfish to take precious hours away from his research? Where will we be next year? Am I truly giving the best that I can to my children and my marriage? Why did I give away all my baby clothes?

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I don't know how to end this post. I don't have any wonderful answers or relevations or tie-it-up-nicely anecdotes. What I can tell you is that my children are asleep, my husband is at work, I haven't eaten dinner yet, and it's time to do my grading.

random bits

I really like knitting. It's very soothing (now that I think I've finally got the hang of it). This morning I ripped out the last 45 rows of practice knitting and cast on and started on a "real project." I'm finally good enough at it that I don't have to stare down, so today I tried knitting while I read the third batch of stories to the kids. Hurray!

I think I'm getting Neil's cold. I started feeling a little weird after the third mile this morning so I ended my run early and had a little session with my neti pot.

I like teaching online. I respond to emails right away, but other than that I just spend an hour or two every couple of days commenting on everyone's posts and giving constructive criticism. It was a LOT of work to set everything up, but it's really quite peaceful now (want to read my take on writing an awesome cover letter?). I miss the face-to-face interaction with the students and the boundless energy I get from teaching, but let's be honest--it's REALLY nice not to have to walk to the bus stop at 6:45 am through the snow.

Does anyone have a good pad Thai recipe? I made some last night but I wasn't thrilled with it, although everyone else was. It was a little too spring-y and the sauce didn't have enough depth. Mostly it showcased the bean sprouts that Abigail has been growing in a jar for a week now. It made her really enthusiastic about eating dinner yesterday! This is a great kid project--I have a actual sprouter thingy that I use for alfalfa, but for the longer bean sprouts we just use a quart jar with a piece of nylon mesh cut to fit the mouth of the jar.

I am feeling very project-hungry lately. Things I want to do: build a new bookcase for the girls' room. Make a clock out of a gorgeous old plate. Cast a "stone" tabletop like the one in the March issue of Martha Stewart Living. Paint my bedroom. Paint the laundry room. Build a console table.

In addition to projects, I also need to start a list of children's books I want to add to our library. Lately I'm really into books like The Ox-Cart Man or The Year at Maple Hill Farm that talk about how the world changes with the seasons and what different things go on at different times of the year. (Plus I really like that little perspective on self-reliance.) Abigail is at the age now where she is soaking up information like a little sponge, so I've really been trying to look for books that are kind of teaching along with the story, if that makes sense. And books with good illustrations like the Brambly Hedge series, or Hilary Knight's The Twelve Days of Christmas. I love love love the intricacy of those pictures! Like I was saying...I need to start a list. A lot of times I feel like we check out absolute gems from the library, but I never can remember the titles later...

It's cold today. Perfect for curling up with my seed catalogs in front of the fire on the sheepskin. And knitting. :-) Does that sound a little too pioneer-ish?

Now that I'm thinking about it, what are your favorite children's books? Our kids love love love love books so much (as I type this Abigail is lying on the floor surrounded by a huge pile) that I'm always on the hunt for new favorites.

an old essay I found on my computer while cleaning out files

verbatim, no edits. I think I wrote this when Abigail was about five months old. If I recall correctly, it was in response to a contest prompt about your experience being "a Mormon and ______ (fill in profession here)."

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I found the flier advertising this contest in my in-box. As I walked to class, I mulled the question over in my mind—a Mormon and…what? A Shakespeare? A scientist? A feminist? I considered a lot of things, but what finally stuck in my mind was the question I came up with putting my daughter to bed after hours of class, grading, thesis revisions, and housecleaning—how can you be a Mormon and a guilt-free mother?

At first, I argued with myself that this didn’t fit the limitations of the prompt. After all, wasn’t it about being a “Mormon professional?” Yet on the other hand, what is more inherent to the idea of a “Mormon professional” than being a mother, something which our religion actually views with the same degree of respect as that reserved by other denominations for practitioners of a more conventional full-time job. And there are few ideas that are more problematic and relevant for Mormon women than the idea of being a woman free from guilt—from uncompleted tasks, from a nagging fear of imperfection, from warring desires to build a career and to build a home.

As a wife, mother, student, and graduate instructor, I am constantly besieged. On the one hand, I feel that my place is at home playing with my daughter. On the other, my place is in the classroom teaching so that we can stay out of debt. Or perhaps it’s studying at my desk so that I can pass my defense examinations so I can achieve as much education as possible. No matter what I choose, I am ridden with guilt. If I study, then I am removing my daughter from my lap and placing her on the floor. If I play with her, I am using my theory textbooks to build bridges rather than taking careful notes. And no matter what I do, I still feel the responsibility to have a clean home, well-balanced meals, and meaningful dates with my husband.

As a Mormon woman, I focus constantly on my own inadequacies, afraid that anything else is a sign of pride and lack of humility. Consequently, I am unable to accept that I have completed something, that I have achieved success or perfection in some area of my life. This is a problem that I have seen in myself, in my colleagues, and in my students. We are chronically unable to take pride in ourselves and in our accomplishments. If we settle down to relax, an insidious voice tells us that there is something better–something more useful–that we could be doing.

The new Graduate Student Association T-shirts announce that graduate students have “come to accept guilt as an inherent feature of relaxation.” I laughed at this at first—then I was angry. Why is this something which we have accepted as truth? Why is it acceptable for us to berate ourselves over failing to complete the 101^st activity, rather than focusing on the perfection of the 100?

Rather than asking how we can be Mormon women who are guilt-free, we need to simply accept that it is possible. The paradox is that between the need for humility and acceptance of the fact that while we can’t reach it in mortality, we should certainly strive for perfection, we try so hard that we lose the journey in pursuit of the (inachievable) goal. At some point, we simply have to acknowledge that we are doing the most (and the best) that we can, toss the books to the floor, put the baby down for a nap, and enjoy the ride.

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your thoughts? Is this a paradox you've encountered? What do you think about this issue?

some thoughts

with one smack from the bathtub, Juliet draws nearer to her dream of becoming a unicorn

Monday nights are sometimes hard for me. Our church has asked that Monday evenings be reserved for Family Home Evening; every semester Neil has had mandatory-you-cannot-miss-and-still-have-a-job meetings that fall right smack between dinnertime and bedtime. Every single Monday. Result: Daddy gets home when everyone is in bed. Sometimes before midnight.

Some nights I am totally worn out and we have pancakes for dinner and everyone goes to bed early.

Some nights (like tonight) we have rosemary rolls, split-pea soup (which the kids love), and we go to the library. Or do something fun all together.

I try for the second option. It doesn't always happen, but I try. It makes me feel a little less guilty about postponing family home evening to another night.

Tonight was interesting. Maybe in an effort to make up for the spiritual lesson that all her little friends all over the world were getting, Abigail kept bringing up new topics of conversation and we ended up talking all the way to the library about the following:

• how everyone is a child of God
• how Heavenly Father is the father of our spirit
• the war in heaven
• the plan of salvation
• the Creation
• promptings of the Holy Ghost
  

I was thinking during this conversation about a lesson we'd had in Relief Society a few weeks back about taking the opportunity to bear our testimonies to our children. And thinking about Ann Crittenden's The Price of Motherhood, which I was reading this afternoon, and how grateful I am that--even though motherhood is praised with the lips but not with economic rewards--I can have the time with my children to have conversations like this that just happen casually without any effort on my part (btw, you really should read that book).

So while I was thinking about these things, we were in the library, and while I was catching up with the children's librarian, who we hadn't chatted with in awhile, she asked me if we had our new library card yet. I said no, and she said that all I needed was my old library card and my driver's license.

Confession: I leave my driver's license at home all the time (Mom, don't yell at me!)

I take it when I'm planning to spend money, but I often leave my wallet at home when, for instance, I'm going to the library and I don't want to have to keep track of my wallet AND the kids AND the books. Just one less thing to worry about.

But this evening as I was loading the kids into the car, I thought Get your wallet.

And I thought back, No way. I'll lose it.

And again that little voice said, Go get your wallet.

And I thought, Why? Am I going to get pulled over? I will drive very slowly.

And again, Rachael, go get your wallet.

So I went back into the house and I got my wallet. And I had it with me so that I could get my new library card, and so that we could check out the enormous stack of books the kids picked out, instead of having to go home bookless.

I told the kids about this on the way home. We talked about recognizing promptings and listening to your thoughts and how the Holy Ghost can help us to make good choices even in small things.

It turned out to be a pretty good family home evening after all. And I'm just really thankful for things like this.

That's all.

2009 Thankful Lists

This past month, we kept a record of "thankfuls." At breakfast, we would write down something we were thankful for and add that strip of paper to a chain. We didn't do it every day, but we did it enough that I want a record of our thankful things. Neil wasn't there about half the time, which is why his list is shorter.

We didn't prompt the kids at all, so this is the unvarnished first-thing-out-of-their mouths. Same for us--the theory was that you weren't supposed to spend a long time thinking about it, just say whatever came to mind first. We also encouraged the kids to think of new things every day, although there were some repeats (you can probably tell we eat a lot of steel-cut oats with blueberries).

Juliet:

• Blueberries
• Grapes
• Milk
• Toys
• Papa (my dad)
• Cottage cheese
• Colors
• Blankie
• Couch
• Mommy and Daddy
• Gus Gus toy
• Toilet paper
• Abigail
• Isaac
• blueberries (again!)
• Hippo Hippo
• Bears
• Abigail (again)
• Paper
• Muffins
• Grandma
• Milk
• Dollies
• temple

Abigail:

• Blankie
• Yoga
• Barbies
• the color pink
• Vivaldi
• Scriptures
• Juice
• The Magic Flute
• Isaac and Juliet
• Mommy and Daddy
• Flowers
• Neighbors
• Great houses
• Vitamins
• Families
• Food
• Yoga (again)
• the garden
• Barbies (again)
• Pumpkins
• Juliet
• Bibs (for Juliet?)
• Costumes
• Mommy and Daddy (again)
• Vivaldi (again)
• Sister Son (her Sunbeam teacher)

Rachael:

• Clean water
• Exercise
• Pacifiers
• Music
• Mail
• the treadmill
• Flush toilets
• Refrigerator
• Colored bowls
• Good olive oil
• Scissors
• Rain
• Our car(s)
• Julia Child
• Vacuum
• Autumn leaves
• Steel-cut oats
• Temples
• Opportunity
• Pillow-top mattresses

Neil

• Research breakthroughs
• Feta cheese
• the gospel
• Blueberries
• Safety
• Forever families
• Free zoos
• Sheepskin slippers
• Food
• Families
• Spiced cider
• Fast computers
• Movies
• Sweet rolls
• Programming languages
• Baby giggles
• Finished lumber

And as a family, we are grateful for the restored gospel, the plan of salvation, a living prophet, the Book of Mormon, and our savior Jesus Christ.

another day

elise, this picture has nothing to do with the post, but I know how much you love pictures, so this is for you.

Today I took Isaac to the pediatrician for his four-month checkup and shots, took Jules and Isaac to the library, read stories separately to Juliet and Abigail to ensure they each had some "mommy time," watched a friend's children for 2 hours, did regular laundry and washed the diapers, did an hour and a half of instructional design work for a client, cooked the very time-consuming dinner that Abigail picked out for this evening, picked up a million toys, washed a lot of dishes, gave Isaac a bath and nursed him five times, and went for a 5-mile run after the kids were in bed.

For some reason, I still feel like it was a very unproductive day, because all I can see is what I didn't do: I didn't clean the 'fridge, dust the house, mop the kitchen floor, or organize everyone's toys/clothes (all of which are tasks that I normally do on Wednesday). I didn't find time to sit down on the floor and play with the kids. I didn't cuddle my poor little immunized baby as much as he would have liked.

I'm hoping to do better tomorrow. I've really been trying to prioritize lately and identify the 3 most important things that I absolutely have to do that day, but all too often it seems like the little things creep in and derail my plan. It's all well and good to say I will do XYZ today, but somehow I always forget how much time little insidous things--like unloading the dishwasher, taking Juliet to the bathroom a million times (I took away the toilet paper after she used an entire roll to wipe herself), kissing owies, and finding that one special toy--take out of the day and away from the big goals.

Ho hum. I'll figure it out someday. I guess as long as I keep moving in an upward direction that's something, right?

some free time

I have a couple of free hours today that I'd earmarked for work on finalizing a storyboard, but I still haven't gotten the needed materials back from the client, so I'm off the hook.

My house is strangely quiet. The girls are at a playdate and Isaac is napping. It's just me and my raisins & almonds sitting here at the computer with a big glass of water.

It's nice to have a few quiet hours. Today has been pretty calm (went for a run, read stories to Jules, picked up Abigail from preschool, came home and ate lunch, did some cleaning while the girls played with Play-Doh, did crafts with and read stories to Abigail while Juliet napped, etc.) After we dropped off the girls, Isaac and I went for a walk and I talked to him until he fell asleep, probably out of self-preservation. When we came home, I mixed up some bread and put some sweet potatoes in the oven for dinner (we'll add some peaches, edamame, and a big green salad to round things out). Then I spent half an hour looking up yoga sequences and putting together a routine that I can do in the mornings or evenings. After I get off the computer, I'm going to spend a few minutes reading through cookbooks looking for inspiration for next week's dinners. Let me just say this: I love not having anything to do and being able to do some of the "Gosh, wish I had time to..." things. Priceless.

Also, on a semi-related note, I really really really love yoga. A lot. Not as a workout that would replace running, but as a superb way to center myself and have some time of contemplation and connection with my body. As weird and New Age-y as that sounds, it's incredible (and after an hour and a half of yoga, corpse pose is like the best thing ever. Ever. Last night I was so relaxed I totally didn't know where I was when the instructor told us to start coming out of the pose). It's the perfect way to end crazy days and it always amazes me how something that can be fairly strenuous and taxing can be so soothing and relaxing at the same time.