Spinning Yellow

Me? Radical?

As the flight to San Francisco landed I heard a woman behind me talking about attending the BlogHer conference.  I thought I recognized someone in Newark before we took off, but I wasn't sure.  Going to BlogHer is like some kind of weird reunion where everyone looks familiar.  Did I meet this person last year?  Do I know them from a photo on their blog?  Or maybe I recognize them from real life and OMG now what do I do?  If I say hi will I be outing myself as a blogger?  Wait, I am at a blogging conference, obviously I am a blogger.  What the hell am I doing here anyway?

The decision to attend this year's BlogHer conference was very difficult to make.  Not that I am that great with decisions anyway, but I really stressed out about how much it cost to fly there, pay for the hotel and the conference fee.  Last year, I felt justified in being there because I had won the contest.  I also felt an obligation to WhyMommy to get the most out of it since she couldn't come.  This year, I initially didn't think it was going to work out.  Matt's Iron Man Lake Placid race was taking place on the same weekend.  But as the months wore on and it became clear that he wasn't going to race (too busy with work to train), I started harassing Matt hinting that I'd like to go to San Francisco.

Finally, Matt said I should go because it was what I really wanted and I could consider it my birthday gift.  I immediately felt so guilty I was sick to my stomach and couldn't sleep.  If I went, I'd feel extravagant.  As if I was wasting his hard earned money.  I don't contribute any money to our family income.  I am an inconsistent and not very good blogger anyway.  But I followed through, made my reservations.  I don't spend much money in general so I justified this big splurge as an adventure.  There was also a nagging feeling that if I didn't go, I'd be severely disappointed.  Missing out on one of those  life altering opportunities.

The first panel that I sat in on at the conference was MommyBlogging: Is MommyBlogging Still a Radical Act?  When I first saw that Mommy Blogging had its own track, I was excited to hear more about the issues that were touched upon in 2007.  I knew the regular, high profile, MommyBloggers would be there to chime in.  I generally agree with Her Bad Mother and Mom 101 and certainly enjoyed hearing them speak last year. 

As I listened to the discussion I wondered, well, what do I really think?  Is Mommy Blogging a radical act?  Last year I had expected the majority of bloggers to be Political Bloggers, but found out that a good percentage of attendees were actually writing about parenting.  This year the sponsors included Sprout and LeapFrog.  Mommy Bloggers had taken over.  How can the majority be radical?

When I hear people say that they never knew being a mom would be so hard.  That it would suck a lot of the time.  I shake my head.  Were they not listening?  Didn't they have any honest friends or relatives?  I knew plenty about the dark side of parenting by the time Scott was born.  But if new moms were really that clueless, or in denial, than I am glad they have the internet to inform them.

This "lifting the veil" of the ugly side of motherhood, does not seem radical to me.  There are books out there that expose how difficult it can be.

But I do think blogging itself is radical.  Regardless of the topic.  Because blogging is, in its purest form, about capturing the moment.  The immediacy.  About being able to find a post that speaks directly to you at the time you are experiencing something.  And about connecting with the author.  Sharing your story and offering support.  A place for anybody to write about anything.

Especially blogging for someone like me.  I am not a writer.  I have no training as such, having avoided all writing courses in the past, including typing.   But I had a story to tell.  I realized this forum was the perfect, really, only venue, where I could put myself out there and people could find me.

I quickly learned that I had just as much, if not more, to gain from reading what other people wrote.

I don't think of myself as a feminist.  I am a rules player.  I was a business major in college and have towed the line, followed the path through adulthood as expected.  I am not boring, just a regular person.  But I've always dreamed of being part of something more important.  Cutting edge.  A phenomenon that brings the regular people to the forefront.

I am still more comfortable remaining semi-anonymous here in the blogosphere.  I want to write honestly and not be constrained by knowing that people in my real life might read. 

As I was deplaning (a funny word I wanted to work in), I looked for the woman, Kristen.  She was meeting Nina, a real life friend met through blogging.   The BlogHer magic had already begun.  Here were people I didn't know at all that I felt an instant kinship with.  On the BART train we hooked up with the absolutely lovely Flutter.  At every turn there was another person, another meeting.  More on all the people in another post.

Blogging and going to BlogHer lets me mingle with other bloggers, each radical in their own way. 

I get to be the person I want to be.  The one who takes chances.

My own radical.

** If it would just stop thunderstorming here and I could get a decent night's sleep maybe I can write more about the amazing experience of BlogHer 2008.  I am still recovering from my flight back to Newark where I arrived home at 3am on Monday.

Travel Fun

I am already delayed.  Stuck in the Newark, NJ airport waiting for my plane to depart two hours later than scheduled.  I made my husband get up at 4:15am to get me here on time!  So sorry, honey. 

I received an e-mail this morning from my good friend, Barb, who lives in San Francisco, saying that she might not be able to get together today after all.  We had plans to meet up at the hotel and go out to dinner before the People's Party  (oh, shit, I just read that post and I think I was supposed to RSVP) this evening.  Now I will be arriving later and will probably be on my own for dinner.      

I didn't see the kids this morning, but I talked to them on the phone.  All is fine.  They have a lot planned.  Time with Grammy and probably their cousins.  Maybe a trip to the beach.  Scott has a birthday party to go to on Saturday.  They'll barely notice I'm gone.  Right?

I know it is good to get away.  That we all need to realize that we can do it.  If Scott's pjs aren't laid out or I'm not there to set Jane's bed up just so, it will be ok. 

I tried to leave everything in order and write down as much as I could.  Luckily, it is easy to reach me via phone and IM with Matt.  A much as I did do, I am sure I forgot something.  And I won't be there to hug and kiss everyone good night and good morning. 

Last year I wrote this post about what I would and wouldn't miss about being away.  I think I really needed the break then.  This time, I don't feel the same way.  I am enjoying my time with the kids.  I like going to the pool with them and reading Harry Potter to Scott.  Fixing up Jane's hair and giving her a starter push on the swing.  This summer has been full of fabulous moments already and it is barely half over.

And I worry about setting Scott back.  Causing him renewed anxiety as any change in routine seems to do.  But one of the things I am working on right now is pushing him a little.  Making him deal with these unexpected events.  Each one a chance to be more flexible, to realize that he is alright.  I've spent a lot of time avoiding this stuff so as not to cause him any additional problems.  But by doing that I am shielding him from the opportunity to learn how capable he truly is.

As I embark on this year's journey, I will keep that in mind for myself as well.  That stepping out of my comfort zone teaches me, too.  That sometimes you just have to take chances.

I Haven't Even Blogged About It Yet

In my frenzy to be laid-back and enjoy summer, I have, quite obviously, let my blog go.  I haven't been posting, among other things.  And now I am on my way to the big BlogHer 2008 conference.  Oh, I've thought about all the people I want to link to.  Those I met last year and those that I am so excited I will finally see this year.  I've read some posts, like those from last year, about how nervous people are about meeting people face-to-face.  That doesn't stress me out that much.  But I don't like to leave my family.  And I am embarrassed at how little I've been blogging lately.

And I will be among such talented and diligent bloggers.  I feel unworthy.  But I am going anyway, because this is my birthday gift, which I requested. 

A lot of bloggers take a little break while at the conference or find someone to blogsit.  For me, I might actually be able to write something.  Perhaps there will be new content here.  Perhaps.  If I am not too exhausted or don't have a splitting migraine from one drink and the time zone jet-lag situation.  I leave tomorrow very early - my husband is so excited to drive me to the airport at 5am!

More on my big adventure soon.  With links. 

Pinky swear.

The Summer That We Wanted. Yeah, We Finally Got It!

Guess what?  Our summer is going really well.  Really, really, well.  So well that I am almost afraid to admit it for fear of jinxing things.  I know!  I can't believe it either.  I've done so much complaining about summer in the past that I had pretty much resigned myself to another stress-filled 10 week roller coaster.  But, something has happened here.  A perfect mix of maturity and structure that is enabling us all to enjoy these long summer days.

The irony is that a ton of stuff has gone wrong, too.  We've had a bee sting, a badly skinned knee, kids not going to sleep, a late night trip to the ER for an asthma attack, and a renewed fear of fireworks, among many other things.  In fact, just yesterday, I spent an hour on the phone trying to fix a banking problem, then another hour deciphering why my new sensor wasn't connecting to my Nike + account and then, right after she fell asleep, Jane threw up.

All that and the normal summer annoyances, like kids who fight and no time to myself, complaints about what's for lunch and who gets to play at Grammy's, anxiety about new situations.  Sunscreen.  Bugs.  The list goes on and on.

But none of that matters because what we do have is a typical summer.  Kids who swim and play with other kids.  Who can entertain each other and themselves.  Enough of a routine to keep things sane and plenty of flexibility to have fun. 

It is as if the atmosphere in our house has changed dramatically.

For years now I have been frantic and anxious.  Wondering how to get through each day, worried about what new challenge would come up.  Take last summer for example, Scott wouldn't put his head back in the water and Jane wasn't potty trained.  I spent all summer stressing that he'd never make it through a full day of school in first grade and she'd never be able to start preschool still in diapers.

And all I'd hear from everyone around me was, "Aren't you glad to have time with your kids?  They will be grown up soon enough and you will miss them.  You should enjoy summer when you can relax."  Except summer never felt relaxing at all.  It was more about me trying to figure out how to get a break from the kids and how to get them to comply as it seemed they should.

The other day I was chatting with one of the moms at the playground next to the pool complex and I admitted that this summer is finally like I had always hoped it would be.  I was explaining how Scott is now, after three previous summers at this same place, going in to swim lessons on his own.  How Jane plays with other kids and barely even looks for me. 

As we talked, the mom confided that she understood all too well.  That her older, twin boys, had spent two years in an autistic support class.  That she knew what I meant when I explained how I had felt self-conscious.  Like all the other moms were wondering either what was wrong with my kid or why I was such an awful parent.

But time and understanding has not only changed the way I look at Scott but it has also allowed me to see myself more accurately.  Just like everyone else.  Doing the best I can.  And because of that, I can now feel comfortable.  I realize that we do fit in.  That summer can be for us, too!

My book group just finished reading Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult.  While it certainly wasn't the best book I've read, I did relate to several of the characters.  In particular I was drawn to the idea that these children of mine, the ones who hug me and tell me they love me 20 times a day, will soon be off in their own worlds.  They will be much more interested and influenced by their peers and will no longer want me to hang out with them.  While I know this is the natural order of things, it pains me to the core.  Suddenly the idea that I am so lucky to have this time with them, to enjoy our summer with lots of free time, becomes crystal clear. 

Perhaps I needed Scott to be in full day school last year to truly appreciate the summer.  As I had suspected, I missed him.  And possibly I also needed to grow up a bit myself, too.  To see that even though racing for certain goals has merit, there are also times when not having high expectations, to just going with the flow, is equally valuable.  Last year I vowed to embrace summer, but I couldn't force myself to do it.  This year it is happening all on its own.

There are reminders everywhere that I should have a tiny baby to care for in addition to these two children of mine.  That this summer was also supposed to be about welcoming a new member to our family.  My heart hurts when I see sweet newborn babies.  But then I refocus and look at my kids.  The ones that are sporting tans and sun-bleached hair.  Who are begging me to play with them. 

And I feel fortunate once again. 

To be their mother. 

To have this time. 

To create these memories for them and for myself.

Four Oh My

I am officially 40 years old today.  No longer thirty something.  Not in the 35 - 39 demographic.  I have to scroll down quite a ways to get to my birth year, 1968. 

Turning 39 felt liberating.  Time to take on the world!  Do things I've never done!  No time to waste!

It has been a long year.

I feel tired.  More realistic and less idealistic than a year ago.

I've enjoyed getting older.  I like the wisdom.  The earned self-confidence.  The insight.

Something else, too, a sense of calm.  A softening. 

Am I realizing that it isn't worth it to battle or am I giving up?  Is it both?

I've always felt strongly that people can be anything they want to be.  That it is never too late to pursue goals or chase a dream.  I still feel that way.

But it is tempered.  I will never be an Olympic athlete.  I probably won't be rich.  But I may still get another degree, start a business, be on Oprah.

I have a picture of my mom at 40 from a newspaper article.  It was a story about me and my trip to Egypt.  My mother looks so young and pretty.  At the time, I just thought of her as my mom, not as a woman I may grow up to resemble.  Did she feel old then?  It was the thick of her parenting days with me finishing elementary school and my brother heading off to college (and my sister still in between).

My life is 10 years behind hers at that point and yet I am the same age.  My oldest at 7, still younger than her youngest, me, at 11.  It would be several years later before she went back to work and then started her own school, her life's work, really, aside from being a mom and a grandmother.

I think I still have my life's work ahead of me, too.

Not to say that I am unhappy or dissatisfied with where I am.  I look around in amazement sometimes hearing the Talking Head's song, This is not my beautiful house, This is not my beautiful wife, How did I get here? I don't have any issue with not feeling like a grown-up, but I do wonder if I've been doing it right so far.  Am I missing something?  Living life fully?  Doing what matters?

I find myself pulling back lately.  Instead of wanting to accomplish all kinds of things, I stop and live more in the moment.  A new concept for me, really.  I think I am appreciating what I have instead of pushing ahead looking for what I don't have yet.

Maybe this is all there will ever be.  Same as it ever was. 

I won't stop pursuing new challenges, learning, expanding.  But if I'm never a size 6 again or I don't have any more kids, if I never have a perfect home or save the world, I will still be quite happy with my very full life as it is.

At 40 years old, I am good with that.

Except the Oprah part.  I'm not giving up that one.

And the Star-Dazzle Award Goes to ....

*** Fair warning that there is going to be some serious mommy bragging in this post.

I might have been complaining in my last post about the monotony of raising kids, but truth be told, I love being a mom.  And more specifically, I love being a mom of two kids.  These two kids.  Two very different children.  They can be quite frustrating and they both have their individual issues.  Well, Scott much more so than Jane, but she's been having some tantrums (and will not, for the love of God, go to sleep tonight) and being a girl does present some inherent challenges.

So, while I have been somewhat discontented lately, this past weekend was really what all parents look forward to.  The good stuff.  The things that our parents think of when they say, "when you kids were young was the best time of our lives."  The things that we look back on as kids and feel proud of.  The stuff of happy memories.

I should now turn the award ceremony over to someone else, not their mom, who might be able to be a little more objective, but it is my blog, so you get my proud momma version:

The Tiny Dancer

First up for her Star-Dazzle award is Jane.  Jane performed in her first dance recital this weekend.  She went to dance lessons all year for this and mom and dad forked over huge amounts of money.  Delilah covered it well in her post yesterday.

I was a bit concerned about the recital after Jane turned into a diva-in-training before the rehearsal, demanding that her hair be done a certain way and that she wear her favorite bright purple, shimmering lipstick.  But she was all business (show business that is) for the recital.  She was prepared and she ate it up like any small girl who gets to dress-up in a tutu should.  She even donned her purple, polka dot sunglasses while strutting into the building as if she was entering her dressing room; posing for photos and asking for her make-up to be reapplied.

As I dropped her off in the cafeteria, which was the holding room for all the performers, she smiled brightly and blew me a kiss.  "Have fun, sweetie!"  "I will mom!" 

My mind raced:  Is she nervous?  Will she cry?  Be overwhelmed?  Pee her pants?  Isn't this developmentally inappropriate to ask a just turned 4 year old child to get up on a high school auditorium stage in front of a packed audience?

But I forgot all of that as the curtain opened and group after group of girls, from 3 year olds all the way up to high school age, danced their numbers.  Many of the children I knew.  And I really started to cry when I saw Kate, clearly enjoying herself doing her routine just like the other girls, as happy as can be.

These kids were super stars!  What a great chance to have the memory of performing in front of an audience.  And Jane?  She was simply perfect.  As cute as a button, following along, twirling in her elaborate get-up.  Smiling, waving and blowing kisses to her fans.  I wanted to run right up on stage with her and hug her to pieces.

I'll be signing her up for next year, when she gets to wear tap shoes and make a lot of noise.  I can't wait.

The All Star Player

Second up, to share the award, is her brother, Scott.  Scott is finishing up his baseball season which completes his second rotation of soccer/basketball/baseball playing team sports.  Even though Scott takes these games very seriously, the idea is to get the children's feet wet in the world of sports.  Basketball this year was the first time that an official score was kept although the coaches still played down winning or losing trying to get the kids to learn how to play and have fun.

But for Scott it is about winning.  And this has been an issue as far as these junior leagues are concerned.  When the basketball league decided to have an all star game, Scott was sure he'd be selected to play, but he wasn't.  Not because he wasn't one of the better players but because it was his first year in the league and the coaches decided to have the older kids participate.

This made Scott's head explode.  The injustice!  Why should he bother to play?  When would he ever be recognized for his talent?

Well, the time has come because he was just offered a spot on the All Star baseball team!  And he gets to play with some of his best buddies from class.  His group.  The ones that he is now asking for play dates with.  My boy!  Is finding his group.  I might start crying again.

Scott has really struggled this spring with anxiety and OCD.  He can be volatile and downright sullen.  But this world of sports?  It is his thing.  His place.  He needs it and he deserves it.

There will be "scouts" there for the 8 year old travel team which he could be invited to play on next spring.  A real, competitive, every game matters type of opportunity.  I know many people think that that is not appropriate for his age.  But I defy them to see him in action and question whose motive it is to play.  He wants this and has been waiting. 

Is it any different than having your little girl perform in a recital?

Scott is the youngest member of his team and he is going to represent them in an All Star game.  He is thrilled.

Rising to the occasion

Scott was not happy about having to attend Jane's recital, but we felt that he should support his sister.  Earlier in the day as he was teasing her, I scolded him saying, "this is her one day, don't ruin it for her."  So, of course, he had to pout and be mad at me.  Matt and I exchanged glances thinking he better not make this moment about him.  It is always about him.  Typical first child.

But he sat through the whole recital without any complaints.  And when it was all over and Jane came off the stage she was so happy to see him there.  He gave her a big hug and congratulated her on her performance.   "Thanks, brother!" she beamed.

Can you see my heart bursting?

For a closing note, your proud momma MC would like to also share this little story:

Matt came home from work late today and was going to mow the lawn.  I had already planned to have dinner at my mom's and the kids were not expecting to see their dad until after they got home.  But he surprised them by coming over as they were eating.

Matt brought over his and Scott's baseball gloves and, in a teasing tone, asked Scott, "Now that you are a big shot All Star player, do you still have time to have a catch with your dad?"

Scott smiled and responded, "I'll always have time for you, Daddy.  Always."

That moment. 

These moments. 

The good stuff.

Let's Do the Time Warp Again

Lately I feel like my life is flying by at lightning speed.  2008 is practically half way done.  I am about to turn 40.  These children of mine are 7 and 4. 

I am in a tunnel with images whizzing by:

Me, in the house I bought on my own 10 years ago.
Scott as a baby, looking out the window.
Jane taking her first boat ride at the tender age of 4 months old.
Me, in my car, the one I bought back when I lived in DC, on my way home from NY with my teeny-tiny puppy.
Scott trying to ride a bike, arguing with Matt when he was 4.
Jane desperately trying to suck her thumb after she broke her wrist.
Me, as a child, playing with my neighbor.
Me, in high school, college, my first job out of school.
Me, traveling with my friend in Europe.
Me, with an old boyfriend.
Matt and I on our honeymoon.

I see backward and forward.  Snap shots captured in time.  A million small moments.  A lifetime already.  And yet I know I have so much more of my life to live.  Time is moving so quickly.  This must be what old people feel.  This sense of having experienced so much.  Of the treadmill gaining speed and you can barely hang on.  The years flying by.  Christmas then Summer in the blink of an eye.

And yet.

There is a certain Ground Hog Day quality to my life.  Here I am doing the laundry again.  Fixing up the morning medicines.  Putting out the toothbrushes.  Oh, Jane peed on the floor again?  Oh, Scott is complaining that his stomach hurts?  Matt shaking his head, we need to organizing things around here.  Another baseball game.  Another birthday party.

Yawn.

How is it possible to simultaneously feel like my life is speeding by and also be so bored by much of the day to day?

This time warp of days crawling by with dulling monotony and years piling up so fast I can't keep them straight?

Even as I write this, it sounds absurd.  My life is far from boring.  In fact, I often think that I need to figure out a way to make things slow down, to simplify, to, well, make things less chaotic.  Yet, even the unexpected has become predictable.  Am I just getting older and nothing surprises me anymore?  Is it that I need to shake things up a bit, break out of my routines?

I do know this:  The saying, "The days go by slowly but the years go by fast" has never felt more relevant than right now.

It's May. Why Is It Still Raining?

The tulips have already bloomed.  The birthdays have been over for weeks.  There was Mother's Day.  Baseball games.  School is winding down.

But it sure doesn't feel like May.  It is colder and rainier here than it was in March.  Not only am I having trouble getting into my blogging groove, but my running is suffering, too.  Usually it is hot by now.  My kids are still wearing fleece pajamas.  I don't even know where my shorts are.

This fall was hot until November and now?  Spring hasn't even gotten started.

The pool opens in a few days.

I still feel super busy, no letting up of activities and obligations, either.  Today I go on Scott's field trip.  At least it is to see a show and not to a farm.  Tomorrow is Jane's last day of her first year of preschool.  I am crying already.

I am really looking forward to summer.  And that is really saying something.