Storytelling as Bribery

Elliott has been waking really early.  REALLY early.  I'm not even sure of the exact time because he gets up and is quiet as he plays in the water in the bathroom and dismantles his play room.  Repeated encouragement instruction of staying in bed until Mommy or Daddy come to get him have fallen on deaf ears.  He's distractable.  He forgets, you know, in the intervening 10 hours. 

Genius has struck on our interminable drive home in the afternoons (45ish minutes at the witching hour) through story telling.  I scrambled for entertainment yesterday in the form of  "The Three Little Pigs" and "The Three Bears."  Hit!  We even briefly made a Once-Upon-a-Time about three kids, Elliott, Brooklyn and Kellen, but I was tired and frazzled so the story was the most boring of all time, with no problem or climax. 

Today I was on my game.  When Elliott asked for a story about those three little kids in a Once-Upon-a-Time fashion, I was ready.  By ready I mean, I prepared for 10 seconds before I launched into the story.  And that story was all about how Kellen wakes up in the night (wah! wah! wah!), Elliott turns on his light after bed  & gets up early and then is grumpy later and Brooklyn is happy and gets to do special things because she goes to bed and sleeps until Mommy comes to get her.  Also emphasized was how he didn't get to walk to see Christmas lights because he was too grumpy, but the next day he remembered and slept and got to go see Christmas lights.

 Emotional blackmail?  Maybe.  Whatever, I hope it works.  Rinse and repeat that story on the way home tomorrow, because, you know, he's distractable. 

Returning to Work. And a Gift

Yep.  I'm back at work.  Full-time.  With three children.  Whoop.  I get the standard questions that I have no idea how to answer:  are you glad to be back at work? how is it leaving your baby?  how is it going with three kids?

Here's the truth.  There are days that leaving my babies really, really bites the big one.  BUT most days it is just fine.  It is rewarding to me to have quiet moments where I'm only worrying about myself and not three (four, if you count the husband) other people.  I feel like that statement exposes the dark underbelly of parenting, but I promised the truth.  So it's a conundrum--I miss my kids like crazy during the day but am also thankful for moments to myself (hello, using the bathroom without an audience).  I also know they are in good, safe hands, where, true story, Brooklyn didn't want to leave yesterday (that broke my heart just a wee bit).

The other odd thing is that I am way more tired back at work than during maternity leave.  I got a nap all but 3, maybe 4, days of my leave, which kept me sane.  Unfortch, nap time isn't included in my workday, but if you know my employer, put in a good word for it, m'kay?  So there you have it.  Not always pretty, but it's a pretty good life.  Even better (this is where the gift comes in) is that the tiniest of my tribe has been sleeping from 8:30ish until 3:30-4:00am.  That's seven hours, my friends.  Seven hours, roughly three of which I am not sleeping, but still, of sleep.  Seriously amazing.  I think it took Elliott six months for that feat, so gift for mom, indeed. 

Wishing you all health, happiness and controlled chaos. 

On Wisconsin! (and Social Anxiety)

I have more than a touch of social anxiety.  Many people who know me may doubt this, but let me assure you, it's for serious.  Medication helps, but only so much.  I think in my younger years some people thought I was snobby, some needy, some silly, but I realize now it was all born out of this stupid anxiety.

Back in the day, when I was trying to get pregnant for the first time, I  joined an on-line community.  That was 4 years ago.  I have made some real, true friends that have withstood the test of time. But you know, the internet allows you to hide behind words, to plot responses, to post only flattering photos, things of the like.

I no longer frequent the original on-line community, but via Facebook the friendships have persisted.  A smallish group of us, 16 to be exact, have maintained a close system of support, sharing some of our happiest and most challenging life moments.  We've discussed a group meet-up, but with budgets and kids and family trips, that hasn't happened yet. Part of me wants this to happen, but the other part feels super anxious that this would be a disaster. Luckily for me, one lovely lady and her family was in my area this week.  From Wisconsin.  Yep.  Exciting.  Only it meant I had to actually meet her, you know like, in person.

ARGH.  The possibility of awkward small talk (I run out of things about 5 minutes into this)? Voices that might sound weird? What if I say inappropriate things (I tend toward this)? What if she thinks I'm dressed wrong (Fashion is not one of my gifts)?  That I'm ugly (Profile pics are the devil)?  A bad mom (One kid was crying, one whiny, one skinny)?

Truthfully, as much as I wanted to meet Valerie and her family, I was completely intimidated and it did cross my mind to take the easy way out and make polite excuses as to why this wouldn't work.  But I didn't.  I anted up and went and guess what???  It was GREAT.  Of course the anxiety rears its ugly head even typing that. .  . What if Valerie didn't think the same?  Well, I'm putting it out there anyway.  It was GREAT.  Our conversation was smooth.  Flowed.  It felt like we had known each other for years.  . . which is convenient because we have.  I was actually sad for the time to be over because I could've kept saying awkward things talking the rest of the afternoon.  Maybe with adult beverages.  For those people who don't believe in friendships made in the anonymity of the interwebs, I say that isn't true.

Survival of the anxious.  Whew. Maybe that big group meet-up isn't such a bad idea afterall.