Who says I'm done growing?

My kids are always asking to measure themselves on our measuring wall.  Even if I just made a new pencil mark last week... they want to see if they're growing as fast as they think they are.  Often times they react with disbelief if they haven't shot up an inch in the past seven days.  But then they look at me (with pity) and say, "That's right.  You don't grow either."

Well, what they don't know won't hurt them, I guess...

In the past year I've grown more than my kids could ever imagined. I've transitioned from a stay at home mom to a part-time working mom to a full-time working mom, and what a transition!  My years as a full-time at home parent were so valuable -- but they couldn't have prepared me for the confidence I feel, the sense of growth in this new part of  my life. 

But with growth sometimes come growing pains.

At first, when I started working full time, I had a lot of guilt about not being 'there' for my kids.  And by not being there, I mean having a babysitter for my kids during the two hours of the day they weren't in school.  Trust me -- those two hours had me missing my crew like crazy.  The toughest part, though, was not being sure whether I could trust the care they were receiving, because let me tell you, the 'day care' experience was rough.  My kids encountered all the things I didn't want for them.

That's why I'd stayed at home for so long.  No one could care for my kids, could understand them like I could.  At the worst times, the (horrible) babysitter would refer to my children as "my kids".  I would correct her; No.  They're MY kids.

It was tough.  I had a friend who asked me over a casual lunch one day how I could live with myself, abandoning my kids.  Mom-judgment.  From someone I trusted.

Then there was the re-adjustment to professional life.  The learning that only comes from experience; learning that business is business and openness and friendship aren't always returned.  I'll admit, the ups and downs of the office involved a learning curve that was wholly unique.

But there have been bright spots.  I have become friends with people I never would have known otherwise.  I have learned to stretch myself, challenge myself, to be willing to take on more than I can handle comfortably, to try new things and build new skills.  I am working with people I respect, and who show me respect in return.

As I've helped my kids (and defended them) through the struggles of this year of transition, I have seen them become tougher, more resilient, more self-reliant and more cohesive as brothers and sisters.  Family has come to mean something -- a uniquely safe place that the pressures 'out there' can't touch.

My daughter has come to understand that her mom is strong.  Not just loving or understanding or fun.  And that even when I'm exhausted or stressed, I'm never too overwhelmed to love her more than anything else in my life.  I have seen her develop a strength of her own, and it amazes me.

Personally, I have found that my return to the workforce has given me something that motherhood alone was hard-pressed to provide.  Confidence. An intellectual challenge. An identity of my own. 

Maybe it's just a new life stage.  But it's one I like and love. 

So the next time one of my kiddos decides to sidle up to the measuring wall, maybe I'll consider taking a turn.  Who knows what I might find?


- Midwest Mom

Busy Busy Busy

What an August it has been -- full of new beginnings for all of us. As a few of my bloggy friends know, I've started teaching preschool and have a roomful of three-year-olds to call my own.

I have to admit, I love it so far. It feels like work I was meant to be doing.

As for my own three... back to school has been and always will be complicated. They're happy to see old friends, but not thrilled about homework. They're anxious about who will be in their class or what their teachers will be like. They're excited for new supplies and clothes and hope everyone notices how much taller they are now that a summer has gone by.

They haven't been disappointed.

Now, we're getting ready to enter into the busy season for after school activities. Soccer starts in a week or two. Dance class for my youngest will begin again. And my second grader will begin preparing for his First Communion.

These are busy times for our little clan. I hope the time doesn't slip by too quickly.

- Midwest Mom

The Balancing Act

Problems arise in that one has to find a balance between what people need from you and what you need for yourself.

~ Jessye Norman

As a mother, I have always felt pulled and tugged at by the myth of what our lives should be, what my own life should be, and what exists in reality. I was a professional before I became a mother, and I decided early-on that I would not try to balance the life of a working professional woman and the responsibilities of motherhood.

I have never believed a woman could truly "have it all".

I believe that life is all about compromise and negotiation. I believed and still believe that having one foot in the professional world and one foot in the home would make me only half as good at either.

So, I made the choice to stay home.

But something in me is changing, waking up perhaps. Maybe it's because my youngest will be going to school soon. Maybe the act of writing our experience daily, weekly, monthly for the last ten months is the reason. Who knows? But I'm starting to think about old dreams long pushed to the back of the bottom drawer of my consciousness.

I'm starting to reconsider law school. I'm starting to re-hash my PhD research. My quieter moments are filling themselves up with a tiny voice calling to me.

Be more.

It's time to be more.

If I'm honest with myself in those moments of wondering, I will come to the same conclusion I always have -- law school is too expensive. My PhD required for me to live and work in Russia, where I wasn't at all happy. I was surrounded by women who had made the conscious choice to let strangers raise their children so that they could pursue their professional dreams.

And yet, if I'm so busy being honest, I have to admit that I miss those dreams. I wonder what would have happened if I had fulfilled them.

There is a part of me (would I admit this to my children?) that still puts the words "just a" in front of the word Mom.

It's hard to admit, but there it is.

Even though I believe that my children are a gift and no other person in the world could do what I am doing to raise them, my mind aches for more challenging work and my spirit aches for acknowledgment.

But I don't like to wallow, and introspection only gets a person so far. Action requires risk, but if I don't take a chance now, I'll never know what the future may hold for me.

I feel like I'm at the jumping-off place and I need to re-start the portion of my life that was unquestioningly put on hold. I'm just not sure how to start.

But I do need to start.

- Midwest Mom

The Ever-Growing American Workweek

Out of the kindness of his heart, Hubby is filling-in on third shift this week so that a colleague can receive training that's only offered during the day.

After a fantastically wonderful Valentine's weekend with the perfect balance of family time and alone time, it was tough to send him off to work last night at 10 p.m. Needless to say, I am a tired shell of my usual self -- on a day the children have off from school!

If I were a good mother, I would have "presidential" things planned. We would be coloring free activity pages about George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. We would have left at dawn to reach the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum in Springfield for a day of presidentially-focused fun. We would be feasting on cherries from morning till night.

We aren't.

We breakfasted in hushed tones and the children are playing in their basement playroom to keep from waking Daddy. In a half hour, we'll probably walk a mile or so to the local AMBUCS playground so that they can be loud and crazy. So they can be kids.

The one thing this turn at third shift is helping me to realize is that there are way too many people working in the middle of the night in this country.

I mean, really. Why? Are they doing something so very essential that no one could live without it being done in the middle of the night?!?? I think about the businesses here in town that are open all night (and the people working in them) and I cannot fathom why it is necessary.

The American workweek has been expanded beyond the point of reason. Not only do many wage earners work Saturdays and Sundays, others have to carry around the infernal Blackberry -- essentially tethering themselves to the MotherShip of Work even in their off-hours.

What would change if we were to reinstate some limits on the American Workweek?

- More Americans would get a good night's sleep. There would be less road rage as a result and probably less abuse of all kinds. There would be more smiling for no reason. Overall, a positive change.

- The only people not getting more sleep would be emergency workers, the people who make donuts, and one drug store in each town (parent's have to be able to pick up their late-night baby Tylenol ration somehow!) Another exception would be cat burglars and arsonists, but police- and firemen would remain on night duty, too (with plenty of donuts). So, problem solved.

- Families could get used to being around each other again. When I think about how many people in this country are doing what we're doing this week, kissing goodbye at 10pm, it makes me sad. How much stronger could marriages be if Moms and Dads actually slept the same hours? How much happier would kids be if everyone had the energy to play when they do?

- Think about the energy saved if businesses were not running their lights and machinery and heat and air conditioning all night long. Lots.

- There would be a dramatic increase in the quality of youth sports, because the majority of the population would have Saturday off. The exceptions to the Saturday off rule would have to be donut shops (again), restaurants, bowling alleys, grocery stores, museums, and roller rinks.

-We could reserve Sunday as a day for picnics and long walks. Only balloon stands, zoos, ice cream shops, parks, (and of course churches) need to remain open. If there's ice cream, we don't need donuts.

- Truckers who prefer to drive at night wouldn't have to worry about snoozing third-shifters making their way home. On the other hand, more people would be available to go to bars or stay late at Aunt Mildred's for the semi-annual Euchre tournament... So that one's a wash.

- An entire industry could be spawned making signs that say CLOSED. How's that for economic stimulus?


Of course, you know this list is tongue-in-cheek... sort of. Part of me does wonder how efficient we can possibly be as a country when we're working ourselves into the ground all day and all night.

Maybe I just think that the only 24-7 jobs should be the ones that people would do even without being paid -- just because they're called to do them.

Motherhood and Fatherhood qualify.

Keeping the McDonald's drive-thru open does not.

Fighting fires or manning the emergency room qualifies.

Wal-mart photo developing does not.

Now, you weigh in.

Think about it... what value do you put on work in your life? Is it appropriate?

What would you be willing to sacrifice in one area to gain in another?

Do you have a compelling reason why Larry's Kountry Bread Shoppe needs to be open 24 hours? (After all, they don't even make donuts...)

Are there other businesses that are essential to your late-night well-being?

I can't wait to hear your thoughts.

- Midwest Mom

Chores or No Chores?

... That is the question.

Have you ever visited a friend who works outside the home (and whose children are in daycare) and been really discouraged because their house looks like a page from a magazine? That is so not my house. Why? Umm... we live here. So, sometimes things get messy. When you have three children, that's life, I guess.

Usually, I feel like I can keep up with things. There are those times, though, when I feel like Cinderella minus the Fairy Godmother. Then I think of my own mother, who had six children to chase after, six schedules to keep straight, and six clutter bugs leaving their "droppings" in every room of the house. She's either a Saint or she was crazy -- or both.

But, she had a way to get a little help around the house. It's a little something we like to call chores.

My mom's chore system was a complex affair. It was well-designed for maximum efficiency and completely even distribution of work. She labeled the kitchen chairs with numbers, 1 through 6. Each chair was assigned a household chore, like vacuuming or dusting or cleaning the bathroom, and a kitchen chore, like setting the table or loading the dishwasher. We rotated chairs each week. That way, there could never be the argument that one child "got off easy" or that a "favorite" chore was always assigned to the same child. It worked like clockwork.

But I know myself. A system like hers is completely beyond me. Now that I have my own children, my mom's chore system may as well be advanced particle physics or nuclear engineering. It would be nice to have a fully functioning team of professional cleaners, masquerading as elementary school students. But I don't have the discipline to make it happen. I just parent differently.

This year, I thought, "I have a 7, 5, and almost 3 year old. I need something simple." So, I came up with a more basic system that fits our family's needs (and gives me a little bit of a break!)

As part of our daily routine, we spend a little time at the beginning and end of each day tidying up the house. In the morning, there are chores like vacuuming or sweeping the floor. There are the morning dishes to load in the dishwasher, bathrooms to tidy, laundry to sort. The jobs are different each day, and there are some that lend themselves easily to helping hands. Those are the chores I share with the kids.

When they moan in that sing-songy voice, with a tinge of desperation (you know you've heard it), "WHY do we ALways HAVE to HELP??" I explain that they are members of this family, and I am not the only one who has to work around here -- maybe a little more wicked stepmother than Cinderella in my voice. On their best days, they fall in line and give a little effort.

Once in a while, though, they present me with a golden opportunity that cannot be passed up.

At those times, their response to my chore request will be, "Mom, can I earn some money today?" I make it a practice always to reward initiative. "Yes!" I say, with a smile. "I have four chores that need to be done. Each one will earn you a quarter." How many chores my children take on is up to them. We make a verbal contract for the work, I show them how to do it, and once it is complete, they submit it for inspection. If their work passes muster, I pay them. If they've done an exceptional job, I may give them a bonus. All money they earn goes into their piggy banks.

My oldest son loves to earn money for his bank. He likes the jingle of the coins, so I usually pay him in change. After he has completed his chores, he will count all the money in his bank before putting it away. As a result of his enthusiasm, my 5-year-old is catching on. Often, he will ask to clean, too. I give him chores that are difficult for me, but easy for him -- like crawling under the beds and making sure they are clear of toys and books and whatever else. He likes to use the swiffer, so I will attach a dust cloth to it and send him out after the dust bunnies. We use a lot of Clorox wipes or Pledge wipes. My kids can dust with the best of 'em. Often, they will catch things that I miss -- like the dusty bottom rungs of the dining room chairs. Even my little girl has asked for jobs. I give her basic clean-up jobs like putting all the books on the bookshelf (worth a nickel) or lining up all the shoes in pairs (a dime).

Not every clean-up session is a chance to earn money. The children are responsible for putting their dirty clothes in the laundry and making their beds each morning. When we get up from the table, each child cleans off their own place. Clean clothes must be put into a child's bureau before bedtime. And the children try each day to clean up their toys before Daddy gets home. ... not that that always happens.

When we're cleaning the house, I help where I can and try to keep my youngest focused on the task at hand. From time to time, though, I am busy with one of the other thousands of jobs assigned to me (not earning a dime, I might add.) So, I just give the children a task and set a time-limit. "Clean the playroom, please. I will be back in ten minutes to check your work." I check in on them as the time goes by to help them focus and divide up tasks, but they do the work themselves. It is fun to see how proud they are of having accomplished something without my help.

It's also fun for me to spend less time tidying up after them.

I tell my kids, "we work together so we can play together." As a reward, we'll go to the park or go play in the sprinkler or go on a bike ride.

Does the system work perfectly every time? Of course it doesn't. My house gets messy, just like anyone's. But having the kids help with chores does make me feel a little bit less like Cinderella all the time. I hope it is teaching my children about teamwork, responsibility, and taking pride in their work. I think it is.

Maybe I'll ask them when I'm done cleaning the bathtub.

.