Coffee

I am always disappointed in myself for not updating my blog more often because I have so much darn fun when I go back to read it!  Here's another one I dug out.  I wrote this around Christmas, 2010 when John was in Qatar.  I think I had been struck with a case of the "Deployment Blues!"

December, 2010

A friend (a working mom) asked me this weekend, "Why don't you update your blog?" My response was, "I don't know. Honestly, I just don't have time these days." What I got back from her was, "What exactly do you DO during the day?" I felt my self righteousness flare up for a moment and then I realized that I didn't have an answer for her. I answered with a weak and defeated little admission, "I'm not sure..." Funny enough, that made me even madder than her obnoxious, irritating question did in the first place.

That exchange got to me. I was a working Mom, who thought she had it all under control, and then I "retired" this summer. While debating my decision to work or to eat bon bons, I read more articles than you can imagine about "working mom vs. stay at home mom" and I studied the pros/cons of both lifestyles. I felt a sense of pride when I read about how much a working mom does and I gloated when I read what a stay at home mom does because I thought I could do it so much better. I felt like I was in control of this decision and I very happily decided to stay at home with the kids.

As I was going through that life change, I was presented with an unexpected challenge. The simple fact is that it's all well and good until you throw a deployment into the mix! I'm not sure where to start on that one. I used to think I was better somehow. I thought that my positive attitude would get us through this with total grace and beauty. I was sure that other women dealing with deployments would look at me and say, "Wow! I wish I could do this as well as she does. I wonder what her secret is?" When the moods started to overtake me, I'd try the old secrets I had been given and I'd cry in the car, or I would go for a run, or I would take control of something and build a chalkboard wall in my hallway where we could have a countdown and cross off each day as it ended. They're all very good intentions, but the responsibility falls at my feet no matter what tricks I try.

With the somewhat pious question rolling around in my mind, "What do you DO all day?" I took a look at the major changes that have happened to me recently. No job, no husband. Well, crap. That's a bummer. But it's my bummer and I have to own it, learn it, face it and beat it.

To me it all comes down to coffee. When I was working, coffee meant a walk with friends and a time to regroup. Sometimes it was a walk by myself and a few minutes to think. Sometimes it was a chat with friends about a common issue. Today, when I drink a coffee, it means that there is a mess to clean up. My son is the sweetest, most helpful and wonderful child that the world has ever known. Since his dad has been gone, he's stepped up and tried to help wherever he can. He now makes the coffee in the morning and I love him for it. When I smell the coffee grinds floating upstairs from the kitchen, I groan because I know for certain that it's coming. He proudly brings me a cup of the bitter brew for which he's used about 17 times the normal ration of coffee grinds to make, informs me that he's spilled on the stairs, and that he only has a few drops of milk on the counter from when he was making it "just the way I like it."

In my professional life, I was a planner (yes, this is hilarious if you know me on a personal level). I was a Project Planner and then a Financial Planner. I isolated my variables, lived by the critical path, and I knew what had to get done in order for us to meet our deadlines. If there was a risk to our success, I had a plan to mitigate. In my mommy life, I am not good at planning and it drives me crazy! If I think have it under control, the phone will ring or someone will have a "spirit day" emergency at school (this morning I was told as they were getting dressed that they needed to dress in a way that represents another culture...whatever...). There is no plan and there is no set schedule because things constantly change. There is always an emergency that is completely crucial to their survival and I have to stop and fix it. When I think I have the kids under control, I find myself challenged by a massive bag of dog food that has to be carried upstairs while my kids clear the table and drop a glass bowl on the floor and they panic because the dog might try to lick up the broken bits of glass. Someone yells at a sibling and the victim of the abuse goes into hysterics while the aggressor wonders what they did to get in trouble when I come running downstairs trying to protect the child that has been wronged. On my flight downstairs, I see the trail of bitter coffee that I was accosted with this morning and I wonder when I'll have time to get the steam vac out to clean it up. After I've rescued all living beings from the glass on the floor, I mop up the spaghetti sauce and run upstairs to throw the towels in the laundry which is when I discover the clothes in the machine that I put in there this morning to plan for whatever spirit day idiocy I "thought ahead" about this morning. It's pure chaos. It's managing the lives and expectations of a 5 and an 8 year old. It's making sure that the mohawk cream doesn't glop up and make him look like he has dandruff or it's making sure that the tights she has on don't make her feel like a dork because everyone else wears different kinds. It's stuff that won't go down in the record books but it's important here and now.

I'm not sure what I do all day, but it's not nothing. I drink bitter coffee and enjoy the smile on my son's face when I manage to choke it down. I eat army green pancakes because the kids have made them for me and I comb through the lotion in my hair because the kids have given me a "massage" out of gratitude for the things I do for them. It's by no means a glamorous or even productive day today, but I life a very full life and people will finally know it when my children grow up to be productive and responsible members of our society.

Sardines

Annalise - Age 5

I just went through my email to clean out over 4000 messages of mostly JUNK that was bogging me down.  Lucky for me, I found this little gem...

*******************
March 21, 2011
From: Lisa Dolby
To: Lisa Dolby
Subject: You can show me where the sardine one is.

Message: Blank
*******************

...it took me about one second to remember what that one was about.

It was a warm (hot) spring day in Chula Vista and I was spending some time with Annalise while Justin was in school.  She was in Kindergarten, so she must have been on the early release schedule, and we had an hour or so until we had to go back to Salt Creek to pick up Justin who was in third grade.  We were running an errand and Annalise asked me for ice cream.  

I told her that ice cream is a treat, that we can't have it all the time because it's not healthy for us, and that we could only have it on special occasions.  We started talking about ice cream versus sherbert and I told her that I'd be open to the idea of going to the grocery store and bringing home some fruit sorbet.  This did not make her happy!  I remember that she did not throw a tantrum but looked heartbroken and it was so hard not to give in. Parenting is hard on the heart from time to time.

We went over to Vons (grocery store) and she had been thinking about the offer for a little while.  She was still just little enough that I could carry her, which I did often, so I remember that I was dreading how she felt like such a big girl holding on to my hand in the parking lot.  She asked me a few questions about random things and then sighed and told me, "Mommy, I've been thinking and I guess you can show me where the sardine one is."

Huh?

Translated:  She was ready to negotiate and was willing to consider my deal.  She wanted to know what the "sorbet" was all about.  One of our most serious rules is that our kids may not throw a tantrum to get what they want.  If they'll take a breath, calm down, and talk to us about it rationally, we're always willing to listen.  That day in the Vons parking lot, I was so impressed with her willingness to try "sardines" that I hugged her tight, told her I was proud of her for not having a fit even when she wanted to, and she won the negotiation.

We went to Cold Stone and enjoyed a little bit of the good stuff!