The Gift of Time

I have always wished for more hours in the day.  There is never enough time to get done what I need and want to do.  In fact if I added it all up, I would need about 34 hours in every day.  And that's just a conservative estimate:

5 hours=quality time spent with each member of my family
3 hours=time spent cooking and eating meals
1 hour=exercise
2 hours=showering, getting ready, primping
1 hour=laundry
1 hour=taking boys to and from school and practices
3 hours=nursing baby and feeding him baby food
2 hours=time spent cleaning and tidying up house
3 hours=time spent running errands, grocery shopping
1 hour=talking to other mamas (this is purely for research, comparison, additional information)
2 hours=time spent reading and sending e-mail, searching the web and blogging
2 hours=watching t.v.
8 hours=sleeping

Today, we are actually given the gift of time.  Twenty-four whole extra hours.  What a dream.  If I could spend them any way I wanted, this is what I would do:

• Two words - SPA DAY!  An entire day of massage, mani/pedi, facial, beauty goddess goodness.
• Have a long lunch with my girlfriends sans children.
• Spend time with each of my sons individually and do anything they chose.
• Spend time with Hubby, maybe in the hot tub or at our favorite restaurant.
• Read glossy magazines and all the 99 cent books I've downloaded to my Kindle.
• Take all the time I want at the gym.
• Take a long nap without little boys appearing at my bedside asking me what I'm doing.
• Spend the day writing and reading blogs.
• Take a cooking or photography class.
• Shop in all the little boutiques I've been dying to check out.

Unfortunately, though, today is going to be just another day.  The boys need to be taken to and from school, meals need to be made, and the laundry isn't going to do itself.  I usually take Wednesday afternoons to work on writing projects, but I may have to take two little boys to the doctor instead.

The one thing I do get time for today is my monthly girls' night out, which is always fun.  Baby E always has to tag along though, so I can't go totally crazy.

But the twenty-four extra hours are there.  Maybe I could spend them reflecting on all the blessings I have in my life:

1. A loving, generous, supportive, funny husband.
2. An 8 y.o. with a personality so unique that I am amazed by the thinks his mind thinks.
3. A 6 y.o. who loves helping mommy and his brothers.
4. A 4 y.o. who makes us laugh with his combination of cuteness and coolness.
5. A baby who was an unexpected blessing.
6. Five years' time with a special child who taught me so much.
7.  My good health.
8. My wonderful friends.
9. A close knit family of in-laws.
10. A great relationship with my parents.
11. A brother and sister who would do anything for me.
12. A roof over my head.
13. Food on my table.
14. Stylish clothes on my back.
15. A college degree on my wall.
16. A car to drive.
17. Medical insurance.
18. The opportunity to continue learning.
19. The opportunity to give my sons an excellent private education.
20. The ability to travel.
21. A vacation home.
22. Televisions, telephones, computers and a Kindle Fire.
23. A kind-hearted, loving nanny for my children and support person for me.
24. Lexapro.

Twenty-four hours...no matter how we chose to or have to spend them, they are there, giving us the gift of time.


How will you spend your Leap Year day?

At Least I'm Doing It

So, I got the bill for my gym membership in the mail the other day. 

That's $127 I'll never see again.

I know, I know...you're saying, "So, Kath,  how's that New Year's resolution to get healthy going?"  It's going - really, it is.  It's just not going to the gym.

I have a treadmill in my basement, which I use a lot over going to the gym.  It's just that it's right there.  I don't even have to leave the house.  I can hop on when Baby E is napping or when the other boys are watching t.v. or building Legos.  I can listen to my ipod and sing as loudly as I want.  Cee Lo and I can shout out, "Forget You (clean version only around the kids)," or I can obnoxiously agree with Gaga, "Nebraska, I love ya!"  And my boys don't even bat an eye.  They figure that Mommy is just singing again.  Being Mommy.

I like to rock out and dance/walk or dance/run.  I can run like this, and no one is around to see me (the boys don't seem to think it's strange at all).  I can do weird interval sprints or walk backwards or sideways or on my hands if I want to (no, I'm not that talented).  I don't have to worry about how I am working out or how hard or for how long, because no one has to know but me.

Sounds great, right?

Only when it works out (no pun intended).

The disadvantage of trying to exercise at home versus going to the gym is that the baby monitor, not me, determines the length of my workout.  When Baby E is done with his nap, I'm done with my work out. At the gym, someone else is watching him, and I can have up to three hours to exercise and shower (not that I ever use that time, but maybe I will some day - I can dream).

At the gym, there's obviously so much more equipment than I have at home, and trainers to help me use it.  There is a vibe there, too.  All around, people are getting fit and healthy, and I push myself to get into that same rhythm.  I silently compete with others as I look around the gym.  I've never matched the number of miles I've run at the gym on my home treadmill.  It's too easy to quit at home.

And too easy not to start at all.  Oftentimes, I will lay Baby E down for his nap, and before I even get on the treadmill, I think I can just quickly clean up the breakfast dishes.  And throw in a load of laundry.  And check my e-mail.  And, oh, as long as I'm on the computer, I'll see what people are talking about on Facebook this morning.

And before I know it, my time is up - and so is the baby.

My only inspiration and motivation at home are my too tight spring clothes and my flabby image staring back at me in the mirror.  At the gym, there are lots of other women, the ones I see every time I go, who are in great shape.  And I don't mean in an intimidating, hard-body, spandex type of way.  My gym is not like that - that's why I chose it.  I mean in a way I could be if I would make it a priority to go regularly.  I once met a darling octogenarian who gets a ride to the gym five days a week!  She was beautiful and happy and perky - a true role model for life longevity.

Plus, the scale at the gym has a sign over it that says, "Smile! You're beautiful!"

My scale at home says, "Hey, Fatass!  Why haven't you lost this weight yet?"

This  morning, I had planned on going to the gym.  I even called yesterday to reserve a spot for Baby E in the nursery.  When I woke up, I put my gym clothes on.  The morning was going smoothly - the kitchen was clean, and fresh laundry was in the dryer.  I was right on schedule.

But then, Baby E started yawning, and it became clear I wasn't going to make it to the gym.  So I called and cancelled the appointment.

No matter.  I knew he would sleep after I dropped Lil' C off at preschool, and I could log some miles on the treadmill anyway.

As soon as he was down for his nap, I went straight downstairs and put on my running shoes - no stopping in the kitchen, the laundry room, or at my computer.  I got on and started running.  I could feel the flab melting away.

And then, there was my alarm - the cries erupting from the baby monitor.  He had only slept ten minutes.  I bolted upstairs to try and lull him back to sleep.  He wasn't having it.  Frustrated, I went back downstairs anyway, and resumed my workout.

I knew Baby E was safe in his crib, and I could still hear his faint cries.  I cut my run way short, by at least twenty minutes, but at least I did it. 

I've been so frustrated lately with my lack of time to devote to exercise, especially with spring looming around the corner.  But what I need to remember is that at least I'm doing it.  I may not be working out everyday or for as long as I want, but at least I'm doing something.  That's going to have to be okay for now.

I may not like it, but I can't beat myself up about it.

Did you hear that, scale?  I'm doing it.  It doesn't matter where or when or for how long.  I'm doing something.

So shut up and leave me alone.


How do you find time to exercise or go to the gym?

I'm Already Taken

I have a favorite quote that rings so true for me: Be yourself. Everybody else is already taken. 

I've battled self-esteem issues my entire life.  I've often looked at other people and their lives and wished they were mine. This was especially true at the all-girl high school I attended, where it was so easy to compare myself to everyone else and fall short every time.

Even now, as an adult, I see a woman who seems to own effortless beauty and endless confidence, and I want that for myself.  I see children who are darling and well-behaved and kind, and I wonder why my boys aren't.  I see a family that is whole, happy, and complete, and I burn with jealousy that mine is broken and fragmented.

Some days it seems as if everyone else is better-off than me, and I wonder what it would be like to change places, if just for that day.

And then, I hear stories and I learn things that make me take pause and re-evaluate those thoughts.

One such story came to both Hubby and me late the other night.  We each received separate e-mails from a couple we know from Hubby's time in dental school and residency. J&A can be described as the perfect couple; soul mates if that concept actually exists.  They dated off and on in college, only to go their separate ways post-graduation.  Years later, after the break-up of J's marriage, he found A again, only to rekindle their college spark.  Their wedding was a storybook affair, taking place on one of Napa Valley's most beautiful vineyards.  In the ten years they have been together, they have traveled all over the world.  And although they chose to remain childless, every Christmas they would remember their friends' children with hand-picked, perfect gifts.  This past summer, they welcomed a darling baby boy into their family, and their charmed life became truly picture-perfect.

Until recently when they learned that J has a brain tumor.

Obviously, having been through it ourselves, I would never wish this on anyone else. It's terrible news, and I would never change places with them.

So why is it that I would change places with someone else?

Tragedy is, unfortunately, inevitable.  Accidents happen, diseases are incurable, and death is, undeniably, imminent for all of us.  Something bad happens to all of us at one time or another in our lives.  The people who write about 'life being so wonderful' on Facebook are probably just having a good day.

Or nothing bad has really happened to them... yet.

Or they are just fooling themselves...and everyone else.

We can't really know what someone else's life is actually like when we look at them from afar.  Some people make it point to paint a pleasant image.  I should know - I think I have perfected that.  I've had people tell me, "Kathy, you always look so put together." or "You are so calm with your boys.  I'm not sure I could be like that." Or, what I heard all the time when Joey was sick, "You are handling this with such grace and strength."

What other choice did I have?

I've learned from first-hand experience that people don't like to be around someone who is always angry, sad or depressed.  It makes us uncomfortable when a person is always crying or yelling at their kids.

So, we put on a happy face and present an image that we have it all under control.

My mother has always said, "Never be jealous of someone else because I can guarantee you that they have something in their lives that you would not want to contend with.

Some people wear their feelings on their sleeves, bitch to their girlfriends - or perfect strangers - about it all.  Some people send it out to cyberspace by blogging about it.  🖐

And some just hold it all inside a pretty package, hoping no one will see what's really going on.  Hoping they won't be judged because that would add to the hurt they already feel.

Last night, Hubby and I heard that J's surgery went well, that the tumor is low-grade and treatable. But I still wouldn't trade lives with him and A.  I wouldn't want that for Hubby, and he wouldn't want that for me.

I think we can all look at a part of another person's life and feel a twinge of jealousy.  But while we are envying someone else, another person may be envying us.

Being put together or being calm, and strength and grace aside, I seriously doubt anyone would want to trade places with me if it meant they would have to lose a child.  So, I won't wish to be you, if you won't wish to be me. 

After all, I'm already taken.

Children are Our Mirrors



Everyone at my house has been feeling like this tree lately - hanging down, mopey, like a heavy blanket of something has been weighing us down. 

When I feel that way, it's so much easier to snap at my kids, to be short with Hubby, to stomp around the house and exhale loudly over all the Lego pieces I step on with my bare feet and all the clothes that fall just a tad short of the laundry basket.

And Hubby, having come home to another take- out meal and screaming children, is crabby and yells at everyone to "get to bed!" And then brothers snap at each other to "leave me alone!" and "quit following me!"  Two will gang up on one.  Everyone interrupts everyone else and then shouts, "stop interrupting me!" and dinner is a disaster.  People want to play alone, be alone, and everyone hides in their own corner of the house.

Attitudes are contagious...especially bad ones.  For the past couple weeks, our house has been infected with a case of  'attitudus suckus.'  It's a nasty one, too. It just won't  let go.

Before I was a mom, I used to assume kids were brats because their parents were jerks, because they were screwing up the parenting job.  When I became a mom, I realized that children come with their own unique little personalities; while some are easy going and mellow, others are high strung and stubborn.  Some can roll with any situation, and others freak out at the littlest change in routine.  Try as we might to control them, some children are going to do whatever they feel like doing at any given moment.  On the other hand, there are some who bend to our every suggestion just like little puppets.

I have had four very unique little personalities living in my home.  Joey was extremely busy and loved to be the center of attention.  If he was not the focus of the attention, he was going to take the attention any way he could get it - even if it meant screaming in the middle of a crowded Cheesecake Factory (remind me to tell you that story sometime!) or repeating Grandma's name over and over for an entire hour-long car ride.  At the same time, he could be easily talked into obeying and was always willing to help with any task.

Slim exists in a world of his own creation and stays there about 98% of the day.  He is in no big hurry to do anything, and everything interests him.  The smallest rustle of a leaf or the slightest change of the wind can distract him.  He avoids conflict like the plague - the kid would literally give you the shirt off his back just to keep you happy.  He can talk your ear off, or he can keep to himself for hours.

Knox is incredibly moody - his attitude can change on a dime.  He can go from adorably mature and sweet, kind and funny to angry, surly, and pouty in the same minute.  He wants to believe that everything does, and rightly should, revolve around him.  He can be incredibly attentive to his brothers and parents, or he can be annoyed as hell by us all.

Lil' C is the boldest four-year-old I have ever met.  He may be small, but he is mighty and wants everyone to know it. He is loud, in your face, and not backing down.  I have seen him stand up to boys twice his age and size who simply walk away scratching their heads. And don't you dare tell him he's cute.  He's cool!  Yet, he will cup my face and tell me how much he loves me, the best mommy in the world, and give all sorts of voices to each of his stuffed animals and blankets.

We have yet to discover the depths of Baby E's personality.  But by all indications he is going to be a cuddler, a fun-lover, and quite stubborn.  He may actually be a screamer, too.

The more I learn about my kids' personalities, the more I believe their bratty behavior probably is my fault.  Not because I am a jerk, but because my parenting is flawed.  How I choose to react to their unique personality quirks directly affects their behavior.  I am quick to lose my temper and yell at Slim about his loafing and let Knox's temper tantrums put me in a bad mood.  It may think I need to raise my voice louder than Lil C's, or stomp around the house yelling about all the messes. It's just easier.

But children are our mirrors; they reflect everything we do and say.   Like the way I growl out Slim's name when I am frustrated with him.  The way I slam things when I am angry.  The inappropriate things I swore I would never say in front of my children.  I am mortified and ashamed when these behaviors are reflected back at me.

We all have both light and dark inside of us.  The dark emerges freely, but the light takes effort to form.  It takes patience and love and nurturing.  It's a much more difficult choice to make.

But it's just as easily reflected as the dark.

Like when his brothers listen to and encourage one of Slim's far-fetched stories.  Or when the boys divide jobs when cleaning up toys.  Or when they speak sweetly to the baby or compliment and encourage each other.  I hear my words of love and encouragement in their voices, too.  It's hard work, but we can nurture the positive traits of our children's personalities and handle the difficult traits a little more delicately.

Last night, I made Hubby beef stew.  Not something I like, but he had expressed a desire for it.  Knowing the boys wouldn't eat it, I got them each a special meal on my way home.  The light and love that emerged around that dinner table was beautiful.  I had made each member of my family feel loved and special, and they reflected that by talking softly, speaking nicely and listening to each other's stories.  There was even a chorus of, "You're the best mommy in the world."  And even one, "You're so pretty, Mommy."  (Gotta love that!)

Coming off a long day of one errand and appointment after another, I could have arrived home crabby and snapped at everyone.  But instead, I chose to do something nice.  My light reflected off them and came right back at me.  For the rest of the evening, positive attitudes were contagious.  People played together and were happy. We were all living in the light and feeling the love.  It's a good place to be.