mommy hybrid

About six years ago, I was sitting in the hallway monitoring high school students during the Texas state test. About six months pregnant, I was seated next to a returning-from-SAHM-status mom eager to be in the school to help. She had a science degree and had spent the last previous six years at home with her children. She was smart and very capable. I asked her some advice about staying home.

She said, "It's worth it. But, you miss adult conversation." 

I didn't believe her.

I don't really like crowds or bunches of people. I actually dislike parties and social events. I thought, I'm safe. I'll be fine. I've got nothing to worry about.

It wasn't until my son's first few pediatrician appointments when it hit me. I was staring at the doctor while he asked me about my son's progress. Then, alone in that room, I was staring at him and thinking, "Someone's talking to me. Actually, talking to me." After he left, I then remembered I was wearing earrings, I don't usually wear jewelry, and I thought, "This is an outing for me!" I was embarrassed. 

Studies show that 80 percent of new parents feel this type of isolation and 34 percent spend their days alone (Brain Rules for Baby 73-74). And it's not their fault. After a while, as a new mom, you stop getting out. It's hard with a baby. Heck, it takes ten minutes just to pack and another ten minutes to load the car.

And, people stop dropping by. I've noticed as a mom, you can't call other moms, you can only text, because kids just don't allow you to stop and have the intimate chat you really need. It's like illegal. So , you are stuck inside a tomb with your kids... for 12 hours or so..

You can dabble with speaker phone for five minutes every now and then, but that's rare. You can cheat every now and then and leave a long and detailed voice mail. But, it's just not the same.

On top of the isolation, women at home spend 94.4 hours a week working (Brain Rules for Baby 77) and if paid for the efforts, would earn figures close to $120,000 a year. 

SAH moms don't get paid in things they can touch. They get paid in smiles, and with viewings of the first steps, the first words and in being able to have every moment with their children.

Sometimes, ironically, though, that every moment can become hard too. I find that if I don't miss my children, I need to get away.  And, ironically, I can BE home but not actually HOME in my mind. And, I can take my kids to the park, but I'm just watching them play. 

Or, not watching them play. Last week I saw a mom bring her Ipad to the park. She ignored the kids and played on her own. I would have delighted in talking to her for a while.

In short I miss what's happening around me if I am there all the time. I zone out when I get burned out. It's not always conscious. I forget the reasons I fought to be home.

When I worked full time, I came home at 5 and was putting my son to bed by 6:30. I had very little of myself to give. Now that I am home, I give everything of myself to my children. But, I remember that I've got to save something for me too- -because that, in itself, is a gift. A happy mom makes for happy kids. After Tuesday's flight, coming off of that moment is another story.

I often laugh and think moms should get merit badges. A merit badge for cooking a new dish. A merit badge for surviving the grocery store with three kids, planning meals for the week and somehow getting home in one piece. A merit badge for getting your child to eat peas.

Or, a badge for surviving the transition between working-full-time mom to stay-at-home-full-time mom. I mean, some moms are very capable in the work force and it is sheer culture shock to stay at home. Some moms, to be frank, were made to be at home. Some moms delight in cooking and baking and caring for young people. 

That's not me. 

In fact, for me, it took a year for me to understand how to make it work, to accept my limits, understand my talents and enjoy what I was capable of doing within my created boundaries. I'll never be the best cook, but I can learn a new recipe and try it out.  I'll be sure to have a dial-up backup.  And, honestly ordering pizza is better than a message. I get food made. I don't have dishes. So, it's like getting a maid and a cook and down time for just $15.

I'll never be cool mom let's play-on-the-floor-all-day mom. The house will never SHINE. But, in time, I can progress- -however that may look.

I read a blog from a former biologist turn SAHM the other day. She said, "I hate to admit it, but I am going back to work because I am bored." And, then another mom told me six months after being home, she turned back to school to get her master's degree because she too, was "bored."

I think some women were created to work and some were created to be home. If the two could merge, that would be a phenomenon. 

To be honest, I am a bit of a hybrid in training. I am a working mom, and it took a year for me to do a little morphing to be a SAHM. I've learned to enjoy the smell of clean clothes and a warm cooked meal that wasn't just out of the box- -or to be honest, mostly from the box. 

And, if given the chance between, some days googling over my baby and writing, some days, I'll choose work over that blistful moment. Right now, I am ignoring everything in my first hour and maybe only hour alone this week just to hide on my laptop and write because I find it fulfilling.

But, every time I take a moment to spend time in my local mom's group, I come back feeling renewed. I actually end up posting a comment like, "Thank you girls. You rebooted my day." Because company really does help. It's a tiny sacrifice to get out, but it's usually worth it in the longrun.

Sometimes it's hard to give up that time. I am typing now as my one-year-old sleeps and my friend Ann requested we hang out today, but due to child illnesses, we had to reschedule. But, sometimes, I get stuck between two worlds of what I need: social time and isolation. 

Sometimes I need to be alone, to shower, to have time to shave both legs and sometimes I need time with a good friend that makes my soul happy again. Sometimes and all too often, I choose the shower over the time chatting over coffee. I am not sure if it's a survival instinct or just temperament.

There's a sense of isolation that overcomes a new mom and a SAHM mom. Unlike old days before the Internet and cable TV, neighbors tend to keep to themselves. I hear when our parents were children, neighbors used to get together to watch TV. 

Whether it is because of safety concerns or what, I don't know. My former sweet neighbor, military babe that she was, was always out and social, perhaps her habit of moving every two years made her stronger and more apt to get out and get to know the world around her.  I cried for a week when she moved.

I am, however, barricaded by two Vietnamese women who are very kept to themselves. One, I was almost friends with, but even after all I can do, she won't talk to me. So much for team work.

One mom two doors down is almost my friend. I am trying to play it cool, but some days it's all I can do not to run up to her while we are waiting for our kids at the bus stop like a lost puppy finding its way home to say hello. Yes, if I had a tail, I'd be wagging it. Some days I am THAT desperate for conversation and quality time. Who knew that lady I talked to six years ago actually knew what she was talking about?

Funny, but true, sometimes as a SAHM, the deepest- -only conversation you may have all day will be the creepy photo guy at CVS saying "Thank you. Here's your change." Or, the woman at Starbucks might ask you if you want a receipt.

I will look forward all day for that five minutes of conversation with that neighbor. The other day she Facebook friended me and I played it cool. Didn't want to seem overzealous, but, honestly, I was estactic. 

I do talk to my good friends about 6-8 times a day, via text. I would LOVE to hear their voices on the phones, but they don't answer. You see, kids just don't let you talk on the phone and there's very little time to be on the phone, even if you are multitasking. But, a kind text, can save your day. It can be a lifeline in a sea of troubled waters.

I read a blog about four years ago that I'll never forget. The young new mom blogged about her first few months as a mom. She rode the subway. She rode the train to the zoo. She did all the fun things. And, there was the quote I'll always remember. She just boarded the train, three months after baby is born. She said, "I'll talk to ANYONE." It's funny. I find myself doing the same thing in doctor offices or in elevators when it gets down to just me and the other person.

So everyone tells you that when you become a SAHM you'll miss "adult conversation." I remember thinking "What's adult conversation? I don't like adults. I don't like people. They annoy me most days." 

But, adults can give you that voice of reason a toddler can not. When your kid is screaming, "I want that!!!!" and it's not a rational want, as they are pointing to a flying fish and you've done ALL you can do to say, "The fish is NOT real," another mom can talk you off the wall.

And, I've been on that wall a thousand times. Raising kids comes in phases. It gets better and then it gets harder. Thank God for the transitions in between. He knows our limits.

And, thank God for the friends that call and drag me out of the house. Some days all I want is my own cup of coffee (or hot cocoa so I can sleep later), a warm shower, my own remote with whatever on TV (something fluffy and nothing to do with work. Gossip is fine), and quiet. Like when Jenna from 13 Going on 30 just wants "Water and a fluffy pillow!!"

Last Saturday for my birthday, I snuck away and bought a People magazine and went to Starbucks for a sandwich and a coffee. It was magnificent. I read about Hollywood maybe marriages and birthdays. I ate quietly without managing a group of three merry little men beneath my feet. My mom kept calling me and worrying. She texted, "But, you're alone.. are you okay??" 

I was okay.  I was in bliss. It was remarkable. It changed my soul inside and out. Heck, after an hour alone, I felt like Hollywood royalty.

An hour later, of course, I called her back.

Seeing The Vow movie made me want to go back...

Seeing The Vow movie made me want to go back...

To work...or school...

Yes, weird. But, it made me want to go back to work.. even part time or something.. but how?  I don't know how. I already work part time from home.

I am searching to define me. Could this be a middle-life crisis? I don't know. But I am searching for something more than SAH mommy hood. The kids need me. As I write I remember one of my children is coughing and needs to go to the doctor. The other needs two cavities filled. Just tonight, I saw it. They need me to be home. They need me not to have to take a day off of work to care for them.

Why am I not fufilled in fufilling their needs?

They need me. I need to be here. Why do I feel lost?

I dabbled on the idea of trying to work evenings at the local paper. Stammering into their offices, slamming down my Journalism degree and experience...literally blowing off the dust on my resume.

I write as my oldest makes car noises at play time before bed. That's precious.

There I am again, trapped between both worlds as if it's all or nothing.

I shopped Friday on my own and it was hard to just look around and not think of them. I shopped and wondered about who I was and what girl I was shopping for. I can't dress me in work clothes and I am tired of t-shirts and jeans. I don't work, but yet, I don't want to dress for being home.

Who am I? Am I a working girl in transition? It's just a pause? In the movie, Paige searches for herself and her husband searches to find their marriage again. It's a cross between two worlds. She is no longer an artist, nor lawyer, nor lawyer turned artist.

After watching the film I wanted to go back to school and go back to work. I wanted to find ME again. I wanted to be like Paige, lost in a room smudging my hands in clay to reclaim the message trapped inside my soul.

She found her soul. She found her spirit in her art. I find me in my writing, but to conduct an interview I have to hide in a closet and hold the door shut while screaming kids pound on the door.

I know it's a blink and they are back in school. Perhaps this is just me being prepared for big change in two years. Maybe it's a good thing. I wanted to be home. I FOUGHT to be home. I interviewed dozens to find the reasons to stay home. I am convinced now I am a working mom that stays home. Heart here, mind over there..

I really wanted to be here. I just get lost sometimes between the two worlds.

Between the two mes.

Between the vows, the promises of who I was, who I am and who I think or want or will be.

Perhaps, it's about constant change. Things are always shifting. Like clothes on the shelf. Like mirror images and time that tramples over the reflections.

Like growing babes. And seasons of coughs and cavities. Appreciation is 20-20 and the soul is in need of constant recharging. And, the reflections of those moments can't be found by dusting off trophies. But, breaking up the artist in me certainly reshapes my soul too.

Internet lust

For the last two days I've been lusting over a Lucky Bourbon colored Abbey Road style crossbody handbag. It's stylish. It's "imported Italian leather." It's stitched and lays over like it's from the old ages. http://www.zappos.com/lucky-brand-abbey-road-bourbon

Perhaps it's just a touch of Italy. My secret DRIVE to move to Tuscany. Or it's a vacation to another side of me. An illusion of the non-mommy me. It's ME without the diaper bag. It's me falling in love with an illusion. I can be cute for just $178.  For $178 I can have this soft, stitched, rugged grandpa bag-looking-carry-along friend.

In fact, I visit it daily. It says "hello" on my Iphone and on my computer. I have also passed it along to friends and family members. And, I've searched for bags "just like it." But none have it's luster. None seem to tell it's story in the same way.

My parsimonious side reined. I've left the bag alone. And, I've settled for the teal Mossimo Target-brand tote for $30. It's not the $178 price tag of the Lucky bag and there's no guilt attached to spending. And, I can abuse it. It fits snugly. It's fine.

But, I lust over this silly purse. Last night I did my research and found the illusion was in fact, just that. The product is flawed.

The Lucky bag had 90 reviews. I read them all. Three people said their bags broke. Every reviewer considered the bag for a long time, some even years before buying it and "loving" it.

I did the same thing last night on the Victoria Secret website winter clearance section. Boots, for $30, not $148. But, minutes after I put them "in my cart," the size nine boots were "sold out." I considered it a sign to move on and not purchase the multiple "deals."

I was falling in love with an image. I was being seduced by the want to look like the woman in the pictures.  She is carefree. Beautiful. I can be her for just $30.

Last night I had a dream about an elevator. The elevator dream. I have this every time there's about to be a big change, a job change, a move or a difficult emotional time when I usually feel a lack of control.

Perhaps, that's why I am attracted to the Internet shopping sales or non-sales. It's an illusion of "control."  With one click, I can have that image. It's mine. So easy, right?

In this elevator dream I am trapped. A little like the real-life event when I was nine trapped inside the First Baptist Houston elevator for a long three minutes. The door just never opened. I agonized about whether to push the open door button for fear of seeing just machinery. Would that scare me more? I pushed door open and it opened. It was the most terrifying experience.

I didn't ride alone in elevators until I was in college. Even in the state history fair competition at a hoity toity Houston hotel, I asked a stranger to ride up to the 8th floor with me at the age of 12. I think the ghetto elevators at UH cured me. Fourteen floors a day with elevators that sometimes open and sometimes kindof glide to the next floor wore me down.

In the elevator dreams sometimes the elevator separates from the sides and collapses. Or sometimes it turns over in circles like that Zipper carnival ride. Another "great" childhood experience.

Either way I'm trapped, dealing with claustrophobic feelings and heights and the loss of control. In my dream I wasn't alone, but I was with a stranger. This is new.

Also, coincidentally,  in my dream alongside my elevator rides, Oprah was challenging her viewers to just jump over the mile-high roof tops without a net for ratings. The participants were stepping over a one-inch gap jumping from roof to roof. No net over a zillion-foot high building.  Cameras rolling.

So many layers here. Perhaps it's why I dyed my hair red. It's something. One thing, I can control.

Dreams are weird. Sometimes they reflect creative aspirations. The need to fly. Sometimes the need to have control, like the dream I had with my teeth falling out.

And shopping on the Internet is an illusion of control too. Yet, in one click and you've lost a day's pay. The joys are temporary. The moment fills you up for a moment. Then, you get the bill.

Internet lust. An illusion.  A moving crossbody window shop experience. An elevator experience of it's own. Up and down. Moving me to feel like, for a moment I am what I am not. A different floor with the touch of a button. Yet, when I get there, the view isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Today I am taking more time to see what I can see in me. Right here. Away from the illusions. An original imperfect perfection.

And, Tuscany, well, I can create that dream here too.