Category Archives: Motherhood

Just me, Migraine, Motherhood

Morning has broken.

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The alarm intrudes on my nightly peace and as I drift into consciousness the ever present pulsing in my brain increases in intensity until the only desire I have is to stay in bed. Forever.

Must sit up.

Standing and facing the morning has become the hardest part of my day.  For some as-of-yet-undiscovered reason my migraines are at their worst in the morning.  Once I get up and moving, they begin to ease a little, leaving some room for thought, emotion, and even a laugh or two.  I remind myself of this as my temples experience another stab from an invisible ice pick.

Must put feet on floor.

The sound of the birds chirping outside is just this side of unpleasant, the musical notes sharp enough to set off my phonophobia.  Breathe, drink water, find the ibuprofen next to the bed. I often wonder how long it will be before my liver is the one to protest.

Must stand and dress.

Okay. I’m up and dressed. Now it’s time to turn on the hideous and invasive light and wake up the children.  There will be whining. The whining will penetrate my skull and rattle around inside my head. Don’t snap, don’t yell, just breathe.

It’s time to wake up dearest.  It’s time to get on with our day.

The fuss and fretting associated with a school day morning distracts me from my throbby companion.  I find socks, make lunches, sign forgotten forms, and answer the repeated incredulous questions about having to go to school today.  I bundle them in the car, we leave.  The bank of dark clouds on the horizon bodes ill for saying goodbye to the headache today.  It seeks refuge from storms like these. Perhaps it is afraid of thunder.

At school there is hugging and snuggling and kisses goodbye.  There are reminders about handing in forms and well wishes for a lovely day.  As always they both hope I feel better soon.  As always, I tell them I am sure I will and I smile.

By the time I return home the ibuprofen will have eased the headache some, the movement and motion will have done more.  I have the chance to work, to chat with my parents and to live my life.  I will work out for several hours today, intermittently.  The only medication that seems to send the headache packing is my own exertion.  By the time I go to sleep tonight, my legs will ache from the amount of time I have spent on the exercise bike.

Tomorrow I will do it all again.

Monkey, Motherhood, Otter

Flying hand syndrome…

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Tonight I found myself thinking about how much better a mother I seem to be when I am not working 40+ hours a week.

I don’t mean I am a better mother because I am spending more time with my children. I think working mothers can absolutely spend enough quality time with their kids and quite often do a better job of focusing on that than I do when I am home all the time. I mean that I am more patient with my children when I am not thinking about three gazillion things waiting out in the other room for me to deal with.

I came to this realization tonight when I started to get impatient with my sweet baby boy at bedtime. He had developed the “flying hand syndrome”, that bedtime things kids do to stay awake when you finally get them to lie down and be quiet. Otter will lie still and tap his finger rhythmically on the pillow, or pull at his forelocks, or fly his hand slowly back and forth across the backdrop of his comforter. Monkey did it too, this litany of sleep preventatives invented by brilliant children with too much “letter of the law” in them to outright rebel at bedtime, thereby necessitating an arsenal of subversive sleep avoidance behaviors.

These behaviors drove me crazy when Monkey did them but hadn’t bothered me with Otter until very recently. Tonight I figured out why.

When Monkey went through her subversive sleep resistence phase I was in college and would wait until she had gone to bed to whip out my books and study for hours on end. Every time I put her to bed there was this looming list of “to do’s” waiting for me. Each tap of the finger, every rhythmic tick of the foot, each little hum drove me into a state of intense frustration as I analyzed exactly how much less time I had to get back to my school work.

With Otter I just giggled at his obvious attempts to stay awake. I found them charming and cute. I enjoyed them until I went back to work full-time and began depending on the post bedtime hours for my law practice. Then suddenly each baby hand flight path chopped off valuable time from my night’s billable hours. I began to get cranky and frustrated and unhappy with our normal bedtime routine. This impatience resulted in less quality time at bedtime. It resulted in a less comforting and comfortable mommy presence helping the little ones drift off to sleep.

To be completely honest with myself I should be cherishing these little moments. I should love each minute spent snuggled against a soft baby body awaiting the even uninterrupted ebb and flow of sleeping baby’s breath. I know how fleeting this time is. I am completely aware of how soon he will leap up and get too busy to snuggle his mom, I have already undergone that transition with my daughter.

In reality my days dealing with this problem are numbered. Time will march on and my baby will find new and creative ways to delay bedtime that don’t include soft snuggles. Why am I letting myself view these precious times as impositions? The soft dusky moments spent at bedtime are the times I have been working for. I should be viewing the things that take me away from them as the impositions.

So my goal is to let go of the sense of urgency and simply enjoy my time with little Otter as he tries all the weapons at his disposal to delay bedtime. I am lucky that most of them involve sloppy baby kisses, soft pats, and quiet giggles.

frustration, Motherhood

Oh how my standards have fallen…

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  • I used to swear my children would only watch thirty minutes of educational television a day.
  • I promised myself they would have endless supplies of paint, modeling clay, and paper.
  • I swore my children would spend at least an hour outside in the sun, engaging in active play.
  • I promised to feed them whole meals comprised of fruits, veggies, dairy, and protein, and to only provide them with wholesome snacks.
  • I swore I would only drink fresh brewed coffee and eat organic foods so I would be energetic and healthy enough to keep up with my children.

Then I started a business.

Now I sit before you with the same cup of yesterday’s coffee that I have had to reheat three times already because I turned the television off after an hour and a half of brain-numbing crap cartoons and made the children play.

Since turning off the television they have gotten into twelve arguments over toys, all of them have come crying to me about being pushed or falling down at least twice, and the floors are sticky because they amused themselves by dripping juice from the “spill proof” sippy cups I gave them. Right now they are coloring in the living room, but eventually they will start fighting over the crayons.

Soon I will make macaroni and cheese for their lunch and turn back on the television so they will eat in peace. Then I will reheat yesterday’s coffee for a fourth time, consume a quickly cooked hot dog, and reflect on how peaceful the house is when I embrace my fallen standards.