Mommy Means Business

Baby Shower Faux Pas

2011-10-04T11:26:00.000-07:00

I received a very nice invitation to a baby shower a few weeks back. Well designed with adequate information. Scheduled for September 25, 10:00am, hosted by the Mom-to-be's friend and mother, at the residence of one of my Hubbie's Aunts. RSVP regrets only. I opened the invite, placed it with a pile of other mail on my desk, that I needed to get to, and promptly forgot about it.

September 25 was that stunning summer-like day a few weeks back. And on that morning, Hubbie said 'Let's take one last boat ride.' We chose the river for a trip to Richmond for some ice cream and after quick showers and packing some lunch, we were on the water well before noon. Since we had launched in Bath and our destination took us up-river, we cruised the West side, slowing down in front of Mike's Aunt's house. (Did I mention she lives on the river?) We were all waves and smiles and she stepped outside onto the porch to reciprocate. I am shouting with the kids, "Hello, Nana! We love you - we miss you!...." waving like Jackie Kennedy and still not registering that this is the DAY and LOCATION of the Baby Shower. Bless Nana, as she smiled politely and waved back, while all the while probably wondering about the mad woman her nephew had married.

It must be said that we had an immensely enjoyable family day and for that I am of course grateful. But when I unearthed the invitation the following Wednesday while finally purging my desk, the flashback to that moment on the river left me feeling horribly embarrassed.

I did try to redeem myself, given the circumstances. I called Nana, who seemed to get a kick out of it and did confess "We thought you had probably just forgotten". And then I called the Mom-to-Be who also got a good laugh and seemed pretty jovial about it all.

Looking back now, it is pretty hilarious. And I now have a new appreciation for sorting through the mail on a routine basis!

Becoming Their Own

2011-08-31T07:39:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Nina boarded the school bus for her first day of second grade. Clad in a freshly pressed dress and her favorite sandals, she skipped across the road with barely a hint of a Good-Bye. I want her to be independent. And yet, when she shows these early signs of being just so, it pains the heart. It's funny, isn't it. On one hand, wishing for silence. Wishing for just 5 minutes of peace. Longing for a full 15 minutes of someone not needing something. And then, feeling the coldness of the void when, well, I am just not needed.

Sad but true. But that's what comes with being a Mom. The huge responsibility that is assigned by nature, the exhaustion that goes beyond comprehension - all par for the course of shaping our little ones into happy, confident beings. Those small signs independence, like MJ getting up to go pee by himself, and putting himself back to bed. And Nina's off-hand wave to me as she boldly strides across the road to pick a seat on the bus.

I am blessed to be friends with women who have raised multiple children. And who now have seen those children go off to college, start their own business, build homes and get married. Because my children are blossoming among the solid trees of THOSE children, I am happy.

Tooth Fairy

2011-07-27T19:06:00.000-07:00

Nina shook me awake at 3:45 am this morning, to tell me that she had rolled over and the tooth she had lost that day had been knocked from it's porcelain box and was somewhere in her bed. "Go back to bed, Nina..." I grumbled in half stupor. "But the fairy won't find it!" She insisted. And then it dawned on me. I had forgotten to take the tooth and leave the loot and the disturbance of my sleep was actually a blessing in disguise!

So in we go to her bedroom, lights turned on full beam, were she found the tooth in the sheets within 30 seconds. (Which was good considering my eyes were still barely slits) I got her settled back in with kisses and well wishes for sweet dreams.

But now I had to wait for her to go back to sleep, then wake up before her to do the deed. This also had to be orchestrated before little brother awoke, who, with his built-in-sonar, would undoubtedly hear the jingle of change being plopped in the tooth fairy box.

In the end, all worked out beautifully. I actually heard my watch alarm go off this time (my beckoning call for the gym) , snuck in her room, retrieved the tooth and filled the box with spare change without causing her so much as a stir. Even MJ stayed in slumber! Another near-miss on Fairy Duty thwarted!

Mother-of-the-year Award

2011-05-31T18:23:00.000-07:00

Contrary to the title of this month's blog, today demonstrated a not-so-classy approach to parenting. I must confess.

It all began yesterday afternoon when my mother-in-law called me to announce that Nina had projectile vomited all over their deck after drinking a 'sippy'. (My mother-in-law's endearing term for some Red #5 colored powder that comes in a little package - just add water) Grampa had already hosed off the evidence, and Grammie had cleaned Nina up. By bedtime she was spiking a fever of 103.3.

At sunrise, my girl was well-colored, chipper and hungry, no fever. Today was to be 'beach day' with her 1st grade class. And, not wanting to be a bad mother, I agreed if she held down her food and had no fever by lunch, we would venture down to bid adieu to her classmates. (Tomorrow is their last official day)

By noon, all looked good so we went to the beach for a few hours for a low-key lunch and a bit of play in the sand (no swimming). All seemed right with the world while driving home, until MJ, (hot and napless) started to have a meltdown because he wanted his window open instead of AC. When I did not go through with meeting his latest demand, he began pounding on the window with a steel model jet he had in his hand. I was terrified he had put his hand through the window. After the relief of not finding him covered in glass had passed, my fear turned into seeing red (this was perhaps the millionth time he had been told not to do that)... I pulled over, asked him to give me the jet, got out of the car and threw it into the woods.

Now of course this only heightened MJ's tantrum and Nina (always coming to bat for her brother despite his ill tempers) just exclaimed, "Mama!" This downshifted my emotion of anger to guilt, and I spent the next 15 minutes looking for the jet, to no avail.

Okay, so beach day was ending on a somewhat sour note and I had not exactly modeled anger management for my feisty four-year-old, who seems to be falling right in stride with Mama. But all was forgotten by the time we rolled in the door. Until Nina looked at me glassy-eyed and flushed and said "I'm freezing". A thermometer reading confirmed a 102.00 temperature.

In the course of 24 hours I took my sick girl to the beach and threw one of my son's favorite toys into the forest. So what did I do? I called MY Mom. And as we girls know to be true, no one can comfort your guilt and shame better than Mom. Be it through her own experience as a mother or well-meaning lies, she made me forgive myself, reminded me that tomorrow is another day, and added "I bet he'll never do it again".

In the end, Nina's temperature was moderated by Ibuprofen and she was tucked in with her latest pulled-tooth under her pillow, happily smiling at the prospect of the tooth-fairy. I laid with MJ in his race-car bed, his head tucked into my shoulder, until he fell asleep. Yes, tomorrow is another day.
Namaste'

Main Street

2011-04-29T11:59:00.000-07:00

I am shamelessly in love with downtown Bath. Walking the brick sidewalk this morning, MJ in stride with a yellow balloon, I was once again reminded what a tremendous gem it is. We parked the car to finish a transaction at Country Farm Furniture, strolled to Cafe Creme for a Latte and cookie, and said Hello to Joe from Reny's as he set out the sidewalk sale. Two men plucked guitars on a bench in the sun. The Spring breeze caught brightly colored garments outside Bohemian Rose. Shoppers, and business folk and a handful of tourists unite here with various errands. From souvenirs, to laundry baskets, to fondue pots there is a store for every need. We can park the car, do our banking, get a gift or two and stock the pantry. Unlike many of the tourist destinations of the coast, Bath is a lovely combination of the eclectic and the practical. It's not untouchable nor lofty nor snootish. It's industry, art, business and history and it works so well. So as we walked in the sun this morning I paid silent gratitude to those who make it all possible.
http://visitbath.com/

Will you accept this call?

2011-04-12T11:07:00.000-07:00

There must be a well-guarded secret about having a decent telephone conversation with the kids present. For anyone who has children, you know exactly what I mean. I could roller-skate naked through the living room with the TV on, and be ignored (this could go for spouses too), but let them get a whiff of my being on the phone and every possible want or need is urgent.

When I first had Nina I was gifted a Baby Einstein DVD and in it, are lots of little vignettes of Mommies home with the kiddos, looking freshly showered and slim, happily chatting on the phone or tapping on the computer while the cherubs play blocks nearby.

Over the last 7 years at the helm, I've tried to recreate that scene. There's zillions of articles and books that provide suggestions and I've tried nearly everything. One suggestion was to provide scissors, bits of scrap paper and those little round stickers that help reinforce notebook paper. " Give them to the kids and let them have at it while you make your call. " A brilliant idea for distracting them for a time, as long as cleaning up after the cat's new haircut and scraping stickers of the woodwork is in the schedule for the afternoon.

Another tip was to simply ignore them. A pragmatic approach of not taking the bait. Fearless MJ just gets louder and more demanding, Nina becomes a cling-on quietly but consistently pulling on my clothes saying "Mama, Mama, Mama....but it's REALLY important"

Preparation is key. Everyone peed? check. Had their snack? check. Have something to do? Check. And then the pep talk. Eye contact a must. "Mommy has a business call to make.... I need you to be quiet until I am done...understand?"...the nodding of heads and "yes Mama, we understand." I am totally convinced they do understand and want to please at the time. But there seems to be something hard-wired within their cute little brains that sends the "I need Mommy" signal that they just can't help.

And time-outs, rewards, preparation and even bribery can't seem to intercept their impulse to interrupt.

So this morning when I had to talk to our financial advisor I turned on Curious George and stocked MJ with a cup of dry cereal. That afforded me ten minutes or so I needed and everyone was happy. In the end, 'plugging them in' and awarding with food worked for me, despite what the parenting magazines advise. Mj was out slogging in the mud with his dump truck within the half hour and I had another 'to do' checked off my list.

What is your secret?

2011-03-28T18:38:00.000-07:00

The headlines to the advertisements on my Facebook Profile read: "Dr. Oz Diet - Lose 9lbs", a recipe promoting "Gooey Butter Cookies" and another for "Chunky Soup". Oh, and a video trailer for the "Belly Fat Detox Diet". Seems that as a result of the high-tech number-crunching in the underworld of social network marketing, I am a yo-yo dieting junkfood junkie. Not necessarily an uncommon demographic, I suppose.

It's no great mystery that each and every one of us is a moving target for those wanting to sell us something. Consider the infamous 'courtesy cards' from supermarkets and retailers. I just bought a new wallet to house them all. The drug store, book store, department store, restaurants. All to be on-hand so we can have the "courtesy" of getting the "cheaper" price. And the fact all these retailers know our purchasing history really freaks me out at times. I think I'm going to get coupons for diapers and wipes until MJ is 10. Something fun to do could be to swap cards with some of your friends to see what coupons are spit out. Or even your spouse (mine carries his own). Hmmmm, a bouquet of flowers with your next purchase of Godiva chocolates, Hunnie? Explain please.

Another thing I don't get is why bringing your own shopping bag is so important when the receipt for my purchases equals about a cord of pulp wood? But I digress.

One of my favorite movies from the 80's is Mr. Mom. And one of the best scenes is when Michael Keaton is sitting around the table with other Moms, playing poker and drinking beer betting coupons. I've seen that movie a dozen times and still laugh out loud.

Have you ever felt feisty and fibbed about your birthdate when 'registering' with an online shopping site? Like registering as an 65 year-old retired male accountant whose interests include gaming, the rodeo and Bingo. It's a terrific reminder to find the humor in the exploitation of our personal interests. Or at least in what is perceived to be so.

From the Mouths of Babes

2011-03-07T19:00:00.000-08:00

I was covertly watching an altercation between Nina and MJ a few weeks back. With personalities as different as night and day, a disagreement can either be pretty amusing or horrifying. The disputes usually revolve around someone touching someones matchbox cars, or denuding someone else's Polly-Pocket-Dolls. Reasons best left for them to figure out, and for Mom to not intervene. But in this fight, Mj was using some force that didn't set well with me and Nina was cowering back in tears....

While MJ was in his timeout, I comforted Nina. "Don't let anyone push you around like that" I say in all my wisdom, "especially boys - they are no smarter than girls".

"What about Papa?" Says Nina. "What about Papa?" I ask.

"Isn't he smarter than you?"

Amazingly, I was dumbstruck into silence for a few seconds. Not really sure if I was going to fall over laughing or launch into a full-blown lecture on the history of the Women's Movement. But I stayed calm and did the best I could.

"Papa does many things very well that Mama does not, " I say, "But Mama is good at many things too. It does not mean that Papa is smarter than Mama."

Nina ponders this for a few moments, brightens up a bit and then starts listing my talents... "Oh yeah! You are good at things too, Mama! You are really good at doing the dishes....and doing the laundry.... and giving us good things to eat!"

Now I'm barely concealing a laugh and I give her a hug and thank her for noticing my 'smartness'. Of course, I later recount the whole thing to Hubbie and express my concerns that perhaps I'm not being a strong-enough role model for Nina. His opinion was that I was reading into it too much.

Perhaps so. But it has my eyes open to how strongly our actions do model for our children. Nina does not see me at the office supporting our business, nor has she shadowed me all that much in my photography. But my hope is that in time she finds power within the love, comfort and stability that this 'domestic diva' tries to impress upon her. (And also, that she develops a good left hook the next time her brother tries to push her around:)

Quintessential vs Essential Maine

2011-02-03T09:50:00.000-08:00

There's been lots of talk lately about snow. When will it stop? When will Spring come? What's up with our governor not declaring a State-of-Emergency? Being a Maine girl, and an inland one at that, I find myself chuckling at the sudden loss of 'romance' with Maine when it comes to actually having to deal with the weather. I can spot them a mile away. Usually the folks scurrying along on all-season radials, throwing caution to the wind on the speed limit, with a two-foot pile of snow on the roof of their car. Determined and in denial, with two peep-holes hastily scoured from the ice on their windshield.

To be sure, there are many inconveniences that even I can't wait to lose. Trying to get MJ into a snowsuit is like dressing a bag of cats. And poor Hubbie has been a slave to plowing and roof-raking.

But there is a deep sense of self-sufficiency that arises when one embraces the elements. I love driving up to our home and seeing the front porch covered in shovels, snowshoes, and gas cans for the generator. I adore my kids for wanting to stay out and play under the lights, barely breaking stride even for hot cocoa. I respect the power of nature and its ability to make us stop our crazy quest for perpetual motion.

There is more snow in the forecast for Saturday. There will be more hype, more grumbling, more inconveniences. But in the end, it's Maine at its best.

A Darker Side?

2011-01-25T07:10:00.000-08:00

A few nights ago, I found myself laying flat on the living room floor watching a documentary about Metallica. And not in any half-tuned in manner either. I mean I was checked out, in a twilight-zone, no blinking zomboidism way the kids get when anything to do with Nick Jr. is on the screen. Yep, for a full-hour I followed the rags-to-riches alchohol-induced rise to fame the band is notorious for. Not that I have anything against Metallica. I even have one of their CD's and 'Unforgiven II' is loaded on my Ipod. But the fact I am a middle-aged Mom who enjoys public radio and tea, (and okay, wine too) just strikes me as kind of hilarious.

Not to mention it was once again one of the nights I was going to get caught up on the laundry, (really, this time! put away and everything!) do a long Yoga Practice and post to my blog.

I've let the cursor blink for a good two minutes now trying to find the best way to understand why a show about a heavy metal band kept me from my well-intentioned goals.

Maybe I have a dark side; perhaps it's because the ramped up, full-on rawness of the music brought me back to those adrenaline-rushed days of a younger me, or it's simply because it was a great story.

Either way, it was awesome to just be caught in the moment of something that required no input from me. No one needed a drink, no one needed their butt wiped, no company was expecting a return call. I was 'plugged in' yet totally off-the grid.

I think we all need that and don't need to explain why. What is your 'dark side' and where does it take you?

Multi-tasking Mama

2011-01-04T08:21:00.000-08:00

In living the fine balance between managing our office, and managing the home, it seems like little excursions for oneself, while they happen, are often guilt-ridden. Take going to the Salon, for example. When I only have two 5 hour days to work at our office, taking two hours away to wash out the grays seems a little indulgent.

I was talking about this the last time I sat in the chair. And then my stylist, the epitome of the super Mom/ Entrepreneur herself, reminded me she had wireless!

Not that I mind reading about Brad and Angelina's latest kid, or Octomom's latest tussle with the law, but let's be practical. I made a mental note: next trip to salon, bring laptop!

So as I write today, getting beautified and enjoying a coffee in the best Salon in town, I just finished running payroll, getting it on the books, and managing emails!

It's another perfect day in the balance.

Mommy Means Business: The Great Purge

2010-12-28T09:00:00.000-08:00

Mommy Means Business: The Great Purge: "Nina told me over breakfast this morning that her least favorite store is 'Goodwill', and that it should be named 'Badwill'. MJ, who h..."

The Great Purge

2010-12-28T08:59:00.000-08:00

Nina told me over breakfast this morning that her least favorite store is 'Goodwill', and that it should be named 'Badwill'. MJ, who had quietly been eating his cereal, chimed in "Yeah, I hate Goodwill, and so does Tanie!" Tanie is the imaginary friend and his partner in crime.

Nina took me by surprise because before Goodwill moved to Topsham it was always in the top 3 'favorites'. She once bought a princess castle for 99 cents that provided hours of play until it's demise in the hands of her little brother.

Seems she was disappointed about the car-full of stuff we purged from her room 2 days ago. Which, by the way, she enthusiastically helped me with. Turns out she was having second thoughts, and here she was, levelling with me over corn chex that my brilliant idea of a 'closet purge' was not so brillant.

Nina, by nature, is very giving. Always willing to help, busying herself with various works of art for others and often making sure little friends always leave with something after a visit. Seems like giving up a few stuffed animals was simply too close-to-home.

We had talked about it before it happened. And it wasn't just toys. Mostly clothes, old baby supplies, and a breast pump (nope, won't be needing that anymore) We cleaned like fiends; organized. Rejoiced in the freshness and starkness of the closet. I felt liberated upon completion. She repeatedly opened her closet doors and admired her Christmas gifts in their new places on the shelves.

Ultimately, Nina agreed that giving our previously-loved possessions was all part of the continuous spirit of 'giving'. That it continues beyond Christmas. And yes, that having 'alot of stuff' isn't all there is to happiness.

The closet purge reminds me to approach these conversations and efforts with caution. It is a balance between letting kids be kids, while fostering a spirit of sharing. Michael's room is next. I hope Tanie doesn't come.

2010-12-21T09:34:00.000-08:00

As I was dipping pretzel rods into melted white chocolate a few moments ago, I recalled a conversation with my husband's Grandmother a few years back. I had just had MJ, and Nina was 3 and hubbie was managing our business non-stop to support us all. At the time, MJ was coming to work with me so I could nurse him in between doing payables and payroll, and Nina was at the sitters. I was a 40-year old Mom coming to grips with the concept of 'balancing' work, kids and domestic duties.

Now Charlotte, 88 at the time, is a class act. Having raised 6 kids, one who is handicapped, and helping run their farm for many years, lets just say I respect her opinion. Which is probably what I was fishing for. But, like I said, she is a class act. So she politely nodded and smiled and listened to my drama until I finally came to.

"I am so sorry, Charlotte, listening to me, having only two children, and you having raised six. You must think I am a sissy". And without a beat she answered, "No, honey, just sensible".

Well, I dont' know about sensible, but her comment penetrated my memory. I think she identified that every one's struggle is suited to the times. That child-rearing in her generation was physically and financially difficult, in a predominately man's world.

And while my generation has made great strides in technology, economy and the whole women's movement, raising kids, 2 or 6 or 1 is still work.

Her statement was likely nothing deeper than an acknowledgement that having 2 is smarter than 6, but to me, the wisdom in her simple statement was much more.

Being a mother is work, yet work, if you love it, is thrilling. And hence the philosophy behind the Title of my blog. To me, being a mother and running a household in this modern age is no dissimilar that pursuing a liberating career. And there is so much to draw from the wisdom of women who were in our shoes years ahead of us.

So the fact that I am "only making snacks" for a Christmas party for Nina, when I could still be at the office is moot. I will make them with pride and love and enjoy every little sprinkle-covered smile that enjoys them!

The Beginning

2010-12-20T10:47:00.000-08:00

Okay, so why am I starting my very own blog when the remnants of lunch fester on the counter and those priceless nap-minutes tick away before I meet my oldest off the bus? Because it's Christmas-time and I promised to keep it simple this year!

My guess and hope is that anyone reading my blog is in the same boat. Despite all goals of buckling down to really get this-and-that done when the 3-year old is sleeping, the fact is, a little self-indulgent 'You Time' is an elixir for the season.

I am excited about the blog. I have plans. I want to explain the Title, add photos and dig-in. But, alas, ham and cheese don't fare so well at room temperature and I have a checkbook to balance.

In closing for today, I wish the utmost peace, joy and pure happiness to all. And thanks, especially, to Mom, who despite the approach of my 44th Birthday, has consistently encouraged me to expand my writing. Smooches to you, Mom.