Next Meeting!

Hi All!

The next meeting is this Thursday, March 26 at 7 pm at Cafe Vino (on College Avenue). Please join us!

Elisabeth

Loss of Sense of Self

I used to be a New Yorker. I used to be an OB/GYN who worked 80 hours per week. I used to be able to go away for the weekend. Now, I am a suburban mother of two children, a dog, and a mouse. And a wife. I used to work in SOHO, wear high heels, make money, and meet friends for drinks in hipster bars. I used to live in a one bedroom apartment where I could see the Empire State building if I leaned out the window and really craned my neck. Now, I have a house, a laundry machine, a dishwasher, a car, a stroller, two car seats. I used to be able to carry on adult conversations. People would ask me what I did and what I thought. Now, I am invisible.

Having a family is wonderful, I don't need to tell you that. Even so, I still mourn the loss of my former self. My designed, planned, manicured self. I have given that up for a life of drop offs and pick ups and part-time underpaid work. There are days when I don't shower or get dressed - I just throw on my clogs and a ponytail and head out of the door, rushing to get to school on time. There are days when I want to scream because I haven't read a book without pictures or left the house or gone to the gym.

There are also days that I sit around the dinner table and look at the amazing people that I live with. The girl who thanks me for combing her hair and wants to give me a kiss. The boy who only wants me to put him to bed. The man who says thank you for keeping the family organized and the house together. The woman who has become the accountant, cleaning service, chauffeur, personal shopper, chef, teacher, and artist. For as much as I have lost my old sense of self I have gained many new ones.

I will never be who I once was was prior to this great adventure but I will try to love who I have become. I will not get paid in money or prestige but in kisses, hugs, and the satisfaction of watching everyone grow and learn and become. I know I have sacrificed a lot, but I also know that I have traded that for a home and a place of belonging. And I will hang on to a piece of my prior sense of self when I am able to carve out time for me. I will do this for me.

Elisabeth

Mom Blunder

Last month I committed the ultimate mom blunder. I forgot to send my son’s class picture order form and money with him to school on class picture day. Not only did I forget to send the money and the all-important envelope, but I also forgot to dress him in anything decent. He was wearing a beat up white t-shirt with black bats on it, with teeth marks on the collar, where he takes his shirt into his mouth and bites on it while playing video games. The result of him biting on the collar is that the neck is stretched out and tattered and looks like it is permanently starched with saliva. The entire outfit looked kind of vampire-like with the bats, and worn out vampire-like at that.

He tells me this news as I pick him up from school in the afternoon. He greets me at the car with an accusatory, “Mom, you forgot the picture order form and money!” Wow, what else have I forgotten this week? My mind starts racing. “Am I supposed to send something to school for your Valentine’s party on Friday?” I ask him. “Well, other moms are sending cupcakes and cookies and drinks, but we probably have enough that you don’t need to send anything,” he answers. I think he is trying to cover for me.

“Are you getting Alzheimer’s?” he asks.
“No!” I answer back. “There is just too much in my brain right now”.

He is accustomed to the mom who always has the healthy snack packed in the backpack, all permission slips properly signed and returned on time, and definitely never forgets the picture form and money. How could this have happened? My seemingly controlled existence is crumbling. My brain is on overload and suddenly I am suspected of having Alzheimer’s. All I want to do is cry.

It occurs to me that I am no longer just a person. I am the supreme organizer and carrier of all important information for my family. The human encyclopedia of dates and times, the keeper of who needs to be where and when and what they need to take with them. If someone forgets their homework or their lunch or their shoes, it is somehow my fault that they have failed to have these items with them.

Most days I do pretty well in this role as supreme organizer. Other days, like this particular class picture day, I fail miserably in my duties. Some days I simply want to walk out of the house without taking care of any details for anyone and try to remember back to the day when I was not the master extraordinaire of all family stuff.
Today I opened my son’s backpack and the dreaded class picture was inside. I almost cringed as I opened the envelope, hoping to see him in the back row with his body blocked from view by the biggest kid in the class. No such luck. There he is in the front row with a big smile on his face, proudly standing front and center, with the ugly beat up bat shirt on. I look closer to examine it, and realize that you can’t even see the teeth marks on the collar. What you can see is his smile that is a mile wide. Maybe I didn’t fail after all.

Peggy

Nothing Like Samson

As a second time mother, I clearly remember some of the pitfalls that occur during the first few months of motherhood; the lack of sleep, the dramatic change in lifestyle, the loss of your sense of self. First time moms are caught by surprise but after that, you know what to expect when it comes to finding balance in your role. Or so you think.

After my first son was born, I was quickly sucked into Mommyhood. I was his mother first and foremost, everything else took a backseat. I was busy in the routine of breast feeding, diaper changing, cleaning up spit up, not showering, not working out, not taking care of myself and not paying much attention to anything else. The first sign that I was loosing Me was when I flipped out over my husband making a trip to Home Depot after work to pick up some screws. After being housebound with nothing to do, that trip without me was as if he went out for a steak dinner and I was left home with Spaghettio's. The next sign was when we moved to Fort Collins and he had plans to go to a concert with our brother-in-law. I was LIVID that here I was - at home taking care of the house and our baby while he was working and then he had the freedom to run off to party at night. In that very heated argument that night, he said the words that needed to be said. "You need friends". So true.

That night I joined a moms group and it forever changed my life. I got ready for activities on almost a daily basis (showered and put on make up!), made friendships that will last a lifetime and with workout partners, I found my gym mojo again. I found Kristin once again and tried my best to keep it that way by writing, cooking, working out and many other interests.

One thing I began to notice was that the pendulum was swinging in the opposite direction this time around after my second son was born. I was determined not to let myself go, to get lost in motherhood. I made it a point to be dressed and presentable most nights when Bill came home from work. You'd think the only thing missing was my heels and pearls. I started working out as soon as I could so I could get back into decent shape. I started cooking the family dinners again and decorating the house. I did not want to be a frumpy house wife with two kids, even from the get go. But, it slowly started to happened again and all it took to realize this was a hair cut.

Not too long ago, my husband purchased some time for me to visit a salon in town so I could get my hair done. Without his effort, I would have continued on my ragamuffin ways until God knows when. All I know is that I wouldn't have made the time for myself, let alone the financial commitment. I had my appointment in the morning, leaving my baby with him (awake!) for the first time since he's been born.

Fortunately, I wasn't that far gone but now I see that I was beginning to slip. It was a chore to get out of the door to workout and it had been that way for quite some time. My husband took on the personal trainer attitude and literally guilted me out of the door on an almost nightly basis. I was still going out with friends and got myself ready for activities with the kids. I still made major efforts in our marriage. However, I think if I was left to my own devices, we would have had many more pajama days than we did.

After the stylist handed me the mirror, I could not wipe the goofy grin off my face if I tried. I was thrilled. Not because I liked the cut (even though I love it), but because I realized that after 24/7 pony tails for months on end, I was starting to lose sight of Me. I was once again lost in focusing on everyone else - being the "wife", the "mom", the "personal trainer", but not taking much time for "me". Seeing the pile of hair on the floor was shocking. I had been neglecting myself for much longer than I thought.

I’m lucky that all it took was a simple hair cut this time, but it sure was eye opening on how quickly you can get lost focusing on so many other people and forgetting about your Self.



Kristin

Next Meeting!

Hi Mamas!

Thanks to Peggy and Kristin for the meeting today!!! AND thanks to to Kristina for trying to make the meeting!!!

Our next meeting is set for Thursday March 26 at 7pm. Location to be announced. Contact me for details. I will post a meeting place when we have decided. Our next topic is the evolution of motherhood and relationship changes due to motherhood.

Happy Writing!
Elisabeth

Loss of Sense of Self

My husband used to ask our child-blessed friends which was harder, going from one to two or two to three. I always wanted three. The general consensus was that once you have two, adding more was easy.

I had sailed through college, worked several years including two abroad, entered grad school and married soon after, all along nurturing a horde of hobbies: photography, guitar, hiking, Japanese, on went the list. I held onto my dream in the face of infertility and when I defended my master's thesis eight months pregnant, life was good.

True, I did not like holding, smelling, hearing, or even looking at babies. "It'll be different when it's your own," I'd been told. But countless hours spent in my blue rocking chair, bedroom door shut, weepy eyes studying a tiny suckling infant, heart aching desperately to love her with a fierce maternal bond did not make it so. I was a babysitter and not even a good one.

I lost myself in those postpartum months. Yet in the dark cocoon of depression I was being forever transformed. When at last I spread my butterfly wings to soar, I found joy and freedom and beauty in the flight. I discovered the depth of a mother's love. I became a mom.

My third child was born this year, and I am happy. My whiteboard pen has been replaced by a feeding spoon, book pages by baby wipes, guitar picking fingers plucking cheerios from linoleum. Though at times I cast a wistful glance at the box of watercolors or the shelf of gourmet cookbooks, I am content to stash them away for a season of life that has redefined me. And I know that if I am ever asked whether it's harder going from one to two or two to three, I will have to say that my greatest challenge was going from zero to one.

Kristina Lim