Prior to becoming a mother I worked for a large telecommunications corporation securing easements and service agreements.  Yes, definitely as exciting as it sounds.  But, on the upside my performance was measurable.  Doing well = signed contracts = commission.  Hard work paid off quite literally.

As a graduate student, my work is also measurable.  There's that thesis in the not so distant future, papers and grades, as well as how well I "perform" in discussions. 

This week I've been thinking about how motherhood doesn't have the same sort of measurable results.  There are results, but not in accessible, black and white terms.  Yes, I had a hand in the fact that the baby is in the 95 percentile for weight and height, but so did genetics.  Yes, my three-year-old daughter can sing Old MacDonald in tune, as well as various Ingrid Michaelson songs, but is that necessarily impressive?  I have a vague notion that most of the time I'm doing fine with the motherhood gig, but where's the proof?  My mother-in-law, bless her heart, always tells me I'm doing a good job when she sees the girls, but since the kids are individuals, little people with souls of their own, I scarcely feel like I can take credit for their health. 

Quite frequently I feel like a hamster in an exercise wheel on auto-pilot, particularly during the weeks when I have a lot going on with school.  These are the weeks where my time is parceled out quite strictly, with the exception of taking care of the girls.  They take priority over everything else.  They ultimately dictate the ebb and flow, and like water, fill in the cracks of any spare spaces of time. So, obviously they are the most important responsibility or "project" I have simmering. And yet, the job comes without a performance review.

There are days of epic failure where I doubt my effectiveness as a mother.  I can only measure my ability sometimes by the number of tantrums, the lost battles over fruits and veggies, and the frequency and depth of how I lost my cool.  Those days I wonder what the hell I was thinking when I put those birth control pills on the shelf for a month or two.

But, I suppose, like any great love in life, we can't put numbers or measurables on them.  Just like the Mastercard ad campaign, it's just "priceless".  The good, the bad, they're all rapidly moving moments that we just do our best with. 

My daughter had her first ballet recital over the weekend.  A couple weeks ago they released "hair and make-up instructions", and I went into a mild panic over having to apply blue eye shadow and red lipstick to a three-year-old.  I've always considered myself antithetical to the typical "Beauty Pageant Mom".  But, I got over the fear of making her look like Jon Benet or a tart in a tutu.  I also got over the feeling that the recital was strictly a blatent act of wallet-fattening by the studio. In fact, when she came off the stage at her first performance I felt a swell of pride and irrepressible excitement.  By the last performance on Saturday I felt butterflies of anticipation as I saw her take her mark on the dark stage.  I wasn't alone as I saw other mothers grasp their daughters in almost frenzied embrace after the performances, as if they had just finished dancing Coppelia with the Joffrey, not a three-minute number executed with the clumsy-footing and lack of self-consciousness only Pre-Schoolers can pull off.  It was then that it dawned on me that I may have broken a promise I had made to myself.  I had vowed to not project myself onto her, and based on the depth of emotion I felt, it seemed suspiciously like I was doing just that. 

Part of the joy of parenthood is living vicariously through your children.  Seeing the world with their fresh perspective can be healthy for everyone.  But, pursuing a life through them and making choices that reflect your desires versus theirs is the dark side of it.  It's a fine line sometimes.  How much of it is pride in your children and how much is your own unfullfilled dreams?  Only a therapist's couch can answer that.  I suppose that we'll all be okay as long as I remember that while she came from me, she's also separate from me, and that her independence will continue to grow just as my love for her deepens with time.  When I consider it that way, it feels rather bittersweet.

I had forgotten the intensity of mothering a new baby.  There are these chaotic moments when the baby is crying, I'm dying for a drink of water, the phone is ringing, my Pre-K-er needs help in the bathroom, and suddenly I realize the dryer has been full of clean (and now extremely wrinkly) clothes for three days.  It just seems like nothing gets done, despite all my best efforts to keep me and the other humans alive and well.  Plus, between me and my three-year-old the raw emotion quotient can skyrocket, particularly on days when my husband - the XY equalizer - is traveling for work. 

I have wisened up from when my older daughter was an infant though.  This go-around the daily shower, the occasional western bacon cheeseburger, and online retail therapy are utterly non-negotiable.  I know I need these things as sure as air, water, and diet coke.  But other decisions seem less clear and rather nebulous. If I get a two-hour child-free window on Saturday afternoon, how do I spend it?  By myself on a run or just browsing a bookstore?  With a girlfriend for mental therapy?  Or with my husband, who it seems, I have not had a complete conversation with for a few months? There is so much to do when I get my brief, psuedo release from motherhood.   

I've also been planning my graduate courseload this fall, and I'm torn.  There are classes I want to take, but when I sit down to arrange childcare I feel this twinge of sadness that I'll be away from the girls.  In trying to have my cake and eat it too, I'm finding myself emotionally split. 

My husband reminded me yesterday that one day our daughters will be older, and rolling their eyes when I try to tell them a story about Cinderella making blueberry pie, and wanting to be in contact with their peers 24/7 instead of me...and I will miss these days when they are small, sweet dictators who need so much all the time.  He is right, and when he mentioned this my eyes involuntarily tear-ed up.  It could have been my hormones, but deep down I think it's because as hard as it is right now, it's exactly where I want to be.

Surviving these days with...
my mother's hands-on support
my husband's emotional support
my friends offering an amalgum of humor, perspective, and yes, support
my breastpump
a case of dwindling diet coke
online retail therapy

Could use...
a little less spit-up
at least one more arm and hand
more sleep...in 4-5 hour blocks

Grateful for....
a quiet moment alone at my desk, on the internet, with a bag of m&m's that I'm not sharing with child or husband.

I used to consider myself the consummate multi-tasker...that was until my husband left on a business trip Monday and I was left alone with our two kids for the first time for a few days/nights.  Pop Quiz - Your preschooler decides she has to use the potty right when your newborn desperately wants to nurse - who needs you more?  The day is filled with these kinds of questions that have no correct answer, but might result in more clean-up later, crying, frustration, or all of the above.

Truthfully though, going from 1 to 2 is infinitely easier than going from 0 to 1. Others may disagree, but I've been surprised by my utter calm within the eye of the storm.  Turns out I know what the hell I'm doing.  So far so good.

Baby hand

2 comments

One of my Vox neighbors posted tonight about how Kenneth Starr and the Prop 8 Legal Defense Fund "filed legal briefs defending the constitutionality of Prop 8 and attempting to forcibly divorce 18,000 same-sex couples that were married in California last year".  It's going before the state Supreme Court next week. Can I dislike Kenneth Starr anymore than I already did?  Signs point to yes.  If you care at all about civil rights, go here: http://www.couragecampaign.org/Divorce and sign the electronic petition before March 2.  Can you imagine legally marrying and then half a year later not being married simply because a group decided they didn't think you should be?

On a completely unrelated note, I'm going to focus on a person that I do think is brilliant.  I've become a diehard Jhumpa Lahiri fan.  Seriously, all of her books have been amazing, but her latest is particularly so:

Unaccustomed Earth: Stories (Vintage Contemporaries)

Jhumpa Lahiri

....does this scare anyone else?

DingDingDing!

1) I feel like pregnancy has robbed me of my mind. I'm reduced to complaining about my kumquat-sized bladder, outgrowing maternity clothes, and how I'm eating everything in sight, then getting wicked heartburn.

2) Satsuma mandarins are local and in season and I'm consuming them at an alarming rate.  If Veruca Salt turned round and blue, it's only a matter of time before my skin becomes orange, and not from a spray-tan gone awry.

3) I see people running and I'm jealous.  This will be really funny when I actually do get to run in a few months and will be in complete and utter agony, hating every tortured moment as my lungs attempt respiration and my dormant muscles try to contract.

4) I have a Facebook stalker.  A woman whose name I vaguely recognize added me as a Friend.  After I looked at her profile I figured out I had gone to high school with her.  But, and I am quite certain about this, I've never in my life had a conversation with her or had friends in common.  So, I declined her request.  Then, a day later she tried to add me again. I don't know whether to decline her again or just leave her request in limbo. 

5) Feeling strangely distant and uninterested with the Inauguration.  Probably due to the fact that my usual enthusiasm for American politics was restrained, even throughout most of the election*.

6)  Otherwise, it's just business as usual.  Too much to do, too little time, though I'm still taking afternoon naps most days, just because if I don't A) I will OD my fetus on caffiene or B) I will be even more cantankerous...and no one wants that, trust me.

*Though that said, since I'm far from being a GWB fan, I am excited to start a new era of leadership.

What was the best date you went on in high school?

If by best, you mean most confusing, awkward, and historically calamitous, then easily my Senior Prom. My boyfriend and I had broken up 6 weeks prior to Prom.  I know because post-break-up, in my shallow high school girl mind, I wondered who (if anyone) I would be going to Prom with.  Along came A, who happened to be intensely smart, cool, and doting.  He was definitely a dark house candidate, being a year younger than me, and not particularly handsome, but he pursued me like the jewel in the desert that I was, and asked me to go with him to Prom weeks before anyone else was being asked.  Coincidentally, he was the ex-friend of my ex-boyfriend, so there was certainly an element of high school revenge as an undercurrent.

Preparations were afoot for the big night.  His mother rented him a convertible as our transport.  He consulted me on the style and shape of his tux.  We even planned on driving out to the beach after the dance, even though this was at least 2 hours away (his suggestion, he wanted to be different from everyone else).  A friend of mine assured me a most amazing corsage had been selected for me.  He made reservations at a well-known, high-end Italian restaurant that I'd always wanted to go to.  There was a lot of build up to the night.

But, as any good high school story goes, the night was one perfect disaster.

For one, he seemed nervous from the time he picked me up that evening.  In the photos my parents took with both of us, his nervous smile is forever proof of this.  The dance itself was fine, though we opted to leave early so we could get to the beach portion of our evening. He drove for two hours, and of course it was almost pitch black when we got to the beach.  I remember I was getting ready to get out of the car when he said, "Can we talk?".  I sat back down.  The tone in his voice was serious enough I started to wonder if was dying, or something else equally catastrophic.  He sighed repeatedly, and had a hard time getting out what he wanted to say.  Finally, he turned to me, and said,

"There's no easy way to say this.  So, I'm just going to say this.  I've come to realize these last few weeks that.......I'm gay."

I still wonder why he chose that moment to tell me, and even stranger, why he refused to talk to me after that night, as I hadn't said anything remotely rude, other than conveying shock (I was after all 17 and sheltered).  Perhaps in the confusing, hormone-fueled times that are high school I was merely a test to his emerging sexuality.  In hindsight, his overtly gentlemanly ways (held hands, pecks on the cheek, but nothing more) and his obsessive, well-atuned sense of fashion made the news obvious.

A couple years later I ran into him when I was home from college on break.  He had forgiven me for whatever it was that he felt I did improperly, and I forgave him for ruining one of the most romantically built-up nights of my high school career. At that time he was out (to everyone), going to school in San Francisco, and having the time of his life.  I wished him well.  Though there are still those times when I wonder, why Prom night? Perhaps he didn't want to ruin it for me.  Perhaps he didn't want to ruin it for himself.  It's high school, what more can you say.

Inspired by Hannah's impressive end of year book list last year, I decided to keep track of what I read in 2008. Life interfered some months, or I'd start a few at once, and end up finishing them the following month.  All told I finished 40 books in 2008.  I meant to review as I went along, but it just didn't happen (with a few exceptions).

January

1. Atonement – Ian McEwan: enjoyable, though slow at moments.  The most engrossing part?  A really well-written sex scene in the library.

2. A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian – Marina Leywka: Short and fun.  Would recommend.  Reviewed it here.

3. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – JK Rowling:  I delayed reading the last book just because I wasn't quite ready to be done with Harry and Hogwarts.  I enjoyed it the most of all the books in the series and thought the ending was perfect.

February

4. Austenland – Shannon Hale: Good, fluffy read about an Austen fan who predictably finds her own Mr.Darcy.

5. Shadow of the Wind – Carols Ruiz Zafon: Came highly recommended by a friend of mine.  Took a while to get into it, but once I was I could not put it down.

6. Never let me go – Kazuo Ishiguro:  Creepy at times, but definitely thought-provoking and beautifully-written.

7. The Wonder Spot – Melissa Banks: Fun and light.

8.  Little Children – Tom Perrotta: It was so close to the film (which I saw first) that it was a bit boring.  Still Perrotta nails suburbian angst to perfection.

March

9. Naptime is the new happy hour – Stefanie Wilder-Taylor:  Reviewed this one here.

April

10. Traveling Mercies – Anne Lamott:  I <3 Anne Lamott.  What else is there to say?  This a collection of her thoughts on faith.  She's an unorthodox Christian, and I really dig that.

May

11. A Widow for one year – John Irving:  Read it over a weekend.  Though I can't remember too much of it in hindsight.  Is that strange?

12.  The Yummy Mummy Manifesto – Anna Johnson:  Reviewed it here.

13.  The Poisonwood Bible – Barbara Kingsolver (re-read for book club):  As I recently commented elsewhere in blogland, this is not a feel-good novel.  But, it is incredible.  Characters are so distinct you'll think it's a biography and writing so rich I longed to write at her level.

June

14. Middlesex – Jeffery Euginides:  Insightful, funny, and quite frankly one of the best books I read all year.  P.S it's about a hermaphrodite, but not in the least bit creepy.

July

15.  A Prayer for Owen Meany – John Irving (read for a book club):  Enjoyed it, but also found it diffcult to read at times.  Didn't like it as much as other John Irving books I've read.

16.  The Memory Keeper’s Daughter – Kim Edwards:  Kept my interest initially, but didn't love it.

17.  This Charming Man – Marian Keyes:  I will read anything Marian Keyes writes and usually love it.  This was no exception.  She falls in chick lit territory, but her stories aren't as vapid and cliched as other novels in that genre.

August

18.  On Chesil Beach – Ian McEwan: About the unravelling of a marriage.  Don't remember much else about it.  Written in typical McEwan meandering style.

19.  Four Seasons in Rome – Anthony Doerr:  Memoir about a writer who wins a fellowship to Rome and goes for a year with his wife and twin boys. It brought back fond memories of Rome, and as a writer I couldn't help fantasizing that I would win the same fellowship someday and be paid to write in the Eternal City.

20.  Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith – Anne Lamott:  Didn't adore it as much as Traveling Mercies, but it had some good moments.

21.  Lullabies for little criminals – Heather O’Neill: Dark, but excellent.  Made me cherish my sometimes boring childhood.

September

22. Odyssey of Homer – Richard Lattimore translation (read for class):  Read first in high school, and found it much more palatable as an adult.

23.  Free Food for Millionaires – Min Jin Lee: Rather long, but engrossing novel about a young woman in New York.  Enjoyable, but possibly could have been edited a bit.

24.  Carry on Jeeves - P.G. Wodehouse:  Light and easy to digest short stories about the always impressive butler Jeeves.

October

25.  The Ramayana – R.K. Narayan (read for class):  Quintessential Indian epic. Thankfully easy to read.

26.  Recognition of Sakuntala – Kalidasa (play read for class):  Japanese drama that was painful to read.  Seriously, I hated it.

27.  StoriTelling – Tori Spelling:  Yes, I'm actually admitting I read this.  It was - in my defense - given to me by a friend who said it wasn't bad.  And was it bad?  Not really.  But, only if you see it as long-form US Weekly. 

28.  The Uncommon Reader – Alan Bennett:  Short and delightful read.  Fiction about how the Queen of England re-discovers reading and basically can't stop.  Thanks Cori.

29. Twilight – Stephenie Meyer:  I resisted for months.  I did.  I heard over and over that it was worth reading.  But, a young adult book about vampires and first love?  Finally, a close friend (you know who you are because we salivated over Robert Pattison in the theater together) convinced me to try it.  I mean, this friend is getting her Masters in Literature - I trust her!  Stephenie Meyer's not in line to win any critical acclaim and certainly her books are flawed, but all of the Twilighters out there are proof that she can weave a good tale.

November

30. Tale of the Genji – Lady Murasaki (read for class):  Not a bad Japanese novel, but it interfered with my ability to get through the Twilight series, so I was bitter.

31. New Moon - Stephenie Meyer:  Devoured.  See Twilight.

32. Eclipse - Stephenie Meyer:  See above.

33. Breaking Dawn - Stephenie Meyer:  Darker tone and heavier on the vampire "culture", which I actually liked (other readers did not).  Read it in a few hours, then re-read it a second time because I wasn't ready to let the series go.

34.  Penelopiad – Margaret Atwood: My return to adult fiction, and a great read.  If you've read the Odyssey and wondered what Penelope was really thinking, this novella is the answer.

35. When you are engulfed in flames – David Sedaris:  Usually I love anything he writes, but this one was just sort of meh.  David are you getting too comfortable with success?

36. Arabian Nights – Husain Haddawy translation (read for class): Enjoyable, but not something I would pick up on my own.

December

37. The Inferno – Dante (read for class):  My favorite assigned reading for the semester.  According to Dante I'd probably be headed toward some circle in Upper Hell, but I didn't let that marr my enjoyment of it.

38. An exact replica of a figment of my imagination – Elizabeth McCracken:  Heartbreaking memoir, but therapuetic to read.  A woman gives birth to a stillborn, then goes on to give birth to a healthy son later that year.  That kind of loss made me weep repeatedly, but like I said, in a good way.

39.  The Namesake – Jhumpa Lahiri:  Intelligent, enjoyable, and well worth the read.

40.  White Oleander – Janet Fitch:  Another great novel where I thanked God for my staid, but stable childhood.