Lists

So, I'm one of those people who makes lists when under stress. Last night, I realized I'd reached a new low when I started making a list of the lists that I need to make. I wasn't even thinking about the list I'm secretly making for my husband. He loves those!

This afternoon, I'm feeling a little more in control. Unfortunately, it's all because I'm home with an eight year old with a nasty case of pink eye. But, having a weekday at home, actually accomplishing some items on my list (instead of just putting them on the list) has helped to calm me down.

Of course, sitting here for a few minutes has given me the time to think of three more things to put on my list. I guess I just shouldn't stop moving.

Someday...

...I won't have to wipe anyone's runny nose but my own. I can't wait for that day. Will it happen this summer when we move to a different climate, or will it only happen when my kids have reached the age where having streams of boogers pooling on their upper-lips is finally considered disgusting? Here's hoping for climate change, because my kids seem to have no sense of shame!

A confession

I have been a full-time working mom for the past 4 years. It's been a challenge. I'm constantly struggling with feelings of guilt, inadequacy, selfishness, resentment, you name it. I always feel like I'm doing things last minute and half-a*#ed. I get home everyday and the two and half hours between walking in the front door and bedtime are the longest, hardest, most anger filled hours of my day. I turn into a temper-tantrum throwing maniac. And then, I beat myself up about it because, of course, my children deserve a mother who is serene and self-controlled.

We are making a move in June that will allow me to be a stay-at-home mom. I have all sorts of visions of what things will be like. Lots of cooking healthy, delicious foods all from scratch, learning how to use a sewing machine (or at least hem my own pants), arts and crafts with my two year old, singing, reading, going for walks, and generally being perfect in every way. My deep, dark fear is that every minute of every day of my future will feel like the last few hours of my present days. Is that wrong to admit? What if I hate staying home? What if I'm bored all the time? What if I'm angry all the time?

I guess that it will continue to be about that tricky balancing act, giving my kids everything they need without giving up the things I need. Now I just need to figure out what those things are.

*** Sheesh, note to self. Don't blog on Monday nights, especially when you and the kids are all sick. You sound way too "angst-y."

Green with envy over green thumbs

We live in a little neighborhood that consists of three buidings, each with 4 townhouse units. It's a pretty idyllic spot for kids (9 of the 12 units are families with kids.) We have a playground, playing fields, a circle for bike and scooter riding, a giant woodchip pile that has provided hours of imaginative play, and a little neighborhood garden. On beautiful days like today, the kids roam around in a pack, while the moms sit outside and chat, occasionally reminding them to not eat chalk or walk in front of the swings. As our beautiful days have increased in frequency, our neighborhood gardeners have come out in force. The square of dirt that has looked depressing all winter, is starting to fill up now with tiny starter plants. I'll tell you straight up, I am no gardener. I have tremendous difficulty keeping any green thing alive. As much as I respect and admire those that do, I just don't seem to have what it takes. I've only had one pseudo-success in the garden in my entire life. I made a bold attempt with a few tomato plants last year. I kept them potted, but worked throughout the summer to nurture them along. Then, just as those green tomatoes that I had been tending so carefully began to show their first tints of orange, we sublet our townhouse for a month, and went to Utah. Our lovely tenants literally enjoyed all the fruits of my labor. This year, as much as I am itching to try again, I have to restrain myself. I can't keep an indoor plant alive for more than a few weeks. Somehow, I don't think my tomato plants would survive a cross-country move in the middle of June. Alas, I must wait for next year. Maybe then, I'll be brave enough to actually plant them in the ground.

I'm in love

She arrived today, all tiny and pink. My new baby!

The pink means that she's all mine. No sharing with my husband! Hip, hip, hurray!

Yes, I am a New Yorker.

In my time living in New York, I have become an avid reader of the New York Times. (Actually, I started reading it while at BYU in an attempt to keep a little balance in my life.) Anyway, I'm too much of a cheapskate to actually buy a subscription to the Times and I hate having piles of recycling around. So, I check the NY Times website every morning. I've realized over the last few months, that although I read it every day, I never have any idea what's on the front page. Why on earth would I want to read about bail-out plans and water-boarding, when I can read David Pogue's technology blog, the Tuesday Science Times, and Thomas Friedman's editorials? Bono (yes of U2 fame) wrote a fantastic piece that was in last weekend's Sunday Times.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/19/opinion/19bono.html

Are we focusing on "value" or "values?" And doesn't Easter bring about such masterful musings?

Two months

Moving day is less than two months away. In some ways two months sounds like a LONG time, but then I remember that my husband and I both work at a school, and I start to panic about how little time I have to get everything done.

The last two months of the school year are a blurry sprint. You come back all relaxed from spring break and then you don't breath again until June.

Keeping that in mind, we decided to tackle the attic last week. Today, it was "winter clothes." I'm ashamed that we have as much as we do, when 6 huge bags of clothing went to Goodwill this afternoon.

When we moved to New York, we drove a half empty truck and fit ourselves comfortably into a 300 square foot apartment in Morningside Heights. 9 years and 3 kids sure have loaded us up with a lot more crap.

I'm dreading the bookshelves and kitchen more than any other spaces in our house and can only blame myself for them.