January 11th: What is the value in blogging 365 questions?

The premise behind 365 questions is that I use this blog to reflect on one central question that arises in my life each day for the entire year of 2015. But here’s what I hadn’t counted on: sick days!

I spent a good part of the last couple of days in and out of sleep on the couch, feeling guilty that I couldn’t get the energy together to write. When I had the mental energy to consider it, I asked myself, why am I even doing this? What am I getting out of writing my thoughts like this?

Originally, I decided that if I commit myself to writing a little bit each day, rain or shine, I’ll push my thinking and spur growth in ways that I may not expect. For this reason, I so enjoyed the 2HelpfulGuys post from today on exercising our creativity–if I can figure out how reblog it (who am I kidding–if I can figure out what reblogging is), I will!

Additionally, the reason I chose to write in this format, and not just keep a private journal, is because I find value in the limitations imposed by a potential audience. By blogging my 365 (or so) questions, I’m forcing myself to review my actions and interactions in order to find one central theme, one question, to reflect on daily. Throughout this process, I’m also forcing myself to craft and review and reconsider my thoughts, even when it’s difficult to do so. We don’t always do our best writing when we have to do it. It would be easier to sit around and wait for inspiration, only writing when I knew that my words and ideas were gold. It would be easier to say, “you know, today didn’t teach me very much,” rather than digging for those questions even when they don’t seem so obvious.

But then I remembered a quote that appeared on a plaque given to my by an ex-friend a long time ago. In a move toward reconciliation over–yes–a guy (and one to whom adult me would probably never give the time of day), she came to my graduation party. The plaque she gave me that day said, “You are now becoming what you will be.” Looking back, I realize two things: first, it might have been a word of warning, considering that in those days I was becoming a boyfriend-stealing beyotch with a perpetual hangover. But years later, I realize something else. That quote missed the mark a little bit. It should have been, “you are now being what you were.” Okay, I’ll admit that those words had more of a ring to them through the haze of fever! But the spirit behind it is that it’s what we do NOW, today, that is our legacy. What do I want to have been, someone who was always GONNA challenge myself, GONNA come up with good ideas, GONNA write…or do I just do it already, and to hell with the excuses? So here I am, rain or shine…most days, anyway!

January 8th: How–and when–can I say “no”?

Have you ever felt like you’re doing something not because you wanted to, but because you said you would? And have you ever felt like you said you would…because it seemed like the only option?

For the longest time, I had a philosophy of “say yes!” As in, “say ‘yes’ to the universe, and the universe will say ‘yes’ to you.”

On top of this, I’m a pretty responsible person. (Hey, I’ve made it to January 8th, haven’t I?) and there are undeniable benefits in the world of adults to having “responsibility” as a strength.

But whether it’s an extra project at work, social commitments, or a volunteer opportunity, I’m one of those people who can’t seem to say “no.” This makes me a star employee, a reliable friend, and a general mensch, but it also leads to a lot of frustration.

Well, today, I did it! I said “no!” And nothing happened. I’m still here, And I’m still the same responsible person that I was yesterday.

It’s time to explore the idea that saying “no” might allow me to spend less time doing what I should, and more time doing what I want.

January 7th: How can I be happy on both sides of the fence?

Snow day! A day home with my twin toddler ladies and their four year-old big brother. On any given weekday, this is the stuff dreams are made of! It is an all-too-common feature of modern motherhood to be torn between two worlds, the world of home and the world of working adults. And the guilt is always greater on the present side of the fence!

Although I find my job both fulfilling and enjoyable, I miss my kids terribly and suppress the ever-present guilt of sending them to “full-day early preschool” (daycare). I daydream of how much life would be better, my kids would be better, if I were a stay-at-home mom. And yet today, after the honeymoon period of breakfast, some finger painting, and a few stories, and about 30 minutes into the nap wars, I found myself watching the clock.

I work part-time but occasionally take on additional side projects that offer me flexibility and build my resume. This evening, I’m gearing up for a ten-hour work day tomorrow. I’ll get away for an hour or so mid-day to take my kids to their after-school activity and prepare snacks for the group, and then head off to another work commitment. And that, besides the morning rush, will be the end of my interactions with them tomorrow. And I’ll feel sad. Sad for me, sad for them.

I have little to complain about, and a lot to be grateful for. The choices are pretty clear: working full time, working part time, staying home (and turning my thermostat to 60 degrees, feeding my family ramen, and applying for Medicaid!). I chose working part time, in education, thinking I’d have the best of both worlds. Sometimes it seems like I feel the worst of both worlds, too. But how much of this is in my head? How can I have faith in the “whole package” that my kids are getting, and that I’ve given myself, while being content any day of the week?

Maybe there’s green grass all over, if you look carefully enough.

How can I be better at reading the subtext?

It was a great couple days back at school. Too bad -40 windchills mean that school’s cancelled tomorrow! I care a lot about my students, and I’m bummed to have our great momentum interrupted. One student especially is on my mind tonight.

We sat down with one of her peers to work on a reading passage this morning, and she seemed like her usual confident, spunky self. This young girl, a refugee, is among my brightest. Despite a mild speech issue, she participates enthusiastically in both large group and small-group settings. This is why I was so surprised when she asked me if she could have lunch with me. I asked her what made her think of this, and she said that she’s afraid that no one will sit with her. I said, “Is there something that you’d like me to know about?” And she immediately broke down into tears. As her story unfolded, I learned that a couple of girls in her grade have been giving her a hard time, “since we came back to school.” “After winter break?” “No, in August…well really since last year…”

After following procedure to address the situation, I began to ruminate–how could I have worked with this young girl for so long and missed the fact that something was troubling her? How will I, as a parent, be able to read the subtext below my children’s dismissive responses to “how was your day?”

I tend to be a literal person, but it’s time to work on reading between the lines!

January 5th: How can I be the eye of the storm?

First day back at school: Smiling faces, hugs, vitality of ideas…and a winter storm warning. The classrooms and hallways were abuzz with anticipation as we awaited the call…that never came. As the afternoon wore on, all eyes were glued to the swirling winter storm outside, mine included. My children ride a shuttle bus for several miles on the interstate to and from their daycare, set on acres of bucolic Midwest farmland. I knew that I wouldn’t feel at peace until I had picked them up from their drop-off point and we were all home safely.

Apparently other parents felt the same. The classroom phone rang again and again. Two dozen heads turned each time. And each time, the call was for another student whose family had arrived to take him or her home early. Noticing my eyes gazing out the window, one of my students said, “wouldn’t it be funny if everyone’s parents came but mine, and I was the only one left?” Something about the look in his eyes told me this wasn’t an over-active imagination talking. And that’s when it hit me. My worries over safety were genuine–Interstates were shut down and dozens of cars were piled up. But my kids were in good hands; they’d left before the worst conditions hit, and soon enough they’d be with me. They had security. And the best thing I could do for the ones who didn’t was put on a poker face and be 100 percent, completely present for them–to be utterly calm, the eye of the storm.

January 4th: How can I embrace the chaos?

I awoke this morning with feet in my face and a fist in my spleen. And yet, I kept my eyes closed. Too bad for me, my husband plays ‘possum better than I do!

I tried in vain to convince my footie pajama-clad attackers to go check out how much snow had fallen…to go wake up their little sister…to go pick out a favorite book–anything, so I could catch a few more minutes of sleep. And as I did so, a nagging voice in the back of my head reminded me that suffering is caused by desire…

This is one noble truth I’ve never been able to accept before breakfast.

If only I could embrace the chaos in my household, would my frustration, stress, and anxiety melt into contentment? There’s probably more than one award-winning parent out there right now tsk-tsk-ing my lack of control. I get it. And I should probably do whatever it is they’ve done that works. But I must believe that that ship has sailed, otherwise today’s question would be, “How can I channel Mary Poppins?”

But it isn’t, so back to the chaos we go.

Which moment should I pick to illustrate today’s theme? Would it be the moment that my daughter knocked a lamp over, sending a glass lamp shade shattering into shards all over my living room carpet? Was it the moment when I got the laundry folded, only to have my son switch into demo mode all over my tidy piles? Or was it when I finally coaxed my middle child into picking up and sorting all of her puzzle pieces into their four separate bins, only to watch her celebrate by dumping them out once again?

No, it would have to be the stickers. My brother in-law and his wife sent several sheets of finger nail-sized stickers across the ocean to my children, because clearly they care about their fine motor development. And apparently they don’t like me very much. So for days now, I’ve been peeling tiny, impossibly sticky stickers off of everything. I thought I’d gotten a handle on the situation earlier today, when I had my twins putting itty-bitty stickers on large pieces of chart paper. But then after dinner this evening it got quiet. Too quiet. I found my three children under the dining room table creating a sticker mosaic on the walnut flooring. And it will remain there until the glass splinters work their way out of my fingers. Ouch.

My kids are in bed now, and I’m left to reflect on, and accept the chaos that was. And because I’m not a complete idiot, the remaining stickers, thankfully, are in the trash.

[Incidentally, my niece and nephew are nine and four. Got an idea for a suitable gift that I can send in retribution return? Leave me a comment!]

January 3rd: How can I sort out wants and needs?

Ever felt like you’ve needed a vacation from your vacation? As I’ve said before, I’m a teacher. Tomorrow is the last day of a two-week winter “break.” Around my house, we put the “Happy” in Happy Holidays! Here’s a run-down: My in-laws came in mid-December for a nearly three-week stay–yes–with us. That night we kicked off eight nights of fried potatoes, jelly donuts, and chocolate money. I may have grown up Protestant, but Hanukah is my kind of holiday! (And to my family, now you know the real reason I converted–the parties!) So by the time my family, Jewish in-laws in tow, donned our paper hats and sat down at my parents table to our prime-rib Christmas dinner, I could barely fit into my tier-two skinnies. The revelry (and shopping) continued through the New Year. Now, I’m not talking about the merry-making of my twenties, but for a thirty-something mom of three under four, a couple of glasses of wine and socializing until 9:00 or 10:00 most evenings could reasonably be called over-doing it.

I woke up this morning completely exhausted from my vacation. I knew it was time to take stock. I’d had everything I wanted out of my vacation over the past two weeks. How could I possibly feel so drained?

My first impulse was to retreat: to turn on Saturday morning cartoons and tune out to the usual clamor in my living room. But then something lucky happened. My friend from down the street texted to see if we’d like to join her and her kids at the playground. I realized that I hadn’t had my kids outside in over two weeks! The fresh air was just what we needed. When we got home, my husband unpacked the light lunch he’d picked up, helped feed the kids, and PUT THEM DOWN TO NAP! I love you, husband, I thought, as I drifted off to my own two-hour slumber. I awoke to my well-rested brood and a phone call–did we want to join another family at the mall for some kids play place and food court Chinese? Absolutely!

As we put our tired-out (as opposed to run-down) kids down to sleep tonight, I realized that in pursuit of wants, I’d neglected some basic needs of self-care, not just for me, but for my family: nourishing food, fresh air, exercise, rest, friendship (not just socializing), and grateful acceptance of the simple gifts of a loving spouse. As my vacation draws to a close, I’m asking, how can I get a little bit more of what I need?

January 2nd: Photo Challenge Newbie! How can I have more compassion with myself as a parent?

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “New.”

21st century kid gets screen time revoked and is forced to improvise: A cautionary tale

I’m totally new to blogging, and first heard the word “pingback” today. So I hope this works! My photo sums up a new concept that I really need to implement in my life: How can I have more compassion with myself as a parent? This picture is a visual confession that my kid loves his screen time WAY too much–so much that even when his iPad was taken away, he found the nearest shiny, metallic object and sat down and stared at it for what was, for me, an uncomfortable amount of time! I keep tight limits on screen time, make my kids eat their vegetables, and otherwise worry about the untold damage my every decision may be causing. In other words, I’m a totally modern parent. But I took this photo not just to chronicle my bad parenting, but also to have a good laugh at myself, my very singular kid, and my own hang-ups. My kid’s only four, so laughing at my adventures in parenting is a pretty new practice, but one I hope I’ll continue!

January 1st: How can I find the time to blog on top of everything else?

I’m a working mother of three children ages four and under. I have three jobs. By the end of the day, I’m lucky if I have enough energy to stay awake through 30 solid minutes of sitcom reruns. How could I possibly commit to doing anything that didn’t involve a paycheck or wet wipes for each of the next 365 days? And how on earth will I find the time to form my thoughts into anything coherent?

I guess that’s the beauty of questions. Goals are finite; “To-do” list items are meant to be crossed off. I don’t know the answer, but by keeping one question at the back of my mind, every day, I’m opening my eyes to the unexpected possibilities–the answers that I’d never considered–that each day offers.