Why I Don't Wear Gym Clothes To School - By Crumbs

I'm jobless.  Well, not exactly, I'm raising my boys, blah, blah, blah..(which if I were a paid nanny, I'd totally be fired for being lazy).  I coast at my "job."  The first thing I think of is "how can I get coffee into me faster" and then I think "I wish I could go for a run right now all alone without having to do anything for anyone else."  And then, even though I LOVE my kids immensely, I'm always plotting ways to get away from them or to get them to take naps or go to bed.  It's like a habit now, an artful balance between keeping everyone going with the least amount of work required.  Having relatively low standards is helpful.  I can go to bed with dishes in the sink...and on the dining room table.

Honestly, I know I'm amazingly privileged.  How many people wish they didn't have to work and could spend time doing the things they love, playing with their kids or doing nothing at all but surf the web?  Everyone.  Well, for a few years, I get to do that.  The price?  Being the official First Responder to 3am bedwetting and my toddler's "The Toy".  Done.  Don't get me wrong - I ADORE witnessing my youngest's exponential learning curve and being read to for the first time by my older boy.  I love the soccer games and playgrounds and easter egg hunts and rock skipping and team photos and piano practice and cuddling and all those delicious experiences mothers enjoy.  But I also love the open schedule that having 1 in Kindergarten and 1 who naps allows.  Could I better use my time? Absolutely!  But then I might miss out on this precious time to do nothing in the middle of the day - when no one is watching or waiting; kind of like at college. I know it won't be forever...just when they are young.  Supposed to graduate sometime, right?

Like when my eldest was 4, I went back to work.   I baked in a cupcake shop, waking up at absurd hours so I could be home by 1 to pick him up from preschool and enjoy the day with him.  I'd like to say it was hard to get back into the demand of work & home, but it wasn't.  I was ready to be productive again- and have an excuse not to spend 12 hours a day with my boy (it's true! absence DOES make the heart grow fonder).  But then after several months, what I thought was impossible, happened: I got pregnant again.  Not only did my energy drop from 60 to nothing in 3 seconds, but I threw up so much, it made me stupid.  I'm pretty sure my ability to count without using my fingers got flushed down the bakery toilet. I was fired for being an inept employee.  Totally. Deserved.  (but the 1st trimester's fault).  And then the Stay-at-Home-Mom cycle re-started, which is super cool.

But I know it's an indulgence I can enjoy for just another wee chunk of time.  What do they say about if you want something done, give it to a busy woman?  Yeah, don't give it to me.  It's not going to happen.  If I'm not on a run at the Y, them I'm sitting in my stinky clothes checking my facebook page (friend of a friend's wedding photos? don't mind if I do!)  This stay-at-home mom lifestyle is a luxury my husband has sacrificed for because he knows it's good for the kids, and lord knows, HE doesn't want to spend all day with them!

What's my point?  Despite it all, I draw the line at wearing my gym clothes to my son's school because nothing flaunts Privilege like wearing a Dri-Fit tanktop and yoga pants at drop-off.  No matter how late I might be or how disheveled,  I won't let anyone see me looking like I have plenty of time in the middle of the day to go to the gym.  Why?  I'm totally embarrassed to look unproductive AND selfish... and I fear my ostentation will goad Karma into taking it all away too soon. Regardless of convenience, no one, especially working moms and dads rushing to get their child to class AND themselves to work on time, needs to go by a  lil' pony-tailed chick in a running skirt who's 'Off For a Workout with My Trainer, Emmanuel, and then Mimosas with the Ladies at Lunch'.  Of course, that's not what happens, but I want to guarantee it doesn't look like that either.  Now, if I actually had a job with non-traditional hours and I had to s-q-e-e-z-e in a quick run at 7:30 am, perhaps I'd feel justified...but I don't, so I'm not.  I'm on a sabbatical from the hard, real world.  I don't want to rub it in.

Gotta Walk Before I Run

Gotta Walk Before I Run.

Turns out, this isn't just a metaphor. Nine days post-partum: My birth went well, no damage to my plumbing, I've been up and moving, well...since giving birth. I delivered at a free standing birth center and was sent home just 6 hours after my boy's arrival - and I was happy to be back in my own bed.

My mother came into town 2 days later. Now, my mother means well, but at 69 years old, her body isn't what it used to be. In fact, she's a wreck. Plagued by manic-depression, she gave up living years ago. Long story short, she can't stand for more 10 minutes, she shakes to much to write, and gets lost going to her mailbox. Frankly, she needs to live in an assisted-living facility, but refuses. What makes it tragic is that she'd rather have a hundred ailments listed on her gravestone than try to take care of herself. This week, I took care of two "infants."

I made her dinner while trying to teach my 2 day old to breastfeed. I helped her buckle her seatbelt after I hooked in my 3 day old into his carseat in order to pick up my 4 1/2 year old from preschool. I unsuccessfully tried to get her to shower while re-diapering my 5 day old.

I'm thankful my birth went well enough that I could keep my family going AND care for my mother. But I'm exhausted. I'm tired and sore and angry that I couldn't take it easy during my son's first week of life. I'm upset that she invited herself into my home for 8 days knowing full well that she couldn't help walk our dog, drive my son to school, help with meals or even clear her own dishes. I'm furious that she came with a runny nose and loud cough - and now my 4 1/2 year old and I have it.

I want to run. I want to strap on my running shoes and refuel with each step. I want to erase my bitterness by sweating it out but I can't. I should have been healing, but I've been up and moving non-stop. After driving my mom to the airport, I'm just now realizing how sore I am. I know I have to walk before I run, but I didn't think walking would be such a challenge. I know it's only been 9 days since a major event - giving birth - but a 20 minute walk shouldn't have been so hard. Maybe I'm just aching because I've lost my mother.

Signing off

Andrea, I was just going to post a little story about how much I have enjoyed blogging for seeMOMMYrun and about how I'm in such wonderful shape because I form what I will write while I exercise. And then I was going to sign off and invite somebody else to become a blogger for your site so that she might also experience the personal transformation that takes place.

Then I realized that I should probably talk to you about it first, to let you know before the rest of the world. While a blogger for your site, I can honestly say I became a different, improved, healthier person. The process of blogging about one's efforts to be a mother as well as somebody else is transformative.

I am still going to post that little story I mentioned above, I might just post the body of this email. I can't wait to follow the experiences of the next blogger(s).

So, thanks! I hope we are able to meet each other in person some day.

S. Kimzey Daniels

This Evening's Spectacle

This evening's spectacle, down a quiet little neighborhood street:

My 4-year-old boy riding a WAY-TOO-BIG bike recovered from a dumpster whose training wheels screeched like fingernails down a chalkboard; all the while he was growling screaming out car engine sounds and pretending to get blown-out tires.

Next to him: me and my 23 week pregnant belly slogging* along soaked in sweat, chanting "Go Lightning McQueen Go!" or "Peet Stop"** in a really bad Italian accent or "Bring on the confetti!"***

Talk about a circus!

*runningfor3's fabulous term for slow jogging

** Guido anyone?

***Chick...and yes, thanks for asking: We HAVE seen the movie Cars 1084 times.

You Are So Inspiring!

Yes,  YOU.

You, a mother who finds time to fit in runs between diaper changes, or feedings, or driving your kids to soccer practice.  You, who was so busy looking for your family when you crossed the finish line that you forgot to stop your watch .   You, who stayed up until midnight to make tomorrow's school lunches so you'd have time in the morning for a tempo run.  You, who carries all your running partners keys and water bottles in your stroller because you've got room.

You are pretty cool...and inspiring.  And I'm sure you've got some running tips you've discovered along the way that other moms would find interesting.

Marathon Mama wants to hear from you.  She's writing the book we've all been waiting to read.

The purpose of the book is to illustrate the ways that running and motherhood transform each other. The book looks at the connections that mother-runners draw between these two aspects of their lives, in terms of their day-to-day experience, identities, and sense of community.

So, go on - check out her blog for more details and offer your story.  

The Not-So-Obvious List of How to Pack for a Music Festival with a Small Child

Taking a small child to a festival can sound pretty scary. There's the heat**, expensive unhealthy food, the question of napping and all the freaky people (if it's a good one). But I think it's really rewarding to dance in a field with your child, if you are prepared. In fact, I substituted it for my long run on Sunday.

While looking online to see if I'd forgotten anything, I found no help in getting ready. So, in a change from my usual posting, I've decided to write down a few things I've learned in the last 3 years of parenting-at-festivals. In addition to the usual (sunblock, water, hat), these few items can fit into a backpack (except the final two, of course).


(random video from youtube, this cute boy isn't mine)

• Food: I don't care that festivals don't allow food. I always pack a small lunch box, aim for the security queue with a woman who looks like a mother and hope she'll know there is no joy is spending 12 hours with a toddler living on corndogs & coke. Pack an apple, a banana, a PBJ, ziplock bag of raisins/nuts/dried fruit, an applesauce & mini spoon, a few boxes of Parmalat (boxed milk), water cup. Add a granola bar for you or whatever you need to keep you from your own melt down when you're tired and sick of waiting in the burrito line for 45 minutes. Bringing food for your kid is legit - they know you'll still spend money on beer and kettle corn.
  
• Earplugs/Studio Headphones: It's so very loud, even in the back, so cover those ears so you have at least the option of heading up front with the wee one. Great for naps, too. If you don't have studio headphones or Bose sound canceling headphones, bring several pairs of the foam plugs since they are easy to lose (and oh so cheap, and I guarantee you'll be asked by another desperate-looking mother if you've got extra).
  
• 2 changes of kids clothes in Gallon Ziplocks: tightly folded in large ziplock - put everything in it's own ziplock. When the chaos of the fest hits, individual see through bags make it easy to sift through. The ziplocks can be used to hold trash later.
  
• Pajamas: tightly folded in large ziplock. Dress kid in PJ's as you leave venue & pray for sleep on ride home. Leave 'em in the car if the walk/ride back to your ride isn't too long.
  
• Blinky Light: Put on kid when sun starts to go down and so (s)he won't beg you to buy a $12 glow toy.
  
• Camera/Cell phone/Pen: Take photo of kid when you get to fest so if/when (s)he gets lost you say to staff (s)he looks exactly like this. I have a ribbon that has our info on it that I safety pin to the back of my kid's clothes and when I forget it, I just write my phone number on his arm.
• Folding Beach Mat: I've recently discovered the absolute beauty of one of these folding mats. Not only is it totally compact & easy to fold, but you can sit in wet grass without getting wet. And if it rains or gets mud on it, it cleans up and dries quickly.
  
• Small squirt Bottle: Because it's hot & water makes it tolerable. Besides, it's an activity.
• One small imagination toy: like a truck, a couple matchbox cars, an inflatable ball, doll, or a shovel.
  
• Jogging stroller: You need giant wheels to get you through the grass, mud and rugged terrain of a festival. You need a place for your child to nap. You need instant shade. If emptied of valuables, it can be left anywhere. No one is going to steal it (people leave tents, blankets and chairs near stages, your stoller is no different).
  
• Prepped Car: Leave behind in the car a bottle of water (because you'll never be able to find water once you leave), bedtime stuff (blankie/animals/box of milk) and change of clothes for you . Keep an extra snack/sandwich/munchie for the ride home. You might want to have wipes (for a hippie bath) and a pillow.

Anyhow - If it sounds like a lot, it really isn't. I haven't ventured camping at a fest with my boy, yet, but that's more because I can't talk his dad into it. And of course, I only have one, so I'm sure it's easier than it would be with more children.

I'm curious to learn your "Big Event" packing strategies. Go on, share.

**I live in South Florida where the comment about heat makes sense.  For all you folks up North, this is your "In preparation for Spring/Summer" preview. 

How I Got Here

The local news had run a feature inviting girls from the area to submit applications as to why their mother should be Mom of the Year and, initially, I was very excited. Until, that is, I actually tried to think of reasons why my mother should be Mom of the Year.
In my eyes, a child's eyes, there was no doubt that she was Mom of the Year, but in society's eyes, well, I had to admit, she didn't have much to offer. The truth of it was, and is, that single mom's of three children whose kids go to school hungry and wearing the same clothes as they had worn the day before, aren't exactly Mom's of the Year. That mom's like mine, who opted out of meet the teacher night and who never baked cookies or accompanied the class on a field trip weren't the sort of mom's who earned honors.
The realization brought with it quite a bit of shame--shame for myself and shame for my mother. At that moment I knew that I wanted to be Mom of the Year. That when my time came, my child(ren) would have a Mom of the Year.
And here I am now! I won't lie. It's been a bumpy ride. Like water following a groove, I have been tempted by mediocrity and I've had to teach myself and learn by default many things that I think other kids were taught--I don't know. But I've also taught myself and learned by default many things that other kids weren't taught for the simple reason that they had a Mom of the Year and I'm pretty sure that's what the whole trip has been about.