Did you see me persevering?
Channeling my daughter, and also Dorinda Medley.
This post is too long for email because she’s got a lot to say today. Click on through to read the whole post!
My daughter learns about a new character trait each month at her school. In January, it was, “Perseverance.” Now when she does something challenging, like say, putting on her socks in under four minutes, she yells, “Did you see me persevering?!” It’s precious, and so very earnest.
I’m currently on week two of having a cold. It cycled quickly through everyone in our house, but it has lingered with me. I’ve spent this week drinking cup after cup of hot water with lemon and honey, flooding my nose with saline, trying out strange sinus massage techniques I found on Youtube.
Not feeling well + major routine shifts for our family + entering into one of my busier seasons at work has led to some big feelings and a whole lot of reflecting. Spread the Jelly posted a note this week, asking folks for their views on mom guilt. For me, I struggle knowing that I am not giving 100% anywhere in my life right now. In theory, I know this is so normal and to be expected. In practice, I feel surges of guilt at work when I need to take pumping breaks and struggle to clear out my inbox each day. I feel guilt at home because I’m exhausted from the day and just trying to get everyone fed, bathed, and ready for bed. I feel guilt when I’m too overstimulated to have a conversation with my husband. I feel guilt when I don’t have time to go for a walk or the energy to exercise. I feel guilt that I don’t check in on my friends often enough. Lately I feel like I’m doing all of these things at about 30-65%. Sometimes I have so much compassion for myself. Other times, I am so frustrated by how hard it is and how everyone else seems to be figuring it out.12 Maybe it’s the Mucinex, maybe it’s the general state of the world, but I have spent the last week vacillating between modes — “Did you see me persevering?!” and, Dorinda.
My husband and I cobbled together eight months of parental leave between the two of us, and as we transitioned this week to our new work/school/daycare routines, I have felt stretched to the very ends of myself. I am proud of some of the ways I have grown since becoming a parent, and again since becoming a parent of two. I know the day will come when my children don’t need or want to spend as much time with me (I will be sad, and this is also when I plan to get a dog). My own mother is recently retired and her days have become the inspiration for my own late sixties someday-life — Pilates every morning, afternoon walks, lunch with friends, time to read and work on house projects. Right now it’s this — always a little busy, always a little messy, always a bit behind where I’d like to be. Two things can be true. I can be certain that my children are made of stardust, that they hung the sun and moon and I can feel tired because I am trying to be a good mother to them and survive each day.
I try to wake by 5:00 each day so the whole morning routine can feel less like a sprint. We tumble out of the house by 7:05, breakfasts and lunches packed, the girls in one car and the boys in another. We do our affirmations (I am kind, I am brave, I am smart, I am strong, I am a good listener, I am ready for school) during our drive to the elementary school down the street. I drop my daughter off and drive the ten minutes to my school. Most days, someone is waiting to see me when I arrive at my office door.
There’s often no way to structure the day, but I do my best to take breaks to pump around 9:30am and 1pm. Lunch is when I can find the time. I leave by 3:30, and get home just before my daughter gets off the bus.
Our afternoons and evenings are a blur — running the dishwasher, starting the laundry, an after school snack and Cosmic Kids Yoga, at least seven requests to read a story or help make a bracelet for a friend, some sort of dinner before baths, books, and bedtime around 7:00. My husband usually tackles the dishes and now, thanks to advice from Jennifer Klee, I put together breakfasts and lunch boxes, pour bottles for the baby, pack pump supplies, make sure bags are packed and by the door. I tidy up our downstairs spaces, even just a little. There is always a pile of boots near the front door. A month from now, my husband will start coaching for the spring season and our routines will shift again.
Some nights I sit on the couch for a bit and we watch a show or, at least put on the news. Sometimes I write. Eventually I head upstairs to take a shower and attempt to get to sleep before 10:00. My children are unpredictable sleepers, and I’ve mostly accepted this. After spending hundreds of dollars on sleep consultants (and a stint last year with the pediatric sleep clinic team), I know that I am doing my best to meet them where they’re at while getting as much sleep as I can, and that having children who don’t sleep well is not a moral failing.
We are finding the steps to this new dance, ever so clumsily. There is so much to be done in the margins — taxes and summer camp registration and researching which dance class in town might spark joy and not crush a lively spirit. My daughter asked to do the local running program again this spring, and I think my husband and I both felt relief that she seems to have found an activity she loves. The baby needs a new bathtub. I have to reschedule appointments and get bloodwork done. My glasses are broken. I need to call my friends and send belated birthday cards. On my best days, I can remind myself that this is the best work, that I wanted this desperately, that there were days (years) when it seemed impossible that we might someday have this life. Two things can be true — this is magical, this is exhausting.
In the past few weeks, I’ve been replaying a memory from when I was twelve or thirteen. During the years when I was in middle school, I went to a sleep-away Girl Scout camp. On the first day of camp we always took a swim test, after which we were assigned swim cap colors that coordinated with boundaries in the lake. During my last summer, I earned my blue cap, which meant I could attempt a group swim across the lake and back. I remember swimming hard on the way out, and sitting briefly on the edge of the lake to catch my breath before making the return trip. On the way back, I took breaks to tread water and did the elementary backstroke, which my swim teacher had promised could keep me afloat in an emergency. I’ve been thinking about that day a lot lately, and how motherhood so often feels like that lake swim. Even though I was ready for it, even though I have the tools I need, sometimes I am just barely treading water. So, here’s a week’s worth of me elementary back-stroking through life. Look at me persevering!
What I wore
MONDAY — for baby’s first day of daycare and so many meetings
TUESDAY — for when the baby spits up all over everything ten minutes before walking out the door
WEDNESDAY — for oversleeping and crying a little bit in the afternoon
THURSDAY — for a trip to the dentist and getting thank you cards from students
FRIDAY — for having two cookies for breakfast, in celebration of National School Counseling week
FRIDAY NIGHT — for collapsing on the couch with a N/A drink and the first episode of Summer House
What I read
Traci Landy’s post this week had me teary on Tuesday morning because working in education is hard as hell and so undervalued.
Natalia Quintero Ochoa’s post about being ready and wearing what you love!
Aliza Sir’s post on Platonic Love hit me hard. Infertility is cruel and exhausting.
I’ve been listening to Stranger: A Memoir of Marriage and I’m absolutely hooked.
This article about America’s Next Top Model. I rewatched the first few seasons right after the baby was born and I can’t believe half of the episodes were allowed to air.
Sammy Feels Shy (with my daughter). We love the Big Bright Feelings books, and we hadn’t read this one yet.
What I did
Celebrated National School Counseling week! Went to the dentist and got a good report. Tried a new-to-me N/A Negroni. Planned a Galentine’s menu. Became obsessed with a new tinted moisturizer. Bought a pair of sneakers (on sale for $35! in limited sizes, more here).
SOME GLIMMERS, because we need to end on a positive note
💕 My daughter has been saying the word, “Oftenly.” No one correct her.
💕 The bacon egg and cheese sandwich my husband brought me on a really hard day this week.
💕 Low stakes hot takes! Mine: I love two-factor authentication and ceiling fans.
💕 40 teachers signed up for a Collage with a Counselor brain break during our PD day next week.
💕 Jazz albums — when I played piano in jazz band in high school, we had to listen to at least one jazz album a week and take notes on it. I’ve been listening to an album top to bottom at least once a day while I’m working.
Let’s chat!
What glimmers have you noticed this week? What cold remedies do you swear by? What is your favorite Dorinda Medley line? How are you persevering right now? Let me know.
I’m so grateful to have you here. Thanks for reading, it means a lot. If you liked this post, I hope you’ll share it with a friend. XO, T
A note — my post may include some affiliate links, meaning that links may generate revenue at no cost to you. This month, I am donating all affiliate revenue to the CTUL rent fund.
I know, I know. NO ONE has it figured out.
Also, I can see this objectively — we don’t have family nearby who can help, so our childcare budget is maxed out, so we’re limited on what else we can outsource at this point but, gosh I would love to not feel so stretched all the time.
This resonates so much. I’ve been feeling the guilt in all areas lately too. This part of the winter is so tough. Hang in there! We’ll get through!
Oh Tricia, giving you a giant hug! I promise you’re doing it all perfectly and you’re earning whatever is better than the blue cap! These days are so long and challenging and yet, we’re also built for this, but it’s so hard to dig deep for more to give when you’re already at capacity.
Your bit about mom guilt was this exact thought I keep having too, like, no matter what, I’m letting someone down. While it’s not always easy to give yourself compassion, you’re doing great and you’re in good company, from one tired mama to another.
I hope the rest of this season feels a little less choppy for you, friend. ❤️