Balancing Act

Well, friends, for those of you following along at home, we have just completed month one of my New Job.

I spent six wonderful and challenging years as a classroom teacher, but this year, I was given the opportunity to work four days a week and coordinate our magnet  program and also work with intervention.

There's thankful, and then there's thankful. And that is how I feel about this new opportunity.

I love teaching, and my heart will always be in the classroom. But this is also my thesis year, and my girl will only be this little once, and I needed to take a break. The thing about classroom teaching, as I'm sure you all know, is that it is rarely confined to the hours of 8 am to 3:30 pm. The hours spent on parent conferences, extra duties, lesson planning, grading papers, writing report cards, and general worry for each child can be exhausting.

Friends, I can't tell you how good it does my heart to have time. 

This weekend, I met a friend at a park. I bought bread and sweet potatoes at the Farmer's Market. We went on three walks and played on the swings in the backyard and also made two batches of pumpkin muffins. I did not grade a single paper or plan a single lesson.

 It wasn't all sunshine. I had to wake up two hours before my family on Sunday to do my grad school work. There is still a huge pile of laundry that is not folded, it's just relocated.  This little one was super fussy. The darling hubs and I had an argument. But we had time to connect with her and work out our conflict and go to bed Sunday evening with peaceful hearts (and a mountain of laundry that has yet to be folded).

There are seasons of life, I know (thanks Ecclesiastes and the Byrds), and I'm hoping that this is one of balance.

How I spent my Labor Day vacation

Last night I was awoken at 1am to the familiar sounds of my daughter fussing. For those of you who know us, Joel and I seemed to have bred an energetic spitfire who doesn't take to sleeping on her own. Yes, I have tried that and no it did not work.

The funny thing is, I was rejoicing because she had slept from 7:30pm to 1am, the longest stretch I have gotten in a few weeks. Imagine my surprise when I was met with every bodily fluid- we had to change pajamas twice. How nice.

Of course, being the nervous mom that I am, I was terrified that she would puke again and I, in my sleep deprived stupor, would not hear it. So naturally, I kick Joel out of bed and make a baby safe area for her to cuddle up sweetly as she drifted off to sleep in the arms of her loving mother. 

Well, that was the plan.

Instead what happened was no less than 2 hours of Crazy Baby climbing all over me, kicking me in the chest, and literally jumping on the bed. 

Some of you know I used to sleep with her. For three months straight she slept upright on my chest, easing what I now know to be common colic. In month four, I returned to work and she slept in the crook of my arm, which sounds idyllic when Dr. Sears describes it but was a nightly battle to make sure I didn't lose circulation to my fingers. 

I remember wistfully thinking of the day when she would no longer want to cuddle, reminding myself that "The days are long but the years are short." That day came approximate five months ago. This kid wants her freedom. 

So, at 3:45 in the morning, I relented and set her down in her crib, where she slept for the next 3.5 hours until something deadly escaped into her diaper.

Needless to say, we both got showers this morning.

As I was typing this, my daughter was allowed to eat apple snack sticks (read: sugar coated apple flavored chips) for breakfast because shut up. That's why.

And to top it all off, I spilled coffee onto our beige couch, thus presenting the current dilemma: 

Do I spot clean that area, leaving the rest of the couch to look dingier by comparison, or do I leave said coffee stain in hopes people will think there is a permanent shadow on our couch?

Today was supposed to be a date day for Joel and I. We don't get out much and I can count on one hand the times the two of us have been on a date in the last year. We carve out time here and there, but with the two of us working and in grad school, it's not so easy.

On this Labor Day, I want to acknowledge all those mamas out there who are covered in puke, folding their third load of laundry this morning, and succumbing to the sweet silence that an episode of Curious George can bring. 

We may not get a day off today, but...

I don't have advice. I just have commiseration.

As I Sit Pumping

You may feel weird about that picture but now that it's a daily routine for me, it's about as regular as brushing my teeth. Actually, it's more regular than brushing my teeth.
* It's also one of those things moms do all the time but nobody really talks about, and as breastfeeding produced an inordinate amount of anxiety within me during my first few weeks as a mommy, I'm determined to communicate openly about it so that other new mommies don't feel nervous or awkward to do or discuss what is just about the most natural thing in the world. Soapbox over.*

Anywho, I pump twice a day during work. I'm grateful to work in a school that gives and gives and gives, so I have 15 minutes of coverage every morning and a planning period every afternoon to make sure my kid has the benefits of breast milk when I'm working hard for da money.

That means twice a day, I have to stop everything I'm doing and sit very still in a locked room.

It can be a slight inconvenience, especially if I'm in mental flow and want to finish a task. Because an object in motion will stay in motion, I tend to come in like a wrecking ball (yep, I went there) during the school day. 

So basically what happens is I'm in the middle of grading, or typing an email, or doing some other Monumentally Important Task, and I look at the clock and realize it's time to go. Everyday I think about skipping it, but The Sweet Potato has this weird thing where she has to eat every few hours. I dunno. We'll ask the doctor about it. 


This time, however, has become a blessing. That's a Christian way of saying it's a good thing that maybe I didn't see before.

It's a required time to rest.

Think. Pray. Be still.

The Lord has built in pauses in my day out of His grace, knowing I'm not so good at them myself. I love how He knows what we need even before we ask Him. 

on becoming type a

i have a wonderful husband. he is loving and helpful and caring.

he also has a massive case of add. like, lots of ritalin add.

up until about a year ago, i would not have described myself as an organized or efficient individual.

i have heard of cases in which a person loses one important sense (like vision) and their hearing becomes so much stronger in order to compensate. because i have chosen to tie my life to this man in such a way that the two become one, his sweet, (mostly) endearing lack of organization has created a multitasking monster in me.

this afternoon, i pumped while unpacking groceries. i regularly grade papers while eating lunch, plan curriculum at recess, and clean the kitchen while cooking dinner.

life is a bit crazy for us. i am now a mom. a parent. i have a daughter. (can you tell it still sounds new to me?) my daughter is beautiful and sweet. she has emerged from the “fourth trimester” just in time for me to return to my regularly scheduled job as a third-grade teacher and graduate student.

i became pregnant last year just as i had decided to return to graduate school full-time in addition to my teaching career and working in the afterschool program. yes, i am crazy. yes, it was hard, but to be completely honest, i’m extremely thankful for that time. i learned how to do fourteen things at once. i learned how to manage my time, prioritize the important things, and say no to everything outside of the important. i also learned my limits. i pushed myself too hard sometimes, and had to learn to rest.

when i am at work, these new skills are invaluable. i used to be the last one done with any task, and now i’m much more efficient. but when i come home to my sweet baby girl, i had a learn a new skill.

i am learning to breathe.

these are things i tell myself often: 

it’s ok that there are toys all over the floor (and my daughter can’t even put them there). 

it’s ok that there is clean and dirty laundry in literally every room in our house. 

it’s ok that our yard is the only one in the neighborhood that isn’t raked. like ever.

my new type a self is learning (read: has not yet mastered the concept) it’s more than ok.

my beautiful sweet potato is asleep on my chest. i fight daily that anxiety to run around and get things done. she has caused me to stop and slow down because i literally cannot get up when she is sleeping. i can stare at the dirty floor or my daughter's chubby cheeks. that floor isn't going anywhere, but soon my sweet potato will.