Step into my lunch

Today was a pretty typical lunchtime with both kids at home.  Lottie wanted soup and Dallas requested a hot dog.  Easy enough, right?  Ha.

As soon as Lottie saw her soup, she complained that she had asked for vegetable beef soup, not chicken noodle soup.  Dallas then clamored for chicken noodle soup as well, but he can't have it because the noodles are made with eggs.  I split time trying to tell Lottie that the soup was more than acceptable AND that she hadn't actually requested vegetable beef soup, and then I had to explain the whole egg-noodle thing to Dallas.  That didn't go so well.  He was still smarting from the fact that I had had the audacity to run out of strawberry jelly in the morning, so he couldn't have more toast.  Bad move, Mommy.  

Lottie grudgingly ate a teeny bit of the soup and Dallas devoured his hot dog.  I made myself a pb&j sandwich, only to have Lottie longingly gaze at it like it was a cool drink of water in the desert.  I sighed and gave her my sandwich.  I got up to make another one for myself, but Dallas interrupted my task by asking where was lunch: spaghetti and meatballs.  Um, huh?  When I made that, at Dallas's request, for dinner last night, he threw a fit and said spaghetti was slimy like a snake.  Oooookay....

There are microwave packets of pasta made by Allergaroo that don't contain any of the eight major food allergens: dairy, egg, wheat, soy, fish, shellfish, peanuts, and tree nuts.  I always have quite a few of those on hand, so I popped one of those in the microwave for Dallas.  While I waited for that to heat, Lottie expressed a need to eat some peanut butter and jelly crackers.  I made those, cut up Dallas's spaghetti, and delivered the food to the table.  Then both kids needed more to drink, so back to the kitchen I went.  I returned the cups of water to the kidlets and tucked a paper towel in Dallas's shirt to try to keep the spaghetti off of him.  Mr. Persnickety hates being dirty.   By the time I walked around the table and sat down at my seat to start my lunch, Dallas had ripped off the paper towel claiming that it hurt him.  I shrugged and bit into my sandwich.  Before I could swallow that first bite, Dallas held up his hands to show me the spaghetti sauce on them and demanded another paper towel...a fresh paper towel.  Sigh.  The new paper towel was tucked in just in time for Dallas to tell me that he wanted more spaghetti.  He had sucked up every last bite in about ninety seconds.  I made him more spaghetti, ran upstairs to get a new shirt because - gasp! - there was a speck of spaghetti sauce on it, came back downstairs, put the new shirt on Dallas, tucked the paper towel back in, and finally sat down to eat.  

Throughout all of the up and down, there was a constant flow of chatter.  Those kids talked and talked and talked.  They didn't even really talk to each other, though; they talked OVER each other about completely different topics.  Lottie talked about Halloween, and Dallas talked about his friend the pirate.  So much talking.  Ooodles of words.  Lots of bold, weird statements.  It's enough to make anyone's head spin.   Or wish for a Xanax prescription.  But I know there is a day in the not-too-distant future when I'll be sitting alone at the dining room table in a quiet house while both kids are in school.  I'm sure I'll enjoy the first few minutes of eating my own lunch without having to jump up and get a napkin or water or more chicken nuggets; however, I also know I'll miss their sweet faces and their laughter.  So I think I'll enjoy the insanity while I can.  

(**The kids have paint on their faces, by the way.  Dallas does NOT have a black eye.  Just wanted to clarify.  No need to call Child Services.  Thanks.)

"The Science of a Working Mother"

I have been slowly reading my way through Welcome to My World because I don't want to miss one word of any of the incredible essays.  There are pieces from working moms, stay-at-home moms, and moms who work from home.  As a SAHM, I don't know how the moms who work do it.  There are so many schedules to juggle, so many balls to keep in the air.  I have a hard enough time keeping everything functional chez Wells, and I'm at home all day.

"The Science of a Working Mother" by Amber Doty has prompted some serious self-reflection.  In her essay, Amber writes about her decision to be a working mom and how others assume she has to work.

"The raw truth of the matter is I want to work.  I want to work because just being a mother is not enough for me."


I think it's incredibly brave to admit that being a mother is simply not enough sometimes.  There isn't anything wrong with being a mom and staying at home, but for some, it may not be enough.  If staying at home is making a mother miserable, it may not be the best choice for that family.  Being a mom who leaves the house to work isn't always easy, though.

"...I have moments when leaving my children so I can go to work feels like an egregious crime against motherhood."


Amber writes in "The Science of a Working Mother" about the time when her son told her he hated her.  He wanted to stay home with her that morning, as he had wanted to in the past, but she was trying to get him dressed and out of the house so she could get to a meeting on time.  Harsh words to hear from your little boy, but she isn't the only one who has heard those words.  My own kids have never said they hated me, but they have said they didn't like me or they wanted a new mother.  Those words were said in fits of pique because teeth needed to be brushed or a request for a treat was denied.  I think it's a rite of passage for kids to want new parents at some point or another or to think they hate their parents.  What they don't know at the time is that (most) parental decisions are made out of everlasting, indestructible love.  And what we teach our children when they're young are lessons that last a lifetime. They watch what we do, and they hear what we say, even when we think they're not paying attention.

"It is my hope that one day my children, particularly my two year old daughter, will view my decision to work, to pursue a dream conceived long before they were, as an inspiration , as proof that you really can have it all.  I hope that they will view parenthood as an experience that is life-enriching, not life-limiting."


Isn't that what it's all about, after all?  Our job as parents is to teach our children so that they can eventually grow up and be productive adults, parents or not.  We need to show them how to live fulfilling lives that they can share with others.  Learning about kindness and acceptance will take them a long way.  No matter if we're working outside the home, working from home, or staying at home, we are all doing the best we can with what we have.  We ALL love our children and give them our best, no matter how stunning or lacking our best is, every single day.

Reading Amber's essay made me realize that we all need to support each other.  People make different choices, and different doesn't necessarily mean wrong.  Being a parent is hard enough without being condemned by others.  We all make the choices we think are best for our family.  Everybody has a story; maybe we all need to be listening to what is in each other's hearts instead of judging each other's actions.

If you'd like to read all of "The Science of a Working Mother" by Amber Doty, click here or here.  You should also hop over to The Daily Doty and Kid Scoop at babble.com to see more of Amber's writing.  Trust me: it's worth the trip.

Welcome to my World

When I decided to stay at home with my first child, it was an easy decision.  Trevor and I both agreed that it would work best for our family to have someone home.  The decision was made even easier when we ended up with two kids under the age of two.  But it's not an easy decision for everyone; it's not even feasible for a lot of families.  I'm lucky to be able to stay home, but it's not always a bed of roses.

I'm proud to be a part of a fabulous group of women who have explored the topic of motherhood: stay-at-home moms versus working moms and moms who work from home.  We all do what's best for our families, so there are really no sides.  In Welcome to My World, an ebook available at amazon.com, you can read about all kinds of moms and how we all juggle motherhood and our "real" lives.

Buy Welcome to My World on amazon.com for the Kindle.
Buy Welcome to My World on barnesandnoble.com for the Nook.

Don't have an ereader?  No problem!  You can download the Kindle reader or Nook for free onto your PC or Mac.

Edit on the update

I know I can edit the last post but I feel like it deserves its own post.

We took the kids to a movie yesterday in the theater, Lottie's second movie and Dallas's first.  I realized that they're growing up and getting older, which may be silly because it's just a movie, right?  I started thinking about missing the fact that Lottie and Dallas aren't babies anymore, but that's not really what I miss.  I don't necessarily miss getting up at all hours of the night or not understanding the little baby cries.  I'm still changing Dally's diapers, so I haven't had a chance to miss diapers yet.

What I am dreading is the day the kids don't need me anymore.  In my heart, I know that they'll always need me.  I mean, I'm 38 years old, and I still need my mom.  But there will come a day when the kids think they don't need me, and that's gonna kill me.  I do everything for them right now: feed them, clothe them, play with them, laugh with them, scold them, hug them, soothe boo-boos, read to them, exclaim over their drawings, break up their fights, watch them dress up in silly outfits, and tuck them in at night.  I'm there for them; I'm ALWAYS there for them.

Someday, and I know it will be sooner than I think, they're going to think they can do it all themselves.  I'm going to have to let them think that and do what they need to do because that's the whole point of raising kids, to make them independent.  But where does that leave me?  I'll be a chauffeur, but I hope that's not my only role.  I don't want to be left behind, especially when I am giving so much now to make them into responsible, loving, caring adults.  I just hope they continue to come to me their whole lives and know that even though I get frustrated (a lot), I would do it all again for them.