Mom in the Spotlight: M.K. Victorson

M.K. Victorson describes herself as a teacher, mommy, and itinerant thespian. After arriving in Chicago in 1996, M.K. ended up dancing with the Chicago Moving Company, dancing for several independent choreographers, and creating her own dance theatre works. In 2003, she created and produced  A Thousand Points of Lite: MK Victorson on Church and State, a show about life as a preacher’s kid in the 1980s.

Following her early days as a dancer, M.K. found herself performing original solo plays, choreographing for theatre, and studying sketch comedy writing at Second City.

While performing in Chicago, M.K. worked steadily as a teaching artist for Gallery 37, Reading in Motion, The Chicago Children’s Museum and Hubbard Street Dance. Loving her work as an arts educator led M.K. to pursue her education degree and teaching certification in 2007. Though she graduated smack in the middle of a recession, M.K. eventually landed her dream teaching job at Murphy School where she teaches dance and drama to K-8^th graders.

These days, M.K. is busy teaching and being a mommy to Charlie (5) and Poppy (1 year). She is married to Rob, an artist and arts administrator. She choreographs dance numbers for the sketch comedy group Gayco, writes a blog called Tiny Dancers http://mv-tinydancers.blogspot.com/ about life with the kiddoes , and creates the occasional Flash Mob.

Where were you in your career when your children were born?

When Charlie was born, I was acting a little, doing solo performance, and writing comedy. I was still fairly active as a choreographer and teacher. I had mostly stopped dancing, as in taking classes and performing.

How has motherhood changed the course of your work in dance?  If it hasn’t, how are you staying on the artistic path you originally set out on?

I had started to really pursue teaching and I had gone back to school to get my teaching degree. I was ready to slow down on the dancing because I was getting into other areas of my artistic life: writing, doing comedy, doing theatre. I really enjoyed those new ventures and wanted to pursue them.

Now I am a half time dance/drama teacher in CPS and I have the greatest job at the most wonderful school! I still do a little choreography for comedy groups, but I really miss writing. I don’t have time for much more than teaching and being a mom.

Sleep is as precious and fleeting as money for parents.  What’s a typical night for you?

Nights are okay now. Charlie goes to bed at 8:30 and Poppy shortly after. If I was smart I would follow them, but I usually stay up until 10:30 doing dishes, working on school stuff, or watching the Real Housewives of the OC.

On Fridays, I follow this routine with a glass of wine and chocolate. Both kids sleep through the night and get up around 6:30. Sometimes Poppy gets up in the night, but she usually goes right back down.

I am always tired.

Describe your work/kid balance during an average weekday.

Umm, balance?

Uhh…..well hubby leaves for work at 8am. I am home with the kids until about 10:30. We leave and drop Poppy at daycare and Charlie and I go to school (Charlie is in pre-K at my school) Charlie and I have lunch and then he goes to his class and I start work. A sitter picks him up after school and watches him until 4 or 5pm. When I am done with afterschool classes or prep, I pick up Charlie and then Poppy. We go home, make dinner, have baths, and put the kids to bed. (Rob, my husband, joins us around 6:30)

What’s your favorite form of exercise these days? Lifting a wine glass to my face on Friday nights. If I had more time, I would be in yoga class 4 days a week. I love love love yoga.

Describe your parenting style in five words or less.

It takes a village.            

That translates to: save me from any guilt associated with dropping my kids off at a sitter, working, or having a moment to myself.

How did you think motherhood would affect your ability to practice your art form as you knew it?   Where were you on target in your assumptions?  Where were you wrong?  What new approaches or attitudes to working developed?

I thought it would help me transition into the next phase or two of my artistic and arts education career. I also expected to struggle to find the time to create. Both expectations were accurate.

As far as new approaches, I am a lot choosier about the small projects and opportunities that come my way. I want anything I spend time on outside of my family to be really worthwhile.


I see you're a fellow blogger.  Why did you start blogging?

I started the blog to make sure I was writing down all the funny things that were being said in my house, between the big people and the small ones. I wanted to write more stories and dialogues, not just bits on my facebook status, so that I could remember these moments when the kids were older. When I found out that my son had autism spectrum disorder, I realized that I needed a place to write more than ever. 

In what ways was dancing good preparation for motherhood?

It taught me to think on my feet and be on my feet for hours on end. And I learned how to live on a serious budget.

How do you stay in shape?  Has your attitude about your body changed since giving birth? 

I don’t, at the moment. But I’m trying to get there. I go to a gym and take as much yoga as I can.

My attitude? Let’s just say I wouldn’t turn down a free tummy tuck...

Do you see your movement abilities at all reflected in your children?

Charlie is a beautiful improvisational dancer. He will break it on down! Poppy has ballerina feet like me - my feet are the only part of me that look remotely dancer-like.

Please, MK, I've seen those legs!  Do you want your children to dance?

Yes! Recreationally and for study, if that's what they want.  It comes down to the fact that I want my kids to do what makes them happy. If that means dancing professionally, then I will stand by them.  I had very supportive, creative parents who understood that I wanted to perform and be a gypsy artist. Of course, as a parent, I'll have to ask the hard questions like, "Does the Joffrey/David Parsons/the Pussycat Dolls intend to provide you with health insurance?" 

The Wednesday Why: About Dinner

Dinner is my favorite meal.  It’s the celebration of the end of the day.  It’s the meal that involves more forethought than the others, and is generally more nutritionally balanced, creative and interesting.  Family dinner conjures up an image of everyone sitting around the table enjoying a yummy meal and each other’s company. 

Apparently, I have seen too many commercials for Pillsbury crescent rolls.

Naturally sometimes dinner does look like the all-American ideal.  Sometimes I manage to get my chopping and other prep done early so everyone, or at least the kids, is sitting down to eat by 6:15 p.m.  But usually, what happens is, we stay too long at the playground or a playdate, so I wind up frantically throwing something together, with children screaming and hanging on my pants so that my ass is hanging out as I hustle and bustle around our kitchen.  It’s funny, but also humiliating – not at all what I thought my life would look like.

There’s also the scenario where I have my act together. When I chose a kid-pleasing recipe (one based on something they’ve liked before), bought all the ingredients, did the prep during naptime, prepared everything carefully and lovingly and no one will eat a thing.  Maybe I fed them too many just-keep-out-of-my-hair snacks. Maybe they just don’t like what I’ve got.  I know that the eating habits of a young child are as predictable as Rihanna’s hairstyles, and I shouldn’t take it personally, but I can’t help feeling betrayed, hoodwinked, exploited, frustrated, enraged and heartbroken. 

So, here’s the Wednesday why - Why is dinner so damned hard?  And if it’s not for you, then what’s your secret?

This post was requested by an MNS reader.  If there’s a topic you’d like to hear about, let me know!

Vacational Studies

No, Mom’s New Stage hasn’t gone dark!

The family and I took our show on the road, which as a wise friend of mine calls it, is what you do when you go away with young children.  Basically it’s your same old schtick, except in a new place.  We went to St. Joseph, Michigan, a charming town on the Lake Michigan shoreline, two hours from our Chicago home.  Like any time with small children, it had some high highs, and some low lows, all of which added up to a truly terrific vacation.

I won’t bore you with the blog equivalent of sitting through someone’s vacation photos. Instead, I’ll wax philosophic on some of the topics that made our vacation what it was. 

Packing

The only thing I find more upsetting than packing for a trip is a three-way with Dick Cheney and Snooki.  Yes, I hate packing that much!  There is so much potential to overpack, underpack or mispack, like when you think your trip is going to be like an episode of Sex in the City, and due to bad luck or bad planning, your clothing instructions might as well have been “Please dress like an extra in an Applebee’s commercial.”

Add to this the task of packing up two small children. Which means, aside from all the crap one needs to meet every possible contingency during a week at the beach, we’d be bringing diapers (regular and swim), wipes, a stroller, a pack and play, a booster seat, sippy cups, bottles, some child friendly cutlery, toys, bath toys, beach toys, their favorite bath towels and books.  Of course there were stores nearby, but did we really want to spend our time searching for and shopping in the local Wal-something? For the first time in my life, I lamented the fact that our family vehicle wasn’t a Winnebago.  Our ride is a Honda CR-V, a car that fits our family and fits into almost any parking spot in the city.  I considered renting a car, as well as, investigating how to get a roof rack, before realizing that was bulls—t.  If we couldn’t fit it in the car, we’d taken too much.

But somehow, Hubs did get everything into the car, leaving the back window clear and us in the front seat without suitcases in our laps and our noses pressed against the windshield.  Truly a testament to his packing skills, the more-than-you’d-think cargo space of our little car and the fact that maybe we’d packed okay after all. 

Driving

We timed our ride to coincide with the kids’ naps.  But we left an hour late, and as we all know, but can’t fully understand, overtired children don’t sleep well.  Both Riley and Aria were sound asleep twenty minutes into the drive.  We praised the Gods.  When we stopped at a toll, twenty minutes later, both were wide awake. 

I spent the rest of the ride placating/force feeding the kids with veggie booty, their water bottles, grapes, every snack I could get my hands on.  About a half hour from St. Joe I heard a whistling sound from the back.  The driver’s side rear door, next to Riley, was not fully closed!  Of course the indicator light was on, but neither of us noticed.  Oh, CR-V, you can be packed like a drug smuggler’s belly, but why can’t you TALK?!

I wasn’t sure if the door hadn’t been closed properly from the get go, when we snapped Riley in, or if he had somehow been fiddling with it.  Must we tie his hands and feet during car rides? My overactive imagination went berserk, envisioning Riley being sucked out of the car like some sci-fi character, the fully open door then being ripped off by a semi, or J pulling over on the shoulder to close the door and getting…. 

I sat, my heart palpitating, willing J to drive both slower and faster, and wondered if we’d run out of gas before the effing next exit.  Finally we pulled into a particularly shady looking McDonald’s, closed the door and impressed upon our firstborn that if he so much as looked at that door his hand would fall off. 

The Beach

At our first vacation with Riley, when he was nine months old, we were stupid enough to bring reading material.  Like bringing a six pack to the symphony!  This time we didn’t dare.  With two kids the beach is like the playground – it requires constant supervision and maintenance.  Did the kids have enough sunscreen?  Were they running too close to the road/water? John said two words to each other, only to turn to see fifteen-month old Aria gunning into the waves and falling on her face.  I sprinted to her, scooping up my sputtering and screaming little girl.  The waves were strong – what if we’d caught her five seconds later?  I envied the parents who could lie down and relax, as their kids ran in and out of the lake and built sand castles.

Still it was fabulous to see the joy, freedom and awe on the kids’ faces.  The kids, especially Aria, loved chasing seagulls.  They also loved getting wet and rolling in the sand, like chicken ready for the fryer.  To them, the beach was like the biggest sandbox ever.   Aria continued to run straight into the water even after her incident.  Clearly Riley adores the beach, and we hope Aria does too, because in this family, she doesn’t have much choice.  And as for me, someone for whom the beach is like church, I made sure to leave while the kids napped with John, so I could sit and read by the water, all by myself.

Restaurants

On my birthday, my wonderfully sweet husband wanted to celebrate with a nice dinner.  I thought we’d go someplace kid friendly and fun.  When we walked in to the restaurant of the Boulevard Inn, the nicest place in town, my Negative Nancy got her cockles up.  There were some other children there, but still, things did not look good. Aria had recently taken to yelling, “Nooow!” - a sound that married a bobcat and a lady about to have her purse stolen.  I envisioned diners glaring at us, and being asked to leave. 

“What were you thinking?”  I hissed, as we scanned the menu.

“I wanted to do a nice dinner for your birthday,” J answered.  “I wanted to do something like the dinners we used to do.”

Sigh.  But since I had resolved for the ahem anniversary of my 29^th birthday not to be such a you-know-what on wheels, I decided to try to have a nice time.

And we did, even though I ate my entrée like a contestant in a pie-eating contest and the servers didn’t sing to me because I was on my fourth keep-quiet walk to the lobby with the kids.  It was good, however, to be at a nice place eating a nice dinner. All the eating out we did taught me how to enjoy myself while keeping the kids somewhat in check. Riley generally does well at restaurants and Aria is fine once the food comes. For their age, their dining-out conduct is on target.  All kids screech and squirm at a dinner out – it’s a really long time for them to sit.  In terms of disciplining our kids, we’re pretty sensitive to other diners.  But if anyone says anything to me about their behavior, honey, it is ON.

The Cultural Experience

Hubs and I had forgotten what it’s like to really attract attention.  Not the passing glance kind, but full on stares.  Some people almost crashed their cars.  Seriously.  If you smiled at some of the starers, they’d smile back, especially those who were taken by our kids.  Others looked away or remained stonefaced, signaling some not so nice thoughts, bad manners and/or the intellect of a mothball.

But when J and I talked about all the attention we got, I remembered that I too gawk at interracial couples.  And when I’m alone, and I smile sheepishly and look away, I’m sure I raise the same questions.  At the yummy pizza joint in town, we noticed a table full of college age kids.  They were a U.N. of pretty people - black, white, Asian, Latino and South Asian, and I couldn’t help staring at them myself.

The multitude of reasons, both benevolent and unkind, people stare at couples like us is impossible to know.  In the long term, I hope that education, tolerance and understanding will diminish some of the more shocked and hostile stares. That and the Tiny Feyesque, pithy, withering comment all not-the-norm couples should have at the ready.

The Carousel

Every day, sometimes twice a day, we rode on the Silver Beach Carousel.  It was Riley’s favorite thing to do.  Because he was happy we all were. (Well, maybe not Aria.) Watching him weigh which animal to ride, then his growing anticipation as he sat waiting for the ride to begin, and the pure bliss on his face as he sailed around and around was worth the organ music that burrowed itself in my brain like a tic. 

Of course, our trip wasn’t a vacation brochure where that family of four, clearly in love with each other, holds hands and frolics on the beach.  Our trip did have moments of contentment, laughter and even utter joy, but there was also plenty of problem solving, scheduling and overcoming great anguish (Truly. Stay tuned for that post...).  I love my family even more after this vacation – it’s the most time the four of us have ever spent together.  As a group we are all adaptable, fun loving, and supportive of one another.  We take three hours and at least two false starts to leave the house.  One of us is always in a foul mood.  And we make it work.  Like Riley on the carousel, we go up and down and around and around, cycling through spaces both in our minds and in the world.  We take it all in, and when everything aligns just right, we break out in a huge smile, our happiness overwhelming us. 

Mom in the Spotlight: Rachel Newton

After eight years as a professional ballet dancer, Rachel Newton traded pointe shoes for construction documents in 1998 when she enrolled in the Pratt School of Architecture. After starting her career as Principal Designer and Project Manager for various private residences, Rachel joined Elmslie Osler Architect (EOA) as Senior Designer and Project Manager. At EOA, Rachel spearheaded major overhauls of private New York residences and commercial buildings. Most of her work, however, focused on creating new retail concepts for the Anthropologie brand of Urban Outfitters, Inc. As often as possible, Rachel’s designs incorporate sustainability strategies, such as the layers of sunscreening wood slats across the façade of the Anthropologie store in Huntsville, Alabama, or the reclaimed barn wood portal for the entrance of the Albuquerque, New Mexico store.  Rachel has returned to being Principal Designer and Project Manager, as a freelancer and consultant, beginning with two commercial projects: the conversion of a 5,000 square foot industrial loft space in an old brewery into an eco-friendly creative hub for the branding firm, BBMG, and the conversion of a raw space in the Gowanus area of Brooklyn into a lounge featuring artisinal cocktails and seasonal food. Rachel is also a documentary photographer, her chosen focus the work environments within obscure cultures. Her most elaborate essay is a six-year book project entitled Keep Iced that documents the Fulton Fish Market during its last days.  Some of Rachel’s honors include the 2009 American Institute of Architects New York State Design Award of Excellence and Interior Design Magazine’s 2009 Best of the Year Merit Award.

How many children do you have?  Boys?  Girls?

1 girl

How old is she?  

3 years, 4 months

Where were you in your career when your children were born?

I was doing well but putting in a lot of extra hours at a small architecture firm as a senior designer. I had been there since 2006. My daughter was born in 2008. I had freelanced prior, following graduation from architecture school and was enjoying not working in a solitary bubble.

You had a career change before motherhood came into the picture.  What made you leave ballet to study architecture?

Chronic injuries brought my ballet career to an end. I had told myself that I would stop when I reached 30, so that I could easily begin another career and not feel too old. I didn’t make it. At 26, I left Fort Worth/Dallas Ballet.  I had been attending numerous auditions and had had a great experience with a small creative company in San Francisco. Knowing, however, that there were no openings, I was not motivated to hang out, take classes, waitress and wait for someone to get injured. I also felt like my clock was ticking. Not to sound pitiful, but I did feel like damaged goods with my injuries.

I had always been interested in architecture. As a high school student, I had applied to architecture schools. After much reflection, I gave myself the chance to pursue a professional career in dance, something that could not wait. There is a shared language between ballet and architecture. Both are rooted in classical traditions organized by proportion, lines, and space. Both forms strive for and challenge the notion of Beauty. Architecture is an extension of the body, its behaviors and culture. It orchestrates a form of choreography between its occupants, tactile materials, and nature’s elements.

There is an impatient side to me to feel like I am moving forward. Upon leaving the company, I signed up for architecture classes at a state university in Texas to see if I would still be captivated by the field. I persevered, albeit with a lot of questioning. If I had been 30 and injury-free, things might have been different. After devoting over 20 years to dance, it is not an easy thing to leave. While your body is struggling to stay in its prime, you are just beginning to really mature artistically.

I still wrestle with the hard reality of sitting in front of a computer playing with lines on a screen for hours on end. I’ve gone from one extreme to the other. My knees are not thanking me in the day-to-day immobile lifestyle. Complain, complain.

When did you realize your attraction to and talent for photography?

While at architecture school at Pratt, I fell in love with photography. Every cell in my body felt alive when I was shooting and documenting the world around me. It was like a performance. I did not change majors, however, my goal was and is to always make photography a part of my life.  My daughter has taught me something about videography as she won’t stop moving.

Has motherhood changed the course of your career?  If not, how are you staying on the artistic path you originally set out on?

Yes. To the say the least, it has challenged my priorities and immediate ambitions that have always been focused on career. After a generous maternity leave due to accrued over-time hours at the architecture firm I was at, I went back part-time. And then, the recession and a loss of key clients forced the firm to scale down in employees. I volunteered to go, as working part-time was a financial wash for us. I wanted to use this time to assess my direction and my role as a creative, whether it was in architecture or elsewhere. I spoke to a lot of people and toyed with a lot of business ideas.  I started a blog about vodka and gin infusions. I am not scared to be entrepreneurial. Six to seven months into it, I agreed to partner with someone I had talked to my very first week of unemployment - someone with a vision to open a lounge/restaurant. I invested a lot of sweat-equity and money into childcare, working steadily three plus days a week for five months on the design.  Then, a lack of investment money brought it to a halt. A lot of lessons were learned. I am back to trying to find my direction.

Mothers often feel as though they are torn between motherhood and the part of them that misses doing, being or having something else.  Can you speak about this a little?

There is a lot of guilt to take on. You feel terribly guilty, not working. No matter what you read or people say, it is challenging to feel like an equal to my husband, as I am not contributing financially. When I’ve worked part-time at home, I feel guilty constantly trying to steal away to check emails, make a phone call, whatever. When I was working in an office part-time, there is conflict within when thinking about another person, not you, witnessing your child’s development. I am sure if I were working full-time, I would feel even more guilty.

However, when I am working, when I have that time to walk by myself to the subway, read on the train, get lost in my thoughts, sit down and get things done, it can feel really good.

Do you have any plans for when your daughter is in school full time and your days have a different focus?

Come the fall, my daughter will be in pre-school five days a week for a few hours, and I won’t be there. It is our first drop-off experience. I would like to be home when my daughter gets home. It would be nice to find part-time or freelance work. If it is creative, great! I actually don’t think I could take a job if I didn’t feel it was valuable or it didn’t seem challenging. And, if it pays well, that would be really great. It would be so much easier to find a full-time job than to do part-time work, or pursue my own project.  So, amidst all the floundering on my part, I just finalized my portfolio, resume and website. Right now, I am enjoying that satisfaction of completion, and I am following some leads.

What wisdom would you like to share with other mothers, especially those who might feel a loss of self as a result of motherhood?

First, talk to other like-minded moms. It really helps to hear their stories, struggles and self-questioning. It won’t feel so lonely.  But, let go of those conversations that increase the feeling of guilt or inadequacy.  A friend of mine, who happens to be single and childless, proposed that we get together bi-monthly to organize our ambitions and goals. I think that’s a tremendous idea.  I think that many of us could benefit from an inquisitive and inspiring ear.

I have a fantasy for moms and dads. There are so many parents out there, smart and creative, who because of parenthood, want more control of schedule and more satisfaction in their careers to justify being away from their child or children. I think it is a ripe culture for creative and unusual partnerships.

To view Rachel’s work, please visit www.rachelnewton.com.

The Wednesday Why

I realize the irony of this question, but it rings true, at least for me...


Why does it seem like my children are actively preventing me from being the fabulous mom I'm capable of being?

Top Ten Tuesday: Ten Suggestions When They JUST. WON'T. %$#@ing. NAP!

1. Cry.  Despite what those focus-on-the-positive ninnies say, you have every right to be pissed off.  You’re exhausted and have been looking forward to this afternoon nap since you woke up, and now your chances of a decent break are fading away like bookstores.  What a suckfest!  So do it - wallow, feel sorry for yourself, sob if you have to, because, honey, the break you deserve today probably ain’t happenin’.

2. Pick Yourself Up By Your Brastraps and Deal.  You are the adult here, so even though you want to scream, “Calgon, take me away!” and find yourself magically ensconced in your palatial bathroom soaking away in your garden-sized tub, you have to take control.  Splash some cold water on your face and tell yourself YOU. WILL. GET.THROUGH.THE. AFTERNOON.  And it goes without saying, without abusing things that come in bottles or bags, or putting a bottle of something into a bag…

3. Soothe and Cuddle. Do whatever it takes to get your little one(s) to calm down.  If you have to carry up to 50 pounds worth of kid(s) around the house for a few minutes, then c’est la vie.  Surely shoulders up to your hairline and a sore back are worth a few minutes future peace!  If you can cuddle and hug a child without mellowing out at least somewhat, you are one mean blankety-blank. (Hint: Shaft is a bad one.)

4. Read.  The goal here is to keep your ass on the couch for as long as possible! Read as much as you possibly can.  If your children lose interest and move away from the sofa, give them the book and let them pretend to read to themselves, or for talkers, let them make up stories or “read” to you.  If that fails, you just keep on reading, even if they're jumping up and down on the cushions and using the sofa as a vaulting horse.

5. TV.  For better or worse, for most kids the TV is a magnet.  If you don’t believe in TV, then (chuckle), I’m sorry about that!  Anyhoo, and I can’t stress this enough, YOU MUST KEEP YOUR ASS ON THE SOFA! You can take the high road and do PBS kids or indulge yourself/kill off a few brain cells by watching some show that includes the words Moms or Housewives.  If you do choose the latter, just be quick with a channel change or a hand to the eyes when that violent, sexy teaser for a hot lady cop show suddenly pops up.

6. Tire them out.  By now you should have had a decent amount of ass-on-couch time, and should be ready to get physical.  Put the baby in a jumperoo or exersaucer.  With toddlers and preschoolers, you can play chasing games, have a dance/gymnastics party or a ticklefest, it’s all good.  Let them go crazy!  And don’t be afraid of a MINOR fall – a little crying jag will bring that nap even closer!

7. Laughter.  We all know the saying, “If I didn’t laugh, I’d cry.” So why not make everyone happy?  Unleash your inner Jim Carrey, and be as ridiculous as possible.  Make funny faces, invent silly words, fall, drop things – if they’re laughing you’re doing your job.  Don’t worry about making a mess – hopefully, you’ll get your break, and hey, your to-do list is already a mile long! What’s a little more housework, anyway?  It will do you good to take a hiatus from being that bitchy downer of a mom you’ve become!

8. Take a Mommy Time Out.  Kids find this hysterical!  And this is killing two birds with one stone - you make 'em laugh and get a break.  Now, I did say that you are an adult, and locking yourself in the bathroom is totally unacceptable. I suggest you find a place where you can see them, but they can't see you so well, like, say, on the stairs, or even under a table.  Call a friend or get sucked into Facebook!  Whatever, just experiment with that laissez-faire parenting everyone's talking about, and peace out, grrrrl!

9. Pray.  I don’t care what religion you are or not.  You NEED prayer right now.  Get down on your knees and close your eyes, or fixate on something in your home, such as that picture of Great Uncle Fred on the mantle or the two-day-old Cheerios      sculpture petrifying in the playroom.  If movement is your bag, visualize your kid(s) asleep in bed as you do paddle turns (Your littles will love it, see # 7!).  While spinning, you can beg forgiveness for whatever you’ve done to deserve this.

10. Try again.  Put them down once more.  They are tired.  You are tired.  And by now, if you don’t get a break you are certain something very bad might happen.  But in the event they don't sleep, you WILL figure out what to do. Remember, you're a good mother, dammit.  Get in the car to run errands, or go for a walk in the stroller; neither will give you a true break, but at least they'll be asleep.  Or maybe they’ll power on through the afternoon and go down early for the night.  No matter what, lady, you must know that at some point, on this day or the next, rest is coming.  

Living in the Moment

I’d like to learn how to live in the moment.  In modern urban life, this is an impossible feat to accomplish all the time, but surely I could do it MORE.  I spend too much of my time thinking about the supposed-tos and the what-ifs. About what I could, would and should do after, or do instead. Right now as I write I’m editing what I just typed, and trying to remember for future paragraphs the clever turns of phrase that pop in and out of my head like bubbles.

It doesn’t help that I’m super aware of what’s going on around me, and therefore very easily distracted. I do try to find beauty and calm. But then usually, my sensibilities are ambushed by something like a pimped out car, a ludicrously low sag or (white) leggings on ham thighs, and I want to crawl into a hole and mourn the state of the world.

It's no way to live.  

Since motherhood is all about multi-tasking, consistently planning, being hyper-observant and always trying to be one step ahead, it's making my little problem worse.  I spend my day rushing two little people - who want nothing more than to live in the moment - around so we can stick to a schedule.  If a schedule exists for their good and mine, why does it make us all so crazy?  Life has become about getting to the next need.  It's getting kids who are playing inside, outside, so they'll have enough time to enjoy being out-of-doors. Then once they're happy being out, it's about rushing them back in, to eat and/or nap.  It's how to end a playdate so there’s enough time to get to the grocery store and make dinner. And of course, some of the most zealous not living in the moment occurs during the bedtime ritual  - when desperately craved me-time is now within reach.

Part of this always thinking ahead issue stems from my all consuming fear of The Meltdown.  Add to that the immediate consequences of haphazard meals, overspending on take-out, and my anxiety that leaving the dishes dirty for too long will push our family down the slippery slope to squalor.  My overdramatic imagination goes into a full drama of slacker parenting – pre-packaged meals, too much screen time, no reading, a family schedule like that of an unemployed trust-fund pothead -  and I see my children in the year 2040, their greatest achievement having been working a 7-11 cash register.  Shudder. So, I keep us all rushing through the day, in order to get things done, get myself some time off and to make sure my children are, if not wunderkinds, then well-rested, well-nourished, physically coordinated and intellectually stimulated little people.

During all this hustle-bustle, I sometimes remember that I'm not really interacting with my kids - I'm not really enjoying them and vice-versa.  I wrestle to change Aria's diaper and get her dressed without talking to her.  So involved am I in getting sippy cups filled and Cheerios into snack cups, that I'm not singing songs, or making  conversation with my children.  It’s as though I’m taking orders like a short order cook, trying to get everything right, so as not to offend my customers.  And sometimes I spend the better part of the day yearning for their nap.  Am I so involved in what I need to do to keep the house running and to meet everyone's needs that I'm hurtling through a very sweet time with my little ones?

But the craziness does make the pure moments stand out.  A hug where Riley or Aria nestles in to the crook of my neck and I can nuzzle his/her hair.  Driving around listening to music while everyone chats, sings or coos.  A family dinner where everyone is actually eating happily.  Watching the kids do “tumblebacon” (somersaults off the twin mattress in Aria’s room).   Sitting on our deck blowing bubbles and eating popsicles.  These moments do happen, the moments when all is right with my family and with the world.  When I can breathe.

Dancers live for muscle memory – when technical concepts and movement ideas cease to be merely cerebral and become a true extension of ourselves.  These moments are ecstatic, like how I imagine it would be to take flight.  These moments take work, and are hard won.  It appears to be the same with the pure, present episodes of parenting.  Maybe half the battle is accepting and valuing the fact that I've attained these blissful and rare moments, at all.