The Great Stay-At-Home Debate

I don't work.

I'm not receiving any mat leave payments.

And I have no set work plan for the near future.

(The neurotic-planner side to my persona is schvitzing right now.)

Most people know that I'm self-employed and have been asking if I'm working yet. And in conversations, the phrase often goes "When you go back to work"...

Not "if".

But... wait a minute. What if I don't go back to work? Is it okay if I'm a stay-at-home Mom? Is it okay if raising my children becomes my only work? Is that enough?

My generation was brought up being told that, as women, we should strive to do whatever we want. We have so many choices now. It's great if you have grand ambitions when it comes to your career. In fact, on International Women's Day, someone I know updated their Facebook status to "Here's to a world filled with more women CEOs".

But wait.

What if that's not what I want anymore? What if I'm an educated woman who chooses to put a career on the back burner? What if I swap being challenged mentally for cleaning poop and teaching my kids to tie their shoes?

I know the easy answer is to say "Of course it's okay! You can do whatever you want. You have the choice." But sometimes I wonder if that's how we all really feel.

As I referenced in my last blog, parents are now being told not to lose themselves in parenting too much. You need that "other" persona in order to be a good parent. You must be someone besides just "Mom".

So we go back to work. We solve problems and learn new things. We make important decisions. And that's good. It really is.

But what if you decide work's just not for you any more? Will you find a lot of other women are making your choice?

Let's see... out of all my Mom friends that I met on my first maternity leave, only a couple didn't return to work full time. (Including me). And out of all my girlfriends who have children, only one other Mom stays at home with her kids full time.

I wonder about the point in my life when my kids are going to school. If I'm not working, what the heck will I do? Is "running the household" too 1950s for me? Is there enough running of the household actually needed to fill my days?

A lot of questions. Not a lot of answers yet. I'm curious to hear from other Moms out there. What did you decide? How did you make your decision? Was it an easy one? If money were no object... what would you do?

I'm not sure of my identity yet. Can I have one without work? How do I answer the question, "What do you do?"

Maybe only time will tell.

In the meantime, tell me Moms. What do you do?

Have I lost myself already?

Sometimes I sit around thinking about my girls when they're teens. (And when I say "thinking", I really mean "worrying" like a neurotic person).

I wonder about millions of things. I wonder if they'll like me. I wonder if they'll think I hugged and kissed them enough as kids. I wonder if they'll have body issues because I said I didn't like my thighs one too many times. I'm always wondering if I'll be... good enough.

Perhaps it's because of the information out there. I can't open up my Facebook page, take a look at Twitter or glance at the newspaper without finding multitudes of articles on how to be a good parent.

Sleep with your babies so they'll feel secure. But let them experience frustration and failure from time to time or they won't develop important life skills. Make sure they get 3 hours of exercise a day. But introduce them to technology - it's the way of the future. Don't give them time outs because studies now show they're humiliating. But you must discipline your kids.

The latest that's twisting and turning in the back of my mind? Don't lose yourself in parenting. If you no longer have a sense of self, you won't model independence for your children. And you want your kids to grow up strong and independent.

That's an interesting one. So... be a good parent, but don't be *too* into it, because then you won't be yourself anymore?

Hmmm.

What am I doing right now? All I do are Mom things. I get up, get the kids up, change them, dress them, feed them breakfast. We go and play for the morning. We come home and have lunch and a nap. Then I change them, give them a snack, find some other activity to do until dinner, followed by bath and bed time. Then I do it all over again the next day.

I don't write anywhere near as much as I used to. I don't have a job all ready to go back to in a set amount of time. Sure, I run a few times a week and go out with friends every now and again. But while I'm out with friends, all we do is talk about our kids.

Is that a bad thing? Am I losing my pre-kid self? Should I give something up (like my coveted down time on the couch in front of the TV at night) so I can do things that make me more me?

The thing is, I'm not one of those people who can look at the piles of laundry or the long list of things that need to get done and just say "Forget you, stuff!" I have yet to get Anna's one-year photo shoot pictures printed and into an album... so it's not like I'm a supermom over here by any stretch. Some things just have to get done at some point. Which means even less time for me to do my "me" things.

So this is the newest worry.

As I sit here and watch Anna colouring and Lauren alternating between staring at me and the toys on her play mat, I wonder who they see.

Who will they see when they're grown up?

Will they see a person who loved being their Mom with every ounce of her being? Or will they see a woman who lost her sense of self?

Will they see a strong woman who chose to stay at home and devote her life to them because she wanted to? Or will they see a woman who only had menial tasks to fill her day?

Will they see a happy woman who loved to play and laugh with them? Or a tired one, drowning in laundry and dishes?

This is one of those things that I have no answer for. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing. I don't know if I'm leading by example for my daughters.

So I guess all I can do is close my eyes and take a giant leap of faith with my girls.

A giant leap. Into a big ol' ball pit where we'll roll around and giggle and be silly.

Because that's what I want to do and who I want to be right now.

For Anna

Dear Anna,

When you turned a year old, I wrote you a letter. It was a few days late, but I still managed to tell you how I felt, how you had changed my world and how amazing you are.

You're 2 now. Your birthday was about a month and a half ago... (I'm more than just a little late! This seems to happen all the time now.) But I figured it was better late than never.

So, my little Buttertart, how do I sum up another year of having you in my life? Another year of amazing highs, some tough lows, big milestones and simple moments that I'll remember forever?

I don't think I could do it all in one letter. How on earth could I put you - your personality, your quirks, your sense of humour - in a few words? You're so full of life, it's almost impossible to just simply write it down.

You're a spitfire, Anna. You're full of life. You love to run and play and jump and hang on monkey bars (already!) You yell happily and laugh and run around the house in circles when people come over to visit you.

You feel things intensely. When you're sick or in pain or frustrated - you really feel it. There's almost no consoling you at times. But when you're happy, you are so happy, you make everyone around you feel the same.

Sometimes I have to convince you to give me kisses - you're too busy for snuggling and kissing. You're busy reading books, or colouring, or playing with your play-doh. You're busy kicking a ball, pushing your little stroller around, playing with your cars or yelling out all the animal sounds you know.

And that's okay. Because every morning (or when you don't feel well), you like sitting in my lap and wrapping your little arms around me. You put your head on my chest, or nuzzle into my neck. And we hug.

(In fact, right now you're feeling tired and a bit out of sorts, so you're sitting right up against me on the couch, resting your little hand on my leg as you watch The Cat in the Hat).

You love being outside, picking up sticks, playing in sand, splashing in puddles, swinging in the swings and sliding down the slides at the park. We go outside all year round. In snowstorms and on the hottest days of the year, you still want to be outside.

You learned to talk this past year. You started with "Mommy" and "Daddy". Then you learned more and more every day. Now you talk in short sentences... and you're becoming a great little conversationalist.

You did a lot of teething between your first and second birthday. It was really hard on you. But when the pain went away, you were back to your usual self. Fun. Happy. Raring to go.

You started part time daycare when you were about 20 months old. You learned some rules and played with other kids. And you adapted so well. Mommy and Daddy were so proud of you.

And then Lauren came into your life. And again, you adapted so well. You've always been extremely gentle with your sister. You like to cover her in blankets and give her her soother when she needs it. You pat her head and wave hello to her in the mornings and before bed. You're concerned when she cries.

You've had a lot happen in your little world, Anna. And you've done so well. You've had some tough times when you're sick or in pain, but you're mostly happy and fun and silly. You know what you like and what you don't like. And you make it very clear.

And I love all of this about you, Anna. The world needs girls like you. I need a girl like you in my life. Because you keep me on my toes. You fill my life with more happiness and laughter and love than I ever thought possible.

I am so, so, so lucky to have you. Whether we're snuggling in your bed or chasing each other down the street on the way to the park, I love every, single second that I get to have with you.

My life is so much more than I ever wished for. And I feel like all I can do is say thank you and hope that my love is enough for you.

Thank you, Anna. For being your perfect little self.

Love,

Your adoring Mommy

The Buttertart and the Happy One

This is the third time I've attempted to sit down and write. And I'm only doing it right now because I was shamed by my toddler's Leapfrog laptop. That damn excited dog instructed Anna to "write a new blog entry!!!" which reminded me that I haven't written one in a dog's age.

(Did you see what I just did there? Dog's age? Leapfrog dog... Oh, I'm good.)

(Also? I'm delirious from lack of sleep.)

So anyway. I've long referred to Anna - my first little bundle of pride and joy - as the Buttertart. Andrew and I were discussing what our second born's cute little nickname should be.

"What about muffin?" Meh.

"Pancake?" Mmm... pancakes.

"How about Buttertart #2?" Hello, second child syndrome.

Then it came to me. The nickname has to be very different because my girls are extremely different. So we came up with Happy Baby.

(Yes, it's very original and well thought out and clever and all that. I know. Again - I'm going on little sleep lately. I'm not exactly creative right now.)

However, it is *very* fitting. This child smiles at everyone and everything. I used to feel all special when she would smile at me as I went into her room to get her up for the day. Then I saw her smiling at the owl painted on her wall. And the ceiling fan. And a lamp.

We're lucky. Happy Baby is very relaxed and laid back. She doesn't at all protest when we leave her in the bouncy chair of neglect to focus on her more demanding sister.

She doesn't mind having her diaper changed - or hanging out in her crib now and again while we wrestle her sister to the ground to change her diaper.

And Happy Baby will actually drift off to sleep from wide awake if we put her in her crib with the Ocean Wonders Aquarium on at bed time. No rocking... no shushing... no sitting in the dark on a hard chair in her bedroom while we listen to her play with her soothers and wait for her go to sleep. She'll lay there and do it herself.

So I've got a Buttertart and a Happy Baby. Very different from each other right now.

But both very cute, more fun than I ever could have imagined, and both incredibly, intensely adored.

And more importantly, both pretty squishy and kissable too.

The mind wanders...

I was out running the other day... (I use the term "running" loosely. It was more of a rapid mall-walk type thing). Anyway, as I was out by myself, getting a moment to think, I found my mind wandering.

Do you ever have these thoughts? One minute I'm thinking "Gotta keep running, gotta push myself..." and the next minute, without any segue of any kind, I'm thinking "Holy hell, how am I the mother of two children???"

It just suddenly strikes me every now and again that I am an adult. For real.

For the most part, I'm a bit of a goof. I like to be silly. And, despite the grey hairs my head is sprouting, I feel young. Too young to be considered a grown up with real responsibilities.

Sometimes I find my life just seems so surreal. How did I end up with a house and a car? Am I really running my own business? And who the heck allowed me to have two kids??

Anna is mine. Her hair, her pale skin, her 10 little fingers and 10 little toes exist only because of my husband and I. Lauren is ours, too. She's thriving because my body is producing the stuff she needs to live.

We can keep humans alive with our boobs, ladies! This is big stuff, no?

I don't know if this feeling ever goes away. The fact that I have 2 kids, that they're part of me and my husband, that I'm responsible for keeping them healthy and happy and not screwed up in the head... it just amazes me.

Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky. I wonder how this maternal instinct just knew to naturally kick in. I wonder how life could possibly get any cooler.

Then I look at their little faces. And I realize I've got a lifetime of amazed feelings and thoughts ahead of me.

And I feel happy to be a grown up.

For real.

My baby girls

My children are both working their Mama.

Not only is my toddler getting too smart, she has now joined forces with her baby sister to turn me into mush and wrap me around their chubby little fingers.

This morning, as I was laying in bed, I heard delicate footsteps come quickly padding into my dark room. I felt little hands on my arm. And when I rolled over to face the side of the bed and turned on my light, I saw a pair of bright blue eyes, adorned with the most incredible eyelashes, staring at me.

"Pig!" Anna exclaimed happily as she showed me her stuffed animal.

Today was going to be a good day. Anna was in a good mood.

So, as Lauren slept soundly, Anna and I got up and did all our usual things - I made my coffee, started making oatmeal. Anna had a banana, yelled happily about her toys, her cup, the snow outside. That sort of thing.

Afterwards, when Lauren was up, I was in Anna's room putting away her laundry. Lauren was laying on Anna's bed staring at the ceiling, so I asked Anna to come entertain her sister.

"Lauren wants to play with you, honey" I said.

Anna came roaring into the room (as she does) and got up on her bed.

"Boo!" she said, holding up a book for Lauren to see. She opened it up to a page and held it right in front of Lauren's eyes so she could see it. After a minute, she threw the book down and picked up one of her toys - again, holding it up in front of Lauren so she could take a look.

"Ow!" Anna yelled. I turned around to see her holding up her hand.

"Oh... Did you hurt your hand? Do you want a kiss?" I asked. Anna responded by holding her hand up to Lauren's mouth for a minute. I laughed and Anna looked up at me with a smile - happy to find she had done something funny.

Next, Anna decided Lauren would like to see her jump. So she bounced around on her bed - always gentle, always careful - while Lauren lay there, being jostled around ever so slightly.

When we moved into Lauren's room to put away her laundry, I propped Lauren up in her crib with the nursing pillow. Anna attempted to scale the side of the crib before yelling "HOW!" (Her version of "help"). So I plopped her into the crib with her sister.

And then my toddler really got me. She grabbed onto my heart, turned my limbs into liquid and made my entire being melt. With just a few simple moments.

Anna sat crossed-legged in front of Lauren, her hands in her lap, smiling goofily at her baby sister. She pressed Lauren's Ocean Wonders Aquarium, and when it started to play, Anna looked at me, looked at Lauren, smiled even bigger and started swaying back and forth to the music. She patted Lauren's tummy and let out a little laugh. She leaned over and kissed Lauren's head and lay the side of her face on Lauren's chest.

And then...

And then Lauren smiled.

She smiled the biggest 6-week old smile I've seen from her yet. Her gorgeous little eyes lit up. For her big sister.

For the girls, it was just a simple, regular morning.

For me, it was so much more.

Cookie? What cookie?

My toddler is getting too smart.

Today, the little buttertart pulled me by the hand to the kitchen and pointed to a tin sitting on our counter - a tin she has never seen before - and said "coo-ee!" over and over again.

Yes, there were cookies inside. But how the heck did she know?

So I did what Moms do sometimes. I lied to my kid.

"Sorry honey, the cookies are all gone. No cookies! All gone! Cookies all gone!"

She looked at me with a furrowed brow. I got down to her level (as I've been told by experts to do to help her understand what I'm saying) and repeated myself.

"No cookies, honey. Sorry."

She looked at me and started saying something I couldn't quite understand. I kind of stared at her for a moment... Just enough time for her to get frustrated with me. "Mommy! Coo-ee!!" she yelled while pointing at my face.

"I don't know what you mean, sweetie." I replied.

So she touched a spot on my face. And when she pulled her finger away, there was a brown spot on it.

Chocolate.

I wiped my mouth and realized I had a huge blob of chocolate chip on my face.

Awesome. I had just been caught red-handed. So I grabbed the tin and gave her a cookie. "Here you go, honey. Have a cookie."

She smiled and trotted off.

I stood in the kitchen for a moment, watching her walk away happily, realizing I had been found out by a 23-month old.

The kid. She's too smart for her own good.

Mama's in trouble.