Entry #4 - Irrational Fear of Mine

Dear Diary,

I fear it will happen one day.

One day, after a particularly rough night with next-to-no sleep, I'll be so spaced out and energy-deprived that I'll do the most unimaginable, horifically embarassing thing and everyone in the office will be sorry.

I apologize for the overly graphic nature of the fear I am about to relay, but I just can't help myself...

Everyday at 10 a.m. and 3 p.m. I find myself in a closet, sitting in an uncomfrotable office chair, with a plastic "flange" (that's what they call it) held to my chest and a whiney machine rythmically beating out curse words (or what I imagine to be curse words) as it milks me like a cow. 

I sit there for 15 minutes at a time, checking facebook on my cellphone, and counting down the seconds until my nursing days are a thing of the past. I hate pumping, but I do what I have to do to keep my supply and give my daughter a little of the "good" stuff while I work.

That being said, I'm a bit of a lazy pumper. While I own a dual pump, I don't pump all at once. I like having one hand free so I can goof off on my cell and distract myself from that grating robotic sound and there is no way that I am cutting holes into an old bra in order to create some sort of "hands-free" band. Instead, I empty one side and move onto the next. In the process, I usually "forget" to snap my nursing bra back together and wait until I've closed shop to do so.

So here is my fear: one day I'll forget all together and I'll open the door. Everyone that works accross from the closet will see me standing there, naked breasts exposed. My director will walk by and see. My coworkers will be chatting near-by and, as soon as everyone else screams, they'll turn around and see. It will be the most embarassing day of my life and I'll have to wear a paper bag over my head for the rest of eternity to hide my shame.

I shake with fear just thinking about it.

For this reason, dear diary, I down caffeine like water. My sanity and my reputation depend on it.

And my husband thinks I drink coffee because I like the taste...he just wouldn't understand...

Until Next Time,

Meghan N.

Entry # 3 - My New Purpose

Dear Diary,

I feel happy today. Maybe it's the coffee talking, but, more likely, it is my renewed sense of purpose.

First, let me begin by stating that, for a while now, I have been asking God for some direction. It is so exhausting and unfulfilling to feel like a puzzle piece trying to fit into the wrong spot and I've been desperately seeking an answer to this dilema. Overall, I want to be true to God's calling and true to myself and, to be frank, office work just isn't doing it for me.

A funny thing happened today - I was taking a business call and assisting a teacher. While she was waiting for me to finish something, she was chatting with a couple of her coworkers. At one point they started joking and she exclaimed, "no, I could never be secretary - I'm a teacher and I can't multitask well enough for office work."

Bing! A light bulb came on over my head.

That's me!

I was trained to be a teacher. I spent four years of my life and thousands of dollars to be a teacher. And what have I done for the past 6 years? Avoided being a teacher. Part of that was circumstantial (as in, I don't have a Master's degree and, thus, cannot teach public school and I don't live in a place where I can teach at a private, Christian school), but part of that was complete denial that teaching was something I actually wanted to do or would enjoy.

Why I denied that is silly - I was afraid. I still am. I am afraid of teaching because it means I have to be responsible for something bigger than filing and it means I have to step outside of my comfortable little cubicle.

And, dangit, I have dedicated 6+ years of my life to this gray, drab cubicle (or similiarly drab cubicles).

So back to that conversation I overheard and why I said it was "me." It's me, because I completely identified with the statement and with the feel of her conversation.

Some people are great multi-taskers (say hello to my cubbie-mate). They're organized in a professional, I-love-my-filing-cabinet sort of way. They've got the secretary voice down to an art and they show up early at the office as if it's the most exciting place in the world. I'm glad these types exist - someone has to do it and it's wonderful that certain people thrive in office settings.

But I'm not one of those types. I've never been, although one might get the impression I am.

No, I'm the type who gets excited and fluttery when I hear teachers mention their classroom chaos or their beginning of the year prep. I'm the type who, despite moments of shyness, actually loves the idea of leading a training session because it means I get to teach something. I love being creative and all-over the map. I love interacting and seeing people light up when they finally understand something I taught them.

And, deep down, I long to help young people not only understand things academically, but also understand how unique, special, and loved by God they are.

So that's my new purpose in life: to teach.

I don't know all the "hows" or "whens," but I'm going to keep pressing toward what I know I am designed to be. I believe that, if I do, God will give me the grace and the opportunity to embrace His call.

And that, dear Diary, is really exciting.

Until Next Time,

Meghan N.

Entry #2 - My Insanity

Dear Diary,

Can I pretend to be somewhere else, just for five minutes? Maybe on a beach in Hawaii or a motorbike in Costa Rica. Anywhere but here.

You see, today was supposed to be a Tuesday, but, instead, it turned out to be a second Monday complete with the "anything that could go wrong does" feel of that inglorious first day of the week. Work was insanely busy, my oldest is incredibly fussy (aka screaming-like-a-banshee-until-you-all-turn-to-stone angry), and the new tire on my van went flat again, not more than 10 minutes after leaving the tire shop. Not to mention the fact that we're broke and worn thin in so many areas.

I need a break.

Thank God for His grace and mercy that sees me through even the toughest times and thank God for giving me a best friend and partner in crime. On days like today, God and my husband are my only sanity. I really don't know where I would be without them.


Until Next Time,

Meghan N.

Entry #1 - Thoughts on Parenting

Dear Diary,

I arrived at work early this morning and had a couple of minutes to myself, something I haven't had much of lately. Naturally, I took that time to grab a coffee and a take a few minutes to ponder life and children. I know, it seems strange that I took those quiet minutes to think about kids, but it hinged on a conversation (or soap box, really) regarding parenting that my husband and I had on our way into town.

As I walked, I started contemplating how parenting is not the easiest thing I have ever done and how I can't imagine why/how anyone could ever say that it is simple (this has been said, trust me).

Are there easy things about it? Of course! I actually thought of quite a few "easy" things.

It's easy to hold my babies when they need comfort; it's easy to cherish their laughter and smiles. It's easy to revel in my toddler's imagination and play and to enjoy my infant's growth and milestones. It's easy to love them no matter what, to look into their eyes and melt, to want the best for them and try my hardest to given them the world.

The very core of what it means to be a mommy (or a daddy) is not complicated - the instinct to want to provide and nourish is, for most people, natural. It's the other parts of parenting that are difficult.

I'm not the best disciplinarian, so it stretches me when I have to correct my oldest daughter. And, admit it, no one likes getting upset with their children, but, as parents, we have to at times. I hate the quivering lower lip and the watery puppy eyes that appear when she's being scolded. It's not fun feeling like the bad guy, when, in reality, I'm doing what I have to do to ensure that she's safe or well-behaved. I want her to be free to explore and be herself, but I also want her to understand that there are things she cannot do (e.g. hit others, throw toys, run into the street, throw fits when she doesn't get her way, etc.).

Infancy is not a walk in the park either. Waking up in the wee hours to feed a screaming baby is not my idea of a good time, especially not after 5 months of interrupted sleep. Dealing with teething and fussiness on top of lack of sleep is exhausting. Throw into the mix the fact that both kids have needs to be met (usually at the same time, because children never take turns), the house needs to be cleaned and dinner needs to be cooked and you've got yourself a bona fide frazzled mommy. Not easy to deal with at all (poor husband).

Then there is the working mom aspect. I feel guilty as if I'm letting my children down, but I know that my income is necessary and that we need the health insurance. I daydream of a utopia where I can work part-time (I do enjoy working to some degree!) and still have several uninterrupted hours with my girls. The parks we would visit - the walks we would take - the amazing, fun things we would do! But, no, in the real world, I am at a desk from 7:30-4, not including the half hour commute back and forth. And then I have to come home and somehow manage to keep my kids happy and on a schedule. Blah. One day...

Now, diary, I am not complaining at all. My little girls are worth everything! All the hard work involved in raising them right, all the hours spent at my job, all the time involved in caring for them - I do it all because I love them with all of my being. There is nothing I wouldn't sacrifice for them (sleep included). And all the harder moments of parenting are countered by the millions of sweet moments I get for being the mommy (such as the spontaneous kiss and "I love you more" from my toddler or the sudden bout of hysterical laughter from my five month old). I wouldn't trade a second with my daughters for a thousand hours to myself.

So, no, parenting is not easy, but it is worth it. Hopefully we'll see the fruit of our labor 18 years down the road when we've put in the time and watched our children are grown into beautiful, thoughtful, well-rounded young adults.

That, as a parent, is my sincerest wish.

Until Next Time,

Meghan N.

Me - The Unnatural Mother

Every once in a while I wonder if I am really cut out for motherhood. I know that I do the best that I can, but I sometimes wonder if it is not enough. I see these mothers that seem to have it all together - mothers with perfect budgets; those who have clean homes and freshly cooked meals; those who manage to squeeze in one activity after another and still wear a beautiful smile at the end of the day; those that seamlessly manage to parent a rambunctious toddler while pregnant with number two.

Maybe those women put on a facade of perfection, but I don't think so. Some women really are superhuman and can do just about anything where their children are concerned.

Since becoming a mother, I've had moments where I felt certain things came naturally. For instance, nurturing a child is, perhaps, the most natural thing a woman could do (in my opinion). While breastfeeding was a challenge at the start, I cherished those quiet minutes I shared with Esther and it felt so right to hold her close and nourish her in the way I knew how.

It also comes natural for women to want the best for their children, to do everything in their power to ensure their safety and well being. My head is constantly spinning with thoughts of all the "what-ifs" that plague mothers and I am constantly mulling over ways I can protect Esther from it all.

Still, I am beginning to think that "natural" parenting is a gift more than an inherited trait.

On nights like tonight, where Esther is fussy and hard to please, I get to wishing I had the natural parent gift, or at least some magic word to use that would bring peace to my house. I wish I could be like a couple friends of mine who make motherhood look so easy that they would put June Cleaver to shame.

Instead, I feel like an ever-expanding whale who falls apart every time her daughter cries or falls down. Yes, that is me - the pregnant bride of Frankenstein who works double-time to be the best mommy I can be.

The bottom line is that I love my daughter, but I get frustrated and stressed at the end of a busy day.

I spend my entire morning and afternoon imagining the picture perfect evening: I pick up my daughter who is so happy to see me that she literally skips to the car and happily climbs into her car seat (which, coincidentally, she's miraculously able to buckle on her own, no fussing or tears). We head home on a very peaceful drive, where she's singing and chatting in the backseat and I'm humming happy-go-lucky hippy songs in the front. Once at home, I lovingly pull out the dinner that I made the night before, pop it in the oven to warm, and enjoy playtime with her father and her. After our meal, that everyone happened to enjoy, we fall into our perfectly scheduled routine that leads us to an easy, glorious bed time. We read her a book, give her a bottle, brush her teeth, and kiss her goodnight. And, viola!, she's fast a sleep until morning.

What a dream!

One that is so easily shattered by reality.

This is how it really goes:

I pick up my daughter, who is very happy to see me, but not so happy to leave her Nana's house. I walk her outside, something she enjoys doing, and then fight to get her into her seat. She cries the entire drive home. Dinner was barely a thought in my head that morning, but is suddenly something that desperately needs to be made and eaten before ten that evening. I come in the door and want nothing more than to crash on the couch for five minutes, but the dogs are going crazy, my daughter is teetering between content and unhappy, and my husband has to shower. So I try my best to figure out how to balance it all and cook dinner, but I end up waiting the half hour it takes my husband to finish so that he can either watch the baby or help me cook. We struggle throughout the rest of the evening, wondering why Esther has suddenly decided that solid food is disgusting and how she can be the happiest child anyone has seen until it comes time for bed.

Due to the insanity of bedtime mixed with the insanity that comes with being an unnatural mother, I have come to rely heavily on my husband to assist with putting her to bed each night. Having weaned due to pregnancy, I've instead taken to making her nighttime bottle and feeding her in the rocking chair. My husband then takes over and spends the next hour wrestling the world's strongest baby into her crib. And then the screaming commences. Fortunately, at that point, she tires easily and all it takes is a few reassuring pats from my husband to calm her.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting in our room with my head between my knees crying over the great expectations that had been violently thrown out the window.

When it's all said and done and she's finally asleep, I relax, exhausted husband by my side, a warm cup of hot cocoa in my hands, and a brainless TV show playing quietly in front of me.

And I smile, because I realize, when the house is silent, how much I love my daughter and all the chaos she brings. I realize that there is not a single thing I would change - be it our insane schedule of events or the passion my daughter shows in everything she does.

When I lay my head down in the evening and fade into sleep, the dream begins again and I hope that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be different. I'll wake up and find myself perfectly fitting into the mold of mommy.

But, then again, perfection always was overrated.

Lessons Learned...

I am learning that I am still fairly naive when it comes to a lot of things, espcially parenting and pregnancy.

Here is what I thought:

1. my second pregnancy would be easier than my first
2. having a child already would make pregnancy go quicker and ease any symptoms I might have
3. by 1 year of age, my daughter would morph into this sleeping angel that loves having her own bed each night
4. that the terrible twos actually hit at two years, not 11 months
5. that my daughter would not grow up before my eyes
6. walking would not start until at least a year and, when it did, she wouldn't be the holy terror everyone warned me about

And here is what I have learned:

1. second pregnancies are not easier - in fact, I'm finding that I had forgotten what the first half felt like and I'm freaking out about every little thing once more (hello, self, you've been here before!). I'm also finding that my uterus, while bigger than it was, still stretches and that my morning sickness is not fading as quickly as I would have liked.
2. having a baby to chase around does not make this pregnancy go any faster and does not help me ignore the common discomforts. If anything, it makes it all the more amplified because, not only am I aching with normal things, I'm aching from all the running, bending, and lifting I have to do now.
3. my daughter has no plans of morphing into a sleeping angel. She would much rather scream all night and fight sleep, successfully ruining any chances for a decent night of rest for her parents. But, I have to say, that I still love her beyond all words.
4. the terrible twos are just an estimate. It can hit whenever your kid chooses. In our case, she decided to start early, so I'm hoping she gets past it a little early. Of course, knowing our daughter, that's not likely to happen!
5. Reality check: my daughter turns 1 in less than a month. This was made even more real when her birthday supplies arrived in the mail this week. I can't believe my little girl is growing up so fast! And it seems like yesterday that I was holding her for the first time...
6. walking starts whenever a baby decides it is time and, almost instantly, they become holy terrors - and walking head injuries! My God, my girl hits her head more than I would like!

And, thus, I am daily being schooled by life, pregnancy, and my child and I couldn't be more grateful! Because, while I have to learn the hard way, I wouldn't change a thing!

The time is now...

I looked outside today and saw the changing colors and the sweet smelling autumn rain and wondered how another year of my life has managed to slip by me. Here I am, a week shy of 27, and I still feel so unaccomplished in my existence.

I want more. I want to write full time while working from home so I can be with my children. I want to travel and do mission work. I want to be the type of superwoman who can conquer anything.

But right now I am still me and I am not so sure that the average "me" is really who I want to be anymore.

Through all the changes that have taken place over the past year, the addition of our beautiful daughter and the conception of our second child, my husband and I concluded that it is time to truly live what we believe.

We want to raise our children in an environment of "doing" rather than one of just "dreaming."

So now is the time.

Now we are finally coming to a place where we are examining who we are and what we can do to live differently. We are looking at our age and saying, "we can't wait another 20 years to do what we have always dreamed of doing and to do the things God has called us to do. We just have to do it. We just have to have the faith." So now we spread our arms, close our eyes, and jump.

It will scary. It will mean sailing on uncharted waters. And it will result in the biggest adventure of our lives.

And I can't wait.