Who Needs Balance?

Ahh, balance.  I’ve come back to this confounding word, often, as though if I think about it long and hard enough, somehow my life will follow.  I knew becoming a mother would throw my familiar, comfortable, stable life out the window.  And it did.  I knew carving out free time would become a challenge, that I would have to sacrifice certain parts of my life so I would have adequate time to be the kind of mom I knew I wanted to be.

Of course you have high hopes of doing it all after you have kids.  I remember my resistance when people would say to me:  “Oh, you won’t have time for _________ after you have kids” (and then they would let loose a cruel laugh).   Jeez, thanks.

Part of my struggle is my incessant need to create.  This isn’t complicated.  I need to put my ass in the chair and write.  Sure, there are other creative things I like to do, but none of them keeps me up at night the way writing does. 

This sounds simple enough.  If I want to write, then write.  And some days, I do.

Most days I don’t.  And I don’t exercise enough (this is something I like doing).  I don’t give myself a mental break.  I don’t get to spend enough time with Vinny, doing any of the things we love to do.  I don’t.  I don’t.  I don’t.

As a result I find myself hating time because there isn’t enough of it in a day to do all the things not only that I need to do, but that I would really love to do as well.

Then that damn word balance crops up.  Balance.  How do parents balance it all?  Parenting, relationship with partner, household duties, work, friends, hobbies, self-care (I’m sure I’m forgetting other critical things, but you get idea).  Is there a way to do it all? 

I have moments when I tell myself I am being selfish for needing time to write, time to have my creative outlets, time to sit in a quiet room for ten minutes and do nothing.  I can do those things later, right?  I look to the future when the kids will be in school all day and say, “Yes, that is when I will do things.”  I think about how quickly time is passing already and know that I need to have these moments with the kids now, because before I know it they will be in school all day and I won’t get to share so much time with them (this is heartbreaking to me on many levels).

But then I have to stop myself, because I know I am only doing myself a disservice in the long run to deny parts of my life from existence for several more years. 

So, what then?

This parenting thing… it’s a tough gig.  It’s by far the best gig I’ve ever had.  By far.  So there’s that.  But it’s also the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.  It amazes me how in the span of a day you can have so many highs and lows.  So many tiny joys and so many amazingly frustrating moments… sometimes in the span of a minute.

And then there’s me.  Where do I fit in in all of this?  Will the Stacy I have been survive all this and come out the other side?  I want to be the best parent I can be, but I also don’t want to lose myself in the process.

Balance.  It crops up again.  And again.  And again. 

I haven’t figured it out yet.  It’s like trying to keep ten balls in the air at the same time without one hitting the ground.  How long can you keep that up?

Here’s one thing I’ve started doing: I’ve lowered my expectations.  This sounds easy in theory, but in practice… this one is tough for me.  I expect a lot of myself.  And I’m hard on myself when I’m not, for lack of a better phrase, getting shit done.

Here’s another thing I’ve started doing: I’ve stopped comparing myself to others.  It’s so easy to do.  We all know a parent that makes it look so damn easy.  You know, their house is spotless, you would never know from looking at them that they’ve given birth (usually to at least three kids), they somehow manage to keep up with current affairs, books, the latest restaurant openings, and somehow find time to comb their hair.  Not only have I stopped comparing myself to others, I’ve stopped trying to figure out how those parents juggle all those hats and still manage to be lovely people to be around.  It’s exhausting. 

So in the midst of all this contemplation on balance and my struggle to carve out time to do the things I love, I have given the future of this blog some serious thought.  When things get hectic, it’s often the first thing to fall to the wayside.  This drives me crazy, but it’s not like I have to do this blog.  I’ve thought a lot about not doing it.

The thought of not continuing this little pocket ‘o internet makes me sad.  In fact, in mulling over whether or not to continue on, I’ve come up with some other, exciting-to-me things I would like to add to the site.  This blog is here for others.  Sure, it’s a way for me to put words down, to feel my way through this whole parenting fiasco, to share my frustrations and high-five moments. 

But when I hear from my readers?  Those are the days that stay with me.  For me, it’s all about the connection.  My goal is always to make someone else feel less alone in their journey.  To know they have company through it all.

So, stay tuned readers.  I’m currently scheming up ways to turn this corner of the world into more of a community, because if anything, I would love to hear more from YOU.  To invite more participation, to help each other out not only in our parenting lives, but in our creative lives as well.  To offer more in the way of advice, services, links, etc. 

What would you like to see more of?  Feel free to share your ideas; I’d love to hear them.

Balance?  Who needs it.

The "V" Word

And no, I’m not talking vagina.  Vasectomy.  If you’re a guy, you’re probably wincing in imagined pain right now, and I feel you.  If you’re a woman that’s been through childbirth you’re probably thinking something along the lines of, “Hell yes.  Let him have a taste of the pain…” 

But I digress.

Vinny opted for this procedure since we are done having kids.  At least, we say we’re done having kids.  Vinny has always said we’ll have two and that’s it.  I’ve always said we’d take it on a case-by-case basis.  I never had a specific number of children in mind.  What if I had a baby and then decided I didn’t love being a mom as much as I thought I would, or if the baby was particularly demanding, or we didn’t have the money, or…  It never seemed right to put any kind of parameters on the potential size of our family.

Vinny’s stance has never changed.  As for me… it’s not as simple.

Almost immediately after Sophie’s birth I said, “I’m done.”  My children seem to have a harrowing (to me) way of arriving into this world, and there is a part of me that does not want to press my luck.  We’ve all come through unscathed so far and I am thankful each and every day that Eli, Sophie and myself came through those experiences in good health.

So there’s that.

Then there’s the part of me that longs to be younger and richer so we could have more kids.  At this point we’re comfortable with two so it seems a bit impractical to push things that way. 

And then there’s the matter of actually caring for these children.  They’re exhausting.  I already feel guilt on some days because I rarely get to spend any one-on-one time with each child and feel as though my attention is usually in ten different places.  I’ve had several people say to me, “After two kids it doesn’t matter, it’s all really the same,” but I can’t get behind that statement. 

When I think of my attention being divided further by another child I wonder how I would actually do it.  Check that.  I know I could do it, but whether or not I would do it happily is another question.

So there are all these reasons not to have another child.  And they are good, solid reasons.  To be honest, there is no further justification needed beyond Vinny not wanting more children because, really, we both need to be on board for a decision of that magnitude.

And yet…

When I think about not having that moment of learning I am pregnant again, I get sad.

When I think about not feeling a little babe kick/move/punch/roll around in my belly again, I get sad.

When I look at my maternity clothes and remember being pregnant with Eli and Sophie, I get sad (and nostalgic).

When I think about how awesome our kids are, how good we are at making kick-ass babies, and then realize we aren’t going to do it again, I get really, really sad.

For some crazy reason I like being pregnant and having babies.  Nevermind the insomnia, morning sickness, insane heartburn, carpal tunnel, massive weight gain, general aches and pains, etc.  I love it.  And I have to add that I do have easy pregnancies, despite those ailments.  Really.  I am lucky.

In spite of all these things I know the best decision for us is to not have more babies. 

It doesn’t mean I still can’t be sad about it.

I never anticipated being the one leaving the urologist’s office in tears (and for those of you that know Vinny, you will appreciate that statement to the fullest ... and for the record he did fine).  But there you go.  As we drove home from Vinny’s procedure last week I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down my face.  It was a bittersweet moment for both of us.  Then Vinny managed to lighten it with a joke: “I’m not sure if I just did that because I don’t want more kids, or because of the ones we already have.” 

It didn’t stop my tears, but it did put a smile on my face.

Neither Here Nor There

I’ve realized that the older I get the more set in my ways I become.  I’d like to think there was a time when I rolled with whatever life threw at me, that I took life’s unexpected trials and tribulations with cool aplomb. 

Now?

Life changes tend to throw me into a twist.  This is not to be taken as: any change gets my blood pressure up.  No, I like change, I like variety.  I consider myself a life-long student of, well, everything.  My interests are many and if anything I struggle with being decisive. 

What I’m talking about are all the major life changes and transitions that have been occurring, and that continue to occur, with some regularity.

Just when I think things are settling down, falling into a rhythmic pattern … WHAM. 

I am a homebody at heart.  I love to get out, explore, socialize, experience, but I equally love being home, nurturing my space and psyche.

Having children throws any kind of “normalcy” out the window when it comes to a predictable life (this is a plus), so I suspect part of my craving for stability comes from the ups and downs of raising kids.

In addition, the toll that living in L.A. for nearly ten years took on me cannot be underestimated.  And now, I find myself pulled back to this place yet again.

L.A., for me, is like living in limbo.  In all my time here I never felt a connection to place, never felt a sense of home.  Were it not for our family of friends here, I may have very well gone off the deep end.  This place is sensory overload and it takes mere minutes “out there” for my blood pressure to tick steadily up.

Moving back to Grand Rapids was a shock on many levels.  I’d acclimated to L.A. life, and not in ways I want to model for my children.  People here rarely acknowledge one another; everyone is in a my-ass-is-on-fire hurry nearly all the time.  After awhile I found myself acquiescing, accepting this as normal.  

We lived in an apartment complex for seven years and knew the names of three of our neighbors.  Most wouldn’t make eye contact, let alone return a simple “hello.”  It took me two years to figure out that a classmate I took a photography course with back in Michigan lived in our complex.  When I approached her to (re)introduce myself, she was initially standoffish and rude.  Only after I quickly launched into my explanation (“you were in my Photo 1 course with Pete Taylor, remember?”) did she let her guard down a touch, and two minutes later was offering to make lunch plans with me (she moved out of the complex shortly after; we never did have lunch). 

It’s taken me awhile to shake off this mentality, to believe that people around me can be (and are) genuine on a daily basis. 

I mean no disrespect to the wonderful people who live in L.A., to the handful of people we came to know and love during our time here (in addition to all of our friends from film school that trickled out to “live the dream”).  For me, it’s more about the cumulative energy that exists in L.A.  I feel it, and it wears on me.  It seems everyone wears a protective barrier at all times, and finding a way through that is exhausting … not to mention frustrating.

So when Vinny got the call to work out here for several months, it was with a cautious heart that I agreed to come.  It’s what we need to do for our family right now, so really, there is no question, but it was extremely difficult to leave “home,” because for the first time in a long time, a place actually feels like home to me.

Most people don’t get this.  And it’s something I’ve tried to explain numerous times, usually to no avail.  Any of my writer friends know that the concept of home continually crops up in my work; it’s one of my obsessions (this originally stems from all the moving I did as a child).

Now that I have children, I want them to have a strong sense of home.  There were so many things we were looking forward to this fall/winter: celebrating Eli’s 2^nd birthday (today!) with friends and family, hosting Thanksgiving, experiencing our first Christmas together as a family in our new home, and experiencing Michigan’s Fall and Winter among them. 

We will surely make memories out here in L.A., and I am thankful that we have such a solid foundation of friends here; they truly are part of our extended family.  But I can’t deny that this particular transition has been difficult, and that on some days I am not being my best self.  Between the travel, Eli being sick, stubborn adjustments to the time change, and just a general sense of “where the hell are we,” the kids have also been struggling.

The other day, after taking Eli to the pediatrician and getting drops for his ears, I set upon the task of administering said drops.  I was wary, unsure of how he would respond.  In true Eli fashion he took it in stride, even seemed to enjoy getting “bubbles” in his ears.  He now asks for them, points to his ears several times a day wondering if it’s time for his bubbles.

He once again reminds me to slow down, take a breath, and take it all in stride.  He reminds me that just because we’re here it doesn’t mean our life is on hold until we get back home.  We already call the apartment here home because it’s where we all are.  Together.  Even though my mind tries to make it more complicated than that, it really is that simple.   

Sad to Know Happy

I was talking to a good friend the other day and she mentioned she was thinking about having a baby.  She had questions, and I assumed they were going to be of the “what is it like to be pregnant, give birth, etc.” variety.  But no.

She wondered how my relationship with Vinny changed once we had a baby.  If we were ever able to carve out time just for us.  And I have to say, these are excellent questions, questions that perhaps people do not ponder enough before having children.

I don’t think anyone is naïve enough to think their relationship with their partner won’t change once they have a child.  But I do think, in all the excitement that comes with potential parenthood, that this topic is often forgotten about altogether.

This is something I thought about often before getting pregnant.  I treasured my pre-baby time with Vinny, the freedom we had to do what we wanted, when we wanted … or even better, to do nothing at all.  Lazy days were our favorite, as were spur-of-the-moment camping trips we took on occasion.  These things are not so easily accomplished (if at all) with a little babe (or two) in the house. 

I found out I was pregnant with Eli at my acupuncturist’s office.  I was late, she knew we weren’t being careful, and she was as giddy as I was, insisting I do a pee test in her office.  The line on the strip test I took was indiscernible to my eye, I wasn’t convinced it was positive at all, but she jumped up and down, “You’re pregnant!  Girl, you’re pregnant!” 

Then you go into shock.  On the drive home I was overwhelmed by 100 different emotions.  The one that took me by surprise was the sadness that flooded in.  Even on that first day, in all the shock and happiness and awe, I already felt sadness for my relationship with Vinny.  I knew at that moment that our lives would never be the same, and that I was going to have to let go of the way our relationship was to move into what it was about to become.

I’ve rarely shared this experience.  The few times I have I’ve been met with either a brush-off, “of course your lives are going to change, duh,” kind of response, or, even worse, a look of concern (not for me, mind you, but because I was experiencing an emotion that wasn’t pure happiness).

I’ve never regretted our decision to have children, but I also think it would be foolish to ignore the feelings I had, to not allow myself to grieve the relationship (as it was) ending to become something different. 

The relationship has become something different, something better.  Seeing my partner as a father has only reinforced all the reasons I love him in the first place.  And seeing him love our children so wholly and purely has made me fall in love with him more deeply, something I didn’t necessarily think was possible before we embarked on this adventure (and a true, unexpected bonus).

There are still moments when I feel sadness for what once was.  But we do find time together, however fleeting.  And we both look forward to taking the kids on new adventures with us, soon. 

When someone asks me a question like this, I don’t hold back.  I have no qualms about being honest.  Choosing to become a parent is one of the biggest decisions you can ever make.  Once it happens, there’s no going back. 

Did I chastise myself a little that day in the car, moments after learning I was pregnant and feeling sadness?  Yes, I did.  I had that “what is wrong with me,” moment, wondered why my brain had to go there in the midst of something so thrilling, but then let it wander there all the same.  I was pregnant, dammit.  My emotions and hormones were already making me a blubbering mess, and I have learned so many times over that when I feel something I need to let myself feel it.  Quashing my instinctual responses only serves to make me less pleasant down the road. 

When I became pregnant with Sophie, there was again shock, thrill, happiness … and sadness.  This time, it wasn’t for what I was losing with Vinny, but with Eli.  I knew the time to give him my undivided attention was drawing to an end, and he is an incredibly fun child to hang out with.  He still is, but the dynamic has certainly shifted since Sophie was born, as is to be expected.

I’ve come to learn that when my mind knows it can’t “go back” to how things were before, especially when I am happy with the way things are, there is always a bump in the road.  It’s generally a large bump, and it just takes me awhile to figure out how to get over it.  What’s on the other side is worth the journey, but I’ve realized it’s okay to take my time getting there.