A sister joins the sisterhood of motherhood

My sister recently announced that she is expecting her first child! 

My sister is my best friend in the world. I can tell her anything, even dark, dirty little secrets I don't even want to say out loud to myself (and oh boy, have I!). I can brag to her about my kick a$$ day without worrying that she'll feel like I'm, well, bragging. She speaks my language, knows where I come from, and accepts everything about me. Clearly, I'm fond of the girl!

And to think of her on the journey of becoming a Mom just makes me so darned happy! (Because it is what she and her husband want and planned for. Not because I'm one of those pain in the a$$ people who thinks everyone should have a child...to each their own people!)

I've shared what little tidbits I can remember, pulled out all my books to give recommendations. (My favorite was The Pregnancy Bible. I LOVED it. I know everyone says you should get What to Expect When You're Expecting: Fourth Edition but I didn't find any pictures in there and I found the book kind of "blah" the few minutes I flipped through it in the book store.

But The Pregnancy Bible: Your Complete Guide to Pregnancy and Early Parenthood had pictures of the developing fetus for each week (real pictures, not artists renderings), as well as a week-by-week this-is-what's-happening-to-your-body explanation for Mom. (I'll admit, I cheated a lot and read into the future to see what was coming) As in all pregnancy books there are those pages/paragraphs that scare the be-jesus out of you, but One Philly Daddy and I made it a habit to sit in bed with that book and read about what One Philly Son was doing that week, or how far he'd come, or what he'd be doing when....  It was awesome and one of my fondest memories of being pregnant with our first child.


Of course, as in many, if not most, journeys in life, the during can be pretty hectic. After our anatomical ultrasound and One Philly Son was declared healthy, I still couldn't stop worrying something was wrong. I fretted about setting up the nursery. I fretted about affording everything. I fretted about getting everything done. I fretted about what I didn't know to fret about.

And...we got everything done. Everything turned out just fine. Mere months after the birth of One Philly Son we settled into a routine. All those things I fretted about magically transformed from unknown, scary, unimaginable things (just how early do I have to wake up to get us to work, the baby fed and to day care, the dogs and cat fed...how is that going to work? I could not imagine.) into normal, blessed, part-of-our-routine things.

Too often I don't give me/life/my husband the credit it deserves for the incredible track record of things working out.  They usually do, and yet it always seems to be a surprise to me.

So I know my wonderful, darling sister must have a head full of "what if" and "how" and "when" and "holy cr@p, now what??" But I also know, she'll find her answers, and in no time at all, she won't believe she was ever unsure of what to do.

I’ve hesitated to write about this for some time. The situation is still going on, and the outcome remains completely unknown. But it is taking up a lot of room in my mind, so perhaps this will free up some room for other things.

I’m in an unfulfilling position at a non-profit going through a merger where no one’s position is guaranteed.

Since I returned to work from my FMLA Maternity leave, things have been up in the air with merger “talks”, then decisions, negotiations, and finally restructuring. We’re in the restructuring process, and, as often happens in these situations (this is not my first merger/buy out experience) things take longer than expected and planned.

So what we’d hoped to be wrapping up soon will probably be going on into the new year for at least a few weeks.

Prior to my maternity leave, things were different. I worked long, hard, crazy, busy hours. If I took a lunch, I came back to multiple voicemails and emails. I accomplished incredible quantities of work. My philosophy and response was “I can do that” no matter how crazy the request, how short the deadline, how big the project. (And most of the time, I did do “it”.) If I didn’t know how to do it, I found out. If no one else wanted a project, I took it. If a position was vacant, I filled in until it was filled. Sure, I was frustrated sometimes, and overwhelmed by all the work at times.

But I also felt important, busy, valued, appreciated, necessary, awesome. I had a complete sense of having it all. I could have a family, a challenging job, contribute financially to my family and feel great doing it. I was PUMPED at the prospect of it all.

Now, unfortunately, I feel listless, unsure, confused, unnoticed. My tasks have dwindled (hopefully to increase if/when the merger is finished), and I hate to say it, but I’m not sure anyone really notices I’m here. I can go days, if not weeks without a work related voice mail (I don’t count telemarketers).

It is disheartening and disconcerting to feel so invisible after feeling so indispensible.

I yearn for a purpose, a sense of accomplishment.

Have you ever noticed the phenomenon that the busier you are, the more you can get done? I epitomized that phenomenon at work for awhile, and now I am bogged down in the flip side. No focus, no drive, no motivation. It takes me an hour to write a fax now. I used to do that in the midst of returning a phone call AND an email.

I feel like my brain is turning to mush, and I miss the fire and rush of feeling necessary and important.

So, I'm going to try to get that rush somewhere else, brainstorm a personal project that might give me that sense of fulfillment I am missing.

This situation at work will pass, and whatever the outcome, everything will work out. But I bet finding an independent source of fulfilment, a passion of my own is a worthwhile pursuit.

What's your passion? Is it really yours or is it dependent on someone or something else?

What's your gift philosophy?

Even though One Philly Son has already had one Christmas, and is quickly approaching his second, I am still contemplating my Christmas gift philosophy.

The ginormous pile of everything he asked for? or a few specific and hopefully meaningful gifts?

Last Christmas One Philly Daddy and I agreed to purchase only a few gifts for One Philly Son. #1 He was 4 months old and wouldn't remember #2 He didn't need a stinkin' thing. #3 He wasn't aware enough to want anything and #4 We knew he'd get plenty of gifts from other, very generous friends and family.

Last year, we bought him a cloth storybook, and a singing Elephant, and I'm happy to say, he still plays with both and still carries them around the house nearly a year later. Which is what we want a gift to be, right? Something that brings joy and stands the test of time to provide continued joy.

This year we are following much of the same philosophy. So far,we are gifting 1) 3 personalized books that will include his name, because I hope he'll enjoy them for years to come, plus they are Sesame Street ABC and 123 books, so there is also an educational component.

2) a Stride to Ride Dino Walker (currently $44.99 at Toys R US, but free shipping if you spend $49) because I know  he will love, love, love it right now. (and we have the room and floors so he can ride it in the house during the winter)

and 3) a Disney music CD (cheaper new at Toys R Us) because he is fascinated with the CD player, "dances" in his car seat to music playing in the car and loves Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

I hope they are all things that One Philly Son will enjoy and use often.

We might pick up a few more small things, and maybe I'll get some cute little things that he can dump out of his stocking on Christmas morning. But that's probably about it.

He still won't remember this Christmas, so I don't feel the need to "wow" him just yet. If one day, he's just set on something spectacular, and One Philly Daddy and I can swing it, I'd love to gift him that amazing gift that he talks about years later as "the" Christmas. Every parent wants to provide that, don't they?

But I don't think (who knows?, life evolves) I'll strive to provide a pile that can be literally be jumped into, like some of my childhood classmates got...

I guess I don't want to create the unhealthy expectation for One Philly Son that he will get everything he wants all the time. I believe this leads to the child not understanding the value of what they have and a sense of entitlement.

But at the same time, I understand the philosophy that childhood only happens once, and when is a better time to teach a child to wish, to dream, and to expect those wishes and dreams to come true?

So what's your gift philosophy? Do you let your child(ren) make unlimited lists and provide everything on it? Or limit their requests to a few items and only provide a small pile? Let me know your thoughts...

Thanksgiving

I am grateful that most of my stresses and worries come from the problem of abundance. (If you are having a hard time seeing the abundance in your life, check this out. A good exercise in perspective.)

Too many choices - work or stay home with kids?, have kids or not? how many?, buy a house?, how big?, where? Public school or private?

Money for necessities and most of my reasonable wants - unlike a lot of people. Whether or not there was going to be food on my table this Thanksgiving was not a question. Neither was the heat.

My family and I are healthy enough that I can take it for granted sometimes, and not eat well or work out.

Free enough to criticize anyone, believe anything, decide what I want to be. 

I have the luxury of a partner to help, when many do not.

My safety is not a concern, nor the safety of my family.

These are just the biggies, not to mention the apple pie I'll eat on Thursday, the beautiful weather headed our way this week, the new couches I'll be sitting on, etc, etc, etc....

Happy Thanksgiving...

It's about time...

One Philly Daddy and I did something yesterday we've been putting off for a long time. We've talked about it on and off for years and sometimes had very different opinions about whether or not to do it at all. Recently I said I'd never do it. And here we are.

We bought new couches.

Why we didn't:
1) The couches we had worked for years. They were hand-me-downs, but we were young, and they worked. In the beginning, I even liked them.
2) New furniture is, to me, crazy expensive. I'd rather save the money or take a vacation (And we have. A lot.).
3) We have two dogs, a cat and a baby/toddler. It seemed anything new would just get ruined in a few days anyway.
4) I was hoping to find something almost-new (better for the environment, my wallet, the world, plus - less heart break if the dogs/cat/kid make a mess).

Why we finally did:
1) The couches are no longer "working". I was beginning to be embarrassed. The couches had stains, so a few years ago I had them cleaned professionally (cheaper than new couches). Then they got more stains, and the cushions started to tear, so I bought slip covers (on sale, much cheaper than new couches. Plus, I had the benefit of being able to wash away any messes). Now, when anyone sits on the couch, the cushions slide out so far you end up with half a cushion suspended in air over the front of the couch, and a big gap of no cushion behind your butt. I spend a lot of time shoving the cushions back in place and brainstorming ideas of how to get them to stay put.
2) I was getting tired of being a hard working adult who can afford to pay cash for new couches, but continues to have a couch that looks straight out of a college dorm room.
3) I wanted to. Badly.
4) We searched all the "almost new" options, repeatedly, and found nothing.

What I learned:
1) The overriding concern for stains was probably not necessary. We purchased a sofa, chair and a half and an ottoman. And the fabric protection plan for all of them. For an additional $150, American Signature Furniture will clean any stains or tears from pet or human spill, bodily fluid or accident. If they can't get it out or fix it, they will replace the piece for 7 years. We'll see how well the actual delivery of this service is, but as One Philly Daddy put it, "if anyone needs this service, its us".
2) I already knew this one, but its always nice to see it in action: One Philly Daddy and I are legitimately concerned with each other's happiness. We refused to buy something we both didn't love (in style, color and price), which meant 9 stores in one day and a lot of communication, but I think we both love what we ended up with. (Correct me if I'm wrong honey..quick, before we pick up the new furniture!)
3) If I could get away with it, I would probably save every penny I earned besides necessities. Apartment (small, and pseudo-crappy is OK, just needs to be safe), car (ditto), food (nothing name brand, please!), a few social outings, and basic cable. Student loan payments and the rest sits in an account, for "just in case." But life is meant to be lived. And if I'm going to (and One Philly Daddy) work hard to excel at work and earn a good living, I should probably allow myself to enjoy a few nice things, once in awhile. I'm honestly excited for these stupid couches!

So, we did it. We didn't get anything fancy or expensive (We did visit one store having a 50% off sale, and everything was still twice our budget. Ouch.), but we like it, and we're happy. Plus, it should be here before Thanksgiving (which I am hosting)....and I won't be fixing cushions OR worrying about stains....now that's something to be grateful for!

I recently re-read Eat Pray Love because I loved the book, but also because I am so taken with this woman's journey to discover herself. It took courage for her to examine her inner-workings with such honesty.

I've always been into self-awareness and self-help-y type exercises, experiences, books and writings. I once exclaimed, without an ounce of sarcasm, "I love therapy!" I started going as part of my parent's divorce proceedings, and honestly, I guess it stuck. I wasn't consumed with the desire to escape or avoid what was going on in the world or within myself, I was consumed with the desire to understand. I felt it I just understood, I could take a different path.
What I've learned over the years is that actually understanding what goes on in the human mind is complicated and tricky. And understanding what goes on in your own mind is even more complicated. (Something about objectivity?)

But what a fascinating journey! (Admittedly, some of this therapy was in fact necessary at certain times in my life. I thank (insert name of your favorite deity here) for all those who helped when I needed it most.)

The desire to understand how and why you are who and what you are fascinates me. Admittedly, there are more social hobbies a girl can have, but this one has served me well, and I have to say, I cherish the journey I've taken.

It may go without saying that a fair amount of the work that I did was to educate myself so that I would not repeat certain patterns, certain legacies that should've died generations ago. I was going to be the broken link in that chain if it killed me.

I don't think I realized until I had my son just how scared I was of screwing it up. (And I knew I was plenty scared, but I think this was down-to-my-bones scared without even realizing it..)

The innocence and purity of childhood is the most reverent, sacred thing to me. I believe a child's trust, faith, heart and soul are the most important and valuable things that anyone can be entrusted with. The Hope Diamond is a cheap trinket compared to this. And I know that that sounds like a pretty big deal, but it does not begin to express the importance that I put on it.

And yes, a fair number of shrinks (I use this phrase with all fondness and respect) have informed me that this belief may in fact be a teensy-weensy bit too much pressure on any human being.

But of all the things to not f*ck up, this one seemed the most important.

And I'm gloriously proud, relieved, somewhat embarrassed (there were, ahem, a few people who told me all along I could, I just didn't believe them) to admit...I can do this.

I'm a decent Mom. It is by far my favorite role to date, and I revel in it. No, I won't do everything perfect. Yep, I'll mess somethings up. Yep, some of my hangups will unfortunately be visited upon my children. But I bet some of my grace, wisdom and strength will too...

A Yoga teacher/friend/truly fascinating person I know recently conducted a Yoga retreat in Mexico called "Letting Go" (oh my god, that's like three of my favorite things - yoga, Mexico, AND self help?!?!?! I love it!) and it got me to thinking, its time to really start putting down all that baggage I've carried around for so long.

My biggest, deepest fears have been proven wrong and I can stop arming myself against them.

What can you let go and put down?

We're just human after all...

So we've just returned from vacation to fabulous Mexico. One Philly Son was fabulous on the planes and loved, loved, loved the beaches and pools. Honestly this resort was wonderful for kids.

The staff adored him, going out of their way to say hello/hola, to talk to him, give him things to play with. There were plenty of activities that he was too young to do, but this resort would be great for kids of any age.

On our return flight there was a man who I assume is ill. He traveled in a wheel chair and his wife (I assume again) was carrying what appeared to be oxygen for him. I noticed he was wearing a hat that read "Cancer Sucks Team Bob". My assumptions continue to conclude that this man is sick, suffering from some form of cancer and that he and his wife took a trip together to spend some time out of hospitals and chemotherapy rooms. We happened to ride the elevator to the baggage claim together (a young boy in his stroller, a sick man in his wheelchair, enough to give anyone something to reflect on) and his wife's purse was open enough for me to see a pack of cigarettes.

I hope my mouth didn't gape open when I saw the cigarettes.

But it got me to thinking. My first reaction was how, even when we know the right thing to do, we don't always do it. Eating vegetables, working out, etc, etc, etc. I was a bit appalled at this woman. (Again, admittedly totally based on assumptions) Here is her husband bravely battling cancer and she's still SMOKING?!?!?! How dare she?!?!?!

But immediately after it got me to thinking about our humanity. Our flawed, imperfect, try as hard as we can and still not perfect, human selves. If my assumptions are correct, this couple could literally be fighting for their life together. I can not imagine the strain, fear, struggle or anything else they are going through. And, clearly, I have no idea of their story, situation, life or anything else. For all I know he sprained his ankle running on the beach and the oxygen was a fancy case of tequila.

Who the heck am I to judge based on what I think I saw?

The truth of the matter is, I don't know anything about that couple, other than that they smiled at my son in the elevator and rode on a plane back from Mexico with me.

So I'm embracing my imperfect humanity, embracing that I don't have all the answers (actually, I probably don't have any of them...) and patiently waiting for the answers to be revealed in their due time...

Relaxed, for so many reasons!

The One Philly Family is mere hours away from a fabulous vacation in Mexico. The dog sitter is set up, the bags are packed, the laundry is done, we're almost ready to set the alarm for really-freakin-early-o'clock and we are ready to go!

Beyond that though, we've reached a real level of relaxation, acceptance and comfort. For example, I have been traveling with One Philly Daddy long enough to know he doesn't stress about it. He throws some stuff in a bag and goes. Even after repeated trips taught the same lesson (sort of. He never packs enough socks or t-shirts, we can never remember which), he doesn't stress. I stress about packing. Especially with One Philly Son. How many diapers are enough? Which toys will keep him happy on the plane?

And I also know that One Philly Daddy's stress will begin when we wake up tomorrow and won't end until we've passed security at the airport and are at the gate eating breakfast.

The point being, we've been together long enough to really know each other well enough to anticipate, expect, accept and roll with the things that stress each of us out.

And that is truly relaxing.

I don't know....Daddy?

I have a confession to make. I've had a very (sub-conscious) narrow-minded view of Daddy's.

Yes, my own father was not an award winning father, but he was certainly not the only man in my life. So, for whatever reason, I assumed that Fatherhood (dun-dun-dun) was an experience fraught with a overwhelming sense of obligation, duty, responsibility, pressure, and financial worry. I suspected Father's (always with  a capital F, of course, this is serious business!) looked at their children and felt a sense of dread at the weight  of overwhelming responsibility. How yuck!

I (wrongfully) presumed that it was only the Mother's who were nurturing, and caring. I presumed only the Mommy's got that sense of pride just looking at their child sleep or watching him/her walk, read, play, laugh, eat. I thought only Mommy's experienced the joy of parenthood.

Was I ever wrong!

I'm not entirely sure where I got this uber flawed idea, because I had a variety of male influences, many who did not fit the mold of the stressed out, resentful Daddy.

Sure, my grandfather is a dyed in the wool, old-school Marine, who I can remember rarely showing affection to my grandmother, but I also grew up with a neighbor, who's mere existence I'm pretty sure saved my life.

This neighbor is an elderly Irish Catholic man who never married, but always loved children. When my home was chaotic, loud, scary, and unpredictable, his was quiet, safe, welcoming and sometimes provided the most basic necessities - shelter and food. He hung a "Happy Birthday" banner in his kitchen window so we could see it as we ate our breakfast for years, and took us to Friendly's for a Conehead Sundae on our special day. He helped us with school projects, work applications, college essays. He always believed in us by never doubting us.

Beyond Pop-pop and my neighbor, I've known father's of friends who were their confidantes and biggest fans, I've known strict Dad's and lenient Dad's, rich Dad's and poor Dad's, loving Dad's and distant Dad's, all kinds of Dad's. So I've observed all kinds, I just got it stuck in my head somehow that none of them really enjoyed being a Dad. I mean, I knew lots of Dad's who were good Dad's, it just never occurred to me that they liked being a Dad. How sad, right? (For me and them.)

Since I've become a Mom, I've noticed more and more that there are loads of Daddy's who dote on, adore, protect, provide for, and yes, feel joy and pride when just looking at their children. There are loads of men who excel at being Daddy's and enjoy it. (One Philly Daddy being one of them.)

I'm a little embarrassed that I had that assumption for so long without even realizing it, but I gotta say, I've never been so happy to be so wrong. And guys, you Daddy's out there doing a great job and loving it, sorry I so underestimated you. Keep up the great Daddy-ing!

Date night at the Sixers...

Tonight, One Philly Daddy and I are headed out for date night! Woohoo! We're headed to a Sixers game, which is cool. But not as cool as 5 or 6 hours of just the two of us. We could paint a kitchen, do laundry, rake the leaves, head to the city for a show and fancy dinner and we'd still have a great time. We've done lots of cool things, but some of our greatest times are really spent doing nothing, just time with each other.

I love that One Philly Daddy and I can always talk, even about difficult tasks, and we do our best to respect each other's opinion, even when we disagree. He truly is my best friend and I love to just be around him. He's got lots of the traits I wish I had, which makes him my perfect complement.

So I expect I'll have a great time, even though I probably won't know who the Sixers are playing, or even what the score is...

The accountant and the hippie...

Oh brother. Maybe I shouldn't have said out loud I'd made a decision (even without sharing or executing said decision).

I'm even MORE excited to get going today. I've got plans, BIG plans!

The smart, grown-up, fiscally responsible side of my brain is speaking very slowly, in a serious tone, and is wearing glasses and a tweed jacket.

It says to me "Wait, just a little while longer. This is the smart thing to do. Your dreams will be there."

The New Age, gut and heart following side of my brain is making a face like she just ate something really sour and is rolling her eyes a little bit.

"Seriously? Life is short, get out there and do it already!" She says.

Now the smart, grown up side of my brain turns to the gut-heart following side and says "But what if...." and then trails off in an ominous way, like we couldn't even imagine what may happen if we foolishly run off into the night, following our dreams without a thought in mind.

And, just to up the ante, the gut-heart following side says, very calmly and serenely, "yes, what if?" Implying, of course, that worse than any horrible thing the smart side imagined, is not doing what makes you happy.

Honestly, its kind of amusing. Because, the smart side and the heart-gut side (which sounds kinda gross right now!) have to live together. Like a lot of good marriages and friendships, there is a saver and a spender, a do-whatever-I-feel-like-er and someone seriously planning for the future.

Neither is right or wrong. Neither is good or bad. They both have strong, valid arguments, and they both have down-falls and disadvantages if followed too closely to the letter.

So here I sit, imagining an accountant and a hippie battling it out in my head and in my heart, sure that at the end they'll both say "See. I told you I was right."

Stuck on a hamster wheel, but only temporarily...

I've made a decision. I'm excited, nervous, and eager for the changes this decision will bring.

But I'm not ready to execute. Well, that's not true. I'm ready to execute. But its not time yet. Responsibility, logic and my head are all 100% on the side of waiting a little longer.

But I spent a long time being a list making, a "right" decision maker. I did the right thing, the smart thing, the thing that made sense on paper, added up to the smart thing. And then my life took a serious nose dive. Fiancee dumped me. Serious health problems for my brother. Serious legal and family problems for my sister. Trauma to my niece. Got fired. In like 18 months. No job, alone, scared for those I loved.

And I decided (realized, learned, whatever) with the help of some serious soul searching and hours of heart to hearts with good friends, that life is not lived on paper. The smart thing on paper is not what's really right, and the gut (however flawed and imprecise) is sometimes smarter than the brain.

So I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that my gut and heart are behind this decision. I'm not questioning that. But the brain is pulling in the reins a little bit. And that is creating some frustration. I feel like I'm denying myself my heart's desire. And I know the heart does not like to be denied.

The frustration (unfortunately for One Philly Daddy, who gets the brunt of it) leads to crankiness and eating a little too much Halloween candy. But its also very reassuring. There's no confusion or doubt here. I know what I want. And I'm going to get it. And that will be great.