Pretending

I'm pretending it's actually fall.

I just took a nice warm shower (partly for the soothing effect, partly because of the spit-up) with my favorite Bath and Body Works aromatherapy body wash. I've changed into my sweatpants (the ones that are hanging together by threads--the best kind) and a tank top. I've toasted some s'mores poptarts and made a cup of decaf coffee with hot chocolate mixed in. And I'm curling up on the couch wrapped in a blanket to watch some TV with my hubby.

Yes, I know it's 8:20pm and 70 degrees. But it's supposed to be fall, and I've had a rough day. And when I've had a rough day, I like to go to my happy place, which is me, all snuggled up and relaxed. And if I have to turn on all the fans and pretend I don't live in Orange County, then that's what I'll do.

To the happy place I go...

Can I do it?

So this is it. The dreaded (maybe?) day has come. Tomorrow I return to work.

There is so much I could say about this, probably all of it predictable. When I wake up in the morning, I'm supposed to wake up no longer as Shannon but as Superwoman. I'm supposed to do everything I've been doing for the last 10 1/2 weeks AND teach full time. I'm supposed to don one more hat. According to my calculations, this is a summary of the expectations: As supermom, I care for and nurture my son. As superhomemaker I do the laundry, cook healthy foods, and clean (all with organic, good for the environment products). As superwife I dote on, support, and serve my husband. As superteacher I impart knowledge in a fun, challenging way that engages all students and individualizes instruction for each learner. As supercoworker I chat with, serve, and support my fellow teachers and staff members. As superdaughter I love, serve, and support my parents. As superwoman I wear stylish clothes, do my makeup and hair every day, and weigh less than 130 pounds. As superfriend I love, support, and serve all of my friends. As supercitizen I stay current on national and world events, eat healthy, be friendly to all, and "go green." As superchristian I spend lots of time in prayer and Bible study throughout the day and volunteer at my church. And I do all of these things with a smile on my face and with great alacrity.

Who in all of creation can do all of this?

Back before two pink lines appeared on the stick, Matt and I were going to wait a few years to have kids. I was going to work for a while, and we were going to save money, pay off debt, and get to a place (or as close as possible) where I could stay at home with our kids until they went to school. And then God said "um, no." I love my new son. I love this new part of my life, this new part of me. I love it all so much, in fact, that I'm struggling with going back to that other part of me. I love teaching. I've worked long and hard to become a teacher. And, as previously discussed, I need that part of me that is seperate from Ben, that outlet of "self." And so I'm conflicted. At this point, going back to work is a must. If I don't, we can't afford to live in our cheap apartment, eat, or put diapers on Ben. Additionally, I'm only in my second year of teaching. I have to teach for two more years in order to have my clear credential. Otherwise I lose it and I have to start over.

I'm fighting this struggle on multiple fronts. In going back to work, I feel like I'm cutting out this piece of myself. But if I didn't go back, I would probably still feel that. In going back to work, I'm inviting judgement from many who believe that working mom=negligent and seflish mom. But if I didn't go back, I would be inviting judgement from many who believe that "mom" is not job enough. I typically don't care about what society thinks of me. But I do care about my heart. And right now, it's a little broken. And I'm a little nervous about my abilities to "do it all." I might be able to squeeze all of the responsibilities in. But I'm not sure about the smiles and alacrity part. So I'll try to be and do everything. But at what cost? I get all the papers graded, but I'm impatient with my students? I get all the cooking and cleaning done, but I become an over-tired and resentful wife?

Lord, please help me do this. Please help me to be everything I need to be, learn where and when to make sacrifices, and do it with a joyful and grateful heart. Dry the tears I know will fall tomorrow morning when I get in my car. Give me the strength and desire to wear every hat and do it well.

The Demise of Professionalism

So lately I have become intrigued by the startling lack of professionalism in the world of customer service. I don't know if it's because I'm all kinds of negative and cynical; or if it's because, as I have witnessed as a middle school teacher, there is a pervasive apathy creeping through the country. Or it could be because I live in the Land of Entitlement (also known as "The OC"). But I have become saddened by this thing I have become privy to.

Yesterday I went to Starbucks for a little treat (the new Banana Chocolate Vivanno thing--my new tasty weakness). I ordered my beverage and wheeled the stroller over to the pick-up counter. I don't like to stand really close to it, because it's nerve-wracking to the poor baristas when people are staring at them while they work. But the store is pretty small, so while I wasn't in their faces I was still only maybe 5 or six feet away. One barista (a gentleman) picked up my labeled cup and let out an exasperated sigh. The ensuing conversation:

Barista 1: I HATE making these. They're such a pain in the ass.
2: Me too.
1: Will you do it?
2: Fine. But I hate these...they're such a pain.

Did they forget that they're in an open space with the customers standing right there? That just a few feet away is the person that ordered it? Are you kidding me?

I'm seriously the nicest customer. I've been there, and I know that there are a lot of rude, demanding people that come through. I say please and thank you, smile, and ask how they're doing. I try to be a bright spot in their day. And half the time I get ignored, and the other half I get gruff responses. I get that serving people can be difficult and can really try your patience. But does professionalism have to be saved for business men and women who wear suits and carry briefcases?

God has, of course, taken this opportunity to remind me of my own shortcomings in this area (isn't that just like him?). I know that when I worked at restaurants and at Starbucks that I was not always the consumate professional. So I want to take this time to apologize to you, to everyone, for those times that I did not treat my job or my customers with the utmost courtesy and respect. And I want to be better about being professional and respectful towards my students. I want to treat them as the children of God that they are.

God, please forgive me for my lack of professionalism, and please give me patience and grace when I encounter others.

Spiderman bandaids

Benjamin had his two month well-baby checkup today. Our big boy is 12 pounds 3.9 ounces (I was a little off before) and 24.5 inches. Dr. Plum said he's doing very well, and is even pretty advanced in some of the things he can do (sitting up, sleeping all night). Go Ben! He does, however, have a little head problem. Because of the hematoma on the left side of his head that he was born with (and has since gone), he has long preferred turning his head to the right when laying on his back. As a result, he has something called plagiocephaly. It just means that one side of his head is flatter than the other. It's not super serious--it should resolve itself with time.

He got three shots, which he was not into. He screamed like someone was trying to kill him. But he did get three spiderman bandaids (I'm sure he cares a lot), and he fell asleep as soon as he hit the carseat.

Random sidenote: The nurses and the doctor marveled at his long, luscious eyelashes. Sweet boy.

Random moments with the boy...

Baby Abercrombie.

Hello, my name is eyelashes.

I know...I feel the same way sometimes.

Literary Masterpiece of the Day

The other day when the Millers were walking around Barnes & Noble, I came upon the "Politics" display table. I circled the table once and noticed this little book nestled between a book about McCain and a book about Obama.

So I guess in between trimming his beard and fighting crime in Texas as "Walker: Texas Ranger," Mr. Norris had time to write a book about his musings on politics titled "Black Belt Patriotism."

To my chagrin he did not offer insight into politics like "Karate Chop the national debt" or "roundhouse kick to the face of America!" He simply offers his view on the current political culture and what needs to be done to reawaken America.

The parts I read were serious in tone and topic, but the cover makes me laugh every time I see it. It makes me wonder if he worked his way through all the other patriotic belts to become a black belt patriot. Was there a "All Valley" style political competition against Cobra Kai that Chuck took 1st place in?

I don't most people out there will think this is as funny as I do, but as my wife knows, I have a special pedigree of humor.

If you wish to know more about Mr.Norris check out this site. It is full of "facts" about Chuck Norris.

Favorite Chuck fact: Chuck Norris and Mr. T walked into a bar. The bar was instantly destroyed, as that level of awesome cannot be contained in one building.

Long Day's Journey into Night

So I'm not a big sharer. I mean, emotionally. I can share my toys, no problem; sometimes even to my detriment. Like this one time in college when I loaned my VHS copy of The Titanic to a friend, and I never got it back because he (yes, he) apparently liked to share, too. You can imagine how sad I still am about this.

Anyhow. While I have no problems with sharing my toys or my opinions (which other people may not always be so excited about), I do struggle with sharing myself. I've been burned a lot in the past (who hasn't?), and I am typically reluctant to unload my baggage onto others, even when they beg. So this blog thing is a stretch for me. An attempt to lighten that baggage load and maybe, just maybe, grow. So in the spirit of vulnerability and accountability, I share.

I've wanted to be a teacher since I was five. I know--most kids wanted to be a fireman or a ballerina. I wanted to stay in school forever. Nerd. But it's who I've always been. And sometimes that's been a struggle. Thanks to a dad who never accepted me no matter how hard I tried and a host of peers that did not necessarily crave the company of a scrawny girl in glasses who liked to read and play school for fun, I struggled with that part of my identity for a long time. It wasn't until later in college that I really embraced the nerd that I was. And even since then it's been a long, hard journey into discovering who I really am, who I want to be, and really accepting myself in all of my glory. And it's really only been in the last couple of years that I've gotten there, or at least nearly. To a place where, nasty faults and all, I really know and like me.

And then I got pregnant. Nine months later, I became a mother. And since then, the rest of my self, all of those parts that I had discovered and learned to love as me, seemed to disappear. My whole life is this little, wonderful guy. Please don't get me wrong--Ben is my world. But in the midst of it, I feel like I lost my self. The first month, even beyond, I was, to be honest, miserable. I cried all the time. I doubted everything I did. And by the time five or six weeks had passed and the hardest part was coming to a close, I realized that I didn't even recognize myself. I feel wretched and selfish every time I think to myself, "Can I just give him back for a day so I can lay on the couch all day, watch TV, and read?"

The constant stream of society's conflicting messages doesn't help. If you let him cry himself to sleep, he will grow up insecure and think you don't love him. If you keep holding him and rocking him to sleep he will depend on you forever. If you don't breastfeed, you don't love him. If you breastfeed at your own expense and make yourself crazy in the process, you won't be any good to him. If you stay at home, you're a blot on women's rights. If you go to work, you're a terrible mother. Clearly I'm exaggerating. The heart of the matter, however, is there. No matter what I do I'm failing somehow.

It's taken me 28 years to develop a modicum of self confidence. And now, in the time it took to deliver my baby, I feel like I'm back at the beginning.

I had a conversation with this woman that I know that made me both sad and terrified. She is a mother, and a very good one. I asked her what she liked to do for fun. She said to be with her kids. I asked her what she liked to do with her free time when she is not with her kids (which, since they have all left home, is a lot of time). She had no answer for me. In the course of a fairly long conversation, I discovered that she couldn't think of any favorite books, pasttimes, or hobbies that didn't involve her kids. All of her dreams and desires rested on her kids. I asked her what she did before she had kids. She listed all kinds of things. When I asked why she didn't do them anymore, she said that once you have kids you can't do the things you love anymore. You only do the things your kids love.

I have to know that I'm still me. That, while I'm having a little identity crisis now, I will someday be a better version of myself, with the core pieces of my old self intact. I have to know that God did not create me to be a smart, clever, passionate person who loves reading and art and theatre only to give it all up at 29. I love my son more than I ever thought possible until the moment they placed him on my stomach at 12:16 am. But I need to know that Ben's mom is more than a mom. She's a whole, complete person with interests and desires. I know that with motherhood comes sacrifices, and I'm in. But does my personality have to go down on that altar? If so, then it goes. But if not, when do I get it back? How do I once again find that person I finally came to love?




This long, self-indulgent rant is brought to you by my dusty Barnes and Noble and library membership cards.