Towel: thrown in

Awhile ago I mentioned on Twitter that I have been feeling droopy despite getting 8-9 hours of sleep, eating spinach salads for lunch and working out. Like I'm just kind of pooped and lacking my usual zip-zip. 

I have no zip-zip lately, guys.

On the mornings I'm not working, I can't even bring myself to get out of bed early enough to take off my jammie top and do my hair. I just put on a hat and a fleecie. Sometimes I don't even shower until right before bed which means that earlier I went to two schools, two times each looking a bit rough.

Kenya, help me.

Here's the thing: I don't so much care.

I don't know anyone in this town. I don't have to go to work most days. I'm not seeing any friends. It's like my newness to town has given me an excuse to give zero craps. I run errands. I do some stuff. I feel run down so I rest. I don't know. Part of me wonders if it's because I'm isolated in the apartment and in this new area, so why bother. I'm not lonely or unhappy--just kind of...droopy.

Maybe it's part of needing to take a break from always being "done" and rushing around. Maybe I need to get my blood checked because the anemia is back. Maybe I just need to channel my inner Elizabeth and rally the troops to put on some damn pants already.

Or not.

Who knew.

I think one of the things that has surprised me the most about how I have decided to parent Ezra (although, this applies to Iris as well) is that in particular circumstances I am not bothered when Ezra has chosen to use his hands instead of his words.

Daycare-turned-preschool was big on "Use your words!" and being an early and very articulate communicator, this message for how to handle himself with his peers and teachers worked really well for Ezra. T can communicate his feelings in a very skilled way and lord knows I love to talk about my own thoughts and feelings, so it has been our model at home as well.

Then in the second week of kindergarten Ezra was sent to the principal's office for pushing two classmates. Holy crud seriously with the principal's office in kindergarten, child? We talked about it at home that evening and Ezra shared that two boys from his class were teasing him and following him around the playground. They did not listen to his words to stop or leave him alone so he shoved them down to the ground. They were upset by this and so cue a trip to the principal's office.

In that instance, I reminded Ezra that he did the right thing with telling them repeatedly to leave him alone; that he "used his words." I reminded him that he can always talk to an adult at school if someone is bothering him. That an adult will intervene. I did not articulate that I was okay him pushing them down because they wouldn't listen, but inside I wasn't ruffled at all.

Today Ezra's teacher let me know that a fellow classmate was being "annoying" (her words after Ezra described the event to her; she did not witness what was happening until after the fact) and chasing Ezra and bothering him on the playground and that in attempt to get it to stop, that Ezra swung at him but did not make contact. 

Ezra saw his teacher talking to me at school pick-up and, boy howdy, he knew what it was about. He cried in the car. He told me that Jacob wouldn't leave him alone and kept chasing him with the basketball and wouldn't listen. Again, we talked about just telling an adult, his teacher, when that happens again. That they will step-in.

Here's my thing, though: in both those instances, and I have to believe that this will be his future inclination as well, Ezra did what he knew--for the most part--to get away from the hassle. Taking a swing was his last resort. Taking a swing should always be your last resort.

I also want my children (and this is where it applies to Iris as well) (oh, raising a girl makes me nervous in this regard) to know that they can protect their bodies and their persons with whatever means necessary when their gut tells them to. Someone gets too close and doesn't listen to your words? Take action. Someone is threatening and no adult is around? Take action. I support that. 

I do not support taking a swing at someone because they snatched your blue crayon (problems now) or accidentally dinged your car door with theirs (problems later).

So it's a fine line and one I'm trying to straddle delicately (T and I are on the same page, by the way). It's getting easier as Ezra gets older and I further see what a solid spirit he has with kindness and what his tendencies are for handling situations. I hope to be able to delicately explain how to protect himself but also be diplomatic. 

The continuum

The change from being a dual income home to largely a single income household has been interesting and it has had me thinking about what that means to me.

When we met in 1999, T's salary was twice mine. I was in graduate school, and while still working full-time at my dad's ad agency, simply not making very much. I eventually finished graduate school and was fortunate to find a full-time librarian position right after graduation and before we were married (all events within weeks of one another). T just kept on trucking.

I worked. He worked. His salary continued to eclipse mine two, three, four times over. Libraries, even in private, academic institutions, can't compete with the corporate world.

It never felt like it was something I needed to compensate for in our relationship. Given the discrepancy in our earnings--and mostly his generous nature, he treated while we dated. After marrying, we merged accounts. Jointly bought a home and cars and life insurance and savings and furniture. In the pool of resources for our family, it was ours. His and mine.

Now that's a bit different. I am still working part-time, but at 8-15 hours a week the take home pay doesn't contribute much beyond buying my Starbucks and the occasional new skirt(s).

But tied up in that discussion (or internal mulling over) of income is how I am sorting through what our "jobs" are now. It has started to feel like his job and my job are now much more clearly defined. By and large, his job and its earnings are what end up in our bank accounts. While my job and its "earnings" are now demonstrated by keeping things moving peacefully and happily at home. Now those aren't cement wall boundaries, by any means. T obviously still does things that contribute to our home and I am still working part-time. Neither one of us throws up our hands and refuses to participate in working hard for one another--how ever that might be demonstrated.

So while my contributions to our bank accounts are smaller, our home is quieter. And I love it, for now at least. The last five years of my life have been intense. Blessed and wondrous and stressful and intense. I think stepping back a few months out has me realizing that. You do what you need to do when you're in the thick of it, but Johnny don't be a hero. I decided to go back to work three weeks having Noah and Iris for reasons that were reasoned and intentional...and yet damn. Two kids who are 18 months apart in age and working full-time while having a husband not largely at home due to work travel...damn again. All of that is not a pace to be maintained. Now I can breathe. I can be. 

It will be interesting to see where this path of being will take me; take us. In the meantime I am trying to appreciate and value what I am being shown about my role in our family, T's role, and how we can evolve together. 

Progess!

Two weeks ago:

Saddest second story in all the land. Or an
expensive art installation about isolation
in a consumerist economy.

This Monday:

Living room.

Dining room--garage behind it.

From kitchen--butler's pantry into
dining room.

Pantry dance party.

On Thursday:

Windows! Some roofing stuff!

From the kitchen into the
family room.

In the kitchen--the stove area and
the back entryway.

School: what! what!

So the kids started school on Tuesday.
















Ezra came in the bathroom that morning saying, "My tummy hurts and I'm nervous." He still scarfed down many mini pancakes and strawberries, though. 

Walking into the school, Ezra kept saying, "I'm not ready. I want my old school. I'm not ready. It's too busy."

The crowds in his school lobby were overwhelming. Parents and kids and siblings and strollers and it was not the best set-up. The principal has been nothing but warm and welcoming, but I'm beginning to suspect that her outfit is a little bit more loosey-goosey than Iris' school. Not much communication. Teacher assignments received on Friday. You get the drift.

So we sat in the vestibule on the benches outside the school doors and I gave him a hug. I even asked him, "Do you want to say a little prayer for bravery?" He said "yes," so we did.

After lining up and being released when the bell rang we walked down to his locker. He shares a locker with a girl in his class ("She's brown like me!") and he literally skipped into his classroom after shaking hands with his teacher.

Two little boys joined him at the group table--one with a Lego Movie t-shirt and one with a Chima t-shirt on. Sporting his own Ninjago t-shirt, Ezra started talking to them right away. I just kind of stared and didn't feel ready to rip the cord. But by this time, Iris was already 15 minutes late for school and we still had to drive there.

Walking into her school, Iris was super keen on wearing her backpack and carrying her kitty lunchbox. A classroom aide helped Iris find her nametag and put away her lunchbox and backpack. But when I told her that I was going to leave and would come back after snack and would she like a hug? Stuff got a little shaky. 



I didn't leave with her crying which was a gift. I kinda knew she would (and did), though.

The principal--who is a MASTER PRINCIPAL--no really, she's amazing--stopped me on my way out and asked how Iris was doing. The principal herself holding the hand of an older girl who was a little bit Weepy Willie. 

I walked out of the building saying, "Oh god oh god oh god oh god." I was just so worried about everything. Would she cry all day? Would she use the potty? Would she eat lunch? Would the kids be able to understand her raspy voice? None of which I could control, and all of which I would have to surrender and let be.

I distracted myself all day with errands and not cooking dinner and then went to pick them up. It takes me about an hour and fifteen minutes round trip to drive to Iris' school, walk in, pick-up, teacher debrief, back in the car, onto the next school, and then back home.

Iris' teacher said she had a good day, that she did cry, that she did not use the bathroom (I highly suspect it freaks her out as she had an accident today which bums me out...) but rather held it all day (dayum), and totally warmed up to the kids--whom she now calls her friends--and the routine in the afternoon. 

Ezra said he has two new best friends and a secret handshake. 

Both were smiling and happy and chatty and reported back that no one was mean. Success.

I am still worried about Iris not drinking her milk at lunch (homegirl needs the calories), but I'm trying to compensate by giving her more milk at snack and dinner. T and I decided that if the month goes by and that's still happening, that we would weigh her and maybe up the powder supplement that goes into her milk mixture if it looks like she's lost weight. And maybe even go back up to whole milk. 

I am still worried about her not using the potty, but it's only day two, right? Ezra had a classmate in kindergarten who frequently had accidents simply because she waited too long to go. It's early days for Iris and this skill, so I have to slow my roll, I know. I guess I was just so encouraged by how well she was doing at home, that I'm a little dismayed by this (singular) set back. Okay. Processing it out loud makes me seem unreasonable about this, so I'm going to try and relax. I sent extra clothes, discussed it with her teacher, it's going to be fiiiine.

Ezra. Well, Ezra is great. His first math worksheet shows that he is a tidgy bit ahead of the game so our summer of loafing didn't atrophy his skills too much. He's happy. I like his teacher. He's making friends which is practically that boy's calling. Ezra told me today that a new boy is coming tomorrow and that he "is going to make him feel welcome and offer to be his best friend." His one complaint about his classroom: "Mama, there aren't any TOYS." Uh, sir, this isn't kindergarten anymore.