3-2-1: What I miss, what I love, and what I've learned

You can take the teacher out of the classroom, but you can't take the classroom out of the teacher.  And so it goes...a 3-2-1 for my present day.

Three things I miss about Naperville (not Chicago, because I didn't actually live there).

1. My friends...this goes without saying, really.  All of my friends; the ones I saw every day and the ones I saw on occasion, but knew they were there.  I miss the laughter and the conversations.  Man, I miss the intelligent conversations...I miss seeing their cars in the Target parking lot and last minute play dates.  I miss the gossip.  And the hugs.  And the familiarity of what it means to have friends.  I miss the security that comes with truly being friends with your neighbors.  
2. The food!  Ugh!  This is so unfair!  I didn't even know what a Portillo's hot dog WAS until I moved there.  And I didn't know that giardiniera peppers make the perfect condiment on everything!  And whoa! Garrett's popcorn is an entity unto itself.  Note to self: order some giardiniera peppers from amazon...stat!
3. A school for my daughters where they are loved.  Academically, I could not be happier with their new school.  I think they have adjusted well and they continue to do well.  I have resilient, bright children (if I do say so myself) and they are proving this day in and day out.  Their teachers like them (one of the VPK teachers commented that she wanted B in her class next year...cue my heart swelling with pride).  But it's not the same.  The hugs are not as warm, the voices not as genuine, the friendships are not real.  My kids are happy to be around other kids, but their new friends pale in comparison to their old ones.  When we FaceTime with Bella's old class I am reminded of this like a punch in the gut.  The sincere happiness and joy that crosses the faces of her old classroom of friends is priceless.  I miss that for them.  

Two things I love about Florida.

1. The pool in our backyard!  Until last week I was on the fence.  I didn't know if it would be worth it...it definitely is!  Especially now that the girls are swimming so well, I know that we will spend many days/nights in there!  I'm trying to forget that we don't really have a backyard (especially compared to our backyard in IL) and focus on the amazing summer we are about to have!  There will be plenty of opportunities to enjoy grilling and warm summer evenings.  It's pretty  awesome.
2. All of the memories we are making.  Yes, some of these are Disney related, but many are not.  Bella told me the other day, "Mommy, I like it better when you don't work.  I get to see you more."  And that's what this is all about.  Making memories, even simple ones, with my family.  Snuggling in bed on a random Tuesday morning, picking blueberries, dusting sand out of the girls' sandals as they adjust to the texture, watching them splash in the waves at the beach, burying their daddy in the sand, staying up way past their bedtime to watch the fireworks at Magic Kingdom...the list goes on and on.  And it is incredible.  

One thing I've learned about myself. 

1. Sometimes isolation is liberating.  Last weekend I was told, by someone whose opinion matters to me a great deal, that I seem very comfortable in my own skin for the first time in a very long time.  This was an interesting observation considering a large part of my struggle since moving has been the unease I've felt about not working.  Couple that with the isolation of having made one friend in four months and you have a recipe for a very strong "woe is me" attitude.  And until the aforementioned conversation, I kind of thought I had that attitude.  But I was forced to see things through different lenses momentarily, and psychoanalyze (with all of my expertise) myself.  

Those of us fortunate enough to find ourselves in the exclusive club called "motherhood" put an enormous amount of pressure on ourselves.  Let me say this again, we put it on ourselves!  Even when we don't want to admit it, we have placed ourselves on a stage of epic proportions.  Pinterest is partially to blame, and social media in general.  But it is, at the core, our own insecurities and imperfections that  push us into this colosseum of competition.  It is the desire to be "good" mothers and raise "good" kids that creates in us an insatiable appetite for cute birthday parties and healthy dinners, when the reality is that my daughters want colorful cupcakes with cheap plastic ring toppers for their birthday parties and raviolis and frozen green beans for dinner (yes, still frozen).  What should drive us is our children's happiness.  Yes, they need discipline.  And yes, they need boundaries.  Anyone who knows us knows that we have both of these in our home.  But, at the end of the day, don't we just want our kids to be happy?

And this is where I've found myself.  At the end of the competition highway, surrounded by the people that matter most to me, striving, with each and every day, to make sure that we are happy.

I  know the name of one of the other moms at the girls' school.  I've attempted, unsuccessfully, to reach out to several of them.  Have I done everything I can to connect with these mothers?  No.  Have I done quite a few things?  Yes.  When the time is right, the right kids will become friends with mine and I will connect with their moms.  But until that time, I've taken a step back.  And, suddenly, with the removal of competition and "keeping up with the Joneses" I've found peace with myself as a mother and wife.

I put "I ♥ you, B" notes in my daughter's lunch box because I know they make her smile.

I make S lunches that include four different silicone cupcake holders in different colors because she likes to have a little bit of everything in her lunchbox.

We make marshmallow snowmen with toothpicks because it makes them smile.

And we play with shaving cream because they think it's hysterical.

I challenge myself to make new,  healthy meals for the sole benefit of the people who enjoy them (even if I do post them on Facebook...I'm proud of them...I've worked hard to create them, and I really think I should be on Hell's Kitchen, if I'm being honest!)

Right now I'm doing these things for no one else's benefit but my kids'.  There's no one else to keep up with.  There's no one to try to match in style or athleticism.  There are no other kids to compare my own to.  Removing an immediate circle of onlookers has given me a very unique perspective.

I tell my daughter all the time, "worry about yourself".  I guess Mommy knows what she's talking about, after all!

Make new friends...but keep the old...

Okay.  Moving is hard.  The actual moving part is not so hard.  It's the readjusting and acclimating that's hard.  Why can't I do things as easily as Bella?  (I can't believe I just said that!  I was so worried about her.)  She walked right into her new school, made 10 new friends the first day, hugs them fiercely when she leaves, and never thinks twice.  She assumes they are her new best friends.  I am the one sitting on the sidelines cringing because I see the uncomfortable look on their faces when she hugs them.  They are not Sophia Warnock.  They don't think of her as their new best friend.  But she neither recognizes this or cares.  But my heart is slightly broken for her.

I, on the other hand, am struggling to meet people.  Staying at home does not provide many opportunities to meet other people, unless you put yourself out there.  And without knowing where to put yourself, it's hard.  I've run into some walls.  Cliquey walls.  The walls that you run into in middle school and high school.  They are still there.  And, surprisingly, they still hurt.

When we moved to Chicago I found myself in the same situation.  But the welcoming attitude was overwhelming.  I remember saying, "I wish I had more friends here" and "Oh, this mom seems like we could be friends".  It's a terrifying situation to be in, but it's real.  Luckily, we seemed to be surrounded by people who continuously sought out opportunities to make us feel welcomed.  I hadn't thought about this too deeply until last week when a friend posted this blog about making Mommy friends.  When I read this I thought, "Oh my!  That is me!"  And I was slightly horrified!  I don't know how to make friends anymore!

I have found myself for so many years in a work environment where you meet people with similar interests and they become your friends.  English teachers tend to have enough in common to form some relationships.  We like to talk.  We like to read.  We like to laugh.  We generally have a similar, slightly cynical, outlook on life, and we tend to like being around other people.  Teachers, by nature, like to be inclusive.  We spend our days in the classroom looking for ways to include the student who is being excluded.  And I think we let that take over in our "real" lives, also.  This fosters a work environment where the new teacher is almost immediately included in conversation and relationship building.  I've done this for so long that I am uncomfortable doing it outside of the work environment.

In Chicago I almost immediately met Jill, who moved in right next door the week after us, with three young kids, from New Jersey.  We immediately had common ground.  We were "in the middle of nowhere" completely outside of our comfort zones.  We clung to each other for dear life until we were confident enough to venture out on our own and our circles of friendship widened.  Now, when I think of our move to Chicago, I don't think I could have done it without her.  My girls are missing them.  We are missing them.  There's something very powerful and inexplicable about having people you trust and feel safe with living right next door.

But then there's the preschool mom thing.  I immediately made friends with the teachers at the girls' school in Chicago.  Everyone was so welcoming.  Over the last few weeks I've wondered why it's so different here.  And I think, through a few conversations with my husband and one of my dearest friends in Chicago, I've got it.

To quote my friend, "You know this has nothing to do with you, right?"  And I knew this.  But I needed to hear it.  The rejection, being snubbed, not fitting in...it hurts.  But the reality is as true now as an adult as it is in middle school.  It really has very little to do with me.  It's not the clothes I wear, the way my kids behave, or the neighborhood we live in.  It is the unwillingness of people to step outside of their comfort zones.  And I completely understand.  It is hard to put yourself in a situation of vulnerability.  And reaching out to the "new girl/family" puts people in the position to feel rejected.  Who would willingly put themselves in that situation?  I get it.  I really do.  I have to be honest in saying, I'm not sure I would be the same person, willing to reach out, if I hadn't been thrust into an uncomfortable zone three and a half years ago.  I might look at the new mom at preschool drop off, size up her doubts and unsure body language while she waves goodbye to her daughter, and not say a word.  I might have been that mom.  But because I didn't have a choice three and a half years ago, I know better how to reach out.  I'm not great at it.  But I'm willing to put myself in that position, because the pay off can be so incredibly rewarding.

Without reaching out to people in Chicago I would have never learned how to sew.  Or I would have never known what real city living was like.  I wouldn't have had random coffee dates in the summer.  And I wouldn't have laughed until my sides hurt.  I wouldn't have had a neighbor who knocked on my door on a random weeknight with a bottle of wine.  I wouldn't have had friends who kidnapped me for one last dinner date.  And I wouldn't have cried so hard when I left.  But I also would have spent three years not fitting in.  Not fitting in sucks, at any age.  But you have to be willing to make yourself vulnerable in order to fit in.

You have to be willing to throw the risk to the wind in order to reap the reward.

The identity crisis of a newly appointed Stay at Home Mom!

So.  Here I am again.  A stay at home mom.  I said I'd never do this again.  And, yet, I find myself in the exact same position that I was in just over three years ago.

And now there are two of them!  I'm outnumbered.

I hear women all over the country groaning..."You're so fortunate...I wish I could stay at home with my kids...I think that would be so wonderful..."  I hear you, and I understand you.  But hear me out on this.    I know that this is the dream of so many women, and probably quite a few men.  And I rarely hear women say what I'm about to say.  But it must be said.  Because I cannot possibly be alone on this.  Please tell me I'm not alone on this.

I love my children, but my world does not revolve around them.  Because the world will not revolve around them.  The four of us living in this home are all working and important parts of the same machine.  I have a very hard time adjusting to a life that does seem to revolve around my children, because right now, other than my husband, I have nothing in my life BUT them.  I can choose to look at this in a few different ways.  Some more optimistic than others.  But in the here and now of this moment,

I am having an identity crisis!  

I have spent so many years forming an identity.  I relate to my career, my friends, my newfound sewing hobby.  But all of a sudden I no longer have these things.  I do not wake up in the morning to be greeted by a classroom full of the leaders of tomorrow.  I am half a country away from the people that I spent time with every day; laughed, cried, joked with.  Built an identity with.  Texting is great.  Phone calls are great.  And, really, let's be honest, without facebook I might die.  But it's not the same.  Knowing that the distance is there makes it ten times greater than it is.  At least right now.  I unpacked my sewing machine and set it up on my desk, but I can't even begin to think about doing anything with it...there are boxes to unpack and about a million things to do that relate to the new home, selling the old home, or helping my girls get comfortable and acclimated; finding a school, a pediatrician, play groups, parks, libraries...the list goes on.

Somewhere between balancing budgets, grocery shopping, cooking, making lunches, cleaning, unpacking, playing Barbies, dressing dolls, practicing letters, shapes, numbers, etc., and enforcing bedtime (which I am purposely ignoring right now...the footsteps overhead are too loud, too excited, too eager to possibly go back to bed right now...I'm letting them play babies with each other, and I'm not going to feel badly about it) I've lost myself.

I am Jason's wife.  And Bella and Sophia's mom.

And while those roles are the most important roles in my life, they are not the only pieces of the puzzle that comprise the whole person.

(The monsters angels rule breakers girls are still awake...an hour and a half after bedtime.  I'm losing my mind.)

It is a struggle for me to reconcile the fact that I no longer have an identity that does not hinge on someone else.  I admire woman who embrace the role of stay at home mom in all it's glory.  Maybe it's due to upbringing or personality.  Or maybe it's due to a deep seeded desire to stand on my own two feet, even when I don't have to.  Stubbornness?  I hate that word!

I think that as a society we've adopted the understanding that being a stay at home mom is work.  It is not sitting around in your pajamas all day, eating bon bons and watching daytime television.  There is a newfound respect for women who choose to stay at home in today's culture of gender equality and feminism.  And there is an equal amount of respect for the women who work full time and still manage to run a household that has some semblance of normalcy.  But what about those of us stuck somewhere in the middle?  Trying to stay connected to their prechildren roots and independence while juggling every household responsibility known to man?  And not really feeling successful in either case.

I'm asking for a bit of compassion for those of us who find ourselves embracing the challenge of staying at home with our kids when our hearts might have a slight longing for our careers.  I am asking that you bite your tongue if your first reaction to hearing a woman is now staying home is to say something along the lines of, "I always wished I could have done that."  It truly is a knife of judgement.  It is a statement that implies that because I might not want to be with my kids 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, that I am a mother of subpar standards.  This is inaccurate.

I am a mother who wants to teach her daughters that we wear many different hats.  All of these hats are of value and importance.  Mother.  Teacher.  Wife.  Friend.  Learner.  Traveler.  Reader.  But at the end of the day the most important hat I can wear, and model for my children,  is one of genuine happiness and contentment.  One that shows my daughters that it is possible to find fulfillment in many different ways, simultaneously.  And when that fulfillment falters, it's okay to try something else for a while, even if that means *gasp* going back to work on your own terms.

Here's to the women just trying to maintain their relationships and raise good human beings while maintaining their own autonomy...and sometimes coming up short, but never losing sight of the ultimate goal.