Walking Dread: Putting Too Much on My Plate

I thought this was supposed to be my relaxation time. I am done with event season and pictured myself lulling through the days with nothing to do except volunteer at my daughter's school. So WHY am I working on a million things this week alone?! I've got a Halloween get together at my house Thursday, I'm speaking at career day for my daughter's school Friday and am producing a church event Saturday. Add to that writing a script for a friend's show, planning my daughter's birthday and getting ready to host Thanksgiving at our house - that's like what, six things between now and Thanksgiving - three of them being this week?

My daughter didn't have school today so I thought I'd take her to the zoo, but I ended up spending at least three hours trying to get this church event together. I am ashamed to say I said some awfully un-Godly words during those three hours including a few I made up. Parker kept asking to eat because she was hungry, and I kept saying "I"ll be right there" as the phone kept ringing. Finally she got tired of waiting and went to the fridge, pulled out the ham and cheese and said she was making her own sandwich. I even let her dress herself - it didn't bother me that there wasn't a lick of soap nor water on her body - at least she had clean clothes on and it was one less thing for me to do. Thankfully a little later my mother-in-law came by with my nephew - I thought letting them rip the house to shreds was a small price to pay for getting out to do some errands.

Came back to a still standing house and let Park have every piece of candy I could find as well as put on my red lipstick, so I could work on my presentation for her school. How did things get this mad? It's to the point where my business partner called me about something work related and I could barely return her call because of the personal stuff I was doing. I keep pushing my "I can relax" date back - first it was September after my last large event, then it was October, now I am looking at after Thanksgiving!

I'm falling off the wagon with my eating too - I see that scale starting to inch its way back up and chocolate tempting me again as if it were crack. I just can't do one cookie. One turns into 157. Last week I ran, I roped, I did floor routines and I STILL put on a pound - THAT is how much chocolate I am consuming. Not to mention I'm slipping back into staying up late - especially on Sundays - Once Upon a Time, Walking Dead, Talking Dead, Homeland, Masters of Sex - I'm DVRing stuff to watch later but later just becomes later on the same night. I was a zombie this morning, but I made myself run - even if it only keeps the weight at bay.

As I am writing this Park is screaming for me to turn a scarf into a dress as she disrobes and demands "no sleeves!" Took care of that and now I am counting the seconds until Larry gets home, after which time I will kiss him hello, go upstairs and zone out until tomorrow. It's his turn... Dammit - the dress fell apart, let me go search for a larger scarf!

Mom - There's Chicken in My Butt

Yesterday my daughter told me there was chicken in her butt - and she had no idea how it got there - and neither did I since we didn't have chicken that day. I didn't bother to look, I just assumed it was one of the many interesting comments she says in a day. I am constantly amazed at what comes out of her mouth and what she can get in to. This child is active 24/7 to the point where after swim class this man once said "Ma'am, I don't know if you have any boys but if you don't, that's your little boy right there."

I mean she jumps, she flips, she spins and I'm sitting there thinking, I am in my forties dealing with this - what in the world? She is up at 6:30 on weekends and if we let her, she'd stay up all night. She craves independence and kept telling my sister on a recent visit that if she was "a monkey and not a people" she'd be free to do what she wants and not have to listen to people telling her what to do. When I hold her hand she says I hold it too tight, when she dresses herself it typically includes seven skirts on her head - a pair of shorts, lipstick and boots and I'm thinking what in the hell will she be like as a teenager.

I spend my time running behind her picking up items of clothes, putting furniture back in place and being grateful that I can still cartwheel, hula hoop and jump rope - all things I have to pull out of my arsenal occasionally. At any moment I have to be prepared to run, jump, hide - whatever is required. Last week I played a serious game of tag with her and some friends she made on the playground while their much younger parents just sat there in amusement. I'm realizing I actually have more energy than some of the younger moms. Once I climbed to the top of a three story tree house with my daughter and a young mother congratulated me for being able to make the climb! Did she expect me to need oxygen at some point?

I actually think I'm healthier than when I was younger. Waking up to an alarm clock everyday for the first time in 20 years so my daughter can make the school bus is daunting, but it gets me up and running and or jumping rope the minute the bus door closes. I can now run four miles easily - and I hate running, and jump six sets of 500 in less than 30 minutes. Last year when I drove my daughter to school, I got back into the habit of going to a gym on a regular basis as I needed to kill time until her half day pick-up. So for all of the lunacy I am in better shape for it.

But my daughter will still throw amazing zingers to knock me off my horse - like the time she cried when she realized daddy wasn't home, Mommy can't cook and she wondered who was going to feed her. Or when she simply yelled "I hate your work" when she saw me packing to go out of town. Yes kids have a way of knocking you back down to reality, but their honesty and clarity is refreshing and honestly, I wish more people had it.

So this week I expect to continue chasing after my mad-hatter, exercising to insure I'm up to the task, praying Larry gets home in time to make dinner and at some point, I am sure, find out just where that piece of chicken landed.

Mommy's Self Sabotage

When it comes to my daughter I am on point. If there is something I want her to do, I'll sign her up in a minute - dance, swim, gymnastics and this year we added chess into the mix. I worry about over taxing her and always give her the chance to opt out (except for swimming), but right now she truly enjoys it. People think it's a waste of money to have children travel so young, but I think kids absorb culture, etiquette and language simply by getting on the road. So she's had her passport since she was about a year and already has a few countries under her belt. I create books with airport tickets and photos to capture what she might not be able to remember. When it comes to school, we hit the library a few times a week and practice math, letters and reading. So when it comes to her I invest all of my time and energy.

When it comes to me - not so much. I can't figure it out. I can be extremely dedicated in getting something done for other people; I'm a hard worker and I like to get it done right. But personally I am a little lax. I start a blog - then drop it, then pick it back up and for the life of me can't tell people the correct way to access it. I joined Weight Watchers - and I've had success, but it seems like right when I get within one pound of their goal weight for me I'll eat a pizza capped off with a box of cookies, then I'm up three pounds. I'll start a side project and drop it. I'm a lousy friend - I don't call anyone nearly as much as I should. I'll go get my hair done and swear that this time I'll commit to keeping it nice and two weeks later I am in a pony tail. It seems like I'll commit to anything/anyone but myself or like I intentionally do something to get in the way of moving forward - why?

When I was in grad school my goal was to get to class, get the message and get out. I rarely participated or spoke up. After the first exam, I got an A- and the professor wrote me a note about not hiding my light under a bushel - but it didn't move me to speak I just completed the class with my A. When I volunteered for a reading program years ago, one of the older volunteers told me how great I was and that I should be in sales. He said he used to work in television and he knew who was good when he saw them. I looked him up and found out he was the former head of a major network. I did work in television but I never followed up with him. Chance to have lunch with a major sportscaster while working out of town - no thanks - had a plane to catch. Met a major R&B artist's team and got chance to hang out with them and see their show - again, no thanks, it would make me have to delay getting home. I get the chance to work with a lot of great people, but don't care if they even know my name, preferring to create in the background and letting my team take the lead.

I know I like to be in the background but it's like I intentionally avoid opportunities to be noticed. Or if I am, I put the light out - yet I expect my daughter to do it all. I know in life I have been successful and I am extremely grateful to have run a business for 20 years that's allowed me to travel the world and control my own schedule; to have a great marriage and a great kid. But I feel like I've avoided doing even more. I know women's magazines write articles about busy, over-taxed women learning to say "no," but I need to learn to say "yes" - to me. So I'll edge a little closer to the spotlight, slowly, tentatively, I'll creep toward the sun.

Well I'll Be...When Planning for Halloween Goes Wrong

Ok, I am a planner. I do it for a living, I do it in my personal life. I am always ready with a plan of action to prevent potential disaster. My wedding - didn't find a place until Halloween and was done with seating before my goal of New Year's Eve, despite the fact that my wedding was not until March. So when a blizzard hit the week of my wedding, I still managed to sleep on my wedding the day. The photographer was so shocked to see a bride so relaxed that she snapped a picture. School for my daughter - started looking for kindergarten schools back in 2010 or 2011 - she is the class of 2014. But along the way I tripped onto a great free school that started at pre-K 3 and goes to 8th grade, and we got in. So what did I do - I started researching high schools! I figure I have ten years to research and track the progress of schools I'm interested in and then figure out a way to pay or not pay for it. Back in the early 2000s when I was living in Brooklyn, I'd go to the gym to get my body in shape for when I had a baby - when I didn't even have dating prospects. People would ask are you married? "Nope." Are you pregnant? "Nope." But eight years later, I finally got there. Despite four hospital visits including landing in one after a hula hoop contest, getting hit by a car, and coming a month early, I delivered a healthy baby and only put on 28 pounds. Honestly I think the kid was just ready to get the hell out of my womb!

I just like to be ready. I don't like to be caught off guard, but if I am, I at least like to have a rehearsed plan of what to do. I've learned to let that go for the most part on vacation, although by the third or fourth day I start twitching if I haven't gotten around to some things that I wanted to do. I am a work in progress.

So this year I thought, why not get ready for Halloween early? I usually wait until a few days before and then get the house ready. We always have a few kids over to go trick or treating and I thought, why not make October Halloween month? So this past Saturday I told my daughter that we'd spend a little time getting the house ready. We went into the basement and pulled out the bins with our items. Nothing scary - just a few sparkly skeleton heads, themed tablecloths - not much. I left the skeleton and pumpkin plates, cups and napkins, the candy jars, grave stones and smoke machine alone. They don't need to come out until closer in. I just wanted to make it a little easier to get ready. But I was excited to share the experience with my daughter.

Everything for me is about giving her memories. We are not big on gifts or toys, but we like things that produce great memories, going to museums or plays, vacations and home memories like painting and decorating for the holidays. So we had a blast putting out items and pulling on cotton to make spider webs. Usually I just hang them in the entry to the dining room but this time I wanted to do the windows in the dining room and living room. We pulled and tacked and taped and the windows looked pretty darn good. We finished by putting fake candles in the haunted house, and sprinkling sparkly black and orange things on the table cloths. Satisfied, I went upstairs to get ready for a birthday party we were going to while I left Parker downstairs to watch TV. I'm upstairs feeling so ahead of the game, singing in the shower when I hear Parker screaming. I run out the shower to see what's going on and she's practically hysterical running up the stairs. I'm like "Parker, what's wrong, what's wrong?!" And she said "Mommy, I'm SCARED of the spider webs!" I thought, "Well I'll be damn - I just spent two hours putting these friggin webs up - with her help, so she KNOWS they're not real - and now she's scared of them?!"

I spent the rest of our time gently guiding her away from the front of the house until we left for the party. For dinner last night we had to convince her to sit in the dining room as she was still afraid. It's now Monday and I am STILL averting her eyes from those two rooms! Let me tell you something - those webs are staying up there until Halloween if it kills me. My mom, who I get it from, is already planning to come up before Thanksgiving to help me get ready for Christmas. So I still have my schedule, but maybe, just maybe, next year Halloween will start a little later!

Breaking Bed: Getting My Daughter to Sleep in Her Own Room

I admit it; my daughter is almost five years old and still sleeping in our bed. We've made progress over the years, but were back to square one after I went away for work. Although I no longer travel often, when I am gone it is usually for more than a week. So I left last year and when I returned my daughter and husband made it clear that they had their own routine worked out - which consisted of her being in our bed, snuggled up like a cat at the top of our head board. At first I protested, but when my husband said "It's the only time she's closer to me, than to you," I relented. It was true - during the day, when not in school, Parker is literally up under me. If I go upstairs, she follows, if I go to the bathroom, she follows, it's to the point where my husband has to divert her attention so I can sneak a break.

So for the past year, every night she begins by coming into our room going to Larry's side of the bed (as she learned long ago that not even a crying child wakes me once I am out)crawling onto his back where she'll rest for a bit and then work her way to the head board. But she moves through the night and it seems like we make every position of the alphabet over the course of the evening. It usually ends sometime around 6:00 a.m. when without fail, one of those moves results in a swift kick to my bladder - which gets me up for the day.

Yet, I resigned myself to this being the way of life. Plus, I did like waking up to her sweet face each morning and was amazed how she automatically slept in the same position as me or Larry. But this Saturday, I was watching Dr. Gayle on CBS and the segment happened to be on kids sleeping with their parents. Dr. Gail Saltz (whom I love)mentioned how it harms a child's self-confidence, makes them less independent and basically, in my mind was counter-productive to all the benefits I felt I was giving her at her Montessori School. So that was it. I announced to Larry "starting tonight she's sleeping in her own bed." Dr. Gail promised if we tough it out for a week, we'd be golden.

That night we put her to bed and I told her she would not be allowed to sleep in our room. It started out okay but then the all-night pilgrimages started with her coming to our room, being sent back and coming back again - but I stuck to my guns. Nights #2 and #3, the poor thing gave up on coming to the room upon waking up and just started howling. That of course sprung Daddy into action - he ran into her room and found her crying - not in the bed, but in a corner behind the bed saying "I'm scared, Daddy." At this point I wanted to hunt Dr. Gail down so I can sit in a corner in her office and scream. I felt like a horrible, mean shrew, inflicting torture on my child - my mother and husband agreed - with Larry cutting me mean looks in the morning and my mom reminding me that we slept her in her bed every night until we were 11 and we turned out ok - but I stuck to my guns. Last night I told her that her pom-poms served double duty as a mechanism to swish monsters away and to use it if sh felt scared. Then I went to bed. I woke this morning with a hopeful smile on my face and asked my husband "Did she wake up? I didn't hear her cry." Of course she did - and of course he came to the rescue. Apparently, although she may not yet be able to sleep through the night, I am handling it better every day. And the way I see it, Daddy can still be the hero swooping down to rescue his princess. I'm going to give that another week because princesses should learn to rescue themselves!

So we'll see how it goes. I must admit, I miss her in our bed. I feel like I am letting my baby go - I already lament the fact that at almost five - she only has 13 more years living with us before she heads to college. It seems like it's moving so fast. I kick her out the door each day to be independent, I always remind her that "Mommy is not going to be around to do things for you all the time so you have to learn to do them for yourself," yet I love when she sits in my lap, grabs my face in her hands, or runs to me each day when I pick her up from school. I know this is more about me than about her. I want my baby, but I also want her to be fiercely independent. So we start with bed - and then we'll move on slowly, on to life.