I am a Household Management Project Leader

I've been blogging awhile.  Recent topics include vacations, family outings, Cub Scouts, holidays, and of course, my son and his antics.  Like so many people I know, I post about real life but with a utopian, slightly more idealistic, twist.

"Keeping up with the Joneses" is an expression I grew up with; it meant trying to keep up with the appearances, which is to say the money, prestige, house, yard, and life, of our neighbor/s.  Now-a-days "the Joneses" are not necessarily our neighbors.  They are the people we find on social media, too.  I am no longer just comparing myself to the woman down the street, I'm also comparing myself to the mother in Texas that's amazing at home decor, the woman in North Dakota that's a fabulous chef, or even some of my long lost friends and acquaintances on Facebook that seem to have the perfect family life; their kids are Olympic gymnasts, astrophysicists, and social entrepreneurs at the age of twelve.

The constant comparing has become draining and so has keeping up with my illusory posts.  The reality is that we do go on some amazing trips, and we do try to bring a taste of adventure into our otherwise ordinary, mundane lives.  But, my life isn't perfect.  To try and find adventure means to let other things go by the wayside.  My house is cluttered, my cooking is nill--relying on take out or pre-packaged meals, and on most days, when I have to wake up at five in the morning to plan and get ready for the day, I find myself on the couch by 8 p.m. in a vegetative state, which can only be compared to a coma, unless I'm full out sleeping (even when my son may not have had supper yet).

This is what my upstairs railing looks like on most days of the week...

My home office...just keepin' it real.

I recently ran into an article called "How Millennials Became the Burnout Generation" by Anne Helen Peterson.  Now, to be clear, I am not a Millenial.  At age 43, I am a "Generation Xer," but I'm only about five years older that the first of the Millennials.  The article resonated with me because I am, essentially, "burned-out."  I could go into all the details and all the "ah ha" moments Peterson provides because there are many of them, but I would be doing a disservice to the article itself, because it is, in my mind, a masterpiece, which fully illustrates how and why our lives, at this moment in time, have become so inexplicably complicated.  It's absolutely worth a read--a "task" to place on top of everyone's "to-do list."

As I read the article, two points stuck with me the most.  First, Peterson coins a term that has now become part of my everyday vocabulary called "errand paralysis."  She describes it as the inability to accomplish certain items on her to-do list because they "are seemingly high-effort, low reward tasks" that "paralyzed" her.  The items would keep on "rolling over [from] one week to the next" causing ultimately a feeling of anxiety and shame.  A light bulb went off.  (In fact, I shared this part of the article with a few of my coworkers, and they nodded in agreement, too.)  A big mental drain in my life stems from the feeling of unaccomplishment--a feeling of never being able to mark off all the items on my to-do list.  The same "less important" items keep being pushed off, and they collect and fester.  Instead of rewarding myself for what I did accomplish that week, month, year, I instead, zone in on what I didn't do, feeling ineffective and defeated.

Later in the article, Anne Helen Peterson, speaks about a cartoon called "You Should've Asked," created by a French, feminist comic known as Emma.  In the cartoon, Emma refers to mothers as "household management project leaders," and she goes on to show how labor burnout is just as much from being a homemaker as it is from working a full-time job.  (If you're managing both, then you have twice "the mental load.")  Peterson so eloquently and so profoundly describes the role of household management project leader as this:

They're ultimately responsible for the health of the family, the upkeep of the home and their own bodies, maintaining a sex life, cultivating an emotional bond with their children, overseeing aging  parents' care, making sure bills are paid and neighbors are greeted and someone's home for a service call and holiday cards get in the mail and vacations are planned six months in advance and airline miles aren't expiring and the dog's getting exercised (Peterson, 2019, para. 56) 

After I read this, I ended my personal shaming.  You see, it's difficult for me to admit to the fact that my house is a mess most of the time; it's difficult for me to admit that I don't cook/prepare meals; it's difficult for me to admit that on many days during the workweek, I come home in an unconscious state, simply unable to make conversation or process things on my to-do list, like help Lewie with homework, go through mail, or even work on getting prepared for the next day.  Sometime I nap first and get started on it around 8 or 9 p.m.  Other times, I promise myself I'll wake up early in the morning to try and get it all done.  Little Lewie has learned the routine by now:  Mommy is energetic, fun, and emotionally available in the mornings.  At night, well, you take what you can get.

 I'd like to change all this.  For years, I've told myself that this will change someday.  But, the reality is this:  As long as I work full-time and come home at 6, 7, or 8 p.m. at night, I will be tired and pretty much unavailable.   I've thought about changing careers, and once upon a time, I did stay home with Little Lewie,  Once upon a time, I also worked part-time instead of full-time.  The outcome, however, was almost the same.  It wasn't just the job work but what Emma calls "the mental load" that makes me exhausted.  Unless I chose not to be a Household Management Project Manager, I was still going to have this endless to-do list.  Maybe with more time available, more items would get checked off the list, but then again, maybe I'd still be adding on more items now to compensate for the money I wasn't bringing home.  After all, money is what allows us to plan our great trips, to sign up Lewie for computer camp and outdoor adventures, and to, quite honestly, pay our bills without constant worry and anxiety--the reason why I went back to work full-time in the first place. For me, working full-time at a college also means that when Lewie turns 18, he should be able to attend tuition free. So, if some of my burnout didn't come from work, then, surely, it would come from worrying about how we would get ahead of the bills, the student loans, and the credit card debt.  Either way, "the mental load" would remain.

"How Millennials Became the Burnout Generation" ended up being a savior to my self-esteem.  It made me realize that no matter how glamorous people's lives appear to be in blogs, Facebook, Instagram, and the like, it's really "make-believe."  None of us are perfect 100% of the time, and most of us suffer from some type of "errand paralysis."  We all have items on our to-do list that don't get checked off.  The real answer is to not let those items get in the way of living life.  At least for me, it's to not base my self-worth off of completing my next task.

The non-stop items will always be there (unless I choose to live off the grid in some remote place undisturbed by society).  So, the only thing that can change is my attitude.  Do I blame myself every time I don't accomplish a task, or do I reward myself every time I do complete one?  Do I go into resentment mode when I wake up to a messy house, or do I remind myself that the house is messy because we just had an eventful family weekend that took priority over our weekend errands.  In the end, it's okay.  Things will get done, and no one will ever remember what I accomplished.  What they'll remember is the time I spent with them.  Now, where's that to-do list?  Errand 1: Stop Beating Myself Up.

My First Days Away from Little Guy....

Since Lewie was born, I've been so fortunate to be with him every single day.  Granted, there are days when I come home late from work at 8 or 9 o'clock, but even on those days, I get to greet my little guy in the morning and give him kisses at night (even if he's already fast asleep).

Reuniting with my little guy after a long four days.

Last week was different.  For the first time since Lewie was born, I was scheduled to go away to Poughkeepsie New York for MBTI (Myers-Briggs Type Indicator) training that would be for four full days.  The idea of becoming an MBTI Certified Trainer made me excited, but I was terrified that I would be leaving my little guy for almost a week.  Would he be able to sleep okay without me?  What if he thought I abandoned him?

My husband and I decided the training was not too far away, and so we made the pact that if Lewie was having a difficult time, my husband would bring him up to Poughkeepsie in the middle of the week to see me.  Then, a colleague of mine from work gave me an even better idea:

"When I had to leave my son for work trips, I would buy him little gifts and hide them throughout the house.  Each night that I was away, I would call him and give him clues on how to find his first gift.  It became a little game between us, and the best part is that he was so excited about finding his presents that he didn't miss me."

My friend from work was right!  I bought Lewie three little gifts for the three nights I would be away from home and wrapped them.  Then, the night before I left, I took care to hide them in safe spots throughout the house--one in the living room, one in the kitchen, and one in the office/play room.  I told Lewie what I was doing, and so he was so excited to get my call the first night I was away from home:  "Mommy, do you think you can give me a clue?" he asked with excitement!

We'd play "hot and cold" over the phone until he found his first gift.  Then, the next night and the next night would be the same thing.  I would call in the morning too, and my son would ask if I could help him find his gift in the morning.  "Nope," I said, "you have to wait until tonight."

In case you are wondering, the three little gifts I bought Lewie were a bubble flashlight, a train jigsaw puzzle, and a Toby Trackmaster train.  They were worth every scent.  The "game" kept both Lewie and I so excited that neither one of us had a chance to shed any tears, and the toys themselves gave Lewie something new to play with to keep his mind occupied.

The good news is that I don't anticipate going to another training like this in a while.  I'll admit that I did enjoy having a few days to myself to break the normal routine, but by the forth day, I couldn't wait to be home!

I Lead a Double Life

Oh, I know the title of my post sounds intriguing (maybe even a tad scandalous)...like I have some sort of clandestine relationship on the side. But quite honestly, nothing could be further from the truth. 

You see, I lead a double life because I split my time every day of the week.  (Working moms know this feeling all too well.)  Everyday, I must divide my time between being a mom and wife and being a full-time administrator at a small Catholic College.  While I'd like to say that I at least have my weekends to myself and my lovely family, nothing could be further from the truth.  On weekends, I must go to New Student Orientations, Accepted Student Receptions, Open-Houses, or any other college event, which requires my presence;  I must answer emails that never stop (day or evening), and I must offer feedback on essays, cover letters, resumes, and all sorts of other requests that come my way...

In 2008, after the birth of my son, I resigned from this first life.  I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom and dedicate my precious time to my family.  I wanted, in essence, to have one life.

This one life, however, would be short-lived after my husband started battling an illness, which would test our emotional and financial well-being.  In 2009, I started working several part-time jobs, and in 2013 (just last year), I had to move back to the working world on a full-time basis.

I know many working moms that love having a double life; they enjoy their financial freedom, and they love feeling productive both in and outside of the home.  For me, however, finding the balance between my worlds of family and work remains to be a struggle, and I often find myself feeling, quite honestly, split down the middle.

On the one hand, my current position, Director of Career Services, gives me great satisfaction.  I enjoy helping students learn about themselves, gain confidence, and find employment.  I enjoy organizing and running events, such as career fairs because their success provides me with a sense of fulfillment and accomplishment.  In essence, I can be proud of myself.

Last week I executed our first career fair at the college in many years.  It was fun to pose with one of our
Connecticut State Troopers.

 On the other hand, splitting my time also gives me feelings of remorse, regret, worry, guilt, and stress.  I look at my son, who is now five years-old, and wonder where the time went!  I feel guilty when I come home exhausted day after day with little time for family dinner, playtime, or bedtime stories.  I feel sad when I can't offer my full undivided attention in the mornings because I'm too busy checking calendars, scheduling appointments, and answering last-minute emails.  

Plenty of working parents tell me that Lewie will grow up just fine...that he will learn how to have a strong work ethic from watching me and his Daddy...and that daycare/preschool provides him with the socialization he needs to be around other children his own age. 

This maybe so..., BUT I'm not sure if I'll be just fine.  At this moment, I already have regrets.  My spirit is saddened to know that time is fleeting, and one day these precious moments with my little boy won't be there.  Will I be okay with the missed opportunities of helping him with his homework or bringing him to the park?  Will I be okay with the missed opportunities to read him bedtime stories or play chase with him early in the morning?  My heart right now says no. 

Field Trip - A Small, But Meaningful Victory for Mommy

I won't lie.  Working full-time stinks.  Only a few short months ago, I had the chance to work three days a week and spend the other two with my son.  It was perfect.   I could earn some money to help pay for household expenses, spend valuable time with Lewie, and find some hours in-between for myself and my own well-being.

Working full-time, for me, has changed everything.  I have less time for Lewie, less time for myself, less time to clean the house, and just less time in general.  Everything has turned into a very tightly wound schedule--one that can unwind at a moment's notice if one detail falls out of sync.  Doctors appointments are strategically planned, personal days are requested months in advance, and weekly chores are prioritized on a level of 1 through 10.  Grocery shopping, of course, gets a # 1 rating; whereas, mopping the floors is a # 10.  (Mopping the floors never happens because I never have time to move past level # 5.) 

I find that with this type of schedule, I have to start rewarding myself for small victories.  Yay, I was able to put up Halloween decorations a week before the holiday, or yay, I was able to squeeze in a quick walk during my lunch hour at work!

This week's small victory was being able to go on my son's field trip.  After rearranging appointments at work and promising to make up my time by staying late during other nights of the week, I was able to spend three glorious hours with my son and his teachers and classmates. 

You see, ever since I started working full-time, Lewie has felt the effects of Mommy not being around as much.  As I drop him off from school, he usually begins his chorus of requests...

"Mommy can you stay at school today to read us a book?"

"Mommy, I wish you can work here."

"Mommy, can you pick me up early?  Can you pick me up after lunch time?"

The requests go on and on, and the mommy guilt presses on me like carrying a 350 pound bag of sand on my shoulders.  I know I'm not unique; many moms have to work and trade in treasured moments with their kids for banal hours with irritating coworkers and demanding customers.   I know I will eventually adjust...he will eventually adjust.  We're just not there yet.

So, in the meantime, I'm happy to share these prized pictures of Lewie's field trip.  It was a memorable day because it was a day where once...just once...I could say "yes" to one of Lewie's tender requests.  "Yes Lewie, I can stay with you at school today, and yes we will be able to have fun together." 

Lewie, me, and his little class on the hayride.  (Lewie found an interesting piece of hay...)

My little boy and I.  (Wish he was smiling...oh well.)

The view (right from over my little boy's head).

Cows coming toward us.  Evidently, the thrill of this hayride is that the cows get to eat...

Right from our wagon...  That's one of little Lewie's classmates feeding them.

Lunch!

Lewie preferred to watch the cows eat instead of feeding them himself.

Miss Nicole writing Lewie's name on his pumpkin.

Om my...what is Dennis the Menace up to now...?

Lewie's little Kokopelli preschool class.  They were all angels.  Honestly.

Driving through the muck to get back.

We were seriously going through two feet of water... I won't lie; I was nervous we were going to get stuck!

Made it!  Whew!

Goodbye Schreiber's Farm!  Time to return to our van.

First Day of Daycare (The Tale of Running Mascara)

Yesterday was my little boy's first official day of daycare. I have to be thankful that I've had as much precious time as I did to stay with him for most of his two years of life, but this year, with the increased burden of new credit card bills and unexpected expenses, I had to add additional hours to my schedule and secure new adjunct positions to teach a few more courses. (Ironically, I added one additional course just to cover the expense of daycare--Ugh!)

Instruments in Lewie's Toddler Room for Music and Movement Hour

I'm sorry to say that the working mommy guilt reached an all-time high today. As my husband and I brought Lil' Lew to his special toddler room at the college we both work at, we greeted his new teachers and other parents with pleasant smiles but watery eyes. Of course, my eyes only blurred more as we unloaded the car.

"Okay is everything all here? We have our large box of diapers, a tub of wipes, bed sheets, his favorite blanket, his striped blue and white tiger, and extra sets of clothes. Oh, and here's today's lunch with our first check to cover the month of September."

Looking at all the bags and boxes, I felt like I was preparing more for a camping trip or a sleep-over party, than daycare. It felt surreal--like my little boy was moving away from home. The teachers helped us put everything in their rightful place and tried to soothe Lil' Lewie who was now crying because we shut the door behind him, and he realized that he wasn't allowed to escape.

I brought my camera thinking I would capture the moment and the essence of his big day. To me, it was like his first official day of school since we were meeting all of his teachers and classmates for the very first time. Unfortunately, I never had a moment to compose myself to take his picture, and my little boy never stopped crying as long as I was there. After everything was stored in its rightful place, my husband and I were encouraged to keep our goodbyes short and sweet. We both gave him a hug and kiss, and we left the room with drooped heads--my husband expressionless and me sobbing.

As we walked down the hallway further and further away from the toddler room, Lil' Lewie could still be heard screaming in the background. "How could I do this? How could I leave him and let him think that mommy and daddy have abandoned him?" As the thoughts rushed through my head, my heart sunk into a bottomless pit. My husband gave me a hug, which only triggered me to cry harder and smudge more mascara--so much for getting a special mommy and me photo today.

Three hours later, my husband and I picked up Lil' Lewie. Normally, he would be going to daycare for a full day, but we decided to start him off slowly. Before rushing into the room to give him a big hug, the nurse recommended that we go into the observation room (nicknamed the "crying room") to watch our little boy in action. With a huge window that only looks like a mirror to little Lewie, the observation room let my husband and me watch him without being detected.

"There he is!" I exclaimed, noticing my little boy sitting next to one of the teachers with his "blankie" on his lap.

The lights were off in the room as the teachers were trying to prepare the eight toddlers for naptime. Lil" Lewie looked like he might be winding down for a nap too, but then, getting a quick burst of energy, he got up, ran, and squealed like our happy little boy.

"Oh, I so needed to see that," I said with more tears, confirming the "crying room" nickname.

"Yeah, I came here an hour ago, and he was having fun. He was playing with a pair of sunglasses and talking to himself," my husband replied.  (It was great that both our offices at the college are within walking distance of the daycare.)

To my delight, the teachers told us that Lil' Lewie did great. He made some of the other kids laugh, and he entertained himself with their toy telephone and bead maze. They gave me a cute little "report card" to take home and then opened the toddler room door to let us greet him.

I was glad my husband and I had the opportunity to watch him smile and play from the observation room. It was enough validation for me to realize that he'd be okay without us and perhaps...(gulp)...even enjoy some time away.