Early to Bed, Early to Rise Is Not Making Me Healthy, Wealthy or Wise

(Alternative title: Benjamin Franklin Was A Fucking Liar)

I've been waking up at 5:30 every morning lately.

Five-Fucking-Thirty AM.

On purpose.

I don't know whether to be proud of myself or start looking for a good therapist.

Pretty sure I haven't been this tired since Hugmonkey looked like this. 

I know that a lot of you probably get up earlier. Or stay up later than my 11pm - ish bedtime AND get up earlier. You people are awesome. Because I would like a medal or a banner or something. 

(Aside for people who watch The Real Housewives of New York City: Remember when Aviva wanted a party and a banner because she'd ridden on the small plane to St.Barth's? And you kind of wanted to smack her? I am turning into Aviva.)

I'm getting up to write before anyone in the family gets up. And it's not even good writing, it's writing for the giant content corporation. But it's also cold, hard, cash paid into my PayPal account twice a week. 

I tell myself that any writing is good practice. I tell myself that I am living the dream by getting paid for my words. I tell myself that we need the money. But I feel like my other writing is suffering (for proof just look at previous posts) or non-existent. 

Not to mention that I fell asleep 30 seconds after stretching out to indulge in a little TV yesterday afternoon. 

I had planned to write while Hugmonkey was in preschool in the mornings. But I also have to work out in the mornings - though not at 5:30, I'm not tough enough for that - because otherwise I won't do it. So after getting everyone to school I exercise and run any necessary errands and then I've got like 20 minutes of writing time before I have to get Hugmonkey. 

That's what you're getting, those of you who are sweet enough to read this blog. The 20 minutes I sometimes get before getting Hugmonkey. Oh, and some Sunday mornings, depending on Lovebug's soccer schedule. 

I want to work on my local review site (which will be brutally honest and geared toward families) at night. I should work on that at night. And on Band Back Together stuff. And on fiction. Or at least on articles I want to write. 

But by the time I get the kids to bed all I really want to do is watch television and get sleepy. I can barely read after the kids go to bed, let alone write anything. Hence my extensive knowledge of The Real Housewives and my lack of creative output. 

How do you guys fit everything in? Can I use Kickstarter to fund a baby-sitter and/or a cleaning lady?  How do you go to bed before 11? What do you do after the kids go to bed? 

I Forgot About The Grocery Store

Something I didn't think about when I was planning our summer of relaxation (no camps, no lessons, no plans) was going to the grocery store. HugMonkey has been my grocery store buddy since he was born, but he's the only one. I have avoided taking all 3 of them to the store with me since Ironflower started preschool at 2 1/2. I mean, it happened, but it not regularly. Even if it meant going to my least favorite store while Ironflower was at dance class. I love them dearly, but they have a lot of energy. And Lovebug and Ironflower together have very kinetic energy.

But with my compulsion to shop at several different stores to get everything at the cheapest prices (which, admittedly, has waned somewhat this summer) and the fact that on Hot Guy's days off we're usually doing something as a family, there have been a lot of days where I had to take all 3 of them to the store.

It was easier when they were smaller. I won't say this about most things - just going to the park is a marathon when you have 3 kids under 5 - but at the grocery store, I miss them all being little.

Weren't they cute? 

I miss being able to strap them all into a cart. Sure, there were times when all 3 of them would be yelling or crying or whatever, but that I could ignore. Sprinting to the other side of the store? Not so much.

Even when they all stay by the cart, it's not much better. HugMonkey likes the car carts (and so does Lovebug, even though he wouldn't want me to tell his friends that), which are like the Hummers of grocery carts. Especially when you've got at least one other kid hanging onto the side. But they all switch positions frequently and of course they have to run in front of the cart when they do so. If I don't manage to run over at least one of them before the end of the summer I will have used up a lifetime supply of good luck.

Also, have I mentioned that my kids are loud? And talkative? And that they are in the midst of imaginary play at all times?

I'm surprised more people don't run for cover when we come charging down the grocery aisle.

It's gotten so bad that I've started to use the hours my parents watch the kids on Sunday afternoons just to go grocery shopping in peace. And this morning, when I knew I couldn't wait until Sunday? I got up early so I could go before Hot Guy went to work.

I cut my time by two-thirds. How do homeschoolers do it?

Generally, I've liked our flexible schedule this summer. The kids have actually driven me less crazy because I haven't had to hurry them anywhere. It made me think that if we ever did have to move and I had to homeschool the kids (our current district is so awesome that most other places would pale in comparison), I could totally handle it.

Except for the grocery shopping.

Why Yes, Parenthood Is the Toughest Job in the World

Recently, writer Meghan Daum from the Los Angeles Times challenged the idea that being a stay-at-home parent is the hardest job in the world. I was going to leave her a comment, as I thought it was an interesting perspective in the whole Ann Romney/Hilary Rosen debacle, but naturally the comments section is filled with nasty, name-calling trolls.

And it's possible my comment might have gotten a little long.

Before you start thinking I have time to read op-eds in random newspapers, my mom (and possibly my Dad, but he sends A LOT of articles) emailed me the article. In the article, Meghan (I mean no disrespect, we went to school together, even though she probably has no idea who I am now, I still can't imagine calling her "Ms. Daum" or whatever) lists some jobs that she suspects might be harder than being a stay-at-home parent, such as coal miner, President of the United States and teacher in an underfunded urban school district.

In a lot of ways, she's right. As a stay-at-home (or rather, stay-in-the-car) mom, I can wear yoga pants all day. I have no dress code, HR handbook or performance reviews. I have no boss. I can let some of my work, such as the laundry, slide for weeks. If I'm running late, people smile at me sympathetically - they don't dock my pay.

But I've also been a teacher in an underfunded urban school district. And while I appreciate that no one is telling me to radically alter my methods every year (as struggling school districts are wont to do), it's kinda tough to come up with your own methods all of the damn time. The challenge in being a stay-at-home parent - or honestly, any parent - is that it's ALL YOU, ALL THE TIME. There are no lesson plans, curriculum guides or experienced teachers handing you a stack of stuff to do the first week. There's no leaving at the end of the day. There's no "out-of-office" email response when your children need your help with something. There's no going to Hawaii or your ranch in Texas or wherever Presidents go to relax.

I mean, even if you go to Hawaii and don't bring your children with you, you are still their parent. You're still going to worry about them. You're still ultimately responsible for how they are cared for while you are gone. You're still the one who is going to fly home if they break their legs. Your heart is still otherwise engaged, even if you are drunk at a strip club in Las Vegas.

Even when they leave home and have jobs and kids of their own, you still worry about them. You are never, ever done with the job. You can be an ex-teacher, an ex-coal miner or a former President. . .but you can't be an ex- or former parent*.

And as the stay-at-home parent, even when you're hospitalized, you're still "working" by organizing and planning and worrying about the kids. You can be delirious with a fever (as happened last week when I had strep), but you've still gotta organize who's taking the kids where and whether the homework got done and take care of all the details that your working spouse doesn't even know about. Not only is the job never over, there aren't any sick or vacation days.

So Meghan, THAT'S why everyone calls it the hardest job in the world. It's not that my day is so tough, especially compared to the President's. It's that the President will be done with his (or her, that's gonna happen someday, right people?) job in a finite period of time. After 4 or 8 years, the responsibility is lifted. As for teachers and coal miners, they LEAVE work at the end of the day. The day may suck, but then they've got at least 12 hours where they are free. Not so with parenthood.

*Okay, there are circumstances where that happens, but they are rare and depressing and horrible and I don't want to write about them. 

Launderess, Nurse, Maid, Chauffeur, Housekeeper, Nanny,Valet . . . .But Not Cook

I don't cook. I'm not going to say I can't, because I can make grilled cheese sandwiches, pasta with a jar of sauce, hot dogs, frozen vegetables and blueberry muffins. But I really don't like cooking, which I believe would have disqualified me had I actually had to apply to be a stay-at-home mom. Last week when I went out to lunch with the (stay-at-home) moms from Ironflower's class I was totally silent when the discussions turned to what their husbands fed the children when they weren't around. The list included grilled cheese, hot dogs, pasta and calling for pizza. I hope no one noticed my blush.

Fortunately, my Hot Guy loves to cook. Unfortunately, he is not around all the time.

It's not that I need him for breakfast or even lunch. Toasting things is not beyond my ability, nor is assembling sandwiches and microwaving pasta. But when Hubby is not here for dinner, I feel a sense of panic. Surely a real mom would feed them real food and not grilled cheese sandwiches? Some moms actually serve those for lunch!

Since Hot Guy has been in his latest show (Hot Guy does many things but his first love is acting and he is performing in this show, - go see it if you live in the New York area, thanks) he has missed a lot of dinners. And I have felt enormous pressure to perform.

Last night, my children each received a plate of hummus, pita chips, baby carrots, grapes, watermelon, cheddar cheese slices and pita bread. While none of this required actual cooking, I was very proud of my beautiful plating of all four food groups. I felt worthy of the stay-at-home mom title. I felt good about what my children were eating.

Except that they hardly ate any of it. Lovebug ate grapes, watermelon and hummus. Ironflower ate grapes and a pita chip. And though they don't eat much more when I put out hot dogs and peas, I felt defeated.

I know all about the zillions of times a child must be presented with a food before s/he accepts it. But they like all the foods I presented. I know that toddlers aren't big eaters. But two grapes? It's like they know I don't cook or plate with any skill or style. It's like they've given up on me.

Not that they eat much more when Hot Guy cooks. But he's not supposed to be super-mommy, is he? He's already super-daddy for being the only real cook.

I give up. I'm buying Hamburger Helper the next time I'm at the store.

My New, Improved Answer

Sometimes, when people ask me what I do all day, I say "smoke crack." It embarrasses them and makes me giggle. (Okay, I only said it once, but I've been planning on saying it again). Cherann on Confessions a Former Bookworm calls it "the proverbial question." I once read a great detailed answer on My Mommy's Place (I can't remember where, but read Leslie anyway because she's really funny). And then someone asked Hot Guy what I did all day. He was flabbergasted - he gets to hear about ALL the things I do ALL DAY in great detail. He answered something about chasing toddlers.

When he mentioned the story to me, I told him my struggle with answering the question. So he suggested I write it out (it's the only way to get me to remember anything) and here we are.

Annoying Person: So, what do you DO all day?

Me: Well, of course I get up whenever I feel like it, as I never feel like listening to yelling or crying. Then I take a long, leisurely shower (point to dirty ponytail) and dress in designer clothing (gesture grandly at jeans and t-shirt). I eat a quiet, healthy breakfast (look at hips) while reading about current events (lift up bag of new children's books). The maid cleans the kitchen (point to self) and the nanny keeps the children entertained (point to self). Then I stroll to a nature preserve (point to playground and stroller) to reflect upon the complexities of the world (gesture towards yelling children). Sometimes I do some personal shopping (hold up bag of Goldfish) and I return home to do some culinary experimentation (hold up an Ironflower acceptable sandwich). Then, of course, the maid and the nanny take over so I can do some writing. Yes, I do a bit of writing - nothing, of course, that could occupy me all day every day. After the nanny (again, point to self) puts the children down for naps and the maid (again, point to self) does the day's cleaning activity, then I read a book. Yes, a book. I read books. That could occupy me all day every day too. When's the last time you read a book?

Do y'all think that's too snotty?

Pity Party

Someone said to me recently, "Well, I have a JOB."

This was in response to an attempt to make plans.

Of course I didn't respond the way I wanted, "You try to take care of Ironflower, Lovebug and Hot Guy while attempting to make money blogging and any other way that doesn't interfere with the children's outings, schedules and moods and that allows the house to be clean and organized enough to satisfy your Martha Stewart mother and THEN you can brag about your job."

The transition from working outside the home to working inside the home has been a challenge for me. I never thought I'd stay home. But around here, with the cost of quality daycare for toddlers, not to mention the years I'd have to sub just to get a classroom teaching job that I don't even want anymore, it makes sense for us. Most of the time I'm glad to spend enough time with my children so that they can drive me insane but I'm tired of being dismissed as lazy and/or stupid. I'm tired of friends and family members asking, "But what do you do all day?"

Look, I realize that I am lucky to be able to stay at home. But while I do take a break every day during nap time, I spend about twelve - fourteen hours everyday engaged in childcare, household or writing related activities. Lovebug is a very challenging child and his tantrums exhaust me to the point of tears at least twice a week. Ironflower needs constant stimulation. I've given up an extra hour of sleep so I can have time to exercise in the mornings.

When I was a teacher, I trained myself to let go of work issues on my drive home. I cherished my commute. Now there is no letting go. I keep a notebook by the bed so that when I wake up in the middle of the night with writing ideas and parenting strategies I can write them down. Even when Hot Guy or grandparents are watching the kids, I usually feel some sort of residual guilt and worry. I can't help it.

Not that this makes me different than any other mother out there, of course. But I'll be damned if I'm going to let one more person imply that his/her JOB is more important than all three of mine.

Mommy the Maid

That's the title of some mom's blog, "Mommy the Maid." I've never read it and I don't know the writer, so I don't mention it to inspire anyone to read. I mention it because the title scares me. If I were my maid, I would fire me.

I know that keeping the house clean and the laundry done goes with the whole stay-at-home mommy territory, but it's just not my thing. I mean, the laundry's always done (and usually put away), the dishes are done, the toilets cleaned and the floor is swept. But that's about it. I don't dust very often and no one in their right mind would eat off of my floors. All the mirrors should be Windexed. There's a lot of clutter. And I don't think I've ever cleaned the windows.

I scrubbed out the refrigerator last week. I was very proud of this accomplishment until I saw that the milk had leaked. I bitched at Hot Guy about it and for some reason he took offense. All I could think was, "Oh my Goddess, I have to clean it again?" I like tasks that can be completed and set aside for a while. It's why I only do laundry two days a week and why toy pick up doesn't happen until right before bed. I get a certain satisfaction out of being DONE.

That's probably why I'm not good at those little lifestyle changes that make diets so successful. I've switched to olive oil spread and low fat mayonnaise and I can't understand why I haven't lost thirty pounds. But I digress. Maybe if I did all the maid type stuff I would lose thirty pounds, I don't know. In fact, I doubt I'll ever know - there's no way I'll ever be able to describe myself as "Mommy the Maid".