DC Metro Moms

Mama bear

I did not receive a manual on how to mother when I popped that first baby out of my body.  I was given several reference books on how to breastfeed, baby sleep, toddler tantrums, and other specific aspects of taking care of a child.  However, no single guidebook on the everyday trials and tribulations of raising a child was provided.  Fortunately, there are times when natural instinct helps me navigate this mothering gig.

Recently, I had been at a weekday function at our church.  My four year old daughter Cupcake had been in the childcare setting provided during the meeting.  On the way home, Cupcake announced to me, "Mommy, someone was mean to me today."

“Oh?  What happened?  Who was it?”  I inquired casually.
Mama Bear lifted her head, observing carefully, alerted to possible harm approaching her Little One.

Stage fright

The kindergarten classes at Bito’s elementary school put on a musical recently. I knew Bito had been practicing for it -- I caught him humming the song his class was to sing.  I also knew that there was a strong possibility that Bito would not end up performing with his class at all.

BC (Before Children), I watched video recordings of friends’ children singing, dancing, and acting.  I imagined someday being in the audience as my own kids performed.  I envisioned being a proud parent as my offspring belted out off-key renditions of songs or attempted to play an instrument.  I looked forward to watching my friends squirm as I invited them to view every last minute of the videos I would make at the recitals.

Once Bito began preschool, I eagerly anticipated the first concert.  He practiced for a month, singing all the songs and doing the motions that accompanied the music.  He had it down pat.  On the morning of the recital, my body began signaling it was ready to expel the alien occupying my womb.  I ignored the contractions as I finished getting ready.  I did not even call my midwife until we reached the preschool and had settled into our seats.  I was determined to see my eldest in his first concert if it meant a mad, movie-like drive to the hospital afterwards!

Teacher Appreciation

In 2004, I put down my chalk after spending a decade as a public school educator.  The following five years found me in a school only to vote each Election Day.  Then Bito started kindergarten last fall, and I have become involved in public school education once again.  Only this time, I'm on the other side of the desk.  The view is quite different over here.

I volunteer at the school as much as possible in Bito's classroom.  I enjoy helping out the teacher, and I get the added benefit of making myself visible to Bito (he knows I'm watching him!).  Being in the building reminds me of the familiar routines that I grew up with as a student, and then experienced as a teacher.  Seeing the class in action as I quietly change bulletin boards or prepare crafts for the students, I have an even greater respect for the teachers.   

Teacher Appreciation Week is next week, and I'm finding myself wondering how to best to thank Bito's teacher.  She is, without a doubt, a master teacher--having started her career the same year I entered kindergarten!  We are very grateful to her for making Bito's first year of formal education a good one.  In many ways, big and small, she has ensured the right start for my son's education.  How can we possibly thank her for that?

Things people say

In an effort to avoid potentially embarrassing moments when out in public, I am working to create mouth filters for my kids.  You know, to attempt to stop word vomit.  That way, maybe Cupcake won't loudly announce, "Mommy!  Look at that big man with no hair on his head!" Not that that's how she would actually say it...just a slightly more PC translation.

Teaching the kids to watch their words is proving more difficult than I imagined. After all, we've been encouraging our kids' observations since they first began speaking.  We were so delighted with their baby gibberish statements that we'd exclaim, "That's right!  That is a blue truck.  Great job, BabyMuffin!"   And so they would continue making astute comments about the world around them.

The problem now, however, is that our kids don't have the social understanding that some things aren't meant to be said out loud.  We adults know that pointing out people around us who differ from the general population is taboo. At least most adults don't do this audibly enough for everyone around to hear.

Sleep...sweet sleep

When I had my first baby, I was shocked to discover my ability to make conversation devolved dramatically.  There were three topics that dominated:  how much the baby was eating or not eating, the contents of my baby's diapers, and the baby's sleep (or lack thereof). 

Fortunately, I've come to realize I was pretty normal as a new mom.  It seems many new mothers acquire the ability to focus on these three topics.  It makes sense, right?  New moms want their wee babe to be getting enough food.  And sleep.  Who can blame her concern over the baby's sleep?  If the baby sleeps, the mom is probably sleeping as well.  Sleep deprivation is no joke and is definitely no fun.

Happy wedding day!

Today is the first day same-sex couples can legally get married in Washington DC.  The District began issuing the new licenses for gay couples last Wednesday.  The Associated Press reported about 300 couples applied for licenses from Wednesday to Friday; almost all of those licenses were for couples of the same sex.

I have to confess: I am surprised that Washington DC jumped this hurdle and is now permitting same-sex unions!  I mean, DC may not be as stodgy and conservative as people initially think...but I certainly thought states on the Left Coast would legalize same-sex unions before DC would!  Instead, The District becomes the sixth place in this country, behind Connecticut, Iowa, Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Vermont, to legalize gay marriage.

Done being Mommy.

I need some time alone every day.  I crave that time alone, and have been known to become rather cantankerous when I don't get enough of it.  When I've been engaged in conversations for long periods of time, I feel my energy draining and my ability to interact deteriorates.  I've taken the Myers-Briggs test enough times to know that I am a classic introvert.  I am comfortable with that label.  It suits me fine.

My kids, however, exhibit extroverted tendencies at their young, tender ages.  While I realize their personalities are still developing and emerging, it would not surprise The Husband and me if they all grow up to be gregarious extroverts like their father. 

Needless to say, the introvert in me is zapped by the constant  People Time that defines my day as Mommy.  By the time The Husband gets home, I've had as much interaction as I can take.  I am Done.  Done with questions that mostly involve the word Why.  Done with requests for 337 snacks.  Done with distracting, re-directing, diverting, etc.  Done with Dora, Barbie, Tinker Toys, Legos, Curious George and every other single toy-game-book we have in the house.  Done with tantrums, sibling altercations and end-of-the-day whining.   I am Done with being Mommy.  Done.  Done.  Done.

RIP People Movers of IAD

I have always preferred Dulles International Airport above all other DC area airports.  Dulles is ten minutes from where I currently live; however, even when I was inside the Beltway, it was my airport of choice.  The Toll Road makes it easily accessible, the parking is ample, and the architecture of the main terminal is breathtaking on the horizon.

I even loved those Mobile Lounges, a.k.a. People Movers.  Journeys originating and ending at IAD included a free ride to and from the terminals where airplanes were parked.  Those lumbering behemoth vehicles criss-crossed the airport grounds, delivering passengers here and there.  Now those People Movers are going the way of the dodo, replaced by the sleek AeroTrain.  Last week, the AeroTrain became operational after 15 years of planning and construction.  The AeroTrain will undoubtedly make the transition from security check-in to aircraft boarding smoother, once the glitches get ironed out.

Snow day!

I consider myself a Washingtonian through and through.  The Husband knows that I do not have the ability desire to live farther north than where we are now because I am not a fan of cold weather.  The first time he dragged me to his hometown in the Midwest, it was NEGATIVE ELEVEN DEGREES FAHRENHEIT.  Yes, you read that right.  It was stupidly cold and I, the wuss of cold weather, did not handle it well.  The Husband assured me that that was much colder than normal, but I refused to believe him.  I told him it had to be true love if I was still willing to marry him despite knowing we'd travel annually to the place I dubbed Where Cold is Manufactured and Exported to the DC Area.

Still, I do love an occasional snow storm like the one we are currently experiencing.  I think it's the former school teacher in me; I get giddy with the anticipation of having a day off work due to snow!  I enjoy waking up to the silent white world, wrapping my hands around a hot mug of tea as I sit and stare out the window at gently falling snowflakes.  Later on, if I manage to shuck off my jammies, I might go outside to brush off my car and shovel a little snow, just to make it safe.  Then back inside for hot chocolate, a warm fuzzy blanket, a good book, and a nice cozy nap.

SAD

At the beginning of every autumn, I look forward to colorful trees, cooler weather, apple-picking, and Halloween and Thanksgiving.  I become giddy at the thought of one good snowfall--but only one, please.  However, every autumn also brings me to a period of mourning.  For summer...lazy days of sunshine...those days of soda and pretzels and beer...

It reaches a point where I withdraw into myself and find little to no happiness in things that normally I enjoy.  I sleep a lot.  I am sluggish and slow and moody and not myself.  All my normal activities become chores, and The Husband knows to allow me to have as much time with my bed as possible.  

Seasonal Affective Disorder.  Call it what you will--the winter blues, winter depression, whatever.  I have it, I suffer from it, it affects me.  For years, I refused to acknowledge its presence in my life, thinking it was all in my head and that it would go away if I pretended the symptoms weren't there.  However, there is no ignoring the symptoms that have persisted despite all my best efforts to stave them off.