PWP, Part Deux

I'm now entering the 8th week of my solo-parenting adventure. (yippee!). I haven't been sure if I'd make it at various points but I have, The Buddy is still alive, and W and I are still holding hands. We may be passed out, exhausted at the dinner table while we're doing it, but I still call it success!

 

Now that I consider myself a war-hardened veteran, I can offer a few more tricks I've learned in the trenches:

 

#1. Don't start potty training in earnest when one partner is away. In this case, one truly is the loneliest number. You'll spend the week (or whatever your solo interval may be), frustrated, disgusted and repulsed, trying to keep your floors, upholstery and self, dry and poop-free--and your partner, bless them, will not get it. Not because they don't care or aren't invested in the success of this venture, but because they haven't developed the hard, outer shell that you have from all the pee puddles and poop atrocities you've weathered. Nor have they spent hours watching the kid's every move (think guerilla reconnaisance, complete w/camo face paint) getting in tune with what constitutes the kid's "poop face." When they come home, you'll spend as much time training them as you do the toddler. I almost murdered W the time he innocently suggested we put The Bud in a diaper to nap because it would be easier cleanup if he wet the bed. Yeah. And why don't we just undo all the effort I've put in the last two weeks, so you don't have to change one sheet. I've changed all the sheets, buddy. Don't you dare put him in a diaper! Needless to say, he never made that mistake again. It's exhausting and if we hadn't been under the gun to get The Buddy trained by the 1st of August, I never would've attempted it alone.

 

#2. You can't do all the things. A weekend is only two days long. In our case, Friday or Saturday (or both) will most likely include a gig. Somewhere in there, we have to find time to do house chores, make all our meals for the week, and Sunday is usually packed with church stuff from 7:30 am to 1 pm and we're not even Pentecostal. Maybe we'll sleep and eat in there sometimes, too. For the first few weeks, I planned and fretted over family time and the need to "do something" so I could feel like we were having quality time together. It wore us all out, emotionally and physically. The point of quality time is to make the most of the opportunities you have, not to make the most opportunities, especially when we've got so much other stuff going on. It's better for everyone that I've figured out the difference.

 

#3. If your situation allows, do all of your cooking for the week at once. I've been doing it for 7 weeks and I might even keep it up after W comes home for good, it's been so helpful. I spend 3 hours making 3 bulk meals--one crockpot, one oven and one stove top--then I let them cool, pack them in single-meal servings and refrigerate or freeze. The only thing I prepare at meal times during the week is a veggie, a salad, fruit or dessert. Dinner is on the table 20 minutes after The Buddy and I get home (the length of one cartoon) and clean up is a cinch.

 

If that plan doesn't work for you, tweak it as you see fit. Cook an extra couple servings of your favorite meals for a week and freeze them for quick dinners the following week. If you don't care for leftovers, make three meals, then plan a couple of slough meals you don't have to cook, like frozen pizza or takeout if it's in your budget. Try a food swap with a couple other busy friends. Each of you makes a double batch of one easy to freeze meal each week and swaps what you've made with the other two. One set of ingredients, one cooking event, and you get three meals! Or, invest in a crockpot with a timer and start researching yummy meals that require 15 minutes or less of prep, and virtually cook themselves. Food.com has a great section of tried-and-true crock pot meals that you can check out. We try to eat almost completely unprocessed whole-food meals and I've never struggled to find yummy recipes that we all love on there. Just type in the ingredients you want to use and go!

 

#4. Take people up on it when they offer to help you. I struggle with this one, not entirely because I'm a control freak who doesn't like looking needy. I also tend to have tunnel vision when I'm worn out. When I'm running on fumes and someone offers to lend a hand, I can't imagine that they wouldn't feel as weighted down by whatever part of my burden they've offered to lift, as I do. Truly, I don't want to make someone else's life harder in order to get my breather. What I fail to understand in those moments is that those Good Samaritans' resources aren't tapped out like mine are. That's why they can help. Chasing after my 3 year old for an hour, getting the oil changed in my car or doing a load of my laundry (hint, hint) won't affect them the same way it does me when I'm trying to do all those things at once.

 

Also note: your partner counts as a helper, too. It may seem easier to do it yourself than to explain to them what needs to be done and I get that, but truly, it's not. Would you rather be passively pissed at the Love of Your Life because (s)he is watching TV, blissfully unaware that you're running around taking care of the to-do list in your head, or spend the extra 20 seconds to share that list with them so everything gets done and you're not the only one doing it? You're thinking, it's the principle of the thing, Leida! They see all the stuff there is to do, why should I have to dictate it to them? You may be right, but that ain't gonna help you rest any sooner or make you like your partner any better. I've discovered that W prioritizes rest better than I do (*cough*he's lazy*cough*), but that he is happy to help, if asked. So, I ask. Principles can wait til I'm sitting down, sipping my first glass of wine.

 

And finally, #5. Take a day off, if you can. This seems like a no-brainer, so I must have no brain because it just occurred to me this week. I have ample vacation days from work, so it's totally ok to take days off in the middle of a work week, send The Bud to daycare and enjoy a Me Day every once in a while. Yes, I'm talking to you. And to me. To all of us who are running on fumes and think vacation days are only for projectile vomiting. Rest is so important, people and we need it! My goal is to get a Me Day scheduled this week.

 

Who's with me???

Parents Without Partners

I've been parenting alone for 93 hrs and 47 minutes. Not that I'm counting or anything.

 

My partner in parenting crimes and in this crazy, mixed-up life, the dazzling Mr W, is spending the bulk of next three months in the southland, doing an internship at a reputable studio in Music City. He's living out of duffle bags, pushing buttons, faders and stuff on sound boards, talking about music with strangers, living off bologna sandwiches (as if he would) and beer (he'd try)...living his dream, basically. On weekdays, back here in the 'Lou, the Buddy and I hold it down, and while I feel I'm up for the challenge, it must be said:

 

The short guy is not pulling his weight, no matter how many cookies he's willing to pull out of the pantry all by himself.

 

Sure, I've been alone with this kid before, many times. You don't co-parent with a career musician without doing a lot of parental heavy lifting on nights and weekends. That said, you never truly know how many holes someone fills in your daily life until they aren't there. That man fills a whole lotta holes. I'm sure every parent in the world out there can identify with me on this, in some way. Your partners travel a lot, have jobs that require a lot of their attention during the kids' awake time, they're shift workers, you're the nine-to-fiver and your partner works nights/weekends so a lot of the kid shuffling falls to you, or you're a single parent. Or maybe your significant other managed to score a guys'/girls' weekend in the Tetons before you had a chance to get your schedule conflict on the calendar first. Whatever the reason you're alone with these little people, if you're like me, you could use a survival tip here and there.

 

There are a few things I've already learned that might help me make it through this with my sanity intact, and since there's a snowball's chance in hell I'll remember them if I don't write them down, I submit to you, dear readers, the following list. If any of it manages to help you, too, I will be shocked. I'll also be happy for you, so don't be shy. Feel free to tell me about it in the comments section so we can both be encouraged. I'd also love to hear what other parents in the trenches are doing that works, so leave those comments as well.

 

In this list, I will be talking about my kid, The Buddy, but feel free to insert your own ankle-biter's nome de plume in its place. You're probably confused enough as it is.

 

1) When the alarm goes off at 5:30 am, get up. Do not believe yourself when yourself says you'll get up in 5 min. You won't. You'll end up sleeping 'til 6:15 when The Buddy wakes up, and we all know that's when the Toddler Time Suck kicks in. Everything slows down to half speed and no transition is made without a tantrum to round it out. You need to be showered, dressed and pouring the cereal by the time he wakes up, otherwise your morning is toast.

 

2) Wear the first outfit you put on. You've worn it many times before and yes, it still looks fine. You don't have time to "feel fat in this."

 

3) Always pack up what you will need for the next day before you sit down after putting The Buddy to bed. Put whatever will be safe and will not go bad in the car at night. If you don't, you will fall asleep where you sit and stumble to bed at 3 am, having accomplished nothing. It'll take that much longer to get out of the house in the morning because all your stuff is still scattered where you dropped it, between the front door and the bathroom, which was your first stop when you got home last night. I know...all you really want to do is sit down with a [insert drink] to watch/read [insert show/book], but the pain of working 10 more minutes now is much less than cramming in 10 more minutes of painful prep in the morning. Trust me.

 

4) When in doubt, phone it in. Feeding him fish sticks, frozen pizza, peanut butter waffles or chicken nuggets is not child abuse. Child abuse is shoving the kid in a drawer so you can't hear him whine and beg for food while you spend an hour making a macrobiotic meal from free range ingredients after a long day. So is sitting him on the curb with a sign that says, 'Free to a Good Home,' after he doesn't eat said meal.

 

5) As long as he's still getting his butt wiped at diaper changes, you wash his hands after play and before meals, and he didn't dive bomb any mud puddles or dog poo piles, 2 baths a week is plenty. Any more than that and you're adding unnecessary stress to your life and there's nothing I can do to help you.

 

6) Take out the trash/empty the dishwasher only when required by necessity and/or public code.

 

7) In spite of how you feel, singing the Transformers: Rescue Bots theme song or 5 Little Ducks six thousand times between daycare and home each night will not make you go insane. The Rescue Bots song is actually quite catchy and the way he sings along, dancing and making hand gestures will make you long for him to stay a joyful, little boy forever.

 

8) Exercise. Even if it's just a walk to the corner and back, get outside where the walls can't close in on you both. It's good for you. Go for a run twice a week. He hates the jogger, but you really need this, so push past his tantrum, shove him in that stroller and get out there! And stop forgetting the stroller on the front porch at night. It's a safe neighborhood, but if it's stolen, you were asking for it.

 

9) Please make sure to plug in the damned iPad and Kindle at night. He doesn't care that the battery is dead and he will not stop whining "it's not working!" until you bring either/both of them back to life. What's in it for you? Those two tablets are your ticket to 5 minutes alone in the bathroom.

 

10) Yesterday, you locked your keys in your car, distracted by a battle of wills with The Buddy when you were dropping him off at daycare. It was the straw that broke the camel's back on an already trying morning. You were an hour and a half late for work. You ate takeout for both breakfast and lunch. You were mean in your head to the locksmith guy because he talked your ear off when all you wanted him to do was open the car DOOR already, so you could leave! Thinking back, it sounded like he'd had a rough morning, too. Shake it off. Next time something like this happens (it will), keep this in mind: you have insurance. Roadside assistance took care of it in 20 seconds (plus an hour wait) and you weren't charged anything. Your daycare provider is a jewel. She and her husband were easy to hang out with and nice to you. You got a hug from The Buddy every 5 minutes because having you at daycare was a treat for him. He gave you a big kiss when you left--he must've forgiven you for not letting him take the iPad with him. Also while you waited, a little girl sang The Beatles' "Here Comes the Sun," to you. Your boss and coworkers are awesome. Everybody understands that life happens sometimes and nobody made you feel bad about it happening to you.

11) You can do this. You will not die. Alright, bring 'em in. 1, 2, 3...GO TEAM! 

The Food Wars

I am currently elbow-deep in a death match with a two year old over dinner, which pretty much means every night between 6 and 7, I have the prospect of hard work and frustration, with no chance of a positive return on my investment.

I'm lovin' them odds.

Tonight, my patience for the IF/THEN game ("If you eat a bite, you'll get a drink of milk!") wore thin quickly. Instead, he's watching Yo, Gabba Gabba on the Kindle in my bed while I catch up on my blogging.

I don't intend to harbor even a second of guilt over this. We're both happy right now and nobody's screaming or crying. Least of all, Mama.

Deal with it.

Tonight, We Spun Tupperware

I wage a near-daily battle with mommy guilt.

I have to work to support us and I'm glad to do it. I'm also grateful that I have skills that someone is willing to pay me to use. A lot of people can't say that these days. But even considering that, it bugs me that I don't get much quality time with my boy during the week and that our weekends are swallowed up with errands and chores I couldn't accomplish during the week. And the time we do have (about 3 hrs a night between pickup and bedtime) is fraught with land mines.

Both of us hand it all out during the day--him with play and me with work--so by the time we're together, neither of us is at our best, to say the least. He's tired and crabby, I'm tired and crabby. And, I'm in a hurry (Ever tried to rush a toddler? How 'bout a crabby one? Yeah. Super fun). Because it takes the better part of an hour to get home at night and I KNOW he's going to whine and crab for his dinner until it's served, I get it started right away, leaving him to entertain himself as well as he can. I won't mention his hunger is because of his stubborn refusal to eat anything all day but crackers and Nilla Wafers at daycare. That's how generous a mother I am.

Anyway, we sit down to eat. Well, I eat. He makes a mess with some chewing and interjections of "nummy!" or, "no!" thrown in there. Then there's time for a bit of rough housing, a bath depending on the day of the week, a book, a prayer and bed. This is the Cliff's Notes version of the story. The unabridged version also describes tantrums, head bumps, diaper wars, messes and broken stuff (always mine). In my effort to take care of him, I might only make eye contact with him 4 or 5 times before I put him to bed. Even typing that crushes me.

I walk a fine line. On one side, keeping to a rigid schedule with him because every parent I meet, parenting book I read and motherly instinct I have tells me that structure and consistency give a child a feeling of safety and security, two things I desperately want to provide for him. Possibly because they're the only things I can afford. On the other side, giving in to the urge to let it all go, either from exhaustion or a simple desire not to plan every, blessed thing. I'm sure neither of those is good for us, nor are they sustainable over the long haul, so I'm working on finding some semblance of a middle ground.

Sometimes, though, through the white noise of all my struggles with balancing work and parenthood, there are moments of clarity. Moments where it feels like the stars align and I get it right. Like tonight, for example. Most of the time when I'm making dinner, Miles plays around my feet. He doesn't mind independent play as long as we're in the same room. I kind of like it, too. He mills around the room, moving all the kitchen-y things he's allowed to play with from place to place. He babbles, sings the ABC song, jumps in circles, dances and occasionally wraps his arms around my knees for a cuddle and a smile. He also empties the Tupperware cabinet. Nobody says Tupperware, anymore, they use Rubbermaid, you say? I say, get your own blog post. Tupperware is like Kleenex to me. It covers all plastic storage containers and also has the added benefit of dating me. But I digress. Tonight, I made a casserole, so after dinner prep, I had 15 minutes of oven time to kill. I looked down to find Miles spinning plastic bowls on the floor. With a flip of the wrist, he gets upwards of 30 minutes of cheap entertainment. He loves spinning things; especially circular things--bowls, lids, coasters--he's spun 'em all. I decided to join him. I didn't think he'd pay me much attention since he can be so focused on the task, but it turns out he was thrilled to have me--as a jungle gym, as an obstacle to dance around, a fellow bowl spinner and best of all, a lap to crawl into for a cuddle. He put down those bowls to snuggle and to play Name-That-Feature on mama's face. When we got to cheeks, he cupped mine with his chubby little paws, looked closely into my eyes, babbled something I couldn't understand and planted two, sweet kisses on my mouth.

I swear to God, that kid knows how hard I'm trying.