First the good parts:

Came back to work full-time yesterday and morning routine went beautifully. Kids up early, husband packed lunches and fed them breakfast, childcare provider on time and connected wonderfully with baby Quinn, wonderfully warm welcome back at work complete with huge beautiful bouquet of flowers.

Day presented itself with many problems, as somewhat expected, as I am a psychologist (problem magnet by trade) and an administrator (also a problem magnet). Felt EXHAUSTED emotionally and physically by mid afternoon by new intensity of demands on brain and body and insomnia from anticipation of going back to work.

Cut to today: everyone oversleeps, husband needs to leave for work early so no breakfast/dressing/lunch help (did try to help with lunch but he bought wrong size/type of yogurt which resulted in tears and repacking whole thing), house a mess, running late, have yesterdays woes on my mind when I finally reach the elevator line at school and…

PEOPLE CUT IN LINE!! I’ve dragged my sleepy, rushed children to school somewhat on time and am waiting patiently when several students and parents form a “second line” and bust ahead of us. This isn’t Rite Aid where it clearly says form two lines and yet people still form one in an effort to go to whatever register opens up first. Then–we manage to cram on when a first floor colleague crams in at the last instant and then gets off on the SECOND FLOOR!!! I’m thinking she is a lazy, moron–will this attitude help me today??

I’ve already vented this ridiculous tirade to the first two unfortunate colleague friends I bumped into and interrupted. Lucky them. Note to self: nobody benefits from hostile venom spewed about stupid topic particularly first thing in the morning. Sorry to them. I’m kind of chuckling now though.

Mantra on the go: Lighten up. Smile. None of this is a big deal. At least I’m not going to jail for killing and dismembering family members and throwing them in the Hudson like some guy on NY1 today.

Have a good one. Diane

The other day I was sitting in my car in the school parking lot waiting for one of my children to be either retrieved or deposited. I forget which because most of my days are spent in a never-ending, dizzying loop between home and school. Since moving to the suburbs of Boston, this has become my past time – hovering like a stalker, eyeing the entrance, waiting for a child to finish an after school lesson, occupational therapy session, or some other enrichment program, which is actually strange, because I would classify myself and my children as “under-enrollers.” We prefer home. The time between these sessions is too short to accomplish anything like grocery shopping or laundry, so instead I sit in the car and force myself to read the dry psychological journals I intentionally avoid in favor of scrubbing floors or organizing mittens.

As I sat reading, I saw a father in a new black Mercedes dropping off his two sons. They grabbed their backpacks and got out of the car. Although I couldn’t hear what they were saying, it was clear something was amiss. The smaller of the two was shouting at the larger one. As he yelled, he walked toward the school quickly outpacing his older sibling until he caught up with friends and slipped into his clique. The older brother stood frozen near the car and suddenly burst into tears. Children passed him by staring blankly. Some laughed. My heart broke for him. I wanted to usher him into my car and administer emotional triage. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his father pulling away and made a split-second decision to dive for the car door. The car slammed on its brakes and the boy piled in. I imagined the sleekly groomed father already running late for work impatiently checking his blackberry. I wondered how he would take to his son’s unraveling and felt a pang of guilt remembering my own reaction toward my daughter in an eerily similar situation the day before. I had been neither patient, compassionate, nor modulated in my response. I was running late, she refused to get out of the car. I was frustrated that our separations seemed to have taken a developmental regression, and I used the verbal equivalent of pushing the ejection button.

But now, toward a complete stranger’s child, I felt what Buddhist’s call metta – unconditional, limitless, goodwill and love. Some scholars liken metta to the love a mother feels for her only child. So why was it so easy for me to feel metta for a child I didn’t know, but not for my own? Simple. This little boy wasn’t making me late, increasing my anxiety about whether he’d ever be autonomous, acting out a scene from a script we’d played over and over. He was just crying and I felt empathic toward him. As I watched the father and the son through the rearview window, I felt relief when the father bent over to kiss the boy’s head. The boy opened the door, dragged his sleeve across his nose one more time and waved good-bye to his dad. As I returned to my reading I made a mental note; that the next time one of my children needed compassion I would be mindful of moving beyond my own fears, restrictions, and knee-jerk reactions to summon the same metta for my own that comes so easily for others.

Despite what I’ve said about being ready to go back to work, today has been filled with moments of anxiety. Not one thing in particular–nothing I could attack and solve–just free-floating. However, I was flipping through the journal I’ve kept since Quinn’s birth and took pause when I read the following:

10/27/07 Maternity leave has been and is wonderful because: I cuddle with Quinn– I nurse him, nourish him, clean him, care for him. I rest and hang out with him (in bed, on the couch, in the park…). I go to yoga, the movies, out for lunch with him. I spend more time with Kayla and Nicholas too–taking them to and from school, talking; I reenergize, heal, replenish my stores of kindness, patience, love, creativity and energy. And clearly, I spent a lot of time navel gazing too.

Serenity now…xx Diane

If ever one wanted to make returning to work feel like a good thing, having 5 days and nights with all 3 children home, no school, no help, and not enough sleep is a great start. That is the situation I am currently coming off of. Genius timing on my boss’s part–I will eagerly arrive early and ready to work tomorrow.

Actually that’s just how I’m feeling at the moment. This break has been full of good times with my family–but I am feeling tired from lack of sleep and irritated at how much laundry, cleaning, shopping, and organizing needs to happen when I swear thats what I spend half my time doing. I’m also recognizing that my energy and spirits tend to peak each day around 6 am. I generally feel happy and am full of fabulous ideas at that hour–gotta figure out a way to capitalize on that.

Crying baby now. More soon…Diane

Today is a beautiful, cold autumn day in NYC. Through my window, I see a beautiful blue sky, billowy clouds and a myriad of jewel colored leaves blowing. Baby Quinn is napping and my older kids are off icesckating with my husband. It is quiet in my home and I feel at peace. I am aware of the stark contrast between yesterday’s mood and weather–both were bleaker and more turbulent. I am committed to not seeing myself as crazy though; I know frequently changing emotions and perspectives are part of the deal of being a new mother (and an old/experienced mother?). One of the main reasons for me reporting all this is to try to normalize it for other moms. I am not alone; you are not alone.

I have always been a big believer in fresh starts. It doesn’t take much for me to allow myself to start a new–a new day, a new month, a new phase of life or work—any of these times signal an opportunity for me to make a psychologial change if I want one. Small or big… Diane

Yikes.

I’ve been feeling reasonably good about my return to full-time work (outside the home). In preparation, I’ve put my work clothes in the front of my closet, bought some professional looking shoes, gotten my haircut, brows waxed, made arrangements for our prior nanny to return… I breathe, cuddle my baby, try to savor these moments. Despite these efforts, today I experienced some serious anxiety about whether I have the physical, mental and financial resources to handle the challenges that returning to work pose for me.

I’m a little overwhelmed by the idea that I’m suddenly losing 40 plus hours to my job outside my home, my family, my life as I’ve known it these past 3 months. That the nanny–while exceptionally loving, caring and responsible–will not be able to do all the things I do just the way I like them, that pumping breastmilk is going to be an ordeal, that I will get sucked back into office politics, that I’m going to miss my baby, that I won’t be able to swing work/dinner/nightime routine, that we’ll be spending a whole lot more money each week to pay for childcare with no new money coming in. Yikes.

When my older kids protested taking their vitamins today, I said they’d need them for strength to survive when we were on the streets. (What mom? nothing). I know I’m lacking perspective, and not focusing on the positive. I need to turn it around. Tomorrow.

Right now I am focusing on my breath and on this exact moment. And in this exact moment all is fine…Diane

I planned, shopped, chopped, smashed, mashed, baked, roasted, ate, drank, and gave thanks galore. A rather splendid holiday as holidays go and a most excellent way for my children to experience family tradition and store in their memories. Kudos to everyone for a wonderful Thanksgiving particularly noteworthy due to the absence of any crying, whining, screaming, critiquing or any other major intergenerational scenes. Hallelujah. Diane

Tonight is the night before Thanksgiving and we have a tradition of going to see the balloons being blown up for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Several large city blocks are closed down and thousands of adults and children crowd the streets for the chance to stroll by and see “Hello Kitty”, “Scooby Doo”, “Snoopy” and the rest of the gang get blown into life. Giant balloon prep takes hours and it is usually a festive way to kick off the holidays. Usually.

Due to the unseasonably mild weather, a record number of people turned out for the balloon blowing tonight. Millions of us jammed the street, funnelled by barricades, the police, and the momentum of the crowd onto the closed off sidewalks to view the waiting floats. It was the sort of scene which casts NYC in a scary and negative light—too many frustrated people in the same small space jostling and getting jostled for position. However, in the midst of this mayhem I had a rather large “lightbulb moment” when I heard a short exchange between a woman and a police officer. In response to this woman shouting “This is horrible! Awful! Miserable!”, a police officer calmly responded, “Nobody said you had to be here, ma’am”. That shut her up and turned a lot of heads as that wisdom sank in. We were all choosing to be there…

The balloon scene was definitely out of my control (and everyone else’s)–but I chose to be there with my children and I chose to shift my perspective, be somewhat flexible and laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. I called upon the Mommy Trifecta. My children were not actually in danger despite the size of the crowd and we were able to seek repreive inside my in-laws lovely apartment. It was not awful that my daughter kept asking “do we have to be here? do we have to do this?”, it just stang because it took some considerable effort on my part to make that child unfriendly experience go down.

I need to remember this notion of choice and perspective as I head into Thanksgiving and back to work…Diane

Would you believe I’m feeling a little excited about returning to work? I will miss my beautiful baby no doubt. However, I had a kind of dry run today as I had to present at a meeting and there were certainly aspects of my morning that seemed easier than usual. For instance, my mother-in-law took my two older kids to school so I could finish getting ready. Since I wasn’t bringing Baby Quinn, I didn’t need to pick an outfit that I could nurse discreetly from nor did it matter whether my outfit worked well with a Baby Bjorn. I walked quietly and quickly to work by myself without negotiating any disputes. When I got to work, my clothes were still clean without any spit up. The meeting I attended was interesting and punctuated with funny banter–no crying, no fighting, no whining. And I got to leave after 2 hours.

I’m back with my darling boy now and grateful to be here too. My goal is to stay present-centered wherever I am–fully aware & positive; like a “fully engaged monk” inviting the world to bring it on? Time to go pick up my other kids…Diane

It’s snowing! My baby is 3 months old today and I’m back home after a perfectly smooth “drop off” of kids at school. I am feeling the beauty of the small things…

Hearing my sleeping infant’s breath go in and out, feeling the weight of his little body on my chest, watching him stretch his arms and legs in seemingly slow motion like a mechanical doll….

Leaving the house in the morning “on time” so that we can walk at a leisurely pace.
Holding the hand of each of my two older children, one on each side, while wearing my newborn in a baby bjorn on my chest. Feeling the softness of their skin, listening to their excitement about the first snow and their ensuing day at school, seeing snowflakes… knowing for this moment, all is pure perfection in my world. Hope you have at least a moment like this today too. xx Diane