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"Don't call me grown-up - that is not polite."

- Rohan, 3

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Posts Tagged ‘Why’

Downtime

By Laura Parvey-Connors

Downtime. It’s what I have wanted. It’s what I have dreamed about for two years. A mommy vacation — no responsibilities, no obligations, no dirty diapers. Time to reconnect with me. To sleep in. To sit by the pool. To decompress.

Last Friday, I boarded a plane to Vegas for a girls getaway. A party to celebrate some 30th birthdays. Three nights with no husband, dog, or child. Seven women in a city that never sleeps. The irony. I couldn’t sleep.

I wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep in until 10:00 am and take cat naps on by the pool. But, my mind and body wouldn’t do it. I’d lay there and will myself to relax. I would tell myself to stay in bed until at least 8:00. But, my internal clock wouldn’t let me. As soon as the alarm clock clicked to 6:30, I was wide awake.
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Mama(lode) says: The perfect day

Today I did it, I finally was a great mother. Usually, I push us through the day connecting activity and errand until nap time and then punting the last hour or so before my husband comes home. My sons are drug around and impatient, causing me to be irritable with them, causing them to be crabby, causing me to…you know how it goes. But today, oh today, I just hunkered down and we lived the stay at home dream. We ate a wholesome breakfast. Finger-painting was next, followed immediately and smoothly with a bath in the sink. Baking, blocks, and horse-rides, I was a present mom rather than my usual distracted self. And the biggest surprise was that I loved it.

My generation of women were raised to believe we could do it all; education, career, motherhood, marriage, independence. As little girls we were told that we could be anything we wanted. Our parents, teachers, and coaches were right, they just forgot to mention that we couldn’t be it all at the same time. Or at least not do it all very well at the same time. I spend a great portion of each day thinking of everything I am not doing. If I am home I am thinking about what I need to be doing at work, if I am not home, I ache for my children. I have done countless combinations of work and home, part-time, full-time, job share, self employed, at home. None of the combinations have achieved a balance that lasted as our needs and children grew and changed.
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Why: Furry Frienemy to Friend

By Laura Parvey-Connors

It was early spring when we adopted our first baby, a 6-month-old black lab puppy. My husband and I had been looking for the perfect four-legged companion to bring into our new home. A dog was a way to expand our family without committing to parenting a child. We figured it would calm any biological clock needs for a few years. We found our furry, first child online at the Hamilton Humane Society, met her for about 30 minutes and rushed her home to Missoula.

She was a timid, energetic puppy, who needed a lot of work and training. My rock-hound husband suggested renaming her Onyx and I agreed hoping that I wouldn’t have to name any of our children after rocks. She was our first glimpse into parenthood — waking up at night to let her out, walking her multiple times a day to tamper that puppy energy, fixing holes in dry wall, taking her to the doctor when she got injured, and spoiling her with toys and treats.

evswithonyx
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Why: Cloth Diapering on the Road — What Was I Thinking?

By Kimberlee Jensen Stedl

The character Bettina on Absolutely Fabulous once commented on eco-parenting, “We tried to be green, but it’s just not humanly possible.” While I love cloth diapers, eco-parenting on the road tested my mettle.

Pocket diapers such as Fuzzi Bunz (which are available at Nature Boy in Missoula) are genius. However, cloth diapering while traveling makes even these stylish and simple diapers difficult. In my son’s first year of life, we did three two-week trips. On trip one—a visit with grandparents—we compromised and used primarily disposables but cloth at night. Trip three included a stay in the jungle of Dominica, where the nearest place to buy disposables was 45 minutes away and open limited hours. So using cloth there was a no-brainer.

why_kimberlee1 Trip two was the interesting one. My son Ivan and I tagged along with my husband as he went to New York City on business, then we headed up to Boston to visit my parents. On this trip, I insisted on reserving disposables just for plane and train rides.

My husband’s company puts people up only in ultra-swank hotels. After a few days there he called it the stiletto heel of hotels—looks gorgeous but is utterly dysfunctional—a great place for metrosexuals to have an affair, but good for little else. In our room we had a loofa sponge and candles, but no coffee maker or ice bucket. Most importantly, there were no coin-op laundry machines on the property.
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Why: Bathroom Doors Have Locks

By Nina Shyne Alviar

Now, I just want to say, I love my kids. I am all about togetherness, and I feel that I am as selfless as the next mother with my personal space when they need me. But God Almighty, all I want is a few minutes a day by myself, just to sit, relax and, well, get down to business. I want to be alone in the bathroom.

Why_nina_bathrooms
When nature calls and I’m alone with my boys, ages one and three, I leave the door open so that I can observe them and keep them safe. They make this remarkably easy for me because they follow me into the bathroom. The three year old insists that I “Watch Mama!” while he hops on one foot and the one year old attempts to use my underwear like a hammock. Or they start fighting about something or other and come screaming into the bathroom for my immediate mediation services. Or one or both of them suffer an Owie that sends them sobbing into my lap. Why these things happen at this exact moment, we shall have to ask the Oracle.
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