5 metaphors that describe my working motherhood right now

Just for fun, because I just finished working and it’s after 10pm, here are five metaphoric-idiomic examples I can think of off the top of my head that describe my experience right now as a fairly career-driven, family-driven, career driven, family driven, career and family driven working mom.

  1. I’m on a roller coaster that in theory could stop, but I can’t reach the lever, and the fact is, I kind of don’t want to reach for the lever, because I’m a sado-masochist curious about where this will stop.
  2. The chicken comes first. Also, the egg. Both come first. And you rule the roost. Both roosts. You rule all the roosts even when you’re pooped.
  3. Most of the time, it’s about keeping your head above water. Sometimes you just have to hold your breath and jump in, feet first. Sometimes it’s not you jumping in, but your kid, at his swim lesson, while you’re scrambling to organize a press release.
  4. The ball is in my court. Constantly. But my hands are tied. And now my wrists are tired. And also my face. My face is tired.
  5. There is no such thing – for anyone, ever – as sleeping like a baby.

And with that, Slack is buzzing and some kid is stirring and cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon…

Fifty-Two Frames: Reflections.

This week’s photo inspired by our getaway last week. Which feels like a year ago, since I’m already sick, my kids aren’t sleeping through the night, I have a ton of work on my plate, and well, it’s raining a lot.

Bla bla life is so hard when just last week we wined and dined with no kids around.

How many glasses does it take to enjoy a night of adult conversation, speculation and reflection – away from the kids?

Bebe update: Five months.

My favorite thing of all time right now:

No one makes Bebe laugh like Koala does. He doesn’t even have to do anything major. Maybe he’s wiggling his bum. Maybe he’s opening and closing his mouth while staring into space. But if Bebe is there and watching, all of a sudden she’s cracking up in her goofy snorty laugh.

Oh, how every little girl wants a big brother!

Aside from laughter, we started with her new daycare situation, which, much like everything else Bebe does, has not been dramatic or stressful. She is and she lets things be.

Her appetite has intensified as aside from nursing, sucking my shoulder, and eating my hair, she is devouring fruits, now up to three kinds a day.

Yet she’s still pretty small. Little Bebe, looks just like her daddy. Blue eyes turned hazel. Grabbing, cooing, floor-swimming.

And the occasional plant-watching.

Koala update: Two years.

Happy birthday, Koala! I appreciate that you woke up today at the same hour you were born two years ago – 6:10 am. Could be worse; we’ve been there together, haven’t we?

And here I thought the first year saw the most change from start to finish… But the second year definitely held its own; there’s been a whole lot of moving, talking, and personality-developing. And of course, tantruming.

And here we are, Koala.

You are, in short, a love. Incredibly sweet. Curious. Sensitive. Funny. Careful.  And when you’re not those things, you’re loud, expressive, intense, demanding, dramatic. Essentially, you’re two. And you’re buckets of fun.

There’s nothing like laughing at your antics, but I notice that lately you’re becoming self conscious about being seemingly laughed at. It’s with, Koala. Don’t shy from your inner funny – keep us cracking up. It’ll get you far as a child of immigrants.

It’s been a helluva month, too – you became a big brother, and you’re adjusting in stride. We’re riding out the initial wave together, and then soon we’ll be focusing on some lesser – but still toddler life-altering – changes. You’ll be getting a bed soon. You’ll be toilet-training very soon. And you’ll be in the older group at gan next year.

What I’m looking forward to as we toddle ahead to three: Watching, listening, and learning from you as you develop your bilingual language skills. Being an audience to your growing imagination. Witnessing you grow from little baby to big brother.

And then there were four…

Having two kids, I’ve heard people say, means now we’re a ‘real’ family…

Of course, it’s silly to think there is a limited definition to ‘real family.’ Two parents and a child felt pretty real, but so did being a couple before that. And I’m pretty sure it’s just the same whether it’s one parent with three kids, or two moms with one kid, or… etc, etc.

But, alas, we grew up reading story books making it so.

So here I am feeling a little bit like the Berenstein Bears (before the book where Mama has little Sister).

How can I not eat this?

I love coming home from work and unwinding with Koala for a few minutes. Or half an hour. Or hour. However it ends up any particular day.

Today we played with trains. Unfortunately, Koala has a parent with a short attention span, which I suppose might be a genetic misfortune.

So after the train was wound up to make another round, I got up and wandered over to see what work emails I had to respond to.

Next thing I know I look down and Koala is holding my leg, looking up at me, and saying:

“Mama! Bo! More.”

Sorry work, but the trains win.

How did you do it?

Funny how, so often, for so many, aliyah means getting on a plane with three bags instead of two.

That’s how I did it. I had school plans in the near-distant future, a few phone numbers. Knowing I could go back and visit New York at the right price.

No pressure-aliyah. With a five year guarantee (and counting…)

It seems like that is how my brother is doing it – tomorrow, in fact. Which means I reach a new stage – the ‘family in Israel,’ the ‘other one,’ the ‘first one.’

Trying to give my brother packing tips. You get it down after a few times back and forth.

They even have Reese’s here, if you look hard enough.

How did you do it? Make aliyah?

Koala update: Sixteen months.

Let’s talk about… monsters.

As we have surely learned in the past sixteen months, monsters come in all shapes and sizes, colors and lengths of fur. Some are red and high pitched; others are blue and love to eat cookies.

Monsters have a grizzly, mean side. They roar when they’re angry, turn red with frustration, throw blocks at their mamas, and point at you accusingly. Their tempers run out in a snap, and from 0 to 60 they manage to squeeze out little monster tears to get their points across.

But monsters also have a yummy, happy, ticklish side. They hug their mama’s legs after she comes home from a day at work. They learn how to give kisses properly, so they can cover their parents’s faces with delicious monster kisses. They laugh for no reason and smile at anyone. They poke their belly buttons and point to their noses.

Unsurprisingly, little monsters know how to relish a cookie.

And they love, love, love to help put on their brand new shoes.

Ponder that, my little monster.