New Year's Day

Traditionally, New Year's Day occurs on January 1.

However, for me, New Year's Day occurs on whatever day all the children go back to school. That's today!

My three children attend two different schools. Although my son began school last Wednesday, today is the real back-to-school day in my book, because my daughters began today. So that means I'm sitting in a quiet, empty house all by myself!

That makes today New Year's Day. The day of renewal. A fresh start. That feeling of optimism, knowing that I will have time to pursue the personal goals and household projects that have been sidelined for the past three months.

Just like calendar-year New Year's resolutions that sometimes are broken by three days into the new year, I realize that some of my academic-year New Year's goals and projects will remain unfulfilled by next June, when the kids are home daily again and life resumes a slower, less organized pace. But right now, all my goals seem achievable in a nine-month timeframe. All my projects appear able to be completed.

Yes, nine months from now, I will be Super Mom and we will all live happily in our Super Organized, Super Clean, Super Decorated, Super Efficient house.

But first, let me take a coffee break...

Sleepless

Usually, I sleep well. I go to sleep at around the same time each night. I sleep straight through the night without waking up. I wake up at about the same time each morning.

That's why last night was so unusual and unsettling for me. I couldn't sleep. Or rather, I couldn't stay asleep. Evidently, I was nervous about running my first half-marathon in October. I'd wake up, thinking the race is tomorrow, but I haven't trained enough. Then I'd wake up later, thinking the race is tomorrow, but I don't know how to get to the race start. Then again, thinking the race is tomorrow, but have I planned well enough for my nutritional needs while running? And again, thinking the race is tomorrow, but will I wake up on time? And on and on throughout the night...

Fortunately, as I grow older, I can distinguish the sleepless nights caused by my unconscious telling me I'm making a bad decision, versus the sleepless nights caused by excited nervousness. Last night's episode was the latter.

I mean, what's the worst that can happen? I fail to achieve my time goal? I have to walk part of the race? I get the flu the night before and have to skip the race altogether? Really, while any of those scenarios would be disappointing to me, none are irreparable mistakes. I'd just try again the next time.

I'd rather live my life with challenges that cause me to get butterflies in my stomach than live my life never having taken risks. The challenges allow us to test our limits. To prove we can do what we didn't think we could. They make us feel alive and alert and the good kind of nervous and exhilarated and emotionally, spiritually, and physically fulfilled.

So I've had a sleepless night. It's the first in a while, but it won't be the last. I woke up exhausted, yet alert to my anxieties. Now that they've been so clearly defined through my dreams last night, I can consider them in the light of day, logically addressing the ways in which I can avoid some of the scenarios I fear.

But I do hope I get some sleep tonight.

Techno-Ten

My ten-year-old son opened his new MacBook about 20 minutes before bedtime one night last week. Thanks to both Apple's excellent product design and my son's savvy, within two minutes he was on our household network and could print from anywhere. A minute later he had accessed his e-mail account, where he had an InBox full of messages from his other ten-year-old friends. After a few more minutes of exploring, it was bedtime. (School started the next day, so no free pass for a late bedtime.)

Within minutes of arriving home from school the next day, he'd set up a Skype account, allowing him to visually communicate with his friends in real-time. Next came the AIM account, allowing him to IM with his non-Skype-capable friends.

Since we own a tech company and often have extra components around, my son asked my husband if he could have a freebie printer we'd received with another computer, along with an old bluetooth headset. Within minutes of my husband's arrival home with these items, my son had wirelessly set up the printer on his desk in his room (we didn't even know it was a wireless printer!) and had set up the bluetooth as well.

Over the weekend, he signed up for gmail, with the intention of moving his other e-mail and AIM capabilities to the new account. And began transferring his iTunes library to his new computer. In addition, he'd set about adding photos, creating documents, and videotaping himself doing various silly ten-year-old things, complete with visual effects. We're hoping he might actually use the computer for school research and for writing papers, but I'm sure these are merely secondary goals for him!

Now it's back-to-school Monday, and I think he's just about done setting up his new computer. I find it so fascinating that he -- along with so many kids these days -- is so tech savvy that he was able to to intuitively and effortlessly configure his new computer to his satisfaction, without the help of his parents. In fact, he taught us some new things in the process.

Lest anyone worry that we've given him too much leeway, and exposed him to too much freedom, know this: Our son knows that, at the age of ten, he is granted zero expectation of privacy. He knows that we have the right, and will exercise that right, to examine his e-mail messages, IM log, Internet log, photos, videos, and documents on his computer. And that we'll exercise this right at our own discretion, and without warning. We would like him to use his new freedom to explore the many uses of technology, but in a safe and considerate manner. No giving out personal information. No viewing or discussing inappropriate material. No discussions that would be hurtful to other friends or acquaintances. Any infraction will result in the removal of the computer. (We've reminded him that he has two sisters who would LOVE to get their hands on his new computer!)

But it is important to let kids explore and use their creativity. Within the guidelines we've set, he should feel trusted to make the right decisions. And if/when he violates that trust, it will be a learning experience for him. That's part of growing up.

Next

Having a child is an event in itself, for obvious reasons.

But parents often experience another event with the arrival of each new child: the decision to work full-time, stay home full-time, or do a combination of both.

Many of my girlfriends chose to put their careers on hold in order to stay home with their children during the early years. I chose the same. Although some of us have worked part-time or have freelanced during this period, the careers of old have been sidelined for a while.

But now our children are getting older. The kids don't need us every minute of the day like they used to. And our daughters need us to model career life for them. Last night, a couple of my girlfriends and I were talking about next careers. We discovered that we had each come to the conclusion that we didn't want to do what we did before, although we had been very good at our previous careers.

Now, those old careers don't seem likely to fulfill. But what will?

Last night wasn't the first time I'd mulled over the ideas of career, success, fulfillment. What is a career? Does it have to mean working for someone else in a 40-hour-per week job? Owning one's own business? How does one identify success? Is it by money earned? Awards received? And how is a sense of fulfillment measured? Doing what we think we ought to do? Doing what we feel others want us to do? Or perhaps as a state of flow, the concept that psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi identified and that I try to apply in my own life.

In the intervening years between leaving our old careers and, now, exploring new ones, much has changed in our lives. Indeed, our definitions of career, success, and fulfillment have changed. Our tasks now are to identify and pursue careers that meet our new definitions, and allow us to experience that feeling of flow.

So, what's next?

The Call

Tonight I got the call.

The "we're OK and we're coming home" call.

Every year, my husband, son, dad, and two brothers go on a fishing trip. About 18 hours after departure, they get out of communication range. So we can't talk for 7 days, until they are en route home.

These days, we're so used to being able to communicate anywhere, anytime. My husband and I typically check in with each other several times a day, even if it's just a quick e-mail note or voice mail message. So to go seven days without communicating makes me feel so disconnected.

Though actually, I believe it gives each of us the opportunity to reconnect with ourselves.

But I wonder how they are. Out in the wilderness, anything can happen. They're a careful, observant, skilled group of men. Still, they're cohabiting with wild animals.

In the meantime, I'm left wondering if all the men I love are safe.

I breathe a sigh of relief and I smile. They're OK. They're coming home.

Not Too Seriously

Metaphor aside, I like the imagery of these lines from Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours":


I've been spending way too long checking my tongue in the mirror
And bending over backwards just to try to see it clearer
But my breath fogged up the glass
And so I drew a new face and I laughed

Her Insight

We had loaded the groceries in the car and were buckling up earlier this afternoon when my daughter said to me, "I don't know how we were so good at the store today." She was obviously pleased with her and her sister's behavior. Then she added what I was thinking: "If we had gone to the store this morning, we would not have been so good!"

Had my daughter witnessed the other mom in the parking lot with her two younger children as we entered the store? That mom was saying, "I am done with you two. As soon as we get home, you are both going to your rooms and you're going to have some quiet time alone." I smiled as I passed her, knowing she was probably looking forward to her quiet time alone when they got home! Her voice was even--she wasn't yelling--but I believed her when she said she "was done."

I believed her because I thought of how many times I have said those exact words to my own children.

And my daughter was right: If we had gone to the store this morning, the whole outcome would have been very different. Who was the brilliant mom (me) who scheduled two sleepovers in a row? What was she (I) thinking? The result of that scheduling snafu was two very tired and short-tempered twins. One of them took the brunt of the sleep-deprivation and spent the morning complaining, whining, and yelling at the two of us.

But the morning's vibe was a distant memory as I walked into the grocery store with my two sweet, perfectly-behaved, adorable twin girls. (At least, that's what that other mom saw as I walked by her. I knew better.)

On another day, or even earlier this day, I could have easily been the parent who was "so done" with my children! That other mom could have been the one with the perfect children, looking on as I tried to civilly but tersely scold my children through a plastered-on smile.

One thing I've learned from parenting my three children is that they are definitely their own beings. Although I can influence them, that's about as far as it goes. They are individual little people, with their own moods, and needs, and desires, and thoughts. Many factors influence their behavior.

And they live so "in the moment." If they're tired and they feel irritated, then they're darn well going to act grumpy! If they're well fed, rested, and doing something they like, then voila! they're pleasant and happy. Much as we want them to, they don't reflect on how their actions affect others.

Usually.

What I love about my daughter's comment is that she's starting to get it. She had some insight into her own actions and behavior. She realized that they had been courteous to one another this afternoon; they shared; they complimented one another; they negotiated differences calmly and respectfully. We had a pleasant shopping trip. She also seemed to recognize that they had troubles with courtesy and respect earlier in the day.

Just another joyful example of watching my children grow and become self-aware in my own little microcosm of the universe.

Windswept

For 24 hours, though not without obligations, I am without family.

I'm not mom, not wife, just me.

So I took the Mini out on the highway for a drive with the top down.

Little car.
Big wind.

Clutter cleared.

I'm Alive!

I can't help laughing at myself as I write this.

"I'm alive!" is what my husband taught the girls to shout--instead of "Ouch!"--when I brush their tangly hair. He told them that feeling some pain is good because if they never felt any pain, then they probably wouldn't be alive anymore. They didn't quite buy into it, but sometimes they humor him with it.

My trainer had me work my hamstrings and other posterior muscles particularly hard yesterday. I'm definitely not the strongest or fastest person at the gym, but when I'm there, I work hard, I don't whine, and I have a good sense of humor about myself. Besides, I like it when Mike pushes me to do the hard work, because the easy stuff I can do just fine on my own.

Anyway, yesterday's workout was definitely tougher than most. As I was struggling to stay upright on my spaghetti legs, I asked him, "Are you sure I'll be able to run tomorrow?" (He knows I run on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays at 7:00 a.m.) He laughed and promised me that, yes, I'd be able to run.

OK, so he was right. I was able to run this morning. It's all the other everyday functions that I'm not so capable of. You know, functions like walking, sitting, getting back up again, bending over to pick up objects, using the stairs. Just those little things.

Oh, I hear the doorbell ringing. I have to get up. "Ouch!"

Oops, I mean, "I'm alive!"

Blank Canvas

In most creative pursuits, I'm not actually very creative. Can't draw, can't paint, can't sing. But I do enjoy designing a piece of furniture or an addition to the house. And I like having the freedom to decorate a new room. That's my kind of canvas. Not that I've had any training in interior decorating. I'm probably not very good at it, from a pro's perspective. I just like to do it, and when the project is finished, I usually feel that the outcome reflects our (or at least my) style, taste, and function.

So I decided that the dining room, which we actually use as the piano room, since it's rare that we entertain by hosting formal dinners, needed an overhaul. It's the first room people see when they walk in our house, and it has remained a hodge-podge of miscellaneous furniture, even after almost ten years of living in this house. All the other rooms on the first floor have been updated recently, but for the longest time I just didn't know what to do about the dining room that wasn't. Finally, I had a vision of what the room should be! Within a day of that vision, I emptied the room of all furniture--except the piano: it's kind of big and heavy.

I had a blank canvas on which to fine-tune my vision and start creating the "new" room. The empty room gave me such energy, such excitement!

Well, my husband also saw a blank canvas, but for a different purpose: he needed a place to prep for their fishing trip.

Almost immediately, the room was populated with storage bins of camping supplies, with all the supplies removed from the bins and organized on the floor. The meals that my husband prepared in the food dehydrator were carefully packed, labeled, and placed on the piano bench. The tent was fully assembled so its condition could be checked and the seams could be sealed.

Talk about a hodge-podge! This was not exactly my vision for the dining room.

I just laughed, because I knew the usurping of "my" room was temporary. Eventually, the tent was disassembled, and the supplies they needed to take were packed in their backpacks. The rest were placed back in the bins.

Now back to creating that vision on my canvas...

Near and Far

Last week, my husband and I went on our annual vacation with some very good friends. We three couples flew to Newport, Rhode Island, for a little east coast getaway. Last year, we went to a resort in Mexico. The year before that, wine tastings in Napa Valley. We try to vary our themes and locations, while not straying too far from our children left behind. We are all very involved with our children, so the point of these trips is to enjoy the company of our adult friends while savoring some experiences that our children would not enjoy (or that would not be appropriate, in the case of the wine trip). Meanwhile, the kids are all off having adventures of their own, whether at camps or with grandparents.

I don't know if this is just me, or if the majority of travelers feel this way, but the excitement I feel when embarking on a new trip is equal to the relief I feel when arriving back home. I can't imagine staying put all the time, not seeing new places, having new experiences. Not that I've been everywhere, seen everything. Not by a long-shot. But we do try to get away three or four times per year, if not more. I look forward to each and every one of these trips, and I enjoy that feeling of anticipation as the departure date draws near.

However, within two days of our return trip, I start feeling a new anticipation: eagerness for home. Perhaps it's because, as an introvert, I feel energized by alone time. As an organized person, I feel comfort in routine. I love having quiet family nights, even if we're all just watching America's Funniest Home Videos together with a bowl of popcorn. Enjoying a home-cooked meal instead of eating out. Sleeping in my own bed. Sometimes, just 24 hours is all I need to completely recharge after a busy period, to be ready for the next event.

My husband feels the same way. Although we enjoy going out with each other and with friends, running the kids around to their activities with their friends, and generally keeping an active lifestyle, we place a very high value on time at home. Every few months, we schedule a weekend in which we decline all invitations and postpone scheduled events so we can just hang out with each other as a family.

Alas, sometimes life just gets hectic and we have to roll with it. My husband and I returned from our trip at midnight on Thursday. At 4:00 a.m. today, Saturday, he and my son left for their annual fishing trip with the guys. That left 28 hours to transition from one trip to the next, with the requisite tasks of doing laundry, stocking up on groceries, unpacking and then packing again, checking in at the office, attending to urgent issues, and purchasing last-minute necessities. Oh, and celebrating my father's birthday, too!

Just 28 hours of craziness. Now I'm home with my two girls and the dog, a relatively easy scenario for me. The girls are off playing while I sit on the back porch with a breeze blowing through the open windows, the birds singing in the trees around me, and the dog sleeping beside me. I can practically feel my engine recharging as I sit. And though my husband is on the road again, he'll get a bit of a recharge as a passenger on the long drive. Once they arrive at their site, he'll enjoy the peaceful time with his son in the wilderness.

We'll all have a really great week, whether near to or far from one another. But the best day of all will be the one in which we're all together again.