Ground control. Come in ground control.
When I realized how long it has been since I blogged, and all that I’ve wanted to share, a play on these lyrics came to my mind immediately. I’ve lost radio contact with any sort of control.
Much of the aimless spinning is a result of summer fun. We’ve been camping, to a cabin in the Spanish Peaks, had playdates and taken Saturday morning swim lessons. I just completed round II of a twice-a-week 5 a.m. bootcamp that has me going to bed ridiculously early as I’m up to three, sometimes four, 5 a.m. or 5:30 a.m. gym classes/week. Mike and I escaped to Mexico for several nights, just us, at the end of June and through it all I’ve managed to stay ahead of the laundry piles and keep some fresh produce in the house–though there have been very few home cooked meals. We’re all eating a smorgasbord of items with bagged kale salads dominating my lunch and dinner routine. So much so that Rylan sees any sort of lettuce and says, “salad mama.” At least it’s not ice cream, right?
But I can’t shake the feeling, or an obsession really, with all I am not doing. The house is what I define as surface clean. Drawers, cabinets, closets and storage areas are a hot mess, causing me anxiety nearly every day when I try to balance and shove items into a fake sense of organization. We owe wedding gifts dating back to last year and I have a list of about a dozen thank you notes I can never seem to write. Kona is still rarely, if ever, walked and I can’t remember the last time I exposed Rylan to a new recipe. I’m dying to get my hair cut but cannot find the time based on the other priorities I won’t give up. I think my car is blue, but I cannot tell underneath the layers of mud and dust. My eyes ache by the end of each day because I desperately need to go to the eye doctor. But when?
I am SO tired of bagged salads with a protein dumped on top…what I am eating right now. Bagged salads have become a symbol of how certain “me” priorities, like working out, have a domino effect. Having it all as a working mom is not only impossible, it’s a brutal facade that we have to be more honest about.
Yes, I choose to work outside the home because I’ve worked hard to get to where I am professionally and it makes me happy. I don’t want to get off the train. But I also need to work and the daily push/pull of giving work and family my all is all-consuming. Yes, Mike and I work full-time but that doesn’t mean we can afford a nanny who shops, cooks and cleans. Nor can we afford a regular cleaning person if we want to hold gym memberships, travel a few times a year and eat high-quality food. We both work to provide Rylan a safe and stable upbringing. Simple as that.
It’s only going to get harder too. People don’t just tell me that, I see it every day among the incredible moms I call my colleagues and friends. Soccer practice, dance classes, summer camps, homework–Mike and I will blink and soon the “problems” of toddlerhood in a dual-career household will be laughable. I will literally laugh at myself for being stressed.
Perspective. That’s my perspective right now.
Perspective that the angst and tears and stomach eating stress comes from such a deep and powerful love for my family. My obsession is not really about messy drawers. It’s about wanting to do everything so perfectly for my family. I want Rylan to have everything I can give him that’s isn’t necessarily a possession. Love, health, adventure, structure, discipline…and I want to do it all everyday and do it perfectly.
I guess I still haven’t accepted that the Pinterest mom is not real. She’s not attainable.
Ground control. Come in ground control. Can I get a home cooked meal, closet organizer and a hair cut?