Work is one thing…other parts of life are also disproportionately (unfairly?) limited by single parenthood. Here are some of the things I feel that I can’t do as a single mom:

1. Make last-minute plans. Friends my age don’t quite understand this one, but they will one day.
2. Take a purse everywhere. Two is not enough hands if I’m going to buy something: one hand is for the child, the other is for whatever I purchase. And in my case, I need all the strength I have in both arms to lift my son into a grocery cart.
3. Jump out of the car for a minute. When there isn’t a second person to wait in the car, everything is more annoying. I find this most frustrating for things like getting cash from the ATM or paying for gas inside the gas station. An average trip means 3 or 4 times of hooking and unhooking the car seat.
4. Financially justify pampering. If I want to get a pedicure or get my hair cut, I have to add the cost of a babysitter to the cost of the pampering. Needless to say, my conclusion is always the same: not worth it. Thus, my non-hairstyle. I’m just trying to avoid a mom haircut for as long as possible.
5. Take a quick trip to the store. I have this luxury on the days when my mom is not working, but most days require extensive planning for the the most insignificant of errands.
6. Comfortably go anywhere at night with child in tow. Mother + baby + dark parking lot = bad idea.
7. Skip a bath time/bed time routine. Even when I do have help around, my son wants me to do be the one sitting in the bathroom until his skin gets raisin-like and reading the same books or watching four hundred episodes of Pocoyo.
8. Yell and run away when there’s a bug in the house. I wish I had someone else to do the shoe-wielding for me, but the two-year-old has yet to perfect his aim.
9. Make dinner every night. Thankfully, I don’t really care about this one.
10. Ignore a cry for help because someone else might respond. I am the only boo-boo doctor and no matter what I am doing, I literally have to drop it and run when I hear that telltale scream.

Now that my son is spending time with his father fairly often, I get quite a few days sans limitations. I’m looking forward to living Life, Balanced.

Technorati Tags: divorce, parenting, Pocoyo, single mom, two-year-old, work-life balance, working mom

Technorati Tags: bilingualism, second language, SpanglishBaby

As the only grandson in his father’s family and the only grandchild in mine, my boy was practically royalty from the moment of his birth. Sometimes I look at all the toy vehicles lined up in the garage, the clothes spilling out of his dresser, and the trains I trip on in the middle of the night, and leap to the conclusion that there is no avoiding Only Child Syndrome. I fear that he will have a life that is too easy, but also want to provide him with that. Many parents go through this and have to learn to set boundaries from the get-go, but is it really worse with only children?

The truth is: we probably never know the answer. Each parent has either one child or more than one child, so it’s hard to see the other side and imagine if life would be simpler or more difficult, better or worse. Our birth order and the number of siblings we have is just one factor that shapes our lives. While parents’ decisions about family size can define a childhood, they don’t have to mold an adulthood.

Perhaps I am preoccupied with the only-child circumstance for stereotypical reasons: because I fear that my child will be “spoiled” or selfish no matter what I teach him. Or it could be because I never wanted to have only one child. Whatever the reason, I go back and forth between loving the idea of having him as my baby forever, my little buddy, and yearning to give him a friend for life and meet whatever other little people I have yet to produce. Separating the latter urge from mere baby fever, which tends to arise when you battle a toddler 24/7, is the hard part.

In my single-mom situation, the reality of having more children lies rather far in the future. As with any major life event, it will happen if it happens and all will be fine whether my hijo remains my only one or not.

What’s your experience? Is the spoiled only child a myth or a reality?

Technorati Tags: birth order, family, only children, parenting, siblings, single mom, toddlers

It’s never too late to be what you might have been. ~ George Eliot

On a good day, I think I have the best job in the world. It comes with flexible hours: I work a few hours a day, sometimes online. It’s rewarding: I guide students through tough tests, tough courses, and sometimes, tough personal struggles. Fortunately, the going rate for private tutoring is such that it has sustained me for many years.

On a bad day, I feel hopeless. If I am not getting through to this one child, how could I possibly get through to the many more who need my help? The very thing that is absolutely necessary for the continuation of my career — the per-student cost — is the most depressing part; it denies access to large numbers of floundering students.

Most days, of course, fall somewhere in between. I feel tugged away from tutoring by the need for stability (no more dead summers), yet my ultimate career interests center around the skills I have perfected in my decade of one-on-one academics. Since job satisfaction fluctuates like this for most people, it helps to maintain a vision of something better, if not bigger. As with other life goals, putting this in writing (or at least allowing the thoughts to be directed into dreams) takes it from impossible to improbable.

Here’s my career vision:

My ideal job would combine tutoring and mentoring in a large-scale nonprofit. I would train others in my “methods” (once I render them into something concrete and transferable) and have each student sponsored by an adult willing to pay for his/her supplemental education. It’s the same idea as sponsoring a single hungry child on the other side of the world, and would eliminate the need for excessive fundraising from stingy corporate sources.

Whether or not this particular vision materializes, its articulation reminds me that a job is a job is a job…until we turn it into something more. A little daydreaming, a little reconnecting to the reasons we work, may be a good start. Even those jobs that just get us through a summer, a crisis, or a decade can act as stepping stones.

With all the bad news and dim forecasts swirling around, right now is the best time to examine the difference between a job and a career, work and life’s work.

Do you know what your life’s work would have/should have been?

It still is.

Technorati Tags: career, education, employment, goals, job, tutoring, vision, work

Read it and let me know what you think!

Technorati Tags: bilingual, SpanglishBaby, Spanish

There have been many turning points since January 2, 2008, when he was born. My emotional growth in these two years has mirrored my son’s physical growth. A lot has changed: my educational attainment, my relationship status, my locale, and my waistline.

I have learned that:

• motherhood gives you instincts you never knew you had.
• I can never get enough of newborns.
• Murphy’s Law applies to family outings: the one time you forget the diaper bag, there will be an accident.
• sleep is a commodity, for which I must bargain with myself and my child.
• a person can live in sweatpants for approximately 3 days before getting the urge to clean up and dress up.
• breastfeeding gives you the lifelong gift of a child who never gets sick.
• there are many breeds of mothers, and I’m glad to be in the “young mom” category.
• little ones absorb the emotional state of the adults around them, and can sometimes provide the most comfort in hard times.
• I hate parenting in front of other people. I do best with everything from story time to tantrums when it’s just the two of us.
• Elmo’s got soul.
• one can expect to lose a significant percentage of one’s friends when a child arrives.
• pregnancy is thrilling; giving birth in a hospital is not.
• so many pieces of a personality are hard-wired from birth.
• I can maintain an interest and participation in the things that are important to me AND be a loving, present mother.
• car seats are the most annoying apparatuses ever invented.
• I am not a worrisome parent, but I am an easily frustrated one.
• my world can expand laterally.

I keep a journal in which I write little notes to my son. Maybe someday he’ll enjoy reading my thoughts throughout the years. I frequently have the urge to talk to the adult version of this person I’m guiding through life, and I wonder what I’ll say to him in ten, twenty, forty years. I am already proud of who he is, and aching for more clues as to who he’ll become.

Technorati Tags: birthday, breastfeeding, children, Elmo, motherhood, Murphy's Law, parenting, toddler, two-year-old, young mom

The thing that’s most frustrating is that it seems as though no one around me understands why I get so frustrated. While some of them are parents too, they are past the point of having to devote 50% or more of their energy and thoughts to someone else. Parenting is a lonely business more often than not. Even when I am surrounded by people, I always have one eye on what I’m doing and one eye on my son. I am, of course, the only one who’s completely distracted 24/7. When I need to use the bathroom, he follows me or cries for me from the other room. If I walk outside to check the mail or take the dog out, I have to hurry because who knows what he’s doing inside?

I can’t wait for the day when I can take a leisurely shower — and remember to shave both legs — without calling to my child every few minutes just to be sure he’s alive and well.

Yes, this is likely every mom’s life. But this is my experience, and my experience is often frustrating. It’s just plain difficult, and it’s nothing to sneer at. The reproducers of this world can pretend to have it all together, but little ones (especially little ones who are about to turn 2) get the best of any caregiver by the end of a long day, sometimes even just a long hour. When you’re doing it alone, the good and the bad is multiplied. It’s hard to keep them balanced and avoid consistently swinging from one extreme to another.

We had a wonderful Christmas, but as most parents know, holidays are no-napping, sugar-eating, staying-up-late, screaming-for-toys days. There is no lounging on the couch in a turkey-induced stupor for those of us named Mom.

It is ironic that the past few weeks (my blog-neglecting weeks) have been so difficult, yet so fun. My little boy has a mind of his own now, and is learning to put his opinions into words. I get countless hugs and kisses every day, and am pleasantly surprised by his independence and caring gestures.

There are nights, though, like tonight, when I grit my teeth as I hold my crying child and think “if only he were a crying newborn again.” I miss the baby phase so much. But there are things about being around an insanely tall, intriguingly bilingual 23-month-old that cannot be matched by the company of a helpless baby.

I suppose finding the humor and joy in every moment becomes more difficult when you’re experiencing the low points by yourself. The important thing is that I am sticking it out, waking up every day intending to stretch out my allocation of kindness, patience, and love for as long as I can. Being a mom is the only job in which you lose your mind over and over, but continue to come back for more. It has to be that way, and I’m very glad it is.

Technorati Tags: Family Life, holidays, love, motherhood, parenting, single parent, toddler

Everyone has their body woes, and there’s no doubt that we exaggerate our own flaws. Still, the formative influence of the preteen years on girls’ lifelong body delusions is profound.

Size is relative, and competition is fierce. Depending upon who we are around, we might feel thin or fat, tall or short, trendy or outdated. This is particularly damaging when we reach the stages of pregnancy and nursing.

Pregnancy is the only legitimate excuse a woman ever has to eat what she wants and gain weight on purpose. It is equally liberating and terrifying. After years of trying to have control over your size and shape, you have to relax into whatever mold the baby and your body decide to put you in. Postpartum, you still have much of the weight/skin, yet feel that you have none of the excuses. We all hear about the Heidi Klums of the world losing all their baby weight in a month, and suddenly feel pressured to be runway-ready with a newborn in our arms. In reality, it is incredibly unhealthy to rapidly lose weight while breastfeeding, and even if you are not. There is a reason for those fat stores, and getting rid of them intentionally means depriving your exhausted self of what little energy nature gives you to get through new motherhood.

The younger you are, the quicker you bounce back, but your body is still permanently changed from the pregnancy and birthing experience. It seems to me that it’s even more difficult to face the physical alterations of motherhood when you’re a young mom, because the world doesn’t yet expect you to be going through them. If I were in my 30s or 40s, complaining about stretch marks and shopping for “mom jeans” would be acceptable. At 23, I still want to look my age (i.e. shop at American Eagle), but according to the modern timeline of life experiences, I’m a good decade ahead. A young mom can’t say a thing about the way a baby has changed her body without an older mom looking down her nose and shooting her a “just-you-wait” scowl.

In some ways, I appreciate my body more now because I can look into the eyes of the little person it created. But it’s difficult to ignore the temptation to compare myself to women my age who haven’t had their breasts stretched and butts widened. At the same time that I miss the feeling of a creature fluttering in my belly, I am critical of my new hint of a muffin top and smaller bra size.

Just like many other things in life, the mommy body is a paradox. Skinny-girl worship in the media hits us with the same force as messages about loving The Shape of a Mother. It is impossible to maintain the pre-baby figure, even with the help of cocoa butter and surgical intervention.

All I know is: I can’t wait until my friends have an opportunity to grow in all the right places. Then, while I may not always love my body, I’ll at least be able to talk about it in an appreciative way, rather than an “ohmygod, i am so fat this week” way. Body talk changes when baby talk begins. Let’s start talking.

Technorati Tags: body image, girls, Heidi Klum, motherhood, postpartum, pregnancy, preteen, the shape of a mother, womens' issues, young mom

Amen.

I can cook, clean, iron, and wash things just as well as the next person. But, I don’t. I don’t like doing any of these things, and I take shortcuts whenever possible. 

I’ve always been anti-domestic activities, but I’m even more so now that the majority of my time is spent with a toddler. Why would I use the precious naptime hour to wash dishes? Perhaps if I had an office job, hence a reason to have pressed clothes, I’d care a little more. But I’m very practical about these things: I don’t care any more about walking around the house in wrinkled shirts than I do about putting on makeup to go to the grocery store. 

When things are simply purposeful, not all-consuming, they have the potential to be more enjoyable. I can use folding clothes as a reason to take a breather, and I can enjoy cooking an elaborate meal once a month because most of the time, I grab cereal or make myself a wrap. 

It’s like anything else in life; balance is key. When I start tripping over toys, I go on a ten-minute organizing spree. When I feel like a slob after days in the house, I curl my hair and find an excuse to leave. I could certainly live in pajamas 24/7, but I avoid the routines that run so many people’s lives. 

A healthy work ethic is important, and I was certainly raised in a busy household. I think I am the only one of my immediate family members who can sit down for more than twenty minutes at a time without jumping up to start the next task. Perhaps it is a kind of rebellion, a decision to get away from things I don’t value but always had to do. I feel about housework like I do about the few “regular” jobs I’ve had: what is the point of doing this exceptionally well? 

The long and short of it is: I’d rather be reading. Or writing. Or running. Always have, always will.

So, as the mom who must instill that same work ethic in my son as he grows, how do I get across the importance of duties without clouding the lesson with my own distaste for all things mundane? I definitely don’t want to be stuck with doing his laundry while he waxes poetic about the uselessness of such a thing. Yet, I want him to pick up on the idea that the drudgery is but a means to an end.

Maybe there will come a day when I have more kids, more work, and more living space, and suddenly have to stick to a shower-scrubbing schedule. But for now, I refuse to spend buckets of time doing things I hate. 

Technorati Tags: balance, cleaning, cooking, domestic tasks, housework, parenting, work ethic