Focus

I often feel like I have some sort of attention deficit disorder as a parent. It’s difficult for me to focus on my kids for more than a few seconds before my brain starts to wander. Even when Bub is doing something hilarious to get my attention. Even when G is cooing and smiling in my face. As soon as I realize I’m distracted, I feel the guilt swoop in. I’m a horrible mother for not paying attention to my adorable children right in front of me. How could I not see the gifts before my very eyes? The ones that only last a moment before they’re gone, sometimes forever. They’ll only be little for so long. Focus, Linda! Focus! The judgy, anxious, negative thoughts start to cloud my brain, replacing the random distracted ones that were there seconds before.

The older I get, the more memories my brain collects, which means the more memories my brain can wander to. The more I’m with my kids without a break, the more my brain wanders, because I haven’t given it the time and space to wonder. I used to be able to think about anything I wanted without any guilt.

Honestly, I’m not made for this. “This” being parenting. And because I’m not made for this, I don’t think I’m cut out for it. All my life, I’ve let myself think deeply about things that I want to think about - selfishly. When I became an adult, as soon I wanted to do something, I, more often than not, did the thing that I wanted. Perfectly conditioned to be self-centered by my family, my education, the media, and society at large.

As soon as my kids entered the picture, my world shifted to revolving around them. Physically, mentally, emotionally, logistically, financially. It’s a true mindf***. Thirty years of thinking only of myself and all of a sudden, I’m not able to do that anymore? That’s hard.

What, I’m supposed to be able to stare at a baby for hours now? I’m instantly supposed to be able to play make-believe for hours on end? Asking me to do these things when I’ve had time for myself is challenging, let alone having to do them on a day without any breaks. Yet, I feel immense pressure to enjoy it. You’re going to miss it when it’s gone. There’s that inner critic again.

I wish I had gone to “Parenting School” before having kids. This hypothetical school would wake me up at all hours of the night and time me at how fast I could change a diaper. It would teach me all the “Daniel Tiger” songs I’d need to know for any task or emotion. It would quiz me on how to make a proper bottle of formula. I’d get hands-on training on how to safely buckle a toddler in a car seat. And, the final exam would be to do all of this every day for three months straight while the sound of a crying baby played loudly in the background.

One of the most surprising aspects of parenting is, perhaps, how mundane it can be. Repeatedly building blocks, reading board books, and singing “Row Row Row Your Boat” is…boring and mind-numbing. Four years ago, I could travel anywhere I wanted at the drop of a hat. I could go out to restaurants on a whim. I could stay out late without an ounce of guilt. Now the most exciting part of my day is going to bed without crying.

I became a parent without any training. Zero conditioning whatsoever. So, when I start to feel guilty for not being able to focus on playing Baby Skye in a pretend Paw Patrol scenario with Bub because my brain keeps thinking about a work email, an anxious thought, Timothée Chalamet at the Golden Globes, and the rice that can’t boil over on the stove, I’m going to give myself a break.

It’s no question that parenting is relentless, but how do I stay present in the relentlessness? It’ll take practice, discipline, and more mental stamina than I ever could have imagined. Being present is a practice. Being present is a practice. Being present is a practice.

'23 and Me

This year was not what I had in mind. In many ways, it surprised and delighted me. In many ways, it was harder than I anticipated. For one, I was pregnant for most of 2023, which isn’t always fun. But, I suppose the biggest theme for me this year was “progress”.

Looking over my 2023 intentions and vision board, there aren’t many things I can cross off. We didn’t sell our house like I had wanted. I didn’t finish a lot of the projects I started. I still haven’t figured out where I want to live long-term. I’m 15 pounds off my goal weight. I still rage and have anxiety.

But, I’ve made progress. And, I’ve had way fewer anxiety attacks and rage episodes.

The biggest tangible learning for me this year was how important my relationship is with Steve. If I’m not on the same page with Steve, then it doesn’t matter how happy my kids are or how well I’m doing at work. Steve is my other half, my partner in parenthood, the solar power that our household runs on and without being on good terms with him, it’s hard for me to think about anything else. The health of my marriage permeates into every aspect of my life.

As I look ahead at the new year, there are parts I secretly dread. Bub will turn four, which means he’s that much closer to Kindergarten, that much closer to becoming a teenager. Next year, G will learn to sit up on her own, eat solids, and maybe even walk. Every year, my kids get a little older. Every year, I get a little older.

We don’t plan on traveling in 2024 or making big purchases. In fact, I’ve challenged the family to not purchase any new clothes or any new toys in the new year. It’s our “no buy” year and I’m curious to see how else we find fulfillment. 2024 may sound boring with nothing grand to look forward to, but I’m excited to see how I can find joy in the everyday, the seemingly mundane. I challenge myself to focus on what’s in front of me, to see not the lack but the luck.

Split

As a parent, I am feeling constantly split these days. If I’m not with Bub, then I’m with G. If I’m not with G, then I’m with Bub. If I’m with my kids, then I want to be by myself. If I’m by myself, then I want to be with my kids.

On a good day, feeling split may look like spending quality time with G in the morning while Bub is at preschool and spending quality time with Bub when he gets home. I feel balanced and content with both kids. On a rough day, feeling split may look like a sleep-deprived me trying to wash bottle parts while G is screaming and Bub is yelling, “Mom! Mom! Look at me! Look at me!”. I feel over-stimulated, burnt out, and about to erupt.

Having two kids is like having two conversations at the same time. All the time. Bub, being verbal and mobile, is usually the loudest voice in the room. When I’m playing with G, my focus breaks away to the Tasmanian Devil racing around me, yelling “Mom! Mom! Look at me!”. Compared to when Bub was a baby, I don’t have all the time in the world to pay attention to G and that makes me feel guilty.

When I do finally get time with G and she is snuggled against my chest, I get emotional thinking about how fast she’s growing and want to hold her forever. Yet at the same time, I have a strong desire to get up and do something for myself - be it get a drink of water, go to the bathroom, check my email, sleep horizontally, anything. Such is my life. I am endlessly torn.

I try to satisfy both and give her a few extra squeezes before laying her down in her crib. Because I know now that I’ll be a better mom if I give myself a break.

Parenting, I've learned, is all about trade-offs. It’s about feeling conflicting emotions simultaneously. It’s celebrating firsts and lasts all together. It’s finding the discipline to focus on the child in front of me instead of getting distracted with the grocery list. And, it often requires being a hypocrite. I am judged and constantly judging. How is it that I feel dead inside and like I’m thriving at the same time? I am both living the dream and losing the dreamer in me.

This poem by Karen McMillan called “Mother of All Contradictions” nails it:

I’m so happy with my choices

Yet question them daily

I’ve never felt so accomplished

Then suddenly, failing

I’m excited for the future

Yet always looking back

I’m bursting at the seams

With all the things that I lack

I’m vacant

But always so full of you

I’ve learned so much

But still don’t have a clue

I’m close to my limit

But can’t get enough

I’m put upon, I’m passive

But undeniably tough

I’m gentle

But can’t help shouting

I’m certainly

Doubting

I’m oblivious

But care, so much, what you think

I’m the steady, stable one

Always teetering on the brink

I’m unemployed

Yet have never worked so bloody hard

I’m that happy smiling soul

Who’s full of mard

I’m permanently skint

But have never felt richer

I’m mindfully looking

At the bigger picture

I need a break

But always want you close

I’m invisible

But have never felt so exposed

I give others advice

I can’t seem to follow

I find yours, especially

Hard to swallow

I complain that I’m lonely

But just want to be alone

I’m positively grateful

But love a good moan

I’m absent

Yet ever-present

I’m dull

But effervescent

I’m tired

Yet enlivened

I’m loving this

But can’t abide it

I’m strong in my beliefs

Yet lack conviction

I’m reality TV

And a work of fiction

I’m the Mother

of all contradiction

Help Wanted

With my firstborn, I was such a ball of nerves that I couldn’t appreciate help even when I had it. Now as a second-time mama, I’m finally seeing the benefits of having an extra pair of hands with my kids.

I had so many rules when Bub was born that it was impossible for anyone to watch him, myself and Steve included. I was so hard on everyone. At the time, I convinced myself that I had high standards and wanted the absolute best for my child. In hindsight, I had severe, debilitating anxiety. Some of my rules were:

• Only organic food and milk

• No burnt food

• No food cooked on Teflon or aluminum foil

• No food that’s touched plastic

• Only filtered water

• No scented laundry detergent

• No fabric softeners

• No dryer sheets

• No plastic toys

• No clothes made out of synthetic fabrics

• No screen time

• No phones near him at all

Yeah, I was really intense. I still am. Some of these rules still apply, but I’ve definitely loosened up. For instance, he eats non-organic food now and has had a lot…a lot of screen time.

Family members wanted to watch Bub. It was me that refused. I was terrified of someone watching him and not following my rules. My anxiety and refusal put immense pressure and burden on Steve to be the only other person to take care of our child - in a way that wouldn’t send me into a spiral.

Then, I got pregnant with G and I was physically forced to give up on many of my rules. I needed help with Bub, especially on days I could barely get out of bed. If relatives sneaked him artificially-flavored Oreos and pretzels, I wasn’t in a position to ban them from seeing him. I could remind them, of course, but the reality is that when I’m not around, I don’t have as much control over what he eats or comes into contact with.

Last month, my aunt from Taiwan came to town. She doesn’t have a partner and never had children of her own, but she helped raise all of the kids on my dad’s side of the family. She taught me how to do laundry and put on makeup. She was the one who was there when I got my period for the first time. She was the first to teach me to recycle, planting the seed in my mind that our planet should be taken care of. She inspired me to see as much of the world as possible. She is the mom I wish I had.

And now, my kids are able to develop their own relationships with her. When she comes over, she brings warm food for Steve and me to eat, plays with Bub, holds and feeds G, and cleans the house. When Steve and I want to workout together or grab dinner just the two of us, she pushes us out the door. She’s always game to go on trips with us, sitting in the backseat and assisting with the kids. She does it all without being asked, without being paid, without complaining, and always with love and kindness. I’ve never appreciated her more.

Accepting help has opened my life in ways I never expected. I’m able to give each kid more individualized attention. I have more patience with Steve. I can let myself just breathe. Help lightens the motherload.

Autumnal Awe

I always get a little sad when October is over. October offers last calls on summer weather, gifting us 80 degree days here and there. October provides school day nostalgia, reminding me of mine and Steve’s first homecoming dance many moons ago. October kicks off the first holiday of the season, the best one in my opinion.

It’s no question that Halloween is this family’s favorite holiday. This month, Steve has found joy in decorating the outside of our house with ghosts, skeletons, and spiders. Bub dressed up as Iron Man/Boy and went trick-or-treating for the first time (I don’t think he fully comprehended the concept of holidays last year). It was so fun to watch Bub excitedly hand out candy to trick-or-treaters.

To me, November means winter is undeniably on its way. Sure enough, it snowed and hailed on Halloween. The leaves have fallen and the trees are bare. The air has shifted from brisk to bitter. I have to bundle up in a scarf, heavy boots, and a shapeless coat to go outside.

October 2023 was jam-packed with weekend activities. There were many October birthdays to celebrate across our friends and family. Every weekend felt special. And, every weekend involved cake. On top of this, my aunt from Taiwan came to stay and the following week, my cousin and her husband traveled from Taiwan to spend time with us. It's always so special to have our overseas relatives visit. I've really missed them. It’s not until I see them that I realize a piece of my heart sits halfway across the world. They left on October 31st - the perfect cap to an eventful month.

Over the past few weeks, G has seemingly doubled in size. She recognizes sounds and faces. She is so smiley, gifting us with moments of pure happiness when everything around us feels chaotic. Her neck is getting stronger each day. Her favorite activity is being held and walked around while she faces outward. Her neck standing strong on her shoulders as she observes her world with wide eyes. Over the past few days, she’s been sleeping longer in her bassinet - much to Steve’s relief since he usually does the night shift with her.

Meanwhile, Bub has seemingly grown several inches. He no longer needs a step stool to wash his hands or pee in the toilet. At drop-off, he eagerly runs into his preschool classroom. We’ve watched him learn in leaps and bounds with his teachers and classmates - reciting entire songs and identifying letters that previously took us months to get him to learn. He’s swimming like a fish during his weekly swim lessons. He’s playing more independently and growing more patient. He’s officially potty-trained. While I miss his toddler days, I love that I get to witness the confident, curious, kind kid he’s becoming.

Though we are more stretched than ever and have little time to ourselves, Steve and I are the strongest we’ve been since becoming parents. When Bub was born, my anxiety and hormones almost broke us. Now as second-time parents, we’re learning from the first go around. I’ve found us speaking to each other in a nicer way, more patient with each other’s shortcomings, and being able to identify earlier when the other needs something. Seasons change and the phases of our children will come and go. It was the two of us before kids and it’ll be the two of us when they leave the nest.

October in a nutshell