A Different Kind Of Grief

*This post will be less Donna Reed more me.  Probably all me, but we'll see how it goes. =)*

 If you follow me on facebook or know me "in real life" you know that my baby started kindergarten this week.  You know this because I have been obsessing about it.  You are all being so kind and sympathetic/empathetic and yet soon you will be over it and I will need to get it together.  Or more likely, pretend to get it together.  I am trying to keep it in perspective - I really am!

I promise that I understand that I have not lost a child.  I understand that she is entering a new exciting stage in her life and I AM happy for her!  As my sister said to me, in these times of so much tragedy involving children I am blessed to have the family I have at the age and stage they are and need to find joy in the moment.  I get it, I do!

And yet I find myself grieving all the same.  Grieving parts of MY life that are over.  I am sorry if that makes me self centered, but we moms need to allow ourselves some attention too.  We need to let ourselves feel.  I have been desperately trying to NOT cry all week, but at what cost?  All I have gotten for my efforts are days of migraine headaches and binge eating. And guess what?  Still sad!

This week I have NOT looked at old pictures. going through a musical montage in my mind of magical moments with my perfect angel child.  (Obviously I would cut out all of the tantrums, attitude problems and whining!)  I really did try to stay away from all of the tear jerker pit falls.  And then the Disney Channel ruined it.

Truthfully it was bound to happen.  The fact that I was actively NOT being sad wasn't working even a little.  I have had a constant lump in my throat and burning eyes.  I have known that at any moment I would snap and it would probably be a while before I could stop sobbing and rocking in the corner.  So I just kept moving and doing, like nothing was happening.  But today it was quiet in the house, too quiet.  DANGEROUSLY quiet.  Noticeably missing was a little voice telling me everything that entered her head.  And I started to sniffle.  No!  I mustn't be weak!  I'll turn on the TV, background noise will help!  And there it was, "Sofia the First".  Friday morning, 9am - the time they show new episodes.  And I immediately began to call Reagan so she could come watch.  But she wasn't there,  she was at school having a wonderful new adventure, exactly as she should be doing.  And.  I.  Lost.  It.

Days of pent up tears and grief that I finally had to embrace.  The first stage of mine and my child's relationship is over and guess what?  I'm going to let myself grieve about it's passing.  I will allow myself to feel loss, because I HAVE lost something.  Those first few years of childhood are special and they don't come back.  Day after day of Target trips and having your little one "helping' you clean while constantly chattering, sitting down for a moment and having them climb on your lap and snuggle. Those little things are SO special!  I have cherished them with each of my children and have been heartbroken when all three of my children "graduated" from this stage.

I want to say I know it gets better.  But in truth, I am graduating as well.  Before, there were always more little ones at home, which helped immensely.  This time though, there is no one.  I have to come to grips with the fact that I don't have little kids anymore.  My life is changing, regardless of the fact that I have firmly planted my feet on the ground, screaming "Nooooo!".  And I have to be OK with it.  Even though I'm not.  At all.

So maybe this is when I have my mid-life crises?  My face the music moment?  Do I go back to pursuing some old dreams?  Do I come up with new ones?  How do I make sure that I am now keeping my life full, without the all consuming joy of raising small children?  Because for me?  THAT was my dream.  I wanted to be a mom.  (Oh wait, here's our Donna moment!!)  Obviously not every moment was perfection.  There were days that felt like they would never end!  There was screaming and CONSTANT talking and exhaustion.  But it was SO worth it.  (And yes, I am still a mom and adore my children and I know they still need me.  But it's different now.)

I don't know, maybe one could compare this to being fired from your dream job.  It's over, but not by YOUR choice.  You still want to get up tomorrow, pack up your laptop and drive off to the job you love.  The job you were MEANT to do.  The job that frankly, you are quite good at doing!!  But you can't.  They won't let you go back.  And it hurts.  A lot.

Did Donna even OWN a plunger....or a toilet?

Too many days...SO MANY DAYS, I find myself wielding a plunger before 8am.  It's gross, I know.  Imagine how I feel, with delusions of my perfect Donna hair, heels and pearls heroically fighting the reality of my situation.  Demoralizing I tell you.

Which bodes the questions - how to handle the ickiness that is motherhood with the perky, fun attitude I am so desperately striving for?  Of course the obvious thing to do is look back at my idol, Donna.  How did SHE handle it?  Yeah........she didn't.  Ever.  She never uttered the word plunger, toilet or vomit.  I never saw her gagging while cleaning up a post birthday party explosion.  I did not see her trying to decide if she should wash the sheets at 3am or just throw them out, cuz some things are just too awful to deal with at that hour.

Perhaps I need to try the "Fake it, till you make it" concept.  I will PRETEND that I am NOT trying not to throw up into the very toilet I am trying to unclog.  (Achieving this only due to the fact that I would have yet another mess to clean up.)  I will smile a maniacal Sheldon Cooper grin while answering child 2's questions and complaints regarding dinner, as I try not to lose my own lunch over the stomach flu mess, child #3 has created.  Perhaps I will even have a frilly, pink apron that I throw on for just these occasions.  (I'd say heels as well, but that could create a slipping hazard and no amount of faking it could handle that gross-ocity.)

Then again I could try the "Wait until your father gets home!" tactic.  Just shut whatever door needs to be shut - and then go make a meat loaf.  Upon my hard working, attractive husband's arrival I will greet him with a kiss - and a HAZMAT suit.  I have read that men like to feel needed.  This should do the trick.  A nice little ego boost.  Unfortunately, I am fairly certain that my husband would find this a less than lovely way to feel needed, plus he travels.  If I waited for him to fix the problem - well, that would just be nasty.

So, OK.  The new plan for the new year.  Handle it myself (I am woman, hear me roar!), wear cute apron over baggy flannel pj's to keep spirits up, NO HEELS, and try not to look like I hate every part of being a mommy while stomping from bathroom to bathroom looking for the plunger.  'Cuz I don't hate it.  At all.  And every can of Resolve used while trying not to breathe is worth it.  But there is a reason The Donna Reed Show never addressed this subject.  Luckily for you - I'm no Donna Reed ...yet!

If you aren't going to put on your pearls, can you at least put on....pants?

Mid calf skirt, collared shirt - perhaps with a sweater. high heels and the obligatory pearl necklace.  The uniform of 1950-s sitcom housewives.  Always ready to receive guests or collect the packages/milk from the occasional delivery boy.  Hair perfectly done for the day before even thinking of waking up her beloved family.  A bit much for every day?  Perhaps.  Or maybe not.  Maybe when women started wearing pants and (god forbid) kept the pearls tucked away for special occasions, it was the beginning of what I saw today.  If so, I am begging you - bring back the skirts and pearls ladies!!  Because the story I am about to tell you is both horrifying, and true.

Once upon a time (today) in a far away land (Charlotte) a young (40 - ish) woman and her precious (OK, that's true) daughter went to the world's greatest store - Super Target.  She only needed to pick up a few things for a birthday party and also buy a pair of shorts from a lady in the parking lot.  (But that's another story.)  This "young" woman was not by any means dressed up, but did manage to put on....clothes.  This may seem like an obvious conclusion that you didn't need to have told to you.  That is not true.  For you see friends, in front of the (OK we'll stop calling her young) woman there were two friends.  They appeared to be in their 30's.  They seemed nice, and friendly.  And they also looked as if someone had forced them out of bed at gunpoint, refusing to allow them to so much as look at a hairbrush before dragging and shoving them to the local shopping center.  However, since these woman seemed happy enough, that can't be what happened.  Therefore, I have come up with my own scenario as to how such a thing would happen.  I am fairly certain this is exactly how it occurred:

Friend One arrives at Friend Two's home.  Friend Two "Oh, I'm so sorry!  I must have overslept!  I am not ready for our weekly trip we make together to "the Target"!  Hold on, let me get dressed!"  Friend One- "No worries, you look fine!"  Friend Two - "Really? You don't think anyone will notice my rather tight, pajama shorts with the little flowers on  them?  And you think this men's undershirt is good?  I mean, sure you have one on too with YOUR fancy pajama bottoms, but your has SLEEVES.  So you know.  It's fine.  Even with those stains there.  And there.  And over there."  Friend One - "It's all good!  Just throw on a short jean jacket over the top.  Don't worry about buttoning the jacket either."  Friend Two - "OK, well, this shirt is see through and wow - REALLY tight, I'll just go get on some sort of undergarment."  Friend One - "No, no.  You're being silly!  It's JUST Target!  Nobody dresses up for Target!"  Friend Two -  "Well, if you say so.  But I will just go ahead and fix my hair. I see you are still sporting yesterday`s ponytail, but maybe I'll brush mine."  Friend One-  "Nah, just put a cute cloth wrap over that shower cap you have on.  It'll be presh!"  Two minutes later..... Friend Two - "Ok, let me grab my shoes."  Friend One "Why?  Those slippers look so comfortable.  And they're moccasin style, so I don't think anyone can tell they are slippers.  You look great!  Let's go out in public, because this isn't at all strange!"

So there you go.  Somewhere along the way, women's daily attire got a little - bad .  We've gone from skirts and cute sweaters to shower caps and slippers.  We need to fight this ladies.  We CAN look cute AND shop for toothpaste.  You SHOULD look in the mirror before going out in public.  I am not asking you to wear pearls and heels to the store..... but I am asking you to wear pants.

Plug your ears, Suze Orman. This is gonna' hurt a little.

I do not take care of the finances in our home.  It was tried once.  And it ended quickly and unpleasantly.  I am horrible at math.  I am also sadly unorganized.  Combine those two personality traits and you have a seriously messed up check book.  Frankly, it still isn't great, thanks to that pesky task of actually entering things into the checkbook.  Sadly, I can't even get all the receipts into THE DRAWER that is supposed to hold all things financial.  I hate THE DRAWER.  I REALLY  hate seeing my husband heading purposefully towards THE DRAWER.  I promise I don't mess things up on purpose.  What is really sad is the months when I am proudly waiting for my "atta girl", but instead get the usual list of everything I have forgotten to put in "THE DRAWER" that month.  And it is even longer than the month before.  It seems the only way it will get better is if I stop spending money.  Which means it will likely never get better.

As a result I do not know a lot about our bills.  My stomach tightens up when a friend (who clearly has her act together and is on top of all things money in HER home) casually asks about, say - the electric bill.  I frantically search my brain for anything I might have heard my husband mumble about while opening the mail.  I always end up responding with a vague "oh my gosh it has gotten so bad lately", which is usually all I need to say to sound like I have a clue.  As opposed to the reality, which is that she might as well be having this conversation with my 8 year old.

Now, I know this ignorance is bliss thing is bad.  How do I know?  Oprah told me.  Well, actually Oprah's good pal Suze told me.   She told me I was doing myself a disservice.  That if anything suddenly happened to my husband I would be blindsided. I figured I would be grief stricken and maybe should be listening to Oprah's other friend, Phil in regards to this but no matter.  It was Suze I was getting that day.  For a minute I was scared.  Would we be OK?  Were the bills so bad that the girls and I would be on the street before the end of the funeral service?  But then I remembered - he has life insurance.  And a lot of it.  Yep, THAT financial conversation I payed attention to.

Which means that the only reason I HAVE to know specifics about the bills is so that I can be a Modern Independent Woman.  Well, as we all know - this is not a goal of mine.  However, after an hour of Suze harping on me, I went over and grabbed the checkbook.  Nothing too surprising.  I mean, just because I forget to tell Jason how much I spend on shopping or lunch out, doesn't mean I don't know about it.  And as far as the bills go, I didn't see how knowing that we spent $20 more on electric this month than last was going to help me a whole lot.  I have the general idea of our finances.  Things are tight enough to feel slightly uncomfortable, but not enough to live in actual fear.  No remodeling the kitchen or a new car any time soon.  Got it.  All I was doing was taking away what precious spare time I had, to do something really boring.

I can't remember Donna Reed taking care of the bills.  She may have.  I am pretty good at blocking out things that might make me feel like I am doing something wrong.  But I really don't think she did.  I mean how cute and perky can you be, pouring over the family finances.  She had better things to do, like make evening coffee to serve with the home made cookies during her nightly catch up time with her happy, handsome, doctor husband.

So, I give up.  As much as I would like to be on top of the finances, it won't happen.  Or rather, it can't happen.  And actually, I had felt like this was some sort of failure. A failure as the picture perfect wife and mom I strive to be.  But then again, ultimately it is about the example I give my daughters.  And trying to do something and failing is always better than not trying, right?  So fine, we'll scratch "Financial Guru" from my list of domestic titles.  I can live with that. But let me tell you - I have MAD laundry skills.  Just sayin'.......

Ramblings Of An Unapologetic Non-Feminist

I was born in the wrong decade. This is not news to anyone who knows me well. When I was little, I wanted to be a wife and mom.  That was it.  No doctor, lawyer or God forbid - president of the United States. I wanted to wear dresses all the time - still do.  I loved everything girly and had little or no interest in being given the same "privileges" that the boys got. Gym class? No thanks.  The right to try out for the varsity football team? I think not.  Having a job to go to every afternoon so that I could pay my own way on dates?  Nope, not interested.  I'd rather just go to the malt shop after school with my girlfriends where we will giggle,squeal and talk about the boys we like.  Work on that AP homework so that I can get into a good college?  To what end?  I certainly didn't need that to get MY dream job. Though maybe I would go to college for a year or so.  Take a couple of "girly"courses and meet my future husband.

I am sorry if I have horrified any of you.  I am happy you all had the rights to do what you wanted. It just hasn't worked out that great for me.  Sure SOME things are fantastic.  Obviously I am glad to have the right to vote.  I am thankful that girls are allowed as much education as they want. I think it's great that I CAN wear jeans without being stared at.  As the mother of three daughters I am happy with all of the freedoms they are allowed.

But here's the thing, I don't really think we have EVERY freedom. We are allowed the freedom to move "forward".  We can have careers AND a family.  Or just a career, if we would rather.  But the freedom to be "just" a mom and housewife?  Not so much.  (Yes, I used the word housewife.  No, it does not offend me.  I do not think it sounds as if I am married to the house.)  In today's world it is VERY hard to have the ability to be home taking care of the house, kids and husband.  Somewhere along the way, we lost the ability to live comfortably on one income per family.  When we got the "right" to work outside of the home it didn't take long for women to NEED to work outside of the home.  Bummer....

I myself am a wife, mother, part time preschool teacher and child care provider. I am also currently learning how to sew in the hopes of having some sort of business of my own that I can do from home.  And still money is tight.  Trying to stay home with my kids at least until kindergarten has been a struggle.  My husband tells me that I work harder doing all these jobs together than I would if I just had one full time job.  Probably.  But I am just not ready to give up on MY American Dream yet.

If I am going to be honest, I probably don't want to be a 1950's housewife.  I want to be a TV sitcom 1950's housewife.  I want to stay home with the kids and take care of the house - except not really.  The kids, yes.  I'll have that covered.  But somehow those television wives of days gone by also got a cleaning lady. Which is FANTASTIC!! I HATE housework.  I know, right?  This doesn't fit into my self proclaimed dream of being a housewife. (That's right, I said it again!)  But it DOES, if you watch all of the old shows.  I will straighten up the house, cook, and do the dishes.  I'll know how to sew my own curtains and frilly little throw pillows.  But while I am off volunteering and serving on my various committees, some happy, bubbly little cleaning dynamo will be scrubbing my toilets and dusting my children's rooms.  I will of course, get up early so that my husband has an attractive, wide awake wife bringing him his coffee in bed and starting his shower for him.  Are you kidding me?  If I didn't have to do all of the cleaning and struggling to make ends meet - IMAGINE how much perkier I would be!

So yes, my dream is flawed.  I know that medical advances and technology is way better now, blah blah blah.  However, that is not what this blog is about.  It is about me trying to be a 1950's wife in the year 2012.  As I try to learn to cook, sew, become a better housewife (have you stopped cringing when I say that yet??) and most importantly raise a family with "old school" morals, values and happiness. (Insert laugh track here.)  Follow my blog as I try to follow my dream - to be Donna Reed.