You’re Doing a Great Job!

by Julie Davidson

I’ve recently connected with a woman through my blogging. That’s the cool part about technology. You can be in touch with someone instantly. But the cooler part is finding a common bond with that person. And I recently have with this woman.

She responded to one of my blogs about trying to run again. Turns out she is a stay-at-home mom who used to do triathlons. She was inspired my efforts to get running. But she was frustrated that her level of running wasn’t what it had been previous to having kids.

In one email to me, she thanked me for writing to her. She commented how isolating it can feel staying at home. Oh how I recall those days. I felt that I was out of every loop I had ever been in. In the beginning, it was as if my every move was dictated by my baby. When I ate and slept, how much I ate and slept. It all depended on that tiny little being wanting me for virtually every need.

And it can seem like the to-do list never ends. When I stayed at home, I wondered if I was doing a good job. There were no coworkers to ask how to do this. And who gives you that big promotion? I felt as if every creative asset I had once had was gone. I thought that sweatpants were totally in fashion. Or I was too tired to care. Girl’s night was on perpetual hold. I was grateful just to be able to chat with my best friend in five-minute increments throughout the week. It felt like a toss up. I could do either my hair or makeup, but rarely both. Puke laundry became a regular part of the routine. If mold wasn’t creeping along the baseboards, the house was clean enough.

We don’t have kids so other people can tell us what a fabulous job we are doing. But it sure feels good to have someone tell us that. A little validation goes a long way. If you know of someone who’s mom, let them know you think they are doing a great job. But please don’t say one word about her sweatpants.

Life Gets Blurry

by Julie Davidson

When the boys were babies, I recall having a bathing schedule. I think we bathed them three or four times a week. Somewhere between them being two and seven years old, we kinda got soft on that schedule. I’m not proud of that—just being honest.

They love taking baths ’cause they like to play in the tub and sit in there forever. That’s exactly why we prefer them to take showers. But it’s like pulling teeth to get them to shower. About a month ago, the boys had a friend over after soccer practice. When his mom came to pick him up I told Max it was time to shower, and he defiantly replied, “Again? I just took a shower two weeks ago!” I didn’t even want to look the other mother in the face. Yeah, time to get back to that schedule.

Earlier this week when Max begged to take a bath, I let him. We’d been on vacation, and there was a good chance he’d picked up a fair amount of dirt between here and the Grand Canyon. No sooner did he hop in the tub then we could hear him swishing that water around. My husband told him to keep the water in the tub. More swishing.

“What are you doing in there?” I yelled from the other room.

“I’m getting cleaned up,” he said.

Later that night, my I could hear my husband grumble from the bathroom. The kind of grumble that tells me to brace myself for bad news. Water (murky water) was backed up in the tub. He’s not a plumber, but he knew immediately that something must have gone down the drain. He tried Drano. Didn’t work. He tried to snake the drain. Nope. Then he tried talking to the kid. He asked Max what he did with the washcloth he used. Max said he wasn’t sure. That answer didn’t change much over the next 24 hours. Neither did the standing water in the tub.

Finally, I asked Max if he put the washcloth down the drain. He looked and me and said, “I don’t know. Maybe, but I can’t be sure because Dad put bubbles in the water for me. Things were kinda blurry.”

I could tell he was being honest. And I really love the “blurry” part. How many times have we come across situations in life when things aren’t clear? Marriage. Going back to school. Buying a home. Taking a new job. Dealing with health issues. The list is practically endless. Who knows. Maybe life is one big blurry spot with a few clear moments in between.

Is It Hot in Here?

by Julie Davidson

A few months ago, I woke up in the middle of the night. I was hot. Like burning from the inside out hot. Like I’d been working out hot. But I hadn’t been working out. I had been enjoying deep sleep—until I was so rudely awakened by my hotness. No, unfortunately not hotness like Beyonce or Kate Moss. I’m talking flushed, damp, sweaty hot. Nice visual, huh?

Looking for relief, I kicked off the sheets. No relief there. I turned on the fan. Still hot. Finally, convinced that I had a fever, I dragged my butt out of bed and took my temperature. Exactly 98.6 degrees.

Then I couldn’t sleep, so I did what any wide awake gotta-know-what-is-wrong-with-me-now wife would do. I got back in bed and drove my husband crazy. “Is it warm in here? Do you think the heat is too high?” I asked, waking him up from what was probably a perfectly good night’s sleep. I kept placing my hand on his back looking to see if he had some cool spots. Ahhh…he feels perfect, I thought.

At some point, it was suggested that I was having a hot flash. Hot flash? Oh man. Those are reserved for ladies going through menopause, right? I’ve got young kids. I couldn’t be going through menopause. I simply don’t have the time. You know? I have more important things to do.

So the next day, still reeling from the “hot” episode, I decided to get to the bottom of things. Yeah, I should have called the Doctor. Instead, I Goolged “Symptoms of Menopause.” Holy….I couldn’t believe it. I’m thinking there’s gonna be like five symptoms. Wrong. The list I found had 35 symptoms. That’s five plus 30! I thought my sweaty legs (or “swegs” as the young interns at work hipped me to) were bad. This list had things I’d never imagined, like “changes in fingernails, itchy, crawly, skin.” How about “disturbing memory lapses, and dry vagina.” Dry vagina? Oh but that’s okay, I might work that out via the “ increased incontinence.”

Obviously, I made a wrong turn by searching the web. But I do remember after giving birth feeling like I could do anything. I’m praying there’s a kernel of truth to that, because if this menopause list is even close to accurate, I’m expecting everything!

Itchy. Crawley. Skin. Really?

Always an Adventure

by Julie Davidson

The day of our big vacation I got an email update from the airline stating that our flight from Minneapolis to Denver was delayed. Nice. We weren’t even on the first leg of the trip and already it was a game of “hurry up and wait.”

The flight from Milwaukee to Minneapolis was only about 40 minutes, but a very exciting 40 minutes it turned out to be. Fifteen minutes into the flight, we heard a loud bang. It was one of those “what the heck was that” banging noises. I looked across the aisle to my husband who motioned with his hands to stay calm. While I was working on being calm, the captain came over the loud speaker. “Folks we’ve had some engine problems. We are now on the reserve engine.” I was so freaked out that honestly I’m not even sure what he said after that. I suppose it was something about how everything was fine. Before I could digest this new found information, the captain was back on the loud speaker.

“It looks like everything is going smoothly considering the engine issue. But just as a precaution we’ve asked the Fire Department to meet us at the airport upon arrival.” After that, I kept looking out the window and checking out the long stretches of highway and corn fields, thinking We could land there…that looks good.

My husband and I decided not to tell the boys what was going on. They were having a ball, looking at the clouds and thinking of all the adventures that would await them on the rest of the trip.

And it was an adventure. It was beautiful and scary at the same time. There was a raft trip that made me realize how strong the Colorado River is, and why driving is my preferred mode of transportation. There was a shiny Momma moose that stared us down so hard we decided it was best not to even glimpse at her cute mooslings or whatever they’re called. There was a dog bite and two black widow sightings. And canyons so beautiful I knew we had to be within inches of Heaven, but so high I could barley look down.

We’re all in one piece. Maybe it’s just that parental nervousness that takes us away momentarily from the place we’re supposed to be. But even when things don’t go the way we planned, it makes for some great memories and story-telling. And the kids are beginning to see that they can make it through adversity. Now when things get tough my husband and I say, “Suck it up. We lost an engine. We can get through this.”

Scoot, Mom, Scoot

by guest blogger Julie Davidson

Remember how easy it was to lose those pounds after having babies? Yeah, me neither. But I am trying to get in shape. And though my oldest is well-meaning, it doesn’t help that he is a total believer of every commercial he sees. “Hey, Mom, look at this commercial! You can lose 10 pounds in two weeks. Is that what you need?”

So a friend from work mentioned this running program called From the Couch to 5K. I was mainly intrigued by the couch part. It’s basically a graduated running program. I’m certainly not trying to run a 5K. But I am trying to get off the couch more.

Admittedly, I was embarrassed to start running. It really isn’t a good visual. In my younger years, I had this great stride and was carefree. Now I take small steps, and I’m nervous to step on something the wrong way and twist my ankle. I imagine my neighbors watching me from inside their home and trying to describe what they see. “No honey, she’s not running. It’s more like a scoot.”

But I have been surprised by the camaraderie among runners. Sort of like Harley riders. Without the motorcycle. And without the leather gear. Okay okay. What I mean is that other runners (I mean the ones that are really running—the non-scooters) make a point to give me a nod or say hello. And whenever another runner acknowledges me all I can think is Cool! They think I’m one of them.

The other day, three women were running in my direction. They were laughing and carrying on. There I was hardly able to keep a steady breath, let alone speak. Then one of them gave me a smile and a wave. As much as I was ready to stop my run for the day, I waited till they were out of my view before I came to a halt. I didn’t want them thinking they’d wasted a wave and a hello on some second-rate runner.

The best part for me about running is that my kids want to join me. They like to ride their bikes while Mommy scoots behind them. Seeing as how I am unable to speak and run at the same time, I came up with hand signals for stop, slow down, keep going. I probably need one for “Mommy needs oxygen,” but I think they’ll figure that one out.