Baby Squared : writing

Activity of the Week: Happy Birthday To You

Roper — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 11:06:00 GMT

I haven't done an 'Activity of the Week' in a while, I guess because with the weather being better and the girls being more self-sufficient, it hasn't been as much of a challenge to figure out ways to keep them entertained. And actually, this particular activity is one that they pretty much came up and do all by themselves. I just keep them supplied with the necessary materials, and suggest helpful enhancements from time to time, when they'll let me.

See, Clio and Elsa are obsessed with birthdays. This began shortly after their own birthday, back at the end of the December, and kicked into high gear when they went to their friend Amelia's 2nd birthday in Februrary. The obsession has manifested itself in a variety of ways: first, they just sang the Birthday Song constantly. Then, they started constantly asking for / calling everything sweet "Happy to you" cake. (We successfully introduced the idea of *pretend* happy to you cake, as well.) Then, for a while, they wanted us to draw birthday cakes for them. If you looked through our recycling bin anytime this March through May, you would find page upon page of crayon drawings of birthday cakes -- usually double tiered, with lots of fancy, squiggly decorations, and candles, of course. (I really honed my birthday cake-drawing technique. If for some reason you ever need a drawing of a birthday cake, I'm your gal.)

Now, the big birthday activity is making "Happy birthday to yous" -- their term for birthday presents. It's quite simple: you take a piece of paper, draw on or a put a sticker on it if you like, and carefully crumple it up. Then, you hand it to the nearest adult and say "I made you a happy birthday to you!" As the lucky adult recipient, it's your job to say, "Oh, wow! It's beautiful! Thank you!" and carefully unwrap it to reveal -- nothing. (I tried, once, to introduce the idea of wrap little things up inside their "presents" --- toys, legos, etc. -- but that just pissed them off. They obviously know what they're doing.) One thing I have contributed to this game, which they like, is giving them new materials to work with -- aluminum foil, construction paper, wrapping paper scraps, pages torn from old magazines, bows, etc. This, they like. But pretty much, they just like me to hang out and do my own thing -- check email, do the dishes, sweep the floor, etc. -- while they work, then act very excited when they hand me the treasure they've created. It's a pretty freakin' good activity.

We added birthday hats to the mix yesterday, which as a hit, until Clio snapped herself with the elastic.

Happy to you!!

Thanks, by the way, to everyone for your sage thoughts and advice on my last post. It's great hearing about different people's experiences and perspectives. I think those who said that a happy mom = a better mom really hit the nail on the head. I am definitely more patient and focused with the girls when I feel like I'm getting the time and space I need for my writing. It would make me so proud -- and I hope it would make them proud, too -- to one day be able to show Elsa and Clio a book and say, "Your mommy wrote this." And tell them that they can and should do what they can to follow their bliss in life, too, whatever it may be. (Birthday party planning, perhaps?)

My Writing Mother Guilt

Roper — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 00:17:00 GMT

Katie Allison Granjau over at Home/Work just wrote a great post about her Summertime Working Mother's Guilt. I've been wrestling alot with my feelings about my work / family balance, too, specifically as it pertains to my fiction and nonfiction writing -- a.k.a. the part of my work that doesn't pay me shite in monetary terms, but that I truly love, and dream of making at least part of a living at someday.

I've always felt extremely fortunate to have a situation where I can work part time (25-30 hrs/week) at a well-paid job-job that I really enjoy ("love" would be slightly too strong a word....it is advertising, after all) AND have time to be with the girls AND sneak in some time to write my own stuff, including this blog, AND even watch the occasional DVR-ed episode of 30 Rock. It's been tricky at times to maintain the balance, but mostly I've managed. Lately, though, it feels like it's gotten a lot harder to fit everything in.

My workload and responsibilities at work are, more and more frequently, oozing out beyond my set hours. (There's a reason why almost nobody works part-time at an ad agency; it's just not a punch-the-clock kind of job.) At the same time, taking care of the girls -- and their attendant needs -- seems to be taking up more time. They nap less and go to bed later. They make bigger messes. They eat more. (Does anyone else feel like they basically LIVE at the grocery store? Jeez!) As a result of all this, I'm finding less and less time to do my own writing. Because when I have to choose between two of the three things -- the job that pays the bills, my family, and my writing -- it's always the writing that gets the shaft.

Recently, though, we've been talking about the possibility of shifting our babysitter's schedule around so that on Wednesday afternoons, when I normally take care of the girls and Alastair works, I could write instead. That's potentially four or five extra hours of writing time per week, which would be awesome. And isn't really that much less time with the girls in the grand scheme of things. So....why do I feel guilty about the prospect?

I really could use another big chunk of writing time on a regular basis. Trying to squeeze in an hour here and there is fine to an extent, but to truly make progress, particularly when it comes to longer pieces, I need those bigger stretches. On the other hand, a part of me wonders if I shouldn't be trying so hard to make time for writing in general. Maybe I should put that part of my life on hold for a few years -- or at least scale back more significantly -- and get back into it when the girls are slightly less high maintenance and slightly less adorable. (But do they ever get less high maintenance or less adorable, in one way or another?)

If we make this change, I'll still have 3-day weekends with the girls. And I usually get home from work at a reasonable hour so I can hang out with the girls for a bit and put them to bed. For a lot of moms who work full time outside the home, neither of these things is possible. But I like the fact that I'm not a full-time working mom. At the same time -- and maybe this is where the guilt kicks in -- as much as I love my girls, I really don't miss them that much when I'm working, whether I'm at my "real" job or upstairs in my office writing.

I mean, sure -- I'm always happy to see them when I'm done. But it's not like I'm sitting there thinking "Gosh, I'd rather be out at the playground or drawing with sidewalk chalk or refereeing whiney toy disputes." I mean, I'd hate it if I NEVER got to do those things. But I don't feel the need to be doing them more than I already am. And I feel like maybe I could even handle a little less, if it meant I could make more headway on the work that I'm passionate about.

I know that some women love being with their children as much as possible, and hate that they have to go back to work. I know -- and have always known -- that that's not me. I also know that I would never make the choice to spend so much time and energy on my career(s) that I barely ever got to see my children. But here I am in sort of a middle zone, where it's harder to draw the lines and make the choices and figure out what I really want -- or what I really ought to do.

How do you draw the line between selfish and self-preservation? How do you process the working / parenting dilemma? Any parents of older kids out there, have you regretted any of your choices after the fact?

Sorry this is such a rambly and, probably, repetitive post. Not one of my more eloquent efforts. But who's got time to edit??!

PS -- speaking of the writing / parenting balancing act, a couple of Father's Day-related events in the Boston area from my friend and former Babble Blogger Steve Almond,. On June 9th at 6pm, a panel discussion on "Being a Father" with Sven Birkerts, Ben George, and Jennifer Boylan at the Brattle Theatre in Cambridge. There's also a special Father's Day Reading @ Porter Square Books, Wednesday, June 17, 2009 at 7:00 p.m. And yes, Steve is giving me free chocolate in exchange for including these listings in my blog. I can always be bribed with chocolate.

Did you have a good time?

Roper — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 01:10:00 GMT

(An interview with myself)

I caught up with myself during the Super Bowl halftime show for a brief interview to discuss my recent trip to New York -- my first time away on my own since the babies were born. I was dressed in jeans and a rumpled gray, faux-wrap sweater, and apologized for being so tired -- I'd driven up from New York that afternoon, and had drunk a little too much and not eaten quite enough over the previous few days. After exchanging pleasantries and making chit-chat about the halftime show (could that moving neon guitar headed for the neon heart have looked any more...er...obscene? Who are those cheesy 'groupies' in the concert audience? Are they paid actors?) we got down to business.

Me: So, me, what was it like to be away from your babies for the first time?

Me, Also: You know, it was actually really great. It's not that I didn't miss them; I definitely did. But it felt really good to be on my own for a little while, just thinking about writing and my career, seeing friends, not having to think about taking care of anyone or anything. It was nice to reconnect with this part of myself I hadn't gotten to spend time with for a while, with no agenda or expectations. And, of course, I was in New York City, which kicks ass. Honestly, I was kind of giddy the whole time. Even mundane things -- sleeping until 8:30 a.m., walking down the street alone, poking into shops, buying a hot dog from a vendor on the street -- felt like a big adventure.

Me: It sounds like you didn't really *suffer* at all. Or feel guilty. Or wish you'd stayed home. What kind of mother does that make you, Jane?

M.A.: A happy, well-balanced one?

Me: Right. That's very post-post-feminist of you. Very empowered, or something. Anyway. What were some of the highlights of the trip?

M.A.: Gosh, me, there were so many. I visited the Babble.com headquarters and saw Ada and Gwynne, the editors, which was really nice. I went to a reading and book release party for a guy named Toby Barlow who wrote a novel in blank verse about werewolves in L.A. called Sharp Teeth. At the conference, I saw some wonderful writers speak and read. I saw old friends, met new ones, and even got to hang out and shoot the shit with (gulp!) Russell Banks. I went to MOMA, which was amazing. I can't believe I'd never gone before; it was incredible to see so many great, celebrated works of art in one place, up close. Like Jasper Johns's [sic] American flag: I'd seen pictures of it, but it's not the same as seeing it live. Did you know there's all this newspaper gessoed onto the canvas? It has so much texture. You can't just can't see that in a photograph.

Me: Um, right. That's really interesting. But I don't hear you talking about Elsa and Clio. Weren't you thinking about them at all?

M.A.: Sure. I was thinking about how much I want to bring them to museums and talk with them about art when they're older. I bought them a book -- "Andy Warhol's Colors" -- in the gift shop. I saw a mom and her 2-year-old twins and talked to her and told her how much I missed my kids, and how nice it was to see her there with hers.

Me: And then what? You went back to your hotel room and looked at pictures of the babies and called Alastair and sobbed quietly into your pillow?

M.A.: Um, well, actually, no. I went to my room and changed, did my hair, went down to the hotel bar and had a drink and talked with some people I knew from my MFA program, then went with a friend to a bar downtown called the Crocodile Lounge, where you get a free pizza with every drink you buy. (Sweet!) Then we went back to the hotel and went to a dance party. And then, feeling socialized-out, I went back to my room and read for a while, then went to bed.

Me: That sounds really selfish. I mean, nice.

M.A.: You know, I didn't have to agree to do this interview. I could be watching the game. Not that I give a shit about football, but it is the Patriots. And I work in advertising, so I should be paying attention to the commercials. But instead, here I am giving you my time and you're passively-aggressively asking me to justify myself---

Me: No, you're right. You're totally right. I'm sorry. It's just that -- well, I haven't done a lot of interviews, and I guess I'm kind of nervous. I'm sorry.

M.A.: Well, thank you for that. I appreciate it. (Awkward pause.) Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?

Me: No, no. Oh--wait. Well, yes, actually: just one more thing. What was it like to come home to the girls and Alastair?

M.A.: It was even better than the trip.

Me: Which is saying a lot, isn't it?

M.A.: Yes. Exactly.

Me: I feel like we really understand each other. Like we really connect, you know?

M.A.: Now you're pushing it.