Summer Love

Settling into motherhood has been the most challenging, emotional, exhausting, fulfilling, and beautiful journey. One of the best things about the trip has been my renewed and deepened appreciation for the simplest joys in life...home-cooked family dinners, eskimo kisses, singing, dancing, and acting silly, ice cream, uncontrollable laughter, and playing in the sprinkler. This summer, I have tried to work less and focus more on family life and make the most of each moment spent with Willa. I hope to be teaching her that it doesn't take extravagant activities or pricey toys to enjoy each day to the fullest. She is growing and changing before my very eyes and every day learns something new. Her vocabulary and understanding of things amaze us. She is on the verge of speaking in complete sentences and uses many multi-word phrases, such as "Mommy, paci, please." "Where kitty cat go?" "Mommy, read story." C'mon, Mommy, get up!" and has taken fondly to repeating the word, "No" over and over and over again. She loves to play with her baby dolls and is so sweet and nurturing with them - swaddling, offering her lovie, rocking, patting, kissing. I hope she's so sweet with a sibling, because that, friends, is a 'project' we're about to embark on - it feels like the right time.

Mothers:

Happy Mother's Day to my dear mother, mom-in-law, stepmom, and Omie! And also to all my friends and momrades out there. (mom+comrades=cheesy made-up word) I'd like to devote this pretty poppy arrangement to you. I hope you're all putting your feet up today, at least long enough to catch up on the many new posts on this here blog.

Here I Go Again With My Feelings...

So this is what they meant when the economists warned that things would get worse before they'd get better. My little shop is holding strong, but it's taking everything I've got, like working overtime, carefully pouring over orders to ensure that I have made the best buys, spending most of my time on the sales floor, and keeping my payroll to a minimum by doing as much as I can myself. I go to work with a smile on my face because through it all, I thoroughly enjoy what I do, but times are tough. My sales this year have been relatively good, considering the retail closures that abound, but I am still struggling to recoup from my fourth quarter overshoot. Every penny counts, as does every potential customer that walks through the door, and that pressure is draining my usual upbeat spirits. The worst part is that I worry night and day that I am cheating Willa and that annoying maternal guilt has resurfaced. I wonder if this guilt is normal, common among all mothers. My closest friends who are mothers describe having the same feelings, but maybe we're just all same-feathered birds that have naturally flocked together. As I discussed a new scheduling arrangement with Billie Jean today, I reminded myself for the umpteenth time, just how fortunate I have been to have had so much time with Willa, more than most working moms could ever dream of having. And I hope that once that perk gets replaced with the necessity of work, I will only be grateful for having had the experience and the pleasure. It's probably silly, but I often think about the way her experiences are shaping her. I hope that in exposing Willa to my work, I am somehow, in a very early sense, instilling in her a strong work ethic, nurturing a drive for success and an appreciation for business and the value of a dollar. Even though she can't comprehend it yet, I hope that she will eventually, fully grasp and seek out the dream of doing what she loves every day and appreciate the sweet fruit of her own labor. I expect that her outgoing nature will keep blossoming and she will enjoy meeting new people throughout her life, like she is already doing in her retail experience, alongside her mom. So for right now, I am going to keep up the hard work and try to put a lid on this guilt. I'm going to try to lighten up and stop trying to have it all and do it all, to the point at which it's just not realistic, or enjoyable. Wouldn't it be great if I could channel all of that energy into shear appreciation for life and start taking it day by day? I'm going to work on that.

Let me share one more thought before I call it a night. Blogging is fantastic. I mean, where else can a person vent and whine to their heart's content, without ever having to worry about annoying their audience, because if they are truly annoyed, they'll quit reading it. Comments from readers are a fun surprise and often provide well-meaning encouragement and advice. And if ever a spoilsport drops a negative line, the blogger always gets the last word, with the power of the delete key. Putting yourself out there, emotionally, to the world, via the Worldwide Web, is liberating and satisfying. And then, of course, there is the benefit of journaling and documenting life's daily occurrences, which mundane as they may be, are still our own histories in the making. I like to think that this blog will be an entertaining read as I grow older and wiser and can look back and laugh. And for my children, this blog will serve as a collection of family memories more detailed, personal, and real than any baby book or fill-in-the-blank journal could ever be. So that's what this is all about, dear readers. Love this blog or leave it. I'll never know the difference. Blogging's a beautiful, therapeutic thing. And I highly recommend it!

No Looking Back (Can You Hear the Pangs of my Heart?)

One week ago, today, was the last time I nursed Willa. I didn't want to say anything before, because I didn't know how difficult it would be to wean her and I wasn't completely sure that that last time, was indeed, the last time. And if I think too much about it, I just get all weepy. With her being 14 months old, and a market trip without her right around the corner, I knew it was time and that dwelling on it would only make it harder. I didn't even tell Sean until it had been a couple of days. He was so sweet, didn't say much, other than, "I'm sorry...I know it must be emotional for you." (It's the greatest when they validate your feelings and just leave it at that.) Emotional, it is, but I am trying to do as my friend, Sondra, advised: looking forward to and embracing each new stage of motherhood; rather than looking back. That is some of the best advice I have received...and I'm sure it will come in handy at least a few more times along the way...a few hundred more times is more like it.

Back in my Element

I've been at work, full-time, for almost 3 weeks now. The transition has gone rather smoothly, actually, much to my surprise. Willa naps well, and behaves well at the shop. Most importantly, she and I are both enjoying our retail surroundings and each other. The shop is fully equipped with baby gear, including a crib, diapering area, play area laden with toys, endless fresh faces passing through, (even some of the baby variety), and of course Billie Jean, who does double-duty as nanny-slash-shopgirl with perfection and ease. If I'm busy with a customer or a project that requires my full attention, Billie Jean quietly takes over with Willa, playing, teaching, snacking, changing, visiting the neighbors, taking in the sun and watching the cars go by from the front porch.

Another thing that has been good for me is having Willa's crib in my office. She sleeps for a large part of the work day, which keeps me out of there and on the sales floor - where I am most valuable. My motivation is at a high and I am feeling inspired about the upcoming market and spring selling season. My head is full of ideas for updating our shamefully outdated website, and I've even created a Root blog to post new arrivals and shop news. For the first time in a long while, I feel like I'm on top of it, from the big things (properly budgeting my inventory) to the small things (promptly returning phone calls or better yet - taking them.) I am thoroughly enjoying being back in the game and realize just how much I've missed it...the merchandising and display, the everyday flow of inventory and cash that comes in and goes right back out, and especially the interaction with customers. I had almost forgotten how crazy I am about my job. Whether I am relishing in an accomplishment, or strategizing in an economic downturn, I am always happily in my element. My physical presence at the shop has nudged me into a routine that is more balanced. I've annoyed us all with my whining about my quest for balance between work and motherhood. And I actually found the answer where I never thought to look. Working more, and smarter (not harder) has alleviated the burden of guilt, stress, and worry that I have been carrying around with me. I am sleeping better, thinking more clearly, and feeling more like myself. When it comes to Willa, I am more focused and relaxed. Those feelings of maternal inadequacy have finally begun to subside. Willa must have noticed, because she seems more comfortable too. So things are very good, with the exception of the number of posts I've been turning out lately. A wise woman told me earlier, "you're always going to slack at something." Best it be blogging, I suppose.

New Year:New Game Plan

Yesterday, Jordan told me that she has decided to take a step back from her managerial role at Root and into a situation that will better suit her life with the new baby, Cash. We still have to iron out the details, but she plans to set up an office at home and continue to do bookkeeping for Root and The Roadrunner, while taking on more of the same for the Bakery. She'll hone in on her expertise in finance and bookkeeping, and streamline her workload, which will promote more efficiency and productivity, increased income, and decreased stress.

Of course I am disappointed, but I completely know where she is coming from. Not only do I appreciate her tremendously as an employee, I love her dearly as a friend and want what is best for her and her family. But still, it came as a surprise and well, feels like I've gotten dumped. We both laughed through giant tears as she assured me, "it's not you, it's just me." I couldn't help but to let my emotions get the best of me and failed miserably at keeping it together.

Jordan is a huge asset to the store, and I have come to rely on her for more than either of us realized...until now. Having her there enabled me to take a much needed break and adjust to motherhood. After 7 years of doing it all myself, it was easy to hand over the reins to someone so trustworthy and competent. And even now that I'm back in the picture, having Jordan managing has allowed me to enjoy the business I've built from a completely different perspective. She gave me peace of mind that was priceless. And it was comforting to have her around to share in the trials and triumphs (of both retail and motherhood.) But over the last few weeks since she's been back from maternity leave, she has given me strength as my confidant, another working mother, determined to have both, struggling to wear two heavy hats on a single, sleep-deprived head.

There was one busy day a month or so ago, when Jordan and I worked together...with both Willa and Cash...and no other help. I won't get into the details of it, but it was challenging. Tears were shed, and not just by the babies. By closing time, I was bedraggled from the hectic day of juggling, but also filled with fresh enthusiasm and grit, a sense of post-adolescent girl-power. I felt so proud to be a devoted mother and businesswoman, and satisfied with my unwillingness to choose between the two.

Now, I know Jordan is going to read this, and I hope she takes it as it is intended, as an enormous compliment. I respect her decision and completely understand and relate.

I have to keep reminding myself, though, that she isn't quitting. She'll still be around, just less often. And she will keep on doing an amazing job, insuring that the accounts are in balance and the bills are paid, and plenty more. I'll be back in charge at the shop, with my nose to the familiar grindstone. Willa will be with me, 'cause I won't have it any other way. And it will all be just fine because it has to be.

Baby Plans in the Making

I came across these photos of a nursery designed for a Cookie Magazine Exhibit. I do love the room, but I am obsessed with the hanging bassinet. It is vintage, of course, which means that I will have to figure out a way to recreate it. If all goes according to plan, I guess I have about a year and a half to work on that. However, having Jordan and Rebekah around, flaunting their adorable, expanding bellies, is truly testing my patience. I loved being pregnant. From the "good news" to the final push, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I am certain that there were some uncomfortable and unpleasant moments during those 40 weeks, but I can't really remember them. What I do recall are the instantaneous sense of responsibility and pride, and the nervous excitement of the upcoming, life-altering event, the subtle movements of the precious being forming within, and the sweet anticipation of meeting the newest love of my life. I look forward to going through it all over again, but with less fear of the unknown and more confidence in my motherly abilities. For now, I am living vicariously through my friends, Jordan, Rebekah, Sondra, Amy, Kelly, and Heidi, who are all currently with bun!

Pobrecita

It all started that Monday with a high fever. Then a doctor's visit determined that an ear infection was the culprit. As instructed, I began alternating Children's Tylenol and Motrin for her fever and discomfort, and force-feeding her the dreaded Amoxicillin three times daily. My friends warned me about this seemingly sugary panacea and the disdain it summons in even the mildest-tempered of kids. And it's true, I've never seen Willa put up such a fight. The moment I squirted a little bit of it in her mouth, she thrusted her tongue forward, determined to push all of it right back out. When I did finally manage to get it past her tongue, she threw her head back and screamed. An awful gurgle ensued, a last ditch effort to block it from going down. And then she choked on it. This happened with each dose.

As a kid, I also hated to take my medicine. I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but because a good blogger is an honest blogger, here it goes. I can remember throwing myself onto the floor in a kicking, arm-flailing tantrum over a single dose of antibiotic, probably Amoxicillin. My mom is a softy, so she didn't really fight me too much. But my dad, on the other hand, devised a clever plan to scare me into submission. He told me that if I refused to take my medicine (orally,) he would drive me to the hospital and have a doctor give it to me in the form of a shot. I took him up on his threat, and he drove me to the hospital. From there, however, he was stumped. We sat in the parking lot for a while as my bewildered father wondered how on earth he managed to get duped by a five year old. After composing himself, he drove me back home, defeated.

So back to my little pobrecita...The antibiotic caused diarrhea and diaper rash (pretty common) and an allover body rash (not so common.) It was not an allergic reaction, the doctor assured us, unless her lips and tongue swelled. So we were to continue the antibiotic for the full ten days. Her appetite had virtually vanished. (All she would eat were Cheerios.) And her once chubby thighs were growing visibly thinner. She even developed a little congestion in her chest. But by day seven, it looked as if the worst of it was behind us. The fever, congestion, and rash had all but disappeared. Then, yesterday, the rash came back with a vengeance. A bigger, redder, hotter version of it. And it was covering her, from her sweet, plump cheeks to her precious, tiny toes. It was a penicillin allergy, after all. And I, her mother and protector, had been feeding it for eight miserable days. We were prescribed a second antibiotic, Azithromycin, which will continue to fight the infection. But the rash, we will just have to wait out. There's lots of good news, though. The rash doesn't seem to bother Willa near as much as it does me. The new medicine must not taste as bad and is only administered once a day. And her appetite has returned, so we're working on filling back out those thighs.

Hence, I've reached another conclusion on my maternal journey. I will not always be able to protect her. I will be faced with many decisions along the way in which the answers are not clear. I will make some wrong choices. And it will never get any easier. Motherhood is a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it. And I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Mom-jeans and Minivans

I made an observation this morning. As I looked at myself in the mirror, wearing the saggy Old Navy shorts and tank that has become my uniform, I realized what I've done. I have become the mom that has let herself go. With comfy rubber flip-flops I proudly display the professional pedicure I got for Melissa's wedding on August 8th. (It's September 20th.) I don't know when I'll get back to the spa, so I'm keeping this one until every last speck wears off. My once chic, new haircut is a tad grown out. It's definitely more "slob," than "bob." But my ponytail is stylishly carefree, loosely secured by a plastic chip clip (circa 1990?) and I am sure it nicely accentuates my overdue root job. If I let it go a little longer, I think it just might pass for cutting edge style. One that even Traci and Rebekah couldn't top! How has this happened? I mean, the toenails and hairdo are one thing, but I have no excuse for running around in these sloppy duds. (That's what they are...duds.) I own a clothing store! What am I advertising? It's just that getting dressed is not the same fun as it used to be. It is actually quite daunting. My mom-attire has all sorts of requirements: Must be loose and lightweight (to combat the heat generated by toting around another human.) Must provide enough coverage for easy bending and picking up (because this is my only exercise.) Must lend ample support and convenient access to the food source (still breastfeeding.) So many requirements - is it really worth the trouble? And then there's the time limitations. Willa has become very fond of my arms, and if she isn't perched in them, she is on the floor looking for trouble. So I must dress with lightning speed. In case you're wondering how I have found time to write this post, well, I have traded bathing for blogging. Blogging has become much more crucial to my sanity than bathing. (Yes, I have considered Sean's feelings on this. And Sean is welcome to post about it and how it affects his sanity on his own blog.) So I ask my mom-friends and wide-spread Sprouting Daisies devotees (none of whom appear to be suffering from this affliction,) should I let this run it's course? Will it pass on it's own, or must I put forth some effort and reclaim what I have lost? And what will come next, mom-jeans and a minivan?