My early parenting regret, and why I can live with it

If you’re like most American mothers, you work to help support your family. Even though I knew strong opinions on this existed well before I became a mom almost 11 years ago, I didn’t really wrestle with it myself when my first child was on the way.

While I would have loved to stay home with him full-time, I knew we couldn’t do it yet. I was crossing my fingers that someday I would, and sending my husband some less-than-subtle hints, that I preferred to stay home with my little ones through that first year I spent as a working mom. But I felt a bit silly to insist on it. It’s not like I was the only working mom out there. In Greater Boston, where we lived at the time, staying home was the exception, not the rule.

I’ve learned to see my inclination to the domestic in a different light as my family has grown. First of all, I look back with a lot of empathy at myself when I was struggling through early motherhood while juggling a deadline-driven job that, to be frank, didn’t pay enough to make the stress worthwhile. We were just making ends meet in those days, and feeling burned out and guilty about the time away from my son was demoralizing when I was working such a stressful job as a reporter. On the other hand, I was lucky to work about 32 hours and have a three-day weekend every week. Plus, I spent half of my work week at home. What was I complaining about?

Here’s the reality, though. Looking back, I can see that my son dealt with a lot of separation anxiety that I am quite sure was directly related to his primary caregiver dropping him off in someone else’s care three days a week. Now, it makes so much sense because I understand that my son is a highly-sensitive person. Back then, he was a blossoming child and I had nothing to compare him to. Perhaps insisting I not put him down the entire three days I wasn’t working was just normal?

It honestly does make me really sad to know that the separation really hurt him, as I know it did.

At the same time, my body was sending blaring signals that this work/life arrangement wasn’t working for me either. It’s normal to shed a lot of hair after you have a baby, but my hair fell out in clumps for over a year after I had my first child. I easily went below my pre-pregnancy weight, and I was always on high alert when I was working in the office. Every phone call made me jump. I was waiting to get bad news from the daycare. How awful!

When we wanted to have our second child, I struggled to conceive, and had a miscarriage when I finally did. My doctor told me stress was probably the main culprit for my secondary spell of infertility (not the miscarriage itself), but at the time I was so out of touch with my feelings I just brushed it off. Stress from work, you say? Pish posh; work is just part of life!

Over the years, I was very blessed that I was able to take time out of the working world to stay home as our family grew in size. Eventually, we hit critical mass and working made no financial sense when baby number four came.

And now I see that, rather than an idealistic, entitled brat, my wish to stay home with my children was really the most practical and healthy choice for me and my kids. Childcare is exhausting. Work is exhausting. They are competing priorities, no matter what anyone tells you. If you’re stressed and burned out, your body may respond by unceremoniously deciding you don’t need all that hair on your head. Your child may fearfully cling to you, making your work-free days feel just as exhausting as those spent in the office.

Is being a working mother really without many downsides? No. For me, there were just too many.

For a short time, I lamented that I didn’t wait to start my family until our finances allowed me the option to stay home. I truly believe it would have been better for my super-sensitive son not to be separated from me as an infant. I’ve seen my other babies thrive and show a lot of security that he didn’t. It does sting.

But I am glad we did it the way we did. First of all, no one is getting out of parenthood, childhood, or life in general, unscathed. We all learn from the hard things, and my son is most definitely OK. I find, too, that there is a tendency among parents today to wait until all the variables are just right to have their families, thereby potentially limiting their chances of conceiving, and how many children they will have. The fact is, I really wanted to be a mother and I got what I wanted at the age of 27. I am so grateful for that. And my son is an amazing person whom I would parent through any set of circumstances. He was born at the right time, and we took some lumps together.

This post doesn’t come to judge other mothers who work and are happy with that. I truly believe that parents and kids can thrive through all kinds of job schedules. My son and I just weren’t among them, and knowing that now is really just a gift. I can understand why I had such a hard time, and honor it now as I continue to spend most of my time at home with my kids. It’s also worth noting that I actually enjoy work — and I freelance. Being home full-time was, in many ways, a hard thing to learn for me as an extrovert who thrives on a daily routine. But I think it’s the less stressful and exhausting thing, and it works better for me and my kids.

I’d love to hear how work and parenthood have affected others. If you have a much different experience, or align with this, tell me about it!

The best toddler pajama hack of all time

OK, so this hack is only the best if you have a child who does what my toddler does: Removes pajamas and diaper, flings diaper across the room, and urinates in the crib.

YES, this is going to be a happy post!

Oddly, only my two daughters have done this super charming thing as toddlers. They are very civilized little people overall, especially compared to their two brothers (I mean, who puts snot on their walls on purpose?!).

For my older daughter, it was at age two that this behavior cropped up and my younger daughter is also two and peeing in her crib. Just when I thought I was done washing bed sheets on a daily basis!

But this time, I knew just what to do. Backward jammies!

I can’t take credit for this. Years ago, we had an unusually intuitive young woman as a nanny while I worked part-time and she is the one who first finagled this getup on my older girl. She learned this trick from her mom, I believe. You put the diaper and/or the jammies, on backward. Then they can’t take them off.

This only works with body suits, of course, and those with feet like the ones shown here are a bit tricky, because trying to shove toddler feet into backward footholes is a little perplexing. But it can be done! Footless would be better if you have them. Also, I find the backward diaper to be optional if you have the bodysuit jammies on backward.

My toddler complained that her jammies didn’t fit her, but she seemed to get over it and accept wearing them backward. When she got toothpaste and water down her front, I decided to change her into what was available, a nightgown. But then I put the diaper on backward! She again complained it didn’t fit, which must be toddler-speak for, “This is not comfy.”

But she got over it again, and went to bed.

Hopefully she won’t figure out a way to shimmy out of her diaper tomorrow morning before I can make my way in her room!

Let me know what your hacks are for keeping cribs clean when toddlers get creative.

Attention moms: Here’s your free pass for not showing up

I was the first person in my immediate circle to have children, including siblings and best friends, by a few years. So when my best friends and my sister got married, attending all their special events and helping them shop for dresses weren’t things I could just do on the fly. I had to be strategic about what I could attend and for how long. I tapped my foot after watching one friend try on her 15th gown. I insisted I could do one night away but not two for a bridal shower weekend.

I will forever remember tossing and turning the night before my sister’s wedding, listening to my oldest son talk to imaginary characters in his fever dreams. I talked to a triage nurse in the middle of the night who assured me it was a common symptom. I was terrified, and the next day I was to be a matron of honor, speech, and all. I felt guilty that I couldn’t quite shake concern for my son and be present as we got ready that morning.

My mom had surgery a week after I brought my second baby home from the hospital. It was all I could do to even find the entryway where she was waiting for me, in my postpartum haze. I got her home as soon as possible and say a quick goodbye. I couldn’t care for others at that moment, and I beat myself up about it.

While most of my family enjoyed traveling to a beautiful beach resort for another family wedding years later, I was beside myself bringing a feverish infant on an airplane during the second big wave of COVID-19. She had been teething or had some mild virus (not COVID) and I just wanted to go home with her. I couldn’t enjoy the experience and felt guilty for sharing my crankiness with my husband.

So much has happened for the people around me since I became a mom. I spent years feeling like a mediocre friend, sister, and daughter. It’s been one of the hardest aspects of motherhood to accept: I can’t do a whole lot beyond the essentials, and I’ve often taken more than I can give.

But in more recent years, I had a revelation. I have spent 10 years with human fledglings, and in that decade, I’ve needed a free pass. Not so much from others, but from myself.

I only started getting good at using my free pass after my fourth child was born, and I began to commit to very little. If there’s a party, I bring drinks. If there’s an event, I don’t volunteer my time. If socializing is inconvenient, I don’t do it. Barring emergencies, I don’t often offer extra help to my friends or family.

Sounds harsh, feels amazing.

My children are a gift to me; they’re also a serious responsibility. If there’s a risk of anything, it’s that I’ve done too much for other causes and not given myself the free pass I absolutely needed many times. No guilt, no ruminating on what others thought of me. And to be sure, others haven’t always been happy with me. No matter. I get a free pass, and so do you.

Free. Pass.

There are so many ways that being a mother to young kids is a grind, and to make it tolerable, I believe it is crucial to zero in on your essential functions, like caring for your kids, loving your spouse and holding down a job if you have one — and to shed other commitments like you’re a golden retriever losing his coat in July. (This simile is relevant in my home right now.)

This necessary self-interest needn’t be unkind; most of the people who matter to you understand (usually). You can offer encouragement, and companionship and share humor with your friends and family. That is what so much of relationships is really about anyway, right?

But the meal trains, the potlucks, the volunteering, and the grand social plans — those things will be waiting for you in another season. Then you can bless other mothers with the free pass you’re holding now.

I’m not taking a family vacation this summer, and I’m OK with that

I foresee many summer days and evenings on our patio, which isn’t quite this fancy but it’s close!

A staycation isn’t my first choice, but in a year when we took a big spring trip as a family, are trying to furnish a new home, and got slammed with medical and dental bills in the second quarter, it turns out that it’s the right one for us this summer.

And even though I’ve been a little disappointed, I realize I am also relieved.

I actually LOVE family vacations. Most of ours take place in our native New England, and there is plenty to do here. We love Cape Cod above all, but we’ve done our share of lake and mountain vacations too. We generally take a week every summer to rent a house either at the Cape where I spent most of my childhood summers, or in Northern Vermont where I spent a small stint of my childhood.

The recurring theme here is my childhood, it’s true. My parents were very good at getting away and passed that knack on to me, and it turns out that my husband is eager to come along for the ride and mostly lets me pick and plan our trips. Everyone is happy.

So this year, I have some anxiety about not booking a weekly summer retreat. I hate to miss out on something we enjoy and my kids have been vocal about feeling let down too. My five-year-old was pining for a ferry ride to Martha’s Vineyard, and a stay at a small cottage on the Cape the other day. Ouch!

But there are some upsides here, too.

I think most parents of young children agree that vacations are a ton of work. The packing, the logistics of pet care, the finding of provisions upon arrival, and the settling in. The first night is always a total loss in terms of restful sleep. No one stays where they’re supposed to; we can never get the air conditioning or fan situation just right, and children are up at dawn demanding to go to the beach. If we’re lucky, subsequent nights are better for sleeping, but learning the way around a home, especially a kitchen, is harder when you’re wrangling your children. The game of musical bedrooms generally continues until the middle of the week. Maybe by the fifth night, you’re comfortable, and by then, the trip is winding down.

What I’m saying is, I like vacations but they’re a huge pain and maybe taking a summer off will make me appreciate them more.

I know I will want to get back to our summer retreat next year, but for now, I am actually looking forward to not packing a family of six for a week away. This will be our first full summer in a new house and it has ample outdoor living spaces and a sunroom that spills onto the beautifully landscaped stone patio area. There is a wooded area set back on a hill on the rear of the property with a hammock and picnic table — it feels like a campsite. And we have a large, screened-in gazebo perfect for evening lounging.

Our kids also have a few camps they’ll attend, and their beloved grandma is presently moving to the next town over, so they’re thrilled to spend time at her new home.

There are plenty of reasons that summer won’t be so bad right in our own backyard.

Last year, we booked our summer beach vacation before we knew when we’d move to our new house. As it turned out, we closed barely two weeks before our trip dates and we were unable to change them with the house booked solid through July and August. It wasn’t ideal to pack up after packing and moving our entire lives, but I figured there were worse things than having to take a vacation after a stressful move.

Things got a little dicier when a major family event was planned for the first day of our trip, but we decided that at least some of us would try to make that before we all descended on Cape Cod about 90 minutes southeast of our home.

Then on the morning of a departure, our oldest woke up with terrible stomach pain which turned out to be appendicitis. The diagnosis was confirmed during the family event, and I scrambled to get to the hospital and relieve my husband moments before surgery. I spent the first night of our vacation on a fold-out bed next to my recovering son.

Thankfully, he came through well and we were allowed to bring him to the Cape to recover. I tried to take it all in stride but by the middle of the week, when he was able to walk around, we made the mistake of taking the whole gang to a nearby island by ferry on the hottest day of the year. The kids have good memories but there were moments he was too fatigued to walk and by the time we were disembarking on the mainland, I had a hissy fit as I struggled to get our massive stroller onto an elevator — and now my older daughter is strangely terrified of ferries.

Vacations are stressful, there’s no doubt. That one may have been more fraught than average, but now I recall that two years earlier, when I was 7 months pregnant, the fridge in our rental kept breaking and there was also an issue with the upstairs shower flooding the bathroom. It feels like it’s always something.

Home is much less a mystery, and being a parent is already mysterious enough. The kids will surely do and experience a range of things that won’t always be pleasant this summer, but I know the bed is comfortable and the major appliances seem to work. I know where the forks are and the pantry is well stocked, and Grandma is just a few miles down the road.

I need stability and rest after last summer’s move, not to mention the COVID baby and pandemic lifestyle preceding that.

Perhaps a summer staycation will be my very own luxury retreat this year.

Getting a family dog: An honest review

My husband and I talked about getting a puppy pretty much right out of the gate — like before kids, just after we got home from our honeymoon. With two full-time jobs and remote work a rarity twelve years ago, we didn’t think we could swing taking care of an active young canine so we tabled it.

We both liked the idea of owning a family dog eventually, but since we spent much of the next 10 years producing our own puppies, we continued to put it off.

But seeing our oldest child with his uncle’s dog, and noticing the calming effect it had, our interest grew when our oldest approached double digits. We figured he was now old enough to help, and we were moving into a bigger house. Perhaps adding a puppy shortly after our move made sense — rip that Band-Aid off!

We brought our 9-week-old golden retriever, Apollo, home about a month after we moved, in August of 2022.

The Verdict: Not a disaster, Not a triumph

Nothing went drastically wrong. Our dog, true to his breed, was quite easy to train, especially to housebreak. He only had a handful of accidents indoors and it was totally on us for not getting him out quickly enough. Thanks to crate training, there has been minimal damage to our home and furniture (golden retrievers are NOTORIOUS chewers).

We knew this dog would shed, and he does, but it’s nothing our new Dyson Ball Animal can’t handle! And as long as I stay on top of cleaning, the house doesn’t smell too badly like a dog.

Essentially, my worst fears about dog ownership did not come true.

Still, adding a puppy to a household when you have four children –one a toddler — is not nothing. The greatest challenge is really just managing his energy level amidst the competing energy coming at me from the kids. He is rambunctious in the morning, I’m grouchy in the morning, and my kids usually are too. It’s not my favorite time of day. Also, our oldest, now 10, took a while to figure out how to handle our active young pup, and he was bitten a lot during the first six months while the dog was teething. Because our Apollo is also large for his breed, he is tough to wrangle, so there are limits to how much our son can help take care of him. These were all things we didn’t foresee — which was really just due to our own ignorance. You read a lot about how great goldens are with kids, and how they have a soft mouth, but I think that really starts to apply when the dog is older and more settled!

A related, and unforeseen, challenge is that the kids find him to be too much to handle in these moments. My 7-year-old hates it when he follows her around licking her first thing in the morning. My oldest sometimes just wants to be left alone after school while the dog thinks it’s playtime. I tend to get annoyed as a result. I thought these kids would love having a dog, making the extra work worth it!

If you have a young family and are considering adding a dog, I would say definitely don’t do it when you have an infant. A puppy plus a toddler is borderline manageable. Adding a puppy during a major life transition, such as a move, plus a toddler and three other kids, often felt like too much. Perhaps the Band-Aid should have been removed slowly.

But then again, we seem to be past the most painful training months, and we are beginning to get the hang of it as Apollo approaches his first birthday. I catch the kids admiring him more and more.

Maybe I’ll write an update in a few years, with a long-view perspective on owning a family dog.

This is Mother’s Day, ten years in

I no longer need Mother’s Day to meet any expectations, and for this, I am grateful.

Some years have been great, others have been disappointing, but I’ve settled securely into an attitude that can best be described as surrendered, regarding this commercialized, yet worthwhile, holiday.

It’s not that I have low expectations, it’s just that simply being a much-loved member of my family on a day when I feel considerably less pressure to do it all, is plenty. There’s so much freedom in not wanting more than that.

I remember how excited I was to have joined the mom ranks on my first Mother’s Day in 2013. I felt like I had reached a new, respectable status and a place of high honor. I dressed our firstborn son in the cutest navy overalls and sunhat and squealed at his gummy smile while taking pictures. I got flowers and a card and spent time with extended family. My expectations were met.

By the time our third child had made his appearance, just days before the holiday in May of 2018, I’d been beaten down by mom life. I was entirely in the trenches — just treading water. Motherhood was indeed glorious, but it was a hard, grueling glory. Everyone had messy hair and outfits that didn’t match. My husband was too overwhelmed to get me a card or flowers. There was sleep deprivation and crying and arguing. But, flanked by my older children and my new son on my lap, I knew I had a hard-won prize, a complete family, and that was enough.

I’m grateful that, one more child and five years later, I am not delirious or weepy (OK, maybe I am a little weepy) or bleeding and sore, or leaking milk this Mother’s Day. My children walked into my room and climbed on my bed and served me breakfast and coffee. My days are busy, maybe busier than ever, but I can eat and sleep and shower on a regular basis.

Just being this version of a mother, experienced and settled and recovered, surrounded by four beautiful faces that are each burned into my heart and mind forever, is so much more than enough. It’s everything.

Saturday idea: Ban birthday goody bags

Photo by Ivan Samkov on Pexels.com

At the risk of scandalizing my children, should they ever read this post, I would like to make the case for banning goody bags at kids’ birthday parties.

I do remember the glee with which I received goody bags as a child, but I also believe my childhood was infused with a fraction of the cheap plastic paraphernalia that seems to pile up continuously in car cupholders and kitchen drawers around here. We didn’t have as much crap thrown our way every time we visited the dentist/doctor/library, so when we did get a goody bag, the odd bouncy ball or slap bracelet was likely tolerable for our parents.

Listen, I don’t think kids need to chomp generic taffy and hard tootsie rolls after cake and ice cream at the indoor adventure park party their friend just had. They’re good. The toys are going to get lost in the car on the way home, and their siblings are going to want to steal everything. Also, they’re choking hazards!

This is top of mind because I’m planning my son’s fifth birthday party next weekend. I’m skipping the goody bags, Yes indeed.

Here’s what I’ve started doing instead.

Useful birthday party favors!

Not that they’re anything special, but I think they’re a darn sight better than a little bag of cheap koosh balls and whistles. For example, for my daughter’s last birthday, we learned to make soaps and put together little baggies of those for her friends. Who doesn’t want their kids to wash their hands? Sparkly soap is so enticing! Next time, we may use the same molds to make chocolates.

For my son’s birthday upcoming (which has a loose kite theme, because he is awesome and thought of that unique idea by himself), I found cheap DIY kites on Amazon and will send one home with each child, or let them decorate them during the party if there is a lull.

I am going to keep at this strategy because, while I don’t want to send anyone home empty-handed, I think we could all use less stuff in our homes. One item, or a small set of things, is more than enough.

Why you should definitely have three kids!

Photo by Luana Freitas on Pexels.com

I never considered NOT having three kids, so I am most definitely not a neutral party in the discussion, but I am here today to tell you why having three is a wonderful idea anyway!

I’d like to start by pushing back on some of the fodder in the blogosphere around why having three kids is too hard. Here are some of my favorites.

1. If you have three, one child will always be the odd-man out

I actually have four children, and I can tell you that odd-man-out happened when I had two, and now that I have four, but not when I had three. If you have two, there are going to be many times when you, as a mother, want to (or need to) do something with just one of your children. Your other child is left out — assuming your spouse works outside the home and is away from the family for many waking hours.

With four, I have noticed that two will pair up if I am spending time with one child, but another child tends to be left out.

With three, I could spend time with one child, and the other two would pair up, or do their own thing.

I can’t think of one time this was a problem.

2. If you have three, the parents are outnumbered.

Obviously, this is true if you’re looking at this as a basic math equation. But let’s recall a few things. You and your spouse are bigger, stronger, smarter AND richer than your kids.

How much do you and your spouse weigh, combined? How much do your small children weigh, combined?

You have literally every advantage and they know that. If you’re afraid that three kids would overpower you and dominate your household for the rest of their youth, that’s a deeper issue.

I’m kind of kidding, but also not.

3. The world is made for families of four.

I have run into hotel and restaurant deals that do cater to families with two kids, i.e., learning on “Kids Eat Free” night that they cap it at two kids. But this has come up maybe three times. It’s not a major issue. Also, happy to report that I can still use one hotel room for my family of six without too much sleuthing or much of a difference in price. There’s no reason you can’t stay in a room with three kids, though I know it doesn’t sound like a ton of fun when you have a baby in the mix.

Why three is a magic number

Now I’ll share my insight about why three was a lot of fun, and I why I think those who desire another child should not be afraid!

I mean no offense to families with one or two children. I think those homes are delightful, too, and I sometimes wonder what I may be missing out on by having my attention divided. But for those who are broody but think three may be a disaster, I am here to tell you, it will not.

1. Three is a party

While two children may make for a more serene home, three children are more festive. There’s a quality that a sibling group takes on when it expands beyond a pair, a group mentality with more dimension. The personalities and the giggles collide, and it’s just a ton of fun to witness.

2. Three is manageable.

When my third child was a young baby, I definitely worked harder than I ever had and the days were long and grueling. But after a relatively short one or two years, routines were settled and I could handle the volume of work while also maintaining a regular exercise schedule and a part-time job. I was quite content and thought I was done having babies.

3. Siblings are everything

My one surviving sibling lives in Europe and though we touch base almost every day, I PINE for more brothers and sisters. Raising a family and not having siblings close by is one of the great sadnesses of my mostly-happy life. To think if I had just one more person to call, text, or hit the playground with, just makes me feel all the more grateful that I went for three, and then four kids.

Finally …

I know that family size isn’t a choice for everyone, but if you are blessed with the option, and you’re wondering if your life will turn to chaos if you take the triple plunge, please be assured, you won’t regret it. People used to have 6, 7, 8, or more children. The added stress and labor of three are well within the limits of the average interested mother. You got this!