Playdate time. Where's the wine?

Ahh the playdate.  Specifically the playdates that my 3 boys have with my BFF Beth's 3 boys.  For a grand total of 6 boys.  That is a lot of boys.  Plus now we've each added a puppy to our broods.  So 6 boys plus 2 puppies.

Our boys are pretty close in ages - mine are 10, 8 and 3.  Hers are 9, 7 and 3.  Whenever we have playtime after school, we fantasize that the kids will all play peacefully downstairs while we moms quietly sip a glass of wine watching Oprah.  Though we are now resigning ourselves to the fact that getting our boys together means that neither of us will get to complete a sentence, the wine will be guzzled and we will be lucky to catch Oprah's ending credits.

Case in point, today.  Beth made cookies for an after school snack.  Beth's boy #3 (BB#3) walked around the kitchen with his 2 cookies on a plate that slid off so my dog ate them, sharing them with Beth's dog.  Then my dog grabbed my boy #2's (DB#2) cookie off the table because he didn't sit down fast enough.  The dogs then romped around the kitchen for a while all sugared up.  Then DB#3 had some bathroom time but forgot to point his thingy downwards so his shirt, pants, socks and undies were soaked, along with the bathroom floor.  Then Beth's puppy tinkled all over her bed in the kitchen. Then they all wanted to go outside which meant suiting up in snow pants.  Add to that the noise of 6 boys and 2 dogs, and well you get the picture.  We didn't even get the chance to turn on Oprah.  Forget the wine.  We were together for 55 minutes.

Last summer we came to a rather sad conclusion.  It appears that whenever we all show up at our local playground, all the other kids seem to disappear.  We must look pretty scary, invading the playground with the normal wild screams of boys on the loose.  But sure enough, we noticed a trend.

Beth summed it up well though.  "Hey," she whispered, "let's head over to the playground in the next township.  No one knows us over there."

Next summer we might not be so lucky.  Our reputations - and noise - may precede us.

Motherhood and Running - Perfectly Imperfect Together

Perfect.  I've come to really dislike that word.

I was the perfect child.  Rarely, if ever, in trouble, straight A's all the way through grad school.  Did as I was told and had the world at my doorstep.  Career planned out.  Oh I was going places. And those places would, no doubt, be perfect.

Then I became a mother.  Of three boys.  I imagined raising young boys of impeccable manners, eager to clean their rooms, help their mom and never say an unkind word to anyone, not even each other. 

I was going to have perfect children.  Just like me.

Well, children have a way of throwing all those visions out the window into a big steaming heap.  My sons are well mannered for the most part, but will eagerly laugh hysterically at the slightest hint of a burp or, as regularly happens in our house of 4 males, wind from the other end.  My goal of 3 well dressed boys in khakis and collared shirts?  I'm lucky if they have anything that isn't stained or ripped.  And right now with the growth rates we are experiencing, a pair of pants that isn't 3 inches above their ankles.

I've scaled back my expectations, and I've realized that that is a good thing.  My kids are happy and well adjusted, for the most part anyway. And the stress - though still there - has been reduced as I realize that my kids are their own selves and with a little guidance from hubby and me, will turn out just fine. Forget perfection.

Then last year I decided to take up running.  I've never been athletic but I decided I wanted to run.  I wasn't going to start at a short 5k (though I ran one - but it wasn't timed, so in my mind, it didn't count.)  Heck no.  I was going for a race with the word "marathon" in it.

And I was going to be the perfect runner, gosh darn it.  Just like I was going to be the perfect mother.

I did pretty well for my very first athletic accomplishment. I finished the half marathon in 2:23.  I was quite proud of myself for my first "official" race.  But I needed to go further.  I signed up for a marathon.  26.2 miles.

And I was going to run the perfect newbie marathon.  I had the shoes, the running skirt, the support of family and friends, and I'd done the training.  But it took me a long time.  A realllyyyy long time.  5 hours and 28 minutes.  I thought I could finish in less than 5, perhaps even 4:30, based on some of my better training runs.  But 26.2 miles is a heck of a long way, especially in bright 70 degree sunshine.  I did well for the first half but at about mile 21 I bonked and half walked/ran the rest of the way.  But I crossed the finish line upright and smiling.

I was proud of myself - but disappointed too.  I didn't run my "perfect" marathon - perfect by my standards any way.  I had different expectations for how I would feel at the end.  I was laughed at by someone who thought my time was slow, and told I was selfish for training for such a long time.  After all it took time away from my family - as if that was my only reason for existence, thank you very much.  I had great support from the Run Like a Mother community which made me feel so much better.  But still, part of me felt like I had failed.

Just like there are days when I feel like am failing as a mother.  You know those days, when the only way you can survive is to park the kids in front of the goggle box and lay on the couch.  Those days when you can not deal with one more argument, fight, spilled glass of milk, load of laundry or toilet to clean.

But running has put this whole experience in perspective.  When you run, you put one foot in front of the other and keep going.  There are days when you are slow, and days when you are fast.  There are days when you can't drag yourself out of bed and there are days when you hop out of bed and go straight to your happy place while putting on your running shoes.

Just like there are days when you can't stand motherhood, and then days when your kids tell you that you are beautiful and the best mom in the world.  You just have to put one foot in front of the other and keep on going, avoiding the legos strewn across the floor, of course.

So my visions of being the perfect mother, the perfect runner?  Replaced by visions - and reality - of being a mother runner who is doing her best.  Putting one foot in front of the other, the best - and only - way I can.

Before and After - The Big Reveal

As I did my usual scan of the morning news on Yahoo!, a feature article caught my eye - www.shine.yahoo.com/event/haven/7-simple-ways-to-get-organized-1434241 - Seven Simple Ways to Get Organized.  It outlined how you can organize your home in 7 days, simply, easily, without any fuss. 

They are kidding, right? 

As a wannabe professional organizer, I can assure you, the average family would struggle to organize their home in 7 simple ways.  Cleaning out the kitchen cabinets and restacking the towels in the linen closet does not an organized home make.  It is far more complex than that.

Articles like this and "organizing" TV shows really distress me.  Many of us who are not "born organized" long for those perfectly stacked shelves, those closets where like items are arranged by season, color and sleeve length.  Where our children's playrooms have color coordinated toy bins, neatly organized according to toy type, size and age.  You know those ones, straight out of a Pottery Barn or Container Store catalog.  Sure they look great, but how realistic are they?

Those shows in which teams of organizers sweep in, magically decluttering to give the homeowner a"big reveal" moment when they walk in and see their wonderful new spaces, do not tell the whole story.  Sure they provide great entertainment for us and perhaps ideas for our homes, but they don't tell us the before and after story.  They don't really address how the "before" chaos happens and how the organized "after" can be maintained.  Recognizing the "before" and "after" is the key for true home organization.

My desk is the one place where I really struggle.  It's the general dumping ground for every piece of paper in the house - kids school papers (which come home by the thousands, it seems), newspapers (that need to be recycled.  Why on earth I put them on my desk instead of straight in the recycling bin is something I cannot comprehend.), bills (which I will get to, later) and junk mail (that needs to be shredded).  Under all this is my inbox which seems to be constantly overflowing.  So much so that I never get to it, because in order to get to it, I need to clear off my desk!  I clear off my desk and then, whoosh, all this paper appears from no where and I have to start all over again at the beginning.  Know what I'm talking about?  Thought so.

So I could get TLC or HGTV to come over and clear out the recycling and kids papers, and give me some pretty desk accessories to hold the mail and nice little matching pencil holders and a nifty looking label maker to label everything.  But what good is that when all I will do is dump my papers on my desk and cover all the cute things up?  That's the problem - why do I dump it instead of sorting immediately (before) and once sorted, how do I keep it that way (after)?  Having pretty containers on my desk doesn't help me.

Organizing is far more than plastic bins and cute organizing accessories.  It's about really looking at ourselves and asking why we do the things we do.  Why do we buy stuff?  Why do we procrastinate about our inboxes?  Why can we never seem to get organized?  What is standing in our way?  Perhaps if we answer the "before" questions, we can have the organized "after" that so many of us desperately seek.  Now THAT would be a big reveal.