little mirrors

Oh these children. Little mirrors.
My five year old and I walked to the grocery store yesterday - just a few blocks from the house. We were both having pretty awful days, and I thought the change of scenery might do us some good.
As required by our previously adjudicated contract, I had to buy him a gumball if he was well-behaved during our shopping trip. I considered arguing the point that, since we were only at the store for 10 minutes, I technically didn't owe him a gumball but...what the heck. I really didn't have the energy; he's a vicious negotiator.
He's also a severely negative boy who can find something to complain about ANYWHERE. Trust me on this, I just took the kid to Disney world. So of course the first problem is that after inserting the quarter into the filthy machine, he is unable to turn the knob and must watch, disgusted with himself, as I do it for him. Then - o calamity of calamities! - a yellow gumball pops out. I remind him that a yellow gumball is better than no gumball, and he seems okay with that.
I've been thinking a lot lately about my inability to recover from disappointment. Some misfortune visits my emotional doorstep before 9:00am, and my day is shot. Recuperation is a pipe dream. So that's where my mind was when I glanced down just in time to see the yellow gumball, still intact, fall out of my son's mouth onto the parking lot and roll away.
I watch his face register the stages of grief - the denial, followed by the anger... and as he nears the bargaining stage he turns his teared up eyes to me. Realizing the need to nip this in the bud (I briefly considered the five-second-rule, then thought better of it) I say "I'm sorry Sam, we can't pick it up, and I don't have any more quarters."
He blinks, the tears fall, and he whispers "But I was just so happy."
You said a mouthful there, baby boy.

A very small window

Today was to start my triumphant return to the YMCA, knowing as I do that few things put a dent in depression like some good old-fashioned exercise. Well, that, and the baby-sitting room. 1 hour of alone-time is heaven, even if I have to spend it doing squats & lunges.

In typical Jeanine-fashion, I probably attached a little too much importance, emotionally, to the beginning of a new Y session. I'm about a week into trying Lexapro again (kick in any time now...really...) so my mind is full of "fresh start" hopes and "this time will be different" dreams. I have my own personal New Year's on a quarterly basis, at least.

Life had other plans. Infant daughter is fussy and fighting infection - only available doctor's appointment is during my new exercise class. Grr. Son, age 5 and starting Kindergarten in 3 months, announces that he hates (pre) school and will no longer love me if I make him go. Grrrrrrr. Husband texting with questions re: credit card bill. Grrrrrrrrrrrr. PUPPY HAS DIAREA.

Its too much. This is the part, for me, that comes off as weakness. The part I really can't stand. Its 8:30am, and the day has beaten me. The day I'd been looking forward to for the better half of a week as a 'tabula rasa' of sorts.

I ensure my children are safely gated in the baby-proof living room with some Yo Gabba Gabba, I lock my crap-spewing puppy in the bathroom, and I head to the garage with my coffee. Its the only place I can think of that's far enough away to approximate escape, yet close enough to avoid child abandonment charges.

As soon as I sit down I realize my mistake. The garage is not an appropriate place to escape. Its full of unfinished projects, given-up hobbies, and clutter. It virtually screams "lack of follow-through!" It is the physical manifestation of a to-do list I've been avoiding my entire adult life. If I thought about it, there are few places in the world I could go to feel more like a failure than my garage, really. And here I sit, coffee in hand, trying to cheer myself up.

There is a very small window in my garage. Through it, this morning, I can see part of my cherry tree, pink buds ready to burst. I can also see some of my Maple tree, whose light green leaves have just begun unfurling the last day or two. And, though its raining, the sky is still kinda bright this morning.

This is what "moderate depression" is like. I feel constantly weighed down by failure - those things I can't do but feel I should, or can do but don't do well enough, or can do really well but lack the discipline to see through to fruition. And by guilt - for losing my temper and yelling at my five-year-old, for forgetting my Dad's birthday, for crawling into a bottle of wine. I carry these feelings around with me everywhere, drag them behind me or throw them on my back, and its exhausting. And if I can muster the energy to look up or glance around, I can usually find a very small window with a happy view.

I imagine "severe depression" is similar, but without the window, and for that - I count myself lucky.

Lunch with professionals

Surprisingly, I'm not talking about my therapist (though, she could definitely afford to take me out to lunch once in awhile...)



Today I had the bittersweet pleasure of lunch with my former boss and coworker. I say bittersweet because I love these women. They are intelligent, upbeat, informed women who give back to their communities - they are precisely the kind of people I choose surround myself with when given a choice. Unfortunately they bring to the surface the dichotomy that is me: career Jeanine and mommy Jeanine are still not the same person, still not capable of peaceful coexistence. Its like I have to kill one in order for the other to thrive...



This duality was strangely easier to live with when I worked "outside the home" (awful, awful phrase). Take off one hat, put on another...I never really felt the need to dip into the resources of one to tackle the challenges of the other. Different roles, different people. Simple. The only time they bumped into each other was at the occasional holiday party or company picnic.



When I finally made the gut-wrenching, pride-swallowing, almost martyr-making decision to stay at home, I imagined myself tackling it like a new job. I bought calendars, scheduled my days (with an infant! woman plans: infant laughs.) I signed up for story time at the library, classes at the Y. I had learned from my professional life that I require a certain...framework, I guess...in order to excel. A system. And in my professional life that system served me well . Why has is failed me so miserably at home?

I think it might be because I'm Lisa Simpson.

I'm thinking of a particular clip where she's begging her teacher "judge me! evaluate me! please!" There's no eval time in the life of a stay-at-home-Mom (awful, awful phrase...) Well, there's the judgemental husband that begins his family time with a look around the living room and a "so...what did you DO all day?" - but that doesn't really count. He really doesn't know what you've done all day. And that's a post in itself...

But a good boss...geez I miss that. Which is strange - people say "so what do you miss most about work" and i think "having a boss"...but a good boss is a cheerleader, is invested in your success because your success means their success. They encourage you, they challenge you, they may even bribe you from time to time if necessary...and even when they're critical, you know its because they want you to succeed. Its not because they're passive-aggressive and pissed off that you drank a bottle of wine and stayed up on Facebook until 2:00am...again...but I digress...

Point is, I think I may be in the market for a Mommy Mentor. Any takers?

Oh - and stay tuned for future "so what did you do all day" post, apparently congealing as we speak...

Disney on anti-depressants

Ah....the happiest place on earth. no pressure.

Let's make this post useful, and in the form of a list.

Jeanine's Top Ten Tips for Clinically Depressed Mommies at Disney World:

10. Try not to obsess over finding the hidden mickeys. They don't actually exist - its all just a sick joke someone came up with torture those of us who aren't very good at 'i-spy' but can't resist playing anyway.

9. Repeat after me: Waiting is an opportunity to build patience. Waiting is an opportunity to build patience. Waiting is an opportunity to build patience. Now breathe...

8. Nap when your children nap. And make your children nap everyday.

7. Allow the most mentally stable adult in your party to take your kids on the 'Its a Small World' ride. You sit it out. It is not for those of us already teetering on the edge of sanity.

6. Every meal at Disney comes with a desert. Accept this in the beginning, enjoy it during, and do not give it a second thought until you're home unpacking the clothes that no longer fit you.

5. Try not to constantly remind yourself how much the trip is costing so you'd better enjoy every freakin' minute of it starting NOW damn it. It doesn't help.

4. Seek out the calmer areas of each park, and take some solace there from the constant over-stimulation. I suggest: the nature trails in Animal Kingdom, Robinson Caruso's treehouse in Magic Kingdom, Streets of America in Hollywood Studios and in Epcot - the Canada pavilion. That place was practically deserted...

3. Look at the expressions on little kids faces - they really are almost always happy, and it really is kinda contagious.

2. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR MEDICATION AT HOME.

1. The characters probably aren't actually smiling in those giant stuffed-animal costumes. That alone should make you feel a little bit better.