Five on Friday: To Every Season (turn, turn, turn), There Is A Sport . . .

To most people, the transition from fall to winter is marked by shorter days, colder temperatures and falling leaves.

For a Multi-Sports Mom (MSM) like myself, the transition is from the outdoor sports of soccer and field hockey to the indoor sport of basketball. Though I've been watching basketball for years, there are always things I have to reacquaint myself with during the transition. For example, now that's back to basketball time, I've had to remember that:

1. At home games, there is no just moving to the top row of the bleachers if you forget the folding bleacher seat and want to lean back on the wall. Unfortunately, some ill-placed soundproofing panels* make this impossible. 

2. (*In spite of these panels . . . ) Basketball is fucking LOUD. Besides the cheering being contained inside four walls, the sneakers are squeaky and oh my god the buzzer is unnecessarily loud, long, overused and obnoxious.

3. Basketball is made up of four 8-minute quarters (unlike field hockey's four 15-minute quarters and soccer's two 40-minute halves) but ultimately, a sports minute is still a sports minute. (There is no mathematical equation that I know of to compare real life minutes to sports minutes, I just know sports minutes are always much, much longer than real life minutes.) #IYKYK

4.  When going to basketball, I don't need to pack extra clothes and blankets. (There is an extreme change in the weather from the start of an 80+ sports-minutes long late fall soccer game that starts when the sun is out and ends when the sun is down and it's freezing.)

5. It's comforting to know that no matter what sport it is and no matter how long I've been watching my kids play in it, I still never have any idea what is going on. 

If I'm very, very good and don't complain about how

 loud the buzzer is or how uncomfortable the bleachers are, 

maybe these cheerleaders will come back.

Five on Friday: How Old Are We Now?

The Christmas cards have begun arriving with the yearly updates on how everyone's sciatica is doing and how old their kids are now.  We just send photos, no updates, so if you're wondering, the "kids" are now 24, 22, 18, 16 and 14. As for my husband and me? We are this old:

1. We have now been married for precisely half of our entire lives. WEIRD.

2. (Talking about being married a long time . . . this next statement was made after our trip to the nude beach:) 

Husband: All these naked boobs all around me and all I could look at was that long hair on your chin. 

3.  I have long had stray hairs in odd places, freezing cold hands and feet in bed at night and the inability to make it through the night without a bathroom run. Guess who else is right with me now . . . the old man.

4. I have these two items unironically next to one another on my to-do list:

5. Our 14-year-old was playing a song with explicit lyrics on the kitchen speaker. They were a little too explicit for my husband to feel comfortable with our daughter blasting in the kitchen.

Husband: "Hey Google! Play NSF, um, not suitable for . . . wait, no, play the uh--oh man--the censored, er, the, oh! The radio edit versions of songs from now on."

Google (rolls eyes) : Whatever, Dad. 

Five on Friday: One Year In

As I approached the one-year anniversary of my new career, it's been bittersweet to remember what I was going through last year at this time. I truly loved my last job but I wasn't supported or respected--so much so that I left without having another job lined up. So I spent a few weeks as a lady of leisure before the stars aligned and I landed a local full-time gig.

Having never worked full-time as a parent nor ever having been an Executive Director before, this has been quite the adjustment. I have learned a lot in the last twelve months and I wanted to spend some time today reflecting on these lessons.

1. Pacing myself. This is hard for me--when I have an idea, I want it done yesterday. In reality, there's an event I thought I could have at the museum last spring that now I know I'll be lucky to get done this upcoming spring. 

A lot of people have asked me if the job was what I expected it would be. The truth is, I didn't know what to expect when it came to overseeing twelve buildings on ten acres, regular and seasonal staff and volunteers, school tours, events, programs, etc. Now I know just how much work it is. However, when they ask how it's going, I always stop short at saying "overwhelming" because I have an incredible support system here, and I've embraced:

2. Asking for help and delegating, something I did know how to do before but have been fine-tuning in the past twelve months. How? By paying more attention to asking the right people for help on specific tasks, making sure that volunteers are happy in their tasks, applying the "ask for help and delegate" notion more at home.

3. Feeling comfortable acknowledging that I am still learning. I don't have to be the expert in every area, I can call on others for help and, here's the key part--not feel less than for doing so.

(Recent home conversation with 14-year-old about homework led to my husband saying something like, "Mommy learns something every day." She of course responded, "No she's not" and I was like, "Girrrrrl, I am making this job up as I go along!")

4. Navigating the work-life balance: this has been a little bit of a struggle. Lately though I feel like I have been making strides in this department and I have many ideas for how I can continue to improve this in the upcoming year. 

5. Realizing how much we have achieved: When I started, people kept saying, "I can't wait to see what you'll do there!" I knew I wanted to make changes but I didn't know exactly what they were. That combined with #1 from above sometimes made it feel like it'd be impossible to have anything to show them.

Upon reflection, my team and I really have accomplished a lot together. The earliest changes were internal, so only we knew about them. Now that those are in place it feels really good to have more tangible growth to show the world.

So this week I am taking the time to feel the joy (and pride!) of my first year along with so much gratitude to those who have helped me realize these goals. 

I can't wait to see what we'll do next! 

Five on Friday: Reminders for Self for Successful Meal Planning

Okay, come on now, self, you're not the worst meal planner (You're not the worst! You're the okayest! You've got this!) At least you try?

For real though . . . as long as you remember these key pointers, you can do it.

1. One word: Leftovers.

2. Two words: Rotisserie. Chicken.

3. Three words: Fend. For. Yourselves.

4. Four words: Make. What. They. Like.

Making a big pot of chili to eat for several days sounds like a good idea until one kid says she doesn't like chili and the other says his stomach can't handle it. You know what they like: chicken noodle soup (use that rotisserie chicken carcass up!), pot pie, quiche. Just do yourself a favor and make those.

5. Five words: Cook. And. Prep. On. Sundays.

Remember, self--finding time for
something like this on a Sunday, means
you all eat better all week long.

Five on Friday: Life Hacks for Completely Unsuccessful Meal Planning

Take it from me, the world's okayest meal planner:

1. Plan seven dinners. End up with leftovers and impromptu invitations from friends. 

2. Don't plan seven dinners. Kids will devour everything (leaving no leftovers) and nobody likes you this week. 

3. Dutifully ignore all your early-in-the-week grand ideas for fancy side dishes, making the planning moot and leaving you with vegetables you wonder why you purchased.

4. Assume you'll have time and energy after a full day of work, an appointment and a sports game to cook dinner. 

5. Make every meal a big production instead of remembering the convenience and joys of canned soup, sandwiches, frozen pizza or breakfast for dinner. 

Stay tuned next time when I attempt to remind myself of some actually helpful hints for making sure my family eats at least two real meals a week.

Five on Friday: Now That He's At College

Since our third son has left for college, here are some discoveries I've made:

1. He took our entire supply of kitchen garbage bags. As if he's going to need a brand-new roll and we won't need any here at home.

2. He took the hair gel I use when I retwist his brother's hair every two weeks or so. Which of course I realized when I sat down to do his brother's hair.

3. I have no idea how to cook for only four people.

4. I no longer have a chauffeur for his younger siblings and random errands.

5. I'm not a scientist . . . but I don't think his prefrontal cortex developed much in just a matter of weeks. However, I was happy to find that a little time apart was good for us. He came home for the weekend and let me hug him (!), was pleasant and even asked if there was anything he could do to help.

Silly boy young man--I did want help and
 it involved pulling a gravestone out of the ground!

Five on Friday: Maybe a Pip, But Also Still a Total PITA

Recently I shared with you that our youngest is still a pip. Today I'm here to break the news: I'm pretty sure that being funny is just a defense mechanism because she's not just a pip, she's also frequently a pain in the ass.

Sorry you had to find out this way.

Some recent examples:

1. At the doctor for her recently, the nurse asking intake questions asked if I, Mom, of clearly different race than my daughter, have the same issue (conceivably to determine if it runs in the family). I paused for a moment and said, "I'm not her biological mother." I could see the nurse felt awkward so I kept the conversation moving, mentioning that I have some of her family's health history but not all, etc.

This is when my child elbowed me and whisper-hissed, "Shhh, Mom, stop, you're so embarrassing."

2. 

Fourteen days later: still blank and
she just asked me if I ever bought that lotion she asked for.

3.  On our summer vacation, I told the kids I had some brochures from the lobby and they should take a look and let me know if they'd like to take an excursion. 

Her response: "Mom, don't say that word."

Me, confused: "What's wrong with the word excursion?"

Her, visibly cringing: "Nothing. I just . . . I don't like hearing you say it."

4. She believes it is her natural born right to get professional manicures and pedicures on demand. When she got tired of my refusing to pay for them, the  14-year-old girl with no steady source of income sent this:

5. After not seeing her much for a few days, she came down from her room and approached me where I was sitting on the couch, saying, "Mom, I think I have separation anxiety."

I tried to pull her down to me for a hug saying, "Aw, you miss Mommy!"

Her: "Ugh don't touch me. Can I have an ice pop?"

Me: "Well what did you mean when you said you have separation anxiety?"

Her: "I don't know, I was up in my room and I, like, felt sad. It's like . . . I want to see you but like .  . .  not touch."

Five on Friday: The Third Has Started College

A few weeks ago, we brought our son to college to start his freshman year and I didn't shed a single tear. Why not? Some reasons:

1. This is our third child going off to college. I didn't cry when he got on the kindergarten bus, either.

2. Unlike the first two that chose a college five hours away, this guy is just an hour away. Easy-peasy.

3. Honestly, he's been in that "my prefrontal cortex isn't fully developed yet causing me to make many poor decisions" stage for awhile now. It's completely frustrating but does make it easier for a parent to say "Buh-bye! Have a great time at college! Try to make good decisions!" and then turn around with a dry face.

4. He was enrolled in a summer program that had him at school four days a week for five weeks. It was a really great experience, introduced him to people and the campus and earned him seven credits. It also got us used to not having him here.

5. Maybe the biggest reason is this last one, a story I've shared with many parents sending their first kids off to college:

Fall 2019: We took our first to college. It was hard. I cried.

Spring 2020: She came home for spring break and then finished the year virtually because of the pandemic.

Fall 2020: She started her sophomore year and her brother started his freshman year at the same school . . . but both from home, virtually.

Spring 2021: They got to go back to school. Only one parent was allowed to help them move in, so my husband took them. Our daughter was living alone in a suite and our son was in a hotel room. Their classes were still virtual even though the younger kids had switched to hybrid by then. It wasn't much of a college experience.

Of all the age groups that suffered in different ways from the isolation, I truly felt the worst for my college kids. They should have been living with friends and learning from professors and exploring their new city and learning who they were away from us. But they didn't get the chance to, until . . .

Fall 2022: Both parents were allowed to take them this time. Together we got them settled into new places with friends. We left knowing they'd be starting in-person classes soon . . .  our sophomore's first time at college. I felt so happy for them getting to experience college fully, in the way that they deserved, that I did not cry when we left two kids five hours away.

The moral of the story, bittersweet though it may be, is to remember what an absolute privilege it is to be given the opportunity to go to college. I truly am happy that our third child is  able to take advantage of living on campus, with friends, taking in-person classes and getting to learn who he is without us.

And hopefully that prefrontal cortex develops a little before Thanksgiving break.