Adventures of Millennium Mom

Getting Ready for Santa!

I haven't been paying as much attention to my blog recently as I should. After a day of writing or designing or being creative on behalf of a client, sometimes it is just hard to sit down and think of something to say that's mine. I just hit that creative wall. Now, I have been writing some short-and-sweet newsy / info writing for hubpages.com (see user CarolineChicago). And I've actually had a couple things posted with Associated Content. But Millennium Mom has been suffering, and I do apologize for that. 

Like most of you, I'm spreading myself thin right now. End of the budget year work has me scrambling. (I was actually instructed to bill ahead for a huge project that straddles one client's fiscal years, so that the department won't lose their money next budget year. Feels kinda funny to bill ahead--but, hey!, I do have bills to pay!) Then there is the big Christmas shopping plunge. Almost done--but it does cut into the work day.

And how about those school winter concerts?! So far, not a Christmas, Eid or Hanukkah song to be had. Wouldn't it be great if they just moved those all to January when we as parents and people just weren't so darn busy?!

Traditionally, I am known as a scrooge. But this year, I am really trying to force myself into the whole Christmas spirit kind of thing. It's worked so well that my 13yo daughter actually recognized this with approval. "Wow, Mom," said she as I bumped my head plugging in lights under the piano. "You never get into Christmas. What's up?"  What's up is just that I used to be so into Christmas that I burned myself out before the oldest was 7! Heck, the littlest one can't remember Mom being thrilled about the season, so I'm pushing myself. I might --emphasis here on might--even do some Christmas baking this year! We have a long stretch from the first day of winter break to actual Christmas. I might as well put the little elves to use and have them help me do some cooking! 

 

Trying to Keep My Loose Ends from Tripping Us Up

This was not a red-letter day of parenthood for me. Today was about working woman colliding with the woman named "Mom" who stumbled over the simmering PMS creature from the Skokie Lagoons. The woman someone calls "wife" is hiding from the other "me's" in a broom closet somewhere.

Yes, I had meetings. I had work to do. I was focused and dressed nicely (no jeans, grey wool jacket, black slacks and even make-up). I was very focused on the day at hand--and FORGOT TO GIVE HYPER BOY HIS MEDS!

Had I not had to be downtown, Millennium Mom could have zoomed in and fed the Focaline to her Hyper Boy at school. But Millennium Mom was stuck in traffic on 94 around Addison when it popped into her mind that she had, indeed, forgotten to dose her boys with their meds that morning. I also forgot to let the dog out one more time before leaving. 

I felt bad--both for Hyper Boy and his teacher. I felt guilty, knowing he would try to stay calm but eventually cave and be out of control.

Then, I arrived for my meeting. Working Mom at her best: oh, the meeting was at 2:00?? Not 11:00?? And via phone? Not in person?  Thank God, this was with one of my oldest clients. She had time, we laughed, we conferenced--and in the end it was a good thing that I was there in person. We had some photos to look at for her website. But, working mom was really ready to crawl into that broom closet with the one-called-wife. And maybe bring a big bottle of gin for the two of them.

Back at the ranch, the dog got to go out. The e-mail came in: Hyper Boy is having a hard day, says his poor teacher in an e-mail stamped 11:00am. I e-mail back that I had been downtown when I realized what had happened in regard to the missed meds. I extended my apologies to her and Hyper Boy. I felt guilty.

Then Hyper Boy comes home from school. He had had a long, hard day. And his brother had punched him in the car. He dissolves into a puddle of Hyper Boy. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

Finally, guilt-ridden mom climbs into the broom closet. The only one left standing is PMS monster from the Skokie Lagoons. She manages to send out an e-mail regarding the school district's callus scheduling of the 5th grade Farewell at the same time as the 8th grade Graduation (monster has kids in both grades). Then she realizes that throughout the Middle School play rehearsals, her e-mail address has been left off most of the cast-parent e-mails. She sends a reply-to-all regarding this situation and finds out that she almost didn't make the show's ad book with a loving ad of support for her daughter. She wonders what other vital e-mails that she's missed. Then pokes her head into daughter's room. Daughter rolls eyes and sneers. PMS monster slams door. 

Knock, knock! Can PMS Monster come in? I brought the rest of you some tonic water.

Days like these . . . .

Nobody ever told me there'd be Days like These . . . 

• The fun of watching my guys run out onto the field in their tackle gear at the basically re-built high school stadium
• The frustration of watching son #2 play special team 5 times (as kick return--they lost big time) but not as defense
• The mixed feelings of watching son #1 go down in a pile
• The joy of making some new friends working concessions before the first game and hanging out with my friends while we watch our sons battle their way down the field
• The cowardice of getting out of the house and to the concession stand before hormonal girl could fully wake up
• The relief that comes from talking to other mothers of girls in concession stand who also escaped home for the calm and peace of grilling hotdogs
• The guilt of being a coward
• The guilt of leaving boy #1's game at halftime to take his sister ("I'm freezing") and boy #2 (hyper out of control) home and missing his big offensive block.
• The guilt of then running off to the grocery (although it needed to be done) to further avoid daughter hormones
• The confusion that comes from being told by daughter that she is happy--then totally changing to evil girl in same sentence--but "doesn't want to talk about it."
• The relief of having a wonderful, loving spouse who can make an amazing gin & tonic.
• The satisfaction of a roast in the oven, a contented cat in the window, a calm dog on the floor--and a g&t in hand.

If anyone had told me there'd be days like these before we had children, I don't know if I'd believe them. And if I did, I'd either have continued on with the birth control or started drinking g&t's much sooner than I did.

Mother's Liquid Helper

Now that the day is over, no more driving, chicks back safe in the nest (except for one particular chickie who is at a friend's for the night), I can sit back and relax with my Gin & Diet Tonic. Aaaaaahhhhh.

After a nutty day of breaking up summer vacation fights (or, during the school year, homework disagreements), carpooling, working and other of life's necessities, the evening Gin & Tonic is a happy little relief. Call it the Mother's Liquid Helper.

Gin has a long history of medicinal use, beyond that of improving / restoring Millennium Mom's mind. Gin was actually invented in the Netherlands around 1650 by a doctor intending it to help relieve kidney disorders. It was made from the juniper berry (gin being a derivative of the French genievre, for juniper) and by 1655, had spread to commercial production in England.

During the William & Mary realm in England, British gin production was encouraged and the liquor became cheaper than ale or beer. In fact, drinking gin was considered safer than drinking the water in England! Of course, abuse became rampant, leading to depictions of "Gin Lane." But later, bitters were added and the gin cocktail became popular in England.

In addition to the Gin Martini, the British Empire is to thank for my Gin & Tonic. With the British governing much of India and the far east, British colonists and soldiers began contracting malaria at alarming rates. Doctors soon discovered that quinine was an anti-malarial drug. While quinine was (and is) an ingredient in Tonic (and Diet Tonic) Water, the medical professionals had a hard time getting Brits stationed in the East to drink it.

Finally, someone had the brilliant idea of mixing in Gin and, voila, the Gin & Tonic was discovered. Another improviser tossed in a lime (although I prefer a lemon) slice--and scurvy was also answered for! Whoa! An alcoholic, health food drink!

OK, while my absolute favorite is Beefeater, this is not a sponsored blog. This the rambling journal of a mom relaxing in the evening with her Gin & Tonic (and not worried about contracting malaria). Use your favorite gin, a tonic water (diet or not) and combine at a 1:3 ratio of gin to tonic, add ice and a lime or lime slice (not necessary) and you have the perfect Mother's Liquid Helper! Cheers!

Sleepless in Chicago

For the past couple of weeks, the middle of the night has not been oh-so-quiet in the Millennium household. In addition to our nocturnal cats, I have had some serious bouts of insomnia. From the hours of about 1:00 to 5:00 AM, I toss, turn, turn and toss--and worry. My brain feels that it is running at 90mph and will not shut off.

As my DH sleeps so soundly, I worry. I worry about the fruit flies (still fighting that battle), the fact that the house is such a mess, imminent work deadlines that loom so largely in the dark, whether I wrote the football car pool schedule down right, and--finally the other night--college tuition.

It has occurred to me this summer--almost out of no where and really rather suddenly--that our oldest leaves for college in only 5 years. I think it was her 13th birthday that did it to me--and her gleeful statement that she would be going to college in just 5 years and perhaps married in 10 ("Well, you were 23 when you got married, Mom" was her response to my dropped chin. My reply was that "people just don't do things that way anymore" --and was looked on rather doubtfully by her Highness.

But five years! I think we have the equivalent of one semester's book fees saved. So, I've stewed and stewed about this. How to turn my mind off? Because if we need money, I need to be able to function the next day and finish billable projects!

Counting sheep doesn't do it for me--and warm milk makes me gag. My grandfather used to name the presidents forward and backward to get to sleep--but I get all confused between Andrew Jackson and Abe--and between Abe and Teddy. Frustration doesn't cure insomnia.

I have tried to name all the states and capitals, going across the map. And recently I've been playing an alphabet city game: take the last letter of the first US city that comes to mind and come up with a city that starts with that letter. Name another US city that starts with the previous city's last letter. Not too much to think about: Orlando >> Orland Park >> Kankakee >> Elkhart etc. Seems mind numbing enough to help ease me into sleep sometimes.

But nothing is numbing the pain of the thought that there are only 5 years left until we're broke and the DD leaves the nest. . . .

 

Cicadas & Summer's End

I was a very nervous, shy little girl. I was very bookish and loved learning--but I was scared of school and the teachers (back in the mid-70s teachers were not as user friendly as they are now). I dreaded my father's birthday (8/14) and by the time my brother's birthday came (8/31), I couldn't even choke down his birthday cake. I knew I'd be headed back to school after Labor Day. But the worst were the cicadas, chirping out their warning that summer's end was on its way. 

Once I hit my teens, I loved school and getting back to my friends and looked forward to a new year of excitement and adventure. But to this day, the sound of those darn cicadas still makes me cringe. 

Now, I cringe about my own children going back to school, about having to deal with new teachers--and explaining the boys' 504 plans and making sure these new teachers honor those plans. My stomach twinges now because I'm a mother and am responsible for three growing children and making sure they receive a good education and do their best. 

While my daughter does a pretty good job managing her time, studying and striving to do well, the boys with their differing types of ADHD are still a constant, emotionally exhausting struggle.

And finally, those cicadas warn me that the summer season itself is almost over. Where did this summer go? And I worry that I personally didn't take advantage of all the fleeting season has had to offer. 

On the bright side, though, when the kids return to school, I get my regular schedule back. I'll have time to work for multiple uninterrupted, productive hours. I get the family room back to do Wii fit, the weather will cool down, and I'll be able to get out and walk again. 

So, even as the cicadas sing and my stomach twinges, there is a light at the end of August.