The horror of family photo shoots
“It’s going to be better than last time,” I promised nervously, clutching child-sized hangers and a bag of hair supplies. “We’re just going to go in, get it done, and get it out — no big deal. Quick and easy.”
I was talking out loud, but I wasn’t sure if I was promising my husband and the kids, or just reassuring myself.
We had mistakenly scheduled a dreaded family photo shoot for the morning after we’d been away for most of Thanksgiving weekend. Everyone was tired and cranky. We’d overslept. No one was feeling particularly friendly towards each other, let alone prepared to pose lovingly together on a faux sheepskin rug.
I hadn’t even started thinking about outfits until half an hour before the shoot, let alone figured out what was clean and relatively unwrinkled. There was a time, years ago, when I actually bought clothing in order to help us all coordinate.
This year? The “theme” was denim, black, and Oh My God, Just Find A Blue Shirt and Get In The Damn Car.
Taking the time
When I get busier than usual, I also get crankier than usual. It’s like a predictable math problem, A + B = C. (Is that a thing? I suck at math. guys)
But one thing I’ve learned in my 31 years is that a surefire way to uncrankify myself is to get things in order. Clean something. Tidy something something. Organize something.
My mom once read a book about “children of divorce,” and told me that that’s why I craved order and having control over things. It stuck with me, and it’s true.
When shit is going crazy all around me — personally, professionally, both — I take comfort in doing the little tasks I can control.
For the past few weeks (one, two, eight?) I have felt like the house is slowly crumbling around me. Yes, we were getting the dishes done, and the kitchen counter was (mostly) clear of random crap, but little things were getting worse and worse.
The stair baskets were always full of items to go up or down. The carpets were getting more and more desperate to be vacuumed. The toys weren’t always getting put away. My project/craft junk was spilling out of my office into the basement. Those thousand little niggling tasks have been wearing me down.
So tonight, after the kids (and Darling Husband) were in bed and my work (my ACTUAL work) was done, I attacked my house.
I didn’t finish everything that’s been bugging me. But I cleared off some surfaces. I actually picked up a bottle of Windex and wiped some surfaces! I put things away. I sorted jumbled toy baskets. Is there anything more soothing than sorting toys and getting them all put into their proper bins? It’s got to be up there with yoga, right?
I’m pretty sure I also played Barbies (alone) while sorting out the Barbie bins and organizing their house. I was watching Full House on Netflix at the same time, which made it ever sweeter.
I need to start doing this more often, because even that hour or cleaning/organizing made me feel SO much more in control of things. I may have to schedule it in one of my many Google calendars, but if that’s what it takes, fine.
I know when I come downstairs tomorrow morning, the house is going to be a little cleaner and more organized than usual … and damn, it’s going to feel good.
xo
How do you decide when you’re done having children?
When you get married, you’re harassed about when you’ll start popping out babies. Once you have one child, you’re bugged about when you’ll have a second little bundle of joy.
But it gets really interesting once you have two children. If you have two sons, you’ll inevitably be questioned about if you’ll try for that elusive baby girl — and if you have two daughters, people will ask about trying for a lil’ slugger.
As the parents of a son and a daughter, we’ve heard the term “million dollar family” so often that I’m starting to wonder why we aren’t actually millionaires.
Of course, that doesn’t stop our family and friends from inquiring if there might be a third or fourth in our future. Who wouldn’t want another precious grandchild, or another cute niece or nephew, right?
Years ago, yes, I admit I had small-scale “Duggar dreams” wanted four kids. Of course, that was before I had any children, and clearly I had no idea of the work, time, energy, and money involved with raising tiny people.
But now we know. And this week, our family is taking, uh, measures to ensure it won’t be getting any bigger.
(*** Edited to add: That didn’t happen. While we were waiting for the final appointment, this happened. ***)
It’s not (just) that I would have to stop working entirely for a few years, because there is no maternity leave for the self-employed — and no way I could continue to work from home with three children four and under. It’s not (just) because vacations are made for families of four. It’s not (just) because it’s easier to fit four people into a restaurant booth.
It’s not (just) because we love that our children are a year and a half apart, and we wouldn’t want to go through the “baby” stage again. It’s not (just) because I sold my maternity and nursing clothes, and sold or gave away all of our baby clothes and gear.
It’s hard to pinpoint a single reason, because there are so many reasons.
We can’t afford more than two kids — or rather, we don’t think we could provide for more than two kids properly, without making even more sacrifices than we do now. We could logistically handle more than two kids — I mean, we own a minivan — but we don’t really want to try.
I also don’t feel like we could emotionally handle more than two kids.
Having children and juggling multiple jobs is hard on a marriage — and on a person’s sanity — and I want to be in a position to guard mine a little more cautiously.
The appointment has come up pretty suddenly, and at first I found myself having the odd panicked thought. Was I totally sure? Were we completely ready to stop at two kids? I mean, babies are adorable …
You know the best way to answer those questions? Picture adding a two-year-old to your family, effective immediately. No, not a cuddly little baby — a toddler. A baby is only a baby for about eight or nine months, at least in our family. Then they’re off and running, destroying rooms as they empty your purse and overturn boxes of cereal.
Instead of asking someone if they want to have another baby, I think we should ask them if they want another child. The baby stage goes by in a split-second. Adding another member to your family is a much more serious decision than just craving the scent of a newborn. If I want to hold a baby, I’ll hold a friend’s baby … and then I’ll hand it back when it starts to cry.
I used to wonder how people would know when they were done having children. But now I know that it’s just sort of a peaceful feeling. My very wise friend (a mother of two) once told me, “You have to stop sometime,” and she’s absolutely right. Unless you really want to be like the Duggars and have 19 or 20 children, there comes a point when everyone stops — and it’s up to each family to decide when they’re ready to put on the brakes.
It’s kind of scary any time you shut yourself off from an option, and that’s what we’re doing. But it’s not only about saying no to future children — it’s about saying yes to focusing on what’s best for our family. It’s saying yes to being happy, and living a life that’s fun and comfortable and exactly right for us.
Yes, we’re closing a door. But we’re also turning a page and starting a new chapter.
The four of us are stepping into the future, together, to see what it holds.
Saying yes to new traditions
In keeping with our new tradition of not getting each other giftcards — or any physical gifts at all — for our birthdays, Best Friend and I met today for one of our new and totally awesome birthday lunches.
It was wonderful.
I think you (at least I) honestly forget how nice it is to catch up with friends (A) IN PERSON and (B) WITHOUT YOUR CHILDREN and (C) in a more upscale environment than McDonalds.
We talked about everything (kids, work, family, etc.) and I left feeling rejuvenated! Why, oh why, in this age of All Things Internet, does it have to be so hard to get together in person?
I mean, who else can reminisce about that one Halloween when we were 11 and dressed up as Elvis and Priscilla?!
(Spoiler alert; I think I just looked like a hooker)
Let’s do it again soon.
xo
When moms become hoarders
I have hoarder tendencies, especially when it comes to our children. The sentimental side of me wants to preserve every piece of artwork, treasured board book, and precious teeny tiny shoe.
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| These stripey sort-of-matching jammies! How can I part with youuuuuuuu? |
But I also get antsy about clutter, so the organization-hungry side of me says “We don’t have the space! We can’t keep everything!”
Here’s the process I follow for keeping the “memories” under control …
Keep one memory box for each child. I have two medium-sized plastic totes in our master bedroom closet — one for our son, one for our daughter — for keeping the really special items. By keeping the box somewhere central, it’s easy to add items along the way and ensure nothing gets lost. I have saved their tiny soothers, the bibs from their first taste of solid food, certificates from their toddler “classes,” birth announcements, and first locks of hair — although we have yet to cut our daughter’s hair yet, so she will probably be 10 before that gets added.
Make space-saving decisions: When our youngest potty-trained, I found myself getting sentimental about parting with the kids’ shared stash of cloth diapers. Yes, I actually felt sappy about pieces of cloth that had been peed and pooed on, repeatedly, for years. But I knew it was silly to keep all of them, so I only kept three “favourites” — a blue one for our son’s memory box, a pink-and-purple design one for our daughter’s, and a black-and-white one for my own memory box — you know, so I can look back one day and remember changing those tiny (stylish) bums.
Continue reading over in my weekly parenting column, The Mom Scene …
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