multiple realities

showing up (and why Betty Draper needed a blog)

I think there must be some sort of alignment happening in the Universe this week, syncing my on-stage debut in Providence's inaugural Listen to Your Mother Show with this blog's one year anniversary.

A year ago this week I posted my first reflection here on Multiple Realities.

And tomorrow, I'll be stepping in front of a podium in downtown Providence, in front of a 300-person audience (gulp!) to read my motherhood-themed essay.  (The show is being filmed and will be posted later on YouTube... I'll let you know when the link is up.)

When I started this blog in May 2012, I didn't know what it was going to be.  But there was something inside of me that compelled me to do it.  It was like an itch I needed to scratch.  Like a mosquito buzzing in my ear that I needed to swat, that I couldn't just ignore.  I somehow knew, without knowing it, that I needed this blog to save something that only I could save inside of me.

Without my blogging, I think I might have fallen into depression, into the cavern of boredom and isolation that can result from staying at home with twin toddlers through four New England seasons, including a long, cold and dark winter.  I did not want to be Betty Draper.  If you ask me, Betty Draper desperately needed a blog.

Brené Brown once said, wisely: "“Unused creativity is not benign. It metastasizes. It turns into grief, rage, judgment, sorrow, shame.”

Let's face it, for the many moms among us (myself included) whose passions do not include deciphering the stages of early childhood development, doing laundry with toddlers is a lot less intellectually stimulating than, say, setting up a camera in manual mode to capture doing laundry with toddlers, and then writing about it, uploading it and posting it. 

The process of pondering, gathering and creating material for my blog is what got me through many of my stay-at-home momming days this past year.  Somewhere, somehow, during the process, I've stopped wishing I were the kind of mother who didn't need this extra layer of "stimulating work" to enjoy being home with my children.  I used to feel bad about that; now I don't.

One year later, I admit that the process of doing this blog has helped me start showing up more and more as my most authentic version of myself, both on my blog and in my real life, instead of trying to be like other bloggers/mothers/people that I admire.  And in learning how to do that more and more -- to just be myself and show up -- I've started figuring out who this "most authentic version of myself" actually is.  I think I've grown as a writer this past year, from someone who tried to write/post what I thought people wanted to read... to a writer/blogger who writes/posts what I think I have to show/share/say.

I'll be the first to admit that not every single post on my lil' blog has been insightful or interesting.  In this first year, I think my blog has been overall good, but sometimes hit or miss.  Some days, I wrote and posted something I felt really proud of, and other times I was exhausted and just needed to get something, like a single photo, up on the page.

But here's the thing:  I posted at least once a week for an ENTIRE YEAR.  On average, I posted 1.4 times a week!  And I feel really proud of that.  To me, this means I showed up for myself, even if each post wasn't all that interesting, articulate or perfect, even if thousands of people aren't devoted followers of my little corner of the internet.  Even if I am not earning any money doing this.  I showed up.  I did it!

And I'm about to show up again in a new and scary way tomorrow, on stage with my motherhood-inspired piece to read.

 

When I told my mom that I was thinking about auditioning for the Listen to Your Mother (LTYM) Show, we had a serious conversation about the content of the piece I wrote.  The reading I'm doing tomorrow is pretty vulnerable for me.  I was trying to make sense of my need to write it and share it, and then my mom said, "I don't think you have a choice, Jenn.  I've known you longer than anyone else in the world.  I can tell you that for as long as you could hold a pen, there was never a time when you didn't need to write.  It's always been your way of getting things out of yourself that needed to come out.  I don't think it was ever up to you."

And if there's one thing I know well enough by now, it's to listen to my mother.  :)

So maybe that's why, when I heard about the LTYM show and the call for auditions, I didn't want this opportunity to be part of a national conversation about "motherhood" to be hijacked by some June Cleaver version of mothering, which everyone knows is bullshit.  I deeply wanted this Providence show to tell the truth.  So I decided to write about mine, as bravely as I could muster, and then take it to the audition.  And tomorrow, to the stage.

And here's what's so amazing: 13 other women (Yep, our entire Providence cast) had the same thought that I did!  Screw motherhood myths!  Let's TELL THE TRUTH!

And so tomorrow we are going to do that.  Because together, on that stage in our real lives, and on this stage here on the internet, we are showing up to save the only lives any of us can really save: our own.  One fantastic truth-filled bit at a time.

toddler window washing that will save you the misery of listening to Wonder Pets

I know this is not rocket science, people.

But I have a confession.

Lately, we've been sliding down that slippery slope of too much TV at our house.  It usually starts about 6:30am, before I've made my coffee, with a request for Dora the Explorer from Buddy who *ADORES* Dora.  And Boots.  And Backpack.  Then, since the children have been sitting so quietly and attentively for 20 minutes, and I've had time to make my coffee and check email and... "What's that?  What's that you say, Bee?  Dora's over?  You want to watch Wonder Pets now?  Okay."

I'll be the first to admit that I'm down with a bit of TV watching.  I'll not say more because Jamie over at Steady Mom already wrote this great post about how (& why) she uses TV as a babysitter.  I think she's spot on.

But for me anyway, it's all too easy to let a little TV watching become too much... just one more show, and then one more...  So, I've started looking for a few new morning activities that can keep my kids engaged and focused while I make coffee/wake up/unload the dishwasher/cook breakfast/pack Junebug's lunch/flip the laundry.

This one -- the window-washing -- has turned out to be pretty brilliant.  I bought a few plastic spray bottles at Rite Aid, filled them with a bit of water, gave Buddy and Bee each a towel and the squeegie from our shower, and showed them how to "help Mommy wash the windows."  It was 20-minutes of happy playtime bliss!  (And I did not have to listen to any high-pitched cartoon character voices piping in from the living room.)

While they sprayed, wiped and squeegied, I even had time to make this Big Apple Pancake for breakfast, a recipe passed on to me from my dear friend Anastasia.  It's delicious!  And easy (and quick!) to make!  I substituted Sucant for the sugar, organic Spelt flour for the all-purpose flour, and a dab of maple syrup for the powdered sugar on top.  My kids (and the grown-ups) loved it!

And in case it's not obvious, my windows did not actually get clean.  In fact, they are now quite smudgey.  But the whole morning was waaay better without having listened to this:

 

 

truth-telling that will make you cry (and laugh so hard that you pee a tad in your pants)

I know it’s seductive to stand outside the arena, because I think I did it my whole life, and think to myself, I’m going to go in there and kick some ass when I’m bulletproof and when I’m perfect.  And that is seductive.  But the truth is that never happens.  And even if you got as perfect as you could and as bulletproof as you could possibly muster when you got in there, that’s not what we want to see.  We want you to go in.

-Brené Brown

We had our first Listen to Your Mother rehearsal last night.  All 14 of us on the Providence cast -- all women, all mothers -- gathered in a small room with a dome ceiling at the public library.  I even showered for the occasion -- first time this week, yay!  (Not everyone did though.  Which was also just fine.)

We sat down around a long table and, one by one, talked about why we auditioned.  And why we wanted to be part of this show.  For each of us, the answer was a little bit different.  And for each of us, it was a little bit the same.

Then, we spent the next 90 minutes reading our stories aloud to each other for the first time.  Woah, people.  That’s all I can say.  Woah!

It was incredible to be in the same room with such a powerful force of women.  The pieces we read aloud to each other, that we’ll be sharing at the show on May 4^th, were hilarious, relatable, insightful, gut-wrenching, hard to hear, unique, smart and filled with so much truth-telling.  The stories were about many different themes related to mothering -- some tame and knowledgeable things, some gritty and broken things, but all of them straight up honest.  What a refreshing thing, honesty. 

Some of us identify more as writers, some of us more as performers, but what I came away from last night feeling was this:  all of us are seriously brave truth-tellers.  All of us are putting ourselves out there.  Showing up.  Being seen.  At a time when the mommy wars are still raging, the truth being spoken all around the table – without anyone needing to hide it or fix it – is what felt most liberating. 

This show is going to be 90-minutes of kick ass.  We’re stepping into the arena.  Just you wait.

in like a lion, out like a lamb

Dare I say it?  Spring is in the air.

Each day the patches of snow disappear, one by one, and a few more songbirds peek out from the shadows.

And yet:  here in Casa Multiple Realities, we've been holed up with Junebug, our four-year-old, who is now going on day 4 of a nasty stomach bug.  Long nights and days have left dirty dishes piled high, barfy towels and sheets lined up for the washer, and a sweet, lethargic girl with her flushed cheek pressed to my lap.  Poor sweet bear.

Meanwhile, Buddy and Bee are ready for some sunshine.

My Aunt Shirley, also a mother of a toddler + twins (though she did it back in the 1950's, bless her!), told me once that life would start to get awesome again once the twins turned two.  Well, maybe she didn't actually say the word "awesome," but she might have... she's quite hip for being almost 80 years old.

Anyway, she was the one who kept telling me how much easier and more fun things would get after they turned two.  And she was right! 

I must admit that the 1-year mark in the life of toddler + twins was anti-climactic.  So many other twin parents told me that we just needed to put our noses down and get through the first year, and then things would get better.  So we did, and true, things got a bit better after the babies turned one.  But not *THAT* much better.  Sleep was still a major issue, they still couldn't walk or talk, they still needed us all the freakin' time. 

But now that they are two, I admit to experiencing whole multi-hour stretches where I find my twin children fun. 

Have faith, other parents of twin babies!  IT GETS SO MUCH BETTER!

They are such characters, Buddy and Bee.  Empathetic, joyful, curious, loving, and completely into cracking each other up.  In particular, Bee is into cracking Buddy up.

For instance, yesterday, after I stripped yet another barfy set of sheets from Junebug's bed and set her in the bathtub to soak, I heard Buddy and Bee talking in their room. 

I'll be honest.  It was 2:15pm and my first thought was, "They are supposed to be napping still!  Somebody please shoot me."

But as I leaned in closer to the door, I could hear Bee singing, "Hello, Everybody!  So glad to see you!" Which is the Hello Song they learned in their Music Together class.  After Bee finished singing this line, I heard the two of them collapse in their cribs, in fits of hysterical laughter.  Squeals, shrieks, uncontrollable giggles.  Bee sang the song line, and the laughter repeated, again and again.

So I cracked the door to watch.  There, standing in her crib, with her shirt pulled up to her armpits, was Bee.  As she sang, "Hello, Everybody!  So glad to see you!", she was moving, with her two little hands, her belly button!  Opening and closing the hole of her belly button like a mouth, as if her belly button were singing the tune.  This absolutely cracked her brother up.  He thought it was THE.  FUNNIEST.  THING.  EVER.  Again and again and again. 

So you see, I could hardly stay mad at them for thwarting their naps.  I decided, on this particular day, with the smell of vomit on my hands and Junebug, at last, peaceful in the tub, to join my twin two-year-olds. 

I threw open the door, lifted up my shirt, and moved my own belly button to the words as I sang:  "Hello, Buddy and Bee, so glad to see you!"  The laughter that ensued was the highlight of my week.

Spring is on its way.