Solo parenting blows.

 

Oops, I mean solo parenting is a great opportunity. I am so appreciative of the chance to deepen my understanding of my self, my limits and my patience.  To find my inner drill sergeant and get the kids in line.  I love to paint, glitter, cutout cardboard and discover the secret craft goddess that lies within.  Empowered (and desperate), we seize the day and explore more new places than ever.  Clarity becomes very high – should I ever find myself alone – I drop everything and do nothing IMMEDIATELY. I don’t dare waste one second of that precious time cleaning a dish or picking up a toy.  And above all, I am forced to seal in the good habit of going to bed by 9pm so I can be up 2-3 times at night and ready to rock and roll at 5am.

 

So, there is travel involved in his job and not just the kind that moves your whole family to the other side of the world. But the kind that takes him to Fiji for 2+ weeks to ‘understand the entire IT operation.’   This is true for much of the staff at SPC. The other (bitter) wives introduced me to the term ‘solo parenting’ and it is regularly the talk to happy hour.  Who is ‘solo parenting’ this week and what do you need?  A meal, kid pickup, bottle of wine, bitch session, chocolate cake?  Lucky me, with three kids, unlike the usual two around here, I get extra inquiries.  Its pretty amazing.

But as usual, I say “Nah, we got it.”

I’m tough. I can handle it.  I always start out so creative, strong and inspired to be the best solo parent I can be.  To make up for the absence of Dada and have a great time despite our captain of  ‘Fun’ being in Fiji.

Day #1

Part 1: Sunrise breakfast hike + picnic. Paloma in the backpack, Jonah carries breakfast, Ivy does whatever the heck she wants as long as she just follows along.  Part 2: Lunch Adventure: Packed up 2 bikes, rollerblades, stroller, picnic lunch and swim gear.  Threw lunch and Paloma in the stroller, strapped on my rollerblades and pulled up the rear as Jonah and Ivy biked along the oceanside promenade.  Had a picnic lunch half way, rolled back.  Part 3:  Drive around while girls nap in the car, then hit the beach for a swim and jumping off the Pier!  Part #4:  Packed in from that and headed to dinner play date at friend’s house

With French school being more closed than open this month, I can only sustain this level of packing, unpacking and planning for a few days.  By week 2 I realize why all these other women feel bitter.  And they know… In the haze of the middle, I got a call from a veteran Aussie solo parent-er, Harriet.

“Hey, what da ya on?”

“I don’t even know. What day IS it,” I say.

“Want to come at 9 for coffee tomorrow, tha’d be Toozeday?”

“YES, that is exactly what I need.”  (someone ELSE to suggest an idea, serve me, let ME talk and clean up the mess)

The thick of the ‘middle’ offers a silver lining though.  I give in to disorder.  To mess. To relaxation after 8pm.  I toss the kids in their rooms and shut the door, put in earplugs and meditate for 25 minutes everyday.  After all the littles finally fall asleep, I surf the internet and get sucked into TED talks and a 33 hour virtual conference on meditation.  I leave dishes unwashed and laundry un-hung.  I try on A’s philosophy and live life instead of obsess about order.  And don’t tell him, but I like it.

But 5am still comes early and nightly dharma talks inspire me but they don’t make me feel less tired.   The relentlessness of being ON. ALL. THE. TIME. is intense.  By the end I just feel sunk.

Day #14

After having a headache for 24 hours, I finally give into a cup of real coffee and an Aleve so I can survive the day.  Make all 3 kids watch a baby DVD (Signing times) so I can take a shower.  Send the kids to the neighbor’s house for hours of eating candy and cookies so I can clean up the house and think about a healthy dinner.  Snuggle the kids to bed so they go to sleep in record time.

All in all, it’s a solid mix of desperation and exhilaration. A comes back from Fiji tomorrow and my solo parenting gig ends. The kids will be stoked to have the real champion of fun back and I’m looking forward to stimulating adult conversation and a few hours (a day please?!) alone.   Hats off to single parents that do this on the regular, because that would really blow.

 

 

My trip home was magical. After barely three months in New Caledonia, I was thrilled to have the opportunity to head back to my sweet hometown of Frederick, Maryland to kick of Sol Yoga Teacher Training. My expectations were met. Frederick is still the same.  Good and more good.  Close family, amazing friends, easy living and work that inspires me.  What I didn’t expect was the doses of perspective along the way.

Paloma and I packed up full suitcase inside of an empty suitcase and navigated the 35 hour, 3 flight journey with relative ease.  It was such a delight to have only one kid and nothing to do but focus on the transition.  It’s so rare in everyday life that I’m not multitasking my ass off that this, by comparison, felt refreshing and very quiet.  It occurred to me about 15 hours into the trip that there was no talking.  Paloma and I still have the luxury of communicating energetically.  With big kids around there is an ENDLESS stream of  NOISE EVERYWHERE you go with them.  “Dont do this, do that, no we can’t go there, I’m not sure why black is not in the rainbow, go pee before we go, please try to be kind to your brother, etc.”

(lesson #1 – no wonder I like to meditate – my life at home is LOUD)

It may have been too quiet though because rampant consumerism began. My adamant intention while in New Caledonia has been to minimize superfluous purchases and consciously re-purpose everything useful.  But without the confines of an apron and minivan, I fell off the wagon and hit the ground running with my credit card.   I’m not sure what happened but it started with two pairs of sunglasses from the Sunglasses Hut.  Like, real sunglasses.  I justified it with some excuse that i’m living in the south pacific, the sun is extra bright and my eyesight is worth it.  But we all know I could have got some damn good polarized sunglasses at Costco for 1/4 of the price.  Then I found my favorite lip pencil from Mac and tossed in some lip gloss too. When I signed the card slip I thought i must have bought 8 lip pencils.  $74, are you kidding me?  I tried on a fancy watch, but was starting to get a hold of myself.  I told the woman I’d catch her on my return nine-hour layover and see if I had any money left. fortunately, Paloma demanded to be fed, so I paid for a small cup of  fancy hot water and hid out in the ‘parents’  lounge (Auckland airport rocks) while breastfeeding and napping with my sweatpea.

(lesson #2 – the pull to spend money and buy crap is pretty strong out there in the world.)

While I was delighted to be in the land of the ENGLISH language,  I could not help but notice the customer service deteriorating considerably the closer I got the US.   What started with flight attendants carrying my baby, men folding and stowing my stroller, hot meals, free wine and an entire row of seats to myself ended with barely enough elbow room to cradle the baby, rude and uptight airport staff and an EMPTY food cart by the time it got to my row. NO FOOD – and I’m talking about the kind you have to BUY.

Starbucks was the first logo I saw as I stepped out of customs on US soil. I was reminded of a book I read in the late 90’s called No Logo, by Naomi Klein.  So many of our brands are in the US are powerful and influential. I also couldn’t help but notice a lot of obesity. and a lot of gadgets.  On our final leg, a red-eye from west to east, I paced the aisle while Paloma got some energy out crawling back and forth. I was looking for someone reading an old fashion, page turning book and did not find ONE.  Lots of Kindles, ipads, laptops and a handful of magazines, but no books.

(lesson #3 – the US might be getting a little sloppy and impersonal)

At Dulles airport, Ty Quynn popped out from behind a pole and in true Quynn fashion, neither of us reacted in the slightest.  Non chalance is a coveted trait in our lineage it seems. Anyone watching our grand reunion would be completely underwhelmed and disappointed by our lack of emotional displays.  Rather, we shared a while-you-are-still-walking-around-the-neck-hug and kept moving forward.  We fell right in sync with each other as my mom walked up and we all delightedly left the airport.

(lesson #4 – Nothing beats the comfort of family. Nothing)

 

I hit the ground running and never stopped until Paloma and I came full circle and returned to the airport with Pat & Ty two weeks later.  We lived out of our car, slept at 5 different houses, saw tons and tons of incredible friends and family and tasted the good life of Frederick Maryland.

But I came to work and work I certainly did. And work I absolutely loved.  Kicking off Sol Yoga Teacher Training for the 5th year offers more personal, professional and yogic insights than I can cram into one blog post, but suffice it to say that Sol Yoga is my other baby. Almost 10 years old now and as much as I refuse to believe it defines me, it must. I realized that just like I missed the physical presence of certain PEOPLE since I’ve been gone,  I missed the entity of Sol Yoga.   It has its own identity, personality and story.  It’s run by my best friends and people who I have shared so much depth with over the years they are practically family.  It has grown from a tiny little hobby to a full-fledged operation serving 2000 people a month, 4 locations and over 45 teachers and staff.

So I’m pleased that the studio has done well without me. But I was also reminded of how great it feels to ‘work’ and be involved in something professional.  The satisfaction of accomplishment and the luxury of doing what I love  is so addictive and invigorating. Jazzed and re-inspired by the challenge of running Sol Yoga remotely, I felt the desire to hire a full-time nanny so I can do more meaningful ‘work’ and fewer dishes.  French women do it.   Heck, Americans do it too.  Work, work, work.

And then it occurred to me. (Lesson #5) The very thing that I’ve noticed living on a sliver of land in the south pacific is the pace of life and how people work to live, not live to work.  How nice it is to have space in my calendar and open weekends to say YES to spontaneous events and carpe diem whenever possible.   And yet, it took less that a week to get bitten by the bug of desire to have it all.  To work. To raise a family. To live an adventurous life.  And to do it all well.

And so, leaving my sweet little hometown was both hard and easy this time.  The pull of my mini loves beckoning me back ‘home’ and the ass whopping I had to deliver to A for cutting Ivy’s hair off (ah-hem) was motivation plenty to get back on a plane (or 3) to New Caledonia.

Instead of shopping in duty-free this time, Paloma and I hopped on a bus into the city and spent our 8 hour layover exploring Auckland.  Twelve years prior A and I had made the very same bus trip as we kicked off our around the world backpacking trip. But now, instead of a backpack I had a baby.  And instead of feeling terrified and uncertain about traveling, I felt empowered, confident and adventurous.   A decade does wonders.

(lesson #6 – going back can help you realize how you have gone forward)

We arrived back in Noumea with 2 overfilled, extra heavy suitcases, wacked out circadian rhythms and a sense of relief that our family was together again. Paloma was a dream child as she always is, but I didn’t realize how uncomfortable she was on our trip, until we arrived ‘home.’  Her reaction to her brother and sister was sheer delight and joy and ease.  Lots of smiles, arm flapping and baby communication.  She loves her daddy too – so, so much.

Fortunately, I’ve been dropped hard back into full-time mothering as the kids have been on vacation this week.  My confidence that I could do it all wore off in about 2 days and then I plummeted into a brief period of feeling utterly trapped on an island playing the supporting role to A’s dream life (as he flew off to Fiji) wondering ‘what the F*%$ have I done.’   If I could highlight brief period, I would. Once the jet lag wore off, the full moon passed and I recovered my tan, I remembered that I am right where I’m supposed to be at this time.

(lesson #7 – time flies.  change happens. nothing really lasts very long)

 

Its 3:30am.  Ivy’s wide-eyed-awake-worry has gotten the best of her.  “Is today school,” she asks.   I want to lie to her little 3 year old mind and say no, just go back to sleep. But it IS in fact a school day in New Caledonia.  After six weeks on and two weeks off to romp around in the south pacific sun, the kids will be dropped back into the rigors of Ecole Jean Mermoud (public French school)  in just a few hours.

I pretend to model sleep as she tosses about.

“I don’t want to go to school.”

“Its so boring.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“How long is it gonna be?”

“I’m just not tired mom.’ (as she yawns).

After 45 mintutes of this angst, she falls into a light sleep and I slip away to my bed.  Just as i fade, i feel her face staring at mine.  She climbs into my bed now and starts the cycle again.  Now she is crying real tears.  She’s worked herself up into a tizzy. Her face crumples and she sobs that she doesn’t want me to leave.

With the hope of sleep lost, I try on empathy, cradle her and tell her the story of my first day of  kindergarten and how sad i felt (I remember it vividly).  It really sucks to be a kid sometimes. Ivy didn’t find this story too directly helpful, but she did change her tune.  No longer crying, she starting making bold statements about what she was going to do.

“I’m going to go to school and return my binder, then come home with you.”

She’ll often follow her demand with a light question.

“All right, mom?”

“Thats an interesting idea,” i say.  “So, you want to go see your teacher Mrs. Manuella?”

“No, mom.  I just want to go to school and return my binder, then walk home with YOU.”

“How about this Ivy. I’ll go to school and return your binder, and you can stay home and take care of Paloma and hang out the laundry,” I suggest.

“NO mom. I can’t reach to hang out the laundry.  And i DON”T have any milk.  Thats a bad idea.” she says.

This kind of dialogue is great news.  I can see that she wants to go to school but can’t figure out the right story to tell herself.  The right way to make it okay.  We do this dance for a long time. Her coming up with ideas. Me not reacting. Her annoucing. Me reflecting and gently redirecting.

I put some grounding oatmeal on the stove, fix her a glass of her milk. “Warm, but not too warm, mom,” she says.  I put some pep-in-your-step-music on and do my best to covertly, subversively, subconsciously influence her energetically, all the while keeping her moving forward so she doesn’t get stuck in the worry. I give her the chance to choose often so she can feel in control of her little world.

“Which chair do you want to sit at for your breakfast?”

“Do you want to wear a barrette or a headband today?”

Ironically, Ivy was the first one to eat all her breakfast, the first one dressed in her school clothes, the first one with her bag on her shoulder and ready to go.  I don’t know who she is kidding.  She LOVES a challenge and she LOVES school.

She didn’t even need a hug when I dropped her off.

I keep seeing this principle in action.  That the THOUGHT of something is usually considerably worse than the actual moment.  The ANTICIPATION of an event is where we lose it. Stressed, sad, worried, scared, all the emotions pound on us. Sometimes to the point of cancelling, depression or even physical manifestations like hives.  Kids and adults alike. There is no way Ivy would have taken her self to school given the choice.  I could have absolved all her worry by saying she could stay home, which would have been her preference in the wee hours of the morning.  But she saw the worry through to the other side and found out school is not so scary after all.   Its perplexing to me that this happens over and over yet we rarely recognize that worrying about something in the future tense, just produces unnecessary stress.

I get it, but I’m not sure how to awaken the kids understanding of this life lesson.  Perhaps if Ivy sleeps past 3:30am tomorrow, it will be evidence that she gets it!