Goodbye Lost

Last night, I parted ways with a commitment that I’ve had for the past eight months. While I felt a bit sad and empty that such focus had come to an end, I realize that good things will come of this. Peter insists that I’d get more blogging done if I’d write instead of watching Lost episodes. I look at the dinner dishes and know that I could do them before the next morning, but then I’d have to determine which was more important, Lost, sleep or those dishes. I finished the 100th episode, and have to say, wow. At the risk of ruining it for those that I know are catching it through streaming Netflix, I won’t say any more. But wow. Since January I have watched an episode whenever I had a moment of childless time. Lost was truly something that only I did in our household, a little me time, even though I tried to convince Peter to join me at least a thousand times.

Now that my relationship with Lost is over, I’ll have to find other ways in the evening to provide balance in my life. Just about anyone who has truly experienced parenthood can acknowledge that it isn’t all cute little handprints, giggles and adorable pictures, snuggles on the chest, the smell of baby, or tiny little booties. It is those things, but it’s also filled with temper tantrums while you are walking through Target, ear infections when you have that big presentation the next day, handprints on everything and not just Mother’s Day cards, curiosity about how that milk got there, nefarious body fluids wreaking havoc on all textiles with 100 yards, the loss of privacy for years and years, and children announcing a family “secret” in the checkout line at Walmart. Things that never piled up suddenly do – like laundry, dishes, the mowing, and to-do lists. So it goes, and so it goes. Therefore, my adult brain seeks out reprieve here and there, and I blissfully found it in Lost for quite a span.

Besides indulging in Lost for myself and True Blood with Peter, there are many other things we’ve found ourselves doing more and more over the last year to maintain a touch of sanity. Since our first year of raising multiples is coming to an end on the 22nd, I’ll share some of those with you.

At least once a week we find ourselves taking what we call “Sunday Sanity Drives.” These are fabulous days where we mutually agree that we will pay for fuel and lunch out instead of therapy. Essentially we make sure all children are fed, comfortable, and exhausted. Then we buckle them into the van, drive until they fall asleep, grab lunch on the road, and Peter and I get to drive through the Black Hills for at least an hour or two with uninterrupted conversation. It is a rare occasion when all four children sleep, so this is truly an extravagance.

In the effort for peace of mind I’ve also sacrificed some of my health. I know that wine, chocolate, coffee, diet coke, pumpkin pie spice lattes, frappes and pizza are not good for you. But they taste so darned good and they make my mouth and stomach smile. At least once a week, I load the kids in the van and do a drive-through beverage pick up. My favorite is the frappe in summer and the latte in cooler weather. If nothing else, it stops the afternoon-before naps fights between our kids. Note that many of my treats of choice are highly caffeinated. Enough said.

I’ve also refused to give up some of “me” for the sake of my family. Reading is something I just can’t part with. My tastes have probably matured these days as I read fewer and fewer trashy romances and mystery novels because I’m tired of the same old plot and it is getting harder and harder for me to relate to the twenty-something heroines often portrayed. Maybe it is a sign of my age or motherhood, but I read less fiction and lean toward history books, gardening and cooking books, health books, parenting journals and my favorite these days, columnists. Since I can only squeeze a page in here or there, I have recently found extreme pleasure in collections of columns because they are brief. My favorite right now is Anna Quindlen.

Another ridiculous sanity trick I’ve discovered is that repeating mottos is as good as counting to ten when I’m doing this whole parenting thing. If I’m feeling a bit chipper, I quote Dori, “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.” If I am having a rough day I think of my mother saying to me year after year, “This too shall pass, this too shall pass.” My personal favorite on a truly bad day is to sing the lyrics to Rodney Atkins’ song, If You’re Going through Hell. It rarely fails in calming the red monster the creeps up my spine when my children do things such as spill three cups of milk in a row. After all, towels and washcloths are wonderful creations.

At some point I’ve also developed a hint of realism where I’ve accepted that I’ll be behind on everything until my kids think I’m not cool enough to hang around with anymore. Why stress? Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.

And of course, a sane mom develops a support group. Mine is amazing, and I have such a variety of friends. A support group serves many purposes including having other experiences to bounce ideas off, having ears to rant and rave at, having someone to have a girls night out with, and have each other to swap goods and share childcare. This great circle also gets you out of the house for those Girls’ Nights Out, often for a round or two of drinking in our case. Though it was a while ago, we even went (shhh…) dancing one night at the local college dance club. The next oldest woman there was probably 23, but we 30+ ladies can still shake our booties.

It’s been a busy summer, and like the kids, now that it is wrapping up it is time to get to work. Samuel and Ethan will both be in preschool this fall, we’ll be celebrating Nina and Jocelyn’s first birthday next week, and I’ll be a dedicated blogger again. I’ll be able to pay closer attention to things now that I’m not buried in thoughts of Lost. But if you know something as fabulous as Lost was to fill the gap in my nighttime so that I can avoid the dishes, do tell. I’m always looking for good things to entertain me and Peter. After all, happy and sane parents are better parents!