A Look Back: April Fools’ Day 2010

Posted by Yoga Bynum

I’ve never been big on April Fools’ Day. Most of the time, it comes and goes before I even think about it. Four years ago, though, April Fools’ Day took on a different meaning. It marked the beginning of one of the most challenging times my family’s ever faced.

I was out of town on business, and my mom suffered a stroke. From the time my dad called me at 4:55 a.m. until my mom came home nearly a month later, a part of me kept thinking I was stuck in a long, cruel joke.

Mom pulled through. So did the rest of us. Along the way, we experienced things that would forever change us. I learned my parents truly cannot live without one another. My relationship with my brother changed from a big-sister-little-brother dynamic to one where we were equals who had each other’s backs. The most surprising thing? I discovered I so much stronger that I had ever given myself credit for.

So instead of playing a joke this year (not that I would have ever played one anyway), I’m going to be thankful for our 2010 journey. It was hard at the time, but we are so much better for it.

My Husband Called Me Frumpy, and I Didn’t Kill Him

Posted by Yoga Bynum

I was in love with this dress from the moment I saw it. It mixed my three favorite things: a black-and-white print, a flattering silhouette, and a sale price. I ordered it immediately.

But when I tried it on for the first time, something wasn’t right. I hung it in the closet and decided to try again later.

Later was the next morning. I put the dress on and thought it looked great. It just needed time to lose the wrinkles from packing and shipping. I topped it with a hot pink sweater. At this point, I normally would kiss Hubby goodbye and hit the road. For some reason, that day, I asked him what he thought.

“You should get a belt,” he said. “Or it looks a little frumpy.”

FRUMPY?!?! That’s an all-or-nothing adjective. There is no such thing as “a little frumpy.” I checked the clock. There were less than 10 minutes left before Mini Me had to catch the bus. I scowled, grabbed a belt, and herded the kids out the door.

My outfit gained a different response at work. I told colleagues at the coffee station about my conversation with Hubby. They assured me the dress looked fine.

Hubby was cleaning the kitchen when I got home.

“Everyone at work said my dress looked nice,” I said.

“It does look nice,” he stopped washing dishes long enough to kiss me hello.

“You said it was frumpy this morning.”

“Well, yeah,” he said while squinting. “It just needed the belt.”

My mind started to turn. How does a dress go from frumpy to fashionable with just a belt? More importantly, when did my husband become André Leon Tally? Something wasn’t right.

“Do you know what frumpy means?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said, way too quickly. He continued scrubbing dishes. “So, um, what is it?

“Matronly. Homely. Unattractive.”

“No,” he turned to look at me.

“Yes.” I nodded.

“Well, I just meant the skirt was puffy. The belt makes it not stand out so much.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I spent a good portion of my day being miffed at Hubby for a mistake in vocabulary.

Have you ever felt like you and your partner were speaking two different languages?

Five Tips for Multitasking Responsibly

Posted by Yoga Bynum

I am in a constant state of motion. It’s surprising that I hardly ever reach my daily goal of 7,500 steps. Between the numerous walks from my office to the water cooler, printer, or restroom, and my nightly orbit from from bedroom to basement, that goal should be a snap. Though my fitness tracker logs a deficit, my body aches at day’s end tell another story.

I sometimes think it’s impossible for me to be still. As soon as I sit down, I think of something and then get up to do it. Watching TV doubles as time to clip coupons or put away laundry. The back button on my remote is worn because of how often I rewind to catch something I missed.

Until a couple of weeks ago, I was proud of my multitasking superpower. But a visit to the hospital with Lil Ma forced me to rethink that position. I had overdosed on multitasking, and it had me flitting around like a mad woman. I needed to dial back and use my skill in moderation.

Here are a few things I’ve figured out so far:

1. Two or three, not four or five. If you can keep up with five things at once AND do them well, my hat’s off to you. Some days, I tried to tend to dinner, dishes, two kids, and a phone call. That was lunacy.

2. Group sensibly. Don’t mix things that require your full attention. Laundry and TV? Cool. A call with your mom and emails from work? Lunacy.

3. Know when it can wait. Going to bed without cleaning the kitchen has always been a big no-no for me, but I’ve left more dishes in the sink this week than I have in the past five years. I’m learning little by little to be ok with that.

4. Know when it can’t. Mini Me is going to her first concert tomorrow, and she insists on wearing her blue giraffe shirt. This would be fine, except it looked like it was run over by a truck. I initially told her to pick something else, but as her nine-year-old eyes widened in panic, I remembered when I was her age. It was a big deal to pick my own outfits for special occasions. So I spent a chunk of my evening getting her shirt show ready.

5. Cut slack. Lots of it. I’m a good mom, and I don’t give myself enough credit for that. I have a feeling you don’t either. So what if your kid goes to daycare with graham cracker crumbs in her ponytails from time to time? It means absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things.

There’s a lot more for me to learn, I’m sure. Stay tuned.

The Marvelous Multitasking Mama

Posted by Yoga Bynum

I’m a firm believer that motherhood requires expertise in multitasking. How else can one get it all done? There’s clothes to wash, meals to prepare, and mountains of errands to run. When you’re not overrun by minutia, you need to find time to raise and nurture the kids.

After experiencing nearly 10 years of motherhood, I felt as though I had a good handle on the multitasking game. One-handed vacuuming with baby on hip while singing the ABCs. Cooking meals and checking emails. Helping with homework and busting suds.

Recently, my multitasking skills were rendered useless. Lil Ma was diagnosed with bronchilitis, and with that came a brief stay in the pediatric ward. She was all that mattered. I left Hubby to care for our oldest and fired off a half-sensical email to my employer stating I would be out the rest of the week.

Fortunately, Lil Ma came home less than 24 hours after being admitted, but she needs breathing treatments until her lungs are back at full strength. That could be a month from now.

It’s amazing how one rough day threw off our family routine. We didn’t buy groceries. The kitchen was a wreck. Mini Me’s supply of clean clothes rapidly diminished. As an added bonus, Lil Ma no longer tolerated sharing the spotlight with her sister, dishes, laundry, or a mobile device. She wanted playing, holding, and singing. Any combination of those was acceptable, but that was the only multitasking allowed.

Honestly, her request was not unreasonable. I, however, still had other things that needed my attention. A husband. Another kid. A job. A me.

Feelings of failure circled.

I tried to shake them off by reconnecting with my multitasking mojo. I planned new ways to combine tasks. Could I make the bed and clip coupons? Or, could I wash dishes and sort clothes? What could I accomplish in just five minutes? (That’s still a good idea, by the way. Just not right now.) The thought of it made me all the more overwhelmed.

Instead, I slowed down and focused on one thing at a time. I thought about what reasonably fit into our weeknight evenings. Dinner. Homework. Play. Baths. Bed.

I rejiggered the order of things to eliminate rush. Bath time moved ahead of dinner and homework. That ended the mad dash to the tub and the battle to get the girls in bed at their appointed bedtimes. Plus, it gets done while dinner is in the oven. (Ah, multitasking responsibly!)

I remembered that for two weeks at a time, I’m not the only adult in the house. Hubs can help, I just need to ask.

The girls have my undivided attention while we play pat-a-cake or look at doll fashion. I reserved 30 minutes after their bedtime for general clean up.

The most important thing I’ve done over the last few days is to cut myself some slack. There will always be something else to do, but I don’t need to try to do it all. I’ll pick what’s important, bundle when it makes sense, and get to the rest when I can. And I’m certainly no failure for that.