Author: Yoga Bynum

Is Parenting Stressful?

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That’s a question that a friend posed to me this afternoon. Her reasons for asking are her story to tell, so I’ll just tell you about my answer. I’d love to hear your perspective.

I wish I could have given her a yes or no answer, but like most things in life, it’s complicated. There are days when I am ready to pull out my hair because my daughter, my husband, my mother, and my job need me all at once. And then there are the days when being in just one of those roles is enough to send me in an all-out tizzy. Life has stressful moments whether you have children or not.
Most days, I’m good. I do the best I can and have faith that the rest will work itself out. I try to have some fun along the way. When I see my little girl smile or crack herself up telling a knock-knock joke only she can understand, I know it’s all worth it.
Being a parent is hard work. It’s a blessing, and honor, and a huge responsibility. It’s also the most amazing journey you could ever take.

I forgot about my blog!

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Hey, it happens to the best of us; we forget something. Instead of beating myself up about it, I’m going to let it go. It could be worse. I could have forgotten it was my turn to pick up my daughter from school or that it was my husband’s birthday, both of which I’ve done before. So all in all, I’m not doing so bad.

What have I been up to lately? Mom is somewhat back on her feet, so things are very different and very much the same all at once. I now make sure she leaves the house in matching clothes, and she still calls me every morning at work to make sure I made it in safely. On Sunday, we were supposed to go to one store, and we ended up at four or five. Some things never change.

My little girl is growing up fast, and soon we’ll be at that point where there is no need for a bedtime story or a kiss goodnight. I’m going to relish the time I have left in this innocent phase. Today we had a fashion show and read Frozen Noses.

I’ve also developed a deeper appreciation for tea and a slight addiction to Word with Friends. But more on that some other time.

Sorry I’ve been away so long. I’ll try not to be so forgetful!

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Ineligible Contest Entry

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The ladies at SITS recently advertised the P&G Thank You Mom contest. Lucky winners will receive $1,000 for a special day with Mom and a video camera to record the whole thing.

As soon as I read the details, I was raring to enter. Then I saw the fine print in the contest rules. “Employees of Procter & Gamble, its affiliates, subsidiaries, advertising, promotion and internet agencies and their immediate family members and/or those living in the same household of each are not eligible.”

Dang. My company, a communications firm, has P&G as a client. I’m out.

Still, I was compelled to write the entry. Do you think I could have won?

My mother disappeared a little over a month ago. She wasn’t kidnapped in the middle of the night, nor did she go to the store for a gallon of milk never to return. The culprit, lying in wait for who knows how long, made itself known on April Fools’ Day and trapped Mom inside her own mind. The doctor called it a hemmorhagic stroke. Unchecked high blood pressure caused bleeding on the brain and a blood clot that rendered her helpless.


I was helpless, too, in a different sort of way. I didn’t know how much Mom was in my life until she wasn’t there. Before the stroke, we talked countless times each day. She watched my daughter every Tuesday. We went on at least one wild-goose chase per week — a white dress for a church function, a red trash can for the redecorated kitchen, or party favors for my daughter’s birthday. The hole her absence left was broad and deep.

Little by little, Mom made her return. In four week’s time, she’s gone from talking about dancing cats to scheduling her medicines on a chart. It is an amazing, blessed recovery, and I know she still has a long road ahead of her.

What has kept me from coming completely unglued is the circle of women my mother befriended over the years. The unwavering support they’ve shown my family has been simply amazing. Mom had a swarm of visitors every day she was in the hospital, and two of her friends helped us clean the house for her homecoming. Only a true friend would scrub your toilet.

How would I use the prize to reconnect with my mom? I want to celebrate her life, her recovery, and the friends who have been there every step of the way. We love food, we love flowers, and we love a good time. A garden brunch on a beautiful spring day sounds like the perfect fit.

My Womaness

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I’m on a secret vacation. Well, it’s only a secret to some. I’m at a point where I feel as if everything is falling apart — I’m tired, my house is junky, I’m out of clean clothes, I haven’t blogged in who knows when, and I feel like a bad mom. So, I took a week off to get myself in order. I told my brother because I knew he wouldn’t spill the beans. My husband figured it out today when I didn’t go into work for the second day in a row.

As I was lying in bed this morning (sleeping late is fun!), I ran across a blog post from Theta Mom that asked the question: “Are We Women or Mothers First?”
The post made me reflective, which wasn’t really how I planned on being during my secret vacation. But the question was compelling: Am I a woman first, or a mom?
I won’t say the answer I came up with is the right one, but it is the right one for me. I’m a woman. I couldn’t be a mom if I weren’t. I’m nurturing, sensitive, and intuitive. And as an added bonus, I can rock a four-inch heel. It’s how I apply my “womaness” that makes me who I am.
These days, the roles are diverse. It’s why I needed a vacation.
Dutiful Daughter. My mother’s recovery is just beginning, and I have become my parent’s parent. It’s an awkward and scary position. I’m telling her what to do, she’s telling me what to do, and neither of us are budging.
Frazzled Mom. My crazy schedule of late has me feeling disconnected from my daughter. Today, I was determined to make a change. I picked her up from daycare, and we spent the evening in the yard planting flowers. Well, I planted flowers, and she danced around the yard with a watering can. I read her a story before bedtime. It was a good day.
Wifey. Until last weekend, I couldn’t remember the last time hubby and I went on a date. We celebrated our one-year anniversary with dinner and a movie on Saturday. It was the perfect evening for a high-heel sandal, but I chose to wear flats. We ended up walking around Clayton, so it was a good call. I didn’t realize how much I missed him.
Career Woman. I don’t even know where to start on this one. I’m on vacation, so I’ll just pretend this doesn’t exist.
Writer/Creative Soul. Surprisingly, blogging has helped me keep things in perspective. It reminds me to not get lost in the madness.
It’s a juggling act to be sure, and the priorities shift from day to day. Even with all the craziness going on right now, I appreciate everything my “womanness” allows me to be.

The Shoe Diva

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April’s been one hell of a month, and I’m happy to see it go. So much chaos surrounded Mom’s hospitalization, and I tried to keep the madness out of my own household, but it was unavoidable.

Late dinners and missed bedtimes by Mommy, combined with the absence of Granny, threw my daughter’s life out of whack. And like any kid whose life is knocked into a tailspin, my girl acted out.

E’s done so much fake crying, eye rolling, and arm folding, you’d think she was auditioning for a role on the CW. “We don’t give out awards for drama here,” I said. “When you grow up, you can take up acting and get nominated by the Academy.”

My reaction was not as she hoped, so E turned up the volume. After an incident involving lip gloss, I realized I was dealing with a diva. The best way to handle, I reasoned, was in true diva fashion.

“No sandals until you start listening to Mommy and Daddy,” I announced.

Her eyes widened. “What about my new flip flops? Or my nail polish from Granny?”

“I took them back. You won’t need any Barbie pink toenail polish either. No one will see your feet because you’ll be wearing socks and tennis shoes.”

“But Mommy…” she put on Sad Face #12.

“Don’t start. I may be able to get your flip flops back, but you need get yourself together now. Or you will be the only one at school in snowboots this summer.”

Even at 5 years old, E does not believe in wearing shoes out of season. She started to cry, for real. “I’ll try to do better, Mommy,” she said between sniffles.

So far, so good. She earned back one pair of sandals this week. I’m holding out the favorites — a pair of white flip flops with a silver flower — until I return from my business trip.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone