White Flag Flying

    

     Oh, you know those days.  We've all been there so don't even think about lying.  Take your hand away from your chest and wipe the "Me?" look off of your doe-eyed face. You know the ones. Those days when you think to yourself, "If I have to raise my voice one more time, I'm absolutely going to lose my freaking mind!"  Those days when you have absolutely convinced yourself that your darling little angels have become possessed by Satan himself.  (Okay, maybe too far.  We'll say demons.)  And if you're a stay-at-home mom like myself, those days when you have threatened, dare I say daycare on your kids and are already pulling up CareerBuilder and slamming down the Search button.  Well, let me tell you my friends, we have had a lot of those days lately here in our homestead.  I'm pretty shocked that:
                a. I haven't lost my voice yet
                b. I still have most of my hair. 
                Oh, and c. That I haven't run screaming from our house.
The white flag has been waving proudly! 

     As a mom (or any type of caregiver, really) I am always dubious about how well I am actually doing.  All. The. Time.  "Could I have handled that situation better?  Did I necessarily have to yell about what just happened?"  And that's another thing I've discovered about myself; I am not a yeller. I actually despise yelling!  Yeah!  And amazingly enough, it feels like it's what I do for 70% of the day when these two transform into their monster counterparts.  I swear I open my mouth to tell them to pick up toys or put their coats on and their little "Mommy Radar" beeps in their head to shut down the ears.  I'm not actually yelling because they're misbehaving, I am yelling just to be acknowledged.  My throat actually hurt today from trying to get Li'l B's attention.  *Enter a growl here because frankly, I physically can't scream*  Then I start to think, "Maybe they're doing this on purpose. Clever little devils."  And the veteran moms out there just say, "They're testing you.  Trying to see how far they can get."  Well.  I can tell you, I feel like I'm about to fail this "test" and as far as they're going to get is to their rooms. 

     I never wanted to be that mom who yelled all the time; I'd always been this laid-back, calm person so naturally I was under the impression that it would flow over into motherhood.  When I envisioned motherhood, it was me standing in a meadow, sunbeams cascading down over my shoulders, my hair blowing gently in the breeze, my arms outstretched towards my children as they ran laughing and smiling into my embrace, all of us falling over as one big giggling mess.  *slap*  Yes, that was reality slapping me right across the face.  My eyes are watering a tad.  Reality is...we yell just to be heard, we silently scream in our heads, we wonder if anyone is ever listening, and we talk to ourselves because we're the only ones who'll listen to ourselves.  (Did that make sense?  My brain feels fried, apologies.)

     Just as I'm waving my white flag high above my head yelling, "Uncle! Uncle," my little man comes up, wraps his arms around my legs and says, "I love you, mommy."  Then his sister takes the hint and hugs me, telling me how pretty I am.  The little devils drive me to the brink of insanity and the little angels bring me right back.

     Guess they don't want to go to daycare.  *wink*



    

Life Is Good

     So, a short while ago,  I went to the craft store to find some things for the wall I'm decorating behind our couch (it's only taken me 6 years, yes years, to do this; News Flash, I am no Martha Stewart) and found this script that reads, "Life Is Good".  I stared at it for a bit, envisioning how it would look where I thought it would go, but then realized that my mind had wandered (as it does a lot) to how our lives certainly are good.  I guess my mind figured, "Why put this saying up if it isn't true?"  Yeah, I'm weird like that.  You'll come to understand the madness.  Just give it time.

     I bought the script and as I ran other errands, I got to thinking about life; the good of it, the bad of it, how we got to where we are, the paths and roads we chose that got us to this point, how things could've been different had we chosen different options.  No one in this world is without worry.  I don't care who you are, there is something that matters to someone, everyone.  We do not know what others go through or are currently going through in their lives.  We wish for bigger houses, more money, better jobs, shiny cars, love, babies, the list is endless.  Do we ever just stop, look around and say to ourselves, "Look at all I have that makes my life good,"?  I did just that today, because I am guilty of wanting just a little more out of life or worrying about what may happen in the future, and not taking the time to look around at what I've already got, and truly appreciating it all.

 

     As I thought of everything that I have that I should rejoice about, being able to stay home with my kiddies topped the list.  And don't get me wrong, I loved working, and yes, still long to feel like a professional, but how many times while I was at work did I think, "God, I'd just love to be home right now, playing with my kids or discovering with them,"?  Too many times to count.  Now, I make our schedules (or am run by the kids' schedules), I get to go outside on warm days and have picnics in our backyard, create masterpieces on the front porch in chalk, become a monster that makes the kids join forces to defeat (during playtime, well, same may go for when mommy's having a bad day), full-time on-call boo-boo kisser, Play-Doh sculptor extraordinaire, and the best giver of hugs, all day long.  Sure, I don't get to punch out and call it a day or take off when I'm sick, and my income contribution is zero, but the good days far outweigh the bad and no amount of money could replace the memories being made.  And on those before mentioned "mommy bad days" when the kids are driving me to the very brink of insanity, I step back and think, there are people out there in the world who would just love to be able to have the kids to drive them crazy.  It's all about perspective. 

     Another thing I am grateful about is the fact that we have a roof over our heads and food on our plates.  Do we live in a huge house?  No.  (Plus, I shudder at the thought of cleaning a house that size.)  Do we go out to eat every night at fancy-schmancy restaurants?  Nope.  I make our meals, and due to the picky eaters, I sometimes even do special orders.  But we're very fortunate that we have these things and we know it.  We watch our finances and don't have all the cool, hip new gadgets out there, and that's fine. We are rich beyond measure in our own eyes. We know life can change on the turn of a dime. 



     What if for one whole day, we all thought, "Life is good"?  Really looked at the things we are blessed with in our lives and for one moment forgot about the negatives.  Friends, family, significant others, children, jobs, food, health, happiness, whatever matters to you, actually think about it and appreciate it.  Big things, small things, whatever matters most. Some people won't have what others do, but what means something to one person may not mean the same thing to another.  Take in the little things like watching the sunrise, hearing a bird call, smelling the fragrance of a Fall day, embracing someone in a hug, making someone smile with your kindness.  So many times people say, "I wish I could go back to when life was better, things were easier," etc.  Well, embrace these days, and let this time be the time and moments you'd like to go back to.  Because Life Is Good, you just have to step back and notice it.





    

Just a Swingin'

     I personally find myself always feeling like I'm in a rush, so in turn, I rush my kids.  No matter what they are doing, I find myself uttering, "Hurry up, will ya?"  Now, sometimes, the rush is warranted, like if we are running behind getting to preschool, dance, or a play date and one (if not both) kiddies decide that they want to try and strap themselves into their car seats.  (I literally picture my hair graying and the wrinkles forming as they take their sweet time trying to figure out the contraptions.)  On many occasions I've had to basically tell myself to slow down.  Why am I in such a hurry anyway?  Where's the fire?  (As if I could put it out.) We could have all the time in the world and yet for some reason I feel like we have to go a million miles an hour.  I blame society really for all the hustle and bustle just to actually get nowhere.  *wink*  Today however, I had a slow down moment.  And it was glorious.  I shall do it again soon.

     One of the memaws took Li'l B to storytime (which was a trial run that surprisingly went great, I think he's growing up!), so that left Miss G and me to ourselves.  She loves the park near our house but I am apprehensive to take both kids there as it is tailored more towards bigger kids, i.e. Miss G's age and older, and long falls for Li'l B. (The last time we went there, daddy was with us and had no fear about B climbing all over these skyscraper-height playlands and all I could picture was him tumbling through an opening....*shudder*.)  Okay, so maybe they're not "skyscraper" height, but to a mother, they are monstrous. So, I told her that we would go to the "Big Park", which brought on numerous squeals.

     We get to the park and G wants to climb up the dome, hang, drop down, climb again, hang, drop down, climb again, well, you get the gist.  So, I stand there, watching her, looking around, thinking of what I need to accomplish this afternoon.  While marking off "things to do" in my head, I hear G saying, "Mommy!  Mommy!  Let's go swing!"  And off she runs.  I walk towards her and decide to sit on the swing beside her.  She starts kicking her legs out and in, slowly getting higher and higher exclaiming, "This is FUN!"  I decide to partake.  As I get going higher and higher, I lay back so that I'm looking at everything behind me upside down. I started to feel like a kid again.  Free, no worries, just fun and giggles.  Miss G screams, "Mommy!  That looks like fun!"  I say to her, "It is!!"  The higher I go, the freer I feel.  Swinging isn't getting chores done around the house, it isn't getting us anywhere except for back and forth.  But the sun was shining down, we were both laughing, and I just relaxed and let the sunlight and warmth bask over me.  Right in the moment, lists disappeared from my mind, worries dissipated, I only concentrated on going higher, feeling the breeze on my face and through my hair.  I closed my eyes, seeing the red of the sun and gave all of it to flitter away in the wind.  I smiled. 

    Something as simple as swinging got me to thinking, we are so used to rushing around in this world: to the store, to doctor's appointments, to work, home, running errands, that we may unintentionally be rushing our children's childhoods too.  When they are trying to buckle their seat belts, we immediately rush in to do it for them instead of standing back and letting them learn.  Or when they are trying to tie their shoes, we want to swoop in as to save time.  When they are outside playing we may find ourselves bored because we feel it is not productive.  But it is.  Maybe if we followed a child's example, we'd all learn to slow down a bit, let go, and jump on the swings. 



     Miss G and me on our first swing together, 4.10.10.

When a Fishy Jumps Ship (aka, 1st Day of Preschool)

   



      I was surprised really.  I thought there would be lots of tears, constant hugging, grabbing onto ankles while crying out, "Don't leave me!"  But no.  I was brave.  Miss G had been so excited about starting preschool and I for sure thought, "Yeah, until the day of, then we shall see."  There were no tears, lots of hugging though (I just couldn't let her go, give me a break!), and strong smiles to cover up the heartache.  Okay, it was mainly myself that I was worried about because I realized one day that she is already a very strong, independent child, and while I'm extremely proud, it still scares the sh*t outta me!  Aren't I needed anymore?  Aren't I wanted?  It's just that easy to turn and walk away with a wave over her shoulder?  Oh the humanity! 

     Her little brother and I walked her into the building, G excitedly holding onto the straps of her book bag, eyes wide and full of excitement, big smile plastered on her face.  I held out my hand for her to grab and she politely said, "No mommy, I don't need to hold your hand, I want to hold onto my book bag."  I just looked down at her, bewildered, as if someone had come up and sucker-punched me in the stomach.  She proudly looked straight ahead, not noticing my shocked face.  "O-kay," I said slowly and held onto Li'l B a little tighter.  We got to her classroom and I thought, "Alright, this is where she'll realize what is going to happen.  That her brother and I will be leaving."  But instead, she ran right in, said hello to her teacher and started playing with the toys.  Her brother also slid out of my arms and ran off.  As we were leaving, G ran up to me and said, "Bye, mommy.  I'll miss you."  And gave me a big hug.  I told her to be good, gave her a kiss, and picked Li'l B up (after prying him off of her. We both had a tough time leaving).  He and I made our way from the room and as we were started down the hall I heard G's voice yelling, "Mommy!  Mommy!"  I turned around, ready for her to come running, crying out, "Don't leave!"  But instead she had Li'l B's blanket that he had forgotten in the classroom.  "Here mommy, B forgot this and I knew he would want it."  And just like that, she turned and ran back to her classroom.  I gave Li'l B another big squeeze. 

     When we went to pick her up, I asked her teacher how she'd been.  I fretted over her not getting her way and throwing a tantrum or that she had transformed into Miss Bossy-Pants.  Her teacher told me that my Miss G was most likely going to be her special helper as she is so "motherly".  A little boy in her class was crying after his parents left and G walked over to him, attempted to put her arm around him, and sang him a song about how "grown-ups come back".  Her teacher was extremely impressed, as was I.  I've seen how she can be with her brother but to go up to a boy she just met and try to console him, my heart swelled 5 sizes with pride.  I then realized again just how grown-up she was; no longer a toddler, void of how others feel, but a little girl filled with so much compassion and a caring spirit.  She did not need me to remind her to be nice or considerate, she stepped up without hesitation, and I couldn't be more impressed. 

     Whenever we leave our little ones (pretty much) to their own devices, without us around to guide them, or hover, they're really interchangeable, we wonder, "Are they making the right choices?  Are they behaving like civilized human beings?  What have I unleashed into the world?"  Everyday, and I'm aware I've said this before, I realize that they truly are watching our example, not just listening to the words we're spitting out at them.  They are learning compassion, sincerity, leadership, grace.  I know there will be misunderstandings, tantrums, anger issues, etc., but her first day truly exceeded my expectations.  And my own actually, for I absolutely thought I would bawl like a baby.  I guess that comes when Li'l B starts school because he is the last. And you know what?  She can't wait to go back. She has asked every hour, everyday and she only goes two days a week. (I better emotionally prepare myself again...this is exhausting!) 

    

    

Mike Check, One, Two...Is This Thing On?

                                                              

                                                             
                                  Li'l B checkin' the mike. Yup! It works, sometimes.


      I know you parents/caregivers have gone through the "I may as well talk to a wall" routine.  Some days I feel like all I do is yell at my children, and by that I don't mean yelling at them because they are misbehaving, but yelling just to be  heard.  I can say, "No," until I feel like if I say it one more time, I'm going to go running and screaming from the house.  Or just speaking loudly a lot to avoid injuries from them not understanding exactly why they cannot jump from the couch onto a chair.  *Oi Vey*  And was everyone aware that we are responsible for the people these little people become, was everyone aware of that?!  The things we teach them are the things they will carry through life; it will be how they live their lives!  (Please take a moment to grab that brown paper bag with me to breathe into.  Inhale, exhale. Repeat.)  Okay, moving on, shall we?


     Everyday our little ones are learning.  And a big way they learn is by watching us.  (Yes, you constantly have eyes on you, every moment of everyday. Just a tad disturbing, isn't it?)  Always watching, always taking in how we respond to circumstances.  But another way they learn is by what we are teaching them.  Now, this is where a lot of times, I almost walk over to the same wall I feel I should be talking to, and envision ramming my head into it.  Especially with Li'l B.  Now, it's not his fault, and his big sister went through this phase, but seriously.  Don't children learn by repetition?  By this point, Li'l B should know just by me raising my eyebrows that the next word out of my mouth is going to be, "No!"  But he doesn't.  Or should I say, the little monster is testing me.  And yes, he's very, very good at it.   

      Recently, my angel of a mother kept Li'l B so that Miss G and I could have some "mommy-daughter" time.  I fretted every second of every minute of everyday because I know how he can be lately at home, or especially in a store.  I call her up to check in on how he's been.  Very cautiously I ask the question...."So.......how's he been?"  I grimace, waiting for her to say, "Maybe you should come get him, he screams constantly and I can't get any grocery shopping done."  Instead, she exclaims, "Oh, he's been great! Such a little helper and when we went to the store, he helped me push the cart."  I sat stunned.  "You are talking about Li'l B, right?"  She laughed and said, "Honey, kids are more likely to misbehave with their parents.  You did it, and now they are doing it."  I had been trying to get this kid to hold onto the grocery cart for I don't know how long and he would always scream in the store, "Mommy, hold me!"  I received looks, oh yes, those looks.  And here he goes and acts just like I wanted him to for someone else.  So, wait.  Why exactly am I upset by this?  He is behaving how I have showed him is the acceptable way to behave.  He is helping, he is not throwing tantrums.  Eureka!  He was listening this whole time!!  *Happy dance, pat myself on the back*  Score one for momma. 

     The hubby and I are also trying to instill healthy eating habits with our children.  Not a lot of sugar, no pop, snacks are fruits and their drinks are milk, water or occasionally juice.  Now yes, they do get candy from time to time or ice cream, I mean come on, we're not heartless, but there is no harm in having your child make healthy choices.  Miss G was with friends one day and they decided to stop for lunch.  Some kids had pop and asked her if she would like some.  (Warning: Proud Momma Moment ahead...) Miss G said, "No thank you.  I don't drink pop."  Wwwhhhaaatttt?!  She listened and stuck to her guns.  She ordered water.  I have always feared the Peer Pressure, especially with her because she is a "follow the crowd" type of girl already.  *sigh*  So this was a monumental moment for me in Parenting. 

     A funny story that happened just this past week was when Miss G was at Vacation Bible School with my aunts.  All the kids were singing and naturally, God was mentioned in the song.  But Miss G refused to sing.  My aunt asked her why she wasn't singing and she replied, "I'm not allowed to say that."  My aunt, puzzled, asked, "What are you not allowed to say?"  G responded, "I'm not allowed to say 'God'."  Here is why Miss G refused: One day, she did something funny and the phrase, "Oh God" slipped out of my mouth.  (I know, I am to be banished.) Well, she repeated it, naturally.  So I sat down with her and said, "Sweetie, mommy's sorry, I shouldn't have said that.  We don't say, 'God'.  You can say, 'Oh my gosh,' or 'Oh my goodness,', okay?"  She said, "Okay, mommy, I'm sorry."  And that was that.  Low and behold, she listened!  And took that lesson with her and refused to say the word that she knew she could not say.  I am still astonished by this.  And I cleared up with my family that we are not devil-worshippers or anything like that. 

     Just when you think no one is listening, just remember, they are; they really are.  The hills may have eyes (get it?  If not, it's a movie), but the Walls Have Ears.  And every now and then, they perk up, even for a moment.  So remember this; the kiddies are watching, they are listening, and they are waiting to shock the hell out of you when you least expect it.  Always be on your toes.
    

The Art of Smart Defense

     When I was younger, heck, who am I kidding, even now that I'm mostly grown, I was/am an extremely passive person.  I was told the following phrase when I was younger from someone (and if they read this they will instantly know it was them, *wink wink*) and please, pardon the language, "You wouldn't say s*^t if you had a mouth full of it."  Yup, that pretty much summed up my personal defense skills to a "T".  I remember thinking, first of all, that was the grossest thing I'd ever heard, and two, it was very accurate.  I was a doormat for quite a few people. Walked all over because I was too nice, made fun of, poked fun toward, and yes, mostly right in front of me.  You know how some people can be, they want to impress someone or appear funny so it's aimed at your expense since hey, let's face it, you'll just stand there and take it.  But with my mentality, I just shrugged it off because I knew they were only trying to be "cool" and in my mind it was immature.  Less I digress and I really don't need to go back to aspects of childhood right now.  I was always better at standing up for others than for myself.  I have no idea why, it was just easier I guess.  I've never really experienced such an emotion as being aggressive or outspoken.  And why would I?  It wasn't in my nature.  But let me tell you, and many parents/caregivers, etc., will most certainly agree; it doesn't matter if you're the aggressive type, passive, quiet, reserved, don't give a hoot what anyone thinks; someone, anyone is rude or degrading to your babies, you go from zero to Incredible Hulk in point two seconds.  And I'm letting little bits of my Hulk out more and more lately.  Scared?  Boy, I know I am.

     Miss G is a social butterfly; she's sweet, friendly, calls kids she just meets her "best friends".  It makes my heart swell, truly.  For a little person to be so affectionate, it just blows me away.  I know where she gets her compassion from- moi.  As for the outgoing-side of her?  That is all her father.  (I was shy and passive, remember?)  Now that the temps have risen and the sun is shining in all it's glory, we are going to the park more often.  AKA, everyday.  Miss G of course desires to play with other little girls, because well, the only other kid around is her little brother.  She will actually chase girls around calling out, "Wait up, friend!"  And usually they run from her.  It honestly breaks my heart into a million pieces to where I want to physically hold those girls down and yell, "Would it kill you to let her play?!"  But, I restrain myself and nicely call out, "Sweet-Pea, why don't you come play with Mommy and Brover?"  The girl is resilient though, I must give her that. 

     So anywho...the last time we were at the park, I was with Li'l B at a slide and Miss G had asked a little girl if she could play and the little girl said yes.  (I did a fist-pump in my head.)  After about fifteen minutes or so of Miss G being fine enough to play with, the little girl's friend shows up and they start running away from my daughter; hiding on top of structures, laughing and pointing as they see her looking for them.  I, naturally, start feeling like I'm on fire.  Miss G finds them at one point and they again start running from her and she of course follows.  I hear the one bleach-blonde girl turn and yell, "STOP FOLLOWING US!"  The look on my beautiful, innocent, lovely daughter's face.....I can't even visualize it without my eyes misting up.  She was truly hurt down to her very core, and confused.  I will admit here that I held my tongue no longer.  I did not speak directly to the girls, but turned in their direction as I spoke to Miss G (very loudly) about not having to take little girls' rudeness and how she was fine to play with until someone else came along.  After that, the two girls kept eyeing me and I glared right back. 

     On our walk home, I tried telling her to stick up for herself and to not let others make her feel inferior.  Then I had to describe inferior because, well, she's three.  One of my exact sentences was, "Sweetie, have a voice.  Please don't sit back and let others make you feel bad.  Mommy never stuck up for herself, but know that I will always stick up for you.  I want you to be better than mommy was when she was little.  I want you to be strong, but smart about it too."  Then we went into nice ways to tell people if they are being rude or hurtful.  While chatting with her, it hit me.  She is three.  It deeply saddened me to even have this type of conversation with her so early in the game, but I realized it was necessary.

     It's funny what person you turn into when you have a child.  Personally, I went from extremely passive to Momma Bear in the blink of an eye.  These are my babies and no one, I mean no one, better make them feel an ounce of hurt or sadness.  At the same time, I also need to realize that it is inevitable that at some point, they will.  It is our job as their guides, protectors, mentors, to show them what they can do to resolve the problem, but not add to it by mirroring others' negative attitudes.  From the beginning of time, some kids have been just plain cruel; we've all either been a target or been the bully.  With bullying being a hot topic lately, all I could envision was these three girls grown and in high school; the two throwing their hair back and laughing, my daughter slinking her shoulders and hiding her face out of embarrassment. 

     I may not have the capability to travel back in time and slap myself into speaking up, but I sure as heck can speak up for my children and show them the proper way to react; how I wish I would've reacted so long ago.  The meek-era will end with myself.  It's a new era for my children.  Smart and Strong.  Strong and Smart.

    

                                                               

                                                               Miss G and Li'l B

A Mother Was Born

     With Mother's Day approaching, I wanted to take a moment to thank my babies (well, and my husband) for making me a mother.  It's really all I ever wanted to be.  (Besides a marine biologist, teacher, veterinarian, actress, writer, less I digress.)  It was one of those things I actually yearned for, and as I became older, I knew it was something I had to be.  For some people, they have no desire to have kids and that is perfectly fine, but for me, I knew children had to be a part of my life.  I felt that I was born to be a mother.  I've always said, I'm better with children and the elderly, and I can't give birth to an 80 year old, now can I. 

       When I became pregnant with our daughter, I was over the moon.  And to feel her move and kick, wow, utterly amazing.  I read all sorts of books about pregnancy, knew how big she was at certain gestational ages, the works.  Then she was born.  Wait a sec, I forgot to read what to do after they're born!  The nurse placed her in my arms, I looked at her squishy face...and I panicked.  If I remember correctly, I cried.  There were tears of joy, sure, and tears of "what the hell do I do now".  Wasn't this that magical moment I'd waited for?  My hair plastered to my face with sweat, sheer exhaustion taking over, her screaming about the fact that she was pushed out of her home.  Then, she stopped crying, and she opened her eyes.  She looked right at me and made these cute little sounds.  I played with her fingers and whispered, "You have long fingers like mommy."  She just stared back at me, knowing exactly who I was.  And I stared back at her, smiling, knowing exactly who I was too. I was her mommy. 

     With our son, he actually tried to arrive seven weeks too early.  I remember my OB saying, "You're in preterm labor, you need to go over to the hospital right now because this little guy can't arrive this early but he sure is trying."  I was scared, so scared.  My husband met me at the doctor's office and we sat in the waiting room while the nurses got my paperwork ready.  I was so silent, worrying, wondering, and he looked over at me, grabbed my hand and said, "He'll be alright."  I tried to hold in my emotions but being pregnant and frightened, that wasn't going to happen.  I started sobbing and apologizing.  My husband put his arms around me and just held me.  He said, "He's just in a hurry to meet his mommy."  That of course made me laugh and I started calming down.  Li'l B decided to stay put until one or two weeks before his due date.  (They kept changing it on me for crying out loud.)  Then, his shoulders became lodged making his birth a little more difficult.  After he was born, I was holding him in our room.  When he opened his eyes to look at me, I smiled and remember saying, "Well to be in such a hurry, you sure took your time getting out, little man."  After he was born, I felt complete, as if our little family was whole. 

     Mothers are born when their children are.  I think with each child, we grow a little more.  Everyday we wonder if we're getting it right; and we're really just winging a lot of it, but I think a lot of us are following our own mother's/parent's/caregiver's examples.  (I know I am.)  Giving love, encouragement, discipline when needed, and lots of hugs and kisses.  These are the little people we created.  They watch us and how we deal with life.  We can't scream at things not going our way and then wonder why they do the same thing, or get upset when they do.  They are little people just trying to figure this crazy world out.  And we are big people, also still trying to figure this crazy world out and the world of Parenthood.  I always say about my children, "From a dream, a reality."  And I couldn't feel more happy and blessed to have my dream come true. Yes, they may drive me to the brink of insanity some days, but I also smile a lot, watching them discover, grow, knowing I wouldn't have it any other way.  They are my babies and I am their mother.

    Have a wonderful Mother's Day fellow mommies.  Now go hug those babies!


                                                             

    

Letting Go

 "A mother holds her childrens' hands for a while, but their hearts forever." 

     Um, in regards to the whole "hand holding for a while" meaning a short time, apparently not me and not if we're at the pool.  Sorry, but I didn't get that memo.  And especially if one of those children is not even two-years old and is already a self-proclaimed "Evil Kenevil".  I thought I was a hovering momma at the playground, well, you ain't seen nothing if we're at the pool.  I actually had a man laugh at me because I couldn't let go of my son at one point, although Li'l B was pushing me away and saying, "Let go, mommy!", but we'll get to that in a moment. 

     The kiddies wanted to go to our local YMCA to go swimming, and my hubby and I thought that this was an excellent way to wear them out before naps, er, I mean a very good family outing, making special memories and all that.  We get there, get everyone stripped down to their bathing suits in the family changing room and proceed to the pool.  Miss G of course runs into the shallow end and by shallow, I mean to her knees..  (I know this child will not do anything that would make her head or hair even touch the water, so I watch her while trying to hold Li'l B's hand to guide him slowly into the water.  He is not even two, so his balance is not that of a trapeze walker.  Naturally, or should I say, instinctively, he says, "No, mommy," as he pushes my hand away.  Lately, I've become so accustomed to this gesture that the tears have finally ceased to exist.  I say, "Okay," and put my hands up in front of me in a "I surrender" gesture and he proceeds to walk out into the water.  Now, my hubby has been taking him for swim lessons, or them just playing in the water, for a little while now while I watch our daughter at ballet class, so he is in the know of what Li'l B is capable of handling, aquatics-wise.  I am still right behind Li'l B in case he falls.  My stomach at this point has moved to my throat with every little misstep.  I look over at my hubby and say, "Maybe we should get him one of the life jackets to wear, you know, in case he slips or something."  My husband laughs and says, "Seriously?  The water is to his shins, he's fine.  We do this all the time in his lessons.  You need to calm down a little bit."  He was lucky that all he got was a glare for that. 

     We proceed to where it is a little deeper, making our way to a water playground where they can slide, play under the shooting water, etc.  *Stomach still in throat as the water has now gone over his trunks* He's on a mission though, sure to get out to the stairs that lead up to a *gulp* water slide.  This water slide is not very extravagant, but to a mommy of a little guy, it looks like something at an actual water park.  Li'l B proceeds to climb the stairs, me right beside him, fighting with him to hold my hand.  Naturally, he refuses.  And, I'm the only parent going up with her small child.  I really couldn't have given two flying, well, you know how that phrase turns out.  Anywho, he makes it to the top only to then be overtaken by the stage fright.  *Mommy exhales and does a happy dance internally*  Then his father at the bottom yells, "Come on, bud!  You can do it!"  Again, he got a glare.  So Li'l B decides, "Yes, I'm going to do this."  He sits down and I'm holding onto his arm.  He says, "Let go, mommy."  And I reply, "Honey, mommy can't."  This kid literally went down almost half the slide with me clinging to his arm until he got to a point where I couldn't reach without going down the slide with him....and I let go.  I think my heart stopped while watching him slide down by himself, imagining him toppling backwards and the water that pools at the bottom covering him like a blanket, him not knowing how to hold his breath underwater...I have an overactive imagination as if you couldn't tell by now.  Instead, he sat the whole way down, squealing, his daddy catching him at the bottom, and he turned to me and yelled proudly, "Mommy!! Again!"  *Stomach, back up  into my throat.*

     See, as parents, we always see our children as babies, helpless without us, not knowing what to do in life without our guidance or protection.  (And mine are only toddlers, this is magnified I'm sure for those with older children.)  "They need me, I must protect them, what if they get hurt, what if they don't know what to do?"  I guarantee all these question cross my mind daily, and yes, sometimes I think, "Maybe extremely nervous Nellie's are not meant to have children, some days, it's torture!"  But I have to realize that if I hover over them and make their decisions or hold them back from exploring, they're not going to experience beautiful things in life.  Yes, they may even fall *gasp* and get hurt, but that's also an experience and a learning opportunity that they must go through.  I can protect them for so long, but I must stop overprotecting.  And for the record, mom or dad, if you're reading this, I totally get what you went through now, and I have nothing but the up most love and respect for you.  (Quit grinning.) 

     My favorite part of today was when I let go.  Because the utter joy and excitement that I saw flash across my little man's face, well, you couldn't have put a price on it.  He was so proud. And if I had held on, it never would have been. 
    

The Toddler and the Tough Stuff

     How do you describe to a toddler just how unfair life can be?  What words would you choose to use?  What tone of voice?  One big question I face, and I'm sure other parents/caregivers do also is, do I really want them to know right now?  Won't they learn soon enough, and when do we subject them to the wicked ways of life; that sadly not everyday is filled with sunshine and lollipops?  Should I prepare my toddlers before they start school or go over it with them the night before?  *Insert scream here* In their minds, everything is right and fair in their little worlds, and I must admit, I'm jealous of their naivety.  I am aware of children out there affected by disease and my heart aches for them and their families, to have to go through that hell but also have to come up with words and an explanation for a child that does not understand what is happening to them or more importantly, why. This can go for any "unpleasant" circumstances in life, really.  My daughter, by asking a simple question about her pop-pop (who was diagnosed with ALS in 2005), diverted me from "what will I say", to "what do I say".  I was not prepared for her statement that she made to me, and in a quick instant, I had to decide what to do about my toddler, and the tough stuff. (I will admit now that, at the end of our discussion, I was smiling and laughing and filled with the most peaceful feeling, which I haven't felt in a long time when discussing my dad's illness to anyone.)  Put a check in the "Win" column...this time. 

     As we traveled back from the store, my daughter told me out of the blue, "Mommy, I can't wait for when pop-pop is not in his wheelchair anymore."  I was actually shocked by her exclamation and slowly responded, "Oh, honey, pop-pop will always be in a wheelchair."  She asked me why and I thought very hard about how to describe his illness to a 3-year old.  She tries so hard to understand, but I know she can't grasp it, heck, sometimes I don't even grasp it.  She said, "I wish he could fly a kite with me like my other pop-pop and build snowmen and go sledding and go swimming.  Will he be able to when he's not sick anymore?"  This is when I had to take a moment to regain my composure, and also think of what to say to her.  So, instead of talking about the "right now" or the "what may happen", I decided to tell her all about how pop-pop used to be. 

     I started off by telling her that pop-pop used to lift mommy and mommy's brothers real high as we hung from his arms.  To this she said, "Mommy, pop-pop is so strong!"  I smiled and said, "Yes, honey, he is."  Then I told her how pop-pop used to go swimming with mommy and how he dove off of the high dive, barely making a splash when he entered the water.  She said, "So he put his face in the water? I can't do that."  I laughed and answered, "Yes, and he would swim under the water with his eyes open and grab mommy's legs!"  She giggled and for the first time I heard her say, "I want to learn to swim underwater."  I smiled and proceeded to tell her that pop-pop was mommy's soccer coach and how we would go down to our local park and he would practice with me so I could get better.  She of course said, "I want to play soccer like you, mommy!"  (I swelled with pride at that a little.) I told her how pop-pop used to water ski, (which she didn't understand), how we went camping, how pop-pop rode his bike all the time, and how he made mommy laugh a lot.  She was quiet for a while and I wondered if what I had said made any sense to her, when she said, "I wish pop-pop could do all that with me."  At that, my tears broke free and I quickly wiped them away, knowing that he wished he could too. And then she started talking about something totally unrelated, Strawberry Shortcake or something, and I knew her inquisition was over. 

     The thing is, toddlers do not understand the injustice or evil happening in our world, and why would they?  They are the essence of purity and goodness.  So, I decided that instead of trying to explain a situation to her that is negative, I would take her back to when things were good and pure in my eyes.  She will no doubt, no matter how hard I attempt to reflect it, experience pain and hurt and see just how cruel life can be.  But not today, or as long as I can prevent it.  Today, she will hear of happiness and goodness.  And I will be the same way with my son.  I want them to promote peace and understanding throughout their lives, and although they will see or be affected by things in this world that they shouldn't have to, I want them to take in the knowledge that they do not have to give in to the unpleasantness; but they can be aware of it, yet decide to see the positive and be the positive, whether it be looking ahead, or in some cases, glancing back.

                                                      Miss G with her Pop-pop  June 2010




    

    

    

Down to One Fish

     It's funny, when you have two children, four, or eight, when one goes to stay with Grandma and Grandpa (or anyone really), it feels like you've suddenly been given a vacation.  You are down one child, time to par-tay!  It doesn't seem like anything should change because you still have the remaining, or in my case the one, to deal with, but it certainly does change your days.  One less kiddy to strap into their car seat, one less kiddy to take out of their car seat, one less to haul into the grocery store, one less to chase in the store, one less to argue with, well, you get the drift.  Don't get me wrong, I miss my absent child terribly when they are not with me, but I love that I can give the existing child more attention that they've been sharing with their sibling.  (And, of course, errands are a tad quicker. Score!)  The negative- it also makes you realize just how much you can actually get done around the house when the younger child has the older one to play with.  And if that child is removed from the equation, all that's left is you. Oh, no. *slowly removes party hat*

     My daughter has gone to stay with her Memaw and Pop-pop for the week so that leaves just me and her little brother, getting to have one-on-one time to throw (or "frow" in Li'l B's terms) his basketball back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, honestly this could go on all night, and no, I am not exaggerating.  It gives us extra time to play cars and bang on instruments and play cars and chase each other around the house and play cars and shoot his basketball and play cars and wrestle which is really him just choking me...did I mention play cars?  Good, I thought maybe I forgot that activity.  It also gives me a chance to realize just how much I depend on his big sister to help me out.  She is a fellow kiddy so she has relatively the same amount of energy as he does.  I am an adult.  I do not possess this much energy anymore.  After a few activities I'm ready for a break, whereas he is rip-roaring to go and get into something else.  I think his new favorite game to play with me is, "Mommy, wake up!"  This little bugger won't even let me rest my eyes for crying out loud!  And try to sneak into the kitchen to make dinner?  Ha!  Forget that, Jack.  He comes running in yelling, "Mommy, where are you?! Play!" And off he runs back into the living room expecting me to follow. 

      Our daughter has become such the helper with her little brother and I realize this even more when she's not around.  I will tell her, "Now, mommy needs to call *insert who I need to call* and I need it to be quiet, can you play blocks with your brother?"  And she does.  I'll even hear her trying to quiet him down if he squeals or yells, telling him, "Brover, shhh, mommy is on the phone so we need to be quiet."  This just truly amazes me to no end.  So when she's gone and I try to make a phone call, my son is staring at me, screaming "Mommy" over and over to the point where I hang up before anyone answers.  And Heaven help me if they already have and I have to apologize repeatedly. So. Embarrassing. 

     Now this all may be very different for those who have more than two children so when one is gone, you are still left with playmates for the remaining kiddos.  This is when I wish we had stuck with our plan of having three, but after two, I threw in the towel. (But that's for a different blog.)  On days where I am my son's sole companion, I could kick myself at times.  Hard.  Oh wait, he does that for me.  He's such a sweetheart. So this week, I get to spend some quality time with my little man, the house gets to be neglected, the bills will be paid at night after he is in bed, we will pretend that there are no such things as phones and we will play.  We will run.  We will throw the ball back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. Now, I feel like I'm forgetting something. Oh yes, we will play cars, multiplied by 1000.  And you know what?  I will most certainly enjoy every minute of it.  Until I get to pass out onto our bed from exhaustion.  Well, bring it on little man. Bring. It. On.

Wait, how many days until Miss G comes home?!

War and Peace

     There is absolutely no better sound than the sound of your kiddies getting along, am I right?  It's as if the Heavens have opened up and shined a bright, glowing beam down upon your family while the angels sing the most beautiful rendition of "Hallelujah" that your ears have ever had the pleasure of hearing.  But we all know this peace cannot last, oh no, no, no.  That would be unheard of.  And it's as if these tiny creatures know it!  I think they feel our sense of relaxation or see our faces beaming with pride and amazement.  I truly believe my kiddies see and sense all of this and "regroup" behind the couch to have a Meeting of the Minds.  That is where they decide that they have played nice long enough, mommy's defenses are down, and they are planning the moment to strike.  Clever little devils.

     I love watching my daughter and son play together in perfect harmony.  I could watch them all day, if only the peace lasted that long, and sadly, it only lasts about the lifespan of a fruit fly.  When they ARE playing nicely together, it is music to my ears.  One game they love to play is "Chase".  Of course my daughter absolutely loves this game because she gets to boss her little brother around and he is more than happy to oblige, which a lot of the time is how most of their games go.  The other day she would run into the kitchen, yell for him to run in there, and as he ran in, she ran out.  This produced high octaves of giddy screams and they did this, back and forth from kitchen to living room, for maybe 10 minutes.  (Which is quite a while in Toddler Time.)  I sat back and peacefully watched them entertain themselves until my son grabbed a ball he found in the living room and his attention quickly went from "Chase" to "Throw".  My daughter wasn't having any of that...cue the War of the Toddlers.  I hear her scream at him as she slaps the ball out of his hands, hurling him into an epic meltdown.  He's screaming, trying to get his ball back as I walk in since I know this will not end peacefully without a mediator.  I tell her to give him the ball back which throws her into an hour-long (not really, but it sure did seem like it to me) speech about how he is not doing what she says and he is SUPPOSED to always listen to her but he is NOT and she is MAD.  I tell her to not be so bossy which then ignites her meltdown of astronomical proportions.  As she's crying, he walks up to her and hands her his ball, then says, "Sorry, sissy," and gives her a hug.  I stand there, absolutely speechless.  WTH just happened here?! 

     I can't help but play the song "Imagine" by John Lennon in my head to drown out the screams and wailing of my two perfect angels when they are in the throes of their wars.  I picture them fighting in slow motion with the song playing in the background, horrible, I know. I also like to rewind my memory back to when they were laughing and delightfully squealing with each other not just 5 seconds ago.  I have come to discover that a toddler's will is not just extremely strong, it is like, survive an Apocalypse strong.  My husband and I laugh with each other and blame the other one for both of the childrens' inherited "hard-headedness", but in a way it makes us nervous, because we now know just what we're up against. 

     When our daughter was born, I immediately knew that I didn't want her to be an only child.  I went through that having half-brothers and let me tell you, I created quite the imagination for myself, but it was lonely most of the time.  Now, on days of constant war, I ask my husband as soon as he walks through the door, "Just whose idea was it anyway to have more than ONE child?!"  I know they truly love each other; if our son is getting reprimanded for doing something wrong and starts crying, his big sister is right there hugging him and doing things to make him laugh.  If she hurts herself and is crying, her little brother is there, head to one side looking at her and asking, "Sissy, okay?"  And he is also quick to wrap his arms around her to provide comfort if she gets into trouble.  And then, in the next second, he might grab a toy of hers and she yanks it right out of his hands, he starts screaming, hits her, and then she starts screaming and hits him back, thus initiating yet another war all over again.  But no one on the outside better mess with either, or they will feel the wrath of the other sibling; for it is the unspoken agreement of brothers and sisters.

     Fight like cats and dogs, yet always have each others' backs.  War and Peace.  It's an art, really.  And they are mastering it VERY well already. 

    

    

There must be a beginning

     This blog has been a long time in the making.  I've thought many times about having one but thought, "What do I really have to say?"  So, the idea was set to the side with a pin in it, you know, for later.  After posting to my Facebook page, comments said by my kids or conversations we had, I was told by many people that I needed to either write a book or blog about these things.  Suddenly, I had a reason to blog (and maybe write a book, we shall see).  But I wanted to expand it some, by sharing my inner thoughts as well, because most moms, and dads, think the same things, but a lot are too afraid to voice them, and we shouldn't be!  We're human and that's alright. It's not until we see someone else saying, "My kids are driving me crazy!" that we finally exhale and think, "Mine too. Thank goodness it's not just ME."  So let's all exhale, we deserve to. 

     After my daughter transitioned into Toddlerhood, she started to become, well, a toddler.  She questioned (and still questions) everything, got into everything, made everyone around her informed of any little thing she did, i.e. during a friend's wedding reception when the preacher asked everyone to bow their heads for prayer, she loudly exclaimed to me that, "I have a poopy in my diaper!" and yes, she was very proud, while I on the other hand, was very red, or scarlet for a truer color, from embarrassment.  She now is expanding her vocabulary and conversations and mimics anything she hears in passing.  A lot of "verbal projectory" I really have no idea where it comes from, which actually makes it even funnier. 

     My son, who is almost two, is rounding that corner.  Right now, he is still mastering some words and at times it sounds like he curses like a sailor.  Yes, I have received looks in stores and am "that mom" who will always rush to explain.  Heaven forbid one's child be....a child.  He also has become prone to running away from me in stores, thus initiating a large, loud game of "chase" that ends with me carrying a screaming, kicking toddler and receiving unwanted attention.  I sometimes just can't contain the joy. 

     I always had this "Hallmark Daydream" about Parenthood.  Sitting on lush, green grass having a picnic, sharing, laughing; basking in the warm sun as we eat our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, then after lunch we run and pick dandelions and blow the furry seeds into the wind.  Like I said, it was a daydream.  I've learned that in reality, the other wants the other's sandwich (although they are the SAME. EXACT. SANDWICH) because the one sandwich "looks better".  The youngest actually eats the dandelion and somehow, just somehow, someone always ends up with a knot on their forehead or bleeding, so the trip is cut short so mommy can play paramedic.

     In all seriousness, I love getting the chance to actually stay at home with my kiddies.  It's like any other job where you want to leave early some days and want to call off sick some others.  But a lot of days, truly, there are those moments where you think to yourself, "Wow. I get to do this everyday."  And it is so worth it.  Just remember to breathe.

     Until our next adventure....