Defining Motherhood

The Perfect Man

2012-01-25T17:42:00.003-05:00

The portrait of a perfect man: Matt when Jonas was a newborn.

As much advice and wisdom I have, I do my best not to share it all the time. Instead, I keep it to myself unless first asked. Well, sometimes. But recently I had a moment when I had to share a bit of wisdom that could forever change the path of one girl’s life and ultimate choice of a husband.

A few weeks ago, I was talking to our babysitter who is a senior in high school. She was asking about our preparations for the baby. Somehow the conversation went to diapers and how Matt has always handled the late night changes, while I do the feedings. She said, “Wow! He changes diapers.” My response was just about as astonishing. I mean, this kid is half his, so of course he’d do diapers. There is no other option. But then I realized that not everyone is as fortunate as me. Not everyone has a partner who pitches in and helps out, especially in the middle of the night. And so, I had to lend her a bit of advice. I looked her squarely in the eyes and said with all honesty, “When you are dating a guy, find out if he does diapers. If not, forget him. Hollywood romance doesn’t matter. But having a guy who does late-night changings does.”

I know she didn’t ask me for love life advice, but I felt it was a bit of information that had to be shared. And I’m sure some day she will thank me for it.

Pregnancy Annoyances

2012-01-18T10:49:00.001-05:00

I’m just a few short weeks away from my due date. As with my first two babies, I’m in no rush to see the pregnancy end. I find babies are more portable and easier to care for in utero, so I don’t mind letting them chill out and take their time coming into the world. It also helps that I have had very smooth and uneventful pregnancies. If I were more uncomfortable, perhaps I’d be in more of a rush. Thankfully I’ve avoided the typical pregnancy complaints, such as morning sickness, indigestion, varicose veins, etc. But I have to admit that there are a few annoyances that I look forward to not having to deal with once the little one arrives. Those include:

Having to constantly pull up my pants and pull down my shirt as my belly does its best to fight its way out.
Being able to wash only a few dishes at the sink before my back begins to hurt from having to hunch over to reach the faucet.
Getting winded going up the stairs.
Exerting a decent amount of effort just to roll over at night.
Debating how badly I need to retrieve an item if it falls on the floor, as opposed to leaving it there until one of the kids can get it.
Balancing carefully and with great caution as I quickly try to put on my socks…and pray it works on the first attempt.
Grunting when I stand up, sit down or sometimes move in general.
Exploding ankles that are the size of my calves. Thank goodness it’s not shorts season.

Even still, those annoyances are nothing compared to what some women experience. So, I suppose I’ll waddle my way through the next few weeks, all the while hiking up my pants and enjoying these last moments of being pregnant.

Style Defined

2012-01-10T16:04:00.000-05:00

"Style is knowing who you are, what you want to say, and not caring what anyone else says." ~ Gore Vidal

Kenna has a style and flare all her own. She can sport a pink frilly dress one moment, a Super Girl costume the next and something from her brother’s closet by the end of the day. She wears them all with confidence and pride. But it’s not really about the outer appearance. It’s the spark, conviction and thirst for life that exudes from her core that is so captivating. I know part of it is childhood innocence, but it’s a confidence I hope she doesn’t lose as she grows older. If she can hang on to that self-assurance, it will serve her well in the future, as well as anyone who happens upon her path.

Here’s to self-confidence, to beauty that bursts from the inside, to exuberance, to a glass that’s always full, and a life that is always new, exciting, thrilling and beautiful. And here’s to having the courage to never let it go.

New Year’s Reminders

2012-01-04T15:28:00.001-05:00

It’s the New Year and the traditional time to make resolutions. I’ll be honest, with the baby a month away, I’m not really looking to set steadfast goals. Would I like to write a book? Absolutely. Brush up on my French? Oui. Drop each and every pound of baby weight? I think that answer is pretty obvious. But, with this being my third baby, I know what lies ahead and I don’t want the pressure of caring for a newborn, while feeling guilty if I don’t have the energy to meet certain objectives. So, I’m not making resolutions this time around. Instead, I’m reminding myself of what I feel is important and desirable. And, so, my New Year’s reminders are as follows:

Finally settle on a baby girl name.
Have a natural birth with a healthy mom and baby.
Spend at least the first year nursing without complaining about the time commitment.
Read a lot, even if I’m tired from caring for a newborn.
Run. And feel blessed to be able to do it again.
Encourage a good sleep schedule for the baby, but don’t be beholden to it.
Be more flexible. And I’m not talking about touching my toes (though that would be nice, too).

What about you? Did you set any resolutions or reminders?

Super-Warp Speed Pregnancy

2011-12-20T18:52:00.000-05:00

What’s it like being at the end of pregnancy during Christmas? It’s like living in super-warp speed. The end of pregnancy can go quickly enough, as does the holiday season. Combine the two and a month feels like the blink of an eye. While I am looking forward to meeting our little one, I’m still perfectly okay with slowing down this last month-and-a-half and taking some time to breathe before we are caught up in the whirlwind of the newborn stage. I’ve never been one who has been overly impatient for the end of pregnancy, and this time around is no exception. Perhaps some of that has to do with having good, complaint-free pregnancies. But a greater part is because I remember the sleepless nights, endless nursing sessions and labor pains. So, I’ll do my best to relax and enjoy my sleep for as long as possible…aside from the nighttime bathroom trips.

At my most recent appointment, I received an early Christmas gift. It was the news that the baby is in fact head down. This little acrobat has flipped around so many times that a week ago it felt as if the baby was sideways at one point and diagonal at another. I have stepped up the exercises to encourage baby head down and thankfully as of today, the kiddo has cooperated. My midwife assured me that most likely if the baby is head down now, it will stay that way because it would take a lot of effort to flip breech at this point. Let’s hope that’s true!

While that was a great gift, I would like one more thing for Christmas: a baby name my husband and I can agree upon. We have come up with a boy name with little difficulty, but that girl name is still giving us problems. Hopefully we’ll have some divine inspiration this Christmas and our search will finally be over.

DIY: Keepsake Ornaments

2011-12-19T09:10:00.000-05:00

I’m not a crafty person. Well, I suppose I could be, but it’s just not a priority at this point in my life. But, I am somewhat of a sentimental person, especially when it comes to Christmas. I’ve seen themed Christmas trees, all unified in color or subject matter, but to me, that’s not a Christmas tree. I prefer to fill my tree with ornaments collected throughout my life, including my very own “baby’s first Christmas” ornament. So, when I saw the idea for making keepsake ornaments on Pinterest thanks to In My Own Style, I had to try it.

Matt and I have a tendency to hang on to things like special mementos and old keys. So, I gathered Brinkley’s old dog tag; a memento from one of our first dates; and keys from our first cars, our first house and more. All it took was a little ribbon, some ornament hooks and cardstock to label each one. Now, we have our very own small tree filled with personal keepsakes. The cost was negligible, but the sentimental value is priceless.

Choosing Gratefulness Over Stress

2011-12-15T10:18:00.000-05:00

Two important reasons to be grateful and not stressed.

I could stress out right now. After all, I have 8 major work projects, plus other deadlines I must meet over the next few weeks. Not to mention preparations for holiday gatherings we are hosting. We still need to pick up a few more gifts. And of course I haven’t even begun wrapping any that we do already have. Oh, and did I mention we have about 7 weeks until the baby will be joining us and we haven’t even begun to wash the clothes, diapers, blankets, burp cloths, etc., let alone set up the co-sleeper or changing table? So, I could take this moment to freak out a bit and wonder how everything will get done, while still chasing around my 3- and 5-year-olds. But instead, I’m taking a few moments to reflect and be grateful.

Why am I not taking the more typical road of being stressed out and a bit jumpy? Because I’ve read a few too many status updates lately. I’ve read about one woman breaking her foot on the day of her anniversary. Instead of a romantic evening out, she spent it in the ER. I read about another woman’s struggle with a chronic disease that has not been taking it easy on her lately. One friend had a cousin lose her 2-week old baby. Then there is the woman I interviewed the other day who over the last 22 years has battled seven types of cancer. She told her amazing story of strength and faith through some dark times. Yet, she has emerged a fighter and has no fear of what is to come. But, finally, today is the birthday of a little girl who should be celebrating her first year. Instead, we are honoring the memory of this precious little one who fought hard and touched the lives of many in her short time here on earth.

So, I could look over my to-do list for today and the weeks to come, and I could wonder how I will get it all done without pulling out my hair. But instead, I’m going to breathe deeply. I am going to choose to be thankful for the opportunities I have—for the ability to give those gifts that must be wrapped; for the chance to do the work I love, while still being with my kids; for the little hands who will help me bake those cookies and prepare for our holiday gatherings. And, ultimately, I will hug my little ones a bit more tightly and realize just how blessed I am. Because after all, it is a choice as to how I approach today and the days to come. And I choose gratefulness.

DIY Kids Christmas Tree

2011-12-08T08:43:00.001-05:00

As a kid I always enjoyed decorating for Christmas. In similar fashion, my kids like to put their designer touches on things. So, I decided to give them something they can have decorative ownership of. It required a bit of craftiness on my part, and inspiration thanks to Pinterest and the Empty Bobbin Sewing Studio. It only took a bit of felt, some glitter glue and a touch of patience to create. And, now they have their very own Christmas tree to decorate to their hearts’ content.

Using a large piece of green felt, I cut out a tree shape. I then cut out various ornament shapes from different colors of felt. Then the kids had their chance to get involved and show their craftiness (hence the need for patience). With glitter glue in hand, they decorated the ornaments, firmly believing that more is more. After a few days of drying, the ornaments were ready. Since felt sticks to felt, the ornaments magically stick to the tree with no need for Velcro or the like. Using Command strips, we placed it on the wall and voila! The tree is complete. Even Bailey enjoys it. Well, she prefers undecorating it and running around with the ornaments in her mouth. Maybe next year she’ll get the concept a bit more.

Our Newborn Bailey

2011-12-05T16:40:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago, we welcomed the newest member to our family: a 6-month-old golden retriever named Bailey. When our nearly 14-year-old golden, Brinkley, passed away a few months before that, we wondered when or even if we’d get another dog. I am an animal lover, but I do admit that not having to tell the kids to watch their step as they played in the backyard was kind of nice. Yet, in typical fashion, it took just a short time before I began craving the companionship of yet another four-legged animal.

As we began our search, family, friends and even pet adoption agencies asked if we really wanted to get a dog when we have two little kids and another on the way. Both my husband and I grew up with animals, him more so since his dad has spent years training animals of different varieties. We explained that, yes, we felt we knew what we were doing. If we got a pup now, we could have her somewhat trained before the baby’s arrival. Plus, what’s a little more chaos in a family with 2.5 kids already?

And so, we located a family in Goshen who was seeking a home for their golden pup. We met Bailey (or Bubbles, as she was previously known). Her disposition impressed us and soon we were bringing her home. What’s interesting is how much she has been preparing us for life with a baby. It has been three years since we’ve had a newborn and our selective memory has attempted to block out certain details. Thanks to Bailey, I am once again reminded of the work and care that will be required of us in a few months. Here are just a few ways she is helping to prepare us:

Late-night wakings. The second night she barked nearly the entire night. Thankfully she didn’t require any diaper changes, but I was glad that she quickly caught on to the sleep routine after that one night. Hopefully she can teach the baby to do likewise.

Clean-ups. Being only kennel trained and not house broken, we’ve gone through our fair share of carpet cleaner in the last few weeks. Our version of diaper duty is paper towels and Resolve cleaner.

Dog proofing. This dog likes to put everything in her mouth—toys, paper, socks, mulch. The good news is that you can typically retrieve it before she eats it, except for when it comes to the mulch (makes you wonder what her food tastes like).

Safety gates. Our ability to walk freely between rooms is once again restricted as we use baby gates to sanction the dog into a designated area until the clean ups become a thing of the past.

Constant companionship. One of the biggest surprises to me when Jonas was born was how much he wanted to be held and cuddled. I had heard that babies slept a lot and had this misconception that he’d rest peacefully in his crib or bassinet as I went on with my day. Instead, I wore him in slings and wraps a lot (even at the computer), and toted him along wherever I went. No, I don’t have a Doggie Bjorn for Bailey, but she is my shadow, regardless of whether I’m running downstairs to grab dinner out of the freezer or sitting at my desk typing away. And, yes, she even likes to accompany me on bathroom breaks, reminding me that moments of solitude are about to be few and far between.

The Fidgety Fetus

2011-11-30T15:27:00.001-05:00

I just finished listening to the recent episode of PregTASTIC on epigenetics and the science of pregnancy. And I’m scared. What bothered me about the episode wasn’t the thought of how my choices and actions in pregnancy could affect the developing fetus. That can be frightening in and of itself. After all, that is a lot of pressure on the pregnant woman, making her feel as though she must exercise often, avoid eating too many hamburgers, keep the stress levels low, and so on. It could take mom guilt to a whole new level. But, what concerned me most was the discussion about how fidgety fetuses can turn out to be feisty kids.

My first two were fidgety enough in pregnancy and have turned out to have their fare share of feistiness. So, when I signed up for #3, it was with the unwritten understanding that this one would be that textbook baby that I’ve read about. I have heard that babies can be calm, relaxed, laid back and easy going. If in utero movement is any indicator, the existence of that textbook baby for our family will remain only in books. And I’m beginning to think those books are more of the fiction variety.

The statement that scared me most during the episode was when Jena Pincott, author of “Do Chocolate Lovers Have Sweeter Babies?” said, “Researchers found the more fetuses kicked and fidgeted during pregnancy in response to a stimulus, the more excitable that baby was after birth.” As I said, my first two were active enough, but this one takes activity to a whole new level. This baby is known for not just little kicks and movements, but for breath-taking (literally) jolts and jumping jacks that make my stomach look like an alien is about to burst forth. I can hope this child is using its energy now and will be more relaxed once born. I know that probably won’t be the case, but as I chase after two active kiddos already, I need to hold on to that hope. For sanity’s sake, I need to think there is a possibility of having that textbook case. I know I will be faced with reality soon enough, but until then, a girl can dream, can’t she?

Remembering the Art of Relaxation

2011-11-23T16:32:00.001-05:00

I used to be an expert napper. I had this ability to snooze for 2 to 3 hours on any given Sunday afternoon. On warm, summer, weekday afternoons, I was known for lounging in the backyard with a book, while catching some Z’s before heading back to work. It was a beautiful thing.

At that stage in my life, I knew how to kick back, breathe deeply and chill out. Now, I have found that multi-tasking is consuming me. Some of this multi-tasking is out of necessity. For instance, there are moments when I must pause from making lunch to get Kenna into the bathroom, while also removing some child’s toy from our new puppy’s mouth and catching the phone before it goes to voicemail. But there are other moments when it is less necessary and yet I find myself caught in its snare. Case in point, I have become a bit obsessed with Words with Friends. It’s a fun game I can play with friends even when we’re not together, and it helps me feel like I’m using my brain. But, I often find myself distracted during an evening movie with my husband as I try to figure out how to unload that pesky “X” before the game ends.

I am often lost during moments of “downtime,” feeling as though I should be doing something, even if that downtime is a few minutes of waiting for the pup to relieve herself outside. So, I grab my iPod, fire up Facebook, Pinterest or the like, and scroll away. It’s gotten to be such a habit that when waiting to pick Jonas up from school, I get frustrated that there’s no Wi-Fi to entertain me. So, I turn to NPR and Diane Rehm to hold my interest and keep my mind occupied because how could I possibly allow myself to simply sit back and daydream for a few minutes? Time is precious and I must maximize what little I have available to me.

This past weekend, I took an afternoon to chill out. I chose a movie, grabbed a warm blanket and camped out on the couch. I admit that it was tempting to open up the laptop and surf the net, but I resisted. Instead, I enjoyed the flick, or what I saw of it. I am proud to say that I did find a bit of my old, relaxing self, the bit who knew how to enjoy a Sunday afternoon nap. It wasn’t a long one. But it was sufficient, necessary and a step towards remembering how to put down the electronics and chill out for a bit.

DIY Gift: Hot Chocolate and Chai Drink Mixes

2011-11-21T10:08:00.001-05:00

This year we’re focusing on making some of our Christmas gifts to add a more personal touch. But, I admit that by doing this, we also get to enjoy some of the gifts for ourselves, such as with these delicious drink mixes. They are great for hostess gifts, teachers, neighbors and friends…as long as you don’t consume them all yourself before the gift giving begins. Make them extra special (and fun) by packaging them in cute containers with creative labels.

Hot Chocolate Mix
4 cups nonfat dry milk powder
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup non-dairy coffee creamer
2/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 (4 oz) package instant chocolate fudge pudding

Place all ingredients in a blender or food processor. Blend together for a smooth consistency. Store in an airtight container. Mix 3 or 4 heaping spoons full to a cup of hot water or milk.

For gift giving, top mix with marshmallows, broken candy canes, white chocolate chips, etc.

Homemade Chai Mix
1 cup nonfat dry milk powder
1 cup powdered non-dairy creamer
1 cup French vanilla powdered non-dairy creamer
2 ½ cups white sugar
1 ½ cups unsweetened instant tea
2 tsp ground ginger
3 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground cloves
1 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp allspice
¼ tsp pepper

Place all ingredients in a food processor. Blend until it creates a fine powder. Add 2 or 3 heaping spoons full to a cup of hot water or milk.

Thanks to MomAdvice.com for the inspiration!

An Introvert’s Version of the Perfect Weekend

2011-11-17T17:07:00.001-05:00

Over the weekend, I got to spend 26 hours by myself. Matt was away at a work conference and my parents had the kids. For the first time in over 6 years, I could spend an entire day and night doing whatever I wanted. How did I spend my time? I ordered new cell phones, changed our home phone plan, worked on a website for a client, made out Christmas wish lists, did a little online Christmas shopping, went to dinner and a movie with friends, had breakfast with another friend, slept in, and watched whatever TV I wanted. It. Was. Awesome.

I know some of those tasks may not sound like the most glorious way to spend all that time I had to myself. But, if I would have attempted to do those things, while juggling the kids, it would’ve taken me a week (or longer) to get through that task list. It’s amazing how productive I can be when I’m not interrupted every five minutes.

After my blissful time alone came to a close, I played the solo parent role for 2.5 days. Let me just say, being able to recharge and renew myself before going it alone was of great benefit…to everyone involved. Of course, I was still tracking my husband’s flight home, refreshing every 5 to 10 minutes to make sure he was making it home as scheduled. And, now exhausted from my solo gig, I could use another 24 (or more) hours to myself, but I’m sure that won’t be attainable for a very long time, especially not with a baby on the way.

Alone time is something I previously took for granted. Being an introvert, I need that space to myself. When I became a freelancer over 6 years ago, I reveled in spending each day by myself with limited or intermittent adult contact. Now, I’ve entered a season in my life when that same solitude is not realistic. Is it a struggle for me? Absolutely. But, thankfully I have people around me who lend a helping hand…like my parents who took the kids overnight, my father-in-law who has become a somewhat of a part-time babysitter for us, my brother-in-law who took Jonas to school in the morning and of course my husband…when he’s not hundreds of miles away. Thankfully that happens quite rarely, but those 2.5 days made me realize how blessed I am to have him.

With all that said, here’s hoping it’s not another 6+ years before I get a full 24 or more hours to myself. In peace. And solitude. Doing only what I want. Even if it’s chatting with an AT&T salesperson.

No Medals for Natural Childbirth

2011-11-10T15:21:00.001-05:00

I was watching “Up All Night”last night. It was the birth episode and I couldn’t help but get discouragedand frustrated by the way Hollywood was once again portraying birth. The showbegins with the mother, Reagan, desiring a natural birth. As contractionsbegin, she still holds firm in her desire. When entering the hospital, she runsinto a neighbor who mocks her for even considering going natural. As laborprogresses, she finally succumbs to the epidural and eventually it all endswith a c-section. The lesson: natural childbirth is a nice notion, but notrealistic.

Throughout my research andinterviews for Unexpectant, I’ve come to realize there are typically two campswhen it comes to pregnant women. First there are those who research to preparethemselves. Then there are those who don’t want to hear anything about laborand delivery; they will cross that bridge when they get there. I admit thatleading up to pregnancy, I was more of the second group. I refused to watchshows like “A Baby Story” or anything that showed women in the throes of labor.I figured if I watched that, I’d never want to have a baby. Eventually Ishifted to the research mindset and I began to form my personal birthphilosophy. What was it? To go as natural as possible. Was it easy? No. Why?Well, honestly, it hurts, but also because our society gives little support forthose who choose the natural route. Case in point, I had one mom laugh at meand say, “You know, you don’t get a medal for that.”

I can’t blame women who refuseto watch births, especially when the births most commonly shown include acascade of interventions and end in surgery. Don’t forget the water breaking inpublic, the mad dash to the hospital and the profanity that, according to TV,every woman seems to scream during a contraction. And then there is theeventual throwing in of the towel before the (male) doctor comes to her rescueand completely ends her previous thoughts of a natural birth. It is afrightening sight. And I’m glad I’ve never witnessed that for myself. You see,that’s not how birth has to be. That’s not how mine have been. And yet, thisportrait is painted again and again for women everywhere. So why would theythink natural birth is possible? Why would they ever attempt to go without theeuphoria of drugs, as they are portrayed? Why would they believe that in birth,they can find a strength within themselves to make it through perhaps the mostempowering experience of their entire lives?

I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt.I’m not saying there aren’t moments of hopelessness, such as my third hour ofpushing with #1 when I swore I had no energy left and someone would have topull him from me. I’m not saying that contractions are in any way pleasant. Buthere’s the secret: they end. Labor does not go on indefinitely. And, in myexperience, the moment it ends, the pain immediately subsides and you have anenergy you never thought possible after such an experience.

Perhaps my experiences wouldn’tmake for good TV drama. But perhaps they are just the portraits more women needto see so they can believe they can do it themselves. Am I saying every womanneeds to have a natural childbirth? No. It was my choice. And it should beevery woman’s opportunity to make her own choice. But what I’m saying is thatwomen should at least have that opportunity to know it is possible. To knowthat it will hurt, badly, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Toknow that she is stronger than she realizes. To know that experiences other thanthose written to increase ratings and induce laughter exist. To know that shecan create her own reality.

And so, last night I couldn’thelp but be enraged as the TV neighbor gave Reagan that mockingoh-isn’t-she-sweet-for-thinking-it’s-possible head tilt and smile. How about alittle solidarity? And what about some encouragement? Will there be a medal?No. At least I didn’t get one, but I did end up with two of the biggest rewardsever.

DIY Gift: Vanilla Extract

2011-11-08T08:22:00.000-05:00

I’ve developed a bit of an addiction to Pinterest. But, when I find such amazing inspiration, it’s hard to log off. Take for example this great gift idea: homemade vanilla extract. The finished product makes a great hostess gift, holiday present or staple for your very own pantry. The steps are simple. Just be sure to plan ahead to give the extract time to settle.

Ingredients:
Vanilla beans
Vodka
Cute containers

It takes about one vanilla bean to 1/3 cup of vodka. Remove one end of the bean and split down the center. If needed, cut the bean in half to fit into the container. Place beans in the container and add vodka. Store in a cool, dark place. Let sit for at least 6 weeks before using. The longer it sits, the darker it will be.

Thanks to Bake at 350 for the inspiration!

Sociological Experiment, a.k.a. a Kid’s Birthday Party

2011-11-03T08:28:00.000-04:00

Over the weekend we held a sociological experiment at our house. Most people would refer to it as a kid’s birthday party. We invited a dozen 3- to 6-year-olds to spend a few hours at our place, celebrating Jonas’ fifth birthday. It was an interesting two hours.

First let me say that while I am an organized person, I am not a highly-detailed, schedule-a-shin-dig-down-to-the-minute type of gal. Instead, I like to invite people over, have a few ideas of what to do and let the party evolve more organically. So, we planned a few activities, such as bowling, balloon tennis and face painting. We even called in my father-in-law to create balloon animals for the kids. But, within the first few minutes of the party, I realized organic evolution when left to the devises of half-a-dozen young boys will result in mayhem that I hadn’t previously considered.

It all began with the balloon animals. As my father-in-law attempted to show off his talents, the boys eagerly waited for him to inflate and tie off a balloon. Before even having a chance to shape it, they would quickly ask, “Can I have it just like that?” What the boys had discovered is that a balloon bat that you can hit one another with is much more exciting than a dog, giraffe or other such creation.

As the boys tussled in the front room, I suddenly realized that the six girls attending the party were all huddled around the face painting table. They closely watched each new paint creation come to fruition. They stood quietly and watched intently…even amidst the calls of battle emerging from the front room.

And thus, I learned a few things:

Boys and girls are in fact different.
When in the presence of other rowdy boys, my typically reserved son can suddenly resemble someone straight out of the WWF.
Having a husband who isn’t afraid to supervise and redirect is priceless.
Focused offerings can help squelch the tendency for impromptu wrestling matches.
It may have been loud, it may have been crazy, but the kids enjoyed themselves.
I’d do it all over again.

Next year we’ll probably have another party and it will probably be rowdier than I prefer. But, it’s just a few hours, one day a year. And in the end, it’s not about me. It’s about letting Jonas cut loose and have a blast as he celebrates another year. Let’s just hope he chooses to invite those calm and quiet girls again next year.

Remembering

2011-10-27T09:32:00.001-04:00

Five years ago this very moment, I was halfway through 14 hours of hard, active labor that would eventually result in the birth of Jonas. I have heard people say that mothers have a sort of labor amnesia where they forget the pain. Otherwise, they would never have another baby. Now pregnant with #3, I am here to say, that amnesia doesn’t exist. I may forget a lot of things, but those 14 hours of labor and delivery are still quite fresh in my mind. I very much remember.

I remember when that first real contraction hit. It nearly knocked my socks off. I had not been prepared for that intensity.

I remember nearly strangling the triage nurse when she told me I was a mere 3 cm dilated (what I had been at my appointment a few days prior) and she didn’t want to admit me.

I remember my inhibition as I nearly ran for the birthing tub once I was admitted.

I remember the warm water embracing me and offering relief.

I remember reaching a point halfway through when I honestly believed I would, nor could ever go through labor again.

I remember when that first urge to push hit and my body took over.

I remember when after hours of pushing, I felt defeated and discouraged.

I remember the fear of what would happen if I didn’t find the strength to push harder.

I remember the strength, focus and courage that I mustered that day.

I remember the feeling of euphoria once Jonas was born.

I remember the uncertainty of what to do with that crying baby when they placed him on my chest.

I remember nursing him for the first time and being amazed by how instinctive it was for him.

I remember how unbelievably hungry I was the moment he was born.

I remember the energy and adrenaline I had after his birth even though I hadn’t slept for over a day.

His birth was certainly no cake walk. It left me looking as though I had been in a fight…and not fared very well. Yet, even through all that pain and points of discouragement, I still felt happy, alive and empowered. And I’m sure I will always remember.

Our Baby Name Game

2011-10-24T16:06:00.000-04:00

Over the weekend, good friends of ours asked, “Have you been thinking about baby names? Or is it too early to do that?” Matt laughed and said, “We talked about baby names years before we even had kids. No, it’s not too early.” In fact, we have spent the last few months racking our brains over finding the perfect baby name. And the result? We’re still searching.

We explained to our friends that we have certain criteria, such as:

The name must go with the last name Church, in a non-cheesy way. Grace Church is out of the question.
The meaning should have a certain amount of richness to it and hopefully a Biblical background. That strikes Cameron from the list since it means “crooked nose.”
It can’t be too popular, but not too off-the-wall either. Hence, no Emily or Apple.

Then add to those general criteria the fact that we’ve unintentionally fallen into a pattern when it comes to names. We started with a 5-letter, 2-syllable J-name and then had a 5-letter, 2-syllable K-name. Plus, all of our names have an “A” in them somewhere. So, ideally #3 would:

start with an L.
have 5 letters.
be 2 syllables long.
have an “A” somewhere in the name.

After explaining some of this, our friends laughed and said, “Wow. You put a lot of thought into this.” Yes, we do. It’s not to say the name we will choose will perfectly match all that criteria. Is an L name necessary? No. Does it have to be 2 syllables? Not really. But, those are just some of the considerations we’re giving to the search. Are we over thinking it? Perhaps. Do we have a tendency to over-analyze things? Certainly. But, I figure if this little person will be answering to this name for the rest of his/her life, we owe it to him/her to carefully consider the name and make a wise choice.

Even still, I must admit that after perusing countless name websites and books, I do envy those cultures where the parents leave it up to elders, or even dreams and visions to name their children. Perhaps if the search becomes too futile we can turn to an outside resource: eBay. Why not auction off the chance to name our child? Certainly that would solve our problem, perhaps be the seed money for his/her college fund and thus endeth the name game.

iWhine

2011-10-20T17:23:00.001-04:00

iWhine. It's the app we've
all been whining for.

I hope you’re sitting down because I’ve just come up with Next Great Thing. No, seriously. What is it? The iWhine app for smart phones and iPods.

What is the iWhine? It’s a genius app that is able to decipher your child’s whines, cries, growls, mumbles and even full-fledged tantrums. Simply hold your phone in the general direction of the less-than-desirable noise that your child is discharging. The app will then decipher and translate your child’s raucous emissions into clear, plain English so you know what they are saying, thinking and feeling. Then you are free to proceed as needed.

How did I come up with this ingenious idea? During four consecutive days last week, our little girl, who many refer to as an absolute sweetheart, decided to act less like her typical sweet self and more like Reagan from “The Exorcist.” She didn’t spew forth pea soup, but in her manic stages, she did thrash in similar fashion. And, I’m not quite certain, but I believe her head was very close to actually spinning on its axis.

What did I do? I tried everything in the book. I tried reasoning, rocking, time outs, punishments, you-name-it. Did they work? Sure. If you think throwing a tantrum for an hour straight is considered “working.” It got to the point where I needed to remove myself and take a time out before I spiraled into a meltdown of my own. What I would have given to have had the iWhine app, so I could’ve understood if her fits were coming from defiance or discomfort.

You may be asking, “Why put the time, effort, R&D and money into creating iWhine?” When the kids were newborns, I felt lost trying to figure out if the cry was for food, a diaper change, cuddles or just random complaints. I thought that once they began to use words and communicate, that need for deciphering would end. Last week’s episodes reminded me that the guessing game never ends. And, as I look towards the tween and teen years when hormones and a new set of emotions come into play, I can only imagine what sorts of indecipherable sounds they will emit.

So on behalf of parents everywhere, it’s time to stop the guessing game. Let iWhine translate all of your child’s needs and emotions for you with the push of a few buttons. Imagine your reduced stress in understanding exactly what your child wants. Imagine not being sucked into the tantrum along with them. Imagine not having to give yourself time outs to cool down. As we say:

iWhine. It’s the app we’ve all been whining for.

Pumpkin Cookies

2011-10-13T09:09:00.000-04:00

And, here is yet another pumpkin recipe. We have a serious addiction to pumpkin in this house. My brother has started to question everything I make, wondering if I’ve somehow put pumpkin in it, even if it’s pizza or poptarts. I do have limits, but whenever I discover a delicious new pumpkin recipe, those limits get fewer and fewer. And, especially when it’s fall.

Cookies:
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup wheat flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup melted butter
1 cup sugar
1 cup pumpkin
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla

Sift together the first six ingredients. In a separate bowl, cream sugar and shortening. Add pumpkin, egg, and vanilla. Beat well. Add dry ingredients all at once and stir gently to form a smooth batter. Drop by the spoonful onto a greased cookie sheet. Bake 10 to 12 minutes at 350. Makes about 3 dozen.

Frosting:
3 T butter
1/4 cup milk
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 cup powdered sugar
3/4 tsp vanilla

Combine butter, milk and brown sugar in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil slowly and let boil for two minutes, while stirring constantly. Cool completely. After cool, stir in powdered sugar and vanilla.

Top cookies with icing once they are cooled. Store once icing has set.

My Office

2011-10-11T08:57:00.000-04:00

I was listening to the recent PregTASTIC episode on decorating the baby’s nursery. Suddenly I realized just how different this pregnancy is from my first. With #1, we took time to set-up the nursery, acquire the desired furniture, paint and decorate, and get all the clothes and diapers in order well before Jonas joined us. I’m not sure a nursery will even exist when #3 joins us. Sure, it will at some point, but in those early days, weeks and perhaps even months, there might not be a designated nursery.

After #1, we joked about the how the crib didn’t even get used. Jonas preferred to sleep in our arms, our bed or in the bassinet right beside us. Anytime we attempted to put him into the crib, he woke up and started crying. It wasn’t until he was about three months old that we transitioned him into his crib and finally his own room. Until that point, the nursery served as the changing room and little else. Our second worked pretty much the same way and we plan for #3 to be likewise. But with #3, it’s not just about co-sleeping and late-night nursing sessions. There is one other component in the equation: the fact that I will lose my office.

We moved into our house a few years ago and finally I had an office. With a door. That locked. It was glorious. Being a freelance writer from home, I revel in my privacy, my ability to close the door, lock it and type away. I work in solitude (or muffled solitude as the walls aren’t soundproofed) surrounded by my books that are neatly lined on bookshelves, as natural light pours in through the two windows. It’s my ideal workspace (minus the soundproofing). And yet, I know I will soon be surrendering it to one of my children. Working on a laptop, I have the freedom to work from anywhere inside (or outside) of the house. An office isn’t a complete necessity. But I like it. I enjoy it. I will miss it.

And so, I am hanging on to it for as long as possible. I know the day will come when the desk will be moved out, the crib will be set-up and a new color palette will be chosen. But until that day is completely necessary, I’m going to close my door, roll up to my desk and stare out the window just because I can.

Ticking Clock

2011-10-05T09:33:00.000-04:00

I feel the clock ticking. Infact, as I type this, I hear a clock ticking. Now that I’ve crested the halfwaypoint with pregnancy #3, I feel like time is starting to speed up. And I’d muchrather hit the brakes. I’ve never been one of those pregnant ladies who wants her baby to come as soon as possible. I know what happens when a newbornenters your life. I remember the sleepless nights, endless nursing and constantconsoling. Don’t forget the countless diaper changes. We last experienced allthat three years ago, but that doesn’t mean my memory of it has faded.

Instead of preparing thenursery, laundering the layette or prepping the diapers, I’ve been reading morethan ever, napping when I can, trying out new recipes and relaxing as much aspossible. Eventually the nursery will get done. The clothes and diapers will becleaned. But in the meantime, I’m enjoying some activities of my own that willsoon be forced into hiatus.

So, excuse me if there arecrumbs on the floor, dust on the TV and I haven’t showered yet today. I’mdelving into this good book…and perhaps catching a bit of shut-eye in theprocess.

Crazy Cat Lady

2011-09-30T12:37:00.001-04:00

I have a few confessions tomake. First of all, the thought of having a baby girl somewhat scares me. Why?Because I’m afraid she will grow into a girly girl and I won’t know what to dowith her. Growing up, I preferred stuffed animals to dolls, real animals tobabies and sports to playing dress-up. I never admired princesses, nor did Idream of my wedding day. In fact, confession number two, I always assumed Iwould be a crazy cat lady. And I was completely okay with that.

Catcher

When I saw this photo onPinterest today, I couldn’t help but laugh…and be a slight bit jealous. Insteadof dreaming of one day living in a mansion with my prince charming, I wouldenvision a house full of cats. In an answer to my parents’ prayers (andconcerns), Matt came along and saved me from myself…though I did get him toagree to two house cats (a serious compromise). Now, over a decade later, wehave talked about finding new homes for the two we do have since a good friendhas serious cat allergies. While some days I am on board, at other times I findit hard to imagine not having a feline in the house.


Scout

It is funny how life cantake you in a different direction than you ever anticipated. Did I think I’d bemarried at 20? Absolutely not. Did I think I’d have 3 kids, a house with awhite picket fence and a minivan in the garage? Probably not. But here I am,2.5 kids, 2 cats and 1 incredible husband later. So even though I won’t beordering a Crazy Cat Lady Organizer anytime soon and I may be finding a newhome for the two cats I do have, I must say that things have turned out allright. And perhaps having a girl isn’t that bad. After all, Kenna is quite theanimal lover.

Cheesy Potato Soup

2011-09-27T09:09:00.000-04:00

Who doesn’t love potatosoup, especially when it’s loaded with cheese? A friend posted this recipe onFacebook a few weeks ago. A sucker for soups -- especially on cool, fall days -- Iimmediately gave it a try and this cheesy potato soup recipe did notdisappoint. I loved the outstanding flavor and smooth texture. Can’t wait tomake it again!

2 Tbsp butter

1/2 Tbsp dried onion

1/2 Tbsp minced garlic

2 1/2 cups peeled and dicedpotatoes

3 cups chicken broth

1 cup milk

1 3/4 shredded cheddar orColby-Jack cheese

1/4 tsp basil

1/4 tsp ground black pepper

1/4 tsp salt

1/8 tsp ground cayennepepper

In a large saucepan, meltbutter over medium heat. Cook onion and garlic until softened. Stir in potatoesand broth. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat, cover and simmer for 15 to 20 minutesor until potatoes are tender.

Puree potato mixture in ablender, food processor or food mill. Return to pot over medium heat. Stir inmilk, cheese and spices. Bring to a low boil and cook, stirring untilthickened, about 5 minutes.

Try topping with bacon, sourcream, croutons, green onion and more cheese.

The Ultrasound

2011-09-21T09:35:00.000-04:00

During my first two pregnancies, I viewed the ultrasoundprimarily as a way of finding out the baby’s gender. Sure, we also got to seethe fuzzy little person growing inside. Plus we got to make sure he/she wasgrowing and developing on schedule. But, that was all routine stuff, right?Just tell me if it’s a boy or girl! Then I had a cousin who during her secondpregnancy last year got news she wasn’t anticipating during her “routine”ultrasound. She learned that her baby had multiple birth defects. Suddenly thesimple scan was anything but routine.

That ultrasound led to a variety of tests and further scans.The baby was diagnosed with different birth defects, including a congenitalheart defect. She was born a few months later at Riley Children’s Hospital, afew hours away from home. She came out fighting and made it through some surgeries,but a few short weeks into her life, she took her last breath. Before she evergot to go home. Before her mom got to spend hours holding her, rocking her, nursingher to sleep, smelling her little baby skin.

So as the date of my ultrasound for baby #3 approached, Ibegan to feel uncertain. Would this just be routine? Would everything lookokay? Would our lives be forever changed by what we saw on that computerscreen? Of course we still hoped to discover the baby’s gender, but moreimportantly, we hoped to discover a completely healthy baby. And thankfullythat’s what we saw.

As for the gender, well, that’s still up for debate. Thoughwe could see all organs and limbs in fine working order, the baby decided to bea bit stubborn and protective. The tech looked for quite a while to see if wewould be adding another little girl or boy to the family. Her search ended withnot 100% certainty, but a more-than-likely response: it’s a girl.

Fall Craftiness

2011-09-19T09:28:00.001-04:00

I don't consider myself a crafty person. Do I have the ability to do crafts? Sometimes. Do I have the time? Not very often. Typically in my downtime I'm reading a book instead of creating something, but after joining Pinterest, I've been inspired to grab some glue and create a few things. And, so, I decided to personalize a fall wreath by adding our initial to it. It took just a few dollars and a few minutes of work.

How do you do it? Simply pick up a letter from your favorite craft shop (I found mine at Meijer) andglue on some artificial leaves (mine came from the Dollar Store). Then hang orattach it to your favorite fall wreath and suddenly you have a DIY falldecoration that is uniquely yours. It's amazing what a sense of accomplishment you can get from some glue and fake leaves!

Sayonara, Greed Monster

2011-09-15T08:59:00.000-04:00

Lately we’ve had an unwelcome house guest. He has entered ourlives via our mostly sweet, typically adorable 4-year-old. Who is this visitor?The Greed Monster. I’m sure many others have experienced a similar guest.Symptoms of his presence include the insatiable want for more, constant pleasfor something else and a lack of contentment with what already surrounds them.

I’ll be honest; I’m not a fan of Mr. Greed. In fact, we hadan altercation just the other day during an innocent enough grocery trip thatleft me in tears of anger (thank you pregnancy hormones) and in need of my owntime out. Then it was followed up by an incident in the midwife’s office. Thecause for the first incident was because of my unwillingness to fill our shoppingcart with unnecessary junk or to stray from my pre-determined shopping list.The second public meltdown occurred because the receptionist dared to give Mr.Greed fish stickers instead of train stickers on his way out the door. How dareshe!

Of course these are only the most recent and most dramaticrun ins. We’ve seen this ugly guy on several occasions, but his visits havebecome much more frequent. He often rears his ugly head when a grandparent isnearby and he therefore assumes he should be given something. Or, at arestaurant when a junk toy should (in his opinion) accompany his meal. Don’tforget every shopping trip ever made when something always seems to catch hiseye and begs to be taken home.

I admit that my patience for Mr. Greed no longer exists(hence the tears of anger). I believe (perhaps foolishly) that my son should beable to accompany me to the grocery store without getting upset if we don’tbring home ornamental Indian corn. Yes, Indian corn has been one cause fordebate. We have tried explaining to Jonas that he is blessed with much andshould be appreciative, that we spend our money wisely, that just because acharacter is on yogurt does not make it suitable for consumption. And yet, Mr.Greed continues to haunt us, forcing us to take drastic measures.

After the Sticker Incident of last week, we made a decision;the gifts stop here. He gets no special treats, toys or the like until hisbirthday in 6 weeks. If anyone offers him anything, he is to say “No, thankyou.” If he asks for anything, we take away toys he already has until hisbirthday…or later.

We’ve told a few people aboutthis decision. Some have been supportive (mainly parents of young kids who havebeen dealing with their own monsters). And some have been less than enthusiastic(mainly those who want to shower down gifts at each meeting…I won’t mentionnames, but you know who you are). I know some may think this is drastic, but I’mnot a fan of Mr. Greed. In fact, I started the year attempting to simplify ourlives by getting rid of unnecessary junk and clutter. I believe that “The lessyou own, the less that owns you.” And I also believe that creativity isfostered when kids have fewer things to distract their attention.

So, Mr. Greed, if you’relistening, you fall into that “unnecessary junk” category. Consider this youreviction notice. Sayonara. Please don’t return.

Pumpkin Pancakes

2011-09-13T09:23:00.001-04:00

Sometimes it seems like I put pumpkin in everything I make. Ilike to thank my picky eater for that. It’s one way for him to get a few morevitamins and nutrients. Hence, this is my go-to pancake recipe. Perfect forbreakfast or a family dinner at home, these pancakes are sure to please thanksto their blend of spices and delicious flavor. It’s a taste of autumn in around cake.

1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup whole wheat flour

2 Tbsp brown sugar

2 Tbsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp ground ginger

1/4 tsp ground nutmeg

1-1/2 cups milk

1/2 cup pumpkin

1 egg white, lightly beaten

2 Tbsp oil

Syrup and peanut butter, optional

Combine dry ingredients in a large bowl. In a small bowl,combine wet ingredients then stir into dry ingredients until moist.

Pour batter on hot, greased griddle. Turn when bubbles formon top. Cook until both sides are golden brown. Enjoy with syrup and peanutbutter, if desired.

The Importance of Time

2011-09-09T09:12:00.002-04:00

A bit of a debate has begun to surface in our house. Jonasasked a few weeks ago, “When am I going to get to play baseball?” My responsewas a vague, “I don’t know.” I know that at some point our kids will getinvolved with sports. They were a big part of my life during school and I seevalue in the kids playing sports. But right now, I’m not ready to commit to apractice and game schedule. Part of that stems from the fact that I lovesleeping in and I don’t want my weekends to be tampered with. But a greaterpart comes from the fact that Jonas is 4. He has time. And what I think heneeds now is time…free time, play time, be-a-kid time,don’t-rush-him-from-here-to-there time.

As some of his friends have started taking up soccer and thelike, I’ve begun to wonder if perhaps it is time for Jonas to play. But afterhearing Rob Wegner’s message at Granger Community Church this weekend, I feltreinforced in my stance. He discussed how being experience rich leads to beingrelationally poor. Too often we try to fill our kids’ lives with experienceafter experience after experience. And where does that leave us? Isolated fromfriends, family and deep connections. After all, whom are we connecting withwhen we’re yelling at the kids to get their shoes on so we can make it to whateverevent on time? And how many deep conversations can we have when we arefrantically jetting from one place to the next?

As I listened to the message, I realized that I’ve not onlybeen contemplating this exact thing in regards to starting our kids inextracurriculars, but also in regards to life in general. It has becomeincreasingly more difficult to spend time with friends and family. Gatheringsthat used to pop up on a whim now take planning and schedule aligning weeks oreven months in advance…if they happen at all. And I have to be honest, nothingwears me out more than starting a month with the realization that it is alreadyplanned and scheduled to the max. And few things disappoint me more than notbeing able to spend time with friends and family. We all need breathing room,down time, and the space to be able to belly laugh with an old friend from timeto time. And that’s what I want to teach my kids.

To achieve that, it may mean delaying the start of sports.But what it can mean is playing together in the backyard more. It may mean he’snot at Agassi’s level of tennis by age 5 (a goal I must surrender), but it alsomeans he will hopefully know how to stop and smell the roses. It may mean hedoesn’t get a chance to experience the same variety of activities as otherkids, but hopefully he will understand the importance of deep and lastingrelationships. Hopefully he will learn to value time and balance in his life.

Will the kids join teams at some point? Absolutely. But fornow, we’re going to chill out, toss the ball around the backyard a bit andenjoy Saturday mornings, while I still have them.

Homemade Potato Minestrone Soup

2011-09-07T08:30:00.000-04:00

Much to my despair, it appears that summer is fading and fall is quickly approaching. But I suppose if there is an upside, it means soup season is upon us. So, if you are looking for a savory soup that’s full of vitamins and nutrients, try this potato minestrone soup recipe. Place it in the slow cooker in the morning and dinner will be ready when you are in the evening. Plus your house will have a tasty aroma wafting throughout.

2 (14.5 oz.) cans chicken broth

1 (28 oz.) can diced tomatoes

1 (16 oz.) can kidney beans, rinsed and drained

1 (15 oz.) can black beans

4 potatoes, peeled and chopped

1 Tbsp dried minced onion

1 Tbsp dried parsley flakes

1 tsp salt

2 tsp dried oregano

1 Tbsp minced garlic

1/2 tsp dried basil

1 tsp dried Italian seasoning

3 carrots, peeled and chopped

Combine all ingredients in a slow cooker. Cover and cook on low for 8 hours. If desired, top with shredded chicken, cheese or red pepper flakes. I like to serve it with some homemade bread fresh from the bread maker. Bon appetit!

Birth Fears

2011-08-31T08:22:00.001-04:00

This is pregnancy #3 for me. I should be an old pro by now, right? Perhaps that is true in certain regards, but in other ways, I’m not sure any woman will ever feel like a pro when it comes to birth. Even after labor and delivery twice before, and having two pretty ideal experiences, I still have a few fears. What’s the biggest one? That my luck has run out.

I know they say the third time is the charm, but with kids, anything goes. Before even becoming pregnant with this one, I wondered if I would be pressing my luck with another delivery. I’ve experienced two natural births that have been quite low on interventions. And I’m very pleased with that fact. Still I can’t help but wonder how this one will go. Will I be able to once again avoid the interventions I fear? Will I make it through this delivery without a c-section?

Part of my fear comes from #2’s positioning. I had horrendous back labor because she was sunnyside up until minutes before crowning. Thankfully my midwife knew a move that corrected her position. Back labor ended and she was born. I know that once a woman labors with a baby in that position, her likelihood of that happening again increases. If so, I hope that same maneuver convinces this one to flip as well. But who knows; this one might never be in that position. This one might be ready for an even speedier exit than #2…an exit that nearly happened before my midwife made it to the hospital. Which brings me to fear #2.

What if this one comes too quickly? With #1, my labor stalled the minute I walked through the hospital doors. Now I have a better understanding of the progression of labor and the sphincter law (as Ina May Gaskin calls it), which is why I waited to go to the hospital with #2. I know the longer a woman labors in a hospital, the more likely interventions will be. So, when hard labor started, I got out the exercise ball and bounced through them in the comfort of my living room. When the breaks between contractions were becoming non-existent, we left for the hospital. It’s a good thing we didn’t wait any longer; she was born within an hour from the time we entered the hospital.

Having experienced back labor with both kids, my midwife says that if this one is in a good position, I might not have back labor. And then I might not even know I’m in actual labor. While I do enjoy the thought of not experiencing that horrible back pain, I’m not sure how I feel about an unexpected home…or car…birth. Perhaps my husband should start looking into birthing techniques.

So what do I do about these fears? The only thing I know to do. Read and research. Throughout the years I’ve taken in a plethora of birth stories, talked to doulas and midwives, listened to countless podcasts, read a fair amount of books and attended a birthing class. I’ve come up with my personal birth philosophy thanks to the knowledge I’ve collected, so perhaps the most important thing I’ve done was to find a care provider that will respect that. I have a midwife I know and admire. I have confidence in her abilities. But more important than her abilities are my own. I know I’ve done this twice before. I know things can always happen or go wrong. Twists in the journey can pop up unexpectedly, but I believe self-confidence goes a long ways.

Snack-Time Delight: Granola Bars

2011-08-29T09:08:00.003-04:00

I came across this recipe a year or so ago thanks to the Joyful Abode. Since then, I've made it numerous times and shared them with several people. These granola bars always get rave reviews and the request for the recipe. Last Christmas we even gave some away as gifts because people liked them so much. So, if you're looking for a great snack without all the preservatives, additives, high-fructose corn syrup and other junk found in processed granola bars, give these a try.

2 cups quick oats
3/4 cup wheat germ

3/4 cup sunflower seeds

1 cup crushed peanuts (food processor works best)

2/3 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup honey

4 Tbsp butter

2 tsp vanilla

1/2 tsp salt

Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Mix oats, wheat germ, seeds and peanuts in a cake pan or baking dish with sides. Toast in the oven approximately 10-12 minutes, stirring 3 to 4 times.

Simmer sugar, honey, butter, vanilla and salt in a saucepan over low to medium heat, stirring constantly. Bring to a boil. Remove from heat. Stir in toasted mixture. Mix well and place in a lightly greased 11 x 13 pan. Press hard with a wooden spoon or spatula. Let cool for a few hours. Cut into bars or squares. Store in an airtight container. Enjoy!

Note: Add dried fruits, nuts, coconut, chocolate, etc., if desired. Top with peanut butter for added protein.

Surviving the Road Trip

2011-08-24T17:26:00.001-04:00

Last week we took a road trip. It was our first attempt at traveling with the kids for more than a 3-hour drive. I admit; I was nervous. I don’t care to ride in the car for long amounts of time, let alone doing so while attempting to keep two little ones entertained. But, when family gets married hundreds of miles away, one has to put aside hesitations and just go for it. So, we packed up the van, borrowed a dual-screen DVD player (can we say “lifesaver”?) and instructed the kids to not even bother asking how much longer. How did it go? Surprisingly well.

The trip taught me a few things:

1) Kids are capable of more than I sometimes give them credit for.

2) Getting out of Indiana on a regular basis is good for the soul.

3) Having a helpful grandparent to keep the kids entertained is an amazing asset.

4) Hotel pools are worth every cent of an overnight stay.

5) In-vehicle DVD players can come in handy.

6) Georgia state parks are located in the middle of nowhere, at the top of a hill that can only be accessed by winding, twisting, curving roads.

7) Bears live in the Georgia hills and one might just cross your hiking path.

8) 4-year-old ring bearers look adorable in suits.

9) Trips can bond kids in unimaginable ways.

What has amazed me most isn’t that we never heard, “Are we there yet?” What amazed me is that after spending more than 30 hours in the van and sharing a bed for four nights, the kids are closer than they have ever been. Our kids have always had a pretty decent sibling relationship, but since we returned, they have been inseparable. They have been playing together better than ever and have still been wanting to sleep in the same room. Even though they no longer have to be near each other all the time, they want to be with one another.

I know this heightened bond will probably fade especially with school starting tomorrow. But until then, I’ll enjoy watching them stick together and perhaps even consider another road trip…as long as the DVD player is still available.

What I Would’ve Told Myself

2011-08-15T20:09:00.001-04:00

I came across a video called “Reflections of Motherhood” where they asked moms, if it were possible to go back to before having their first child, what would they tell themselves? And so I wondered, what would I tell myself?

I admit that before having kids, the thought of motherhood scared me. Mainly because I was happy with the person I was and the path I was traveling through life…for the most part. Why did I want to shake things up? Especially when the examples of moms I saw on TV, in the movies and in magazines were stereotypes of over-tired, over-worked, over-worried women who had forgotten themselves, and were consumed by their children and the fruitless efforts of attempting a “balanced” life. These moms seemed like simple and flat caricatures of women. I did not want to become one of them.

And so my journey to motherhood began with a healthy dose of fear and trepidation. Those concerns had nothing to do with the pregnancy, or labor and delivery portion. Instead my fears started with what happened after the delivery pains stopped. How I would soothe a newborn? What would I do with a baby in my house by myself all day long? Would I still be able to write? What if I traded in NPR for Barney? What if I no longer recognized myself? Who would I become?

So what would I tell my pre-mom self?

Don’t be afraid of how motherhood will change you.

Stay true to your core and there’s nothing to fear.

Babies aren’t as frightening as they may appear.

Every stage passes more quickly than you think it will.

Trust yourself.

Give yourself time to find your rhythm.

It takes a village of support.

Those caricatures aren’t as flat as you may have assumed.

What would you say?

Homemade Poptarts

2011-08-09T17:40:00.002-04:00

I’ve eaten plenty of Poptarts throughout my life. Recently I had a craving for some, but then I made the mistake of reading the back of the box. The long list of unnatural and unpronounceable ingredients made me put the box right back on the shelf instead of in my shopping cart. A few days later, a Facebook friend said she was making a homemade version of Poptarts. Thankfully she shared the recipe via Heavenly Homemakers. Now I have a healthier alternative to store-bought toaster pastries. The good news is they require only a few ingredients, not a lot of time, and give you the ability to get creative with fillings and toppings.

Pastry:

2 cups whole wheat flour

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 tsp sea salt

1 cup melted butter

1 cup plain yogurt

Filling:

Fruit jelly or jam (I used homemade freezer jam)

Nutella spread

Peanut Butter

Marshmallow Cream

Chocolate

Or anything else your heart desires

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix all the pastry ingredients together. Roll out the dough on a floured surface. Cut dough into the size you wish each pastry to be. Spread about 1/2 tsp of your desired filling in the center of each rectangle. Match two like-sized rectangles and put together like a sandwich. Use a fork to seal the edges. Place on a greased cookie sheet. Bake for about 25 minutes or until the crust is light brown. Makes 10 to 20 pastries, depending on the size.

Store in an airtight container or in the freezer. Warm in the microwave or toaster before eating. Optional: top with icing (I used milk, vanilla and powdered sugar), sprinkles, etc.

Due Month

2011-08-03T15:58:00.001-04:00

One of the first questions people ask when they find out I’m pregnant is, “So, what’s your due date?” My response isn’t a precise time as to when the little one will be joining us. Instead, I like to leave it with a vague, “The beginning of February.” That usually creates a pause in the conversation before they start telling us all the February birthdays they know. If you want to get technical, my due date is at the very end of January, but I’ve learned a few things since having two kids and one of those is that a due date is better expressed in vague terms. According to my history, a due month is the more appropriate way to anticipate their arrival.

You see, I was 10 days “overdue” with my first before he decided to enter the world. Honestly, I was completely okay with him taking his time. He didn’t require feedings or diaper changes and was more portable as he was. But, our friends and family were not okay with his decision to take it slow and soon we considered changing our answering machine message to say, “No, he hasn’t been born yet. We’ll let you know when he is.”

With number two, we took more of the birth month philosophy and tried not to talk up the actual due date quite as much. We dreaded having to hear “So, you’re still pregnant?” countless times. Thankfully she was a bit speedier coming only six days “post-due.” Both arrived healthy, happy and right on time for them.

So we’ll see what number three wants to do. Maybe he/she will surprise us all with an “early” arrival. Or perhaps this one will rival his/her older brother at taking his/her sweet time in joining us. Whatever happens, we’ll try to relax, enjoy a few quiet nights and let him/her choose the appropriate date.

How about you? Did your little one arrive on date or was “on month” more appropriate?

What a Hoot

2011-08-01T16:29:00.005-04:00

So I’ve kind of developed a thing for owls. I won’t call it an obsession. Perhaps an interest is a better term. I’m not sure why I like them so much. Maybe it’s their wisdom and cuteness rolled into one. I recently found myself perusing a variety of owl offerings for babies on the always-awesome Etsy.com. I just had to share some of my favorite finds:

Baby Wrap Carrier Sling by Snuggy Baby / Custom Birth Announcement Print by mosieposies / Hanging Mobile – Night Owls by lovelyfriend / Cloth Diaper/Burp Cloth by Sewingdreamsnotions / Owl Earflap Beanie by VineStreetGoods / Satin Trim Blanket by MyWoobyandMe / Side Snap Chenille Bib by cutiepatootieshop

My Do’s and Don’ts of Motherhood

2011-07-27T15:39:00.002-04:00

I just read a post on Meagan Francis’ blog The Happiest Mom that has inspired my own post. Francis listed things she does not do as a mom, including crafts and playing Candyland. And she makes no apologies. It got me to thinking of the things that I have chosen to do and not to do as a parent. I do some things that other parents might find strange and even restrictive at times. Likewise, I don’t do things that I’m sure others enjoy or make time for. Of course my lists don’t fit everyone. But they fit our family, our choices and our priorities.

A few dos:

Cloth diaper

Make birthday video montages

Encourage free play

Limit TV watching to 2 hours per day (typically)

Eat organically (as much as possible)

Cook meals from scratch (most of the time)

Keep a fairly orderly house (for the most part)

Spend time in nature (often)

And now some don’ts:

Scrapbook

Join a play/moms group

Iron

Vacuum and mop frequently…even with 2 kids and 3 pets

Organize activities and projects for the kids

Take the kids on outings alone (especially if they cost money)

Throw elaborate birthday parties

Take them to library storytimes

Sign them up for sports that cramp my schedule

To me, the important thing in parenthood isn’t about whether or not red dye #40 crosses their lips (though I might prefer it doesn’t) or if my kids have the opportunity to test out every sport imaginable (after all, tennis is all that really matters). I’m not in this to be any sort of supermom who does it all, while wearing heels and a smile. To me parenthood is more about realizing who you are and who your kids are, and falling into the rhythm that allows you to grow together in a way that enriches your lives. Will our lists change over time? I’m sure they will. But, as long as we stay true to ourselves and our priorities, we can roll with those changes. No capes, heels or forced smiles required.

Our Breakfast of Choice: Pumpkin Peanut Butter Oatmeal

2011-07-18T17:41:00.001-04:00

My son has a thing about routine. Add to that his picky eating habits and it can make for interesting meal times. His preference for nothing vegetable related started at an early age (even though I ate plenty of greens while pregnant and nursing, but since I was a picky youngster as well, I guess he comes by it honestly). So I began a quest to find alternative ways to pump him full of nutrients. Enter Jessica Seinfeld’s cookbook, "Deceptively Delicious."

Now, I must confess that not everything in this book was “deceptive.” The squash muffins tasted like…squash…and not in a good way. But, there was one gem of a recipe that made purchasing the book worth every penny: Pumpkin Peanut Butter Oatmeal. For about two years now, we have made this breakfast nearly every day. And on days when we haven’t, Jonas has done little to hide his discontent...to put it lightly. He likes it so much that when people ask what his favorite food is, he says oatmeal. I’m pretty sure the doctor thought I coached him on that answer before his last check-up.

And so, here it is; the infamous recipe that has served our family well and started our days with a punch of vitamins A, C and beta-carotene for the last few years…and counting:

1 cup milk

1/4 cup pumpkin

1/4 cup brown sugar

1 tsp. vanilla

1/4 tsp. cinnamon

1 cup quick oats

2 tsp. peanut butter

Maple syrup, if desired

Mix milk, pumpkin, brown sugar, vanilla and cinnamon in a pan. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat, add oats and stir. Cook for 2-3 minutes until the mixture thickens to a desirable consistency. Add peanut butter and stir until mixed. Serve and top with maple syrup for additional sweetness, if desired. For us, this serves 1 adult and 2 little ones.

Hearing That Whoosh, Whoosh Once Again

2011-07-14T15:49:00.001-04:00

Jonas helped us share the big news by drawing pictures for the grandparents.

My stomach has given up. When I was pregnant with my first two and nursing them for their first years, I remember saying, “I can’t wait to have my body back.” It took some time (and patience on my part), but finally I was getting back to where it was beginning to feel like mine. It wasn’t looking the exact same, but I had gotten onto a decent workout track and I was starting to feel better about my body again. And then we decided to have another baby.

I swear the moment I became pregnant, my belly just gave up and popped out. With my first, I began showing somewhere in the fourth month. It happened a bit earlier with number two. But number three has made it difficult for us to keep our pregnancy a secret through the first trimester. I have been doing my best to camouflage and suck it in, but when we finally began making the announcement official over the weekend, we were the ones who were surprised. The responses we heard from several family and friends were, “I knew it!” or “I thought so!” or as my mom said, “I noticed you were getting a belly.” Gee, thanks, Mom. So the “surprise” was actually on us.

We have always preferred to wait until the end of the first trimester and after my first midwife’s appointment to tell everyone. I’ve seen couples share their news early, have a miscarriage and then have to deal with a whole different sort of announcement. Call us cautious or superstitious, but that’s why we’ve waited. My first appointment was last week, at which time I asked the nurse practitioner to make sure she heard only one heartbeat. With the way my stomach was popping, a part of me wondered if our family of four would expand to a family of six…or more. Thankfully she said I was measuring fine and she was pretty certain there was only one heartbeat. Fingers crossed, that will remain the same during future appointments.

I must say that hearing that “whoosh, whoosh, whoosh” of the heartbeat really did make this pregnancy more of a reality. Honestly, before that it just felt like I had eaten one too many cookies. But alas, there is purpose behind my changing physique thanks to the little one growing inside—news that has Jonas, 4, and Kenna, 2, very excited. They have been talking non-stop about the baby and asking to touch my belly (which is still weird at this stage).

We decided to get Jonas in on the announcement and had him draw pictures for the grandparents. He drew five stick figures and labeled them, “My Family: Dad, Mom, Jonas, Kenna and Baby.” And, yes, my figure was also a stick figure, giving me hope that in time my body will once again be mine.

Bumper Stickers for Parents of Toddlers

2011-07-07T22:16:00.000-04:00

Sanity has left the building.

I'm not drunk. I just had a sippy cup launched at my head.

My former vehicle was much cooler.

Mini-van driver by practicality, not preference.

Where there's a will, there's a temper tantrum.

I used to look better...when I used to sleep.

If this van's a rockin'...it's not what you think.

Honor roll student? I'd settle for all-night sleeper.

Back off. I'm not afraid to use my mom voice.

Don't bother. I can't hear your car horn over the chaos.

I'm not speeding. I'm making up for the two hours it takes to load up toddlers.

Please excuse my driving. This straight jacket doesn't have armholes.

The Evolution of our Little Agassi

2011-06-30T16:18:00.002-04:00

This year vs. last year. Look at the change in his confidence!

One thing that continues to amaze me about kids is what a difference a year makes. Jonas just finished his second year of pee wee tennis lessons at Leeper Park. Last year, it took him 3 of the 6 lessons to work up the nerve to utter a word and halfway participate in the games the coach had planned. Matt and I spent the first lesson coaxing him from the sidelines (and even on the court) to participate. Thankfully one of the instructors took him on as her special project and thanks to her one-on-one attention, he began to loosen up a bit. By the end, he had warmed up to the point where we didn’t think we had completely wasted our $35.

He has matured a lot since last year, so we assumed this time around would be different. But, being a natural introvert, we didn’t know what to expect. Thankfully he had no problems getting involved. He played the games and even spoke to the coach on his first day! Duck-duck-goose no longer looked like a form of torture. He actually smiled and giggled as he ran around the circle of other little tennis players.

As much as I secretly (and even publicly) hope he will be a stellar tennis player some day, these lessons were about more than forehands, backhands and serves. As he proudly exited the court today with his completion certificate in hand, I realized how much has changed in a year. Slowly but surely, my shy little boy is turning into a more mature, confident kid. We definitely got our money’s worth this year.

Inaudible Vocalitis

2011-06-22T20:36:00.002-04:00

I’ve begun hearing a voice. It’s that of my own. It’s either that I’m hearing voices or that I’ve developed a rare, yet annoying, disorder known as Inaudible Vocalitis. The symptoms of such a disorder are that, while you can hear your own voice and believe fully well that you are speaking audibly, no one around you seems to hear or acknowledge your vocal efforts. Not even the dog.

As rare and unheard of as this disorder may be, I believe I have contracted it. I mean what other explanation is there for the fact that I have to repeat myself incessantly for the kids to move into action? Not to mention our previously well-trained dog has begun ignoring my commands. Instead of lying down when asked, he looks at me as if to say, “Really? You don’t mean it, right? I’ll just stand here and see how serious you really are.”

And so, I’m sure you’re wondering what the cure for IV is. Well, I’ve done quite a bit of Internet research. It appears that the only cure is a long vacation in a beach locale with only a good book and myself. Husband welcome, as long as audible recognition is a go.

Empathy Over Annoyance

2011-06-15T20:16:00.002-04:00

I was listening to NPR this morning and heard a story about airline innovations that will be displayed at the upcoming Paris air show. They talked about the possibility of glass floors and ceilings, and adjustable seats that contour to the individual. The reporter ended in jest by saying, “Now if they can only block out the sound of the crying baby from the seat behind you.” I have to admit that as a parent of small children, I was mildly offended. Have I flown with my little ones and subjected strangers to their cries and whines? No. Do I enjoy being on long flights with other people’s noisy children? Not really. But what offended me is this societal view that children should be seen and not heard. Well, if we’re being really honest, they shouldn’t even be seen except in designated areas, such as a fast food restaurant’s play area that is enclosed with sound proofed walls.

A few months ago, I had the pleasure of carrying a crying 2-year-old out of a restaurant. It was my first such experience. She had been playing around, slipped and got hurt. As Matt and our friends paid the bill, I removed Kenna from the situation. As I walked through the restaurant, I could not believe the glares I received from other patrons, some who had small, loud children of their own sitting right beside them. I felt I was doing the right thing by removing Kenna, but apparently the others did not want to be bothered by even a momentary cry of discontent as I quickly exited the premises.

Again, I am not an advocate for noisy children in public locations. But, as a parent I am frustrated by the annoyance other people see in small children. I have to admit that before having kids, I didn’t want to be bothered by other peoples’ kids. I kept my distance and appreciated the unspoken societal segregation. I just assumed that once I had kids, I’d figure things out. Suddenly I would welcome the noisy, sticky creatures into my life and things would be fine…even though I’d spent my adult life trying to steer clear of them. Of course instead of that smooth transition, I was left clueless since I’d spent my life apart from children.

So now I’m thinking, why can’t we be more inclusive? Why can’t we encourage parents and welcome little ones instead of ostracizing both? Why can’t we better mingle and offer support or even a helping hand to that mother who is trying her best to juggle two little ones through a supermarket, while sticking to a budget, making nutritious decisions and trying to keep her kids from making a sound above a whisper? After all, most of us have been parents in that situation at some point. And more than likely we were a tired, whiney, crying child frustrating our own mother at some time.

So as we look to the future of air travel, perhaps what we need isn’t individual sound barriers, but onboard nannies who can lend a helping hand and assist the parents who are in distress as much as the little one is. But until that day comes, if you are seated next to a small child, perhaps try a little empathy instead of jumping to annoyance. Chances are, the mom is already stressed by the situation herself. She doesn’t need your judgmental glares on top of everything else.

Sticky Reminder

2011-06-08T16:25:00.000-04:00

Even being nearly 5 years into this parenting gig, I still have moments when I look at my kids and think, “So when are your real parents coming to get you? Surely I’m just the babysitter, right?” But yesterday I had a visual reminder that I am a parent. And thanks to my 2-year-old it was a reminder that I shared with the general public.

So what was that reminder? Was it my greased back ponytail? The dark circles under my eyes? Or the toddler holding my hand? No, it was the banana sticker on my back. I’m pretty sure that before kids I did not walk around in public donning produce stickers. Of course the fault was my own. As we were hustling to get out of the house, Kenna requested a banana. I know she likes to put the stickers on me and I try to remember to remove them immediately. And yet the combination of time crunch and mommy brain allowed me to sport the sticker through 3 stores and for 7 hours until Jonas saw it and removed it. Perhaps my fellow shoppers thought I was participating in some new guerrilla marketing ploy, acting as a roving billboard for Chiquita banana. But more likely they smiled to themselves and winked at Kenna as we passed by.

Dummy Lights

2011-06-01T15:42:00.000-04:00

I really wish kids came equipped with dummy lights. I figure if a light on a car’s dashboard can alert you to the need of an oil change, why can’t a kid have a similar feature that lights up and tells you what’s going on? Imagine deciphering a newborn’s cries with a quick glance. Then you could proceed with a diaper change, sleep, food or comfort according to the necessary remedy. Of course the lights would change as they age. But, oh, think of the sanity they would save!

Our family has been hit by some sort of chest cold/bronchitis. For the past week, the kids have been hacking up lungs and leaving us to ask a myriad of questions:

Will his cough settle as the day progresses?
Is he too sick for school?
Should we give them cough medicine?
Is he as sick as he is acting or is he overly dramatic?
If we go to the zoo as planned, will they hack all over every exhibit and child they encounter?
When is it necessary to go to the doc?
Are antibiotics really the answer?

I typically favor the wait-and-see approach, but the waiting is often wrought with endless questions and second guesses. I finally gave in and went to the doc. And the answer was as anticipated: It’s probably some virus that needs to run its course. If a simple light would’ve alerted me to the diagnosis, I could’ve saved that insurance claim and time juggling two little ones at the doc. But until those indicator lights become standard issue, I suppose I should rely on that motherly instinct I am supposed to be equipped with. Unfortunately those pesky questions usually cloud that instinct.

The Pure Bliss of Solitude

2011-05-24T09:40:00.001-04:00

I had a writer’s group meeting the other night that wrapped up ahead of schedule. Matt had taken the kids to his parents’ for the evening, which meant I had over an hour of time to use however I wanted. It was 60+ minutes of pure bonus time. I didn’t have to fold laundry, vacuum, make a meal, stop by the grocery store, devote time to a deadline. I could do whatever my little heart desired. And, I could do it in my house. With no interruptions. No little voices calling, “Mommy!” every 30 seconds. No emergency potty breaks. No nothing. I was giddy with excitement.

You see, I rarely get moments of solitude in my own house. Before kids, I worked from my home office, giving me countless days to myself. I loved it. But now if I need some time away, I have to pack-up and head to a café or some similar place. I miss the silence within my own home’s walls.

So what did I do? My golden retriever and I headed to the front porch. I sat there with my feet propped up, listening to the storm roll overhead as I read page after page of “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.” The only sounds were rolling thunder, falling rain and Brinkley’s snoring. I sat there for 90 minutes with no agenda and no interruptions. It was a beautiful thing.

So tell me, when did you last experience a moment of solitude? How did you spend it?

The Evolution of a Sibling Relationship

2011-05-19T09:08:00.001-04:00

Before having kids, Matt and I said we always wanted our kids to be spaced two years apart. We wanted them to grow up together and experience things at nearly the same time. My brother and I were four years apart, which at times seemed like a Grand Canyon-sized chasm between us. He viewed me as the little pest of a sister. I saw him as a mean and oppressive firstborn…and I had rug burns, jammed fingers and black eyes to prove it.

Growing up, I had a friend Reagan who would walk hand-in-hand with her little brother. They laughed together and acted like friends. I was very confused. How was this possible? They not only got along, but they actually seemed to enjoy one another. That was what I hoped for with my kids.

And thankfully that is what we often see with our kids. Sure they still bicker and annoy one another, but they have this bond and closeness that several people have noticed and commented on. They seem to really appreciate each other. They hug each other goodnight without being prompted, find ways to constantly play together and often lend helping hands to one another. I admit; it does make me proud.

While I do enjoy watching the closeness they share now, I have realized that perhaps the four-year separation between my brother and me wasn’t so bad after all. I learned a lot of life lessons. He frequently taught me that life isn’t fair, whiners are annoying and that self-confidence goes a long ways. But most importantly I learned that relationships change because the boy who once hit me in the eye with a golf club is now the man who I have deep appreciation and respect for. No, we still might not walk down the street hand-in-hand, but we do laugh together, Mario Kart together, golf together, and…dare I say it? Like one another.

You Don't Deserve It

2011-05-10T16:00:00.000-04:00

There’s one statement that never fails to irritate me: You deserve it (“it” implying some luxury or perk, such as a new car, diamond ring, afternoon lounging on the beach, loving husband, Big Mac, etc.). To me that statement implies that, while one person deserves to have everything rainbows and unicorns, another person deserves to live in hunger and disease. We are doing our best to teach our kids that they don’t “deserve” anything. Instead, they are blessed and we need to be grateful, not expectant or entitled. As much as I wish it took a one-time lecture to get the point across, it’s not an easy lesson for them to learn. Especially when Jonas spots a shiny, new Toy Story gadget and believes he should have it.

Case in point, we spent last Friday evening at his school’s Fun Fair. A few minutes after arriving, Jonas spotted a prize that he just had to win: a Buzz Lightyear cup. Seeing it would take 8 prize tickets to bring it home, we headed to the carnival games and tested our skills…and luck. Together, Jonas and Kenna won 12 tickets—enough for the cup and a prize for Kenna. We headed to cash in our earnings, but suddenly Jonas was faced with a conundrum. Not only was there a Buzz cup, but also a Thomas the Train cup. How ever would he choose between two of his favorite characters? His solution? Get them both. So, I conducted a lesson in math. Each cup takes 8 tickets. If he wants both, he needs 16 tickets. How many does he have? 8. While he understands the basics of the math problem, his desire for more, more, more was fogging his mind and making him believe he had enough tickets. (Perhaps this is what they call “new math”?) I explained that it was not possible to get both, so he needed to make a decision. And again, he chose to want both. This cycle repeated itself over the next few minutes until I explained that he needed to be thankful for getting anything. If he wasn’t happy, I could give the Buzz cup to a kid who would appreciate it. He reluctantly submitted with a growl, a huff and a protruding lip.

Finally he became distracted by a friend and I was left holding the cup with a few random prizes in it. At one point, Kenna took the cup from my hand and sat it down, while we played a game. In my distraction and multi-tasking, we walked away, leaving the cup and all it’s prizes behind. I realized it was missing a few minutes later, but by that time it was too late. I returned to where we had left it only to find that it was gone. I asked a nearby teacher if she had seen it. She hadn’t and we realized it was most likely in the hands of another kid who couldn’t resist the temptation.

At that moment, I had a choice. I could tell Jonas what happened and allow it to be a life lesson. Or, I could come to his rescue by promising to replace it with a new cup…and possibly an even better one. I’ll be honest; at first, I considered the replacement route. After all, how is it fair to my kid that another kid took his prize? It isn’t. But it also isn’t fair of me to come to his rescue at every disappointment. Life is full of less-than-fair moments and it’s better that he begins to understand that when he’s 4 than when he’s 24 and has developed an entitlement mentality because he has had the world handed to him free of realities and discouragements.

And so I faced my little one, explaining what had happened. As expected, he cried. He whined. He mourned the loss for a good 15 minutes. But by bedtime that night, the cup was already a thing of the past, just as I’m sure it would’ve been if he would have brought it home with him. It would’ve been shoved to the back recesses of a cabinet (or his bedroom floor) when the next shiny, new object took his favor. So instead of having another item in our lives, he received a life lesson. And honestly, after he displayed the greedy nature of not being content with just one prize, I’m a tad bit satisfied with the outcome. But, as much as I am glad we were able to have this teachable moment, I am concerned about one thing: that child who became the cup’s new owner.

Upon Reflection: Thanks, Mom

2011-05-04T09:53:00.000-04:00

“As we light a path for others, we naturally light our own way.” - Mary Anne Radmacher

I’m a wanna be world changer. At least that’s what my bio says. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about getting more involved. But yesterday I moved from just the “thinking” stage to the ever-so-important “doing” part. And it felt pretty good.

For nearly five years now, I’ve spent my days with my little ones, changing their diapers, calming their cries and filling their sippy cups. While I understand being a mom is an important role, I know there are other people out there who need a helping hand. And I have two that I can offer. But, with little ones, it’s not easy to maneuver schedules, find babysitters and hope a volunteer opportunity fits into that opening, not to mention the question of who to help and how.

I recently read a book called The Missional Mom by Helen Lee. It was full of great, inspirational stories of moms who are living their lives on purpose and with passion. I was awe-struck by what some moms are doing today, such as the Global Soccer Mom who is an outspoken advocate in the fight against extreme poverty and AIDs. She was an original member of the ONE campaign, has been a delegate to the G8 Summit and has met various leaders including Nancy Pelosi, Rick Warren and Matt Damon. That’s pretty impressive. And daunting. So as I’ve thought about how to get involved, stories such as hers have a tendency to inspire and intimidate me. Am I being called to a mission that large? Am I capable of something like that? How would I even begin? But then I took a look at a different missional mom and her story. She wasn’t discussed in Lee’s book and not many people will recognize her name. But I know her story well. I’ve witnessed it through my 32 years of life and I am continually inspired by it. Her name is Kathy Casper and she is my mother.

From as early as I can remember, she has given herself to others through various volunteer activities. In my early years, she was a room parent and PTO president at my school. She organized fundraisers, festivals and holiday parties. She has led countless activities at her church from turkey suppers to food baskets, children’s church to food pantry distribution. She has cooked dinners for those in need, visited hospitals and nursing homes, and listened to those who need to be heard. She has provided clothes to those who have few, arranged for single moms to have transportation, planned baby showers for women who have little. She has invited the hurting and lonely to her holiday gatherings, and taken carry-outs to those who can’t attend. She has never created a non-profit organization, traveled halfway around the world (or even outside the US) or rubbed elbows with famous politicians or actors. Yet, she has touched and forever changed the lives of many. She is a true inspiration to anyone who takes a few minutes to observe her actions and her heart for others.

Through her, I realize that perhaps my story doesn’t have to be along the lines of the Global Soccer Mom. More importantly, I just need to be willing to pitch in and help out where I am. After all, there are people in need all around me—such as those who I provided with coffee and pastries at the community center yesterday. I might not have been working alongside Matt Damon, but I was touching the lives of people who have been overlooked by our community for too long.

And so I thank my mom for all she has done, for the numerous ways she has helped those whose paths she has crossed and for the countless other things she has done when no one was looking. I thank her for being a true example of a missional mom and for lighting the path of many…including my own.

As I Tucked You In

2011-04-27T12:54:00.000-04:00

The other night as I tucked you in,
The wanderings of my mind did soon begin.
I took a fresh, renewed look at you
And realized how quickly these four years flew.

As the roundness of your cheeks subside,
My mind simply refuses to abide
And realize you are always growing still
Despite the constant hopings of my will.

Your height has stretched and grown tall
A process I sadly cannot forestall.
You speak of stories with depth and detail.
A growing mind you constantly unveil.

That night I smiled at my little man
And recalled when your life once began.
My thoughts returned to little baby coos
And rocking, cradling that was so profuse.

I’m afraid time moves on and so must I,
Even so, always grateful I will try
To be when arms stretch wide and you proclaim,
“Mommy, will you cuddle me?” once again.

Deprivation: It’s a Good Thing

2011-04-19T15:26:00.003-04:00

A few days ago I picked up something special for Kenna. I had no idea that the $2.19-purchase would excite her so much. When I gave it to her, her eyes lit up and she danced around in glee. She held on to her new treasure as if it were a prized possession. What was it? A toothbrush.

In that moment, I realized that simplicity rules in the lives of kids. In this age of instant gratification, entitlement mentality and a constant stream of fleeting pleasures, parenting can be challenging. Any parent who has pushed a shopping cart down a toy aisle has heard the screams of, “But I want it!”—a guttural response that kids come equipped with, much to their parents’ chagrin. Matt and I have tried to be intentional about teaching our children that instant gratification, wasteful spending and cheap molded plastic don’t add value to their lives. But when they spot bubbles, underwear or even Cheez-Its with their favorite character smiling back at them, they don’t care about learning any lessons. And when a parent is tired and worn down, resisting the urge to plop such an item into the shopping cart to prevent a meltdown can seem like the easier solution. But in our strive for simpler living, we try to avoid that reflex, even at the risk of a meltdown.

Seeing Kenna’s enjoyment of a toothbrush gave me confidence that not giving in to the temptation for more, more, more is a paying off. We’ve always joked that depriving our children is a good thing. It makes them more thankful and appreciative of even a practical item, which gives me hope that my children might avoid the dreaded entitlement mentality. The last thing I want is a child that resembles the snooty kid in the new Toyota commercials, but I digress. The grandparents appreciate the deprivation because it’s easier for them to spoil the grandkids.

Recently, we spent a Saturday in Amish country. Our main purpose was to stock-up on meat and bulk food items. Little did we know the kids would love the trip. Why? They were amazed by the horse and buggies. You’d think we had taken them to Disney World as they continued to point out and exclaim with joy every time they saw a horse go clip clopping by. We could’ve easily spent that day paying to go to some sort of attraction, but instead we spent it as a family, doing something practical, while witnessing a different way of life. What we discovered is that they don’t need constant flash and sparkle. Sometimes simplicity is all that’s in order.

So this summer instead of heading to Mickey-haven, perhaps we will load up the van and re-visit Shipshewana for some bulk food and buggy spotting. In the end, we’ll save a wad of cash, avoid endless lines, lessen our risk of sun exposure and not be completely exhausted when all is said and done. And if the kids are really good, we might even get them a shiny new toothbrush.

Hiking Boots and Proud

2011-04-13T16:51:00.001-04:00

The other day I heard a commercial that really got under my skin. These women were shoe shopping and comparing themselves to shoes, defining who they were by what sort of shoe represented them. One woman said that since she had a baby, she feels like a hiking boot—a big, bulky hiking boot. All she wanted was to be a cute, strappy sandal. But, lucky for that woman, a local plastic surgeon could remove all signs of motherhood from her stretched and tired body, and return her to her pre-child self. No work required. Just a wad of cash and a few weeks of recovery.

I was actually relating to the woman until she explained herself. You see, I would rather be a hiking boot. It has nothing to do with how I feel about my body. I have just always preferred hiking to high fashion. That is how I am wired. Yet I know that a woman’s preference for nature was not the point of this ad. What really irked me was this desire to return to how things were before baby came along and the empty promise that a miracle surgery could return everything to those blissful, carefree days.

I’m not saying that I am 100 percent comfortable with my post-baby body. There are flaws that did not exist before, as well as some extra padding and pounds. Sure I spend a fair amount of time exercising to counteract the toll those 18+ months of pregnancy took on my body and in part that is because I enjoy exercise. I feel a sense of accomplishment from physical exertion. At the same time, I understand that I cannot return to that pre-Jonas body that, incidentally, had its own flaws as well. Likewise, I cannot return to endless nights of uninterrupted sleep, spontaneous trips to a café, quiet mornings lounging about or clothing that carries stains made only by myself. Do those things irritate me at times? Absolutely. But I understand that my body and my life have been shaped by becoming a mother. And there’s no going back.

So to believe I can magically erase any signs of carrying a little person to full-term is not only a fallacy, but also a defeating notion that I refuse to buy in to. Instead I will be proud of who I am and the journey that has brought me here. And if I find myself longing for that trimmer self of yesteryear, then I can slip on my hiking boots and hit the trails.

Germaphobia 101

2011-04-06T15:50:00.000-04:00

As a parent, I realize I am tasked with teaching my children many things—manners, responsibility and the finer points of a good tennis swing. I spend a fair amount of my time building those lessons into their lives, but what I’ve come to learn is that often the lessons they learn most are the ones you don’t realize you’re teaching.

Jonas has a quick temper (something he unfortunately gets from both genetic providers). We’ve been working endlessly on helping him take deep breaths and relax instead of reacting in anger. The lesson commenced at birth and is still ongoing and sometimes it seems with little progress. Yet a few moments ago I realized he has learned something else along the way. Something I didn’t realize I had been teaching him: how to be a germaphobe.

I admit that I have a certain preference to avoid germs, especially particular strains of them, including any that bring on stomach ailments. And so I strongly encourage the kids to clean their hands after being in most public places—restrooms, school, church, the grocery store, the mailbox. Apparently the clean hands lesson is beginning to rub off. As Jonas and Kenna were playing picnic with the neighbor girl, I heard Jonas say, “Don’t touch my food! I don’t want to get your germs!” The neighbor asked, “So what? Are you going to use pretend hand sanitizer?”

After hearing that exchange, I began to wonder: is the importance of clean hands or the beginning stages of germaphobia making a greater impression on him? And so I was reminded that too often we instill unintentional lessons and our actions speak louder than we realize. While clean hands are important, maybe I could back off the disinfectant just a bit.

Shrinkage

2011-03-29T16:38:00.002-04:00

I’ve been thinking a lot about seasons lately. Our outside world may be shifting from winter to spring, but my recent contemplation has nothing to do with temperatures and budding leaves. It started the other night when I drove past Babies R Us and realized it has been quite some time since I have been to that store. We went through a stage of frequently stopping in to grab some sort of baby “necessity.” Those days seem long ago (even if it was just a few months back). Then I read this passage in the book “The Missional Mom” by Helen Lee. She says, “When your children are very young, you will necessarily have to focus more on their needs, and you can embrace that season while recognizing that it is just a season, which will soon pass.” And I realized that’s exactly where I am.

Lately I’ve had a bit of an itch to get out more, to be more active in different areas, to focus on more than just the little ones…part of the reason why I started reading the book. For the past five years, I’ve felt like I’ve lived in a self-absorbed bubble of sorts. My world shrank to a very small size as I turned my attention to raising babies. The problem is, I didn’t realize shrinkage would occur. You see, I was clueless when I had my first. Before having kids, I had an image of how life with baby would go. Our sweet boy would sleep in a bassinet in the office as I feverishly typed away. I assumed he’d be a portable little companion who would accompany me where I wanted to go. Then Jonas was born and refused to sleep for the first year of life. Talk about a reality check. It was quite a rude awakening for me and at times left me feeling frustrated and alone. Shouldn’t I be doing more? Am I neglecting certain relationships? What about my own goals and aspirations? After all, I am more than just a mom.

But then I read Lee’s words and I drove by Babies R Us—that physical reminder of how quickly things change. While I may still have days of wishing for a different agenda, I must remember Lee’s words and realize that this season will come to a close. Unlike the repetition of spring, summer, fall and winter, this one will never return. So instead of wishing it away or focusing on the storms that may come with it, I choose to bask in the sun of new discoveries, excited squeals, chubby cheeks and little arms reaching to embrace me before the next season begins.

Give-and-Take

2011-03-22T10:15:00.002-04:00

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my nearly 12 years of marriage, it’s that as with any relationship, marriage is a give and take. I had a visual reminder of that the other day when Jonas took two toys with him on our walk. One was a Care Bear. The other was a vintage Transformer shaped like a gun. I’m sure anyone can guess which parent has influenced each choice. Here’s the thing: I have no problem with my 4-year-old toting around a Care Bear and asking to watch “Care Bears: Oopsy Does It!” for the 58th time. But for a mom who was raised in a house with a strict “no war toys” policy (water guns aside, but that’s a hypocrisy for another day), seeing him aim and fire that Transformer leaves me wondering how to handle the situation.

Now for the other side of the equation: Matt’s not so certain about the Care Bear thing, finding them more annoying than anything. But, he enjoys bonding with his son over toys he played with as a child. He doesn’t see it as a “war toy” or a tool for teaching aggressive behavior. According to Matt’s perspective, it’s simply a toy he played with as a child and since he hasn’t turned into a homicidal maniac, what’s the big deal?

Before kids, I swore guns would have no place in our house and especially not in our children’s play. Yet even before the Transformer was dug out of a storage box and made its appearance, Jonas had begun fashioning guns out of random household items. So what do I do? At the moment, I take a deep breath and remind myself that I’m not the only parent in the equation. Then I pray the gun stage passes quickly, offer to fire up the Oopsy movie for one more viewing and hope the power of a Care Bear stare can transcend the television screen. But, as Matt pointed out, “Guns are a reality. Shooting rainbows out of your tummy to make everything all better is NOT.” So I suppose we’re all giving and taking.

Flying High

2011-03-17T16:54:00.000-04:00

Today we flew a kite. We stood in the sunshine and wind, while our coats remained indoors. We donned our sunglasses, unraveled some string and let the kite take flight. We ran. We laughed. We absorbed the sun’s warm rays. We discovered flower bulbs beginning to poke their way through last year’s fallen leaves. We saw buds swaying on the tree branches. We realized that a Midwestern winter isn’t all bad; it makes you appreciate its departure and rejoice in the return of spring.

Book Junkie

2011-03-15T17:24:00.001-04:00

My bookshelf looks naked. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but it does at least have some breathing room now. We took a few minutes over the weekend to remove excess from our lives by clearing out unnecessary books. Everyone in the family went to their respective bookshelves and determined what were keepers and what would be donated to Better World Books. Yes, even the kids took part. It was a great teachable moment for them. Throughout the process, we explained how we have excess and it is our responsibility to give to those who live in need. While the kids questioned the necessity, they finally got the hang of things. But the real teachable moment was for me.

As a self-proclaimed book junkie, I have an attachment to tangible books. I love the look, feel and smell of them. I love to hold a good read in my hand and feel its weight as I turn each textured page. Then I love placing it on a shelf, so I can be surrounded by those words and pages as I type away in my office. I’ve yet to convert to an electronic reader because I don’t see how it can engage me in the same way—after all they lack any sort of nostalgic smell. But I’m coming to realize that library books have that same smell. While they can’t sit on my shelf as I work, they also don’t collect dust and are easier on the budget.

As I previously mentioned, I’ve been contemplating minimalism—not in any extreme way, but in a baby step sort of way. I’m tired of clutter and unnecessary possessions that demand more cleaning, more organizing and more maintenance. The plethora of toys started me on this kick, but I realized that if I expect the kids to release some of their possessions, I needed to do likewise.

And so, this weekend I took a discerning look at my book collection. I am proud to say that I finally parted with some books that had made it through past rounds of garage sales and book drives. Yes, I still have plenty and perhaps should’ve gotten rid of more, but this is a baby step and a starting point to living with less stuff. And now, having set the example, I can with clear conscious turn my de-cluttering ambitions to the toys strewn about the house.

Fare the Well, Space Ranger

2011-03-09T17:36:00.000-05:00

Some days I feel as though my chief task is merely transporting items from one area of the house to another. After carrying a barely played with stuffed toy up the stairs and into a child’s bedroom for the ninth time this week, I’ve begun to wonder: why do we have so much stuff? As a result, I’ve been contemplating living more simply, discarding some of that excess and clearing superfluous junk from our lives. If it doesn’t add value, why do we hang on to it? I suppose you could say I’ve been contemplating and exploring minimalism, intrigued by the idea of a life lived unencumbered by possessions. Yet, as I make grand plans for downsizing, I have been faced with moments of weakness.

Amidst the plethora of toys in this house, our kids have chosen a few as their prized possessions. For Kenna, it’s a baby who rarely leaves her arms, while awake or sleeping. For Jonas, it has been a few trains during the day and a blue bunny at night. But at Christmas he added a new member to his entourage—a small-scale Buzz Lightyear. His eyes danced with excitement when he saw Buzz under the Christmas tree. That $8 toy could’ve been his only gift for the season and he would’ve been completely satisfied. For the last couple of months, he has played with Buzz, slept with him, carried him to school in his backpack and taken him on sleepovers. He continued to thank us for weeks on end for bringing Buzz into his life. And then the bubble burst and the relationship forever changed.

Buzz suffered the inevitable end of many cheap, plastic toys—his leg fell off. The moment it happened, I feared a meltdown was upon us. How would Jonas react? What would we do? Of course Jonas has had plenty of toys break and it has always been a lesson in product quality and gentle play. This time it had nothing to do with how Jonas had treated the toy (he had merely picked him up and the leg inexplicably fell off). At that moment, I found myself not resorting to the typical “plastic toys fall apart” speech or “you have plenty of other toys to choose from” lecture. Instead, as I saw his eyes fill with tears, I was ready to grab the keys and head to the store for a replacement. Immediately. Thankfully I sat with my mouth closed and watched. I let him guide my reaction and my words. And he taught me a lot.

Over the next few days, we made feeble attempts to fix Buzz. Glue nor tape could make him whole again. Jonas continued to carry Buzz and his unattached leg with him for a few days, but then things changed. Suddenly Buzz got left behind at bedtime. And Jonas didn’t care. He no longer accompanied him to school or sat beside him, while he ate his dinner. Instead, he lay in two pieces watching from afar.

The moment the leg busted off, I was ready to go against my newfound thoughts on minimalism to replace one plastic toy with another. I was ready to heal his wounds with a new shiny prize. But what Jonas showed me is that life goes on, kids are resilient, plenty of distractions exist to fill that void…and that perhaps I was the one who was more sentimentally attached to the space ranger and the joy, imaginative play and companionship he inspired.

Groundhog

2011-03-01T17:19:00.001-05:00

It’s no secret that I love hot, sunny summer days. I welcome heat and humidity over snow and cold any day. Yes, I know Northern Indiana isn’t exactly the climate I should inhabit. I blame my family for that one (and have tried convincing them to head south with me). But until that happens, I do my best to make it through the cold, gloomy days of winter until summer begins to resurface. I attempt to stay optimistic and tell myself that winter can’t last forever, but this winter, my optimism has waned. And yet, on this sunny, 40-degree day, hope has alighted, giving me a chance to shake off the winter hibernation and reemerge into the world of fresh air and open landscapes. As the snow melts and the sun shines down, I’m struck by the feeling that I’m also coming out of a second hibernation—that of the baby stage.

For nearly 5 years, I have been caring for a baby or quite young toddler. It has meant losing sleep, skipping showers, changing agendas and sometimes forgetting where I am in the mix. I remember when Jonas was first born, I counted down each three months of his development, thinking, “Okay, we made it to 3 months. Let’s just get to 6 months. Phew! That stage is over. Now on to 9 months.” Making it through each 3-month increment gave me hope that perhaps we would survive the first year…and maybe even beyond. I finally felt like I was getting the hang of the parenting thing and then Kenna joined us. Juggling two little ones thrust me back into the cave of hibernation. I was once again consumed by the baby stage and all the tasks that go along with guiding them through their first years.

Now, as surely as the snow melts away outside and the spring flowers plan their arrival in a few weeks, I feel as though I am emerging, no longer consumed by constant care and guidance. With Jonas off to school and Kenna seeking out greater independence, my tasks as their mother have changed. No longer am I bound by frequent napping, periods of colic or constricting nursing schedules. My role is evolving from constant hands-on, to now more of a guide and observer.

And so, I find myself feeling like a groundhog of sorts—Michiana Meagan. Shaking off the long-winter’s sleep, I am poised and ready to breathe in the fresh air, enjoy some independence, reemerge into the world…and shed those final winter pounds.

Scatter-dayed

2011-02-23T08:17:00.004-05:00

My husband came home last night exhausted and frustrated by the day he’d had at work. He said, “Today sucked. I pretty much had a lot of things in progress, but none of it is done.” My reply was not a sympathetic, “Oh, sweetie, let me rub your shoulders and help you forget about your day.” It was a very honest and immediate response of, “Yeah. That pretty much describes my life.”

About 4.5 years ago, I was quite organized. I started a task and I completed it as quickly as possible, so I could move on to the next one. In fact, I was so organized and focused that I chose to be a work-from-home, freelance writer—a career that takes determination to not get distracted by things like laundry, sunny afternoons or mid-day episodes of News Radio. Now, I’m lucky if I can empty the dishwasher, match-up all the socks or even complete this post (which did not happen) without the voice of a little one attempting to pull me away. And what has all this interruption and distraction done for me? Made me feel totally and completely scatter brained. Case in point, I managed to lose my phone and my wallet this past weekend—two things that never happened pre-kids.

Four-and-a-half years ago, I dusted weekly; vacuumed frequently; paid bills on time, every time; always knew where my phone and wallet were; folded laundry in one sitting; snoozed uninterrupted in the warm sun; read piles of books and magazines; wrote three paragraphs without getting sidetracked…. In short, I was productive, focused and a master of completion. I operated with clarity. Now my mind is jumbled with tasks yet to be completed, while two little voices do their best to redirect me. So, while yesterday may have been an exception for Matt, it’s every day for me. It’s my reality of living scatter-dayed.

Valentine

2011-02-15T08:20:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, Jonas asked me at breakfast how old I was. Not being able to recall my age off the top of my head, I attempted to do the math before I’d consumed my morning coffee. He remembered the answer and blurted it out before I completed the calculation. When he said the number, it surprised me. Am I really that old? When did that happen? But last night’s Valentine’s Day was evidence that, yes, indeed I am that old.

Eleven years ago yesterday, my husband and I spent our pre-kids Valentine’s Day enjoying dinner out followed by a less-than cerebral movie “Dude, Where’s My Car?” Last night we spent the evening a bit differently. We’ve never been ones to over-hype the Hallmark holiday and yesterday was no exception. We didn’t head to a fancy restaurant for dinner. Instead we dined on leftover tacos. Afterwards, I finished reading a book on the impacts of the princess obsession on little girls, while Matt worked on investment planning. Then we cuddled up together as we watched a documentary on Ronald Reagan’s presidency.

Now I know plenty of people would say this is evidence that over a decade of marriage has killed any romantic inclinations. No, it may not have been a romantic evening as Hollywood might portray it, but after spending more than a decade together, I guess you could say we’ve sufficiently evolved past that. Last night was just as enjoyable as that night-out 11 years ago. Why? I didn’t have to slave over the delicious meal we consumed, no exorbitant amount of money was spent, we watched something that enticed my brain cells instead of killing them and I got to do it beside my best friend.

Roving Billboard

2011-02-09T15:56:00.002-05:00

I’ve never been one for bumper stickers. Trust me; I have my opinions. I just don’t typically display them on the hindquarters of my car. I like to wait until I have a conversation with someone before I let them know my worldview. But I have recently changed my perspective…or at least made an adjustment to my no-sticker policy.

Jonas started school at Marquette Montessori Academy a few months ago. I didn’t know if my 3-year-old was really ready for a 5-day-a-week commitment to focused learning. Or maybe it was more about me not being ready to schedule my life around his earlier mornings and pre-lunch pickups. Whatever the reason, I wasn’t sure how my momma’s-boy would take to school. After the first day, it was obvious that my hesitations were completely unnecessary. He loves it and not just because it gives him a chance to make new friends and carry on deep conversation regarding Thomas the Train and superheroes. He has gained so much self-confidence and healthy independence, not to mention his academic achievements, such as counting to 100 and beginning to read.

I’m proud of his accomplishments and glad we made the decision to pursue Marquette. When we moved a year ago, we debated going rural. But because of what we saw and heard of Marquette, we decided to stay in South Bend so our kids could benefit from a rare public Montessori school. While I favored the Montessori style, I didn’t expect to find such enthusiastic teachers, principal and parents. Pride and passion seem to seep from the school.

And it’s because of this pride, community and progress I’ve seen in my own son and his classmates that I decided it was time to ease-up on my previously held conviction. The adornment I chose for our van has nothing to do with honor rolls or stick-figure family portraits. Instead, it’s a dragon surrounded by the name of a place that is teaching my son more than I thought a 3- or 4-year-old could learn, a place that has given us confidence in our decision to stay within the city limits and has made our van a roving billboard for Marquette Montessori.

Slipping into Pain

2011-02-01T21:30:00.002-05:00

The other night I was carrying Kenna when I slipped on a patch of ice. One moment I was standing, the next I was sitting firmly on the ground with major pain in my coccyx and with a crying girl by my side. Thankfully Kenna was fine other than being a bit frightened. Loved ones helped me to my feet and I limped my way to the van. Even a few days since, I have a sore reminder of just how quickly one can lose footing and wind up in serious pain. But no one knows that better than a dear cousin of mine.

Seven weeks ago, one of my cousins gave birth to a precious baby girl. Before her arrival, ultrasounds and tests showed that she wouldn’t have the easy introduction into this world that every parent hopes for. A congenital heart defect, along with other factors, would force her to fight her way through every moment of her life. And fight she did. Her mother spent the last couple months a hundred miles away from her husband, 3-year-old son, friends and family to be by her daughter’s side. Through it all, she showed strength, hope and optimism. Today she held her precious one in her arms and said good-bye to her as the little one peacefully left this Earth.

I cannot even begin to imagine what she is experiencing. A few months ago, she was celebrating the life to come and now her feet have slipped out from underneath her. Thankfully she has a support system to catch her and hold her close.

Each time I tenderly take a seat, I may be tempted to complain, but instead I am reminded that my pain pales in comparison. And I’m also reminded to hug my little ones just a bit tighter.

Eager

2011-01-25T13:45:00.001-05:00

There’s nothing like opening the door to find muddy paw prints dotting the kitchen floor as your welcome home surprise. That’s the scene I discovered today. I’ll admit that my initial response was to ignore them. In jest, I asked the kids, “Who wants to mop the floor?” Jonas eagerly said, “I do! I do!” He went to the cleaning closet and pulled out the Swiffer. I helped get the cloth in place and he went to work. For 5 to 10 minutes, he focused his attention on removing those muddy prints, as his sister continually asked if he needed help. When he was done, we had a fairly clean floor and a very proud 4-year-old.

For the last few months, we’ve been giving the kids more responsibilities. They clean up their dishes after meals, help do laundry, feed the pets and help set the table for dinner. What we’ve discovered is that not only does it help to ease our load, but it gives the kids a great deal of satisfaction. Sure we could just as easily turn on the TV and let them veg out as we cleaned up the dinner table. Or we could encourage them to go play with the bazillion toys they received for Christmas. But by getting them involved, they feel good about themselves, and they learn that we are a team and not their servants.

At this age, they are eager to lend a helping hand, to do what Mom and Dad are doing, to be more grown up. I figure we might as well take advantage of that enthusiasm and set the stage now before it becomes a “chore” later. I’m sure we’ll get to the day when the kids fight over not wanting to mop the floor instead of who gets the Swiffer first. So for now, we’ll encourage the eagerness, boost some self-esteem and enjoy a cleaner floor as a result.

Art Gallery

2011-01-18T11:19:00.002-05:00

A year ago we left our starter home for more square footage and a yard. But we left behind some beautiful appliances. We had collected quite a nice set-up with a double convection oven, glass cooktop, whisper-quiet dishwasher and a gorgeous, stainless steel bottom-mount refrigerator. A feature I loved about that fridge was how it wasn’t magnetic. I didn’t want a fridge cluttered with tacky magnets and dusty pictures. But then I had kids. And now my fridge is so covered with art projects, pictures and reminders that I sometimes forget what color the appliance actually is. With one look, it’s obvious that children reside here.

The thing is, it doesn’t stop with the fridge. Our dining room table is currently being used as a train table. Our front room has a spring horse and mini-trampoline taking up any available floor space. Our kitchen table is showcasing Transformers. And don’t even get me started on the family room that has baskets of Legos, books and random toys strategically placed throughout.

So, even being of lower quality and greater age, our current appliances serve us just fine. Sure, I admit there are times when I fire-up the dishwasher that sounds like a 747 getting ready for take-off that I do miss our old ones. But what I’ve come to realize is that, while the old kitchen had innovation and sleek beauty, our new one has something greater: a built-in art gallery.

Snow Day

2011-01-11T17:33:00.000-05:00

Let me start by saying I really despise winter. Sure I appreciate the beauty of freshly fallen snow as it lines tree branches and glistens in the sunlight. But I’d much prefer 90 degrees with high humidity. So it clearly makes no sense that I live in Northern Indiana and just a year ago moved further north to be even closer to the lake-effect snow area. Ah, the price you pay for family. But it was the weather I so despise that taught me something about family.

On Saturday morning, we awoke to somewhere between two and three feet of snow covering everything in sight. We quickly realized any plans we had for outside of the house at least in the a.m. hours would be postponed. As the flakes continued to fall and a state of emergency was issued, plans for the entire day were changed. I admit that sometimes when I have plans in mind, I don’t appreciate being forced to change them. So instead of a typical Saturday full of hustling and bustling, we stayed home, did some shoveling and snow playing, laid around, watched movies, played some games and just enjoyed spending time together with no rush to get anywhere. It was awesome. And much needed.

And so, I realized that perhaps snow isn’t all bad. But perhaps we should also take it upon ourselves to slow down, clear the schedule and spend a day just chilling out every once in a while. Here’s hoping that next time it doesn’t take a record-setting blizzard to reinforce that point.

White Whale

2011-01-05T16:30:00.004-05:00

On several occasions, one of my sisters-in-law has asked for what I would consider to be a rather unusual gift: a car detailing. I have a hard time understanding this request. Waste a gift on some soap and a good scrubbing? Really? To me gifts are meant to be something special that you wouldn’t necessarily give yourself, that will bring a smile to your face whenever you see it, that holds value and pleasure in one. Car detailing doesn’t do that for me.

My husband believes my gift perspective means each one must be frivolous and lacking practicality. But one of my favorite gifts from this Christmas offers way more practicality than frivolity. In fact, this gift belongs to a category that I swore I’d never desire to receive as a present. Yet, this small kitchen appliance has been proudly displayed and even once used since I received it. Each time I see it, I think of the wonderful creations it will make possible, and then I wonder who I have become. Who is this person that is excited about a bread maker?

When Matt and I first got married, a home-prepared meal was good if it qualified in the following manner (and order): quick, nutritious, easy, tastey. Let’s just say we relied heavily on boxes and preservatives. But a transformation has been taking place over the last few years. After getting a better understanding of the food industry through works such as “Food, Inc.,” I began to reevaluate what we consume. And then I read an article about a chemical that tricks the taste buds into tasting sugar, salt and other spices. Major food companies have contracted to use the chemical and since the amounts would be small, they can hide it under the “artificial flavors” heading with the consumer being none-the-wiser, even though adequate research has yet to be done on the chemical. Even though I came across the article a few years after it was first published, it was enough for me to put down my spoon of tomato soup, put the boxed mashed potatoes back on the shelf and crack open that dusty, never-before-used copy of “The Joy of Cooking” (a practical gift received a few years ago).

And so, the last year has been full of experiments, making me feel like my own version of “Julie & Julia.” Do you know what I’ve learned? That making a cake from scratch is possible; that pudding doesn’t have to come from a box; that homemade bread, some olive oil and a few spices make good croutons; that oftentimes “convenience” foods don’t save a lot of time and don’t taste nearly as good; that boiled icing is trickier than I had anticipated; and that a bread maker is a perfectly suitable and desirable Christmas gift.

I’ve come a long way, but I still have further yet to go. While I may have conquered hard-boiled eggs, I still have one white whale that eludes me: real mashed potatoes. This could be the year when I take peeler in hand and whip up my own potatoes, free from any sort of powder, box or artificial ingredients. Or maybe this will be the year of the baked potato. Either way, one thing’s for sure: I might like my practical bread maker, but I’m still not ready for a car detailing.

‘Twas the week after Christmas

2010-12-28T15:27:00.000-05:00

‘Twas the week after Christmas and all through the house
The creatures are grumpy, including the mouse.
The stockings are wadded in a pile over there,
And the tree skirt is looking all sorts of bare.

The presents are opened and sorted in piles.
Long gone are the ohs, the ahs and the smiles.
Scattered about here and there are the gifts,
And now starts the season of post-holiday fits.

A week of constant spoiling and late bedtimes to boot
Has brought in attitude along with new loot.
So has begun the constant fights for new toys
Amongst both the little girl and even the boy.

So much for Merry Christmas and goodwill to all men.
Now it’s bickering, squabbling and time out once again.

Frosty

2010-12-20T16:37:00.001-05:00

The kids are watching "Frosty the Snowman"... again. This year I decided to show the kids Christmas classics from my generation (and older). It will be a few years before they are ready for my personal favorite: "It's a Wonderful Life." But Jonas is at the perfect age to be introduced to the younger classics, such as Frosty, Rudolph, Snoopy and the Grinch. I didn't know how he would respond to animation of previous generations, but it appears my hesitations were for naught. He has taken to them quite well. Thus, another tradition has been handed down...sort of.

Part of the tradition of those animated holiday classics was anxiously awaiting the one night a year when they aired on TV. That was our one shot at catching the show before it went on hiatus until the following year. I remember when that one magical night came. No DVRs or DVDs existed so we could fit the shows into our preferred schedule. Instead, we adjusted our lives accordingly and sat down as a family to get our annual holiday cartoon fix. Yet in this era of instant gratification, one special night a year does not exist. My kids can ask to watch the show whenever they desire. They don't have to wait for a specific night. They can watch it 20 times in one season. Or even in the middle of summer.

I am not typically one for long-standing pomp and circumstance, but in the midst of the season of traditions, I must admit that I do find myself getting nostalgic and doing my best to continue some traditions that I've held near and dear. But what multiple viewings of Frosty has shown me once again is that each generation may pass down a tradition to the next, but that new generation never clings to it with the exact same depth, meaning or appreciation. Even still, I'm happy to oblige their requests for one more Frosty.

Nervously Facebooking

2010-12-16T08:27:00.001-05:00

Last night Kenna pulled out a toy computer and stretched out on the floor in front of it. She didn’t turn it on to the play the pre-loaded letters games. Instead she started clicking away on the keys. When Matt asked her what she was doing, she said, “Checking my email.” A few minutes later she banged on the side of the monitor and said, “Come on computer!” Apparently she has witnessed my struggles with my somewhat lethargic desktop. We sat there laughing and thinking of how much computers are a part of our lives, even though when we were 2-years-old personal computers did not exist. Now our kids pretend to check their Facebook and have become proficient at maneuvering their way through an iPod. I often wonder what impact constant communication and connection will have on their generation. Sometimes I fear the instant gratification side of it may have detrimental implications. But last night I realized how thankful I am that the technology exists.

Yesterday I logged into Facebook countless times—far more than on a typical day. Was I posting my random thoughts, dinner choices or general annoyances? No. I was keeping up-to-date on my cousin’s labor and delivery. A few months ago, a routine ultrasound raised cause for concern and upon further evaluation it was realized that the baby had birth defects. Ever since, we have all been anxiously awaiting the arrival of her little one. As my cousin labored at Riley Children’s Hospital a couple hundred miles away, we could all read about her progress and send up prayers of hope, comfort and healing. We rejoiced when hearing the baby had arrived and was doing well. But today I scroll through the updates with trepidation as her mom posted in the wee hours of the morning, “Baby girl is having a ruff night, please, please pray for her.”

I know my day will be spent nervously checking for updates and praying that Baby Girl will get stronger. It’s moments like these when I give thanks for the technology which sometimes acts as more of a distraction than a benefit. And it’s also moments like these when I hug my kids just a little tighter.

Overfloweth

2010-12-08T16:24:00.003-05:00

Okay, so I admit that I can be a Negative Nancy. My husband says I’m a pessimist, but I like to say I’m a realist. Whatever the label, the glass is typically more empty than it is full. But recently it seems my heart has grown a few sizes as I have been overwhelmed with emotion lately. (And before anyone asks, no, I’m not pregnant.)

Case in point, I started the other morning overwhelmed with tears. They came courtesy of the YouTube video about the Locke family and their late son Dax who lost his battle with leukemia at 13 months of age. As I sobbed so hard that I gave myself a headache, I couldn’t help but feel blessed. That day I hugged my kids tighter, kissed them more and complained less about their messy toys. Of course that video is so touching, who wouldn’t be moved to tears? Even so, I’ve focused on keeping that attitude of gratefulness even in the midst of the season of busyness, and especially as I see friends of my own struggle with jobs, health and uncertainty.

Our new approach to gift giving this year has only added to my changed attitude. We’re trying to do it less from our wallet and more from our hearts. That means more hand-made and homemade gifts, as well as purchases that can’t be found in the typical retail store. It means baking cookies and taking on craft projects. Sure it may seem like we’re taking on more time-consuming projects during a time already filled to the brim. But what I’ve realized is when there is purpose behind the action, it ceases to feel like busyness and it offers continual moments of remembering those we hold dearest. Plus the kids get to be involved along the way. It’s not just one day of giving, but a season filled with love and appreciation.

Last night as we left a store with our latest craft items in tow, we heard the jingling bell of the Salvation Army. I’ll be honest; typically I avoid those buckets, but with an ever-filling cup, I decided to let the kids drop in some change. As I dug through my wallet, a woman who was making her own offering said, “You enjoy Christmas with those little ones. They are precious.” And again I was overwhelmed with emotion and gratitude, and the realization that regardless of what wrapped packages may be under the tree this year, I’ve already been blessed with the best gifts of all…and a cup that overfloweth.

The Crooked Path

2010-12-02T08:12:00.001-05:00

As a child, I was often told, “The sky is the limit” in regards to my professional life. I could be whatever I wanted to be when I grew up. The thing is, I believed it. I spent the first few decades of my life living according to that game plan, comfortable with my choices and happy with my career path. Then kids came along and suddenly this hard-working honor student felt like a bumbling fool. Surely if I could conquer my academic and career goals then I could handle the day-to-day tasks of raising small children. Right?

I have fumbled my way through the last few years of parenthood, hitting my stride from time-to-time, but spending a good deal of that time praying that my children don’t incur permanent damage due to my parental ignorance. Then I read “All Joy and No Fun” by Jennifer Senior in “New York Magazine.” And a light bulb clicked on. In her essay, Senior discusses the nitty-gritty side of parenthood and the fact that parents often report being less happy than their childless counterparts. But it was this statement that made my head nod in agreement:

When people wait to have children, they’re also bringing different sensibilities to the enterprise. They’ve spent their adult lives as professionals, believing there’s a right way and a wrong way of doing things; now they’re applying the same logic to the family-expansion business….

Last week I had a frank conversation with a midwife who discussed the reality of attempting to be a patient-focused care provider in a productivity-driven healthcare industry. Her plight and constant fight for her patients and the recognition long overdue her, left me speechless. But it wasn’t until reading this article that I connected the dots. Isn’t that exactly what I’ve been doing? I spent close to 30 years living my life in a productivity-driven world. First it was making the right grades and playing sports. Then it was my career. When kids came along, I assumed they would fit into that same task-oriented, definable-end-result way of doing things. After all, that was the only way I knew how to do life.

But with kids there are no assignments, due dates or employee reviews. It’s full of non-linear gray areas and long overdue payoffs. It’s a world completely outside the one I had prepared myself for. I suppose it’s time I learn from the patient-focused midwife and forget the time line, bottom line and straight line. Life with kids is a crooked path at best with an ever evolving and elusive end result. So I suppose it’s time I stop waiting for a report card to tell me how I’m doing.

In a Blink

2010-11-24T09:14:00.004-05:00

I’m not a morning person. I prefer to have my eyes shut while the sun makes its ascension, so I’ve missed plenty of sunrises. But since Jonas started school, I’ve had many opportunities to witness the early morning beauty. Even still, I have found myself lost in busyness and missing the swirling pinks and blues until they are fading into the daytime sky. Thankfully this morning was not one of those days. As I pulled open the curtains, magenta stripes streaked from the horizon. It was beautiful. But within a short amount of time, they faded. I realized just how majestic, yet fleeting sunrises are. In a blink of an eye, they are gone. Just like childhood.

The other night Kenna wanted to look through photo albums of the last couple of years. Looking back over the memories, I was amazed by how much Jonas has grown and changed as he has evolved from a 3 to a 4-year-old. Of course I expected changes in Kenna. She morphed from a plump infant to a spry toddler. But I didn’t expect to see such differences in Jonas. We thought he recently hit a growth spurt since his pants had started inching up his legs, but looking at the pictures showed that his height hasn’t been the only change. Most evident is the continual fading of his round cheeks as he moves further from toddlerhood and into boyhood.

I often get stuck in the day-to-day life with young kids and have a hard time realizing naptime struggles and temper tantrums won’t last forever. This is a passing stage in their lives. The house will not always be littered with Thomas the Train and baby doll accessories. The TV will play more than “Caillou” and “The Cat in the Hat.” Watching that sunrise today, I realized I don’t want to pass this phase with my eyes closed. It’s time I wake up and see the beauty before it’s too late.

Pockets

2010-11-17T16:19:00.001-05:00

Four years and two kids ago, I spent my days, weeks and months floating through large, spacious blocks of time. I could meander my way through a day, giving each task as much concentration as I desired. Now I live each moment knowing it could be interrupted at any second, bringing any train of thought to a screeching halt and wreaking havoc on my task list. But even at that, my to-dos exist in small increments. My brain is in a constant haze as I am forced to multi-task my way through each day. I move from one project to the next as swiftly as possible, trying to make use of every ounce of time I have available to me before the thought derailment occurs. Gone are the days of spacious, open blocks of undivided attention and present are pockets of mini-projects and rushed assignments.

Case in point, this morning’s work session derailed before it could even start when a computer glitch reared its ugly head. Once I gave up on that issue, I turned my attention to something else as I attempted to get focused and back on track: Facebook. That time sucker lasted until a voice began to notify me that she was all done sleeping…thirty minutes before her typical rising. So much for that work session. As I dressed and prepared Kenna for the day, I contemplated what I would do next. I could put away dishes, while she ate. I could do some straightening up after that and get in a quick workout before having to shower to get Jonas from school to get back for lunch and then clean up before nap time. Then, fingers crossed, if both kids napped well (and silently), I’d have a few more pockets to myself. While some of those things were accomplished, I spent breakfast indecisively contemplating what to do and when to do it, wasting the moments I did have, while mourning the loss of those massive blocks I used to know and love.

So here I am, thankful for my fast typing skills, racing through this pocket before I turn my attention to the next thing on the list, all the while whispering a prayer that today will be a long nap day…and doing my best to avoid that pocket stealer known as Facebook. But my quick typing has failed me and surprisingly social networking shall not be the derailer of the day. Instead, the little one’s bellowing cry is once again pulling me away, stealing my focus and making me long for one of those fat, hopeful blocks once more.

Crunchy

2010-11-10T15:28:00.001-05:00

Our family is a bit odd. Well, I suppose I’m the one who has to take the credit since most of our oddities come from my directives. Though I sometimes try to underplay our peculiarities, I’m going to put them out there. We are a natural birthing, cloth-diaper wearing, baby food making, organic food eating family. Our oddity even extends to household cleaners as we use vinegar and baking soda to tackle most cleaning needs. Call me crunchy, granola, what-have-you. I’m used to it. But why have we made these choices? While the diapers and the cleaning supplies have had great cost benefits, the real reason is because of environmental impact and to reduce the amount of chemicals our kids are exposed to. After all, generations before us did not come in contact with chemicals in the same way ours does. Or so I thought.

The other day I was having a chat with my dad and somehow the topic turned to kids shoes. He started telling about a shoe store that he loved as a kid that employed a marketing gimmick that made buying shoes more fun. It was an x-ray machine. After trying on the shoes, the child would stick his foot into the machine and they would blast it with x-rays so the parent could see how well the shoe fit. Parents loved the accuracy and kids loved seeing beneath the skin. But imagine the disappointment when the store had to remove the gimmick. Why? Apparently haphazardly exposing children to radiation isn’t a good thing.

A few days later, I asked my in-laws if they remembered this store. They started laughing and relaying their own fond memories of it. And then the stories continued. My mother-in-law told how in high school they used to play with mercury. The teacher would give them some to roll around in their hands. This is the same substance that has been banned from thermometers not because it leaks through the glass enclosure and comes in contact with the child, but because of the potential for contact. If the thermometer would happen to fall and break, a Hazmat team would need to be called for cleanup. Yet, my parent’s generation rolled it around in their hands.

Then my father-in-law chimes in with stories of chasing The Fogger down the road. What was The Fogger? A pesticide truck that sprayed a chemical haze. What was in that fog? DDT. Once a week the truck would make its journey through town and the kids would excitedly line up on their bikes to follow its path, all the while inhaling what we now know to be cancer-causing chemicals.

As a modern-day parent, I have been trained to view nearly everything my child comes in contact with as harmful. Does that paint have lead in it? Is that plastic container leeching? Was that cow pasture fed or feedlot raised? Did that come from China? While I sometimes get irritated by the inconvenience of having to seek out “safer” items, I have begun to realize how perception plays a big part when it comes to safety. After all, mercury was a great way to entertain high schoolers then. Now we get nervous if a fully intact mercury thermometer is on the same premises as our child. So as much as I may try to limit their exposure, who’s to say that something common today isn’t going to be the cancer-causer tomorrow. But in the meantime, I will still choose the rBGH-free organic milk for my two-year-old...and try to be confident in my perception.

Graceful

2010-11-04T09:03:00.002-04:00

Back in my teenage years, I swore I would go gray gracefully. I vowed that I would not give into society’s preference for later-in-life blonds, brunettes and redheads. Instead, I would allow nature to take its course and be proud of my natural hair color…especially if it was that beautiful silvery color though I always feared mine would favor the dull, yellowish hue. I made the no-coloring proclamation a decade or more before those unruly, white invaders would start to populate my once-blond hair. Now I am faced with the decision to stick with my pre-adult ideals or give into the peer pressure.

I have never been a big advocate for hair color for a variety of reasons, including the environmental and chemical aspects of it, but also because of my preference for being low maintenance (at least when it comes to appearance…food is a different story). While I did experiment with hair color on a few occasions, I always preferred the natural look. Though I must admit there is one hair coloring exception I have always favored: the blue-tinged gray. For some reason I have always liked seeing old ladies sporting blue hair with pride.

As more grays have begun to appear, I had a moment the other day of wondering if perhaps I should explore my options. Should I ignore my original vow and chalk it up to teenage ignorance? After getting over the shock of the visual reminder that I am in fact aging, I regained my composure. Especially after closer examination proved my previous fears wrong. My grays don’t sport that yellow-cast I assumed they would. Instead it appears my hair is leaning more towards the silvery variety.

So for now I will take a stand. I am not afraid to let my true colors show. I will not run to my stylist and demand a more youthful appearance. I choose to go gray gracefully. And who knows; I might like gray so much that I will become the youngest to sport the blue-tinged do.

Birthday Wishes

2010-10-27T08:32:00.003-04:00

Four years ago today, my life began to change in a very big way as I gave birth to our first child. Now I’m not saying everything changed the moment they lay him on my chest and our eyes locked for the first time. No. It didn’t happen that way at all. After 14 hours of labor, I squinted down through swollen eyes with a burst blood vessel to see a wailing newborn lying on my chest. He looked eerily like a shriveled version of my father. My first thought was not, “What a sweet and precious baby.” It was, “I just gave birth to my dad.” Followed closely by, “When is he going to stop crying?” He continued to cry his way through the first hour of his life, only being soothed once he began to nurse. To this day I am still his security blanket that he seeks when he needs soothing, and after a long and slow delivery, he is still a master procrastinator.

I know some moms say they were overwhelmed with love and affection when they first saw their babies. But I’ll be honest; while I was happy to meet him, the reality of becoming a parent scared me. Jonas was 10 days past his due date. While that bothered most of our family and friends, I was okay with delaying parenthood for a few more days. I knew how to care for him when he was still in the womb. All that changed when he finally entered the world. I had absolutely no baby experience and in some sort of ironic twist, Jonas was no textbook baby who would ease me through the immense transition into a new life stage. Instead he refused to sleep, had colic and wanted only his mommy…all the time. And again I’ll be honest; it was not an easy adjustment for this independent introvert who had visions of completing work as a peaceful baby snoozed in the bassinet in her office.

Four years ago, I left the hospital as a woman with a newborn. It would take a few years before I would feel like an actual parent. So I suppose this is the birth date of not just my firstborn, but of my journey to motherhood. And while we’ve both experienced growth spurts, milestones and temper tantrums along the way, we’ve come far from those delivery room tears. We have a lot more growing, learning and maturing to do, but we’re getting there. So happy birthday to us both.

Rainbow Hunters

2010-10-21T17:01:00.000-04:00

“The work will wait while you show the child the rainbow, but the rainbow won’t wait while you finish the work.” ~ Pat Clifford

I first heard this quote years before I had kids. It stuck with me, so much so that when our first child came along, I spent most of Jonas’ waking hours attempting to show him rainbows. I was there at his beck and call…and even sometimes before then. I managed to do most of the house and my professional work while he snoozed. Of course that could only last for so long. Eventually the laundry piled up, the dust collected, deadlines loomed and Jonas began to learn the skill of independent play. We still spent plenty of floor time together, but the balance began to shift.

Then Kenna came along. My hopes of giving her just as much attention met with reality. The possibility of a second child receiving equal time as the first is an impossibility, especially when you are trying to sell your house during that child’s first months of life. So she cooed to herself or rode along on my chest in a sling as I vacuumed, put away dishes and returned emails. Since Jonas has started school, Kenna has gotten a slight taste of what it’s like to be an only child. Yet as much as I want to spend entire mornings playing puppets with her or reading the same book for the tenth time, I do have a task list to consider.

The other day as I emptied the dishwasher, Jonas was asking me to look at his drawing and Kenna was requesting to be picked up. For a moment I thought to myself, “Show them the rainbow. The work can wait.” Then I realized I show them rainbows rather frequently. What I also need to show them is to be responsible individuals and citizens, to do their share and complete their work. So I told them both I would be with them in a minute, but currently I had to finish a project I had started. Both waited (to varying degrees) for me to finish. Soon Kenna got her cuddles and Jonas got the encouragement he sought.

I continued to contemplate that quote wondering if I should’ve ignored the dishes and answered their calls. Then it struck me; rainbows don’t occur every day. It’s not “show the child the cloud.” Now, I’m not advocating ignoring your child until some meteorological phenomenon comes along. I’m just saying that sometimes we need to better decipher a rainbow from a cloud, and along the way, teach them to become rainbow hunters of their own.

Haiku

2010-10-15T07:53:00.001-04:00

Swinging oh so high.
Stomach flops, head spins around.
When did I get old?

Blue Baby

2010-10-13T07:53:00.003-04:00

Kenna surprised us by taking another step toward big-girlhood. Both kids have had a pacifier until they reach age two, per our doc’s advice. Their second birthday is to be a ceremonious day when they choose a trophy that symbolizes their departure from their pacifier. Jonas chose a train (big surprise). Kenna said she wanted a blue baby. With her birthday a few weeks away, we perused toy aisles to find a blue baby she might like. Being attached to her paci for sleep, we didn't know if the doll would sufficiently soothe her, but our decision was made and there was no turning back. Imagine my surprise when she declared a week before her b-day that she wanted to say goodbye to her pacifier and get the baby.

Wanting to take advantage of the situation before she changed her mind, I loaded up the kids and off we went to the toy store that seemed to have the largest selection of babies in blue—a whopping two to choose from. Kenna proudly staked her claim and held on tightly to her trophy as we traveled home. When it came time to actually put the paci in the trash, she surprised me once more. I thought I might have to firmly "encourage" her to place it in the trash receptacle. Thankfully after just a moment's hesitation, she did it herself and claimed her baby.

But the next surprise was just around the corner. As I discarded the box, I finally read the packaging to discover just how blue the baby was. Apparently we had found the anatomically correct doll that wets his diaper after you give him a bottle. To the kids, it makes perfect sense. After all, it is a boy. Only those of us accustomed to neutered dolls find it surprising. Actually, I suppose they would be surprised by a Ken doll with underwear molded into his body. I can only imagine the questions (and fears) that would elicit….

Fly on the Wall

2010-10-06T08:19:00.002-04:00

I had the opportunity to observe in Jonas’ classroom yesterday. For an hour, I sat in the corner like a fly on the wall, watching him interact with his teacher and classmates and complete a few work projects, such as spindle boxes and pumpkin scrubbing. For about 30 minutes, he took soap and water, and scrubbed a pumpkin until it was spotless. He was so focused on what he was doing, careful to use the right amount of water without spilling it. And when he was done, do you know what he did? He cleaned up his area and put the work away for another child to have a turn. That’s right, before moving onto something else, he cleaned up what he was doing and put it away.

A few hours later, I’m standing in the kitchen looking at the trains strewn about the floor, the art project taking up the kitchen table and the other toys cluttering the house. And suddenly I realized my expectations for him might be a tad too low. How is it that at school, he puts stuff away before moving onto a different exercise? Because that is what they have taught him. Of course he has to clean up around the house, but too often we are rushed to get some place or it’s bedtime, and it’s just faster or easier for me to handle clean up. But I realized that if he knows enough to clean up at school, then I have set the bar too low at home.

It makes me wonder in what other ways I have underestimated his and Kenna’s abilities. How many times have I taken control of something because it is easier in the moment? Or because we are too rushed to give them the time to be responsible for themselves? I suppose this is a lesson in slowing down and teaching that being responsible is more important than being beholden to the clock.

So, sorry, buddy, but I’m on to you. I see what you’re capable of and things are a-changing.

Conservation

2010-10-01T15:37:00.001-04:00

I remember when I used to look good—or at least decent. I showered and did my hair daily. I even brushed my teeth two or three times each day. While I never considered myself a fashionista by any means, I did at least look put together and clean. Never would I have sported sweaty workout clothes, a greased back ponytail and not a stitch of make-up out in public. And yet that was my exact ensemble the other day, plus a hint of coffee breath.

On the way home from school, Jonas and Kenna wanted to stop at the library. Always looking to foster their love of books, we made the stop. The entire way there I kept hoping I wouldn’t bump into anyone I knew, especially not a client. The kids got a few books and I made it through public without being recognized. We made a similar trip again today though this time I did take it up a notch—I chose jeans and brushed my teeth.

I realize it’s only a matter of time before I run into someone I know. I also realize that if I really cared, I would’ve taken a few minutes to shower instead of vacuuming the floors or reading one more book to the kids. But instead I’ve come to terms with perfection not always being attainable. And when all else fails, I think of how much water I’ve conserved and money I’ve saved on beauty products.

So should you see me out in public looking as though I’ve just returned from a week-long camping trip in the wilderness with no access to soap and water, keep in mind that I’m just doing my part for the planet.

Splurge

2010-09-22T08:10:00.000-04:00

The kids' birthdays are next month, which has gotten me contemplating gift ideas. We would like to get them something enjoyable, but since my massive toy de-clutter of last week, I am leery of adding more plastic toys that emit noise, light and general annoyance. As I racked my brain, I absent-mindedly stumbled upon the greatest toy of all.

Since Jonas has started school and Kenna has lost her playmate for a few hours each day, I was seeking ways to keep her entertained. During an information night at Jonas' Montessori school, I saw a demonstration and thought it might be worth the investment to keep Kenna occupied for a few minutes. So I went to the store and made the purchase. It was a bit of a splurge, but to my surprise, she is more engrossed than I ever would've imagined. The cost of investment: $3.32. The item: Lima beans. The payoff: priceless.

I simply dumped these dried beans into a bowl, gave her a few measuring cups and she spends several minutes to an hour a day pouring them out, filling up cups and running her fingers through them. So as for that b-day list: dried peas, kidney beans, pintos...and maybe a few new measuring cups if I am feeling really generous.

Roller Coaster

2010-09-14T17:56:00.000-04:00

I used to like roller coasters. Now they give me headaches. I no longer see the point in paying an exorbitant price to feel my stomach turn to knots, while waiting in an endless line, fearfully anticipating whether or not my lunch will stay in place. I prefer something less stressful and more relaxing. Perhaps that’s because everyday life with toddlers is a constant roller coaster of activity and emotions. But what I discovered today is that sometimes the ride can bring complete surprise and joy.

After lunch today, I was having yet another “conversation” with Jonas about the importance of washing one’s hands after using the bathroom. We have had this “conversation” on several occasions (including multiple times just today) and his failure to retain and apply the directive was causing my mom-voice to reach heightened volume. In the midst of the brewing storm, Kenna asked to sit on the potty. Okay, sure, whatever. She likes to imitate her big brother. While I appreciate her eagerness, her past attempts have ended as just that…attempts. But, I placed her on the potty and sat down on the tub to do some exhaling and inhaling.

Kenna sat there for several minutes before she announced she was finally done. “Kenna poop!” she exclaimed. I’ve heard that one before. I half-heartedly praised her for sitting there and trying. As I lifted her up, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There in the potty was much more than just an attempt. In that moment of triumph and emphatic praise, my mood shifted from the valley of frustration and soared to the peak of joy and excitement.

Who knows what this success means for Kenna’s journey to wearing big girl underwear. But for me, the timing couldn’t have been better. She gave me the boost I needed on the thrill ride of toddlerhood.

Sunrises

2010-09-09T10:51:00.001-04:00

Jonas’ first day of school was yesterday. I’m having a much harder time with it than I thought I would. I did my best to prepare myself for the big event, but those preparations seem to have failed me. My hesitations have nothing to do with sending my eldest into the real world to learn from outside influences. Instead it has everything to do with the complete destruction of my daily schedule.

I am not a morning person and thankfully both kids quickly adapted to late morning rises. Before school entered the picture, our typical morning began sometime around 9 or 9:30 a.m. with breakfast occurring around 10 a.m. each day. We had a nice, slow start to the day. And I quite enjoyed that. Of course, I was typically up earlier, enjoying some time to myself and getting work done before the little ones awoke. But now that precious post-sunrise start is a thing of the past.

Jonas on the other hand is adjusting just fine. As I rubbed sleep from my eyes and contemplated a caffeine IV, Jonas jumped out of bed with a giggle. He exuded excitement for the day ahead. His energy further exhausted me.

Hopefully I’ll get the hang of this new schedule within the next few days. If not, maybe I should start a countdown to summer break…and the return to my preferred timetable. After all, I’ve always favored sunsets to sunrises.

Velcro

2010-08-31T16:12:00.000-04:00

I suppose you could describe my parenting style as attachment. We co-slept, nursed for the first year, used baby carriers, etc. It wasn't as if we totally subscribed to a particular philosophy. We observed what others did, read a lot and in the end did what we felt was right. As a result, I have a 1- and 3-year-old who want to be close to me...all the time. Don't get me wrong; both are secure and independent (to varying degrees) and I appreciate the bond we have. But sometimes their desire for frequent closeness wears me out.

I was just explaining to my husband how both kids were playing quietly and entertaining themselves, so I had the bright idea to run upstairs and get a few minutes of reading done. Wouldn't you know that I barely sat down before Jonas started calling for me. And then Kenna followed suit. My husband said it's because they like being close and that I should be thankful since he has to work for that same closeness.

I know this phase will pass and I will probably long for these days of affection. But at the moment, 5 minutes of uninterrupted reading would be blissful. And don't even get me started on a childfree bathroom trip.

Y

2010-08-25T16:29:00.000-04:00

I am not a fan of guns. While I appreciate the Second Amendment, I choose not to bear arms. And I had hoped to choose the same for our kids. I prefer they play with trains, balls, books, cars and even dolls…anything but guns. Even though we don’t have one in the house, Jonas has begun making his own. He’ll fashion one out of Lincoln logs, his hand, a piece of paper or whatever else is available to him. We haven’t shown him how to craft, aim and shoot them. It is somehow intuitive. Which leaves me wondering: was he born with a gun gene?

I am at a loss for exactly how to handle the situation. So far I have let him enjoy his creativity, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. We have a rule that he can’t aim at any person or animal, but then I wonder how we will explain water guns. Isn’t that the whole point of them?

My brother and I were not allowed to have guns growing up. I am forever grateful for that. I am certain I wouldn’t have survived childhood if my parents allowed my brother to wield a bb gun. After all, he was bent on teaching me that life isn’t fair. I can only imagine how he would’ve made his point with a gun in hand. Even so, squirt guns were the exception to the rule. I remember the joy of chasing one another around the yard on a hot day, attempting to soak (or at least sprinkle in the pre-super soaker days of the 80s) each other. I am sure our kids will do likewise at some point, but how can I permit those and not others?

I am not opening the door to allowing guns into our house at this point. I know if I do that he will be sure to receive an arsenal at his next birthday. So for now, I suppose we will let him fashion his own and leave it at that. I will continue to stick to my guns…ahem…convictions.

As for the genetics question, now that I think about it the Y chromosome does resemble a gun...in a Picasso sort of way.

Swirling

2010-08-18T17:16:00.001-04:00

Typically I write a post after a time of reflection and a bit of distance. Right now I’m writing it from the epicenter. My mind is swirling with so many tasks and distractions that I feel a perma-fog has set in and is greatly hindering my ability to focus. Sure I could wait for this moment to pass and probably compose a better-constructed post. But if I want to define motherhood, how can I ignore this maelstrom I find myself in the midst of?

What has brought me to this place (other than doing life with two toddlers)? Let’s see: work deadlines, emails to be sent, contacts to be made, laundry to be folded, kids waking up cranky from their naps, possible dinner menu ideas, plans for upcoming trip, floors to be vacuumed, dogs to be washed…. The list goes on. But what was the tipping point? Realizing that a bill had been overlooked and was yet to be paid. That never happened in the pre-kid days of yesteryear.

With so much on my mind, I can barely settle my brain long enough to focus on any one thing. Suddenly I feel my life has become a swirling mass of multi-tasking craziness, leaving me wishing for long periods of undivided attention and wondering how more bills have not been lost in the shuffle.

Daddy’s Girl

2010-08-10T17:19:00.004-04:00

One of Matt’s biggest fears is coming true. When the ultrasound tech said the word, “It’s a girl,” we both struggled with what realities lay ahead. For me, it meant more of dealing with possible princess obsessions and cheerleading aspirations. For Matt, it was a concern of being wrapped tightly around the little finger of his precious girl. And that is precisely where he has found himself as of recent.

Kenna has started using two- and three-word sentences. One of those first sentences shot right into Matt’s heart and melted it in an instant. A few evenings ago, he was lying on the floor when Kenna walked over to him, crawled on top, gave him a great big hug and said, “Daddy, home,” as she placed her head upon his chest and lay there for a few minutes. She then got up and went about her business, having no idea what affect she had on her dad…or so we think.

Perhaps this is a sign of things to come. Perhaps she will charm boys throughout her life (one of Matt’s greater fears). But to me it was her way of cementing her position in our family, as if to say, “How could you have ever doubted having a little girl?”

My Leeches

2010-08-04T08:13:00.006-04:00

This being World Breastfeeding Week has gotten me thinking of my own experience. Before having kids I remember thinking how odd the whole nursing thing was. It was like allowing a little leech to latch on and feed. In a sense, I suppose that's just what babies are designed to do. But when I became a mom, my perspective changed. I didn't view them as leeches at all. They were cute little bundles in need of sustenance that only I could provide. And I provided a lot of it (as can be seen from the pictures of my exclusively-nursed, well-fed chunks).

When it came down to making the breast versus bottle decision, I put away my previous notions and decided to give it a try. Turns out both of mine were good nursers who were committed for the long haul. We delayed solids for both until they were 10 months old (well beyond the recommended 4 to 6 months). Our doctor figured they were thriving well enough that we had no need for solids too early. We agreed. After all, it saved us plenty of money (other than our increased grocery bill to satisfy my ravenous appetite).

I spent 2.5 of the last 3.5 years nursing a child. It meant plenty of late night feedings, frustrations, latching difficulties, uncertainties over intake and time spent just sitting and waiting...not to mention the foregone vacations and escapes since both children refused a bottle. It was a crazy 2.5 years. In all honesty, I felt confined and tied down at times, and I will admit that I am happy it's over. But I wouldn't change it for anything. I have two healthy toddlers and a deep bond with both that I know was strengthened from those countless hours spent in the recliner, nourishing and sustaining them.

And as with any life stage, it quickly passed. Now we are on to new discoveries and milestones. Gone are the moments of snuggling up together in the recliner or cuddling them close in bed during mealtime. While I did have to sacrifice a date night or two, I’m glad I have those memories to look back on and a sense of accomplishment in dedicating myself to them in such a way.

Green Beans

2010-07-29T15:55:00.000-04:00

I hated green beans as a kid. I hated the color, taste, smell, fuzziness, planting, weeding, picking, snapping, canning, eating and casseroling. There was nothing I liked about these long, thin annoyances. To this day, I have nightmares of being forced to eat green bean casserole. I swore that once I became an adult, I would never subject myself to consuming such an abhorrent vegetable again. Not only that, but I would not waste my time with planting, weeding, worrying over and harvesting a garden full of such items. What was the point when a store existed with foods cleared of dirt and hard work that are all ready for consumption?

So last night as we sat down to dinner, the irony of our meal struck me. I had prepared fresh green beans and lettuce just plucked from the garden. I even seasoned the beans with ham from the hog our family had purchased-not meat taken from the grocery store cooler. Clearly I have come a long way from dreading the backyard bean patch. Now, I'm not saying that I'm going to call Mom this afternoon and get her casserole recipe, but maybe, just maybe there is hope for my persnickety eater. Maybe the flavor and texture seem more revolting than appetizing to Jonas and perhaps he doesn't yet appreciate the non-processed harvest. But maybe, just maybe there will come a day when he will proudly partake of fresh greens and actually enjoy them.

10 Lessons

2010-07-20T16:21:00.006-04:00

The experiences of motherhood can leave you laughing, crying, exhausted and exhilarated all in the same moment. It is the most challenging role of our lives. Yet, if we listen carefully, we can learn great lessons. Here are 10 that I’ve learned along the way:

I can survive on less sleep than I ever thought imaginable.
Priorities will change. Just ask the cats. Wait, we still have cats, right?
We will be paid back for what we did to our parents. Sorry, Mom and Dad, for all those temper tantrums…and more.
Practical decisions will become the rule, not the exception. Otherwise minivans would not be marketable.
Bodily fluids will become so commonplace that you will actually discuss them over dinner with good friends.
Parenting was much more black-and-white before kids. After kids, previously held beliefs will be revisited and sometimes reversed.
In discovering who your children are, it is easy to lose site of yourself.
Some moments will be mundane and downright tough. But hang on because the next one could make your heart melt.
Relationships will change. Some will deepen. Some will dwindle. But having a support system is a necessity.
You will love more deeply and completely than you ever thought possible.

Benefits Package

2010-07-13T17:35:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed and seemed intent on bringing down everyone else. Unfortunately that person was me. As much as I wish I could say my three-year-old was the one with the foul mood, I know it originated from me. Even before breakfast, I realized I was having a horrible case of the Mondays. I knew it was my choice to wallow in my mood or choose to change my attitude. I wish I could say I chose the latter. Instead, I longed for a nice benefits package that included last-minute personal days and a chance to escape.

But even as I longed for such an option, I became frustrated by the legwork that would be necessary to make that happen. Even if I did have a babysitter lying in wait, I would still have to make the arrangements, consider meal options and account for naptimes. All that prep work hardly makes it seem worthwhile. Nevertheless, I gathered my gumption and introduced myself to our neighbors’ babysitter. I’m sensing a personal day in the near future.

Village

2010-07-06T08:24:00.004-04:00

I recently watched the documentary “Killer at Large: Why Obesity is America's Greatest Threat.” It was frustrating to hear how obese we are as a nation and how this generation of kids is on track to have a shorter life span filled with more health issues than any previous generation. But beyond that, the movie has really gotten me thinking about parenting.

When Hillary Rodham Clinton made the statement “it takes a village to raise a child,” I didn't get it. Being over a decade from my entrée into parenthood, I scoffed. I thought parents were responsible for their own children. I mean a village? How out-dated is that? We are too advanced to rely on primitive tribal modes of child rearing.

But now I get it. I now know how exhausting being a parent is and how grateful I am when someone is there to have my back and help me rear my children. I cannot express how much it means to me when a friend steps in to correct my child, enforcing my discipline and helping him to understand he must answer to society as a whole, not just his mother who isn't always present to catch every thing.

And so I wonder: what would it be like for parents if we better worked as a village? What if we backed each other up more often? What if Madison Avenue also sent messages to our children that better supported our efforts—eat more fruits and try the green beans? What if school lunches better resembled the balanced meals we attempt to serve at home? What if clothing companies made cute outfits that aren’t too “hoochie” in nature for girls, including my 1-year-old? What if politicians remembered their constituents and determined policy according to the future of this country instead of the future of a bottom line?

I know as the parent it is ultimately my responsibility to teach my children well and prepare them to be responsible citizens. But sometimes a little support from the village goes a long way.

Rainbows and Unicorns

2010-07-01T08:00:00.000-04:00

Is it bad to lie to your kids? Okay, maybe “lie” is too strong of a word. Perhaps “withhold the entire truth” is more appropriate. Of course I know you shouldn’t lie to your kids. Shoot, I even question the whole tooth fairy thing because, really, isn’t that all a big hoax? But I digress….

The other night we were driving down the road and we saw a semi pulling a load of hogs. I pointed it out to the kids. Jonas thought it was pretty cool to see pigs going down the road. Then his quizzical little mind sprung into action. “Where are they going?” he asked. In that moment, I had a choice: to explain the harsh reality of how pork chops end up on his dinner plate or to divert. I chose the latter. “Where do you think they might be going?” He thought for a second and then happily (and innocently) answered, “To the farm, so they can play.”

I liked his answer. For all I know he could’ve been right. Perhaps my pessimism was blinding what could’ve been the truth. But let’s face it; semis don’t typically truck loads of fattened pigs for a weekend holiday in greener pastures. I wondered if I should explain to him the process and educate him on how the food chain works, but instead, I avoided the teachable moment. Rather than risk frightening him, I chose to fill his mind with happy thoughts—more along the lines of rainbows and unicorns than slaughterhouse.

Honestly though, if I would’ve told him their inevitable destination, he probably would’ve asked another question or two, and then gotten distracted and on to another topic. To his three-year-old mind, it would’ve been another fact…one devoid of the harsh reality and gruesome details behind it. So in the end, was I really trying to comfort and shield him? No. I suppose I was the one wanting some rainbows and unicorns…and happy thoughts of pigs frolicking through the pasture.

Stormy with a Chance of Storms

2010-06-24T15:25:00.000-04:00

Our nights have been a bit stormy lately and it has nothing to do with the inclement outside weather we’ve been experiencing. For the past couple of weeks, Jonas has been waking at night. It began with nightmares that we attributed to a couple of scary Thomas episodes. We nixed those, but still the dreams persisted. But the wakings reached their peek a couple of nights ago when he woke screaming four times between 1:00 and 3:30 a.m. Let’s just say that we became less than understanding as the night continued.

In the morning we realized that dreams weren’t the only culprit. The poor guy woke up with a croupy cough and raspy breathing. Thankfully it mostly cleared up after breakfast. A trip to the doctor confirmed that nothing serious was going on. He acted like himself for the remainder of the day, but when nighttime came, so did the screaming.

So for the last couple of nights, we’ve been woken to his cries. We have tried to take a calmer, more nurturing approach, attempting to keep frustration at bay. With each rude awakening, we let out a sigh and decide who has to drag their weary body down the hall to comfort him. Come morning, he is full of energy and we are pleading for a nap.

It is hard to believe that just last year, Kenna was waking us multiple times in the night. Did we complain? Well, perhaps a bit, but we expected it. We dealt with it. We moved on. Now, we are pleading for a full night’s sleep—no interruptions, just deep, solid slumber. When will it happen? Tonight? Tomorrow? Next week? If only these storms could be forecasted in the same manner as the weather. Then we’d know where to set our expectations and whether or not to brew another pot of coffee.

Eight Blessed Hours

2010-06-17T14:39:00.000-04:00

A few days ago I had 8 full hours to myself. How did I spend it? At a marketing seminar. Sure that may not sound thrilling, but I have to admit that I very much enjoyed it. And it wasn't because of the subject matter (though it was interesting and useful). It was because I got to focus on one thing for 8 hours straight. With no interruptions. No diaper changes. No temper tantrums. No one vying for my attention.

Don't get me wrong; I am grateful for the opportunity to stay home with my kids, but a nice break every once in while is welcome. That break doesn’t need to be a movie out or an indulgent pedicure. It just needs to be time when I can breathe in and out, in and out, repeatedly.

During those hours of focus, I realized just how scattered I have been feeling lately—pulled in multiple directions at once. Every morning begins with making breakfast, while putting away the dishes as I hold the youngest and chat with the oldest. Even as I write this, I am pushing Kenna in the swing and monitoring Jonas' tennis lessons. It's no wonder my mind has been whirling, trying to make sense of task lists, remembering to pay the bills, let the dog out, meet that work deadline and build in sufficient play time with kiddos.

Even as all that continues to swirl through my mind, one thing has moved to the top of the list: scheduling another seminar a few months down the road. The subject matter? I really don't care.

Duck, Duck, Goose

2010-06-09T08:29:00.004-04:00

Jonas’ tennis journey began yesterday with his first pee wee lesson. With racket in hand he marched onto the court, then he sunk his head low and refused to participate. I suppose we should’ve guessed as much since Jonas always has been a shy guy and I’m not sure we adequately explained that someone else (not us) would be teaching him alongside other kids. Perhaps some preparation would’ve improved the outcome. Instead, as the other three toddlers emphatically shared their names and eagerly joined in all the games and exercises, Jonas put his hands in his shirt and clung to it like it was his security blanket.

Matt and I watched from the sidelines, laughing at first. Soon our laughter turned to frustration. At one point I made an attempt to have a chat with him, but that nearly backfired as he started begging me to hold him. We encouraged him from the sidelines, telling him that he could do it and it would be fun. Thankfully one of the instructors took to him as her special project. She soon realized that he had no interest in playing silly games, but instead he just wanted to play some actual tennis. Finally with racket in hand, he showed a bit of confidence and seemed to be having a decent time. But once the game of duck-duck-goose started, he once again retreated inside himself and began clinging to his shirt once more. It was as if his racket gave him the power to play, but once he was stripped of that, he lost all ability.

In the end, these lessons will be a good experience for Jonas, but in a different way than I had originally thought. They are no longer just about teaching him a sport, but more about having confidence, being more outgoing and participating in group activities. Watching our little one act so sheepishly, Matt began to question whether we need to get him more socialized amongst people he doesn’t know as well. I suppose it’s a valid point, but remembering how shy I was as a kid, I realized it is a phase and by encouraging him, he will grow to have confidence. While it was frustrating to see him so withdrawn, I’m not sure that how he plays duck-duck-goose at age three is really an indicator for his success later in life. If so, we have our work cut out for us.

Mes Amis

2010-06-03T16:26:00.000-04:00

Since his very first bath, Jonas has had issues with getting wet. We’ve spent countless hours acclimating him to the bathtub and pool. While he now does fine in both situations, he has yet to conquer sprinklers. I’m sure Freud would say this aversion to water stems from his traumatic entrance into the world and I might even be inclined to agree. But regardless of the cause, he especially doesn’t enjoy getting water on his face and definitely not in his eyes. So as the rain began to fall upon us last night, he wanted to make a mad-dash to the house. Instead, I encouraged him to first finish throwing the stale cereal and bread out for the birds and rabbits to eat. He reluctantly consented and as he flung the last bits over the fence, I assumed he’d make a run for it. Instead something caught his eye: the neighbor girl, Emma. Suddenly he ran towards her at full speed, calling her name and ignoring the water that dripped down his face.

I made my way back inside as he and Emma began to play together in the backyard. His excitement to spend time with her trumped any weather conditions. They played together for a half an hour or so as the rain fell. Seeing him cast aside his discomfort, made me realize just how important good friends are.

A few days prior, we had packed up the van and had driven three hours so the four of us could share a cramped room, get little sleep and risk temper trantrums. Was it worth it? Definitely because we got to spend three days with our best friends. Sure the bed was a bit too bouncy, the kids woke up too early, and we had to endure some whining and crying along the way, but when it comes to having the opportunity to spend time with good friends, it’s worth letting the rain wash over your face and maybe even get in your eyes a bit.