I was sitting in the living room today, reading and glancing up at Olivia as she was dancing around the living room. She was wearing her costume from her recital and twirling, jumping, and laughing. She was stunning and silly, sweet and innocent in that way that only children (especially young children) can be.
She put her arms down and trotted around the corner-and suddenly I had a vision into the future. In my vision, I was myself, only in the future. I was reading another book and I looked up, and my adult daughter came dancing around the corner, wearing a wedding dress. I heard Olivia's voice saying "Mommy, don't I look pretty?" and was brought back to present time.
I started crying. No, not crying. Sobbing! I was a mess! Instantly, my very sensitive and sweet daughter came running over and gave me a hug. I hugged her back and she said "You have to let me go now." "I know." I said. I choked back my sobs and smiled at her. "I am very proud of you," I said. "I'm proud of you, too," said Olivia as she smiled up at me.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Today I put on my Cranky Pants
Today is a rough day. Today I put on my cranky pants without even realizing it.
When you're a mom, you don't really get cranky days. When you're a kid, you can have a day where you are grouchy and frown and scowl all day long and everyone tells you to change your attitude and maybe you get sent to your room...but that's it. When you're a mom (especially when you're a stay at home mom) the cranky pants day is not really something you get to take advantage of.
As the mom of the house, I generally need to be on my toes, keeping an eye on the day's schedule, working on my tasks and trying to find a few minutes to de-compress during nap time. Today, though, after our really kick-butt Kenpo X workout, I was in the shower and suddenly I was full of rage. Everything I thought of made me spin off in a "Sneaky Hate Spiral"(If you haven't read it-I highly encourage a thorough perusal of www.hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com ). This is dangerous. Not only was my husband quickly going to expect some sort of polite conversation as he got ready for his shower-at this point I was so full of ridiculous, impotent rage that when he entered the bathroom he was barraged by a spastic, psychotic rant of verbal diarrhea. It was bad. He is a true champion, though, and as I finished my rant he smiled at me and said "Perfectly reasonable. I love you!"
After lunch, and after he left for work, I put my youngest daughter down to nap and started an afternoon movie for my oldest daughter so that I could do the dishes, clean up and take a few minutes to stew.
Boy, did I ever stew. I called a friend and stewed in my grouchiness, I sat in my chair and stewed, I even laid on the couch, crossed my arms, and pouted...and didn't feel any better. That made me even more grouchy! I refused to get off the couch until I got some sort of confirmation from the universe that I was justified in my grouchiness. Then I really made it official-I posted it in my status on Facebook. There. Now everyone would know that I was grouchy and rush to make me feel better. But no one did. So I did. I commented on my own status "C'mon, me, turn that frown upside down!" Then I laughed at myself.
Now, I've changed out of my cranky pants and back into my happy, normal pants-and I'm ready to tackle my biggest hurdle of the day-GROCERY SHOPPING AT SAM'S WITH TWO CHILDREN IN TOW!!!
No pouting allowed.
When you're a mom, you don't really get cranky days. When you're a kid, you can have a day where you are grouchy and frown and scowl all day long and everyone tells you to change your attitude and maybe you get sent to your room...but that's it. When you're a mom (especially when you're a stay at home mom) the cranky pants day is not really something you get to take advantage of.
As the mom of the house, I generally need to be on my toes, keeping an eye on the day's schedule, working on my tasks and trying to find a few minutes to de-compress during nap time. Today, though, after our really kick-butt Kenpo X workout, I was in the shower and suddenly I was full of rage. Everything I thought of made me spin off in a "Sneaky Hate Spiral"(If you haven't read it-I highly encourage a thorough perusal of www.hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com ). This is dangerous. Not only was my husband quickly going to expect some sort of polite conversation as he got ready for his shower-at this point I was so full of ridiculous, impotent rage that when he entered the bathroom he was barraged by a spastic, psychotic rant of verbal diarrhea. It was bad. He is a true champion, though, and as I finished my rant he smiled at me and said "Perfectly reasonable. I love you!"
After lunch, and after he left for work, I put my youngest daughter down to nap and started an afternoon movie for my oldest daughter so that I could do the dishes, clean up and take a few minutes to stew.
Boy, did I ever stew. I called a friend and stewed in my grouchiness, I sat in my chair and stewed, I even laid on the couch, crossed my arms, and pouted...and didn't feel any better. That made me even more grouchy! I refused to get off the couch until I got some sort of confirmation from the universe that I was justified in my grouchiness. Then I really made it official-I posted it in my status on Facebook. There. Now everyone would know that I was grouchy and rush to make me feel better. But no one did. So I did. I commented on my own status "C'mon, me, turn that frown upside down!" Then I laughed at myself.
Now, I've changed out of my cranky pants and back into my happy, normal pants-and I'm ready to tackle my biggest hurdle of the day-GROCERY SHOPPING AT SAM'S WITH TWO CHILDREN IN TOW!!!
No pouting allowed.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Learning from the Children
My daughters are tightly coiled balls of ever increasing energy. My eldest daughter does not just get out of bed in the morning (or stumble, flailing until I find my glasses, swearing at the sun for rising, my dog for getting in my way, the coffee for not already being made, etc.). No. She wakes up in the morning, leaps to the end of her bed, jumps from her bed to the floor, and skips...skips! down stairs. She skips every where. She skips all day long. She skips to the bathroom, she skips to the kitchen to get a yogurt, she skips or runs but hardly ever walks.
My husband and I were discussing this the other day. We noticed that her first choice is to always skip between tasks. We both watched her skip into the bathroom and as she left the room, we were both smiling and laughing. Watching her skipping brought us joy! We both remarked that we wished that our first thought was to always skip-instead of plodding along as it seems some days.
Our youngest does not just wake up, either. If, by chance, we have to wake her up she doesn't roll over and groggily greet us with a smile. She lies on her stomach, flapping and clapping and slapping her feet and hands on her mattress until she springs up, grabs onto the bars of her crib, and jumps up and down. This whole sequence takes about 5 seconds. She is ready for action as soon as her eyes open. She is full of joy and thrilled to greet the day.
Both of my daughters are excited to get on with the next thing, but they are also so happy to be in that moment that they make us happy to be a part of that moment. They have helped us to find joy in mundane moments and, quite often, cause us to stop, take a look around, and be happy for simple moments.
I'm not going to pretend that I can alter my bad attitude upon waking up. I don't know if I am willing to work on that part of me when there are so many other facets of me that need work (such as the part of me that follows through with things, the part of me that cleans the bathroom more often, or the part of me that can focus on things for more than 10 minutes). However, I am willing to take a little more time and be thankful for small moments of joy and peace and be looking for opportunities to recognize those two things. Hopefully, in the future, my daughters will remember me as a fun mom whose moments of joy outnumbered the moments of grouchy, flailing anger.
My husband and I were discussing this the other day. We noticed that her first choice is to always skip between tasks. We both watched her skip into the bathroom and as she left the room, we were both smiling and laughing. Watching her skipping brought us joy! We both remarked that we wished that our first thought was to always skip-instead of plodding along as it seems some days.
Our youngest does not just wake up, either. If, by chance, we have to wake her up she doesn't roll over and groggily greet us with a smile. She lies on her stomach, flapping and clapping and slapping her feet and hands on her mattress until she springs up, grabs onto the bars of her crib, and jumps up and down. This whole sequence takes about 5 seconds. She is ready for action as soon as her eyes open. She is full of joy and thrilled to greet the day.
Both of my daughters are excited to get on with the next thing, but they are also so happy to be in that moment that they make us happy to be a part of that moment. They have helped us to find joy in mundane moments and, quite often, cause us to stop, take a look around, and be happy for simple moments.
I'm not going to pretend that I can alter my bad attitude upon waking up. I don't know if I am willing to work on that part of me when there are so many other facets of me that need work (such as the part of me that follows through with things, the part of me that cleans the bathroom more often, or the part of me that can focus on things for more than 10 minutes). However, I am willing to take a little more time and be thankful for small moments of joy and peace and be looking for opportunities to recognize those two things. Hopefully, in the future, my daughters will remember me as a fun mom whose moments of joy outnumbered the moments of grouchy, flailing anger.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Lady Gaga Vs. Hannah Montana
My daughter (who is 4) loves both Hannah Montana and Lady Gaga. When I say loves, I mean LOVES them. She has never watched the show, Hannah Montana but has heard some of Miley Cyrus' songs and tries to dress the way she thinks Hannah Montana would dress. She also loves Lady Gaga. Especially Bad Romance.
One day, I turned on some music on Pandora Radio (maybe the best thing ever invented for people who love music) and Olivia started dancing around the living room, stripping down to her skivvies! I couldn't believe it. I got a vision of the future-and it looked pretty terrifying. However, she loves listening to Lady Gaga and even asks me to turn on "The Gaga Lady" when we're in the car. I generally do, too, because I love Lady Gaga too (but it doesn't inspire me to strip down whenever the music comes on)
On the other hand, she loves Hannah Montana, too. One day she asked me to turn on a Hannah Montana song and I reacted with such vehemence that it surprised me. I had to ask myself, what is going on with me? If you listen to the lyrics, one is not much worse than the other. So why do I dislike one so much and enjoy the other?
Could it be simply because Miley Cyrus is a teenager and I am an adult? I can't think of what else it could be. When I think about it, I don't want Olivia watching Hannah Montana because some of the language is a little salty for a four-year-old (they say "stupid" a lot) and because I don't think that she would be able to understand the context of the sarcasm. So, that's not an issue. She would be fine with just listening to the music.
Lady Gaga, on the other hand, is far less appropriate for a four-year-old to be listening to. The lyrics are more explicit and the themes are more adult because the music is geared to adults. I tell myself that it is really okay that Olivia walks around singing Bad Romance because she doesn't understand what she's singing...but is that really okay? I think so. I have fond memories of singing The Sweetest Taboo in Kindergarten for Show and Tell. While I think my teacher may have been shocked, everyone agreed that it was the best performance of The Sweetest Taboo that they had heard from a 5 year old. (Okay, I may have made the last part up). I just know that when I was up in front of my class with my Fisher Price Moraccas, singing to the tape my mom had made, I loved that song and I loved singing it. I had no idea what I was singing about. I also turned out to be a pretty good person, and still love music.
So, from now on, I'm going to try to keep my prejudices to myself, let her occasionally listen to Hannah Montana, and hope that she doesn't have any idea what we're singing about for a long time.
One day, I turned on some music on Pandora Radio (maybe the best thing ever invented for people who love music) and Olivia started dancing around the living room, stripping down to her skivvies! I couldn't believe it. I got a vision of the future-and it looked pretty terrifying. However, she loves listening to Lady Gaga and even asks me to turn on "The Gaga Lady" when we're in the car. I generally do, too, because I love Lady Gaga too (but it doesn't inspire me to strip down whenever the music comes on)
On the other hand, she loves Hannah Montana, too. One day she asked me to turn on a Hannah Montana song and I reacted with such vehemence that it surprised me. I had to ask myself, what is going on with me? If you listen to the lyrics, one is not much worse than the other. So why do I dislike one so much and enjoy the other?
Could it be simply because Miley Cyrus is a teenager and I am an adult? I can't think of what else it could be. When I think about it, I don't want Olivia watching Hannah Montana because some of the language is a little salty for a four-year-old (they say "stupid" a lot) and because I don't think that she would be able to understand the context of the sarcasm. So, that's not an issue. She would be fine with just listening to the music.
Lady Gaga, on the other hand, is far less appropriate for a four-year-old to be listening to. The lyrics are more explicit and the themes are more adult because the music is geared to adults. I tell myself that it is really okay that Olivia walks around singing Bad Romance because she doesn't understand what she's singing...but is that really okay? I think so. I have fond memories of singing The Sweetest Taboo in Kindergarten for Show and Tell. While I think my teacher may have been shocked, everyone agreed that it was the best performance of The Sweetest Taboo that they had heard from a 5 year old. (Okay, I may have made the last part up). I just know that when I was up in front of my class with my Fisher Price Moraccas, singing to the tape my mom had made, I loved that song and I loved singing it. I had no idea what I was singing about. I also turned out to be a pretty good person, and still love music.
So, from now on, I'm going to try to keep my prejudices to myself, let her occasionally listen to Hannah Montana, and hope that she doesn't have any idea what we're singing about for a long time.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Confirmation-We have done a few things right so far!
My eldest daughter had Kindergarten Screening this morning, and, for some reason, I was nervous. I had visions of us going in with high hopes and seeing them asking her to point to her nose as she pointed to her toes or stack the red, yellow and green blocks and she would throw them at the teacher's head or something. I was hoping that these things wouldn't happen, but, hey, you never know!
Now these are not the usual behaviors for my daughter. There is absolutely no reason that I should be afraid that she wouldn't pass the screening. She has attended pre-school for the past two years and has always passed her developmental milestones early or right on time. I don't know why I was so nervous about this screening but the good news is that she was within normal ranges for all of the screening areas and she passed!
Now the hard part begins. Now I know that I have to start making preparations to let her go for the first time. Now I have to begin to prepare myself for Kindergarten and have to be willing to let her turn into a school age child.
I know that some of this will happen naturally, but I have to work on a few things so that she won't be scared to go to Kindergarten. Here they are:
To Kindergarten, and Beyond!
Now these are not the usual behaviors for my daughter. There is absolutely no reason that I should be afraid that she wouldn't pass the screening. She has attended pre-school for the past two years and has always passed her developmental milestones early or right on time. I don't know why I was so nervous about this screening but the good news is that she was within normal ranges for all of the screening areas and she passed!
Now the hard part begins. Now I know that I have to start making preparations to let her go for the first time. Now I have to begin to prepare myself for Kindergarten and have to be willing to let her turn into a school age child.
I know that some of this will happen naturally, but I have to work on a few things so that she won't be scared to go to Kindergarten. Here they are:
- I have to stop crying every time I think of her going to school every day, all day long.
- I have to face the reality that it is going to happen. Not only is it going to happen, but once it does, I'm going to love it!
- I have to stop saying "I can't talk about it" whenever someone asks me about her new journey into Elementary school.
- I must find something for Maya to do when Olivia is at school. As it is now, when ever she can't find her older sister, she wanders around the house looking in every nook and cranny and whining her approximation of Olivia. She is going to be b-o-r-e-d, I fear.
To Kindergarten, and Beyond!
Friday, May 7, 2010
Some thoughts for Mothers Day
I love my children. I love the way my eldest daughter laughs when you tickle her stomach, the way she insists on "scripted" play, the way she is creative and imaginative and funny. I love my youngest daughter and the wonder and joy she shows when she looks through tupperware lids or bends down and looks at me upside down through her legs.
I know that everyone says it, but I have to say it again. I did not realize how being a mother would completely change my life. I never thought that a hug or a kiss or a simple "I love you" could change the course of my day. I love holding their little hands, watching them learn to write or read, and even teaching them to say words like "poopy" (Maya's new favorite-we're potty training).
Sometimes I have to take time to think about these small miracles because being a mom can be very overwhelming. Being a mom is the ultimate immersion experience. It is really the only thing in your life that you think you are prepared for but suddenly, all of your preconcieved notions of what this experience will be like for you were way off base. Something as simple as giving your baby that first bath can become a completely terrifying thing for you. It was for me.
Before the birth of my first child, I imagined her birth story to be like something from a fairy tale. I would go into labor, she would come flying out into the world with a rainbow and doves and a smile on her face and a coy little chuckle. I thought that the doctor would hand her to me and I would have that infusion of motherly wisdom and love that all mothers have.
Instead, I had a c-section because she was frank breech (which means she came out butt first-mooning the world) and when the doctor held her up for me to see I thought, "Oh, she's so beautiful...Oh shit...I have to take that home with me now! This is REAL!" It was real. It was the beginning of the most intense love that anyone can ever feel. It was hard, too. It still is hard. However, even my worst days as a mom are better than my best days before my children. And no, I never got the motherly wisdom infusion. That happens over time as a result of experience, that's my guess.
After Olivia was born, the nurse came in to discharge me and asked me if I had any questions. I practically screamed at her "I don't know how to give her a bath! What do I do about that umbilical cord thing? What do I do if she won't nurse at home?" and in my head I was thinking "How am I supposed to teach her right from wrong and how to be a good person? What am I supposed to tell her about God and Religion when I don't even know what I believe? What if she doesn't like broccoli or turns out to be a sociopath?" The nurse kindly helped me bathe my baby and reassured me that we could do this. My mom and my friends had to do the same thing over the next few weeks.
Luckily, it's been almost 5 years now since that day, and Olivia is starting Kindergarten in September. I still wrestle with those questions. We try to show Olivia that actions have consequenses, both good and bad, and that she has an effect on the world. We encourage her to think critically and to relax and have fun. We try to be good examples of patience and kindness and are not afraid to admit to our mistakes. Hopefully, when she really needs them, these qualities will be easy to draw on.
Having a second child was different than the first in many ways. I found it harder to allow myself to bond with Maya in some ways because I was afraid that I would lose my bond with Olivia. I think that I also thought that I wasn't bonding as well because I wasn't as terrified that I was going to accidentally kill Maya. (When Olivia was an infant I was continually poking her when she was sleeping to make sure she was really still alive. I was very paranoid! I think I only did that once to Maya.) I had a better idea of the resilience of babies and knew what I was capable of. I was more relaxed and have really been able to enjoy her baby-hood. I think that this shows up in her personality, too, as she is more of a risk taker than Olivia was at that age, and she is more of a tester, too. She is a really delightful toddler and has a smile that could melt a glacier.
I'm not sure how to end this post, but I think I'll finish by saying that motherhood has challenged me and is continuing to help me to grow and become the person that I have wanted to be.
I know that everyone says it, but I have to say it again. I did not realize how being a mother would completely change my life. I never thought that a hug or a kiss or a simple "I love you" could change the course of my day. I love holding their little hands, watching them learn to write or read, and even teaching them to say words like "poopy" (Maya's new favorite-we're potty training).
Sometimes I have to take time to think about these small miracles because being a mom can be very overwhelming. Being a mom is the ultimate immersion experience. It is really the only thing in your life that you think you are prepared for but suddenly, all of your preconcieved notions of what this experience will be like for you were way off base. Something as simple as giving your baby that first bath can become a completely terrifying thing for you. It was for me.
Before the birth of my first child, I imagined her birth story to be like something from a fairy tale. I would go into labor, she would come flying out into the world with a rainbow and doves and a smile on her face and a coy little chuckle. I thought that the doctor would hand her to me and I would have that infusion of motherly wisdom and love that all mothers have.
Instead, I had a c-section because she was frank breech (which means she came out butt first-mooning the world) and when the doctor held her up for me to see I thought, "Oh, she's so beautiful...Oh shit...I have to take that home with me now! This is REAL!" It was real. It was the beginning of the most intense love that anyone can ever feel. It was hard, too. It still is hard. However, even my worst days as a mom are better than my best days before my children. And no, I never got the motherly wisdom infusion. That happens over time as a result of experience, that's my guess.
After Olivia was born, the nurse came in to discharge me and asked me if I had any questions. I practically screamed at her "I don't know how to give her a bath! What do I do about that umbilical cord thing? What do I do if she won't nurse at home?" and in my head I was thinking "How am I supposed to teach her right from wrong and how to be a good person? What am I supposed to tell her about God and Religion when I don't even know what I believe? What if she doesn't like broccoli or turns out to be a sociopath?" The nurse kindly helped me bathe my baby and reassured me that we could do this. My mom and my friends had to do the same thing over the next few weeks.
Luckily, it's been almost 5 years now since that day, and Olivia is starting Kindergarten in September. I still wrestle with those questions. We try to show Olivia that actions have consequenses, both good and bad, and that she has an effect on the world. We encourage her to think critically and to relax and have fun. We try to be good examples of patience and kindness and are not afraid to admit to our mistakes. Hopefully, when she really needs them, these qualities will be easy to draw on.
Having a second child was different than the first in many ways. I found it harder to allow myself to bond with Maya in some ways because I was afraid that I would lose my bond with Olivia. I think that I also thought that I wasn't bonding as well because I wasn't as terrified that I was going to accidentally kill Maya. (When Olivia was an infant I was continually poking her when she was sleeping to make sure she was really still alive. I was very paranoid! I think I only did that once to Maya.) I had a better idea of the resilience of babies and knew what I was capable of. I was more relaxed and have really been able to enjoy her baby-hood. I think that this shows up in her personality, too, as she is more of a risk taker than Olivia was at that age, and she is more of a tester, too. She is a really delightful toddler and has a smile that could melt a glacier.
I'm not sure how to end this post, but I think I'll finish by saying that motherhood has challenged me and is continuing to help me to grow and become the person that I have wanted to be.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Working Out with a Goal
We've been working out lately, using P90X as a way to get fit. We absolutely love it and I am finally in my second brand of size 10 Jeans!! (I have a theory that you aren't really a certain size unless you can fit into more than one brand of that size...) I have now gone from a 16 to a 10 in about 3 1/2 months.
Today, after our Kenpo X (Karate) workout today, my husband and I were discussing a song that was on the radio. It was the kind of song that would play in the soundtrack of a movie as someone was training for a big fight (you would see the people, dripping with sweat, moving in perfect synchronicity in slow motion) and then the action would start. We would walk down the stairs in our house, primed for battle, and open the door to a hoard of zombies and then the butt-kicking would begin!
We have decided that we're really not in training to be fit, we're in combat training to be safe in the event of a zombie apocalypse. Now, to take that a bit further, my daughters have been in the room and have been doing their own 4 year old and 15 month-old versions of P90X, so I guess that they're in training too. So, when the Apocalypse happens, look us up. We will be a troupe of butt-kicking, zombie-ripping, ab crunching maniacs!
I realize now that this post makes no sense but when we were talking about this in the morning, it was hysterical! I'm going to publish this post, though, because I still think it's funny.
Today, after our Kenpo X (Karate) workout today, my husband and I were discussing a song that was on the radio. It was the kind of song that would play in the soundtrack of a movie as someone was training for a big fight (you would see the people, dripping with sweat, moving in perfect synchronicity in slow motion) and then the action would start. We would walk down the stairs in our house, primed for battle, and open the door to a hoard of zombies and then the butt-kicking would begin!
We have decided that we're really not in training to be fit, we're in combat training to be safe in the event of a zombie apocalypse. Now, to take that a bit further, my daughters have been in the room and have been doing their own 4 year old and 15 month-old versions of P90X, so I guess that they're in training too. So, when the Apocalypse happens, look us up. We will be a troupe of butt-kicking, zombie-ripping, ab crunching maniacs!
I realize now that this post makes no sense but when we were talking about this in the morning, it was hysterical! I'm going to publish this post, though, because I still think it's funny.
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