A Haunting Tale. 5 Reasons Why I'm A Ghost Haunting My Children

I have come to the realization that I am a ghost haunting my children.   There is an overwhelming amount of evidence to support this claim, and that is what I intend to do.  I think that you will find that you are also a ghost.

1.  My children often speak to me in general but cannot hear my replies, or,when I speak to them, they can't hear me at all.  I used to think that they were just ignoring me but now I think there is a semi-penetrable veil of time and space between us and they occasionally get glimpses of me or hear my voice  from a far.

2.  I often have to resort to making electronic devices disappear or not work at all, and, in extreme occasions, stomp around or slam doors, to get my point across or to get them to pay attention.  I realize that this is kind of a hack-y ghost trick-used in all of the movies, but sometimes it's all I've got!

3.  I occasionally turn up in pictures or video when not expected.  I'll be getting dressed or doing dishes or some other task and-boom- there I am!  I'm always a little shocked when I'm captured on film, so I must be some sort of mythical creature.

4.  Apparently I am a magical "finding" ghost since I'm the only being in the house who can find "ANYTHING."  When I am summoned with the words "Mommy, I can't find ________" I appear where I am needed, and TA-DAAAAA!  I find the socks, or toy, or whatever.

5.  I can do things all day long, a multitude of tasks, and the only thing that they notice is that I've moved something.  Suddenly it's a catastrophe- "Where is RAINBOW DASH???" I hear.  I spring into action.  I've been summoned!

Being a ghost can be difficult and challenging but I think you'll find that haunting your family can be quite rewarding.  If you haunt them long enough and do a satisfactory job, I'm told that you can even turn into a real person some day-some time after they turn 18.

Running To Me

I spend a lot of time thinking about who I am.  I suppose I have to, since I'm the only one who really cares.  My husband cares about me-but not my existential questions.  He cares if I'm happy and healthy and if our marriage is working. That's really all you can ask of another person. My kids care if I show them that I love them, make their food, get them to activities, and don't yell too much.  To them, I'm simply "mom" a construct that didn't really exist before them and they're not totally wrong.
When I became a mother, I became a different person.  It didn't happen at once and it has been a really confusing road, but somewhere along the way I became Kristen 2.0...or maybe 5.0 or more.  Who knows how many different incarnations I've really had and not noticed the changes over time, but this incarnation is a big, big change.

There are many parts of this "new" Kristen that I like, and probably the best part is that I finally really love and accept my body.  I love my big butt and curvy figure.  I really like my hair.  I even like my crooked, hooked witch nose.  I love my belly and thighs and my strong arms and legs. 
This is a big deal because I have always hated and shamed myself about my body.  I was skinny in high school because I didn't eat anything but rice, salads, and drink diet soda.  I was miserable in my own skin.  I was constantly belittling myself, comparing myself to others, and so disappointed that I could never get my skin that perfect shade of tan, that I had a different body shape than in the magazines, that  my boobs never looked right-you name it, I shamed it. 
That continued into college where I suddenly started gaining weight for no conceivable reason
(it turns out that I had a pretty serious thyroid issue) and after babies when I was constantly frustrated with my body-so much so that I started devoting hours per day to working out, planning my food intake, and became obsessed and disgusted with myself because after all of that work, I still wasn't where I needed to be.  Then I gained the weight back.
Now I was totally disgusted with myself
, angry that I had let myself down, etc.  Angry that I had lost control.  Ashamed that I was the fat mom, the fat friend, the fat wife.

Last summer, I had an epiphany.  This is my body.  This is the one that I was given and the only way that I can really be who I want to be is to accept me.  That means accepting the big butt, the curvy figure, my crooked nose, my soft belly, strong legs and arms, and work with them.  I found that the parts of me that I didn't like were not problems-in fact, once I started choosing clothes to really fit my body, my perception of what I looked like completely changed.  Suddenly I could look good, feel good, wear comfortable clothes (jeans that fit a butt in them!!!!  Thank you Lane Bryant!)

Finally, I decided to exercise because I enjoy the feeling of challenging my body, not because I am disgusted by it.  Read that again.  I decided to exercise because I enjoy the feeling of challenging my body, not because I am disgusted by it.  It's true!  There is a whole different kind of exuberance that you feel when you are taking an action to get a positive result.  I went running yesterday and it was fun!  I took a selfie and I was sweaty, puffy, tired but so happy.  As I was running I thought "Wow, my legs are really strong and so are my lungs."  You know what I didn't think?  I didn't think about how disgusting my body was or how I looked or how I needed to be better and fix this now or I was a failure. 

I am so happy to have become this new version of myself, this powerful, strong, me.  I am working on getting stronger because I love this body, not because I hate what I am.  I am a mom, I am strong, I am running toward my best self, not away from someone that I am ashamed of. 

HARK!!!

Holy Crap, has it ever been a rough week.  We have constantly been dealing with our sweet daughters turning into slobbering, angry, vengeful hell spawn-just antagonizing each other, fighting and causing me to turn into an evil harpy.
Finally, on the verge of a full on nervous breakdown, my husband suggested we talk about it and come up with a few words that we would like to exemplify our family.  We talked with the kids and they helped us choose the following four words:  Honesty, Accountability, Respect and Kindness.  Next, we decided to paint the words on canvases to hang in the living room.
Hopefully this will cut down on some of the fighting-if not, my next vacation might just be to a locked room with padded walls!

First, we painted our canvases with a background color and added a hand print to each one.

Next, we added our words.

We all added a little bit of "flair" to our canvas.

The finished product!

The Triumph and the Tragedy of Motherhood

Today was both a celebration and a gut punch.  Being a mother is so extremely rewarding but, as a part of the reward for doing your job, you are reminded that your job is to make your children independent, strong, and not need you-or, at least, not always need you.

First the triumph-because I'll pretend that I have had a lot to do with that.  My sweet, courageous daughters have been attending a cheering/tumbling camp this week, during school vacation.  They are taking chances and doing things they've been scared to do and today my youngest (6 years old) volunteered to be in a contest and performed jumps and cartwheels in front of the whole camp-all of whom are older kids than her.  That BLEW MY MIND.  My eldest was tirelessly working to improve-hit her back handspring, perfect her cartwheel, learn new techniques so that she can be the best team mate she can be.   I was the kid in high school who loved singing but constantly talked myself out of really auditioning for anything other than the chorus in the school musical (except for senior year).  I was so scared of giving the wrong answer that I didn't raise my hand in class and I always chose my social life over really applying myself-just because I thought I couldn't do it.  Then, here are my amazing daughters who have been just exceeding, addressing things, and volunteering to do extra.  They are challenging themselves, they are accomplishing things, and they don't realize what a huge deal it is.  They are not afraid!  I don't know where that comes from.  I am so in awe of what they have inside of their souls and can't even imagine where they will end up with that kind of courage.  Imagine, if all of the girls weren't afraid to tackle math problems or climb mountains or be doctors or study climate change, the economy, be president.  Imagine a GENERATION of Michelle Obamas, Hilary Clintons, Annie Oakleys.  My job is to keep nourishing that flame and to encourage them to always be brave.

Now the flip side of the coin.  I had heard rumours from an unnamed source that my 9 year old was really working hard to stop calling me mommy, and to start calling me mom.  Tonight she was reading a book to her sister, and was replacing "mommy" with "mom" the whole way through.  I went in to the room, intending to just tell her that I understood, that I remembered that thought, and as I was saying it, I started crying because I realize that it's time.  She is growing up.  She is closer to being a teen than a toddler, and is halfway to adulthood.  I smiled at her, told her that I understood, that I was sorry I was crying, but that I understood.  I told her that it was okay with me if she called me "mom" it wouldn't hurt my feelings, but that she could call me "mommy" whenever she wanted.  We both cried, we both hugged, the six year old started crying, said that she still wanted to call me "mommy."  One of us made a fart joke, we laughed about all the silly ways you can say "mommy" and I left the room with them giggling over Pinkalicious together.
That's the way of motherhood. The bittersweet, working-your-way-out-of-a-job reality of parenting.  If you do it right, they're constantly challenging themselves, reaching out, yet strengthening those wings to leave the nest some day.  I will always encourage them to stretch and grow, even as it makes me want to cling tighter and pull them back.  For now, though, we'll just try to make it through the tween angst, teen rebellion, and I'll sit in awe of the women they're becoming.

Cry It Out Vs. Crying in General-Yeah, I'm going there.

In case you don't know what CIO means (apparently you haven't been a new mom in the past 100 years or so) it means Cry It Out-meaning the Cry It Out Method.  There are some facts that I want to address about babies crying, because there is a wealth of false information about letting babies cry.

According to Baby Center, there are at least 12 reasons why babies cry:

• 1. Hunger
• 2. A dirty diaper
• 3. Needs sleep
• 4. Wants to be held
• 5. Tummy troubles (gas, colic, and more)
• 6. Needs to burp
• 7. Too cold or too hot
• 8. Something small
• 9. Teething
• 10. Wants less stimulation
• 11. Wants more stimulation
• 12. Not feeling well
• What to do if your baby's still crying

At the end of the article, there is one more category, and that says that babies cry sometimes for no reason!  They do!  So do you!  Sometimes babies cry to get excess energy out of their system.  Sometimes they cry to tell you what they need (because, at the beginning, they don't have any other way to tell you-they can't talk yet, after all).

So, let's talk about babies crying, okay?  This is one thing that makes me crazy, and I'm going to rant alllll over you right now.

Do you smell it?  Soak it in, baby!

Let's talk about this bullshit statement "It's not my parenting choice to let my baby Cry It Out."  Do you want to know why this is bullshit?  Because it is, pure and simple.  People who say that have a warped idea of what/why babies cry and what exactly Cry It Out means.  Babies cry.  They fuss, they cry, eventually they start to smile, laugh and talk, but at first they just cry, poop and sleep.  You can choose to never let your baby cry, but you are setting yourself up for a lifetime of misery if you do.  I have heard this statement from multiple first-time parents, and they all make me crazy when I hear it. 

First of all, babies cry sometimes to communicate with you.  Do you know what your baby is saying when it is crying because he/she is hungry?  The baby is saying "Hey, it's been 2.5 seconds since I stopped eating/you sat down/you started to shower/poop/etc. and I'm HUNGRY!"  That is communication.  P.S.  You want them to learn to communicate with you if you ever want them to talk.  I understand if you don't want them to learn to talk, I have a 6 year old and a 3 year old, but it's probably not the best plan for them to get ahead in life.

Does this picture stress you out as much as it does me?  If so, you're a parent!

Babies also cry to burn off energy.  The youngest ones, especially, all have working brains, and ideas about what they want to do.  They are trapped in a body that won't move the way they want it to/they can't figure out how to make it do what they want it too.  They can't talk to you.  They can't get what they want by themselves.  They have energy to burn.  They are frustrated.  They cry.  Or, maybe they are trying to get to sleep or who knows!  If you have fed them, changed their diaper, held them, rocked them, and they are in a safe place, it's okay to let them cry for a while while you take some time to get yourself together.

Not a safe place to leave your baby while you get yourself together.

Trust me, you will need to get yourself together sometimes.  Sometimes that overwhelming feeling of being responsible for a new life, the sound of your baby crying when you don't know what to do to fix it, the knowledge that you have tried everything and the idea that you can't control this  situation is just too much.  You need to take a time out and if the baby has to cry for 5 or 10 minutes, so be it.  Forgive yourself.  You are going to be a much better mother if you let yourself relax, enjoy your baby, and don't constantly hold yourself up to unrealistic expectations.

Finally, there seems to be this idea out there that Cry It Out means letting your baby cry until they pass out or die or forever or something.  That is simply not true.
This is what it actually means:

What exactly is the Ferber method?

In a nutshell, Ferber says you can teach your baby to soothe himself to sleep when he's physically and emotionally ready, usually sometime between 3 and 5 months of age.

He recommends following a warm, loving bedtime routine and then putting your baby in bed awake and leaving him (even if he cries) for gradually longer periods of time. Putting a child to bed awake, says Ferber, is crucial to successfully teaching him to go to sleep on his own.

Parents are instructed to pat and comfort their baby after each predetermined period of time, but not to pick up or feed their baby. This routine is called "progressive waiting."

The suggested waiting time, which Ferber charts in his book, is based on how comfortable you are with the technique, how many days you've been using it, and how many times you've already checked on your child that night.

After a few days to a week of gradually increasing the waiting time, the theory goes, most babies learn to fall asleep on their own, having discovered that crying earns nothing more than a brief check from you.

You can read more here.

That is probably not so much different than you are already doing, and it doesn't seem nearly as controversial as it is made out to be.  We all, as parents, have to work on building our children into independent adults, and that includes being able to fall asleep.  Do you want to know how long I made it the first time I tried to let my daughter cry?  About 30 seconds.  She was fine.  Do you know how long it took her to "learn" to fall asleep on her own when laid down awake?  About a week or so.  We were consistent with routine, kept her physically and intellectually active, and had set bed times.  It was hard work, but to this day, both of my children are excellent sleepers, are able to self-soothe, and happy and well-adjusted children.  They have formed secure attachments to us, they have friends, and are functional kids.  They are independent and have a strong sense of self.



We will all argue and fight for our children, views, etc. but at the end of the day we will all do what is best for our children.  We will all be the best parents we can be.  We will love our kids, make some mistakes, and hope that they forgive us some day.   That's all fine, and hopefully some day we moms can stop fighting each other about who is right and wrong, and forgive ourselves for being who we are.

What About Me?

What is the biggest challenge for moms in the whole world? It is trying to figure out who you are, apart from your children. That is a crazy idea, but, even if you have a baby, it's something that we all have to think about. You know why? Some day, if we do our job the right way and circumstances allow it, they will be on their way, and we will be "us" again. Yes, we'll always be their moms, but we will once again be on our own, with free time, (hopefully) some extra money, and we will be of legal age to do almost anything!

                                                                  Yup, even that.

So, let's start making a list of the things that we want to do now, but we know that if we were caught it would look bad and you would probably be labeled as a degenerate by the Parent Teacher Council (unless,of course, you have them in on the activities with you).

So, what will we be able to do when we are able to be ourselves? We can travel to exotic, not necessarily kid friendly locations

 I hadn't noticed old people crossing the road with their hands up each other's asses before. I'll be sure to look for it now.






We can try new and exciting foods, we can listen to as much hardcore, Gangsta rap as we want with our windows down and our systems up because you know what? We won't give a ___sorry, can't say it. The kids are still in the room.

You get the general idea.

We'll be older, but not too old, and we'll be ready to reclaim some of the youth we were so eager to put on the back burner in order to raise our children responsibly. This doesn't mean, though, that we have to get stale, boring, bland and overly mature. We can still laugh at potty humor. We can still get a little wild with our friends, we can still be us because, in the end, that is what our kids are going to remember. They are going to remember our little idiosyncrasies and the things that made us special to them. They're also going to remember all of the things that you did to permanently scar your children (mine are going to remember because I am keeping a running log for them-so that they can just hand that sucker over to their therapist some day). Just be you. Don't worry about being a super parent. be the best parent you can be. Because, when they are grown and on their own some day, you are going to be left with yourself. Isn't it easier to act a little foolish if you've always been kind of a goof ball? I think there's less to explain that way. They'll just say "Oh, that's mom, she's a little crazy," instead of "Goodness, Muffy, Mother seems to have stepped off the deep end, perhaps we should have an intervention. She is eating her ice cream before her dinner!"

This picture has nothing to do with anything, but it makes me giggle. And that, my friends, is why I am a good, authentic parent.

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. 

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.

The Money Jar

Ingredients:
2 Jars (Mason, Spaghetti Sauce, etc.)
Coins
Unruly Child

Step 1.  Decide on target behaviors (we decided to work on talking instead of whining, eating meals without complaining, sharing, following directions the first time she's asked and being quiet when I'm on the phone).  Assign a monetary amount to each behavior (following directions is worth 10 cents, everything else is worth 5.)

Step 2.  Explain rules to unruly child.  Explain that if they, for example, follow directions the first time they're asked to do something they will earn 10 cents.  Likewise, if they don't meet the targeted behaviors (and start whining, for example) 5 cents from her jar will go into my jar.  Also explain that "extra" coins can be earned for super duper extra helpful and kind actions.

Step 3.  Watch said unruly child turn into a perfect angel and magically decide that they have  to clean up the play room, take her blanket upstairs, and share with her sister.  Oh, and be consistent.


Step 4.  Call your friend and thank her for the idea because, at least for one day, you didn't  have to fight with your daughter.  Hug your daughter and love her.

Step 5.  Call your mom and thank her for raising you.  I don't know about you, but my mom did it all alone-and I don't know how she did it.  Love you, Mom!

Remember-change the goals as your child masters them and remember-this is a positive reinforcement technique.  The amount of money doesn't matter to the child as much as the fact that they can see items being put in or taken out of their jar.  If you don't feel comfortable with money use something else that your child really cares about.  We're saving up Olivia's coins to buy a DVD or a Barbie-whichever she decides she wants more.

Our Baby is Turning One!

My youngest daughter is turning one in a few days.  It is amazing to think that a year ago she was not even a separate being from me-she was a tiny baby, dependent on my nutrients and contained within my body.  She was a mystery to us, and we looked forward to meeting her and watching her personality form.  
Now she is showing her personality and she is even more than I could have hoped for!  She has a great sense of humor, appears to be unfailingly curious, loves to play with her sister and our dog, is friendly to strangers but is still a mommy's girl.  


We are amazed at how early the sibling friction can be seen.  One day, when we were in the car, our eldest daughter was trying to relax and have quiet time.  Our youngest picked up on that and kept screaming at her and then laughing when Olivia would say "Maya, STOP YELLING!"  Then Maya would yell again and laugh, looking right at Olivia the whole time.  Needless to say,  my husband and I found that very amusing.  


We look back to our four-year-old's first birthday and how far she has come in just three years.  At the same time, we try to predict what Maya will be like in three years and have a few theories:

1. Wild Woman:  She could turn out to be the class clown, very boisterous and talkative.  I have a feeling she will be a "look before you leap" kind of person.  To be honest, I am nervous about what life will be like with her walking, running and exploring on her own.  I think I'll have to get in better shape.
2. Scientist:  Maybe not a scientist, maybe more of a food critic since everything goes in her mouth.  Hopefully that will stop.
3.   Endurance Runner:  Maya watches her sister with rapt attention and clearly just wants to do just what her sister is doing.  I think that she will walk for a day and run to catch up with Olivia for the rest of her life.
4. Math/Academic Whiz:  This is from my personal experience.  I had math troubles and was forced under penalty of being whipped with a wet noodle to do math flash cards nightly.  As a result, my younger sister knew the times tables, addition and subtraction and how to divide before I really understood any of that.  That really ticked me off, by the way.  Not enough to learn them but just enough to be really mad that my sister had beaten me.
5. Cuddle Bug:  Maya is a very cuddly, huggy baby and I hope that continues well into her school years.  

Happy Birthday, Maya Papaya!  

For the record, Olivia thinks Maya will be a princess when she's 4.

Really Living while on a Budget

I thought that right now, in the beginning of a new year (but not the beginning of a new decade, as a friend of ours pointed out-the new decade does not, in fact, begin until 2011) would be a good time to address the biggest monkey on my back...debt and budgeting.  This is not just a sore spot to me, though, most of my friends and even our country are struggling with these issues.  I know that there are a lot of reasons for this current economic melt down but believe that if we were brought up as a nation to be savers (and conservers and recyclers not to mention critical thinkers) this situation would not have happened.
When I was growing up, I received an allowance from my mom.  I was expected to split it into two envelopes, one for  saving and one for spending money.  By the end of high school, I had a pretty good chunk of change saved up.  However, in the ever amazing wisdom of youth, I spent it all on a car.  Now, I loved that car but it was not the best choice I ever made.
Thanks to the two envelope system I grew up with, I have a never ending need to save.  I love having money in my savings account.  The more I have saved, the better I am able to sleep.
My family, through a few different factors (choice, some poor decisions when we were young(er) and (more) foolish, and some unexpected circumstances) is currently living on a very strict budget.  Luckily, we both have jobs, we are all healthy and have had relatively good luck with our cars.  We have, however, had to make many adjustments to our wallets and more to our minds to be able to move forward with our finances.
The first challenge to our finances came with the birth of our oldest daughter.  We were a two-income family but now had to pay out over $500.00 per week in child care.  We did not adjust our weekly spending habits and quickly found ourselves in a pickle.  We had very little savings and the same expenses did not realize that even with two full time incomes an extra expenditure of $120 per week would hit the bank account so hard.  But we kept on and in time we cut other expenses down and were able to better absorb that daycare expense.  Then we started thinking about having another child.  Then we decided to move to Hawaii from Maine.  Then I dropped down to part-time work (and we worked at different times) so that we wouldn't pay child care any more.  Then we were blessed with a second, un-eventful pregnancy.  Then we moved back to Maine and bought a house.  Then we had our second baby girl.  Now it's been about a year since we bought the house and have two children, two cars and I only work part-time.
And, you know what?  We are for the most part in better shape budget wise than we were with two incomes.  We don't make nearly as much money but we are far more conscious of our money.  Before we spend we ask ourselves a few questions:
1.  Can we get this used? (except for underwear, diapers, basically anything that touches the nether regions)
2.  Is this the best possible deal?  Sometimes this is a really hard one to ask myself because I am generally shopping alone with my two children.  Anyone who shops alone with any children knows that the biggest hassle of a shopping trip is the CHILDREN!  The idea of going to a second shop (which means loading them back into the car for a trip somewhere else and then getting everyone out and re-organized to go into yet another store is a huge hassle).  Generally I research my prices and products online and don't go for it until I'm pretty certain that I can get what I need in one place.
3.  Do we really NEED this?  I admit, this is a hard one for us.  We are fairly impulsive people and have a very hard time differentiating between need and want.  I am also excellent at justifying why I should buy things.  I know this and often have to talk myself out of making purchases while trying to talk myself into making purchases.
4.  If we need this, where the heck are we going to put it?  This is our newest test.  Having two children has shown me that your home will quickly get overrun with stuff.  If I don't have a place to put the item, I do not allow myself to buy it.  As a part of that rule, my husband recently built a wall of shelves in our basement (from floor to ceiling)  We were able to put everything but a few tables and our bikes away on those shelves.  We have now set a limit that we will not store anything down in the basement that does not fit on those shelves.  That means that before we can get any more stuff, we need to purge what we already have.

These steps seem so common sense as I write them but when going through them it is very difficult to be honest with myself about the answers.  However, we have had some really great discussions with Olivia about budgeting, about clearing out trash and toys that aren't used any more and about recycling.  We'll keep with our plan and hopefully our country can find a way to make a realistic budget and get some money in the old savings account!

Fear vs. Reflection...How Best to Raise Our Children

There is a debate raging inside my head about how best to raise my children.  The little angel sitting on my right shoulder keeps telling me to raise them to be self-reflective, caring citizens who think about their actions and make choices based on a deep seated set of ethics.  The fat, lazy couch potato devil on my left shoulder says that I should teach them to follow the rules blindly and out of fear of whatever consequences my evil brain may cook up.
On one hand, I really like the idea that my children will make choices according to a set of ethics and a feeling of empowerment.  On the other hand, I want them to just automatically do what I say without questioning.
Don't get me wrong-this does not apply to all issues.  Safety issues are not negotiable.  There is not any ethical middle ground to running into the street.  This applies to questions like should I be honest?  Do I hit back?  Do I share with my friends?  For the most part, Olivia seems to understand that you share with friends because it makes you feel good and makes them feel good and that's one way that you show people that you care about them.  However, she is only four and there is only a certain amount of self-reflection that is possible.
When the situation presents itself, however, I generally try to talk with her about what she thinks she should do in a situation and why, and what may be some alternatives.  The problem with this route, though, is that she now is negotiating with me and is really good at it!  It is a little scary, how logical she can be and how quickly she can put together an argument.
So, now I think that I am going to have to go the route that my mom ended up going which is a combination of reflection first then fear.  She had two tools in her arsenal and they were good ones.
1.  She told us that she had spies all over the neighborhood and they would be watching us.  Therefore, she would always know what was going on.  The scariest thing was, it was true!  One day my sister crossed the road (jay walked) with no one in the road and no one around.  When she walked into the house my mother called from work and told her that she knew that Steph had crossed the street...and not at the light!  We were amazed and terrified by her power!  For years to come, and still to this day, when faced with a choice that could be a bad one I think a. does this seem like the right thing to do? and b. if not, is it worth getting caught and getting in trouble?
2.  She had a remote that would beep when a button was pushed.  It had a small speaker and nothing else on it.  She told us it was a lie detector and would point it at us when she asked us questions.  We believed.

So, when my girls grow up, I hope they feel the same way about me that I feel about my mom.  I hope, when they remember me, they think "She taught me right from wrong, and when all else failed, I sometimes made better choices because I was afraid of the wrath that would come down on me."

A Torturous Day of Mayhem

Yesterday was not a good day for the Smith ladies.  We had a day of fighting, not listening, crying and general chaos.  It was one of those days when, for the few minutes that everything goes well, you hug your children and tell them you love them and then one of them hits the other one and all bets are off.
Nap time came and went, along with a HUGE tantrum from Olivia and both girls took miniscule teeny tiny little naps.  I was at my wits end.  All I could think of was "I need BACKUP!"
Finally, Lincoln was on his way home from work.  Relief was in sight.  He pulled into the driveway and took over the care of the little monsters.  I was preparing dinner, put Maya in her high chair and she grabbed my glass of water from the table and poured it all over herself, the high chair and the floor.  I just lost all ability to pretend that this day wasn't bothering me.  I kept wondering what was wrong with me?  Why couldn't I just control the situation?  What had I been doing so wrong today that my children were completely out of control?
I was on the floor, sputtering about escaping by myself...maybe even to jail...for a few days of silence when Lincoln asked me, incredulously, "What is wrong with you?"  I gave him a dirty look and said "We've had a...very...very...difficult day."
We had dinner, went through the evening after dinner, and you know what?  It wasn't just me!  Lincoln had just as hard a time as I had been having all day.  My only thought was "Thank GOD!"  When we had a minute, I asked him, "Now, do you see what I was talking about earlier?"  And he said very quietly, "Yes."
I was so relieved that I was ready to cry.  I felt so bad that he was having a hard time with them, too, but at least I wasn't alone in experiencing this.
Now, we've all had a good night's sleep and we are all getting along again.  Olivia is listening, has told me that she loves us and Maya is not destroying the house in a single reach.  We made it through and no one even had to go to jail.

1st Time Mom Vs. 2nd Time Mom

I have two daughters. They were singletons and have had very different babyhoods so far. Olivia was my first, she was a planned surprise (planned and then discovered after we had decided to stop trying for a baby) and Maya was completely planned. They are three and a half years apart and so far seem to be best friends.

There are some surprising differences in my experiences being a mom the first time around.

The First Time:

Everything had to be PERFECT! This was my baby, and she would lack for nothing. Nothing could be more important than having the pack and play match the pattern on the stroller and car seat. Except, of course, that everything had to be new. I remember the horror I felt at the idea of putting used clothes on my princess.

Everything had to be by-the-book. There was no compromise when it came to developmental toys, foods, breast or bottle fed and if I attempted to deviate at all I terrorized myself with ridiculous guilt trips.

I was convinced that I was not going to be able to keep her alive. That poor child was poked and prodded so many times during naps and night sleeping to ease my mind.

I spent hours agonizing over her development, my role in any delays and how to "help" her. The fact that our pediatrician, my co-workers at early intervention, my husband, our parents and everyone else said that she was developing fine meant nothing to me. What did they know? They weren't her mother!

The second time around has been very different.

This time there is more pressure to be fair to both of them and ensure that I am giving them enough time. Maya (baby #2) shows signs of being even more easy going than Olivia was, and smiles and laughs at everything!

This time I have them sharing a room so having Maya wake up in the night is more than just an inconvenience-it is a catastrophe! Once one was up, the other is, too and it is all I was able to do to get through that stage.

With Olivia, I agonized over the decision to supplement her with formula while primarily feeding her breast milk. With Maya, I made that decision with little to no hesitation. I actually was easier able to nurse Maya but I didn't have the patience for it. She was nursing non stop and I didn't have the ability to pump extra for bottle feedings.

This time, I am actually able to enjoy her milestones rather than always waiting for the next one to come up. I have more faith in our parenting and our knowledge of child development and I am confident that we are on the right path.

I keep thinking that having one was great, and it really was, but two are even better!

An Unidentified Flying Object

We were driving home from Wal-Mart, having survived a traumatic headband incident where I did not buy Olivia a headband. I was concentrating on the road, it was dark out and my eldest daughter was wailing in the back seat.

I was on the phone with Lincoln, my husband, when a projectile seemed to fly by my arm and down to the floor in front of my seat. As I had just moved my arm, I thought that I had probably knocked something out of the cup holder that is just at elbow height.

The ride continued uneventfully and Olivia was talking about the banana that she had been eating in the back in between mournful cries about the headband that was never to be. We reached our drive way and I opened the door.

When I looked down there was a peeled banana rolling around in front of my seat. I thought to myself: "She couldn't possibly have such good aim that she could chuck a banana through the two front seats, over my shoulder and have it land before the dash board! Much less in a moving vehicle on a dark night...could the banana have been there before our ride?" No. I knew it wasn't.

I turned around. She looked at me, defiantly, and I knew the horrible answer. She was the banana thrower. She was the one who had maliciously tossed the fruit at me. I asked her: "Why?"

And she said, perfectly innocently, "Mommy, I didn't like it! It was too spicy!"

Now what to do? This is not a scenario the books prepare you for. I don't remember anything about wild, fruit throwing, headband wanting children in the What to Expect books.

I looked at her and, trying so hard not to laugh while giving her my best, scary mom look said "You are not to ever throw anything in the car, it is dangerous, and I could have been hurt." In my head I'm thinking, really? I have to discipline you over a banana throwing incident? And I almost started to laugh again. I had to think along the lines of a more dangerous scenario. What if it had been a set of numchucks, or a sword or a frying pan instead of a banana? That would have been easier to dole out the serious discussion for. In the end, she agreed to never throw food again in the car and if she thought a banana was too spicy, she would ask me to take it.

I still am not sure why they have to test us in such ridiculous ways. It makes me wonder, is she testing more to see how I will react or how much she can get away with?

I feel Gram Moving in the Box...Discussing Death with my Daughter

This post is dedicated to Marie Hoover, a wonderful lady and my Husband's grandmother.

It was the summer, and my husband's grandmother was dying. She had been slowly declining for a few years, first her vision, then her physical abilities, and then she was declining mentally. She had in-home supports and then she fell.

When a neighbor came over to see what had happened, it is reported that Marie, in good spirits, looked up and jokingly said "I've fallen and I can't get up!" We found out shortly that she had broken her hip and the prognosis was grim at best.

We had discussed Gram's health issues with Olivia before, but not at great length because she is 4 and we didn't want to scare her. This was different. Gram had pulled out her IV at the hospital and was being transferred to a nursing home to pass on. She had decided that it was her time. How on earth were we going to explain this to Olivia?

I had been a social worker in my past life and had learned that there were a few things that we didn't want to do. We didn't want to tell her that Gram was going to "go to sleep" and we wouldn't see her any more because then she could be afraid to go to sleep. We didn't want to tell her anything that would cause her to be scared but weren't sure how to approach the subject.

I decided to tell her that Gram's body didn't work so well any more because she was very old and she was almost done with it. I told her what we believe about people having a spirit and when you are done with your body your spirit moves out and leaves the body behind. Once that happens, the body stops breathing, the heart stops and then the body dies. She accepted that and we talked a little bit about where the spirit might go. We decided that maybe it hangs around to check in on us but it probably has other places to be and we'll find that out some day.

So, we have the death settled and Olivia didn't seem too upset by that, she was just sad that she wouldn't see Gram any more. We went and said good bye to Gram at the Nursing home and waited for the news.

The funeral was a few days later. As we were driving to the cemetary I gave Olivia a quick run-down of what she was going to see. I had no idea what I was going to say. It went something like this:

Me: So, you know how we talked about Gram being done with her body and how her body died?

Olivia: Yeah. Gram's dead. I miss her.

Me: Well, today we're going to a funeral. That is where they take the body that isn't needed any more and it will be in a box. Then the men are going to put the box in the ground and bury it. Gram is not in there any more, though, she is probably flying around like an angel, we just can't see her any more.

Olivia: Oh, will she be moving in the box?

Me: No, Gram's body doesn't move any more.

Olivia: Oh.

Me: Most of the people will be sad because it is sad to say goodbye to someone you love, and a lot of people loved her very much.

Olivia: Yeah.

Once we reached the cemetary Olivia saw the coffin.

Olivia: Oh, there is Gram in the box!

Me: Yeah, there it is (I didn't know what to expect at this point).

Olivia: So, when are they going to put the box in the ground?

Olivia went up to the casket with her dad to say goodbye to Gram. She kneeled down next to the coffin, put her hands on top and looked up at my husband. In a very serious whisper she said "Daddy, Gram's in this box and I feel her moving around."

She did very well at the funeral and I guess that we didn't scare her with the death talk because she is able to talk about Gram, death and funerals and not be upset.

As an aside, as I wrote Gram's name the last time, one of our daughter's toys randomly started playing "Jimmy Crack Corn." Did I mention that Marie had a great sense of humor?