Touchstones To Get You Through The Election Season

img_3060

Fall is one of my favorite times of the year.  It is a season that generously boasts such bold beauty.  In New England, it is truly spectacular.  If you are like me, you might be having a hard time seeing all the positives through this ugly election season that is truly putting a damper on my autumnal affection.  I decided some touchstones were in order.  Enough of all the negativity. I voted early. It’s up to the Gods now.  Moving on!  It’s time to let in all the sunshine and make LOVE my priority.   I implore you to make your own list of things that bring you joy during this season.  The act of writing them down brought joy to my heart.  It is good to remember what brings us to life.  Everyone’s list, of course, is different, because we are all wonderfully deliciously different.  And that is a glorious thing.  Here are some of mine.

 

Autumn Afternoons

The sound of leaves falling outside

The smell of a fire burning in a fireplace

Hot cider

Mums in bloom

Pumpkins

Homemade apple sauce

The colors of autumn leaves

Trick or Treat

Lighting candles around the house

Baking in the oven

Stews and soups

Butternut Squash

Pumpkin Spice Scones at Starbucks

Hikes in the woods

Sweaters and fleeces

The sweet smell of my son’s hair after playing outside

My son’s joyful laugh while he tosses leaves in the air

Cabernet by the fire

Dozing in my husband’s arms

Ollie sandwiches (that’s a 3 person hug with Ollie in the middle)

Celebrating gratitude

The brisk night air

Starry autumn nights

 

Sending you much love and light this season.  It’s time for a bit of peace, love and understanding.  From what I hear, Kindness is making a huge comeback.  Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  #rosecoloredglasses #polyannawannabe

 

 

 

Mommy Falling Short


image

I know I’m not the only parent who has moments where I feel like I am completely failing my child. Those moments where everything I give seems to be just not quite enough.  I often have this nagging suspicion that I should be doing more. That I should be teaching him more. That I should be exposing him to more. It feels as if every opportunity missed is a failure. Why is that?  I know it is completely silly. I’m not so far gone to believe that this is the absolute reality. The notion that his development is solely based on my interaction with him is completely foolish, I know. Nevertheless, it is very hard to shake the idea that, where it concerns our O, I should be doing more. More. More.

I understand the importance of taking care of myself. I understand the importance of having my own “thing” outside of caring for O. And I do. I pay attention to my husband. I give time to my aging parents.  I take care of our home.  Yes, I am spread thin. But not so thin that I feel like any one area loses out. Except where it concerns O. (Enter nagging feeling) Because the truth of the matter is, that I would do anything and everything for my child and even then it would not seem like it was enough, in my own estimation. I swear, I am not getting all crazy on you. But If I am being totally honest, I can’t escape the feeling of (maybe) coming up short. So a question is….is it my type A personality or do other Moms feel this way?

I am well versed in the phrase, “I am doing the best that I can.” And I am. Aren’t we all? But what happens when your best isn’t cutting it? What happens when you know you should bring your toddler to the park for some outside time, but you really have to take care of some pressing business? Or imagine….you just don’t feel like it? Or what about when you let him watch The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse because you really want to blow dry your hair and put on some makeup to look like some semblance of a lady rather than the gal who cleans the floors? Is that me really doing my best? Or is that just the crap I tell myself to make my selfishness seem more palatable?

There is no shortage of support in this web of deceit. Pretty much everyone is ready to tell you what a great Mom you are. How you are, in fact, “doing the best you can”. We all talk about how hard it is. And it is. We are all very human, as we are compelled to be. I don’t ruminate over this to find a way to be a better mom.  I, like every mom I know, is being the best mom she knows how to be. What I am acknowledging is the layer of guilt that wants to float to the surface every now and then. The guilt that permeates logic and reason. It lingers deep in our consciousness. And even though we are doing everything “right,” it pops up. Ready to take us down.

Now there very well may be some fathers who feel the same way. I’m not sure. I actually didn’t ask my husband. But something tells me that men think differently about parental guilt. I could absolutely be wrong. But for some reason, guilt tends to be a trait overwhelmingly known to females.  I have an amazing dad, but I have a hard time thinking of him laying awake at night wondering if he could have done more to further my development. I know, for a fact,  my Mother (where it concerns her four children) believes she fell short.

So where are we? Well, I’m not sure.  I suppose I will have to squelch the rising guilt when it decides to rear its ugly head.  It really has no place in my everyday life.  None of us have the time for that wasted energy.   I guess I will keep trying, as we all will.  Everyday… to do my best and to make my best better.  The truth is that everyday comes with new challenges. Some days I rise to meet the challenge in front of me and some days I can’t seem to navigate through the unknown without falling on my face a little.  Or a lot.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks for reading. Xo

 

Bon Appetit Baby

image

That’s it.  I’ve had it.  It is time to reign in my picky eater and broaden his horizons.  I will expand my child’s palate or die trying.  Ok, that is a bit dramatic.  But I mean, come on! I refuse to accept that I must only give him pasta,  PB&J, or yogurt, as these are the foods he eats willingly. In my short sightedness to get him to eat, I started giving him only things that he liked.  Day after day….and now it has turned into my toddler refusing to even try anything that looks different.  It is ridiculous. It is my own fault.  And it is time to end this craziness.

I’m not supposing this will be easy.  It is learned behavior on his part, that I have indulged.  He does seem to have an issue with textures, but instead of helping him through that, I let him avoid it.  I could kick myself.  (Hindsight, right?). Now that he is well over the two year mark and in the throws of being a toddler, he can absolutely eat anything and in my opinion, should.  My husband and I are adventurous eaters.  We enjoy different foods, spices, wines and whatnot.  It is unacceptable to me that I will raise a child to be a pedestrian eater.  It just won’t jive with our rhythm at home.  He will need to learn to eat what we eat, and it starts now.  Did I say I know this is going to be difficult?

When O was a baby, the doctor, and pretty much everyone, said, “He will know when he isn’t hungry.  He’ll stop himself.  Babies know when they are full.”  Well that may be true, but I’m not convinced a toddler knows.  My son would eat as many graham bunnies as I gave him.  He would also prefer them for dinner, if I’d allow it.  His new tactic when he doesn’t want to try something is to say “All done.”  So I’ve now started to say, “OK, all done.”  I’ve stopped offering anything else.   Down he goes from the table.  Dinner is over.  No second chances.  He will go to sleep with an empty stomach.  My hope is that he won’t let himself go too hungry.  Right? Harsh, I know.  But I refuse to be a slave to a finicky child.

Last night, we had roasted summer vegetables and turkey kielbasa over brown rice.  It was actually very nice.  O only ate some of the rice.  I wanted him to at least taste the meat and vegetables.  Mind you, there were sweet potatoes and carrots in the veggie mix, which he likes, but because they were in chunks he would not even try them.  Really? It’s maddening.  So, once the rice was picked over, he asked for apple sauce, which was denied.  He followed up with a wail and an “All done!”  I make no fuss over it.  I simply say “OK, all done.”  I take him out of his chair and send him on his way…hungry. Eventually, the stubbornness will yield to hunger, right? Are you thinking that I am a horrible mother now?

In France, children O’s age, sit down for a three course meal, daily.  They eat all sorts of fish, fruits, vegetables and cheeses.  When I say vegetables I don’t mean brocolli with cheese sauce, either.  There are no special dinosaur chicken nuggets sold in grocery stores.  And there aren’t special kid menus in every restaurant featuring the same items: pizza, mac and cheese, and a hotdog.  They are taught from a very young age how to eat and how to appreciate food.   International data collated by the International Association for the Study of Obesity show that 15% of children are overweight in France compared to a whopping 30% in the U.S.  So who is doing it right?

I believe that food is part of our education as people of a civilized society.  To appreciate different tastes and textures is one of life’s pleasures.  Sharing a meal with family and friends, is to be part of something.  It is a learned sense of community and belonging.  Eating is something we need to do for the rest of our lives.  Perhaps it should be something we are educated about and learn to do well.  Anyway, that’s this mama’s two cents.  I’ll let you know how my struggle goes.  Did I mention I don’t anticipate it is going to be easy?

Until next time, while I’ll be rocking in a corner back and forth, keep fighting the good fight, and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Ah, my life story!  Bon Appetit!

A New Day

image

I have been grappling this week with what to write about.  It is a familiar struggle, but sometimes it proves tougher than other times.  I’m usually blocked because I have something on my mind that I feel perhaps I shouldn’t write about.  Or maybe I don’t think anyone else would find it interesting.  But censoring myself has never been a productive strategy.  So here goes.

I have been very affected by the politics in our country lately.  It feels as if the country is divided in a way that I have never seen in my life time.  And it scares me.  The hate filled, fear mongering rhetoric of a certain tiny hand candidate is appalling, divisive, and small minded.  In my opinion, it has no place in the leadership of our country.  The parties hateful sentiments do not represent my feelings.  Not at all.  But rather than write about The Ego with the bad comb-over, who already gets far far too much press, I want to talk about what inspires me.  This past week, something amazing happened that moved me greatly, as a woman, a mother and a citizen of the world.

I know I am pretty sappy and have a tendency to get emotional over a Hallmark commercial, but I have to tell you that I was genuinely moved by the remarkable speech from our country’s First Lady, Michelle Obama at the DNC in Philadelphia.  I know as a liberal it is assumed that I would be a fan of the First Lady, so I will skip the list of admirable traits I believe she embodies.  (There are many).  But what really got me was when she said how her daughters, and all our sons and daughters, could now take for granted that a woman could become President of the United States.  That struck a chord in me.  I realized, quite seriously, that history is being made before our very eyes.

This past weekend I was lucky enough to see Hamilton on Broadway.  Beyond it being an incredible piece of theatre, I couldn’t help be struck by the poetic justice of watching an incredibly talented, racially diverse cast, portray our founding fathers. I suppose this must really ruffle the feathers of the David Dukes of the world.  It’s funny, but the color of any actors skin didn’t really dawn on me until after the show.  It made perfect sense that George Washington should be played by a handsome strapping black man.  I was reminded that for all intents and purposes, we are all really immigrants.   To say you are not is just inaccurate.  I was reminded of the limitations women had to endure regardless of their intellect.  In the words of the character Angelica Schuyler, “We hold these truths to be self evident that all men are created equal, and when I meet Thomas Jefferson, I’m gonna compel him to include women in the sequel. Work!”  The point is, we have come so so far.  Why would we ever go backwards?  It defies logic.  At least to this mommy it does.

This morning I was watching the highlights of the democratic convention.  I watched, and re-watched, a woman of 102 years of age, who was born before women could vote, officially report Arizona delegates for Hillary Rodham Clinton for President of the United States.  It doesn’t matter what you think of Secretary Clinton.  You can love her.  You can hate her.  But the shattering of that glass ceiling is undeniable and has changed us forever.  I suppose if you are against her, you might deny its significance.  But in my opinion, you’d be denying reality.  I will not get into a debate with anyone regarding Hilz.  I won’t change your mind and you won’t change mine.  But this is my blog and #ImWithHer, if you hadn’t noticed.

The future of our society, that will be our children’s and their children’s society, is changing.  My son will not know of a time when a woman could be considered less important or less capable…and that’s huge.  It is so much bigger than Bozo the Clown’s ego.  I have a friend who has a daughter who is O’s age.  She is especially energized about this new day and all it will mean for her daughter.  But I truly think it is something for parents of girls and boys to celebrate.  There is hope this week.  There is a beacon of light shining through.  And as things seem to be going these days, I’m gonna hang onto it.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks for reading. Work!

P.S. I ordered my Hilary For President shirts for Me and O. Watch out world! Photos to follow.

 

Love Letter

image

I imagine, like most children, my son will someday ask me what he was like when he was a baby.  Kids love hearing stories about themselves.  I think these little anecdotes give them a sense of assurance and comfort. Although I have a blog full of posts and a website designed to share the journey of mothering my little O, most posts are about me and whatever trial or tribulation I am navigating any given week.  So this post is different.  I want O to be able to read this in years to come and know exactly what he was like on a particular day he shared with his Mommy. This post is a love letter to my O.

Dear O,

Days at the beach with you are just the best.  The packing up of snacks, towels, buckets and shovels among countless other things are totally worth it.  The hike up the dune, with you in my arms, to get to our little spot of heaven can be a workout.  But again, totally worth it!  The word “beach” comes from your perfect mouth.  I put you down and you immediately run your fingers through the sand, taking it all in as quickly as you know how.  I fill up a bucket with water as you plop yourself down and begin to dig.  You are so happy.

We have your cousins with us today.  You watch Will and Chris with idolization.  Their young teenage selves splashing about in the ocean.  You take my hand and say “ocean.” You want to be where they are.  We wade in the slight surf and you squeal with delight as the water tickles your legs.  You are laughing.  Smiling.  1…2….3!!! We jump the waves with the help of Uncle Paul.  He is taken with you, too. Who wouldn’t be? You are wonderful.

Our exodus from the beach must be highly planned.  Everything must be pretty much packed up and ready to go prior to getting you rinsed off in the ocean.   Once the sand is semi off of you, there is no putting you down.  As we leave the beach you call out, “Bye Ocean!” “Bye Bye Sandbox!”  I smile, as I climb over the dune because your sweetness is noted.  I make the decision then to stop for ice cream at Handy Hill.  Ice cream is your favorite and a treat is in order.  You’ve been so good.

You are only in a diaper and your swim shirt.  No shoes.  Your sun hat still atop your head of long curls.  I take you out of the car and you know where we are.  You are excited.  I order peanut butter Oreo ice cream in a cup for us to share.  I carry you over to a picnic table and sit you down next to me.  Your little legs swinging.  Your eyes big with delightful anticipation.  With one spoonful you smack your lips.  “Dewicious!!”  you say.  We rub our noses together when I ask you for a kiss.  And I know I am the luckiest Mommy in the world.

Days like this are wonderful and abundant.  You make me laugh and fill me with moments of pure joy each and every day.  Thank you,  my sweet boy.  I tell you, “I love you.”  I ask you, “how much?”  Sweetly and softly, as if in love yourself, you say, “So much.”  I am undone.  I am forever Yours.

Love, Mommy xo

 

Until next time, friend, keep fighting the good fight.  And remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks for reading! Xo

WE DON’T DO THAT

image

I have finally sat down from a day of days.  Trying to get O out of the house this morning to get to a car service appointment was like pulling teeth. It’s hot and muggy, so THAT doesn’t help matters. We get to the Kia dealership and for a second time, the playroom for use while you wait with your child, was filthy.  Nasty filthy.  Sorry Kia, not impressed! Anyway, O was being really good, so I figured while I was on the other side of hell’s creation, we would go to an indoor play area that he loves at the Mall.  This is where my rant begins.

As a parent, when I take my child to a play area, playground, you name it, my first priority is to watch my child.  On occasion, I have met a friend at a playground, and while we try to chat and catch up, we both have our eyes on our children. We are consistent with guiding our children in play.  You know, the basic stuff.  Wait your turn…no pushing…no grabbing.  This is the mom I want to be friends with.  You know why? Cause this Mom understands that a trip to the mall play area isn’t time off for her.  It’s not “let’s check my Facebook on my phone and tune out for a few minutes.”  Trust me, I know how much we all want some time to ourselves.  I am the first one to say it.  But this isn’t the time.

Taking your child to a group play area is an opportunity to teach your child how to interact socially with others, through play! I am not talking about helicoptering.  I’m talking about guiding when it is clear your child does not know which road to take. If I saw my son push past another child to go first down the slide, I would take him aside and explain that we don’t do that. By WE I mean, a civil kind society, does not do that! If my child just grabbed a toy from another child on the playground, I would explain, yet again, that we don’t do that! We do not just take from others.  We can ask if we may use the toy…or if we may take a turn. But we do not just take! What hope do our children have in this world without some guidance?

I have taught O to wait his turn.  I have taught him not to go down the slide until it’s all clear.  I have taught him that we don’t grab or push.  I am under NO illusion that these “rules for play” won’t need to be reiterated time and time again with him.  Of course they will. He is two.  And he is a child.  It is not any child’s fault for their behavior, lack of manners or lack of restraint.  They are children.  It is not their job to remember the things that will serve them as they grow up in this world.  It is the job of the parent to remind them (again and again) until it becomes the child’s second nature.

I was so freaking annoyed at the play area today.  Countless parents tuned out, letting their entitled children push past others.  Some Moms were hovering, but more engaged in chatting with their mommy friends.  I get it.  We are starved for connection with another adult.  Especially one going through the same trials and tribulations.  But your child has decided to continuously walk up the slide and block it while other children are waiting to go down.  He is completely disregarding other children; ones that are much younger and smaller than he is.  He is now lying on the slide completely blocking its path.  This is going on now for a bit of time.  You do realize that you can say NO to your child, right? I’m not saying you have to go all Joan Crawford on your kid, but at least a gentle reminder that we don’t do that!  Do you really think you are helping your children by not giving them guidance? Do you somehow think you are letting them find their way organically on their own? Or…are you just so unaware and ignorant that you think pushing and taking are good?  I tell you, I am still shaking my head.

I have been alarmed at the behavior of parents of all ages, races and socioeconomic backgrounds.  This epidemic of lack of respect is a wide spread problem.  This sense of entitlement being embedded into children’s minds is happening right there on the playground.  It’s plain as day to anyone tuned into it.  And parents are just sitting back, checking their phones and letting it grow like the social cancer it is.

Yes, I’m pissed.   Cause it’s right in front of me.  The problem and the solution.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight, and remember behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks for reading.

 

 

When You Think Your Toddler Is An A-Hole

image

Today my snack of choice is green pea crisps.  They are baked, gluten free and have enough salt to satiate me without being high in sodium.  A good choice of avoidance, I’d say.  But the bag is now empty, so my words need to start filling the page.  What I am about to say is not very nice.  I feel horrible for even thinking it.  As if guilt isn’t already part of my standard operating procedure.  But here it goes.  I don’t always like my toddler.  Yes, of course, I love him.  I’m grateful for him and can’t imagine my life without him.  But sometimes, he can be really unlikable.  Geez, Mary. Yeah, whatever.  I could have picked a much harsher word to describe this child and his unacceptable behavior, but my husband and his grandparents would no doubt frown upon such language chosen to describe their little angel.  I remember a friend of mine saying ” My kids are being such douche bags!”  I remember thinking, “Geez, that’s harsh.”  (What a judgmental singleton I was.). But now I kinda get it.   Cause sometimes it proves oh so true.

With O we have moved into a constant whine, which apparently is reserved just for mommy.  It is like nails on a chalkboard.  He has started kicking and swatting mommy followed by “Ow!” in a sassy “whatcha gonna do about it” tone.  Not to mention ramming Thomas the Tank Engine into the back of mommy’s ankles while I am at the kitchen sink.  Some days are far worse than others, obviously.  When I say “No” he says “Yes.”  When I say “Yes” he says “No.”  It’s maddening. It is non sensical.   No matter how I address the behavior (ignore, redirect, admonish) it persists.  These things are just the tip of the iceberg.  I know, I know, he is two.  He is testing me.  I take cleansing breath after cleansing breath.  It’s no wonder I don’t pass out from all the deep breathing.  I longingly look at the clock willing my husband to walk through the door.  I tell you this,  these aren’t the Terrible Twos….they are the A-Hole Years.

Trust me, I don’t feel good about saying this.  The tougher it gets,  the more I feel like I am failing.  Like there are days that I don’t know if I have the strength of character to get through.  Days where the fantasy of driving away in my car creeps it’s nasty head into my thoughts.  It is shameful.  It is humiliating and loathful.  Who thinks their child is an a-hole?  A two year old, no less.  I’m an ungrateful horrible bitch of a mother.

And then I remember three fundamental truths.  I am human.  I am doing the best I can.  And he is just a child.  I will get through the day.  God willing, I will get another shot at parenting tomorrow.  It’s all gonna be ok.  And just like Newton’s Third Law of Motion states, his unacceptable behavior will be replaced by an equally and opposing sweet, tender and loving state of being.  And just like that,  I can forget why I thought he was unlikable….until he dumps an entire jar of oregano all over the floor just because.  Or when he empties out my pantry for the umpteenth time leaving a trail of canned and dried goods from the kitchen to the living room.  I know it is him exploring and learning, which is why we let it happen, but after episode number 13 on any given day, I’d like to put a lock on the lazy susan.  But let’s be realistic, that would be met with a tantrum of tantrums and would only be a battle won, not the war.  I pick and choose my parenting battles carefully.  The word NO is important.  It’s overuse will make it meaningless.  I can’t have that.  No, the war is with myself, not my child.  It is about me finding peace and grace in the maddening mundane chaos.  I have gone white water rafting in number 5 conditions.  I have hiked mountains.  I have performed for audiences of thousands.  This, my friend, is much harder.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight, and remember, behind every great kid (who is, indeed, NOT an asshole) is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks for reading. Xo

 

The Truth Of The Matter

image

I am sat on a plane flying solo. I’m headed to Florida to take care of some business. I’ll be away from O for 3 days. I’ve done it before. In fact, you might remember, I wrote a blog post about it. I thought leaving him this time would be easier for the sheer fact that I have done it before. But this time it was harder. Much harder. I savored everything about the day we spent together yesterday. I held him tighter when I put him to bed last night.

Recent events in our world make me want to hold him tight and not let go. As if the mass shooting in Orlando was not horrific enough, I then hear about the 2 year old who was snatched up by an alligator at a Walt Disney World resort. His body recovered almost 24 hours later. The nightmarish details are haunting me. A little boy like O. Same age. No doubt, just as inquisitive and just as obsessed with water. Like most any 2 year old boy.

I’ve been to that resort. I’ve been on that beach front. Not in a million years would I ever think that an alligator would be something I’d have to think about. And at night, you would never have seen such a threat. Not even if it was right in front of you. I lived in Florida. I’ve seen many alligators. In my opinion, this wasn’t negligence on the parents part at all. Something like that would be off of anyone’s radar in that setting. I remember back in the 70’s and early 80’s when my parents took us to stay at Disney World, there was actually swimming allowed in that same body of water. We used to water ski in the adjacent Bay Lake. I’m telling you, I would have thought nothing of O wading in the edge of that water. But yet, the threat became a reality for that family. I can’t even wrap my head around the horror.

As a parent, our instinct is to shield, protect and hold tight. At times like these, the instinct is to hold tighter. I have a friend, who in response to the latest gun violence, said she wanted to keep her family in a bubble. I get it. But, of course, it is an impossibility. At some point we have to loosen the grip. At some point we have to hope that the example we set for our child will serve him as he makes his way in the world. Eventually, years from now, God willing, he will soar all on his own, hopefully towards great things and profound happiness. He won’t always be able to hold my hand and I won’t always be able to protect him.

One of the hardest things to swallow about the tragedies of this week, is that, while some tragedies, like the one in Orlando, are man made and preventable, some tragedies are a force of nature and completely unpredictable. You might say, well it could have been avoided. Well, perhaps, if the parents were holding their child tightly, not letting him explore his surroundings. And even then maybe not. But I don’t parent that way. With a watchful eye and often at a small distance, we let O explore. We believe it is important for his development and his intellect. I can tell you, honestly, we could have been in the same scenario as that family from Nebraska. I have cried real tears for those parents. My heart truly aches for them.

I guess the crazy thing to take away from all of this is that no day is promised. We are not entitled to anything more than the moment we are in. As a singleton, I always tried to embrace that ideology. But as a parent, it is a tough idea to digest. We want everything for our child and that includes a bright future. But none of it is guaranteed. That is the truth of the matter. You can scream and shout, you can fight the gun lobby, you can restrict your child from the world, you can hold them so tight they can’t move or you can choose to do nothing. We all have a choice. What we don’t have is a guarantee. Yes, that is the truth.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up. Thanks for reading. Xo God bless.

Toddler Madness

image

There are certain days my patience runs thin.  My son is approaching his second birthday.  He is in the beginning of the throws of what I am calling toddler madness.  This might prove to be the hardest period for us, as his communication skills are still sparse.  He says words, yes.  But his ability to actually convey specific wants is unhoned, especially the more frustrated he gets.  My failure to understand him just adds to his frustration and before I know it, he is in full on the floor tantrum mode.  There is no reason or logic to this.  It is absolute madness.  Hence, my categorical name for this period we are forging into full speed ahead.

Rationally, I know there is usually some reason for these outbursts.  He most likely isn’t even aware himself what it might be.  And the speculation is vast.  It could be that he is hungry.  Thirsty.  Perhaps his two year molars are giving him a hard time that day.  Maybe his shirt is uncomfortable.  Maybe….the list goes on.  Or, where the real madness comes in, the outburst has no cause.  It is not the reaction to anything at all, except the moment hits him and he decides to throw himself on the floor, kick and scream a little, and then, perhaps, get on with his day.  Come to think of it…I feel like doing that sometimes. Maybe it’s not so crazy, after all.  Hmm.

My pediatrician suggests no parental reaction.  She always says, “Don’t encourage any behavior you don’t like by reacting to it.”    I’m actually pretty good at being calm in the midst of his storms.  Most of the time.  It’s the days when the outbursts are mixed with incessant whining, that tax me the most.  It’s hard not to react to the whining, though I give it my best shot.  At home, I actually walk into another room.  I also redirect his attention when he is calm enough.  It becomes the hardest to deal with in the car.  Both of us trapped in a small space.  I can only turn the Hamilton soundtrack up so much.

Mothers who’ve been there…mommys on the same battlefield, I ask you.   What do YOU do?  And if you had a child who never threw tantrums or whined, keep it to yourself.  I don’t even want to know that children like that exist. There isn’t enough Skinny Pop or Two Buck Chuck to get me over that.  Thanks. I know every kid is different, but there must be some common thread for how to proactively deal with this “stage of development.” My saving grace at this point is that I am, in fact, an older mom and I have a degree of patience I never would have had 20 years ago.  I’m not saying younger Moms can’t have patience.  I just know I didn’t have it when I was younger.

The most ironic thing about this stage of “toddler madness,” is how fleeting the madness can be.  I can have a morning like today, where the crabby-ness,  whining and foot stomping outbursts seemed to have such succession it almost became rhythmic.  And then 20 minutes before his nap, my child decides to lovingly stop time.  He sits next to me on the couch, lays his head on my shoulder and lets me stroke his hair.  For a whole 20 minutes! He may have actually purred.  Just when I was ready to give up for the day, he indulges me in his sweet side.  Sneaky.  Unpredictable.  All part of the glorious wonderful madness that is only just beginning.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks so much for reading! Xo

A Mother’s Day

image

I’ve never been one for holidays created by greeting card companies.  Valentine’s Day is the worst.  My husband and I have vowed to never make a big deal of such a day.  We believe all our days should be reflective of our love and commitment, and not for one set day because Hallmark dictates it.  I know Mother’s Day falls under the same sort of quasi-holiday category, but I have to admit, I feel a bit different about it.  To give it equal due, I feel different about Father’s Day, too.  So hear me out.

I am not looking for what the advertisers or the media suggest I want.  There is no bauble, gadget, or knick knack I am longing for.  I don’t want all sorts of money spent on me.   I don’t want a day at the spa or a day all to myself to be pampered.  I don’t want a weekend away, a maid service to clean the whole house, or some cheesy overpriced greeting card written by some stranger.   It’s so much simpler than that.  What I would like to celebrate and have acknowledged, is the fact that I try every single day not to ruin the amazing child that by some natural miracle ended up in my care.  I’d like a Mother’s Day.

What is that you ask? Well, hold onto your yoga pants.  It’s a day where I can sleep uninterrupted for 8+ hours (without having to go to bed at 8pm the night before).  I can take a long luxurious bath instead of a quick shower.  I would be able to have a bowel movement…all by myself….in peace…uninterupted.  Without Thomas the Tank Engine.  Or whilst reading The Little Engine That Could.  It’s a day that for a whole 24 hours I am NOT the person who touches or cleans up another person’s feces.  (To be fair to my husband, he takes on the dirty diapers like a champ when he’s around.)  And, most importantly, it’s a day that my husband showers me with words of encouragement and love from his heart.  Oh, and he makes me breakfast, lunch and dinner. Now these last two requests actually happen on a regular basis in our home, but they are such a nice part of our day that it only makes sense to include them.

Now I realize that as simple as this day seems in theory, the actual execution of these requests may prove more than difficult.  (Lucky for me, my husband is a rock star!) But, perhaps it might seem impossible for some mates.  Hence, the bauble or some fancy high priced item.  The mate thinks, “how can she be upset with me if I give her _______?” And she won’t be.  I mean who gets mad at jewelry or a Coach bag?  The retailers are surely happy.  Hubby is happy because he dodged a mega parenting bullet.  But most likely, it isn’t what she truly wants on this day.  If she is anything like me, it most certainly is not.

So Hallmark, Zales, Pandora and all you other retailers and tall tale fabricators….you aren’t on my radar.  I could care less about what you have to offer.  I don’t know that any woman who stays home everyday with her toddler really wants what you are peddling. As I looked around the library today at story time, I saw the faces of other mothers that seemed to need what I am in need of.   We all most likely just want to remember who we actually are.  To have a moment to acknowledge our own worth unattached to the non stop job of caregiving.  To have a few moments to think of/and for ourselves, all the while knowing that our most precious possession is being cared for by our most precious partner.   It’s that simple.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight.  And remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Hope you get to have a rockin Mother’s Day.  Xo thanks for reading!