The Unforgivable Choice

Choices, we make them every day with immense ease. How do you take your coffee? What will you wear? Which kid will you wake first to start the day? What will you make for dinner? These are the easy ones. Then there are the hard ones. How and when do you explain death to your child? Do you tell a friend her husband is a jerk and is disrespectful of her? College fund for kids or retirement? But even these seem like cake when you are confronted with what feels like a lose-lose, simply unforgivable choice.

Choosing between your children. Maybe choice is the wrong word. Prioritizing among your children’s needs certainly may be more accurate (and definitely feels better to say it this way) but in the end if you are the kid who didn’t have the priority need than you simply were the one who wasn’t chosen.
It.Is.That.Simple.
To look into the little, needy face of one of your children who is pleading for your time and attention and turn away to another is so wrong, so unnatural, so painful and despicable feeling. It is just simply unforgivable.

Yet, in the face of this seemingly unforgivable choice what can we do? I spent months choosing between my kids. I was in the hospital, away from two of my kids caring for my third (both while in my body and out) for over two months. I was choosing to care for the one who it seemed needed me the most. I would talk on the phone daily to my other two and listen to their requests for me to come home, to hug me, to have me tuck them in. Over and over again I had to tell them no because I was keeping their baby sister safe. Sometimes that was an acceptable answer for them, they had other things to distract them and they said “okay mama” and went on about their day, other times they didn’t give a rats ass about this supposed baby they saw nothing of; they wanted needed their mother and mama was choosing another over them. 

I like to think that my children each being one of three will in time learn from occasionally being set aside for one another to be empathic, compassionate, generous and will grow a servants heart. I also want them to know they matter and even their smallest need is indeed important, because after all when you are five and need help finding the green hotweel with the red flames not getting it really could cause one to have “the worst life ever.” I like many a mothers have resorted to sharing the real tragedies of the world, the reality that some kids don’t have parents, food, homes, and terminal illness in an attempt to give them a little perspective. But is that really fair? Is it fair to say to a two year old who is asking to be rocked while the baby simultaneously needs to be nursed with some peace and quiet surrounding her, “Listen honey, I know you want mommy right know but you can’t have me. But take joy in the fact I will be with you in 20-30 minutes unlike some children in Africa whose mommies have died of AIDS”  Ok, an over-reaction perhaps, but “just a couple minutes honey” feels the same because even in this small moment I am choosing between my kids.

Enter emotionally overextended Mama. Because I tell one to wait at any given time, I ensure I make up for it later, so needless to say I spend my days running the circle of children attending to physical and emotional needs. Trying in vain to make each feel as important as they truly are to me; to make up for any lost moments we may have had. To remind each one of their uniqueness, their own special place in my heart and that yes, no matter what I have time and space for each of them.  But do I? On whose scale are we measuring, mine or the kids? Because I am sure they are different. Am I overestimating my own importance in their day to day life? Is having the need of a PB&J (NOW!) really about needing mom to care for them or just about getting something in their stomach and would sending them on their own to the fridge for a pre-packaged lunchable suffice?

Mi Prima often tells me I over-analyze, and that all these worries are mine, not the kids. I suppose she is right. To some degree I am creating my own worries and issues.

But when they are grown, will they know? Will they know that every day I CHOSE them, each of them?  Will they know that it is their spirits that keeps my heart beating? Will they know that every day I look deeply into their faces and see every glimmer, every question, every worry and I bury it in my own heart? Will they know that even when I had to choose one of their siblings that they still mattered more than they will ever know?

Perhaps not…until they are a parent themselves that is.
And it is I, not them I suppose, who has to learn to be okay with this.

I'm Baaaaaaaaaaack!

Hello?...Anyone still here?
I hope so. I have missed you my little internet world. However, the immediate needs of my family have not provided time, or more pointedly the emotional energy to write.

So five days after my (albeit testy) last post our little Baby Zen was born just shy of 10 weeks early. She came early in the morning after a couple of hours of contractions. Because I had a complete placenta previa (Google it if you need to) this was an extremely dangerous situation for her and I so ended up with an emergency c-section. Someday I will write in more detail about the full experience of my long hospital stay prior to Zens birth as well as the months that have followed with her in the NICU and all the adjustments our family has been through. These things will take time. I still need time to process and time to find the right words for feelings that are so very overwhelming.

However, we are home now. My beautiful family is all together again, with our new little Baby Zen completing the mix. I wake up each morning with all three children snuggled in with the Hubs and I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

So for now I will offer a simple update on our little family.
The hubs has been the rock star of all fathers these last several months. He had managed all of his usual duties of job, home and community while also being primary caregiver. He continues to keep milk in the fridge, bathrooms clean, diapers changed and the children fed. He is amazing, he is my rock, he is my hero. I am so grateful to the universe that of all the chance moments that have taken place in his life and mine that we have ended up parenting our children together; I simply cannot imaging having my kids raised by any other. Rock Star and Itty Bitty are gaga over baby and also busy figuring out the new dynamics of our family. It is interesting to see their need of reassurance that they still have a place, a special place within our family. Baby Zen spends her life nursing. She has almost tripled her birth weight and is doing stellar across the board. The healing powers of mothers milk is amazing and beautiful. I went a bit against the grain with orders for formula supplements and other things believing that my milk was the most pure healing agent she could be given. I am proud I followed my mama-intuition on this one.

The last few months have introduced my spirit to many things I look forward to writing about and exploring further with you. Things like what really is the role of a mother? Being your childs advocate in the medical world that often gives little validation to the organic nature of mother/child. Processing overwhelming guilt as a mother and how do you NOT allow it to smother your children. Accepting help from others… embracing humility. HORMONES! Bio-identicals and other options for natural healing. And my personal favorite, unrelenting anxiety-ugh. Sounds like fun huh? Ok, fun may be a stretch, but if you have read my space long enough, you know my writing will still be peppered with fun little stories of poop, vomit, and all sorts of inappropriateness!

Stay tuned, I have missed you my friends!

A Village; Every Family Needs One

Hello my friends! So life has been a bit busy for my family the last month. Well, busy may not be the right word – perhaps slowed to a standstill? I have been on complete bed rest keeping our little baby safe and growing until she can safely be born. Needless to say our family has been growing through many changes and modifications to our new (although temporary) way of living.

All was going okay…then…

As I have shared before I am a recovering “Type A” personality. I say recovering because I live in constant pursuit to be present in the moment and not micromanage my family. Eh, I am a work in progress. I do really well when things of course are going smoothly (otherwise known as “Amy’s Way”), but when life throws me a curve ball my gut reaction is to grab hold of my family and life and start owning and organizing all the pieces until I am comfortable again.

Last week life threw me a doozy. Due to increased complications with my pregnancy I have landed in the hospital until baby arrives (which will hopefully not be for another 6-8 weeks). Yep, that’s right, two months in the hospital.

The first 12 hours following my admission and being told I was here for the long haul are somewhat a blur of panic, crying and attempting to bribe doctors into springing me. Then something amazing started to happen. I started getting calls, texts, emails and Facebook messages from friends, neighbors, my husband’s co-workers, and our church family all reassuring me that my family would be taken care of and I could relax.

My family had become the center of our village. My children are being loved, hugged, reassured, played with and fed. Our home is being kept clean and laundry done. Our refrigerator stocked. The physical and emotional needs of my family are being cared for – by our very own village. By the end of the second day of my hospitalization I realized I had a new appreciation for what it means to have a village. In a very short period of time many things became apparent to me about the genuine love and goodness of others, about the resiliency of my family and believe it or not, I am not the only mother in town who knows how to do laundry, shop, scrub a toilet, make a yummy and nutritious lunch and even hug my kids. Go figure. But perhaps the greatest insight I have gained is realizing what a gift this experience is for my kids. Of course my initial reaction was “how will my family survive without me?” (yeah-yeah, I know – arrogant). However, I am seeing now that my children are learning that there is a community of people who love and care about them and will always help them when they need it. There will always be a loving teacher, neighbor, a playmates mom, or someone sitting next to them in church on Sunday who will offer a hug and reassurance that they are loved and safe.

My family is living within the love of our village. Thank you for all you are giving our home and hearts.

P.S. Have your own village story you want to share? I’d love to read about it. Really, I would. I have the time.

My Children, My Teachers

Oh my beautiful Rock Star and Itty Bitty – you have filled me and challenged me so much this week!
I was greatly challenged to remember that your needs are ever evolving, you are growing and changing both physically and emotionally; you need room, permission, and love as you move through your new feelings and questions.

This week you have reminded me that you have the right to move and feel on your terms. I cannot and should not force you to think and feel anything. You reaffirmed the lesson that I must spend time being still and listening to you; to your cries, your laughter, your questions, your silence.

Rock Star, you ask something important of me this week. I have learned that when I make assumptions towards your actions, feelings and thoughts is hurtful to you. You want to be listened to, to be fully and deeply heard. I need to validate your words and ideas. When you are given the respect of a whole listener you are in turn able to be open in your mind and heart.

Itty Bitty, my ever-growing independent one. I have spent many hours lately trying to figure out where your feelings of (what appear to be) anger and frustration are coming from and I was pleased this week when your daddy and I became aware that you want your space. You want your hugs and kisses, to be picked up and held, to have your space shared by others to be on your terms. You are transitioning from a baby who is content to explore the world in the arms of another and now you want to be free, you want your space, room to watch, listen and feel.

I have had to look at some of my time this week and choose to realize they were not bad days but days in which there was much to learn; perhaps this alone was my greatest lesson. I must set anger and frustration aside and search for what is to be gained; to realize there is always someone, something that is trying to communicate with me. To accept this I must keep my spirit open and anger only closes me off.

Thank you my little teachers. Thank you for not only helping me be a better mother to you but a better human being. I love you without measure.

My Little Fighter

Last night after a very fun and active afternoon and evening I did something I hate doing. I yelled. I mean I really yelled. It was one of those over-the-top emotional, exhausted and extremely immature reactions to something small. It was the kind of reaction and behavior that leaves me feeling guilty, ashamed, regretful and fearful. The worst part is Rock Star was the recipient.

But here is the good part. I shouted and rather than cry, retreat, run away from me or any other reaction of defeat he went toe to toe with me. He shouted right back; he told me I was being mean and needed to stop shouting, he told me I was being rude. He told me he didn’t like me.

About this time the phone rang and caller ID said it was the hubs. I told Rock Star to go talk to his dad. We each spoke to daddy for a couple of minutes which was just long enough for us both to regain our composure. I immediately told Rock Star we needed to talk and I apologized for my behavior. I apologized for shouting, for losing my temper, for trying to make him feel bad. I told him I was tired and a little overwhelmed and I made a really bad choice in how to deal with it. He too apologized for shouting and saying mean things, he then started laughing and told me I was acting like I was “cookoo in my coconut” from here we both started laughing at ourselves, each other and our ridiculous behavior.

As I was reflecting back on this later that night, I realized how proud and happy I was he fought back. It was affirmation he has self-worth and he knows right from wrong, even when it is an adult. He knew my behavior and reaction was out of line and he was not about to be victimized by it. He was right, he didn’t like me right then – and he shouldn’t have. I didn’t like myself! It makes me feel confident that as he goes farther into the world without his daddy and I always there he will know he has the right to stick up for himself, to never let anyone take their anger or inappropriate behavior out on him. He knows he deserves kindness and respect.

Perhaps the title of this post is wrong. The truth is he is not a fighter, he is kind and loving. He is thoughtful and insightful and he is conscientious of the needs and feeling of others. But he is angered by injustice, by people being hurt or taken advantage of. I love that he is driven to fight for what is right, for what he and others need and deserve. I don’t just love this child, I respect and admire him.

Groundhogs Day

 Do you ever feel like you are living the same day over and over? I do. I get in these phases where it seems every day is exactly like the rest. Get-up, cook, clean, play with kids, cook, clean, errands, clean/laundry, cook, family time, clean, baths, bed. Not that this is a bad day, it is just so damn repetitive sometimes.

I have this belief that life should be a constant cycle of moments and experiences that give us something, an opportunity to learn, feel, enjoy – whatever. I want my kids to crawl into bed each night feeling like the day was really worth living. The truth is I want this for myself too. And here is the thing, I am not talking about “activities” or running around to play groups, kids play-warehouses, or other stimulate and entertain sort of things. I am talking about the ability to be really, really present in every moment of the day, to fulfill the need or reap the gift of it. Sometimes I find myself living and operating on autopilot. I loathe feeling robotic and emotionless about my time.

Is it realistic that I feel connected and present while doing the laundry and mopping floors? My immediate logical response is, "No Amy, lower your expectations.” But then I think, why not? While reading a book on Buddhism (forgive me as I have read so many I forget exactly which one it was!) the author spoke of eating a repetitive, limited diet and how even though he ate the same bowl of rice each day he was able to think of the life that went into providing this meal for him; the growth of the plant, the hands that harvested and prepared it – he was connected and in the moment. So is it unreasonable to desire this while doing the laundry?

Oh, but as with all things done in the midst of raising and tending to the needs of small children priorities must be set. So perhaps my laundry will remain mundane for a bit longer and I can focus on other things like making time with books, art even sleep a more beautiful experience for my kids and I.

I feel so very far from where I want to be, from the peaceful, settled place I want my spirit to be. I must remember this is a journey, not a destination and give myself space to grow and experience.

Being of Service

My latest article in the The Pointe newspaper.

Know It All

This morning’s first conversation:
(I was in the back of my closet trying in vain to find something that didn’t make me look as big as a house and I hear little people sneaking in and hiding in the hubs part of the closet)…

Me: Get out of my closet you monsters (growl sounds)
Itty Bitty: (Laughter) Yep, Yep (her new response to everything)
Rock Star: How did you know we were in here? You are all the way over there and didn’t even turn around!?
Me: I know everything even when I know nothing.

Yep. That is what I said at 7:05am. I know everything even when I know nothing. What in the hell does that even mean? The best part? Rock Stars response was, “Wow!” with wide eyes and looking at me like I was Buzz Lightyear in the flesh and blood.
It’s gonna be a great day friends!

Toting

If you are a member of my family this is a word you know well. I have an uncle who is notorious for accusing family members of “toting” his stuff. What this means is he leaves his stuff lying around, someone (usually…okay always, my aunt) puts it away and then he turns into a shouting banshee demanding to know who toted his stuff. None of us mind being accused of stealing his stuff, we all find it fairly funny. The only one who I think it bugs is his middle child who gets ruffled because she actually is a thief. If you need proof, read about her here and you will no doubt see that she is the type of person who if your cool shirt, nail polish or high heels go missing her room is the one to check. (close your mouth Nik, you know it's true) Geez...my whole family is certifiable.
Anyway, I digress.
So today I heard myself say to my kids…and I am not kidding you, “If you kids don’t quit toting stuff out of my purse I am going to lose my mind!” Awe man! As soon as the words were out of my mouth I wanted to slap myself.
Then later ,while cleaning the fridge, I found my missing black and silver dangle earring. Yes, you read that right, it was in the fridge. I also had to call my cell phone three times today to locate it while in the house. I am pretty sure I can forget about ever finding my missing black and white flip-flop, my favorite pen or that tube of new lipstick I bought over a year ago and only used twice. This irks me because I am the one who cleans everyone else’s stuff. No one else in this house ever permanently loses stuff and yet they leave it laying everywhere; I put my stuff away and somehow it goes missing.

Darn those toters!
And darn my uncle for turning me into him…just when I thought I was in the clear.

ONE

Ever have one of those parenting moments when you know you are making a huge mistake but you have that internal shrug and “eh” reaction? Me? Yeah, about three times a day.

I hear it first. Silence followed by “the” giggle-times two. The naughty laughter is then followed by the patter of fast sneaking little feet running from one spot to the last no doubt toting something that should not be touched. I know what is happening: messes are being made, things are being shoved into the toilet, lotion bottles are being emptied, diaper cream is being smeared head-to-toe, markers have been discovered, food is being taken on the carpet, clothes are being stripped off (yes, my kids LOVE to streak), I know there is all around no-good shenanigans happening and yet I choose to ignore. I know my work will be doubled (at least) when I finally am forced to deal with it, I know something will probably get wrecked, I know I will be questioned by the hubs as to how “this” happened and yet I still ignore.

Why? What is wrong with me?
Am I lazy or just desperate for 5 minutes without a little person up my ass?

Last night I was up battling nausea and went into the downstairs guest bath, well I tried. I couldn’t quite open the door. Not a good sign. When I finally wiggled my way in I was faced with the harsh reality of my choice to ignore the naughty; I suddenly remembered a phone call earlier that afternoon when I knew they were in the bathroom but I chose to score a few minutes of uninterrupted talk and clearly forgot to go survey the damage after my call. As I stood in a sea of clothes, hangers, shoes, toys, cookies, a half eaten apple, a few DVD’s, books, diapers (clean, thank God), and of course the signature full roll of toilet paper soaking in the toilet I wanted to cry. I felt so guilty for being a lazy mom.

Then I realized it was 3am and I was cleaning a bathroom. Lazy my ass.
There are two of them. They work at warp speed. They are super-human. There is only one of me.

ME ONE.
THEM MAAANY.

I am simply outnumbered.

Mommy Misdemeanors

I am currently hiding out avoiding charges for the following crimes over the last few days. Yes, I have no doubt been on a mommy crime spree…

Theft:
I swiped all the purple and red Skittles for myself from the package before doling them out.

Driving Under the Influence:
...of exhaustion and severe snack passing-out distractions.

Disorderly Conduct:
I stood in the kitchen screaming and squawking about ALL of the three lower pantry shelves being emptied by little people, about the laundry AGAIN being pulled out the baskets AFTER being folded and about the full roll of toilet paper being thrown in the toilet. Shrieking decibels far exceeded that permitted within city limits.

Vandalism:
Pulled down and threw out the 147 pieces of scribbled on paper scotch-taped all over the house while the “decorators” were napping. The artist and owner of this art made sure I was aware of the pain and suffering I had caused by informing me I had “destroyed masterpieces and taken away his feelings.”

Some other, and perhaps more serious crimes, include:

Forcing Hard Labor out of the Disabled:
Apparently, any part of a body that has a band-aid on it is rendered useless and without all functioning body parts it is “so-bad mean” of me to make the disabled individual clean up their toys.

Starving the Weak:
Yes, it is true. I refused to provide Pringles 8 minutes after leaving the breakfast table. This resulted in the accusation that I was “starving us kids to death!”

And of course my personal favorite…

Cruel and Unusual Punishment:
This one I plead guilty to. Yes, I ended outside playtime and insisted on baths…with hair washing and soap.

So there you have it little ones, I am one bad ass mommy. Bring it.

Heartbeats and pickles make for a great day

Today we were finally able to hear our little ones heartbeat. I literally felt my soul melt from the release of tension. Although we have had a rocky start it seems baby is now doing well, growing and finally allowing us to know she (no, we do not know yet – just my mama gut) is well. It was amazing how I left the doc’s office with my two kids in tow at 1:30, which is normally when I am crashing on the couch praying for an hour of sleep, and I was FULL of energy. I felt like I was walking on air. My baby was well, Rock Star and Itty Bitty were excited to hear and see their new baby (although Itty Bitty kept looking around the room looking for the “bebe?”) and the sun was shining. So I decided to take the kids out for the afternoon; we played in a bookstore, played in Pottery Barn for Kids and ate ice cream.
We then came home and while Itty Bitty napped and Rock Star and the hubs flew a kite, I ate a “Big Papa” pickle – it was the size of a full grown cucumber. It really has been a wonderful day.

No really, this was my day. For real.

Sometimes there is a day that goes so ass backwards it leaves me wondering the following morning if the day really happened or if it was a terrible, terrible dream. Yesterday was one of those days. The hubs turned 40 and I had the best of plans – I should have known the shit would hit the fan simply based on the fact I had a plan…

The hubs office was throwing a luncheon for him and the kids and I were attending as a surprise. This meant we had to be there on time. Yep, if you are keeping track that is two strikes against me, a plan and a deadline. We HAD to leave the house my 10:30. Hubs was arriving at the gathering at 11:30, we have a solid 45 minute drive and needed to get into the location and settled before 11:30. Right, as if.

10:05 kids dressed, hair styled and settled in their rooms with books. I however still had not gotten into the shower yet.
10:10 exit shower to find both kids covered, yes covered in diaper cream. Rock star thought it would be relaxing if he put lotion on himself and the baby. How nice of him.
10:10-10:15 five very precious minutes spent yelling, and then yelling a little more.
10:15 wipe down two kids, change clothes and restyle Itty Bitty’s (formerly very cute and fluffy) hair into a greased slicked ponytail.
10:25 throw on my clothes; pack up some make-up as it will have to be applied in the car.
10:30 gathering items to walk out the door and catch the smell. Yep, full-blown poop blowout all over Itty Bitty. Enter round three of cleaning and dressing the baby.
10:40 I’m am now getting nailed with morning sickness. Of course. Barf, Barf, Barf.
10:50 Head to car, which of course is parked in the driveway, not in the garage and it is pouring cats and dogs. Without fail, in the haste and hustle and bustle of getting the kids to the car Rock Star wipes out…in mud.
Let’s just say we were slightly late for the party. But the good news is, the only person who runs more late than I is the hubs.

The really sick thing? The morning was the best part of the day. After lunch I had a million birthday dinner errands to run, yeah with two kids in a thunderstorm. The house was of course a wreck and we were having company for dinner. You know how there is two kinds of guests, the ones who really know how you live and don’t mind clearing a spot of the couch to sit or refilling the toilet paper holder themselves and then there are those who need the house to be in June Cleaver order when they arrive? I was hosting the second group.

Yep, that was my very, oh so very, real day.

Digging Deep

A few posts ago Mommy on Fire left me a comment telling me to “dig deep” when I had shared I was struggling with sharing some feelings and fearing letting too much hang out for the world (or 12 readers anyway) to read. Well MoF…here goes.

We recently found out we would be blessed with our third child later this year. I am not sure there is ever a joy as great, as pure and indescribable as what is felt when you learn this news. Overwhelming does not even really come close. I am always left feeling small, amazed that I am being given something so huge, beyond scale or measure. I look everyday and Rock Star and Itty Bitty and cannot believe I live a life that is this wonderful. But motherhood, my journey in particular, has not been without sorrow. I have endured miscarriages and significant challenges with my body and reproductive system. Several years ago I ran a support group for women who have struggled with miscarriage and infertility – it was heart wrenching.

I have spent years being angry at my body for not doing what it is “supposed” to do. There is something so unnatural, so very, very wrong about a mother’s body turning on its own child. I have often felt as though my body was separate from my spirit and that it was waging war on my children. I have hated this body. After the journey of carry Itty Bitty and my body holding out and protecting her against all odds I began t forgive it. I was learning to again connect to it and even have gratitude for it. Perhaps my anger at my body is a form of guilt. There is no question I feel guilty that I could not protect all my children and bring each of them into this world healthy and strong. The questions are endless. What could I have done? Did I eat something? I had a drink, took cold medicine and lifted heavy things before I knew. Should I not be a mother? Am I not a good mother? Am I not capable of being a mother? Is God trying to teach me something? Is this karma for how I have mistreated people in my life? These are not logical questions – they are worse. They are fears of the heart.

So yesterday I had my first sonogram and it appears our little one is not doing well. We are sort of in this phase of limbo right now just waiting; waiting for blood work results, waiting for…an outcome. I feel powerless. My baby inside of me is struggling for life, I carry them with me and yet there is absolutely nothing I can do.

I am looking at the sweet faces of Rock Star and Itty Bitty and I know anything is possible. I know miracles exist. I also know heartbreak can be a heartbeat away. I am holding my breath. I am making breakfast, vacuuming the floors, changing diapers, will celebrate my birthday today and laugh with my kids, all while holding my breath.

I have been in this place before yet I am paralyzed with fear and sadness. I have no idea what to do.

I have the child every mother (i.e. COOK) dreams of, but….

Since Rock Star was born I prided myself on never making “kid-friendly” meals. We cook real food around here and I never “hide” veggies in anything; I believe in fostering a healthy appreciation for good foods. By age two my first born was asking for couscous, broccoli and fresh parmesan for lunch. Although both my kids have a mild aversion to meat (which pleases me just fine) they love any lentil, pasta, fruit, vegetable and dairy product (Rock Star has quite the palette for cheeses) set before them. I have a firm rule you never have to like or eat more than one bit of anything; but we will try EVERYTHING with joy and wild abandon. I think the reassurance of knowing they have the final say on what they eat allows them to be more adventurous and anxious to try new things (and of course I am confident because they are only given good choices so there is no wrong choice on their part). I rarely get a “GAG!” but when I do I honor it.

This afternoon Rock Star once again ask for “a snack I have never had before” this kid loves trying new foods. Winter proved to be a difficult time for us as I typically rely on fresh fruits and veggies to fulfill snack time. Now that he is wanting to try something new every day, well lets just say this blessing of wonderful, healthy eaters is beginning to be a bit overwhelming.

My husband when ask what he would like for dinner often replies, “something different and unique” which prior to kids I responded with, “Great! Get your shoes and lets head out!” but now with two kids and a hubby who all crave new and unique foods on a regular basis I am hitting a wall.

Enter My Need…

Please share your best and most fun recipe and/or snack idea. The more unique the better, the more ingredients the better, and the more colorful the better. Healthy is of course key.

Can’t wait to see what you have!

Heavy Heart and Refocusing

Yesterday was one of those days where outside things made my heart heavy. Realization of damaged relationships, scary news for family I love deeply, dealing with an overscheduled week, physically ill, kids who were over tired from long nights of scary weather all left me feeling overwhelmed and powerless by the end of the day. I was awake most of the night, thinking, worrying, and trying in vain to come up with a quick “fix” for all of these perceived problems. At some point around 3am my mind and body began to weaken enough that I had no choice but to surrender to the realization that life circumstances are what they are – for me and others and all the lost sleep and worry in the world will not change them. So, deep breath, and now a day focused on the basics.

-With compassion and personal responsibility I believe in the ability to heal true friendships.
-My home, help and care are open and available to my family. Period. I need not worry about their safety and wellbeing, although life may require changes of them they are strong and capable and at the end of the day have people they can rely on.
-Appointments can be cancelled.
-I have the ability to work with my body to heal it, I just need to be patient and give it time.
-NAPS!

I will live with the karma I create today. What do I want to live with tomorrow? Choices are everything.

Your Mothering Heart Has a Home

To My Lovely and Dear Friend,

A while ago I wrote this, actually it really wasn’t that long ago. I was feeling, as you can tell alone in the world of parenting, both for my choices and for the needs of my children. I reached out to a few moms whose parenting styles I admired. They were kind and loving mothers whose patience seemed endless. I cried and I shared my struggles and fears; there words and support were comforting and in the end I pulled my children close to me and the hubs and I agreed to keep them protected within us a bit longer.

Never forget, your child was given to YOU for a reason, because you are the mother they need. You have the intelligence, heart and spirit to care for, love, protect and raise your child with what they need. Other parents with their philosophies are not raising your child – because their way is not what your child needs. You were called to raise your child; this was not a whimsical decision on Gods part. Be faithful to this calling, even in the face of others who wish to question and belittle your work.

After my own journey into “lonely parenting” and making the commitment that I would do what was right for my children even if it meant I had no friends in the process, I suddenly found myself surrounded by mothers who are raising children like mine. Children who suffer from anxiety when separated too early from home and the comfort and reassurance of Mama and Daddy, who are their best selves when they are given freedom of choice and expression and who always, always want to know we are here whenever they call for us. I could make choices that would make parenting easier. I could kick my kids out of our bed, I could insist they go to off to toddlerville pre-pre-education to learn to be socialized like puppies and I could tell them what they will do and when verses living a child-led lifestyle, but hey, then my kids would just be manufactured mini me’s and I like my kids too much to completely alter their spirits.

How are our children supposed to be amazing if we never let them BE amazing? And let’s not forget, becoming a truly amazing grown-up comes with some growing pains (you know, the loud, scary, needy, rambunctious, fit-throwing, co-sleeping, endless question asking, negotiating every rule in the book kind of pains!)

Welcome to the fold my friend.

I Love My Hubs

I am not sure I say this enough in general, but I love my hubs. He is an outstanding man in many ways. One of which is he allows me to be me; this can be difficult because I change my ideas, thoughts, and activities often. I am hard to keep up with to say the least. One of the major changes I have made in recent months is my opinions on sleep sharing (or the “Family Bed”). When Rock Star was born he was of course in our room the first several weeks but by three months he was sleeping soundly all night and had been transitioned into his own room without any issues. This lasted until he was three and got the boot out of the crib because his baby sister was on her way. Prior to this he slept peacefully every night and seemed to simple love his crib. We would rock him each night, but about the time he was drifting off he would reach for his crib and enjoyed snuggling in. Enter Itty Bitty.
From the first moments of entering the world Itty Bitty wanted to curl up into my neck. She would inhale my scent deeply and fall into a nice deep sleep. She has never been fond of sleeping alone. At this same time we were still in transition mode of getting Rock Star out of the crib (and nursery) and into his Big Boy Bed/Room. He was not going for it. On a few desperate occasions we would allow him back into the crib and he would smile and fall asleep. He loved the security of that special place.
Forward 16 months…
New family home, new bedrooms and beds, resulting in two kids in Mama and Daddy-O’s bed every night. So I started researching the pro’s and con’s on sharing sleep with your kids and found the benefits to your children to be overwhelming. And once again Mama began changing the way things happen around here. Bedtime has become less about getting the kids off to sleep so we can enjoy our evening and more about offering a peaceful and reassuring end to our kids day which often means lots of snuggling, reading, music and laying with our kids as they fall asleep (i.e. time). I have had to stop looking at this as a “process” and just part of our life, like all the other parenting things we do. Our children sleep wonderfully when they are with us. I sleep better knowing they feel safe and secure and when they are next to us in a deep slumber my heart busts wide open. However, the hubs is now two little bodies away from me at night, and is often shoved to the far 6 (6 ½ on a good night) inches of the bed. He is not sleeping so well. Last night I enjoyed having Rock Star sleep with his head on my belly most of the night, not thinking that this meant his feet were shoved into the ribcage of the hubs. Ouch. Itty Bitty likes to lay on Daddy’s head and hold his nose like a handle (while me she just curls up against my chest). Yep, no doubt about it, Daddy is getting the raw deal here. Not to mention after a restless night for parents I get to hang out in PJ’s watching movies, reading and doing puzzles while he is up, showered, dressed and off to the office where he has to be a grown-up. ugh.

So, My Dear Hubs,
I thank you for being the kind of father to our kids, and partner to me, that makes so many sacrifices for the well being of our family. I know you give up a great many things for us, the least of which is sleep and much chick-a-bow-bow with me. I know we are raising wonderful, loving, secure children and all the time and energy we are giving them know, no matter how tired we are, is in their best interest and what we are called to do. Thank you for being my partner, support and greatest love while on this journey of parenthood.
I love you deeply, unconditionally and forever,
A.

The Big Dog Decision

If you are a new reader read this before you go any further.
Yes, this is the story of the Damn Dog, which I am happy to say is no longer with us. He found a nice lady who had another damn dog just like him who needed a friend. Angel or Insane woman, not sure; I am just glad the little shit is gone.
Buuuut now, here we go again. Rock Star has been begging for a nice dog that he can play with and that will sleep in his room with him. Rock Star (as does Itty Bitty) sleep with us; if they do not start there they end up there before the morning arrives. Rock Star believes he would love his big boy room if he had a friend, “you know mom, like a dog.”
Me? I would rather have kids in my bed than a dog in the house. But as usual I am a sucker for my kids. And yes I know, Rock Star will not sleep in his room, we will just be adding a dog to our bed. Although I am a lover of earth and animals, I prefer not to domesticate them. So this morning I am reading the paper and come across:
Free to a good home. Border Collie/German Sheppard mix. 3yrs old. Very well behaved, house broke. Good with kids.
Sigh. How can I not call? So I call and turns out the owner is actually a neighbor that only lives a few houses away! (This is a large metro paper BTW, so chances of something like this are slim). It now seems meant to be. Oh, and also, the dog has the same name as the ONLY dog the hubs and I had pre-kids that was wonderful.
Called the hubs – DEAD. SILENCE.
Rock Star begging.
Hubs agrees to a “sleep-over” for a trial run.
I will be reading I Wanna Iguana this afternoon to the kids as a reminder of pet responsibility and what “trial basis” means.
I am an idiot. What am I about to do?

Quick, talk me out of it!

Readers of My Words

Sometimes I find myself getting caught up in tracking hits to my blog and worrying as to why I cannot get any of you to interact with me or each other via comments. Yes, it has bugged me. I read this other blog which is so damn boring it makes me cry but this chick gets over a thousand hits a day and has close to 20 comments for every post. Some aren’t even posts; one time there was a shopping list – OF GROCERIES! WTF!? And yes, people commented. “Oh, I like that brand of crackers too!” Are you kidding me!? I keep reading it trying to figure out what the appeal is. I can only guess she has a large family who are home-bound. I have a large family too, but unfortunately they have lives.

So anyway, I it got me thinking, what is my real purpose of blogging? Is it a personal outlet? A journal of family events? An update for friends and family? Or am I trying to market myself in some way – ultimately to make some cash? My initial response is, all of the above. But if I am completely honest, I think I may have a higher opinion of myself than others do. I think what I have to say is insightful, funny and relevant. And while I am at it I will also admit that because I find the things I have to say important I have felt entitled to readers. And income.
How shameful.
I find the events and day-to-day antics of my life hilarious, but the truth is, I don’t think my experiences are that different than any other SAHM and my stories any different from the other thousands of mommyblogs out there. So I started researching blogs, the top 50 mommybloggers, finding out who was doing what, reading tutorials on managing a successful blog, how to work the PR scene….ugh. Corporate greediness, yelling, shouting, infighting – all around internet temper tantrums with a gimmie, gimmie mine mentality. Nauseating.

Then I realized what my favorite blogs are. They are not the ones with a million sponsors and advertisements splashed all over them. They are quiet little musings of mothers, artists, poets and crafters. They share with their readers the sweet and funny stories of their lives, their broken hearts, their goals and triumphs. Occasionally they rant about the sometimes hurtful and crazy world in which we live, but are ultimately women committed to living in the good with their friends and families. They are honest writers. They are transparent.

I am inspired. The reality of my life is I left a well paying corporate job to stay home with my children and have my life work now be about them. I need to give myself the gift of time and exception from making a buck and remember what this season in my life is about. Being a good mother, wife, friend, being healthy both physically and mentally. Acknowledging this, the journey of my life can be the only focus of my writing. Readers or not.

Someday, my children will read my words. They are the readers I care about. They are the ones who I really want to feel my words and wear them in their hearts.