Live in the Moment

Over a month ago, I read a blog that sent me into a whirlwind blogging frenzy. Per his usual, my blogging guru Stuart posted an entry that inspired me to exam more closely than I wanted my horrid temper and lack of patience with my children. In Stu's Stand Up Comedy, he describes a situation between his son and himself and the actions of a bored tired boy. While I recognize that Stuart does "lose his stuff" on some things, overall his approach to raising his boys is nearly the polar opposite of mine. He lets his boys pee outside and watch the Simpsons while I go crazy if Z drips on the seat and I don't even let Z watch Sponge Bob let alone the Simpsons. I have a huge appreciation for Stu and his Lovely Bride's more laid back style despite my, as previous entry's have pointed out, up tight ways that just may suffocate my children .

ANYWAY, I wrote the temper/discipline blog as honest as I could and for that reason I suppose I am too chicken to post (Sorry Stu -- not there yet with putting it out there!) Boils down to - I ride Z too hard but in the moment I can't seem to remember that I need to chill. Only after time and I simmer down do I realize how I overreact. I am not a patient mother and again times like right now I am embarrassed and hurt that I would ever yell at Z for the things I do and I don't want him to remember me like that or far worse to become like that. Anyone have ideas on how to remove the cob that is shoved pretty far up my hind end? Kudos to Chad to try and balance my skitzo ways with some stable parenting!

So then my sister in law sends the following Mother's Day Post and provides me with another gentle reminder to take it easy, down a notch, and love my children for time is rushing by me as they grow and change every day. I pray that I will remember to Live in the Moment - not worry about pee dribbles or why Z can't sit still for dinner or gets out of bed for the 10th time to tell me he had MacNCheese for lunch at school. I want to enjoy that Rylee is crawling and cruising instead of groaning in frustration that I can't get anything done because she is getting into things. I truly do want to take time with my children like Stuart did to talk not yell about actions and consequences when the time calls for it and I want to just let it go when in the grand scheme of life it really isn't a big deal.

So the challenge to me and to anyone willing to try -- LIVE IN THE MOMENT!

By Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist and Author: All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.

Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, have all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations --what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.

Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.

When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there some thing wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China . Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.

Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the, 'Remember-When- Mom-Did Hall of Fame.' The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, 'What did you get wrong?'. (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?

But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.

Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.

Ponderance of the Hour

I don't know the right answer to this question so I pose it to you:

If Chad did not notice my smiley behind until the store or say at a cocktail party -- does he mention it to me once we are out at the event and I die of embarrassment or does he not say a thing and let me live in ignorance???

POST SCRIPT ENTRY: OK the winner is STUART TINSLEY of Team Tinsley fame...once again having to point out the obvious to me. Must say a little embarrassing not to have figured it out on my own!!

Overdue Update

Since Rylee has her 9 month appointment on Monday -- I thought I should probably record her six months stats from her appointment in January and Z's 4 year appointment in Feb.








RYLEE


6 months:
26 1/2 inches long
16 1/2 pounds

• Got her first tooth Feb 7th and second March 7th.
• Finally started rolling on Feb 21st.
• Bumper Pad went away on March 8th...see the QPM entry from March and you'll understand
• She is WAY different than Zachary. She is not consistently sleeping through the night. Makes for grouchy parents.
• She can tell the difference between Chad and my parenting styles and adjusts her needs as such. This means she will cry relentlessly if she needs something from me because I am a wimp and will respond. With Chad she needs only giggle and blink because crying with him gets her no where.
• She loves to stand and last weekend did make crawling motions.
• She has a wonderful laugh and she likes to put her finger in your mouth and yank it right back out.
• Anything Zachary does entertains her.
  She does not like having to eat her veggies first. If you bring out her fruit and put it on the table but don't plan on giving it to her until after veggies, there will be a battle.
• Still nursing but this week only once a day and that will go away next week. Still drinking the frozen milk but I am not pumping (YAY!) --- TMI I know

ZACHARY

4 years old
41 inches tall
37 pounds

• His latest thing is to say "My Pleasure." when you thank him for something. Cracks me up.
• He can count to over 30 and can count backwards from 20.
• He is still working out the math situation - we asked him what one plus one is and he said "Eleven" - fair enough one and one can make 11.
• He did get glasses - he is 20/50 in one eye but both eyes have an astigmatism. Dr. hopes that wearing glasses now will help how much he needs them in the future.
• I think his entire diet includes dino chickens (chicken in the shape of dinosaurs), Spiderman Mac-N-Cheese (remember he has never seen the movie!), milk, and a strong desire for candy at every moment. He'll still eat broccoli, green beans, carrots, and corn but it takes some gentle nudging.
• His teacher always have such good things to say about him -- while I am sure they are on some level required to say that I do believe they are right about him being smart, friendly, and a good kid...said the unbiased mother.
• Still working on the staying dry through the night but definitley no accidents during the day. Couldn't tell you the last time we had an issue. However there is something about being in Target that triggers his "gotta go" reflex. I can ask him 15 times before we start shopping if we need to stop at the bathroom but only when the cart is half full is it time.
• Current obsessions include Bolt, Legos (building castles and playing with knights), and occasionally still WallE.

Chad and I are blessed with two very healthy kiddos. We are thankful to God for his blessings.

Happy Easter to all!

Check Out the Intestines!

I know Chad and I have to get on the ball with some real posts but this is still cracking me up and instead of forwarding to all of you via email I am sharing on the blog -- my children will have proof of how geeky I am or actually how geeky their dad is since he sent it to me!!

Slumber in the Belly of the Beast

In the sub-zero wasteland of the planet Hoth, only the strong survive... and of course those lucky Jedi protected by the thick skin of a Tauntaun. Now after exhaustive movie viewing research and analysis ThinkGeek Labs has isolated the exact synthetic compounds needed to re-create Tauntaun fur. What have we done with this supreme knowledge? Created a Tauntaun sleeping bag of course.

This high-quality sleeping bag looks just like a Tauntaun, complete with saddle, internal intestines and glowing lightsaber zipper pull. Now when your kids tell you their favorite Star Wars movie is "Attack of the Clones" you can nestle the wee-ones snug in simulated Tauntaun fur while regaling them with the amazing tale of "Empire Strikes Back".

Use the glowing lightsaber zipper pull on the Tauntaun sleeping bag to illustrate how Han Solo saved Luke Skywalker from certain death in the freezing climate of Hoth by slitting open the belly of a dead Tauntaun and placing Luke inside the stinking (but warm) carcass. If your kids don't change their tune on which Star Wars film is the greatest ever, you can do your best Jar Jar impression until they repent.

Product Features

• Classic Star Wars sleeping bag simulates the warmth of a Tauntaun carcass
• Built-in embroidered Tauntaun head pillow
• Glowing Lightsaber zipper pull
• Great for playing pretend "Save Luke from the Wampa" games
• Teach your children about the best Star Wars movie ever
• Fully Licensed Lucasfilm™ Collectable
• Fits children (and small adults)
• 100% Polyester construction, Machine washable
• Exterior Dimensions - 32" x 60"

check out: http://www.thinkgeek.com/stuff/41/tauntaun.html for original post

This May Qualify as a QPM

Ummmm where is Rylee's head????



Maybe it is time to take out the bumper....

To Spot or Not

So today is the start of Lent -- the 40 day count down to Easter (less Sundays!) and we Catholics start it off with Ash Wednesday. My friend Lady Steele and I went to mass together over lunch and after the service we both turned to each other and said -- "How long do we leave them on?"

This question is one I deal with every year. The first reading during mass is all about not "showing off" your sacrifices, commitments and your suffering. Don't boast about your fasting and yet I leave mass with a big black mark highlighting my trip to mass and my journey into lent.

I feel like the ashes are just a beacon for people to mention that I have dirt, grease, or a smudge of the unknown on my forehead. Then I have to tell them "Oh no it is supposed to be there -- it's not a spot-it's a cross...of ash. It's Ash Wednesday." That then leads to the question I HATE the most -- "So what are you giving up?" If I am giving something up, that is definitely between God and myself. My sacrifices or commitments to do something are very personal even if it is just chocolate or not listening to the radio on the way to work to spend time in prayer. Not really your business. But I am wearing this very obvious black mark on my head that will make people ask.

So that leads me again to the reading -- don't boast or show off -- and yet I wear a big mark that says asks me why this is on my head.

Lady Steele pointed out that we are also to minister and share our faith and this is a perfect time. Explain what Lent is about and how we take time to become closer to God during this season. While she is utterly and completely correct, it doesn't take away that we will get asked "What are you giving up?" Dodging that question doesn't make me popular either. I try in the nicest way possible to say Not Your Business and people either continue to goad - "come on -- what is it?" Or get huffy and say - "I am just asking."

So back to the original question: How long do we leave these on? Mine made it to about 4 pm when a co-worker snickered in my doorway. He said it looked like a giant target on my forehead.

Pass the Valium Please

Back in November my friend Michelle (Ok…so… author) sent me a forward about a little boy named Jamie Bulger. You may or may not remember his story when it happened in 1993 but I assure you if you do any research you will never forget. I have kept this email in my inbox for now three months because it started this blog entry swirling in my head. This three year old little boy is abducted by two ten year old boys and tortured to death. It sucked the breath right out of my body and the horror I felt practically froze me as my imagination created pictures of the unspeakable. It re-enforced my internal struggle of freedom for my son and protection for him – where is that balance? I am sure all of us have heard that God never gives you more than you can handle. So does that mean because I don’t think I can handle my children have something horrific happened to them that they are safe? Or that I need not worry if something does happen to my kids – I can handle it?

From the moment Zachary was born, I have worried about everything - stupid stuff to the more important but definitely everything including raising him to be polite, generous, loving, assertive, and not a weenie doormat. I was (or perhaps should say am) a nerd. Always have been a bit on the social quirky side and definitely not a cool kid. Chad will also tell you he did not have the best of jr high / high school experiences. So our kids receive a double whammy and are already in the negative cool points giving them a harder hill to climb when it comes to making friends, social situations, and basic childhood survival. I am not looking for my kids to win a popularity contest – I want them to be comfortable in their own skin (I know I know - not possible for teenagers) and I do want them to be well liked and not getting wedgies or having ugly things said about them. I am not completely unrealistic – there are growing pains – there will be hurt feelings and lonely feelings because it is a sucky part of the rite of passage but I don’t want my kids to be the geek. I realize as I type how shallow it is but I have to admit it is true. My blog guru wrote about a boy in his son’s class and called him Ralph. I do not want Z or Rylee to be Ralph. Do you think Ralph’s parents know that he is a Ralph?

While both of these incidents are not really related they feed into my insecurities as a parent. I know that I can’t keep my children locked up so that no one abducts them, or no one hurts them physically or emotionally. I realize they will learn and grow with each misstep and each broken heart. I know I can teach them Stranger Danger and to look both ways before crossing the street. I know I can tell them Sticks and Stones and talk about personal space with others. However, I would like it to be clearly outlined please. Tell me how to raise a child that will not be in harm’s way or have a target painted on their back that says please dunk my head in the toilet.

If I promise not to keep him in a bubble, do I get a promise that he will be safe? If I swear that I will let him out of my embrace, can I be assured that at the end of the day he can return to my arms? If I teach him to be conscientious, and gracious, can I be told for sure that he will have strength to stand on his own and not be walked all over. If I encourage him to voice his opinion and believe in himself, can I please have a guaranty that he will not be a bully?

This entry is dripping with drama and perhaps should be two separate entries but there is a part of this production that constantly plays out in my head. I want to keep my kids safe with out stunting them socially. How do you know how tight to hold on? When to step in? When to throw them in the deep end to let them swim? How much is too much and how much is not enough? Has my preoccupation doomed them?

Ugh and sigh….
So how do I stop this obsessive worrying?
Medication?
That’s what I thought.