Category Archives: Parenting

And then the wave comes crashing down…

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Last night was not one of my finer parenting moments.

It was hitting-rock-bottom awful, in fact. I think it has been brewing for the past few months. I can see myself losing patience much more easily not only with the girls, but just in general. I feel frustrated most of the time and just a little bit out of control. And I have noticed the effect it is having on Em, especially. Her “stern” rants when she is frustrated, her attitude-riddled comments with me, when she yells at her sister – all of it I know she is picking up from me.

So last night.

Have you ever had an experience where you feel like you are outside of your body just watching an event unfold? I felt like that last night. And I was horrified of the monster mom I saw – impatient, yelling, acting like…well, like a 3-year old. After I managed to get the girls into bed, I just went downstairs and wept. I was so upset at myself for handling everything so wrong.

I remembered all my promised whispers when they were born – I can’t imagine ever doing anything to hurt you. I will always love you. I will always take care of you. I will never yell at you or make you feel that you are inconsequential.

I would love to blame being tired, stressed-out, home with the girls by ourselves again, but I can’t. I just completely lost control and failed especially on my last “promise.”. Clearly the book I’m reading (Buddhism for Mothers: A calm approach to caring for yourself and your children) is not working, or I haven’t yet reached the part where I can turn the theories into practicalities.

Thankfully, children wake up each morning only remembering the things they want to remember. They forget and forgive so easily. And since I am the only mother they have ever known, they don’t have a lot to compare it to. This morning they bounded down the stairs, laughing, their little bodies full of energy, ready for a brand-new day.

And, I greeted them with the same enthusiasm and showered love on them as I proposed a little “pact” between all of us. I apologized for being an ogre last night and told them how very sad it made me to be so mean. I also vowed to them that I was going to try much harder to not raise my voice, and then we came up sit a funny signal. Whenever anyone in our house starts to yell, or get angry we are going to give them the “signal.” And give that person an opportunity to settle down and compose themselves.

Em, of course, is a huge cheerleader in the whole experiment. After we had our talk this morning, I had asked Em to do something and she did her little aggravated, “ughhhhh.” I looked at her and said, “Emma Grace…” and she broke out in this huge grin and said, “Hey, Mom! You were supposed to give me our signal!”

The rest of the morning and beginning of the afternoon was beautiful. Like last night never happened. I had obedient, calm girls sharing and being very loving to one another – and me. I felt mindful and focused on them, and found our morning to be so much more enjoyable. I felt like the calm Mommy I want to be. The calm Mommy these two sweet girls deserve.

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I’ll keep you updated on our journey. I feel like we hit the crest of a very big wave last night. Hopefully we are sailing into some calmer seas ahead.

Preparing for the Greatest Job in Life

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I’m a sucker for these “tags.” I am not sure how exciting this is to anybody, and most of my readers, well my family and friends at least, already know my complete resume. But the mere fact that Colleen tagged me, means I cannot say no. So here are eight of the jobs I’ve either had or are currently holding down:

1. Writer and photographer, Leslie Local. The now-defunct newspaper was a 8-ish page, weekly newspaper, chock full of small-town news. I worked there throughout high school and during summers while in college.

2. Bookseller, Waldenbooks. A during college, first-married, help us get by kind-of job. Actually, I LOVED this job. Got to work around books, and people who loved books, and people who wanted to buy books. All. Day. Long. Also took advantage of the added perk of “borrowing” the books, like my own personal library. It was heavenly.

3. Marketing Specialist, D2K. My first “real” job, straight out of college. I started doing whatever the Marketing Manager needed help with; writing, planning trade shows, getting everyone coffee, etc… and then found my niche and started learning graphics programs and design, all on their time. Designed my very first website for them.

4. Art Director, LetsTalk in Miami. Eww…this was one of those jobs. Had a horrible boss, worked a ton of hours, never got the help/money/materials/resources we needed. But the title looked great on a resume and helped me to get the next job.

5. Design & Publications Manager, SF-based law firm. The law firm isn’t there anymore, but it was a pretty low-key nice job. Worked in a building right on the bay, under the Bay Bridge. It was a pretty sweet gig.

6. Creative Strategist, DigitalThink. The company has changed hands and changed names, but this is the job that I think defined me as a “professional” being. I worked with huge clients like Circuit City and Schwab and designed some pretty cool on-line training for many companies. I met most many of my SF friends and a lot of people I freelance for now at DT. It was one of those jobs that you give your “all” to, and occasionally you’ll get some recognition and satisfaction from it. I started there and was employee #12, I think, and when I left it was a publicly traded, an over 200-employee company. Pretty drastic difference, and one crazy ride. I feel very fortunate to have lived it. And happy to be done with it, as well.

7. Design Freelancer. What I’m up to “professionally” these days. I have a few long-term, regular gigs, and am constantly picking up little jobs like logos, websites and invitations. I actually really enjoy being a freelancer. It allows me to pick-and-choose what I want to do, still contribute to the family income, keep up with my skills, and manage my own time. All of which allows me to do my absolute favorite job…

8. Mommy. I really feel that doing all of #1-#7, before I had the girls, is what makes this particular “job” my favorite and makes it the job that I have been most successful at. The other jobs taught me perseverance, persistence, patience, effective communication, creativity, time management, and an appreciation for the best things in life. All of these skills get tested and used each and every day as I plunder about, trying to be Mommy to E. and A. Both of which are two very demanding clients.

But really what better job is there in the world?

—————————–

So now the rules state that I must *tag* some other bloggers. Since I have a whole bunch of friends who have recently forayed into the blogging world, I will “tag” the following and help them get some traffic, too! If you are so inclined, leave a comment letting us know you are playing along, too.

Kim
Kimmer
Michelle
DJ
Vic
Becky

Realizations

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I often make fun of “dropping off the face of the earth” whenever we go home to Michigan and visit family and friends, but apparently I am living in my own little insulated bubble here. We did not have the TV on yesterday (hooray! how I like it, usually) except for a little Noggin in the morning.

So imagine my surprise when I opened the LA Times this morning and saw the headlines about what had happened yesterday at Virginia Tech. It made me sick to my stomach. I’ve been thinking about it all day. Thinking about how scared those poor kids must have been, sitting barricaded in classrooms and dorms, wondering if it was over. Thinking about what in the world that boy must have been feeling to make him do such a horrendous thing. But most of all thinking about the poor families who were just waiting for the news. Hoping and waiting to hear that their son or daughter wasn’t one of the victims, that they were ok.

I simply cannot imagine being in that position. I just think it would be more than I could bear, more than any parent could bear. And the poor families who didn’t hear good news. Instead they were told that their child was one of the unlucky ones. It just makes me want to take my girls and run far, far away. But I’m not sure that there is a place anymore that would make me feel safe.

It is just so hard when something like this happens. It makes you realize, no matter how much you try to protect your children, there are so many things that are out of your control. Sometimes bad things just happen and there isn’t anything you can do about it.

A tiny piece of heaven.

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Well, we clearly are not making it to spin class today. It starts in 20 minutes and both girls are still sleeping.

What?! Still sleeping at nearly 9am, you say? Yeah, it would be a little piece of heaven if we were not UP. ALL. NIGHT.

Another one of those nights. E. is still congested and refuses to blow her nose, which led to a tantrum/screaming match this morning at a little before 4am. Thus, waking darling little A. up, who then assumed since she had been sleeping for over 8 hours – it must be time to get up, right?

J. dealt with E., I finally got A. back in bed around 6am this morning. And they are both sleeping peacefully.

Which brings me to what I really wanted to write about today. (Okay, I wanted to whine a little about the middle-of-the-night antics, too, but it wasn’t supposed to be that long of a whine…sorry!)

I feel like I do a lot of complaining lately. It’s okay, you can say it, “I DO!” So while I was wrestling with A. this morning I was thinking that I just need to realize this moment is fleeting and try to remember the good stuff, the stuff that makes me happy. (I was also thinking that maybe I’d just take them to the park and *forget* to bring them home this morning, but that is another story.)**

So here goes. Ten things that make me smile in the middle of the horribly, long, whiny days (or nights):

1. The way Emma wakes up, her voice all froggy, “Morning, Mama! I had a good sleep.” No matter how she really slept the night before.

2. The days Addie wakes up happy and calls “Mama” from her crib, patiently waiting for me to come get her.

3. How good they both feel curled up on my lap, smelling all lavender-y from the bath and asking for just one more book. A. doesn’t even really ask, she just goes and gets another one, brings it back and says “book!”

4. How A. says “HAND!” when she is trying to get to sleep and gently strokes your fingers until she drifts off.

5. The feel of their incredibly long eyelashes on my cheek, or arm. It is so tickly and sweet.

6.  Just watching them play together. From the back you could never tell they are sisters, one with crazy curls, one stick-straight hair, but they have the same mannerisms and even stick their tongues out to the same side when they are trying to “work” on something.

7. Their “words” for things. Emma’s “nickles” for “nipples” and Addie’s “nakeee” for anybody showing any sort of skin at all.

8. A.’s sweet kisses. Enough said.

9. When E. just hugs me and says, “I love you, Mama.” (And no, she isn’t looking for anything – just because.)

10.  Their sweet smiles, giggles and laughs. If seeing or hearing those can’t bring you out of a funk, I don’t think anything can.

Ahhhh. I feel much better.  And they are stirring. Maybe I’ll go take them to the park and let them run!

**Okay, please know if you don’t know me very well, don’t call DFS I would never do this! I don’t need them looking over my shoulder to see the million of things I do wrong with the girls every day and possibly taking them away. Oh, and also, it would look pretty suspicious if I do in fact ever ACCIDENTALLY leave them somewhere. And the way my brain is going lately…it is quite plausible.

Time According to a Pre-schooler

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E. and my conversation as we “cuddled” in bed tonight, it went something like this:

E: But I’m getting so big now, Mama – I’m a big girl.
M: I know, honey. In a few weeks you are going to be 4! How exciting, huh?
E: And when I am 4, then I’ll be 5, and 6, and 7…
M: How about you just stay 4 for a little while?
E: But Mama, you know I was 1, and then 2, and I’ve already been 3 for a couple minutes!

How true. It feels like merely minutes. I then came out and birthday shopped online, barely able to see my laptop through my teary eyes, for my nearly 4-year old.

(psst…do you like the new header or do you prefer the old one?? I kind of needed to update the photos – although I LOVED the one of Addie, it was taken when she was like 9 months old. May be time for a change. So I thought I’d make it a little more “spring-like” while I was at it. What do you think?)

The End of Laundry As I Know It…

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Well, it isn’t the end…there never seems to be an end to laundry.

I remember vividly when I was pregnant with A. and getting close to my due date and I pulled out a tub (actually there were more like 3 or 4) of Emma’s baby clothes that I had kept in hopes of being able to use them again some day. I opened the lid and the smell of Dreft wafting up was enough to make me have a bit of a hormonal incident. Just that Dreft smell was enough to set me off. I sat and cried huge tears into the tiny little onesies, as I held them and just breathed the sweet smell of Emma’s babyness.

At that time I had been washing Em’s clothes with ours mostly and using my old standby, Tide. But after A. came along I started washing the girls clothes together, mostly because it was just easier, but also because if one girl’s clothes smelled so good with the Dreft, then two girls…well, that would be baby-smell heaven, right?

As a little sidenote, I think laundry is one of my least favorite household chores. (My absolute least favorite is unloading the dishwasher as the girls I lived with in London will attest! And it unfortunately is the one thing I do nearly every single day.) But I LOVE folding the girls’ laundry! All sweet smelling and warm from the dryer. Plus an added bonus – it is all tiny stuff so you end up with piles of clean laundry, and it looks like you did loads and loads – but it doesn’t seem to take nearly as long to fold.

But back to the real story here…

A. is really, I mean really, hard on her clothes. The Dreft just isn’t cutting it anymore. I soak, I bleach, I Zout (which is normally a miracle product) and none of it is really working here. I fear poor little Gabella Ella is not going to get many hand-me-downs from here on out…there just won’t be much left to them when A. is done with them.

And all of this isn’t even the real story…(I do know it isn’t very interesting reading about my minor obsession with Dreft or how incredibly messy my child is.)

The real point here is, I realized that I have about two more loads worth of Dreft left and then it is time to switch over…and I feel incredibly sad.

I feel a weird sort of sadness that I won’t be using baby detergent anymore. Isn’t that the strangest thing you’ve ever heard? (It may be the strangest thing I’ve ever written.) I guess it is just affecting me like this because I know they are growing up. Each week – each DAY, I see them getting a little bit bigger, acting a little bit older, and I guess this crazy little “switching of the detergents” is like a milestone, of some sorts.

I think I finally understand why some moms are so happy to do their kids’ laundry when they bring home piles of it from college, or after being away. It is one of those little things that let us pretend our big kids are still our babies.

Wear as I say, not as I do…

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I’ve been thinking a lot about this topic since I posted the bikini pics of the girls last week. And then I heard a clip where Madonna doesn’t like the jeans her daughter, Lourdes, has been wearing – they are so tight that she can’t bend her knees!

My first reaction upon hearing this was, “Um, ok. But look at her mother! You can pick any of Madonna’s fashion phases and pretty much be guaranteed to not find a good fashion role model.”

And J. just said, “Wait until little Lourdes gets a peek at the “book” her mommy put out.”

But seriously, when I think of the daunting task of raising two girls, I am frightened! (Make that FRIGHTENED! All caps!) I mean when I dress the girls in their cute, little bikinis – am I in fact starting them down that road? I am the one making all of their dress decisions right now and buying their clothes. And I think they just look cute – they are just little girls! But they grow up to be big girls. Big girls who will inevitably take “different” clothes to change into when they get to school, away from my critiquing eyes.

Last weekend when J. and I were out on our “date night” the Paseo was inundated with at least three different cheerleading squads who had apparently just had some sort of “cheer” competition. I couldn’t help but stare a little, and study their actions and dress, and realize…that will be Emma in 6 or 7 years. God help us. I am far from a prude, but this all has me wondering…

How do you draw the line and also teach your girls the difference between being proud of your body and happy with it (a whole other topic, for another day) and being just…well, for lack of a better word…slutty?

Any ideas? Anyone??

Who’s Your Daddy?

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My short stint as being the “favorite” parent is over. Addison is clearly now a Daddy’s Girl, just like Emma. It’s all Daddy, all the time around here. Now when I pick her up in the morning her first words are “Daddy? Daddy. DAAA–DY!” This was the scene yesterday morning and again this morning, too.

daddy’s girls

I can’t say I blame the girls, J. does seem to have a gravitational pull that is comparable to that of the moon’s. You just want to be around him when he is around. Plus he is letting them watch the Three Stooges this particular morning, something they will never get from Mommy.

But (okay, here comes the whining and maybe a little stomping of my feet!) it just isn’t FAIR! I want to be somebody’s favorite, too!

I mean, COME ON! Who actually lugged you around for a total of 20 months, pushed both of your *little* 8-pound bodies into this world, spent a total of 2 years nursing you, changed 9,721 diapers (and this is using a modest 6 diaper per day estimate) and have laundered 832 loads of your laundry (again, based on a very conservative estimate of 4 loads a week!)? I coerce you into eating something other than cheerios and cheese, make sure you are clothed most days (ok, the shopping part is actually fun…maybe you shouldn’t count that), wipe your runny noses, dry your tantrum tears with my t-shirt, make sure you take your vitamins and brush your teeth every day.

Ah, who am I kidding? Given the choice, I don’t think I’d want to be around me either. I am definitely not the “fun” parent here.

Wait…what day is it?

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Try to explain to a 3-year old what a “holiday” is, what a president does, who George Washington was, and why the gym is really packed the days people don’t have to work. All of this as we are running into the gym (late!), so I can try to make it to spin class and work off all the junk I ate this weekend.

Cripes, this parenting stuff is getting harder by the day.

I remember that I was going to be that mom that stopped and patiently explained the answer to whatever question my child asked me. Ha. Ha. HA! That is such a funny line. Just typing it makes gives me a stitch in my side.

The other night Emma asked:

E: What is that hang-y down thing in your throat is called?
Me: Um, I don’t remember. Why?
E: I just want to know what to call it.
Me: (Remembering my promise…)Um, well, how about we will look it up tomorrow?
E: Ok, because when the whale swallowed Nemo’s Dad, you could see it and Dory tried to hold on to it, and….(blah, blah, blah – the story continued on there. I guiltily confess, my listening did not.)
Me: (Thanks, Pixar. Couldn’t include that little fact into your cute little fish movie?) Ok, we’ll figure it out tomorrow.

The next day the elusive word for the “hangy down thing” came to me (epiglottis, in case anyone is interested) and I was so excited to tell Em. After I told her, she just stared at me like, “Um…great. What are you talking about, again?” Clearly the moment was gone and I had missed a prime teaching opportunity.

Figures. Why didn’t I just go out and look it up when she asked?? Is this what I have to look forward to for the next 16 years? You can just call me “always a day late…”

Reason #33 To Keep A Change of Clothing in the Car…

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…Because your daughter might go head-first into a fountain and soak every inch of her clothing (and yours – as you fish her out).

Soaked!

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When you ask her if she fell into the fountain, she laughs and says “Wet!”

And Emma keeps saying “Mom, remember when Addie fell in the water? That was so funny.”

It was I guess…after the fact. But still, not one of my finest parenting moments. In my defense, I was right there next to her. It was just the inertia from her top half toppled her in before I could grab any part of her and stop it from happening.

I will say the swimming lessons are paying off, she barely even skipped a beat or seemed too bothered by it.