Renaming the Ages

I remember when I was pregnant with my first, I was always warned of the “terrible two’s.”  “Watch out,” they would say.  I feared the terrible two’s like getting a flat tire, like somehow you won’t be prepared for it and you won’t know what to do, i.e.…the tantrums in public, the whines and cries.  How will I stop it?  I mean, how embarrassing, right?!  The one way you can make yourself look like an unfit mother; take your 2 year old child out during the witching hour and if he/she skipped a nap.  CRASH AND BURN!

But, the thing is I sailed through the terrible two’s with my first.  She rarely threw tantrums in public.  The worst she would do was drop to her knees in the middle of the mall if she didn’t get what she wanted.  She wouldn’t cry.  She would just drop to her knees.  No big deal.  I would pick her up and walk out.  Now my second…that is another story.  She does the whole bit.  She rolls around, kicks her legs, and cries tears like she won’t have any left ever again.  For the love of God!  But for some reason, I don’t take it seriously.  I kind of laugh it off.  You have to.  Otherwise, these things can and will eat you alive.  We can’t take it as seriously because they are still babies.  They are just starting to truly ‘get it.’  Sincerely, I don’t find the two’s to be terrible.  I find them to be tolerable.  As long as you keep a sense of humor, I am renaming the ‘terrible two’s,’ the TOLERABLE TWO’S.  We are grown adults.  They are babies.  We can take it. 

Bring on the three’s…

SASS!  SPUNK!  TALK-BACK!  What do they call the three’s?  I call them the F’ING THREE’S!

I warned my friend with 2 year old twins.  “Just wait,” I said.  I hate to be the person that says, “Just wait.”  Who likes her?  But, I had to warn her.  At 3, they get it, they know what they want, and they are NOT afraid to fight for it.  They fight with you, with siblings, with friends, with the cashier at the grocery store…anyone.  They want what they want.  Everything is a battle.  Life is a struggle.  It is actually pretty scary! 

I love my one friend that always talked about “age appropriate behavior.”  She always made me feel better. 

“Oh, she is kicking you at bath time…age appropriate.” 

“You know, the refusal to eat is age appropriate behavior.” 

“She won’t go to bed?  Age appropriate.”

That could be my favorite line.  Chalk it up.  You know what, at the time some things seemed hopeless.  At times, I felt like a terrible mother.  How could I raise a human being that does THAT?!  But now I know…they grow out of it.  They grow into something so beautiful and wonderful that I call, “The FANTASTIC FOUR’S!”

“Mommy, I think putting up the Christmas tree with my family is the best thing ever,” my 4 year old said on Sunday.  “The lights are so gorgeous and the ornaments are so sparkly.”  Fantastic!  Positive and happy.  Making deals.  Lots of smiles.  “I’m tired,” she said last night, “I’m ready for bed.”  GOLDEN!  Don’t get me wrong, there are still tantrums and overtired meltdowns.  We still have the TUDE, but on the whole, I would say, this is the best age so far.  I’m having a ball with my 4 year old.  I can’t wait to see what is next!  Tell me it just gets better.  I think it does. 

In the end, there are wonderful things about every age that is for sure.  But, we do have to “get through” some things to come out on the other side.  We have to get through the ‘tolerable two’s’ and fight with the “F’ING THREE’s” and combat the “FANTASTIC FOUR’S.”  We get through them and we come out smiling on the other end.  We say to ourselves, “looking back, that wasn’t so bad.”  And, we know in our hearts, the best is yet to come…

Who knows, maybe the five’s are fabulous?!  But, it seems to me, after years 1-4, nobody is counting anymore. 

 

Thankful for No

I took my 2 girls to get their hair cut at this very cute little girly place that is a salon and spa for young girls and specializes in birthday parties.  A birthday party was finishing up when we got there to get their hair trimmed.  The birthday girl and her mom were packing up to leave when the little 7 year old girl started throwing a full out, grunting and screaming tantrum.  The growls sounded like something out of a scary movie.  She screamed, stomped her feet, and yelled, “I want my presents!”  She said this as she rolled a suitcase filled with American Girl Dolls.  She dragged the dolls as she squealed and screeched at her mother.  My girls and I just watched.  We couldn’t look away.  I kind of wanted to shield their eyes from it, “Ahhh, DON’T LOOK AT THAT!  Don’t get any IDEAS!!!!!”  But, I let them watch the 20 minute catastrophe unfolding in front of our very eyes.  The hair dresser looked at me and I looked at her, a mutual understanding.  This went above and beyond a regular tantrum.  We have all seen our fair share of tantrums and have to deal with them, but THIS…this was different.

Finally she said and I quote, “In all the years I’ve worked here, I’ve never seen anything like that!”

“How do I NOT get there,” I replied. 

She didn’t say anything but I knew the answer.  I let it simmer in the air around me echoing through the screams.  We don’t get there when we have the ability to say, “No.”  One word.  It is as simple as that.  Do not give our children everything they want.  If we do, we will end up shelling out $500 for a birthday party that only ends in ungratefulness, tantrums and bratty behavior.  They will take, take, take and never learn how to be content with what they have.  They will always EXPECT more!  They will always be searching for the next gift, the next day, the next best thing.    Yes, yes, yes, here, here, here will turn into demand, demand, demand!  STOMP, STOMP, SCREEEEAAAAMMMM!!!!!

My girls and I talked about the behavior we saw afterward.  My 4 year old was very well aware of the fact that she was acting up.  I said, “Well, what did you think about that?”  She said, “She wanted her presents.  But, if she keeps acting like that, she shouldn’t get anything.”  I laughed.  Right, I thought.  Good girl.  You don’t get what you want by throwing a fit.  I gave her a high five.  “You got it.” 

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for the ability to say no.

I am thankful I can be strong enough to create limitations in our house.  I am hopeful that these limitations will result in positive behavior in the long run.  I am hoping that my girls can sit at the Thanksgiving table and tell me what they are grateful for.  I trust that I can teach them that the things they should be most grateful for aren’t things at all.  That having the best princess dolls or the best birthday party doesn’t and shouldn’t be relevant.  Neither should having the best cars or houses or designer jackets.  By setting barriers, I pray I can find a way to teach my girls how to be content with what they have and be thankful for anything extra.  This world has changed and people seem to care A LOT about the things they have or don’t have.  I am hoping that we can get back to the basics.  We can sit down, around a table, fold our hands together and be thankful for the blessings in our lives.  I am going to make an effort to do just that; be grateful for everything I do have.      

After all, what matters the most, is what we do with our hearts and our time.  Happy Thanksgiving!  

   

 

2 minutes

Yesterday, I walked my daughter to school and thought how warm the day was and how beautiful the trees looked.  My 2 year old sat quietly in her stroller, licking a lollipop, and we silently walked home.  The only noises were my feet crunching on the fallen leaves.  Every once in a while, we get a glimpse of that stillness and it gives off such a feeling of contentment.  I silently counted my blessings.

45 minutes later, I get a text that the school my daughter is at, is on lockdown.

There are no words.

You hear the word, “LOCKDOWN” and you basically lose your mind.

Immediately I think of Newton and Columbine and I feel panic.  I feel helpless. 

My daughter is 4.  She is a baby.  She is so innocent.  I cry silent tears, clutch the phone with shaky hands and call the classroom.  The teacher answers and tells me that they don’t know anything, but nobody is allowed in or out.  She tried to soothe me but my only solace would be seeing my child.  That’s it.  End of story.  My only relief would be seeing her!

The lack of information was what drove the fear like a rocket shooting through the sky without direction.  As information gathered, my fears lessened.  But still, I did not relax until I held her.  When I did, relief flooded me but a piece of fear stayed with me, nipping at my ear, speaking slowly and softly, “we are all susceptible,” it said.  We are susceptible to being at the wrong place, at the wrong time.  We are not immune to it.  We can live in a quiet town and do the right things.  We can be good and happy and quiet in our living.  We can decide not to take risks; to live simply.  But, it just doesn’t matter.  Our lives can change in the span of a second.   If we walk in the middle of New York City at 3am alone, or walk our child around the block to school, anything can happen.  If I’m being honest, that is the scariest thought of all.    

Everything ended up being fine.  The lockdown was a precaution based on a threatening phone call directed at another elementary school in town, but that feels insignificant to me.  What feels significant is the fact that my quiet contented life, spun out of control for only 2 minutes.  But that was enough.  2 minutes was all it took for me to realize what matters the most in life.  Forget about the little things that bother us.  Forget about the fact that my 2 year old cried all morning.  Forget about the fact that I still have to call my bank to resolve a check problem.  Forget about the fact that I still haven’t picked up soap for the kitchen sink.  Insignificant.  What matters more than anything, is our children; our little innocent children.  We don’t want to lose that innocence just yet.  Not yet.  Not now.  There is plenty of time for that.  I want to keep them close and safe.  I want to hug and squeeze and love. 

I really hate the people that threaten that.

So, after I gave my daughter a big squeeze, I sat at the table, stared off into space and ate Halloween candy.  I looked out the window and ate one peanut butter cup after another.  It actually helped.  My girls dressed up in pretty white dresses and smiled and laughed.  I counted my blessings.  For 2 minutes I might have felt helpless, but each minute after that, I will be sure to make it count.    

It's not you, it's me

My husband and I have a quote that we bought in Arizona on vacation and it has blessed all of our apartments and now our home.  It states, “Everyone is crazy besides you and me, and I’m beginning to wonder about you.”  We thought it was hilarious.  We always talk about the “extremes;” those bizarre people we have met along the way which makes us look at each other with a questioning eye and then try to validate that it can’t be us.  “It can’t be us, right??”  It has to be them, yeah?  We thought this quote was funny because sometimes we look at each other and say, “It’s us.”  We are nuts.  NUTS!  Then all of the sudden, you will catch a glimpse of someone else’s ‘wild’ eyes and that will be it; friendship aborted.  It’s them.  Yes, it has to be them.

Everything in moderation; I believe that is the sentence of normalcy.  We can gossip, but not too much. ”Can you believe Noreen and her husband fought over a SOAKED DISH???”

We can feed organic, but give the kid a chicken nugget for lunch and a lollipop for dessert for god’s sake.  Let them LIVE!  Let them have a sugar high, a sugar low, and then scream and cry.  Let it happen!  “I’ll give them Kale tomorrow, I swear to it!!” 

We should care but we should not become a helicopter mom, you know…hovering and micromanaging.  The extremes are what I find to be over the top and at times, a little bit ridiculous.  Someone who is extreme in thoughts or actions, make me question their motives.  Are you doing it because you believe it, or because you believe you are better than me?  Are you judging me if I don’t do the same things?  Those are the questions to dig deep in to with a shovel, a garbage pail and a heavy duty face mask.  As my 2 year old says, “PEE-YOU!!!”

Peel the onion, layer by layer and you will find the core; inside at the heart of it all, the truth. 

And this concept does not just live in parenting decisions.  It resides in relationships and friendships as well.  

What sparked this post is because I’m upset about a few moms who were cold to me today and it bothered me tremendously.  Nobody likes to feel awkward and uncomfortable, if we can help it.  I left asking my husband the same question…is it me?  I don’t understand how some people who used to be nice to me are now cold because a circumstance has changed and it wasn’t to their liking.  It made me feel like I was the foolish one, in this case.  I felt upset and questioned myself; my normalcy.  But, as my husband and I talked it over, we decided that our realities are just different.  I just have to move forward and be confident enough in myself.  I’m not the one being catty, so I’m not the one who should feel bad.      

So, how do we deal with it, ‘the extremes?’  As parents, we try to be as centered and grounded as possible.  We try to teach our children balance.  We try not to let them be too extreme in all things; a lot can be said for a middle of ground approach.  If I put on the TV for the kids a lot in the morning, I try to do stimulating activities in the afternoon.  If they eat one too many cookies after lunch, I try to stuff their face with broccoli at dinner.  Balance.   If someone tells me that TV causes underdeveloped brain activity in 4 year olds, well, I’m going to walk right by you next week and pretend I don’t see you. 

As adults, we try to do the same.  Lead by example.  Show others friendliness and kindness and shrug off the ‘extremes’ that are trying to tell you that you are doing it wrong.  If you feel like you are put off by someone else’s approach to life, it is probably best to steer clear of them.  Maybe they think it is you, maybe you think it is them.  Whoever it is does not matter.  Just steer clear.  Lead your life how you want to lead it, but don’t judge others who do not lead it the same way.  There are no experts here; just a large amount of information that we have to sift through.  If someone tells me (with wild eyes) that Johnson and Johnson shampoo causes cancer as I’m lathering my children’s hair with it, I’m going to take note and then rinse.  My phone will ring off the hook when you call.  I’m just saying.  Help, yes.  Don’t try and convict me.  I don’t see your gavel.

The truth is we are all just trying to do our best.  Right now, if you feel like you are being a tad extreme and feeling a bit senseless yourself, put on some sunglasses to hide those telling eyes.

But, if you are working hard to stay grounded and sensible, you can show those eyes in the sun and be proud of yourself.

Fleeting Moments

I don’t like big changes.  Sometimes I wish everything could stay the same.  I know change is inevitable but sometimes it hits hard, like a death in the family or a new stage in life.  I want my kids to stay this age.  As hard as it may be at times, I don’t wish it away.  I love the fact that my 2 year old will sing happy birthday to me when I get her out of her crib in the morning.  I don’t know what I did to deserve that!  I think it is funny when my 4 year old stalks off with her arms crossed stating that she does not “appreciate sharing!”  This morning, she was getting herself dressed and got all tangled and squealed, “I can’t do it. I’m so frustrated.”  I like that she can communicate her feelings a little better now.  And I laugh a little when she does so with a huff of frustration and an eyebrow crease.  It’s funny.  I snicker.  She definitely doesn’t appreciate my laughter though.  “Don’t laugh MOM!”

“Please,” I say to myself.  “Don’t let me forget this.”

Do you ever have those moments?  Where you desperately cling to it and don’t know how to hold on to it, because it is fleeting. 

Me and my girls bought new dresses for a wedding this weekend and then skipped to the car holding hands.  Fleeting.

My 2 year old quietly looked out the window on the way home and sang, “Once upon a Dream” Fleeting.

My 4 year old daughter told me yesterday, “You are the best mommy in the world.”  Fleeting.  I know she will not say that when she is 14.  If she does it is probably because she will want something from me.

Tears emerge as I think about all that I have and all that I stand to lose as time ticks away…

I read a post the other day on how we shouldn’t “wish away” the stages of life.  We shouldn’t say, “When my baby does this…then it will get better.”  I happen to agree wholeheartedly with that post.  The “if only” thought will only serve one purpose in life, unhappiness.  Then we will always be waiting and what we are waiting for will never come.  We will be grasping at straws; happiness never within our reach.

I have to remind myself of this, constantly…especially when I am knee deep in nebulizer treatments, the croup, ear infections and antibiotics.  Welcome to fall.  It is hard to remember this mantra when I am chasing a 2 year old around the house with a face mask.  “For the love of God, BREATHE IN THE STEAM!”  Or holding my 4 year old in a wrestling tackle to squirt steroids into her mouth.  “OPEN!…SWALLOW!!!”

I have to remind myself to embrace each and every stage and phase while it is happening.  I mean, the 2 year old molars emerging aren’t pretty.  But, if I wish it away, I wish away the constant snuggles and the chubby thighs.  If I wish for my 4 year old to be in school all day, I will miss her singing out loud with her dolls, “Listen to the beat of your heart,” she sings, “keep on dancing!”  Very fitting.   

I’m not ready for 5^th grade clicks at school.  I’m not ready for high school boyfriends that cheat.  I’m not ready for any of it right now.  At this moment, I am ready for whatever happens today.  I have to be.  We all have to be.  I am ready for this stage.  Hopefully when the next stage comes, I will welcome it and be ready.  I’m sure I will.  We are only given everything that we can handle, facemasks and steroids included.  Because each stage/phase serves it purpose.  Time keeps moving, seasons change, and children grow…and these present moments with our children are elusive.  We have to remember that.  We cannot take hold of them because they are fleeting.  We can try to etch them into our brains, write them down, take pictures, but it won’t matter.  They will be gone.  But we can wrap our arms around them with our hearts and hold on for dear life; trying, if we can to embrace them while we have them and appreciate the now…

 

The Soaked Dish

I wrote a post called “The Soaked Dish.”  Normally, I don’t let anyone see anything I write before I send it, but I had a nagging guilt about this one.  I asked my husband to read it first and tell me if it was ok to send.  It got DENIED!

I think he decided it was horrible when it got to the part where I pictured his face as a soaked dish not done, “bubbles popping from his ears.”  I think it was that part that he stopped reading and stated emphatically, “I hate it.” 

Yikes! 

I was having a bad day and I vented.  “How would you feel if I wrote a blog about how you are a witch if you don’t have 8 hours of sleep,” he asked.  “Been there, done that,” I responded.  I’ve said it all.  I’m not shy.  I lay it out there, the good and the bad.  “Should I write about my spare tire again,” I asked with a twinge of sarcasm.

“Look,” I went on, “you are wonderful and helpful, but you have such a busy life.  Things slip through the cracks and it isn’t your fault.  It’s ok.  It is the way it is.”

We ALL cannot do it ALL.  Nobody claims to be perfect.  Nobody is.

 And I am so grateful for everything that he does and how helpful he is to me and this family. 

One in a million.  With that said, I have been allowed to share “The Soaked Dish” 

Enjoy.

The Soaked Dish

You know when the smoke alarm starts running out of batteries, it starts chirping.  It starts off slow, a chirp every 45 minutes or so.  You tip toe around the house trying to find the direction of the chirp.  Is it coming through the baby monitor?  The kitchen?  Upstairs?  Downstairs?  Finally you give up or get distracted by a little person that needs your attention.  But, you hear it, every so often.  And then all of the sudden, you go downstairs a few days later to throw a load of laundry in and you hit it dead on.  CHIRP!  Ahhh, it is the basement one.  You know now, but you don’t change the battery, because that one isn’t your responsibility.  That one’s not mine, I think.  I’m not touching it.

You tell your husband and he hears you, so you think.  “Can you change the smoke alarm battery in the basement? I’m not tall enough.”

The chirps get closer together. 

Weeks go by; the chirps come at you every 3.25 minutes.  CHIRP!!!!!!!!

And with each chirp, your patience starts to wear down until the chirps become a resentment that festers and bothers you almost as bad as the soaked dish.  You know, the one not scrubbed but soaked overnight for you to take care of in the morning.  That one.  My friend tells me I need to coin my phrase, “a soaked dish is not a done dish.”  There. Coined.

We have so much going on as moms, how are we expected to take care of everything?  At some point, the tasks alone can drive you mad as a hatter until you are running around with an irritating tick.  Was the garbage taken out?  Tick.  Did the recyclables get taken to the curb?  Tick.  Did you call about the gutters?  Tick.  Eventually, you look at your husband and all you can see is the soaked dish as his face, bubbles popping from his ears.  Then you give a weak smile trying to forget the image of yourself dragging the recyclables to the curb in your bare feet and polka dot pajama pants that morning.  The grass is wet.  Your hair is in a messy knot of a bun.  And your neighbor drives by…

And then you think to yourself, I just can’t do everything.

And we can’t.

Mothers are extraordinary human beings.  We can birth babies like warriors and run a household like a business.  Nobody is running out of toilet paper, not on my watch. (A sound of a whip cracking).

But at the same time, we are human and we need help.  Our husbands or partners need a present role in our lives and need to be actively participating in SOME of those aggravating tasks.  Otherwise, they will be married to aggravating women.  Nobody wants that.  Truth be told, we don’t like ourselves like that. A scrubbed dish and a battery change will go a long way.  We just want a little help and we would love it if we didn’t have to ask sometimes.  That’s all.  It isn’t hard, I promise and I am not dogging my husband.  This isn’t about him.  This is about me.  We all just need a little understanding.  He does, I do, we do, and you do.  I guess we cannot let it fester.  I THINK we have to communicate.  Give and take.

My husband and I are actually in a wonderful place and I’m sure this is the first he is hearing about the chirping smoke alarm.  Actually, I know it.  After all, he isn’t the one who hears that infuriating noise all day long.  And, I’m sure I told him at a very distracting moment as he was slugging his work bag on the arm of the chair and 2 little rug rats were running full speed at him.  In any event, here is my communication… “Honey, the basement smoke alarm is chirping, can you change it?”

 

 

 

Pop the bubble

Sometimes I feel like I live in a bubble.  I zip around my town and surrounding towns in my car with my kids, dropping off and picking up, running errands, seeing friends, living life.  Everything is neat in its place.  My feathers don’t get ruffled much.  You get yourself into a tidy routine and then you assume positions.  I like it.  It’s safe and natural.  It’s life.  We all have our routines and we make it work, whether we trek into work by bus, or stay home with your kids, we all fall into our prospective bubbles and places.  And I float around bouncing from one thing to another waving to familiar faces and bursting with protected situations.  Bounce to the gym.  Bounce to school.  Bounce back home.

It’s funny because I recently went to get myself a wax and spoke to the owner of the place.  I walked into a conversation about her discussing her “bubble.”  “I was just thinking about my bubble,” I said.  And I was.  I was thinking about my neat and tidy bubble.  And sometimes it is nice if you pop the damn thing.  There is nothing wrong with being safe in your life and your routine, whatever it is.  But there is something liberating about leaving it for a moment.

A few weeks ago, I went out with some friends on a Friday evening.  We took the train into New York City for a night out.  I used to feel like Penn Stations was a second home but it has felt like years since I’ve been there.  I walked out of the train and couldn’t keep my eyes still.  OVERSTIMULATED! 

Look there!  Do you see that?  Is he asleep?  Should we give him money?

It’s like I was 12 years old or something.  I didn’t’ have enough eyes to see everything around me. 

I got so used to my little bubble that I was struck hard by my surroundings, especially the man doing gymnastics through Penn Stations. “Watch him,” I whispered to my friend sipping our roadies in brown paper bags.  I watched the men and women in their suits and business attire breezing by living a different life from mine.  I saw a couple kissing in a corner, a mom carting her baby in backpack; I saw it and I liked the view. It was so fun to step outside and experience something other than filling sippy cups and making sure I have enough diapers in the house.  We went to a beautiful rooftop bar and clicked our martini glasses in solidarity.  Moms are out in our high heeled shoes.  Click, clank, click clank.  The little 20 something’s need to watch out for us because when we go, we go hard.  We drank, we danced, and we stumbled home.  We stepped out of our routine and away from our bubble for a night, for a change in scenery.  We had fun.  And then we went home, woke up to our children, and assumed our positions.  But somehow, my life felt even more pleasant after a moment away.  It gave me a little more perspective.  Yes, I can be a mom but I can also be me.  Yes I can be serious and teach lessons, but I can also yell at the DJ for not playing MY SONG!

We might be married and have children, but we also have lives to live outside that bubble.  We have been stretched out physically and stretched thin mentally.  Perhaps some of us have stretch marks under our spaghetti strapped tops to prove it but it only tells us that we have truly experienced life.  We have been there, where they are.  We have done it.  We have survived through it and ended up where all those young kids want to end up, like us, with children.  Well, most of them anyway.  There is nothing more beautiful and over stimulating than that.

In the end, I nursed a hangover for 8 days which turned into a very bad cold on day 9.  But, I did it with a smile on my face; happy to have popped that bubble and stepped out of it, if only for one night.

 

Unkempt

I don’t shave my legs enough.  It is just one of those things I just don’t do well.  You know why, I’ll finally get the kids to bed and then realize that I have to go outside and put away the stroller or the wagon.  Then I’ll find a sippy cup somewhere in the grass with old milk crusted up and ants crawling in it.  Then I’ll have to deal with that.  I’ll walk inside, defeated.  Then, I’ll finally drag myself into the shower, (because I didn’t have time during the day) look over at the razor and give it a swift flick of my wrist.  No.  Too much effort.  But, I’ll pay for it later.  Like yesterday, I was at a gym class wearing short Capri work-out pants and doing some move the wrong way.  The instructor came up to fix my legs and accidentally (I’m sure) brushed up against my hairy leg.  I went still.  No, please don’t.  I know she saw it or felt it and me and my bright red face focused on that for the next 38 minutes of the class.  Why oh why didn’t I just shave my damn legs??  She must think I am the most unkempt, messy, disheveled human being, a sore excuse for a woman.   How on earth does she even drag herself from her house, she’ll think.  

Is this where I am?  Too lazy to shave my legs? 

If you have been following ‘growing ladies,’ for a while, you know that I went through a really, ugly phase when my second baby was born.  I mean the whole nine; spare tire, crusty finger nails, gray roots…the whole shebang.  And although I am slowly but surely creeping myself out of there, I am fully aware that I am not always up to par.  Who knew we would have to do so much to look good?  Along with shaving our legs, we have to wax, paint, gloss, color, cleanse, and brush.  Who has time to go from here to there and get it all done?  I sure don’t.  So then I’ll find myself lacking somewhere, usually it is my hairy eyebrows.  I’ll look in my rearview mirror and see it in full force.  Drat!

We are woman and we need to feel good about ourselves.  And I will never say anything against that.  EVER!  If my friend wants to drop off her kids with me to get herself a wax, DO IT!  We need to look good for ourselves.  If not, what is the point??!  One of my friends recently said and I quote, “this isn’t my time, this time is all for the kids.”  I couldn’t have disagreed more.  I completely respected her opinion and honestly, more power to her for putting her all into her children, but at the same time, I just think that is no way to live. This is a time for our kids; true…but it will NEVER NOT be about us.  Did you catch that double negative?  Even though we have kids, it should still be about us.  We need TLC too.

I mean, it isn’t like we are walking around like beauty queens here.  At least, I’m not!  We are doing what we have to do to be acceptable.  Go into the world and see people, acceptable.  But, we have to do it for ourselves.  If not, we just don’t feel as good as we can feel about ourselves and then, we won’t be as good as we can as moms.  It’s true.  Full circle.  It all ties into each other.  Look good, feel good, and be good.  Truth.

Look, I have daughters and I’m not saying that we need to FOCUS on beauty.  Not at all.  But, we can focus on being our best selves.  I will also say that I don’t want to walk around with bushy eyebrows.  The amazon look is really not in my ‘acceptable’ column.  If that means getting myself a bi-weekly eyebrow wax, I WILL NOT feel guilty about it. 

Do not feel guilty about taking time for you, whatever it is that makes YOU feel acceptable as a human being.  Do not feel guilty about going for a run, spending an hour with a book, sneaking off for a drink with friends.  Do not feel guilty about living your life.  After all, I don’t want to be 94 years old and asking myself, when did I have a moment for me?!  I want to be 94 years old and say, I had a good life, filled with good people, and felt good about myself during it.  My 94 year old grandmother (in law) was just put into a nursing home/rehab facility for a few weeks and wanted to get her hair done. What a heartwarming thought.  That was always what she did to feel good, always.  I said to my husband, “that is so wonderful and beautiful.”  After raising 7 children, there will never be a time when she doesn’t deserve that.  There will never be a time when any of us moms, don’t deserve to look and feel and BE our very best. 

I’m shaving my legs tonight!

Unspoken Truths

Motherhood is hard.  There are so many silent rules to abide by; so many unspoken truths, judgments.

If everyone just went with their gut and trusted their instincts, everything would be a heck of a lot easier that is for sure.  If most everyone accepted you for what you were, even easier.  But life is not like that.  And when something goes haywire, people are there…waiting for your actions and ready to go home and tell so and so, how they would have done it differently.  Can you believe she did that?  I would NEVER do such a thing….

Judgment.  It doesn’t end when you get your diploma senior year of high school.  It follows us everywhere.  It continues on through your 20’s, 30’s, 40’s and so on.  You know when it pops up, this ugly judgment, when you have a bad moment.  The times you feel like a failure, when you feel like you are the only one in the history of the world who has ever been in this moment.  You know people are watching your every move, ready to pounce; claws sharp. SCRATCH!

I had a moment like that the first day of school.  My 4 year old was nervous to say the least; she gave herself a wicked stomach ache from those nerves.  She was quiet about it.  But, I knew.  I tried a little reverse psychology.  You know, if your friend Olivia cries, you should try and make her feel better, ie. You won’t have a chance to cry because you will be taking care of your friend. 

Good plan?  Nope.  Well of course I dropped her off to the worst tantrum in human history.  Kicking, screaming, and flailing arms and legs, loud cries, heartbreak.  I couldn’t walk away.  I felt like the only mother in human history to have to deal with something like that, EVER.  I know I’m not.  But, I felt it.  I felt like the worst mom.  Of course my daughter isn’t flexible and adaptable.  Of course.  I’m a failure.  Deep down, I know it isn’t true.  But, I walked home crying.  I usually never cry.  But, I threw myself a really awesome, well deserved pity party, wine included.  Did the other moms judge me?  Who knows?  A few are friends and I know they didn’t, but perhaps the others?!  The truth is, I judged myself, harshly.

At the end of the day, are we are own worst critic?  As moms, we don’t need others to judge us, because we do an amazingly stellar job doing it ourselves.  Some moms will judge us.  But the good news is, we do NOT have to be friends with them.  We do not have to accept it as our truth.  We do NOT have to care.  Judgment is here to stay, it is everywhere.  And sometimes people try to expose what is wrong with you because they cannot handle what is right!  It doesn’t matter if you are a CEO, a housewife, a doctor, a lawyer, a writer, it is always there.  People will always have an opinion about others.  And some people will bring down others to make themselves feel better.  Human nature.

BUT, there is always support.  As moms, that is OUR universal unspoken truth.  Other moms will support us.  Yes, they will.  The good ones. Those are the ones we can socialize with and keep close.  Nobody is sitting on their high horse waving down at the crowd with a ‘best mom ever’ sash waving in the wind for good measure.  If they are, then I don’t think they are the best mom.  The best moms are humble.  The best moms will always be striving to do the right thing and to try and be better.  That mom on top of that horse will come crashing down the minute she realizes that she will be up there alone. 

Down here, the rest of us will have hard moments, sulk a little, and then get up the next day with renewal to try again.  We have to.  We must keep going for our children and for ourselves.  And the text messages I got from the moms who are supportive are the ones I hold dear.  And the daggers thrown at me today or in the future will be bounced off my titanium shell.  We are too old for that.  We are in this together.  We judge ourselves enough.  We, as moms, need each other.  Remember that, when you are the one that feels like a failure.  You are not alone.  There will be someone, another mom perhaps, who will lift you right up again and tell you that she will cry right there with you.  

Today I woke up to a brand new day.

 

 

 

 

Low Expectations

Everything sounds good on paper.

When I was pregnant with our first child, my husband would act all excited and pretend to throw a fake baby in the air.  I would laugh but then hesitate and say, “You know you can’t do that with a newborn.”  He would snicker and say, “of course.”  But then I would look at him with a sideways glance.  Hmmm, I wasn’t so sure he knew.  I don’t think he really knew what to do with a baby.  And, I don’t think he knew what on earth was coming. 

Fast forward to now, 2 kids later (ages 4 and 2), and we have realized that life with small kids is never what it seems.  It is harder than we thought and more mentally draining than we could have ever imagined.  We realize now, going into anything with children, is making sure you start the process with nothing more than low expectations.

I think it took a little while for my husband to understand this rule.  He would come to me, guns a BLAZING with plans.  Zoo, amusement parks, water parks, sleepovers…you name it.  “Ummm,” I would respond, “well, you see…” how can I say this?? “I’m not quite sure it would work well.” 

“How will we know if we don’t try,” he would say.  “Right.  Ok then.  Let’s try it.”  You’ll see… (Insert evil laugh here).

The Zoo – kids complained that they were tired 5 minutes into the walk.  The choo choo train wait was 10 minutes and 10 minutes too long.  The little one was scared of the animals.  “Let’s go see the bear,” I would say with fake amusement in my voice.  “I don’t want to see the bear,” my 4 year old would say.  “Mama, no bear,” my 2 year old would repeat.  “Look at those turtles, aren’t they big,” desperation in my tone, “Yes, they are too big.”  BOLLOCKS!  And why even bring a stroller.  Nobody wants to sit.  Everyone wants to run in different directions.  When I finally got my 2 year old actually IN the stroller, she wanted the umbrella up and then down, up and down… and then I put it up and her finger got caught.  We left the zoo screaming.  FAIL!

The amusement park – We traveled 3 hours to go to a place called Dutch Wonderland.  My 4 year old got scared and cried hysterically on the second ride.  And when she starts…

The waits were all 20 minutes or more.  The carousel was too fast. (Said 4-year old).  The amusement park princess had a dress that wasn’t pink enough.  Huh?  The day was too long.  The only thing my little one wanted was an ice pop.  “MAMA, ICE POP, MAMA ICE POP!” We could have done this same song and dance at home?!  My husband left the park stating, “I guess we aren’t ready for Disney.”  No.  Not ready.  “That wasn’t what I thought it would be,” he finally said.  I mentally did a cartwheel of glee but inside I wish the lesson could have been learned with a 5 minute drive. 

Plans…with kids…never go as you imagine them.  When you go in to these plans, you must know that you cannot go in to them with high expectations.  Expect freak outs.  Expect tantrums.  Expect the worst.  Then, when it goes well, it feels like the GREATEST DAY EVER!!!!  Sometimes however, it is best to skip the plans, stay home, and play with crayons and paper.  Sometimes they have the best time rolling in the grass.  Often enough, we don’t need these BIG plans to make our kids happy.  We just need to BE WITH THEM.  That seems to do the trick.  Because if we think we are going to be the ones singing, skipping, and smiling while we lick a lollipop to go see the bears, we are going to be sadly mistaken. 

Sometimes the best plans are the plans that involve little planning.  Those moments that we find mediocre are actually the moments that are shaping their childhood.  Playing with the hose for an hour while we clap…sitting at the table talking about the best parts of our day…laying on the floor in our dining room, side by side looking up to see rainbows reflected on the ceiling.  These are the happiest moments.  No money involved.  No long 3 hour trips.  Just us.  No expectations.

 

Having it All

If you missed it on http://www.ridgewoodmoms.com/#!mommywood/c1ex9  Here it is...

 

 

The age old question arises…can the woman and/or the mom have it all?

I’m sitting here writing this with a pile of laundry on the bed next to me, literally a pile; little toddler bathing suits and loose socks missing the match.  The nitty gritty of life is exactly that, but the truth is, even when women have it all, they still have to get through the pile of laundry.  I guess if you truly do have it all, you just have more laundry to do.

Moms these days have it rough!  We live in a day where we aren’t enough UNLESS…

Unless we have the family and career…

Unless we have 4 children who all become doctors…

Unless we can cook a stew and stir jam for 10 hours…

Unless we have it all, know it all, and do it all, we aren’t enough.  Or at least, that is what we are made to feel.  That, it seems, is what other websites and news reports are here to tell us.  I don’t buy it!  It’s HOGWASH!

The problem is we get constant reminders every day. Betty Sue had a birthday party for her 6 year old with a CAMEL.  Can you believe it?  Jane over there ordered the bouncy house extravaganza for her daughter’s party, and she works full time as a corporate lawyer, can you imagine?  Pfft…I didn’t even blow dry my hair today!  “How do they do it,” you ask yourself.  They aren’t DOING it.  You know what they are doing, playing up their strengths.  They know what they can do and they do those things well.  It doesn’t mean they are better!!  Good for them for knowing what they can do well.  Let’s applaud them.

We all have strengths and weaknesses.  I know I am not a natural born Host.  I’m not.  I would rather walk across hot rocks than host a party.  I do it, yes, but people aren’t going home talking about my hosting capabilities in their gossip circles. “Did you see Noreen’s homemade ice sculpture etched into a swan and freshly baked cupcakes in the form of Elmo?”  Not happening. I am aware of it.  You won’t find me playing that up.  But, I know I can sit with a friend at a table with a cup of tea and listen.  I play that up.  I’m a good problem solver.

I know I don’t always feed my children organic meals even though I would like to.  But, I will sing to them while they are on the swing and they love it.  Fine by me.

I’m aware of what gives me the gold star and what makes me exit stage left. 

We all have hopes and dreams.  We are all here to find our purpose.  So, what does having it all mean?  Does it mean we have to work 9-5, come home to bathe our children, eat a healthy organic meal and then collapse on the bed, stating we are too tired for anything else?  Wink wink.  Or, does it mean having 2.5 children and staying at home to cook well balanced meals and dress our kids in proper attire, taking them to the park and chasing them around?  What does it mean?   It can mean both or neither.  It is different for every single mom out there, every single person, every single WOMAN!

Having it all means knowing who we are.  It means finding balance.  End.of.story.

It DOES NOT have to be only if you can make strawberry jam during naptime.  It DOES NOT mean you have to wear a fitted pink dress and an apron while you host a birthday party extravaganza.  Unless that is what you love to do and what you do best?!  Get it. 

Knowing who you are and what you are here for is empowering.  Knowing your strengths and understanding your weaknesses; contributing to the greater good; raising your children to the BEST of YOUR ability, that is it.  We can’t worry about Betty Sue with the perfectly highlighted streaks in her hair.  We can’t look at Jane with her perfect party planning capabilities.  Maybe they are dead fish in the sack?  Or maybe they have closets cluttered to the tippy top?!  Their weaknesses are hidden under a heavy quilt of self preservation.  It’s fine.  We don’t have to know them.  Who cares! 

We can’t look at any of it.  We need to look at ourselves. 

What do you bring to the table as a mom?  What do you offer as a woman? 

If you offer yourself in all of your wonderful glory, you are offering enough.  You are enough! 

If you know who you are, where you are going, and what makes you tick, whether you have 1 child, 3, or a boat load, then I truly believe (piles of laundry or not) that you are here in real life, living, loving, and in turn… having it all.

 

 

 

The Highlight Reel

I remember when my first daughter was born.  After a few weeks or so, I needed to get out and get an eyebrow wax.  It was such a small thing on one hand but an enormous one on the other.  I told my husband that I would be out for 15-20 minutes.  He told me that he was taking a walk with our newborn in the stroller.  “Ok,” I said, “but it is almost feeding time, she might get fussy on the walk.”  “She will be fine,” he responded.  “It might not be the right time,” I said with one last ditch effort, and continued, “I’ll be home in 15 minutes and then feed her, and then we can go out for walk together.”  “Nah,” he finalized, “she will be fine.  I want to take my daughter for a nice walk” Uh huh….

After a quick 15 minutes, I was on my way home.  As I turned toward our block, I spotted my husband walking our brand new daughter in the stroller, but he wasn’t walking, he was running.  He was pushing the stroller and running toward our house.  I laughed out loud wishing there was someone else there to witness it.  I knew she was wailing and I knew his idyllic image of a beautiful walk with his new baby was squashed like pulp. 

We live in a new world; a world where we experience everyone’s best moments.  We used to just be able to gawk at Hollywood on Oscar night.  We would see their beautiful gowns and beautiful relationships and wish we could live just a moment in their lives.  We would see a flash of perfection knowing it wasn’t real.  Now, we are envying Joe Shmoe, a passing college acquaintance when he puts an image on Instagram of him smiling with a shot of tequila in his hand…living the life, thinking THAT is reality.  Wait…we think….why aren’t we having a shot of tequila, living the life, at 5:00 pm on a Tuesday?  My daughters are screaming for dinner at that very moment, hanging off my leg.  Argh! No, what we see is the highlight reel.  We see ideals.  FLASH!  We see his best foot forward.  FLASH!

We don’t see him take the shot and cry because he is alone and the only way he knows how to cope is to drink.

We all have images of how life should be.  Are we in the perfect marriage, do we have the perfect children, the perfect group of friends, the perfect life??  The answer is probably an astounding no to most, if not all…for most people.  Nothing is perfect.  Couples fight, children cry, friends’ gossip, and life is never what you think it would be.  It’s hard to notice it because it seems like everyone else is living the “perfect” life putting picture after picture on Facebook and Instagram of where they are when they are having that ideal moment.  What we don’t realize is that they are ONLY posting their best times, and they are NOT posting every minute of every day, the pebbles and stones of life.  We are getting the BEST moments, the moments that they need to boast and that is ok.  We just need to be aware of it.  For singles, it’s at the bar with a group of friends.  Cheese! For couples, it is dining at a fancy restaurant sharing a bottle of wine with their faces pressed together, for parents it is at Disney with their 3 perfect kids hugging Mickey Mouse.  Week after week, month after month we are seeing only the best.  We don’t see that same group of friends passed out on couches from too much drinking and then a splitting headache hangover the next day.  We don’t see them walking the walk of shame, lonely.  We don’t see the couple fighting over which restaurant to choose, walking away from each other in a huff silently cursing one another.  We don’t see the kids screaming and rolling around the ground at Disney.  It is what we don’t see, that we should really look at.   To truly understand reality, we have to recognize the in-betweens.

I think of the highlight reel and then I think about my husband’s walk with our newborn.  I know he thought it would go differently.  I know his image was squashed in an instant.  I know he saw other Dad’s pushing the strollers thinking that would be him now; an easy, relaxing stroll with his baby.  I know reality is never like the images we have in our head or what we get from everyone else.  Reality has grit.  Ideals are just that, ideals; something to hang on to when we are having a bad moment.  If only my children wouldn’t cry in public, if only my husband would take out the garbage, if only my wife could be a better cook, if only I could have a life like my coworker from my first job, she seems to be living.  If only my family was like _____’s family, it looks like her kids are always happy??!!

No.  Reality is quite different.  That coworker could be having money trouble; the perfect family could be battling a serious issue.  We see what we see.  But, let’s be real here.  We don’t see reality. 

We make our choices.  We decide what to do with our lives.  We are here in this moment, because we chose our path, our reality.      

Why don’t we make the most of it?  Why don’t we ignore everyone else and what they are doing and live our lives the way we know how?  Live in the moment.  Choose to be happy.  Understand reality.  Be aware of the highlight reel.  Be ok with the garbage piling up, your children crying, and knowing this is your life.  But, being happy, because you only get one life and it might not go as planned and it might not seem better than someone else’s, but it’s yours.  Love it. 

After I fed my newborn baby, my husband and I went out for that walk.  We walked to Starbucks and around our neighborhood.  We walked for 2 hours.  We had a fantastic time as a new family.

You survive the grit because it only makes you appreciate the sweet that much more.  That is reality.  My husband got his ideal walk.  If we snapped a picture and posted it, we would look like we didn’t have a problem in the world.  You wouldn’t see him running with a wailing newborn, you would see our ideal moment from our highlight reel.  But, we didn’t take a picture, because some things are amazing and personal…

A day at the park with smiles and laughter, dinner as a family when my husband gets home early, getting to the bottom of the laundry, seeing a friend at the park and chatting for an uninterrupted moment, chatting with my mom on the phone for an hour, having a glass of wine with a friend and having a heart to heart on a Tuesday. 

These everyday moments are images on my hightlight reel.  People don’t see it because I don’t snap and post.  It isn’t fancy or flashy but it is mine and I’ll take it.