There's something about the five month mark, I guess, that makes me crave something really weird...
Birth Stories!!
I cannot get enough of them. Last night I watched about ten live birth videos online, and no matter how gross or amazing the story itself was, I ALWAYS cried when that baby was born. Natural births, medicated births, water births, c-sections, twin births, premature births,...there is something so beautiful and fascinating about every single one.
So....I'm asking for your birth stories AGAIN! I did this when I was pregnant with Sylvia and it was boatloads of fun. For me, anyway. Two years ago I was fortunate enough to post stories from Katie, Madonna, Elizabeth, Laura, and Rachael. I also got to read a few private stories from friends who were happy to share with me, but requested that I not post them on the blog. This time around, I want MORE! I know that most of these girls have had another baby, so I'm hoping they're willing to share again, and I know there are TONS of mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, and grandparents who might like to have the birth stories of their children or grandchildren written down for prosperity's sake. I'm really hoping to get more mom stories PLUS some non-mom stories this time.
Here are the guidelines:
- Email me your stories at pocket879 at hotmail dot com OR if you have your
stories in a blog post, just send me the link.
- If you have more than one
kid, you can send me more than one story OR you can combine them, I don't
mind.
- Let me know somewhere in your email if I have permission to post your
story on my blog. My number one goal is to learn as much as I can about your
experiences, my number two goal is to share what I learn with the online world.
So, if you don't want me to publish your story, don't let it stop you from
sending it! I still want to read it!! If you do want your story published,
leave out any identifying factors like locations, hospital names, and names of
doctors and nurses.
If you're not sure where to start, here are some questions you can use. Obviously, these are geared toward moms, but if you're not a mom, you might still find useful questions in here:
1. When and how did you know you were in labor?
2. Who was there to support you and what was their reaction?
3. How long were you in labor? When did you decide to
go to the hospital?
4. What happened once you got to the hospital?
5. Who was with you in the delivery room? What was their reaction?
6.
Were there any surprises for you on that day (good or bad)?
7. Describe the moment when you first saw your little one -
Did the baby cry? Did you cry? Were the baby's eyes open? Did you get to hold
the baby right away?
8. How
long did you stay in the hospital and how long was your recovery?
9. What were your thoughts on leaving the hospital and bringing baby home? What were the first few days at home like for you?
Yesterday, I was speaking with a student and her dad. He told me the story of how he and his wife got PULLED OVER on the way to the hospital (sound familiar, Katie?) and ended up getting a police escort to the emergency room. I looked at the little girl and said, "Oh my gosh! Did you know that?!" She shook her head in amazement and said, "No." He said, "I never told you that? We got pulled over by the cops!" and I thought to myself - what an important piece of history for that little girl to know.
So come on, folks! Open up a word document or grab an old fashioned pencil and get crackin'! These stories won't tell themselves, you know!
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Novice Parenting Wisdom
I've been working on this post for a week. Here's a fair warning: it's long and probably boring or maybe even a little bit annoying for the few people who manage to read it. But I like it, and I'm glad I wrote it, and you don't have to read it if you don't want to - so there!
Sylvia's about to take a giant leap into her second birthday, and I know these next six weeks are going to be a blur. Last weekend, I laid awake at 3:00 am and couldn't help but think of all the things I know because now I'm such a veteran at this Mommy business. Two whole years! I might as well write a book and call myself a Guru. I've got this thing in the BAG, right? Why else would I be up at 3:00 in the morning freaking out about the fact that I forgot to send pajamas with my kid when she spent the night at Grammy's? Instead of being completely unproductive, I grabbed my handy phone and made a list of all the things I know about being a Mom. You're welcome.
1. Kids are resiliant. When we brought Sylvia home from the hospital, I spent two entire months whispering and walking on eggshells, treating her like a porcelin doll. One day, I was walking down to the basement with her in my arms, and I stopped on the landing and cried, because I thought if I kept going, I would surely drop her and she'd die, but if I tried to go back upstairs, it was just as likely to happen. Clearly, this is a sign of my insanity and lack of faith. But now? Now she's almost TWO! And she's healthy. And she's happy. And those first two months did not need to be so stressful. Nor did the next twenty months, which brings me to today. Do you have any idea how many times my child falls down? Remember the spray paint? And there's no telling what that girl has put into her mouth when I wasn't looking! I'll even admit that I've forgotten to buckle her into her carseat a time or two - but she's none the worse for the wear. We both survived two whole years together and I'm willing to bet she lives a long and healthy life, whether I'm around to pad her falls or not.
2. You can't do everything right all the time. The list of things that I do wrong grows every day. Especially when I allow my brain to compare myself to other moms - ones I know and ones I read about. It's completely pointless. There is no such thing as a perfect parent or a perfect child, but darn it, my brain keeps thinking I should try! My rational mind knows that every mom does some things wrong, but my crazy mind only sees the amazingly wonderful things that other moms do that I don't do, and then it veers off into a giant tailspin of Mommy Guilt! I can't stop this from happening, but I can recognize when I'm being absolutely ridiculous, and refer myself to lesson learned #3....
3. Be proud of what you do well. The list of things I do well is significantly shorter than the list of things I do wrong, but I will hang on to every last item on that short little list for dear life. I will refer to them often, especially when the Mommy Guilt Tailspin gets out of control. I read to her every day. I sing to her every day. I rock her to sleep every night. I taught her how to say "Please" and "Thank You" and "I Love You." I taught her how to dance and how to make cupcakes. Also, I can put together a mean set of pigtails. Add to that list all the things my husband does well, like build blanket tunnels, cook yummy dinners, and teach her another freaking language, and all of a sudden we start looking like one of those awesome families you see on TV. Except we only have one kid and I'm only pregnant with one at the moment. And we have all of our teeth. So no one wants to watch our show.
4. Sleep is overrated, showers are not. During my maternity leave, I forced myself to do two things every day: take a nap and take a shower - even if they each only lasted for five minutes. Once Sylvia started sleeping through the night, I didn't really need naps, or a decent night's sleep; but I can be one cranky Mama if I don't get my shower! Maybe it's the alone time. Maybe it's a form of stress relief. But whatever happens in the shower is magical and powerful and I do my best to keep it sacred. Sometimes I don't get to take one until long after she's gone to bed, and I still get up and take one the next morning, just because I love it so much. It's my happy place.
5. Time away is important. Sometimes I worry about sounding like a terrible mother when I say that I love dropping my kid off at someone else's house and leaving her there. Especially since I don't get to see her much during the week. But you know what? Leaving her with a sitter makes me feel like a grown up. An addendum to this life lesson should be take all the help you can get. Mom asked us if she could take Sylvia last Saturday night, even though she had to work all day. When I dropped her off, Sylvia and Charlie were running around like a bunch of maniacs. I felt a little guilty because I knew Mom would be pooped, but I ran outta there like my pants were on fire and enjoyed every second of non-kid time I had on the clock. Sylvain and I went out to a lovely dinner for no good reason other than the fact that someone offered to take our child and we said OKAY! And we'd do it again. Spending grown up time together not only brings us closer to each other, but it brings my brain back to planet Earth. For one evening, I did NOT have a nonstop loop of Ukulele Jim's "Wheels on the Bus" running through my head. Bliss.
6. Old people don't get it, but it's useless to try to change their minds. Car seats, strollers, cribs, breastfeeding, toddler nutrition...all of these things were very, very different when I was a baby. Heck, they were very different five years ago! I've been on the receiving end of countless eye rolls and hefty sighs when these topics arise, from family members to coworkers to complete strangers. I used to try to explain - "Well, research says it's safer for a child to stay in their car seat until they're two!" But I quickly learned that it doesn't matter. Those old folks will swear by the "way we did things," and say, "It was good enough for my kids!" so you know what? I give it to them. It's easier for me to say, "Yeah, you're right, I'm just crazy like that, but what I say goes, so...." than for me to say, "Umm...you're NUTS." I understand. I'll be the same way when I'm done raising my kids, because if my kids survive, then clearly I will know more than anyone else who will ever try to do this.
7. Ideals, assumptions, and expectations are always changing. I used to think that pregnancy itself was disgusting and scary and something I would never, ever do. Obviously I changed my mind. I also changed my mind about finger paint and tutus. I'm still hesitant and skeptical, but these things are now permitted in my house. Basically, I've learned to never say never, because as soon as I say, "I'll NEVER let my kid watch Elmo!" she comes home chanting his name and I have to rethink things. Whenever I bring this up with other moms, I always hear a story about how they swore they'd never...*fill in the blank*...but now...*insert crazy child story*...so they have to...*change their minds.*
8. You learn more from them than they do from you - and they learn everything from you. The amount of information Sylvia's brain can compute in one day is staggering. Her vocabulary alone impresses my pants off. But what really gets to me is the way she knows how to love people. The way she throws her arms around our necks and kisses our cheeks with such bubbly happiness. She had to learn that somewhere, right? Or did she know it all along and is she now showing me what love means? Here's something else I learn from her - I learn exactly what I look like and sound like on any given day. She is an absolute mirror of my mannerisms, emotions, and quirks. I can tell when I'm having a cranky day, because guess who else gets really cranky? It's almost scary how closely her behavior is to mine sometimes. She has completely changed the way I see myself and the rest of the world.
9. Listen to them, and to yourself. The older Sylvia gets, the more she can communicate verbally and physically, but I've learned to listen to the little things. Sometimes she throws herself onto my lap and "cries" just because she wants attention, and sometimes she throws herself on my lap and cries because she's truly scared or hurt. I don't know if anyone else would be able to tell the difference, but I know there's something in her whimper when she's doing it for real. Some sort of truth to the way she's holding her body. Something really subtle and almost electric about her. I've also learned to trust myself as her mother. If I feel like something is wrong, it usually is. If I feel like something is right even though it looks all wrong, it usually is. Moms just figure these things out, I guess. And no matter how much chatter and nonsense I hear from the outside world, I can always tell when my instincts are kicking in and my decisions are right. I usually know what she needs before she needs it, and she knows what I need before I need it, too.
10. Kids are borrowed. I've spent a lot of time during the last two years worrying about the future. Panicking about Sylvia growing up and dreading the day she will ultimately "leave." More recently, I've been freaking out about the idea of releasing two little girls, sisters, into the world one day. I think it's natural for parents to feel like kids belong to them. They are mine. They are part of my job now. I have to take care of them. I have to teach them. I have to grow them like plants in a garden. But when I really stop to think about it, I know in my heart that's not true. They do not belong to me. I am lucky enough to be their mother for a little while. I've been blessed with the task of guiding them and leading them into the world, but someday, they'll belong to the world all by themselves. Right now they are just my kids - pure and simple and true. But someday they'll become someone else's friend, someone else's student, someone else's role model, maybe someone else's wife and mother. So really, it's my job to release them already. To love them for every second I have them, knowing full well that they are not mine. That we all belong to a bigger picture and my path crossed their paths long enough for them to change me, and for me to give them as much of myself as I can.
So there you have it, if you managed to read this far without falling asleep or throwing up. Complete nonsense? Perhaps. But it was important enough to wake me up in the middle of the night, so I decided to get it all down, regardless. I absolutely love being a mom. I'm unsure of myself and insecure at times, but I do the best I can, just like any other mom in the world. I don't know what adventures are in store for us down the road, but I know that with enough love and patience, and with a whole lot of faith, we'll enjoy those adventures together.
Sylvia's about to take a giant leap into her second birthday, and I know these next six weeks are going to be a blur. Last weekend, I laid awake at 3:00 am and couldn't help but think of all the things I know because now I'm such a veteran at this Mommy business. Two whole years! I might as well write a book and call myself a Guru. I've got this thing in the BAG, right? Why else would I be up at 3:00 in the morning freaking out about the fact that I forgot to send pajamas with my kid when she spent the night at Grammy's? Instead of being completely unproductive, I grabbed my handy phone and made a list of all the things I know about being a Mom. You're welcome.
1. Kids are resiliant. When we brought Sylvia home from the hospital, I spent two entire months whispering and walking on eggshells, treating her like a porcelin doll. One day, I was walking down to the basement with her in my arms, and I stopped on the landing and cried, because I thought if I kept going, I would surely drop her and she'd die, but if I tried to go back upstairs, it was just as likely to happen. Clearly, this is a sign of my insanity and lack of faith. But now? Now she's almost TWO! And she's healthy. And she's happy. And those first two months did not need to be so stressful. Nor did the next twenty months, which brings me to today. Do you have any idea how many times my child falls down? Remember the spray paint? And there's no telling what that girl has put into her mouth when I wasn't looking! I'll even admit that I've forgotten to buckle her into her carseat a time or two - but she's none the worse for the wear. We both survived two whole years together and I'm willing to bet she lives a long and healthy life, whether I'm around to pad her falls or not.
2. You can't do everything right all the time. The list of things that I do wrong grows every day. Especially when I allow my brain to compare myself to other moms - ones I know and ones I read about. It's completely pointless. There is no such thing as a perfect parent or a perfect child, but darn it, my brain keeps thinking I should try! My rational mind knows that every mom does some things wrong, but my crazy mind only sees the amazingly wonderful things that other moms do that I don't do, and then it veers off into a giant tailspin of Mommy Guilt! I can't stop this from happening, but I can recognize when I'm being absolutely ridiculous, and refer myself to lesson learned #3....
3. Be proud of what you do well. The list of things I do well is significantly shorter than the list of things I do wrong, but I will hang on to every last item on that short little list for dear life. I will refer to them often, especially when the Mommy Guilt Tailspin gets out of control. I read to her every day. I sing to her every day. I rock her to sleep every night. I taught her how to say "Please" and "Thank You" and "I Love You." I taught her how to dance and how to make cupcakes. Also, I can put together a mean set of pigtails. Add to that list all the things my husband does well, like build blanket tunnels, cook yummy dinners, and teach her another freaking language, and all of a sudden we start looking like one of those awesome families you see on TV. Except we only have one kid and I'm only pregnant with one at the moment. And we have all of our teeth. So no one wants to watch our show.
4. Sleep is overrated, showers are not. During my maternity leave, I forced myself to do two things every day: take a nap and take a shower - even if they each only lasted for five minutes. Once Sylvia started sleeping through the night, I didn't really need naps, or a decent night's sleep; but I can be one cranky Mama if I don't get my shower! Maybe it's the alone time. Maybe it's a form of stress relief. But whatever happens in the shower is magical and powerful and I do my best to keep it sacred. Sometimes I don't get to take one until long after she's gone to bed, and I still get up and take one the next morning, just because I love it so much. It's my happy place.
5. Time away is important. Sometimes I worry about sounding like a terrible mother when I say that I love dropping my kid off at someone else's house and leaving her there. Especially since I don't get to see her much during the week. But you know what? Leaving her with a sitter makes me feel like a grown up. An addendum to this life lesson should be take all the help you can get. Mom asked us if she could take Sylvia last Saturday night, even though she had to work all day. When I dropped her off, Sylvia and Charlie were running around like a bunch of maniacs. I felt a little guilty because I knew Mom would be pooped, but I ran outta there like my pants were on fire and enjoyed every second of non-kid time I had on the clock. Sylvain and I went out to a lovely dinner for no good reason other than the fact that someone offered to take our child and we said OKAY! And we'd do it again. Spending grown up time together not only brings us closer to each other, but it brings my brain back to planet Earth. For one evening, I did NOT have a nonstop loop of Ukulele Jim's "Wheels on the Bus" running through my head. Bliss.
6. Old people don't get it, but it's useless to try to change their minds. Car seats, strollers, cribs, breastfeeding, toddler nutrition...all of these things were very, very different when I was a baby. Heck, they were very different five years ago! I've been on the receiving end of countless eye rolls and hefty sighs when these topics arise, from family members to coworkers to complete strangers. I used to try to explain - "Well, research says it's safer for a child to stay in their car seat until they're two!" But I quickly learned that it doesn't matter. Those old folks will swear by the "way we did things," and say, "It was good enough for my kids!" so you know what? I give it to them. It's easier for me to say, "Yeah, you're right, I'm just crazy like that, but what I say goes, so...." than for me to say, "Umm...you're NUTS." I understand. I'll be the same way when I'm done raising my kids, because if my kids survive, then clearly I will know more than anyone else who will ever try to do this.
7. Ideals, assumptions, and expectations are always changing. I used to think that pregnancy itself was disgusting and scary and something I would never, ever do. Obviously I changed my mind. I also changed my mind about finger paint and tutus. I'm still hesitant and skeptical, but these things are now permitted in my house. Basically, I've learned to never say never, because as soon as I say, "I'll NEVER let my kid watch Elmo!" she comes home chanting his name and I have to rethink things. Whenever I bring this up with other moms, I always hear a story about how they swore they'd never...*fill in the blank*...but now...*insert crazy child story*...so they have to...*change their minds.*
8. You learn more from them than they do from you - and they learn everything from you. The amount of information Sylvia's brain can compute in one day is staggering. Her vocabulary alone impresses my pants off. But what really gets to me is the way she knows how to love people. The way she throws her arms around our necks and kisses our cheeks with such bubbly happiness. She had to learn that somewhere, right? Or did she know it all along and is she now showing me what love means? Here's something else I learn from her - I learn exactly what I look like and sound like on any given day. She is an absolute mirror of my mannerisms, emotions, and quirks. I can tell when I'm having a cranky day, because guess who else gets really cranky? It's almost scary how closely her behavior is to mine sometimes. She has completely changed the way I see myself and the rest of the world.
9. Listen to them, and to yourself. The older Sylvia gets, the more she can communicate verbally and physically, but I've learned to listen to the little things. Sometimes she throws herself onto my lap and "cries" just because she wants attention, and sometimes she throws herself on my lap and cries because she's truly scared or hurt. I don't know if anyone else would be able to tell the difference, but I know there's something in her whimper when she's doing it for real. Some sort of truth to the way she's holding her body. Something really subtle and almost electric about her. I've also learned to trust myself as her mother. If I feel like something is wrong, it usually is. If I feel like something is right even though it looks all wrong, it usually is. Moms just figure these things out, I guess. And no matter how much chatter and nonsense I hear from the outside world, I can always tell when my instincts are kicking in and my decisions are right. I usually know what she needs before she needs it, and she knows what I need before I need it, too.
10. Kids are borrowed. I've spent a lot of time during the last two years worrying about the future. Panicking about Sylvia growing up and dreading the day she will ultimately "leave." More recently, I've been freaking out about the idea of releasing two little girls, sisters, into the world one day. I think it's natural for parents to feel like kids belong to them. They are mine. They are part of my job now. I have to take care of them. I have to teach them. I have to grow them like plants in a garden. But when I really stop to think about it, I know in my heart that's not true. They do not belong to me. I am lucky enough to be their mother for a little while. I've been blessed with the task of guiding them and leading them into the world, but someday, they'll belong to the world all by themselves. Right now they are just my kids - pure and simple and true. But someday they'll become someone else's friend, someone else's student, someone else's role model, maybe someone else's wife and mother. So really, it's my job to release them already. To love them for every second I have them, knowing full well that they are not mine. That we all belong to a bigger picture and my path crossed their paths long enough for them to change me, and for me to give them as much of myself as I can.
So there you have it, if you managed to read this far without falling asleep or throwing up. Complete nonsense? Perhaps. But it was important enough to wake me up in the middle of the night, so I decided to get it all down, regardless. I absolutely love being a mom. I'm unsure of myself and insecure at times, but I do the best I can, just like any other mom in the world. I don't know what adventures are in store for us down the road, but I know that with enough love and patience, and with a whole lot of faith, we'll enjoy those adventures together.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Greatest Day Ever:
Look what I've got!
Today, Sylvia and I went to Lexington to meet the newest arrivals - FOUR babies girls, all born within the last three months! Does it get better than that? I don't think so.
I was so impressed with all of my new Mama friends. They all know EXACTLY what they are doing! No cry, whimper, or smile went unanswered. They were all in perfect sync with their own little one. It was absolutely astonishing! I spent the majority of my afternoon chasing Sylvia around the house, but I listened to the conversations, and I must say...these are some fine role models. All of these women are smart, funny and creative. I can't think of a better group of people to spend the day with.
While they were sharing the most intimate of thoughts and discussions, Sylvia was in toddler heaven and I wasn't far behind! We've been using the cat to practice "gentle, one-finger touching." She did really well, for the most part. She rocked Ellie in her car seat. She patted Scarlett on the leg before trying to climb into the bouncer with her. She said "Awww, baby!" about a hundred times during the day. She also loved.....THE CATS! Poor Lucy The Cat got a run for her money today. Sylvia ran through every room and squealed at the top of her lungs every time she saw that poor kitty. Overall, today was one, giant, overstimulating party for Sylvia. She didn't stop moving or making noise until long after she went to bed. I was WORN OUT!
Regardless of our best efforts, Sylvia just can't pass up the opportunity to poke a baby in the eye. Here are the girls before she assaulted poor Clover:
And here they are after she stabbed Clover in the eye: (notice how Audrey is starting to get worried...)
Scarlett is the social one, grabbing Audrey's arm, trying to be all buddy-buddy:
I brought some of Sylvia's old toys with us, so I could convince these new Moms to take care of them until after we move (aren't I clever?). Sylvia gave a demonstration and said, "Hey ladies, let me show you how this works...."
All joking aside, though, these four Mommies are quite an inspiration. As I watched them mother their babies, I was overwhelmed with the amount of creativity, intellect, humor, and camaraderie that filled the room. These girls have some mad mothering skillz! With a Z!
To say that I have the "baby itch" would be an understatement. How could I not want another little one when all of these sweet babies are so happy?! I can't wait to watch these girls grow up. They're going to do great, great things. I just know it!
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Mama, I'd Like to Walk, Please!
Ever since Sylvia showed up, I keep reaching these moments where life just smacks me in the face. They generally correspond with her big milestones and they force me to look into our future and imagine what life will be like in the coming months or years. This morning was one of those bittersweet moments, and like the rest, I was enormously unprepared for it.
It's amazing how accustomed I've become to our morning routine, from the minute I wake up to the minute I drop her off. Packing bottles, lugging a diaper bag, snapping car seat straps. It's all very mundane and boring. I drove around the back of the church where I drop her off every morning and parked the car in the same spot I've used for the last ten months. I pulled her out of her car seat, reached for the diaper bag on the floorboard, and balanced my keys in my hand so I could lock the car and shut the door. As I went to stand up straight, she did that squirmy, toddler-Houdini move where she twists and turns and slides down my leg until...Oh my! She's standing on the pavement holding onto my pants leg.
I laughed and said, "What are you doing, silly goose? You wanna walk? Okay!" I stuck out my finger and her little hand wrapped around it. Then we walked together across the parking lot, her face beaming, her mouth giggling, and her whole body screaming "Look at me! I'm a big girl!"
In that ten second trip from the car door to the daycare door, I felt so many different emotions. I was so proud of her. And it felt incredibly liberating to know that I don't have to hold her anymore. But I was a teeny tiny bit sad because she was acting SO grown up! She clearly doesn't need me to carry her. She prefers to walk. She chooses independence over Mama's arms. Yipes. I can barely wrap my mind around it!
In teaching, we call the moment where you let a kid attempt something all by themselves the "release of responsibility," and it's constantly argued that teachers have a problem doing it. Most teachers give students too much help and cannot cut the puppet strings, even though they know deep down the students can do it. I suppose the same goes for parenting. I am constantly trying to help her or guide her or support her, but she always reminds me that she can do it. All by herself. Because she's a big girl. And I'll just have to deal.
We walked through the door and down the hallway. The girls in her room were cheering her on. "Look at you, Sylvia! You're such a big girl!" She waved goodbye to me and didn't cry when I left. I sat in my car and heaved a giant sigh. What comes next? Before I know it, I'll be walking her straight into her kindergarten classroom. Then I'll blink, and she'll be walking across the graduation stage. I didn't cry about it, but I sat there for a sweet minute, thinking about my baby. Then I put the car in gear and said out loud...
Bye, bye, little girl!
It's amazing how accustomed I've become to our morning routine, from the minute I wake up to the minute I drop her off. Packing bottles, lugging a diaper bag, snapping car seat straps. It's all very mundane and boring. I drove around the back of the church where I drop her off every morning and parked the car in the same spot I've used for the last ten months. I pulled her out of her car seat, reached for the diaper bag on the floorboard, and balanced my keys in my hand so I could lock the car and shut the door. As I went to stand up straight, she did that squirmy, toddler-Houdini move where she twists and turns and slides down my leg until...Oh my! She's standing on the pavement holding onto my pants leg.
I laughed and said, "What are you doing, silly goose? You wanna walk? Okay!" I stuck out my finger and her little hand wrapped around it. Then we walked together across the parking lot, her face beaming, her mouth giggling, and her whole body screaming "Look at me! I'm a big girl!"
In that ten second trip from the car door to the daycare door, I felt so many different emotions. I was so proud of her. And it felt incredibly liberating to know that I don't have to hold her anymore. But I was a teeny tiny bit sad because she was acting SO grown up! She clearly doesn't need me to carry her. She prefers to walk. She chooses independence over Mama's arms. Yipes. I can barely wrap my mind around it!
In teaching, we call the moment where you let a kid attempt something all by themselves the "release of responsibility," and it's constantly argued that teachers have a problem doing it. Most teachers give students too much help and cannot cut the puppet strings, even though they know deep down the students can do it. I suppose the same goes for parenting. I am constantly trying to help her or guide her or support her, but she always reminds me that she can do it. All by herself. Because she's a big girl. And I'll just have to deal.
We walked through the door and down the hallway. The girls in her room were cheering her on. "Look at you, Sylvia! You're such a big girl!" She waved goodbye to me and didn't cry when I left. I sat in my car and heaved a giant sigh. What comes next? Before I know it, I'll be walking her straight into her kindergarten classroom. Then I'll blink, and she'll be walking across the graduation stage. I didn't cry about it, but I sat there for a sweet minute, thinking about my baby. Then I put the car in gear and said out loud...
Bye, bye, little girl!
Monday, November 1, 2010
Being a Mom
Today is November 1, the first day of National Blog Posting Month. Now, I'm not sure, but when I check their link, it looks like every month is National Blog Posting Month and you just pick the month in which you want to try to post every day. Laura and I did it last November, and I think November makes for a great Blog Posting Month because it's time to really start thinking about all the things for which I am thankful. I told Laura earlier today that there's no way I'd be able to do it this year, because I barely make it to the computer for a weekly post anymore, much less a daily one, but then I thought about it all day long and remembered how nice it was to sit down each evening and reflect on all of my blessings. So here we go! I'm going to give it a shot, but I won't make any promises. I'll be brief (or as brief as I can be *wink wink*) and I'll be sincere. Tonight, I am thankful for...
Being a Mom.
As I was putting Sylvia to bed tonight, I stopped for a second after getting up out of my chair. I swayed back and forth before putting her in her crib and I looked up on the wall to see my shadow swaying over the tree we put up last year. I looked at my silhouette, with the Nugget's little head on my shoulder, and remembered that this is exactly where I've always wanted to be. I remembered that at this time last year, and for many years before, this has been exactly my dream. And to see it there, up on the wall, in a faint outline, right before my eyes, made it very clear that no matter how difficult this may be, or how incredibly I might mess up, I'll always have this moment. The one where I know without a shadow of a doubt that being a mother is the greatest job in the world. So tonight, while the out-of-town guests are downstairs and the washing machine is filling up and the bottles need to be washed, I decided to sit down and give thanks for my biggest blessing. Motherhood.
Being a Mom.
As I was putting Sylvia to bed tonight, I stopped for a second after getting up out of my chair. I swayed back and forth before putting her in her crib and I looked up on the wall to see my shadow swaying over the tree we put up last year. I looked at my silhouette, with the Nugget's little head on my shoulder, and remembered that this is exactly where I've always wanted to be. I remembered that at this time last year, and for many years before, this has been exactly my dream. And to see it there, up on the wall, in a faint outline, right before my eyes, made it very clear that no matter how difficult this may be, or how incredibly I might mess up, I'll always have this moment. The one where I know without a shadow of a doubt that being a mother is the greatest job in the world. So tonight, while the out-of-town guests are downstairs and the washing machine is filling up and the bottles need to be washed, I decided to sit down and give thanks for my biggest blessing. Motherhood.
Monday, August 30, 2010
A Hot Mess
The last 24 hours of my life have gone down like they were straight out of a Ben Stiller movie. You know, the kind of movies where the main character gets crapped on over and over again and you just want to scream at the movie screen and walk out of the theater? Yeah, that's what's going on over here.
It all started when I realized around 6:00 last night that I left my school bag at my mom's house with my computer and lesson plans inside. A computer and lesson plans that would be very hard to live without all week. I felt awful about it, like I had really screwed up big time as a "working mom who has it together." That, I certainly am not, as the rest of my story will prove.
Next, we decided to make a late trip to the grocery store, which meant dinner was pushed back about a half an hour, which, in baby terms, is about a million years. Sylvia fell asleep on the way home, and when she woke up...woah, buddy, she was M-A-D mad! She was all, "WHY HAVEN'T I HAD ANY DINNER YET?" and "NO I WILL NOT WAIT HERE PATIENTLY UNTIL YOU WARM UP MY FOOD!" and "YOU EXPECT ME TO EAT THIS CRAP NOW THAT YOU'VE GOT ME ALL WORKED UP? I DON'T THINK SO!!!" I tried to shovel in a few spoonfuls of squash and rice cereal, but between bites she decided to spit it all back out and scream and cry and scream and cry. I took her out of her high chair and put her in my lap and she settled down long enough to finish her food, but it left me covered in pureed squash and baby puke. Mmmm, yummy.
We knew she was really tired, so after dinner we decided to put her straight in the tub and then get her to bed. While I was still covered in squash and puke, I reached into the tub to turn on the faucet and, wouldn't you know, I accidentally turned on the shower instead! So there I was, soaking wet, covered in damp squash and baby puke. Humph.
We finally got the babe in the tub, at which point I decided I was exhausted and I was not in the mood to watch her play for half an hour. Right after I scrubbed her down and got her all squeaky clean, she proceeded to POOP in the bathtub, which sucked for me, because I put my feet in the tub when I give her a bath (after I clean them, of course - bath time is a great excuse for a foot bath...until your baby poops on you, at which point feet in the bath are not such a good idea). I screamed for Sylvain, he came running, laughed at me, and helped me get her out of the tub before she got herself all dirty. He whisked her off to her bedroom and there I stood, still covered in wet squash and baby puke, ankle deep in poopy bath water. Not my greatest moment.
I tried to have a glass of wine to help me settle down while watching some of the Emmy's last night, but I was so tired I fell asleep on the couch. Luckily, Sylvia slept all night, so my story could be worse. I woke up this morning, still feeling overwhelmingly tired despite having had a good night's sleep, and decided I could afford to snooze for six minutes. Oops. Those six minutes would have come in handy when I was running about 15 minutes late, scrambling around the house to find my keys. I could feel the tears coming and I decided to look for one more minute before calling in sick to work and staying home with the baby. Sure enough, I found them and we were on our way.
I dropped her off at day care and sprinted to my car, then, as I sat down and put my key in the ignition, I realized I had lost the automatic starter key pad that my loving husband paid way too much money for. I was so late that I decided not to go back inside and look for it, I just started driving away and fighting back tears. I drove to the front of the church and was about to turn onto the main road when I read the sign that said something really simple like "God is good." And I took a minute right then and there to put my foot on the brake, bow my head, and pray. I literally dropped my head onto the steering wheel, closed my eyes and begged out loud, "Please God, just help me make it through the day. See me through to the other side of this mess. I'm yours. I'm handing you all of this stress and chaos. Please take it. I need you to take it." And he did, of course, because that's his thing. He saw me through this day, and although it was a long one and a stressful one, and all I could think about was my comfy bed and my sweet snuggly baby, here we are at the other end of it, none the worse for the wear. I got my computer back thanks to my wonderful stepdad, AND I got my key pad back because Sylvain found it in the bottom of Sylvia's carrier.
And I didn't get pooped on tonight. I'll take any small success where ever I can find it. From now on, any day that doesn't end with getting pooped on will be a good day. I'll be saying my prayers of thanks (and forgiveness) tonight!
It all started when I realized around 6:00 last night that I left my school bag at my mom's house with my computer and lesson plans inside. A computer and lesson plans that would be very hard to live without all week. I felt awful about it, like I had really screwed up big time as a "working mom who has it together." That, I certainly am not, as the rest of my story will prove.
Next, we decided to make a late trip to the grocery store, which meant dinner was pushed back about a half an hour, which, in baby terms, is about a million years. Sylvia fell asleep on the way home, and when she woke up...woah, buddy, she was M-A-D mad! She was all, "WHY HAVEN'T I HAD ANY DINNER YET?" and "NO I WILL NOT WAIT HERE PATIENTLY UNTIL YOU WARM UP MY FOOD!" and "YOU EXPECT ME TO EAT THIS CRAP NOW THAT YOU'VE GOT ME ALL WORKED UP? I DON'T THINK SO!!!" I tried to shovel in a few spoonfuls of squash and rice cereal, but between bites she decided to spit it all back out and scream and cry and scream and cry. I took her out of her high chair and put her in my lap and she settled down long enough to finish her food, but it left me covered in pureed squash and baby puke. Mmmm, yummy.
We knew she was really tired, so after dinner we decided to put her straight in the tub and then get her to bed. While I was still covered in squash and puke, I reached into the tub to turn on the faucet and, wouldn't you know, I accidentally turned on the shower instead! So there I was, soaking wet, covered in damp squash and baby puke. Humph.
We finally got the babe in the tub, at which point I decided I was exhausted and I was not in the mood to watch her play for half an hour. Right after I scrubbed her down and got her all squeaky clean, she proceeded to POOP in the bathtub, which sucked for me, because I put my feet in the tub when I give her a bath (after I clean them, of course - bath time is a great excuse for a foot bath...until your baby poops on you, at which point feet in the bath are not such a good idea). I screamed for Sylvain, he came running, laughed at me, and helped me get her out of the tub before she got herself all dirty. He whisked her off to her bedroom and there I stood, still covered in wet squash and baby puke, ankle deep in poopy bath water. Not my greatest moment.
I tried to have a glass of wine to help me settle down while watching some of the Emmy's last night, but I was so tired I fell asleep on the couch. Luckily, Sylvia slept all night, so my story could be worse. I woke up this morning, still feeling overwhelmingly tired despite having had a good night's sleep, and decided I could afford to snooze for six minutes. Oops. Those six minutes would have come in handy when I was running about 15 minutes late, scrambling around the house to find my keys. I could feel the tears coming and I decided to look for one more minute before calling in sick to work and staying home with the baby. Sure enough, I found them and we were on our way.
I dropped her off at day care and sprinted to my car, then, as I sat down and put my key in the ignition, I realized I had lost the automatic starter key pad that my loving husband paid way too much money for. I was so late that I decided not to go back inside and look for it, I just started driving away and fighting back tears. I drove to the front of the church and was about to turn onto the main road when I read the sign that said something really simple like "God is good." And I took a minute right then and there to put my foot on the brake, bow my head, and pray. I literally dropped my head onto the steering wheel, closed my eyes and begged out loud, "Please God, just help me make it through the day. See me through to the other side of this mess. I'm yours. I'm handing you all of this stress and chaos. Please take it. I need you to take it." And he did, of course, because that's his thing. He saw me through this day, and although it was a long one and a stressful one, and all I could think about was my comfy bed and my sweet snuggly baby, here we are at the other end of it, none the worse for the wear. I got my computer back thanks to my wonderful stepdad, AND I got my key pad back because Sylvain found it in the bottom of Sylvia's carrier.
And I didn't get pooped on tonight. I'll take any small success where ever I can find it. From now on, any day that doesn't end with getting pooped on will be a good day. I'll be saying my prayers of thanks (and forgiveness) tonight!
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Thinking Like a Parent
Now that I'm pregnant, I'm starting to look at everything differently. It's amazing how a 28 year old girl is so different from a 28 year old soon-to-be-parent. Tonight I had another "parent moment" while we were watching the new Coen Brothers Movie, The Serious Man. ("Why were you out at a movie on a Wednesday night?" you might ask. Well, because we're off school tomorrow AND Friday for no apparent reason. Our school district must really hate November's guts, because we're only in school for 16 days this month!)
So the movie takes place in the 60's and there's this awkward, red-headed Jewish kid who smokes a lot of pot with his friends. He and his friends are smoking up in the bathroom right before he has to get up and sing during his Bar Mitvah. Anyway, when he stands up and walks to the front of the temple, he is CLEARLY effed up. Red eyes, blurry vision, stumbly, slow...you get the idea. And the whole time he's walking and when he's getting ready to start, all the parents and adults are sitting there all proud and smiley and I'm like, "People! Can't anyone see that he's a MESS?! Wipe those smiles off your faces and somebody go GET MAD AT HIM!" Then I remembered how hard it was for me to tell when my friends were high in college (seriously, I got made fun of because I could NEVER figure it out). So I quickly tapped my husband on the shoulder and in the middle of the dark theater I said to him....
"You'll be able to tell when our kid's high, right?"
He said yes, and I relaxed with that fuzzy, warm, "Go team!" feeling. No kids sneaking drugs at our house!
So the movie takes place in the 60's and there's this awkward, red-headed Jewish kid who smokes a lot of pot with his friends. He and his friends are smoking up in the bathroom right before he has to get up and sing during his Bar Mitvah. Anyway, when he stands up and walks to the front of the temple, he is CLEARLY effed up. Red eyes, blurry vision, stumbly, slow...you get the idea. And the whole time he's walking and when he's getting ready to start, all the parents and adults are sitting there all proud and smiley and I'm like, "People! Can't anyone see that he's a MESS?! Wipe those smiles off your faces and somebody go GET MAD AT HIM!" Then I remembered how hard it was for me to tell when my friends were high in college (seriously, I got made fun of because I could NEVER figure it out). So I quickly tapped my husband on the shoulder and in the middle of the dark theater I said to him....
"You'll be able to tell when our kid's high, right?"
He said yes, and I relaxed with that fuzzy, warm, "Go team!" feeling. No kids sneaking drugs at our house!
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