Sleepless Night

Hear her coming
Down the stairs
Pilllow in hand
Stumbling past kitchen chairs

Climbs into bed
Utters a whimper and whine
Sinking sense
That a good night's sleep, will not be mine

Hour after hour
Tossing, turning
The fever's back
Her head is burning

Attempt to comfort
Attempt to hold
Pushes my hand away
And begins to scold

She won't admit to feeling ill
She says, she's, "FINE!"
At least, until...

The throbbing starts
In her little right ear
"Hold me Mommy!"
Just as I feared

The weekend, of course
Never fails
Will we get an appointment?
As she begins to wail

Some Tylenol
A sip of water
Fitfully drifts to sleep
My precious daughter

Thirty minutes later
Up again
I trust we'll sleep once more
But when?

Absorb the Pain

I've always been ruled by my feelings. Anyone who knows me well will agree that my feeling sense greatly overpowers my thinking sense, for better or worse. As a child, I always knew who was sad or who needed a friend. And historically, I've followed my gut more than my head.

In other words, I'm sensitive to the pain of others and I respond accordingly. There have been times that I've been overtaken by another person's emotions, teetering dangerously close to making those feelings my own. But as I've gotten older, I've learned how to have compassion for others without becoming a pain-leech.

With my kids, however, this is not so easy. When they are in pain, I seem to absorb it like a dry sponge. The sense is so profound that I can actually feel it in every cell of my body.

Let's take today for instance... this morning, I managed to slam my daughter's tiny hand in the car door. Honestly, I can't believe it's taken me six years of mothering to commit this common offense. The scene looked like this... I was climbing out of the car, into a snow bank, carrying three bags of stuff. My daughter was climbing over her brother in an attempt to get out of the car on his side. Somehow she managed to get her hand into the frame of the driver's side door, and I absently closed it, while reaching for my son's door.

Needless to say, she wailed! It took me a split second to realize what happened, but then I saw her little hand in the door and immediately experienced a flood of guilt and pain. I grabbed her, quickly examined her hand (it was fine, by the way. A little bruised, but otherwise unharmed), and held her against my chest. As she cried, I felt her pain vibrating through my body. It's a difficult sensation to describe, but I feel it whenever one of my kids is hurt (emotionally or physically). It's as though my entire being wants to stop their discomfort, so I in turn, take it on as my own.

I was still feeling the effects of the morning by the time afternoon rolled around. I got my second dose of pain after my son played a harrowing game of checkers with my Dad. My son cannot handle losing, EVER! Growing up, my siblings and I played a lot of games with my Dad and he never just let us win. We were taught the rules and we learned to play fairly. We also learned how to lose; since I was the youngest, I learned this lesson over and over again. Certain allowances were made when we were especially young and still grasping the concept of any given game, but we understood that we had to earn a win. This was an important lesson, because when we did actually have a victory, we felt genuinely proud! There was a deep satisfaction in knowing that we used our minds and skill, rather than having someone hand us a false-victory. My siblings and I are all very different, but to this day, we share this particular trait... None of us expect anything to be given to us on a silver spoon, and we accept our wins and our losses with humility.

Well, my son is still learning this trait, so he didn't accept his loss with any humility. He ran away, crying wildly, throwing insane statements into the air, such as...

"Pop needs to go buy a new grandson!"
"I want my Pop to GO AWAY!"
"Pop HATES me, that's why he wants me to lose!"
"He doesn't love me at all!"

This causes me pain on so many levels! The fact that my son could say such awful things to my Dad is almost too much for me to bare. Knowing what a kind and generous person my father is, it's devastating to hear my child throw such venomous words his way. The pain is further intensified by the thought of my son actually believing such nonsense!

As I hold his sobbing, little body I feel the rush of pain once more. Pain for my son, pain for my Dad, and pain for me that I'm stuck in the middle.

This experience got me thinking... Mothers are often criticized for looking haggard or being too stressed-out, but this experience of pain has a lot to do with it. It's impossible to absorb someone else's physical, emotional or spiritual pain day in and day out, without ever wearing it on your own face. Most of us know that our children are their own unique beings, and we respect their need to have individual experiences apart from us. We know this in our heads, but in our hearts, it feels differently.

Honestly, I don't know if mothers can ever truly create this boundary with their children. Once you commit yourself to loving a child, you can't help but experience every sting of life through them. Since I know that pain is an essential part of growth and understanding, I will continue to guide my children down their authentic paths, knowing that they will inevitably experience bumps along the way. I will do this, because I want them to live and love fully and passionately, but I certainly won't get through unscathed. Too bad they don't make Spiderman band-aids for the spirit; God knows I'll need them!

The Not-So-Great Explorers!

Today was a balmy 60 degrees. It's been such a nice change, after all of the frigid, snowy weather we've had. It is a bit strange, though, to be walking through giant snow piles without a coat or gloves. Anyway, strange or not, I decide to take a walk in the woods. On the way out of the door my daughter says, "Can I come? Can I come?" She was so excited that I couldn't possibly say "no".

As soon as we arrived, she became a fireball of energy, even more so than usual. She was wearing her trusty goggles and big old snow boots, and was totally ready to go! For some ridiculous reason, I thought that the snow would have been a bit more melted than it actually was. In fact, we had to climb through a 3-foot high snow bank just to get to the path, which was completely hidden by about 2 feet of snow. Still I thought, maybe in will be better once we get further into the woods. Once again, I must admit that I'm from New Jersey. My expeditions in the woods have been few and far between, so I'm not fully skilled in wilderness preparedness.

From this point on, it was basically a comedy of errors. Literally, with every other step we sank down about a foot into the snow. Even my little pipsqueak couldn't take a step without sinking; it seemed that the snow had melted just enough to make it impossible to walk on. It's no joke pulling yourself out of the snow repeatedly; it's exhausting! I realized very quickly that snow shoes were definitely in order, but of course I didn't have those, so we forged ahead in all our ridiculous glory! 

Once we were about halfway down the trail, my daughter suggested we turn back. We turned around, but then she quickly changed her mind back to the original plan, so once again we forge ahead! With each step things got more and more comical. My little one found a walking stick, figuring that that would help her navigate the snowy path, but really it just gave her something else to get stuck in the snow. Every few feet she would fall down, readjust her goggles, reclaim her walking stick, and awkwardly get back on her feet. Each time I laughed a bit harder, all the while struggling not to take a nose dive myself.

Finally my daughter decided that we were making very little headway, so we better turn around (again). We stumbled along down the trail, and then she stopped in her tracks... "Mommy, I have to pee!" My response, "Of course you do!"

Obviously, I asked my daughter if she needed to go before leaving the house, but she was way too psyched about our adventure to be bothered with such trivial matters. So, we find a tree. This is one of those moments when you think, "Man, boys have it so much easier!" I struggle to get her into position, but apparently she really did have to go! Inevitably, she winds up peeing all over her pants, snow boots, and... her hand! By now, I'm really laughing, because we're nowhere near the car, she's soaking wet, exhausted, and will definitely be wanting a piggy-back ride... which I will not be giving (she's covered in pee after all! Occasionally mothers actually have a gross-out limit.)

As expected, she asks to be carried, but I'm way ahead of her. I say. "Let's race!"

She says, "On your mark, get set, go!" Then she takes a face-plant in the snow.

Once again, "On your mark, get set, go!" Another face-plant.

Third times a charm, "On your mark, get set, go!" Face-plant, barely missing a pile of dog poop!

Now I realize what a jerk I am, because I'm still cracking up! I scoop her out of the snow and guide her towards the exit. We climb the giant snow bank and practically collapse out of the woods. She can barely walk another step, until she spots a mud puddle. Within seconds she is diving into the dirty water, happy as a clam! She's covered in snow, pee, mud, and a trace of dog poop. This was clearly a successful outing!

I'm a Good Mom... Really!

Why do our kids like to do things to make us look bad? We love them, feed them, clothe them, but still they make us look like chumps at every possible turn! Since I'm the one who's home with the kids, it's usually me in the chump-chair, but yesterday, it was my husband. This lucky guy got the enviable task of taking our son to the dentist. When they got home, I knew immediately that it had been a "special" visit.

He walked through the door with steam pouring through his ears and fire blazing in his eyes. Our conversation followed something like this...

"Good visit?"
"The whining, oh the whining!"
 "Any cavities?"
" I just can't believe the whining!"
"He does like to whine, so... any cavities?"
" I'm so upset right now, I can't even believe it!"
"So... how bout' those cavities?"
"No, no cavities. His teeth are fine, he was just so obnoxious, I was SO embarrassed!"
"I hear ya sister!"

Apparently, our son complained, whined, and belly-ached through his entire dental visit. There was a lot of, "Are we done yet?" And "Ouch!" (even when the hygienist wasn't touching him). The embarrassment escalated further when the hygienist asked,

"So, does he eat a lot of fruits and vegetables?"
And our dear son said, "No." (Granted, he was being honest, but man! There he goes making us look bad again!)
Then she asked, "Do you floss?"
To which he replied, "Nope, never!"

Let's put in this way, he was so ill-behaved that the hygienist opted to skip x-rays, saying, "We don't want to push our luck." And the dentist decided to save his examination for his next 6 month visit. But guess what? The little "pain in the ars" still got stickers!

I truly felt sorry for my husband last night. The frustration, mortification, and utter confusion exuded through every one of his pores; a feeling I know all too well. But there was still a hint of, "Whew, at least it wasn't me this time!"

But today, I got my comeuppance for thinking such an awful thought. Once again, I had the extreme honor of hauling my daughter out of a childrens museum kicking and screaming. All the while, singing her three favorite words... "I HATE YOU!"

Sugar & Spice & Heartbreak

My husband and I are pretty lax about Valentine's Day. Some years we celebrate and others we kind of just let happen. There's usually some form of flowers or candy or goofy gift, but we tend not to go overboard. My daughter, however, thinks that this is the best holiday, EVER! A day devoted entirely to pink and red hearts, what's not to love, right?! She loves the festive glitter and garish pinkness. Honestly, it's hard not to get excited when you see the holiday through her eyes. My daughter, like my son, also happens to be a bit of a romantic, so this day is especially appealing.

Now, I've already told you about my son's heartbreak of the year, in my post, "Purple Dress"; here's another tear-jerker for you! Just like my son's sweetheart, my daughter's sweet baboo has also moved away. She planned on giving him a special card before his departure, but a snowstorm got in the way of their farewell. When she realized that she wasn't going to see him, she said, "But Mommy, I didn't even get to tell him that I love him!"

I couldn't let this love go unrequited, so I contacted his mom to get their new address. Unfortunately, her card did not make it there today, because she went a little crazy with the glitter glue. I had to allow for a few extra days of drying time. She, however, did get something in the mail today... a beautiful photo card of her "boyfriend".

She beamed when she saw his sweet little face! She spent the next several hours carrying around his picture. At one point, she came up to me and said, "Mommy, my eyes are watering." I said, "Oh yeah, why?" And she responded, "Because I miss my boyfriend so much!" Ahhh, young love!

This little boy may not know that he is her "boyfriend", but that doesn't seem to matter to my daughter. For her, this love is real, and his valentine made her day more special than any amount of pink glitter!

I Love me Some Gnomes!

How great is it that there's a movie out entirely devoted to gnomes?! This evening, my family and I went to see the epic film, "Gnomeo & Juliet", and it did not disappoint! Perhaps the story line was a bit predictable, but hey, why mess with the classics?! Actually, they did change the story line a bit, so it became predictable in a child-friendly sort of way. Regardless, I'm psyched anytime I get to "hang out" with some gnomes. At this very moment, I have a lovely gnome couple standing by my tree, buried under about 2 feet of snow. Gnomes, however, are highly adaptable, so they don't mind. My husband bought me this gnome-set for Christmas, to replace my beloved, Jim, the gnome. May he rest in "pieces"... I totally stole that from the movie! I told you it was epic!

Authentic Scottish gnomes. I took this picture myself. The "mooning" gnome is by far my favorite, obviously!

Excuse me, While I Crawl Under this Rock

Every few days, my daughter manages to say something that leaves me searching for cover. She doesn't mean to be rude or insensitive; she just happens to be very curious and inquisitive. This curiosity often leads to questions, asked loudly, almost always in public. Her points of interest usually involve people's physical appearance. Being the extrovert that she is, she tends to think out loud, rather than in her head. Needless to say, her thoughts are mildly filtered at best.

A few months ago, she decided to start questioning me at the library counter. She asks, "Mommy, why is her (the librarian's) belly so big?" Obviously, I ignore the question; hoping, desperately that the librarian won't understand her 3-year-old speech. My daughter never allows herself to be ignored, so she continues to ask the question, louder and LOUDER each time! The librarian finally says, "I don't have a big belly, don't say that." Clearly, she was offended. Needless to say, we don't take books out on Tuesday anymore!

This embarrassing incident is slightly my fault, because I rave about my daughter's round belly on a daily basis!  I love her belly! She loves her belly! So I know she wasn't being mean to the librarian, she was simply interested in why her belly was round too. But how do you explain tact to a 3-year-old? Answer... you don't!

Today she asked one of her favorite public questions, "Mommy is that a boy or a girl?" She loves this question; it pops up regularly, especially when she sees a woman with short hair.When this happens, I quickly pull her away, hoping that the victim didn't hear the question. Today, however, she asked the question about the woman following us into the public bathroom.

This woman did not have short hair, but she was wearing a uniform and had a deep-ish voice. So, my daughter asks the question, and I quickly herd her into the handicapped stall, so we have more room to maneuver. Of course, the man-ish woman, goes into the stall next to us. The next few minutes proceed like this...

"Mom, I said... is that a boy or a girl?"

In hushed tones, "Honey, don't ask that. It might hurt her feelings! It's a girl!"

In louder tones, hoping to cover up the sound of my daughter's voice, " Come on sweetie, you need to pee, let's go pee!"

"No, Mommy, THAT'S A BOY! Is that a boy or a girl?"

In hushed, angry tones, "Honey, I told you to be quiet! Don't ask again! It's a girl!"

Once again louder and desperately attempting to change the subject, "So, did you have fun today? Are you excited about school tomorrow?"

No dice

"Mommy, IS THAT A BOY OR A GIRL!"

Now, covering her mouth.

"Mommy!" (in muffled tones)

Pushing my hand away

"I SAID..."

Hand covers her mouth again, thinking to myself, "I can't believe I'm holding my palm over my daughter's face; this is definitely not the best way to handle the situation!"

I hear the woman come out of the stall, and another woman starts asking her questions. This other woman has a walker and is waiting for the handicap stall. I can't bring myself to exit the stall until I know the boy/girl has left the bathroom. I feel very guilty for making the woman with the walker wait, so I opt not to use the bathroom myself. I'll just hold it, it's okay.

Once the coast is clear, we exit the stall. I apologize to the woman with the walker, quickly wash hands, run out the door, and don't look back. Where is that darn rock when you need it?!

To Fight, or Not to Fight

We can all agree that parenting is tough. But I think we should also acknowledge that marriage is no cake walk either! Even the most loving of couples can find themselves at odds from time to time. So I ask you, how do we handle these stormy moments?

Before having kids, my husband and I would throw daggers at each other from across the room (figurative daggers, of course!) We would spit fire at one another for a while, and then cool down the inferno with some chilly silent treatment for several more hours. I remember one particularly exciting argument early on in our relationship... my husband stormed out of the house screaming, "I'M JUST GOING TO GO PLAY IN TRAFFIC!" My response was, "GOOD, HAVE FUN!" I couldn't take his threat too seriously, since he was heading for the road in front of our house, which was a dead end with a 15 mile an hour speed limit. I figured he was pretty safe.

Over the years, our arguments have become fewer and farther between, but they still creep up on occasion. It's impossible to merge your life with another person, without ever experiencing disagreements, hurt feelings, or sheer annoyance! When kids come into the picture, however, it's harder to weather these times. There never seems to be a good time to fight, but is it wise to avoid fighting in front of the kids altogether?

Obviously, I don't condone regular screaming matches around children. Watching your parents argue is extremely upsetting for kids; it brings up intense feelings of fear and anxiety. How can a child feel safe, when their parents are acting completely out of control?

That being said, it can be equally damaging to have parents who never argue. Everyone has a friend whose parents divorced once the children reached adulthood. Often these adult children are completely floored by the news! Usually the first thing they say is, "But I never even heard my parents fight." Just because people aren't fighting doesn't mean they aren't harboring some serious resentment. Often it's the things we don't say that breed the most anger.

So where does that leave us? As parents, we can't participate in all-out fistycuffs or regularly inflict the silent treatment on one another. This makes me wonder..... Can the occasional fight be okay, as long as we fight fairly?

Kids should understand that adults don't always get along. Most of us do our best to respect and appreciate one another, but sometimes even the most mindful people fall short. Maybe it's okay for them to see our imperfections, wounds, and shortcomings. Perhaps, they should see that people can get super-angry at each other and still truly love one another.

Whenever my husband and I do fight, I really work at being honest and fair. It's extremely challenging to be compassionate when you're angry, but then again, that's a sign of true compassion. It's easy to be loving when your boundaries are not being tested. It's a piece of cake to be kind when no one is pushing your buttons! I may not always say the right thing and my emotions can get the better of me, but I still force myself to think of love, even when I'm hugely pissed off!

I want our children to stand up for themselves. I want them to speak their minds. I want them to have opinions and values to fight for. But I never want them to fight dirty. It is possible to tell someone that their attitude needs adjusting, without telling them that they're a piece of crap! It's also possible to share opposite opinions, without making the other person wrong. It's even possible to set aside one's own hurt feelings, in order to see the situation more clearly. Of course, doing this in the heat of the moment is not always easy. However, I think our children stand a much better chance of taking the higher ground, if they've had the opportunity to witness it through their parents.

So next time your spouse hurts your feelings or fails to appreciate your efforts... think, before you react. Take a breath and choose your words thoughtfully. Reacting from pure emotion generally ignites the situation, and rarely sets the stage for a fair fight. Don't allow yourself to get dumped on, but don't do the dumping either. Set the record straight, speak honestly and from the heart, and avoid hitting below the belt. Teach your kids that there's a healthy way to disagree. And when you do dish out a low blow, own up to it and apologize accordingly.

And if at all possible, don't go to bed with anger still brewing. Negative emotions in any form are toxic, but negativity that's had an opportunity to fester is far worse! So do yourself a favor, let it go! We are all "works in progress"; hopefully, tomorrow we'll be closer to becoming a masterpiece that we are today.

Picky Eaters

This post is for anyone with a particularly picky eater. I happen to have a child who shuns every vegetable he meets and stares at most dinners with disdain. Even the typical "kid foods" like mac & cheese and chicken nuggets upset his gag reflex. Only very select smells, flavors, and textures pass his test. Needless to say, feeding this child is a Herculean feat.

His staple foods consist of... cereal, oatmeal, granola bars, cinnamon toast, grilled cheese, Nutella on bread, pancakes, and waffles. I do my best to make these limited selections as healthy as possible; I buy or make whole grain breads, add ground flax seeds to his cereal, and make his pancakes and waffles with enriched batter (although he prefers the frozen waffle variety!) Despite my efforts, I still see monumental room for improvement. I've used every trick in the mothering book, such as...

• Offering vegetables repeatedly. They say a few times should do the trick. Yeah right, I'm still falling short after a few years!
• Sneak veggies into tomato sauce. Well, what if your child doesn't like tomato sauce?
• Offer small quantities of a new food. What if he refuses to eat even one pea? Is that quantity too large?
• Offer no other options. This suggestion generally ruins dinner for the whole family, no thanks!
• Don't let him leave the table until he's finished. That's a great idea; let's create all negative associations with food. I imagine he'll thank me for that one later!

So you see, this is an ongoing struggle in our home. I have a solid understanding of nutrition and I love to cook, but my son just won't take part in my culinary adventures. Unless, of course, my kitchen expeditions include baking cookies, cakes, muffins, or pastries. In these cases, he's an eager explorer!

But tonight, I was determined to get a vegetable in my son, and not just any veggie- spinach! I've made my kids crazy juice combinations and smoothies in the past, but I've never successfully passed off a green drink. The stars must have been aligned today, because both of my kids polished off their vitamin-packed beverage! My son obviously wanted to know the green ingredient, but my husband opted to bend the truth slightly in this particular circumstance. Fearing that total honesty would result in our son "totally" not taking another sip, he answered with, "Food coloring, green food coloring." Ahhhh, parenting, it can tarnish even the purest souls!

So, if your child falls into the, "I'm going to shoot myself if I have to make another pancake for dinner!" category, then I suggest you make this. I've coined this drink the "Green Monster". I figured adding "monster" to the name would make it that much more appealing, and what do you know, it worked!

Green Monster

2 hand fulls of fresh baby spinach (organic, if possible)

1/2 cup plain yogurt (Greek yogurt is best)

1 cup milk (more if you prefer a thinner consistency)

1 banana

Honey to taste

Add all the ingredients into a blender and blend away! Note, blend mixture long enough to puree the spinach leaves completely (you wouldn't want those pesky green bits to ruin your efforts!) Another tip... place in the freezer for a little while to achieve a milkshake-like consistency. Enjoy!

Vampire Fangs

I sometimes worry about whether or not I'm providing my kids with the best childhood possible. Who am I kidding? I worry about it all the time! Money is always tight, so we can't go to as many places as I would like. My husband has to work overtime every week, just to make ends meet, so we have less free time together as a family. We don't live on a perfect tree lined street, where we walk everywhere, and know all of our neighbors. And my kids don't spend hours a day exploring the great outdoors, which seems like something that children should get to do.

Needless to say, I spend a fair amount of time agonizing over the day to day. But then I look at a photo like the one above, and it forces me back into the moment. My kids may not have perfection... no one does, but they do have freedom to be themselves. Our home provides a sacred space for our family to grow. They can be who they want, when they want, without judgment or humiliation. Even when they choose to be a hybrid Batman, vampire, Harry Potter!

We may not have the funds or the time to travel around the world (or even the state!), but I can make our home a place of love and creativity. I trust that this is a significant ingredient to a happy childhood. So when my kids are grown, they may not have memories of fancy vacations, but hopefully they'll remember the vampire fangs!