Merry Christmas and Happy New Year... What are your resolutions?

Today, we were driving in the car, listening to a Disney Christmas CD. Yes, it is as nauseating as you imagine it would be. Goofy singing “all I want for Christmas is my two front teeth” could actually put a woman over the edge. But it keeps the kids quiet and that goes a long way in my world.

 So, we’re driving along and my daughter asks for the song “twinkle, twinkle, Shabbat light. To clarify, this is the tune of “twinkle, twinkle, little star” with the words rewritten for my kids’ Jewish preschool when they celebrate Shabbat.  I almost laughed out loud. It should come as no surprise to me, but my kids don’t get that Jewish Shabbat and Christian Christmas have no real relationship.  Reminded me of bilingual kids that start a sentence in one language, finishing in another… totally unaware that this might cause confusion for some.

We are officially raising our kids inter-faith! Pretty cool, if you ask me.

So, here we are. It’s the holiday season. Thanksgiving has passed and Christmas is rapidly approaching. The air is getting nippy and evidence of the holiday season has erupted everywhere the eye can see.

I LOVE the holiday season. I adore it. The air feels warmer, ironically, as the temperature is actually dropping. (At least where I live…) People are nicer, somehow. And I don’t think that it’s an act. I firmly believe that most people are nice, given the opportunity to slow down and actually see the world they inhabit. But there’s something about the holiday season that brings out the desire to focus on community and sharing. I’ve never actually completed an unbiased study, but my day to day perception is that we are all more likely to hold a door open, smile at a stranger or take an action that will benefit another person even when it poses no benefit to us.

Oh, and I simply adore the tradition of holiday cards. Especially now with the variety of choices for photo cards. All these people spread out geographically, who never see their friends’ kids grow bigger… once a year, we get to see what their family looks like and do a mini catch up on their lives. When we put the cards up on the wall, it’s like we spend our hours surrounded by loved ones. Priceless.

In past blogs, I spent a little time talking about New Year’s resolutions, claiming that these resolutions are often better placed on birthdays. A more personal start and end to the year, one that you share with only a select few. This year, however, my kids just turned 3 and WOW are they 3. Both of them. At the SAME TIME. While I love my twins, it’s sort of a cruel joke. I mean, think about it. BOTH KIDS firmly in the “do it myself” stage, long before they can actually do “it” successfully or within any rational time frame.  Tantrums from both kids because they have wrong color chair… really? Isn’t one of them supposed to be posing different problems, so that my insanity can encompass some variety? Hmmm….

But I mention this not to gripe. I mention it to repent, in a bizarre sort of way. My kids are driving me a little nutty, and I haven’t been as calm in response to this feeling as I would like. I know… we’ve all been there. And I know… I’m probably doing a better job than I am giving myself credit for. This isn’t a new conversation. But I’d like to do better and the approaching New Year has me thinking about change.  New Year’s resolutions are on the brain.

The problem with change, I believe, is the following. We are not who we are as a result of what we do. I actually think it’s the opposite cause and effect. We do what we do as a result of who we are.  So, consequently, if we are to change our actions we have to begin with the most basic and essential questions, posed inward. And we have to answer ourselves honestly. We are obligated to evaluate the parts of ourselves that allow and encourage us to make the choices we make, and to recognize the consequences of these choices.

If we truly want to make changes, then we can’t focus on our actions. We need to focus on our needs and incentives. Simply putting in a calendar reminder to go to the gym doesn’t help me get physically fit. I know that I should go. It’s in my head. When I don’t go, it’s not because I forgot, like an innocently forgotten item on the shopping list. I didn’t forget. For better or worse, I simply did not make it a priority. If I want that to change, I need to rearrange my priorities… and that’s probably the hardest thing to do. For all of us.

So, as 2011 comes to a close and 2012 begins, I would like to extend a wish to each and every one of you!

May your holiday rejuvenate your spirits, so that you have the courage to make the necessary changes in your life.  May you have the perspective to know which agendas truly deserve your energy and attention, and which ones are best discarded in the interests of more sleep or relaxation.

And most importantly, may you have more happiness than stress in this holiday season, so that you begin the New Year refreshed… and ready to make the changes you dream about.

Hey there... my kids are 3. Does that make me an expert?

Hey folks… my kids just turned 3. In raising young kids terms, that practically makes me an expert. Right? Of course right!

 So, in the spirit of embracing my expert status, I’d like to share a few sniglets of knowledge that I have acquired in the last 3 years, thanks to my darling children.

1-      I’ve learned any child product that guarantees results must have some really tiny fine print. Especially if success requires cooperation on the part of the child. It’s like those “Your child will read or your money back” programs. Seriously? My kids, like most others, are not performance monkeys. The fine print probably says something like … “Your child will read (if you stand on your head for 12 consecutive hours and sing ‘Zippity do dah’ at the same time…” Good luck with that.

2-      I’ve learned that the best food to eat is whatever is on the adult’s plate. No, it doesn’t matter that it all got served from the same casserole dish. And no, they don’t care that the food on your plate hasn’t been squished and squashed like theirs, so you don’t want theirs. You want yours. Yours is better, plain and simple. And yes, occasionally you will find yourself eating your dinner off the little red Elmo plate while your child enjoys your un-mutilated meal off of yours. Sigh.

3-      If you have an hour and nothing is going to explode from neglect, take a nap. Don’t organize your kitchen. Don’t worry about your hair. Certainly do not complete a task for someone else that will cause you more stress, unless it’s really important. Take a nap, or at least find a way to relax some. Maybe check your email or chat on the phone. Ok… if organizing your kitchen is fun, go ahead. But nobody else cares about your kitchen, so certainly don’t do it for them.

4-      When your gut tells you that your one last “really quick” errand might not be the wisest of ideas, you might want to cut your shopping trip short. Most, if not all, of my disastrous errands were ones that I desperately wanted to accomplish so I ignored the writing on the wall. Go me for wanting to accomplish all the items on my list!

5-      Don’t change clothing in the middle of the day, unless you are attending a formal event or the weather makes the mess a larger issue. Wet stains in the middle of winter, for example, are not the best idea. Otherwise, feel free to be like me. You know… the mom with the messy kids in Target. Most of lunch got wiped off. That’s not too bad. The majority of the remaining chocolate is up the nose, to be later removed in the pre sleep bath. Awesome. Let’s go shopping while we’re all still in a good mood.

6-      Sleep is paramount. It comes above all other activities. At least this is true in my house. Think about how you feel with little sleep, and then delete the life experience that has given you maturity. Yup, that’s your kid. I know people that play with sleep, and they do get more done than I do. But they don’t get it for free. In my world, screw the errand. I want my kids to sleep.

7-      Sometimes the discomfort of the solution is far better than the discomfort of the problem. In my existence, the diaper bag is a perfect example. It gets a little heavy sometimes, but I don’t mind. Why? Because it contains the essentials to thwart the vast majority of tantrums. Thirsty? Have no fear. I have juice boxes. Hungry? Hold on a second while I dig for a veritable variety of yummy snacks. You made a mess? No worries… I’ve got wipes.  I couldn’t care less about the slight ache in my back. It’s far less annoying than the ache in the head from kid whining. At least to me.

8-      Ignoring gets a bad rap. Sometimes, it’s essential. Like, oh… for example… recently on a Costco trip. My son’s incessant whining was driving me crazy so I simply ignored him. He yelled. He writhed. He made a scene. I shopped. Paid him no mind. Tantrum didn’t last long and his sister got a ton of attention and praise for a being a wonderful “big girl”. Woo hoo… two points for mommy.

9-      Your needs, as an adult, are not as immediate as you think. Sure, you’re hungry. You’ll live. And do you really know how long you can hold it when you have to pee? A long time… I assure you. When my kids were in the stage of the huge double stroller and some bathrooms didn’t have a handicapped stall big enough for the stroller, I learned this the hard way. Fun? Not so much. But it was educational. And it was HUGE for character building.

To those of you that have children much younger than mine…let this educate you on at least one mom’s perspective of where you are going.

To those of you that have children older than mine…  Well, I’ll keep looking out for your blog, so that I can get a better perspective on my future. J

Wait... they understood that?

I am officially organized for my kids’ 3^rd birthday party. So much to think about. It has my head reeling. No, not the planning, mind you. We’re keeping it pretty simple. No fancy food, no elegant location, no expensive party favors. You know… Costco is catering with chips and dips.  The local supermarket is providing the cake. Like I said, keeping it simple… just the way mommy likes it.
So why is my head reeling? I’m so glad you asked.

I can’t believe they’re turning 3. Weren’t they born yesterday? That’s what it feels like sometimes. And as they get older, I am blown over by the capacity to understand that my children exhibit. And the way this capacity increases daily, or at least it seems to me.

Their sense of imagination has exploded, to the point that when we see a “broken” truck (i.e. the cab of the truck without a trailer attached… all the wires showing) my daughter is convinced that dinosaurs will fix it. She says it with total certainty. She KNOWS that it’s true. My son makes everything into a moving vehicle, makes bent legs mountains and is completely certain that everything he can’t see is hiding somewhere funny.

When Halloween was in the air, they were constantly taking in all the pumpkins and witches and they seemed to be really enjoying it. I had told them about trick-or-treating many times now and I think they got it. Unlike last year, when they had no clue, this year they really enjoyed it. How cool is that? They may even be looking forward to Christmas on some level.

In terms of daily functioning, their expanding comprehension is quite often a blessing. They now grasp a sense of time, when it’s put in terms of events. Recently, when my husband was away, I had a morning off while the babysitter came. When I told the kids I was going “to work”, they looked panicked. (For the record, I wasn’t going to work. I was going to Target, but I wasn’t going to tell them that. They would want to go with me, and the whole point was for me to go ALONE.) I quickly reassured them that I wouldn’t be gone long and that I would be home for lunch. They both paused, dramatically. “Lunch with mommy”, they asked me. “Yes, lunch with mommy” I confirmed. They stared me down for a moment, until they decided that I was to be believed and relaxed. Panic finished… they understood when I was coming home. Well, sort of anyways.

 And as much as I hate to admit it, I like that they now have a good grasp on behavior and consequences. The proof? When I threaten to implement the consequence of an unwanted behavior, that “oh shit” look crosses their faces and they stop. (Well… most of the time anyways). When I was forced to drag them away from a lunch line at a local farm, to the car, they knew why they had to wait for their lunch and couldn’t eat with their friends. They understood that, had they listened to Mommy even remotely, we would not have left. Will they repeat said behaviors? Of course! But that’s evidence of immaturity and impulsivity, not understanding.

 I look forward to watching their understanding expand as they get older and “wiser”. I look forward to observing their reactions and hearing the answers they give to my questions.

Should be interesting!!!

Why I love my Iphone

This Thanksgiving has had a commercial theme for me, despite my very recent comments about the lack of commercialism that should surround this sacred American holiday. Shame on me. This is not to say that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy the time I spent with my family. It does mean, however, that I am currently the proud owner of both a smart phone and a nook. Woo hoo! Way to get a kick in the ass, landing smack dab in 2011 (Just in time for the new year.. how ironic!) . I guess I just sort of bypassed the last 10 years, technologically, considering this is my first smart phone and my books have all previously been on paper.

I am already enjoying my newfound technological status, a bit too much actually. It’s sort of embarrassing. I’ve been wanting a smart phone for a few years now, but the budget didn’t agree. The balance has changed somewhat.

It got me thinking, though, about technology. I keep thinking back to the movie “contact”. You know… the movie where Jodi Foster finds the aliens, meets one that looks like dad, and starts an inter-galactic revolution despite humble beginnings.  Matthew Mcconaughey plays the role of a science advisor to the president and ponders the role of technology in the world. He states that he is not inherently anti technology. He simply wonders if the presence of technology actually brings us closer (as we perceive it to) or if it takes us further apart. Makes us less bonded as human beings, less connected to our human relationships.

It’s an intriguing question. In a previous job, we teachers spent a lot of time emailing each other. And it was very useful, quite efficient. I could email a time sensitive question to a teacher with a different planning period and she could respond when I was teaching. By the end of the day, the problem was often resolved. On the flip side, however, how many times did I sit at my desk typing an email to someone 2 classrooms away, when I could have had the conversation more quickly and face to face? Would the result have been of higher quality? Would we have gained some higher insight into the larger issue if we had conducted the conversation in person?

This is the cause of much dispute, especially between generations. Moms and dads shaking their heads in sadness, lamenting the time their kids spend texting when they could be “really talking” to their friends. Kids getting more and more screen time. The cyber bullying that makes the press, making us believe that bullying has actually increased over the years. Whether this is actually true or our awareness is more acute is a great question to debate as well.

And don’t get me wrong. I’m not anti-technology. For me or my kids. One of the reasons I insisted upon an e-reader with color capacity is that I would have killed to have it last week when I was stuck at the car dealership for an hour with two cranky kids, waiting for my battery to be replaced.  Coloring and eating snack worked, but I worked too… I worked hard. Putting on some well timed Dora would have saved me at least two Advil and a third cup of coffee.

I also believe that they can learn some very valuable lessons from technology. Some of the current programs you can download are pretty darn cool and the educational programs have the potential to be very innovative. Add that to the fact that my kids learned most of their letters from a really great phonics DVD that they LOVED beyond words… There are bonuses.

But when is it too much? When are you leaving your children too much to the screen time babysitter? And is that really such a problem? If your children are well adjusted, happy kids… do you really need to beat yourself up about it? After all, we are all just doing what we have to do to get by sometimes. Especially with young kids.

On Thanksgiving morning, I called one of my friends via my Iphone using Facetime. I LOVE facetime. It’s awesome. For those of you that don’t know, it’s basically like Skype on the Iphone and it rocks. Normally, I have to call and settle on her voice. This time, I got to see her face and my kids got to wave at her kids and blow kisses. How fun! Are you truly going to tell me that this didn’t increase my kids’ connection to those they love? I believe it did. It wasn’t about the technology; it was about the faces on the other side. Pure and simple. Human connection.

So, as the holiday season takes hold, I am going to remind myself to focus on the people in my life, not the “stuff”. And sometimes this stuff will be the key to connecting me to those wonderful people. I will remind myself that having a nook to plunk in front of my kids is not an adequate replacement for good quality time, all of the time. If it allows me to make dinner, or simply breathe for a moment… great. But I still need to be there. Really be there. Not just in body, in spirit too.

I think that this is why I love the holiday season so much. Makes us stop and think. Brings up questions that we can’t truly answer, but the pursuit of answers makes us better people.  

This holiday season, may we all find ourselves one step closer to the answer to one question in our hearts and minds.

As we ponder Thanksgiving...

It’s almost Thanksgiving, again. Amazing how fast a year passes. Anyone who’s my friend me on Facebook knows that around this time of year, I dedicate myself to only posting positive thoughts in my updates. It’s not always easy, given that my life has potential for escalating stress and turmoil, but I do my best to stick to my resolution. Typically, I succeed without too much effort. This year, despite raising two almost three year olds, I have had good results. Yup, I refrain from posts such as “… has had a long ass day trying to keep two toddlers out of the fountain at the mall”. I keep those updates for my phone calls to my fellow moms/girlfriends.

The other day was National Premature day, celebrating premature babies and the medical professionals that care for them.  I embrace that thought, with more respect and admiration for the NICU staff that cared for my kids than I can possibly explain. Sometimes gratitude goes beyond words.

My kids are in preschool now and their class held a Thanksgiving feast. It was beyond adorable! All 12 kids in their little school routine, songs and games… what a beautifully chaotic sight. The best part? Watching my two little preemies, in amongst their little friends, totally normal little people. The value of that sight is immeasurable.  Beyond words. Beyond logic. It makes my heart hurt with joy.

I LOVE Thanksgiving. It’s definitely in my top ten of holidays. Not only is it a family holiday (making it immediately awesome) but it’s also the least materialistic holiday of the year. No presents to wrap, no cards to buy… it’s all about the enjoyment of those you love. Oh yeah, and eating as much good food as possible never hurts. It inspires people, even the least optimistic of us, to give thanks for what we have. Even if we yearn for more. And let’s be honest… we all yearn for more (or less) of something.

Sadly, it seems that Christmas invades earlier every year, converting Thanksgiving into a backburner holiday. It used to be an unwritten American law that Christmas decorations were banned until black Friday. Now, it’s not even thanksgiving yet and Christmas decorations have been ever present for weeks now. Christmas music is already playing in the stores.  It’s kind of sad, if you ask me.  Consumerism has officially taken over.  What’s next? Christmas in June? Yeech…

I have found a silver lining to this phenomenon, however. The Salvation Army bell ringers are out in force, located strategically in front of every supermarket and I am sieving the opportunity to morph this particular Christmas tradition with a Thanksgiving message. When we pass one of these bell ringers, we stop. Every time. I take two quarters out of my wallet. I give one to each kid and I remind them that there are kids who don’t always have yummy snacks and who don’t have toys. I explain how sad those kids are. Then, I tell them that this money will help buy yummy snacks and toys to make the sad kids happy again. They drop the coin in gleefully and I applaud. Do they get it? Hmmm… No, not really. But they do understand that they are helping. And I’m laying the foundation. They will get it someday and I’m starting now. Besides, kids always understand mature concepts before we expect them to.

Thinking about others who are in need makes me appreciate what I have.

So... This Thanksgiving. ..What am I thankful for?

I’m thankful that most of my loved ones are healthy and safe. Those that are in distress will survive their current situations, becoming stronger for having endured.

I’m thankful that my kids, despite a rough start in life, are growing up healthy and strong. Any of my gripes regarding their behavior are consistent with that of a “normal” child of their age and will pass as they get older.

I’m thankful for the balance of my life. Not only do I have the opportunity to spend good quality time with my kids and husband, but I also have access to a part time professional life that keeps my brain from getting too mushy or frustrated.

I’m thankful for my husband, a kind and strong man, and a great dad. He, along with my children, is my home.

I’m thankful for the friends and neighbors that surround me and swoop in to help out when need calls. I never have to feel that I suffer alone, when I do suffer pain or inconvenience.

This Thanksgiving, I find myself in a good place, both figuratively and literally. I’m fortunate and I don’t dare forget it.

I sincerely hope that this Thanksgiving finds all you of you in the same place.

The Mom Resume

A long time ago, when I was a full time middle school teacher, we interviewed a candidate for an open position. There was a gap on her resume, which coincided with the birth of her son and his first few years of life. When we questioned this time, she explained the gap, and our concerns were addressed. We moved on to more “relevant” topics of interview conversation.

In retrospect, we missed a golden opportunity by not staying on that particular topic for a few minutes. Why? Because, in our desire to assess her “real” skills, her “professional” skills, we bypassed an entire set of skills that were probably equally valid. We bypassed her “Mom Resume”.  

A what? A “Mom resume”? What, pray tell, is that?

A mom resume is that particular set of skills that you either 1- didn’t have or 2- didn’t have to such an advanced degree before you were a mom. The skills that allow you to survive motherhood, and provide you with the possibility of enjoying your job as mommy.

Did you know that researchers compared the hormone influxes of a toddler to those of a teenager? Not shockingly, they found the level and degree of influx to be very similar in size and pattern. I mean really, isn’t a teenage tantrum really much like the toddler version, with improved vocabulary?

Because this woman was interviewing for a middle school teaching position, being interviewed by middle school teachers, I’m actually somewhat embarrassed to say that we never interviewed her for her mom resume. Some of her skills acquired as a mom could have easily increased her skills in expertly managing middle school girls. To give you some insight, I‘ll share a small part of my mom resume with you.

1-    I can now name all the Thomas characters without even flexing a cognitive muscle.

My son was looking for a particular train the other day, so there I was sitting between two baskets filled with train toys, sorting through… looking for one particular and essential friend. As I found the other wheeled friends, I took them out and handed them to him, naming them as I went. And it hit me, I know all the names. Do I care about Thomas and his little engine friends? Not, not really. But my kids do, and if I have any chance of caring for them successfully, I better be in tune with what THEY find to be important. You don’t have to be rocket scientist to understand how that correlates to excellent middle school teaching.

2-    I can push my individual needs to the side in the interests of “getting it done”.

While I have never considered myself to be a self centered person, I did have much higher expectations of how and when my personal needs would get met. Being hungry would cause high levels of grumpy, for example. And if I had to pee, well… waiting too long wasn’t really an option. I didn’t call in sick to work when tired, but I certainly didn’t perform at my best level either. Now? Well… let’s just say that I have revised view on what qualifies as an immediate need. I can take quick showers and have no time to style my hair, wait long periods of time for the bathroom and maintain myself despite being hungry, when feeding both myself and the kids is not a valid option. I take good care of my kids and the house, even when I’m too tired to think rationally. Now THAT is a professional job skill that should be in high demand.

3-   Multi-tasking galore

Attempting to maintain a house, a schedule, run errands and care for two little people requires a level multi tasking I have never before attempted. And I’m getting damn good… You have to pack the diaper bag, wash the breakfast dishes and keep him from stealing her toy all the same time, despite the events taking place in three different locations in the room. You also have to know who is playing with what and which toys will cause potential problems, and when. Oh, and apply this knowledge to avoid any massive blowouts (emotional or fluid based) on the way out the door. One day, I will become Elastigirl (from “The Incredibles), and I will be psyched.  Have you managed a middle school classroom? Must I explain the value of this skill? 

4-   Effective selective hearing

Most of us have decent hearing, at least according to a medical professional that assesses us. But selective hearing? Effective selective hearing? That is an acquired skill and mine has grown to a level of EXCELLENCE. I can hear everything the kids are doing and saying while I’m making dinner but I hear it through a filter that only allows it priority when absolutely necessary. Non-consequential whining… might as well not be happening because I don’t hear it. The 100^th request for something that I have already denied? Huh? I’m sorry… did you say something? I didn’t hear anything. This is SUCH a useful skill! And have you met middle school girls recently?

5-   The hand-free 4 point hold

Before kids, my life was pretty tame and the art of restraining another human being was not in my repertoire. I always figured that if I had to restrain one of the kids, my size advantage would make it a small endeavor. Wrong, so very wrong! Needless to say, my kids don’t enjoy diaper changes and one pissed off kid can be pretty darn powerful when armed with a dirty bottom and a case of the wiggles. I have mastered multiple techniques by which I can hold down a complaining child, while keeping my hands free to work and his/her hands out of the poop. Go me!!! While I’m not sure this particular skill translates literally to the middle school classroom (gosh, I hope not…) the figurative comparison translates well. Can you take a resistant victim and still get done what needs to be done? Hmmm…

6-   Bribery expert

I know, I know… all the current literature clearly states that bribery is unwise when dealing with kids. They need to build internal desires to be good and providing them with external persuasion (bribery) is not consistent with this theory. They call for “incentives” instead. Incentives my ass! Have these experts ever dealt with toddler twins? I think not. Bribery is the only way I can get my daughter to keep even vaguely quiet at nap time, as she’s not going to sleep. It’s also the only way to get them out of a toy store when I can’t avoid completing the errand with “helpers”. And if you don’t bribe middle school students, even just a little… well, good luck to you. You have a short career ahead of you. Despite their developing bodies, they are not mature. And they’re not supposed to be yet. Bribes do wonders and the concrete knowledge they will attain via bribery will be essential when their internal desires become more prominent.

And so I will ask, as I ask so often… what’s my point?

My point, my dear friends, is that moms are to be respected, admired and revered for their knowledge. Don’t be fooled by their messy hair and stained clothing. They are professionals.  Salute them as you pass. They have earned it!

And let the differences emerge...

When I was pregnant with my twins, I used to sit and feel them moving around when they got really excited. Chocolate was pretty good for getting them excited. I’d put my hands on my enormous stomach, one on top of each baby. She would kick and he would wiggle, she’d kick, he’d wiggle… and they would just keep it up until they got tired. Or maybe they just got bored of the game. I joked that the nature of their movements must be an indication of the people they would become. She’d be feisty and he’d be naughty.

When they were born, their differences were evident immediately. Their sleep patterns differed and their needs varied depending on mood and time of day. They may have shared my body and they may always share a birthday, but they are NOT the same person. Far from it.

As they have grown up, the differences have only become more distinct. Her passion, his sense of calm, her independence, his love of cuddles. It’s so much fun getting to know them, watching them get to know themselves.

They are now firmly in the toddler stage, for better or worse. Their identities are blossoming and every day I meet another element of who they are and what they are becoming. It’s incredible.

Here are some examples:

Table manners:

We made chicken and rice for dinner and it was pretty yummy. The kids agreed, they ate a ton of it. The table manners, however… well… let me elaborate.

My daughter is meticulous and detail oriented. She took her fork and painstakingly inserted it into the pile of rice. Then she slowly raised the fork, hand vibrating slightly, to her mouth. You could see on her face that she was PRAYING for it to not fall. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it all fell. She would watch the descent of rice pilaf with despair or smile with glee at the enormous bite of food. Either way, it was a process. And she was determined to do it right. And when it spilled on her chair, she was dismayed. I had to clean it off in order for her to calm down.

My son. Hmmm… he took his hand and shoveled it in. With zeal. I could have sworn a rice bomb exploded around his chair. Seriously, I didn’t know that rice could travel so far. Did it grow legs when I wasn’t looking?  He was in heaven. Between shovels, he would grin at us and exclaim “yummy rice!” and then recommence the food expanding process. We had to laugh. What else can you do?

The backpack:

Now that my kids are in preschool, they have backpacks. His is Elmo and hers is Dora. They LOVE their backpacks. But I can’t get either of them to wear them on their backs. I’m not entirely sure why, not that it really matters.

When we go into school, I ask the kids to hold their own bag and I hold their hands as we walk through the parking lot. It makes me realize how big they are getting.

My daughter holds her bag tightly to her chest, her available arm wrapped around the bag. When I release her other hand she uses that arm to clasp the bag as well. This Dora bag is a blessed item.

My son drags his bag behind him. He loves his Elmo bag, but he’s just not precise or careful. He’s too busy watching the cars and people to think about the backpack. Sometimes he almost trips over it or lets it get in front of his legs, causing him to trip. Luckily, Elmo breaks his fall and ouchies are avoided.

The crib:

My daughter’s crib is her sanctuary. She is an avid collector of every soft toy that enters the house. She has managed to acquire over 90%, I would assume, with the exception of the few that we have called off limits, due to my son’s desire to not lose them as his own. When in her crib, she arranges her little friends and plays games with them. When I tuck her in at night, every toy must go in exactly the right place, and that place differs nightly. It’s quite a process.

My son has a few valued friends in his crib, but his pooh bear is the only one that is truly irreplaceable and invaluable. His other little friends can be wherever, he doesn’t mind. Whatever dude! As long as I have my Pooh bear!

As the kids get older, I look forward to meeting the parts of their personalities that will continue to emerge. I’ll try hard not to predict, it might blind me from seeing their true selves. I’ll do my best to stay open minded, see how it goes.

I’ll hold on tight and enjoy the ride. After all, isn’t that why we have kids?

The serenity of a sick day...

The tummy bug that has been circulating my kids’ preschool room has hit our house. It hit me first, gave me a few days of total food aversion. Now, a few days later, my daughter is in the middle of the same phenomenon. It’s day 2 ½ and I thought it was done. Sadly, when she threw up all over the kitchen this morning, my plans to go to work were thwarted. (Picture me, in work clothing, undressing a vomit covered child, followed by cleaning the floor while fending off two kids that want to “help”.) Fine… you can laugh! I don’t mind. I’m over it by now.

My son isn’t really sick, at least not by a doctor’s definition, but he’s not totally well either. He’s teething horribly and the drool he’s producing could seriously fuel a nation in drought. In fact, I might not inflict him upon that nation. It might actually be too much liquid, create mass flooding. He has a cold and his mood has been somewhat foul.

Long story short, a sick day wasn’t wasted on him.

Nobody wishes for a sick kid, for a myriad of obvious reasons. Quite simply, who wants illness when you could be experiencing good health? Right? Of course, right.

That said, it’s day 2 of being stuck at home with the kids and I have been enjoying some of the hidden benefits of this unfortunate situation. With two sick kids any rational mom drops all expectations of being productive. Laundry? I think not. Real independent play? Hmmm… not so much. Cranky kids don’t always share so well.  But that’s ok. I don’t work and play well with others when I feel like crap, and I have years of maturity on them. Why should they?

So, in the spirit of at least attempting to be the mom I aspire to be, I dropped all my expectations of functionality and embraced the role of caretaker in mess ready clothing. We read every book on the shelf. And wow, do we have a LOT of books!  It had been ages since we looked at some of them; it was a nice reminder of the literary variety represented in our personal kid library. And some of these books are really cute. We were able to experience them on a whole new level, reminding me of how much they have matured in the last few months.

Meals were haphazard and random. As queasy stomach was the symptom of the day, I was NOT going to feed them a huge meal. Seeing it again in the diaper is good enough for me, I don’t need a revisit in any other form, thanks. We had tiny little meals every 45 minutes or so and everything stayed where it was supposed to. Excellent.

I also caught up on my hug quota, big time. Day to day life, with healthy kids, allows for a tremendous amount of movement and rushing. In the rush of getting things done, we sometimes forget to stop and snuggle. I’d like to think that I accurately hear the difference between a distress cry and a tantrum cry, but there’s gotta be some screams in the gray area between. Busy moms sometimes reprimand when a comfort hug would have been much more kind. Oh, and much more effective as well.  I would be arrogant to claim that I don’t fall victim to such mistakes. With two sick kids, I was kid piled all morning, two munchkins curled up in my lap happily. My shirt may be snot covered, but my heart is happy and light.  And my kids’ glassy eyes are twinkling with love.

Physical health is a huge topic for most parents, but emotional health? Even the best of us lose sight of it. I don’t know about you, but I LOVE mental health days every once in a while. No responsibilities, no errands, no schedule.

I guess sometimes we have to stop and think. We like to complain that we don’t get what we wanted, that we lost control of our day. But maybe we got what we needed, even if we didn’t realize at that time.

I will tell you this. In my house, we will all be better off for having had two days of rest, whatever the cause.

And I appreciate it.

Thank you, Brad Paisley, for your wonderful insights!

I love country music. I really do. Let me tell you why.

This morning, as I was waiting for our morning activity to open up, we were just hangin’ in the house. It was going pretty well until I could feel the crankies start to creep in. Come on… you moms out there know exactly what I’m saying. It’s a little squabble over a toy that is usually peaceful or a gesture that’s usually taken as play, but causes tears this particular time. Independently, those incidents don’t mean much. Combined, you know that you’re doomed if you don’t act quickly and strategically.

It was time to save the room with some music.

I love music. Always have. I actually love most kinds of music in existence, just not all at the same time. Everything has its moment. I even love a little Raffi or Wiggles when I am totally immersed in mom mode. But this morning, I was only partially in mom mode and I needed a little adult to keep me sane. So I went for the country. Yee haw! My kids love music almost as much as I do, especially my son. I have no way of knowing if they love it for its own value, if they love it for the elevated mood it brings out in me (logically improving my patience and parenting skills) or if it’s really some combination.

The first country to appear on the alphabetized list on the iPod was Brad Paisley, and he was a fine choice. I hit play and the mood evened out beautifully. Ahhh. Contented sigh. I danced while I finished some dishes and they played contentedly once again.

Here’s why I love country music. It has soul. It has content. It has depth. I mean REAL depth. I can appreciate the modern dance music with the best of them, but it doesn’t really say anything worth hearing. Its true value is in the rhythm of the music and the release you get from moving to it. The lyrics… well… let’s just say they’re there to fill space. All they discuss is sex, really. And while I have no objection to the discussion of sex in music, I’d like the lyrics to move beyond that topic as well. I mean really, how much of life’s relationships is really occupied by sex anyway? If your life has any real substance, the number ought to be somewhat low and should probably cluster in specific moments.  (In my humble opinion, of course) Country music, however, is like a sociological thesis in 3 minutes. A melodic short story. It’s fantastic. Irreplaceable.

One of Brad Paisley’s songs is about a boy who misrepresents himself in internet chat rooms. In real life, he’s a sweet, smart, overweight 15 year old that gets his snacks made by his adoring mom. Online, he’s a suave, sexy, 30 something with multiple homes, fast cars and a bangin’ six pack. I have to laugh, its every teenage boys dream. Made me remember my teens, although my perspective came from the feminine angle.

The song that really hit me, however, talked about Brad (presumably) writing a letter to his 17 year old self, assuring him that life would get better and that he would survive this epidemic called the teenage years.  He updates his younger self on future events, reassuring him that he will pass chemistry (and not get killed by mom and dad). That he will get married, have kids, and that high school will be but a fuzzy and sometimes endearing memory. He reminds his young self to show appreciation for those that are helping him along his way and to value family members that may or may not live to a ripe old age.

And I got to thinking…

Wouldn’t that be nice? To get a letter from yourself during a particularly difficult time. I can think of a few times in my life that I would appreciate the value of such a letter.  Just before I graduated college, such a letter would have given me comfort, convinced me that my lack of clear, future professional vision would not cause me to be a lifelong failure. So many of my friends knew exactly what they wanted. Or at least they thought they did. I was clueless and terrified. I would have adored knowing that my winding path to insight brought me the wisdom I needed to get myself where I am now professionally. And I like where I am now, it’s a great place to be.

Personally, at home with two young toddlers, a letter from the future self would be of high value. Documentation consoling me that I would reconnect more my profoundly with my inner self and that occasional adult tantrums didn’t wreck my children’s self esteem would be downright lovely. I’m not always as patient as I would ideally like to be and seeing that my “oops” moments didn’t do too much damage would be a comfort.

Wouldn’t that be splendid?

Guess we’ll all just have to go with faith. Well, that is until they create time travel.

Mommy's morning off...

My husband had been away for a week… a very long week. Before kids, it wasn’t such a big deal. I missed him and all, but life went on. I took care of myself and he came back with good stories. All’s well that ends well. But now… with kids… well…  It’s not quite the same situation anymore. You know the expression “How can I miss you if you won’t go away?” Well, by the end of the week, that’s sort of how I was starting to feel about my kids. I love them, but I was starting to contemplate what I could do to get some alone time. And I was thinking BIG.

So when my husband got home, I informed him that I was due a morning to myself the next day, a Saturday. He agreed without hesitation. Smart man.  He knew a man is only as happy as his wife. In my daydreams during the week, I had wonderful visions of how that time would be spent. A few hours in Panera with my laptop and no kids? Hmmm… Maybe a walk in the park.  Without kids. That could be nice. The possibilities were endless.

That Saturday morning, after breakfast, my husband looks over at me and says, “So, where are you going?”. The moment of truth. How big should I dream?

What did I choose? Don’t yell at me. Ok? I know I should have gone more extravagant. I KNOW that in all the mommy newsletters the experts tell you to save “you” time to do something just for yourself. No housework. No laundry. Read a book or go shopping. (And not food shopping…)I didn’t listen.

Where did I go? Nowhere. My husband decided to take the kids out to play for the morning and I stood there in my house. Silence. Total and utter silence. It was amazing. No kids yelling, no requests for juice, no desperate pleas to find a Thomas train. I sat there for a minute, immobilized in joy, and then I got to work. I poured a second cup of coffee, and I cleaned out the fridge. I cleaned out the drawer in my bedside table, and the downstairs coat closet. There were some shoes in there I hadn’t seen in ages. Not that I missed them.

I changed the sheets on all the beds. I ran a load of laundry and I folded the clean laundry. I got organized for a goodwill drop off.

Maybe I’m nuts. Or maybe my mom/wife spirit has taken over my woman spirit. (Terrifying as it may be.) But it felt good. Really good. The house looked seriously tidy and seeing the goodwill bags ready to go was positively thrilling. Scary thrilling… where did I go wrong?  The 20 year old version of me would have been horrified at that which brings me joy.

In the beginning of summer, I posted a blog about being a packrat and attempting to get the disastrous mess that is our house under control. I was working on the false assumption that having more time would result in higher efficiency. Really? When will I learn? The only time I get anything done is when I’m already too busy. Having “extra” time only makes me lazy. Gives me the urge to sit and relax. Dangerous… wanting to sit and relax. J

So today, on a day when I had so many other tasks to accomplish, I tidied up like crazy.

We humans are nuts. We moms are nuts. Certifiably nuts.

Motherhood- A great job with a crappy contract!

This weekend has been… uhm… let’s call it eventful. My kids, who are usually pretty good at being cooperative, have been cranky, tired and uncooperative. Outings that are normally a pleasure felt like an enormous chore. Sort of sad, really, as I love the time I spend doing fun activities with my kids. It’s disappointing when it doesn’t go well.

I’ve been feeling a little off, a little less patient, a little less tolerant of those minute to minute struggles that are inherent to developmentally normal toddlers.

And as I sat on my sofa, at nap time, dreaming about a vacation from my family, I experienced a revelation.  Being a mom is a great job with a crappy contract.

Having a child, being a parent, is an international goal. And a damn strong one. If it weren’t the human race would die out. I mean really, how many women crave 10 months of morning sickness, heartburn, back pain, swelling of the extremities and leg cramps? And labor? Seriously… who wants that? It stinks.  None, they crave the baby the pregnancy will bring them and they tolerate the unfortunate symptoms for the sake of the end goal.  They even come back for more; have multiple children via multiple pregnancies.

We either really want our children or we are gluttons for punishment.

I love being a mom. Anyone who reads my blog regularly knows the extent to which I love my kids. But sometimes, I have no interest in cleaning noses and refereeing between two kids over a silly plastic toy. Sometimes, I just want a day off to read a book and hear my own thoughts.

It’s a good thing there’s no mom contract to sign, because a day off wouldn’t be in it. Neither would the guarantee of a full night’s sleep, time to eat a meal or time for a shower. In fact, if the contract were to be drawn up honestly, would anyone sign it? I probably wouldn’t. Who, in their right mind, signs a contract that includes “restraining 35 pound toddlers in public shopping venues” as part of “other duties as assigned”? We would also have to include a few notes about the role of human Kleenex and creator of meals that get dropped on the floor carelessly.

I’d sign that. Wouldn’t you? Riight… me neither. But I would never trade my kids or my family life, not for all the money and freedom in the world. They are my heart and soul.

I guess that’s what makes me a mom. And I guess I did sign the contract. Silly me.

All I really need to know I learned on Sesame Street

I find it intriguing, the different sides of myself that I reveal with each blog entry.  In some entries I reveal the hidden (or not so hidden) geek in me. Other entries reveal my sappy side. A few have revealed my daily frustrations. Come to think about it, reveal may not be the best word. This implies I knew about it before and am choosing to allow you a glimpse of it on purpose. Sometimes I knew it well, long before writing. Other times, the process of writing about it is how I realized it’s there in the first place. Hmmm... Maybe that’s why I love writing as much as I do.

I like to think that this blog will reveal the depth to which my inner child controls my soul and it comes to you with the letter B and the number 5.

I love Sesame Street. I’m told that I loved it as a kid and now, in adulthood, we have it on our streaming Netflix so I can access episodes whenever I want… Uh, I mean whenever the kids want. Riiiight.

So, we were watching an episode the other day and it was about Baby bear going to school for the first time. Obviously, it’s designed to teach kids about the first day of school and ease their fears, answer their unspoken questions.  A noble cause. He goes to the storybook community school (being part of the 3 little bears, of course) and I just about cracked up watching them represent his first day. For example…

His classmates and teacher were an enormous source of amusement for me. They included:

1-    Jack and Jill- Jack kept asking Jill if it was his turn to carry the pail yet and Jill kept saying no. He kept falling over and saying “ouch, my crown”.  Then she would fall over too.

2-   Hansel and Gretel- They arrived, bustling, and speaking with exceedingly strong German accents. Their solution to every problem… throwing breadcrumbs gleefully into the air, of course.

3-   Mary and the little lamb- Mary with her little lamb, Mary complete with an overbearing Scottish accent and a crook. She informs her little lamb that coming to school with her is “against the rules”. She actually croons the word “rules” in accordance with the associated accent.

4-   Little Red Riding hood- She approaches every female and calls her grandma, remarking swooningly on the size of her eyes.

5-   Peter Piper- He actually introduces himself as the one who picked the pickled peppers. No joke.

6-   Mother Goose- She’s the teacher, of course. And she’s got the hat.

When the kids at the storybook community school get started, what activity do they complete? A puzzle. And what is the image in the picture? Humpty dumpty, of course! Can they put him back together again? That one actually made me snort a little. The kids turned to stare at me with questioning eyes. Clearly, snorting is not a noise they are accustomed to hearing from my mouth and they wanted to investigate the source. When they discovered that I wasn’t ill, they went back to watching their show.

I would like for you to picture the scene. My family room is covered in toys, like usual. The kids are sitting on the floor, watching the show and I am cracking up, giggling like a child. This simple humor is beyond my intellectual mind, it’s just too darn hilarious.

It reminded me of the Renaissance faire and the myriad of shows that are presented there. The humor, while quite racy and adult, is appropriate for kids because it’s subtle. I would happily bring my young kids to the shows (provided they would sit still long enough) because the adult humor would go right over their heads. It’s the well timed looks, unfinished sentences and double meanings that create the humor, not profanity.

So, to all of you out there who create children’s programming, I say THANK YOU!  Thank you for creating a multi dimensional experience, during which both my kids and I can enjoy learning and humor from the same source. Your contribution to this world does not go unrecognized.

The way things combine...

The other day I was starving (ok, not starving… but pretty darn hungry) when the kids went down for a nap.  When I came back downstairs from tucking them in, I opened the fridge and it hit me. Like lightning… PB & J with a glass of chocolate milk. Yes!!!

Ok, it’s not gourmet. And it’s not even particularly healthy. I like peanut butter by itself, but when you pair it with jelly it’s simply delicious. Add some chocolate milk and you’re golden. At least I am. You can eat whatever you want.

As I was sitting at my kitchen table in blessed silence, contemplating the beauty of life, I got to thinking about how things combine and what it means when they pair off.

When my husband I first met, we were both already good people, but we each had our own struggles. I struggled with staying calm and he struggled with large social environments with many unknown factors. There was many a time when he had to calm me down in a stressful situation. And equal numbers of times that he “used” being with me to quietly assess the room to allow for comfortable socializing. Years later, I am significantly calmer and he is much more social. We’ve had a good impact on each other.

As a teacher, my professional life is defined by the combination of chemistries. I firmly believe that I am a good teacher, but not every student is going to like me. I’m loud, for one. And I’m in your face. Sure, it’s in the friendly way, but it’s still right there in your face. If you are trying to hide, my classroom may be your own personal hell. Not everyone likes to be taught by everyone.

The classroom experience is also impacted by the combination of temperaments of students, creating room chemistry. This chemistry can be wonderful or it can be disastrous. Throw in a dash of teacher personality and you have your final product. Let’s just hope it tastes good because it’s the recipe for the semester and it ain’t gonna change.

Recently, my husband and I decided to divide and conquer. It was between dinner and bedtime and we each had an errand we wanted to take off the “to do” list. I took my son to the supermarket and my husband took my daughter to home depot. My son was an ANGEL. Totally cooperative. Not a single moment of frustration. Really? I love my son dearly, but angelic is not the word I would use for him. Deliciously naughty. Sure. Angelic? Huh?  He was just as angelic as my daughter had been, way back when… when I took her alone for Saturday mornings.  Clearly, they are not the same apart as they are together, for better or worse.

I suppose it’s logical. When the situation doesn’t necessitate compromising, you are far less uncomfortable. It’s much easier. Not necessarily better, just easier.

Interesting… I’m going to remember that the next time I meet someone for the first time and it doesn’t go particularly well. Maybe I’ll change up some ingredients next time, see if it improves the mood.

You never can tell.

It's a chocolate Zen thing...

My kitchen smells awesome. It’s like a chocolate bomb exploded. Yummy…

About 30 minutes ago, the counters were covered with bowls, wrappers not yet thrown out, various cake ingredients and spilled flour. What a divine sight. The homemade icing was simmering on the stove and the cake was busy baking in the oven. The sink was overflowing with dirty dishes and a batter bowl was eagerly awaiting a vigorous licking.

Is there any better way to spend the hours after the kids go to bed? Not if you ask me…

It’s a Zen thing. You know that thing that makes your soul settle comfortably and your body relax.  That thing that makes you feel at home in your own body, in that perfect place between bored and active.  Focused yet calm.  You know… a Zen thing.

I have always loved to cook. At least in my adult life. I love the mess that is the kitchen in the middle of a recipe. I love the smells of cooking food, the sounds of food being chopped and sizzling in a pan. The feel of hands, wet from food and the sight of a finished meal on plates. Now THAT, my friends, is what I call instant gratification.  Excellent.

Everyone has something that they can identify as their Zen thing. At least I hope so, for their sakes. Some people cook, other people garden. Others knit or crochet. Playing on the playstation probably qualifies for some. I know people that see exercise as their Zen moment of the day. Still others have a location; the mountains or near water. Maybe they love to go fishing? Whatever the activity or location, having a Zen thing is essential, in my humble opinion. It’s the ultimate relaxation.  It reconnects you to your soul in a life that is far too busy for anyone’s good.

It's been a long week and tonight, my soul needed to bake. And it felt GOOD.

That religion thing...

My husband and I are in an interfaith marriage. That is to say, I was raised Jewish and he was raised Christian. I went through many of the traditions of Judaism and I even enjoyed some of them. My bat mitzvah was a wonderful event. Once it was over, however, I chose to cease my religious studies and didn’t reconnect with organized religion until my college years. My husband, well... Let’s just say he’s anti-religion.

Faith, however, is a different subject entirely. There is a grand assumption that faith and organized religion are inherently connected. I disagree. In my opinion, attending a service in a religious building does not necessarily give you faith. Alternatively, a lack of presence of organized religion does not mean that an individual lacks faith. In my humble opinion, the two exist independent of each other, with the possibility of coexistence.

I am a prime example of strong faith with little desire for organized religion. I have always had faith, a generalized sense of certainty that everything would eventually work out, either by my good choices or some form of outside intervention. When I was pregnant with my twins, I found myself in a state of serenity and happiness. A little back ache? No worries… came with the territory. I was having my babies. My feet a bit swollen? Who cares? My babies were healthy. I was unwilling to complain. I simply KNEW that it would all end well. And it did. (Well… despite a few bumps, a significantly early arrival and an extended NICU stay…)

My husband fell victim to the wealth of the internet, looking up every problem that can occur in a twin pregnancy. Unbeknownst to me, he spent the entire pregnancy in a mild to medium state of concern, never quite resting happily in the low grade stress of anticipating your children.

I sometime wonder if those with faith handle stress and distress more effectively. If you feel certain that all will end well, it’s easier to relax.

Growing up, I found myself drawn to religious environments, even if I wasn’t fully dedicated to the complete message being delivered. I spent 2 years in a private high school, and we attended chapel a few times a week. The chapel itself was a beautiful room, with gorgeous stained glass windows, well situated for ideal flow of sunlight. Cloudy days were hypnotic, with a wonderful “fuzzy light” filtering through the shadows of the room. The “sermons” discussed friendship and community, and were rarely pure religion. Being a music person, I loved the hymns. They FELT good to sing.

When I have traveled overseas, visiting cathedrals was always a favorite activity.

When I became a staff member at a Jewish camp, years later, I expected to tolerate the daily morning service and other religious elements during the daily routine. In reality, I loved it. They were kid led, so they were down to earth and grounded to real life. Kids don’t do lofty or arrogant. It’s awesome.

The best, however, was the dancing. The dining hall (on rainy days) or the basketball court (on nice days) became a dance arena for Israeli dancing. And wow, was it a party. I had never seen religious music have that effect on a room. Being a dancer, I was in heaven.  

My children started preschool this fall and we enrolled them in a Jewish preschool. We didn’t actively search out a Jewish school, or even a religious school, but we found ourselves there when we researched the schools that were in our price range with our interests. Our second choice was a church preschool and it was second choice because it was a very new program, less well established.  Being a teacher, I wanted a well established learning environment for my children. Overall, we found that religious preschools were more spiritual, took more opportunities to teach core values. That was important to us.

So what does that mean?

I’m not entirely certain, to be totally honest. At the moment, we are content to raise our kids on family holidays (because the family is the focus) and give the preschool a chance to infuse some religious values into our kids. In the future? Who knows? I look forward to seeing how it unfolds, with complete faith that it will turn out well, the way it is supposed to.