Don't Carpe Diem

I was at play group the other day, dreading the fact that in four hours I was going to be hauling a screaming little boy out of a pool after swimming lessons. All those moms were going to stare at me and pity me. All those well behaved kids were going to watch Seth and thank their lucky stars they didn't share their juice boxes with him. (Metaphorically speaking, of course.) Why can't he just be grateful I'm doing something fun with him? Why can't he just know I'm trying to be a good mom?! I didn't want to do those fun mom things if he was going to act like this. I was totally, completely and utterly mortified by my son's behavior. And it made me feel kinda guilty.

Then one of the other moms mentioned an article. I looked it up and decided all good moms need to hear this. So here it is. I got the original article here.

Every time I'm out with my kids -- this seems to happen:

An older woman stops us, puts her hand over her heart and says something like, "Oh, Enjoy every moment. This time goes by so fast."

Everywhere I go, someone is telling me to seize the moment, raise my awareness, be happy, enjoy every second, etc, etc, etc.

I know that this message is right and good. But, I have finally allowed myself to admit that it just doesn't work for me. It bugs me. This CARPE DIEM message makes me paranoid and panicky. Especially during this phase of my life - while I'm raising young kids. Being told, in a million different ways to CARPE DIEM makes me worry that if I'm not in a constant state of intense gratitude and ecstasy, I'm doing something wrong.
I think parenting young children (and old ones, I've heard) is a little like climbing Mount Everest. Brave, adventurous souls try it because they've heard there's magic in the climb. They try because they believe that finishing, or even attempting the climb are impressive accomplishments. They try because during the climb, if they allow themselves to pause and lift their eyes and minds from the pain and drudgery, the views are breathtaking. They try because even though it hurts and it's hard, there are moments that make it worth the hard. These moments are so intense and unique that many people who reach the top start planning, almost immediately, to climb again. Even though any climber will tell you that most of the climb is treacherous, exhausting, killer. That they literally cried most of the way up.
And so I think that if there were people stationed, say, every thirty feet along Mount Everest yelling to the climbers -- "ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF!? IF NOT, YOU SHOULD BE! ONE DAY YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU DIDN'T!" TRUST US!! IT'LL BE OVER TOO SOON! CARPE DIEM!" -- those well-meaning, nostalgic cheerleaders might be physically thrown from the mountain.

Now. I'm not suggesting that the sweet old ladies who tell me to ENJOY MYSELF be thrown from a mountain. These are wonderful ladies. Monkees, probably. But last week, a woman approached me in the Target line and said the following: "Sugar, I hope you are enjoying this. I loved every single second of parenting my two girls. Every single moment. These days go by so fast."

At that particular moment, Amma had arranged one of the new bras I was buying on top of her sweater and was sucking a lollipop that she must have found on the ground. She also had three shop-lifted clip-on neon feathers stuck in her hair. She looked exactly like a contestant from Toddlers and Tiaras. I couldn't find Chase anywhere, and Tish was grabbing the pen on the credit card swiper thing WHILE the woman in front of me was trying to use it. And so I just looked at the woman, smiled and said, "Thank you. Yes. Me too. I am enjoying every single moment. Especially this one. Yes. Thank you."
That's not exactly what I wanted to say, though.

There was a famous writer who, when asked if he loved writing, replied, "No. but I love having written." What I wanted to say to this sweet woman was, "Are you sure? Are you sure you don't mean you love having parented?"

I love having written. And I love having parented. My favorite part of each day is when the kids are put to sleep (to bed) and Craig and I sink into the couch to watch some quality TV, like Celebrity Wife Swap, and congratulate each other on a job well done. Or a job done, at least.

Every time I write a post like this, I get emails suggesting that I'm being negative. I have received this particular message four or five times -- G, if you can't handle the three you have, why do you want a fourth?

That one always stings, and I don't think it's quite fair. Parenting is hard. Just like lots of important jobs are hard. Why is it that the second a mother admits that it's hard, people feel the need to suggest that maybe she's not doing it right? Or that she certainly shouldn't add more to her load. Maybe the fact that it's so hard means she IS doing it right...in her own way...and she happens to be honest.

Craig is a software salesman. It's a hard job in this economy. And he comes home each day and talks a little bit about how hard it is. And I don't ever feel the need to suggest that he's not doing it right, or that he's negative for noticing that it's hard, or that maybe he shouldn't even consider taking on more responsibility. And I doubt anybody comes by his office to make sure he's ENJOYING HIMSELF. I doubt his boss peeks in his office and says: "This career stuff...it goes by so fast...ARE YOU ENJOYING EVERY MOMENT IN THERE, CRAIG???? CARPE DIEM, CRAIG!"

My point is this. I used to worry that not only was I failing to do a good enough job at parenting, but that I wasn't enjoying it enough. Double failure. I felt guilty because I wasn't in parental ecstasy every hour of every day and I wasn't MAKING THE MOST OF EVERY MOMENT like the mamas in the parenting magazines seemed to be doing. I felt guilty because honestly, I was tired and cranky and ready for the day to be over quite often. And because I knew that one day, I'd wake up and the kids would be gone, and I'd be the old lady in the grocery store with my hand over my heart. Would I be able to say I enjoyed every moment? No.

But the fact remains that I will be that nostalgic lady. I just hope to be one with a clear memory. And here's what I hope to say to the younger mama gritting her teeth in line:

"It's helluva hard, isn't it? You're a good mom, I can tell. And I like your kids, especially that one peeing in the corner. She's my favorite. Carry on, warrior. Six hours till bedtime." And hopefully, every once in a while, I'll add -- "Let me pick up that grocery bill for ya, sister. Go put those kids in the van and pull on up -- I'll have them bring your groceries out."

Anyway. Clearly, Carpe Diem doesn't work for me. I can't even carpe fifteen minutes in a row, so a whole diem is out of the question.

Here's what does work for me:

There are two different types of time. Chronos time is what we live in. It's regular time, it's one minute at a time, it's staring down the clock till bedtime time, it's ten excruciating minutes in the Target line time, it's four screaming minutes in time out time, it's two hours till daddy gets home time. Chronos is the hard, slow passing time we parents often live in.
Then there's Kairos time. Kairos is God's time. It's time outside of time. It's metaphysical time. It's those magical moments in which time stands still. I have a few of those moments each day. And I cherish them.

Like when I actually stop what I'm doing and really look at Tish. I notice how perfectly smooth and brownish her skin is. I notice the perfect curves of her teeny elf mouth and her asianish brown eyes, and I breathe in her soft Tishy smell. In these moments, I see that her mouth is moving but I can't hear her because all I can think is -- This is the first time I've really seen Tish all day, and my God -- she is so beautiful. Kairos.

Like when I'm stuck in chronos time in the grocery line and I'm haggard and annoyed and angry at the slow check-out clerk. And then I look at my cart and I'm transported out of chronos. And suddenly I notice the piles and piles of healthy food I'll feed my children to grow their bodies and minds and I remember that most of the world's mamas would kill for this opportunity. This chance to stand in a grocery line with enough money to pay. And I just stare at my cart. At the abundance. The bounty. Thank you, God. Kairos.

Or when I curl up in my cozy bed with Theo asleep at my feet and Craig asleep by my side and I listen to them both breathing. And for a moment, I think- how did a girl like me get so lucky? To go to bed each night surrounded by this breath, this love, this peace, this warmth? Kairos.

These kairos moments leave as fast as they come- but I mark them. I say the word kairos in my head each time I leave chronos. And at the end of the day, I don't remember exactly what my kairos moments were, but I remember I had them. And that makes the pain of the daily parenting climb worth it.

If I had a couple Kairos moments during the day, I call it a success.

Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day.

Good enough for me.

***

Amen, sister. Amen.

Thanks Bethany for telling me about this article. It's probably just changed the way I view myself as a mother.

Developing Imagination

My almost 3 year old (can he really be that old already?) has quite the imagination. It makes me laugh out loud quite often. Like it did today when he picked up a plastic Easter egg, opened it, held it up to his chest and said, "Look, Mommy! I got boobs!" Yes, he's my son. No, he didn't get that from me. :)

Imagination is something I think a lot of kids today are without because they sit in front of the TV or video games and are endlessly entertained, leaving imagination unneeded.

Reading is a great solution to that. My sis-in-law uses making up stories with her kids as an imagination development tool. I love both of those things.

What are some things you have done/do/plan to do to promote the use of imagination in your children?

Your Average Day

I've been thinking about the last post for almost the last month. With a new baby in the house, a lot of things have changed - especially my schedule (note that it's almost 1 a.m. as I'm writing this).

Not only has my schedule been thrown off kilter, but so has my toddler's. Before N was born, we had a fairly good routine down for dinner and bedtime. Now, he does everything he can to stay up longer and longer and longer. I'd like to ask another question of all you moms out there because you are full of great advice that you definitely can't get in parenting books because your experiences are your own and most of you haven't published...at least not that type of book. (Wink at Deborah, since she's having her book published later this month!)

My question is what is your schedule like on an average day? I'm trying to fit everything back into my life that fit before, and it's like I'm doing a puzzle with too many pieces. I know it'll take time for me to see how everything can fit, or at least pare it down, but I'd really like to know how you other moms do things.

So, what does your average day look like?

Sick with the Flu

Being sick is never fun. Having sick kids is almost worse because not only does it tug at your heart strings, but if they're young, there's not much you can give them (medicine wise) to comfort them and help with their symptoms.

This last weekend, we had a little boy who was sick with the flu. He threw up BIG time three times during the day. Each one was on me. He'd come up and want to be held and then just toss his cookies all over the place. That night he kept throwing up every few hours, but it would mostly be Sprite and crackers that we had given him. I just felt so helpless, but I knew it was only the flu and that it wasn't really terribly bad. It just seemed worse because he was barfing on me.

What are some things that you moms out there do for your kids when they're not feeling their best?

Hug your babies

This morning my son woke up extra early. I gave him a bottle and some toys and left him in the crib so that I could shower. After I got out of the shower, he started to scream.

I took him out of the crib, sang to him and changed his diaper, put on fresh clothes and tried to read him a book. All the while he kicked and thrashed. He screamed at me and banged his head against the floor. (He's into doing that now and I hate it.) When I held him, he fought me. When I put him down, he crawled into my lap and laid there. If I sang "Popcorn Popping," he laughed. When I tried to hand him something we could play with, he screamed and threw it. This all happened in his room.

I figured maybe he wanted to play with his other toys, so I opened the door and tried to get him to walk out to the living room. He's been carried his whole life and has grown somewhat accustomed to it. When I try to get him to walk first thing in the morning or right after a nap, he screams and goes limp so that I'm basically carrying him by the arms.

By this point, my fuse had been lit.

"Fine," I told him, leaving him in a bawling heap in the hall. "You may sit there and throw a fit. When you are finished, come find mommy and we'll play."

I went and started scrubbing dishes. My boy came into the kitchen and started pushing me away from the sink and the counter. He stuck himself between me and the cupboard and pushed. I got the point and dried my hands. I picked him up and carried him to the living room where I tried to sit down and read books.

He screamed.

And so it went for another hour. He didn't want left alone. He didn't want held. He didn't want me to put him down. He didn't want food or his water.  He would laugh and be cute, but then if he thought I was looking at him funny or maybe not looking at him enough, he'd scream and kick and thrash.

I tried to put him down for a nap after he'd been up for 2 hours, but he screamed for 20 minutes and cried himself into hysterics. I picked him up and we started the whole thing all over again.

I told my husband I think someone took our baby in the night and left us with this screaming monster.

He then told me the tragedy of a little girl, three years old, who was run over by a truck yesterday afternoon. She died early this morning.

My baby's behavior did not change, but mine did. I was more patient with him. I held him and let him cry for a while until finally he was just flopped across my legs letting me scratch his back. I gave him Tylenol (he's cutting molars) and put him down for a nap again. Even though he's asleep, I'm having a hard time not going in there and pulling him out of his crib so I can snuggle him close. Because somewhere there is a mother who won't get that chance.

I'm sorry I took my baby for granted this morning. And my heart aches for your loss. I've shed a few tears for you, and I've said some prayers for you. I hope that you'll find peace. Soon.

Keeping Secrets

There are several secrets that have been deemed "worthy" to keep from your kids, such as Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. I grew up having the truth about these "people" kept from me and I was blissfully happy (and ignorant...and naive).

I still remember the day my parents took me into their bedroom to tell me "the truth", though I don't remember how old I was. I wasn't devastated, but I WAS disappointed. It took just a little bit of the magic away from my absolute favorite holiday (Christmas). After they told me, they asked me to keep it a secret from my 2 younger siblings so I didn't ruin their fun. I immediately went out to play with the rest of my family and almost let it slip. What can I say? I was VERY disappointed!

Although I plan to keep my kids as in the dark as I was during my younger years, I've thought about this off and on for awhile now and wonder...How old is too old to believe in these characters?

I have quite awhile before I even have to consider "telling" my oldest the truth about any of this, but since Christmas is just around the corner, which means that we're gearing up to play Santa, I thought I'd ask all you pros out there. When did you tell your kids "the truth"? How did you do it so you could still keep the magical secret alive for your younger kids? And, of course, how old do you think is too old for them to still believe?

Milestones

All children have milestones. Learning to roll over, eat by themselves, walk, going to the potty.....

All of these are great and we work hard to help our children learn these things. The other day one of my daughters learned to do something that I never considered a milestone, but the minute she said "mommy look what I can do" and TIED HER SHOE!...I swear the heavens opened and angels sang!

I don't know why this was such a huge thing for me, but it was. I was soo incredibly happy that she could finally tie her own shoe and not only that helps her sisters with it. I could just skip for joy in the mornings now when I say tell them to get their shoes on and (insert angelic music here) I don't have to tie six shoes!!!!

What are some things your children accomplished that were wonderful that you didn't think would be a huge deal but turned out to be wonderful for you?

Choices

When we were growing up our parents always gave us choices. Rarely was it 'no' or 'do it' and that's it...there was always a choice. Such as: You can eat your dinner or you can go to bed; or you can choose to be nice to your sisters or you can choose to go stand in the corner.

I, for one, hate being told what to do! I just hate that someone thinks they have the right to tell me what to do and me follow, I feel it takes away my agency, my right at choices. You always have a choice and how frustrating is it when someone assumes they can make that choice for you by telling you exactly what to do. If I feel this way, imagine how a child who is growing and learning and desperately trying to figure out who they are must feel when every decision is made for them?

So I vowed that when I became a mother I would do the same thing. Give my children choices...sometimes I'm sure they don't like the choices (ex: you can stop throwing a fit and go clean your room now or you can stand in the corner and then go clean your room (either way the room is getting cleaned...but its still a choice)) or it could be one they like (pudding or Popsicle). Now as parents we do have to make choices for them (Planning dinner, where they live, ect) but the little things, especially when it comes to their ideas, attitudes and emotions can be put into choice form.

It allows them to express themselves, to realize they always have a choice and to help in the decision making as well as helps us teach them to recognise the good and true choices. So hopefully when they are growing up they can say to themselves - I have a choice and I'm going to make the right one.

Mother's Instinct

Lately, my little boy has been unusually tired, always telling me, " I just need a little rest, Mommy," or, "I'm just going to have a little sleep."  He's also been complaining of headaches; "It feels like a drum, Mommy."  He's not even 3.

Now, I am not one to up and run to the doctor every time my child sniffles or coughs or has a fever; I don't like having to pay to be told to keep doing what I'm already doing.  HOWEVER, in this case, I just didn't feel right about his symptoms.  What almost 3-year-old do you know that just wants to rest?  Or complains of having headaches?  Exactly.  So I took him to the doctor.  Diagnosis: allergies.  I didn't disagree with our doctor (we already know B has allergies), I informed him quite emphatically that I was not one to bring my kids to the doctor for every. little. thing.  THANKFULLY, (loving our pediatrician), he responded very appropriately:  "In circumstances like this, I like to think what I would want the doctor to do for my kid."  THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!  So, he wrote out a prescription for a blood panel to rule out mono, hypothyroidism, and anemia.  He said if B isn't doing better in a week on the allergy meds, to take him in to get his blood tested.

Why am I telling you this story?  Because I believe that Mothers are blessed with the ability to "know" if something isn't right with their child.  We have a connection that is beyond the physical that keeps us in tune with the needs that they cannot always express.  And thank goodness for that!  I am grateful, also, for a pediatrician that realizes that he sees my kid every once and awhile, while I see them 24/7.

I will probably get the blood test done, just for peace of mind...for the "what ifs". I'm not hoping for positive results, but it won't hurt to rule them out, right?   In the meantime, I'll be having fun with my adorably-hilarious-yet-a-bit-overtired little boy, and his wonderful little sister.

Do you have any instances where your Mother's Instinct has helped you?

A Lesson in Kindness

I was on a walk with my girls yesterday when I noticed that my two year old daughter had something on her shoe. She was dragging her shoe along the sidewalk to try and scrape it off, smearing whatever it was behind her. I also noticed several snails (the big ones that look like Spongebob's pet Gary) out on the sidewalk. I squatted down to point out the snail to my daughter and ask her to say hello to it. Then the most disturbing thing happened.

My little girl raised her foot, smashed that little snail, and ground it into the concrete.

I was shocked. I was horrified. I was speechless for a minute. I knew that I had to do something, but I didn't know what. I couldn't bring the snail back to life, its shell was shattered and its slimy body was plastered across the sidewalk.

Finally, I decided that the only thing I could do was express to my daughter the importance of showing respect and kindness to animals. I told her that God created all the animals, even the snails and that he expects us to be kind to them and take care of them. I explained that it is our job to keep them safe, and not to step on them. It hurts them when we step on them.

I am not sure if my message got through to my daughter, but she did apologize to the snail before we continued on our way. Hopefully the next time we meet a snail, it will be greeted with a friendly hello, and left to meander on its way.