Slow down everyone, you're moving too fast...

Dear TIH,
I don't even try to hide the fact that I was not really a baby person before I became a mother.  Whenever I would hold a friend's baby before becoming a mother myself, it was as though the baby could sense I was uncomfortable and he or she would promptly scream their heads off.  Even in the first weeks of your life, every time I held your tiny little body close to mine, I was so scared that I was "doing it wrong," that I would "break" you somehow, that you also could sense I was really not any good at this.

On one such occasion, feeling the anxiety which was all too familiar in those days, I had finally gotten you to go to sleep in the middle of the day.  I looked down at the smallness of you and was dumbfounded how such a tiny little thing could be so overwhelming for me.  I felt a tear roll down my cheek and before I knew it, I was silently crying as I held you.  I felt like SUCH a failure.  And I whispered to you, "I'm sorry about all this.  I can't wait until you get bigger."

And, you did get bigger.
You grew and grew and grew.

You learned.  You walked and talked and did all of the things I was longing for when you were that tiny baby in my arms.

Photo credit: Rosser Photography

It all happened SO fast.
And today - you are four.

I love that you're growing.  Watching you grow is one of the great privileges of my life.  And, I love that we've gotten to grow together.  I got to grow from a sort of selfish woman who didn't really have any idea what it was like to take care of anyone else into someone else entirely.

Your mom.

Photo credit: Rosser Photography

So, thanks buddy.  Thanks for letting me watch you grow.  Thanks for teaching me in your little way to be the woman that I am today.

I know you're excited by how big you're getting and how much you're learning.  You tell us every day about the new "big boy" things you can do.  And truthfully, it breaks my heart a little bit.

Buddy, I have to tell you, it's not so scary for me that you're little anymore.  It's actually much scarier how fast the time is going.  So...if it isn't too much to ask - slow it down just a bit.

Because as it turns out, I can wait for you to be bigger.

Love,
Mommy

From this year's photo shoot with Rosser Photography.
Stephanie, I am forever indebted to you for these priceless and beautiful memories.

This is ourselves under pressure...

I often find myself crumbling under the weight of what it means to be a parent.  There is a lot of pressure in the world to be a good parent.  It starts long before you see those two little lines on a stick.

I think, it happens the first time you see or hear about a kid doing something and think - I'll never let my kids do that.  Or, the first time you see or hear about a parent doing something and think - That'll never be me.

For me, it's when I think of the sheer volume of things I'm expected to teach my son in the two-ish decades he will live under my roof.  Shapes, colors, words, concepts.  Manners, gratitude, respect, the difference between right and wrong.  Faith, hope, love.

It's overwhelming.  And the own pressure I put on myself, a perfectionist at heart, is enough for me to cry sometimes.

And then, there's this unachievable perfection that I feel we're sometimes held up to.
And mostly?  By other moms.

Stay home with your kids, don't let someone else raise them.
Send your kids to the best preschool so they are speaking 3 languages and doing long division by kindergarten.
Feed them only organic, gluten-free, local food.
Don't ever, under any circumstances, let them watch television.
Breastfeed them until they're five and do it on the cover of a magazine.
And, most recently, this:

Sigh.
Something else unattainable that we are now expected to do.
Mrs. Kang is gorgeous.  (Duh.)  She has three gorgeous kids.  She's the founder of a non-profit.  From what I gather via Facebook and the media storm that has followed her, she's a pretty impressive woman.
And yet, she's reduced herself to just this.
Another mom judging the rest of us for being too lazy and not good enough.

Something HAS to give.

If NMOTB stands for anything as a blog, it's just that we start accepting each other.  Because the anxiety of being a parent is hard enough as it is.  In fact, I've found it actually debilitating at times.  I don't know where to begin when I describe how earth shattering it can be to imagine you are in charge of another human's life and well being.  So, when I see stuff like that - I honestly get HULKRAGE-y about it and want to break my computer.

Why can't we just support each other?  Why do we need an "excuse" for anything we do as parents.  Neither of my parents had washboard abs - and yet, I still turned out okay.

In fact, I successfully managed to lose 50 lbs. this year and somehow, it didn't really change who I was as a parent at all.  (And my abs still don't look like that.)

And moreover, if I have any excuse for not looking like that, it's because sometimes (more times than not lately, actually) I skip my afternoon run so that I can start dinner and sit down to eat it with my family.  And because it just wouldn't look natural on me.

And because sometimes I look down at the stretch marks on my belly and the loose skin that I lovingly refer to as "a butt in the front" and it reminds me of the life I grew in there.  Of all of the little nudges and kicks I felt for all those months.

And that's when the anxiety isn't so bad.  Because it doesn't matter that I don't look like a swimsuit model.  Because I look like a mom.

photo credit: Rosser Photography

And I like that look better anyway.

Make this place your home...

It's hard for me to believe, but a year ago at this time, we were throwing the final items into boxes.  (Boxes that I would soon discover were so unorganized that it took us almost this full year to unpack and reorganize.)  It wasn't the most romantic wedding anniversary, but the whole process was symbolic  of the vows and promises I had made on that day four years before.

Moving day was an emotionally confusing day.  Calling it bittersweet just doesn't do it justice.  There was so much sadness.  But, there were also moments of excitement about the long journey that was spread out in front of us.  I remember someone saying to me when they heard we were moving, "It's going to be sad, but there is a certain excitement to going somewhere entirely new and just starting over."

Whoever that was - thank you.  You were right.

I miss my home.  Yes.  There is a hole in my heart where St. Louis used to be and I catch myself aching for some of our traditions we celebrated yearly while still living there.

Cardinals in Postseason has kind of become a yearly thing. Just sayin'.

But, for every second that I miss St. Louis - there is a moment of pure, unencumbered joy and gratitude for the life we are living here and the people that we share it with.  There are things that have taken some getting used to (everything literally shuts down during football games, it's like a ghost town.)  Some things (traffic patterns, for example) I may never enjoy.  But, I truly just LOVE it here.  (So much so that sometimes I feel like I'm cheating on my city a bit.)

I remember on the day we left that I watched The Arch become a tiny little dot in my rearview mirror my eyes blurred with tears and sad songs blaring on my CD player. And yet, every time I started to get scary sad and ugly cry, I would have a message of encouragement from someone back at home.  Messages that promised me it would be okay.  Messages that told me that they missed me already. Messages that allowed me to hope that not only was it going to be good - that it might just be even better.

To all of you who contacted me on one of the most defining days of my entire life - thank you.  And?  You were right.  It is okay.

The past two years that we have been in the process of relocating ourselves here has taught me so much about our strength as a couple; as parents; as people, in general.  And now that we get to live here in the beautiful now - I'm just so grateful and blessed about where this journey has taken us thus far.

So, happy first anniversary, Chicago - I think I'll keep you.
And, happy fifth anniversary to my husband - you can stay too.

Everybody hurts sometimes...

It's quite amazing who the blogosphere can introduce you to.  I met a woman who happened to live in the same city, frequented the same restaurants, was a new mom herself, and who worked only miles from me.  We never actually met in person before I moved, but I stalk her read her blogs regularly.  She keeps parenting real and often says many of the things I'm thinking, but have never said out loud.  A healthy dose of that realness comes from the amazing love she has for both of her adorable kiddos.  I have never forgotten the first time I read her post about "Having a Sad Moment" and thinking, "This woman is a Guru."

I tried this method out with The Incredible Hulk only a few months ago while my husband was traveling.  I cooked dinner (and by cooked I mean, I actually turned on an oven instead of my usual microwaved chicken nuggets) and when I set it on the table, TIH had a meltdown of epic proportions.  He wanted to eat anything besides my carefully prepared dinner.  We were having breaded pork chops and he wanted a hot dog, pizza, cereal, chicken nuggets (aren't breaded pork chops just glorified chicken nuggets?)  At my wits end, I took him away from the table, set him on the couch with a small cup of milk and a pillow, and said "Do you need to have a sad moment?"  With tears rolling down his face, he sat on the couch, drank his milk, and stroked his hair (touching his own hair is his ultimate self-soother).  Within 5 minutes he was visibly calmer, he set down his milk, and I tentatively asked, "Do you want to eat some bites of your dinner?"  He nodded.  I gave him some ketchup (a compromise) to dip his pork chop in and he ate every. single. bite.  Sad moments?  ARE A DAMN MIRACLE.

Julie is allowing me to share this method on the blog today.  Make sure you add her blog to your list of daily reads.  You will come away laughing so hard you pee and also really appreciating the all of the little things that motherhood has to offer.

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Whether you are in the trenches of the terrible twos or have a child who always runs with high emotions, you are probably looking for a way to both help them through the tantrums and keep from losing your ever-loving shit every time they have a meltdown. In our house, that way is the "Sad Moment".

The Sad Moment is a way to help your toddler deal with their emotions when there is nothing really "wrong". For example, when they want to play with a toy their friend is playing with and get hysterical when you tell them "no". Or when they ask for a cookie before dinner and you tell them they need to wait.

After I explain to The Quiet Contemplator the right thing to do in the situation or why she can't have what she wants, I ask her is she wants to have a Sad Moment. She almost always says yes. I then give her her turtle pillow pet (or any soft stuffed thing you want) and she buries her head in it and cries until she feels better. Usually this lasts less than a minute. 

A Sad Moment with Turtle is kind of just a place for her to put her emotions when she doesn't know what to do with them. It almost always makes her feel better. I am amazed every time she says "yes" when I ask her if she needs a Sad Moment. It is like she knows that she just needs a release. Afterward, she totally rebounds and it is like nothing happened.

I guess this is kind of like a time out, only it helps your kid get rid of all the pent-up emotion while also giving them time to think. I hope this helps some of you. I know it has helped the crap out of us.

Two is better than one...

I can feel the ache in my shoulders as I schluff out of bed hearing the becoming-more-familiar-by-the-day, "Nononono!"  Who knew that a magical milestone of turning two would be the beginning of having nightmares.  I always wonder what happens in those scary dreams of yours and I know, someday, sooner than we think, you'll be able to tell me.

I wonder if tonight will be one of those nights where I only have to rub your back and pile your blankets back on and you'll be back out.  Or, if I'll have to rock you endlessly while, even in the room lit dimly by a full moon, I can see your eyes shining back at me as if to say, "No way in hell I'm going back to sleep, mom.  Go ahead and plan your extra shot at Starbucks now.  It's gonna be a long day."

I wait to see if you're going to ask me, as you sometimes do in the middle of the night, where your dad is.  You do.

"Da?" (Hopeful.)
"He's still in Chicago, buddy."
"Da." (Falling off at the end, your statement a voiced disappointment.)
"I know."

You like us to be together.  You show me when you point to the open front seat in the van and say, "DA." to let me know where you want him to be.

You show me when I have to literally carry you around the house at night to prove to you I'm not hiding him anywhere. 

You show me when the three of us are standing too far apart, so you stretch your little hands and arms with all of your strength to pull us closer together.

You show me when you demand that I join you and your dad in the basement for some popsicles and The Golf Channel even though I have about a million things to accomplish in the short time when I have the luxury of dual parenting again.

I know you want us to be together, buddy.  Mommy is doing absolutely everything she can to make it happen.  And believe it or not - Daddy should probably be in Chicago more often than he is.  The thought of that makes me insanely upset and makes me forever in awe of military moms, single moms, and all of the other parents who consistently have to do it alone.  It really is better when the two of us are together.

And, we're going to be together again soon, buddy.  Thanks for being so patient with us.
Only a matter of days and this chapter of our life will finally, finally be over.

I wish I could go back to college...

Generally, when I am offered the opportunity to guest post it is because I have begged for the opportunity to do so as you will see here and here.

This time is no exception.

I am honored to be blogging over at Literal Mom today.  When I was given the opportunity to guest while Missy took a break for NaNoWriMo, I jumped at the chance.  I absolutely adore her tag line - "Thinking parents make better parents" and have found it to be astoundingly true especially as I became the mother of a toddler.

As a new mom, I am always looking for bits of worthwhile advice and Literal Mom is a great place to find it.

I'd be hard-pressed to explain what being a Literal Mom is - I'll leave that up to Missy.
In fact, after only 16 months of motherhood, I'd be hard-pressed to give you any advice as good as hers.
However, I've had just shy of a decade of experience in behavioral theory, and most of that stuff is good enough to apply to your kids.  I think.  I'll let you decide.

Enjoy.


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If you found your way here after visiting Literal Mom today, thank you so much for stopping by!  My most popular posts can be found to your right.  I've been blogging for just shy of one year, but I hope you'll like what you find and decide to stick around for awhile.  And leave comments!  I love comments!

All that we said was no...

At the beginning, I thought nothing could possibly be harder than taking care of the little, helpless bundle I took home from the hospital.  He couldn't move independently, he needed changing almost hourly, and being the new mother I was, there was no way for me to decode the various ranges of his crying.

Then, that little, helpless bundle became mobile.  And oh.my.gosh. is it EXHAUSTING.
This kid never. stops. moving. 

In a way, his mobility makes me proud - he's kind of ahead of the curve on a lot of those milestones.
But mostly - it makes me terrified.  And exhausted.
Our home, which is not at all baby proof'd, has suddenly become a tunnel of terror as I realize that every object inside of it can and will do bodily harm to my baby.

Also, he does not seem to understand why the cat ball covered in nasty litter is not an appropriate toy.
Or, that attempting to crawl down the basement stairs is not a safe game.
Or, why I'd prefer it if he didn't take a handful of Cat Chow out of the bowl.  (I blame Gerber Puffs.  They are shaped the EXACT same way.)

Who can tell the difference?  The cat food is probably more nutritious anyway.

The worst is electrical cords.  My husband and I both use laptops and it's like the minute we put them on the chargers, his little hawk eyes spot them and he's quickly making a beeline to the outlet.  He loves to yank on them, shake them, put them in his mouth.  It is TERRIFYING.

My husband continually redirected him away from one of the offending cords the other day, until he finally just said, firmly and loudly (but not too loudly), "NO." 
Oh.  My.  Gosh.

You would have thought he hit the baby.  The Incredible Hulk's hulk-like demeanor absolutely crumbled before our eyes and he burst into tears.  I had to scoop him up and rock him and "shhhh" him.

But, I kind of had a mommy "Wise Mind" moment. (Those are few and far between...trust me.)  As I rocked him and "shhhh'd," I said "I know you don't like it when mommy and daddy say no, but we do it because we love you and we don't want you to get hurt.  And we do love you, so much." 

Later on, my husband and I kind of "debriefed" the situation, if you will.  He said he didn't want to always be "the mean guy who yells" or for me to be "the nice one who protects you from the mean guy who yells."  I don't want it to be that way either.  And neither of us want to pull that "JUST YOU WAIT UNTIL YOUR [mother/father] GETS HOME."  No one wants to be the monster.

In a perfect world, I'd be able to anticipate every dangerous or disciplinary situation and be able to be smart and pro-active and fix it so out child(ren) could never possibly be hurt.  But, it isn't a perfect world.  And setting them up for thinking "mommy/daddy will fix everything before I have to worry about it" is only going to make them fail later on in life.  Our kids have to have some sort of measuring stick for "right and wrong" and while I'm not always sure I'm the best person for that job - that's pretty much the definition of parenting.

My husband decided that even though we're each going to have to be "the bad guy" multiple times throughout our child(ren)'s life (and sometimes will both have to be "the bad guy" together) that we still want to also be "the nice one who protects" at the same time.  What we discussed was to similarly "scoop our kids up" after a punishment they don't particularly care for, and explain to them that although we're firm in our actions, that we still love them and understand that they may not like our decision/discipline/saying no, etc.

So far, it's been going okay.  Like how TIH now has his first little Incredible Hulk tooth and he has decided to, ahem...try it out...on mommy.  The first time I yelped so loud and said "NO BITING" so of course, his little face crinkled into sobs and I could do nothing but hug him close to me and say "I know I scared you.  I don't want you to bite me and I still love you."  The good news?  He hasn't tried it again.  And that little Incredible Hulk tooth is so flipping cute.

Every once in a while, I catch glimpses of the parents my husband and I are becoming and I am just so proud of us.  We're starting to get it right.

Then we celebrate by watching The Hangover for the 800th time on cable, laugh at the inappropriate parts, chase the baby away from the cat bowl, and allow all parental maturity to fly out the window.