The Ironies of the Holidays

It’s true that Christmas is a magical holiday...but it’s also a stressful one. In an effort to balance the stress imposed by the holidays with providing the “magic” for the kids’ sake, I’m keeping a perspective on the ironies that create this state of holiday craziness.

** I spend 20 minutes circling for a parking space, trying to get in to the store. When I try to leave, I’m stuck in my parking space for another 10, blocked by a car who is stalking someone walking down the aisle. They won’t pull forward for fear that they will miss a parking opportunity and can’t back up because the person behind them has already “claimed” my spot with their signal.

** Forget gift wrapping- what about gift UNwrapping? I’m not interested in paying for gift wrapping when I buy something online, but I WOULD consider paying extra to ship the item in a plain box so that when UPS rings the doorbell and the kids rush the front door to see who it is, they are not witnessing their gifts being delivered.

** With winter weather in southern California (or lack thereof), our kids are forced to skate on synthetic (plastic) ice. To me, this epitomizes so much of what’s wrong with how we celebrate the holidays.

** Every time we make it a point to load up the kids for a fun family tour of Christmas lights, the minute we are stuck in a long line of cars, SOMEone is sure to announce they have to go to the bathroom and it CAN’T wait. Why is it that so many of our well-intentioned family outings become centered around finding bathrooms...?

** We teach our kids that this is the spirit of generosity...and then have them fill out a Christmas list with all the things they want. Next year my kids are making a Christmas list of things they plan to GIVE instead of what they want to RECEIVE.

** Christmas songs are less for entertainment and more for the purpose of reminding us of what we are celebrating and why. We need to sing more.

** With two weeks off of school, the phrase “winter break” takes on a different meaning for kids and parents.

** We go to great lengths to reinforce the importance of being “good” to our children (including honesty, right?)...and reward them with gifts left by a fictional character that we’ve propagated as being real.

** We teach our kids about stranger danger, encourage them not to talk to strangers and scare the daylights out of them about getting within reach of them...and yet this one time of year we force our kids to sit on a perfect stranger’s lap, have a conversation and smile for a picture. It’s no wonder they are so freaked out!

** We wish everyone a “healthy” and “prosperous” new year, and yet most of us have been binging on holiday treats and cookies and over-spending money we don’t have on gifts. Maybe we should wish these things to the people we care about BEFORE the holidays.

So, I wish all of you a patient, generous, fun, well-behaved, portion-controlled, debt-lowering, genuine and meaningful Christmas with the people you know and love.

Dressing Out

Yes, that is my daughter. And, yes, I see that she’s wearing pajamas, under boy clothes with a cape, goggles and a fire hat. She’s, shall we say, an interesting dresser. Please do not shake your head in disagreement, resist the urge to explain to her that she isn’t wearing clothes properly or try to encourage her to dress “normally”. I know you have good intentions, but she’s three. She is fearlessly confident in her choice of outfits and is fiercely independent and proud. She’s got the innocence and sensitivity of a sweet child, and please respect that.

To be fair, many of the reactions we get come in the form of warm smiles from nostalgic moms of older kids who love to share stories about their child’s memorable quirks. And I do understand that my daughter’s unique sense of style could easily be misinterpreted as my lack of parenting. But, I assure you, I am doing her a favor.

I’ll admit that, after three boys, I had hopes of cute dresses and curly pig tails. But even before she could walk, she was especially motivated to dress herself. And once she was able to express herself through her attire, I realized that that she not only enjoys it, but it continues to play a crucial role in her development. (Even though I easily end up doing an extra load of laundry each day to accommodate her ever-changing ideas.)

As a former interesting dresser and teenage girl myself, I know that there will be plenty of time for her to feel the unfortunate effects of peer pressure to conform, and that she will eventually come to feel more comfortable in what is appropriate and acceptable. Our role as mothers is to our children is to help shape their confidence and give them the tools they need to be successful human beings. Shaming her about her wardrobe choices at the tender age of three just doesn’t seem to accomplish that. Is it really necessary to cause additional stress because she’d rather dress as a superhero of sorts than a princess? Besides, with four kids and being in constant demand, I couldn’t possibly fight every outfit battle, even if I wanted to.

So, to anyone who feels justified in judging my daughter for her unique sense of style (or me for letting her go out in public that way), I kindly request that you BACK OFF. She is a confident, loving and happy child, and that’s all the really matters.

Do you have an interesting dresser? Give her or him a hug for me.

My Daily Tally

Photo: healingdream

Ever wonder what it’s like having four children? Here’s an account of my daily life summarized in numbers.

ONE+ gallon/s of milk consumed each day
TWO loads of dishes
THREE loads of laundry
FOUR* the multiple of time by which every task takes (5 minute task x 4 to account for the constant interruption of life)
FIVE o’clock am is the time I wake up every day
SIX cups of coffee (according to the coffee pot; according to my giant cup, it’s only two :)
SEVEN thirty bedtime (a quiet house by 8pm)
EIGHT slices of bread eaten in a day (or more)
NINE sibling spats I have to referee
TEN times I clean or wipe the toilet down (and surrounding areas) from 3 distracted boys...

And yet, most days I wouldn't change a thing. And for those days when I forget what a gift motherhood is, I remind myself of the story I read about a mom of young kids who was struck with cancer and was heartbroken because she was incapable of tending the her children and doing things like changing diapers and cleaning toilets. It's not the most glamorous job in the world, but doing these things for the people we love makes us feel whole as mothers.  Wouldn't you agree?

The Talk

If you have a second, third or fourth grader, then you know what “talk” I’m referring to. Yes, that one. The one about the birds and the bees... It’s long overdue- not for my nine year old (he’s still pretty oblivious), but for my seven year old. He’s always been very precocious, so it wasn’t a huge surprise when his teacher told me that he was giving his second grade classmates drawing lessons on adult anatomy. It doesn’t help that he also has a problem with using good judgement about what’s appropriate and what’s not (and he’s also a really good artist- these are not his sketches...his had more detail, if you know what I mean).

Photo sketch by MerryPaws

But that’s not why it’s finally time. It was inevitable that despite bookmarking his parent-approved websites, he’d figured out how to google things on the computer. And by “things” I mean “naked girls”. Ugh. Cringe. Sigh. Sit down.

I think every parent dreads this day. I have even had a good “teaching” book tucked away for the right moment, but I was really hoping it wouldn’t come anytime soon. He’s seven! What happened to my little puppy who loved to cuddle and be silly? Now he sports an attitude and has the humor (and taste) of a stand up comedian. In fact, my husband is convinced that he may just become a comedian someday and all of THESE moments will be fodder for his comedy routines. Oh yes, I’m expecting it ALL to come back from this one some day.

In the meantime, however, I have to have “the talk”. And knowing his ability to remember (too) much, his curiosity and drawing skills, this should be interesting. I don’t think it’s going to help with deterring the art lessons with friends on anatomy, but I guess I’d rather it be my kid who’s informed and telling others rather than him hearing misinformation from others and thinking they’re right. As far as “talks” go, this is just the beginning...

Where is a parenting manual when I need one?

Blogging About Blogging

I can’t be the only one...my husband thinks I’m mildly obsessed with blogging, but he forgets that part of my paid job is to blog. And just because I’m on the computer doesn’t mean I’m blogging...(although he doesn’t need to know that I’d do it more if I could). I do, however, find a much needed outlet in writing and truly part of my motivation is to complete my constantly interrupted thoughts throughout the day.  I'm convinced this is why there are so many mom bloggers- have you ever tried to have a conversation on the phone with 2-4 kids yelling for you (and at each other) and climbing all over you? And I find that taking the time to reflect on life and motherhood really does help put it into perspective and gives it more meaning. More meaning leads to feeling more fulfilled and that leads to greater contentment with it all. What can I say, blogging is my happy place.

Never the less, he’s given himself the title of “blog widower”. He jokes that he’s going to start a blog for husbands who have lost their wives to blogging. Seriously, I think he’s on to something. What do you think?

Finding the Christmas Spirit

I knew I was taking a risk by responding, but it’s usually the case that doing something is harder than doing nothing, even when it’s the right thing. And my kids were watching.

We were knee deep in Christmas lights and decorations...trying to prep the outside decorations while simultaneously rotating the toys inside the house to the garage to make room for the tree. As you might suspect, this is NOT an easy task with two three year olds clinging and crying about the temporary departure of every toy, despite our best efforts to “capture the moment” with Christmas music blaring the background. (By the way, the trick is to distract them with a “new” toy to rotate in- they will play happily for at least 20 minutes- but have those ready to go before removing the “old” ones). The older boys and the neighbors were playing out front when my second oldest (and animal lover) yelled to me that a stray dog had just wandered into our yard. I’ll be honest, my first thoughts were...I’m sure the dog can find its way home. If I check for a collar and there isn’t one, then I’ve taken on the responsibility of finding its owner. Maybe I can just assure my son that the dog will be fine and we can pretend this never happened.

After all, we lost our beloved dog earlier this year and it was quite traumatic for the family, but especially this child. And he’s been begging for another dog ever since. I knew that was HIS first thought.

Photo: bk images

Sure enough, the dog had a collar...but no tag. Now I couldn’t let her wander off because I knew she belonged to someone who loved her enough to give her a collar. And she was a very sweet black lab mix. So, leaving my patient and understanding husband to man the twins and mess of toys, five kids (including the neighbors, minus the dog-lover) and Christmas decorations, my son and I set off, going house to house in search of the dog’s owner. We made it clear to the end of our street and back, and no one recognized her. And while most people were apologetic, none offered to help find her owner.  I knew I couldn’t keep her even for a few days to hang signs with 4 small kids at our house, despite my son’s pleading. And she had some visible tumors, so calling the Humane Society would not be ideal. Even trying to get her to a vet’s office to see if she had a microchip (if I could find one open on a Sunday) would be problematic with the kids.

Finally, I approached the last house within proximity and held out hope that this would be her home. I was relieved when the kid the lives there opened the door, but then he said she wasn’t his black lab and my heart sank. Upon taking a closer look, he said he did know who she belonged to and offered to take her home. He has no idea how grateful I was to hear those words!

Interestingly enough, this house was only two doors down from us, yet it was the last house I tried. In part because we had issues with this (and another neighbor) kid a few years back who were several years older than our boys and who had been cussing and being mischievous in front of our kids (4 and 5 at the time). My husband had to “talk to” the neighbor boys about being appropriate in front of younger kids. And there just didn’t seem to be a lot of parental supervision, so we encouraged out kids to steer clear of him. Yet, this very kid (a few years later) is offering to help me tremendously without giving it a second thought. He was kind and courteous and a good neighbor.

So, this experience has reminded me this Christmas to love my neighbor (and, as my husband put it, “not judge them by their skinny jeans” and skate boards), to remove myself from the chaos and stress that is “the season” and focus on helping others and doing the right thing. So many people (and a dog) in the this situation were helped, and at the end of the day, isn’t that what’s it all about?

And, no our decorations aren't hung, but Christmas has begun at our house.

Some Call it Bribery...I Call it REWARD

Or incentive. Or positive reinforcement. Regardless of the label, it’s usually a win-win. For the record, I define bribery as using something of value to coax someone into doing something they SHOULDN’T do. With toddlers and kids, it’s all about teaching them that when they make good decisions (which is usually what you want them to do), good things happen.

My son is one who will do just about anything for toys, and by extension, money. He understands he has to work for it, but he’s not going to work harder than he has to. And he’s honed such outstanding negotiating skills that he knows exactly how to get what he wants. But, is that such a bad thing if I also get what I want? Besides, I’m convinced this kid is going to make millions some day- and then he’ll thank me for it.

After overruling his request to play his guitar on the busy street corner to earn money (he’s seven...and he doesn’t know how to play guitar), he is now my big helper around the house. He regularly vacuums, dusts, takes out trash- all of these things without being asked- and actually REQUESTS to do the dishes (...with hearts and stars).

All of these chores pay about $.25 around here, and by the end of the week he usually has $3-5 earned over and above the $3 allowance he gets for being self-sufficient (getting ready for school, picking up his things, brushing teeth, etc). And he knows how to shop on line- which is part of HIS motivation. He finds something he wants to buy, figures out the cost plus tax and shipping (thereby building his math skills) and goes to work around the house. Thankfully he doesn’t have a credit card. Yet. Something tells me that’s not too far off into the future.

In the mean time, however, I will continue to REWARD his hard work and enjoy not having to do some of the household chores myself. I used to worry that we were attaching too much extrinsic value to his work, but the fact is, he does feel the intrinsic value of giving himself a goal and working towards it. So we let him continue to build up his credit and his self esteem. I do wish he was saving more, but then he wouldn’t be nearly as motivated to earn the money. I guess that’s another lesson for another time (usually when he finds something he wants after he’s already spent his money). No, I don’t consider this bribery...this is life!

Today I'm Giving Thanks For...

Forgiveness. Well, a lot of things, really, but forgiveness is near the top of my list.

This has always been a hard concept for me to embrace. We all want to be forgiven for our bad decisions (intentional and otherwise), but forgiving someone else is a whole other story. This has been a lifelong lesson for me. And having kids had taught me so much about why forgiveness is so important.

Life with kids is filled with ups and downs and daily decisions, good and bad. It is my job as a parent to help them learn from those decisions. It is also my job as mom to love them unconditionally and teach them to not only forgive others (as in sibling fighting) but forgive themselves for their own bad decisions, and learn from them. After all, we are all human and we all make bad decisions from time to time. What’s important is that we try to make things right, and hopefully forgiveness is a natural consequence of that.

This perspective on life and motherhood was challenged just a few days ago, when I failed to meet the expectations of not one but two clients, and I struggled with the idea that I might not be forgiven. I knew I had not intended to do anything wrong and did what I could to fix things...the rest was out of my hands. I found myself asking, “What would I tell my kids?”. It occurred to me that I needed to forgive myself and accept whatever consequences might occur with the idea that I did what I could to right things, while also knowing that there are times in life when that’s just not enough. Still, I went to bed with this weighing heavily on my mind.

When I awoke the next morning, I was pleasantly surprised that my genuine apology had been accepted and that things had been “fixed”. And it made me realize what an important lesson this is to learn early so that my kids can appreciate the importance of taking responsibility for things and doing what’s necessary to rectify the situation, but especially embracing the idea of forgiving themselves and others. Without forgiveness, I’m not sure it’s possible to have peace of heart and mind. And who benefits from that? No one I can’t think of...

May your Thanksgiving be full of forgiveness, thanks and peace.

Taking Down the Gates

The gates aren’t just open, they’re removed. If there’s one thing having twins has taught me, it’s that things go much more smoothly when I can find peace with moving into the next stage of motherhood and not fight the changes all the way. But change can be unnerving.

We took the baby gates down recently, so our three year old twins now have free reign of the entire house at their own leisure. The truth is, they’ve access for a while, since the gates were often left open by the older siblings, and then eventually ignored all together. Never the less, they were my security. It was a tangible boundary that was indicative of the toddler stage we were in, and its absence is a tell tale sign that life has grown and evolved. Whether I want it to or not.

Parenting is a constant exercise in letting go of some things while simultaneously holding tight to others. After I had the twins, I was completely satisfied (and mostly overwhelmed) with the idea that our family of six was just the right size. I’ve known that every stage we’ve gone through, from crawling to talking, has been the beginning- and the end- of a stage of motherhood I probably won’t be experiencing again. And I’m okay with that. But there’s something about removing the baby gates that seems so final, so free and so...insecure. Those gates kept them out of harm’s way, provided stability when pulling up to stand, and gave them balance when learning to walk. But my babies are no longer infants, babies or toddlers. They are now preschoolers and their world is growing with them. As much as I want to close that gate and keep all the innocence, sweetness and security locked safely behind it, that’s just not reality. The reality is that they need the space, they need the exposure and they need to learn new boundaries...often by consequences. I can always comfort them, but I can’t always protect them.

And so, I’m letting go of the baby gates and holding tightly to the hope that my babies won’t stray too far and will always want to come back to their mommy.

Funny how when our kids grow, we do too.

My latest article: Because Sometimes Words Speak Louder Than Actions

This one is about the power of an Apology Letter.  Check it out and send it along if you like it!

 http://familyfocusblog.com/because-sometimes-words-speak-louder-than-actions/

Thanks for all the support and positive feedback!

My Published Article!

Thanks to all of you for the support and encouragement.  I have fallen in love with writing and it's so satisfying to know that my words and thoughts touch others.  I'm very excited to also be building credibility as a writer...check out my guest contribution posted on 5 Minutes for Mom:

Back Away From the Sign Up Sheet: Knowing When to Volunteer and When Not To


And, pretty please, if you like my blog and/or writing, share them, follow them and comment!

Picking Up the Pieces...the Puzzle Pieces, That Is

I was busy making dinner in the kitchen when out of no where, and for no apparent reason, my three year old daughter moseyed into the kitchen, took one look at the puzzle that was left undone at the table and proceeded to swipe, one by one, each and every piece onto the floor. Knowing that I would have to be the one to crawl around and retrieve puzzle pieces from beneath chairs and under the stove, I promptly requested, “Pick those up, please.” I asked patiently and calmly several more times until I was eventually met with a defiant, “No!”. 

Suddenly, I had flashbacks to preschool two weeks prior when, at pick up, the teacher informed me that my daughter would have to put her blocks away before she could be dismissed.

What can I say? Life with a strong-will three year old has its challenging moments. Unlucky for her, she is my fourth...which means I’m wise to the ways of the willful. And being a tad (okay, really) stubborn myself, I can appreciate her frustration. Having said that, my will to enforce her picking up after herself was no match for her tantrum.

So she spent the most of the rest of the night in time out for refusing to pick up the puzzle pieces. I have to say, when this child goes to time out (which isn’t all that often), she goes for the long haul. We’ve had entire park outings where she watched from her car seat. But I’ve learned to appreciate that about her- she has a mind of her own. I didn’t get angry or frustrated; I just gave her space and gentle reminders about why it was important to pick up after herself. I knew I couldn’t win this battle unless SHE decided she wanted to pick up the pieces (a parenting pearl for anyone just beginning the journey of motherhood). So, I just provided the motivation (bath time anyone?). The puzzle pieces were picked up in record time.

Ironic how being a mom has made me both more patient and more stubborn at the same time.

Humbled Running

Motherhood can be a very humbling experience. But today it was no match for the 13.1 miles I ran with thousands of others.

I was humbled by the dedication of one runner to a loved one lost. I am reminded that life is precious. I was humbled by the woman running with the prosthetic leg. I am reminded that having two healthy legs is a gift. I was humbled by the guy that passed me in the stroller. I am reminded that each of us is doing this for different reasons, and that some have a heavier burden to carry. I was humbled by several disabled kids making their way through the crowd on hand cycles. I am reminded that perseverance is a choice. I was humbled by the front runners making their way back while I was on my way out. I am reminded that this is not a race against each other, but a race against ourselves. I was humbled by those (including me) who had to stop and walk. I am reminded that we all have our own set of challenges in running, and in life. I was humbled by the rolling waves lapping upon the miles of sand. I am reminded that I am small in this great big world, both above water and below. I was humbled by watching the gentleman (a live kidney and liver donor) who encouraged me to the finish last year cross the finish line this year. I am reminded that generosity is contagious. I was humbled by the person who thanked me for encouraging him to the finish line this year. I am reminded that paying it forward always makes a difference.

I ran this race, not for a particular time (my previous injury already humbled me in that respect), but for the experience. And my shadow and I managed to humbly climb over that 10 mile wall.

The race was a success in my mind. Right up until the couple hours later when I puked. (Sorry, there just isn’t a lovely way to say that.) But, once again, I was humbled by the compassion of my husband and children. I am reminded of how blessed and lucky I am. After a week of taking care of sick kids, not getting much rest and pushing myself a little too far, I am reminded of my limitations. And I am humbled by and grateful for all of it.

Polka Dot Clouds

Motherhood is like the sky. It’s unfathomably vast and full of uncertainty. There are moments of turbulence, moments of peace, moments of darkness and moments of beauty. And it’s always changing.

I don’t spend much time cloud-watching unless something brilliant catches my eye. That was the case yesterday. It was mid-morning and the sky was the oddest polka dotted pattern I have memory of seeing. Even my kids were in awe.

Unfortunately, the picture doesn't quite capture what my eye did.

I have no idea what set of conditions and circumstances have to come together to create such wonder, but the outcome was mesmerizing. We watched it for a while, noticing how each puffy little cloud seem to be its own silver button, sticking collectively together in the sky. And, not unlike how kids grow and evolve right before our eyes, it was only a couple hours before the clouds had merged and swirled together to take on a completely different form and the polka dot sky was forever in the past, never to be duplicated exactly the same again.

And so are the moments of motherhood; each with their own set of conditions and circumstances, many of which are out of our control. But when we learn to appreciate the sky for its beauty in that moment, we are reminded to also cherish those fleeting moments of motherhood with our children that, too, will eventually blow away. And what better way to make me stop, look, and take it in with a smile than polka dot clouds.

What's That Smell?

It took me a few days to figure this one out. The first time I smelled it was in the car. I just figured one of the kids passed gas (a common occurrence, unfortunately). Then I smelled it in the bathroom. Same assumption, or something similar. THEN I did the laundry.

Yes, my almost nine year old has officially crossed over from my little boy...to a stinky, smelly kid. The culprit was his socks. I’m surprised they didn’t walk over to the laundry and throw themselves in, just to be put our of their misery. No, they insist on permeating our small house crammed full of people, while hiding in unsuspecting places. I can have just done my usual three loads of laundry and find one more stinker (literally!) hiding under the couch, behind the door or rolled up under some poor, innocent toy. They are e v e r y w h e r e. And, when I say they stink, I mean...THEY STINK!

Just how bad is it? My SON asked me to please help him get rid of the smell, because, apparently, it bothers him, too. He’s not concerned about scaring away girls or subjecting others to his bodily odors, he really is nauseated by the smell of his own feet. I even have a shoes ON rule now with him because it’s not just the socks that stink...it’s the shoes...AND his feet.

So, I’ve invested in odor eaters in the hopes of taming the stinky feet monster. Wish me luck. Especially since I have two more boys who have not yet reached this stage and a daughter who is actually AFRAID of the stinky socks. Can’t say I blame her.

Feeling a Little Croppy. And Not in a Scrapbooking Kind of Way.

I’m talking about the THOUSANDS of pictures I have of my children...which I adore...but I can’t find a single one of me. Normally I wouldn't think much of it (and may even be a little relieved), but right now I’m scrambling to include a profile picture with the writings I’m submitting. I’ve come to the realization that not only can I count the number of pictures I’m in on one hand (out of the thousands), but my go-to pictures when I need them are the ones that I have cropped.

I’m pretty sure it started right after childbirth when I didn’t want to be photographed because I was overtired, overweight (and no longer pregnant) and feeling nothing like myself. And then the focus continues to be on the infant, then baby, then toddler, then preschooler, then sports and it goes on. Until one day I realize that all those years I spent dodging the camera or being the one behind it means my kids will have little to no record of my existence. I sure hope the memories I’m creating for them will last, because it’s not going to be in print. And while I would have thought it narcissistic in the past to want to be in countless pictures, I am realizing now that it is actually a wonderful gift to give my children. Even when I’m having a bad hair day. Because, really, isn’t it fun and amusing to look back on pictures of YOUR parents when you were little? And have you seen the reaction of your little ones when they see what Grandma and Grandpa looked like way back when? From now on I won’t be afraid to ask strangers to take my picture with my kids, won’t shy away from a camera pointed my direction (even if I’m in my bathing suit or am sans make up), and promise to always smile graciously rather than duck away.

But in the mean time, I’m relegated to my own limited photography skills for my self portrait (yes, that’s me holding my camera out in front). What struck me, though, was that as I looked around at other mom’s profile pictures, I noticed that most of their pictures resemble mine. Isn’t is ironic (and a little sad) that the one person who is probably most influential in their children’s lives is the one person that is missing in pictures? My kids are gonna hate it, but that’s going to change for me. Starting...right...NOW.

Me and My Shadow

When training for a half marathon, weekends are synonymous with long runs of 10+ miles. I’m not going to lie...after a few miles the motivation wears off and I’m left looking for other sources of inspiration. Here’s my most recent discovery.

I have found the perfect running partner. We are exactly the same pace, I can still listen to my favorite tunes and I don’t have to hold a conversation while I’m huffing and puffing. And the best part is, whether it’s moonlight or sunlight, we’re always together.

So how is my shadow my ideal running partner? It takes a little imagination, but really, what else do you have to do mile after mile but run and think. So, when my shadow is in front of me, I challenge myself to step on it- kind of like shadowboxing, but it’s my feet that are punching the pavement. When my shadow is behind me, I race it, trying not to let it catch me. When it’s beside me, I run taller. When it’s at an angle out in front, it reminds me to check my form and stay light on my feet; and when it’s at an angle behind me, it reminds me to look over my shoulder and stay safe, alert and aware as I run. My shadow is happy to pull or push me up any size hill (you’d be surprised at the difference this can make!). And, in those instances when my shadow is no where to be found, I imagine it’s flying above me, floating me along.

My shadow celebrates with me when I triumph and walks closely with me when I don’t. My shadow might just be my new best running friend. So, if you’re needing a little extra motivation when you’re out there running (or walking), take a look around the ground...chances are, there is somebody very close cheering you on.

Soccer and Sideline Parents

It was down to the third quarter of a close game; the score was 0-1. The boys were tired from giving it their all and playing in the hot afternoon sun. Half time was almost over and it was time for a pep talk. Coach huddled the team up and did his best to convince them to dig deep. After all, they were only one point behind the league’s fiercest opponent, and giving up now would mean giving them victory. As coach rattled off their field assignments, he sent the boys out to claim their territory, which they all did with unwavering determination. Except one kid. He was pouting because he didn’t want to play in the position that coach had assigned to him.

He moped onto the field and just before the whistle blew to start the quarter he broke down crying. Now, I understand that he REALLY wanted to play a different position, but part of playing on a team means you play your best, no matter where the coach puts you. This kid defiantly crossed his arms and hung his head in disappointment, tears streaming, as coach pulled him off the field and hustled in a replacement.

The child’s frustration turned into anger as he sat down in protest at the sideline. Coach gave his best “I understand you don’t want to play that position, but that’s where the team needs you” speech but it fell on deaf ears. Instead, he got an earful in return from an eight year old about how much he hates that position, hates soccer and isn’t having fun!

Now, if that were my kid, I wouldn’t have hesitated to pull him aside, calm him down and make him apologize to his coach. After all, what good is he to the team if he refuses to listen to the coach? It was unquestionably a teachable moment.

So I was shocked to see his mom crouch down be side him, comfort him, then proceed to angrily question the coach, “Why isn’t he playing?!”. Coach tried to calmly and patiently (while also trying to coach a game) explain to her that her son had refused to play in the position he was given. Now, let me just say, that I understand as a mother the intense desire to protect your child; to ensure their happiness and rescue them from their frustrations. I GET THAT. But this was one of those important character-building opportunities to teach her son- if not by example- how to deal with life’s disappointments.

Instead of turning to her son and helping him see the value of being part of a team and the importance of listening to the coach, the mom stood up and raised her voice to the coach, and demanding an answer, shouted, “Why can’t he just play in the position he wants to play in?!”. Like son, like mother. Really? That’s what you want to teach your child? Throw a tantrum and get your way. Who cares about the team or the authority of a coach? You’re going to prevent the coach from coaching because you think your son is the only thing that matters right now? What about the other seven kids on the field- including mine- who are tired and playing their hearts out. Take a seat, lady, this is not the time nor the place.

At first I was slightly horrified and really irritated by this situation (can you tell?). After all, the coach is a volunteer, is great with the kids and has done a phenomenal job. (I later made it a point of telling him that). I find it really unfortunate that this woman was teaching her son that when you don’t get your way, throwing a tantrum and disrespecting authority is perfectly acceptable. And then it occurred to me...outside of soccer, SHE is this child’s authority. So, while she may not have recognized it in this soccer moment, I’m sure the day will come (probably after years of therapy) when she realizes that she is, in effect, teaching her son to defy HER. And, suddenly, I found peace with it all.

You Know My Preschoolers Have Older Siblings Because...

My three year old is telling his playground friends “you’re not making good decisions!”

My toddlers know all the characters in Star Wars and Pokemon

My sweet babies sing songs about burping, farting and pooping

My three year old’s vocabulary includes the phrases “that’s stupid”, “I hate that” and “oh, whatever”...used completely out of context

My daughter is trying to shoot the boys and gets mad when they don’t play dead

They insist on wearing backpacks (full of toys) to school like the big kids

They already complain about homework they don’t have

“Ewwww! That’s disgusting (which they can’t really pronounce)!”

And families without older siblings steer clear because of it.  Can't say I blame them.

Parenting the Child that is ME

It’s taken me years to begin to understand how it’s even possible for two people, namely a parent and child, to be so alike in so many ways and there be so much conflict because of it. It defies logic, really.

My oldest was born an old soul. He didn’t even look like a baby when he was an infant, he looked like an old man. He has always been serious, pensive, quiet, an enforcer of rules (notice I don’t say “follower” of rules...), cautious, intense and wise. He’s a very sweet kid, (usually) very good with his younger siblings and is unstoppable (literally) when he puts his mind to something. He is a child any mom would be proud to call hers. But those are his good qualities.

He’s also very stubborn, strong-willed, literal, argumentative, quick tempered and a bit mischieveious. He’s my button pusher. Therein lies the answer to my question. We are a lot alike in many good ways, but MORE alike in the less desirable ways. And whether we mean to or not, and we react to situations in the EXACT. SAME. WAY.

And, just like we as parents swear that we won’t be like our parents, we try in earnest to keep our kids from embodying the things we don’t like about ourselves. Given my son’s propensity to act and talk in much the same (negative) ways, it starts to make sense that my conflicted frustration grows as emotions escalate. And there you have it, it is because we are alike in the wrong ways that our similarities become our differences. Now I have to figure out how to be less like myself, more like the me I want to be and embrace the child that is.

Now, what do I do about the second and third children who have the same problem? I guess the good news is that neither of them is like me.

Preschool 3.0

This is our third (and fourth) go around with preschool and, I have to say, it is a much different experience this time around. It’s not that the school has changed...it’s that I have.

Preschool 1.0 was our bubble. That’s were my son met his friends, and I did too. We had play dates and birthday parties, mom get togethers and frequent coffee visits. I knew every mom’s name and considered all of them friends. By the time my second child started preschool, I had two in preschool (going opposite days), and became even more entrenched in the environment. We would arrive early so the kids could greet their friends, stay late so we could linger on the playground, and I would happily volunteer when needed. I formed a tight knit group of friends with whom I could relate because we had a lot of the same challenges, and for most of us, were experiencing preschool for the first time with our oldest children.

So what’s changed? My world. Our bubble has expanded far beyond those iron preschool gates, and I no longer have the luxury of leisurely coming and going and sacrificing my free time. My time without kids is precious and I am now one of those moms who is arriving just in the nick of time in the morning and is quick to leave after pick up.

It’s not just my schedule that’s changed...looking around the school yard I notice that more moms than not have a baby in their arms and are bonding over sharing the same challenges with similarly aged children like I once did. I am not one of them. I have become the “mom with older kids”. You can tell us because we don’t bring our kids to school in their cutest, cleanest outfit (and mine, who dress themselves, are usually completely mismatched). We don’t rush to our child who may have fallen or stay longer in the classroom because our child is anxious we are leaving. We aren’t packing homemade, organic snacks for our kids and we don’t cringe when we see the paint set out for the kids. It’s school. It’s messy. That’s how they learn. And at least it’s not at my house. I don’t know many of the moms’ names, and the ones I do know I know from bonding over preschool 2.0.

So, while preschool 3.0 has been a different experience, it’s still a meaningful one for me. It’s a valuable reminder of how much I’ve grown, how much more confidence I have now and how much of a better mother I’ve become because of it. And this time around I can focus more on what the experience means to my children, not just me, which makes it more fun for everyone.

Now...where are the finger paints???

Photo: Salvatore Vuono

Having an Identity Crisis

I had one several years ago when I first decided to stay home. I found it difficult to transition from my official, hard-earned work title to the very unglamorous, generic title of “mom”. I struggled with how to fill in forms when they asked for my occupation...”mom” seemed too vague and since it was not a paid position, didn’t seem relevant. “Wife” implied no kids, which pretty much implies no work, which was no where near accurate. “Volunteer” seemed too contradictory, since that would imply that I had the freedom to come and go as I pleased, pick and choose which responsibilities I took on and make my own decisions about how and when to help others. No... “servant” might be a better description...but maybe a bit too harsh. And “President” and “CEO” of our household seemed a bit of a stretch. Then there are all the smaller jobs that I fulfill, like tutor, cook, nurse, chauffer, coach, teacher, nanny, housekeeper (the list goes on...), but that brings me back to the fact that none of these are paid positions. So, who am I?

I finally made peace with the title of “at-home mom”. Having been a working mom, I felt that somehow having an occupation outside of “mom” precluded me from being “mom” on these silly forms. At least “at-home mom” makes it clear that I work hard to take care of my kids, family and home. And I REFUSE to fill in “none” for my occupation.

So, here I am, several years later, and I’m facing the same identity crisis. Only this time, I’m going back to work (kind of). I’ve started taking on some part time work, but I’m left questioning how this changes my “occupation”. Now I’m a “working at-home mom”...or do I list my part time occupation as my primary occupation and not mention being at home with kids? Or, does part time work not even count as a true occupation, and should I should omit it completely? But it’s work that I do- paid work- and shouldn’t that count for something?

I’ve now settled on the official title of “part time working at home mom”. It’s kind of long, but it says it all...the only question left to answer now, is do I list my family or my paid job as my employer?

Top 10 Questions/Comments I Get As A Mother of Twins...And My Responses

1. Are they twins?
Why, yes. Yes, they are. (Then people respond, “I thought so...but they’re so big”. Apparently twins grow just like real babies.)
2. Oh, you finally got your girl!
Yes, but with 3 older brothers, she hasn’t figured out she’s a girl yet.
3. I don’t know how you do it.
I try not to think about it.
4. Are they identical?
Ummm, no. This one’s a boy and this one’s a girl.
5. Did you use fertility?
No. (thought: but if I had I’m not sure I would share the details of my personal reproduction with a perfect stranger)
6. Do you have twins in your family?
I do now.
7. How much did they weigh when they were born?
He was 6 lbs, she was 5.11. (Which usually prompts the response, “Wow, that’s a lot of baby”. My translation: “Wow, you must have been HUGE...” Yep, I was pretty much bursting with babies).
8. Do they have their own language?
Yes, English
9. Oh, a boy and a girl, you’re done now, right?
I find this question a little presumptive- see #5- and you should see their face when I answer, “Actually I have four. But, yes, we are done.”
10. Were they full term?
Luckily, yes (or close enough, just one day shy). At which point I am guaranteed to hear a story about someone they know who had twins...

But it goes with the territory. And the best part is that when you meet someone else with twins you have an instant friend with whom to share stories, co-miserate and exchange admiration. Having twins isn’t easy, but I feel privileged to be among some of the strongest women I know.

Life in Two Minute Increments

Having twins has its perks. But it also has its drawbacks. Apparently today is I-want-what-you-have day, as it has been filled with a series of tug-of-wars over certain toys. All. Day. Long. My solution? The timer, set for two minutes and mandated sharing. Why two minutes? Because that’s about the maximum amount of time I can tolerate the crying and screaming that ensues when the desire to play with a toy overwhelms their senses. That, and it’s just enough time for a three year old’s attention span to wear off.

And when the timer doesn’t work, time out does. Which also lasts about two minutes. And since most of our day seems to be comprised of timers and time outs, it’s being lived in increments of two minutes at a time. And it keeps me from losing it...I can keep my cool through two minutes much easier than I can get through two hours. Today is one of those days where trying to teach my kids patience and perspective reminds me to do the same.

I don’t know what’s worse...the whirlwind last minute frenzy of trying to pack for a family camping trip, complete eight loads of laundry and squeeze it into duffel bags, dig out the buried supplies and equipment and make multiple trips to the store- with kids- for the things we keep forgetting...OR...actually having to go camping with all four kids. The second one is optional, the first one is not.

Don’t get me wrong, I actually enjoy camping. But camping with kids isn’t my idea of fun. “In my world”, as my kids put it, camping includes lots of recreation, no schedules, resting in a lounge chair and reading a book or taking a hike when and where ever I want. Camping with kids is without question a LOT of work. There is lots of recreation...to keep the kids busy (thereby wearing out the adults), no schedules (which translates into staying up way too late, waking up with sunlight and foregoing any naps), and resting with four kids really never happens, no matter where we are. Add to that not getting a good night’s sleep and, well, there you have it. (Besides, with half my kids gone, staying at home is as close to a vacation as I get!)

So, I’ll put up with the first (non)option, if I don’t have to endure the second. Maybe when the days of potty training are far behind us and the older kids aren’t constantly fighting it will be tolerable (and maybe even fun). In the mean time, I will brace myself for the aftermath that is camping...the whirlwind UNpacking from a camping trip, eight loads of dirty laundry to clean and put away and refilling the backpacks with school books and binders. But at least I’ll get a good night’s sleep.

The Quiet One

I’m always amazed to see a sibling sitting perfectly content and seemingly unaware of their brother or sister right next to them who is SCREAMING at the top of their lungs. Here is one thing I’ve learned about parenting: it’s usually the Quiet One’s fault. The Crying One is usually quick to point that out, but the Quiet One also knows I didn’t see it. So what does the Quiet One do? Deny it, of course!

So now that it’s become a game of Quiet-said-versus-Crying-said, the original offense becomes less and less relevant until there is a full-scale meltdown about whom I believe. Suddenly, the Quiet One has masterfully manipulated the situation into MY fault for not trusting the Quiet One’s version of the truth. Worried I am going to break Quiet One’s ego, fill Quiet One with self-loathing and basically screw Quiet One up for life, I hesitate...for a moment. I may not have seen it, but this is a perfect example of how actions speak louder than words. And Quiet One’s actions (or lack thereof) are screaming GUILTY!

So Quiet One has now turned unsuspecting mother into Yelling One at Quiet One, while trying to comfort Crying One. And, as I ponder why Quiet One is lying to me, I reminisce about the myriad of lies I told as a child- not because I was a bad kid, but simply because I didn’t want to get in trouble. So I’m compelled to teach Quiet One yet another lesson on the importance of being honest with consequences for lying...right after Yelling One emerges with her sanity after deep breathing exercises in the garage.

WHY BEING A MOM MAKES ME A BETTER PERSON

~If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing
~You have no one else to blame for your bad decisions; if you don't like the outcome, make a different one
~What did we learn from this and what are we going to differently next time?
~Hurting people solves nothing
~You're not allowed to call him names but you can tell him how you feel
~Practice makes perfect
~We're all good at different things...that's what makes us special (in other words, no one is good at everything)
~It only hurts for a little while and then it feels better
~If you're not nice to him then he's not going to be nice to you (or, "treat others the way you want to be treated")
~You don't get things because you want them, you get them because you earn them
~If we did this all the time, then it wouldn't be special
~It doesn't matter how it started, what matters is how it ends
~You will get in A LOT more trouble if you don't tell the truth, then you will if you do tell the truth
~Life's not always fair

Let's face it, these lessons take a lifetime to learn (they are just as applicable to the workplace as they are to the playground).  And my kids are more than happy to hold me accountable when I'm not putting these things into practice.  At least I know they are listening...and that being a parent is making me a better person.

GOODBYE PAYCHECKS, HELLO PLAY DATES...MAKING THE DECISION TO STAY AT HOME

Several years ago I hung up my professional suits, gave back my company car and forfeited my generous income. I made one of the single most important decisions in my life: to quit my job and stay home with my kids (then two years old and ten months old). Why did I do that? Believe me, I’ve asked myself this question in earnest more than a couple times, but I always come back to the same answer: to be the one raising my kids.

I never intended to be a stay at home mom....it just happened. I had convinced myself early on that I was a better mother because I worked; that when I was with them I could give them my full attention and all my love. For some people this may be true. But my moment of truth (another story for another time) made me fully aware that this wasn’t the case for me. By the time I came home at the end of the day I was tired (and often still had work to do). My children had spent ten of their eleven hour day to that point in the care of someone else. Not to mention the piles of laundry that greeted me, the snowballing dust bunnies and the stack of crusty dishes left from rushing out that morning. The time I did spend with my kids was largely comprised of getting them ready for someone else to take care of them.

Since my husband had more long term income potential, we mutually decided that I would be the one to stay home. (That, and I’m the neat one). But I had no idea how hard being an at home mom would be. Forget the inconvenience of living on less than half our previous income, I’m talking about the non-stop job of caring for a house and family, keeping two kids two and under from hurting themselves (or each other) and having no choice but to meet the every need of my children. Constantly.

So, do I regret giving up paychecks for play dates? I can’t say I do. I’m not a perfect mom but I’ve learned quite a bit about motherhood, parenting and myself. And if my kids end up completely screwed up? Well, at least I know who to blame.

MORE ABOUT ME

Let me start by telling you who I’m NOT. I am not super mom. Or super wife for that matter. My house is in disarray more often than not and my minivan is a graveyard of fossilized food. I am not a gourmet cook, craft extraordinaire or master gardener.

I AM a thirty-something mother of four young kids, living in suburban Southern California. And I love my family dearly, but in a life amid chaos, I’m lucky to finish a sentence, let alone a complete thought. When I do, I find that I have so much to say, so much to share and so much to learn. And I love to write. So, blogging is a perfect way for me to bring my perspective into focus for all to see.

I also hope it can bring other mothers like me together. Not to judge or lay guilt, but to share a sense of community (and probably a lot of funny stories). We all have a lot to say, a lot to share and a lot to learn. Join me in my journey about motherhood and other musings.