My Thousand Mile Journey

It crossed my mind this time last year, but I didn’t want to set myself up for failure.  I knew the math should work, but life can be unpredictable.  So I set the idea aside and instead decided that in 2012 my goal for running was to simply enjoy it.  No pressure for PR’s (personal records), no distance calendars to follow, no ignoring warning signs of injury that might slow me down.  Instead, I would enjoy the moment, listen to my body, run fast when I wanted to, run slow when I wanted to, and use the time to digest my thoughts and let ideas percolate.

So I was caught a little off guard when I received the email from my RunKeeper app that I reached 1,000 miles this past year.  Wow.  In 1,000 miles I could have run to Eugene, Oregon...to Las Vegas- ONE AND A HALF TIMES...or to the Grand Canyon- AND BACK.  A thousand miles is a long way, with nothing but my own two feet, the discipline and will to move them, and some favorite music as a soundtrack to life.  


But I didn’t have to travel 1,000 miles away to have the experience of a lifetime. Some of those miles were in the pouring rain, some in extreme heat; most in total darkness, some in silvery moonlight, most at sunrise, and many at moonset.  There were hills that challenged and rewarded me.  There were times when I felt weightless and carried by the wind, and times when I felt like I was running backwards in molasses.  But most of the time I felt an indescribable inner peace.  I consciously tried to run with my senses, varying my path to experience different sights, sounds, smells and textures.  I saw raccoons, coyotes, bunnies and owls...and wildlife of another kind with a police chase, broken into cars, and the aftermath of recent accidents along my path (followed by a quick prayer of thanks that I wasn’t in that place at the wrong time).  I met new neighbors and made new friends.  And there isn’t a single run I can think of that I regret.  Not one.

In fact, to the contrary.  My memories of running those 1,000 miles are punctuated by the satisfaction of breaking a sweat in the freezing cold, from seeing the familiar comforts of smoke rising from a wood-burning chimney and the sweet smell of pancakes emanating from neighborhood homes; glorious sunrises that take my breath away and smiling moons that prompt me to smile back; the crunch of the gravel underfoot that reminds me that with every stride I move forward; shadows that accompany me and sunlight that shines ethereal rays of hope that light my path.  These are the moments that make it all worth it.  These are the moments that make 1,000 miles feel like a tremendous gift rather than a tedious chore.

And my gratitude for this significant reward is made sweeter by its unexpected timing.  I have a sense of satisfaction that is hard to calculate...so much so that I am positive that I would not have relished this achievement had I formally planned for it- I’d be too busy planning my next, bigger goal to celebrate.  It’s just my nature.  But not today.  Today I take a moment to reflect on my 1,000 mile journey, count my blessings, recognize my supportive family, and do a little happy dance while marveling at my thousand milestones.

And tomorrow I run again.

Why I Want My Kids To Fail

First, let me say for the record, that I do NOT want my kids to be failures.  Quite the opposite- I want them to be successful as much as possible in life...which, in my opinion, requires that they fail at least some of the time.

Here’s the thing: we are raising our kids in a society where they are rewarded for just showing up; where the expectation is not that they work hard, but that they are simply present.  We give trophies for just being on a sports team, regardless of their skill improvement; we incentivize kids to come to school by giving them prizes, regardless of their performance; we defend our kids and rescue them when they fail, removing any assignment of responsibility or value of meaningful consequences.  

Photo credit: Mmoyer

What do they learn from this?  That they are entitled to success and to win, and that somehow they deserve it.

I’m all for positive reinforcement, but I also see the danger of replacing the intrinsic rewards of intentionally setting, working towards, and achieving challenging goals with the idea that it is good enough just to be there.  Our professional jobs don’t work that way; our relationships don’t work that way; life does not work that way.  This breeds the kind of motivation (or lack thereof) that has people expending more energy looking for ways to work the system in their favor (which isn’t all that hard to do), than committing to, sacrificing when necessary, and doing their absolute best to be successful.  If you don’t know what it feels like to fail- if you miss the opportunity to learn from your mistakes- will you ever truly know and appreciate success?  Or will you just feel entitled to more?  

I don’t think anyone wants to fail, but each failure brings a unique opportunity to grow and learn and become a better person because of it.  And sometimes that opportunity from failure is well beyond the original goal of success.  Failure can be a gift.  Just look at the inspirational underdogs around us who have overcome inconceivable odds, like Oscar Pistorius (aka “Blade Runner”) from the 2012 summer Olympics, because they are willing to redefine success and be even better in spite of their disadvantages. And remember Christopher Columbus, the guy who discovered America...by mistake?  Take a minute to ponder this list of 50 Famously Successful People Who Failed At First- what would have happened if they ended their pursuit of success and settled for just good enough? 

Photo credit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walt_Disney

I love my kids and I want what’s best for them.  And, I’ll be the first to admit that my first instinct is to give them everything and/or do everything for them to make them happy- for the moment (and, if not to make my life easier).  But, in the end, I know that doing so only creates lazy, ungrateful, selfish people who just want more...and think they deserve it because they don’t know otherwise...because they haven’t learned that success is the result of overcoming failure, and the only way to overcome failure is with consistent effort and hard work.  

Okay, I’ve vacated the soap box, thanks for indulging me.  I would give you a trophy for participating, but... What are your thoughts on teaching kids how to fail so that they can ultimately succeed?

Back to School: Organizing the (In)Sanity for Kids and Parents

School supplies: check.  New clothes: check.  Finding out teacher assignments and seeing friends after a long summer: check.  Ready to learn: well...

Photo Credit: Digitalphotonut

It’s taken me more than a couple years of being a mom and going through the back-to-school routine to realize that preparing and organizing to go back to school is more than just filling a backpack with supplies and wearing some of the latest fashions.  In fact, it’s much more.  While some kids look forward with anticipation to the new classroom, new teacher, and new challenges, others are filled with angst about settling into a new environment , anxiety about whether their teacher will be approachable or intimidating, and fear about not being able to learn the information.

Take my oldest, for example.  He struggled quite a bit in third grade- not with the actual curriculum as much as with the “dynamic” (which in his case was a euphemism for “inconsistent”) classroom format of teaching.  He does not do well with change...and as a result of being forced to adapt to ongoing changes- and being in a perpetual state of being frustrated and feeling lost- came to the conclusion that he can’t “do” school.  He absolutely can, but he internalized his inability to keep up with the changes as an ineptitude for school.  (Insert exasperated sigh) Who says motherhood and parenting get easier as kids get older?  

I talked to his teacher- her solution was to sit down with him once or twice to help him organize the notebook he uses in class.  I talked to the school counselor (since his deflating self confidence was carrying over into his social interactions)- her solution was to sit down with him and help him organize his notebook...differently.  I did my best from home to help him be consistent with his homework schedule and where he put his completed work (which, more often than not, he didn’t turn in).  And while I emailed his teacher regularly, I just didn’t feel he was getting the support he needed.  At the same time, he was getting to an age where too much coddling and too accommodating can perpetuate his feeling of incompetence, which would surely contribute to his declining self esteem.  And this was only THIRD grade!  

So, while I will be the first to admit that I’m breathing a sigh of relief now that summer is over, I have carried a certain hesitation going into this next school year.  I keep asking myself, “How can I help him get/stay organized?”.  Then it occurred to me that no one was actually teaching him the skills on how to be organized; they were just telling him where to put things.  He needed to understand how to organize his thoughts first so that he could organize his actions.   

The saying, “A goal without a plan is just a wish” has never made more sense to me.  

He needed a plan for getting organized that he could apply to any challenge or situation, no matter where he was.  Here’s what I came up with:

It’s pretty self explanatory, but basically, it’s all about being prepared so that you have the best possible chances for success.  And who doesn’t want to be successful?  It’s simple enough to be able remember and understand, and flexible enough to apply to most situations.  And best of all, it makes him feel in control of the situation.

We’ve revisited this a few times together when frustration levels begin to escalate and have found that it helps diffuse the situation and bring the focus back to the task at hand.  We also followed up our introduction of this concept with a labeling gun session where we labeled important things in his environment to help make life, well, more organized- like where to put shoes, his soccer gear, his homework pencils, and other things he often loses that contribute to his (and my) frustration insanity.

So far he’s more organized, and I’m more sane, so I call that success!  And it applies to more than just life with kids- my husband and I have even found ourselves putting these specific ideas into practice outside of being parents when we are feeling overwhelmed.  And, you know what?  It helps!  Give it a try next time you feel insanity taking over.  

What back to school tips and ideas do you have for making the transition smoother for everyone?

The Art of Motherhood, Sales and Negotiations

I will never forget my first car buying experience.  I was getting ready to graduate college, was starting to interview for my first “professional” job and my car at the time was 17 years old.  It was time.  I enthusiastically wound my way through the maze of shiny cars at the Toyota dealership like a kid searching through presents on Christmas morning as I was approached by a salesperson.  We had the standard exchange of “What are you looking for?” to which I replied that I wasn’t quite sure yet but wanted to find out my options.  I knew I wanted a Toyota or a Honda but that was about it.  I was giving him a golden opportunity at that moment.

Photo credit: Yunhao Zhang

I inquired about the price of the first vehicle I encountered.  His response?  “Do you even know how much this car costs?”  Uh, no, obviously.  And now I felt like an idiot (it turned out that was a high end Toyota Avalon).  The point here is that I left the dealership within minutes after that, went directly to the Honda dealership and drove off hours later in a brand new Accord.  Oh, and I told everyone I knew where NOT to buy a Toyota.

Let’s be honest- when you think “salesperson” you automatically recall your worse sales experience and conjure up images of a fast talking, aggressive, obnoxious- if not offensive- person relentlessly following you around as you try your best to politely decline a conversation about how much you need their amazing product or service.  No one likes being “sold” to.

Interestingly, when I reflect on my experiences as a consumer, I realize that those really positive experiences with salespeople are harder to pinpoint.  Why?  Because I didn’t feel like I was being sold; I wasn’t being convinced that I wanted something I didn’t need, but rather had guidance finding something that was right for me.  It didn’t feel like a sales experience, it felt like a win-win negotiation.  Which is the way I think we all prefer it.

The truth is, we are all “salespeople”.  As mothers, we pitch ideas to our kids all the time, then we negotiate until we feel mutually satisfied with the outcome (or one of us goes to time out).  Even in those moments, we are exchanging thoughts and ideas, listening and learning from that interaction, and negotiating and empowering our children to make their own decisions.  Remember this post about getting my strong-willed daughter to finally decide to pick up her puzzle pieces?  Being a mom is the best on-the-job sales training experience there is.  And we learn the value of being consistent, efficient and opportunistic, as well as the importance of not just educating, but understanding what's important to the other person.

And it’s not just motherhood that utilizes selling skills- they are the foundation for most of our interactions in life.  Think about it...we use them in our marriages, when we date, when we interview for jobs, when we interact with peers, when we teach, when we post to Facebook, and every time we interact with other people.  Even as a consumer.  We are our own sales representative, and we all are our own unique brand.  

Photo credit: Wilfred Stanley Sussenbach

Which means, like it or not, we are ALL salespeople.  And life is a series of negotiations.  It's just a matter of what we're willing to learn and how we choose to apply our skills.

What are your thoughts?

Musings on Playground Judgement

The way I see it, most of us parents out there fall into three categories when it comes to supervising our kids on the playground.  We can be 1) overprotective, 2) over permissive, 3) somewhere in between.  And, just as the kids are quick to size up potential playmates, parents are quick to size up each other on the playground.  He’s totally fixated on his phone and not even watching his kid who’s throwing rocks, She’s hovering over her child like a hawk and won’t even let her play on the structure...

Photo: Roughcollie

I am an “in between” parent (or at least I think I am).   Many of our park excursions with the overprotective parent result in my child either somehow making the other child cry (usually by accident), or teaching them some undesirable behavior/words/other means of problem solving.  They’re kids, they’re still figuring stuff out.  Conversely, when we encounter children of over permissive parents I have to run double duty to make sure my kids don’t enthusiastically follow theirs out of sight or mimic them jumping off the top of the play structure.  

I have to admit, however, that I’ve been both.  And because of that I try not to judge.  Like when we went to the park a few days ago.  My kids were pretending they were on a pirate ship, and when a newcomer came aboard he was met with loud, hostile “pirates” (my 3 year old son and daughter, plus one other).  Before I could intervene and remind them that the structure was for everyone, the dad of the new child called my kids “brats”, instructed his kid to call my kids “brats”, and then removed his child from the play structure to play somewhere else.  

So my kids followed him.  There are a couple other things worth mentioning.  The boy was the same age (three) as my son and sporting a cap gun (which my son thought was the coolest thing ever).   And the dad looked stereotypically gangster-ish with his attire and tattoos, and the way he carried himself.  After my son apologized to the other boy, the kids got over it and played happily together for the better part of an hour.

I could have been passive and let it go, knowing the problem had been resolved without my involvement.  Or, I could have been overprotective and addressed this man for calling my kids “brats” unjustly.  But I could tell this dad was out of his comfort zone and he was defending his kid the best way he knew how.  Putting my stereotypes aside, I befriended him.  I explained that my child wasn’t trying to be mean, he was just playing “pirate”.  I also mentioned that my son was the same age (since he’s often mistaken for a five year old because of his size), and, like all three year olds, was still learning to play cooperatively.  Before you knew it, the dad relaxed, was equally friendly and the kids had a lot of fun together.

And, while I think that dad will probably continue to be overprotective and rescue his little guy in these types of situations, hopefully he can appreciate that sometimes it’s just a misunderstanding, and not meant to be personal.  And, maybe, just maybe, he left the park that day feeling a little less judgemental about stereotypes...like the “suburban stay at home mom”.  I know I did.

What kind of playground parent are you and how has that shaped your experience with others?

Musings on Mommy Burnout

All the signs were there...I was dreading getting out of bed in the morning, knowing what the day would bring.  I had become complacent about things I should have cared about.  I had given up trying to do things the right way and settled for just getting by doing things the easy way.  I just couldn’t find the fight, energy or excitement in me.  I was burned out.

Photo: Thorsten

 So often we think of “burnout” in terms of career (okay, paid) jobs.  Who is to say that the long hours, constant stress in the form of whining, arguing and interrupting, and an ongoing demand for unrealistic productivity and attention isn’t cause for burnout in moms?  We can’t “leave it at the office”, drop a problematic client (or just ignore them), take a mental health or sick day, or decide to quit our jobs.  I am responsible for keeping my family going.  

I know (thanks to my guilty mom voice) that it should be enough to have such an amazing family.  I should feel blessed to have a husband that loves me, kids that are healthy, a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, and our safety and security.  AND I DO.  But when your “career” is to GIVE of yourself all.the.time. burnout is a real risk, even for the strongest of moms.  Let’s face it, cleaning the pee off the toilet six times a day is not what I envisioned myself doing when I accepted the privilege to stay at home.

So now what?  Here’s what helped me:

Hello again!

I’ve missed you.  I’ve missed writing.  I’ve missed being in this space where I get so much needed perspective on motherhood and the insanity of life!  But...I’m back.

After the last few months of being a semi-single mom of four (as the wife of a tax accountant, which happens every spring and fall), surviving the terrible three’s times two (by the way, when did it also become the terrible eights and nines?), and helping take care of my mother in law trying to hold her ground with metastasized breast cancer, I just didn’t have much in me to offer to my blog. 

Photo: Cristian Nitu

What I know now is that writing and my blog was the ONE thing that could have helped ease the stress by keeping so much of it in perspective.  And now that I’ve been reminded of that, I hope to carry it forward.  In the mean time, I have brain full of musings that are looking for a home :)

You may have noticed that I also took this opportunity to freshen up my blog.  While I liked the darkness because I felt like it represented a view into my consciousness, I’ve decided a lighter, more uplifting feel might be more appropriate.  I still feel like it’s missing something, what do you think?

Anyway, enough about me.  How have you been?

Sticks and Stones...

May break my bones...but the rest is totally untrue! Just ask any kid (or grown up, for that matter)- words hurt! I’ve heard this is especially problematic with grade-school girls, but since I’m not there yet, my only experience so far is with boys. But it still rings true, especially if you have a sensitive kid, and especially if he is associated in any way with being a baby.

My seven and nine year old had their first lesson in virality and how, once you put it out there, there’s no taking it back. I’m sure the seven year old didn’t intend to be mean- this is the comedian who often speaks before he thinks- but his hurtful and inaccurate words about his brother “playing with baby toys” were blurted out in an effort to get laughs...and spread like wildfire. (Note to self: another thing to add to the list of why being a mom makes me a better person- MEAN IS NOT FUNNY).

Anyway, the three of us had a long discussion about being careful about we say about others, being family and sticking together, and the importance of talking in truths. The reality is, the babies (who are now 3 ½ and not really babies) like all the toys their big brothers play with, so it’s not fair to say that his brother plays with baby toys just because they play together. And, for the record, the seven year old plays with them too. They are learning the hard way that things like this can’t be undone. And, unfortunately, it’s a lifelong lesson they may have to learn more than once.

But this whole situation got me thinking...if it weren’t my other son (and his brother) that started this “rumor”, knowing my nine year old is feeling ostracized, would I have taken a different course of action? Would I be expressing my concerns to the principal about the kid who is bullying my child? I think I would have...which is a reality check as far as I’m concerned.

While I do believe that bullying is a real problem, I think our kids are SO aware of it that they lose their ability to confront issues and problem solve, and label any mean thing another kid does as being “bullied”. We’ve made our kids hyper-sensitive, when, really, kids can just be mean. Period. I, for one, think that the sooner my kids realize and understand the difference between a real bully and a bad decision, the better off they will be. I didn’t “get it” until I was out of high school, but some people never “get it”. Best they learn now, don’t you think?

This is Motherhood!

Some aspects of parenting come more naturally to me than others. Give me a child who’s sick and I can confidently nurse them back to health in no time. Challenge me with a child who is emotionally complicated and having trouble expressing anger and frustration...watch me panic. I’ve been reminded that I have a lot of work to do when it comes to parenting my nine year old...and myself.

My son has always been especially challenging to me as a parent, mostly because he and I are so alike in so many ways. And this is one of those times when I completely understand where he’s coming from...he’s having issues with a friend because his friend doesn’t want to play the same way as my son. An ongoing power struggle has ensued, which has brought out the meanness in both of them. I know my son doesn’t want to alienate his friend, I know he likes playing with him, but he’s extremely frustrated and angry that he’s not feeling heard or acknowledged and it has manifested itself in a passive-aggressive way. Yet, he blames his friend for his anger because his friend is not cooperating. After giving him my best “you have to take responsibility for your own actions” and “we treat people the way we want to be treated” lecture, the bells rang clearly...

This is motherhood!

I live this constantly and on a daily basis. How many times a day do I tell my kids, “If you would just listen....”? Admittedly, my BIGGEST challenge as a mom is to RESPOND and not REACT to situations. My son’s too. Which is why I know I must model how to stop myself, reflect on the problems that arise, consider other people’s perspectives and work towards a solution. Calmly.

Once again I am reminded that motherhood makes me a better person because it puts my own character flaws in the spotlight and motives me to change them for the sake of my children. What has your journey taught you lately?

Who Stole the Cookie from the Cookie Jar?

I love my kids. I’d give my life for my kids. But they can’t have my cookies.

I know it sounds selfish, and it probably is (despite my rationale that I’m preventing them from eating unhealthy food by eating it myself), but motherhood is the second-ultimate sacrifice. Your life (and in the early stages your body) are not your own.

So in a life with kids where I can’t use the bathroom for two minutes without being beckoned by a loud “maaaahhhhaaammm” and my every activity revolves around responding (notice I don’t say “meeting”) their every demand there are a few sacred moments/rituals/items that bring me temporary joy and refuel my spirit for motherhood. Coffee at the crack of dawn by myself at the kitchen table is one of them....chocolate chip cookies is another. (It’s a good thing that running is another one...).

I keep my secret cookie stashes strategically placed around the kitchen and have perfected the art of sneaking them...or so I thought. I got caught red-handed again today by my oldest who demanded I show him what was in my hand. Talk about a role reversal! I balked for a second at the thought of sharing and then surrendered to guilt. But when I showed him he just smiled. He didn’t even ask for any (what can I say, he’s well trained!). I was so relieved by his reaction that it made me realize that sometimes it’s more important to be playful and mischievous than to be the ever rule-enforcing mom. We could all use a little more smiling and giggling.

I am unapologetic about my love for cookies and my reluctance to share them, but I think my kids love me anyway. So, I admit it, I stole the cookie from the cookie jar!

What do you rely on to get you through the day?

5 Reasons To Go For A Run In The Cold

Okay, here’s my disclaimer: I live in Southern California and I don’t know real cold compared to other parts of the country. BUT, I am an early morning runner and run regularly in temperatures from the mid-30’s on up. So, I’m kind of qualified to make this post. Here goes...


5. Don't over think it.  Stop trying to find a logical reason for running in the cold. You will have much more success if you absolutely refuse to think about. Sure, it takes discipline to get out the door, but it takes as much, if not more, discipline to keep your left brain out of it. You’re going. Period. Do what you have to do to get out the door.


4. Schedule it. Why? Because you will always find something better to do than run in the cold. See #5. The more you can make it a habit, the easier it is to find the discipline. Don’t expect to “find” the time- you won’t; you must “make” the time.

3. The views are spectacular. Seriously, weather always makes for something interesting to look at. Whether it’s the glistening of ice on rooftops, the brilliant sunrise/sunset, or the sights and sounds of winter, you can find inspiration from the world around you. For me, it’s the silhouette of the mountains in the distance contrasted with the sunrise in the early morning. Some days I’m lucky enough to watch the moon set simultaneously. And, yes, some mornings THIS is what gets me out the door. It’s peaceful, beautiful and refreshing to see life from the perspective of my own moving feet.


2. The colder it is, the faster you will go. I’m not sure this is a scientific theory, but it’s been my experience. You are anxious to get to the point of not being freezing and the only way to accomplish that is to break a sweat (just be sure you are not wearing anything cotton). And, once you’re out there, the sooner you get back, the sooner you find warmth; it’s a good incentive when you need it to be.  Likewise, (and maybe equally unscientific) is that I always feel like I burn more calories in the cold because my body is working extra hard to keep warm.  And it's pretty darn cool to create your own steam cloud when you're done- kinda makes me feel superheroish.


1. It’s impossible to be tired and cold at the same time. Again, not sure about the science behind this statement, but I’m speaking from experience. Cold air wakes up the senses. If your excuse to not run is the because you're too tired, then turn that excuse into your reason to run! You will feel more awake after a good run in the cold.  I have yet to regret going for a run.  Ever.  But have many times regretted not going.  Don't let the cold keep you from being the athlete you want to be.

A couple additional pieces of advice. Dress appropriately. I wear gloves, a hat and make sure to double (and sometimes triple) up on layers, especially around my core. For those of you in “real” weather, here are some more good tips. If it’s dark, be sure to wear reflective gear (I have an arm band I can easily strap on to be visible to unsuspecting drivers). From a safety standpoint, it’s always a good idea to run against traffic and off the road, and stay aware of the cars and people around you. If you’re a female (and even if you’re not), take a self defense class regularly and carry pepper spray and your phone. And, lastly, be sure to tell someone your route before you leave, and try to vary that often.

And for those of you who still aren’t convinced it’s worth running in the cold, don’t worry, the there’s always the heat and humidity to look forward to. :) Happy running!

Camping Out

My 3 year old daughter was born to camp. It’s not her fault, it’s in her genes. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) And she’s only really been real camping once, but she’s a natural.

Which is the one thing I kept going back to over the past year and then some that she’s been sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag. Oh, she has a bed. A nice toddler bed with cute sheets with trains, trucks and airplanes. (She was supposed to have bed with the pretty pink flowered bedding, but true to her personality and intense competitiveness, she decided the bed intended for her brother was to be hers. Good thing he didn’t really care. And no one needs to know his bedding has pink flowers, right?).

But this is all beside the point. Following a visit from her Aunt (who is a wildlife biologist and spends much of her time camping) and thanks to the sleeping bag her Aunt left behind, my daughter has become a floor sleeper. Her bed sits empty while she chooses night after night to sleep in the sleeping bag on the floor. Hey, if she’s willing to actually sleep, I’m not going to complain about where that occurs, as long as I get to also.

So, now that we’ve played musical rooms and switched the bedrooms around, she and her twin brother have inherited the biggest bedroom...with wood floors. I thought this would be my opportunity to get her sleeping in her bed again. It’s not a huge issue, but I do like the thought of her being up off the floor for the sake of things that crawl. And so far she’s been receptive to the idea- as long as she still gets to sleep in her sleeping bag. Okay, great, that’s fair!

But I discovered something. She’s a super squirmy sleeper and has been rolling out of bed (still in her sleeping bag) multiple times a night and onto the wood floor. Her bed is low to the ground and it does have a small guard rail, but it’s no match for the wiggling girl in a sleeping bag that easily hurdles it. So, the problem now is that I’m up 3-4 times every.single.night. getting her back to bed since the hard landing always wakes her up.

She is finally content to sleep in her bed but now I’m not getting enough sleep. I’ll figure out a way to solve this unanticipated problem (I’m thinking it may involve a carpeted indoor tent), but I had to take a moment to examine the irony of how trying to solve what we perceive to be a small problem- like unnecessarily sleeping on the floor- creates a bigger problem. My daughter is not an in-the-box child OR in-the-bed kind of sleeper; the more I can embrace that, the better. However I look at it, it’s a great reminder that, even thought I’m MOM, I don’t know everything...and sometimes she knows best- like the fact that her sleeping habits are just not suited for a bed. Happy camping, my love!

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?

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.

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.

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.