If you've read my blog, you know my mom and I are close. Really close. She had me at the age of 18, so we like to say we raised each other. There are many, many things that I have learned from her, many things for which to be grateful, but there is one in particular that has shaped me into who I am today: my love for reading. According to my mom, I was reading by the age of 4. Not just memorizing ( I was doing that too) but actually reading books by myself. I cannot remember a time in my life when I didn't have a book I was carrying around. I HAVE to have a book to read. I devour books. As does my mom. Starting when I was in elementary school, my mom and I would go to the library every 2 weeks and each check out 4 or 5 books. We would read our own books and then swap and read each other's books. Yep, 8-10 books in 2 weeks. And not "kid" books, but books that were a couple hundred pages each. We read everything. Biographies, fantasy, history, romance, mystery. She instilled a true love of the written word into my very being. I read encyclopedias and law text books when I had read everything else we had in the house. Even she who had passed on this love to me would (still does) shake her head at me and laugh about how I always had my "head stuck in a book".

Books are my friends.

I have laughed, cried, loved and died reading books. I have explored worlds, fallen in love, felt palpable hatred. I have learned so much, taken so much. I have been so terrified I put a book away for a year before I could finish it (Stephen King's "It"). I have read a book so many times that I felt as though the characters were alive (Little Women, Jacob Have I Loved). I have yearned for places that don't exist and looked in cupboards and closets for magical worlds (C.S. Lewis and Tolkien). I have prayed that I would meet real fairies. I have wept at fictional deaths. I have felt my heart race at narrow escapes. I have dreamed of meeting the hero. I have tattoos inspired by works of literature. I am a book junkie.

I thank my mother for this love, this obsession. It has shaped me. I am blessed with the gift of reading and comprehending things very quickly. VERY quickly. I don't "skim" books, I soak in every word. Books are the only thing I collect. I am a purist; no e-reader for me. I want the weight and heft of a book in hand. I want to touch the pages, hug it to my chest. I want to OWN the books I love.  I credit my mother with my ability to do well in high school, college, grad school. She taught me the love, the joy of reading, and I am passing that on to my kids. There is nothing like it. For me, it is how I escape but also how I expand, how I cope, how I process. It is me.

Thanks mom; you are the best. I will write a book for you one day.

Just one of those days

This week has been exhausting.

I was really busy at work, which is a good thing, and I truly do love it. But being on my feet all day and then doing all the stuff that needs to be done to run our household is difficult sometimes. I have also been training for a 4 miler, my first race in about 14 years. It will also be the longest distance I have EVER run, so it is totally a challenge for me. I was looking forward to a chill weekend; all we HAD to do was gymnastics class Saturday morning and church Sunday morning. Awesome! Except I forgot about my cousin's baby shower in Dinwiddie. And we really needed to go grocery shopping. And Roy had to have a haircut. Ok, no problem, I can handle all of that. And then both kids woke up Saturday morning at 6am, with so much energy I could have sworn they had been drinking coffee all night long. Ok cool, I will grab a caramel macchiato and we will be on our way!

But...

It was just one of those days. Where the kids ask 1 million questions about a movie they have seen so many times they have it memorized. Where they need an explanation for everything I ask them to do. Where the smallest request is met with resistance. One of those days that brings demands from little tyrants every 5 seconds. Where a grocery store trip makes them so excited they are bursting at the seams and ask for everything on the shelves, from honey flavored yogurt to a mini charcoal grill. And are devastated if any requests get a "no". A day in which concepts that they are quite familiar with have suddenly become foreign. A day that our normal treats (a cake pop for Stella and gummies for Roy) are not satisfying enough. When sitting through a sibling's gymnastics class is the most boredom one can possibly imagine. When reading the same book three times in a row is not enough. When coloring is torturous. When an hour long car ride to Dinwiddie feels like 3 hours because they are tired but refuse to let their eyes close. A day when little ones must yell everything, must run in circles, must ignore mommy, must be put in time out 1000 times.

I was exhausted from NOT yelling at my kids. I have made a promise to them and to me that I will not yell. I can talk sternly, I can punish, but I refuse to yell. It just stresses me out. It makes me feel terrible while I am yelling and after I'm done. It may get their attention, but all it teaches them is that mommy is a bully. Granted, I am human, so I do make mistakes and I will find myself slipping back into the habit of yelling. And then I spend the next hour feeling immense mommy guilt. Because I truly, truly want to NOT yell. I am not passing judgement on any other parent who yells; this is a deeply personal thing for me. This is a rule I have set for myself because of how I feel, of how it affects me, of how it affects my family. I feel utterly and completely ridiculous and out of control when I yell. Like a total jerk who accomplishes nothing. So, no yelling. Hence the exhaustion from explaining and reasoning and referee-ing. From normal, everyday parenting. Usually I am up for the challenge, but sometimes, sheesh!!!!

Just one of those days...

Mother's Day

I love mommy's day. I always have. As a kid, I LOVED to make gifts for my mom; she deserved so much more than I could give her and she always made me feel like it was the best gift on earth :) I am one of the lucky ones who has always had a good relationship with my mother. None of that weird jealousy I have seen with other mother/daughter relationships, none of that "I hate you" crap, even in my asshole year of 15-16.

Now that I am a mom, I finally understand my mom so much more.

I understand why she cried so hard on my first day of school.
Why she came to every school activity.
Why she gave me chores to do every day.
Why she beat the crap out of a 6ft 2inch tall MAN who insulted me (true story, I'll tell ya that one later)
Why she always made her yummy brownies for all my school parties.
Why she kept that awful bookmark I made her when I was 7.
Why she never talked poorly about my dad after he left us.
Why she let me date, but gave me an early curfew.
Why she had me fill out all of my college scholarship/financial aid applications on my own.
Why she had total, absolute faith in my abilities to achieve my goals.
Why she never said "I told you so" when I screwed up big time.
Why she had so much fun taking me and my boyfriend and our friends to see Public Enemy, MC Lite and Queen Latifah in high school.
Why she agreed to be the chaperone for Beach Week two years in a row.
Why she accepts me for who I am and has never tried to change me.
Why she sacrificed so much for me from the age of 17 on.

There is something sacred about the mother/child relationship. I hope and pray every day to be as good of a mom to my kids as my mom is to me. Thank you mom, for the inspiration and example. I love you.

Hate

I am so very blessed in my life. I am constantly surrounded by love, from family and friends. I am strong and healthy. I have a great job that I love, our house is amazing. I am reminded daily of how fortunate I am. And I completely understand that a lot of people don't have it nearly as good as I do. But for eff's sake, I am so tired of all the hate that I see daily. I am just sick and tired of it, in all it's many forms. This is a ranty post, so get ready.

Don't believe in God? Don't believe in atheists? Don't believe in abortions? Don't believe in same-sex marriage? Don't believe in gay people adopting? Don't believe in formula feeding? Don't believe in homebirths or midwives? Don't drink? Don't eat meat? You co-sleep? You sleep train? You run? You got a divorce? You have tattoos? You are a feminist? You are a Democrat/Republican? You let your kids watch tv? You don't want kids? You want 20 kids? You want an epidural? You smoke weed? You eat veal? You are in an interracial relationship? You watch porn? You don't buy organic? You eat fast food? You shop at Whole Foods? You're a feminist? So be it!!!

I am just over it. Over all of the judgemental, biased, mean-spirited hateful crap that people spout off as fact. I am done with holier than thou attitudes, done with those people who think their way is the ONLY way. Done. I have never been one to bite my tongue, but now the gloves are even more off. I am trying really hard to teach my kids love and tolerance and patience and consideration and put-yourself-in-their-shoes. And along with that comes removing themselves from hateful people and situations. So if you suddenly find that I am just not communicating with you anymore, you can probably guess that I just made the decision to cut out some negativity in my life. No offense meant; I can't control how you feel about things, nor will I try. But I can control who I surround myself with. I cannot control who or what my children will encounter in their lives, but I can help them learn to deal with it in a constructive manner. If something doesn't work in your life, you move on. And I have too much that is good in my life to willingly let negative in.

New chapter

My mom pointed out to me years ago that I tend to take on a lot of major changes at once. Apparently I've done that my whole life and never realized it until she told me. Boy is she right! When she gently pointed this fact out to me, I was graduating from undergrad, planning my (first) wedding, moving to a new state and starting grad school all within a 3 month period. Shew, stressful time! But I did it. Minus a few layers of skin on my legs from my nervous stress habit of scratching the heck out of them, but I did it. Since then, the pattern hasn't changed but my ability to adjust to it has :) I actually function better with a lot on my plate; otherwise I can be a real slacker :)
Our family, like so many others I know, always seems to have a lot going on. The balance of two parents who work outside the home at both a primary (appliance repair and hair stylist) and secondary (new self-owned appliance repair and doula) job, two kids about to start school, two dogs, lots of hobbies and a home we are getting ready to sell can be challenging to say the least. Yet neither my hubby or myself can turn down exciting opportunities that we get; he is now in the Presidency of the Young Men's group at our church which is a BIG responsibility and I am super proud of him.
I am really excited for this new chapter in our lives. I am about to become the mother of 2 kids in elementary school, which means changing my work schedule a bit. I am really happy but slightly apprehensive about that! We have worked hard at making our house a home and I truly love it, but we are outgrowing it and it is time to move on. Bittersweet feelings on that one. I am always looking for new ways to involve myself in the local birth community and Russell is doing a great job at starting his own independent business. Money is tight these days as we are making sacrifices to get us to the next step in our family's life, so I feel like budget issues are making me a little nuts :) We need to be able to sell our home for the right amount to pay off the current mortgage, so while I am anxious to not be in limbo, the timing has to be just right before we can list it. That stressed me out a bit at first, but after processing the info, I'm feeling really blessed that we have the option to wait until it is right.
All in all, our life is so freaking good. I have an amazing family, a strong support system of friends and loved ones and we are always being reminded of how blessed we are. We don't always know what cards we will be dealt, but I'm happy and optimistic about playing that hand :)

Body Issues

We all have them. Every woman I know has something about her physical appearance that bugs her. For many reasons women tend to be critical of our bodies. Mine didn't start until college. I was always playing sports before then and was pretty confident about my physicality. That changed when I met my college boyfriend and future starter-husband. The short version of that story is that he was controlling. The long story is that it was this insidious critiquing that built into a full-blown domineering presence in my life. I didn't realize it until it was too late and I was IN LOVE and engaged. At 5'8" I weighed 130 lbs and was told I was fat. I BELIEVED I was fat. I worked out 6 days a week, weight lifting, running, mountain biking and rock climbing. It was never enough, I was never in the shape that I (he) wanted me to be in. I never let my thighs actually rest on a chair because it made them look bigger. I wouldn't order what I wanted in a restaurant because I would get the "are you sure you want to eat that?" look. To be fair to my mom, she tried to warn me!!! But you know how it is when you're in love with an asshole...you don't know he's an asshole. We were married for 4 years and when I finally broke free, I boycotted the gym :) And I ate whatever the hell I wanted! I've never felt like I was fat, but of course my body changed and it is never going to be in that shape again. Nor do I want it to be. I am happy with my curves, I love food and I have a wonderful man who thinks I am the sexiest most beautiful woman on earth.
Having children changes you body in so many ways. My shape is different now and I am still coming to terms with it. I've lost all the baby weight from the twins, which is amazing, but I still had weight from my previous pregnancies that I need to get rid of. It isn't so much about what the scale says, but more about how I feel. There are still remnants of that old me, that old insecurity that pop up when I'm having a bad day. But for the most part I have made a conscious decision to celebrate my body. It has done miraculous things. It is beautiful and strong and yes, a little softer in some places than I want. In the grand scheme of things however, my struggles don't define me. When I'm feeling down or having a "fat" day, I look in the mirror, deep into my own eyes and try to find my strength. I'm thankful that I am surrounded by love and not criticism.

separation anxiety

I don't ever want to be a helicopter mom. I am very invested in making sure my kids develop into strong, independent individuals. I think it is really important for them to figure things out on their own, learn at their own pace, find out what motivates them and go for it. I see parents all the time who must feel differently; they hover over their kids and micro-manage each and every move that their children make. I'm pretty sure that 6 year old can navigate the slide on his own. If your daughter gets sand in her shoes or mud in her hair, it is not the end of the world. If your kid breaks a rule and has to deal with a natural consequence, so be it; lesson learned.
All that being said, this mommy is learning that we each have our breaking points. We each have those little things that bug the crap out of us and we have a hard time letting go of. I am learning what mine are as my children are branching out into different activities. So far we have tried soccer, gymnastics and now swim lessons. We have been lucky to have had awesome coaches and teachers so far, who have set boundaries about how much the parents can interfere. This is a lovely concept: teachers teach my kids new things, I watch without undermining the teacher's authority. Of course, we have set our own ground rules with the kids before each class starts. If they repeatedly disobey the teacher after two warnings they are removed from class for the day. I have taken my children home in the middle of soccer class because they deliberately disobeyed our ground rules. Boy did they fuss and cry-but I only had to do it once. Lesson learned. At the same time, I understand that they are 5 and 3, so they aren't going to be perfect, nor do I punish them for being kids. Usually the teacher or coach has things under control, and I really want them to learn to be respectful of those authority figures and to follow the rules on their own. I won't be able to be with them when they are at school, so I need them to learn to listen to those in charge.
Last week at their first swim class, I was ridiculously proud of them. They are in different classes, but in the pool at the same time so I can watch both of them. Parents are not allowed in the pool area so that kids don't get distracted (brilliant! sorry helicopter mom, sit down and watch please!). I was almost in tears watching them follow directions the first time and even willingly do things I had been trying for a while to get them to try. Awesome!!! I was beaming with pride when I lined up with the other parents at the end of class to get them. The instructor gives a little report on every child's progress to each parent, and both kids got really good reports- Roy even got a hard earned ribbon for floating on his back (big deal at his age!). And then...Stella's instructor suggested that extra classes would be helpful for her holding her breath under water, but if not, no big deal, she did a fantastic job. Aaaaaaaand enter crazy worried mom mode: is she ok? i thought she did great! do we need extra classes?? Thankfully all of this was internal dialog. And thankfully my husband can talk me off the ledge. Really?? Was I really worried about this? Come on Chas, you have an amazing daughter who just made you so proud you were almost in tears! It was her first class! Absolutely no need to freak out. Count your blessings girl; if this is your biggest concern with your daughter, then life is good. I know so many families that have REAL issues and challenges; being a pro at proper breathing techniques is not something to worry about. But I couldn't help it, I did have those fleeting moments of real concern. Ahhhhhh, mommy guilt. My point is, we all have our "helicopter" moments; the key is to reign it in and put things in perspective. I am supremely blessed that we can even afford swim lessons and extra activities for the kids- I am not going to sabatoge the fun by being a freak :) And on that note, it is time to pack their bags for swim class...I'll leave MY baggage at home.