All the cool kids are doing it

As (mostly) mature adults, parents have usually come to terms with who they are, where their interests lie and in general what their personalities are. One of our biggest jobs is helping our kids figure out who they are; encouraging them to explore new things, supporting their own distinct selves, discover what makes them happy. But we all have our own prejudices that we can't help but pass on to our kids, opinions about things that aren't really important but that we have decided to take a stand on. Things that determine whether you are "that kind" of person or "this kind" of person. For example, I totally detest Crocs. I hate those things. I see kids where them all the time, I hear parents extol the comfortability factor, the ease factor- yadda yadda yadda. I get it. But there is no way in hell I am letting my kids wear those ugly things. We are not "crocs people". Silly?? Totally. But there it is, and I am NOT backing down from it. Russell and I have our own biased ideas and rules: no KidzBop music, no Power Rangers, no stickers allowed on windows, no McDonalds, no saying the words "butt" (its a booty) or "shut up",  I don't think its funny for kids to curse. All parents have defined what kind of people they are and where they draw the line about all kinds of things. And I am not referring to important issues like religion or morality or spirituality. I'm talking about the day to day crap that our kids are exposed to every day; you know, game changers like fashion and music ;)

Along these lines is a concept that has really been bothering me, something that I am trying really hard not to fall victim to in spite of my above-mentioned prejudices. I see a lot of parents who seem to be overly concerned about their kids being "cool". I don't mean cool like popular in school, I mean cool like the parents want to have little mini versions of themselves. Say if mom and dad are old school punk rockers, they want little mini punk rockers. Comic book geeks only want their kids to be into superheroes, techies want kids who are way into design and technology, jocks want star athletes etc. Of course our kids will be influenced by what Russell and I like, but I don't want them to feel like our interests have to be their interests. As much as I may be annoyed by some kid shows, I LOVE that they want to watch them because it means they are still little kids. I want them to hang onto that sweet innocence as long as possible. I want them to think Dora and Diego are cool and believe that the Wonder Pets can really fly in the Fly Boat. In short, I don't want them to grow up too quickly. I don't want them to become jaded or judgemental or too worldly before they have to. So while I won't pretend that I am not thrilled when they ask to watch Star Wars and that they know all of the Marvel comics villains, I don't want to push them out of that precious innocence of childhood too quickly all for the sake of relinquishing "baby" things that aren't cool.

As my kids will both be starting school this fall (kindergarten and pre-k) I am forced to accept that they are growing up. They will be making their own choices more and more, they will be defining themselves more, they will be exposed to so many new people and ideas. And that is great! I am happy about that. But of course I worry about issues like peer pressure and bullies and other unsavory influences. Not much I can do about all the yucky people they will encounter throughout their lives; the only thing we can do is give them the best foundation that we possibly can and continue to support them as they discover themselves.

Every moment is not precious

It is a refrain parents of young kids hear all the time: "Treasure every moment! It goes by so fast!"  "They will only be young once, enjoy each and every moment!" And part of that is totally true; it does go by so fast. They do grow up so quickly you almost can't keep up. You blink and they have morphed into a new being. But part of that sentiment strikes me as utterly false. You don't HAVE to treasure every moment. And it doesn't make you a bad parent if there are moments you would rather hadn't happened, moments that you would rather sweep under the rug, moments that you are all too happy to forget.

Parenting is hard. Mind-numbingly, bone-wearying exhaustingly hard. Not always, mind you. Sometimes it is the most joyous, easy going lovely thing I have ever done. Those moments when Stella brings me wildflowers she has picked or when Roy just wants to kiss me over and over are the moments I live for. There is absolutely nothing like it and nothing in my life has ever been as satisfying and rewarding until I became a mommy. Not that my life wasn't good before, but mommyhood brought things to a new level of awesome.

But there are times...

Times when my patience can be pushed to new limits. Times when I just need a break. Times when I say things I wish I hadn't said. Times when no amount of gentle discipline can tame the savage preschooler. Times when I have worked all day at my job, worked all evening at home and all I want is an easy bedtime. Times when I have dealt with one tantrum too many. Times when I am so tired of repeating the same rules day in and day out. Times when mommy isn't her best and the kids aren't either.

Don't get me wrong; those times are the exception rather than the rule. I wrote before about how I have made the choice not to spank my kids and I stick by that rule. But that doesn't mean I don't lose my temper and flip out sometimes. And those times are the ones I will not treasure. Those times when I watch my beautiful children turn into crazy people. Those times when my daughter says I don't like her anymore because I punished her or when my son tells me to shut up. The times when I have to follow through on taking away a privilege because my kids didn't follow the rules. The times when I agonize over every decision, convinced that I am ruining my children. The times I cry myself to sleep because I am worried that I hurt my baby's feelings. Those times I will not treasure.

I will never forget holding my babies, watching them breathe, feeling their soft soft skin. I will never forget their births, their birthdays, their birthday cakes, their birthday wishes. I will always remember their innocence and sweetness. I will forever love memories that we make together, but I will not beat myself up over the fact that it isn't all rainbows and lollipops. I work extremely hard to raise my children to be self-sufficient, independent,  conscientious, courteous and kind. That doesn't come without its' fair share of bumps and bruises along the way. So don't feel bad if, like me, you need to vent every once in a while. If you need time away, time alone. Just because you don't treasure EVERY moment doesn't mean you don't absolutely adore all the good ones. After all, parenting is only hard if you're doing it right.

Hard-workin' man

I am blessed to have one of those husbands who can fix anything. He is super mechanically inclined, tech-savvy and can teach himself how to do any type of project that he is interested in. Several years ago he completely re-did our kitchen- and I mean completely. He ripped out everything down to the beams in the floor (yep, we could look directly into our basement from the kitchen), cut a hole in the wall to add a bar, closed up the old door, put in french doors, MADE concrete countertops, rebuilt the floor with slate tiles...you get the idea. That kitchen is amazing. The most amazing thing is that he had not done any of those projects before. Ever. He taught himself how to do all of it and if you have seen my kitchen, you know that shit is tight, yo! He is an appliance repair tech by trade and has been with the same company for about 8 years now and has a very loyal client following. He has also always done work on the side for friends, and built up a reputation among local restaurants and salons as the go -to guy for their appliance needs. Dude works hard.

It has been a dream of his for a long time to work for himself. Recently he got his own business started, in addition to continuing his full time job. He also has been doing appliance contract work for a friend, so he has been working THREE jobs. Starting early in the morning before his regular job and working late at night after. We haven't spent much time together because he has been so flipping busy, but I understand. I appreciate all the work that he is doing because he is doing it for us, his family. He has been working hard to put away money, build a solid clientele and lay the proper groundwork so that when he is on his own we won't have to take a financial hit while things get started. I am so in awe of his work ethic, his dedication.

He finally put in his 2 weeks notice this week. SCARY! But exciting. I know that this is this is the right move for him and for our family. I am so proud of him for making this decision and I am really happy that we will bet to see him more than a few minutes a day :) Throughout all of this he has made sure that the time he has been around has been spent snuggling and reading with the kids, encouraging me on my new projects and endeavors and basically making sure we know how much he loves us. He and I were able to get away for a quick 24 hour trip away Friday and that brief respite has recharged us both :) I love to shout that man's praises from the rooftops! Thanks babe, for all that you do.

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.