Ask and ye shall receive

A couple of months ago Roy's teacher asked me to chaperone the class field trip to the circus. She asked me specifically because it is a BIG field trip fraught with lots of peril (19 kids taking a potty break at the Richmond Coliseum, eating lunch there, etc.) and my boy can be a handful :) I agreed, and then immediately began having second thoughts. Not so much about how difficult it would be, but because I have serious qualms about the circus. I LOVED the circus as a kid and I have so many great memories from our annual family outings there. I thought it was magical. Honestly, any occasion when my whole family gets together is tons of fun, no matter what the setting is. Thats how we roll :)

But as I got older I learned more and more about the ethical problems with the circus, Sea World or any other big scale venue that has trained animals. What I learned wasn't pretty. After a lot of research, Russell and I decided a couple of years ago that we just wouldn't take the kids to the circus. It just didn't feel right, and we do plenty of other family events that I don't have ethical issues with. The kids may have mentioned the circus occasionally, but never really expressed much desire to go. And we were both fine with that. Then this field trip came up and I had mixed feelings about it. Roy seemed excited to go and really excited that I would be a chaperone. I almost backed out a couple of times, but decided that he would be really disappointed if his entire class experienced this and he didn't. So I figured at least I would be there with him and afterwards we could have a discussion about my opinion on the matter. It would be a learning experience that would assuage my mommy guilt at him missing out on a childhood tradition.

As the day drew closer, I was dreading it more and more. My news feed had been filled with anti-circus articles and videos. Friends were declaring their disdain for such a spectacle. My conscience was truly bothered by my decision. At this point I felt obligated to follow through because I had made a commitment to Roy and to his teacher to help out. But I really didn't like it and I was feeling like a total hypocrite. By the way, the children had no idea of my internal struggle. I was trying to work this out for myself and not ruin it for Roy.

So then today came. I got Roy to school with our lunches packed for the excursion. I helped the teacher organize the buddy system with the students and other chaperones. Roy's partner was the only one who didn't show up. He was a bit bummed about that, but I told him I would be his buddy, so then he was cool with it. We loaded up all the kids and chaperones and teachers onto the school bus and we were off! As soon as the bus pulled away, Roy stopped smiling. I was confused, since he has been on field trips before and loves riding the bus. I couldn't get him to smile. He was looking out the window, saying goodbye to each building or landmark we passed. When I asked him why he said he was sad to be going and that he would miss these places. I explained we weren't going far, only a few miles away, it still didn't change his mood. I was so perplexed as to what was going on. When we arrived and parked, he started crying. "I don't want to go to the circus! I don't want to go! I want to go home!" I thought he might be sick, but he said he wasn't, he just didn't "feel right" about going and really wanted to go home. After a few minutes of this getting progressively more serious, I pulled the teacher aside just as we were about to walk in and told her Roy wasn't feeling well and I thought it best that we just left. Everyone was concerned, but I knew that the best thing to do was leave quickly because we were about to have a full on meltdown. And I was not about to force him to go to a show I felt uncomfortable with already.

Well, there we were stranded at the Richmond Coliseum with no car (we rode the bus) and having already paid for our tickets. Our bag lunches were packed away with another chaperone and we were freezing in the middle of a downtown street. But it was fine, because the second I told him we didn't have to go, he calmed down. When I said we would get a friend (thank you Audrey!) to come pick us up and take us to our car so we could go home, he sighed a big sigh of relief and started smiling again. He couldn't verbalize WHY exactly he didn't want to go, but he just knew he didn't. I do not have a squeamish kid. He is not nervous at new situations. He is not shy. He does not scare easily. He loves going any and everywhere. But he did not, under any circumstances, want to go to the circus. The only way he could explain it to me was this:
"Mommy, sometimes you think you want something, and then when it is really happening, you realize you don't."
Well ok then. Couldn't have said it better myself.
So we walked a few blocks to a nearby Marriott and waited in the lobby until our friend could come get us and take us to school to get our car. We went and got a new toy, had some lunch, ran some errands.

This is not meant to spark a debate over anyone's stance on the circus. It is not meant to bring on a discussion on animal rights. It's not about being a vegetarian, vegan or meat-eater.  It is simply a testament to the idea that sometimes when you have a big issue and you can't figure it out, the answer may come in the most unexpected form. It may come out of the mouths of babes. I have no idea what spoke to Roy, what thoughts were rolling around in his head to change his mind so quickly. But I do know that we teach our kids to trust their instincts and express their feelings, no matter what those feelings are. And today really showed me that my little man knows himself well and feels comfortable talking to his mommy and trusts me to value what he is saying. And I always will.

Happy 6th Stella!

Each year when we celebrate your birth, it is a joyous affirmation for me. An affirmation that I did indeed carry you inside me, nurturing your growth. I labored fast and efficiently with you, bringing you into this world on a clear crisp November day. I remember your loud cries and big eyes as if it were yesterday. I can still clearly see your father's face as he saw you for the first time. His smile lit up the world. My relief at holding you was palpable, the tension of the previous moments gone. I remember the details of your birth; how much it changed me, how it empowered me, how it put me on the path to work in the birth community.

6 years ago you made me a mama. I look at you now and I could burst with pride. I see a strong-willed, sweet, affectionate, spunky little girl. I love your passion, your tender heart, your fire. I love your artistic style, your flair. You are so much like me and yet so very much your own person. It is surreal to have you, my first baby, the walking/talking extension of myself, forging your own path. I love that curling up in mama's lap can still make everything ok.

On your special day my love, let me tell you my wishes for your life.
I wish for you to always hold on to that warrior spirit you have.
I wish for you to always be aware of your value.
I wish for you to set goals and follow through.
I wish for you to fail sometimes, so you can learn.
I wish for you to find your passion.
I wish for you to be kind and gentle until you need to be fierce.
I wish for you to know you have roots and wings.

I love you, my sweet Punky girl. Thank you for teaching me to be a mama.

Keepsakes

My family has always been one of collectors. Everyone has their own thing; plates, hippos, figurines, books. But first and foremost, we collect pictures to document our memories. We celebrate any and everything! Birthdays and Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving are all big family gatherings. Oh, its Flag Day??? Well heck, let us have a cookout!! Each year at Christmas there is an unofficial contest to see who makes my grandmother cry first with the most sentimental gift. We are criers. Happy criers, sad criers, angry criers. No shame in our game; we are a passionate, expressive family. I know no other way to be :) And I love it.

So this weekend I received some pretty awful news. A huge portion of very sentimental keepsakes and pictures from my childhood was destroyed. Baby pictures, my mother's wedding album, my deeply loved Raggedy Ann doll, books, my highchair- all destroyed. It has taken me the last 48 hours to process this information. To say that I am devastated would be a gross understatement. My bronzed baby shoes-gone. My only pictures of my deceased grandmother-gone. My mother's beloved Christmas decorations-gone. I still can't even wrap my brain around it. I imagine that most people would be really upset by this, but to have this happen to the sweet, sentimental woman who raised me is just beyond comprehension. My heart aches for her; a physical ache. Of course I am sad for the loss of those things, especially my Raggedy Ann. She was a gift from my Aunt Rhonda on the day I was born, and Aunt Rhonda passed away when I was 8.  I slept with her every day until I went away to college. I stitched her up myself as a child after my dog ripped a huge hole in her. I wanted to keep her forever. But as a mother myself now, I grieve most especially for my mother. Losing all of those keepsakes that marked my childhood has broken her heart. I can take a lot of pain, I have dealt with my share over my years. But for my mom to hurt??? Oh no, that makes me crazy. I want to rage and scream and punch and kick. Without going into details, this loss of our keepsakes was no accident; it was callous and intentional. It is like a knife in the chest. I am sad for me, but I am furious for my mother.

I know that those things were just "things". I know that we still have the memories. I know that nothing on earth is more important than my family; I would rather have time with my mother than any keepsake in the world. But this is a tough one for me to deal with. While we are super expressive and effusive with our love, I hold on to my pain. I deal with it on my own. This post is my way of trying to deal with my anger and hurt. It is also a shout out to my mom, to let her know how sorry I am that she has to deal with this. I hold my mother in the highest of regards; she is my idol and inspiration, always. I do my  best to emulate her as a person and as a mother. So hold that head up high Ma! No matter what happens, no one can take away our memories. We have been through worse. It will take me a while to deal with this, to comprehend this loss. But in the end, having her in my life is what truly matters.

7 year itch

On the eve of my 7 year anniversary I am reflecting on my life in general. And damn, it is awesome!! I cannot believe it has been 7 years since I married the man of my dreams and 9 years that he has been a part of my life. I am one lucky bitch ;)

As some of you know, this is not my first marriage. I married my college sweetheart at the tender age of 21, after dating only him through all 4 years of college. We were married for 4 years. It was not what I would call a partnership; more of a dictatorship. To be fair, I entered into this knowingly, but despite my best efforts, it only got worse. It was shocking to our friends when we split because they thought we were the "perfect" couple. Oh what goes on behind closed doors... Looking back on things and comparing it to my marriage now, all I can do is shake my head. I do NOT regret that marriage; I learned so very much from it. I believe God puts us on a path for a reason, and that part of my life was vital to who I am now.

But let me say this: my marriage is a gift from God, but it is also hard work. We work HARD to take care of one another and our children. We do not sit idly by and let problems fester. We value one another, we tell each other how much we need each other, we demonstrate our love loudly. We worship together, we worship each other, we love our kids unconditionally. We make the choice EVERY FRICKIN DAY to work hard on our relationship. I have never been more secure in a relationship with someone than I am with Russell. He is amazing on every level and I make damn sure I tell him that. He treats me like a valuable prize. He treats me like the smartest woman alive. He treats me like his equal. He treats me like I am strong. He treats me like I am beautiful. He earns my respect every day. I am madly, deeply in love with him and I still get butterflies when I see him. Am I lucky? Hells yes. Do I deserve it? Hells yes.

Thank you babe, for all that you do and all that you are.
Happy anniversary.

Reflections

From just a thought, just an idea in my mind, you grew into a tiny being inside me. I carried you, nurtured you, loved you.  I was in awe that you had been created.

On the day you were born, I grew. I grew into a mother instantaneously and knew my mission in life was to protect you. To love and to guide, to keep you grounded and give you wings.

You grew into a toddler and began venturing outside the safe harbor of my arms. You explored and learned and developed strong attitudes and opinions. I watched, terrified and thrilled.

I grew into the mother of a preschooler. A sweet, loving wild-child, who threw her whole heart into absolutely everything she tried. I would burst with pride at every accomplishment; dancing and gymnastics, writing your name. I saw pieces of me and of your father, saw the magic of the two of us creating the walking/talking embodiment of the next generation of our family.

You've grown into a Kindergartener. A school-aged child. You are branching out on your own adventures, the beginnings of your own path in life. This is the time when you will be making friends I don't know, learning things from someone other than me. I am excited and scared in equal measure. How hard this is!! How amazing you are!! I feel like I am sending my heart out into the world.

We have grown together, you and I. I have taught you many things, but you have taught me many more. You are growing up and I am growing stronger. You are growing wings and I am growing braver. You are growing your mind and I am growing prouder of you each day.

As you begin this next monumental phase of your life my daughter, please remember:
          "I'll like you forever, I'll love you for always.
           As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be."

Roy turns 4!

Holy crap, it cannot be true. My baby cannot be about to turn 4!! What?? That is officially "big boy" status. Obviously it is a bittersweet time for me. Growing up is a good thing, but it also freaks me out because I feel like time is just going faster and faster. I have been nostalgic all day, thinking of my little man and all of the stages he has gone through and will go through in the future. One of the best things about being a mom is watching your child learn new things; one of the other best things is learning about yourself. In honor of Roy's 4th, I want to list some of the things he has taught me.

1. Birth is a tandem experience.
My birth with Stella was induced, and had way more interventions than were necessary. While it was of course still beautiful and amazing and life changing, it was more like something that was happening "to me" as opposed to something I was an active participant in. It is the reason I became a doula and the reason I decided to have a natural birth with Roy. Roy's birth was not only natural, it was very clear that he and I were working together to get him out into the world. That my friends, is a game-changer in the way this mama looked at birth. Obviously it is up to each mama to decide what is right for her and her baby, but when people ask why on earth I would want an unmedicated birth, I immediately think of how amazing it was to truly know that my baby was doing what he was supposed to do and that we were in in together, working towards a common goal.

2. Intuition is not an old wives' tale.
I was due Sunday August 2nd. I worked until Friday July 31st, two days before my due date. People were a little freaked to see a hairstylist still on her feet at 40 weeks. I felt great!!! But I KNEW he was coming that Tuesday. I just did. I knew I would work out my schedule, have a couple days to rest, and he would be born on the 4th.  I was already dilated and effaced pretty well at my 39 week checkup, but I wasn't having contractions or any other "signs". But I knew when he was coming. I woke up at 5am that Tuesday, having good strong contractions. I let Russell sleep another hour, then woke him up and told him it was happening. I was totally calm. Intuition is no joke.

3.  I can balance WAY more than I thought I was capable of.
Two kids. Full time job. Enough said.

4.  I LOVE having a boy and a girl.

5.  Testosterone-fueled dudes still like to cuddle.
Ok, really his daddy taught me this, but still, Roy reinforces it. I have NEVER met such a "DUDE" who is soooooooo sweet and cuddly and affectionate.

There are things that I learn every day from my children. I hope that they learn as much from me as I do from them. I look forward to each and every year with them! Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go cry into my pillow because my baby isn't a baby anymore.

Count your blessings

As all parents know, kids go through phases. Sometimes they are adorable, sometimes they make you want to scream. Sometimes you have no idea how to handle them. We are currently in a phase with Roy that has had me stumped. For lack of a better term, I will refer to it as the "Mama's Boy" phase. My little man has always been super attached to me, which is awesome. He was an avid, round the clock nurser, both for comfort and for hunger :) Man, I would nurse that kid while I did everything from cooking dinner to eating dinner. Yes, COOKING dinner. But I was fortunate that I never felt "touched out" with either of my children as some moms have had to deal with. You know, that feeling of just needing to not be touched by anyone, for any reason, because you have had a little one attached to you all freaking day. But now, for the past few weeks, my little man has had me feeling a little touched out. He will kiss me about 1000 times a day, he tells me he loves me about 2000 times a day, he touches me all day long, he wants to sleep in our bed, he has made my arm sore from kissing it in the same spot all day, he will kiss my feet if he is sitting near me. Now don't get me wrong, this is a good problem to have. I do not, in any way, want to discourage him from expressing his emotions, his love, his affection. Boys in our culture are told so often to downplay emotion; they get reinforcement for being tough, not for expressing emotion. I refuse to stifle his emotions. BUT... it has entered a phase that can make me a little crazy. If he gets up before me in the morning, he doesn't want me to go for a run. He wants to run down the hall and jump in bed and snuggle. Great, but I have to, want to, need to go for my morning run. So then I have to deal with a meltdown. We have tried to explain that everyone has "a bubble" of personal space, but I don't think he cares :) He does not accept Daddy snuggles as a substitute. He does not want to play in his room. He wants Mommy.
So this morning, after he freaked out, I asked him if he could tell me WHY he was so upset about me going for a run. He said he didn't want to be left behind. Wow. Is that what he has been worried about??? He is so mature and verbal for his age that I sometimes forget that he is only 3 (almost 4!). All I had to to was ask him and he did a really good job of explaining how he was feeling. I calmly told him that I would be back soon, that I would ALWAYS come back, and that I wasn't leaving him, just leaving the house for a little bit. He totally accepted it.
I went for my run, and as I often do, focused on the issue that had been bothering me. I pour myself into my running, body mind and soul. And I came back with such a clear head, such a better understanding of my little one and how to handle this issue. I realized how fortunate I am, how fortunate WE are, to have such a sweet, loving soul as our son. I realized (like I didn't already know!) how truly blessed I am. There are so many people who would love to have the opportunity to hold a child of their own, so many people who would love to have so much love in their lives. I just needed a change of perspective. I needed to count my blessings, and you'd better believe my kids are at the top of the list.