Rock House Happenings

Stretched

2012-02-10T08:52:00.001-05:00

I've definitely been feeling the pull of three kids this week. Monday afternoon was one of the most challenging afternoons in while due to a very clingy baby and the boys with their mounds of homework. I couldn't sit with them at the table without holding Rowan. I couldn't hold Rowan at the table because she kept trying to eat their papers. I couldn't stand by the table holding Rowan because she kept trying to launch herself onto the table from a few feet above. I lost my patience multiple times. With the boys, with Rowan, and with myself. There was no amount of breathing, no amount of telling myself that this is a wonderful moment that would work to focus me, to help me to be present in that moment and smile.

The pull continued as bedtime ensued. Rowan wanted to nurse for 40 minutes or more, and every time I thought she was asleep and tried to put her down, she woke up screaming. I thought of my sweet boys who were upstairs, watching TV, waiting for me to come and tuck them in. Guilt creeped in and I struggled not to feel frustrated with Rowan, struggled not to yell out, "You're not the only kid I have!" I know it isn't her fault, and I know that as she approaches the one year mark, she is starting to settle in to things so much better. But the reality is that parenting a high-needs baby is exhausting, and I never feel like I have enough of myself to go around. I gave the screaming girl to Hubby, and I went upstairs and rushed through storytime with the boys. The rushing through part weighed on my conscience for the rest of the night. Afterwards, I realized that I was not present with them, that I could only hear the screaming cries from downstairs, and that I really missed out on that special time we share. It's what my Momfulness book calls absent presence:

The state of being present in the body but not in mind or heart is called absent presense and is actually the state that most of us live in much of the time. It's as if we are walking ghosts. Our children know that we're not really there. They don't feel truly seen or heard by us. Love is a body-to-body experience; when we don't make real contact, our loved ones don't experience the fullness of love. And neither do we.

This passage perfectly describes where I was on Monday night during the boy-os' bedtime routine. I was not really there with them. I was struggling internally with my guilt, my frustrations, and I'd wager they could tell.

This is not how I want to parent them. And it isn't the reality all the time; the breathing meditation helps keep me present quite a bit. More importantly, I'm learning to forgive myself when it isn't enough, when I can't find my smile like I couldn't during homework time.

In moments like the rushed bedtime and really any interaction with them, this is another practice that I think will help. Now that the breathing meditation has started to become second nature, I'm going to add this to the mix.

Eye Contact Meditation

from Momfulness (I'm summarizing/paraphrasing. She describes it much more eloquently!)

Finding Me

2012-02-05T13:59:00.000-05:00

I've posted before about the dramatic effects having a baby has on your self-image, your entire sense of self. Lately, I have been feeling this pretty intensely. I'm not sure if my focus on being present has allowed me to recognize these feelings or if it is simply time for me to do something about it.

Since brown baby's arrival, I've been running off and on, and I love it, but I have either been too tired, too busy or too stressed about taking the time away from the family to run consistently. I have totally lacked motivation, and that is pretty foreign to me because I was at one point a workout whore (my self-titled nickname!). I have been feeling pretty nostalgic for those days lately. I was so confident and felt so good about how I looked and the clothes that I wore. I know I've done a pretty decent job in losing the baby weight, but I'm still about 15 pounds away from where I was back in those days. And about 5 pounds away from where I was right before getting pregnant.

Last week I decided it was time to get serious and really work at finding me again. I know that having a baby redefines you. And this redefinition takes time, too. I'm so incredibly happy and fulfilled by our family, and there are also some big changes coming up that really speak to my heart, too (stay tuned!). The process of redefinition is powerful, and I know that thanks to little Rowan, I am a much better mother to all of my children because I am learning to be so much more in tune to who I am, both as a mother and a person.

I'm so glad I started to reread and rework through my Momfulness book, too, because I really believe I am able to come to many of these understandings through practicing being present and being open to both what I need and what my family needs. I love that I'm taking it slowly through the book this time, rather than speed-reading through it and not really making it a practice.

But let's get back to the point of this post! I've committed to training for two triathlons this year, and I am so incredibly excited at the thought. I'm not sure where in the past four years I lost my motivation for being a "workout whore," but I'm welcoming her back with open arms. I feel like I've rediscovered a part of myself. The part that had gotten lost in the excitement of a new relationship, the frustration of a knee and foot injury, the distraction of pregnancy, and the elation and exhaustion of new motherhood is emerging again. The newness of her presence is pushing me to happily train and train hard. To run faster, bike harder. To look forward to swimming again, to feel cold water envelop me and to welcome the burn in my arms. I want to raise a banner over me that says, "Finally! Welcome back! (And please don't stay away for so long again!)"

So here's to a renewal of fitness, of health, of ME. My first event will be Breezy Point on June 3rd (which was my first tri ever) and the second will be the Patriot Sprint on September 9th. I'm also planning to do some short running races, too.

I can't wait to have my race number scrawled on my arm again!

Bargain

2012-01-27T21:41:00.001-05:00

I bargain with the clock: creep!

I bargain with the clock: speed!

I remember: love every moment. Always.

Mornings

2012-01-26T17:32:00.000-05:00

This is a tough one sometimes, isn't it?

Today the morning found me groggy, tired, and weak, still feeling the pangs of another sinus infection.

Bleary-eyed, I tumbled out of bed to the shower after a night waking every two hours because a sweet baby wanted her mama.

In the mad rush of leaving for the day, Brown Baby clung to my hip, leaving my arm burning from her weight and my heart heavy with our impending separation.

The boy-os argued over DS games, excitedly preparing for their day off of school tomorrow.

Brown Baby planked when I tried to put her in her car seat, screamed in protest to the start of our day, looked pleadingly at me as I buckled her in.

I closed her door and leaned against the car, seeking a quick moment, a quiet reprieve from so much activity so early in the morning. My breath hung stubbornly in the cold, morning air. Its persistence reminded me that to breathe, to be alive, to wake to three healthy children in the morning demanded that I love these moments of frenzied activity, to be present with them all, to know that each of these moments are wonderful, are a precious privilege.

Matters of Faith

2012-01-25T17:44:00.001-05:00

This past Sunday was Rowan's baptism. It was a wonderful day, and it signified a big change for me. I was raised a Baptist, and I even had to attend a Pentecostal church with my grandmother when I stayed with her during the summer. (Note the word had there...)

The second dunk

Truth be told, I was never quite comfortable in the Baptist church; there was always something that didn't fit with me. I took a long haitus from organized religion after I divorced, and I even explored the Buddhist faith. I had such a desperate need to change absolutely everything about myself and find an inner peace that I couldn't find at our Baptist church.

Sometimes I wonder if all my exploring makes me look indecisive and fickle, but when I am honest with myself, I know I have learned so much through my searching. I know for sure that the Baptist and definitely the Pentecostal churches are not for me. I also know that I cannot be a Buddhist, either. But what has come from all of this is a sprinkling of knowledge from each. I definitely wouldn't really understand my Momfulness practice without the time I spent learning about Buddhism. And my experiences in the Baptist and even limited experiences with the Pentecostal church has allowed me to make a very informed decision that I know without a doubt is the right one for me.

For the last few years, we have been going to Mass at Husband's church sporadically, but recently we have been making a sincere effort to attend more regularly. We have become members of the parish, and I have decided to reconcile with the Catholic Church, which means that I am attending weekly classes, so that I can take the sacraments of the Eucharist and Confirmation. Going to classes, reading the catechism, and especially going through the process of having Rowan baptized has confirmed for me that I am in the right place. The rituals, the kinesthetic and earthy feel of the Mass and the deep-rooted, historic tradition of the faith resonates with me.

Lexus left with her cousin before this picture...

Knowing that we will be bringing Rowan (and hopefully the boys) up in this faith and parish brings with it a sense of peace for me. I feel like it grounds us as a family and provides a common thread for us, and with blended families, that common thread is sometimes hard to find.

On the Mend

2012-01-18T09:45:00.001-05:00

The last several days have been challenging ones at the Rock House. Little brown baby came down with a nasty virus that included high fevers, a terrible cough, congestion, and finally an ear infection. For four nights, we were up every hour, and throughout the day, she was a sad, restless baby in need of constant snuggles and carries. Everyone is exhausted! We finally have antibiotics, and she slept much better last night.

Poor sick girl

And now, on my third day off of work, I'm sitting in the dark, in a rocking chair. My arm is asleep from her heavy, finally restful, body. We debated about whether she was ready to return to the babysitter today, and I almost got ready for work this morning. But as I listen to her even breathing and see her sweet, somewhat snotty face on my chest, and I know there is no place that I'd rather be.

The past several days have been stressful. I often returned to a breathing meditation from my Momfulness book:

This helped me to remember that although these moments have been challenging, they are still wonderful moments. In the midst of very little sleep and being thoroughly exhausted, in the midst of a sad, sick baby, I have reason to smile.

Finally on the mend

Being Responsive

2012-01-13T20:21:00.002-05:00

I've posted many times about divorce, and as much as I'd like to put all of it behind me and move on, I have two sweet boys who are and will always be impacted by the choices their father and I made. Divorce is cyclical; the three of us continually journey through varying phases, and I never find myself prepared for where their little hearts and minds will go.

The latest installment came the other night at the dinner table when out of the blue, Gage looked at me very seriously and said, "Mommy, I'm never going to get married."

I can never be sure where Gage will go next when he makes sudden announcements like this, so I asked why and waited for the rest. I never expected what came next; his mature thought process that lead to his profound statement left me breathless, heartbroken.

"Because I don't want to be like you and Daddy."

I might as well have been a puddle on the floor. My brain grasped for something to say, anything that could take away this knowing, this life experience that my little eight year old possessed. My feeble attempt to reassure him, to restore his faith in marriage fell pitifully short. He looked at me skeptically as I rambled about choosing the right person until thankfully, his attention was diverted by his brother.

I know it is clearly too early to predict doom for his future relationships due to commitment issues. But at the same time, I also realize that they will both be permanently impacted by our choices, even if they were only two and four. They are fortunate enough to see their father and I interact positively most of the time. They also see a loving and healthy marriage here at the Rock House.

Gage, at 2

Gage's comments have helped me to realize that in addition to modeling healthy relationships, I need to be talking with them about marriage and divorce more frequently and in a more complex way than I have been. I have to help them heal and understand the whys and hows of what happened, so they can learn and hopefully not repeat this experience later in their lives.

This has definitely had the potential to completely stress me out! Instead, with my momfulness practice and focus on presence, I'm learning to be less reactive and more responsive to their needs, to love all of the challenges and opportunities parenting them brings.

Privileges

2012-01-10T17:22:00.000-05:00

As I was rocking and nursing Rowan to sleep on Sunday night, I was trying to savor the moment and not fret over returning to work the next day. I have been focusing on my word, presence, and trying to keep myself grounded in the moment. I've posted about rocking before, and there is simply something almost healing about it. Everything else falls away, and it is just the two of us, our breath aligned, her sleeping body heavy on my chest.

It was in this quiet the other night, in my earnest attempt to remain present, that I reflected on the weekend. It was full and busy, but I realized that in that fullness, was happiness and joy. My first instinct is to stay home, to keep things quiet, in an attempt to stall time, but this weekend there were times that we had to be out and then times that we chose to be out. Because I've been working on presence, I was able to find the joy in each experience, rather than feeling stressed because how much time they were taking.

As I reflected on the weekend, I had a very clear and humbling sense of the privilege I've been given to be a mother to wonderful children and a wife to an amazing husband. My life is so rich because of what they add to it, and I know my focus on presence has allowed me to be more available to enjoying every second.

Affirmations

2012-01-05T09:37:00.000-05:00

Every so often, Pacey and I come to blows over homework. This time it ended with this:

He has been blessed with the gift of stubborness, something that will certainly come in handy as he grows, but for a mom, it can definitely be a challenge. He is a brilliant kid (and I'm not just saying that because I'm his mom), but that sometimes leads to total meltdowns when he has the opportunity to be wrong. I say opportunity because he definitely needs to learn that it is okay to be wrong because that is how we learn.

As a teacher, I am accustomed to helping kids. When they don't understand something, I patiently work with them. It frustrates me to no end when he immediately shuts down, refuses to listen, or starts to cry or bang his feet on the floor.

I try my best to maintain my composure because really a 10 year old having a meltdown and a 33 year old having a meltdown are not a good combination! This doesn't always work, though, and yesterday, I did have a hard time maintaining my presence and finding ways to respond to him with compassion and grace.

Until today. I am always humbled and in awe by how what we need will often show up for us right when we need it. I have recently started following a group on Facebook called Peaceful Parenting. Throughout the day, they post positive statements or thoughts about motherhood, and this morning, a link to a YouTube video that has many different positive affirmations you can use with your children. They even group them by age range. The thumbnail on their post showed this statement:

I had to stop and allow it resonate. After the drama of the afternoon's homework time, I decided that I would find a way to help him become more responsive to my guidance during homework time. I planned on setting aside time tonight to read some more in my Momfulness book, sure that I would find some guidance.

I've read about and used affirmations before. I used to carry around meaningful statements on index cards that I would read each morning or when I needed to find focus, but I have not thought about using them with my boy-os. And now that I think about, I'm not sure why I haven't. Instead of telling them to focus, to listen, to stop getting frustrated all in the heat of the moment, laying a foundation of of these things in a positive way seems like a much more effective starting point. This isn't to say that some moments will not call for me to redirect their behavior, but slowly, we can reshape their reactions, beliefs, and behaviors in a positive way. My next step is to figure out how to begin sharing these with them consistently, intentionally, and effectively.

Presence

2012-01-02T21:24:00.001-05:00

With the new year comes new hope and fresh starts. Everyone is talking resolutions, and I usually hesitate to make any because like most, I fail to follow through with them! I follow a blog called Sorta Crunchy, and each year she picks one word to focus on and guide her through the year. What a fabulous idea!

I really wanted my word to be one that seemed to find me, rather than one I decided would work best (or would be easiest!). I wanted it to be one that would impact me personally and relate in a positive way to my family. Choosing to pull the Momfulness book from the shelf a few days ago played into this perfectly. The first section is dedicated to presence:

We practice being here, now. We relax into life and stop wanting to be somewhere other than where we are. We realize that our true home is so close to us; it is in this moment; it is in the eyes of our child or in the greeting of our partner or in the hug of a dear friend. Our home is as close as our next breath.

We live in such a fast-paced world, and I find that I am always focusing on what is next. I'm most challenged by this when I am at work. Being away from Rowan is so very hard, and I live for the clock to strike 3:30. I wish away those 8 hours until I get to be back home again, and then I wish for the evening hours to slow down and creep by, so I can immerse myself in my family. I fret for the 25 minute drive to the babysitters, fret while we are getting the kids' things together, and fret for 15 minutes until we get home. I fret about the traffic, I get really annoyed at slow drivers, and I curse red lights.

This constant push and pull and consuming stress is exhausting. I am so focused with the idea of time speeding up and slowing down that I've realized I don't spend enough time living in the moment, being present. I look back on the months since I've been back at work, and they seem like a blur. And I wonder. Did I live in them enough? Or did I spend my time dreading work, rushing through traffic, mourning the end of the evening?

Is there any wonder why I feel imbalanced?

I go back to work tomorrow after 12 days off, and I plan to take it minute by minute. I know I will cry after I drop Rowan off, but I will be present with those tears, not wish them away, not only long for 4:00 when I am with her again. I know work will be very busy, so I will be busy with it, not focus only on 3:30 when I get to leave. On my ride home, I will enjoy the quiet time to myself-- time to pray, to prepare myself for the busyness of homework and the clinginess of an infant who has grown used to her mama 24/7.

As I approach 2012 with a focus on presence and Momfulness, I will work towards finding home in any moment, rather than wishing moments away. For now, I am a working mom, and I have to find a space in my heart for that home, too.

Rock House 2011 Review

2011-12-31T18:02:00.000-05:00

As the last day of 2011 begins to find its close, I find myself reflecting on our many blessings.

These memories feel like minutes ago, not months. Time speeds along while we are consumed in the stress of the days, in the emotions of the hours. And we miss the joy that we have, the sacred moments that we can find in our homes and with our families.

Life is good.

Happy New Years and enjoy some of my favorite pictures and days from 2011!

It's 2012 already?!

Momfulness

2011-12-30T19:03:00.003-05:00

You have to find a mother inside yourself,

We all do. Even if we already have a mother,

we still have to find this part of ourselves inside.

Sue Monk Kidd, The Secret Life of Bees

A few years ago, when I was in the thick of single motherhood, I found a wonderful book-- Momfulness- Mothering with Compassion, Wisdom, and Grace by Denise Roy. What I loved about this book when I first devoured it was its focus on forgiveness and acceptance for mothering right where you are and the encouragement to suspend judgment of yourself as a mother. Finding compassion, wisdom, and grace in the midst of the craziness of parenthood is not an easy task. She offers a practical spiritual practice that can easily fit within any religious practice. I pulled this book out today, so I can revisit it as I work to regain balance. Organizing the physical space in which we live is only part of a very important process I know is necessary for our family to function smoothly. I know that my job as a mother is to keep compassion, wisdom, and grace as the driving forces in my interactions with everyone in our house. I've posted in the past that since Rowan's arrival, balance has been quite elusive, and I know that creates situations where Momfulness is key.

Throughout my pregnancy with Rowan, Hubs and I frequently talked about the changes that bringing a baby into our lives would create. The other kids had become quite self-sufficient, and we knew that the adjustment would come with growing pains. Despite having that awareness, I was not prepared for just how hard it would be. I had grown quite accustomed to life with my boy-os and having time to do fun things with them, to take them places, to just spend one-on-one time with them. All of that went out of the window with Rowan's arrival. She is a true high needs baby, and an HNB (as we affectionately call her) in the family precludes many activities. Even walking to the crosswalk to walk home with the boys when she was a newborn was a monumental task! I feel like I've lost so much time with my boys, and luckily they are awesome kids. They haven't been jealous of her, and they have been so very flexible with the adjustments we've had to make.

Though Rowan is still very much an HNB, at nine months, she is finally starting to settle into life outside the womb. As long as I'm within a few feet of her, she will happily play. And probably the biggest accomplishment is she is finally napping consistently and for more than 20 minutes at a time. This major milestone is wonderful because I am focusing on finding balance in the time I spend with them. It is easy to judge myself for feeling like I have faltered in my parenting of them. This is coming on the heels of both of them being very attached to their dad, and sometimes I can't help but take it personally. In rereading the first chapter today, I realize that I have to be gentle with myself and acknowledge that I have done my best. But I also come away with the awareness that I can focus on finding compassion, wisdom, and grace in all of my experiences with them.

During Rowan's naptime today and yesterday, the boy-os and I played with one of their Christmas presents. We mixed plaster, filled molds, and painted the dinosaurs.

They are so gratifying and easy to please. And pretty cute, too!

My favorite quote from today's chapter:

In practicing Momfulness, we cultivate compassion, not only for others but also for ourselves. We increase our ability to see our own suffering-- how tired we are, how hard we are working, how much we don't know. We develop the capacity to forgive ourselves, and to give ourselves some of what we need. Our hearts open, and we make friends with even the most difficult experiences of our lives.

This is such a very powerful passage and several parts almost move me to tears. I am making a promise to myself to focus on these three things.

Forgiveness: How great would it be if, as mothers (or simply people) we could forgive ourselves?

How much we don't know: Even as a third-time mom, it is hard to admit that I don't know all of the right answers.

What we (I as a mom) need: I need to exist as my own person, too, not just as "Mom." In order to be the best mom I can be, I must take care of myself. I'm working on this one, too, in my focus on regaining balance.

I'm excited about this journey!

That's all for today!

Catching Up

2011-10-13T10:26:00.001-04:00

Overwhelmed. That's really a very mild description of how I feel most of the time. Close to drowning? That is probably a bit more accurate. Having been back to work for over four months, I was hoping that I would feel more together, more composed, more organized. Yet all of that has proven to be so elusive. Every day feels like a race and before the race is even over, I'm having to prep for the next day's leg. It's exhausting on its own. Add in Rowan, who still doesn't sleep for more than two or three hours at a time, and I'm on the edge of sanity most days.

In the early days with Brown Baby, I posted about identity. Towards the end of those idyllic days at home with her, I had started to find myself again, etched out in a faint pencil drawing, but it was there. Quite visible. Going back to work has changed that picture, erased some lines here and there, and I'm struggling to find balance and endurance.

Which is exactly why it is now the end of December, I started this post in October, and the last post I published was in June. It frustrates me that I can't be consistent with my blog or with anything right now, so I've taken this valuable Christmas break to regroup and catch up.

What I've learned about myself is that I definitely feel better when things are organized. The problem is that it has been really hard to get organized when adding Rowan to the mix of the morning and evening rush. So I started organizing our home office and taking over the desk to make my own command center. My Mac has found a new home, and that definitely makes me happy! It is still a work in progress, but it includes a family binder where I've created sections for anything we would need during the course of a week. One of the biggest changes we've made recently is deciding a month or so ago to create and stick to a weekly meal plan. What a huge difference that makes in the evening to already know what dinner will be. It is simple things like this that I know are important to our family running more smoothly.

The boy-os and I talked about the new year today, and they did some reflecting on their past year and even thought a little about the year ahead using this great printable I found online. I really miss having the energy and time to focus on things like this with them. I really want to find a better way to balance my time, and we have been blessed with what we affectionately call our HNB (high needs baby). Rowan demands so much from us all of the time, and while I don't typically make resolutions, I will be focusing on finding ways to better balance all of the demands a mom finds placed upon her. The boys were very sincere about their reflections. And really cute, too! It warmed my heart to see that Pacey said the hardest lesson he learned was never to steal. (Another post for another day!)

On the HNB front, she got her first taste of a Christmas cookie today. To say that I am in love with this girl is an understatement. Despite her being the most demanding of the three babies I've had, we are so very blessed to have her in our lives. She is a continual source of joy and a constant reminder that life is good. How could it not be with a face like this?

Early Moments

2011-06-08T09:47:00.000-04:00

I take so many pictures of you because I want to remember, want to hold onto these brief, early moments.

Your sweet, quiet sleep. Usually on me.

Easy mornings, just us. Rendering me couch-bound, I savor the stillness and our time together. Knowing that all too soon creeping time will steal this away and memories of you right now will slowly fade.

Because I know you are my last. The right decision? Yes, I think so, but one that easily brings a stirring of heartache.

Link up with Semi-Wordless Wednesdays!

Rocking

2011-06-04T21:24:00.000-04:00

http://www.flickr.com/photos/gjkindelmann/100637791/

I've spent hours rocking. Hours swaying with a limp, slightly sweaty baby on my shoulder. Hours given way to pure commune with the little miracle I helped create.

Rocking Pacey. Crying silent, painful tears into his sleeping ear. Telling him he was all that mattered. Because in those desperate moments, he was.

Rocking Gage. Feeling very small and lonely in our little beach house that wrapped us in a cocoon, that caught me as I fell.

There's a different kind of sadness now. A wistfulness, an already intense nostalgia at what will be finished all too quickly.

So I rock a little longer, hold this baby a little tighter, and linger next to her sweet breath.

Joy

2011-06-03T12:34:00.000-04:00

Toothless smiles during midnight diaper changes.
Two sweaty hugs after school's out.
Teenage stories filled with drama, angst.
A partner in life, for life.
Knowing second chances are still real.

Link up with Six Word Fridays and Making Things Up!

Kept

2011-05-27T10:31:00.000-04:00

I'm joining in on Six Word Fridays with Making Things Up!

This week's topic? Kept

Kept nursing, even though I cried.
Kept nursing, even though no sleep.
Kept nursing, even through the pain.
Kept nursing; you grew and grew.
Kept nursing; loved seeing your smiles.
Kept nursing; it's best. (for us)

Cute Baby Chronicles

2011-05-26T17:02:00.002-04:00

I thought this would be a cute way to keep track of cute things Rowan does. You know, because she's cute and such. So I'll call it the Cute Baby Chronicles.

Finding the Buoy

2011-05-25T13:39:00.000-04:00

The swim leg of a triathlon was always the most challenging-- both physically and mentally. Finding your stride amidst kicking legs, trying to find the buoys past the endless sea of swim caps, not being intimidated by seeing the course laid out entirely before you. Confidence has always been a fleeting companion of mine; I've often (longingly so) wanted to be a girl who exudes confidence and an outgoing personality. Several years ago, freshly divorced and completely scattered, confidence was elusive. And quite by accident, something saved me. Training for triathlons was more than just a physical endeavor, I was emotionally and mentally challenged: to believe in myself, to push through pain and discouragement. The journey from having to hold my nose underwater, to swimming more than a half mile in open water required patience and courage. During this tumultuous time in my life, I found a strength I didn't know I had, and it drove me. On the other side, I found myself more confident, more courageous, and more proud than I had ever been before.

Here I am in September 2007 at the Sandman Triathlon:

Here I am in May 2008. I was the fittest I've ever been:

I look longingly at pictures like these.

And now, here I am. My life is much different now-- I have a wonderful husband and a wonderful new family. I have a beautiful, newborn daughter who delights me to no end. But what is sometimes lost during pregnancy and the months that follow is a sense of self. Pregnancy is preoccupying. Consuming. I told Husband recently, I miss me. I miss who I was. And right now, I'm frustrated with having to work so hard again at getting me back.

Admittedly, this wasn't an overnight change nor was it a nine month change, either. The total life altering experience of a new baby simply enhances it, makes it more palpable. And now, after nine months of pregnancy, I feel sluggish. I feel frustrated with having to lose baby weight. Again. Especially stubborn, I'm in my thirties and breastfeeding baby weight. The confidence that I worked so hard to grasp has dwindled-- I see the swim course before me, and sometimes it feels overwhelming. Despite the fact that I know confidence isn't only found in physical qualities-- whether it's the size of clothes or the speed of a 5k-- I feel like the person I was is lost and in her place is someone who can barely run a mile and doesn't have time to fix her hair. Sometimes I can't find the buoy amidst the swim caps.

And I know feeling all of this is completely normal. I wouldn't trade anything I have now to escape it.

So where does it leave me? Once again, on a quest to drop weight. Once again, on a quest to run for ten minutes without having to stop to breathe and recover. Once again, on a quest to remember that the dust will settle, and I will feel normal again. I can draw on the strength I found in training and remember to breathe and calmly find the buoy. To see that life has already begun to groove with this new brown baby of ours. We are all finding our stride, and through patience and perseverance, a new me will emerge, strong and confident. Especially with the help of my little running partner.

Sunday Jam

2011-05-23T11:26:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was a busy day at the Rock House. Because the boys and I were super berry pickers, I now had about 13 pounds of strawberries to deal with before they went bad. Luckily, last summer I got brave and tried canning strawberry jam for the first time. My grandma always used to have some kind of homemade jam, and I missed it. Store bought just isn't the same, so I gave it a shot, and it ended up being so easy. And it didn't really take that long. Well. Let's remember that last year, I only canned about 4 pints at a time. Turns out that 13 pounds of berries will make quite a bit more jam than 4 pints. Let's try three hours of kitchen duty. Not something I usually find enjoyable.

Luckily, brown baby loves to sleep in her Beco Butterfly:

And the boys were busy being gardeners in the front yard:

Pacey was on landscaping brick removal duty-- $ .25 per ugly, red brick-- and he knows how to capitalize. He made close to $30. And is quite proud because he figured out that over the weekend, he lifted half of a ton. Something I'm sure will be a hot topic at the lunch table today.

Gage joined in on the brick removing fun, too, but gave up (not surprised, are we?) after only $7 and went to a much more creative endeavor.

I had fun mashing berries in the kitchen. I turned Pandora radio to the Matchbox 20 station and pounded away. Pounded and smashed, pounded and smashed... I'm thinking there may have been some pent up frustration going on here. It was way too much fun.

All of that smashing resulted in 15 cups of berries (thank goodness I got my grandma's huge canning pot) that needed 21 cups of sugar added to it. Yes, 21 cups of sugar. Who knew jam required that much sugar? Which is exactly why it's so good, but I'm not sure it can be considered a fruit after all that.

Now those who know me know that I am not so much a cook of any kind. I burn things. I mix up steps. The fact that the recipe is written for 5 cups of berries and 7 cups of sugar, and I had to triple it left me stressed. I was convinced that somewhere my tripling calculations would be off and the jam would be ruined. Husband always tells me not to do public math. Kitchen math is equally as dangerous.

Boiling the canning jars makes me feel like something of a chemist.

So does simmering the lids... The fact that I had three pots actively going on the stove is not lost on me. I actually didn't burn or overflow anything.

The result: 15 pints of delicious strawberry jam!

It was a great Sunday, and I love that I connect with my past by doing things like canning jam. I love sharing these kinds of traditions with my family and creating something that everyone at the Rock House loves.

How do you stay connected with your past?

Strawberries, Old Times, and New Challenges

2011-05-22T09:24:00.000-04:00

A good friend and I took the boyos strawberry picking today while brown baby hung out with her daddy. (I use the term 'hung out' loosely because the report is she cried a lot while we were gone.) Baby Diva strikes again!

It did me good to get out with just my boys. I haven't been able to do something with just them since before she was born, and lately I've felt like I can't really given enough of myself to anyone. Maybe that's not accurate. I have to give so much of myself to brown baby that I feel like there is nothing left to give to others. And after having nine years with the boys to myself, it feels off to have spent so little time with them other than doing homework, which is more akin to torture in my book. And probably theirs too.

It was nice to enjoy the boys through the lens of fun. Rather than constantly shushing them (because let's face it, they don't know how to be quiet), we spoke freely and laughed loudly. We pointed out mutant strawberries and oohed and aahed over the perfectly shaped ones. I had time to focus on just them instead of dealing with the noise they make or listening to their endless retellings of the latest cartoon they watched.

I realized that I have to make time like this with them even though it is hard right now. Because I know they are growing fast, and for a moment, they seemed a little smaller in the vast expanse of red berries. They forgot to fight with each other and forgot how to exercise their obnoxious elementary school senses of humor. I miss moments like these.

The challenges that come with a new baby are something you can anticipate, but never fully understand until immersed in dirty diapers and sleep deprivation. And despite having done this twice before, I still wasn't ready for how it would change this time. Being stretched very thin with brown baby is a normal thing. Feeling overwhelmed with the lack of structure is definitely taking its toll, but spending time and checking in with my boys and enjoying them, just them, is crucial to my happiness.

Falling Down

2011-05-20T20:28:00.002-04:00

Pacey crashed on his bike for the first time today--

A rite of passage we all experience.

I helped him hobble home, doctored his scrapes, and gave him love.

Gage, the ever-thoughtful observer (and hesitant bike-rider), looked at me and said,

"Mommy, I knew two wheels were a bad idea."

The Newest Rock House Member

2011-05-19T13:13:00.001-04:00

I've been meaning to get to this post for oh let's see... 9 weeks? It's amazing how time flies when you are not sleeping, have a baby attached to your boob, and love every second of it!

Here's Rowan Ella-Grey! Aka Rowboat. Aka Babas. Aka the newest love of my life.

To say that it's been an adjustment going from two relatively low-maintenance boys (forget about the constant refereeing for a minute) to a completely helpless newborn is a slight understatement. It's been more like culture shock-- an expected culture shock, but still. Still. Oh, how I'd grown to love my sleep in the years since the boys were babies. Those precious 9 hours a night of uninterrupted sleep. Now? I'm glad for 3 at a time. In fact, I celebrate it.

Big changes have been going on here at the Rock House. Some we knew to expect. Some we have had to adjust to as they come along. But what we know for sure is that we wouldn't change a thing. This little brown baby of ours has brought so much love and so much joy to the Rock House! Okay, and maybe a little screaming, too. She has earned the reputation of being a baby diva after all.

I'm going to be more faithful to my blog (yes, I know you've heard that before, but I mean it this time!) and continue to chronical our life at the Rock House. Because when you have a 17, 9, and 7 year old and 9 week old, there will always be something to write about!

Growing Up

2011-05-19T12:58:00.002-04:00

Recent milestones:

1. Gage called me “mom” instead of “mommy” for the first time.

2. Pacey learned to make armpit farts.

Both make me want to cry.

Inside the Third Grade Lunch Table

2011-05-19T12:58:00.000-04:00

I’ve been lamenting (whining?) for the past year or so over the changes I’ve noticed in Pacey. He’s suddenly gone from this cute little preschool/kindergarten boy to an elementary school boy. I’m not so sure what I think of elementary school boys yet. And lately, he has been driving me insane every time we are in the car, flexing his sense of humor and trying to get his brother to be the butt of all of his jokes. Where on earth is all of this coming from, I’ve wondered? I have suspected that school is the answer, and yesterday, my suspicions were confirmed. The downfall of our cute preschool/kindergarten students is directly related to the lunch table. Oh yes, it’s a very serious situation, and I was lucky (or unlucky) enough to witness it firsthand.

I was given a very secret invitation by Pacey to be a part of his lunch time yesterday, and while I was there, here is a slightly abridged transcript of the brief 25 minutes…

1. Pacey tapped me and said, “You’ve got the cheese touch.” Luckily a nice little girl told me to pass it to her (such a martyr), and she passed the dreaded cheese touch down the table.

2. But then this nice little girl reached over and tapped Pacey and said, “You’ve got the girl touch. Now you’re a girl permanently because you didn’t pass it on in ten seconds.”

3. Pacey holds up Spock’s live long and prosper hand sign and says, “Uh-uh, I have the ultimate protection.”

4. Pacey then says, “Spell the word ‘ip,’ Mommy.”

5. I sighed and told him I wasn’t going to fall for that one. To which he replied, “Okay, spell Mississippi.”

6. Then his friend says, “You are smart. Spell it.” Pacey had obviously heard this one before because he quickly spelled the word ‘it’ (I would have failed because in my head I was already spelling out y-o-u…) and moved on to attempting to get people to stare at a spot for more than 5 seconds. Any spot. And if you stare at it for more than 5 seconds, you lose.

I lost.

I couldn’t hang with the third grade lunch table.

Dreams

2011-05-19T12:55:00.000-04:00

You know you are pregnant when you spent all of last night dreaming about diapers. I’m obviously preoccupied with the idea of cloth diapering. Even though I’ve read tons of blogs, watched tons of You Tube videos, and researched lots and lots of options… I am still slightly stressed about how it will work in reality. I keep telling myself if my mom did this with folded cloths and diaper pins, I can certainly do it with the way things are now:

Despite the dreams from last night where we were doing cloth diapering all wrong, I am excited that we decided to give it a try. Not only is it better for the environment, it is so much less expensive. And could these things be any cuter? I am really happy about the brand and kind of cloth diapers we chose. (I say “we,” but really, I made all of these decisions. Luckily, Husband has been very agreeable and willing to give this a try.) I decided to go with Best Bottom Diapers. They are known as “all-in-two” diapers, which means that there is an outer shell and an insert. With each change, you replace the insert, but not necessarily the shell, which has leg gussets to keep the baby dry and clean.

I mean, really, how hard can it be? Other than washing every two days, it sounds fairly similar to disposable diapers. They even make this awesome adapter you attach to the plumbing parts of your toilet, so you can easily rinse the yucky inserts out right into the toilet. And supposedly, you don’t need a plumber to attach it!

I will keep updating about our cloth diapering journey after baby girl gets here. It should definitely be interesting

Conflicting

2011-05-19T12:53:00.000-04:00

In one of my favorite movies, Look Who’s Talking (don’t judge), the main character makes this remark: “You don’t know how confusing it is when someone you love so much looks like someone you hate.” I remember thinking how hard that must be. But Gage is his father’s clone, and that doesn’t bother me too much because it’s just Gage and how he looks. What has been really, really hard to take, especially recently, is that both boys have been acting and sounding exactly like their dad in ways that drive me mad. In ways that drove me mad throughout our entire 8 year relationship and 6 year marriage. How on earth do you deal with that? When the sounds of the voices, the kinds of things they say were the same kinds of things and sounds of things that literally made me want to scream throughout my entire 20s. I don’t want to squelch their personalities, and I know they will embody their dad in different ways throughout their lives, but at the same time it makes my skin crawl, and I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from saying something scathingly harsh.

I’ve always tried to have no regrets. To be okay with the past and the paths I have taken. It has all led me to where I am. But sometimes the reality of it can be overwhelming, conflicting. The reality that they will always say things like their dad. They will always sound like him. He is part of them, and I know there is good that comes from that. Despite the parts that make me want to run screaming. I know this when I can see past the fog of anger that sometimes still descends. I know this when I drop them off, and they run across the lawn yelling his name, lunging for a hug. I know this when he carefully carries them out to the car still half asleep.

Remembering this in the moments they become him, those moments that are too familiar, will always be the challenge.

Losing Teeth, Marking Time

2011-05-19T12:50:00.000-04:00

Over Thanksgiving weekend, Gage lost one of his front, top teeth— his third lost tooth so far:

He’s so excited, but it leaves me feeling ambivalent— I remember how big that baby tooth looked when it first cut through his baby gums, and now compared to the gaping hole and the grown-up tooth that’s coming in, it looks so small.

It seemed such a short time ago, but he’s already seven and growing so fast. It makes me think about our little baby girl on the way, and I hope to savor every moment because I’m sure before we know it, she will be losing her baby teeth, too.

Scrabble Gone Wild

2011-05-19T12:48:00.000-04:00

This is what happens when you are playing Scrabble-to-Go with a 9 year old boy and you (being six months pregnant) take a bathroom break and return to find a snickering boy at the table.
Me, being (or pretending to be) the cool, and collected mom that I am, reminded him that a “dam” is something a beaver builds, but before I ventured to the more unsettling word he crafted, I asked him what it meant.

His reply was a little unnerving, a little eye-opening, a little gut-wrenching because it means he’s really growing up, and I’m just not ready for it yet: “It’s when you’re married, and you’re naked in bed.”

Gulp.

Let me preface this by saying that the boys have never witnessed this in my house, so I’m guessing this new knowledge has come by way of the playground or the cafeteria table, and though I guess he could know more details, the fact that he could relay this much was too much.

No matter how much you prepare yourself for “the talk” and other hard conversations like this, you never quite know how to deal with them in the moment.

Luckily, I squelched the internal screaming and tried to validate his assumption without giving away too much information:
“Well, that’s probably more than you need to worry about or know about right now, but it also means whether you are a boy or a girl, so if someone asks you what sex you are, you would say boy, and I would say girl.”
That seemed to satisfy him for the moment.
I’m still recovering and have decided that I’d really be okay if this was the extent of his knowledge on the topic indefinitely.

It would mean that:

1. He would think only married people participate.

2. If he happens to decide otherwise, at least simple nakedness doesn’t lead to teen pregnancy.

We have to hold on to something, right?

Car Trips 101

2011-05-19T12:46:00.000-04:00

Surviving Long Car Trips 101

1.Electronic devices.

2.See above.

3.Switch devices and repeat.

Picky Boy

2011-05-19T12:44:00.000-04:00

What’s wrong with this shirt?

Nothing. It’s cute. It’s blue. It’s new. It has a pirate ship! So why won’t Gage wear it? Because it has two buttons. He hates button shirts. And what else? Striped shirts. “Hard” pants. Button pants. Tie shoes. And I’m sure I’ve forgotten something else that is on his list of particulars.

Seriously? He’s a boy. I thought they’d wear anything!

Mommy Guilt

2011-05-19T12:42:00.000-04:00

Ever have one of those mommy moments you wish you could just erase? From your memory and the memory of the usually cute 9 year old boy who pushed one too many buttons a little too early in the morning? The button pushing that left you behaving more like a banshee than your normally calm, level-headed self?

Anyone?

What a way to start a Monday morning, but it’s times like these that I am glad parents and children are created with the ability to love each other unconditionally and forgive each other easily. That by the time we left the house we were calm again and still able to give hugs and say I love yous and move forward with our day. That despite the fact that my little boy is morphing into a sarcastic, middle elementary school boy, which I am not prepared for and have no idea what to do with, I can still love everything about him. Even his button pushing.

Optimized Bathrooms

2011-05-19T12:39:00.002-04:00

The optimized bathroom would…

1. have a self-cleaning shower (if ovens can do it, so can showers).

2. a toothpaste resistant mirror (they must also brush the mirror).

3. a pee guard installed around edges of the toilet, specifically for small boys (they must spin in circles while peeing).

Life would be so much easier if this came standard.

You know your husband needs to come home...

2011-05-19T12:38:00.002-04:00

1. Your dinners this week have consisted of hot dogs, mac and cheese, cereal, french fries, and frozen pizza.

2. You just heard the garbage truck drive away and realized it never came close to dawning on you that maybe the trash would need to go out in his absence

Fighting. Always.

2011-05-19T12:36:00.002-04:00

We woke up at 7:30 today.
It’s now about 8:45.
The boys have been fighting for 10 minutes.
They have each been placed in solitary confinement and have been forbidden to look at, talk to, or even breathe around each other.
It’s going to be a long day off.
Happy Veteran’s Day.
Sigh.

Dear Baby...

2011-05-19T12:35:00.000-04:00

Dear baby girl, Amazing that even though I’ve never met you, I don’t know your personality, and I don’t know what you look like, I already love you with the depth, heart, and soul that only a mother knows.

Third Grade Artwork

2011-05-19T12:33:00.000-04:00

Only from a boy. Girls don't do these things.

Pure Joy

2011-05-19T12:31:00.000-04:00

What happens when you leave a boy alone with his Halloween candy:

Anatomy of a birthday party

2010-09-29T16:15:00.001-04:00

2 cute boys, age 7 and 9
1 mom, 1 dad (divorced)
1 stepdad, stepsister, and stepaunts and uncles
1 ex-almost-stepmom, with ex-almost-stepbrothers and stepsisters
A smattering of other friends and children, to include an uncle (who was in prison), an ex-boyfriend's mom, and a college roommate

Who knew life would ever be so complex?

Getting back into it

2010-09-21T17:03:00.001-04:00

I know! I'm so hit and miss with this blogging thing! So I'm trying something new- an app for my iPhone so I can blog on the go, wherever I am. I'm also going to not stress so much about writing long posts. I intimidate myself with my own expectations- and then I usually just stop. So this post is trying this new app out (complete with quick picture upload!) and re-engaging with my blog. Because so much really is happening around the Rock House! Especially now that a new addition is on the way!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Baby Shoes

2010-07-19T09:22:00.000-04:00

I was cleaning out the boys' closets the other day, and I found their stash of baby shoes.

Scuffed toes, shredded shoe laces, and worn out heels-- shoes that helped them learn to walk, to run, to play.

I carefully held each pair and was flooded with memories of chubby little baby boy legs and feet, and I looked over at the boys and wondered where all of that has gone.

So quickly, they have grown into elementary school boys, with knobby knees and ankles and thin faces.

So quickly, they don't quite need me like they used to. I think that is the hardest change to acknowledge.

I am glad to see them growing, thriving, but I feel the loss of their babyhood, their chubby cheeks, the garbled chatter, the need for just mommy. I miss the wonder I had at them, a new parent, taking in all of their first moments.

For a while, I felt as if that wonder was gone, but each day I am learning to see the joy and wonder that comes with this age.

The way they learn to have friends or to not have friends, to get their feelings hurt, to see who really cares.

The way they learn to be a part of fads (silly bands, anyone?).

The way they experiment with their sense of humor and sarcasm.

The way they pretend to be grown up but still fret over missing blankets until we find them.

The way they curl up at night with their stuffed animals.

The way they blow me kisses and hugs when I tell them goodbye.

The way they cuddle with me on the couch when we watch movies.

I sighed and packed their baby shoes away again, wistful for the past, thinking that sometimes these ages seem like a new way of life for us all.

Then I saw Pacey's blanket that he left beside me when he was looking at his baby shoes.

Maybe it really isn't that different after all.

Me, in a six-word nutshell

2010-07-16T09:09:00.001-04:00

Hanging out with Making Things Up and Six Word Fridays!

Me? Well, I'm just a girl.
A mom, a wife, a friend.
Usually waiting for life to begin.
Trying to remember to jump in.
Embrace, register the moment and live.

Not Mom of the Year

2010-07-14T21:06:00.001-04:00

Head over to the Mommyologist or Life Without Pink to see the details of this one. What a great contest to participate in and topic to blog about!

I'm not mom of the year.
I cannot hide my humanness from my boys.

My anger, my sadness, my frustration--
I wear openly and publicly.
Raw and unbridled.
They see me.
Cry when I've had enough.
Yell when my short limit is reached.

Sometimes what they have to say invades my very core, my naturally quiet being.
I tune out stories of Pokemon and Bakugan.
I hold my tongue so I don't bitingly say,
"I really don't care, buddy!"

I'm selfish.
I crave quiet.
Often their daddy weekends are a beacon of light.
That seemingly endless stretch of 48 hours.
Belonging to me alone.
And then.
Then I feel guilty for that honest, raw desire.
The intrinsic need we all have for center and selves.

I used to be on a quest to be the perfect mother, mom of the year.
But I forgot that mothers are human too.
Not June Cleaver with a pressed dress, shiny pearls, a plastic smile.
The TV ideal that has skewed women's vision of motherhood.
The ideal that has made us afraid to own our emotions, so instead we guiltily sequester them away.
We rage. We cry. We feel.
To the very depths of ourselves.
And these little parts of us watch.
And learn from our humanness.

I don't always have fresh baked cookies waiting.
I've been known to skip baths here and there.
And sometimes I let DS time stretch a little too long.
But I love my boys.
In the most human, not mom of the year way I can.

How Kids Survive

2010-07-13T09:51:00.002-04:00

I'm playing along with Supah Mommy today with my first Post It Note Tuesday post!

Somehow I'm curious how kids survive to adulthood when parents are involved. And I'm simply talking about the regular, loving, but sometimes very stupid parents, like myself. One day, I will look back at all of this, get past the guilt, and laugh. Wait. I think I already am... Anyways, to the boy-os-- Hopefully, when you talk about all this in therapy one day, you will remember these heartfelt apologies.

And yet Pacey seems to have a great appetite and enjoys food. Except for carrots... I'm sure there's no connection.

Even so, Gage's hearing appears to be fine. Except when he doesn't want to listen.

Oops. I think this is probably the most embarrassing mommy moment; however, Gage's manual dexterity doesn't seem to have suffered. His DS playing is still up to par.

I blame the nurse who distracted me. And it only required one band-aid, which made our location synchronistically fortunate.

Totally a result of too little sleep. And most of the time they had a hat on anyways. So it's all good.

I'm not sure why the empathy didn't kick in automatically here. It was pretty funny. And he has a hard head. (All of the carrier head-banging training apparently has paid off ...)

One Pizza, One Pool, One Family

2010-07-11T17:39:00.005-04:00

Alternatively titled-- Blending Families for Dummies (a book that we obviously need)

Last week I blogged about the challenges that a blended family faces, and one of the issues that we have come up against in the past is spending time together-- just the five of us-- doing something that we can all enjoy. It may sound simple, but really it isn't. Trust me. Here's why:

The age gap between the boy-os and the princess is just enough so that they have absolutely nothing in common. Unavoidable.
I share joint custody of the boy-os with their father, so they are only here roughly half the time. Unavoidable.
The princess is a teenager. That equals friends, a boyfriend, a job, a team sport, and lots of time in her bedroom. Understandable.
The princess periodically spends time at her mom's house. Unavoidable.
Asian husband and I can sometimes be selfish with our time together-- being newly married and all. Understandable, but can probably be adjusted.

That is not a recipe for easy family bonding. It is actually the exact recipe for an authentic surface family feel. Co-existing in the same house, but not really bonding. We didn't have the luxury of years of baby and toddlerhood to spend together and work through the kinks of children. We have been thrown into the mix late in the game, after each of us had spent several years of raising our kids on our own. We are a bit rusty with the kind of work it takes to be a family. And by that I mean a for-real family, not just a group of people living under one roof. I used to scoff at the number of failed second marriages that involved two sets of children, but now that I've experienced the reality, I understand it and have a great respect for it. Because it is a crap ton of work. A. Crap. Ton. Of. Work. And if you don't pay attention, it can easily crumble right before your eyes.

Luckily, Asian husband and I instituted a plan of action to assist us in this family bonding endeavor. I call it the "do whatever we can whenever we can" plan or DWWCWWC. It can be pronounced dee-wick-wick, which makes it fun to say and by extension fun to execute. This very intricate and detailed plan requires a lot of forethought and careful organizing to ensure everything goes well. You should take notes.

Target a time when all of the family has intentions of being home and available.
Make plans.

You can see why it has taken us about two years to come up with it. I will pause while you recover from great awe.

This weekend we had ice cream at the local fro-yo place (which I guess would be frozen yogurt, not ice cream, but whatever), had lunch at the local pizzeria, and crashed a relative's community pool with an extra pool pass. (I was convinced that the Russian lifeguards were on to the fact that we were impostors, but for the sake of the dee-wick-wick plan, I was willing to take the chance.)

They all smiled. At the same time. And no one had a finger up his nose (Gage) or in his mouth (Pacey).

Gageyisms...

2010-07-09T15:50:00.002-04:00

Another fun writing assignment from a great blog, Making Things Up! This week's assignment is about how you are feeling, and you have to answer in six words or a series of six words. So much fun-- at least for an English major!

Make me laugh, make me smile.
He shouts, he asks, he laughs:
I don't want to grow up!
Can grown-up girls lay eighteen babies?
My elbow can touch my nose!
I want birthdays but stay "wittle."

I crave more of these moments.
Chances to laugh, chances to smile.
Asian husband says I baby them.
But what's a mom to do...
When time is fleeting and flying?

Pumpkin Patch Procrastination

2010-07-08T16:49:00.003-04:00

Writer's Workshop time! From a great blog, Mama's Losin' It!: Photographs can turn a house into a home. Share a photograph that is not on your wall, but should be…if you weren’t so lazy about actually putting it there.

Procrastination. I had a meltdown last week in Denver with the husband about being lazy and procrastinating too much. "Where's my drive?!" I Cried "Where's the initiative?!" I wailed and then hid under the covers. (Okay, maybe I wasn't quite so dramatic, but I'm sure most of us out there have had moments like this. Right? Or maybe I really am the crazy woman that Asian husband proclaims... But I digress.)

So this picture of little Gagey Goo Goo (I swear I will stop calling him this ~~when he goes to first grade~~. When he goes to ~~middle school~~. ~~High school~~. ~~College~~. At his wedding. Maybe...) is Evidence A of my mastery of the art of procrastination. This perfect pumpkin patch picture (alliteration of the day) is about three years old. I remember thinking I was almost a professional with my little digital shot here. Let me pause for a moment to allow you to admire the composition, the lighting, the blending of subject and environment... (pretend for a moment I do know the first thing about photography.)

Since then I have often thought that I should print this out (on my printer that is about 10 feet away), frame it, and hang it up. What a great way to show off that cute little face immortalized, I mused. And yet the picture is still safe and sound on my computer's hard hard drive.

Which brings me back to my original rambling. Procrastination. I have often wondered what keeps me from taking the next steps with different goals I have, small and large. Is printing out a picture and putting it in a frame really so taxing? Is blogging more than once a month unconquerable? Neither of these are at all, and what I have realized is it comes down to is fear. Fear of putting myself out there. To be judged. Observed. I have spent most of my life trying to be fairly invisible, and these kinds of things go against my grain. I have a text reminder sent to myself each day that simply states 'Confidence and Independence,' but despite the reminder, I am only doing minor things to boost that part of myself that would much rather hide, so in addition to actually printing out this picture and finding the absolute perfect spot for it (baby steps), I am working on confidence in my writing, my thinking, and my blogging (big steps), which I hope contributes to confidence in my being (even bigger steps).

Natural Consequences

2010-07-07T16:23:00.001-04:00

Just when I think that the past is really behind me, that I've moved on, grown, made strides, and learned something (any other cliches?), I realize that rather than growth and healing being a straight-lined journey, it is more cyclical, revisited periodically. Coming on the heels of Father's Day, this current bout of understanding and reflection concerning the past has been fairly poignant. I'm realizing that the process of blending a family is more complicated, more difficult, and frankly more work than I had been prepared for. Given a variety of personalities, cultures, and family backgrounds, I liken it to throwing three different jigsaw puzzles on the ground and trying to come up with one coherent picture. Not impossible, but also not easy. We continue to work at it, diligently, but now with the knowledge that this work is true work, and it needs to be tackled each day with an awareness of the importance it holds.

It just so happened that for the past week, I have been converting old home videos to a digital format, which means that I have spent quite a bit of time immersed in my and the boys' pasts. From the birth of Pacey to the time Gage was 3, their dad and I separated three times and finally divorced. I went through several hairstyles (some good, some very, very bad). I lived in four different homes. Much of this was invisible to the camera's eye, but as I watched, I relived the backchannel story. The anger and grief, the hopelessness and despair. But I also saw our love for the boys despite the situation. We laughed at them and with them, and it rejuvenated my soul to experience our relationships as a third party. It made me glad that one day, when the boys are older and see the videos, they will see many happy moments that included all four of us.

In the midst of my personal reflection (and despite the fact that the boys didn't know I was watching the videos), Pacey intuitively told me that he wished that all four of us could still live together, so that way he could see me and his dad all the time. In that moment, I realized that I owe so much to my little boy-os. When making the choice to leave (time after time), I struggled with the impact it would have on them, and I finally found peace with the notion that if I had stayed, I would have continued to be unhappy and that would have impacted them in a much more detrimental way. What struck me was that though I have moved on, and we have a new life with a new family, we will always be impacted by that choice. The boys have ultimately lost something and will experience that loss daily-- when they wish to be with both parents all the time, despite the fact that they were so little that they don't remember us all living together. I looked down at his head in my lap and saw a strength in him that I hadn't noticed before, and I realized the irony of divorce. That in some way, in order for me (and by extension them) to be happy, I had to make a choice that would always make them sad. And me too, a little, if I am being completely honest with myself.

I have no regrets for the choices I made that brought us here. I know that I am much happier, much more fulfilled and much more myself in this marriage to an incredible man. And that all translates to me being a better mom, which brings me back to the blending family issue. Through all of this reflection and revisiting of the past, I have realized that I need to create a new definition of family for myself. I have naively believed that simply by the merit of us all living under the same roof, we would immediately feel and function like a single, biological family. I have wished that all of the kids would just be ours, and that it would feel like what I had only glimpses of in my previous life. But through that wishing, I have ignored the reality of what blending a family and step-parenting means-- we are not a biological unit, and it is completely natural to feel that loss, but it is also equally important to know that the boys and I and the husband and the princess are a part of so much more as long as we are open to finding it. We are a blended family, and though the journey that comes with creating and maintaining this kind of family is more intentional, less haphazard, and littered with remnants of our pasts that require careful navigation, I know we will be up for the trip.

Real Tears

2010-04-14T21:25:00.001-04:00

Seeing pain in your child's eyes and being helpless to fix it is one of the hardest moments parents face. As we grow with our children, we quickly learn to look past the pouting, temper tantrums, and upsets over missing toys. Hopefully we teach them to understand and deal with disappointment that comes with growing up-- from losing games to losing friends, it is our job to help our children understand how to grow from those experiences. As with every other task that comes with parenting, we continually become more adept at these moments until moving our children through them becomes close to second nature.

What we aren't prepared for are those first, real tears. The tears that speak to the realization of the sadness that can come with being human. The gradual loss of innocence that begins from birth is sped up in these experiences and the child's heartache that accompanies this painful part of growing up is even more heart-wrenching for the mom watching it unfold.

While I was cooking dinner tonight, Gage was quietly playing alone upstairs. I was hearing the Leap Frog learning pad and the Lincoln Logs, but eventually he was quietly reading a book we checked out from the library earlier this week. This book was an afterthought, a book that Gage crammed into the stack as I was diligently looking for level 1 readers for him. The cover must have caught his eye-- brilliantly illustrated in deep blues and greens with a lone hippo floating in the ocean. As I added it to our books, I didn't know how much it would impact us.

It is mostly a picture book, with the only word being "mama," but in those pictures, a poignant story is told. One of love and loss, one that changes perspectives and brings understanding as a hippo family is separated in the Indonesian tsumani of 2004 and the baby hippo finds a new "mama" in a 130 year old turtle.

I was finishing dinner when Pacey told me that Gage was crying upstairs, and I frustratedly thought, "what now?!" Lately, they have been in a phase of arguing and hurt feelings, so I was sure that I didn't want to hear whatever it was that had brought about the tears this time. When Gage wouldn't reply to my calls, I went up the stairs to see what had happened. I found him curled on the couch in the loft, the book by his side, tears silently leaving tracks on his cheeks.

As I held him and let him cry for over an hour, I realized what he had come to understand. The loss that is inherent in life, the fear of being without a loved one, the mortality we constantly evade. My tears chased his as he looked pleadingly at me, his eyes questioning mine, imploring me to take back what he had discovered. I knew I could do nothing but let him cry in my arms, for that moment a safe haven. As I held him, I saw the baby he once was. The little line of peach fuzz on his nose, adjacent to the red mark on his nostril. His legs curled into his stomach. His lips soft and round. His eyelashes long and thick. The only difference was a fear in his eyes that I haven't seen before, a fear that I have known well. I was 6 when I started worrying about my grandma dying and would cry in her bed at night as she stroked my forehead like I was stroking his. With each motion, his eyes started to drift off. I felt his body relax and twitch as he gave into the fatigue that an hour of crying can bring. I held him there, still running my fingers through his silky hair until bedtime when I carried him upstairs to tuck him in. He choked out a few sleepy sobs and as I covered him up with his favorite blanket, he seemed to take comfort in an old, familiar friend.

I came back downstairs and cried at the harsh reality of love and loss. If we let it, life will pass us by in a flurry of activity and forgotten tasks. If we are lucky, we find occasional reminders for gratitude and awareness. When we are open to it, the chance to live in the moment with our loved ones presents itself.

Image embedded from: http://www.amazon.com/MAMA-story-which-during-TSUNAMI/dp/0152054952

Break-Ups and Bottoms

2010-02-13T22:33:00.004-05:00

Boys are an enigma. And let's face it: a bit weird. The whole parenting things is hard enough, but when you add to the mix that I had three sisters and was never around boys all that much growing up, things get a little bizarre.

An always present issue? Volume. Why is their normal voice decibel what most of us would use at a concert? Directly in front of the stage by that absurdly large speaker. The husband and I thought we were being so non-traditional when we decided we wanted an open floor plan-- it was a deal breaker, we'd agreed. I think that now I would pay money to have Holmes on Homes come and throw up some walls just for some sound barrier.

But beyond the volume (I swear I told Gage 25 times today that we were inside, so we need to use our inside voices. Choose to read those italics as a stressed word or a screamed word-- up to you.), I'm continually finding that raising two boys is an adventure, especially when one is an 8 year old in second grade.

What exactly happens between sending the sweet, round-faced little boy off to kindergarten and being shrugged off by a somewhat sarcastic, thin second grader? Yes, I've gotten the shoulder-nudge hug, and most recently, the fake ha-ha-ha laugh when I made an outstandingly funny joke about the wind blowing us away because it was so strong. Of course, it was a funny joke, and I knew he was flexing his new found sarcasm, which I'm sure he didn't pick up from me-- must have been some kid at school.

Pacey has never been what you might call even-tempered. Start with the 6-hour screaming fits as an infant, the mega temper tantrums as a toddler, and you really can't expect much different from a second grader, I'm coming to find.

One day, he was upset because he and his friend broke up. I tried to nonchalantly engage the conversation and get down to what we all really wanted to know-- who is this little harlot and when exactly did this relationship get started, let alone progress enough to end?! I was fighting this internal battle when he finally told us that Connor told him he didn't want to be friends anymore. Connor. A boy. His lunch table friend. I was enamored with his innocence and attempt to use "grown-up" words to talk about something as commonplace as severed second-grade friendships. I gave him a hug and offered some mom-perfect words of consolation as he ran off, leaving me wistfully wanting to bottle that innocence and sprinkle it around when he hits the dreaded teens.

I was thoroughly enjoying that mom-fantasy when I was rudely ripped from my dreamland as Gage ran by shrieking (loudly, of course), followed by Pacey yelling (again, loudly), "Smell my bottom, smell my bottom!"

Which came from the boy who just moments earlier was crying about a break-up. I think I will need that bottled innocence just a bit sooner.

S is for Strength

2010-01-07T17:01:00.000-05:00

Christmas was a fun time at the Rock House-- filled with family and fun and all of the traditional Christmastime activities. I have always made cookies with the boys at Christmas-- the first time with a 2 year old and a newborn. Sprinkles and frosting decorated more of the table and floor than the cookies (notice Pacey is squeezing the frosting directly onto the table), and I know they don't remember it, but to me, it was an important time because I had never made my grandma's press cookies on my own before. It had always been a Christmastime ritual to go over to Grandma's house and decorate the trees, wreaths, poinsettias, and dog cookies with candied cherries and sprinkles. Baking with Grandma was one of my favorite pastimes, and since that first foray into independent cookie baking, which went beyond press cookies even, I have baked her cookies with the boys each year.

It always feels like more than just baking-- when I dig through my recipe box, find a recipe, some in my grandma's handwriting, pull down her KitchenAid mixer and set to work. Reconnecting with the past, imagining simpler times, and creating something with the boys casts a warm glow around the process. This year was especially meaningful because the boys and I made her S cookies, which were always my favorite. The two-day recipe always had intimidated me, so I never tried it, but as the boys and I shaped cookies into S's, I felt perfectly at ease and content. I held Gage's hand as he turned the handle of the grinder to chop the almonds the same way my grandma did with mine. As we dipped the cookies into almonds and sugar, tears filled my eyes because I could feel a connection with my past that will allow my grandma to live forever in my kitchen, and it is moments like this that I can ask for nothing more but to continue baking cookies and building memories with my boys.

My grandma always said that I was determined and could do anything I set my mind to. I'm not sure that I believed her when I was young, but the boys have changed my mindset as I strive to give them traditions, memories, and a warm family environment. They will always remember these moments with me in kitchen, and I know that with every S, wreath, and tree she is smiling down on me and the Rock House family, pleased with the cookies, the continuing of Christmas traditions, and our happy life together.

Helicopter Tendencies

2009-12-09T17:13:00.006-05:00

First, let me apologize to my blog for being so neglectful. I really did intend on keeping up with it after summer was through. And here we are in December and my last post was in September. Oops. Well, moving on!

With the harried beginning of the school year that includes three birthdays, three kids in sports, Halloween, a fun map project, and Thanksgiving, I am tired. The dust has settled and now we are home most evenings and weekends, and I have been finding myself feeling a little annoyed at that hurried kind of lifestyle and searching nostalgically for some simplicity. The other day synchronicity took over, and I happened upon a fabulous article from Time Magazine, entitled Helicopter Parents: The Growing Backlash Against Overparenting. This article playfully, but poignantly, looks at the out of control trend of parents to overparent. Hiring tutors for a five year old, buying hypo-allergenic socks, and baby kneepads are a few of the outrageous sounding practices that are running rampant in today's society. The article put it best-- Parenting has become a form of product development. This caused me to think about my own helicopter tendencies...

We live at the end of our elementary school's walking zone-- about .3 miles. At the beginning of the year, I required Pacey to wait at the crosswalk for me to pick him up. It just wasn't safe, I insisted, to allow an almost 8 year old walk home by himself. I must have been thinking in line with many of the local parents because the area around the crosswalk is quite the happening spot with mini-vans and SUVs lined up, ready to pick up their cargo and drive safely home. After a week of his pleading, I gave in and allowed him to walk, but I would drive by everyday and ask him if he wanted a ride. I think he acquiesced twice. Once when it was raining and once when he was coming down with the flu. Otherwise, I got the half wave, half blow off as he exercised a small bit of autonomy that to an 8 year old is huge. Yet, I continued to drive by, thinking that I was doing a great thing by checking up on him and making sure he didn't feel forced to walk all that way home. Until last week that is, when I realized I was a helicopter parent, a mild one, but a helicopter parent nonetheless.

The great thing about the Internet is where it can take you. I know that may sound cheesy, friends, but really, think about it. When is the last time you started to read one article, saw a link to another, read that one, saw another link to a related video, watched that, saw a link to another article, (need I continue?)... It's just amazing! So while I was reading the Time article, I happened upon the blog of who I found was once labeled "the worst mom in America." All because she allowed her nine year old to ride the subway in New York City alone. She was on morning shows and took severe lashings from the American public (mostly helicopter parents, I would guess) for her reckless methods of raising her children. This prompted her to start the Free-Range Kids blog, which led to a book, which has really created a movement in getting back to the roots of parenting our children. Her premise is not reckless; she maintains that safety is always important, but she brings to light the craziness of our generation in trying to lock down our children's every movement. Yes, there are awful things that happen everyday, but to live in fear is to not live at all. And to instill that constant fear in our children is a great disservice.

I looked up from my computer, almost in tears. The thought of letting them play in the front yard alone without feeling like a total slacker was so liberating! The idea of not feeling required to script all of their activities and to actually allow them time to just be kids, be free was even more liberating. I almost felt like burning my bra-- but I figured that I should probably keep myself in control since I was reading at my desk at work.

I started to see all of the irony in the things that I have always felt I had to do to be a good parent. The "neighborhood" soccer league that required a 15-20 minute drive through bad traffic three times a week was hardly a neighborhood program, now was it? Does that mean I will take the fun of playing soccer away from Pacey? No, but I will be calling the people in charge and request a change of coach/team to a place that is at least close to our neighborhood. Will I not put Gage in swim lessons like he asked? Well, no, I won't, but I decided how much more fun it would be if we all just went swimming at the rec after school once a week? Everything doesn't have to be a structured, two-times-a-week-right-in-the-middle-of-dinner activity, now does it? No, I am seeing now that it doesn't, and that doesn't make it wrong, it doesn't make me a bad mom, and it doesn't mean my kids will be less successful for not having needed a Google calendar to manage their schedules and five activities each at the ages of 6 and 8.

I want to have the time to take them to the rec for fun, free swimming. I want to take them to the Farmers' Market to get fresh fruit. And I want them to be able to come home from school and play. With their toys, with each other, with me, with the neighborhood kids. Because that is what kids should be doing. And not just in the summer when we have time off. I stopped driving the long way around to the house, so I could make sure Pacey didn't need a ride. Instead, I meet him at home because those ten minutes of freedom and autonomy are teaching him to be responsible and independent.

So even though I don't usually make New Year's Resolutions, this year, I am making a New Lifestyle Resolution-- to live more simply, less fearfully, and more fully. The boys deserve an old-fashioned childhood that is full of freedom to explore and experience their lives-- not under the guise of schedules and continuously organized activities.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/sharynmorrow/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

It happened... Twice.

2009-09-08T19:30:00.006-04:00

Several years ago a really good friend of mine gave me a book called Let Me Hold You Longer by Karen Kingsbury. This was back when the boy-os were smallish-- say 3 and 1, and it made me cry each time I read it. Trust me, if you haven't had a good cry lately, check it out. No kidding, this one will invoke some quality emotional connecting. The gist of the book is about all of the lasts that we inevitably face as mothers-- the last time they slip their sticky hands into ours, the last time the run and give us a big kiss, the last time... well, you see where this is going, don't you?

Yes, I think it happened to me. I experienced a last time, but the thing with these last times is you don't realize it when it's happening. We remember all of the firsts, dutifully enter them into the baby book, but the lasts are a bit more poignant, a bit more monumental, and they usually pass us by, until one day we look up and our baby who used to call applesauce p-sa, p-sa is driving off to college. Okay, so it's not that bad. Yet. But so far, I think second grade is equally heartwrenching.

Today was the first day of school and a little more important than usual because both boy-os were in new schools. So I was slightly overprotective and hovering with Pacey when I dropped him off at morning care in the elementary school gym today. I knew he wouldn't know anyone, and I had the classic mom nightmares of teasing, loneliness, and tears. I started nagging (which are really just loving reminders) full force: "Do you remember your room number? 14, right? And where are you meeting me after school? At the crosswalk, right? You're not going to start walking home today. Remember?" I noticed I got a little sideways glance and a mumbled, "I know!" but I brushed it off because I was actually starting to annoy myself with that line of questioning. Hesitantly, I started to walk to the door and tried to give him a hug, and it happened. He gave me that half-squeeze, shoulder nudge hug. But I blew it off and chalked it up to his nervousness. Because surely, this sweet thing who would give me hugs when I would come and have lunch with him just last year would never give me a shoulder nudge hug today.

Except it gets worse. When I picked him up around the crosswalk today (okay, I admit-- I couldn't just wait at the crosswalk I had walk down the sidewalk towards the school), I put my arm around him as we walked and he pushed it off (gently, but still). Still! It was then, when we walked in the rain to the car, that it really hit me. It happened. Twice. Sometime last year, at lunch, I got the last elementary school PDA from my oldest boy-o. Somewhere I swear I hear a sad version of Taps sounding at such a loss.

I used to cry at the idea of all of those last times back when I first received my copy of Let Me Hold You Longer. Now as the reality of those last times is beginning to take shape, I cry for what has begun to fade away. I know there are still many lasts still to come, but I think this first last time was one for the baby books.

Compromise and Craziness

2009-08-10T20:34:00.008-04:00

I was skimming through my RSS feeds the other day, and I found this article about divorce, marriage, and health. It reports on the findings of a study that attempts to correlate poor health with divorce and/or unhappy marriages. While it doesn't seem that much a surprise to me-- duh, when you are miserable or going through stress, your health suffers? Shocking!-- it got me thinking about all of the phases in my life, especially after just battling (and winning, which is unusual) the boy-os dad for a school change for them and even more so since it was four years ago this month that the boys and I made new lives for ourselves in the little yellow house by the beach. (Picture above, Spring 2006.)

I have always tried to look at this as a journey with no regrets, and when I look at who I was ten years ago when I was first married to the boy-os father, and I compare it to who I am now, I see that the differences are amazing. Sometimes I wonder if I would ever exchange the growth and learning for a lack of the struggle and strife that were a part of the last four years? While I like to laugh about how many times we went back and forth from being together to being separated, it makes me sad, too. Because I know that was out of a fierce desire to create something out of nothing, no matter the cost. It wasn't until I honestly felt like I was dying, until the day I found myself walking in the cold rain at the beach alone that I had to make the choice for me and the boys.

And now, four years later, I know without question it was the best decision I ever made. Even though while I was a single mom, I was often frustrated by the state of my life. By not living the dream of a family I always wanted. By being alone and doing it on my own. But all of that was needed, was an integral part in all of our journeys to become who we are today. And because of it, I know I value my life in the Rock House so much more than I could have otherwise.

I have had to learn to share, and while there are days that I wish their dad would "disappear," I know we are lucky to have him want to be involved so much. The boys will benefit from that in some way, even though his modes and methods may be questionable sometimes. It forces me to compromise, to communicate, and to understand. Whether we can do that between the two of us or in mediation, is another story. Sometimes I rage and hate that I have to share, that I can't just call the shots and that I can't have my kids all the time. It frustrates me that they are only here half of the time. That on Tuesdays and Thursdays and every other weekend, their beds are empty and the house is quiet. That I have had to learn to not feel guilty because I sometimes enjoy myself and the quiet house. That I had to go to mediation to make a change that is really in the boys' best interest. But in quieter moments, I can accept that this is the way life is and be grateful for all that we are learning because of it. And it is in these quiet moments, that I can understand Shirley Maclaine's line from the movie Rumor Has It: "If the marriage implodes, divorce. You haven't lived till you've been through one of those."

Pacey Perfect

2009-07-23T17:07:00.010-04:00

I awoke this morning, listening to the rain, and trying not to think about the very limited time I have left with the boy-os this summer, but finding that rather difficult. I am lucky to have an entire month off, but it just seems too short, and with a surgery coming next week, I really only have a few days left to spend the whole day with them. After that, it is back to work and all too soon, back to school for them. Back to the grind and craziness that stalls and quietly lingers on the side of the road during the summer months.

As I was thinking about this, I heard the soft padding of little boy feet sleepily track down the hardwood hallway, and peeked a Pacey face at the doorway. I pulled back the covers and invited him in for some morning snuggles, something he and I have always done. The sleepy little Linus always looks the same, save for some variations in pajama and height. The only constant variable: balled up in his skinny arms is his blue blanket, which he long ago dubbed "Kee-kee." He and Kee-kee tumble into bed and neither of us say anything for quite some time. He curls in, and for a brief moment, I believe it is several years ago, when he was much smaller, and would tote his beloved, much younger blanket, and reach to be lifted into bed, smelling faintly of a morning diaper, his round head of curly baby hair, slightly sweaty. Even then, we would always spend a few quiet moments before either of us would break the silence and the magic of the early morning.

I revel in this vivid and strong memory, almost smelling the diaper and feeling the curly, sweaty hair brush my face when Pacey shifts, and I am transported back to the present and see the boy he has become. His arms and legs lanky, his face narrowed, and his head no longer filled with soft, baby boy curls. I pull him into a tight bear hug, knowing that one day, perhaps soon, he will be too big for this quiet time in the morning with his mommy. The snuggles will be fewer and farther between, and while I will have these memories, I will always miss the Pacey Perfect mornings.

Simplicity

2009-07-22T16:39:00.012-04:00

Fabulous find #49291-- the local aquarium has a 35 minute Creek Cruise for $7 a person departing hourly starting at noon. I stumbled upon this hidden treasure while sitting at the doctor's office, and snapped a picture of the smallish ad in the free parenting magazine with my iPhone. I was certain with a ridiculous level of giddiness and pride that no one else was privy to such a great find. I failed to realize:

It's tourist season, and
It's a free parenting magazine in a doctor's office. Label this post "Duh."

Feeling like I held a sacred revelation, I waited the perfect amount of time to disclose my find to the boy-os-- enough to allow them to anticipate the adventure, but not so much that they nagged me about it unendingly. We eagerly approached the ticket counter at 1:30, only to find they only had tickets left for the 5:00 cruise. This would have been nice to know when I called at noon and asked if the cruises typically sold out and if we got there 30 minutes before would that be good and was assured it was all good. Luckily, we were there with a friend who has a membership, so we quickly changed plans to spend some time exploring the museum, and I was proud of the boy-os, who had gotten pretty excited about a 35 minute cruise around the marsh, when they were just as excited to be around all of the fish on the other side of the glass.

In an attempt to completely tire them out, we decided to do the nature walk to the other building, which takes 10 minutes, one way. We found a room on the way to the nature walk, where there were stuffed animals, a chalkboard wall, a magnetic fishing game, hopscotch, books, and a mini-aquarium. It was pretty basic by design, not grandly decorated or overly emphatic in an attempt to be a cool room at the aquarium. In short, it was simple. Understated.

Simply perfect for a 5 year old, so Gage, of course, was fascinated by this room. Those of us who know Gage are not surprised. He is often in what we call "parallel world," a space he enters that has him playing happily on his own alongside, not with, other kids or adults. Don't mistake this for the idea that he isn't social. Oh no. He will talk to anyone, even the guy in the car next to us when we both had our windows down. "Yes, he's friendly," I often find myself saying. And let's not forget about the time he attached himself to another soccer mom's leg during a game when he was two. I felt the need to profusely proclaim, "Really, we love him and show him affection, I swear!" He is just so comfortable in his own skin, and totally into the really simple things-- like this room.

I sat back and watched him find puppets and stuffed animals to engage in a great battle, tote his favorite "squib" (see Gagey-isms post for translation) to the book area, complete several games of "ho-scosh," and wrangle several buckets of magnetic fish. I felt like I was looking at one of those Family Circus cartoons that show the tracks little Billy takes all over the yard. He came over to me every so often to show me a puppet or talk about what he saw, but mostly he was completely absorbed in this free play-- even on our second visit after the nature walk and otters and snakes, which he was also excited about.

Watching this moment of pure abandon on the part of my 5 year old, struck me quite powerfully. I often feel like we inundate them-- with TV, with toys, with activities, with stuff. It took a simple room with simple toys to completely enthrall and engage a young mind that is already full of wonder. I know these were new items and new is always better than the same old toys you play with every day, but it did not take new and flashy toys to catch his eye. It took new and simple-- basic playthings that allowed him to make the rules and create his own "new parallel world."

Before we go getting way too serious (this post is not meant to invoke tears), let me just say I don't want this to end for him. I want to jump into his parallel world-- invited, of course, and live like he does... Minus running into the glass window like he did at the gym today. That would probably be something I could live without.

Post-Vacation Burn Out

2009-07-20T19:27:00.008-04:00

So after a great, great almost week in Key West, the husband and I finally came home sweet home following a spontaneous (I'm maintaining the positivity I had throughout the whole experience), spur of the moment detour in Cincinnati. And who knew that the Cincinnati Airport Holiday Inn is really in Kentucky? Erlanger, Kentucky to be exact. So, not only did we get to extend our honeymoon one day longer, I also get to check Kentucky off on my list of states to visit. Hey, it may have only been the Holiday Inn, but my tired, Key West feet were on Kentuckian soil, so it counts.

We were greeted in the airport by the two crazy boy-os holding handmade signs. A fabulous surprise to say the least. Not much beats the sight of this:

We had some good moments after that unbeatable high with a puppet/costume character show, a few rounds of slapjack, and some computer games. But their excitement at being home and my pure exhaustion from a week of 100+ temps and walking around and relaxing (which is exhausting) was not a good mix. So we'll start again tomorrow.

What I've been thinking about today is this post-vacation burn out that is hitting pretty quickly. Does anyone else get a little over-idealistic when they are on vacation? I don't mean looking at the idyllic scenery and dreaming about a time when this is a daily vista. No, I'm talking about getting a superhero syndrome from O magazine. Or Real Simple magazine. I blame them both.

I have never really looked at Oprah's magazine before, but it was pretty inspiring. Either that or there is some sort of mind-altering drug infused in the paper. I left Key West truly believing that I was going to start eating organic, shop at the farmer's market and buy seasonal fruits and veggies year round and plan my meals accordingly, eliminate processed food from all of our diets completely, add to our recycling plan to include Capri Sun pouches and involve Pacey by starting a blog for him to track how many we save, so he can become a total 21st century kid who does good and then blogs about it (do I need to continue?). It seemed like such a good plan. Until.

Until I got home today and realized that, though the intent was good, the dream may not unfold quite as seamlessly. In my O magazine, Key West haze I saw all of this falling into place nicely and neatly, and probably in the next two weeks I have off before I return to work.

Um, ya, not so much I realized as I tried to help Pacey put together the ship in the bottle kit we found, which seemed like the perfect gift at the time. This must have been another instance of the O magazine, Key West superhero syndrome. If you find yourself picking up a miniature ship in a bottle kit, thinking it's a good idea for your seven-year-old, please, save yourself and put it down. I will take one for the team there, thanks.

So as the night wore on, I did a pretty good job of staying the fab mom whom I know is under all the sunblock residue, making sure I reminded the boy-os that Mommy is a little tired, so let's try to behave the best way we know how. (It worked a little-- once I was almost reduced to tears by the ship in the bottle, and I did get a little stressed by Pacey's jumping and bounding). And I realized, quite humbly, that those are some lofty goals to which to aspire, and the post-vacation burn out is at least teaching me to pace myself. I am going to add some of that to my 101 in 1001, (mine coming soon to a blog near you) and hope that within the next two years, I see those happen from time to time. And I'll still keep my O magazine and Real Simple close by for inspiration.

I know I can be slow...

2009-07-12T18:32:00.006-04:00

but really, how could I have not figured this out before? Why has it taken seven, yes count them, seven years to grasp this whole parenting, being a mother thing? Yes, I know that I have been pretty successful at keeping them safe, not allowing them to jump from their windows, etc. I have also been pretty successful at the nurturing them and making them feel loved thing, too. But why oh why, did it take this long to figure out how not to pull out my hair each day and how not to dread any extended time at home with them by myself? I feel so empowered by this new skill I have gained-- like I can conquer the mom world with a single blow of play-doh and coloring books. Right now, both boy-os are sitting quietly and intently coloring; Gage in his trademark monochromatic style (color of choice today is blue) and Pacey making Littlefoot a rainbow of colors, down to his summer-ready toenail polish. And all of this easily completed in a few steps:

Gathering and organizing all of the craft and art supplies in one place. And if they ever claim to be bored, I have a whole arsenal of supplies ready to go-- it's ridiculous how much there was scattered between their two bedrooms!
The simple suggestion that they go get a coloring book from the coloring book box (there is one of these now!) and sit at the dining room table and color.

Okay, now I know that this seems so simple, and I have definitely suggested things like this before, but it's actually working now. I think because I am doing a little less of expecting them just to play on their own all the time and more of suggesting , directing, and engaging them in activities. I know, this is sad coming from a teacher. When would we leave our classrooms up to the kids to decide what to do all day long? I still want them to learn to entertain themselves, too, but the balance of entertaining themselves and also being directed is important. (I know, duh.)

Countdown to Kindergarten

2009-07-12T11:55:00.006-04:00

Here is Gage with his countdown calendar. When preschool was over at the end of May, he thought kindergarten would immediately follow, and he also didn't understand the concept of 3 months. I tried to tell him about 90 days, but that was just too abstract for him to grasp. So I printed out monthly calendars for the summer, so we could cross of each day and keep a countdown to the first day of school. So far, it has been a big hit.

Each night, he loves crossing off the day, and then every few nights, we count how many days are left and write it on the day we just crossed out. He's learning a little about the concept of time passing, but we are also practicing counting past twenty and writing our numbers, which as you can see (maybe), he sometimes writes backwards. I think writing on the wall is messing with his head!

Cartoon Network/Nickelodeon Ban- Update

2009-07-11T08:03:00.005-04:00

A few days ago, I officially entered dictator mode and banned all Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon watching at the Rock House. I usually don't let them watch TV all that much, but lately all they have wanted to do is watch Cartoon Network. There were already shows on those channels that have had the ban implemented, but after hearing them incessantly recite various snippets of inane humor, I decided enough was enough. I scoured our cable guide to find any other child-friendly (read actually child-friendly and parent approved, unlike some of the shows on CN and Nick) channels that they could watch during their TV time. I made a list of about 6 or 7 channels that have seemed to have met boy-approval. Again, I'm sure I'm late in the game here in deciding to take action here, but I'm deciding to be happy with my progress and not look back.

So here's our list of mom-approved, boy-tested channels:
PBS Kids
Discovery Kids
Noggin
Two local PBS stations
Disney (sadly, this needs to be monitored at times-- I'm not ready for them to watch Hannah Montana, etc.)

So this morning for Saturday morning TV, they were watching Trading Spaces, Boys vs. Girls on Discovery Kids. Much better than The Misadventures of Flapjack, right? :)

Oh, and the image above is a free image courtesy of photo8.com. All of the images from this site are in the public domain and can be used for any purpose. I probably will share things like this from time to time-- just the instructional technology side of me.

And I saw this really cool signature creating site on a friend's blog that I just had to try out. MyLiveSignature allows you many different options for creating your own digital and customized signature.

Rediscovering

2009-07-10T15:48:00.004-04:00

This has been a great week full of fun and activity. And somewhere in the midst of that, I have had the luck and blessing to rediscover why I love being a mom. Yes, I admit-- I have always found myself somewhere in the middle of loving my life as a mom and being completely frustrated, which I'm sure is true of many moms. I completely love and appreciate my boys, but I was often confronted with a complete lack of patience, creativity, and energy. Not all of the time, but enough for it to always bother me.

Somehow, in someway, all of that has changed this week. I am always grateful for my month as a stay at home mom, but part of me always dreaded it, too. Not because I didn't want to spend time with them, but because I had no idea what to do with all of our time. It would completely overwhelm me. Suddenly, I am full of ideas, full of energy, and totally loving every second of what we have done this week. Maybe it comes from finding happiness and not living with a sense of frustration for past mistakes and lost dreams, or maybe it comes from finally finding confidence in what I can do as their mother. Either way, it is the best gift I could receive. I feel like I have rediscovered my boys and figured out a little more of how to do this mom thing a little better.

Now. We are off to the park. :)

How I Made a Garbage Truck

2009-07-09T11:57:00.004-04:00

It was fun building a garbage truck! We had to screw a lot of stuff together. Here is the movie I made! by Pacey

Gagey-isms

2009-07-09T08:30:00.007-04:00

Gage is a master at saying words the wrong way, and I am always saying I need to write them down in his baby book. I'm sure there are a few in there, but I figure this is a good place to record his own renditions of words. I have probably let him say them the wrong way for way too long, and Jon is making me correct him since he is going to kindergarten (the picture is of him at registration) in the fall. He should probably learn the right way. I think it is me holding on to one of the last threads of his "babyhood." He is growing up! And some of these are already fixed-- no need to worry.

Okay, so here's the list. I will remember what I can now, and then update as he "mis-speaks." :)

fra-ssert=dessert
fra-mote=remote
wabanna=banana and has recently morphed into bee-anna
squib=squid
My heart is beeping.=My heart is beating.
hook=hood
gwub=glove
plugger=the electrical plug on an item or the actual outlet
boice=voice
ca-no-ca-nut=coconut
ba-na-hind=behind

Just writing these down made me laugh out loud!

New Family Challenges

2009-07-08T08:50:00.004-04:00

It has been interesting over the last 10 months since we have all been living together to see what it is going to take to figure out this blended family thing and how to do it well. We were talking just last night about how we didn't realize just how hard it would really be. I think we both knew it would be challenging, but until you really get into the thick of it, I don't think you could really imagine just how challenging.

I can see how, if we just blindly went through it, things could get really messy pretty quickly. Pacey and Gage are still so small and need so much hands-on parenting that if we both went along according to our own agenda with them, they would be confused and we would both be frustrated. What I have liked is that we have stayed pretty aware of what is going on. If something does not work well with the way we handle things with all three of the kids, we have talked about it and worked together to figure out how to better handle situations. I like that we are co-parenting and communicating. I think that will make this a fulfilling challenge, rather than one that makes us want to bang our heads against the wall. Or we may still bang our heads against the wall, but at least we would be working together. :)

Gage and His iPod

2009-07-08T08:24:00.007-04:00

I couldn't resist getting a clip of the sweetly singing Gage this morning. My goal this summer is to update this blog more frequently and make it more of a habit. Enjoy!

December Wintergreen Trip

2009-02-16T16:46:00.005-05:00

I know this is a little late, but in December we took all three kids to Wintergreen. After an event-filled 35 minute drive from the hotel to the resort, which included several stops along the mountain roads, one of which included Pacey throwing up, we spent a few hours in the morning tubing, which for the boys, was the hit of the day. Gage was not interested in learning to ski, but Pacey and I took a snowboarding lesson together. He was quite brave and picked it up pretty quickly! We learned a bit about taking small ones skiing/snowboarding, but in all, it was a great day. We came home exhausted and happy with lots of stories to tell... "Remember when we had to stop along a curvy mountain road in Charlottesville, so Pacey could throw up at the end of someone's driveway?" Ya, I'm sure that will be part of family folklore for many years to come!

Check out the pictures in Picasa.

And here is a sample video of tubing.

Pacey's Bike Riding Adventure

2009-02-09T15:06:00.008-05:00

Since the weekend was so nice, I decided it was finally time to get the training wheels off of Pacey's bike and get him up on two wheels. With the promise of a new bike, he was ready to go. I took the training wheels off, and with two quick times across the front yard with me holding the seat he was off and on his own. By the end of the day Sunday, he was doing "tricks" and taking his feet off of the pedals. Sigh. :) So shortly into the future, we will be bike shopping! Enjoy the video!

Hi, everyone!

2009-01-20T15:12:00.001-05:00

I am going to keep this so that you can all stay posted on everything that is happenign with us here at the Rock House! I am hoping that from time-to-time, Pacey, who is becoming quite a cyber-citizen will begin to type some posts and upload pictures and videos he is taking with his new camera Santa got him for Christmas. For now I will share some of the pictures taken by Jeff of Calma Photography.