Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Blessed in the Nest: Scientist or Mess Maker? All in the perspective yo...
Blessed in the Nest: Scientist or Mess Maker? All in the perspective yo...: Just yesterday morning I was sitting in my kitchen with my husband drinking some morning java. I had just scoured the house looking for my p...
Monday, November 14, 2011
Scientist or Mess Maker? All in the perspective you hold, GLAD mine has changed!
Just yesterday morning I was sitting in my kitchen with my husband drinking some morning java. I had just scoured the house looking for my pumpkin spice creamer. I had splurged on this creamer because it is oh so yummy in my coffee, and it called to me from the grocery shelf. I looked all through the refrigerator to no avail. I said to Carl, where oh where is my pumpkin spice creamer. I don't want much in this life, just my pumpkin spice creamer. I don't know what to tell you dear. Sigh. Maybe Daniel put it in the trash. Ever since he figured out how to open the trash can, he does like to be helpful, and when given the simple instruction "Can you throw that in the trash" he will do it. However, he has also been enjoying throwing other things in the trash, and of course, I had emptied the trash last night. I did pause for a minute, thinking, oh, I so want that creamer, it is sealed in that container after all, should I paw through the trash? No, I did not paw through the trash.
While lamenting my lack of creamer, I glanced into the dining room. What did I see? My little man had figured out how to pull the chair just enough away from the table to climb up onto the table, and was intently looking at something. I said, Carl, shhhhh, look at him. So we proceeded to watch Daniel. He very carefully picked up the salt shaker, tipped it upside down, and watched the salt pouring out of the salt shaker. After a sufficient amount of salt came out, he proceeded to the pepper shaker, only to realize this did not come out as quick, and lost interest. He did not bang the shakers down, even the one he could get barely anything out of. He then decided to push the salt around, then of course, came the tasting, which, is somewhat gross, if you have every tried to even gargle salt for a sour throat, YUCK!
At this point Carl and I were smiling like hyenas from the Lion King. Our boy is brilliant. We were talking about his ability to transfer information, and apply it to himself. We even started to laugh and cackle at the fact that Daniel came up with these ideas on his own. We finally got up, went into the dining room and began to congratulate him on his stellar experiment with the salt. What a great climber he was, and boy, did that salt look like Popham Beach sand or what? I got him his milk cup, and said, drink this. He did, but he also thought it was a good idea to bend the end of his sippy cup and mix it with the salt on the table. The mixing of two compounds is for sure higher order thinking, oh yes, we were so very proud.
I did chuckle at us.
We didn't even consider caring about the mess.
We didn't consider it to be a mess.
We weren't worried for his safety as he climbed, knowing the floor isn't that far away. And did you know kids can fall 3X their height and won't get hurt. I was told that by an ER nurse. Another story.
For a split second I did think, oh, my favorite blueberry ware shakers, but that drifted in and out of my mind so very quickly as I saw the adventure and curiosity in his eyes as he watched that stream of salt flowing onto the table.
I did quickly formulate a lesson to show him a comparison/contrast between salt and sand at a later date.
Oh, how fun are my Sunday mornings when I can look at life through a 16 month olds eyes, and choose to be amazed along with him!
Thank goodness I love even the messy, I mean, scientific, teachable moments!
Happy Learning to all the parents out there!
Love,
Julie
While lamenting my lack of creamer, I glanced into the dining room. What did I see? My little man had figured out how to pull the chair just enough away from the table to climb up onto the table, and was intently looking at something. I said, Carl, shhhhh, look at him. So we proceeded to watch Daniel. He very carefully picked up the salt shaker, tipped it upside down, and watched the salt pouring out of the salt shaker. After a sufficient amount of salt came out, he proceeded to the pepper shaker, only to realize this did not come out as quick, and lost interest. He did not bang the shakers down, even the one he could get barely anything out of. He then decided to push the salt around, then of course, came the tasting, which, is somewhat gross, if you have every tried to even gargle salt for a sour throat, YUCK!
At this point Carl and I were smiling like hyenas from the Lion King. Our boy is brilliant. We were talking about his ability to transfer information, and apply it to himself. We even started to laugh and cackle at the fact that Daniel came up with these ideas on his own. We finally got up, went into the dining room and began to congratulate him on his stellar experiment with the salt. What a great climber he was, and boy, did that salt look like Popham Beach sand or what? I got him his milk cup, and said, drink this. He did, but he also thought it was a good idea to bend the end of his sippy cup and mix it with the salt on the table. The mixing of two compounds is for sure higher order thinking, oh yes, we were so very proud.
I did chuckle at us.
We didn't even consider caring about the mess.
We didn't consider it to be a mess.
We weren't worried for his safety as he climbed, knowing the floor isn't that far away. And did you know kids can fall 3X their height and won't get hurt. I was told that by an ER nurse. Another story.
For a split second I did think, oh, my favorite blueberry ware shakers, but that drifted in and out of my mind so very quickly as I saw the adventure and curiosity in his eyes as he watched that stream of salt flowing onto the table.
I did quickly formulate a lesson to show him a comparison/contrast between salt and sand at a later date.
Oh, how fun are my Sunday mornings when I can look at life through a 16 month olds eyes, and choose to be amazed along with him!
Thank goodness I love even the messy, I mean, scientific, teachable moments!
Happy Learning to all the parents out there!
Love,
Julie
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
I could get used to this
On Monday I received a phone call from the Adult Literacy office asking me to speak at a volunteer function that was kicking off a community focus on a volunteerism collaboration between UMaine and United Way and some other organizations. I was also just recently asked to be part of the training program that trains tutors for Adult Literacy and English as a Second Language. The time required was approximately 18 hours a year of teaching time, I would be teaching 3 hour training sessions several times in a quarter when the tutor training was offered in the community. I have been a tutor for almost 4 years now, the last year has been in snippets of time since I have Daniel. I was honored to be called to speak at this event this past Friday, and got really excited about it.
The funny thing about me is I was one of those kids afraid of my own shadow. When my mother would introduce me to people I would hide behind her, and would do this even when I became TALLER than my mother. I remember having to get up in front at the church with a group of children and sing. I hung my head the whole time. I begged my mother to not make me go up there, she wasn't listening. I also was a kid who could not read out loud fluently until I was in the 7th grade. I had great comprehension, spent many hours out in the hall way speed reading, watching a projector screen on the wall, trying to get the words out. I was petrified to get in front of my peer group to the point of hyperventilating even at the mention of the possibility of speaking in front of my peer group at school. I would lay my head on my desk, get a throbbing headache, someone would lead me down the nurses office, I would loose sight in one eye, see spots, my left side would go numb, my Mom would come and take me home. I would cry, Mom pray for me, my head is going to explode. It was terrible. She would, then get me water and tylenol, and I would go to bed, wake up the next day and be exhausted. The cycle began in about 4th grade and did not end until the middle of 7th grade.
As I prepared for Friday, many things went through my mind. I usually touch briefly on my childhood, and how I would have never dreamed what I was about to do to be possible. And that people would want to hear me speak? or think I was actually good at it? I know, Bill, I can hear you through the computer screen as you read this! I was also struck by the other thoughts that were going through my mind as well, thoughts that I had not yet grappled with since my "return home" after having Daniel.
Thoughts like, I could get used to this.
What could I get used to?
Well, for one, I got to get ready with no interruptions. Carl had taken the day off after an extremely bad night with Daniel and no sleep. We aren't sure why he got up every 45 minutes to an hour, maybe the 7 teeth coming in at once, 4 being molars, or maybe he was cold. Either way, the family leave day came in handy. I was able to shower, blow dry my hair!!!, put on make up, AND wear tights with a nice skirt and cool jacket and I wore my daughters boots, which are really cool. The whole ensemble, was, well, cool, hip, happening, NOW! My sister stopped by and saw me, could not believe I had no sleep, and how good I looked, all hip looking and all. The hair, awesomeness, she told me. The vibe, so COOL!
I proceeded to my speaking arrangement. I was not the keynote, but I was one of three, and I had prepped 5 points to cover, sharing my personal experience with volunteerism in literacy, what changed in me as a result, what I noticed about me in the process. I must say, I know this may sound a wee bit prideful, please forgive me, but I AM a good speaker. I can formulate a topic well, make it interesting and real, I feel genuinely for any topic I am speaking on at the moment, or I wouldn't bother to say anything at all, I have a good sense of humor and eye contact. After the end of the engagement, someone from Literacy Volunteers came to me and said I am so glad I was here to hear you speak. She also made a follow up call to let me know that what I had said spoke to quite a few people in the crowd. Amazing. I almost couldn't believe what she was saying.
I left after doing my part. As I walked out to the car, I thought, do I really need to go home right now? Isn't there somewhere I could go looking as good as I do right now? Fortunately my husband had driven me there, did some errands (my sister was at the house watching Daniel) and was picking me up. He is my constant reminder we have NO MONEY! Doesn't matter how good you look, we can not go and spend any money, considering the gas we are spending tomorrow to go to Cumberland for Kristen's cross country meet.
I began to pout.
Sigh.
No Money.
The battle cry of my life that I am SICK of hearing. That's IT! I want money and I want it now. No date while I am looking this hot? Are you crazy???? What's another $20 bucks? Come on, lunch at OLIVE GARDEN would be awesome, and don't I deserve it, after all. I was just up all night with my boy, I just spoke, I look good, and quite frankly, I NEED a break. I NEED to sit and be waited on.
Alright, that's it, I am getting a job.
It was okay leaving Daniel. With my sister. After all she IS family. Not like he is going to get stuck in a daycare. It feels good to look good, right? I mean, when IS the last time I spent this much time on ME? And, can't I make the world a better place being out in that world using my God given talents of teaching and speaking, I mean, come on. Babies have no sense of time anyway, a week is like a day is like an hour. How would he even KNOW, really, that I wasn't there. And I am sick of sacrificing, having no money for my own date night. Being totally psyched when I get Hannaford gift cards from my dear sweet friends so I can GET groceries. Or having the heat on 60 degrees, layering my son in long johns so we aren't cold during the day. I mean, aren't all these reasons good enough to leave and get a job?
It is amazing what can go through the mind in a matter of 5 minutes when a person is told no.
Carl said, what are you thinking about? Oh, nothing worth repeating.
And then I got home.
Those tights, well, they started getting uncomfortable. I changed into my 1 pair of jeans that I would wear in public. That jacket, very pretty with the skirt, but a bit unpractical for nursing my boy in.
And then I saw HIM.
Arms up in the air the moment he heard the door open, coming around the corner, with the biggest smile on his plump little face, MOMMA, MOMMA, MOMMA! Louder and Louder and Louder. I pick him up, his arms wrap around my neck, he is kissing ME. MOMMA, MOMMA, MOMMA! Do you want to snuggle, I ask. (Our cue for nursing). He keeps hugging me. We go up stairs and snuggle, he falls asleep on our bed, and remains that way for an hour or 2. The cutest little smile on his face. He is one happy boy. He has his Momma, and all is right in Daniel's world.
So, I am glad I did not rant on my husband about the fact we didn't go on a date when I was looking so good. I am grateful for ladies who care and give me gift cards. Hey, I live in Maine, I am tough, and yes, we do turn the heat above 60 when it gets super cold out or we have company. It is only money, our other battle cry over the past year and a half when the furnace blew up, the washer machine broke, the pipes froze in the back room. Our plan of being out of debt in 3 years, ain't happening.
But that plump little face.
Those outstretched arms.
That Momma, or DA.
Melts us both every time and refocuses us.
Yes, the sacrifice is worth it. The stretching of finances, is worth it. That smile.
The cuddling that will soon be over.
It truly is all GOOD.
Love Love Love.
Julie
The funny thing about me is I was one of those kids afraid of my own shadow. When my mother would introduce me to people I would hide behind her, and would do this even when I became TALLER than my mother. I remember having to get up in front at the church with a group of children and sing. I hung my head the whole time. I begged my mother to not make me go up there, she wasn't listening. I also was a kid who could not read out loud fluently until I was in the 7th grade. I had great comprehension, spent many hours out in the hall way speed reading, watching a projector screen on the wall, trying to get the words out. I was petrified to get in front of my peer group to the point of hyperventilating even at the mention of the possibility of speaking in front of my peer group at school. I would lay my head on my desk, get a throbbing headache, someone would lead me down the nurses office, I would loose sight in one eye, see spots, my left side would go numb, my Mom would come and take me home. I would cry, Mom pray for me, my head is going to explode. It was terrible. She would, then get me water and tylenol, and I would go to bed, wake up the next day and be exhausted. The cycle began in about 4th grade and did not end until the middle of 7th grade.
As I prepared for Friday, many things went through my mind. I usually touch briefly on my childhood, and how I would have never dreamed what I was about to do to be possible. And that people would want to hear me speak? or think I was actually good at it? I know, Bill, I can hear you through the computer screen as you read this! I was also struck by the other thoughts that were going through my mind as well, thoughts that I had not yet grappled with since my "return home" after having Daniel.
Thoughts like, I could get used to this.
What could I get used to?
Well, for one, I got to get ready with no interruptions. Carl had taken the day off after an extremely bad night with Daniel and no sleep. We aren't sure why he got up every 45 minutes to an hour, maybe the 7 teeth coming in at once, 4 being molars, or maybe he was cold. Either way, the family leave day came in handy. I was able to shower, blow dry my hair!!!, put on make up, AND wear tights with a nice skirt and cool jacket and I wore my daughters boots, which are really cool. The whole ensemble, was, well, cool, hip, happening, NOW! My sister stopped by and saw me, could not believe I had no sleep, and how good I looked, all hip looking and all. The hair, awesomeness, she told me. The vibe, so COOL!
I proceeded to my speaking arrangement. I was not the keynote, but I was one of three, and I had prepped 5 points to cover, sharing my personal experience with volunteerism in literacy, what changed in me as a result, what I noticed about me in the process. I must say, I know this may sound a wee bit prideful, please forgive me, but I AM a good speaker. I can formulate a topic well, make it interesting and real, I feel genuinely for any topic I am speaking on at the moment, or I wouldn't bother to say anything at all, I have a good sense of humor and eye contact. After the end of the engagement, someone from Literacy Volunteers came to me and said I am so glad I was here to hear you speak. She also made a follow up call to let me know that what I had said spoke to quite a few people in the crowd. Amazing. I almost couldn't believe what she was saying.
I left after doing my part. As I walked out to the car, I thought, do I really need to go home right now? Isn't there somewhere I could go looking as good as I do right now? Fortunately my husband had driven me there, did some errands (my sister was at the house watching Daniel) and was picking me up. He is my constant reminder we have NO MONEY! Doesn't matter how good you look, we can not go and spend any money, considering the gas we are spending tomorrow to go to Cumberland for Kristen's cross country meet.
I began to pout.
Sigh.
No Money.
The battle cry of my life that I am SICK of hearing. That's IT! I want money and I want it now. No date while I am looking this hot? Are you crazy???? What's another $20 bucks? Come on, lunch at OLIVE GARDEN would be awesome, and don't I deserve it, after all. I was just up all night with my boy, I just spoke, I look good, and quite frankly, I NEED a break. I NEED to sit and be waited on.
Alright, that's it, I am getting a job.
It was okay leaving Daniel. With my sister. After all she IS family. Not like he is going to get stuck in a daycare. It feels good to look good, right? I mean, when IS the last time I spent this much time on ME? And, can't I make the world a better place being out in that world using my God given talents of teaching and speaking, I mean, come on. Babies have no sense of time anyway, a week is like a day is like an hour. How would he even KNOW, really, that I wasn't there. And I am sick of sacrificing, having no money for my own date night. Being totally psyched when I get Hannaford gift cards from my dear sweet friends so I can GET groceries. Or having the heat on 60 degrees, layering my son in long johns so we aren't cold during the day. I mean, aren't all these reasons good enough to leave and get a job?
It is amazing what can go through the mind in a matter of 5 minutes when a person is told no.
Carl said, what are you thinking about? Oh, nothing worth repeating.
And then I got home.
Those tights, well, they started getting uncomfortable. I changed into my 1 pair of jeans that I would wear in public. That jacket, very pretty with the skirt, but a bit unpractical for nursing my boy in.
And then I saw HIM.
Arms up in the air the moment he heard the door open, coming around the corner, with the biggest smile on his plump little face, MOMMA, MOMMA, MOMMA! Louder and Louder and Louder. I pick him up, his arms wrap around my neck, he is kissing ME. MOMMA, MOMMA, MOMMA! Do you want to snuggle, I ask. (Our cue for nursing). He keeps hugging me. We go up stairs and snuggle, he falls asleep on our bed, and remains that way for an hour or 2. The cutest little smile on his face. He is one happy boy. He has his Momma, and all is right in Daniel's world.
So, I am glad I did not rant on my husband about the fact we didn't go on a date when I was looking so good. I am grateful for ladies who care and give me gift cards. Hey, I live in Maine, I am tough, and yes, we do turn the heat above 60 when it gets super cold out or we have company. It is only money, our other battle cry over the past year and a half when the furnace blew up, the washer machine broke, the pipes froze in the back room. Our plan of being out of debt in 3 years, ain't happening.
But that plump little face.
Those outstretched arms.
That Momma, or DA.
Melts us both every time and refocuses us.
Yes, the sacrifice is worth it. The stretching of finances, is worth it. That smile.
The cuddling that will soon be over.
It truly is all GOOD.
Love Love Love.
Julie
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
I am turning Hippie, and I certainly wasn't raised that way!
Why would I say I am turning hippie and I wasn't raised that way? Maybe hippie isn't the right word. Relaxed? Maybe, not sure.
Well, for one, my mother lived and breathed by the teachings of Dr. Spock. She still talks about him like he is the god of parenting and all parents should read his book. We would be better off if there were more Dr. Spock babies in the world. She was very very very schedule oriented. Every moment had a purpose, and every second was accounted for, no time to waste. Chop, Chop.
My sister and I jokingly refer to our childhood home as the "house with no dirt". I actual remember once cleaning for my mother because she had hurt her wrist and the water I used to wash her floor, mind you, this was washing on hands and knees, was clean when I was done. I laughed and laughed with my mother about that. I told her how funny it was to clean a house that wasn't dirty. She was proud of that. We had a good laugh about the floor water. Even now, when I call my Mom, she is "on a mission" to clean her house. We have told her, Mom, if you stop coloring your hair and cleaning, we KNOW there is a problem.
Now, there is nothing wrong with my mother. She is perfectly content. She is happy. So, this is not at all about making anyone, or her, wrong for their choices to do otherwise than what I have chosen to do. I love my Mom, and she has been the one constant in my whole life. She will never miss anything important, ever, that includes me or my girls, and the boy. She makes things special in my family and does it well.
There used to be a day when if I knew Mom was coming to my house, I would wash down the walls, baseboards, cupboards, you name it, it got washed, and not the night before, no sir, it was the morning of. Yes, with a baby and 2 year old, Gram was coming, and it was the morning of.
Now, I just hope she is taking a really strong allergy pill. And, she does.
I used to have to have the girls freshly bathed each and every day. Buying new outfits always. Matching. They were my live American Girl dolls. Never a dirty fingernail to be found, ever. Remember, I was raised in the house with no dirt, I didn't know dirt could be in houses or on people. hahahahahaha. I do now.
I told Mom the other day I didn't bathe Daniel every day. Why do you think we circumsized him Mom? I didn't want to worry about dirt. She laughed. But not about the fact that her grandson doesn't get bathed every day. That is no laughing matter.
One thing I did do with the girls and do with the boy is that I am part of their sleep time. I don't like to part with my children. I nursed them all to sleep. I barely put Kristen in her crib. Now, Elizabeth didn't have much of a chance, since I had another little one. She did make friends with her crib. Daniel does sleep in his crib and has from day one, but Mommy is there right next to him, cuddling and nursing him to sleep. And, he actually lays in bed with us in the morning, nothing I ever did with the girls. Carl loves this time, when he is saying DADADADADADADADADADADADADA. He's still in our room in his crib. I am not in a hurry for him to go. I love hearing him breathe. I didn't get that experience with Kristen and Elizabeth. They had lovely decorated nurseries. BLAH. I wouldn't spend that kind of money ever again decorating a child's room that doesn't care. They really don't. That is more to show off to our friends how well we can decorate or how much money we have to spend on that stuff.
I now just want to lay in the wood chips with my boy and get covered. I was telling Mom about this today, and she actually said "What are wood chips?" when I explained it to her, she said, wouldn't you get dirty and drag them into your house when they get all over your clothes? Yes, Mom, and my couch is covered with them. It is awesome.
I watch bugs on the ground. I sit and watch them move, showing Daniel. We sniff the leaves. We collect acorns. Do you know the forest smells completely different than a city street? When is the last time you looked up when you were walking outside. LOOK UP next time you are out and about. Even if you are just at the mall, going from your car to the store. It is awesome when you look UP!
Oh, and my new love, finger painting. My girls watch me finger paint, and they say, Mom, you are getting all messy. Oh, that is the fun part girls, the messier, the better. Enjoy. And they do with their brother. Play dough is next. I always loved that stuff and the smell when I would play with the girls. The squishing, oh so squishy.
I get to have these conversations with Mom, and she smiles. I think she gets a kick out of me. I know she is proud of me and talks about me to anyone who will listen.
I may be a bit more bohemian for her at this point, but I think she secretly wishes she was, but she will never admit it. She has almost stopped trying to change me, just like I have almost stopped trying to change her. Almost.
Oh, and forget a schedule. I will not be tied to a schedule. If the boy is tired, he sleeps, if he is not, we go for a walk, or to the park, or just reading or playing together. I was a slave to my schedule, MY schedule. Nope, not doing it. I told my sister today I think I'm getting strange, or just too old to care. One or the other or both. She laughed, she thinks she is too. I love to talk to her about how we are both so different than our first time around being parents. It is nice we can share this time and understand where we are both coming from. Wendi has always be referenced to as the low key one. I think I have her beat now. We just came back from a walk. Daniel was asleep in the stroller. I brought him upstairs to lay in the crib. He cried. I laid him on the bed, nursed him, and that is where he is, asleep, on my bed surrounded by pillows. He will be that way for several hours. Now, the old/younger me would have said, cry it out, kid. I have things to do, dishwasher to load, floors to wash, get in that crib and stay there. Not now. I figure, how much longer am I going to get to nurse him to sleep? How much longer will he cuddle into his Momma like I am the beginning and the end?
I have an answer for that, not much longer. In the blink, a virtual blink of an eye, I will be sitting at his high school graduation with his married sisters and their kids. A virtual blink. I KNOW it goes by that fast now. You can tell someone that who has a new baby, or a two year old that is giving them fits, and it just does not register. But I know. BLINK.
So, I am enjoying the days I can with teenagers, the dirt, the wood chips, even the dog hair, (maybe not quite the dog hair :( , and I am savoring the moments with my boy.
BLINK, Blink, bLInk!
To all who love and savor,
Julie
Well, for one, my mother lived and breathed by the teachings of Dr. Spock. She still talks about him like he is the god of parenting and all parents should read his book. We would be better off if there were more Dr. Spock babies in the world. She was very very very schedule oriented. Every moment had a purpose, and every second was accounted for, no time to waste. Chop, Chop.
My sister and I jokingly refer to our childhood home as the "house with no dirt". I actual remember once cleaning for my mother because she had hurt her wrist and the water I used to wash her floor, mind you, this was washing on hands and knees, was clean when I was done. I laughed and laughed with my mother about that. I told her how funny it was to clean a house that wasn't dirty. She was proud of that. We had a good laugh about the floor water. Even now, when I call my Mom, she is "on a mission" to clean her house. We have told her, Mom, if you stop coloring your hair and cleaning, we KNOW there is a problem.
Now, there is nothing wrong with my mother. She is perfectly content. She is happy. So, this is not at all about making anyone, or her, wrong for their choices to do otherwise than what I have chosen to do. I love my Mom, and she has been the one constant in my whole life. She will never miss anything important, ever, that includes me or my girls, and the boy. She makes things special in my family and does it well.
There used to be a day when if I knew Mom was coming to my house, I would wash down the walls, baseboards, cupboards, you name it, it got washed, and not the night before, no sir, it was the morning of. Yes, with a baby and 2 year old, Gram was coming, and it was the morning of.
Now, I just hope she is taking a really strong allergy pill. And, she does.
I used to have to have the girls freshly bathed each and every day. Buying new outfits always. Matching. They were my live American Girl dolls. Never a dirty fingernail to be found, ever. Remember, I was raised in the house with no dirt, I didn't know dirt could be in houses or on people. hahahahahaha. I do now.
I told Mom the other day I didn't bathe Daniel every day. Why do you think we circumsized him Mom? I didn't want to worry about dirt. She laughed. But not about the fact that her grandson doesn't get bathed every day. That is no laughing matter.
One thing I did do with the girls and do with the boy is that I am part of their sleep time. I don't like to part with my children. I nursed them all to sleep. I barely put Kristen in her crib. Now, Elizabeth didn't have much of a chance, since I had another little one. She did make friends with her crib. Daniel does sleep in his crib and has from day one, but Mommy is there right next to him, cuddling and nursing him to sleep. And, he actually lays in bed with us in the morning, nothing I ever did with the girls. Carl loves this time, when he is saying DADADADADADADADADADADADADA. He's still in our room in his crib. I am not in a hurry for him to go. I love hearing him breathe. I didn't get that experience with Kristen and Elizabeth. They had lovely decorated nurseries. BLAH. I wouldn't spend that kind of money ever again decorating a child's room that doesn't care. They really don't. That is more to show off to our friends how well we can decorate or how much money we have to spend on that stuff.
I now just want to lay in the wood chips with my boy and get covered. I was telling Mom about this today, and she actually said "What are wood chips?" when I explained it to her, she said, wouldn't you get dirty and drag them into your house when they get all over your clothes? Yes, Mom, and my couch is covered with them. It is awesome.
I watch bugs on the ground. I sit and watch them move, showing Daniel. We sniff the leaves. We collect acorns. Do you know the forest smells completely different than a city street? When is the last time you looked up when you were walking outside. LOOK UP next time you are out and about. Even if you are just at the mall, going from your car to the store. It is awesome when you look UP!
Oh, and my new love, finger painting. My girls watch me finger paint, and they say, Mom, you are getting all messy. Oh, that is the fun part girls, the messier, the better. Enjoy. And they do with their brother. Play dough is next. I always loved that stuff and the smell when I would play with the girls. The squishing, oh so squishy.
I get to have these conversations with Mom, and she smiles. I think she gets a kick out of me. I know she is proud of me and talks about me to anyone who will listen.
I may be a bit more bohemian for her at this point, but I think she secretly wishes she was, but she will never admit it. She has almost stopped trying to change me, just like I have almost stopped trying to change her. Almost.
Oh, and forget a schedule. I will not be tied to a schedule. If the boy is tired, he sleeps, if he is not, we go for a walk, or to the park, or just reading or playing together. I was a slave to my schedule, MY schedule. Nope, not doing it. I told my sister today I think I'm getting strange, or just too old to care. One or the other or both. She laughed, she thinks she is too. I love to talk to her about how we are both so different than our first time around being parents. It is nice we can share this time and understand where we are both coming from. Wendi has always be referenced to as the low key one. I think I have her beat now. We just came back from a walk. Daniel was asleep in the stroller. I brought him upstairs to lay in the crib. He cried. I laid him on the bed, nursed him, and that is where he is, asleep, on my bed surrounded by pillows. He will be that way for several hours. Now, the old/younger me would have said, cry it out, kid. I have things to do, dishwasher to load, floors to wash, get in that crib and stay there. Not now. I figure, how much longer am I going to get to nurse him to sleep? How much longer will he cuddle into his Momma like I am the beginning and the end?
I have an answer for that, not much longer. In the blink, a virtual blink of an eye, I will be sitting at his high school graduation with his married sisters and their kids. A virtual blink. I KNOW it goes by that fast now. You can tell someone that who has a new baby, or a two year old that is giving them fits, and it just does not register. But I know. BLINK.
So, I am enjoying the days I can with teenagers, the dirt, the wood chips, even the dog hair, (maybe not quite the dog hair :( , and I am savoring the moments with my boy.
BLINK, Blink, bLInk!
To all who love and savor,
Julie
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Self Soothing?????? PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
When I was pregnant with Kristen I read every book I could get my hands on relating to baby, parenting, breastfeeding, immunizations, life after baby, the list goes on and on and on. At my baby shower my dear friend Karen Selenich did a spoof on me. It was a "roast" of sorts, all in good fun. She "played" me during the "roast". She came in the room carrying the largest travel bags, both filled to the brim with books, and a third travel bag labelled "Make-up". She was loaded down with the bags, in heavy labor, but would not part with her books, her "knowledge", and of course, looking good while do it, because, she was also not parting with her make-up bag. I laughed at the time, but knowing this was all too true.
I wasn't going to part with my knowledge, and I certainly wouldn't part with looking good.
Along came this wonderful concept of "self-soothing". Babies need to be self-soothers. They should not count on their mothers to soothe them. They should not tell you when they want to eat, you need to tell them. I set them on my schedule, because, after all, I need time to do my hair and make-up, and I need to exercise so I can look good once again. So, you there, over in that crib, if you need me for anything that is not on my created schedule, well, you will just have to "self-soothe".
I don't know about you, but I have never "self-soothed". I am not a "self-soother". At the very least, as a person of faith, I am to rely on God to soothe me right? I am to pray when I am anxious, fearing nothing? Maybe a little chocolate and caffeine thrown in to boot? How then, is my little one, over in that crib, who does not know "God", suppose to soothe herself? I am God to her. Meaning, I am the one she turns to her in her time of need. I am the one he calls out to when he is anxious. Who amongst us "self-soothes"? I can name no one.
Here is how unwell people soothe themselves:
with alcohol,
with drugs,
with shopping therapy,
with food,
with their friends,
with their children, obsessing about every little thing their child does,
with their spouses, getting married because one is afraid to be alone,
and the list can go on and on.
So when I read in these lovely books about self-soothing, I thought I had a problem with my baby because, guess what, she wanted ME! Imagine that!
She did not want a blankie, soft as it was,
She did not want a binkie, ( little plastic things put in children's mouths to stop them from eating or shut them up)
She did not want a clean diaper, however nice it must be to have one,
She did not want to be left alone for hours on end in her crib,
SHE WANTED ME!
And let me tell you, that was a shock!
A shock to this almost 28 year old who had done exactly what she wanted for almost 28 years. You mean, I had to wait on the hair? Not get the make-up perfect? No hours upon hours of exercising to make ME look good? And what about my "ME" time, what about that???? You mean this parenting thing was going to require all of me? Really, that is NOT what all the books say.
The books talk about all sorts of things that were not looking like my life with baby. Could the books be slightly inaccurate or even, gasp, wrong???? Could I possibly give up all my knowledge on the subject of baby?
On to baby #3.
HE WANTS ME. He loves his Daddy, and his loving sisters, and he loves to be held by anyone who wants to squeeze him. He loves to kiss and hug others. He waves at anyone. But,
HE WANTS ME!
There is a very special bond between these children God has entrusted to me and their Mommy. Even now, my older kids want soothing from me. They want assurance from me that they are absolutely wonderful. That I think their choices are awesome. That I think their hair looks great. They love it when I say yes to them. They want my food, initially it was breast milk, now it is the good meals they eat most every night from our table where we sit as a family.
I no longer worry about this silly concept of self soothing. Why would we expect this little creature, who only knows how to communicate through crying to let us know they have a need for comfort and food, self-soothe???? Please, it is crazy. I think it is lazy on our parts. It is a concept born out of the fact we don't want to be bothered with this thing called mommyhood. Guess what? It is all encompassing. It is all consuming. It is a LOT of work. Your day NEVER ends. Don't expect it to and you won't be disappointed! Let go of your expectations that life will resume as you know it. It never will. I was not alone anymore, it isn't all about me, and the sooner I realized this the happier I became. Truly, completely, totally happy. It is NOT about me. Awesome.
Guess What?
This just happened about 14 months ago. Yup. 14 months ago.
And how old are my kids?
Almost 16, almost 14, and 14 months old.
I am so glad for my 14 month old. I think he has made life easier for the other 2.
Blessings to all that already know it isn't about them,
Julie
I wasn't going to part with my knowledge, and I certainly wouldn't part with looking good.
Along came this wonderful concept of "self-soothing". Babies need to be self-soothers. They should not count on their mothers to soothe them. They should not tell you when they want to eat, you need to tell them. I set them on my schedule, because, after all, I need time to do my hair and make-up, and I need to exercise so I can look good once again. So, you there, over in that crib, if you need me for anything that is not on my created schedule, well, you will just have to "self-soothe".
I don't know about you, but I have never "self-soothed". I am not a "self-soother". At the very least, as a person of faith, I am to rely on God to soothe me right? I am to pray when I am anxious, fearing nothing? Maybe a little chocolate and caffeine thrown in to boot? How then, is my little one, over in that crib, who does not know "God", suppose to soothe herself? I am God to her. Meaning, I am the one she turns to her in her time of need. I am the one he calls out to when he is anxious. Who amongst us "self-soothes"? I can name no one.
Here is how unwell people soothe themselves:
with alcohol,
with drugs,
with shopping therapy,
with food,
with their friends,
with their children, obsessing about every little thing their child does,
with their spouses, getting married because one is afraid to be alone,
and the list can go on and on.
So when I read in these lovely books about self-soothing, I thought I had a problem with my baby because, guess what, she wanted ME! Imagine that!
She did not want a blankie, soft as it was,
She did not want a binkie, ( little plastic things put in children's mouths to stop them from eating or shut them up)
She did not want a clean diaper, however nice it must be to have one,
She did not want to be left alone for hours on end in her crib,
SHE WANTED ME!
And let me tell you, that was a shock!
A shock to this almost 28 year old who had done exactly what she wanted for almost 28 years. You mean, I had to wait on the hair? Not get the make-up perfect? No hours upon hours of exercising to make ME look good? And what about my "ME" time, what about that???? You mean this parenting thing was going to require all of me? Really, that is NOT what all the books say.
The books talk about all sorts of things that were not looking like my life with baby. Could the books be slightly inaccurate or even, gasp, wrong???? Could I possibly give up all my knowledge on the subject of baby?
On to baby #3.
HE WANTS ME. He loves his Daddy, and his loving sisters, and he loves to be held by anyone who wants to squeeze him. He loves to kiss and hug others. He waves at anyone. But,
HE WANTS ME!
There is a very special bond between these children God has entrusted to me and their Mommy. Even now, my older kids want soothing from me. They want assurance from me that they are absolutely wonderful. That I think their choices are awesome. That I think their hair looks great. They love it when I say yes to them. They want my food, initially it was breast milk, now it is the good meals they eat most every night from our table where we sit as a family.
I no longer worry about this silly concept of self soothing. Why would we expect this little creature, who only knows how to communicate through crying to let us know they have a need for comfort and food, self-soothe???? Please, it is crazy. I think it is lazy on our parts. It is a concept born out of the fact we don't want to be bothered with this thing called mommyhood. Guess what? It is all encompassing. It is all consuming. It is a LOT of work. Your day NEVER ends. Don't expect it to and you won't be disappointed! Let go of your expectations that life will resume as you know it. It never will. I was not alone anymore, it isn't all about me, and the sooner I realized this the happier I became. Truly, completely, totally happy. It is NOT about me. Awesome.
Guess What?
This just happened about 14 months ago. Yup. 14 months ago.
And how old are my kids?
Almost 16, almost 14, and 14 months old.
I am so glad for my 14 month old. I think he has made life easier for the other 2.
Blessings to all that already know it isn't about them,
Julie
Friday, August 19, 2011
Pretty VS Beautiful 100 Years Ago
Recently I was waiting for my daughter somewhere and an adult came up to my van who knew me from what I like to refer to as "100 Years Ago". She proceeded to tell me that her daughter had friended me on facebook, and as she looked through all our family pictures, the one thing that stuck out to her is she COULD NOT BELIEVE How Much Weight I had Gained. YUP! This was related to me from her Mom in front of my daughter, Elizabeth. I saw Elizabeth look at me. I am sure she was wondering HOW would her mother respond to such a comment.
Well, I didn't respond. I said nothing. I let the comment hang in the air. The woman began back peddling by saying things like, I told her you had a baby a year ago, I told her you were pregnant in some of those pics. Oh yes, it did not get better.
Now, any woman I know, and maybe some men, would be ready to kill somebody. Especially women. I know, I am stereotyping, but it is true. As a woman with now 3 kids, and someone who has always tried to look pretty, I was stunned. The wheels in my head began turning as I let the comment hang in the air.
Being Pretty was always a major focus for me. If you wanted a boy, You Must Be Pretty. If you wanted to get your way, You Must Be Charming, which is part of being pretty. If you wanted to get attention of any kind, You Must Be Pretty. One of the reasons I focused on this was I was a very homely child or, I should say, I believed I was a homely child.
Now, my Mom would disagree, but that is what us Moms would do.
I was taller than every one. I had acne before anyone did. And, quite frankly, anyone I knew did NOT have acne. I felt fat, because, being taller than everyone, you do weigh more. I had glasses, and they were not the pretty kind that is out their now. They were what my husband and I refer to as "coke bottles", meaning they just got thicker and thicker as the blindness progressed. (He was also an "ugly duckling". I think that was another thing that bonded us almost immediately upon meeting each other.)
We were NEVER COOL! And I do mean NEVER!
I remember standing in line in 4th grade to go to lunch. The girl behind me, and I still know her name, said, Julie, why is your butt so big. You know, you have a big butt. What do you say to that? Who's butt is big in 4th grade, try 9 months pregnant, but NOT 4th grade. I also remember several boys being merciless with the unkind comments. Was that you or my dog chasing the postman? That was probably the worst. I would be tormented on the bus by the older kids. Why is your sister so cute and YOU are SO UGLY? I am not exaggerating. So do you get the picture WHY I might be a wee bit focused on pretty?!
The summer proceeding my freshman year in high school I baby sat all summer long to earn $200 to buy contact lenses. My aunt paid me $40 a week to babysit her 2 kids. I was not entering high school without being pretty. Part of the plan was to get the contacts lenses, and I did. It was awesome!!! I remember the expression on the face of one of my best friends, Renee, when she saw me for the first time. I could tell she thought I was pretty. She was always pretty.
Isn't it interesting how our mind wanders from one comment between 2 people?
Fortunately for me, I can hear a comment like "Boy, you have gained a lot of weight!" and I do not return to that 14 year old girl searching for "Pretty". But, it reminds me of that girl, like yesterday. It brings a tear to my eye for that 4th grader. I know Elizabeth was waiting for me to go into a lengthy conversation about how inappropriate it is to say something like that, etc.
But I didn't.
Because, I began thinking of how I want my daughter to think about being beautiful.
Beautiful does not respond in silliness.
Beautiful knows it is silly to focus on weight.
Beautiful recognizes when someone says something they shouldn't, and
does not respond out of a chip on Beautiful's shoulder, because there is none.
Beautiful knows what pretty is looking for when she is looking at pictures.
Beautiful doesn't mind getting her picture taken, because she is with her family, of which she is blessed to have.
Pretty is worried about the hair, the make-up, the bumps, the lines. Beautiful knows they are all there for a reason.
So, that day,
Beautiful did not respond to Pretty.
I would say Beautiful is growing up.
To all my ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL friends, male and female.
Love, Julie
Well, I didn't respond. I said nothing. I let the comment hang in the air. The woman began back peddling by saying things like, I told her you had a baby a year ago, I told her you were pregnant in some of those pics. Oh yes, it did not get better.
Now, any woman I know, and maybe some men, would be ready to kill somebody. Especially women. I know, I am stereotyping, but it is true. As a woman with now 3 kids, and someone who has always tried to look pretty, I was stunned. The wheels in my head began turning as I let the comment hang in the air.
Being Pretty was always a major focus for me. If you wanted a boy, You Must Be Pretty. If you wanted to get your way, You Must Be Charming, which is part of being pretty. If you wanted to get attention of any kind, You Must Be Pretty. One of the reasons I focused on this was I was a very homely child or, I should say, I believed I was a homely child.
Now, my Mom would disagree, but that is what us Moms would do.
I was taller than every one. I had acne before anyone did. And, quite frankly, anyone I knew did NOT have acne. I felt fat, because, being taller than everyone, you do weigh more. I had glasses, and they were not the pretty kind that is out their now. They were what my husband and I refer to as "coke bottles", meaning they just got thicker and thicker as the blindness progressed. (He was also an "ugly duckling". I think that was another thing that bonded us almost immediately upon meeting each other.)
We were NEVER COOL! And I do mean NEVER!
I remember standing in line in 4th grade to go to lunch. The girl behind me, and I still know her name, said, Julie, why is your butt so big. You know, you have a big butt. What do you say to that? Who's butt is big in 4th grade, try 9 months pregnant, but NOT 4th grade. I also remember several boys being merciless with the unkind comments. Was that you or my dog chasing the postman? That was probably the worst. I would be tormented on the bus by the older kids. Why is your sister so cute and YOU are SO UGLY? I am not exaggerating. So do you get the picture WHY I might be a wee bit focused on pretty?!
The summer proceeding my freshman year in high school I baby sat all summer long to earn $200 to buy contact lenses. My aunt paid me $40 a week to babysit her 2 kids. I was not entering high school without being pretty. Part of the plan was to get the contacts lenses, and I did. It was awesome!!! I remember the expression on the face of one of my best friends, Renee, when she saw me for the first time. I could tell she thought I was pretty. She was always pretty.
Isn't it interesting how our mind wanders from one comment between 2 people?
Fortunately for me, I can hear a comment like "Boy, you have gained a lot of weight!" and I do not return to that 14 year old girl searching for "Pretty". But, it reminds me of that girl, like yesterday. It brings a tear to my eye for that 4th grader. I know Elizabeth was waiting for me to go into a lengthy conversation about how inappropriate it is to say something like that, etc.
But I didn't.
Because, I began thinking of how I want my daughter to think about being beautiful.
Beautiful does not respond in silliness.
Beautiful knows it is silly to focus on weight.
Beautiful recognizes when someone says something they shouldn't, and
does not respond out of a chip on Beautiful's shoulder, because there is none.
Beautiful knows what pretty is looking for when she is looking at pictures.
Beautiful doesn't mind getting her picture taken, because she is with her family, of which she is blessed to have.
Pretty is worried about the hair, the make-up, the bumps, the lines. Beautiful knows they are all there for a reason.
So, that day,
Beautiful did not respond to Pretty.
I would say Beautiful is growing up.
To all my ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL friends, male and female.
Love, Julie
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