The Best of Us

Sometimes I look at my daughter and I think about how similar we are. My husband often says things like, "I wonder where she gets that from," often following a bout of hardheadedness. It's been made clear by him and all parties that produced him that her strong-willed nature comes from my genes!

I remember vividly telling my mother that I needed to make my own mistakes - that I simply couldn't and wouldn't just take her word for it. I needed to "learn for myself." As an adult, I see how positively idiotic that was.

"Oh, the fire is hot you say? I better just check for myself."

And I made a lot of dumb mistakes. I experienced heartache that could've been avoided and spent more time being grounded than I had to.

While I hope it is not an indicator of the teen years, this is already starting with my daughter. At nearly three, she already says, "let me just see." Before I can even get out the full instruction she cuts me off.

"Layna, dont -"

"No, no, Mama," she says cutting me off. "Let me just see."

Sometimes she takes it even a step further suggesting her own plan.

"You cannot have your fruit until you finish your dinner."

"No, no, Mama. How bout I have my fruit with my dinner. That be fun?"

Strong will: Team Mom.

She has been playing "house" a lot - going to the store, making dinner, making tea, taking care of her "babies," etc. The other day we all sat down to tea and she started say grace. It went like this:

“Yowd, bess (Lord, bless)... uh oh, where are the noonles (noodles)?!"

My prayers are like that 90% of the time, too.

Multi-tasking Mindset: Team Mom

Other times I think we're nothing alike. Like when I ask her if she's ready to eat and she says, “I don’t want dinner I’m still full from lunch.”

...who did you come from?

At 14 months, I'm starting to see some distinct traits in my son. From the get-go we had no idea who he looked like (aside from any character in "Grumpy Old Men") though as he grows he bears some family resemblance.

As seen by his jabs at his sister, he has inherited the teasing gene. Whether it's pulling her hair, poking her, or throwing her animals off of her bed, he has no problem getting a rise out of his sister.

Intentional antagonizing, i.e. "teasing": Team Dad.

When introduced he puts on a positively stoic air. He will drill you with unamused eyes while you ooh and ahh and goo-goo-ga-ga him (because now that he's outgrown his nose crease he's quite handsome) but he will not break until he has taken in all of his surroundings and you have earned his trust.

Thoughtful mind (and handsome looks): Team Dad.

For better or worse these children will take parts of us with them throughout this life. Parenting is funny like that. All of a sudden you find yourself reliving what you or your spouse must've been like as a child. I'm personally hoping that (aside from teasing) that Dad gene is in there pretty strong. For now, we watch in awe as they grow into little people and continue to pray we pass on the best of us. 

Myth or Fact?

"It'll be so nice that they're close in age!"

"They are going to best friends."

"It's hard at first, but it will be worth it!"

True? Or the same merit as "It's good luck to have it rain on your wedding day?" cause I got that one, too.

Here is what I see from the "boots on the ground" perspective: my daughter tackling my son to the ground. I see her dragging him by his arms and on his belly across the floor. I see her trying to ride him like a pony as he tries to crawl away. I see her walk past him and bump him with her shoulder so that his still fragile stance easily falls over. I see her grab his lovey from him and adopt it as her own. I hear her say "no, no, no" and mother him to death. I hear her plug her ears and scream, "It's too loud! It's too loud!" as he cries.

My son is usually a passive participant, simply reacting to her "affection." But he gets his digs in when he can. He's been trained to screech the second she gets within an inch of him. Last night he randomly approached her and pulled her hair. If she's particularly moody he will waddle his way right up to her and poke her. "Da," he says. His word for everything, but here I imagine it to be taunting in tone. She responds exactly the way he wanted and shrieks to high heaven. He waddles away with his two bottom teeth showing, pleased with his performance.

Two weekends in a row, we were lucky enough to have some grandparent sleepovers. A couple of weeks ago they went to Gigi and Pop Pop's, and both of them went despite my daughter's sentiments that they were "her Gigi and Pop Pop, no Josiah's." Last weekend, my daughter spent the night with my in-laws, and we were told in no uncertain terms that she wanted to go alone. 

"No Josiah tum." Josiah is not coming. 

"Nayna go Granmom Granpop's, no Josiah." Layna is going to Grandma and Grandpa's. Josiah is not.

"I go alllllll by myself." ...that seems clear.

The surprise of the century was when we all reunited the next day and she said "Josiah, I miss you so bad."(I will show it by stealing your cheerios and knocking you to the ground.)

So, perhaps all the hard is now, and all the benefit is later, and this is just a forced lesson in delayed gratification.

My brother are and I are 18 months apart, which means I do have some idea about the benefits of siblings close in age. The fact that we were completely opposite in high school didn't stop me from trying to tag along and/or steal his friends completely. We crossed the lines of dating each other friends, and I even ended up marrying one. (That fact is going to make me interview my kids friends with even greater intensity.)

Now, because we are both reasonable adults, we are much more similar. We even share some hobbies, like running. We still have some seriously notable differences: I majored in Public Relations, he will soon graduate with a PhD in Applied Mathematics. (What?) Nonetheless, we stay in touch, and enjoy hanging out when we get a chance.

So I see glimpses of hope that these statements might ring true. But here's to being hopeful that I don't have to wait 28 years to know for sure...

Keeper of the Forgettable

My husband pulled out his phone the other day and showed me a video he came across from a couple of years ago. My daughter, 9 months old at the time, was snoozing away in her infant car seat. We had arrived at her grandparents and were trying to stir her awake. Her eyelids fluttered before she resumed her slouched, head hung position resting in oblivion. My husband and I "ooh-ed" and "ahh-ed" in the background as first-time parents do for some time. She simply couldn't bring herself to open her eyes long enough to completely rejoin us yet.

Fast forward to our nearly three-year-old singing the ABC's in her bed at 10 p.m. In this season, it's hard to believe she ever had less than 100% energy. 

That video made me remember a moment that otherwise would've been forgotten. It wasn't specific enough to make a memory that lasts well into the later years of life. It was just an adorable moment that we caught on video thanks to the smartphone epidemic. Calling it "forgettable" makes it seem unimportant, but the fact is there's a filtering process that allows you to remember a first birthday more than random Wednesday.

There are a lot of things to dislike about smartphones. They are distracting, costly, and can serve as another unneeded venue to waste time watching TV or videos. The amount of accidents caused by smartphone use while driving is disturbing. The list price of your smartphone may be equivalent to that of a monthly mortgage payment. The effects of too much screen time, phones included, for children cannot be ignored. 

And yet, without them, I wouldn't have remembered that adorable moment with my baby girl. I would remember the collection of adorable moments and the sweet slope of her nose and mischievous, snaggle-toothed grin. But I wouldn't have remembered the moment we pulled into my in-laws driveway where she so cutely tried to stir awake. 

I wouldn't have the video of her first time rolling over, because it happened so quickly I barely had time to open my camera app, let alone boot up a camcorder. 

I wouldn't have a record-breaking number of photos from her first year of life. 

Without the pictures for proof, I might have thought I exaggerated just how much she had her tongue sticking out. (Every. Single. Picture.) 

There's something to be said about not parenting behind a screen. I get that. There have been many moments that I try to just "be" and experience it instead of capturing it. But so many times in my three years of parenting I have been grateful for the ease of capturing a hilarious dance, an infectious smile, or a sweet, sleeping face. 

Thanks to smartphones, I have a clear picture of every single day that little girl made me a mama that first year. And I am grateful for that. 

I'll be the first to admit that I have significantly less pictures of my son's first year. This makes me so sad, but also makes so much sense that I'm not sure I could change it even if I got to relive it. There are less pictures taken when you have divided attention 95% of the time. Don't get me wrong, I still have a ton of pictures. A ton. It's just less. 

I caught what I assume was his first time rolling over, on the second go-round. 

The moments when I tried to capture something cute were often invaded by a blur that is his older sister. 

There are more pictures of him confined by a bouncy seat, exersaucer, or bumbo... for his own protection. 

But his sweet smile is still plastered all over my 64GB iPhone. His first year and beyond is still overloading my additional iCloud storage. I still have his epic dance moves available at the touch of a finger. And for all its faults, I am grateful for the technology that allows me that freedom. The freedom to relive those otherwise "forgettable" moments we are often too tired, overwhelmed and overbooked to commit to long-term memory. 

So for that, and not for my inflated phone bill, I thank you, Apple. 

A Wonder Woman in Yoga Pants

Ah, Wonder Woman. If I had to dress up for Halloween, and I won't, I would probably select Wonder Woman. I don't know if you've seen the movie, but if not, you should. I did not fall asleep before the movie's 11 p.m. ending. From a tired mama, there is no higher praise.

What is it about this movie that kept me so captivated?

1. It's hilarious. I laughed heartily on more than one occasion and found the relationship between Gal Gadot and Chris Pine completely endearing.

2. It makes you feel like you like you, too, can be stunning and indestructible.

3. It makes you believe there are people who still care about saving the world. (Even if it's a bit unreasonable to think that said person will arrive scantly clad in knee high boots, a metal headband, and minimal clothing between them.)

But this is not a Wonder Woman review. (Seriously, though, watch it.) It's a testament to the innate desire to be both beautiful and fierce, kind and relentless, mother and warrior. Maybe that doesn't resonate with you, but for me, it reminded me that I want to be all those things and more. And better yet, that I can be.

One of the best scenes in the movie is when she is walking around London hiding her warrior wardrobe with a trench code and she asks exasperated, "What do these women wear into battle?" Followed closely by, "*gasp* A baaaabbyyyy" as she runs off to see it. A clear picture of a woman ready to take on anything to stand for what she believes in, yet cannot deny her desire to nurture and comfort.

In our culture, sometimes it feels like we've confused meek with weak; humble with insecure; gracious with pushover. If we serve our husband, we're doormats. If we're modest, we're uptight. If we value cooking, cleaning, and child-rearing we are positively stuck in the middle ages.

And yet... if we work too hard, we neglect our children. If we're opinionated, we're *ahem* witchy. If we're too revealing, we're tacky. If we order take out every night, we're poisoning our young.

Does anyone else feel like there's no better time to stop worrying about the societal approval process?

I believe that most women, mothers or not, desire to be heard, validated, and to make her mark in whatever corner of the world she is tackling. And I get that. I respect it even if she's doing it completely differently than I would. Because sometimes it's just hard enough to figure out what the heck we're doing.

I'm not running around in revealing armor, but that doesn't mean I'm not fighting. I fight every day to disciple my kids well; to show them what it means to love; and to exercise patience and grace. I fight to keep right priorities and not settle for less than I was made for. I fight to believe that I am equipped to live a life that matters, and that I can teach my kids the same. I just do it wearing practical yoga pants.

If You're Looking for a Laugh...

Thanks to a wonderful response to my soliciting, I have compiled what (I think) is a pretty hilarious montage of quotes from children of all ages. I was taken aback by the number of hilarious (and inappropriate) things that came up. So for your laughing pleasure: 

The Classic.
"I ate 100, 200, 32, 8 bites already!" -Wegman's child that inspired this entire post.

"I can't help clean Mama. My hair is grumpy and my knees are overheating. I need to rest instead." A.V. Age 3

"I'll have a root beer. Hold the root!" C.K. Age 10

"People in England speak the same language we do, just in a different font." L.S. Age 8

"Thank you for today, and thank you for everything, and Jesus, you be careful, okay?" J.R. Age 3

"I think I'll work on becoming a unicorn." K.G. Age 5

"That's just water from the trees, that's not rain." A.K. Age 2

"But I CAN'T lay down, because my hair is sticking up!" D.S. Age (almost) 3

 “Mommy, why is your hair so sparkly?” J.D. Age 4 (Because the old age fairy keeps visiting, of course.)

"Carrots have no trading value, Mom. None. Zippo." L.B. Age 13

The Mini Stories.
Q.K: "Daddy, we should buy some candy."
"Well, I don't have any extra money for candy."
Q.K: "Daddy, give me your wallet...I just want to check to make sure you haven't forgotten about any money in your wallet." 
- Q.K. Age 3 1/2

A two-year-old's attempt at asking for a bite of dinner: "bite ME!" -E.R. Age 2.5

"Aunt Ashley, are you sure there's not another baby in there?" -A.P. Age 4 when looking at her one-week-postpartum aunt.

I asked my son where the whale’s tail was in his drawing and he said “still in the crayon!” -J.K. Age 3

When my daughter introduced my husband to the neighbor: "This is Mama's friend, Dada." L.B. Age 2

My son wants a baby brother. The conversation ended like this:
"What if it is a baby sister?"
"Then that would be a bisaster!"
-M.H. Age 5

We sing a song about acorns at preschool. I asked on of my kiddos what kind of “nut” he is, a walnut, a peanut... "A pistachio!" -L.F.  Age 3 1/2 

 "Mom, what does 'pathetic' mean?" I answer that it's when someone is desperate for attention. She turns and looks back at her twin sister jumping around doing crazy things, "Yup, pathetic." J.S. Age 7 

It was super quiet in church when the woman leading songs asked us all to turn to page whatever in the music section called "breaking bread" and my middle son yelled, "Who's Freaky Fred?!" J.C. Age 3

Sometimes we overhear our son whispering or chatting quietly while playing and we'll ask him what (or who..?) he's talking to and he says, "I'm just talking to my own self." D.S. Age 4

The Not So G-Rated.
In response to seeing a bikini top for the first time. "Oh look, it is like a robe for your nipples!" Anonymous, Age 3

When your son says "crack my nuts" instead of "crack me up."

When she asked about private areas, I told her that she had a vagina. She asked if I had one too. I said 'yes' and she said, "Can I give it a high five?" -Anonymous 

"Is my 'gina getting married?" - G.C. Age 4

"When I grow up I'll have big testicles like my daddy." Anonymous 4-year-old to preschool teacher


...on that note. 

That's a wrap, folks! Thank you for giving me so many laughs. If you missed my requests for quotes, feel free to add yours in the comments!

Why We (Might) Never Get a Pet

Pets are awesome. I grew up with them, my husband grew up with them, all of our parents are animal lovers and my kids are pretty obsessed with the neighbors two dogs. When we ask my daughter if she wants a cat, a dog, or a pony (cause those are all equivalent, right?) she usually says something along the line of two cats, two dogs, and three-four-five-six ponies.

But I have adopted a very different view of pets in adulthood, and furthermore in parenthood. And I have my reasons for considering a forever "pass" on pets.

1. Pets are a crazy amount of money, time, and responsibility. It seems that for whatever reason that humans are now developing (or further recognizing) allergies, food-related illness, etc. is the same for pets. I find often in conversations about pets that people mention their diabetic-four-pills-a-day dog or their specialty diet for their overweight cat. Not to mention the horror stories of wrangling them up to administer the $500 medication (usually a conversation started by, "Oh my! Where did you get that scar across your face? That wasn't there yesterday!")

Adding up food, shelter, vet bills, medications, and the like, I can think of a million other ways to spend my life savings.

2. My neighbors, parents, and friends have them. 
Why take on all of the items above when my daughter can sprint out the door and play with the neighbors friendly puppies, safely protected by the fence between them?

All of the grandparents have cats, dogs, or both.

Surprisingly, upon further reflection, not a lot of my friends have pets. It became not-so-surprising when I realized that many of them also have young children and have come to the same conclusion of my third reason.

3. Sleep 
I don't need another potential wake up call. Sleep is sacred. SACRED. I put a lot of work into children who sleep through the night, and I depend on them doing so. The last thing I need is a 3 a.m. puppy potty break!

4. No doggy duty or cat litter here. 
I wipe a lot of butts, but I draw the line at regularly picking up poop.

5. More cleaning. 
Pets make things dirty. Whether it wet paws, a hair ball, or normal shedding, it adds to the never-ending need to clean my floors.

6. I get grossed out by pet problems. 
I gag at the thought of ticks, worms, and other skin-like issues associated with pets.

7. I'm mildly allergic.

8. I really like my running shoes. 
Let's face it, those would be the best chew toys.

Eight is a weird and unintentional number, but I'll stop there nonetheless. I would also like to point out that most of these can also apply to children. Sure, I'm not mildly allergic, not ALL of my friends have them, and it's called diaper-duty instead - but all else applies. The thing is, procreating is not the same as having a pet. Pets are not people, loving and intelligent as some may be.

Lastly (9?), why do I need a dog when fetch is my son's favorite game right now? Do I feel slightly odd saying things like, "Great job! Go get it!" and "Bring it back!" and "Good boy!"? You betcha. Do I do it anyway? Most definitely. He rewards me with two-tooth smiles and I get to watch him practice his waddling.

If we end up with a pet, one of the following things has happened:
1. I was not consulted. 
2. I was unjustly coerced.
3. I had an unforeseen influx of time, money, and a need for company. 
4. I was (naively) convinced they will be cared for by all other family members, and they live outside. 

Never say never, right?

A Mother's Guide to Decluttering, or Not

Decluttering. It seems to be a new buzzword as our society recognizes the overabundance of stuff we have - some useful, most not. It's a recurring theme, at least in my life.

Our MOPS group talked about it at our meeting last night. It's always something to be working towards, isn't it? Ridding our life of that which we do not need, and in some cases don't even want, but we hold onto anyway - applicable to both physical and emotional junk.

A wonderful element of clutter with young children: toys. Toys overrun you when you have little ones. Balls, blocks, balloons (yes, balloons have been invading my space lately); drawing pads, paint, and giant coloring books; and stuffed animals.

Oh, the stuffed animals.

I tried to downsize these after our move. I just conveniently did not unpack them all. Then one day, our daughter got into the basement and found them.

*Outrageously loud gasp and huge eyes* "Mama! My a'mils! I yuv my a'mils! Yook, is Doggy!" *Gigantic squeeze for Doggy*

Break my heart, why don't you?

So back upstairs the "a'mils" came, taking over beds, chairs, bins, and storage containers. One day, I'll collect a few of the less-loved critters again and get them to Goodwill before they are rediscovered.

The highly cleanly mentor mom (who shall remain nameless) at my table, touted the "it's just for a season" advice. However, she then readily admitted to never accepting such a "season" herself, because it made her crazy. Still, I took this to heart.

My kids will not enjoy plastic kitchens, rings on a stand, and wooden train tracks forever. (Well, maybe the train tracks, I still think those are cool.) And when the appropriate time comes, I'll box up the memories of the Minnie Mouse kitchen that made me countless cups of tea, and the chewed on board books whose four lines I read over and over, and the giant pink unicorn that still flies our children all over the house thanks to daddy's strong arms.

For just a little while longer, I think I'll dwell on this season. This season of too many toys, thanks to a loving and generous family. This season of a puzzles empty shell, because my little guy still can't figure out the second part of the process. This season of unorganized bins, because at the end of the night I don't always have the energy to put toys away, let alone into an appropriate place.

I still need to declutter some things in my life, for my sanity and my soul. But while I do, I'll focus on disposing of that which is truly unneeded rather than rushing my children to age out an especially annoying toy, and teach them about giving to others as we pass it on for memories with new families.

There is always cleaning and decluttering to do in our home and in our heart. There will always be something to let go of that will leave you feeling lighter, freer. I hope you can think of something that you can let go of today that will leave you feeling that way. As for me...*cue trash bag fluffing*

Now, where are those a'mils...