I Heart Mommy and Dad

There are days I question my parenting... Who am I kidding?! I question my parenting on daily basis! On some days my parenting is a completely dubious anomaly and I can't figure out what I did to contribute to the shaping of my children's' behavior. I can't go to a store without my kids wanting something, and more often than not they actually expect me to buy them something, whether it's a toy, chocolate milk, a book, stickers, a craft... anything! I know that at their age selfishness isn't exactly a choice, but sometimes I feel like I could be doing so much more to help curb their me-me-me's and steer them more toward a more philanthropic nature.

Then there are the days when my children seem to really think outside of themselves. Like when I am sitting with my older daughter as she falls asleep and she jumps up to get me a blanket so I can be warm, though I never mentioned being cold. Or when my son gives me the bigger half of his chocolate chip cookie, though I didn't even ask if I could have even a bite. Even my littlest girl gives me the sweetest little smiles that have no strings attached (though I'm not sure how "selfish" a seven-month-old can be). I am reminded by these little acts of honest, considerate actions my children have displayed to know that I MUST be doing something right.

Tonight I helped my oldest daughter with a homework project. She had to write a little bio for her class, describing whatever she chose to share about herself. It could include her family, her favorite colors or animals, what she liked to do, etc. I helped her with the spelling, but what she came up with was all her. There wasn't a single statement about material objects, like her toys, which was surprising. Instead, she thought to include what she liked to do, which was playing, and that she loved her mommy and dad. I know my daughter loves me, and so that wasn't the surprise. The surprise was that she chose to include it to share with her teacher and classmates, since she has never done that before. Her first responses when asked about herself usually have to do with her favorite toys, or toys she wants, or toys she "thinks" she is going to get for her birthday. It seems I must be doing something right that my daughter feels her love for her parents is an important part of herself.

Maybe I'm just over analyzing my daughter's project. Maybe not. Either way, it makes my heart happy.

A Little Village

With my husband working overseas, it can be quite overwhelming raising three kids under the age of six (it can be an overwhelming task even WITH my husband around). But it’s during these times that the old adage, “it takes a village to raise a child,” glare with blinding truth.

My oldest daughter started kindergarten this year. She’s only there for 2½ hours a day, five days a week, but so much is compressed into those days, and it’s not all just scholastic. My daughter’s teacher heavily stresses respect for self and others, and finding more pleasant approaches to handing problems other than the often pugnacious outbursts frequented by kids her age. After eight days, I have noticed my once sharp tongued daughter now asks her brother nicely to do things, like moving out of her way or to stop doing something she doesn’t like. She also has begun to look more for the good in others, like her brother, instead of continuously pointing out their faults. I myself have been working on getting her to be more sympathetic by changing how I speak and act around her, and being a decent roll model, but knowing I have the support of her teacher in helping to strengthen this behavior is encouraging. The amount of appreciation I have for her teacher’s efforts is almost breathtaking, considering I am not one to easily accept help, even from such an indirect route.

These days I often feel alone in my endeavors to raise my children. Without the huge support of my parents that I had before I moved to Washington, my stress level has gone up considerably. But if we are willing to accept help, we can find it, even if it comes from some unexpected places.

Tug-of-War

She stands in the doorway
Surveying the devastation.

The mournful wailing
Departing from the tiny body.
Books scattered,
Papery bodies left crumpled and torn.
An abandoned doll
Staring longingly at the overturned pram.
A lonely bear
Half hidden by a beat-up blue blanket.

She closes her eyes,
Distraught by the destruction.
The anger.
The hate.

The carpeted battlefield,
So warm and inviting,
Mocking her motherhood,
Ripping through her resolve.

She has lost this battle to incertitude.
But soon another campaign will ensue
And with it another chance to take back her land.

*a poem by me after a particularly stressful day of kids bickering and destroying the house

Emotional Art

I believe in my children being able to express their feelings, whether I want to deal with them or not. The last thing I want is for them to feel like they need to contain their emotions and keep them bottled up. Of course, I do believe there is an inappropriate way to express emotions, and I have tried to teach them what I consider to be the right and wrong ways. Being kids, I run into tantrums and outbursts pretty much on a daily basis, but there is always room to learn and grow, and my daughter has discovered a wonderful way to express her emotions (though she still does have semi violent outbursts now and then): drawing.

My daughter was sad because her friend wasn't outside to play with her. After expressing her upset, she sat down at the kitchen table and drew this self portrait. She is a natural artist, and draws ALL the time, but being able to use her creativity in such a way as to help manage her emotions, particularly the ones she does not enjoy feeling, is wonderful, both for her and for this already frazzled momma.

Hush-a-Bye

And the night shall be filled with music,

And the cares that infest the day

Shall fold their tents like the Arabs

And as silently steal away.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Day Is Done

When we hold our infant children close it only comes naturally to hum or sing to them and sooth all discomfort or fuss with the simple vibrations of a lullaby. I remember my mom would sometimes sing to my older daughter instead of talking to her, describing the world around her on the waves of some familiar tune. And of course I myself would find myself humming some song or another that was stuck in my head while rocking my babies to sleep. But somewhere along the lines the humming and singing became less, and now my youngest daughter, who is six months old, is the only one of my kids I actually sing to.

Tonight I got an urge to sing to my children. After baths were done, teeth brush, and bedtime stories told, I sat next to each of my kids’ beds, stroked their arms and backs, and hummed them each a lullaby. I was afraid my sudden humming might seem weird to them, and I have to admit I was a bit embarrassed at first when it came to my older daughter, who is five. But within seconds of me humming, their eyes closed, their muscles relaxed, their breathing slowed… In no more than five minutes my kids were sound asleep.

I believe tonight was the easiest bedtime I had ever experienced. Within 45 minutes I had all three children sound asleep. Absolutely no fussing, no whining, no arguing about staying in bed. Just pure relaxation and ease.

Music most definitely sooths the soul, no matter what our age is. 

Grumpy Girl

It truly is amazing how different siblings can be from one another. My older daughter and my son are like night and day (though my son has picked up some of my daughter’s more disagreeable habits, as younger siblings are inclined to do). My son is fairly easy going and accommodating. My daughter is incredibly independent, and at times her self-determination can be a bit exasperating.

I value my daughter’s strength of character, but it can sometimes lead her down a path of anger and pessimism, which I often find difficult to confront effectively. I know that I don’t respond well to anger directed at me when my emotions are already in turmoil, so I strive to keep my cool when my daughter is overheating, which is definitely easier said than done. I keep the old adage, “kill them with kindness”, firmly locked in my thoughts when faced with my daughter’s dissention, hoping beyond hope that if I can keep my wits about me I will be able to better help her get her wits about herself. But sometimes the whining can just be too much...

I have to take a moment to admit that I am no stranger to anger, and my outlook on life is not always sanguine. So when I see my daughter erupt in a fit of doom and gloom, I cringe just knowing I have greatly contributed to her actions and responses, both on a genetic level and as someone she models herself on. One would think I would be better equipped to cope with her outbursts having my own self as a precedent, but I’m not (or at least I don’t feel like I am). Instead it just breaks my heart to see her NOT enjoying her childhood to the fullest. 

No! Don't! Stop!

I have come to realize that, for me, motherhood has been taken for granted. I have been given three amazing children, and I am not even enjoying this extraordinary time in my life.

I constantly agonize over the judgments of others with regards to how I am raising my kids, which for the most part is exposed by their behavior out in public. I enjoy taking my children to the playground because they can run amuck and climb all over the equipment without attracting any disagreeable attention. But when we are at the grocery store, or the fabric store, or (shudder) someone’s home, the bad behavior radar goes on high alert, and soon every other word out of my mouth is “stop”, “no”, “don’t”. And of course, the culmination of all this high spirits hindrance is a great deal of anxiety and self-deprecation on my part.

I despise being upset with my children, and when I feel forced to raise my voice I ultimately feel disgusted with myself. In short, after these incidences I feel like a failure as a mommy. And of course the final crushing blow in all this chaos is that I begin to hate being a mom and I begin to think my kids would be better off with any other mom but me.

Getting caught up in what others MIGHT be thinking about me and my parenting methods has, in a sense, caused me to let the joys of motherhood pass me by at times. On the one hand, I am not allowing my children to enjoy their childhood and be what they are: children. And on the other hand, I am not enjoying my precious time with my children something I know very well is limited.

To be so concerned about the judgments that may or may not be there is debilitating as a parent (or just as an individual in general). I have found that if I just let it all go and allow myself to be in that moment with just my kids life is amazing. And, remarkably enough, when I am not stressing over my kids’ behavior, their behavior tends not to be so atrocious.

I’m not saying a parent should let their child run free without any rules or guidelines. As parents, we are responsible for preparing our children for adulthood, and consequently we should curb their behaviors to lead them in that direction. However, we shouldn’t base our reprimands on what be think others may be thinking, but rather we should instruct our children how we deem fit and in a way our children will respond, something of which only WE know (not a judgmental outsider).

Sometimes, we just need to so eloquently say, “I don’t give a rip!” and get on with enjoying parenthood.

Sleep Tight

It has been suggested time and time again: “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man, healthy, wealthy and wise.” And children are definitely NOT an exception to this adage. Though most “professionals” espouse the early bedtime, I have noticed that many families do not participate in the idea. I know other parents that have a difficult time with bedtime routines in general, no matter what bedtime is, and I will be the first to admit my fortune in that my children have always been fairly good about going to bed when instructed to do so. So I am not about to jump onto my high horse and wiggle my little finger in an air of condescension with regards to what everyone should or shouldn’t do when it comes to bedtime routines and actual bed times. Instead, I just need to take a moment and express the major success I have experienced with the simple act of changing my children’s bedtime.

Young children need about 15 hours of sleep a day (naps are included in this estimate), so early bedtimes just mean the opportunity to actually get those hours to recharge those batteries of theirs. And they should at least get four hours of awake time before their next excursion into dreamland.

Since moving to Spokane, Washington about a month ago, my children’s bedtime routine sort of took a fall, particularly because the sun is still up and smiling well into the evening. By 9pm it FINALLY looks like the day may have made up its mind to move over and let the night make an appearance. Before we moved my 2-year-old son went to bed around 8pm and my five-year-old around 8:30pm. When we got to Washington, both of their bedtimes somehow got pushed to about 9pm, which meant I got “me” time way too late for my liking (I’m an early to bed, early to rise kind of mommy).

Let me just interject here and say that my 2-year-old is definitely going through those infamous Terrible Twos, and he seems to have a penchant for whining even in his every day discourse. Not fun!

Last night I decided to put the bedtime routine back to rights, resulting in a bedtime for my son at 7:30pm and my daughter at 8:30pm. After my son picked his last show around 7pm (I let my kids watch a show on Netflix before bed, like Dora the Explorer or Super Why or Go Diego Go in an effort to get them to settle down a bit and also to give them an extra indication in their routine, i.e. after the show it’s bedtime), and by 7:30pm I got my son shuffled into the bathroom to brush his teeth then into his room for a bedtime story. Though he complained about not being tired, as he always does, and whined a bit (though minimal) he got to bed fairly easy and was out by about 8:10pm. My daughter is easy when it comes to bedtime, so no real differences there. But my youngest daughter, who is six-months-old, was able to get to bed around 8pm (normal for her) with pretty much my complete attention, since my son often vies for my attention when I am giving the baby mommy-time. And that’s a plus, because having my complete attention means I am able to feed her until she is full, resulting in real sleep and not just that limbo between awake and asleep. By 8:40pm I was sitting alone in the living room enjoying a quiet house!!

But the best part transpired the next day. When my son woke up, no whining! And that whining pretty much didn’t rear it’s ugly head all day! I’d have to say that has made me a true believer in early bedtimes. I have a friend who puts her children to bed around 6:30pm… I wonder what amazingness THAT early bedtime would bring!

Smart Girl

Today I had an argument with my daughter...

Mom: Mommy has such a fat tummy!
Daughter: No she doesn't.
Mom: Look at that! It's so fat!
Daughter: No it's not. It's just like it was yesterday.
Mom: Well, it was fat yesterday, too.
Daughter: No it wasn't.

Smart girl...

Doom and Gloom

For me, when I entered into the realm of motherhood, I also jumped into the abyss of fatalistic thinking. Before my children actually came into my life, I imagined that being a mom would bring spirited outings, lighthearted playtime, and cuddly downtime. Of course I knew parenthood would NOT be a piece of a cake, but one thing I wasn’t expecting when my first child so ceremoniously sprung from my loins was the creeping sensation of apprehension that I almost always have that something terrible is going to happen to my children.

We have all had that moment when our child has passed from our sight and we have absolutely no idea where they are. The rock that drops in our gut, the pummeling of our heart against our chest, the dark thoughts of kidnappers and rabid dog attacks… Not fun. The minute I lose sight of one of my children, the fatalistic thinking kicks in. And having more than one kid can really be unnerving since having to keep your eyes on two little bodies running every which way is not always an easy task. I can only imagine the mini heart attacks I’m going to experience once my third child learns to walk and explore the world on her own.

Of course, the momentary absence from our line of vision isn’t the only producer of anxiety. I have random images of unleashed dogs in attack mode dashing after my children (one reason why I DO NOT like people unleashing their dogs, no matter how “good” they claim they are). Practically every move my son takes sends my heart thrashing as memories of his split head incident are relived. Even driving with my kids in the car unsettles me as I contemplate car accidents and car problems.

Sometimes I feel like I am such a Debbie Downer with all these awful thoughts ricocheted around in my head, but I suppose it helps to keep me more observant on my, and my children’s, surroundings, and be more poised when it comes to protecting my three little munchkins. I will admit, though, that THIS was definitely not something I had expected when I became a mom, but of course, I would never give up motherhood even for an untroubled mind. 

Wordless Wednesday

Love Hurts

“I love you so much it hurts.” This romanticized line from My So Called Life has always stuck with me, despite the many years that have passed since I first heard Angela utter these seven words to Jordan. At the time I was in one of those hopeless romantic phases that seems to come with being a teenager, and that statement was something coming from a fairy tale, and possibly something that would never truly exist in the real world. But the moment I became a mother I realized that statement can be startlingly accurate.

Some days can be rather exasperating, as many of you mommies and daddies can attest to. But when the day is full of excessive tantrums and my consequential disciplining, exasperation can quickly turn in despair. After a rough night of getting shushed and talked back to by my oldest daughter, experiencing extreme outbursts from my son, and responding to a fair amount of clinginess from my baby daughter, my emotions started to run rampant on me. Having to discipline my babies, especially when it clearly upsets them, in turn upsets me. I know that being strong and standing by my warnings is part of being a good parent, but that doesn’t mean it’s an easy task.

My kids are my world, and their happiness is extraordinarily important to me. Those crocodile tears that erupt from those brilliantly blue eyes can really pull at my heartstrings, and I’ll admit I come close to tears myself. I am strong and consistent for my children, but sometimes I love them so much it hurts. 

Hush-A-Bye

As a parent, there are countless little pleasures we partake in owing to our children. One particular pleasure I enjoy is sitting with my kids until they fall asleep. My son in particular likes for me to sit with him at bedtime and naptime. My children are much like their daddy in that they are quick to fall asleep, so I only need sit there for a few minutes before the deep breathing and dreaming commence. But watching over them, like the momma watchdog that I am, gives me not only satisfaction in knowing my kids feel safe because I am there, but the gift they are allowing me to give them by letting me be there for them gives me fulfillment as a mother.

My oldest daughter no longer “needs” me to sit by her side as she falls asleep, but I still take pleasure in sitting on her bedside after she is asleep and just enjoying her peaceful presence. From the moment she was born I have been captivated at how beautiful she is, and though she sleeps sprawled across her bed with her long, flailing limbs going every which way (i.e. she isn’t a very elegant sleeper), I look at her sleeping, tranquil face and fall in love with her all over again.

My son never hesitates to ask for me to sit by him as he falls asleep. Within moments he is deep in dreamland, but watching as he quickly falls from wildly awake to serenely asleep just melts my heart.

My youngest daughter is only five-months-old and is still breastfeeding, and she seems most fond of falling asleep while feeding in the reclining position, which means more cuddling. Getting to be close and provide nourishment is always a bonus when it comes to breastfeeding, and I definitely delight in it.

I want always to be there for my children, and I believe that the simple act of being there while they are falling asleep can be such a blessing for both parent and child. Not only are they about to put themselves into your safekeeping as they make themselves the most vulnerable by going to sleep, but it’s always good to see our kids peaceful, pleasant, and passive after a long day of craziness and stress. 

Kids Will Be Kids

I am not one to easily admit my faults (just ask my husband), but I WILL confess that patience is not my strong suit once my kids reach about the age of two. When I was pregnant with my eldest daughter I knew while she was still in the womb that she would be a little firecracker, and at the oh-so-fun age of five I have yet to be proven wrong about my first impressions. When she was an infant I would have to bounce her while walking (she knew the minute I would sit down, whether it was on a couch, a rocking chair, or even the yoga ball), and while riding in the car she would literally cry for the entire drive, even if we were driving for over an hour. And yet despite all that, I would always keep my calm, which always impressed my husband (who wasn’t quite as able to keep his composure). But once she reached that ripe old age of two (and stepped so easily into the shoes of a toddler in the terrible twos), my patience began to wear thin. The same happened with my son, who went from the sweetest, most easygoing baby, to a rambunctious, non-stopping toddler that I sometimes think has been replaced with a goblin. I like to think I have quite a lot of patience with my kids, but I know I am easily pushed into the red zone of anger when their behaviors don’t quite reach my expectations.

And THAT is really what I believe anger with my kids boils down to: a let down of my expectations as to how I believe my children should act. I know I have pretty high expectations for my kids, especially my oldest daughter, who has always amazed me at how exceedingly smart and above the norm she is. But because I KNOW how much potential she has, I often let slip my mind that she IS only a kid. Thus I should expect her to act as a kid would, and not always be dismayed when she does. I often catch myself exclaiming, “You know better!” even though at the same moment I recognize that she is just a kid, and kids need repetition and can’t read minds (so they may not know what demands we are putting on them that they aren’t meeting). Often we get caught in the trap of thinking of our kids as little adults, but they aren’t. Kids are kids, and should thus be treated as such. This doesn’t mean they don’t deserve respect and dignity, it just means they are kids and so we shouldn’t be surprised when their behavior reflects that. Making my expectations known to my kids, again and again and again and again, is just something I need to keep doing as a parent. And maybe sometimes I need to look at my expectations and reevaluate whether they are even reasonable for my kids. I’m not saying to not see what they are capable of, because we all know kids are capable of so much and should thus be guided to reach their potential, but pushing too hard has never really gotten me anywhere with my kids.

I suppose instead of constantly telling my kids, “You should know better!” I should perhaps at times adopt a mantra of, “Kids will be kids!” Easier said than done, right? 

Naughty, Naughty, Naughty

When my daughter went through the “terrible twos” I felt as though her naughty behaviors would never cease. Once she finally lifted her head from the mire of limit pushing and outbursts and flashed her sweet little smile with no ulterior motives, I knew that when all seasoned parents had consistently told me, “it was just a phase,” they were right.

After my daughter got out of the “terrible twos” my son quickly took her place with such fierceness I almost began to loose the conviction that his unpleasant behaviors were indeed temporary. My sweet, innocent, lovable little boy had turned into a complete terror that was (and still is) easily encouraged by his sister’s easy humor.

The fact that my daughter has pretty much grown out of the “testing” phase is encouraging, and I know my son will eventually figure out what his (and my) limits are. But I have come to realize another encouraging point behind my son’s outbursts: his pushing the (my) limits is only a fraction of all the limits he will attempt to push when he grows up.

As a parent, I often consider my children’s imperfect conduct as flat out irritating and exceedingly trying on my patience. But in reality, who doesn’t push their limits every once in a while? True, young children seem to be on a 24/7 mission of pushing every button mom or dad has, and performing every appalling deed, so it can be a bit overwhelming. But if you think about it, we as adults have so many more venues where we can express our dissents, but our children have such a much smaller sphere of influence that we lucky ones that happen to inhabit that sphere feel constantly attacked.

Ultimately, the “terrible twos” is not just a phase. It’s definitely a more overbearing part of childhood that can really push parents to their breaking points, but though our kids learn to restrain their pushing (hopefully), they will never completely stop. And honestly, do we truly want them to completely stop pushing the limits, propelling past their comfort zones, reaching to the stars? Each person they test, whether it’s their parent, a friend, or a complete stranger, is just another person who either does or does not earn their respect and trust.

Of course, I AM writing this while all of my children are asleep and the whining and crying and screaming and fighting and tantrums have all been quieted for the night, so I can easily look upon these “terrible twos” with much more rational clarity than I do when I’m in the direct line of fire. ツ

Five Stitches

 There are times I feel extremely overwhelmed by everything I feel I “need” to do when it comes to my children, and when I actually accomplish everything I set out to do I secretly embrace the title of Super Mom. But when things happen that throw the whole Super Mom image into a swirl it can almost be earth shattering.

My middle child, who is my only son, recently had his first major incident resulting in a trip to the ER. After stumbling over his feet (something that happens quite often to my little klutz child), my son whacked his head on a display case at the store and gave himself about an inch long gash on his forehead. I don’t handle blood well, especially when it’s a lot of blood, and instead of jumping into my Super Mom persona I fell into the freaked out mom that only made matters worse by freaking out the other children. Thankfully my sister was there to pick up my slack. Without hesitation she had my son up in her arms and rushed him to the restroom, where she proceeded to clean up his wound and get it bandaged. Even after the blood was cleaned up, my stomach churned with queasiness. My two-year-old son had to ask for me before I could bring myself to come to his side. 

Once at the ER I was by my little mister's side, even through the part when he was getting his stitches (though I couldn't watch). But in my mind it still wasn't enough, since the main trauma had already happened.

That day still haunts me, not because of the blood or the stitches or the ER, but because I failed my son by not being HIS Super Mom.

I know that we are not always perfect parents, and it’s our continual striving to be perfect that makes us good moms and dad, but that moment of weakness has greatly humbled me as a mom. I just hope that next time my super hero signal flashes I am better able to answer the call.

What Part of "No" Don't You Understand?

Despite the fact that I seem to say “no” quite often, as a parent saying “no” to my children can sometimes be one of the hardest things I do.

The other day I explained to my son that if he wanted to go to a birthday party his big sister had been invited to, he had to help her pick up their toys. I’m not sure if most kids do this around the age of two, but he agreed and then proceeded to walk around the room, past the toys, and just sort of dilly-dallied around looking busy while his sister picked up all the toys. Since he didn’t pick up a single toy (and there were plenty he could have picked up), I told him he wasn’t going to go to the party. Of course he cried, and his little sad face and elephant tears always pull at my heartstrings, but I had to stick to my guns. I took my older daughter (and of course the baby, since she is still breastfeeding) to the party and left my son at home with his aunt. The entire time we were driving to the party I felt so bad for keeping my son getting to go, especially since he had been looking forward to going all day. But I also knew that I did the right thing, especially if I want my son to know that I mean what I say.

Teaching lessons to our children, like giving a punishment as a consequence to their misbehavior and following through with that punishment so they know we mean business, can sometimes be difficult, especially when it means we have to withhold something we know they would take pleasure in. But the stability we give them by keeping our word, even if it’s not to their benefit, I believe goes a long way, seeing that if we keep our word when we dole out punishments we are bound to keep our word when we promise rewards.

Stability, trust, consequences, responsibility, respect… There is so much we can impart onto our children. It’s no wonder parenting can feel so overwhelming!

Happy Birthday!!

Five years ago today I officially became a mother. To be honest, I still find myself shocked by the idea of me being a mom, and this whole life I am living can seem rather unreal at times. I  don’t always feel that I am qualified to be a mom, but the love I have for my three little monsters is so incredibly intense that I cannot imagine NOT having them in my life and not being THEIR mom.

Watching our children grow can be such a bittersweet experience. My once tiny little baby girl has grown into such a remarkable little person, and I am constantly struck by all that she is and all that she has become in just five short years. From the sheer joy expressed in her little face at seeing her friends, to genuine declarations of gratitude for gifts, my little girl is becoming a little lady, despite all her recalcitrance on my behalf.

Seeing beyond the cover of our children and getting to read their true story at times can be difficult. When I am constantly saying “stop” and “don’t do that” and “go to timeout” sometimes I lose sight of what astonishing little beings I have brought into this world. More often than not I seem to find fault in my parenting with my perpetual nitpicking, which I believe is my predominant failing as a mom. But when I see my children in action in the real world, with their peers, I am convinced that I am indeed NOT failing my children and I am truly doing an acceptable job of raising them. 

Happy Birthday Princess!!

1-2-3 Magic!

I am no stranger to unruly children. And being the huge book worm that I am, I have a good number of self-help books on children and discipline, most of which have actually been very beneficial in not only helping me manage my children better but also in putting me more at ease as a mother. The last book I read was suggested to me by a friend (which is how I come across most of my self-help books): 1-2-3 Magic by Thomas W. Phelan. In essence, I discovered the magic of counting.

I’ll admit this is in no way a new idea. It just wasn’t one I personally was using. But it has worked wonders with my children, and my sanity. Instead of distressing myself over my children’s “selective hearing” or experiencing the anxiety I would get after repeatedly explaining to my children what they were doing wrong and why it’s wrong, I have now settled on just counting, and if they are unable to correct their behavior by the count of three (a.k.a. the third warning), the consequence is time out. My children know the behaviors that are inappropriate (yes, my children even know the word “inappropriate”), so when I tell them, “That’s one!” they know what I’m talking about and they can then either choose to discontinue that behavior or set themselves up for a second warning, easy as that.

Let me tell you, this whole counting business is pretty fantastic. It keeps the punishments consistent and predictable, and the best part is it keeps my sanity in check. The irritation that inevitably arises from continually hounding my children about a particular behavior, like whining, doesn’t even show its head when I use the counting method. It’s simply magical!!

Say Cheese!!

I'm a mom, hence I'm a professional photographer. Ok, well, an amateur professional photographer. And THIS amateur professional photographer absolutely loves to photograph her babies. 

I may be biased, but I truly believe I have some amazingly beautiful and highly photogenic children. 

Their smiles can warm my heart and turn any gray day into the sunniest, most radiant day.

"The soul is healed by being with children." ~ English Proverb

Wasn't That Fun?!!

I have found that the act of planning “exciting” things for my kids to do can sometimes be way more fun then when my kids actually get to do them. As a parent, getting to experience my children’s “firsts” can be so exciting, but sometimes the reality has been disproportionate to my expectations.

The last time we went to SeaWorld was about three years ago. I thought my daughter would love seeing the dolphins and multi-colored fish, and possibly even enjoy watching Shamu do his renowned acrobatics. After listening to my daughter cry and whine for about two hours, I finally decided to just call it a day. The minute we stepped out of the park and into the parking lot she cried and screamed that she wanted to go back in. I felt like the whole outing had been a waste of time and money, and now I was stuck with a very unhappy kid. Definitely not a happy momma moment.

I enrolled my daughter into ballet when she was about three, thinking she would love to get all dressed up and frolic around with all the other little girls. Considering pretending she was a ballerina was already a favorite pastime, I figured the class would be a big hit. After the first class, she never really cared to go back. She hardly paid attention in the class as it was, and after the five weeks were over she didn’t even seem to notice that we had stopped going. Undeniably not how I expected that experience to transpire.

The first time we took my older daughter to Disneyland she was about three-and-a-half (her brother was about one-and-a-half). I was so excited for her first Disneyland experience, but when we got there, she lasted about an hour then wanted to go home. All day I got to hear, “Can we go home now?” Even getting to see the Disney Princesses wasn’t as exciting as it was for me (I started getting all emotion waiting in line thinking she was going to be so eager to see them). Afterward, I was worried I had ruined any chance of her “love” for Disneyland by taking her at too young an age and giving her unpleasant memories of the place. Thankfully our second Disneyland trip (about a year later) was a VERY enjoyable experience, dispelling all previous doubts of my daughter’s love for Disneyland.

My kids just recently got to experience their first train ride. I thought for sure they would love to sit in the fast moving train and watch the scenery fly by, but after about ten minutes they were ready to get off, and we still had just under an hour left until we reached our destination.

Most of my disappointing firsts have been with my older daughter. Since she is my first (THAT first has not been a disappointment), and since she’s also a very opinionated little person, it’s through her I have learned most of what I understand and expect from my children.

I have come to appreciate a child’s response to various situations and activities as uniquely their own, and that different kids take pleasure in new experiences at different stages in their life. I do believe that my daughter would enjoy SeaWorld if we were to go now, and I KNOW she enjoys Disneyland now. I believe she would enjoy doing ballet classes now, though I think she would enjoy doing gymnastics more (since I have opened my eyes more to the person she is and to the activities she likes most). I have always been one to tolerate others and their differences. Why I have had a hard time granting my children the same curtsey simply baffles me. But allowing my children to be who they are, instead of who I want them to be, has been the most humbling, and yet incredibly rewarding, lesson I have learned as a mother.

"Mommy, what does 'more' mean?"

I have a degree in English, and I consider myself to have a pretty good vocabulary, but when my four-year-old comes up to me and asks me what certain words mean, sometimes I find myself at a loss as to how exactly to explain them to her. That “pretty good vocabulary” of mine seems to put me at a disadvantage since it’s the big words I always know, and it’s usually WITH big words that I use to define those other big words. Like most mom’s I do enjoy playing games with my kids, but the game of “what does that mean” isn’t exactly one of my favorites if it's the result of me defining word after word because I keep giving her words she doesn’t know.

Perhaps I should invest in a children’s dictionary now instead of waiting until my kids can actually read and use one themselves…

Of course, the challenge in figuring out how to define a word so a four-year-old understands it has been a whole new game in itself, and one I never really thought about before I had kids, but one I find rather enjoyable. However, I can only imagine the games of “Mom, Why is the Sky Blue” and “Mom, How Many Stars are in the Sky” I know I’ll face in the not so distant future. One step at a time! Before I know it I’ll be playing the games that require me to relearn everything I once learned in school, but can not now remember.

But of course, I would never trade any of this because motherhood has been the best adventure I have ever embarked on. 

"Mommy, I can spell your name!"

When my four-year-old daughter came up to me and told me she could spell my name, I was eager to hear it, not only because my name is eight letters long but also because every day she is amazing me at what new words she can spell (she can already spell her brother and sister’s names in addition to her own). So to my response of, “Really?!!” she proceeded to spell, “M-O-M-M-Y!” Ha! She got me there!! But in all reality, I suppose that IS my name, because since she was born that has been exactly who I am: mommy.

I’ll admit that when my daughter came screaming into this world, I wasn’t exactly equipped to be a mom (who really is when they have their first child?), but what surprised me most was that it actually took me a couple of weeks to really feel the “mom” role. It even took me a few days to really bond with my daughter, much to my dismay. I had always wanted a daughter that I would be as close to as I am with my own mom (which is REALLY close), and the fact that I had to work for that first connection really threw me. But then again, the whole motherhood thing in the beginning never felt real, and when it did finally settle in and hit me, that connection finally seemed to materialize out of nowhere. 

That delayed bond worried me to no end, especially because I knew we would have at least one more kid and I didn’t want to feel that way again, since it sort of made me feel like less of a mom. But when my son was born, then later my third daughter, that connection was right there the moment they were conceived.

Sometimes I worry that I may end up not being as close with my oldest daughter as I want, especially because she is a very independent little girl. And being a four-year-old about to turn five definitely puts her in that stage of self-reliance, I'm only more determined to build our relationship (though in all reality I will always strive to have a the best relationship possible with ALL my children). I definitely have high hopes, if only I can survive these "stages" all children seem to go through.

I think that’s one of the most difficult parts of motherhood for me: worrying that I may not have a good relationship with my children. My daughters and son are the world to me, and my existence pretty much belongs to them. I just wish that sometimes they would make things a little easier, but as my best friend once expressed: “When your child pushes all your buttons, just remember it’s their job… They are only testing you to see how seriously you take your job!” And with as much as they are checking to see that I am taking my job seriously, I’d have to assume they really want me to take my job seriously because I’m THEIR mom and they want it to continue to be that way. At least that’s what I like to tell myself…