I Need a Stunt Double

Oh, what a beginning to the day yesterday.  Parenthood never has a dull moment, am I right?

My son wandered into our bedroom at 5:44am to let me know he had had an accident.  Yup.  He was right.  Totally and completely soaked.  The good news is he was somewhat awake so it wasn't in that half-asleep crying, confusing, panicked state...just a little embarrassed and cold. 

I got him cleaned up, then stripped the sheets off his bed.  At this point, I began assessing my situation and possible plans of attack.

If I play this right, can I get him to go back to bed for just a little bit longer?  It's still dark out.  We're being really quiet so we don't wake up his sister or his dad.  He can't read a clock yet.  I think I'll go for it.

In an attempt to get him back to horizontal as soon as possible, I went with the option of not remaking his bed with clean sheets at that point.  I hoisted him up to his top bunk bed, hoping he'd go back to sleep for a bit.  The only glitch here is his top bunk does not have a railing, as no one ever really sleeps in it.  To solve that problem, I climbed up in bed with him and acted as a "human rail" between him and the edge of the bed.  (Good time to note that the bed is shoved up against the wall on the other side.)

Glory of all glories, he did indeed drift back off to dreamland.  Hallelujah!  

Around 7:30am, my daughter was up and around and I could see her making a beeline for our bedroom.  I called out to her from my son's top bunk to let her know we were in Parker's room.  As soon as she saw us up there, she of course decided she'd love to go out into the living room and quietly read a book by herself while her brother was still sleeping.

HA!  Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention...

No, of course, she wanted to hop up in bed with us.  (Good time to note that there is no ladder for the bunk bed because, again, no one ever really sleeps on the top bunk.)  In an effort to get down as quickly as possible before she started making too much noise, I simply slid down from top bunk and jumped down to the floor.  I've done this countless times before, either from making that top bunk or getting down after getting kids up there or whatever.  Not a big deal.

Not a big deal...unless there is a mystery Lego lurking under a mini pillow pet.

Oh, yes, ladies and gentlemen.  A big ole Lego (like the chunky kind toddlers play with) was in a ninja-like state, hiding just under the edge of the mini pillow pet where I had planned my landing.  And let me tell you, that hurts.  HURTS.  Take how you are wincing in pain right now just after reading that, and multiply it by about a million.

Here would be the result of that ungraceful leap:

High percentage chance I broke my toe.  

Wondering how I did this?  I think when I hit the Lego with my foot, my brain went "OUCH! GET OFF THAT THING, YOU DUMMY!" and then I transferred all my weight onto my toes to prevent the Lego actually lodging itself permanently in the bottom of my foot.  Not one of my finer moments...

All in a day's work, people.  All in a day's work.

I think I need a stunt double.

Even if you acquire a few injuries along the way, You're a Good Mom. 

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What "parenthood injuries" have you incurred in the line of duty?  Yes, stepping on a Barbie shoe counts.  (Those suckers hurt!)  Yes, your child flinging Spaghetti-O's into your eye counts, too.  (Ouch.)  Let's hear 'em, folks.  (Just hoping I'm not the only one who finds herself in these predicaments.)  

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Patience is a Virtue (or so I've been told...)

Breathe in.  Breathe out.

Find your happy place.  

100...99...98...97...

Oh, I'm sorry!  I didn't see you there.  I was just in the middle of trying to not completely lose my mind.  Or my temper.  Because I've already lost my patience for the day, and I really hope I can find it before dinner time rolls around.

I don't know about you, but I've been struggling a lot lately with being patient.  I wake up every morning thinking "This is it.  This is the day.  Today is going to be different.  I am making a choice to be patient."

And then my kids wake up.

And while I'm still talking myself into a lovely little patience-induced coma, somehow the living room is already trashed, I've made them breakfast which they've only picked at, my formerly somewhat picked up kitchen is now just a pile of dirty dishes, crumbs and half-open boxes of toaster waffles and yogurt containers, and my children have found some earth-shattering, life-changing issue to argue about.  Like who got the yellow cup.  Or whose feet are touching whose chair.  I'm talking serious dilemmas here, people.

Needless to say, I've been feeling like I need a little help to replenish the ol' patience supply here.

Can I Get a Vitamin for That?
I'm all about those lovely prenatal vitamins you choke down during your pregnancy.  (I mean, sure, I felt like I was burping vitamin breath for 3 hours after I took them, but my hair and nails have never grown so much in all my life.)  Prenatal vitamins work wonders and give that little tiny baby growing in your belly everything he or she needs, and help Moms out with all that nutrient business, too.  But what about after that sweet little bundle arrives?  Don't Moms still need, no deserve, some continued help?

I propose this:  Postnatal vitamins.

You would begin taking these postnatal vitamins as soon as Baby arrives, and well, for the rest of your life.  They would continue to make your hair and nails grow at an astonishing rate, but that's not all.  They would (get ready for this...you may want to sit down...) grow your ability to be patient by leaps and bounds.  

You would also be able to sign up for a booster pack when each of your children turn 3, and then again when they turn 13.  And again at 23, as needed, if they move back home.  

Just a thought.  Anyone out there with me?

Real, Not Perfect
I don't mean this post to be a huge "whine fest."  Really, I don't.  (OK, it may contain a little venting.  Which is a second cousin to whining.  Dangerous, I know.)  I simply want it to be real.  And this is where I've been this week, struggling with being patient.  I love my children dearly.  That has never been in question for even a second.  I love them beyond measure, and cherish the minutes and hours and days I have with them.  

But sometimes, if I have to ask them one more time to put their shoes on or explain why they need to pick up the pain-inducing Legos spread across their bedrooms, I feel like I'm going to lose my mind.  

I'm learning it's not just one thing that sucks up all my patience.  It's all the little tiny things that each chip away at my patience little by little, bit by bit, day after day, until poof!, my son dumps an entire container of season salt on his zucchini after I've told him we need to do it together and it's like my world is ending in that moment.  Oh no!  Not the precious $3.95 bottle of season salt or 4 bites of zucchini that have been ruined! Whatever shall we do!  There is clearly no coming back from this catastrophe.  

In these moments (well, it's usually after these moments) I have to remind myself of a few things.  

I am not perfect.  I am human.  

My kids are not perfect.  They are human.  

While I am certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, our family is not perfect, I am also certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, of this: We are real.  And honestly, I wouldn't want it any other way.  I don't want to waste precious time with them trying for any of us to be "perfect."  I would so much rather soak up the time we have with each other, all the while being real and imperfect and learning how to do life together.

And sometimes being real means acknowledging when my patience is running low.

So yes, sometimes I find myself apologizing to my kids for using "strong words" (raising my voice).  And yes, sometimes I find myself having to share my feelings about why I felt upset or frustrated when I've asked them for the fifth time to brush their teeth and haven't gotten so much as a response, let alone anything that resembles toothbrushing.  And yes, sometimes we all need to go to our rooms for a little extra quiet time, Mom included, so we can take a second to calm down.

I am not perfect.  I am human.

My kids are not perfect.  They are human.

My hope is that from all my imperfection, they are learning it is OK to be real, to be human themselves.  I hope they are learning how important it is to share how they feel, to apologize, and to make things right when they've done something they wish they hadn't.  

Not Everything You See and Hear is "Real"
All around us, we see images on diapers boxes of Moms of newborns peacefully holding their sleeping child, all the while looking radiant and glowing and well-rested, for crying out loud.  We see commercials with toddlers smiling and laughing while reading books and playing soccer with their smiling and laughing parents.  We see Pinterest posts about school age kids happily baking organic muffins or making their own clothes or building something out of pallets with Mom or Dad by their side.  We see Facebook posts about all the amazing things parents are doing with their amazing kids, and it's like you can just feel the patience and "perfectness" oozing out of them.  

It's not to say that these things aren't wonderful and aren't part of parenting, because they are.  They do exist every now and again and we should enjoy and celebrate them when they happen for us.  

But that's not the day in, day out part of parenting.  That's not the "real" part of parenting we come up against in our most difficult moments.  There are parts of parenting when we struggle to be patient.  When we try to dig into our patience reserves, but find them empty.  When we need to take a step back or lean on others to help us get through a day, an hour, a moment.

I guess all this rambling just to say this...if you find yourself taking lots of deep breaths or trying to find your happy place or counting backward from 100, know you are not alone.  Don't beat yourself up if you've been "human" in any given situation; if you've reacted differently than your "this is exactly how I'm going to parent" before-you-actually-had-kids-self had planned out how you would react.  

Be kind to yourself.  Extend grace to yourself.  If you need to, make amends with whoever you need to, even if that means making amends with your kids.  It doesn't make you any less of a parent.  It makes you more of one.  

Whether it is a day filled with an abundance of patience, or you feel like you're running on your last ounce of patience, You Are a Good Mom.  Hang in there.  Tomorrow is a new day.  You will get another chance to wake up and say "Today, I will be patient."  You will get another chance to make it happen.  And who knows?  The FDA may be close to approving that postnatal vitamin any day now.  

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"Parent"dox: "I Need You to Help Me Do Everything By Myself!"

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #14: "I Need You to Help Me Do Everything By Myself!"

Oh, the unspeakable joys of a very independent, very strong-willed three-year-old girl.  

I've been told time and time again that her personality will serve her well as an adult and she'll be assertive and she will be able to speak her mind and and she will be able to really pursue what she wants in this life, and that is all fantastic.  And I agree.  I am thankful for who she is and who God made her to be.  

There truly is great joy, but sometimes it is unspeakable because it's buried under all that independent, strong-willed-ness she's got going on.

Every single thing she does all day can turn into a power struggle in the blink of an eye.  The hard part about this is the number of tasks she faces in a day that are just slightly out of her independent reach.  She either lacks the strength or the height or the manual dexterity or the speed to do them on her own quite yet.  I can honestly see where her frustration comes from.  Unfortunately,  we don't always have the time for her to try and power through things on her own and Mom or Dad has to step in and help her or (Heaven forbid) just do it for her. 

Here are a few snippets from recent days with her need to do everything herself...

• We delivered a gift to her great aunt at school.  Her brother gave the gift to said aunt.  Four seconds later, my daughter asked for the gift back so she could re-give it to her aunt herself.
• I carried her to the car from our house.  As soon as her little kicking feet hit the ground, she marched her self right back to the door we had left and walked the same exact path to get herself to the car completely on her own.
• I attempted to put her tennis shoe on her foot, as we were running late to get to her tumbling class.  As soon as I let go, she took off not only the shoe, but also the sock, in order to do both tasks on her own.  (She also likes the "one-up" or "I'll show you, Mom" move, as well.)
• After unbuckling her from her car seat, I set her on the ground.  She climbed back into the car to jump down herself, all the while telling me "I do it! I do it!"

I could go on and on, but you get the idea here.  The inspiration for this post, however, occurred a few days ago when I was trying to get her into her car seat.  As you can imagine, she wanted to walk from the house to the car, climb up into the car herself, climb up into her car seat herself and click in the 3 buckles on her car seat herself.  Because we weren't on a time schedule and this particular battle wasn't one I was up to fighting, I let her do everything on her own.  After about 5 minutes of messing with the car seat buckles (which she isn't strong enough to click on her own yet), she looked up at me and said:

"Mom, I need you to help me do everything by myself!"

And there is was.  In her independent, three-year-old way, she had revealed yet another "parent"dox.  I absolutely adore the way she made this statement, too.  She said it in a pretty serious tone, with a furrowed brow, as if I should have known this all along.  It perfectly sums up how she feels about every task she faces throughout the day: she wants to do it by herself, but if she's not quite there yet, she wants me close enough to be able to step in and give her help.  Not full-out help.  Just enough to nudge her into independence.  

Rip the fruit snack wrapper just the tiniest bit so she can do the rest on her own.  Move the cup closer to the edge of the counter so she can reach up and grab it herself.  Untwist the toothpaste cap just one turn so she can complete the task on her own.

In our very best mother/daughter moments, she'll look up at me with her big blue eyes as she's trying to do something all on her own and ask "Mom, we do teamwork on this?"  I cherish those moments when she's not only willing to accept a little help from me, but when she actually asks for it.  Not out and out says "I need help" of course, because that is not in her DNA.  But for her, it's as close as I'll ever get.  And I'll take it.

Who Doesn't Love a Good Framed Needlepoint ?
Growing up, my mom had a little framed needlepoint sign hanging in our downstairs bathroom that read:

"There are two lasting gifts we can give our children.  One is roots.  The other is wings."

I don't think I ever fully understood this sentiment as a kid, even though I read it in excess of a million times, I'm sure, while washing my hands.  Now that I'm a parent myself, it has become evident how much wisdom those words contain.

Even though my children are still quite young, I'm beginning to see that this quote captures the essence of parenthood.  On first glance, it may seem that we provide roots early in the lives of our children, and as they make their way into their young adult years, we switch gears and provide wings.  I am learning, though, that this isn't the case, and with most things related to parenthood, it is not so clear cut.  No matter their age, we have times when we are providing roots, and times we are providing wings.  Even as a grown adult with a home and family of my own, there are moments I still look to my parents for roots.  Even though my daughter is three-years-old, there are moments when the very best thing I can give to her as a parent is wings.  

We are in a constant dance with our children...sometimes we take the lead, sometimes we follow their lead.  I'm trying to learn the steps as I go, but it isn't easy.  I know there are times when I've stepped on my kids' toes, when I've held them too tight as they've tried to twirl or spin away.  I know there were times when they needed me to hold on a little tighter and direct their steps a little more, and I came up short.  

Each day, though, I am learning.  I only hope that each day I'm getting a little better.  

I hope that when my kids look back, they will be able to recognize the times where my husband and I have provided them with roots, and also the times where we've tried to give them wings.

I hope they'll be able to say "Mom and Dad, you helped us to do everything by ourselves."

And if I'm dreaming big, maybe they'll even say it without screaming it at me from the back seat of my Minivan while I'm trying to wrestle them into their car seats.

When you're providing roots and wings, when you're learning the dance steps as you go, when you're helping your kids learn to do everything themselves, You Are a Good Mom.

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"Parent"dox: Birthdays are for Parents

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #9: Birthdays are for Parents

Remember when you were a kid and waiting an entire year for your birthday seemed like a lifetime?  Counting down the days until your birthday felt like an eternity, like time had literally frozen, and in severe cases -- such as anticipating a birthday party at Show Biz Pizza or waiting for the all-important double digit milestone of 10 -- it could feel like time was actually going backwards.  

Now, as an adult, those years fly by much faster than I care to admit, and a birthday is often just another day of the week.  

I was reminded just how fast those years are flying by when I was leaving my son's school this week.  I was talking to our neighbor, a 1st grader, in the hallway as I was on my way out the door.  As we were talking and laughing, one of her classmates came walking up to join in our conversation.

Kid:  "Hi.  What's your name?"
Me:  "Carrie.  What's your name?"
Kid:  "Jeremiah."
Me:  "What a great name, Jeremiah.  It's nice to meet you.  Are you in Kelly's class?"
Kid:  "Yup.  Are you Kelly's grandma?"

Grandma?  Grandma??  Thanks for that, 6-year-old kid I don't know.  You are doing wonders for my self esteem.   

I tried to rationalize that one as much as I could.  These are some of the things I contemplated on my drive home to console my wounded ego:

1.  Maybe he knows Kelly's mom, and knew I wasn't her, so he just went with the next relation he could think of.  (Although, for the record, I would have preferred "cool aunt" or "hip cousin" much better...)
2. Maybe he meant Grandma as a compliment.  I mean really, to a 6-year-old, there is no more amazing person on the planet than Grandma, am I right?
3. Maybe he failed his vision screening.
4. Maybe I should stop wearing my hair in a bun.

After all the rationalizing, though, all I could do was laugh.  Truly, I love the unfiltered thoughts that tumble out of kids' mouths.  They always seem to serve as a good reminder not to take things too seriously.  

Like birthdays.  And getting older.  And age.  

Age is just a number. 

 Actually, it's much more than a number.  That number represents another hard-earned year's worth of laughs enjoyed, obstacles overcome, tears shed, experiences lived, relationships deepened, fears conquered, boundaries pushed and wisdom gained.  I am thankful for the years God has given me; thankful for the people He has put in my life in those years; thankful for  the happy memories that serve to mark each of those years; and I'm learning to be thankful for the challenges that have made me stronger over those years.  

It is a number to be celebrated; a number to be cherished; a number to be treasured. 

So, yes, there is no denying it, today is my actual birthday.  On this day that celebrates my birth and glorious introduction to this great big world, I have been thinking...  I didn't really do anything that day.  I was born.  Piece of cake.  (Maybe that's why this day is commemorated with cake?)  Really, let's think about the people we should be celebrating here...the people who actually made that very first birthday a reality.  

My parents.

Here is my request for this day and for years to come...don't send birthday wishes my way, send them to my parents.  

Happy Birth Day to both of you!  Thank you for all the work (aka labor) you did that day to get me here.  Thank you for getting our family of 2 (soon to be 3) to the hospital safe and sound.  Thank you for getting through contraction after contraction.  Thank you for cutting the cord.  Thank you for holding me when I was just minutes old.  Thank you for not passing out at any point.  Thank you for encouraging and supporting and celebrating that day.

To my parents, on my birthday, You Are a Good Mom (and Dad!).  Thanks for loving me and supporting from that very first minute, that very first breath, and for every minute and breath since then for the last 34 years.  I love you guys to the moon and back!

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Until I Became a Mom

There were a lot of things I thought I knew about being a Mom before I became a Mom.  But come to find out, there were actually a lot of things I didn't know -- things no one could have just "told" me; things I had to experience for myself -- until I became a Mom.

Until I became a Mom, I didn't know...

...I'd run a full dishwasher on a daily basis.

...it would become commonplace to remove boogers from someone's nose other than my own.

...so many of my conversations would be about poop or pee...when, how much, what color...

..."nap time" would be the two sweetest words my tired ears could hope to hear.

...I'd keep my 2-year-old company by sitting on the bathroom floor and reading her books as she sat on the potty, and I'd actually be excited that day had arrived.  

...my decisions would carry such weight; not just for me, but for my children and my family, too.

Until I became a Mom, I didn't know...

...the theme song from "Wonder Pets" and "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" would be sung nearly 'round the clock in my house...frequently, by me.

...just how difficult, yet important, carving out time for myself; time with my husband; time with my girlfriends would be in maintaining my own sanity.

...I'd hear my mother's words coming out of my own mouth.

...I would spend the night in a steam-filled bathroom with my croupy 4-year-old to make sure he could breathe, and I'd be full of worry and compassion, not frustration and impatience.

...there would permanently be Cheerios or graham cracker crumbs in some part of my house or car at any given time.

...I would want so badly to  be able to take someone else's pain away and make it my own.

...the laundry would never, ever be "done" again.

Until I became a Mom, I didn't know...

...I would purposefully take the "long way" home, based on the sliver of hope that the extra time in the car would get my infant to fall asleep.

...I'd be able to have my heart nearly burst with love and adoration, just watching someone sleep.

...I could be out-negotiated and out-stubborned by a toddler.

...reading the words "I love you, Mom" in preschooler script could completely melt my heart.

...that 7:00am would now be considered "sleeping in."

Until I became a Mom, I didn't know...

...sometimes just taking a shower would be a victory for the day.

...I would laugh out loud everyday, just from the things my kids would say and do.

...I'd be wearing maternity clothes long after that baby was here and in my arms.   

...that Popsicles and Band-Aids can fix just about anything.

...how hard it would be, how rewarding it would be, how exhausting it would be, how amazing it would be and how nothing else on earth could truly prepare me for all that it meant to answer to the title of "Mom."

Until I became a Mom, I didn't know...

...a piece of my heart would now forever live outside of me.

Until I became a Mom, I had no idea just how precious those words -- You Are a Good Mom -- would be, and how I would carry them with me long after hearing them.  I didn't know how much I'd need to hear them, to remind myself of them, especially in the moments when I least felt like I was living up to them.  

Whether you are desperately in of need them today, or they are just a happy reminder, from the very bottom of my heart to yours, please know You Are a Good Mom.

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What things did you not know until you became a Mom (or Dad)?  Write in the "post a comment" box below, or click on "# comments" and a comment box to write in will open so you can add yours to the list.  Thanks so much for taking the time to share! (Feel free to share any other thoughts, feelings or reactions to this post, too!)

"Parent"dox

par·a·dox \ˈper-ə-ˌdäks, ˈpa-rə-\

          
          a statement that is seemingly contradictory or opposed to common 
          sense and yet is perhaps true

1.  It is a paradox that computers need maintenance so often, since they are meant to save people time.

(merriam-webster.com)

par·ent·dox  \I need one of my genius speech path friends to do 
                            this part\                                 
                            \Kelli & Gretchen are laughing right now\

the daily experience that is parenthood; seemingly living life in contradiction

1.  It is a "parent"dox that I am exhausted pretty much all day, but the second my head hits the pillow, my mind starts remembering all of the random things I need to do and I am instantly wide awake.

2.  While cooking, I find is "parent"doxical that the more time it takes to prepare a meal, the less of it my children will eat.  For example, a hot dog takes 25 seconds in the microwave, and my kids will eat the entire thing and ask for seconds.  Wild rice and chicken casserole, which requires 35 minutes of prep work and is made entirely of things they love to eat, will elicit only the one required "taste bite" and my children will carry on as though I have asked them to cut off an appendage.  

3.  Why does my 7 pound newborn baby require that I take 200 pounds of stuff with us in order to leave the house?  Hmmm...such a "parent"dox.

4.  It seemed as though my heart was completely and entirely full and could not contain another ounce of love or joy when my son was born.  What a "parent"dox that my love and joy was multiplied exponentially the moment my daughter was born.  My family and my capacity for love both grew that day.

(youreagoodmom.blogspot.com)

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I have come to realize that from the moment you sign on to become a parent, you also sign on to live the remainder of your life in a "parent"dox.  You are filled with excitement, trepidation, joy, and worry beyond words.  From there on out, at any given moment, on any given day, you will most likely experience some sort of "parent"dox.  It's not good, it's not bad...it just is.  Here are a few I've experienced in my very short tenure as a parent...

CLEANING
Trying to clean the house while there are real, live, actual children living in it is an ongoing "parent"dox I face each and everyday.  I attempt to _____ (fill in the blank here...fold laundry, do dishes, clean the bathroom, pick up the living room...) and as soon as said chore is complete (or even partially complete for that matter) I have an equally large (or larger) mess waiting for me.  

Laundry is folded?  Great!  Every book pulled off the bookshelf...not so great.  Bathroom cleaned?  Super! All shoes pulled out and strewn throughout the house...un-super.  Dinner made?  Awesome!  All sorted and organized toy boxes (that job in and of itself had  been traded in for another mess, no doubt...) dumped out and mixed together in the living room...less than awesome.  

The other thing I love about cleaning with kids is the illusion of ever actually finishing a chore.  The floor is mopped.  For a total of 5 seconds.  Because before the mop is actually put away, graham cracker crumbs have already been scattered across the formerly clean floor.  I am also totally convinced that dirty laundry somehow multiplies while it is in the basket.  I throw a pair of socks into an empty basket (wait...who am I kidding...the basket is never empty...but stick with me on this one...), come back 8 minutes later, and the basket is overflowing.  I get that whole "matter can neither be created nor destroyed" bit, but I think dirty laundry supersedes this law of physics.  

The e-card below makes me laugh every time I see it, and totally sums up this "parent"dox.


BEDTIME
Bedtime is one of the most well-known "parent"dox moments around our house.  Doing the dance that is bathing, pajama-ing, and teeth brushing a preschooler and a toddler is not without frustration, distraction, negotiation, and flat out HARD WORK!  But the immediate follow up to that is cuddling in bed with both of them while we read stories, talk about the day, pray, and just spend some all-around quality time together.  It is both my most dreaded and most anticipated time of the day.  

That is not even the most "parent"doxical part to me, though.  The part that never ceases to amaze me is after a day filled with longing for the time when I will have a few minutes to myself, I find myself missing them once they are finally asleep.  What is that?  All day long they whine, argue, demand, make messes (I suppose there is some good stuff sprinkled in there, too...) and then when it is finally calm and quiet, I miss the heck out of them?  Why is it I just want to hear their little voices and giggles? Without fail, I will be seeing them soon, when they will be up much earlier than I am ready for the next morning...or in the middle of the night...but for whatever reason, I do find myself missing them at some point during that sacred window of time I spent the majority of the day looking forward to.

TIME
We are so very excited for our kiddos to grow and learn and reach milestones.  They are such celebrations and special family memories! From crawling to walking to teething to talking,  we wait in eager anticipation of these events.  At times is seems as though our kiddos are just on the verge of being able to do something, and then they make us wait just a little bit longer.  Sometimes it can be the anticipation of a skill that will seemingly make life just that much easier.  "When she just starts sleeping through the night..." or "When he can finally feed himself..."  All too soon, though, we find ourselves realizing they are growing up much too fast.  We want to freeze time, to keep them little just the tiniest bit longer.  The "parent"dox of eagerly anticipating the passing of time, yet wanting time to freeze, is such a bittersweet one.  

This quote rings with so much truth for me when it comes to this "parent"dox...

"The days are long, but the years are short."  ~Unknown

PERHAPS THE TOUGHEST, YET MOST AMAZING OF ALL...
I experienced a different kind of "parent"dox for the first time just last week.  My son had completely fallen apart and was having an all out fit after he had been sent to "time out" for knocking down his sister's Lego tower for the second time. When one of these fits strikes, he is nearly inconsolable. Crying. Screaming. Completely irrational.  I have learned that one of the only things that can help pull him out of it is to just leave him by himself for awhile.  On the up side, he knows this, too.  He stormed right past the "time out" spot in front of the coat closet and into his bedroom.  After a few minutes, I went in to see how he was doing and attempt to process the situation at hand.  

He let me have it.  He was mad at me.  He was frustrated with me.  He didn't like me.  I was the trigger of this particular explosion, and even though I knew I would still follow through in the same way again, it still hurt and was still hard to see and hear him be so clearly upset with me. I wanted to him to know he couldn't destroy something his sister had worked so hard on, but had I somehow hurt him in a way I didn't mean to?  Had I reacted too quickly?  Spoken too harshly?  Missed something?  (Weird that he is so sensitive, right?  I mean, I wonder where on earth he could get that from?...)  Eventually, he was able to calm down and talk through the issue with me, take responsibility for his actions {with some prodding}, apologize to his sister and get back to his serious work of playing Legos, helping his sister rebuild her construction and flying Lego cars around the living room.  

Here was the flipside of that "parent"dox.  That night, in the midst of praying for our food and our family at dinner, he threw in "...and thank you for moms who help us when we're crying..."  My husband and I looked at each other.  I could hardly believe it.  A situation that hours earlier had been frustrating, exhausting, and also had me beating myself up pretty good, had amazingly turned into a sweet moment I will never forget.  Where earlier he had been so upset, so mad, so emotionally out of control, here he was now verbalizing tenderness, kindness and thankfulness.

I know we will encounter many more situations much bigger, much deeper, much more complicated than this one.  I know 99.9% of the time I will never hear a "thank you" of any kind after being the bearer of bad news or the enforcer of consequences.  So this is the "parent"dox I will tuck away, I will hold on to, I will try to remember, when I find myself in the midst of the next one. 

When you are feeling the worst; when it hurts the most; in that moment, THAT is when You are a Good Mom.  

When you are agonizing about how hurt he is because you followed through on a consequence, that is when You are a Good Mom.

When you stick to your decision, and she "hates" you because "Everyone else is!", that is when You are a Good Mom.

When your daughter has hurled a string of insults at you, and topped it all off with "And you're ugly, too!" as you are helping her to learn the life skill of not saving a big project until the night before it is due, that is when You are a Good Mom.  (Yes, the eerie accuracy and detail of that last one does indeed mean it took place in my childhood home...)  

And ultimately here is perhaps the biggest "parent"dox of them all...they are worth it.  All these crazy, goofy, bittersweet "parent"doxes are worth it. Ask any parent, and they will tell you, without a doubt, that being a parent is worth it.  When it comes down to it at the end of the day, I am grateful that I get to experience these "parent"doxes.  I am blessed that I have these tiny little clothes to wash, trucks and Legos to step over when I walk into my bathroom to brush my teeth at night, kids to wrestle with at bedtime, milestone memories to treasure and remember, and glimpses of seeing my kids learn lessons as they go through life.  

The good stuff far outweighs the bad stuff.  Delighting in the amazing stuff far outweighs enduring the tough stuff.  We bear the burden of heartbreaks, frustrations, sorrows and disappointments, but we are given joys, celebrations, happiness and pride beyond our wildest dreams.  

Weathering the hard times, celebrating the good times...that is when You Are A Good Mom.

My Life in the Rocking Chair

"Worry is like a rocking chair.  It gives your something to do, but never gets you anywhere."
~Erma Bombeck

Which bedding set should I get for my baby, that I have yet to even hold in my arms?  Which diapers should I use?  Do I let him cry it out or go in and comfort him?  Should she be crawling yet? Walking? Talking? Should he go into Young 5s or Kindergarten next year?  Is she ready for a sleepover yet?  How much do I help him with his science fair project?  What if no one asks her to the dance?  What if someone DOES?  Which college will he choose?  How will we afford it?  Is he really "the one" for her? From before they are born, until they are parents themselves and beyond, we worry.  Rock, rock, rock...yet we get nowhere.

I am a worrier.  I admit it.  I'm not proud of it, but worry seems to creep into my thoughts whenever it darn well pleases.  It's just there.  It's what we do as moms.  We worry about our kids.  We worry about things we can't control.  We worry about people they have yet to meet, obstacles they have yet to face, challenges they have yet to overcome.  We know we can't be there with them at every moment, and so we hope we are preparing them the best we can to go out and face the world, whether that world is the other kids playing on the playground at the park, the new roommate they meet for the first time as you move them into their dorm room, or unknown co-workers at a first job halfway across the country.

There is such a wide variety and so many options when it comes to worry.  Don't you worry...I seem to have mastered them all.  Let me share a few pages from my personal worry book...

The "I Can't Believe I Did That!" Worry
Scene: Driveway of our day care provider's house on a cold, dark December night, after picking up both of my children.  Life has been overall hectic, and I have just wrestled my oldest (who was 3 1/2 at the time) into his car seat, which took quite a bit of force and effort.  Both kids are successfully strapped in.  I am beyond ready to get home.  Push button on automatic door to close.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!" I say as I turn in slow motion and see my car keys lying on the front seat.  Check doors.  Locked.  Tightly.  All of them.   

"Hey, buddy!  Do you think you can reach your arms out of your straps?!" said hopefully, playfully, as if it's a crazy new game mom invented.  Continue miming how to do this outside of his window.  Son looks at me as if I'm crazy.  He tries, to no avail.  (Note: In the long run, a good thing.  If he could get himself out of his 5-point harness car seat on his own, that is an entirely different set of worries...)

Walk to day care providers front door.  Knock, knock, knock.  "Um, yeah, I know you're trying to start dinner with your own family after an entire day with other people's kids, too, but do you think you could call a tow truck for me?"

Thank goodness our day care provider was a good friend from high school, who stood out in the cold with me with a flashlight waiting for the tow truck and did NOT later call child protective services on me.  Tow truck arrives, and I realize I have forgotten my wallet at home.  Call Mom to get her credit card number to give tow truck driver, and tell her I will pay her back later.  (Thanks, Mom!  You're the original Good Mom!! :)  The fun just never ends, right?

That one was even in my control, so to speak.  It was something I did, and unfortunately, it was not the first or last time I will be guilty of pulling something like that.  The lesson I learned here is don't beat yourself up over it.  It happens.  We're moms and it comes with the territory of being human and having a million things on our plates and on our minds at once.  Get up out of the rocking chair, work to resolve the issue at hand and move on.  

The "What Will They Think?" Worry
Scene: Our little family of 4, the secretaries, and the principal, in the office of my son's preschool, also a K-6 school, the Friday before Christmas break. The secretary has asked my preschooler what Santa will bring for Christmas.  She has asked him about what Santa will bring him, his sister, his mom, and is now asking about his dad.

"I think he'll bring him tools.  He really likes to build stuff."
"Really?  That's neat!"
"Yeah.  He works in the garage a lot.  And this summer, we're gonna build a bat house together! (Note:  This is actually true.  My husband has talked with my son about this upcoming endeavor.)  It's gonna be so fun and I'm gonna wear special glasses and use tools!  And we're gonna catch bats in my bat house from our backyard so we can eat the bat meat (Note: This was NOT part of any conversation my husband has had with him about this upcoming endeavor) and...."

I have no idea what he said after that.  Excuse me...did he just say we would catch the bats and EAT THE MEAT?  Did he just tell the school secretaries we would EAT BAT MEAT?  Seriously?!  Worry sets in...oh no...are we going to be the crazy bat family?  We are going to have children at this school for the next 10 years!  

Thank goodness my aunt is the principal in this scene, and thank goodness the secretaries are the sweetest, most amazing women on the planet, and my aunt just started laughing right along with my husband and I as we all looked at each other.  She saved the day and jumped in with "Where does he get this stuff?"  I'm sure we will inevitably be come to be known as the "something" family over the years, but at least for now, it's NOT the crazy bat family.  

The lesson I learned here is learn to laugh at it.  There is no way we can control the things that come out of our kiddos' mouths...at age 2, at age 8 and most definitely anything that ends with "-teen."  We can't control what other people are going to think of us or our kids, either.  We shouldn't even try.  Get up out of the rocking chair, laugh over whatever goofy/embarrassing/off the wall thing that was said or done, and move on.  

The "Is My Kid Gonna Be Alright?" Worry
Scene: Our house, the weekend after school was out for summer vacation.  Loud "crash" noise comes from my son's room, as I'm in my daughter's room, trying to get her to nap.  Immediately followed by my husband's swift steps up the stairs.

My husband, extremely calmly.  "Carrie, get her dressed.  Grab your keys.  I need you to drive us to the emergency room."  

My heart sinks.  My stomach drops.  My mind is racing.  What happened?  Is everything OK?  Obviously not... (Note: I can handle a lot of of bodily fluids from my kids.  Poop.  Pee.  Boogers.  Puke.  Spit up.  You name it, I've been covered it.  And sometimes in a combination of the above.  Does not phase me in the least.  Except BLOOD.  I don't handle blood so well... like I faint.  Not good.)  

My incredible, calm, level-headed husband is taking care of our son and helping to calm him down and reassuring him, all the while trying to keep me calm.  He has his head wrapped.  They are both covered in blood.  I am worried beyond words, but do my best to get myself and my daughter buckled in the car and ready to go.  As it turns out, my son was running into his bedroom, and either slipped on something or just tripped, and fell and hit his head on the baseboard of his bed just above his eye.  He got a pretty good sized cut, 5 stitches, and now has a faint scar that he loves to tell people about.  

All 4 of us end up spending a few hours at the ER, complete with Toy Story and Popsicles.  When the ER doc comes into our room, he looks at my husband and I and asks us what happened.  Our son pipes up from his bed, with his wounded, wrapped head (he honestly looked like a little miniature Civil War soldier...) and matter-of-factly remarks "I got in a fight with my bed, and the bed won."  

Thank goodness for my incredible, calm, level-headed husband, who got our son through the actual stitches as I took our daughter out to the lobby...and worried the entire time. The lesson I learned here is be there and be present the best you can.  Just having you there and present will do wonders for your kiddo, even if you are scared and worried yourself.  Get up out of the rocking chair, love on your sick/injured/hurting kiddo like crazy, provide comfort and support, and move on.

There are so many other worries that rear their ugly heads throughout the day or night.  I'm guessing that most of you out there have your own to add to this list, too.  If not, please let me in on your secret!

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Even now, my 83-year-old grandpa still worries about my 60-year-old mom. Are you OK driving across town by yourself?  Did you get your power back after the storm?  Do you have an umbrella if it rains?  So I guess it never really stops...we never really totally get up out of the rocking chair.  It's just one of those things that comes with being a mom.  We worry because we love them.  We worry because we want the very best possible life for them.  We worry because they are a little tiny piece of us living out there in the great big world.  We worry because we wish we could make sure that everything will always be "OK," but we know we can't.  We just have to be by their side and love them through it all, no matter what.  

But this post is not just about worry.  It's not just to give you more things to worry about...as if you needed that.  It is to put it out there, so that we know we are not alone in our worry.  To focus on what we can control, and hopefully to provide some encouragement.  

Let love guard against worry.  Take heart in the knowledge that your child is loved beyond words and that they know that.  They can feel it in a way that they don't always show and don't always say.  Sometimes they even say it to the contrary.  

(My 2-year-old daughter cried all the way home the first time she came with me to drop her older brother off at preschool because I wouldn't let her stay at school with him.  After we pulled out of the parking lot, she yelled at me "I need a new mommy!!"  Oh yeah...those teen years are gonna be a ball of fun with this one!)

But no matter the words they sling at us, or the actions they take to try to say otherwise as they assert their independence and try to find their place in this world, they KNOW they are loved.  They know it in a way they can't even put into words.  It is comfort.  It is a warm blanket wrapped tightly around them, even when you are not there.  That is the very best gift we can give them.  They have worth.  They are worth loving.  That sticks with them.  

All those "what ifs...".  All those uncontrollable factors out there.  All those obstacles and challenges they have yet to face.  All those things we worry about in the middle of the night or the middle of the day, for that matter.  All those things do not compare to this one simple truth they know in their soul:  I have been, and continue to be, loved unconditionally.  No matter what they face, what they come up against, that is with them.  YOU have given that to your child...and no amount of worrying can take that away.  

So tonight, let your mind rest at ease, if even for a few minutes.  Let go of the worry, just for a short while.  Give the rocking chair a break.  Know that your child is loved in a way only YOU can love them, loved in a way that can never be taken from them, loved in a way they will never forget.  They will be ready to face all that this world has to throw their way.  Not to say there won't be obstacles or challenges, but that infallible truth of a mother's love will be there with them.  Always.  

Don't worry...You Are a Good Mom.