He has dimples. And he is a boy. So, I am pretty much a sucker for the rest of my life.
See, in our house, since Scout was born almost 4 years ago, I have been the 'bad cop.' Because, Bob is a sucker for Scout, the little girl in the house. I play 'bad cop' with her and Daddy, is well, the 'good cop.' If she blinks... he does whatever she wants. It doesn't work on me. Or, lets just say - not all the time.
Now, with Sawyer and his dimples, I can see Bob's dilemma. So, perhaps this Mama gets to be a 'good cop' with Sawyer and he can be the 'bad cop.'
Sawyer is all boy now. He has two teeth on the bottom and two coming in on top. He is just shy of 9 months. He is rough and tumble. He giggles. He loves his sister. He thinks she is the coolest. When they giggle together, everything, everything makes sense to me. Those are my favorite moments - when my kids are giggling together.
He is on the verge of crawling and life as I know it will get busier then it already is. He is going to move fast, there is no doubt.
He is finally sleeping in his own crib - not through the night - but he is IN A CRIB... its a start. Co-sleeping is a beautiful thing. 9 months is a LONG time to not sleep through the night. Soon, the boy will learn to self-soothe, I am hoping.
He is a doll baby. And he is HUGE. He weighs almost 20 lbs. which Scout didn't weigh until after her 1st birthday. I do believe he is going to be tall like his Daddy! It is a pleasure to watch him learn each day. He is in the mode where everyday he has a new trick. Pretty soon, he and Scout will be stealing the car.
I love being their Mom.
March 26, 2010
BODY PARTS
I never realized that I would be talking with my daughter about her vagina so early in life. It is surprising to me. I figured we would be having body part conversations when she was just a tad older. Not so much!
We use the word Vagina because I do not want to trivialize body parts. It isn't a 'pee-pee,' or a 'wee-wee,' or 'down there.' It is a Vagina. I decided this early on, maybe before I even had kids that I wouldn't use words that didn't explain and describe the body just as it is.
Scout is curious. She's almost 4. And, one of the funniest things happened the other day. Grandma Liz took Scout to the store for a Pineapple. On their way out, Scout asked to ride the little motorized horse. You know the one... by the door? Grandma lifts her up and drops in the dime. (Yes, you can still get something for a dime)
The ride begins and all of the sudden Scout starts laughing hysterically! Grandma asks, "what is so funny, Scout?" "It tickles my V.A.G.I.N.A Grandma!" Let's just say I am glad I wasn't there. I think, from what I am told, that the entire grocery store went silent. My Mom burst out laughing and so did everyone else.
Clearly, Scout is aware of her body. And, I am getting her a chastity belt, pronto!
We use the word Vagina because I do not want to trivialize body parts. It isn't a 'pee-pee,' or a 'wee-wee,' or 'down there.' It is a Vagina. I decided this early on, maybe before I even had kids that I wouldn't use words that didn't explain and describe the body just as it is.
Scout is curious. She's almost 4. And, one of the funniest things happened the other day. Grandma Liz took Scout to the store for a Pineapple. On their way out, Scout asked to ride the little motorized horse. You know the one... by the door? Grandma lifts her up and drops in the dime. (Yes, you can still get something for a dime)
The ride begins and all of the sudden Scout starts laughing hysterically! Grandma asks, "what is so funny, Scout?" "It tickles my V.A.G.I.N.A Grandma!" Let's just say I am glad I wasn't there. I think, from what I am told, that the entire grocery store went silent. My Mom burst out laughing and so did everyone else.
Clearly, Scout is aware of her body. And, I am getting her a chastity belt, pronto!
January 28, 2010
A WORLD AWAY
Scout received a beautiful hat, purse and scarf from my Grandmother and Aunt this year for Christmas. Why am I blogging about this?
My Grandma and Aunt live in New Zealand. It is a long, long way away. My father is from New Zealand and so I have had the good fortune to visit on several occasions. My last visit was in October of 2005. I jumped on a plane with 24 hours notice to my Dad, who was living there then, my Grandma, Grandpa and Aunt Shirley. It was a whim and I knew I had to go; Grandpa was dying.
I spent my life knowing very little about these people. I got cards and gifts at Holiday time and talked with them on the phone a few times through the years. Yet, they were a world away. It was hard to stay connected.
When I went in 2005 I fell in love with my family that I hadn't known most of my life. We had the grandest time, so much laughter and silliness! It was a true reunion and one that I think about almost every day. It took me months to come to terms with what an asshole I'd been over the years - not keeping in touch, not really giving it much thought. When I had to say goodbye to them, I cried for 17 hours - pretty much the entire flight home. I told my Grandpa 'I'd seem him on the other side.' He died soon after. I promised myself that I would 'keep in touch' better and call more when I left. I did, for about 1 year... and then my calls dwindled. My emails to New Zealand became more and more sparse. I hated being so far away from the people that I loved!
Back to the scarf. It is the most lovely set. And without having to DEMAND that Scout wear it, she came out of her room the other day wearing all of it. She looked so adorable. What was tough was that I wanted my Grandma and Aunt Shirl to see her. It broke my heart that they couldn't see how proud she was to wear her little outfit.
Later that evening, I talked to Grandma on the phone. Scout curiously romped toward me and asked "WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO MAMA?" I quickly tried to explain "I am talking to your Great-Grandma, you know, the one that bought you the beautiful hat, scarf and purse you wore today!" Scout grabbed the phone and mumbled into it. Grandma didn't understand what she was saying but I know it meant the world to her. When I told her about Scout wearing her gift, I know that also meant the world to her.
Scout and I cuddled that night after we hung up the phone. She was inquisitive. "Mommy, how come we can't see Great Grandma?" Oh, my heart fell. "Honey, Grandma lives very, very far away" I responded. "Does she live this far away" Scout held her arms wide apart. "Yes, honey, she does, she lives that far away."
Knowing that her concept of space and location wasn't going to grasp distance I tried to redirect the conversation. "But, how come Great Grandma doesn't come to see me?" And then the tears started to roll. "Well, Scout, Great Grandma is a little bit too old to fly on an airplane. She is 92 years old" I beamed! This didn't seem to matter to Scout. "Im old too Mommy" she said. I chuckled. The ripe old age of three.
The next day we drove toward preschool and Scout started again. "Mommy, why is Great Grandma old" she asked. Well, honey, people get old. Time passes.... " and then of course, tears rolled again. I am pretty sure that Scout won't get to meet her Great Grandma. This crushes me. She lives a world apart and it has been something I have known all my life. I never got to REALLY know my Grandma and Grandpa. I am sad for Scout and Sawyer. As I know what it is like to grow up not knowing about your family - and sometimes, until it is too late.
We are so blessed that Scout and Sawyer now have all of their Grandparents. They interact with Grandma Lizzie and Poppy Ray several times a week. They know Grandma Joyce and Grandpa Rod. It is really, out of this world, special. Bob and I didn't have access and or time to our Grandparent's growing up. We value these relationships big time.
I cried in the parking lot of Scout's preschool that day. Wishing, wishing that Great Grandma could just do one more flight... just one more.
LOVE AFFAIR
She was a newborn when she fell in love and it was like nothing we have ever seen. The way she looked when she learned to manipulate them was priceless.
She cooed and giggled when she played with them, never, ever letting one out of her site.
We often referred to her as 'Maggie' and if you are familiar with the longest running show on television, then you know who I am talking about. You could hear her all the way in the other room... SUCK... SUCK... SUCK.
She wasn't content unless she had at least four of them with her at all times. Especially at night, when she would put one on her finger, one in her mouth and two over her eyes. She often looked like she was getting a spa treatment in her crib.
Bob and I encouraged the relationship because it would keep her calm, entertain her and cut down on the noisy whining that occurred if she didn't have them.
When she and I co-slept they were the perfect snooze button. She would whimper... I would fumble around to find one, plug it in her mouth and she was good for another ten minutes of snoozing.
As time passed the relationship grew stronger. Bob and I got a little worried. "Do you think we should stop this?" I'd ask him on a regular basis. "Nah, she'll figure it out... it's just a phase." We let it go. Meanwhile, we admired the bond she had formed at such a young age.
The love affair didn't seem to wane after time... it only grew stronger. No matter where we went, she had to have them. It got to the point that if we forgot to bring them with us she would have a breakdown. It was an extra effort to make sure we always had them with us. We kept them in the glove compartment, our coat pockets, purse, diaper bag; you name it. We had them stashed so she would never be without.
When they ALL went missing we played a game. Theflashlights came out and the search was on. We had contests to see how many we could find. We would clap and march and celebrate when we examined our collection at the end of our search.
And then... it was time. It was time to for her to quit the relationship. She didn't like the idea of change. What would she do at night time, when she was daydreaming in her bed just before sleep? What would she do in the car? How would she manage? We felt bad that we had to start putting the breaks on this love affair. She was just getting too old.
We marked the calendar for December 26th, 2009. That was the day that the affair would end. We talked about it and referred to this day often. We wanted her to know how serious we were about her ending her affair. She would pout when we brought it up. She would sometimes be proud that, yes, indeed, she was going to give them up!
On December 26th, 2009 we collected all of them. We put them in a Tupperware bowl on the shelf. She didn't blink an eye. She was ready to move forward without regret or hesitation. Bob and I shook our heads in disbelief? "She is so strong" I said to Bob. After I said that I realized, it was our love affair. It was everything 'baby.' It represented her infancy and toddler years. We rarely saw her without them. It was harder on us than it was on her! I actually cried when I realized she had moved on without a blink... and we were the ones holding on... so tightly.
She hasn't looked back and it was a love affair we will never forget.
She cooed and giggled when she played with them, never, ever letting one out of her site.
We often referred to her as 'Maggie' and if you are familiar with the longest running show on television, then you know who I am talking about. You could hear her all the way in the other room... SUCK... SUCK... SUCK.
She wasn't content unless she had at least four of them with her at all times. Especially at night, when she would put one on her finger, one in her mouth and two over her eyes. She often looked like she was getting a spa treatment in her crib.
Bob and I encouraged the relationship because it would keep her calm, entertain her and cut down on the noisy whining that occurred if she didn't have them.
When she and I co-slept they were the perfect snooze button. She would whimper... I would fumble around to find one, plug it in her mouth and she was good for another ten minutes of snoozing.
As time passed the relationship grew stronger. Bob and I got a little worried. "Do you think we should stop this?" I'd ask him on a regular basis. "Nah, she'll figure it out... it's just a phase." We let it go. Meanwhile, we admired the bond she had formed at such a young age.
The love affair didn't seem to wane after time... it only grew stronger. No matter where we went, she had to have them. It got to the point that if we forgot to bring them with us she would have a breakdown. It was an extra effort to make sure we always had them with us. We kept them in the glove compartment, our coat pockets, purse, diaper bag; you name it. We had them stashed so she would never be without.
When they ALL went missing we played a game. Theflashlights came out and the search was on. We had contests to see how many we could find. We would clap and march and celebrate when we examined our collection at the end of our search.
And then... it was time. It was time to for her to quit the relationship. She didn't like the idea of change. What would she do at night time, when she was daydreaming in her bed just before sleep? What would she do in the car? How would she manage? We felt bad that we had to start putting the breaks on this love affair. She was just getting too old.
We marked the calendar for December 26th, 2009. That was the day that the affair would end. We talked about it and referred to this day often. We wanted her to know how serious we were about her ending her affair. She would pout when we brought it up. She would sometimes be proud that, yes, indeed, she was going to give them up!
On December 26th, 2009 we collected all of them. We put them in a Tupperware bowl on the shelf. She didn't blink an eye. She was ready to move forward without regret or hesitation. Bob and I shook our heads in disbelief? "She is so strong" I said to Bob. After I said that I realized, it was our love affair. It was everything 'baby.' It represented her infancy and toddler years. We rarely saw her without them. It was harder on us than it was on her! I actually cried when I realized she had moved on without a blink... and we were the ones holding on... so tightly.
She hasn't looked back and it was a love affair we will never forget.
November 8, 2009
FIGHT
It goes something like this:
7:45 A.M.
"Scout, its time to get ready for preschool. I laid out your outfit, can you please get dressed?"
Scout runs around the house and screams with laughter. She goes into the romper room and gets her red tricycle. She turns it around and zips back down the hall, naked. "Look at me Mommy!" I should be proud, right? She's riding her bike. She's good at it. NOPE. I'm not proud, I am annoyed.
"Scout, you need to get dressed! C'mon!"
She tears back into the romper room and parks her bike. Then, its quiet. I peek out from my bedroom, where I am changing Sawyer's diaper, tickling him and listening to him coo. "Scout, where are you?" I hear giggles. So, I bite. "Wheeeeeeereeeeesss SCOUT!" I wander into the living room and see the blanket moving on the floor. I go and touch it with my toe, right in her tickle spot. "I can't seem to find Scout! I wonderrrrr where she is?" "I'm right here MOMMY!" She is so excited and I am less annoyed.
"Scout, can you get dressed... now? Otherwise, we are going to be late!" I am certain my tone is harsh by the third time around. Scout manages to yank a pair of pants on. Not the ones I laid out the night before. And she has forgotten underwear; a tiny matter I decide to overlook.
"Mommy, do you want to color with me?" She's already working on a masterpiece and has marker all over her tummy and hands. "Scout, you need to get dressed, RIGHT NOW!"
She marches back to her room with her bottom lip so contorted it makes me smile. "NO MOMMY, I DON'T WANT TO GO!" She drops to the floor. I feel as though I should applaud. Her dramatic performance is hands down the best I have seen.
8:19 A.M.
"Scout, can you get dressed? Its time to go to school." She is laying on her bedroom floor kicking the wall. I hear Sawyer crying... I need to breastfeed. I rip my top off because I'm hot and its easier to nurse this way. Scout comes in and starts poking at Sawyer's head. "Gooo goo gaga! Baby Sawyer!" She loves her brother. "Honey, go and get dressed or you are going to be in BIG TROUBLE!" I try to sound mean and ugly. She hides in my closet and giggles.
I finish nursing Sawyer and then he needs another diaper change. I try to brush my hair and encourage Scout to brush hers. I brush my teeth and beg Scout to "wash her teeth really, really well!" Still, no socks, no top. But teeth are brushed and hair is, well, not pointing straight up.
Scout manages to pull a shirt over her head and very proud of herself. She pulled together her own outfit. I wince. Its painful. Its hideous. It hurts to look at her. She has green pants and a purple and pink shirt on. I don't say anything. I am happy she is dressed, finally!
"Scout, honey put some shoes on and then we can go!" She whines. "Mommy, my socks aren't working! There AREN'T working!" She takes her socks off and melts into the ground. By now, I am worn out.
8:46 A.M.
Scout walks outside without her socks wearing brown boots that do not help her outfit. She is carrying her coat because she is too hot to wear it. When she gets into the car she turns cold and insists I "help her with her coat!" I do. I hoist Sawyer up into his seat and I feel a small victory. Both kids are in the car and I can get Scout to school. We have a five-mile drive.
I consult my mommy checklist before I start the engine.
We drive. We talk about the 'rules of the road' and Scout is convinced everyone goes to fast. We talk about her friends at preschool. Sawyer is quiet and enjoys the ride. Scout mentions that she is tired and she talks about naptime with excitement. We talk about our family and friends. She asks questions. Sometimes the ride is quiet. Sometimes, she talks to Sawyer. Its mostly peaceful.
9:29 A.M.
Scout loves her preschool. I feel really good about dropping her off. When I sign her in I have no hesitations about leaving her. I think she feels the same way. She is glad to be with her friends and I am glad to return to Sawyer, who doesn't talk or defy me, yet. I get in the car... and I miss Scout.
Every single morning we do this. Some mornings are more difficult and others. Some mornings I physically dress her myself because I cannot stand the fight. I know she is asserting herself. She is testing me, always. She is learning who she is. And with this, I am learning how very bad I am at this stage of parenting. Its not my best time. I grow impatient easily. Letting go of control (not that I had any) and letting her walk out of the house looking like she got dressed in the dark is very, very hard for me. SHE SHOULD MATCH, I think to myself. Why do I care if she matches?
She is trying to play... and I don't know how to play. I know how to create 'order.'
The thing is, there isn't much order in a three year old universe. Nor should there be; at least not as much as I try to instill. I am learning to let go... one minute at a time.
10:00 A.M.
7:45 A.M.
"Scout, its time to get ready for preschool. I laid out your outfit, can you please get dressed?"
Scout runs around the house and screams with laughter. She goes into the romper room and gets her red tricycle. She turns it around and zips back down the hall, naked. "Look at me Mommy!" I should be proud, right? She's riding her bike. She's good at it. NOPE. I'm not proud, I am annoyed.
"Scout, you need to get dressed! C'mon!"
"Scout, can you get dressed... now? Otherwise, we are going to be late!" I am certain my tone is harsh by the third time around. Scout manages to yank a pair of pants on. Not the ones I laid out the night before. And she has forgotten underwear; a tiny matter I decide to overlook.
"Mommy, do you want to color with me?" She's already working on a masterpiece and has marker all over her tummy and hands. "Scout, you need to get dressed, RIGHT NOW!"
She marches back to her room with her bottom lip so contorted it makes me smile. "NO MOMMY, I DON'T WANT TO GO!" She drops to the floor. I feel as though I should applaud. Her dramatic performance is hands down the best I have seen.
8:19 A.M.
"Scout, can you get dressed? Its time to go to school." She is laying on her bedroom floor kicking the wall. I hear Sawyer crying... I need to breastfeed. I rip my top off because I'm hot and its easier to nurse this way. Scout comes in and starts poking at Sawyer's head. "Gooo goo gaga! Baby Sawyer!" She loves her brother. "Honey, go and get dressed or you are going to be in BIG TROUBLE!" I try to sound mean and ugly. She hides in my closet and giggles.
I finish nursing Sawyer and then he needs another diaper change. I try to brush my hair and encourage Scout to brush hers. I brush my teeth and beg Scout to "wash her teeth really, really well!" Still, no socks, no top. But teeth are brushed and hair is, well, not pointing straight up.
Scout manages to pull a shirt over her head and very proud of herself. She pulled together her own outfit. I wince. Its painful. Its hideous. It hurts to look at her. She has green pants and a purple and pink shirt on. I don't say anything. I am happy she is dressed, finally!
"Scout, honey put some shoes on and then we can go!" She whines. "Mommy, my socks aren't working! There AREN'T working!" She takes her socks off and melts into the ground. By now, I am worn out.
8:46 A.M.
Scout walks outside without her socks wearing brown boots that do not help her outfit. She is carrying her coat because she is too hot to wear it. When she gets into the car she turns cold and insists I "help her with her coat!" I do. I hoist Sawyer up into his seat and I feel a small victory. Both kids are in the car and I can get Scout to school. We have a five-mile drive.
I consult my mommy checklist before I start the engine.
- Does Saywer have his binkie?
- Does Scout have her breakfast bar? (No we don't sit down and eat breakfast in the morning- need I explain why?)
- Do I have my phone, my purse, my tea?
- Are Luna and Levi the dogs with us? (We take the for the ride every morning)
- Do I have the diaper bag?
- Does Scout have her water bottle?
- Do we have gas in the car?
We drive. We talk about the 'rules of the road' and Scout is convinced everyone goes to fast. We talk about her friends at preschool. Sawyer is quiet and enjoys the ride. Scout mentions that she is tired and she talks about naptime with excitement. We talk about our family and friends. She asks questions. Sometimes the ride is quiet. Sometimes, she talks to Sawyer. Its mostly peaceful.
9:29 A.M.
Scout loves her preschool. I feel really good about dropping her off. When I sign her in I have no hesitations about leaving her. I think she feels the same way. She is glad to be with her friends and I am glad to return to Sawyer, who doesn't talk or defy me, yet. I get in the car... and I miss Scout.
Every single morning we do this. Some mornings are more difficult and others. Some mornings I physically dress her myself because I cannot stand the fight. I know she is asserting herself. She is testing me, always. She is learning who she is. And with this, I am learning how very bad I am at this stage of parenting. Its not my best time. I grow impatient easily. Letting go of control (not that I had any) and letting her walk out of the house looking like she got dressed in the dark is very, very hard for me. SHE SHOULD MATCH, I think to myself. Why do I care if she matches?
The thing is, there isn't much order in a three year old universe. Nor should there be; at least not as much as I try to instill. I am learning to let go... one minute at a time.
10:00 A.M.
October 31, 2009
UNPREPARED
"Mommy, why did Sophia's Dad die?" Sophia is Scout's friend at preschool who lost her dad to suicide at the age of three. I could see and feel myself drop to my knees in my minds eye. The sensation that ran through me was foreign. I hadn't planned on answering questions relating to death, not to a three year old. Not now. I opened my mouth... and it all came pouring out. "Honey, Sophia's Dad was really sick. He died because he was really sick" I tried to explain. "But why he died" Scout asked again. Bob chimed in; "honey, Sophia's Daddy was very, very sick. He died because he was so sick." Scout still pondered. Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over. "But why he died?" She was being persistent.
I let it go... fast and furious it poured out of my mouth. "Honey, we ALL die. It is just part of life. We ALL die." I could HEAR Bob's eyes burning through me. And I kept going. "Sophia's Daddy died... but you are so very lucky to have YOUR Daddy."
Scout was sucking her binky and her eyes so very tired. It was edging upon 10:00 p.m. far past her bedtime.
"Why we ALL die?" She continued. I backpedaled. "It's okay honey, you are so lucky to have your Daddy! Sophia is sad, isn't she? She misses her Daddy, and we all just have to be thankful."
What in the hell am I doing? I am telling a 3 year old that WE ALL DIE! I hate myself for this. She doesn't need to know this yet. My reasoning was this: I want to be honest and upfront with her about life. I swore I would. But not about this. Not now.
"But where did he go" Scout asked.
Now how do I explain this?
"He went up to heaven honey, he is in the sky. People go to heaven when they die." I hate myself for saying this. I don't believe this nor does it have any meaning to a 3 year old. "He floated up to the sky!" I said with reverence! The hole I was digging was just getting deeper.
And that was it. Tears were streaming down my face. "Why you crying Mommy" Scout asked concerned. Why am I crying? I am kicking myself inside. I'm losing control of this conversation and I know Bob is upset with me for blurting out "We ALL die." I'm upset with me to.
"It's okay honey, I'm just sad for Sophia not having a Daddy. But Sophia is so lucky to have you as a friend Scout! And you are so lucky to have a Mommy and Daddy and we both love you so much!"
And as fast and furious as the conversation started, it was over. I felt broken. How, on earth do we tell our babies about death and sickness, pain and suffering? Or do we? How much are we supposed to protect them from the difficult realities of life? Part of my comittment to telling my children 'straight up' is that my parents were SO brilliant at keeping my brother and I "protected." It was magical how they protected us. did a left us; and it left us unprepared for *real life.* I don't resent it. I just imagined I would do it a bit different.
And now, I can't take it back.
We all DIE... this is true. That reality alone makes me choke up. And I am angry with myself that I couldn't be more clever and discerning with Scout. More prepared. More sensitive.
This conversation happened on my 36th birthday - right as I had been thinking about my own mortality and not being around for my children. The worst, very worst possible thought of missing them, growing and changing and navigating through this life.
We have no guarantees... this I know. But I am hanging on as tight a I can, trying to soak up every minute, good, bad and indifferent. Because... this is ALL we get. This ONE life. Because we ALL DIE... and every minute counts. And my children taught me this.
I let it go... fast and furious it poured out of my mouth. "Honey, we ALL die. It is just part of life. We ALL die." I could HEAR Bob's eyes burning through me. And I kept going. "Sophia's Daddy died... but you are so very lucky to have YOUR Daddy."
Scout was sucking her binky and her eyes so very tired. It was edging upon 10:00 p.m. far past her bedtime.
"Why we ALL die?" She continued. I backpedaled. "It's okay honey, you are so lucky to have your Daddy! Sophia is sad, isn't she? She misses her Daddy, and we all just have to be thankful."
What in the hell am I doing? I am telling a 3 year old that WE ALL DIE! I hate myself for this. She doesn't need to know this yet. My reasoning was this: I want to be honest and upfront with her about life. I swore I would. But not about this. Not now.
"But where did he go" Scout asked.
Now how do I explain this?
"He went up to heaven honey, he is in the sky. People go to heaven when they die." I hate myself for saying this. I don't believe this nor does it have any meaning to a 3 year old. "He floated up to the sky!" I said with reverence! The hole I was digging was just getting deeper.
And that was it. Tears were streaming down my face. "Why you crying Mommy" Scout asked concerned. Why am I crying? I am kicking myself inside. I'm losing control of this conversation and I know Bob is upset with me for blurting out "We ALL die." I'm upset with me to.
"It's okay honey, I'm just sad for Sophia not having a Daddy. But Sophia is so lucky to have you as a friend Scout! And you are so lucky to have a Mommy and Daddy and we both love you so much!"
And as fast and furious as the conversation started, it was over. I felt broken. How, on earth do we tell our babies about death and sickness, pain and suffering? Or do we? How much are we supposed to protect them from the difficult realities of life? Part of my comittment to telling my children 'straight up' is that my parents were SO brilliant at keeping my brother and I "protected." It was magical how they protected us. did a left us; and it left us unprepared for *real life.* I don't resent it. I just imagined I would do it a bit different.
And now, I can't take it back.
We all DIE... this is true. That reality alone makes me choke up. And I am angry with myself that I couldn't be more clever and discerning with Scout. More prepared. More sensitive.
This conversation happened on my 36th birthday - right as I had been thinking about my own mortality and not being around for my children. The worst, very worst possible thought of missing them, growing and changing and navigating through this life.
We have no guarantees... this I know. But I am hanging on as tight a I can, trying to soak up every minute, good, bad and indifferent. Because... this is ALL we get. This ONE life. Because we ALL DIE... and every minute counts. And my children taught me this.
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October 12, 2009
MASSIVE
The pitch of their screams pricks my ears up and registers a heartbeat that could literally bounce from my chest. When they laugh, I am elevated. When they hurt, I feel their pain in places I didn't know existed. When they learn I sometimes feel as though I see their beautiful wings spreading and I want to explode from joy and sadness at the same time.
The parenthood experience is massive.
Scout is like a miniature teenager girl. She knows what she wants. She is bitchy. She is darling and wild. She slams doors. She pouts. She isn't confident in her ability to tell people what she needs. She is hilarious and sweet. And this is all before 8:00 a.m. She challenges every part of my being every single day. She forces my sweeter side out and brings Daddy's tougher side up. How can one, little girl do this? She is amazing.
Sawyer is talking with no words and smiling out loud. His dimples make my heart sing. He is still an innocent baby. Sure to grow into his own and challenge us in ways we have yet to see. His innocence is part of what I adore about babies. They are not from this world. He has just hit the mark where he is becoming more demanding and vocal. He wants to do things now. He has expectations.
When I say 'Bending Through Motherhood' I mean it. I have to duck, rise, bend, form, gel, stretch, blend, grow. I am so glad for this.
Without this parenthood experience I wonder what kind of person I would be now? I am so thankful for the challenges and the yoga that has to be performed in order to be Scout and Sawyer's mom. Stretching oneself, I hear is a good thing.
I am stretching.... reaching.... and with them I do see the *stars* and the so-called-fairy tales are alive.
September 29, 2009
SPEED
I am astounded at how fast time passes. Always have been. When I was eight years old I worried I was getting old. When you have kids for some reason time speeds up. There is a no-stopping requirement for being a parent. You don't ever stop, unless you are sleeping and that is if you are lucky. If you are ALWAYS moving then time moves with you.
I looked at Scout's feet in the bath tub last night and they are almost as big as my whopping size 6. If she is ready to outgrow my feet, what's next? She is so proud. She keeps telling me "Mommy, you need to eat 5 fruits and vegetables everyday so you can get big and strong." How do I break it to her that I am as big as I am going to get? She is so good about eating and drinking her milk. At her age, I could swear I hid food in my mouth and spit it out when no one was looking. She actually reaches for carrots and pears. What is going on here?
Sawyer on the other hand is growing by leaps and bounds. He is tipping the scale at 12 lbs. 9oz. I cannot imagine my life without him and he has been with us for three months. I feel like I have known him forever. His smile is stunning. When he looks at us his eyes sparkle and it opens my heart up and pulls it out of my chest. I never knew I could love as much as I love these children. They have so much spirit and so much soul.
Sawyer enjoys watching Scout do everything... and Scout likes the fact that she always has an audience. He is going to be very impressionable and I know Scout will watch out for him. He is the gentler soul, like Bob; patient and soft. Scout - is the electricity in the house. We work hard to keep up with her. She NEVER stops talking... ever. Bob and I sometimes look at each other over dinner with speaking and knowing eyes "holy shit, we need a break!"
Both kids make time go by too fast. I want to bottle it. Hold it. Pause it. Stop it. I want to watch them, hold them, take mental pictures... I don't want it to go so fast. I try to take as many pictures as possible. I review the days in my head before I go to sleep (when I sleep) though they all meld together like one big fat ball of play-doh.
The best I can do is be thankful for today. It is all ANY OF US HAVE. When the kids are with me, which is almost always... I relish, even when I am having 'one of those days...' I know they are going to grow up fast. Scout wants to wear make-up and I betcha, Sawyer already wants to be just like his big sister.
I'm going to hold tight to today. Really freakin' tight.
I looked at Scout's feet in the bath tub last night and they are almost as big as my whopping size 6. If she is ready to outgrow my feet, what's next? She is so proud. She keeps telling me "Mommy, you need to eat 5 fruits and vegetables everyday so you can get big and strong." How do I break it to her that I am as big as I am going to get? She is so good about eating and drinking her milk. At her age, I could swear I hid food in my mouth and spit it out when no one was looking. She actually reaches for carrots and pears. What is going on here?
Sawyer on the other hand is growing by leaps and bounds. He is tipping the scale at 12 lbs. 9oz. I cannot imagine my life without him and he has been with us for three months. I feel like I have known him forever. His smile is stunning. When he looks at us his eyes sparkle and it opens my heart up and pulls it out of my chest. I never knew I could love as much as I love these children. They have so much spirit and so much soul.
Sawyer enjoys watching Scout do everything... and Scout likes the fact that she always has an audience. He is going to be very impressionable and I know Scout will watch out for him. He is the gentler soul, like Bob; patient and soft. Scout - is the electricity in the house. We work hard to keep up with her. She NEVER stops talking... ever. Bob and I sometimes look at each other over dinner with speaking and knowing eyes "holy shit, we need a break!"
Both kids make time go by too fast. I want to bottle it. Hold it. Pause it. Stop it. I want to watch them, hold them, take mental pictures... I don't want it to go so fast. I try to take as many pictures as possible. I review the days in my head before I go to sleep (when I sleep) though they all meld together like one big fat ball of play-doh.
The best I can do is be thankful for today. It is all ANY OF US HAVE. When the kids are with me, which is almost always... I relish, even when I am having 'one of those days...' I know they are going to grow up fast. Scout wants to wear make-up and I betcha, Sawyer already wants to be just like his big sister.
I'm going to hold tight to today. Really freakin' tight.
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