A Mother’s Day Message from me and the small people 
Today – A small miracle
March 1, 2010 By 13 Comments
Ok – maybe Miracle is a strong word….but you know, sometimes a small step forward for your child can feel like you have donned a cape and danced over the buildings of disrespectful and non-listening children?
That’s what happened this morning.
My sweet girl did something she has never done before.
After getting herself dressed….she went downstairs (all by herself mind you – no prodding), packed her lunch, packed her backpack and put on her socks and shoes.
I know you might be thinking – ‘big flippin’ deal, Danielle’. But it is. It is huge. It is monumental.
She came back upstairs and said, “Mommy, I have something to tell you…I’m all packed and ready for school. All I have left to do it put on my coat.”
I paused.
This caliber of news deserves a pause, I tell you.
I glanced down and tilted my head – trying to see if she looked as different as she suddenly felt to me. Except for the grin splitting her little face? Nope – same Delaney.
She was so proud. I was so proud.
And I promise you, she is going to know how proud I am – every single minute I am with her today.
This is a child who normally needs to be told 6-7 times, “please put your shoes on.” And she has NEVER, I repeat, NEVER packed her own lunch and backpack – at least without tremendous prompting.
It is only Monday, and yet:
Mommy – 1, World – 0.
Mommy Meditation
January 26, 2010 By 14 Comments
I was chatting with a new friend today and she asked me a question:
“Do you meditate?”
My first thought was, “No..not in the traditional sense.” As much as I would LOVE to secure a time every day that is reserved for crossing my legs, lighting a candle, clearing my mind and refocusing, I just don’t have that time.
But then I realized something.
In a way, I DO meditate.
The small dude is *almost* past wanting to nap. Unless I lay down with him. And by ‘lay down’, I mean, get him some milk, whip out my extra blanket and make myself comfy with him snuggled deep under my left arm.
As he slurps his milk, I allow my eyes to shut. As his eyes drift closed, I allow my mind to clear. I focus on his breathing as it syncs with mine. I can literally hear his thoughts leaving his head, I can hear his heart slow and his breathing even out. He nestles deeper into me, finding a way to crawl ever so slightly under my skin.
It is within these moments that a form of Mommy Meditation takes place. I focus on the here and now. I banish the notion that this small guy will one day shy away from me. I ignore the possibility that he will not kiss and hug me at all, let alone in public. I, instead, relish the weight of his head on my shoulder and his right leg thrown over mine as though to hold me in place.
I forget about work, pretend ‘what’s for dinner’ is someone else’e problem and sink into my one and only crucial role: Mommy.
So, yes, I guess the answer to the question is that I do, in fact, meditate.
Being a Mommy is Hard
October 8, 2009 By 17 Comments
Every three to four minutes her little body is brutalized by another earthquake of coughs. Her mouth opens, preparing for the epicenter to begin its shift – her lungs, her belly, her throat – all on fire.
Two nights now, no sleep. The coughs wake my sweet girl with every brutal rattle.
I’ve tried everything. Steam. Humidifiers. Propping her bed up. Vicks on her chest. Vicks on her feet. Tea with honey. Triaminic. Popsicles. Water. Juice. (The meds not at the same time).
I feel so helpless. Her head is in my lap. She starts to drift…she is so tired she can’t even suck her thumb. She whimpers even as she falls into clearly uncomfortable, and ridiculously temporary slumber. Even her subconscious knows the sleep minutes are numbered.
I’m her Mommy and yet, I can’t make it stop. It seems so simple really.
A cough. A stupid, body wracking, throat wrenching, belly tightening, chest heaving cough.
And made worse by the notion that I should have taken her to the doctor today – but I hoped we could kick it with rest, tea and snuggling.
She is now approaching 24 hours with no sleep (we suffered through a failed nap attempt today). She is inconsolable, and I am supposed to be the one with the answers, with the comfort.
Word to the wise – coughs do not respond to the Mommy-school-of-simple-solutions. At least not for us.
Being a Mommy is hard.
Time keeps ticking.
April 27, 2009 By 1 Comment
I remember this moment like it was yesterday.
Delaney wasn’t even 24 hours old.
Amazingly, one day followed the next. I had a crawler, then a walker, then a babbler and now a talker.
She is growing into this little person and it is a true miracle to witness.
This Fall will be the first step in my ‘wow-she’s-really-growing-up’ test. Delaney will enter kindergarten. I’ll help her put her little uniform on, pack her a lunch, drive her to school and let her go.
Ok – serious sappy issues over here. I just teared up as I wrote that – and all this time I’ve had myself pegged as the mom that was looking forward to having a kindergartner in school. What if I was wrong?
Tonight was a mini-orientation for parents sending kids to school for the first time. Our priest spoke. He is Heavenly. No exaggeration. No play on words. He really is a divine human being.
He told a story about a little girl who had a cleft palate. He said she was always embarrassed. Always shy. She often told kids she had been cut by glass, because somehow, it felt more acceptable than saying she was born different. She was positive no one would ever love her the way her family did.
One of the teachers, Mrs. Leonard (whom the little girl described as ’round, smiling and full of love’), conducted annual hearing tests – the kids would face away from her and place their hands over their ears. She would say one of two sentences, “What color are your shoes?” or “Is the ocean blue?” and was somehow able to determine a child’s hearing (clearly we’ve come a long way since then, yes?)
But when this little girl entered the room, she turned her back on Mrs. Leonard and waited patiently for one of the two sentences. She instead heard 7 words that changed her life.
“I wish you were my little girl.”
This, our priest explained, is how every child at our school should feel. Don’t think I didn’t cry. I did. Just a little. And I still can’t get rid of the lump in my throat.
I love knowing my child will be so very loved. I’m petrified at the thought of having so little time with her left. I’m struck down by the guilt that I sometimes can’t wait to have her in school.
But there is no going back. Time, at least in our house, keeps right on ticking.
If you find a way to put it on pause, even for a little bit, you’ll let me know, won’t you?
Because I’m the Mommy – That’s Why
March 5, 2009 By 7 Comments
I grew up believing I would never, repeat, NEVER, ever say certain phrases to my children:
“Because I said so.”
“Do what you are told.”
“If you don’t stop crying, I will give you something to cry about.”
“Can’t you two just get along?”
“Don’t make me come in there!”
and, my personal favorite
“Because I’m the Mommy, that’s why”
In case you were wondering, I was wrong. In fact, I am certain, in the last four and a half years, I have used all of them. Many times.
Take today for example.
I have one sick child. And one wild child. The wild child feels compelled to act squirrely just because. He is taking joy in harassing his sister. (As a girlfriend so eloquently put it to me: Can you imagine anyone other than another one of your children who would get away with bothering your sick, sweet one – without you beating them up?)
He is suddenly balking at potty training – and by balking I mean peeing on the couch. And sitting in it. He is yelling in gibberish and flopping around on everyone and everything. He is picking up toys and throwing things. Simply put, he is a destructible.
Even when he acts like this, I am no longer fooled. Tempted. Touched. But, not fooled.
So, he has spent time in his room today. And we had a talk about respect. I deserve respect from him (yes, I know he is not quite 3) because I spent 9 months carrying him, because I rearranged my internal organs to fit his growing body, I spent at least 4 months getting kicked in the kidneys, and while labor was easy (I laughed him out – I really did) I still had to endure an epidural. I fed him from my body. I cuddled and loved and taught and wiped.
I deserve respect BECAUSE I AM THE MOMMY, THAT’S WHY!
And, I’m no longer ashamed to own these fabulous, tried and true retorts.
P.S. As I came into the office to work, I actually heard my husband say, “You are crusin’ for a bruisin’” to Coop. Hmmmm….guess I’m not the only one getting use out of the 70′s playbook.
Breathing In
February 27, 2009 By 4 Comments
I resolved this week to appreciate the small moments my children sprinkle into my life – the giggles you wish you could bottle, the mischievous grins that happen for absolutely no reason, the incessant interruptions, the refusing to eat, the basketball games that require ’just-one-more-shot-Mommy’, the non-stop singing (I’m convinced Barbie Diamond Castle could be a Top 10 hit, if only because it is so catchy), even the pushing and shoving )reminds me of my own childhood.
I’ve even found myself hugging longer and asking for more ‘kishes’. I am stopping whenever I am asked to and I am smiling more.
I have been challenging myself to breathe in, to revel in their innocent smell, in their silly faces. I want to remember every moment. I don’t want to take even a second for granted.
And this was all before I even knew Beth’s story. This was before I learned of her heartache – or recognized that the woman I met only a few weeks ago – who smiled the whole time we talked – was stronger than I could imagine. One year ago yesterday, Beth lost twin boys after carrying them for 5 1/2 months and delivering them. I’m certain she lost a piece of her heart that day, but, when I met her, I had no idea. It seems to me, that someone who has experienced that type of heartache (not to mention additional heartache the week before we met) should be allowed to wear her pain like a warm coat. But Beth, well, I am amazed to say, has composure and strength I only dream of having.
She is living for each moment. She is treasuring her family. She is standing strong. Doing the same is the very least I can do.
