If I could manage to keep them from putting that 6 week-old Pomeranian puff ball with irresistible brown eyes in my arms, I’d be fine.
They cradled him like a newborn. They sprinkled Johnny Jump-Ups on his back. They cooed at him and loved him up.
And then the pleading started.
“Mom, he won’t get too big.” Continue reading →
At this moment, Jenny is entranced by the Tim Burton version of Alice In Wonderland. Will finished making a batch of pancakes and is downloading skateboarding videos. Later, they’ll make a birthday card for their cousin, ride their bikes on this glorious Fall day, and go to a bowling birthday party.
I’m not rushing around taking them to soccer practice, a Boy Scout meeting, a dance recital or karate lessons.
I take a minimalist’s approach to parenting by not jamming their schedules with lessons and practices.
I take issue with kids having schedules.
I could over-schedule them and decide what they should pursue to try to pave the way for an enriched future full of interests. Continue reading →
Just received an email from a dear friend. Her youngest has gone off to college. She lives on the other side of the country, and yet I can feel how her life has shifted in a plate tectonics sort of way. I’d like to be camped at her house with cocktails, dinners, movies and whatever her favorite distractions may be. I know that the gesture would be appreciated, but that’s the last thing she would want right now.
Our parenting styles are very similar. That is to say, our worlds revolve around our kids, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
I’m a recovering helicopter parent. When Will was small, I obsessed about every bite he took, the length of every nap, and his clothing preferences. I could tell you what kind of mood he was in by the expression on his face. I knew his smell, the rumblings he muttered when he slept, his favorite songs, and his weird sign language that took the place of speech for a scary long time.
We seemed to communicate on a cellular level.
When Jenny came along, I was presented with a new being to cherish and obsess over. I was in tune with her on a totally different, feminine level. I read her moods, felt her needs and anticipated her wants before she had to express them. Continue reading →
I remember the first time she was placed in my arms. Even though I was weakened and exhausted from the process, I remember thinking that I’d never felt stronger. I felt empowered to completely love and protect her with everything I had. Nothing could stop me from creating the best possible environment so that she’d have the healthiest life.
I remember her scent, her warmth, her steely charcoal eyes, her long legs and tiny fingers. I remember the dark, matted curls at the base of her tiny head.
My heart expanded to hold all the love I felt for her, to the point where I feared my heart might burst.
I felt more love than I thought possible.
Before she was born, I was afraid that since I showered so much love on Will, I would not have the same amount of love for Jenny. The day Jen was born, I learned that I have an infinite amount of love. Continue reading →
I do follow the rules in unfamiliar situations. I read the signs, ask for directions, follow the guidelines and survey the expert opinions. But once I’m in my comfort zone, I start to look at things differently. I start to ask, “Why?” I’m not trying to be belligerent. I’m trying to understand if the reason something “has always been done that way” is really the right reason for doing it that way.
I ask a lot of questions.
Public school is the way that educating has always been done. Is that the right way for the three of us?
I have a lot of questions.
The decision of home school versus public school is weighing heavily. Actually, it wouldn’t weigh anything if my natural inclination was to follow the herd. I wonder if the herd has all the answers. Just because public school has always been the commonly accepted way to teach, can’t there be other good options for kids and moms on the fringe of the herd? Continue reading →
Apparently life is not waiting for me to catch up. It’s time to put an end to my little pity party, round up the soggy wads of kleenex, wipe the mascara from under my eyes and move on.
Ever since the kids could walk, I’ve asked them to get a kleenex when they see someone is hurt or crying. It’s not because I wanted them to wait on me, but handing someone a kleenex when they are crying is a great way to show you care when you don’t know what the hell to say. It’s better than standing there waiting for the sobbing person to tell you, “Could you get me a kleenex, already.”
Tuesday night, Will wised up and brought me the whole box.
There’s too much to do, too much to plan, and too much to anticipate to spend any more time licking my wounds.
Enough is enough. Continue reading →
I knew this woman who had three kids and every year at Christmas, she put up a lavish Advent Calendar. She would wrap one present for each kid for each day on the calendar. That’s 75 little packages. I think she was running for the Mom Of The Year Award. I’ve not seen her in awhile. Maybe she buckled under the pressure of all those holiday expectations.
I made an Advent Calendar a few years ago.
Each day Will and Jenny open one envelope. They take turns opening, since there is only one envelope for each day. The envelope contains a little note that is their “present” for the day. It’s not always a package to open, in fact, it usually isn’t.
The note might say:
My son returned safely from an adventure with his father.
This morning they left to go hiking and fishing. I hate these days. I feel like I’m holding my breath the whole time he’s gone. When he returns, I greet him with open arms and excitedly ask about all the fun that was had and hope for details without prying too much.
There are two schools of thought about how to handle parenting when one parent is a narcissist. One school strongly urges that there be NO visits. I belong to the school that suggests that the children need tools for dealing with a narcissistic parent. These adventures and visits are teaching my kids a lot. But, there is always the issue of safety.
A narcissist completely lacks empathy for others. Their dad doesn’t recognize that they may be frightened or nervous or uncomfortable with exposure on the side of a mountain. He’s only thinking of himself, so their emotions aren’t part of his reality.
The other point is that the children are simply extensions of the narcissist. If the N loves to show the world that he is the bravest pilot or the fastest skier, then his children must be brave, fast and fearless – whether they are, or not. Continue reading →
