Do as I say, not as I do!!

In general I disagree with the premise of not practicing what we preach. However, every now and then my mommy-hood-ness gives me license for things that I don't allow my children to do, for instance BITING!

The rule in our house is no hitting, no biting, and for pity's sake, keep your hands to yourself!!

Some rules are made to be broken. This morning I was standing in the kitchen and Jonas, my early riser, wandered all sleepy headed from his bedroom. He looked so deliciously rumpled that when he came over for his morning hug, I couldn't help but chomp on his neck a few times. There is something about the way that boy smells, tastes and squeals in protest, that makes my heart sing and my spirit feel light. Nuzzling him is the equivalent of drinking in all of his goodness.

On the off chance that you need permission, or motivation, let me encourage you to nibble on your children today, or someday soon, I guarantee it will make you and your child happy!

"When I'm growd up!"

Snoofus Poofus and I have been spending some quality one on one time together the last two days, or so. She's been sick, so I've been her companion while Daddy has been keeping the other Munchkins busy.

Yesterday she informed me that she is always going to be my "baby girl" even when she's growd up. I responded with my customary "really", in order to get her to expound further. It works every time. She said, "yes but I'm not going to live with you!" "Okay" I say. She says, "Because I want to get married, and I can't live with you if I'm married! So, at this point of course I'm curious, and have to ask, "Why do want get married Snoofie?" "I want to get married because, it's fun to kiss on the lips!" she says. In order to take the sting out of her refusal to live with me once she's married, she promises to build her house in the back yard, close enough so that we could walk back and forth to each other's houses. What a relief!

The last time we had a similar conversation she told me that she wants to get married so that she can have kids, and that she will LET me babysit, but that I'm not allowed to spank her kids. She says she's only going to put her kids in "time out" when they're naughty. Let's hope her off spring respond to "time outs" a little better than she does.

These priceless conversations give me little peeks into the workings of my precocious 4 year old's mind, and I adore what I see there. The above conversation let me know a few things, one: she sees being married as something happy, two: she wants to have a family and three: she likes me enough at this point, that living in the back yard seems ideal to her. All of her stated ambitions communicate that, for the most part aside from (spankings) she wants to replicate, in her adult life, what she observes in her parents life.

I'm sure Snoofie will, to some extent outgrow her current desires, at least the part about living in the backyard, and that's OK. What I hope she holds onto, however, is her desire to be surrounded by, family, friends, and someone who loves and cherishes her. If my daughter is as happy and blessed in her adult life as I've been in mine, I will be pleased and thankful, indeed!!

Somethings We Should Never Outgrow!

A long year of music lessons was coming to an end. It was the last class, and we were all, ready to be done, each for different reasons. I had one more mostly painful Tuesday afternoon session to endure, my final 60 minute guilt trip, over having not practiced, note recognition, and Mr. Snowman, more faithfully with my 4 year old.

Jonas was up, his turn had come, I felt more tense than he did. I squeezed his arm a little too hard, my expression was a little too stern, I wanted to communicate to my son with my non verbal gestures that it was time for him to focus. My cues did not cause him to straighten in his chair, he did not get his fingers into position, instead he looked at me with tears brimming, and said, "I'm having a bad day! Can I get some loving?"

I was immediately contrite, feeling fresh guilt, and remorse, this time for wounding my son's fragile sensibilities, and for not noticing that he needed patience, much more than he needed to be whipped into shape.

After some reflecting on our little non musical exchange, I'm left wondering, when did I begin to see my own emotional needs as weakness? Why am I, as an adult afraid to say, "I'm having a bad day. Can I get some loving?" Is it really more mature to assume that people should read my mind and know what I need or want? Is it more grown up to grow resentful over my loved ones' inability to read my mind correctly?

Although it feels needy and vulnerable, I wonder if it wouldn't be better for me to take a page out of my son's book? Perhaps I should let his simple entreaty teach me something about how I should communicate? Maybe, just maybe, I could learn to express myself in a way that inspires compassion, rather than defensiveness in those around me? Maybe....?????

My children really have taught me as much as I've taught them!

Sometimes I Love It When They Cry!

Before you conclude that I am sick and twisted, let me explain. It's June (summer in most parts). Summer means that I, the mommy, spend, weeks, days, and long, long hours at my other job, the non-mommy job.

I love my work, love the patients, (except for the ones that don't bathe), love my Doctors, love the people that I get to work with. In short it's a nice break for me, the mommy, to get out of the house and do something that stimulates the clinical side of my brain.

Today was the first day, of my long summer stint of days, at the hospital. I came home around 8:30. The twins had already been in bed for a little while. My Buddy Boy, had gotten up to use the bathroom at which point he saw me. I kissed him good night, thinking that would be the end of it. Five minutes later he came into my room indignant about something. I told him it was bedtime, and I'd see him in the morning. Ten minutes after that, my husband came into our room and asked if I could go console The Man Cub?

Peeking into his room, I saw him, boo hooing for all that he was worth, face buried in his pillow. I scooted him over, laid down on his single mattress with him, and began to stroke his back, then his hair. The crying stopped. He turned over, and with our noses touching, he sighed, lip quivering, he drifted off to sleep.

Something about the way my son missed me today warmed my Mother's Heart. Very soon there will come a day, when I'll have to twist his arm for the privilege of a Good Night Kiss. So for tonight, I'll cherish the fact that nothing else in the world can soothe the woes of my children like their mommy!

Cherish the sight, smell, sound and feel of your children, in this moment, before the moment changes forever.

Good Night...

Tell Me About When I Was a Baby..

I woke the other morning to the sound of fruit being chopped and my 4 year old daughter's voice. She was asking my husband about when she was a baby. Rather than tell her, he decided to show her. He plugged the camcorder into the computer, brought out her birth video, and let the memory unfold in front of her.

Blurry eyed and exhausted, I pushed back the covers, and followed the pull toward Memory Lane.

I watched myself as a drugged, helpless, almost lifeless, being, go through the drama of delivering twins. I watched the fear play across the face of my husband, I watched medical professionals, move with frenetic efficiency around me, and our babies. I watched almost transfixed, traumatized.

I was surprised to feel such diverse and conflicting emotions simultaneously, as my eyes were glued to the screen. I seemed to be having an odd out of body experience, as though I were watching someone else, a different family, one that looked an awful lot like mine. More than anything, I felt a momentary panic, an almost desperate need to seperate myself from the scene, from that stage, yet perversely drawn to it at the same time.

I had an overwhelming desire to not go back. I didn't want to remember, the pain, the anxiety, the uncertainty, the sleeplessness. It struck me then, that time is merciful and that the memory softens what was reality. Moving on, is almost always better. I want to remember that.

I want to remember, when I'm having those fleeting feelings of my life slipping away that it isn't slipping a way, it's just entering a new chapter.

I also want to remember that each stage has it's sweetness and hardship, and that to live fully I need to embrace and learn from both. I want to parent with grace, for myself and for my children, so that, when I stroll down memory lane, either in my mind or on screen, I can feel a sense that I embraced the moments while I was in them, a sense that I was present, and that the next stage demands that I be present as well.

Regardless of how old my children are, how they got here, or what their birth experience was like.... I'm a mother, and that is a gift, a gift I plan to cherish.

Your Children Might Be Rednecks If.....

I know that at some point I should make them wear shoes, make them keep their clothes on, and insist that they stop peeing outside, but.....

I've been watching my children run wild outdoors a lot in the last week or so. The weather has been nice, which means they almost never want to come inside. It has done wonderful things for my soul to see my 3 little people sit together on the porch swing, I listen to them pretend, all manner of different things. They pretend they're on a train to somewhere. They speak in British accents, usually one of them is the parent, and so on. I feel as though I'm a fortunate eavesdropper, who is listening in on their childhood. As I listen in, I become saddened by the fact that they're getting older by the second, and pretty soon they wont be quite so easily entertained, by the simple pleasures, of lots of space, and sibling camaraderie.

I can't stop time, but I can stop and smell the roses now and then. I can watch, listen, engage, and enjoy these sweet spring days. The imaginations of my energetic tribe are blooming way better than my very neglected Lilac Bushes along my back fence. I never was much of a green thumb with regard to plants. I seem to be better a growing happy children.

Hopefully they'll continue mature, the way they should, but even more importantly, I pray I remember to let them be KIDS, even if that means they never want to wear shoes.....

Desperately in search of the magic potion!

I have every hope of finishing strong, but little to no energy, to ensure that it happens.

I've been wondering lately how school teachers do it? How do they manage to steer, teach, direct 25-30 children, 5 days a week, 9 months out of the year? Perhaps I should hunt down a teacher and ask him/her.

As a Home Schooling Mommy, with one student, I'm fresh out of get up and go. We have 76 hours left to complete the required time allotment for second grade. It might as well be 1000 hours, because 5 more seconds seems like more than I can bear at this exact moment.

This year has been amazing. I've loved nearly every moment of it. We've had Viking Funerals, colored murals of the Battle of Hastings, we've sprouted seeds, dissected flowers, made costumes of empresses, counted endlessly, written dates, worked with manipulatives, read fascinating biographies, and the list goes on.

This school year, I've learned as much as my second grader. Perhaps I shouldn't admit that. The most important thing for me as a teacher, at this point is to instill in her a love of learning. I want her to be curious about everything. I want her to learn how to think, and reason. Most of all at the end of my time as her teacher I want to look back and be able to say that my pupil is intelligent, wise, kind, compassionate and discerning.

Maybe all I needed after all, was to re-visit my goals. Seeing them may have given me enough energy to get through this day and possibly, the next 75 hours as well. However a little magic potion couldn't hurt either...

If you know where I could get some???