Mommyness » Sassifiable

stress free Christmas

Emotional Intelligence, Mommyness 2 Responses »

Dec 102012

This is a first.

The first Christmas in a new house with a new blended family. New traditions and money managing and new ways of thinking of holiday seasons. The gifts, the packaging, the family, the expectation, the stress… it’s enough to kill a girl. So I stopped. I stopped and I reframed and I thought about things… all the way through.

Coming from different backgrounds presents it’s own obstacles. My husband, being Scottish, was raised having nice refined low key holidays with a few meaningful gifts under a real tree purchased right before Christmas. My family? Over the top is an understatement. My mom (and I love her for it) makes Christmas wayyyyyyyyy special. Trees in every room and two hour present opening sessions at five in the morning on the special day.

A girl can’t help but have some of that over the top-ism rub off. Christmas used to be a time of panic and freaking out because I couldn’t keep up with my parents in the gift department. Worried that it wasn’t going to be magical enough or decorated enough or just plain… not enough. It became more about stuff than it did just spending time together.

This year. This year is a first. I put up my fancy tree that wasn’t quite so fancy this year graced with handmade paper snowflakes by the mini Pirate Ninja crew (which actually makes it the fanciest tree I’ve ever had) Placed my lighted garlands (with more snowflakes) and hung up a few decorations around the house. The kids each have a little tree that they had a super good time decorating in their rooms; simple with just lights and few balls. And then we went together as a family and got our real fir tree for the playroom that the kids decorated all by themselves.

It was a blast. And not TOO much. Just enough I think, to make extra special super special for them. It’s not about showing off, it’s about making the holiday bright for the wee ones.

Presents? One really big special gift and then a few smaller ones for good measure for all six of them. They’ll be getting gifts from grandparents and extended family under the tree too.

The most important gift we’ll be giving our children is not freaking out over the holidays. A laid back, relaxing, FUN day (for once), without Mommy being sick to her stomach because she’s not enough. Toys are forgotten quickly… it’s the time spent together that matters most. Finally… at the age of 40, I GET it. Finally.

It is enough. It’s more than enough. All I want for Christmas, I already have. More than I ever thought possible. Thanks Santa… I musta been a reallygood girl this year.

Merry Stress Free Christmas ♥

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step-monster

Mommyness 1 Response »

Nov 032012

I’ve written little blurps and bits and bobs (I’m picking up Scottish slang from my husband. Can you tell?) about being a stepmother, but today for some reason I can’t get this certain feeling outta my whatnots. This obviously means I need to write about it. (duh) When the whatnots start tingling it’s rather reminiscent of having a spidey sense… except mine whacks me and says “Write this or die.” (Proverbially speaking of course). Right. So here goes.

I’ve been realizing more and more what a gift children are. (horrid sentence structure I know. I’m only on cup #2 of coffee so shushit)

That’s it. In a nutshell. But obviously I’m going to tell you why.

We ignore our kids sometimes. We don’t have the time or the ability to be completely PRESENT 24 hours a day 7 days a week. It’s just not possible to maintain that level of intensity for that long. The very best we can do is pick and choose our moments and work really really diligently to catch the good stuff. The little mumbles under the breath and the sideways loving looks and the snuggling kisses before bed and finding out the real reason behind a big fat hissy fit and kissing boo boo’s (real or imagined) and understanding (the best I can) what the world looks like from a “fidgets” two foot tall perspective.

How does this relate in any way to being a step parent? Objectivity. You see I CHOSE to be part of the life of three wee ones; chose to come into their life and try to understand their perspective. In addition to my three daughters it’s more than a handful of handful’s. I chose to step into the world of step-monster-ism and “you’re not the boss of me” and “what do we call you” and unkind childish words flipping to pure kindness in milliseconds and hugs and cuddles and jealousy from my own children and jealousy from them and tempering myself as a parent in a brand new way.

Where to step and how to step and when to not step at all is the dance of the “step” parent. It’s given me a view of parenting that I never knew was possible. It’s helped me to understand my biological daughters that much better and see the world in a brand new way with tons more compassion and patience and kindness. This is the most important job I will ever have… being mom and now stepmom with all the choices that entails. Choices to listen and be in the moment… to the best of my ability. Personally… I think it’s the best choice I’ve ever made.

Step-monster. It suits me.

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dependent-see

Mommyness 1 Response »

Oct 092012

I have the joy of taking my three littlest munchkins to school. There’s something magical about holding hands and seeing their fresh, smiling, just-eaten-breakfast-and-brushed-teeth-with-a-tiny-bit-of-toothpaste-still-on-their-little-pink-cheeks… yeah. It’s a very sweet way to start the day and I cherish it. I’ve missed doing that for years because of working outside the home. I’m so very grateful I have the chance to see this magic before they grow up and want nothing to do with me… you know that’s coming. My oldest already gets embarrassed when I want to kiss her goodbye. “Ick. Mommmmm!!! People are watching.” I do it anyway of course because paybacks are a … I mean I don’t care what her little friends think. And she owes me for the colicy sleepless nights the first three months she was alive. Right.

Anyway, there’s this woman at school. She has two little ones and a huge swollen tummy with her belly button popped out. I don’t like to assume but it appears as if she’s ready to pop out another munchkin at any given moment. This vision would normally make me smile. Except her first grader and preschooler are chauffeured to the school’s front door in a double stroller. Every. Single. Day.

These are also the same children that cry at the door and refuse to go into school. The same children that have to be physically pulled away from swollen belly mommy by teachers and principals … every… single… day. The mom doesn’t even have the decency to be embarrassed and coddles them and makes it harder for them by pressing her nose against the glass and waving and yelling “bye babies”. It’s separation anxiety FOSTERED by a parent getting her needs met from her children.

It’s unpleasant to watch.

I’ve coddled my children in the past. I’ve put myself last every single time to the point where I never went out and did ANYTHING besides work. That’s the guilt of a single momma talkin’… I’m gone from them all day (even though they’re in school) so dammit I’m sure as hell gonna spend every spare second that I can with them when I’m NOT working. You see I had ENORMOUS guilt for missing class parties and field trips and being that Betty Crocker (as if) mommy that was a permanent fixture in the classroom.

Sounds like good parenting. It’s not. It’s not balanced or healthful and not a good snapshot of what adulthood looks like to children. I used to think that by NOT going out (ever) and NOT dating (ever) and NOT doing things with my friends that I was sacrificing for my children. It simply fostered a dependency. Now my girls didn’t cling to my legs and cry because they didn’t want to go to school. No strollers were necessary in preschool kindergarten OR first grade (for shitsakes) and there were NO nose prints on the glass from me waving them down the hall crying. (My daughters would have KILLED ME for that shit. Dang.) But they had a bit of trouble when I got remarried.

They’d never seen me with anyone else than their father; for four years they had me all to themselves. Seeing that my youngest is five… well she doesn’t remember seeing mommy kissing any man, ever, at any time. Heck my oldest doesn’t remember either (Prince Charmingless was very charming… less. Story for another day.). so seeing Mommy and this new “man” dancing in the kitchen or giving kisses on the cheek… holy smokes how do we deal with that???

We do our children a disservice by fostering dependency. Our dependents SEE our behaviors and learn how to BE… from us. Balance, per usual, is key. Parents are to be stalwart and present and available, but kids need to know it’s okay to check out what’s in the big world. And then… need to know they can come running back anytime they need. Interdependence is an undervalued characteristic, especially when it comes to parenting. (We’re all in this together = it’s takes a village to raise a child = all entwined interdependently to provide the best we can for our children) Operating under the premise of scarcity… there’s not enough caring to go around for everyone and you MUST love me and only me.

I’ve known moms who were jealous of teachers to the point of hating them. Scary right? Well, to be fair, here comes Miss Whatshername saying all the same things you say but somehow when SHE says it… it sticks. I get that feeling. Conversely, instead of getting jealous or mad… I totally dig it. It’s backup. It’s validation. It’s that “grown up coalition secret handshake club” that always used to freak me out as a kid. I always wondered if the teacher had been having secret meetings with my mother behind my back. Now I’m sure of it.

The more healthful connections your children have the better. On that note… the more healthful connections YOU have… the better. Focus on healthful mind you… no flop houses or taking kids to clubs. (ew.) But I can’t help but think if I’d been around other people more or possibly gone on one date or had a girls night with my friends… it might have made for an easier transition for my girls. If you’re anything like me and believe that parenting means you always put yourself last… stop it. Unless you’re a healthy happy parent you won’t be the best example.

Oh and they learn how to take care of themselves from you. So don’t be like belly popping nose smearing dependency fostering mom I see every morning. Allow your kids to have some independence (with boundaries) and give YOURSELF some independence (with boundaries. no strippers. at least not before you call me to come over) and it’s all win-win-win.

Remember, just like nobody wants to be around the smelly kid nobody wants to be around a whiny kid either. Give your kids the gift of chutzpah from the example set… by you.

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curvy

Mommyness, Relationships, Self Esteem, Sensuality 2 Responses »

Oct 042012

I have this figure. size 12 (certain times of the month 14. meh. bloating.)

I love having curves in all the right places. I used to always wish I wasn’t buxom, hated having a smaller waist and bigger hips. I just wanted to be straight up and down like the Jordache Jeans models… this was back in the day where everyone wanted to look like Kate Moss and being waif like was considered hot. My twenties were not good years for self esteem.

As I went through my thirties I began to stop comparing myself to others. Began really paying attention to how my body moved when I walked, what my round rump looked like in a pair of well fitting jeans. I taught myself to walk in heels and appreciate what it FELT like to be feminine. Why did I have to learn all those things at the tender age of thirty? (insert eye roll here)

Sensuality was stolen from me at an early age. Strict catholicism can do that to a young girl. Make up was bad. Cleavage was a sin. Batting eyelashes flirtatiously would get you years in purgatory. And premarital sex? Well that was just asking to be sent straight to Hell… with or without a hand basket.

When I “became a woman” (I hated that phrase… they should’ve said when you become crazy once a month from hormones and feel like tiny elves are in your uterus slicing you with razor blades) I literally thought I was bleeding to death. I was afraid, ashamed, and embarrassed. Mom never talked about those things. I never knew what a “period” was or why we had them… never knew about sex or good touch or that it was okay to kiss a boy but you had to stop him at second base. Birth control was for Protestant sluts. And I never ever DARED ask why when I had a crush on a boy I had this pleasant sensation between my legs when he looked at me a certain way. Why the tiny nodules underneath my shirt got firm and why my bikini underwear would get a little moist.

I didn’t DARE ask those things. It was all part of the mystery of sin.

It wasn’t until college that I even knew what a clitoris was… so yeah a good portion of my freshman year was spent… well you know how it is when you discover masturbating for the first time.

I’ve spent my adult life claiming my feminine. Learning to revel in the sultry and the sweet deliciousness of the curvy girl that I’ve always been. There was a day when that was the ideal of beauty, as evidenced by the gorgeous Marilyn below.

A relationship with Prince Charmingless didn’t help much either. Curvy meant disgusting. My looks were used as a weapon. Clothes cut with box cutters because they were size 12 or 10 and not size 4 or 6. Mocked for having size 36 DD’s. Walking down the stairs and being told to go back up and change because he wouldn’t be seen with me in public… that way.

You see… I chose to marry someone who felt about me the way I was TAUGHT to feel about me. Not consciously of course… but all that unresolved gunk in the insidious subconscious made that choice. I’m no victim… I chose it. But then somehow, someway, somewhere I made a different choice. I began to reclaim who I was. I had to learn ALL OVER AGAIN. Call it a second adolescence. I call it “With a little help from my friends.” (my best friend +Jscott Mays … he had a lot do with this process. love you. thank you.)

It’s taken me until 40 to internalize a chunk of this… and I’m sure I have a long way to go. As a result of me learning to like me, inside AND out, I have met someone (the one) who loves all of me. Again… I chose someone who feels about me the way I feel about me. +Nick Beenham has shown me love and affection and attention and unconditional positive regard that I never knew possible. Sometimes those memorex memories come flooding back and I expect him to be critical like Charmingless was. He never has. Not once. He loves me… loves the way I look… and loves me for the woman I am. I feel the same about him… well exchange the word woman for man obviously. Sheesh.

Having four daughters makes me realize how important it is that I accept myself… so that I can help them do the same. My oldest daughter is built just like me… at 9 she already needs a bra. I tell her she is gorgeous and perfect and beautiful… because she is. My other daughters are of slighter build but when they start developing curves… you better believe they’ll get the same message. (They all eat healthfully btw… plenty of fruits and veggies along with whole grains. My oldest daughter would rather eat Hummus than candy. Go figure.)

Curves are beautiful. Screw what the magazines say. If you take a cross section of the population and show them a picture of Marilyn versus Twiggy… curves will win every time. I will do everything in my power to assure that they know what it is to be feminine… whatever that entails. With love and appropriateness and more than a little bit of sass.

Just like I had to RE-PARENT myself so that I can PARENT them. Thin or curvy or somewhere in between… I’ll do my very best to teach those beautiful girls that they ARE… beautiful.

Girls rule. Always… in all ways.

Oh yeah… I need this bathing suit. Like badly.

~ a.G.~

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gimme

Mommyness No Responses »

Aug 102012

Sense of entitlement.

Where did it come from? When you hear adults speak of their childhood you usually hear something like this:

“When I was a kid we didn’t get everything handed to me on a damned silver platter. We walked to school and were lucky to even HAVE shoes. Santa Claus brought the same toys that mysteriously disappeared from our rooms and we ate Spam for every meal. Heat? YOU had heat? We had to huddle by a candle and sleep in the same bed and didn’t see a dentist for 20 years and and and… ”

Yeah. You get the idea.

My childhood wasn’t much different. I have a brother who has Cerebral Palsy, unable to walk or talk still to this day at the age of 42. Life was difficult surrounded by hospital staff and tears all the time. It was a solemn lonely childhood that didn’t allow room for a toy every time we went to the store. Didn’t allow for getting pats on the back for getting good grades as that was expected. I didn’t have dance lessons and the coolest clothes and three years of private pre-school and video games and a television in my room and and and…

None of that.

Funny thing… my parents now spoil the ever loving snot out of my three daughters. I ask them repeatedly… “What happened to you people? What happened to the parents that could stop me with one raised eyebrow? What happened to your favorite word NO? What the heck?” Their response? “We’re grandparents now and can spoil our grandkids if we want.”

Thanks. Great. I’m the bad guy. I get it. It’s MY job to say NO and set boundaries and get called MEANIE and not allow my children to become spoiled selfish children with a sense of entitlement. It’s MY job to teach them about gratitude and the worth of things given to them… matter of fact they will be EARNING their own money to buy the things they like. (Except for Christmas and Birthdays and the like)

I was unable to raise my children the way I liked. My mother (bless her heart) watched my daughters while I worked full time outside the home. In those three years that I went to work everyday, Gramma did as Grandmothers will… and my children now expect toys at every store and parties for good report cards.

They do not throw fits or act inappropriately as they are very well behaved little girls… and if this is the only issue I have with them I consider myself lucky. They ask politely and take NO for an answer rather easily and always express gratitude for what they’ve been given. But they do have a bit of an expectation set by doting grandparents.

When my oldest daughter asked for a toy at the store yesterday I asked her…

Me: “Lainey do you remember what you got for Christmas two years ago?”
Lainey: “No.”
Me: “Do you remember the time we went and played together at the beach?
Lainey: “Best time ever Mom!!!”
*long pause*
Lainey: “I get it Mom.”

Yes. This. It’s our TIME that matters to children. They want want want because that’s what TV teaches. Spoiling a child hurts them terribly. Try a family game night instead of letting them play video games by themselves for four hours. Try instilling a sense of pride by verbally praising their accomplishments instead of “buying them a prize” for a job well done.

Oh and for the record, I don’t fault my mom… not even a little. It’s her prerogative to spoil her grandkids… it’s MY job to teach them all the difficult stuff. I mean she raised me and I didn’t turn out all that bad. But now that I work from home I much more input on the way situations are handled. For that I’m very grateful.

It’s all one big great life experience, full of learning and even laughter. My new favorite line “You don’t get a PRESENT for doing what you’re supposed to do in the first place.”

Positive attention by spending quality TIME with children works better and lasts longer than any toy. Having well adjusted grateful children with a self propelled work ethic is the goal.

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Mommy Santa

Mommyness 1 Response »

Dec 232011

Well I must say that Santa Mommy didn’t do too damn bad this year… considering that the past three years there’s been slim to NO presents from mommy to the mini ninjas under the tree.

Divorce can knock the proverbial economic snot out of a girl. Holidays have been difficult (even though my parents spoil the crap out of them) I was terribly disappointed that I couldn’t afford gifts for my own children.

Then, out of sheer necessity, I had to reframe pretty much everything.

What was important?

Basic needs were met. Bills were paid. We had a warm, cozy, loving home oozing with attention and affection. We laughed (a lot) and cried (a little) and reveled in being “us”; aware and mindful of the gifts we had right under our nose. We drew tons of pictures and made crafts and snuggled in for movies in front of the fire. Baked cookies and shared the most precious gift of all… time.

I’ll never forget those lessons from the “lean” years. Where my ego and shame, swathed in early recovery, tried to ruin a perfectly good holiday. Even though I get a twinge of bleck every now and again because I think I can’t give my girls everything they “should have”… most importantly, they have everything they NEED.

And so do I. We have each other.

I’ll be happy as a clam regardless of if I get a gift under the tree or not. I have every thing I could possibly wish for and YES… there will be mommy presents for my amazing mini ninjas this year. That’s all that matters to me. But I can tell you that I’ll be forever grateful for those difficult holidays, it taught me that the very best things in life… ARE free.

Perspective is a very good thing. It’s going to be an amazing Christmas.

And while we’re on the subject of presents… what gifts you people are to me. You enrich my life in ways I can’t even begin to express. Love you people. Mean it. ♥

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struggle

Mommyness 3 Responses »

Nov 282011

It’s been a hard few days at Ninja House. Sometimes it’s like that (especially after mini ninja visitation with charmingless) and there’s not much a Mommy Ninja can do besides listen and kiss the boo-boo’s away. So, per usual, I write about what I need to hear/read/see/work through… that’s just my process. No grand verbiage or epic funny lines or even sage words of wisdom tonight, just pure raw experience. It’ll have to do.

Tonight’s bedtime met with (almost vehement) opposition. My natural tendency is to duck and roll with a “you need your sleep I love you infinity times a googolplex. now close your eyes and dream of sugarplums and ninja presents from santa”. As I finished my kiss on sweet ninja cheeks, my oldest clutched me with a hand that says “I need you.” I sat down next to her and rubbed her hair as she cried big alligator tears on her pillow. Having to carry the brunt of emotions when away from home takes it’s toll on a small child.

She spilled it. The fear and frustration and anger and sadness reiterated in such an intelligent and clear way that I was (as usual) brimming with pride at her transparency; all the while tears also glistened on the pinks of my cheeks. She spoke quickly and clearly with great wisdom and as she did, you could see the weight floating off of her shoulders.

You see the MOST important thing we can do for others, especially our children, is simply listen. All the way. WITH eye contact and your whole heart. Everyone, including small children, already know their own answers. What we crave desperately is AFFIRMATION. Another person that loves us to say “I hear YOU, you’re okay, and you’re never alone while I’m around.”

She talked for fifteen minutes with barely a breath. And then she clung to me. As I told her (without words but a long long hug) that I heard her, that she IS okay it’s the situation that stinks, and that she’ll never ever be alone while I’m still breathing… she sat up and leaned into me for a while. Stroking her hair I reminded myself that maybe I can’t make things better for her right now… that I’m powerless over certain situations (for now)… but one thing is for certain.

There is beauty in the struggle. Silver-linings DO matter. And the knowing of less than pleasant circumstances helps us to fully appreciate the beauty that IS in our lives.

I said nine whole words in the 20 minute interchange.

“Let’s both choose to be happy tomorrow babygirl. I love you.”

She replied… “I’m always happy Mommy. It’s just sometimes the sad covers it up like a nasty turkey gravy” (I can thank Thanksgiving for THAT line)

Sure as shinola she fell asleep within seconds. You see, all we really need is to know we’re not alone in this crazy world. That someone loves us with all that they are no matter if they’re present or not so much. Lessons learned this night (besides the fact that my eight year old is smarter than I’ll ever be)?

Rough times build character and nothing can happen that love can’t heal.

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rollerskating.

Mommyness 1 Response »

Oct 082011

Do you remember the first time you roller skated? The arm flailing, falling, looking like a complete geeb struggling to catch balance only to end up falling in the most awkward position possible while the “CUTE” boy (girl) was standing right next to you? The big comb in the back pocket, Farrah Fawcett feathering, dancing to J. Guiles under the black light on a Friday night sorta moment?

No? Well if not then you’re too young to remember when skating was the shizznit then I pretty much hate you. Okay hate is a strong word. Want to educate you on the nuances of the early 80′s roller rink movement and despise your youthful glow? Better.

Anyway. I took my two oldest ninjas roller skating today. Big skate party for a friend, big deal, big excitement. So big that I was ordered (yes ordered) to wear matching knee socks with the ninjas so that we could “match”. Awww. Cute. So we roll up in our ride, short shorts, t-shirts, knee high white socks, and shades on… all about the cool. And yes. We WERE killah cool at that moment. Swag-a-licious. So we strolled with full hip swing, yes a girl needs to know how to walk, into the rink. All was well until we laced up.

And then the windmilling started. And the falling… over and over and over AND over again. The swag was replaced with blushing faces and uncertainty, frustration and wanting SO DAMN BAD to do something and just NOT getting it. The grim determination and hugging the walls and the trying and trying and trying and NOT wanting to give up because “dammit everyone is looking and I WILL get this.” Me holding hands and pulling ninjas around the rink until they pushed me away and tried it with friends. And the triumph when they stayed on their feet for even a moment.

With sore rumps and egos, we left the park directly after birthday cake. Oldest ninja quips “I wish I wouldn’t have fallen so much. I just couldn’t get it. I know everyone thinks I’m a dork.” The younger ninja looks at her somberly and says, “Lainey. Everyone else was too busy falling themselves to worry about you.”

I couldn’t help but see the “life lessons” in this. Hope you can too.

and yes this is an action shot… pre-falling. hence the blurr-ish-ness.

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Lessons learned from my four year old.

Mommyness 2 Responses »

Sep 272011

Youngest mini ninja. Named Jordan, or as we call her J.J. Cute as a button and as ornery as she is cute. In a major way. She’s suffered a bit more than the other two because she had no ‘mommy at home time’. I made my way back to the workplace when she was very small due to necessity. I have no small amount of guilt because of that. The older two had me at home until they began school… and even though I know it had to be done, I can’t help but think that makes a difference in their behavior.

My littlest, sweetest, most precious little girl (just like all other itty bitty short people) act out her emotions; don’t have the ability to say, “Mother dear, I’m having a difficult time going on visitation. I don’t like that you’re not home with me and I’m upset and angry and frustrated.” Umm. No. It’s more the acting out fists clenched cling to my neck and cry wake up at 6 in the morning and cling to my leg begging me not to go to work. “My don’t like being away from you Mama” she says.

Yeah. I tear up nearly every morning.

When my little JJ gets back from visitation it takes a good three days for her to stop “acting out”. Extreme frustration rears it’s ugly face. I hear little cues come out when the other two girls are “talking” about the weekend. JJ was called a “jerk” mom… that’s why she’s being so bad. JJ got yelled at all weekend Mom. And on and on and on. When I check on her in the night to kiss her sweet little face… she’s grinding her teeth. I think “for shitsakes she’s too young to have that much stress.” I hate those moments. By day three after returning home (and a hella lotta time outs and talks and mommy time and nurturing) she’s back to herself. Flipping into pretzel legged lotus position when she gets mad (behavioral intervention we instituted at Ninja House. works wonders. she even did it in the middle of Wal Mart one day. hilarious) talking out why she was frustrated and using her “ears” to listen is back in full swing.

Why did I name this post lessons I’ve learned? Well Immabout to tell you.

1. No matter how bad she feels she always pulls out of it.

2. She has unwavering trust in her core family (sisters and myself)

3. Every time she “fails” she picks herself up and tries harder… without judging the situation or beating herself up.

4. She learns to listen. It might take her awhile but she DOES IT.

5. She’s in a tough spot but does the work anyway.

6. She can give and receive love in a way I could only dream of doing.

7. She always comes back. When it would be easier for her to stay mad and frustrated… she allows her true self to come out again.

8. A cute smile can change the world.

9. A kiss and a hug can go a long long way to heal “boo boos”.

10. Strong and stubborn can be used for “good”. Her pretend superhero play says this is so. Her strong will helps her to deal with life’s vicissitudes.

There’s hundreds more but I won’t bore you. Bottom-line-ism? I learn from her because she’s one of the bravest people I know. They say it takes ten positive comments to challenge a negative one. I say it takes hugs and kisses and smiles and laughter and a dozen times a dozen positive words to challenge even one cruel word. Transversely, all that she has dealt with in her young life, if cultivated properly, will lend itself to one helluva strong, independent, confident woman. As a woman I know this is so and I’m ever so proud of her little stubborn self. As a mommy, I just want to take it all away.

Love you babygirl. Strong, stubborn, sassy… hmm I have NO idea where she gets it from. It’s all gonna be okay… somehow, some way. We’re learning lessons… together. <3

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monday nights

Emotional Intelligence, Mommyness, Relationships 3 Responses »

Sep 052011

I have three daughters, affectionately called Mini Ninjas. (You can read why here.) Long story very short… they leave me two times a month to see Prince Charmingless. (No need for explanations or you can read it HERE at my other blog http://iloverecovery.com) Anyway, for one reason or another, they come home distraught and exhausted and acting out. Being absolutely normal seeing as that’s how children deal with their emotions, I’m left to help sort out the malarky/dry the tears/hug the ‘boo-boos’/make it all better. We’ve done this dance for several years now and have gotten it down to a science.

Monday nights are hard.

Even as they are hard… they are also beautiful. You see I have the joy of watching my beautiful amazing daughters learn and grow, even and especially through turmoil. Learn to pick themselves up, show compassion for their siblings, navigate their emotional world, exhibit courage and strength and fortitude in the midst of all that chaos. We have quiet time on Monday nights. We sit with no devices turned on and talk about our day, our feelings, our experiences, and what we learned. It is a time of reflection and laughter and tears. A time to challenge what the mean world thinks with the truth of our inner selves. It’s “WE” time.

It’s the time I learn of all my six year old’s ‘boyfriend’ issues; namely which one she has chosen this week and why she’s dumped the last one (omg). The time that I find out about my oldest daughter’s fear of failure and rampant perfectionism (i have NO idea where she gets THAT from… ugh.). The exact times where I can hug my acting out four year old and tell her how amazing and beautiful and smart and funny and sweet and wonderful she is until she melts into a puddle and her fists and teeth stop clenching. I also tell them about my days (appropriately of course) of how I’m anxious about job interviews and writing and wanting to make the best life for us that I possibly can.

Reconnecting. Sharing. Showing love and gratitude for each other with listening ears and an open heart. When your seven year old child cups your face in her hands and says “You’re the best Mommy in the whole world and I’m so lucky to be your daughter.”… yeah. How can life be bad after THAT?

We don’t do that enough these days. We’re so worried about TASKS and doing it all RIGHT that we forget who we are and what truly makes us happy. Hustle-bustle-BS that ends in exhaustion and lack of fulfillment. Loved and valued for just BEING.

My ninjas love our “talk time” but what they don’t realize is that they give me more than I could ever begin to think about giving them. It’s as if life didn’t really begin until I became a mother. I can only hope to be as brave as my oldest, as affectionate as my middle daughter, and as strong as my youngest. They’re the best people I know… not that I’m biased or anything.

And so I sit (post “talk time”) and the weight of the world just CANNOT be heaped back upon my shoulders. Because I know whatever the outcome, they’ll be with me. In many ways my children have molded and created me with their time and attention. I want to be a better woman/mother/friend… because of them.

So in all the morass of drama and chaos and cool kid lists and who’s talking to whom and did-you-get-the-new-job-yet-ism… I kiss my sleeping daughters foreheads one last time (and slip a fiver under the pillow of my six year old… yes i’m the tooth fairy too and have the costume to prove it), slip into a comfy fluffy teal robe, light a candle and assume the position. And write. Because it’s who I am. It’s who my children have taught me to be… all the way me – all the time – no matter what. As I overheard Elaina (oldest) talking to her friend on the phone saying… “My Mommy is a writer. And a good one.” So she says it.. so it must be. She knows me all the way on the inside.

So I ask you… what’s important to you right now? And is it… really? Who knows you… all the way down deep? And have you taken the time to have a “talk” … just because? You might just be amazed at the outcome. All. You. All. The. Time. Connect. Feel. Live. Grow. BE. It will all work out just fine.

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