But I want that hand

Something happened to today.  

I left work a little early to go meet Lily's new teacher at the big drop off your school supplies and ice cream social extravaganza.  

As we got out of the car, I had Addie's hand, and I reached for Lily's and...

She. Pulled. Away.  

Dagger to my heart, I was a little stunned but I understood...and I kept walking.  

I know other kids don't want their mom to hold their hand.  I know I didn't as a third grader.  But this is my little girl and of course she will never be like that.  

Later it happened again walking to the playground.  I didn't want to hold her hand for safety.  It's just, what we do, when we walk together.  I reached more out of absent-mindedness than anything else, but she didn't want to.  I told her sorry, for trying a second time.  (No means no, mom!)  She just looked at me with the tight lipped stare-me-down look she gets when I'm embarrassing her.  I asked her if she would still let me kiss her goodbye, and she said yes.  I asked her if she ever wanted to hold my hand.  

She said yes.  

Just not at school. 

 

To see what I have missed

Today was a bittersweet day.  Our nanny had a death in the family and she needed to miss work today, so I got a surprise impromptu SAHM day.  For those of you out of the know in the so called "mommy wars", that stands for Stay at Home Mom.  


And I got to be one today, unexpectedly, and it was awesome.  Because it was not calendared as a day off with my kids, I didn't have any "plans".  No doctors or dentist or physical therapy appointments squeezed in, no grocery shopping or big chores to tackle.  Just step in and have the role of taking care of my children.  It's sad to admit how often I don't get to do that.  I spend a lot of time with them.  My working from home days, the weekends, vacation days, all the aforementioned appointments, I wake up with them, and go to sleep with them, I volunteer at school, and take them each on as many special outings as I can possibly squeeze in.  It's not exactly time that I'm missing, even though there is a fair amount of time I am at work.  It's something else.    


It was Lily's last day of first grade.  So first we took obligatory pictures.  Addie and Bryson even walked her to the bus with me since it was the last time this year.  Lily asked Addie to go, Bryson will always jump at the chance, but Addie usually rather hang back in the warm house with no shoes on and watch from the window.  To my surprise, she humored her sister and came along.  Addie has the best hair in the morning.  

Lily - last day of 1st grade - 4 baby teeth replace by bigs, a shoe size larger, and 3 inches taller

Lily's last day of first grade

Lily Addie Bryson (note to self- he'll sit if you don't put shoes on him when the ground is cold), Lily's last day of first grade.  

And for comparison's sake (because I must), here is the first day of First Grade: 

Lily first day of first grade 

Lily Addie Bryson - Lily first day of first grade

Lily's first day of first grade

The day today was just so great.  I finished my company's audit yesterday.  5 months of hard work was finished, my burden there was lifted.  So when Nanny asked for today off, it was a no brainer.    I was happy to have today with the kids.  Giddy actually.  It was the kind of day that, while I did check my work email on my phone to keep me off the computer, I didn't have to worry that there would be a pressing issue to address.  My boss is in Japan, my staff is competent.  I knew that there was not one thing that couldn't wait until tomorrow.  So I just got to be with kids.  I did go to the grocery store with them, at our leisure, I did get the dishes done and the house picked up, I did sit outside in the sun and watch them play for a few hours, I did pick Lily up from her last day of first grade, I did go through her school binder and decide what to save and what to toss, and I did turn the guest bedroom into a scrapbook room vs a homework room for the summer-together with Lily.  I did get to snap this picture with Lily and her teacher on their last day of school. 

Lily with Mrs M on the last day of First Grade - We LOVE you Mrs. M!!

There were so many parents there, you would have thought it was the first day of school.  We had to park blocks from the school.  I didn't have to worry about a stroller for Bryson, because we had all the time we needed, no rush, just walk at his pace all those blocks to the school.  Some moms had flowers, flowers, for their first graders last day of school.  Wow.  Flowers!  I was happy to just be there, but my hands were empty.  Or full, rather, of Addie and Bryson's hands.  I looked around at all the moms who were there, and I felt proud to be there, standing among them.  I couldn't help but look at all the moms who planned to be there, who knew they'd be there all week, who were not there due to a sad circumstance in their child care provider's life.  I was there, it shouldn't matter.  But it did a little.  It's just hard for me not to want that life.  


Today was a blessing, a wonderful amazing blessing.  Not because they didn't fight, and tattle, and make messes, and throw tantrums and get time outs.  Not because I never lost my patience repeatedly telling them to stay in or out of the hard to push car shaped shopping cart, not to climb in and out over and over and teach your little brother to do the same.  Not because I got a moment of time to myself.  Not because I didn't try to accomplish some organizing and other general cleaning, as they messed it up faster than I could beautify it.  Not because I'm not dead tired right now.  All of those things happened.  I don't pretend to think this life is easy or restful.  But I got to be there for it in a very relaxed, I have nothing else I need to be doing, this is my only job sort of way.  I never get that.  Not on vacation, not on the weekends.  This is not my only job.  It's hard to admit, because I'm afraid that mothers who read this and stay at home as their job, might pity me, or pity my kids, or think I'm less of a mother.  Maybe it's saying out loud that sometimes I think I'm less of a mother.    Especially today, when I see all the little things I miss.  While I'm living on the scraps of motherhood.


And the truth is, if they did, oh well.  I know I'm where I have to be right now.  I know that Lawrence and I have made the choice for our family that works.  We work together to make this work in a way that works for us.  We have an amazing young woman who fills in the gaps and takes care of our kids with incredible love and intention.  Maybe someday things will change, maybe they won't.  I pray that if it is God's will for me to have a different role in this family, that He will open doors for us to make that happen.  But as things stand right now, I am grateful, we are grateful.  Grateful for my late mornings and Lawrence's early ones, giving way to his early afternoons, which allows for home cooked meals and coaching opportunities and early bedtimes and lots of rest.  Grateful to have a daddy for my children that takes on his three blessings without wincing at how much work it will be.  Grateful for my work from home days that allow for even later mornings and volunteering in the class room during a lunch hour here and there and no commute time and putting kids down for naps and having lunch together.  


But a day like today leaves me aching for another full day with them, and another.  It's like I said, I get to see what I am missing.  And, even full of gratitude, when I'm completely honest with myself I do miss it.  I know staying at home with small children is not easy, but I hope that all the mamas who are living that life, enjoy the days that are given to them.  Because if I got to redo any day over and over again, it would be one like today.  


Today was a bittersweet day.  I can't believe some mothers get to wake up and be this kind of mother every day.  I hope they are able to see that amazing blessing for themselves.  Every day.  Even though I don't get to do today again tomorrow.  I did it well, today, and it gives me refocusing perspective that I needed after a season of hard.  I have a lifetime of good ahead of me.  

Mama

As long as I can remember, my mom and all her sisters called my Grandma "Mama".  And they called my Grandpa "Daddy".  They always talked about their parents with such respect and such love.  "Mama and Daddy".  Even when the "kids" were 50.  Even when they are 60.  They probably always will.  

Mama and Daddy

My kids call me Mama.  I love it.  It has this sweet, innocent, loving ring to it.  A ring that says I'm not too grown up to still say my first word.  Lots of kids I know Lily's age, and a few Addie's age call their moms Mom or Mommy, and that's to be expected, the kids are growing up.  


For now, I'm still Mama, and I hope I stay Mama for a very long time.  For years after I'm gone, even.  Just like my Grandma who has been gone nearly 10 years gets to still be Mama.  


I know a day will come when they don't love me as unconditionally and as fully as they do now.  But I also know, that after that season passes, they will come back to love me so fully again, with a grown up and knowing heart.  Just like I love my mom.  


I just hope that when that time comes and for all the times in between, they still call me Mama.  

You are only as happy as your unhappiest child

You know how it sucks when you look forward to something for months and months, then the night comes and it is really great but you do something stupid at the end that screws a little part of it up, but that small something ruins the whole night for you and you are so mad at yourself? Well that happened to my Lily tonight and I'm just laying awake hurting for her. Heart outside of my body...indeed.

**********

Last night was Lily's 1st grade program.  She has been talking about since January.  April 19, mom, make sure it is on the calendar, make sure you can get home from work on time, make sure my camera has batteries, make sure and get a video, when can we decide what I'm going to wear, can we practice my line, here is where I will be standing, here is how the risers are arranged.  She's talked about every single detail of how the night would go.  I even know where to find her in line, and how far in her own speaking part would be.  Her siblings have been singing the songs for weeks.  

She was a little disappointed that our nanny had a test in class that night and wouldn't be able to make it.  I invited my brother and his girlfriend, but didn't tell her they were coming (because I hadn't heard for sure that they were and I didn't want her to be disappointed if they couldn't make it).  

I left work at 4, got home around 5, and we went upstairs to do homework.  She was so giddy and excited that she couldn't concentrate on learning her spelling words.  I found myself being shorter with her than I wanted to be, but something that could have taken 15 minutes took 45, and the rest of the family was waiting downstairs for us to eat.  She didn't feel like learning spelling words, and I wanted her to have a better attitude about it rather than saying, I'll never learn that word with a sourpuss face.  She did learn the three she was having a hard time with: instead, said, and thought.  (Side note: I just spelled thought wrong the first go round of typing it. :)  )  Anyway, she finally finished and went in the bathroom for me to do her hair (which was in curlers) but I told her we needed to eat, and we'd have to do hair after.  

We ate, she dawdled.  I was annoyed.  When she was the last person finished at the table (typical), and was pittering around watching what Bryson and Addie were up to, I told her she needed to hurry, we needed to get upstairs to get dressed and do hair.  She obliged but we quickly realized that the dress and sweater we laid out (last night so it would be easy peasy no decision making tonight) was size 2T, it was Addie's - and her pink sweater was nowhere in sight.  We looked and looked and finally she said she could chose a different dress (the one laid out was super summery and it was raining and 50 degrees outside) because we really only had one sweater that could match.  After much back and forth, she finally chose the dress that she wore in our family pics, but she was mad. (Note to self: must get Lily more sweaters less hoodies, why oh why do I not have a white or black sweater for that girl?!)

Her hair didn't come out great, but at this point we were kind of rushed, and I was disappointed (with myself mostly) that the dress thing took so long, when I did everything I could to make sure THAT EXACT THING WOULDN'T HAPPEN.  Overdramatic? Maybe but I was certainly feeling like no matter what I do, how much I plan ahead, it is never enough to make life run smoothly.  Ha, life run smoothly...good one, Jenny.  

Anyway, I packed up a purse full of crap to keep Bryson busy during the program while the rest of the family honked at me from the car (I joke about the honking, but that's how frantic I was feeling while loading up the bag o tricks).  As I got in the car and thought about the teenage years.  Man, they are going to be hard.  I said so to Lawrence who obviously has no knowledge of the things teenage girls care about because he rolled his eyes and said I shouldn't rush us ahead.  I thought about how much harder it will be when it's not just a missing matching sweater, but it's my sister took my sweater, it's caring about fashion, what's in style, and worrying about body shape, and acne, and hair, and, and, and....deep breaths, not a great start, but okay, we are in the car now, let's enjoy the show.  I wasn't pleased with how I'd handled the last 2 hrs of the evening, let's make the next two better.  

Matt and Heather did come, and the kids were all thrilled to see them, jumping around all crazy, like they always do.  Then it was time to get Lily to her class room and the show started.  It was wonderful, and cute, and sweet.  Lily did a good job.  She got to say the line "when I grow up I want to be an acrobat".  Which she does.  I got it all on video.  So did Addie on her camera.  Bryson was enthralled and behaved beautifully on Lawrence's lap.  He clapped and loved it when he could point out his "Loly".  All was awesome. 

After the show the kids were all over Matt and Heather again, especially Lily, and there was some talk of them coming over for a bit.  It was already 8pm, and ultimately, I didn't think it was a great idea.  They haven't seen Heather forever, and seriously the kids go CRAZY around Matt.  He's like the catnip to their cat.  He says he doesn't, but sometimes I wonder how he can think my kids are anything but monsters, they act so different and more wild around him than anyone else.  They cannot contain their excitement to be in his presence.  I told M&H that it probably wasn't the best for getting everyone to bed if they came, so we decided they would come to Lily's baseball game on Saturday and we would get together after that.

Lawrence told Lily to say goodbye to Heather and Matt and thank them for coming.  But instead she was jumping all over them, pulling on Matt's coat, acting terribly obnoxious.  Lawrence asked her what she should say to her uncle for coming, and she said nothing, then stuck her tongue out at them.  Grrr.  Lawr told her to get in the car, and I apologized, and we left.  On the way home we talked to Lily about how rude that was.  Doesn't she want Matt and Heather to come to her things?  Why would she treat someone she loves like that?  Lawr said maybe they shouldn't come to her baseball game, or even worse, maybe they wouldn't want to.  Not if she was going to treat them like that.  We were disappointed, but we didn't yell or scream at her.  We just shook our heads and got about the business of who would do what when we got home to get them all to bed before 9pm.  

No one talked the whole ride home.  Buzz kill.

After getting Bryson and Addie to bed, I went to Lily's bed.  She was reading a note from our nanny that was cut in the shape of a heart.  It said something about how sad she was to have missed the show and how she couldn't wait to hear all about the wonderful night and she knew she did awesome and she loved her.  Really sweet.  Lily hugged that little piece of cardboard all night long like it was a soft teddy bear, obviously a source of comfort for her.  

Lily was so destroyed.  She was mad at her self for how she treated Matt and Heather.  I listened to her talk for quite a while.  I told her it is okay to make mistakes, and tomorrow is a new day.  That made it worse.  She said tomorrow is not the day of her program.  She wanted to rewind today!  I asked her if we could think of some good things from the night and remember those before we go to sleep, but she said she couldn't remember anything good.  All she could think of was acting like that to Matt.  She said she was feeling really excited, but she never meant to be rude to him.  She kept asking herself why she did that.  Why would she ruin her own night.  She told me she'd looked forward to this night for so long, and now it was over and it was awful.  She was weeping and sobbing.  I told her to just let it out.  

It was one of the few times that her tears over something small made me cry too.  I could feel and taste her pain.  I wondered if we shouldn't have said something to her in the car about the way she acted toward Matt, I was feeling pretty guilty.  Were we too hard on her?  Did we make her too hard on her self?  Parenting isn't easy, and the truth is you do not allow your child to be rude to someone else without calling them out on it.  That's part of the job.  Lawrence suggested that she could call Matt, and she did, and whatever he said to her made her feel quite a bit better. She mostly cried and he mostly talked.  And at the end of the call she was crying less and I could see she was getting to a point of peace about it.  It just wasn't the feeling of elation and pride that I would have wanted her to have at the end of a night that she has been looking forward to for so long.  

I knew exactly what she meant and how she felt.

We talked about how she could show the video to our nanny after school today, and she could show her all the songs, teach her sister the movements.  She liked that.  Then we talked about her friend, who's baby brother Ethan is in the hospital right now for a virus.  I said we needed to pray for him to get better and for his mommy to be okay.  She said we should pray right now, so we did.  Then we talked about how our problems aren't the worst ones to have, and how we will be okay.  When I left her room, I thanked her for asking that we pray for Ethan right now, I told her sometimes we say we will pray and we forget, it's always better to pray right now.  I told her that I am so glad she has the heart she does.  She makes me proud.      

I laid in bed and hurt for her, rewinding and fast forwarding to things i could have done differently to protect her from the pain and anger she was feeling.  

I thought about how I wished she could just get over a mistake, a split second decision to not act in a kind way.  I wished I could tell her to get out of her own head, and know that everyone else understood, and no one was mad.  Then I thought about how that is not a quality I model for her.  At all.  

Today, I winced thinking about a conversation I had with a friend who gave me some very good, very constructive, very hard to hear advice, four years ago.  Four years later, I took the advice, I'm grateful for the advice, but I still am mad at myself for needing the advice in the first place.  If I'm honest, I don't think I have forgiven myself for that.  And in the grand scheme of things, it is a little thing, really.  

My good friend's mom posted the quote, "you are only as happy as your unhappiest child" on my facebook today.  I read it a few times, letting it sink in.  Man, we are just getting started.  This is going to be hard.  I want to get better about forgiving myself, and letting their little stuff slide too.  

As a mother and a woman, I am so self critical of myself.  It is so much easier to see what I'm not doing than what I am.  A great day, with the best planning, and wonderful intentions, can send me into a panic when the sweater I laid out says 2t rather than 6 on the tag.  I let the small "mistakes" cast a shadow over the successes.  I beat myself up.  I don't want to, but I do.  I'm not sure if I have any tools to stop.  I sure see the goodness in everyone else.  I celebrate everyone else, I use kind words, I let things slide, I tell them they are doing a really good job.  I mean it.  

Is that the message I want to send on to my daughters?  You should focus on your imperfections, rather than your amazingly wonderful qualities?  The answer to that question obviously is of course not.  

But when I tear myself down, criticize my body or my clothes, talk of the state of my house or my cars in disgust, list all of the things left to do and never the things done, say harsh words about the mistakes I make, expect perfection...I'm teaching her to treat herself that way.  

And that needs to change.  

I can't protect her from everything, and maybe this small lesson needed to be learned so that she can remember how important it is to treat people, especially those you love, with respect and kindness.  I hope that is true.  

The part that has my heart really aching is that she can't forgive herself yet.  And I know how bad that feels.  And she doesn't deserve to feel like that.  

No one does.  

Coulda, shoulda, woulda.  Sigh.  Forget it.  Let's be kind to ourselves today and let's remember the impact that will have on our sweet children.  Then let's try to do it again tomorrow.  And the next day.  Until self kindness is a habit that we pass down to them.  

What is one thing you can do today that will remind you of what you have done right, that screams to you, YOU ARE ENOUGH! Today, how can you let go of something you have done wrong?  How can you model that for your children?    

My 2012 motto is Do Not Let Perfect Be the Enemy of Good.  I can say it all I want, but until I start acting like good is good, I'm teaching the wrong things through my actions and my words don't matter one bit.  

Trying to get the words and the page together

More than a million things are swirling around in my head.  I compose the most brilliant and thought provoking masterpieces in my head.  In the shower, or while driving, or while laying there not falling asleep.  About perspective and change, about our trip to New York, about undocumented birthday parties, about cancer and life and morbid thoughts, about parenting and working and surviving, about living and experiencing and thriving.  


And then.  

I come here, and I also don't know where to start.  My blog has become a short and sweet (thankfully) commentary on the skin cancer that I had.  I say (thankfully) because it was removed so quickly, it is won and done.  Mixed with that is a lot of pictures of our family on Mount Hood this winter.  And we are basically in the same outfits in each picture.  Cancer, beautiful white mountain silhouette against a blue sky, eye bandage, same green snowpants, same blue coat, same gushing of gratefulness.  


This winter, like no other, being on the mountain, made me feel the most alive.  There and quiet moments alone are the places I felt closest to God, and I felt clarity.  Clarity of priorities and emotions.  I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was living a good life.  I can feel it when I breath in the frigid air and feel the burn of the cold wind on my face.  When I smile at my loved ones and when I use my muscles and power to move my strong body along in the snow.  


I am filled, consumed with emotions, and it's just swirling there inside of me.  


Let me see if I can start to explain, and not delete my post for fear of judgement.  I need to get something out.  A good friend told me to just try and process one emotion at a time.  I want to start to unravel the knots my thoughts are in.  So here I go, one thought.  


I think that I've always thought deep inside that if I had to guess how I would die, it would be from cancer.  I mean, I know it's morbid, but if we are honest, most have a hunch one way or another.  Or a hunch might even be too strong of a word.  We aren't supposed to talk about it, unless we are trying to be weird or creepy.  Anyway, Lawrence told me long ago that he thinks the way he will go is in a car accident, he's always had that feeling.  My guess is that a lot of people, if ask, think cancer.  Why not?  All we hear about these days is this or that has links to cancer.  I sure remember thinking as I baked to a crisp while running on the logs and flumes of Wallowa Lake summer after summer that of course I would probably get skin cancer, not that I even knew why that was bad.  Not that I imagined the good kind of skin cancer was THIS bad.  Not that I knew anything.  Except that if I got a really bad sunburn, it would eventually fade into a sort of tan after a few painful days.  If everything causes cancer, why even try to fight it?  


Well...that's not entirely true, but you get my point.  I don't live that way now.  We do a lot of things to fight it.  We eat organic fruits and vegetables when we can, we have a toxin free house, use make-up, soap, cleaners, and laundry soap that don't have harmful cancer-causing chemicals.  I breastfed all of my kids until they were a year.  I don't use deodorant with aluminum in it.  I mean, I do things, lots of things.  Now I'm eating a Paleo diet, and feeling great on that hoping the supposedly cancer reducing effects are also true. 


Before my real cancer experience, I've worked myself into tears imaging myself as the title character in "Tuesdays with Morrie", I've written my own "Last Lecture" stories in my head, recorded imaginary videos even.  Most of my imaginings are consumed with the great impact, what I must leave behind, documentation and advice for those that love me, for those who aren't old enough for the wisdom and teaching I must give them.  I've thought about how I would be at peace with going to Heaven, but then am filled with anguish about the pain of those left behind.  Now I know I am an extremely thoughtful person, with a big imagination, but I can't possibly be the only person who thinks about these things.  Or maybe I am, no one ever shares these thought with me if they have them.  And I'm am closer, close-close, with more people than anyone I know.  People who would share it.  


So when I heard the word cancer, it was like a confirmation of my worst fears!  My worst fears, that really weren't supposed to be true, those were just crazy fears that I'd conjured up.  "A little bit of skin cancer" she said, and I couldn't imagine what that meant.  But there was a plan, and I needed a plan in order to let her off the phone.  Then I waited a few weeks and prayed and had more faith than I ever have before, and that's saying a lot because I have loads of faith in my heart.  I felt love like I've never felt before, and again, I have more love in my life than I know what to do with, so it is saying something when I can pinpoint the time in which I was most loved, and I just experienced that time.  Then I had the surgery and it is all fine.  Fine.  Soreness near my eye, fullness in my heart.  


And, you know, that's not what you think of when you think of cancer, when your worst fear plays out as a true story.  When you think of cancer, you think of long term battles and treatment plans, you think of life changing perspective and bald heads.  And the thing is, some life changing perspective did come, and I was brave, and I am forever changed.  


I asked one of my friends why no one was commenting on my blog these last two weeks, while I wrote about my recover, when I know so many are reading.  She said, what is there to say?  It's awkward when you don't know what to say.  I guess.  Except that since I'm a blog writer, when I read a blog and I don't know what to say, I say "hugs", "thinking of you", "yay!".  Say something because nothing feels like, well, nothing.  


And now it is all over, and I'm not going to die, and I never was going to die.  There wasn't even a shadow of a doubt that in the end I would be cancer free and go on living.  I went through a battle and I was scared and I was strong.  Yay me!  My support network surprised and amazed me.  Yay loved ones! While I physically can see a scar, and a misshapen eye that every day looks and feels better, emotionally I feel changed in more ways than I can say.  I guess that is because I let myself go there, even if for a few minutes.  To the land of what if.  To the land of I need to be here no matter what.  To the land of ohmygoodness, what if I wasn't?  And my cancer that used to be a fear "out there", one that I was just imagining in my head, just like I am nervous when my great driving husband goes on a drive without me, just like I don't want my family to fly separately.  But now, it's in here.  In. My. Body.  It was in my body for 5 years and I didn't even know it.  and I looked at it in the mirror every day.  It reminds me of May 1994 when my fear of the dark changed from boogie man fear to real bad-things-happen-in-the-dark fear.  


What other cells could be malforming in my body?  I want to get my cervix checked and my breasts too.  I want to go BACK to the dermatologist, just to be sure there is nothing else.  I want to go right now, not in another year.  I want the same for everyone I know, get checked, all places.  I want some sort of guarantee that what I just went through is as bad as it's gonna get.  That was my life long bout with cancer, and man was I lucky.  But that's not the way it works.  And to be clear, I'm not living in fear, but with new prospective.  Easy to beat cancer or not, I am a cancer survivor, and a very blessed woman.  Those two things I know to be true right now.  


What then?  


How do I integrate back into the mundane chores and responsibilities of every day life?  I mean, every day life, do you know that I just beat cancer? How do I do it during the months of April and May, when I would typically live at the office, releasing my poor mommy-time-wanting-kids to the care of our nanny and my husband and their teachers?  I usually dig deep and just do what is needed of me, but work isn't the only or most important thing to succeed at, not in my new perspective.  In fact, I  want to go there do my best job, and be home for dinner most nights.  Every night.  I certainly wasn't able to do that last year, and I'm trying to figure out if that is even a choice I have, one I can make.  Am I pretending I don't have control over that, or do I really not have control over that.  I need to find a way to have control over that, to find out if that can be my choice.  I think it is, I think it can be.  A two inch scar on my eye tells me that I get to make every second count.  Every second of my only eight hours at work, and then every second of my nights and weekends at home.  


The thinker and planner and doer in me knows there has to be a way to make that possible.  To be more disciplined, to make a plan.  But how?  I can't think of a way to make it possible, but I know deep down that I must.  I must.  This cancer didn't threaten to take my life away like it could have, and it might have just reminded me to take it back.  I can't be the stay at home mom and wife I often dream of being.  But all or nothing isn't the goal here, finding a way to make the most of every second in a wise and present way...that's what I will set out to accomplish.  The tugging in my heart tells me to resolve to make some changes to celebrate living.  To celebrate the blessings I was given.  By God.  To me.  Whoa.  


This week I resolve to: 
-Look in the eyes of the person who is speaking to me and listen, especially my kids
-Spend more time holding my children, and less time directing them
-Say, "in a minute honey" 50x less per week
-Acknowledge the small stuff as small stuff and move past it
-Delegate the work
-Less time outs, more looking to the root of the matter
-Pray often, lift up the little stuff, the details, God's not just there for the catastrophes, draw close in the moments and listen
-Think about this moment at this moment
-Give less value to what others think or feel, give more value to what I think and feel, what Lawrence thinks, Lily thinks, Addie thinks, and Bryson thinks, and to what they each feel
-It's okay for others to disagree with me, it's okay for others to roll their eyes at me, they aren't where I am at.  That will not break me, nor should it change my feelings about myself.  Consider carefully at these moments who I am living for.  I am not living so that I won't ever disappoint others, so stop acting like I am  
-Eat dinner with my family every night M-F
-Look at the beautiful reflection staring back in the mirror, not the swollen eyelid, not the red scar that cannot yet tolerate make-up, not the wrinkles, but instead the truth, the youthful face of a big hearted, blessed, and healthy woman
-Memorize one verse which will uplift me when I forget Who's got this
-Sleep 8 hours a night.  Every night.  
-Count.My.Blessings: 

 -Laugh, laugh, laugh

Is that a lofty list?  Maybe, but my full heart is just getting started.

The scraps of motherhood

Hold on friends, this is a long journey deep into my heart.  Maybe it will touch you, maybe it will not.  But I feel some peace writing it down, and I even documented a few of my precious moments, so I can get to crossing that off the list.  

Every mother wishes there were more of herself to go around, and every working mother, has, at one time or another wondered how come she only get the worst part of the day with their children, the scraps.  The scraps of motherhood.  


Before I get into this, I should start be saying we have a fabulous nanny.  She adores our kids and our kids can't get enough of her.  And I love her too.  She is sweet and smart and fun.  She acts like a kid but is responsible and careful.  She works really hard, and is conscientious to make sure we think she is doing a good job.  She is a good communicator, and it is so easy if I ever ask her to do something differently, she isn't defensive or argumentative.  She is exactly the way you would want your nanny to be.  What I'm about to say about the way I feel about my scraps says nothing about her, and to some extent I've felt this way since that first day in January of 2005 when I returned to work after maternity leave after having Lily.  I've been through daycare centers, preschools, nannies, au pairs...it isn't about the care.  When the care is wonderful, the kids like it, and I do want that, and more importantly I have it.    Just so we are clear.  


Bryson told me he liked our nanny better than he likes me yesterday.


And while it stings, this should not come as a huge shock to me.  I get him up from his bed in the morning, give him his milk with little cuddle time, while I race Lily around feeding & grooming her, to get her out the door for the bus by early:29am.  Then I come back in to do the same for Addie.  I race upstairs when the nanny arrives to throw myself together, to get out the door to take Addie to preschool 30 minutes after the bus just came for her sister.  Sometimes, between directing him not to grab, touch, or break things, I get Bryson a second cup of milk, some breakfast if he is ready, then give him a few hugs and kisses on the way out of the door.  If he lets me. Sometimes, I have to push him back in the door because he wants to come.  Sometimes he cries, and sometimes he says "I need you not doe bah-bye", but more often, he walks away, unaffected.  Rarely do I read him the book that he has been carrying around all morning pulling on my leg while I braid hair, asking me "Weed dis book, weed dis book, tom on mama!"  - Our nanny will do it, honey.  That's the fun stuff, and I haven't time for the fun stuff.  


These days, I [hopefully] get home in time to say hello, change him into a night time diaper and then put him to bed.  Sometimes there is a little time before that to break up a fight between he and Addie, bark at him to stop throwing food from his highchair once he is done eating, or feel frustrated when he puts his toothbrush exploratorily down the gross drain or side sink hole, resulting in wet sleeves and him wrestling me to the death to put on a dry pajama shirt.  Lawrence wonders why it takes me a half an hour or more to go through the bedtime routine with him, when it takes him less than 5 minutes to put him quietly to bed.  It's because after I get him into his sleep sack, with his monk-monk under his chin, we rock & I sing to him as he savors every drop of milk in his cup.  Then, like a wonderful heavy exhale, he turns into me, belly to belly and gets his head comfy on my shoulder, and we sing and we rock.  And I collapse in that moment.  Sometimes I start to sing, and stops me, he chooses a new song.  Sometimes he says "Let me sing it", and I do, and I hold his hand and rub his soft baby fat fingers, and I listen, hanging on the way he sings every word.  I'm in awe of his ability to sing the song, and I could listen to it for much longer than the half an hour it takes me to put him down.  The moment we finish one song, he says, "what we sing now?" almost as if he thinks that if a moment of silence passes, our time together for the day will be over.  I always sing last as I am laying him down, "I love you Bry-y-son, oh yes I do (he chimes in "I do!"), I love you Bry-y-son, and will be true (he again says "I do"), when your not near me, I'm blue (he sings that line with me), I love you Bryson, I love you.  Then we sing I love you mama, same song.  Then I sing Bryson again as I leave the room.  Lately he has been stalling and fighting that song.  In my guilt-ridden mind, I know it's because he knows it's the end.  That's it for today buddy, same deal tomorrow, okay?  


Then I head into the girls room.  It's between 7:30-8pm, and so far the time I've spent with them today, is what I've described above.  On a good day, they get up and get themselves dressed in the laid-out-clothes from the night before, they eat, I make coffee or go get babbling Bryson.  Then I gently bark orders about eating a bit faster, and getting shoes on, teeth brushed, hair fixed, coat on, backpack packed.  I try to have a meaningful conversation with Lily while waiting for the bus, especially when I don't have to bring the younger two out with me, because our nanny has arrived.  It has been cold and raining so we huddle together under the umbrella and talk about the day ahead.  The devastation and failure I feel when I realize I've forgotten her library book on library day, or to put her in gym shoes on gym day (yesterday=gym in snow boots), a hat on a cold day, or left her packed lunch on the counter, is highly over-exaggerated and dramatic.  In my mind, I know this, but in my heart it feels like putting a hat on my kid's head on a subzero day is the least I could do, and it is directly correlated to my poor planning or bad mothering skills.  My mind knows that is not true.  My heart does not.  


Also, on a good day, I take Addie to school, and we get that time to talk.  It's 15 minutes I treasure with her.  So when I haven't gone over the logistics with Lawrence to make sure there are enough car seats for me to take her and Nanny to pick her up, Nanny has to take her and pick her up, and I lose that time.  And it again feels like a failure.  But at least I don't have to rush to be out the door, and I can spend a few extra minutes in the shower, but more often than not, I feel too guilty to enjoy it.  


After I have put Bryson down in the evening, Lawrence is usually already done with the girls.  During that time, they have brushed their teeth and gone potty, and are waiting with the small lamp on for me to come.  Sometimes they are both on Lily's top bunk with her reading lamp on and Lily reads to her little sister while they wait.  I "rock-a-bye" and "rock-a-hmm hmm" them individually, and I pray with them individually.  I try to make sure that during my "Thank you God for this day" prayer, I am not going through the generic schpeel of being thankful, I want them to truly feel cherished, I want them to feel my thankfulness about being their mother.  I intentionally think of one thing that is specific to them that I am thankful for.  I do not want them to think that this is a going through the motions type of deal.  This is a time to hold on tight to our bear bears because we are glad God gave us a bear bear to love so much and give us comfort, and to be thankful that Lily has an empathetic heart, and that she figured out how to talk through a problem with a friend today.  Lily always wants me to make sure to pray that she has no bad thoughts or dreams when she sleeps, and I do.  I also usually pray that she can feel my love and God's love wrapped around her while she sleeps.  That the One who created her and the one who gave birth to her think she is perfect, just as she is.  No matter how many times outs or scoldings about hurrying up there were today.  Because it is true.  


The 2 days a week that I work from home, those are the days that save me.  On those days I usually start at 9-9:30 and am done at 5.  On occasion I eat lunch with the kiddos and hear about their day so far.  I put Addie down for her naps, when she still takes them.  I get to be involved in dinner making, or at the very least eating it with the family.  I get to sit with Bryson and read a book or 7 in the morning, even if I end up putting a hat on my unwashed hair and taking Addie to school in my unwashed jeans with my jammie shirt hiding under my zipped up coat.   I can take an hour or two a month and help out in Lily's classroom, or go to doctor appointments.  Despite my very stressful job, after 10 years, I do have flexibility to take care of my family's needs when there is an illness or a big event.  More than most I'd say.  But the daily grind.  It can wear me out.  And more, it can wear me down.  Last week I missed one day of working from home due to an interview in the office, and the week before I continued to work upstairs during movie night because of a essential last minute deadline I was required to meet.  That one night and that one day threw off my whole balance last week.  Add in the fact that after missing bedtime entirely 2 nights that week, I drove from downtown to Hillsboro to make it on time for Addie's Karate because I hadn't seen one lesson yet, but I got there as Lawrence was strolling all three of them out of the building, and my heart swelled with pain and failure.  In that moment, I made a decision.  I could have drove home angry at myself and my bad eyes for getting lost on the way there, not correctly reading street signs in the dark.  Instead I decided to be glad that I'd come, let Lawr have a peaceful drive home while we traded cars, and I cheerfully chatted for 40 minutes with my kids about their day.  Until I had to yell at Bryson not to tear up the book he was holding.  :)  


When we just had Lily, I thought I had the scraps.  But it was just her, and there were two of us.  And every moment of scrap time was spent making her feel loved, in an environment she thrived in, so there was less no, and more yes.  Even when mild tempered Addie came along.  There were two, and it was often divide and conquer scrap time, but Addie didn't get into things and destroy things the way Bryson does, so I felt like I could manage that scrap time and it was mostly pleasant with a dash of drill sergeant.  


These days, with the addition of my Bryson-monster - who has truly entered the terrible twos, if I'm not careful I can quickly turn mostly drill sergeant, with a dash of pleasant.  If I'm lucky.  And that's not good because my mind says you are doing your best, you are doing good enough, even.  But you know that's not what my heart says.  It says I'm not enough.  Not good enough.  And those are the times that I can reach out and tangibly feel God's voice in my ear.  You. Are. Enough.  Just. As. You. Are.  Right. Now.  


And I'm reminded that I don't have to clean up my act and be "better" before God will love me, he just does.  As I am.  With my imperfections.  And sin.  And failures, both self-perceived, and culturally-perceived.  He loves me now, and He certainly knows me now.  After all, He created me to be this mess.  A beautiful big mess with a purpose and a voice.  Right now.  This is it.  It's scraps.  But if I wasn't living on scraps now, would I ever be able to fully appreciate more someday?  I don't know.  I do know that there is a lesson to be learned through every story.  And it takes patience to get there.  Perspective helps too.  Will there be a day that I would give anything for this normal?  For this daily grind? Maybe.


So I spend my weekends fitting in QT with my family, going to birthday parties, and occasionally letting that my friends know that I have not fallen off the face of the earth.  We are making fun memories, while also trying to make sure we have food in the house and clean underwear to put on for the week ahead.  I have calendars and to do lists as far as the eye can see.  There are big plans for an organized future and year ahead, no forgotten library books or lunches or hats in 2012, no sir.  Not to mention 8 hrs of sleep.  The house usually gets bare minimum treatment, plus a little love from our cleaning lady every few weeks.  Those toilets aren't going to clean themselves and God knows I'll never find time.  


So what's a girl to do?  If you know me, you know I can't end any blog being all, woe is me.  You also know that I'm not looking for pity.  Being a mom is hard, 1 kid, 2 kids, 3 kids, 4 kids, 5 kids, whether you work or stay at home with your children, it's hard.  So this isn't a discussion of what I should do.  Everyone looks at everyone and says, 'oh I could never do that'.  But we all could do that, if that's what we had to do.  We all do do that, that which someone else says they could not.


So, I just keep going, and keep appreciating, and keep loving.  Keep eating those scraps like they are the best meal I've ever had. Because they are the only meal that I have.  And on a day, like my birthday, when I took the day off work, to just be with them, to just play with them, no obligations, no appointment, no work...well, then, I enjoy it and savor it, and know that this is how it should be.  This is the good stuff.  And this good stuff is mine.  And for now that's enough.    

"Gratitude turns what we have into enough"

Well, I am grateful, that's for sure.  

And sometimes I do get a chance to sit down and read the book.  

I threw a fit

Yesterday, I got Addie down for her nap and I ran downstairs to tell Lawrence I was headed to the store to do some MUCH needed grocery shopping. I would have rather played quietly with Bryson, or taken a nap myself, but diapers weren't buying themselves and Bryson's baby food cupboard was bone dry. Lily sort of stomped a bit that she couldn't go with me, but Lawrence reminded her that she needed to go to quiet time, because we let her stay up super late the night before visiting with her friend who was staying with us and going to Rachel's birthday party. She didn't listen to him and continued to sulk and pout. It was noon and I'd been up since 5am with Bryson after going to bed too late, at midnight the night before.

As I was trying to explain to Lily that it wasn't up for discussion, (though I continued to heartily discuss it with her!) I just needed to run and get a few things, and I'd be back by the time her quiet time was over and then we could make the flash cards from school; she continued to make a huffy face. Just then, Bryson got his arm caught in the top of one of the girls' stools and started to scream hysterically. As I went to rescue his pudgy little bicep from the weight of the lid plus his other fatty hand pressing down on top of it, Lily would not take no for an answer. I hugged Bryson, and I yelled at her, "Lily, get up to quiet time, NOW!" in a mean nasty mama bear voice. She scampered away in tears, yelling, "I want to bring my flash cards!". "NO!" I shouted.

Bryson calmed down and I looked up at Lawrence who had eyebrows raised. I could tell by the look on his face that I'd overreacted a little. I knew I had, and I didn't appreciate the judgment. I said, "Do you think I handled that too harshly?". He shrugged and said, "All I know is that we were down here having fun...", "...until I CAME ALONG!', I snipped. I reminded him about how the day before I wanted to run Lily over to the birthday party and Addie was practically dragging behind me on my leg - even though she had a friend here with plans and fun of her own. She couldn't go with to the party drop off because she has a runny nose and they have a new baby. I went on to Lawrence's raised eyebrow and wide eyes, about how earlier, Addie was crying and banging outside the bathroom. "I can't even go to the bathroom without disappointing someone in this house" I shrieked dramatically. I was so frustrated, explaining that while I would prefer not to leave the house to do errands or go to work, I literally have to kick someone off my leg and back in to the house as I close the door behind me.

"Do you know how that makes me feel? Every single day?" I demanded in my best woe is me quiver. He said that I was right, in a tone that told me he didn't think so.

Still holding Bryson, I attempt to do a donkey kick behind myself to illistrate for Lawrence yesterday's getting out the door debacle, but I trip a little. This doesn't stop me, once I get my grips again, I kick back in a reattempt and hit the toybox HARD with my heel. I lose my balance again while pantomiming a door slam, and sort of spin around falling on to the couch on my back with Bryson on my chest. "JEEZ! Take it easy!" Lawrence exclaims. I stop (easy to do when you are flat on your back on the couch). Horrified. Humiliated. Then I start laughing hysterically. Partially because I've been ranting and donkey kicking and I'm embarrassed by my behavior. Partially because I think it's pretty freaking funny how worked up I've got, all because Lily wanted to go to the store with me. I laugh at how ridiculous I sounded, and the hysteria in my voice as I ranted to my husband's wrinkled forehead and slight smirk. Then I start to cry. I'm not ever sure why exactly, but I think more than a little bit because my heel hurt so bad and more than a little bit because I feel so bad for how I yelled at Lily, and more than a little because I'm so glad Bryson is safe with my failed kicking falling fiasco.

I take my time out and then I say sorry to Lily, bringing her flash card materials to quiet time. And then I head to the grocery store, totally and completely emotionally depleted.

It reminded me how easily I come to expect my little ones to keep their composure when they are over tired and frustrated with things and how easily I can lose my own. Sometimes to be a better parent you have to get a little closer to where your kiddos stand and imagine what it feels like to be them for a moment, how it feels to feel disappointed or over controlled about something.

And sometimes, you just need to throw a fit.

I did.

7 blogs in 7 days. Day 2 - Sleeping Beauties

What? Jenny! Hasn't posted much about sleep recently. What. is. up. with. that?

If you know me well, you know that I'm a freak about my kids and their sleeping schedules. I didn't used to be. When we had Lily, I was all go with the flow. Babies don't sleep. SHE will fit into OUR lifestyle, and not vice versa. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Except that baby Lily didn't go along with that. And so at 3 months we started trying to make routines and stick with them. We did the no cry sleep solution, we cried it out (and then promptly switched from the pediatrician who recommended it at 4 mths old), we tried to co-sleep, we breastfed, we bottle fed. (Ha! WE breastfed, good one). At 11 months old she was allowed into a sleep specialist at OHSU, the youngest patient ever because we had been doing EVERYTHING right for 7 months, every single night, revolving our life around it, and she would not sleep. I took a week off work and dedicated every moment during a 24 hour period to get her to sleep and by the end of 10 days, I'd turned her 20 minute naps, 3x a day to one hour each. It was progress. At that point in my life, she was a year, and I could not imagine what moms who had kids who napped for 2-3 hours, 2-3 TIMES a day did with themselves. I was literally parenting 24 hours a day. For almost a year, with a 20 minute on the dot potty break, and 2 hour stints at night. They told us at the pediatrician and the sleep clinic that a nap less than one hour doesn't even count as a nap. Huh, I told them that it meant our 10 month old had only had 2 naps since she was 6 weeks old. By the end of our time, the doctor was asking me if I could send him some of my sleep log forms that I'd created. He was asking for my advice on another patient. That was when I bid him, and his helpful staff, Sayonara. You know, since I wasn't getting paid to treat his other patients, and since we'd reached the end of his knowledge base on my daughter, his youngest ever patient who was apparently a sleep deprived enigma. I thought that maybe Lawrence and I needed marriage counseling. As it turned out, we just needed some SLEEP. And a break. And when she did start sleeping through the night, and napping for more time than just a dishwasher unloading and loading, we got our life back. And it was good.

But still, we were scarred.

So that's the back story in a nutshell. The good news is, I've read every book on sleep. I consider myself a bit of an expert on the topic. I'm not quick to judge or to accept judgment from others on the topic of sleep. I know they haven't been where I've been. I think it might have been different for us if we just didn't care, and we didn't know better, and we'd fumbled through all that time. But our pediatrician telling us how sick our baby could get if she didn't get some sleep scared us in to TRYING for so long without any results. I now know the time and place for crying it out, I listen to my babies cues, I know about "the magic window" for a perfectly executed nap. I can talk another sleep deprived mom off a ledge and offer her support, encouragement, and the-all-important-when-you-are-at-that-point-of-despair, a plan. Any plan. And I have many, many times. I've been a better mother and a better friend for having gone through all that. And I'm so thankful to my second baby, Addie, who helped me gain my confidence as a mother back, when she slept though the night starting at 7 weeks old. And when she napped well the whole time. It's not that she never woke up at night going forward, she did, lots of times here and there for her first year. But compared to Lily, it felt so easy. Getting up only once or twice a night. Once or twice a week.

Other than Bryson's colic his first weeks, he has been an easy joy, and has been sleeping through the night since 10 weeks old. I could count the wake ups on one hand and most of those are nights when we were camping or away from home. But this post isn't about him. Or that. It was actually going to be about how beautiful babies look when they sleep. But like I said, I'm scarred and I like to hash out the sleep woes and the bedtime battles as often as I can. Maybe I should write a book on sleep. Not that anyone would buy it because in the end I would say, yeah, with my first kid I did everything right and it never worked, but then I sort of figured it out for the next two. Good luck, all kids are different. I don't think it would make many sleep deprived mams feel better to read an entire book only to know that someone else has been there. :)

So needless to say, sleep is a pretty big thing in the Herman household, as it is in any household that has done without it for a straight 2 years, I'd guess. And without it, I guess I mean less than 5 hrs per night.

I only have a few pictures of Lily sleeping as a baby, and most of them are in her car seat (where she also took 20 minute naps - on the button). She would wake up at night if you went in to check on her, so I started to just hold my breath and go to bed without peeking in, knowing that she would be up shortly anyway.

But now. Lily is my best sleeper. Addie is my worst sleeper. And for the most part, my OPINION is that Room Sharing Sucks!

However, it is getting a little better. Addie still keeps Lily up a lot at night, and I hear her yelling, "WAKE UP LILY" at 6am, and sometimes she sneaks out quietly. But mostly, it's a hour an hour to an hour of messing around in there, laughing or arguing, and then quiet.

This summer, was really cute. More than a few times I went in and found Addie's bed empty, only to find her sleeping with Lily or next to Lily. And I was reminded that this is what sisterhood and room sharing really is all about. I found a new thing, and I called it, room sharing goodness. Something I didn't know about before the summer.

Addie would love to sleep on Lily's bed every night if she could, but what with Lily's stuffed animal obsession, there just is not room, so many nights when I find Addie's bed empty, she is here:
Sometimes, they even move over her clock and "night stand" in order to make her feel more at home. This completely cracks us up!
I enter into a dark room to kiss Addie good night, but this is what I find...
Oh, here she is
This night she left bear-bear behind. I don't know how on earth that happened. Please note the little sign hung up next to her bed. It is a 7am/7pm stick figure drawing that Lawrence did to show Addie when she goes to bed and when she wakes up. It is working beautifully. God bless Daddy! :)


My sleeping beauties. See sometimes room sharing doesn't suck. And all that hard work was worth it. All the hard work is ALWAYS worth it. I could kiss those lips and those cheeks ALL. DAY. LONG.
I imagine that sometimes Addie is trying to come out of bed, but Lily shuts her down. Makes her stay in her own bed. Out of pure exhaustion, Addie falls to sleep here.
I'll rest here for a minute and make my escape later...after a few winks of shut eye.
And once in a while. Sister lets her in. But not at the top of the bed, that's where the "guys" go.
Addie doesn't mind sleeping at the bottom half of Lily's bed. She's just glad to be there at all.
And you just can't help taking one million pictures of this.
And wishing you had a sister of your own...