The Day I Let Him Have a Go

Happy Halloween!  The boys are pirates this year so I transformed our Radio Flyer into a pirate ship with the help of some brown packing paper, tape, temper paint, a broom, a toddler sheet, pvc piping, and a little 2-year old boy.

No.2, half naked due to a pull-up mishap, wanted so much to help paint the faux wood on the packing paper.  He grabbed the paintbrush, opened a little jar of paint, swished it around inside and put the brush to the paper.  I realized that while I was focusing on what I was painting, he had been watching me and learning.

I never taught No.2 how to open paint, I always just put it on the paint pallet and give him the brush.  I never taught him how to paint with sweeping movement, I was fine with his sloppy squiggles and crushed paintbrush bristles.  Today, he learned how to do those things by watching, so I let him have a try at painting some water on the edge of the boat.

I wonder how much my children have learned from just observing me.  Have they learned to speak kind words or gossip about others.  Have they learned how to cheerfully do what is required of me or grumpily put dishes away.  Have they learned how to help others or tactfully come up with excuses.  Unfortunately, I know they have not learned every wonderful thing from me, but I hope they've picked up a few.

So, here's to taking notice.

Here's to teaching better.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Turned 35

If I were pregnant, which I'm not, but would like to be, I'd be considered "Advanced Maternal Age".  35 isn't old, is it?  Although I do have several greys and my joints are not as spry as they once were (although I can still get both feet pretty close to behind my head), I don't particularly feel old.

I have watched programs on Discovery channels about aged parents.  60-year old women having twins and the like.  Now, that's Advanced Maternal Age!

I guess I don't feel my age because I think that people who are in their mid-30's should have more than just 2 kids or their kids should be in middle school.  Because of this misconception, I oftentimes find myself relating to two completely separate decades of people:  I am friends with 20-somethings because we can talk about our children, and I'm friends with 30/40-somethings because we can relate as individuals.  That's not to say these relationships don't sometimes cross, they most certainly do, I just don't know which group I truly fit in with.

I know it's silly thinking I need to fit in with one or the other.  I know I don't.  But I sometimes feel like the go-between.  I feel like a Jack of all trades, master of none.  I'm sure there are reasons for that, some a psychiatrist wouldn't even be able to draw out of me (detour - I am a pretty normal, non-traumatized person), but if I truly think deeply about it, I guess I like it this way;  I get the best of two worlds.

So, here's to getting two for the price of one.

Here's to another year.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Woke Up Early

It's never easy having house guests - for either party.  As a hostess, you feel the need to always put a smile one so the guest doesn't feel like they're imposing.  As a guest, you never feel completely "at home."  So, having filled both roles during different times in my life, I get it.  It's not easy.

My current guests are not bad tenants.  However, they do get up really early (before 7 is really early for me - I mean look at the time-stamp on most of these posts; early to bed and early to rise-pshaw!).  Today they were up by 6:30 or before using the bathroom, stomping (I don't think on purpose, they're just extremely heavy walkers) up and down the stairs, getting breakfast.  And since my room is right by the stairs, bathroom, and kitchen, it seemed pretty much impossible to fall back asleep.

I slid out of bed and started my day.  I wasn't happy about it (I've become more and more of a non-morning person as I've grown-up), but I did it anyway, and I had a strange experience:  I actually enjoyed it!

Have you ever dreaded going to a get together or meeting but ended up having a really nice time when you finally got there?  That happens to me all the time.  The problem is the "getting there", not the "being there".  So, is it a wonder that I dreaded leaving my bed this morning, but actually was glad I did?

I was able to actually make my bed, wipe off all the counters, wash the dishes, dress No.2, and stress-free-aly get to school.  It was a miracle.

Now, I'm not saying I want to make this a habit, just like I don't make get togethers or meetings habitual, but I'm glad that I was able to get up early today.  Sure, I was tired, but I still functioned and was able to spend time with, not just by, No.1 and No.2.  They talked, I actually listened.  It was like a cereal commercial - really.

So, here's to a few good early mornings.

Here's to the nice inconvenience of guests.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Gave It a Second Chance

Burger King is my absolute least favorite restaurant.  When my husband and I were in college, they changed their fries...for the worse.  I already was not too keen on their over condiment-ed burgers, but this switch did me in.

Well, today, my husband wanted to meet at BK for lunch.  "Yuck!"  I told him, but went anyway.  In the past, since the fry debacle, I have avoided their sandwiches and fries, but today they were advertising their newer fries - crinkle fries.  I was slightly intrigued.  More hungry than intrigued.  But intrigued nonetheless.  I also saw a burger I wouldn't mind trying - the Angry Whopper.

I was a bit apprehensive, but took my first bite of fry.  Huh?  Not too bad.  Not great, but not bad.  They taste just like the Ore-Ida crinkle fries I can make in my oven.  At least they weren't the disgusting instant-potato fries from before.  Then came the burger.  I enjoy a good spicy meal every now and then and this sandwich hit the spot.  And the condiments were pretty normal - except for the mayo, they seem to love mayo.

All-in-all, I'm glad I gave Burger King another try.  It's still not my favorite, but at least it's no longer my least favorite - that award goes to Denny's (no sit-down restaurant should ever serve instant potatoes).

Sometimes my boys (even my husband) do things that I remember and hold a grudge to.  Not a terrible grudge, but things like Husband doesn't fold shirts square, or No.1 sprayed too much cleanser, or No.2 had an accident, so I tend to fold the laundry, clean the bathrooms, and put No.2 in Pull-ups.  I don't give second chances very well.  I'd rather do it myself.  But I need to allow second, third, fourth, sixty-seventh chances.  It allows growth.  It allows discovery.  And who knows, maybe that once dreaded task will become my new favorite one at which to watch someone else succeed.

So, here's to second tries.

Here's to no more grudges.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Said Whatever

Somethings you have no control over.  That's hard for me to understand and deal with.  I like to be in control, or at least know what's going on and hand control over to someone else.  I don't like the unknown.  I don't like wishy-washy.  I like things firm and concrete.

Today my sister-in-law and her 4 kids came to live with us for the week.  Her husband got a job here in September and she was just able to get one here, too.  So, I cleaned up the house, bought special groceries, laid out expectations for my kids and hers, and put everything else to rest.

Things did not go as planned for their arrival.  That frustrates me.  But, whatever.  My mother- and father-in-law went out to their old house and picked up the kids.  That frustrates me.  But, whatever.  We don't want the kids using our air mattresses because, although we love them, we have observed that they are not the best with other people's property.  And that frustrates me.  But, whatever.  When my sil did come, she came upstairs to talk to me during my one of two favorite tv shows and I didn't get to see/hear the ending.  That frustrates me.  But, whatever.

Whatever!

Not like a teenager's "whatever!", just an "it's really not a big deal in the long run of things, so whatever."

Yes, potential guests should inform the host of any delays.  Yes, you should not make people travel 3.5 hours to pick up your kids when there were other ways to get them there.  Yes, house guests should respect the rules and property of the home.  Yes, you should see that someone is engaged in an activity and not bother them.  But, really?  How much of that was anything I could control (maybe I could have asked her to talk later, I only have 15-minutes left to this show, and I'd like to see how it ends)?

So, how can I apply this to parenting?

First, I need to allow others to take the wheel sometimes.  Allowing No.1 to plan out and implement just how he is going to clean his room will be fine.  Sure, I would put things away according to category (all the clothes in the hamper then all the Playmobiles in the box then all the books on the shelf), but if he wants to do it randomly, whatever, it'll still get done, right?

Secondly, I need to just let go of the things that don't go according to plan.  If my husband isn't home in time to watch the boys while I teach piano, whatever, my piano student's parents have kids and know sometimes spouses end up late at work for unexpected reasons.

Thirdly, I need to accept that sometimes (actually oftentimes) other people need me.  When No.2 is having a difficult time sleeping due to whatever it is that worries a 2-year old, then I need to put my crochet hook down, turn off the tv, or put a bookmark in and tend to his needs.  Not that I don't already do that, it's just that I often do it begrudgingly.  But, now, whatever.  The yarn will wait, the show will be online tomorrow, the pages can be read later.

So, here's to sometimes giving in.

Here's to, well, whatever.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Saw Joy

No.1 does not enjoy soccer.  I don't think he ever has, but Daddy played as a boy, and, by-george, so will No.1 (and probably No.2 - but I think he'll actually like it).  After last Saturday's game, I told my husband that after this season, we were done.  No more soccer.  "Ok," he said.  He finally saw what I'd been seeing for such a long time.

Then, today, whadoyaknow, No.1 played the best soccer game of his life!  He was placed in a defense position.  He hung out by the goal and blocked nearly every goal attempt made by the other team.  I actually never saw the other team score on No.1 (I was probably taking No.2 to the potty - fun times).  And while our team was trying to score, No.1 one was dancing and having fun at the other end of the field.  Yes, at times he was goofing off, but for the most part, he was really having fun.

For the first time in a long while, I saw him enjoying soccer.  He found his niche.  He found something he could do well.  He found joy in soccer.

Now, we're sort of at an impass.  He discovered he loves defense in soccer, but said he wants to try baseball.  So, who knows what next spring will bring, but for now I was just thrilled to see him having fun...finally.

So, here's to finding our niche.

Here's to enjoying situations, even though they might not be our favorite.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Went Out

My husband stayed home today (not feeling well), so I was able to help out at No.1's school this afternoon without No.2 tagging along (would have been difficult because of the activity I was assisting with).  It was great to get out and be with No.1 in his daytime environment.

No.1 is so funny because he'll ask, no, beg me to come help out at the school (I go every Monday morning already), but when I get there, a huge smile spreads across his face but soon, it's not biggie that I'm there.  Still, I don't go to get smothered with "Mommy, Mommy!"  I go to help out his teacher.  But I sure do love that smile.

THEN, tonight I hung out with some girlfriends.  We watched a couple episodes of Wives and Daughters and just enjoyed each others company without kids - we love our kids, and we love our friends, and we love when the two don't always mix.

So, here's to taking a break.

Here's to time with friends.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Couldn't Believe What I Was Hearing

Call it a miracle, call it a phenomenon, call it what you will, but it was beautiful.

No.1 sat down and practiced his piano without urging, without threats (actually haven't had to do that in about 2 weeks), without pouting.  Instead, he was excited to play, tried his best (resulting in passing off a few songs), and taking pride in his performance.  I was so proud of him, and I let him know it!

I don't always see the best in my kids, but since this parental transformation I've been trying to make, I have really become aware of the wonderful things they each have to offer our family.  It's not that I didn't praise my boys before for their successes, but now I find myself praising them for just being them!

I love my boys and I hope that I will focus on their positives and regard their negatives as passing and not lasting.  I know that if I feed those negatives, they will be lasting.  So wouldn't I rather have their positives brighten our home?

So, here's to taking notice.

Here's to singing praises.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Tried Something New

I find myself putting my fear/dislike of some foods onto my children.  I dislike, no, I detest cooked spinach, so we've never had it (except when it's mixed in things like lasagna).  I think brussel sprouts are bitter, so my children have never tasted them.  We've only had livers once (turkey liver in a gravy) and we actually all decided it would not make a comeback.  But today, I branched out.  I put my fears aside, my likes and dislikes to the side, and tried a new recipe.

Now, we try new recipes all the time (thank you Pinterest), but this one contained 2 things I've never eaten:  cubed pumpkin and kale.  Because No.1's pumpkin popped open at the pumpkin patch the other day, I've been cooking a pureeing pumpkin for 2 days!  I left some out to cube and use in a recipe - if I could find one.  I figured it would be like any other squash, right?

I found a recipe that looked interesting, but I was nervous about the kale.  To me kale is like spinach.  Truth is, I've never actually eaten it.  So, I put my feelings aside and cooked up dinner.

It. Was. Delicious!

Keilbasa, pumpkin, onions, garlic, kale, seasonings and pasta.  I am so glad there are left overs (it made a lot)!

I discovered today that it is not fair to keep my kids from things because I don't like them (provided they are safe things).  I don't like golf, but that doesn't mean that when No.2 is in high school I'm not going to let him join the team.  I don't like messy goopy gack, but that doesn't mean that I won't let No.1 play with it when it comes home from a birthday party.  I don't like tripe (at least I think I don't like it), but that doesn't mean I won't cook up a good Mexican tripe soup...wait a minute, yes it does, I have to draw the line somewhere.

So, here's to trying new things.

Here's to discovery.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Saw Results

Huh?  Whodathunk getting a good nights rest would cause you to be more patient, more rational, more fun, more put together, more happy, more...better?

I woke up actually happy to get out of bed and start the day.  No.1 and I had a peaceful morning.  He got ready for school, ate breakfast, brushed his teeth, everything without incident.  No.2 slept until I got him up to go to school.

We dropped No.1 off and went home.  We kind of bummed it the whole day.  Laundry was completed, No.1's birthday gift started, house tidy, but basically we were bums enjoying a quite stress-free house.  I guess when you get a full night rest you feel easy going and that translates to "bum" for me.

The good attitudes lasted nearly the entire day until a tired No.1 practiced piano (he had a field trip all day).  I could tell he was tired and that's why he was making mistakes he's never made before, but I didn't acknowledge his state, I messed up and raised my voice (even pounded on the piano at one point).

But for the most part, it was a good day.

So, here's to more good days.

Here's to more bum-dome.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Called It

Today has been a pretty good day, and then the night came.

No.2 is an extremely light sleeper.  Our nighly routine (after the whole bathroom stuff, prayers, scriptures, stories) consists of me rocking No.2 for a little while unil he gets droopy, putting him in his bed, ofrentimes "scratching hand" (rubbing his fingers gently), walking out the the hall, playing on my tablet until I hear sound asleep sleep sounds, then closing the door as silently as I can.  Well, to night, No.2 woke up when I closed the door.  I went through the same rountine, a little faster, and tried to close the door.  Again, he woke up.

When No.2 wakes up like this, it is not your sweet, "Mommy, please rock me." No, it's more of a, "MOMMY, I'M DYING!  COME SAVE ME!"  I finally had to just close the door and let him cry it out. Not what I like to do, but I knew it would be better than losing it in front of my 2 year old.  So I called it a night.

I've known for a long time that I need to sleep better.  I've prayed for patience and the answer I always get is "get more sleep!"  So, tonight I'm finally putting it to the test.   I hope to be asleep before 10:30.

Here's to a good night's sleep.

Here's to a great tomorrow.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Held On

No.2 has a bit of a cold and Daddy was more than willing to stay home and sleep with him instead of go to church.  So, No.1 and I ate breakfast together (hot cocoa and toast - No.1's favorite) and headed out the door.

Church is 3 hours long and during the 3rd hour No.1 was brought to me because he had doubled over while practicing the Primary Program for next weeks presentation and had started crying.  I found out that a friend of his and he were not exactly being ideal students and after a firm poke from No.1, the friend punched No.1 in the stomach.  Real church-like behavior.  I'm so proud.

Anyway, I had him come sit by me in my class.  After about 5-minutes I asked if he wanted to go back to Primary.  "No.  I feel like I need to stay here until the end of church," came the reply.

I could have shooed him back to his class and told him he'd be fine, but there was something about him that made me agree.  I pulled him onto my lap and gently rocked back and forth.  Soon, his head was nodding and then he was out.

I love cuddling my boys.  No.2 is always up for a good snuggle, but No.1 is growing up and although he has not said it aloud, I fear he thinks he's too old for that sort of stuff.  One of my favorite memories is rocking No.1 when he was just 3 on Mother's Day eve.  As he sat on my lap, belly to belly, his head resting on my shoulder, he asked with his little raspy voice, "Meese (please) can you sing 'Close your pretty bue (blue) eyes'?" ("American Lullaby" - Gladys Rich).  So, I was just so very grateful I was able to hold on to him again today for as long as I did (30 or so minutes; until I had to play the closing song).

So, here's to hearing past words.

Here's to holding on just a little longer.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Put Myself Down

Today was full of clouds and rain and an unpleasant attitude - from me.  Yes, it was literally cloudy and rainy, but my disposition matched.  I don't know why.  I felt like I slept well, like I ate enough, but I was just plain grumpy.  So, after failing to accomplish a Halloween photo shoot of my pirate boys and treasure chest dog out at the beach (sprinkles, dog, water, sand - yeah, it didn't work), I decided that I needed a nap, so I put myself down for one (along with No.2).

I slept for a good 45-minutes.  Ahhh.  That did it.  I was ready to face the next 6 hours taking the boys with my husband and 2 neighbor girls to the pumpkin patch and dinner.

So, here's to a good rest - even in the middle of the day.

Here's to recognizing and doing something about negative attitudes.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Let Go

No.1 will be 7 in a couple months.  He has been riding a bike with training wheels since he was 4.  I can't say we're that family that goes on weekly bike rides, because we're not.  We live at the top of a very steep hill and then the road kind-of-sort-of-not-really levels out.  Instead of riding on the street like most kids, No.1 (and No.2 now) ride on the porch. 

It wasn't until last year that No.1 got up the nerve to ride his bike to karate (located really close to our home through our back neighbors neighborhood).  As No.1 improved and became less and less nervous about going faster than he could walk, we tried taking the training wheels off.  Not ready.

Two months ago we made a deal with No.1:  Learn how to ride a two-wheeler and you'll get a new bike (he's out growing this one - remember he got it when he was 4).  So, the Lightning McQueen bike has remained training wheel-less on the porch for these last 60 or so days.  Oh, every once in a while No.1 would try to ride it around the porch (eventually leading me to remove all the screens on the porch windows because he kept crashing into the house), but he just didn't want to try riding it on the road again.

Well, today I asked if he wanted to ride his bike to karate.  "Yes!"  (Hooray!)  He asked if I was going to put the training wheels back on, but I told him no more training wheels.  "OK."  (Double Hooray!)

I pulled his helmet off the hook, dragged his bike across the backyard, down the neighbors hill and onto the street.  No.1 clicked his helmet and climbed on the bike.  So far so good, I though.  Now, to get him to go.

To my surprise, my Nervous Nellie of a son started peddling!  He peddled for about 1.5 seconds before peddling straight into the ditch.  I caught him before he completely fell over.  I didn't want him to skin his knees or tear his gi.  I held onto his handle bars to help him steer when he climbed back on, but was quickly shooed away.  So, I held his seat.  That lasted about 4 seconds before he asked me to let go.

Let go?  You've never asked me to "let go!" before.  You always beg me to hold on.  I felt a little crushed, a little unneeded, unwanted, and nervous.  I felt so nervous for him.  What if he did get hurt?  What if he gets scared and forgets to break before putting his feet down and flips onto the rocky pavement?  What if he ends up breaking an arm?  My nervous for him greatly outweighed any selfish feelings that fleeted through my mind. 

I want to protect him - all the time.  If I can keep him from harming himself, I want to be able to do that.  I don't want him to hurt.  I don't want him to be sad.  I don't want him to feel pain.  But what I want, I realized, is not what's best for him.  No.1 needs to experience those things, and many more unpleasant things to become a well-rounded and self-sufficient individual able to help himself (and others) through difficult times.

So, I let go.  I let go, and do you know what happened?

He crashed.

I bet you thought I'd share this marvelous tale of how he rode perfectly, did a few wheelies, impressed a passing driver and now has a contract for BMX.  Ok, so maybe that's too much, but the real story is even better.

When he crashed, he crashed safely.  He put his foot down and sort of rolled.  No injuries (no torn gi).  He then realized that he wasn't quite ready to try the hill we were going down, asked if we could just walk the hill, of course, then was ready to try again at the bottom.

No.1 sat down, kicked off, and peddled.  He was actually peddling and balancing a two-wheeler!  He started laughing a wonderful laugh that just melted my heart.  It was the laughter of pure joy, accomplishment, excitement, with a splash of nerves.  I whipped out my camera hoping to capture it, but couldn't get it in time before he faltered and fell over.

Our trip to karate continued with more riding than falling.  We arrived 6-minutes late (our 5-minute walk turned into a 15-minute bike ride), but I didn't even care.  My boy was so proud of himself.  He was just thrilled!  He did something all by himself.  Something no one could really help him do.  He did it!  It was hard, it was scary, it was frustrating, but he did it.  He was able to experience those incredible feelings of self-accomplishment because I had let go.

So, here's to letting go.

Here's to letting them learn.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Called for Help

When I was a junior in high school, I asked my mom at, oh, about 9:30pm if she had finished my choir outfit because we had our field trip the next day.  Her eyes got big, then she scowled, "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?  I don't even have it cut out!"  So, my mom and I both headed to the basement, measured, cut, and sewed the (hideous) green pants and suspenders.  We finished well after midnight.  My mom was not thrilled to be staying up and probably not happy about me staying up late either, but she had a point to make:  It's your responsibility, you figure it out, but I'll help you.

My mom was always there to help, now that I think about it.  Sometimes she'd ask us to wait (a second, minute, day, week - depended on the project), but she always helped us.  She still helps.  I call her all the time for advice with cooking, canning, cleaning...and she always has an answer or says she'll get back to me with one.

I learned at a very young age as my mom or dad would always ask "did you read the book?" before they would answer a homework question that I needed to research an answer on my own first; use my brain - the smart one my parents genetically and my Heavenly Father lovingly gave me.  I am so not a visual learner, though.  I'd sometimes read and re-read those math books and still not "get it."  Or, I'd read a definition out of the dictionary and not make a connection.  My favorite one was always, though, "Mom, how do you spell ********?"  "Go look it up!"  (How am I suppose to look it up if I don't know how to spell it!?, I silently screamed.)  So, I'd go again to my parents and ask for help.  And, they would give it to me - provided I proved to them that I actually had read the book (because sometimes I didn't).

My dad likes to tease me when I call and ask him questions.  He charges me $0.3765/hour, or some ridiculous amount of money.  He keeps an imaginary tally of how much I owe him.  I think I'm up to $3.8573 now - and that's over the nearly 17 years of living on my own.  Steep, huh?  I call him with all sorts of questions about Sunday school lessons, political matters, and gardening tips (my mom could answer all those questions, too, but ya gotta make dads feel good for something, right?☺)

My point is, my parents are always there to help me figure things out.  I guess I'm sort of the same way, too, but I tend to want to help first.  Our typical afternoon consists of me leaning over the counter as No.1 is doing his homework and correcting his spelling, math, reading (not necessarily tell him how to correctly spell the word, add the numbers, or read the letters, but having him try it again).  I'm trying to learn to sit back, let the boys try on their own, then help fill in the gaps.  I can go over his work after he's done and have him correct his errors.  I can come in after he says his room is clean and help him see that he missed a few Playmobiles or Legos.  I can let him try a song out on the piano then help him through the tough parts.  I like to get things done right and right now, but I need my sons to learn to learn, discover, create on their own.  I'll be there to help along the way...should they need it.

So, here's to standing by.

Here's to helping hands.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.






Oh, so, why did I call for help for today?  I was making a booster seat cushion for No.2 (his current booster seat has arms on it that don't fit under the table, so he's not up real close).  It required piping and the directions were not clear (online tutorial - I use the word "tutorial" lightly).  I called my mom.  She was able to, over the phone, guide me through the process.  Tah Dah!  Thanks, Mom!

The Day I Finished My First (post-toddler rearing) Parenting Book

Today, instead of folding the laundry I still have in the dryer from Tuesday night (yeah, they're gonna need to be run through again), instead of dusting the clearly visible (but only when you run your finger through it, as my children have/do) dusty furniture, instead of starting my August scrapbooking I'm behind on, I sat down and read the remaining chapters of Mean Moms Rule.  (No.2 was napping and so I had the space to concentrate.)

My review:  I loved this book!  She writes like she's blogging (and she does, blog, that is).  It was fun to read and the contents was relatable and just plain good advice.  Denise Schipani encourages parents to bring their parenting back about 3 decades when parents said no, assigned chores, let their children do what is considered now dangerous things, and let their kids be kids.

My favorite chapter was #8:  Slow It Down.  Slow It Way Down.  No.1 has asked for a tablet for Christmas and/or his birthday (he'll be 7).  I immediately said, no; my husband said, let's talk about it.  My argument:  7-year old's don't need tablets!  My husbands:  Kids need to be exposed to such technology so they'll be up with the times.  Well, chapter 8 suggests, actually pleads with parents to let the kids be kids.  Don't rush them into the world, let them discover it at their own pace.  She actually shares a story of two mother's she overheard:  One had just purchased her 8yo daughter an iPod Touch (hmmm, could this chapter be any more appropriate for my dilemma?).  Schipani silently asks, "What does Halley get next year?  A Lexus?"  Later in the chapter, she re-references the iPod story and writes, "[The mother] felt it necessary to buy her eight-year-old an iPod Touch, not because the girl had some overachieving, preternaturally advanced affinity for technology, but because the iPod was, well, there (not to mention on sale).  What's her rush?  What I saw there was a raging case of Jones-keeping-up-itis, don'y you think?  That poor woman was racing all over town, trying to get the best deal on an item that her daughter had not asked for, and then spent a good ten minutes nervously justifying her purchase to her stony-faced friend, who was herself more concerned with the peer pressure situation this would stimulate between Little Miss iPod and her own, presumably less electronically endowed, son."

Granted, our son has asked for a tablet, however while watching a commercial for a Leapster Ultra, I asked him if that's what he wanted.  Yes, that's what he wanted.  Unfortunately, my husband puts forth the argument that he'll outgrow it (his Leapster Explorer games really are too easy for him now, and the Ultra apps don't get much more difficult, so I understand what my husband's getting at).  The husband also says, "Besides, all his cousins have them."  There's that peer pressure.  Funny thing, I thought we had the final say on what our kids do and don't do, not their cousins or their aunts and uncles or even grandparents, for that matter.  Anyhow, I still think that No.1 needs to wait to get a tablet; maybe wait until he can buy one himself.  He is not responsible enough to handle such an expensive piece of technology, parental controls are not what they need to be on those devises, he doesn't need to sit around playing on a tablet all day (not that I would allow that if he ever had one - or when he finally does buy his own), oh, and he'll only be 7!!!!

So, now I am out to help my husband understand why I stand where I stand regarding the tablet.  As it stands now, No.1 is not receiving on because Daddy and Mommy have not seen responsible enough behavior, but I still want my husband to see my side (he doesn't have to agree, but he has to at least see).  Just because he wants it, doesn't mean he needs or gets it.  Just because we live in a tech-savvy world, we don't need to spoil our children with gadgets.  Just because his cousins his age have tablets, well, if your best friend jumped off a cliff...


Another great point Schipani makes is that we try too hard to childproof the world.  We try to make the world ready for our kids instead of our kids ready for the world.  She writes about Princess Dianna and her gargantuan wedding dress that required a small army of people to carry her train, drape it perfectly on the cathedral steps, and figure out how to get it into the fairy tale carriage after the ceremony.  Then she shares the metaphor of all of us as "overworked bridesmaids, shuttling around in service to our kids (the brides in this metaphore) in giant dresses (the world we're piling onto them).

It's a world our kids are ultimately going to be as unready and unsuited for as poor Diana was; though she made a good show of it for a long time, she was never quite able to hold up under the weight, first of the dress and tehn of the expectations.

In a similar way...we try - earnestly and lovingly but wrongheadedly - to hold up and smooth out the world around our kids and before our kids, like the train on that dress or the red carpet the royal bride treads upon, making everything friendly, safe, unchallenging, and unruffled for them."

I saw in myself how I try to childproof the world for my children.  Of course, I have locks on drawers and cabinets, but that's ok (we've already called Poison Control at least three times for No.2); it's the hovering I find myself doing from time to time.  I make sure No.1 gets him homework done right.  When alone at the park, I stay right on No.2 to make sure he's safe (I guess I assume that when other kids are around, they'll watch out for each other).  I often do things for my kids because, number one, it's just easier for me to do it, and, number two, because I'm not sure they could handle it.  I am, however, getting better and I must say that in the last year or so I've relaxed a lot and my helicopter parenting is more of a glider parenting style - I'm there if my kids need me, but, for the most part, I let them try on their own (another chapter:  Fail Your Child A Little Bit Every Day), and allow them to learn from their own experiences.


I can't say I learned a whole lot about how to parent from this book, but it made me think about how I do parent.  I think Denise Schipani and I would get along just fine.

Here's to Denise Schipani and her great insights.

Here's to being more reflective of my own parenting style and fixing what needs improving.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Failed to Be

Have you ever been driving and all of a sudden you notice you're 10-miles further down the road than you thought you were and you wonder what you were doing (besides driving) those last 10-miles?  Well, that was me today.

Of course, now that I'm really trying to think about my day, I recall changing light bulbs, doing laundry, setting up a new baby gate, washing window sills, putting lamps in No.1's room, making lunch, phoning my mom and sister, school runs, soccer practice, homework and piano, yahdee yahdee yahdah.

But those were all memories of doing.

A thought just now comes to mind.  "To be, or not to be." I always thought that had to do with being alive or dead (having not truly studied the whole of Hamlet), but now I think it means to be alert and alive in the moment, or to just go about doing. 

I think it is a choice to be, or not to be.  I chose to just get things done, to just check things off my to-do list,  to just do and so I missed out on the blessing of being.  So, although I still have things to do each day, I will strive to turn off auto pilot and actually be there in those moments.   I don't want my boys growing up to say, "Yeah, my mom was always around, but that's about it."

So, here's to choosing to be.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Had No Regrets

It isn't often that I can reflect on my day and say, "Good job, lady.  You did it right today."

Yes, my day was perfect.  My kids were perfect.  My husband was perfect.  The weather was perfect.  It was all perfect.

Now, if you believe that,  I've got a bridge . . .

No, everything wasn't perfect, except the weather, yah that was pretty much perfect, but my reactions to my imperfect world were ones I could be proud of.

No.1 had a difficult time this morning.  Only the sun knows what time he actually woke up, but I found him engrossed in a movie at 7:30.  I told him it was time to come up and get ready for school.  No response.  I walked downstairs, turned off the power to the dvd player, told him to go upstairs, get dressed,  and eat breakfast in a firm, but not wildly yelling voice.  He obeyed, at first.  Clothes were put on, but that's about as far as we got before his behavior required more action on my part.  I calmly told him he'd lost screen rights for the rest of the day.  Pouting ensued accompanied by a few tears.  I had not served his punishment out of anger, and he knew it.

I am blessed to have a son who does not hold grudges, and, when asked, understands why certain consequences for his actions were given which he also sees as fair and reasonable (that's not to say he doesn't try to get out of them: Can I earn it back?).

Later, while No.1 and I were working on piano, No.2 wandered into the front room carrying his Elmo "unwear"in his little hands.  "Ewe!  Poop!" I took the garment and, sure enough, he hadn't made it to the potty on time.  I took a breath, led him and his underwear to the bathroom, and set him on the pot.  "Where do poops go?" I asked.  "Poop potty," he answered.  I was not happy to wash underwear in the sink, but I was glad he came to me and that I didn't get upset.

We ended the evening with a Family Home Evening leason on loving your neighbor, making a treat, and delivering it to our neighbors.  Because we visited with our friends for a little while, our bedtime routine started later than usual, but the boys followed directions pretty well and all tasks were completed in a timely manner.

I think of how the day started with such frustration from No.1 and ended with such a peaceful night and I wonder how much of that end result was due to my behavior throughout the day.

Let's hope I don't have to find out that it wasn't.

Here's to doing things right, for once.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Was Able to Think

Sundays are not always the most restful day around here.  I've wanted to somehow change that for a long time.  Last summer I was able to visit my parents ward and was amazed at how reverent their congregation was.  I learned some things during that visit that I have started to implement in our Sunday schedule.

I have cut snacks during church.  Periodically I have a meeting before church and if we're running a bit late I might pack some Cheerios for the kid's breakfast, but no more snacks in the chapel.  I have cut out toys like cars and action figures.  Instead, the boys bring totes with one book, one coloring pad, one Friend magazine, and one coloring activity or brag book filled with pictures of Christ.

At first, No.1 was upset about the new rules and No.2 would bum food off of others, but now they get along just fine.  With a 70-minute sacrament meeting, it can get hard for kids to be still, so I don't ever see myself being a mom that makes her kids sit the whole time with folded arms and eyes straight ahead (I've never actually seen one, but I'm sure she's out there), but I am satisfied with the improvement in reverence from my boys during the meeting.

Today, when I returned to the pew after playing the organ, I saw that there was no room for me so I sat behind my family.  I watched my boys sit quietly with my husband through the blessing and passing of the sacrament.  It was then that I realized, "Hey!  I'm not wrangling bodies!  I can actually reflect on the sacrament and it's meaning to me!"  At that point, I offered a small prayer of thanks for a quiet moment, for the atonement, and for my eternal family.

I am grateful for the opportunity I have each week to partake of the sacrament, an ordinance that allows me to renew my covenants I made at baptism.  Today I was able to think about those covenants and quietly ponder how I could better live them.


Here's to reverence in sacrament meeting.

Here's to quiet moments.

Here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Did Tiddly

If you were to stop by my home today, you would have caught us all in our pj's (well, No.2 was half naked - potty training, remember?).  It was a perfect grilled cheese and tomato soup day with rain and all.  We weren't being lazy, we cleaned rooms, did laundry, and made meals, but sometimes, on rainy days especially, it just feels right to stay in your jammies.

However, during our busy inside day, I found made time to play a game with No.1.  He had pulled Tiddly Winks from the game closet and patiently waited for me to put No.2 down for a nap then set up the retro game on his table.  I fit my pajama clad rear into his tiny chair and we enjoyed a good 30-40 minutes of Tiddly Winks.

Why is this an important parenting move for me?  Here are 2 reasons I instantly think of.

#1:  I had laundry to fold, dinner to prep, floors to sweep...but I put those things aside to spend a few minutes with my boy.  It was so worth eating frozen Tyson chicken nuggets for dinner.

#2:  I was able to teach him.  I kept score the first game and had him keep score for the second.  He wanted to up the score to 1,000.  I silently cheered because I was going to be able to teach him addition of three digit numbers.  At first he didn't want to write the points down and then add.  He did just fine adding in his head until the math required a carried number.  So, I was able to show him how it's done.  In between the math lessons, there were lessons on being honest (not double shooting), mercy (take another try, it didn't even leave the felt pad), and good sportsmanship (I won both times).

I hope that each time I look at that game I remember today.

Here's to making time.

Here's to making memories.

Here's to making a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Kicked Myself

Today as I was cleaning up the kitchen counter, I went through a pile of magazines that had piled up.  They included 1 Allrecipies, 2 National Geographics, 3 Parenting, 4 Ensigns and Friends.  I decided to toss all of the magazines I wouldn't have time to read: Allrecipes and National Geographic that I had already flipped through and the Ensigns - I could read them online, besides I needed to read Parenting to get help in, well, parenting.

Plop!  In they went.  The Friends were put in with church bags and Parenting was taken to my room.  Ah!  A clean, uncluttered counter.

Then it hit me.

Why did I throw out the Ensign?

I had thought to myself that I needed to keep Parenting, but wouldn't the contents of the Endign help with parenting more in the long run than the kiddie crafts, silly stories, and "expert" advice found in Parenting?

I kicked myself for being so foolish.  What better way to discover how to be a better parent than the words of later-day prophets, apostles, and sincere deciples of Christ? That's not to say Parenting will no longer be received in this house, but if I had to choose a parenting magazine to really invest my time in, it would have to be the Ensign.

So, from here on out I vow to read the entire Ensign before throwing it out.  I promise to read those Ensigns I tossed online.  And I will try harder to keep my reading priorities straighter so I don't have to kick myself in the rear again.

Here's to a less black and blue bum.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Starved My Family

Ok, so I didn't starve starve them, but I really messed up dinner.  I plan my meals monthly, but I failed to read all the directions for tonight's dinner (it had to sit over night), so I tried to wing it.

I'm not a good cook.  I can follow someone's recipe like nobody's business,  but when it comes to understanding food, I fail miserably.  So why I thought I could wing it with stuff from the fridge I'll never know.  I actually think it wouldn't have been too terrible if I hadn't mistaken sweetened condensed milk for cream of chicken.

Anyhow...

I ate one of my creations (named Asian Burrito) quickly before calling the boys down because I had a student coming.  I admit it wasn't great, but it wasn't terrible.  The guys came down and started to eat.  They were kind at first, but mid piano lesson, No.1 came to me and announced in front of my student and her mother that "dinner was so gross we all decided not to eat it".  Ouch!

Now, I know it was impolite for No.1 to interrupt the lesson, especially with the announcement he shared, and for a split second I was upset with his behavior and embarrassed by his words.  But then I thought, I bet that mother has messed up a few meals in her cooking career.  I then thought, I'll talk to No.1 later! 

That might not seem like a big deal to you,  but you need to understand my personality.   As a child,  if one person got in trouble in class, I felt guilty.  If a teacher made one correction publically to my work, I felt an inch tall.   If people expected me to be perfect at something and I didn't pull through 100%, I felt like I had severely let them down.  Heck, I still feel that way. 

I felt guilty, an inch tall, and a disappointment in that half second.  But then for the rest of that second I thought, so tonight's dinner wasn't the greatest, so what? and I moved on.

So here's to accepting mistakes.

Here's to chicken nuggets in the freezer.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Bought Training Pants

A friend of mine recently posted her excitement about her 14-month old being off the bottle for a week and now she had to tackle potty training.  Potty Training!  Wow!  I know some kids train early, but 14-months?  Lucky lady.  I guess.

As I have mentioned before, No.1 pretty much started potty training himself at 18-months.  He wasn't proficient until about 20-months.  It was a long, but easy process.  I've read about different methods in potty training:  let the kid run naked; watch for cues; put them on the pot every 10 minutes; have them eat salty things and drink lots of water; the list goes on.  I'm sort of at a loss for No.2.

No.2 periodically wakes up in the morning dry and usually is dry after naps.  He has gone pee on the toilet and has even put himself on the John before.  Well, today, after waking up dry, going to the bathroom before we took No.1 to school, using the restroom in Walmart and Target, I decided maybe we should pick out some training pants.

No.1 used Pull-ups.  I don't know if I want to do that with No.2.  He seems to need to really feel the wet and not just "the cool" (we tried a Pull-up).  We came home from our errands and No.2 was asleep.  I laid him down in his bed and an hour later (short nap) he was up and dry.  I had him sit on the potty.  He didn't go.  I put his diaper back on him.  I was cleaning up the kitchen and wasn't watching him or else I would have caught his pooping signal (he hides and stands/squats really still), so he messed his diaper.  At least it was his diaper and not underwear.  I got him cleaned up and put him on the toilet.  Nothing.  I went ahead and put a new pair of training pants on him.  Daddy came home and I had to leave to get No.1 from school.  I told Daddy to watch for signs, and I left.  Shortly after I came home, No.2 had an accident.  This happened a couple more times.  Each time I played it off as no big deal (I didn't get upset), but reminded him that "peepee and poop go in the potty" and placed his tiny hiney on the toilet.  No.2 never went to the potty again.  (I wonder if he prefers public restrooms.  Ewe!)

We'll try again tomorrow.  Daddy is taking the day off so we can work on this together.

I hope I am not pushing the potty training too early.  I hope I'm reading his readiness signs right.  I hope we're out of diapers soon :)

Anyway.  Here's to happy potty training a 26-month old.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Laughed It Off

Today I woke up to a Trix box on the kitchen counter.  This is strange because we have a "finish the cereal in the cabinet before you open another box" policy in our home.  No.1 and No.2 were called in to eat breakfast.  They came quickly and sat down at the counter.  I asked No.1 where the Trix came from.  He said, "You said I could pick breakfast today."  It was clear that I was not clear yesterday.  Yesterday I had told him he could pick a breakfast for tomorrow (today).  He took that as pick a new cereal.  I meant cereal, eggs, pancakes...

In the past I may have said, "You know that we don't open new cereal until the other is gone.  Now go put it back!"  Today I said, "Oh, I see why you might have thought that, but we still have Cheerios in the cabinet.  We won't be having Trix today."  We both sort of giggled and ate our Cheerios happy and unstressed.

I went to a baby shower after No.2 and I dropped off No.1 at school.  There were kids there since it was a morning shower and I found myself really watching the other moms mother.  I was not judging, but looking for things I want to put in my goodie bag of tricks.  Mother A calmly retold her child that if she wanted to eat the snack, she had to sit at the table; the child didn't sit; the child didn't get the snack.  Mother B rushed to her child who hurt himself, scooped him up, and shushed and bounced him until he felt better, he then remained on her hip nearly the remainder of the shower.  Mother C helped her children learn to share and take turns by helping the one pass the toy to the other.  Mother D put her little baby on the floor and let him do his thing, checking on and picking him up periodically, but allowing him to explore.

I realize that some of these tricks work for some, and not for others.  I for one do not practice attached parenting like Mother B.  I do, however, stick to what I say like Mother A.  I liked how Mother C gently taught and didn't just tell, and I see good and bad (for me) in the freedom Mother D granted.  Either way, I snickered at some parenting styles (not because they're ridiculous, but because I could never see myself doing that), and put a few others away in my sack.

The rest of our day went by and then it was time to pick up No.1.  No.2 was asleep, so I left him with Daddy and went to the school.  I was in the pick-up zone for just a few seconds when No.1 came in all smiles and happy to see me.  I was happy to see him, too, but he was missing something...rather, he was missing everything.  The child had left his classroom without any of his stuff!

Earlier in the year, No.1 really worked hard at getting use to the new teacher's system.  Sometimes he'd forget his folder, other times he'd forget to turn something in from his folder.  Things like that.  He had been doing so well the last few weeks, and then today - complete mindless behavior.  I asked him where his backpack was.  The reaction on his face told me instantly that he had honestly just forgot.  I usually get annoyed when he is so forgetful, but today I laughed and we headed back down the hall to his classroom.

His teacher chuckled and said she thought they were meant to be together and that they must be kindred spirits because she's always telling him the same thing she tells herself:  It's a good thing our heads are attached to our body's with necks or else they'd go rolling on ahead of us and we'd just keep on walking!  We both had a good laugh at that, then he gathered his belongings, and he and I headed home.

I believe that response really shaped the rest of our afternoon before soccer.  We had an hour to get homework done, piano practiced, and soccer clothes on.  The homework was not hard, but it took a while (I read him a story, he had to visualize it then draw an illustration).  Next came piano.  I am so pleased at how practice went and he was pretty darn proud of himself, too.  Then it was time for soccer.  It all ran like clockwork.  It was beautiful.

I really saw the phrase "If Mamma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!" come true today.

Here's to happy Mommy's everywhere.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Made a Chore Chart

It's one of those things you know you should do, but just never get around to.  However, I have decided that in order to better myself, I must also better the running of my household.

In the past, No.1 has known what was expected of him.  When he was 2 he was thrilled to start feeding the cat and dog.  When he was 3.5, he actually asked to add toilet cleaning to his chore list!  We used a cute Melissa and Doug responsibility chart that incorporated the use of magnetic happy faces and task bars.  But by the time he was 5, in soccer, piano, school, and karate, the idea of chores just seemed too much for me to handle.  Not him, me.

Melissa and Doug was pushed to a corner, and although I would periodically ask No.1 to feed the dog or swish the Clorox wand around the toilet bowl, the consistency was gone.  The house stayed clean and tidy, I made sure of that.  I was doing a service to my family, but I was doing a disservice to my boys in not allowing them to learn that we need to work as a family to keep our home nice so that we all, as a family, can enjoy it.

Flashback two days ago to when I returned from my parenting sabbatical.  I asked No.1 to join me in the kitchen.  He sat at the bar while I stood on the other side.  I asked, "What do you think you can do to help out our family?"  His first answer:  take out the trash.  We agreed that he can gather the trash each Monday and I will take it to the dump Tuesday.  He also chose to set and clear the dinner table each night.  He has decided that he will practice piano after dinner, do his homework directly after school (no more after school snack), and keep his room clean and read each night.

Now, it may look at first as though all these things were HIS ideas, but in truth, I led him to those decisions.  As an educator, you learn how to do those sorts of things.  So now No.1 feels empowered just enough to take responsibility for his decisions.  It's a fine line I walk allowing my child to feel empowered, but I believe all children should feel that they truly have the right and ability to make decisions.  However, as No.1 learned Sunday, every child should also learn that there is someone bigger above them who can shoot those decisions down.  Not in a mean way (yes, I'm reading Mean Moms Rule, but I'm not cruel, and besides, that's not really what the book is about), instead, in a way that twists their decisions into something that works for both parent and child.

How do I do that?  I'm glad you asked.  I will answer with an example:

No.1 decided he only needed to practice piano 3 times a week.  Um, no.  That's not gonna fly.  I told him that he had to do 6, however in the back of my mind, I was ok with 5, but I had an "if" too.  He suggested 4 days, I said, "How about 6, but if you pass off all your songs by Friday, you don't have to practice Saturday."  And emphatic yes burst from his lips and his head nodded in great excitement.  He won by getting a free day from practice, and I won by getting the number of days he needed to practice.  See?  Nice, huh?

So with all his chores written down and an agreement made, sealed with a hand shake, I set out today to make a reminder (for both of us) of what was now expected of him, and really, what he expected of himself.

I threw in some chores for No.2 as well (feed the animals, brush his teeth - a task he hates, clean up toys, read, put clothes in hamper).  I'm not sure he'll be to into moving his magnets over to the "Done" side, but at least I'll know what I need to help him accomplish each day.

So here's to a better run household.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me!

The Day I Decided Not to Yell

Today was day two of our church's General Conference.  Yesterday, I listened to a talk about taming your temper.  Ironic, I know, as I stormed out of the house just hours later.  But I really did ponder the words which had been spoken and decided that today I would tame my temper.

I come from a line of dramatic women (guess I know where No.1 gets it).  My red-headed grandmother is extremely outspoken and would often speak harshly to her husband, my gentle grandpa.  My red-headed mom was known to beat a wet dishcloth over the edge of the counter in lieu of striking one of us children, that's not to say our fannies didn't ever meet her hand, they did at times, but the temper was the same either way.  So it's no wonder I have a temper (what is a wonder is why I don't have red hair).

If you were to meet me out and about, or even get to know me pretty well, you would never suspect the temper that explodes within the walls of my own home.  I am pretty good at keeping my cool, but when that last straw is placed on this camels back, watch out!

It's crazy, because every time I throw my grown-up temper tantrum I think afterwards, "I would never treat someone else that way, why my own child?"  I teach private music lessons and many times throughout my years of teaching I have had students come unprepared to lessons.  I patiently instruct them through the lesson and encourage more effort throughout the next week.  In fact, most of the parents who refer me to others say my number one quality is patience!  (You'll remember, I use to perform, I can put on a pretty good show apparently.)

So, why can't I show this same patience with my own child?

I've rationalized it with thoughts that I know his potential, what he's capable of, and that I know he's just playing dumb.  And playing dumb really gets my goat, so I turn into Mr. Hyde and tear into him.

Well, today, ladies and gentlemen, that changed...at least for today.  What is it they say in AA:  One day at at time.

I had plenty of opportunity to lace into No.1, and No.2 for that matter today:  No.2 bit No.1, No.1 pulled games out of the game closet and spilled some over, No.1 teased No.2, No. 1 and 2 were at times disruptive while I was trying to take notes during conference, No.1 had drawn on the ceiling in the basement.  But I didn't.  I had made up my mind that I would take a different approach.  I decided firm and clear, but NO yelling.  And do you know what?  It worked.

I took No.2 by both arms so he could be still and look at me as I firmly told him, "No Biting!" and put him in time-out for 2 minutes.  He stepped out a few times, I put him back each time, and then it was over after an apology, hug, and kiss for No.1.

I calmly told No.1 that he needed to pick up the games and put them all away.  When he protested that it would be too hard, I plainly told him they were children's games and so children were capable of putting them back together.  So, he did.

I pulled No.1 aside and told him that his behavior was unacceptable and unkind.  He apologized and stopped the teasing.

I payed attention to the boys and their needs/wants ("watch what I can do!") and decided that I could read the transcripts or watch the videos of the conference talks I missed later.

I calmly walked upstairs, wet a Magic Eraser, walked back down, showed No.1 how, and had him clean the ceiling.  I also made him clean-up the rest of the basement.  It was clean by the time I came home from accompanying a youth choir.

Not once did I raise my voice today in anger, but I did raise my voice in laughter and singing and play.

Today was a good day.

I liked today.

I liked my kids.

And I liked me.

Here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Snapped

First of all, let me say I am proud of the woman me, happy with the wife me, confident in the friend me, sure of the teacher me.  It's this whole business of being a mommy that I'm just now figuring out that I can't seem to figure out! And so begins my journey to a better Mommy Me.

I've really had it pretty easy these last 6 and three-quarter years.  Our miracle son came to us after 8 years of infertility, 3-months of Clomid, and one IUI session (that's what worked).  He was born 6 days overdue, but I didn't mind.  I had an easy pregnancy, so what was a few more days - except we wanted his birth to be a little farther away from Christmas...

We brought home our beautiful, healthy boy, celebrated Christmas with family, everyone was gone after the new year, and we began to settle into our new lives.  Lives we'd been waiting for for so long.  We'd read baby books, we'd been to the classes, we'd received advice (wanted and, well, not-so-wanted), and we were ready.  Turns out, we were pretty good at this baby stuff.  Our little guy was sleeping through the night around 2-months with wonderfully scheduled naps during the day.  He nursed beautifully, and drank expressed milk and formula (he didn't care) from a bottle at the sitters while I was at work teaching other people's children, he practically followed the baby books and online resources to a T in his development and even started potty training himself at 18-months!

This parenting stuff, on the whole, was pretty easy.  When No.1 turned 2, we decided it was time for me to stop working and start concentrating on No.2.  6 failed IUI's passed and we were on the road to saving for IVF when I asked my OB if we could just try Clomid in the meantime, you know, just in case.  Two months in and No. 2 was on his way.  So, we then had a 4.5-yr old and a new born.  I was worried No.1 wouldn't take it too well, and though it did take a couple days to adjust, but the two of them were best buds before the week was out.

I was now a stay-at-home-mom.  A role I'd never experienced, but, oh, so glad to take on.  We figured out a schedule for No.2 that still allowed No.1 to have some one-on-one time with me and life continued.

Well, now No.1 is 6 and No.2 is 2 and I have just discovered over the last month that things are changing.  No.1 has his own agenda and it doesn't always coincide with mine.  No.1 was placed in the gifted program in kindergarten, so we knew we had a smarty pants on our hands (really, we've known that for a long time), but now he's figured out how to use those smarts to try to outwit us.  No.1 will purposely push buttons, use his amazing selective hearing powers, and overreact when reprimanded (for instance, he was misbehaving at the table last summer, so we told him he had to leave and go to his room, so on his way he "tripped" over the vacuum and got "tangled" in the chord, and I mean tangled! - drama king).

So, it's all him, right?  It's all his fault he's so over-the-top and dramatic.  It's all his fault he pushes buttons.  It's. All. His. Fault.  Right?

No.

It takes two to tango and had I not erupted into a screaming banshee when he first pushed that button, had I not made such a scene when he threw his tantrum, had I not thrown him in timeout because he wouldn't practice his piano (lot o' good sitting in time out does for piano practice, huh?), then things might be different.

Well, things will be different.  I know because I've made up my mind that they will be.  And here's why I've made up my mind:

Today, No.1 was to be practicing piano.  It wasn't hard stuff.  He'd been playing it for 4 or 5 days already, but today he wanted to push buttons, not keys.  I'd had it up to here, and from my seat to the left of the keyboard I looked at him and half yelled/half cried, "WHY CAN'T YOU BE OBEDIENT?!"  Oh, but that's not it, I yelled upstairs that I was leaving, I had to get away, and asked my husband, no, told my husband that he had to take care of the boys and then I left.  I got in my car and left.

I got as far as the end of the driveway and decided since I was running away, I might as well take the book club books back to the library.  So I spun the wheels back up the gravel drive, stormed back inside, grabbed the books, slammed the door shut behind me, then I left...to the library.

I took the bag of books inside, dropped them off on the return cart, and decided I'd look for the sequel to the book I had just read (The No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency - great read, by the way).  Book two was out.  I sulked for a second then a thought came rushing into my mind.  An unwanted thought because the thought meant I was inadequate, unprepared, unresourceful, less than, damaged, scum, worst-mother-on-the-face-of-the-planet.  Oh, the self talk got much worse, but I'll spare you.

What was the thought?  Parenting Books.

Parenting books!  I know!  I don't need parenting books.  I've kept two kids alive this long, they know I love them, I spend time with them, I do nice things for and with them, I'm a pretty cool mom.  Parenting books?  Those are for people who beat their kids or have kids that beat them.  Parenting books?  That's not for me.  Besides, if I read a parenting book, that just means that I admit...I......need.........(*gulp*)............help.

After that whole 0.5476 seconds of self talk subsided, I realized that I did need help.  No, my child isn't terrible and neither am I, but I felt that if I didn't get a grasp on things now, I would never get a grasp on things later.  I have wonderful parents, but I do remember fearing them at times.  That's not what I want for my children.  I want them to know that I will be firm with them AND I love them.  I read someone's post on facebook one day:  I love you too much to let you behave like that.  I know...it's beautiful.  That is the kind of discipline I want in my home, but I fear that I am headed down the same road my well-meaning parents went down.

So, back to the card catalog I went and typed in "parenting books".  I scanned the titles and descriptions if there was one, and chose one I thought I could relate to: Mean Moms Rule: Why Doing the Hard Stuff Now Creates Good Kids Later

I found the book, pulled if off the shelf (man, 256 pages never felt so heavy), sat down in the sunlight on the new library's new pleather couch, and began to read.

I am a slow reader (I explain it as I read in my head how I would like to be read to; I was also a performer so I add a lot of fluff and expression so it takes a while), and I knew I wouldn't be able to finish it before the library closed at 5, but I stayed there in that seat for as long as I could and read nearly half the book.  One of the librarians announced closing in 15-minutes, so I had to go up to the circulation desk a check it out.

Do you remember when you were a teenage girl and you had to buy certain products at the store every month or so and you tried to conceal those plastic packages as much as you could because you didn't want anyone to know what you were going through?  Well, that's how I felt as I walked to the front of the library past all those good mommies with their good little boys and girls who were making final selections of Berenstain Bears and Dr. Seuss.  I held the book so no one could read the title.  What would others think of me...checking out a parenting book?  What's wrong with her?  Why doesn't she have enough motherly instinct to figure out her problems on her own?  Oh, poor lady, she must have a really bad child.  I didn't even want to think of what the librarian would think when she scanned the book.  Luckily, we have, as I mentioned, a new library, and with it comes some really cool technology and so I was able to check out on my own.  Crisis averted.

Only after coming home and facing my children and husband I'd run away from for 2 and a half hours did I realize that, yes, I do need some advice, and no, it's nothing to be ashamed of.  What is to be ashamed of is when you're 60-something and your 30-somthing son is entering rehab or jail or starting a new job again because you didn't check a book out from the library 30 years ago.  Ok, so that's a bit harsh, but I'm here now to nip this in the bud.  Let me again reiterate that No.1 is not bad or troubled and I am not a terrible mother, but I know that we can both be better.

So, here's to a Better Mommy Me!