In the ‘Hood
October 28th, 2011
October 28th, 2011
I took my 5 month old daughter to a local pumpkin patch last week. As I was dressing her in the “My First Halloween” outfit I’d bought her to celebrate this little milestone, I started thinking about all of the other “firsts” that would be hers to claim in the next few months; her first time sitting up, first tooth, first time crawling, first Thanksgiving, first time standing on her own, first Christmas, first steps and of course, her first birthday.
People love “firsts”. Firsts make the newspapers. Firsts warrant pictures and parties and acclaim. Firsts make the ‘Guinness Book of World Records’; but I’ve been a parent long enough to know that if you’re not careful, you’ll focus so much on the all important”firsts”, you’ll miss the equally important “lasts”.
Author Karen Kingsbury wrote a book about the “lasts”. It’s called, “Let Me Hold You Longer” and it’s one of my favorite storybooks for children. (Even though it makes me cry. I still can’t read the last page when the son goes off to college and have to hand it to my husband when I get to that part.)
Those of us who have grown children earnestly advise new parents to enjoy their little ones. “The days drag but the years fly” is my favorite quote to describe life as the mother of a baby or preschooler. In the midst of an endless to-do list of diapering, bathing, feeding, playing, teaching and comforting, it’s natural for a stressed-out, under-slept, overworked mom to wish for the next, seemingly easier stage of development when her baby sleeps through the night or is finally toilet trained or _________.
But if you spend your time wishing and hoping for the next “first”, you miss some of the very important “lasts” Karen Kingsbury talks about in her book. “Lasts” such as the last time your little one needs you to nurse her back to sleep or the last time you make silly airplane noises and pretend that the spoon in your hand is a train pulling into the station to get baby to eat.
Naturally, we want our children to grow and it’s our job as parents to help them master the skills necessary to be successful in life. But we also need to enjoy the process of parenting at whatever stage our children might be in, because we don’t always know when those “lasts” will come. Today might be the last time your child needs you to tie their shoes for them, the last time they need you to plug in the nightlight or the last time they drink from their sippy cup.
Every “last” is a reminder to us to stop and cherish the moments we have with our children, the way they are right now, this very minute. For they will never be exactly this way again.
Enjoy your little ones, Moms & Dads! Firsts, Lasts, and every day in between!
Baby's First Halloween
October 12th, 2011
Four weeks ago, I began writing a post for this
blog on the topic of work/life balance.
Then I got so busy with work and well, life, that I kept running out of time to work on it.
(Hmmm…there’s a lesson there, I think!)
Oprah Winfrey was once quoted as saying (and I’m paraphrasing here), “A woman can absolutely have it all. She just can’t have it all at one time.”
I think there’s a lot of truth to that saying. Over the years I’ve been a stay-at-home mom, a single mom with two jobs, a mom that worked part-time, a mom that worked full-time and now I’m an entrepreneur. Sometimes I took a job because I had to and sometimes because I wanted to. Sometimes I stayed home and wished I was at work. Most of the time I was at work, I wished I was home. Now, I work from home and have the benefits of both but it’s still difficult to find that elusive balance between my “home” life and my “work” life.
My children know first-hand how busy I am and what a challenge it is for me to try to “do it all”. One of them drew this picture of me a few months ago. In it, I’m carrying a purse with “SM” on it for “Supermommy”. I’m also holding my laptop, a baby and a spoon for cooking. Amazingly, I appear to be happy and completely carefree in spite of this. (I have to say that for the most part, this drawing is a fairly accurate interpretation of me on an average day. (Except maybe for the carefree part.) And MAN, OH MAN! Do I wish I actually had 4 arms!!
Of course, despite however much I accomplish on any given day, I still beat myself up over all the things that didn’t get done. (Like many other mothers, guilt is my constant companion.)
But even in the midst of that regret, I still feel a deep sense of satisfaction that I’m not SO focused on taking over the world that I don’t stop to do things like cook a homemade meal, take my kids to the skating rink, or sing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” to the baby for the 100th time. Do I feel like a failure sometimes at effectively balancing my home life and work life? Absolutely! But I try very hard not to let that deter me from continuing to try to find better ways of managing my time and energy so I can be both a better mom AND a better businesswoman.
Not just better, actually.
“Super!”
After all, I have a reputation to maintain.
September 4th, 2011
Labor Day.
Let me begin by saying that after you’ve brought 5 children into the world, it’s pretty near impossible to hear the word “labor” and not think of the birth process.
But “Labor Day’ of course, has nothing to do with childbirth. Instead, according to the US Department of Labor, Labor Day “is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American worker”. It’s a day of rest. A day to barbecue, relax by the pool and enjoy summer’s last “Hurrah!”
It’s a great idea, honoring those whose hard work makes life better for all of us.
A few years ago when I was a stay-at-home mom living in Virginia, my family and I frequented a local ice cream parlor every Sunday afternoon. The owner of the shop usually served us personally. “Rocky Road with side of political commentary” was his special. One day, in the midst of complaining about how bad the economy was, he launched into a rant about “producers” vs “consumers”.
“I’m a small business owner”, he explained. It’s producers like me that keep our economy going.”
“You”, he said, waving his hand in a dismissive fashion in the general area of me and my marshmallow and fudge coated offspring, “You’re just consumers.”
I swung around in my stool so he could get a good profile of my then 7 month pregnant belly. “I disagree”, I said. I’m not “just a consumer”. “I’m a producer, too. I produce consumers. Several of whom won’t be buying your products anymore.”
I’d made my point but his accusation nagged me. The fact is, raising children at home isn’t seen as worthwhile work in many people’s minds.
I remember a Bible study I attended at which we were discussing the various feast days in the Old Testament. The “Year of the Jubilee” was mentioned and we learned that during this time no one worked for one year and everyone enjoyed a tremendous feast. (Talk about your Labor day holiday!) I joked to our host that no one had to work for a whole year…except the women who had to cook the feast.
He guffawed and shot back, “Cooking isn’t work!”
We all know that he’s not alone in that opinion. Every mother invariably gets the question, “So do you work or do you just stay home?”, as though being a stay-at-home involved doing nothing more than sitting around watching TV all day.
Moms, let me assure you that you ARE making a difference in society, whether you work outside of the home or not. The children you’re raising today are destined to become the leaders of tomorrow. That’s a serious responsibility and one worthy of your undivided time and attention, should you be in a position to devote yourself exclusively to it. Either way, motherhood is hard work.
So enjoy the holiday weekend. Put your feet up.You’ve earned the right to enjoy Labor Day.
And if you find my friend who thinks that cooking isn’t work,
tell him to make his own hot dog.
August 29th, 2011
Mothers aren’t allowed to have favorites. We’re expected to love all of our children equally.
But I’m here today to confess to you that among my 6 children, I absolutely have a favorite.
Which one is it, you ask? Well, let me explain.
Several years ago, when talking to a dear friend and mothering mentor, I expressed my frustration that I sometimes felt like there wasn’t enough of me to go around. I had four children at that time, two of them under the age of three, and my older two weren’t getting as much of my attention as they did when my brood was smaller.
My friend had 6 children at that time and told me a secret. She said that when people asked her if she had a favorite child, she answered, “Yes”.
“My favorite”, she would tell them, “is the one who needs me the most.”
I watched this concept in action several years later as my friend left 5 of her children at home and hopped a plane to be with a grown daughter who had left home for college and broken her ankle. My friend stayed with her daughter for several weeks and lovingly nursed her back to health, then flew back home. Several months later, when another of her children injured her shoulder, my friend was back on a plane, flying out to stay with that child.
None of her other children ever had a problem with her leaving them behind to take care one of their siblings because they knew that when they needed her, she would be there to love them with the same undivided attention.
This past week, my house was germ-central. All of us had a nasty cold.
(Allow me to digress for just a moment to say that moms aren’t really allowed to be sick. My children came home from school Friday afternoon to find me laying on the couch looking like death warmed over.
“I’m not feeling well.”, I explained.
“I’m sorry, Mommy. I hope you feel better.”, said my youngest child sweetly.
“Thank you, Honey!”, I replied.
A moment later he asked, “So, what’s for dinner?”)
As I spent the weekend giving Tylenol to this one and cough lozenges to that one, I remembered my friend’s wise words. Instead of feeling overwhelmed at the prospect of caring for several sick children (on top of having a 3 month old and being sick myself), I simply focused on taking care of the child who needed me the most at the time.
It was good practice, I think, for the next phase of mommyhood- a time in which my children are grown but will still occasionally need me to drop everything and run to their side to support them.
And when I do, everyone will know which child is my favorite. For the moment, anyway.
August 24th, 2011
Sometimes, in the process of trying to teach my children a valuable life lesson, I end up learning one myself.
Last summer, a dear friend gifted us with several milkweed plants from the Yard Stop in Mt Dora. Living on the plants were several Monarch Butterfly caterpillars. My younger children were thrilled to have the opportunity to watch the magical and mysterious process of metamorphosis unfold right before their eyes on our back porch. For weeks, we observed the ravenous little creatures with great excitement as they stripped the leaves of the plants bare and then spun their cocoons. Day after day passed and then just as the children thought they might just actually burst with anticipation, the first butterfly emerged from its suspended shroud in all of its glory and there was much rejoicing.
After the butterflies hatched, we lovingly fed them with trays of mashed bananas and sugar water. Then it was time to release them into the wild and let them fulfill whatever destiny nature had intended for them.
As we took our net onto the porch to collect the butterflies for their release, my mind wandered back to the first time I’d done this. It was 13 years ago. My oldest was 7 and each of the families in his second grade class were raising butterflies at home as a group project. We had decided after the butterflies were 3 days old that we would meet en masse at the local nature center and release them all together. Watching them soar into the heavens was a beautiful sight.
Afterwards, on the car ride home, my son began to cry.
“What’s wrong, Honey?”, I asked.
“Mom!”, he sobbed. “I knew them their WHOLE LIVES!”
In my very best “Mom can heal any hurt” fashion, I began to counsel him on the importance of letting go and how saying goodbye is just a part of good parenting. Sweetie”, I said. “I know just how you feel. I’ve known you your whole life and one day I’m going to watch you leave home and start your own life.”
I meant to say it cheerfully, to comfort and encourage him.
Instead, I started to cry, too.
So there we were, the two of us sobbing in the car, mourning the loss of our children. His babies were 3 day old and had wings and mine were still years away from leaving the nest but in that moment, we both understood the universal truth that it’s hard to let go of someone you’ve loved so deeply and have invested so much of your time and energy into raising.
Oh, but to watch them spread their wings, take off and soar into the heavens!
After a lifetime of sacrifice, what reward could be greater?
August 19th, 2011
The tiny brown onesie hanging on the Target rack caught my eye as I passed by.
“My Mom Doesn’t Want Your Advice” it read.
I knew immediately that this was a shirt destined for my 3 month old daughter’s wardrobe since strangers giving me unsolicited advice is a pet peeve of mine.
(Before I go any further, let me state for the record that I greatly appreciate and welcome the advice I receive from friends and family. I have been blessed to have been mentored by several wise and wonderful mothers who have helped me become a better parent over the years.)
My oldest child is 20, which means that I’ve been in the business of mothering for more than 20 years. In that time, I’ve given birth to 4 boys, taken on the role of stepmom to a beautiful little girl and been a nanny and preschool teacher to many other little ones.
None of this parenting experience seems to matter though when I take my baby girl out in public. When I step outside, it’s as though a sign appears on my forehead that says, “Clueless mom! Please help!” Invariably when I’m at the grocery store or running errands, one or more well- meaning strangers will feel compelled to share their incredibly helpful (and totally unsolicited) advice:
“That baby is cold. Where are her socks?”
“She doesn’t need that blanket. She’s hot.”
“She’s crying. She must be hungry.”
“She’s crying. She must be tired.”
“She’s crying. She needs to be swaddled.”
“Babies don’t like being all wrapped up like that! You should loosen those blankets!”
This type of advice is all too frequently given by those who believe that the way they parent (or parented) is the only “right” way to do so.
(And don’t even get me started on people who don’t have any children who give parenting advice to the rest of us!)
If my years of raising children have taught me anything, it’s that no two children are alike. What works for one is by no means guaranteed to work for another.
Moms (especially new moms) need to be encouraged, NOT criticized!
We often struggle with insecurity and self-doubt and those feelings are only made worse by the seemingly endless (and often contradictory) stream of unsolicited advice given to us by strangers who think that being an expert on their own children makes them an expert on everyone else’s children, too.
On the bright side, these encounters can be helpful in helping a mother find her own “voice”. In the process of defending herself, many a mom has found herself cementing her own parenting beliefs and becoming more secure in her role as a mother.
As for me, I’m through defending myself against the criticisms and accusations.
I’m just going to let my daughter’s new onesie do the talking for me.
What about you? How do you handle unsolicited advice on parenting?
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