Extreme happiness v. exceedingly pleasant

It's been 3 months since my last post. My dad has complained. I have something I want to say and the inclination to say it here. So, welcome back.

When was the last time you were so happy, you shouted aloud? -- Not a direct quote, but something to that effect. I heard this today on RadioLab. The speaker was Aleksander Gamme, a "professional adventurer." One of his recent adventures was a solo trek across Antarctica. Along the way, he buried caches of food - to lighten his load & provide sustenance later when he really needed it. Like on Day 86, at which point he'd lost 55 pounds. When he finds his last cache, he doesn't even remember what's in it. When he finds Cheese Doodles, he lets out a shout of pure joy, that goes on & on, and which is revived as he finds more bags of goodies.

I can't remember when I last shouted aloud? I mean for pure happiness. Can you?

I had an exceedingly pleasant day.

Yesterday was a HUGE day. My daughter's 3rd birthday party. We went fairly low-key. Just some friends & neighbors, what little family we have locally. But I did want her to feel super special and have a blast. Mission accomplished.

Today, we kept intentionally uneventful for her.

I, on the other hand, got to have a mini-reunion with a couple friends from days of yore - my mid-20s in DC, a lifetime ago! A bit of beach lounging, followed by delicious brunch that has yet to digest. Plain lovely.

On my way home, I heard the RadioLab episode - well, half of it. I have every intention of downloading the podcast - you know, sometime.

When I got back, naptime had just ended, followed by a leftover cupcake. The overwhelming aspect of all her new loot has worn off, and she's ready to play at a somewhat less frenetic pace - you know, one at a time. We colored an Ariel mural, did a floor puzzle of the 50 Nifty United States, then hit the swing set again. Afterward, the 3 of us played a few rounds of CandyLand before dinner.
When I read the rules of CandyLand, I thought it was silly how simple it was. Yeah. Now I understand. Rules? Turns? Schmules & Splurns. CandyLand may exist exclusively to teach children the concept of a boardgame. As well as to reinforce patience in their parents.

After dinner, we had some grapes on the patio, then she went down the slide a few more times. As I was sitting watching her & enjoying a lovely breeze, it occurred to me - exceedingly pleasant.
I'll take it.
Perhaps you don't need to starve yourself and ski 10 hours daily for 86 days in frigid conditions to achieve extreme happiness.
Perhaps I should shout aloud that I have as many exceedingly pleasant days in my life as I do.

On that note - Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!

The Next Generation

There are things we enjoy passing on to our children. And there are things we wish we could avoid but just can't.

What I'd like to avoid is tantrums. And acting out for mom & dad, while being an angel at school and for grandparents. And yep - that's something I passed on. Apparently, I used to change behavior in a heartbeat upon my mom's return. Turnabout; fair play; all that jazz. But you know what, I don't feel like talking about tantrums. And it's my blog.

Let's talk about Enjoyment!

I hope to pass on to my daughter - some geeky loves. I have scored some small successes.
Earlier today, we had a tea party with Data among the attendees. (Yes, I have an action figure. It was a gag gift. One I never parted with, but a gag gift nonetheless.)
We're not quite ready to sit down to an episode of TNG, but a girl can dream.

A little less geeky but a more resounding success - Puff the Magic Dragon. Sure, it's a pretty standard children's story / folk song. Yet, I would trace my love of SciFi/Fantasy to those TV adaptations in the late 70s.
I always felt terrible for Puff. How could Jackie Paper leave him behind. Perhaps that's why I never completely left him behind myself.
But we do, as we grow older, lose a little of our imagination. The ability to truly be in Honalee.
If we allow it, having children can allow us to take back a little.
Which is why I literally snatched this book up when I saw it at the library.

The illustrations are beautiful. 

I have never simply read it to her. We sing it. Obviously.

She actually requests it. And she'll ask for it again when we get to the end. And I'm no singer. It's got to be the pictures. And perhaps the story.

The power of her imagination validated, in page and in song.

She has taken to naming the occasional imaginary guest Honalee and Jackie Paper.

And then there's Junie Paper.

Junie?

It's the name we gave her, and she's the best part of this book.

See the guy in the back? That's Jackie Paper. Her daddy. He told her about Puff. She went to Honalee and brought him out of his cave.

See his smile? That's the joy of allowing your child's imagination to run wild. While you get to sit back & watch. And remember.

From the Trenches: Tantrum Survival (so far)

First - YIKES! I knew it had been awhile. But my last post was September 22nd! A whole month! Nothing in particular to explain it. Just - you know - stuff.

Anyway, enough about that. 

I have a few posts I've been thinking about in that time & hope to get to them soon. But right now? I just need to talk a little about tantrums.

Perhaps I can help someone survive their own. I know writing about it will help me.

So. Here goes!

We've survived 3 fairly big tantrums in the past 24 hours. And can I just say? -- wow. I deserve this Halloween candy 9 days early.

Does it ever seem like tantrums are a direct result of doing something extra fun?

Like going to the pumpkin patch with a couple other little families. Then dinner back at our place. Then when the last other child leaves, yours is so let down that SHE JUST CAN'T SEEM TO FIND HER LISTENING EARS!!!?!! WHERE DID THEY GO? NOT TO MENTION HER NORMAL VOICE INSTEAD OF THAT INCESSANT WHINE!??!!

Or like letting her wear her Halloween costume early. Then expecting her to willingly take it off to eat lunch. And heaven help you if the darned rescue pack isn't on tightly enough. And PS - pretending to talk to Diego on your phone about how he doesn't wear his rescue pack to nap - is NOT going to help. She knows he's not on the phone. Obviously. Because he's right there in her hand! Can't you see him?!!

Okay. My extremely brief summation of the incidents has led me to an irrefutable conclusion about the costume incidents. My fault. i.e. preventable. Of course, she wouldn't want to take it off. And just because she asked about it, didn't mean I had to give it to her. Probably saying "wait till after lunch" would have incited a small tantrum, but oh - what I got was not small.

So -- survival step 1 -

Avoid obvious set-ups to tantrums.

I'm not saying hide your family away in the house & never do anything fun. She had a great time at the pumpkin patch & playing with my friends son. We had a nice time socializing with adults, even if it was doing a "family friendly activity." In the case of last night, we just had to grit our teeth & get through it.

Bringing me to -- survival step 2 -

Grit your teeth & get through it.

You're the adult. If you snap & yell back, you only reinforce the behavior. You show that that is exactly how people handle frustration. It can't last forever, right? (Right? RIGHT?!!?!)

I am proud (& a little surprised) to report that I did not snap during the first 2 tantrums. But yep, I sure did (not badly, but I did) during the 3rd.

So, now to -- survival step 3 -

Take a time-out if you need it.

After my little snap during the last tantrum, I apologized to my daughter and told her I was taking a time out to try to calm down. I literally went and stood in the corner until I felt a little better. In the corner, I realized that what she was asking for (or had briefly been asking for before she started screaming & bawling incessantly) was to have her "Rescue Pack" on tighter.

And thus -- survival step 4 -

Don't not cave just for the sake of not caving.

That's what I was doing in the naptime scenario. Pretty much just as stubborn as a toddler, right? If at all possible, I try to get her to ask again in her "normal voice" for whatever it is. That way it's not (technically) like she got what she wanted because she threw the tantrum. Then I try to talk calmly about how we could have avoided the tantrum if she had just talked in her normal voice. That the tantrum hurt us both & blahblahblah.

But also -- survival step 5 -

Don't cave just for the sake of stopping the tantrum.

Last night's tantrum resulted because kids don't like consequences. (And really? Who does?) Just before our friends & their son left, the 2 kiddos were playing drums & piano. My daughter decided that she should have all instruments, and the other child none. We asked her to please share before he left. And that we could then go and watch a little Diego. Nope. After they left, I asked her to please sit on the potty before we put on jammies & watched a little Diego. Nope. So -- into her bedroom we went. UTTER DEVASTATION. She assured us she wanted to be good & behave. We explained how that was wonderful but didn't change the consequences of previous behavior. Just under 30 minutes of intense toddler tantrum later, she decided to ask (in a normal voice) for something else - a different pair of jammies. Random. But doable. So I went and got them, and my husband started books. She didn't even get so far as to get the new jammies on. I read like 1 more book and she was out. (Tantrums are exhausting. See also step 1.)

My husband might roll his eyes (or laugh), but I honestly felt good about last night's tantrum -- afterward. I feel like she learned that there are boundaries, expectations & consequences. That sometimes they're hard, but that she's capable of living within them. I know she noticed that we sat there calmly through the tantrum, spoke kindly to her & each other, and that afterward we had big hugs and kisses all around.

You can't win 'em all. But with a little effort, you can learn from 'em all.

Oh, but PS. Did you notice how all 3 tantrums are somehow related to Diego? It's all his fault. ;P

Lessons Learned on Life & Love

Too little to learn.
But I guess that's relative, and subjective.

He's 5. She's 2 and a half.
She has adored him from day one. And the adoration only grows.
When his family first moved next door, he wanted to show her all his toys and would talk your ear off to keep us outside just a few more minutes.
But over the past year. He's started school, grown up, etc.

I took my daughter for a quick swim at the community pool this morning.
I'd entirely forgotten there was a big party for the holiday.
Or did I even open that email?
We had a nice enough time. (With some usual for right-now shenanigans & loss of listening ears.)

Then we saw our neighbors.
Great, I thought. And it was great to see them.
Then it was time for us to go. And she wanted a hug.
She in her Swimmer & SafeTSeal Vest.
He in his goggles, showing off for kindergarten friends.
Of course he didn't want to hug her. Of course. I saw that. I understood.
I tried to get her to leave. She wouldn't. Cried his name. "I want a hug."
I broke down and even asked him myself.
He pretended not to hear me.

I scooped her up. All tears, screams and writhing. I grabbed our bag and made it to our truck as quickly as possible. I hugged her tightly. I told her boys don't always want to hug you when you want them to. I told her I loved her.

What else can you do?

At the back of my mind, I can't remember whether I asked her if she wanted to hug him goodbye. And if I did or didn't? So what, really.

Boys don't always want to hug you when you want them to. Or girls for that matter. Disappointment is out there. That was her lesson. We all relearn that regularly.

I know the day will come with bigger disappointments and heartaches. I cherish every moment that doesn't hold tears. I cherish that, for now, I can stop the tears with a hug, a kiss, and a few whispered words.



My lesson was this -
Kids start caring what other people think all too soon.
I knew he didn't want to hug her. And I knew exactly why.
Because it was embarrassing. Because the kids his age might laugh at him for being friends with a baby.
I understood.
Then it hit me - a 5-year old cares what other people think? Those expectations are already upon us at such a young age? We can't just be who we want to be & be unafraid of judgment? .. even then?
And? --- I took it for granted.

I know the day will come all too soon that it's my daughter on the giving end of the disappointment. The day she'll decide whether or not to do something based on what her friends will think.
I will hate that day.
The end of innocence.



So till that day - I cherish each moment completely lacking in pretension. Announcements to full restaurants that you've pooped (be it in your pants or in the potty). Conspicuous playing with imaginary friends and talking to dolls or her fingers. Wearing Hello Kitty rainboots with everything. Making funny faces for the camera anytime mommy asks.

What else can you?

29 (not) forever

Today, my daughter is 29 months old.

I stopped counting in months sometime around 2 years old.

Certainly, the months still make a difference. You can tell a 26 month old from a 32 month old, but they're both still "2". But you feel dumb saying, she's 28 months. For a time I said, she turned 2 in April. Now I say, she's about 2 and a half.

Since she was born April 1st, the 1st of each month always strikes me. And yesterday, it struck me - 29. I was 29-years-old when I met her dear-old daddy.

29-years-old. That's the age people (jokingly or seriously) say they are when people ask & they don't want to say.

I guess there's something magical about it.

There was for me.

Life. is different now.

My path. diverged.

Have you watched Dora or Diego? If you've not had the pleasure, let me tell you - there's a frequent question - "Which path should we go down?" 

Sometimes there's 2 choices, other times 3. 

There's always a correct choice. 

They always tell you what was down the other path.

So different than life.

In life, there are infinite choices. 

Maybe they don't feel infinite at the time, but in truth they are.

There's is certainly not one correct choice. 

There are better choices.

But it's entirely subjectively, never concrete. Nothing so delightfully simple as "We chose the path with the cuddly animal we were helping. Down the other path was a baby-eating snake."

Good choice. Go, us.

I chose a path. 

I'm happy with it. Very.

I suppose you could call it a right path.

Sometimes I get a glimpse of the other path.

And I can't deny it's appeal.

Couples without children (and I'm looking at you, H&K) - your travel pics and nights on the town, microbrew tours and so on - all of it is right up my alley. But I do such things rarely. Because of the little girl sleeping on the other side of the house.

Really, I don't know how to go on from here. Without sounding like - a) I want to trade my daughter for a few beers or a trip to Greece. Or - b) Going on & on  about why I'm glad I chose my path (or it chose me?) and unintentionally making it sound like I think you made a bad choice.

Neither is true.

I hope only this - that all of my friends (single, married with or without children) are happy & fulfilled. A tall order really.

But why am I even pondering these choices?

Yes, there's the 29//29 thing.

But more.

We're making the choice again.

Another one? 

Many people assume that having one means you'll have two for sure, 3 or more is questionable. But 2 certainly.

Not us. We pondered. Our answer evolved.

At this point, signs point to yes.

The intention is now there. If not the full certainty that was there the first time.

I'm scared.

Life is good now. Why rock the boat?

Well, again - I don't want to sound to parents of onlies like I judge your choice. I do not. I still hold it at the back of my head as "maybe that would be the best thing for us."

But then I see my kiddo looking at pairs or groups of children. At the park today, "Look at those kids having so much fun." Tonight at the Nebraska bar, just looking and wondering about a table with a bunch of kids.

I've read the studies. I know only children can be every bit as happy as (or -ier than) those with siblings. I know the benefits of being an only child for her. I know the benefits of having an only child for me/us. I find them compelling.

Hence the lack of full certainty.

Unfortunately, Dora is not going to show up and point me down the correct path. 

For better or for worse, you can't go back and "try out" the other choice. Quantum physics and all that.

Fortunately, I think it is highly unlikely that there are baby-eating snakes down either path.

Fate will decide, I suppose. Also biology. Also my frequent inability to stay awake through her bedtime.

Wish us luck.

And much happiness to each of you on whatever path you choose.

Here's a little help ---

Wasted Time, Tea Time & a Tale of Two Pizzas

In my 20's, I was a bit wild.
And when I say that - I mostly mean I frequently drank too much & made some poor choices.

Good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment.

- Rita Mae Brown

Now that I'm a momma, my lifestyle is much tamer.
Not that I'm exactly tame. But I wouldn't say I'm wild.

Except sometimes.
Sometimes I forget.

Just for example, let's say my kiddo goes to Oma&Papa's for a sleepover, and I have the neighborhood gals over for a few games and a few drinks.
So easy to forget in those moments how different life really is.
You get to having fun, feeling like your old self.
So easy to go a little overboard.

Then the next day, kiddo returns.
Kiddo witnesses mommy's head in the toilet no fewer than 4 times.
Kiddo pats mommy on back & tells her "It's okay. You're okay."
Mommy feels really good about herself. Really good indeed.

But there are good moments too. Like, sometimes when you just can't care about details, you remember that sometimes that's a really neat thing?

Since I couldn't cook, we got a pizza.
Since I couldn't argue, I said yes when Hubben asked to eat in front of football on TV.
And you know what? It was fabulous.
Those Papa John's breadsticks were the first things to stay down all day.
Thank you, PJ. You rule.
And watching football was so snuggly and, honestly, something we enjoy together.

Most meals are at the table, facing each other & talking about our days. But football meals are special too.

Still, I was just a little off that day. And, insanely, the next day too.
And, heartbreakingly, I could see this in my daughter.
Not that things were bad. I just didn't quite feel connected. And I could tell she didn't either.
Yuck. Major yuck.

But the day after that, I busted out the new teaset we got in the mail. (Thank you, Kohl's Cash!)
I threw the leftover pizza in the oven.
And we all drank the heck out of some "tea" while it cooked.
No work. Just fun.

Most meals take me some effort to prepare. I enjoy it.
My daughter can sometimes help. It's fun.
But not as much fun as a tea party.
Let's be honest.
So, sometimes - leftover pizza is pretty special.

We ate it at the table btw. :)

The point is - if you screw up or let yourself down, don't wallow in it.
Be there for the little one who needs you.
Dust yourself off, and pour yourself a nice Cuppa.

Motherhood Moments: Laughter & Panic

This morning, I had one of those motherhood moments that immediately made me laugh.

Last night, I had one that made me panic and hate myself for a bit. I don't hate myself any more, but I doubt I'll ever laugh at it.

Both. Were opportunities. For learning. and For growth.

I love the growth, but could pass on the panic and guilt. I'm not sure that's possible though.

Here are the moments. Laughter first.

My daughter is nearly 2 and a half. A very verbal & social 2 and a half. But still very much 2 and a half. We started potty training her last Thursday. She's been doing amazing. Uh-Mazing. Like 0-2 accidents daily amazing. Now, mind you, we were mostly setting her on the potty every 30 minutes or less. But still, amazing. We even had a breakfast & park outing yesterday with Zero accidents.
What happens when you're too amazing? You get cocky. That's what.
I took her to the grocery store this morning. I asked her half-way through, "Do you need to sit on the potty?" A: "No." Okay, she's a big girl. She knows. Yes, but only 0.5 seconds before she pees.
So, right between milk & eggs. "Mommy, I have to go potty." Before "OK" could get out my mouth, pee was streaming down the cart. Oh, well. I had extra clothes for her, so off we went to change. We talked about how mommy would just take her, until she knows sooner & what a good girl she is for telling me. Then I had a talk with myself about bringing extra clothes for me. Then we finished the shopping. (Blissfully, only 2 more items in my pee-soaked shirt.)

Now, Panic.

My daughter likes to help me cook. I love that. But it's challenging. Finding a thing that's safe for her to do. Finding a safe way to do it. Even when you think you've got it just right, she might decide to jump up & down on the chair instead of cooking like she said she wanted to. Or, suddenly, the knives might be right there in her reach. Ack! Not relaxing. But I consider it good practice for when she gets older? Maybe I'm crazy. But I like her knowing & experiencing how her food happens. So I keep trying.
And I will keep trying after last night. (I think.) But MUCH much more carefully. Like, maybe you're over there doing totally fake cooking while I'm over here doing the real thing. Except, I bet that won't work, and she'll see through my facade.
Anyway, I've stalled long enough. My daughter got burned. Not badly, but literally.
I wasn't feeling my best, so we were having a lazy afternoon. Blue box Mac'n'cheese for dinner in front of football was up next. I told her she could help. I meant that she could help stir the sauce together. I set a timer, to show her how long the pasta had to cook before. Not having it. The empty box & a spatula? Yes! For 1 minute. But she wanted the real deal. So, I pulled the chair over and stood with her. I gave her a long spoon, and told her to be very careful. Sure, yes - my 2 and a half year old knows just how to be careful with hot water. You betcha.
You know what comes next. Over-vigorous stirring. Splash. Burned belly. Hysteria.

What I'm so glad didn't come next. Finger-pointing.

In my mind: That's exactly why I told you you couldn't help.
because who wants to blame themselves?
Out of my mouth: I am so sorry. It is my fault. I can't let you do things that I know might hurt you. Even if you get mad at me. I am so sorry.
because that's the truth.

** We removed the shirt, grabbed the boo-boo pad from the freezer, snuggled up & wiped away tears.

I'm sure in my husband's mind: Idiot! You're the adult. She's the child. Don't put her in harm's way just to shut her up.
because that's the truth.
Out of his mouth: There. You're okay. Mommy took good care of you.
because that's the truth too.
Then he finished dinner. Then we all snuggled in front of football & enjoyed our Mac'n'cheese.
Her belly is fine. She is fine. Our family is great.

It was completely, 100% my fault. I know that. My husband knows that. But he also knew that blaming me wasn't going to make it better.
My daughter might not know it was my fault. But she knows that it isn't hers. And she knows that mommy & daddy are a team. Even if we sometimes fail to stop her from getting hurt, we work together to take care of her.

And we always will.

Hard Choices -- Now, It's Personal -- Healthcare, part 2

Perhaps you've heard how much I loved the birth of my daughter. Perhaps you know me well enough to know of passion for natural birth.



If you do or you don't, I'll be brief - I am passionate about natural birth. I believe it's what's best for mom & baby. I know it is what was right for me & my daughter. I know that if I have another baby, I want to do it again.

I won't go into the reasons why. The evidence and experiences that led me here. You might disagree with me. You might even think I'm out of my mind. Fine. That debate is not what this post is about.

This post is about choices.

Recently, I broke my silence regarding the healthcare law. I explained in theory why I support the Affordable Care Act - mandate and all.

But now, it's personal.

We want to have another baby. (Sort of. Or at least we think we do. But that's also a topic for another day. Or a never day.)

I loved the OB practice we used with our daughter. Go back them, right? Easy choice.
Except not. In the past 2 years, my insurance dropped my beloved OB. I don't begrudge my employee. Our benefits are top-notch, amazing even. Majority rules; economies of scale. Nearly every child-bearable employee was going to a branch of a large OB practice in town. I get it.

But I honestly felt punched in the gut when I learned about it. My choices - 1) Pick a new OB in-network. 2) Or go to my old one - and pay 30% of all costs instead of 10%.
Based on the research I did during pregnancy one, this is the only practice in town that is truly friendly to natural birth. 

So, get new insurance, right? Easy choice.
Except not. My husband looked into his employer's insurance. For starters, the premium was more than twice the cost of mine. (See, I really do have it really good.) Same story for an individual plan.

In 2014, if no one repeals it, the Affordable Care Act goes fully into effect. Insurance exchanges will increase my ability to pick & choose an insurance company & plan that fits my needs, not the needs of the majority of my co-workers.
So, wait till then to have a baby, right? Easy choice.
Except that's 2 years from now, and I'm already on the upper end of my child-bearing comfort zone. (Also not the topic of debate for the day.)

So, the hard choice. Just pay more for the thing I really want. If it's that important, do it. And it is that important. There are things I can give up, without too much pain, to make up the difference.
I know that's a luxury.
My mom (30+ years in insurance claims, till she moved here to spoil her granddaughter) crunched some numbers today. Thanks to a generously low deductible, the differential will actually be less than we thought. Just under $1400. My husband & I both work, and we (currently) have but one child. But that's still a lot of money to us. Can you imagine a family with one income and more kids? Or just more kids? Or a sick kid?
Not a luxury everyone can afford.

Speaking of cost differences. If you've had a baby, you know the hospitals require you to pay in advance for your birth. They estimate the cost, based on the average. I got around $200 back. That would have been just my cost for an anesthesiologist and epidural. I remember factoring it out at the time. I came up with a figure over $4000 dollars that I saved the healthcare system overall.

And I'll do it again. You're welcome.

Alpha & Omega

So. Today was the day.

My kiddo's first day at her new school.
My last day in the hospital. (Much anticipated move to outpatient clinic happens tomorrow.)

I was pretty nervous. Not about today, but more about tomorrow.

When a big change takes place for your kid, you want to be her rock, right? Right. Timing is everything. Oh well.

If tomorrow goes half, or even 20%(!), as well as today, I'll be X.TAT.ICK. For either of us, let alone both of us - ZOMG.

She literally skipped into the place this morning. It was earlier than our visits, so we didn't know the teacher, but she didn't give a hell. She raced in and started playing with toys. Her whimpering before I left was almost token. No tears. No prying her off me.

I called a few hours later. "Oh, let me check," the assistant director said, "last I heard, she was running around like she owns the place."



:)

And that's pretty much how I found her a few hours later. (More hours than I'd have liked, btw!) Sitting in a tent, shaped like a car, with a handful of new friends, singing "the Wheels on the Bus." One girl informed me that it was a car, but she did so after my little boss was out of ear shot getting a diaper changed.

I cannot fully explain it, but this was a totally different girl than I picked up from old school last week. She's always been a hoot. She's always been smart & sweet. She's always been my little girl. But tonight, she was more like the little girl who spent the day with her Oma & Papa (my parents).

She also got the nicest compliment from her teacher. (In my mind.) "She's so positive." I love hearing cute & smart, but positive - that was new! And, to me, very important & totally awesome.



Usually, she races to me at the end of a day & clings again. Tonight, she was relaxed. She saw me. She smiled. She kept playing.

You might think that would hurt my feelings. Nope. Thrilled. Thrilled to watch her play with her friends. Thrilled to know she knew I wasn't going anywhere & should could play till she was ready.

Eventually, we did leave. We came home. We made dinner. She helped. Really. The fish may have been a little more lemon-peppery and/or garlicky than I would have done alone, but it was delicious. Absolutely delicious.

Change: Too Much of a Good Thing?

"Change is good."

People throw that sentence around a little too freely for my taste sometimes. Oh, I grant you, change can certainly be good. But a couple of things:

• It isn't always good. 
• You can get too much of a good thing.
• Saying & knowing it's a good thing doesn't magically erase stress.

My little family of 3 is experiencing 2 of the 3 right now. Happily, all of the changes are happy ones.
But all 3 of us making big changes at once? Whoa. Just, whoa.

• My husband started a new job a few weeks ago (his second this year).
• I start a new position at current job in two weeks.
• Kiddo starts a new school next week (her second this year).

The career moves are one things. People of a certain age & mindset have to do those things. (Right? Or do we? Thought for another day ...) 

But that last one. Why oh why would we move our daughter when there's so much going on? When she's just starting to used to the newest teacher at current school.

For 4 main reasons:

1. Location - Current school is right next to my work, which is roughly 40 minutes from my house. Translation: commuting with a toddler. No fun for either of us, and unnecessary exposure to road hazards for her. (But really, just plain selfishly? I used to enjoy my commute. My coffee, my NPR - it was my me time. Currently, I spend a good half the time explaining why I cannot turn around and find the shoe or sippy she just threw on the floor.) New school is 8 minutes from my house.
2. Schedule - Our first school (attached to Husband's job of the previous few years) gave us a Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday schedule. My parents had her on Mondays & Fridays. I loved the compartmentalization. It was like a mini-week for our family of 3. Then the extended family might do something together on Fridays. Current school made us do Monday/Wednesday/Friday. It has its benefits, but none outweigh the fact that none of us ever seems to know where we're going when - least of all the little 2 year old in the mix! New school? They said I could pick my days & seemed unable to fathom why the other school wouldn't allow it.
3. Professionalism - I love the teachers we've had at current school. Management leaves something to be desired. They seem to forget when it's time to transition a child to the next level. Therefore, my daughter, who talks like a 3 year old, was in a room with 18 month old's till well past her 2nd birthday. I finally had to jump up & down on one foot to get the director to notice. And when they did transition her? They did it sort of out of the blue, and also never bothered to tell me that I'd have to drop her off in a still different room from the one she was moving to. Also!? The staff doesn't have a uniform. Sounds like a dumb complaint, but I like knowing easily who works there. I also like my daughter to see women dressed professionally, which their dress code falls short of. New school - logo'ed polos & khakis - is that so hard?
4. PS - the proverbial icing on the cake. With all the negatives, we just kept chugging along, thinking change would be harder than maintaining the status quo. Then there were a couple of "incidents" - just things I heard from other parents. Things about teachers - not terrible things. But not warm fuzzy things. So, I had an "if not now, when" moment.

So, there you have it. The timing couldn't really be much worse. The changes will be good for all of us in the end. But facing 3 new routines at once is .. a little daunting. I know it will pass. Knowing that doesn't blow my funk away. Yoga does. An extra splash of wine and/or an extra spoon of frozen yogurt do. And, naturally, sweet times with my husband & daughter do.

Oh, PPS - that picture of us is from Christmas last year. "Things" had been the same for nearly a year & a half at the point. I just realized I was no more or less happy then. Which is to say - very happy. So, there's that.

How do you deal with change?

Truth & Lies

So, before you become a parent, parents tell you many things.

Some of them seem obvious, and you wonder why they even bother to tell you. Like how much you'll love your kids and how tired you'll be. (But then you have the kids and realize that on both counts, no - you really couldn't even imagine.)

Some of them seem like BS, but turn out to be true. Others seem like BS, and turn out to be BS.

Here are a few examples (re)learned today:

1. Giving toddlers choices can work.

• TRUTH
• This one seemed like BS. Duh, the toddler will choose their way every time. Just like I would. BUT - one must be crafty. After all, one is the adult. Not - "Do you want to eat your green beans or not?" Rather - "Do you want to eat green beans or carrots?"
• Witness - This girl was dirty after running around "ChuckECheese's house" for 2 hours.

So, after dinner tonight, I told my daughter it was time for she & mommy to take a shower. She didn't wanna. In fact, she wanted to scream really loudly in my ear & pull my hair. I calmly asked if she'd like to take a shower or a bath. I did this mainly to kill time, not out of any real hope of success. BUT? It worked. She stopped pulling, stopped screaming, and answered "a bath." So, she took a bath, and I took a shower. (They're adjoining, but Daddy also watched to make sure she didn't drown.)

2. You won't want to laugh when it's your kid.

• LIE
• A friend or cousin said this to me one time, when I had to leave the room to keep from laughing at something terribly naughty their kid was doing. I had to do this literally ALL THE TIME. I apologized and told them I worried what I'd do when I had kids. Their response put my mind ease. Falsely.
• Witness - bath time tonight (see above). Before my serenity breakthrough, I was biting my lip to keep from laughing, even as I was gripping my hair at the roots to keep from losing it.

And, once we finally got her into bed, I laid next to her till she fell asleep. In addition to a litany of other toddler insanity, I heard - "Oh, a booger. I like to eat boogers. Mmmm ... yummy!" accompanied by smacking of lips. Yep, I let my kid eat a booger. But, doggoneit, she didn't get a rise out of me! And once again, I had to bit my lip to keep from laughing hysterically.

3. ChuckECheese is awesome.

• TRUTH AND LIE
• Okay, not everyone told me that. But some variation thereof. Like how much you enjoy things you would never dream of and so on.
• It was totally awesome to see the absolute delight in my daughter's eyes while we ran around and played games. Her exuberance at ChuckE's entrance & performance were so cute. It was awesome to help our neighbors celebrate their son's 5th birthday.
• BUT? The actual staggering toward the end, as though drunk on pizza, cake and flashing lights - not awesome. Slightly terrifying, actually. The fact that she was all whacked out on crazy balls the rest of the afternoon & evening - exhausting and (again) pretty scary. 

I mean, she's two & all, but she was crazy even for her. I mean, what does that place do to kids' brains? Or my brain for that matter? I feel like I have a hangover. I'm all nauseous and hungry at the same time. I have a headache, and I hurt all over. Glad we went, but I'd be even more glad if we never go again!

PS - believe it or not - their pizza's pretty good. They put it on this bubbled pan that keeps the crust crispy. (Feel like I need to give them a shout out, because who knows - maybe I just have a toddler, and tonight's craziness has nothing to do with their crack-like facility.)

Summer Nights // Movie Night

The theater? We're not ready. I mentioned this recently to explain why I won't see the much anticipated & already beloved Brave for many moons to come.

However, I realized anew this evening - we are not ready for the theater.

Tonight marks movie #3 that we are half-way through.

Let's recap:

1. A few months back - Snow White - too scary. (Yes, vanity is terribly scary. Let's all remember that.) We made it to her first night in the Dwarfs' cottage.






2. A couple weeks ago - Cars - too esoteric. Past the opening high-paced scenes of races & such other flashiness, it drops into cautionary tale against egotism. We made it till McQueen learns that Doc won 3 Piston Cups.



3. Tonight - Follow That Bird - Okay, first of all? Not my first choice. My plan was to finish Cars and eat a pizza.
But we had no pizza, and it turns out the AppleTV was downstairs (which, I learned after getting my lovely & our makeshift dinner of hummus etc UPstairs) ... so Netflix!
However ... we were quite enjoying the 27 year old Sesame big-screen foray, when I decided we should get ready for bed & finish the movie downstairs. (Love you, technology!)
BUT? Child associates bed routine with Dora or Diego. So, there you have it. Big Bird had just escaped Ms. Finch disguised as a haystack when we lost him.
But my favorite part was, of course, Waylon Jennings. (And if you didn't know that, do you even know me at all?)



Spoiler Alert!
I know how each of these movies ends --
1. Snow White ignores the Dwarfs' good advice and any modicum of common sense and eats the apple from the totally creepy looking old woman, falls into a death-like sleep, wakes at the kiss of her one true love, and lives happily ever after. (Oh, and the evil queen gets chased off a cliff to her death, which is why I think we'll wait a few years to finish it! PS - anybody else think it's weird that this woman obsessed with her beauty disguises herself as a hideous beggar?)
2. Lightening McQueen learns the value of true friendship. I'm also guessing that at some point Doc had to learn a similar lesson.
3. Big Bird gets back to Sesame Street. (I really hope Waylon makes another appearance. I seriously teared up. Click the link above. Seriously.)

I don't mind at all watching half a movie at my house. But (again - if you know me at all?) not gonna pay for 2 adults & 1 kid to go to the theater, get even a small snack ... then stay for half.
Not. Gonna. Do it.

Any movie suggestions to wile away some hot summer hours with a 2.25 year-old?

Tale as Old as Time

I haven't seen Brave yet.
I want to, but I won't till it comes out at least on RedBox, and probably not till Netflix. But that's just because my daughter is 2. I will not brave the theater with her for some time to come. (See what I did there?)We will not use a date-night for a family flick either.

So ... excited but willing to wait.

Excited why?
Because I love kick-ass girls, obviously. I also love how many little boys I know who are loving this kick-ass Merida.

But I don't get people thinking the kick-ass heroine is new.

Before they lowered the neckline on her dress and started merchandising her along-side my much maligned Cinderella, Belle kicked ass.

Kicked ass why?

1. Loves to read.
2. Cares not a lick if the townspeople think she's odd.
3. Repeatedly turns down a marriage proposal from "the handsomest man in town," because he's "a brainless brute," --- who does not respect her interests and only wants her for her looks.
4. Rescues her father from the Beast by offering to stay in his place.
5. She was pretty inept at fighting those wolves, but she did try.
6. Falls in love with the Beast despite his "monstrous form" because of what's on the inside.

Beauty and the Beast came out in 1991. I was 14. It was the last Disney movie I loved. Whether that relates to my age or the movies ... 

Belle is a heroine, a protagonist. She is not a passive part in her own story. 

Cinderella, Snow White, and Aurora -- they all know how to work hard and stay sweet and talk to animals, but they just wait around for a handsome dude to make their lives better. 

Belle takes action. Belle falls in love over time, with a person - not a face.

The movie scared my daughter a little, so we don't watch it. But when I read our Little Golden Book version several times per week, we take turns singing the song - she's amazingly good, by the way!
She knows that "Gaston is not nice." She knows when the Beast is sad and hurt, and she feels badly for him and shows no fear of his appearance. I'm not sure she knows that the handsome prince on the last page was the Beast all along. But she will.

I don't recall Belle directly inspiring me in 1991. Looking back, I do see that while I may have strayed, I never settled.

I hope my daughter will be able to say the same. I hope she'll know the transformative power of love.

I hope marketers don't lower Merida's neckline in the years to come.

Now Hear This

"Now here or Nowhere."
-- said my yoga teacher on Thursday

A little cheesy. But those yoga quotes often are.
What matters is that they resonate.
And this one did.

I don't have the world's easiest time staying in the moment.
The three times I really have - twice snorkeling, and during my daughter's birth.

But I'm doing better. I don't get to spend as much time with my daughter as I'd like. So it's important to me (and for her!) that I'm present in those moments.

I'm pretty solid on no technology getting between us. (Well, except needing to take especially adorable pictures & email or post them!)

But my mind does wander.
There's a lot on my plate. I'm kind of a big deal. {**chortle**}

This new little mantra is a nice quick one -

• Pops in my head when I find it wandering.
• Reminds me that those veggies for tomorrow's salad can roast later; block towers should NOT wait.
• Gives me absolute confidence that a pedicure is THE most important thing happening on a given afternoon.

• It is less successful in helping me cope with elbows to the boob at bedtime.

As to that yoga class? I think it may have nearly killed me, but I wouldn't trade it.
I really was just there. 
This new studio? Rocks.
They push me like I would never push myself. But in an awesome, empowering way.
Sure, I felt like someone beat the living crap out of me the next day, but at the time? I kicked ass.


I did 2 things I haven't done for years.


This:

And this:

When I am in motion - I am now here.


When I am still ---- still working on it.


Now here or Nowhere.

Belated

Sunday was Mothers Day.
For that occasion, I intended to add my voice to the host celebrating motherhood.

Monday, my grandma would have been 80.
For that occasion, I intended to write up some of my favorite memories of her.

On both occasions, I failed in my intentions. Something else came up. Sunday, I believe that something was Storage Wars. Monday, I know that something was falling asleep next to my daughter while protecting her from a big, bad thunderstorm.

At any rate, I attempt now - to multitask. It isn't a stretch. After all, most often, when I think of my grandma now, it's in the context of wishing she could be here to see my daughter. Or, wishing my daughter could meet my grandma.

Here are the things I think my daughter would love most about my grandma:

• Her smile. It was tremendous. Radiant. Infectious. I don't remember ever being sad around my grandma.  Sorry, I have no pictures to share online - they're all tucked in old albums. :)
• Her tolerance. Throughout her life, no one was unwelcome. No, not just that - everyone was welcome. My grandma was born & raised, lived & died in rural Nebraska, with very little exposure to people not of European descent. Yet, she never seemed to have one thought prejudging anyone.
• Her strength. My grandma lived with severe arthritis her whole life. She survived breast cancer. She lived her last several years with Alzheimer's Disease. So much for one woman. She could have become bitter. But she never did. I never once heard her complain. Her life was beautiful. 
• Her love. My daughter does know my grandpa. If she gets to know him long enough, she'll know how much he & my grandma loved each other. Their love is and was an inspiration to me, and (I can only assume) to everyone who knew them.

My best memories of my grandma happened around their kitchen table. When my brother & I were younger, we'd stay at their farm for weekends or sometimes a week over summer or Christmas break. We'd stay up past our bedtimes, drink too much pop (that's Nebraska for soda), eat too much junk, and play cards - lots of cards. Lots. 

Years later, I stayed with grandma & grandpa while I worked on the 2000 campaign, just across the river in Iowa. We had more times around the kitchen table. This time, I got to have my very own beer. We didn't play cards. We just chatted. And that's how I know. 

I know that even the Alzheimer's didn't change who she was. She still smiled. She was tolerant & strong. And she loved. And she is loved.

She would love my daughter. And my daughter would love her.

Here are the things I think my grandma would love most about her great-granddaughter:

• Her smile. It too is infectious. It gets you even when you're trying to tell her to stop doing what she thinks is so funny. Because it's usually funny. Also, I think Grandma would say out loud what I know my mom thinks -- "Serves you right. You were always an ornery little thing."
• Her imagination. My daughter can have full conversations with non-humans. Not just the dog, or a dolly or a stuffed animal. But her sippy cups. Bugs. Or the sun. -- "No, no, sun! Get outta my eyes!"
• Her smarts. My daughter charms everyone she meets my using complete sentences in that little girl voice. -- Most commonly, "I need to watch Diego." (She has not quite mastered "need" v. "want" - but then, neither have I.)
• Her love. She loves me, her daddy, her doggie. Unconditionally. When I loose my temper just a little? (In the latter half of an hour bedtime, for example.) All's forgiven. When daddy can't retrieve a balloon that's already floated well above the house? He's still her hero. When the dog knocks her on her butt with his rudder of a tail? He still gets kisses big enough to leave her a mouthful of fur. She loves my mom, my dad, her teachers, her cousins, my grandpa.

My best memories of my daughter are happening now. (Not right now. She's in bed, and I'm blogging. Silly.) 

I hope that she will always be who she is. That nothing will change her smile, her imagination, or her smarts. I hope that she will always love. I know that she will always be loved.

She would love my grandma. And my grandma would love her.

Here are some people whose love they share. To name a few. :)

Stolen Moments

This morning - I should have left for work a good 30 minutes earlier than I did.
This is the norm.
Normally, I'm just running around like the proverbial chicken sans head.
This morning? I had everything ready.
Yet, instead of walking out that door (relatively) on time, I opted to sit down and eat breakfast at the table with my daughter. (The norm is both of us eating in the car.)
It was lovely. Lovely, I say!

Earlier this week, I saw a quote on good-ole Pinterest --




I love it. I didn't need her to tell me, but I did need her to sum of my thoughts exactly.

So, I got to work a little later than I should. (As it happened, I knew there were no special responsibilities or meetings to attend.)

I got my work done in a timely fashion. I even went above & beyond in a some ways.
 I thought about just going straight home & getting an early start on dinner. But dinner was leftovers.
So ... go home & just play?
Sure ... but I bet you know as well as I do - once you get home, you find some task or chore that you should do - instead of just enjoying some time with your kiddo.
So ... the park? the library?

When I got to her school, she was hot & sweaty from the playground, and it was hot & sweaty outside. So, the library it was. She goes with my parents at least once a week and loves it. It's walking distance from their house and not far from my work. I considered calling them, but I was selfish - I wanted my baby all to myself.

She was a hoot. A little louder than the library probably merits. We looked under tables & in baskets, but we kept misplacing her inside voice.

Oh, well - if you're having this much fun, who cares?

My daughter's birth story

I wrote this a few weeks after my daughter was born. Nearly 2 years ago!!! 1. where does the time go? 2. I had to make very few changes. I still feel so much the same. Wonder wonder of motherhood!

March 31^st  2010 - I had a follow-up with my OB. The nurse asked me if I was having any contractions or Braxton-Hicks. I said no. Then she asked me more questions – was my belly getting tight & hard like a basketball? Did I have intermittent back pain? Did I have pressure across the bottom of my abdomen? To each question, I answered “yes.” And to each “yes,” she responded: “that’s a contraction.” The doctor asked whether I wanted an exam to see how far dilated I was. I opted out, knowing that it didn’t really tell anything about how soon my daughter would arrive. I went home under the impression that I’d been having Braxton-Hicks contractions and not knowing it. I chalked this up to having expected worse pain based on others’ accounts.

I got home and explained to Barry about the contractions. We both laughed. Around 5 or 5:30, I noticed that the contractions were more frequent than previous and assumed I was just more mindful of them. We watched some TV and hung out. Then, around 7 or 8, I noticed that these feelings were more or less 12 minutes apart. I had really wanted not to deliver on my due date. I thought my daughter should not be an April Fools’ baby! I decided I was not in labor. I told my husband to go ahead and play his game on line, and that I was going to bed and assumed it would all go away by morning and that we’d have her over the weekend. I lay in bed from 9 to 11, jumping up about every 5 minutes to have a contraction, which I continued to take as GI distress. Finally, around 11, I could deny it no longer. I’d been having regular contractions for hours. In my head, I forgot about 5 to 9, and thought I’d been in labor since 9. Therefore, I thought I had hours & hours more to go. Barry called our doula and the doctors’ office, telling both we didn’t need them just yet. For about an hour, my husband & I handled the contractions together – except by that point I was in a rhythm and really most comfortable sitting on the toilet during the contraction. I alternated that with bending over either the bed or the bathroom counter. Yoga was so much a part of my life at this point, that I was doing the breathing without having to really tell myself to.

At midnight, we decided Barry should get some rest --- it was going to be a long day and one of us should be rested. I continued to have regular contractions, about 5 minutes apart and increasing in intensity. At 2:30, I woke up, because I wanted support through the contractions. However, I was so “in my zone,” that I kept basically pushing him away to have them solo! He prepped our bags and made some preparations around the house for our departure. We called our doula and the hospital to tell them we were on our way around 4:30.

I settled into our Honda Pilot backwards & managed to strap in – not sure what would have happened in a collision! As we went over the first bump, my water broke – big time! It continued to leak the whole way to the hospital.

When we arrived, I sent Barry ahead to the check-in, while I went to the bathroom right inside to have another contraction! The nurse was ready for me when I got in. She was wonderful! She had clearly seen her share of births and was very familiar with and respectful of the items in my birth preferences. She did an exam and asked, “How long were you in labor at home?” I said only since 9; she seemed a little disbelieving and went on to say that I was almost ready to push. I sort of didn’t believe that! 

The weirdest thing was how I just wanted to be on the toilet. At this point, our doula talked me through the contractions. I’d done well at home with keeping the rest of my body relaxed, and Barry had reminded me to keep my exhale-hums in low tones. I was no longer doing those things! Our doula reminded me to and also directed my focus. She also gave Barry a break! The nurse did another exam, and she said she could feel the baby's head. She paged the desk to ask if the midwife, Evelyn, was there yet. She told me in the meantime that if Evelyn didn’t get in the room in a few minutes that I could go ahead and push. Evelyn was there and came right in. She asked for the bar to be removed and had me lay back. I was a bit surprised but it actually felt good at this point to recline. Our doula and nurse held my legs back into a squat-like position. Barry was right by my head and swabbing my face with a cool damp cloth. They told me I could push, and I think I said I didn’t remember how! I also remember thinking, “fine. I’ll push, but a baby is not going to come out of me!” I tried once and didn’t feel like I’d done it right. I tried again and felt like I knew what to do. I pushed hard, and Evelyn said the head was out. (I remember that I had wanted to feel her head as she crowned, but it all happened so fast that I didn’t even think of it!) I pushed again, and Evelyn said she was out. I was so relieved. I heard her crying, but it was almost through a fog. I still almost didn’t believe it! Then they placed her on my belly. It was a strange sensation: the same weight but clearly different. I had asked for skin-to-skin contact; it had all happened so fast that I was still wearing my nightgown! We got it off pretty quickly, and it was just a wonderful feeling. They didn’t even wipe her off. It was the most natural, amazing experience.

As the two of us lay there, Barry talked quietly to us and told me he loved me and was so proud of me. Our daughter was so beautiful from the first moment. Thanks to the quick delivery, she had a perfectly shaped head!

Every moment was a wonder. Every moment since has been an amazing learning experience.

We didn’t know either how hard or how wonderful parenthood would be. Although I feel like I’d tried to prepare for parenthood as I had for birth, I also feel like I was not nearly so well prepared. I’ve mused since about why that is. I think it’s for multiple reasons. 1. With the birth, I was able to get totally out of my head & simply trust my body. In parenthood, you have to consider long-term consequences. In modern society, our instincts don’t always mesh with reality! 2. Ignorance is bliss. I almost feel like denying I was in labor for so long helped me get through it with such flying colors! 3. The birth lasted a finite amount of time. I always knew I could get through it because, no matter what, there was a defined ending. Parenthood has no end. It almost seems like every day the enormity of the enterprise grows in my eyes! 4. My love for my daughter has no end. Everyone tells you that you don’t know how much you’ll love your children until you have them. In that sense, you’re sort of prepared. BUT, it’s true – you love them so much more than you ever thought possible, and there’s really no way to be prepared for it!

All in all – you care more than you ever have before in life, and you’re less sure of yourself than ever before … even without the hormones & sleep deprivation!

I! LOVE! YOU!

This is the new thing to say at our house. I already can't remember who started it. It wasn't me. Either my Hubben or my Munchkin, pointed emphatically at the other while saying the nightly "I love you." Then they went back & forth saying it and pointing, each time more emphatically than the last. Sometimes I get to play. Sometimes the dog even gets love.

It's freaking adorable.

Today, as we were getting ready to leave school, I was holding my little joy-bundle. She pointed at teacher #1 and did it. As you can imagine, the teachers nearly died. Then, teacher #2 got the same treatment.

Here's how I know I'm meant to be a working mom: there was not one instant of jealousy. Not one instant. I was so happy. So happy that my daughter is happy at her new school. That she's comfortable enough with her world to bond with others. That she's surrounded by sweet ladies who love her back.

But .. how could they not?

The Sun's still there (figuratively AND literally)

I'd just finished giving my Mom a laundry list of why my mood was foul, when I looked up in the sky and saw a thick cloud cover.

"And I can't even see the  sun!" I wailed.

"But you know it's still there," she responded.

Yes, I do know. I guess that's why I keep getting up & going to work - even when my week presents a perfect storm to obscure the sun.

                      

Later that day - there it was. The sun. I noticed it when I got a glimpse of a window or caught a moment of fresh air. Then, miracle of miracles, the workday was not only manageable, but I was able to knock off early.

I practically skipped to my car. My Mom, my daughter & I walked to the library. That sounds lame, right? But it was AWESOME. She literally raced into the children's area, yelling "books!" My parents take her all the time, so she ran around showing me all the cool things - the train, the puzzles, the cushion circle, the computers - oh, the computers! Then we played some serious Dora bingo.

After all that excitement, would you believe there was more?! There's a little park behind the library! It's a little boardwalk over a small pond. My daughter was en fuego! We walked out to a little gazebo, and this turtle swam over looking for a handout. 

"Oh, hey buddy! Sorry, buddy! Adios, tortuga!!"

Pretty much anything we said or did, we got immediately back from her. Right down to crossing her legs - a little difficult with her little munchkin thighs & total hilarity.

I wasn't the only (um..) role model either. There's a series of painted fiberglass turtles, and the library has one. She even got down and imitated their tortuga.

                            

For the finale? There was a totally awesome little playground. I may or may not have played on the equipment more than my daughter.

Eventually, we had to go back, rejoin our menfolk, etc & so forth.

The literal sun was shining. The sun had figuratively returned to my little world in full force. I hadn't to wait long to see it again really.

My wish for me - that my daughter will feel half as lucky to have me as I do to have my mom.

My wish for all - that you always have someone to remind that the sun is there, even when you can't see it. And someone to help you find it.

Don't ever let the clouds fool you!

Quantum Angst

"I can't decide what I want. Will you split these two things with me?"


I can't tell you how many times I've asked this of a fellow diner at a restaurant. Always someone I'm with, swear! I become infinitely more fond of anyone who says yes. My husband used to say yes regularly till he had me hooked; now I really have to beg.

Entrees are divisible. Circumstances are not. 

I can have half an omelet and half a French Toast.

My daughter cannot simultaneously have her shoes on and have her shoes off. Yet, time after time lately, this seems to be exactly what she wants. Or, to simultaneously have her sandals on and her boots on.

I cannot, just for example, have half an only child and half a family of four.
(Disclaimer: for the purposes of this discussion, it matters not at all that said husband wants an only child. So, if he happens to read this, we need not have that discussion again ... right now.)


I am quite sure that many parents have the same internal debate after their first child that I am having now.

Me: "She should have a little brother/sister."

Myself: "She's great just the way she is, and we're all happy."

I: "But maybe down the road, you & she will wish you had."

Me: "Well, maybe if we do, we'll wish we hadn't."

Myself: "You're not getting any younger, maybe you should just consider yourself lucky that you had one wildly healthy child."

I: "40's the new 30, and I'm ONLY THIRTY-FIVE!!!!"

And so on. ad nauseum.

Here's the thing. What I want. What I really want. Is both. At the same time.

This is not unique to the only child v. second child debate. This is my life.

I do not actually understand quantum mechanics. What I sort of get is that a subatomic particle cannot simultaneously be in two physical states at one time.

I'm just a Sci-Fi nerd with some angst. I see it beginning in my daughter on a smaller scale. I call it quantum angst.

We can't be the only ones who wants it both ways? Or can we?