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“I’m glad I don’t have a little brother.”

14 Jul

I never thought of myself as a “kid person.” I didn’t grow up dreaming of having babies and never really had plans about parenthood. I just existed. I wasn’t aware that at the time I was saying I wasn’t going to have kids yet (or soon), there was already a Bean on the way.

I guess then, I’m somewhat guilty for feeling the way Nia’s little friend did when she stayed with us. “I’m glad I don’t have a little brother,” she innocently said, not really understanding the hurt or feelings it cause. He had just been trying to hang out with them, which came across as pestering to them. Not being used to having a sibling around, that was understandably too much for the friend to handle.

I’m sure there are times when that thought may cross Nia’s mind too. What would life be like for her if she didn’t have Nate? I’ve even thought about it. What if we only had one? And, on the flip side, what if we had more children than Nia and Nate?

Here’s what I know:

  • I am so very thankful and complete to have both of our surprise blessings and adventure-makers in my life. Thinking of one without the other just doesn’t make sense and the thought only lasts for a second because it doesn’t matter. We have a big sister and a little brother and that’s all there is to it – and it’s pretty great.
  • Nia is glad to have a little brother – and he’s so lucky to have her. She just comforted him after he found out his cool red lace baseball cleats and special Dodgers t-ball shirt he forgot at summer camp are missing. When she saw his heartache, she sat next to him on the couch and rubbed his back as he softly cried. Later, as I was tucking her in, she said, “I feel really bad for Nate.”
  • Our little brother has informed he wants to be a big brother too. Asked as if we were not meeting production schedules or something, “When are you going to have another baby? I want a little brother.”

We told him that was very sweet of him but we have no plans to have another baby. Besides, we noted, the baby may be a little sister and who’s going to share a room with the baby?

“I will,” confirmed Nate. “If it’s a baby brother.”

I sure am glad we have our little brother.

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Five Minutes of “Small Talk” with Bean

9 Jul

Our conversation only lasted for about five minutes but Nia sure did cover a range of thoughtful and complex topics.

The bulk of the chat revolved around an experience she had a camp.

“When we were at the pool, there was a man with one leg there. One of the boys in my group was staring and making a big deal about it. As the man was taking off his leg to get in the pool the boy said ‘I can’t watch!’ like it was gross to him. I told him he should stop staring and saying that because it was disrespectful.”

I told Nia I was proud of her for trying to teach the right thing and explained that many kids – heck, even adults – will stare because they aren’t sure how to react when someone isn’t just like them. I told her one of our friends or family members could have something that makes them different/special – or even us – and how would we feel. She remembered the time we saw a man with no arms below the elbows and how he was still carrying snacks and a drink and had his little girl on his lap. She said, “It was amazing all that he was doing.”

From there, the topic of praying came up because we talked about praying for people to be ok and treat others kindly. She told me she thought it was nice to pray for others and not herself. She said, “I already pray that no catastrophes will happen to the world again because I don’t want people to get hurt or die. When I am scared that a tornado may come, I pray quietly and then I feel calm because it feels like we will be ok. I never pray for toys.”

I wonder if she prays for piano lessons though because that was the next topic. “Did you call about me getting piano lessons today?” I told her I sent an email with questions. “Did you send that email during work? Is that ok to do? You used to be able to do that at your old job. Do you remember when I came to your old work and sat behind you? I drew that picture for Tracy. I wonder if Tracy will always keep that.” I told her I wasn’t sure and that I got to talk to Tracy today. That made Nia happy.

“What about Ashley and Erika?”

“Yes,” I told her, “I still talk to them. In fact, those girls and mommy’s friends Marcy and Courtney are planning to come and visit us at the end of the month.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Girl stuff – for 21 years and up.”

“You could go to the movies. You could go see Madagascar 3 or Brave. I think that’s PG-13.”

Five minutes of chatting that I will always cherish. I hope my words will stay with Nia, “You have such a caring and considerate heart, Bean. Please don’t ever change it. Keep it safe.”

“Also, my age means I can see R-rated movies too.”

Recital Night Notes

12 Jun

After three years of being an unofficial dance mom, you’d think I’d have the tricks for a double recital (about 8 hours in performance mode) down a little better. These are some of my notes from this year to help me for next:

  • Many moms use clothing racks to wheel all their child’s costumes and keep them crisp and easy to sort through during the quick changes. I use one hanger. One hanger for four costumes, a t-shirt and shorts. I’m thinking about getting a rack if Nia’s costume supply grows. Also, if for nothing else, to reserve our spot in the dressing room. Which brings me to the next thing …
  • Racks are the boss. I had Nia’s costumes and accessories all nicely waiting in a small spot near her other dancing buds. I got there earlier than half the room to make sure I’d have a space because I stress about this. I get anxious. (I’m weird about crowds and having an area to work.) Well, a mom who was armed with a rack big enough for three girls’ fancies parked right in front of Nia’s things. I got a little flustered but handled it as “me” as I could. “Um, excuse me. Let me just grab our things … (mumble) that were already here and ready to go …” I probably still won’t get a rack but even if I did, I wouldn’t use it to shove others around.
  • I missed the memo about good snack ideas. Pringles seem to be the chip of choice. I’m thinking it has to do with the tube to prevent crumbs during transit and dressing turmoil. Nia didn’t seem to mind that she was pretty much the only one without the tube of salty crunchies. After all, I couldn’t find Pringles dill pickle chips. I just dumped the dill pickle chips I did have in a plastic container. Voilá. My version of the tube. I will remember grapes and cheese squares next year though. Chippies make for a great mood changer treat but healthy is best!
  • Kind of in line with moods, baby wipes are a must next year for erasing makeup smudges after the very tired performer understandably gets emotional because “I need more lipstick!” or “People are stepping on my blanket!” or “My feet hurt!” (Nia held it together without tears but I want to be prepared.) The outbursts I did witness are quite comical to me because they are usually over nothing and the drama is so overboard only the Coast Guard with a helicopter rope could rescue it from sinking. Or maybe chips …
  • I need to remember slippers and a robe or a wrap to help with Nia’s privacy concerns and comfort.
  • For goodness sakes mom (me) remember the dang body spray glitter! All the girls sparkle with it and it seems like the amount of glitter on both mom and daughter the next morning is directly related to amount of fun had the night before.
  • Bring the makeup remover with us so Nia doesn’t look like an underage college student after a night of hitting bars that don’t card. Also, to help keep her eyes from swelling shut due to sensitivity to the stuff that shouldn’t be on her face yet. Remove it ASAP!
  • This one I don’t really have to remind myself about but I want to always remember that in the craziness of the night, keep my smile and let the happy tears fall, cherishing these years of watching her grow into a young lady. I love being able to give her special one-on-one attention and praise. I want to always be her biggest fan and source of encouragement – and, of course, ready with her emergency dance chips.

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Restroom Stall Life Lessons

6 Jun

“Mommy, someone wrote ‘I hate myself’ in the restroom stall at camp. Why would they write that – and why would they write it on the stall?”

Such heavy questions weighed on me as I tucked Nia in and began her usual bedtime comfort ritual.

I tried my best to explain that sometimes people get really sad and they let those sad feelings change how they see themselves and how others see them. It was their way of letting out their sadness.

“That’s not good, but why write that on the stall?”

“When people are really sad like that they don’t always think clearly or worry about doing the right thing.”

I told her that I hoped she never feels that way and to always remember that her family loves her and is here for her – no matter if we argue or if things don’t seem to be going her way. She seemed happy with that and I was able to continue on with the night-night necessities of prayers, the classical music CD, legs rubbed and, the one thing I would love for Bean to always do before falling asleep each night, thoughts about all the happy things that happened that day or are ahead.

She rests her innocent heart so much better by focusing her mind on something positive and peaceful. It also gives me a chance to hear what made her happy during the day or what she’s looking forward to that week. Sometimes, we have some really good conversations during this time – me sitting next to a snuggled Bean, talking quietly in her dark, rainbow night-light room.

I hope if she ever has feelings for a restroom stall, she’ll remember our “happy things” time and talk with me instead.

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Lost in Translation

1 Jun

This isn’t a post about the health politics surrounding the packaged and bottled temptations whose fate is determined by the small fingers holding a few dollars and punching a letter/number button combination. It’s obvious by this post that I don’t forbid my children from standing on the other side of those temptations and waiting in anticipation for the coil to force their selection to them.

However, I only give my kids the resources to do this once a week at camp – on Fridays. Also, I’ve told them not to push the button that would release the caffeine to them. I’ve guided them toward healthier (because nothing is really healthy in there) choices but I let them decide for themselves. I do check up on them though. What did they enjoy? Tonight’s conversation really pushed my giggle button but I made like a defective machine and kept my laugh trapped to not embarrass Nate.

Me: “What did you pick from the vending machine at camp today?”

Nia: “Fruit punch, a cinnamon roll and some candy for my friend.” (I love that she shared her money but I hope her friend’s mom isn’t anti-snack machine. Oh boy.)

Me: “Nate, what did get from the vending machine?”

Nate: “Vending machine? Is that Spanish for snack machine?”

He was so serious and curious. What is this “vending machine” you speak of? Although, part of me wonders if he was just distracting me from what he did buy – a Powerade, a doughnut and hot fries. Glad I only give them money on Friday. I may have to cut it down to $2 … and a Spanish lesson.

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Sharing Her Wealth

26 May

Dragon Dollars: tokens that praise students for being ready, respectful and responsible. Students are awarded them from any teacher during the school day for doing something that falls in line with those three school character traits.

Did you help another student pick up some papers she dropped? Dragon Dollar. Did you turn your complete homework project in on time? Dragon Dollar. Were you following the rules in the hallway? Dragon Dollar.

Each week, the school would offer a store where students could cash in their well-earned paper Dragons for passes to skip a homework assignment, wear sunglasses, get an ice cream treat or bring a critter (stuffed animal) to school. Students could also save up for special events. Nate used some for ice cream and then 40 to attend his principal’s birthday bash. He was so excited for that. Then, there was Nia. She saved hers – wanting to make sure she’d have enough for the big celebration and raffle at the end of the year.

Nia earned more than 100 dollars over her Third Grade days. She was able to buy the $50 ticket to the Luau and a $50 ticket for the raffle. She was so proud and happy to be one of the few in her class who could afford to buy both.

When the day came, she made her purchases and then saw that one of her classmates was very sad when he learned he didn’t have enough for the luau or raffle. She knew what she had leftover wasn’t going to give him enough for those but, instead of spending her surplus on some extra swag for herself, she gave them to her friend. She says she doesn’t know what he “bought” with them, only that he was happy and thankful.

I was moved by what she did but I wanted to know more. Would she be so giving to someone who wasn’t her friend? Why didn’t the boy have enough Dragons? Did he not follow the rules like she did?

She told me she wouldn’t want to give them to someone who was mean to her. I told her I can understand that but it’s best to always be kind to everyone. She didn’t love this idea because she was thinking about one girl in particular who is mean to her and didn’t want to reward her for that. I can understand that and part of me agrees with her, but I want to teach her to be giving without judgement or preference – something many adults, even myself, find difficult at times.

She explained that the boy behaved, he just always spent his dollars each week, never saving them. This kind of ties in with the giving without judging view. A lot of people feel they shouldn’t give their dollars to someone who isn’t as careful with theirs. She didn’t look at it that way. She saw a friend who was sad and wanted to help.

I want her to always have the giving heart she has, but I also don’t want her to be a pushover. Difficult to teach and live out. I am so proud of her though – for saving her well-deserved dollars and for sharing without someone prompting her. That’s a great start.

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My First Mother’s Day

13 May

I celebrated my first Mother’s Day two Sundays after Nia was born. Andrew couldn’t be with us that day but he made sure to send his two girls a sweet surprise. While in Iraq, before computers and phones were available for soldiers, Andrew found a way to order me my favorite flowers (daisies) and Bean a dog stuffed animal. He had them delivered to our home right on time for Mother’s Day and it made me feel loved, appreciated and connected to him even though we were so far apart and he hadn’t even met our daughter yet.

I found a picture that shows his gifts to us. The dog watched over her on top of her bassinet and the flowers dressed up the table next to her, near the couch where I sat:

Baby Bean with Doggy on her Bassinet

Bean still keeps the doggy close. His nose is worn and he shows her years of hugs and travels. She takes him with her on trips, tucking him in her pillow case and feeling comforted as soon as she snuggles him. She knows that “soldier daddy” got him for her and she cherishes that so sweetly. I know there will be a time when he will be moved to a shelf and then a keepsake box, but right now, nine Mother’s Days later, her special doggy is resting at the top of her bed as she sleeps – watching over her like he did as a baby.

Snuggles Special Doggy

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Mom “Types”

13 May

Hey, ma. You love your kid, right? You care about whether your child is sad, sick, hungry, happy, well-behaved, mannerly, respectful, treated right by others … right? I know there are trying times, but your love and protection is always there. I think that’s swell and I want you to know it.

I’ve read a few blog posts over the last few months that talk about mom “types” and they’re bringing me down. It comes to my mind even more after all the TIME magazine cover hubbub about “attachment parenting.” I’ve also heard a lot about “helicopter moms” and of course there’s always the ever-present and anger-causing divide between “working moms” and “stay-at-home moms.”

  • This blog post talks about “judgmental moms” then goes on to judge other moms by asking at the end, “Which parent type do you not like?”
  • This blog post labels all the different moms seen at the school – some are spoken highly of, some are questioned.
  • This one goes so far to talk about how much she doesn’t like moms who cut their children’s food in fun shapes but then concludes that she doesn’t like when other moms judge her.

Why are we so mean to each other? Why do we group people like this? Because it helps us relate in some way? To know our place? I can understand that there will be other people we don’t get along with or whose company we don’t necessarily enjoy, but are these moms endangering their children’s lives in some way? Are they demeaning, neglectful or abusive? Is she killing her child’s spirit? If that’s the case, I feel it’s a different thing because then she is hurting her child, not just offending others with her mom style. It seems to me the acts that the labels describe are not harmful to their children, just their mom esteem.

I am guilty of having a gut reaction to some of the parenting styles I see. I’ve actually written about it before: It’s Just Sad to Me and It Takes a Village and All That. In these cases, I feel like the parents are putting their children in direct risk of harm and I struggle with my feelings about it. I know I’ve done plenty of things that would get a head shake or a clicked tongue by some moms.

I let my kids watch tv – even in the car. They play video games. It takes me days to put away their laundry. Sometimes, they eat fast food and don’t get enough veggie servings in a day. I attempted breastfeeding for as long as I could but didn’t make myself – or my child – miserable when my body said no more. I co-slept with them. I let them cry themselves to sleep. I’ve raised my voice to them. I’ve disciplined harshly. I’ve questioned a low grade on a test and reviewed it with them to teach them. I’ve over-praised and bragged on them. I’ve loved intensely, letting their moods and feelings heavily affect mine. I’ve wondered how the heck to be a mom.

All of those things came from caring about them and about whether I was being a good mom to them, as I’m sure many of the labeled moms are trying to do. My kids seem to love and respect me – and generally think I’m ok, so far. (In fact, Nia just told me I’m the “best” and she didn’t ask for a treat after it.) Is there a mom type for that?

I kinda like them.

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Why Is Nine Afraid of Seven?

29 Apr

Because eight was so great.

Department Store Catalog Pose featuring her Fashion Creation

I know nine will be too, I’m just going through the typical parent emotion of watching the years fly by. To see Nia’s sweet, smart and caring spirit adapt to and try to understand different experiences as she figures out how to respond and feel. To see her become her own person, create her own sense of style, humor and thoughts. It is wonderful, but wild.

Trying to be serious during a fit of giggles.

Her eighth year was full of firsts and new emotions. Riding without training wheels; keeping her Barbies in the drawer and, instead, spending more time with the door to her room closed to sing and dance to the latest pop music; watching less cartoons and more human-acted TV shows and movies; falling in love with Grease (and even seeing it live as a play – thanks, Aunt Ree!); and wanting to put a little more distance between her mom or dad as she plays outsides or explores a store. (I never let her out of my sight!)

Little Mall Shopper

Now, as she starts on her ninth year, I hope she handles her new adventures and challenges with the same thought and heart that she has shown so far. She tries her best, loves a good joke (which I attempted for her with the title), knows how to laugh at herself and how to make others laugh, and most beautifully, is caring to all.

Sharing the love while she sleeps.

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Waiting on a Catch

21 Apr

The feeling is so distinct. It has been years since I experienced it directly but I remember it each time I watch Nate on the baseball field. It’s like I can almost sense it through him.

He waits – eager, aware, knees slightly bent, ready to run, glove out, his free fist punches it to make it awake and prepared for something spectacular – a catch.

"Baseball Ready" by Dodgers' Mom, Amber

I remember what that felt like. The want of it is incredible and powerful.

Let’s go, batter. Hit it to me. I dare you. With the clang of the bat, the ball flies above the field. Above the pitcher. Above Second Base. It’s close to me. I got it. It’s mine! I run for it. Empty glove out. The slap of the ball. Heavy glove. Cheers. Elation. Ready for another.

I wasn’t a star softball player. I would actually call myself average but that doesn’t take away from that feeling. Now, I as watch Nate, I know he feels it too. He wants to field that ball. He wants the catch. He will dive out in the air for it. He’s made a few and missed a few, too. It seems the ones you miss make the ones you snag so much sweeter.

I’m thankful Nate and Andrew let me play outfield for them when they practice. I still can’t shake that feeling. Come on, Nate. Hit me a pop-up.

Waiting for my Catch

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