Gone Tomorrow

I remember dating an older guy when I was seventeen. I was known to do that often then. He tried to tell me that when I became an adult life would become routine and that the monotony of day to day life is a reality. I remember even then thinking that it would never be that way for me. I knew I wanted the kind of life that was exciting enough that I would never feel bored. I was pretty sure I would prove him wrong. I most definitely did!

My life isn't a piece of pie or easy as cake, or whatever that dessert reference is, but it isn't crazy difficult either. I feel a tremendous amount of gratitude for what I have and what I have accomplished. Sure, I had different hopes for where I would be with a career right now but I also never anticipated just how much time I would want to commit to being with my children. I had one of those epiphany moments today, where it was a beautiful crisp fall morning and I was running in the playground with my son. No one else was there and we were taking advantage of that by yelling and laughing. We were going down the slide, jumping off together and laughing. I thought about how much fun it was to get to do this, to be silly and free with my little boy.

That joy was immediately followed by the fact that all of this will all change. I suddenly became very existential and thought about how he will grow older and I will too, and that my parents are getting older, and how yes many things change for the better with time, but some changes are terribly difficult to bear. I feel time is flying at a more rapid speed than it did in the past. When I turned forty I began to wonder about what this decade would bring and immediately I thought about the possibility of losing a parent just gets greater and greater as we all get older. There is very little I can do to prepare myself for that day so I just often put the thought out of my head as if it won't ever really happen. There is an inevitability to it though. Just as the day I had my first baby my world was seen as "before and after" because the change was so epic, I believe losing the people who brought you into the world will make it look different when they are gone. Especially if you love them dearly.

When I look at the characteristics or flaws in myself that are challenges for me I can also see the positive elements that come with those flaws. I am deeply sensitive and so I don't seem to take as much lightly as I would like. I don't laugh things off that easily, and I read into things. The flip side of being able to feel really low is the joy that comes with the highs and most importantly the appreciation for feeling somewhere in the middle. As a result I am pretty absorbed in what is going on moment to moment. One would think that is a good thing since there is so much research about being present but when I am focused on what I am doing I have trouble transitioning out and on to the next. I like to linger. I enjoy wandering and losing track of time. I often get side tracked and enjoying seeing where the day takes me. Of course with kids and responsibilities this becomes a time management issue often.  I do take to heart though that my ability to focus on what I am doing well has allowed me to be a very committed mother. I know that this role is forever and a commitment that has a lifetime guarantee. I am also aware that it evolves often and I am in the early stages. Respectfully as a daughter my gratitude lasts even longer than a lifetime. I cherish time so preciously with my parents and my children especially when we can be all together.

I've never looked that guy I up and I don't think I ever will, but I do wonder if he would to this day stand by his statement about life being so routine. I know he went on to have children and I would be really surprised if he watched and marveled who they morph into if he could still say life was boring. For me, yesterday was nothing like today and when today is gone who knows what surprises tomorrow holds.

Manicures, Tea and Mental Illness

Tuesday afternoon I was invited to a new friend's house for tea. She had baked and said to bring the kids. It was super low key and it was a nice way for our girls to get to know each other a bit better. Turned out to be a good day for us girls to get to know each other as well. The hostess was a woman who I had met a few years ago through a friend, and when I knew I was moving the mutual friend put us back in touch. When I got there another woman who I have met a few times at the school was there too. She and I have been introduced so many times we started giving each other new names. The three of us sat at her dining room table and started the afternoon with a lovely cup of tea, some delicious fresh baked pies and cakes. That was just the beginning.

Eventually our conversations about school teachers, whining, and what to make to dinner went a bit deeper. We sat there for a few sweet hours getting to know each other. We talked about where we were from, our families, and all the fun characters that come up with that topic. We talked about mental illness and suicide and how there is such a stigma attached to needing help, but if you are anemic by all means take an iron pill. That conversation of course opened up the door for the extreme stories of people we know, or are related to, who have suffered so, and a few who took there own lives. It was never somber talk though, no one began tearing up, it was just matter of fact. We talked about how and where we grew up. We shared stories of how we all ended up in this city, what we used to do, and what we do now. At some point a container of nail polishes came out and one by one we all started doing our nails. It wasn't planned, but in one lovely afternoon I got to know two new friends, had a nice cuppa tea and got a nice manicure. It was pretty sweet.

So here I am somewhere between Halloween and Thanksgiving and indeed feeling more at home in our new area. We still haven't moved into our new house yet, but in the meantime I'm feeling very welcomed by the neighbors. Just when I had come to the conclusion that people were very nice, but not very interesting, I was thankfully proven wrong. We even found some time to be a bit catty. I know it isn't the nicest thing in the world to make fun of someone else's enormous hairdo but sometime its just has to happen. Also, I was beginning to think the people around here were just too nice, so I am glad to see a bit of grit. Girls will be girls after all.

While we sat around in the dining room our kids were playing outside in the yard. They had a great time and rarely did we hear from them. It was just one of those afternoons that had the right mix and everyone got along really well together. We parted ways at the end of tea promising that next time we would go out for drinks. We laughed so hard that we may as well have been drinking. Throw some alcohol into the mix next time and who knows what will be said. I'm excited to find out. Cheers! Either way I left wanting a tea set and a pretty box to put the tea bags in. I think it was my first tea party and I look forward to another one.

Strength Training

I'm pretty ritualistic when it comes to exercise. It's been part of my life for many years, and as a competitive athlete I never missed a day of practice. I even sacrificed family trips, nights out in high school and even the second half of the high school prom to ensure that I stayed on my game. When someone recently asked me how I maintain a exercise program now that I have kids the answer is a no brainer. I have to, it is just part of who I am.

Lately, that has been threatened by my son's new trend to wake up in the 5 am hour. Once I am up and then trying to get him to go back down I fall asleep without enough time to work out. Sleep is equally important but I need to find a solution so that I can do both. I got my haircut today and this one appointment took so long to organize because I needed to find a friend to watch my son, and appointment with the hairdresser that worked with in her schedule, my friend's and my son's nap. Sitting in the chair I realized how different the ten plus years between my hairdresser a myself makes. She was talking about being newly single at 28 and how she was beginning to feel like she should get comfortable being alone. I smiled and told her one day she will long for this alone time.

When I am out at a restaurant which is not as common occurrence these days, I notice how much younger everyone is looking. People around me that are now considered adults are over ten years younger than me. When I see this sometimes I feel like a bear who has been hibernating all winter, meanwhile everyone around me has been out doing stuff. I left working over 6 years ago and don't even know how to begin to go back. I have plenty ideas, but I feel a bit outdated.

I'm hungry for anew project, and an inspiring team of people to play with intellectually each day, but it will have to wait until I am not limited to a two hour nap window a day. My son will be off at school before long and I will be missing my time with my baby, so I will not wish this away. Meanwhile though my sense of daily accomplishments gets tied directly to exercise. For that reason I am going to stop writing and head to the floor where I can run in place for a while. Tired or not!

Sing, Sing a Song

I was listening to a story on the radio yesterday. I didn't hear much of it but it was an interview with a writer/songwriter. He was talking about a book he wrote and then the interviewer asked him whether he prefers writing books or songs more. He, with no hesitation said, they cannot be compared. He said singing is like fire and we do it from the second we are born. He said writing is a much more calculated process. I had never thought about just how primal singing is. We voice ourselves immediately out of the womb. Everyone's first sounds are not small whispered mubblings, rather, loud wailing and musical. What a wonderful way to start!

Music was always a big part of my household growing up. My mother, a classical pianist, taught piano lessons after school. During the day she was a music teacher at a school as well. My sister played violin, my brother the french horn, and I studied a bit of piano, and violin, but mostly I loved to sing. My mother and I were a duo from the time I was three. She and I would perform on stage in concert at my grandmothers senior group as well as for anyone in our house who would listen. I had a big voice for a little girl and I remember wearing a gingham gown and standing center stage in front of a sea of gray haired audience members. My grandma was in the front row always smiling at me. I loved her and it made me happy to see her happy.

At school I was part of the chorus and although I loved singing together with friends I was a hog when it came time to solos. I always auditioned to sing on my own and loved duets as well. My best friend and I did one together once for a recital and to this day she still sings parts of it on my voicemail for my birthday sometimes. As a teenager I would reenact my favorite ballads from Broadway musicals in front of the mirror. When I was most upset and heavy with teenage angst I felt singing was the single most effective way out of it. Classical was always on in the house or car and my mom would bet my sister a dollar if she could guess the composer. She stopped playing that with my brother and I. Either because she would have gone broke or we didn't know the answers as well. Can't remember which. Music was joy for me. It was the sound I remember most in my house, and anything traditional we did religiously or spiritually that has stuck with me today has only remained because there was music attached to it.

These days the music most played in my car or home is again of the musical theater kind. If my husband can help it he switches it to only the finest up and coming indie band, but he is overruled usually by my daughter and recently by my two year old son. Annie and Frozen are still top of the most played here. After January came and went I felt relieved to take a "Let it Go" break but recently when we played it randomly my little one became hooked. Now he asks for "Posen" all the time. Many have a love hate relationship with Frozen. I really thought I might scream if I had to listen to anymore, but then it would be on in the car and I would think I could tune it out and then moments later I am belting it out with my munchkins in the back seat. As a mother daughter duo Twig and I would sing the duets together this past winter and my husband from the side line would jokingly smirk and tell me I was living my dream singing with her. In response I would say "yes and your nightmare." I too can poke fun at theater geeks because it is an annoying group but sometimes they are having more fun than the rest of us, so its easy to be bitter.

The last few weeks after I drop my daughter off at school I take my son to one of the local parks. I have met a few nice moms, but I have met even more nice nannies and grandmothers. At two, my son is starting to interact more and more with kids his own age, so when he sees the regular park goers he is excited to play. Last time a few of us were sitting at a picnic table taking a snack break when I channeled my mother. One of the nannies mentioned how sometimes she brings books to read at the park and the next thing I knew I was running a mini song session with two nannies, a grandma, and four kids. I'm not exactly sure how we all started singing but we went through quite a repertoire of songs.

When a flyer came home last week for the elementary school choir at Twig's school I was relieved. It wasn't just happy and excited it was a relief to see that she could be part of something bigger than just she and I singing in the kitchen. That I wouldn't be the sole person holding the responsibility of her getting the opportunity to open her mouth to sing. Don't get me wrong she sings all the time at home but this opportunity to sing in a choir is special and even if the teacher sucks, singing together with a group of other children is special. She was ambivalent at first and then she realized how many of her friends were doing it as well, and she got excited. So Wednesday mornings we will leave extra early to get to school for choir. To and from school my son asks for "Posen" and 99% of the time I put it on for him. Just as I feel the need to scream from "Do you want a build a snowman?" countless times, his little voice chimes in with them. Each day he is gaining more and more words and yet the fact that he couldn't even say a full sentence doesn't stop him from singing a song. He has a great ear and can sing on key, he usually sings the last word of each sentence really clearly. It pretty sweet to hear. I tell myself when I get sick of the music I will be sicker when the day comes when he doesn't want to sing out loud anymore, because it will come. Hopefully before he becomes a big theater geek though.

Sing Out Loud, Sing Out Strong,
Don't worry if its not good enough
For anyone else to hear,
Just sing, Sing a Song!

New Girls

With all the changes come a lot of emotions. New apartment, new area, new school, new gymnastics. It's a lot for me to get used to, let alone my 6 year old. My little one just needs two or three days in a place and he will yell out "home" the second we turn into the driveway. In his short life he has already moved practically 4 times. My daughter is a lot more aware of how different her life is now. She loved Kindergarten and now that we moved, there was a lot of longing for her old school.

Kids are adaptable and will follow your lead on how big of a deal you make something. I have been working really hard on my poker face and showing her that new situations are exciting and an adventure. The truth is that I do feel that way but in the past my fear typically over shadowed the excitement. As an adult the stress and fear combined can be a distracting combo but this time I promised myself to stay positive. My close friend talked me into trying to take it all as it came. Boy did come at us this summer, with all the moves and unknown elements of where we would live. I took her advice and I am not going to say there hasn't been challenging moments but I am impressed with my stability through this process.

When my girl looks up at me and tells me she has butterflies on the first day of school, I tell her I understand. I really do understand because I have them for her too, but we are not becoming paralyzed by the fear. I am helping her replace some of the worry with excitement, (or as she says "distract me mommy") and she is already using coping tools that I wasn't able to until recently. Every new subject or activity that we heard about for her new school I would get excited for her and tell her how amazing first grade would be. Her poker face wasn't as good as mine, and she was fighting back tears. Her bravery impressed me though. It was hard to stand amongst a class of kids and watch them all say hello to one another in a more familiar way than she was able to. They all knew each other from Kindergarten and no one else seemed scared or upset.

Everyone has been really nice and friendly, even more so than at the school she attended last year. The big difference though is that we both had a close friend at the old school and don't really know anyone here. In this area I think she might actually be doing a bit better than me. She has found a few people she wants to hang out with. One of them she was a bit off on her judgement and at our first get together at this girl's house revealed that maybe she was a bit less sweet than she originally seemed, but she has navigated with the kids nicely. I feel a bit more lonely for my bff's lately. I know it takes time, but I am missing my cool interesting, edgy, smart fun friends. I am sure there are some people that exist living in this new part of town but I haven't met them yet.

I know it takes time, and the same message I am conveying to my girl, I need to heed myself. Little by little. It's only September and I heard from another parent last year that the adjustment to the new school year really settles in by Halloween. I think it's safe to say Twig will be more than at home by then. As for me, if I don't feel more settled by Halloween I'll be the one with the white sheet over my head.

Suckin' List

Suckin List

Before I forget all the words by children mispronounce or before they start saying things correctly I wanted to start a list.

Twig always said S’s instead of F’s so when we had a song playing once that was inappropriate for her then age 2 ears she would sing the lyrics “I saw it on the suckin' concrete!" She says f’s most of the time now so we stopped playing the song.

She does still call her fingers “singers”

Balloom instead of Balloon.

Strustrated

My little one who is just beginning to talk has a few words in his own language that we have all picked up

Dudnuh -- lollypop

Dahdun -- balloon

Ohnay-working -- when he sees anyone doing construction work

Mommy la -- me

Daddy la -- my husband

Aya -- his sister

Horphy -- horsie

Coursh -- of course

Yesh -- yes

Oh ma goodnesh -- oh my goodness

Was dis? -- Whats this?

I need to write these down because as one can see I don't have many words for my daughter as the cute mispronounced words are being replaced with "embarrassed" and "mommy don't sing" and the days of dancing in public just because are almost done for her. She has an awareness of the world around her in a way that he doesn't yet. When I take them scootering, she wants to fly down the street as fast as she can, while he stops and marvels at the twigs, leaves and roots of the trees. At the age of six, she day-by-day is becoming a little bit more independent, strong, and brave. As first grade begins I am trying to fathom how this day crept upon us so quickly. I felt like I just had her a few years ago.

There is a nagging voice in my head at times to "get my life back" and spend more time getting a job, a step up from the one I have now of wiping bums and counter tops, even attempt to change the world a little. I have to tell the voice to whisper every now and again though. I don't want it to go away completely but if it screams it will wake up my screaming toddler in the other room. I still have a two year old and soon enough he will be ready for first grade and then that voice and I can have a conversation. In the meantime I am trying to concentrate on the sound of my baby mispronouncing more and more words.

This is A Test

I remember being six years old and getting sick a lot. At a certain point my mom had to take me to get blood taken and the phlebotomist was a woman with really long, red-painted fingernails. She would pull my arm and use her long nails to trace my skin in search of a vein. I had a few of these done because I got a bad case of Scarlet Fever. I distinctly remember the day that I decided "enough was enough" and that maybe I had some say in the matter. The woman was holding my arm with those red nails and I decided to pull away. She grabbed tighter and the experience just went from bad to worse. I was already fighting though and I couldn't back down and just comply. Instead I turned it up, screaming, "No!", flailing my body and trying to pull my arm away. Tuns out when you are upset and you already have little, hard-to-find veins, putting up a fight didn't make it any easier.

I never seem to get over my fear of having blood taken. I don't mind needles if they have to inject medicine, but feel it is incredibly invasive to have a sharp object poked into my vein and take my blood out. Not to mention how squeamish I am and that the whole idea turns my stomach. As a kid when I heard that in order to have a baby you would have to have blood drawn throughout the pregnancy I decided I would adopt to avoid unnecessary needles. When I did get pregnant it was even harder to find a vein just confirming that there was actually truth to my fear. Being poked five times just to get a bit of blood doesn't ease ones' nerves. During my actual births I was able to convince the nurses to not take my blood before during or after labor. They seemed surprised I was okay with the pain of a drug-free birth, but not the prick of a needle. It was true for me though. I would rather push out a baby than give you my arm for blood. Call me crazy.

This past week when my six year old was given a blood test, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Five minutes before she had made the same fighter decision I had at six to fight with all her might during a routine TB test. It took two nurses and my whole body to hold her still for a tiny prick. How could they ask her to sit still for a few viles of blood. How would I help comfort her when this is such a huge fear for me? Right then and there though I had one of those selfless parenting moments where you realize the crap you could pass on to your kid, and that a better decision could be made. A decision that requires Oscar-worthy acting skills. A decision that could be mistaken for a lie if one really knew how I felt inside. A decision that could release her of any of my attachments I have to this, and help her feel brave and then proud.

She was afraid and wanted to wait until the next day but I bribed her with ice cream and a toy. I explained the sooner she gets it done the sooner she can stop thinking about it. I also explained to her how the whole thing was really no big deal, and gave her every detail of what she should expect, from the band around her arm to the cotton ball at the end. She seemed to take comfort in knowing what to expect. She believed me that it was quick and hardly painful. I said that it was okay to cry but not okay to move around like she did for the TB test. I promised to hold her and told her that when I have it done I like to be told a story while it was happening to be distracted.

When the time came for her she climbed up on my lap, put her arm out and watched them put the band on her arm. She began to cry a little and the phlebotomist asked if I thought she would sit still or should the other nurse come into help. I whispered in her ear asking if she could be still and she said she could. The tears were rolling off her cheek but she stayed still. I whispered a story in her ear about the bravest sweetest girl I knew and how very loved she was, she asked it it was over and the man said it would be just a few seconds more. I couldn't look but I could hear as he finished up and then it was over. She got her cotton ball and the hugest hug from me ever. I may have been a little lightheaded but she was a strong as ever.

While we sat and ate our hard earned ice creams, I was grateful that she handled the whole thing so well. I was proud of myself for not showing any of my panic, proud of her that she handled it so well and didn't put up a fight, and relieved that there was no red nail polish involved whatsoever.