Well, May 4th. But in any case, it feels like spring. And therefore I suppose my "revamp" of the ol' blog was in order!
Write soon ...
Monday, May 4, 2015
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Opposites Attract?
Lately, my husband and I have not been on the same page. About a lot of things. Work, the kids, house projects. And this has been one of the most beneficial times of our relationship. Confused? Let me explain...
I've often heard that opposites attract. And yet, in finding a mate one usually hopes to be with someone that shares similar values and ideologies (possibly outright opinions). Maybe that's selfish as it can be someone we can manipulate, or maybe it has to do with the fact that we want someone on our side, some security in our own neuroses.. Sure, the search could prove somewhat selfish or conceited; but if we look deeper into what often makes a partnership work - or mine for all intents and purposes - it's less about the selfish similarities and more about the shared differences.
Last night, Mike and I had our first date in over six months. It was a couple of margaritas and churros ice cream, and it was glorious. As we reconnected amidst the vibrant colors and Mexican flair of the restaurant, we reminisced about life before kids, before the house and talked about our 'self selves' pre-family. The memories pleasant enough led us quickly back to making sure we would not go back to those times, if only to help our own relationship grow. Buying a house did not make us a better couple outright, nor did having kids make us a stronger one. Ultimately, we discovered talking last night that we were developing in our relationship wonderfully in part to these life changes and more so because of the way they split us and our time.
I will be pursuing yoga certification next year, and into the spring of 2016 I will be spending every weekend at the studio (yup, every weekend). Mike will be responsible for being with the kids by himself for a much larger percentage than myself. Like, a huge percentage more. This is how I view it, and when I presented the application as such, Mike just looks me in the eye and ever so deftly recites, "we're not tit for tat, Carly." So I apply vigorously, accept happily, and now anticipate gleefully the opening weekend come September.
There may be a time in our future relationship when Mike is the one in graduate school, or pursuing his own life goal that "eats up" more time. There were many days this summer when too pregnant to do much else than sit pregnant that Mike got Elliot to the park, or out for a walk. I cook most nights, even if Mike can grill a mean turkey burger. I tidy up at the end of our days, and M doesn't really like me near the washing machine - it's his chore.
So we're not 50/50, and I think it's been great. I definitely always thought we'd be better for it being more even, but just as the universe balances herself out, our roles and jobs are a yin-yang relationship helping create wholeness without expectation. I could argue that unlike the universe, we have to work at it a little bit. Sometimes six months go by and we hit a "roommate rut," and only through consciously putting down our phones and looking one another in the eye do we dig out of it to rejuvenate. But I guess Earth goes through it too - in seasons, in weather, in landscape - it's always growth. Even out of the dust a flower can bloom.
I've often heard that opposites attract. And yet, in finding a mate one usually hopes to be with someone that shares similar values and ideologies (possibly outright opinions). Maybe that's selfish as it can be someone we can manipulate, or maybe it has to do with the fact that we want someone on our side, some security in our own neuroses.. Sure, the search could prove somewhat selfish or conceited; but if we look deeper into what often makes a partnership work - or mine for all intents and purposes - it's less about the selfish similarities and more about the shared differences.
Last night, Mike and I had our first date in over six months. It was a couple of margaritas and churros ice cream, and it was glorious. As we reconnected amidst the vibrant colors and Mexican flair of the restaurant, we reminisced about life before kids, before the house and talked about our 'self selves' pre-family. The memories pleasant enough led us quickly back to making sure we would not go back to those times, if only to help our own relationship grow. Buying a house did not make us a better couple outright, nor did having kids make us a stronger one. Ultimately, we discovered talking last night that we were developing in our relationship wonderfully in part to these life changes and more so because of the way they split us and our time.
I will be pursuing yoga certification next year, and into the spring of 2016 I will be spending every weekend at the studio (yup, every weekend). Mike will be responsible for being with the kids by himself for a much larger percentage than myself. Like, a huge percentage more. This is how I view it, and when I presented the application as such, Mike just looks me in the eye and ever so deftly recites, "we're not tit for tat, Carly." So I apply vigorously, accept happily, and now anticipate gleefully the opening weekend come September.
There may be a time in our future relationship when Mike is the one in graduate school, or pursuing his own life goal that "eats up" more time. There were many days this summer when too pregnant to do much else than sit pregnant that Mike got Elliot to the park, or out for a walk. I cook most nights, even if Mike can grill a mean turkey burger. I tidy up at the end of our days, and M doesn't really like me near the washing machine - it's his chore.
So we're not 50/50, and I think it's been great. I definitely always thought we'd be better for it being more even, but just as the universe balances herself out, our roles and jobs are a yin-yang relationship helping create wholeness without expectation. I could argue that unlike the universe, we have to work at it a little bit. Sometimes six months go by and we hit a "roommate rut," and only through consciously putting down our phones and looking one another in the eye do we dig out of it to rejuvenate. But I guess Earth goes through it too - in seasons, in weather, in landscape - it's always growth. Even out of the dust a flower can bloom.
Monday, January 26, 2015
snapshots
(E, this one is more or less for you, pretty girl.*)
When I was pregnant with Oliver this summer, one of my neighbors and I were talking - particularly about what it might be like with the two kids: Me, "utter chaos, right?!" and my sweet, sweet neighbor, with the experience of transitioning from 1 to 3 after having twin boys post first-daughter, she smiles, "it can be crazy, but oh the moments you will have are priceless."
This, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call a 'snapshot.' Both the moment in time chatting with Lisa, but also the concept that life is compiled of little moments not to be taken for granted. I heard a quote this this New Years, "days go by slow, but years go fast." How true! Take a look at your calendars, it's already the final week of January...Ultimately, what she told me was not new, but hearing and listening are very things.
Something else I mentioned to her as a potential nervousness was the unpredictable timing of juggling both; re: feedings, play needs, NAPS. After all, Elliot is generally a champion sleeper, what if the little one's Zzzzs caused her grief? Or us?? Again, so poetically, Lisa reflected something then, which today reared its lovely sentiment to me for nearly the first time in almost 5 months of having a second child: "oh, you will love having that special time with Elle - being with her in those precious moments alone will be different than it has ever been the last two years."
What do those Internet memes always say? MIND BLOWN. There have been a few keys indicators of this righteous statement just this weekend. Today, Elle speaking softly but oh so fervently to herself while building an imaginative Lego tower. Mike and I tiptoed around like house fairies to hear her monologue run with characters ("Prince" and "Princess") and scenery ("horsey' crib"). Elle was also sick on Saturday with a 24-hour bug. I may regret saying this, but give me poop over throw-up any day. Blech. After nearly 6 hours of sheet-stripping and back-rubbing, we brought her downstairs to let the last bath hair dry a little before getting back into bed. As we snuggled on the lone couch cushion unscathed, I asked if I can brush her hair. I figured this could provide a little familiarity of comfort; lately she has been noticing when I get 'my face' on in the mornings and asks for her share of blush and powder too: "Makeup for Elliot, too, Mama." So I asked about her hair and Elle wiped some of the bangs from her brow, looking up doe-eyed to question somewhat deliriously, "for tangles then look in mirror and see so pretty?" Okay, I'm crying now. During those aforementioned mornings, after I "apply" her dose of rouge and mascara, I send her to the door-length mirror in Ollie's room to see what it looks like and exclaim, "Oh! How pretty!" I guess that stuck - and so now I'm crying. I'm crying while my poor babe is just trying to catch a break from the chaos of this flu bug.
So my neighbor was right - I heard it now thinking back - such snapshots are temporary and fleeting. Grab each one!
[Author's sidebar: I do struggle with comments towards my kids like "pretty" or "smart" or "cute" ad nasueum, because I don't desire constructs like these for them to be solely identified - by me, or anyone else for that matter. But in a pinch of what my heart feels to be truthful? No problem :) ]
When I was pregnant with Oliver this summer, one of my neighbors and I were talking - particularly about what it might be like with the two kids: Me, "utter chaos, right?!" and my sweet, sweet neighbor, with the experience of transitioning from 1 to 3 after having twin boys post first-daughter, she smiles, "it can be crazy, but oh the moments you will have are priceless."
This, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call a 'snapshot.' Both the moment in time chatting with Lisa, but also the concept that life is compiled of little moments not to be taken for granted. I heard a quote this this New Years, "days go by slow, but years go fast." How true! Take a look at your calendars, it's already the final week of January...Ultimately, what she told me was not new, but hearing and listening are very things.
Something else I mentioned to her as a potential nervousness was the unpredictable timing of juggling both; re: feedings, play needs, NAPS. After all, Elliot is generally a champion sleeper, what if the little one's Zzzzs caused her grief? Or us?? Again, so poetically, Lisa reflected something then, which today reared its lovely sentiment to me for nearly the first time in almost 5 months of having a second child: "oh, you will love having that special time with Elle - being with her in those precious moments alone will be different than it has ever been the last two years."
What do those Internet memes always say? MIND BLOWN. There have been a few keys indicators of this righteous statement just this weekend. Today, Elle speaking softly but oh so fervently to herself while building an imaginative Lego tower. Mike and I tiptoed around like house fairies to hear her monologue run with characters ("Prince" and "Princess") and scenery ("horsey' crib"). Elle was also sick on Saturday with a 24-hour bug. I may regret saying this, but give me poop over throw-up any day. Blech. After nearly 6 hours of sheet-stripping and back-rubbing, we brought her downstairs to let the last bath hair dry a little before getting back into bed. As we snuggled on the lone couch cushion unscathed, I asked if I can brush her hair. I figured this could provide a little familiarity of comfort; lately she has been noticing when I get 'my face' on in the mornings and asks for her share of blush and powder too: "Makeup for Elliot, too, Mama." So I asked about her hair and Elle wiped some of the bangs from her brow, looking up doe-eyed to question somewhat deliriously, "for tangles then look in mirror and see so pretty?" Okay, I'm crying now. During those aforementioned mornings, after I "apply" her dose of rouge and mascara, I send her to the door-length mirror in Ollie's room to see what it looks like and exclaim, "Oh! How pretty!" I guess that stuck - and so now I'm crying. I'm crying while my poor babe is just trying to catch a break from the chaos of this flu bug.
So my neighbor was right - I heard it now thinking back - such snapshots are temporary and fleeting. Grab each one!
[Author's sidebar: I do struggle with comments towards my kids like "pretty" or "smart" or "cute" ad nasueum, because I don't desire constructs like these for them to be solely identified - by me, or anyone else for that matter. But in a pinch of what my heart feels to be truthful? No problem :) ]
Saturday, January 3, 2015
What if your bed was round?
Remember the old adage, "I got up on the wrong side of the bed?" So, I pose: what if you consciously make your bed round??
You can probably guess where I'm going with this as it's the New Year, and 2015 calls for reflection and visions of new goals/perspectives as any switch from December to January tends to do. I thought about this concept, this circular mattress idea of sorts, just this morning when I arose from my bed. It was a rough night sleep-wise. For our non-scheduled 4-month old, he does generally well waking up just once during the night, getting a feed, then putting himself back to sleep until a more appropriate (mama-and-papa-appreciated) morning time. Even Elliot has been letting us sleep way past 6:00 these days; so, last night as Mike and I are settling down around 9:00, heading up to read and get our own shut-eye, the little bugger puts on a wimpy little whimper, I bust down the door, interpret Ollie's mews as calls for nursing, pop him on/off the boobs as fast as I can and hop into our delicious flannel sheets. I figure, "Yes! I am amazing! He will surely sleep now until 3:00 or 4:00 - maybe even all the way through!"
I get a solid 2 hours before I am awoken by Mike's snores/hap-hazard breathing as he's getting over his own cold, mixed with my attention span being roused as Oliver has in fact (and much to my glee), not woken up, but alas my mama-brain switches for the rest of the night to any inkling, any decibel on the monitor. In fact O does wait until 4:30 to eat, to which I grumble internally, "Seriously, bro?! Couldn't wait just 1 or 2 more hours at this point??" Note: it's really the flannel sheets I'm desperate to stay snuggled in. They're outrageous, and I highly recommend a set if you don't have one.
Beyond fortunately, and I mean that, Oliver goes back to sleep after eating again in the wee hours, and I flutter my lids open to his grunts around 6:45. To say all this and recognize in general how sweet I do have it, I also say this. I did not want to get out of bed this morning. Between 4:30 and 6:45 I had maybe 15 consecutive minutes of undisturbed dozing, with a majority of it stuck on the mama-brain phenomenon, and yes, Mike's god-awful state. I mean, poor sickly husband, you. :) He's a deep enough sleeper, even with NyQuil in his system that I can gently (aggressively at times) nudge him and he'll unconsciously roll over and relieve my ears for a few minutes at a time. So no, I was not ready to get out of bed. I had fed the boy twice, knew I would have to wrestle him, Elle, and Winnie for their morning meals, and I really did want to give Mike the break his body needed, but I was just so. damn. tired.
Then it clicks. Call it dumb luck. But I think it was proper physical, chakra-oriented, introspective alignment the second my bare feet hit the proverbial cold wooden floor: "I choose to get out of this bed happy, with purpose, and acceptance of today's adventures." This sentence swishes between my ears so soundly, I didn't give it a second thought, and sure enough my spine stayed straight, I fixed about my hair in a quick ponytail, and marched on out of our room into the day. My bed became round, and I didn't have to wake up on any other 'side' of it other than how I made it so.
The night's circumstances? Garbage. My attitude surpassing them? It's an innate, human privilege that we should be so lucky to remember that we have: and that is the power within ourselves to choose how to feel, and subsequently act within what we can control. Happy New Year! May all your future mattresses be round...
You can probably guess where I'm going with this as it's the New Year, and 2015 calls for reflection and visions of new goals/perspectives as any switch from December to January tends to do. I thought about this concept, this circular mattress idea of sorts, just this morning when I arose from my bed. It was a rough night sleep-wise. For our non-scheduled 4-month old, he does generally well waking up just once during the night, getting a feed, then putting himself back to sleep until a more appropriate (mama-and-papa-appreciated) morning time. Even Elliot has been letting us sleep way past 6:00 these days; so, last night as Mike and I are settling down around 9:00, heading up to read and get our own shut-eye, the little bugger puts on a wimpy little whimper, I bust down the door, interpret Ollie's mews as calls for nursing, pop him on/off the boobs as fast as I can and hop into our delicious flannel sheets. I figure, "Yes! I am amazing! He will surely sleep now until 3:00 or 4:00 - maybe even all the way through!"
I get a solid 2 hours before I am awoken by Mike's snores/hap-hazard breathing as he's getting over his own cold, mixed with my attention span being roused as Oliver has in fact (and much to my glee), not woken up, but alas my mama-brain switches for the rest of the night to any inkling, any decibel on the monitor. In fact O does wait until 4:30 to eat, to which I grumble internally, "Seriously, bro?! Couldn't wait just 1 or 2 more hours at this point??" Note: it's really the flannel sheets I'm desperate to stay snuggled in. They're outrageous, and I highly recommend a set if you don't have one.
Beyond fortunately, and I mean that, Oliver goes back to sleep after eating again in the wee hours, and I flutter my lids open to his grunts around 6:45. To say all this and recognize in general how sweet I do have it, I also say this. I did not want to get out of bed this morning. Between 4:30 and 6:45 I had maybe 15 consecutive minutes of undisturbed dozing, with a majority of it stuck on the mama-brain phenomenon, and yes, Mike's god-awful state. I mean, poor sickly husband, you. :) He's a deep enough sleeper, even with NyQuil in his system that I can gently (aggressively at times) nudge him and he'll unconsciously roll over and relieve my ears for a few minutes at a time. So no, I was not ready to get out of bed. I had fed the boy twice, knew I would have to wrestle him, Elle, and Winnie for their morning meals, and I really did want to give Mike the break his body needed, but I was just so. damn. tired.
Then it clicks. Call it dumb luck. But I think it was proper physical, chakra-oriented, introspective alignment the second my bare feet hit the proverbial cold wooden floor: "I choose to get out of this bed happy, with purpose, and acceptance of today's adventures." This sentence swishes between my ears so soundly, I didn't give it a second thought, and sure enough my spine stayed straight, I fixed about my hair in a quick ponytail, and marched on out of our room into the day. My bed became round, and I didn't have to wake up on any other 'side' of it other than how I made it so.
The night's circumstances? Garbage. My attitude surpassing them? It's an innate, human privilege that we should be so lucky to remember that we have: and that is the power within ourselves to choose how to feel, and subsequently act within what we can control. Happy New Year! May all your future mattresses be round...
Monday, November 3, 2014
old habits
Forgive me. Really. I say "sorry" way too much. Ask my mom. This is an old habit of mine that just has not gone away - albeit I don't really try too hard to erase the word from my vocabulary. The word carries meaning no doubt, and under appropriate circumstances carries importance to someone for whom it's intended. But perhaps not at the varying times/situations that I employ it. It's habit, and an old one, so often subconscious. I think this is where my mother often found difficulty in hearing or accepting it after a while. Sort of, 'Carly Cries Wolf.' ('Carly "Sorries" Wolf?') They say things don't mean as much when stated too often; I didn't realize how much that statement meant or how right my mom was until I've recently heard my two year old repeating: "I'm sorry."
I taught daycare for a total of about three years. It was my first job out of college, and although I had parents (and acquaintances) refer to it as "playcare" or "what were you thinking??", it is really a tough gig. Particularly as the top childcare centers now require their teachers to have teaching certifications, or better yet degrees in education. (I worked for Bright Horizons Family Solutions who promises its clientele that soon all their staff will have a Bachelors in education. I think they'd hoped by the year 2020 if I'm not mistaken -- and not too far away at this point.) Academically aside, any job watching after and educating children of any age is strenuous. I started out in preschool, but moved to (and quickly fell in love with) toddlers for the bulk of my time with the company. There are so many wonderful 'firsts' with toddlers that I found enjoyable. Let's get basic: Walking. Talking. Using a cup sans lid. Sounds so pointless, right? Wrong. SO incredible to engage with kiddos utilizing these life-long tools and discoveries, I was always so happy and in awe to be a part of their initial "a-ha!" moments like these in the classroom or out on the playground. And despite it being a sad day when one of my most memorable kiddos, Ryan, didn't "need" me anymore to help him walk from the sensory table to his locker to get his coat on, we'd always have the next 'firsts' like how to put on that coat, or zip it up. Toddlers, for me, were what was up.
So, by way of these incredible milestones they were achieving, including talking, I learned swiftly within the care of fellow BH staffers that there is great power in assisting the cherubs with the intent of their speech. For instance -- "sorry" is to be used not repeatedly, not aimlessly, but with purpose. In other words, the culture of Bright Horizons was not to force kids to say "sorry" if they did something wrong (and let's not tangent right now on what constitutes something as 'right' or 'wrong') or by mistake, but rather assess and encourage them to address what happened in a safe manner. Scenario A) Sally is playing with a toy. Harry wants Sally's toy. Harry walks up to Sally and grabs the toy from her hand. Sally begins to cry. Adult sees/hears this interaction take place, and makes Harry walk back over to Sally and give her her toy and dictates, "Harry, tell Sally that you're sorry." From previous babysitting experiences and general observation of friends/families engaging with their own children, I saw this scenario play out numerous times in my life. While there's not any absolute here, and not necessarily anything (again) wrong, it's just not what BH, or now myself as a parent, views as the most optimal usage of the word "sorry."
For what does this show Sally or Harry? That there is a word that rectifies all missteps taken place by our friends or colleagues? Or that there is a word that resolves any conflict without addressing the how's and why's of the situation? Basically. And it's just a cop-out essentially for the adult who observed said scenario and therefore believes that there is a word which needs no explanation or further input in shaping the children's growth and maturity levels for future conflicts.
Okay - this might be starting to look like a soapbox gone wrong. I've been experiencing the cringe however. The shoulder-raising-eye-squinting kind of cringe I imagine my mom must have first felt with me, as I have recently been hearing Elliot utter the words "I'm sorry" in circumstances that don't really need an apology. And don't get me wrong, I believe there is importance to the phrase, and using it can truly affect more positively a situation that is unsafe, truly hurtful, or may need empathy. I don't doubt that all words carry sentiment, and "I'm sorry" is included. But when I am sitting on the couch watching Sesame Street with Elle, while feeding Oliver and checking Facebook like an asshole, and then hear "I'm sorry Mama" from sweet Elliot who has accidentally spilled her bowl of grapes. I cringe. I actually tear up (has happened already), and say, "Elliot, you don't need to be sorry, it's okay." Then I put down my phone and try to be present with what has happened. How many times has she heard me or Mike say "I'm sorry" for the all the silly things in life? How often have I negotiated my way out of a hard task in front of her by saying "I'm sorry." Old habits. This is what I am getting at. Yours will be different than mine, and mine is "I'm sorry." I wear it on my sleeve, and Elle has caught on, thinking: "If I say this I am forgiven; if I say these words I won't be hated." Ughhh - not my proudest parenting moment so far.
And so, I work on now really listening to her as best as I am able, and if I hear this phrase under wishy-washy terms, I look her in the eyes and say, "how come you are sorry?" Someday - and probably soon - I will likely get more of a reaction or response back from that question than a blink-blink and furrowed brow. But what I am offering here is a chance for her to process the why. She doesn't need to be sorry for accidentally spilling grapes. And I want to be able to process that out with her. She can be sorry for the circumstances as mentioned prior, i.e. safety (breaking a toy in half), hurtful (hitting her brother), empathy (supporting a friend - "I'm sorry your grandmother died"). But Elle can choose. As I am sure all of you choose certain things. I have family members that choose not to say "Bless you" when someone sneezes, for example. The words/phrase doesn't carry the same weight for them as it does many others.
*Do note, by the way, Elliot is also in a daycare setting of her own three days a week, and Mike and I have observed individually from time to time at pick-up or drop-off there is often encouragement by teachers to the students of, "say sorry child X to child Y for issue ABC." I get it. It happens. And thankfully it's not just my old habit that is affecting her. No, the eternal struggle of nature/nurture/causal effects come into play here. I just hope that as we parent, in addition to all of the kids' external factors, they remember that reflecting on why and how they are apologizing is as important as the "sorry" itself. Hopefully whatever our kids' old habit is won't carry a negative connotation, but a mindful one.
I taught daycare for a total of about three years. It was my first job out of college, and although I had parents (and acquaintances) refer to it as "playcare" or "what were you thinking??", it is really a tough gig. Particularly as the top childcare centers now require their teachers to have teaching certifications, or better yet degrees in education. (I worked for Bright Horizons Family Solutions who promises its clientele that soon all their staff will have a Bachelors in education. I think they'd hoped by the year 2020 if I'm not mistaken -- and not too far away at this point.) Academically aside, any job watching after and educating children of any age is strenuous. I started out in preschool, but moved to (and quickly fell in love with) toddlers for the bulk of my time with the company. There are so many wonderful 'firsts' with toddlers that I found enjoyable. Let's get basic: Walking. Talking. Using a cup sans lid. Sounds so pointless, right? Wrong. SO incredible to engage with kiddos utilizing these life-long tools and discoveries, I was always so happy and in awe to be a part of their initial "a-ha!" moments like these in the classroom or out on the playground. And despite it being a sad day when one of my most memorable kiddos, Ryan, didn't "need" me anymore to help him walk from the sensory table to his locker to get his coat on, we'd always have the next 'firsts' like how to put on that coat, or zip it up. Toddlers, for me, were what was up.
So, by way of these incredible milestones they were achieving, including talking, I learned swiftly within the care of fellow BH staffers that there is great power in assisting the cherubs with the intent of their speech. For instance -- "sorry" is to be used not repeatedly, not aimlessly, but with purpose. In other words, the culture of Bright Horizons was not to force kids to say "sorry" if they did something wrong (and let's not tangent right now on what constitutes something as 'right' or 'wrong') or by mistake, but rather assess and encourage them to address what happened in a safe manner. Scenario A) Sally is playing with a toy. Harry wants Sally's toy. Harry walks up to Sally and grabs the toy from her hand. Sally begins to cry. Adult sees/hears this interaction take place, and makes Harry walk back over to Sally and give her her toy and dictates, "Harry, tell Sally that you're sorry." From previous babysitting experiences and general observation of friends/families engaging with their own children, I saw this scenario play out numerous times in my life. While there's not any absolute here, and not necessarily anything (again) wrong, it's just not what BH, or now myself as a parent, views as the most optimal usage of the word "sorry."
For what does this show Sally or Harry? That there is a word that rectifies all missteps taken place by our friends or colleagues? Or that there is a word that resolves any conflict without addressing the how's and why's of the situation? Basically. And it's just a cop-out essentially for the adult who observed said scenario and therefore believes that there is a word which needs no explanation or further input in shaping the children's growth and maturity levels for future conflicts.
Okay - this might be starting to look like a soapbox gone wrong. I've been experiencing the cringe however. The shoulder-raising-eye-squinting kind of cringe I imagine my mom must have first felt with me, as I have recently been hearing Elliot utter the words "I'm sorry" in circumstances that don't really need an apology. And don't get me wrong, I believe there is importance to the phrase, and using it can truly affect more positively a situation that is unsafe, truly hurtful, or may need empathy. I don't doubt that all words carry sentiment, and "I'm sorry" is included. But when I am sitting on the couch watching Sesame Street with Elle, while feeding Oliver and checking Facebook like an asshole, and then hear "I'm sorry Mama" from sweet Elliot who has accidentally spilled her bowl of grapes. I cringe. I actually tear up (has happened already), and say, "Elliot, you don't need to be sorry, it's okay." Then I put down my phone and try to be present with what has happened. How many times has she heard me or Mike say "I'm sorry" for the all the silly things in life? How often have I negotiated my way out of a hard task in front of her by saying "I'm sorry." Old habits. This is what I am getting at. Yours will be different than mine, and mine is "I'm sorry." I wear it on my sleeve, and Elle has caught on, thinking: "If I say this I am forgiven; if I say these words I won't be hated." Ughhh - not my proudest parenting moment so far.
And so, I work on now really listening to her as best as I am able, and if I hear this phrase under wishy-washy terms, I look her in the eyes and say, "how come you are sorry?" Someday - and probably soon - I will likely get more of a reaction or response back from that question than a blink-blink and furrowed brow. But what I am offering here is a chance for her to process the why. She doesn't need to be sorry for accidentally spilling grapes. And I want to be able to process that out with her. She can be sorry for the circumstances as mentioned prior, i.e. safety (breaking a toy in half), hurtful (hitting her brother), empathy (supporting a friend - "I'm sorry your grandmother died"). But Elle can choose. As I am sure all of you choose certain things. I have family members that choose not to say "Bless you" when someone sneezes, for example. The words/phrase doesn't carry the same weight for them as it does many others.
*Do note, by the way, Elliot is also in a daycare setting of her own three days a week, and Mike and I have observed individually from time to time at pick-up or drop-off there is often encouragement by teachers to the students of, "say sorry child X to child Y for issue ABC." I get it. It happens. And thankfully it's not just my old habit that is affecting her. No, the eternal struggle of nature/nurture/causal effects come into play here. I just hope that as we parent, in addition to all of the kids' external factors, they remember that reflecting on why and how they are apologizing is as important as the "sorry" itself. Hopefully whatever our kids' old habit is won't carry a negative connotation, but a mindful one.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
upside down spring cleaning
....or in other words, a fall mess-around? Just trying to say that this time of year, akin to the second quarter, always reminds me to 'clean house.' No, not just because I am home with the kiddos/newborn for a couple extra months, looking into the face of everything dirty/rotten/wrong with the house. And all in all that's not too long of a list, really. My particular hygienic preferences for the home has followed me since childhood, and dear Mike has also succumbed now to keeping things in a very certain way. He even gets mad when I do the laundry. It's never the way he likes it :)
I suppose there shouldn't be just once or twice a year that we organize the living space. But of course, as with anyone else, life happens. And while both hubs and I would prefer the kitchen table's occupants only to include meals, placemats, and wine glasses and so we make great strides to keep it clutter-less (is there such a thing?), there is a plethora of other chores/oddities among our house I lovingly ignore, re: DUSTING. There is in fact many a cobweb I can see from the very chair in which I write; and even though their heavy population makes me cringe, I still deny myself and our family's overall health by not swiftly wiping them away. Difficult? No. Time consuming? Possibly. Worth the effort? I find it hard to believe...
We also try in our house to go by the 'one-in-one-out rule.' Mainly with regards to clothes, but I suppose other things as well. You know, you go shopping for yourself at one or two - or fifteen - of your favorite stores in a given afternoon, and then come home with a wardrobe you didn't realize was missing. So, it's best in our minds to try and swap out blouse for blouse, shorts for shorts, that kind of thing. We recycle most of the castaways to any given clothing donation bin, albeit it probably ideal for us to research a local, charitable hub or consignment store, or even sell the darn things. (My neighbor does this for herself to feel fashionably fresh and make a buck - genius!) Said current donation bag is sitting in our master bedroom at the moment. And yet, just with Mike's things. Less a couple pairs of shoes I knew would fit despite lingering post-baby weight. Surely not trying to rush that process, although wouldn't I love it? Feeling lovely enough just finding time to sit and type a moment in the middle of daylight. (Why aren't I napping with him?!) Yes, my clothes, especially work clothes, need a revamp. But I can't find it in my heart - or my waist - to recycle anything just yet. Isn't it true when you stare at a favorite pair of pants they'll shift magically into the size and shape of your present body form? No? Just a dream I had?
Well, I went to a recent work event, an Oktoberfest fundraiser, and got to see some coworkers and throw back a (much-deserved) beer. Was a great reminder that adult stimulation is amazing no matter how I look or feel about how I look. Just being able to stand up for two hours without holding a 10lb or 35lb dead-weight and discuss anything outside of nursery rhymes and sleep deprivation (although naturally the first things parents and I connected on was nursery rhymes and sleep deprivation) was pretty spectacular. Hope to get out again soon. Maybe even a date night with the husband??
Such a transition our family has gone through in the last six weeks. Today marks one of those glorious days on which I can say it's generally a happy time. Most of the hours until this point have been fine...but of course, challenging. Lucky are we to have so many close friends undergoing the same struggles. It's nice not to have to brave a face for anyone (although it is a poor habit/specialty of mine). When things suck (and they can suck), at least then we can commiserate with others about how much they suck until they suck less by way of a shared mutuality. Poetic, huh?
Okay, not my "cleanest" submission. A tad scattered. And I'm breaking my one-in-one-out rule - just adding to the virtual pile. But more to come I am sure, in sanity and chaos, I'll try to keep you posted!
Such a transition our family has gone through in the last six weeks. Today marks one of those glorious days on which I can say it's generally a happy time. Most of the hours until this point have been fine...but of course, challenging. Lucky are we to have so many close friends undergoing the same struggles. It's nice not to have to brave a face for anyone (although it is a poor habit/specialty of mine). When things suck (and they can suck), at least then we can commiserate with others about how much they suck until they suck less by way of a shared mutuality. Poetic, huh?
Okay, not my "cleanest" submission. A tad scattered. And I'm breaking my one-in-one-out rule - just adding to the virtual pile. But more to come I am sure, in sanity and chaos, I'll try to keep you posted!
Sunday, September 7, 2014
O is for Oliver
We welcomed our lil' man into the family on Labor Day (how 'punny') and are well on our way now to reminiscing and reexperiencing the (lofty) joys of sleep deprivation, hunger, and two-way disputes over who has higher emotional turmoil. Ahhh, a newborn...
But on the other, primary, and very notable side, it brings us the utmost warmth to expand our family. In literal and figurative contexts, this next chapter of our foursome is one way we will continue to spread love across our immediate and extended families & friends. It would be difficult to not feel this way, but I admit, I had been combatting several different nerves surrounding this expansion throughout the pregnancy, and not just by way of the adding a second child to the mix, but adding a child period. The whole process again with a young one: eat-sleep-diaper-repeat; feeling inadequate in the precept of generating a positive mother-baby bond; resenting the fact that my husband cannot lactate but breastfeeding is our preference; crying over the fact that I know my husband is an incredibly devoted caretaker and is my savior in just being there; and ultimately lamenting over my (chronic) guilt about money. Ahhh, parenting...
Each one makes it (or fakes it until they make it) in their own way, and so the said nervous ticks may not resonate with you. I think what any new parent deals with the most is questioning. Questioning so much about their choices, their relationship, their physical and mental states. And now because of the addition of a second, questioning anything from the first time - from yourself and all the other damn parties involved. Deliriously delirious, but happy, so much conflicting information makes its way to you in the first hours and days after the babe arrives. We go about it at a hospital, where there are many nurses, consultants, and services; with an OB practice that has several physicians; with a pediatric practice (same as the OBGYN). At least everyone's on the same page, right? Nope. Not with everything and actually I realized this time, not with a lot of things. All the little nuggets of mixed advice can create a steady increase in becoming more tearful and fearful. "Feed him this many times a day/No this many times," "Sleep when he sleeps/Get shit done," "Do you want the flu vaccine for yourself now?/Eh, get it done later." Note: head spinning.
Fortunately, we are sitting pretty at home now, beyond those first three days of it all and the medical check-ins. And I get to sit here on the couch and blog about our familial shift while my cocoa bean and newest peanut nap not just soundly but simultaneously. Not everything will be so sweet as this very moment, and we certainly will be lathered in more questions from others as we go, but at least I can write with more awareness that not all questions/suggestions carry the same weight or merit. Oliver after all is a natural, formidable being who will root when he is hungry, close his eyes when he is tired, and sooner rather than later ask me questions himself for which I'll be held responsible to answer.
But on the other, primary, and very notable side, it brings us the utmost warmth to expand our family. In literal and figurative contexts, this next chapter of our foursome is one way we will continue to spread love across our immediate and extended families & friends. It would be difficult to not feel this way, but I admit, I had been combatting several different nerves surrounding this expansion throughout the pregnancy, and not just by way of the adding a second child to the mix, but adding a child period. The whole process again with a young one: eat-sleep-diaper-repeat; feeling inadequate in the precept of generating a positive mother-baby bond; resenting the fact that my husband cannot lactate but breastfeeding is our preference; crying over the fact that I know my husband is an incredibly devoted caretaker and is my savior in just being there; and ultimately lamenting over my (chronic) guilt about money. Ahhh, parenting...
Each one makes it (or fakes it until they make it) in their own way, and so the said nervous ticks may not resonate with you. I think what any new parent deals with the most is questioning. Questioning so much about their choices, their relationship, their physical and mental states. And now because of the addition of a second, questioning anything from the first time - from yourself and all the other damn parties involved. Deliriously delirious, but happy, so much conflicting information makes its way to you in the first hours and days after the babe arrives. We go about it at a hospital, where there are many nurses, consultants, and services; with an OB practice that has several physicians; with a pediatric practice (same as the OBGYN). At least everyone's on the same page, right? Nope. Not with everything and actually I realized this time, not with a lot of things. All the little nuggets of mixed advice can create a steady increase in becoming more tearful and fearful. "Feed him this many times a day/No this many times," "Sleep when he sleeps/Get shit done," "Do you want the flu vaccine for yourself now?/Eh, get it done later." Note: head spinning.
Fortunately, we are sitting pretty at home now, beyond those first three days of it all and the medical check-ins. And I get to sit here on the couch and blog about our familial shift while my cocoa bean and newest peanut nap not just soundly but simultaneously. Not everything will be so sweet as this very moment, and we certainly will be lathered in more questions from others as we go, but at least I can write with more awareness that not all questions/suggestions carry the same weight or merit. Oliver after all is a natural, formidable being who will root when he is hungry, close his eyes when he is tired, and sooner rather than later ask me questions himself for which I'll be held responsible to answer.
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