Practical Magic: Conjuring More Beautiful Bedtimes with my Daughter

Saying goodnight to my daughter is always, um, an adventure.

Some nights she is sugar and spice, sweetness and light; while fairy dust floats in the air, her pudgy little hands pull me down for more kisses!

Smooch, smooch, kiss, kiss, peck, peck...

"100 kisses, Mommy!"

Rapid fire kisses, machine style.

"That's 99 kisses, Mama..."

"So one more, huh?"

"Yep. 99 is next to 100. So one more kisses."

One more kiss to end her day with smiles and love.

Feeling that warm glow? I try and hold onto those gauzy golden memories...

Because the reality is most nights end with so much screaming and so many tears you'd think this child was being beaten instead of being put into a nightgown.

One night, a bad mix of overtired and distraught, my girl was in full-on tantrum mode, screaming, crying, flailing.

Finally, when nothing else was working, I blew in her face. Not sharply, mind you, more like a gentle breeze.

And she stopped crying just long enough to crack a smile.

Suddenly we were back to our very early days. My girl, who never wanted to sleep in her crib alone, and me, who just needed her to sleep so I could sleep too.

"You know," I told her, "you used to cry when you were a baby. Nothing I did would help. One night I was so tired - I cried too! Then, with noting left to do, I blew softly on your face and you smiled. 

Just like this... 

And even if you start up again - in that moment your smile gives us both hope.

Your brief smile reminds you that you CAN smile again.

But it reminds me that I can find a way to help you smile.

As long as we know that we can be sure we can get through the tough times...

That is what hope is."

Mommy Said Yes!!

It was a morning like so many others. 

My son woke up before sunrise. His heavy footfalls on the bunk bed steps would probably wake me anyway, but amplified by the monitor that still sits by my bedside, he sounds like a small elephant crashing through any dream world I might be in. True to form, he barrels into our bedroom, bounding onto my side of the bed, bouncing on his knees, exclaiming, “Look Mom! It’s the sunrise! The Sun is rising! So NOW we can make cupcakes, right?! Now we can make the chocolate cupcakes with the sprinkles?!”

Just the day before, Friday, we had played out this scene: word for word and bounce for sleep crushing bounce. Except, of course, then I had said no. Or more precisely, “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me, dude! No. Way."

Seriously, on a school day?! I liked his teachers, why would I send them a spastic kiddo high on a breakfast of cupcakes? 

As a way to stem the whining that started at the exact moment I uttered the dreaded N-O, I allowed as how we didn’t have the ingredients anyway. It was a half day, so maybe we would go after school and pick them up. 

While Boy continued to bop on and off the bed, my uncaffinated brains sifted through the promises from Friday afternoon: made & then broken. 

A good report from school meant we had gone to the store, he had picked the cake & frosting, but no cupcakes had been made. Chaos had erupted, then time-outs that turned into very late & long naps nixed those Funtime Friday cupcakes plans. New promises of cupcakes for breakfast were made to stem the flow of tears when he woke up and learned we would not have sweets for dinner. 

Times like this I question my choices as a parent. Specifically why am I not a bait and switch parent? Why am I not like my husband who says “if you behave now maybe we can go for ice cream later” knowing damn well he will never do it. Because there are times he simply wants some fecking peace, so he will say, “Yeah, we can do that,” rather than dealing with the WhyNotButPleaseLetMe meltdowns. 

Nope, not me. At some point I found it easier for me to do what I tell the Rebels I will do. Which sometimes bites me in booty. Like, say, at the crack of dawn on a Saturday when I should be dreaming about baked goods, not debating baking them. 

Now of course shite happens, plans change, or (like with the FridayFunday cupcake chaos) behavior warrants punishment or loss of special treats, etc. But if I say yes, I intend to follow through. Which boils down to me saying a lot of NOs. No, you cannot have that toy/sweet/movie/sparkly-cool-object-of-desire right NOW. 

As one does, I try to frame the answers as possibilities. We cannot go the zoo today, but we should be able to go next week.

Still I know what my kiddos hear sound an awful lot like the adults in Charlie Brown cartoons: Whaawaa. Whaaawaaa? No, no, nonononono…

So if I was silly enough to say yes last night, you bet your fudge-flavored frosting we are having chocolate fecking cupcakes for breakfast!

Grabbing a hold of my TiggerBoy I exclaimed, "Yes. Yes, that’s what I said last night, right? Of course we will make them this morning!” 

I might not have had coffee in me, but I did have my wits enough to follow up to get a bit of wiggle room, “But, I need to take care of a few things first.”

Coffee made, kitchen tidied, laundry rotated, bakeware (unused since our recent move) found, washed, and set up. And then…

There were CUPCAKES!! 

Cupcakes for Saturday breakfast. 

Yeah, it was sweet. Even if there was still the moment when I had to cut the Boy off from eating the 5th (or was it 6th?) cupcake. 

However I hope when my Rebels are no longer little kiddos they remember that sometimes we had cupcakes for breakfast, for no reason at all. 

None, that is, except that they asked, and Mommy said “Yes!" 

*Fanfare trumpets may or may not have been blown. But silly selfies were most certainly taken*

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Good News/Bad News

So... it's been a Good News/Bad News kind of a day in Toddlerville.

• Good News: #Frankenfoot got her stitches out & that means I'm just a day or so away from a full on proper shower (with Hubs standing by)! Everything is healing really well & the x-rays look super good. 
• Bad News: Because everything looks so nice & I'm doing a great job at taking care of it the doc wants me to stay on the #StupidCrutches the full 4 weeks. That means I can stop using them at home on May 1st (if I fudge by 36 hours). And then, maybe, after the visit to her the following Tuesday (May 6th) I can lose the crutches all together.

• Good News: Walking (hopping) home from the doctor I got to see all the lovely Spring flowers. Including these daffodils, which are one of my all time favorite of flowers. 
• Bad News: When I got to my building I was knocked off my crutches & nearly fell down the steps to the sidewalk by someone who was trying to be kind. So I was nearly killed by kindness. 

• Good News: I waited in the lobby to see Hubs & he agreed to pick up a venti frap on his way back from the grocery store so I could drown my sorrows. 
• Bad News: When I got into the apartment my kids were clearly tired but keyed up; no one was listening.  In utter frustration I sent them for quiet time over an hour early. 

I want to cry. I'm tired of not being able to do anything. I don't want to keep hopping around like a manic flamingo. My kids and my Hubs are sick of it too. We all have Spring Fever, and we want to go roll in the grass like happy puppies. 

Here's the thing; days like today I don't want to be the parent. I want to be the child. I want my mother to bring me a special treat - like orange juice & ginger ale - and coloring books. And sit with me and watch old movies. I want my dad to go to the grocery store to pick up something fun for dinner & see flowers or balloons or a stuffed toy that he picks up to make me smile - just to make his little girl feel better. 

But Mom's been gone 10 years now. And Daddy lives in Texas, while I'm up here in the Big Apple. The reality is that I'm the Mommy now. My little people need me to be the grown-up. 

It is difficult, sometimes, to look on the bright side. Even though I know it is only another 10-14 days. Even though I know this is nothing compared to other struggles, including those I've gone through before. I know this mood, this moment will pass. I will buck up, pull up my big girl pants and get over myself. Any minute now...

God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the Courage to change the things I can, and the Wisdom to know the difference.

Wishing Well for Amy

Yesterday was my little Winter Girl's 2nd birthday. I really can't believe it was only 2 years ago, and at the same time I can't believe she's already 2. Time is funky like that, isn't it?

Along the same flying timelines (see what I did there?), I have a very dear friend - let's call her Amy - who is nearing the end of her first pregnancy. Note: Although, we've been friends nearly 3 decades, and we were in our double digits when we met, I am NOT saying she's an OLD friend. We shall now skip past the various paradoxes this brings up regarding time & age & my memory.

So Amy lives way the shite up in Alaska these days. This made a traditional baby shower with her friends and family who are down in the Lower 48 a bit more than problematic. But in this age of social media, everyone can be gathered into a group on ye olde Facebook to participate in some of the silly & sweet that goes into showering a new mommy & baby with love.

One of the things we "guests" were asked to do was fill in the following phrases with our wishes for the baby. Honestly though, my first thoughts were all my wishes for Amy, as she joins the ranks of New Moms. Some are things that were passed on to me in the last 4 years, some are frankly things I'm still working on for myself.

While I wrote these words for her, I am fairly certain Amy won't mind my sharing.

I hope you love... every minute of being a mom. Chances are you might not though, heaven knows I don't always. In those moments know you are not alone & it's OK. Ya know what they say: Parenthood is the best job there is - but the hours suck and the bosses really are just whiny little tyrants.
I also hope you love wine, because, well, look up mommy and wine on Pinterest. You'll get the idea.

I hope you learn... to sometimes be selfish. This is so much easier said than done, at least for me. Even harder not to be guilty about it. But you need time off. To yourself. Alone. So schedule it for yourself - a few minutes every day if you can, a few hours every week. Exercise, read, soak in a shower or tub, go have your toes done, hide in the kitchen and surf the internet watching cat videos. Time for YOU will make all the difference.

I hope you ignore... the unread mail, the piles of laundry, the dirty bathroom, and all the other chores for a long time. Particularly the first few months. Always remember you just GREW a person. Inside you. Then had it pulled out of you. Trust me, your body needs a wee bit of time, or like 6 months, to recover from that experience. In the meantime, that little person you grew is still looking to you to take care of it. You have plenty to do feeding & bathing the 2 of you. For the love of all that is right and holy -  the dishes and laundry and vacuuming can damn well wait for someone else to do it.

I hope you aren't afraid to follow your instincts, your mother's intuition, your heart. No one on the Earth will ever know your baby like you do. There are lots of places out there to seek advice, and lots of folks who will give it. I've got the greatest pediatrician on the planet. She is no nonsense, no drama & is extremely supportive of me as a parent & in trusting my gut. This gave me immeasurable confidence. So I will pass along her wisdom: Listen to your inner voice. You will know what is right for you & your baby & your family. Do that.

Likewise, I hope you aren't afraid to ask for help if you need it. Particularly when you feel like you don't know what you're doing, that you cannot do what you think your baby needs, or that you just can't handle it - please say that out loud & until someone hears you.
Maybe more importantly - don't be afraid or ashamed to accept the help. Four years and 2 kids into my parenting gig & this is probably my greatest struggle. No, no one is going to do whatever it is the way you probably think it should get done. Take a deep breath & just be OK with that.

I hope you grow to be the mother you always wanted to be. You are still amazing even if you find you became another mommy altogether. Expectations are funny things - at least for me. They often get in the way of my seeing the beauty of reality, because it's not what I envisioned.

I hope you laugh at how absurd being a parent is. I hope you laugh even as you are crying in frustration. I hope you laugh when your kid does something SO outrageous you want to scream. I hope you laugh when the baby poops on the shirt you just put on, or throws up down your back 5 minutes after the first shower you've managed to have in 3 days. I hope you laugh at yourself, a lot. I honestly believe you have to laugh at yourself or you'll cry your eyes out. Me, I usually do both at the same.

I hope you remember every moment & cherish them... Oh Hell NO. Please don't do that. Why do people even say that? "Remember these times, they are so precious. They grow so fast, hold onto every second." Yeah, don't bother. For one thing entire months are a flipping blur & seriously, a lot of it you'll be happy to forget. Unless you're really into bodily fluids, maybe. Me, not so much.
Instead, when the those sweet, funny, remarkable, sunlit, beautiful & otherwise perfect moments happen - take a mental picture. If it stays all gauzy and you have the time, then go grab the camera. But first, lock it in your mind. I promise you, when the roller coaster car is flying off the rails, you'll remember - and be able to laugh.

I hope you believe... You're already an outstanding mommy.