Potential

I watch my boys with wide eyes. The way they dance, sing, imagine, draw, play, I truly believe they can do amazing things as they get older. To me, they are brilliant and I can’t imagine that they will ever stop being so. My question is, how do I ingrain that in them and leverage all that wonder? Did my parents think the same about me? Do you think the same about your children? At what point do they stop believing this is true? At what point do they see too many obstacles before them and give up on their dreams? Isn’t it our responsibility to make sure that doesn’t happen? Or do we just arm them as best as possible and then release them to find things out on their own?

As you can see, I am doing a lot of reflection. I am typing this and the questions I raise bring me back to when I was a child and I was excelling in gymnastics. I was 11, already teaching the toddler class and yet I was too scared to compete. My parents gave me an ultimatum- compete or quit. I chose the latter and think about that decision all the time. Could I make such a big decision at 11? Should my parents have pushed me harder? It was like that with piano, singing, acting… all things I loved. As soon as it got challenging or I got rejected, I quit. I can see my parents not wanting to force me into something, but is there a middle ground where you coax and massage your child into making it through the rough patches? I wonder if great leaders parent’s pushed them through the rough patches or allowed their children to explore, and fail, at a lot of things without ever pushing once. (I am sure there are many books about this, feel free to recommend.)

In the meantime, I will love, encourage, expose and even push a little to make sure my boys get the most out of their endless potential.

Showing off my boys

I have so many blog posts in the works, but I have been so busy that I have to wait a little longer before posting something more substantial. However, I will always find time to show off my boys!

Caleb loves to be like his daddy! And, if I do say so myself, he is awesome! His showmanship and rythm make him a natural. Can’t a mama be proud?!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=btRvrPb5hJA

Caleb is always the one dancing around. Then, out of the blue while we did some winter cleaning to prepare for Christmas decorating, Noah pulled out , what I would say is, a full on ballet performance. He cracked me up!! Go Noah!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v12UusYOxVQ

Finally, you will see our holiday card. These pics were taken from the photoshoot we got done over the summer. Priceless.

Be back soon!

Treasures in my dryer

Caleb began ”collecting” things in his pockets. It first started about 6 months ago when he would bring small plastic insects home from school. “Where did these come from, baby?” “Nowhere,” he would say… “Are these from school?” …”Yes.” And the next day we would take them to school and put them back in their container. Following the insects there were crayons, small pieces of paper, and rocks. His most recent pocket collection was acorns. His new school has a big, beautiful backyard with large trees and LOTS of acorns. One day he came home with no less than 20 acorns in his pockets.

(All of this has been very cute and innocent until he came  home with a decorative coin from a gift shop in Maplewood. I actually had to call the owner to let her know that we’d be coming in with the confiscated item… Caleb handed over the coin very remorsefully and has not taken anything since.)

That doesn’t mean he does not still fill his pockets with all things little. When I emptied the dryer last night, there was a rock at the bottom and as I put it into the container on top of the dryer where I put such things, I had to laugh:

• 71 cents in quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies.
• 3 small rocks.
• 1 small Lincoln Log
• 2 plastic “pirate” coins
• 1 token for Kidz Villiage
• 1 plastic dollar bill
• 2 acorns
• 1 plastic tasting spoon from Coldstone Creamery
• 1 crayon (caught that on in the washer before it did any damage)
• 1 red jewel (the kind used in craft projects)
• two balls of dried up paper or tissue
• 1/2 of a plastic easter egg
• 1 plastic train thingy from some toy I am sure we no longer have

I have to tell you, these are the things I treasure. Like fingerprints on the windows, little drawings on scraps of paper, and matchbox cars hiding in the covers of my bed.

Fire in my veins

UPDATE: FOUND THIS USEFUL LITTLE TOOLKIT: http://www.angermgmt.com/angertoolkit.asp

I thought to ask Caleb, my 4-year-old, the other day, “What things in life do you not like?” and immediately he said “I don’t like when you get angry.” UGH, I am an asshole.

Jeff often says to me “You have fire in those veins, woman!” Listen, I am the first one to admit that I have a hot head. Perhaps it’s because I am (or used to be) a red head or maybe it’s because my dad had a bad temper and I learned from him. In any case, I don’t handle my anger well and when there are two screaming kids, dinner to make, and milk spilled all over the floor for the 3rd time in an hour, I tend to lose it. By lose it, I mean my face gets red, my eyes bulge out of my head and I scream at the top of my lungs like a lunatic.

I have made some strides over the past 4 years. I have learned to put myself in a timeout when I feel my internal temperature rise or  sometimes I start talking like a Stepford wife and deliver a calmer line like ”Caleb, climb into your car seat right now or you are going to get a big timeout”  with a smile and a fake affect on my voice that tones down what I really want to be saying “CALEB GET INTO THE CAR SEAR NOOOOOOWWWWWW.”  Still, sometimes, the devil comes out and I swear my head is going to spin right around my neck and vomit will start spewing from my mouth.

I like to think I am an educated woman. I read parenting books like The Wonder of Boys and Parenting with Love and Logic; I get parenting magazines and share discipline stories at playgroup; I have a therapist and, of course, have started blogging and using the hula as meditation. I have also learned that yelling and screaming DOES NOT WORK (of course, it has an immediate effect- the crying pauses and it sure does let off a lot of the steam- but then the crying gets louder, the milk is still on the floor and dinner is still not made) and still I let the anger take me over and I am ALWAYS embarrassed after.

There really is no conclusion to this post as I continue to struggle with getting my emotions under control. Perhaps I need to find an anger management class or maybe I should take up wrestling (does G.L.O.W. still exist?) as an outlet… Suggestions welcome.

Vacation Bliss

While debating on where to spend our summer vacation, my friend Lisa mentioned to me that she and her family were headed to Cape Cod for a week. “I have never been there,” I said, and the plan was set in motion- we would join the Renwick’s for a week in Bewster, MA. After much coordinating on which house to stay at, what food to bring, etc. we finally arrived in, what I call, heaven.

The house was perfect for what we needed- four bedrooms, a couple of common spaces, an outdoor shower, and a grill! The beaches, the Unitarian church that held daily children’s shows, and the ice-cream shop were all within a 5 minutes drive. We went bike riding and swimming, we went to a zoo and miniature golfing. We adults even went out to a nice dinner one night (thanks to Lisa’s sister). Oh, and did I mention that Lisa and I saw Arnold Schwarzenegger in Hyannis for his MIL’s funeral? 

All the while I thought to myself how can I make this last forever? Watching the kids play all day, napping in the early afternoon with Noah, eating well and spending time with my family and good friends… what more could I want? The answer- the financial means to allow me to live like this every day of my life. Of course, I would probably gain 50lbs from all of the ice-cream, but I could live with that! (You wouldn’t mind, would you Jeff?)

Hula Hoop to Happiness

I went to Philly on Friday night for a pre-30th birthday celebration for my brother, Bobby. It was very nice to spend some alone time with him and his fiance’, Michel. We had a wonderful Thai dinner, played a little “Group Therapy” and then headed to an art exhibit in West Philly. When we got there, it was a little surreal. The installation included thousands of plastic bottles as well as litter and sludge from the Schuylkill River in plastic bags. After the appropriate amount of reflection, we decided it was time to head home. As we walked towards the exit, however, we noticed a dark room with music and flashing lights (a dance party of some sort??). Quickly we realized that people were not dancing, but hula hooping!

Being that I have two small children, I have had the opportunity to hula on several occasions over the past couple of years and every time I get it going for about 2.1 seconds before it drops to my ankles and I walk away feeling defeated by a piece of plastic. The room we walked into, however, felt like a safe enough place to try it again (it was almost pitch black) and Michel and Bobby were up for it (besides the fact that several other people were struggling so I felt like I wasn’t going to be the only one looking like a hula fool).

Michel got it going and, man, did she looked like a pro. OK, I thought, I have to represent for the Riders (as my brother got the thing around 1 time before it fell). I got it up and started gyrating my hips like I was having sex for the first time- clumsy and something NO ONE SHOULD SEE. People filtered in and out of the room and I watched as each participant either got it or didn’t. I was making progress but instead of 2.1 seconds I was up to about 10 (hey, not bad I thought!).

A girl walked in and announced that she was terrible before picking up the hoop and moving in a way that no human should. She did this about 4 or 5 times before this geeky looking guy said to her “I was never good at doing this either, and then someone told me that the point is not to convulse all over the place, but to concentrate fully on very small movements.” “WOW! Great advice”, I thought. Then I looked over and Bobby was totally doing it!! He looked like he was in some kind of zen state. Michel caught onto it too and soon the three of us were having a sort-of meditative hula experience!

I think we stayed for about a 1/2 hour seeing how long we could keep it going and each of us could sustain at least 10 minutes at a time. I was feeling super relaxed and my mind was more clear than it had been in months. On the walk home, we discussed the therapeutic quality of the movement and concentration and agreed that we would each hula for 10 minutes several times a week at 7:00 pm so that we would be motivated to do it and, perhaps, share energy in the meantime (have I lost you yet?!).

I called Jeff today to ask him to pick up an adult-sized, weighted hula hoop at Dick’s and kicked off the first night of the hula-meditation. I have meditated  on and off for years and have always struggled to clear my mind. I realize it’s a practice, but I never felt like concentrating on my breathing (silent, eyes closed or open) or following a guided meditation worked for me. While I was in that dark room with only my own rhythm, I realized that I need a more active kind of meditation. Hula hooping forces you to get in touch with your internal rhythm and challenges your concentration and physical being. As soon as you start to drift into thought, you can feel the hula dropping and you have to pull yourself back. The 10 minutes passed by faster than I expected and I was disappointed when it was time to stop.

Have I discovered a way to find silence and peace in my day? Could it be as easy as HULA HOOPING??? Hey, it’s just the first day, but I will let you know!!!

Why?

It seems that Caleb, who is now 3 1/2,  has learned the oh-so-dreaded question- why? For the past two weeks he has relentlessly asked Jeff and I, “Why, mommy?” “Why, daddy?” and I have to say, it’s been pretty challenging keeping up with him. Just today he asked, “Mommy, why do those rocks on the side of the road have nets on them?” “Because they don’t want the rocks to fall on the cars.” “Why do some rocks not have nets on them?” Because they haven’t blasted them so they are still solid.” “Why do the rocks fall down?” “Because when they blast the rock, all of the little pieces become loose.” “Why?” “Because it shakes them up.” “Why?” “The blasting compromises the integrity of the rock so they need to put a net on so the rocks don’t smash the cars, OK??” “Why?” Arrrggggg…..

 I have to say, unless I am entrenched in something or have something pressing on my mind, it doesn’t bother me to answer his questions and, frankly, it makes me think in a way I normally wouldn’t. Why DO we have to be nice to strangers? Why DO we have to be good boys and girls? Why DO we have to get gas in our car? The chatter goes beyond the practical and into the philosophical. I start to talk about harmony and love and peace and karma and the environment and technology and nature. Since this “why-fest” began, I have been asking myself “why?” in my friendships, relationships, work, and every day dealings with people and it has really made me think about life a little differently.

Jeff and I have decided to have a contest to see how many times we can answer his questions before we tell him “that’s why” or “I don’t know” without making up something outlandish. We’ll see how it goes. Next time a child asks you “why,” see how far you can go before saying “that’s why” and let me know about it!!!

Na Na Na Na Naaaa

I used to think that saying “Na Na Na Na Na” was fresh, but somehow, I think Noah can get away with it. The quality of the video is not great, but you can get the point!

Quality Time

Last week Jeff asked me what we had planned for the weekend. “Nothing, actually,” I replied, which is unusual. “Let’s go camping with the boys,” he said. And so the plan was put in motion. First, a trip to Dick’s (Campmor is closed on Sundays, unfortnately) to purchase a 6 person tent, a new lantern, new headlamps, etc. Next, the reservation for car camping in Promiseland State Park in PA.

Friday came and we packed the car with all of our gear- plus food, books, toys and Cindy (Noah’s baby)- and we were off. The traffic getting there was terrible and I could feel my nerves tighten. Caleb had to go poopy and, even though I reminded him that he doesn’t like to go on the side of the road, he insisted. Of course we pulled over in the rain and I put his potty seat on my squatted legs while he sat on it attempting to poo. Nothing… Back in the car and then, silence. The boys were fast asleep and my nerves calmed. I began to enjoy the ride and the idea that soon we would be surrounded by trees and enveloped in fresh air.

We arrived in Promiseland (I love the name) at 8:30 p.m., which is bedtime, and the boys were a bit disoriented. Jeff and I got the tent up as quickly as possible, blew up the air mattresses, made the beds and we all fell sleep with little fuss (except for the people behind us talking and laughing until 12 am.).

The next morning we woke and something different happened- we didn’t put on the TV. We laid in bed talking and reading books until quiet hours were almost over. We went to a zoo, we took walks around camp, we hiked in the woods, we did puzzles, we talked and laughed and roasted marshmallows. Ahhhh…. quality time. Real, uninterrupted quality time. No one calling, no TV, no email just us.

That night, again, we all went to bed without incident and woke in the morning ready to pack up and head home. We stopped at a playground and went to a beach before taking the long drive home. As I watched the trees whiz by I thought- all we really need is food, shelter, fire and eachother- why go back?? I fell asleep from the lull of the car with a smile on my face thinking about the next time we would go camping.

Dentist Nightmare

Today was the second worst experience I have had with Caleb and a medical issue. The first was when he was just 2-years-old. He was running and fell and required 15 stiches in his hand. He was in so much pain and he was so scared and I had to let the doctors do thier jobs in order to make him better. It killed me that I could not just pick him up and hold him and make it all better. I will never forget it.

This second experience happened at the dentist today. I have never had dental issues, knock on wood. At 34, I don’t have any cavities and never wore braces- the worst thing I have is a baby tooth that’s hanging on for dear life. Jeff, however, has a mouthful of cavities and wore braces for several years.  Jeff’s experience has caused him to fear going to the dentist while mine has left me feeling relaxed when I go- looking forward to a cleaning. Hence, today was most traumatizing.

At Caleb’s first dentist appointment, all was going well. Caleb opened his mouth wide and the dental hygienist did a cleaning. Casually, I asked her if everything looked good and she said that ever-dreaded line, “The Dr. will be in to examine him more closely.” UGH. When the dentist came in, again, Caleb opened wide and felt like a big boy. The dentist used that sharp, pointy device and hmm’d and aahh’d and then told me that Caleb has two very decalcified teeth (immediately I thought- crap, I should have brushed his teeth better) that were probably caused by a fever as they were coming in (whew). “Not a huge deal,” he said, “but we will need to put a cap on one.” Great, I though, no cavities.

We went in today with books and toy blow torch in hand smiling and ready for a lil’ ole cap to be painlessly inserted over my son’s tooth. As we were sitting there, I thought to ask if he was going to get a n-e-e-d-l-e. The Dr. called it his sleepy juice (because your face falls asleep). He set him up to think it wasn’t going to hurt and that he would have magic powers when he was done. So he and the hygienist hold him down and put this huge needle into his mouth (after some lousy, ineffective numbing gel) and held it in for five LONG seconds. So a ton of screaming but Noah behaved and all they had to do next was pop that cap on. Right? Nope- they had to DRILL. So now Noah is crying, Caleb is kicking off his shoes and screaming “mama” while we were all holding him down. He starts coughing because he is crying so hard and the Dr. is telling him that he is going to count to three and then Caleb is going to be quiet. What?

Drilling done;  now all they have to do is pop the cap on. Right? Nope- they had to fit the cap so they hold him down again and try three or four caps before they find one that is just right. Now Caleb has vomited and Noah is being walked around the office by some nurse who could have kidnapped him for I was in such a tizzy. FINALLY, the cap was put on. The Dr. was still trying to tell Caleb to be quiet while I got my eye on Noah. I picked up both of my boys and the dentist said, “Caleb, do you want a sticker?” and I replied, “We are going to go outside and handle this ourselves.”

Three things went through my head as I carried them to the parking lot. 1. I never want to see my baby in pain like that again. 2. That Dr. was an asshole. 3. Why didn’t Jeff tell me it was like that!!!!!!!!