"Be afraid. Be very afraid."
For some reason, this is the phrase that is running on repeat through my brain right now. Not only is it coming up on Christmas, and not only is my husband overseas for this holiday season, but we are in the midst of some home renovations following a water loss. Within a few days, my three kids and myself are scheduled to be moved into a hotel while some of the repairs are done.
A hotel with no other adult to help me out with the three kids.
In the next town over.
In the middle of winter.
For two to four weeks.
So, maybe that's the reason I keep hearing that warning about being afraid dancing around in my head. We won't have a tree up (which is a major bummer to the kids), we'll have to drive back and forth THREE TIMES every day to our town to get the kids to and from school (one goes in the morning, one half-day) and we won't even have access to a washer and dryer of our own, or a stove (the only hotel we can stay at has nothing but a microwave and mini-fridge).
I'm wondering if anyone has any survival tips for us? How can I keep the kids from going nuts with boredom in the hotel for so long, while it's too cold to be outside, without overflowing the hotel room with a zillion toys from home? Oh and also, any tips for my sanity couldn't hurt either. :-)
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
10 Easy Ways to Show Your Kids You Care in 10 Minutes or Less
It can be so easy to get caught up in the day to day hustle and bustle of life and not take as many opportunities as we mean to take to let our kids know we enjoy being their parents. Here a few quick ways to remind your little ones of how much you care:
1. Offer to paint your daughter's toenails for her BEFORE she asks you to.
2. Have your son's army men all set up in formation when he gets home from school.
3. Show them the lock of hair you saved from their baby days.
4. Watch some videos on youtube and impress them with expert level shadow puppets.
5. Incorporate a Friday Night Pillow Fight.
6. Use cookie cutters to press their sandwiches into fun shapes.
7. Let them help you pump the gas.
8. Heat up their towels in the dryer right before they get out of the bathtub.
9. Make homemade playdough and let them use those cookie cutters on it.
10. Have an impromtu water balloon, snowball or leaf fight, depending on the season.
Feel free to add any ideas of your own!
1. Offer to paint your daughter's toenails for her BEFORE she asks you to.
2. Have your son's army men all set up in formation when he gets home from school.
3. Show them the lock of hair you saved from their baby days.
4. Watch some videos on youtube and impress them with expert level shadow puppets.
5. Incorporate a Friday Night Pillow Fight.
6. Use cookie cutters to press their sandwiches into fun shapes.
7. Let them help you pump the gas.
8. Heat up their towels in the dryer right before they get out of the bathtub.
9. Make homemade playdough and let them use those cookie cutters on it.
10. Have an impromtu water balloon, snowball or leaf fight, depending on the season.
Feel free to add any ideas of your own!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
When I Met You
When first we met,
I was surprised by your eyes
Not blue, as expected
But brown, like wished upon pennies
When we first met,
and They passed you to me
Your fingers, thin as telephone wire,
stretched just to curl 'round my pinky
When we first met,
the world dropped away,
lost importance, paling in contrast
to the inconcievable smallness of your nose
When we first met,
your mouth searched against my chest,
your hair, silky as spiderwebs,
floating across my neck
When we first met,
your Being stole my heart,
stopped my breath,
changed my world
But. . .
After we first met,
I didn't know
I believed the wrong people
I let them cut you
After we first met,
I was ignorant of the facts,
blinded my own good intentions
and misled by Those I Trusted
After we first met,
I never knew the scope of the apology I'd owe you,
the risks I exposed you to,
or what I was taking away
After we first met,
I made a mistake
and let you pay the balance
Without meaning to
And. . .
Since then when I met you,
I've kept you from harm,
I've celebrated your laughter
And comforted your little hurts
Since then when I met you,
You've never again cried without comfort,
been left tearfully lurching for an absent protection
you instinctively knew should have been there
Since then when I met you,
I've never again failed you so gravely,
never again cost you so dearly,
would never again let anyone cut you in any way
If. . .
I could go back to when I met you,
I'd protect every part of your Being
I'd erase the one time you were violated
I'd steal you away from Them
I'd grab myself by the shoulders
and not shy away from the apprehension
I let be silenced by Those I Trusted
I'd keep you close instead
I'd hold you at my heart where you belonged
I'd keep all of the joy and forego your pain
and the pain I'd carry later
and the scars I allowed us both to obtain
You've always been nothing but a light in my world
and I am so forever sorry I let some darkness into part of yours
I was surprised by your eyes
Not blue, as expected
But brown, like wished upon pennies
When we first met,
and They passed you to me
Your fingers, thin as telephone wire,
stretched just to curl 'round my pinky
When we first met,
the world dropped away,
lost importance, paling in contrast
to the inconcievable smallness of your nose
When we first met,
your mouth searched against my chest,
your hair, silky as spiderwebs,
floating across my neck
When we first met,
your Being stole my heart,
stopped my breath,
changed my world
But. . .
After we first met,
I didn't know
I believed the wrong people
I let them cut you
After we first met,
I was ignorant of the facts,
blinded my own good intentions
and misled by Those I Trusted
After we first met,
I never knew the scope of the apology I'd owe you,
the risks I exposed you to,
or what I was taking away
After we first met,
I made a mistake
and let you pay the balance
Without meaning to
And. . .
Since then when I met you,
I've kept you from harm,
I've celebrated your laughter
And comforted your little hurts
Since then when I met you,
You've never again cried without comfort,
been left tearfully lurching for an absent protection
you instinctively knew should have been there
Since then when I met you,
I've never again failed you so gravely,
never again cost you so dearly,
would never again let anyone cut you in any way
If. . .
I could go back to when I met you,
I'd protect every part of your Being
I'd erase the one time you were violated
I'd steal you away from Them
I'd grab myself by the shoulders
and not shy away from the apprehension
I let be silenced by Those I Trusted
I'd keep you close instead
I'd hold you at my heart where you belonged
I'd keep all of the joy and forego your pain
and the pain I'd carry later
and the scars I allowed us both to obtain
You've always been nothing but a light in my world
and I am so forever sorry I let some darkness into part of yours
Friday, September 17, 2010
Co-Attachment Parenting Through Divorce?
This will be a breif post but I appreciate as many comments as possible because I feel desperate for any ideas as to what to do.
I have only one neice (15 months old) whom I adore and am very close to. She has lived with me off and on and I have treated her in the same healthy, attached way as I always have my own three children. I don't think much is needed in the way of elaboration to stress how close I am to this little one for anyone who has ever loved a child!
My sister (her mother) hates the idea of anything "attachment parenting" related but due to my time with the two of them and providing insight as well as scientific studies to back it up, my sister gradually adapted to co-sleeping with my neice. I felt this was a huge victory. When DN (dear neice from here) was six months old, my sister and her husband split up and my sister plus her baby moved into my house for a couple of months.
While I was reading to my kids before bedtime in my husband's and my bedroom, I could hear my little sister in the room down the hall, crying and screaming at her six month old daughter to go to sleep in her playpen while the baby just wailed. Well, that was not going to happen in my house.
I flew down the hall and threw open the door. My little sister was sitting on the bed, head in her hands. My neice was lying on her back in her playpen, sobbing, with tears streaming down the sides of her face. I scooped her up and started to sway with her. She immediately tangled her fingers into my hair, and started to calm down, with shuddering sobs. My sister said she could not deal with the effort and time it took and was just too overwhelmed and I should place the baby back down and leave her to cry; that eventually, as she had every night for the past three months, DN would exhaust herself and stop crying.
Instead, with a million things I wanted to say but realized could wait until the next day, I offered to keep DN for the night in our bed, with our kids, and my sister could take a hot bath and get a good sleep. She accepted (I would not have let her decline!) and I took the little baby into bed with me. She woke up three times that night and I had her back to sleep within minutes, so long as I was holding onto her (she was long ago used to not feeding through the night due to being denied it) and snuggling with her.
The next day, my somewhat apologetic sister finally came downstairs toward noon, and thanked me for the extra sleep. She assumed I'd had none at all. I went on to explain to her why I had gotten sleep with few awakenings and why the baby hadn't been screaming and crying. My sister was finally willing to listen.
Over the next few weeks, I taught her as much as I could about the benefits of co-sleeping; how it is healthy and practical for baby and mother; why it is safe; where the bogus myths that it is a danger originated from; and how she could use co-sleeping to actually get some SLEEP without leaving DN to suffer in angst.
They were co-sleeping champs before long. Then something happened I did not see coming; overnight, she went back to her ex. He hated everyone in her family and we could barely see her. It was a highly abusive relationship. Without getting into the details (oh boy, there sure are many!) of that (maybe I'll save it for another post), DN's father insisted on putting her back into the crib. It didn't work so well this time. DN would be rocked to sleep, placed in the crib for a short while, and when she awoke in the night, my sister brought her into bed with them.
This routine lasted for several months. DN's father became more and more upset the longer it went on. His mother advocated the CIO method strongly. He couldn't see the harm in it (we came to find out LATER that when alone with DN, he and/or his mother were also double dosing DN on cold medication to make her pass out so they wouldn't have to 'deal with her').
The relationship between this man and my sister, however, did not last. He ended up leaving and it was just my sister with DN once more. They immediately went back to co-sleeping and it was a major success for them both.
Currently, there is a custody battle going on for DN. No matter what, the father will have overnights with her; he is upfront that he will stick her in an unfamiliar room in a crib-jail, turn off the light, shut the door, and just let her CIO.
My sister is horrified at the idea; I am DEVASTATED. There is nothing I can do-- is there? Has anyone else dealt with this? Is it possible to convince him to do otherwise? None of the information or tactics I've tried to take have made any difference to him.
I literally feel sick to my stomach with anxiety over picturing my neice, who is completely used to co-sleeping by now, being placed alone in a dark, scary, unfamiliar place and forced to cry herself to sleep, again and again and again with each visit.
Have you gone through this? Do you know anyone who has? Do you have an opinion on what will be/should be done/might happen?
Any comment/input/suggestion/story/experience is greatly appreciated!
I have only one neice (15 months old) whom I adore and am very close to. She has lived with me off and on and I have treated her in the same healthy, attached way as I always have my own three children. I don't think much is needed in the way of elaboration to stress how close I am to this little one for anyone who has ever loved a child!
My sister (her mother) hates the idea of anything "attachment parenting" related but due to my time with the two of them and providing insight as well as scientific studies to back it up, my sister gradually adapted to co-sleeping with my neice. I felt this was a huge victory. When DN (dear neice from here) was six months old, my sister and her husband split up and my sister plus her baby moved into my house for a couple of months.
While I was reading to my kids before bedtime in my husband's and my bedroom, I could hear my little sister in the room down the hall, crying and screaming at her six month old daughter to go to sleep in her playpen while the baby just wailed. Well, that was not going to happen in my house.
I flew down the hall and threw open the door. My little sister was sitting on the bed, head in her hands. My neice was lying on her back in her playpen, sobbing, with tears streaming down the sides of her face. I scooped her up and started to sway with her. She immediately tangled her fingers into my hair, and started to calm down, with shuddering sobs. My sister said she could not deal with the effort and time it took and was just too overwhelmed and I should place the baby back down and leave her to cry; that eventually, as she had every night for the past three months, DN would exhaust herself and stop crying.
Instead, with a million things I wanted to say but realized could wait until the next day, I offered to keep DN for the night in our bed, with our kids, and my sister could take a hot bath and get a good sleep. She accepted (I would not have let her decline!) and I took the little baby into bed with me. She woke up three times that night and I had her back to sleep within minutes, so long as I was holding onto her (she was long ago used to not feeding through the night due to being denied it) and snuggling with her.
The next day, my somewhat apologetic sister finally came downstairs toward noon, and thanked me for the extra sleep. She assumed I'd had none at all. I went on to explain to her why I had gotten sleep with few awakenings and why the baby hadn't been screaming and crying. My sister was finally willing to listen.
Over the next few weeks, I taught her as much as I could about the benefits of co-sleeping; how it is healthy and practical for baby and mother; why it is safe; where the bogus myths that it is a danger originated from; and how she could use co-sleeping to actually get some SLEEP without leaving DN to suffer in angst.
They were co-sleeping champs before long. Then something happened I did not see coming; overnight, she went back to her ex. He hated everyone in her family and we could barely see her. It was a highly abusive relationship. Without getting into the details (oh boy, there sure are many!) of that (maybe I'll save it for another post), DN's father insisted on putting her back into the crib. It didn't work so well this time. DN would be rocked to sleep, placed in the crib for a short while, and when she awoke in the night, my sister brought her into bed with them.
This routine lasted for several months. DN's father became more and more upset the longer it went on. His mother advocated the CIO method strongly. He couldn't see the harm in it (we came to find out LATER that when alone with DN, he and/or his mother were also double dosing DN on cold medication to make her pass out so they wouldn't have to 'deal with her').
The relationship between this man and my sister, however, did not last. He ended up leaving and it was just my sister with DN once more. They immediately went back to co-sleeping and it was a major success for them both.
Currently, there is a custody battle going on for DN. No matter what, the father will have overnights with her; he is upfront that he will stick her in an unfamiliar room in a crib-jail, turn off the light, shut the door, and just let her CIO.
My sister is horrified at the idea; I am DEVASTATED. There is nothing I can do-- is there? Has anyone else dealt with this? Is it possible to convince him to do otherwise? None of the information or tactics I've tried to take have made any difference to him.
I literally feel sick to my stomach with anxiety over picturing my neice, who is completely used to co-sleeping by now, being placed alone in a dark, scary, unfamiliar place and forced to cry herself to sleep, again and again and again with each visit.
Have you gone through this? Do you know anyone who has? Do you have an opinion on what will be/should be done/might happen?
Any comment/input/suggestion/story/experience is greatly appreciated!
Saturday, September 11, 2010
"The Prophet" On Children
I am definitely borrowing this, but in case there are those among us who've never read this before, or maybe just enjoy reading it again (such as myself), I thought I should share a section of "The Prophet" by Khalil Gibran which has always been near and dear to my heart since the first time I read it when I was twelve years old and still "lifetimes" away from becoming a mother. I've read this so many times I could recite it from memory by the time I was fifteen. It's a beautiful reminder about our beautiful children.
"The Prophet" by Khalil Gibran, On Children:
"And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable."
"The Prophet" by Khalil Gibran, On Children:
"And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable."
Friday, September 10, 2010
I'm Not That Mom
I'm not that mom. . . . who tells her children they can't touch the piano simply because they can't "play a song" yet. (I'm the kind of mom who can hear the music.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who leaves her kids for "me time" a couple of times a week when they're still so precious and small. (I'm the kind of mom having slumber parties on the living room floor every Saturday night.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who listens to her baby crying in her crib because she has to learn to sleep on my schedule and stop "intentionally manipulating". (I'm the kind of mom who snuggles my baby to sleep at night and soothes her when needed-- even if it's "just for attention".)
I'm not that mom. . . . who automatically replies, "Because I said so!" when her son asks, "Why?". (I'm the kind of mom taking painstaking care to explain photosynthesis to a four year old.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who ignores her own instincts or thoughts about her child because everyone else is doing things a certain way or telling her she should. (I'm the kind of mom going by "first, do no harm" and researching or seeking out better ways because parents can learn just as much as their kids.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who uses force for punishment against her children or calls them names, even if they are misbehaving. (I'm the kind of mom putting other things on hold to talk it out and mend the reason behind the reaction with gentle guidance and respectful discipline.)
I'm not that mom. . . . whose house is always enviously clean because the kids can't even take out their toys. (I'm the kind of mom who doesn't mind playing the evil dragon locked in the cardboard fortress, who pulls out the face paints on random days, and who has more than her fair share of battle wounds from stepping on wayward wooden blocks.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who is up to date, up to the minute, on the latest gossip and drama circulating online and in real life. (I am the kind of mom with a backed up inbox of e-mails I just can't get to, and who will silence the ringer on the phone until we finish the next chapter. . . or two.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who looks perfect every day, with gorgeously styled hair no toddler's hands have tangled and high heels that click so precisely below unflawed thighs. (I'm the kind of mom who settles most days for a pony tail, and whose tee shirts and jeans often bear the tell tale peanut butter finger smudges of embraces unencumbered by that day's choice of fabric.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who pretends that parents can't make mistakes or do anything wrong where a child is concerned. (I'm the kind of mom who admits when I do err and apologizes, because children deserve as much respect and dignity from adults as other grownups do.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who mainstream society points to as the ultimate goal for motherhood, who most women wish they were like, who is completely sure of herself one hundred percent of the time. (I'm the kind of mom whose children see her as their unconditionally loving protector, who will not have regrets over missing out on moments with her children, and who will never stop learning and looking for every new opportunity to love them.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who leaves her kids for "me time" a couple of times a week when they're still so precious and small. (I'm the kind of mom having slumber parties on the living room floor every Saturday night.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who listens to her baby crying in her crib because she has to learn to sleep on my schedule and stop "intentionally manipulating". (I'm the kind of mom who snuggles my baby to sleep at night and soothes her when needed-- even if it's "just for attention".)
I'm not that mom. . . . who automatically replies, "Because I said so!" when her son asks, "Why?". (I'm the kind of mom taking painstaking care to explain photosynthesis to a four year old.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who ignores her own instincts or thoughts about her child because everyone else is doing things a certain way or telling her she should. (I'm the kind of mom going by "first, do no harm" and researching or seeking out better ways because parents can learn just as much as their kids.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who uses force for punishment against her children or calls them names, even if they are misbehaving. (I'm the kind of mom putting other things on hold to talk it out and mend the reason behind the reaction with gentle guidance and respectful discipline.)
I'm not that mom. . . . whose house is always enviously clean because the kids can't even take out their toys. (I'm the kind of mom who doesn't mind playing the evil dragon locked in the cardboard fortress, who pulls out the face paints on random days, and who has more than her fair share of battle wounds from stepping on wayward wooden blocks.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who is up to date, up to the minute, on the latest gossip and drama circulating online and in real life. (I am the kind of mom with a backed up inbox of e-mails I just can't get to, and who will silence the ringer on the phone until we finish the next chapter. . . or two.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who looks perfect every day, with gorgeously styled hair no toddler's hands have tangled and high heels that click so precisely below unflawed thighs. (I'm the kind of mom who settles most days for a pony tail, and whose tee shirts and jeans often bear the tell tale peanut butter finger smudges of embraces unencumbered by that day's choice of fabric.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who pretends that parents can't make mistakes or do anything wrong where a child is concerned. (I'm the kind of mom who admits when I do err and apologizes, because children deserve as much respect and dignity from adults as other grownups do.)
I'm not that mom. . . . who mainstream society points to as the ultimate goal for motherhood, who most women wish they were like, who is completely sure of herself one hundred percent of the time. (I'm the kind of mom whose children see her as their unconditionally loving protector, who will not have regrets over missing out on moments with her children, and who will never stop learning and looking for every new opportunity to love them.)
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