Composition of Parenting: Take One

This weekend Wesley turned 8. I consider the ages of 1, 10, 13, 16, 18, 21, 40, & 100 milestone birthdays. So feeling the realm of emotions that I have been experiencing with this new turning of age, has caught me off guard.

December 4th, eight years ago, I was 19 years old, scared, single, and about to be a mother. Insecure in my new position, I hesitated the first time I referred to myself as "Mom", remembering how strange it sounded coming out of my mouth.  There I was, with a son, completely dependent on me to guide his life in the right direction, while uncertain of the direction of my own.

Worries of daycare, diapers, appointments, burps, working, and my own education were juggled. Afraid of feeding him fruit too soon or veggies too late.  Nervous about when will he start crawling and how many hours did I have at work? Was 18 credits in a semester too much and was 10 months old too early to walk? All the while, consciously reading the books to make sure to ditch the pacifier before his life was altered in a negative way.

Those problems and hurdles felt so heavy, so large.

The blind course of parenthood isn't easy, but up until now, it has been very straight forward. Similar to writing. Research is done and the outline is created. You know what you expect and you know what your outcome should be, you draft. Depending on your "What to Expect the First Year" hand book and other's advice who's walked the path you are following, information is chronically contained. Here is where the lessons of social acceptance are taught. Don't bite, don't hit, inside voice, outside voice, ideas are tested and consequences can easily be backspaced, corrected, and previous attempts for the easiest flow forgotten.
Exhausting physically, time consuming, tiresome work.

The next stage is revising. The stage I have found myself in the middle of. Time where attention needs to be payed to the details, where they are fine tuned and layers revealed. I know my outline is grounded, but the foundation needs to be strong. Mistake aren't as easy forgiven and my direction can sometime become unclear. I know where I want us to be, but not sure the best approach to get there. Unpredictable twists are taken, but my structure needs to be consistent, the question of whether I'm taking the right path is heavy with self doubt.
Exhausting mentally, tedious, worrisome work.

I'm good at outlines. I know my way around guarding heads from table corners, booboo's healing quickly with a "Mumma kiss", savoring in the unfiltered spoken thoughts. I'm in uncharted territory figuring out how to lead Wesley in the right direction in his life, while he's figuring out how to live it.

I don't know what's to come, but I can guarantee a lot of time will be spend revising, many years of learning is going to be done along the way, on both parts. And until then, we celebrate the age of 8 and the mystery twists and turns it will surely provide.

6 Months Old

Josephine Marie is 6 months old today. Six.months.old. She's figured some big things out in that short amount of time. There is no stopping her now.
Dr. Seuss summed it up perfectly when he said, "Oh, the places you'll go" and whether I'm ready for it or not...oh... the places... my beautiful Miss Josephine will go...

Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This

**The humor that a post like this one is falling on the heels of a post like my last one is not lost on me. I acknowledge the fact that today's "boo hiss, blah, thumbs down day" doesn't quite complement the "live in the now, enjoy the day for the gift it is" posts I feel revived reading.  Seeing as most posts are composed throughout the day when I get 3 minutes to write as many words as I can, I often have a change of heart from the start of a post at 7:00 AM to publication of a post at 9:00 PM. Tonight when the kids are sleeping and my change of heart has occurred, I will then laugh out loud (literally) at its irony, but until then...**

Here's my issue. When the house is a cluster mess, so is my attitude. When the "Do-It" list is filled with "do-its” that may be simple in their reminders, the task themselves often need blocks of "get it done" time dedicated to them and more than half my attention, I feel a bitter overwhelming. When my kids act in a way that makes me consider they may actually be the spawn of a Certain Evil, my patience is none existent and tolerance for anything and everything is gone. All these things stager through their rotation, but every so often, Life needs a good laugh, and decides to test me and aligns these annoyances to fall on the same day.

Unfortunately for me, on days like this, unlike my friend Stefanie, I'm unable to stop myself in the middle of my building frustrations, take a deep breath, and find life’s greater meaning refocused in the innocents of my children's eyes and rejuvenated reassurance in the comfort of my husband's embrace.

Fortunately, however, I have a few special tricks on bringing myself back into alignment that I've learned along the way and today, they were brought out in full force and I am thankful once again, I'm easily satisfied with the simplest of things.

Such as vacuuming with my heels on. When I'm easy annoyed I vacuum because it drowns out the sound of the kids crying/fighting/whining, but is also more productive than my less subtle turning up the radio and dancing around the room like an escapee from the physc. ward who is coming off her sedative medications.. This summer when I was cleaning out my closet I found the heels I had only worn once and thought it was a shame there was little chance of them every being worn again. Wanting to get a little more mileage out of them, I threw them on my feet as I continued to clean out the closet and found they not only helped me with my already horrible balance, but worked muscles in my legs I didn't realize I had, all the while giving me that sexy confident boost that heels give a girl.  Heels are now the accessory of choice while vacuuming my floors and trying to eat up toes on a little boy.

Wearing heels also makes me slow down. I can't run around with unfocused thoughts wearing them. So I evenly strut around with semi-focused thoughts.

Giving the kids a bath. The kid's bathroom is right off the kitchen/living room so the boys can be in it, but I can get other things done. Calvin loves to take them, any funk he is in, is washed away with a bath full of bubbles. Joser is just now loving the excitement of splashing and because I do have to hold her while she splashes away, it makes me stop, replenishing my patience tank, with her and Calvin's deep belly giggles.



Snapple is my bottled happiness....


And then I escaped to my happy place... the kitchen... the boys and I assemble White Trash Chex Mix (politically correct titles are what I'm all about)....



I ate it until I was sick and then shoved some more in for good measure. To really make sure I left no room for an attitude relapse, I snapped a few pictures of the most beautiful bald head in the world.



Sitting here now, looking back on the day, Calvin snuggling by my side freshly entering a night of pleasent dreams, I know tomorrow will be different and the rotation of daily trials will once again become staggered.

Every day can't be filled with smiles and rainbows or the better day would go without appreciation, but I'm  eager to say good-night to this day, tucking my "attitude pick me ups" in my back pocket for when I need them next.