When I Get That Urge to Kick Something, I Think of Emily (And Usually Do It Anyway)

Emily is very expressive.  Lately, when things are not going her way, she growls and says, "I'm frustrated!" Or, if Andrew is not doing things the way she wants him to, she angrily grunts "Andrew! Stop!"

I know exactly where she gets her grunts and expressions from - me.  While I could sit and feel guilty that my daughter is learning bad behaviour from her mom, I choose to look at her angry grunts, scowls, and snide remarks as evidence of her emerging self.  Like all kids her age, she imitates what she sees, so all my explosions of frustration and anger teach her how to respond when she faces similar situations.  And I don't see any problem with that.

Frankly, I think my responses are fairly mild.  I don't yell, spank, or call her and her brother names (besides pooky pants or other silly made up words) and I am quick to apologize and show an excessive amount of love.  Something that she has also picked up on.

When Andrew is having a hard day, she hugs him and gives him extra attention and special treatment.  When I am sick, she rubs my back and says, "I'm sorry momma."  If Andrew falls down, she runs to him and says "are you okay?"  And, best of all, she will randomly tell all of us how much she loves us.

Yeah, my daughter can get angry - like me - but, more often and more importantly, she is a sweet girl who willingly and freely expresses her affections toward her loved ones.  I can honestly say I taught her that too.

****Don't forget to comment on THIS POST for a chance to win a book!  I promise, it's worth it!****

Living In the Moment

It is 5 AM and I have been awake since 3.  Partially due to increasing nausea and my new obsession with this pregnancy, and partially due to excitement as I consider the future.  I have so much to look forward to!

• Starting a master's degree program (if I get accepted)


• Receiving my Zumba instructor certification


• Mothering my 2 (maybe 3!) beautiful children


• Loving on my incredibly sexy husband

As I look at my growing belly (that isn't actually growing, it has just remained pregnant-like since my last miscarriage and when I gained that 20 lbs from birth control), I think of my two healthy children sleeping upstairs.  The trials, the successes, the sadness, the joy, it's all part of this parenting ride.  While there are moments when I want to pull my hair out, I am learning that many of these come from my own insecurities and fears.  The more I discover about myself--my strengths and weaknesses--the more content I feel when it comes to the many roles I play.

I still have much to improve on but I feel excited as I consider the many possibilities that positive change brings.

And so I am happy to announce that I am heeding all your advice and thinking of this pregnancy as a day by day experience.  I will probably have many pokes and probes in the future, all of which determining how the pregnancy is continuing, and I am realizing there is no need in worrying over every little thing.  That's my doctor's job.  Instead, I will be joyful for the experience I have gained and intent on putting it to good use, whatever the outcome.

Growing Together

With Emily being my first, I feel like I am blindly groping my way through the dark room of parenthood.  Her twos kicked my trash and now her threes are taking me on a Merry-Go-Round ride of emotions.  She picks up on everything I talk with Ben about and is starting to understand and fully express the various emotions of this human state.

Her wit is dizzying.

But rather than spinning out of control, I find us on the same ride: sometimes speeding up and sometimes slowing down.  The Universe is in control and the good we send into space returns, twenty-fold, keeping our ride bumpy, but safe.

I'm not always sure what to expect, but I feel confident that she and I will enjoy this ride and learn as we grow together.

This is part of Galit and Alison's, Memories Captured Linky.

 

 

 

10 Inevitable Truths of Parenthood

1. When your kid or kiddos are sick, you will think they need rest.  They will think they need to avoid it.  On goes the Sleep To Get Better battle, worse than the Take Your Medicine battle.

2. As soon as you clear your schedule for some valuable time with your kids, they will destroy the house 10 minutes before, leaving a disgruntled, irritated, mama who wants to sleep and/or drink instead of spend that time with them.

3. Once you decide to wake up early to exercise, read, and/or write before your children wake up, they will decide to wake up earlier to join you. And there you will be, awake at 4 am, staring each other down.

4. The mess of your house will force you to think of some sanity-saving idea to make certain areas forbidden.  The kids will figure out your locks, avoid the booby-traps, and pull all the important papers you have stored, pour water on them, and throw them in the trash, laundry bin, and under your bed.

5. After a major temper tantrum, you will sit your toddler down to explain why things happen the way they do.  They will turn to you, give you the most tender expression, and smack your face.

6. Once you nicely fold your clothes and put them away--a task you do once a year--you will wake the next morning to all those clothes in your kids' room strewn across their floors and bunched up in places you didn't think they could reach.

7. You will make the most delicious meal, complete with four courses, sit your family down and endure as your oldest child says things like "I don't like that," or "I WANT CEREAL!" And, after your 2-year-old finishes, he will pour everything he didn't want on the floor, which your landlord has kept carpeted for insanity purposes.

8. While watching your children playing so nicely, you will remark to your husband/friend/associate "my kids are the best of friends," only to have one running to you, blood streaming down their face, the next minute screaming "he/she hit me!"

9. Instead of watching the show they demanded to watch while you wash dishes, or complete some other household chore, your children will be busy making artwork on the walls, the carpet, and the couch with your lipstick, pens, eyeliner, or whatever media source they can find in your purse.

10. Your spouse/partner and you will sit down after a long day to read bedtime stories to your kids.  After you finish, they will tackle you with hugs and kisses, shouting, "I love you!"  Then you will remember that it really is worth it in the end.  Especially once they shut their eyes and leave you with peaceful, slumbering noises--a sure sign you can finally relax.

World's Best Teacher

Ben works as a paraeducator in a first - third grade Autistic classroom.  As much as he loves the job, he finds it difficult to understand the cattiness and gossip mongering that the teachers--all female--participate in.

One conversation he recently overheard had to do with home school.

Teacher one: I can't believe so-and-so decided to homeschool their kids.

Teacher two: I know.  She isn't even educated enough to know how to work with her kids on math and reading.

Teacher three: And her kids will inevitably come back to high school with zero social skills.

Teacher one: Oh my gosh, a roommate of mine in college had a former roommate who knew a girl who was home schooled.  She was so awkward.

Teacher four: Yeah, I knew a girl [who was homeschooled] and she had no idea how to talk to people.

Teacher two: Seriously, parents who think they can home school their kids are ridiculous.  Their kids are going to be way behind the rest of their peers and go to college completely unprepared--if they do go to college.

The conversation just gets worse but I'm going to end there.

I know I probably won't home school my kids.  It's not because I'm afraid they won't be social or will be behind their peers, it's because I can't emotionally handle that plus a husband who is working 70-90 hours per week.

At the same time, if I feel that one or all of my kids would be better suited at home, I would have no problem pulling them out of their classrooms and teaching them.

What I find ironic about this conversation is these same teachers often complain about how annoying parents can be.  These parents want this, these parents want that, and often the parents don't think the teacher is giving their kid enough one-on-one time.  But, when a parent decides that rather than complain about the teachers and the free education their kids receive they will home school them because they think it will be better for their kids, the teachers still find fault.

My husband said it well.  These teachers (not all teachers) feel like home school is their enemy because it means they aren't good enough.  That isn't true.  The truth is, sometimes a parent feels their child needs something more.  Can you really blame a parent when they see their kid struggling and want to give home schooling a try?

There are so many things to write about regarding home-schooling.  So many myths to debunk.  For right now, I want to conclude with this thought: With all the resources available to home schooling parents, do we really their kids will grow up to be unsocial and academically behind adults? I don't know about you, but I'm going to do my best to give these parents all the support they need in making that big decision.

Let's Support Each Other

When I wrote about competitive parenting, Kristen asked that I "come up with a name for [my] new school of non-judgmental parenting so we can all join you and feel validated."  Kristen, I will do more than that.

We all have our bad days. Days when nothing seems to go right. However, all of us are great parents, with our own parenting flair. To bring out this flair in a supportive environment, I decided to do a weekly meme (for lack of better term) in which I share one thing I am proud of doing as a parent. I would like to invite all of you to do the same! I even created a button for it!

<a href="http://www.makingthemomentscount.com/2010/12/15/lets-support-each-other/" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.makingthemomentscount.com/SupportiveParentingButton.jpg" alt="MakingtheMomentsCount.com" width="125" height="125" /></a>

I know. I'm so creative. (Don't laugh.)

Anyway. If you care to join me, please do! I will be presenting my first post next Wednesday but you can write yours any day of the week just let me know so I can read and share it with others! (Have I used enough exclamation points?!!!)

Even if you don't participate, I hope by reading my positive parenting posts, you will remember how awesome you already are.

My (Non)Thrifty Children

We have been on a budget for most of our marriage, but especially so after Ben graduated (hence the two jobs).  I thought I've taught my kids the importance of sticking to the budget.  Apparently I was wrong.

Just last week I explained to them that we needed to ration out our diapers and wipes.

"One diaper and ten wipes a day," I said.

"Blahadadalelabladamamkama!" Andrew replied.

"I wanna drink!" Emily responded.

Alright, I thought, it will be smooth sailing from here on out.

Then they decided to get sick!  This more than quadrupled our diaper usage!  I couldn't very well let them make messes on the floor, could I?  So I had to let them use more than their one diaper quota.

It's even worse when we head to the store.

"Don't touch anything!" I sternly warn them.

Before we are even down the first aisle, Emily has licked/bit on half the items.  I had only to buy milk, bread, and cheese, but by the time we head to the check-out stand, my cart is full from her diligent efforts at vandalizing my grocery budget.  Naturally, once I am loading all her groceries onto the conveyor belt, she grabs all the candy from the display, rips them open, and begins chowing down on her stolen goods.

Between my kids' out of hand diaper usage and Emily's expensive grocery trips, I've already spent my allotted allowance.  And it's only the first of the month.

I guess it's back to the drawing board.

Competitive Parenting

The internet is ablaze with a recent article about Attachment Parenting in the Wall Street Journal.  I have read posts that agree and disagree with this article and feel very educated.

However, this post is not about that.

I have a degree in Family Science.  I loved my classes.  When I finally decided on that degree, I knew it was the right decision from the first class I took.

Through the course of my degree, I was introduced to something that has become my passion: Research.  One of the hardest parts of graduating, is losing access to our library's vast database of research articles.  I sorely miss perusing EBSCO for articles on topics pertaining to marriage, parenting, and child development.

That being said, my degree did not prepare me for what I've encountered since becoming a parent.  The battlefield over things like attachment parenting, baby wearing, breast milk vs. bottle feeding, and, of course, stay-at-home vs. working moms.

Holy cow.  In all my years of research, I'd never even heard of half this stuff!  (Literally, I had to Wikipedia baby wearing and attachment parenting to figure out what the heck they were in the first place.)

Rather than give you my opinion on each of these things, I would like to ask a question--is there any reason for the competition that exists between parents?

I have a few friends who use attachment parenting.  I might disagree with the approach (and shake my fists at Dr. Sears), but I think that it's awesome that these parents have found a parenting style that suits them.   Parenting is hard and they have successfully found their niche.  Good for them.

The thing that irks me is this snotty attitude that comes with choosing sides.  You have moms who say, "I breastfed all my babies until they were 10," and look at you with rage when you mention that your babe stopped nursing at 10 months.  Like the formula my kids consumed was poisonous.  Right.

Or moms who think you are crazy if you co-sleep,  sending you glares that ask, "You dare risk your child's life?"  Of course I do.

Not to mention the angst that all mothers feel whether they are working or staying-at-home.

After reading post after post in which an author writes scathing things directed at one parenting thing or another, I've begun to see a pattern.  People desire to take sides over an approach because it makes them feel like they belong somewhere.

But, I have a suggestion: Why don't we build a community of support rather than of divisiveness?

We are all different, this means that we are also different parents.  What works for me may not work for you.  And that is okay.  The important thing is that my, and your, children are well nourished--emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually.  How we make this work is dependent on our individual personalities.

Let's dedicate today and tomorrow for building each other up.  It's a tough job and we could all use a little validation.

Nightime is My Time

During the day, as my house gets messier and messier, I remind myself that I will have all night to clean.  Bedtime is at 7, afterall.

Every spilled cup, dropped toy, thrown food, and emptied out bookshelf will be tidied once that glorious hour comes.

Don't worry, I tell myself as I look at the torn apart living room, once the kids are in bed you'll clean it in a jiffy.

The only problem is, I also save other things for after bedtime: Blogging, eating, resting, and reading.  A few hours really doesn't give me enough time to adequately do all these things.

But, day after day, I keep to the same schedule. Putting myself in the same silly situation--being completely exhausted by the end of the day and having absolutely no desire to complete any of my tasks, only wanting to eat and lay down.

Now that I have simplified my life, I don't feel the need to put off the cleaning tasks until the kids are in bed.  It's just a matter of doing it.

On a Whim

I do not like being away from Ben.  Even though he is gone quite a bit, I prefer his current schedule to one in which he would travel.  My preference does not exclude me from feeling overwhelmed.  Especially when Ben's schedule becomes so packed that I am left to bear all familial responsibilities.  That is how last week was. When I recognized that my sanity was quickly slipping through my cupped hands, I made a difficult decision.

When Ben came home on Saturday night, I explained how I was feeling and offered a solution.  A visit to my family's house.  Even though he would miss us greatly,  he realized it was the best possible answer.

On Sunday,  I finished laundry and packed the suitcases.  I was nervous. I would be driving for 6 hours alone and with the kids.  Two very young kids.

The next morning, Andrew and Emily woke up 15 minutes prior to when my alarm clock was set to ring--at 4 am.  I decided it was now or never, so I quickly fed Andrew and loaded the luggage into the car (which included 2 suitcases, 2 Pack n' Plays, 2 booster seats, and 2 grocery bags filled with food).  After a long kiss good-bye and a prayer for safety, Ben helped me load the kids into the car and we were on our way.

Because I left so early, the kids slept most of the way.  The challenge was when I needed to use the restroom.  Thankfully, they are small enough that I could carry them into a bathroom stall with me.  Maybe not the most sanitary option, but that's why I am liberal with hand sanitizer.

I still miss Ben, greatly.  Yet, it is nice to be somewhere with instant entertainment for Emily, yummy meals each night, and help with my little Andrew.

It kind of makes me hope we can stay out west for medical school.

A Tale of Nursing

To all my male readers: You are excused from reading this post.  Unless you really want to, but don't say I didn't warn you.

Andrew lost weight at his last doctor's appointment. His weight has been teetering at the edge for the last two and causing me a bit of worry.  My kids are short.  I understand that, but to go from gaining 3 or 4 pounds a visit to gaining a half a pound and then losing a pound usually signifies something else is happening.

Talking with the doctor, we narrowed it down to one thing: a reduction in my milk production.  I had a feeling this was happening.  Andrew has been waking up a couple times at night absolutely famished.  Considering he usually sleeps through the night, this was a bit odd.  I understood this could be due to a growth spurt, but he wasn't getting any bigger.

My doctor suggested I start supplementing.  I was devastated.

I have a love/hate relationship with breastfeeding.  In the first few months, it hurts horribly.  I crack and bleed and nothing soothes my throbbing breasts.   I cry and push my feet into the ground until the baby is latched, then I clench my teeth the entire feeding.  I develop serious tension headaches because the stress.

Why do I continue?  Because I give myself a goal after each baby is born: if I still hate it by month 3,  I will stop.  Somehow this goal gives me the stamina to continue.  That and my pride.

Once the pain subsides (around month 3),  I begin to enjoy it a little more.  Around month 5,  it starts hurting again.  For 2 weeks out of the month, it is painful and I, once again, cry during feedings.  I persist because by that point, my babies will not take a bottle.

I enjoy the bonding moments my babies and I share during those 10-20 minutes, but I don't love breastfeeding.

However, when I realized my milk production was decreasing, I was disappointed.  I have sacrificed so much to continue breastfeeding and it seems so...unfair to have this happen.   And I fought.  I tried to feed Andrew more, tried drinking and eating a little bit more, but it still wasn't enough for my poor little guy.

It was then that I realized that breastfeeding was something I thought I could control.  It seems natural that I would produce something that keeps my baby happy and healthy.  The practice was, in many ways, defining me in my motherhood.  I felt cheated.

Until I realized my goals were warped.  Raising a healthy baby should be my first priority and if I must combine nursing with supplementation to achieve this? Then so be it.

It makes me wonder what other priorities I need to readjust.

A Nap Time Lesson

The kids are in their cribs supposedly napping.  Instead, I hear Emily yelling "Hi!" and Andrew giggling. I can picture them.  Emily is pressing her face against the mesh walls of her Pac N' play while Andrew, on his hands and knees, stares at her through his own mesh surface.  Their faces are lit up with unadulterated joy.

They are best friends.

When in our living room,  Andrew is not too interested in me.  His eyes are stuck on his sister.  They follow her everywhere.  He smiles as she runs from room to room, creating havoc.  He babbles when she starts singing.  He laughs, really laughs, when his sister twirls, hops, and jigs to unheard music.

I look at them and remember.

The horrific pregnancies.  The long nights.  The colic. The postpartum depression.

The easy births.  Our first moments together. Their first smiles.  Their first laughs.

The good, the bad, the happy, the sad, the frustrating, the fun, the painful, the joy--mixed together in life's blender, a combination of bitter and sweet, to be drunk daily.   And I do.  Every last drop.  Because it's worth it.



Right now, I listen to their silly noises and I feel at peace.

One day I will have another baby.  I will feel their movements inside me.  We will grow together for nine months.  We will meet and I will cry tears of immense joy.

That sweet baby will have instant best friends.  Soon  I will hear her or him laughing and playing with their siblings during nap time, and I will remember today.  I may even read these words again.  My heart will swell--for a second time--with feelings of great gratitude.

A tender mercy that I will not forget, but will embrace.  Fully.

Sudden Loss

I had a suspicion that I was pregnant.  Familiar symptoms began plaguing my body: nausea, sleeplessness, moodiness, and back pains.  I was excited.

A couple weeks later the symptoms stopped.  I took a few pregnancy tests, all of which came back negative.  I was worried.

Then the bleeding started.

At first I thought that maybe I had been wrong.  But I knew my body and this bleeding was very different from a normal period.

I have cried with many friends who have miscarried.  I have comforted them, held their hand, or, if I couldn't be there, offered understanding in comments and e-mails.

But when I experienced my own miscarriage, I couldn't talk about it.  Besides Ben, I shared the news with only a couple other people.

I was scared.

The comments well intentioned people would say held me back.  I didn't want to hear--

You're young, you'll bounce back.

You do have two little ones.  Enjoy them.

Maybe it was for the best.

You weren't trying, were you?

Frankly, it's none of your business if we were trying. I also don't care if it was for the best, that I have two babies, or that I have youth on my side.  My heart was--is--still breaking.

That baby I was growing was real to me.  I was visualizing her little hands, his first smile, her itty bitty nose, and the smell of his newborn skin.  I wasn't sure how I would handle three little ones under three, but I was going to try!

Still, my fear held me back from fully mourning.

The impact didn't fully hit me until a month afterward.

It was then that I cried into Ben's shoulder.  He understood.  He continues to comfort me each month when I am greeted by an unwelcome visitor.  He is compassionate even when I am horribly angry for those first two days.

I am my worst critic.

When my period arrives, I begin asking the questions.

Am I not worthy?

Is it because I am a horrible mother?

What am I supposed to learn?

What about the feelings I had?  Did I misunderstand?

Why?

After the questions end, I start berating myself. The thoughts are dark, depressing, and leave me feeling worthless.

The pain increases, the emptiness I feel in my heart grows bigger.  I feel alone.

Yet I am becoming stronger.

I am learning to shut off my inner critic.  I feel my depression ebbing away.

I am letting myself grieve.

Now, will you please pass the tissue?

Snatching a Few Moments With Mom

I put the kids in bed at their normal bedtime.

They cried.

And cried.

Finally stopped.

And I smiled.

Ben came home, opened their door, and woke them up.

They cried.

And cried.

Ben rescued them.

And I blogged.

Ben calmed them down by reading stories, they stole away onto my lap, and I declared, "Bedtime!"

Emily slept.

Andrew cried.

I rescued him.

And blogged.

With him on my lap, touching my face, and giving me lots of snuggles.



I laughed.

And kissed him.

Rocked him.

And smiled.

Sometimes I plan my whole day around bedtime and when the hour finally comes, I sigh with relief. But if it's interrupted by a sad baby, I become grouchy and think unpleasant thoughts. Today I realized I should cherish these one-on-one moments because they don't happen very often. In connection with my recent epiphany, I am choosing to enjoy these times. Even if it does mean the laundry remains on my couch, unfolded.

Becoming the Mother I Want to Be

When I had Andrew, something happened.

I was tired, I was lonely, I was stressed, and I was overwhelmed.  Ben was working, attending school, studying for the MCAT, and trying his best to be there for me and the kids.

My little boy was fussy, very fussy.  He cried and cried, I cried and cried, Emily cried and cried.  I pushed joy away so I could have room for misery.

Emily was growing, maturing, turning into a toddler.  I wasn't ready.  I wanted her to help me, but I didn't want her to be adventurous or seek autonomy.  I wanted--I needed--her to sit down next to me, playing quietly.  Not running from mess to mess, taking advantage of me nursing to get into everything.

I was unrealistic.

I found myself turning into an awful mother. I went from using calm tones to relying on harsh tones; being happy and engaging to being angry and distant; patient to impatient.

My husband's busyness and my loneliness excused me from improving my behaviors.

Until one day I really looked at my daughter.  What I saw was not a little monster trying to ruin my life, but a little girl, a toddler, who was discovering her little world, begging for me to help her.



How I viewed motherhood changed.

In The Family: A Proclamation to the World, the leaders of my church remind mothers (and fathers) that we are to nurture our children.

Nurture: to feed and protect; to support and encourage, as during a period of training or development.  (Source: Dictionary.com.)

I do feed and protect my children every day, but do I support and encourage? More importantly, do I support and encourage my toddler as she discovers her world?

I am not ignorant.


I knew what I could do to temper her melt downs or aide in her autonomy seeking behavior.  That is what my degree is in. Yet I was neglectful and I took the easy way out.

I have had several impressions reminding me to use my education to help me parent.  I ignored them.  Silly, really, considering I am often moaning to Ben that I can't use my degree.

I am thankful that God is patient with me.

I can change and I will change.  These changes will not happen immediately, it will take time for me adjust my behaviors.

I feel powerful, I know that I can do this.

How have you grown/changed as a parent?

This post is (now) part of  "I'm Finding the Bigger Picture" event.  Click on over to see more events!

I Am So Talented

One of the big themes I see over and over again in the blog world is balance.

Well, boy howdy, I have found the solution.

At least for me.

Go ahead and pat me on the back.

Oh, what is that? You want to know my secret?

My secret is simple:  husband found a new job in which he is working nights.  Brilliant,  really.

Now that he is no longer around to tempt me into spending time with him,  I have commandeered my nights and whipped them into cleaning action.  I wash dishes,  sweep and mop floors,  vacuum the messy carpet,  and wash, fold, and put away laundry.

I am like the super cleaning woman.

Whew.

I'm feeling tired just reading that!

All right, it isn't as hard as it sounds.  Considering we only live in 500 sq ft, the floors take like 10 minutes to clean; the laundry room shares space with our only bathroom; and it takes like 4 seconds to walk from room to room.  Living in a small space does have its advantages.

I have decided to ignore household chores and the internet while my kids are awake--otherwise known as taking long walks and playing in the park--so I use the four or five hours after they go to bed for my time.  My time to blog, write, and clean.

It's splendid really.

Except for the fact that my husband is gone and that I miss him greatly.

Sometimes, though, I choose to see the positives.

Like a clean house.

A Big Slobbery Thank You

It just so happens that I forgot to mention one major culprit in my emotional drama of last week: Miss Flow.  While I am grateful for this physical reminder of my fertility, I can't exactly gush about how she messes up my emotions.  Everything seems much more dramatic when she visits.

I recovered a bit of my spice over the weekend.  Your comments were a gigantic help in reminding me of the support group I have.   As much as days like those suck, it feels less overwhelming when I know that other people can relate.  Reading your comments while drinking Diet Dr. Pepper certainly alleviated much of the sadness I felt.

In case I forget how incredibly lucky I am, let me list a few things that made me smile this weekend.



Watching this little girl canter and twirl around our living room.

Feeling her sweet, slobbery kisses on my cheek.

Smiling as she sings little songs about me, Ben, and her little brother.



Tickling his numerous rolls.

Listening to his little baby noises.

Feeling like the greatest mom in the world as he smiles and laughs when I walk into the room.

Finally, all of you.  Your kind words of support.  Your wise suggestions.  Your digital hugs.  I really am a lucky gal.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

A Special Birth Day

We are at the end of Five for Ten.  I have enjoyed this round as much as enjoyed the last round.  I have made many new friends, read many inspiring posts, and cried many times.   Thank you Jen and Sarah for hosting this and for all those who have participated.  It has been a blast! The last topic for this series is "Yes."

I got up, intending to take the test discretely.  The crinkle of the wrapper as I opened it woke Ben.  He knocked on the door and asked me if I was taking it.

I can't hide anything from him.

I took the test and he came in as we waited for the results.  In a few seconds, two lines appeared.

I looked at him, eyes glowing with happiness, and asked him if he was ready.

Nine 1/2 Months Later--Midnight

The contractions were getting stronger.  I squeezed Ben's hand as another contraction started.  He started packing the bag.

Bag in hand, he looked at me and asked, "Are you ready?"

The Next Day, Around 2:00 pm

The midwife checked me again.  "She's crowning.  You can start pushing."

Ben and I looked at each other, eyes blurred with exhaustion, hearts aglow with happy anticipation, the unspoken question hanging in the air,  "Are you ready?"

10 Minutes Afterward

The nurse cleaned the baby while the midwife stitched me up.  Ben alternated between holding my tired hands and staring at our beautiful angel.

When the cleaning was done, the nurse came over.  Holding our squishy faced newborn in her arms, she looked at us and asked, "Are you ready?"

We looked at each other, looked at our baby, and excitedly, emotionally, responded, "Yes!"

**********************

Kristen at Motherese is hosting an on-line book club at the end of this month.  The chosen book is our friend Aidan's rookie novel, Life After Yes.  Having had the opportunity to read it, I am proud to join Kristen in offering a free copy to a lucky ready.  Leave a comment on this post before 6:00 am on Friday, May 21 and a winner will be randomly selected and announced that afternoon.

What's Up With the Balance?

After reading all of your responses to my balance question, I decided to try various suggestions and see what works for me.

I can tell you one thing: mornings do not work.  At least not yet.  My sweet little boy does not cooperate with my well intended plans.  He prefers to wake up every hour or so from midnight until 7 am.  Apparently he is trying to tell me that I must either a) go to bed earlier or b) sleep in later.  Going to bed early is a great idea; however, dear husband does not come home until late.  If I want a few moments of alone time with Ben, I must give up something else.  I choose to give up and early bed time.  A small sacrifice, really.

At this point in my little guy's life, it is silly to expect so much from myself.   He and I are still figuring each other out.  So, I am no longer sticking to the blogging while napping thing.  At least not exclusively.  Let's face it--naps are not as scheduled as they once were.  Giving myself little "bloggy breaks" every now and then are okay.  As many of you mentioned, it's okay for kids to learn to entertain themselves.

As for being present?  I am going to quote from an e-mail my dear friend sent me.

"Somehow, we've come to believe that we should enjoy every moment of parenting. A lot of parenting - even cute cuddly babies or adorable toddlers SUCKS. It's grunt work. It's exhausting. It's physical. It's unending. IT'S WORK.

It doesn't mean you don't love your babies with every breath in your body. It's just that it's difficult to DO it - especially when you don't get a lot of relief - day in and day out."

Like most people, I put a lot of pressure on myself.  I expect to be the perfect parent, housekeeper, wife, friend, and woman.  Deep down I know this is unrealistic and even maniacal, yet those desires remain.  As I fail and fail pieces of my self-worth break off and shatter.  It seems hopeless,  because it is.

I have a husband who is in school.  He is gone frequently.  And, this will not change.  It will most likely get harder before it gets easier.  The high expectations I have set for myself are impossible.

To break free from this prison of hopeless expectations, I am learning to listen to those promptings that can help guide my actions.  Naturally, this is a tough thing.  It requires that I let go of my pride and humbly accept the help that is being offered from those around me.   "Those" meaning my husband, my friends, the Lord, and all of you.

Today was a rough day.  Little sleep, early morning appointments, and refused naps lowered my spirit.  But, in between the hard parts, there were tender mercies.  A random giggle from Andrew, a sweet kiss from Emily, a thoughtful call from Ben, and some appreciated e-mails added together to remind me that the tense moments are generally small and easily forgotten when I focus on how blessed I really am.

My Dreams Are Usually Not Tools of Revelation, But Sometimes They Are

After a rough day, I finally headed off to bed.  The dreams eagerly entered my mind, taking me away from reality.  They were fun.  At first.  Then they gradually turned into a haunting scene ripped from the headlines.

I head out on an overnight trip with Ben.  We leave Andrew and Emily in the van and take the car.  We don't think anything of it until we come back.

When we arrive, Emily is gone and Andrew is sleeping.  Ben is slightly worried that we don't see Emily, but I tell him to not worry about it.  Besides, I am too happy from our trip to worry.  I take Andrew out.  He's a  little cold, but okay.  I finally begin looking for Emily.

A sweet lady from our congregation comes out onto her porch and tells us that she has Emily.  "Don't worry! I saw her and brought her inside.  She is such a doll!"

I finally wake myself up.  I lie in bed with my heart pounding.  I go check on Emily.  She's sleeping in one of her many wild positions.  I smile through the hurt.  I grab Andrew from his crib and snuggle his little body.  Breathing in his sweetness and innocence.  I am angry with myself.  How could I do that to my children in my dream?  It is horrible!  Abandonment.  Carelessness.  Selfishness.  Abuse.  Things I only read about.  And I played them out in my dreams.

After realizing that sleep has fled, I go and get a drink.  I try to calm my rapidly beating heart.  I just can't get those horrible images and feelings out of my mind.

I think about what this dream could mean.  I rarely analyze my dreams,  but my mind would not rest until I looked at it from every angle.  After a few minutes, the meaning becomes clear: I am too connected to the internet.  While I don't literally abandon my children,  my thoughts are far from them.  I often put the computer with the e-mails, new posts, and tweets before my kids' needs.

I think about how I can slow down and really engage with my children.  The brainstorming helps to soothe my anxiety.  It is still late, but I know sleep is far from my grasp.  So, I wake up Ben. With a shaky voice, I tell him fragments of my dream.  He wraps me in his arms and I finally drift off into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning was Friday.  I decided to reset my priorities. I wrote a quick post and turned off the computer.  That was the start of my blog break.  Or, as Kristen and Becca put it, my digital diet.  The break gave me the chance to get on the floor and play with my babies.  I tickled, they giggled; I read, they listened; I sang, they danced.  They were moments that are forever etched into my mind.  Rather than losing myself in the computer while they napped, I cleaned.  Our house was tidy, we were all happy.

At night time, I reviewed different ways to effectively balance.

Writing is something that I can't avoid.  It provides relief and comfort from the daily stresses of parenting;  thus, I need it to relax me when the kids are sleeping.

At the same time,  reading each of your blogs infuses my soul with pieces of infinite wisdom.  Your inspiring posts encourage me to become a better person;  therefore, I need these interactions as well.

I could get up before the kids are awake in the morning.  Of course, that would mean waking up early.  Something I try to avoid.  Hey, my little guy doesn't sleep through the night yet!

I could try using nap times to clean.  That way, when the evening comes, I can enjoy blogging and writing without too much angst.  I don't have to worry about paying attention to my husband because he's not here.  Ha!  Takes care of that guilt.

I have yet to receive a striking revelation. One thing is certain: I cannot let that dream become a reality.  Just thinking about it makes me want to cry.  And vomit.  It was too powerful to ignore.

Do you have any tips/advice on how to achieve a good balance in your life?  Please share.  I need it.