Don’t Give Up on the Boys July 19, 2008

My son is 2 1/2. He is the sweetest, cuddliest thing around. Way more cuddly than my daughter was at this age – he still wants to get into bed and snuggle in the morning, which usually gains me an extra 30 -45 minutes of sleep – which I am all for. He also just comes over to me during the day and wants to sit on my lap – with his pacifier in mouth and his head on my shoulder, he is still my little babe…

I want to remember this time for when he is 15 and 16 years old and struggling to put as much space between me and himself as he possibly can, and I don’t want to remember this in order to embarrass him, but instead to remind me that he isn’t all gruff talk and gangling limbs – that underneath all that adolescent awkwardness and angst – he remains a sweet, and sensitive, and confused child. I think too often we just let our boys drift – we go all psycho on our daughters and all of a sudden over analyze their every move and action once they hit about 14, but somehow boys are able to drift right along. 

As I teacher I heard over and over again “Oh, he’s just acting like a boy”, “Boys, will be boys”, which are such hollow empty phrases – when our boys really do deserve better. This attitude is like giving a child a free pass to behave however they want. I don’t agree. I think as a whole we need to hold our boys to higher standards and also keep them closer…

My mother recently acknowledged that she should have spent more time worrying about my brother. She wishes that she had made more time for him, to get to know him better. He is 36 now and married, and while he and my mother do have a relationship, so much of it is simply cordial – there isn’t that knowledge there that comes with asking the deep questions and taking the time to listen.

My brother turned out fine and all that, but it was always my sister and I who were the recipients of those “talks” – which lasted well into adulthood and for the most part which I guess I finally outgrew when I became a mother myself – maybe it was because I finally started behaving better, who knows.  However, my mother and I still talk a lot, about everything under the sun, and maybe part of it can be explained away because as women we do go through similar experiences, but I think if you take that position it is too easy of a cop-out.

The point is my mother regrets all those years when my brother was lost to her – he was always a good kid, played hockey, stayed above water in school – but if he tended to drift around on the weekends, or missed his curfew, or slept most of the day – there was nothing…

I don’t want to be in this position with my son…

The Mother I Am… May 7, 2008

I often wonder what kind of a mother I am. Where do I fit on the spectrum of motherliness? And what exactly is on that spectrum anyway? I say this not because I am insecure in my relationship with my children, but I  wonder what kind of a mother I am in relation to my own mother.

I have been thinking a lot about that lately – about the things my mother did, and didn’t do, and I wonder why she made particular decisions. For example, why did she think it was a good idea for me to get a perm in grade 4? Looking back at family pictures it certainly wasn’t because it was attractive.

I wonder why on earth she didn’t censor the make up choices I made in Grade 7? I mean I realize it was the early 80’s, but come on, the blue frosted eye shadow up to my eyebrows was a bit much! I wonder this particularly because my mother always looked so put together, and I don’t recall seeing any family photos of her with blue eyeshadow up to there!

I also wonder about recent comments my mother has made to me, that she allowed my brother too much freedom, and that she wasn’t there emotionally for him when he most needed it.

I wonder all these things as I slowly engage in the struggle to raise both a daughter and a son. And by struggle I don’t mean in the sense that it is a chore that I could do without. I mean struggle in the sense that not a day goes by that I do not engage in making decisions, and sorting through choices – whose outcomes and resolutions will impact the lives of all involved.

These moments of choice can be overwhelming at times. Moments building upon moments – as each decision rests upon the one that came before - and your destination becomes something that was not recognizable at the outset.

My children are still young, but time has a way of moving at lightning speed once you become the grown up, and I see choices having more weight to bear as the future draws near. I trust that I will be ready to make these decisions as my children grow older, and that they will join me in this journey as they become more able to take part.

However, I am already set to veto the blue eyeshadow…

Recipe for a six room poem… February 14, 2008

As a writer I am always looking for words and images that will help me see the world a little more clearly – to really be able to describe the exact shade of purple I saw in the fading of the sunset, or how the yellow bowl filled with green apples looked set in the middle of the dining room table.

I find reading anything by Georgia Heard helps me to do this (Awakening the Heart; Creatures of Earth, Sea, & Sky; For the Good of the Earth & the Sun; Writing Towards Home).  Simplistic and stripped down, her writing simply illuminates the obvious, the stuff that was sitting right in front of your nose.  Yet it also provides enough detail that things can lodge themselves in my mind – helps me to see the small things that I might otherwise have overlooked.

One of the most useful of Georgia’s exercises is the writing of the “Six Room Poem”.  I don’t use it just to write poetry, but find it particularly helpful when I am trying to create/recreate an image, set the scene, or simply trying to breathe a little more life and a little more poetry into my everyday writing.  I have also used this exercise in a classroom setting with children to help them create poems.

This is how you do it: 

• Divide a piece of paper into six squares.
• In the 1st “room” think of something that you have seen that is amazing, beautiful, interesting, or that has just stayed in your mind.  Simply describe and write down what comes to your mind.
• In the 2nd room look at the same image in the first room – but just focus on the quality of light that surrounds the image (soft/harsh/daylight/moonlight), and what colors do you associate with the image.
• 3rd room – picture the same image but this time focus on only the sounds.  Are there any voices?  What is in the background?  What kind of silence do you hear?  Lonely?  Peaceful?
• 4th room – write down any questions you have about the image.  Anything you want to know more about?
• 5th room – write down any feelings you have about this same image.  Rage? Frustration? Peace?
• 6th room – look over the five rooms and select one word, or a few words/phrase/or sentence that feels important and repeat it three times.

Finished!  Now all you need to do is spend some time looking over what you wrote.  Other ideas/feelings might arise about the image as you spend some time reflecting on the image.  Now you are ready to create your poem/paragraph/whatever you want to accomplish with the image – by rearranging and eliminating the words or sentences you have created.

 Have fun!  I will try to post one of my “images” in the next few days.

The Trouble with Home-Cooked Meals… December 17, 2007

Why do I do, what I do?  Why do I insist on cooking almost every night for my children (one four year old and one 20 month old)?  Why do I believe it is important for my children to be exposed to good food?  To sit down with them at the table and share a meal?  To involve them in the cooking process as much as they are able to participate?

Some nights things run as smoothly as possible.  The children are engaged in some sort of activity – playing well together – I am in the kitchen dicing, and slicing, and sauteing, and whatever else it is that I do in order to get some sort of delicious home cooked food on the table in time for dinner.  More often than not it is bedlam in the area I call the kitchen – and not always of the disastrous sort – just enough craziness that it feels like I am up against something.  Not the smooth kind of cooking that takes place on TV shows, or the Food Network.  I have always thought that a wonderful reality/cooking show would be to film a mother who comes in the door at around 3:30 or 4:00 and must have a delicious meal on the table by 5:30 – meanwhile her children are flinging themselves at her and around the kitchen as she attempts to put something together.  Move over Rachel Ray and those 30 minute meals that always take way longer than 30 minutes to make!

I digress.  Meal prep at my house usually involves a variety of different stages.  Sometimes I actually start cooking dinner when I get up in the morning – or at least I try to get some of the work done at that time.  Chop an onion, chop some vegetables, put the tofu in the marinade, put all the dry ingredients in one bowl and the wet ingredients in another so all I have to do when I get home is throw them together, or what ever else I can do to reduce the time it takes me to get dinner cooking.  Of course, that only happens on the days when I am organized, on the days when I actually know what we are going to have for dinner before I walk in the door.  Many days it is 3:00 and I am heading for home and I have absolutely no idea what groceries we might have in the refrigerator, let alone what I might concoct for dinner. 

To add to the confusion I am the kind of shopper that goes to the grocery store everyday.  Okay, maybe every second day – but you get the picture.  I like to have fresh produce.  I might have an idea of what kind of food I want to eat a couple days of head, but I don’t think I have the ability to plan out a weeks worth of menus in one shot – although that is my resolution for the coming year so I will check in with more on that later!  I am not the kind that is able to stock pile my refrigerator and freezer with food items.  I have a minimum amount – but have never really caught onto the processed food thing.  Both my sister and my mother have two refrigerators and a deep freeze.  These various contraptions are always FULL!  I have no idea what they have in there, but it kind of scares me.  They are both Costco goers and like to buy in bulk (not that there is anything wrong with that), but I swear they have enough food in there homes to last for at least a year. 

The other issue is – I am a “crash and burn” type of cook.  My husband (who is a classically trained French chef) can whip up a multi-course meal and leave only one bowl in the sink that needs to be cleaned.  If it weren’t for the smells emitting from the oven there is scant evidence that anyone has even cooked a meal.  Myself, on the other hand, leave plenty of evidence that the kitchen has not only been used, but is also well loved.  I generally use every bowl in the kitchen, leave a trail of something snaking across the counter-top or the stove, breadcrumbs or flour invariably spill from their containers, and a variety of other messes all add to the ambiance.  My reasoning is that I only have about 20 minutes to throw a meal together without being bombarded by one or both of the children – therefore, I do not have time to deal with minutiae – like stopping to wipe the counters, or rinse out the blender.  I save that for my housekeeper (oh wait, that is me  too!).

Anyways, enough babbling.  I love to cook.  I enjoy experimenting with foods and flavors – however, my children are not quite at that stage where they are interested in experimenting with their food.  I do have an idea of what my children will eat, so I am able to branch out from there – but sometimes I feel like maybe I should throw in the towel.  Heck, I live in NYC and can get anything delivered to my apartment.  Why don’t I develop a relationship with the drawerful of delivery menus in the front hall table.  But somewhere deep down inside I want better.  Restaurant food tastes okay for awhile – then it is all the same.  Plus, I hate to pay money for something that I know I could have cooked better. 

So what exactly is my point here.  Heading back to my original questions – why do I bother?  I bother because I believe children should eat good food – it doesn’t have to be fancy – but it needs to satisfy.  I believe that children should be involved in food preparation and some nights mine engage fully.  Setting the table, putting pickles in a bowl, spinning and ripping the salad greens.  I believe that taking the time to cook a meal satisfies on so many levels – it is a way to take some time out of your day and sit down and share - or that is at least the romantic notion I carry around in my head.  Some nights we are close to attaining this – all munching and talking away in unison.  Some nights there are turned up noses, and crossed arms, and “This is yucky.  I want noodles”  Which is tough to hear when you have spent time cooking a meal – but I don’t give in – but they are always welcome to eat bread and butter.  I believe that someday we will get there…

What are we celebrating? December 13, 2007

What happened to children’s birthday parties?  Whatever happened to having some kids over to your house, or your backyard (maybe to the bowling alley or a movie if you were lucky), playing pin the tail on the donkey, having cake and ice cream, and calling it a day?  When did things change?  I guess it was somewhere between the time I turned twelve and when my daughter started going to birthday parties, which was about six months ago. 

You’ve come a long way humble birthday party!  In all fairness to the birthday party I do live in Manhattan where things are often larger than life and space is at a premium so it is not always possible to have a party in your own home.  However, it seems like kiddie birthday parties are a big thing everywhere – according to the amount of coverage it receives in national magazines. 

This is my first year of the “birthday party”.  My daughter is only four so we are at the cusp of the madness that might descend upon us when it comes to birthday parties.  At least the type of party that is expected of you from the preschool crowd.  First of all it has become necessary to invite the entire class (at 20 kids in my daughter’s class this seems like sheer lunacy) because heaven forbid you would want to upset a child.  Some parents do try to circumvent this by inviting only “all the girls”, or “all the boys” in the class.  It has also become a necessity to invite siblings – both younger and older – and hey, why not bring along both mom and dad at the same time.  This leads to massive amounts, of what I consider to be, “unnecessary people”; a ridiculous amount of junky toys that are disguised as gifts; and turns a four year old’s birthday party into an event that parallels my wedding for the amount of planning that went into the “big day”.

The preschool that my daughter attends suggests that “young children can not handle large parties, therefore it is best to invite two or three friends and to keep activities to a minimum”.  As an educator I agree.  However, it appears that none of the preschool parents listen – as they continue to invite the entire class, and siblings, and parents to the blessed celebration.  The venues tend to become a little crazier each year as well - puppet theaters, painting studio, gymnastics studios, Build-a-Bear.  One family I know rented out a disco for the their daughter’s fifth birthday.  Close to 100 people were there – there was a candy and ice cream bar for children, an open bar for parents, disco dancing lessons, make-up stations – which is all ridiculously ostentatious.  I shudder to think at what the plans might be for her 16th birthday!

I am all for small family celebrations with a few close friends.  Doing dorky things like decorating cupcakes together, and choosing a special meal to cook and eat.   A birthday should definitely be a celebration – but it should have more to do with how your child came into your life – sharing birth stories, or stories from what it felt like the first time you held your child, looking through photo albums together and talking about funny moments from different years – creating a time line, scrapbook or journal that you and your child can add to each year and remark upon the growth – that is what birthdays are all about.  Not the pile of presents, or the over the top party that leaves everyone exhausted, and cranky, and definitely does not honor the child – but only leaves a funny taste in your mouth…. 

Where did all my free time go?… December 10, 2007

Sitting at home alone, I cannot help but think what I might be missing out on.  What do people do after dark?  I guess I used to have an idea, but I don’t think I ever really capitalized on it.  Having all that freedom – before children arrived that is.  What did I used to do?  How did I spend my time? 

I know that I spent a lot of time curled up on our couch watching Law and Order reruns (I can never seem to remember exactly who does what in each episode, therefore I continuously become sucked into watching them over and over again), drinking peppermint tea, and eating some variation of snack food.  I guess occasionally I also must have worked out – either taking my time and going to a yoga class, or trying to fit in a run after work.  But how exactly what was I trying to fit a run into?  What the heck else did I do with my life before I had children?

Sure, I worked – but I became really good, really fast at not bringing my work home with me.  I had a husband – but he was usually too busy working late to include in my evening plans – yes we did have the occasional weeknight dinner together, and I know that he also came home for the odd meal which usually meant I would have to either cook him something to eat, or decide which take out menu to use.
I was also working on my master’s degree – but in retrospect I really wasn’t that busy all of the time – especially compared to the busyness of having children.  The reality of being on call 24/7 differs from work schedules, dinner dates, and assignment deadlines.

Not to denigrate the work of others who do not have children.  They are busy doing important work – leading full lives, enjoying themselves, establishing themselves in their careers and creating relationships.  I don’t take away their busyness and say that it is all pointless compared to the busyness of those with children.  However, I do know that it is just different somehow – and I really do not know what it can be compared to. 

I believe it is the resulting lack of “me” time that is built into your day as a mother that can be the most difficult to accept.  Especially when you had some sort of life, engaged in something fulfilling before you had children.  Independence of career, of financial stability, of coursework, and having the freedom to do what you want with your life are pretty much taken for granted by young women – who are not always prepared for the unending commitment that comes with the birth of your first child.  It takes a great effort to remain your self through the entire process, which I believe is completely important in maintaining your sense of sanity.  But there is no doubt about it, your entire life will change. 

I have likened it to Marine boot camp – where you are completely stripped down to nothing and then slowly built back up again.  I believe this is a necessary process on the path to motherhood, and really fatherhood to for that matter.  It is absolutely amazing how demanding a little 7lb bundle of a baby can be – and how you will adapt your entire life around this little being at the snap of their finger. 

The role of a parent in these early stages is really to render one’s self helpless – to absolutely give yourself over to your child – respond to their every need – let them know that you are there for them.  There is too much talk about spoiling a child by picking them up too much, or by responding to every cry – it is extremely hard to spoil a newborn – they need love unconditionally, as sleep deprived as you may be.  Besides spoiling has more to do with the level of consumer consumption that your child undergoes in their lifetime – how quickly you respond to their requests to “have, have, have” – rather than simply holding your child in the middle of the night when they have had a bad dream.

Now that my children are somewhat older (4 years and 20 months), I do see “me” moments slipping back into my life.  There is now time for sips, and sometimes even cups, of peppermint tea; some mornings I can finish most sections of the newspaper; requests are not as demanding, or at least they can wait, until Mommy is finished reading the page, stirring the soup, brushing her teeth.  I don’t take these moments for granted as I once did – time by myself has become precious – now if I could only do something about those bloody Law & Order reruns!

My own private energy crisis… December 6, 2007

At what age do you lose the ability to leap out of bed and face the day with boundless energy and enthusiasm?  At what age do you all of a sudden find yourself in dire need of a dose of caffeine before you can even contemplate putting together a complete thought?  And trust me some days the dose needs to be heavier than others!

I ask myself these questions as my two children bound into our bedroom – terrier-like – anywhere between the hours of 5:30 a.m. and 7:00 a.m.  A few mornings last week my 20  month old son believed it to be most engaging to begin his day at 4:30 a.m.  Not very thoughtful of him, I say.

I am not that far gone that I have forgotten what it was like to have an endless supply of energy.  I am just not sure when things changed, exactly.  Perhaps, at some point in college.  After all, that is the point in my life when I began to drink copious amounts of coffee.  A self-perpetuating ritual of dumping about half a tin of milk, and equal amounts of sugar into a paper cup.  At least at that point in my life if I didn’t really feel like awakening and going to class I didn’t really have to.  Most of my morning classes were taught in large sections, so unless there was an exam that day no one would notice my absence.  Plus, college was also a time in my life when I could party with the best of them until about 3:00 a.m. or 4:00 a.m. and still make it through the next day on 2 or 3 hours of sleep.  Oh, if only I could have kept some of that energy on reserve.

Prior to having children I often bounded out of bed myself on weekends, much to the annoyance of my husband.  Unless of course we were out drinking the night before – a graduate school custom that we perhaps outgrew a little later than others.  In my previous life as a childless woman – I was often awake at first light.  Now I could easily fall asleep bathed in the atomic glow of the sun at high noon!  Saturdays were often my long-run days (again, this neatly fits into my previous life) and 6:30 a.m. or 7:00 a.m. always seemed like a good time to start – especially in the summer when the heat and humidity always provided an easy excuse not to run at all.

I think the practice of practically mainlining caffeine began with the introduction of children into our sleep patterns.  Having the second child only intensified the need to drink as much coffee in the shortest period of time possible.  I find myself exhausted in the morning.  My children sleep through the night, I generally fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, and on most nights I get at least seven hours of sleep.  That may not sound like much – but trust me in parenting lingo seven hours of uninterrupted sleep is a small slice of heaven.   My energy crisis has less to do with what happens at night, and more with what happens during the day.  Energy is sucked out of me in little fits and bursts – right from the early hours until it is lights out for the kid-lets at 8:00 p.m.  It is all the usual suspects of modern life – combined with children – unanswered emails, phone calls to return, books to read, games to play, articles to write, research to conduct, meals to prep and cook, husbands to look after, relatives to worry about, presents to buy, groceries to order – and so on, and so off.  I am not complaining – I love my kids, I love my life, I just hope that the price of coffee doesn’t go up….