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Posts tagged ‘children’

Mar 30

13 Comments

Cathy: April Fool’s Day 2008-2009

It was no joke when I headed to the hospital at 2 am last April Fool’s Day. By 5:01 am Baby C entered the world. I’ll spare you the gory details, because it’s a year later, so it doesn’t matter. What matters is a year ago, we brought home this:

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Sorry pic is blurry, my cellphone was what was handy at the opportunity of the little squidge sleeping with her brand new Daddy, so small and frail.

Now, so many changes later: many developmental stages, many sleepless nights, weigh-ins, vaccinations, teethings, fumbles, new words come and gone while she tries to navigate the physical world and speaks to us in burbled sentences and very clear gestures. We have the pleasure to know this wonderfully funny, perceptive, never blinking, unflinching, deliberate and beautiful girl. A gift at a late life stage, amazed we were even able to have her. She is our joy daily, big and strong, and easy-going.

And if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have connected so strongly with the women involved in this community, wouldn’t have B&M’ed about sleepless nights, naps while nursing, frustratedly typing at my manuscript while she kicks the keyboard. I’ve kvetched so and welcomed much needed commiseration in the past year here. Thanks, fellow moms, no joke. May your ideas turn into beautiful completed creations, get published, galleried and sold and your children grow well.

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Mar 24

5 Comments

Brittany: The Perfect Day

squirrelfriend332309If you had asked me a month ago what made a perfect day, I would’ve described one that was out-of-the-ordinary, one in which rare pleasures were to be had. But that was before I actually identified this perfect day. I wrote about it on my personal blog when it happened. It was magical in its ordinariness. I was picking Sam up from preschool, heard the train in the distance, we hopped in the car and chased it down Main Street. Then to celebrate, we went to McDonald’s, for aptly named Happy Meals, and spent the afternoon in the park picnicking, where a friendly squirrel stopped by to investigate and beg for fries.

There is nothing special about trains, and fast food, and parks, and squirrels. If I made you a list and said, “This is what made me happy today,” it would all seem kind of banal. But it was the way the moment unfolded, fun onto fun onto fun, that made it so memorable, and feel so magical. It was as if the universe had aligned itself just for us.

sam32309And the fact that it happened even once was wonderful. It was the proverbial “perfect day.”  A Platonic perfect form. The kind of day you think about wistfully, because there will never be another one like it. Except there was. Today.

Last night was one of those hellish tragi-comedies of parenthood. Sam was sick and wanted to snuggle with Tom. Tom would cuddle him to sleep, leave, and Sam would wake up screaming for him. Over and over and over. The screaming woke up John, whose crying woke up Sam, whose screaming woke up John. No one got a wink of sleep until almost 3 a.m. Then John woke up for the day at 6:30, but Sam and Tom slept in, causing Sam to sleep through the whole first hour of preschool. I had to keep him home today and knew that if I was going to make it through the day on three hours of sleep with both my sanity, and children, intact we were going to have to get out of the house.

john32309I asked Sam if he wanted to go to one of those indoor inflatable playgrounds, but he said he’d rather go to the park and feed fries to the squirrels. So after John woke up from his nap, we headed out to McDonald’s, where in a rare burst of burgeoning 2-year-old language, Sam told me he wanted, “a hamburger with cheese and fries.” No ambiguity there.

We went to the park. It was a bright, beautiful South Carolina day. Sun on our shoulders. 65 degrees. Our squirrel friend arrived and shared our lunch. We went to the playground. The boys chose to swing and play in the dirt, and we were packing up to leave when I heard the train horn in the distance. squirrelfriend2323091We threw our stuff in the car, tore down Main Street as fast as the 35 mph speed limit would allow, parked in a prime train-watching space by the railroad tracks, and waited for the train to go by. It was a longer-than-usual train, with two bright red engines, seven hopper cars, and five tanker cars. 2-year-old heaven, by anyone’s estimation. We followed it back down Main Street and then came home tired, dirty, happy, and a little amazed.

Perhaps with perfect days, as with all things, you have to identify what it is you want first, and then the universe provides. Again and again and again.

Dec 23

4 Comments

Kelly: Lost in Bed, Bath and Beyond

Well, put me in the Worst Mama Ever category: Yesterday, I lost my children in Bed, Bath and Beyond. We were shopping for sheets, reveling in the feel of the new “Beech” sateen that feels like silk but washes up like easy-care cotton. We had just finished singing Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer along with Muzak, even holding hands while we were singing, and then POOF! The next thing I knew, they had disappeared. I tried to remain calm, quietly calling for them as I knew they had to be just one or two aisles over playing hide-and-go-seek from me. But when I couldn’t find them anywhere in the linens section, I started calling their names a little more forcefully while quickly looking up and down the aisles.

An excruciating moment later, I heard “Kelly, please come to Customer Service. Your children are waiting for you.” over the PA system. Linens was in the back of the store; Customer Service was in the front of the store. How the heck did they get all the way up there? Along with the flood of relief came the red-faced pang of embarrassment. I was certain every woman around me was saying to herself, “What kind of mother would loose her children in Bed, Bath and Beyond?” When I saw them, I could tell that Livvie was on the verge of a tearful breakdown while Sarah had that “Oops, I think I’m about to get in trouble again” look on her face.

That’s the thing with twins. I’m sure those of you who have children fairly close in age may experience this as well, but let me tell ya, there’s something different about that twin bond that will allow one to lead the other over a cliff in a heartbeat. My instigator, as you may have already guessed, is most definitely Sarah. Sometimes she’s so darned sneaky that, even though I may be incredibly ticked off at her in the moment, I’m secretly impressed at her thought process. She thought she could sneak away, drag her willing sister with her, have a little adventure in the store, and then casually wait up front like a little angel waiting for the first snow of Christmas. Case in point, dinner last night. I was trying to get her to eat just two little bites of peas and corn, just two little bites! She put the first one in her mouth, sloshed it around in there for a millennium, and then put the second bite in there before swallowing the first. We have these little battles often. Put food in mouth. Chew food incessantly. Put that “I’m gonna gag” face on. And then either finally swallow it or spit it out. Since I only asked her to eat two bites, I figured that was not too much to swallow, so I told her she didn’t have to eat anymore but she could not get up from the table until she swallowed what was in her mouth. I know, Worst Mama Ever again for trying to get my children to eat just a little bite of something other than PB&J or grilled cheese. A moment later she said, “Done, Mommy!” and opened her empty mouth to show me. I gave her a hearty congratulations on her success and asked her to bring her plate and cup to the sink. She dropped the plate in the sink, dumped the milk cup in the sink, and with a big smile on her face, quickly headed to the pantry to get a cookie for dessert. It was then that I looked in the sink and immediately realized she had not swallowed squat. She had simply spit it into her milk cup! So yep, there I was outwardly angry that she had lied to me, but secretly darn impressed that she thought of that! I told her that I did not appreciate her lying to me and sent her off to an early bed. Livvie, of course, reveled in the whole situation because she quickly realized she now had Mama and Daddy to herself for the rest of the night.

So back to our little adventure yesterday morning….we had planned to go to Chick-Fil-A for lunch, their reward for being good little angels while we were out running errands, but the disappearing act nixed that, and it was straight home for, what else, a cold PB&J before an early nap. I managed to keep my calm through a very quiet lunch and then put them down for a nap, in separate rooms, telling them both how much they scared me when I couldn’t find them in the store. I hope I put the fear of God in them, for I’m not sure my heart can take that again anytime soon.

We have two weeks at home together over these Christmas holidays. I’ve often wondered how stay-at-moms do it. Yeah, I definitely have quite the juggling act working full-time at the college, managing my jewelry business part-time, and raising twin five-year-olds, but on our first day home together I lost them in a major department store! I think we’ll stay home the rest of the Christmas break and just make lots of art. Maybe I’ll put chains on all the exterior doors while I’m at it…you know, just to be sure.

Dec 11

7 Comments

Kelly: Emotional Writing? Superwoman Unraveling…

So let me just tell you about my last week or so. I think it’ll be emotional writing at its finest. I had my last arts festival of the fall this past weekend: Market Days in Tallahassee. It’s a very large show, and this year was the first time I’ve participated in it. It’s also an indoor show, and I was on a center aisle, which meant I had to develop some sort of side and back walls with no tent. Over a month ago, I talked to DH about this. I did have a plan for my pipe and drape, and I drew it out for him. Five weeks before the show, mind you. Well, the Monday before the show, my plan was still a pile of PVC sitting on the side of the house. I had to work late two nights last week, Tuesday and Thursday. I had my first intense vestibular rehab appointment on Wednesday (you can read about that here). Each night when I got home, there was some crisis or other to deal with, and, of course, DH couldn’t help the girls with their homework that week because he was too busy making my pipe set up, which he’s had FIVE WEEKS to do. To add to that he said, “You’re going to have to start helping the girls with their homework. I don’t have the patience.” So okay, I guess it doesn’t matter that I get minimal help with the girls in the morning because he leaves for work at 6:15am, and I guess it doesn’t matter than he and the girls get home at 4pm as opposed to my 5:30-6:00pm, just in time for dinner and baths…unless, of course, he’s gone to work out before he picks up the girls…I can’t remember the last time I had time to work out. He doesn’t have the patience to help the girls with their homework, so that now falls to me as well? When am I supposed to do this?

Typically DH thankfully does load up my van for me for my shows and I’m very grateful for that, but since he hadn’t quite finished with the PVC and I had to teach a class Thursday night, that left the load up to me on Friday morning before I hit the road. Did I mention the part about the miserable cold I’ve been battling for the past two weeks? Blowing snot everywhere, I was, and still am. I usually travel to shows with a fellow artist friend. We had planned to leave Jacksonville at 10am, but she called me about 9:45am and told me she had decided to leave at 9am and would just see me over there during set up. Did I tell you that DH made the pipe set up for her as well? The same pipe set up I was trying to corral and load in to my van when she called to tell me she had already left? Are you feeling my frustration and lack of appreciation? By the time I got over to Tallahassee, I had exhausted a whole box of tissues and frankly was in a foul mood. She was already nearly set up, just waiting on me to deliver her the pipe set up that my DH built. When I apparently wasn’t moving fast enough, she reminded me that she needed to leave by 3pm to get back to Jacksonville for her son’s game. Fine. I’ve got a miserable cold, I feel like crap, but I’m moving as fast as I can. Gimme a freakin’ break.

I made it through the show, fairly decent sales given the economy, but not really decent enough to warrant the higher booth fee and added cost of having to create pipe and drape. Trying to find the positive, at least I was inside, not outside battling the weather. When I got home Sunday night at nearly 10pm, as par for the course on most of my trips, the house was a disaster and DH was grumpy from having the girls all weekend by himself. He doesn’t seem to realize that these shows are no walk in the park. They are a pain in the a** and I’m working that very same a** off the entire weekend, but no rest for the weary. I was back to work on Monday morning, only to come home to a very grumpy husband and the girls’ homework staring at me at the end of the day.

Then it was back to therapy Tuesday afternoon for more dizzy torture. Tuesday night was “Polar Express” night at the girls’ school, and I had already promised them we would go, dizzy nausea be damned. To make things easier, I figured we’d just go to Chick-fil-A for dinner (their favorite) and then head over to the school. I thought since DH had had them all weekend by himself and was so grumpy Monday afternoon that getting them out of the house for a while would give him a break as well. I got home a little early since my therapy ended at 4pm, so I beat them home, but the minute they got home, things went downhill. Sarah was distraught because she lost her gold locket on the playground, the same gold locket that I only let her wear because she promised and promised and promised again that she wouldn’t try to take it off. Well, apparently she tried to take it off and lost it. I have to admit I wasn’t too happy about it either since, in my stupidity, I had put the locket on a 14K gold chain when the cheap chain it came with turned her neck green. Learned that lesson!

We made it through that drama and I got them loaded up in the van to head to Chick-fil-A. On the exit ramp from I-95, as we made the turn onto Duval Road, Sarah’s car seat dumped to the center of the van. Apparently in his grumpiness Monday afternoon, DH had not checked to make sure it was locked in correctly when he reinstalled it after unloading my van. Of course, I was on a road with absolutely no where to pull over, while Sarah was laying sideways in her car seat as I tried to keep her steady with one hand reaching behind me and one hand on the wheel. Livvie, bless her heart, was trying to push her back up with all her might. We found a spot to pull over near the light to Chick-fil-A, and while I was getting her resettled and the seat tightened in correctly, the dozens of extra cars spilling out of the Chick-fil-A parking lot caught my eye. Great! It’s Cow Night at Chick-fil-A! Whoo hoo! No way we’re getting in there, so we went through the drive through. The server forgot half my order, which, of course, I didn’t notice until we were already moving on down the road to the school.

Now back up a minute and let me put all this in context. While dealing with all this family and art show drama for the past week, I’ve had a hellacious month at work. Long story short (though this is already a long story, isn’t it?), I have college-wide responsibility for the Student Life department (we have five campuses), yet I don’t have college-wide authority over the people who carry out our program. Yeah, doesn’t make sense to me either. That means while I’m working on deadline putting our college-wide calendar together (click here to see this term’s calendar as an example), the rest of our staff does not possess, shall we say, the same urgency I have. Well, hell no! They aren’t the ones responsible for getting the damned thing written, designed, printed and delivered on time! They’re just responsible for getting me their information to include in it! Remember my whole, “I think I just might go teach elementary school discussion”? This is part of the reason why.

Let me add just one more thing. I am the president of the Greater Jacksonville Chi Omega Alumnae Chapter. Now understand that I didn’t KNOW I was the president of the Greater Jacksonville Chi Omega Alumnae Chapter until I started getting phone calls and emails from people asking for information. I finally learned the previous president had told everyone (at a meeting I missed) that I was the new president, and neglected to inform me or give me any of the materials and giant box of stuff to carry out the job. She and I had had one discussion in which she asked me if I’d consider it, and I told her I’d think about it. Apparently she took that as a yes. When I learned this, I sent out an email to our chapter trying to find another volunteer but have had no luck. In the meantime, our annual Holiday Tea is December 21. Guess who’s responsible? Guess who was stuffing and labeling the 157 invites when the girls and DH got home Tuesday, Sarah distraught from having lost her necklace?

So what happens when you’re trying to live by the “Someday is Today” mantra and your Superwoman powers start to unravel? What happens when you have so much in your brain that you constantly walk into a room only to completely forget why the heck you walked in there? What happens when you need to tell your daughters to put something on, only the name of those rubber and canvas things that go on your feet totally escapes you? I guess I have to take some responsibility for my own downfall. There are things that I don’t have to do. I don’t have to sell my wares on the art show circuit, yet we’ve invested so much in my business that I feel obligated to bring some cash back into our family coffers. I don’t have to be the Greater Jacksonville Chi Omega Alumnae Chapter president (until I can beg someone else to take over), yet my name is out there, and I’m not the type of person who will let the ball drop. And yes, I do have to carry out my college-wide responsibilities at work, but it sure would be nice to actually get paid for that college-wide role, not just have it given to me because the powers that be know that I’ll get the job done (don’t even get me started on how I’m supposed to coordinate rugby clinics at the college for the UK rugby team coming to Jacksonville when my particular campus doesn’t even have facilities for such a thing). So what happens when all this happens? You find a way to carry on, that’s what happens. You thank the good Lord you have the skills to actually create wares to sell on the art show circuit. You thank God that people think highly enough of you to give you responsibility, knowing that you are the best person for the job. You thank Him for blessing you with a fairly understanding husband, two incredible little girls, and a roof over your head. And you write it all down. You get it all out by venting to those you know “get it”. You take a deep breath. You have a glass of wine. Maybe a little chocolate. And then you say, “Hmmmm…okay, I feel just a little bit better now.”

Nov 18

14 Comments

Alana: Is writing compatible with children?

Virginia Wolf didn’t think so. She sacrificed being a mother for being a writer. And didn’t one of those early women writers actually give up her children so she could write? And can we even put down the proliferation of our best-loved Irish writer, Maeve Binchy, down to the fact she has no children?

OK, I hear you saying, what about JK Rowling? Millions of words and millions of pounds later, she’s a shining example of successfully combining motherhood and writing. Aha, I suggest. She writes children’s books. That means she probably gets all her ideas from them, and can count reading over her work as quality child time. She can even arrange playdates with Daniel Radcliffe.

A room of our own? That’s a laugh. I don’t even have a pen of my own. My office? My desk? My room? A large Orla Liely bag which contains all my current musings and laptop that I clutch to my breast looking for a quiet corner of the house. Sometimes the bag retreats to Starbucks and sets up office there. I’m a writer in waiting: waiting for the kids to sleep, waiting for the Dora half hour on TV, waiting for my time to come after everyone else in the house has been taken care of.

I met John Boyne recently. I discovered he wrote the first draft of his bestselling, multi-award-winning, Hollywood-film-showing novel, Boy in the Striped Pyjamas in two and a half days. TWO AND A HALF DAYS! That’s how long it takes me to scrape the Wheetabix off my laptop so I can find the delete button to rid myself of the appalling drivel I wrote the previous week in between cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, shopping, arse-wiping, knee-kissing, jigsaw constructing, rocket making (cosmic pink with tinfoil windows), and remembering to breathe. Like all good writers, it seems I need a wife. But my kids need a mother, so what’s a woman (writer) to do??

I’ve just had to stop writing this in order to construct a rather fetching ‘tent’ in the playroom by draping some blankets over some chairs. I’m pretty sure Stephen King doesn’t have this problem. (Not that anyone is likely to want to get in a tent, no matter how pink, with Stephen King.) Still, the point is, it’s hard. I know enough wonderful women writers who are mums struggling with the same issues as me (and actually, I’m sure it’s not restricted to writers.) How do we find time to do what we love amid doing what else we love? To clarify, I mean being with our children is the other thing we love. I did not mean, and never will mean, thinking about what food to give us all, shopping for the food I’ve still not thought about, cooking the food I’m still not sure what it’s going to be — just something that starts with the left over onion in the fridge and see where my (lack of) inspiration takes me, washing up the dishes the food was not eaten off, hoovering the food off the floor, and washing the clothes that are covered with the food I’ve been thinking about all day.

How do I correlate wanting to be a full-time mum with being a full-time writer? How do I even correlate being a part-time mum with a part-time writer? I can’t, because I can never be a part-time mum or a part-time writer. Both are in my blood. Both are what I am. I cannot successfully be one without the other. If I was no longer a mum, I would have no inspiration to write. If I was no longer a writer I would be a terrible, disgruntled unhappy mum.

I don’t know if that makes me bad at both, or just in one of those places that no matter how often I ask the question, there really just is no answer.

So I’ll carry on being both, doing both, shunting one in front of the other occasionally, trying to find the balanced line. I’ve just danced with them to Abba, and read the Princess book. Again. Now they’re having tea with dad, and I’m clutching my Orla Kieley bag to my chest. My time.

Nov 10

8 Comments

Cathy: I miss my kids

K, hanging -- what you don't see are the 10 HS girls just outside the frame

This whole juggling creativity and kids thing is swinging the pendulum in the opposite direction lately. I am, if not actively writing in my manuscript, doing some research re: astronomy and observatories online, albeit while also hopping blogs, etc. I have been regularly contributing to the weekly contest, to keep me on my toes creatively, and writing a blog per week, which usually means I am analyzing how the writing process is going for the manuscript. I have been accused by my family of spending more time with the computer than anyone else does.

My young teen has started becoming more interested in hanging out in a neighborhood clique after school than in playing video games. That is fantastic in my book, except that I don’t see as much of him. When he comes home, he zips upstairs to shower before dinner, do homework, and after dinner, he disappears upstairs again. I knew this was coming, as I remember doing the same at the same age, but he’s really adept at it. I think he’s in the room with me, so I start talking, while doing something else, of course. I turn to check if he’s listening, and he’s become invisible!

On fishing trip -- S draws instead

On fishing trip -- S draws instead

S, the 10-year-old, is on a bender lately, too, secluding himself to draw comics of space adventures. Now part of this is because he keeps losing TV and video game privileges until his room is clean and stays that way. I will not spend another valuable weekend afternoon on that project again.

Baby C is generally in my arms while I’m typing away at the PC, but I can’t help feeling like I could be doing more with her. Yes, I do play with her, too, but you know, she’ll probably be typing soon herself at this rate. I’ve also started leaving her home with her grandma more often lately so I can accomplish more of the errands than I can by bringing her along. That in and out of the baby seat business and strollering her here and there is exhausting and time consuming, Therefore, I can double or better errand capacity without her, as I’m no longer nursing exclusively and she can eat food and drink juice.

Baby C -- naptime, not on me

Baby C -- naptime, not on me

It’s nice that it has been relatively quiet for writing, and I’ve been accomplishing more as an independent person. However, I can’t help feeling like I need to be with my kids more than I have been lately.

So, my plans for the weekend, most likely past as you read this, is to amp up some indie time with each and some family fun. Friday night, I am taking S without taking anyone else to a special needs kids event at a local zoo, maybe get to pet some of the animals. Saturday, I am making Honey take S on a fishing trip in the morning with dads/stepdads and their aspies, while I take K to a café for some face time while, hopefully, Baby C naps. Sat. afternoon, we’re getting together with some of the families from our aspie group, so S gets ‘peer interaction,’ K gets to hang with some friends, and frankly, so do we, as parents. Sunday, I think we’ll have a relatively lazy day at home. I want to talk the guys into playing a game or doing a puzzle all together. But Honey still needs to mow that lawn! I’ll comment an update if my plans went off without a hitch or derailed.

When Monday rolls back around, I will get back to my writing better, refreshed by the love of my family. Right — as long as the usual chaos doesn’t overtake us.

Oct 28

3 Comments

Kelly: Fascinated by Little Minds

As a mother of twins, most days I feel like I’m living in a real life nature vs. nurture theory experiment. Will two children who popped out of the same womb three minutes apart, and who live in the same house with the same parents, and attend the same schools with the same teacher in the same classroom be basically the same child? I am here to give you a resounding “No way, Jose!”

Take a look at these graphs. This was a homework assignment in my girls’ math awareness series. I taught a class Monday night, and DH left these sitting out on the kitchen counter for me to see when I got home. Both girls followed the directions: color in one number 1 on the first row, color in two number 2’s on the second row, color in three number 3’s on the third row, etc. And both graphs are technically correct, yet look at how different they are. This was fascinating to me! And what fascinated me more was which graph belonged to which child. To date, Olivia has very much been a “color in the lines” kind of girl. All her drawings are typically very well thought out and organized; Sarah, on the other hand, has been a vertible Jackson Pollack. Looking at these then, I assumed that the organized picture was Livvie’s and the all over the board picture was Sarah’s. What that’s saying about the true meaning of assume? You got it. This time, the organized picture was Sarah’s and the all over the board picture was Olivia’s! I need a child psychologist to figure this one out.

Working in education, I hear so much about nature vs. nurture and how it affects not only our children’s success in the classroom, but moreover their success as creative, positive contributors to society as a whole. Through my visits to elementary school classrooms lately and my talks with those teachers, parent involvement is certainly crucial to children’s success; that’s the nurture part. Yet, though elementary, these simple math exercises seem to also point to the major differences nature sends us out into the world with. Interesting, don’t you think? I’m a certified Myers-Briggs and True Colors trainer, so I’m always fascinated by personality differences and how we all look at the world through different lenses, particularly for me when it comes to my twin girls. So what are your thoughts? What have you learned from your children’s differences in personalities? This should be an interesting lesson in creativity!

Sep 18

8 Comments

Alana: Leaving the slippers at home

“I did it!”… to quote my nearly-three-year-old (a phrase only surpassed by her favourite indignant statement “I do it!”)

I’m into my third week of writing (OK, I was being very optimistic with those ten hours a week — typically, just as I get an inch, Daisy takes away a mile and dropped her lunchtime sleep the EXACT week I get childcare for Poppy!). Anyway, I’m not going to moan — Daisy is settled in playschool, Poppy is adapting to the indignation of my minor abandonment, and I’ve had two weeks of writing three mornings a week.

What have I done? I’ve set up a website (all constructive criticism welcome!), written a submission for an anthology, sent three article pitches, made contact with a new magazine, and contributed to Starbucks’ world domination (I have to leave the house when Poppy’s childminder arrives and that great American institution taking over this small Emerald Isle does the best green tea…).

I have written. I have thought. I have pondered. I feel ten feet tall. Not only am I using my brain, I’m shaking the dust off those old workclothes. Yes, I know, I’m only going to sit in Starbucks with my notebook and pen, but it’s all part of the empowerment. I dress up as if going to work…because I am. This is real. This is job. I even wear lipstick.

There is something about leaving the house having washed first and wearing clothes without an elasticised waistline that makes it feel more real. I made a decision never to write in my slippers. No slipper scrolling for me. Slippers are for slouching. So proper shoes and proper clothes it must be. And a large mug of green tea. Life is almost perfect….

Sep 11

3 Comments

Kelly: Sleeping Beauty Has Awakened..and She’s a Reader!

Sleeping Beauty

Cathy’s Pleasant Surprises post got me thinking about “being present,” what that means and how it relates to what we are all trying to do here. DH and I had a “moment” the other night with our girls. We were reading their bedtime story and DH didn’t have his glasses on, so he struggled over a few words here and there. It was a fairly involved story, the German fairy tale on which Sleeping Beauty is based, and the reading level was pretty advanced. Definitely not one of those board books with one or two sentences per page, but rather more like middle school reading level. When DH started missing a word here and there, Sarah actually started correcting him. She did this several times, and then DH said, “Well, would you like to read it instead?”, you know, in that “sarcastic Daddy” tone. Then, lo and behold, she did just that. She picked up the story where he left off, word for word, like she was reading it right off the page. We’re talking a story with phrases like “the castle was surrounded with a thorny hedge of briars” and “the soldiers were at their battlements”. “Battlements,” for Pete’s sake! This is a five-year-old! And it’s not a book we read often simply because the stories are rather long and involved! She went on like this for several very long paragraphs while DH and I looked on in awe. The book came with a narrative CD of the stories, and I realized she had actually memorized the story; sometimes the girls listen to the CD while they are going to sleep at night. I have a genius on my hands! (said the proud and over-zealous Mama….)

So back to the “being present” portion of this broadcast. You just blink, and BOOM!, one of your five-year-olds is “reading” at a sixth grade level. An over-exaggeration maybe, but it begs the point: so much happens when we are not paying attention. That’s the interesting thing about having twins. I have been paying attention enough to notice what Sarah’s strengths are and what Livvie’s strengths are, and they are very different. Sarah is very strong in the language area, as evidenced by that moment we had the other night. She also already has my knack for remembering song lyrics. I’ve always chalked mine up to being a musician; I’m a classically trained pianist and I’ve been taking guitar for about seven years now. Hers just seems to come with that strong grasp of words and memory. Livvie thrives in art, music, and motor skills. She doesn’t need much help from me to create some pretty impressive art pieces, and yesterday afternoon I watched as she set up her own little three piece band—of piano, Tupperware container, and piece of paper—and went to patting out a rhythmic pattern even my guitar teacher would be impressed with. The girl’s got chops! Watching this, I realize what will be one of my biggest creative challenges involving my children: how to bring out the best in each when they are the exact same age and nearly inseparable. My challenge will be in guiding them both to thrive in the areas they excel, yet still keep them on target in the areas they don’t…and figure out how to do it all at the same time! Yikes! I’m open to suggestions!

Sep 2

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Kelly: Life Without Cable

Before the storm REALLY arrived, we were able to provide a little outside entertainment.

Before the storm REALLY arrived, we were able to provide a little outside entertainment.

The family and I were supposed to be on our way to north Georgia today (Friday as I write this) to visit my oldest and dearest friend Becky in Atlanta and my great aunt Olivia just south of Chattanooga, but the gods have turned against us. See, my magic bus (read minivan, but I’m way too cool to drive a minivan) is acting up. Engine’s running like a top, tires are fine, brakes are fine, A/C is cranking out ice-cold air. So what’s not working, you ask? The radio, the CD player, and most important when  taking two five-year-olds on a seven-hour drive, THE DVD PLAYER! Add to that the fact that we haven’t been able to find anyone to watch Isabelle, all the kennels are booked, lovely Gustav and Hanna are churning in the Caribbean and the Atlantic, we decided we just better stay home. Which brings me back to entertaining two five-year-olds…

Creative Mess Making

Creative Mess Making

As Tropical Storm Fay took up residence over North Florida for three days last week, we lost all electronic means of entertaining the girls. Now, don’t get me wrong; I’m not a big proponent of TV. I don’t really watch much myself at all (except for Antiques Roadshow and TLC’s What Not to Wear, but that’s another story), but when your children are up by 6am, your DH leaves for work at 6:15am, and you are responsible for getting yourself ready for work, your kids fed and ready for school, lunches packed, taking the kids to school and getting yourself to work on time (which remarkably rarely happens), a little Between the Lions and Max and Maya on PBS can be your best friends. But last week, for FIVE DAYS, we had no Between the Lions or Max and Maya. Now grant you, we did get power back after a day but did not get cable or internet back for five days, and there’s just so much Barbie Mariposa on DVD you can take. “Take them outside!” you say. (Did you miss the part about the tropical storm hanging over us for three days?) Oh sure, we’ll take them outside and let them play in the river, which was literally in the backyard.

Barbie and Friends posing for a photography session

Barbie and Friends posing for a photography session

Public schools closed down the Wednesday before the storm hit, so that meant I either had to take the day off or take the girls to work with me. Luckily, I work in Student Life so taking them to work with me was not that big of a deal…..until I had to keep them entertained. No amount of banner paper, markers, or drawer full of kids’ stuff I keep in my desk would do. Nope, the novelty of being at Mommy’s school was just too distracting. Once they got ALL THAT STUFF OUT, they decided they wanted to play hide and seek instead…in my office suite…under my desk, under my assistant’s desk, in the bathroom, in our workroom. The cuteness factor was even wearing off for my 19-year-old college students working in my office, so by 11:30 am, I gave up and we went home, and we were home the duration of the week.

While we were able to enjoy a fairly decent day on Thursday, even with rising waters, the storm started hitting us full force Thursday night, and we lost power from about 3 am Friday morning until about Noon Friday. By then the storm was really on us and the water was rising quickly. We resorted to letting the girls watch jaunts of Barbie Mariposa and Little Mermaid between tearing the house apart with toys everywhere while DH and I sweated out the rising waters. We ended up with about an inch of water in the house on the ground floor on Friday, but thankfully we just have a painted concrete floor down there and were able to get everything up off the ground.

48 hours AFTER the storm

48 hours AFTER the storm

Even after the storm passed late Friday, we still couldn’t let the girls get outside too much because we still had so much water everywhere. We live on a narrow island, essentially a road with houses on both sides of the street…the St. Johns River behind us and Brown’s Creek behind our neighbors across the street, and the two literally met. Our house was an island. So we continued with movie marathons, dress up parties, photo sessions, card games and random art projects throughout the rest of the weekend while trying to clean up the mess outside. It was a momentous moment for me: I did not even attempt to pick up inside the house for four days, and I still haven’t really cleaned up yet five days later. We were so grateful for Monday and back to school and work again! Our tides are still not back to normal; we’re still getting about a foot of water in the backyard with each high tide as Gustav and Hanna are gaining strength. Anybody want to move to Florida? 🙂 You can see all of my storm pictures with comments on what you’re seeing in my Flickr account here. Then while you’re in my Flickr account, go to the set called “Araceli Diaz photo shoot” and you can see what my house looks like on a normal day!

Sep 1

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Alana: A new job

Life is all about phases. Once I was the burning-the-candle-at-both-ends-highly-motivated-successful-career-girl, and then I became the sleep-deprived-slobber-covered-breeding-feeding-weary-worn-stay-at-home-mum. And now, as of tomorrow, I will become — wait for it — a PART-TIME WRITER!!

OK, the full title is full-time-mum-and-maker-of-my-husband’s-sandwiches-and-housekeeper-and-part-time-writer, but when I’m asked I might just stick to the last part. A new phase in our lives begins, and although I mourn the loss of what we have, I run full speed ahead to a new life. For three years my toddler has been mine, and we have been free, but this week she begins playschool 5 mornings a week. I have cared for my baby constantly for the precious 15 months of her life, but now I will have a childminder to look after her three mornings a week. I’m scared and I’m a little sad. But, I am going to write. I can hardly contain my joy. I burst little sniggers from my mouth. My mind jumps from list to adoringly written list to decide what shall be my first task. I feel new life breathing into my fuzzy brain. It’s only ten hours a week, but they are MY ten hours. Mine all mine. Ten hours! How many words can I write in ten hours? How many emails can I send? How many blogs can I read? How many blogs can I write? How many articles can I devise, and pitch and write and send? How much money can I earn? OK, the answer to the last question is probably not very much, but who cares? Who cares when I have ten whole glorious, gluttonous, gigantic hours to write? My ‘business plan’ shines out like gold on my pin-board and I check and re-check my breakdown of hours.

I love being a mum. It’s everything I thought and 1,000 times more. But I miss me. And for ten whole hours I get me again. So fellow writers, as you settle down to work tomorrow, feel me in your ranks…. And listen out for the sound of my pencils being sharpened. It’s the first task on my list.

Aug 18

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Kelly: Wonderfully Scary…Change

Nobody warned me. Nobody told me how hard this would be. But fighting back the tears…no, sobs…I found out first hand how hard it is. I’ve told you that my girls start kindergarten next week. We knew that was going to be a hard transition for them. But in looking toward that, I failed to see how hard today, the last day at their current school, would be. Not for them, but for me. They’ve been at this school since they were six months old…babyhood, toddlerhood, pre-school, pre-K…it’s all been there at this wonderful little faith-based school. It’s all we’ve known. And as I signed them in this morning for the last time, the tears that quickly came caught me a little off guard. I hugged Ms. Mary, thanked her for everything she’s done for my girls this year, and then told her we’d be back to visit. Then I went to see Ms. Barbara.

Funny thing about Ms. Barbara. For whatever reason, she moved with the girls every year except this last year for pre-K. She was with them in the baby room; she was with them in the toddler room and the two-year-old room; she and Ms. Belinda were their three-year-old preschool teachers. It wasn’t until pre-K that she was no longer their teacher. Yet every morning when they got there this year, and every afternoon before they’d let DH walk out the door with them, they had to hug Ms. Barbara’s neck.

I have to admit, the first couple of years, Ms. Barbara was not my favorite teacher. She seemed a little hard on the children. But by preschool, I saw how much she truly adored them and they her. Yes, she made them mind, but that was really a good thing, wasn’t it. She helped mold my girls into the well-mannered five-year-olds they are today. So yes, I had to see Ms. Barbara. As I was walking into her classroom, she was sitting down trying to straighten up and prepare for the last big day. When she looked up and saw me, she said, “Oh Lord, not my girls’ Mama, I’ve already been crying enough this morning!” Before she even stood up to give me a hug, we both already had tears streaming down our faces. I wanted to hug a couple more necks but I had to get out of there before I truly started sobbing. Wow. Unexpected…

Change is inevitable. I know that. Yet this thing called parenthood brings in so many new elements to what that change is. I’ve been so anxious for my girls’ making the change, hoping and praying that they’d adjust well, trying to allay their fears by telling them how exciting and fun going to “big girl school” will be, that I completely overlooked my perspective of the change and its effect on me. I sit here this morning a mother, but not the same mother I was yesterday morning. A short fifteen minutes of time changed me this morning. I’m sure this happens to all of us moms at some point. The realization hits that while we can guide and nurture and hope to mold who our children are, ultimately, there are other people in their lives that at times may have an even greater impact, and we are so incredibly blessed that these people have been in our children’s lives. Those are the Ms. Barbara’s and Ms. Belinda’s, the Ms. Tammy’s and Ms. Mary’s, and the Ms. Gaye’s and Ms. Jackie’s and Ms. Tawnda’s of the world. How do we teach our children to say goodbye when we are struggling so terribly with it ourselves? My girls didn’t see my tears this morning. I know after a week or two they’ll adapt just fine, as children always do. But I know they’ll have tears of their own when this realization hits them…when they have children of their own who face a milestone in this wonderfully scary thing called “growing up”. I pray I’m still around to help them through that day.

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