Different But the Same

How is it that two children borne of the same parents, with the same essential genetic makeup, can be so very different? Night and day may be a cliché, but if the cliché fits....

This morning in the wee, wee hours, Beckett awoke in tears, gums aching with the pain of sharp new baby teeth poking through their delicate surface. At 2 a.m. I was in his room, giving him Tylenol and a bottle. He had already awoken at 12:15 screaming with what we thought at the time was a nightmare. Scott brought him into our bed where he cuddled sleepily, chewing the tail of his beloved puppy dawg and giving us the sweetest smiles. When he seemed sleepy enough I put him back in his crib and he settled in cuddling his doggie.

Just as I was drifting off while watching Conan interview a stripper bellydancer, I was snapped back to the here and now with more screaming. This time, I went in and just tried stroking his hair and he settled down, until I walked out his door to go back to bed. I thought, "He always puts himself back to sleep, so I'll just let him cry it out and he'll be fine." Ha!

He cried for over 10 min. and I couldn't take it. Even burying my head couldn't help me escape. This is entirely unusual for Beckett who has been an excellent sleeper from day one. So, I ended up, back in Beck's room. This time I brought the big guns. Tylenol. A bottle. And cuddly time.

I lifted him from the crib and we settled in the cozy blue velvet chair in his room where we sit to read before his nap every day. I just cradled him in my arms and stroked his hair and forehead while he smiled sleepily up at me and played with my face. He talked softly to him and massaged his jaw and cheekbones. Before long he was very relaxed and starting to drift off so I put him back into his bed where he settled in peacefully and was asleep almost instantly.

With Brendan, I would have been up until 5 a.m. He would never let me sit and cuddle him and ease him back into sleep. He would have screamed at the top of his lungs the entire time, taking the bottle, but batting away the Tylenol. Instead of sitting quietly and rocking, I would have had to pace the floor until I was ready to drop. Each time he quieted and I would try to sit with him or place him back into his crib, he would start screaming again. And this would repeat until I finally just gave up and put him down on the floor with some toys, lying down beside him, and praying he would wear himself out quickly.

And this went on for three years, more or less.

Why are they so different?

There are many other ways.

By this age, Brendan was playing much more independently. He was taller and thinner. Their interests, too, were very different. Brendan has always noticed details. From the time he was six months old he would look up at the sky and point out airplanes, helicopters, birds, and bugs. He would pick flowers and give them to me and point at any little thing that caught his eye and want us to tell him what it was. And he's still like that today.

Beckett could walk past an airplane parked in the driveway and not notice it I think. He's much more about the experience of things. He's very physical and wants to climb on everything, including you.

I'm just constantly amazed at how different two members of the same family can be, especially siblings. Still, they are alike in one very important way.... They both exhibit a very great capacity to show love and joy. They both love each other very much and have fun together. So for now, their differences don't really matter.

They just fascinate me. And sometimes I wonder if it's that they are so very different or if it's me who's changed.

So, I'd love to know if you see major differences in your children. Are you and your siblings different? How did those differences affect your relationship? Did your parents try to make you or your siblings more like one another or compare you?

Jesus Loves the Little Children

Have I told you all how much I loved going to Vacation Bible School when I was a child?

Well, if I haven't, you should know that going to VBS was the highlight of my summer for several consecutive summers. There were a few years when I went to the one at my church and one at the big new Church of Christ in my hometown. I don't know exactly what it was, but I loved going.

Brendan is going to VBS this week at our church. It's a very different experience than the one I remember, but even better.

At our church it isn't actually called Vacation Bible School. It's called Kaleidoscope.

It's a huge program with probably 200 kids ranging in age from 4 to 12. Each age/class is designated as a different country or ethnic group. The children spend the week learning about their country and how Catholics in that country or that particular group worship God. If Christianity is not the dominant religion in that country, they may briefly touch on the other religions and how they worship God. They learn about the saints from that country. Culture. Food. Art and Music. It's really neat.

Last year – Brendan's first attending – he was a Native American. This year, his class is Ireland. I've loved hearing him tell me about how St. Patrick chased the snakes out of Ireland with his drum; about how a leprechaun has wrecked the classroom every day when the kids have left for snack time; his interpretation of the story about Jesus and Zacchaeus (it involved Zacchaeus stealing everyone's money and Jesus telling him to give it back.).

I don't guess he's going to become Pope overnight or anything, but I love that this experience has him thinking about and relating to God on a level he can understand. The one thing I really dislike about our church is that there is no Sunday School for children who haven't started Kindergarten yet. And I haven't met a 4-year or 5-year old yet who can sit through a homily and get much out of it. So, Kaleidoscope offers a terrific opportunity for the younger kids to connect in a way that makes sense to them.

Of course, Brendan tends to focus on the outrageous aspects of any thing he learns or hears. This week I've had to answer questions about who killed Jesus and why, whether or not St. Patrick was killed, as well as whether or not a leprechaun would wreck Santa's workshop. He also informed me that Santa has a factory, not a workshop.

I can't wait to hear what he comes home with today.

The Parting Glass

In one of those other lives I would have loved to lead if I hadn't stumbled into this one, I would have been involved in politics somehow. Probably as a reporter. My idols are Molly Ivins, Cokie Roberts, Mark Shields, Al Hunt, Bob Schieffer, James Carville, Paul Begala, and George Stephanopolous. And of course, Tim Russert.

His death saddens me more than I could have imagined the death of someone I didn't know personally could. I literally sat at a traffic light and bawled when I heard on Friday evening that he had died.

Tim Russert took over Meet the Press in 1991, just when I was becoming immersed in politics as an adult. I have always been a news and politics junkie. I remember watching the evening news as a very small child and asking my grandmother questions and listening as the adults around me talked politics. It sure seemed to happen a lot more back then than it does in my life now.

My whole life, politics has mattered to me, but it was when I graduated from college and saw how politics was not just some idealistic belief system that affected other people, but rather, was something that had a direct impact on my life that I really became impassioned.

Russert was there. One of the first pundits I looked to to learn from and hear discussions that didn't dance around a matter, but delved deeply into the essence of whatever the discussion was, whether it was universal health care or war in the Middle East or simply being a decent human being.

I think Tim Russert was probably one of those people who really is just too good for this world. By all accounts he was exactly the kind of guy you would want as your son, your father, your husband, or your pal.

I feel awful for his wife, his son, and of course, his dad. I can't imagine what life would be like after losing someone who clearly had such a big and impactful personality. It's a space that can't be filled.

I think the world is a little less nice knowing that such a good-hearted, joyful, passionate person no longer resides here. But I bet Heaven just got a little smarter.

Going to the Chapel

I don't know a lot of folks getting married or burying themselves deep in their wedding planning these days.

If I did, I would tell them about this new organization I just learned about today: it's called I Do Foundation. With the tagline, Celebrate Generously, I Do Foundation makes it easy for brides and grooms (and their guests) to give to their favorite charity in honor of their wedding day.

Right now, brides and grooms creating bridal registries with Target, Cooking.com, REI, or Linens and Things, can give up to 10% of the purchase price of gifts bought off their registries to the charity of their choice.

How cool is that?!

I understand that giving is supposed to be a sacrifice and should teach us something real about the nature of giving and maybe even ourselves. But I also like it when companies find unique ways of giving that allow us to feel good about shopping with them.

So, if you have friends or families planning their weddings right now, let them know about this easy way to turn their wedding into a gala fundraiser for their favorite charity.

None of Us are Free

I suspect that if I were receiving a report card today, it would say does not play well with others. And after reflecting on this, I think I've always been this way, to some extent.

I do not like being part of a team. I want to be given a project and told to go at it. If I have to work with someone else, I want them to do their part and let me do mine and for them to keep their mouths shut and not tell me what they think about my work. And I'll do the same.

Now, why am I on about this, you ask? Well, I started a new job. There's the boss, who can give me feedback. That's part of the inherent, unspoken contract between a boss and an employee. There's a tech guy. And there's me... the marketer, the writer.

The tech guy thinks he can criticize my writing. And that pisses me the hell off. Especially when the writing is on a blog.

Ah ha! That was an example of exactly the thing he'd criticize... a sentence fragment.

I'll be more specific. I have a new job as the part-time marketing director for a small company. I am writing a blog on the subject matter of that company. I have worked with the tech guy on the blog because it's on WordPress at his suggestion and I am finding WordPress very user-unfriendly and ugly and it doesn't handle text well, etc. So, I've lots of questions.

Because it's a blog and I'm ghostwriting it, I've tried to find a way to match the conversational tone of my boss and keep it readable. I'm writing about specific subject matter and I need to sound like I know what I'm talking about without being stuffy or pompous. As I've shown here, I think that a blog is a conversation. And I tend to write in a conversational tone, phrasing things as I would say them if I were speaking to friends. I do not write in the formal manner, using all the conventions of correct grammar, as I would were I writing an English paper or an article for a magazine or speaking in front of a group of English professors who weren't also my friends. (You would be shocked at how many of my friends and Scott's are actually English professors.)

In writing this other blog, which has kept me away from here for more than a week, I think, I have used a sentence fragment for effect. I have begun a sentence with And (more than once), also for effect, and I have been soundly called out for those things by Mr. Techy-Smartypants. To my boss!

I met him for the first time yesterday and he gave off a cold and smug vibe that really rubbed me the wrong way. During the meeting, I learned that my boss is hiring another writer who was recommended by this tech guy, who by the way, I now think is a dirty louse for recommending another writer.

My boss says I shouldn't be insulted. He wants me to manage the marketing efforts and not write. But I love writing. LOVE IT. It is the one thing, other than my family and friends, that I am passionate about. Marketing is just something I do. Not what I love... what I wake up thinking about in the middle of the night. I don't compose marketing plans in the shower every day, but I do mentally write... fictional stories, blog posts, love letters to my husband and children, letters to congresspeople, magazine articles.

I know that if I were a better person, a team player, as it were, I'd be egoless about this. I would believe this is what is best for the business and I will be able to focus my efforts on generating great marketing ideas every day if I don't have to write the blog and web content. But I'm not there. I'm not selfless and egoless. I do believe I am a better writer than anyone else my boss will hire. I went to Agnes Freakin' Scott, dammit! No one trains better writers than Agnes Scott.

So, now that we're clear... Dawn doesn't play well with others and thinks she's a better writer than 95% of the people available to be hired as writers and she doesn't like being corrected by know-it-all techies... I feel much better. And I hope you don't think less of me for venting about it. Or for actually having the feelings in the first place. I never claimed to be perfect, right?

I will see letting go of the writing aspects of the job as an opportunity to focus those energies here and on other writing projects and I will try to see focusing on the marketing efforts as my actual job and the building up of those muscles.

Wish me the best.

*Tech dude actually criticized me for writing directly into the blog, as opposed to using a text editor and cutting and pasting. First of all, if WordPress actually came with a built-in spell check it wouldn't matter, and second of all, he must not know who he's talking to. I can only compare it to folks who do crosswords in pencil.

So, y'all, how do you write? Directly into the blog or with a text editor? Do tell, because I think he's insane and presumptuous to believe that I would need to do that.

Summer Lovin'

It seems like we've been going non-stop since school got out.

Brendan has been having swimming lessons once or twice a week. Rather than go with group lessons at the Y or the local swim club, I'm having the captain of the swim team at one of our many neighborhood pools teach him. She's very sweet and although he was afraid to put his face in, by the third lesson, he was jumping into the deep end and going under. After each lesson he has begged to stay and play in the water and we have although we're not members. I've been surprised at how easy it is to find a friend and ask if we can stay as their guests. Everyone in our neighborhood is so friendly and so willing to help a friend out. I love it here!

Beckett, too, loves the pool, which has surprised me since he hates baths. Go figure. Kids are full of surprises.

Brendan also gave me a big surprise this week. He's at a day camp at his old preschool all week. After the second day he came home and asked me who he was going to marry then proceeded to tell me the names of two of his female friends that he thought he'd like to marry some day. I have no idea where this came from, by the way.

He then decided that he preferred one of the girls to the other. The girl he picked is named Brynn and she was in his preschool class the previous two years but I don't know her well. He is so infatuated with her that he asked me if he could take flowers to her today. Yesterday, he came home and told me that he played with her during free play time and he shared his Play-Doh with her when she ran out.

I knew he was sensitive, but I had no idea we had raised such a little romantic.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. His dad is a pretty romantic guy and loves giving presents and doing thoughtful things for me. On the 10th anniversary of the day we met, Scott recorded the Beatles' song Michelle, which is my middle name and one of my favorite songs and surprised me with the recording.

And Brendan has shown that kind of consideration toward me and toward his friends in the past. At Christmas, he insisted that Scott let him buy me a small jewelry box because he thought it was pretty and he had heard me say I wanted a jewelry box before.

I thought little boys were supposed to think girls were gross at this age. Perhaps it comes of having had so many female friends since he was an infant, but Brendan shows no such misogynistic bearings as yet. Hopefully, all of this will turn into a fine respect and admiration of the opposite sex that leads him to get along well with everyone. Right now, though, it's pretty darned cute to see him crushing on his little friend and planning such grand romantic gestures when he's such a little person.

Last Words

My friend and esteemed fellow blogger Jeremy provided this link in the comments section to my last post. But it's such a great article that I don't want anyone who might be interested to miss it.

Here is Paul Begala*'s take on Hillary and the media.

*Paul Begala is my geeky political crush. Just like Josh Lyman on The West Wing. What can I say? I love smart guys.

32 Flavors

I am going to preface this by saying that I think Barack Obama will make a fine POTUS and I am happy to vote for him come November. I will also say that I am appalled by the idiocy of some who say they will vote for McCain because their candidate, i.e. Hilary Clinton, did not win the nomination of the Democratic party.

Now, that said, I will say that this race opened my eyes to the role that gender politics still play in this country. Before the primaries began, I thought it would be much more difficult for rich black man to get elected than for a rich white woman. I thought the country was much more racially biased than gender biased, even though I have had my own personal experiences with sexual harassment and sexual bias in the workplace.

But having heard the attacks on Clinton when she showed emotion after the New Hampshire primary and heard female pundits criticize Hilary for her appearance when they never would say the same things about a male candidate was shocking and frustrating. Of course, in hindsight, I think the media would attack a man for showing any emotion other than anger, too. As a nation, we seem incredibly uncomfortable with any sincere expression of emotion that isn't behind closed doors. But that's another post.

Right now, seeing clearly that we are unwilling to elect a woman and that the media willingly participates in the sexist stereotyping of female candidates (and the wives of male candidates) and that members of the so-called unbiased media hold blatantly misogynistic views, I am disheartened.

Only when it becomes as politically incorrect to label a woman a bitch or criticize gender as it is to focus on skin color, ethnicity, or religion will we be able to elect a woman.

And if you want to argue that it is politically incorrect and unacceptable in the media and our culture to make sexist comments, check out this video put together by the Women's Media Center:

Summer Days

It is difficult for me to believe that what passes for summer today is in any way related to the summers I knew as a child. Although many of my memories are blurred around the edges, others remain pristine in their clarity and I play them out in my mind like an old home movie.

There I am, riding my bike around the neighborhood or to the park, alone. I'm probably nine. I ride my bike to my friend Neece's (pronounced like niece-y, short for Glenice) house and then we go to get a couple of other friends and soon a group of four or five girls tear through the neighborhood, pedaling as fast as we can, pretending to be Charlie's Angels or the Dukes of Hazzard.

I see a blanket of sunny days with brown-skinned arms and legs that would merit being told I was brown as a biscuit. Mornings spent helping my grandmother in her garden followed by afternoons of playing tag or shadow tag, kickball and baseball with my cousins and the other kids our age in the neighborhood. A box elder tree, mailbox, a stone, and a silver maple tree served as our bases. After lunch, we'd walk to the store where 50 cents bought a Coke and a candybar or pack of Now and Laters or a pack of candy cigarettes. The afternoons bled into evenings of running around in the yard catching lightning bugs and putting them in a mayonnaise jar with holes poked in the metal lid. Then, we'd sit on the porch and eat watermelon, spitting seeds out into the yard. Or maybe my aunt and uncle would show up and we'd pile into the car, barefoot and giggling and go to the lake where we'd grill hamburgers and skim stones as we watched the sun set.

And with the exception of helping my grandmother in the garden, or having a meal prepared for us, or interacting with the clerk at the store, or being driven somewhere, there was nary a grown-up in the picture. We were self-sufficient. And trusted. And confident and competent. Because our parents trusted us and trusted the world we lived in.

Now, at five I wasn't riding my bike through the neighborhood or walking to the store or park alone. But I was walking across the street to my friend Scotty's house. And I was playing outside for hours on end by myself. I'm sure my grandmother poked her head out once in a while to make sure I was still there, but she wasn't hovering over me, making sure I was engaged and entertained in something constructive. I didn't have a summer reading list or daily flash card time. I was free to imagine and be and create my own worlds where I was a race car driver or a mommy or a veterinarian or a doctor. I climbed trees and sang songs and chased the dog and had the opportunity to be a kid in ways I didn't always get to.

We blame video games and TV for our kids lack of activity and creativity; the rise in obesity, and all the rest of society's ills. But really? Isn't it our fault? We're the ones cowed by fear of bad things happening to our children if they're out of our sight for an instant. And we're the ones who either don't have the time or the inclination to get up and get out and do things.

I'm not saying I do. Clearly, I'm sitting here typing and sounding off on a perfectly gorgeous sunny morning. But, when I finish my coffee and Kashi, I do plan to get my boys outside today. At least for a while.

I may not be able to recreate my idealized summer, especially since school begins August 11 (thanks Mr. President for your stupid NCLB). But, I want to do my best to create some fun memories for these guys and to allow them the opportunities to make their own memories as they become capable and secure in their abilities to do so.

Rocky Top

One little known fact about me – at least to people I've met the last five years or so – is that I am a huge sports fan. I love college football and college basketball and professional baseball and the NBA and once upon a time had the space in my brain to store names and positions and statistics and oddball anecdotes.

Then, I had kids.

All the space I reserved for sports has been filled with other trivia after a long stint as cold storage thanks to sleep deprivation. Where once there was room in my brain to have an opinion on whether Manning or Helton should be the number two behind Jerry Colquitt or who Duke should start against St. John's, or whether or not the Braves should trade Maddux and Glavine, now I have a broad and deep knowledge of all things geek.

I can name 20 different Pokemon on sight or by charades. I can name most of the Autobots and tell you what kind of vehicle they transform into. I know my Triceratops from my apatosaurus . I know more backstory on Spiderman, Venom, Carnage, Iron Man, Wolverine, Captain America, Silver Surfer, Dr. Doom, and the Fantastic Four than I do on a lot of my friends.

Now, though, I'm so excited about college football again that I might have to eke out some room for it this year. And it's all thanks to this man.

David Cutcliffe, is no doubt, a great football coach. He has coached and mentored two of the best quarterbacks in history and at two different schools. But he's also a good man. He and his wife, Karen, took in their son Chris' best friend when the boy's mother died.

Last week, after reading a story about how Coach Cut was changing attitudes about football at Duke and holding the administration and other coaches accountable for treating the football program with the same respect they want, I felt compelled to send the man a note to let him know that Duke football fans are really excited by his presence. (At least those of us who are dyed in the wool college football fans (i.e. the ones from the South) are.) Attached to my e-mail was a photograph of me holding Brendan at his first Duke football game. I never expected to hear anything back at all.

The next day, I got an e-mail from Coach Cutcliffe's secretary telling me the coach had something he wanted to send me and asking for my home address.

A few days later, we received a nice handwritten note from the coach along with a copy of my original photograph, blown up and autographed by Coach Cutcliffe.

It was a very sweet gesture and he certainly didn't have to do it or have his staff do it. But I think it shows what a great guy he is and I am very excited to have him at Duke. I can't wait for August 30th.

Go Duke!

Mary, Mary

It's been almost a month since I planted my garden. I haven't taken any pictures of it since the first day.

I followed these guidelines for a beginner's vegetable garden on the Farmer's Almanac site to get started.

My neighbor, Mr. Martin, broke up the ground for me. He's an awesome neighbor with every kind of tool known to man just waiting around for someone to need it. After tilling the soil for me, he got out his chain saw and cut some branches off a couple of trees to let more sunlight into my garden space.

Once that was done, I amended the soil and got it ready to plant. All I did was put some lime down to counter the acidity of the pine needles that had previously covered the ground. The next day, I planted.

I planted pumpkins, yellow squash, cukes, tomatoes (cherry, Big Boy, and yellow), cantaloupes, leaf lettuce, carrots, beets, bush beans, zucchini, green onions, and I think that's all. I honestly don't remember and forgot to diagram it. So, we'll see.

Right now, everything I've named has sprouted. Some things (beans, squash, pumpkins, tomatoes) are thriving. The rest, not so much.

Send positive vibes my garden's way.

I'll keep you updated.

Summertime

Today is the last day of school for Brendan's class. It's hard to believe that he'll be a Kindergartner next year. It would be a cliche to say how fast the years have flown by. I still feel like I'm just getting to know him, my smart, beautiful, imaginative little guy. Every day he surprises me with his ability to show and receive love.

I remember that last summer he lamented the fact that he, unlike many of his other friends, did not have a best friend. His teacher last year commented that unlike some of the other boys in his class, Brendan sometimes liked to play alone. How it has warmed my heart to watch him blossom this year ... to see him make friends and laugh and have a good time, to learn to write, draw, and count, to be well-liked by his teachers and fellow students, to find a best friend.

The pictures in the attached slideshow are some I took at the pre-K end-of-year party on Wednesday. It was a pool party and the children could not have had more fun! They ran from pool to pool, played on the Slip 'N Slide, ate pizza and popsicles, and generally had about as much fun as I've ever seen a bunch of kids having. I feel really lucky that I got to be there.

One of my favorite pictures in the slideshow is of Brendan with his best friend, Kush. They love each other in such a pure, unconditional way. Everyday when they see each other they hug. On Saturday, Brendan found a box here that a toy had come in. On the outside of the package were pictures of Spiderman and Venom. Brendan loves Spidey, but so does Kush, so Brendan asked if we could cut out the picture of Spiderman and take it to his friend. Of course we did. I am proud of my loving and giving little fellow, yet simultaneously surprised at how loving and giving he can be. But I guess that's what you do for your best friend.

As always, though, I've gotten ahead of myself, hoping they'll remain friends for a long, long time. Who knows? We'll see. Right now, it just brings me joy to see these two sweet boys and their friendship.

We're All In This Thing Together

I spent a much-needed evening with my girlfriends last night, playing Bunco, laughing, talking, eating delicious food, and drinking rum punch.

I got a little of that patchwork mothering and gave some myself. Today, I feel as if a reset button has been punched and all is right with the world. At least my tiny piece of it. Sadly, that much can't be said of the world at large. I am saddened about what a tragic week or two it has been in the world at large.

Here, though, on this tiny plot of earth, for this moment at least, I feel safe, happy, loved, and loving.

I'm done acting like a spoiled brat.

All the kids who got into that class deserve to be there. Maybe especially the more challenging ones like E., the jumping-bean of a boy who can't sit still.

I thought a lot about the fact that just a few months ago I didn't even want to apply because I was worried that it would harm Brendan socially because he'd have the same classmates for the next six years. I thought about the fact that his best friend, Kush, also didn't get in and I hope they'll get to be in the same class next year.

Like I said, we all end up where we're meant to be. Somehow.

Brendan's teacher reaffirmed this belief this morning when she said that no matter what class he's in he will succeed and do well. It made me very proud and happy to hear the confidence in her voice when she said that. And looking across the room at E., as he climbed into the middle of the table where his classmates were trying to draw, I hoped that he, too, would thrive and find success where he lands.

Another Brick in the Wall

Brendan did not get into the magnet Kindergarten class. I'm somewhat surprised by how disappointed I was over this. Twenty-three students from our district applied for 10 spots, while 63 students from outside our district applied for the additional 10 spots.

Of the kids currently in Brendan's pre-K class, only four got in.

When I saw the list, the worst base aspects of my personality rose up. I couldn't help but notice that two of the three boys whose moms have an exclusive little clique going on got in. And the worst kid in the class. The one who by all observation should be in a special needs class because he literally cannot sit still for five minutes. The one who climbed over and under and around and behind every table, desk, cabinet, filing cabinet, and play structure in the classroom while another mom and I tried to conduct story time. The one that I had to carry out of the boys' bathroom the day I volunteered as a lunch monitor because he refused to come back to class. Yeah. He'll really get a lot out of five day a week French lessons and extra math and science.

Then, I took a deep breath and decided that this was for the best. Somehow, we all end up right where we are meant to be.

Now, I just hope Brendan gets one of the two remaining good Kindergarten teachers and not the one with a reputation for sticking the kids in front of a video when she doesn't feel like teaching. I don't think anyone is actually meant to end up there.

Motherless Child

I just stumbled on an extremely powerful and moving article over on CNN. It actually complements the post I wrote for Jen over at SemiCharmed Wife rather nicely.

It's about how to create a new mother for yourself if you feel like you haven't received the mothering you need. The article originally appeared in O Magazine. Author Martha Beck starts off by saying to change the way you think about the word mother so that you see it as a verb rather than a noun. Solid advice, I think.

Ultimately she goes on to suggest four lines of thought to determine if and where you still need mothering. I've listed her thought provoking statements below and follow each with my own initial reaction:

1) I feel useless, unlovable, and disgusting when ...
I lose my temper with my children and when I lose control over my domestic duties.

2) I feel empty and needy when ...
I am tired and sleep-deprived and feel like I have more to do than I can accomplish.

3) I feel stupid and ignorant when ....
I am late for appointments or forget events.

4) I feel helpless and incapable when ...
I have to ask for help completing a task that is my responsibility.

Basically, says Beck, if you had an immediate response for each of those, you need your mommy. Or at least the verisimilitude of a mother in your life. She suggests a patchwork mother.

It seems I already have a patchwork mommy, an amalgam of friends, family, and people I've never even met. Over the last month, I have received and am grateful for the mothering I received from certain friends ....

Stacey metaphorically held my hand via e-mail two weeks ago when I had freak out as a result of coming off the Zoloft I've been taking for the last year.

Courtney, my best friend for the last 14 years or so, gave me wonderful and sound advice about child psychology.

Fran and Jen both expressed belief in me and my writing skills.

Scott has helped me more with the house and kids the last couple of weeks and has been extremely encouraging of me as a writer and as a promoter of his music.

A.,Leila, Aleta, Just Me, and Jeremy all had good advice about our food battles.

And suddenly, I feel so loved and connected and at peace. For all my bitching and moaning about feeling alone and like a motherless child, I have been getting all the mothering I need.

Oh! What a Beautiful Morning

I was just sitting down to blog when Beckett awoke. So, it's off to get him out of bed and dressed, then we're off to Decatur to run some errands and go to the Blue Sky Concert on the square. Hopefully, the weather holds.

And hopefully, I will be able to write more later. I want to tell you all about my garden!

Happy day, y'all!

Just Got Lucky

I just received a phone call from my brother-in-law and had to take a break from working out to take the call and now blog about it because I am so grateful about the news I received I'm teary-eyed.

My mother-in-law had an arteriogram this morning to check for blockages in her heart. She had been having some palpitations and other issues and a stress test was inconclusive.

The doctors found no blockages in her heart and said the heart looks healthy. This, in my opinion, is nothing less than a miracle.

Both of her brothers (one older, one younger) have had by-pass surgeries in the last four years. Her mother died following open heart surgery two years ago. Compounding the issue is the fact that my mother-in-law is extremely overweight. When Scott and I began dating 12 years ago, she was only slightly overweight and really did a good job taking care of herself. Then she quit smoking and became focused on her grandchildren and stopped caring about herself it seemed. We've all talked to her and tried to encourage her. I've given her so many different diet and healthy living books it's not funny. Nothing has worked.

I pray that this is the wake up call, the second chance, that gets her to start taking care of herself. I love her like my own mother. And my boy adores her.

I want her to be around for him to have a relationship with. I want her to see all the milestones in his life. I don't want her to die.

I just wish she felt the same and would start making the changes that will keep her here a while longer.

Hold On

What a random day I've had.

When I got up this morning I was overwhelmingly sad about all the conflict I've been having with Brendan lately. Is five the new two? I have spoken with some of the other moms of kids in his class and they all seem to be dealing with similar issues.

I went online and did some reading and came up with some new ideas for how to handle some of the stuff we're dealing with. I decided that I am not going to turn this food thing into a huge battle. I love the ideas that Jen and Just Me suggested. We've actually been saving his dinner and telling him he can have that, but he whines and cries and many a night, I forget to save it and throw it out, but at least we're getting better at it.

Anyway, I was just starting to think I could get a handle on this stuff when I got a call from Brendan's school saying he was sick and I should come get him. When I got there, he was sobbing because his stomach hurt and he could barely walk. I had to ask another parent to carry Beckett back out to the car while I carried Brendan. All I could think was appendicitis.

I went to the pediatrician's office which is two minutes away, but they were at lunch and I had to wait 30 min. for their return. By the time the pediatrician got there, he didn't hurt anymore. After examining him, she guessed either a colon spasm, but felt like he didn't have the right combination of symptoms or issues; or kidney stones, but again, not the right list of other complaints.

We spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch reading books and watching TV and playing Matchbox cars and Bionicles. It was the most pleasant afternoon we've had in a few weeks because I wasn't trying to juggle kids, chores, work, cooking dinner, etc. I opted for a very easy dinner of steak, baked potatoes, and oven roasted veggies and encouraged the boys to play with their cars in the kitchen while I cooked.

I had loaded the dishwasher with the day's accumulation of dishes plus the leftover pans from last night's baking adventures and started running it only to look over and see a couple of sippy cups that needed washing. So, I opened the door to the dishwasher which is supposed to stop running when the door is opened. Only that didn't happen. It kept running and I got quite a good splashing. Of course, because it was spraying, I couldn't get the drawer to slide back in and get the door closed. It took me several seconds to think to turn it off. By then, I was soaked from the knees down and quite damp every where else and the floor was covered in water. Fortunately, at that point the boys were playing elsewhere.

Any other day, I would have freaked out and been really pissed off. But today.... Today, it just made me laugh. Maybe because I was so relieved Brendan wasn't seriously ill. Maybe because I was actively trying to be patient and not let anything bother me. Maybe because I kept imagining what it must have looked like from another perspective.

Who knows? I guess it doesn't really matter. I've lived to fight another day as they say. Or preferably, not fight, but enjoy the day and those around me.

I can't help but wonder if the last few weeks have seemed so god-awful because I stopped taking the antidepressant I was on for ppd. I don't want to be someone who can't function without a pill. I don't think it's wrong if that's what you need. It just makes me sad to think of having to live that way. I want to be able to manage on my own, to learn how to control my own emotions without being numbed to them.

Whatever the case may be, it felt nice to manage today. To turn it around and feel like I could make a change.Hold

Cooking by the Book

Calling Chef Mom. Please report to the advice podium to dole out some good advice to frustrated moms in need of healthy meals children will eat.


I've had it with cooking dinner several times a week only to be told that what I've prepared is yucky.

If it doesn't come from a guy in a clown suit or a crown, isn't neon orange and cheesy, doesn't taste like cinnamon and powdered sugar, or isn't Siamese Basil's cashew chicken, my eldest child thinks it's gross.

Dinner time is a battle every night. Admittedly, by the time I get through the two hours it takes me to construct a meal while managing a crying toddler and stopping every five minutes to find a toy, change the tv channel, open something, let the dog in or out, or put out some fire (metaphorical or literal), I've had it. I want to eat my food, get everyone bathed and in bed, and zone out.

I try to cook healthy foods I like but I realize that I'm the only one who likes them. Granted, Brendan hates all foods and this drives me crazy. It makes me mad. He used to love everything and then one day, he just became this defiant child who refuses to eat anything. And I didn't help it because I thought he couldn't go hungry so instead of saying, "tough luck, eat this or do without," I would let him have a banana or make something I thought he'd eat.

Now, I'm trying to fix the problem and we're fighting like cats and dogs every night, screaming at each other and I can't take it anymore. I literally sat at the kitchen table and cried last night after telling my whole family I was going on strike because they didn't appreciate my hard work to cook nice meals. It's insulting to have your child tell you the food you've made is yucky. And I guess I had just heard that one too many times last night.

I feel like an idiot for letting him get the best of me that way. Of course, on the one hand, he hurt my feelings and he should see that his actions have consequences. That words can hurt people. I just hate that he learned on me. I don't want him to know he can push my buttons like that.

So, what I'm trying to ask for is a little advice, recipes, meal suggestions, ideas for getting your kid to try new foods or things they think they don't like. I can't trick him, nor do I want to. So, none of this, hide the zucchini in the spaghetti sauce (he wouldn't eat it anyway because he's the only kid in America who doesn't like spaghetti). I want real ideas.

And, by the way, how do you eat healthy meals if your children flat out refuse to eat them when you prepare them. It's a waste of time, energy, and money. Do you break down and fix kid-friendly meals or do you let the kids go hungry or fix other things? I ask this, expecting to hear "the kids should eat whatever you make" but do kids really want poached salmon, brown rice, baked sweet potato, and a salad with ginger dressing? Will most kids eat that?

My friend L. prepares two meals most nights. Either she fixes something the kids will eat and she and her husband snack or have a separate meal or the kids snack and she prepares a meal she and her husband will eat. Which is kind of what I was doing, but decided was a bad idea. Now, I'm wondering if it is such a terrible thing to do.

Alright... Let me have your best ideas!

And thanks in advance!

Sweet Jane

Finally, I get to write about Saturday night!

First, I just want to say, that if you are in Atlanta, you have to go to one of the remaining 4 nights of 500 Songs for Kids at Smith's Olde Bar. If you have an extra $100 go to Saturday's show. It will be jam-packed with terrific performers, including Gnarls Barkley's own Cee-Lo singing the final song of the night.

I'm going to get this right finally... This year's songs are the... wait for it... 500 Greatest Sing-a-long Songs.

Scott performed song #380, The Velvet Underground's Sweet Jane. What a great song and a perfect fit for Scott! He was very true and I thought he was fantastic. The crowd seemed to agree.

My other favorites of the night included:

Why the Fly covering Hansen's Mmm Bop
Heather Luttrell's cover of Georgia on My Mind (this woman has an amazing voice!)
Grace Buford singing Over the Rainbow
Charlotte, NC band The Sammies doing AC/DC's Thunderstruck (kicked major ass!)
Xylah throwing down by mixing a little Pinball Wizard into her performance of Jefferson Airplane's White Rabbit
Love Rush's faithful cover of Better than Ezra's Good
The Julia Dream's cover of The Flaming Lips' She Don't Use Jelly
and
Audrey Spillman's sensual rendition of Aretha Franklin's Natural Woman.

Those are just my favorites. Everyone worked really hard to put on a great show and these are just a few of the ones that really stood out. All of these musicians gave their time and talent to a very worthy cause and for that they should all be applauded.

Go see live music, people! Wherever you are. These musicians work hard at something they love. Let them know you appreciate them!