When Doves and Babies Cry

Just got back from a dear friend's fabulous wedding. She tried something novel and chose to have all of our children stand in (instead of us) at the wedding and that included Parker.

Parker's only job was to carry the "Here Comes the Bride" sign. You would think this would be simple; but for a two-year old, nothing is ever quite that easy. The sign to her was like garlic to a vampire as she leaned back in horror every time we tried to place it in her hands. The more we insisted, the more she resisted, choosing to amuse herself with the pond of fish in the area. But thank goodness for a happy-go-lucky bride, who said "Don't worry; she'll get it in time for the wedding." Me being the all-knowing mother, knew better, but why ruin a gorgeous day - yet?

True to form, Park had a melt down just as it was time for the bridal party to enter. Instead of going down with the sign, she was dragged down the aisle by another poor child who now had her as hostage. Once lined up in the front, she proceeded to fuss and fidget which was expected for her age; but when I saw her make a dive for the the pond of fish, I had Larry drag her out of the line-up and sit with her Nana in the back.

As the ceremony drew to a close, we hustled her back up to the front so she could at least walk down the aisle for photo purposes. However, perhaps we brought her up to soon for just as she came up, the ceremonial doves were being released - at which point Parker screamed in horror. I tried to feign ignorance stating loudly "Who is that crying?" all the while knowing who it was.

Composing herself she walked down the aisle and gamely joined in to help carry the veil - and practically ripped the hair out of the bride's head from holding it so tight! I could hear the bride gently say "Get her off, get her off!" as she tried to maintain composure and continue her graceful exit.

Finally, the area was cleared and it was picture time. What could possibly go wrong now? Well, my sweet girl decided to make a run right for the bride, slipped on the veil and skidded on her rear right into her! The bride survived with a now ripped gown, the photos were taken and we spent the reception trying to keep her out of the fountain.

Was this two much for a little girl to handle? I say not, for although I got a lot of "She's a handful isn't she?" I also got alot of "What a good job she did" from other parents. The bride took it all in stride and said, it made for great memories and the rips in her dress were cherished remnants of the day. And I guess it was a balance of both. She has her two-year old moments but she did get up the aisle, walk back down it and proudly come out when she was announced during the dinner - after which she was the star of the dance floor, partying all night with her new found "cousins."

As the worried parent, I saw the mistakes she made, but fortunately others, including the bride, saw the beauty in her being who she is.

I admit, I'll be a little nervous if she's ever in a wedding again, but I'll know not to have her carry signs, keep her away from all veils, fountains and ponds, and for God's sake, keep her away from the doves!

Slapped Fresh - Twice!

A few weeks ago I was on the road with my daughter driving to New Jersey. I call her my "road dog" because we have been traveling together by ourselves up and down 95 since she was born. I usually drop her off to stay with my family while I am away for work for an extended period. She gets extra family time and Larry gets quiet time.

So you know I've been doing this potty thing and, once she got the hang of it, Park has mastered it with relative ease. But there are certain things that still irk her - like "number two" - where she tries to go in a corner like a puppy to make her mark, and will look you dead in the face with her eyes as wide as saucers going "No, no" when you ask if she has to "boppy."

Another tick is the sound of the automatic flush. I read some where that a post-it note over the sensor will stop the toilet from flushing automatically, and have traveled with them ever since. On this particular day, we were on the road and I pulled over at one of the rest stops for a potty break. For some reason Park did not want to get on the toilet.

Thinking that we would most likely not stop again, I tried to hold her little body over the seat and make her go saying, "Don't worry Parker, it's not going to flush; try to use the potty." I was sure this was not one of those auto toilets and did not use my post-it.

While protesting, Park hoisted her little body off the toilet - which left me face down in the bowl - and then the toilet flushed! A lovely spray of probably every tourist from DC to New Jersey that used that toilet sprayed onto my face. I felt like I was slapped fresh in the face with germs! I guess that was God's eay of telling me not to force the issue. I quickly wiped myself off, washed our faces and hands, and left the bathroom - without either of us using the toilet!

Fast forward a week and I am back home. I decided to take Park to a local park that hosts Fabulous Fridays where, for $5 a person, you can ride the carousel, the train and play mini-golf for a three-hour period. I wanted to have fun time with her to make up for being gone for so long.

Park loves the carousel and immediately wanted to ride it. But as soon as she got close, she started to back away. She was afraid of all of the horses and animal figures looking so big and stiff. I noticed this same behavior at the Museum of Natural History - a place she once loved now freaked her out as she got older and noticed giant, stiff lions and tigers and bears - oh my!

We finally found one tiny horse that we named "Tina" that she liked. It was smaller than the others and did not go up and down. As long as I blocked her from the two bulls and giant kangaroo behind her, she was happy. We rode Tina again and again; breaking to take a train ride, but always returning. So why did I try to mess with a good thing?

After a bit, I suggested we try one of the benches on the carousel - and she happily agreed. However, once we started to move, she wanted back on "Tina." Me being "saftey first" as my sister calls me, I refused to move her as we were already in motion. So Park began to wave and flail her arms and kick her legs like a mad woman, screaming for "Tina." And as I leaned over to try to comfort her, I got slapped fresh in the face and kicked in the shins!

My first reaction was shock. Did my own child just slap me in the face? Did she do it on purpose or was it an accident? I was sure people on the ride were looking at me thinking I had some wild uncontrollable child - and I was pretty much with them on that summation. But I got myself together.

In my two plus years of being a mother I've learned to calm down and speak quietly when I am upset as opposed to yelling like I might have been prone to earlier in my experience. I leaned in close to Parker and said "Parker, I am very disappointed in you; you slapped Mommy and hurt her. I know you are upset about Tina but you have to try to calm down." Then I held her as she cried over my disappointment and we rode out the ride while we both calmed ourselves down.

By the time we got off, she was back to her cheery, happy self and I was proud of the way I handled the situation. That slap startled me and I could not believe that she'd done it. But she is two and she was upset and frustrated and that was the only way she felt she could express herself at that moment. It was up to me to be the adult and not the child and THIS time my better self won out.

So we hugged and kissed each other, got off the ride and immediately went back on line - to "Tina."

So my two slaps taught me to never try to force an issue; that automatic toilets can be tricky, carousels can be scary and kids have their own preferences and opinions. As Sister Sabara once told me in 9th grade biology - "sometimes you have to stop doing and just listen."

I'll keep that in mind for today is Friday, and tonight, we return to "Tina!"

To Thine Own Self Be True

My sister is the kind of mom that has all of her kid's friends at her house. All hours of the day kids are being dropped off, picked-up, taken to the movies or swimming in their pool. As Vice President of the Social Committee at their school, it seems she knows every parent and every parent seems to call on her at one point or another. Whether it's the one who comes but never leaves, the one whose parent needs a quick favor or the regular kid who's always coming by, it seems she welcomes them with open arms.

Her duties with the school committee have her organizing Parents Days and ice skating nights; Career Days and end of year celebrations - all of which she handles with grace and gusto. This is a person who never baby sat, was pretty ambivalent about babies in general, but who has now morphed into Super Mom - the exact mom I always thought I would be. But now - not so much!

The thought of being responsible for someone else's kids other than my own (and by my own I also mean my niece and nephew) gives me the heebie jeebies. I think back to a comedian who said "Just because I have kids doesn't mean I like them - I just like my own!"

I am little overwhelmed when I think about even watching other peoples kids. When my nephew was a baby Dee would ask if I wanted to take him to the play ground to which I would more often than not reply "No thanks." Not because I didn't want to spend time with my nephew but because I didn't want to spend time with the other kids that were sure to be there! You don't know how they're raised - if they're nice kids or brats; if their parents raised them to be polite or let them run wild - too many unknown factors for me to deal with!

Granted, Park is only two, so we're not at the point of alot of playdates and she's in daycare where there are no PTAs and mother's groups, but still somehow I thought I'd be more excited about all of the Mommy-related activities waiting for me and I simply am not there yet. I can barely get out of bed to be aware of my own kid. Larry told me the other day that Park came into our room at 2:00 a.m. and was carrying on a full conversation with me - while I snored. He got out of bed, put her back in bed, and I never knew what happened.

I like that Park has friends but I think I'd go a little nuts if I was responsible for them. While Dee will throw a gaggle of kids in her car and take them to the movies or freely let her kids run up the street to a neighbor's I sometimes shudder at the thought of playdates or someone asking me to watch their kid. I am still figuring out how to keep my own child alive as she puts pennies in her mouth, jumps on and off the sofa, scales the walls and calls the extension cord a necklace; I can't worry about keeping someone else off of the ledge! And the PTA? The thought of taking 750 RSVPs for a strawberry festival makes me want to run down the street screaming!


Dee's kids are seven and 10. Maybe I'm still relatively new at the game and the above only speaks to my insecurities of messing up someone else's kid and my fear of them messing up my kid. My priority today is making sure my child is happy, alive and well before I focus on someone else's child.

I want to be that Super-mom one day. I want my house to be kid-central. I want Park see our house as the place she'd most rather be. So I'll take it slow - a play date here, an invite there; I even plan on bringing Park to a mom's group playdate in our community if I am ever home when they have them.

Maybe by the time she's in elementary school I'll see the beauty in the chaos and look forward to helping other mom's in their daily routine as they will surely help me. We'll see. But for now, don't ask me to babysit!

Out Mothered?

Last night I tried to put Parker to sleep. We were doing well when I gently slipped my hand off her back, rolled my body off the pillows on the floor where I was laying down, and like a ninja, tried to slide silently out of the room. And then she woke up - saw that I was attempting to leave - and went buck wild! My husband, hearing the ruckus, came upstairs, shoo-shoed me out of the way, grabbed Parker, started talking some gibberish about the moon and the stars and came downstairs five minutes later after putting her to sleep! Getting her up in the morning? I am barely conscious and rarely hear her calls. By the time I roll over, he has her out of bed, eating her cereal, waiting for Mommy to get her dressed. Dinner? - he cooks it, after he returns from work (where he also drops her off and picks her up from the daycare at his job). Using the potty? He can get her to go better than I can!

While trying not to get a complex, I've started thinking about why he seems to be so much better at these things than I am. When it comes to daily reading, social activities such as dance and gymnastics and general play time, I'm your go-to girl. When she gets home, all she wants is Mommy - sitting on my lap, wanting me to pick her up, crying when I take two steps without her, wanting me by her side every step of the way while smothering me with hugs and kisses. But sleepy tme, eating time, potty time - that's Larry's domain.

I think his patience and calm demeanor may be what allows her to easily follow his lead as I admittingly at times am always thinking about the next thing on my list. With Larry, maybe she feels she can just "be" and there is a value and balance in that. While one parent is the scheduler, the other is the free-timer. With one you have to be on point, on time and aware; with the other you can wait it out until you're ready to act. That must explain why Parker can sit in a room all day with Larry while he watches TV and just let him be, but when she sees me the books and the toys start coming out of the woodwork for heavy interaction time.

I'd like to think she appreciates what we both bring to the relationship and that it will serve her well in the future. I'd like to think Larry's not the better parent but just one who parents differently. I'd like to think I'm not making her neurotic about "Mommy time" and that she'll be a well-rounded adult. I'd like to think that I'm not out-mothered by my husband. But maybe I should just relax and think about the fact that I am extremely lucky!

Dance Like There's No Tomorrow

We took our daughter to the Guppy Gala at the zoo tonight. Although a friendly little girl, Park can sometimes become very shy and want to literally crawl up my body when she is fearful or nervous. So I was quite surprised when she jumped up to dance with one of the people on the performance stage. She left me and Larry, ran up there and simply moved. She danced with wild abandon moving her arms left and right, rolling her hands, shaking her shoulders and enjoying the music. She didn't look at us for permission or approval, she simply acted on what inspired her in that moment. She didn't care who was watching - all she focused on was the rhythm of the music and how it made her feel. It was a beautiful thing to watch my daughter being so free. I pray that she always finds that little piece of freedom and pulls it out whenever she needs it; that she has no inhibitions or doubts about anything that she wants to do, and that she will always remember to dance like she did tonight.

Hold On or Let it Go?

I have been thinking and thinking about having another baby. At this point I will be 47 by the time I deliver, but there is some part of me that still thinks I have it in me for one more go round. I don't know if I am being hopeful or delusional. They told me I had less than a 6% chance when I was 41 and I conceived at almost 44 without their help. This time they told me less than 1% - sometimes I feel like all I need to hear is "impossible" to make it my motivation.

Years before ever getting pregnant I'd go to the gym and people would ask why I was going so often (back when I went alot) and I'd say "One day I'm going to be pregnant and have a baby and will need to be in shape." They'd ask "Are you married yet? " - my response "Nope", "Are you pregnant yet?," same response - "Nope." But I knew in my soul that both would be true statements and persisted.

Now here I am with everything I ever wanted and knew I could have, and I'm asking myself if I am now being selfish. One doctor flat out told me I was lucky to have the healthy ONE at my age and I'd be crazy to tempt fate again, then proceeded to tell me about her nightmares raising her child and other nightmares of friends who adopted. Did I say she is a FORMER doctor?! She was off-putting yes, but it did make me think - am I not being grateful; am I taking what I have accomplished for granted, am I selfish? At times I feel like I am pushing God to do what I want and at other times I feel ashamed for not recognizing that with Him ALL things are possible.

I grew up with a sister who I am extremely close to and I always imagined having children who would have that same bond. I was never one of those "I need to get married so I can have children;" as a matter of fact, for me, children were not an option unless I was married. Yet once I got on board, I wanted the full works - at least two kids; maybe even three. Even knowing with each year my chances of conceiving on my own were decreasing, I never imagined that I could not have at least two.

Over the next few months I will have some big decisions to make. We're going to give it another shot; but in three months time, if nothing happens, I am going to let go of the option of conceiving and look at other alternatives.

Through the Eyes of a Child

We took our daughter to see the America I Am exhibit at the National Geographic Building today. The mood was somewhat somber as we entered the rooms with remnants of slavery. But as my daughter saw the chains reflected on the people's faces, she asked about the rainbows - seeing only the light that bounced off the reflection. And when she approached the vignette of a female and male house slave in their uniforms she said "Mommy, can I touch the princess and the pirate?" - and the crowd broke out of their mood and smiled. It's amazing how a child can take even the saddest piece of history and find beauty. Maybe that's why we should remember our past, hold it, acknowledge it, celebrate it. It made us who we are today, as a people and as a nation - and while some focused on the ugliness of it all, a little girl looked at those images and saw beauty.

Lady in Waiting

I was stuck in a McDonald's yesterday with Park, waiting out the tornado warning. All I could imagine was dying in a tornado with people knowing I fed my daughter McDonald's! What can I say, it's right around the corner from gymnastics and it's an easy, although hopefully not weekly, fix. I had no idea tornadoes were so rampant in this area. I was really scared, but I tried to remain calm. Park was as calm as ever, systematically working her way through her fries and Chicken Mcmuggets, while holding on to the Bat Mobile toy that came with her Happy Meal. I guess God works it out that way - when you're ready to riot, they are calm and when you're calm, they're ready to riot! So we just waited it out, me with one eye on my child and the other on that bathroom door in case we needed to make a break for it!

Still waiting on potty success. I dragged it with us to a friend's house for Easter dinner and it ended up becoming my Easter Bonnet. I figured I might as well get some use out of it. I have to go read some books on this. I work better with a step by step guide to do something and not theory. I am stunned that Park, who picks up everything so fast, is clearly reluctant when it comes to the potty. I have to bargain, beg and cajole her into staying on the potty. She has no inclination to tell me when she has to go and will gladly allow me to sit with her for ten minutes, get up, put her diaper back on and promptly go to the bathroom. I fear she'll be three years old before she gets this right and yet, I don't want to pressure her; so I wait, and wait and wait...

Training Mommy

Day One of really trying to potty train my daughter. She has peed on the carpet, the bathroom rug, the side of the sideboard in the dining room - and basically everywhere except the potty. Larry really wants a dog, but I told him I can't deal with a puppy until my daughter is house-broken! I really can't understand how people do it. Some say to put her on every hour or half-hour - tried that - Parker just howls; some say let her go commando and pee anywhere - Mommy just howls, others say, we'll know when the time is right - well she's almost two and a half - isn't it time yet? Sometimes she will flat out tell me she does not want to go ("I'm dry"), or when I ask her if she will tell me she has to go she flat out says "No." I think she's got this thing with the potty - they are at a stand-off and she's not budging.

Every woman I know was trained before 18 months! What's happening today or at least with me? Is it that we're all working too hard to dedicate the time or have the disposable diapers made it too easy to get comfortable with our kids carrying loads behind them? I tell you, I almost cried with joy when I put on those beautiful big blue and green spotted Target diapers a bed time - I knew I had at least until the morning before I was peed on again.

A Hairy Situation

I was one of those Moms who SWORE she would never braid her daughter's hair. I clearly remember as a child, when one of the big girls in our grand parents Gary, WVA neighborhood, took me and my sister to get cornrows. We loved her and looked up to her like a big sister - and she'd happily let us tag along wherever she went. That day she decided to change up our hair. My father grew up in the segregated south and I guess had clear opinions about showing your "blackness." Dad's a good guy but he obviously carries those experiences and opinions with him to this day. Well, his horrified reaction on that day sealed my opinion. We immediately had to take the braids out of our hair and I never had braids again.

Flash-forward 30-some years and here I am, the mother of a beautiful, fuzzy-headed two-year old girl. A little girl, not with the thick, silken tresses of her aunt Dee, or the equal parts kink and curl of her mom, or even the beautiful long ebony ropes of her cousin Eliza. No - when asked to describe an actor with my daughter's hair so a friend could get a visual, I responded "Yaphet Kotto." My beautiful little girl who makes my heart burst with love, has a head of hair that mommy can't manage!

All of those mixed feelings about my Dad and his obession with "hair, ethnicity, etc." came back to me. Was I projecting the same thing on to my daughter or was I simply being realistic? Her fuzzy, sandy brown locks are simply hard to manage. When I wash it, it shrivels up to cotton ball status and takes more than a few carresses and nudges to mold it into a form I am satisfied with.

And cornrows? Why they have become my best friend. It's one of the few things I can do to make her hair look neat and organized. My friends and family are amazed that I can even braid hair - and though not an expert by any stretch, my daughter does look adorable when Mommy is done. It's one of the looks in my style arsenal that includes braids, fuzzy pom-poms, an occassional twist and plenty of big, giant bows, that are becoming her trademark!

My father's reaction - why he thinks she's the most beautiful, smart, amazing little girl he knows, along with her cousin Eliza. Strangely, he doesn't see fuzz, he only sees love. Every picture sent is greeted with an awe of admiration and wonder. She is his grandchild - and she is perfect.

And maybe that's the lesson. When I look at my daughter the biggest thing I see is love; how she makes my heart so happy; how every day I thank God for bringing such a perfect little angel into my life. The fuzzy hair, the temper tantrums, the strong opinions on clothes and shoes (at two!), the still occassional late night wake-up calls, the never taking a nap on Sundays, are all part of the wonderful things that make her who she is.

I love them all and I accept them all - now, please pass the hair grease!

The Community Meeting

I had a feeling it was a bad idea to bring my daughter along with me and my husband to our HOA meeting last week, but a neighbor said she was bringing her twins, so I thought "Surely we can manage one if they can manage two." Well, the meeting was held in an auditorium (think echo), and while being fascinated with jumping in and out of the chairs, she hit her her head and asked me, quite loudly to "spank the chair." Chair spanked, we moved up to the back row as not to disturb guests. At some point I must have raised my arm, as my daughter immediately asked "Mommy, what's that under your arm?" I knew I had a little five o'clock shadow going on as I rushed to get dressed that morning but thought no one would notice - wrong, a three-foot tall "inch high private eye" has the perfect view! I immediately said "It's deodorant." Calling my bluff, she said "Let me see Mommy," and I had to post my unshaved arm pit against the wall so she could examine it - over and over again. Finally she asked to see my breasts and proceeded to pull at my top and my bra for closer inspection. At that point, I got up and left my husband to attend the meeting. As I picked my daughter up and tried to hold my head high, I knew that a room full of 500 people now knew that I a) have occassionally spanked my daughter, b) don't shave as often as I should and c) have a child obsessed with my breasts." I think I shared enough with them for one day. And my neighbor with the twins? She never showed up - smart woman!!!

To Be or Not to Be Like Mommy

Took my daughter to her first dance class this weekend. I never thought I'd be one of those Mom's who runs their kids here and there on the weekends, but now I realize why they do it - to wear their kids out so they can get some rest! I am not sure how I am going to cut it with the 8:30 a.m. start time, but I am going to give it a shot. I follow that with story time at Barnes and Noble, then lunch, then I can get a good two-three hours to myself on the weekend!! We start gymnastics at the end of the month - ok, so I AM that mother!! But I do want her to experience things for more than the fact that I get a break - music, dance, culture. I want her to see past her neighborhood, past her city, past her country. At two, she has a stamped passport. While my husband and I made a few Caribbean trips with her, thanks to a little help from Mom, she saw Europe this summer.

Why am I over 40 with my mom takng me on vacation? Maybe I should say thank God. She's from that last line of people who actually retire with a great pension, no debt and their homes paid for in full. Married at 19, divorced at 42 and remarried, she started early and finished early. My generation - well at least for those of us from a city environment- we married late and started late on everything. I laughed when we signed the note on our 30-year mortgage. There is no way in hell I will be paying a mortgage for 30 years. I don't care what I have to do but it will be paid off early. I love my neighborhood and plan to stay put and pay it off early. I don't understand why people want to jump and move to bigger, better. I picked a nice house in a nice neighborhood and this is where we plan to raise our family. We have a relatively new baby and a new home, but I am not 25, I'm 45 and I am thinking of retirement.

I love that I lived my life, traveled the world, started my business at 28, owned my own home before I was married, but would I advise my daughter to do it that way? Eh - not so much! I'd like her to start a little earlier on the family side, build together with her husband but still be independent. But I want her to be done by the time she's my age, not just starting!

I have some friends who are almost done - with kids in highschool and/or college, a few who are like me - married later (after 35) and had kids late, but I also have just as many who are my age, never married, no kids. It's going to be interesting to see how we all pan out with our choices. I don't regret anything - all of the fools I dated were necessary for me to meet and appreciate my husband, but again, I still can't say that's what I'd want for my daughter.

...But First I'd Like to Introduce Myself...

Ok, I've tried this blog thing a few times, trying to find something that fit, something that would make me feel comfortable sharing my voice. Let's hope the third time is the charm! You can tell from the title of this blog, I am a mid-life Mommy. I had my first (and so far only) child at 43 years and eight months. The reason my age is so detailed is that, as any one whose had a baby over 35 knows, they count every second you age!!! Every minute in their minds potentially pushes you closer to Armageddon and they are just doing the count down.

It's not that I wanted to be here so late in life, but I didn't get married until I was almost 39. I figured things would flow from there, but after years of trying, two attempts at artificial insemination, two attempts at InVitro and no luck, I was squarely into my 40s before I found a Naturopathic doctor who changed my diet, prayed with and for me and wham, I was pregnant in six months! So here I am, with a happy, healthy two year old.

Here I am ALSO, in mid-life! Life is funny like that! I don't know if the changes my body is going through are because of the baby or because I'm getting older. Sometimes I panic wondering if I'll be around to see my daughter grow up; other times I laugh at the fact that I'm doing things like wrangling my daughter to comb her hair and I'm thinking "but I'm damn near 50, how did I get into this mess?!" It's just been a fun and wild and thought-provoking journey.

With this blog spot I hope to explore all of those changes and feelings. I'm hoping I can be honest and open. I am hoping that fear won't stifle me; I am hoping you won't think I'm an idiot. I am hoping...