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.