Children of Summer

School's out and the warm weather's here. I've taken my solo trip for the summer (to visit Laura in NYC), and now I have a month and a half before school starts again. Mark's taking a couple classes for most of the days this summer, so it's just me and the boys on the weekdays. I wasn't sure how I was going to feel about that, about going from full time job to full time mom without much chance to get out on my own, but so far I'm loving it. It's making me really make an effort to enjoy each moment with my kids and think of things that will get us all out and about.

I'm realizing how well I do when I can make my own plans without having to meet other adults' needs and can really focus on Carter and Cameron and follow their natural rhythm. I can leave in the morning for an outing when everyone's ready, and not before, and head home when everyone's had their fill and needs the comfort of their own bed for the afternoon nap. I even get a few moments of shut-eye here and there.

Now that Cameron is walking, Carter and Cameron often can entertain each other without needing me unless there is a dispute over a shared toy. Today I went to a nearby lake with a friend who has kids the same age, and we both noted that we were able to carry on a complete conversation without needing to tend to our kids. It doesn't sound like much, but it's amazing what a difference it makes not always having to be doing something for the kids.

I've started to be able to get my own enjoyment out of activities I do with the kids. Tomorrow I'm going on a hike and, although I know it will be at Carter's pace and it will take me a good part of the morning to get ready, I anticipate that I'll still feel like I'm getting outside and at least getting a bit of exercise, even if it's only because I'll have 30-pound Cameron on my back.

The shift is taking place ever so gradually, but I get glimpses of not always needing to be concerned about what my kids need, who's hungry, why someone's crying. I'm having more and more moments of truly enjoying the relationship with my kids and doing things that we all want to do. It makes me realize how cool I really think my kids are and how amazing it is that I get to spend the rest of my life with them.

Weathering the Storm

(Carter and Cameron enjoying lunch on Mimi and Papa's boat)

Wow. It's been awhile. As my last post alluded to, there's a lot going on right now, and much of it I'm still muddling through. But the clouds are beginning to part. I can feel a sense of burden lifted from my shoulders. The waters are calming and it's beginning to feel easier to swim. For one, the kids are getting older. I can sit for almost five minutes on occasion and not have a single demand asked of me. Not often, but enough to make a difference. Another reason, summer's coming. I can open the doors and windows and get some fresh air, have some space, let Carter play outside and entertain himself with the grass and bugs and sandbox. Work is busy as ever, but the end is in sight. Three weeks left. And I've started climbing again and am beginning to be reminded of who I am other than Mom and Wife. I have goals that are just mine and can only be accomplished by me.

It's amazing how feeling in control and happy and content with one part of my life spreads and is contagious with the other parts of me. It's the snowball effect. The best kind of snowball there is. I can feel my infectious smile touching my kids and Mark. As I am more fulfilled, I have more to give, which naturally leads to others giving back. I can feel my life's investments giving great returns.

It's not all smooth sailing. Cameron's teething and Carter just threw a notable I'm-too-tired-to-not-cry-and-scream-and-kick tantrum this afternoon. But I have more within me to get through it and move on. As I sit here in the early evening sunshine and watch Mark and Carter mow the lawn together, my heart is full.

I think I've come out of this last storm without too many lasting bumps and bruises. Hopefully just some great swimming experience to help me get through the next one.

Playing Nice: Addendum

A quick addendum to yesterday’s post:

Last night we went swimming again, and Carter found a little girl named Erika to play with. We went through the routine of Carter asking her name, and my telling him to ask her and tell her his name as well. Names were exchanged, and the rest of the night, she referred to him as Tater and he called her Kylie, and they both responded to each other as if those had been their names all along. Erika’s dad and I attempted to clarify with our children the other’s name, but it was unsuccessful, and really, it didn’t matter. Tater and Kylie got along just fine without us.

Playing Nice

We have discovered discounted Tuesday nights at the rec center, so I have been taking Carter swimming. It gives him a chance to get out and be active, and he and I get some quality time because Mark stays home with Cameron.

It's also a place where there are community toys, children, and lots of opportunities for turn-taking, sharing, and interacting. Carter just loves any kids that will play with him. He immediately begins referring to a playmate as "my friend", and then proceeds to initiate play in any way he can. He asks me questions like, "What's her name?" and I have to tell him to go ask, and to tell her his name too. Once he finds out what he's looking for, he always turns back and smiles at me, satisfied that he now has a name to call out.

Having a young child who is learning the rules of play and social interaction reminds me on a daily basis that although we are naturally social beings, we often need to be taught the conventions that our society has established to play nice. It's one of the countless lessons that falls on the list of parent responsibilities.

It's interesting to me that Carter is aware that there are social rules, but that he acknowledges he doesn't always know them. For example, he'll say to me, "I want her boat," but indicates he doesn't know what to do. I tell him that he could offer to trade toys, and he'll do so, once again proud that he was able to get what he wanted in such a successful way.

A side note on all of this is that the adults of these children learning social rules also have to come to a common understanding of what we are going to guide our children to do. For example, if Carter wants another child's toy, but the other child doesn't want to share, then we parents both have a call to make--do we tell Carter that's the other child's toy so he can't play with it, or do we tell the other child to share?

We parents have to quickly read each other's body language and discern who needs to intervene. There is no one right answer, but we parents, not even knowing each other, understand that we have to support the other in the decision made so our kids hear a consistent message.

It's not an easy thing to do, present this unspoken united front as unacquainted parents. It reminds me that Carter's not the only one learning and practicing the unwritten social rules we all live by. As a parent, I have to remember how to initiate contact with another person, come to common understandings, and play nice.

Stopping to Enjoy the Music

This article about the reaction of the public to this violinist playing in the subway struck a cord with me. The article describes a social experiment in which Joshua Bell, a world-renown musician who can fill an auditorium with seats sold for upwards of $100, plays in the subway at rush hour and is barely noticed. It begs the question of what beauty, talent, and precious moments we pass by each moment without realizing the missed opportunity.

I know I get so busy and task-oriented that it’s hard to stop and look around, slow down the pace of the world, take a moment to breathe. I’ve written about this before, but it’s something that takes constant reminding and self-correction for me, especially now with two children to tend to on top of a full-time job. The grocery lists, doctor’s appointments, bills, laundry, dishes, and meals are so visibly before me and begging to be dealt with. My children’s requests and cries keep me on auto-pilot mother-mode where I can pour a glass of milk, change a diaper, and make a plate of chicken nuggets without even being fully conscious.

How do I turn off that auto-pilot function to look around at the scenery, the daily events whose fibers weave together to form my tapestry of memories? On my desk at work sits the above picture of Mark blowing bubbles for Carter, and a perfect bubble hovers above their head, frozen in time. How do I open my eyes and slow down my mind enough to spot that perfectly floating bubble, gone a moment later? I want to not just see, but notice and note in my memory the light in Carter’s eyes every time he learns something new. I want to permanently record in my mind Cameron’s light-hearted, carefree giggle.

You know that little black box that planes have that record everything that happens? How do I get one of those installed so that when my auto-pilot accidentally kicks on, I can refer to the little black box to see and hear what I missed. Simple joy and beauty surrounds me every day. I want to savor every last minute of it.

Happy Birthday, Carter

Today is Carter’s third birthday. He has been talking about it for months, and it’s finally here. (Although he still said this morning, “My birthday’s coming!”, not quite understanding that it’s actually today.) This is a big one. It’s the first birthday he’s actually been anticipating and will be celebrating. The past two have really been more about us and our celebration of his life, but this year he gets to take part. He gets to begin to understand that we are celebrating his life and our love for him. Last night felt like Christmas Eve for me, secretly wrapping presents and eagerly anticipating the morning.

This morning I had put some presents of the table, and when Carter saw them, he said with amazement, “Presents?”, as if he wasn’t quite sure if they were for him or whether he could touch them. By 6:30am, he had unwrapped two books, a shape shorter, three race cars, and a race track. Not bad considering the sun hadn’t even come up yet.

As a child, you don’t recognize that celebrating your birthday is as exciting for the parents as it is for you. Now as a mother I realize that this special day is also about celebrating the beginning of our family. The day I became a mother and Mark and I became parents. It’s as much a “mother’s day” as it is Carter’s birthday. I catch myself smiling today for no reason other than the joy of this special day. Happy Birthday, Carter.

Joyful Journey

For my birthday I had requested from Mark to plan a short family trip for us. We don't often pay to stay places, so that would be a treat, and having someone else plan a trip was a gift in itself. Mark enlisted the help of his students and found Joyful Journeys, a delightful hot springs getaway. He booked us to stay in the yurts, something totally new to me. I was excited when we set out this past Thursday, but a little apprehensive just because I had such high expectations for it.

The past three days have been some of the best days we've had as a family. Things went smoothly, and the rhythm just seemed right on. It was just us, so we had no one else's agenda to fit into, and we could do what felt right at the time without external constraints. The weather was absolutely gorgeous, and the kids were in good spirits, likely feeding off Mark's and my concurrent happiness.

We soaked often in the crystal clear, untreated waters, and they even had a pool that was cool enough for Carter. We also went to the Great Sand Dunes National Park, a place I had been before with 60 of my students, so it was a whole different experience with our small group of four. The Alligator Farm, a highly touted attraction in the area was another of our planned day trips. It turned out to be quite an odd place, more like your weird aunt Betty's backyard where she keeps odd animals that happen to come her way.

On our last morning there, I even got to take a two hour yoga class because there happened to be a yoga retreat there for the weekend, and the instructor let me drop in to a class. It was quite different than many other classes I've taken, and refreshing for that reason.

The one downer for the trip was my camera that got dropped in the sand and is not functioning at the moment (hence, the lack of accompanying pictures). Hopefully, some of the links will make up for the visuals.

The past three days far exceeded my expectations. Again, it was less about what we did, and more about how we were able to enjoy our time together as a family. It reminds me that these years with itsy bitsy kids can be trying, but that it doesn't have to be all hard, and that it does get easier. This trip reminded me how very much I really love the little family we have created. I feel so complete. These past few days truly were a joyful journey for all of us.

Bliss

I have been on fall break for almost a week now, and I've gotten lots done and had gobs of quality time with the kids. However, Mark was out of town this weekend, worked this week, and has been gone a few of the past nights, so I've been doing the parent thing largely on my own.

Wednesday night after Mark had been out climbing and called to see if he could go to dinner with his friend, he asked, "By the way, how are things going there?"

I responded with a sigh, "Well, you know, it's day five of me and the kids." In the back of my mind I knew I still had the rest of the week days on my own, and then again this weekend when Mark will be in charge of entertaining his friend who's coming in to town.

Without hesitation, Mark suggested he take Thursday off from work so I could go do what I wanted. He said I could come and go and do what I needed to feel like I was getting a break. I jumped at the opportunity.

I didn't do anything spectacular, a couple hours shopping with birthday money and a great new yoga class I found. We had to go to grandma's to install a disposal, plans that had already been made, so I was mom again for a few hours.

But it was such a rejuvenating day. It was freedom I hadn't felt in such a long time. It was less about what I did and more about the fact that Mark took away much of the guilt I often have when I leave everyone. I had no reason to feel like I was missing out on precious kid time because I had already had several days and knew I had another week and a half with them. And Mark wasn't having to give up on something fun in order for me to leave. Just a day of work. But most of all, Mark suggesting my leaving and therefore made me feel like I had his "blessing" to go.

It's amazing the difference the mental part plays in my feeling "released" and therefore more refreshed. The day was less about what I did and more about my ability to really enjoy my time alone.

serenity

I have been working on ways to get a little me time every once in awhile, and one of the most rejuvenating things for me is a hike in the woods. Above is a picture of a gorgeous afternoon where I got out by myself (with Winston) and could just walk and think and breathe. The sunlight was streaming through the trees and some of the aspens were just starting to turn. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect day.

I am living more and more by the mantra that I can't be a good mom unless I am good to myself, too. These weekend afternoons are the boost I need to not only get through but enjoy this stage of life with my kids. Look how sweet they are!

Why there is a God

"Where dat come from?"

"Why?"

These are Carter's two favorite questions right now. For everything. For anything I say, he responds with one of these two questions, and as fast as I can answer him, he asks again for the answer I've given. Here's a sample conversation:

"Mommy, what doin'?"
"I'm taking the trash out."
"Why?"
"Because it's full."
"Where dat come from?"
"Well, when we throw lots of things away, it fills up the trash."
"Why?"
"Because things take up space."
"Why?"
"They're made of something called matter. That means they take up space."
"Where dat come from?"

This is where I get stuck. Where does matter come from. And it all started with taking out the trash. I've tried explaining the history of the universe, the big bang theory, the structure of an atom. I've tried cycling through simple answers a two-year-old will understand.

Now I understand the simple answer, "God," that so many people give. No wonder people believe in God. He's that final answer in the end that stops the cycle of questioning. Maybe I'll find my faith after all.

This too shall pass

Right now my life feels so very full that it’s beginning to stretch at the seams, the individual threads that hold it together are visible and strained. Those little threads that contain the weight of my days and nights are vulnerable to the slightest abrasion that could slice through the fibers, and it all could come tumbling down.

I am trying just to maintain right now, not take on too much or go too fast. Be gentle with myself and try to do the same for others. The Jewish phrase, “This too shall pass,” rings true with me right now, regarding both the lovely and the irksome. I feel surrounded by this dichotomy right now, cherishing the quiet moments with Cameron and his baby smell, and breathing through the long days of working and mothering and “wifing” with little time for myself.

“This too shall pass” has become my mantra recently, to remind myself to enjoy the little moments in life because they will soon be gone, and to let go of many of my worries, because they are only temporal. Do not rush through these days; there will be time for other aspirations and desires. What I have now is worth embracing with every atom of my being.

The Mask of Motherhood

Yesterday I got together with two friends who have kids the same ages as Carter and Cameron. It was the first time all three of us have been together with all of our kids. The conversation started out with the standard, "How is your baby sleeping? How is the older sibling handling it?" etc. But slowly, comments about some of the common mother struggles we're dealing with began to come out. Like, how it can be exhausting to be a mother and wife in the same day. And that our kids actually annoy us sometimes. And that some part of us is actually looking forward to returning to work. But as each of these admissions was made, the confessor would follow it with some comment like, "I must be the worst mother in the world," or, "Isn't that terrible?" rather than assuming that such negative thoughts and feelings are totally normal.

In my experience it seems mothers are expected to love and smile at every aspect of motherhood, and to not like part of it is some sort of failure. We don't openly discuss the moments we don't like; it's only in hushed intimate conversations that we admit such things. Why is that? We easily express our frustrations with work, with in-laws, even with spouses to an extent, but for some reason being a parent is different.

Everyone says that being a mother is the hardest, best job there is. But it has become such a cliche phrase that it's lost its meaning. Becoming a mother is so easy--one passionate night--that the difficulty of successfully raising a child doesn't even fall on the same scale.

I continue to urge myself to be honest and open about motherhood and not put on the smiling supermom mask that disguises when I'm struggling. Expressing my true, unfiltered feelings almost always results in someone else nodding along and sighing in relief that she's not alone, either. In this way stronger bonds are made among mothers and we each feel a little less alone. A little more normal. A little more forgiving of ourselves as mothers.

A new dance

I'm taking a deep breath right now. And a second. Not something that happens very often around here these days. Life is full with two kids. Sometimes it feels so chaotic that I wish I could snap my fingers and escape to five years ago, but those moments are few and far between. Mostly, I love the feeling of completeness I have when I am caring for my family.

Mark and I are gingerly feeling out the dance steps needed to follow the music of two children. Sometimes I have to stand in place rocking a baby in my arms while Mark twirls around me to entertain Carter. Other times, Mark has to bow off the dance floor to take a few minutes' rest and nurse a beer before re-entering, ready to go again. We definitely step on each other's toes at times, but we try to be understanding and recognize that neither of us is familiar with this new music, that we both need time to find the rhythm and get in the groove.

Below are some recent pictures of some of our more peaceful moments. I try to make an effort to cherish those times when we are just living in the moment without worries of finances and daycare and parenting disagreements.

Mark and the boys on the couch (credit: Noelani for the cute clothes!) As you can see, Cameron is having no problem putting on weight. After his most recent doctor's appointment, the doctor said I seem to be equipped to feed triplets, at least. Cameron had gained 4 pounds in two weeks, half his body weight.

This is Cameron's first camping trip at six weeks old. People thought we were crazy for doing it, but I think we needed to prove to ourselves that we could still get out in the the woods, even with two kids. It went pretty smoothly. Not quite as relaxing as camping without kids, but still better than not going. I think we're going to attempt it again this weekend, with some climbing mixed in, too.

Me and the boys. Cameron's getting some naked time to heal his diaper rash, and Carter's hammin' it up for the camera. Lately, when Carter sits next to Cameron or asks to hold him, he then says, "Camera?" as if to imply, "Don't we look cute enough to take a picture of?" And he's usually right.

I

Life's choices

I just finished watching a special on MTV about a guy who documented his year traveling around the world. He gave up his high-paying job in NYC and spent $20,000 in 23 countries over 50 weeks. I spent a bit of my day getting out newborn baby clothes and washing burp clothes for our upcoming family addition.

In this moment I find myself melancholy, not for the path I've chosen and regret, but for not being able to live two simultaneous lives that cannot coexist. Travel has always been a huge love of mine, and I look back at my times out of the country with only the fondest memories. But I think of my little boy sleeping soundly in the next room, and my heart melts.

Everyone always tells you that life is tough; that it's full of choices; that you can't have everything. I know this, and yet I still wish I could fulfill my dichotomous needs of having a family and traveling the world. I know that kids and a husband don't automatically mean I can't have some adventures abroad, that there are ways to make it happen, but traveling single with loose plans and no one to answer to don't fit in that picture.

Do I wish I had done more before I got married and had kids? I really don't think so. I love the life I've chosen and the family that completes me. But I find myself looking around at this moment, and noticing all the stuff we have, and how complicated things are at times. Have I gotten too comfortable in the suburban, family-years, 3-car owning lifestyle that is absent in the presence of travel? I have glimpses into a fantasy of getting rid of most of our things, living out of a little rental apartment, and having the freedom of being mobile again. After looking into selling our house and finding out what a mistake that would be, we are anything but in a position to uproot right now.

Part of my mental state right now, I'm sure, is due to the fact that I'm 30 weeks pregnant and extremely limited in what I can do. I'm not even supposed to fly on a plane beginning in a few weeks, much less travel around the world, and that simple restriction makes it look all the more appealing.

Perhaps what I need to focus on is not what I wish for that I can't have, but what little things I can do now that will at least partially satiate my need for experiencing something new and different, something beyond white-skinned, English-speaking, hamburger-eating Americans. A short, inexpensive trip to Mexico or the Caribbean may even do it for me. I'll keep that as food for thought for now.

Meanwhile, I will enjoy the choices I have made and recognize all that I would be missing out on if I were off traveling: A wonderful husband and a little boy who is the light of my world. These are not small things to be thankful for.

my own little fireworks show

As I was getting ready for bed tonight, I filled up Winston's water bowl and happened to look out the window. Something caught my eye. Our house sits up on a hill, so we can see for quite a few miles, and it happened that somewhere in the area, there was a terrific fireworks display. I had a great, unobstructed view and just stood and watched. There's something so beautiful and indescribable about fireworks. And I got to thinking, that's what it's like to love your own child.

Everyone can tell you how great it is, how you'll be so amazed and changed and humbled, but it's really not something that can be described. People will sometimes ask me to tell them a funny story about what Carter's up to lately, and I try, but I know it never comes close to the actual experience. We recently got Carter a little grocery cart, and he absolutely loves the thing. He'll go around the house gathering up toys, his blanket, a cup of milk, anything, and pushes everything around in his grocery cart. It makes me giggle every time I see it. But, do you see? Telling the story makes it sound like such a non-event, something not even worth mentioning.

Here's another one: Carter likes to stay in the car in the garage after we come home, and he just climbs over the seats and pushes lots of buttons. I make sure to check on him every couple minutes, so tonight when he was playing around and I was peeking in, he accidentally leaned really hard on the horn and totally scared himself. He immediately dropped down into the driver's seat and looked around, trying to figure out what had happened, and seeing whether anyone was coming to tell him he was in trouble. I just stayed still with my head peaked in, and when he finally saw me, he smiled and sighed with relief, saying, "Beep, beep!" Again, a mediocre story, but the love I felt for him at that moment was overwhelming. He has so much curiosity, independence, and just plain-old cuteness that just makes me melt inside.

He's my little impromptu display of fireworks. I never know when he's going to put on a show that's going to leave me in awe and full of love and wonder, but I know the feeling I have will never be justified by description or explanation.