Holding On...

"Faith...is the art of holding on to things your reason once accepted, despite your changing moods." - C.S. Lewis


Holding on is so hard to do in life. I mean, we wouldn't say "hold on" if there was not a real reason why we needed to grab something with both hands and not let go. Hold on to happiness. Hold on that that rope. Hold on to the past. Hold on to the memories. Hold on to your sanity. Hold on to that hand that will keep you from falling into a pit of darkness. Hold on to who you are.

In this magical of seasons, I am holding on so tight to rituals and traditions. I am having the most fun I have ever had during this festive time of year. In the last few weeks, my children have made me realize that I am holding on to pieces of me and memories that were buried so deep inside my self. And with each new realization, I find myself holding on tighter and tighter.

In our house, this season has brought such special things; picking out a Christmas tree together, decorating it, hanging tinsel for the first time since I was little, picking out a new tree topper together and then realizing we loved our Family Angel so much we now have two tree toppers, gazing at decorated Christmas lights every night on the way home from school, shouting "Good Morning, Santa!" on the way to drop off Kyle at school each morning as we drive by a blow up lawn decoration of Santa in a hot air balloon, reading old Christmas stories, watching classic Christmas movies and singing every Christmas song ever written, baking, cooking, decorating, singing together, the excitement each morning of opening up each new door of the advent calendar, hearing my Mother's voice in the new Frosty book she gave the boys and feeling just how special it is to ME just to hear her sweet voice reading a story out loud, new cuddly Christmas pajamas, wrapping presents together, decorating gingerbread cookies, putting together a working train under our tree, doing a happy dance for no reason, answering new questions and telling the story of Jesus being born on Christmas Day and most of all, being together and not letting moments slip away....holding on as tightly as I can.

With all of these happy, exciting, magical moments of Christmas, I suddenly started to feel stressed and emotional today. It crept up on my like a quiet little ghost and then BOO! I found myself missing my Grandparents and times of my childhood more today than any other day this year or years before. I sat on the floor of Charlie's room tonight while he settled cozily into his bed. We listened to Christmas carols together as he lay with eyes closed and a sweet smile upon his little face quite content in that moment. I was as well, until 'I'll be home for Christmas' came up in the shuffle of music I put on. I was cranky today and felt the stress of not having everything in order for Christmas by now. But at this dark, quiet moment in my child's room, I felt this wave of MISS come over me. Past childhood Christmas's, Grandparents who have never met my children and traditions that had long been forgotten.

I just hope that my children feel the love and traditions of the holidays that I felt when I was a kid. I hope that someday, they will look back and fondly remember these days of magical moments in our family. I get so overwhelmed and anxious when the magic moment is anything but magic. I get frustrated with ordinary life and people that don't fit in to my grand expectation. The expectations I put on myself get pretty heavy as well.

And so I should really be working on one of my gifts right now or work or wrapping presents....But instead I sit here finally watching 'It's a Wonderful Life' and writing. So thanks to anyone who might be reading. Hold on to your special memories and even if it makes you a little sad sometimes to think that the time has gone by way to fast, you will then still at least have those special times in your heart.

Thankful for Moments of Gitty

''Tis the season I suppose, for giving thanks, for being "thankful." Gratitude, as my family likes to call it. "It's time for Gratitude" I hear announced once the dishes are cleared. We then gather around the dining room table after a full meal of turkey and all the fixings. We each take a turn verbalizing our thoughts of great thanks and appreciation for everything we have in that moment. And always a special thanks for those at that very table we sit and for those that have gone on to a higher place. It's this special ritual that my family does every year that we all either look so forward to or completely dread. I realize that not all families do such things, as it might be uncomfortable or awkward to spill that much emotion all over people who may just have big brick walls around them every day, never-mind Thanksgiving Day.

So it is in this tradition that I usually take the role as one of the "cryers" at the table. I guess it wouldn't be Thanksgivinging without me crying at least once. Crying for happiness or for sadness or out of pure frustration with life. This year I spoke of my gratitude for doors opening unexpectedly when others were slammed in my face. I thanked everyone for being my guardians, my sounding boards and my support line. It has definitely been a weird rough road for me lately and I just felt so much and suddenly needed to let it all just flow out of me whichever way it chose to. With the powerful explosion of thoughts....and tears, I did not want to take up more time and ended up not acknowledging my gratitude for the most significant part of my life.

With the dramatic comings and goings of many minutes throughout the day, it's sometimes hard to keep track of what needs to be done or said. My brain rapidly processes thoughts while I am in the shower or driving to work and I think how important and precious those thoughts are. This is, until I get out of the shower or step into my office at work and those "precious thoughts" seem to evaporate into thin air. So, document, document, document - I keep saying to myself. Keep track of it all, so I can remember to be thankful! Remembering the good, happy times that make me gitty!....that is what gets me through all of the other "stuff."

I am so thankful for the moments in the wee hours of the morning when the birds start to chirp or the highway humms from far down the hills below us and each of my boys are asleep in their cozy little beds. I am thankful for these moments because these children are quiet, they are innocent and cute. It's a brand new day, a fresh, clean slate and new aspirations are set. At this hour, these little bodies are warm and comfy in their PJ's. They are still cuddling with their favorite toy with their blankets pulled high up to their chins. As I gently wake them up, little smirks appear on their faces and sometimes a hand reaches out for me or full blown arms for a big bear hug; all still with eyes shut tight and squeaky little noises being made with their throats.

I am thankful for the precious words that melt my heart on a daily basis. "I just love you so much, Mommy." "Mommy, can you please play with me?" "When I grow up, I want to be as soft and cozy as you and Daddy." "Will you stay with me forever, Mommy and never leave?... except on boys night?"

I am thankful for good moods and excitement. When getting the mail seems to be as exciting as an amusement park, when a plan to have movie night makes them shout right out loud "YAY! Movie Night!!!" or when they are so excited to show me a toy they built out of Legos that they will literally jump up and down as I look at the intricate detail. These moments of pure elation, I am so grateful for.

I am thankful for smiles. Simple smiles from my boys direct to me; from across the room, at the dinner table, when I pick them up after school and they run to me with so many teeth showing I can count the lot of them....

I am thankful that they want to share with me; their meal, their crayons, their toys or stories of the day's happiest moments.

In the dark quiet of this bedtime moment, I sit finishing up this necessary account of thankfulness and I hear the sweet serenade of soft yawns and little snores. (with an occasional cough) But as I sit here, I am not thinking about the traumatic morning routine and drop off we had this morning or the horrendous bedtime routine tonight. It was a rough day with not a lot of smiles from one of my boys, not too much sharing or excitement. But I think more in this moment about how blessed I am to have two such genuinely well behaved children who get excited and gitty about the little events in life; bath-time, underwear on their head and our Elf on a Shelf. Being gitty is definitely contagious and though I may not get the same rush of fever over getting the mail each day, I am gitty about being loved by such a wonderful family....even when it is "just boys night."

Connections

It would be amazing to me if someone had gone through life without making any real soulful connections. I would have to ask myself; Were they not paying enough attention? Were they not ever in need of such a link to another individual? I would need to investigate further. I have heard people say "...I have enough friends." Enough? Really? What if you think you have satisfied all of the hunger inside of your heart and you end up missing out on something really profound? That is what life is about; you take a left instead of a right and boom! you meet someone you wouldn't have met by going the other way.
(a few of my favorite movies - just the trailers - about how connections, unexpected situations and people you meet by chance are so cool! Prelude to a Kiss, Serendipity, Forces of Nature, Sleepless in Seattle)

My husband and I went away to New York City this past weekend. It was a well-deserved and much-needed couple of days just for us. On the train coming home, we sat next to an older woman that I felt a strange sort of kinship with. Her appearance and mannerisms were extremely familiar to me and for a brief minute I thought I could be related to her. I listened as she told her story about a bad train experience she had in Italy. I felt warm with a sense of home in my heart as she spoke. Maybe subconsciously I needed that feeling right then. Or maybe it was her that actually needed something from us as she was traveling alone. I really believe these brief but poignant experiences are so important in life and should not be ignored.

I feel so blessed to have the connections I have gained in my life. One of the most important is my sweet husband. We both had the opportunity to move out of state right before we met. Without real reasons as to why, we both chose to stick around long enough for that first simple handshake. We became friends and ended up connecting in a way that made us feel like we had known each other all our lives. Maybe at some level we had. I am certainly glad other forces were on our side and brought us together. We have made such a beautiful life together.

My boys are a connection that I was never certain I would ever have. I mean, of course I dreamed about the wedding, the husband, the white picket fence....but the kids....they were always headless, personality-less. I could not even connect with the thought, never-mind dream about the actual little beings that would one day be the ultimate loves of my life. The connection I feel to them is the deepest, most soulful feeling in the world. When we picked them up at my Mother's tonight, I put out my arms and they ran to me. I felt such a sense of completeness that I wish I could explain in words. As a mother, my biggest fear in life is that time will zoom by and I will forget these moments of connection with my boys. They are able to sense when I am sad, when I am happy and when I am mad. They cuddle with me, sing to me and make me laugh all the time. I know when they are disappointed, frustrated or hurt and the best part is that I can usually help them through it. What will I do when this feeling of kinship is not so strong or reliable?

"Charlie's" birthday is coming up soon. In the quiet moments of just him and I driving home from my Mom's tonight, he told me he would like to have a Christmas-How-to-Train-Your-Dragon birthday party this year. He told me that cupcakes would be the best part of his birthday and would like to go to the store with me to pick out some Christmas decorations. He was planning it all out and with each thought, he got more and more excited. We were connected in this simple little moment in time and I will always cherish it.

I was tucking "Kyle" into bed tonight after we read a couple of books all together. He was so lethargic and yawned just about twenty times in a row. I wrapped him up in his blankets and we chanted together as we always do; "snug as a bug in a rug." I whispered in his ear "I am glad you had so much fun with Nana and Pepa this weekend." He closed his eyes and I thought he was just about drifting off to sleep, but then whispered back to me. "I did have fun. I missed you so much though." He said it with a little smile and a few seconds later he was snoring. Come on! No wonder I could not imagine real kids in my future. With moments like these, I do not think I could even dream of a more perfect moment or connection with my children.

I am reading a book right now by Katrina Kenison 'The Gift of an Ordinary Day'. I have never met this woman, but I feel the strongest connection to her. She is truly the 'future me.' I should have said I am trying to read her book right now. I cannot get through the pages without drenching them with my tears. (it was a bit embarrassing on the train today). I connect with her on many levels, but two of the most important are as a writer and a Mother who cherishes every single moment with her two boys. Her guys are older now and she is dealing with the realizations of how fast time has gone by for her. She treasures moments with her boys then and now. A part of me thinks I may not be able to continue to read this book right now as it brings some of my greatest fears to life. I will keep writing and documenting, but time still ticks by. I don't want to forget. I don't want to miss. I pray every day that I am given the strength to live in each moment and cherish every simple conversation without regret.

As I progress on my own writing journey as a new Hartford Parenting Examiner, a Freelance Writer for a local media corporation, blogging, writing my own book and starting up a website, I hope you all will continue to follow me and support me. I value our connection.

The Heart of the Matter

As I sit alone in this quiet little spec of time with my thoughts; I am at peace with myself. I wonder how I even got to this place. Many outside sources and inside voices contributed to choices I have made. And I think I realize now that when I actually pay attention to signs and signals, I can find the core of a problem, the answer to a question, the solution to a dilemma. The core of any situation is really what is most important. An apple has a core. The earth has a core. We, as humans have a core. As the earth spins on it's axis, as the tides ebb and flow, we strive for balance. It's our core being, our soul that keeps us balanced. But sometimes, we lose track of what our core is telling us and we can spin out of control.

My youngest son was having a hard time going to bed at night. Each night, it would be a major battle to get him into bed and then to get him to stay there. We would start off gentle and kind and end up frustrated, tired and yelling. One night, he whispered in my ear "I don't like my room, Mommy." I was not really sure at the time as to whether it was truth or fiction as a tactic to stall and get me to stay with him or invite him into our room. The mission began the next day when I decided that for his birthday, we would give him a new room. He is now excited about taking EVERYTHING out of his bedroom and painting the walls "blue and green." We are picking out curtains together and he even picked out a Patriots throw rug. He has been sleeping in our spare room for now. To my surprise, he is perfectly content in this storage-like room with boxes, an old TV that does not work and a queen sized bed next to his small toddler bed that he sleeps in. He does not wish to switch rooms and realizes this is just a transition room. This process was so rejuvenating and a good lesson for me. If you are unhappy, find out why and do something about it.

My oldest son gets frustrated very easily. He gets mad at himself, mad at his brother and definitely mad at me. He is Irish and Italian, so we certainly did not help him out in the temper department. However, it seemed like there was something else going on. As the persistent and curious person I am, I was determined to look into this matter further. I would watch him and analyze these mini-tantrums. What I was not watching was myself and my own reaction to his frustration. I realized after quite a few episodes that I was probably reacting worse to his initial reaction. His frustration was frustrating to me. I felt myself jumping out of my skin sometimes and saying "Come over here and I will fix it FOR you!" or I would state his name sternly if he dropped food or a drink on the floor. His reaction always worsened after my involvement. I sat down next to him the other night after an incident and calmly asked him what frustrated him most about the situation. He looked at me with a plump lower lip, furrowed brow and a tear slowly sliding down his face and said "when you said my name." I realized that I was becoming part of this problem and frustration sure is catchy! So after I got out the dust pan and swept up all the pieces of my broken heart, I decided I did not want be part of his sadness and frustration anymore. We decided we are going to work together on improving our reactions to life's frustrating events.

Getting to heart of the matter of what really makes us happy or sad is so important. Staying true to our core beliefs can be difficult sometimes, but when we do, it is rewarding. Getting to the core of any problem can be hard work but it has a pay off. And as my son said just the other day, "Biting into the core of an apple is yucky, just so you know."

Struggling for Patience

Adopt the pace of nature....Her secret is patience.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson









I often wonder what it must be like to be calm and accepting. As a busy Mom, I run from one thing to another; always in a rush, always frustrated with myself. I fluster over the lack of time, getting stuck in traffic, unavoidable small disasters like spilled milk or chalk dust.

I am amazed every single day with my children's ability to sit still or listen during crazy times. I realize that I cannot keep highlighting the times when they are running down the hall in their underwear pretending they are being chased by a Star Wars droid. I yell, I count, I threaten time-outs with not a lot of results. As I sit here now, I think about their mood, the time of day or the lack of my own attention to them during those moments.

Then there are the moments like recently; they each had their days of catching a virus and I had to bring them to the Doctor. Each had to sit in the cold patient room in his skivvies, waiting for the Doctor to come in to examine his sickly little body. They each sat, they listened, they were calm and cute. And on that day, seemed to have adopted the pace of nature. I admired my youngest son for being so brave and so willing to do whatever it took to get better. I envied the humor my oldest son still found in simple things like putting the puke pail on his head while he waited. These are the times to highlight. These are the times for me to rejoice in their ability to learn what patience is.

My children struggle with their own patience issues. I am positive my husband and I are the perfect role models for how to lose your patience. The most frustrating thing is when that flat Lego piece will not come off of that other thin small Lego piece! I hear screams, grunts and whines and finally little feet running to me for assistance. "I can't get this off, Mommy!!!" Falling in the driveway and skinning a knee really gets them mad. Carrying two backpacks, a lunch box and a coat can be a huge undertaking. And of course, there is always that one difficult jump that Luke has to make in the Star Wars Wii game that they just can't get right. As I said, I am not exactly the most patient person demonstrating my calming ability to take things in stride.

When I was in my twenties, I took up golf for a short while. I thought it would be a good social sport I could play that was quiet and calm. I liked watching it on TV, it was soothing to listen to and calming to watch. I knew my Grandfather would be proud of me, my boyfriend and I would have another thing to do together and I would develop another interest. I still believe it's good to find new interests.

Anyway, my Grandfather and I spent some time in his back yard with an old bicycle tire inner tube and a club they call a chipper. He would chuck the tube across the yard and I had to chip the ball into the circle. I loved the activity and especially the time with my Grandfather. I still think about it now and can see the look of pride on his face. The idea of golfing was all looking good from my point of view. Until....I actually stepped onto a golf course to play.

You see, on a golf course, the inner tube is not so close or even so big. You have to actually hit the ball towards this teeny tiny hole that you cannot really see. My aim was not as good as chipping the ball into a tire size hole a couple of feet away. My strength to even get the ball close to the hole was lacking as well. I was frustrated, annoyed and tired. I kept hearing from others around me, "You have to have patience." That is correct, you do. News flash, I was fresh out.

I would like to say it was a life changing event that gave me more strength to become a much more patient individual. I would like to say that. Instead, I just now know I am not a golfer and that my patience is lacking.

As I struggle now to find that new and exciting job opportunity that will make me feel whole again, I think about golf and how I gave up because of my lack of patience. I have more at stake now but I am just as frustrated. That little hole seems so far away and so unattainable. I just cannot get my aim straight, the wind is blowing hard and I'm tired.

Virtue is a trait that is defined as moral excellence. Is patience really morally excellent? I mean, do we really have to put that much pressure on ourselves to be morally excellent?

So in the meantime, I will put the puke pail on my head, smile and do whatever I need to do make this better. Moral excellence might be too high of a standard for me right now or ever, for that matter. But I am willing to try for myself and my family and to teach my children the lesson of patience; that even though the inner tube is really small and far away, you can reach it... eventually.

Developing skills is a skill!

"Wisdom is knowing what to do next, skill is knowing how to do it and virtue is doing it." - David Starr Jordan

From the very day we are conceived, we begin growing. In the beginning, there are subtle changes that occur and then suddenly there are fingers and toes and other recognizable body parts. Oh! It's a baby in there! When we are born, we don't stop growing and developing; we grow taller, we learn to communicate and eat solid foods. But there is more than just growing and going along with the main stream of childhood development. There are things we call skills; talents each one of us learn or develop, grow into or grow to love. The challenge is realizing we have abilities and finding that special skill or skills inside of us.

Being a mother of two young boys, I witness daily growth, a lot of skill building and trying out new things for the first time. It is amazing what they learn, comprehend and actually hold onto in their own little skill bank. I admire that innocent talent so much.

I think, as adults, we sometimes lose that motivation for, or the understanding of, mastering a skill. We think we are too old, it's too dangerous, it's too complicated. Our life experiences of past skill building can stop us in our tracks. However, sometimes we surge forward after one ridiculous attempt after another just to say to others or even ourselves that we are a master at something. Even in the simplest of tasks, we can feel defeated and continue to try and improve upon the mistakes we have made in order to succeed just a little. We lose the grasp on the whole concept of how to actually become good at something. The other night we were reading a book before bedtime. My older son stopped me mid-story and said "I learned something in Kindergarten today. All you have to do is try and as long as you do your best, it's ok." Even now, I am not quite sure where that came from and why he said it right then. But a little piece of me thinks he was picking up on my own skill insecurities and thought he'd pass along a bit of this new found wisdom.

In my current professional situation, I am soul searching quite a bit; wondering if there are any real skills that I can offer to an organization. There are many jobs I would love to do, but am unfortunately an amateur at and therefore could not perform in a professional capacity. The skills I do have may not be able to offer me what I want at this point in my life. So I continue to research, soul search, try and do my best.

In my home life, there are also many jobs that I am still working on perfecting. For instance, I have yet to master the art of brushing my teeth while ironing. That is a skill set that definitely still needs some practice. Who ever invented the TV tray was a genius. However, they must have put that invention on the back burner for improvements, as I still have not yet mastered the skill of folding it without pinching my finger and somehow slamming it shut. I am thankful these are not important must-have career skills.

My children surprise me every day with their wonderment, their courage, ideas and their questions. All of the above are such positive strides towards perfecting their own skills. For them, anything can become a boat or a ship; the DVR, a cardboard box or our coffee table with a make shift bridge. My older son creates magnificent space ships out of the smallest Lego pieces. My younger son is so thoughtful. He comes out with questions like "If birds like breadcrumbs and chip crumbs, how come they don't like hot dogs?" and "If lightning McQueen is not a girl, why do they call him McQUEEN?" About two years ago, my older son started pushing our kisses in so they wouldn't fall off. My younger son has a memory like an elephant; he remembers discussions we had weeks ago, places we went, people we have seen and can recite it all back even if we do not wish to hear it all right then. They love playing sports like golf and soccer and using their imaginations with Legos, Star Wars figures and playdough. They are full of life and so much energy. And just when I think they are getting old enough for me to be able to teach them some real life lessons, it seems as though they are teaching me once again. I was having a difficult time trying to tie a balloon the other day and my son looked up at me with his big innocent eyes and said "You just have to practice, Mommy."

A Little Encouragement

The smell of apple pie baking in the oven. Just saying that gives me such a warm and nostalgic feeling inside. It reminds me of warm and happy times with my family, of being home and happy. There are smells, thoughts, songs, feelings and dreams that bring me back to specific times in my life. Whether these were good times or bad, I am immediately transported back just by a simple second of time crossing my path again.

I wonder what will bring me back to this time of my life someday in my future. I wonder; will it be a favorite song I play a lot right now? Will it be the taste of a mudslide martini? Will it be the Cantina song from Star Wars? Will it be the chilly rain misting on the tip of my nose in the crisp fall air? I wonder.

The future holds many positive times for me, I am sure. Many things can catapult me into the next phase of my life. In life, we go from one step of life to another in an instant and sometimes without us even knowing it is happening. Transitions and times of change can be so hard. I am currently going through a time of change and uncertainty in my life right now. I thought I would have more control over this type of change and I found myself completely opposite of that; out of control. I find myself leaning on what I know, what is familiar to me, what makes me feel good. I look for extra cuddles from my boys, winks and smiles from my husband, old songs, family traditions and good friends and family. These are what can get me through this weird time. I am needy. I am vulnerable. I am weak. I feel like I am going through a recovery period and going through the motions of being ecstatic, elated, shock, denial, bitterness, anger then finally acceptance and motivation and energy to surge forward. A good friend of mine really laid it on the line for me last week and helped me up off the floor; figuratively speaking. I was at my lowest point and she was there to be tough, loving and supportive. I was able to get up and stand up for myself. It was amazing what that did for me. I immediately felt better about myself and my situation. And though I am still stressed and unsure about my future, I feel more confident in myself and motivated to go after a dream or two.

I am dedicated to my children and teaching them about love, eating healthy, staying safe and now just how important it is to be confident in themselves. It's the memories that we make for ourselves as we go along our merry way that make us who we are. I feel so lucky to have to two young boys that I can help shape into polite and strong gentlemen. I feel so lucky to have two young boys that can help me get through my own tough times. I know there will be so many little things that will bring me back to this time in my life. Hearing the sound of their laugh, the smell of their fresh clean hair, the warmth of their hug and yes, probably the cantina song. But I know, I will remember this specific time in my life as a catalyst of change. I will know how important this was for all of us; me, my family and my friends. I am sure I will find my way and start to feel like a good Mom, wife and friend again. With a little encouragement, confidence or a genie in a bottle, I am sure it will all work out.

Thank you all for being so patient with me and supporting me. Thank you, truly. Now I am off to have a slice of my own fresh apple crumble/pie. :)

The Joy of Parenthood

I ask you to take this short journey with me this evening to the crazy side of life. If for no other reason, I am writing tonight to help myself through a chaotic chapter in my little short story. Maybe the future me will read this one day and wish I was back to this exact moment in time. Maybe the future me will relish in the memories and cherish them in the true belief that it was all good rather than crazy, cute rather than terror and maybe I'll just giggle. For now, take a walk with me to the dark side.

I know how fast time flies by and I don't want to miss these days later on because I am so stressed out. But when my Father hands me a book about overly sensitive children, I have to wonder..."Is it me? Is it what they are exposed to? Is it in their genes?" Naaaah, my children are not overly sensitive at all. Just because Charlie freaked out in the middle of a long walk because his Toy Story cowboy boots got wet and would not walk another step until someone wiped them dry. Just because Kyle had a panic attack this morning because I set out a shirt that actually had buttons on it! I don't know what I was thinking! I mean, we are talking BUTTONS! Those things are lethal! The way they just look at you like little beatty eyes! It's creepy just knowing they are there! I was actually sewing my son's shirt together this morning to overlap the buttons so he couldn't see them. Maybe that is me going too far. But he wore the shirt! Overly sensitive? Not a chance. (I'm reading the book)

I have a hard time distinguishing between fighting a losing battle and fighting a battle worth winning no matter what. I really hate the phrase "pick your battles." That truly means something different to everyone. "You are not excused from the table until everyone is finished eating." "You are not excused from the table until YOU are finished eating." These are rules either way, but I have been told many different versions by friends, Doctors and family members. "Don't fight with them about food, it's not worth it. They won't starve." "Let them leave the table, then you will get to have an adult conversation and they can go play." "Setting rules and boundaries are important. Don't give in or you are being inconsistent and they will confuse the message."

Speaking of mixed messages, my children love to play me like a fine tuned instrument. On a walk the other day, Charlie kept stepping in my path with his hands up for me to hold him. He cried and fell to the ground a few times. I figured "Pick your battles. Just hold him for a little while. He's little, it's a long walk." I would alternate. Hold, walk. Hold, walk. Kyle complained of pure and utter thirst. You would think he wouldn't be so thirsty with the amount of WHINE he was spilling out! Over and over, we heard about the thirsty child. We got to the beach and played for a bit. I ran back to get the car to avoid the horrific-ness of the long walk back. Charlie walks by the car and states very confidently "I don't want to ride in the car. I'm walking." I chuckled and plopped him into his car seat. I raced back to the house in order to get my dehydrated other son a drink. As I handed him a cup of water, he looked up at me with his big blue eyes like I had something smeared all over my face, paused and said "What? I'm not thirsty." and ran off to play.

I walk around most days a zombie due to being up most nights with Charlie as he wakes up at least four to five times throughout the night complaining of different ailments; a bad dream, the dark, his sock is crooked, he has to pee, he can't find Ariel, he thought I called him (& who knows maybe I did). It takes a while for him to settle back down sometimes. And me, well...it takes me a good half hour each time to fall back to sleep. By the time I do, you know who is back at my bed side purposely making a slight little hiccup of a noise so I know he is there. I squint open my eyes to see his little smirk and crinkled face like "I know I'm not supposed to be up, but here I am again....staring at you....."

Don't get me wrong, I do cherish and love my boys more than life itself. I would walk over hot coals for them in an instant! I just wish I knew how to handle the chaos a little better is all. I wish I knew how to be a better Mom. I guess I just keep playing with them, disciplining the only way I know how and plugging along with each day that goes by and treasuring those moments when my children are singing "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me" and "I got a feeling...tonight's gonna be a good night" at the top of their lungs in the middle of a crowded Stew Leonard's. I stare down the on-lookers, smile and start singing along with my boys. It's those moments I put in my pocket and pull out when I need to smile. The moments when I just don't think I can take anymore of the craziness and misbehaving, out pops a warm, heart-felt "I love you Mommy" from Charlie followed by a big hug and kiss. Kyle then tells me "Mommy, I just love you so much. I am going to love you forever, even when I'm old." Those moments..... stay in my heart.

Thanks for keeping me company tonight in this little path of thoughts I took. Maybe it wasn't so dark after all and it did what I had hoped it would. It made me stop for a few minutes and see the JOY of parenthood...no matter what.

A New Religious Journey in the Making

This past Wednesday marked the beginning of the Lenten season; a time when Christians reflect on their sins and come to terms with the fact that they are mortal and must do penance for sins. It's a time to reflect and become a "better person". At least, this is my own interpretation. I am in a place right now where I thought it was time to challenge my own energy, spirit and religion and since we haven't been to church on a regular basis in five years, it was also time to make more of a religious commitment to my children.

There are many events in my life that I wish I could go back in time to as the person I am today. Moments that I would love to look my past self in the eye and shout "Are you freakin kidding me?" or just take a different road. It's definitely my experiences that make me *ME.* My religious journey has definitely given me different feelings throughout different times in my life.

I try to instill the knowledge of God in my children and the thankfulness we should have to him for watching over us, taking care of our family and for giving us so much in our life. But church and lessons beyond home prayer has not been present in our lives.

So here I am, LENT 2010. I had an idea to make my Lenten sacrifice more of a commitment instead. A commitment not to yell at my kids as much and to expose them more to what God is all about and why we pray.

This may sound awful, but I actually bowed out of answering my son during Christmas this past year when he asked who the baby was in the nativity playset at my Mother's house. In that moment, I told my Mother that I was terrible at explaining all of it. She tried to take over and did a great job at teaching, but if you don't follow through on things, children tend to forget. Guess who didn't follow through? I really knew I was in trouble when I floated the idea of going to church to my five year old; Kyle and he replied with "Church? Is that where dolphins live?" Yikes. I kept talking about it the weeks to follow and explaining that it was God's house and people go there to pray together every week.

We decided we would go to church this past Saturday; the first mass of the Lenten season. In the morning, I told Kyle that we were going to church that night. He responded with "What kind of dinner are we going to have there?" Again, I reinforced the praying together; saying some of the prayers we know, some people only praying in their head quietly and the priest and other people telling stories from the bible on the alter. I talked about good listening and behaving...yadda, yadda, yadda. He checked out of that conversation pretty quick.

I had my own doubts even before entering "God's house" that night. I kept telling myself, "Open mind. New beginnings. Learning. Teaching. Humble. Acknowledging my own shortcomings." I was being positive, yet "reflecting that I need to be a better person." The boys didn't know what to make of it when we walked in and saw all of the people sitting in rows facing the alter. I think they thought we were going to see a movie. We sat down in an inconspicuous spot in the back. The boys were immediately taken with the thin paged missalett. They both paged through the books like they were actually reading the words. Suddenly, we heard the organ start to play. It was pretty loud and Kyle was not a big fan of the organ "noise" and the singing. He covered his ears. Instead of crawling under the pew right then, I chose to sternly tell him to take his hands down off of his ears immediately. He fought me a bit and then gave in. He was then taken with the kneelers; which I think every kid is at that age. He wanted it up, he wanted it down, he wanted to stand on it, he wanted to kneel on it and unfortunately, he liked dangling his legs and kicking it while he read his missalett. Charlie was pretty content sitting on B's lap reading books that I brought along with us.

Some things were different for us as well during the mass. They changed the order of some of the "routines", they added in some extra words during prayers and responses, there was even a movie clip that played during the mass. We were puzzled when the lights dimmed and we heard a beating heart rumbling throughout the church. A screen came down and we watched a video about lent. The priest then talked about how some people just go to church every week, they donate money and find something to give up during lent. He told the group that this was not good enough, he explained that people need to change and want to be better. At first, I was sort of taken aback by the fact that all of the items mentioned above were not good enough. But as he went on to explain, I really started to get what he meant.

We stood up, we sat down, we knelt, we bowed our heads and the whole church chanted prayers out loud together. I kept looking at my kid's faces and seeing amazement, confusion and disapproval in some of these catholic church rituals. Overall, I thought they were really well behaved. I was more worried about B and I. Moments startled me like when I started to say a prayer with a different response than everyone else in the church or when I grabbed the coat tail of the woman next to me and she quickly jerked it back toward her or when I held out my hand to say Peace to the woman sitting behind me and she just nodded and gave me a stern look not acknowledging my extended hand.

Later, as I stood here reciting the Apostle's Creed as if no time had passed between church visits, I thought about that past me; the one with no experience or so I thought. I remember standing in church filled with feelings of disbelief, doubt, grief, happiness, thoughtfulness and thoughtlessness. I remember questioning God, believing in God and wondering what I was going to eat for dinner. This night, as I stood before God and his family and surrounded by a much older generation, I somehow felt love and a feeling a accomplishment. If I could go back to that scared or scatterbrained person from the past, I would tell her "Someday, even if you do not go to church all the time, you will be still be filled with God." And even though we haven't been to church on a regular basis, this one visit made me realize that God is inside of me and a part of me and I have given that to my children. This will be my Lenten extension.

As they started music for communion, we honored my Grandparents tradition and quickly donned our coats preparing for our departure after communion. Again, I couldn't help but feel the disapproving stares from the primarily white and gray haired church goers around us. I also realized that it is hard to pray quietly when you dart out the door with children.

We grabbed an idea card for this week's Lenten assignment before we left and suddenly Kyle stopped and asked "Wait, was that it? That was church? It's over already?" I was surprised and happy at the same time. "So far, so good." I thought. We talked in the car about what we did in church and why. I hope this will also help me to improve my teaching skills, not to mention improve on my "church etiquette." All in all, I guess this will make ME a "better person" or at least give my children more of their own religious journey. We'll see.

Staying a Kid at Heart

When I was little, I always thought that nothing could beat being a kid. I loved playing with dolls, matchbox cars and my dog. I loved swimming, rollerskating, playing "kicker", riding my bike and going to the beach. Don't get me wrong, I had my bad times; fighting with my older sister, listening to my parents argue or moments of complete terror like the first day of school. But through all the bad stuff, I still loved being a kid. There was something so magical and fun about every day. I remember one of my teachers telling me one day "Never grow up, Patti. It's too much work."

And so I learned as I traveled along that growing-up-path just how much work it was. I had to get good grades, get in to college, get a job, drive a car, know my way around, make sure I was safe, not be too curious (but curious enough), I had my heart broken more times than I care to admit and I broke hearts of others. I made some mistakes, lost loved ones to a higher power than me, powered through hangovers, food poisoning, wisdom teeth, gum surgery and a miscarriage. What I really ended up learning was not that growing up is too much work, but that with each gut-wrenching moment of badness, something beautiful inside me grew even stronger. I became healthier, more confident, knowledgeable, experienced, stronger and wiser. So, yes a pessimist might say I grew paranoid and more scared of life. But I just call it being cautious.

I never knew. I never ever knew that there was something even better than being a kid; being a Mom. Seeing the look on my child's face when I found the exact Buzz blanket he wanted, that was priceless. When I saw him smile bigger than I thought his little cheeks could go and hug his new wii game, I actually got a bit emotional. Or when my youngest opened up the Seven Dwarves Cottage at his Grandparent's house on Christmas Day and nearly fell onto the floor with shock and disbelief that such a wonderful thing could actually be HIS. I giggled when I saw his little legs in the air as he lay on his tummy playing with the house for most of the next day.

Some moments make time stand still in my mind. I stand before my children simply as an observer and watch as little crumbs of life amaze and wow them. They see or feel something and they just say it or try to explain it outloud.

"Daddy, I really like your smile." Kyle said one day as we were about to sit down for dinner.

Phone conversations from Kyle in Connecticut while I was in Florida "Mommy, I am going to love you forever. I miss you so much."

Some of their senses are heightened too, like colors or smells; good ones AND bad ones: "What the heck is that SMELL?!?"

Their brains are always at work and they come up with some really cool ideas sometimes. One day, they planned a spur of the moment picnic in the middle of our living room instead of sitting at the table.

Though sometimes when they are just beat from a day of school and they don't want to practice their letters and words with me at home, I hear "Mommy, Let's have a snack and watch a movie!"

What they hear seems to be selective when I stand directly in front of them and tell them to put their coat on, it is as if I am yelling it from the next yard. I wonder if the hearing sense is something I should bring to a medical professional's attention. Then I realize just how selective it is when I am having a quiet conversation with a friend and mention Charlie's name and his favorite Jesse doll. Charlie quickly appeared from around the corner and asked "Me Mommy? Are you talking about ME? Are you talking about MY Jesse doll?"

Sometimes I wish I could be this honest and true with my feelings. They feel so much and I hope I can continue to reinforce their trueness. They are really the wise ones. Maybe they can teach me a few things. One day I will come into work and say to my boss: "I don't want to work today. Why don't we have a snack and watch a movie instead?" Or if I hear my name from outside of a closed door, just pop in and say "ME? Are you talking about ME?" Hmmmm....maybe not. But the thought of it, keeps me smiling and keeps me in tune with my own kids so I am still able to make days magical and fun, even though I went and grew up anyway.