To the Toddler Mom in the Deep End

Hey you, yeah you, the mama over there with the toddler that just got out of the pool and is running for the exit. I see you. I see you chasing him and telling him he can’t leave without you. I see you as he yells and twists out of your grasp until you’re just hanging on to a kicking leg. I see the anger and desperation in your eyes.

I see you.

For you motherhood was like stepping into a slightly chilly pool. Uncomfortable and unknown at times, but you always stayed where you could touch. Your head was always above the water and postpartum was more of a high than a low. You loved being a mom from day one and even though there were a few waves in the beginning the waters soon smoothed and warmed. Your baby adjusted effortlessly through developmental stages and you didn’t really relate to the mom-talk of regressions and overwhelming sleep deprivation. For a good two years you floated along with a smile on your face and a tiny bit of a chip on your shoulder. Maybe you just got lucky or maybe God had mercy on you because he knew what was coming.

Toddlerhood threw you right in the deep end where the warm water has turned to ice. You are flailing and choking and you can’t get a grip on the edge. You weren’t ready for the battle of wills, the screaming, and the talking back. You don’t know how to respond when he won’t follow a simple command like putting on his clothes. He wants to brush his teeth himself but gets mad at you when he can’t get the cap off of the toothpaste. When you give him the wrong cup at dinner he acts like you killed the dog. He uses the toilet at school but refuses to even sit on the one at home.  “Because I don’t want to” is his favorite phrase and you’re tempted to have it tattooed on him. You’re not confident in your discipline methods because nothing seems to work. He can sense this weakness and so he doesn’t take you seriously. You resort to having your partner be the bad guy. You feel inadequate and it’s pulling you under.

I see you and you’re not alone. I’m here too.

So what do we do? We remember that the little terrors we see in front of us today were not always and will not always be. We try to think about how the world looks to them as they try to figure out. We give them the space, options, and tools they need to express themselves. We hold on tight to the sweet moments, like when they tell you about their day in their two-year old vocabulary, give you an unexpected kiss, or laugh hysterically at something you never thought was funny before.

We can claw our way out together. I’ll give you a boost and you can pull me up. Rumor is that moms do survive this, and they’re waiting for us under the umbrellas with words of encouragement, war stories, and wine. 

A Thank You Letter to 2016

Thank you 2016...

For showing me I’m braver than I ever thought I could be.  It takes a special kind of crazy to move thousands of miles away from everything you’ve ever known, to start over when you thought you were pretty planted, and to have faith that it’s the right thing.

For giving me confidence.  The older I get, the more I feel my confidence building and in this thirty-third year it took on skyscraper status. Between the move, new relationships, and my changed role at work, I feel as confident in myself as I ever have.

For helping me define my spiritual, social, and political beliefs. This also probably has something to do with age (and a lot to do with the election season), but this year I wrestled with and pinned down many things that before I had just accepted or dismissed.

For pushing me to let my words out into the world. 2016 is the birthday of my writing self. It was when I finally gave in to that small but annoying voice that kept urging me to put the keys to the Word file, even when the louder and more forceful voice was telling me I couldn’t do it. 

For giving me more time.  Our life here is laid back and go with the flow. We have little or no commute, eat dinner at 6 every night, and have left behind the stresses of trying to do everything and be everyone. We have more time to be a family and to be ourselves.

Thank you 2016 for being a year of newness, exploration, and discovery.

The Pain In The Feeling

“What if pain—like love—is just a place brave people visit?”

— GLENNON DOYLE MELTON, LOVE WARRIOR: A MEMOIR

The other day I spent the majority of the afternoon in bed. I wasn’t sick or physically tired but emotionally I was exhausted. The week had caught up with me and by the time Sunday was here, my heart and my head had enough. And so I let the pillows, blankets, and hum of traffic wrap me in their protective space, and for the first time all week I let myself feel. I cried out my worries, confusion, and pain. I cried myself to sleep and then cried some more, but by the time I left my bed I felt renewed. Those things that I cried over were no longer such a burden on my heart. 

Read more over at The Village Magazine. 

The Climb

When my son started crawling we lived in a tri-level house with two sets of stairs. There were no easy ways to gate them, so we didn’t. Like most babies, he was magnetically drawn to the steps, his curiosity and drive to climb to the top was pretty unstoppable. We let him explore, taught him how to slide down on his tummy, and made sure we were always behind him in case he faltered.

****

We all start at the bottom, looking up at the challenges and achievements of each step. Some of us are unsure of the climb and lack the confidence to make it up the first stair. Our paths to accomplishments are filled with obstacles. A broken step, or a loose railing. Our journey isn’t easy and each success is hard-earned, one stair at a time.

Read more over at The Village Magazine. 

Surrendering the Laundry

The buzzer on the dryer sounds, it's time to make a decision. Do I let the clothes sit until nap time or do I save them from their wrinkled fate? Leaving them makes me twitchy, so I go for it. Right on cue, my little helper runs in to help me “pack”. I feel myself tense up, but take a deep breath and say, "Sure buddy, let's pack!"

I think of myself as a go-with-the-flow kind of mom, but if you start messing with my laundry, the control freak comes out. I always separate clothes by color, I remain aware of certain items that cannot go in the dryer, and wrinkled clothes are not acceptable. I usually don’t have time to fold immediately, but I do lay the clothes flat so by the time I get to them they’re not a crumpled mess. 

Having a two year old who thinks doing laundry is the best thing next to goldfish crackers doesn’t really mesh with my laundry plans. M doesn't have the patience to wait for my lay flat technique or the fine motor skills to accomplish it. For him it’s a win if he gets a piece in the basket.

Read more over at The Village Magazine. 

Rediscovering Imagination

I got a new desk a few weeks ago and besides the desk in the box there were also several pieces of heavy-duty cardboard. These pieces soon became M’s new favorite toys, and unlike some toys that only keep his attention for a day or two he’s still playing with them today.

What is it about a boring, brown chunk of pressed paper that can replace an entire room full of toys?

The answer is simple: the magic of imagination.

The cardboard is a blank canvas that he can make into anything his little mind dreams up. It’s been used as a tunnel for trucks, a climbing wall, a boat, and a trailer to haul his tractor. He’s built towers that get knocked down over and over. Just jumping up and down on a piece is enough to throw him into a fit of giggles.

When was the last time I looked at cardboard as anything other than something that needs to be hauled out to the recycle? When was the last time I really used my imagination?

Imagination and I used to be inseparable. 

Reading was our meeting place and we could burn through a book or two a day, escaping into whatever world the author had created for us. We would be on the prairie with Laura Ingalls one day and on a train with the Boxcar Children the next. She helped me draw, paint and glue together construction paper and Popsicle stick dreams. Imagination took me by the hand as we skipped out to the playhouse and made sand pies and hose-water tea for our guests. Up in my room she was there with the Barbies as they prepared for the pageant.  

Then college, work, and the Internet happened and imagination got buried beneath the unimaginative demands of adult life, but I’m attempting to uncover her. Watching my son discover his imagination makes me want to be back in that place where she and I were best friends. He’s helping me do this every time he sits down to play with play dough and he wants me to make a cat, or when he takes his truck to papa’s farm, or when he transforms that cardboard into a race track.

I’m coaxing out my grown-up imagination by doing this thing called writing, something I had shut down long ago because…I don’t really know why now. I guess it was a lack of confidence and belief in both myself and her. Back in June she was gently nudging me when I signed up for the writing workshop and I think she plans on sticking around. Sometimes she happily comes out to play, other times require a little bribing. I’m trying to read more like I used to and find imagination in other creative outlets. When I’m doing a DIY project, journaling, even baking, I can feel her with me.

Thank you M, and the box full of cardboard, for reminding me that imagination was always there, I just needed to let her back in. 

Bringing in the Boat

Last weekend Ryan and I got a little crazy and instead of our usual Saturday of taking M to the pool or the beach, we dropped him off at the babysitter and went kayaking. We decided to try out the double kayak because what’s more romantic than sharing a tiny plastic boat that you have to self-propel down the river? This was our first go at this kind of adventure and it actually went pretty well. It took a few minutes to get into a rhythm and for the strokes of our paddles to sync up, but pretty soon we were happily moving along with the current.

The part of the river we floated along runs through town and is lined by big houses and fancy boats. I bet we could afford that one, I said, pointing to the one house that was smaller than the yacht out front. (Those people probably live in the yacht and use the house for guests.) We kept an eye out for dolphins and manatees but only saw a few turtles poke their little heads up and then swim away into the dark water as we approached. When we came up on two buoys we pretended we were on an Olympic kayak slalom course. Let’s just say we would not have won the gold.

There is a public dock at the point where we had planned on turning around and we needed to stretch our legs (ok, who are we kidding it had been forty-five minutes and I had to pee) so we made our first attempt at docking. Docking in a kayak is harder than it looks. I mean, you watch someone do it in the movies and you think, that’s no big deal. Well, it is a big deal. We went in at the wrong angle, didn’t coordinate our paddling and steering, and instead of smoothing sliding up next to the dock, it was more of a crash and bang kind of deal.

After our brief stop we head back, against the current this time, which took a bit of effort. (If I had it my way we’d just switch the current back the other way and keep on floatin.) When there was an especially strong section we both had to dig in extra deep to get through. A few times one of us had to rest and the other kept paddling to keep us moving. As we approached the dock this time we planned out our attack and successfully pulled in without even tapping the side.

Later we joked that if we had done something like this earlier in our marriage, one of us would have been in tears and one of us would have been swimming back to the dock. (You can guess who’s who.) We laughed, but the more I thought about it the more I realized it’s probably true.

During the first years of our marriage there wasn’t a lot of teamwork. We were still too self-focused and we both wanted to control the boat at the same time. When the current got too strong we got scared and weak. We didn’t want to pick up the other’s slack and we didn’t care to change for each other. We were crash banging our way into the docks of life.

Our kayak was getting worn out and it was either bail or start working together. Over time and many, many attempts our ride is getting smoother. We’ve learned to share control. Sometimes Ryan needs to take over but now and then I have to take the paddle and keep us moving. Stretches of strong currents only make us stronger as we work through them. Now we can adjust and adapt to each other’s changes instead of fighting them and when we’re approaching a dock we plan ahead to successfully bring the boat in.

Of course some of our trips are still bumpy, but at least no one is being thrown overboard.