Some Kind of Mother

We spent yet another long, harrowing day at the doctor's office yesterday. Although Julia got the clean bill of health day before last, she nearly blacked-out on her class field trip. So, it was back to the waiting room. Petrified that something might really be wrong, I was feeling rather heightened, on top of being totally frazzled from week we've had around here. I wasn't the only one beginning to crack under the pressure. Iris was still feverish herself (being 3 days behind her sister with the virus), over-over-tired, cranky, and hungry. You're recognizing the potential in this ugly combination,I know you are.

As I sat there waiting, Julia quiet and peaked next to me, Iris was running circles around us, shrieking and whining and climbing and jumping around the germ infested sick ward barefoot (because she was insistent that her shoes were "bawvering" her and wouldn't let it go until I surrendered and let her take them off). I was on the verge of tears, head in my hands, at a breaking point. Suddenly, I had this overwhelming awareness that I was THE MOM that everyone was staring at. I was the mom that I used to stare at. Seriously, who lets their child run around a medical building barefoot? WHO? Certainly not me. At least not until I had Iris. So, there I was, being judged by the moms who held their sick babies close, who had shoes on their kids feet, whose children weren't yelling and whining and climbing and jumping. But worst of all, I was being judged my myself. What the hell kind of Mother have I become?

As I think on it now, I know what kind of mother I am, even when I'm at my worst and I'm embarrassed about my parenting choices. I'm the same mom I've been since my first daughter was born eight years ago;

one that will rock her babies to sleep at 3 months or 3 years,
one that nursed them despite the pain and pumped despite the inconvenience,
one that's unphased by poop, pee, spit up or throw up (no matter where it is)
one that never tires of art projects, tea parties, blocks, books, trains sets, dress up (and even when she does, she still does her best to play),
one that teaches her children to value and respect life because everyday is a gift,
one that loves her children more than life, even when things seem at their worst,
one that's willing to go to any length when her children need her,
and one that will sit for hours on end in the waiting room to be sure her daughter is OK.
That's the kind of mother I am.

And hopefully, I'm also the mother that is just a little more accepting of the moms who take their kids out with crazy, matted bed-head, with mismatched socks, and dirt on their face. Or the moms that have to leave their full shopping cart at the store because a tantrum forced them to, or those who get their kids junk food at the Target snack bar to buy themselves a little time to shop. I strive to be that kind of mother now. And, I hope I remember to offer a reassuring smile and nod to the mothers out there like me, who try everyday to do their best a maybe do it a little better than the day before with more tolerance, more patience, more love and more forgiveness.

If the Shoe Fits

Since I've begun to blog I have been tempted to share a million stories of Iris in all her "spirited" glory but have been a little afraid that if I begin to express my concern, frustration, up-in-armsness with her, I may not be able to stop. Or perhaps I may even perpetuate her behavior which is quite often, less than desirable by verbally labeling her as "difficult". Too late. Since she was a wee one we've come up with all sorts of nicknames that have, without a doubt put her in the "challenging child" category. Things like, "Cryris" or "Sybil" (she is a Gemini after all), "Pistol" or "Pill". Nice, huh? With each passing day she comes up with noteworthy, flat out negative ways of acting that are disconcerting sure, but also friggin' funny, when I can hang on to my sense of humor.

Yesterday, at the doctor's office we we're waiting for the results of Julia's chest X-ray (she's clear! no pneumonia!) during what ended up being over an hour visit. We were all ready to melt down so I pulled out my fine conversation skills and began to at least try to engage the girls in question/answer time. We we're pondering what we wanted to be when we grow up. For the sole reason that Iris seemed totally into Julia's check up ("Take myyyy temperature!", "Look in myyyy ears!", "Where's myyyy doctor?") she asked her,

"Iris, do you want to be a doctor when you grow up?"

Iris, "NO!"

Me, "Do you want to be a...photographer?"

Iris, "NO!

Me, "How about an artist?"

Iris, "NO!"

Me, "Well, what do you want to be?"

Iris, "A meanist!" (snarrrrrl)

OK then, it's settled, a Meanist it is. Can you get a degree in that?

The last few days have been strange and somber. Both girls have been sick (house-bound, no school, lethargic, high-fever sick) with what the doctors are still calling just a virus (we can only hope). And if that isn't tough enough, we had to put our lovely cat Pearl to sleep. Sad sad stuff. So, in honor of our three-legged, hyper-loud, sweet as anything, 16- year- old furry family member, I will post a pic. It's one of her enjoying the backyard of our old home when she was still well enough to spend her time doing just that.

The house has been really quiet without her ( she was VERY vocal) and we miss her terribly. Love to you, Pearly Girl.

That's what I'm talkin' about.

Time is escaping me as always, but before my "gig" comes and goes I want to at least make mention of it. I am speaking at a "Mom's Morning Out" at Once Upon A Story THIS Wednesday from like 9:30-11am or so. I'll be chatting about stuff like documenting life with your children (journaling, photographs, keepsakes, etc.) and will use my books as a reference, of course. Although they are written for expectant and new moms, much of what I'll cover can easily transfer over into life with older children as well.

I would adore it if any of you local readers could come. You are out there, aren't you? Anyway, it's a lovely children's bookstore, chock-full of cool stuff and I'm looking forward to spending the morning there. Kids are welcome but it's YOUR time so if you want to come solo or with a friend, go for it!

A plea to the Mothas-

Check out this site pronto. It's called MomsRising and it's all that! Usually when I come across stuff like this I immediately mumble something cruel to myself like, "Why don't you get off your butt and do something this important Tracey?". But once I snap out of my self-loathing routine, I know that what these sites and the women with the guts, the strength, and the moxie to drive them really do is inspire me. With resources like this at the click of a mouse, we can more readily get involved and make a difference in the issues that really count. Bravo MomsRising!

And while you're there be sure to read my piece called Potty Break featured in this month's Neighborhood stories.

As if it's not enough that the most frequently used word in my vocabulary is "blog" these days, I've had to drag my family along. I really should get a life.

Last night we went to eat at a local Sushi Bar. Iris (a mere 2) pours a handful of etamames (sp?) into her mini-bowl, tears open her chopsticks, positions them in her hand like she knows what she's doing, and starts chowing down these wet, slippery little soy beans USING HER CHOPSTICKS! No kidding. No guidance, no instruction, she just instinctually uses two sticks as eating utensils. Just like that. I was freaking out, of course, and whipped out me camera, of course, and started shooting pictures of my baby genius demonstrating her latest talent.

I caused a spectacle, of course, and in the midst of all the excitement, Julia (8) blurted out, "Mom, you can blog about this!" in one of her many lightbulb moments.

I don't know about you, but I think I've found myself a muse.

I'm IT! I'm IT! I have been tagged and I am IT IT IT! I feel all warm and mushy and so very loved by the blogosphere right now. Kay, so what I understand is that someone out there (namely sweatpantsmom) wants to know 6 interesting and/or strange things about me. Can you believe it? I'm giddy, like I'm getting ready for a first date or something. I know, enough already. Anyway, this thing I've been tagged to do is called a "meme" and truth be told, I have NO IDEA what it means or where it comes from but everyone's doin' it so who cares!
Here goes-

1. I have traveled across country in a VW bus TWICE. Once when I was 5 with my hippy parents and once when I was 23 with my hippy girlfriends. I can't remember much of the first go round but the second...TIME OF MY LIFE!

2. I cannot imagine having to live a day without strong coffee and my slippers.

3. I can eat my weight in M&Ms, peanut or plain (I'm not picky). I eat Ice Cream every night. Yes, I'm eating some now, so? Oh, and while we're talking vices, I'll add semi-sweet chocolate chips by-the-bagful to my list.

4. My grandfather is famous. He's a legendary Hot Rodder and has a big, beautiful coffee table book written about him and the whole bit. And he's alive and well enough to be basking in his fame. It's awesome to see. Just google him man, he's all over the place. Yes, he did play "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" on his Fender Stratocaster at a recent gala they held in his honor. The guys like 80 something. One things for sure, I got good genes on my side.

5. I love the Grateful Dead and will forever be a proud and faithful Dead Head. Enough said.

6. I use Lansinoh on my lips. Not to mention any cut or scrape or abrasion on myself or any other member of my family. Yes, I said Lansinoh, as in the best thing that ever happened to a nursing mother's chapped, cracked nipples. Secrets out.

There you have it. So now I get to tag people. Boy, this is cool. Um, well, most of the people that I know are reading this don't even blog (CHICKENS!) and to top that, they don't even bother registering so they can comment on my blog, thank so much. Sheesh. You so know who you are! I'll start by tagging my oldest and dearest friend (who is the crazy kid who got me into this thing in the first place) Claddyjack, and the sweet Noelle, and Amy who is all up in her livejournal world and Tante Myriam who is poised and ready to begin blogging but hasn't yet, and lastly Kirsten who is talking about diving in but won't and this my dear is your chance to go for it!!!!! Oh, and Kerri-Lynne, if I thought you read this, I'd tag you too but I don't think you do. Humph.
And I almost forgot Elisa at the new Momready blog. Yes, it's the same place Kristen is trying to score her i pod shuffle from. TAG!!!! (oops, that's more than 6-shucks)

Well, OK, that was fun.

Happy Easter.

Taxes done? Check.
Refund coming? Check. Check.
Exhausted? Most certainly. But, I will go on record to say that although I may be tired I am rested, if that makes any sense. I've had some girl time....sans kids. Which in my book is the best kind when you're talkin' a massive house in Palm Springs with 11 girlfriends, food enough to feed most of the free world and enough alcohol to fill the jacuzzi (no, we didn't get that crazy). Did I mention sunshine? Yep. A day at the La Quinta Resort with a hot friggin' rock massage to die for? Oh yes. A dance-off with the regulars the Arnold Palmer Bar where the average age is 65 and the skin is bronzed and baggy? You betcha. That last bit was right out of a SNL skit. These ladies were LITERALLY elbowing us off the dance floor. I wouldn't have believed it either if I hadn't witnessed it first hand. I've got the bruises to prove it. Did I take pictures and are they incriminating? Of course. BUUUUT, I'm afraid I'd be breaching the whole "what happens in _____ stays in ______ " thing. Plus, I REEEEEALLY want to be invited back so I'd best not be sharing.

Here's a little something just to show the intensity of the relaxation that was going on over the weekend. This was the view from the back patio where we enjoyed our cocktails. I guess I don't even have to say that I could get used to that kind of living.

Welp, I'm knee deep in paperwork of the IRS kind (yes, I am one of those tax procrastinators, but to my credit, I've never filed an extension-so there!) . Today I offer a hilarious link to a fantabulous post by the lovely, the talented, sweatpantsmom. Since I know for a fact that many of you, my faithful supporters, aren't super-bloggers (YET) I thought this post about the joy of the link would not only be entertaining but educational as well. Hers is the kind of creative blog writing I aspire to. Have fun clicking around!

I just got home from a wonderful morning of mommy camaraderie. Today's gathering at bookstore Once Upon a Story was a well needed breath of fresh air. A lovely space to be among other mothers, chatting about mom stuff, sipping coffee (and good coffee at that), snacking on scones-to-die-for (they were glazed or something heavenly like that) and just being in each other's good company. A change of scenery and a topic to discuss was a perfect way to spend a Wednesday morning.
Photographer/mom of twins/Montessori teacher(pre-twins) Stephanie Pullman shared some thoughts on ways to nurture our children's independence by encouraging them to "help" in daily tasks, specifically at mealtime. The message was simple and her ideas felt very doable. I like doable. Doable is good. It's amazing how hearing constructive tips from other mothers can open our eyes to some new strategies for daily living. What's more amazing is how much a little dose of 'moms meeting moms' time can leave us with such renewed energy.
One of the things that I really took to heart today is the idea that we call have the choice to wake up each day, take a deep breath and say, "today, I'm going to be a better of a mother than I was yesterday." It was just something Stephanie touched on and it's ringing in my ears. With children, there will always be days that feel like a race to the bed-time finish line...like we're sure we've been robbed of our last shred of sanity...like we'll never get out of this motherhood purgatory alive. For me, the mere reminder that I can at least begin each day with hope, love, patience, and the possibility that I can be the best mom I can be is good enough. Still buzzing from my morning, I'm embracing that. Or maybe it's just a glazed scone sugar high. Hm.

I have found myself eager to post something, anything almost everyday now but, as one can easily see, I am not able to execute. SO, I have come up with a new blog that will be compiled of mostly images. I have years and years worth of photographs that I have taken and I would love to share them. This new photo-blog (if you will-and I will) should make it easier for me to offer a little something everyday. That's the plan anyway.

Without further adieu, here it is, the way I see it.

I love the world of celebrity high jinks as much as the next guy. Trash mags and E Entertainment aren't below me. I keep up with the Bennifers and Brangelinas. I won't deny it. However, up until recently I haven't given much thought to Tom and Katie. Sure they're strange, big whoop. But a few days ago I heard about this "Vow of Silence" they have taken in regards to the birth of their soon-coming child. And now, I am officially FREAKED.

Any woman who has birthed a baby knows the deal. There is no controlling yourself, especially the primal screaming that goes hand in hand with pushing a 10 pounder out of our body through a pretty small hold. If there were an option to experience no pain, no stress, and no noise during birth, we'd do it. Duh.

Katie, you, my dear are in for the rudest awakening of your life.

I was inspired and highly amused with something I saw at Cool Mom Picks. It seems I'm not alone in my concern. Check out these Tees. PRICELESS.

Out of all this, I only hope for one thing, that after Katie gives birth, her Tom and L. Ron illusions are smashed to bits and she has the courage of Brooke Shields to blow the lid off this crap and tell it like it REALLY is. Come on Katie, you can do it.

SHOUT IT OUT!

I'm thinking, since it's almost one in the morning, I have no business posting anything right now. I've had a lot to say and no time to say it (such is life as a mom) but to leave my darling blog postless for days on end, it just doesn't feel right.


















So, I choose to leave you with this- a glimpse into my life's joy. Two impossibly amazing girls. And as I drift to sleep, there will be only gratitude.

Repeat after me (I think)...

There are days when I, like most of us, feel like a failure of a mother. Self defeating thoughts swirl around my head; I yell too much, let my kids fill up on "snacks", leave the TV on for one show too many, let my daughter walk through Target barefoot, cuss you know, that kind of stuff. And it always seems that our children like to parrot our behaviors back to us. Monkey see, monkey do is nothing new but it doesn't make it any less scary when it happens to you. When your child begins to acquire language, look out! I've heard all the profanities I've used spit right back at me since my daughter could talk. And she so loves to test out her new vocabulary when we're in public. Once at the photo lab, she looked straight in the eye of the 20-something at the register and said with gusto, "JEEESUS KWIIIEST". The girl stared back in horror (I can only hope she was more shocked than deeply offended by a toddler 'taking the lords name in vain') and I said without skipping a beat, "That's all me. Guess it's time to clean up my act?"

But on better days when I'm not PMSing, my girls are dreamy, and all is right with the world, hearing a little echo of my best mothering moments can stop me in my tracks and instantly remind me that I am a pretty good mom. On more mornings than not my youngest beckons me to her crib and greets me with, "Good morning Mom. It's a lovely day." I do say that, don't I? Be still my heart. When we were enjoying a picnic on our front lawn she looked up and said, "It's a perfect day for a picnic, isn't it?". I got weepy. And when we were driving home from a morning at the Aquarium, she said from the backseat, "I had a really nice time. That was a fun day." Aaaah. Those kinds of moments, when I see my kids being sincere and polite and above all expressing true gratitude for the simple things, I know that I'm doing something right.

I love to hear my daughters mimic one another, use expressions I use, communicate like their father, treat others with kindness, show compassion, and offer respect. I am blown away at what incredible people they are becoming and how somehow I have had a large part in that. It's a really reassuring feeling. Of course you know you must take the good with the bad. I mean, what kind of kid walks up to her mother (who has been on the computer way too long) and blurts out, "You're not my friend anymore Mom"? One with an older sister who has used that line on her a number of times. Monkey see monkey do.

Oh, how I love my monkeys.

"Mommy, what's a blog?"

This one goes out to my bewildered family and friends who are certain that this time, I have gone off the deep end. Let me being by stating that although blogging can be called many things, a cult is not one of them. If any of you bloggers are reading this and beg to differ, please post a comment and share with the viewers at home.

Now, back to the issue at hand, explaining to you all what a blog is. Since I have no smart and clever way of answering that question, and because I really still barely know myself, I am lifting an actual blogger's profile to do the splainin' for me. Ready? Here are the words of wisdom that sweatpants mom posted at her blog;

'So, this being my first blog, I asked someone what a blog was, anyway. He said it was a personal web page for vain people who mistakenly think that everybody on the planet gives a rats-ass about their business. And I’m all “Sign me up!”. '

Yep. Go ahead and start the line behind me. You know you want to.

There's a fantastic write up on my books on the Cool Mom Picks blog today. YAY!

A big sloppy kiss to Kristen for the rave review!

Chuck E. Cheese:

Where a kid can be a kid and a mom can get a beer.

Pictured here (from left to right) Chuck, Iris, my beer (see it there-near the steering wheel?) and myself in the Chuck E. Mobile. My oldest daughter (not pictured) was busy racking up tickets to get her choice of a top-of-the-line plastic prize.

We had a family friend down to visit for the weekend and while he and my husband were sipping Cabernet at a chic LA art opening, my daughters and I got our game on at the local Chuck E. Cheese’s. Where else can you go out in public and drink while your kids run crazy? That’s how my weekend began. And it ended with an early Sunday morning birthday romp at Pump It Up- Where a kid can jump around on gigantic jumpy things and a mom can too. Why the hell not? Thank God for pizza (again).

Always something exciting going on here! I can hardly wait to see what the week ahead holds! Here’s a hint…Monday Skate Night. Ooooooo. Aaaahhh.

Me & Tea

It just seems fitting.

Set design and photography by my daughter Iris.

TEAdium Time

What could be sweeter than the image of a mother and her daughter sitting down to tea? Nothing. Especially when the daughter is mine and she's adorably two, chatty and charming. The tea set is tiny and the tea is really apple juice while the accompanying snack is a little bowl of popcorn. Come on. It's too cute.

Now, what could be more tedious than a mother and her daughter sitting down for tea everyday, sometimes 2 times a day, sometimes 4? Nothing. Especially when the daughter is my cranky, demanding two-year-old. The tea set is tiny and therefore tips easily and is fumbled often while the snacks are teddy grahams or goldfish (again) that end up smashed to crumbs under the micro tea table I uncomfortably wedge my knees under, and end up all over the rest of the family room floor as well. Come on. Enough is enough.

Motherhood can be the crown of the most tedious state of being. And this is what continues to be really difficult for me. The monotony, the dullness, the routine, the tiresome tasks that never seem to end because if and when they do, they turn right around and beg to be redone, rewashed, re-cleaned, re-cooked, re-dressed...you get the point. I spoke to a mommy friend today and she confirmed that "on some days you can sit and enjoy the tedium and become one with it and on other days you just gotta get the hell out of the house." Can I get an Amen?

Well, I have not fled from my house today and have been contemplating Mother Tedium; recognizing her presence in my life, acknowledging her, and doing my damnedest to embrace her. Although with a definition like "the quality or state of being wearisome" well, let's just say she's not that easy of an old gal to appreciate.

I am reminded of The Guest House by Rumi.

"This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they're a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond."

I'm not sure I've ever really invited Tedium in (I'm pretty sure I haven't), but she's come anyway. Perhaps if she felt a little more welcomed, she wouldn't be so hard to live with.

Rest assured, the next time my daughter and I sit down to tea, I'll be setting the table for three.