Hot Air Balloon Parenting

     This morning as I was getting ready for Mass, I heard Mike come back inside from taking out the trash, whispering to the three bigger kids, "Kids, come here, quick!  You have to see something!"  I could read the enthusiasm in his voice and understood that he was trying not to wake the baby at the same time.  I came running, eye pencil in hand, eager to see the deer or the caterpillar or whatever it was that was clearly going to delight a trio of young 'uns.  We made it to the driveway, sock-footed and gazed up at a low-flying, very colorful hot air balloon!  The kids waved and hollered, "Hello up there!"  And to our delight, they waved and yelled back, "Hello!"  They could see us enjoying them, and it was clear they were pleased to see the children so tickled by their flight.  And we savored the moment.  Mike and I smiled at each other and smiled at the kids, and no one rushed them back inside to hurry and get dressed or get somewhere.  We breathed it into our lungs and lived it, and I'm quite certain we just made memories for a two year old, a five year old, and a six (and three-quarters) year old.
     And that's when I realized that that is all that I'm supposed to be doing.  I think as moms, we constantly second guess if we are offering our kids enough opportunities.  All of my friends' daughters are taking music lessons and are in girl scouts and are doing cool, fabulous things with their daughters' hair and are teaching them to balance their own budget by organizing chore charts and teaching them the envelope system and certainly she should be fluent in Spanish by now and probably know where all of the countries in Europe are on a map...and...and...  And I have to say, I blame Facebook.
     I'm only sort of kidding.  Here's the deal. Not one of my friends is doing all of those things.  No, but 267 of them are doing one of those activities.  I can't compete with 267 moms.  And I don't want to. I want to offer my children a rich childhood full of playful, loving memories.  I want to start Hot Air Balloon Parenting. 
   My new litmus test for whether or not to spend my time on something will be to ask the question:  Does this pass the hot air balloon test?  That is, does this experience create memories for my child that are meaningful and create connections with other human beings or with their creator?  When it comes down to it, whether they can speak multiple languages, list the capitals of all of the states, perform in front of a crowd, or list a resume full of activities they spent doing...it all just doesn't amount to a hill of beans when they are adults.  What amounts to a mountain range though is whether they felt love and learned to show love to others.  Did they feel that their parents took the time to listen to them when they wanted to talk?  Did they feel that they got to PLAY every day or did they just feel that they were rushed from one thing to the next?  Do they remember sitting down and just cuddling?  Will they nourish their own children with loving relationships because they had it so well modeled for them?  These are the questions that matter!  It's childhood after all.  I'm responsible for training kind human beings, not adults who rush from one thing to the next, only pausing to shoot a photo to post on Facebook to validate all of the rushing. 
   And so I'm committing to less comparison parenting and more openness to those hot air balloon moments.  That's not to say that there won't be days when we do have to rush somewhere.  Parents do have to teach responsibility and all that life will require of them.  But that part of parenting comes more naturally to me.  For now, what I feel called to focus on working on is these sweet moments.  They are fleeting.  If I'm always looking down at my phone, I'll miss what magical moments are floating overhead.  So, that's my challenge to myself:  openness and awareness of those magical moments before they float right by. 
      

Notes from a Know-It-All Mom

I'm an insecure person by nature.  I'm quite sure that all of my mom friends are feeding their kids better, teaching them more, and disciplining them more effectively than I am.  But every once in a while, I figure out a system that works for some aspect of parenting and I get really excited to share it with everyone I know...so that I look like a more fabulous parent than I am during the embarrassing number of T.V.-watching hours of the day.  (Guess what two are doing while I blog right now).  So, as I share these tips and tricks, please don't think I'm being a know it all. I'm simply being a know a tiny bit.  Please feel free to share your own tricks, too.  I'm realizing that parenting has a whole lot to do with magic at times than anything else. 

Clean-Up Game
I've figured out that turning anything into a game gets my kids motivated way faster than threats of punishment or any other method.  That cute little clean-up song that seems to work for Kindergarten teachers has no power over my children.  I had to get more creative.  I have to give my mom credit for this one actually.  She's a genius.  We say, "Riddlee riddlee ree...I see something you don't see...and the color of it is...green!"  I assign that color to one kid and he or she finds an object that color.  Sometimes it takes some time to get a really messy room cleaned up this way, but it keeps their attention and makes it fun!

Cart/Stroller Game
When we're maneuvering through stores or parking lots, I'm always amazed at what poor spatial abilities my sweet ones have.  Celia and Mikey always hold onto either side of Xavier's stroller, but when we're trying to squeeze between cars or through a tight spot in a store, they just assume the world will morph around them and allow them to fit.  So, while at Kohl's recently, waiting for Mike to order 10 million picture frames from their supposedly customer-friendly kiosk, we invented a game called Formation-Wings.  When I need them to get into single file, Celia first, Mikey second stroller third, I command, "Formation!"  They line up.  Once we're through, I say, "Wings!"  and they grab ahold of the stroller again (sometimes sticking out their arms like airplane wings).  They think it's funny, and we stay out of people's way...at least a little bit.

Music in the Car Trade Game
For awhile, we were having an issue with Celia wanting whatever Mikey had in the car and vice versa.  It could be a dirty napkin he was playing with, but if she didn't have one, she'd whine until I was ready to pull the car over and use a street sign as a time-out corner.  So, we came up with a "solution to the problem," one of my kids' favorite catch phrases now.  We always have on kids' music in the car--Tangled, Laurie Berkner, Backyardigans, you name it, we've got it!  So, at the end of each song, they'd trade whatever the desired object might be.  Sometimes, they do it without my prompting.  They just come up with the idea on their own.  Happy mommy!  Speaking of CDs in the car...lately we've been having issues with who gets to pick the music, leaving mommy scrambling to find CDs while driving...totally unsafe and ridiculous.  So now, before we leave the garage, a store, wherever we are, we take turns and choose a new CD.  My happiest moment lately was when Mikey chose Tangled, Celia's obsession.  She was delighted and said, "Mikey, I love that CD!"  Mikey replied, "I know, Celia.  I just wanted to make you happy."

OK, I hear that their show is ending.  I'll have to continue this blog post at a later date.  I'd love to hear some of your tricks of the trade, too!

We're All God's Special Needs Kids

So, going through the whole Autism assessment process with Mikey since he was 18 months old and trying to figure out what issues he has or might have in the future really gave me a glimpse into the world of families with special needs kids and how it completely transforms a parent's concept of parenthood.  Currently, Mikey is not diagnosed with anything but he certainly has a few interesting quirks that might or might not end up being Aspergers.  When we first thought he might be diagnosed as being on the Autism Spectrum, we were heartbroken for what that would mean for his future relationships or lack thereof.  But it also was heartbreaking to think that certain dreams and hopes that Mike and I had as parents of a boy might never come true.  What if he had no interest in team sports because he was socially unable to cope and therefore never played Little League?  What if he just couldn't function at birthday parties because they were too loud and overwhelming?  There were lots of unanswered questions and still are, really.  But what I realize now that he's age four and doing remarkably well, is that a lot of those fears were about what I wanted to receive out of parenting.  I wanted hugs and cute photos and fun memories for me.  Having this issue arise so early in our parenting adventure helped me to really see how selfish I was being and how raising children is totally and completely about giving of yourself at every turn.  And as a bonus, sometimes, you get rewarded with awesome moments, but they can't be the focus of the process.  By the way, one of the little, no wait, major bonuses I got just the other day was this scene:

Mikey:  Mommy, I have a surprise for you!

Mommy:  Oh yeah, where is it?  (Looking for a sticker or picture)

Mikey:  It's a big hug!

He wrapped his arms as far around my big midsection as he could and squeezed.  That was something a few years ago, I never would have thought would happen, but that kind of sweetness goes on all of the time now.  At age three when he was melting down for a half hour every day with temper tantrums, I thought I just couldn't handle a kid with this kind of emotional make-up, but now, he rarely even whines.  He obeys me beautifully...most of the time...I mean...he is human and he is only four!  But he's the one who I ask to go find me things when I need a helper.  He's the one who goes in to check on the baby for me when I ask him to after naptime.  He's the one who has to hold my hand walking from the car to a parking lot because he "loves me too much." 

All of this has me thinking about what it is God wants parents to learn about Him through this roller coaster ride of child rearing.  There are powerful lessons that He has hidden in every moment of the day if we'll just listen to those whispers, but I feel like parents with kids with any kind of special need get a little more than a whisper, some like my amazing aunt and uncle with a daughter who has never been able to walk or talk and have shown her the most amazing love and dignity her whole life...those kinds of strong, beautiful parents get shouts of God's love every time they look at their child who is completely lovely in His sight.

So, what could God be whispering, saying, shouting?  I think He's trying to tell us that despite our quirks, our inabilities to do what He, our parent tells us, our tendancy to want our own way, to break down into temper tantrums when we can't handle the simplest stress...that He is going to love us and take care of us anyway.  He's not going anywhere even when He feels like pulling the van over and giving us a time out on the side of the road.  And oh, He does that sometimes, too!  God has had to teach me the same lessons over and over and over again, and I'm sure He's thinking to Himself, "I JUST TOLD YOU...DON'T YOU LISTEN?!"  But He teaches and reteaches with patience because He knows that we're not perfect.  We have special needs, too.  And yet we're made with infinite possibilities to learn and grow and become better.  Just as I've seen miraculous growth in Mikey's social skills over the past  year, I know that I have the potential to surprise God with growth in areas that He's got every right to have grown exasperated with me in. 

When I think of Mikey's major issue all along, lack of eye contact and object focus, and the number of times I've tried every trick in the book just to get him to look at me, it makes me stop and think.  Parents want their children to look at them, to turn to them, to focus on them, if even for a little bit each day.  But it means so much to look to someone when talking and to really give them your full attention.  Mikey has a good reason, I suppose, for having a tough time shifting his gaze to match mine...something in his chemistry.  I don't have that excuse, so how discouraging must it be for my Father to try and try to get me to look to Him and I just keep turning away, distracted by things.  I fall asleep many nights thinking, "I should read my Bible or something to meditate on...too tired...I'll just think of a verse...."  and every night that I do that, the verse that is in my head as I refuse to open my Bible is "Seek ye first the kingdom of God."  He's whispering to me to look at him, and I, like a child with ASD keep my head turned away.  I can do better.  I have the inspiration of a little guy who has struggled to look me in the eye for years, but who now tells the most horrible knock-knock jokes in the world to me...all the time staring me in the face to see if I'll laugh.  Yeah, I can do better.

What an inspiration it is to watch our children grow!  Special needs or regular needs, we're all God's children who He'll nurture and not give up on. 

Why I Should Have Been Born in Spain

I used to read novels for fun.  That was before having kids.  There were a lot of things I used to do for fun that I have given up for lack of time and energy since having kids.  I'm truly OK with most of them.  I don't miss certain things all that much, and I certainly wouldn't trade any one of the children for the ability to go to a bookstore, drink a latte, and browse the bargain books.  I've given up the ability to go take a jog any time of the day I might like, but again, they're all just way too cute to trade in for a svelt physique.  Having three littles and another on the way means that it's a rarity when I can just spend an afternoon shopping for clothing bargains.  If I'm going to go shopping now, I'd much prefer going to Ann Taylor Loft and spend $25 on a pair of quality shorts I know I will wear the heck out of, instead of spending hours at Marshalls rooting for bargains and getting five pairs of shorts for the same price. Anyway, the point is there are certain lifestyle changes I've chosen to make, been forced to make, or am too exhausted not to make, and it's really OK. 

One lifestyle change I have not given up is my afternoon nap...and I'm going to finally publicly say here and now...I'M NOT SORRY!  It doesn't seem to matter how restful or crazy my morning is or whether I'm pregnant or not, I need a nap at 1:00 or so.  Sometimes just 20 minutes will get me through the rest of the day, but if I miss that nap, I go from Donna Reed to Mommy Dearest...well, let's not overstate things...while I don't prefer wire hangers, I'll let that slide.  My point is that I feel rotten and much less patient if I'm not given a chance to recharge. 

I've spent a number of years rather sheepish about the fact that I need an afternoon nap.  I mean, I'm not a child.  I get a good night's sleep most nights.  I take my multivitamin, am not addicted to drugs or alcohol, and eat fairly healthy.  And I need a nap.  I should have been born in Spain where everyone has a little siesta time and no one judges anyone for taking the break.  I'm lucky now because Xavier's nap jives with mine, and the big kids are really good at entertaining each other, so they usually leave me alone.  Usually.  Sometimes, my bedroom becomes Mater's car wash or Madeline's school.  But the kids quickly move on when Mommy groans her distaste for their choice of play venue.  Sometimes, I just spoon with the kids on the couch while they watch a show or two.  I've gotten really good at sleeping through Pocoyo.  Something about that British narrator's voice is very soothing.  And Mikey makes an amazingly cuddly teddy bear for such a skinny little fart.  I used to be a much lighter sleeper, needing absolute quiet to sleep, but things change with three little ones in the house.  Today, the kids were playing in the living room while Mike hung up ten pictures on the wall in the breakfast nook.  In our new open-concept house, that's all the same room really.  I crashed on the couch for a second...just a second...I heard him hammer in maybe three nails.  And then I must've blacked out.  When he woke me because he had to leave, I realized he had hung all of the pictures, the baby had gotten up, and for all I knew a tornado had taken off the roof.  I wasn't sure where I was...maybe Oz?  There were munchkins.  Yes, it could be Oz.  Is that a lollipop from the lollipop guild stuck in my hair?  Yes, it must be Oz.  Sigh, I finally figured out where I was just in time to be in charge of all three of them.  Luckily, I was well rested and ready to go.

So, yeah, if you call me between 1 and 3, there's a chance that I could answer the phone sounding like you woke me up...because you probably did.  I used to act embarrassed and say, "Oh, no, I was just lying down to rest for a minute," but now that I've made it so public, I'm going to let you know what dream you interrupted.  ;) 

Vote for Me: My Mommy Platform

I've decided that none of these guys running for office really represent the issues that I care about.  I mean, yes, yes, we need to take care of the whole Middle East war situation.  (I truly believe that if they just sent a mom of preschoolers over there, she could help them resolve the conflict.  We're the most practiced in conflict resolution.  I spend about 63.25 percent of my day saying things like, "Can you think of a solution that will make you both happy?"  And they come up with remarkably clever solutions).  And yes, yes, the economy needs more than just a little attention. (Again, mothers are uniquely equipped to handle that, too.  Who else can make the last $5 last an extra five days before pay day?  While most would look into my fridge or pantry and see no prospects for dinner, I can create masterpieces out of slightly stale bread, a few eggs, and the spice rack). But come on, on a day-to-day basis, I'm worried about other things.  If you are, too, then consider casting your vote for me in November!  Here's my platform:

-Teachers will no longer be permitted to reward children for good behavior with trinkets, nor will other parents be permitted to disperse similar trinkets to children at birthday parties.  If they persist, they must create a way to use these choking hazards, tripping hazards, and clutter into an alternative energy source.

-Makers of children's television programs who use high-pitched or goofy voices must cease and desist.  There is no reason Elmo couldn't teach letters, shapes, and numbers and sound like Colin Firth.  PBS, if you want government money, make it happen.

-Girl Scouts must begin selling their cookies after Lent.  Really, come now, girls.  Too much government?  Too much temptation, I say.

-Clothing makers will be given tax incentives to create a stylish, chic, flattering, dressy yoga pant.  We have the technology, ladies.

-A public service campaign will promote the sexy attributes of the minivan.  Sienna, you had me at Swagger Wagon.

-A new federal agency will be created, NAN (Nannies as Needed) and will provide child care on an as-needed basis.  Needs include:  a latte, a ballet flat, an emergency pre-menstrual organization of a closet.

-And last but not least...what you all have been waiting for...tummy tucks will become illegal.  An appreciation for the post-pregnancy belly pooch will spread nationwide.  Flat-bellied models, enjoy a thin mint or two.  And vote for me!

Confessions of a Guilty Mom Conscience

I recently saw a quote somewhere that I posted on Facebook that said something like the reason that we can become insecure is that we compare our private moments to the moments that others make public.  So, if I compare my DiGiorno pizza nights to the gourmet meal that you made once this year and mentioned on Facebook, I become insecure thinking that all I ever serve my family is processed frozen foods, while you are introducing your children to arugula, and they love it!  What I don't know is that you made mac and cheese from a box six out of the last seven days and the only thing close to a vegetable your child has eaten in the last month was some string cheese that had turned green in her lunchbox.  Now that would help my self-esteem!  More status updates about that, please!

So, because I love you all very much and want to make sure that you feel good about yourselves, here are some honest mothering moments that I'd like to openly confess here. 

When no one is looking, I let my kids eat things that fell on the floor.  Come on, they drop half of their lunch.  I can't afford to throw all of that away.

Xavier's diapers leak more than I'd like to admit.  I change his sheets and pants maaaaybe 25% of the time when that happens.  Maaaybe.

Sometimes, the kids have dessert after lunch.  Sometimes, Mike offers to take them off my hands to the ice cream store after that happens when he doesn't know that they've already partaken of said treat.  Sometimes, I just fail to mention it.  Soometimes, I do tell him, and we agree to do it anyway. 

The kids still sleep with sippy cups in their beds with water.  How often do those have to be washed?  It IS just water after all.

I laugh when my kids fart.

I give Xavier Cheerios about 18 times a day (only slight exaggeration) to contain him, entertain him, or calm him down.  Those cheeks and thighs don't maintain themselves.

When the baby naps, I regularly turn on Pocoyo and take a nap on the couch while it plays.  Pocoyo is surprisingly soothing and easy to fall asleep to.  On days when I don't turn the T.V. on, (I miss its glow) and feel compelled to brag about it...'cause it's pretty darn rare.

I bribe my children more often than I'd like to admit to behave at Target by buying them junk from the dollar section.  If I had just saved up all of those dollars, I'm sure I could make a decent dent in the national debt.

My two minute warnings turn into twenty if I get into a good conversation with another mom.  A two minute warning can also actually be thirty seconds if I'm in a hurry. 

Oh, and I REALLY laugh when the kids fart in the bathtub.

I'm sure I could go on and on, but I'm starting to feel insecure about deciding to make these confessions in the first place.  I'd be very pleased if you'd post a confession or two of your own and help improve my self-image.

Tooth Fairy Tales

I took Celia to the dentist for the first time today, and she cried and only got half of her teeth cleaned.  She stayed and watched the hygienist torture her mother for another half hour after that.  Apparently, they have all kinds of new high-tech tools since I last visited a year ago.  One of them shoots water onto your teeth and gums at a speed that I'm quite sure would remove paint from my car.  I hoped that Celia didn't notice me clenching my hands together ever more tightly as the sweet, young hygienist educated my daughter all about oral health.  I totally appreciated the way she took the time to teach her so much and to just entertain her by asking her questions about her brothers, pet, favorite color, and other inane things that five year olds enjoy sharing.  But I kept thinking, "Does this 12 year old know what she's doing?  Is she looking at my cute little girl or at my gums which feel like they've been tazed?  Should I tell her that I have a high tolerance for pain, but she's pushing the limits or should I endure quietly so as not to give my already frightened daughter more fuel for not returning to the dentist than she already has?"  I opted to tough it out, offer it up, and hope that Celia would think that Mr. Thirsty looked super awesome draped over my right cheek slurping up my drool.

I was so pleased yesterday that I had finally gotten Celia feeling comfortable about going to the dentist.  All she had to do was let the nice lady brush her teeth and let the dentist count them.  We'd read the Dora book over and over.  She knew the names of all of the tools.  She was set.  Oh, and the treasure box was a lovely bit of motivation that our lovely dentist's office has built in.  But something happened when she sat down in that moving chair.  She panicked.  Her tiny little body, wrapped in stripy leggings, cute red sunglasses propped up on her nose so the light wouldn't be too bright in her eyes, she just cracked.  We talked her into letting the nice lady brush one tooth, but that toothbrush didn't look anything like her awesome Barbie light-up brush at home.  And the bubble gum toothpaste?  Not a big selling point for a little girl who has never been allowed to chew gum because...um...duh..it's BAD FOR YOUR TEETH!  She was scared to death of the bubble gum toothpaste.  But she overcame her fear for a moment while the hygienist polished her bottom teeth.  Then Mr. Thirsty came out.  Mr. Thirsty...cute name, right?  That's what my dentist called it when I was little.  This sweet hygienist...who is 12, I'm sure of it...called it Mr. Suction.  Really?  REALLY?  Not so friendly.  It wouldn't have mattered.  She was already climbing out of the chair, which was tricky to do, since she was on top of me.  That's right...I was lying there under her for all of this nonsense.  Where were my super cool sunglasses?  That light IS bright!  Anyway, after lots of reassurances and more tears, we abandoned all hope that her top teeth would be polished this trip.  She was way too upset. The dentist was fantastic, just using his eyes to count her teeth.  She was OK with that.  He even managed to put the little mirror into her mouth to see the top ones.  He was so gentle and kind.  He reported that he saw no cavities.  I guess he could tell by just looking. And 99 bucks later, she has a half clean mouth and a new toothbrush.

So, my question is, how do I convince her to go back in six months and not be freaked out?  I mean, she knows what they're going to do.  And holy cow...if she ever has a cavity, I can't tell her that it's not going to be scary or hurt at all.  Getting a filling freaks my freak, too!  There are so many things that she's scared of that are really just silly.  I can get her past being nervous about a scary guy in a movie.  "It's just an actor in make-up.  Just pretend.  No, he's not in the world."  But then she follows up with questions like, "Are there real bad guys in the world?"  And so I have to tell the truth, right?  The truth will set you free?  Honesty is the best policy.  What a tangled web and all that.  But I can give her the truth with a spoonful of mommy love and reassurance, right?  "Yes, there are some people in the world who do bad things, but you are very safe in this house.  You have nothing to worry about here.  Mommy and Daddy will keep you safe."  And she smiles sweetly and relaxes into my arms.

But what about this whole growing up business?  She has to get shots sometimes.  And she'll have to go back to the dentist who now uses a pressure washer on people's gums!  And she'll have to endure mean girls at school one day.  And one day someone she loves will get terribly sick.  I'm so very in love with all three of my babies.  The thought of them being scared or hurt just devastates me.  But that's part of my job now, isn't it?  It's my job not to avoid those times but to coach them through those moments.  Not to excuse them from participating but teaching them to patiently endure for the good outcome on the other side of it. 

"More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope."  (Romans 5:3-4)  I want my children to be people of good character, people with hope.  And I am pretty sure that doesn't happen without overcoming adversity first.  The dentist's chair is just one step in a lifetime of tough obstacles to overcome, both for Celia and her mama.  But with God's help, we'll learn together to brave the scary dental tools...and the mean girls in school...and whatever else life has in store for us.  I'll tell ya, that girl is quite the character already, but I can't wait to see what kind of amazing woman of character she becomes.  Even if she is a woman of character with some pretty scuzzy teeth.