Inner Critic

Do you have that piece of you that is such an internal nag? One that can be so cruel to yourself?

Mine is in rare form today. I can't pinpoint why but I'm certainly trying.

The good news is that I'm able to hear it from a new perspective. I can literally separate that voice from the rest of my thoughts and talk it down (mostly).

This is new.

It usually overtakes my mind and pushes me into some sort of despair.

I can promise it feels better this way. . .

Worry

I worry about my Peanuts so much.

Peanut One, especially.

He's having a tough time right now and doesn't have the words to tell me what is bothering him.

It feels like it is literally killing me to watch him go through this.

I want to fix it. I want to make it better. I want to make it go away.

What I realize is that I can't. Even if I could, something else would come up.

I need to merely be with him, let him know he's loved; care for him and let him know I'm here. I need to advocate when necessary, yet not step into everything. I need to relax and be a conscious parent instead of reacting and being a dazed parent.

It's hard.

Perchance to Dream

I've been out of sorts this week and semi-beating myself up about it.

What is going on?

Why are you so lacsadaisical?

What is wrong with you?

Are you ever going to get it together?

I can be pretty tough on myself. . .

None of the usual remedies were working. Exercise. . . journaling. . . talking. . . . Yesterday, at my wits end, I finally remembered that I took the red-eye back from California on Sunday night/Monday morning. I came home to the regular hullaballoo of getting the kids ready and to school. Each night this week one of the little peanuts has woken in the middle of the night (must note that J got up at least his share of the times, but regardless of who gets up with them, I'm up).

Last night no one awoke. I slept like a log.

I feel a lot better.

Sometimes I forget how important a good night's sleep is.

I had the pleasure of hearing Arianna Huffington speak at a conference I went to last week. She was engaging, inspiring and seemed like such a regular gal. I was surprised at the tact her talk took when she began espousing the virtue of sleep. In fact, she has created a sleep challenge and is calling sleep a feminist issue.

Give it a read. I'm thinking of signing up. What about you?

Time Passes

About a year ago I stopped writing on this blog. I had found myself worrying too much about who or who wasn't reading it. The words I wanted to write were so personal and raw at times that I didn't feel ready to broadcast to the world (or even to my family at times!). So I began writing more to entertain the readers I knew I had and this began to feel kind of beside the point. Since then I stopped my blogging and haven't visited these dusty halls in a while.

Today I was practicing mindfulness and 'Magical Reality' came back into my head. I want to write more. I want to share more. I think it is important for me to keep this train of thought going. Can I challenge myself to keep it personal, keep it real, keep it about learning and growing - not entertaining?

So I begin again. I'm going to try and push this forward in a way that is about personal growth and exploration. I commit to share my thoughts and feelings, what I'm trying, what I'm working on. I hope others will join me in this quest.

Let the Magic begin . . .

Thunder Road Lyrics

The screen door slams
Mary' dress waves
Like a vision she dances across the porch
As the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely
Hey that's me and I want you only
Don't turn me home againI just can't face myself alone again

Don't run back inside
Darling you know just what I'm here for
So you're scared and you're thinking
That maybe we ain't that young anymore
Show a little faith there's magic in the night
You ain't a beauty but hey you're alright
Oh and that's alright with me

You can hide 'neath your covers
And study your pain
Make crosses from your lovers
Throw roses in the rain
Waste your summer praying in vain
For a saviour to rise from these streets
Well now I'm no hero
That's understood
All the redemption I can offer girl
Is beneath this dirty hood
With a chance to make it good somehow
Hey what else can we do now ?

Except roll down the window
And let the wind blow
Back your hair
Well the night's busting open
These two lanes will take us anywhere
We got one last chance to make it real
To trade in these wings on some wheels
Climb in back
Heaven's waiting on down the tracks
Oh-oh come take my hand
We're riding out tonight to case the promised land
Oh-oh Thunder Road oh Thunder Road
Lying out there like a killer in the sun
Hey I know it's late we can make it if we run
Oh Thunder Road sit tight take hold
Thunder Road

Well I got this guitar
And I learned how to make it talk
And my car's out back
If you're ready to take that long walk
From your front porch to my front seat
The door's open but the ride it ain't free
And I know you're lonely
For words that I ain't spoken
But tonight we'll be free
All the promises'll be broken

There were ghosts in the eyes
Of all the boys you sent away
They haunt this dusty beach road
In the skeleton frames of burned out Chevrolets
They scream your name at night in the street
Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet
And in the lonely cool before dawn
You hear their engines roaring on
But when you get to the porch they're gone
On the wind so Mary climb in
It's town full of losers
And I'm pulling out of here to win

Thankfulness

Each night we say prayers with the Peanuts. After a few of the standards, I ask them to tell me what they are thankful for today. Peanut One has had a tough time lately naming anything and tends to look around his room and state whatever his eyes fall on.

I'm thankful for . . .

geckos,

pirates,

my rug. . .

This morning, after a Sunday of snow in Atlanta (on March 1, nonetheless!), I woke Peanut One with the news that school was cancelled.

He grinned, rolled over and mumbled something.

"What did you say, honey?"

"Thank you God!"

At least he has his priorities straight.

So True

I was playing with Peanut Two yesterday and seeing how many of her senses she knew.

I asked her what she saw with and she pointed to her eyes.

I asked her what she heard with and she pointed to her ears.

I asked her what she smelled with and she pointed to her nose.

I asked her what she felt with and she look at me with her question mark face.

She thought about it for a while.

Then she pointed to her heart.

So true. . .

Magical Obama

Every time I read about Obama's victory I am brought to tears.

Happy tears, that is (learned courtesy of Bea, a champion happy crier).

Others in my family (some of my favorite relatives are Republicans) may be crying sad tears.

Regardless, this is a monumental and historic moment.

J loves to listen to sports radio.

(Stick with me here, there is a connection)

Now the problem, well at least one of the problems, with sports radio is that when they are not talking sports they are typically ranting on and on . . .

. . . and on . . .

. . . and on . . .

. . . about some extremely conservative point of view.

Today I borrowed J's car and as the radio came on I heard an announcer talking about a young, African American girl and how moving it was for him to see her elation, pride and overall joy at seeing the first black man elected President. While Obama didn't receive his vote, he saw a silver lining in the results.

Today I read the paper and there was a quote from Clark Howard who said he, too, was brought to tears when hearing of the election results. He attributed it to growing up at the tail end of the most bitter time of the Civil Right Movement. While he disagrees with Obama on many fiscal matters, he is proud right now.

Today I dropped my son off at school and saw children still proudly wearing Obama t-shirts and pins. They won't ever vote in a Presidential election without this moment as a back-drop.

I can't put into words how incredible this is for the healing and shifting of racial issues in America.

While not the end, it is a tremendous step forward.

It feels like magic.

State of Mind

I've been a bit distracted and out of it lately.

I'm not sure what is going on, but it's seeping through my life.

Yesterday I went to Target with a list I made throughout the week prior.

I hustled, sped , slowly weaved my way through the store with Peanut Two in tow, glancing every few minutes at the next item on my list.

About half-way down, between toothpaste and diapers, I got to 'eggplant'.

I don't know what cryptic message I was trying to send myself.

Hopefully not, "yo, mama, you're losing your mind".

Marketing Genius

Peanut One struggled to understand the concept of Daylight Savings Time.

He pondered the oddness of this special day that made no sense at all to him )except that he got tons of praise from his weary parents for not waking up an hour early).

Finally, last night he asked me why we didn't have Daylight Savings Time decorations.

He decided we should make them: suns, clocks, moons and stars.

I think I need to give Hallmark a call . . .

Lost Children, Lost Parents

I'm sure you've heard that Nebraska has recently run into some challenges with a law it passed in July. Short story is they agreed their state would be a safe haven, allowing parents to drop children off at hospitals if they were overwhelmed and couldn't care for their child (for more info, go here). The last of the fifty states to pass such a law, Nebraska lawmakers interpreted it quite leniently - defining 'child' as anyone under 18.

Since July, 19 children (22 months to 18 years, I believe), have been dropped off at hospitals. Some parents and grandparents even drove in from out of state to leave their children.

Nebraska's answer was to quickly amend the definition of child to mean anyone 3 days old or younger. This moved their state's definition from the most lenient to the most restrictive.

To do the math for you, none of the abandoned children and their overwhelmed parents would have been allowed refuge under the revised law.

19 children would still be living in a situation that was apparently so overwhelming for their caregivers that they chose to give them away.

I'm not sure what the answer is, but clearly status quo wasn't working for these parents and children.

As a parent myself with an abundance of resources at my fingertips, things feel crazy for me at times. I can't imagine what the parents of these 19 children were facing and how stuck they must have felt.

Something is wrong.

I'm sure we can do better.

What do you think?

Happy Birthday To Me

Today is my birthday.

I have to admit I've been feeling a little down lately. I kind of wished my birthday would wait until this blue cloud passed away so I could enjoy it more.

Yet, here it came.

Yet I'm feeling remarkably better at the close of the day then I was at the start.

My kids picked out gifts for me that couldn't be sweeter.

My husband got me a beautiful piece of jewelery.

Well wishes poured in from friends far and near.

A silence was broken that had been there for too long.

The day was filled with magic.

May this year be filled with magic as well.

Candy Goblin

Tonight Peanut One and I went outside to throw some stuff in the compost bin (perhaps a failed experiment, but we keep trying!).

I asked Peanut Two if she wanted to join us, as the trip to the bin is undoubtedly a favorite adventure.

She coyly snuggled under the blanket on the couch and said "no".

Peanut One and I did our duty and came back, no less than four minutes later, to find Peanut Two on the couch, under the blanket, with a handful of chocolate candies in her lap.

The little urchin must have sprinted to the kitchen, climbed the stool, grabbed the candy and sprinted back to the couch in record time.

A girl after my own heart!

Fill 'Er Up

I sat on the floor last night as the Peanuts were doing everything possible to avoid getting ready for bed.

Suddenly Peanut One came charging at me with a huge hug.

I hugged him back and then he started blowing vigorously into my shoulder as he still held on with his hug.

"What are you doing Peanut One?"

"Filling you up with love Mom."

Does it get any better than that?

A Case of Mistaken Identity

I've cut back tremendously on my work over the past month or so. This was a conscious choice in an aim to step back from my professional life which was great or horrible depending on which day I looked at it.

I wanted more time with my kids, I wanted more time with myself, I wanted to enjoy what I spent my time on. . .

Yet here I sit wondering what I was thinking. I am spending more time with my kids, yet I also feel incredibly disconnected. I wonder what else work was giving me besides money and a resume pad.

Was it giving me a social outlet?

Was it giving me an escape?

Was it giving me a purpose?

Was it giving me an identity?

I am meeting a ton of new people right now and I thank God, Goddess, All That Is that I have something professional going on so I don't have to say I don't work.

I can't seem to accept it, embrace it or appreciate it.

I also find my life is filled with a new layer of anxiety. I think I used to hide from things I didn't enjoy or feel comfortable with by focusing on work. I've got nothing to pull me in that way anymore.

In short, I'm still unsure what the right path is. I think it might be good to give this a bit more time and see what doors open up as I close this one tighter.

On the other hand, I might go nuts!

Earth, Wind and Fire

Ten years ago, in addition to the relationship described here, I also started meeting with a group of women every week. Brought together through common and painful past experiences, we each sought out the group to heal, to find solace, to stop the madness. . .

Since that time I have bared my soul to these women who know me in a way that no one else in my life does. They joined me at the height of happiness and the depth of sadness, through the incessant rat-tat-tat of anxiety and the power of anger. These days we call ourselves the Journey Women as we somehow moved beyond the here and now and have begun to craft our future, our magical realities.

On our ten year anniversary, I wanted to thank the Journey Women for all they they do and have done. I want to thank them for who they are.

Earth is the rock of the group.

While oftentimes silent she stands firm and strong as bedrock.

Wind flows around the group,

connecting us together and remembering where we came from,

while giving us inspiration and a fresh perspective.

Fire burns both deep and strong.

She warms with her compassion and understanding

and inspires with her passion.

This one's for you. Happy Ten Year Anniversary!

A Rose By Any Other Name

When we chose Peanut One's name (while not being super creative) we thought it was a bit different and surely wouldn't be the next Owen or Olivia or Madison.

He started at a new school this year. Whose cubby is next to his? A girl with the same name! As she was named after her grandfather, we had a little laugh with her parents and shrugged it off.

Today though, I opened the Pottery Barn catalogue. There, on the heavily monogrammed products, was Peanut One's name emblazoned for all to see.

Just as Owen was splattered all over the pages last year.

I must admit defeat.

We should have named him Bob.

The Little Sneaker

On our good day days, Peanut Two is incredibly easy to parent as she is an independent, content little gal.

On all of those other days, she continues doing her own thing and if it isn't in sync with whatever else is going on drama ensues. On top of that, she doesn't seem to respond to sticker charts, praise or other types of good-behavior tactics that worked so well with Peanut One.

Because of this - and because quite frankly I just dread it - I've been dreading toilet training with her. It was relatively easy with Peanut One, but he loved sticker charts and once we figured out the exact right amount of celebration he needed for each accomplishment (not too much, not too little) he swiftly moved to underwear. For whatever reason, though, it inspired anxiety in me. I thought about it way too much and worried about it way too much.

Thus, I've been completely avoiding the idea of toilet training Peanut Two. Even though she has had all the signs of readiness, I've had in my mind that we'll just wait until the New Year.

Yesterday I picked her up at play-school and she had a substitute teacher who was much more communicative than her regular teacher. Apparently, the little stinker Peanut Two has been using the potty at school.

The substitute told me that she walked right in like she always did it and went to the bathroom. She tried to praise the little Peanut, but Peanut Two blew it off, shrugging her shoulders in a blase way.

I'm wondering now . . . what else has she got up her sleeve?

So That's How It Works

Peanut One has been increasingly interested in how babies are made. A year or so ago he questioned me and I said that Daddies and Mommies make babies.

He asked if we made them on the grill or in the oven.

About six months ago he asked how babies got out of their Mommy's bellies. I told him the Mom went to the hospital and the Doctor helped get the baby out.

That sufficed for a few months.

Now he is persistently asking how babies get into their Mommy's bellies. I try to tell him:

That is hard to explain to a 4 year old.

You just learn how to do it when you are old enough.

I can't really tell you.

Nothing works. . .

Finally tonight I whispered in his ear, because whispering seems to make any explanation better, and told him that Daddy met Mommy, he loved her, we got married and then made a baby.

He thought about it for a while and whispered back that he got it.

Then he told me he was going to get a baby, shove it in his friend's ear and push it down into her belly.

Works for me. . .

The Thrilla' From the South

Peanut One has gotten really into dancing lately except that only a mother could call it dancing. It is really flailing, combined with jumping and hopping, combined with the head shaking thing that white boys do when they boogie.

Tonight I put on 'Love Is A Battlefield' by Pat Benatar, in honor of the haircut I just got which is a little shorter than I wanted. Peanut One began 'dancing' as Peanut Two looked on in awe. Suddenly he grabbed his crotch a la Michael Jackson, threw up his other hand and then continued dancing. Huh? Has he been watching this on You Tube?!