parenthood

Collecting Seashells

Posted on November 19, 2013 Written by Tonya

I have said it before and I’ll say it again, being a mother is the toughest job I have ever had and I’ve had some crummy jobs.

It’s thankless and tiresome and sometimes so frustrating I want to scream, gauge my eyes out and curl up in the fetal position and cry. It’s also rewarding in ways I never thought possible and has taught me so many valuable lessons about love and life and the world around me.

But I digress…

When my husband travels, motherhood is the absolute hardest.

Honest to God, I don’t know how single parents or parents with deployed spouses do it. I suppose they have no choice, so they just do.

Just like Lucas and I have the past five days…. Five days of breakfasts, lunches, dinners, snacks, arguing over screen time, bath time, potty talk, picking up toys and getting shoes on. Five days filled with soccer practice, park visits, hours of games and books, reminders to wash hands and brush teeth, one super fun play date, three viewings of Peter Pan and a beautiful afternoon at the beach collecting seashells.

It was when I finally kicked off my shoes, took a deep breath and got sand under my nails digging for shells with my son that I realized, five days is nothing, I’ve totally got this and I have a great kid! These moments of it just being the two of us are fleeting so I should stop counting down the hours until bedtime and enjoy it.

I may have continued to look at the clock a little more than usual, but we made it through virtually unscathed.

Each time Todd is out of town, I appreciate all that he does to help raise our son, care for our dog, keep our household running smoothly and help my sanity by sharing all of our responsibilities. I am so grateful to have a parenting partner, someone to share the duties, challenges and most of all the love. ______________________________________________________________________________

Day 18: Today I give thanks to my life partner in crime and in all matters of the heart, my husband. I don’t know how (or why) he has put up with me all these years, but I’m glad he has. I love him with all my heart. #30daysofgratitude

The Bad Stuff Can Wait

Posted on April 18, 2013 Written by Tonya

He doesn’t know about the Holocaust, 9/11, Columbine, Waco, explosions in Boston or West.

He believes guns are only for shooting the bad guys, although he doesn’t really understand the concept of “bad guys”.

Sandy is something he gets after a day at the park or beach not a devastating hurricane or the name of an elementary school in Virginia.

He knows his mommy and daddy can comfort him, although when he’s really apprehensive, like standing in line for his first (kid-friendly) roller coaster at Knott’s Berry Farm, his lovely does it best.

He doesn’t understand political smear campaigns, bullies or strangers.

He wants to be friends with everyone and upon meeting him for the first time, don’t be surprised if he invites you over for a play date.

He hears his mommy curse from time to time but doesn’t realize that words can be very harmful.

He sings the Thomas & Friends theme song with such conviction, it has become his own personal anthem.

He’s never heard of Ricin and to be honest, I hadn’t either until a couple of days ago.

He doesn’t know that there are children dying of starvation, children that don’t have fresh water to drink, shoes on their feet or beds to sleep in.

I believe he could live off peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (with the crusts cut off), pretzels and M&Ms.

He asks a lot of questions about how far away heaven is and why he can’t visit his Grandma and Grandpa Adams.

He loves to practice winking at me and writing his name; and has mastered Candy Land and Memory, especially when he gets to shuffle the cards.

He thinks when an airplane takes off, it always lands and a familiar face or exciting adventure awaits him.

He doesn’t know that evil exists and that bad things happen to good people for no reason whatsoever.

It’s a big bad scary world out there and I can only shelter my son for so long. I can only control what he hears and sees for so long. For now, I have all the answers, but soon I won’t. I want Lucas to learn about the world around him, the good, the bad and the very ugly, but first I want him to have a childhood; filled with only things that make him smile.

I look over at him now, sitting in the middle of our living room, surrounded by his cars and trusty lovely. He is watching a bright and colorful episode of Bubble Guppies and I think, the bad stuff can wait.

What A Difference A Day Makes

Posted on February 6, 2013 Written by Tonya

Yesterday there were two time-outs before 8 AM.
Today there were cuddles, giggles and good morning kisses.

Yesterday we had cereal and back talk for breakfast
Today we shared pancakes, strawberries and laughter.

Yesterday we argued over the TV, my phone and the iPad.
Today there was no mention of electronics whatsoever (SHOCKING!).

Yesterday we negotiated ad nauseam over the red vs. the blue shirt, teeth brushing, nose wiping, jacket wearing and picking up toys.
Today what was laid out was worn and you asked to brush your teeth and have your nose wiped. The toys are still all over the floor in the playroom.

Yesterday we were rushed and late for everything.
Today we had time to spare.

Yesterday there was no nap and therefore more time outs.
Today we read books and rested comfortably together.

Yesterday there were no unsolicited hugs.
Today was filled with “I love yous” and smiles.

Yesterday there was a lot of shouting followed by a tension headache and clock watching until bedtime.
Today there was a Chutes & Ladders marathon, Aqua Doodle fun and dancing around the living room.

Yesterday there was a shortage of patience, tolerance, peace and quiet.
Today was completely different.

Thank goodness.

Broken Record

Posted on January 22, 2013 Written by Tonya

‘No’ is a complete sentence. – Anne Lamott

My son will never fully understand the term, “I’m starting to sound like a broken record” because he’ll never own a record, but it really is the best way to describe 90% of what comes out of my mouth and in through one of his ears and out the other on any given day.

Spoken in varying degrees of volume I might add.

If you aren’t going to eat it, why did you ask for it?

Let’s go, we’re going to be late!

Now, Lucas!!

I love you.

Please don’t put that in your mouth.

What do you say?

What did you say?

You’re so sweet, buddy.

No shoes on the couch.

Please don’t talk to me that way.

Will you please pick up these toys?

You did such a great job!

Do you need to potty?

Are you sure?

Do you need some help?

Let me fix your undies.

What do you mean no more kisses?

Are you tired?

No nap?

No potty talk, please.

Be nice to the dog.

How did I get so lucky?

It’s not time for TV.

No means no.

Maybe.

Stop at the corner!

Use the brake, not your shoe.

I’m so proud of you.

No splashing.

Be careful, buddy.

No running.

Thank you for listening.

None of that stuff belongs in here, take it into the play room.

Indoor voice.

Why are you yelling?

Please stop yelling.

Of course, I’ll get you a snack, read to you, play a game, color, put on music, take you to the park, jump on the trampoline, build a tower, let you play with glitter.

Agh!! I’m either cleaning up a mess you’ve made or the dog made.

That’s the 45th time you have asked me to help you look for your Chuggingtons and I said I would when we get home.

Not one more time, do you hear me?

Can you hear me?

Do you know how much I love you?

The Power Of A Sock

Posted on September 27, 2012 Written by Tonya

Even before I started looking I knew the evidence was all around our house.

My first clue was the lone baby sock I discovered in the bottom of a suitcase. He hasn’t been able to wear it in three years.

The tiny, white, soft sock, still smelled of Dreft made me nostalgic, yes but also had me searching for more proof…

Upon further investigation, I realized he’s gone from big wooden chunky puzzle pieces with handles to masterfully assembling the 30+ piece sets.

He’s physically heavier, weighting nearly 34 pounds. I never hesitate to carry him when he asks.

No longer in diapers (except at bedtime), he is learning how his body functions and all about feelings.

Instead of moving his cars across the floor, he creates scenarios and they have conversations with one another.

He loves to play Candy Land, Go Fish, Hide & Seek and Red Light, Green Light and I swear uses real strategy to assure a victory.

The pile of 2T and even some 3T clothing builds as we hand down the things he’s outgrown to our friends children.

He has opinions, knows how to make me laugh, recites the Pledge of Allegiance and can sing along to every word of Call Me Maybe.

More often than not, he opts to walk over being pushed in the stroller.

But the real proof that our house no longer has a baby is in his face. It’s more defined instead of soft and round.

He’s gone from a baby to a little boy in the blink of an eye and it is wonderful to witness.

It’s also enough to make me want to sit in a corner with a tub of ice cream and gallon of wine and cry. Maybe I should reach out to my RE and start up on the baby #2 trail again?

Better yet, I’m going enjoy what I have right this very minute.

Funny how much power a lone sock can have.

Three

Posted on August 29, 2012 Written by Tonya

There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.

– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Three is tough.

Three is really tough.

I had been told that the terrible twos had nothing on the horrible threes, but I had no idea how rough it was going to be.

A perfect family outing can turn sour in the blink of an eye.

A pleasant dinner can end in tears and refusal to eat before you have a chance to say, “please pass the pepper”.

Quiet snuggle time and stories at bedtime can lead to World War III.

Three year old’s can be unruly, unpredictable and unwavering.

They are loud and throw animalistic temper tantrums over minutia.

They are cheeky and disrespectful, cunning and quick.

One minute cute and adorable, engaging and fun and the next he’s the Terminator and out for blood.

From the day he turned three, Lucas, an already very willful child, became a professional terror, especially when temperatures are on the rise, a nap hasn’t been had, he has an empty tummy or has heard the word “no” one too many times.

His father and I became professional negotiators, peace keepers, patience seekers and silent 1 to 10 counters. We are a good team and can tell when the other needs a break.

Time outs, taking toys and other privileges away don’t always work. Neither does yelling. Yelling always makes it worse.

Sometimes we give in.

Sometimes we become short order cooks or we gather our belongings and get up and leave with a kicking and screaming child batting us in the head, we have long discussions about behavior and patience with both one another and our son. We try to teach Lucas what is acceptable and what is not, right from wrong and are learning to say “no” with finesse.

We fall into bed each night exhausted, pray that we made the right choices and are parenting as best as we can and have high hopes that tomorrow is a better day.

Every now and then, but more often than not, we receive heartfelt apologies from our sweet boy, tender “I love you’s” full of remorse and it makes all the horrid worthwhile.

Puppies & Preschoolers

Posted on August 9, 2012 Written by Tonya

In addition to feeling so sleep deprived I can’t even see straight and riddled with worried that I’m doing something terribly wrong, puppies and preschoolers are similar in a lot more ways than I thought:

Both require A LOT of gear. I thought we were prepared before we brought Charlie Pasta home on Tuesday, but I have made two trips to PetCo and one to Target to get MORE stuff.
Both love being chased around the backyard and it is a joy to watch.
Both love snacks / treats throughout the day.
Potty training both (or either) at the sane time (anytime) is a huge pain-in-the-ass/nearly impossible/difficult.
I have checked both while they were sleeping to make sure they were still breathing.
Both get a lot of photographs taken of them, which is good for them because they also both LOVE to be the center of attention.

A boy and his dog.

Both cry for what they want. And usually get it. CASE AND POINT: me sleeping next to the crate so he won’t be lonely. Oh, my aching back and bleeding heart!
Both want to be right underfoot at all times. I admit that I have stepped on both more than once and I have accepted the fact that I will never pee alone again.
Both mistake bedtime for playtime. CASE AND POINT: of the FIVE times I let Charlie out last night, he only peed ONCE. Sigh…
Both smell like magic, can bring a smile to your face no matter what mood you’re in and are always happy to see you.
Both are absolute angels when they are asleep.

Are you kidding me? I die!

While it is not without it’s challenges, parenthood and puppyhood are two of the best roles I’ve ever had and I am over the moon with delight with the latest, but I am so looking forward to Charlie sleeping through the night.

The Good Stuff

Posted on July 2, 2012 Written by Tonya

I hope my son doesn’t remember.

I hope he can’t recall everything I say and do.

I’d rather his memories of me standing in front of the mirror plucking my gray hairs and applying face masks be fuzzy.

Just as I’d rather he completely block out the time I yelled at him so loudly my entire body shook,

beat myself up about not working out or accomplishing more on my “To Do” list,

ran out of patience, not to mention creative ideas because he wouldn’t go to bed and I hid out in the bathroom for several minutes before I regained composure,

would go days without make-up or washing my hair,

wept for people he’ll never know and those we both have yet to meet.

called a friend an unkind word under my breath,

banged my fists on the steering wheel in anguish,

sighed heavily at unmet expectations that were set entirely too high to begin with,

slammed a door in frustration,

cried as I told his dad I didn’t think I was cut out for this motherhood thing,

threw my phone across the room in a blind rage.

The list of my not so finer moments goes on and on. I’m sure you have one of your own; things you wish you could change, protect your child from, moments you would do over if it were possible.

We are parents.

We are human.

We make mistakes.

I make mistakes.

Tons of them.

I hope my son only remembers the good stuff.

And if not, I hope he can forgive my flaws and indiscretions.

I Never Knew…

Posted on June 11, 2012 Written by Tonya

…that my sleep patterns would be so completely interrupted.

…that I would wipe your snot with the sleeve of my shirt.

…that there would be stickers on my living room floor for weeks on end.

…that World War III would break out if I offered the “wrong” flavor of juice.

…that I would utter the words, “Don’t lick that”, “Do you have to use the potty?” or, “Maybe” so many times.

…that rainy days would make me want to cry.

…that we would waste so much food!

…that my patience would be tried each and every day in ways I never could imagine.

…that there was so much I didn’t know.

…that there would be crayon marks on our walls, Play-Doh ground into clothing and paint caked to our dining table.

…that jumping in puddles would so fun.

…that there would be so many little toy pieces to misplace, lose all together, step on, or throw over the fence our neighbor’s yard.

…that there would be master negotiation tactics used in my house on an hourly basis. Seriously, show me a man on a ledge of a highrise and I’ll get him down!

…that ice cream, M&M’s and lollipops held so much power.

…that time-outs would be as much for you as they are for me.

…that I would spend half a lunch at a restaurant (with my in laws!!) coaxing you out from underneath the table. Grrr.

…that my heart could be so full.

This photo was taken yesterday. Do not let the innocent look on his face fool you, this little hellion refused to sit at the table, eat or cooperate in any way. Holy embarrassing!

Fear & Anxiety

Posted on May 10, 2012 Written by Tonya

It is completely heartbreaking (and to be fair, a little frustrating) when your child is inconsolable because they lack the words to express what ails them or what they desire.

If you knew, you could address it, right? When our children were infants, we went through the check list: is he wet?, is it meal time?, is he gassy?, is he tired?, etc. As their vocabulary increases, they can tell you what’s wrong or what they need. Instead of their grunts and groans and our second guessing, we hear, “more grapes” or “I have a tummy ache”. It’s wonderful!

Lucas has an extensive vocabulary, but it is devastating to visibly see anxiety and fear getting the best of him. He doesn’t have the words to describe those feelings and we are struggling to calm him through two very scary (to him) situations: fire alarms and swim lessons.

Let me back up a little…

When we were in Hawaii last summer, we were awakened on the first night of our stay by a loud fire alarm scaring Lucas half to death. I have never seen him so frightened. He was shaking and holding on to me tighter than anyone ever has and it took him a long time to get back to sleep that night.

Six months later he was in the Kids Club at the gym I attend and there was a fire alarm and everyone was evacuated from the building.

Once a month at his preschool, he experiences a fire drill, which just adds more fuel to the fire (no pun intended).

All of these incidents are discussed in our home on a regular basis. Even when we think we’ve moved past it, Lucas will demand that we tell him the “story” of what occurred during each scenario over and over and over.

He knows “fire alarms are just loud and don’t hurt you”, “we need them to be safe in case there is a real emergency”, and that his teachers will give him a “heads up”, if there is going to be a drill on one of the three days he’s at school, but he is still struggling.

Lucas’ other source of anxiety is swim lessons. He LOVES every form of water and has no qualms about going under water, floating, blowing bubbles, etc. We have completed four Parent & Me classes, BUT he is not a fan of his semi-private lessons and he frets about it all morning leading up to it. He ends up doing all the work in the 20 minute class, but cries all the way through.

For both of these issues, I have taught Lucas some basic deep breathing techniques for when he begins to feel scared and of course, we talk about what he’s experiencing and assure him that it’s okay to be scared.

Turns out the deep breathing helps me too, as there is nothing sadder than that face he makes just before his eyes well up with tears and his chin starts to quiver. All I can do is scoop him up and kiss him repeatedly and hold him and protect him.

My little boy.

On one hand, anxiety is a natural condition that helps us cope with new experiences and protects us from danger, so he HAS to work through it, but he’s only (almost) three and on the other, he’s a boy and society says that he is suppose to be tough and brave and show little emotion. As his mother, I just want to help him the best way I can.

If you’re the mother of a boy, how are you teaching that it is okay to be fearful? Do you have any tips for taming anxiety?

Collecting Seashells

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