Sleep Deprived & Fabulous

I regretfully admit that sometimes my days off seem endless.  Board games that turn into “bored” games after being played 28 times in a row, never-ending pleads for fruit snacks, requests to play with messy Moon Sand.  The question becomes: how quickly can Mama go out of her mind?

Friends and relatives with older children have wistfully sighed “the early years go by so fast…” and while I believe them, I still have trouble fully living in present.  (How can I not when I am convinced that Vivienne will sleep longer and better as she gets older, just like Lily did?  Really, can you blame me at this point?)  I have heard people lament about their lost time and think that I have already learned the “time goes so quickly” lesson.

Apparently, this afternoon was a much-needed refresher course.

Lily had a meltdown after a four-hour play-date with the neighbor girls (our yard, their yard, their house, our house).  Everyone was starving and I sent the girls home when I started getting dinner ready.  Lily was incredibly sad and would have really rather starved than stopped playing, and became a crabby, furious and crying disaster.  And then it hit me.

This almost four year old will wake up one day and always chose to play with her friends over me.  I need to stop whining about being so tired and not having time to clean/read/watch a movie/update photo albums/etc.

Living everyday for that day itself is important, because, truth be told, it does go quickly.  Why is it so hard for me to do this?  And why do I have to be reminded?

I vowed to change my mindset.  Tonight’s play consisted of puppies and the pound and a dog catcher and a veterinarian who fixed everyone’s cuts and scrapes.  And when it was time to start bedtime, I felt fulfilled in a way that no other task could ever compete with.

Lesson learned.  Again.  (Thank god there is still time to learn!)

My revelation began when Lily was one & half or two years old. I had been doing things for her ever since she was born and it seemed unnatural to stop doing things for her even though she was fully capable of performing simple tasks.

One lazy Saturday, we were getting ready to walk to the park. The stroller was packed to the nines and everything was ready…except for Lily, who had been replaced with a screeching banshee, wriggling away as I tried to strap on her sneakers. “Park!” the banshee shrieked. “Yes, I’m trying to get us ready to go to the park! We need to put your shoes on!” I exclaimed, quickly becoming annoyed. As I listened to her screams, a light bulb went off. Why was I struggling with a two year old? I didn’t really care whether we went to the park or not. The thought of sitting on the couch reading a magazine while she played with her toys was just as fun for me and half the effort! So I stopped. The shrieking stopped too, as she peered up at me with a look of curiosity. “Park?” she whispered. “When you put your shoes on, then we can go to the park,” I calmly responded. I sat down and patiently waited to see what she would do. Much to my amazement, she picked up her shoes, put them on herself and proudly announced, “Shoes! Park!” From that moment on, I vowed not to do anything for my daughter she could do herself.

Now that Lily is almost four, this small and simple rule has extended to every part of our day. She clears her own dishes after a meal, carries her backpack to our car on the way to preschool, opens the fridge and finds a juice box. Sometimes I find myself falling back into the old patterns of doing it myself and have to remind myself to step back. If she needs help, she always asks me. I truly believe that letting our kids try things and experiment and get messy and make mistakes and “do it themselves” creates confidence and instills self-sufficiency. After allowing her the freedom to do so, it has amazed me what she is capable of – and she is not even four yet! Imagine the chores I can make her do in the coming years…

*another version of this entry can be viewed at mamalode.com

My life is filled with singing. I was gifted with a natural ability to pick and up and carry a tune, but I consider myself to be in the “karaoke” category of singers rather than the “American Idol Top 10” category. But really, that is besides the point. My musical upbringing probably has something to do with my love for singing, and it certainly helps to be married to the lead singer of a band and have a father-in-law who is a voice teacher.

During the last four years of being a mom, I have found an interesting use for singing beyond it being absolutely fun. The sound of my voice is calming during obvious times (nap and bedtime), but I have found that singing actually helps with day to day necessities and teaching skills as well. Who would have thought that a made up song would assist in the bedtime of a crabby two year old or provide the necessary distraction to avoid a meltdown?

If you hung out with me for a day, you’d most likely hear lovely musical renditions of “clean up your toys, clean up your toys, all of the dollies and horses too” and “brushing your teeth, brushing off the carrots, and the cheese stick, and the peanut butter sandwich” and “I share with you, you share with me, it is so nice to share!”

If I had more than five minutes to sit down during the average day, I’d probably have a YouTube link here with a video of me singing. Something to aspire to…

*a version of this entry can be viewed at mamalode.com

I consider it an advantage for my daughters to have a brilliantly talented chef for a father and a mother who could go on the show The Worst Cook in America (except that I don’t have any interest in actually learning how to cook). Dinner with me consists of the extent of my culinary skills: boiling pasta and heating up a jar of sauce. If I have to do much more than empty some food into a bowl and push a couple buttons on the microwave, it’s just not worth it. When “papa” is home, however, we get to experience the fantastic realm of his cooking repertoire. We’ve eaten homemade sushi, pork chops with sauce (Goulash? Glaze? See, I can’t even remember the right name for “sauce”), roasted beet salad with goat cheese; the incredibly delicious list is endless.

One of my favorite things in the entire world is to sit on the sidelines, listening to Lily and Jake make a meal together. They brandish their own aprons and she eagerly awaits instructions. She uses her own little plastic knife to chop up food while he whips through ingredients with a huge sharp knife that I would cut my hand off with if I tried to use. He reminds her that “one of the best things about being a chef is that you get to taste your food!” She has tried (although not necessary swallowed) blue cheese, ahi tuna and artichokes, just to name a few. Spending quality time in the kitchen with her father creates fabulous food and, probably more importantly, lasting memories. At least I can be proud of the fact that she is learning her numbers based on how much time we have to heat up something in the microwave!

*another version of this entry can be reviewed at mamalode.com