Connecticut

I joked this morning on Facebook about how vulnerable I felt having left my phone at home. Keep in mind, I would be back at home by 12:15 and connected once again.

I blissfully squirreled myself into an office and, uninterrupted, completed a work task that has been haunting me for a week, just begging for a quiet block of time. After preschool pick-up and lunch, I plopped the three year old on the couch for a bit of Peppa Pig on the DVR.

And there they were as the television screen faded into focus. Images of ambulances, so very many ambulances, lined up. Police officers. Flashing lights. Audio that wasn't working from a field reporter offering me no context. The words: "Shooting at Elementary School." The channel was local.

Panic. Fear. Where? Where? WHERE! It only took 15 seconds for the video to scroll through to show me this was Connecticut, but for 15 seconds my heart seized and my stomach dropped and all I could think of was the folly of forgetting my phone while my child could be hurt, scared, alone. Even now, I am still shaken. Still shaking. Still afraid. Enough to take fingers to keys to type, to make sense, to feel a little less alone in knowing that there are mothers not breathing a sigh of relief. There are mothers keening for their children. Mothers rushing to emergency rooms. Mothers pacing floors while doctors tend to injuries little bodies should never endure. Mothers numb with denial, knowledge, loss.

Empty stockings will remain on mantles. Gifts are tucked away in closets to bring fresh tears when discovered at some later date. Brothers and sisters are unmoored and frightened. Children now carry scars that school isn't safe.

The cocoons we create for our children are fragile. Despite our best intentions and most fervent precautions, predators will still find a way into our lives to shake our souls.

I feel sick for those families.

I can't dislodge the image of those flashing lights.

I will be waiting, impatiently, for my son to step off the school bus this afternoon. I will be waiting to hold him tight, to remind my heart of the feel of his skinny little embrace, to buffer his protest, to ruffle his hair while I pretend I'm not crying, to own the joy that my boy has come home to me.

Because in Connecticut, someone like me won't be able to do that today.

Tooth Fairy IOU

The six year old lost his first tooth today. And we're both a little bummed.

The thing had been hanging on by a thread for several days. Last night, the hubby and I tried, in vain, to pull it for him. But our little guy was a little freaked out by the whole thing and had little patience for our amateur dentistry. When he didn't loose it by breakfast, I packed his back pack with an envelope and instructed him to bring it home for the tooth fairy if he lost it at school.

Sure enough, he came off the bus this afternoon and announced he lost it. Followed by, "I swallowed it."

It was an accident and from what I gathered just fell out of his gums and slid right on down his gullet without his knowledge. He's pretty torn up about it, despite the fact that the tooth fairy would accept an explanation note under his pillow if the tooth was missing.

I tried to focus on the excitement of it all, but part of me is feeling a bit sad about it, too. This was a first for both of us. I remember the bumpy edges of that little tooth first breaking through his pink gums when he was 10 months old. I watched it grow and change his little gummy smile, watched as it was joined by others until he finally had a mouthful of little, pearly chompers that peeked through smiles and bit through new foods.

Now it's gone. I'm not entirely sure I would have kept it after the tooth fairy picked it up, so it's not that, but I do feel a bit of sadness that I didn't get to hold that first tooth in my palm, marvel at its smallness and say a final goodbye to his babyhood. He's growing and changing so fast. He's reading and smart mouthing and doesn't want to crawl into my lap nearly as much anymore. The fact that he's passed another milestone only solidifies that the ride is going too fast.

But life isn't perfect, right? Sometimes you swallow the tooth or mess up the proposal (points at self - story for another day) or burn the dinner, but it doesn't mean you can't still have the magic of the tooth fairy, the engagement or the impromptu takeout.

Tonight, I will still sneak into a bedroom and slip something beneath a pillow. Another first for all of us. Then, tomorrow, I'll try to get used to his new smile with a little hole in the middle. Just another piece of his fading babyhood.

30 Days of Thanks

Back in 2008, after a crazy, week-long road trip with the two year old, I felt the need for perspective and embarked on a month-long journey of being thankful. I titled it 30 Days of Thanks. The following year, our second child was born and a friend took up the task. I tackled it again in 2010, the same month that I also challenged myself to NaNoWriMo. That was a month of crazy. Last year it appeared to morph onto Facebook statuses and this year, I see folks I've never met quoting 30 Days of Thanks all over walls and twitter feeds. My little idea has gone viral.

Which only makes me feel even more guilty that I haven't even attempted to participate this year. Not at all. Not even a little bit.

Not that I'm not thankful. Goodness knows I have so many things in my life that I am grateful for and should take a moment to recognize. The only problem has been that this particular November has been jam packed full of work deadlines, school commitments, birthday parties and Thanksgiving hosting duties. All sound like weak excuses and all the more reason to stop and smell the proverbial roses. However, part of my rule of threes and attempt at single-tasking is giving myself permission sometimes to not participate. Not to participate in worry. Not to participate in every activity. Not to participate in petty arguments. And not to participate in one more task that instead of allowing me to feel thankful, would probably just make me feel more pressure to complete another task. Not really the point of the exercise at all.

The good news is that I find myself with a strange Sunday afternoon where I don't have laundry to do, the groceries have been procured and put away, the house is finally quiet after a holiday of out of town guests and the hubby has taken the boys to a playground. I am taking this moment to look back on all that I do have to be thankful for this year and knocking out 30 Days in one go. Please indulge me for a moment...

1. My kids - I never knew that something that can cause such frustration and angst could also deliver such profound feelings of love, laughter and joy.

2. My husband - I don't tell him enough how much he means to me. But without his steady hand, there is no way I'd be able to do/be/see/love as much. He's the real deal and I'm a lucky lady.

3. My sister - She embodies strength every day, even when she's feeling her weakest. Not to mention we can laugh until I'm crying and she's wheezing like a smoker simply by looking at each other.

4. My parents - They are two of the toughest, most selfless people I know and they would walk through fire for my sister and I.

5. Real Housewives - Before I get too serious, let's be thankful for those moments when I don't have to pretend like I'm making it work and can watch a bunch of crazy, catty ladies who appear to have everything and yet are completely f'd up in ways I can't even fathom. Thanks for making me feel normal again, ladies, and so entertained at the same time.

6. My health - This summer has had its share of medical drama and I'm pleased to be on this side of it and eager to move beyond it.

7. Calendars, iPhone reminders and color coded sharpies - without them, I'd be more of a mess than I already am.

8. Room moms - Because I don't think I have it in me, I am so glad that these ladies do and make it look so easy while doing it.

9. Peppa Pig - My 3 year old now calls his grandma "Granny" and pronounces tomato "toe-mah-toe" thanks to these little British piggies. Truly adorable.

10. New Friends - It's so fun to watch my boys navigate new friendships in the new school year and find new interests as a result. Not to mention all the new moms and dads we get to meet.

11. Old Friends - I have a wonderful group of people around me that I can reach out to for a play date, advice, a movie date, book recommendations, trips down memory lane, laughs, or a shoulder to lean on.

11. Work - As complex as it makes my life sometimes, I truly enjoy the people I work with, the work I'm doing and the challenge it presents.

12. Water - There is something so soothing to my soul about being near the water, whether it's a lake, the beach or a river. I am so thankful to have had time at the beach this year to reset.

13. Family - Taking the kids to my extended family's haunts in New England this summer was a highlight I will not soon forget. Clamoring on stone walls, playing in the pond, pool games, cousins, great aunts and uncles, chowder, chocolate cake, brotherly bonding.

14. Chapel Hill - our home away from home.

15. Clean house - it doesn't happen often, but when it does, boy does it make me feel good.

16. Playgrounds - My boys love playgrounds. I love that they love to be active. I love that on a playground I can play as much or as little as they need me to. Some days they want to just run around with their friends. Other days, the little guy and I can play pretend games in a deserted play structure.

17. Cousins - I love that my boys have a built-in group of friends for life because they have cousins.

18. Babysitters - Cause when you can't find one, you realize how dependent you are on them.

19. Leftovers - Not just because it's Thanksgiving and I haven't had to cook a meal since Thursday, but leftovers always make the next day so much easier, don't they?

20. Books - Even when I'm busy, I love having a book to read. A story can take me to so many places. When I don't have a book, I feel unmoored, a little lost, a tad bit lonely.

21. School programs - I love that we're finally in Kindergarten and have Thanksgiving sing alongs, Halloween character parades and other programs to attend. They are so silly and predictable, but seeing my first born up there participating in these rites of childhood is so fun.

22. Quiet afternoons -  I am so thankful for this afternoon. It is so rare to have a quiet house to myself and the freedom in my schedule to know that there is nothing that HAS to be done right in this moment.

23. Not having to travel this holiday. It's always nice to not be in the car driving down I-85 for an entire afternoon.

24. Board games. Yes, I'm a dork.

25. Ice skating - even if the boys didn't quite get it yet this year, it was still fun to be gliding out on the ice for a little bit.

26. Home town fun - I love living in Atlanta and all that it offers. Museums, the zoo, the Botanical Garden, parks. There is so much available to do, if we want to.

27. Pie - yup, Thanksgiving is still on my mind, but pie is just perfection.

28. Sweaters - A nice cozy sweater on a cool day is just so comforting.

29. Tickles - There is nothing that makes my day more than the sound of my kids laughing and, when I need a little pick-me-up, I have been known to resort to a bit of tickling to hear it. They never disappoint.

30. Jumping in puddles - Because life needs to be silly, and those are the moments that I am most thankful for.

Multitasking Myth

Multitask - vb, to work at several different tasks simultaneously. (courtesy dictionary.com).

As a mother, I thought I was the queen of multitasking. Soothing kids while making dinner, rocking babies while writing blog posts, nursing while going to the bathroom (yes, I managed this a couple of times). When I started working last year, I assumed multitasking was the way to go, answer phone calls at the playground, sending media advisories while the kids are playing, cleaning the house while cooking dinner and playing Chutes & Ladders. No biggie. Right?

Wrong.

The last few weeks I have come to the realization that multitasking is a myth. The more I stretch myself between tasks, the less effective I am at completing them, or completing them well. I have tried to make a conscious effort to focus on one thing at a time. Whether it's finishing up one work task before picking up the next, or dedicating time to household tasks, or spending time with the kids.

Sure, multitasking happens. There was getting the boys involved in the birthday party goody bag prep that ended up being an enjoyable joint activity while also getting something checked off the list. There was the cleaning the house while the boys had friends over for a play date (hello, distractions). And, of course, there was the taking a conference call while at a child's birthday party with the 3 year old who, of course, had to make a trip to the potty. Thank goodness those editors had no idea what was going on on the other end of my muted line.

But if I've learned anything from these flex schedule work arrangement and mothering gigs, it's that things always get done. Maybe not right when I want them to, sometimes late at night, but they always get done.

I'm learning to cut myself some slack and focus on one thing at a time. It's a subtle difference to how I approach my day, but seems to be working.

Like right now. I've been typing this in the early hours while the kids are snuggled up beside me watching a little vacation morning TV. Think I'll hit publish and join them under the blanket.

Time to focus.

The Day After

I had the privilege of volunteering in my son's kindergarten classroom today. My job was to go over an election work sheet and help the children cut out and paste answers to questions about what happens on election day, who was running, where the president lives, etc... Pretty benign.

I was surprised when some of the children started volunteering who their parents' had voted for. Per my earlier rant post, I did not share with my kids whom I voted for, despite the 6 year old's continued pleas. But the children were all pretty cute today, telling me about going to the polls with mom or dad and laughing when I told them the president's office was shaped like an oval and about the stickers they received.

And then...

One very adorable, sweet little girl pointed to the picture of one of the candidates, made a disgusted noise and said, "Ew! He's the bad man." I'm sure my mouth hit the floor while I tried to play if off.

"Sweetie, he's not a bad man. Both men want to help the country very much."

"No! He is a bad man. I'm going to color an X over his face because he's bad." And she vehemently went to work on just that.

As parents, we need to be so careful about what we say in front of our children. Whether you're talking about the presidential candidates, a neighbor, your in-laws, your boss, our children hear everything. If you speak in judgmental tones, so will your child. How sad that this little girl will now think that our presidential election was about good guys and bad guys when, quite honestly, anyone who wants to volunteer for the most thankless job in the world is worthy of respect regardless of whether you agree with their ideology or not.

Honestly, I am very saddened by this. Sad that it's come to this. To kindergartners repeating hateful words about people who deserve our respect. How can our country come together to solve our problems if we're raising our children to perpetuate it?

It was a wake-up call for me. I'll certainly be watching what comes out of my mouth. You never know where it will be repeated.

UNCLE!

I've had it.

This political season is about to push me over the edge. I think a lot of you, based on conversations I've had, feel the same way.

Let's get a few things straight.

I am a complex person. I believe in a certain set of values and ethics that I learned from my parents. My life is guided by this moral compass they so lovingly instilled. I am a product of my parents, grandparents, neighbors, teachers, church and friends. I found independence in college where I forged my own path, separate from these founding mothers and fathers, and began the evolution of my own, independent thought. There were hard lessons learned about friendship, business, the gray fog that lives between the stark contrasts of right and wrong, along the way as I married, moved and began a career. These people, experiences and situations all worked to forge the person I am today and my current city, neighborhood, friends, colleagues, children and present set of challenges provide me the opportunity to continue to evolve as a person and in my thought process.

You are a complex person. I can't conceive of what has happened in your life, what events have shaped you, influenced you and otherwise created the uniqueness that is you. I just know that we are friends. We are two complex people with enough similar interests to be writing and then reading this same piece of html space in the world. I respect our differences, hope to learn from your set of experiences in the same way I hope I can share what I have gleaned through life and together we can form a crooked puzzle piece of our relationship to add to the picture of humanity.

The world is a complex place. There are difficult problems and very few straightforward answers. There are a myriad of circumstances that make any one solution work for me and not work for you, or vice versa. There are entities that want the best for us and entities that want the best for themselves. And it's often difficult to figure out the difference, particularly when it comes to leadership where power can often blur vision and confuse priorities.

Now that we can all agree on the above set of complexities, let's get down to brass tacks.

I identify with a particular political party. It's on my voter registration. But, it does not define me nor does it define my vote.

Growing up, we watched the news during dinner. My parents openly discussed the news of the day in front of my sister and me. I did not necessarily know at the time which political party my parents identified with because it wasn't how we talked "back then." But I do remember my mom's pride when Mondale chose Ferraro as a running mate and how excited, in turn, I was as an 8 year old girl that a woman was on the ticket. I remember waiting for President Reagan to arrive in our hometown and being so excited to see him. I remember my father's outrage when my grandfather tried to get his goat by announcing he was going to vote for Perot.

And I remember each and every election day asking my parents who they voted for. And they never, not once, told me.

"It's a personal decision," my father would say. My sister and I would spend that meal trying to guess. Putting forth our arguments as to why we thought he would vote one way or she would vote the other and my dad would just sit back and smile. I imagine it probably amused him that we were having to think and articulate our positions in order to guess. At the end of the meal, however, that smile would simply be irritatingly enigmatic to my sister and me as we still had no certain idea who they had pulled the lever for.

Now, however, we seem to wear our political affiliations on our chests like we do our favorite team sweatshirts. Facebook has created a culture where not only can you share your opinion, but you can tell others they are wrong for having theirs. It's often contentious, rarely productive, conversations that result. And this is on both sides.

I have no problem with someone posting an article about a particular election issue and offering their insight into why one side might have a better solution. Those posts, however, seem to be fewer and farther between the simply incendiary ones posted with little to know explanation other than "my guy is better than your guy" or the even better "how could anyone vote for *this* guy?"

I read one of these in my timeline today, hence this diatribe. Post something informative. Don't tell me, show me. Make me take a step back to think on an issue and how it might affect someone other than myself because the fact of the matter is, I only walk in my own shoes and see things through my own eyes. Make me see something new.

Instead the tone is of superiority and condescension. It's ugly and mean and I don't need an acquaintance from college to insinuate I'm dumb for my beliefs because that's insulting me and the village of people and experiences that formed me. And frankly, I may identify with a particular political party, but I do actually look at the totality of a candidate and decide who best matches my priorities.

Because I am more than a D or an R. I am a woman, a mom, a wife, a daughter, a worker, a Catholic, a helper, a friend, a neighbor and a citizen. And if you look at me differently once you know which side of the fence I tend to sit on, then that says more about you than me, doesn't it?

The fact of the matter is we are all in this together. I have no doubt that both candidates truly have the best intentions for this nation at heart. You can't malign their motives. Their plans, sure. But their morals and motivation? How could you possibly know? How could you possibly presume?

So, please, don't presume you know me based on my voter registration.

I am a complex person.

Sophie's Choice: Kid's Saturday Scheduling Edition

I knew it was bound to happen, but I still wasn't prepared for how to handle it. The 6 year old has been invited to a birthday party and has a soccer game at the exact same time. There is no way to do them both. We will have to choose. 

The husband's initial reaction at the scheduling conflict was, "party." The birthday party is for a close friend, would be fun for the whole family and will most certainly involve cake. 

BUT. 

I began to wonder if we let him pick the party, what are we teaching him about commitment to team? Are we insinuating that it's okay to pick the fun thing over the obligation? Will this make it harder to get him to practice/Sunday school/anything he just doesn't feel like doing? 

OR. 

Are we making too big a deal about what it means to participate on a 6 year old soccer team? I mean, if we're ever going to blow off a game for a fun thing, it would be now, right? And it's not like we're letting him skip to watch TV or play in the yard or because he doesn't feel like it. It's a special circumstance. 

And there will be cake. (I clearly have a problem with sweets lately). 

UGH. 

So, dear Internet friends, oh mothers of experience...am I overreacting?