'Tis the season to be gratfeul

I have to confess that I am one of those people who loves the Christmas season. 

I love the songs, the lights, the atmosphere.

I love decorating my tree and my living room.

I love planning and making our Christmas meal. 

I love the meaning behind the holiday, the hopefulness and joyfulness of it.

The only thing I am not so crazy about is excess.

I was in the waiting room at the doctor's office the other day and a shopping channel was on.

They were presenting wallets and some kind of electronic board games and when there was a commercial break, more stuff was being advertised.

Everything labeled with "Hurry" and "Will arrive before Christmas" and "Make sure you get this". 

After watching this for about 5 minutes I felt like it was just all too much. 

For me, the more these companies force their ads and products on me, the more I feel like I don't want to buy anything.

Free shipping on everything.

Buy two get one free. 

Ten percent off if you order before midnight.

And I just want to go sit on a bench in the park and forget the whole thing. 

So instead of making lists of what I want, I've decided to make one with what I already have that I am grateful for.

Turns out the list is endless and I really don't need any more stuff. 

I'll give you my top 5:

1. Peaceful times

2. Healthy family

3. Warm house

4. Food in the fridge

5. Comforts of the 21st century (my washing machine, indoor plumbing, laptops, working car etc). 

In light of all this, I've decided to give my daughter one present for Christmas.

Just one. 

I am happy I have the means to offer it to her (it's a small doll house, for those who are wondering).

Of course, friends and family want to shower her with presents which is a great blessing. 

But I will give those to her a bit later because otherwise she would just go into a package opening frenzy and would not even be able to enjoy all of them. 

When I was growing up, some of my Christmases were poor. 

We always had some kind of presents and a tree though.

Later, my parents could afford more expensive gifts and I remember getting video cassettes or Polly Pockets and Barbie dolls. And I loved all of those.

But I also remember receiving more modest presents like a bag of oranges and sweets and gingerbread men from church and I couldn't care less about them because they could not compare to all of the stuff that was waiting for me under the tree. 

It's important to help our children foster a sense of gratefulness.

To protect them from becoming desensitized by great amounts of stuff that they receive continuously and which make them unable to be appreciative of what they have.

If my daughter goes to the doctor, she gets stickers and coloring books.

If we eat out, she gets crayons.

If we go to church, there is always a nice person who brings her a teddy bear or a lollipop.

I think she got something almost every week for the past few months. 

So I try to talk to her about giving and donating and counting the things at the end of the day that we are grateful for. 

Of course, she is not even three but I feel like you can't start too early. 

It is so very easy to get caught up in the shopping spree. 

There's nothing wrong with wanting to give something to your loved ones for Christmas. 

Some gifts are simply timeless like books and games and CD's, tickets to various shows, markers and so on.

I have to admit that it's difficult for me to not buy my daughter a gift that I am sure she will like.

And the things she likes right now like figurines and doll stuff are really inexpensive. 

(Although when I see just how inexpensive they are and see where they are made, I immediately picture some wretched laborers slaving away for a few pennies so that my kid can take one look at the toy and then throw it in the corner).  

So I always think that it is better for her to have one meaningful gift than many many things she won't even know what to do with.

In other words, it is better for her if I don't buy her many toys. 

And then I can spend that money on an experience instead, like visiting a museum or taking a one-day trip to a nearby lake. Making memories.  

I wish you a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year! May it be filled with memorable moments that you and your child can talk about many years from now!

Why the terrible twos are not that terrible

Today my two-year-old daughter decided to go against her better judgement (and by "her", I mean "mine") and skip her nap. 

She tossed and turned and talked and giggled but, alas, sleep remained elusive.

So, basically, the second half of the day kind of...sucked. 

There were tantrums and there was whining and exasperation. 

And a lot of deep breaths on my part. 

There were also beautiful moments, idyllic some might say or cliche, others might think.

Like when we were sitting under the tree, with the sun warming our backs and just digging around the fallen leaves with a couple of sticks. 

Reading books.

Playing tickle monster.

Silly stuff we both enjoy.

And then I do something completely stupid and, after reading some random article online or watching a youtube video, I look at the comment section.

And what I see is painful.

Hateful words, pointless arguing and more hatred.

People disagree about everything, it seems and, protected by anonymity, they lash out at anyone who doesn't share their views.

I close the laptop and feel my peace slip away and fear creeping in.

How on earth am I supposed to raise a child in a world so filled with hatred and indifference?

It's not just some silly comments I am worried about, of course.

I am worried about everything.

Everything this world wants to offer or impose upon me and especially my child, all the voices always arguing, always screaming, always disagreeing. 

I don't know many things but the few things I do know about what is important in life, I've learned the hard way.

I am still surprised I ended up as I did.

It could have been a lot worse considering some of the naive and reckless decisions I've made along the way.

I wish I could take all that hard earned knowledge and give it to my daughter.

I can only hope she will listen to me as she grows up and not to the myriad of other voices that will lie to her in order to get her money, her vote, her support, her heart and soul.

I can only hope she will trust me as she grows more and more into who she is.

I know the time will come when she will argue with me, she will question me and the values, morals and ideas that I believe in, she will defy me and even deliberately disobey me about crucial matters. 

I hope I can still offer her guidance, even then.

Especially then.

But right now, I need to handle tantrums and whining.

Tantrums about getting dressed or undressed, about bedtime, about getting into the carseat.

Whining about getting more chocolate, reading one more book, staying 5 more minutes at the playground.

And, in all honesty, I prefer all this.

It seems so easy compared to arguing with her about any kind of filth that is out there and which she might feel tempted to embrace.

Right now she is little and innocent even in her anger and her tantrums. 

She is overtaken by pure joy simply by me giving her a peach or taking her to pet the animals. 

It's so easy to make her happy and still quite easy to comfort her.

She's an open book.

I pray I never do anything to make her close herself up to me.

That would truly be terrible as the mothers of many teens will tell you. 

In the meantime, we need to work on our nap routine.

And I'll keep improving my tickle monster skills. 

Mommy's hidden enemy: great expectations

You know how they say you cannot control anybody's behavior except your own.

Act don't react.

Stuff like that.

It turns out, this kind of mentality is crucial when you're a parent.

Sometimes I get lost in my own little world, imagining how my daughter is going to love the zoo or hate the mall or sleep during a long car ride.

The truth is, I can make an educated guess about her reaction to something, but I can never be sure.

And because of that, it's best to keep my expectations in check.

Example.

When my daughter was one and a half, we decided to go to the pool.

It was a lovely pool, clean, simple, blue...that kind of thing.

I bought some swim diapers, sunscreen, packed our bag with sunhats and snacks and toys and wipes and changing clothes and towels and a sippy cup... a whole lot of stuff.

I was giddy with excitement, remembering how I had seen other moms with tiny ones cooling in the pool, twirling in the water, giggling and enjoying each other's company.

When we get there, it does not look good.

My toddler starts protesting immediately.

She does not like the pool or the water or the toys or anything really.

There's another mommy in the water with an 8 month old who is having the time of her life.

I look at my own offspring, all grumpy, dissatisfied and winy. 

I'm not giving up so quickly!

I talk to her about how great's it's going to be, how mommy will take care of her and how we're going to swim together and chase her favourite ball in the pool.

I pick her up and in we go.

And....no. 

My daughter fusses at first and all my attempts to soothe her fail.

In less than a minute, the fussing turns into crying, then into high-pitched screaming. 

People are looking.

Some are frowning.

Some are irritated.

Some are simply baffled by the volume such a tiny human can produce, a bafflement I have gotten used to by now.

We go out, she eats her crackers and, now deflated, I decide to give it one more try.

We go into the water, she screams, we come out of the water and we go home.

Should have bought the smaller pack of swim diapers. 

Fast forward a month later, on a Saturday, we decide to hit the zoo.

It's all messed up, we leave too late, soon it will be nap time, the traffic is slow, it's all crowded.

I am cranky, trying to prepare myself for the disaster that's ahead of us.

I am already sorry we spent money on the tickets.

But then 30 minutes pass and it's all good.

And then another 30 minutes.

My daughter, although tired, is thrilled.

She wants to see it all.

She loves the flamingos and the elephants.

She is excited about the kangaroos.

I am amazed.

I actually take courage and start enjoying it myself.

We have lunch, we visit more animals and as the zoo announces it is now 6 pm and they need to close, my daughter falls asleep in my arms as we are on our way out. 

I've learned I simply cannot burden my child (and myself) with expectations of blissful trips and visits.

I've learned to handle my disappointment when things don't go as planned. 

Sometimes it's hard but that's not her fault. 

And, most importantly, I've learned that we might not have a good time all the time but we definitely will on a different occasion, when mommy might not even expect it. 

Dear unborn baby

Dear unborn baby,

I am writing to you to tell you I am sorry you can't be here today.

I am truly sorry you were not given the chance. 

The world is a lesser place because you are not here anymore.

Your absence echoes in my ears when I have the patience to listen.

I am sorry your mommy decided not to have you.

I know you don't understand why. 

She thought this was best for her or you or both of you. 

Yes, I know she should have protected you and cherished you and took on the world for you.

Regardless of her reasons, I want you to know this:

It's not your fault.

You are truly wonderful and innocent. 

You are unique, valuable and important. 

I know you were safe for a while.

Tiny and eager to live. 

Here, in the big world, we have tiny bugs as big as you were who fight with all their being for their life. 

I know you were even more eager than that. 

You were in the best place ever.

Mommy's tummy.

I know it hurt when they took you out.

I know you were scared.

I am sorry, little baby.

I wish I could have snapped my fingers and taken you in.

We have a house, enough space, a two year old who thinks she has it all figured out, a pear tree and lots of pretty flowers.

I am sorry you will not know of such things.

I am sorry your tiny body was treated disrespectfully, thrown out or sold for money.

I assure you, angel, many people would have been proud and blessed to be your mommy and daddy, people who have been waiting for a long time to have a family.

There are folks who are trying to help, who want this to stop. 

Who know you are the next generation and we can't act like we can just wipe you out, like we are the only ones on this planet.

Not everybody cares, not everyone understands and I am sorry for that too. 

The most difficult thing in the world is to change someone's heart. 

I wish this world was perfect. Mommies could just have their babies and raise them and love them.

But it's not, little one. 

It's a very strange place where people argue and discuss and attack each other and insult each other and they cannot agree about you and who you are. 

I am sorry nobody will get to hold you.

I am sorry you won't have a name.

I am sorry you are labeled as a "fetus", "product of conception" or other terms.

I am sorry you won't grow up to be a painter, a teacher, a sales representative or whatever you would have liked to be. 

I am sorry the world has decided you are not needed, you are disposable.

You are needed. You were needed. 

You are important. 

You are perfect, a true biological miracle in whom a whole molecular and cellular universe worked unceasingly just to create your beating heart at 5 weeks. And that was just the beginning. 

As I write this, my daughter is sleeping in her crib.

She has 2 pillows, 3 baby blankets, a ball and a plastic bottle that she demands every night before going to bed.

She is the best thing in my life and I don't deserve her. 

Having her is superior to everything else. 

Everything pales in comparison.

I am sorry you were not given the chance to life.

To show the world and the people around you what a blast you could be. 

It will end one day. I hope to see you then. 

I am sending you all my love and I pray every day that God blesses you, your mom and dad and every little baby who was not given the chance to just be.

For anyone who wishes to pray for the little ones who never had a voice, here is a prayer:

Heavenly Father, 
Thou hast given us the gift of freedom 
to love and to follow in Thy ways and commands. 
Some parents choose to abuse this freedom 
by destroying the gift of life 
which Thou hast given to their offspring. 
Please forgive those who destroy human life 
by aborting their unborn babies. 
Give these unborn children the opportunity 
to enjoy Thee for all eternity, 
if it according to Thy ordinance. 
Assist me in being one in solidarity with Thy little ones 
by taking to heart the words of Thy Son, 
"whatever you did for one of these least brothers of Mine, 
you did for Me." (Mt. 25:40) 
Therefore, allow me today, Father, 
to adopt spiritually an unborn child 
and to offer my prayers, works, 
joys and sufferings for that little one, 
so that child will be able to be born and live 
for Thy greater honor and glory. 
We pray this in Jesus' name, 
in union with the Holy Spirit one God forever and ever.

.

Why reading too much parenting advice can be bad for you

I read a couple of parenting articles online 3 weeks after my daughter was born.

I was trying to find something to help ease her colic and reduce the amount of crying that was going on in our house.

As the months went by and some issues resolved themselves, while new ones kept popping up, I kept reading books and articles recommended by friends and family who swore these were awesome materials with real, useable advice.

As I read on, everything made sense.

Each book was logical and nicely written and very convincing.

And each one would contradict the one before and still be logical and nicely written and very convincing.

There was not much agreement among them.

Except for one thing: whatever you are doing, you are sending a message to your child with your behaviour and your words and potentially damaging your child unless you do things the "right" way.

And the "right" way changed with each article and book I read.

I'll give you some examples.

1. Time-outs

A lot of the advice out there says time-outs are a good and gentle approach when used correctly.

And then there is the other camp that says a time-out is symbolic abandonment, rejecting your child because of the "bad behaviour" and withdrawing your love.

Kids learn nothing from it. 

They think about how unfair it is and not about how to make things right. 

2. Giving choices

It's good to give a child choices. Let her choose between two things (not more) so she feels that she has some control, some authority in this world in which she is rather small. The blue shoes or the sandals, an apple or a mango, cherry or vanilla yoghurt, sitting or standing in the stroller, going to the park or the zoo etc.

Or not.

Letting a child choose between things all the time tires her and also makes her feel entitled to choices all the time, even in situations when there are no other options. According to some experts, it's better for mom or dad to make most choices so the child knows they are in charge, she can depend on them and that, ultimately, what they say goes, there's no negotiating for every trip and every food and every pair of shoes.

3. Say "yes" to your child as much as you can

This way, she will learn to say a lot of "yes" to you in return and she won't have a meltdown when you say "no" because you will only say it when it really matters.

In our case, this did not work out so well.

My saying a lot of yes, resulted in my daughter demanding more and more.

More toys to take on a ride, more stuff to go to bed with, more stories etc. and all in all more mess. And consequently, more need for me to set more limits (two toys for the ride, 3 bed time stories and so on and so forth).

Also, when I had to say "no", my daughter did not seem to be able to handle it without rolling on the floor.

So much for that theory.

4. Counting to 3

A great option. It gives the child a warning and some time to make the right decision on his own.

Not according to other experts.

Who say counting to 3 is harsh and threatening. Like a terrible consequence will follow.

5. Consequences

Basically, they suck. They are a fancy word for punishment.

"Stop it or there will be a consequence!".

Unless you are reading a different book that says consequences are the best way to teach a child that his decisions have certain results, good or bad.

And then of course, there are whole books just about efficient and inefficient consequences. 

6. Defiance and tantrums

These are the child's way of asking for help.

His emotions are out of whack and he doesn't understand what's happening so he lashes out.

Connect with the child. Talk to him about his feelings. Hug him. Tell him what he is feeling now is anger or disappointment or whatever and it is ok (but at the same time explain that hitting when angry is not ok).

Let him know this is all normal and he is not a bad person because he is angry or upset.

Or you could go with another approach that says talking to the child all the time and analyzing his feelings is counterproductive. Tell him to "Knock it off! We don't hit people!" and then give him a time-out to cool down and get himself together again. Long speeches and explanations are tiring and difficult to follow for a little one. Don't be harsh, don't yell but be firm and in charge. The child needs it. With too much feeling analyzing, he will just miss the whole point that hitting is bad.

7. Being there for your child

Be there. Help when you can. All the way, throughout all the years.
This way, your child will have a solid foundation to grow on and rely on.
He knows he can turn to you and you will be there.
He will not have memories of a criticizing mother or an absent father, of a parent who "just didn't get it" and didn't take pains with helping him out about the things that were important to him. Which is great.
Or not.
Because apparently, overparenting is a thing and it's not pretty.
When kids don't experience any discomfort because mommy and daddy always help him out, he will feel lost as an adult. He will feel empty and lacking basic problem-solving skills, resilience or perseverance. 

These are just a few examples. The list is endless.

You will find any parenting advice you can think of and the opposite of that and then the opposite of that.

The result of which is the post-modern super-confused mother who sees her kid refuse to get in the carseat (again) and wonders why any of this crap isn't working.

Is it me?

Is it the "parenting method"?

Is it the kid and her personality?

It is the age/a phase?

All of them?

A combination of these?

I remember once telling another mom whose daughter is close in age to mine, that my kid had started with the tantrums right before turning 2. 

I told her I was at a loss because the meltdowns were so intense with my daughter banging her head against things in her anger.

The other mommy was shocked. Her daughter did no such things.

"You can't let her do that.", she said. "Tell her it's not nice. It's not allowed". 

It was not good advice, of course. 

But many of these books written by so-called experts contain advice that is either generally bad or bad for your situation. 

I don't read stuff like this anymore.

I scoff when people on facebook without kids argue about how bad parenting makes kids defiant when all they need is a bit more love, a bit more understanding. How parents just need to talk about feelings or man-up and be more severe.

When it comes to parenting, everyone seems to be an expert.

Everybody has theories and methods and ideas. 

And the easiest thing to do in this world is to label someone as a "bad parent" because they give time-outs.

Or because they don't give time-outs, depending which camp you are in. 

Sometimes nothing works. And that's what you can't read anywhere.

You can turn yourself into a puppy joggling psychologist in a princess costume and your kid still won't listen or throw a fit.  

On bad days I tell myself this. 

Today, it's just not working. 

And that's fine. 

I tell myself this before the urge to feel guilty sets in.

Or the urge to read another parenting book.

The heart of the matter

I usually write about the day to day life, joy and struggles of motherhood.

I don't dive into difficult, sensitive, complex subjects.

Like the right to own a gun.

Or the real price of cheap clothes.

Or high fructose corn syrup.

Or abortion.

This time, however I decided to write my thoughts on the latter.

These are just that.

My thoughts.

My opinions.

You can agree or disagree.

I am past that point of getting into endless debates, discussing various scenarios to prove one point or the other. 

I used to believe abortion was ok. 

After all, life is tough and hard and there are so many situations when expecting a child is the worst news you can possibly get or at least that's what you think.

Then, a few years ago I saw the movie "The Silent Scream" where an abortion is actually filmed with the help of the ultrasound.

I remember I broke down and cried.

A feeling of dread and indescribable pain came over me combined with a strong desire of protecting little ones.

It has never left me.

It only grew stronger over time. 

When I was pregnant with my daughter after a miscarriage, I was terrified I would lose her too. 

The doctors did extra tests and ultrasounds to make sure things were ok.

Which meant I got my first ultrasound very early. 

At 6 weeks and 5 days. 

My husband and I went in and I was scared, worried and a complete mess.

But things went well.

And on the screen, there it was, the thing we had been hoping and praying to see.

The baby's heart.

Beating away wildly with great passion and determination. 

I still have the picture. 

The next ultrasound was at 8 weeks.

Things were good.

The doctor jokingly said "Your gummy bear is just fine".

Because that's what she looked like back then with her tiny arms and legs. 

Sometimes when my daughter is asleep, nursing peacefully I lay my hand on her chest.

Her heart still strong, beating away, filled with life.

The same heart we saw more than 3 years ago.

I have no doubt in my mind that the tiny thing we saw at the beginning and at every consultation afterwards was my child.

She was just very little back then but already she had everything she needed to grow just like she does now when she is 2.5 years old. 

She had human DNA, a human's heart and at 8 weeks, a human head and limbs. 

Many will say a child is not a child at that stage.

Other words are used.

Like fetus and pregnancy.

Anything to distance ourselves from the reality of a "baby", "child" or "tiny human".

Because if we didn't, abortion would be unbearable. 

Many will say at this stage, the fetus is not a human.

But how can we trust our current definition of what being human means?

We used to define slaves as non-human.

Coloured people.

Jews.

Twins.

Homosexuals. 

Even women.

At some  point in history, all these categories were considered sub-human or non-human.

So now we have another category, the unborn child. 

And we're supposed to believe the arguments because...?

The relationship between a mother and a child is like nothing else in this world.

My daughter is my child, she lives in my house and eats my food (most of the time, anyway).

But she is not my person. I don't own her.

I never have.

She is just very very close to me at the beginning when she is in my tummy.

And then slowly she becomes more and more detached from me over the years.

My body is not only mine, it is hers as well during pregnancy.

Letting her be part of me is beautiful.

It is the most one can give another human being who is as defenseless as it can possibly be.

And the real test of being human is just this: how we treat those who depend on us completely, whom we have nothing to gain from, who cannot repay us, whom we can do anything we please with because we are all they know. 

They count on us so completely, it scares us. 

We have no choice but to show them who we really are.

We don't need to hide behind social norms, politeness, masks, flattery, give-and-take games. 

They just want us. 

Children.

Animals.

And sometimes the elderly. 

We can be cruel to them.

We can deny them anything, including life itself.

They cannot fight back. 

Or we can take them in.

Accept them.

Accept that life with them is worth more than life without them.

They ask a lot from us and by giving it to them, we will become more that we have ever thought possible. 

We have one more heart in the world we can love and who will love us back, one more heart to help heal when broken and who will help ours heal.  

May all hearts be blessed, big and small!

Blaming Mom

A couple of days ago I talked to my grandmother on skype.

She is 87 years old and quite amazing I might add.

She is my dad's mom and the only grandparent I have left.

She is energetic and kind and just really sweet.

We talked about a lot of things but one issue she mentioned really got me thinking.

It's a story I have heard many times before, as older people like to repeat the parts of their lives they find important.

She told me again about the time her mom (my great-grandmother) forced her to eat tomato soup because that was the rule at the table and how she got really sick after that.

And how her own grandmother came to her rescue by making it clear that forcing someone, especially a child, to eat like that is unacceptable.

My great-grandmother has been dead for 20 years.

Still, my grandma remembers stories like this very vividly and feels the need to tell them to me once in a while.

When I was little and would visit my grandma and my great-grandma who lived very close, I remember noticing how my grandma would be slightly irritated by her mom. Sometimes she would snap at her.

Then, when my great-grandma died, my grandma was devastated.

I recall her crying at the funeral, overcome with terrible grief and sadness.

I was 8 or 9 years old at the time and I clearly remember thinking "Why is she so sad? She was always so annoyed by her, by the things that she had hurt her with while growing up and afterwards".

There was a similar pattern with my mom and her own mother.

Whenever she came over to talk to my mom there would be arguments.

Not real loud fights or anything but arguments nonetheless.

My mom would be irritated and even angry.

I know many of my mom's stories about the ways her mom had failed her, hurt her or disappointed her and some of those are not nice stories at all hence why she remembers them.

Then, when my maternal grandma died and I came home from college for the funeral, I found my mom in an unrecognizable state.

She was a shadow of herself.

I did not understand why she was so devastated when they never seemed to get along and there were those deep wounds that never seemed to heal.

Fast forward to the present day, I so happened to bump into some articles about motherhood that somehow all ended up about being the shortcomings of different mothers.

An article about how someone sat on a train and was shocked to see a mom read a book and not interact with her 10 year old son.

A discussion about a movie and how the mom was to blame because she had encouraged the child to put on a happy face in a difficult situation (thus indirectly prompting the child to repress some emotions).

Another article about how someone called the police on a mom who was trying to strap her screaming tantruming toddler in a stroller.

All this made me think about my own mom.

Do I blame her for things?

Yes, I do.

Do I remember vividly the times when she snapped at me, yelled at me, ignored me in a critical moment, criticized me or hurt me in any way?

Yes, very clearly.

My mom failed me quite a few times.

How could she not?

She is only human.

And throughout a lifetime, you have many opportunities to fail the people you love and you will fail them, unavoidably.

Could she have done worse?

Oh yes, very much so.

But somehow it seems that in today's world when we know so much about psychology and how wounds from the past shape us and sometimes incapacitate us, it is so very easy to look back and say:

I am like this because my mom did or did not do something for me.

She really hurt me and some sides of me suffered and I became different.

Smaller, cheaper, not whole

She can rightly be blamed.

There were others too, but she started it.

For some people, the things that were done to them are tragic.

But even those from "regular families" have their big bag of hurtful things to carry.

My daughter is two and a half.

I often think of myself as the memory I will be for her in the future.

I wonder what she will see me like, remember me like.

She cannot remember things yet and already I know I have started building her bag.

She can already blame me for failing her at times when I was impatient or angry or indifferent.

I am sure she will have a lot more to blame me for when she is older.

It will be her choice whether to do that or not.

I try to be a good mom, a present mom.

But I also want to set an example by telling her about the amazing things my own mom has done for me.

I might tell her when she is older that my mom gave me time-outs when I was little and would lock me in my room and I would be completely terrified and thinking she left and didn't love me anymore (mind you, many books still say this a good way to discipline a child); and that that is why I would never do that to her.

But mostly, I want to tell her how my mom was wonderful in her support in everything I did and the way she took care of me when I was sick and would listen to me talk about my crushes, my grades, my friends, my teachers and my homework.

I haven't seen my mom in year, we live so far away.

Our talks on skype are sometimes nice and sometimes can feel like a chore which is sad.

But sometimes, like yesterday, we talk for two hours and I feel I can tell her about my worries, my struggles and my problems.

Because she is there. She's always been there.

And I am tired of blaming mom.

Because, honestly, it's not fair that our emotional memory remembers the bad things so easily and so vividly and takes the good moments for granted.

I hope when my daughter is 87 and she talks to someone about me she will say

"My mom, she was completely absent/hurtful that time when things were bad.

But the next time she was there. And the time after that. And I am glad she was."

When Mommy and Kiddo are out of sync

Today's been one of those off days.

When, despite my best efforts and intentions, my moods don't match my daughter's moods and we end up clashing multiple times throughout the day.

So by the time she is asleep I feel a bit sad.

And a bit nostalgic.

And a bit confused.

I keep thinking about what went wrong, what I could have and should have done differently. 

And then I end of thinking deep thoughts about raising children.

And the passing of time.

And mortality.

Stuff like that. 

Before I had kids, my head was filled with all these ideas about what me and my child/children would do together one day.

I am not sure where I got them... movies, books, my own childhood, friends...

Suffice to say, my vision of what it meant to be with my child was born a long time ago.

And it is on days like today that my vision gets chipped at and needs readjustment or postponing or even a rewrite. 

I will give you some examples.

Not all of them are from today but quite a few are.

I like to dance. I always have.

I am pretty good at it too. 

So sometimes, when the moment is "just right", I start dancing in the house and I don't even notice. 

A children's song might be playing or something on the radio or just something in my head.

Inevitably, my daughter will say: "Mommy, please don't dance". 

Very matter of factly. Very politely. 

I don't know why it annoys her. 

But it does. 

Every time. 

If I try to get her to do a silly dance with me right there in the kitchen, she gets very upset. 

I always imagined me and my kids dancing together around the house.

Inventing crazy moves. 

Stuff like that.

Maybe one day.

It's the same with singing.

Loud Baby simply can't stand it.

Not even if I hum. 

"Mommy, don't sing, please".

I can't explain it, but it breaks my heart.

I always thought my child would love to listen to my songs and be soothed by them.

I am not Celine Dion but there are songs that I can sing well. 

And my daughter is not 14, she is 2. 

Am I embarrassing her already?

The problem is that even if I explain to her that Mommy likes to sing/dance and you can't demand that she stops, the moment is gone.

I don't feel like dancing or singing anymore anyway. 

Or she doesn't like hugs much and I am crazy about them.

Or I want to show her something fun and she refuses to even come take a look. 

Or I am all excited about a new place I've found (a park, an outdoor swimming pool, a zoo) and she hates it and cries throughout our whole outing. 

Or I want to tell her all the ways in which I love her (as much as the moon, as much as a huge cherry) and it just makes her cranky and she screams "Noo". 

How can we be so out of synch, I wonder. 

So I take a deep breath, accept that she is just not in the mood for all of my silliness and lovey-loveyness and try to get down to business.

I start cooking, I shoot up the laptop to do some budgeting, I clean up or I make a call that's been long due. 

After 4 minutes, my daughter makes her appearance along with her 394 demands.

"Mommy, come chase me".

"Mommy, where is my ball?"

"Mommy, come build tower".

"Mommy, I want apple/yoghurt/crackers".

"Mommy, where is XYZ wooden figurine? Help me find."

"Mommy, put on music, please, the one with the frogs".

"Mommy, tell story with red bicycle" (I tell that one at least 10 times every day). 

"Mommy, read this and this and that book and then that one again". 

"Mommy" x 148.

Of course, I feel like doing exactly zero of all of these.

I give her the snack, put on the music, try to remember where the freakin' wooden figurine might be (again).

I tell her I will finish the food/call/work on the computer and then we will 

play/read/build.

"No. Now!!" 

A mixture of anger, annoyance and sadness take shape.

Maybe I'm raising a brat.

Maybe she's just tired.

Maybe she's being two.

Maybe she's hungry already.

Maybe it's a cranky day.

Maybe my mother-in-law was right and I messed up badly along the way. 

Should I reason with her?

Should I be stern?

Should I acknowledge her frustration and work through it? 

(Is something burning? Did I set the kitchen  timer?

Are all moms a mess like me in moments like these?).

My daughter wants me badly. 

She needs me because she is little and little ones need their parents.

But she needs me on her own terms. 

Which are not my terms, most of the time.

So we clash. 

I reason, she understands and waits.

And then she doesn't. 

I give warnings.

I tell her we will go to the playground after lunch.

"No playground".

"No underwear"

"No, I don't want T-shirt with mermaid"

"No carseat".

"No slide" (after dragging me to go with her on the slide).

"No, it is not too high" (when I tell her not to climb something that is too high off the ground).

"No, mommy not tired" (after I tell her I feel tired).

By the time my husband is home, I am ready with a begging speech to ask him to do the bedtime routine although it is my turn tonight. 

And when it's finally quiet and I feel a bit empty, a bit disoriented but also a bit happy that everyone's made it through the day, I also wonder where the line is between being an involved parent and a slave to a child-king. 

Where am I situated?

What should I change?

And while I figure it out, while everyone is already asleep, I might just put on my headphones and listen to some music.

And I might even dance just a bit. 

 

 

No drama Momma

A friend  of mine dropped in one afternoon.

The apartment was clean, almost all the toys were in their place and I had recently finished vacuuming.
"Wow, your place looks great.", she said.

On a different day the same friend (also a mommy) stopped by with some toys she was lending us. 

This time, the place was a mess. Toys everywhere, some clothes here and there. 

My daughter and I were sitting on the floor building a tower of blocks.

"Wow girls, you look like you're having a lot of fun", she said.

There are people who will always find something nice to say to you regardless of who you are and what you are doing. They lift you up and are a pleasure to be around because you feel safe. They won't judge you for your messy living room, your screaming child or your parenting methods. They won't judge other parents and non-parents alike.

After my previous post about "Why mom can't do it all", I received two kinds of messages. 

Messages of appreciation and messages from outraged moms who thought the post was the rant of a brat.

I was told to grow-up.

To get a job.

To stop being self-indulgent.

To stop being a martyr and make other moms look bad with my whining. 

To just figure it out and suck it up and be the parent I needed to be. 

To not have meltdowns. 

To stop blogging and then I might get more done around the house. 

I have one child who sleeps at night and a husband. 

Hence, I have to be able to do it all.

I was told moms do nothing but whine lately and write about how hard it is for them when all they are doing is a simple job. 

It's not that hard, they said.

They themselves work and have time to cook every day.

Or they stay at home and enjoy it and it's no big deal to them.

They don't scream at their kids. 

They don't slam doors.

And that is, I think, really awesome, that they can do it like that.

 It's just parenting, it's not rocket science. They say. 

And they are right.

It's not rocket science.

I could blog about other things than the hardships of parenting (or at least, what I consider hardships). 

But being a parent is, right now, the most important aspect of my life and that is what fills my head and my heart. 

So that's what I write about.

Are there too many blogs out there of the sort with moms "whining" like me?

Probably.

I wonder why. 

Could it be because in real life it is hard to find a friend you can actually tell "Look, I messed up the other day. I feel like I suck as a parent. And being a good parent is the most important thing to me right now"- without wondering if they will judge you, without wondering if they will frown and say "Lady, figure it out. You're an adult". 

Because most of us are parents and have strong opinions about parenting.

I could write about the joys of staying up until 3 a.m. studying for exams but that wouldn't interest too many people. 

Anyway, when someone attacks you like that, your immediate instinct is to protect yourself.

You want to tell them why you can't have a job right now.

Or that you do cook every day most of the time.
Or that you blog once or twice per month. 
Or that most days are quite ok, there's no drama (except for toddler tantrums).
Or that you don't usually yell and you make it your goal not to.

Or that you don't have meltdowns all the time but it did happen and it was an awful day with tons of problems and an extremely cranky toddler.
Or that you chose to write about these worst moments to show that we are all vulnerable and sometimes maxed out, regardless of who we are and what we do.
Or that,as far as you can tell, every mom is simply trying to do her best with whatever financial and emotional resources she has. 

And none of it matters.

Because it all depends on what eye they are using to look at you.

If they use a good eye, they don't need your explanations.

Their assumptions about you are positive to begin with. 

If they use the evil eye, you can try to justify yourself all you want.

They will still find a way to judge. 

You can try to explain that not all kids are the same and yours is somewhat more difficult, more intense, more sensitive and more loud than others. 

According to them, it's your fault you are not handling it all smoothly all the time and now you complain about it. 

You are not doing it right. You are not enough.

Ending probably with a comment such as "Well then you shouldn't have had a kid in the first place if you have all these problems". 

These kind of words tap into every parent's greatest fear: that they are not good enough of a mom or a dad.  And they are also not allowed to say anything about this fear because they need to "grow up". 

I decide to choose a different approach.

When someone tells me about their problems/complains/whines (call it whatever you want), it will be a good test for me to see what kind of eye I can offer them. 

The good one or the evil one?

Do I have empathy even though I don't get their problems?

Do I have a good word although I don't completely understand their hardships?

If I think they are overreacting, do I care enough to get some more information or will I fill in the blanks by myself and give my conclusions?

If I think they are overreacting, can I tell them that in a kind, non-destructive way?
Or will I just see it as exaggerated momma drama?

What is one of the most important lessons I want to teach my child?

To be a good person, to be kind.  

We talk about it all the time.

Say "please" and "thank you".

Share. 

Baby Alex is sad. Go give him a hug.

Don't say mean words to other kids. 

Maybe we, as adults, need to say less mean things as well. 

Listen to our own advice to the little ones. 

We teach them to go beyond their first impulse of hitting or biting or screaming and find the right way to do things. 

So we, as adults, can practice going beyond our first impulse of judging and throwing rocks, think things through and find the compassion towards every person, child or grown-up alike.

Why Mom just can't do it all

 

As a stay-at-home mom, I put a lot of pressure on myself. 

I want to do it right, whatever that means.

I read stuff about what is good for kids physically and emotionally and when something makes sense, I try to implement it.

It gives me a feeling of success which, in all honesty, I badly need. 

Because the feelings of success that I had been used to before my daughter was born (finishing a project, getting a good grade, receiving an appreciative comment from a customer, getting my paycheck) are gone. 

All gone. 

Here are some of my findings. 

Findings that are basically the results of many studies conducted in many fields.

Mom should breastfeed. If she can. She should breastfeed for at least a year (although now the age is being pushed to two) and preferably even longer than that. Because breastfed babies are healthier and smarter. 

No pressure.

Mom should feed the child healthy food. Preferably organic. Preferably home cooked. No processed food. Mom should strive for 5-7 servings of veggies and fruits/day (according to the anti-cancer people).

Mom should not let child watch T.V. Zero before two years. Very little after that. Because it is simply bad for them. Like real bad. It will undermine their capacity to entertain themselves, to deal with boredom, to enjoy the slower pace of the real world. It will make them want stuff and more stuff by turning them into life-long consumers. Not pretty. They benefit more from playing with a rock in the garden.

Mom should make sure child gets enough sleep. Minimum 12 hours per day when 2 years old. Every hour lost over an extended period of time is a setback in brain development. No joke. 

Mom should strive to use non-plastic dishes and cups. Even BPA free sucks. Especially if heated up.  

Mom should consider carefully whether she will send her child to daycare. Psychologically, children are ready for daycare around age 4-5. The little ones show elevated stress hormones in the afternoon when they are in daycare and they do a lot better with one-on-one. Especially an introverted child who is not a big fan of loud groups.

And now comes the hard part (yes, only now).

Mom should strive to be an example for the child, a role-model. 

Not only in everyday habits like washing hands and cleaning up after ourselves.

But also in emotional management. 

Which is the most difficult of them all. 

Showing the child that when we are enraged, we breathe through it, we take a break, we acknowledge the anger but don't act on it. 

Showing the child that it's ok to be mad and sad and to cry and to let it all out because things have been building up inside for a while. 

These emotions are ok. 

Acting on them (throwing, hitting, swearing) is not. 

Teaching them this emotional management that many parents have never learned. 

Because when you were angry, you were "bad" and that was it.

Also, no yelling, no spanking, no punishments, no threats.

I know some may not agree but building a relationship on fear is not my goal. 

I don't want my child to be afraid of me because I am bigger and can make her do things she doesn't want to and I can punish her at any time.

I want her to do the things I ask for because we respect each other.

Utopia?

Maybe.

Some of the things I've mentioned are easy to do. 

I didn't like plastic to begin with, for example. 

But I can't do it all.

I can manage T.V. time (or computer time, to be more accurate since we don't have a T.V.). I used to play Baby Einstein for my daughter to get 25 minutes of peace.  

I only nurse once or twice/day and I would stop if I could (I think it's been enough as it is). 

I can try as hard as I want to have a regular bedtime and bed-routine, on some days it will still be a struggle. My daughter will go to bed late and invariably awake earlier than usual the next morning. 

If daycare was a possibility for us, I might try part-time.

Also, I can't have a piping hot home-cooked meal full of veggies every day.

But most of all, I cannot show my daughter how to manage her emotions all the time because I am still not able to manage my own. 

I will yell and will feel guilty about it and will apologize and will yell again.

I will have days when my meltdown might be just as bad as hers.

I will say some egregious threats in complete despair.

I will slam a door and scare her. And then feel like a looney. 

Children will always frustrate their parents.

However, parents will also frustrate their children with their flaws and shortcomings and inability to be kind, patient and loving in crucial moments. 

Because Mom simply cannot be perfect. 

She will serve microwave meals and ignore the child when she wants to finish her conversation on the phone.

She will choose formula after 3 months of terror and unbearable nipple pain.

She will put her child in daycare at 12 weeks because she wants to keep her job.

She will scream at her kids like a maniac because it's 9 p.m. and they have been ignoring her for the past 25 minutes. 

She will play Baby Einstein on her phone in the store because she wants to shop for 20 minutes in peace and actually be aware of what she is putting in her cart. 

She will snap at her child because she can't take another sentence uttered in the nerve-wrecking whining tone. 

Maybe one day the child will understand that you gave it your all even if it didn't seem like much back then. Maybe she won't. 

Either way, be kind to yourself. You are trying. 

And you are there even when it's all falling apart. 

And that's the most important lesson to teach.