Show Me The Money

After a long day of dealing with the kids yesterday I was getting close to my wits end. My daughter has hit the terrible two’s with both feet running. She keeps me on my toes as far as setting and enforcing limits as well as being a good example of the type of behavior I do want. The boys are simultaneously deep in training for the debate team and the wrestling team. By this I mean they are constantly fighting with each other, both physically and verbally. The mayhem takes its toll daily. By the time my husband returns from work I’m usually ready to retire and in need of some major back up.

In the middle of getting dinner ready last night I was pouring out my woes to my husband, filling him in on the day’s upheaval. I finished by declaring “I wish we lived in one of those countries where stay at home parents are paid. I mean I work so hard every day without any compensation. I’m a teacher, a life coach, a doctor, a personal chef, a chauffeur, a housekeeper, a cheerleader, a judge and a maintenance worker. Sheesh!”

As I spoke I released some of the tension I carried and felt better. I just needed to vent and get a little sympathy from another adult. The evening wore on and I never gave my conversation a second thought. But just before he went to bed, my oldest son, who is seven, came up to me ever so slightly sheepishly and extended his fist to me. It was full of coins. He said, “Mama, this is for you because you are such a good mom to us.”

He had overheard my earlier complaining and after contemplating his thoughts on the matter he decided to pay me for my work, from his own piggy bank. My heart melted. I felt so terribly guilty by my unnecessary behavior and yet so full of love for my thoughtful son. His handful of pennies and dimes was more than sufficient payment for all my years of hard labor. Of course, he needn’t pay me any amount of money at all, that wasn’t even really the point of my complaints, but his gesture of gratitude was all I needed to keep me going. A simple thank you or a hug of appreciation from my children is worth more to me than bags of gold for my work as a mother.

I am holding on to those pennies and dimes though! You never know when they’ll come in handy.

Precious Moments

Some of my most treasured moments as a mother are the simple ones. It doesn’t require bells and whistles to create precious memories with your children. In fact, the easy, seemingly mundane activities can have a more influential impact on your child as a person as well as strengthen your relationship with them. Here are a few examples of recent pastimes I’ve enjoyed with my children that stand out as special and memorable.

Last week my two younger children and myself embarked on a leisurely bike ride, something we do regularly. At the halfway mark we made a pit stop at a park in order to stretch our legs and play on the swings. The day was perfect, mid 80s, clear blue skies with a gentle, cooling breeze. We ended up playing a game of Duck, Duck, Goose in the shade, just the three of us, so obviously it was not a “real” game, just a fun diversion. My son, whenever he was “it”, would tag one of us as Goose and then tear across the park at full speed, not even attempting to complete the circle, as the game intends. My daughter and I got some nice sprints in while chasing him. When my daughter was “it” she not only took full pleasure in smacking us as hard as she could on the head as she called out either “uck” or “oose”, but when she chose a Goose, she ran around in circles until she fell from dizziness or from tripping over her own feet, heedless of whether or not she was tagged or even circling about us correctly. I’m usually a stickler for rules, but this day we played according to our own made-up-on-the-spot rules. I laughed so hard and my heart was full of joy watching my children in complete bliss absorbed as they were in our simple, messed up game of Duck, Duck, Goose.

My oldest, seven, true to his firstborn tendencies, is always looking out for his two younger siblings, as well as myself and his dad. He’s a pretty caring kid. He earns pretend money at school for turning in homework and good behavior which he is then able to use to buy items from the class store. Without fail he brings something home for his brother and his sister every week. It melts my heart. He is more excited about what he shares with them than with what he gets for himself. He takes great pains in selecting items he thinks they will appreciate and explains his picks to me before passing them on. A couple weeks ago he also gave me a dollar from his own piggy bank telling me as he handed over the bill, “Mama, you get so many things for me I want you to get something for yourself now. Here’s some money. Go get something nice.” I almost cried.

My daughter watches me get ready every morning. She has my routine down cold. She turns on the hair dryer for me, she hands me the hair clips I use at the appropriate times as I dry my hair in sections, then she gets my make-up out of the bag for me in the order I apply it. She does all of this without me asking or prompting! She anticipates my next need and supplies it. If I ever forget and reach for an item on my own she flips out and scolds me. It is adorable.

My middle child is expressive and impulsive. If he likes something he exclaims it with gusto. I often hear him saying things like, “What a beautiful day it is today!” and “Mama, I love you so much!” or “This is the bestest dinner I’ve ever had!” His simple, yet completely sincere words brighten my day every time.

I help my oldest son with his homework and reading every day. Although homework has never been a point of interest for me, I have come to cherish this daily time with him. It’s just the two of us working on his knowledge and skills. Witnessing him learn and progress is thrilling and brings me much pride in his accomplishments and improvements. I can see his wheels turning as he muddles over a math problem and I beam with joy as he seemingly effortlessly reads advanced books. What a miracle it is to observe my child growing in all facets of life day by day.

On Top Of The World

"I’m on the top of the world, looking down on creation…"

Wow, there is nothing that compares to the feeling of being hurled through the sky towards earth. It is almost indescribable, but I will attempt to accurately share what the skydiving experience was like for me (I just went this past weekend!).

Firstly, my nerves never ceased. I was nervous for several weeks leading up to the jump as well as throughout the actual jump itself! The nerves were a constant companion. However, they did not consume me. I worked hard at keeping them at bay and relaxing myself. I made the decision that I was going to enjoy myself and have fun with the whole adventure, despite my anxieties.

A few days before the jump I began to mentally prepare myself. I envisioned falling through the sky with a smile on my face. I tried to feel the wind against my body and see the world grow larger before my eyes as I floated closer and closer to the ground. My heart would race and I’d stifle a small panic during these mental images, but I continued with slow, deep breaths to remain as calm as possible.

The night before my big leap of faith (trust me it is definitely that!) I ran through three possible scenarios in my head, beginning with me walking towards the plane and ending with me landing on solid ground. The first scenario I imagined the worst: my parachute failed to open and I died. I let myself feel the feelings of knowing I was going to die and allowed those last thoughts to float through my head. When I finished I had tears in my eyes. I moved on to scenario two. This is where my parachute opens and it all goes off without a hitch but I was so frightened I didn’t allow myself to enjoy anything. I was withdrawn and somber, face drawn tight with worry. I landed with relief but also with a sense of having lost out on something spectacular. I then began scenario three in which I embraced the day and went for it full steam ahead, determined to enjoy and make the most of this gift. I was nervous to be sure, but excited and ready as well. This scenario, out of all three, felt the best within me. This third visualization was the most comfortable one, it just felt right.

Therefore I made the simple conclusion that this is how I was going to face the day. I wasn’t going to deny or suppress my nerves, I couldn’t get rid of them, but I wasn’t going to let them dictate either. I would focus on my strength, my excitement, my anticipation and go for it!

In the morning when I awoke I inserted earphones and listened to a short, calming meditation all the while invoking feelings of peace, focus, and anticipation for the excitement that lay ahead. I listened to it once more just before getting in the car in an attempt to focus my thoughts and set a clear intention for what lay ahead.

My method worked! I was nervous as all hell but I did it with a huge smile on my face. I even have video to prove it! I alternated between screaming and laughing all the way down. Well, in the beginning it was mostly just screaming. That free fall is insane! It was so surreal, I couldn’t believe I was actually falling through the sky without any sort of container or vehicle. It was just me, Mark the instructor, and the parachute, a tiny dot in the vast blueness, almost impossible to locate. I was later told they knew where I was because of all the screaming but they couldn’t see me till I dropped a few thousand feet. A massive rush of adrenalin hit me hard, compelling me to yell over and over, “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” Actually it was more like, “Ahhhhhh!!!!! Oh my gosh! Ahhhhhh!!!!! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Ahhhhhh!!!!!!” We were even spinning round and round like a top during the free fall. Mark raised one hand and we spun to the right. I screamed even louder. He stabilized us for a split second then raised his other hand and we flew to the left, the earth speedily circling below me. My brain was telling me it was madness, my heart was jumping for joy with pure exhilaration.

Seconds later (it felt like an eternity) Mark pulled the chute and I was jerked upright. This initiated our peaceful, graceful descent. I felt weightless, like a feather, gently drifting down, down. I tugged on a rope and we swung around to the right again, spinning and spinning like the teacups, only it was just me, I was free in the air, flying, floating, gliding. Again a powerful sense of surrealness enveloped me. Was this really happening? It was dreamlike, but not hazy or distant as dreams can sometimes be, it was jolting, it was electrifying, it was energizing. I was still shaken with fright but awed by my impossible reality. This is where the laughs came in (alternating with the screams). Laughs of amazement, of joy, of delight, of exhilaration, of disbelief.

I should note that during my descent I intentionally and forcefully expunged all thoughts of doom and disaster from my head. If any sort of negative thought began to form I immediately shut it out and replaced it with one of excitement, exhilaration or joy. I was determined to permit only good thoughts to flow. This was key. If I hadn’t done this I would have panicked for sure.

When my feet finally touched the graveled ground I could barely contain myself. I felt like I had conquered the world! It was incredible! The feeling of astonishment at what I had accomplished poured through my core, mixed with pride, joy, satisfaction, exuberance, and appreciation all powered by a huge sense of relief that I had made it safely. I was thrilled to be alive, I was thrilled to embrace my children as they ran to greet me, and I was thrilled by the extreme experience. My body shook with emotion and adrenalin, as though I had worked out hard for an hour, drank five cups of coffee and then learned that I won the lottery. I was one happy girl! What an incredible experience!

"My Body Just Felt Like It"

I was sitting eating lunch with my 23 month old daughter. Her face and hands were plastered with red sauce as she happily devoured a plateful of spaghetti, with carrot sticks on the side. I was enjoying left over grilled chicken and a salad. About half way through lunch I noticed the house was suspiciously quiet. My middle child, who just turned five, refrained from joining us for lunch stating he was not yet hungry. The three of us normally eat our midday meal together but on occasion my son just isn’t hungry. No big deal, I just whip him up a plate later.

Today, however, instead of playing with toys or talking to us as we ate, he managed to disappear, undetected. I called for him and a minute later he materialized before me, saying “Mama, someone, NOT me, wrote with marker upstairs. NOT me, I don’t know who it was.” Obviously this adamant denial about an occurrence I knew nothing about triggered some major alarms in my head. “What happened?”, I asked. “Someone, I don’t know who, but it wasn’t me, wrote with marker upstairs. It was NOT me.” More alarms began to sound. I must admit that this statement had me somewhat confused. My kids rarely intentionally destroy the house, or any sort of property for that matter. Of course they have many times but it’s usually accidental. Their preferred form of misbehavior is to fight with each other. I am constantly working with them on name calling and physically hurting one another. But deliberately ruining an item then outright lying about it is not typical for them. Still, I was pretty convinced he was guilty of the crime.

“Where did you see the marker?” At this point he actually handed me a marker, a black Sharpie (oh, great) that he’d been holding behind his back. “Here.” He plopped it in my hand. “Is this the same one the person used to draw?” I asked. “Yes.” Now I am convinced of his guilt. “And exactly where did they draw?” He shifted uneasily but I gave him the mom glare with a slight tilt of my head indicating I was not messing around and he better answer me now, thank you very much! “Um, um…” He stalled. I tilted my head further. “Um, on the mattress and on the bathroom floor.” I leaned down and looked at him directly in his eyes. “You did it, didn’t you?” I asked. His better judgment finally emerged and he confessed.

I exhaled loudly and deeply but surprisingly didn’t get upset. I was more focused on the fact that I wanted to keep eating so I told my son to wait and show me the markings after the meal. He sat on the floor behind me. A few minutes later I looked over at him. He had a most peculiar look on his face, as though he were staring off into space, deep in thought. “What are you thinking about?” I asked. “Nothing.” He replied and grinned, having been caught thinking this secret thoughts. “Are you thinking about how you’re going to be in trouble?” I inquired. “No”, he said, “I’m not getting in trouble.” This answer caught me off guard. I thought for sure he was busy running all the possible scenarios of discipline through his head. “Oh, you’re not?” I asked curiously. “Are you sure about that? Did you do something naughty?” The grin faded from his face and he replied, “Yes.” He looked very sheepish now. “And when you are naughty you are disciplined, right?” His head lowered, “Yes” he whisperd.

I completed my lunch, cleared the table and cleaned up my messy daughter. My son raised his head and I saw huge tears in the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill over. “Mama”, he croaked, “My stomach feels scared.” I quickly stifled a giggle at his expression and said, “Well, yes, that happens when we know we are in trouble. Let’s go upstairs now and you can show me what you did.”

We walked into the bedroom. He pointed out the squiggles he drew on the mattress. It wasn’t very bad, hardly noticeable. “Ok” I said evenly, “Now show me the bathroom floor.” The door to the bathroom was pulled shut. He opened it and looked down. Three dark circles were drawn in the middle of the floor. “Why did you do this?” I asked, incredulous. He started to cry then shrugged and said “My body just felt like it.”

Again I forcefully refrained from smiling and instead dealt with the issue. He had to clean up the marker, all by himself (yes, it was hard work for him, but that was the point) then he was further disciplined for lying to me. I made a clear distinction between the two. He had two separate punishments for two separate acts. After completing his discipline he was back to his normal sweet self within a matter of minutes.

I understand the kid though, it is hard to fight tempting urges when the body just feels like it, but acting on these urges does come with consequences, for all of us.

Facing Your Fears

OMG!!!

My heart is racing, I am flustered, I am nervous, I am scared out of my mind, to the point where I am actually shaking and all I did to induce this state was make a phone call! Ok, not just any phone call, as you can probably guess, it was extremely nerve racking. I just made an appointment to go skydiving!

My husband “gifted” me with a skydiving jump for my birthday. I use quotations because I would NEVER purchase a jump on my own. I am terrified by the mere thought of willingly (or not so willingly) hurling myself out of a plane, thousands of feet above the solid earth. I mean yeah, the remote idea of free falling through the air does have an exciting ring to it and yes it actually does look like fun when I witness other people doing it on TV. However, entertaining a casual thought about an adventure and being face to face with it are two entirely different things. I now have a reservation with a date and a time. It is very official. This is happening, thus the racing heart and shaking limbs.

My husband keeps telling me I’ll love it, it will be a super high, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. He went skydiving a few years back for his birthday, but he’s an adrenalin junkie and thrives on adventure of all types. My dad went last year for his birthday as well. He was extremely nervous beforehand, as I am now, but also tells me I’ll love it. He did. Just prior to going up he was close to vomiting, but when it was over he was overflowing with exuberance and contagious energy. He loved it.

I’m pretty confident my experience will be similar to my dad’s and logically thinking, when it’s over and I’m safe and sound on the ground, I know I’ll be glad I faced my fears and went for it. I do enjoy excitement, thrill and adventure. But there is something horrifically unnatural about a human being falling through the sky. We aren’t made to fly and my brain knows it! Every fiber of my being is screaming “This is ludicrous!! Save yourself! DO NOT JUMP you suicidal maniac!”

I have nightmare visions of my parachute failing to open (the backup chute fails as well in this dream) and I die a gruesome death, gone in the blink of an eye, never to see my family again, never able to realize my life potential or be there for my children as they grow. I know, it’s a horrible vision! Who thinks like this? Well, I do. I rarely focus on doomsday scenarios as I consider them a complete waste of time and mental capabilities, yet in this instance I can’t stop! It seems as though I’m willingly and knowingly putting myself in a death trap.

Now if I take a step back and contemplate this rationally I know that overall skydiving is pretty safe. There are tons of precautions taken and I am strapped to a professional. I also know that my life can end at any given time for any given reason. There is no guarantee that I will live through the day, any day. However, I NEVER entertain this thought. I never consider the fact that today might be my last day. It’s a ridiculous way to live.

Since the idea of skydiving scares the crap out of me and yet I am choosing to do it, I am indeed facing my fears. I believe that we should face our fears because usually they are unwarranted and only serve to hold us back from accomplishment and growth. Therefore I support the notion. However now that I am facing one of my own fears I am truly terrified and I must admit, I do want to bow out and continue on with my life as is. But there is a small part of me, a teeny tiny part, deeply hidden way down in there, that is cheering enthusiastically, encouraging me to go for it and have some major fun! This is the part of me that is ready to overcome this fear, to grow, to mature, to experience and consequently enhance my life on a variety of levels afterward.

Since I want to live the fullest life I possibly can, I choose to listen to my itsy-bitsy cheering section and jump out of the stupid plane. (Oh man, it better be worth it!) Of course I do have some motivation in the form of an there-is-no-way-you’re-getting-out-of-this plan to ensure I actually appear on the scheduled date and time: a friend is jumping with me! My husband knows me well, I need this motivation! I think she’s there to actually physically push me out of the plane if I have second thoughts. We all need friends like this, right?

So, I encourage you too to face your fears as they appear in your life. Grab a buddy who will hold your hand on the way up then push you out of the plane at the appropriate time. As long as you live through it (and chances are very good that you will) you’ll be happy you jumped!This is what I'm telling myself anyway... :)

Not A Laughing Matter (well it kind of is)

What do you do when as a parent you see your own inappropriate behavior displayed in your children?

My middle child has recently developed the habit of laughing when he’s being disciplined. He is not trying to be disrespectful, this is just the response discipline is currently triggering in him. How do I know this? Because I used to do the very same thing! As a child, even in to my teenage years I would burst into giggles at the most inopportune moments. I never meant it as disrespect, but certain instances would ignite laughter nearly impossible to hold back. For instance, the time I was singing a duet in church (there were a few years way back when I thought I could sing) and totally sang the wrong part. Instead of continuing despite the slight mishap like most people would do, I began to giggle and proceeded to sing/laugh for the remainder of the number. Or one of the many times in school I was caught talking when I should have been listening. If the teacher called me on it I my shoulders would start shaking and the laughter would well up inside me.

I do not know why this happened. I never intended it as rudeness. I didn’t intend for it at all, it just spontaneously erupted. It wasn’t my typical response to embarrassment or scolding but it occurred often enough to present a problem. I did my best to will myself to stop but I rarely succeeded.

Now my son who is 4 (days away from turning 5!) is following in my footsteps. I see it in his face. I know he’s doing his best to gain control and listen intently to my words, but the chuckles are a mighty force to be reckoned with. I understand this entirely so even though I get annoyed since it seems as though he’s being outright defiant, I overlook the shaking shoulders and stifled giggles and focus solely on the incident or behavior I am addressing. Of course when I‘m done doing my parental duty I tell him to stop laughing, but I know he physically can’t.

The worst part about all of this is that every time he starts laughing I want to laugh too! Being a grown adult and a seasoned parent I am able to control myself and maintain my composure, but man is it hard! I am so tempted to join in! It literally takes all of my well groomed willpower to deny myself the urge to laugh. The corners of my mouth twitch in protest. I’ve even had to look away for fear of caving.

How can I instruct my child on more appropriate responses when he’s being guided or disciplined when I can’t even do it myself? I guess some reflexes are so ingrained in us they continue to require conscious efforts to master even after years of work. I don’t know…. Any suggestions?

No Way, Jose!!!

This past weekend my oldest son participated in a soccer tournament for the second time. We belong to a recreational league so tournaments are not a part of our soccer system. However he has had the opportunity to join a competitive tournament with his recreational team twice. I blogged a while back about the first tournament. It was painful and joyful at the same time. Our guys got the crap beat out of them repeatedly. They played well, they worked hard, they had admirable attitudes, but they just didn’t measure up. There are many different factors that contributed to this but bottom line is they were outplayed.

This weekend was different. In fact it was 180 degrees different. Our recreational team beat the pants off of every team they faced. They didn’t just win, they annihilated. Everyone, ourselves included, was blown away. Our boys improved leaps and bounds in just a matter of months. No one could believe that our little rec league team from nowhere showed up completely unknown and actually swept the tournament. It was surprise, elation, joy, disbelief, pride, excitement, entertainment, appreciation all rolled into one. A movie-worthy weekend.

But here is the part that stuck out to me the most. Yes, it was AWESOME to witness our team kick some butt. However, this fun is not the feeling that has stuck with me throughout the week. These past few days I’ve been contemplating some major differences between our team and the teams we competed against.

Our boys received constant positive feedback, both from the coaches and the spectators. We cheered and encouraged relentlessly throughout each game. This is nothing new for us. We do the same thing during each of their normal soccer games played at our rec league. Our coaches and parents for all our teams provide a consistent positive learning environment for the players. In our league we believe that this is the best and most effective means of teaching. We further believe that this approach will have positive long lasting effects on the child. We groom, we guide, we encourage. Within this framework there is also room for correction and discipline. We do not permit any degree of unsportsmanlike conduct, yet our focus is highly geared towards positive reinforcement.

During the tournament I was shocked to see and hear quite the opposite from the opposing teams. Their side only cheered when a goal was made. One coach yelled repeatedly at his team that they were better than us and they should easily beat us (we could hear every word). Many of their players unnecessarily roughed up our boys and used excessive force (I understand that some physicality is expected but trust me, this was well beyond the norm). One player was ejected from the game completely and then his coach tried to sneak him back in later on. The list can go on and on, but this is enough to make my point, which is this:

What in the hell are those coaches and parents teaching their children? Because let’s not forget, they are children, only 6 and 7 years old. They are being taught to lie, cheat, disrespect and presume themselves superior to others. Yes, it’s a soccer game, but the values (or lack thereof) are being absorbed into these children’s beings and will affect their person for years to come. Instead of improving their skill they will resort to low blows and cheating. They won’t feel accepted or worthy unless they succeed or win. They will look down on others who are different or who don’t qualify. They will play to win, not to enjoy. They are not learning from their mistakes, they are being told not to have any mistakes. It’s ridiculous!

I realize that I am oversimplifying and that not all those kids are destined to doom. But after observing the vast differences displayed over the weekend I am so very grateful to be a part of our rec league. We may not be as big as the other guys. We may not have the swanky attire and paid coaches. Heck, we don’t even belong in the same skill bracket. And yet there is no way I would switch to any of the teams we played. No way, Jose! To me instilling lifelong values and creating a supportive, nourishing environment is much more important in the long run than winning a particular game. But the best part is that our boys do have the same skill level as the other teams! They beat the snot out of them! Yet they did so with dignity, respect, hard work and outstanding attitudes. This is the way to play, win or lose. This is the basis for a productive, healthy, happy person.

I am so very proud of our team that exhibits skill and sportsmanship. I am proud of our coaches who do not criticize, but construct. I am proud of our parents and friends and family members who encourage and support no matter what.