zen motherhood

I had assumed that when my daughter turned three that I would have this profound soliloquy on her maturity and growth into a new era of development. That did not happen. Nothing happened actually. Except she ate cake (frosting first) and just turned three. I realized though that I wasn't expecting really amazing things from her, but amazing things from me. As a parent I had this hope that at three things would start to crystallize and I would be enlightened into a whole new realm of parenting. Um, that did not happen. I don't even think I ate any cake. I can't remember. Which of course then lead me into a whole other thought process of why, as parents is it such a guessing game and that we question every step that we take and half the time are crossing our fingers behind our backs hoping that it just works?  Why does parenting have to be so 'fly by the seat of your pants'? I'm constantly worried and hope that I am not shaping my child into the next serial k

Compassion is an interesting topic in our house. We constantly discuss- as parents can we teach our children compassion? What if our kids do not naturally have this characteristic, how would you foster or develop it? For my two year old, going on three, I think it is safe to say that she has this naturally. I have been told she is usually the one who comforts the crying child (ironic since She is the one crying half the time) or helping out the lost kid in class. Maybe she feels for them, almost a two year old empathy. She shows it elsewhere too though, if a bug is hurt she says "oh no!" and as she watches the animal in trouble on Wonder Pets she never fails to tell you the ailment with sure panic in her voice 'oh no, bunny is stuck!' I see these as signs of what I hope is compassion. Most of the time she is just crazy Naomi having a fit because she can't have ding dongs for dinner. But there are moments like the ones above and last night she shows some new leve

It has been over a year and a half since my daughter started school and still the drop-off is a challenge from time to time. I have analyzed this scenario a thousand times to evaluate what works best for her, for me, the teacher, and the earth since I am all about world peace. Ok, no really though, the idea is that the first week or so, your child has separation anxiety. Completely normal. However, my child has what I call Random Separation Disorder. This is where on any given day she will Not want to go to class. I would also like to point out that it's not a fight from square one- meaning like my older step-daughters, it's right when they get out of bed: "I don't waantt to go to school" (the extra a's and t's are there on purpose- this is to emote whining). No, Naomi gets up although slowly, usually ready for the day after a glass of juice and a bit of a morning movie. But once we get to the classroom door, she freezes. It may be that she is just ...

I have to start this post with an aside- to give you some perspective. Many years ago, I was with my good friends and their first son who was about 2. We were playing in the living room when their son sat up on the arm of their leather couch and proceeded to slip off and hit the floor head first. I have never been so mortified or see something happen in such slow motion and feel so helpless in my life. He was ok, but the experience scarred me and I have never let Naomi anywhere near the arm of any couch. Fast forward to July 30th, 6pm. It seems our time had come to have a similar incident. Our family decided to end our Florida vacation at a local Japanese Hibachi Restaurant and as we sat and waited to be seated, Naomi kneeling on a bench proceeded to do the same topple over to hit the ground head first. Now, watching someone else's child is pretty mortifying. To watch someone else's child you care about deeply is even  more mortifying. All of this is compounded by the way

So my child has no fear. None. Zilch. Zero. I am certain the empty role that Evel Knievel left behind upon his passing (rip) will soon be filled by my young daredevil daughter. Much to my dismay. A little insight to my personality. I am NOT the daredevil. I am about as far from daredevil as you can get. I can barely Watch daredevils on TV and certainly have a supreme difficult time in handling my daughter's risk taking. This is my husband's role and I like this clear, safe division. However- I recognize that this is a unique trait in my daughter and that a good mom should allow her the freedom and excitement to pursue her daredevil activities. It scares the crap out of me and I have noticed that she is pushing even my limits. And she is only 2. One case example- the beach. She is barely 2 feet tall at 2 and she is marching into the ocean heading into waves larger than her stating "Come On, mommy". "Come on" my *%@.  By the way, a small aside on this- the be

So I have had this post in my thoughts for awhile but just keep getting more and more examples so I have waited to post. It came to me one day that wouldn't it be nice if we could live life a little more like a two year old? Guzzle your gatorade until your whole mouth turns blue.   If only we could all down our coffee and coke in this same manner. Although one could argue that downing a caffeinated beverage in this way produces some unhealthy results. Run through the field/grass/sand and shout with glee.   Anytime my daughter hits an open space she runs like she is a wild animal set free. If only when we left the office we would run through the parking lot to our cars with the same excitement and enthusiasm. Ask "What??" loudly and clearly for all to hear and until you get an answer you want/understand.   This is probably special to only my daughter but if only we could all just ask What out loud when the world doesn't make sense and continually ask until we

I am pretty sure my daughter is speaking in tongues these days since the majority of the time I do not understand what she is saying.  For all those parents who have been through this stage, it's a funny time and for those who have never been there, just imagine being in a foreign country where the other person tries to use English but they only know about 4 words and use their own language in between. There will be intelligible words dispersed in there so I want to believe she is attempting to formulate a sentence. "dubba dubba dubba car dubba dubba cow". And then there are these brief moments where she spits out a complete sentence  "I didn't mean to break it mommy" and we all dance in happy amazement. However, at her age apparently she should be able to speak some thousands of words and be able to recite short excerpts of Shakespeare. Thus, just like all moms who hope her child is normal/borderline prodigy I begin to be concerned. Now I am sure at the

Our saga continues (really I just regurgitate text from all the famous media of our time, i'm sure some ipr is being broken..) as we are approaching my daughter's 3rd birthday and she still cannot go to sleep peacefully. Well that is not true. I spent the last 3 months on hiatus as I traveled around for work. It was exhausting and I missed my family but it seems I was not so missed, Naomi went to bed smoothly most nights, had no separation issues at school, and behaved in such a way that would make any mommy proud. Then I came home. Last night was one of those nights that I question whether 2.5 year olds really need naps. The bedtime ritual that we always follow went fine as always but then it took 2 hours for her to finally go to sleep. After scores of coddling, threatening, something in between, until exhaustion set in. See my earlier post about sleeping. She naps at school, most of the time, and for those wondering, it's usually around 1.5 hours to 2 hours. Those d

I know this is a term taken from wedding vows (well not the last part), but it's very applicable here. And not to START with a tangent- but why is it that for every other relationship/big endeavor in your life you are required to sign, take a vow over the Holy Bible, or other act of dedication. But to take a baby home... nothing. They should make you do the same thing, swear over the Bible or something "I solemnly swear to be the best parent I can be and not be a jerk to my kids". Anyways, I have spent the past week and a half- sick. My daughter has spent the past week and half- sick. And to expound on this further, we have spent this entire winter- sick. It has really been horrible and I am at my wits end as to why I always get sick but my husband does not. On top of all of this, I had to work. Well I always have to work, but I think the past two weeks of my working career have been the most stressful I have had in a long time. So - it has been a true test of my zen pra

My husband likes these combi words. You take two ordinary words and create your own. I find them silly but often very useful in describing something quickly. This is obviously a combination of Poo and Disaster. I can see some of you smiling already, but to add to the story I must preface this with some background (see * for footnote/commentary): I was, and still am, an obsessively clean person. I am not sure if it's the Japanese in me, but I was one of those people that when you came to my place, everything was in perfect order, there were never dishes in the sink, and I smelled like roses. Well that last part I just made up but the point is I have some cleanliness issues. When we moved into our lovely home and I inherited two children and welcomed a wonderful husband, I also opened the door to a wealth of mess that my OCD brain was not readily prepared for and much like any control freak I tried everything in my power to control it, manage it etc. I can't tell you the experi

Since the day my daughter was born she has not been a good sleeper. When I say not a good sleeper though, I just mean the going down part. Once she gets to sleep, she doesn't wake up 47 times or anything, but the going down process is a battle and the conglomerate of these battles is an all out war in my book. I'm losing by the way, if anyone is wondering. I have probably broken every rule in every book on what not to do. However, I would also argue that my daughter has too and she doesn't follow the text book cases of separation issues, or too much sleep, or no bed time ritual, blah blah blah. She just sometimes wants to stay up. It's nights like tonight that I struggle to keep my even-temper. Well, honestly, by nature I don't have an even-temper so it's a struggle not to melt down. She is sick as well, so I struggle with wanting to baby her but then trying to ensure I don't rock her too much, coddle her too much, or create some horrible irreversible hab

I struggled to come up with a very profound first post. So suffice it to say, after struggling with my 2 1/2 year old, again, to go to bed, and picking up the house that looks like a small rodent has turned everything upside down, I am writing- profound or not. This is my mission statement if you will. I work in IT so I have a tendency to think in project mode. I decided to start a blog since I feel I finally have something useful to say. I became a mom 2 1/2 years ago, a step-mom 3 years ago, and am quite certain that my spiral towards insanity coincides with that time frame. If you are a mom, you will understand. It sounds dramatic to a non-mom and to veteran moms it's almost comical but I thought perhaps now I have something to share. If you are a mom of any tenure you will understand that we all at some point try to find SOMEthing to help with the insanity. Some do yoga, others do pilates. Some start a blog, or the better ones write a book. I have turned to zen buddhism.