My Grace is Sufficient

I had a very deep conversation with a very dear friend last night - all while watching the not so deep season finale of Real Housewives of Miami. You know a conversation is going to be good when you have been drinking vanilla vodka Italian creme sodas and have to qualify the topic with "Don't think I'm a nut, okay!?". The conversation went as follows: There are a few poignant times in my life when I know God has answered a prayer or has tried to get my attention. Since my head is not 4G, the reception is hit or miss. 

When Jeremy and I moved here I was set on having another child. I dreamed of how fun it would be to meet another Jeremy/Shauna genetic concoction, and to share that experience with Natalia. Since I was so worried all the time when I was pregnant with Natalia, I missed out on making it fun and exciting. I wanted another chance to enjoy it all. Here was the problem: I would have to sacrifice my relationship and time with Jeremy in order to fulfill this dream. Since I am totally in love with my guy, the known person won out over the unknown person we could have created.

I prayed. Oh how I prayed. I will also be honest and tell you that I prayed God would do things my way, how I wanted it, and fix my little universe to revolve around my master plan. I'm sure God just LOVES being told what to do, when to do it, and how to get it done. The bottom line is He said 'no'. Now, I am not prone to auditory hallucinations, but I do think He will plant the seed of a thought that ya just can't shake. I kept thinking of the verse "My grace is sufficient" (2 Corinthians, 12:9). That struck a cord because Natalia's middle name is Grace and I realized I was being told 'no'. I was pissed. It's okay because He is God and can handle it. Also, He was right. My little Grace is sufficient. 

After I got done feeling sorry for myself and throwing tantrums, I just gave into the 'no'. The hardest part was getting rid of her baby gear. I put on my big girl pants and cleaned and organized all her precious, memory filled baby stuff to get it ready for its exodus. Then I realized it is just stuff, even if it was super happy stuff. Another plus is I love getting rid of things and throwing out the old. I am severly anti-clutter. It borderlines on a disease, but hey, all our electrical cords look fabulously organized in individual ziplock bags and I know where everything is in my house. If I don't know where it is, it no longer exists in Lacow Land.

Garage sale season was my opportunity to at least get some cash from my heartbreak. The fabulous part is I got to meet the families who wanted her things. One couple was recently married, so excited about trying to start a family and in love with Natalia's crib bedding. I was too. I knew that my treasures were going to good homes. The crib went to a friend of mine from work. I was amazed at how liberating it was to move on. While I loved the baby stage, I love every stage with the current one included. Getting rid of her old gear cleared out not only my garage, but also my head. I stopped planning for a new addition and started really enjoying Natalia. I know I am a bit of a "helicopter parent", but I also know that I only get to go through this one time. I appreciate her childhood more and know that when she is going through her backtalking, know everything, nailpolish on the carpet, wake me up every hour phase - I don't have to do it again with her sibling. It helps me be a bit more patient and remember that my Grace is sufficient.

The Fashionista

Last week I had to put away almost an entire closet of Natalia's clothes. Most of them she grows out of faster than she wears them out, so we donate them to Goodwill. Buying clothes now is a little more frustrating than when I could dress up my sweet little toddler. Low rise jeans for a school age girl is a totally obtuse idea, as is the idea of the "skinny jean". I had to explain to Jeremy that this isn't a judgment, just the look of the pants when they get to the ankle. I will spare you my rant on the tween girls T-shirt that has a scratch and sniff chest logo. She now also has a say as to what she wants to look like. At least she is pretty predictable: Pink dresses that "twirl", anything with glitter or sequins, and Hello Kitty. I approve and would dress that way myself if I thought I could pull it off without an intervention involving a social worker.

When we shop for Natalia, I try and do an entire coordinating wardrobe all at once. I have learned over the years that since there are multiple people dressing this child, I must make it as user friendly as possible. I am mainly speaking about Jeremy. Holy cow. He totally doesn't get it and now I marvel that he is able to dress himself and not take on the world looking like Napoleon Dynamite. 

As we shop, Jeremy puts together an outfit where the top piece and the bottom piece both have "red". It wasn't red. Neither piece had a scrap of red on it, not to mention there were two totally different and busy patterns involved. I just stood in Old Navy looking at him like he had just grown a third eye. Don't feel too sorry for him because he is not color blind - he just doesn't get it. Although it would be helpful if he unleashed some sort of metrosexual side, it would also make me a bit confused, so in the meantime - I spoon feed her fashions to him. 

My favorite Jeremy fashion moment is when I met my two favorite people for dinner at Tucanos after a training class one evening. They were already sitting at the booth and eating when I joined them. Natalia gets up to accompany me for round two at the trough when I realized she is wearing a shirt and tights. Tights, just tights, nothing but the tights. I asked if she spilled something on herself and she said 'no'. Jeremy's response is "What's wrong?". Um, those are hosiery - not bottoms. He still looked puzzled and I just about died laughing. By the way... Natalia thought she looked great.

Now, dressing herself is another matter. She puts together the typical six year old stuff. She will put together her favorite shirt with her favorite skirt and feel fabulous even though the two clash so loudly it could wake the Titans. She sternly reminds me "Mom! It doesn't have to match." I can honestly tell you that I consulted my Natalia 101 manual and she is right. There is nothing written stating her clothing has to match. The only parameters are weather appropriateness and clean. Those are the days I take extra time to make sure her face and nails are clean, and that her hair is groomed so I don't get a call from Child Services regarding the welfare of my little boogerface. 

I do have to admit that when it comes to Natalia - getting dressed has never really been a battle between us. She has always pretty much just gone with whatever I picked out for the day. I miss the days when she got to wear a princess dress over her clothing just to run errands. I mean, seriously. Wouldn't that be so much fun even as an adult?  Clothes are way beyond the practicality these days. Natalia and I both agree that the four inch platform booties not only keep our tender feet off the harsh ground, but also look fabulous. They look amazing with her red monkey pajamas while she clomps around the house sounding like a seizing Irish dancer. 

The point is this: Who really cares if she doesn't match as long as she feels fabulous? While I am not promoting she find her self worth in appearance, don't we all want to step out and feel like we shine? If she gains a little sparkle from wearing a periwinkle blue "twirling" skirt with a red T-shirt, brown sweater and pink suede shoes I say "Work it girl! Rock that sparkle". Just don't let daddy dress you anymore.

Alright God, What Now?

Like any good Christian, I have a lot of guilt. I'm sure God didn't plan on things that way. That's why he sent Christ, right? He figured out we are all a bunch of rotten children running amok, so he gave us divine grace which is our get out of hell free card. Now, before you click out of this one just know I am not on a spiritual conversion rampage - there is a parenting point.

Last night Natalia was telling me about a couple of her friends that were going to get baptized. I was kind of excited that she brought it up, since I had no idea how to broach the subject. This is when I started to feel guilty and a little in the hot seat. All mom's know the times when important questions are voiced from our mini me that will shape their thinking. Parents also know that our kids have remarkable memories when it comes to this stuff. Not so much when it comes to "who left the my little pony fruit snack wrappers on the couch?" or "did you put your library book in your book bag to return?" These are such stupid questions since Natalia is an only child. No wonder she thinks Jeremy and I are senile, but I digress. 

I asked her if she knew what it meant to be baptized. She told me that in the Kingdom Hall (my in-laws are Jehovah's Witnesses) that people have to be able to answer a bunch of questions. Again, I'm now feeling guilty that we haven't gone to church regularly to show her what I believe. I let her know in my long mommy explanation way that being baptized was like getting married. Because of the delicious potato pancakes I made for dinner, I wasn't wearing my wedding ring. This was the only tangible symbol I could think of on the fly. I told her that not wearing the ring didn't mean that I was no longer married to daddy, it was just a symbol of a promise to love him and be friends with him forever. This is my take on baptism. It is a promise to God and a marriage into His family. How simple is that! I didn't have to take a test to marry Jeremy. I didn't have to pretend to be married first to see if I could keep my promise. We just did it. We believed in how much we love each other and practiced the promise after it was made. 


I want Natalia to be spiritual. I want her to understand that there is something greater than her that loves her and will guide her when I can't. I want her to know that Greater Spirit guides me when she comes to me for help. Again - this goes along with the "God, please don't let me freak out, please don't let me freak out...." So my to-do list got longer this week. I don't think being a member of a church should be a requirement to be a member of God's family, but I will research the hoops we need to jump through. I want to go all out with this while Natalia is interested and while faith comes easy. Maybe this will rev up my faith a bit. I mean, seriously. How divine is it to have her in my life?

She reminds me every day that God listens to me sometimes, and ignores me others for my own good. I'm glad He ignored my request to undo my pregnancy. She came at what I thought to be a very inopportune time. It wasn't. It was perfect timing and the best thing ever. The whole thing was five miles amazing and I love every second of it. It is this reason that I picked Grace as her middle name. Something I couldn't earn, don't deserve, but God gave me anyway. Even if I am a rotten child running amok.

 

Motherless Mothering

I have to tell you that when it comes to this "being a mom" thing, I am winging it. I know I am doing a good job, but there are times when I feel like a ship lost at sea. A lot of young-ish mothers often feel this way and then have the luxury of calling her own mother for direction, advice, and to be talked off the crayola colored ledge. It's a good thing I have facebook and some amazing friends. I don't have a mother I can call. It sucks. Totally.

To make up for this, I read parenting books. Can you just picture me in my living room with Natalia? I read a paragraph, then peer over the book at her thinking "Mmmm hmmmm. Maybe that explains....." The bottom line is I just don't know. She seems well adjusted and normal, but I have nothing to compare it by and sometimes I end up needling the issue to death. Jeremy loves it when I do that. It's a good thing for Natalia that I have him to step in sometimes and tell me to just let it go. I don't always take that advice, but I will back off my neurosis a bit - for a while.

Here is my point that gets me really fired up, and scared all in the same breath. How can a mother just let her child go? I'm not talking about empty nesters. I'm talking about a mother thinking that her child is independent and stable enough to really "not need" a mother anymore. I can't imagine feeling that way about Natalia, but a lot of parents do. Hell, even my dad thought geography was too much of a bother to keep up a relationship when I moved across the country. Natalia is my heart. I can't imagine her not being an important part of my day, but then I worry that I will be like them - a lazy parent, too busy in my own life to care about my adult child. It makes me a little more diligent in my day to day.

I do have to mention that Jeremy has a great mother. She is definitely his go to person with parenting questions. She is amazing, but she is his, not mine. I love her, but it's different.

A lot of my personal parenting (the part not from a parenting book) comes from doing the opposite of how I was raised. I won't call her names (boogerface doesn't count. That's a term of endearment), I will never slap her in the face, I won't put her in a position where she has to parent me, I won't ever think that just because I have raised a self assured adult that she will no longer need a mom.

The Art of Playing Barbies

Last Saturday night I was so psyched that Natalia and I had a mommy/daughter night, and didn't have to worry about waking up early on Sunday to rush her to Grandma's before work. I was thinking all day about what I could plan for us to do because I am totally competitive against Jeremy. He always thinks of these super fun outings for the two of them while I am stuck at work. My great idea was to go to the movies, then out for crepes afterward. I was so excited when Natalia got home from the bus stop on Friday to tell her about the fabulous plans I had for us. My idea of fabulous and her idea differed quite a bit.

All she wanted for her fabulous mommy/daughter night was for me to jump on the trampoline and play Barbies with her. So that is what we did.

It's amazing what childhood games come back to you when the context is right. Natalia had never heard of the trampoline game "crack the egg". She was an easy egg to crack. Mommy was the champ (still competitive, even if she is only six). We spent a half an hour jumping, screaming, giggling, and freeze posing in mid air. This earned me three ibuprofen the next morning because my spine was protesting all the jostling. 

Playing Barbies doesn't come as naturally as it used to. That is probably acceptable since I am a full grown, stressed out, type-A, analytical adult. So, Natalia helped me out by giving us a theme to set the stage. I got to pick my own two Barbies and name them. Skittles and Pookie were ready for the prom with Prince Eric, Prince Phillip and Jeremy. Seraphina (Natalia's girl) dumped Prince Eric at the prom because he called her a Debbie Downer. Seraphina doesn't know what that means, but immediately went home to talk to her sister Lulu who had to stay home anyway because she didn't have a date and couldn't fit on the horse that took the rest of the gang to prom. Skittles and Jeremy had a wonderful time, and Prince Eric realized he really loved Pookie. Seraphina married Prince Phillip- after they graduated with honors from college with degrees in education and economics, respectively. Natalia made my Prince Eric tell Seraphina that he really loved her, but she snubbed him (again) because she is already happily married to Prince Phillip. 

I hadn't laughed that hard in a long time. It was too much fun.

Natalia told me that it was her best day ever. I agree. I didn't have to stage an extravagant night out, drop a lot of money, or even wear makeup. It was plain and simple, and the best day ever.

Gross Anatomy

I am so excited that Jeremy, Natalia and I will be cruisin' in the Caribbean in October. This will be Natalia's first cruise and I can't wait for her to experience it all. Last night we were talking about the day camp where she will have all sorts of activities and meet new friends for the week. I was telling her that some of the other kids may even be from different countries. She is so excited! Me, too.

While watching Chelsea Lately last night the topic of Europeans and speedos came up. That is one of the most comical parts of hanging out by the pool on cruises - lots of puffy men in speedos. Then I started thinking of this from a     6 year old, only child stand point. Oh, Lord. There will be questions. I mean, I am a grown woman and look upon that with a puzzled, questioning look. I admit it -  I am VERY American and don't get the speedo thing. EVER.

This had me thinking about the anatomy lessons we have given Natalia. A couple years ago Jeremy and I decided to open that bag of worms because     1. Natalia has two boy cousins who sometimes forget to close the bathroom door when peeing interrupts play time, 2. Uncle Jason pees in the yard during barbecues (at least he turns his back to the crowd), and 3. Natalia wanted to know why daddy all of a sudden needs privacy when he takes a shower. Now mind you, we are not a "naked family" and Jeremy is not a public pee-er. We don't wander the house in the buff while getting ready to go out, but for the sake of time when she was younger we would put her in the tub which is next to the glass shower and she would play and soak while we got showered and ready. It was great because we could get ready in relative peace while she was contained and entertained. Then she got older and more perceptive, so she has been kicked out of the bathroom while daddy gets ready. 

One evening after her bath I asked her if she knew the difference between boys and girls. She very frankly said "yes, boys have short hair". I told her that while most of the time that is true, some boys have long hair too. She laughed and told me that was silly. So here it went: I told her that boys have a penis that sticks outside their body. She asked me why. No one tells you as a parent that your child will ask you questions that have no answer. God is my go-to "no-answer questions" standby. "That's just how God made them". Again, she told me that sounded silly and then asked me what it looks like. Jeremy was still in the room at this time, but left laughing when I told Natalia that it looks like a little hot dog (we are talking about children's anatomy). Then we talked about privacy, vaginas and hygiene. Being the ER nurse that I am I also made mention that like ears and noses, please don't put anything in there. I'm not sure that reasoning will fly when she goes away to college, but that's what I'm going with. 

Thank goodness this conversation seemed to suffice; potty and bath time for the other gender is private; and thanks to kenpo, Natalia knows that a groin shot to a bad guy will bring him to his knees so she can run away to safety. We will all be laughing at "European Cruise Guy" in the speedo and I won't feel like I have to have the penis conversation in an embarrassed panic if Natalia loudly calls him out on his swimwear choice.

A Letter to Natalia

Natalia,

You are the light in my day, the song in my heart, the joy in my soul. I don't want you to be my idea of who you are, I want you to find yourself. I want you to fearlessly fail, humbly succeed and take the time to look around you and breathe. I know that a week seems like forever to you now, but they are seconds to me. Before I had you I was forever racing towards the next goal, now I beg God to slow time down because with you, my life is amazing and worth pause. 

There are some hopes that I have for you. I want you to sing loudly and often. The songs you make up yourself remind me that I don't always need to follow the notes of another. While you are doing all that singing, you might as well dance. Some of my best memories I keep tucked away are when you and I have danced together. 

Please look to daddy to find your own Prince. He is a shining example of how the Prince should love his Princess. You are an amazing package and deserve someone who will add to your life, not change it. When you get older it will feel safer to try and adapt yourself to what you think a prince would want. Your true Prince will want you - just you, just like you are.

Laugh a lot, often, as much as you can. Life isn't as serious as some people make it out to be. I know you can't imagine this now, but as you get older you may forget how to play. The best way to keep that from happening is to play often and laugh while your at it. Don't fret too much if you forget. Someday you will have a daughter to show you how.

Hug the people you love and tell them often that you love them. Never be embarrassed to show the world what a sensitive and loving heart you have. Your sweet and loving heart are one of my favorite qualities in you. Someday you may hear the world telling you to hide your heart, be suspicious of others, and harden your defenses. I think as long as you know that your voice counts, place value on yourself and keep a sharp mind, your heart can be free to love. Being sensitive and allowing yourself to have strong feelings aren't bad. This is God's perfect design for you and He has a plan on how to use it. If you are ever embarrassed or scared to show your feelings to someone, come to me because I am always a safe place for you.

Love, 

Mom 

The World According to Natalia

I have never laughed as hard or as often in my life before I was a mom. Natalia has given me a new perspective of the world around me. More than that, she has opened Jeremy and I up to a new vocabulary. Tonight she told me she loves my "blobs". She meant "blogs", but when I think about it, it sounds like a new nickname for boobs. She says some of the most funny things, but in the past two years she gets upset when we "laugh at her". I have explained (many times) that she just makes us so happy that we have to laugh. She just gives me one of her looks and tells me she doesn't like it when we laugh at her. 

When Natalia was two my Grandpa Derr (whom I was very close to) died. Thinking that she wouldn't remember anything because she was so young, we brought her to the funeral and sat in the back of the church. As my friend Melinda would say "she is an old soul", so there was lot of explaining that took place about death, our spirit, and heaven. Around that same time Natalia got her first pet. It was a goldfish she named Monkey George. Natalia (and I) got a little overzealous with feeding Monkey George. Who knew that goldfish are like donkeys and will eat until their stomachs explode if the food is available? Natalia knew that Monkey George had died and "gone to heaven". Unfortunately she accidentally caught me dropping Monkey George into the toilet to make his celestial departure. Natalia looked into the toilet very concerned and asked if heaven was in the toilet and if her poop goes to heaven too? She was very concerned that Grandpa Dirt (Derr) was also in the toilet (with the poop and goldfish). This opened up the discussion of septic tanks, water purification, and how people's bodies are like cars and the soul is the driver. This also set back my potty training efforts a couple weeks.

A few years ago I was getting into the shower while she played Barbies on the floor. She looked at me and asked why my belly was big. I told her that all mommies' bellies get bigger after they have a baby. Her eyes became wide and she asked "Like magic?". I couldn't help but laugh and said "Yep. Just like magic." Before that day I never thought of my belly pooch as magical. I just needed a new perspective. I also needed a gym membership.

Some of the things she says become catchy outside the family circle, like Natalia's units of measurement. I have heard one of my dear friends at work use the measurement "like five miles". Natalia uses this form of measurement for hunger and pain - "I am five miles hungry" and "it hurtses five miles much". This amount of pain is usually accompanied by what I call the sad clown face. Half moon eyes and that long frown clowns paint on their faces. It'll break your heart and make you giggle all at the same time. 

Taylor Swift would love Natalia's improvisational skills on her song "You belong to Me". The other girl in the song wears high heels, but Taylor sells sneakers. There was also something about a butcher, but since I can't remember the exact placement you will just have to take my word on it. Shirley Manson of Garbage would be pleased to know that her lyrics now say "I think I'm paranoid, constipated". Hey, I keep track of Natalia's bowel movements like any other good mom, so the word constipated was introduced to her years ago. Since it can be painful, I understand why someone would start being paranoid about it. 

I wish I had kept better track of all the laughter provoking things she has said in the past. I love that she has such a silly sense of humor. There is nothing sarcastic or mean spirited - just plain old silly stuff that all kids laugh at. I love how she calls it like it is: "Mommy, I just saw someone cigaretting! You need to go tell her she is going to die!" 

From this day forward I promise to be better at capturing "The World According to Natalia". 

Nothing's Fair in First Grade

Most of my good friends know that I am not a big fan of Natalia's first grade teacher. I have to admit it wasn't very mature of me to re-name her Ms. Viola Swamp from one of Natalia's favorite books "Miss Nelson is Missing". Thank goodness Natalia has not told her teacher. That would make for a very awkward parent/teacher moment. 

My stress from this teacher is bitter sweet. I get that she doesn't want to coddle the first graders, but I am thinking she has forgotten what it means to be six. Most of the class still believes in Santa and take naps on the weekends. I like the fact that she makes the kids accountable and I am a big fan of consequences that match up to the actions. What I don't approve of is the way she comes across to Natalia. Now, I don't want to be one of those delusional parents who think everything her child says is of biblical standing, but I think Natalia has had some pretty valid points as to why she is upset. I had this Pollyanna view of elementary school teachers being patient and loving. Someone who I send my little boogerface off to, who will not only teach her, but inspire her. That has not been my impression of her first grade experience. 

My lemons to lemonade stance on this year has been this: you won't always like your teacher or boss, but you need to stick it out and do the best you can. (Can mom get a little vodka with this lemonade, please?) No one expected this of me until I was in high school. This is what I am asking of my six year old and I have to say - she is kicking ass. Tonight she went over "her big girl words" with me to confront her teacher. I want Natalia to always know she has a voice worth hearing and not to let anyone dampen her spirit. The world can't make you a victim if you know your voice counts. 

Tonight Natalia threw a tantrum for an hour over homework before she could sift through her emotions enough to tell Jeremy and I what really upset her today. I guess we are doing a pretty good job because I know a lot of adults who have no idea where their tantrums are coming from. She even apologized for taking things out on us. Again - I see a lot of adults who struggle with this. Obviously I have had enough therapy to pass this along to her, even if I can't always walk that walk.  


My mommy neurosis involve my conflict with knowing which struggles will make Natalia a better person, and which ones will just jack her up. There are no scenario specific parenting books for Natalia 101. My belief is that as long as she knows that daddy and I have her back, she will get through just fine. My prayers are usually me repeating "God, please don't let me freak out, please don't let me freak out, please don't let me freak out...." As she gets older the struggles will hold more weight and I will continue trying to make that lemonade out of those lemons. 

Seriously, someone please pass the vodka.

I Ate Vegetables at Lunch

There are a lot of things I do as a mom that I would never do as Shauna. Take this afternoon, for instance. I would be perfectly happy eating three minute ramen noodles and frozen egg rolls for lunch,but since Natalia is eating this same meal, I made some veggies to go with it. And just so she won't think I'm a total poser - I ate the vegetables with her. When she was a toddler I could get away with making her eat the veggies while I pigged out on the carbs. Now she will totally call me out on it.

Ice skating and water parks are another mommy vs. Shauna thing. Ice skating is cold and scary. The thought of falling and hitting my delicate rear end on some unrelenting ice does not sound fun, EVER! The water park thing stems from me being a nose holder when my face goes under water. Almost as embarrassing as my pasty body in a bathing suit - almost. Last time we went to the water park I even braved the very tall slide. The one that is a straight shot with no pool to land in. Natalia was only five and braved it. I told her I was scared, so she does what all good little children do - she takes the parenting advice that I make her live her life by and totally turned it on me. "Being brave doesn't mean that you aren't scared. It means you are scared, but do it anyway". Doesn't that sound like such good advice? Before you think very highly of me just know that I made this up on the fly outside the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland. I really wanted us to ride it as a family and Natalia finally met the height requirements.


All this is to say that being a mom makes me a better person. I don't recycle because I am trying to save the planet. I recycle because we all went to the movies to see Walle, and Natalia was adamant that we recycle to save our species from a never ending obesity cruise. I put on an elaborate charity lemonade stand because Natalia has such a wonderful and compassionate heart and was worried about the people of Haiti. I eat vegetables with lunch and sneak pureed vegetables into dinner because I want her to be healthy. 


Natalia's favorite song for me to sing her is "Daughter's Eyes" by Martina McBride. I am a total sap, so even though I am not a fan of country music, I love this song. I like the first verses of the song best: "In my daughter's eyes, I am a hero. I am strong and wise, and I know no fear. But the truth is plain to see, she was sent to rescue me. I see who I want to be in my daughter's eyes."

The Mommy Chair

Before Natalia was born I knew my "new mommy must have" was a glider. I have loved rocking chairs since I was a small child. The rocking sensation is spiritually soothing to me. As soon as Natalia was old enough to articulate her take on the world, she named the glider "the mommy chair". True to any parenting form, we all call this chair "the mommy chair", even when daddy is throned on it. 

When Natalia was an infant, the chair was in our bedroom and I would nurse her in this chair. My love for the mommy chair has deepened because, as any mother who has nursed her child knows, when you nurse you are flooded with oxytocin making you feel peaceful and all lovey-dovey. My brain is as simple as Pavlov's dog - I just don't drool as often. I also blame this mind body connection on why I love the smell of Pamper diapers. It is not unusual to see me smelling a Pamper while I am walking down the hallway at work to deliver it to a patient. In my defense, I don't smell the used ones. That would be weird.

When Natalia got older, we moved the chair (and her) into her own room and it became a steadfast part of her bedtime routine. It also became a part of her  "I want mommy to rock me every three hours" routine. Then came Ferber - but that is another story for another time. I had an epiphany one night after I had fed her a bottle and sang her a song: She would not always fit in my lap. It was like being sucker punched in the heart, but I resolved to embrace every moment she and I spent in the mommy chair. 


Now, those of you who have not seen my daughter recently won't understand the mental picture of me still holding my 95th percentile six year old in the mommy chair every night she is home. She is four feet tall and weighs fifty pounds. I am five-three, and weigh 122. I am almost at that dreaded point where she will no longer fit in my lap. I said almost - but not yet. I have to admit that I also still carry her around when she will let me. I'm pretty sure in the near future her feet will be dragging on the floor while I carry her.


In the meantime I cherish the time we spend in the mommy chair. She loves books, just like her dad, and it is amazing now that she reads to me before bed. She also loves my singing, which is good since I am almost always singing when I am at home. Yep, out loud; out of tune; don't care. She loves to sing too, and sometimes we will try and out-do each other. So at night we share a story, share a song, and then have some insightful chats - all in the precious mommy chair. 


We have talked about death, boys, hygiene, her day, my day, why some of her friend's parents don't live together, plans for vacations, memories of vacations, God, scary dreams and weird room noises. We have problem solved nightmares by inventing the imaginary sweetie jar while in that chair. I have embraced every second of it, even when it has been 3am and she has been burning up with a fever. Tonight she turned to smell my hair and told me I smell like home. My eyes teared up a bit and I told her she smells like home to me, too. It is during this time that I know God is in the room with us, and He is proud of our love. Now don't get me wrong - my family is not one continuous hallmark moment. My loving memories of that chair also include when I feel her tense up on my lap to fart on me. Our house rule is: farting is always funny. It's gross and smelly, but very funny and always induces lots of giggles. I'm sure from us and God since it is His design.


The mommy chair is the place I go to when I am upset or feeling blue. It just makes me feel so comforted. Sometimes after a long, frustrating shift in the ER I will come home and rock in that chair while I watch her sleep. I miss the days when she was smaller and I could pick her up out of her crib and rock her for a while. She wouldn't even wake up, but she would reach over my shoulder and start unconsciously playing with my hair. If only Pfizer could bottle that feeling up. Now that she is big and not used to being constantly cuddled - I get decked in the eye by flailing arms and stinky breath telling me to put her back to bed. 


When it comes to baby stuff (she'll always be my baby), I like to take care of it and pass it on to another family. I am a little superstitious and know that some of the joy will stay with the chair to give to the next family. That day is fast approaching and I will certainly cry when that chair leaves home. Jeremy will be hugging me and rolling his eyes at the same time. He is not emotionally stronger than me, because I know for sure that if it had been called "the daddy chair", It would NEVER leave the house.

Kick 'em back, bubbie!

I'm sure I'm not the only mom who wants her child to be the better version of herself. If we are really being honest, I would rather Natalia be just like Jeremy. She is this amazing combination of the both of us that only God can genetically put together and not have her turn out weird. I am learning that the hardest part of parenting is to not freak out when I notice my less desirable traits surfacing in my mini-me. 

I totally remember being "boy crazy" as young as age five. His name was Sam, he was in my kindergarten class and he kissed me on the cheek at recess. Now, only being the mother of a little girl, I cannot attest to the gossiping skills of boys. Natalia is a pro at giving daddy and I a detailed description of the emotional aspects of her day. Today's first grade soap opera was the fact that Zachary has a crush on her. The rationale for this is when they were playing Star Wars, he didn't "kill" her; and when it was group time in class and she didn't have a group, he invited her to join his. Hey, at least she is logical with her reasoning. Jeremy and I smile, but we are both secretly sweating when we picture her as a hormone-laced teenager. The key to parenting is being a duck - smooth on the surface, paddling like hell underneath.

Her other crush involves Orlando Bloom. Yes, the actor. Specifically the Orlando Bloom from Pirates of the Caribbean. This was cute until she was crying one night because she isn't sure what to do about her feelings for him (I'm not exaggerating. Thank goodness Jeremy was the parent at bat that night). Jeremy and I also exchanged looks when she told us that she had googled him, wrote him a letter, and sweetly left her contact information which includes her address and my cell phone number. Being "The Protector" that he is, Jeremy wants to have a talk about not giving out our personal information to strangers. I know that Natalia will argue that he is not a stranger because she has seen him on TV. I told him to save that talk for when she can construct a proper sentence and not spell half the words phonetically.

Another one of my (many) faults is how I hate doing things that I am not good at. Natalia is the same way. Again, "The Protector" wants her to be able to do some ass kicking should the need arise. I swear she is the only student in her Kenpo karate class who sports a pink flower hair clip pinned behind one ear. She surprised us both because for being such a princess, she has really taken to Kenpo. That being said, she hates getting hit. I feel the same way: please let me wail on you, but don't hit me back because it is uncomfortable. Tonight she got kicked in the thigh by this little hood rat while they were sparring. The studio room is small, so when I say out loud "Kick 'em back, bubbie!", I'm pretty sure all the parents around me can hear.  I was hoping that a switch would flip in her little mind and she would go ninja on his little orange belted bootie, but instead she started to cry. Not just a little lip quiver and tear roll - a full on ugly cry. She could barely catch her breath and I caught site of myself in the studio mirror and I was red in the face. I wasn't red with embarrassment, I was red with anger. I know that I am a mean momma bear and really have to rein it in when anyone hurts my child. It will please you all to know that I didn't jump off the wooden bleachers and pound the kid who made my sweet little boogerface cry. 


What makes me feel good as a parent is that after she caught her breath, she went back out on the mat to finish her class. Don't get me wrong, she was done with sparring. She bravely stood at her place, finished her push-ups and saluted out. It is times like this that I realize she inspires me to be a better person. Her bravery pushes me to find my place, finish my push ups, and salute out in a way that will inspire more people around me. Hey, moms are works in progress too.

Yep, I talk about my kid pooping

I have to admit, I get a bit stressed over stupid stuff. This morning was kind of typical, so I don't know why I expected something different. I'm pretty sure that is the definition of crazy, but - whatever. I waffle in the mornings between wanting her to make her own independent fashion choices, and wanting her to not look like a 6 year old making her own fashion choices. The middle ground were these leggings that look like jeans - but look like leggings. I have to admit I won when it comes to hairstyle, but feel secretly guilty for shutting down her excitement toward fixing her own hair. Random hair clips, barrettes, scrunchies and such seem to multiply like bunnies in her bathroom drawer. I can pick out a handful of hair accessories that I have bought her, I think the rest come from grandma. She is properly groomed, brushed, and weather-appropriately dressed way before it's time to travel to the bus stop. This is a pretty amazing feat. It's finally time to head to the bus stop (a little late because I was caught up in the facebook alternate universe where time travels more quickly) and she tells me she has to poop. Ugh. She is not a speed pooper. She is a leisurely read-a-magazine and wait-to-make-sure-that-was-it pooper. Needless to say I pack us up in the car and barrel down to the end of the street to make it to the bus by parking the car in front of the loading bus to let her out. I'm pretty sure the bus driver really doesn't care when he sees a straggler running down the street. So I pit him, then smile and wave when she is safely on the bus. Oh, by the way, all while still in my pajamas.

When she gets home, it is family time. My husband and I both have the day off, so it is off to a coffee shop for homework and checkers. Jeremy is really good at strategy games, so I'm glad he is teaching her. I love watching her pace around the game table, contemplating her next move - out loud. She's not very sneaky, but I'm impressed with the thought process. There is a lot of laughter, sugary drinks, and a new found go to spot for family night.

Natalia made us dinner tonight - all except the frying. Six year olds are notoriously clumsy around hot grease. Dinner was a total success and she was so proud. At the coffee shop I was reading a few inserts from the book "Chicken Soup for the Soul". In the parenting section I read about a mother who let her kid play in the milk he spilled all over the kitchen floor. This was like an omen for the full glass of juice spilled at the dinner table tonight. No, she did not get to play in the juice. The moral of the story was not to get ruffled, and have the kid clean it up. Check. That, and the pooping lateness were the most difficult part of my day as a mom today. 

Nice work mom. I stayed cool during an inopportune bowel movement and spilled apple juice.