We learned the hard way that Andrew (kids in general) need a lot of prep when a parent is traveling. About a year ago, we had a string of a few months where our good sleeper started waking multiple times a night and was constantly on edge and cranky during the day. It seemed obvious after we discovered the problem- he was afraid he wouldn’t get to tell Daddy good-bye. I understood that completely. There were dozens of times where business trips came at an hour’s notice and A would leave before Andrew and I got home. The solution, we discovered, was to start talking to Andrew as soon as we knew what was coming. I admit, not being the usual traveler, this prep was hard for me because I was anxious about going and I didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with Andrew. But I did.

He took it well enough. He’s a seasoned child-of-a-not-really-single-but-single-parent. We talked about where I was going and looked at our giant world map. We talked about how he would get to school and who would pick him up. We prepped his things for school and I assured him he would still go to Gymnastics. We practiced using FaceTime. We talked and talked and talked about Italy and what I was going to do there and why it was important. And when the time came he helped me pack my suitcase and he missed school the day I left so he could come with me to the airport. He seemed ready. More ready than me anyway.

You see all this came with one promise:

Behave well, help Daddy and listen to your teachers. If you do those things I’ll bring you home something really cool.

Well knowing that I have a great kid who would undoubtedly behave as requested, I spent most of my free time shopping for stuff for him. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to bring Italy home to him and not just in the form of a little plastic (American, Disney) racecar. No I wanted him to understand who the Pope is, and see pictures of the Saints for whom he is named. I wanted him to see what the Sistine chapel looks like and understand the gladiator battles held in the Coliseum. So I did my best to bring Italy home to him.

It seems I did not disappoint!

When all is said and done I’m pretty sure I had more fun shopping for him that he is having exploring these new and novel things which is really saying something! And though deep down I know he wanted me to come home, even asking A at one point if they could just go to Italy and get me, it certainly didn’t hurt to have a bag of cool stuff for him when I got here. For now it’s plastic gladiators and books of pictures but also promises that one day, hopefully not too far away, I’ll bring him there to experience it all for himself.

I look at this picture and admittedly the quality is pretty poor. But I think about this picture from everything else but a photographic stand point and it’s one of my favorites. There I was, in one of the most beautiful, spiritual, and ancient cities in the world and it was incredible. I mean honestly people keep asking me how it was and I find myself running out of superlatives to describe it. Yet there was one highlight to every day I was there and that was my few minutes of FaceTime with my family back home. Steve Jobs, thank you endlessly for the iPad! Where was it when I had a frequently TDY/Deployed husband?! Ha!

Our routine went something like this:

I waited until 9pm Rome time, which was around 3pm Eastern. I knew Andrew would be home from school by then. I would feel my heart leap the moment I saw their faces on the screen and more than once I got teary-eyed. Then came predictable question number one- “Did you find Francesco for me?” Moms of boys probably know that Francesco is the Italian race car from the movie Cars 2. Once Daddy told him that I was going to the place where Francesco lived, it became my sole mission to find him and not let down my favorite little boy in the world. (I did end up finding a little Francesco car, packaged with Lightning McQueen and priced about 18 times what I would have paid for it had I simply picked one up at Target.) Predictable question number two- “Where’s Italy?” I’m still not sure he fully understands the concept of my traveling. He was convinced Italy was a thing to be seen, not a place to visit. I held up my iPad each night to let him look out the windows of the hotel but for all he was able to see I may as well have been sitting across the street from our house.

Then he told me about school, assured me he was feeding the cats every morning, making Allison laugh, and being Daddy’s “Super Helper”. The hardest part each night was saying good-bye. Again.

But despite the good-byes, the crowded and noisy lobby and flaky internet, every night I got to experience my little piece of home close to 5000 miles away. I guess you could say this week’s photo is about life through my eyes. Thank you, iPad for being my little window to the part of the world that means the most to me.

Most if not all of my readers probably know that I just got back from a 9-day trip to Italy. It was without a doubt one of the most amazing and spiritual experiences of my life, right up there with the birth of my children. But I missed my children with intensity so great I had to force myself not to think about it for fear of completely falling to pieces. Leaving them was not easy. I missed them and I missed my husband and I gather that I was missed quite a bit as well. But I knew they were in capable hands.

Now that I’ve been home a couple days I’ve started getting caught up on the things I missed while I was gone.

“I got a free oil change.”

“Really? Cool! How did you manage that?”

“Oh they took a little longer than usual and when they saw that I was by myself with two kids they gave me the oil change and car wash for free. Oh yeah and I also got a voucher for a free oil change next time, too.”

“Wow, okay that’s great!”

It got better.

“So apparently I was the first parent to turn in preschool registration for next year.”

“Good! Glad that’s taken care of!”

“Yeah they were so impressed that I did it by myself that they gave me a giant sticker. It says ‘Great Job!’”

“Wow what did they think you are three or something? Sheesh!”

The stories kept coming. One day that Hubby was late picking Andrew up from school because of a long line of traffic behind a fatal traffic accident. But instead of being annoyed at having to wait for him, the teachers at the school assumed it was because of the stress he was under from being by himself with the kids.

“Oh you poor thing! Don’t worry about being late at all. We understand.”

Wow, that’s not the response I get when I’m late to pick Andrew up.

I was starting to get annoyed, not at A but at the other people whose actions and tone suggested they were astonished he could be alone with two children without accidently forgetting to feed them or throwing himself off a bridge.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad he had people who were willing to step in. I’m glad he had people practically lined up to babysit while I was gone. I’m glad that the manager at Chic-Fil-A personally delivered his food to the table, checked back 4 times to make sure he was doing okay and offered to hold Allison while he ate.

No wait, I’m not. Because the double standard is so glaring that I can’t help but wonder if I slipped through a time warp back into 1950.

Add this on top of the scathing looks and judgmental criticism I took for going on the trip in the first place and I find myself downright shocked. We’ve come so far we’ve started going backwards.

Do you know how old Andrew was the first time A left us to go to weekend unit training with the National Guard? Five days. That’s right, DAYS. His first over night trip was before Andrew hit the one-month mark. And I spent the entire first trimester of my pregnancy with Allison with a 2 year old who was not fully potty trained, debilitating nausea, a full time a job and a husband who was only home on weekends. Too bad no one offered me any free oil changes. Must be because I’m a mom. No one expects a man to be able to do the job but a woman? Well why should she need any help. That’s what she does. And if she can’t she must be inferior and weak. If she asks for help she must not be able to handle the job. It’s a secret world of judgment when you’re a mom and I’ve gotta tell you, I’m over it.

Turns out A didn’t need much help at all. He accepted a babysitter for 45 minutes while he went to get his hair cut. Other than that he did it on his own. Both kids were clean, dressed, fed, entertained, happy and healthy while I was gone. He also worked to earn a living for our family, kept the house clean, the laundry washed and oh in his spare time he re-tiled the shower.

But I wasn’t surprised by any of this. I wouldn’t have married him if I thought he would make a crappy father. I wouldn’t have fathomed leaving my kids to go across the ocean to another country if I thought there was the slightest chance he couldn’t handle it. We believe in an equal partnership. We have always shared the task of raising our kids. Why should now be any different? I’m offended by the insinuation that I should have expected any less of him just as I would be appalled if anyone would have expected less of me. What an insult to his character to suggest he couldn’t do the job and do it well. Why do we as a culture think men can’t handle it? Maybe it’s because we spend so much time expecting them not to that they figure they can’t, or shouldn’t even try. Well enough of that. This is 2012 people! Time to move past the double standard and raise our expectations. Time to put an end to the sexist rhetoric that suggests dads can’t be just as good at parenting as moms or at the very least realize that gender has no impact on whether or not someone might like an extra hand when they are raising children alone.

All in all it was good for both of us. I learned how hard it is to be away traveling when you miss your kids back home and he realized just how exhausting it is when you are on alert at all times, knowing you are solely responsible for the safety and well being of those entrusted to your care. But the greater lesson to be learned is this: women have broken through gender barriers to be CEOs, doctors, judges, astronauts, all manner of careers. It’s time to believe that men can make perfectly wonderful fathers as well and stop accepting any less.

Well I intended this picture to be about Allison and to document her first taste of solid foods. In a way it does accomplish that. Unlike Andrew on his first solid food adventure, she did not cry or act surprised or worried. Instead she just accepted the sweet potatoes as though she’d been waiting for them her whole life. Considering how she usually responds to things like vitamins and medicine, I was pretty surprised that she actually liked them! Phew, dare I hope for the possibility that I have two good eaters? It’s probably too early to say (and I probably just jinxed myself).

But when I look at this picture I see Andrew right in the middle of the experience. He has embraced being a big brother like it is the most important job title in the world. The other day he was getting dressed for school and he looked up at me and said, “Mommy?” “Yes,” I answered. “I love Allison.” <cue melting heart> I look at the way she responds to him and know the feeling is undoubtedly mutual.

I think every pregnant woman experiences a moment of “Will I love my child enough?” and then if they become pregnant again with a second child the question becomes “Will I be able to love this new child as much as I love my first?” And even though probably every mom experiences these questions they discover quickly that the answer is unequivocally “YES!” But the wonderful secret that parents discover after that second child is born, is that watching your first become a big brother or sister will make you love them even more deeply. I watch how engaged he is with every aspect of her life, how much he wants to be a part of her new experiences, and how proud he is of her when she does something that she has never done before.  I am touched by the grace and beauty of the simple moments where I am allowed to glimpse a bit of life through their eyes and feel the pure and unencumbered love they feel in their hearts.

If you would like to be a part of my circle, let me know and I’ll add your link.

WickedKate | Robo-Family | What We’re Sayin… | Finding Joy

Remember the feeling of your first time riding a real bike? The way the breeze gently lifted your hair and cooled your face; the thrilling sensation of soaring faster than you had ever moved by the power of your own body. Learning how to ride a bike is a good metaphor for life even if it is a bit cliched. Your parents are the training wheels. They help you get started and keep you from falling while you learn but after a while it’s your turn to try on your own. Oh yes, you might fall but if you don’t get back on and try again you might never realize how fast you can fly.

Andrew asked Santa for exactly two things: a shark bike and a marble race. He got both. Both gifts have exceeded his expectations. While our riding today he saw a neighbor he didn’t know– a scary stranger! He took off running, leaving his precious bike behind until the person went in to their house. Then he was “safe” to ride again!

Want to join my circle? Let me know and I’ll link to you here!

WickedKate | Robo-Family

When I was pregnant with Andrew, my mom told me that being a mom would make me a better teacher. She said it would help me relate better to the students. What she never mentioned was how it would help me relate to the parents. Maybe that went without saying. I’m not sure.

What I know is that I used to be a pretty harsh critic. I had opinions on everything. Well, in fairness I still do. It’s just that being a mom has also opened up a great big world of other opinions, different opinions, contrasting opinions… you get the idea.

Old me: “My child will NEVER use a pacifier.”

Mom me: “Unless of course it’s the only way they stop screaming.”

Old me: “My child will NEVER use hand-me-downs.”

Mom me: “Holy crap why on earth not? Have you seen some of this stuff? It’s freakin’ awesome. And free!”

The list goes on– no creepy dinosaurs, no cartoons, no french fries, no indoor playgrounds. It all kinda goes out the window. Some of it against my will (indoor playgrounds are just gross, french fries unhealthy) but other things I had to be willing to change my mind about.

And then Andrew started school. And whoa I feel bad for every judgment I ever made against parents as a teacher.

See for the life of me I could never understand how any parent would send their kid to school with food on their face, unbrushed teeth, unbrushed hair, an untucked shirt, a shirt with a stain on it, mismatched socks, no belt, missing homework, missing permission slip, no lunch. I was harsh. I see that now. The sad truth is I’m not the only one like this. I’m willing to bet that if your kid’s teacher is not a parent he or she has also thought some pretty rotten stuff about you too.

I wish I could go back and apologize. Maybe this can be my apology.

Today I sent Andrew to school with his shoes on the wrong feet. His hair wasn’t brushed either but then again it’s hard to tell when his hair is brushed. We had a rough morning. He was distracted by every toy from his bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen to the car (toys mind you, that I should have put away last night but that’s for another post) and we were running late. It never even occurred to me to check to make sure he’d put his shoes on correctly. My friends were quick to assure me that this was no big deal and that teachers had seen far worse. This, I can’t deny. I sent my kid to school with funky shoes but with a full belly and a kiss on the cheek and an “I Love You” for the road. So life isn’t all that bad. But I’m not just a mom. I’m a teacher mom. I’m supposed to know better, right? The old teacher me would have kindly helped the child fix his shoes and then wondered silently how that kid’s parents let him out of the house that way. It made me realize that the old teacher me needs to stop after the helpful part, nix the judgment part and realize that the parents of my students are parents just like me and we’re all just doing the best we can. Those little things mean the morning was rough or the kid was uncooperative or mom was in a hurry or overslept because she is working 3 jobs but not that the child is unloved or the parent irresponsible.

I’ve come to realize that getting older means accepting when you’re wrong and learning to change your mind. And really, what better lesson is there than that to teach our kids? Mom was wrong. It’s okay. The world didn’t stop spinning on its axis. Life goes on. You grow up, you get smarter, you realize that those little details matter far far less than you thought they did and you live to fight another day…. though hopefully with your shoes on the right feet.

I don’t know if it’s just that I’m more tuned into it but it seems like there has been a rash of anti-kid news lately. If it’s not someone getting angry looks for breastfeeding in public it’s airlines and restaurants contemplating “kid-free” areas and times of day. Now I know as well as anyone that a bratty kid can ruin a perfectly nice meal but that is beside the point. This isn’t really a diatribe on why these people are wrong, no this is a simple story to illustrate one of the many reasons why I think being a parent is all worth it.

Yesterday afternoon I was folding laundry and putting it away- a typical Monday afternoon. I walked into the closet and put away some socks in a drawer and for whatever mindless reason, I left the drawer open. So after bending down to put away a pair of shoes I stood up suddenly and *CRACK* my head slammed directly into the corner of the drawer. Now I’m not one to yell out in pain. Not even while laboring to 8cm without an epidural (that never really fully worked) during my last childbirth. But the sound that escaped my lips at that moment is something I’m quite certain could be heard 3 houses down.

Hubby and Andrew came running and thankfully no words were necessary to explain what happened. Crumpled on the floor, clutching my head, and glancing briefly at the still open drawer were all that was necessary to explain what happened. Hubs quickly assessed the situation and it struck me in that moment that he would have made a great doctor though now after consideration I realize that his ability to stay calm and cool under pressure is what makes him great at just about everything he does.

“Are you bleeding?” He asks.

“I don’t think so.” I reply as I remove my hands from the spot they had been clutching to reveal that yes, I was in fact bleeding quite a bit.

Andrew, who had just been watching this unfold darts off into his bathroom and retrieves his box of beloved Buzz and Woody band-aids, a box which inspired a string of delightfully creative manifestations of pain and discomfort on his part when he first got them. The same box which also inspired a rule in our house, “you don’t need a band-aid unless there’s blood.” Well he’d heard an utterance of the magic word and he was off to save the day.

Frantically ripping open band-aid after band-aid he took each one and inquired repeatedly on where he could put it to help make me feel better. He wanted desperately to fix my head for me. Finally, after opening at least 5 or 6 band-aids he found what he was looking for.

“Look Mommy! I found you a Jessie one. You like Jessie because she’s a girl and you’re a girl.”

Proud and certain that he could now fix me, he insisted that he must put the band-aid on me somewhere. I offered my hand, not quite willing to offer him a place on my head and hair for the sticky bandage. He was hesitant about putting it in the “wrong spot” but stuck the Jessie band-aid confidently on my hand.

“There, you feel better now, Mommy?”

But it was more a statement than a question. He did for me what I have done for him. The funny thing is, in that moment I did feel better even if I was still seeing stars.

Later that evening we went to dinner. I opened his door and unbuckled the bottom latch of his carseat which is still too tough for him to release on his own. He took my hand as we walked across the parking lot. He glanced down at the band-aid and finally addressed his concern.

“Mommy, how does it help your head if it’s on your hand?”

Good question little dude. Can’t fool you, can I?

“Well,” I replied, “When I look down at my hand I see it and it makes me think about how much I love you.”

“Oh Mommy, I really really love you.”

He smiled and squeezed my hand as I often do with his. He took on the role of mommy when mommy needed it and he expressed a love and concern so genuine that it could make anyone forget any problem in the world. I think it’s simple stories like this, of which I have hundreds, that are why people have kids in the first place. Sure there are long nights, gobs of laundry, butts to wipe, appointments and classes and trips to the zoo in the 100 degree summer heat but in the end it’s the little moments that make it all worth it.

Look at that! two weeks in a row and you have a blog update post from me, plus a new picture which, I hope my husband doesn’t mind that he is a part of this one. I couldn’t help but grab my camera yesterday morning when I walked in the bedroom to find Allison sound asleep on Daddy’s chest. Someday soon enough she’ll understand the turmoil in the world around her but right now all she needs to know is one thing– she’s safe in Daddy’s arms.

Next week I am aiming to get a picture of both of them or at least of Andrew. I didn’t mean for the first two to be of Allison. See, mommy guilt at it’s finest!

See you next week (or later this week if my child ever decides to nap again!)

Want to join my circle? Let me know and I’ll link to you here!

WickedKate

I so wanted to do this last year when I first found out about it but last year I was newly pregnant and very sick, dealing with a partly potty trained toddler, working full time and surviving with a husband who was traveling more often than not. I vowed to take part in 2012 and was so excited to get started that I’ll admit I took this one a few days prior to the start of the new year.

While my inspirational site Paint the Moon uses weekly themes, I wanted to explore life through the eyes of my kids. I was not the first of my friends to have kids so I got the benefit of learning and preparing myself mentally before they came along. There was a time when I wasn’t sure I was ready. My best friend told me that having kids makes life better because you get to experience everything all over again seeing it through their eyes. That really stuck with me. So here we begin, the first of 52 pictures (hopefully!) Allison stars in the first image. Once upon a time we welcomed the new year drinking champagne but now our bubbles come from bath time. I am reminded of the simple pleasures of life when I watch her face as she enters a warm bath. In the little sink tub, under the watchful care of Mommy or Daddy, life is good.

In December of 2004 this blog was born in a small, dingy apartment just off a state road in Bordentown, New Jersey. Snow covered the ground while two young twenty-something Florida kids, because yes we still saw ourselves as kids, sat inside pathetically bundled in winter coats and gloves because the heating system was poor and it was simply too cold outside to do anything else. It was almost 2005, almost time for me to fly back home because even though we were married, we lived in different states. It was time for me to go back to start the second half of my first year of teaching. Time for A to continue his world travels with the Air Force. Our new Florida home would be done in March but it would be years before we lived there together.

Funny how everything about that story is true, except the part about how we spent years living apart. We had no idea at the time that a mere 6 months from that cold evening we would be living under one roof again, in our new home, in Florida.

Funny how seven years later things are so different and yet so very much the same. Once again we are waiting to move but we wait together under one roof and instead of feeling like kids we wait with our two young children.

If there is anything I’ve learned over the last seven years it’s not to put much stock in the status quo. It will change for better or for worse and where you are at the end of one year is likely to be light years from where you are at the end of the next.

A year ago today, having just discovered 5 days prior that I was finally, mercifully, joyously expecting my second child, I spent the eve of 2011 fearing the worst– that I was losing her, a thought not at all lost on me tonight as I nursed my precious 4 month old baby girl to sleep.

A year and a week ago I had lost all hope of ever even having a second child. Amazing how life changes.

Seven years ago when we were pondering the snowfall and planning our future we could never have imagined where we would be today, never imagined the people we would meet, the experiences we would have, the places we would go, the jobs we would hold, the things we would learn, the parents we would become, the life we would live. I can only hope the next seven years treat us as well. At least this time we know we’d better hang on tight for it’s an unpredictable and wild ride. At least this time we know we’re not really in the driver’s seat. At least this time we are mature enough to accept the change that our parents told us was an inevitable part of life.

I have not been very good about updating this blog and as I know I’ve said before it’s not for lack of wanting to. The ideas are there swimming around in my head often times fighting hard to get out. I have a plan for that and I’ll post about it in the coming days. But tonight is for reflection. Tonight is my chance to release this year for what it was and what it wasn’t and leave my mind and soul ready to welcome 2012. Release is a nice word quite frankly. Shove unceremoniously out the door is more what I have in mind. But as crummy as this year was, I can’t deny that it had its magical moments or that it led us to where we are now today and where we will be tomorrow. And I can’t deny that the lesson I take most to heart is probably one I’ve needed to learn for a long time– Have FAITH. It’s all there really is. It’s all you really can count on. I don’t know what 2012 holds but I have faith that we’ll get through it and that somehow, some way we will look back and know it was an important part of life’s fleeting and ever changing path. From the bottom of my heart, I wish you Joy, Faith, Wisdom, and Hope for the coming year. Good-bye 2011 and Welcome 2012.