Wait. — No Matter How Early.

I get up early, sunrise early, to take the dog for a walk.

Just as I am ready to head out the door with leash in hand, here comes the boy child toddling down the steps.

He wants to go with me if I can just wait for him to go get pants and socks.

So I wait.

That same child goes upstairs and wakes up his sister.

Really?

Now she wants to go, but she needs to find her shoes.

Sigh. So I wait.

Outside, the boy child now doesn’t want to walk, but ride his bike instead, which requires the garage door to be opened.

Finally, we walk.

And talk.

She holds my hand.

We make little discoveries in the grass and the trees together.

We watch the fog lift and the sun rise above the ridge together.

We chat about the day ahead and list the things we are looking forward to doing together.

We breathe in the morning breeze and I say a little prayer for another day we have together.

Sorry to everyone, Felix and the neighbors, for being noisy as we walked so early this morning.

Today.

This morning, knowing the heartache that is happening in Oklahoma…

This Momma just couldn’t say “No” to spending some time with my kiddos.

No matter how early.

Storm. — May the Calm Find You Quickly.

I’m not sure when the tornadoes happened today. Or the others yesterday. Or last night.

I might have been tucking in kids or in a meeting or finishing up at work. Or maybe I was on the t-ball field this afternoon taking batting helmets on and off of 5 year olds, managing minor dugout chaos.

I’m not sure what I was doing. And it seems like I should know.

I should know what I was doing in my life when the lives of so many were changing forever.

But that is not how it works, is it?

Storms like this happen. Storms of all kinds. Natural or not. There are disasters … there, while life continues semi-calmly on without notice…here.

But…Just yesterday, we were reminded of our call. Our charge. To be on Fire. To be on fire in the world.

So, today, this fire. This fire needs to start with some kindling. A spark that starts with prayer. Mighty Prayer.

For the lost. For the missing. For the rescuers. For the helpers. For the searchers. For the hurt. For the injured. For the survivors. For the changed. For the hopeless. For the helpless. For the heartbroken. For the broken.

I will try to be on fire. On fire, for you right now. And I will pray.

A mighty prayer. For the calm.

For God’s calm and comfort after the storm to find you all.

Soon.

Fire. — Balloons. Iron Man 3 and Birthday Cake. It Must Be Pentecost.

http://www.ajilbab.com

Happy Birthday, Church.

I love my little church in a little town doing big things.

I have to admit that I am not in attendance every given Sunday. Sometimes we are out of town. Sometimes my people are under the weather. Sometimes life gets in the way. Other sometimes I don’t have a good excuse for missing.

But then…when I am there, I always wonder why I ever miss at all.

First of all, my kids love this place. Which makes me happy. I loved going to church when I was a kid. Fellowship Baptist Church was like a second home to me we were there so often.

My kids also love that there are yummy things to eat there that they don’t get at home any more. Things like Bagels, muffins, and apple juice. (And we know that X has strong feelings about communion.) And there is an indoor playground. But more than that, they have made friends there. They love to play and hang out with some buddies that they only see when in this little church.

Then the service begins with some announcements and then three songs. Three songs that lift my spirit. Played by a rocking band of amateur musicians who volunteer their time and talent whenever they can. The players change, but the songs always inspire. I am not sure I can completely describe how I feel during these 12 minutes. But it is healing, refreshing, stress-reducing, energizing, soul-lifting, and more. I feel … better. No matter what my week was like, no matter my worries, my stresses, my fears or concerns…I feel better. The music is loud, so loud that I can sing loud and not hear my off-key notes. They display the words so I can sing along at the top of my lungs. Those words are moving, powerful, and somehow seem always meant for me. I don’t know how they do it, but it is always a playlist meant for me.

Then a little rendition of “Jesus Loves Me” brings the kiddos to the front for a children’s message. This is both sweet and chaotic. There is a microphone that is passed around and the kiddos get a chance to share things  they are excited about. My kiddos used to be so shy that they never spoke up. Now I hold my breath just a little to see if they share some random story. Today, X revealed that his Daddy is taking him to see Iron Man 3. Poor Kid, doesn’t know that we’ve screened it already and have deemed it just a tad bit violent for his little 5 year old eyes.  Looks like it will be a Redbox Rental with Mommy’s finger on the fast forward button for you, kid.

Then there is the message. If you are looking for fire and brimstone and squished toes, this may not be the right place for you.  I’m not sure, but some of us might just be deemed a bit liberal, non-traditional bunch. Because today our Minister managed to work in balloons, Iron Man 3, the chorus from Fall Out Boy’s “I Know What You Did in the Dark” and birthday cake into the sermon.

Because today was Pentecost. The birthday of the church.

The Day when the Holy Spirit came down. 50 days after Easter. The day we are supposed to renew ourselves to sharing, to being a community, to being called.  The day we are supposed to wear red as a symbol of a commitment to be on fire. To promise to go into the world and light ‘em up, so to speak. To inspire others as we can. To share as we can. To do our best and be the best we can be.

The Day we are supposed to show we are on fire in our lives. And invite others to come and watch us burn.

Believe. Share. Inspire.

Let’s All, Go. Do That.

(Show Up. On Any Given Sunday. And Everyday After.)

Attack. — Un Signo de Dio on the Softball Field.

I believe in signs. Just like one of my favorite lines from one of my favorite movies: “Under the Tuscan Sun.”

 I have started to pay closer attention to synchronicities in my everyday world. Little signs, little signals that I am where I am supposed to be, doing what I am supposed to be doing, talking with people I’m supposed to share with. 

 

These signs, they are everywhere. I can’t say for certain that these are signs from God–that might border on presumptuous. But maybe they are. And if they are, then I feel obligated to not only pay closer attention, but take action on any of these signs that come my way. 

 

And this one, … was such a bizarre one, … that I feel there must be a reason to write it down and share this story. 

 

Here goes. 

 

A funny thing happened on the way to the … softball field.

The phone rang.

It was a friend. But a busy, on the go friend, who is usually more likely to go for the quick text than an actual ‘stop and have a conversation’ phone call. Weird. But the conversation that came after my answering with a casual “Hey there” was even weirder.

First of all, there was a very unfamiliar panicked concern in her voice. It wasn’t right at all.

“Are you ok?” She asked me.

Yeah.

“Are you ok, really?!”  She almost…almost sounded like she was ready to cry, which started to concern me.

I responded with a  suspicious tone… Yeah. I have a little cold, but…

“Did anything bad happen today?!” I thought, well, clearly something bad has happened or you wouldn’t be calling me and asking me questions like this!

Ok, now you’re freaking me out.

“Oh my God. Ok. I’m calming down. Oh my God. Letting the cortisol come down a little….”

What in the world!? What is going on?!

“I just heard that you had had a heart attack on the soft ball field today!”

WHAT?! WHAT?!  (I’m betting that I started to sound like that Mom over the phone on “A Christmas Story” … )

The conversation continued and I reassured her again and again that I was fine. Just sitting here, relaxing on the couch. No signs of a heart attack. I haven’t been to the softball fields today. I’m not sure where this is coming from. This is crazy, but I’m fine.

Fine. But now a little freaked out at just the thought that someone out there thinks I had a heart attack. That is crazy. Right?

Y was sitting right beside me and I was too shocked to keep the conversation from her as I probably should have done. So, I used this as an opportunity to talk about rumors and how rumors get started and how rumors can unintentionally hurt or scare people…yada yada yada, …. insert brilliant parenting moment here.

But in my head, I kept thinking…Heart Attack? Me? Who would think that I could have a heart attack? How many people out there think that I have had a heart attack? Am I going to have people showing up with flowers and offers of dinner? Do I need to post something to let everyone know I’m ok?

And then it moved on to things like: I can’t have a heart attack! I’m just 40! I’m a health coach! I eat well and play more and choose happy and all that jazz! Sure, I haven’t been to the gym everyday for a while, but life’s been busy and there’s been traveling and people have had colds and fevers and such…yada yada yada, insert other plausible excuses here.

A heart attack? Me?

It took all evening and three different phone calls from three different concerned, loving friends to finally track down the origin of this story. As it turns out, a good Momma was trying to let her husband know about A’s Mom, (who is 80+ years old and might have had a heart attack). But on a noisy softball field, he misunderstood and heard “Y’s Mom” and thought … well, Me. He was shocked and shared the news out of concern to the hubs of one of my good friends who in turn, called his wife and shared the news out of shock and concern. She called a friend to see what was happening, and that is when my phone rang and this whole crazy story began.

Of course, we were all concerned about A’s Mom and keeping her close in our prayers. But we were all relieved that I was fine and this was just a misunderstanding.

And while we laughed off the whole misunderstanding of it all, I think it messed with us all just a bit. And that is when I started noticing the signs. I swear, all evening long, even while the girl child was watching the Disney channel, every other commercial on TV was something related to heart attacks or heart disease. I’m not kidding.  Then I started thinking about walking through the airport at O’Hare last week. There was a poster on the wall, that randomly caught my eye and made me stop to comment about how the ad was targeted to women.

Finally, this morning, I woke up and was having a little trouble going back to sleep. So, I checked my phone and found another sign: An advertisement about women and heart attacks.

Yeah, I think I’m supposed to share this story. Just in case. Just in case it helps one person.

More than 250,000 women in the U.S. die of a heart attack each year. Many don’t know the symptoms of a heart attack, which are often different for women compared to men, or how to prepare for them.

Warning Signs of a Suspected Heart Attack

• Chest pressure, tightness and heaviness
• Pain in shoulders, neck, jaw* or arms*
• Lightheadedness
• Paleness
• Faintness
• Sweating
• Nausea*
• Shortness of breath with or without chest pain*
• Extreme fatigue*

*More common in women

If you suspect you’re having a heart attack call 911 and crush or chew aspirin as directed by a doctor. Aspirin, when taken as directed by a doctor during a suspected heart attack and for 30 days thereafter, can reduce damage to the heart and reduce the risk of death by 23 percent.

 

Later, a friend shared that the she thought, “Crap. If Z has a heart attack, we are all screwed.” Which is funny, … but we know it happens. It has happened. So, take care of yourselves, people. Eat Well. Play More. Choose Happy.

Know the signs. And … Pay attention to the signs.

Elizabeth Banks teamed up with Go Red For Women in this short film on women, motherhood and recognizing the signs of a heart attack.  Just. In. Case. We’ve all had mornings like this… Know the signs.

For More Information:    www.heart.org or IamProHeart

Motivate. — Who knew the power of a MommyVerbs post!?

When I started this blog last year, I began on a journey to turn some daydreams into realities.  I wanted to inspire and motivate others to engage in the ‘verbs’ of their every day.

In short…. a little less conversation, a little more action. (Cue Elvis.)

Last night, MommyVerbs achieved just that.

A colleague and friend casually shared in passing conversation that she had been wanting to get a tattoo. I responded, “Why don’t you?”

All of her answers sounded so familiar, I felt like I could have been saying those words right along with her:

What if it hurts? What if I don’t like it? What if people judge me? My family doesn’t want me to do it. It is so … permanent!

And there it was. I told her that I said the exact same things before I got my 40th birthday, been talking about doing it since my 3oth birthday, tattoo last fall. But, I learned a lot from Carl…nothing is permanent.

Later that evening, I discovered a message from her, waiting for me:

“I have been wanting to get a Jesus fish for a longggg time and all the “what if’s?” stop me. It stops me in most of my big decisions. I love this and your story! You may have just given me the courage to go get “tatted up!” hee hee 

I replied in classic MommyVerbs style: “Go. Do what scares you just a little.”

And then…the very next day, another message:

“I did it! Just got home. I’m so excited! I did “what scares me…permanent”

Now there’s something I didn’t see coming when I started this blog. MommyVerbs is now an official encourager of folks to get their first tattoos! … Who’s next?!

A little less conversation. A little more action.

Mission accomplished I would say. And it only took her one day…took me 10 whole years.

Well done, you. Well done.

Isn’t it awesome?! Love it, Lauren!

Fever. — Is that a Verb? I can’t decide…

Every time I have a fever, I am reminded of the amazing machines that our bodies really are.

Seriously, when things are working right, our bodies maintain a lovely 98.6 degree temperature. And unless we go accidentally swimming in an icy pond for a long period of time, it will just stay there … at 98.6 degrees, with everything working perfectly.

But raise that temperature just a tiny little bit, to say 99.5 degrees and tah-dah…now you have a fever.

And you feel awful. And ache-y. And a little sad.

I usually don’t need a thermometer to tell me if I’m running a fever. There are a few symptoms I have come to know.

I can always tell if I have a fever because I get the chills and sweats. Oh yeah? You get that, too?

Well, I can also always tell if I have a fever because my eyes feel hot.

They do. Don’t laugh. It is not nice to laugh at an under the weather blogger Mom.

It’s mean, really. (I’m also a little sensitive when I’m running a fever…does it show?)

Other symptoms of fever for me come in the form of not being able to make decisions. Even the easiest of choices feel completely overwhelming, so please don’t bother trying to get me to decide if I need medicine or not. And if you think I might on some planet want or need a blanket, just bring me one, don’t ask me if I want one. Then don’t act surprised if I cry when you ask me if I am hungry and if I want something to eat.

Because with a fever, I’m most likely to win the ‘Cries A Lot’ award. (A little sensitive, see?)

But Felix probably can tell you the most obvious symptom of all when I am running a fever.

He. Can. Say. Nothing. Right.

Poor guy. I’m not entirely sure how to help him. But it is true. He can barely utter a word that I don’t take as condescending or bossy or judge-y.

*****************************************************************************************************

But then again, I got 2  texts from Felix from X’s ball game that I missed tonight.

The first one:  ”It is like watching the Bad News Bears…playing in the dirt, picking noses, doing twirls… oh my. “

And then:  QUOTE: “Rest. Feel Better. (Said in a soft, warm tone.)” END QUOTE.

Hang in there, Felix.

I think I’m feeling better.

My eyes aren’t that hot anymore (and I’ll hit the green smoothie with oranges added tomorrow.)

Experiment. — Dear Mom: Motherhood is a Science and Patience is not a variable.

A WordPress Daily Prompt: Hi Mom!

Dear Mom,

It is true. It is true what they say.

I have looked all over the place. I tell my family when they can’t find the missing thing: “You’re good looking. But you’re a bad looker.” But I really can’t find it. And I’m a pretty good looker.

These kids. They don’t come with an instruction book.

So Moms everywhere are left to do what Moms everywhere do.

We make it up. We try it out. We ask questions and seek out answers.

In short, we experiment.  From Day One. We experiment.

With different routines. With different foods. With different philosophies.

We read the books. We seek out advise. We watch others.

And then you know what? We do the best we can. Everyday.

We show up. We mess up. We try to make it fun along the way.

Motherhood is just one big experiment.

From Day One, when you are handed that little bundle of question marks and bring them home it is all about trying to figure them out.

If only it were as easy and as logical as the scientific method:

Ask a Question: Why won’t this baby stop crying?

State a Hypothesis: Maybe it is hungry.

Conduct an experiment: Feed it.

Analyze the results: It is not crying anymore. But eating peacefully.

Make a conclusion: The baby was hungry. Remember that for next time.

Sure. That one was easy, and we can apply it to having a crappy diaper or having trouble going to sleep or sleeping in their own beds or having a tummy ache or getting carsick.

But then the experiments get a lot harder:

Ask a Question: How can I raise confident and compassionate kiddos?

State a Hypothesis: With a combination of strict but supportive; lots of routines with a little spontaneity; then throw in a little modeling and expectation setting.

Conduct an experiment: Everyday. Since Day one. Try out different schedules, different foods, different activities and conversations.

Analyze the results: As you lay down to go to sleep and reflect/obsess about the day and how it went for everyone.

Make a conclusion: Do the best you can.

It is hard work.

And when I interviewed you, you said you wish you had had more patience. 

I am here to let you know that in my almost eight years of running trials and research and experiments, I have come to discover that there is no such thing as more patience.

Seriously. That is not how I remember it growing up. When I think of you as my Mom, I don’t think of you as not having patience. I think of you as my Mom. Perfect for me and my brother.

You were there.

You showed up.

You took care of us.

You made things fun.

You cooked us dinners and tried your best to turn them into family events.

You smushed and shushed our ears everynight at bed times.

You sang and played music.

You let us have a million friends over all the time.

You had rules.

You didn’t let us ride our bikes past the stop sign.

And when we did wreck our bikes, and split open our chins, you took us to get stitches, not worrying about the blood on the new car interior.

You let us play in sprinklers and baked us cupcakes.

You helped us with school projects and homework and reading and math.

You made holidays fun and instilled in me the importance of family and tradition.

You let us cut up a huge refrigerator cardboard box, turning into a house that you were sure would fall apart in a week, but turned out to have a life of at least 6 months.

You introduced me to the saga of “Copacabana” by Barry Manilow and watched my friends and I reinact the saga ad nauseum.

You signed us up for ball teams and took us to all of the practices and games.

You cheered for us from the sidelines, from the bleachers, from a lawn chair or blanket on the grass.

You moved us when you thought it was right and let us go see “The Karate Kid” 12 times in the theater because you thought it might make me feel better.

You laughed with us. You played with us.

You taught us how to drive. You held your breath when we wrecked our cars. And said many prayers afterwards.

You watched us carefully through relationships, bad and good and prayed some more, I’m sure.

You came to our defense countless times. You championed our dreams. You put things on hold to make them happen.

You wiped our tears when they didn’t turn out they way we planned.

You encouraged us to go and do.

You became an excellent example of a Mom of adult children, which is not always an easy thing to do.

You. …

Motherhood is an experiment. There are way too many variables to control for.

But you showed up. You asked the questions and analyzed the results.

And for all that you did and all that you are, I am thankful for the loving reminder that there is no such thing as more patience.  You see. It is Mother’s Day and I have a cold or something and I’m not feeling well. And I just fussed and made my kiddos leave my room because they were arguing with each other.

And I regretted it, feeling like I should have had more patience with them.

But then I remembered, there is no such thing as more patience in Motherhood.

Because we just do what we do.

Love,

Me. Your Daughter. A Mom.

An impatient Research Scientist, conducting my own experiments since 2005.

 

Mother. — Four Generations: On Being Kids–On Being Moms

Four Generations, circa 1974. Check out Blanche, my Great-Grandmother, Betty, my Grandmother, Janet, my Momma and little baby Sharon.

In celebration of MommyVerbs’ first Mother’s Day,

I give you a four generation look at

Moms and Kids since 1928.

Betty/Mom/Maw Betty/White Maw

Born in 1928

Raising 4 kids in the ‘50s and ‘60s

Janet/Momma/Nana

Born in 1949

Raising 2 kids in the ‘70s and ‘80s

Sharon/Momma

Born in 1972

Raising her 2 kiddos well, today.

Y: Born in 2005

Being a pretty awesome kid, everyday.

On Being a Kid:

When you were a kid, what are three adjectives that describe your Mom’s mothering style?

Betty: My Momma was just wonderful. She was strict when she needed to be, but also lenient and understanding. She was just a good friend to us girls. I can’t pick just three words, that’s too hard.

Janet: My Mom is nurturing. She is protective. And when I provoked her, as I sometimes did, she could be lovingly volatile … but those make for some of our best stories today.

Sharon: As a kid, I always thought my Mom was cool. She was available for us. My Mom was fun and she let us have fun.

Y: What’s an adjective? (pausing to give a quick grammar lesson…) Loving. Funny. Helping.

What are two of the your favorite memories of your Mom, growing up?

Betty: My Momma allowed us to have our friends over and we wore out rugs dancing on the living room floor. We would eat popcorn and other treats.  She was good to let us do things like that.  When we started dating, she would be stay awake, waiting for us. Then we would come in and sit on the edge of her bed to tell her about our date that evening.  She would listen to all of  the details and she was always so excited for us.  But she was strict too and she expected us to be home at a certain time and follow her rules.

There are endless things to make her a wonderful mother. She was my best friend growing up. I can’t narrow the list to two favorite memories. That is not enough to describe what she meant to me. She’s been gone since 1997 and I miss her everyday.

(By the way, she’s my Grandmother, my lovely and beautiful Maw Betty…I didn’t make her follow my rules.)

Janet: My Mom was always so good to try to get me help for whatever I needed.  She was proactive and always tried to meet our needs. I was always very proud of her, she was so pretty. But of course, like most kids, I would get embarrassed when my Mom would come to school to bring cupcakes or something.

I remember that she always played with us when we were little. She taught me to dance. As a matter of fact, she taught all of my friends to dance, too.  We would jitterbug in the kitchen.

I was scared of the dark until I was 12. She slept with me so I wouldn’t be scared.

And then I’ll always remember when we were arguing when I was in high school, and she said, “When you graduate I’m going to get you a set of luggage and have it waiting on the front porch.”

Of course, she didn’t and I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get any luggage. <3

(By the way, she’s my Mom, my lovely and beautiful Momma…I didn’t make her follow my rules, either.)

Sharon: My Mom really worked to make things fun. She was intentional about birthdays and holidays and always trying to make family time fun. She let us really play and make messes. We built houses out of cardboard boxes that lived in her living room for months and months.

She taught me what I know about appreciating good music. She still misses her Eagles album, circa 1976.

My Mom worked really hard to try to get us to Eat Well, even back in the day, trying new things. (Kind of like I do now, when I make quinoa and call it ‘curly rice’.)  I remember her preparing dinner one night that we were suspicious of when she was calling it ‘chicken parts’ aka chicken liver.

(And apparently, I don’t follow my own rules of two memories either.)

Y: My favorite memories are when we went together to get a manicure and pedicure. That was a lot of fun being fancy together. Then we went to Sweet Frogs. I also liked when we went to the movie theater together. That is always fun.

(But, … I seem to make Y follow the rules of two memories. Really, she just wasn’t feeling all that talkative today. And she was looking at me funny the whole time I was asking her these questions.)

 What is one question you would like to ask your Mom?

Betty: I would want to know what she thinks of kids today compared to how I was as a child. Living is just so much faster and parents are struggling with raising their kids. I would want to know what she would do to help guide them today, when parents have to be so careful?  I am so thankful that I raised my children in the time that they were raised. It was simpler times.

Janet:  Why won’t you sell your house and move up here with me? <3

Sharon: Did you get to do all of the things you wanted to do?

Y: Do you like being a Mom?

On Being a Mom:

What are three adjectives to describe Motherhood:

Betty: This is too hard, Sharon. I can’t give you three words to describe Motherhood.  I always wanted to be a mother. It was a goal I had when I was little. And when I became a Mom, I decided that I would be the best Mom ever. I enjoyed doing things with the children.

I always wanted the kids to get my advice on things.

I always think of the kids and how they needed me when they were scared or sick. I remember when the kids got their first jobs and how nervous they were. I remember the night before Jim started his first job at the radio station, I could hear him sighing heavily, frustrated because he couldn’t get to sleep. So I went in there and sat with him so he could get some sleep. He was so nervous.

I’ve enjoyed being a Mother so much. Jan is special. The boys are special. Chris is special to me. I worry about them all, but Chris is just so far away, I worry about him more.

Janet:  Rewarding. Wonderful. Exhausting.

Sharon: Balancing. Engaging. Intentional.

What are two things that you are really good at as a Mom?

Betty: I was always really good at being there for them. Being there when they need me. I really tried to see to it that they had a good time. And I also tried to encourage them to go in God’s path and tried to teach them to let God lead. I wasn’t always good at that, but still tried to do that when I could.

Janet: I was always there for you. Even though I sometimes felt like I lost my temper, I feel like I always made sure you knew that I loved you. I feel like I did a good job…you and your brother make me very proud, so I must have done a good job.

Sharon: I am trying to be an intentional parent. I really work on ‘finding my zen’ when I get frustrated. I hear me saying things that I heard my Mom say, “Hurry, hurry, Momma’s getting tired…” I see my kiddos scurrying just like we did when I was a kid and my Momma would say the same thing. I think I’m fun and I try to play with you and have a good time, maybe not as much as they would like sometimes, but we try to play some games and make some memories.

What is one thing you would do differently?

Betty: I remember when we moved into our new house, everything had just been painted and we thought it was just perfect and beautiful.  Just after we moved in, Tim put some history pictures on the wall in his bedroom.  I was so aggravated with him that he put them on the wall with paste and I made him take them off. Of course, it made such a mess and pulled the paint off. If I had to do that over, I wouldn’t have made such a big deal out of that. Kids like to hang things on the wall, I would have let him keep those up because it was important to him.  It was a big deal for a little boy.  I also regret not getting a yearbook for Jan one year. At the time, I felt like it was that or getting groceries one week, but if I had to do it over…I would find a way to get it for her because it was important to her.

Janet: I wish I had had more patience.

Sharon: I feel like I’m still in the trenches, making adjustments daily.  I wish I were more balanced in my days and weeks. I feel like Y is a little walking talking mirror of me as a kid. I see it as a responsibility to build resiliency. I want X and Y to be confident and compassionate. So, I want to make sure I am modeling this. Everyday. Tough work. Good work, but tough work.

Four Generations of Moms and Kids.

Things have changed and somehow stayed the same.

Moms show up and…

…Engage each day in action words.

I learned from the best.

 Happy Mother’s Day.

Everyday.

Love.

   

Compliment. — The Ultimate for Any Mom.

Some people say that the best compliment for any Momma or Daddy is the moment that your child either mumbles under their breath or yells, “I HATE YOU!”

Those same people say that is when you truly know you are doing your job as a parent. Because you are standing up. You are saying NO. You are not being friendly, or fun, or popular. But you are standing your ground for what is right as a parent.

That particular phrase hasn’t been hurled at me just yet, but my X and Y are young–I’m sure that there is still lots of time for that — although I’m not particularly looking forward to it or anything.

Instead, I have been holding out and waiting for what I consider to be the ULTIMATE in compliments when it comes to my Mommyhood style.

The compliment of …. “I’m so glad YOU are MY Mom.”

I still remember the moment that I paid this compliment to my own Mom. It was the moment that I discovered that I had it really good when it came to the MOM department.  That I was really lucky and fortunate and very thankful to have her.

I had spent the night with a friend. We were having a fun time, but I just wasn’t that comfortable around this friend’s Momma. Don’t get me wrong, she was lovely and friendly and generous and delightful. She just had a different style, a different tone, a different way of doing things. And it was all so foreign to me that I started missing the comforts of my own home, my own Momma.

I still remember coming home that weekend, hugging my Momma and telling her, “I’m so glad YOU are MY Mom.” And better yet. I really meant it.  I loved my Mom and still do. I loved her style. I loved her tone. I loved how she did things. She was mine. She was just perfect for me. And still is.

And while I’m in no hurry to receive feedback from my kiddos in the form of an impassioned “I HATE YOU!”, I did have my own opportunity to receive the ULTIMATE compliment from my Y a couple of weeks ago.

She had gone over to a friend’s house for a playdate. When she came home, she hugged me and said that her friend’s Mom was really tough on her friend. She explained that her friend was frustrated and threw something down in anger. Her Mom pulled her friend to the side and told her quietly that she would be grounded for the next two days for acting like that. Y interpreted that as being really harsh…”Two days with no friends over?! Just for throwing that thing down because she was mad? That seems like a lot of punishment for something so little.”

And then she hugged me again and said the words: “I’m so glad YOU are MY Mom!”

To be clear, I came to the other Mom’s defense as I know her to be good and reasonable and explained this to Y.

But in my head, I was fist pumping with a little “YES!” while doing a little happy dance.

For I had just been handed the ULTIMATE in Mom compliments.

“YES!“

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

P.S. If you are struggling to come up with a good compliment for your MOM or DAD or anyone else really, you need to check out www.emergencycompliment.com. Keep refreshing for new ones until you will find one that works for you! Guaranteed to make you smile! Like this: “Your prom date still thinks about you all the time.” OR “Everyone was super jealous of your SAT score.” OR “You could be an astronaut if you wanted to. NASA so told me so.” OR (last one I swear!) “You have the power to start and WIN a dance-off.” Just sayin’.

Trust. — Just Say NO to Grape Hubba Bubba Bubble Gum.

I might be wrong. It is true. It does happen sometimes. (More often than I would like to admit, actually.)

I have been preaching the virtues of PLAY MORE. I have been encouraging Moms and Dads round the world (well, round my little blogosphere) to say YES more. Say YES. Build the fort. Play the game. Toss the ball.

But I might be wrong.

Because what Moms and Dads may really need to be saying more of is NO.

I think maybe we might all need to be saying NO just a little bit more.

Sure. NO is so much less fun and exciting than YES.  You make no friends by saying NO. You do not win the popularity contests by saying NO.

But fun and friends and popularity are not the reasons we signed up for this parenting gig, right?

Tonight I was reminded why ‘NO’ is still such an important word in a Mom and Dad’s vocabulary.

It all comes out at bedtime, doesn’t it? I’m winding them down, I’m tucking them in, I’m seeing the end of the day is almost within my reach …when here she comes back into my room in tears. With a confession.

Earlier this week, sometime, she can’t remember when, she was watching TV. She stumbled upon an ‘Emergency Room’ type show that she knows isn’t on her ‘approved’ list of watching. She watched parts of it. And now she’s scared and can’t go to sleep.

I know I’m not telling you anything when I say, “This parenting gig is a tough one.”

My first overreaction is to want to remove all TVs from the house. My next reaction is to fuss at her for watching something that she shouldn’t have been watching. This is quickly followed by a dreaded thought of … OMG, what did she see that is now in her little head forever? Finally landing on, I need to update those parental controls on the TV. Or … just get rid of the TVs all together.

Y was then ridden with the mixed emotions of scared, overtired, and guilty… a terrible concoction to partake in as you are trying to go to sleep. We talked for a long time. She cried. I tried to think really fast and stay calm through it all. She cried some more. And I tried very hard to be supportive, yet firm, without making her feel worse than she already did. She is her Mother’s daughter by the way, so I’m fairly sure the guilt she will feel will outweigh any punishment I could hand out.

It is just like the Hubba Bubba bubble gum story.

(Would you like to learn more? Well, since you are curious now, I’ll tell you…)

When I was probably in third grade or so, just about Y’s age, my Mom told me NOT to chew gum after brushing my teeth at night. Makes sense to me now, but at the time, I couldn’t get past the NO of it all. So, you know how this goes…I brush my teeth, I go to bed, I oh-so-secretly pop in a piece of grape Hubba Bubba bubble gum and proceed to enjoy its sugary yumminess, damn the consequences of cavities. I thought if I chewed quietly, no one would be the wiser.

The only problem is, you can smell grape flavored Hubba Bubba bubble gum at least a half mile away. I think the manufacturers did that on purpose to sell more gum, maybe.

I imagine my Mom saw the purple haze from my room just as she smelled it. She peeked her head into my doorway and simply said, “Are you chewing gum?”

Cue the drama and guilt and tears and shame and embarrassment and disappointment … and that was all me. I’m sure if I asked my Mom about it,  she might remember it differently. But this is how I have written this story and I remember this — Our conversation included these words:  ”I just want to be able to trust you.”

Just the thought of someone not being able to trust me, much less my own Momma equaled utter devastation.

But come on. She was right. Duh. One shouldn’t chew massive amounts of artificial dyes and a million grams of sugar at night. The answer was always NO. As it should be.

Too many kids never hear NO. All they hear is YES. For whatever reason.

It is easier to say YES. It is more fun to say YES. It is more popular to say YES.

When, in our parenting heart of hearts, we know the right answer is NO.

Because there are things they shouldn’t do. There are places they shouldn’t go. There are things they shouldn’t see or hear.

This parenting gig is a tough one.

I may need to adjust my philosophy a little more: Eat Well. Play More. (Say NO more.) Choose Happy. It’s a work in progress. I could be wrong again.

I did end the evening with Y with very wise words that were once shared with me:

“There is nothing you can do that can make me love you less. There is nothing you can do that can make me love you more.”

Because I love you that much.

Even when I say NO.

(P.S. Not to worry, I got those parental controls updated tonight. Nothing like a little motivation from a 7 year old.)