Balance

Wow, it's been awhile. It's not that I'm not moved to write posts, it's that by the time I have a moment to sit and write, I forget my inspiration. Piper, almost done with her Kindergarten year - amazingly - is growing into a beautiful, sweet, loving, and sharp little girl. Quinn, now 3, is finding her own way. Struggling to be like her big sis, yet her own person. Her aversion to someone else getting attention is rearing it's little curly head. She loves to be in the center of attention. And most of the time Piper is content to let her have it.

As the kids grow, Brooks and I are slowing finding more time for ourselves. I'm taking guitar lessons, he's joined a gym. and my identity as mom continues to evolve as well. My involvement in their life is becoming less "life and death" and more of a choice. It makes for big time internal struggles. I know I need time for me and should take it now and then. And I do. But at the same time, I know this time with them is so short and so very sweet. My little Quinny has 2 more years at home before she goes to Kindergarten. Those years are going to fly. I don't want to ever look back and feel I should've spent more time coloring, playing princess, taking walks and going to parks with her. And Piper, in a couple years, will probably not care as much if I'm at her school once a week volunteering. At this time, it is something SO special to have HER MOM! in her classroom helping out. I choose to be there because it is one way I can let her know that her life at school is important to me. I want to know her friends. I want to know her teachers. I want to see her grow and learn. Not because I'm afraid of her making bad choices or misbehaving, but because I will not let go of being involved in her life. In some way. Every day. Now, don't worry. I know there is a healthy balance in that and we as a family strive for that balance between love and support and encouraging independence. But I have this feeling of time slipping away and I am trying to revel in the beauty of this time, laugh though it's challenges and step back and appreciate this time for what it is.
It is one sister not getting out of the car until she hugs and kisses the other good bye. It is eating breakfast on the kitchen floor in front of the heater, cuddled in blankets. It is "you're the best mommy ever". It is "Mom! I tied my shoes!" It is "Mom, we're supposed to dress like oVIParous animals - not OVI-PARous animals." It is teddy bear dance class. It is morning snuggles in my bed. It is "Mommy, I need you" in the middle of the night. It is "I can DO IT...will you help me please?". It is interestingly self-designed outfits that somehow work for them. It is my big girl who is in a princess dress one minute and wrestling with her boy-friend the next. It is super speedy and flying by. It is sweet and frustrating and wonderful just the way it is.
So I'm trying to choose each day to find balance. Much needed time for me, balanced with sweet sweet time with my girls before it is no longer a choice. As my children grow and I evolve as their Mom, it's all I can hope for.

The age old question.....

Is it nature? Or nurture? How do these things happen? I watch my girls growing up together and pray and pray and pray and hope and hope and hope that they LOVE each other when they have a choice. In our house, right now, they have no choice. But I hope that leads them to the right choice in the future. Here's where I'm coming from: my sister T and I. We are close. SO close. Sometimes annoyingly close (to those around us, i.e. husbands). But it wasn't always this way. Picture it: 1988ish. I'm 12, T's 16. We're home alone after school, parents still at work. An argument over TV erupts, violence ensues. She's got me pinned to the ground, laughing. THEN plays the spit game where she slowly lets her spit string out of her mouth, stopping it just before it hits my face. Flash forward: 1989ish. I'm a Frosh at a HUGE high school. It's her third (and last) year there. She comes up to me at lunch time - I'm so relieved. Here's my big sis! I'm not alone! Oh, what's that? You need lunch money? Oh, ok.......bye?

But, to be fair, I'm struggling to come up with memories. We are siblings. We sometimes treat each other like dirt because no one else will take it and sometimes....we need someone to take teenage angst (or toddler angst) out on. Someone who will still love you when it's over. I'm sure she has similar stories about me. NO need to share them T! I know I did my share of sibling yuck. My point to this is: How did we end up so close?

Yes, we still argue. There was a big one a couple years ago at Thanksgiving that took us a month or so to get over. (She, being the bigger person, brought it up finally). But, the "snits" are fewer and far between and interspersed with such warm love and affection, they are almost negligible.

So, now, as a parent of two girls, I'm faced with "how do I give this to them?". How do I make sure they have the loving relationship I know they can have? I meet so many people on a daily basis, mostly at work. We end up talking a lot. Often, it ends up sounding like a counseling session (sometimes for them, sometimes for me!). I hear stories of broken up families. Siblings that "don't talk". How. how does this happen? And how can I keep it from happening to my girls. Their relationship is so precious...to ME. How can I make it so precious..... to them. What happens when family members just decide to cut other family members, especially siblings, out of their lives? What can be so powerful to make them do that? Does it happen because one sibling feels inferior or less loved by their parents? Is it because they are just so different in their personalities that they could never get along?

Here's what I know. I know my Dad always said:"Someday, she'll be your best friend." He was right.

Here's what I know. My parents never took sides.

Here's what I know. My sister and I are VERY different, but cut from the same cloth.

Here's what I know. We loved and hated each other with the same intensity at different times in our lives, but the love part had endurance. The hate was merely a sprint. Always.

I know our family was always put first by our parents.

I know our parents didn't have the same relationship with THEIR siblings that we do with each other.

I know there is something special between T and I.

I DON'T know how that happened.

But. I do know, I will take my job as a mom seriously, as I always have. And being a mom to more than one kid....it's a new job description. I am now: referee, counselor, teacher and guide with the utmost responsibility on my shoulders. I now need to figure out how to teach these girls how to love each other. No. Matter. What. Big sigh. It's a big responsibility. Thank goodness I have a good example to draw from.

***sorry no pics with this post - I don't currently have access to my pics. I'll add some deathly cute sibling pics soon. ;) ***

One More Warning!

Recently, the girls and I went to Green Bay, Wisconsin in an attempt to visit my paternal Grandmother, Grandma DeWitt, before she passed away. Much to my dismay, she passed 6 days before our scheduled arrival. Regardless, we carried on with our scheduled trip, as my mom and sister were also going and we knew we could be of assistance to my Aunt in settling Grandma's affairs. Plus, a weekend with all the girls is always a blessing. Piper and Quinn did great on the plane - which is always daunting when it's 2 kids to 1 parent. However, sharing a bedroom is something they don't get to do often and BOY, did they get their kicks out of that! I'm all for a little fun in situations like that - after all, I have very fond memories of getting to sleep with my sister on Christmas Eve's and other various and sundry occasions; laughing and giggling until we just passed out. However. After 4 or 5 very loud and myserious bumps and peels of laughter loud enough to crack even the most frozen of tundras I had to lay down the hammer. A few times. (Apparently that night I was carrying a cute little pink "HER tool box" hammer good for only the smallest of picture hanging jobs.) I was running out of threats. So, I gave it the ole "I am NOT giving you one more warning...." (I really meant it this time.) As I walked out, Piper wined "I WANT one more warning...." Then as the door closed, a little louder, "I want one more WARNING." Then, a little louder, " I want ONE MORE WARNING!". And finally, at all 10 decibels, "ONE - MORE - WARNING!!!!!" That became the mantra for the next 10 minutes. "ONE - MORE - WARNING!!!" As sobs turned into snores my Mom, sister and I laughed at her persistence and had ONE -MORE - glass of wine.

Then came February. I know, in this household we were glad to see it. January had not been kind. My Mom's mom, Nana (or Nana Bunny as the girls call her) had been fighting pneumonia for weeks and my Mom called regularly with updates. My mom is the ultimate optimist. Sometimes to a fault. So when she starts calling with "updates" on her mother on a daily or every other day basis and is not always positive about how it's going to turn around, you worry. Add this to a recent "swing and miss" with Grandma DeWitt and we all got a little sketchy. Within a couple of days my sister and I both had flights home to spend some time with Nana. Whether she 'went' tomorrow or in 5 years, no one wanted to feel like they had missed an opportunity to tell her how much she was loved. As it turned out, gratefully, Nana recovered and while we were there, though she was tired and a little less "there" mentally than when we last saw her, she still played a mean game of cards. I had my moments with her. I told her what a gift she was to me and how much I loved her. She felt it. She knows it. I know she knows it. I am at peace with it.

While there, Mom and T reminded me of "ONE MORE WARNING!". The similarities between the situations struck me hard. Nana, once an amazingly strong, self sufficient, independent woman, had become child like - needing her daughter to help her sequence taking off a sweater. And needing to be told "what do I do now?". And, even more childlike, needing reassurance that she was ok. That she was where she needed to be and was doing what she needed to be doing. By the way, the grace with which both my mother and her mother handle this is beautiful and inspiring. Nana knows she is "losing it". And she just accepts it as "how it's supposed to be, I suppose...." and gives the reigns over to Mom. Mom gracefully, patiently and gently guides Nana, her mother, through the minutia of daily life as only an amazingly compassionate mother can. When reminded of my own child asking for one more warning, I realized that what happened with Grandma DeWitt was "one more warning" for me. And what was happening then with Nana was one more gift. I am so sorry I missed my chance to tell Grandma DeWitt in person how much I loved her, how much she meant to me. But I am, and will be continually be, grateful for my one more warning that gifted me special and meaningful time with my Nana. And every moment I get with her after this will be treasured and not taken for granted. I hope we have many more games of Gin Rummy in our future and I hope she continues to whip all of our butts. Grandma D, thank you for all the "gushy Grandma hugs" and one last warning to love as much as you can, when you can. And Nana and Mom, thank you for one more gift.

Googly Eyes

Yep. Both girls got glasses this summer. Craziness. I'm still not convinced it's not a sham. They had eye doctor appointments in the same week. First Quinny - yep, glasses it is. Then a couple of days later, Piper - yep, glasses! At first my vanity took over and I started feeling sorry that I wouldn't get to see those 4 beautiful eyes without seeing my own reflection looking back at me. Then I pep-talked myself into being ok with it. I mean, after all - of all the medical "issues" children can and do have? Really? I'm going to be upset about them wearing glasses? I guess I can get over it....

OK, but how do I get them over it? THAT is the question. Piper got hers first on a Thursday evening. I got home from work and out walked this sweet little librarian looking nymph. Shyly smiling at me through her new specs, awaiting my response. OH! I know it sounds cheesy, but my heart swelled and I was SO proud of my little "big girl". The next day was our nephews' adoption party. When Piper and her daddy walked up to her cousin, the first thing he said was: "Wow! I love your glasses!". Ok! Off to a good start! As the party went on, Piper became less and less excited about wearing her glasses. They kept slipping down her nose. They kept getting dirty. They got caught in her hair. And the other kids kept asking "Why are you wearing glasses?" To which she had no answer....Mom stepped in and said, "So she can see better!"

"Why, are her eyes bad?". Bad? Bad?! NO! Nothing on MY child is BAD! "BAD" is such a bad word! Not bad! Not bad! I fumbled, stumbled and flubbed. Most of all I did not want Piper to feel like she was inferior to anyone JUST because she had glasses! I think I just said something lame like "NO, not bad, just....not good...." Um. Yes. That's MUCH better mom. (Well I guess that might keep Piper from asking me to stand up for her in the future!)

It was the first time I've ever had a child in a situation where teasing became a real possibility. I could just hear the taunts "4-eyes, 4 eyes! Nah nah na na nah nah!". It made me cringe. It made me sad. It made me realize - I need to get over it. It's not about me. It's not about my kids being inferior. Yes, they are going to be different than kids without glasses. So? Don't I tell my kids that different is ok? Why is it ok for other people, but not my kids? Can't different be really special? And don't I HOPE that they CHOOSE to be different sometimes?

I know, I know. Glasses are really no big deal. But when it's your kids - it's different.

I have to say I am so proud of how they have both taken their glasses in stride. Piper wears them now without complaint and loves noticing others who wear glasses: the girl in her dance class, Grandma, Grandpa, the babysitter, and now even her cousin who thought her glasses were so cool! Quinny took to hers like a natural. Piper had had her glasses for about 5 days before she got hers- which definitely helped. And, she can SEE. You should have seen her looking around the house her first day with glasses. Like she had never seen it before. She does take them off occasionally to get my attention, but I didn't have to - as my best friend suggested - put the cardboard inserts of paper towel rolls over her elbows to keep her glasses on. (Take a minute for that visual - I guarantee a giggle.)

So, as usually happens, my girls have taught me a valuable lesson. As I look at my reflection in their glasses I gain insight into my insecurities as a mom, my imperfections and the things that make me different. And I see warm loving black-coffee brown and deep ocean blue smiling back at me, not getting what I was so wound up about.

Happy Birthday Mama!

For some reason, I had it in my head that my birthday was going to be nothing special this year. I prepared myself for it a few days ahead of time. Life is just so busy right now and everyone seems overloaded with their own crazy lives. So I was not expecting much. Then, I had bookclub (aka "wine club") two nights before my birthday. I can't remember if I've mentioned my bookclub before. But it is an amazing group of women. We come together every month (or 6 weeks, sometimes 8 weeks when life gets REALLY crazy) and laugh, cry, eat, drink, be merry, OH! and talk about books. We are a group with varied interests, in different places in our lives, and we all respect our differences and embrace them, which is why it is such a magical group. That night, out of nowhere, they produce a sunflower (my favorite flower) cupcake with a candle and sing "Happy Birthday" to me. I was SO touched. It was so unexpected and welcomed.

Then the morning of my birthday arrived. It was a Monday, one of the days I work. I woke Piper up to bring her to her Grandparents for the day and told her it was my birthday. She just lit up like a birthday cake candle and got SO excited. "When's your party? Are we going to have cake? What am I giving you? What are you going to wear? What am I going to wear? Can I wear my Pink-Dress-That-You-Fixed?" (I sewed a hole - Holly Homemaker I am NOT). Her excitement was rather contagious.

Then I dropped her off and my father in law forgot to wish me a Happy Birthday. (I forgive you!!!) Then I got to work and no one remembered it was my birthday. Then I got grumpy. Really grumpy. (Is it just me, or is there something about birthdays that make you extra sensative?) Then....

Throughout the day I got voicemails, emails, facebook posts, phone calls and texts from all those I love. I mean - like EVERYONE. Then Brooks stopped by work to give me a birthday kiss. Despite my apparent determination to make this birthday suck, it was turning out pretty well. Then I got home and Brooks's parents were there, there was my favorite pizza in the oven, cards from everyone and a cake made by Piper (with a little help from Grandma). Piper had her friend MacKenzie over and wa-LA. Birthday party for grumpy little Mia. And can I just tell you that there is nothing like a 3-going-on-4 year old's excitement about a birthday party and cake to make you smile despite yourself.

So, yes, birthdays - for me, anyway- have the potetial to make you feel really sensitive and disappointed. But they also have the power to make you feel so loved, appreciated, missed and special. That's how this one turned out this year. I'm so grateful to have turned another year. Thank you all who make my life something special. I am so truly blessed.

Needing

Wow, it's been awhile since I've blogged. So much has changed, yet it's all just the same... Quinny is walking, babbling, showing her strong spirit and showing her strong love more and more everyday. Piper is.....Piper is.....Well, Piper is 3. Some days Piper is so mature, has real conversations with you (without whining), shares (without whining), eats (you guessed it, without whining), smiles, laughs and loves. Some days, not so much. We have hit our first, of many I'm sure, mom versus daughter stages. Why is it that it's so easy to enter into power struggles with a 3 year old? I mean really? What do I have to prove? And to who? I think what it comes down to is this. My first Job in this crazy life is "Mom". It's first because it's most important. It's first because it's my most loved position. It's first because it will not take a back seat to anything. Including my ego. Which I have to remind myself of in situations like these. The power struggle is entered because I feel a need sometimes to "win one". Just this one. Please. Because I need to feel in charge. Because I've been feeling like I'm not running the show. And when it's my first job, my most important job, my most loved job, that I feel I'm not in control of, I fight. I'm not saying it's the correct reaction, it's just that, a reaction. From the gut. Ask anyone who knows me well and they'll tell you, I'll fight to protect what I love. So in a weird convoluted way, I'm fighting, entering these power struggles because I love her and I love my job as her mommy.

It's so difficult sometimes to push your mood, your needs, your desire to "check out" aside and push forward. Onward weary soldier. This isn't every day. In fact it's not most days. Most days, it's just life. It's just hanging with my girls. It's just having lunch, having naps, and having a good time at the park. But some days. Some days. I am a soldier. A really grumpy one. And on those days, it's hard to just be mommy and not be mommy with an ego and something to prove. I realize, on those days, that on each day I actually walk a pretty thin line between mommy and Ego Mommy.

Three year olds are a needy bunch. They need love. They need understanding. They need patience. They need to put their shoes on by themselves, and then they need you to help them figure out which is the right foot. Some days, like today, I hear all day: "Mommy I need (fill in the blank)." Over and over again. Today, after Piper's Daddy came home and I had had a few moments to sooth Ego Mommy's soul, Piper and I were cuddling and she said "Mommy I need.... I need..... I need you." Well said love bug. You do need me. You need me to just be mommy. You are three. And I? I need you. I am your thirty-three year old mommy. And I need you.

Strong

I feel strong. It feels good. I'm able to do poses in yoga I have never been able to do before. I'm enjoying running like I never have before. But it's not just physical. I am feeling refreshed as a mom. I am feeling refreshed as a wife. As a friend. As a physical therapist. I don't know what has lead to this evolution. Maybe it's age- let me rephrase that - Maturity. Who knows. But I know I'm feeling on the edge of a change in my life. Part of this I know has to do with my "baby" turning One Year Old at the end of the month. Yes, I'm partially mourning the end of babyhood. I will miss the coos, replaced with the "no!"'s. I will miss the acceptance of anything put on her plate, replaced with "No!". I will miss the outstretched arms for "mama", replaced with "Down!". I won't see it again as a mom. And it is such a sweet, sweet time. But. Quinny turning One Year Old is also a big transition for me. It means new fun phases to experience with her. In a completely different way then they were experienced with Piper. Partially because my vision is colored with "savor this time, it's the last 1st birthday you'll ever host". And partly because they are such completely different people. And, it means a new kind of freedom. Freedom from the intense worry you feel with such a little helpless peanut who is sick and can't tell you what's wrong. Freedom from regular night wakings. Freedom from a two-nap-a-day schedule. Freedom from teething. Breast feeding. Bottles. And a return to self. I am a stronger self. One fuller of spirit. A mom of two beautiful girls, but also, just me. A renewal of my identity apart from a mom. Of course, being a mom is still my primary role and identity (won't it always be?). But I feel a strengthening of that branch of my self that is just me. Just Mia. Not mama mia, not wife mia, just me-mia. There will be more time for me in days to come. There will be more reading for pleasure, less reading for parenting advice. There will be more time away without kids. I will always cherish these first 3 1/2 years of motherhood. None could have been sweeter. And there's a small part of me that doesn't want to move on. But there is a bigger part that knows there are even better moments (could it be possible?) ahead. In theory, I know nothing could be more rewarding than watching your kindergartner take the first step towards her new classroom, full of excitement and joy - and maybe a little fear, but knowing she'll be ok. Knowing, I've done all I can up to this point to help her become this individual little person. Or watching your daughter accept her first degree. Or have a little one of her own and watching her become the mommy you always strived to be to your own children. This part of me that knows this is strong. Chin up. Shoulders back. Onward. Strong.

Dancing Queen

Piper had her first dance class on Thursday. I don't know who was more excited, her or me? I spent the hour (free of obligations to my children or anyone else) glued to the glass window spying on her. Every time she'd look my way I had on a big goofy smile and did the "mom wave". Come on, you all know the "mom wave." Yes you do. It's that full arm- tear my shoulder out of the socket-wave, just in case you might miss me in my bright pink ski suit standing alone on the deck of the ski lodge-wave. And she, just as I did when I saw that wave, glanced away like she saw nothing and carried on. Dancing. It was everything I wanted it to be for her first class. You may wonder why it was such a big deal to me. I guess I am too. I think it's because it's the first of her, hopefully many, steps into independence. A step into defining who she is. Dance class is not something I pulled out of the air for her to try. The girl LOVES to dance. She positions herself in the middle of the living room floor, puts on her ballerina face - which is oh-so-serious - and with full concentration performs the moves that she believes make up the grace of a Ballerina. Now, at 3 years old, not really the picture of grace. But definitely the picture of a Vivid imagination. She is seeing herself as she saw those "real ballerinas" on stage at the Nutcracker. Tall, lithe, graceful, princess-like and on stage. At one point during the class each of the three little girls got to do a solo number with a scarf. I was so proud of her. She went first and just followed her instinct, just like she was in her own living room. In her own world. A beautiful ballerina. No reservations. No hesitation. That, I think, is pretty impressive for a 3-year-old's first class!
Now, don't worry. I vow not to be that mom. If the novelty and fun of dance wear off for her, I will just be happy for the joy it gave her at the time and move on with her. I know this enjoyment may last for three classes or less! And I vow to enjoy each moment of it with her and not take for granted that she has found something that, at least for the moment, brings her dreams to life - even if just a little bit.
But for now - it just makes me smile. Seeing her come to life like that. It's a little peek at what it's like to see your child become an individual. To see Piper define who Piper is. Not because it's what I say she is or because it's what her friends are, but because it's what she wants for herself. What more can a mother ask for her child? And don't worry - I'll have front row tickets for all you tutu givers when she's on a real stage.

Christmas Magic

Children bring back the true meaning of Christmas. All of a sudden, the magic of Christmas is back. You begin to trust in the goodness of others again. You see "all the pretty lights" and trees, wreaths and bows again, instead of the throngs of shoppers and crazy last minute drivers. You believe again.

This was Piper's first year to participate in what has been a family tradition with the women of my family. Every year since our first Christmas in Arizona (1987), my mom has taken my sister and I to see the Nutcracker Ballet. That first year was the most special. My parents were feeling low because it was a lower-key Christmas than we were used to. My mom happened to win 2 tickets to the Nutcracker. My mom, sister and I took our chances and went to the show that night hoping to possibly get a third ticket. That we did, and the tradition took hold. Each year we looked forward to the event. But even more than the event, we looked forward to our own celebration of the bond between the three DeWitt women. I believe each year at our Nutcracker dinner there were tears in our eyes for one reason or another. Sometimes tears of joy, sometimes tears of sadness, sometimes tears because we were laughing so hard. Each time they were tears that bonded us even closer.

My mother-in-law, Annetta, Piper and I were waiting for the show to start. I can hardly describe the feeling of joy I had while sitting in our nose-bleed seats this year with my three year old daughter by my side. She, so excited to see "REAL ballerinas" and me, so grateful to be able to carry on the tradition with my daughter(s). This year, tears of joy. I only wish my mom and sister could have shared the moment.

The curtain went up and the three year old was still. (This, a feat.) I won't lie and say she was enthralled for the entire 2 hour show. She is three, after all. But there were moments of pure Christmas magic. To see "REAL ballerinas" dancing on that big stage! ("Can I dance up there mommy?" she asked. She also asked her Daddy before the show if ballerinas poop, but that didn't really contribute to the magic of the moment.) To see the snow fall inside! The costumes! Then after the show, the "REAL" ballerinas were in the hall in costume. Piper looked upon them with almost as much awe as she did Santa.

I don't know if Piper will remember this show. But I know she will remember the tradition, because as long as they are interested, the Ramsey girls will carry it on. And maybe one special year, the DeWitt women can join us too.

I am so grateful to my girls for making me believe again. To make Christmas magical again. Thank you baby girls. I love you.

Hoorah for Boobies!

My name is Mia and I am a breast feeder. I am not a Nazi breast feeder, shoving my boobies down everyone I know's throat. But I believe wholly in breast feeding and am glad I have been able to do it. It is a wonderful experience. One I'm proud to have participated in and am ready....to be done with. Ugh. It is really great. But. sigh. It gets a little old. At first, you have this little peanut cuddling against your belly getting all the nourishment she needs to LIVE. It's amazing. It's so fulfilling. It's a little ego boosting - YOU are this child's LIFE support. And...it's a little restricting. It changes your boobies. It makes them small, sad and saggy.

Don't get me wrong. I have loved breast feeding, and still do, at times. But I can't deny that I have moments when I daydream of the day I'm done with breast feeding. I can see me running around naked shaking my tatas screaming, "They're MINE! ALL MINE!!!!!". I'm not kidding. I actually had that day dream today while pumping at work.

When you become a mother there is so much of yourself that you give up. Your work out time, your time with your hubby, much- or all- of your professional self, your ME time. I don't think you anticipate how much of your body you give up. Your lap becomes as desirable as front row seats for Madonna. Your hair becomes a toy. Your mouth becomes this sanitized recorder that says only "What do you say? How do you ask? You have 5 minutes before....." The back of your knee becomes a crutch for a needy 3 year old.

But never did I realize how personal this complete take-over would be. My boobies. My breasts. My tatas are no longer..........mine.

I have been struggling lately with continuing breast feeding or to stop. My goal is to make it 12 months. As far as Quinn is concerned, it could go either way. Both my girls were that way. (I'm trying to NOT take that personally.) On one hand, I want what's best for my baby. Going into Flu season, it'd be best for her to get all those antibodies for a few more months. It's SO much more convenient - no bottles to make, no mess, no bottles to wash. It's cheaper. It allows me to eat ice cream more than I really NEED to.

But. (sigh) Pumping at work. The Guilt (THE GUILT) associated with missing a feeding. The crying at my breast while she waits (impatiently) for the milk to come down. The distracted 9 month old who needs to check out everything her 3 year old sister is doing while clamping my nipple in her mouth. The TEETHING 9 month old who likes pressure on her gums (ie: BITING THE NIPPLE). The sweet caresses from the girl while she eats that turn into the pinching of the OTHER nipple and trying to pull THAT one into her mouth as well. That's fun. The fact that it becomes a "no fly zone" in the bedroom. (Never to be flown again, by the way. At least as far as I'm concerned!).

To be honest. I don't always love it. I'm not a "Le Leche League" nazi. I am grateful I have the equipment that works, children that know how to use it and a support network to make it possible. But I understand women who choose to not breast feed. It IS an invasion of your self. It is a selfless sharing of your most personal parts.

But, it is not completely selfless.

There are those sweet, sweet moments when it's just you and her. In a quiet room. She's curled like a comma around you. Her eyes flutter closed as she receives nourishment from your body. (How AMAZING it is that YOU are her only nourishment for so long!) Her soft, long, beautiful eyelashes land on her soft, round cheeks as she slowly stops feasting. Belly full. Her mouth trembles to a stop, her lips still pursed. My breast glides out of her mouth and her sweet little lips stay pursed, holding the memory of that connection. (sigh). This is good stuff. How blessed I am that I can experience this with my baby girl? Ok. Motivated again. I can do this. What's 3 more months? I spent 3 months IN BED for this little being. I can do THIS. HOORAH for Boobies!

Tears of Joy

We went to a beautiful wedding this weekend of a couple who are truly "meant to be". You know, the kind of couple you watch saying their vows with absolute sincerity, as if they were the only two people in the room. The kind of union where you find yourself dreaming of their kids-to-come, and all the highs and lows they'll face, and survive, as a couple. And you KNOW they'll survive. They just have the right kind of connection. Getting ready to leave the house, I almost decided not to bring a purse - because unlike most women, I hate the extra baggage. Then I decided I didn't want to leave my phone, so I grabbed my "wedding purse" and off we went. As we were watching the ceremony, I got emotional and teary eyed (never fails) and opened my purse to find my "wedding handkerchief". It's a beautiful handkerchief that my sister gave me for her wedding. I got to thinking about it. It's only been used at weddings. It's stains are only from tears of joy. Think of all the wonderful stories that will have begun when it wiped those happy tears from my eyes. All the laughter, all the sorrow, all the bumps in the road that life throws a married couple, the beginning of a new family. All those things started with a beautiful moment that made people who witnessed it, at least me, cry tears of joy.

I was speaking with someone the other day about marriage. She stated that she thought there wasn't just one person for each person. I have to say, it's probably true. I don't know that everyone meets, falls in love with and marries their soul mate. But it's not only the soul mates who end up very happily married for 50+ years. I believe, when you marry someone you make a choice. You make a choice to make it work. You make a choice to be happy. And you have to continue to make that choice. You have to continue to reevaluate what it is that makes you feel content in your marriage - because it will change. And you have to DISCUSS these things with your chosen mate. And often you have to agree to disagree and love each other anyway. And often you have to give more than you get. But you must know that your mate will do the same for you.

Now, I'm not saying that some marriages that end shouldn't end. I don't think every marriage will work out or should work out. But I do think that too often people think that marriages just....happen. They don't. They require care. They require work. (If you doubt this, have children.) They need to be fed with laughter and compassion. They require more than just love. Have you ever accomplished a goal that you worked really hard on and felt that elation of accomplishment? Have you ever gotten something you didn't work very hard for and felt as happy? My point is that all this work and effort you put in, you get back 10 fold. I know I am blessed to have found my partner. I also know that we work to keep it as good as it can be.

I so dearly hope that all those tears of joy that my handkerchief has seen are the beginnings of such happy lives full of love, laughter and a healthy dose of work. :)

Moments

Life is made up of the moment's right? Here are some of mine recently:

Here's how we got to this moment: Piper and Mackenzie are playing in the basement. By what they are saying I can tell they are drawing. I yell down, "Piper, drawing only on paper, right?"

Piper: "........yeah......"

Here's where that mom's nagging intuition kicked in... Just a little too late. I come downstairs to see that they were playing make-up artist. And having a ball. After I finished laughing, took their picture and handed a colored Mackenzie back over the fence to her mother who was also laughing (THANK GOD) with promises that the markers are non-toxic, I sternly said to Piper, "Markers are for PAPER ONLY." Then left the room to laugh some more.

This was a morning recently where Piper sat down to play with Quinn who is new to sitting on her own. I was in and out of the room doing laundry. At one point Piper put down the the toy she was shaking dangerously close to Quinn's face and said, "I'll keep you safe Quinny" as she gave her a big hug.

It's cool enough in the mornings to dress up like pink teddy bears now. She was so sweet this morning. She was up early, therefore so was I. I decided to go for a run before Piper and Brooks got up. So I bundled her up and off we went. She "chatted" to me the whole time then sweetly drifted off to sleep for the last few minutes. She was so peaceful and cozy looking, so I walked around the block to have a few more minutes of that sweetness....

Really. Do I need to comment on this one? Well I guess if I didn't like to comment, I wouldn't have a blog. So I will comment. Watching my mom with my girls fills my heart to bursting. We've always had such a strong girly-bond in my family, my mom, sister and I. And to see that bond carried on with my two baby girls is satisfying beyond words.

These sweet times are brought to you by Piper and Quinn Ramsey. :) Enjoy.

Dream Girl

This morning Piper was looking at pictures on our screen saver. One of the pictures was me doing "Swing and a Prayer" where you get strapped in to a harness and swing by a steel cable that has been pulled up 35 feet in the air. She said "Is that you flying?"

"yes!" I said.

"Can I fly some day?"

"I know you WILL fly some day Piper."

"Can I wear my tutu when I fly?"

Thank God for my little dreamer.

Happy Birthday Piper!

Wow, 3 years old on August 8. What an amazing age. This girl can actually articulate what she is thinking, and sometimes, what I am thinking. She can dress herself. She can pee and poo on the potty. She can feed herself and even choose what she wants to eat. She has opinions - a lot of them. She has painted finger- and toenails. She laughs at jokes and silly faces. She makes jokes and silly faces to get you to laugh. She can do puzzles. She can write the letter "H". She can sing the alphabet and count to 20. She can color in the lines. She can give the most amazing hugs. She can tell me she loves me. She can tell me where it hurts. She has friends. She IS a HUMAN!!!???

This year, Piper REALLY "got it" - the whole birthday thing. She talked about her princess cake for a whole week leading up to her party. She actually asked for something specific for a birthday present. (Can you guess? A ballerina outfit. And I had actually already purchased a Tutu for her to wear on her birthday - do I know my little girl or what???!) She knew who all was coming to her party (Mackenzie, Mackenzie, Mackenzie, and some other people). She knew they would all bring gifts. She knew they would sing "Happy Birthday" to her. She definitely "gets" birthdays now.

When did my little girl get so big? This birthday is a little bittersweet. The past two birthdays, I have to admit, I sighed a little (just a little) sigh of relief that the year had passed. Now, I feel like I'm holding on with my fingernails to each second I can. I'm sure this is partly due to the presence of little Quinn, who makes me realize how quickly Piper is growing up. It's not that I don't look forward to what's to come - I do. I am just so conscious of the passing of THIS moment. The last three years have happened in the blink of an eye.

This past weekend I went on a spa get-away with my closest gal pals. We went to Miraval in Tuscon AZ. (check it out: http://www.miravalresort.com/ .....AWESOME!) The place is all about "mindfulness". In short, being present in the here and now. Appreciate each moment for the experience that it is, good or bad. One interpretation of this in my everyday life is to be present in these moments with my kids. Piper's 3rd birthday was not about me or any of my hangups or longings for her to slow down the growing-up. It was about Piper, as she is at 3 (see paragraph one). Perfect because she just is who she is. Happy Birthday love bug - you are my sunshine.

Ouch!

I don't think you can know how painful empathy can be until you're a mom. When she stubs her toe -oooh, I just wish I could soak up that pain for her. When she feels disappointed that she had an accident in her pants, I acutely remember the humiliation of my most recent accident (not, actually, that long ago....pregnancy does wonders for your "parts". Actually I think it's the delivery that does you in, but back to Piper......) But when someone else hurts your child's feelings, ouch. THAT really hurts. Like a knife twisting in your gut.

Recently we were at a party with a bunch of kids. These kids were all new to Piper. I was so proud of how she just jumped in to play with them - a brave thing for an almost-three-year-old to do. All the kids were playing nicely when all of a sudden Piper comes running up SOBBING. I was sure she cut a finger off or some other horribly painful circumstance had occurred. Well I was right, but it wasn't physical pain she was feeling. When I finally got her to calm down enough to tell me what was wrong she said, in between sobs, "they-don't-want-to-play-with-me-sob, sob, sob". She was nearly hyperventilating she was so upset. Oh. My. God. I've never felt so much pain. I knew it was just kids being kids. I knew they were all getting along fine and the kids liked Piper. I also knew that SHE didn't know that. She's still figuring out how this friendship thing works. To her, this was the end of the world. And now what? What am I supposed to do to help make this right without over-parenting and yet not have my child scarred for life??? I thought I was getting the hang of this parenting thing when WHAM, and OUCH! I told Piper that I was sure they didn't mean what they said (whatever it was) and that they liked playing with her. I offered to hold her hand and walk back over to the kids with her. Thankfully, my brave little girl agreed. We went back over there and with very little encouragement and a little hesitation, she joined in again. After a couple minutes she stopped looking over to see if I was standing there and she was having fun again. Phew. She's not, yet, ruined for life.

In the past, before I had my own kids, I sympathized with mothers I knew who expressed how painful it was to see your child get hurt. Never did I anticipate how acutely it would hurt me. Remember how it felt when it - rejection in some form or another- happened to you as a kid? Multiply that times 100 and you're getting close.

I never seem to reach the peak of the parent learning curve. It's okay though, I am loving the journey. I've always liked learning.

I remember when I was 12, shortly after we moved to Arizona from Wisconsin (read: CULTURE SHOCK) how I was having a hard time fitting in with the crowd I thought I should be friends with. I was a bit shy and a lot uncertain. The kids were saying I was "stuck-up". I guess that's how I was seen because I was fearful of saying or doing the wrong thing. I was so shocked when I heard that and I couldn't figure out how they were interpreting my actions as "stuck-up". All I knew was that it meant I wasn't making friends. My mom and I have always been close and I confided this to her. Her suggestion was that I smile more. My first reaction to her suggestion was something akin to "WTF mom?", but in appropriate 7th grader lingo. "I'm not going to look like a GOOBER walking around with a dumb smile on my face for no reason MOM!" She took it in stride and suggested I keep smiling "on the inside". For some reason this silly, Carol Brady suggestion worked. I had nothing to lose so I "smiled on the inside" like a big-ole goober (on the inside) and people started to turn around. They realized I wasn't stuck-up. They started talking to me and I made friends. Some of whom I have to this day. How'd she know what to say?

I guess at that point in my life, my mom knew me better than anyone else alive. Probably still does to some degree. She felt my pain as acutely as I felt Piper's and she just knew what I needed to hear, the attitude I needed to take, to turn things around for myself. God I hope I can do that for my girls. I hope I can find the words to empower them to find their own solutions, to fix their own mistakes, to make friends out of "enemies", to believe in themselves and love themselves as much as I love them. I think maybe the answers to these sorts of parenting dilemmas aren't in the books (oh crap). Maybe they are in ourselves (oh boy, this is getting deep). They are in our own histories, our own experiences, our own pain. They are in our own successes and failures. I guess I just have to learn to believe in myself, once again. To trust that I'll do my best and hope that most of the time, I'll get it right. These are the most important choices, decisions, actions I've made in my life. Sometimes I believe that all I've learned so far in life, I've learned in preparation for being a mom, my most challenging and rewarding role to date. And if it means my kids are happy, healthy, and that they love and respect themselves, I'll look like a big ole goober any day. Even on the outside.

Little Brother, Big Man

My very good friend Kristin recently lost her 27 year old little brother tragically when a small plane he was piloting went down shortly after take off. He left behind not only Kristin and her family, but his own budding little family: his wife Lauren and his daughter MacKenzie who was born in June, a couple of months after his death. As Kristin lives in Arizona I hadn't been able to put my arms around her and give her the hug I've been wanting to give her since I heard the news until yesterday. We met up to camp with our families for one night while they were in Colorado to see other family.

Speaking with her of her loss brought back strong feelings of the loss of my Dad. I asked her, "Do you feel him with you sometimes?". She answered, without hesitation, "all the time". Me too. I feel my Dad's presence, not all the time, but often. Grief is a funny thing. It doesn't hit you all at once. It hits you a week after the tragedy. A month after. 2 years after when your first daughter is born. 4 years later when your second daughter is born. It doesn't really stop. It gets less painful, less bitter, more sweet. But I don't think you ever fill that emptiness that he filled. It becomes less of a pothole in your soul and more of a crack in the sidewalk, but those cracks help make up who we are. Those cracks of emptiness make us complete as human beings who have loved deeply, unconditionally, and lost tragically.

Kristin showed me a picture of Brian's daughter MacKenzie. She is her daddy. Sometimes when I look in Quinn's blue, blue eyes, I see my daddy. They have both left their footprints here. The thought of MacKenzie never getting to know her daddy hurts. The thought of how his wife Lauren has to move on and can't stop to grieve because she's now a mommy - alone - there really are no words to express that sadness.

Brian lived his life completely and passionately. Kristin said, almost as if he knew his life would be cut short. MacKenzie's short life is already blessed with family that will shower her with love and help her to know her daddy as well as she can. I know her daddy is with her. Just as he is with Kristin and Lauren and his parents. The ones we love never completely leave us. They might go away for awhile, but they return. Usually when you need them most and don't even know it.

Kristin, Lauren, MacKenzie - Brian was a wonderful man, full of passion, energy, humor and love. I'm so sorry for your loss. Embrace your grief, go ahead a lose it when you need too. And then remember how he lived.

Holy CRAP!

Hallelujah! Piper POOPED on the Potty!!!! WOO HOO! You have no idea how I've dreamed of this day! She ASKED to go and then she WENT! Then she turned around, looked at it, leaned down and.......Smelled it. Yes ladies and gentleman, my daughter smelled her own poop. BUT, the poop was IN THE POTTY. Let's not lose sight of this accomplishment. After smelling the first tiny little turd she sat back down and went to work. After every little nugget she got up, turned around and admired her work. She was SO proud of herself. I am SO proud of her. The best part of all this is that I've been promising her new dress up shoes if she goes poopy on the potty. The poopy wasn't happening and I want so badly to get rid of her old dress up shoes. I was trying to think of a way I could get her those shoes without making it seem like I didn't think she'd ever poop on the potty (I admit, I had a moment or two of doubt). Now I can throw out those nasty old red sparkly dress up shoes that she has worn to pieces! Well, maybe the best part is not having to wipe poop off her bum anymore, but the new dress up shoes is a close second. Yes, I took this picture to commemorate the moment. It could be worse. I have heard of women taking pictures of the poop itself and I have to admit, the thought crossed my mind. If you don't understand this, you haven't struggled with potty training. But this is a much cuter picture, don't you think?

Relentless

My Brother-in-law Frank once said to me, "Parenthood is relentless isn't it?". Uh, yes. I can't help but admit that word has been floating around in my head since he mentioned it. Yes. Relentless, nonstop, ongoing, endless................etc. We decided to push Piper's bedtime back to 8:00 this summer. There are some really great things about that. It's closer to being dark. We have about 2 hours with her alone after Quinn goes down - and she deserves that one on one time. I don't have to hurry to get both kids in bed between 6 and 7. And she actually goes to sleep when we put her in bed. Well sometimes.

However. Moving bedtime from 7 to 8 means we're "on" for one more hour. Which means I get about one hour of "me" or "us" time before I poop out and head for bed myself. Last night I think I feel asleep before Piper did! Then we get up when the kids get up (which is way too early) and start it all over again. Then there's the laundry, the house work, cooking, errands to run, grocery shopping (anyone else go to the grocery store 6x a week?) play dates, swim lessons, all while trying to be a good mommy. There are days, literally, where I have 10 minutes while both girls are down for a nap before one gets up. Believe it or not, I can fall asleep during that time. I can be out COLD for those 10 precious minutes. But more often than not, I'm catching up on laundry, paying bills or one of the other millions of things we have to get done. It's a rat race. And Brooks is right there with me - what would I do if he wasn't??? Oy.

That's life as a parent. At least MY life as a parent. But life is so full and rich now. It feels complete. Having life like this makes you really enjoy those small little moments that if life were slower, you'd take for granted. Things like reading a book to one of my girls before bed. Dinner's done, bath time's over, it's just her and I cuddling and reading. Or sitting on the patio with a fire in the fire pit and talking to my husband. Actually communicating. Catching up with each other. "Oh yeah! I forgot how much I like this guy." (Isn't it funny that you have to "catch-up" with your husband whom you live with?) Or having a few extra minutes to stop at Starbucks on your way to work. Or having time to write in your blog. Or taking those 10 precious minutes to "nap" or read a magazine. Or an HOUR away to do yoga and just breathe.

Life is really in the moments anyway isn't it? 10 years from now, I won't remember the specifics of the rat race. I'll remember those precious moments. Probably not the ones reading a magazine or stopping at Starbucks, but the cuddle time. How special it is to have a night alone with my husband. The moments where we just dropped what we were doing to play "tickle monster". The impromptu cookie making messes. You know the good stuff.

So, relentless? Yes. But also so rich, so full of laughter, so sweet, so perfect.

My brothers-in-law are about to become parents themselves (which we are so excited about!). They will soon know the perfect relentlessness of life with kids. And they will love it too.

Go Fish

Piper is getting anxious to be able to play with Quinn. They played cards the other day, but after awhile of Quinn just drooling on her cards, Piper decided maybe mommy would be a better partner. But she tried. Today, Piper met a new friend. This girl, Alexa, struck Piper's fancy big-time. She took charge. She spoke up when she wanted something. Everyone around knew she was present. She gave big aggressive hugs and kisses, that could almost be called tackles. AND she had a really pretty princess dress.

I found it interesting how much Piper liked this little girl. And also how Piper started to speak up and say what SHE wanted after being around Alexa for a little while. It was like this girl was the inner Piper. The one that doesn't get quiet and take 2 hours to warm up to people - even friends she's familiar with. The one that says what she thinks, loudly, and when she wants to say it. I could see this girl playing center for the Denver Broncos in 20 years,- possibly in a princess dress. What does it all mean? Probably nothing. What Ying hasn't been, at some time in her life, attracted to her Yang? Sometimes we need to face our polar opposites to give us courage to branch out of our comfort zone. To see that it's ok. And to see that what we are is good and special and sometimes better.

Well, I love my introspective little P-bear just the way she is. "Quiet", "Shy", what ever you want to call her. She's full of love, compassion, humor, fun and laughter. Sometimes it just takes a Broncos Center to get it out of her.

Happy Mother's Day

I was once asked why I wanted to have kids. I honestly couldn't come up with an answer - and I felt really bad about that. But I just knew I did. I'm not sure that actually is a question you can answer completely until you have kids. Then you get moments all day long where you go, "THIS is why I wanted kids. For this moment right now." For the moment when I walk into Piper's room after a nap to find her reading quietly, such a big girl, in her big girl bed. I feel so proud. For the moment when Quinn ALMOST laughs because I kissed her soft little belly. For the soft little belly. For the fingers and toes. For the dress-up and playing "Baby". For going potty in the toilet, and for having another accident but wanting to try again. For the kisses from big sister to little sister. For the "hugs for my family". For the "I love you, good night, go to sleep!"-s. For the boogers on the wall that she helps me clean up. For the fuzzy hair after a bath. For the bedtime stories, and just one more. For the silly songs. For the Eskimo, Butterfly and Fish kisses. For the successes and failures. For new friendships. For learning about being left out. For the laughs when the wind blows our hair into funny styles. For the flowers she picks for me, from our neighbor's garden (oops!). For the piggy back rides, airplane rides on my legs, and lion-walks up the stairs. For the cute little hiccups. For the funny toots. For the soft round cheeks and deep blue and brown eyes that say it all. For the quivering lip. For the irresistible giggle. For the goofball dancing when she's supposed to be eating. For the pig tails. For the bed head. For the cuddles when she's just not ready to get up and face the world. For toothless grins. For spit bubbles. For silly bows on bald heads. For 3 hour naps and for 30 minute naps that end with a giant smile because she's just so happy to see me. And a million other moments.

Us mothers are so lucky. There is nothing like mommy when you're hurt, sad, or blue. There's nothing like a mommy's hug to make everything feel alright. We get to be that person. We get to show our little ones all the wonders of the world. And it's up to us to put our own special spin on it. And in return we get their own special spin on the world. We get to see life through pure innocent eyes once more. We get questions that make us think: "Huh, I don't KNOW why." And questions that make us laugh: "Daddy, did you toot?" And statements that make us face the facts: "There's a baby in your belly mommy!". No, it's just called a "gut" now..... Yes, we also get thrown up on, peed on, pooped on, boogered on. But WE get those wondrous moments while pregnant when you feel the little one kick for the first time. WE get that amazing experience of giving birth. WE get (yes, we GET) those middle of the night feedings where we get to cuddle with no distractions. Just you and me kiddo.

Being a mom is the hardest thing I've ever done. It's also the most wondrous. The most rewarding. The most character building. The most honest. The thing I'm most proud of. So, Here's to my mom, who showed me how to love unconditionally. Here's to all my mom friends who are my saviours on a daily basis and who will always have a story to share to make me feel better. Here's to all the new moms who are finally realizing WHY they wanted to have kids. And here's to all future moms, you're in for the ride of your life. :)