A decade of diapers...

My oldest son just turned ten, and along with all the other things a parent contemplates as their first born hits that milestone, it hit me that I've been changing diapers for a decade straight! Ever since that first diaper I changed ten years ago we've had a kid or two in diapers right up until now as our youngest is just finishing up the whole potty training extravaganza.

It seems to be human nature to package time into chapters - and this past decade has certainly been one very interesting chapter in my life. I've experienced my lowest lows and highest highs (so far) over this past decade. I learned alot about parenting and about myself (and how to change a diaper one handed and blindfolded). Its been amazing watching how the same genetic material can create such very different little people. I've learned alot about my husband and our relationship has not only withstood, but blossomed under, the extreme challenges of sleep deprivation, toddler temper tantrums and a multitude of parenting firsts.

I'm really comfortable with the whole baby -toddler - young child phase. It's kind of become part of my identity to have little people around me. I'm less sure about this next decade - as the teen hormones start to bubble up and we face a whole new chapter of triumphs and stresses. I'm sure I'll figure it out as I go, but it seems pretty intimidating to contemplate right now.

My diaper changing days may not be quite over though... my three year old daughter was given one of those baby dolls that drinks and pees this past Christmas and so I find myself diapering this dolly so that I don't have to keep stepping in puddles of (thankfully) water on the floor after feeding time. ;-)

On Motherhood and Marriage

love
Pronunciation: \ˈləv\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English lufu; akin to Old High German luba love, Old English lēof dear, Latin lubēre, libēre to please
Date: before 12th century
1 a (1) : strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties (2) : attraction based on sexual desire : affection and tenderness felt by lovers (3) : affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests b : an assurance of love
2 : warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotion

friend(ship)
Pronunciation: \ˈfrend\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English frend, from Old English frēond; akin to Old High German friunt friend, Old English frēon to love, frēo free
Date: before 12th century
1 a : one attached to another by affection or esteem b : acquaintance
2 a : one that is not hostile b : one that is of the same nation, party, or group
3 : one that favors or promotes something (as a charity)
4 : a favored companion

de·vo·tion
Pronunciation: \di-ˈvō-shən, dē-\
Function: noun
Date: 13th century
2 a : the act of devoting b : the fact or state of being ardently dedicated and loyal

joy
Pronunciation: \ˈjȯi\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French joie, from Latin gaudia, plural of gaudium, from gaudēre to rejoice; probably akin to Greek gēthein to rejoice
Date: 13th century
1 a : the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires : delight b : the expression or exhibition of such emotion : gaiety
2 : a state of happiness or felicity : bliss
3 : a source or cause of delight

work
Pronunciation: \ˈwərk\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English werk, work, from Old English werc, weorc; akin to Old High German werc work, Greek ergon, Avestan varəzem activity
Date: before 12th century
1 : activity in which one exerts strength or faculties to do or perform something: a : sustained physical or mental effort to overcome obstacles and achieve an objective or result b : the labor, task, or duty that is one's accustomed means of livelihood c : a specific task, duty, function, or assignment often being a part or phase of some larger activity

sub·ju·gate (subjugation)
Pronunciation: \ˈsəb-ji-ˌgāt\
Function: transitive verb
Inflected Form(s): sub·ju·gat·ed; sub·ju·gat·ing
Etymology: Middle English, from Latin subjugatus, past participle of subjugare, from sub- + jugum yoke — more at yoke
Date: 15th century
1 : to bring under control and governance as a subject
2: to give oneself over to a greater cause

sub·li·mate (sublimation)
Pronunciation: \ˈsə-blə-ˌmāt\
Function: transitive verb
Inflected Form(s): sub·li·mat·ed; sub·li·mat·ing
Etymology: Middle English, from Medieval Latin sublimatus, past participle of sublimare
Date: 15th century
1 a : sublime 1 b archaic : to improve or refine as if by subliming
2 : to raise the expression of an emotion or impulse to a higher level, expressing the emotion or desire in a moral and noble manner. - to enoble oneself by diverting one emotion to a purer one.

wor·thy (worthwhile)
Pronunciation: \ˈwər-thē\
Function: adjective
Inflected Form(s): wor·thi·er; wor·thi·est
Date: 13th century
1 a : having worth or value : estimable (a worthy cause) b : honorable, meritorious
2 : having sufficient worth or importance

Hope

I'm going to let Shel Silverstein do the talking today. I love this poem about living in the moment with hope and optimism in the face of unlikely odds.

SNOWMAN

by Shel Silverstein

'Twas the first day of the springtime,
And the snowman stood alone
As the winter snows were melting,
And the pine trees seemed to groan,
"Ah, you poor sad smiling snowman,
You'll be melting by and by."
Said the snowman, "What a pity,
For I'd like to see July.
Yes, I'd like to see July, and please don't ask me why.
But I'd like to, yes I'd like to, oh I'd like to see July."

Chirped a robin, just arriving.
"Seasons come and seasons go,
And the greatest ice must crumble
When it's flowers' time to grow.
And as one thing is beginning
So another thing must die,
And there's never been a snowman
Who has ever seen July.
No, they never see July, no matter how they try.
No, they never ever, never ever, never see July."

But the snowman sniffed his carrot nose
And said, "At least I'll try."
And he bravely smiled his frosty smile
And blinked his coal-black eye.
And there he stood and faced the sun
A blazin' from the sky--
And I really cannot tell you
If he ever saw July.
Did he ever see July? You can guess as well as I
If he ever, if he never, if he ever saw July.

(taken from Where the Sidewalk Ends, the poems and drawings of Shel Silverstein)

Fear

Yesterday evening was ticking along like any evening - I was in the dining room practicing music with my son, my husband was in the kitchen giving bedtime snack to the little ones. Suddenly I heard my husband call for me with an urgent note of desperation in his voice. I ran to the kitchen to see him holding our three year old daughter over the sink, her face bright red, wild panic in her eyes, her arms flailing about. She was choking on a grape. The perfect little slippery sphere had lodged in her airway and had completely blocked it. There was no sound coming out of her, she couldn't cough, she couldn't cry, she couldn't breathe. Pure panic.

After what felt like an agonizingly long time the grape popped out with a little "plop" sound. My husband had held her in a football hold, head angled down and whacked her on her back. Our daughter caught her breath and hung on tight to her Daddy's shoulder as he comforted her. My healthy, strong, sturdy little girl seemed suddenly so fragile, so breakable; so vulnerable.

Life can change in an instant. Yesterday that instant brushed briefly over our heads before flitting back into the shadows. We held our daughter a little closer yesterday evening, gave her a few extra goodnight kisses, brushed the curls off of her forehead a little more tenderly as she lay peacefully sleeping in her crib and felt very very thankful.

Loving someone opens us up to the possibility of great pain. I remember watching the movie Shadowlands, the biography of CS Lewis. There is a scene in that movie where CS Lewis and his wife, who is dying of cancer, talk about their love for each other. Mr Lewis's wife comforts him, saying that the pain he will feel upon her death is part of the love he feels for her now. The two are intertwined. To avoid great pain one has to avoid the joy and fulfillment that comes with real Love.

When I was a little nitwit know it all of a teenager I remember shaking my head at my mom as she became emotional about a news story and telling her that she couldn't take on the cares of the entire world; that she couldn't let all the sad stories on the news affect her so deeply. But I grew up and as an adult and as a parent I now find myself reacting the same way my mother did - feeling a gut reaction to stories of children affected by abuse, abduction, or victims of accidental death. It is impossible not to feel great empathy and sorrow for those children and their families and its very easy to imagine being in a similar situation with my own children and the horror and pain that experience would involve.

As parents we fall quite helplessly in love with our children. We want nothing more than to raise them up, guide them on their path and grow old watching them lead fulfilling and happy lives. Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, those dreams for our children are thwarted. Trying to make sure my kids make it to adulthood alive and undamaged can seem like an impossible dream and the fear of what the world can and will do to my kids can become quite paralyzing in those dark, oppressive, midnight moments.

I remember having vivid, unbidden visions of tumbling down the stairs as I walked gingerly down the stairs with an infant in my arms. Or having a startlingly real video playing in my head of my van being smashed up as I drove my children somewhere in a snow storm. I don't think these moments were examples of a psychiatric breakdown, rather, I've heard from other parents they have had these images too - they seem like our subconscious brain trying to keep our sleep deprived parent selves alert and poised to keep our little ones safe. Parents seem hardwired to do all in their power to keep their children safe and happy.

Yes, opening ourselves up to love opens us up to the potential for great sorrow. Life is short and fickle and the floor can drop out from under us at any moment no matter how careful and prepared we are. But opening ourselves up to love means we get to delight in many, many wonderful moments, experience joy and hope and fun and meaning in our lives.

Love of any kind is not always easy, and parental love can be quite scary at times, but that's Life: the joy and the heartache of it, and its what makes it all worthwhile.

I don't think I'll be serving grapes for awhile though.

"Let's move to Nice World"

It's pretty amazing the shining moments we stumble on out of the blue.

Yesterday was a rough day. And that's an understatement. The kids were fighting with each other and with me, they were taking turns having spoiled brat moments which is particularly hard to take as I try to create a warm, happy, meaningful Christmas Spirit in our family home. Needless to say I was both discouraged and at my wits end when we sat down to dinner.

Out of the blue, my five year old son looks at me and says "Mommy, I wish we could move to Nice World." I looked at him and asked him what he meant. He answered "Nice World - the place where everyone is nice to each other and loves each other." (Heart strings were starting to tug right about now...) I said, "That sounds like a really good idea, but even better would be to turn our world into Nice World." Then my nine year old pipes up "Well, what would we do about all the wars and rebellions (StarWars speak) going on in the world?"

And the moment just fell in my lap. I explained how there wasn't much we could do about the big wide world, but it was our job to make our little corner of the world the best it can be, starting with our family. One by one the kids piped up ways to make our little world better - not fighting, sharing, helping, recycling, giving stuff to poor people, giving hugs - it was this sparkling little family moment where the kids (and I) got the message of peace and love that is Christmas. And we were unanimous in our decision to try to make our home a little piece of "Nice World".

Now, I'm not saying the kids have been perfect angels since, but the day certainly ended alot better than it started yesterday. And I am left with renewed energy and optimism that I can and will raise these kids to be thoughtful people and caring citizens -and that the message of Christmas remains meaningful and true.

First Snow!

We had our first real snow of the season yesterday - just enough to cover the grass and not melt away, but not enough to make this smiling guy. Given the typical weather patterns for this region, those days aren't far away though.

My kids got up like any other morning yesterday, tousled hair, wrinkled pajamas, big yawns, stumbling down to the kitchen still half asleep. Except for my five year old - he bounces out of bed with energy to spare and is ready to charge into the day full tilt. It being a day away from December, the sun takes its time getting up in the morning so it was still close to dark when the kids came downstairs.

Then came the moment when the day was bright enough to see outside and one of the kids noticed the white stuff. He took up the excited call -Snow! Snow! SNOW! and within microseconds all four children were bouncing around infront of the window full of energy and excitement and joy at seeing the beautiful fluffy snow.

Of course they started making plans - snow forts and snowmen and snow angels and "can we go out right now!" - um no dears, a) you're in your pjs, b) you haven't had breakfast and c) the school bus comes in forty five minutes. I didn't even bother to mention that there was hardly enough snow on the ground for a snowball let alone the stuff they were planning.

Its a bit of recurring theme for me, but I love having kids in my life because I get to see the world through the fresh eyes of a child. Snow still is something wonderful and exciting for them and its hard for that enthusiasm not to rub off on me.

So bring on the snow! Enough for snowmen, and snowforts, for skiing and toboganning, enough for all those memorable childhood moments...I'm ready to embrace the season once again, and promise not to whine about the weather... at least until January. And I'll keep the hotchocolate at the ready to warm up those icicles I call my kids when they come in from their adventures in the Snow.

Exuberance!

My daughter is in that bewitching age between toddler and preschooler. She has almost limitless energy and enthusiasm for life... until she collapses exhausted into her pillow and recharges her battery with deep and peaceful sleep. To my daughter life is full to the brim of new experiences, new challenges, new joys, new frustrations and every feeling she experiences sits there on her sleeve, to be seen by all.

I love this girl so fiercely and feel SO blessed that she is in my life. There is no sweeter moment than when she spontaneously throws her arms around my neck and wants to be scooped up into a big hug. These moments are fleeting - most often as quickly as she comes in for a hug she is wriggling out of my arms, like a little silver fish, ready to run headfirst into the next adventure of the day.

But every evening I get a blissful little moment - after the baths and the pjs and the teeth are brushed, after the stories and saying goodnight to her brothers and her daddy, after the stuffies are all lined up in her crib and her blankies are fluffed, my daughter grabs her favourite raggedy old blanket, crawls up into my lap, snuggles her head under my chin, wraps her arms around me and is ready for her song. She pretends to sleep, lightly closing her eyes, but inevitably peeking briefly up at me as she snuggles in closer and listens to her song. Its a rambling silly little made up song, no proper meter or rhyme, but a common refrain everynight - "I love my L----, I love L-----, I love my L----, I love her very much." And then a rambling set of verses made up on the spot, running down the days highlights and fun little moments, before it ends with "Goodnight my L-----, good night L------. Good night my L-------, I love you very much." This song will never win an award, never be recorded, never get a wider audience, but my audience of one loves this moment, never lets a bedtime go by without her song and guarantees me the sweetest moment of my day. Which makes it a number one hit in my book.