Another Moment In the Quiet Nursery

Before Banner turned one, I wrote this post, just enjoying a moment to think in the quiet of his room with him. Sitting in that same glider, in that same room, next to that same crib, I had another amazing moment this morning - this time with Quinn. Of course these moments happen often, but certain moments will stick in my mind forever, and today was one of them.

Banner left with Sam to go to school, and around 9:00, I put Quinn down for his nap. He fell asleep pretty quickly after resting his head on my shoulder, which he has been doing this past month or so, and I LOVE it! Around 9:40, he was stirring and then wide awake. I let him fuss for a couple minutes to see if he could get himself back to sleep, but when he became more awake than not, I headed in there to get him, mostly annoyed that he didn't nap long and would hardly be able to make it to school and back home without falling asleep in the car during Banner's pick-up time. When I picked Quinn up, he laid his head down on me. I thought I'd just try out putting him back to sleep to see what would happen (usually, when he's up, he's up, so we haven't done this before). I started his play list over again, and as soon as Kenny Loggins started singing about Pooh's Corner, I could feel Quinn's body relax more. His eyes were still open, but he was resting. I figured I'd let him just rest on me as long as possible so he'd conserve some energy and be able to stay awake until 1:00 (his second nap time).

Soon, he was dozing on me. I sat in the glider with him fast asleep on my shoulder. His arm was tucked   underneath my neck, his paci was bouncing up and down with each audible suck, and his breathing was even and deep. I could feel his belly pressed against mine with each inhale, and in that moment, he was my little newborn all over again. His dark eyelashes and sweet smell just got to me, and soon I was in tears. We were both in our favorite place together - him on me all cuddled up in Mommy's safe arms, and I was savoring each minute with my sweet 7-month-old embracing me.

He turned his head at one point, and I could see the imprints of lines from my shirt running down his eyebrow and cheek. He was sleeping so soundly and so beautifully, I didn't want to wake him by moving at all. Two fingers of my left hand were falling asleep and tingling, and I was dying to go get my cell phone to take a picture, but I didn't want to chance waking him. That moment was WAY more important. I wanted it to last as long as possible. I had no idea how long we were sitting there, but I figured it was coming up on 30 minutes or so. Finally, I decided to inch out of the glider to go get my phone on the couch in the den. He stirred briefly, so I froze. He dozed back, I tiptoed with him to the den, saw the clock - it was 11:05! (I'd been in there for way over an hour!), and then his eyes opened. I kept on - and I made it back to his room without him raising his head. As he heard the sound machine "raining" again and felt the cool breeze of the fan, he closed his eyes again. I made it! I got back in the glider as quietly as possible, and he rested again. I got one quick picture (not the best, but at least something to document this memory and help me lock it in my head forever). Then, he opened his eyes. This time, he stared at me and then grinned.

I smiled back at him, and I cried. I thanked him as I pulled him in for a hug. I told him how much I loved him and that I would remember this moment forever. He just laid in my hug and let me love on him. I'm telling you, this kid is such a lover! Then I held him on my lap talking to him a bit - we laughed, smiled, tickled, and squealed together. Then, we hugged some more before I decided we better move on with our day. But, I could have stayed in that moment forever. Luckily, I get to write about it - and look at these pictures - and remember it forever - and maybe he'll let me snuggle with him again soon!

Sleeping on me - you can ignore my large nose here! :)

When he woke up, we were both all smiles (even with paci in his mouth)

Potty Party!

Disclaimer: I'm talking about pottying here. . . that includes talking about poop and pee and accidents and wiping and anything else that might gross you out, so don't read this if that bothers you. I'm a mom, he's my kid - it doesn't bother me.

More Important Disclaimer: The number one rule of parenting just might be to NEVER say aloud that something is going well - for fear that the "eat your words" gods might hear or that our children may think we've been given too much good fortune and make us regret everything we have publicly announced and celebrated. When something is going well. . . NEVER, EVER write about it. So, with this disclaimer, I won't be making wide, general statements about whether Banner is potty-trained at this point or not. I will simply give the facts:

I've been dreading 3 transitional times since Banner was born: moving to a big boy bed, getting rid of Banner's pacifiers, and potty-training. So far, we're good on the bed and we're down to one paci (from four!). And, 2 weeks ago yesterday, we started potty training.

I knew I was way more anxious about this than I should be, and as usual, Banner proved that I had no need to be concerned. At around 25-months-old, we would ask Banner to go potty before getting in the bathtub, and he was successful almost every time. So, we knew he was capable. But, our pediatrician recommended waiting a while before starting to potty train until after Quinn was born because he expected Banner to regress during that time. At Thanksgiving (29-months), Banner asked to use the potty twice that day. I thought that might have been the "right" time to start since he was expressing so much interest, but to be honest, I was not at all ready! The idea of having two kids in diapers might frustrate other people, but for me it was safe. I didn't have to worry about accidents, about taking extra clothes for Banner (only Quinn), about constantly asking Banner to go potty, etc. It was just easier to NOT have him potty trained.

Around the time Quinn turned 4-months-old in January (and was sick with RSV), we started noticing a smidge of regression in Banner. I'm glad we had waited to work on potty-training. Banner was up and down all night during those months, he was not feeling well, he was clingy and needing more attention and nurturing during that time. So I kept waiting. Then, it occurred to me that his school had a nice, long spring break for Passover, and that would be the ideal time to start training him. So, I gave myself that time frame to mentally prepare myself, and we also started talking more about pottying and underwear and trying to use the big boy potty until it was time to just nix the diaper and move forward. We also would have some afternoons (after nap) every now and then where Banner would wear just underwear or go naked (what he called "just his penis") until bedtime. He was usually successful for those few hours, so that also helped build up his (and my) confidence that we could really do this soon!

With my background in psychology and education, I am well-aware of the developmental stage that Banner is in right now. Potty training is THE goal of this psychosocial and psychosexual stage, and the way we handled this stage could make or break not only his success but his feelings about himself and the world. NO PRESSURE, RIGHT? Obviously, I take this stage very seriously and had plenty to make myself anxious with... sometimes ignorance really is bliss! I got a plan, read up on the topic, talked to my mom friends who have already potty-trained with ease, and set my mind to it that we can do this!

So, on the second day of Banner's spring break, we had our first official day of no diapers (except at sleep times). He had one pee accident - but I think that one was on purpose to see how I would respond, especially while I was putting Quinn down for nap. The second day, he had no accidents until the very last few moments before his bath time. We were trying to show Daddy how well Banner knows his ABCs with a game on the Letter Factory DVD (I highly recommend this video to teach letters and sounds!), and while it was loading, Banner peed on Daddy's lap. I think he was testing Daddy to see how he'd react. The third day, he had one accident at Grandma's house; the fourth day, he had two accidents while Daddy was in charge; and the fifth day, he had a couple of poop accidents on the way to the toilet (he had loose stools that day and was complaining of a tummy ache, so I'm not sure how much control he thought he had). Since then, we've had 11 consecutive accident-free days - including 3 school days! His teachers were very impressed and said he definitely earned his chocolate that first day back (we've been giving him chocolate chips for successful potty visits).

Since using the potty all this time, we have developed a fun little culture over here. Pottying is celebrated! We do a potty dance when Banner goes. We praise him and hug and kiss him. We have a potty party! Banner sings, "pee pee in the pot-ty, pee pee in the pot-ty!" And, when Sam or I go to the bathroom, Banner claps and says, "Yay, Daddy!" or "Yay, Mommy, now you get 3 chocolate chips!"

Whether he continues to be successful or not, I now know he CAN do it. I'm really proud of Banner. He asks to use the potty now, he tells me when he needs to go. He asks if there will be toilets wherever we are going and uses them when he needs to. I've had to make a gas station pit stop on the way to school once, I've taken him potty in the middle of the night (although we are not night training yet), and I've wiped him after he pooped in a Walmart potty - while wearing (or dangling!) Quinn in the Bjorn. We're doing this! And, although it was WAY easier to get my shopping done or go to the park or get from one place to another during a traffic jam without worrying about an accident, I'm proud of myself too! It's taking more effort on all of our parts to remind Banner to potty, to help with pulling pants up and down, to help him wash his hands a ridiculous amount of times a day now, to manage a crawling baby while awaiting poop on the pot! Yet, it's a necessary transition, and our boy was ready for this. I hope his success continues for everyone's sake. And if not, we'll tackle it! Here's to more potty parties!

30 Things in 30 Days (#27: Body)

Day 27: What is Your Favorite Part of Your Body and Why?

My favorite part of my body is the same thing I find most intriguing about any other person: eyes. They're so full of life, and I feel like you really get to know a person by looking in their eyes. The color of them, the expression in them, the way you can connect to another person - they're just the most interesting part of a person's physical appearance. Personally, I like the color of my eyes, especially when in the sunlight and the green comes out a little. My eyes are more an amber brown - with hints of green and yellow if the light hits just right. And, my most favorite part of putting on make-up is decorating my eyes with eyeliner or mascara and making them pop a little more. I don't like putting on make-up, but the eyes are the most fun part to play with. My eyes don't see very well without contacts/glasses, so that, of course, is not my favorite, but I love that they still work (with a great deal of help!). Vision is truly remarkable, and being able to read someone by looking in their eyes - another amazing quality of humans. So, without a doubt, the answer is my eyes.
*Past posts in this series can be found here: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7, Day 8, Day 9, Day 10, Day 11, Day 12, Day 13, Day 14, Day 15, Day 16, Day 17, Day 18, Day 19, Day 20,Day 21, Day 22, Day 23, Day 24, Day 25, Day 26

30 Things in 30 Days (#26: Popular Notion)

Day 26: What Popular Notion Do You Think the World Has Most Wrong?

This is a really tough question. There are so many "popular notions" that the world has incredibly wrong, and there are even more that Americans are way off on. I've considered writing about the ideals set for women's beauty (the idea that women have to be thin to be beautiful), or materialism (the idea that having more things will make us happy), or the notion that we must protect children's self-esteem at all costs (you know, giving trophies for merely participating or passing them when they really can't read). I've considered writing about the "breast is best" propaganda which often makes non-breastfeeding women feel like horrible mothers and may not even necessarily be true, especially for moms who aren't producing enough milk to sustain their babies.  I could have written about the notion that homosexuality is wrong or weird. Or, I could have written about the real reason our education system is failing - and it's NOT the teachers. Other topics that crossed my mind were health care, welfare, entitlement, wives taking husbands' last names, femininity being weak, that being "family" gives you a free pass to do as you please to other family members, that there is such a thing as a "bad word", or that we are evolving... I say we are now "devolving" as a human race. Any and all of these topics I could have written about and had a LOT to say!

But, many of these ideas are somewhat restricted to this (and other Western) culture(s). They are not "world" issues necessarily, so I'm going to go with something else: religion. I think the world has religion all wrong. Religion is not worth fighting for or over. I firmly believe that everyone is entitled to pray, believe, feel, worship, and observe the way he/she feels is best for him/her - and that is no one else's business as long as it's not hurting someone else. An all-loving, all-knowing God (or holy, superior power) would understand that humans are fallible. We are going to believe the wrong thing from time to time; we're going to pass judgment; we're going to change our beliefs and lose faith from time time to time; we're going to disagree with one another and have our own opinions. But more than any of that, an all-loving God/power would want only peace. God wouldn't want the people of the world to be fighting over God, to be at war, to be hurting each other over a belief. And, in my opinion, all of this is just a guess, blind faith that no one has any real evidence about. Why fight over something no one can prove? All that matters is that we accept any and all beliefs (as long as they don't hurt others). 

I cannot wrap my head around the idea that religious people believe other people are going to Hell, are not worthy of living, or need to "saved." What other people believe is not any of my business. I may think they are wrong, that they make no logical sense, that their faith is based on complete nonsense, that they can't think for themselves - or any other thing about them... but it matters not. It's not up to me to say who is "right" or "wrong." We need to stop fighting and just be accepting of any and all differences of opinions. Jewish, Buddhist, Muslim, Hindu, Christian, Agnostic, Atheist - who cares!? Just be okay with what YOU believe and stop worrying about everybody else. It has to stop there - with you and your beliefs. Believe in God? Great, good for you. Don't believe in God? Fine, too. Jesus saves? Awesome. Jesus who? That's cool, too. Keeping Passover? Way to go. Never thought of keeping it? Big deal. 

Religion, pure and simple, should be a completely individual experience. For me, I am Jewish, and I am more of a cultural Jew than a religious Jew, and I'm more spiritual than religious. I celebrate holidays to connect with my roots, not necessarily with God. I question God, and I am not sure if the Bible was intended to be more than a literary work - or just a commentary on an incomplete history. It's all a guess for me, which is why it's so hard for me to understand why others get so angry or heated about this discussion when someone disagrees with them. If you have true faith, you wouldn't care what others think because all that really matters is that YOU are good with YOUR God/higher power. If we could all just focus on our own spirituality and beliefs and leave everyone else to figure that out for themselves, we'd all be much better off.

*Past posts in this series can be found here: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7, Day 8, Day 9, Day 10, Day 11, Day 12, Day 13, Day 14, Day 15, Day 16, Day 17, Day 18, Day 19, Day 20,Day 21, Day 22, Day 23, Day 24, Day 25

30 Things in 30 Days (#25: Dinner)

Day 25: If You Could Have Dinner With Anyone in History, Who Would it Be and What Would You Eat?

Easy. Hands down, I'd pick Anne Frank. And, as long as there is plenty of food, I think Anne would be happy since food was in short supply during the last years of her life.

This evening marks the beginning of Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Memorial Day. I think it's fitting that today's prompt landed on this day, and my answer is and always has been Anne. I have always been inspired by her - her writing, her maturity at such a young age, her tenacity to believing "people are really good at heart," and her bravery during such a difficult time in our history. She lived through a nightmarish few years - cooped up in a hidden annex for 2 years. And, once arrested, she lived her final days in concentration camps, only to die of typhus not even a month before the camp was liberated. After reading her diary as a freshman in high school, I always wanted to go back in time just to tell her to hang in there - hang on, the end is near, don't give up, don't die. She was so close to making it out of the hell she was living in, and if she had lived, she would have done so much good. And, for herself, she would have been able to see that her diary was published. She would have been able to see that she is one of the most famous authors of our time - and at only 14 years old. Her story is so tragic, yet so hopeful. I'd want to hear more about her thoughts, goals, dreams, ideas. If more kids had her outlook - even when there is no hope - this planet would be a much better place!

Sam's idea was Jesus. I like that idea, too. So, I think I'd invite Sam and Jesus to dinner with Anne and me. That would make for a very interesting dinner discussion.

*Past posts in this series can be found here: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7, Day 8, Day 9, Day 10, Day 11, Day 12, Day 13, Day 14, Day 15, Day 16, Day 17, Day 18, Day 19, Day 20,Day 21, Day 22, Day 23, Day 24

30 Things in 30 Days (#24: Parenthood)

Day 24: What's Your Favorite and Least Favorite Thing About Parenthood?

To narrow these areas both down to a single favorite and least favorite is a chore I'm not willing to take on, so I'll give a few ideas that come to mind. And, I'm going to start with the negatives and end with the positives.

Least Favorite:

• Sleep deprivation: I haven't had a sound sleep since the days before Banner was born. First it was just pregnancy (although I'm one of the lucky ones whose sleep isn't terribly interrupted by a big belly or a compressed bladder), then it was being in the hospital for three days before labor was induced, then it was having a newborn, then it was midnight wakings because of separation anxiety . . . or teething... or facing a milestone... or he's overtired or hungry or sick or cold or hot or uncomfortable or scared or knew I had just fallen asleep... or any other number of reasons a baby/toddler just can't sleep. And then it was because I had another newborn AND a toddler. And, soon, we'll be potty training at night, so it's a whole NEW reason we won't get uninterrupted sleep. Even when I do get a full night's rest, it's not a sound sleep because I hear every noise or I think I heard the boys or I'm anxious they're going to wake up. 
• Being out of control: I'm used to being able to control so much of my own life, but having little people in your charge can be daunting when there's so much you just don't have any say over: their eating (what, when, how much), their sleeping (see above!), when and where they potty, where they decide to have a tantrum, and what is going on with them when they are away from me. I can control how I react to these things, and I can set as many parameters in place (like only serving healthy meal choices or offering a chance to use the potty before we leave the house), but it's up to the kids to take it from there. I've learned to let so much of this go, but it's a constant lesson. I know I won't be able to control SO much more in the future, too - when they lose their virginity, how they respond to peer pressure or an offer to use drugs, whether they turn in their homework or not, or how fast they drive... Being a parent is so hard because you want the best for your little humans, but they are, in fact, their own little selves, and there's not a whole lot you can control.
• Not knowing what the hell I'm doing: Just when I feel like I've figured it out, I have no idea. Motherhood does NOT come naturally, and whoever coined that phrase sucks. 

Most Favorite:

• The affection: Oh, the hugs, the kisses, the smiles, the hand-holding, the giggles, the snuggles and cuddles. SO worth everything I mentioned up there. Giving love, getting love, showing love... it's just pure joy. One of my favorite memories is picking Banner up from his first day of school. I stood in the hallway waiting for the teacher to let the kids out one-by-one. When Banner saw me, he lit up and said, "MOMMMMMYYYYY!!!" as he ran to give me a hug. From that moment on, I decided I'm not going to do carpool unless absolutely necessary. So even when it's raining, Quinn is sleeping, and/or it is pretty darn cold out, I've been known to drag myself and my infant into the building just to have the joy of that sweet boy's excitement in seeing us at the end of his time away from us. I don't even know the number of parents who have said, "Why don't you do carpool!??!" And now they know why! Quinn has been giving great hugs and open-mouth kisses and cuddling up to us so tight. THE BEST! And, Banner's been really into hand-holding lately, and I just LOVE this. He wants to hold our hands when he's falling asleep, and if we try to pull away too soon, he grasps tighter. My immediate reaction: "I love you, too, sweet boy! I don't want to let go either."
• Watching them accomplish something: My heart is so full when I watch them meet a milestone or be able to do something on their own that is really important to them. Whether it's their first roll or putting his shoes on all by himself, it's amazing to watch the lightbulb go off and see the pride in their faces! In just the past two weeks, we've had a lot to celebrate around here. Quinn has been crawling and trying to pull up. Banner has been potty training (and at the time of this writing has gone 6 and a half days so far accident-free!). They are so very proud of themselves, and it's just a great place to be to see their faces light up with an expression of "Look at me! I did it!!" It makes me want to shout it to the world, too! (So I did - just now, on this blog!)
• Memories: Being a parent brings a different kind of fulfillment to my life now. And, I'll have these memories forever. I cherish them already - yes, already - in the not-even-3 years I've been a parent. Some memories are tangible: the little bib with Banner's initials that he wore so many days as a reflux-y baby; the onesie both boys wore to their first Race for the Cure; the artwork Banner brings home; the curly lock of hair we saved from Banner's first haircut; the sleepsack Quinn wore at the hospital and peed on I don't know how many times! Some of them are visual: pictures, scars, videos, marks on the wall, fingerprints. Sometimes it's a sound or a smell - a whiff of the soap we used to use when they were newborns or a recording of the way he used to say "more" or the way he'd giggle at his reflection or hearing another newborn cry. But, most of these memories are just stuck inside my mind - stories and images I'll have with me forever, so when they are older, bigger, taller... I will still have my little babies tucked safely away inside my mind for whenever I need a little visit from them.

*Past posts in this series can be found here: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7, Day 8, Day 9, Day 10, Day 11, Day 12, Day 13, Day 14, Day 15, Day 16, Day 17, Day 18, Day 19, Day 20,Day 21, Day 22, Day 23

30 Things in 30 Days (#23: Holiday)

Day 23: What is Your Favorite Holiday and Why?

Oh, yay! Another easy prompt!

Without a doubt, my favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. I love that it's an American holiday, not based on religion, that this whole country celebrates and has traditions for. I LOVE the fall season - the chill in the air, the aromas, the tastes, the colors. I love baking for Thanksgiving and getting together with family to enjoy each other and a yummy meal (after meal after meal)!

Growing up, we had Thanksgiving at my Grandma's house. All the cousins would play outside or we'd play "school" or "BS" in my mom's old room. We got to spend time with aunts and uncles, we'd eat amazing food, watch the Cowboys play, and then play some more until it was time to take our left-overs home late in the night. Somewhere along the way, our annual "tree pictures" started. The first memory I have of "tree pictures" started when we were at Grandma's, and our out-of-town cousins came over. We all headed outside at one point, had the littlest ones climb up in the branches of the trees, and everyone kind of gathered around for a photo shoot. Since then, during halftime, we head outside to take that year's picture. It's fun to look back at these pictures and see who was there that year, and it's also fun to remember what was going on at that time in our lives or even be able to date the photo by how old we were or who was born then or not yet.

2004

2009

2012

2013

When preparation for Thanksgiving got too taxing for Grandma, we moved it to my mom's house every year. Since then, there's been a wide variety of people who have joined us - even my dad used to come by the house with his younger kids as we got older and stopped spending every other Thanksgiving with him and Sally (who started driving out to a farther city for the holiday). After Sam and I got engaged, we started splitting the holiday with both sides of our family - going to my mom's for lunch and his parents' house for dinner. Yes, we ate a LOT! :) I have to say, it's the only part of Thanksgiving that I don't like now. I would much rather stay in one place with everyone together than to have to rush or plan for two meals....especially with two kids. Sam and I talk about how to make this easier each year - merge the families? spend every other year with one "side?" We're never sure how to remedy this feeling because we want to be with everyone!

Thanksgiving stands out to me, too, because it plays a special role in the history of my relationship with Sam: the year we started dating (the day before Thanksgiving); the year Sam came in just for the day, came by my mom's for a slice of Hershey bar pie, and then left to drive back to Austin because he had to work the next day; the year I went to Houston right before one of the two Thanksgivings that Sam couldn't come home (because he had to study for exams in law school) and I baked for him so he'd have his own little Thanksgiving away from home; the year we broke up (the day before Thanksgiving); the year Mara and Caden spent the night before Thanksgiving at our house, which was also the year Sam and I took pie baking classes and competed to see who made the best pies (it was our newlywed year); the year we told our families we were pregnant with Banner; and both of my kids' first Thanksgivings.

2009

2011 - Banner's first Thanksgiving

2013 - Quinn's first Thanksgiving

And, of course, you can't forget the meaning of such a wonderful holiday: to be thankful and to express your gratitude. I try to do this daily, but for everyone around you to be full of thanks and appreciation is such a blessing. When I was a school counselor, I implemented a "gratitude chain" that we used to decorate the hallway before Thanksgiving. Students and teachers were invited to write a student's name to recognize on the morning announcements. On the back of the slip of paper with the student's name, there was a reason that teacher or student was grateful for him/her. Then, after they were thanked over the announcements, the links were added to our hallway chain. Teachers would even comment on how the climate of the building became much more pleasant - because people were looking for reasons to be grateful, kids were more polite, and they were all looking for ways to be more helpful to each other. The chain served as a visual reminder to everyone that we are all grateful for each other. I think Thanksgiving does that for everyone - gives us a reminder to be appreciative of each other, of what we have, of who we are.

*Past posts in this series can be found here: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7, Day 8, Day 9, Day 10, Day 11, Day 12, Day 13, Day 14, Day 15, Day 16, Day 17, Day 18, Day 19, Day 20,Day 21, Day 22

30 Things in 30 Days (#22: Future)

Day 22: Where Do You See Yourself in 5 Years? 10 Years? 15 Years?

This is a much easier question to answer than the previous few! I am a planner, so of course I have a tentative answer for this kind of question! Sam and I even made a 5-year plan a few years ago. As it turns out, that 5-year plan was almost complete in about 2 years: start own law firm, have second child, resign... it was all mapped out, but we kinda did a lot of that faster than we originally planned. Regardless, it's always good to think ahead and have a plan, because I tend to get anxious without one!

5 Years:
-We will be living in a nearby neighborhood in the same city but not this same house. I would really like to not still be living here when Banner starts Kindergarten. We'll see. If we are, I'm okay with that, but I'd really like to NOT be.
-Banner will be almost 8 years old, and Quinn will be 5 and a half! That means, we will more than likely have a third little toddler running around.
-Sam's firm will be doing great, and perhaps we won't be living paycheck to paycheck. They will have hired associates by then.... or at least a legal assistant.
-We'll still be making ghastly tuition payments to the preschool of our choice - for our third child.
-I will have submitted a manuscript for a children's book. (Yes, Mom, I promise.)

10 Years:
-We'll have 3 kids (maybe 4 if I haven't lost my mind and we're not on welfare). They'll will all be school age.
-We will be planning Banner's Bar Mitzvah, and Quinn will be finishing fourth grade!
-I will have a housekeeper! :) God-willing, I will have a housekeeper!
-I will be working as a school counselor again, or at the very least be volunteering at the kids' schools.
-Sam would like to be able to be vacationing annually by now (if not way earlier).

15 Years:
-Banner will be graduating from high school, and we'll be in over our heads with college preparations!
-I'll be a wreck about my little boy leaving home.
-Quinn will be eagerly awaiting to be the oldest kid in the house! But, he'll be sad his best friend big brother won't be around to play with and get in trouble with. He'll want to borrow our car soon, and he'll want us to let him practice driving every chance he gets.
-Sam and I will be ready to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary. Maybe we'll take a trip - and be happy to get away from our teenage sons who are eating us out of house and home anyway!

*Past posts in this series can be found here: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7, Day 8, Day 9, Day 10, Day 11, Day 12, Day 13, Day 14, Day 15, Day 16, Day 17, Day 18, Day 19, Day 20, Day 21

30 Things in 30 Days (#21: My Parents)

Day 21: Describe Your Relationship with Your Parents

Oy. This is the first word that comes to mind at this prompt. Oy, because... well, I have indescribable relationships with both of my parents - just in very different ways. But, again, I'm challenging myself to answer these 30 prompts in 30 days, so I'm going to soldier on and write about the two people who brought me into this world.

I am the daughter of the most amazing woman. My mother, as far back as I can remember, was my everything. My relationship with her has always been special. It's the relationship I think most moms and daughters want with each other: loving, kind, supportive, nurturing, open, trusting, friendly. . .

My mommy was my hero growing up, and she still is. I only wanted to be with Mom when I was a little girl, and sometimes, it's the only place I still want to be. She was a stay-at-home mom when I was very little. We had fun together doing silly things like dancing around to (Mickey) Mousercize and making up funny dances in the car, and she had the most creative "punishments" when we misbehaved - making us stand "nose-to-nose/toes-to-toes," until our disagreements ended in laughter, or making us wash windows - one of us on the inside, one on the outside - again, so we'd end up goofing off and forgetting why we were annoyed with each other. When I was four, at the same time she was battling breast cancer, my dad divorced my mom. I had no idea what Mom was going through physically or emotionally. How could I at that age? I was naturally oblivious while Mom was suffering. Some of that is age, but most of it is that Mom was so good at always protecting us and keeping a stable environment so we didn't feel the stress of it (at least I didn't... Brock being older may have a different perspective). Throughout my school age years, Mom was always there supporting us, even if she was bone-tired and trying to manage her own career and household. She helped with homework, prepared home-cooked meals (except for Thursdays; those were pizza nights!), bathed us, read with us, played with us, and my favorite, cuddled with us. Those were always my favorite nights - when Mom would stop all the busy-ness and just sit holding us. Oh, how I loved just the four of us cuddling on the couch together right before bedtime. But I digress... :) Mom was always easy to talk to. She listened to my poems and short stories I'd write, she listened to me complain about my teachers, she set rules and boundaries that protected us and our friends, and she didn't care whether we liked it or not. I don't really remember being embarrassed by my mom - I remember thinking she was pretty awesome. As an early teenager, I was disgusted by the things some of my junior high peers were doing, and I would choose to be home a lot of the time. She was my haven, my safe place, and apparently, she was to a lot of other people, too. Mom was so close with her students, and with our friends. Our friends would confide in mom or run to her when they had to take a break from their own parents, one of her students once spent the night at our house after losing her own mother, and my friends were able to goof off and be silly with my mom. And, as I got older, she's been my sounding board and best friend.

At this point in my life, I am well aware of how lucky I am to have this beautiful person in my life. It's not just that she beat cancer twice. It's not just that she handled being a single parent for most of my childhood with great grace. It's not just that she always knows just what to say or how to handle herself with style and poise. She truly is a remarkable friend. Our relationship keeps me going, keeps me strong and resilient. We talk almost daily - always have. We're there for each other any hour of any day.  I know I'm her "baby," and she will always try to protect me and nurture me the way a mother always does - but I love that she confides in me, that she trusts me, that she cares about my opinions or advice. It makes me feel like I am worthy of her friendship, that she accepts me, that this is a two-way street and we are equally important to each other. I am who I am, I am the mother I am, I am the friend I am because of her.

**

I am also the daughter of a father, a father who is puzzling and perplexing and mysterious sometimes. My relationship with my dad is more complex and difficult to describe publicly. The easiest place to start is at the beginning. My very first memory of him is not even really of him, it's of waiting for him. I remember staring at the back door to the garage, waiting for the knob to turn to signify that my daddy would be walking in through that door any second. It never did. It's a perfect analogy for how my relationship has been most of my life with him - always waiting for him. I love my dad - very much. I love him so much that it hurts. He was rarely around when I was a young child. He just worked a lot. He was building his medical practice, and he was on-call a lot, and he was working really hard. I know that, and I knew it then. I never felt like he didn't love me; he just wasn't there much of the time - at least not in my memories before my parents divorced. Once they divorced, my memory gets a lot more clear. We were with Dad every other weekend and on Wednesday nights for dinner only (didn't spend the night). I liked my time with dad (once I got used to being away from my mom), but even on his weekends, we always had babysitters: Lisa, Lisa's mom "Granny," Wendy, Carolyn, Angie. We were often left with these women while Dad had to go deliver a baby at the hospital. I don't remember minding much, except when movies would get interrupted and we'd have to leave the theater because some lady was in labor. I usually didn't mind sitting at the hospital waiting for Dad at the nurses station (I was usually smelling the Sharpies and Expo markers...ha!), and sometimes it was fun to "make rounds" with him.

The rules were different at Dad's house than at Mom's - and I kind of liked the perks of it as a kid: fast food all the time, staying up really late, watching cable TV (which Mom didn't get until I was grown), cussing, just being able to do whatever we wanted. Dad remarried when I was 8. Sally had two children from a previous marriage who were only 4 and 2 years older than I was. Dad and Sally had 3 children together a short time after they got married: Sage, Trey, and Kindle. I loved watching them grow up, and I loved being with them. They were so cute and fun, and there was never a dull moment - even if Dad was away or had to do paperwork all night. This time in my life was rather smooth, and we made a lot of fun memories during the 18 years that Dad and Sally were married: fun trips, a family cruise, lots of Thanksgivings and Christmases and Hanukkahs and birthdays and New Years', lots of letters sent to me at camp with pictures of the little kids getting so big, many long drives to Sunday School, lots of us trying to talk Dad into letting us skip Hebrew school, going up to his office playing on the typewriter, lots of time in the pool....

These years were pretty calm. Mom and Dad were always working together as best they could to organize and discuss things and events for us. Planning Bar/Bat Mitzvahs, figuring out when we'd get cars, planning college attendance - you know, all the stuff parents have to discuss as their kids get older. It wasn't always pleasant, but I took great pride in how my parents could always be in the same room with each other and keep the peace. They were friendly to each other most of those years. I remember Dad being there for Mom when Grandma died, and I remember watching them hold hands at Brock's Bar Mitzvah. They congratulated each other when Caden was born or when we graduated high school and college. They were always a team in my eyes, even if we weren't the nuclear family everyone else seemed to have. I never, ever considered myself from a "broken home" just because my parents were divorced.

But, years passed, and things happened. For the privacy of others, I will skip the details of their divorce, but Dad and Sally's marriage ended pretty dramatically. Right when Mom and Sally were actually getting be "friends" and things were so "normal" again, Dad left Sally. My relationship with him hasn't been the same since. I found out a lot of stuff that just shook me, and while Dad was trying to be honest about it all, he just kept digging newer, deeper holes. The events that happened in the years immediately after Dad's second divorce just kept bringing more and more drama. And, I've had talk after talk and family meeting after family meeting with him - and he just doesn't seem to "get" what his kids have always needed from him. We need him. . . not his money, not his excuses, not his apologies, not his gifts or approval or, above all, his conditions. The events and the comments and the explanations - they all start to run together for me, I'm not even sure what or how or where it all went so downhill, but it did.

At this point, my dad and I have a "casual" relationship. I literally just looked up the definition of "casual" to be sure that's the word I want here. It means "happening by chance; without definite or serious intention; careless or offhand; passing; seeming or tending to be indifferent to what is happening; apathetic; unconcerned; irregular; occasional." Yep, that fits. I don't want it this way. It's not how it should be, at least not in my mind. But, I just can't devote any more energy or attention to fixing it. I have tried and tried. I don't want to give up, but I'm kind of there. I'd love for my kids to know my dad better, to feel that he knows them. If that happens, I'd be thrilled, but I'm not holding my breath anymore. I'm not going to sit and wait any longer - waiting for that damn doorknob to turn telling me that "Daddy's finally home!" He ain't comin', and if he is, he ain't stayin'. I used to cry and get so hurt by this, but I've mourned it enough already. I will always love and care for my dad very much. I don't regret my decisions I've made, and I don't think there's anything I could do better or different. My siblings and I all deal with the events and emotions in the past 8-9 years differently, and we are all very supportive and empathic to whatever we each need to do in order to be healthy.

That's what my dad would want for me anyway: to be healthy. And I am. And I have both of my parents to thank for that. They were equally responsible for helping me become the person I am today, showing me how to act and how not to act, how to think and how not to think. I'm grateful that I had these two as parents growing up and that they are still here and a part of my life. They weren't a great pair, we see that clearly now. They didn't and don't always agree. But, they both love me so much, and I love them both more than they'll ever know.

*Past posts in this series can be found here: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7, Day 8, Day 9, Day 10, Day 11, Day 12, Day 13, Day 14, Day 15, Day 16, Day 17, Day 18, Day 19, Day 20

30 Things in 30 Days (#20: Memories)

Day 20: Describe 3 Significant Memories from Your Childhood

I honestly feel like I need days to think about which 3 memories to write about. How can you pick only 3? Especially when I have a really solid long-term memory. But, the more I've thought about it, I tuned in to what the idea is behind these topics - that my children will one day have insight into who I am. So I'm taking advantage of this prompt to tell them things that may go untold otherwise.

So, here's what I chose. (And I'm sure once I publish this, I'll think of others that I wish I had chosen...)

-When my parents told me about their divorce: I don't remember how old I was when the discussion took place. I know they separated when I was 3 and a half, and they officially divorced when I was 4. So, I'm thinking this was closer to 4, but I vividly remember my mom and dad asking all three of us (kids) to come to their room. We sat down, and they told us that they weren't going to be married anymore. I don't remember exactly what was said, but I was very much thinking, "When can I go play with my toys?" I don't at all remember feeling sad, and I didn't seem to care much. I don't think I understood that they were telling me something that would change my life forever. I had no idea what consequences this would have on my weekly schedule nor on how I viewed relationships/marriages/family for the rest of my life. I only remember being bored with the discussion and wondering how long I had to sit there before I was told I could go play again. Most people think it's so sad that I was so young when my parents divorced. Honestly, I barely remember them being married at all. I vaguely remember my dad living at our house, but mostly, it's always been this way. So, in some ways, I'm glad I wasn't like Bernice in Hope Floats as she screams for her daddy to come back or like Sydney in Parenthood having an emotional breakdown as she finds out about her parents separating. But, I 100% identify with their pain and the yearning for their families to stay together and under one roof.

-When I started my period. I know, why would my kids ever want to know this? Ha! Well, I figure MAYBE - just maybe - I'll have a daughter, and maybe she'd want to know this, so I'll tell it now. And, my sons, well, they can pass it on to their kids! :) I was 11 (almost 12), and it was Father's Day weekend. I was at my mom's house during that summer day, and Brock had a friend over. I went to the bathroom, and I saw the slightest little smidge of something different when I wiped. I immediately went to get my mom thinking, "What the heck is that!?!" I had to whisper to her, because I was so embarrassed that Brock's friend might find out. When I took her to the bathroom with me, she said, "You started your period!!" and then she slapped me. :) Yep! Some weird family/Jewish/weird tradition where women slap you when you start your period. I've been told it's to get the blood to your cheeks rather than.... well, anyway, she slapped me. And, that night, I was at my dad's house for the weekend. As I went upstairs after saying goodnight, my OB/GYN dad stopped me and said, "Do you want to talk about anything? Do you have any questions?" Great dad moment; horrible, awkward, embarrassing daughter moment. At 11, I wanted to say NOTHING to him about this! "No, thanks," I said, and I calmly turned around and kept climbing those steps, wanting desperately to just get the hell to my room! And with that, I'll stop embarrassing my kids for even bringing this story up at all!

-When my Grandma died. Technically, I was not a "child" when my Grandma passed away. I was 23 years old then. But, Grandma was a huge part of my childhood, so this loss was huge, and it's one I recall vividly. I can still hear my Grandma's voice, and I can see her perfectly in my mind. She was an amazing lady, and I'm so fortunate to have a million memories with her - baking together, going bra shopping together, her picking me up from school with snacks (much healthier than the ones my Grandpa would bring), calling to check on me when I was sick, asking if I was okay after the emotional goodbye to a character on General Hospital, taking me to see Pretty Woman at the age of 9 (having no idea it was about a prostitute), singing next to me at Passover seder, asking me to give her back rubs, playing dress-up with her shoes in her closet, having her tuck me in at night when I'd spend the night at her house, her weather reports and updates, making fun of her crooked arthritic fingers or the way she said "Missoura" instead of "Missouri," laughing all night when we couldn't find the Alamo during our San Antonio trip, and hearing her voice on the other end of the line "Hi, Baby, it's Grandma." Oh, how I miss those calls. Her death is perhaps the only moment in my life that I describe as both scary and beautiful at the same time. She was not doing well in the hospital, and we knew she was not going to make it. My mom, aunt, and uncle knew Grandma wanted to be home. So, the day after Christmas, they made arrangements to have her transported home for a final goodbye. Once home, the family gathered and waited through the night to spend one last night with her. I remember doing "girly" things with her - putting lotion on her, brushing her hair, massaging her arms. We told her things we wanted her to know, even though she was not responding. The next day, on December 27th, we stood around Grandma's bed. My whole family (minus my cousin who lives out of town and couldn't make it home in time) stood gathered in a circle around her. Mom, Aunt Jacque, and Uncle Barry were on her bed with her. Then, the machine (respirator?) was turned off. We watched and waited, and as we held hands and cried and leaned on each other, we heard Grandma's breaths get farther and farther apart. Aunt Jacque started humming to her. Grandma seemed to be making humming noises, and I just remember the beauty and serenity of the lullabies Aunt Jacque was almost echoing back to her mother. Mom and Uncle Barry were talking to her and whispering in her ear. I was trying to hold it together. I wanted to hold my own mother as she watched her mother fading. It was peaceful, it was calm - but it was beyond frightening for me to lose her and see it and feel it. Yet, I am so grateful that I was there - to be there for her, I know she knew we were all there with her. It was the most beautiful thing. To be there as her soul moved from here to wherever it goes next.... and it was in this moment that I believed there just has to be a God. Grandma died the day before her 79th birthday, a Saturday, Shabbat. I remember the rabbi talking about how she died on a day that brought the most closure to a beautiful circle of life. She had completed a year, completed the week, and died on the sabbath. There was meaning in that for me. And, he talked about how we were all there with her - that it represented what a beautiful life she had. Every time I think about my Grandma's death, I tear up - and it's hard for me to even talk about it without getting too emotional. I love that Grandma was in her own house, in her own room. She was surrounded by the people who loved her most, and she had her possessions and pictures nearby. If life must end, I think we should all be so lucky to have this kind of beautiful ending.

*Past posts in this series can be found here: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7, Day 8, Day 9, Day 10, Day 11, Day 12, Day 13, Day 14, Day 15, Day 16, Day 17, Day 18, Day 19