To Be in Love with a Baby

"We're so in love!"

We've all heard it, seen it, or even said it. Someone announces the arrival of a newborn baby and declares, "We're so in love!" This may seem like an exaggeration or a misnomer.  "Love" is different from "in love". You can love someone very much without being in love with the person, and vice versa. Usually, "in love" refers to the all-encompassing emotion a person feels when he has a strong romantic interest in another, especially if it is a relatively new interest.

If, say, a man is in love with a woman, he can't stop thinking about her. He stares at her. He thinks she is beautiful. He sees through rose-colored glasses. All the unpleasantries and flaws she has either go unnoticed or they don't bother him. He'll do anything for her.

It is the same way when you have a new baby. You can't stop thinking about her. You stare at her. You think she is the cutest, most adorable baby to have ever graced this planet. You might notice unpleasantries (e.g., dirty diapers), but you don't care. You're totally enamored by her and you'll do anything for her.

When my girls were babies, they both spit up really bad. At one point, my husband was talking to one of them and said, "I like the smell of spit-up 'cause it means that you're around." The smell of spit-up isn't pleasant. But he was in love.  

Later on, you look back at newborn pictures and suddenly realize that she actually looked a tiny bit like an alien. An adorable alien, but still... And the dirty diapers start to get to you. You don't love your baby any less (if anything, you love her more), but you're not constantly "in love," like you were in the earlier days. But you still have your moments.

Even though Little and Big Sisters are no longer babies, we still have moments when we are so in love with them. We squeal with delight when they're being sweet. We think they are the most adorable little girls. Big asked Little for one of the crayons she was holding, and when Little responded with a firm, "No!", Big wasn't upset. She turned to me and said, "Her 'no' is cute." Then, a few mornings ago, Little woke up after Big did, and I brought her to see her Big Sister before she left for school. Little was in her just-woken-up glory: warm snuggles, messy hair, sleepy eyes, full diaper and all. Big gave her a kiss and said, "I like how she smells." Odd comment considering the circumstances (she had to have smelled that diaper), but...she was in love. One day, Little gathered her shoes and coat and stood by the front door, saying "Sistah" because she was ready to go get her from the bus stop. It was only 10:00 am. She was in love.

When someone says they're in love with their baby, it's not a misnomer. They're just as head-over-heels, stars-in-the-eyes, hopelessly in love with the baby as much as anyone ever was with a romantic interest.

Winter, How Do I Hate Thee? Let Me Count the Ways....and What I'm Going to Do about It

I spent most of my childhood in the South, where the winters produced only a few snow flurries, if we were lucky. The snow flurries were exciting, but I yearned to see real snow. When I graduated from high school, I moved across the country for college, in a place where snow was plentiful in the winters. On the first snow day of my freshman year, I squealed with delight and headed outside to play in the snow. I was not alone. Others from warmer areas of the country were also jumping gleefully through the snow. So I enjoyed that winter. But after seven winters there, I was so over it.

Even after moving to a warmer climate for a few years, a bit of me died with the leaves every time they started falling off the trees, signalling winter was on its way. I hate winter. Last year, we moved further up north just in time for one of the worst winters in 20 years. The snow here starts in the fall and piles up and stays frozen until the Spring. One day last winter, the temperature reached a low of -40 degrees Fahrenheit (including wind chill). My ignorant self did not previously realize it got that cold in the US, with the exception of maybe Alaska. Last winter was rough on everyone, and I tried to stay positive, but it was hard. I don't regret moving here; aside from the bad winters, it is a good place to live. Honestly, unless I were in Hawaii, I'd probably hate winters anywhere I lived. 

This year, I woke up on Halloween to find snow on the ground. It was a light covering that melted by the end of the day, but still, one look at the snow had me mentally fighting off expletives for a minute. I hate swear words, but I don't know what can better express how I feel about winter. And, by the way, in my world, no matter what month it is, snow, cold, coats, bare tree branches, and/or darkness at 5 pm means that it's winter.

 

Winter, how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways...

1. I hate being cold. It is miserable. No amount of layers can warm me up. Okay, that's a lie. If I'm wearing three layers of clothes in a heated house, lying down on the couch with eight blankets on top of me, then I'm warm. But really, who can do that for very long? I've got things to do.

2. I hate the snow and ice. The snow gets everything wet and messy. And after a while, the snow gets dirty. So gray snow invades the car, the house, and boots and clothes. Snow and ice are dangerous. It makes driving and walking difficult. I am far more nervous when driving in the winter than any other season. Plus, the snow and ice are just plain annoying. You have to shovel and sprinkle (salt) and scrape continuously.

3. I hate the bulkiness. I want to punch people who say that cold is better because you can always add more layers. I can't stand layers. It is so restricting. It gets in the way. I can't wash dishes, or even wash my hands without getting my sleeves wet, or constantly pushing the sleeves up. Furthermore, pushed-up sleeves become stretched out. Wearing a winter coat is like trying to go about your life while you're being perpetually hugged. You can't move very freely. Winter clothes are so much thicker and trying to shove them in closets and drawers can be aggravating.

4. I hate how it's time-consuming and so inconvenient. In the summer, all you have to do is slip on a pair of sandals. If it's really hot, you might grab a bottle of water, and, if you'll be outside a while, some sunscreen. But that's it. You can then walk out of the house, buckle up in the car, and leave. In the winter, I have to add at least an additional twenty minutes to prepare myself and my two daughters to go anywhere. There are sweaters, boots, gloves, hats, scarves, and coats to don. And don't forget, children in car seats aren't supposed to wear big winter coats under their straps. So we put on a lighter coat, put them in the seat, then put a big coat on them backwards. Once you finally get outside, ofttimes you have to shovel and scrape the snow and ice off the car and driveway (That's not included in my extra twenty minutes, by the way). Afterward, you finally get in the car and slowly drive to your destination, straining to see in snowstorms while trying to avoid sliding on ice and getting stuck in the snow. When it's time to get out, you remove the backwards big coat from the child, unbuckle the car seat, and put the coat on the right way. This fun coat switcheroo has to happen every time you get in and out of a car. And then when you get into a building, the coats, gloves, hats, and scarves come flying off, and you end up carrying them around and trying to keep track of them and not lose anything.

5. I hate the overabundant static electricity. The shocks. The hair standing up or plastered to faces and clothing. It's annoying. And much more prevalent in the winter.

6. I hate the holiday pressure. Holidays are usually a perk to most people's otherwise dull or dreadful winter. I have tried for years to feel the "holiday spirit" and have a good time, but I always end up stressed and depressed and glad when the holidays are over.

7. I hate the dullness and darkness. Here, it starts to get dark at 4:45pm when daylight savings time ends. That is so depressing. Even during the day, much of the time it is overcast, and everything looks gray and barren.

8. I hate the sicknesses. Winter is flu season. Germs are passed around more easily. All sicknesses and colds are more rampant in the wintertime.

9. I hate the dryness. My hands get so dry, they crack and bleed and sting and hurt. I'm constantly slathering them with lotion.

What I'm going to do about it:

1. Hot chocolate. I am investing in some good hot chocolate and will drink lots of it. Apple cider, too.

2. Good clothes. I opened the boxes of my winter clothes in the basement, and felt a hint of bitterness and disgust. I would rather not have to wear long sleeves and boots at all, but since I have to, I'm only going to take out the ones I like a lot, even if that means I have to do laundry more often. All of the others will stay exiled in the basement. Actually, I should probably just donate them. I also plan on investing in some more merino wool socks and other good-quality, warm clothes. I want to find another pair of fur-lined boots. I got one pair last winter and they are wonderfully warm. I like to wear fleece-lined tights or leggings under my jeans in the winter, but I recently saw some fur-lined leggings at a store in the mall. The saleslady who saw me looking at them told me that they felt like "kittens hugging your legs". What an interesting (and kinda creepy) way to put it. I didn't have enough time to try them on right then, but I intend to go back, and if they're really that great, I may be the owner of some fur-lined leggings.

3. Winter science. I'm going to try those neat experiments you can do in subzero temperatures. I'll toss hot water into the air outside and watch what happens. I'll blow bubbles outside and watch them freeze. Maybe I'll make those Ice Ornaments/Marbles that are all over Pinterest. (You fill a balloon with water and food coloring, freeze them outside, then cut off the balloon and then you have some neat outdoor decorations.) There are lots of lists of neat science-y things to do online. One of the lists I found is at http://www.coolantarctica.com/Antarctica%20fact%20file/things_to_do_when_its_cold_outside.php.

4. Organization. I'm trying to come with a system to deal with the mess of coats, jackets, gloves, scarves, and hats. I haven't perfected it yet, but it will involve installing some shorter hooks in my house so my kids can get down and hang up their own coats.

5. Exercise. The only kind of exercise I enjoy is dancing. I'm going to dance more. It'll warm me up, and make me healthier, too. Notice I didn't say I'd go skiing, snowboarding, or the like. Winter sports make winter fun for many people, but they do not appeal to me in the least. I'll probably go sledding with my kids. Other than that, activities which require extensive time to be spent outdoors in the winter, particularly having to do with sports, sound terrible to me. (I was reading about winter sports, and ice swimming was mentioned. As in, you break ice off the top of a freezing lake, and you go swim around in that water! Not a dunk, like a Polar Plunge, but actually swimming. Why would one torture oneself like that?)

6. Distractions. I'm going to work on improving my writing, sewing, knitting, and crocheting. I might take some classes. I'm going to venture out of my house and find things to do beyond my normal routines. I'll try to meet with people, talk with people, and serve people.

7. Rethink holidays. I'm currently in the process of rethinking holidays and figuring out why they stress me out and why I don't enjoy them. For starters, I'm doing the celebratory things I want to do, not what you're "supposed" to do around the holidays. For example, I enjoy doing crafts, but I don't enjoy cooking. So this year, we'll have more new homemade decorations and less homemade cookies.

8. Lighting. I am investing in one of those super-bright lamps to help elevate my mood on dull, dreary days.

9. Be grateful. I'm going to try to focus on the good things. I'm grateful for a heated home and warm clothes and good food. I'm grateful for electricity and the water heater. I'm grateful for a car with four-wheel drive. I'm grateful for the internet. I'm grateful for family.

 10. Helpful tips. I've decided that I'm going to compile a list of helpful tips to get through the winter. I have some tips of my own, but I'm always looking for more. Here's one of mine: If you must go to a grocery store when it's icy, try to find a parking spot next to a cart corral so that you can quickly grab a cart and essentially use it as a walker to lean on so you don't slip and fall on the way in the store.

So, there you have it...what I hate about winter, and what I'm doing about it!

The Blessing of Boredom

The doctor came into the small room, looking down at my daughter's recent lab work results. He then exclaimed, "Well, her blood work is getting really boring!" I was taken aback for a second, not expecting him to use the word "boring" when talking about my precious little girl. And then I quickly realized that "boring" in this case was a good thing. It meant her results were stable; that they weren't getting worse. "Boring" is usually a word met with negativity. Being bored is not fun. But I am reminded from time to time that boredom is not always a bad thing.

Life has exciting, happy times. But much of our normal day-to-day living is boring. It doesn't really matter what your profession or way of life is; even the most exciting of activities can become routine and boring if you do it often enough. I grew up in the South, where snow was rare. I moved across the country to go to college, in a place where snow was plentiful in the winter months. The first snow day turned me into a five-year-old, squealing and giggling as I rushed outside to play and examine the fascinating, cold, white powder. However, after many winters of snow, it's no longer exciting. It's boring and annoying.

In the weeks and months leading up to my children's births, I was excited about their impending arrivals, but my day-to-day routines of cooking, cleaning, and school were boring. I felt that if my life was different in a number of ways, I would be less bored. If I had a busier social life, if I had more friends, if I traveled more, if I had an impeccably organized house with trendy home decor, I'd have a more full, exciting life, even throughout the daily grind.

Both of my daughters had a hospital stay longer than my own when they were born. During those days, my mind was filled with so much worry and exhaustion, boredom seemed to me to be a luxury. I distinctly remember late one night after spending the day at the hospital at the cribside of our younger daughter, my husband and I were driving home to try and get some sleep. I remember looking up at the dark sky and suddenly remembering what my stresses were just a few weeks earlier: my social life and the way my house looked. It was strange to realize that those things seemed so important to me at the time, but they had not even crossed my mind in the couple weeks since my daughter's birth. It seemed like a lifetime ago that those things mattered to me. All I cared and thought about was my sick baby.

I look back at that time and realize now that boredom can be a blessing, not only because boredom usually means a lack of major crises, but also because boredom leads to reassessment and hones creativity. You can look for things that may be missing in your life. You can add things to enrich your life. During my most recent phase of boredom, I've found ways to add more things into my life that interest me, such as art, writing, dancing, and service. Even very busy people can experience boredom in what they do. There are people who rarely have a free moment but are still bored because what they do is not interesting to them. This calls for some creativity. A while ago, I was very frustrated with the mundanity of endless chores and duties. So, I decided to try hard to be creative and come up with ways to make my routine more interesting. I've worked to find more humor in my life, and I've tried to spice up boring tasks with music, dancing, and other approaches. I came up with "5 Unique Ways to Have Fun Cleaning Up". These aren't huge differences, but a little goes a long way to make things more interesting.

I still get bored, but it's important to remember that boredom isn't always bad! It can be a blessing!

Toddlers and Medicine: 8 Ways to Get Your Toddler to Take Medicine

It's time. I make my preparations and take a deep breath. I go in. I've been doing this every single day for over a year. It was easy at first, but it's growing increasingly difficult. With each passing day, I try. And try and try and try. At times it seems futile. There are tears, fights, struggles, and frustrations. But maybe today will be different. Maybe it'll be easier. I can only hope. I take another deep breath and begin the process of giving a toddler medicine. This work is not for the weak.

My daughter, who I'll call Little Sister, has been taking medication for a health condition since she was a newborn. One of the medications is in a non-dissolving powder form. When it could no longer be mixed in her milk, I mixed it into her baby food and fed it to her with no problem. However, when she was just over one year old, she decided that she didn't want me to spoon-feed her anymore. If she fed herself the medicine, there's no way all the medicine would have made it into her body. She also wasn't interested in eating very much. So I was left encouraging, coercing, bribing, and fighting her to take the medicine every day. Over the past year or so, I've tried many methods to get her to take her medicine.

Here are a few tips:

1. Have back-up. Getting another adult will be helpful. An older child, especially a sibling of the toddler, can also be helpful to you and encouraging to the toddler.

2. Secure the child. Put toddler in a highchair or booster seat. Buckle him in. This eliminates the problem of chasing down the child and attempting to feed him in awkward positions, which often leads to the medicine getting everywhere except in the child's mouth. You can also have another adult hold the child, but I've found that that usually leads to medication spills on the other adult. Don't let the toddler down until he has taken all the medicine.

3. Keep a favorite drink handy. Fill a sippy cup with something you know the child likes. It's good to wash the medicine down, and if it takes more than one bite or gulp to eat all the medicine, it's nice to have a drink in between bites for a little break.

4. Keep it positive. This is hard, because it's very stressful when a child refuses to take medicine, but try to make it a positive experience. Force may be necessary in the end, but first try hard to make it a good experience. And when the child takes the medicine, even if it was a bad experience, give yourself a pat on the back. At least she has the medicine in her body.

5. If you come across troubles, ask your doctor and/or pharmacist for advice.

Methods for administering medication orally:

1. The Airplane
One of the most popular, yet least-effective methods out there, the airplane is just what you think it is: pretending the medicine dispenser is an airplane and flying it around before it "lands" in the child's mouth. This does not work very well for my child, but occasionally it does, so it's worth a try. Play around with it a little. Make sound effects or imitate a pilot. Pretend to almost fly it into the mouth of yourself, another child, a doll, or stuffed animal, and then dramatically say something like, "That's not where it's supposed to go!" Or, "Wrong destination! It's supposed to go here!" as you "fly" it into the correct mouth.

2. Different Mixtures
Sometimes switching up the food that the medicine was mixed into is helpful. We usually do applesauce, baby food, or yogurt, but also tried pudding, milkshakes, and rice krispie treats. We even added some of the powdered medicine into some melted chocolate, which we put into molds to harden up. Liquid medications can also be added to a small amount of juice in a sippy cup. It's a good idea to check with your doctor or pharmacist about mixing medication into something else. Some meditations may change properties when administered in different forms.

3. Hip Hip Hooray! (Or Touchdown!)
This is a fun one that worked for quite a while. It takes two people. One person feeds the medicine. The other person stands behind the child and takes both of their hands. Tap his hands on his hips twice, and then raise his hands as high as they'll go, as you cheerfully say, "Hip Hip Hooray!!!" Once the hands are in the air, the other person feeds the medicine. Be sure to keep his arms close to his head. This way, he can't use his hands to swipe the medicine away, and his arms close to his head keeps him from turning his head away. Playfully saying "Hip Hip Hooray!" makes it into a fun game of sorts. It takes several bites to get all the medicine into my child, so every couple of bites, I'd let go of her hands and give her a break. Eventually, she started putting her hands up in the air by herself, which looked like she was indicating a touchdown. So now when we say, "Touchdown!", she knows to put her hands in the air for her medicine. The "Touchdown" method may be particularly helpful to older toddlers who have an interest in football or sports in general.

4. Dispenser
If you are administering a oral liquid medication with a medicine dropper or syringe, put the tip of the dispenser to the side of the mouth, and toward the back (not all the way back). If you put it straight to the back of the tongue, it'll trigger gag reflex, and if you put it in the front of the mouth, it's really easy for the child to push or spit the medicine out. You can also try different kinds of dispensers, like pacifier dispensers, baby bottle nipple dispensers, or this cute AVA the Elephant dispenser.

5. Cheering!
This is one of the best methods in our house. It worked for a while, then stopped working. But we tried it again later, with more enthusiasm, and it worked again. The key here is encouraging and cheering. Be overly dramatic about it. As you bring the medicine to the toddler, give a pep-talk and act excited. Every single bite gets championship-game-worthy cheering and high-fives. Yes. It is ridiculous. And exhausting. But it works for us. And it makes our Little happy. We do it even if other people are around. Usually other people get into it and join the cheering, as well. Little Sister loves to get high-fives from her Big Sister after every bite, even if she is in another room. Thankfully, Big Sister always obliges and gets just as excited as everyone else when a bite is accomplished.

Also, remember to cheer and applaud even if the medicating ends up being a fight. You may want to be more mellow about it in this case, but anytime a toddler swallows medicine is cause for some encouragement and celebration.

6. Stuffed Animals and Dolls
If plain 'ole cheering doesn't work, this usually does. Bring in a favorite doll or stuffed animal. Pretend to give it medicine. Then cheer and high-five the favorite toy. Have the toddler high-five her toy. Then say that it's her turn, and give medicine to the toddler, followed by cheering and high-fives. The toddler and favorite toy take turns taking the medicine until it's all gone. Again, ridiculous, but I'll feel and look ridiculous if that's what it takes.

And if all else fails...

7. Trickery
You look for any possible time the toddler's mouth is open. Distract with toys. If she opens her mouth in a smile, pop the medicine in. If she's playing with a favorite toy, snatch the toy away. When she opens her mouth in cry or protest, sneak the medicine in. When she opens her mouth in screams of frustration, put some medicine in. Give the child something she likes (it could be an M&M). Hold it at her mouth. Right when she opens his mouth for the M&M, quickly switch it out for the medicine. And then give her the M&M once she swallows the medicine. This is not a fun way to go. But sometimes nothing else works and the child just really needs her medicine. Even with this, you're at the mercy of the child and whether or not she spits it back out.

8. Bribery
It's not the best option, and it won't work with very young toddlers, but once the child understands it, it works. The key is to keep it small; make it more of an incentive than a bribe. The child gets a single chocolate chip or M&M when he takes his medicine. The best is when you can bribe with something healthy. My daughter loves her new vitamins so much, we can use the vitamin as a bribe.

If nothing works, you're not alone. Medication administration has left both my child and me in tears on multiple occasions. Do your best and try, try, try again!

How to be Great

Last month, I attended my grandfather's funeral. I have always regarded my grandfather as a great man, but had never thought too much about why I thought he was great. When he died, I was touched by the many comments I read and heard from people. So many people, from all seasons of his life, commented on how he had affected them, and how they remembered his influence, even after many years.

As I was browsing through condolences on social media, I repeatedly came across the words "warm", "mentor", "nice", "smile", "kind", "example", "loving", and "inspiration". Multiple people recalled my grandfather as being a good home teacher, which is a testament of how he served others with love, and did not only regard his fellow man as a duty or chore. He loved children, and held many a crying child on his lap as he gave them a bit of candy he carried with him. Children loved him. One neighbor considered him a second father and learned much from him in his childhood years. One lady told of how she knew my grandfather when she was a young girl. On one occasion, she was being loud and silly at a party, when a person unkindly told her she needed to calm down and stop being so loud. My grandfather then stepped in and told her that he thought all young people should be happy. Another person said that she often felt out of place and judged. However, when she was around my grandpa, she always felt love and acceptance from him. I, too, never felt I needed to be anyone other than who I was to be loved by him. He did not condone bad choices, but he never held back love. He almost always had a smile on his face, and is one of the greatest examples of a life well-lived that I have. He was one of the greatest people I have known.

I share this experience because it was an important lesson for me. I often don't feel like I can be great. It is easy to be tricked into believing that greatness is reserved for the popular, the famous, the rich, those with big career successes, and those who do significant things for large groups of people, and are recognized for it. My grandfather was intelligent and successful in his career. He also served in the military and held several high positions in the church of which he was a lifelong member. Those things were mentioned in his funeral by way of eulogy, but the vast majority of the funeral was about his character. And that is what made him great. He may have appeared to have been ordinary in the eyes of most of the world, but his simple, loving gestures positively influenced all around him and made him a great person. The more I think about it, the more I realize there are so many people in this world who appear ordinary, but who are actually some of the greatest among us.

Cauliflower Breadsticks: Fail

I try to prepare healthy food for my family. I don't consider myself a "health nut". I enjoy sweets and other not-so-healthy foods, but I'm careful. I rarely buy soda, candy, cookies, or potato chips, although we keep a pretty steady supply of ice cream in our freezer. I often open a can of veggies or pull out some carrots, peppers, or celery to go with our meals. But I don't usually try anything unique or time-consuming with vegetables. A while ago, I saw a recipe for Cauliflower Breadsticks. This was my thought process:

'Ooo, breadsticks! I love breadsticks. Surely this won't taste just like regular breadsticks. After all, it does have cauliflower in it, but it'll still satisfy my bread cravings AND it'll have a vegetable in it... And look, it has high reviews. I am going to make this! I feel so proud of myself for making something new that's super HEALTHY!'

I gathered the ingredients and began making Cauliflower Breadsticks. Yum! The first step was to chop cauliflower and put it in a food processor. Well, my food processor/chopper can only handle about one cup at a time. Processing a whole head of cauliflower into teeny tiny pieces was taking a long time. And I was getting really hungry. Before I knew what I was doing, I pulled out a bag of Ranch Doritos and started munching on them while I worked with the cauliflower. 

All the cauliflower was finally to the size it needed to be. The next step was microwaving it, and then putting it in a dish towel. I then spent several minutes squeezing out all the excess moisture.

Still munching on Doritos. Yum.

I finished preparing the cauliflower and added the other necessary ingredients. I smashed it all down on a cookie sheet and popped it in the oven. When it was done, I cut it into breadstick-sized pieces. I proudly served the cauliflower breadsticks onto everyone's plates. Breadsticks! With healthy cauliflower inside! With great anticipation, I took my first bite and it tasted--- like cauliflower. It tasted like cauliflower, with cheese and some spices. I was disappointed.

Lessons I learned:

1. The purpose of making a healthy dish is defeated when it takes so long and you get so hungry, you break out a bag of Doritos to tide you over. (P.S. I really do rarely buy Doritos. Because when it's in my house, it's way too tempting.)

2. What kind of a cruel joke is it to call something "Cauliflower Breadsticks" when it doesn't taste at all like breadsticks? Maybe I'll make some Radish Garlic Candy for you. It looks like candy, but has the health benefits of radishes and garlic. Yum, right?!

I now realize the "breadsticks" in "Cauliflower Breadsticks" was referring to how they look, not how they taste, similar to "brownie pizza". Even the nomenclature of the breadstick refers to bread shaped like a stick, not flavored like a stick. I should have known better. But still. I was hoping it would be one of those cake/applesauce things, where you can replace the oil with applesauce, and it tastes about the same, but is healthier for you. Which leads me to my next lesson....

3. I need to take a closer look at the ingredients. If something is 90% cauliflower, it'll probably taste like cauliflower.

4.  It actually wasn't a bad recipe for cauliflower. I was just expecting something different.

5. But apparently it wasn't a good enough recipe, because no one wanted leftovers, and I ended up throwing half of it away. Sigh.

What Parenting Is REALLY Like

 Sometimes I wonder what my childless friends might think when they read articles, blogs, tweets, status updates, or hear songs and comedians on the subject of parenting or children. You hear both extremes: the trials and chaos and hardship of having children, and the joyful, heart-bursting happiness that comes with having children. I generally see more blogs and articles dealing with the former of the extremes. I can see how those without children would think those with children are crazy, especially when they add more to their brood amidst complaining about parenting. I can see how it may be confusing, seeing things of both extremes. Heck, sometimes I get confused.

As much as I'd like to always rejoice in all things parenting and never complain and never joke about it, that's not how it is. There are times I roll my eyes or sink in a puddle of tears (on really hard days) when I read something cheesy about how someone feels so over-the-moon happy and exhilarated with their children and how so in love they are with them. I enjoy reading humor about tough parenting situations. While I was knee-deep in potty training a very difficult potty trainee, I laughed myself to tears when I read this blog entry (I don't know how funny it is to anyone else; I was reallly tired that night). I do feel guilty sometimes for enjoying the jokes because I know it probably doesn't make having children very appealing.

Jim Gaffigan is one of my favorite comedians. Apparently he's been accused of being "anti-family" because of how much he jokes about parenting his five children. In his book, "Dad is Fat," he writes, "Anti-family? This could not be further from the truth. I love being a parent and enjoy finding the humor in parenting...You joke about it. That's how you deal. If parents don't like being a parent, they don't talk about being a parent. They are absent...Failing and laughing at your own shortcomings are the hallmarks of a sane parent."

I like how he explains it. Parenting is wonderful, but it is hard. When you read an article detailing the hardships of parenting, or full of complaints or jokes about children, the writer of that article is venting. They're looking for support and providing support for those in similar situations. It's therapeutic. I find support and community with people who write these kinds of things. I do prefer a touch of humor, rather than solid complaining. 

Even with the humor, I get tired of reading all the "parenting is hard" stuff sometimes. It becomes annoying after a while. Because sometimes I do feel ecstatic and hopelessly in love with my children. I love them and feel so blessed and fortunate to have them all the time, but sometimes I feel so happy about it, my heart can't contain my emotions. I feel like they're the best, funniest, most awesome and adorable things in the world, and I don't know what I'd do without them.

I know it sounds crazy.

It is possible to pull your hair out and want to send the kids to boarding school...and then feel overwhelming happiness and elation because of those same kids...on the same day. Sometimes in the same hour.

During my girls' babyhood, I have been unshowered, in my pajamas, sleep deprived and covered in spit-up at noon...and been extremely happy. I have been unshowered, in my pajamas, sleep deprived and covered in spit-up at noon...and been grouchy and depressed.

Just like any other thing in life, parenting is complex. It is not one-sided. It has multiple dimensions. It is not all up or all down. It is not all happy and pleasant. Some days, or a lot of days in a row, it is hard to see the beauty of it. But parenting is wonderful. Wonderful in a way that can't be explained very well. The love you experience gives you a kind of worry and stress you've never felt before. But that love also gives you gifts of joy, deep meaning, and happiness you've never felt before.

*Disclaimer: I am only speaking from my own experience as a mother of a 5-year-old and a 2-year-old. Obviously, other parents have other perspectives on parenting, depending on their own unique children and the ages of their children. This is just what I've learned.

High School: Miss Bashful

During my senior year of high school, I had senioritis. Big time. I was so ready to move on. I never liked school, and high school was no exception. In fact, it was actually the hardest of all the school years. Don't get me wrong. It wasn't all bad. I was a good student, I had good experiences, and I grew a lot. I was close to my family, and I enjoyed being in the band (as in, marching band...yeah...I'm that cool). But it was a very hard time for me. I hated the strict structure of everything. I was awkward and shy and peculiar. I wasn't close to very many people outside my family.  

My high school did senior superlatives. The senior class voted for a girl and guy to award the titles of "Best Smile", "Most Athletic", "Class Clown", etc. One of the categories was "Most Bashful". When I started high school, I vowed to myself that that would not be me. I hated being shy. I was given that label at a very young age. It was accurate-I was shy. But that wasn't the whole story. When I was younger, the perceived shyness was partly due to my being quiet and wanting to observe and warm up to a situation I was unfamiliar with. Sometimes I just didn't know what to say. When I got older, I really wanted to talk and have friends. I wanted to socialize. But by then, I had that label. Everyone knew me as shy. People didn't talk to me. Whenever I did say something, everyone would stare at me, shocked, and say, "She talks!" That's not exactly encouraging for someone who's trying to open up more. It brought a lot of the wrong kind of attention to me and made me want to crawl back in my shell. Sometimes I didn't say much because I couldn't hear very well. It's hard to join in a conversation when you're only catching bits and pieces of it. (More about the social awkwardness of hearing loss here.)

By the time that last year of high school rolled around, I had given up on my determination that I would not be picked as "Most Bashful". I figured it was probably inevitable. I soon found out that I was one of the three "finalists". Fantastic. So a fierce competition ensued. Just kidding. A quiet, subdued non-competitive wait ensued. When I got my ballot, I marked my vote for one of the other people on there, and turned it in. The votes were counted, and lo and behold, I was crowned as Miss Bashful. (No, I wasn't crowned, and I wasn't given the title of "Miss Bashful". But it's the closest I'll come to being a glamorous beauty queen, so just go with it.) I went outside with my male counterpart to get a yearbook photo taken, during which we were told we needed to smile more and stand closer together. The resulting picture was a very stereotypical view of two bashful people.

Despite what you might think from my description of this senior superlative experience, it really wasn't a huge, defining experience in my life. It was more amusing than anything. The month after I graduated high school, I moved to the other side of the country to attend college. I had a fresh start. I opened up. I made friends. Some people hardly believed me when I revealed the fun fact that I was voted "most bashful" girl of my senior class. I wasn't life-of-the-party outgoing, but I was definitely not so bashful. I still get a bit shy in certain situations now, but nothing like before.

When my older daughter was three years old, she was told she was shy because she was being quiet in a new situation. That made me really upset because she is usually quite social, but when someone gave her that label, she used it to retreat in situations she normally wouldn't. Let's be careful with labels! People tend to live up (or down) to labels and expectations.

During my last year of high school, the principal was talking to a bunch of seniors and said that we'll look back and realize that those high school years were the best years of our lives. I remember thinking, "Wow. What does that say about the rest of my life? If that's true, I must have a terrible life in front of me." Fortunately, I didn't take that personally, and I didn't believe it. And it's not true for me. I had a wonderful, albeit challenging, time in college. I have many dear friends from that time. I married the man I love. I have two sweet daughters. Things are still hard, but in very different ways. High school years weren't the best years of my life. Teenagers may have a hard time seeing a life past high school, but it's there. And it's promising. High school years are important and influential, but it doesn't have to define you or what the rest of your life will be like. Part of who I am is because of my high school experience, but most days, those years don't even cross my mind. It was ten years ago that I graduated high school, but it seems like high school was a different lifetime. Things are so different now, and I am so different now.

5 Unique Ways to Have Fun Cleaning Up

Toys. Books. Clothes. Shoes. Spilled food. All over the floor. All the time. At least it seems that way. Even as I try to teach my young children to pick up after themselves, I still bend over and pick things up approximately 1,473 times a day. As I've done so, I've come up with a few ways to make it more interesting.

1. THE BOW. You've done a great job. Take a bow. Imagine roaring applause, all for you, as you pick up that toy.

2. THE CURTSY. The ladylike version of the bow. Curtsy down to pick up the freshly-made sandwich a certain small person decided she didn't want. It will make you feel more like a princess and less like a slave.

3. CURTSY-JUMP-SPIN. This is my favorite. Curtsy, pick up the item, and then jump out of the curtsy as you spin slightly so that your feet land side by side, ready to stroll.

4. THE GYMNAST. After you lean over, jump up and try to stick a perfect landing: feet together, both arms proudly up high in the air, topped off with a handful of dirty clothes you'll then throw into the laundry hamper, like a basketball in a hoop. There-now you're a world-class gymnast AND a champion basketball star.

5. BEND AND SNAP. Ok, so this move in Legally Blonde was meant to attract a crush, but it might be fun to incorporate it into housework. There's a tutorial (with pictures) you can look at if you're not familiar with it. Or you can Youtube it. Just be very careful-we don't want any broken noses.

Have fun!

Kids Eating on Carpet

We moved into a new place several months ago. The kitchen is more spacious than what I've had in the past, and our kitchen table has a room of its own. Our "dining room" is only separated from the kitchen by a countertop with cupboards underneath it. The only drawback of this space is that it is carpeted.

I actually like carpet. Even with children. It's comfortable, homey, softens the sound of toys clattering about, and keeps me from having to sweep 14 times a day. So carpet is good. Except in rooms dedicated to food. That, I don't like. I have a five-year-old and a one-year-old who is particularly prone to throwing and dropping food. For the first few months, I vacuumed and hand-picked food up off the floor after each meal. Our carpet cleaner made an appearance several times.

I searched online to try and find a suitable floor covering. I couldn't just replace the carpet with hard flooring because this is a rental home. I didn't like the many suggestions to use a blanket, tarp, tablecloth, or thick plastic sheet underneath the baby's highchair. Those things would bunch up and just get obnoxious to work around and wash or wipe down each time. I had a big rug I could use, and that would save the carpet underneath. But the rug itself would get nasty unless I got on my hands and knees all the time to get stuff out of the fibers and then pull the carpet cleaner out...so that wasn't much better than what I was already doing. I considered one of those plastic mats used under wheeled office chairs. I remember that my family used one of those under my sister's highchair long ago. But I couldn't find one in the right size or shape (and they were getting pricey). I wanted something to go under the whole table and all the pulled-out chairs. My baby's highchair isn't really a highchair. It's a booster seat and tray that's strapped onto one of the chairs at the table. Plus, she's not exactly the only one who spills. I wanted good coverage for everyone. I initially wanted a bamboo rug, which would look the nicest, but those are rather expensive, especially in the size I wanted it. Plus, I was worried that, although you can wipe bamboo rugs clean, things would get lodged between the slats. Sigh. So I didn't know what a good solution would be.

Then, one day, we were shopping in our local home improvement store. I walked by the flooring section of the store and noticed that there were some laminate flooring on clearance. The flooring was sold in packages of slats that you could sort of snap together. Maybe this would work! We purchased two packages (and later a third) and started working on it. It took both my husband and I quite a bit of adjusting and pushing before it all clicked together and looked right. We just put it right on top of the carpet, with nothing in between. It does slide on the carpet a tiny bit over the course of a month or so, but that's not a big deal to me. For a while, we were debating whether or not it looked ghetto, but finally decided that it looked fine, and it was the best option for us. I like it. Now, I can sweep it and mop it just like a kitchen floor. Once, one of the girls spilled some water and I didn't realize it for a couple hours. After I cleaned it up, the edge of one of the boards puckered up a bit. You can see it in the picture, but that's mostly because of the angle of the camera. When you're standing up, it's really not that noticeable. I can't remember exactly how much it cost, but I believe it was $40-$50 for the whole thing. Totally worth it. And it doubles as a dance floor. Well, I haven't done it yet, but I plan on moving the table and chairs and using the thing as a dance floor sometime.

Milk: One of My Greatest Accomplishments

This is a picture of 116 breastmilk bottles. (They are used to hook up to breast pumps to collect milk.) I took the picture when I was preparing to move and was packing away some baby feeding supplies.

My baby is almost 2 years old, and I can hardly believe it. As I approach the second anniversary of her birth, I also approach the one-year anniversary of completing one of my biggest accomplishments. I pumped breastmilk for one year. Lots of women nurse, or pump milk, for their babies, and lots of women do it for a year or longer. Even now, I sometimes look back and think, "Why did I think that was such a big accomplishment?" But it was a huge accomplishment for me. At the time I finished it, I remember being so happy and relieved and proud. I remember thinking that how I felt was comparable to how I felt when I graduated college.

While I was pregnant with my first daughter, I had a goal: breastfeed for at least one year. However, breastfeeding was very challenging for both of us. By the time she was four months old, she refused it all together. With my second daughter, I had the same goal. This time I was aware that I'd have to be flexible, in case she, or I, had a tough time breastfeeding, too. But the goal was still there, because it was the ideal.

I was so happy when my baby started breastfeeding within an hour of her birth. She latched right on and seemed to have no problem with it. I was still afraid that I would struggle and feel tied down with breastfeeding, but I was hopeful that this time would be better because the baby seemed to have an easier grasp of the concept. So for the next day and a half, I kept breastfeeding, and she ate with minimal guidance. And then we noticed something that was concerning, and she ended up being sent to another hospital for further testing. She was admitted to the NICU, where they gave me some supplies and instructed me to pump and store my breastmilk. Because of the testing, she couldn't take milk for a few days, and I needed to keep up pumping so I wouldn't lose my supply. By the time the initial testing was completed (which turned out normal), a different serious lifelong medical condition was discovered, and she remained in the NICU for three weeks. At first, doctors told me that because of her medical condition, she may not be able to tolerate breastmilk very well. So they started her on formula. I continued pumping with the hopes that she could get to a point where she could start taking it.

Each day, her blood work showed abnormal levels. There were certain levels that were much higher than normal. With each passing day, her feedings increased, and so did those levels. The doctors said they hoped her levels would eventually stabilize as her body got more adjusted to being outside the womb. But I was scared. One day I did the math, and figured out that if her levels kept going up at the rate they were, her health would be in critical condition within a week. This whole time, I continued pumping milk (every three hours around the clock) and praying that my milk would be the "magic" solution her body needed to improve. I still didn't know if her body would tolerate it, but one afternoon, I asked one of her doctors if she could just try the breastmilk. The doctor immediately got on the phone with her other doctor, and together they decided that she could try my milk. The next morning's blood work didn't show improvement, but the next day, after a full day of my baby consuming only breastmilk, her levels started dropping. They continued dropping until they were much closer to normal. Perhaps it was, at least in part, because her body was adjusting more to life outside the womb, but to me, that was just too coincidental. My milk really seemed to be the "magic" solution she needed. I continued pumping. By the time she left the hospital, she was on breastmilk with a bit of special formula mixed in to help her gain weight. Because she needed that extra formula mixed in, and because there was a possibility I would need to add special medication in the milk later on, I decided to continue pumping milk (instead of having her nurse directly). Within a couple months, there were four things I had to add to the milk. Her levels improved some more.

While she was in the hospital, I made a goal to pump milk for my baby for at least one year. And I did it. I started off pumping for 15 minutes, 7-8 times a day, and I eventually was able to pump for 30 minutes, 4 times a day. After each pumping, I had to wash the 8 pieces of pumping equipment. Each day we (my husband and/or I) emptied 8-10 breastmilk bottles (a day's worth of milk) into a container with the other four things she needed. We washed those 8-10 bottles and lids each day. The whole process of pumping was time-consuming. Everything took careful planning. There were times we wanted to just take off and go somewhere, but first we had to wait half an hour while I pumped. If I was going to be out during a pumping time, or longer than a few hours, I had to bring a portable pump, bottles, and a cooler, and figure out where and when I was going to pump. I also brought a cooler with prepared bottles for my baby wherever I went. She wouldn't drink cold milk, so I always tried to find some hot water to warm the bottle up in.

I had a lot of milk available, as I produced a lot of it, and there were days at the beginning when I pumped, despite her taking very little or no milk at all. When my baby was in the NICU, literally half of my freezer was filled with milk, plus the hospital had milk in their freezer. It's hard to believe, but there was a time when all 116 bottles pictured above were being used. And I am so grateful, because there were times later on when I struggled with my milk supply. I was able to feed my baby the milk I had pumped earlier.

This may seem self-applauding, and well, it is. People announce their music, sports, academic, and professional accomplishments. They have graduation parties and promotion celebrations. This is no different. This was a very hard thing that I worked at every day for a year of my life. I never would have guessed that "Pumped Breastmilk for One Year" would be on my list of great life accomplishments, but it is. Like I said, I know lots of women provide breastmilk for their baby, and many do it for a year or longer. It is challenging whether you nurse or pump. I think all women who accomplish this should get a party. A Post-Breastfeeding Shower. The gifts could consist of new bras, shirts, and purses (to replace the worn-out diaper bag). Perhaps a gift card for a date night when the mother can feel free and be out of the house for more than a couple hours at a time. The food can include salad, spicy snacks, chocolate, and anything else the nursing mother may have had to avoid. I'm not suggesting that everyone should shower me with gifts. (I'm just happy that my baby is doing so well, and I like to think at least part of it is because of all the breastmilk she had.) I'm just saying, Post-Breastfeeding Showers should totally be a thing. There are so many hard, sad things in life. We could use more celebrations. :)

A Different Perspective of Sex

Turn on the radio or TV. Leave your house and go to the store. You'll see that this world we live in is almost saturated with sex. It is seen almost everywhere you look, be it subtle or obvious. It is one of the reasons it's scary to raise children in this world. It's an uncomfortable topic for me, and I don't really like talking about it because sex is personal and sacred, and it is often misused and abused. But I had an experience a while ago that put things into perspective for me, and I want to share that.

I believe that sex is sacred and should be saved for marriage. I believe that the purpose of sex is for the benefit of the relationship of the married couple, and for having children. This is a very different belief from what is considered "normal". When you look around you, you may find that sex is displayed as being only for fun, pleasure, and excitement; something light-hearted; something you can throw around and pass from one person to another. Even with my strong beliefs, it is sometimes hard to remember that sex is sacred and serious when I am confronted with this other view so much.

When my first child was born, she was in the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) for one week. Nearly two years ago, my younger daughter made her entrance into this world and spent three weeks in the NICU. It was a large one, with space available for nearly 100 babies. While she was receiving care there, my husband and I spoke with many doctors, nurses, and specialists. One day, one of the doctors was telling us how she was doing, and the doctor said something like, "One thing that makes me hopeful is that she has you guys. She has a good support system." At the time, this was of little comfort to me, as I thought that that was just something they told everyone to try to make them feel better. But I was wrong. That isn't something they could tell everyone. When you're in the NICU, you hear a lot. The babies are situated quite close together to ensure a close eye is being kept on all of them. Also, the waiting room outside of the NICU was small. It was easy to hear of others' situations. I heard about babies of single parents. One new mother was telling someone that her baby's father was unaware of the baby's existence, and that she did not want him to know. It was a bad situation. I have respect for single parents. I know they love their children and they work really hard. I know there are a lot of messy situations you can't foresee. On occasion, harsh realities make it so that a child is better off away from his or her biological mother, father, or both. But that doesn't change the fact that all children deserve to have a mom and a dad, and a good support system.

I remember thinking about this in the NICU one day, when it hit me: This place was a huge deal. There were so many doctors and nurses and hospital workers working around the clock, every single day of the year. There is an unthinkable amount of energy, money, resources, supplies, work, knowledge, prayers, tears, and hope, all put forth in an effort to help, heal, and sustain the lives of our sweet babies. And how did these babies come to be? *Sex. Sex isn't usually something you're thinking about when you visit your sick baby in the midst of many other sick babies. But sex is what made those babies happen. What hit me was how very serious the concept of sex was in that moment (and should always be), and how one's view of sex is so far from the world's view of sex when you have a baby. When a man and a woman have sex, it should be understood that a baby could come from it. Bringing a child into this world, and raising that child, is very serious. Some babies may come to this world healthier than others, but no person is uncomplicated and easy to raise. We are all complex. Every person needs the best support system possible. When people have a casual attitude about sex, and a baby comes from that sex, it's less likely that that baby is going to have as good of a support system as he or she needs and deserves. I know a lot of people would say they aren't going to conceive a baby because of birth control, infertility, or other reasons. But the fact that sex can bring another human being into the world shows how serious and powerful it is, and that you should treat it with care, whether it produces a baby or not.

Whenever I feel bombarded by flippant attitudes about sex, I try to remember how I felt that day in the NICU. I try to think about all the babies. And the people in this world. And I remember that even if people don't treat it how they should, sex is sacred.**


*Some children are brought to this world via artificial insemination, which isn't typically considered sex, but should also be treated with careful consideration of both parents and child. 
**Sacred usually refers to a religious, divine meaning, but it also signifies reverence and respect in general. 

We Need Each Other: The Plastic Bag Analogy

My day-to-day life is full of mundane tasks. The tasks are usually quite boring, but sometimes I receive special insight as I am carrying out these responsibilities.

Some time ago, I was cleaning out the fridge. This is one of my least-favorite chores, and something I do not consider inspiring. Yet, this particular time was different.

When I clean out the fridge, there is usually at least a little bit of rotten food to be disposed of. I put the bad food in plastic grocery bags, which I tie up before I put it in the garbage can. Many of the grocery bags have small holes at the bottom, so I double up the bags so that the rotten food inside does not leak. If I don't see any holes in the bag, I double it up anyway. Doubling the bags also provides extra protection in case something tears or pokes the bag. There may also be unseen holes in the inner bag, and even if there aren't any, the bag alone may not be strong enough to hold its load without breaking. Even if the outer bag has holes, it can help support the inner bag.

(This is a much more detailed description of my cleaning-out-the-fridge technique than I ever thought I'd give. But the description is necessary to make sense of the insight I gained from it.)

And now the inspiration: I suddenly realized that people are like these plastic grocery bags. Sound weird? I know. But hear me out.

We all have burdens we carry (much like the plastic grocery bags). Burdens that are undesirable. Depression, pain, heartache, sickness, loss, betrayal, frustration, fear, loneliness, and hopelessness are all burdens that feel downright awful. They're burdens that we all have or will have at some point. Many people have visible holes, or weaknesses. Others appear to be strong and have their lives all together, but are actually stretched thin and feeling very weak and vulnerable inside.

It is important to provide help and support to one another. Be there for others, whether it appears they need help or not. Help them carry their burdens so they don't break (body and/or spirit). If we are always supporting each other, we are stronger when something tears or pokes us, threatening to break us. Don't be afraid to ask for help when your burden seems so heavy, and don't be afraid to jump in and help another. Even a person with a lot of weaknesses can support and strengthen another. Two people, each with their own inevitable weaknesses, together can carry more than two people individually.

The Barbie Hype

I've heard some things in the past from those who oppose Barbie dolls. They don't like them because they think that Barbie is an impossible ideal of beauty that is ruining the self-esteem of girls around the world. Now there is a new doll, the Lammily. It is similar to a Barbie doll, but it's supposed to represent the looks and proportions of the "average" woman.

I know many disagree, but I think people have gotten carried away with this Barbie hype. I played with Barbie dolls a lot growing up. I loved Barbie. I owned many dolls and Barbie accessories. However, I never felt insecure about myself or my looks because of the way my Barbie dolls looked. I always knew that Barbie was a toy. I knew that no one had the looks or proportions of Barbie because she is a fake character. She isn't totally realistic, and she didn't have to be. When I played, and when most kids play, we're in a fantasy world. It's nice to play with characters you can relate to, but they don't have to be lifelike.

I don't think the creation of these new dolls are going to solve all the problems some people think they are. If someone wants to create a new doll, that's fine. But, as I've heard before, there is a problem with the premises of this particular doll. The creator claims to have formed the new dolls based on scientific studies of what the "average" woman looks like. Yes, the doll is more realistic-looking than Barbie, but if people really think Barbie caused bad feelings and insecurities, this new doll will cause problems, too. To my knowledge, the creators of Barbie never claimed Barbie was supposed to have realistic proportions. Now we have the Lammily, which is supposed to represent the average woman. What if the girls who play with them don't think they look as good as this doll? Wouldn't they feel bad if they think they can't measure up to "average"? If self-image is really based on a doll, the Lammily isn't going to do much better than Barbie. 

If people want to help girls' self-image, perhaps they can put their energy towards changing the way women are portrayed in magazines and television. Those women are altered and air-brushed and tucked and pinned and then presented as if that's the way they normally look with minimal effort. They are actual human beings, whose images are altered and then presented as realistic bodies. That bothers me a lot more than how Barbie dolls look.

A better way to help girls' self-esteem is to focus on the accomplishments and amazing things women do. Talk about the amazing works of all women-women of all shapes, sizes, proportions, and colors. Talk about people in terms of the good things they can accomplish, instead of focusing on what they look like. So go ahead- make dolls and toys of all proportions and designs. Buy the ones you like. Let children know that most toys aren't totally realistic. Then let them play and use their imaginations.

The Problem with "You think it's hard now? Just wait...."

I recently heard a woman talk about her struggles as a mother of several teenagers. She said that having teenagers is so hard for her. She said that having several kids ages five and under-that was easy.

As a mother of two children ages five and under, there are few things more discouraging than being told that this very hard time I'm going through is "easy". I mean, really? Was it really easy? At that time, when she was going through it, was it easy? Surely she's forgotten the hard parts, right? And if not, if having teenagers is really so much harder than having small children to the point that being a mother of small children is "easy" in comparison, well, that just makes me want to sob in a corner and give up. Don't get me wrong. I chose this life. I love my children, and I love being their mother. I wouldn't have it any other way. I am sure the woman I mentioned feels the same about her children. But raising children of any age is hard, and all parents need support and encouragement, not fear and hopelessness. 

This is an example of something I've noticed a lot in the past few years. People like to point out how much worse or harder life is going to get. I remember it happening from a young age. In elementary school, I was told how middle school is so much harder. In high school, I was told that those were the best days of my life and that someday I would be begging to go back. In college, I remember being told, "You think you're stressed and busy now? Just wait. It gets worse." When I was pregnant and not sleeping well because of discomfort and waking frequently to use the bathroom? Just wait 'til the baby's born, then you'll know sleep deprivation. When I had my first baby? Oh, how nice that you can sleep when the baby sleeps because there's no other child to keep you up. And now, with two small children? Just wait 'til they're moody teenagers. Having a hard day wresting my tantrum-throwing toddler and taking care of a sick baby? Enjoy it now, because they'll be grown up and moved out before you know it. 

Really, the list is endless. I've heard so many things along those lines. I've even caught myself doing this from time to time. I remember when my sister was telling me how nice it will be when she's out of college and will have the steady income of a full-time job. I snapped back with something like, "Oh, it doesn't get any better! You'll get a steady income, but then you'll get so many more bills!" I think I was reacting to my own personal experiences at the moment. I realized my mistake immediately, apologized, and said that yes, it is nice to have a steady, full-time income, even if I do have more bills to pay now.

Maybe people are reacting with their emotions and personal experiences (like I did) when they say or imply, "Just wait...It gets worse." Maybe they think they're being helpful, preparing others for the future. Maybe they think it helps people put their current situations into perspective and be grateful it isn't worse (yet). But in reality, it isn't helpful at all. It is very discouraging. Some forewarning may be helpful in some cases. But in general, telling someone, "Just wait [for something harder]," is disheartening. It makes the recipient of such "advice" feel stupid, weak, and childish. I've found that this "advice" is often inaccurate, as well. People tend to have a selective memory. When we have a hard time, we like to remember back in the good ol' days when certain things were better or easier. In reality, just about all phases of life are filled with both good and bad.

People also don't take into account the growth and wisdom that comes from time and experience. I know having teenagers is hard; I have no delusions about that. But that doesn't mean having small children is easy, and it doesn't mean you have to rub it in someone's face even if you believe it is. It's not really fair to do that to people. We don't approach 2nd-graders struggling with math and tell them, "Just wait. This is nothing. College is so much harder. The classes are insane. You'll always be tired and stressed and you never really finish homework because there's so much of it to do." Of course we don't tell them that because, even though college is hard, we don't want to overwhelm them when they still have a lot of learning and growth to go through before they get to that level. Having teenagers is hard, yes, but first let me figure out how to take care of a newborn, then a toddler, then a preschooler, and so on. Don't burden me with "life just gets harder" when I'm already at my wits' end.

People need to feel validated. We need to know there are others who understand our struggles. We need people who can point out the good things but also sympathize and encourage and strengthen when life is hard. Let's have less discouragement and more compassion!

Motherhood and Fulfillment

Today I read this article. It made me think about how I feel about the subject. It's something I've actually been struggling with for quite some time.   

I have wanted to be a mom for as long as I can remember. When I was younger, I couldn't wait to get married, have a home of my own, and have littles of my own. It was a dream of mine, and I felt that was what I was made for. Now I have a home of my own, a husband I love, and two daughters I adore. There are a lot of pressures in our society and our cultures surrounding motherhood. There is a "supermom" expectation, a mom who can "do it all" with a smile on her face.

I discovered some things about myself when I became a mother, that goes against the "supermom" ideal. I dislike reading about 95% of children's books. I do not like to plan, prepare, and cook meals. If I home-schooled my children, I think we would all pull our hair out. I have a surprisingly low tolerance for participating in children's songs, games, movies, and TV shows. I love my family, so I still do all those things, albeit less often than others. I just wish I enjoyed those activities more. But my girls and I like to listen to music on the radio and have dance parties. I like to make bows and little-girl dresses, and we all like crafts. I may not like cooking, but we like to eat yummy things together. We like going to the zoo. I'm content with all the "supermom" qualities I do or don't have. I know moms don't have to meet some impossible societal ideal to be a good mom.

I have always heard so many people say that motherhood is the best and most fulfilling thing you can ever do. I've heard it from religious leaders, and I've heard many friends talk about how absolutely fulfilled they feel as a mother. Well, here's my confession: I don't feel fulfilled. I have agonized over this. I feel like a terrible mom and a terrible person that I don't feel fulfilled in what is said to be the greatest, most noble thing I can possibly do in my life. I know being a mom is very important. I know raising my children to be good, righteous, productive, happy people is the most important thing I can be doing right now. (I'm not saying this is what everyone should be doing right now; just speaking for myself, in my own life situation.) I love my children so much and worry about them so much, my heart aches. I love being their mom. I am able to stay home with my children, and I feel that it is best for my family right now for me to do so. My feelings have nothing to do with how other people feel about mothers, or how they feel about mothers staying at home with their children. I have not really been able to figure out why I feel like this.

When I read the article mentioned above, it occurred to me that maybe it's not motherhood I am feeling unfulfilled with, maybe it's my life right now as a whole. Maybe there is something in addition to mothering that I can, or should, be doing right now. Maybe it's ok to develop myself in other ways. There are more things I want to learn. I like to write. I love art, and I'd like to learn to paint. I'd like to learn to cut hair and maybe develop some woodworking skills. I think I'd like Zumba. I'd love to learn to dance more. I'd like to learn some of these things with my husband. There are many other things I'd like to learn and do in my life. I know some people may say that now is not the time or season for me to do anything except be a wife and mom. But I disagree. True, I will not be able to completely focus on other things (outside of my family) at this time in my life. I can, but I just wouldn't. Wifehood and Motherhood is top priority right now, and it takes up the vast majority of my time. Some people have large families and/or truly love cooking meals, reading stories, teaching math and reading, keeping a clean house, and singing Disney songs every day at the top of their lungs with their children. So literally all their time and thoughts and energy go into those things. I applaud those people. Your service is admirable and tremendous. I used to think I'd be one of you. A lot of times, I wish I was. But I am who I am, and I'm learning to evolve and become a better version of myself. And maybe that means developing myself in ways that have nothing to do with my children. But I suspect that when I do, it will make me a better person, a better and happier mom, and I may share some of the things I learn with my children. I may even be able to use some of those things in the service of my children.

My Hard-of-Hearing Life

I am hard-of-hearing. I have a moderate-to-severe hearing loss in both ears. In one ear, certain pitches have to be as loud as a freight train for me to hear it as well as most people do. I wear hearing aids and I generally get along well. I am blessed with parents who handled my disability quite well. They did everything they could to ensure I lived a happy life and had the opportunities that I needed. As a child, I felt normal. I would see someone with serious physical difficulties and think something like, "I'm so grateful I don't have any physical challenges," and then would realize, "Wait...I do...I'm short." Yes, it's pathetic that I would consider a mild height abnormality to be a true physical challenge. But that just goes to show how I thought of my disability. I felt normal enough to forget I had it at times. But it affected my life a lot. It still does. My parents taught me to stand up for myself and to be able to function with this disability in the real world. Because as much as we'd like to think that society, the government, and technology can fix everything and make everything fair, they can't.

Some people are surprised when they find out I'm hard-of-hearing. And I admit I take a little pride in that surprise. I like to think that I've overcome this trial, at least in reference to how I function and live my life. But in truth, it's hard.

There are a lot of consequences of hearing impairment. The most obvious is that I can't hear as well as other people. I have to ask people to repeat what they say. Sometimes I have to ask so much, it gets embarrassing, and everyone gets frustrated, so I just smile and nod.

Hearing impairment is a mostly invisible disability. Even with hearing aids in your ears, people can't always tell that you're hard-of-hearing. When I was in college, I walked to my classes. Every so often, someone on a bike would whiz past me, missing me by inches, then look back and glare at me. I never understood that until one day, my roommate was walking with me and told me that those cyclists (illegally riding on the sidewalks, by the way) would shout out a warning and expect the people in front of them to move out of their way. I never heard those warnings. I am afraid there are other times when people might think I am being rude by "ignoring" them, when I actually can't hear them.

Hearing aids help, but they don't make hearing perfect. Hearing aids don't filter out unwanted noise as well as natural hearing can. When I am in a noisy room, it's like there are microphones placed throughout the room, and all of those microphones are fed into my hearing aids. I can't hear what people are saying across the room; everything just comes in as noise. So even though proximity makes the people right by me slightly easier to hear than others in the room, there is so much noise coming in, it makes it very difficult to hear and figure out what they are saying. The microphone metaphor isn't perfect, but it's the best thing I can come up with to explain how I can't block out, or ignore, background noise very well. For more about what hearing aids are like, read a previous post: http://ashbelle.blogspot.com/2010/01/ears.html

Many people with hearing loss learn to lipread. I taught myself to lipread at a young age, and I still partially rely on it. A lot of people cover their mouth or turn away when they're speaking to you. A fellow hard-of-hearing (former) classmate of mine once told me her own story with lipreading: She was walking beside someone who was talking to her. She had her head turned, lipreading as she was walking. Because of this, she didn't see where she was going and walked right into a pole. She wanted to explain that she wasn't ditzy; she walked into a pole because she was hard-of-hearing. But that doesn't make sense to people. And here's another issue with lipreading: you're watching someone's mouth. That looks weird. When I was a teenager, I loved going to church dances. Most guys I danced with wanted to talk, and because the music was loud, I heavily depended on lipreading. I was always self-conscious of what this looked like. I'm dancing with a guy and watching his mouth. He might think he had something stuck in his teeth. I was more nervous that he thought I wanted to kiss him or something. Fortunately, if anyone ever thought that, they never tried anything.

Hearing loss makes for some other awkward social experiences. When I was younger, a guy came up to me and asked me, "How are you?" Well, it was loud in the room, and I thought he asked, 'How old are you?', and so I answered, "Fifteen." It was only after he gave me a strange look and walked away that I realized what he really said, and being fifteen, I was embarrassed.

While I was growing up, I was quiet and shy, at least at school. My hearing loss didn't help. I desperately wanted to comment in conversations, but I missed so much of it. I was afraid I would say something someone already said, and afraid I misheard something. I couldn't exactly say, "Ok, all ten of you at this lunch table: can everyone talk louder? Because I can't hear." I didn't want so many people to bend over backwards for me, and even if they did, they'd be yelling their personal conversations. Sometimes I would just tune out a conversation altogether because I had to strain to hear what people said, and that gets exhausting after a while.

On a lighter side, my ears hear some pretty funny things. For example, when my husband and I were new to an area, we didn't know people's names yet, so we used descriptions instead. In one instance, my husband referred to a man as "the one with the slicked-back hair." I heard "the one with the slick back-hair." Yikes.

Many of these kinds of things happen to everyone from time to time. But for the hard-of-hearing, it happens all the time. However, I realize I am very blessed. It could be worse, and it is worse for many people. Hearing aids help me tremendously. I live in a time when, although things aren't perfect, people are much more accepting and accommodating of this disability. (It really wasn't that long ago when terrible things were done in an attempt to "make" the hard-of-hearing hear better.) I was able to learn to play the flute in school, and I still enjoy doing so. I got a good education. I have used my experiences with this disability in ways I never imagined I would.

Let's be more aware and understanding! I hope that we can all try to be more compassionate with each other, disability or no disability. We're all struggling with something, and it is often something invisible. I hope that I, and everyone, can be kinder and less quick to judge.