Showing posts with label I'm a momma. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I'm a momma. Show all posts

Friday, December 18, 2015

What to do with those family photos

A while back, we had a lovely and talented local photographer take our family photos.

Our little family is in such a fun phase, and our photographer was absolutely excellent.  She was fun, patient, and great with the kids.  We are so thankful that she captured these images of our family just being us.    

A few of my favorites?


The location was one I've admired for a while, and it was absolutely hopping with other photographers, families and young couples.  



There was even one group having the entire extended family photographed, including maybe ten adults and a dozen children.  It was quite the production!



Poor Olivia was having a terrible day.  She was breaking four teeth, running a fever, snotty and miserable. She wouldn't let me put her down, and even then she refused to be comforted.  Well, let me just show you:



There it is!  That's the face we saw the most of.  Assuming she wasn't wailing, that is. 



There was plenty of that, too.  


Oh well.  Every party has a pooper.  For us, it's usually Livvy!

She captured some great images of the kids on their own.



This photo is so true to my big girl!  Sweet and sassy all wrapped up in one package.  I can't believe how big this one is getting. 



And this one, too.  He's quite the grown up little man!





There were some sweet ones of the kids together. 











I am so grateful to have these images of the silliness, seriousness and personality of our family right now.



When we got the images back, there was one that stood out obviously as "the one."  It was begging to be framed, and I knew just how I was going to display it.



Remember this sign I made to hang above Logan's crib?  I loved that darn thing.  I loved making it, I loved the way it looked in his nursery.  But, when the nursery's new occupant moved in, I didn't have much use for it and it was relocated to the basement.  Until now!



Boom!  Casey touched up the paint and added some small molding that I had stained to frame out the photo.  Thanks to the lovely services of the good folks at Costco, we had it enlarged as a 20x30 and printed.  I love the way it turned out!

The best part is that it fills out this big space in the living room that has been open and empty for quite some time.  It's going to look really great once we get those baseboards finished (*cough, cough* Casey!).  




I'm so happy that we have these images to cherish!

Sunday, December 6, 2015

Parade of Lights 2015

Is it really December?

The tree is set up.  The house is decorated.  I kept my yearly tradition of breaking my word to my husband and listening to Christmas music way before Thanksgiving (sorry Casey.  It could get better.)

But it still seems amazing to me that we've entered the very last month of 2015!

We embarked on one of our very favorite Christmas traditions, and we had an extra surprise for the kids this year.



Ice skating!

This little rink was set up smack-dab in the middle of downtown Denver, and it is an adorable and nostalgic addition.  So Christmas-y!

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Leah has been begging to go ice skating again since her birthday, so we took some time in the afternoon before the parade to make that happen. 



We initially had Logan out on the ice, too. 



It lasted all of about two laps.  Ice skating was not his favorite.

The whole endeavor actually only took about 8 minutes from start to finish.  Leah had a great time, until she fell a few minutes in and that was the end of that.  


After our adventures on the ice, we went to Maggiano's for dinner.  



I love that they have everything all done up for the holidays.  The decor, the music, obviously the food (yum!), it is always such a great experience at this time of the year. 

The kids were such hams!



I guess it was a long day, but they were definitely a bit nutty.  Not loud or obnoxious, just silly.  Very, very giddy and silly.


They made each other laugh and amused themselves while we waited for the food by making funny faces.





I love those faces!  And, try as we might, Olivia always seems to have a knife.  Don't ask me why... and don't be surprised if you see her on the news 25 years from now, because it is always the thing she goes for if we go out to dinner.  Somehow, despite the fact that they all get cleared out of her reach, that child can use the force or telepathy or her secret go-go-Gadget arms to obtain even the most remote knife on the table.

We were fortunate that the weather was awesome.  I think that's the second year in a row.  It was cold, but festively so.  The kind that is crisp and clear, but nobody loses any body parts.



By the way, how do you like Logan's rockin' hot cocoa Fu Manchu?  Pretty stylin.



They were so excited!  And so silly!

They did settle down, and had an awesome time at the parade, as we always do.  My kids just adore watching all the different elements as they go by: floats, marching bands, balloons, dancers and everything in between.  They sing along with the music, cheer and encourage the marchers and shout thank yous to the police and fire men and women.  It's so much fun.  

And they lose their minds - Buddy the Elf style - when Santa comes along.  


For the record: I have no idea where they get that.  

It was a wonderful day.  I always feel so blessed to share this season with the ones I love most of all!

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Labor hopes & wishes

I know, I know.  Labor does its own thing.

Believe me, I learned last time: there's not much you can control if your body refuses do what it's supposed to do, unlike some people I envy know.

But we also learned a lot that I hope will be positive in helping me reach a different outcome.  A lot of the proverbial what not to do's.

So, in no particular order, here are a few of the things I'm keeping all my fingers and toes crossed for on D day:

1. My water doesn't break before labor starts.  Because, though I'm pretty much resolved to ignore the doc's advice to come into the hospital right away, there's immediately a ticking clock on labor if that happens.  I'll only have so much time to get it going and get it going strong before I do have to go to the hospital, which means that I'll be subjected to all the monitoring and checking that comes along with it.  All of which may effectively shut down any labor progress I've made.

11 p.m., just a couple of hours before leaving for the hospital.  If only I'd known what was in store.  I SO wouldn't have been smiling.

2. To be well rested beforehand.  If last time is any indication, my labor is a marathon and not a sprint.  Maybe that's not even the comparison - I'm a little closer to the Tour de France.  Sure, I may shave a few hours off of the 24 it took to git 'er done last time, but I'm pretty sure I can be a whole lot more effective in the birthing process if I haven't been awake for like 40 hours in a row.

Ahhh... 3 a.m.  Seriously, quit smiling, kid.  You have no idea.

3. That I can move around.  A lot.  This is one I definitely learned my lesson on last time through.  Sure, we walked.  I bounced and bounced and bounced on the birthing ball.  I tried to move and change position.  But because I'd already been up for nearly 24 hours and it was 2 a.m. before I even arrived at the hospital and I wasn't progressing very quickly, I also rested.  Maybe more than I should have.  It was a delicate balance between moving to help labor progress and trying to save my energy - a balance I'm hoping I can do a better job of achieving this time through.  Not to mention, without being tethered to a gazillionty wires (all of which definitely hinders the entire process).

6:00 p.m. and we're finally getting somewhere.

4. That I can eat during labor.  Again, if I'm in the hospital because my water has broken, this is a no-go (though... I'm pretty sure this is another rule I may flirt with breaking).  Remember that marathon comparison?  Nobody does that without being properly fueled.  There's lots of good research that cites the importance of eating during labor, and the ways it can contribute to positive outcomes for mommies.  I'm so getting on that train.

5. That gravity will be my ally.  At the end... after 23 hours and a whole ton of stuff had been done to me, I still had to push for over an hour.  And, like an idiot, I chose to do it on my back in bed (largely, probably because I couldn't feel a lot of what I should have been able to feel because of all the trial and error issues with the epidural.  Ideally, that won't be the case this time because there won't be an epidural).  Yeah, let's not make that mistake again!  NO VACUUM!  NO VACUUM!  Poor, poor little Logan.  No vacuum is up there at the top of the list of things I hope I can rectify this time around.

This moment.  Breathless.  Tears.  So worth every second of pain, before and after.
 I've been doing a lot of research on what is and isn't part of "evidence based care" as opposed to the "cover your A" care often enacted in hospitals due to insurance or legislative restrictions.  It has been extremely eye-opening, and maybe more than a little worrisome.

For example:

Evidence-based care for you means freedom of movement, freedom to eat and drink as you like, intermittent auscultation to monitor your baby’s heart rate during labor, one-to-one continuous support by someone who is educated in childbirth, water immersion for pain management, privacy so you can focus, no vaginal exams during labor unless there is a specific reason for it or you want to know your dilation, and freedom to push in whatever position feels comfortable to you.  It includes interventions when medically necessary and not before.

Contrasted with what we typically (and I, certainly - pretty much exactly this) experience in hospitals:
...Strapped into bed with belts for continuous monitoring of your baby (this kind of monitoring has an over 99% false positive rate), no food or drink allowed (they might give you ice chips), no one-to-one support, maybe a tub for water immersion, but you can’t get in if you’re on monitoring belts, an automatic IV into your hand that hurts and makes it hard to move, lots of interruptions by people wanting to give you vaginal exams (that serve absolutely no medical purpose, but increase your odds of infection down there), and constant pressure to “hurry things along” with medication or “give you a break” with an epidural.  It’s unlikely that anyone will tell you the significant risks of medications that speed things up (Pitocin causes fetal distress, which is a #2 cause of C-sections) or the downsides of an epidural (primarily, that you won’t be able to move around to get baby positioned better, which makes it much harder for him or her to descend through the birth canal and can result in a need for episiotomy/forceps or vacuum or even surgery!). (via)

Most of all, though, the thing I hope and wish for at the end of the day is a happy, healthy baby



I'd like to be happy and healthy, too if we can swing it. 

So although I've said all these things, my number one concern is going to be for the baby, and all other decisions will be made out of that very important perspective.  All the rest of these are just ideas to help me even up the odds a little in the face of what will probably be a difficult day.  I'm not heeding my own advice from two years ago and electing for a c-section, so fingers crossed that one doesn't come back to haunt me.  

And, I now know enough to know that if I'm just not progressing, it's okay to do the epidural and then pitocin - in that and only that order.  


I'm kinda, sorta ridiculously excited.

Friday, June 6, 2014

Me and Amy, we sound the same.

I would like to hereby proclaim my undying love for Amy Poehler.  Because I think we can all agree, she's completely hilarious.  So many amazing SNL moments.  The best Hillary Clinton impersonations (one of my all time favorite skits and the absolute only good thing to come out of election year dramas.  Two funny, funny ladies).

Here's the problem, though: it's day one (seriously?  It's only day one?!) of a two week single mom stint and already I sound waaaay too much like Amy.  

And not the nice, conversational, complementary side.  

I'm a little more intense.  A little more "HOW DO YOU MISS A PASS LIKE THAT?!"   

Because, I love my little stinkers.  More than life itself.  This Mom gig is my most important job, and all those sappy, inspirational quotes that have those with kids and without kids debating whether motherhood really is the hardest and most noble job in the universe... they totally get me.  Sentimental and sappy though they may be, there is no question which side of that debate I fall out on.

I also feel a very strong sense of obligation to teach them right from wrong, proper manners, good citizenship, character, patience, gratitude, humor, joy, about good books and belly laughs, empathy, the beauty inherent in hard work, kindness, self-reliance, humility, prayer, how to fall in love with themselves, appreciate what they bring to the table and all those other things that will be so necessary as the real world seeps in to beat them down.  And more often than not, I hope very dearly to confer these mighty life lessons, not with words or lectures but by living them out.  By being my very best me, flaws and mistakes and imperfections and stretch marks and all, and letting the wisdom and the lessons that are learned in those ordinary, everyday moments flow out of me and into them.  Not because I've taught them anything, but because they've come along with me and watched me learn.  Watched me grow.  Watched me fail.  Watched me try.

But I have a secret to tell you: there are days.  Like, well, today. 

Days that begin with milk and cereal spilled because, in some miraculous role reversal, the one year old has much more control of his body and choices at meal time than the four year old.  Days where it took us literally an hour to get our sad selves out of the house.  Days where, despite the conversations about how important it is to rest her body and staythefrickinbed, there are fairy wings and dress up clothes strewn about her room and her motto is nap?  We don't need no stinking nap! which would all be fine if only she could be a reasonable, rational, somewhat decent human being until 7:30 p.m. without a nap.  Days that end with me nixing a bath and giving the go-ahead for tiny humans to run around in public looking rather like that dirt-cloud kid from Charlie Brown because, as Twisted Sister once said: we're not gonna take it anymore!  And by we, I very fervently mean me.  

Hello, my name is Melissa.  And I can't take it anymore. 

Which is bad, mostly on account of the fact that there's no relief pitcher in my house for the next two weeks, it's just me.  And all those life lessons I'm working to pass on through my Super Mommy Behavior are cancelled out, and instead the message is I'm TIRED! and ANGRY! and FRUSTRATED! and sound all Amy Poehler-y.  WHY ARE YOU DISAPPOINTING ME?!

Yeah, well done on that.  

Which brings me to the last important lesson I hope I am conferring to my children: the lesson that involves just showing up.  

True, it is a far cry from those inspirational motivational posters and a little more like the "hang in there, kitty" posters that used to make me cringe in high school.  But the truth is, there are times in life where we won't be all that we can be, and to GNC's dismay, we won't beat average, we'll just be average.  Not because it's what we're striving to be, not because it's our ultimate goal or because we don't want to improve, but simply as a result of that little state of affairs called being human.  

If the goal is to only show up for the days on which we're sure we can be perfect and can fulfill all those other things on that list I made up there, we're... well... totally screwed.  We'll never, ever show up. 

Life doesn't give me the luxury of waiting until I can be Super Mommy who knows ALL THE ANSWERS to ALL THE THINGS and manages to handle every circumstance with grace, wisdom and style.  Life asks me to just show up, beautiful mess and imperfections and all, and keep trying.  To make sure that, above all else, my kids know that they are loved and cared for and that they have a mommy who will always, always show up for them, even when that's the very best she has to offer.  

Because I love them, perfection cannot be my goal.  If that's the legacy I'm determined to leave for my children, what a massive, unrealistic disservice I've done them in the long run.  I've set them up for failure if perfection is not only the goal but the expectation and they miss the huge, average-but-critical importance of just showing up, when it's hard and when it's easy.  When you want to and when you don't.

Which works out well for me, particularly after a day like today.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Parenting Paradigm Shift: Embracing the What-Ifs

There is no doubt: one of the most difficult things to do is modify behavior.

There's a reason that countless resources exist, whether in the form of books, college courses, self-help courses with any multitude of strategies and perspectives on raising children.  Because, the truth is that for each and every one of us, we all spend our adult lives analyzing the way that we were raised.  Nobody gets out of this without a little therapy. Freudian formal or over Starbucks with a girlfriend, we all end up laying on the proverbial couch over the relationships, habits, norms and values we were brought up with.

One of the things that is most troubling to me, though, as I try to define for my children what their "normal" will look like, is how very easy it is for the world to undo the lessons I am working so diligently to deliver.  Those values that I'm working so hard to model and reinforce are easily overridden by the hundreds of messages they are receiving simply as a byproduct as they go about their day.

It certainly plays into my decision to homeschool.  I've watched kids cry about wearing a certain type of pant to school because "the girls at school don't like pants like this."  You'd think this message came from my 8th graders, right?  I wish.  This was from kindergartners.  I've listened to second graders talk about Miley Cyrus (not those adorable Hannah Montana years, either) and all the images that conjures up.  At the age of four, Barbies have become the top "get" as presents, and, though I know it flies in the face of little girl "tradition," I'm just not sure what redeeming value that particular toy has.  At the end of the day, it just doesn't fit in with the values we're working so hard to help instill in our children.

 So, for our kids, we've made a very intentional executive decision: Embrace the what-ifs.

What if, from the time that child is tiny, we fed him or her exclusively with positive messages?  I am not suggesting parenting without limits - quite the opposite - but positive messages in the form of music, modeling, books, toys, movies, TV shows, other parents and, yes, other children.  What if we surround our children with an array of age-appropriate, well-vetted imagery, speech and actions that nurture their spirits, character, and souls?

What if we cast off that which is negative, limit that which is neutral, and seek out only that which gives voice to the value and potential of our children?

What if we stand between our children and the idea that the status quo is acceptable, even best, as a yardstick for what goes into developing our children?  What if we reject the notion that, since everyone else is doing it, strength in numbers somehow equates to raising compassionate, joyful and engaged offspring?

What if we approach parenthood not only as a major milestone in our own lives, but as an intentional, inspired launching pad for our little beloveds?

If there is one thing I am discovering as a mother, it is that God has entrusted me with the high honor to speak identity into my children.  Not to say that they are empty vessels who wait on me to breathe life into them; clearly they are their own beings with amazing personalities, strengths, ideas and preferences all their own.  Every mother knows how difficult it is to force a child to eat a food he or she doesn't like, or to argue a point with a toddler who has made up his or her own mind on an issue.  They are willful, independent beings right from the start!

Still, the ability we have been given as mothers to influence, touch, guide and develop our children cannot be overstated, nor should it be undervalued.  We are not to simply sit on the sidelines as our children grow - particularly when they are small and willing to embrace the lessons and wisdom we have to offer.

If you've ever tried to speak with someone about sheltering your children, the responses are as mixed and varied as your audience.  In some ways, the idea of "sheltering" has become a veritable bad parenting buzz-word, equated with unhealthy, awkward children who will undoubtedly grow into adults who melt at life's simplest challenge.

Done well, this could not be further from the truth.

The goal of sheltering is not to keep them from the world, but to better equip them to enter a world full of tough choices.  To arm them with self-confidence, Godly knowledge and discernment.  To help them know where their parents stand on difficult, controversial issues - and more importantly, why we feel that way - and give them roots to make their own choices out of wisdom.  To gift them the opportunity to develop their own character, skills and minds as individuals and give them lots of practice making choices while the stakes are small so that they are ready to function in our much larger world of pressures, choices and consequences.

In education terms, we would call it "front loading."  Without getting too technical, it means to spend a great deal of time pre-teaching the skills we know our learners will need to use independently later on.  In fact, most of what we do as teachers isn't conveying knowledge or facts, but investing up front in the "big ideas" that will carry them through the lesson, then refining processes and providing feedback so that when students are ready to grapple with the subject independently, they have the greatest chance at success.

The idea, then, for raising children, is to identify the characteristics and behaviors we would hope to see from our children and spend time investing in those while they are little.  To surround them with a world that supports and reinforces those values while we can, and gradually release them, with guidance and feedback, into young adults who make their own independent decisions.

"Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it." 
Proverbs 22:5

It's not about protecting them from failure.  Failure is our greatest ally in making wise choices.  It's not about protecting them from pain, since some things you can only learn through experience, pain and loss.  It is about asking two questions: who can our children become if they are allowed to focus on becoming the best version of themselves, and what do they need from us in order to get there?  Not for the purpose of engendering selfishness or vanity or entitlement, but because when they embrace the best version of themselves, when they know who they are and why they're here, they have the most to give back to the world.  

Where they take it is ultimately up to them, and the issues they'll confront over coffee (I pray it's just coffee and not more intensive therapy!) will undoubtedly be their own.  For my part, though, I'm content to err on the side of caution.  It's alright with me that when my four year old hears "Don't Stop Believin'" on the radio, she confidently informs me that she likes the song because it's about God.  That she found it odd when, at a dinner with our friends recently, they didn't pray before their meal.  That she calmly informs other children that they need to use kind words and gentle hands. At four, this is the "normal" I have prepped her for.



And I'm cool with that.  

It doesn't mean we will be perfect.  It doesn't mean our children will be.  But what if we keep trying?

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Hold still and stop crying, Mommy wants a photo.

With our anniversary and Casey's birthday only a week apart every year, the challenge always becomes how to adequately celebrate both. 

One of the many ways we're a good fit is that neither of us are really hot for birthdays.  We kinda just skip them - a nice card, a nice meal, a happy birthday, now let us never speak of this aging thing again.  Except, this one was THE BIG ONE for Casey.  His first "official," grown up birthday. 


And so I planned a little trip.

Five (and also four) years ago, we got married in Vail, which is one of the most astoundingly, breath-takingly beautiful places on Earth to visit in the fall, and it seemed only natural that we celebrate our two milestones here.  

It didn't disappoint. 


I wish I could bottle the emotions that are evoked for me in this particular place.  The first year we were there, newlyweds of only a handful of hours, I remember taking it all in and thinking: I need better words. The smell of that crisp mountain air, tinged with the richness of the falling leaves, a hint of some far-off fire warding off the chill and something delectable cooking in one of any dozen mind-blowing restaurants; you guys, it's heaven on Earth.

And the colors.  Oooooh, the colors.



Pictures just don't do it justice.  The bright golds.  Dazzling reds.  Deep greens.  Sigh.  I could wrap up and swim in their warmth and grace.  

Of course, reality, however well disguised or even suspended, always returns.  Once you're a parent, reality is never very far away, and there are always a few reminders of the intervening years that have past since we were glowy newlyweds.  

For example...

...I just wanted a picture of my darling, beloved littles crossing this bridge.  Because I was pretty sure that if I could get it, it would be good.  Like really, really good.


But reality.  Darn you, reality.




So... that happened.  So much for my lovely, sweet happy-siblings-on-a-bridge picture.  Eat your heart out, Norman Rockwell.  Or rollover in your grave, whichever comes first.

  We even tried again the next night: 


I call it: "Everybody scream while I try to do something nice for the family."  Classic.

That face right there pretty much sums up Logan's feelings about the trip.



Poor kid.  Life is rough when you're Logan.  People kept asking me what's wrong? and is he sick? and how can we help? and the answer is... well... he's just Logan. Life's either hilarious and awesome or completely abysmal.  A trip to Vail was obviously the latter.

I got a few good ones of Leah:










 She only melted a few times, a nice balance to Brother's complete 24/7 teary freak out (usually to fill the silence during his few happy periods, but who's keeping track?).

Despite all of this, we had a lovely time.  The scenery was fabulous, and even though there were definitely moments where we struggled, we just adore these two.  It was a wonderful time out from our regular life.  Even when the baby pooped on the floor.  Yep.



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