I have good stories,

funny stories,

warm stories,

and a love story.

But I haven’t been able to write, because I have been too busy doing this thing called living.

So, I decided that while I took the time to craft and publish these stories, today, I would republish the story that I wrote on this date, March 30, of last year (not knowing what it would be). I thought that it would be a nice exercise to display just how far we as a family have come. I expected something emotional or a silly tidbit, but it just so happens that on March 30, 2014, in a serendipitous coincidence, I wrote a special post–the beginning of my “Hopeful Story”.

So, while you wait to read about my today, I hope you enjoy reading about my day last year, in

Home.

Originally Published on the old MEA site on March 30, 2014.

When we started thinking about having a second child, we were warned that two kids does not equal double the work, but instead, 100 times the work. We have not found that to be true. In fact, we don’t even think it is double the work. We feel like the jump from no kids to one kid was much greater than from one to two. I believe that this is in part due to the fact that we waited 3.5 years between kids, and my daughter can do things like let in the dog and go into the fridge for a snack and take herself to the bathroom. It is a juggling act at times, but it works. Despite my struggles, I haven’t felt overwhelmed by having two kids; unless you count feeling overwhelmed with love. And I mean it.
But having two kids does mean tag-teaming. My husband usually does my daughter’s bedtime. It’s a special time they share. He tells her stories; sometimes they are about Star Wars, sometimes about princesses; last night it was My Little Pony. He sings to her a certain repertoire of songs and they snuggle. It is very sweet.
But tonight, as a special treat (really, for all of us) I said I would come in after stories and songs for a snuggle session with my girl.
I crawled into her bed and rested my head on the pillow next to her. And I got that peaceful feeling again, one that has been so hard to find recently. But I got it.
And I asked her if I could sing her a song, because all I could hear in my head was the Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros song “Home”s chorus.
Home,
Let me come home,
Home is wherever I’m with you.
“With you I feel home,” I told her.
“With you I feel whole,” she replied.
She is so amazing.
Home is wherever I’m with you.
Even though life has been hard, I am grateful for the little things, like 10 minutes of snuggling with my firstborn, who is growing up so quickly I can hardly catch my breath.
And I’m starting to find my way,
slowly,
arduously,
but I really am starting to head in the direction
towards home.

*Featured Image by Lindsay Docherty Photography

The post Home, again. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

We shared a chocolate covered m&m pretzel and she told me about her day.

And then we got on the subject of “describing” things. At first she was a bit confused by the whole concept, so I said, “Here, let me describe this pillow in three words: It is square, it is fuchsia and it has flowers on it.”

“Mom, those are leaves,” she corrected me.

I asked her to describe me in three words, but said that it couldn’t be about anything physical, that she could see.

She said:

Sweet

Smart

Takes good care of me

I was very touched.

We went through many important people in our lives, as she described them using three adjectives and she was on the nose for the most part, except for the fact that one of the descriptions of my mother was, “She helps Zaydie make us pancakes.”

[Note: I literally could not even type that without laughing]

My mom is not a cook.

In any case, it was a really sweet exercise and one that I hope helps her to be a more conscious and reflective human being.

And then we got on the subject of the movies, which led us to a discussion on the Muppets.

So I taught her about Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggie and did horrible impersonations of both–

my husband had joined us by this point and was much better–

and then I told her something that I thought was true but was an error.

I told her that there are these characters called Muppet Babies and they only come to life when people are not around, like with Doc McStuffins, and that when the grown-up speaks it sounds like, “Wah wah wah wah wah wah”.

Only one of those facts proved to be true.

The Muppet Babies live in a nursery and are taken care of by a talking Nanny who is fully aware of their presence.

But she thought the idea of the “Wah”-ing adult was very funny (as did the many of the fans of Charlie Brown, where that actually happens, I assume).

“Oh!” She said. “So if I wanted to say, “I really like this Buddha, I would actually say ‘Wah Wah Wah Wah Wah Woo Wah’, right?”

And all of the above is to make one simple point:

My kid is weird, in a most fantastic way, and she totally gets it from me.

Wah Wah.

(Translate that and you get a pretzel!)

P.S. I really like the Muppet Babies theme song. See? I’m weird.

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It will be my daughter’s fourth picture day at her Pre-School and it is always an exciting day for the kids and their parents.

In the past, we have always made sure to pick out special outfits with care.

Last night, before bed, my daughter and I made a plan to pick out a special outfit this morning for her picture day.

“I think I want a tank top with a long-sleeved shirt underneath.” I remember her saying, but I did not think much of it.

This morning, I woke up to the sound of the baby, but my daughter had already been up for awhile.

When I peeked in her room, I saw that she had already gotten dressed.

She was wearing purple leggings and a hot pink and black striped tank top with a studded peace sign–with a coral-pink long-sleeved shirt underneath.

And hair chalk. Hot pink chair chalk.

At first, I subtly hinted at the fact that we would obviously be changing for picture day, as I changed her brother and said that we would go down for breakfast.

“But mom,” she said. “I don’t want to get anything on my Picture Day outfit.”

I opened my mouth to protest and then I stopped.

This is what she wanted to wear to express herself. This is the outfit that makes her feel good today, and she did it all by herself.

I texted my mommy bestie, whose son is also having his picture taken today, and I asked her, “What makes me a better mom?” But I already knew the answer.

If my girl has the confidence to rock pink hair chalk to school, 1 month shy of being 5 years old, then more power to her.

So I told her that we would be very careful with her special outfit and I assured her that I would make sure to style her hair so that the pink was clearly visible.

“I think I look perfect,” she said; her exact words. And I could cry while typing this, as I am so proud of the person that she is becoming.

I asked if I could take her picture for my blog, and she is now an expert on how to pose for Mommy, Ever After, as opposed to regular photos, as she knows that I don’t show her face on my site.

So here she is. This is picture day.

And my kid? She chose a peace sign. I could not be more proud.

Best picture day ever.

Featured image via

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Morning glow by your light
We can make the new day bright
And the phantoms of the night
Will fade into the past
Morning glow is here

At last.

-Stephen Schwartz, Pippin

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Today, however, is a day that I will never forget. And that because today was one of my best days as a parent; one of the best times of my life.

Let me first tell you a story.

Six months ago, my daughter woke up one morning and told me that she was ready to get her ears pierced. I had been encouraging her, so I was excited, and picked her up from camp with my mom, her J, who is her godmother, those pastel colored mint nonpareils and many promises of things that she would desire.

We trekked through the mall and found the piercing station, signed all of the paperwork, picked out the earrings and then my daughter completely freaked out. Like, epic, screaming, wailing, terrified of the marker freak out. She was, evidently, not ready. #fail.

It is a subject that has come up on and off since the summer and the conversation has always ended with, “You know what? I am not quite ready yet. I will get my ears pierced when I am ready.”

This morning, out of nowhere, my daughter woke up, came into my room and said, “Mom, I am ready,” with great conviction.

We talked about it and she didn’t back down.

And then, I had a minor anxiety attack. Because of logistics and the hours during which I have my sitter, I  knew that I would have to get her ears pierced around lunch time or a bit after so that I could go without the baby, as I had childcare during those hours only. My daughter attends school 9am-3pm. The idea occurred to me that I could keep her home from school today (I looked at the temperature on my phone and it read 5 degrees) for a special date. But for some reason this made me feel like a bad mother.

I consulted with my husband. I asked my best friends for their opinions. I asked J, who is, among many other specialties, a licensed child psychologist. I posted the question in the incredible Mommy, Ever After community group. “Am I wrong to keep my daughter home from school today to get her ears pierced?” My anxieties were not about academics (she is doing just fine) or the social component (she loves school and has many friends) but for some reason I feared that by keeping her home for no reason would give her school anxiety. And then I thought back to my childhood, when my mom would give me and my sister “mental health days”. My sister and I both went to graduate school, she is an award winning journalist, and neither of us feared school or had trouble making friends or keeping up. The response that I received from my friends was a rousing, “Yes! Keep her home! There is nothing to worry about!” (By the way, in case you are reading this and happen to be one of her teachers, please know that a big part of my anxiety was due to the fact I value and adore you to no end).

So I took a deep breath and emailed the school and said that my daughter would be absent today.

This afternoon, while the baby was at being watched, I had a date with my daughter. On our drive to the mall we had incredible conversations. We talked about being nervous and about how important it is to not let our fears stop us from doing things that we want to do. I did not want to give her any of my phobias, but she already knows that I don’t like snakes, so I used that as an example. “Even though I don’t like snakes, I love to hike in the woods and be in nature,” I explained to her. And this lead to a great conversation about animal classifications and I was able to teach her the difference between mammals, reptiles and amphibians.

A few times during the drive she told me that she was nervous, but we kept repeating our mantra, which was “sometimes things scare us, but we won’t let them stop us!”

My daughter was a rock star today. We went to the piercing place, and although she was very apprehensive, she didn’t back down. The one caveat was that I had to get a piercing first to show her that it does not hurt. (This, I now realize, was an incredibly wise move the day before I am getting an MRI.)

For her earrings, my girl picked out pink stones in the shape of a heart, and had me choose a shining pink heart as well.

“We will be twins!” My own heart was bursting as she sat, stoic and brave, as two women pierced her ears, giving her a sparkling heart in each ear.

She did it.

We celebrated with a special date and I told her I was proud of her as many times as I kissed her (which is a lot).

And then I realized something so important; my earlier anxiety was in vain;

Today, my daughter missed a day of preschool and although she loves her teachers and classmates, she will get to see them every week day until June.

But today my daughter learned something that is impossible to teach without doing.

Sometimes things scare us but we won’t let them stop us.

Today, she learned to trust her instincts; she learned that she was braver than she realized; she learned that I will always have her back; she learned that the world has many things that are scary, but that we can, if we are lucky, conquer our fears.

Today was one of those parenting milestones that I will never forget.

Sometimes things scare us but we won’t let them stop us.

And in a home that is already filled with love, there is still always room for three more hearts.

The post I will never forget. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

So, when I heard this song, I was moved, immediately, and sent messages to my husband, and to J, for different reasons; because CSNY was our first concert together and because my inner spirit is a peace sign to her.

Tumbleweed, your inner spirit is a peace sign to me
Life is full of little tricks and we can always pick up sticks
And build again, that’s what we do

Harmony, the way we hold on when we tumble though the night
Life is full of strange delights, in the darkness we find lights
To make our way, back home again

Tumbleweed, I’m baring my soul to you
Tumbleweed, it’s all that I’ve got that’s true

Bite me now, with your confusion, your happiness and delight
It will only hurt a moment, then it’s gone and you can see
There’s nothing left, to leave a mark

Animal, care for your kind, in the way you always do
When the flower moon is shining, it’s eclipse and your lips smiling
Comfort me and I comfort you

It is interesting; when I heard the acoustic version of this song on the “Coffeehouse” station this morning, it was sung as “Tumbleweed, your inner spirit is a peace sign to me.” and that is the same diction used in the official listing of the song lyrics. However, in the link above, which is considered the video for the song, the lyrics are changed to “Tumbleweed, your inner beauty is a peace sign to me.”

I will take either.

Also on “Coffeehouse” I heard this old classic, about which I texted my main band bro, saying, “We should totally do this song!” and then proceeded to belt it out, emoting greatly, publicly, on Lancaster Avenue.

My drive took me to Vivi G. shoes in Eagle Village. It was the coldest day in recent memory, but I wanted to get my flip flop on.

I have mentioned recently that I am just finally starting to very, very slowly replace a few items from my lost shoe collection and I was so lucky that my girl, Jen, owner of Vivi G., hooked me up with my sandal start. But I also managed to have a little fun…

After my quick shoe shopping trip, I had a much more profound trip down memory lane. I met up for tea with an old friend. All that I can and will say is that this person was once very special to me, and though I have not seen her in closer to two decades than one, she now means more to me than ever. She is what I call a Unicorn; she is someone who is, if you can believe it, equally beautiful inside and out. Her inner spirit is a peace sign to me.

 The rest of my day was spent doing regular, every day things. I went to the bank. I picked up an entire roll of tinfoil off of my first floor. I spoke on the phone with my friends.

And when it came time to do bedtime, my daughter asked if she could read along with us.

My kid is reading and it is really cool.

I, meanwhile, could barely read “Fox in Socks”, despite the fact that I consider myself to be a master at tongue twisters (I even teach classes on the things!) and definitely said some inappropriate words. Sorry, Dr. Seuss.

We somehow made it through the Tweedle Beetle Battle and cuddled up and talked her favorite subject, once again: the plans for her upcoming birthday party. “We could do a swimming party,” she said. Her birthday is April 18. “Where are we going to be able to have a swimming party?” I asked.

“Miami!”

I held her to me and did want to let go.

I chose a new lullaby for my daughter tonight. “Kiss Me”. I thought she would like it.

I was right.

And a few minutes ago, long after we tucked her into bed, as I was working on gathering the music for this post, she came to my door and said,

“Keep on playing it,” she whispered. “It’s amazing.”

Her inner beauty is a peace sign to me.

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I am used to many of my posts being greeted with great warmth and empathy.

“I feel exactly the same way!” I hear.

But I don’t think that this will be that kind of post; it is going to be a different post.

An unpopular post.

And that is OK.

I am writing in support of the snow day today, and, really, in defense of all snow days, whether the call was made wisely due to blizzard-like-conditions, or prematurely, causing great inconvenience.

I am a teacher. I have been the director of programs for children. I am a stay-at-home-mom and the primary caregiver for my kids. I am a writer who works from my house.

I get it.

But first, let me backtrack a bit. Before I was a mother, I was a teacher. I went to graduate school for education, have taught at many age levels and have heard countless (literally countless) complaints about school being closed for snow days.

When parents enroll their children in school, educational or extracurricular programs, they do so because they need to. And when those programs are cancelled because of (impending or falling or fallen) snow, it can cause problems, ranging from inconvenient to nearly impossible.

But, and I say this with all of the compassion in the world, I think that this culture of “OH NO, PLEASE I PRAY THAT MY KID’S SCHOOL DOESN’T CLOSE” has gotten a bit ridiculous. There, I said it. This is part of what is going to make this post unpopular; perhaps, even unappreciated. But, let me explain.

During my first years as a full time teacher, I was not yet a mother, though I longed to be. This is not a subject I have ever broached on this site before, and this is not the post in which I will really be doing so, though it is coming. It took me a bit of time to conceive my first child. I had no diagnosis, no medical problems of which to speak, and I was very young. It just wasn’t happening. And that situation went from inconvenient to nearly impossible.

I have always been a teacher who loved my students as my own and cared for them as such; It was hard when I held children, for whom I cared so deeply, and found myself waiting month after month, facing the constant disappointment of “we will try again next time”. You may have noticed on my sidebar that I have advertised for The Healing Arts Center of Philadelphia since the launch of the new site. This is because, as I have stated time and again, the goal of the advertising on my site is to make peoples’ lives better and that is what Steven Mavros did for me. Much more on Steven and his practice later, as they will be the subject of a whole post (because, really, the story of how we recently went out for a business dinner and I told our waiter, “This is the man who got me pregnant, but no, we have never been together” deserves a post of it’s own, does it not?) but for now, I am just trying to provide context. I wanted to be a mother, but it took some time. And every time a parent would complain to me about how the school had to close for “another school day?” something inside me would hurt.

But I am a compassionate and non-judgmental person. I realized, always, two salient points: that these parents loved their children to no end and that I had no real concept of what it was like to actually be a parent, day in and day out, as my children left me at the end of each school day.

And then, in 2010, I became a mother. For four years, I taught every day while also being the primary caregiver to my daughter. It was a constant juggling act. I had to miss things little things like pediatrician appointments and snuggly sick days, and then bigger things, like her recent camp visiting day when she learned how to swim for the very first time. Again, these things that I missed, they were sometimes inconvenient and other times, nearly impossible.

But enough about the past. Let’s move on to today. Because today is the first day when I have worked up the courage to say this thing that I have been thinking since I was a student teacher nearly a decade ago.

Let me give you some of my perspective:

Today, I have two kids home with me, as I stay at home with my son and my daughter’s school is closed for a snow day.

Today, I had 4 appointments on my calendar, as well as the management of several projects involved in the finishing of our basement. At least one has been delayed so far because of today’s snow, pushing back our deadline (which was originally scheduled for January 5) even further.

Today I had two doctor’s appointments, one for my son that is possibly scary and definitely time sensitive

and one for myself.

I don’t talk about it all the time, but I am still facing major health issues and a dramatic change in my treatment plans.

I also had a business meeting scheduled for a possible partnership that would be extremely exciting for me and even more exciting for you (pinky swear).

I also have a babysitter scheduled for today, but because of the weather and her commute from center city, we had to change her hours to keep her safe (my top priority, no question).

 Finally, I have this. This is not only a source of great joy for me (which it is–it so is) but it is also my job. And while I try to tell my daughter to watch my son so that I can publish a quick post, the laptop is like a magnet for a 16 month old whose favorite toys are the Xbox, remote and toilet (read: I cannot type a word when he is in the room, and I can’t leave him alone without him crawling into the oven).

This means that for me, snow days are far from easy. But I love them. I love today. I smiled when I woke at 6:15am to see the email from my daughter’s preschool that they would be closed. I was so excited to tell her that we would be able to stay home together, drinking hot chocolate and making up new games. I love the necklace of beaded hearts that I am wearing, just placed around my neck by my little girl who wanted to make me a special snow day present.

I am discouraged that my son’s appointment with the ophthalmologist has to be postponed;

I am disappointed that I won’t have my coffee date that I was hoping to turn into a partnership;

I get overwhelmed by the juggling act, just like everyone else.

But I am also endlessly grateful. I am so grateful that the people who are in charge of my daughter’s school have decided that her safety (our safety) is paramount;

I am grateful that I can hear my kids whispering from the other room right now as I type (I am hiding the laptop under a blanket) as they hide in their own clubhouse of sorts.

But, most of all, I am grateful that I have the problem of having more juggling pins than I have hands, because that means that my dreams have come true.

I have the resources to get help for my health issues;

I am writing, now, every day;

I am a mother.

So perhaps, instead of scorning the snow day (or me, for writing this unpopular post), you can find a way to celebrate it,

inconveniences, impossibilities and all,

because a snow day that makes life hard means that we have so much.

Appointments can be rescheduled. Personal days can be taken. Things can be figured out. Deadlines can be pushed back

And it is not always easy,

but it is my firm belief that it is always,

always

worth it.

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Except, I wasn’t quite ready to get up, nor was I feeling my best, so I decided that while we were “up” we could snuggle on the couch watching music videos for a good hour before starting our real day.

I will share with you our playlist, but I have to say, it is going to seem painfully unoriginal, as I have recently written about most of these songs, but that’s how things work in our house (and, presumably in the house of anyone who has children; a song gets stuck and is everything until the next song comes and takes it’s place. There was a six month David Bowie streak during my pregnancy with my son–my daughter was obsessed–which means that I can no longer listen to “Starman” without feeling queasy).

So, our morning soundtrack sounded a little bit like this:

Uptown Funk, our go-to dance party song of the moment,

which led us, by way of Mark Ronson, to “Valerie” as it is a song I sing with my band, both acoustic and electric,

which took us to “Summer Nights”,

followed by “You’re the One that I Want”, both from Grease, which is still in her top two favorite musicals of the week;

I asked her if we could listen to “Somebody to Love” as it a) now has a special meaning to me and b) is an amazing song;

She was allowed to choose next, and picked this song, something she listens to with her dad on the way to school;

Then it was Elvis Costello’s “Oliver’s Army”, which I am shocked that I have not previously written about; I almost can’t believe it to the point that I am skeptical of the accuracy of my search function on this site. “Oliver’s Army” defined my family vacation car rides with my parents and sister. We both thought it was called “Oligazombie”.

Then, for my son, his favorite song (I’ll let you figure out the one about which I am referring; he is decidedly less fickle than my daughter. He finds a song and sticks to it).

And watching my kids dance, and watching them experience music, something that is so important to me, was the perfect way to start the day.

May your day be filled with a lot of funk, somebody to love, a minimal amount of lumps, no zombies and, of course, that bass.

By the way, the featured image for this post is a photo from about 25 years ago, when I first got into “Oligazombie”, Queen and Musical Theatre; Since it’s #tbt and all, I figured I’d go with it.

The post A Musical Morning. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

your family traditions stop being the rituals you have customarily shared with your parents and elders, but they start to evolve, slowly, into things that are perhaps unique and new.

Last night was the first night of Hanukkah.

Instead of celebrating with parents or family members or friends, as we typically would, it was just the four of us. My little family.

And really, that is how I remember celebrating Hanukkah with my family of four as a chlid. Sure, I remember the big family gatherings, but my most vivid and evocative memories are of chanting the blessings with my parents, wearing matching flannel nightgowns with my little sister, (always with ruffles at the seams) and instead of singing “Az ‘egmor beshir mizmor, Khanukat hamizbeakh.” I thought that it was actually “Azegmore, and hear me snore.”

So last night, after dinner, my daughter got dressed in a flannel nightgown, with ruffles at the seams, and I held my son as I chanted the blessings (since I am really the only one in my house now who knows them all). And it was different, but it was lovely. We have a mountain of presents for my daughter, from grandparents, great-grandparents and friends, but last night we gave her our “big gift”: a blanket that has a hood that looks like a cat and glows in the dark. She saw a commercial for it on the television and had been asking for it for weeks, and so when she pulled this 19 dollar gift out of the Hanukkah bag she squealed with delight. And I could tell that she really appreciated her gift. It didn’t get lost in a sea of excitement and wrapping paper. She wore it and folded it and watched it light up. And every time I checked on her last night, she was in a different position in bed, cuddling her new blanket in some way.

It was a strange feeling, to be the grown up in all of this; the one to light the candles and say the blessings and give the gifts. And it stuck with me throughout the night. As I was tidying up the kitchen before bed, a penny fell from the sky. Now, I don’t know that it actually fell from the sky, but it fell from somewhere above and knocked me in the head before landing, face up, on the ground beside me.

A penny from heaven. A 2014 penny, at that, which seemed particularly apt in the light of yesterday’s words about this past year.

We are growing up around here. And that’s ok.

Happy Hanukkah to those who celebrate,

and to anyone and everyone else, I wish you a year of light, love,

and maybe even a miracle or two.

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It is official;

I have a Fairy Peepmother.

Just like I always say,

I have the BEST Peeps.

Thank you, thank you, from the bottom of our hearts,

the middle of our tummies

and the insides of our teeth!

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