Mommy Ever After » Mommyhood

I will never forget.

Rebecca Fox Starr — Tue, 24 Feb 2015 22:05:44 +0000

Yesterday, as I said, I had a tough day. I rebounded, though, primarily because of your supportive notes and comments and messages, so I thank you. I feel blessed.

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.

An hour as a mother.

Rebecca Fox Starr — Sun, 22 Feb 2015 17:16:40 +0000

I was up a lot during the night last night. I don’t think I got very much sleep, and for me, that translates into an increase in anxiety. I have been told by my psychiatrist that sleep is healing for the brain, and I notice that it has a profound impact on my mental state.

My husband did the 6:45 wake up with the kids and then he napped with the baby in the late morning. When they came down, I asked him if I could have an hour to rest.

“Take more than an hour,” he offered, generously. “Take all the time you need.”

So I decided that while I would not take advantage of his kindness, I would take a nice, long shower, wash my hair (this is actually a big deal. Hi, twinny!), get into bed and doze off, likely to the sounds of Slate’s Serial Podcast (I know. “They’ll tell you I’m insane.”

I grabbed my most plush bathrobe, salon shampoo and

and…

and

then this is how it really went down.

I was barely out of the shower when I heard small footsteps and the words “Mama! Mama!” being chanted on repeat. It was my son, who broke into the bathroom. He held out his arms to me, and instead of picking him up, I just hugged him. We stayed for awhile in that embrace, I was on my knees and he smelled like pretzels. When we separated I also saw that he had a handful of my Vanilla Cream Valentine’s Day Peeps. I felt blessed and warm inside, despite being dripping wet.

Not a minute later my daughter was up, joining us in my bedroom as I tried to transfer from towel to bathrobe while constructing a turban on top of my head. “Oh, hi, mom.” She had a handful of Swedish Fish.

I told them both how much I love them. I moisturized and brushed my hair and then I walked downstairs…

to find my husband, perched on the couch, playing a videogame.

“Are you missing anything?” I asked.

And that, my friends, is what an hour of relaxation time is like for a mom. Gotta jet, I still have 21 minutes.

And that’s if Battlefield 4 doesn’t get in the way.

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All my loving

mommyeverafter — Thu, 27 Mar 2014 10:45:01 +0000

This morning, before the sun had time to rise, I had the chance to cuddle up in my little girl’s bed with my daughter, my son and my my Lola.
We all got under the covers.
My daughter held my hand, as I used my other arm to feed my son a bottle. And she asked me to sing for her. So I told her,
“There is this band and they are called The Beatles and they are amazing.”
“Okay, mommy.”
So first, I sang “I want to hold your hand.”
“I love it, mommy.” She was in a loving mood.
Then, I sang “All My Loving.”
“More!” She requested.
So I took her into The White Album and said, ‘This song is more of a story.” And I sang for her “Rocky Raccoon.”
“I like that.”
And I had my three little loves with me and I felt grateful, but I also felt something I haven’t felt in a very long time;
I felt peace.
And yes, a few minutes later life set in. I had to change my son’s full diaper. Lola ran downstairs to go out. My daughter decided she wanted “I’m Alive” from Next to Normal instead of the Beatles.
But for a little while this morning, I felt content and happy and oh so very lucky.
All my loving
I will send to you
All my loving
Darling I’ll be true.

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Daylight Savings

mommyeverafter — Sun, 07 Nov 2010 02:10:04 +0000

Tonight, we will be turning our clocks back.
It is daylight savings time.
And, the time as come for you to learn a few things about me that you don’t already know:
1) I hate cilantro and parsley. The presence of either of these two green garnishes will ruin a meal for me.
2) I am terribly afraid of space. And the planets. And the sky. And I can’t write anymore about it because I’m getting anxiety.
3) I get very confused by time. I have a very hard time trying to grasp time. All things time-related tend to baffle me. Daylight Savings makes my head hurt. Also, yay DST, but seriously, do babies get the memo about being able to sleep an extra hour? I think not. However, I will get back to you on this one.

in approximately 5 hours time
(well, actually, it’s a little less than that, but, you see, I get confused with all of these time-related-calculations, so I’m just going to approximate before my brain starts to throb)
my baby will turn 29 weeks.
Wow,
you say.
You’re so exact. How can you keep track of how many weeks she is?
I can’t.
Tonight, as we were giving her a soapy bubble bath,
I tried, desperately, to figure out how old she would be at 2:22 am tomorrow morning,
and I failed.
I had to resort to the calendar on my computer, and count each week,
week by week,
from April 18 until today.
I told you, I’m bad with time.
Moreover, I am even more befuddled now that I’ve just heard that Daylight Savings begins at 2am. Does my baby turn 29 weeks at 2:22 or 1:22?
AHHHHH, brain.is.disintegrating.
And, also, 29 weeks? Come on.
Come.On.
How is that possible?
I’m not trying to be cute here when I ask, “Isn’t time really, truly speeding up?”
How has it been 29 weeks,
203 days,
(oh, I obv used my calculator for that one)
since our baby story began?
Time is strange.
Using my magical powers
and my IPhoto,
I dug up photographic evidence of what we were doing on this exact date, last year.
I was growing a human.
That’s what I was doing.

Oh, and that’s how I looked.
On this day last year, I was nearly 4 months pregnant.
I can’t tell you how many weeks because that involves time-calculating skills that I have previously established I do not possess.
Kapish?
It’s weird that so much has changed in the time since that picture has taken.
It’s weird that so much hasn’t.
For instance, I was just rummaging through my pantry, searching for the perfect late-night snack, and came across an open box of Handi-snacks. Not the best kind with the breadsticks; the pretzel kind. They were a pregnancy craving. They’re still residing in my cupboard. A little gross, yes, but sentimental, nonetheless.
The handi-snacks haven’t changed.
The fact that 9pm now constitutes a “late-night” meal has.
We dined on cheeseburgers tonight at 5:30 pm. Dinner. At 5:30 pm.
Time. It’s mind-boggling.
When I was in elementary school and went to summer camp, I became enamored with my Junior Counselor, Beth.
I idolized her.
She had blue hair and her backpack was covered in patches and she listened to punk music.
She told me that she was going to a punk rock show down on South Street, for a band called Black Train Jack.
I begged my parents to let me go with her.
I was 8.
They said no.
By the way, thank you, mom and dad. No. Seriously. Thank you.
I pleaded.
I told them that if they let me go, I’d stop sucking my thumb.
No. I am not kidding. No. I will not elaborate.
They said fine, but they would take me themselves.
I don’t remember much about the night.
I longed to dye my hair blue like Beth’s, but my parents would not allow it.
Once again, thank you. I did not appreciate you and your boundaries at the time, but now I do. Oh, how I do. Thank you!!
They did, however, take me into Zipperhead, a crazy shop that sold body piercing apparati and leathers and all other items that were grossly inappropriate for a third grader.
They would not let me get the permanent hair dye, but did allow me to get the wash-out spray.
As far as parents go, mine were pretty awesome.
Still are. You hear that? I love you!!!
ANYHOO,
the reason I am telling you this story is not because I’ve lapsed into a Daylight Saving’s bout of incoherence.
It’s because
a) that experience feels like yesterday. I remember everything about that night and the image of it is as clear as day in my mind. How is it possible that it is nearly 2 decades ago?
b) In the time that has passed since that night, I have become a parent myself. I would never let my daughter go to a concert, on South Street, alone with a blue haired teenager. At least not until she’s out of elementary school. In the 18 years since that show, I have grown up. I get it now.
c) The reason why I was so eager to see Black Train Jack perform at the TLA that night? My absolute favorite song of the third grade moment was called,
you guessed it,
Time.
I’d quote the song for you, but it’s so inappropriate, and not at all a tune I’d ever choose to listen to today.
But, it’s about time nonetheless.
It is hard to write about time without sounding trite or speaking in cliches;
It’s hard to write about time without feeling sentimental or nostalgic;
It’s hard to write about time without my getting confused and frustrated, and needing to hide my head in my hands, which makes it very hard for me to type.
I guess that ultimately, all that I want to say is, it’s normal for us, as humans, to want to look forward to the next best thing. When you are a woman and longing to get pregnant and to start a family, it can’t happen soon enough.
When you’re pregnant, you can’t wait to get past the first trimester so that you can feel human again.
When you’re huge and tired and achy, you’re so anxious to give birth and to meet your baby.
Trust me. I’ve been there. I’ve been all of those places.
But, if the past 29 weeks have taught me one things,
and believe me, they’ve taught me many,
it’s that wishing away time is not only futile, it’s a mistake.
Time is time,
and no matter what we do or think or say or want,
it will continue to pass.
The baby will come and then she will learn to focus her eyes and then she will begin to hold her head up and then she will start to smile and laugh and talk
and sit up
and crawl
and ask you to take her to a Punk Rock Show on South Street with dyed blue hair and a ripped up leather jacket.
It will happen.
So don’t wish the baby steps away.
They’re the best part.
The baby can’t sit on her own without the weeks of wobbling in your arms.
And trust me, as soon as she can sit on her own, and does not need you to hold her up anymore,
you’ll feel elated,
and proud,
and maybe just a tiny bit lighter, without the weight of her on your arms.
And maybe, just a tiny bit sad.
Because it goes by so quickly.
29 weeks might as well be 29 seconds,
as they pass by in an instant,
before you can blink your eyes
or finish a box of Handi-Snacks.
Trust me,
I know I’m no expert,
but, if I can give you one piece of advice, it is this:
Tonight is Daylight Saving’s Time.
It’s one day, once a year, that Time gives us all a most precious gift; it gives itself back.
It allows us to take 60 of those fleeting minutes,
all of those missed, lost moments,
and re-live them,
or live them better
than we did the first time.
It lets us rewind one hour,
so that we can enjoy one more hour of sleep
or hugs
or bad punk music
or cheeseburgers
or whatever you are lucky enough to do or feel.
I hope that you have a wonderful Daylight Saving’s.
I may not be able to figure out how time works,
and I may not want to think about it too much, at the risk of losing the few marbles I have left,
but I’ll tell you one thing:
I plan to use my hour well.
Because in a world where time, and life go by more quickly than any of us would like,
Daylight Savings can be the ultimate
Saving grace.

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