Slow Down Busy World, Mom Needs a Break

Sometimes I feel like my life is a speeding train whirling around the bends of the track. I can feel that the train is moving too fast, but no matter how hard I try to put on the brakes the wheels keep spinning in motion. There are times when the hectic pace of life seems fun, almost exhilarating. Then there are times when the constant go-go-go becomes too much, and I wish to slow time down.

I find myself having rushed and frequently interrupted conversations with friends en route from point A to point B.  I arrive at the office and seem to sprint from meeting to meeting. The day is done and it’s time to hurry home, shovel dinner into my mouth as well as into the mouths of my children and then we’re off to the bathtub, a bedtime story as well as a few “just one time up moments” with my son. Before I know it, I’m trudging off to bed because I can’t keep my eyes open one second longer.  The next day it starts over again. 

My goal isn’t to complain. I feel fortunate, indeed lucky, to have a full life with my family. Nonetheless, I have my moments when I long for a slow walk down a winding road with no particular destination. There are times when I dream of sitting leisurely on a beach watching my children play, as I idly slide my toes in and out of the sand. I long for instances when the only pressing item or issue to address is the goal of sleeping in as long as possible which never happens, but hey, one can dream!

When I step back from it all, I become conscious that it is not a single item or responsibility that accelerates the proverbial train in my head, but the weight of all things combined. I know I am not alone in these thoughts. I know that mothers everywhere feel as though there is not enough time in the day. I know that modern moms do everything that they can to move their family forward. However, when fatigue sets in it is the universe telling you to force a slow down – clear some aspect of your calendar – and use the brakes.

That is my goal. I want to remember that the next time the train comes barreling down the tracks. I want to remember that I have brakes. I want to teach myself and my children that sometimes you need to stop and seek out a new path.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Everyone Needs a Best Friend

I remember the day that I met my best friend. I was in first grade and was taken by the new girl that wore blazers to school, but I did not know how to become friends with her. Armed with advice from my mom and a giant bag of licorice, I shrewdly implemented the strategy that my mom and I had concocted the night before. Fortunately, my best friend had a sweet tooth so the licorice was a big hit!

Our friendship started out as many young friendships begin. As children we couldn’t spend more than a few nights together before we were at each other’s throats, and our parents were wise to place strict criteria around our visits to ensure lasting compatibility. In the latter years new challenges presented themselves, as we worked to overcome common teenage jealousies. Later we discovered that miscommunication was a regular culprit of arguments, but through it all, our steadfast commitment to our friendship remained strong.

I have always felt thankful for my best friend, but my gratitude increased even further after the births of my children. The value of a genuine friend is illuminated at this time because there are so many instances where you need someone to provide loving support. There have been numerous times when I have reached out to my friend because I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve relied on her for answers to questions like “did your children ever do…” I’ve sought her counsel when I felt alone, and she is the first person that I think to phone in times of jubilation.  

Fast forward thirty years and the friendship that we formed over candy has been a lasting pillar, and I can’t imagine life without her.  She is the person that understands me without explanation. She is the person that perpetually cheers me on. She is the one that views me free of judgment, with the purity that only true friendships offer.

My wish for moms everywhere is to have one friend like this: one person whose very existence makes a difference in your life, one person that loves you unconditionally, and one person who believes in you. That is my sincere hope because everyone needs a best friend.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Tell Me a Story

“Mommy, will you tell me a pretend story?” “OK, who would you like the story to be about tonight?” I reply. “Spiderman,” my son says as he stretches his thin legs out comfortably in bed. I snuggle close to him and begin to deliver an impromptu fairy-tale based on my imagination. This is our bedtime ritual, and while it may not be the easiest thing to create intriguing stories on the fly, I wouldn’t change our routine for anything. The story develops as I borrow aspects of my day or week with portions of well-known children’s tales, but to keep it original, I add my own twirls and turns.

I watch my son’s reactions as I weave and entwine the tale in an effort to live up to his exceedingly high standards. There are moments when his look of pure wonderment stops me in my tracks. There are times when an expression of mild amusement makes me amplify my creative efforts. Then on the rarest of occasions, and often when I least expect it, I reach the pinnacle. On those nights, my son will leap to his feet with his hands in victorious declaration, and I know that my chronicle has received his highest honor. It is on these infrequent occasions that I understand why this nightly narrative has become habitual.

With each passing eve, I witness my son’s creative thoughts flourish, and lately he has taken to adding his own variations or input to my tales. He will inject his recommendation with such enthusiasm that I cannot refuse. However there is more to it than that. His thoughtful additions invariably improve my story which leaves me a little in awe to be honest. How is it that he possesses this talent at such a young age? But this is not for me to ask; rather my job is to pull his suggestions into my yarn effortlessly in pursuit of his ever-evasive triumphant dance.

“Quietly Spiderman begins to wrap his silky web around the feeble ankles of the Joker. His web is extremely strong but soft so the Joker doesn’t feel it until it’s too late and the Joker gets defeated once again.” My son places his arm around my neck and says. “That was a good story, mommy.” I thank him though secretly wishing that I had received his highest acclaim. I give him a kiss goodnight and realize once again why this nighttime ritual has persisted.  It is because every instant of it, from start to finish, quite simply feeds my soul.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Girl Time

It is a lazy Sunday afternoon. The weather is warm and my feet are bare. I stretch out in a lawn chair and gaze at my children entertaining themselves in the yard. Normally, I would be chasing them or involved in some form of play, but it is nice to just be an observer today. I watch the sunlight dance against their olive skin, intermittently painting my toenails, and gingerly sipping a perfectly chilled beer. I feel the sun’s glow on my back, listen to the songs of the birds above me, and realize how very appreciative I am for this exact moment in time. 

My newly painted toenails capture my daughter’s attention, and she crawls onto my lap for a closer look. I peer at her inquisitive expression and ask if she wants her toenails painted too.  She says “toenails” and quickly places her tiny foot in my hand which is her way of saying “yes please.” I give her a little smirk and happily oblige. She is only two years old, and somehow I hadn’t pictured her first pedicure like this. I always envisioned taking her to a children’s salon when she was older – 4 or 5 maybe – as a special treat or rite of passage.  I can see her tiny frame relaxing in the pedicure chair looking all too grown up or at least I can imagine feeling that way. We have a little conversation while she selects the perfect polish and I’m enjoying every minute of this mother daughter time. This is how I visualize it in my head, but as with most things, the reality is different.

Back in the present, I carefully navigate around my daughter’s toes and coat her teeny toenails with light purple polish.  After each toenail is polished, my daughter’s giant eyes gleam as she extends the purest of smiles as if she wishes to thank me along the way. She is clearly thrilled with her colored toenails, and she repeats the word “pretty” over and over again. I sit up in my lawn chair and carefully clean the excess paint off of her delicate skin. Before I can finish, my daughter hastily pulls off her other shoe fearing that I may forget to paint her remaining unpolished toes. I grin and say, “Are you ready for your other toes now?” This time she makes her intentions completely clear with a resound “Yes!” I can tell that she is enjoying every second of the girly attention so I take extra precaution slowly going through the ritual once again.

When the last toenail has been decorated, she eagerly slips off of my lap and runs to show Daddy her pedicure. I watch as she proudly displays her colorful toes, and I can’t help but think that this is better than I envisioned – more distinctive and precious even with it being more ordinary. And this is the thing about being a mother that continually brings me joy; no matter the grandiose daydream, the reality is always better. The simple becomes spectacular, the commonplace becomes unique, and the predictable becomes unpredictable because my children enrich my experiences and that is better than any fantasy.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Don't Keep Secrets: Preventing Child Sexual Abuse

I walk into what feels like a miniature classroom and squeeze myself into one of the open T-shaped desks. I’m nervous, but I have no reason to be. I look over at my best friend of the past thirty years, she smiles at me, and I realize that she is likely picking up my vibe. She called one evening a few weeks ago and convinced me to attend this seminar because of her experience working as a prosecuting attorney in the crimes against children unit. Knowing her, it is clear that she wishes to protect me and my children from the possibility of future heartache through education, so declining the invitation was out of the question.

The instructor steps up to the podium and brusquely announces that 1 in 4 girls and 1 in 6 boys are sexually abused. To make matters worse, she adds, most abusers are not strangers but rather family, babysitters, or close family friends. I sit up straight in my petite desk and realize that the instructor has captured my complete attention along with every other parent in the room.

The instructor, a childhood victim herself, speaks of the horrors she encountered when someone she knew sexually abused her. She stands bravely in front of the class retelling the painful experiences of her youth, and I suddenly realize why I was nervous. This is scary stuff! It is frightening enough that every parent should hear. She gracefully moves from her anguish to a list of practical and powerful tips to preventing child sexual assault. Below are a few things that you can do to prevent your child from becoming a victim:

1.      Teach your children a NO SECRETS Rule and lead by example. The phrase, “we don’t keep secrets in our family” should be stated and restated just as often as other safety rules are reiterated such as “don’t touch a hot stove.” Sexual abusers try to convince their victims to keep the abuse a secret, and the no secrets rule prevents this from happening. They threaten that if the secret isn’t kept something will happen to them or someone else that they care about, i.e., a family member. Now, you may be thinking: what about if I buy Daddy a gift and I don’t want him to find out, how do I ask my children to comply? The answer is that this is a “surprise” not a secret.

2.      Teach your children that they are the boss of their bodies and others are not allowed to touch their private parts (use the anatomically correct terms) other than a doctor, mommy or daddy when those people are trying to clean, wipe, and/or keep their body healthy. Children with this knowledge are less likely to be victimized.

3.      Teach your children to use anatomically correct terms for their body parts. It is easy to practically incorporate the words vagina or penis into the mix when you are teaching your children about their other body parts, ears, eyes, elbows, knees, etc… The reason being that if your children aren’t using the proper names for their body parts, you may not recognize if they are trying to tell you that they have been sexually abused, i.e., “Grandpa ate my ‘cookie’ when I was at his house.”

I wanted to write this blog for the same reason that my friend wanted me to attend the seminar. Knowledge is power, and every parent should be armed with this knowledge. I can’t fathom the grief and anger that I would experience if I learned that my child had been sexually assaulted. It would be devastating. It is a cruelty that no child or parent should have to bear. My hope is that these three simple tips will keep your children and your hearts safe.  If you wish to learn more prevention tips, you can find information on the workshop that I attended here.

Embrace Your MOMentum

Thank You Mom

I am lying in the middle of my parent’s enormous bed. My body is sweating profusely with fever, as curious hallucinations dance in front of my eyes. I am very young, but even at this early age I’m cognizant that I’m not well. My mother nervously paces around the bed, her eyes reflecting a solemn expression. It is then that I see tiny, cupid-like angels floating above me. Their faces are smiling at me, as they tug at the covers of my bed.  I look at my mother shyly and say, “Mommy, the angels are taking me away.” “NO, they are not!” my mother shouts. She picks me up out of bed, races to the bathroom, and places me into the cool water of the bath. My fever breaks, and shortly thereafter, she lays me into the freshly cleaned sheets of her bed.

This is one of my earliest memories; my mother caring for me at what must have been an extremely frightening time but what I remember most is that I felt completely and utterly safe. When I think back to my childhood, my mother’s healing nature was a constant. She was the one that mended my every wound. She was the one who watched over me. Her therapeutic touch and love were never outside of my reach. Her unlimited devotion gave me a sense of serenity as well as a profound feeling of security.

And yet my mother’s attentive ways do not wholly define her. She is tactless, unpredictable and unconventional to say the least. She seizes every opportunity to embarrass me. She is crass at the most inopportune times. She cannot be tamed. She is all of these things and more, but she is also my unremitting champion. My every dream is her dream. My every endeavor or aspiration receives her faithful support. She is always there standing beside me. She is always there encouraging me. She is there forever reminding me that I am safe.

This is my mother, she is not perfect, but she is exactly what I need. Someone who praises, heals, and defends me when I need it the most. In truth, this is what a mother should be: someone that doesn’t suffocate or stifle but instead reassures you, supports you against the odds, and whose very existence makes you feel protected.

In all of these years, I don’t know that I have ever told my mother how deeply I appreciate her, but this Mother’s day, I think I will.   

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Debunking the Motherhood Myth

Prior to having my children, I was frequently exposed to romantic images of motherhood. Whether portrayed through television, novel or fairytale, the starry-eyed descriptions were consistent; being a competent mother is innate. The perception that motherhood isn’t learned but rather naturally resides inside of every woman is a myth that has been perpetuated in our society.

In fact, motherhood has been idealistically cloaked for so long that it has become a modern day hurdle for many first-time mothers. The perception that new mothers instantly know how to sooth, breastfeed, bath, heal, and everything in between has undoubtedly left its stain on every mother that has been unable to live up to this naïve impression. I remember my deep humiliation when I realized days after my son’s birth that motherhood did not come naturally to me. My son had something akin to colic in the early days of infancy, and at the time, I had no idea how to remedy. I vividly recall someone telling me that as a mother you could tell the difference between your baby’s cries – there was a distinct cry for hunger, one for poopy diapers, and a different one for discomfort or pain. This statement left me paralyzed when I realized that I could not tell the differences in my son’s sobs, as all of his cries sounded equally distressed. My son would weep,and I would immediately change his diaper, feed him, rock him, walk him up and down the stairs (at least it was good exercise) as well as a million other experiments in search of relief until we were both completely exhausted. The fact that I could not decipher his cries or the problem, as clearly all other mothers were able, made me feel worse than incompetent. It made me feel negligent.

I remember a similar occurrence when, after two weeks of delaying my son’s first bath out of fear that I would accidentally drown him or otherwise, my mother-in-law advised me that newborn babies should be bathed in the sink. Again I had no idea, and I was embarrassed by my lack of knowledge. Once I tried this approach, I realized that it was much easier to hold a slippery infant over the sink as opposed to the bathtub.

There were countless other mothering skills that I developed through trial and error, but I did not discover them until I gave myself permission to shatter the myth. I started by being honest with those closest to me. I spoke to other mothers and asked about their experiences. I took advice from my family members (I didn’t always follow but I listened). I went to the pediatrician’s office with a list of questions, some of which were ridiculous in hindsight, but I needed to learn. I even attended a support group for mothers. Most importantly, I tried different tactics to see what worked best for my children.

Two kids and a lot of hard work later, I still have much to learn. This is the truth, and there is no shame in that. It turns out that competency in motherhood, just as competency in life, requires experience.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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