Confronting the Meltdown

There is nothing like having an audience when your child decides to hit the skids. It has happened to me more than once which makes me think I should have grown more accustomed to it by now, but instead it invariably throws me for a loop. I found it particularly challenging over the holiday to handle my child’s meltdowns, as I tried to connect with family that I don’t often see.  I struggled to communicate with relatives over the obvious displeasure of our little one. It was partially difficult because our time with my husband’s family is finite. We take our annual holiday trip east, but every year it seems to become shorter in duration and more jam-packed in nature. As a result, lengthy communication is already hindered at the start and conversation becomes downright daunting when your child is crying and screaming in your ear.

Such was the case this holiday. My daughter who is generally jovial and care-free had clearly met her limit of travel, unfamiliar faces, rushed agendas, and an overall hectic holiday schedule. Boy did she let me know her frustration! She was tired, fussy, and working on her two-year molars to add insult to injury. It was not pleasant. I felt the familiar twinge of embarrassment as I tried to console my daughter and ignore the expressions of pity, annoyance, and the other vibes that were floating around the room. I’m not sure why I feel embarrassed in these situations exactly, as even the world’s happiest children have their moments; but somehow, I always feel responsible. I feel culpable for my child’s displeasure as well as liable for negatively impacting others around me. It is one of those silly things that you can’t rationalize but do nonetheless.

Here’s the kicker: in the past, I would have run with the worry and the guilt. I would have held onto it like a blanket and let it suffocate my mood. However, my experience finally won out! I didn’t internalize it or question my parenting skills.  I threw off the blame and instead focused solely on resolving the problem. I took my daughter to a quiet place, sang songs to her, snuggled with her, and gave her what she really needed: relaxed time with mommy. It was satisfying and empowering. It is funny how life presents the same challenges over and over again until you get it right. On this day, I did it right. I evolved. 

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Toy Drive

We walk down the store’s aisle selectively reviewing the display of toys. My son and daughter determine which ones to examine more closely as we walk from aisle to aisle. After a little discussion, we have identified two toys for the Salvation Army Toy Drive. My children are young, but one of my parenting goals (and anyone that has read this blog before knows that I have many) is to teach my children empathy and giving at an early age. Fortunately, it is easier than I suspected. When I decided to ask my children to select toys for under-privileged children, I envisioned that my children would want to keep all the toys for themselves or that they would ask for a new toy as well as a toy for the other children. To my surprise, neither of these worries came to fruition.

My children thoughtfully examined each potential gift and readily discarded any that they didn’t feel cut the mustard. I could tell from their expressions that they were taking their responsibility seriously. In reality, I was amazed at their pensive consideration given their young ages. They wanted to give the perfect gift, and that was their focus. What was equally astounding was that they seemed to easily grasp the concept of helping other children. Their little faces turned serious when I explained why the task of selecting toys for other children was an important one. As is often the case, I found myself on the learning side of my planned education moment with my children: my children were teaching me that understanding and compassion can be fostered at any age.

You embark into parenthood believing that you will teach your children much of what they need to know, but in reality, you find that your children teach you just as much as you teach them. It is then that you realize how gratifying it is to learn as well as teach. It is one of the many remarkable and unexpected pleasures of parenthood.

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Counting Our Blessings

The Thanksgiving holiday came and went, and yet I never got around to compiling my list of all that I am thankful. In the rush to decorate, coordinate, and host Thanksgiving my thoughts simply veered elsewhere, but make no mistake about it; my appreciation is alive and well.

I have always loved Thanksgiving for the fabulous food, time with family, and the perfect timing of the occasion, but also for all that it represents – a national holiday about giving thanks - such a simple yet profound concept. As much as I adore Thanksgiving, the truth is that I recognize the large and small blessings of my life more often than once a year.

Here are a few often overlooked things that I appreciate: comfortable sweaters, snuggling under a warm blanket on a cold night, Eskimo kisses from my children, a flattering pair of jeans, early morning runs on a beautifully crisp day, a good book and an afternoon with nothing on the agenda but time to read it, the smell of fresh brewed coffee, a husband that cooks, fresh cut flowers, sharing a meal with close friends, open prairies, courteous people, President Obama, my best friend, belly-aching laughter, beautiful music, snowcapped mountains, happy customers, and a whole host of other joys.

But what I’m intensely and overpoweringly grateful for are my two remarkable, caring, intelligent, happy, and healthy children, my considerate, funny, and deeply loving husband, my devoted and kind parents, my sweet sister – who is expecting her first child in April - as well as having a job that I both appreciate and adore every day. These are my blessings. These are my joys, and today as well as on Thanksgiving, I am profoundly thankful.

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Giving Yourself Permission to Recharge

I run through my mental checklist: both kids have been bathed – check. By now, they’re sound asleep – check. The dishes are done - check. I smile to myself realizing that the next hour or so is truly my own. My first thought: bubble bath. The hot water drips down my fingers almost instantly transforming my mood. I drip the bubble bath into the water with close to expert precision and slide gingerly into the tub. The bubbly water smells like lavender, and in the interest of indulgence, I light a few tea candles around the parameter of the bathtub. Now the ambiance of relaxation is complete.   I hear myself exhale deeply and slip deeper into the calming waters.

I don’t know what is it about a bubble bath, but by the time I climb out of the tub, my world has been blissfully altered. I feel composed, tranquil and refreshed. I seek out my most comfortable pajamas and navigate the wine rack looking for something light and tasty. It is too late to drink a glass, but I’m pampering myself so once again I indulge.

Earlier in the day, I felt anxious. I had asked myself, am I giving everything and everybody my best? Do my children feel like my top priority? Does my husband feel supported? It was a one-sided conversation that I have had with myself countless times. It is not that I beat myself up necessary (although I have my moments), but like most moms, I feel that I must be superhuman – able to be everything to my children, my spouse, and my work.

There are times when I actually try to convince myself that a little down time or rejuvenation is not deserved. The imaginary devil on my shoulder makes a forceful case: There is too much to do and too many other priorities to tackle. Then the angel on my other shoulder speaks up, reminding me that when you refuse to take care of yourself, you’re not at your best. You’re not able to be all that you aspire to be because you haven’t given yourself permission to recharge.

As I head to bed I feel light, centered, and balanced. I feel like tomorrow is a new day with endless possibility. I remember that women everywhere fight the same battles. They feel unworthy of rest and relaxation. They feel that taking care of themselves means that they're not taking care of others. They forget that their ability to care for others ends when they neglect themselves. The truth is that they not only need it, they deserve it!

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Made in the USA

There is no doubt about it; the US economy needs some assistance. Many Americans are struggling to find jobs and small businesses around the country are working feverishly to keep their doors open. There are certainly many things that could help the economy, but there is one simple thing that each of us can do; we can buy American.  We can buy items that are Made in the USA. While the poor economy may seem like a fact of life right now, the truth is that as consumers we have more influence on our country’s prosperity than we realize.

It is after all the American consumer that has created the insatiable demand for low cost, low quality items (food, toys, clothing, and otherwise). We have fostered the notion that price is the only area of import, and as such, we have become comfortable with purchasing inferior merchandise. In pursuit of the cheap, consumer choice has forced many U.S. companies to shut their doors because U.S. wages, environmental standards, and the use of superior materials have greater expense associated. As a result, most of the products that American consumers purchase come from countries that offer very low wages, poor quality materials, and substandard environmental practices. In fact, almost daily there seems to be another news story exposing contaminated or toxic food or merchandise being imported to this country, and without fail, the item was inexpensive to produce and export.

Is it any wonder that so few things are made in the USA today? And somehow, there is a gigantic disconnect between the state of our economy and the products that consumers chose to buy. American jobs continue to be moved abroad or are eliminated all together, and we continue to express dismay about the state of the economy. Instead of scratching your head about the economic environment while buying yet another cheap import that will last only one season, buy something of quality. In earnest, they are easy to spot. Once you find a high-quality item, read the label, chances are it was made right here in the USA. Now here comes the hard part, look past the price and look at the duration of the investment. Look closely at the item and realize that it was made by an American worker, right here, and distributed by an American company that hires your friends, neighbors and maybe you. Then look deeper and remember how it feels to buy something well-made and long-lasting - that comes from the country that you love – and realize that it’s worth the price.

Think about how you can support an American manufacturer and how you can move the economy forward. Think about the pride that comes from seeing small businesses in your community and elsewhere thrive. Think about the dignity that comes from supporting American jobs, the pleasure that comes from purchasing superior merchandise that will last, and the honor you’ll feel knowing that you did your part.  Think about Made in the USA.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Life Less Seriously

"Yeee!” my daughter squeals as she runs - on her tiptoes - in a gigantic circle, through the kitchen and into the living room. I drop my Devyn Bag sluggishly by the door, and surprisingly find the energy to chase after her. This is our evening ritual. I arrive home after a long day at work with a million thoughts and pressures running through my head.  As I peek my head in the door I’m instantly greeted by her beaming smile, a high-pitched expression of delight, and the clamoring of her little feet as she scampers across the floor.  My work preoccupation flees from my mind as I look at her sweet face.

She is a happy little girl with a willfulness that I know she has inherited from her Dad and me. She is determined but carefree all at once, and there is something about this unique blend that keeps me perpetually and pleasantly amazed. Tonight is no different. I find myself once again in a moment of wonderment, as I watch her gleefully entertaining herself with toys, shoes, Tupperware and anything else she can get her tiny hands on. Her genuine joy, interest and satisfaction are reflected in her frank expression.

I sneak upstairs and slip into my happy clothes – Victoria Secrets flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt – within seconds my daughter is holding onto my legs and looking up at me with one of her massive smiles. I smile back at her, slide down so my arms are around her petite back, and feel my love for her push out the last remaining thought of work. The earlier stresses of the day disappear as I look into her huge hazel eyes, and say to myself, this is what its all about. This is one of the many unsung joys of motherhood. It is about the unabashed, indisputable, and overpowering love that catapults us into another reality. It is about acknowledging that the most important things in life are standing right in front of us, holding onto our legs, and reminding us to take life less seriously.

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Afraid of the Dark

I’ve always been afraid of the dark. Honestly, I’m the world’s biggest chicken when it comes to silly things like this. So it was to my initial disappointment when my son decided to turn off all the lights in the house one Sunday night. He decided that it was time for the bad guys to put him in the dungeon, and it had to be dark to do it! Clearly, my husband and I couldn’t refuse.

There I sat in the pitch black thinking my son has many characteristics that come from my husband. He is high energy, communication galore and sharp. He is part curious, part sure of himself, part defining himself – he is my little man. My son races into the room, and leaves me wondering how does he know how to get around this house so well at night? “Mommy, they put us in the dungeon.” “Yes I know, sweetie.” Right then daddy starts to sneaks in, bounces back surprised, and laughs “Did somebody order a pizza?!” To which my son earnestly answers, “Yes we did.”

After my third trip putting my son down for the night, I lazily think about the incredible nature of imagination. How fun to suspend reality and turn your world into exactly what you want. It is something that I would like to do more of more often. Not suspend reality, as I’m quite content right where I’m at, but to envision your world exactly as you would like it to be: to genuinely look at life with all its future possibilities. Think of it as the power of positive thinking, the power of imagination or living in fantasy, but think of it. There is much in this life to be thankful for and there is much to enjoy!

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The Amazing Race

We love watching the Amazing Race at our house. We take pleasure living vicariously through others as they race around the globe while we sit in the comfort of our home without the stress that accompanies frenzied travel. Without fail once a week, my husband reminds me that he would not choose me to gallivant across the world with him if we ever thought to enter the show, as he says I couldn’t handle the stress. That makes me laugh; I’m forever being fired from our imagined Amazing Race adventure.

Of course, we’re always a week or two or three behind on the episodes because television falls far behind in the priority list, but nonetheless, I’m grateful for the ability to record and view shows whenever the opportunity presents itself. Recently, we watched the episode where Kaylani and Lisa were eliminated from the race in Indonesia. They weren’t my favorite team in earnest, but I suddenly took notice of them when Kaylani Paliotta, a single mother, mentioned that she was running the race for her daughter. She mentioned that she feared her four year would be disappointed that she hadn’t won. That comment made me stop and pay attention as well as wish that they hadn’t been eliminated from the race.

At four years old, I can imagine that her daughter would be nothing short of thrilled to see her and the race would be the farthest thing from her mind. Even so, I can relate to the drive that our children inspire within us without their knowledge. I think about my children every time I endeavor to do something outside of my comfort zone. I think of them when I’m having a particularly challenging day realizing that they too will have days like this.  I must show them that when life gives you a momentary punch, surrender is not an option.  I even think of them when I’m having a particularly good day hoping that I can teach my children that positive thoughts breed a positive life. What’s more, they are my constant motivation for following my dreams, as I wish to show them that they can accomplish anything that they set their mind to, and that they can be what they envision.

It sounds so straightforward, but it can be difficult to lead by example. I have heard that motherhood is the steepest path to enlightenment, and I believe that is true, but I also believe that our children never seem to notice our perceived or actual shortcomings. They do not seem to care if we win the Amazing Race of life; rather, they offer unrestricted, unconditional, and absolute love no matter our deficiencies. And perhaps that is why our children motivate us. It is that endless supply of love, and the knowledge that they’re in our corner regardless of the circumstances. It is these things that fuel us to do our very best because in the end it is all about encouragement.

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A Memorable Day at the Pumpkin Patch

The crisp cool fall air touches my skin, as we are jostled left to right in the tractor pulled wagon. I take a deep breath, relax and quietly appreciate the contrast of the sun’s warmth on my face against the pleasant chill of October. My daughter shifts lazily in my lap looking out at the endless fields of pumpkins while my son’s expression reflects his anxiousness to explore. I love days like this: a day centered on time with our children, investigating the beautiful outdoors, and embracing the simplest pleasures of life.

We arrive at the pumpkin patch to a plethora of orange dotting the landscape. My children run up and down the rows enjoying the time to roam while I set out to find four flawless specimens. Each time I get close to a selecting a pumpkin, I discover that it is a bit more perfect than the previous one that I examined only moments ago. This encourages my indecision, and soon I am on a quest to find the most perfect of all the perfect pumpkins. In the meantime, my children are enchanted by the dirt – laying down, rolling around, and running their fingers across the pebbles much to my chagrin.  I have to remind myself of my husband’s philosophy: kids like dirt and dirt doesn’t hurt (Shakespeare he is not, but he does have a point).   

I hear my daughter squeal with joy as my son chases her, and I stop my pumpkin obsession momentarily to reflect on how quickly my daughter is growing up. At 18 months, she is starting to look like a toddler. Her face has started to look less like an infant’s, and she has suddenly started to sprout in height. She is independent, strong, and knows how to make her thoughts clear. In an instant, she stops and begins running after her brother with a look of determination that I have seen before. My son, surprised by the prompt change in direction, is taken aback for a brief second but then quickly accepts the new game. I laugh and feel grateful that my young children are beginning to play so well together. There is just something about watching your children having fun together that makes your heart sing.

It is late morning by the time we hoist our four unblemished pumpkins and our two heavily soiled children into the car. My husband and I exchange yawns as we watch our children slowly settle into their car seats. It is then that I’m reminded once again of how much they’ve matured in a short period of time. They are still babies in my mind of course, but with each passing day I see glimpses of what lies ahead. I see two children that are siblings and friends: protective of one another, loving, capable, smart as well as strong, and I feel blessed - blessed to be enjoying another beautiful day with my family, blessed that a simple trip to the pumpkin patch taught me so much, and blessed to be the mother of two remarkable children.

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The School of Life

When I think back to my childhood, I remember disliking Kindergarten and Elementary School. I found the school drab and depressing. None of my early childhood education teachers stand out in my memory as particularly good, loving or energetic. That is not to say that my teachers were necessarily poor, but they certainly didn’t have a noticeable impact, and having two older and rambunctious siblings, learning wasn’t on the top of my priority list. In fact, I recall my surprise when several years later, I began liking school. I found many of my teachers in High School inspiring, and I started to truly enjoy learning. 

Now as a parent, and perhaps because of my educational experiences, I want to give my children the experience that I discovered in my latter teenage years but at the onset of their education.  As a result, my husband and I took the process of selecting a preschool for my son seriously.  Our goal was to find a rich and warm learning environment; one that begged for exploration through an engaging, colorful classroom, dynamic life lessons, and loving teachers.  

I believe that we found the perfect fit.  During our first Back to School Night, my son’s excited expression and eagerness to highlight every inch of his classroom as well as introduce me once again to his teacher said it all! The school is beaming with life and energy. The teachers are warm, loving and astute. Learning and play time are sandwiched together in a collective and effective mix. It is as every school should be: an environment that excites your senses and makes learning fun.

I left the school event contemplating the importance of education but also appreciating the many teaching opportunities that we encounter regularly as parents. While it is true that I want my children to enjoy school, I also understand that true wisdom is cultivated in the many ordinary and extraordinary experiences of everyday life. Each day provides us with almost limitless opportunities to teach our children. Walking outdoors provides a chance to teach basic ecology, making dinner offers the ability to discuss different cultures, and visiting the grocery store affords basic lessons in mathematics.  The simple truth is that a genuine love of learning can be developed and accelerated by taking advantage of our day to day encounters. After all, life is about learning.

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Mommy’s Grumpy!

by Amy Fisher

“Mommy’s grumpy!” It was a definite statement of fact—not even a question. My sweet two-year-old plopped into my lap like a cat and patted my arm, her huge blue eyes smiling and sympathetic. She said it again, “Mommy’s grumpy.” Period. “Oh no, no …” the words automatically flew out of my mouth. I was just about to tell her I was fine when it hit me. She was right. I was totally not fine. I had spent the week going at warp speed on little sleep, no down time, no exercise, denying I was even a wee bit tired at eight months pregnant, and most certainly denying to myself that, yes, I did feel grumpy. What was more shocking to me than the fact that my toddler called me on it was the fact that I hadn’t even noticed! Hellooooo … it was another one of those “learning moments” for me as a parent that come from one of my wisest little teachers.

Around my house we’ve been talking a lot about feelings lately—particularly my child’s. It’s that developmental stage my daughter is in where she’s articulating her feelings, labeling them, talking about why she feels this or that. And the thing that blows my mind about her—and children in general—is their absolute honesty and insight into their emotions. It’s definitely something that we, as parents and adults, would benefit from observing, re-learning, and emulating. Children are amazing little beings and it’s quite a privilege to be a parent, able to see the world again vicariously through the purest of lenses. It’s worth noting the way they “feel” the world and maybe trying to apply some of that to our own grown-up lives. We just might feel a little less “grumpy” sometimes. Here are a few observations I’ve made to illustrate the lesson I learned today:

Kids own their feelings. Plain and simple. There’s no denying a feeling for a child. When a feeling pops up, they are quick to acknowledge it. They don’t hide it or put on a false front for the sake of social graces. How many times have you asked someone how they are, and through gritted teeth or sad eyes they say, “I’m fine! How are you?” Or, in my case, they don’t go about their day pretending to themselves that everything is peachy keen, when it’s not. Nope, kids stop and greet the feeling. Like the other day in my daughter’s tumbling class. All the other toddlers were romping around the mats, swinging from the trapezes, and skipping from one activity to the next. My daughter was doing the same when all of a sudden, she stopped, laid down svasana-style on a big blue mat and said, “Ella feels tired. Need a rest.” Literally five seconds later, she popped up and went about her business, feeling restored. She didn’t care what any of the other kids thought of her as they hopped and played around her resting spot. Perhaps if I would’ve followed her lead today and acknowledged my own fatigue, taken a rest, and then moved on, I would not have ended up grumpy. Which leads me to my next point …

Kids feel their feelings. And then let them go. How many times have you gotten upset about something, allowed it to hang around (or even denied that it upset you), and then it morphed into a bigger deal than it should have been later on? It’s emotional baggage, and we’re good about hauling it around as adults. We seem to be really attached to our feelings. Children, on the other hand, greet their feelings head on and really “feel” them, expressing them … and afterwards, they let them go. No grudges, no revisits months later, no shame. Have you ever seen the movie Babies? If not, you should. It’s filled with countless examples of how little ones easily express and process their feelings. There are rage-filled tantrums, moments of pure bliss with tiny smiles so wide it makes your heart melt, and even moments of babies feeling sadness that might make you cry. But you’ll notice that after every strong show of emotion, little ones continue on about their day, almost as if it never happened. That’s because they aren’t attached to any one feeling and they accept that it’s a natural part of life. I think we’ve forgotten this as grown ups.

Kids do not judge their feelings. This is my favorite. In teaching my daughter about feelings, I am reminded that labels such as “good feelings” and “bad feelings” are ones that grown-ups have made up. To a child, there’s neither good nor bad … a feeling just is. As adults, we tend to hold onto the good feelings and deny or shy away from any of the bad ones. We are uncomfortable with sadness, anger, or fear and often distract ourselves if we even so much as suspect they might occur. Or we apologize to others for feeling something “bad” … “I’m sorry I’m really upset right now … “ Why be sorry?

As a parent, the most important take-away from all of this is the fact that our children are keenly in tune to not only their own emotions, but ours as well. Even if your child isn’t old enough to talk, or even if he or she doesn’t seem to be aware of your moods, they are. They are absorbing everything in their environment including your energy. I was reminded today that even if my actions don’t outwardly reflect my mood, my child still feels it and is affected by it. This doesn’t mean pretending that everything is perfect (when it’s not) for the sake of harmony at home—because children have great bullshit detectors as well. To me, it simply means being more in tune with my feelings so that I can name them, feel them, and then let them go so that they don’t become something more that unnecessarily affects my child.

So the coolest part about my little lesson today was the fact that after I told my daughter, yes, mommy feels grumpy and thank you for noticing, she put her hands up to my face and said, “I lovvvvvvve my Mommy!” You can rest assured that my grouchy mood melted into a giant puddle, and I felt loved and happy the rest of the day.

Embrace Your MOMentum

Amy Fisher is a regular and loved contributor to the Devyn Bag Blog.

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Date Night

Life is busy. There are no two ways about it, and our house feels perpetually full of activity. It is no wonder that more often than not, my husband and I are fast asleep by 9:00 p.m. We’re worn out! While a good night’s sleep is a necessity these days, I have to admit it doesn’t bode well for frequent and open communication with your spouse.

For me, communication with my spouse is absolutely critical. Actually, communication in all my relationships is imperative – I’m a talker. What can I say? I need to talk through ideas, emotions, and even passing thoughts, so dialogue with those close to me is key. Without it, I feel disconnected and lonely. I know it is silly, but it is true.

However, when you have two energetic children, two working parents, and a full schedule, it seems communication with your husband is the first thing to go. I’ve noticed this repeatedly over the last few years. My husband and I will go days or at times a week or two without really connecting. We speak to each other sporadically as we address the needs of our children which could be during play time with the kids, over meals or anything in between, but the communication is disjointed, often interrupted, and far from satisfying.

As a result, I’ve reevaluated my position on date nights.  I remember when I was single, the idea of date nights seemed somewhat sad. The concept of literally scheduling a night to connect with the person you love seemed to zap it of all romance. Now, in my wiser years, I can see why couples have decided to add date night to their calendars. It is something to look forward to when the busy days turn into weeks. It is the guarantee of a connection, and an opportunity to cherish each other and the life that you’re building together.

That’s it, I’ve convinced myself. I’m adding date night to my calendar! I’m investing in my marriage and in myself because communication is important. Let people call it lame, lacking in spontaneity or just plain sad. I for one don’t care. I care about connecting with the person that I have chosen – and would happily choose again - to spend the rest of my life with. Date night? Can’t Wait!

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Remembering to Breathe

As a mom with more than one child, a full-time job, the person in charge of cleaning, baths, and everything in between, there are days when I feel overwhelmed! I know that I’m not alone in this regard, and every mother everywhere can relate. Of course, I feel extremely blessed to have two beautiful children to take care of, not to mention a husband that can cook, but there are those days when both kids are having dueling meltdowns or just general crankiness (mine and theirs) that I have to remind myself to take a moment and breathe.

I had one of these moments recently when my daughter awoke a few hours after going to bed for the night convinced that she had merely taken a late night nap. She proceeded to take turns between screaming, whining, and crying until well past 2 o’clock in the morning. I felt badly for her, and I tried to console her, but she is extremely willful (thankfully, as this will serve her well in life especially as a female) and it didn’t work. I then tried singing to her, ignoring her for no more than 10 minutes at a time (a trick our Pediatrician thought us), laying her back down in her crib repeatedly, and everything else that I could think of, but it was to no avail. She was awake, and everyone in our house – perhaps everyone on our block - knew about it!

In earnest, I think my sleep deprivation weakened my ability to handle the situation, and as a result, my attempts to remedy were ineffective at best. Finally in the early hours of the morning, I decided to try rocking her back to sleep – oh yes, the rocking chair - how I love thee! The rocking chair worked like a charm, and my daughter and I were finally able to get a few hours of much-needed sleep.

The next morning, and several cups of coffee later, I asked myself why I hadn’t rocked her back to sleep immediately? The rocking chair is my go-to answer for virtually all that ails. It was then that I realized that had I have taken a moment to collect my thoughts and let out a few deep breathes (insert Yoga ums here) then I would have known exactly what to do. Instead, I raced around frantically which made me feel even more frenzied. When I make a concerted effort to stop, center myself, and breathe everything begins to flow anew. This is what Buddhists call letting your water settle.

This is one of the major principles that I wish to teach my children: when things feel stressful, anxious or otherwise you need to take a few minutes for quiet reflection. Doing so will result in better decision making as well as a more productive and peaceful existence.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Let's Play

“Let’s make cars talk,” my son says as we navigate the stairs first thing in the morning. “OK sweetie,” I sleepily respond. This is pretty much our morning ritual. My son awakes early in the morning and immediately asks if we can play cars together. He loves to make up stories about his toy cars, and nothing thrills him more than when I play along, asking questions in a high-pitched car voice, racing around the house together and being fully engaged.

My daughter is too young to ask for a play date with mom, but she is adept at making her specific request clear. Most of the time, it involves bouncing on her soft toy donkey, on my belly, or dancing in circles until we’re ridiculously and breathlessly dizzy. Both of my children delight in all play activities and/or generally fooling around.

Of course, I have my moments when there seem to be five hundred pressing things to tackle and playing with my little ones is not a possibility, but more often than not, I make it a point to put play time on my priority list. I place it on my “to do” list for many reasons. The first is that I know my play dates with my children are finite. The simple truth is that there will come a day when my children decide that playing with mom is low on their list of priorities, and I will be replaced by the neighborhood kids, an iPad (oh, not ready for that one) or something else that is more appealing. I’m acutely aware of this fact, and I know it is inevitable so if right now my kids entertainment of choice is mom than bring it on!



The second is that children need and crave play time. Their brains thrive on the imagination that ensues as they turn an ordinary basement into a magical and magnificent castle complete with knights, horses, princesses, and kings. Their bodies relish the exercise of running, jumping, and dancing as they fend off dragons, sea monsters, and witches. But more than anything, they bask in feeling your love, presence, and appreciation for being what they are: fun-loving kids.

The third is that quite honestly it is good for the soul. In fact, I often find that when I put other issues at bay and lay on the floor with my kids for some good old fashion wrestling, tickling or messing around that I feel relaxed, refreshed, and genuinely happy - I too have fun. If everyone could spend a portion of the day playing and giggling with someone that they love, the world would be a better place - just imagine the possibilities. So, here’s to savoring play time with our children and honoring the kid in all of us.



Embrace Your MOMentum

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Life in the Big City

OK, so it’s not really a big city, but to our two toddlers it is a gigantic universe. It was the notion of taming this universe that led my husband and I to brave the city via public transportation with our two children in tow one Saturday morning. Our goal: to expose our children to, and gain some familiarity with, the city that we live in. Think of it as giving our children the very beginning lessons of “street smarts.”

We chose to live in the city for many reasons, but it is strange how little we have exposed our children to its heart. Of course, we are frequent visitors to area parks and other outdoor destinations, but our children have yet to truly explore downtown in all its splendor. And what better way to see the city than through public transportation?



We climbed on to the light rail with relative ease, and within minutes we were zipping toward downtown. My son and daughter stared out the windows in amazement - their facial expressions clearly saying “this is better than the movies!” Before long, we were stopped and asked to depart the light rail and instead jump on a bus to downtown. Apparently construction had impacted our route. Undaunted, off we went onto a crowded and somewhat unpleasant smelling bus. The bus trip was considerably less appealing, but our children continued to love every minute of it!

Eventually, my daughter’s patience ended and she began to request - actually yell - to get “down.” It was then that I learned a lesson (or as my friend might say, I encountered a “teaching moment.”) At 17 months, my daughter adores walking and exploring constantly, so sitting still on my lap is unappealing to say the least. I braced myself for the sneers from angry bus passengers that I envisioned I was about to receive and let my daughter have her mini-temper tantrum. To my surprise, it was incredibly short lived, and within minutes, she was back to gazing at the sights and sounds of the city. It turns out that we both learned something: I learned to go with the flow, and my daughter learned that adapting is part of life.



We arrived downtown, and we headed to the Art Museum for some family fun. We spent the next hour or so investigating the play areas of the museum and ended the day with a sack lunch. My children were fascinated, interested, and eager to discover. They were exhilarated and exhausted at the same time. It was the perfect day. In the end, they experienced the same joy that we feel when traipsing through our beloved city.


“That was pretty successful,” my husband whispers but beams as we gingerly walk down the stairs trying to avoid waking our two napping little ones. “It was,” I agreed. The best part was that our children didn’t seem intimidated or scared by the city. Rather, they seemed remarkably at ease. In fact, they seemed at home. I think that more than anything is our on-going parenting goal: to continually teach our children to trust themselves, their instincts and to walk comfortably through this world witnessing all that life has to offer.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Little House on the Prairie

“We’re going to Neb-ras-ka!” my son sings as he literally bounces down the stairs with heartfelt enthusiasm. I had to smile since Nebraska is not exactly Disneyworld, but we were embarking a road trip and that was reason enough to be excited. I remember feeling the same glee over approaching vacations as a child. We rarely embarked on vacations because my father was and is a workaholic. He never felt that he could justify the time away, and my mother never pushed too hard to persuade him otherwise. Nonetheless, we took some amazing family trips to places like Idaho, South Dakota, and Wyoming so road trips have a special place in my heart.

I remember as a child climbing into the Volvo station wagon with my siblings, and immediately pulling out the “car toys” that my mom had purchased specifically for the trip. To this day thinking of that alone brings a smile to my face. Once we got on the road, I would begin envisioning my exact order at McDonald’s, which was always part of our family road trip experience. It was a treat after all, and I took full advantage of it by ordering a full meal and a cherry pie or ice cream cone or whatever else struck my fancy. It was pure bliss!

But back to our road trip to Nebraska: As we meandered our way out of the city, past the congested traffic, and made our way East, I worried about the drive and the next few days. I knew my children would have fun, but I was less convinced about the thrill of a long car ride, potential sleepless nights, and my restless toddlers. We finally arrived to a pristine blue sky – not a cloud in sight – with temperatures in the low 80s and a refreshing light breeze. The gang was waiting for us in the pool. I have to admit, it was picture perfect.

Over the next few days, I grew to truly appreciate the prairie and Nebraska: The expansive landscape, crisp clean air, tall grass, and the calm surroundings. I marveled at the relaxed cows grazing in the pasture and the overall sincerity of the plains. It was exactly what my children needed. In truth, it was exactly what I needed.



My children spent the entire time - day and night - outside. They played in the pool, ran around the spacious yard with their shoes off, chased chickens, swung lazily on the swing sets and giggled almost constantly with their cousins. Their cousins range in age, but they are remarkable individuals. They’re polite, sweet, and took incredible care of all of their little cousins. Really, all pre-teens and teenagers should be so great! It was a delight to watch them interact.

One evening as the sun began to set, I sat on the porch watching my son climb the play-set for the one hundredth time that day. Right at that moment, the gentle rays of the sun landed squarely on his face and perfectly reflected his gaze, and I saw one of the most beautiful things a parent can see on their children’s face: genuine contentment. Now that is what I call paradise. Maybe Nebraska is a better vacation destination than I thought. Maybe it is less about the destination and much more about the company you keep. After all, the best thing that life has to offer is the love of family, and I’m fortunate that my family is second to none.



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Bad Moms

I’ve been reading a great deal about “Bad Moms” in the blogosphere as of late. One article said that “bad is the new good.” In fact, these so-called bad moms seem to be all the rage. Huh? Am I missing something? To back up, a bad mom is someone that does things that other moms wouldn’t approve of. Perhaps they let their kids race recklessly up and down the block, in the middle of the street, while screaming at the top of their lungs. Maybe they encourage their kids to jump on your couch, with their shoes on, while eating a melting ice cream cone. It could be almost anything; it just isn’t “good.” I don’t know. The whole notion makes my head spin. Why are moms buying into this? My inkling is that it is 1. Genuine mom-guilt, 2. Peer pressure from other non-supportive moms, or even worse, 3. Somehow, it is now perceived as hip to be a “bad” mother.

Assuming that it is the first of the potential scenarios, allow me to give some sympathetic advice from one mom to another: Cut yourself some slack! The things that you see as evidence of your failings are likely far from reality. As mothers, we are extremely hard on ourselves and just because you aren’t an exact replica of other moms out there, it doesn’t mean that you are somehow ill-fit. The truth is that having a different parenting style may make you an exception to the norm, but there is nothing wrong with being unique. I say enough with the guilt! If you know in your heart that you’re doing your best than you’re probably a much better mother than you give yourself credit.

Now assuming that it is the second hypothesis (peer pressure) then here is some wise motherly advice courtesy of my mom, “walk a mile in their moccasins” – yes moccasins not shoes for some reason – While I am far from perfect, my mom’s words are forever etched in my mind. The idea is a simple one: we should understand another mother’s circumstances and attempt to walk in their shoes. If we do this, we will be far less apt to judge others which would result in less pressure all around. After all, aren’t we all trying to raise our children to the best of our ability? Aren’t our goals for our children more similar than different?

This leads me to the third scenario that being a bad mom is in vogue which is the hardest one for me to put my arms around. The thing that I can’t understand is that moms are deeming themselves “bad.” These moms are intentionally classifying themselves in a negative light in the interest of being mod. Now that is a head scratcher! When I think of a bad mom, I envision an abusive or cruel person and quite honestly, I would never willingly put myself in that camp. The sad truth is that there are some truly bad mothers out there and to intentionally align yourself with an abusive/bad mom for the sake of being trendy, well, that just isn’t cool.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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A Lesson in Appreciation

My daughter adores the board book Brown Bear, Brown Bear What Do You See? She loves it so much that I read it to her every night, multiple times, and she never tires of it. In fact, she looks at it longingly when I put it back onto her bookcase prior to laying her in her crib at night. I’m always amazed by her concentration and interest in this colorful book, and I cherish seeing the light bulb of understanding that appears so magnificently across her face when she comprehends something.

My son does the same thing, but his concentration is followed by asking many, many questions. While there are days when I could do without the 20 questions or in his case 30 questions, I enjoy knowing that he is asking these questions with the goal of fully understanding the story. He is at that age where he truly wants to identify all the happenings around him, and as a result, he keeps me on my toes.

Watching my children learning, developing, and understanding the world that they live in is one of my greatest delights! It is fascinating, impressive, and exciting all at the same time. It makes me imagine all of their lives’ possibilities. The possibilities of what they will become, what will inspire them, and what the world will look like when they’re my age.

It is these quite times, snuggled in a soft chair reading a book or telling an imaginary story together, that I enjoy above all else. There is something so profoundly special about the opportunity to pensively witness your child’s development. To silently see their imaginations blossom and their perspectives deepen is truly a gift to observe.

Perhaps, this is why I appreciate the quite times: In those peaceful minutes, I have a moment to breathe, listen and focus on the amazing transformations that my children are experiencing every day. It gives me a glimpse into their subconscious, a peek at their future, and a glance at their potential. It fills me with pride. It makes me remember and acknowledge how blessed I am to have these little miracles in my life. It gives me an instant to appreciate the many ways in which my children enrich me. It is a reward that I believe all parents can appreciate and understand. As one of our friends recently said, “Parenthood: what spectacular ride!” I couldn’t agree more.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Conquering The Bag Lady

Pick any given day and I’m taking my little ones to the doctor’s office, the park, the zoo, or a whole host of other places. That’s just the way it is when you’re a mom of more than one child. You spend a lot of time driving your loves from point A to point B.

I don’t mind the driving, in fact, there are times when I enjoy it, but I do mind the constant transporting of multiple bags from one destination to the next. And it is no wonder, when I think of the numerous items that I have to carry from place to place.

Bag #1 – The On-the-Go Food Bag – I can’t leave the house without at least having some string cheese, crackers, fruit, and water or juice for the kids. On the off chance that I do, I’m always sorry, as hunger and/or thirst strikes my babes at the most inopportune times and virtually always ends in the dreaded meltdown.

Bag #2 – The Essential Items Bag– Invariably, I need a bag for carrying the essentials: extra clothes, diapers, sanitary wipes, Kleenex, toys and anything else that I think I will need. This bag is always overflowing and the most unruly of the lot.

Bag #3 – The Work Bag – Working outside the home means that I often need to carry my iPad or laptop when I’m out and about with my children. Plus, it’s great for entertaining my children while waiting at the doctor’s office, etc. On those days, which occur more often than not, I have to carry yet another bag!

Bag #4 – My Purse - Finally, I carry my purse which while not gigantic, is still one more bag.

So there I stand with my children in hand, and 3-4 bags on my shoulder which makes me look ridiculous, feel quite uncomfortable, and become essentially immobile. It is then that I can’t help but focus on my dismay at being, once again, the perpetual “Bag Lady.”

Fortunately, it was this feeling amongst others that led me to create and produce the Devyn Bag. One evening I looked at the slew of non-functional bags that I owned and asked myself: “If I could make one bag that took the best features from each of these bags, what would it look like?” Then, I grabbed a piece of paper and pencil and I started drawing the “perfect bag.” I didn’t hold back. I eliminated all the worthless stuff and focused on everything that I loved. I created aspects that didn’t exist or that I had never seen before in a bag. It was fun. At the end, I said to myself, I HAVE to create this bag!

Today, I carry only one bag – my bag – the Devyn Bag! I’ve turned my back on the Bag Lady of yesteryear, and I’m the proud owner of the most versatile and stylish bag I’ve ever owned. The best part is that now moms everywhere can forever be free of the Bag Lady.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Tackling Tough Topics with Toddlers

My son’s 3D glasses are a few sizes too big, and the popcorn bag in his lap eclipses his legs, but the gigantic smile on his face, as he eagerly anticipates his first movie theatre experience, is nothing short of priceless. To me, there is nothing more spectacular than seeing the undeniable look of pure joy on your children’s faces, and I was enjoying every minute of it!

For weeks, we had been discussing taking our son to the Disney Pixar’s Cars 2 movie. After all, he has virtually every car from the original movie (with the exception of the fire truck which he reminds me about daily), and he’s a BIG fan of Lighting McQueen. My son was over the moon with excitement, and in truth, we were equally eager by the prospect of seeing the sequel to one of the few blissfully benign children’s movies ever produced – Cars 1. We loved the message of the original movie, and the fact “the villain,”, Chick Hicks, is quite tame in comparison to most.

Our joy evaporated quickly as the movie began, and we were subjected to the 007 theme and hijacking of the beautifully simplistic original story. Don’t get me wrong, I like a twist as much as the next guy, but Cars 2 seemed to leave the art of storytelling behind and instead focus on the dread and dramatic. We were subjected to racecars being burned and killed on the racetrack along with other disturbing details. Nonetheless, we left the movie unscathed albeit disappointed.

That was until my son started telling me and others that he was “going to “kill” us” as he re-enacted scenes from the movie. Of course, I would have to address the notion of death with my son eventually, but it was not my intent to address it at the ripe age of 3 years old. Moreover, killing is a bit more complicated to explain than just death.

“I’m going to kill you!” my son said. “We don’t use that word in our house,” I said sternly to my son. “Why?” my son asked. “Because, killing someone is wrong.” “But why?” he asked again earnestly. On and on this went, until my son let me off the hook, so-to-speak, by getting focused on something else (thankfully!). Nonetheless, the fact remains that I will need to readdress “killing” soon. When that day comes I will, undoubtedly, struggle to explains some of life’s cruelties to my sweet little man.

Now I certainly understand that some parents may view my utter dissatisfaction with Cars 2 as being overly protective of my son, and perhaps, that is accurate. Still, the truth is, I would like to preserve the innocence that accompanies childhood for as long as possible. If I had my druthers, I’d prefer for him to remain in a world where people are generally safe - where death isn’t lurking around the racetrack, and where cartoon cars get their kicks out of cow-tipping trackers. That’s the kind of world that I want my young son to see on the big screen.

Embrace your MOMentum

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