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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Traveling with Kids: A Little Empathy Please

I hear my name being mispronounced over the airports loud speaker as I race down the concourse anxiously scanning the gate numbers. The wheeze of my breath and pain in my chest annoyingly remind me of my body’s need for exercise. I round the corner and see the gate attendant waving me onto the airplane. Winded, relieved, and sweaty, I collapse into my chair, push my Devyn Bag underneath the seat in front of me, and say to nobody in particular, “I can’t believe that I made it!”

In all the years of what feels like endless business travel, one would think I would be used to this, but somehow I’m not. I shut my eyes, try to find my Zen spot, and hear the high-pitched and deafening shriek of the toddler sitting in front of me. My eyes pop open just in time to catch a flight attendant rolling his eyes in obvious irritation followed by a nearby passenger’s loud and unabashedly indiscreet telephone discussion complaining about the “screaming child” on the airplane. I look over at the passenger next to me, and see anger written on her face as well. I feel the tension around me, and apparently so does the child’s mother, as her words of threat and punishment boom for all to hear. It seems that she is making a valiant effort to appease the judges that surround her. I catch a glimpse of her mortified expression, and I feel instant empathy.

My children are generally quite good traveling on airplanes, as the excitement of the journey and an array of new toys (always a must for long travel) seems to appease, but I know the realities of traveling with children. Despite our best attempts to pacify, our children have minds of their own, and there are days when nothing works. This is what pervades my thoughts as I inspect the blatant and infuriated reactions of the passengers and flight crew. In truth, I would prefer to fly in peace and quiet too, and I can understand that a 2 hour flight with a screaming child is tough on the nerves. I also understand that many passengers are far from their child raising years. However, it is really so hard to sympathize? Is it truly such a formidable task to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes?

Then it strikes me that the child has calmed. The screeches that permeated the beginning of the flight have subsided, and yet, the flight attendant continues to joke about the howling child as he hands drinks to the passengers.  The passengers encourage this by eagerly engaging in the banter. I glance over at the mother of the child in question and see her look of embarrassment. Now I’m mad. I want to shout: Have some compassion! Have some respect!  

Traveling with young children is tense, and it is rarely without its challenges. I for one have no desire to make it more stressful by adding insult into the equation. Instead, I believe that we should offer our admiration for mothers and parents everywhere that choose to give their children the gift of travel. We should appreciate the brave parents that offer their children the experience of other destinations and cultures. After all, not everyone has the luxury of travel. Let’s support their efforts to enrich their children’s lives. Let’s support them, and remember that we have all been there.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Dream Big!

Ask my son on any given day what he wants to be when he grows up, and you will be greeted with a myriad of answers, but the one consistency within his answers is that they‘re always grand – not grand in prestige necessarily – but grand in ambition. I always ask for more details about his budding interest of the moment, and fortunately, my son loves to elaborate. I like listening to the thread of his futuristic thoughts. However, what I enjoy the most is that at age 4 he is already aiming high.

I want my children to aim high and dream big.  Who doesn’t? However, it is more than just that. I want my children to understand that they are indeed capable of reaching their goals no matter how far-reaching. Of course, dreaming big is open to interpretation. I certainly don’t want my kids to be stressed out or consumed with their next achievement, but the point is that I want my children to do something that deeply and richly fulfills them. I want them to believe that they can accomplish anything that they set their minds to. I want them to feel limitless.  I want them to believe in themselves and create lives that satisfy their great expectations.

This may seem too metaphysical, but the truth is that the mind is a powerful thing. Often, it is our own thoughts that place us in mental prisons. We set limited expectations and convince ourselves that we can’t be too impressive, too strong, too successful or too capable. Instead, our restricted thoughts say that we must settle: settle for a life of slight dissatisfaction, monotony or mediocrity. We let these constrained thoughts persuade us that our current circumstances are as good as it gets, that this is the best that we can do, be or feel. This is quite frankly both sad and untrue. The truth is that we can free ourselves from the shackles of our constrained thoughts at any time and indeed at any age.

I don’t know the root cause of our cerebral incarceration, but I do know that it is born of fear. We fear the devastation of reaching for the stars only to fall short. We fear the disappointment, the rejection, and perhaps we fear the realities of success itself. I know that I have had my challenges in this regard, but I don’t want to pass fear on to my children as though it is genetic. No, I will look fear in the eye and dare to dream big. I will teach my children to do the same and lead through example.

At the conclusion of my son’s extensive explanation of his adulthood plans, he looks me in the eyes with a curious expression and says, “Mommy, I can be anything I want to be, right?” “Right” I say, and right I believe.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Advice for My Sister: Breastfeeding and Beyond

My sister recently gave birth to her first child. Like all newly-appointed mothers, she is navigating the unfamiliar waters with bravery. Also like most new mothers, she is trying to answer all of her pressing motherhood questions alone. Knowing this, I called to check in on her one morning. I heard the dread in her voice instantly. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “My boobs are so big and full of milk that I’m having difficulty nursing,” she answered sheepishly. “My son is screaming with hunger, and I’m scared that I won’t be able to breastfeed.” That sentence took me back, as I had the same concern days after my first child was born. I vividly remember frantically phoning my girlfriend and describing to her my painful, extremely swollen, rock hard breasts and my inability to breastfeed. It was then that I learned about engorged breasts and how to remedy. I relayed the story to my sister and heard the familiar sigh of relief when I gave her the same advice that I had been given.

A few days later I stopped by my sister’s house. This time, we discussed her seemingly erratic emotions. “Yesterday, I felt so confident. I thought I can handle anything motherhood throws at me. Today, I feel like I’m just terrible at this,” she confessed. Again, I could relate. I gently reminded her that she had given birth only days ago and that her body was flush with hormones. “Of course you are feeling irregular right now. Your body’s hormone levels are all over the map” I assured her. Then, I divulged that I had cried almost every night in the weeks after my first child was born. I would put him in his crib for the night, explain to my husband that I needed to take a bath, sit in the bathtub and sob. In truth, it was the only place that I felt free to express myself, as I worried that if people were aware of my sadness they would think me a bad mother or unappreciative of my new baby.  It wasn’t until later that I learned that 70% of new moms suffer from the “baby blues” after birth.

On my drive home, I started thinking about the many things that never get discussed despite you and your doctor’s best intentions during pregnancy. The sleepless hours are certainly mentioned, but the magnitude of the fatigue, especially during your infant’s first few months of life, gets lost in translation. The constant worry is acknowledged, but one can never clearly convey how the worry follows you even when things are going well. I recollect the terror that I felt the first time my child slept through a very early morning feeding. I raced to my child’s room worried that he had passed away in the night and the absolute elation I felt when I found him sleeping soundly in his crib.

These are the things that are oft forgotten or rarely discussed during the baby shower, in discussions with friends and family, or during numerous Doctor’s appointments: being a new mother is tough! There are countless moments when you simply don’t have the answer; you don’t know how to stop your child’s tears. There are endless times when you question your judgment even when you believe you have found the right answer. There are many instances when an unintended comment or some unsolicited advice will make you feel like you’re a terrible mother.  However, in between all of the tough times, there are an infinite amount of miracles: the first time your baby really stares into your eyes, the first time your baby falls asleep on you, and the first time your baby gives you a huge toothless grin.  These wondrous moments seem to erase all the challenges, breastfeeding and beyond, that new mothers face. These precious times consume your thoughts. This is what you will remember. It is these everyday miracles that make motherhood profound. As one wise woman said, “motherhood is the shortest and steepest path to enlightenment.” Enjoy the climb!

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Older and Wiser

 

My daughter sits confidently on my hip with one arm wrapped around my shoulder as we make our way through the maze of St. Patrick’s Day Parade participants. She peers at the crowd and back at me with one of her all-knowing expressions. Her face seems to say that she has seen this all before. I give her a gentle squeeze and a look that says, “Well, you haven’t actually, but you are wise beyond your years.”

My daughter is turning two this weekend. I have spent the last several days navigating various toy stores looking for the ideal gift and decorations for the big event. Foolishly I tried to engage my daughter in the latter, holding up countless decorations to her to see if she gravitated toward any, but there was always a shiny ball on the horizon, a swishy stuffed animal or something else that struck her fancy. At the end, I went with Tinker Bell décor because I liked the color scheme and matching balloons, but the importance of the affair isn’t lost on me.

It is, in truth, both exciting and a little sad to see your children age. On one hand, it is absolutely fascinating and invigorating to watch them transform into little individuals. On the other, the mere transformation itself can make you long for days past. It seems only weeks ago I was holding my daughter tightly against my chest in the delivery room. Her beautiful big eyes staring up at me with one of her now familiar omniscient gazes. She was born with the same self-assurance that she has today.  

But with every passing year, and indeed every passing day, there are more changes. Always the daredevil, her actions are now more calculating and exact. Her unwavering determination which was literally visible at birth remains steadfast, but the consequence of the action at hand appears to be more top of mind. Her vocabulary and eagerness to communicate have accelerated, and it is clear that her mind is learning at an elevated pace. Even her body, which was forever one big belly surrounded by slim limbs, has begun to transform into a leaner silhouette.

I imagine my daughter on her birthday wearing a new dress and with her hair pulled away from her face – just the way she likes it – surrounded by Tinker Bell balloons, and then I think of the many more changes ahead. Today she is a toddler; tomorrow a little girl. There I go again, getting a little melancholy. The truth of the matter is that this journey through time, this journey from infant to child to adult is what I signed up for from the start. It is the awesome responsibility of encouraging my daughter to be all that she already is and all that she dreams of being - and welcoming the changes. It is a gift, and I wouldn’t change even one aspect of it for anything. Happy Birthday Sweet Girl!

Embrace Your MOMentum

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A Salute to Single Moms

After my fifth trip in thirty minutes to the bathroom, it hits me. I’m sick! In fact, I’m really sick! I need to lie down immediately. I collapse into bed, drag another blanket around me, and eventually fall asleep to the faint sounds of my children playing downstairs with my husband. I close my eyes and thank God for my husband, as I couldn’t possible handle two little ones in my state.

Later when I’m on the mend, I start thinking about the last few rough days and my utter inability to do anything short of lie listlessly in bed. Out of nowhere I gasp and say to myself, “what on earth do single mothers do when they are ill?” Sure it is unpleasant to be sick, but I have the luxury of curling up in bed and asking my husband to take over, but what if it were just me? My chest tightens, and my mind shifts to my sister in law.  She has surely dealt with this issue before and my respect for her increases although, in truth, it was already high.  

I was impressed with her decision at thirty-something to take solo parenting on. I knew she would be a great mother, and her child would be beyond fortunate, but I tended to focus more on the joys of parenting rather than the challenges.  Now as I envision her sick, wrapped in one of her handmade quilts, and caring for her 22 month year old son, I have a whole new appreciation for what it really means to go it alone.  It seems downright daunting. She is, of course, a super hero of moms: handling a full time job, tackling an unbelievable commute, never missing a relative’s birthday, making and sending handmade gifts, finding time to exercise, frequently visiting family, and all the while lovingly raising a sweet little boy.  Throw the stomach flu into the midst, and even with a super hero cape, it would be tough!

And then it dawns on me, my sister in law and single mothers in general do what all mothers do; they put their children first. They put their own feelings aside even when they are feeling lousy. They suck it up and find their inner strength. They raise their children by themselves because they can and because they’re good at it. Simply put, they embrace their MOMentum. But to be clear, and with all that said, I’m still impressed. Caryn and single mothers everywhere, my hat is off to you!

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Family Vacation

Planning a family vacation is always entertaining; my mind automatically starts envisioning the journey. Of course, this type of daydreaming can lead to let downs when the actual vacation arrives. Anyone that has experienced poor weather in a tropical paradise can relate, but there is something to be said for the joy of the blueprint or the plan.

As I flip through various brochures and examine maps for our approaching escapade, I can almost see my children’s smiling faces as we make new discoveries and venture down paths previously unexplored. My imagination runs wild with image after image of untold adventure, but it keeps coming back to the same image: an image of time - Time together as a family. Time away from the rat-race. Time without the constant beeping of emails, cell phones, or other interruptions. I take a sip of my now cold coffee, and it is this picture above all else which awakens a feeling of bliss within me.

Right as I’m beginning to revel in my delight, my son clumsily crawls onto my lap and inquires about our road trip. I begin to explain our plans and as is oft the case, he drills me with 20 questions. I giggle at the familiarity and answer each one.  His eyes light up with every answer and more questions come. Now we are both fully engrossed in the visions that have pushed all other thoughts aside. I feel my excitement grow, as we discuss where we will go, what we will see, and even what we will do at our destinations. I have to admit our plans sound fabulous, and I suddenly can’t wait to pack our bags and head out!

For all the vacations that I have planned prior to being married, prior to having children, and of the many beautiful places I have been, I can’t remember ever feeling more excited about an approaching trip. And there it is again: that conspicuous reminder that life for me is better with kids.  Oh…There I go again! My husband consistently tells me that I need to stop writing so many blogs about how much I love my children, and I’m sure this is sound advice, but I just can't help myself.

The facts are the facts; planning a family vacation is fun. Spending time with my little ones is even more fun, and time together in virtually any setting is precious.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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A Love Story

It is 2:00 in the morning, and my daughter is crying. I take a deep breath and start the five minute rule: If my daughter isn’t asleep in five minutes, I will go to her. It works and minutes later the quiet of the early morning returns. A little after 4:00 a.m. she is crying once again which is highly unusual, “she must be sick,” I think. In a few hours, I will be getting ready for a long business trip.  Knowing this, my husband gets out of bed and walks to my daughter’s room.  Half asleep, I call out instructions for calming my upset child, but he has already left.

Moments later silence returns, and I feel my husband crawl back into bed.  Now I’m impressed.  That was fast! I hear a soft sigh of contentment and rollover to see my daughter resting comfortably on my husband’s chest. I grin and think, “my husband the softy” while secretly appreciating that my daughter is in bed with us safe and sound.

It is funny how often I find myself feeling grateful to have married this man; this handsome and loving man. A man that came into my life at the perfect time and brought me joy beyond measure. This is the man that I will happily spend the rest of my life with. Even better, and that is pretty remarkable, my wonderful husband is also an incredible father. The perfect balance of gentleness and firm, he is the type of father and role model that you would select if given the choice in advance. Patient, kind, thoughtful and stern only when absolutely necessary, he is all of these things and more.

After a tiring week of travel, I am home. I walk in through the back door and hear my family, but they do not hear me. Seizing the opportunity, I tip-toe into the room, stand where I cannot be detected, and listen to the exchange between my husband and children. My husband is entrenched in some sort of make believe universe, his voice high-pitched and magically transformed. I peek around the corner and see his body out-stretched on the floor with his fingers clutching one of our children’s toys. My children lay on their bellies beside him fully enthralled and happy. I close my eyes and feel love wash over me. What a lucky girl I am.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Poisonous Diaper Bags

I’ve become more committed to buying environmentally friendly or green products over the last few years. I have long believed in living in balance with nature, but my Green inclination if-you-will has been heightening since becoming a parent. Blame it on my desire to leave my children a healthy planet on which to live. However, it is a logical choice. After all making the decision to purchase non-toxic/harmful products helps preserves the earth, but it also aids in the health and safety of my family because the truth is that a toxin is a toxin – it is just that simple!

In an age, where formaldehyde is used your deodorant, hydrochloric acid in your toilet bowl cleaner, and kerosene in your furniture polish, it can feel overwhelming to try to live in a world free from toxins. But take heart!  While it is true that it will take a herculean effort to rid the world of toxins, it is relatively easy to start with your own home and especially with your own baby. 

So what’s the worry with diaper bags? A recent study in California by the Center for Environmental Health found disturbingly high levels of lead in diaper bags and diaper bag changing pads.  Lead got into these bags through polyvinyl chloride (“PVC” or vinyl) plastic.  Vinyl or PVC plastic has to be stabilized to retain its strength, and the toxic metal lead is the most common product used to stabilize this plastic.  The lead isn’t bound up in the plastic polymer, so it will migrate to the surface, especially with exposure to heat and friction.  The end result is a bag that has lead on its surface; lead that can be picked up by mommy or baby when they touch the bag.

So what harm can a little lead do?  Plenty.  Lead is toxic. Multiple studies have shown that lead lowers a person’s IQ, even at low levels.  Lead exposure is also cumulative so even low levels of exposure can add up over time.  What’s more, children who are developing are at even higher risk from lead poisoning.

What can you do about it?  Don’t use any products with your baby that have or use Vinyl or PVC.  Vinyl/PVC is commonly used in cooler sections within diaper bags because it is cheap and there is a lack of education on the harmful effects of these pollutants. The good news is that there are alternatives to using Vinyl in diaper bags, and in fact, some manufacturers are at the forefront in this regard www.devynbag.com. The truth is that consumers don’t have to buy toxic diaper bags, but they do have to read the label or merchandise tags. As companies that have allocated the funds for sourcing and utilizing toxic free products are generally quite eager to tell you about it!

Embrace Your MOMentum

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Pretty Is As Pretty Does

As a child, my mother used to say these words to me regularly, “pretty is as pretty does.” She was trying to teach me at an early age that true beauty permeates from within. It is a concept that can be forgotten in our desire and pursuit of aesthetic perfection, but remains true nonetheless; genuine kindness in our thoughts and actions is beautiful.

After all being pretty isn’t really about how we look. It is about how we care for others, but also about the unspoken thoughts and attitudes inside our head. It is about maintaining a positive attitude as well as allowing our exquisiteness to shine through our actions. In earnest, it is the one aspect of our lives that we have total and complete control over – which is a little scary honestly – because the fact is that to think is to create.

Of course, it can feel a daunting task to try and articulate this esoteric notion to a child. How does one explain to a young mind that real beauty is much deeper than the skin on our face? Or that happiness resides within our thoughts and our compassion toward others? Can a child really comprehend these concepts?

My daughter shrieks in delight, and I look over to see my children wrestling on the floor. They’re having the time of their lives, giggling, and playing, but they’re also being intentionally gentle and nice to one another. I smile and shrug off my previous worry realizing the truth: children are brought into this world with an innate abundance of kindheartedness and happiness which is suffocated only when we ignore or dissuade their natural inclination. Their authentic magnificence is intact at birth. It is our job to remind, reinforce, and encourage the belief that already lives within them that pretty is as pretty does.

Embrace Your MOMentum

If you'd like to share your story, email us at info@devynbag.com