When the student is ready...

As I was catching my breath after getting winded doing my fifth round of "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes, " my children were giggling with total abandon. I was overcome with a feeling of not only how out of shape I am, but just how grateful I am that these little monkeys are in my life.
I have been doing a lot of self-sabotage lately in my writing, so today, I am going to concentrate on the yumminess of my boys. I have learned so much since becoming a mother and for this, I am beyond grateful. I'd like to share the loving lessons I have learned thus far in my motherhood.

So, here it is...

THE TOP TEN THINGS MY CHILDREN HAVE ALREADY TAUGHT ME.

10. Black Yoga pants are the perfect substitute for any kind trouser. And yes, I did just use the word "trouser." I have gotten to where I can dress myself while bathing one child and feeding the other. Add a cute little cardigan or a necklace and I look downright fancy.

9. The four basic food groups are Fruit, Pizza, Peanut Butter and Jelly, and Chicken Nuggets. 
I have felt tortured by my inability to cook for my children organic, delicious meals that are full of nutrients but each day my child asked for a banana for breakfast and a PB and J for lunch. I try to get clever with dinner occasionally, but Pizza and Chicken Nuggets alternate as the special of the day. Hey, at least they are eating.

8. I can go days without washing my hair. I used to wash my hair at least every other day. Now, the shampoo bottle goes untouched for several showers. I am so grateful that my children have taught me that my hair pulled into a bun on my head will look the same whether my hair is clean or dirty, giving us more time for Lego castle building.

7. Paper towels are fucking genius. I wanted to be more eco-friendly than I am, but I use a dozen rolls of these little jewels daily. Whether I am wiping hands or the juice off the floor, my children have advised that I keep a significant stock available.

6. The alphabets song can be used in several ways to pass the time. Conley loves his letters! He does the traditional ABC song, but then will do them phonetically. Or do a word that begins with each letter. He will sing or say it, dance or zone out. When in doubt, call out a letter and let the fun begin.

5. 4 AM feedings are a good time to talk to God. The house is quiet. All 3 boys are snuggled in bed with me. There is the blue glow of the moonlight flirting with the sunrise and my youngest is sucking my breast in his sleep. I can't help but reach out to the Source of All in a prayer of gratitude. THIS IS WHAT IT IS ALL ABOUT.

4. I love to write. Writing was something I always wanted to do, but I either couldn't find time or would judge myself so viciously that I wouldn't even begin. My children have taught me that my passion is writing. It's the first thing I do when the boys go down for a nap or when I have "free" time.  I am so grateful that they have given me my voice.

3. They listen to every single fucking word I say so I better not say fuck. I have learned to be a lady because my children have echoed back to me in their sweet voices my sailor's vocabulary. I have cleaned it up, thanks to our mini-me's.

2. Nothing is more beautiful than Conley's voice saying "I wuv you, Mom. I am so happy to see you." What more do I say?

1. I married the right guy. My children constantly reinforce the fact that I am married to a wonderful man. My husband will take the kids and spend the day at the park with them. He will walk my oldest to the deli so that they can buy flowers for me. My boys will be gentlemen because I am married to one. I glow with gratitude for this lesson.

My Top Ten
Is it David Letterman ready?? Probably not.
I just wanted to express my soft heart of gratitude this morning.

Enjoy the weekend.

The Sins of the Mother...

I may struggle through this post.

I have a lump in my throat and my heart hurts a little.

But I came to a realization a few moments ago that has got me spinning (and I DEFINITELY don't mean the exercise class).

MY OLDEST SON IS JUST LIKE ME.

And I am so sad about it.

OK. Here's what I mean.

First of all, you look at my 2 year old and he is me, only 37 years younger, a small child and a boy. He has my eyes, (only, I missed out on the mile long lashes) and my coloring. (poor child will be investing in SPF's) The blonde hair could be a phase, but I have a feeling he will not have to pay to have his hair high-lighted like his mommy's. He looks like me and I will say this with sincere humility, he's beautiful. So when I look at that face when he is frustrated, sad or angry, I absolutely see me staring me in the face.

I have never had an understanding of some simple things in life. Things like the shortest and most direct path is usually the best route, it is necessary to read the fine print, and adding a throw pillow can brighten up a room. I get frustrated with technology and want to scream when putting something together from IKEA. It's a very immature frustration that I experience. I want to throw things and stomp my feet. I don't like to do things I don't know how to do which means I don't do much. This condition is beginning to show up in my son.

He talks to inanimate objects. Not like his cars or stuffed animals where the occasional conversation is warranted, but his blocks and legos and if they don't do what he asks them to do ("you stay right here. don't fall down"), he will throw them and stomp away, destroying his castle/tower/high rise. He will get mad at drawers and yell at the refrigerator. These things just aren't doing what he wants them to do. And I think he knows that he is in control of them so that means HE CAN'T MAKE THEM WORK. This is how I feel. I am unable to make "things" work for my benefit. I have often wondered if everyone else was given an "how to" manual at birth and I was somehow forgotten. I have to ask for help ALL OF THE TIME and it is so crushing to my precious ego.

Unlike me, my son is very proficient on the computer. It's quite scary, actually, how good he is. But if he comes across a new game or something where he is not "getting it" right away and I ask him if I can help, he will promptly say, "no, I do it myself," fighting back tears. Within a few seconds, he will tap the Mac mouse with his pointer finger in frustration and we have to walk away from the computer and distract with a game of baseball. Who am I kidding?

Earlier today, we were playing T-Ball with a new plastic T-Ball set.  My number one son in his Pull-Up was quite excited about his new toy. Thank God, I did not have to assemble anything as this would soar me into a high blood pressure and sweat situation. One piece into the other and done. I chatted with him about how important it was to look both in front and behind of ourselves when we are going to swing a bat (he had already injured his brother this morning. I wasn't in the mood for more) and to keep our eye on the ball. Now, I think anyone in my family that is reading this is already laughing. I do not play sports. I can not play sports. I LOVE them, but wow, I am not athletic. The equivalent of a dog buying lipstick, just not happening. But I have a secret hope that my son excels at them. I want that for him because I was so horrific at anything that had a ball needing to go through, go in, or go over a net, that I avoided parties and recess playtime to divert attention from my lack of coordination.  I don't want that for my boys. I want them to be able to PLAY.
Conley showed no interest in his T-ball set.  He didn't want to know how to hit the ball (and that fact that I was trying to instruct him was somewhat humorous.) He liked swinging the bat. He liked swinging the bat dangerously close to his brother's head. He would set the ball on the tee and swing, ignoring the "hit the ball" concept. Now, he's 2! I get this. But, as I watched him make up his own rules to his new game, I wondered if he was going to be like me. The second I saw that I wasn't going to be good at something, I quit. Sports, honors classes, computers, relationships, art, music...Is he fated to that mentality? Will he not want to practice for fear of being seen as "learning" and not an expert??

I see that insecurity creeping up in him and as many times as I tell him how strong, smart and sensational he is, I can't help but feel he may have a delicate ego and a crushing voice inside of him that tells him he can't do it, whatever "it" is.
I can't even explain how painful this is for me. My minuscule self esteem was the ache of my entire adolescence and when I carried it into adulthood, it grayed my opportunities. And the one thing I wanted to not be passed in the DNA was this frail, precious ego and its partner, insidious insecurity. Has it already happened?

And then, there's number 2 son. He is the exact opposite. The child can't speak or walk yet and you can already tell that he is just going to bulldoze his way though life. He will point at an object and grunt or scream until he gets it. He crawls so fast, he looks like one of the NYC cockroaches, making a run for it. He is completely focused and determined with every move.   Funny enough, he looks exactly like my husband.
My husband.
A man who lives on the opposite spectrum of insecurity. He KNOWS if he tries something, he will succeed. He could see the route to a touchdown when he was passed the ball and the basketball hoop was more like a hula hoop when he took a shot. He could get A's in his sleep and got into a major MBA program while sleeping through the GMAT. He is the water to my oil.
And Thank God for this! Whatever insecurity I passed along, Daniel is responsible for their confidence. He just seems to look at life with an "I got this" attitude. Holden is absolutely riding the same train. There is no slide he can't climb or ball he can't throw. He is mad when you don't give him utensils with his food because he has already mastered them. He is 14 months. Now, he's not walking yet, but apparently, that's my fault because I didn't walk until I was 16 months. I'm almost grateful because he'll walk himself right down to 44th and Park and get himself a job as soon as those feet get moving. He's a Leo and so full of himself, my little actor (wait, that's something else I passed down...) I just don't think I'm going to have to worry about him. Conley, my fair angel, I'm not so sure...

I know that I was just a vehicle for these monkeys to come into the world and that I am not responsible for the curriculum they came here to learn, but it's hard not to want to protect them from anything that might cause them the slightest bit of pain. Especially when the enemy may be the one inside their head.

I just have to trust that they will learn from both parents the art of life, the brush strokes of love and adventure. That our example will fill them with hope and security. That's my prayer, anyway.

Crummy Crumbs

I was a crap roommate. I wasn't much for sharing. I had to be told when it was my turn to buy stuff, to clean stuff, to trash stuff. If a light bulb went out, I wasn't in a hurry to change it. It was never out of spite or malice. You could call it spoiled, you could call it lazy. My husband called it, "a travesty." It took me a while to get the hang of things when I was first co-habitating with the father of my children.  With someone coming to clean the apartment twice a month (I'm aware of how lucky I am for this),  I was not one for dusting in between shifts. I admit it. I TIDY. I don't clean. But since becoming a mother, I have had to learn to take better care by using the occasional Lysol product. If I don't take time to pamper our home a bit, our sweet little apartment becomes a rave for roaches. Vacuums are my friends and I can never buy enough paper towels. I find myself scrubbing the counters and washing the floors without a problem. But one thing I just can't get the hang of, I totally don't understand. It doesn't matter how hard I scrub or how many times a day I do it. 2 things will remain a mystery to me.

1. THE MAGNETIC FORCE ATTRACTING FOOD AND CRUMBS INSIDE THE CREVICES OF MY CHILD'S HIGH CHAIR, MAKING IT THE MOST DISGUSTING THING ON THE PLANET.
2. WHY CAN'T I KEEP THE FOOD OFF MY CHILD'S FACE, EVEN AFTER WIPING IT OFF? IT'S GONE ONE MINUTE, BUT BACK THE NEXT.

Let's discuss the high chair situation. It's amazing, really. I could scrub that thing until my knuckles bleed and it still won't be clean. I have found incredible morsels stuck in the cracks of my monkey's chair. A raisin smeared with avocado and applesauce, followed by cookie doused in marinara. Where does it all come from?? I mean, my child can't miss his mouth that much, can he?
Apparently, so.
We've gotten to where we have to actually hose down the high chair with the garden hose. We are not opposed to using this method to clean the boys, either. I'm at a loss with them, too. I wipe their sweet cheeks with a paper towel or a wash cloth. Still, the jelly from the morning toast re-appears before afternoon lunch. I have even wiped just a little too hard leaving a nice rouge and STILL...it's back.
And after a popsicle, forget about it.
We were having dinner poolside with relatives one night and Conley's uncle was amazed that I could just leave the pasta sauce stain on Conley's face.
My response..
"What? We are at a pool, right? It will wash off, eventually. And if the chlorine is unsuccessful, we will attempt to remove it at bath time and if that doesn't work, well then, thank God he's cute, right?!"

I often wonder if this is my bad roommate karma coming to get me.

I never scrubbed the cracks or removed the stains as a single girl in LA.
As a married mother of two in NYC,  I have never known crumbs this intimately.

But these crumbs mock me. They taunt me. "You will never get rid of us. You will feel like you are failing as a mother because we will always come back. Always."

I know it sounds dramatic, but my battle with the cracker and cookie crumbs is one I have to gear up to face every day. I arm myself with paper towels and sponges every morning, hoping that the morsels I removed the night before have not magically appeared to mock me again. I must focus on my child's sparkly eyes, not his sticky chin.
I look forward to a day when I am not responsible for the stains on their faces or the crumbs in their chairs.

Oh, who am I kidding?

They are adorably messy and in a time in the not-so-distant future, I will long for the days when I got to look into those cherub faces as I wiped them clean. Or the taste of grape jelly after a smooch on the cheek.

So go on crumbs, mock away. And someday when you think you are lost forever in the recesses in the high chair...BAM...you will be mine.