Judgment Day

I was just thinking to myself the other day how one big benefit to having kids who are a bit older is that there seems to be a decrease in the amount of judgement - expressed or perceived - as they grow and thrive and become civilized people, more or less, in view of the general public.  Entering Target recently, I had a sudden flashback to a judgement I'd received some years before when Pax was just 2 weeks old (and I was in the throes of of post-partum depression) and I was accosted by a woman who was offended by the pro-choice bumper sticker on my mother's car.  Never mind the irony - me, with a newborn baby in arms; a car that wasn't even mine - while she cast her judgement upon me, the exchange ending with the mutual promise that we would pray for one another.  The baby days list of judgments goes on and on, but in the older kid days, the list is much shorter.

Until this morning.

After dropping off Aidan and Leo at golf camp for one hour of time away from me and somewhat away from each other, I loaded Pax into the jogging stroller and set out, desperate - absolutely desperate - to rid myself of the frustration, anger, and sadness I felt simmering, threatening to boil inside me.  Yesterday had been an endless cycle of taunting and teasing, tattletaling, and throwing punches.  I'd refereed all day long, was exhausted and out of patience.  I felt guilty at the end of the night because I wasn't handling my own emotions well, and I was angry and frustrated with the kids.  And so, despite the misty rain falling and humidity near 100%; I knew I had to rid myself from the negative energy that was consuming me; I set out on the longest run I could manage in the remaining time I had.

We set out and I started to take one of my usual routes - until we neared a playground and I had a stroke of genius.  Instead of pushing 30+ pounds of weight and worrying about every oncoming car that would pass us on the narrow, 2 lane route, I decided, instead, to park Pax on the edge of the less-than-quarter mile track that encompasses a baseball diamond where I could run without having to push him and he could sit, content to watch PBS Kids on my iphone, in full view of me and in easy hearing distance. 

We were the only ones there for the first 10 minutes; then two maintenance trucks pulled up.  I went on high alert, watching carefully, assessing the situation.  Suddenly, a third car, an earth-friendly little Prius pulled up, wasting no time with a parking spot and instead parking helter-skelter across the spaces.  A grandmother-aged woman jumps out and hollers at me as I was rounding the corner nearest Pax, "What do you think you are doing, leaving your BABY in that stroller like that?"  I paused, trying to calm the adrenaline that had built up in my run, and said calmly "Yes, my four and a half year old is in that stroller..." She began ranting at me, gesturing her arms and saying, "You are unbelievable!  I cannot believe you would just leave him while you're blahblahblahblah..." (I cannot even think of what she said because I was so consumed with her judgement.)

I responded in a way that I instantly regretted.  "Screw you," I said as I unlocked the brakes on the stroller wheels.  "I don't have time for this shit."  She responded, "You don't have time for this? You want me to call the cops?"  "Go ahead," I said more evenly this time.  And ran off.  I ran for half an hour longer, thinking of better responses, more appropriate ones, kinder ones.  And I burned with anger and frustration at being so unfairly judged.

Clearly, I failed.  I failed to handle the situation with grace and kindness, failed to turn the moment into a teachable one.  But she failed me, too.  She looked at me and assumed to know me, know my kid, know my situation.  She failed to see that I was gasping for air, that I was desperately trying to put on my own oxygen mask, as the saying goes, before helping those around me.  She failed to see me working out my anger and frustration so that I didn't spend the day taking that same anger and frustration out on my kid who was safely parked in the stroller nearby, no further away from me than when I take him to that very same playground to play in the open field or sprawling equipment.  She failed to see the risk-benefit analysis I'd conducted in my head, failed to know of my plan of action should I feel threatened by anyone or anything, failed to understand how much deliberation went into my decision making.  In assuming me to be Worst Mom Ever, she failed to see how hard I was working to get back to being the best mom I can be for my kids....

I cannot change what I said or did, but I can take this experience and remind myself of it the next time I find myself unfairly wielding judgement against another.  A mom "checked out" on her iphone? might be taking 5 minutes to calm herself down rather than rail on her kids again.  A mom buying Doritos and pop tarts, soda and candy with 3 kids in tow? might be going on vacation when these are the only time these treats are purchased.  A dad not wanting to push his kid on the swing, preferring to sit on a bench instead? might be reeling from terrible news received, and chose the playground over parking his kid in front of the screen.  

And I hope that the next time someone sees me running, with my kid or kids nearby, they look at me and think, huh.  There's a mama working hard to keep herself healthy - body, mind, spirit.  There's a mama who shows her kids it's important to take care of herself, her own needs.  That when you feel angry, you need to get it out. That it's okay to run when there are tears streaming down your face, if that's what's going to make the tears stop.  I hope they see a mama who is trying - desperately trying - to be her best self for her kids.  Even if it looks different to you than what you think it should look like.

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(I'm not editing or revising this.  This is raw and posted straight away.)

Last Days

Schooooooools out. for. SUMMER!  Schooooools out. for. EVER!!!  Is it any wonder that the last day of school is such an awesome feeling, with Alice Cooper's rockin' song a permanent earworm in our collective minds?

Pax bid farewell to his preschool teacher who so lovingly guided him through his fits of anger, his frustrations, and his tendency to draw himself in, and was rewarded with many displays of his warm and affectionate, truer - yet more guarded - personality.  I absolutely *love* that he rewarded us with his "showman" pose, complete with a ta da!!  He never does this when prompted or asked; only when the spirit moves him....

We enjoyed one final picnic at church together.  Every Tuesday and Thursday, for the entire school year, Pax and I have shared lunch together on the floor of my little office, on this blanket.  He is going to a different preschool next year, and I will sorely miss this most lovely tradition.

Another tradition grew from our office picnics; our beloved office manager, Ms. Nancy, managed to have a treat of one kind or another stashed in her desk drawer for Pax, after he'd finished his lunch.  On his last day, Nancy's drawer revealed an extra special treat:  cake pops from Starbucks, enough for Pax to share with Nancy, me, and Jeff.

 And then the next day, it was The End of 4th grade for Aidan, The End of 1st grade for Leo.  They both reported having wonderful last days of school.

(In case The End hadn't gone so well, I created some "insurance" for myself on my last morning with Just Pax.  We, along with my girl Clancy, headed to the beach with a cooler of mimosa fixins, plus a bunch of snacks.... which might just be my most favorite New Tradition ever.)

May Days

May is a roller coaster month, a month filled with anticipation of birthdays and the end of school mingled with the sense of feeling out of control, as strict daytime routines give way to lazier, less structured days of summer.  We bid farewell to teachers; we learn to savor, all over again, the heady days of sunshine and blue skies.  It's a month that makes us feel like we're on top of the world one minute... only to discover ourselves scrambling to make it to the top of the next hurdle, the next jam-packed day, the next.  I hate the word "busy," and it's one I'm trying to eliminate - both using and feeling.  And so, on this last day of a roller coaster month, I'm looking forward to more time and more space.  More time with my kids... more time in this space, re-prioritizing, letting go, honing in on what really matters here.  I slogged through much of April and early May, feeling too busy and forgetting to get lost in the clouds. But I was delighted to discover, in retrospect, some really beautiful moments I managed to capture in a photo.  Like I always think about the photos I take, some are actually pretty decent pics.  But most of them are simply the visual reminder of a beautiful memory that may otherwise be forgotten, the feeling that motivated me to snap the shot more than the end result, capturing the process, not worrying about the product....

Aidan 

Leo 

Pax 

Aidan

Aidan turned TEN this month.  One decade old.  I find this to be simply amazing, in and of itself.

Tiny and grand moments of this month include...

These awesome ewoks Aidan constructed all on his own after reading an origami Star Wars book.  I love his creative streak.

 Aidan's piano lessons drew to a close this month as we enjoyed his second piano recital.  In the fall, he'll be in the 5th grade band as a .... TRUMPET player!

 Pax and Aidan have a relationship that may best be described as hot and cold.  In this lovely Tuesday afternoon while Leo was at gymnastics, Aidan and Pax had a wonderful time in the company of each other.

 Continuing as Master Chef, Aidan planned the meal himself, then made dijon chicken, roasted broccoli, corn on the cob, and buttered noodles.  My contribution?  I cut the watermelon.

 Last weekend, my dad and I formally and officially introduced Aidan to the Indianapolis 500.  My father and I have watched this race together for 25ish years.  It was an incredibly exciting race with the second closest finish in history, and I was delighted to welcome Aidan as the newest true race fan.

 TEN years old hanging on the limbs of his TEN year old Crepe Myrtle:

 Cheers!  11 more years until Aidan's is a Malbec instead of sparkling grape juice.

 With a new decade comes the start of new freedom:  his own kayak.  This is the face of a boy destined to do great things... all aboard this fine sea vessel.

Leo

As Leo's school year drew to a close, we began to see the "true" Leo re-emerge, his even temper, easy manner, and charm lighting up his wiggly-toothed grin.  Leo spent a lot of time in the kitchen with me this month, mastering meatballs, sweet bolognese sauce, and individual pizzas.  He invented a new use for old things when he donned his swim goggles to avoid the tear-inducing oils emitted while cutting onions.  And he has become an absolutely prolific writer.  I was stunned - and thrilled - by both the quality and the quantity of his writing....

Custom-made for his brothers

 Spaghetti bolognese with sweet Italian (turkey) sausage

 Great Grandma Turano's Meatballs (best ever.)

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(All works of writing were auto-corrected by Mom for ease of reading.  These are just a small sampling of the many works by LGC, taken from the beginning, middle, and end of the year.)

Beginning:

This weekend I went to church.  I play with blocks.  I made a card.  I went to the store.

I get mad when Aidan says the same thing over and over.  Because it is annoying.

Fall is wonderful.  I like seeing leaves change colors.  In fall there is Thanksgiving.  Fall is a exciting season.  I like fall.

Middle:

Clouds come in many shapes and sizes.  Some are like silk.  Some are gray.  Some are pictures.  I like the pictures because they are cool.

My little brother loves me so much!  He thinks I'm the coolest thing in the world.  I know he loves me becasue every day I get off the bus, he says "EEEOOOO!!!" 

End:

One day we had a sub and she was an alien.  She tried to use superpowers on us but I pulled out my lightsaber and blocked it.  It was too hard for me.  I couldn't do it alone.  I used the force on her.  Then I called Gabe.  He distracted her and I destroyed her.  Then we told [our teacher].  The End.

What I want to do this summer.  I want to go to California.  I want to go to Myrtle Beach.   I want to go skate boarding.  I want to go bogeyboarding.  I want to do street olympics.  I want to run one mile.  I want to play lacrosse.  I want to play tag.  I want to go fishing.  

Pax

I continue to savor, savor, savor the moments I have with Pax.  It is the easiest to do this, sometimes, because I am so painfully aware of how little time I have left with him under my wing in our nest at home.  I remember so well the preschool trips I took with Aidan and with Leo, how there was always a tag-along brother.   I remember looking forward to the day when all of my focus and attention could be on the one.  And now... that day is here.

Pax makes me laugh, every day.  He is passionate.  He is passionate in how he demonstrates his love and affection for me; he is passionate in how he demonstrates his anger and frustration. I'm learning to sit with him through his fits of rage so that I might guide him back into his squeezy hugs.  Occasionally, he calls me "Mumsy," which I absolutely love.  When I told him how much I liked it, he said, "Just like you sometimes call us Boysies."

Pax's favorite game is to run and hide somewhere in the house, then jump out and yell "Boo!" to whomever is nearby.  His giggles give him away, so there is a lot of feigned surprise in order to make him feel like he's truly scared us.  I like to say to him, "You scared the daylights out of me!"  but one time, I didn't say anything.  He asked, "Did I scare the lightbulbs out of you?"

Recently, Jeff found himself in a conversation with Pax on the topic of boobs(yes, boobs). Jeff asked Pax if he knew what boobs were for.  "Yes," Pax replied.  "It's so mommies won't hurt themselves if they run into something."
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Snapshots of the moments I savor:

...the way he sticks out his tongue a little bit, in concentration and determination.  He is *very* good at throwing a frisbee.

 How much he adores his grandparents.  How Grandpa stopped by one morning and served as the Celebrity Chef, whipping up a plate of scrambled eggs, just the way Pax likes them.

...how lucky Pax is to get to color at Grandma's house, like it's their job.

Field trips: feeding the sweet lamb

 After carefully and painstakingly making his bed, Pax lined up all of his loveys on his bed, and gave each one a toy.

 This boy loves to color.  (the new hardwood floors are a perfect platform).

 P in a Tree - can you spot me?

 Riding on Star, the pony that looks *just* like the pony, Limerick, I used to ride.... even though he was very, very fearful.

 Full of awesome.

 Working so hard on painting a masterpiece for his preschool teacher.

 Cooking up lasagne dinner for the birthday brother... like a boss.  This kid can cook!!

"The ship of my life may or may not sail on calm and amiable seas.  The challenging days of my existence may or may not be bright and promising.  Stormy or sunny days, glorious or lonely nights, I maintain an attitude of gratitude.  If I insist on being pessimistic, there is always tomorrow.  Today, I am blessed."  -Maya Angelou, April 4, 1928 - May 28, 2014.

closing in

Stay tuned for a roundup in the next day or two... in the meantime, here's what everyone's talking about this week:

It's a packed and exciting week, and even includes some extras for me- book club on Tuesday; an Indian curry cooking class (with my mom) on Thursday; and mimosas on the beach on Friday.  Woot!

More soon -

xoxoxo to all my readers.