Please don't lick the rock...

After living on this earth for nearly 37 years and having had the privilege to have seen and experienced so much, I would have to say after 18 months in my role as MOM, that becoming a parent exposes you to situations that you never even considered as possibilities. It is truly amazing that many of my inhibitions and before-child notions have faded and been replaced by more useful and primitive impulses. Here are a few that come to mind:

Did I ever think I would be wiping my son's boogers from his nose at the playground and unprepared without tissues end up wiping them on my own sleeve?

Did I ever think I would sing in public or hop around like a frog only to do it every week during Cole's music class?

Did I ever imagine that I could read the same book over and over and over and over when I won't even watch the same movie twice?

Did I ever imagine that I would spit into Cole's hand at the park to help wash the dirt away from a new "ouchy"?

Did I ever believe I would voluntarily offer to clean up the poop from the bathtub mishap rather than cook dinner?

Did I ever believe I would be saying such things as "please don't lick the rock"?

Like father like son...

Below is a picture of Dave as a kid, age unknown. No doubt here that they are father and son! They even BOTH have one ear bigger than the other. Factor in the wispy blond hair, the shape of their nose and voila, the magic of DNA shows itself!

Appreciation...

After what can be described as the LONGGGGGEST winter here in Minnesota, I believe we are finally welcoming spring. I hesitate slightly since this month for the most part has proven otherwise but my confidence is greater than ever. Mother Nature has decided it is our time.

The landscape looking out our window shows the bright neon green of new growth, the little tree buds are reaching up towards the warming sun, the ferns are uncurling from their tight bundled coils, the hydrangea bushes are spouting new leaves and the lilacs are in bloom releasing their sweet scent.

Cole and I have been couped up all winter and though we managed to stay active and busy there is something undeniable about being outside. Fresh air does wonders for the soul.

Spring has opened a whole new world to Cole who wasn't even walking when our first snow fell last fall. Now he can explore to his heart's content. His curiosity is insatiable. He wants to touch the trees and the grass and pick up sticks, rocks, mud clumps and dandelions which he promptly places into his dump truck. He is fascinated with the hose and the watering can as he loves to put his hands under falling water. He "helps" push the wheelbarrow and sweep the broom.

His eyes dart around as he comes out the door. It is like a big playground and he gets so excited. I love to sit on the step and watch him run around with the warm breeze ruffling his hair. As little boys do, he can get dirty just stepping into the yard, add in a few stops to pick up rocks, a few rests atop the pollen laden pavers and a fall or two into the mulch and voila, we have a smudged face and filthy hands and clothes worthy of a SHOUT IT OUT commercial. As a well known clean freak, I thought it would drive me nuts but just the opposite has occurred. I have embraced the fact that getting dirty lets you enjoy life, another lesson that my son (and dog) have taught ME.

So thanks to our delayed spring and my little boy who have shown me how to appreciate the delight in seeing things for the very first time, again!

Just a mom...

I am sure many of you have received the "story" that comes at the end of my dialogue. As we approach Mother's Day I thought it was most appropriate to make it the theme of this week's post. I know I have felt over the past 17 months the unnecessary sting of answering an inquiry about what I do for a living. The first time the question was casually thrown my way was my first dinner party following Cole's birth. It came from a woman who I didn't know at all. I remember vividly my awkward pause and my feeble response of "I'm a stay at home mom".

The woman who had no children of her own politely said "oh that's nice" which was followed by dreadful silence. I felt my face go hot and my mind swirled attempting damage control of the conversation. I mustered up the courage to volley back the same question and she went on for what seemed like ten minutes about her architectural firm. I couldn't extricate myself fast enough to regroup and find my feet again.

Why had I felt so indistinct and lame when I was posed this common question? Here I was doing the most revered job of all and yet I felt ostracized at the same time. I swore to myself that the next time this came up I would be proud of my new status and state with confidence that I was a MOM. I shouldn't care what a stranger or random individual thought of my job title, I hadn't cared before so why now? I have pondered this and realized that motherhood was a new territory for me and in my fledgling months, everything about it seemed such an out of body experience, I was working in automatic survival mode. Eventually I did have time to think again and I then had trouble understanding these raw emotions as they tumbled over one another. My world had been affected in every way and that included my grasping the meaning of my new identity.

Since that time, I have found my "new" solid ground. The soil isn't always firm and thus I lose my footing and trip up but I brush myself off and journey through that day's maze. When asked during a recent event for Dave's company "so what do you do for work?", I answered with poise and composure, "I'm a stay at home mom to our son, Cole". It has taken me some time to acknowledge how important staying at home with Cole has been but the wisdom has come. With wisdom comes strength. With strength comes pride. I am proud to be Cole's mom and oh so lucky.

Happy Mother's Day to all of those who are more than JUST A MOM!!!



A woman renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk 's office,
was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation.

She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.

What I mean is, explained the recorder,
do you have a job or are you just a ...?'

Of course I have a job,' snapped the woman.

I'm a Mom.

We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation,'housewife' covers it,
Said the recorder emphatically.

I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself
in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall.
The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised,
efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like,
'Official Interrogator' or 'Town Registrar.'

What is your occupation? she probed.

What made me say it? I do not know.
The words simply popped out.
'I'm a Research Associate in the field of
Child Development and Human Relations.'

The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and
looked up as though she had not heard right.

I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words.
Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written,
in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.

Might I ask, said the clerk with new interest, just what you do in your field?

Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice,
I heard myself reply,
'I have a continuing program of research,
(what mother doesn't)
In the laboratory and in the field,
(normally I would have said indoors and out).
I'm working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family)
and already have four credits (all daughters).
Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities,
(any mother care to disagree?)
and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it).
But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers
and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money.'

There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she
completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.

As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career,
I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3.
Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model,
(a 6 month old baby) in the child development program,
testing out a new vocal pattern.
I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy!
And I had gone on the official records as someone more
distinguished and indispensable to mankind than 'just another Mom.'

Signs of Cole...

Here are few street and business signs that friends and family have sent me with my little guy's name on it. I have had NO, nada, zero, zilch time to draft a worthwhile post this week so some filler text and photos will have to do. I had kept a file of these pictures not ever thinking to use them here but here ya go!

Contemplation...

To contemplate is defined by Webster's as "to look at or view with continued attention; observe thoughtfully; reflect upon; consider deliberately".

At one time in my not so distance past I used to contemplate quite often while running or walking Tucker or while just sitting outside enjoying pleasant weather. Those times would allow me to focus on one idea or thought instead of the thousands that continually play ping pong in my brain and cause me to be restless 90% of my waking hours. I could also become fully engaged with the time and place that I was in wherever that might be. These instances would slow my mind from wandering into the future where it normally was planted or from trying to digest the scattered pieces of this thing or that. I would return refreshed and less stressed if only for a brief hour or so.

One of the obstacles I have found myself dealing with as a stay at home mom to Cole who is demanding of my attention nearly 16 hours a day is the lack of time I have to just be. Just be alone, just be with my thoughts, just be me! Having very limited personal space both physically and emotionally takes its toll. I have sacrificed many things in order to be the best mom I know how to be. I do that without regret. But that doesn't mean that I don't miss some of the simple freedoms I had before I took on the responsibility of motherhood.

I wish I had more time to sit and ponder (or just sit really!) It is hard to do that when you have to fit it into an unpredictable day with a 17 month old who races around exploring every corner of every room finding trouble where I thought there wasn't any and only naps one hour a day. I realize I should just take that hour to myself but it is so hard to do that when all the other "things" that are on the TO DO list taunt me. I have never been strong at relaxing (unless I'm on a beach). Cole begins Montessori next week and I should be reveling in the "free time" it will give me. I sit here writing this post about wanting to contemplate more and yet I have already created a task list for things that I want to do around the house that are nearly impossible to do with curious Cole shadowing my every move.

I need to find my personal balance again and use the opportunity of Cole beginning school as the catalyst for doing so. It is important to my well being to find that as our routine changes. My problem is that I feel guilty for thinking about taking eighteen hours a week "off" for a month or so, gloriously six uninterrupted hours a day three days a week. It makes me sound (and feel) like a lazy blob. I know it is well earned after spending the past year and half working overtime but my need for purpose and agenda consumes my desire to sit around and read a book, catch some sun or go for a run returning to take a leisurely shower. So I have to shake the guilt and as NIKE would say JUST DO IT and spend some time just musing again.

P.S. The picture of Cole with this POST gave me the impetus to write about this topic. I learn something from him every day. I am blessed and oh so lucky to have him as my teacher in life.

We are what we eat...

The title of this BLOG post is an ad motto that has been around for ages and yet it is more pertinent today than ever. There are so many more options today for what we put into our bodies to eat than when I was kid. Thirty some years ago, junk food and sweets existed but the amount of choices for choosing what we eat certainly did not equal the shelves upon shelves of packages consumers find themselves perusing now. Grocery stores were half the size of the towering Super Targets that I routinely frequent.

What I remember about food growing up is home cooked meals and a family sit down dinner every night. I never liked vegetables and though I have added many of them to my diet over the years, I still shy away from most that are green. Mom prepared us three meals a day, packing our lunch pails with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or in my case, butter sandwiches (was margarine even on the market then??), crusts or no crusts I can't recall. We loved going to Goodnoe's for ice cream cones and enjoyed frozen hershey kisses when we visited Grandma and Grandpa amongst my multiple other favorites, Carvel ice cream cakes and Dairy Queen softserve with the chocolate shell. I don't have a recollection of what I ate being at all a big deal. We ate, we grew, we thrived.

Now becoming a parent and being the "chef" for a toddler has been complicated by the varied studies that what we put into our babe's mouths have proven consequences and not all positive. In a rush to find out why various medical, cognitive and developmental delays rates have risen, research is growing (and showing) that the ingredients in what we consume do matter especially in little ones with their brain cells still forming. Too many residues in their foods can alter their body's ability to absorb the good nutrients. So the more I hear about this preservative and that additive and the potential detriments they cause, the more it poses an everyday conundrum as to what to purchase, prepare and feed Cole.

We had decided when Cole began eating solids to offer a range of foods. The more introduced to him early on the less apt he would become a picky eater later or so we hope. As I found myself buying items outside of the designated baby food aisle, I found myself reading labels more carefully. I bought organic produce and fruit most of the time because they were grown without pesticides. It was not that much more expensive surprisingly. It was when I began to expand his menu and add in finger foods and snacks is when the challenge began. Most of the boxes of cereal or crackers that were marked "natural" and/or "healthy" were far from it. "No trans fat" has been the tag line for many vendors trying to woo shoppers. That is a start but there are far more dire artificial elements in most packaged foods that lurk inconspicuously on the label. So I began shopping more often at Whole Foods and local organic stores for prepared goods. As I mentioned earlier, the difference in cost of buying organic produce versus non-organic was not that great. The difference in price when buying organic cereals and the like was significant however the more I considered the return on my investment the more I began spending the extra cash.

Our cupboards now host many products without high fructose corn syrup, without enriched white flour, without colorings and ingredients I can't spell let alone pronounce. We have found that many morsels taste better without all the "stuff". That "stuff" may give my pantry items a longer shelf life but if something needs chemicals to make it last longer then maybe it shouldn't be in the pantry at all?

Don't' get me wrong, Dave and I have had to retool our palates after years of Doritos, Sugar Smacks and Reeses Peanut Butter cups and we do still indulge ourselves with our favorites but we find ourselves noshing on many of the things that Cole eats and acknowledge that we too should be putting our mouths where we preach. We need to lead by example.

Of course, as a child learning about his own taste buds Cole will be allowed to sample almost anything he wishes with the understanding that those "treats" are for special occasions not daily consumption. I want him to appreciate that what he puts into his body is in essence what gives him the fuel to leap, climb, run and learn. However, I do want him to have memories of visits to the ice cream parlor, licking the insides of an Oreo cookie, chomping on REAL hot dogs while attending baseball games and eating gooey cotton candy at the state fair too!

Yes, the milk still runneth...

Yes folks, Cole is almost 16-months-old and we are still nursing. I didn't have a breastfeeding plan when we started other than to hope that I was able to even do it. I have astounded myself that it remains a part of our daily routine.

Cole never followed the "norm" for much of anything during his first year. He took bottles of pumped milk until he was about 5 months and then quit cold turkey on them despite my attempt at trying nearly every bottle on the market. We tried a vast array of formulas too to no avail. So I accepted the challenge to continue providing him with what I felt was the best for him, my milk. As long as I was able to produce the quantity that was necessary to help him grow I would continue to breastfeed. If my body decided otherwise then I would cross that bridge.

As we approached his first birthday, we began introducing cow's milk in his sippy cup which he promptly shoved away again and again over weeks and weeks of offering it. We finally opted to try an alternative and he accepted the soy milk in small doses. He was not drinking enough however to cut back on nursing until he was about 13 months.

Breastfeeding a young toddler is quite different than breastfeeding a small baby. For starters Cole would do acrobatics while nursing if he could. He is so long that it is quite a feat at times to maintain my patience as he karate kicks his feet over and over, flaps his arms like a bird taking flight, and wiggles his body around like a restless puppy all the while latched on sucking away. He normally settles down within 10 minutes but it can be a long ten minutes as I wrestle with him praying he won't turn the wrong way while attached and thus pull me with him.

We are down to two nursings a day, one in the morning and one before bed with the occasional third to mitigate a meltdown or to comfort my fussy teether. It is an instant soothing option for him (and me) when we are having a tough time. It makes parenting him on a bad day a bit easier. It is a tool in my mom arsenal that I will be reluctant to retire. Nursing only occurs in his nursery. It is our private place and moment. I decided on those parameters so that he would not be demanding feedings anywhere else.

Unfortunately, I am starting to feel the stigma that surrounds breastfeeding an older baby. I get the comment sometimes (that comes with the raised eyebrow or perplexed eye twitch), Oh, you are still nursing? People seem so surprised and quickly change the subject. I just think Cole is not yet ready to give up the breast. I notice he still has a need to suck and he does not use a bottle, pacifier, finger or thumb. It is a very natural calming mechanism and/or reflex and to prematurely wean him for no reason other than my convenience would be selfish. It has been a very surreal experience to be in such the breastfeeding minority. I know if we lived in Europe it would not be such a rare demonstration and yet I find myself awkwardly making excuses for why I am still doing it when it comes up in conversation.

There are many things I never expected to experience or feel as a first time mom. One of them is the bond I have formed with Cole through breastfeeding. It has allowed me to exercise the most natural gift I possess. I love holding his hand as he kneads mine. I smile silently to myself as I inhale the scent of his head, as I observe his facial expressions relax, listen to his breathe slow and soften and nestle as his body curls around mine. These moments are one of a kind and I want to etch them into my memory for eternity.

Cole runs around at mock ten all day long and though I enjoy the fact that he is very much a physical little boy making the most of his abilities, I revel in the continued opportunity to hold him close. Soon enough he will no longer need me in this way and I will be happy for him as it will indicate his maturing development. However, I will mourn the loss as that chapter with him comes to an end.

Change is in the air...

May 1st is less than six weeks away and I am feeling anxious about that. I have spent the past 16 months spending more time with Cole than anyone else in my almost 37 years. I have acted as his playmate, his chef, his stylist, his chauffeur, his librarian, his housekeeper, his nurse but most importantly as his steady companion.

It has been much to my surprise how becoming a mom has fundamentally changed my entire outlook on life. To explain my existence now in words is at times impossible as the emotions and deep bond are just too complex to organize into simple declarations.

I have been beyond lucky to be able to have stayed home with him and formed such a consistent presence in his life. That stated, my apprehension grows as the date approaches for Cole to begin his toddler Montessori program three days a week. My fears have begun to sprout like weeds and for a few moments every day I begin to question my/our decision to enter Cole at OMS. No one knows Cole like I do and that is a blessing and a curse for me. I find myself with a litany of concerns as we enter this new territory. My fierce protective mothering nature is going into overdrive. How will he be without me for hours as some days lately he can't seem to get enough of me? How will he adjust to THEIR naptime, not his? How will he be eating with and around other children? How will they discipline him when he doesn't want to share? Will they sing to him when they change his diaper like I do? Will they hold his little hand and smooch his tears away when he hurts himself? Will he thrive under the Montessori method and constructs or will it be too different than what he has become accustomed too?

So many of the things I have come to take for granted as we interact every day will change for him. I know this is vital for his continuing development but as his mommy it frightens me and makes me sad. The separation will be harder on me than him without a doubt. It is the beginning of making the thousand of choices that are in his best interest but require a release of control on my part.

So my uneasiness needs to take a backseat regardless of how valid my feelings are. His future caregivers come highly recommended and my various visits to the school have never been awkward or left me concerned on any level. It is time for Cole to be exposed to a new environment, to have fresh experiences, to make new friends and learn about his world outside of his mother's eyes. I have done my very best in providing a creative, sensory, variable and challenging "playground" but my capabilities only allow for one vision and my/our wish is to offer Cole as many as we can until he is able to uniquely formulate his own.

My mom togs...

I used to pride myself on dressing well and stylishly whether I was out for a casual dinner with friends, professionally attired for work or just out running errands. It is amazing how having a baby/toddler has changed my approach to what I wear in 15 months time.

In years past I spent money on Ann Taylor suits,leather shoes and fashionable jewelry. My weekend jaunts to the suburbs were for finding steals on designer clothes at TJ Maxx and Marshalls. Now my once relatively hip closet is full of cargo pants, cords and jeans with a vast assortment of machine washable t-shirts and fleeces.

Thus I have a collection of perfectly beautiful clothes stashed away in storage. I struggle with what to keep (or more appropriately with what still fits)in hopes that someday I can wear some of my pre-Cole wardrobe again.

The upside to my cotton and polyester switch is that our dry cleaning bills have been drastically slashed and are solely as a result of Dave's needs not mine. I rarely wear cashmere sweaters or anything silk as I normally have a shoulder of snot stains where Cole nuzzled after a tantrum and/or sticky fingerprint smears on my sleeves.

I told myself when I was pregnant that I would not get caught in the sweatshirt and gym pants "mommy look" and I have kept that promise. I did not want to let myself drop to the level of actually looking like I had a baby at home who has me running on fumes most days. I rationalize that only other moms can recognize the dried bits of carrots and peas and snail trails of mucous on my top that have me looking like an odd art project. I used to check for telltale stains before leaving to run errands as I normally had to grab a washcloth to wipe away what I could without changing. Now I don't bother half of the time as getting out the door is challenging enough. Occasionally while walking in Target, I'll catch a glimpse of myself in a glass case or long mirror and find a yogurt dappled handprint on the back of my pants. Months ago I would be mortified, now I just shrug and keep to my task list knowing I have limited time before Cole fidgets his way sideways in the cart and begins reaching for objects on the shelves. My priorities have shifted and getting errands done in record time is way more vital than worrying about what complete strangers think of my spotted apparel.

Catching Cole...

Cole is nearly impossible to capture on camera since he is in constant motion. I have to be able to walk backwards, sideways and leap over small objects blindly in order to take photos or record any video clip of him. It is like completing an obstacle course. I have a whole new resume of life skills since Cole became mobile. My reward is catching him in a random moment to share with you all. Here is one of him where he was slowed down by the body to boot ratio! Enjoy!

Spotlight on Cole...

Awhile back after a discussion with my mom friends during our weekly playgroup about professional photos of our wee ones I began to feel guilt lurking in the parental lobe of my brain. I had never signed up at any of the typical venues for the 3, 6, 9, 12 month photo packages. Dave and I have taken hundreds of candids with our beloved digital camera and up until now I had felt confident that we captured many of the moments, expressions and personality of our lil guy!

That said, I began to feel that maybe it was time to have Cole sit (HA HA!!) for a session especially since he has so much character and had reached his first milestone birthday. My hope was twofold, that having someone else photograph Cole would reveal a special alternative to the everyday photos I was used to taking AND in the process it would quell the silly guilt I was experiencing for not previously shelling out the cash for quarterly formal images.

With this on my TO DO list, and as always with a new endeavor I did my due diligence, researched several studios and found a photographer whose portfolio was in sync with my vision of more artistic and random photos of Cole rather than the posed versions that were common for his age group.

I was apprehensive that Cole would not be a cooperative subject as he rarely remains in one place for more than two seconds and prefers to meander when in a new environment. Surprisingly despite Cole being quite a crab apple and clinging to me like a monkey for the first fifteen minutes, Jennifer and her wonderful staff who were familiar with the unpredictable nature of an independent toddler managed to get Cole comfortable and thus he was able to show his many faces. Ultimately though Cole controlled the shoot and did what he wanted when he wanted. As you can see he is STANDING on the bench rather than sitting which he hasn't done since he began crawling. So I crouched off to the side so I could react if he teetered too close to the edge and chased him around most of our hour with our photog!