Intentional Mothering

I've written and rewritten this post four times over the last week.  I'm not sure why it is so hard for me to articulate what has been screaming inside my head.  So, I'm taking a stab at just winging it without framework.

I've been an unequal mother to my boys recently, or perhaps ever since Little Bro came home.  With Little Bug in school for most of the week, Little Bro gets full days of Mommy time.  Little Bug, however, comes home from school and has to share the time he does have with me with his little brother.  I mean, obviously brothers spend time together with their mom.  But Little Bug...that became all the time he got with me, shared time.

Our home life is such that evening schedules are critical and must be done together.  Little Bug needs an early bedtime, he can't occupy himself independently while I put his brother down to bed, and truly, he loves his brother so much that he doesn't want to be without him.  We even do Little Bug's home therapies as a group. Simply put, we function in nearly every moment between school and bedtime as a unit of three.

Before Little Bro came home, I would pick Little Bug up from school and take him out to dinner at least once a week.  There we would sit, just the two of us, watching trains go by and "talking" about our day.  I think back on those moments and realize how special they were, and how much I miss that with Little Bug (I still have it with Little Bro).

When Appa comes home for the weekends, we try to soak up every moment with him and consequently, do very little not as a family unit.  And although this is a good thing, it once again shafts Little Bug from quality one-on-one time.  One of us taking him to the grocery store to relieve the double duty is hardly quality time.

I guess I just realized that Little Bug needs and deserves a little time with his mama without having to share her with anyone else.  I'm shocked at how little of this precious time he has actually gotten in the last months.  It makes me feel really crummy, actually.

But I have two kids and only one me, and the truth is having more than one kid really does make it very hard to have quality time alone.  For me, the first step was realizing one of my kids was getting less and determining what I considered to be (and not to be) quality one-on-one time.  The next step is hardest: actually making the time.  Because for our family, it doesn't come organically.  Little Bro doesn't softly plod off to play some educational game in one room while Little Bug and I can snuggle and whisper secrets to each other or play a game on his terms at his speed.  I have to manufacture an activity for Little Bro and devise another activity removed from Little Bro's activity.  Then I have to sell them both to my kids.

How is that working?  Not super, but I am getting there.  I don't love turning "Jake" on the TV for my 2 year old simply so he will leave me alone for a while. But when I have managed to get Little Bug alone and give him my special attention, he had blossomed.  I attribute it in small part to some of his recent developmental successes, and I have definitely noticed an increase in his affection and desire to snuggle since I've made the effort to give him special time.

This matters.  I can see it in his smile and his eyes and his off-handed or deliberate kisses and hugs.  Having me matters to him.  Even just the five minutes a night where we play a puzzle or take silly pictures on my phone make a difference to him and make him happy.

Sometimes I forget that I am the most important person in my kids' lives.  It seems sort of pompous to go around thinking that you mean more to them than anyone else in the world, but really, it's true.  My five minutes are worth hours of other peoples' time to my sons, and I need to start valuing my time the way they do. Intentionally.

WWTD

It seems like a no-brainer: teach you kids by example.

But sometimes I forget that it extends past the basic "please and thank you" or sharing to those more abstract (and bigger) life lessons, like how to deal with stress or anger.

I am working--hard--on patience.  I used to think I had a ton of it, but since I started staying home, that patience has worn thin.  I'm still trying to process why this is, but the fact remains that I am more apt to raise my voice or immediately punish than I was a year ago.  Although I don't think there is anything wrong with raising your voice at a 4 or 2 year old who is beating on their brother, trying to ride their push car down the stairs, or continuously trying to unscrew a lite light bulb from a lamp, there are other times when I can tone it down, and I know it.

I'm trying to focus this week on thinking about how I want my SONS to react in situations of frustration and anger.  When their little buddy knocks down their block tower, do I want them to automatically scream "NO."  Do I want them to glare at someone who talks flippantly to them?

What Would THEY Do?

If I continue on my current status quo, what will my boys do when faced with similar emotional stimulants?  If they see their mother going for the "NO" or no-mercy time out right away, they are going to learn to behave that way themselves with their friends/family/future spouses.

And when I play back my behavior sometimes, it definitely isn't behavior I would wish to see come out of my precious, tender-hearted sons.

My mantra for the week: WWTD

Like a Diamond in the Sky

Little Bro and I are not cut from the same cloth. I am in uncharted waters when it comes to parenting him, not only because it is him uniquely, but because my experience with temperaments like his (namely my sister) haven't always been the easiest. I love this boy fiercely, but he has brought me to my knees daily in my quest to be a good mom for him.

I love rules. I love structure and routine and control. Little Bug spoiled me because he needs and wants all those things in a mother. And as uncool as it may seem at times, I really do think it's not a bad thing to teach and expect children early and often that following rules, even small ones, matter.

Little Bro loves independence and freedom. He loves to express emotions and explore and discover on his own terms. He also really likes control. As maddening as it can be for me at times, I also think it is very important to allow him to grow and learn in an environment that suites this level of independence and control he craves.

But what is a Mama to do when structured meets freedom, when logic meets passion, when because I said so meets screw you and your table manners, too?

Frankly, the blending isn't going as well as it should, and more evenings than not I lay in bed praying that tomorrow I'll manage to let it roll off me a little more, turn the other cheek just a little farther, whisper instead of raise my voice. Don't get me wrong, we're good, Little Bro and I, but I know I could be so much better for HIM. And I want to be.

Today I tried something new. I unruled him, in a way. Modifications to our routine and rules that I would normally never dream of allowing made their way into our day. Most notably, I gave him complete control in an area where he wants it most: food. Instead of sitting him in a chair and eventually fork feeding him every bite to get food in his belly, I let him run around our house playing while I followed him around forking bites into his mouth, ala Korean Halmoni style. And wouldn't you know, he loved it, asked for food, and ate a larger lunch than he has in a long time. From there, a day that was already going good went even better. For the first time in a long time, I can't think of a moment today where I wasn't in word and spirit the Mom I want to be.

Granted, this sort of thing can't and should not be sustained. Tomorrow he's eating lunch in his chair like he always does, but the experiment got me thinking about other ways I could modify my expectations to be a little more palatable to his desires. I expect him to meet me on my side most of the time, as it should be when a parent is teaching a child to live life, but I think I can find some instances where I can return the favor.

Little Bro is one of the coolest kids I know, and I want nothing more than to make him happy while giving him life tools. I am really grateful to have the chance to expand as a person as I grow to become the Mama he needs and deserves.

My baby Big Star...all the things I don't understand about him are the things I love the most.

Brook the Bird

Today I took Little Bro to the fancy zoo for his first play date with kids other than his brother (who was in school and missed the fun). It was a nice time for him and a delight for me to chat with friends.

But too soon for me, Little Bro started nodding off in his friend's wagon, and I knew it was time to go. Of course, as soon as we were on the course for the car he woke up and was absolutely fascinated by all the exotic seagulls flying around. Despite the looming threat of a seagull shower, the moment was one I relished. As the oldest, I have no frame of reference for the plight of a second child, but the reality is that now whenever #2 gets something, #1 does, too. In the interest of fairness, there isn't a lot of time or opportunity or reason to spoil just the second child.

But as MY second child sleepily delighted in watching the birds with me, I knew I was going to seize the moment and spoil him and him alone.

I took him to one of the zoo gift shops and let him pick out a stuffed animal. I steered him toward the birds, since that nice memory was fresh in my mind. He doesn't seem like a stuffed-animal-loving kid, but he did take immediately to a weird looking stuffed penguin (a bird we did not see at the zoo) with over sized, weird cracked out TROLL eyes.

Whatever. My baby was getting this weird doll.

And to my satisfaction, he held it the whole way to the car, playing with the wings and laughing at it. He clutched it during nap and while watching SuperWhy. I started to think that maybe this special treat was going to be something that would mean something to both of us.

Of course tonight he took one look at it, realized it had creepy Chucky eyes, and promptly freaked out until I hid it from him.

Oh well, it's the thought and memory that counts....and I have a feeling Brook the Big-Eyed Birdie is going to be popping up again and again as I try to force my darling second son to love this silly little doll.

Written on March 29, 2011

One year ago today my son entered my life.  Even though it would be a full month until all the other factors fell into place to make it so, one year ago today, before I had even seen his file which would come the following day, I knew.

I sat down at the computer 1 year ago today and wrote him a letter.  A letter than I had no business writing to this child, but that I absolutely knew would one day be read by him.

There are few things in life that I have felt as uncharacteristically, blindly faithful about as I did that day 1 year ago.  File be damned, finances be damned, business associations be damned.  I just knew that the child behind that little square of a picture was the child that Appa and I would both ultimately agree was going to be our son. For someone who likes to err on the side of emotional caution and pessimism, I was full of wild abandon when it came to loving this child.

And now, 1 year later, a little white dresser in my home is filled with clothes he will wear in just over a week.  My calendar has appointments that he and I will go to together. My home is about to become his home, my traditions his traditions, my family his family.....

My heart simply his.

In the last 365 days, never once have I wavered from that wild abandon.  I've felt such peace.  Truly, such peace.

All because 1 year ago Appa and I followed an insane urge to jump outside the plan, our comfort zone, our expectations.

Thank God for today.

The Darkness Excuse No Longer Works

Here is what the people who went past our house last night saw:

A mother, her dress clothes covered by her long dress coat and heels grating against the pavement, talking on the phone while pulling a 3-year-old little boy, also bundled up in winter gear to protect against the cold 30 degree temps, who was happily munching on french fries while taking the world in as his mother pulled his little red wagon up and down their driveway.

Up and down.  Up and down.  Up and down. Up and down.  Up and down.  Up and down.  Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.  Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.  Up and down. Up and down.

If a 3 year old wants an evening picnic and a wagon ride, there is little in the world that is going to stop him from getting just that. Especially when Daylight Savings Time has robbed his mother of her one sure argument against them.

The Year of Love

Every year I've taken great care when picking out a wall calendar for my work space.  For some reason, I feel like the type of calendar a person displays and chooses to look at every day says a lot about them.  For the past few years, my calendars have always been beautiful landscapes of Idaho, my childhood home state.  The pictures of a place so different from my current one, but so familiar and comforting and beautiful, have made me happy for many, many, many months.

This year I didn't get an Idaho calendar.  I wasn't sure what I was waiting for, but I spent the entire month of January calendar-less.  And then, on Valentine's Day, I found my new focus for the year, the calendar I will proudly display for the next 10 months.

It is crumpled, water-stained, crudely cut and glued....and makes me smile every morning.

Get the Hell Outta There

When I got married, and then again when I had a child, one of the best pieces of advice I received was to get away from your family occasionally. I know this might not be good for some people, but it's been wonderful for me.

I take small weekend trips without Appa. I have awesome girls' weekends with my best friend (or sisters) where we gorge ourselves on book chatting and licorice. I come home with a stronger relationships and an absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder appreciation for my favorite man.

And now that I am a mom, I still take time away from that life to refocus on me for a bit. Usually this comes in the form of a hotel stay 20 minutes away with other mamas. We stay up late giggling and crying about life. We support each other. We revel in the break from diapers and potties and sippy cups....even if our conversations are dominated by them.

And when I come home, it's not with a pang of regret that I'm going back to responsibility; it's with a joyful heart that I am SO lucky to have my family AND my friends. I love on my baby like I haven't seen him for a month.

These mini me-breaks allow me to focus. I'm at my best as a wife and mother when I am balanced. Balance, for me, sometimes comes with a reset button that only "me time" can provide.

So when people ask me for advice on motherhood or marriage, my go-to advice is simply this: "Get the hell outta there sometimes." It makes all the time you are there so much better!

And, for the record, I firmly believe my son might have grown in the 18 hours I was away from him this weekend.

Making a Home in 2011

I'm not being dramatic when I admit that I kind of suck at being a homemaker. Despite being raised by a wonderful stay-at-home-mom who cooked every night and made our Halloween costumes; having a sister who feels guilty if her floors are not spotless and actually studies a homemaker's guide that was published at the turn of the century; and being raised in a culture where every Tuesday night from ages 12-18 I spent an hour or two in an organized class learning some sort of housekeeping skill like ironing dress shirts, sewing, scrap booking, knitting, and cooking; I am a horrible homemaker.

Appa totally got hoodwinked when he signed up for this domestic goddess.

I don't have good cleaning skills. I'm like a binge and purge cleaner. Dishes will sometimes sit in my sink for days or my dust bunnies will earn the right to register to vote in their corner precincts, but when I do clean, I am all over every little detail, from the baseboards to the inside of the stove vent. That just doesn't happen very often, and even less now that Little Bug is around. I'm a good, but inconsistent cleaner.

Last year I made a lot of New Year's resolutions that I thought were simple and manageable. Turns out, my single resolution should have been to keep my resolutions. I made decent progress on about half my goals (and considering that I am typing this while drinking a DDP, failed miserably with others).

This year I decided to try a new approach.

New Month Resolutions.

My theme for the year will be, to steal a phrase from a brilliant friend of mine, home care. Each month I will select a very small detail of home care that I can focus on. Conventional wisdom and inspirational posters tell me that 21 days will be all I need to make that small change in home care a habit.

My NMRs will be small because I know myself, and lofty goals just aren't working for this working mama. I'm still trying to think about which habit I will undertake for January, but I plan to document it on my blournal so I can hold myself accountable.

I'll tell you what it won't be....this giving up DDP completely crazy talk.

First Day of School

This morning I snapped the first of many "first day of school" pictures of my Little Bug. Decked out in a Rocky-profile tshirt and a sweet Elmo backpack, he was ready to face the unknown (because he knew it contained buses and bubbles) of his new half-day developmental preschool.

Little Bug goes to school all day already, so this isn't some life-altering thing for us, but it is the first time he has gone somewhere new. His current school (where he will still go early in the morning and in the afternoon) was hand picked by me. I know his teachers and the administration. I see the teachers and students and classroom each day. I have my finger on the pulse. I can see and feel how much they love my boy and how happy he is there.

His new school is probably pretty awesome, too, and one where he will receive many of the therapies he continues to need. We took great pains to move into a district where we would be happy with the education system, and that gamble is most likely going to pay off even earlier than we had anticipated. I'm not anticipating Little Bug have much trouble (no more than is normal) transitioning into this new routine. He'll still have his normal school in the afternoon to keep his routine familiar.

My biggest problem is the oddness of this moment. The way that I drop him off somewhere I know and then some stranger comes and takes him on a bus, drives him to a school that I've only been inside once. He'll do this whole thing on his own, without Appa or I there to ease him into it. I'll pick him up at his normal school this afternoon, none the wiser to a huge part of his day.

It's so stinkin grown up and scary.

Obviously his new teacher and I plan to touch base and keep in contact and after an adjustment period I am welcome to come into the classroom (but not encouraged, which I get). It's not like my 3 year old is being left to wander the couple miles between schools alone and in the snow. Quite frankly, he is such an easy going child he won't be nervous at all so long as buses or bubbles are involved. I'm proud of how easy he adjusts to new things, and I know that is a strength of his that will serve him well.

And this is an exciting new part of his life. Real school! Real Bus! Real backpack!

Edited to add: As if the universe knew we all needed a little more of a gradual transition, the bus service was messed up and Appa, who happened to not be traveling today, was able to take Little Bug to school. He told me Little Bug was apprehensive to walk into the classroom, so I am so grateful Appa was there to hold his hand and show him that it is okay.

Dreams Come True

Tomorrow my little family is heading to the happiest place on earth. I'm ridiculously excited, not only because it's the type of place you are supposed to be excited about, but because this is the first time we are taking a trip just for us. No agenda, no people to visit, no event to attend.

Just sun and family and food and a bunch of strangers dressed as cartoons. Awesome.

Our life is pretty amazing, and I know that, but a slightly-less-than-perfect part of our life is the time we have to spent apart. To just be Appa, Mama, and Little Bug without phones or e-mail or therapists for almost a week makes me giddy.

Like, I might actually cry when we walk through the gates to that magical kingdom and I get to watch my husband and son experience it for the first time.

We have billed this trip as a gift to Little Bug, a congrats for all his hard work over the past 2 years in therapy, an early happy birthday, and a sorry we are getting you a baby brother trip. Every decision we have made has been with him as the main factor.

But as parents, I've found the best gifts you can give to yourself is watching a child delight in a gift.

Mhnk, Mhnk, Mhnk

And thus ended Adoptivus.

Last night we were working on some sleep training. I've selected a program that is meant to "gently" ease my child over the course of months into wanting to sleep like a champion in his own bed.

How lovely and charming and idealistic. Rainbows, kittens, unicorns, slumbering babies, blah, blah, blah.

This book makes it seem so easy.

Stupid book.

Last night was bad. Like, very bad for our normal. Little Bug woke up at 11 pm and was seriously ready to play until 3 am. Appa and I got about 3 hours of sleep between us.

It was bad.

I was mad.

Forget this "gentle" crap....at about 1:45 I shut Little Bug in his room and held the door shut, hoping he would sob and pound and tug on the door enough to tire the umph right out of him.

Instead, he pitter pattered quickly to the door and did the last thing I expected.

He knocked.

He knocked over and over again, occasionally saying "mhnk, mhnk, mhnk" for emphasis. For about 3 minutes.

It only stopped when Appa and I could no longer suppress our laughter, and we let him out to come lay in our bed.

The rest of the night sucked, but those 3 minutes were enough to remind us that we actually liked him enough to want to try the "gentle" approach.

Coming Out of the Closet

I . like . cosleeping .

I spend 3 nights a week without my husband, and the honest truth is my perfect little hot pretzel stick son is a fantastic spooner. Most of the time, I really enjoy having him share my bed with me. I absolutely cherish the time I get in the morning when he is still nuzzled up to me while I watch him sleep.

However, I've determined that, for our family and my son, it's not the healthiest choice, physically or emotionally. So, starting next Monday, after our last vacation for a while is finally complete, I'm going to be retraining all three of us away from cosleeping.

Appa is not happy about it, I'm a little bummed about it, and I can guarantee Little Bug won't be on board. But it is the right thing to do for us, and what is right isn't always what is easy.

I've started looking into sleep training books and methods and there are so many to choose from. I'm considering just blindly picking one and going with it. Seriously, I assume they all are just different methods to the same end, right?

I hate the fact that Little Bug is going to be sad and put up a good fight. I hate the fact that I'm going to be the enforcer because Appa is such a push over when it comes to this. I hate the fact that I'm going to need a lot more DDP to make it through the day. I hate the fact my little boy won't be spooning me for much longer and mumbling "choo choo" in my ear.

But I love the fact that my family is growing and changing and that this is in preparation for one son to grow up a little so our next son can assume his position as our baby.

Family. Work. Sleep.

I've spent the last two weeks "hibernating."

In the last 7 days, I got promoted at work. Although this is a very cool thing, it also comes with a client and projects that need significant attention...like yesterday. I also flew across the country for a weekend. I hosted my family for a couple days and then turned around and started hosting my little sister. I attempted (and basically failed) to spend some quality time with my husband, as it has been nearly a month since we had a quality night to ourselves. I raised my kid and he's doing great.

So, by hibernating, I mean that I've drained my life down to the bare essential priorities lately.

Family. Work. Sleep.

I've barely uploaded (or taken) pictures of Little Bug this month. Blogging has been reduced to the barest minimum to preserve my family memories. Facebook is hit or miss. E-mail? What's that?

It's felt odd, but not nearly as odd as I expected it to feel. I don't FEEL disconnected or left out, I simply miss those people who I connect with through blogs and Facebook.

The people, not the medium.

The online community is here to stay in my life. I have made wonderful friendships and will continue to cultivate new ones that will enrich my life and my family's life. Am I going to throw that away? Not a chance. But, I've sort of enjoyed shutting the computer at night and curling up (in bed!) with a book. I've enjoyed turning away from my computer at work to proof a large project with only my iPod, and not Facebook notifications, as my companion. Yahoo? It's about to be a thing of the past.

I'm going to continue to find this balance that seems like it could really start working for me right now with some tweaking. Balancing what (or to be blunt, who and why) my online priorities with my basic life priorities.

Family. Work. Sleep.

Seeing Him

My sister and I had a long talk recently about seeing your children, the very physical idea that although we look at our kids all day long, we sometimes stop seeing them. I think a big problem I had with my attachment to Little Bug was that although my eyes would meet his, my mind was far away. I wasn't in the moment with him, and I think that although he got plenty of time looking into my eyes, what he probably saw was far away thoughts and not a mama's adoring love.

I've been really mindful of this lately. I make time each afternoon to gaze into my kid's eyes as we play on a bed or heap of pillows. I try to take a moment or two in the car after I buckle him in to look into his eyes and smile a really genuine smile. I make sure that I am talking to him, not at him.

I'm hoping to master this ability to see my child each day before Little Bro comes home. I want to be able to be more than just a mom for my children; I want to be a mom to them. I want Little Bug to know, even at his little toddler age, that what he has to say is important to me and that I love being in his presence.

It's not easy, especially when I am tired, bored, depressed, angry, busy, or any number of the other factors that shape my day. It's so much easier to look at him and talk at him without taking the time to shift my energy into him.

But he's the most important little person in my life, and I want him to grow up seeing that.

My Grin

Even close to 2 years into this motherhood gig, I still have moments of ebbs and flows. Honestly, I have a lot of moments where I don't 100% love being a mom. For whatever reasons it might be at the time, sometimes it's hard for me to enjoy everything about the precious time I have with my son.

For a variety of reasons, I've been thinking a lot about my post adoption depression lately and the impact it had on my attachment to Little Bug and his attachment to me. Over the past month or so, I've challenged myself to be less complacent with the relationship my son and I have, because when it comes right down to it, I wasn't 100% happy with where it was. I've been actively working on attachment games and activities. Even though we're well enough attached to each other already, I realized there is always room for improvement. Over the last 2 weeks, I have noticed a marked increase in the ease and physicality of our relationship.

And today it manifested in spades. Little Bug and I had a wonderful day filled with choo choos, animals, and more choo choos. All throughout the day we would turn to me and flash this radiant smile...not directed at whatever we were doing or seeing, but a smile clearly just for me. He would crawl on me and hug me for no reason. He spent nearly an hour dragging me from toy to toy, wanting only to play with me.

And better yet, I loved every second of it. It was hot, crowded, tiring, and done all without Appa, and I didn't look at the clock once. I enjoyed every moment of my role as mother today. That's been happening a lot lately, too.

Tomorrow might suck and I might want to tell my kid to "shut up" again, but those days will happen no matter what. I just don't want to forget today...ever.

A Backhanded Love Letter

Tonight Little Bug and I were sitting outside watching (or rather, feeling) the Midwest summer storm roll in. Little Bug has had a rough day (mainly because we were bad parents and kept him up way too late last night), and I was momentarily jealous of Appa's night of room service and hotel premium channels. My husband works long hours. LONG days. Usually far away. I'd be lying if I said this didn't cause me serious annoyance, frustration, sadness, etc. Most of the time I forget that when he is not here with his family, he isn't off doing something fun.

It hit me tonight that when he is away from us, he would probably cut off his left arm to spend the evening eating leftovers (actually, in the interest of truthiness, Little Bug and I had Arby's tonight) and sitting outside watching our child slowly melt down. He's working his butt off 90+ hours a week to provide a nice home for our family and let us live comfortably while creating a fufilling career.

So to the real place my head went tonight. I admire the hell out of my husband. He had the most impeccable work ethic in undergrad, always with his eye on the prize of a good grad school. He was devoted to his research in grad school, breaking ground in the field of stem-cell research. Although he could have gotten his PhD with just a publication or two and going through the motions for 5 years, he published at least five papers, filed three patents, and created a project that was robust enough to be passed along to another student. Beside work ethic, he just blew me away with how intelligent he truly was. I tease, but I found his lab rat persona pretty sexy.

So I was rocked to my core when he told me out of the blue that he was terribly unhappy with the lab life and wanted to pursue a career in business. This is a man who has spent 19 years in science-focused classes. But, when it was clear that he was serious, I watched him start auditing business classes and helped him go through case studies for interviews. Secretly, I couldn't imagine how all this could lead anywhere.

Wouldn't you know, he got the job. The job that he had absolutely no qualifications for other than just simply being his intelligent and articulate self. I still am surprised in some ways. I'm even more surprised that we agreed (and still do) that it was the right fit for our family. What I am not surprised about is how hard he has worked in the last few years to prove himself, gather necessary knowledge and experience, and just generally excel at an incredibly hard challenge that he had no business excelling at.

All this was swirling in my head while the clouds were stirring above me and my little boy tonight. Suddenly, instead of being annoyed that my husband is often absent and always having fabulous dinners and staying in swanky hotels, I had this fervent hope that somehow he will be able to teach our sons to live as fearlessly and completely as he subtly has. I'm Mrs. Status Quo, but Appa puts 110% into whatever he is doing and isn't afraid to make a change (sometimes HUGE changes) in order to seek happiness and something better for himself and the ones he loves (namely, me and our babies). It's grueling, but it seems to be worth it for him, which makes it worth it for me.

My mama's wish of the day: for my sons to be even half the fearless but realistic dreamer their Appa is.

Peri

Back when I thought I was going to "poof" and get pregnant (of course with a girl), I decided that her middle name would be "Peri," because in Greek it means "mountain dweller."

Although I am no longer stock piling little girl names and my kids already come with what will be the middle names, the name "Peri" had always stuck with me. I love the idea of my children being "mountain dwellers," not just nature lovers or weekend warriors.

I want my children to be comfortable putting a 50 lb pack on and hiking for days in the wilderness. I want them to experience packing a car filled with essentials spur of the moment and driving up into the mountains to find a random spot flat enough to pitch a little tent. I want them to know how to start a fire without a match (but be smart enough to always carry waterproof matches). I want them to know the best way to keep your clothes warm is to put them at the bottom of your mummy bag. I want them to brush their teeth with their fingers (with or without water) and know how to purify water. I want them to roast food on a stick they picked up off the ground and be grateful they have a roll of toilet paper and not just leaves to do their business out in the woods.

I want them to feel the cold morning dew on their fingertips from the inside of the tent. I want them to breath in the crisp, clean air that comes in the early morning hours of the mountains. I want them to taste the smokiness of a campfire dinner and sigh at the warmth of hot chocolate in the morning. I want them to start a marshmallow on fire and watch it burn...and I want them to know those are the gooey, best kind. I want them to hear the world at night and see the stars shining brightly.

I want them to want to get dirty. I want them to love to get dirty. I want them to know how to simultaneously enjoy and preserve nature. I want them to love nature for what it is....nature.

Appa and I were so lucky to be raised in families and an area of the country (beautiful Idaho) that afforded us the chance to enjoy nature early and often. My mama packed each of her five babies into camp sites. At age 13, I trained for months to carry a pack on my back for multiple days as I hiked (not scaled, mind you) one of the many mountains I've had the honor of standing on the top of. I've had the pleasure of sitting in a mountain valley filled with flowers that only a couple people would ever see before they died and taking a shower in a tiny stream waterfall. Appa's family took week long hikes to fish remote lakes, bear spray close at hand and banking on catching their food. Together we've gotten in our car and driven up into the mountains with our tent, some blankets, and a bottle of wine. We've even attend a wedding where the accommodations were tents after a meadow reception. It's normal to us.

My kids? My kids live in a huge metropolitan area. Camping is something you have to schedule...to book an actual camp site. Camp grounds have showers and game rooms and play grounds. The RVs that surround you blare the sounds of the video gaming system the kids would rather play. Appa and I can't always take our kids back West and give them the same exposure we had, and for that, I am very sad. But we are going to try with what we have here, and I am really excited about that.

A tent, a roll of toilet paper, matches, and some food. Hopefully by the time our boys are old to do some more rugged hiking and camping, we will have instilled in them enough of a love for nature that they will enjoy it as much as we will.

Maybe someday if they are blessed with a daughter, they might name her "Peri."

WTH Just Happened

I resigned myself a while ago that Little Bug would be in diapers for a while. An early or even "normal" potty training seemed ridiculous to us. So, although he sits on the potty after each diaper change at school, I've never so much as looked twice at a potty for our home.

Scene: Little Bug and I enjoying an ice cream on our back porch. Little Bug suddenly starts squatting and grunting. Very gentleman-like.

Mama (absently, still mentally celebrating the fact he handed me his ice cream instead of tossing it on the ground): "Little Bug, are you pooping? Do you need to go to the potty?"

Note, the fact that I used the word potty was not because I expected him to actually need to use the potty (he was clearly already doing his business); it was just some absent thing I think I have always said to him.

Little Bug: "PbA?"

Little Bug straightened up, brushed away the ice cream and went to the door expectantly. Mama opens the door and Little Bug goes directly to the baby gate and waits to be let upstairs. He goes directly to the bathroom and stands expectantly, pointing at the toilet.

Little Bug: "PbA?"

Mama: "Uhhh, ok?"

Mama takes off the poopy diaper and sits Little Bug's tiny tushy on the way too big toilet seat. Both Little Bug and Mama are afraid he is going to drop through.

Little Bug (clapping once he is removed from the toilet): "All done."

End scene.

So today I am reviewing toddler potties and will have one in our bathroom by the end of the week. Do I think this means Little Bug is anywhere near ready to even begin potty training? Nope. The running water I heard this morning while getting ready for work that was actually my son loudly peeing in his diaper, totally oblivious, tells me as much.

But I'm going to have the potty and rewards on hand, just in case.

The Sideways

Last night, after a really weird afternoon that culminated in a 2-hour high fever, Little Bug went down without a fight and Appa and I settled in to watch a ridiculously long series finale and get some freaking questions answered.

2 hours went by....still waiting for answers. 2 hours 10 minutes went by....just . starting . to . get . . to . the . point...

Pitter patter, pitter patter.
Door open.
"What's up, Mama and Dada?"

Oh, HELL no.

Appa paused the show, and I corralled Little Bug back into his room, letting him know that it was, for sure, not play time. Or, at least, I thought I made myself clear, but apparently not.

What happened from that point on is a case of a parenting alternate "sideways reality." The textbook situation that somehow spirals out of control, with your normal routine slipping away from you and replaced with a world where 2 year olds are wide awake and ready to be loving life at Midnight.

So, Appa finally knocked on the door and uttered the most ridiculous proposal...one that made total sense in this sideways reality. Let's bring our kid down to join the fun, finish the last 20 minutes of our show, and then end this party with a family cosleep.

Maybe we could even fly a crashed plane off a beach....you know, just for kicks.

So, as I watched the final seconds of my questions not being answered (but still satisfied anyway), I looked over and watched my son laughing his head off as he sat between Appa and I, bright-eyed and pleased as can be to be hanging with us at 1 am. I wasn't exactly sure how we got to this point and were okay with it, and I half expected a smoke monster to come slithering by, but I got this sense that this sideway reality wasn't so bad. It's nice to enjoy special, out of the ordinary moments with those you love. Especially those moments that are born from breaking sacred parenting rules simply for the sake of enjoying the smiles of your family.

But tonight, it's back to the island of normal bedtimes and boundaries.