11 years in... things still change

As far as parents go, I have to say I'm pretty damn lucky. I have a mom who is was all up in my business, and a dad who still teaches taught me about the "real world". From her I learned how to stay strong when my babes are playing every card they have hoping I will cave, and from him I learned to question authority, even if I had to follow the rules. Between the two of them, I learned what kind of mom I was going to be. A delicate mix of authoritarian and friend, caregiver and teacher. It's what I know, and I have never, ever, questioned it. 

But, as I have come to learn, and more importantly understand, all of my babes have a healthy dose of The Chef in them. Although I see more of me in some than I do the others, they are not copies of me. What worked for my parents in raising me, isn't always going to work with my babes. I never was 100% satisfied with the job I was doing as their parent. It felt as if something was missing from the core skill set that had been ingrained in my being from my own childhood. I could never quite put my finger on what was "wrong", so I consequently dismissed it as the baggage that all parents carry with them.

Then, while doing something completely different, I stumbled across this video. Watch the first 45 seconds or so if you don't want to watch the entire thing (The video is 8 mins, but worth it). 

You own you. No one else owns you. 

This struck a chord inside of me, and although I had accepted my (perhaps imagined) shortcomings as a parent, a thousand light bulbs were suddenly turned on. 

Even though I had not meant to treat my babes as "lesser" entities, I had been. I had been treating them like they were an extension of both The Chef and I, and not the individuals that they are. I had been treating them as possessions. I had always known that they were their own people, but now I understand that they are their own people...

... and it has changed the way I parent them.

For instance: not that I was ever free with my hand across their bum for a spanking, but I would be lying if I said that I never did it, (and click this link for an explanation of why/how I did it) I doubt very seriously that I will ever raise my hand to Pineapple. Even at her tender age of 22 months, I do not own her.  

I never thought that parenting was static. I believed that certain fundamentals would always exist, but being awakened the way that I have been, has filled me with equanimity, and that is something that has been missing for far too many years.

(End Note: I know what the video is. It describes the Philosophy of Liberty as defined by the Libertarian Party (and just in case you didn't know, I am a Libertarian). You can find out more about Libertarians HERE and the Libertarian Party HERE). 

What I've been up too

I have been keeping myself busy... and it's not with paper. And if I ever think about it, at the right time, I may actually take a picture of it.

Let's just say, I feel extremely satisfied.

A Letter to Pineapple

Dearest Pineapple,

We need to talk.

You know I love to party with you. I adore it, and with your brothers and sister being home on summer break, it's been a big wet towel on our escapades. We really haven't had the time to hang mono e mono. Sweetness, I understand, I do. Trust me, watching Bubble Guppies without you isn't something I would do.

Your plan, elegant in it's simplicity, is why it went so well for the last couple of nights. It was completely brilliant to scream at the top of your lungs at 3 am, because you knew I'd come to you. Your cheerful "Hi!" and wave as I opened your door... I tip my hat to you ma'am because you know that when you scream like someone is trying to kill you, that I will be there within seconds... and I always will be.

Pineapple, it has to stop. It's not that I don't enjoy the 3 to 4 hours of being exhausted to the point that I can feel a migraine tickling the back of my brain with just you. It's fantastic that you are wound up, wanting to sing and dance and yell at me if I close my eyes for longer than a simple blink. There is nothing I love more than to have cheerios shoved into my mouth (or nose, or ears) cuddle you.

We need to stop getting together in the middle of the night like this. For the love of Maude it needs to stop. You will thank me for this one day, maybe not tonight, as I rub your back and tell you to go back to sleep, maybe not tomorrow, when you are mad at me and give me the attitude that only a budding 2 year old is capable of... but probably the day after when you don't take a 5 hour nap and will actually be awake in the afternoon we are cuddled up on the couch watching none other than the Bubble Guppies.

Grace in Small Things: Day Seven

Today marks my first week posting over at Grace in Small Things. It's not as hard as I first expected it to be. In fact, when I missed Day Four, I almost got out of bed to post, but I waited until the morning. I posted those graces before I could forget them, before I even had my first cup of coffee.

Right now, it's just lists of five things, no meaning behind them, just my random observations through the day. I am sure that there will be one or two that will have me puking all over it, but in all honesty, keeping it at just a list is enough. It has helped... and for all the fancy ways to describe it, I just FEEL happier.

I can't say that I am back to 100% yet, but I'm working on it. It'll happen.

I'm going to continue to post over at GiST my dailies, on Sundays, I will start off the new week.

If you want to read my dailies, check out my blog over at GiST.

Banana has been on this kick of wanting to watch scary movies. Her best friend (who has just moved out of state) watched and told her about Paranormal Activity. She begged me to watch it when she found out that The Chef and I had it recorded on his DVR to watch for one of our stay-at-home date nights. I told her no more than once because I *knew* it would scare her. But still she begged, she told me all about it, and pleaded her case to both The Chef and I. This time it wasn't just me telling her no, she got the same answer from her dad.

Well tonight, being a Friday there was nothing on the television. I suggested a movie, and seeing that Paranormal Activity was only an hour and a half, The Chef pressed play, and I looked at her and a smile was pulling at the corners of her mouth. I asked her if she was sure she wanted to see it. She nodded yes, her eyes fixed on the screen, her lovey placed gently at her side.

She was doing great until The Chef said, "Whoa". She climbed up into my lap, holding her lovey tight to her chest. We watched a few more minutes, and I whispered in her ear, "It's ok if you are scared. If you want to go and watch TV in the other room, we won't tease you." But she stayed strong... that is until the last 2 minutes. She stood up and said "I'm outta here", and she walked out. I suggested watching one of the Hannah episodes that is recorded on the front room TV. The Chef and I half laughed, and suddenly the movie was over, and I have never been so glad that she had decided to leave. She missed the last 15 seconds, and The Chef and I both agreed that it would have been THAT which her nightmares would be made of. She walked back into the room, and we told her that she had made it, that she had watched the entire thing.

She got to watch two Hannah episodes, and we sent her to bed with hugs and kisses and telling her to think good, happy thoughts...

... and she ended up sleeping on the couch.

Grace in Small Things The First One

Because the Universe in her wisdom has decided to smack me and mine around, I need something to remind me why people smile.. that the glass is actually half full... and all that... stuff.

The idea behind Grace in Small Things (GiST), you are supposed to post 5 things everyday, for a year. I know I have to work up to that. (Yeah, I MAY eventually finish the 30 days of Blogging) So I am going to go with 5 things today... and we'll take it from there.

(Thanks to Heather for her ability to call Perfect Timing)

Want to play? Click Here

To Banana on her 9th Birthday

Hello Sweetheart.

I find the older that you get, the harder it is to write you these letters. Not for any other reason than, I am running out of words to describe the awesomeness that is you. You laugh when you should cry, you jump when you're nervous, you like being the center of attention (like is an understatement), and you have your father's wit and your great grandmother's ability to tell people to go to hell, and they thank you when you're done.

You have this uncanny knack of being able to tell if something isn't quite right, and you do everything in your power to try and make it right, even if it borders on being annoying. You care for things, and when you grieve, it's deeply with your whole heart. You have amazing superpowers, and don't even know it.

You have decided to let your hair grow, and that is in part to your dad whispering into your ear at night. Although he understands that if it's short it's easier to take care of... even though I have to remind you daily to brush it. When I apply dye to my hair, you beg to let me dye yours. (NO) Your nails are always done, and you beg me to let you use my nail polish (Yes), and you love skirts, and lace, and being frilly... but you also love mud, and throwing down with your brothers.

When you want to do something, you give with all your heart... and I know what kind of problems that can bring years down the road, I can't stop you from that either.

You are destined for amazing things... just keep being you.