Breathe in the flowers, blow out the birthday candles

Photo Credit: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Stress_2.gif
What stress can do to the body

Last month, Funky Little EarthChild wrote on her Facebook page,

"My 5 year old son is a bright ball of energy, naturally. Sometimes, he gets himself so wound up that he has a hard time bringing his focus back to Earth. It can be frustrating for me when he is acting like a little tornado in the house, but it's upsetting for him, too. You can tell he wants to relax at some point but his little mind is on go-go-go. So, I started teaching him some basic yoga - specifically sun salutations. Just 5 minutes of breathing, moving and concentrating so that he can regain his focus and relax just a little. He really enjoys it. We'll see if it helps him."

Not all of what she says is identical to how my five year acts and reacts, yet the outline of him is evident. It's like looking at yourself in a funhouse mirror, all your features are there, but distorted slightly.  You still recognize the person when you see them. 

Slim is responding to my high stress over the move in a, well let's just call it a non-optimal way.  I feel challenged by his behavior and it doesn't seem like he wants to be so tightly sprung.  I'm anxious, he's anxious, we're a barrel of anxious monkeys over here!  It has always been my practice to allow my sons their emotions, yet guide them in a socially acceptable manner of expression.  So, I am or will be trying three things to help him.  And help me too.   My stress release methods could certainly stand tweaking an overhaul.  I may be the adult in this relationship, but with my increased yelling, I'm not a good role model when it comes to how I've handled the crappy last few months.

I know that when I am no longer a temporary single mom, when R and I are reunited, and when we are living together, in the same state, as a family, my usual calm down tactics will be functioning again.  In the meantime, I am living at my wit's end and counting down the days.  It's wise to keep a toolbox stocked though and it wouldn't hurt to rotate in some new tools.  What keeps you from pulling out your hair?

As for Slim, I want to work on:

1. Breathing exercises 
2. Yoga
3. Making and using a mind jar

When the boys took Gymboree Play & Music classes, one of the sports teachers was fond of ending the class with stretches and a simple breathing exercise.  She encouraged the kids to hold their hands cupped up near their nose and, "breathe in the flowers" then lower their hands perpendicular to their mouths and, "blow out the birthday candles."  I want to lead him in this and some other breathing exercises for relaxation.  One I plan to implement was something a dance instructor of mine from childhood used to close out the class.  I welcomed the moments of calm and control over my body as we were told to tighten our toes, ankles, calves, and on and on up to the hair growing out of our heads and then to release in reverse order.  I hope Slim gains as much out of it as I did.

Creekside Learning, a homeschool blog, outlines four ways that kids benefit from yoga: body, breathing, mind, and peace.  It builds on the breathing exercise goal and is something I think will soothe Slim's soul and focus his frantic energy.

A book that I read to my guys sometimes and have used twice in different storytime & craft days I've hosted is My Daddy Is a Pretzel: Yoga for Parents and Kids by Baron Baptiste.  It is an engaging introduction to yoga.  The story is based during a class circle time, in which children are sharing what their parents and guardians do for a living.  Every career relates back to a yoga pose that the narrator's father can do.  "Samantha's mommy is a baker, sometimes my daddy is a pretzel"   Easy to understand instructions are accompanied by a step by step illustration of the pose. 

Thanks to a Plum District deal and a friend's thoughtfulness in suggesting I check out Romparoo, I have Curly enrolled in a few weeks of Summer camp.  They also offer yoga for 5-7 year olds, as long as there is sufficient interest (so please, if you're in the area, sign up your child!) and I have expressed interest in getting Slim involved.

I first learned about mind jars from my time wasting on Pinterest.  Following are some of the best posts I've read on the subject:

Juggling with Kids - Although she made hers later, this was the first one I discovered on Pinterest and sent me down the rabbit hole searching for more.

Here We Are Together - Juggling with Kids links to this blog as the source and Here We Are Together links to still life with circles who indicates the idea derived from the book Moody Cow Meditates.  There is a printable available here to affix to your mind jar should you so choose.

still life with circles - Discusses guided meditation ideas and has a picture of what the mind jar looks like before it's all shook up.

Sun Hat & Wellie Boots - I find solidarity in this post because she was led to create a mind jar for her daughter because of being overwhelmed by a move too.

The premise of the mind jar is to serve as a time for reflection and meditation to ease a child's mind in those moments when they are a human twister.  It's not meant as a punitive time out.  If you practice time ins or are familiar with Montessori peace tables and education, it is akin to those philosophies - a chance for regrouping.

Although the mind jar can be made from a plastic container, I would prefer to make ours from glass, as in the examples.  Given that, the project will be completed post-move.  In the meantime, we have one of those glittery seek-and-find magic wands that I'll have Slim use for practice as I discuss the mind jar plans with him.

Above, I asked for me, but I also want to know what coping tools you've provided your children?  Have you used any of the three things on our list to try successfully?

Slim & Curly - A Snapshot in Words

My three year old is freshly minted.

Now that the weather is warmer, he's moving beyond the notion that a shirt is not worth his time unless it has a hoodie.

He has mispronunciations I find endearing.  When he finds something gross, he declares it uh-sgusting.  Fox sounds more like box out of his mouth.

I love discovering and rediscovering how outgoing he can be, even when not with his brother.

My five and a half year old is insistent on adding the half.

Now that the school year is drawing to a close and we are approaching our farewell Kansas date, he's concerned, for the first time in all our moves, about not just missing his old friends, but making new ones.

He has writing quirks I find delightful.  One of the letters of his name is always written backwards, just like Andy in Toy Story.

I love watching him read to his brother. 

This is where they are in the middle of Spring 2012.  A snapshot in words.

Also, an actual snapshot.

I'm as Pretty as a Bug

Thank you, Old Navy circa 2005 - I DO <3 Mom!

Happy Mother's Day!

In honor of the day we celebrate the women who birthed us, adopted us, fostered us, but above all, made room in their hearts for us, I bring to you, "Why my Mom is Special" as dictated by Slim.

The bold part was pre-printed on the sheet and the rest was filled out by his teachers verbatim.  My thoughts follow in italics. 

"My Mom is special because she gets me what I like." Hmm, so it appears his love language is gifts.

"I like it when my Mom buys things at night."  Again with the buying stuff. And what does this even mean? Why at night?  We seldom go out at night.  Is that why it's special in his mind?

"My Mom is as pretty as a bug" A bug, huh?  I asked what that meant to him. He clarified that I am lovely like a ladybug or monarch butterfly.  I actually like that compliment!

"My Mom has a pretty smile! I like to make her smile by making a funny face." Now this one is true!  I was starting to think I didn't know my kid anymore because I couldn't predict any of his answers.  But this?  This I recognize and live daily.

"My Mom is smart! She even knows how to twirl on two legs." I'm smart y'all - I bet you can't twirl on two legs!

I am the sole parent for two more weeks.  This means I didn't get my number one Mother's Day wish, not to have to deal with anyone else's bodily functions or fluids.  Next year, R.  Of course, Curly will be done having accidents by then.  But you can get the cat litter.

Without the book in front of me, this is only a paraphrase, but motherhood, to me, is perfectly encapsulated at the end of the first Olivia storybook, when Olivia's mom says, "you wear me out, but I love you anyway."  My boys are joyous and kind and fascinating and loving ... except when they're not.  Argus McFargus, they can be tough stuff.  I reflected, this morning on the phone with R, how I think I'm a pretty good mother, so why aren't my sons, well, good-er?  The answer I came to is that we get the kids who most need us as parents.  Maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't flourish under any one else's care.  I don't know.  But it's reassuring nonetheless.  At the end of the day, I still know I'm as pretty as a bug.  Not everyone can say that.

Heart



Too true. Since I posted this, I discovered the source of the picture.  Buy here: http://www.etsy.com/listing/74193152/left-my-heart-print

I love those moments when children surprise you.  In a positive way, not when they flour bomb the floor like it's Kim Kardashian.  I'm talking about the times when their inherent wisdom, humor, and awesomeness shine through and you realize, nay remember, the capacity for kids to be so stinking wise, funny, and awesome is deep and wide.  Slim reminded me of this recently.

With preparing for an impending move and running a household of two wild and crazy guys and five animals by myself, I've been understandably stressed.  One day I wasn't being the kindest mom.  I am a big believer that parents are not exempt from making mistakes.  This is a short article that articulates my beliefs about why and how to make peace with your child.  I told the kids that I was sorry I was being mean and that I felt overwhelmed about the move and leaving Kansas and our friends here.  I explained that I needed to find a better way to express my frustrations without yelling.

Slim told me, "Mom, you just need to pretend your friends are your family.  Then they will always be in your heart and you won't miss them."

Woah.

A few days later as we were recounting the story to a friend, he went on "And they'll be in your brain and you won't ever forget them."

Damn! Kid, you are my Yoda.

Playing surgeon at KidScape

Within about the same time period, we made a visit to KidScape, a permanent "hands-on suburban streetscape for kids to explore community" at Johnson County Museum.  There is a hospital setup within the exhibit, complete with OR.  Open the doors on the patient's chest that you see above and you discover an organ puzzle.  Drs. Slim and Curly gleefully removed the organs.  When Slim took out the heart he declared, "The man has no heart.  He can't love anymore."

I have no heart related Curly anecdotes, but I wanted to share a few cute things he's done or said lately:

• I use my regular vocabulary around the boys, which consists of occasional big words.  I also use I feel _____ when _____ statements.  Curly has picked up on both the words and the statements.  He has taken to saying, "I feel irrited (meaning irritated) because (I can't play, I want a lollipop, you are taking me on a boring errand ...)
• I think, thanks to the nursing relationship with each boy, I have been my sons' "lovey".  It is less apparent now that Slim is getting older, although he still is such a sweet cuddlebug.  But Curly, in the last few months, has taken to gently rubbing my ear lobes when I hold him or as we lay next to each other as I'm getting him down to sleep.  It feels nice and I find it as relaxing as he does. 
• He hero worships Slim.  "I love you my brudder."
• In less than two weeks, my baby boy will truly no longer be a baby - he is turning three!  But if you ask him how old he'll be?  "Four, then six, then eight, nine, ten ..." and on and on.  Curly just wants to bypass this year for some reason.

My 'I love you" ran away to Texas

I've got to get this down before I forget it.  I just had an amusing conversation with the boys on the drive home from Parents' Night earlier this evening.

Curly says, rather grumpily, "Mommy, I'm mad at you."

I respond, "Oh really?  Why are you mad at me?"

"Because I'm mad at you."

Well that was enlightening.  "Are you a little mad or a lot mad?"

In a gruff voice, "I'm three mads, no, three, four, five mads."

So I say, "I'm sorry to hear that.  But guess what?"

No guessing from the back seat.

"I love you!"

Still nothing from Curly.  But it gets a laugh out of Slim.

"I love you when you're mad. I love you when you're happy ..."

In a frustrated voice, Curly interrupts, "No, I'm happy.  I'm mad!"

And then, Slim interjects, "But your 'I love you' ran away."

"Huh?"  I'm puzzled.

"Mom, take your 'I love you' out of your mouth", Slim commands nicely, if you can command in a nice way.

I say, "I love you" out loud and make a show of reaching in my mouth as though I'm taking the words out and then I pass them back to Slim.

Slim shouts, "Boo!" at my hand.  "I scared your 'I love you' away and now it ran to Texas."

With indignant laughter I tell him, "You can't scare my love away!"

"Yup, I did.  The 'I love you' is in Texas eating, and drinking, and playing."

And now I want to turn this whole conversation into a book.  I won't, but I want to.

You're So Much Like Me. I'm Sorry

This post is a ramble about gender neutral parenting, my sons' personalities, and how I see me in them.  Not just Slim's hair or Curly's dimple, but in their walk and their talk.  Occasionally, when they wake in the morning, I sing a warbled, out of tune, modified, rise and shine version of Ben Folds' Still Fighting It:  "Good morning son.  I am your mom.  Wearing hospital pants for pjs.  You want a hug?  Maybe a kiss?  How about some pancakes for breakfast?  It's okay.  We're gonna have a great day.  I just can't wait!"  In the real version, there's a recurring line in the song, "And you're so much like me.  I'm sorry."  I love my children, flaws and all, but I sure wish that some of the flaws they have weren't inherited from me thanks to nature and nurture.  It's scary knowing how potentially harmful my influential traits might be.  Thankfully, they're not all me.  They're them.

Curly is physical and charming and one step away from disaster that he almost always manages to avert. I joke that he's smart enough to figure out how to get out of a situation he got himself into nine times out of ten, but it's the tenth time you have to watch out for! Thankfully, as his mother, who spends day in/day out with him, I am immune to his irrepressible, dimpled grin that defies discipline. This boy could likely be described as a mama's boy because he loves snuggling with me or winds up hiding behind my metaphorical skirts when he feels timid. However, he might just turn that hug into a wrestling move if you're not careful. I couldn't help but shake my head in embarrassment and resigned mirth as he tackled his brother to the ground. On the floor of the grocery store. While I was paying. He lives joyfully and he wants you to too.

Slim is intelligent and analytical in a way that outwits me and R - and I don't think we're at all dumb (even if motherhood has killed more brain cells than I'd care to admit.)  The kid is BIG TIME into dinosaurs .  He revels in the mud and dirt and sand, drawing pictures with his fingers in the transient medium, looking for creepy crawlies, often with a magnifying glass in hand.  He gravitates towards people in such a sincere, friendly way that I can't pull off.  Since we've moved,  Slim insists on introducing himself to everyone. And his spiel is, "Hi, I'm Slim. I'm a four year old. But on my next birthday, which is mumble mumble, not sharing his birth date here, mumble mumble, I'll be a five year old. We just moved here from Florida. Did you just move here too?" To ev-er-y-one!  I love how personable he is, but it is hard having an extroverted child when I'm so not.

And Slim's favorite color is pink.

And I've seen them both breastfeeding dolls.  Slim was convinced that he could make chocolate milk come out of his nipples when I was nursing Curly.

And Curly probably cleans better than I do.  I call him my little Danny Tanner because he is so adept at picking up.

Yeah, my son has a pink (and blue) butterfly on his face. But so what?  I didn’t encourage his face painting choice, but I didn't discourage it either.  In doing so, I showed Slim I honor him.  I showed Curly I honored him by asking if he wanted his face painted too and not forcing him when he shook his head vehemently.

When I talk to them about love and marriage and family, I frame it in gender neutral terms (except son.  Unless that changes one day in the future, right now, they are my sons.)  I tell them that I hope, one day, they find a partner who loves them and respects them.  That it's best to start a family with that kind of person.  Because who doesn't want that for their child?  A partner in life.  I don't care if that's a man or a woman or if Slim or Curly realize that they are transgender.  I. don't. care.  I want my kids to know that I love and support them and if I can set up that framework of love and support now, so that if they were to come out, they would feel safe to do so with me, all the better.

When we walk around Target or Toys R Us, I gently correct them when they say, "That's the girl toy aisle."  "You know guys, there's no such thing as toys that are just for girls or just for boys.  Boys can play with dolls and girls can play with cars."  People?  My sister is the reason that our younger brothers had a huge Matchbox car collection.  My brothers also played with our castoff Barbies.  After cutting off their hair and stripping them naked. 

When I was pregnant, we got Slim an older brother present of a toy stroller and baby carrier.  Because guess what?  Dads are nurturing too.  When Curly watches me put on makeup and asks for some, I indulge him by swiping my brush blush on his cheeks.  I'll admit, I say things like, "Not all men wear makeup" or "Other boys may not like a pink car for a gift", not to dampen their spirits, but to give them a little taste of the outside world from a trusted source.

I think they're going to be okay.  They're going to get hurt; not just physically, but emotionally.  They'll look back on childhood fondly (I hope), despite some bad memories.  There will be things people don't like about them.  But none of us are unscathed by Life.  And who they are?  As I described them to you today?  I reiterate - I think they're going to be okay.

In the land of make-believe

An apron makes a fantastic cape

I love watching the boys play pretend.  As a dear friend was kind enough to say about them, "we love Slim's and Curly's beautiful, unique and creative spirits."

Before we moved, Slim would hold a white piece of printer paper over his toy animals.  His narrative went like this:
"It's snowing!"  Seeing as though snow was how we sold him on the move, I wasn't surprised to see him incorporate the white stuff into his play.
Pointing to the animals under the paper, "this is Kansas City"
Indicating the floor, "out here it's Florida"

Curly is getting in on the fun too.  Lately he has enjoyed pretending he's one of the family members, be they of the fur or human persuasion.  Typically, the conversation involves his new sentence structures with the word because.  ("Curly, please put on your shoes/use an inside voice/stop kissing the cat ..."
An emphatic, "No"
"Why not?"
"Because no." 
Or, my favorite, "Curly, do you love Daddy?"
An emphatic, "Yes"
"Why?"
"Because because." :D) 
Just this morning, we were discussing names.  The boys have a long name, a nickname that they go by, familial nicknames like Slim and Curly, and a Hebrew name.  So I asked Curly if he was his long name.  I assumed he answered no because he was accustomed to going by his nickname and doesn't always associate himself with his long name.  But kids are always surprising you. "Because I Mommy and you Curly!" he replied with an impish grin.  We proceeded to pretend that I was indeed Curly and he got quite a kick out of my imitation of him.

When other children are using their imaginations simultaneously, it doesn't always go the way they want or I expect.  Earlier this week, we visited the Kansas City Zoo.  While there, we made a pit stop at the playground on site.  A little girl, who was around Slim's age, was as exuberant and outgoing as my guys and quickly engaged them both.  Although they had an overall fun time, the conflict came from each wanting to play a different way.  The girl wanted to pretend that the boys were the bad guys with guns and she was going to save the day and put them in jail.  Slim's imagination rarely puts him in the role of villain and despite having a pirate's and knight's foam sword, seldom does he make believe with weapons.  Instead of her scenario, Slim wanted to pretend they were acorns growing into tall, strong trees.  Admitedly different and not as fun, given that trees have the propensity to be rooted in one spot, not move around like active children.  Curly simply channeled Big Bird's temporary adoptive siblings, Donny and Marie Dodo, in that he only wanted to pretend to be himself.

I'll admit, part of the reason I'm a fan of imaginative play is because it's stimulating for me too.  I enjoy playing pretend with them just as much as I do sitting back and observing quietly.  Plus, the land of make-believe builds important skills necessary in adulthood, like confidence, problem solving, creative thinking, and healthy self-expression.  R and I are making a point to ensure their holiday gifts include some dress up clothes and other things that facilitate play for hours without structure or instructions.  This versatile cape is one of the items we've been eyeing.

What was your favorite thing to play pretend as a child?  And what has your child made believe recently?

Tampons Aren't Toys Boys

I never imagined I'd utter those words.  But that's one of the joys oddities of motherhood, I suppose.  And being a mom of boys?  I'm not one to put too much stock in gender roles, but I admit I wonder if I'd say the same things if I had girls.  Well, obviously they wouldn't have the same genitalia!  So, that'd be different.  Beyond that though, who knows?

The things that I've said recently:

- Only our pets lick our faces

- Your penis is not a hanger - get the ________ (fill in the blank here, usually a toy, sometimes a piece of food - Curly is a total nudist and likes to see if things will stay on it!) off it
- Don't take off your diaper just to pee/poop on the floor!

- Yogurt is not finger paint
- The water in the bath is not for drinking
- Don't lick it either!

And my two favorite recent stories:

- At bedtime last night, we got to discussing farts.  Don't ask me how it happened because I don't know.  What I do know is that I have an inner twelve year old boy and the day that farts and burps stop being funny is the day I will officially feel old.  So we're talking farts, when suddenly Curly farted intentionally and said, "Fart on Mama.  Ha ha."  Literally, the kid says, "Ha ha" when he's being funny or teasing.  I wasn't aware that two year olds could fart on purpose.  Or find it amusing to fart on someone.  Nothing better than ending your day laughing at bedtime!

- Thanks to coupons and sales, I had the chance to stock up on pads and tampons.  I got lots of the new U by Kotex.  I'm kinda meh on them, but that's not relevant to the story.  What is relevant is that they've attempted to make feminine products "discreet" (seriously, picture me heavily exaggerating the air quotes rather sarcastically) by making them bright and colorful.  They're really meant for first time and young period havers, hence the "fun" packaging.  Whatever.  Well, turns out the bright and colorful packaging is fun.  For little boys.  Who, because you no longer have a bathroom cabinet thanks to flooding, are able to easily access your toiletries that are temporarily stored in little buckets on the floor.  And apparently hot pink, neon green, mustard yellow, and electric blue tampons are supremely eye catching.  And once they are removed from the packaging?  Watch out!  A young kid will figure out how to depress the plunger and shoot their brother in the eye.  At which point I walk in (at what age can I leave them alone for five minutes without having to deal with things like this!?) and immediately yell, "tampons are not toys boys!"

Happy Memorial Day!

I love many things about the development we live in.  One thing that I greatly appreciate is that around American holidays, they decorate in front of the entrance of every neighborhood by planting flags.

Slim asked me why the flags were up this weekend and then what Memorial Day was; we had a fun and funny little conversation that went like this:

Me, "It is a holiday to honor and celebrate the soldiers who keep our country safe."

Slim, "I think we also dress up in costumes of what we want to be when we're a grown up.  Some people dress like soldiers.  I'm going to dress like an alligator hunter.  That's what I want to be."

Me, puzzled as to where this idea came from and prepared to ask where in the world the idea came from when Slim went on, "alligators don't eat bathing suits you know.  So that's what I'll wear."

Would you trade a year of your life for the perfect body?

My initial reaction?  Yes, absolutely! Apparently I'm not alone, because "almost one-third of young women would trade at least a year of their lives to have a perfect body, according to a new survey of British undergraduates."  But, because I'm me, I over analyzed my decision after the fact. 

Which year would I have to give up?  Would I die at 83 instead of 84?  Would I have to lose a year I've already lived? Under whose interpretation of what defines a perfect body?  Mine? Is a perfect body one that is also healthy?  Ok, so apparently I need the full disclosure on the arrangement, to ensure no Twilight Zone twist!  But if it means I turn 32 next month instead of 31, and I'm going to live a long time beyond that, my answer remains the same.  Yup, I'm in.  Sure, I'm far more than my exterior.  I've also struggled with body image issues since adolescence.  I have no qualms owning my shallowness.  I also simply think it's not just being shallow; looking in the mirror and liking what I see would equate a better quality of life for me. 

A life I long to attain!  Curly turns two in a little more than a week and I have yet to reach my pre-pregnancy weight.  It was nine months on, eight months off with Slim.  I am swiftly approaching the time when I can no longer consider the extra pounds I'm carrying baby weight.

I have ranged from a size 8 to a size 18 in my adulthood.  Life certainly wasn't perfect when I was thinner.  I still managed to find things wrong with myself when I looked like this:

September 2007 - my sister's wedding

September 2008 - 9 weeks pregnant with Curly in San Antonio, TX


versus this:

November 2004 - apparently the first year of marriage agreed with me a little too much

January 2005 - Heaviest I've ever been.  This was my before picture; lost 45 pounds that year.

And although I still complained about my boobs and my postpartum belly sag and my stretch marks and this genetic predisposition I have towards something akin to dowager's hump ... despite all that, I did feel more confident and proud of what my strong body could do.

Unfortunately, today I'm back to where I felt a few years ago, even if I'm not that overweight.


March 2011 - The most recent picture of me

Want to know why that's the most recent picture of me?  Because I don't like how I look right now.  That's a picture of me a week after I ran my first half marathon.  I should be taking delight in what my body is capable of; instead, I'm cropping pictures to show the least amount of me possible.  Pathetic.  I come by my negative body image honestly - my Gran was known for cutting herself out of pictures she didn't like.  I wonder what kind of field day she would have had if she had Photoshop!

Here's the lesson of the day and where I'm asking for accountability.  Would I trade a year of my life for the perfect body?  Looking back, I've traded much longer than that.  If you add up all the time I've spent trying to reach my goal of perfection and believing I had little worth, wasn't I just throwing years away?  Yes, I want to lose weight and fit into a size 8 again.  Of course I do.  But I want to teach my sons the amazing things a fit body can do.  I want to enjoy ALL of who I am and stop obsessing over attaining perfection.  I'm not going to throw out my scale, I need to keep track.  I'm not going to stop negative self talk immediately, that'll take time.  But I am going to set goals.  And then break them down into smaller goals.  I'll report back when I've come up with them!

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And now we interrupt our programming to talk about the kids!

Curly accidentally called my Dad's cell phone this morning.  So lucky that he didn't manage to call 911!

Slim has really been missing R lately.  As I said in my first post, R has an insane commute.  Long story as to why.  Poor Slim has started asking R not to go to work. :(  He's breaking our hearts!