Untitled from planet pink on Vimeo.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
It Takes A Special Person To Be A Christmas Baby
It means your mama was in labor on Christmas Day.
Your very first Christmas was spent in the hospital.
It means that forever you will have your siblings (and the rest of the world) open presents on your birthday.
That's sort of not fair.
It means that the days leading up to your birthday are consumed with busyness, shopping, baking, travelling...
Often that results in plans for your birthday getting lost in the shuffle.
Often that results in plans for your birthday getting lost in the shuffle.
It means that for the rest of your life when asked you will have to engage in this conversation:
you: My birthday is December 25th.
someone else: You were born on Christmas?!
you: (sigh) Yes. Christmas.
(it happens you know, babies don't have calendars in utero)
It means that you will always have to share your day.
It will never just be your own.
But.
It also means that your birthday will never be forgotten.
That will be especially helpful for your future husband.
It means that you get extra special treatment
Because mommy wants to make sure that you're not overlooked.
It means extra presents.
Nothing bad about that!
And it means being birthday buddies with 3 very important people in our lives:
Jesus Christ
Great Grandpa
and Nana.
You are one lucky little lady.
Happy 6th Birthday my sweet Princess #2!
You bring so much joy to our lives.
Your smile is infectious.
Your heart is so big.
You are so loved.
You bring so much joy to our lives.
Your smile is infectious.
Your heart is so big.
You are so loved.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Art 101
In the last week, I've had two different sets of friends give birth to their first baby. In the world of parenting, it's always interesting to watch reality unfold for these couples as they are first handed that slimy, squirmy, wrinkled newborn and told, "Congratulations! Now good luck!".
If you've ever had an, "Uh, now what?" moment, this is it.
The reality is, whether we like it or not, we all walk into parenting with certain expectations. Even the expectation of having no expectations.
I really dislike unsolicited advice, so I tend to shy away from offering any myself. But if asked, my favorite thing to say is, "Hang on tight. Just when you think you've got them figured out, they change the rules." And it's so true. It pains me so much to see new parents desperately trying to fit their baby into the mold that was described in The Book, when so many times the baby is making their own mold (and breaking it in the process).
I figure bringing home a baby for the first time is like looking at a blank canvas. I can't imagine for the life of me why a parenting couple would try to frame the masterpiece (in other words, choose a parenting style) before it's completed. What if the frame doesn't fit? What if it doesn't match the style of the artwork? What if they accidentally get paint outside the frame and on the wall? What if they just don't like the frame they've chosen once they get it home and get it on the wall?
Sometimes the most beautiful works of art don't begin with a calculated plan. Sometimes, the artist who allows the paint to flow freely without restraints of "How To" books discovers the most honest work.
Expectations are bound to exist. But I think true parenting beauty can be found when we allow ourselves to look beyond the expectations, past the "rules" that babies are supposed to follow, and we embrace the true work of art given to us, and build a frame that's truly worth the beauty it encompasses.
 |
| Princess #3, fresh. |
The reality is, whether we like it or not, we all walk into parenting with certain expectations. Even the expectation of having no expectations.
I really dislike unsolicited advice, so I tend to shy away from offering any myself. But if asked, my favorite thing to say is, "Hang on tight. Just when you think you've got them figured out, they change the rules." And it's so true. It pains me so much to see new parents desperately trying to fit their baby into the mold that was described in The Book, when so many times the baby is making their own mold (and breaking it in the process).
I figure bringing home a baby for the first time is like looking at a blank canvas. I can't imagine for the life of me why a parenting couple would try to frame the masterpiece (in other words, choose a parenting style) before it's completed. What if the frame doesn't fit? What if it doesn't match the style of the artwork? What if they accidentally get paint outside the frame and on the wall? What if they just don't like the frame they've chosen once they get it home and get it on the wall?
Sometimes the most beautiful works of art don't begin with a calculated plan. Sometimes, the artist who allows the paint to flow freely without restraints of "How To" books discovers the most honest work.
Expectations are bound to exist. But I think true parenting beauty can be found when we allow ourselves to look beyond the expectations, past the "rules" that babies are supposed to follow, and we embrace the true work of art given to us, and build a frame that's truly worth the beauty it encompasses.
Monday, January 3, 2011
I'm Just Gonna Put It Out There
I am glad my girls are back in school today.
It was time. T.I.M.E.
You will not see me posting on Facebook, lamenting the end of a beautiful Christmas break, and wondering how on earth I'll manage the day without my princesses by my side.
I am not that kind of mom.
I think that's ok.
We need our space from each other. The princesses seem to have this idea that I am their cruise director. And they want guidance on what to do next every.waking.minute.
This does not put me in a good mood.
Nor does it put the princesses in a good mood. 'Cause when mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
I don't think this makes me a bad mom. I used to read those status updates on Facebook and wonder what was wrong with me. Why do I more often look forward to the first day of school rather than bemoan the fact that limitless days with my children are at an end?
The answer is simple. Because I'm me.
As long as I'm true to me, and work within the framework that makes up my personality and character, and accept my limitations and shortcomings, we are all happy. Because I'm not trying to "fix" me, or trying to be something I'm not. I'm just being me. And that's exactly who I'm supposed to be, and that's the best kind of mom I can be for my kids. It's what they need.
Will I miss the princesses today? Maybe. Maybe not.
I know they are growing, they are learning, they are socializing. And they are gaining insights into the world that I cannot offer them when they are constantly underfoot, whining about being bored and begging to do something "fun".
Yes, the space is a good thing for us. It makes our time together much happier. Today is a good day.
My friends, have you learned to accept the kind of mom (or parent) you are? Do you wish you were different? How do you strike a balance between growing as a parent and yet still coming to terms with certain personality limitations?
It was time. T.I.M.E.
You will not see me posting on Facebook, lamenting the end of a beautiful Christmas break, and wondering how on earth I'll manage the day without my princesses by my side.
I am not that kind of mom.
I think that's ok.
We need our space from each other. The princesses seem to have this idea that I am their cruise director. And they want guidance on what to do next every.waking.minute.
This does not put me in a good mood.
Nor does it put the princesses in a good mood. 'Cause when mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
I don't think this makes me a bad mom. I used to read those status updates on Facebook and wonder what was wrong with me. Why do I more often look forward to the first day of school rather than bemoan the fact that limitless days with my children are at an end?
The answer is simple. Because I'm me.
As long as I'm true to me, and work within the framework that makes up my personality and character, and accept my limitations and shortcomings, we are all happy. Because I'm not trying to "fix" me, or trying to be something I'm not. I'm just being me. And that's exactly who I'm supposed to be, and that's the best kind of mom I can be for my kids. It's what they need.
Will I miss the princesses today? Maybe. Maybe not.
I know they are growing, they are learning, they are socializing. And they are gaining insights into the world that I cannot offer them when they are constantly underfoot, whining about being bored and begging to do something "fun".
Yes, the space is a good thing for us. It makes our time together much happier. Today is a good day.
My friends, have you learned to accept the kind of mom (or parent) you are? Do you wish you were different? How do you strike a balance between growing as a parent and yet still coming to terms with certain personality limitations?
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Here's What I Just Realized:
Once I get the princesses to bed at the end of the day, I clock out. Mentally, my work day is done. It is almost physically impossible for me to convince myself to tackle the mountain of clothes waiting to be folded, or the dirty dishes that need to be rinsed and put in the dishwasher. I know they're there, waiting. And the guilt is there too. But I just can't. The couch and all it's relaxing splendor is too tempting to resist.
In my mind, it would be like Hubs clocking out at work and then going back to do two more hours of work off the clock. Do you think I'd be ok with that? Um, no. Who would?
So I've trained myself to operate the same way. Jammied kiddos, brushed, tucked, and snuggled. Songs sung and prayers said. Kisses to all and lights out.
Click. Mommy's clocked out. Overtime only available upon request.
PS. Hi my friends. I've missed you. :-)
In my mind, it would be like Hubs clocking out at work and then going back to do two more hours of work off the clock. Do you think I'd be ok with that? Um, no. Who would?
So I've trained myself to operate the same way. Jammied kiddos, brushed, tucked, and snuggled. Songs sung and prayers said. Kisses to all and lights out.
Click. Mommy's clocked out. Overtime only available upon request.
PS. Hi my friends. I've missed you. :-)
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