Celebrating Sendak

As I’m sure you know, Maurice Sendak passed away on May 8th. I’ve been meaning to celebrate him here with some links to his Stephen Colbert interview. As with all things in my life these days, the post happened later than anticipated. Woops!

It’s a two-part interview. Both parts are definitely worth your time if you (a) are an author (b) support free speech (c) loved Where The Wild Things Are (d) enjoy laughing or (e) some combo of the above. I watched it during lunch at work and almost snorted Sprite out my nose. Delightful.

Super Grandma Salute

Sweet Pea with Grandma

Happy Mother’s Day to all my fellow mamas out there–especially the ones who’ve helped me so much during Sweet Pea’s first year! I couldn’t have survived without your advice, assistance, and stories from the parenting trenches.

I would like to take this opportunity to focus on my own mother, better known these days as Super Grandma. Let’s be honest, here. The woman is ridiculously amazing. She’s invested tons of time, care, and love into our whole family. Frankly, I always took that for granted. In fact, I just assumed that her brand of patience (to say nothing for her impressive housekeeping skills) were immediately acquired the minute one became a mother. I thought, for instance, that as soon as I spawned a wee one I would automatically know how to fold a fitted sheet. I also thought that I’d naturally want to focus all of my attention on Sweet Pea’s antics–whenever she wanted me, 24-7, world without end, amen.

Alas, it is not so.

This year, I’ve come to appreciate motherhood as an endurance sport: rewarding and wonderful, yes, but not without its painful days (and painful obligations). I am so grateful to the foundation my mother has given me, to say nothing for the constant help as I figure out my own parenting style.  Thanks, Mom! You set the bar impossibly high… but I guess that’s the way it should be.

The Perils of Public Parenting

A friend of mine I haven’t seen in a while wanted to get together at Applebee’s. We were celebrating her pregnancy. Sweet Pea came along for the ride.

Like any good 21st century mother, I brought along pumped breast milk and homemade organic food in sealed containers. I had separate Ziploc bags for her clean and dirty eating utensils/receptacles. I brought a washable cover for the public high chair and two different toys on little links–I could link toys to the high chair! They’d never touch the ground! It would be epic and germ-free!

Sweet Pea, of course, was having none of it. She detached her toys and threw them to the floor within 5 seconds. She then grabbed one of the menus and started gnawing on it. And honestly? I didn’t care. I was thinking, “I really want to visit with my friend. This is making you happy. You will probably live through whatever germs you might pick up. In fact, picking up germs might be good for you. I am not raising you in a hermetically sealed bubble so that you can grow up to be that perpetually snot-nosed kid in kindergarten.”

Best, least selfish parenting decision I’ve ever made? Absolutely not. There was definitely some justification of laziness going on.

But even when I’m on eagle-eyed surveillance, Sweet Pea somehow manages to sneak my keys in her mouth (or, my favorite, chew the bottom of my high heel. Nasty!) I have to believe she can handle germs–even, in the occasional case, a generous helping of germs.

So I let it ride… until one of the hostesses barreled across the room, took the menu from my baby, and chastised, “You can’t let your daughter have this! It’s filthy! I’ll go get you some crackers.” I thanked her, demurred on the crackers, and felt a little spike of rage.

I mean, really. It’s not like I was dipping my child in a vat of ebola virus.

So now I’m feeling annoyed that (a) a total stranger felt it within her rights to interfere with my parenting decisions (b) this same total stranger probably thinks I’m a terrible mother (c) my brief interaction with the total stranger has me wondering if I’m a terrible mother and finally (d) that I lack the emotional balance and self-confidence to just write this off. (Three minutes of some random lady’s work day just became a whole night of agonizing for me.)

And speaking of agonizing… (e) what if my kid does manage to get ebola from gnawing on the Applebee’s menu?

There are days when motherhood really sucks. This is one of them.

Nerf Baby

I now have tangible proof that there is, in fact, a God. And He (or She) certainly operates the universe according to a plan.

From whence, do you ask, comes this burst of divine faith? From a lunch conversation several days ago. We all got on the topic of harrowing baby mishaps: children falling off of changing stations, aunties accidentally smashing little toddler heads against the undersides of bay windows, and (my personal favorite) games of “toss the laughing baby” gone horribly awry due to the presence of a ceiling fan–of a TURNED ON ceiling fan.

Now, the reason I enjoyed these stories was not because I’m sadistic and evil. It’s because these incidents all involved babies who are now children or adults… and all fully-functioning members of society. At the time, I listened with a certain level of smugness, thinking, “The worst I’ve ever done to Sweet Pea is accidentally ‘burp’ the back of her head one night when I was too tired to realize what I was patting.”

Then today, I was swinging Sweet Pea onto my shoulders as I’ve done a thousand times before. Only this time, I happened to be (thoughtlessly) standing under one of the beautiful low archways in our 1940s home. I’m sure you can guess what happened: bump. Cry. Guilt. Oh, and then guilt compounded 15 minutes later, when I was trying to fasten the last snap on her onesie as she crawled away. It was like a physics problem gone awry, all at-odds force and momentum. She pitched her head into the floor and wailed like I’d pushed her there on purpose.

Mother of the Year, right here.

So what does all of this have to do with God, you ask?  Well, if I hadn’t heard those stories at lunch, I’d be having a case of apocalytpic terror right now. There would be phone calls to the doctor, and bright lights shining in Sweet Pea’s eyes. There would be lying awake at night, wondering how many points our little head knock shaved off her SAT score.

As it is, I just feel like a bad person. But I’m a bad person who’s less worried about whether she’s caused her daughter permanent brain damage… so hey, let’s call it a win.

The universe is, indeed, benevolent.

Parenting Priorities

backyard fun

Growing up, I never observed Lent. But having many Catholic friends means that Lent is now on my radar.

The traditional purpose of Lent (according to that bastion of spiritual expertise, Wikipedia) is for a Christian to engage in concentrated prayer, penance, repentance, and self-denial. Hence the 40-day fasting and/or making of resolutions.

Since college, many of my friends have observed Lent out of a spirit of camaraderie with and respect for religious friends. I’ve always tried to adhere to my friend Theresa’s interpretation: “don’t use it as an excuse to jumpstart a diet. Jesus isn’t Jenny Craig. Pick something that helps you to be mindful about the quality of your life and the intention with which you live it.”

In the past, I’ve tried to give up both whining and gossip. It’s never worked. (Shocking, I know!)

This year, I am ostensibly adding something–40 days of more time spent playing with my daughter. Clearly, though, that time will have to come from somewhere else. Less Facebook, less cleaning… I’m going to have to shift my priorities to find some mommy-daughter fun time.

Clearly, I won’t give up all cleaning. For one thing, the more I play with Sweet Pea, the more I notice her grubby little fingernails. She rolls and picks up tons of carpet or floor lint (note to self: mop more often!)

She’s also at the perfect height for under-couch exploratory work. So, yes. I will have to continue my efforts to minimize her exposure to petrified popcorn and monster dust bunnies.

But I always intended to enjoy parenthood, not to treat it like a chore. Does my daily life match up to this lofty goal? Sadly, no. Hence the Lenten resolution.

And at this point, changing my ways means getting as much floor time with Sweet Pea as possible. So quiet down, ambitions. Closet, stay disorganized. The next 40 days are about ring stackers, stroller walks, and stuffed animals!

Are you observing Lent? If so, how?

Snowmageddon 2012

Snow days in the Pacific Northwest are truly wonderful. Ice glazes the branches. Hipsters and hippies alike roam the closed streets, sporting North Face jackets and ski-flap caps. Snow clings to the trees the same way frosting clumps on a mini-wheat. And everywhere you go, people are friendly and helpful.

So why am I going crazy?

Pioneer woman, I am not.

I am officially disgusted with my own lack of fortitude. We were never in dire straits. Heck, even when our power went out I was still checking Facebook and texting friends on my smart phone… and we huddled in our lightless home (yeah, at noon on a fairly sunny day) for a whole two hours before walking down to our electricity-abled friends’ place. My worst issue during the whole winter storm had to be the fear that our freezer would defrost, thereby ruining my treasured stash of breast milk. (Scoff if you will, but that stuff is liquid gold!)

Why am I such a winter wimp? Perhaps it’s the fact that I live in 800 square feet with a very tall husband and a squirmy-wormy baby. Maybe it’s the psychological feeling of being trapped (when I tried to take Sweet Pea out for a ramble, a tire on her stroller popped. Curses!) Or maybe it’s just the sad truth that I’m a hard-core multitasker who can’t seem to handle gobs of unexpected free time. It makes me feel weirdly guilty. Like, why am I snuggling my kiddo and eating tons of chicken noodle soup when I could be recaulking the bathtub?

Seriously.

A coworker posted this chart on her Facebook page and I think it describes the harsh reality quite well:

All whining aside, though, it was an EXCELLENT opportunity to put Sweet Pea in her bear suit. (And doesn’t she just rock the look?)

If you want to read the blog post that inspired me on this subject, check out my friend Suzanne’s infinitely more thoughtful musings here.

How do you like to spend your snow days? Do you even GET snow days where you live–or do you spend your winters plowing through the drifts, laughing at wimpy Pacific Northwesterners?