Momtra

www.artoftheangels.com

This morning Ella ran into our room, started pulling on my leg, and began asking with utter weariness "why is it taking sooooo long for my light to turn green???!!!".  As I always do, I looked at the clock on my nightstand, and was relieved to see that it was 5:30.  "You only have thirty more minutes Ella, back to your room".  With a dramatic sigh, she stomped back to her bedroom, and swiped a slice a bread for good measure on the way.

In the past, I would have spent the next thirty minutes wracking my brain trying, for the life of me, to make sense of her sleep patterns, her behaviors, just "her" in general. My panic button would have been flashing, my anxiety peaking, my brain fast forwarding ten years, catastrophizing everything, because I cannot always understand my little bird. But today, I finally just thought to myself "it's who she is, go back to sleep".  And I almost did, but then I couldn't, because I was just so darn excited about how much freedom there was in "letting it go".  In "letting her go".

Now, I know that most of you have embraced this, but it was a long time coming for me, and furthermore, a daily struggle that continues.  It's daily work, to not mico-manage, to not want to control. There is this lurking fear that if I don't enforce a rule, maintain a routine, remind her of manners, and teach her about values, she might go down the wrong path, appear rude or strange, start behaving terribly to the point of no return, and refuse to eat anything but pancakes for the rest of her life.

Obviously, as parents it's important to be consistent, to teach basic manners and values.  But the other stuff, the attempts to tweak the parts of her that overwhelm me, so that she makes more sense to me, well that's just my own baggage that I'm plopping onto her tiny and beautiful wings. How in the world could any bird fly while carrying suitcases full of old insecurities, wounds and fears?  Their own precious wings would never even have a chance of opening.

 I remember being younger, and listening to women talk about how they "were over" caring about what people thought.  I observed how they carried themselves, how they just were so natural, and simply able to enjoy themselves in the moment.  It made zero sense to me, because these women were not perfect, by my twenty year old definition, so how in the world could they sit back and just enjoy life?  How did they not worry about the way their bodies looked when they sat in a room,  or if their make up was too much or too little?  Why didn't they seem to care one iota about what they said, or how they said it?  Why were some of them just quiet, but not uncomfortable in their quietness?   It was impossible for me to put my finger on it, but I now know, it was simply confidence.

It took me thirty-two years, but I finally feel I'm just entering this extraordinary stage of life.  For once I can sit back, be in a moment, and truly not give a snail's tail what anyone thinks.  I've embraced my body through thick and thin, and have finally come to realize that my body is not who I am, it simply holds who I am.  I've embraced that I need more down time than the average hibernating bear, and I'm finally not ashamed to ask for it.  Parties full of strangers can freak me out, but that doesn't make me a freak. The phone is my enemy, and maybe that seems weird, so be it. I am not flawed, I'm Liz.

To reach this place is to finally breath fully.  Not just half breaths that only partially sustain, but really big full breaths that energize and rejuvenate me.  Because I can finally rest in who I am, and know how much joy that brings to my soul, I just want to do everything in my power to provide the same for my kids.  It's only natural that they will have self doubt, that they will question who they are, but it will not be because I am trying to change them, or because I am sending the message that they are flawed by subtly trying to adjust who they are.
 
My job as a parent is to raise ELLA and CORA, not RAISE ella and cora.  They are who they are going to be for the rest of their lives right now, and nothing I say or do is going to change that.  The best thing I can do, is provide them with coping strategies to gently work through their precious soft spots, and help them make the most of their unique gifts. 

Also, I tried to tweak this little birdie the other day, and found that it was useless.  She was embracing her inner "Ella" - which translates to a firm refusal to brush or style her hair, combined with an ambivalence towards matching and/or wearing seasonally appropriate attire for thirty degree weather. We argued, I cringed, and I let it go....

 My Proud Peacock

Moments like this, I try to remember the following:

"Do not ask that your kids live up to your expectations. Let your kids be who they are, and your expectations will be in breathless pursuit" - Robert Brault 

I hope that you and I alike are able to let our babies fly freely, without the weight of our past, without the weight of our expectations, so that they may be more stunning and more unique than anything we could have ever imagined.  For my thirty second year of life, I'm going to try to make this my "Momtra", and I hope you do too :-) 

Raindrops on Roses, and Whiskers on Kittens....

If you have a song running through your head right now, then you are awesome, and we should watch The Sound of Music together.  If you feel a strong urge to stop reading right now, and burst into song, then you are probably one of my aunts, and I love and miss you.  If you are Anthony, you are already in the shower singing about brown paper packages,  errrr...crisp apple strudel, and I love you the most.  Or maybe, you have clicked out of this blog, and you're back onto Facebook, and that's okay too :-)  I get it, uber cheesy and images of Anthony in the shower isn't for everyone. 

Julie Andrews is the bomb though, and so right on.  When you're feeling all down and out,  you simply need to remember your favorite things, and then, you don't feel rotten.  Kind of like these things......cue the music, brain...

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things.

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things

Okay, pardon my gushing....but...Oh MY GOD.  Who on this green earth does not love all of these things?  To be perfectly honest, I'm fairly indifferent to blue satin sashes, but the cream ponies, schnitzel with noodles, and winters that melt into spring??  Good golly, style me a sweeping coif, send me to Austria, and call me Governess already!

Seriously though, this song naturally found it's way into my head as I thought about how very content I've felt over the past couple of weeks.  It's somewhat of a rare occasion around here, to not be bothered by the laundry and dust bunnies around here. 
  
When I started to evaluate what had changed in my life, I couldn't really think of much.  That's when I realized that nothing had changed, but quite a lot had shifted.  For instance, I'm slightly bananas over anything photography, and though I'm a novice on the subject, I've begun bringing my camera with me in the car. Now, whenever I see something beautiful, I can allow myself five minutes of "play" time to pull over, and try and capture it.  In the evenings, instead of Anthony and I sitting in separate areas of house, looking at separate screens, we have begun sitting next to each other on the couch to play words with friends. When the kids are FINALLY asleep, I make us popcorn, and we meet in bed to watch the terribly romantic "Walking Dead". 

Initially, our goal was to start doing puzzles together in the evening, while listening to Ira Glass, but there is a minor affliction of competitiveness, which hangs heavy in the air around here.  The last time we attempted to do a puzzle of three Teddy Bears, it was very, I mean, extreeeemely stressful.  Rules were quickly put in place as to who did what part, at what time of day, and there was to be no after hours puzzling, because what could be worse than waking up in the morning to find that someone had cheated, and completed mama Bear's flowered velour hat???  So, our 35 piece "Winter Scene" puzzle remains in the impossible to open box, and Cora can walk around shaking it to her hearts content.

But I digress, back to the things that are shifting, no pun intended of course...

Some variety of music plays continually in the house, and I've had the opportunity to experiment with tasty new recipes.  I read each night before bed. We've been spending time as a family with extended family.  When I notice that I'm looking down and in, I remind myself to look up and out, and before I know it, positive energy returns.  God and I are having conversations again, but just a few here and there.  Not nearly enough, but I have to start somewhere.

We are not wealthy, we drive used cars and rent our house.  Most everything we purchase is on sale, discounted, consigned, donated, or handed down. We don't own iPhones or flat screen TVs, and we don't have cable.  Our kids have yet to go on a "real" vacation, and we keep things forever.  It's all pretty void of frills, fairly simple living. You might not believe it, but the God to honest truth is, we are some of the richest people I know.  Our lives are just so darn rich.

If I were to write a song about my favorite things, it would go something like this - (To the Tune of "My Favorite Things", obviously)

Kid hugs with snuggles and kisses on noses,

Ella destroying a bouquet of roses,

Dancing to Vinyl while everyone sings,

These are a few of my favorite things.

White wine with dinner that tastes so darn yummy,

Ice cream with a good book in bed with my honey,

Photos in the woods of my babies hiking,

these are a few of my favorite things.

Sleepy baby faces first thing in the morning,

Ella playing teacher and giving firm warnings,

Getting to bedtime without a spanking,

These are a few of my favorite things!!!

When Sibly bites, when my head hurts, when I'm feeling mad,

I simply remember my favorite things, and then I start to feeeeeeeel, soooooo RAAAD!!!

Impressive right?  Trust me, it's not as complicated as you might think. Once you sit down to write your own, the lyrics will just pour out.  Maria is an inspiration, and I'm not even being cheeky. (For my Mary Poppins Fans of course).

My favorite Nature Lovers

My Favorite Music Lovers

For some people, I believe this kind of thinking comes easily and naturally.  For me, staying content, staying "positive" takes some guided effort now and then.  Wherever this lands for you, I hope it helps you to remember and think about the things in your life that are so simple, the things that make your soul smile. 

As moms we work very hard to make sure everyone is taken care of, and often times we forget about ourselves.  But, every living thing, even mamas, especially mamas, need nourishment to survive and thrive.  I'm always amazed at what just a little bit of water and sunshine can do for a plant that's on it's way out.

So with that in mind, what are some small and simple shifts that you could make that would in turn make big changes in your day to day outlook?  An art or yoga class?  Spending more time with your honey and family?  Snuggling with your kiddos?  Maybe you need to get AWAY from you family? You won't find any judgement from me!  Perhaps taking some time to get outside?  Giving more instead of getting more?  Whatever feeds your soul will help to feed those around you, so get to it, and love on yourself a little bit :-)  Then write a song and send it to me, okay?  And before I go, here is one more of my favorite things, I hope you like it too!!  Love you,

Liz

The Pearson Project

Cupcake Monster

I know you've all been waiting, with bated breath, to see how our sleep boot camp turned out, so I thought I would give you a little update.  It's taken me a minute to get down with the blog thing, as things have been slightly haywire around here.  See, going back to work gives us about an hour a day of free time, which I realize is probably more than the average working parent gets, but still, it's never ever enough. When I finally reach this sacred hour of the day, my brain waves are running at a very low frequency with minimal oxygen to fuel them, so I am forced to sit on my behind scrolling mindlessly through Etsy and Facebook.  Sometimes, I remember to breath, and they spike for twenty minutes.  When that happens, I'll swiffer the floor and pretend it's clean for a few weeks, before doing a real mopping job, ya know, with the bucket and everything. That's actually a lie.  I pretend it's clean until I notice how the knees of Cora's pajamas are all becoming "earth" colored, and then I feel gross and neglectful, and so I do a deep clean pick her up, and move her to another room with carpeting.  Either way, the last thing I can do is organize a thought to write a sentence.  All of my thought organization gets caught up in making a single school lunch.  Who would have thought?  That task can be so taxing, but only for people like me, I promise. Don't let me scare you out of it. I can, and will, make most things more complicated than they will ever, EVER need to be. 

Which brings me back to sleep boot camp. As you might or might not imagine, laying on the couch at the apex of two bedrooms that could erupt at any point in the night with crying, or children stomping from them, kind of sucks.  There is the startle factor for one. It was like trying to fall asleep when you know the night will be full of perfectly timed fireworks in your neighbor's yard. It's all just a wee bit close for comfort. Second, I already go between my own bed and the daybed in the nursery. Adding a third sleeping location simply can't be healthy.  Half the time I wake up having no idea where I am, and blink blankly into the night until I get myself sorted out. It's amazing I haven't tried to breastfeed Anthony yet.  Then again....whatev...

We didn't throw in the towel right away with the whole couch thing though, because it did seem to show some promise.  Ella would inevitably wake up, come out of her room, and whoever was on the couch would walk her back to bed without interaction. At first, she put up a wicked fight, screaming like a monster for about 20 minutes, but eventually, she chilled and got the message.  The problem was, although she didn't stay up and play, she also didn't go to sleep.  She would just lay there, awake, sighing.

So, the behavior had been modified, but not the underlying issue. That being, that Ella could not sleep.

I did some research, I googled until I was googly eyed and came to a conclusion. Rather than confusing you with the ass backwards details of how exactly I came to the conclusion, in a nutshell, I determined that what would be easiest, would certainly be to eliminate an entire food group, rather than to sleep on the couch any longer. I felt that if I rid our house of everything delicious and convenient, our world would be right again. So I put on my big girl panties, and with smelling salts in hand, I approached the family, and declared the house GLUTEN FREE.  Yes, gluten, the  ingredient contained in all foods deemed delicious, by anyone with a heart would from that day forward, be banished from our home.  I know, you are thinking what the HELL?  I mean, when it comes to wheat, our child is like an ant to a lollipop in the August sun.  But as you know, we've tried EVERYTHING else, EVERYTHING ELSE PEOPLE.

A snapshot for my reasoning behind going gluten free, is because of the quality of wheat that is in foods these days.  It's just not your grandmother's wheat anymore.  I think this article explains it very well, I just randomly came across it the other day.   http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dr-mark-hyman/wheat-gluten_b_1274872.html.

As you know, whatever you eat has an impact on your entire body chemistry, especially your brain.  I also knew that sometimes our bodies crave foods that we are actually sensitive too, and sometimes have an allergy too.  Ella loved whole wheat bread so much that I would find piles of books stacked on top of baby strollers in front of the kitchen counter where we kept the stuff.  It appeared that she had been using her architecture skills throughout the middle of the night. The bag would be torn open, a trail of crumbs leading back to her bed. Yes, this was the food to take away, and obviously, ONLY good things would result.  I know how well I handle the world when Anthony takes away my Pinot. So, we cleared away all the food containing wheat, and we'll just say it was a rough few days...she may or may not have lived off of string cheese and air.

We've worked it out though - they make GF substitutes for most everything, if you want to pay ten times as much, which we do, because we are ten times as sleep deprived as other people.   I make her lunch everyday for school, which is kind of neat because sometimes I pack her a little treat.  It's a total PITA when it comes to going out to eat, visiting friends, having treats/desserts/parties etc. because she doesn't totally understand what's going on.  The last thing I want to do is tell her that a food is going to make her sick, and I don't want to lie and tell her she has an allergy.  So far, I've told her that mommy is NOT good at packing lunches, and since she is going to big girl school next year, and she has to bring her lunch, I need to start practicing NOW.  She didn't argue that one. Still,  I am TERRIFIED of giving her a complex where she thinks she is "sick", or where she thinks there is such thing as "good food" and "bad food".  We're trying to keep it flexible, but GF is NOT flexible, especially when isles upon isles of stores are dedicated to everything gluten filled and processed that children adore.

It's been about a month now of being consistently Gluten free.  And, since Anthony is the king of data, he comprised a graph, so that we won't be subjective in our analysis of how her sleep is affected by her diet.  Can I ask a serious question though....is there anything sexier than "The King of Data?".  Golly!  Such a lucky gal.  I digress, can't help it. 

I wanted to upload the graph, so you could decipher the data, but then as I looked, and saw how obsessive we had become with all our little anecdotal comments, I felt slightly embarrassed, and thought it wise to just give you a summary instead. 

Ella now sleeps through the night, more or less.  We had one blip where she was up multiple times one night, but she had a cupcake that day at school, so of  course I blamed the gluten.  I thought this blip was an indicator that we were on the right track, however, we went to my in laws house for dinner the other night, and she had a mac daddy size helping of mac n cheese, AND cake, AND slept like a champ.  Oh, did I mention no melatonin anymore?

So after all our hard work, is it possible that it was all for nothing? Quite possibly....Still, here are my non-scientific conclusions from our non scientific data driven study:

1. Whether gluten plays a role in Ella's sleep or not, it is an unnecessary product, and from what I can tell, is evil.  Almost anyone who eliminates it from their diet will probably feel WAY better.

2.  Since eliminating it from my own diet, I have almost no spikes and dips in blood sugar, leading to much fewer blood sugar related headaches.

3. I get maybe 1 migraine a week, down from 3 or more a week - that alone is amazing to me.

4. When you eliminate gluten, you have no choice but to eat more whole foods, so you just are healthier in general.  Convenience foods no longer exist, unless you want to pay out of you bum.

5. Ella has been forced to deal with eating different foods, because she was starving.  

6. Rest assured that when you have spent hours researching to help your child with their problems, and you believe you have FINALLY found the solution, they will miraculously recover without any need for your brilliant interventions. Everything, yes EVERYTHING is a phase.  Even if it lasts a year, it's a phase. It appears that we really do go to the ends of the earth for love, or sometimes just to the end of 18 pages in a google search.  As parents, we often do it only for our own sanity anyway, and as always, we learn they are, and will be fine.  They are better with us, but they do surprisingly well without us too. 

I have to remember to stop worrying so much about making sure my child will be okay, and start realizing that she already is okay, just like this.  Sometimes it's okay to sit back and put down the adjustment tools, and just let her be.  If it feels good to me, it probably feels great for her.

Chick Fil-a-ing me up!!

So, I was just mopping the kitchen floor, and all of a sudden, out of nowhere, I found myself getting all fired up over this Chick fil a busy-ness.  I don't know, maybe it was bringing me back to my days of mopping floors at the pizzeria, and I was finding a soft spot in my heart for workers of food chains, but whatever the reason, I felt I had to share my mind. 

I'm not one to share my opinions, mostly because very little upsets me, outside of husbands, children, barking dogs, traffic, to do lists, work, grocery shopping, and the like.  When it comes to politics and religion, I find myself fairly tolerant, and forgiving.  If you tell me a man murdered his entire family, in my mind, I figure he probably had a shitty life, missed out on a lot of love, and in the big picture, we can't be mad at him.  That kind of thinking drives some people CRAZY, they call it crunchy, I call it understanding.

Anyway, chick fil a, and all this hype is quite silly to me.  Before I moved south about six years ago, I had never even heard of Chick Fil A, but EVERYONE DROOLED when the words rolled off their tongue, so I went there.  The sandwich was, meh?  I didn't understand why there was one pickle there, and nothing else.  I've learned to love it though, and so do my kids.  I could live off of those party platters of chicken paws, or whatever they are. 

When I learned that it was closed on Sundays, I thought it was kind of cool, particularly in this day and age.  How many businesses stand up for what they believe in, at the risk of losing profit?  I support that.  BUT, when I'm driving down the highway, and see a sign for Chick Fil A, and I'm STARVING, and I've already eaten all my finger nails, and I see that it's CLOSED because it's SUNDAY, all I can say is DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT, and realize I forgot to go to church.  Then I say a little prayer, that they will change their policy, and that God will forgive me for thinking about chicken before Him.

So obviously, this company prides itself on it's Christian values.  How many corporate businesses close on Sunday?  Now, I never sat down and went issue by issue, considering what the Christian people at Chick Fil A would have to say about it, but if I had, I think it would have been obvious.  I mean, they are doing things "Old School", the way businesses were run when my parents were kids, and who supported gay marriage when my parents were little?  No one, not even the little children who knew they were gay.  It was too scary.

But, if I had taken the time to stare reality in the face, and ask myself the question, "I wonder how Chick Fil A feels about gay marriage?", the answer would have been clear.  Chick Fil A, more than likely, does not support gay marriage.  At that point, I could have decided for myself, as an adult, whether or not I wanted to continue to support their business.  

For the record, I completely support gay marriage.  It is my opinion that when a child is born, they are created with a set personality, and there are certain things you will never change about them.  Ella is strong willed, and stubborn as Hell.  I will never change that, and I don't want to, because she comes through me, she is not "of" me.  She is her own person, and I will not expect her to be anything else.  Cora is VERY serious, and has perfect comedic timing.  I did not give that to her, it is simply what God gave her.  If either of my children ever came to me and told me they were gay, I would embrace them, and hold them with the biggest smile ever, that told them they were my baby, and I was proud of who they were.  I would hold them tight,  so that hey felt safe and comfortable enough to share with me every detail of what they want for their life, even if it is terribly difficult and scary.

I simply cannot imagine either of my children approaching me to ask "why we can't go to Chick Fil A", and me answering "because we don't feel the same way that they feel".  What kind of world would I be teaching them about?  One where we don't tolerate differences?  One where when someone has an opinion that bumps up against ours, we cast them out from our lives?  How does that translate?

I believe in God, I believe in the Christian way of life, but the God I believe in does not, and would not create a person one way, and then state that the life they lead is wrong.  The God I believe in wants us to love our neighbors and our enemies as we love ourselves. 

My life has been enriched not by the people who are just like me, but by the people who are my polar opposite.  At first, they seem evil, so off base, but peel away the layers.  It's in that moment, when you finally find common ground, when you realize that fundamentally, you are all the same people, with the same issues, just different words put to them. That's when real living happens, that's when real loving happens.  And that is my crunchy post for the day, Amen. lol.

Sleeping Beauty

The world continues to baffle me and fascinate me in equal parts.  Lately, or rather, for the past year, my three year old, and her inability to sleep has simply captivated me, in the most unromantic sense of the word.

To be perfectly honest, which you know I can't help but be, there is no lack of sleep issues in this house. She comes by it naturally, just like her fuzzy legs, but I can't take much credit for those.  As a child, I would wake in the middle of the night and "act out" my dreams.  Aware that I was dreaming, but unable to fully wake up, I would sit in bed and interact with "people", sometimes for hours. It was one thing to be dreaming about hanging out with my high school crush, but quite a different thing to be crawling on the floor looking for homework to hand in to an angry teacher, only to wake up holding a wadded up sock. The worst nights involved dreams where I was sitting on the bleachers at a basketball game in my underwear, can you imagine the middle school horror?  Yikes!

Anyway, after seeing a sleep specialist, who was no help what so ever, I ended up on Ambien for a DECADE. I no longer take Ambien, though I wish I did,  so now I  have insomnia, it's swell.  So, in the Pearson home, we are well stocked with melatonin in all forms. It's a miracle people don't collapse into a slumber as they casually walk past the kitchen cabinet where I hoard the stuff.  But it works, and it's not addicting, says the melli hoarder...

So now, our poor Ella can't sleep, she says...and as a parent, I spend hours wondering, can she really not sleep, or is she just in the habit of not sleeping?  Is there even such a thing?  It sounds like something a crazy person would do?  Who in God's name would ever make a habit of not sleeping?? 

But alas, each night, this is how it unfolds.  Ella goes to bed at seven, exhausted.  She wakes up anytime between midnight and three, and proceeds to begin playing.  In the past, she used to come get us, or need us to sleep with her, but now she knows that mommy and daddy get SERIOUSLY TICKED OFF, so she pretty much keeps to herself.  That is, unless she needs us to find her doll's "bride dress", tear out a picture from her coloring book, help her unclog the ice dispenser, or rip out a string of floss so she can continue treating her line of "dental patients".  She paints pictures, gets snacks, colors, plays dress up, reads books and sings songs.  When the baby wakes up to nurse, and I walk by Ella's room,  it's as if a bomb has gone off.  There she is, wide awake, having the best time of her life.

We have tried to rub her back to relax her back to sleep, we have tried to teach her relaxation breathing to get herself back to sleep.  We have talked and talked and TALKED about good sleeping habits with her.  She has a reward box for sleeping through the night. We have bribed her with pancakes for breakfast, we have been firm, and threatened her with punishments.  She has a clock that tells her when to wake up, and when to go back to sleep. Just today we were talking about how when we play at night, it makes it hard to go back to sleep, and she is SO TIRED (no pun intended of course) of hearing us blab on and on about sleep, that she said "I KNOW!! NO PRINCESSES, NO COLORING, NO SNACKS, JUST SLEEPING".  But still,  NOTHING WORKS.  When I ask her why she isn't sleeping, she looks at me and says honestly, "I don't know how". 

You all know what a regular three year old is like during the day, right?  Now imagine one who doesn't sleep.  Everything is really awesome, until anything isn't awesome anymore.  Like, your paintbrush is "too wide", or your beans are the wrong color, or you have to get dressed, eat, drink, wiggle your toe, stand up or GOD FORBID...breath air...ughhh.  You would think someone killed her puppy, ALL DAY LONG, right in front of her.  When she gets that way, I feel like running away from home holding her and making her world right, but it's hard.

We went to a pediatric sleep specialist who suggested it was our parenting, but as I explained our story, she nodded and felt we were doing everything right, and should continue.  It was her belief that if Ella napped consistently, she would sleep at night consistently.  I thought that was a great idea, and waited anxiously for her to write the script for "napping pills", since I could imagine no other way to consistently get Ella to nap. But, we left empty handed, and deflated, wearing a big old fake smile. I spent the 45 minute drive home telling the specialist exactly what I thought of her expertise, as well as her compensation for her great depth of knowledge, all while Ella slept soundly.We all felt better by the time we pulled into the driveway.  As it turns out though, consistent naps were not the key.

So, at the end of my rope, I took her to see my chiropractor.  We spent over an hour there, and came home with a bag full of herbal supplements that were going to require a mortal, pestle and some serious voo doo to get them down Ella's gullet.  When we burst through the door, feeling accomplished, Anthony asked how it went. Despite my concerns regarding the herbal elixirs and the fact that we were going to have to buy a straight jacket to get them into Ella's body, I was really excited to share our experience.

 "So, check this out honey. I laid on the table, and then Ella sat on my lap, and we all held hands and passed around jars of pills and viles of liquid, and the doctor tried to push our arms, and she put her hand on our organs and glands, and we made this really neat circle of energy that changed depending on what little glass jar we held, and who was touching who, aaaaaand.....did you know I have a significant wheat allergy, isn't that crazy, but it makes so much sense, doesn't it??? Why are you looking at me like that???, Oh, how much did I spend? well.... can you reaaally put a price tag on your family's health?  I mean, don't you want to sleep too?" 

So after all the bottle swapping, and vile holding, the chiropractor came to the conclusion that Ella (who admittedly) was off the wall bonkers with exhaustion, had ADHD as well as digestive issues.  For a day or so, I believed the chiropractor, until I came back to my senses, and realized that I'm the mama, and I know my babies better than any other person on this planet.  Clearly, she does not have ADHD, she is three years old.

I could tell Anthony wanted to believe in the magical diagnostic procedure, but just couldn't. The more I talked, the more I felt like I had been doing voodoo with the witch doctor, and had been stabbed in the brain with the pin.  Part of me felt like she had tricked me, because it was so difficult to explain the nutritional response testing, but part of me felt like I was doing what any good parent does, exhausting all options.  When exhausted, exhaust, or something. 

At one point in our search for the ever evasive sleep, I turned to an online forum of mommies, who I love dearly for their support and advice.  I apprehensively laid out our sleep issues, and watched throughout the day as the number of views for my post grew and grew.  I waited anxiously for an answer, anything, ANYTHING....but nothing. I imagined mommies reading through our issues, thinking "damn, that's a rotten can of worms right there", and then moving on to a question or issue they could actually relate to. It was the equivalent to virtual cyber crickets, and a few sympathetic posts, sprinkled with "hopefully it's just a phase!".  I appreciated it, but felt so isolated that NO ONE had dealt with this problem.

And in the end, as it often goes, you can search and search and search google, only to find that the answer is inside yourself.  I had been everywhere, gathered information from every source I could think of, and though Ella had learned to leave us alone at night, she had not learned to get back to sleep.

So, I began praying, and the place that prayer often leads us is back to ourselves, and back to the truth.  I knew that getting Ella to sleep was not the job of a chiropractor, though they may help.  It was not the job of a sleep specialist, though they may help too.  In reality, it was our job to do the hard work and grind it out until she could learn to get herself back to sleep.

Now we are three days into sleep boot camp, and I am thrilled to say we have had three solid nights of sleep.  We have eliminated naps, and suffered through her afternoon whining.  We moved all toys to the basement, and installed a ridiculously complicated baby gate that requires a special combination of curse words, and a game of twister for your fingers get it to open.  We have been taking turns on the couch each night, so that if she so much as attempts to leave her room, or turn on a light in the hall, we rush her back to bed before she is fully awake. As I write this, it all seems so OBVIOUS, but that's how hind sight works.  

I'm not ready to say the little lady doesn't have "sleep issues", but I am ready to say that we have done EVERYTHING we can do as parents to help her.  The rest is up to God, after all, He's the one who created this passionate, creative, sensitive and thought-full little person.  So, we are holding out on the straight jacket and the herbs for now...well, at least until middle school.

It seems that sleep is a common issue for parents, though a lot of you appear to have a much better grip on it than we do, or maybe it's just something people don't talk about, like finances, I don't know. But just when I thought I had a grip on this whole "parenting" conundrum, I realized that I was doing a lot of things wrong, and needed to have a one on one, heart to heart with myself. I also realized that it is possible to ignore God's voice, and your own inner voice for a very long time, it simply makes life a lot harder.

So, I guess it's time to be honest with myself, do the hard work, and see what comes of it. Even if it doesn't lead to sleep, doing hard work, and doing good work will always just make your soul feel better anyway, and that's gotta be worth something.  After all, it's not about the destination, it's about the journey, and I'll be damned if Ella isn't taking us on one bucket ride of a journey!

 

Papa Tom

Papa Tom & Ella - 2008

Dear Dad,


There is this message that pops up from time to time at Church. It is the idea that God is the perfect father, full of compassion, truth, grace, mercy, love and peace.  We are taught that he wants to extend all of this to us in the form of an intimate relationship, and that he wants us not to think of him in the formal term, as "father", but instead, to think of him as "Abba", or rather "daddy". 


When I hear this message, I never really know where to "put it".  I guess that's becacause I feel like my "dad" bucket is already very full with all the things they are describing.  When they explain God as this gentle, loving and forgiving person,  I can't help but picture you. 

Of course, before your ego explodes, or you faint from expectations placed upon you, I should clarify that I'm not saying you are God, I'm just noticing that  as a father, you have done a lot of things right.  I don't know if you meant to, but you did a great job. 

I've met people, had friends and such, who didn't have a full bucket when it came to dad.  In fact, they didn't even have a bucket at all.  I guess they did in a way, but it was rusted out, and very empty. Or sometimes it would fill up a little, only to be kicked over unexpectedly.  But not my bucket, no.  My bucket is shiny, overflowing, and in a way, I almost don't know why I have it, why I of all people, have been so blessed.  It seems as though I get to have an extra bucket, one for God, a pefect heavenly father, and one for you, my perfect dad right here.


The truth is, when I think of a perfect father, you are the image that comes to mind.  Sure, we all pick on you for the pace at which you eat.  I mean, pails, or rather, buckets, are filling and overflowing with sap in Vermont, while you eat a single bite of spaghetti, but I digress, which by the way, I think I get from you.  I think you should know, there is a trend out there right now for people who chew there food hundreds of times per bite, might be worth looking into.  And of course, you are a meandering kind of talker.  You made an entire sales career out of talking.  Talking about your family, talking about your kids, talking about golf, and talking about pretty much whatever you or the doctors with whom you spoke felt like talking about. Whether or not you talked much about pharmaceuticals didn't seem to matter.  They knew you knew your stuff, and they LOVED you.  In fact, everybody who meets you just LOVES you because you are so YOU.  Just look at your grandkids, they light up, and can't get enough of Papa Tom.


When I was growing up, you never missed an important event, and even when you would come home exhausted and stressed out, knowing that after dinner, bedtime and bath time you would be headed to your basement office to do MORE paperwork, you were still enthusiastic and thrilled to hear ALL about our day.  And I don't mean you pretended to care. You really listened, made eye contact, asked questions, and let out loud excited statements like "All right!!" and "Way to go!", and then grabbed us with your giant paws in an embrace to let us know how proud you were.  From you, I learned I was was worthy of love.


Sometimes, I pushed your buttons, and I remember one of the few spankings you gave me.  The obligatory warning was offered, but I chose to push just one more button, and then attempted to scoot up the stairs laughing.  As I climbed the second step, you gave me a quick little slap on the bottom.  For an instant, we made eye contact, and then I burst into tears.  It wasn't because you spanked me and it hurt, because honestly, as far as spankings go, it felt like nothing. It wasn't because you spanked me and I felt guilty for acting out.  Nope. The reason I cried was because of the look on your face. In your eyes, you said  "I'm so sad that I had to do that".  From you, I learned the importance of following through, even when it's hard.  From you, I learned to respect authority. 


At every dance recital, swim meet, soccer game, basketball game, gymnastic meet, you were there.  In fact, I know you were there, because the sound from the dinosaur camcorder that pressed into your shoulder has forever recorded all of your cheering and shouting.  I can hear you smiling when I watch those old videos.  From you, I learned I was worthy of praise.


In middle school and high school when mom and I would shop for dresses, we would always pick two, and bring them home for you to make the final choice, because you had the best taste.  Your opinion meant EVERYTHING.  You would always tell me that both dresses were beautiful, but there was always one that would look  more "elegant", or "classy" as you would put it, and when you saw that dress, your expression would soften.  I would wait to hear the words, "Oh Lizzy, that is an elegant dress", and my decision would be made.  From you, I learned to value my appearance.


Dad, I have always known one thing was true about you and me, and that was the fact that you are my biggest fan.  I have not even come close to doing everything perfectly.  I have stressed you out beyond belief, and I have disappointed you, but you have never judged me or made me feel unworthy.  You have always been able to find the balance between truth and grace - showing me the truth of my failings and your feelings about them, and then showing me grace and forgiveness, so that I know that I am loved. You are genuine, sincere, wise and always, always loving.


Thank you for all that you have given me, but mostly thank you for your example as a parent.  It's been the greatest gift of all as I navigate my own adventures in parenting. I love you.  Happy Fathers Day!

Love,
Lizzie

Cora

Cora doesn't get a lot of press around here, and I guess it's because although she's cute as a bucket of puppies, she doesn't really do or say much. After all, she is 8 months new. 

Just last night though, I was nursing her to sleep in one arm, and reading my book in the other.  I had my head lamp on, and was thoroughly invested in a really great part of the book, when she pulled off, and began to just stare at me.  Now I know there are mom's out there who savor the breastfeeding moments, and gaze at their babies as they rock together, but that's simply not me.  Don't get me wrong though, I look forward to nursing for sure.  I love it in fact, because I can check my email, read a book, fall asleep, or just stare around the room.  It's quiet, which is something that has been void from my life for the past three and a half years. 

So when she pulled away and began to stare at me, I was a little perturbed.  Figuring my infrared headlamp was slightly distracting, I flicked it off, but it was dusk, and there was still enough light in the room for me to see that my efforts were wasted. As she continued to stare at me, her tiny hand reached out and proceeded to slap the book from my hand.  She was effectively destroying my moment, and she didn't even save my page. Ughhh. 

My plan was to get the boob back in her mouth so that we could all get back to our happy place.  As I began luring her in that direction, I noticed I was clicking my tongue as if desperately calling a cat out of a tree. "Here Cora Cora!"  But she pushed the boob away, and continued to stare.

Her eyes searched my face like two little almond satellites.  She studied my nose, my lips, and my ears.  I watched as she looked at my chin, and then furrowed her brow.  I shifted nervously, wondering what she was thinking, feeling like I was trial.  A minute or so passed, and when I realized she just wanted to look at her mommy, I decided to just look at her too. As our almond eyes met, it felt as if we were two souls meeting for real, for the very first time.  She has been here for eight months, but in that moment my thoughts flashed into fast forward motion, and I saw her with long dark hair and my skinny legs. Then I imagined her as a five year old, walking down the street in a sundress with her big sister.  All of a sudden she was in college, and we were furnishing her first apartment. We were drinking coffee together, and reading books in the sun and laughing.  

I realized that this little soul came into the world to be whoever she is going to be, and I get to guide her. I get to "do life" with her.  Most of the time, it feels like she will always be a baby, but the way she looked at me with those deep dark eyes, it was as if she knew things even I didn't know, and I'm the mommy, so I usually know everything. 

When I felt like my heart was about to burst from the layers of epiphanies that were occurring, the sides of her mouth curled ever so slightly into the sweetest grin, and her tiny hand began to wave at me.  "Oh, well hello!" I said smiling, returning the wave.  It's nice to finally "meet you" Miss Cora.  This is gonna be great.