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children, gratitude, loss of parent, motherhood, parenting

Fill the Bucket

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My Mom and me. I owe her all the beauty, humor and light in my life. The rest doesn’t matter because she showed me what love means. Even if you make a mistake or don’t succeed, if you have love in your life, you have everything you need.

Moms don’t really get the credit they deserve.  There isn’t actually any quantifiable way to say we are successfully raising our kids.  How much are we, as Moms, responsible for the successes and the failures of our kids?  At what point do we stop shaping our children’s outcomes and allow them to take personal responsibility for themselves and their own actions?  Even into adulthood, are Moms responsible when a grown child isn’t reaching their full potential?

I don’t have the answers.  I do know that motherhood can be extremely rewarding but mostly on an intrinsic level.  Sure, we have Mother’s Day but in general, our hard work and dedication is rarely recognized on an external level.  This really isn’t such a bad thing.  I believe life is about being your personal best and if the world sees it, great, and if it doesn’t, that’s okay, too.  All that really matters is how you, and you alone feel about the way you are living your life.  It also helps if on occasion, your kid says or does something that warms your heart.

Full Speed explained to me that he learned about ‘filling other people’s buckets’ at school.  Essentially, by acknowledging others, you ‘fill their bucket’ with kindness and appreciation.  He took these words to heart.  He told me as he walked over to meet me, that he shared with the crossing guard that he was a ‘really good crossing guard’.  Full Speed also plans to tell the lunch ladies on Monday that they are doing ‘a really great job.’

I may not get trophies or a big paycheck honoring the work I do as a mother, but after I listened to Full Speed I thought, “Wow, maybe I had a little something to do with the making of this remarkable kid.”

My bucket is full.

children, family, kids, motherhood, parenting

End of an Era

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Okay.  I understand some kids don’t like to be cuddly.  Even as an infant, it was clear as day, Full Speed didn’t have time to sit still and snuggle.  My Mom even commented that the only way Full Speed would cuddle, was if he didn’t feel well.

T.Puzzle was a refreshing change.  He loved to be held, love to give and receive smooches and generally, enjoyed hugging everyone as much as possible.

That is until he started kindergarten.  Gone are the days of smooching me spontaneously.  There are no more moments of snuggle time in the mornings before we start our day.

I’ll admit, this has been a difficult transition for an emotionally expressive person like myself, but I can respect it.  What I can’t handle is the defiant attitude that has gone along with it.

This morning I had a sit down discussion with him.  He eventually articulated that he doesn’t like to snuggle anymore (sigh).  We have set new ground rules and I will not pester him to cuddle, but in return, he must receive an occasional hug and smooch from me in a gracious manner.

He agreed.

How is it my boys keep easily moving towards independence without my permission?

Then again, when have they ever asked my permission to do anything?

children, family, humor, motherhood, parenting

Two. That’s All Folks!

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T.Puzzle and Full Speed getting ready for a surrey bike ride when we lived near Milwaukee a few years ago.

Agreeing to disagree on a variety of issues is a cornerstone of marriage.  There are compromises on things big and small.  As long as both involved feel they ‘win’ at least some of the time, life can run fairly smoothly.  It’s when it comes to the bigger ticket items that you both have to be completely on the same page.  For instance, the number of kids you plan to bring into the world, if any at all for that matter, must be as close as possible.  This number can change and shift as unforeseen circumstance arrive.  Initially, Mad Dog and I had talked about having a big family.  As pregnancy turned out to be one of my least favorite states of being and as Full Speed and T.Puzzle evolved into their strong-willed, glorious selves, I was quickly convinced two kids was more than enough.  Recently, Mad Dog has been pondering the possible expansion of our brood.  I think I could be open to this notion down the road, say when I’m about 90 years old and don’t remember who or where I am.  I’m sorry, but my boys have worn me out.  I believe I am only beginning to safely tread the waters of motherhood and even so, I still feel regularly challenged beyond my normal capacity.

Fortunately for me, two recent events have diminished Mad Dog’s inkling for family expansion.  First, we had lunch with friends that we hadn’t seen in a very long time and finally met their two, extremely adorable boys.  We met at a restaurant and I was flooded with memories as their very active nearly three year-old motored about the perimeter of the table and their nine month old baby insisted he needed to be held during the entire meal (to be honest, if I was that cute, I would insist on it, too).  As we talked with our friends, the little conversation we could manage over the normal hustle and bustle of raising small children, the more I appreciated my spirited boys who at least are able to independently eat a meal.  Mad Dog appreciated this, too.  This was a relief to me.

The second event was T.Puzzle’s recent surgery (he is doing fantastic by the way).  In the first days post-surgery, I had given him pain meds throughout the day and night at regular intervals.   I don’t do well with sleep deprivation (putting it mildly).  This is why the newborn phase was and never will be, my shining moment in motherhood.  Somehow, Mad Dog does not remember this.  He claims to only remember the good.  Seeing my cranky face at the end of this week managed to bring it all back into focus.  Who knew being cranky could work so much in my favor?

I think I dodged a bullet.  At least, I sure hope I did.

children, family, humor, kids, motherhood, parenting

Parenting is a Kick

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No matter how long I raise boys, there are aspects of them that I will never understand.  The physicality in which they move through life is fascinating to me.  

Why is it necessary to karate chop each other while brushing teeth?  Why is tackling a part of getting into the car?   Why is furniture considered a jungle gym? 

All I can do is make some rules about safety, hope they follow at least enough to prevent harm and accept that my house resembles a three-ring circus more often than not.

This morning, as I have been working hard with T.Puzzle to control himself while brushing teeth, I saw a rogue high kick escape from his leg.

“Hands and feet to yourself!” I implored.  “No kicking!”

“I didn’t kick him, Mom.  I missed,” he replied.  His tone indicated that by missing his brother’s face with his foot, that he was the epitome of decorum.

So, the morning was saved.  I’d like to say I owe it all to my incredible parenting skills.  Mostly, I owe it all to T.Puzzle’s terrible aim.

children, family, gratitude, humor, motherhood, parenting

Leapin’ Lizards

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English: Lizard English: Eidechse
Image via WikipediaI

I was unwrapping a box on our dining room table.  After I had cut through some plastic and rubber bands to get to its contents, I started to clear the area.  I absent-mindedly grabbed a rubber band and then the world stopped.  On closer inspection I realized this unfortunate rubber band was actually a tiny, dead, three-inch lizard.  I had it pinched firmly between my thumb and forefinger.  I dropped it as if it were on fire and screamed my pretty little head off.

The boys raced into the dining room to see what was seemingly threatening the safety of their mother.  I was logical enough to quickly convey that physically I was fine.  Emotionally, well, the jury’s still out on that one.

I asked Full Speed to get a paper towel, pick up the deceased lizard and toss it outside.  I wasn’t sure how he was going to react.  I didn’t know if he would mirror my hysteria or step up to the challenge.  Thankfully, he was a as cool as a cucumber.

I told him he was my hero.  “I bet it was weird hearing me scream like a little girl, wasn’t it?”

“That’s okay, Mom.  You are a girl so you can scream like one,” he replied without judgement.

Wow.  A hero who simultaneously rescues and bolsters your self-esteem.  Leapin’ lizards he’s a good kid!

Take that, lizard!
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