Fashion Forward.

I have been in a very lucky situation - the seven year old doesn't care what she wears.
I know that the fashion war is fought daily in bedrooms all over the world - so I know how lucky I am.

Every night I lay out clothes for the next day on a chair in the seven year olds room.
Every morning she gets up and puts them on.

I use common sense. I take her shopping with me - she picks the clothes she likes.
Also luckily for me, with the exception of the infamous swimsuit debate, she happily accepts my vetoes on clothes I think are inappropriate for her.

I pay attention to her current favorites and put them in heavy rotation.
The rotation includes dresses, skirts, leggings and trousers.
When she does ask to swap an item I very casually agree.

I know it will end. I feel the countdown has begun. It all started at school.
I noticed that one of her little friends had obviously picked out her own clothes one day.
She is usually color co-ordinated and stylish - this outfit was pure seven year old fantasy.

The top and leggings were of different colors and patterns and over the leggings were a pair of bold stripey shorts.
She looked super cute and you could tell she felt great in her self-chosen outfit - she had a swagger in her step.
I knew it would not go unnoticed.
The seven year old is a big fan of swagger.

That night I layed out her clothes as usual.
She has been wanting to go to sleep with the light on, so I go up after about an hour and switch it off.
As I entered the room, I noticed a different set of clothes on the chair.

They were a combination of inappropriate, (for the weather) too small and hideously mismatched.
Hmmm. What should I do?
I settled on a combination of some items from her choice but added clothes that fit and reduced the color clash.

I am greeted first thing with:

"Mom! Why did you change my clothes?"

"Erm - well it's raining sweetie so I just added some warmer things..."

I wait with baited breath.

"OK." she says.

I remember very clearly a day when I, for the first time, went to my room and changed my clothes.
I got a notion to wear a purple pant suit (it was the 70's) that my Nana had knitted for me. That's right I said knitted.
It was far too small but I loved it - so on it went.
I can still see my Mums face when she found me out playing with the neighborhood kids.
She made me change. I'm still bitter.

I am fully aware that the day will come when she comes downstairs looking like a day glo rainbow.
As long as she's covered adequately and warm enough - I will say nothing.
I will take one for the team and hope that it's a (very short) phase.

Uphill Battle.

I have been suffering from Mommy Madness. For me it takes many forms but this particular incarnation involves me wondering where 'me' went.
I have been slowly crawling towards the realization that I have forgotten to be me. A person, a women with interests that are not child related.

For those looking on it may have been very evident in the baby weight I still carry. In the ever present ponytail.
The frequently unwashed hair, unbrushed teeth and wrinkled mommy clothes (shapeless, style-less, frumpy.)
I need a haircut, pedicure and eyebrow taming much more often than not.

The main symptom is selflessness. This seems a very noble and worthy trait but that only applies in small dozes.
24 hour selflessness turns out to be soul destroying.

Please don't think I am painting myself as some saintly mother who puts her kids first.
I'm talking about forgetting to put myself first, at least some of the time - sometimes through laziness, sometimes guilt and mostly out of habit.

It's not good.

So, in the only way I know how - I am going 180.
I have been making appointments to get trimmed, coiffed, buffed and polished.
I am breaking open the rainy day fund and shopping at an actual clothes store (as opposed to Target or Ross.)
I am looking after my health with medical and dental appointments.
It feels good.

Yesterday I embraced my old biker chick. Can I still call it that if it involves a push bike?
I was invited on a Mom's ride. I haven't been on my bike for over 3 years.
T-H-R-E-E Y-E-A-R-S.
Several of the riding mom's are athletes. They do triathlons and other sporting events I can't even spell.
Newly optimistic me decides to go.
How hard can it be?

I fell within the first 10 minutes. I fell down a two foot drop off - onto concrete.
After 10 years of pregnancy and/or breast feeding calcium evades me. How I am not in a cast I don't know.
BTW: In Scotland a cast is a 'stookie' how about that for a great word?

I hurt my elbow and knee but my pride took the biggest hit.
As I sat on the ground, tears running down my cheeks and surrounded by the other mom's I wanted to give up.
I like being me - the mom. Maybe I'll just do that and not worry about me - the person.

After a lot of love, support and a rigorous pep talk -I got back on the horse (bike) and completed a very strenuous (for me) ride.
I did feel better. I did have renewed energy to be with my kids. It was great to talk about anything but them for a few hours.

This morning I was reminded that I am over forty. Sports injuries and infants are not an easy mix but with the joy of feeling like a whole person still running through my veins - I managed.

I wonder what I should do next? Skydiving?

Body Talk.

Why is the body so amusing to the under twelves?
I never hear the seven year old laugh so loud or for so long than when she hears a bodily sound or spots a usually covered body part.
She's been like this since she was three - I was thinking she'd grow out of it by now.
Not a chance.

I am happy to agree that if you're a girl, there is something amusing about the male anatomy - I'm not going to be specific but we all know what I'm talking about.....
Anything that dangles seems to be particularly amusing and since I've nursed two babies - there's a LOT of dangling going on around here.
Too much information?

I want my girls to be at ease with their bodies so while I don't flaunt - I don't hide.
Fine if you're not intimidated by pointing and giggling.

In her endless quest to be her sister's twin, the baby is getting in on the trend.
Her favorite trick is to announce her new discoveries, "mummy pooped!" in public places.
I'm fine with that (I do in fact poop) as long as people don't think she is reporting current events.

We all know that being a mom means you have company in the bathroom. I'm used to it.
Yesterday though, I had another bathroom first.
The baby brought me her yogurt "help please mommy."
You know that I have in the past advocated eating in the bath - it's very efficient for clean up.
Eating or feeding your child while on the pot - I can't condone.

I thought pregnancy and childbirth were the biggest dignity stripping experiences I would have but it turns out I was wrong.
Having my children prod, poke, announce, point and laugh at regular intervals during the day wins hands down.
My advice to those of you planning, pregnant or new to this game.
Buy Beano - it will save you a lot of public shame.
Put a lock on your bathroom door.
Make sure your dangly bits are secured before venturing into the company of your children.

I've also found that the old adage 'if you can't beat them join them' makes it all easier to bear.
It may not be my most shining moment in parenting but there is something liberating about being forty and shouting
"Ha ha! You farted!"
No need to send me comments about the apple never falling far from the tree.....

Read Rage.

The seven year old is learning to read.
This may seem late to some of you.
We chose Waldorf education, so for that model she's right on schedule.

She is thrilled. It's exciting.
"I can read Mama!"
She wants to show me.

We go to the library and get some first readers.
We chose Bob's Books.
They are black and white with line drawings.
Cute little stories about cats on mats and jigging pigs.

I remember learning to read. It was stressful.
I compared myself to other 'better' readers in my class.
I could feel my parents frustration as I stumbled over words.
I wanted to read so badly but it was hard, so I guessed from the pictures.

I want so desperately for that not to be the seven year olds experience.
It's one of the reasons she's in a Waldorf school.
So I embrace a very casual attitude.

"Sure, I'd love to have you read to me, whenever you're ready."
"You pick out the books you like sweetie."

I am the model of uncompetitive enthusiasm.
Until we sit down.

The first page goes well.
'Jig is a pig.'
"Oooh you're reading! Nice job."
(OK maybe a little too enthusiastic but remember I'm overcompensating so it's required.)

'Jig likes to dig.'
"A digging pig - how interesting!" I say.
Neutral comment - very encouraging but with no pressure attached - I have this down.

'Dig, Jig, dig.'
Roadblock.
She can read the first dig and then she gets stuck.
"Sound it out lovey"

She starts to fidget.
"I can't do it" she declares.
"We'll do it together" I soothe.

My adult brain can't see the problem. She has already read both these words. The first and the last word are the same.
The middle word is only one letter different and the name of the pig we're reading about.
It's easy, she can do this.

Wait a minute. Is that frustration pulsing through my veins? Is that a judgemental tone?

Once again, I'm having a full circle moment.
THIS IS INFURIATING!!
It's the SAME word.
Did I really just blurt, "Don't guess, just read it."
In this moment I am the child feeling my parents frustration and the frustrated parent.

I close the book.
"That was great and you worked so hard but let's have a snack before we do more."

Better. I talk to her classmates mom's. Their kids are doing the exact same thing.
Phew.
I think I might leave this learning to read stuff to her teacher for a few more weeks...

While The Cat Is Away.

The husband is away at a stag weekend.
I was looking forward to a girlie girl weekend.

I knew the girls would really miss daddy so I planned a bunch of fun things.
I wanted to it to be a real bonding time and opportunity to show the seven year old how strong and independent women can be.

You know there's a BUT coming....

But then the baby got sick. She spiked a fever of 101.8 approximately three hours after the husband left.
(Don't tell me it wasn't intentional.)
She was feverish all night long. Crying, coughing - miserable.
I brought her in with me. This calmed her down and at 3am we finally settled into sleep.
Until - she fell out of the bed. Not injured but very startled, she wailed.
Then started coughing uncontrollably which distressed her so much she vomited.

The commotion woke the seven year old.
So there we were at 5am, three to a bed trying to get back to sleep.

Not a great start to the weekend.
The baby is too sick to do anything other than cling to me and eat tylenol.
I am bleary eyed.

If I could get my hands on Murphy I would be happy to show him what I think of his Law.

A friend takes the seven year old for a play date.
Thank goodness for friends.
The baby gratefully returns to bed (hers this time.)

I mope around feeling frustration, fatigue and disappointment.
I can blame all this on the husband right?

St. Patrick the Groundhog Day.

I hate to be Grinchly but seriously my day is packed with far too many things as it is.
Leprechaun houses and the required treat is the straw on my camel back.

It doesn't help that I NEVER remember about this aspect of St. Paddy's Day until it's too late to do anything other than panic.
St. Patrick's Day could be confused with Groundhog Day around here.
Remember this.

Spookily, the baby is teething again, so we are a little sleep deprived.
Oh wait - I just described the first 30 months of parenthood.
This has nothing to do with old Saint Pat this is just how it feels when there is something extra.
It could be any of the holidays, vacation planning, a birthday.

it just tips the scale.
Sometimes in a really enjoyable way and sometimes in a if I have to do one more thing today I will lose my mind way.
I think you can tell I am now looking for my mind.

The seven year gets an old box, draws a shamrock on it and put a crayon in it.
Done.
The crayon is a gift for the leprechaun "so he can draw rainbows."
It took her under three minutes.

I, however will have to do dinner, bath and bedtime, laundry, tidy up, dinner for me and then work on finding an appropriate treat.

I feel bad that she is really excited. She has gone to bed with great anticipation.
I feel only pressure and drudgery. What's wrong with that picture?

In my defense - we had a very unexpected (corn on the cob related) tooth fairy visit this week already - I am out of emergency treat ideas. Do I need a defense? That judge and jury exist only in my mind - which is missing, so who cares what it thinks?

Of course, I found a treat. The seven year old was delighted.
I just need an attitude adjustment or a spa day.

Seven Year Itch.

I have been a full time mom for seven years.
S e v e n y e a r s
It's a long time.

I've loved it. I've hated it. I've felt bored, frustrated and lonely.
I've felt lucky, happy and contented.

I did go back to work part time when the seven year old went to pre-school.
I stopped work to focus on adding a sibling.
I've been home, full time, for over three years now.

Lately, I've been feeling that my brain is filled up with cobwebs.
Luckily, I have a sure fire way to blow out cobwebs - roller coasters.
Now you know the real reason we went to Disneyland.

Actually it was California Adventure Park that allowed me to spring clean.
As it turned out it wasn't a roller coaster that fixed me.

I have been to this park once before. I watched people get on The Hollywood Tower Of Terror ride.
I laughed at them. I declared them certifiable.
This time I joined them.

Plunging 20 stories in the dark definitely reminds you, you're alive.
For that three minute ride - I was no longer 'mommy.'
I was an independent (hysterically screaming) adult.

If you haven't had this eye brightening experience let me regale you. You sit in a small elevator (cage) like room.
At the sides are metal grids - reminiscent of a 1930's elevator.
I was seated next to the grid/wall.

Just for fun they take your picture just as you plummet. I wish I could show you that picture.
There are 29 people sitting facing forward screaming and me turned, grasping that grid with both arms in a futile attempt to climb out.
It was a life highlight to watch 29 people look at that picture and then bend double laughing at the crazy lady on the left.

I have not felt less mommy-like in seven years.

I highly recommend it.

Blog Mash Up!

Today I am taking part in the Blog It Forward Mash Up organized by SFGirlByBay
The theme is inspiration.
You can check out what other bloggers do to find inspiration by visiting SFGirlByBay and clicking on the Blog It Forward button (stay awhile and look around at the gorgeous SFGirlByBay site first.)
Yesterday The Fairly Constant Reader revealed her inspirations with photos.

It all got me thinking - what does inspire me?
Well the Husband, the Seven year old and the Baby do. Sometimes they inspire me to do some less than motherly things but mostly I find their sweet faces, infectious giggles and endless optimism an inspiration to live life joyfully.



Then there is Scotland. A breathtaking land of ancient history and dramatic scenery.
I never feel more at home than when my feet are on Scottish soil.
When I can't actually be there - a photo can transport me.








I am, of course, inspired by some fellow bloggers.

Take a peek at:

A Cup of Tea and a Good Book
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Poppies and Milk
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MoseyAlong

to see where I visit when I want a good read or a pretty picture.

What inspires you?

Seven.

The Six year old turned Seven. Seven is a big deal. OK every birthday is a big deal when you are under 21 but Seven seems particularly big.
So - we went to Disneyland.

I don't know about you but I find it impossible not to feel jolly and energized by 'It's A Small World.'
I need that ride in my back yard. It is the instant cure for PMS or Mommy Madness - which may be why we rode it Seven times.

Disney did a great job of making the Seven year old feel special from a very cute towel birthday cake on her pillow to a birthday card from Mickey and Minnie.

We had a ball. To celebrate her Seven-ness the Seven year old rode 'the big girl' roller coaster (California Screamin'.)
After we stopped Screamin' - we celebrated. We went loop de loop. We were proud.
For all of our bravado we were still too scared to do 'Mr. Toad's Wild Ride' - next time.

The Baby liked it too. Not the roller coaster - she wasn't tall enough.
She liked pushing her stroller around and swinging on the railings.
Sure the Tea Cups were entertaining but so was climbing on the wall that surrounds it.

She very patiently sat with a bemused look on her face as we rode the Fantasyland rides.
The carousel elicited a smile and she cheered when we got on The Casey Jnr. Train otherwise she was just as happy jumping on and off the curb on Main Street.

Then there was the Character Breakfast. We had been told this was well worth the $$'s (it was) so we booked it for the big Birthday breakfast.
It was really great. Ninety minutes of up close and personal with Mickey, Minnie, Goofy and pals.
They made a big fuss of the Seven year old - she danced with them, they came to our table and signed a card for her. They brought her a cake. It was perfect - well except for the fact that the Baby was TERRIFIED of them.
She screamed whenever they came within five feet.

The staff have seen this before. They tied a red balloon to her chair. Character lingo for STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!
She still wailed.
I was caught in the classic mommy trap. How to keep both of my kids happy?
You want to know what I did - don't you?
It's not good.
I put the baby around the corner. She could still see me and I did pass her food but she spent most of the breakfast in the highchair storage nook. Another great mommy moment.

Parenting is hard - even in The Happiest Place On Earth.

The Handle.

The baby is a lot like her sister.
They look a lot alike.
She is hitting her milestones at the same age her sister did.

She wants to be exactly like her sister.
She wants to do everything exactly as her sister does, when her sister does.
She tries to stay in her sister's classroom, at drop of, each morning.
She assumes she is going to all her big sister's play dates and parties.
She sees herself as a twin.

Except when it comes to food.

She has no interest in eating anything that her sister does.
Her sister has no influence over her when it comes to food.
Here she is autonomous.

I try not to stress about it. I know that not eating vegetables now - doesn't mean she will never eat vegetables.
I know that some days babies eat very little and some days they eat loads.
I am (mostly) calm about it - except for The Handle.

The baby will not eat the piece of food she has been holding, known in this house as - The Handle.
Since most of her food is finger food it means she leaves about a third of everything she eats.
Now, I know that leaving some food on your plate (for Mr. Manners) is considered polite and even prudent for us adults -
in a baby is just plain annoying.

I have tried gracefully accepting The Handle, say a piece of a chicken nugget or a carrot and then trimming it to a slightly different shape and returning it - no go.
She immediately rejects it. I can see in her eyes, just as clearly as if she had the words:
"Oh no, no way - that's The Handle - I'd know it anywhere."

I wouldn't mind but she will reject The Handle but then ask for more.
"You have more" I say, pointing at The Handle.
She looks at me with a twinkle in her eye and firmly shakes her head.
I have never managed to get her to eat The Handle. Not once.

Have I just admitted that the baby has the upper hand?