The Mommies' Diaries…Parenting, One Blog at a Time.

Recently, I was in conversation with someone about the various stressors in life.  To my surprise, they had a very snarky reaction when I said that I often feel stressed – implying that my life as a stay-at-home-mom doesn’t merit feelings of pressure, anxiety or worry.  My reaction was a visceral one.  I felt the anger boil from deep within, and I literally began shaking with the utter sadness I felt from being misunderstood, undervalued, and slightly disrespected.

I have thought long and hard about how to clearly convey my thoughts about the unglamorous side of life as a stay-at-home mom.  My mind keeps circling back to a column that a friend posted on her Facebook page over a year ago.  So, with a little help from Google search, I was able to relocate the original source of the column.  I will apologize now, for today’s post is mostly unoriginal – but shares a message that couldn’t be more personal to me.

I also think it’s important for me to say that the hardships of being a stay-at-home-mom are no greater than those of a working mom, or dad, or guardian.  My goal in re-posting this writing by Carolyn Hax is not to claim my role is mightier than anyone else’s.  In fact, I am still baffled by the balancing act that working mothers must maintain…..how on earth do you work 10 hours a day, completely love your kids up, and find time to do the laundry and grocery shopping?  Amazing.  My purpose in posting the below is to potentially shift the perspective of anyone else out there who might underestimate the hard work that goes into “playing all day.”

At the end of the day, we all have stress.  We just need to remember that no one else’s stress is either greater, or less than, our own – because it’s what we are personally experiencing and living…..it’s all that we know in the moment.  Let’s be mindful of what the other is experiencing, and try to broaden our thinking so that we may practice compassion and understanding.

TELL ME ABOUT IT

By Carolyn Hax

The Washington Post

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Carolyn:

Best friend has child. Her: exhausted, busy, no time for self, no time for me, etc.

Me (no kids): Wow. Sorry. What’d you do today?

Her: Park, play group . . .

Okay. I’ve done Internet searches, I’ve talked to parents. I don’t get it. What do stay-at-home moms do all day? Please no lists of library, grocery store, dry cleaners . . . I do all those things, too, and I don’t do them EVERY DAY. I guess what I’m asking is: What is a typical day and why don’t moms have time for a call or e-mail? I work and am away from home nine hours a day (plus a few late work events) and I manage to get it all done. I’m feeling like the kid is an excuse to relax and enjoy — not a bad thing at all — but if so, why won’t my friend tell me the truth? Is this a peeing contest (“My life is so much harder than yours”)?

What’s the deal? I’ve got friends with and without kids and all us child-free folks get the same story and have the same questions.

Tacoma, Wash.

REPLY:

Relax and enjoy. You’re funny.

Or you’re lying about having friends with kids.

Or you’re taking them at their word that they actually have kids, because you haven’t personally been in the same room with them.

Internet searches?

I keep wavering between giving you a straight answer and giving my forehead some keyboard. To claim you want to understand, while in the same breath implying that the only logical conclusions are that your mom-friends are either lying or competing with you, is disingenuous indeed.

So, since it’s validation you seem to want, the real answer is what you get. In list form.

When you have young kids, your typical day is: constant attention, from getting them out of bed, fed, clean, dressed; to keeping them out of harm’s way; to answering their coos, cries, questions; to having two arms and carrying one kid, one set of car keys, and supplies for even the quickest trips, including the latest-to-be-declared-essential piece of molded plastic gear; to keeping them from unshelving books at the library; to enforcing rest times; to staying one step ahead of them lest they get too hungry, tired or bored, any one of which produces the kind of checkout-line screaming that gets the checkout line shaking its head.

It’s needing 45 minutes to do what takes others 15.

It’s constant vigilance, constant touch, constant use of your voice, constant relegation of your needs to the second tier.

It’s constant scrutiny and second-guessing from family and friends, well-meaning and otherwise. It’s resisting constant temptation to seek short-term relief at everyone’s long-term expense.

It’s doing all this while concurrently teaching virtually everything — language, manners, safety, resourcefulness, discipline, curiosity, creativity. Empathy. Everything.

It’s also a choice, yes. And a joy. But if you spent all day, every day, with this brand of joy, and then, when you got your first 10 minutes to yourself, wanted to be alone with your thoughts instead of calling a good friend, a good friend wouldn’t judge you, complain about you to mutual friends, or marvel how much more productively she uses her time. Either make a sincere effort to understand or keep your snit to yourself.

Not much to report but playing the waiting game. We plan on trying more and hoping for no period, meaning positive results. Even if I get a period, that would be great news, too, because this tells me that my body is at least giving me a natural period.

I spoke to my doctor on the phone the other day and I told him about me getting my period without progesterones. He thinks that this is great news because that tells us that my eggs are starting to ovulate! He suggests that I continue the Clomid treatment for another 3 months. I had recently reached out to him because I had read about Polycystic ovary syndrome
(PCOS) in a magazine article and felt that I was going through some of the symptoms.

“Polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) is the most common hormonal disorder among women of reproductive age. Infrequent or prolonged menstrual periods, excess hair growth, acne and obesity can all occur in women with polycystic ovary syndrome. Menstrual abnormality may signal the condition in adolescence, or PCOS may become apparent later following weight gain or difficulty becoming pregnant.The exact cause of polycystic ovary syndrome is unknown. Women with polycystic ovary syndrome may have trouble becoming pregnant due to infrequent or lack of ovulation.” ( http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/polycystic-ovary-syndrome/DS00423)

I wanted to schedule a pelvic exam and have my doctor look over my hormone levels from my lab tests, but I didn’t need to. Luckily, my doctor said that because I had a successful period this round, we should be fine. We’ll go through 3 cycles and go from there. I was getting worried because if you have PCOS, then you can also have complications when giving birth and fetal death. Let’s hope for good news…

I remember years ago, when my twins were babies, we had dinner with some friends who were in town.   We met them at a restaurant in the city near the hotel where they were staying along with their kids.  They had three kids and the youngest was 10 years old and the oldest was about 15.  During dinner their phone kept ringing and the kids kept asking what movies they could watch, if they could order popcorn from room service, what could they eat out of the minibar, etc., etc.  At the time, I was astounded that they had left their three kids alone.  It just wasn’t something that was even on my radar screen yet.

My husband travels a lot for work.   When my kids were really little I remember many evenings sitting at home by myself wishing I could just run out buy some milk or diapers or take out Chinese food.  I knew they wouldn’t wake up, but all the what ifs and the fact that it’s against the law to leave babies alone stopped me.  At the time we lived in San Francisco and we practically shared a wall with our neighbors.  My next door neighbors daughter would nap during the time she needed to pick up her some from preschool.  She’d bring the baby monitor over to my house and I’d make sure her daughter didn’t wake up while she went to get her son.  We did this dozens of times and her daughter never woke up while she was gone.  We used to bring our baby monitor over to their house and eat dinner together after our kids when to sleep.

Yesterday I had two of my three kids with me and I needed to run into the grocery store to grab one thing.  When I pulled into the parking lot, my eight year old asked me if they could wait in the car.  I thought about for a second and said sure.   I gave them instructions not to touch anything or open any of the doors, locked the car and ran into the store.  I knew I would only be gone a few minutes and parking lot was not huge so I could easily see the car from the check out line.  My husband happened to call me while I was in the store and I think he was slightly shocked that I had let the kids stay in the car.

Over the years I’ve often left them in the car while using the ATM, but never where I couldn’t see them.  I have a friend who got scolded by a police officer for leaving her two year old in the car while using at ATM.  She was probably 15 feet away and could see her daughter and her car.

Recently, my kids have taken turns passing around a virus.  When my five year old had it and needed to stay home from school, I bundled him into the car to drop off the other two.  When my eight year old had it, I asked her if she wanted to stay home.  She said yes.  She knows not to open the door for any reason, she knows how to call 911, not to use anything in the kitchen and I would only be gone for 10 minutes at the most.  It all worked out fine and she was proud of herself.

When her twin sister caught the bug, I asked her if she wanted to stay home by herself while I picked up her brother and sister.  Unlike her sister, she had no interest in staying home alone.   But she’s asked me several times when she will be old enough to walk to school by herself, something I know I may not ever be ready for them to do alone.

So what is the right age a child can be left home alone.  I searched around and tried to find out what age it is even legal to leave a child alone, but got all kinds of different answers.  I suppose it depends on your child and what you are comfortable with.

I know I am not ready to leave my five year old for sure, nor am I ready to leave my eight year olds home alone for longer than 15 minutes or so.  But apparently I am ready to leave them in a grocery store parking lot in my locked car for a few minutes.   What are you comfortable with??

Bedtime is getting easier these days.  DJ isn’t fighting it quite so much, and when she does, I am not giving in so easily!  As I’ve said before, we’re both growing up.  And now that we’re not battling so hard, I am really enjoying the special moments just before I kiss DJ’s soft head, say “good night,” and exit her room as quickly as possible.  (Because no matter how tired she is, when I leave her room, she makes a huge fuss before wearing herself out).

There was something really special about last night.  Zach put new batteries in DJ’s Twilight Turtle Constellation Night Light, so her room was glowing.  The green and blue stars and moon illuminated the walls, and she looked around with such wonder in her sleepy eyes.  I felt myself crawl into the moment with her, forgetting about our schedule, and never-minding the things that I was anxious to get to once she fell asleep.  I let her stand up in her bed, and touch the walls gently, moving her hands through the lights and babbling on and on about what she was experiencing.

After several minutes, she laid down on her back, in my outstretched arm – snug against my side and tucked under my armpit.  We both looked up at the ceiling and began singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”  For the first time, DJ had specifically asked for this song using the hand motions that we use along with our singing.  It was amazing to me that she had connected the lyrics of the song to what she was seeing.  We sang quietly, stretching our fingers in and out from the palms of our hands, emulating flashing lights.  After two repetitions of the song, rather than making my break for the bedroom door, I thought a good ol’ bedtime story was in order.

I told DJ about a time when I was young (“but not as young as her”) and had a campout on my front deck with a girlfriend.  I shared all the details with her, how the weather was so hot out, how we were a little scared to be outside, and how the neighbor’s cat absolutely terrified us when he jumped onto the top of our tent!  I giggled, and although DJ didn’t find the humor in it – the moment was so, so sweet.  Magical, really.

I had become a mom who was telling my child stories about my own childhood.  How surreal.  I AM A MOM.  Sometimes I am absolutely overtaken with emotion when I think about that…..I am a mother.  Wow.  The responsibility, the pride, the love….being a mother is humbling, powerful, absolutely life-altering and soul-transforming.  A little being that was created by love, and grew inside of me, lays beside me resting her head on my arm.  Her hair so soft from her bubble bath, and her tiny footy-pajama’d body warm from our snuggling….the most perfect being I have ever known, all mine to mother and care for.

I just love DJ so much.  I love being her mom.  I feel more privileged that I ever have – more than I could have ever imagined.  It was just one of those reflective nights, I guess…..feels good.  Life feels complete.

It’s nice to know that I got my period normally. This is a huge step from where I started. I mean from not having a period to having to use progesterones to induce a period, getting my eggs to ovulate….I don’t even know if I am ovulating yet, but there’s got to be something going on if I got a normal period and had normal period symptoms. I was really hoping to be pregnant, but then again, maybe it wasn’t my time.

I was so confident that I was that I was telling my friends about my symptoms, but they kept telling me to not get overworked about them. It’s so hard not to when you’ve been waiting this long. I’m taking my clomid this week and will try again this month. I was going to do the artificial insemination method, but were going to wait until next month for that.

Looks like I only have until March to have a baby this year, otherwise, the baby will be born by 2013. Geez, seems so far away.

I’ve also been looking into other reasons why I may be infertile. I do a lot of jumping jacks and I’ve read that jumping jacks or any high intensity workouts are very bad.

“Among those who reported training to exhaustion (regardless of frequency and duration), 24 per cent had fertility problems. In the group that had trained almost every day (regardless of the intensity and duration), 11 per cent reported the same. And when we compared those who trained to exhaustion to those who trained more moderately, we found that the first group had a three-fold greater risk of impaired fertility,” says Sigridur Lara Gudmundsdottir, a PhD candidate at NTNU.”

“Among all these women, we found two groups who experienced an increased risk of infertility,” says Sigridur Lara Gudmundsdottir, a PhD candidate in NTNU’s Human Movement Science Programme. “There were those who trained almost every day. And there were those who trained until they were completely exhausted. Those who did both had the highest risk of infertility.”

Read more: http://www.articlesbase.com/womens-health-articles/do-intense-workouts-decrease-your-chances-of-pregnancy-1529406.html

Now, I don’t train that hardcore, but I do like to do my jumping jacks and work out. That being said, I’ve also read that jumping jacks or anything in that nature is considered high intense workouts and those trying to get pregnant should stick to low or moderate intensity, like swimming, walking (not running), stationary bike (not spinning), and yoga.

I’ve been really enjoying yoga lately. When I did jog, it wasn’t for more than 15 minutes total, so this is just as good, burns as much calories, and makes me sore the next day. On top of that, yoga has been very relaxing and soothing to my soul. I’ve been reading up on how yoga can really improve fertility!

“Many medical centers have teamed up with yoga instructors to offer courses in yoga for fertility: New York University’s Fertility Center runs a class, as does Chicago at the Fertility Centers of Illinois, and Washington, DC’s Shady Grove Fertility. Some yoga studios also feature classes designed to boost the chances of conception.”

” Hip-opening poses can aid fertility. The double pigeon, a modified seated cross-legged/lotus posture, stretches the hip muscles. Reclining baddha konasana also helps to open the hips and increase blood flow to the groin – it’s akin to a butterfly position, where you put the soles of your feet together and let your knees splay out to the sides. In the reclining version of this pose, you lie on your back and perform baddha konasana. Seated baddha konasana is said to stimulate the ovaries.”

(http://www.opposingviews.com/i/could-yoga-aid-fertility)

Also check out this link: http://www.increasefertilitytips.com/increase-fertility-tips-articles/lifestyle-and-infertility/try-yoga-for-fertility-when-exercising-is-bad-for-fertility

Earlier this week I was reflecting about how our life I calming down a bit and I was running out of things to blog about.  Kids were doing OK in school, the various therapies and schedules are old hat now.  We were reveling in the joy of same old/same old.   Apparently that was all the universe needed to give me a big old blog worthy day.  Ready?  It’s a good one. 

My son has recently started with some medication that help him control his most problematic behavoiors and allow him to focus at school.  On Monday morning I got a note from his teacher telling me what a wonderful day he had been having.  He was sharing and listening and doing his work.  He was kind and gentle, self motivated and a total joy to have around.  After I read the note and finished crying (because no one has EVER, EVER, EVER written a note like that to me before about this child.  EVER).  I sent it to everyone I know; friends, former teachers and therapists, grandparents, etc.  I was a proud, proud momma.  He hopped off the bus from school in a mood.  And I don’t mean a good mood.  Within seconds of walking into the door he was tantruming;  lunch was wrong, his sister used too much tape, he hated his Valentines. The list went on and on.   Within 10 minutes he was in a full on rage.  Watching him rage is scary (I am used to it by now) and it usually makes everyone in the house cry.  He throws things, he tries to hurt himself and others, he basically  needs to be put in a safe place where we just wait it out.  When he is in this place, he is not teachable. He is not able to reason out his behavior.  He is acting from the most basic of instinct.  He feels unsafe and worried so he is going to lash out and try to protect himself.    The other kids in the family get really worried when they see him so upset.  A rage day throws off the dynamic of the entire household in a major way.  There have been many times over the years during his rages where aren’t sure if we can keep him safe.  There have been times when we have debated if we need to take him to an emergency room and have him 5150′d.  In layman’sterms, checked into a hospital and sedated until he is calm again.    I have many problems with this option. First of all, I no longer have “custody” of him. I have no say in his care until he is checked out of the hospital (which can take up to two weeks).  Second, I am not allowed to see him outside of visiting hours (about an hour a day).  When you have a child (remember, he is 6) who has attachment issues and never feels like he can trust his parents and is unworthy of love–taking him to strangers and leaving him there and disappearing for days at a time is a TERRIBLE idea.  So, considering this option means it is really, really a dozyof an episode. It was.  Don’t get me started on the lack of care for mental health patients outside of crisis situations.  Really. Don’t get me started.  We took a trip to the ER, but ultimately decided to weather the storm at home.  

My wonderful nanny and I took turns keeping him safe while the other tried to keep the other kids calm.  Like I said, it is scary when this happens (most of all it is scary for my boy. In between his rages he would cry out to me “mom, why do I feel this way? Please make it stop”).   By the time we got him to bed, he was reasonably calm and safe.  He was exhausted and fell asleep pretty quickly.  I finally managed to throw together some sort of Valentines dinner for the other kids and we got everyone to bed.   Victory. 

The next day (yesterday) was one of the most anticipated days of the year in our house,as far as my kids are concerned.  It was dentist day!! And I am not kidding–they love going to Dr. Quo.  They actually say “yay, the dentist”.  He gets all 4 of them done in 30 minutes (they do them all at the same time) and he works with special needs kids.  Cubby was so happy. It was all he could do to get to school so dentist time would come sooner.  As he hopped off the bus, he was still excited.  I loaded him and Tiny in the car and we were about to leave in my trusty (if totally filthy) minivan.  At the last minute,  I was reminded that a trip to the toy store was in order when they kids got a cavity free check up.  I left my wallet in the house so I ran to go get it.  I opened the door, hopped out of the car and headed for the front door.  Except I forgot to take the car out of reverse (I hadn’t started it yet…stupid, stupid, stupid).  My life flashed before my eyes as I watched the car back slowly down the driveway.   I raced back to the car to jump in and hit the brakes,  but not before the open door caught on a concrete wall by our driveway. As the car continued down our driveway, the door got stretched open wider and wider. 

And then if fell off.  

 One little piece of hinge was holding it together.   I broke the car.  The kids at this point are totally freaked out AND  sad because they were going to miss the dentist.  They were actually crying because they didn’t want to miss the dentist.  Chaos ensues.  I race inside again (but I did put the car in gear this time) and beg my nanny to borrow her car. I  throw the kids in Maria’s car and head down to Palo Alto.  As we get closer and closer to the dentists office, my son starts telling me his tummy hurts.  This is common for him. I hear it multiple times a day.  This kid is a ball of anxiety, dipped in stress and rolled in a candy coating of angst.  I would worry if he DIDN”T tell me his tummy hurt.  We pulled into the parking lot (only 10 minutes late, wheeeeee) and just as we are walking in the door I hear an unmistakable sound.  Most mothers know this sound. It is the one that comes nanoseconds before your kid empties the contents of his stomach.  Young Cubby projectile vomited (ralphed, yaked, hurled) ALL OVER the place.  I turned away from the horrified receptionist,  scooped him up and raced him to the car.  I left him on the front seat and went back inside with Tiny.  I literally launched her at the waiting  hygienist and returned to the car; where I discover that Cubby had wasted no time covering all surfaces with more vomit.  So, so much vomit.  On some level I’ve got to admire a kid that doesn’t do things half way. So, one kid is crying in the dentist chair because she wants mommy there, one kid is crying in the vomit covered car (the borrowed car) and can’t stop fixating on the fact that he has thrown up all over his socks. Heaven forbid we get his socks dirty.  He somehow blocked the vomit that covered the rest of him (even his hair) and every other possible surface.   I am thirty minutes from home and to top it all off, I discover I still don’t have my wallet.  

Leaving before Tiny gets her appointment finished is out (because honestly, I am one car accident and one vomit car into this, SOMEONE is getting their teeth cleaned).  Driving to get some new clothes is out (no money).  I did what any self respecting mother would do.  I stripped him naked, threw his clothes away, borrowed the disposable dental office clothing covers and mopped up the mess as best as I could.  I collected a still sobbing Tiny from the dentist (no cavities, HURRAH) and put her in the car (“MOM!!! It smells SO BAD IN HERE!!”)  and there was crying.  Then I had to break it to her that we weren’t making a stop at the toy store just yet. More crying.   The good news is that at this point, I wasn’t crying yet.   Pretty good huh? I’m not finished yet. 

 I arrived home and had to face my freakishly clean and organized (and clean) nanny.  She doesn’t even let my kids wear shoes in her car.  I might have destroyed a piece of her soul when she saw what we had done to her beloved car.  Before I could get her car detailed, I was determined to get my car to the body shop to see what could be done about the door.  Time was running out. I couldn’t actually close the door, nor could I drive without it dragging on the ground (and that can’t be good) so I got all MacGyver for the second time that day.  I found a pair of childrens sweat pants and tied the door back to the car frame. I reinforced it with several garbage bags that I threaded through the windows and attached to the seat belt.  Super safe.  Cubby was not in any position to be left alone (and by that I mean, he refused to leave my side–also common for him after a rage). I didn’t feel like dealing with another rage at the moment so I just used my back up package of wipes to get the worst of the chunks off of him, wrapped him in a towel and handed him a garbage bag to puke into.  I was going to get to that body shop before if closed if it killed me.  

It turns out that if you get pulled over on your way to the shop because your car door is tied on with a garbage bag and you have half naked kid in the back of your car who is vomiting into a garbage bag and you are also covered in vomit and have a certain crazy look in your eye that says “JUST TRY ME OFFICER, I am SO going to fight this ticket in court and not a judge in the world will be on your side”, that officer will not give you a ticket.  Lucky for me, I got pulled over right in front of the shop (stupid left turns) and they saw the whole thing.  When they saw me pull in (and be honest, they smelled me pull in), they fixed my car right then and there. For free.  They replaced the hinge that I broke off the door, punded out the dents and sent me on my way in about 15 minutes.  I’d like to think it is because I deserved a break, but mostly I think it because they didn’t want our vomit anywhere near their office.  I might have scared them a little bit (but I was still not crying–VICTORY).   We made it home in time to shove a handful of bills at my nanny and send her home early to get her car taken care of (or “de-ralphed”). 

So, to recap the 24 hours.  Raging, forgetting, car door ripping, puking, speeding, teeth cleaning, crying, puking, police interacting, car door fixing, crying, puking, laundry, car detailing and crying.  Try not to be jealous of how glamorous and easy my life as a stay at home mom is.  I also wish that I could say that this is one of the worst (and wierdest) day of my life, but it isn’t even in the top 10.  Much of the time I think I am secretly on an episode of a reality show called something like “Really?…..REALLY?”.  

All is well that ends well.    I am ready for a Diet Coke and an episode of Top Chef.   How was YOUR Valentines Day?

I am finally getting caught up on some of my reading.  I had three issues of “Parents” magazine stacked up on my desk that I was anxious to get to.  Late last week, while DJ napped and I committed to a little “soul care” (no laundry, no dishes, no menu planning, etc.), I slipped into an afternoon bath (heaven!) with my January edition.

When I flipped to page 79, and the headline read “Kids Who Won’t Eat,” in big bold letters, I thought, “Now this is the article for me!”  I was assuming that it was about picky toddlers, who as I’ve said before, seemingly live on air (and yogurt and Goldfish crackers).  Much to my dismay, the article wasn’t about children refusing vegetables, but children refusing food altogether.  This article was about kids with eating disorders…..kids, with eating disorders.  I can barely wrap my mind around it.

Now, reader beware – this week’s post from New Mommy isn’t going to be fun and games.  I feel compelled to share the appalling statistics that I read in an effort to raise awareness about this heartbreaking epidemic.  I truly believe that as parents, especially those of us with daughters, we have an absolute responsibility to do all that we can to end this phenomenon.

This issue is particularly important to me as I struggled with eating disorders at a very young age.  I can recall feeling insecure about my body as young as middle school, and still cringe when I think back to some mean remarks other kids would make about my weight.  By the time I got to middle school, and high school – I had developed a very bizarre relationship with food.  There were times when I would go without eating altogether, times when I would binge and purge, and still other times when I invented crazy rules about what I was allowed to eat.  For instance, I was once on a Cheerios, Diet Coke and boiled chicken diet my junior year of high school.

Anyhow, without getting into all of the details, I was able to overcome my eating disorders.  What I have learned though, is that although I am now able to control the physical actions associated with an eating disorder, I still fight to control my mindset.  I still struggle with a distorted image of my body.   And now that I have a beautiful, perfect daughter – the thought of her ever enduring such paralyzing insecurity absolutely crushes me.

So, when I read that the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality reported that the number of children under 12 years old who were hospitalized with eating disorders more than doubles between 1999 and 2006, and that the typical onset of anorexia used to be 13 – 17, but has now dropped to 9 – 13, I couldn’t help but feel obligated to uncover this dark secret.  The article went on to say that doctors are seeing girls as young as six, six years old, with severe eating disorders.  Six year olds who have to endure intensive therapy.  My heart breaks.

Why is this happening?  “Parents Magazine” uncovered a few very insightful theories, like the fact that not only are celebrities thinner these days, but that they’re also younger, leaving kids with idols that are closer to their own age, and thus causing image comparison much earlier in life.  However, I am going to talk directly to mothers for a moment, as the information that I feel the most urged to share is about the responsibility we have to set a healthy perception of self for our daughters.

“Parents Magazine” specifically mentions the importance of avoiding the ”D” word around our daughters.  Talking about the need to diet in front of our young, and impressionable girls, can have a very powerful affect on their own self-image.  Let’s remember, our children look up to us.  Girls see their mommies as beautiful and strong, and if they hear us slamming ourselves, their eyes will inevitably begin seeing their own bodies in a negative light.  It destroys me to think that I could ever do anything to cause DJ to see herself as anything but the amazing creation that she is.

I’m not going to lie, this is an actual challenge for me.  Constantly wishing I was in better shape means that those words are often on the tip of my tongue.  I am always reminding myself not to let those words leave my mouth in the presence of DJ.  I know she is watching, listening, and learning so much about being a girl by watching me be a woman.  There are moments when this even requires me to feign confidence – and I actually think that’s ok.  We’ve all heard of faking it until we make it, right?  Well, sometimes we need to fake contentment with ourselves for the sake of our children’s healthy self-image development.

Of course, kids also need to see us eating well balanced meals, being active, and even treating ourselves to sweets here and there (when kids witness us cutting foods out completely, they can’t always decipher that it’s because that particular food is bad, and often begin seeing that food, in general, is bad.  So, indulge here and there!)  They need to see that while we’re making a huge effort at leading a healthy lifestyle, we are not obsessing over it.

If you’re concerned about your child and their relationship with food, here are “Six Signs of Trouble” to look out for : 1. She’s constantly looking in the mirror or running her hands over her body, 2. He is frequently constipated, 3. She won’t stop moving (compulsive exercise, or constant fidgeting in a chair), 4. She suddenly becomes a vegetarian, or starts restricting herself from certain food groups, 5. She doesn’t get her period, 6. She checks out certain websites that give tips for starvation (I know, it is soooooo disturbing that these sites even exist).

Bottom line, childhood eating disorders are real, and deeply, deeply sad.   We have to begin setting better examples – as mothers, parents, and a society as a whole.  We’ve got to begin teaching our children the true definition of beauty – and we’ve got to believe in it ourselves.  The health of our kids’ body image lies largely in our ability to accept ourselves just as we are, and to be proud of our uniqueness.

I was starting to feel different…My nipples were unusually sensitive and sore. My back was hurting more than usual and I was feeling fatigue throughout the day…could it be? Could I finally be prego?

I ended up missing my period..I was supposed to have it on Friday, but I did some research and found that women can get their periods anywhere from 28-31 days, even 32! If you are irregular, it can even take longer. I was so sure, I mean I did the research and the symptoms I were experiencing could actually be either PMS or pregnancy symptoms. A few days later, I had a lot of cramps. At this time, I was thinking..hmm…are these period cramps or is the egg implanting on me? I hear cramps when pregnancy occur because of that…I was getting very excited. I noticed my body temperature increasing as well, and sure enough, that was another sign, too.

Day 31 passes by and still, no period. I was so excited..I woke up to find that I didn’t have any more pregnancy tests, so I had my husband get some. Later that evening, I went to take the test…I sat there and placed the test in my urine stream. My heart started beating and I started feeling shakey…would I see 2 stripes? A few seconds go by, I see the window fill up and there it was…a single stripe. I shook the test a few times and let it sit there, maybe it needs some time. The box does say 5 minutes. I left the room and was so nervous to come back, but still, single line. I was so crushed. I mean what is going on? I told my husband and he was bummed out, too.

I didn’t know what to think or do. My doctor was out of town until next week, so should I get back on progesterones to induce my period? What if I am prego and the test is wrong? I wanted to sit on it for a few days, I mean geez, I thought that this was it.

Then I wake up the next day, and there it was, my period. I was happy and sad at the same time. Happy because my period FINALLY came on its own. That means that I am ovulating. Sad because I was definitely not pregnant. At least having my period on my own tells me that I am starting to get back to normal.

I have a really good feeling that IT’S going to finally happen….

I read Bread and Jam for Frances to my kids the other night. It was one of the more significant books of my early childhood. When I was 2 I received a stuffed bear in my Easter basket (yeah, Easter, should have been a bunny, whatever). I named her Frances and she became my most significant toy for the next 10 years. I realize Frances is a badger, not a bear, but don’t get hung up on the details, okay?

With this rereading of it, it dawned on me why I liked the book so much. Once Frances has her epiphany and realizes there is more to eat than bread and jam, Hoban spends a page describing her lunch.

I have a thermos bottle with cream of tomato soup . . . a lobster-salad sandwich on thin slices of white bread. I have celery, carrot sticks, and black olives, and a little cardboard shaker of salt for the celery. And two plums and a tiny basket of cherries. And a vanilla pudding with chocolate sprinkles and a spoon to eat it with.

The utterly charming illustration that accompanies this shows Frances at her school desk with her lunch spread out on a doiley and finished off with a tiny vase of violets. How could you not love this? It’s all about the food and the presentation of the food. I was a fledgling foodie then, though I didn’t realize it.  My mother was all about the presentation of food — colorful plates, parsley garnishes and all.  So of course I found this just.so.charming and appealing on many levels. I think it’s the cherries in a basket and the cardboard salt shaker that put me over the edge.

On the way home from school the next day, my daughter started plotting out her dinner–”a grilled cheese sandwich, a side of tomato soup, a little shaker of salt, a few carrots . . .”

The legacy continues.

As I read Facebook posts from my friends and family, I am seeing a lot of the same things; snow, mangy late winter days and serious winter blahs.  This is one of the reasons that I am in love with where we live.  Just as the rest of the country (seemingly) is struggling to make it a few more weeks till clear weather and budding trees, we are in the thick of it.  And it saves me every year.

When you have kids that struggle with sensory issues and movement, the ability to be outside is huge. Bigger than Texas. Bigger than Ice Cream.  Sure, we allow crazy things like riding scooters in the house, moving the trampoline indoors and turning the family room into a jungle gym (literally, you can climb and jump off of stuff in here) but it can still feel very inhibiting for these kids.  Outside of the walls of the house, my boy can move a little bit faster, yell a little bit louder and generally get what he needs from his environment in a much easier way.  We go to parks all winter long, so there is always access to the great outdoors (unlike those that get snowed in for the season) but nothing compares to that first week when you can just smell summer.  The scent of jasmine is in the air, the sun is just a tiny bit warmer and I start itching to get the snow cone machine out.   My soul is filled with peace and well being and all seems right again.  Heaven.

I adore this time of year.   Right now, I am going to take my sensory kid (and the other ones too) for a long, long bike ride around the bay.  Wanna come?