Babies, Brownies and Blessings

I grew up in the paper-shortage era. At least I think I did. Is that even a thing? If it isn't how do I explain why I feel the incessant need to ration paper? What sense does it make that I would feel such anxiety at handing over a handful of paper to my daughter? Even if it is for the 4th time that day. Or tossing a handful of school papers, I kinda get all guilt-ridden. It's not expensive but I feel like I'm handing out gold. I bought 750 sheets of copier paper for $5. At $0.007 I am certain I can afford more than one sheet of paper. Where is all this guilt coming from? Deep down I must think we'll cause the end of the forests if I don't stand watch. I was never one to take a responsibility lightly. Growing up in the 80s and 90s there was quite a hoopla about saving rain forests and trees. I remember getting little evergreen trees to plant on national tree day (what's the actual name of that day?) and feeling like I was really a hero. I wa...

Our BigBoy #1 has always been...strong. There were numerous playdates that ended poorly in the early years due to his...strength. He was the size of a 5 year old at 3 and we encouraged people to think of him as a dumb 5 year old or a really big 3 year old. Behavior management topped our to-do list with him along with providing an appropriate outlet for his aggression. Don't get me wrong, he's a great kid. Just big and strong and LOVES to play. Enter football this past fall. He fell in love! He did nothing but play and practice and was fantastic at it...he especially enjoyed defensive roles. All he would do for hours was throw a football. He got darn good. This spring we fell into Lacrosse and WE (his parents) fell in love! LAX (I've learned that's the abbreviation for the sport) is a fast-paced, contact-filled sport that BigBoy #1 has really improved at in just a few short weeks. The games are 60 minutes and action packed which make it ...

I'm typing without glasses/contacts or any other sight enhancer and I.CAN.SEE! Dumbfounded, overwhelmed, shocked are more my reactions than excited or ecstatic. Partly because it's so weird, partly because it's not perfect yet. Here's the skinny on the last week... Surgery day: Arrived eager and not really nervous. The guy who was ahead of me came out of his procedure a little Valium-tipsy and said it was the "easiest thing he's ever done". Sounds good. Due to a reaction I've had with sedatives I wasn't given my Valium until the doctor was sure I wouldn't cross-react. Once I got the go-ahead I was given the Valium, paid for the procedure and given the rundown on what to expect, what to do in the week to follow, etc. Ten minutes later the doctor was ready for me. My Valium was not. BUT I wasn't nervous and just thought, "eh, it'll be fine. Easiest thing I've ever done." Fast forward just a couple minutes after ...

I was 6 years old when I first sat in an optometrist's chair, eager for the glasses that were in my near future. I even fudged a little and said I couldn't see as well as I could just to be sure I would get them! The glasses I chose were as unique as I felt I was, with the bows at the bottom instead of the top. My grandpa always joked that I had my glasses on upside down. Yowzers  At 12 my eyes were quite bad with an astigmatism to boot. Unable to see a darn thing without glasses, my folks had mercy on my and I got contacts. Had to do gas permeables because of the astigmatism. The following many years were full of popping those things in and out, cleaning them in my mouth in moments of desperation, pulling over on the side of the road to scrounge for one that exited my eye without my permission. Oh yes, choker and all! Then I became a nurse working night shift and the contacts no longer worked well. Dry and tired eyes were the perfect combination ...

Intensive Care Unit. Those three words give pause to anyone who hears them in relation to the status of someone they know. It indicates a tightrope walk between life and death many times and it's seriousness is not over-stated. Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Just one little word changes perception. Scary? Certainly. Teetering? Sometimes. Long-term? Often. Babies? So fragile but darling...can I touch, hold, visit? Stable? For weeks, even months. Sucker Punched? Yep, out of left field the world turns upside down quicker than you can say bradycardia. In the NICU we can get lulled into a status quo that makes those sudden turns breathtaking. It shouldn't be unexpected, it's an ICU after all. But somehow, when we do what we do well, we aren't prepared to have our skills fail us. We aren't braced for the hit. And the sucker-punch reality of the NICU hits again with a staggering blow. Stunned? Yes. Disbelief? For sure. What did I miss? Over an...

She's the picture you see in the movies...princess nightgown, plush puppy, favorite blankie. Sweaty hair swept across her precious forehead, cheeks flush from sleep, her chest rising and falling. The tantrum that got her there early long forgotten in the quiet of her rhythmic breathing. He's the picture you see in the movies... head tipped to one side, camo comforter across his bare little boy chest, pair of six guns peaking from under the pillow, favorite blankie hidden but there. The mean words that got him there early long forgotten in the flutter of his "too long to be wasted on a boy" lashes as he dreams. Big He is the picture you see in the movies... newly-long hair tossed across his face, favorite blankie now stowed away. His stance even at rest one of strength. He's becoming a man, but my boy child while he sleeps. The strength that brought tears to his brother from a punch tossed in anger now silent as he rests. It seemed possible that the en...

The kids and I were at an indoor playground a few months ago with a dear friend. We were chatting during a rare moment of uninterrupted conversation while the kids played. In my periphery I noticed that 2 of my 3 had broken the "you've gotta have socks on" rule. I stopped talking mid-sentence and prepared to yell across the gym to the kids. My friend stopped me and said, "let the owner do it, maybe they'll listen better".   At that moment I was at a cross-roads in parenting: do I parent my kids or let someone else do it. What also became crystal clear was that there was more to this for me. The question I was actually asking myself was this: if I wait for someone else to tell my kids to follow the rules, what kind of mom will the owner think I am? Would I appear disrespectful? Lazy? Clueless and unaware? Would she think I'm a bad mom and I'm what's wrong with the world? Why does a little thing like telling my kids to put on thei...