Mama and Papa Style

A while ago I had a funny dream. There were a ton of people in my kitchen, eating and partying, and Brad Pitt was one of them.  The party wrapped up and everyone headed out, chattering, laughing, and not noticing that I was left behind with a disaster area to clean up.  I felt a sinking feeling.  But then Brad, as he was about to leave, turned around and got to work with me, chatting good-naturedly as he cleaned.  At one point, we started talking about our kids and parenting and he burst into "Incy Wincy Spider", giving it 100%.  Of course, no Brad Pitt dream would be complete without a little romance.  But I know I'm no match for Angelina, and anyway, I've got my own Brad at home.  So we had a little "Bridges of Madison County" type romance and went back to our respective families.

I told Sean about it in the morning (so I wasn't cheating, folks!).  "It says a lot about how my idea of romance has changed," I commented, and he guffawed.  Romance is having your partner notice that the kitchen is a mess and not leave you to clean it alone.  It is about seeing him patiently and lovingly work his way through your toddler's meltdown.  Having him take the kids out of the house so you can get some me time. About being in the trenches together as Boodge has an unexplainable puke-fest in the middle of the night.  Changing sheets and jammies, emptying puke buckets, and meeting worried eyes over sobbing child.  Laying down after it is over, child on my arm, my hand resting on the soft strong arm of my husband as we all try to get back to sleep.

I married a childless man, and our time together was different then.  Walks on the beach, lazy afternoons at an all day concert in the park, long nights cuddling on the couch, evenings talking over dinner.  Lots of doing our own things.  Now I am married to a father.  And a really good one, too.  One who, when I went in to tend to my croupy son at 11:30 last night, was already in there, and took care of it. All night.  Before, our relationship was all about talking and being together, but now we are doing together.  We carry a load on our shoulders, a beautiful, bursting load that we are grateful for but nonetheless, that feels heavy sometimes.  We are both exhausted by it, a lot of the time.

I look forward to the day we can get back to long walks on the beach, lazy afternoons at all day concerts, long nights cuddling on the couch.  But even more meaningful, we both look forward to doing those things, with our children.  That I am with someone who loves being with our kids as much as I do, who loves them so much he is willing to be exhausted for them alongside me, makes me love him so much.  Someone who knows that this time is temporary and precious and wants to be here for it, doing what needs to be done.  I am grateful for him, and for all that he gives to me and to that which we both hold most dear.  That is romance, Mama and Papa style.  I love the father I ended up married to.  Happy Father's Day, honey. 

A Lovely Voice

We all say things we will never do as parents, before we actually become parents.  Only to realize later how incredibly naive we were.  There's a funny post about it by Amy at "Rants from Mommyland", voicing her top 10 "Oh, now I get it" moments.  Sean and I used to say we wouldn't be doing the whole "children's music" thing.  We love music, and singing, and felt kids could enjoy adult music just as well.  We couldn't see spending hours listening to endless renditions of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star", "Hokey Pokey" and "Baby Beluga".  And the myriad other songs that I now know every word to and usually am singing to myself as I'm going about my day. 

There's no escaping it, kids like kids music.  And parents like seeing their children smile, sing, and catch on to music.  And it's just much easier for them to catch on with Twinkle Twinkle.  So, we quickly and quietly surrendered to children's music, just like we surrendered to a house littered with toys and toast with no crusts and the use of our bodies as jungle gyms.  It's not that bad, really.  Singing is singing, it still lifts the spirit.  And my sleep deprived brain can't remember lots of complex lyrics anymore, anyway.

Still, I want to share one of my happiest finds in children's music that adults can enjoy just as much.  Elizabeth Mitchell.  My friend gave me two of her CD's, "Catch the Moon" (with Lisa Loeb) and "You Are My Sunshine", when Boodge was a baby.   Mitchell has a beautiful, smooth voice and a low-key delivery that makes all the children's songs she sings sound sophisticated and fun at the same time.   She sings old standards like "Twinkle Twinkle" as well as more hip covers like "Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley--one of my favorite comfort songs.  You can one of her versions here, though it is a bit different on the CD, titled "You Are My Little Bird".  It's her daughter and husband singing with her.  Beautiful.

We lost Catch the Moon in the move somehow, and just got reacquainted with it when Peanut was born.  It has become the soundtrack to this time in my life, as Boodge likes to put it on at least once a day, and usually first thing.   Two songs in particular have become a bit of a morning meditation for me, setting me right for the day.  One is "So Glad I'm Here", which you can listen to on her site (there is a generous selection of music there to listen to, so stay a while).  It is sort of gospelly and repeats the lines, "So glad I'm here, everyday" and "Love brought me here, everyday" with a nice clap-able rythm.  Just what I need when I am grumpy from an early wake-up.  Right--love. That's why the hell I'm up at 6am after a crappy night. And I'm glad to be a mum, truly.  I just forgot for a minute.  By the end of the song, I usually remember.

Another one that I love is a Dylan cover called "New Morning".  I'm sure Dylan didn't write it for his kids (maybe?) but it perfectly expresses how I feel sometimes when I am able to just stop and enjoy the miracle of my children and the simple good fortune of each day I have with them, as they show me the world anew.  "So happy just to see you smile, underneath the sky of blue."

I couldn't find an audio version, so here are all the lyrics.  I recommend you get your hands on Michell's version, on Catch the Moon.  And if you're looking for some music that you and your children can really enjoy together then don't be afraid to pick up a few of her CD's.   She truly is a lovely voice.  

New Morning

Can’t you hear that rooster crowin’?
Rabbit runnin’ down across the road
Underneath the bridge where the water flowed through
So happy just to see you smile
Underneath the sky of blue
On this new morning, new morning
On this new morning with you

Can’t you hear that motor turnin’?
Automobile comin’ into style
Comin’ down the road for a country mile or two
So happy just to see you smile
Underneath the sky of blue
On this new morning, new morning
On this new morning with you

The night passed away so quickly
It always does when you’re with me
Can’t you feel that sun a-shinin’?
Groundhog runnin’ by the country stream
This must be the day that all of my dreams come true
So happy just to be alive
Underneath the sky of blue
On this new morning, new morning
On this new morning with you
So happy just to be alive
Underneath the sky of blue
On this new morning, new morning
On this new morning with you
New morning . . .

Three Weeks

It's been a while.  Over three weeks since I last posted.  You'd think with my mom in town for three weeks, I would have had tons of time to post.  I could have, I suppose, but I didn't really want to.  My mom lives across the country, and the time we get together usually amounts to about 8-10 weeks a year, in chunks of two or three visits.  It's precious time.  Even though I could leave her with the kids and do things on my own, I'd rather we all spent the time doing things together.  Cooking, cleaning, eating, playing going to the pool, taking little trips. I love watching her delight in my children, love seeing how her goofy, not-afraid-to-look-like-an-idiot side (oh, so embarrassing when I was a teen) delights them right back.

I said a lot of things in last Mother's Day post about what my mom did right, but I think I forgot this most important thing: she plays.  Play, I read once, is the language of children.  My mom speaks it fluently. From the minute she comes into the house she is sitting on the floor, doing puzzles, building towers, creating play dough sculpture.  She goofs the kids (including Boodge's cousins, who we visited) out of arguments and goofs them into their socks and pants and shirts before they even know they're getting dressed.  And meanwhile she's just quietly getting things done that I would normally have to do...dinner, diaper changes, wiping messes.  Boodge, Peanut and I are still adjusting to the loss of all that extra attention, help, and levity.  

I loved her visit. I miss her.  And while she was here, so many changes happened.  I could have written 10 blog posts, but alas, there is just not going to be time to write everything I want to right now.  When Mom came, I had a toothless baby that moved around like a seal, pushing herself up on all fours, thrusting forward with her feet until she fell to the ground 4 inches further down the path.  But the week after Boodge turned three she just started crawling, and a few days after her first steps she was speeding up and down the hallway after her brother, both of them giggling and squealing.  My mom got to see that. It was beautiful. 

She also got to see Peanut sprout her first two teeth, that same week, as uncomplainingly as she has so far done most things.  Now, just a week after Mom left, she is already pulling herself up to the coffee table and reaching for our drinks, bouncing up and down for hours to build those leg muscles.  She's wasting no time getting upright, this one.  We're witnessing that her determination is just as strong as her brother's, though a bit quieter.  Coming soon to our house: lots of things placed on higher surfaces. 

Peanut is on her way up.  She's fully coming into her cuteness, her throaty laugh and her triple half-moon smile.  I'm falling madly, deeply in love with her these days.  I loved her before, of course, but these days, just looking at her makes me googly.  She is almost indecently cute.

Half moon eyes, full moon mouth.

It's her Canucks hat.

I could have photoshopped out the food by her mouth but--she's real.

Little hippie girl.

When my mom came I had a toddler/little boy, who still napped most days and still had his "boo-boo" twice a day.  But while she was here, Boodge turned three, and I ceased to be able to call him a toddler, by my own definitions.  How can you call someone who says things like, "The train is too heavy, maybe that's why there was a derailment?" a toddler?  Someone who so nonchalantly pees standing up, like he's been doing it for years?

And look at that pose? Toddler? No, rock star.

And he's not my nursling anymore.  After he turned three, and I mean right after, we ended that part of our relationship.  I was done.  Really, really done, and I had been telling him that when he was three we were going to end it.  I didn't want to create any more confusion by dragging it out past the big landmark of the third birthday.  I wanted him to get it that way: three=done. 

You're saying if I eat this cupcake, I have to be done nursing?

Also, I wanted to do it while I had my mom here for back up with Peanut, so that I could give Boodge what he needed of me emotionally.  It turns out he didn't need too much.  He took it much better than I expected.  We've crossed that threshold, and I'm already nostalgic for it, but also glad it's over.  Maybe I'll write another post about it, describing my experience with tandem nursing and how I went about the weaning.  It's in my mental post list, just waiting for time to come out.

For now, I'll leave you with this tantalizing little part of it: Boo Boo cupcakes.

No, if you eat THIS cupcake, you have to be done nursing.

That's how we celebrated the end.  I wanted it to feel like a graduation, a celebrated passage into a new phase.  Hopefully, it won't just be something that he finds painfully embarrassing one day. But it probably will be that, too.

The end of Boo Boo has meant the end of nap, so we're finding a new rhythm to our days.  No more mid-day break when simultaneous nap happens, the time I usually used to blog. My time has to come in the evenings, after the kids are asleep, and that time is not always ideal for writing, because I am often asleep too.  Today, however, I have them miraculously both sleeping early, and lots of time and energy for me.  I'm going to do my best to get back to semi-regular programming here on A Mama Being, because I'm awed that even with no new post for a few weeks, I had almost 300 visits last month.  Ok, I'm not gonna be a top ranked blog with that, but I'm really flattered anyway.

Friends, family, and friendly readers and lurkers I hope to meet one day, thank you for coming!  Thanks for sharing your thoughts when you do, and for being interested in my journey as a Mama.   Thanks for not judging me, but offering support and wisdom.  You help lift my days.  I wish I could share so much more, all those extraordinary, ordinary moments that come with our days.  All the bubbling feelings and ideas my kids bring me.  I'm really glad I got to share so many of those with my mom in the last month, even if it meant I didn't share them here. 

A Letter to Boodge on his Third Birthday

I started this post a while before Boodge's birthday and was just unable to get it done, thanks mostly to a nasty stomach flu that swept through our house the week before.   Here it is, one day late.  Boodge turned three yesterday. 

Dear Boodge,

You are sleeping as I write this.  We are gearing up for your birthday, cleaning house, setting up guest rooms, gathering supplies for the party of cousins, family friends, and grandparents that is about to ensue.  Just before you fell asleep you cried because we would not give you candy from the machine at the grocery store, then cried all the way through two more stores until we called it a day and brought you home for your nap.  As you cried, you sometimes said, "Mommy, I'm wei-woe." and I would respond, "I know sweetie, you are so wei-woe."  It's your word for that kind of feeling--tired, jumbled up, nothing is right and you just have to cry.  You do that now, you make up words and we adopt them ourselves since they are are often just right to describe something we have no words for.  You say things like, "Mommy, in English we say 'pee, poo' but in Hugriach we say 'po, pa' and in Frgush we say 'maa, foo'."  You say we need to read the "can-structions".

Almost a year ago, more two than three.

I wish I had more words myself, to describe just how my love for you feels.  You are three.  Every time I write these (all three times) birthday posts I realize how much has happened in one year of your life, and I'm in awe of you.   When we started this year you were stringing words together into basic sentences.  Now you are telling stories, making up worlds.  You talk pretty much non-stop a lot of the time, your body moving too as you chatter, running and building and figuring and telling. You tell me about the monkey in your lego tower, how he only ate the bananas when the tree said it was ready, but then he ate them all up and the tree didn't make any more so he went to sleep.  "There was a Daddy named Sean and a Mommy named Katy and a little sister named Peanut and a big brother named Boodge Brookes," you said this week, flying back and forth on the swing,  "And that's the story of us."

This is the year that our story changed, to add a little sister.

She adores him already, but he's not sure about it all....

You struggled with it a little, and I struggled with the adjustment too.  But mostly, you did it with real grace, and the willing sweetness I love in you.  You learned how to share me, and now you are learning how to share all your toys, with your little sister.  She grabs your hair and puts your lego in her mouth.  She wakes up and we have to come inside from the yard, or stop our cuddles.  You don't like all that, but you love her, I see it.  Sometimes your face lights up when you see her, and you stop what you are doing to give her a cuddle and a smile.  She is part of all your games--you build her houses in your toybox, have her driving in your toy car road rally's.  There's always a big brother and a little baby in your make believe families.  You know she's part of us, now.

I saw you go through it, first trying to compete for my attention and pretend your sister didn't exist.  Then a lot of tears as you accepted that things would not be the same.  And then you stretched out and you grew, and you accepted your sister into your heart.  You became a big brother.  

Yep, she's cool.

It didn't hurt that she regards you as her personal superstar.  You learned to hold two things--frustration, sadness, and resentment alongside love and joy and protectiveness.  Something has calmed in you now, and you've embraced the big boy role.  You found the gift in the difficulty, and you turned it into new growth.  It's not an easy thing to do.  You're learning about your emotions, and sometimes they take you out of control, make you feel ugly.  Other times, you can say to me, "Mommy, I'm SO mad!" or "I want some attention!" or, "Mommy I think I just need a hug. I feel a little wei-woe."  And I'm so glad to hear it, and know how to help.

Sometimes you get scared.  Your imagination is in full flower, beautiful to behold.  I love hearing where your mind travels and what it brings back.  But the limitlessness of it all still confuses you.  You believe there is a wolf hiding in the dark shadows of our hallway.  When you wake from your nap you run down the hall as fast as you can.  Once after your sprint you climbed onto my lap where I sat at the computer, and looked back down the hall.  "No wolf down there." you declared as you softened against my tummy, relieved.  "No, no wolves," I murmured, kissing your head.  I was just so happy to be your safe place for a moment, my arms wrapped around you, my nose buried in your soft hair.  Happy to cuddle with my baby.

But you are not a baby anymore (of course you will always be mine, just like in Robert Munsch's "Love You Forever", though I promise I will not sneak into your house one day when you are a man and rock you in my arms while you are sleeping).  You're a kid.  A little one, but a kid, nonetheless.  When we go to friends' houses, you are off with the other kids rather than staying with the grown-ups.  You need your safe place less and less.  That's OK, because you know I'm right here when you do.  And I love watching you flex out those wings and fly away to discover the world in the way only you can.  I love watching you become more and more of who you are.

Thank you for another precious year of lessons for me.  Parenting you this year has challenged me to become a better person.  I've learned to stand by you even when you are not behaving as I'd like.  I've learned to hold patience and compassion for your intense emotions rather than take them personally.  I've learned to yield power in order to gain closeness, and ultimately, cooperation.  And I've learned to turn my attention to the positive things and watch them grow into that light.  Thanks for fumbling through all our changes this year along with me, and showing me that we can handle storms and come out in a sunny, calm spot, with a deeper appreciation of each other.

I do appreciate you in a whole new way now, your generous little spirit, your patience and willingness to help, your rawness of emotion, your eagerness to learn, and the freedom of your mind.   I appreciate you as a full fledged member of the family with new ideas and useful feedback.  As I like to tell you, I love you bigger and bigger each day.  You just keep getting better.  And now you are three.  Happy Birthday little Boodge.  Here's to a long life together. 

It's not a wine crate, it's a boat. 

Love,
Mummy

Bathtime with Peanut: The long version

Every mother knows, you have to think strategically about how and when you complete the tasks you have on your daily list.  There are tasks you can do with the kids around, and those you have to do when they are not. Me, I like to maximize the tasks I can do when they are around so that when they're not, I can do what I want to do.  I fold the laundry while playing lego with Boodge and watching the baby.  I cook with Boodge while the baby sleeps.  I garden with the kids outside, I haul them along to the grocery store.  Some things need specific conditions though, like when I made jam last year.  There were just too many pots of boiling liquids around for me to feel safe unless Boodge was asleep.

Bathtime with Peanut, I learned the hard way, also had to be done when Boodge was sleeping.  I tried getting him "involved" in giving her a bath in the kitchen sink.  The whole time the bath was happening I was frantically trying to hold up a floppy, slippery baby while keeping him from putting the dirty dishes from the other sink into her side.  It ended with water covering most of the counter, and all of us had to be re-dressed afterwards.  Mom's, learn from my mistake.  At least clean out both sinks first.

Next I tried to convince him it would be fun to help me give her a bath in the big tub.  This was around the time that he was doing a lot of negative attention seeking, and nothing to do with his sister seemed fun to him.  So when I explained to him that I had to stay with her and be very careful with her, well, he saw that as a perfect opportunity.  He ran down the hall and started getting up to various forms of no good. I could hear crashing, jumping.  Sometimes he was good enough to come in and tell me what he was up to; "There's juice on the carpet."  Peanut's bath was not very long, hardly worth all that water.

So over the last few weeks, we've devised a new ritual.   Once or twice a week, when Boodge happens to be asleep but Peanut is not, I have my shower while she plays on the bathroom floor.  I put the plug in so I can collect the water and when I am done washing myself, I pull her in with me.   It's become one of my most precious times with her.  Just her and I, naked as the day she was born, warm in the water together.  I lay her on my chest and she splashes by my ear, grinning at me as she discovers this new element.  I stand her up and she examines the drips slipping down the bathroom wall with serious amazement.  She zones out and sucks the facecloth while I pour water on her back from an empty yogurt container.  Once she just put her head on my chest and snuggled in, and I had to push my chest out of the water to keep her above.  We stayed that way for several minutes.  My heart swelled open like a flower.

I love my little Peanut so much.  But it is so hard to get those moments with her that I took for granted with Boodge.  The one on one, quiet, uninterrupted just being together.  When we are in the tub I feel like it's my time to let go into adoring her. There is nothing to be done in the house (it's out there anyway, on the other side of the door).  There is no Boodge vying for my attention, or looking sad because I am cooing at his sister for too long.  Just me and my girl, having some spa time.

And, the practical side of me has to add--two tasks completed; my shower and her bath.  But it's not a task--it's exactly what I want to be doing, and then some.  It's pure delight.  Bathtime with Peanut--I finally got it right.

Election Reflections

Yesterday my country had a federal election.  I don't usually get into politics on my blog, because I find it hard to write about in a way that doesn't divide and alienate people.  And frankly, I don't get much positive from that kind of conversation.  It's the same reason I try to write from my own perspective, rather than write long opinion pieces about why I think "breast is best" or co-sleeping is for everyone or whatever.  I'd rather just speak from my own truth, and hear that of others.  I care about politics, but I'm hoping for a different kind of dialogue here.  Something that seeks mutual understanding and opens minds, rather than the usual pissing contest. 

That being said, I'll just go ahead and make it plain for anyone who hasn't figured it out already. I'm pretty lefty when it comes to politics.  I have been jokingly and not jokingly called a communist at times (I lived in the USA for a while, and it's easy to get called communist there).  I believe we should share and try to get along and not take things that aren't ours and be kind and gentle and take care of those who need our help.  I believe it's OK to be you and me.  I teach that to my kids.  It seems pretty basic to me. 

So last night was pretty exciting for me.  And some amazing things happened.  Elizabeth May was elected, and she will be the first member of Parliament from the Green party, which has a strong environmental agenda.  The grassroots effort that made it happen locally was very inspiring.  This was the first election I remember that used social media so widely, and it was amazing to watch the strategic voting movement that could be built with our new abilities to communicate.  It felt wonderful to exchange reactions with friends on facebook at the same time as watching the election with my family. I felt part of a community of voters, and had access to information about my candidates in a myriad of forms.

Also, the Bloc Quebecois, a party which represents the interests of Quebecers who wish to make that province a sovereign nation, was all but defeated.  I didn't like that they have such a strong role in making decisions for a country they don't want to be part of.  I'm all for working it out for those Quebecers who want to be part of their own little nation, but I'm hoping that losing the Bloc in Parliament can free up some time and energy for other things.  And most exciting, the leftiest party we have leapt up hugely in size and stature when Bloc Quebecois voters switched to them, becoming a very healthy opposition.

Opposition to, unfortunately, a very righty party who got the majority.  And who will therefore be able to push their agenda forward for 5 solid years now.  So it was both exciting, and depressing.  Reminded me a bit of when George Bush got re-elected, except I wasn't so shocked this time.  I already saw how it could happen, how people's mistrust in government causes cynicism and apathy in those that we lefties need going to the polls. How lies and manipulation and posturing take over the discussion.  And I wasn't so sad either. Somehow, even though the prospect of 5 more years under Stephen Harper's Conservatives is grim to me, I am encouraged by the positive signs that people really do want a change.  It's just that the people are leading, and the leaders (and our electoral process) seem so very, very slow to follow.

It reminds me a bit of how my children, just before they are about to take a developmental leap forward, seem to regress.  Maybe it is their fear of change, and what it may bring, and a need to retreat into what is safe and known.  And after a little while, they realize that what is safe and known is not serving them, that it is inevitable that they will have to crawl, walk, talk, become more of themselves, inevitable they move onward now and open their world up to new possibilities, scary as it is. 

Maybe that is where our government is now, and for 5 years now there will be a back and forth, venture, retreat, venture, retreat.  And after that, the people and the leaders will see that it is inevitable.  This way of trying to make more money, get more stuff, use more of the earth--this every one for his or her self, punishment and revenge seeking (I'm trying to ignore the Osama death-celebration media spectacle, but, c'mon people...it's so ugly), competitive society has to change.  

I'm hopeful.  I'm hopeful that our government, as it stands now, will at least have to open up the conversation between left and right.  That maybe with the help of grassroots movements using social media, we can all start to have a dialogue that seeks to unite rather than divide, to find solutions rather than lay blame.  A dialogue that seeks and works from the truth, not the upper hand of power.  Something that opens minds, rather than the usual pissing contest.  Is that too much to hope for? 

One Sweet Mama

Last Mother's Day I honored my mother with a post.  This Mother's day I'd like to honor the woman who, next to my mother, has influenced my parenting the most:  my "mommy mentor", D.  I'm not sure how she'll feel about it--she's pretty humble and not the type of person that likes to be the center of attention.   And she's so much more to me than my mommy-mentor--she's a dear friend and a family member.  I've known her for about 17 years now, since the day I met her at a my cousin K's university graduation dinner, and heard her tell him that he was "talking out his ass."  He laughed and agreed with her, and I knew he'd found his match.

She knows all the ins and outs, dramas and personalities, histories and mysteries, in my extended family.  She was there long before I was a mum, through the "learning" period in my 20's. She and K picked me up at the airport when I flew home from my failed first marriage at 24 (long story), listened to my dating and relationship adventures for 10 years, and then supported me as I made the scary commitment to marriage again.  She's someone I can kick back and drink wine with, lay on the floor in pajamas nursing a baby with, call for anything serious to frivolous, cry and laugh with easily.  She is a rare friend, and I couldn't be more grateful for her.

D married my cousin K and they've made four kids, each one their beautiful own person.  Ten years ago, long before most of us cousins had kids, K and D were in the thick of parenting.   I've mentioned before, we're a tight bunch, and for a blessed while there were 3 or 4 of us plus partners living in Vancouver, and we got together all the time.  We always partied at K and D's place because they are great hosts and they had the kids.   I can only imagine how many times one of us said something completely ignorant about their parenting or their kids' behavior, because we had no clue what it was like to have a family.  I'm sure D can remember a few times.  But she has always been gracious about that.  She has a way of just saying where she's coming from as a parent, not pushing it on anyone but making no apologies either.

D and K were like no parents we had really seen before.  They slept with their kids, something none of our parents had done. They soothed them to sleep every night, and left the party to lay with them if they woke up.  D nursed her kids well past three years old, and she and K carried them in slings and wraps as babies.  She birthed 2 of her children at home, and all of them naturally, with midwives.  As their kids got older, they disciplined in a very different way.  There wasn't a "because I'm the boss and I said so" mentality, there was give and take.  K and D didn't believe in punishment.  Their kids were allowed to say their piece and have their emotions.  They had a whole set of ideas around parenting that was a little foreign to all of us cousins. 

D was three kids in by the time I had Boodge.  It wasn't until my brother's partner and I started "firing up our ovens" and D expressed what a relief it would be to have more parents in the family, that I really understood how much she had felt in the spotlight, and craved the understanding of another mommy in our crew.   But I'm so grateful that I had years to watch her parent before I had children.  She introduced me to new possibilities in parenting.  To a conscious sort of parenting that comes in line with who I really am, accepts all the family members for who they are, and isn't swayed by public opinion.  To unabashed caring for the little people in your love and charge.

She helped me get educated about all the tough decisions that come with pregnancy and parenting.  She showed me reputable sources of research so that I could come to my own conclusions.  She loaned me her books on vaccines and natural birthing and breastfeeding.  She talked about the issues surrounding mothers nursing and birthing rights. But more important was what she showed me just by being herself.  I saw her smiling and playing with her babies a she nursed them and I knew I wanted to nurse my babies and feel such a special bond.  Though I had never even considered sleeping with my child as a possibility, seeing D cuddled with her sleeping babes, whether in bed or sling, made me open to trying it (and three years in, so many blessed wake-ups to inhale my soft, smiling baby...I am so glad I've done it!). I watched her speak kindly to her "acting out" kids and I realized that just because a kid's behavior or emotion is inconvenient, doesn't mean it's invalid.  I saw her and K having fun with the kids, and I realized family life could be a good time.  And I saw her kids develop into independent, confident, compassionate, and very smart little beings with dynamic personalities. 

She took such joy and interest in my first pregnancy, even though she had already been through it three times of her own (and had three kids to think about). I inundated her with questions and concerns, and she was always willing to listen and sort things through with me.  D was the person I called when I was pregnant and the midwife didn't find the heartbeat the first two times she tried, or when I hadn't felt kicks for an uncomfortably long time.  She was my doulalabour-ade, wiping up my drools and pukes and, um, whatnot.  She put her hands up over her face and her heart stopped with ours when Boodge did not breathe at first, and the midwives seemed panicked.  Listened to me cry out my fears in my weepy post-partum days.  Reassured me the first time Boodge fell out of bed, or bonked his head too hard, or got sick.  This list can just go on and on, because D has been one of the first people I call at every heart-stopper, or joy, or milestone, or confusing "is this normal" or "what the hell do I do now?" moment of parenting.  Sharing parenting with her has made it much richer.  It has deepened our friendship, and becoming a mom myself has given me even more appreciation for the tremendous quiet wisdom, courage and generosity she has.

D with Boodge

And with Peanut. My babies love her!

I don't know how she does it.  She has always been so much more seasoned as a mom, but she still seems to be right there with me as I sort out all my rookie experiences.  You'd think she'd be so past all that, and way too busy for it, but she never gives off that sense.  Even when I am following a parenting path she doesn't follow, I don't feel judged by her.  She just helps me consider all the angles, and she knows when I come to a choice that it was the right one for me.

And she doesn't offer unsolicited advice (we all know now I don't like that), but when I ask for it (often), she gives good stuff.   She is able to offer the bigger picture as only one who's been there can.  Like, "it's teeth", or "he's still so little, consistent sleep is not a realistic expectation", or "she's a girl, so maybe that's why she eats less".  And most importantly, "This will pass, and it will get easier."  When she listens, she hears not only what I am saying, but to what my child may be saying through their behavior too, and she tells me both.  If she sees that I need to step up for my kid, she lets me know, and if she sees that I need to do something for myself, she'll tell me that too.  I appreciate that balanced view, since I too am always concerned about both my child and myself in most decisions. 

When I went back to work part-time, the first time I had to leave Boodge with someone other than his father, she was there to take him.  I completely trusted her to care for him as I would, and was so relieved that it was her he would be with.  Still, I was so nervous about leaving that precious piece of myself for so long!  I had to stomp down thoughts of possible car accidents for me or injuries for him.  Me not being there if he needed me.  As I left her house I started to cry and she didn't say, "Oh, don't worry, he'll be fine!" or "Trust me, I have three small kids!"  She just hugged me, looked me in my watery eyes, and said, "I know." That's where she comes from.  Her heart.

I'm not trying to deify her here, she is not perfect. She has four kids, and a life that doesn't follow the mainstream.  Things can get crazy.  Yelling happens, tears happen,  periods of worry and stress happen. That's another thing I've gained from watching her parent--I know it's not just at my house.  D is real.  She doesn't try to give the impression that having a family is not messy.  She's shown me the ideals we can reach for in parenting, but also the reality that you  shouldn't expect to actually reach them, just practice.

She does a strong practice, every day.  She questions herself and she learns.  She takes parenting very seriously, yet she let's things roll and laughs often.  By default, she is gentle, kind, patient, and respectful, so she comes from a solid base.  Though now that I know her better I have seen her get unsure, get angry, or get quietly sad and have to take space for herself, for the most part she appears to keep an amazingly even keel for someone with so much to take care of.  Her family is so lucky to have her. And I am so lucky she came into my family (well done, K!).  I admire her so much.  I am sure I would not be the mother I am without her mentor-ship and inspiration, her support and perspective.

In this last year and a half, I feel even more blessed that we've had the chance to share simultaneous pregnancies and the joyous births of our two baby girls, six weeks apart.  As usual, D. was one of the first people I called in my euphoria after Peanut was born, and she shouted excitedly into the phone, "We got our girls!"  I love seeing our two little babes together, just learning to grasp and move, looking at each other in surprised curiosity at the recognition of someone like them.

It is my dear hope that they can grow in life together the way D and I have, their friendship filling fuller and fuller as they move through the stages of childhood and adulthood, womanhood and motherhood, together.

Thank you D.  I love you, sweet Mama.

Who has inspired you as a mother, or taught you so many things that you are grateful for?  In honor of our Mothers, I'd love if you'd take a minute to post a little something about a mommy-mentor in your life.  Maybe your own Mom.  If you post it on facebook, I'll add it to the blog comments later. Or, if you don't feel like doing that, send a little thank you to a Mama that has helped you along.  

Happy Mother's Day everyone.