Riled Up

As I was taking some time for myself this morning, checking in on some of my favorite blogs, I found that my dear friend and fellow Über Thoughtful Mama had written a delightfully helpful and super right-on post about kids’ books, specifically books that capture the strength, intelligence and ingenuity of girls. Okay, maybe it as more about how this world seriously lacks good stories told from female perspectives. (Yes, it's an old story that unfortunately still rings true.) But in typical fashion, my pal vented appropriately and then got her hands dirty, providing an insightful and productive critique and - and this is the part I love - a direction forward. Don't you love that? Yes, indeedy. Rather than essentially repeat exactly what she wrote – since she nailed it dead-on – I urge y’all to hop over to her fabulous site and read for yourself.

Needless to say, I revel in this kind of banter. Yup, I’m riled up and ready for a good hunt. My brilliant friend included a list of books she’s found recently that give strong girls a voice; it’s a fabulous list. And it’s motivated me to A) run to my library this afternoon to check these out for my book-hungry Stella, B) do some more serious research on my own to find more books like these and C) pick through our growing catalogue of rockin’ girls books and share what we’ve found. The funny thing is that I can actually think of a ton of empowering and engaging stories about girls and young women for when Stella is a bit older, but it’s not so easy during this toddler stage. So I’m truly thankful for my friend’s list and am adding to it with yet another list of fabulous books that specifically focus on how and why girls are rad and, as my friend eloquently articulated, simply showcase a story from a girl’s perspective.

We love these Stella books. They totally remind me of old Peanuts cartoons but are told from a girl’s perspective. Stella and her little brother Sam are not only sweet, clever and ridiculously creative, they’re always hanging out in the woods and exploring nature. My sister-in-law gave three of these to us for Stella’s first birthday, and we LOVE them.

I am usually a bit wary of celebrity-driven books. Honestly, I dig Madonna on the dance floor but her children’s books are a bit lacking for my taste. That said, I love this book. Jamie Lee Curtis captures the quirkiness of kids and why they should, in fact, feel good about themselves at ALL times. And she splits the book between a girl and a boy with total fairness.

The Papa and I love this book because the child could be either a girl or boy. And it’s just so sweet. It’s a quiet story about learning to be comfortable with nature, and I love that the child is spending time outside, at night, with her or his Papa. It’s really lovely.

This one is super popular, and we love it. Sure, it delves into how petty and cruel girls can be, but it also shows how being unique trumps conformity. I can tell Stella doesn’t really get all of that yet, but I figure it can’t hurt to start a bit early, right.

Stella and I really love this book. It’s a Native American tale that focuses on how a little girl in her tribe basically saves her community from ruin by communicating with and listening to the spirits of nature. She not only embarks on an exciting adventure, but she single-handedly heals deep wounds with her compassion and intelligence.

Now That I'm a Mom I Can...

...Put a child’s hair in a ponytail while walking around the entire house and setting up a play date on the phone.

...Allow myself to feel compassionate toward everyone… even the putz who flicks me the bird because I drive the speed limit.

...Temper my judgments of others. As long as you’re not hitting or hurting anyone, I give ya a wide berth.

...Embrace the supposed imperfections of my body with a different attitude. If this body can carry and birth a beautiful child, this body can do anything.

...Deliver an Oscar-worthy performance of attentive happiness and domestic bliss on those days when I really feel like my life is stuck on an endless cycle of laundry, dishes, laundry, dishes, laundry, dishes...

...Fix three dinners for the same child in one night, all within the course of fifteen minutes.

...Ignore the mess and chaos of my house. Laundry can wait. Dishes can wait. Sharing tea with Stella, a toy elephant and a naked baby doll can't.

...Understand that there are always many sides to one story and that everyone, including those psycho parents I see screaming at their kids for no good reason at all, is simply doing their best.

...Gaze for hours on end at another human being, our gorgeous girl.

...Cut to the chase and communicate more honestly. There ain’t a whole lot of time for bull anymore. And hallelujah for that.

...Talk about bodies with total candor. The moment I realized I was walking around the birth center buck naked and didn’t care one hugely pregnant bit, I realized that a shell is just that, a shell. And a body is really just a body.

...Pee on the toilet while reading a story to a toddler curled up on my lap.

...Keep a straight face when my one year old moves from topic to topic, mentioning in one breath how “La la mountain big hike Grandpa” and then gracefully and seamlessly sliding into the next breath where Papa has a “penis” and is “naked” in the “bathtub.”

...Discuss the most serious of topics – marital strife, world politics, war, depression – while chasing a toddler through a maze of slides, climbing walls and swings.

...Absolutely and fairly justify not hanging out with friends who don’t make me or my family feel good. (See no bull comment above.)

Oh, I’m afraid this list would be endless if I continue. As I type, I recognize that much of these new abilities are really just skills I used to carry latently but have now honed. Of course, I’m incredibly aware that you don’t have to be a parent to experience or master the things on this list. (Well, maybe the in-motion ponytail and the three dinners in fifteen minutes…. Who knows?) Being a mama or papa isn’t the only experience in life that necessitates or prompts growth. But it sure is a biggie. And it’s the ride I’m on at the moment, so recording all this affords me a well-deserved chuckle.

I’m eager to hear from others about the humorous and maybe not-so-humorous things that you can do or feel or understand now that you’re a parent or now that you’ve shifted gears or, simply, now that you’ve opened your eyes or heart in a new fashion. A co-worker once told me that before having a child, he felt like he was living in a two dimensional world. Having a son catapulted him into a three (and sometimes four) dimensional mode seeing the world. And as I skim this list, I marvel at the gifts these small but momentous shifts allow and how the shift from two to three dimensional thinking is simply a slow and gentle widening of my heart.

A Genuine Bunny

My sister is amazing.

She's not flashy and she ain't got bling. But she's one of the most gentle, genuine hearts I've ever encountered in my life.

And yes, she strikes a mean Easter Bunny pose.

There are so many things I could say about my sister - like how she doesn't have a mean bone in her body or how she's genuine and authentic at all times or how she possesses the patience and gentle demeanor of a Nepali monk.

But right now, as I'm steeped in (fairly) new motherhood, attempting to define myself (and redefine and redefine and redefine...) within that constantly evolving role, I must say she's by far one of the most gifted and loving mamas I know.

Sure, she's my sister. I have to say that, right? Actually, no. I don't. Not everyone we love or know is great at what they do. I know plenty of folks who frankly should have thought twice about taking that job or having a kid. That's harsh but true. But that doesn't apply to my sister.

Like everything she's pursued, her choice to be a mother, and a stellar one at that, has been both thoughtful and deliberate.

I know she's had tough days with her two beautiful teenage daughters, and I know it's been ages since she dealt with the ins and outs of toddlers. But I've been studying, you see. And I've seen my sister evolve from an exuberant and gentle mama of crawlers to an engaging mama of tree climbers to a loving and firm mama of teenagers. And she does it all with a gentle calm that is often so foreign to me that I must summon her awesome mama aura in order to help remind me of how to be the mama I want to be.

And the proof is often in the pudding, right? My sister's daughters are two of the most grounded and confident girls I know. They're navigating the often wonky seas of adolescence with such finesse and poise that I can't help but want to shout my sister's name from the rooftops (and take some serious notes, right?).

Oh, and she's done all this while also pursuing her own education and career as an educator. She flat out amazes me.

At this point, I can actually feel my sister's blush from hundreds of miles away. And I can hear her balking at the idea of taking credit for just being present and conscious in the presence of two wonderful girls. Because, of course, she's humble to boot. And I can't mention her grand and impressive talent as a mama without acknowledging that she had the foresight and wherewithal to pick a partner in life who is not only a stunning father but who supports and encourages her in her dreams.

So I'll stop. Okay? I'll stop. But I had to gush. She's my big sister, after all, and I couldn't imagine my life - as both a woman and now as a mama - without her loving and wise guidance.

And if she wears that bunny suit for the rest of our Easters, I will die a happy woman. Yes, I will.

Branded

Stella wakes with one word – Mama. In the morning, as she wakes from her nap and as she struggles in the middle of the night to find the light switch or snuggle more closely with her beloved cuddle, she mutters Mama. She saws it tenderly. She says it lovingly. She says it frantically. She says it longingly. She says it repeatedly. Mama. Mama. Mama.

I can’t say that I mind. Sure, there are moments when Stella’s clinginess proves to be challenging to say the least, and her occasional 3am pleas for Mama fail to rouse me with, um, joy. But mostly, when I hear that word upon her waking, whether it’s drizzly and soggy outside or crisp and bright, I feel my heart swell.

Of course, I never flinch when she asks for the Papa. If truth be told, I’m warmed and bewitched and tickled by Stella’s love for her Papa. Watching the two of them is, well, better than freshly baked bread and butter. It’s delicious and fabulous and, yes, sexy.

Stella has woken a handful of times asking for others, once for my mother and once for the Papa’s mother. And it’s honestly thrown me off kilter completely. I absolutely want to foster a strong and meaningful bond between Stella and her grandmothers. It’s a bond I never really fulfilled in my own life, so I enjoy watching her delight in that special connection, for sure.

But if I’m totally honest, the primal mama bear in me felt downright slighted on these two occasions. I, of course, hid it well, smiling and laughing as I fetched her with fresh stories of each of her wonderful grandmas. But what am I, Stella? Chopped Mama? I suppose this silliness on my part stems from the often raw and repressed feeling of servitude mamas experience when working tirelessly to create loving, engaging and safe environments for their children without fanfare or fuss. But that’s sort of immature, right? Because I know that Stella appreciates that I’m the one workin’ with her day in and day out. I’m her safety net and her comfort in all moments of panic or fear, and I’m usually the first person she looks to when she’s totally jazzed or excited. And I actually want her to feel connected and bonded to her amazing community of family and friends. So I can dismiss that part of the equation quickly. No need to announce my entitlement with this kid; the rewards and joys are clear. But I must admit that it’s more difficult to quell my feelings of pure mama bear possessiveness. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I found myself silently screaming, “She’s mine! She’s mine! Seriously, she’s mine!” when she uttered names other than my own.

Oh, how selfish and senseless. But oh, how truly real and powerful.

Because naturally, I feel branded by Stella’s calls for me. And it hasn’t been a gentle searing of tender care. Rather, it’s been a violent branding of my heart, the kind that rips me open and leaves me vulnerable and raw. But I honestly can’t imagine life without this branding. At times I feel a bit thrashed by the enormity of this kind of love – this branding – because, after all, being somebody's mama is undoubtedly the most important and massive responsibility I'll ever hold. But I also feel like its thrust me into a better, bigger and more open version of myself. So this branding – this love, this strength, this compassion, this patience – is a gift Stella bestows upon me with every sweet and sassy summoning.

Tiny Boots: Thoughts As I Return Home from the Store

The path to our humble home.

I've always hated these plants. In fact, I hate this pathway. Maybe this will be the year I dig everything up. Man, the lawn looks terrible. Ugh.

Add it to the list.

Lord. Have these steps always been this shabby? Is it embarrassing that we still haven't sanded and refinished that darn front door after eight years? Do people notice these things? Do our neighbors hate us?

This is when a minor panic sets in to my well-intentioned but slightly neurotic heart. The To Do list grows exponentially by the minute and I just don't know where we'll find the time, the money and the energy to do everything we want. It's all so overwhelming. It's all so daunting. It's all so never ending.

Oh.

Tiny boots.

The rest of that stuff is so stupid.