Last week, my 5 1/2 year old son, D, lost his first tooth. It had been loose for about 6 months, and he would often talk about how excited he was.
The night before he lost it, the tooth (one of his top front teeth) was extremely wiggly, and started to bleed during dinner. The blood frightened him very much. He sat on my lap, hysterically crying. "Mama," he cried, "I don't want to lose my tooth. I'm scared." My husband and I tried to talk him through it, how everyone loses their teeth, that it's a natural rite of passage. Luckily, it came out the next day, with no more blood to show for it.
I remember having that exact same feeling D was experiencing, when I was about six months pregnant with him. Being that it was my first pregnancy, my husband and I took one of those classes at the hospital where they teach labor methods, breathing techniques, and show videos of both vaginal and c-section births. After the class with the videos, I was frightened. Of course, I had KNOWN where babies come from, and KNEW where my son would make his exit....but seeing it on video was very scary. I remember thinking that I was in a position where I was at the point of no return...I was pregnant, and I was going to deliver this baby, by one method or another. No going back.
Of course, we are ALL in this predicament...the point of no return. It's called life. Just the mere fact that we are alive means that we are aging every day....every day brings us one step closer to toddlerhood, adolescence, to adulthood, to middle age, to being a senior citizen and beyond. At some point, if we live long enough, we all get gray hair, wrinkles, and an increase of health-related issues. It's part of life. The only way not to progress is not to be on this crazy ride called life. It is scary. Just as my son was scared to lose his first tooth, I am nervous about turning forty (FORTY!!) in a few weeks. I am not afraid of the number; I don't look forty, and God only knows I don't ACT middle-aged. It's more of the idea of being past that point of no return...I will no longer be in my 30s, which definitely sounds younger.
Luckily, we all go through this process. My parents did, and still are; their parents did, and their parents did. Just as my son and daughter are, and their future children will as well. Many of the choices we make (diet, exercise, relationships, etc) can positively or negatively impact the aging process, but at the end, we all end up at the same place.
February 15, 2010
February 10, 2010
The Toughest Job
This parenting stuff is hard.
Don't get me wrong. I love it. I am thrilled to be a mom, and am truly content being a stay-at-home one at that. But it's hard work. I know it's meant to be hard, and that there are many approaches to parenting. I know that there is no one "right" way to parent, although there are a few "wrong" ways (being physically, emotionally, or sexually abusive, as well as neglectful, come to mind). Heck, if there were one right way to parent, there would be one book in the bookstore called "This Is The Parenting Book You're Looking For", instead of THOUSANDS of titles offering different perspectives and approaches.
I doubt myself a lot. My son, D, who is in kindergarten and almost 6, challenges me almost daily. He is a GREAT kid; for those of my readers who know us personally, I know you'd agree. He's a sweet boy, brilliant, kind, curious and the biggest cuddle I know. He truly is a GOOD kid. But boy, does he challenge me! He is a bit immature for his age, and because of that, can get squirrelly (you know how 5 year old boys can be!) He gets the wiggles in school, and can challenge authority by not listening to directions, both at home and at school. It's only February of his kindergarten year and already he's been sent to the principal's office 3 times (for nothing terrible, but still!) I managed to get through 13 years of public school and never once met the principal!
I have taken him 3 times to a psychologist to get evaluated for ADHD; his impulse control has me worried sometimes. Every visit the psychologist told me I had nothing to worry about; he does NOT have ADHD, and he is just a typical, albeit slightly immature, boy. Every teacher, friend, etc who has met him confirm that. Yet I still worry. If he's challenging authority now, how will he be in 10 years? 20 years?
To add to my concern, I myself tend to be an inconsistent parent. I am the type of mom to give many "chances" before I follow through. I have recently changed this, however, and am MUCH more consistent than I used to be. For example, D had a terrible week in school right before Halloween, and I took away trick-or-treating. And I really did! He stayed home that night. That was a turning point for me, proving to myself (and to D) that I can be a consistent parent.
I was raised on Eastern European parenting, and tend to fall back on that in my own approach. Additionally, I tend to react fast (too fast), going from 0 to 60 in no time at all. I need to learn to slow down with my parenting, not to react as fast, to take my time with doling out consequences and rewards. I know this will help with my quest to be a more consistent mom.
I have a fear that I'm not doing it right...that I'm being too harsh...or too lenient. That whatever mistakes I make with him now will come back to bite us both in the ass in years to come. That in 20 years he'll be sitting on a shrink's couch telling her that his issues stemmed from not being able to go trick-or-treating in 2009. Or worse.
God, this parenting stuff is tough.
Don't get me wrong. I love it. I am thrilled to be a mom, and am truly content being a stay-at-home one at that. But it's hard work. I know it's meant to be hard, and that there are many approaches to parenting. I know that there is no one "right" way to parent, although there are a few "wrong" ways (being physically, emotionally, or sexually abusive, as well as neglectful, come to mind). Heck, if there were one right way to parent, there would be one book in the bookstore called "This Is The Parenting Book You're Looking For", instead of THOUSANDS of titles offering different perspectives and approaches.
I doubt myself a lot. My son, D, who is in kindergarten and almost 6, challenges me almost daily. He is a GREAT kid; for those of my readers who know us personally, I know you'd agree. He's a sweet boy, brilliant, kind, curious and the biggest cuddle I know. He truly is a GOOD kid. But boy, does he challenge me! He is a bit immature for his age, and because of that, can get squirrelly (you know how 5 year old boys can be!) He gets the wiggles in school, and can challenge authority by not listening to directions, both at home and at school. It's only February of his kindergarten year and already he's been sent to the principal's office 3 times (for nothing terrible, but still!) I managed to get through 13 years of public school and never once met the principal!
I have taken him 3 times to a psychologist to get evaluated for ADHD; his impulse control has me worried sometimes. Every visit the psychologist told me I had nothing to worry about; he does NOT have ADHD, and he is just a typical, albeit slightly immature, boy. Every teacher, friend, etc who has met him confirm that. Yet I still worry. If he's challenging authority now, how will he be in 10 years? 20 years?
To add to my concern, I myself tend to be an inconsistent parent. I am the type of mom to give many "chances" before I follow through. I have recently changed this, however, and am MUCH more consistent than I used to be. For example, D had a terrible week in school right before Halloween, and I took away trick-or-treating. And I really did! He stayed home that night. That was a turning point for me, proving to myself (and to D) that I can be a consistent parent.
I was raised on Eastern European parenting, and tend to fall back on that in my own approach. Additionally, I tend to react fast (too fast), going from 0 to 60 in no time at all. I need to learn to slow down with my parenting, not to react as fast, to take my time with doling out consequences and rewards. I know this will help with my quest to be a more consistent mom.
I have a fear that I'm not doing it right...that I'm being too harsh...or too lenient. That whatever mistakes I make with him now will come back to bite us both in the ass in years to come. That in 20 years he'll be sitting on a shrink's couch telling her that his issues stemmed from not being able to go trick-or-treating in 2009. Or worse.
God, this parenting stuff is tough.
February 4, 2010
A Chef in the Making
I love to cook.
That statement, while seemingly innocuous, is huge for me. I spent 37 of my first 40 years actively not cooking. I hated it. I remember when I was little, my mother would sometimes ask me to help her make dinner. I would opt to make the salad! I never really learned how to cook anything at the hands of my mother (which I now regret) and went to college not knowing how.
I have no idea what I ate in college and beyond. I must have blocked those memories out. Lots of take-out, frozen dinners, sandwiches, and ramen noodles, I suppose. Even when I met J, I never cooked. He jokes that the one meal I made for him when we were dating was a tuna melt (simply made by putting tuna and cheese on bread and sticking it in my sandwich maker)...although that really wasn't a joke. I never cooked for him.
Not that I COULDN'T cook, mind you. I was able to follow a recipe, and certainly made some things over the years when needed: food for a Passover seder, a meal to bring to a friend's house for dinner, dessert for a party. I COULD cook, I just hated it. I found it boring, pointless, and a waste of time.
After we had our first child, D, I still never really cooked. J would come home from work and cook dinner for us. Once in a while I would make a Boboli pizza, and think I was Julia Child. It wasn't until after our second child, A, was born, that I developed an interest in cooking.
When A was born, and in the NICU for 12 weeks (and then hospitalized for another month after that) my dear friends brought my family dinner about 4 times a week. It was amazing, and I felt so cared for and loved. Most of the meals were homemade by my friends, which stunned me: my friends COOKED? What? Was I the only non-cooker in the bunch?
After A was stabilized, I decided to try a recipe. It was winter 2007, just about 3 years ago exactly. I clearly remember my first recipe I tried on my cooking renaissance: jumbalaya. It was so fun to chop all the vegetables, measure my ingredients, and prepare a tasty meal. I was hooked, and haven't stopped since.
Why do I like cooking?
My main audience is my husband. He is who I cook for. On days when he's not home for dinner, you can be sure I'm making something low-key such as spaghetti. I love to see his reaction when we eat dinner; it feels good to have him enjoy what I make.
I welcome all vegetarian recipes, and would love to hear from any of my readers!
That statement, while seemingly innocuous, is huge for me. I spent 37 of my first 40 years actively not cooking. I hated it. I remember when I was little, my mother would sometimes ask me to help her make dinner. I would opt to make the salad! I never really learned how to cook anything at the hands of my mother (which I now regret) and went to college not knowing how.
I have no idea what I ate in college and beyond. I must have blocked those memories out. Lots of take-out, frozen dinners, sandwiches, and ramen noodles, I suppose. Even when I met J, I never cooked. He jokes that the one meal I made for him when we were dating was a tuna melt (simply made by putting tuna and cheese on bread and sticking it in my sandwich maker)...although that really wasn't a joke. I never cooked for him.
Not that I COULDN'T cook, mind you. I was able to follow a recipe, and certainly made some things over the years when needed: food for a Passover seder, a meal to bring to a friend's house for dinner, dessert for a party. I COULD cook, I just hated it. I found it boring, pointless, and a waste of time.
After we had our first child, D, I still never really cooked. J would come home from work and cook dinner for us. Once in a while I would make a Boboli pizza, and think I was Julia Child. It wasn't until after our second child, A, was born, that I developed an interest in cooking.
When A was born, and in the NICU for 12 weeks (and then hospitalized for another month after that) my dear friends brought my family dinner about 4 times a week. It was amazing, and I felt so cared for and loved. Most of the meals were homemade by my friends, which stunned me: my friends COOKED? What? Was I the only non-cooker in the bunch?
After A was stabilized, I decided to try a recipe. It was winter 2007, just about 3 years ago exactly. I clearly remember my first recipe I tried on my cooking renaissance: jumbalaya. It was so fun to chop all the vegetables, measure my ingredients, and prepare a tasty meal. I was hooked, and haven't stopped since.
Why do I like cooking?
- It challenges my brain. Since becoming a full-time stay-at home mom, sometimes I feel like my mind has become mush. Managing cooking times, trying different recipes, etc makes me feel like I'm actually using my brain!
- It gives me a creative outlet.
- I like knowing what is IN my food, and take comfort knowing that everything I eat is 100% vegetarian.
- It give me "alone" time without being alone. I usually cook while the kids watch tv or play in the next room (which is attached to the kitchen). I can watch them, and still be by myself. Better yet, sometimes I put on my iPod and cook to my favorite tunes.
My main audience is my husband. He is who I cook for. On days when he's not home for dinner, you can be sure I'm making something low-key such as spaghetti. I love to see his reaction when we eat dinner; it feels good to have him enjoy what I make.
I welcome all vegetarian recipes, and would love to hear from any of my readers!
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