Coffee With a Side of Reality

Since moving to Texas I've been lucky to make a few new friends.  Some have been through my sister, some have been on my own.  I'm pretty proud of myself to be able to make new friends at this age, because sometimes, it's not easy.

One of my new friends is the mother of a classmate of Claire.  In addition to her Claire-age child, she also has a son who is just one month and a handful of days younger than Zora.  She's super nice and very intelligent.  It's always nice to chat with her when we drop off the kids at school, so I was obliged to accept when she invited me to coffee.

We met at Starbucks and found a nice set of comfy chairs situated around a low table for the babies to walk around/destroy.

Sidebar:
Dear patrons of Starbucks,
This is a coffee shop, not a library.  My child does not have to be quiet.  If you want quiet go buy some hipster giant headphones and put some anti-establishment stickers on them.  But, also realize that you can't get more establishment than Starbucks.  You are not ironic in the punk rock kind of way.  Get over yourself.  Thanks.

My friend and I landed on the predictable topic of child development.  It was all me, as it usually is.  I just feel this compulsion to talk about how everyone's kid is doing.  Not because I want to take anything away from anyone as far as kudos go, but because I need reassurance that my children are doing okay.  Even though I have two children, I consider myself a first-time mom because Claire isn't old enough to have taught us what we need to know to raise Zora without a few questions.  We're learning as we go here people.

So, anyway, my friend did her masters work in the area of child development(I know it was actually called something else, but I can't remember now).  She has many friends who are in the field.  A lot of these women work in the field because they have children with special needs.  I was fascinated by what she was saying because now I have a virtual expert in my presence.  What she said though, stopped me in my tracks and shifted my focus.

She said that for her to share her children's milestones, like walking and talking, was unfair to many of her friends.  While they would of course be happy and proud for her and share in her excitement, some of them would never have those milestones.  Their child might never speak a single word, let alone "mommy" or "I love you."  They might never get to have that hug that comes at the end of the run down the hallway.  That's not to devalue what they will experience, but it puts life in perspective, at least for me.

It's another one of those moments we are given from time to time that bring you back to reality.  I say "given" because I think these moments and the people that share them with you are a gift.  A gift sent to remind you that even the smallest thing is important when it comes to raising kids.  The smiles and giggles, the hugs and kisses, the moments.  Those are what matter.  The ABCs and 123s?  They have their place and I couldn't be prouder of Claire and Zora when they learn something new.

There's a middle ground, though, right?  There's something between enjoying every second and not caring and obsessing over achievement?  I'm working to find that balance.  I suppose it depends on how you measure success.  Today success for us equals a baby who took two steps in a row and a big girl who decided it's "unda-weaws" from now on...good luck to her teachers today...tomorrow success might be a new food sampled or a new song learned.  I like this success.

    

2012: The slightly more attractive older sibling of 2011

As the holidays come to their close, I wanted to reflect on this past year of my life.  Don't worry, I'll have a fresh rant for my next entry (fresh like I haven't ranted about it before, not like Fresh Prince fresh).

So many things have happened to my little family.  For one thing, my little family got just a little bit bigger with the additional of Miss Baby, Zora Robin.  She's been a joy and a challenge...a very hungry, loud, joyous challenge.  Claire has become quite the tiny lady with words and attitude and a great sense of humor.  Rob and I have just gotten more haggard and more boring.  I'd like to say I'm joking, but sadly I'm not.  Having two children under 2 is tough and honestly, we weren't that exciting before.  (If we seemed that way, you may have just been drunk.)  In fact, as I attempt to write this my husband is pacing the floor trying to soothe Miss B and also trying to educate me (against my will) about the college football bowl games.  Every two minutes or so he pops around the corner and says, "Hey honey, blah blah blah blah."  Replace the "blah"s with whatever happens in college football, I care not. 

So, anyway, back to our year in review.  I started writing this blog to chronicle raising these babies without the help of TV or meds.  Sadly, it seems I need to change the subtitle of my blog because both have crept into the equation.  Not only are we watching a touch of the tube from time to time to soothe the savage toddler, but I have thrown in the towel.  The towel on trying to fight this PPD fight on my own.  I called my doctor, cried like a fool on the phone and was promptly prescribed some happy pills (Zoloft).  So far they just make me feel loopy so I'm hesitant to say that this is better.  Since I've basically been pregnant or breastfeeding for the past three years, loopy is something I rarely experience.  Unless you count extreme exhaustion, which is not the same thing. 

I truly wish that I could say that we have completely cut TV out of our lives, that Claire is reading in several languages now because of cutting TV out and that I am well-rested, pleased all of the time and ready to rock my bikini in May.  None of these things are true, though.  That being said, I have a distinct feeling of Oh-Well.  It's an interesting feeling that I don't think I have felt much in my years of attempted over achievement and attempted perfection.

I can say that in the year 2011 I discovered that I am doing a pretty good job at this whole parenting thing.  This wasn't a result of my mom's constant cheering or my husband's reassurances.  It was a result of being honest with myself in a very public forum.  Writing this blog and the responses that I have received have been so incredibly comforting. 

I very much live vicariously through Facebook, as I have mentioned previously.  I don't care, judge me for it.  It's the most popular app on my phone.  It seemed to me from this little window to the outside world that everyone's child was bilingual, well-behaved and walking by 8 months.  My child, on the other hand, speaks only English with a good bit of Clairish(which I guess makes her bilingual), is rotten (but cute) and didn't walk until she was nearly 11 months old. (You will note no reference to Miss B here because she has yet to become rotten or walk or talk, for that matter, because she is too busy being hungry and complainy.)  I used this window to put ridiculous expectations on myself and my children.  I resented people and children that I hardly knew based on representations posted in the form of pictures and status updates.  I have to hand it to some of you.  You painted a lovely picture and I was green with envy.  It seems so silly now, in hind sight.  I would call my sister and recount to her what everyone else's child was doing and was Claire okay because she was not yet doing the same.  If you're doing this to yourself, stop.  It will surely drive you crazy.  I will mark myself as Exhibit A here.

I am gladly bidding adieu to 2011 and welcoming 2012.  My mom says even-numbered years are always better anyway.  My hope for myself is that I can look back on 2011 as the year that we completed our family, I lost my mind, and shortly thereafter found it.

I feel like TV has become that sneaky bastard buzzy fly that always finds its way into your bedroom at night and drives you crazy but you just can't catch it. Television in our house is very much in the background.  It doesn't control our lives, it's hardly an afterthought on some days but at times, I just want to squish it.  Tonight is one of those times as I retreat to the upper regions of our home to escape the noises of the game or NFL Network or whatever other program is on where the announcers are making up words left and right.  P.S. Stick-to-it-ed-ness is not and never will be a word.  Here's to hoping 2012 is filled with wonderful things and not the apocalypse.