Pretty In Pink

This is my son's 3rd birthday gift. He picked it out, test "drove" it and made the decision this was the one he wanted...well as much as a 3 year old can.

As I was placing the order today, I had a thought. This wasn’t the one he originally wanted. When we walked into the store…he went straight for the pink one with purple streamers on the handle bars. Without giving it much thought, I steered him towards the boy bikes and we moved on.  This isn't the first time this has come up.  He always wants to eat off the pink plate (and I oblige) and if you ask him his favorite color, it's always enthusiastically pink.  It doesn't really surprise me, nor bother me.  A lot of his friends are girls and his cousin (who he worships) is a girl and they aways want "the pink one" so it makes sense that he does too!

It got me thinking. If my daughter had picked out "a boy" bike, would I have done the same for her, steered her towards the more girlie bikes? I'm not sure, come to think of it. Personally, I would want her to have the pink one, because that's what I would want, but I probably wouldn’t put up too much stink if she rode away on the Harley Davidson camouflage version.

I always thought I'd be the type of parent that let my kids express their individuality anyway they wanted...but, just like that, in an instant, I wasn't.  And, I have a feeling I'm not alone.  Would you have let your son get the pink bike?  Did I make a major parenting blunder? 

What A Day

I've said it before...I have a bad habit of wishing my kids were older than they are.  I know I am going to read this after sending one of them to college and curse myself, wishing for just one more night.  Trust me, since I over analyze everything, I understand that I should be enjoying each and every moment, and I do.  It's just that the older M.D.B. gets, the more fun it is!

We had such a great day today.  He came with me to take the pup for her haircut and we hung out at Petco to see the turtles (WAY cheaper than the aquarium and free parking to boot).  We went to Comcast to exhange a broken cable box.  I had a moment of panic when I saw the LONG line...but I walked out bursting with pride since my little boy proceeded to use the time to entertain the rest of the people waiting in line.  Then, while AB and I took Lulu to her music class, my not-so-little-boy hung in the big kids room with Miss. Lauren, who I'm pretty sure is his first crush!  Topped off with a fight-free nap and a pizza dinner...we just had a perfect day! 

So yeah, the day was nothing special or out of the ordinary, but I think that's what made it so great. It was just errands, but I can remember -- not too long ago -- that the thought of bringing kids on errands would make me cringe.  But, today was just fun.  I loved chatting with him in the car (like, an actual two way conversation), watching him take in new things, seeing him interact with other people and feeling him grab for my hand as we neared the parking lot, just as I have instructed him to since he could take his first steps.

So, there really is part of me that wants my baby girl to stay a baby forever, but I also long for the future.  I can't wait to hear what her voice is going to sound like, when she says "mommy."  I long for the days of getting her pigtails just right (if she EVER gets hair, that is!!) and watching her watch turtles swimming in a tank in awe.

But, I know they are going to wake up tomorrow one day older.  Closer to the days of me not being allowed to talk because I'm embarrassing and having to pry them out of bed in the morning for school.  I guess since I know how much fun the future will bring...I will be patient and make it my priority to be present in the moment and just cherish it all!

Home Alone

I was home alone for exactly 51 hours and 11 minutes over the weekend when AB took the kids to his parents.  When I say home alone...I mean, no other living things in the house.  No dog, no kids and no husband.  No one else to take care of, but me!  The house was eerily quiet...I heard phantom baby cries and dog barks and it took me a few hours (and a glass of wine) to relax, unwind and truly understand that I didn't have to cram all the things I wanted to accomplish over the weekend in during a 2-hour nap window. 

I watched at least 10 hours of TV that I have been saving on the DVR, cleaned every nook and cranny of the house and did projects that have been on hold since the day M.D.B. was born.  I purged broken crayons and toys and made enough pureed veggies to last months.  I did a puzzle (yep, a grown up one) and studied for the HR exam I'm taking in May.  I lunched and Costcoed with a friend and went to girls dinner, without leaving the house sans my purse or half a blow dry.  I rolled over and went back to sleep when the clock read 7 a.m. and sang in the shower to my heart's desire.  The toys stayed put away and the kitchen stayed clean. 

At some point on Sunday, I said to myself, could I get used to this?  The answer was no.  I missed the chaos and the sounds of little footsteps.  I was cold in bed, without the hubby and pup.  I missed being needed.  I missed their little smells and sounds and going to bed at night knowing they are tucked warm in their beds.  I longed for hugs and kisses, for boo-boos to kiss.

So, yeah, a weekend to get stuff done and some peace and quiet was great.  But, there will be plenty of time for that later in life.  I woke up in such a good mood this morning because I realized my life -- with all its craziness -- is exactly as it should be and the way I want it!

Ode to the Working Mom

So, I missed my daughter's first birthday.  There, I said it.  It was last week, but I felt like I couldn't write about it yet, because I couldn't really wrap my arms around the idea of it.  I just wanted the day to end, for the calendar to read February 10, so it would just be over and I could stop beating myself up about it. 

I haven't had a business trip in almost two years...but I had one...last week. I was so excited to be included in this particular meeting...but attending would keep me away from Lulu on her birthday. Yes, I probably could have said no to the trip, but to be honest, I didn't want to. I wanted to go, to be included, to focus on my career. Oh, the guilt.

I had a very hard time when M.D.B. was born and I went back to work.  People would say, "wouldn't you rather be at home" and "don't you wish you could be a stay-at-home-mom."  I would say yes, but the truth was, I didn't.  Oh, the guilt.

I can safely say I have the best job when it comes to being a working mom...pretty regular hours, not much travel (and when I do, sometimes it feels like a much needed night off, complete with room/maid service) and amazing/understanding managers. I am always home to eat dinner, give baths and bedtime kisses and I get to spend quality time with the kids in the morning.  And, to be completely honest, I really, really like working and my job.  Oh, and did I mention I have the BEST nanny in the world and a mom who takes on less work so she can spend an afternoon with my kids.  Oh, the luck!

I continue to be enamored by stay-at-home moms. They are so selfless and have the patience of saints. I honestly, do not know how they do it.  I envy their dedication and, sometimes, I wish I could feel that way too. 

Deep down I know that in order for me to be the very best mom I can be, I have to be true to myself.  And, right now, that means working.  I am not sure what the future will hold, but what I do know is that when I got home...it felt REALLY good to be missed! 

This Sums It Up

My mommy guilt started long before I was "technically" a mother.  Did I have one too many sips of Coke?  What will happen to my lima-bean-sized baby if I skipped my prenatal vitamins two days in a row?  Did I forever ruin MDBs hearing from an extra loud night at the Bon Jovi concert?  Little did I know that it would get WAY worse when my kids actually came into this world.  


Sometimes the pressure of it all is debilitating.  I doubt pretty much every decision I make.  I mean, the responsibility of keeping my kids -- who I love more than I ever thought possible and then some -- happy/safe/healthy/loved, can actually take my breath away.  


Sometimes, in my states of frazzle, my mom (aka, my rock) says, you don't have to be perfect, you only have to be good enough.  As a perfectionist, this is a very hard concept for me to grasp, but I try to let go...if only for a moment.


My friend, former co-worker, blogger and new mom and I have a lot in common (including a therapist parent) and she sometimes takes the words right out of my mouth.  It is nice to realize I am not alone, so I will let her sum it up for me -- here.