Three of the Four Sombar Kids posing with their treats for Santa. This year they decided not to include the obligatory nutritional side dishes of apples and carrots. Now we know why Santa's waist seems ever so larger-look at that pile of cookies!
I'll title this lovely photo "Christmas Eve With The Crazies"




Tom is a stickler for the element of surprise on Christmas morning and has MANY rules which his children must adhere to before diving into their presents. He requires that they all be lead into the living room, together, with their eyes closed (Liam seen here, cheating). He even goes so far as to tape all of the entrances shut or nailing up curtains on Christmas Eve, so NOBODY gets a sneak-peek. What a Party Pooper!!




Benjamin surveying the mountains of gifts left by his weary parents, Poppy and Tessa, and Santa Claus (Santa only leaves one gift per child-unwrapped-he gets off easy, I would say.)


Lily- the only 10 year old I know who would so happily receive a biography of John F. Kennedy for Christmas! Here she is sporting her new chef's hat, which she plans to use when starting her cupcake business soon.




Liam and his Star Wars treasures.










Seth Paul Sombar's FIRST CHRISTMAS!!!

Seth in his new bungee-jumpy thing-a-ma-bob.

to Grandmother's house we went....and Auntie Wendy's and Jennifer's and Mary Anne's...

we had a whirlwind visit to Maryland this past week. In typical "Letterman" fashion, here is my TOP TEN:

10. Wanting to drive my car off an embankment after listening to three of my four lovely children whine, scream, fight for the first two hours of our road trip. I kept fantasizing about driving with my left hand and smacking the @#%$ out of Benjamin, sitting just behind me and to the right, with a flyswatter. Of course, most people, including myself, don't carry such weapons in their vehicles but I may start. "Moooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyy....I not like this music...Lily not sharing her gum...MOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYY...OPEN MY WAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR BOTTTTTTTTTTTTLE (BEN- I'M DRIVING- ASK LILY)..BUT I WANT YOU TO DO IT, MOMMY. How much longer, Mooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyy (that was 20 minutes into the 5 hour drive), I HATE YOU LIAM...........I HATE EVERYBODY............I HAVE TO PEEEEEEEEEEEEE, Mommmmmmmmmmmmy. I have to poooooooooooooooooop Mommmmmmmmmmmy. Mommmy? Why you not talking Mommmy? MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYY..are you listening to me MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY? Where's Daddy?
9. Bribing Lily with the promise of the DVD "High School Musical 2" if she would take her brother into the reststop to poop and then wipe his heinie, while I nursed a very hungry Seth in the front seat of the van. Clearly, I have no shame. ("Mommy- that was so disgusting!!!!!!" welcome to my world, Lily. sigh)
8. Knocking over two dogs, a cat, and six children (4 of whom were mine), just to get to the bottle of tequila. which my sistah Wendy had waiting for me when we finally arrived in Maryland. Nothing says "Merry Christmas" like a good margarita, people. Believe me.
7. Realizing that I am indeed NOT smarter than a fifth grader (or a first grader, for that matter), while playing the board game of the same name at my long-lost but newly found buddy Jennifer's (Jennifly) house. I mean, really...true or false "granite is an igneous rock" is a dumb question and who in their right mind harbors that kind of trivia in their brains when most of the space is being reserved for the lyrics to all of the songs from the 1980s (the last decade I can recall actually learning the words to songs- now I just hum them like Dustin Hoffman in Rainman).
6. Yes you can breastfeed your baby while holding a margarita...I seem to have a reputation which precedes me. And how interesting it is to be imbibing at the kitchen table instead of on the floor of a frat house, eh Jen? :)
5. The Chinese not only produce lead-laden baby toys, but they also seem to have issues with hallucinating while labeling blankets for stupid American consumers such as myself. Perhaps I am too harsh- I mean, I'm sure its easy to confuse a poorly manufactured textile for the shorn hair of a fine four-legged creature. This information being relevant because I very proudly bestowed a rather lovely ALPACA throw on my soul mate, Mary Anne, for Christmas, whose tag reads "100% polyester!!" Can I have another margarita, please?
4. Mary Anne switched me away from my drink of choice to another intoxicating substance called "chocolate peanut butter malt balls." I didn't need to lose any of that baby weight anyway....
3. Noshing on rotisserie tofu at one of the best vegetarian restaurants on earth-the Berwyn Cafe, in College Park. It was great chatting with co-owner Kathy, and watching Seth fall head over heels in love with her and vice versa. I could totally go vegan if she and her husband, Tahl, would just move to Pittsburgh and cook for me everyday. Though Seth did not care for the hummus I tried to feed him- spitting the minute portion on his tongue half way across the room, while coughing so much I looked like a moron. I don't know, I guess I thought hummus might be a good starter food. Maybe not.
2. Buying Tom 13 fab dress shirts at the ol' thrift store on 450 then taking them to Zips for cleaning and pressing with heavy starch. I am certain that the mafia runs the dry cleaning business in the burgh because we can get shirts done for half the price in Maryland, not even mentioning that any garment is only $1.75 to dryclean. one of only a few things we miss about the D.C. area.
1. Listening to the Junkies morning radio show again- several guys from my graduating class in High School who have found amazing success with their sports talk show- they took over Howard Stern's time slot when he moved to Sirius. Mostly they gab about women, MILFs, sex, porn, male genitalia and other wildly inappropriate subjects, with some sports thrown in for good measure, but man, they make me laugh out loud and I REALLY miss their company in the car in the mornings (for instance, Johnny "Cakes" Auville, who had 3 years of English with me at Roosevelt, spent a good 15 minutes discussing the ins and outs of his size-compromised penis, while his wife, Amy, who was a sorority sister of mine at Towson University, phoned in to reassure all of us listeners and her hubby, that she sees no problems with his performance, as a result. Now, that is entertainment- and who knew I would one day be privvy to any of this info, while suffering through essay writing on the worst book ever written- Billy Budd- in Ms. Pohl's AP English class). If you are around my husband and I long enough, you will hear lingo we adopted from the Junkies-things like "hur-ting" and "money" as adjectives. We are dorks and so are they. Pittsburgh ain't got nothin' on the DC radio scene. For a few brief seconds, and I mean, BRIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEF, I contemplated moving back just to hear those guys on a regular basis again.

We are very happy to be home, where we belong, but these visits make us miss our remarkable friends and my parents so very very much.

or the crack pipe I've been smoking that caused me to convince my husband that our home was in need of another being... for all of you who just had a heart failure thinking I might yet again be with-child- don't get your panties in a wad. our newest family member is a kitty named Belle (actually it is "bell" as in jingle but I was trying to up the ante on the sophistication and make her French).
She is a beautiful spotted 2 year-old short hair whose owner died. We saw her today at Petco when we were shopping for some Christmas presents and were immediately taken by her hunger for affection when we approached her cage and her seemingly gentle spirit. She had been fostered up until recently and was noted to be very good with the other cats and children who lived in that home. We are going to try to ease her into becoming acquainted with Holly, our other cat, but we're hoping that they will become fast friends and the companionship will be beneficial to them both. So, here's to making a life a little better this holiday season- and here's hoping mine doesn't subsequently implode.

P.S. In case you were wondering, YES..my tree is still laying on the living room floor, as pictured in last night's blog. We've moved on people-!!!! besides, who needs a tree when you are busy adopting four-legged critters? Do you think my ADD issues are peaking?

This picture doesn't really need a caption, does it?



How about if a tree falls in your living room? Yup, that's right, in keeping with the usual "Sombar drama", just seconds after publishing my last post, portraying my world to be so serene and divine, my tree with all of its precious cargo came crashing down onto our hearth- destroying several of those ornaments I depicted as priceless....



What remains of one of my favorite ornaments- you almost have to laugh- this could not really have happened. Like a Horror Movie or something, eh?






What more can I say but "ugh." (actually I could say more, which I did while picking up the pieces of my fond memories, but I needn't go there again).

We finally got our tree yesterday and then put it up this afternoon. The plan had originally been to begin the festivities this morning, with hot chocolate, homemade cookies, caroles, and decorating, but there was a crisis involving the tree stand (in a nutshell- it broke, sending the tree on top of Tom, who was laying on the floor under it at the time). Shortly thereafter, Daddy and his three oldest offspring headed for Rolliers, the local hardware store, searching for a new stand. Long story short, we ended up being rescued by (no surprise here) our neighbor, Donna, who just happened to have an extra stand. The kids were so excited to see all the ornaments as they bounded back and forth from the dining room table, where they were laid out, to the tree, to hang them up. As I sat in a chair holding a rather cranky and Grinch Seth (teeth- its not his fault), I smiled, recalling how much I looked forward, every year, to the ritual of decorating the family tree- it certainly ranks high on the list of my favorite memories. Though there was never any real pomp n' circumstance involved, and it was only my mom and I (except for the year my friend Vicki lent a hand), the magic of the ornaments was so enchanting to me. It was as if they held, within them, all the memories of the year I'd first laid eyes on them- and I'd yell "Oh, I remember this one- I love this one, Mommy!!" or "This is my favorite ornament in the whole world!" And there were lots of favorites. How could there not be. Most of them my mom had handmade out of pipe cleaners or plain ornaments that she'd embellished with felt or pretty ribbons. Then there was the log cabin made out of toothpicks, and, in later years, the bread dough creations. I was lucky enough to inherit my mother's unique artistry, so now my family's tree is covered in much the same fashion. There are no fancy glass balls, bought by the half-dozen, or yearly themed decor; just our collection of homemade or somehow personalized ornaments-
each of which conjure up some of our most special moments- a candy-can striped "T" which I gave to Tom when we were first in love,
dough or ceramic black cats for each of the felines we've been lucky enough to love (and subsequently lose in different years)
,each child's "1st Christmas", walnuts made into miniature Santas from Tom's Grandparents who've passed away, a clothespin Santa bought from my Elementary School in the seventies- donated to me from my mom's treasure trove, along with some random Bob the Builders, Madelines, Mickey Mouse, and Winnie The Poohs. Compared to the displays of many in the neighborhood where we live, whose trees are exceptionally coordinated to match their walls and rugs, our collection may first appear to be somewhat tacky and unrefined. A closer look, however, and anyone could see that our lives are most sweetly represented on every branch and I would have it no other way. Thanks Mom for your lasting inspiration and thanks to my kids for keeping the sparkle alive.

Need some ideas for doing' a good deed? Here's my cool site pick for the week (thanks to Jen Lemen's IM):
Cool People Care. Org

Here's an idea for any of you who may be bummin' it on this very gray winter day: dance around your house with the kids (or pets) to your favorite Christmas tune. This afternoon, while folding and putting the laundry away, all four kids and I twirled through the kitchen to "Here Comes Santa Claus." Every once in a while I would throw in a "white girl's version of a soul sister's hip hop move" to shake things up a bit- much to the hilarity of my sons and the embarassment of Lily. Fa La La La La La La La La!

I struggle immensely with perfectionism and, what I assume, is a bit of OCD (obsessive/compulsive disorder for those of you unfamiliar with the term). Anyway, I have been making some small strides lately in overcoming my need for the sparkly abode- you know the one in the Pottery Barn catalogs with nothing out of place? My reality right now is that I can't be a good mother to my children and have the "Better Homes And Gardens" showplace. From the time I awake in the morning, to the time my head hits the pillow at night, I am parenting at least one child, if not all four. Parenting for me is an active verb- I'm not just present in the sense that they can see me or know I'm in the home. It generally means that I'm mindfully with my children, consciously participating in conversation,reading aloud, playing games, baking, or sometimes, when I've really got it together, I manage a bonding session of cleaning together (LOL). So, currently this amounts to the floors being littered with cereal and a strand or two of pasta from the other night's dinner. My counters are not shining from corner to corner, the pillows are rarely in place on the sofas, the dishes are stacked in the sink, not the dishwasher, and there are an eclectic mix of items spread throughout our house, where they don't belong. Maybe the truth is that I don't know what I'm doing and all six of us (well, not Seth, I suppose) are a bunch of slobs, and that's what I really need to be pointing to in this post. Either way, in an effort to get past this obstacle which prevents me, often times, from hosting people in our home for play dates and informal get-togethers, I decided, this week to just let it go. Today, a gal pal of mine, Kim, came over with her two little girls and I lifted not one finger to change the state of my surroundings. I didn't hurry-up and vacuum, sweep or mop. I didn't shovel clutter into dark corners or closets. I didn't make beds or even dry my hair (okay- I got a late start and by the time I was done nursing and putting Seth down, then cuddling with Ben, there was no time for such basic hygiene). And I didn't apologize profusely for any of the mess. I acknowledged its existence and went on to converse about more important things and, basically, left it at that. The earth didn't shake, my skin didn't break-out in a sweat, and Kim didn't seem the least bit bothered by the less-than-perfect appearance of me or my home. Do I feel good about the fact that my environment is trashed right now? No. Am I going to continue to work toward improvement in this area of my life? You bet. But I am going to try like hell to make sure that my relationships aren't postponed or pushed-aside so I can clean. And THAT, my friends, is a baby step in the right direction. Happy Friday!

Being a parent is hard. Not only from a physical perspective, where your kids have more energy at 6am than you do all day, or mentally, where you are constantly challenged to know how to best guide your children on their way, but spiritually, where you long to shelter these human beings that you love from any and all disappointments. Lily is struggling right now with an old friend of hers at school . As a mother, I long to just envelope her in my being, holding her tight against the angst that this girl is provoking within her. Yet, what I know in my heart is that what Lily needs right now is more objective advice that she can grow from- so she can learn the best way to navigate the rough patches that are inevitable in life. Lily sat down with me this evening and the conversation quickly turned from one of benign chit chat to a torrent of emotions- her pain pouring out of her in waves. As the tears streamed down her cheeks, she told of how this old friend has been manipulating her during recess everyday, yelling at her any time she tried to play with others, even her own brother (yes, she actually does apparently want to play with Liam, even at school!). She then proceeded to describe how mean this girl can be, when Lily appears to be spending time with her other friends, and how she even feels threatened because this girl is so much bigger than she is. I found myself wanting to tell her exactly what to do but stopping myself because I knew I needed to really listen to her and give her more of a reflection of her own feelings than those that are mine. We concluded our talk with the consensus that the school counselor needed to be involved-and though Lily was shouldering much of this herself, Tom and I would be advocating for her needs as she deemed necessary. Lily is such a light and easy-going person. What I want most for her is the ability to remain that way, as much as possible. Growing up is hard, isn't it?

Well, it was back to school for all the Sombar kids today(except ol' Sethy, of course). Liam was out for three days last week due to his pervasive ear infections and stomach issues. Benjamin, Seth and I began our day early, searching for some Christmas decor at Target and dropping off stockings to be embroidered at Barefoot Stitches. I splurged last year and bought everyone in our family quilted stockings from Pottery Barn, with names on them. Since Tom's father and stepmother will be spending Christmas with us again this year, I bought them each a stocking as well. We are looking forward to their visit- the kids love to wile away the hours with their "Poppy" while Rose and I bake, clean, reorganize, and gab. Rose is good at whipping things into shape, which is generally an area where I could use all the help I can get. I value her immensely because she has been a very staunch advocate for me, especially when the rest of my husband's clan seemed to be on a witch hunt where I was concerned. While I'm certain she doesn't agree with all of the parenting decisions Tom and I have made in the last decade, she does what all good parents do- she supports us and keeps the rest to herself. I am hoping to get some baking done ahead of time so I am not overwhelmed with meal preparation once they arrive.

I enjoyed having Benjamin along for my errands today- he's become more clingy as of late- I suspect due to some developmental milestones (he will be five next month) or anxiety over his increasing independence. He is a really good kid, though this fact at times becomes muddled by his rather vivacious spirit and occasional behavioral episodes. He really longs to be with me, in any capacity, and I've been striving to become more empathetic towards him and his needs. This can be a challenge when I feel so maxed but I find that including him, even in the most mundane of activities, will head off most acting out on his part, and helps me to see him in a better light more often. I think when you have a spirited child, you can find yourself forming general opinions about them and their behavior which have a real negative impact on your relationship. By working with him and meeting him where he is, emotionally, I feel less like I want to beat the crap out of him (LOL)and more like I can understand where he is coming from and walk a mile in his shoes. At almost five years old, Benjamin struggles greatly with feeling a lack of control over his daily choices and empowerment. It is very hard for him to hear that his ideas or desires are not convenient or possible and this tends to send him into a tail spin. I read recently, online, an opinion from a more veteran mother of sorts, that being a child is actually a much harder job than being a parent, due to the lack of power you have over your own life. I pondered this for a while last week, and I must admit, I think she's right. If given the opportunity to return to my own childhood, I would never take it because, as a grown-up, I can mold my life into what I want it to be rather than what others feel is best, etc. If I'm hungry I can eat what I want, when I want. If I need something new to wear because the clothes I have don't make me feel good about my body, I can go buy it. If I want to watch a movie at midnight, I can choose to do this and take full responsibility for how I feel the next day. So, from this perspective, it would seem that, as a parent, my job is not only to guide my children safely through their "growing-up" years, but to attempt to empower them the best way I can. I have been trying to see things from this side of the coin for about a week now and it has really been enlightening- the harder I work to enable them to achieve something they are reaching toward, the better I am at understanding their quirks and the more fun I have as a parent. This will be a life-long project for me but one that I think is really amazing to watch unfold.

On a final note, the kids and I worked for about an hour at our local library this afternoon, setting out all of our nativity scenes in the display case for the month. We all took great pains to arrange each one just so and I felt so proud to behold all of them- layed out for the community to see. Its so nice to have something you feel so passionate about that you choose to start a collection. I don't know- I guess it adds a little spark to your soul. I cheated a little and bought two nativities at the last minute, on Sunday, from the Fair Trade store in Squirrel Hill: a very unique piece from Malawi- carved solely from wood, and one from Nepal made from recycled textiles, bamboo, and wood.

All in all, it was a good Monday and I'm pooped.

...well, the Huntin' Holiday, that is. All of my kids were home from school today and we had so much fun (I did anyway). The house is a pigsty but I woke up this morning and committed myself to overlooking the filth and letting my hair down a bit. We played cards, bingo, a "Cranium" game- slightly modified for my preschooler. I baked chocolate chip cookies (and didn't burn them, thank you very much). I already miss them and wish they didn't have to go back to school tomorrow. :(

...I don't know where this road
Is going to lead
All I know is where we've been
And what we've been through.

If we get to see tomorrow
I hope its worth all the wait
Its so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.

And I'll take with me the memories
To be my sunshine after the rain
Its so hard to say goodbye to yesterday... G.C. Cameron

I believe that a major source of turmoil in my mind and in my home is due to clutter. One may also call it gluttony or the American Way. No matter, if you ever sink your teeth into a little Feng Shui philosophy, you'll know that you can't live in peace when your abode is strewn with stuff. I have learned the hard way that holding on to items which are not necessarily purposeful, but somehow guilt inducing, has consequences that are wide-ranging and painful. The frustration of having too much affects everyone around you and causes stagnation in your emotional and spiritual growth. So, today, Tom and I got brutal with the containers and piles of junk in our garage. Things we've sworn that we wanted to save, for years now, were, without debate, deposited into the "go" bag. So, it was with great trepidation that I bid goodbye to an old friend- my beloved teddy bear of twenty-three years. He was a gift to me from a "mentor" I had been partnered with through a girls club in middle school. I remember opening the big box from her at Christmas time, finding, to my delight, a big brown fluffy bear. He became my better half of sorts, accompanying me on overnights with girlfriends, to camp, to college, to my first apartment, and to each of the homes I've lived in after that. Even once I'd outgrown the need for him, marrying my human "better-half," I kept the bear around, horrified by the thought of getting rid of him. He'd seen me through many of the difficult periods of my teen years, and then some, and, worst of all, the woman who had gifted him to me, died, shortly thereafter, of leukemia. Yet, recently, I've had to come to terms with my need for organized, meaningful spaces, and how keeping things which harbor only sentimental value, must be well-thought out and very intentional. Other than the people in my life whom I love so dearly, the things I hold most valuable are my photos and letters, my Colorado pottery, and certain books. Using those categories as a gauge, I knew that the bear, with the matted fur and flattened body, should no longer be hanging around, gathering dust. Its so hard to cope, sometimes, with moving on, even from objects. But, if by doing this today, means that I will have to spend less time cleaning and reorganizing, and more time with my family, it is worth it. And the bear, along with the memories associated with him, will live on in my mind, where he belongs.

Lily displaying the creative work of her father- her coveted birthday number pancake, now a double digit.


Ten years ago today i was alternating between screaming and crying, as I labored hard for over twenty-three hours (42 hours total) to bring my first child into the world. I can remember, as if it were yesterday, how amazing she looked to me, when they laid her on my chest, her familiar face and not-so-familiar curly black hair. It was in those moments that I was reborn- where all my disappointments in life suddenly disappeared, and I was given a second chance to shine. I had been granted a soul transplant, of sorts, where my primary source of life and meaning was suddenly circulating outside of myself and into another being.

And if I had any clue as to the painstaking hours, days, weeks, months, and years that were to follow, I may have at least thought twice about my decision to tread down this path. Though brilliant by virtue of its miraculous beginning, giving birth to new life and then holding it close, as it unfolds, is without a doubt, the toughest act of one's existence. Much like organ transplants, mothering involves a constant battle to keep the most selfish crevices of your person from rejecting this most selfless mission. Like a lioness with its infant cubs, you, guided solely by instinct, envelope your child, both physically and spiritually, protecting their well-being, while leaving that which is yours, so vulnerable and endangered. Sometimes it means walking closest to the curb next to a busy street, in case a wayward vehicle should hit the sidewalk. Sometimes it means sacrificing things that promise to bring you joy in order to fulfill the needs of your child. Sometimes it means sleepless nights while they scream from the pain of new teeth, tummy aches, or nightmares. Sometimes it means risking your reputation as you parent in ways that others may find radical or ridiculous. Sometimes it means you lose some friendships you counted on and family you trusted. Sometimes it means you cry for hours, wanting to ease the turmoil of your child who's been hurt by the insensitivity of others or by the expectations of our school system. Sometimes it means that you have a filthy floor, dirty toilets, and unmade beds, while you turn sommersaults on the grass. Sometimes it means that you eat chicken nuggets instead of chicken marsala for dinner and popsicles instead of creme brulee for dessert. Sometimes it means that the stack of books next to your bed were all written by a man named Seuss and the art on your walls is from crayon. Sometimes it means you wear thrift store shoes instead of Kenneth Cole's from Nordstrom, like you used to. And sometimes it means you must embrace letting go.

I watched my ten year old girl get dressed for school today. She had on slim designer jeans, a Hollywood jacket, and some Inuit inspired fashion boots gracing her legs just below the knees. Her curly hair, now a beautiful strawberry blonde, shone, as she brushed it without even a wince. And for nearly a second or two, I held her, smelling her skin, as my lips brushed her forehead, wanting to, once again, have the time to take all of her in- her life in my arms.
But she walks her almost seven-year-old brother to school every morning and she hates to be late. So I let her go...out the door...gazing at how her long legs take to the pavement...feeling no sorrow in my heart that she is no longer a helpless newborn at my breast...only pride that a fallable spirit such as mine could have turned out an amazing spirit such as her. She is all of my good intentions in life. She is all the beauty I ever hoped for. She is all the love I always hungered to feel. She Is, and I am forever a richer person because of this day, a decade ago.

Liam, Seth and I, outside of Dinardos Candy Store.
Lily and her buddy Rachel, chillin' at the pizza place.




Well, I figured it was time for me to post again- I've been in a creative rut as of late, most likely due to the barage of germs encircling every member of my lovely family. I have a fantasy that big men in white suits and gas masks will invade our abode to halt the contamination. soon. and they aren't necessarily cute men- they just promise me that none of my offspring will have even a sniffle for the rest of the winter.

There have been a number of things on my mind lately, concerning my children and a variety of contraband. It all began, really, when I met Liam up at school, last Friday, and took him to Mineos for lunch and then to Dinardos for an after-pizza treat. Lily and her friend Rachel showed up and I noticed that both she and Liam were aiming to purchase some candy cigarettes. My first reaction was of horror- and I immediately told him to forget it- he was not going to be buying those. But then I had a change of heart, and instructed them to go ahead and get whatever they wanted, that I didn't care. So they did. Do I care? Of course. No person in their right mind wants to even envision their kids pretending to participate in an activity which will inevitably lead to their suffering and early demise. Those days were over decades ago. But, I do know this....the fascination with such things as smoking cigarettes seems to go hand-in-hand with parents' disapproval of the behavior. And I don't believe, for a minute, that just because the kids stuff their mouths with candy shaped like Marlboros that they are going to turn into chain-smoking thirteen year-olds. I have seen, in my experience at a parent, that talking to my children, very casually but intentionally, about controversial issues, and being very straight-forward and honest with them, offers the best armor against the vast array of dangers in the world. Lets face it, most of us, at one time or another, picked up a cigarette, probably at a bar, while drinking, took a puff, maybe inhaled, maybe did this more than once, but we aren't smokers. Why? Not because our parents said "you can't do that because I said so" but because we know it makes you smell bad, turns-off anyone who might still want to lock lips with you, costs way too much money, and eventually kills you. And I am deciding, for now, to trust that Lily, Liam, Benjamin, and Seth will take the same information and form the same conclusions. If not, well...then I'll be wrong.

This leads me to another subject that I have been battling within- that of video games. I don't own a game cube, a playstation, a wii, or the like. I've, in the past, vowed not to purchase these entertainment devices, mostly because I liked my children for the creative ways they chose to play, while here at home, and I didn't want them to become so enamored with gaming that they stopped indulging in more natural forms of interaction with one another. However....here goes...video games are fun. I know because today, while Lily was home sick, I played a couple, on the computer, with she and Ben. And the best part, was that we were laughing and I was stepping into their world and enjoying it. I want to have fun and I want my kids to have fun and I do believe that there are many ways of achieving joy in our relationships with one another that aren't necessarily my first choice. I'd like my world to appear more like a page out of Walden by Henry David Thoreau than an hour on The Disney Channel. But when I chose to have children, I invited into my life, four distinct personalities, who define happiness in a completely different manner than I do. And it is my job, I think, to create an environment where there is honor given to everyone's desires, no matter how silly they seem at the time. So, in keeping with that principle, I'm thinking it may be time to seriously consider a move in the virtual direction. Even if it only involves the purchase of a playstation and five electric guitars for us all to rock on together (with the game "Guitar Hero.") Now that could be fun.

I ain't going to lie to ya folks- its been a harrowing coupla weeks. But as I lay here, wide awake, next to my restless four month old son, I am finding myself smirking at some of the ways my daily existence plays out. I've been brooding a lot lately, mostly to Tom, though I've been venturing on to other victims such as Donna, my next-door neighbor, Nancy Sanders, my long-time pragmatist bud from Virginia, and Marie, a woman I barely know but who has a self-proclaimed struggle with ADD, which automatically makes her a target for friendship with me. Anyway, my husband has always been one to say that there's nothing wrong with me, per se, except for the circumstances of my existence as a full-time mother of (first it was one, then two, then three, and now...four). Sometimes, this helps, though when I'm feeling particularly morose (i like that word), I argue with him that he just needs to cart me off to the psych ward (that actually sounds rather restful...hmmmmm). But he does have a point. For example, is it any wonder that the human race continues? To have a baby, many people, like me, spend the first twelve weeks of pregnancy on the gourmet diet of saltines and ginger ale, preferring to die a slow death at the hands of a hardened criminal rather than spend one more minute in a nauseated stupor, then its on to the "honeymoon" phase where you supposedly feel pretty great (i think you are just grateful for the stomach to finally ingest real food), then its onto the duck phase, where you waddle around town pulling up your pants because even the biggest maternity jeans can't possibly cover your rotund belly, then you sweat and grunt and scream and cry through labor, looking much like a drowned cat or homeless person, then you have to nurse a floppy newborn around the clock with nipples that are aflame, all the while your belly is empty but still rotund and now covered in stretch marks, and after a period of months, your body decides to do some major hormone rearranging and you are left weepy as you watch your hair fall out in piles around you. Yep, friends, I'm currently a cross between Sinead O'Connor and Telly Sevalis (now there's a mental image for ya). Surely you have to laugh at that. Then there's how I don't go potty by myself- which to most women may be a right of humanness, but for me is an unrequited luxury. While my darling hubby reads newsweek and enthralling novels while on the can, I get to read, aloud mind you, to Benjamin, things like "How Are You Peeling" a book of moods, illustrated by vegetables and fruits carved into faces of varying contortions (happy, excited, scared, angry- really onions just should never have bucked teeth, people- its not attractive and it would lead any normal person into a state of psychosis in a minute). Now that is funny.

is read a fucking story to my 1st grader's class- and "they" won't let me and so i'm going to start getting radical about this public school nonsense. If you can't be involved in your child's education, when he is 6 years old....I don't know. I'm just so angry right now...I pay an enormous amount of taxes to live in this town, most of which go to benefit Washington Elementary School. You think that when you get out of the ghetto and into the districts where everyone is white and the buildings are pretty that your child's experience will be top-notch...well, it is a myth and each day that passes I am becoming more and more disgruntled with how my children are spending their seven hours a day.

that is my rant, this rainy friday morning, and i'm sticking to it- no apologies. (even if I did drop the "f-bomb.")

I love books. If I was stranded on an island, or some other remote place, and all I had, other than the people I love, were books, along with food/water to nourish me, I would be content ( of course, I'm not stranded anywhere, and I have much more than books and the people I love, and I struggle daily with discontent- but I guess that is for another day). One of my fabulous finds at the library sale, going on here in our town, was The Remarkable Benjamin Franklin by Cheryl Harness. I picked it up for the kids, as they love to learn about him (inspired greatly by the movie National Treasure). Well, as I began reading it to Benjamin, I was really enamored by the quotes from him that the author listed on each page. My favorite is this one: "If you would not be forgotten, As soon as you are dead and rotten, Either write things worthy reading, Or do things worth the writing." Some others are: "Hide not your talents, they for use were made. What's a sun-dial in the shade!", "The noblest question in the World is What Good may I do in it?", "Who is strong? He that can conquer his bad Habits.", "God helps them that help themselves.", "Human felicity is produced not so much by great peices of good fortune that seldom happen, as by little advantages that occur every day."
Benjamin Franklin was an incredible human being, perhaps greater than all others, and I am thankful to my children for giving me the greatest excuse in the world to learn about people such as him. I am always learning and that, alone, makes life worth every minute.

Granny with Lily, Tom and Seth, at our favorite ice cream spot- Brusters
Grandpa "Paul" sharing his popsicles with Ben and his buddies Trevor and Mikey





My parents left yesterday after an extended visit to our abode. Growing up, there were many occasions when I wanted to disown them- as we clashed on many levels- mostly pertaining to my independant spirit (and my love of boys- ahem). Now, however, I love watching them, as grandparents, nurture and love my children. My Dad, very proudly, walked Lily and Liam to school in the mornings, my Mom would whip our laundry (when the washer was working) into shape everyday, and both of them would play "jackpot"- a card game my father invented, where the kids win coupons for treats and a little money. Lily, Liam, Benjamin, and Seth are very lucky to be so loved and I'm so happy for them. We would all be better people if we had grandparents like my parents.

Tom spent a good part of this afternoon trying to repair our lemon of a washing machine. At one point, it became a family affair, when he had Liam on the floor with his head half-way in the bottom of the machine, attempting to pull the control panel out (his arm was the smallest of the capable humans in our home). As I leaned in to help him, I found myself smiling that my almost seven year old was working with us to fix a household appliance. And boy, was he proud. Well, it didn't work so we will be moving to plan B soon.........either dragging trash bags of our laundry to Donna's house next door, Marie's house down the street, or to the Allegheny River and scrubbing the clothes on a rock. Its a little cold here for that though.

I am reading a very interesting book right now- "Your Money or Your Life" by Vicki Robin and Joe Dominguez. In chapter two, there is a very enlightening definition of money as "something we choose to trade our life energy for." The authors then go on to state that if you are 40 years old, you can expect to have approximately "329,601 hours of life energy left before you die. Assuming about half of your time is spent on necessary body maintenance-sleeping, eating, eliminating, washing and exercising- you have 164,800 hours of life energy remaining for such discretionary uses as: your relationship to yourself, your relationship to others, your creative expression, your contribution to your community, your contribution to the world, achieving inner peace and holding down a job." Well, I don't know about you, but the "holding down a job" part occupies so much of our time, it doesn't seem like there are many hours left to do the other six activities. Of course, as a full-time mom, I am no longer a part of the wage-earning work force (yeah- no kidding, right?) but Tom, my husband is, and I know that he feels both the joys and pains of his job on a daily basis, and is beginning to believe the the cons are getting much heavier to bear than the pros. We are starting to think about this. Thinking.....................

Despite the bug lurking in my innards, I had some good moments at the end of the day (well, it ain't over 'til its over; is it ever over?):

1) seeing Ben's joy at Granny getting the "Old Maid" card from his hand
2) playing yahtzee with mom and dad while holding Seth (who miraculously sat through the whole game without complaint)
3) watching Liam very gently kiss Seth goodnight
4) Lily's glee at being able to go "uptown" for lunch today with her friend Emme, where she had pizza, rootbeer, and then about $2.50 worth of candy (she's still savoring those treats, along with her brothers)
5) listening to Ben and Mikey plan their trip to China, and then go and come back ("we going to camp out Mama, cuz its a long way, you know.")

Ahh, where is my husband. I'm now ready to crash.


***oh, by the way, in case you are interested, the vegan thing went out the door today- I am such a dork***

Beth, my lifesaving friend, holding Seth
Best Buds Ben and Mikey




I am struggling to keep it together this morning. I'm exhausted. Seth was up four times during the night- from his cold or teething or some developmental phase. Benjamin began kicking and screaming at the crack of dawn to come lay with me. He's an early bird, and very high energy from the point of waking. I've got some virus I'm fighting, which has my head and back aching and my stomach in a whirl. I don't do well on days like today- I start to wonder if there is something wrong with me. I can't enjoy my kids- they just feel like weights on my shoulders that I can no longer carry. I just want to crawl under a rock and sleep for a while.

Beth, Mikey's mom and a friend of mine, and I have been pooling our resources to care for our boys when they are not in preschool. Ben and Mikey love playing together and it gives Beth and I a chance to breathe. This morning, she and I decided to split the day- so she came and picked up Ben and will bring the boys to me for the afternoon. It is such a life saver for us all. Ben is very extroverted and climbs the walls with Liam in school full days now. I spend a great deal of time playing board games, sports, and reading to him, but he really craves time with his friends. I am grateful for Beth today, and my Mom, who is currently pushing Seth's swing by hand as it ceased to function yesterday.

Its minute by minute today kids. Minute by minute.

Do you ever think about times in your life where you've behaved shamefully and wish you hadn't? Do you ever think about writing letters to the people you have hurt in your life? I do. I actually think of this quite often. I did some really crappy things in the past, that I'm not proud of, and, though I know I can't undo the pain my actions caused, I have this urging from within to speak the words "I'm sorry." When I was in highschool, there was a rather overweight girl who had somehow become a pariah to the friends I used to walk with in the afternoons. I think they'd had some disagreements in middle school, or something of the sort. Anyway, anytime they would see this girl coming their way, they would all start to "moooooooooooooooooooooooooooo" in unison, and, though I didn't know her myself, I would participate in this horrific abuse. (and if you ever doubted that what comes around, goes around, you need not look any farther than the author of this blog, who is currently, as we are all aware, struggling with extra belly baggage). I saw this girl a few months ago, in passing, and I so wanted to approach her and voice my sorrow at what I'd done. I know that she must have been so hurt back then and perhaps still carries some of that burden today, who knows. But I didn't have the nerve. This I know, for all the people who made fun of me or bullied me in school, there isn't a one I don't remember. And if they called me today to apologize, I would certainly feel lighter within my soul.

Liam happily eating his soft pretzel, wearing pajamas to school, along with Lily, for "pajama day."




Liam, my second child, has ALWAYS been a picky eater. It began, I assume, with his vast food allergies as an infant (dairy, soy, peanuts, and tree nuts). Now, as an almost seven year old, he will only eat a small variety of things, like PBJs, boiled chicken (cannot have any brown spots on it from baking- lol), chicken nuggets (which is like a whole food group in our family- funny to mention that after a "vegan" post), honey nut cheerios w/o milk, chocolate soy milk, juice, carrots, salsa, and many fruits. Breakfast is always an issue for him because, aside from the cheerios and waffles (w/ peanut butter and syrup), there isn't much he'll eat that I fix for the others. In the past, this has sometimes caused major frustrations, for both of us, but, in keeping with my renewed efforts at saying "yes" more often, I decided to fix him something that I knew he would eat this morning- a soft baked pretzel (he's asked before and both his father and I have said "NO!!!!!!!!!!- you are not eating a pretzel for breakfast- you need something healthy!!!". While not a traditional "breakfast food," I decided that it was perfectly fine as it is really just bread in a weird shape, right? Then I started thinking about other things the kids might think were cool for breakfast and how they have some redeeming qualities- ice cream has calcium and protein (Breyers being the chemical-free brand), chips and salsa- well, salsa is a vegetable. So, here's to breaking out of the breakfast box and throwing off your kids with something out of the ordinary and a big "yes" to boot!!! :)

I am experimenting with vegan ism this week. I've committed myself, for the next seven days, to eating food from plant sources only(don't get nervous- Bonnie- I won't be making you Brussels sprout souffle for dinner Thursday!). Why? Well, it all started about a year and a half ago....I accompanied Liam on his preschool class trip to an organic farm- about 40 miles South of here. I love farms, as well as farm animals, and have coveted rural property for as long as I can remember. I was very excited to be going on this field trip...then I got there...and I saw, with shock and horror the manner in which the cows (even "organic" cows) are raised. There is no utopia here, guys. The dairy cows are kept in stalls 24 hours a day, standing, where they must eat, pee and poop in the same spot. They are only permitted to graze when they are pregnant, and the moment they give birth, they are separated from their babies and placed back in the milking barn. The babies are put in smaller stalls, where they are fed by bottle (and they bleat, continuously, for their mothers, I assume). Well, I left there very disgusted and vowed to change my eating habits once and for all. Then I went out to dinner and couldn't resist the steak, which I regrettably enjoy, and my ill-feelings went by the wayside. Then, four weeks ago, I bought the book Skinny Bitch (thinking, of course, that it would contain some miracle recipe for my rather unfortunate girth), only to discover that the secret contained on the pages within, for getting skinny, was to avoid animal products altogether. I bypassed the chapter on the suffering of factory farm animals, as I knew I would never sleep again and would, perhaps, proceed to slit my wrists, but I began to ponder the question of animal rights and the ethics related to eating them. At the same time, I read a report, which was featured on the CBS Evening News, that the findings of a major study had just been released, which disclosed that people with diabetes, who'd been placed on a vegan eating plan (as opposed to the high protein, low carb diet recommended by the American Diabetic Association), experienced major successes in coping with the disease, and were, for the majority of the participants in the vegan group, able to quit their diabetes medication (this being relevant for me due to my diagnosis of gestational diabetes during this most recent pregnancy, and therefore, my predisposition to a future type II diabetes status. Still, I couldn't decide to quit meat- (though I have quit dairy 3 times in the last decade due to my babies' allergies to milk protein and once because someone advised me that my emotional state would benefit from removing most animals products from my diet). Last week, on a trip to the thrift store, which you know all about, I happened upon a home decorating book (with feng shui advice), and couldn't, of course, pass it up. Inside, somewhere between the living room design and the bedroom planning ideas, was a chapter on decluttering your body and eating vegan. Well, I somehow figured that the universe was trying to send me a message (I mean, really, I just wanted to see how to make my boudoir more delightful) and I needed, finally to listen. So I did and here I am. Two days into vegan ism. How's the trip? Eh, so-so. My parents bought a bucket of KFC (and the yummy fake potatoes and gravy)for dinner last night- that smelled delicious (okay, people, I know I need not be eating that mess anyhow- but it is quite divine!). I made pizza for the kids for lunch today (Ben and his two friends that come here once a week)- that melted mozzarella looked sooooooooooooo good- it was kind of hard to resist. Aside from that, I'm fine. I'm certainly healthier, even for only two days of "detox." I took a photograph of today's lunch to show you (because I am a nerd- if you didn't already know that): black bean soup (with Tofutti non-dairy sour cream), fresh baby carrots (with Goddess dressing for dip), 4 falafel sticks, strawberries and a small slice of vegan carrot cake (from Whole Foods).
I'll keep you posted on my progress in this direction. I don't know. Its so much easier not to care about this stuff but what the hell does that say about me?

Want to know more? Here's a link to Vegan Outreach, which has pretty decent info, and easily avoided cruelty descriptions, for those of you like me.

My Thrift Store Treasures



I have an addiction to children's books. I love them. I don't know why, exactly, maybe its the pictures- how did we adults become so boring that we publish works of fiction and non-fiction without pictures? Like you just wake up one day, and you are ______ (fill in the blank) years old and you no longer need something pretty to go along with that boring old black print on white paper? Well, anyway, I scored some mighty fine books at the thrift store and I thought I'd boast on them tonight, before I head into a deep slumber. I'm working on my home library and when its done I'll share it with you. I used to feel really guilty about my book habits but then a light bulb moment (yes, that is an Oprah reference- sorry) happened and I gave myself permission to be quirky in this regard. Some people, like Imelda Marcos, for example, have shoe gluttony (had shoe gluttony- I think she's dead). For me, its Dr. Seuss, Tomie DePaola, Patricia Polacco, Jerry Pinkney, Barbara Cooney, and about a thousand others. And I've got this crazy dream (anyone want to call Oprah's Angel Network for me?) that I buy some old jalopy school bus and turn it into a free book mobile (I hate the library- I always owe them a ton of money because i can't ever return my books on time) and I'll drive into the poorest communities in our nation and I'll give away tons of books to every kid who wants one and they won't ever have to give them back. And the books will be about people who look like them and that they will want to absorb and never put down. But, for now, I'm just a dreamer with a habit.

Here are some pictures of the fun "mommy moments" I've had in the last day or so. First of all, one way I have been bonding with Benjamin in the morning, after I put Seth down, is allowing him to help me clean (that sounds so pathetic and anal retentive- he loves to clean and I usually do it by myself because I am a control freak and in a hurry). I bought some great mops that are easy for him to use. He really digs washing floors (the pics are from our front porch) and he does a good job.

I've also been loving Seth, now that he is out of blob mode and more interactive. He smiles a lot and we're convinced he's some sort of genius because he's been talking non-stop (not that he's using English words- but he sure does feel strongly about whatever it is he's saying).

Lily is a super big-sister and loves playing peek-a-boo with Seth.

I have a great life. I just need some rest. :)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRANNY!!!








Its almost 9pm and I'm exhausted. It has been a long day- filled with fun things as well as arduous tasks. I've been thinking a lot tonight about obligations and how I need less of them at this point in my life. I've got a husband who's travelling for the next two days. I've got two kids getting school pictures taken tomorrow, one of whom has been temporarily displaced from her room by my visiting parents [so her clothes are not organized in a dresser and we can't find a good "photographing" outfit]. I had to run out at 8:15, to the pharmacy, to pick-up a prescription I had to take tonight. I had to make lunches, write checks for pictures and pizza, sign Lily's agenda, feel guilty that Liam didn't do his reading homework, and, last but not least, wipe the puddle of ice cream off of my shoe that some offspring of mine spilled and decided to leave there for me to clean up [no I'm not bitter- just tired]. And the icing on the cake of all of this [pardon the pun] is that today is MY MOM'S BIRTHDAY- and she's here and this evening, for her "party", I had to try very hard to bury my cranky-cuss word side and show my appreciation for the fact that she was born 66 years ago today and that I love her. We should have had the party over breakfast- I would have been a lot better behaved. Ugh. (sorry Mom). So..................in a nutshell...........I feel like what I've been doing lately, purging all of the extracurricular agenda items from my days, is so important and the simpler I can make things for myself, the more joy I will find as a mother. But, at the same time, I feel real trepedation with doing this- "what if I lose all my friends, and by not being involved, my days will go back to the way they were when we first moved here and I didn't know anyone and I wanted to leap off a bridge?" My ADD side (here I go again), or my ultra-creative side, or my extroverted side, is always inclined to DO MORE. And for nearly a decade, since my first child was born, I have continued to live my life in this manner- forcing a ton of "running around" into my schedule so that I would not be isolated from the movement of the world. Being a full-time mom is hard in that regard- it is isolating by nature- since our culture is not imbedded with communal living or even "village-style" living. Sigh. Where is the balance-my children are so precious to me- they make up an enormous chunk of my spirit- and the last thing I want is for life to speed by, with all the "stuff" dangling over me, and wake up with no more time left to absorb the wonder of their beings.

My third child, Benjamin, is what author Mary Sheedy Kurcinka describes as a "spirited child." If we say walk- he runs. If we say inside voice- he screams. For many kids, the average day would revolve around watching cartoons, playing outside, doing some art project, etc. Ben has no average days- and the most consistent thing he does is be inconsistent. Ben wakes up in the morning at the crack of dawn and immediately gets himself dressed, at least part way, packs his bags, and announces that he's walking to the airport so he can go to China (this a departure from his old plans to actually walk to China, which I had to explain, through the use of a globe, how there are oceans between our continents and therefore, walking is impossible). Or sometimes he wakes up, feeling bitter, and demands that he go to Toys R Us to get a skateboard or to the shoe store to get new shoes (despite having gotten new shoes the previous day). Well, this, my friends, can be very exhausting and often ends with me feeling worn down by 9 am. So, I've committed myself to trying a new tactic with him- I want to allow him to hear the words "yes" more often- and I've started putting great effort into finding ways to allow him the freedom to explore his desires, while keeping him safe and me sane. This morning he approached me with the candle snuffer and proclaimed that he wanted to put out some flames. Being 8:30am, completely daylight, we had no candles burning- and my first instinct was to say "no, Ben, not right now- maybe later." I say that a lot. And sometimes, later never gets here- or it doesn't happen for days, weeks, or months. And there is a certain amount of disrespect for children, I believe, when we put off their creative impulses just because they seem a little ridiculous or inconvenient (though, I also believe, that we are a team- parents and kids- and things have to work in harmony for all of us, not one sided either way). So, we lit about fifteen candles, around the house, and Ben very enthusiastically snuffed them out. That was that. He felt empowered and I felt good to be in that moment with him.

My good pal, Stacey, who constantly looks out for my best interests (I have many of them), sent me the link to this awesome webpage about a family of 6 who traveled around the world in a year....I am not going to say anything more, lest the reality of my deluded brain becomes more apparent to the few who know about this blog of mine.
http://www.sixintheworld.com/an-overivew-of-the-trip/

Casey Henry and Lila- who let me into their corner about 6 months ago- and whose friendships with me are full of such laughter and silliness.
Stacey Walls and I, before Seth's birth. We could be sisters......



Life in our culture can be very transient- we move for jobs, better schools, bigger houses, politics....Tom and I have relocated our family four times since Lily's birth, and through it all, have gained and lost a number of close friends (or whom we thought were close friends- you find out the truth very quickly when being in relationship isn't so convenient anymore). Since moving to Pittsburgh, especially within the last year, I've formed some frienships which are extremely meaningful to me, and ones which I hope will survive any future transitions (on our part or theirs). I got to spend time with each of these women yesterday and it really made me feel such appreciation for the depth of our conversations and spiritual connections (try not to gag- that was really sappy). Its so refreshing to be able to show your true colors (mine are rather fluorescent sometimes, I know) and still be welcome back. Its nice that they, mutually exclusive of one another, are so genuine in their caring for me and my kids, and in nurturing our friendship beyond the surface level. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for including me in your lives. My life is richer for the hours I've spent with you.

I'm having a sad morning. I headed off to Community Bible Study , after much stress (seth's car seat wasn't attached, no one had their shoes on, liam couldn't find his backpack....)only to turn around and come home. I've been having this gut feeling that I should quit this part of my life for a while, as Seth is miserable and the process of getting into the city is long (about an hour, with rush hour traffic), arduous, and makes me cranky. Afterward, on the return drive, I had a thought provoking conversation with my friend Beth: if getting to church, or the like, makes you stressed out and mean, it goes against the very fiber of what spirituality is to be gained by going and, therefore, does more harm than good. She's right. Thursday mornings have been hard on the boys and I since we began attending CBS last fall. I chose to go to a group that meets in a more diverse part of Pittsburgh, so it is quite a haul to get there. While it has been a remarkable time for me, and I've learned so much about the Bible by being in this study, it has only been a marginal experience for the boys- and perhaps one that doesn't lend itself to that peace of Jesus. I'm going to be taking inventory of my life this week, seeking to uncover ways that I can simplify our schedule so that life is more joyful and less hectic. But letting go of something I've counted on is hard and I will be missing my CBS friends tremendously.

Lily and Liam- My "good enough" kids


I wonder if it is a natural tendency for mothers (and fathers) to equate a child's performance in school with their worthiness as parents...I say this because I find myself lurking on the edges of shame when I hear other mothers speak of their children's reading aptitude (it happened on the playground today, and I caught myself in a moment of doubt). It doesn't last very long, and honestly, deep in my soul, I know that my kids are really smart- even if they don't measure up according to the public education system (but why do I feel the need to mention that they are smart? what is smart? and what does it have to do with me?). It's that competitive nature that hurls us into those dark corners where we don't like to say we've been- where we want to believe that because we are such great people, our children will all be "talented and gifted" according to some bureaucrat somewhere, who makes those judgement calls. I remember my friend Julie laughing at how parents, at orientation meetings, would openly ask about the "accelerated programs" that were available, because THEIR kids will SURELY need them, but rarely ever inquired as to the special education services. That "what if" doesn't really cross our minds, does it, until it happens.

Lily struggled enormously with learning to read and did not accomplish this milestone during that kindergarten through first grade year, as is considered "normal" in our society. Oh, the tears I cried that she just wasn't getting it. And oh the stress she must have felt as a result. Tom and I removed her from the private school she was attending, unschooled her (let her learn through life with very little coercion as far as forced learning is concerned). By the time we moved to Pittsburgh, and she chose to go back to school, she was on "grade level," due not, in my opinion, to any greatness of mine but because that was her time. Now, in fourth grade, Lily enjoys books as much as any of her peers and could probably read anything put in front of her.

Liam will be seven years old in November and he is in his second year of working daily with a reading specialist. And he's having a rough go of it, in some respects, with the sight words he's asked to memorize every week. I spend a lot of time with him, playing match the sight word, go fish for the sight word..., giving out prizes for motivation- attempting to get him over this hump. But, I must say, I really do wonder if our lack of acceptance of children for who they are and their own time lines for development, does more harm than good. I worry that by harping on this subject too much, Liam will feel that he is not "good enough" as the person that he is- smart, funny, giving, and an incredible spirit- reading well or not. And, if he doesn't have the privilege of time-off from school, will this cycle of being "behind" ever end?