Are You Still Smoking, Mamacita?

Even though it's harder and harder to be a smoker these days with all the non-smoking restaurants and bars across the nation, some of you mommas still gotta have one.  Or do you?  Stop the madness! Quit smoking.


Created by: www.OnlineNursingPrograms.com

Holy Competition, Batman!

"I want the right seat!" And the race begins.  My two sons scramble their little feet to the car shoving and climbing to get to the right seat first.  The right seat. The glorious right seat.

This declaration made by Luke a few months ago, that the "right seat" was indeed the best seat in the car, became a subtle relief to me.  What's that you say? No more fighting with the kids to get them to the car?  All I have to say as we're leaving the house now?

"Whoever gets to the car first gets the right seat!" I shout out, keys in hand. I've never seen two kids get dressed and out the door so fast! 

Oh, but yes, it gets better...

"Whoever eats ALL their green beans first will be the strongest and the tallest brother!"  And their greens are gone!

"Let's see who can pick up all the toys the fastest!"  And our living room is clean!

They're even competing for our attention now.  If Zealand trips over the dog and hurts his elbow, Luke follows behind him crying out, "I just tripped over Yukon too and hurt my elbow too! Kiss me too!"

And aren't I the luckiest mommy in the world...when one son picks me a flower, my other son rushes to pick two.


Competition...I think I love you!

Read This ONLY If You Are A Mom Who Enjoys Wine!

Thank you so much for all the videos you sent in!  Now, we need your photos! 

If you have any pictures-or videos- of your children driving you crazy, throwing a fit, or even being sweet, etc. - we'd like to add those to our video montage!  Please send them by 9/7 to leah.speer@gmail.com. Thanks!!

You love to drink wine.

You are a mom.

You long for just a moment of relaxation and maybe a little fun.

WE NEED YOUR HELP!

Inspire other moms to kick back, pour a glass of wine and ESCAPE!

“How?” you ask.

Just get a 5 second to 30 second video (SO EASY WITH THAT iPHONE OF YOURS!) of yourself enjoying your favorite go-to after a long day. Whether it’s that tall glass of red or refreshing glass of white. Girls’ night out, book club, bunko (have all the girls in one shot smiling and having a FAB time) or just you and the hubs on the back patio (he’ll gladly take a quickie of you with his phone, Miss Hot Thang!). Just you and your snuggie and The Real Housewives of New York City? No problem! Flip your iPad around and get a snapshot of yourself caressing that glass of vino!

The team here at Must.Have.Wine. are producing a video montage (set to the Black Eyed Peas song “I Gotta Feeling”) that we are going to post on YouTubeand send to every online Mom Magazine we can reach. Obviously, our hope is that it’ll go viral and thus send millions of people to our website (it’s being redesigned as you read this) so that millions and millions will buy our book Must.Have.Wine. when it is published in mid-October.

Send your videos or snapshots to Leah at leah.speer@gmail.com or post in on our Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/MustHaveWine/245052782182520?ref=hl

Just think, if it does go viral and they decide to show the clip on The Today Show, you can tell all your friends and family to look for you, you superstar!

DEADLINE TO BE A PART OF THIS EXTRAORDINARY EXPERIENCE September 7, 2012.

p.s. Extra bonus points if you are singing along to a part of the Black Eyed Peas song in your video!

Vintage Girls – Moms Need Their Best Girlfriends (Repost)

Original Post Date 9-24-11

vin·tage girls [vin-tij gurlz] noun

1.      girlfriends representing the high quality of a past time.

“Don't forget your sisters. They'll be more important as you get older. No matter how much you love your husband, no matter how much you love the children you may have, you are still going to need sisters.”

One of my vintage girls sent that to me (as part of a longer email) exactly when I needed to read it; as if she had it stored in a folder marked “For Leah’s Next Crisis.” 

I get so swept up in the manic day-to-day life with two toddlers running from playdate to store to potty to doctor and finally home again that the only time I can seem to find time to call my vintage girls is when I’m in the car for that 15- to 25-minute drive to wherever I am headed.  Even when I’m at home, a phone call is pretty much me telling my kids “no, not now” and “here you go” and “don’t do that to your brother” while trying to listen to my friend.  I care.  I really,  really do!  In fact, I’d give just about anything to drop my kids off at the best preschool in town and meet up with that old friend for a cup of coffee and maybe split a vanilla bean cheesecake while we dish about our adorable little ones.  As many women experience in today’s transient world, it’s not always easy to do, especially when your vintage girls live in other states, across the country or even abroad.       

Memories of these girls rush in as random tidbits in the crazy hours of my every day.  They are my rock.  They knew me best before my husband met me.  They know all of my quirks and are often the only ones who can tell me what I’m thinking or open my eyes to my mistakes or let me know how close I am getting to my life goals, even if I’m too close to see it. 

They are the ones who were there for me. 

Vintage girls call you out when you moved to a new city and tried out a new, brass attitude.  Vintage girls stand in line with you at 6:00 a.m. in 22 degree weather for a chance to get free tickets to your favorite Broadway show.  Vintage girls drive cross-country with you when you move out west with all of your belongings shoved into a Cavalier because you read “White Oleander” in the midst of a cold New York City winter.  Vintage girls still believed in you even when you made mistakes.  Vintage girls cheer you on when you are found success. Vintage girls keep in touch with you no matter how far away you move from them.  

They are the ones who are there for me.

Vintage girls are the ones who will tell you it is okay to be exhausted and feel like you can’t do everything once you’re a mommy.  Vintage girls will tell you not to believe a word from that book about sleep schedules and your happy baby. Vintage girls will tell you, I’ve been there. Vintage girls will identify with your situation with your toddler and share a relatable story about their preschooler. Vintage girls will make time for you when you really need it.  Vintage girls will reach out.  Vintage girls have a story about their husbands that make you feel better about living with yours.  Vintage girls will let you cry.  Vintage girls get it.

They are the ones who will be there for me.

When my kids start kindergarten, I know my vintage girls will be the ones to remind me to cherish the memories of their younger years and to embrace the challenges and excitement of the rest of our lives.  When I get a call from a teacher or a coach, I know my vintage girls will stand by me to remind me that we all make mistakes and our kids will work it out for themselves and still be great people. When my kids go off to college, I know my vintage girls will be there to fill the empty space and time – even if it means an all-expense paid trip to Turks and Caicos.  <wink><wink> When I’m in my retirement years and need a reminder of who I was and who I still want to be, I will turn to my vintage girls.

My vintage girls. The girlfriends I cherish, trust and love with all of my heart. Drinking a little wine tonight?  Raise a glass to that, sisters!

Today’s Forecast: Scattered Mom Likely

Original Post Date: 8-1-11

A peek inside the frenzied mind of an everyday mom:

Ah, my coffee.  We’re almost out of Splenda.  I’m going to have to remember to put that on my grocery list.  In fact, I need to make a run to Walmart today.  Let me start a list.  Where is the paper?  I thought I’d just put it in this drawer yesterday. 

What do you need, baby? Well, we’re having breakfast in about 10 minutes, just let me finish cutting these grapes.  Should I cut these grapes in fourths?  I’m going to just cut them all up now, then we’ll be good to go the rest of the week. Oh yeah, my coffee.  We’ve got plenty of cream to last the next week or two, that’s groovy.  And thanks to my dad for giving us a whole bag of his home-roasted Kona coffee beans.  That reminds me, I need to send him a thank you card.  I wonder if I have any cards left over from the last bunch I bought?  I’ll have to remember to look for one later, before I head over to the store. 

No, you may not have any chocolate.  If you eat your breakfast, I’ll think about giving you some chocolate milk.  Waffles!  I wonder if I should just go ahead and make a waffle for myself?  I know I was going to try and eat healthier today and cook up some scrambled egg whites, but this will save me time on cooking and dishes and well, it’s just easier.  What the hell, right?  I’ll make it up at lunch time with a salad.  I’m going to have to buy some fresh spinach though because I think what’s left in the fridge is bad.   As always, I’m so awful at letting vegetables spoil.  I know it drives Zac crazy.  Why isn’t he up yet? 

What happened to your clothes, young man?  You are supposed to go on a doggie walk with your father and I just got you dressed!  Go grab your undies!  There he is.  Good!  I’ll get five, maybe ten, minutes of quiet when he takes the boys and our dog for their morning walk.

No, seriously, I had him dressed just a minute ago.  I’m not going to spend my morning chasing him down 17 times to get him to keep his clothes on. Luke!  Grab your undies if you want to go for a doggie walk.  Otherwise, you’re going to stay here with me.

I’m so not going to stick to that threat!  I cherish these peaceful minutes.  I’ll check my e-mail once they leave.  I can start breakfast as soon as they get back.  I also need to look up our play date for today; I can’t remember if it’s at 3:00 p.m. or 3:30 p.m.  I hope it’s at 3:30 p.m., that always gives us – okay, bye, have fun. Be safe! – what was I just thinking?  Oh, I can’t remember.  Doesn’t matter anyway, I guess.  I have to go potty.  Did I just say potty?  But first, let me check my bank account to see if my little tiny paycheck went through.  I need to make sure my wallet is in my diaper bag too before I leave this morning.  I think I had it last when I met Susie at the movies and I really don’t remember transferring it back to the diaper bag.  Okay, good!  It’s in there.  I better go ahead and throw a couple of diapers in it now also.  I’m pretty sure I have to pick some of those up, too.

List!  I’ve got to start a list!  Finally!  Here’s some paper.  Milk.  Maybe a thank you card.  Diapers for ZZ.  What am I going to have for lunch today?  Oh, yeah, a salad.  Spinach.  I think I have everything else I need for lunch here. I could use some more Cherry Coke Zero.  Cherry Coke Zero.  Awesome!

My paycheck has gone through; I have money again!  Maybe I should buy Luke some new pool shoes from Once Upon A Child.  Does he really need pool shoes?  I can’t believe his birthday is coming up.  Well, it’ll be here before we know it after vacation in September.  That’s just eight weeks away.  And his birthday will be about six weeks after that.  What kind of party should we have? What’s he really into these days?  His daddy’s Jeep.  Can I have a Jeep party? What would that consist of?  I could get Diego plates and decorations but make his cake a Jeep cake and, well, then it’s a Diego party and not a Jeep party.  But I want it to be so special for him since we had a small affair last year.  What about a pool party?  In November?  Maybe a slight possibility since we’re in South Carolina, but nothing to count on.  I should see if there are any indoor pools in town.  I’m sure there won’t be since we are in SC, but maybe.  He loves the pool so much; he’d be in heaven!

Hey!  You’re back!  That was fast!  What happened to my quiet time?  I didn’t get anything accomplished.  Now I won’t have another moment of quiet until naptime and I’m not sure I can make that happen since Zealand woke up an hour before his brother.  I must try!  I’ll go to the grocery store right before lunch time and keep him awake!  What would you like from the store?  I hope my two favorite plates for the boys are clean.  They are not in the cabinet where they should be.  Not in the dishwasher.  I now know what my mom used to talk about when I was little when she’d tell us she was losing her mind because things are never in the place she left them.

Honey, where are the boys’ blue and green plates?  Ha!  I must’ve mindlessly grabbed them earlier when I first got to the kitchen.  I can’t believe they are sitting here right in front of me. Here you go boys: a waffle, grapes and yogurt.  It feels so good to sit down.  My boys are so sweet.  It looks like they’re hungry, too, which is always a good thing.  You know what would be perfect right now?  My coffee; which I haven’t touched since I poured it an hour ago.  Now where the heck is it?    

Which Season Are You Better At Mothering? Newborns, Infants, Toddlers, Preschoolers, etc.

Were you the perfect mom for a newborn?  Are you finding yourself with a knack for the testing toddlers? Maybe your crafty and playful side is a grand match with preschoolers versus your awkward days with infants. Who knows, you may be the meticulous, superstar soccer mom balancing school schedules, practices, recitals, dinner and bedtime. Or maybe you remember your wild teenage days which will keep you one step ahead of your raging teen.

Today, with my 3 1/2-year-old pushing the envelope at every waking moment, I'm starting to think this isn't my best inning in this game of parenthood. If this were Survivor , I'm pretty sure he's on the verge of outwitting, outplaying and outlasting me...even making a fool of me twice as I chased this naked little boy down in our neighborhood - and that was just today!

It wasn't long ago, though, I felt like a pro. Or maybe in hindsight I feel that way, though I probably didn't at the time. Keeping steady, I'd study my hand and play the right cards. I read all the books on raising happy babies and toddlers and kids. I could redirect rather than raise my voice. And he listened, brilliantly.

And then he turned two. He started testing me, but was a child of respect and "no" meant no and "don't" meant don't. Sure, he'd try all the crazy things boys like to do. He'd climb too high at the playground. He'd make me crazy trying to get him strapped in his car seat. He couldn't resist grabbing anything in his reach.

And now...he's 3.

And he's calling my bluff.

The book 1-2-3 Magic used to work like a charm for me. Now he counts to three for me. When we get to three, he laughs. I take him to his room for time out and he repeatedly opens his door - taunting me to give in or give up.  When I say "stay here" -he goes there. When I say "stop" -he runs.

The wildest part of this ride is that when he's not testing me, he's an angel.  The most polite, sweet little boy I've ever met. He thanks me for taking him to the park. He gives me many hugs throughout the day expressing "Mom, I just love you sooo much, I'm going to give you a great big hug now!" And he does.  And its wonderful. He likes to snuggle and he loves to read with me. But lest I leave just a moment of time for him to get bored or distracted...game on!

I've started reading more books on discipline and am trying to dedicate my every day to being consistent with my discipline and establishing a routine.  I know our big move has heightened sensitivities in our home and we've all been adapting.  This may not be my strongest season of motherhood, but I know overall I'm a great mom and there will always be moments like these test our whole soul.  And drive us just a little bit mad. So whether you're in your strongest quarter of your game or struggling to get through to the next period, remember that beyond everything you are a fantastic mom...otherwise you wouldn't care enough to worry about it!   At least that's my mom told me! ;)

Do You Lie To Your Kids?

"If you don't eat all your broccoli, you won't grow big like your daddy."  Are there good lies?  Or, rather, are little white lies okay?  On The Today Show yesterday, Ann Curry talked to two parenting experts about just this.  When is it alright to lie to these future adults?  Rachel Fishman Feddersen, editorial director at Parenting.com says 85% of moms in a recent survey have told these little white lies to their children to get out of social obligations.

I am very upfront and truthful with my children.  When we passed an ambulance at the scene of a messy car crash last summer, my son asked what was going on.  I explained to him that two cars crashed and someone maybe got hurt and they were going to go to the hospital where a doctor was sure to make the person feel better.  This was my way of being very direct with him, rather than saying, "Oh everything is just dandy...everyone is fine and life is a bed of roses.  Aren't those lights pretty!"  Though my directness probably led to his obsession and fascination with ambulances and hospital over the next several months.

But I admit to stretching the truth, too.  "Because it's getting dark soon and everyone is going to go home and eat dinner and go to bed."  That's how I explain we're leaving the park.  That's kind of a lie, isn't it?  Not everyone is going home to eat dinner and go to bed.  Some kids may stay longer.  Some kids may get to go out for ice cream.  Or how about a lie versus a probability.  "Get down from there!  If you climb on that you WILL fall and hurt your head and HAVE to go to the emergency room!"  When sure, there is a chance the child will fall and a chance he will hurt his head and yet another chance he might end up in the ER...but it's not a fact.

How about with Santa Claus?  The Easter Bunny?  The Milk Fairy?  The Milk Fairy? Yes, that's a lie I told. It's a fairy I made up.  The milk fairy comes in the middle of the night to take away your sippy of milk and leaves you a really groovy big boy cup of water.  Then every night after that, you drink water from your cup.  No more sippies at night.  Or how about the endless begging and pleading to watch their favorite cartoon which you have grown to despise.  "Oh no, sweetheart, doesn't look like Dora is on right now.  Doesn't look like it's on again until tomorrow.  Let's go paint!"  When secretly it's on now and for the next two hours on every damn cartoon channel and you're willing to go to many lengths to make sure it is not to be seen.

I believe we should be raising our kids to understand honesty and be a good person.  To tell the truth because it feels good and they know they are doing the right thing.  After all, we don't want to teach them to lie which will turn into stealing which will turn into them doing drugs and probably worse.  We don't want them to end up behind bars.  But sometimes the truth is stretched to bring magic into our kids lives or to make ours a little easier in the face of an imminent tantrum.  Of course, we can't forget that these little kids are actually very smart and intuitive too and can often see through our fibs.  What are the little white lies you tell your kids to get through your day?

**If you are a mom-or a person- who has gone through life without telling even a little white lie to help you along, we'd love to hear from you.  Please show us the way!

A Life of Purpose – Inspiring Guest Post from Cancer Survivor and Real Mom, Heather Von St. James

Written by Guest Blogger Heather Von St. James

When you learn you’ve been diagnosed with cancer, everything changes. Most people never expect to receive such a diagnosis, especially at the age of 36 and having just given birth 3 ½ months prior of your first child.

On Nov. 21, 2005, I was diagnosed with malignant pleural mesothelioma. 

There is nothing worse than hearing “You Have Cancer” during what it is perhaps supposed to be one of the best times of your life. 

Following my diagnosis, I basically felt as though I had two options: give up or curse God and wallow in self-pity screaming “Why Me God!?”

I also had another option: Face the cancer head on.

And that’s what I did. 

So, I decided to toss on those rose-colored glasses and do what any new mother would do: Fight with everything she had so she can watch her little girl grow up. Unfortunately, cancer is like a double-edged sword and anyone else who has been through it will say the same thing. 

While it can be the most devastating news you’ve ever heard, there are still some positives that come out of it as well. My life has now changed for the better because of having gone through cancer. This is simply because I decided I wasn’t going to be one of the victims. Instead, I chose to look at a terrible situation in a different light. It helped take the fear away and I vowed I would help others who were diagnosed with it as well. For whatever the reason, I decided to find the positives of the situation and was sent to see the world’s leading specialist for the disease. The doctor gave me hope.

I learned I was going to have my tumor removed on Groundhogs Day 2006. With that said, I decided to name my tumor Punxatawny Phil and renamed Groundhogs Day, Lungleavin Day. 

Today, we have a party every February and celebrate Lungleavin Day. 

Had it not been for my cancer diagnosis, I would’ve never gotten to know some of the amazing people I’ve met. They are among the strongest and toughest I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. These people are committed to raising awareness about the disease, which affects so many. From wives to husbands to sons and daughters; all of us know someone who has been affected by cancer is some way, shape or form.

Now my life is filled with more purpose than it has ever been and with that, I want to continue to do what I can to bring the same hope I felt to others.

Heather Von St. James is a guest blogger for the Mesothelioma Cancer Alliance.

The Anti-Chicken Fingers Movement - Penne Pasta Bake

Thanksgiving Eve...Christmas Eve...Or even when all the turkey and leftovers are gone this Sunday, turn to this quick and easy, very satisfying Italian meal.  Add another 1/2 lb of beef if you've got meat lovers in the house.  Serve with salad and garlic bread.  This is another recipe direct from my mom's kitchen, I changed it just a little from her original.  This is also a great dish to make ahead, freeze and then reheat.  A perfect solution to feed your family this holiday season or anytime of the year!  And don't forget the red wine!

Penne Pasta Bake

12 oz. penne pasta

1 lb. ground beef

1/2 onion, chopped

1 T oregano

1 bay leaf

15 oz. tomato sauce

14 oz. canned tomatoes, pureed

1 6 oz. can tomato paste

4 cups mozzarella cheese, shredded

Directions

Cook pasta according to directions. Drain. Cook meat and onion in large skillet until browned. Drain. Stir in tomato sauce, pureed tomatoes, tomato paste, spices and 1/2 cup water. Cook, stirring occasionally, 10 minutes. Remove bay leaf.  Layer half pasta, half sauce and half cheese in 13x9"" baking dish. Repeat. Cover and bake in preheated 350 degree oven for 20 minutes.

Buon Appetito!
Leah

Guilt Will Always Be There-Let Love Triumph!

“Stay at home or work.  It really doesn’t matter what you do…you’ll find a way to feel guilty about something either way. You just have to do what feels right to you and what works best for your family,” explains a very wise and dear friend of mine.  As we chat on the phone, I am staring out at the Space Needle from my luxurious, very quiet (aaah, I remember quiet) hotel room rubbing my almost-eight-months-pregnant belly. 

At the time, I wanted nothing more than to be a stay-at-home mom.  It had been my dream, even after ten years of exciting business trips and extravagant meals at the best restaurants across the country.  But there didn’t seem to be a practical way to make it work with one salary and two mortgages (we were living in Maryland and still owned our home in South Carolina).  Yet, it made me feel better simply by hearing my old friend, a college sorority sister who I’ve always respected and seems to do motherhood seamlessly as a successful working mom, tell me that all moms feel guilty about something, some of the time. 

Three years later.  I know this to be true.  No matter what you try to do right for your family or your children (or yourself); guilt will sneak its way in.  These are just some of the ways guilty mom syndrome kicks in…

The Working Mom

Her early morning thoughts: Today, I’m going to be the best mom ever! I’m going to work hard today to teach my kids how successful you can be in life; while also making money so we can have what we need to succeed in life, and hey, even a Disney Vacation or two.

Her guilt: I should be home with my kids doing crafts, flipping through sight words index cards, making them a healthy, home-cooked lunch and kissing them at naptime.

The Stay-At-Home Mom

Her early morning thoughts: Today, I’m going to be the best mom ever! I’m going to spend so much one-on-one time with my children today and give them love and affection, teach them about the world, and make a craft out of fall leaves and paint.  We’ll run around the house using our imagination, laughing the day away.  I will make them a healthy, home-cooked lunch before I kiss them at naptime.

Her guilt: I don’t have time to cook these kids a healthy, home-cooked lunch…there are toys all over this place, paint all over the table and chairs, and I can’t even get them to sit still for one minute to do our flash cards.  What if I’m playing with them too much and they won’t learn how to play independently?  I feel so guilty for wanting it to be naptime! 

The Work-At-Home Mom

Her early morning thoughts: Today, I’m going to be the best mom ever!  I’m going to balance playing with my kiddos and working on my business plan.  I’ll take some time to prepare a healthy, home-cooked lunch and snuggle with them before their two-hour nap. After naptime, we’ll

Her guilt: I just spent thirty minutes playing doctor and being locked up in jail.  I painted with them earlier today.  We’re going to the playground after naptime.  Yet I feel bad when I do steal a few minutes to get on my laptop.  Sometimes I can get up to 15 minutes, the rest of the time I feel like I’m neglecting them since I’m not playing with them 24/7.  They’d be happier in preschool, learning and playing with other kids.  The day is ticking by and if I want to get any work done, we’ll have to settle for Spaghetti Os, a cheese stick and green beans.  I guess I can get some work done during naptime and there is always after bedtime.

So there it is moms; guilt in its finest.  You can try to do the right thing and be the best mom ever, but there is always a flip-side of the picture.  You’re either doing too much or too little. 

As Trina and I try to balance our family lives and our working lives with following our dreams to write and build our business, we are faced with guilt in every turn.  In fact, don’t be surprised to see us write about this very subject many times (see Trina’s post: Working Mommies, Let Go of the Guilt). We deal with this every day.  We know that the time, effort and long nights we put into our passion will eventually pay off.  But the guilt is a struggle.

What we have figured out is let the simple, beautiful moments-the ones that really matter-slay the guilt. When your child walks into the room and they can see the sparkle in your eyes that you’re truly happy to see them; with each meal shared with them; the attention you give them when they’re holding that invisible microphone and shaking their groove thing for their favorite audience; when they can feel your love as you hold them tight at night reading them their last bedtime story; with each kiss and I love you whispered in their ear.

Guilt will always be there…let love triumph!

How have you experienced guilt as a mommy?  Please share...knowing other moms feel this way can make us all feel just that much better!

Please Promise To - What We Provide Them With Today May Brighten The Path To Our Promises

Newborn

Mother - I promise to give you all the love and care you will ever need and more. 

Age 2

Mother - I promise you’ll have a great big grassy yard to play in.

Child – Please promise to spend quality time with me, whether it’s inside at home or outside at the park.    

Age 3 

Mother - I promise I’ll give you a little sister or brother.

Child – Please promise to have me socialize with other children my age and not just sit me in front of the television all day.      

Age 5

Mother - I promise you I’ll send you to the best school.

Child – Please promise to spend one-on-one time with me after school helping me with my homework and teaching me all that you know.

Age 10

Mother - I promise I’ll take you to Disney World.

Child – Please promise to really listen to me, support my interests and let me explore my independence.

Age 13

Mother - I promise I’ll buy you all the right clothes.

Child – Please promise to teach me to be confident in myself, no matter what I’m wearing.

Age 16

Mother - I promise I’ll buy you a car.

Child – Please promise to teach me how to save money and earn the things that I want to have.

Age 18

Mother - I promise I’ll send you to the University of your choosing.

Child – Please promise to carve a path for me to do well in school so I may earn scholarships to get me through college.

             

Mothers make a simple promise to their newborn - to love them and care for them, no matter what it takes.  It doesn’t take long, however, for more complicated hopes and dreams to take focus in our mind.  Yet, with unexpected economic heartbreak, career detours, and everyday challenges that life is sure to deliver-and does; some of the promises we make to our children may feel like illusions.

It is through our disappointments we must realize that if we’re providing our kids with the essentials of love and security, they will survive.  More than likely, if we are the type of mothers that even have these worries; these children will thrive.  Isn’t it true that what we’re already providing them is all they really need?

We can get so hung up on giving them all the bells and whistles- the best schools, mind-blowing vacations and the trendiest clothes, but what really matters are the simple times you spend with them and enjoying each moment in our today.

It’s All in the Aim - A Potty Training Success Story

I was proud of my son who’d gotten the hang of potty training at 18 months.  By 22 months, he was a pro!  We were even leaving the house in our undies, taking the extra time to stop in the public bathrooms (or the secluded tree at the park) so he could go when he had to.  Now he’s two years old, and one day I couldn’t believe what I was seeing when I turned the corner into the kitchen and saw my little boy standing there, naked from the waist-down, with slightly bent knees, precisely peeing into the Mega Blok toy he held out in front of him.

   I laughed and told him he shouldn’t do that, that we only pee in the potty…but secretly, I was proud.  Until the next day, that is, when I caught him aiming for his beach pail he’d purposely placed on the floor.  This time, I had to act stern and guide him to the potty.  Over the course of the next week, probably no thanks to my initial reaction, I caught him aiming for all sorts of toys with a look of pride on his face.  Funny as it was to me the first couple of times, it was starting to grow old.  I had a serious talk with him, as serious as a talk can be at 24 months, and in just a few days, he was focused on the potty again.  Almost three now, he still occasionally pulls down his pants and smile…waiting for a reaction. 

The Anti-Chicken Fingers Movement - Cilantro Lime Chicken

This is one of my favorite recipes!  Something about the combination of lime and cilantro...along with an ice cold beer...can make any stressful day seem like a day at the beach.   

Cilantro Lime Chicken

4 skinless, boneless chicken breast halves

1 bunch fresh cilantro, finely chopped

¾ cup shredded Monterey jack cheese

1 lime, juiced

2 Tbsp olive oil

4 tsp parmesan

2 tsp red pepper flakes

Salt

Pepper

Directions

1.      Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Slice a chicken breast in half lengthwise, leaving the halves attached on one side. Open and pound flat to 1/8-in. thickness; sprinkle both sides with salt and pepper to taste. Repeat with remaining chicken breasts.

2.      Sprinkle one side of chicken breast evenly with 1 tablespoon of cilantro. At one end of each breast, place 2 tablespoons shredded cheese. Roll each breast up, starting on the side with the cheese. Insert a toothpick in each roll to prevent unrolling. Combine lime juice and olive oil and brush evenly over each chicken roll. Sprinkle each roll with 1 teaspoon parmesan cheese and a ½ teaspoon of red pepper flakes. Place in baking dish. Cover.

3.      Bake in preheated oven for 35 minutes. Uncover, sprinkle 1 teaspoon of shredded cheese over each roll and bake for 10 minutes more or until chicken juices run clear. Discard toothpicks.

4.      With the vibrant taste of cilantro and a hint of lime, this dish is a refreshingly healthy way to cure your craving for a taste of Mexico. Plus, the red pepper flakes add that little special zing.

Buon appetito!

The Competitive Mom In Each Of Us

I love this time of year!  The crisp warmth of the sun lets us know autumn is soon to arrive. We’re shuttling our kiddos to their after-school sports.  Maybe this is your first sports season as the proud mom.  Beware.  The competitive mom lives inside of each of us.  It’s what you do with her that counts.  Here is how I found that person inside of me. 

On this particularly sweltering Easter Sunday in South Carolina, my parents and I, along with my two toddlers ventured out to our first-ever Easter egg hunt.  Jump castles, face painting and games galore were scattered across a great, green lawn behind a church right in town.  Thankfully, ice water stations were abundant and I didn’t have to worry as much about my father or my boys. 

The jumpy house for toddlers had the fewest in line.  It always seems awkward–you throw your little tyke into an enclosure of mesh so he can bounce into a mess of strange, random little kids.  We smile at them from the outside; patiently watching them go up and down, side to side, even get a little trample or two. Before long they’re bored and they slide out. 

My 15-month old was too young to participate in the egg hunt, which I soon would realize why—so he stayed with my parents in the shade of some pines.  I found our designated spot and prepared for the hunt.  As we lined up, a various mixture of moms and dads with one or more children, I realized we still had time to wait before the ribbon was cut. 

Under the hot sun, 20 minutes ticks by, seemingly longer than it does at the while you’re waiting in the doctor’s office wearing a paper dress.  How do you explain the time issue to an excitable toddler who can see hundreds of colorful eggs lying just in front of us?   As we stand, beads of sweat forming on my brow, a direct order from the sun; adults readied, closing in tighter and tighter at the ribbon, waiting for the volunteers to cut it already.  I wanted my boy to get a lot of eggs.  But I worried about the other parents.  Did they have a plan?  So…quickly I devised one.  We will book it, Ninja-Warrior style, to the middle and I’d kick eggs to my boy who will swiftly scoop them into our basket.  I told my two-year-old of our master plan.

Finally, we see a chopper nearing us.  The draw to this particular egg hunt was the promise of a helicopter flying direct and low over our field of eggs.  Sure enough, they followed through as promised.  This moment elated me as I saw my son’s eyes fill with wonder as his hair wisped a dance of excitement; the little bunny nose they’d hand painted on his cheek now smudging down his smiling little face.  We cheered as the helicopter dropped those colorful plastic eggs into the roped-off hunt zone that beckoned us to begin!  As it flew off, I was suddenly aware of butterflies in my stomach.  What was this feeling?  I just wanted to make darned sure my happy little boy stayed this way and grabbed his worth in eggs.

This was the moment, folks; the birth of my parental competitiveness.  I’d seen it on TV with pageant moms and baseball dads.  I didn’t know I had it in me.  But suddenly, with my legs poised for the race, I had one mission.  GET. LOTS. OF. EGGS.  In my imagination, I held my son like an NFL running back with a football, heading for the end zone. I don’t remember the ribbon coming down; I just remember blocking and ducking and kicking and scooping.  With about 30 eggs in my basket, I felt triumph!  We won!  I cheered with my son who could’ve cared less if we had gotten 10 eggs.  I was proud.  Oh, the glory!

Almost immediately, the guilt kicked in.  Was that poor sportsmanship or was I defending my little son against those rascally four-year-olds?   I decided I needed to redeem myself, so I kneeled down to my son’s level and told him to look for a little girl who didn’t have any eggs–or very few eggs–and to give her some of ours…what’s wrong with me???  I’m even calling these eggs ours, instead of his. 

Ultimately, the arrival of this competitive mom surprised me and I’m intrigued to learn more about her.  I know she will come in handy when it comes to my children’s grades and their utmost success.  Though I also know I need to keep it in check and not become one of those moms!

Go on out there!  Proudly shout out your child’s name!  Encourage them.  Ultimately, just remember to be gracious and respect the other kids and parents out there.  Even if it means giving up a few eggs.

Moms Raising Boys and Their Endless Energy...The Boys; Not So Much The Moms

One of the things I dreamt about most when I dreamed of having children was reading to them in bed, all snuggled beneath the covers, with their heads resting on me. 

   They are 2 ½ and 1 ½ and I’m still waiting for this particular dream of mine to unfold.  You see, I have two boys.  I started reading to each of them when they were in my belly.  Now, the readings have become a part of our bedtime ritual.  It was getting pretty exciting when Luke started to learn words and we’d slowly browse through a book – I’d point to a picture and he’d holler out the matching word.  As Luke learned the alphabet, we’d search the pages for letters he recognized.  That was the extent of our readings.  I knew that any day now, with excitement, he’d want to start reading the stories along with me. 

   This summer, we got him a sturdy, Cars toddler bed (within the first hour the Cars sticker was ripped off).  That night, I climbed into his red bed adorned with Toy Story sheets and he hopped in right next to me.  This is it, I thought, anticipating the big moment.  I pulled the sheets up over us, opened the book and began to read the first page of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.  Little brother Zealand—hearing me reading, decided to climb up, too.  How exciting!  He crawled over me, his knees poking my shin; toenails scraping over my thigh.  But he found a spot, and there we were.  I pulled the sheet up over us and reread the first page so Zealand wouldn’t miss a thing. 

   On page three, the hungry little blonde comes across the porridge.  Luke had turned his body 90 degrees with his feet propped on his bedside table.  He was revving his engine apparently, ‘brrrm brrrrm’ as he announced he was a car and going really, really fast.  Zealand was tugging and bending and shoving the page I was trying to read.  He had a mission to destroy the page, not read it.  I swiftly pulled the book from his grip as if I were a three-year-old on the playground, rightfully grabbing back my toy.  He pulled himself to his feet and began to bounce away.  Then, Luke flipped over in a millisecond and jumped out of bed, his elbow flailing into my chest, his other hand smashing my stomach flat, and snatched the book. 

   “No more book, Mommy!” he announced. 

   I was heartbroken!  My cozy little dream.  Then just frustrated… 

   I yanked the book back and said in my stern mommy voice, “We are going to sit here and read this book, right now, or I am going to leave this room!”  That voice is usually saved for moments when he hits his brother or when Zealand tries to scale the entertainment center.  I quickly realized it would take more than a new toddler bed to sway these boys from their inherent verve. 

   Defeated, I looked at them, opened my arms out to the room, inviting them to run and play, and pulled myself up on the bed.  I made a comfy spot and read the familiar story of a broken chair and a little girl fast asleep.  In the background, I heard car noises—helicopter noises, a basketball bouncing off the wall,  the sound of Zealand climbing up the outside of his crib, the click of the fan being turned on and off, then on again, and their loud, boyish laughter.  

   I remembered some of the many conversations I’d had with my friends who had daughters.  The majority of them will cuddle up for book after book after book.   As I glance up, I wish that at least one of them would want to sit still and read with me…but seeing the joy on their faces as they play with one another into the wee moments before bed, well, I'll be darned if that doesn't delight me!