Still

I'm no poet, but every once in a while, I like to try my hand at poetry.  This topic's been tugging at my heart lately, even though it happened nearly twelve years ago.  I call this one, "Still."

Still
You were still
No moving
No crying
Still

Still
Still I held you
Still I loved you
Still I wept
Still

Still I wonder
Still I miss you
Still I imagine your face
Your eyes, your smile, your nose
I see you in my dreams
Your curls, your hands, your toes
I remember the butterfly kicks
Would you be short, like your older sister?
Tall, like your younger one?
Maybe in between them--average height?
You were, after all, the middle sister,
My middle child.

Still I cry, sometimes.
Still I miss you
Though I never knew you--

But I knew you.

Still remembering
The hope I had
Still wishing
Still wanting
Still

Still I cry
Still I mourn
Still I remember

Still
Still...

Still I smile
Still, I hold your sisters
Still, I love blue skies and sunshine
And sometimes, the feel of raindrops
Still, I celebrate your life
Still, I thank God
For you.

Still.

In Pursuit of Perfection (Why Mothering with All You've Got is Sometimes All You Need)

The other day, one of my best girlfriends texted me.  We've been friends longer than many of the college students I teach have been celebrating birthdays, though life has taken us on fairly different paths.  I became a mother about ten years before she did, but when she joined the club, she did so with fervent commitment:  her two boys are only about a year apart.  Any mama who can handle this (and kudos to all of you out there who do, including my own mother, as my brothers and I were all born within about four years of each other) deserves a medal.  It's hard enough having one kid in diapers, but when you have two tiny ones, as much of a blessing as that is, it's obviously double the trouble.  By the time Rashieme and I added to our family, our oldest daughter was on the brink of middle school, so obviously, that's a totally different experience.

My friend has a somewhat unique situation though--her husband works out of town about half the year.  So not only is she dealing with the already heightened pressures and responsibilities of caring for two completely dependent human beings, but much of the time, she is doing it on her own.  I recognize that this experience is not necessarily out of the ordinary--there are many families out there where one spouse is serving our country and required to be absent from the home for months at a time.  Still other occupations require extensive travel.  And then there are those of us who are single parents, whether by choice or circumstances, with varying levels of support from the co-parent (if (s)he is still in the picture) and/or other family members.

I did the single parent thing for several years when Rashieme and I were apart.  Fortunately for me, we both were always involved in all aspects of Kaliah's life when she was younger.  We split custody without going to the court system.  We co-parented well, even when our relationship with each other was quite broken.

My friend's experience as the only parent in the home for a good chunk of her time reminds me of my days as a single mama, even though she and her husband are "separated" for an entirely different reason, and their relationship is as strong as ever.  But I think about how often, she doesn't get a break.  How she is the one in the trenches through diapering and stomach bugs, she is the one dealing with the monotony of laundry and bottles and meal prep, she is the one who must be on the go from start to finish all day long, often without fifteen minutes for herself for a shower, or perhaps even five minutes without interruption to pee in peace.

When Rashieme and I went through our time apart, we were 100% on when it was our turn to be with our daughter.  But we also got a break when it was the other parent's turn.

For me, the break was both good and bad.  I missed my daughter terribly (and Rashieme, for that matter).  But I also had time to myself that I probably wouldn't have otherwise had to read, go out with my girlfriends, or enjoy a glass of wine with my favorite TV show.

I recognize that for many of the single parents out there, those who are widowed or those whose former partners are not involved, a week off is not a reality.  It's similar for my friend--she is a full-time mama when her husband is away, and though he is an amazing father and shares the parenting responsibilities when he returns, she is still a full-time mama when he is home, PLUS her attention is divided as she strives to be a supportive wife.

As I think about the challenges she faces and the blessings she enjoys, I realize there are ups and downs to just about every situation.  With Rashieme and I, we basically are in a polar opposite situation.  He is the stay at home dad, but my schedule is also quite flexible.  I try to give him as much of a break from the hands-on nitty-gritty as I can when I'm home, and he also is patient and understanding if I need to stay an extra hour at the office to catch up on stuff, or if I'm spent for the day, he tells me to go to bed early, even if he was the one at home with the kids all day.  I love it, and it works for us, but we also don't have near the financial security as many couples our age, given that my occupation, teaching, which I love, is not typically thought of as lucrative enough to enable one to be a primary breadwinner.  We make it work, and we love our lives, as I am sure my friend with two under the age of four loves her life.

But all this to say:  No matter how many kids you have, no matter what your marital status, no matter how old the children are, or whether you work or stay home:

Parenting is hard.

When my friend texted me, she shared her very real frustrations upon stumbling upon a latest piece of parenting advice, some well-intentioned guideline that recommended a perhaps surprising number of hours spent outside per day.  As all of us moms probably think, but not all of us probably admit to, her main reaction was basically:  Well, that's great in theory.  But with everything else I'm expected to do, when the bleep and how the bleep am I supposed to make that happen?

Which got me thinking.

There are so many ridiculous do's and do not's in mothering, most of them stemming from reasonable ideas and legitimate desires to keep our children healthy and happy.  But our culture blows them so out of proportion that eventually, even if you are as confident as Mary Poppins in your child-caring abilities, you may find yourself questioning your capability as a mom.

Because all of the guidelines that are out there, even the most reasonable ones, are basically impossible to follow when you try to follow them all.  Some of these best practices contradict other solid information, but even the guidelines that don't violate other suggestions cannot possibly be adhered to all of the time, in conjunction with all the others.

We put so much pressure on ourselves as moms.  A lot of this comes from our culture, which encourages perfection and achievement across all areas of our lives.  We feel it especially when it comes to our kids, because they are (and should be) our most important responsibilities on this planet.

So in thinking of the never ending onslaught of well-meaning advice that comes from parenting experts, family members, onlookers, educators, and loud mouths on social media, most of it containing at least some semblance of reason, I offer the following mockery, in an attempt to illustrate just how crazy we can make ourselves when we try too hard to do everything right.  Lest you be offended, let me first say that the following list is intended as a JOKE, and yes, I do realize that most (not all) of what I've written here does poke fun at legitimate advice, and that if you do some of the things on this list (within reason), I am not trying to attack your parenting.  I'm merely trying to point out that at the end of the day, all of the do's and don't's in the world can be an exhausting, overwhelming, and sometimes contradictory bottomless pit of information that would be an easy recipe to drive any mother bonkers.  The vast majority of suggestions can be attempted or disregarded, and that is a personal decision.  I think you should do what works best for you as a mom, with what works within your parenting style, and for your kids, as they are unique and beautiful human beings.

But because I couldn't stop myself, I assembled a list of 20 Suggestions to help you Be the Perfect Mom.  If you decide to start reading, I highly recommend you read all the way on to number twenty (or at least, skip to the end).

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

How to Be the Perfect Mom

1.  Never feed little Johnny or Suzi anything too sugary, too fattening, too loaded with carbs, too flavored with artificial flavorings or colorings, or any vegetable or fruit grown anywhere that utilizes pesticides or any chemicals designed to make the food actually grow.  Fast food is obviously un-allowed, as are all foods children actually like (i.e., chicken nuggets, hotdogs, Kraft macaroni and cheese). If you really want to be a great mom, go vegetarian, or better yet vegan, but whatever you do, go fully organic.  Bonus points if you can grow 1000% of your meals in your backyard.

2.      Begin looking for your child’s special gift shortly after birth.  Quickly decide:  Will he be a professional NBA player?  A famous writer or artist?  Will she dance with Julliard?  Cheerlead for the Dallas Cowboys?  Better hurry up, the sooner you identify the gift, the sooner you can spend oodles of your money forcing your child to play clarinet or walk the balance beam.  You are doing an especially good job if you determine their lifelong hobby before they can walk.  Or better yet, talk.  Then they can’t argue with you about it.

3.      Never admit that your child does anything wrong, ever.  He or she is your special little genius, and you must not allow any well-intentioned teacher, pastor, or police officer to interfere with your little angel’s self-esteem.  How will the world react if your child serves a single detention for one lapse of judgement, in elementary school?  Childhood must become a mistake-free zone, and if your child screws up and makes one, you must begin damage control immediately! Social media must be a land of perfect children.  What will Facebook say if they know your child wasn’t the first in her class to read?

4.      Speaking of reading, read to your kids constantly.  They must be familiar with all the classics before beginning schooling:  I.e., Good Night Moon, The Don’t Let the Pigeon series, Great Expectations, The Complete Works of Flannery O’Connor, The Quintessential Shakespeare.  You know.  The usual.  Start with the Shakespeare while you’re still pregnant.  Then you can finish before your child is old enough to ask questions you can’t answer.

5.      Make Pinterest your Bible.  Learn how to craft, bake, and decorate better than the Mom next store.  Carefully document all your success by posting photos of your crafting, baking, and decorating accomplishments to Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and whatever other newfangled technology comes out that you must also become fluent in, lest your child learns how to work it before you, leaving you unable to monitor his or her social media.

6.      Speaking of screen time:  LIMIT IT!  Never mind that iPads and smartphones are essential to functioning in today’s society—you must make sure your children’s time isn’t monopolized by screens (even if you limit them to learning apps and educational videos).  Two hours a week is obviously two hours a week you are giving to the DEVIL.

7.      Since they can’t learn technological skills they need, or you will be considered a bad parent, force them to play outside.  Never mind that outside is filled with strangers, Lyme’s disease, and spiders.  Children need healthy air to fill their lungs (so hopefully you don’t live in the majority area of the country that is filled with smog or pollen), and they need their vitamin D from the sun (but they don’t need skin cancer!  So lather them up with SPF 800 every 20 minutes.  And bug spray.  Spray them with bug spray so that they stink so badly, there’s no way you’ll be tempted to allow them to skip their nightly bath, another sign of substandard parenting).

8.      While they’re outside, make them run.  Teach them to play tag, hide and seek, kickball, dodgeball, and all of the other lost art forms that were hallmarks for those of us who grew up in the nineties and earlier.  I mean, if they don’t learn how to deal with a dodgeball to the face by age 6, what kind of pansy are you raising?

9.      Don’t let your boys cry.  Teach them that boys must be strong.  By strong, we mean humans that pretend they are incapable of feeling emotion, and can therefore never express any signs of weakness ever.

10.  Speaking of boys, discourage all other signs of behavior that indicate any reason someone might question his manliness.  Disallow dancing, cooking, and playing with dolls (even though all women everywhere agree that a man who can dance is sexy, a man who can cook is a Godsend, and a man who enjoys being a good father is the definition of a family man, and what many of us who want to be mothers most look for in a partner).

11.  Don’t forget your girls!  They aren’t allowed to do anything manly.  Discourage familiarity with tools, involvement in contact sports, and all things automotive.  God forbid you teach them life skills that their future husband should handle (even though she might choose to be single).  Or encourage participation in athletics that develop character or understanding of teamwork.  You don’t want her to mess up her make-up.  Which is another issue of concern:  Be careful here, because if you encourage it too early, you’re raising a Jezebel.  If you wait too late, she won’t know how to do her make-up, and she won’t be able to find a date to the prom, or later, a good college boy who wants to make sure everything you spent on her bachelor’s degree is for naught, as he seeks to make her stay home and start popping out babies.  And then, her life will be ruined and you will have failed as a parent.

12.  Breastfeed your baby.  Breast is best!  Haven’t you heard there are eight million benefits and children who aren’t breastfed grow up at higher risk for every single ailment under the sun, including a whole slew of conditions you’ve never even heard of!?!?

13.  BUT don’t let your boobs show evidence that their primary function is or has ever been anything other than arousing men.  Get a boob job as soon as possible after you cease breast feeding.  Wear a push up bra all day everyday until you can afford one, if finances are tight.

14.  The jury is still out on breastfeeding in public.  On the one hand, public breastfeeding shatters the illusion that your breasts are ever used for anything other than sexual play, violating principle #13.  But on the other hand, breastfeeding in public demonstrates your commitment to the aforementioned guideline #12.  It also allows you to crusade for breastfeeding rights, and to feed your child uncovered whenever and wherever you wish.  You get to yell at strangers you make uncomfortable, demanding, “Would YOU like to eat your lunch in the bathroom??” when they suggest you move the baby’s dinner party to the restroom. 

15.  Make sure you have a harrowing birth experience story to tell.  Tell it everywhere you can, but especially tell it to terrified expectant mothers.  Bonus points if you almost died on the table.  Everyone respects a mother more if she almost died on the table giving birth.

16.  But also, have at least one child naturally.  Refuse all pain medication, even when you get to the point that you personally want to go back in time, find Eve, kill her, and tell Adam not to dare eat that blessed apple, lest all women everywhere suffer labor pains because of one bad decision on one broud’s part.  Breathe through the pain.  Bounce on a ball or jump in the tub.  Have a water birth!  You are at one with the universe; never mind that this hurts like a mother, like a 1,352 on a pain scale from 1-10.  People respect a mother who gave birth naturally.

17.  Have only one child.  Anyone who has more than one child is clearly being selfish and shortsighted, because now all the children must learn to share, and your resources (which, let’s be real, no matter how well-off you are, are never endless) can no longer solely be devoted to your little angel.

18.  Have more than one child.  Anyone who has only one child is clearly being selfish and shortsighted, because putting all your resources into one child will spoil your only child like a rotten fruit, and one day you and your spouse will be gone and your poor only child won’t have any siblings to reminisce with.

19.  Be the room mom.  Be the best darn room mom that ever was.  At every possible opportunity, organize committees to address everything from provision of snacks to chaperoning eligibility for both dances and field trips, to raising money for every possible reason you can raise money.  Decide on the most obnoxious fundraisers available, and select the most random products on the market to sell at the highest cost, with only a portion of the donations going to whatever program or cause benefits (marginally) from the sale of popcorn, pizza, candy, or wrapping paper, all of which is ridiculously overpriced.  Run the classroom like you’d be in charge of a group of soldiers—the ship cannot be too tight!  Chase down every parent and force them to donate time or money or both, even if you’ve got a room full of single moms or dads who work two jobs just to survive.  If anyone tries to avoid volunteering or charitable giving, listen patiently to their excuse before you make a snarky comment that is a clear, direct attack on her commitment to her children.

20.  Obviously, all of the above guidelines are total crap.  You will be the perfect mom for your children if you love them, and if day after day, you are doing the best you can.  Volunteer—when you can.  Feed them in as healthy a way as you are able.  Breastfeed them if you can, but remember, a huge segment of the population was bottle-fed, and the vast majority of those people are doing just fine.  If you are a baker, bake.  If you are a decorator, decorate.  If you like crafts, craft till you’re blue in the face.  If those aren’t your talents, don’t worry!  Something is.  And your child loves you for you, so long as you are giving them your time.  There may be seasons where you have less of it, especially if you are a single parent.  It takes a village, so ask for help.  Let your children live and learn, and let them learn consequences.  Don’t protect them from every challenge—learn when to step in and when little Johnny or Suzi needs to understand that they are free to choose their actions, but we are never free from consequences.  Love them.  Sometimes love is tough, and sometimes, it is the most natural thing in the world.  Real love supports your children, no matter their interests and talents.  Real love helps develop those passions without becoming overbearing.  Real love is in the mother-child bond, and you will get there, even if you are having the worst case of post-partum depression there ever was—ask for help.  None of this is easy, even if the mom who bakes makes cookies that make yours look sad, even if the mom next door has a house that’s cleaner than yours, even if the mom down the street got her pre-pregnancy body back and you didn’t.  We all struggle with something.  Don’t feel guilty about being a stay-at-home mama who still can’t keep the kitchen spotless.  Don’t give yourself grief if you couldn’t afford to stay home, or, heck, WANTED to work. This doesn’t make you less of a mother, just like those who stay at home aren’t in any way contributing less to their households.

We are all good at some things. We all struggle in other areas.  Embrace your strengths.  Admit your weaknesses.  Love your children for the unique individuals that they are, just as they will surely love you for being the only woman in the world who could ever possibly be their mom.

Thoughts on Writing Part III... (The Potty Training Edition)

Potty training is on my mind today.

I wrote a funny piece about it, the process of potty training our youngest, and, actually, I am super excited to announce that its publication will be forthcoming in a hilarious collection of humorous literature online called Defenestration.  But in thinking about writing that piece (and dealing with the daily victories, frustrations, setbacks, and learning that is potty training), I’ve been thinking about how much of what I’ve learned about writing is similar.

So, for today’s reflections, here are six lessons learned about writing that also apply to potty training.

13.  Celebrate the small successes.  Joy hath no depth greater than that of a toddler telling her daddy she pee-peed on the potty.  We’d all be wise to celebrate accomplishments that, much like peeing on the potty, have gotten a bit routine over the years.  For writers, celebrate success however you can--share the good news with other writers, friends, your family--whoever will be excited for you.  

14.  Realize you’re going to get messy.  I won’t get into the details of the analogy to potty training here, as it’s both graphic and obvious.  But writing is the same way, whether you’re seeking publication or not.  Writing about painful memories is messy.  Getting rejected is a crappy feeling. Be prepared for it, and know it is perfectly normal.

15.  Reward yourself.  With Shay, we award her with a song and dance routine that reflects our joyous celebration of her successful use of the toilet.  And, often, we also give her a cookie.  Figure out what your goals as a writer are, and when possible, reward yourself for meeting goals, for sticking to your schedule, for landing a "no" that wasn’t a flat out form rejection.  Have a cookie.  A glass of wine.  A night out with friends, a pair of new shoes.  Heck, hang a favorite sentence on your fridge, and then reward yourself with something yummy inside of it.

16.  Speaking of sentences on the fridge:  Be your own validation.  My two-and-a-half-year-old, Shay, often exclaims, “Big girl!”  It’s both lovely and admirable, the sheer confidence she has in herself, the truth she feels in that statement, as she declares herself to be a big girl.  I mean, she’s wearing the panties!  Who am I to argue with her?  We struggling writers should remind ourselves:  “We’re writers!” No publisher, agent, teacher, or critic can tell us that we’re not, even if we’re not yet as successful as we long to be.

17.  Deny yourself.  (I know, exactly the opposite of number 15).  But with Shay on the potty, we don’t always allow her everything she wants—we sometimes hold out.  I’ll tell her she can’t have more juice until she uses the potty.  As writers, what can we deny or delay until we’ve reached our goals?  For me, in the summer, maybe I'll forgo a morning at the beach to finish revising a draft. (And then I can have an afternoon at the beach!)

18.  And about that—set some goals!  Maybe they’re obvious and you don’t need to write them down.  For example, I don’t need to write down that my hope for Shay is that her underwear stay clean all day, just like I don’t need to put it in print that I’m going to write five pages each day—I wake up knowing that is my goal!  But perhaps it will be helpful to write down an objective or two: Write a story that makes my kid laugh.  Be published in a particular publication.  Write a novel in x amount of time.  In other areas of my life, I’ve written down a goal and pinned it above my desk where I’ll see it every day.  That might be helpful for some aspiring writers, and you know what?  Maybe I’ll take my own advice, set some new writing goals, and tack them up above my desk or tape them to my mirror.  Just like I love crossing items off a to-do list, I am all about looking at bigger "to dos" and realizing that they have become "Done."

So while I'm thinking about my next steps, and what big To Dos I'm going to be brave enough to write down.... In the meantime, I’m going to try to keep my big girl dry in her big girl panties!  Stay well everyone—keep writing, mom-ing, and whatever else it is you are doing.

Shaylin acting modest... she's a VERY big girl!

Never Underestimate the Power of Stupid

In the name of love (or pride, or a desire to not lose, or any other number of things), people can do some pretty stupid stuff. 

Case in point:  Yesterday, my family and I were spending some quality time at Martinak State Park, a lovely wooded area resting on the Choptank River, where Rashieme and I plan on getting married this summer.  This quiet state park features trees and shade and sunshine and trails and, to my daughter's delight, several playgrounds.  We were checking out each one as we had spent the day with Shieme's mom and were now just a few hours away from a meeting with a local restaurant owner, whose establishment we were checking out as a possible venue for a reception location.  Knowing we were having this meeting, I had opted to wear a sundress and cloth slip-on flats.

Being that I was dressed up, I opted out of Rashieme and Kaliah's game of tag at the first playground, which began with hysterical laughter and blissful joy and then eventually ended in tears because, much like her mommy, Kaliah does not like to lose.  We ventured on to the second playground which featured a tall spiral slide that looked promising, but unfortunately was not all that slippery, and Kaliah slid down with a dismal look on her face that made it clear that she'd rather be practicing fractions.  So off we went to the third location, where we discovered a completely in-tact piece of playground equipment that featured several different entrances/exits:  slides, monkey-bar style extensions, a rock climbing wall, etc.

Kaliah immediately came up with the idea of an obstacle course.  She explained that we would have to each take a turn using each of the "exits" and whoever could successful exit all avenues of the equipment the fastest would be declared the winner.  I certainly wasn't dressed for it, but what can I say?  One should never underestimate the power of stupid.  I'd like to claim that I did it out of my love for my child and desire to bond with her and spend quality time making memories.

But the truth is, I probably just wanted to win.

For those of you who don't know me, I am stupid competitive.

So her daddy yelled go, and off we went.  On the very first small slide, I struggled to keep my skirt covering everything it should cover, then scrambled back to the steps of the main entrance to navigate the next exit.  Despite my shaky start, Kaliah and I were neck and neck.  My long legs worked to my advantage, as did my height, when it came to jumping from certain points instead of climbing down.

We were maybe two minutes in, both running out of breath, both laughing and scampering about, and I was down to one remaining obstacle.  But first I had to re-enter the equipment.  Seeing that my daughter was already on the main entrance, (the steps), and deciding to go around her and cut in front of her, I opted to climb a short slide instead of race around, putting myself behind her.  As I jumped on the slide and began striding upwards, I immediately realized the error of my ways, as my cloth shoes had absolutely no traction and I began slipping back down, like a surfer skimming a wave.  I tried to stop the momentum, but somehow my legs got tangled up and I went sailing over backwards, falling with a resounding thud, as I crashed down on my legs, back, and shoulder, head clunking down into the stupid wood shavings that always line these kinds of play ground.

"Alright, you're done," Daddy the referee announced, shaking his head as he strode over to help me up.  Meanwhile Kaliah was shrieking in amazement and I was laughing so hard I was almost crying.  Rashieme pulled me to my feet, and both of them went to work brushing the wood chips from my sweater, dress, and hair.

"We've got a meeting in an hour.  'What happened to her?' 'Playground accident?'" Rashieme demanded, rolling his eyes.

"But I was doing so good," I protested.  "I think I was winning."

Clearly, I wasn't.  Not after the Cloth-Shoe-Sliding-Board-Fall.

Lesson Learned:  When you're trying to beat the pants off your kid at some outdoor activity, wear sneakers.

And maybe a helmet.

And something other than a dress with granny panties underneath.

For the record, Rashieme and Kaliah went next.  With the aid of sneakers and pants (as opposed to a skirt), Rashieme beat her by a landslide.  He didn't even need the helmet.