Drama for Mama

Oh to be Kid Friendly

Hannah started "school" at 7 months old. I was working full time when she was born and decided that daycare fit what I was looking for in our situation. She had a nanny from 4-7 months until she got into the school I chose for her and then she was thrown head first into the school setting. She was thrown headfirst and landed feet first. She never cried when I left her. She immediately found the parts of the classroom that interested her and learned to get along with others with ease. As she got older, she found it easy to interact with other kids and adults. She was friendly with people she was meeting for the first time. On the playground she'd befriend anyone and everyone. She has social graces that I envy. She's not shy, yet she's not pushy. She's just friendly and welcoming to everyone. I adore her for that trait. A trait that I truly believe is innate but was enhanced in her case in the school setting.

Then there's Luke. I stopped working before he was born and so I never had the need to send him off to be "socialized" at a very early age. He's been literally attached to me since the day he was born. I tote him around everywhere with me. He doesn't have any of his own friends. He takes a little gym class but is more interested in throwing balls around on his own or going up and down the slide himself than interacting with any of the other 15 kids in the class. The only other person he cares to notice at the gym, is me. Last week I took him to a new gym class and before we went into the actual session, he was playing in the general play area and he noticed something interesting about another little boy playing by him. He walked right up to him without hesitation, stared at him inches from his face and pulled the little boy's paci from his mouth. POP! Luke looked at the binky for a few seconds, looked back at the boy, looked at me, back at the boy and then shoved it back into the kid's mouth. The boy didn't react and his mother wasn't standing right there so if I hadn't been there to see it, it could have never happened! But I shook my head in disbelief that Luke thought this was a totally normal thing to do.

This week while we were away on vacation there was a little girl 18 months old standing in the hallway of the hotel. Luke ran up to her and said, "HI! Hi! Hi!". The girl looked at him but didn't respond. "HI!" Luke shouted a little louder and closer to her face while flapping his hand up and down in the best waving motion he could manage. Still nothing. Not even a smile. He ran a circle around her and popped over her other shoulder, "HI!". She proceeded to run behind her mom's legs and peaked out at him from her new hiding spot. He thought this was a new game and ran back over to her laughing, "HI!". She shoved her face into the back of her mom's legs to block him from view and I tried to lure Luke away but he swatted at me for trying to ruin his new game. He tried to push his face into the FRONT of the mom's legs to get through to the girl's face. No luck. I pulled at his arm saying, it was ok that she was being quiet (while the girls mom laughed and explained that she was just shy) but he pulled free from my grasp and ran back to her leaning his head against the girl's shoulder squeaking out a few more "Hi! Hi! Hi!"'s. He finally got frustrated by the lack of response and placed his hand squarely on the girl's chest and pushed her. He pushed her! "HI!" he said again, this time quite seriously. The mom stopped laughing and I decided to end the scene by picking him up into my arms saying, "No Touch, Luke!" and he looked over my shoulder at her and smiled and waved. "Bye! Bye!" he shouted as we walked away. No love match made there. And I realized he needs a small lesson on how to make new friends (and how to play hard-to-get).

All of this makes me wonder when you should start "teaching" your child the "right" way to be friendly. If your child isn't in a school setting at an early age, how and when do they learn the ins and outs of making friends? I'm not always good at the playdate thing so I don't have 20 month old kids chaperoned in and out of my house and I don't go to other houses often either. It's actually one of my New Year's resolutions... to have more playdates. To be less of a hermit in the comfort of my own home. Stay tuned for my resolution post coming up soon... How much of "being friendly" is innate and how much is learned?

It also makes me think about how much of the instinct to be friendly is taken AWAY with socialization. Wouldn't it be great if you could stay as friendly as you were at 20 months, going up to anyone and everyone saying HI and not caring what they looked like or what they'd think of you? Just to BE friendly because that's your nature? Hannah is super friendly to everyone but is starting to question why people aren't nice back. Why not everyone wants to play with her. Why someone at the park has no interest in her random story (that she tells 4 inches from their face). It's not not enough to make her stop her outgoing, wonderful attempts to make new friends but I wonder how it effects her little 5 year old makeup.

I think I actually used to be friendlier. I've become cynical in my "old" age and where I used to expect everyone to respond to my outgoing friendliness positively, I now am less trusting. To me, there's nothing worse than being friendly and getting a "chill" in response. So I now don't open up as easily or quickly. I stand back, measure people up a little more. I wait longer before I approach someone new. I wish I could be like Luke and jump right in and without waiting for a positive response, just keep it going, continue my rapport, but I can't. I get my feelings hurt and am more hesitant the next time I'm in a similar situation. Luke hasn't had "lessons" in making friends. He watches his sister. He watches me. He is seeing what works for him, what he's comfortable with on his own. He has had no training in getting his feelings hurt on the playground or in the classroom. And it's so refreshing. So innocent. So raw and real. I wish I could wrap it up - save it for him. I also wish I could borrow a lesson from him and live like this for a day (or month or year). Live the way that comes naturally to me and not the way I've been trained to live. Guarded. A little fearful. Maybe I'll give it a shot. I'll just need a few drinks to make it happen...

Missing Out

I have a 20 month old son who doesn't speak (yes it's true, he does have a flaw). At least not a language that I can understand. He'll say "HI!" to anyone and anything that he sees (including potted plants, wheelchairs, and popsicles) and happily points out every "Ball!" that he sees (whether it's an actual ball or an orange, grape, Tiddlywink or anything else that happens to be round) but really, he doesn't speak. He gets his point across by pointing, making hand motions, strange mouth shapes and a variety of grunts, but for the most part, I have NO idea what he's trying to say. I'm assuming the majority of the time he's either saying, "Put me the fuck down, I'm tired of being carried, I just want to RUN!" based on the fact that he's at his happiest when he is able to just run around wildly (Anyone know where I can buy a leash?), or "Can you PLEASE get me another beverage already?" since he slurps down quarts of juice, water, milk or any other liquid in nanoseconds. But there are other times that he is standing in front of me, waving his arms, "Buh, Buh, Buh"ing and I'm pointing at everything in sight saying, "You want your truck? You want the phone? You want your toothbrush? You'd like to dance?" and we both end up just exasperated. It's like when you're playing Pictionary and your partner isn't guessing what your stick figure is supposed to be doing so you just keep making it darker and darker and drawing it again and again and pointing at it harder and harder... it's so frustrating, it's so OBVIOUS in your own head! Why can't they figure it out? I know that's how poor Luke feels. He shouts his word louder and louder. He stares more intently with each shout, "BUH!", and I Still Can't Get It. It's horrendous. To be the mom and not know what your child needs.

Mind you, he totally understands absolutely everything said to him (except colors... we're working on colors). Thank. God. Since he doesn't have any words, it always surprises me when I say something like, "Luke sit down, take off your boots and socks and go put them in your hamper." and he does just that. It's like a silly magic trick. Tonight at dinner with my whole extended family I said, "Hey everyone, watch this... Luke, see how many pieces of pasta you can balance on your spoon." and he went and stacked 4 bowtie pastas on his spoon and said "YEAH!". Ok, so I didn't get the standing ovation for my son that I hoped for - I guess I just wanted everyone to know that my nonspeaking son has TALENT dammit. Real Talent. And, although he's like a prisoner in his own head, unable to speak, he is definitely a part of the conversation. He can relate. He can respond. And his non-biased mom, thinks that's a huge relief.

On the opposite end of the spectrum and on the opposite end of the life cycle, is my 96 year old grandmother. Nana. Nana can barely hear anymore. She "assumes" what people are saying to her based on what is going on around her but really, she has no idea what's being said. It's terrible. She feels secluded. She feels left out. She sees that people are laughing but has no idea why. She sees that people are looking to her for a response, but all she can do is smile and nod for fear that she'll respond inappropriately. She's tired of saying, "What?". She's tired of asking everyone to speak up or speak slower. She feels like an outsider. She's no longer a part of the conversation.

But she can speak. She still has all of her words. She certainly gets what she wants and if she doesn't, you'll hear about it! She loves to talk. Get her going, and she won't stop. She'll tell you about every morsel that she ate for breakfast, lunch, dinner and every snack in between. She'll tell you all of the gossip going on inside her assisted living home. She'll talk about her younger years, my mom, her dogs and her love for fashion. She'll rattle off the headlines from the news and the reviews of movies in the movie theater that she'll never see. Because she can't hear. She loves to talk. It's how she can communicate. It's how she can still feel a part of life. Like Luke, she's also stuck inside her own head. The world around her is listening and responding. But she's able to only be on one side. Talking.

Two different issues. One at the beginning of life. One at the end. Unable to speak. Unable to hear. Both frustrated, but both getting by. One with so much to look forward to. One missing how it once was. I have shed tears for both predicaments. I feel helpless with both of them. Wanting to help them but not having the power to really help. I wonder which is worse. Who feels more engaged? Who can interact better? I know, one doesn't know any better. He's too young to really know what he's missing. But his little mind aches with frustration just the same. His big tears, stomping feet and pounding fists tell me so. And my Nana is too tired to make a big deal out of her deafness but I know she hates missing out. I catch her shaking her head with sadness when she's missing out on the joy surrounding her.

So I give hugs. Big hugs. Because unlike most forms of communication, hugs don't require words or ears. And that makes us all feel better.

A new kind of vacation

I am on vacation. The new kind of vacation. The kind with the kids. It probably should have a different name because vacation is not what it used to be. I remember vacation. Vacation was packing MY bags one night and heading for the airport the next morning coffee in hand, flipflops on my feet and a carry-on containing my bathing suit that I knew I'd immediately put on as soon as I arrived at my beachy destination. It was 7 days away from work, and away from hassle. I'd turn off my phone knowing no one could need me THAT badly. Vacation was waking up at 10, putting on my bathing suit and heading to the outdoor cabana for breakfast in the sand. Vacation was a massage at 3, nap at 4, drinks by the ocean at 6 and dinner at 8. Vacation was going to sleep at night flushed from the sun, buzzing from the wine and relaxed that there was no agenda for the next day.

I am on vacation. But not THAT kind of vacation. I am sitting as I write in a PITCH dark room. Hannah is asleep on a blow up mattress at the foot of my bed. Luke has been asleep since 7 so here is where I've been sitting since then. We needed TWO luggage carts to bring all of our stuff to our room. We are here for FOUR days. I actually lied to the bellhop and told him I had four kids. I packed That Much Stuff. I'm pretty sure I forgot some essentials for myself, but at least I brought thirty or so Matchbox cars, two baby dolls and anything Hannah could need to care for them, a doll double stroller, a tiara making kit for all of the cousins, pickup sticks, Tiddly Winks, three board games, swim goggles, and a soccer ball.

I am on vacation. That's what it's called even though I had dinner at 6:00 with 10 of my family members but I don't recall actually speaking to any of them because Luke was grabbing the knives from our table, and throwing food at the table next to us. Preventing any major injury took precedence over conversation. I know I ordered a glass of wine but I don't quite recall drinking it. I know a toast was given at the start of the meal by my parents who took us on this vacation but I don't recall clinking glasses with anyone since Luke was grabbing the stem of my glass as I went to lift it up. On my dinner plate was a piece of chicken, some rice and three Matchbox cars. Letting Luke drive the cars through my food kept him entertained so I was fine with that. It's his vacation too.

Hannah wore her most favorite new dress and a necklace to dinner and ate a huge ice cream sundae for dessert. She went swimming in the indoor pool for an hour right before dinner and will again when she first gets up before breakfast. Two of her most favorite girls in the world, who happen to be her cousins and she rarely gets to see, are down the hall. She'll see them before she's even dressed in the morning, will be with them all day tomorrow and will have a pajama party with them tomorrow night. She went to bed an hour later than usual. During that hour I lay in her blow up bed with her watching Lady and the Tramp on the portable DVD player. I told her an extra long, extra special good night story before her eyes shut for the night.

Luke will have unlimited beverages at his disposal. He'll get to eat french fries at every meal. He gets to see more than just mommy's face for 4 days in a row. He has MILES of open, vast hallways to run up and down. He has stairways galore to climb.

No, I won't sleep late. I won't read any books as I lounge by a pool. I won't be flushed from the sun or buzzed from drinks. I won't be going to bed past 10 on any night. I won't be dancing under any stars. No, that's not really what vacation is anymore. Vacation is better now (did I really just say that?). It has more meaning now. Vacation is now creating memories for my two little kids. Vacation is the excitement and sparks I see in their eyes as they wake up somewhere new and get to eat cereal in their bed out of the little boxes. Vacation is letting THEM stay out late. Letting THEM have chocolate milk at breakfast and dessert at lunch. Vacation is watching THEM let loose on the dance floor in their fancy clothes. Vacation is their laughter, their exuberance at all that is new in a place they've never been.

It's 10:00 and Tim is sound asleep next to me, snoring away. There's no TV and even if there was, I wouldn't be able to turn it on because Hannah is only feet away. But I'm on vacation. We've only been on this vacation for 8 hours but Hannah has already told me she's having the BEST time ever. The last words she said as she fell asleep were, "I can't wait until tomorrow."

And neither can I.

Wish upon a star

OK, I got my venting out of the way. I am now ready to write my "real" post. Sorry if my vent was out of left field or slightly not PC. I just had one of those afternoons... Ahem.

I put stars on Hannah's ceiling of her bedroom a couple of weeks ago. She'd been asking me for months, no, make that YEARS for stars on her ceiling and they've been sitting in my desk drawer for almost as long. I kept coming across them sitting there in the drawer but every time I took them out to put them up it just seemed like such a PROJECT. Standing on her bed, arms above my head for an hour, with little stars and bits of puddy to get them to stick... just wasn't appealing. But she has recently become very interested in the solar system and the stars and planets (sorry, that's redundant) and so I thought it would be the right time. A good time. A special time. It took me about 30 minutes to stick about 30 various size stars to her ceiling and when the blood finally came back to my finger tips, I gave myself a hug and a high five for FINALLY completing this project. And I turned out the lights in her room, looked up at her now beautifully lit night sky and became giddy with anticipation for how much I KNEW she'd love it.

That night as she was changing into her warm feety pajamas (oh how I love my kids in fuzzy feety pajamas), I turned out the light. She started to laugh thinking this was a new game to try to get dressed in the dark and then the glowy stars caught her eye. She gasped and said, ever so quietly, "mommy, it's BEAUTIFUL. My own nighttime, right here in my room." She climbed onto her bed and lay on her back staring. Silent. I could see her smile as my eyes got used to the darkness.

"See that one mommy? That big one to the left?"

"Yes, sweetie."

"That's the Bebe star."

"Aww, that's sweet Hannah to name a star for Bebe (one of her grandmas). I'm sure she'd love that."

"And you see the one right over my face. The other big one?"

"Mmm Hmmm." I said

"That's the mommy star."

You bet your ass one of them better be named after me.

"Oh, thanks Han. I love that you are giving one to me."

And she proceeded to name the other two big stars, one for her other grandma and one for daddy. And then of course, all the medium size stars and tiny stars too. Everyone in her life had a star. (And if you don't have a star named after you on her ceiling you can be sure you are VERY far down on her list and you better start sucking up to her big time!)

She fell asleep that night as I told her stories of camp outs and nights of star gazing in my younger years. I lay there with her wishing I had put those stars up when she first asked for them. Her happiness was THAT great.

The mystique of the stars wore off a bit over the past week or so. She got used to them. Started not appreciating them as much. This is so common when something so beautiful is in our view day in and day out. It's sad that we take things for granted, but we do. But tonight, after she had a VERY difficult day filled with tantrums, frustration and misery (yeah, my day was worse because of it), I decided to bring her focus back to the stars.

"Hannah, let's make a wish on a star tonight, ok?"

"Mommy, I make a wish every night. It's what I do."

"Really? Every night?"

"Yup, for real, I do."

"OK, well, I want to make a wish tonight too. You go first. Make a super wonderful wish tonight Hannah."

She closed her eyes, and I watched them flutter for a few minutes and when she opened them, she was all smiles.

"What did you wish for?"

"Well, I shouldn't tell you because then my wish won't come true, but if you PROMISE not to tell anyone then I'll tell you."

"OK. I promise." I said. And in my head I told myself I was going to do EVERYTHING in my power to make whatever her wish was tonight come true. Because that's what mommies do.

"I wished that you would take me to a state or a country or a land or something where the Unicorns live. Because Unicorns are so beautiful with their sparkly horns and rainbow colored bodies."

Alrighty then

"What a wonderful, special wish Hannah. I'm sure that would be a magnificent place to visit."

"Will you take me there one day mommy?"

"We'll keep talking about it Han. I'm not sure where that land is so I can't promise anything."

"Can't you look it up on your computer?"

Oh Jesus

"Yes, maybe I can."

I love the innocence. I love the hope, the dreams, the belief in all things wonderful at that age. How I wish I could bottle it up and remind her when she becomes cynical and pessimistic about things as she gets older that she used to believe in Unicorns. That she believed that she'd visit and befriend the Unicorns. Purple and pink and yellow horses with sparkly horns.

So tonight, I am promising myself, that although I can't exactly make this wish on a star come true for her, that I will help her to continue to believe that all beautiful magical things are WORTH believing in because they bring us to a happy place and keep us moving forward. They keep us LOOKING forward. And life is so much better when you have something to look forward to. Like visiting unicorns.

So in this holiday season, Be Happy, like you are visiting the unicorns.

Christmas Shmitsmas

Ok people. My holiday is now over so it's time to move on with the winter and remove yourselves from the stores. I have a vacation to get ready for and I do not need all of you crazed shoppers in my way as I buy my few vacation necessities. You're stealing my parking spots, you're taking my shopping carts, you're causing insane lines at the grocery stores and you're making returning my less than desirable gifts that I received for MY holiday, next to impossible. Even worse, because of the upcoming, somewhat of a big deal holiday, all of the stores are closed the day before I leave for vacation. This means far too much planning on my part. I don't pack three days ahead of time so I do not KNOW that I'll need more shampoo, warm socks, razors or hair ties until the day before I leave which just happens to be CHRISTMAS. I also do not enjoy cooking dinner the night before I leave for vacation because I like being waited on at a restaurant so I can relax after my bags are packed and I look forward to hitting the road in the morning. But this year, it's Christmas so my restaurants of choice will not be open to serve me. On top of that, I like to have playdates on the days that my kids are home from school but it just so happens that it's Christmas and none of my kids friends will be choosing having a playdate at my house over opening their gifts and celebrating with their families, which means I'm stuck at home, with nothing to do except be stuck at home. You would think that my kids have plenty to do at home with all of the gifts they received over the eight days of Chanukah but you see, Chanukah was finished just about a week ago and a week is plenty of time to become totally BORED of all of the new gifts. They are now OLD gifts and are not incentive enough to keep anyone excited about staying home without anywhere to go or anyone to play with.

I just returned home from the local Hallmark store empty handed. I had planned on running in quickly to buy a card for my grandmother who is turning 96 but forgot that Christmas is in 2 days and everyone and their mother (and 96 year old grandmothers) were in line buying last minute gifts and wrapping paper. The line was wrapped around the store (how ironic!) so my poor, very old grandmother is going to have to be satisfied with a homemade card this year. I also needed a camera battery for my camera that I will be taking on vacation so I ran into the camera store and ran just as quickly out because it seems as if cameras are a hot gift for Christmas this year. I certainly was not getting any attention from the camera salespeople with my $16 request when the guy in front of me was learning about the $2000 camera.

My biggest mistake today was requesting to get a prescription called into the Target pharmacy. I thought with Luke in tow it would be easiest with the indoor, massive parking lot but the 40 minute wait for my prescription had me second guessing that idea. I guess everyone else is also getting their anti-anxiety meds refilled before heading off with their families. I thought I was all smart by doing a little Target shopping while I waited for my script but when I was told that I couldn't pay for it at the pharmacy counter but instead would have to wait in ANOTHER line in the front of the store, I left my goodies right there on the pharmacy counter (including the Matchbox car that I planned on buying for Luke and opened while waiting in line). I didn't really need the new bathing suit for the indoor swimming pool at the resort anyway. I'm not even planning on getting into the indoor swimming pool but Target was sporting a rather chic collection of resort wear and I couldn't resist.

So you see, not EVERYONE is skipping through town singing "Little Drummer Boy" joyfully in their heads this time of year. Not that I'm Scrooge (I love this time of year too) but being Jewish in the days before Christmas can be a little frustrating. Everyone is wishing me a Merry Christmas and asking my kids what they've asked Santa for whether they've been good or naughty (boy do I wish I could use the Elf on the Shelf!) and we are smiling and thanking everyone and moving along with the flow. But inside, I'm ready for the chaos to die down in the stores and I'm ready for New Years Eve when we can celebrate with everyone else and enjoy all of the stores being closed on 1/1 so we can sleep off our hangovers with the rest of the world.

No really (I hope I didn't offend anyone... I didn't right?), Merry Christmas to all of you celebrating this important, special holiday. I hope you have memorable, wonderful days with your families and friends. Thank you for visiting my little part of this amazing blog world and I hope to see you in the New Year!

xox

What did I do?

I had a ridiculously long, exhausting day and am left with very little energy to write a post tonight. So I'll just write this little anecdote that may make you laugh. Or cringe. Or never come back again. Or possibly all of the above. Whatever, it's one for the books and you're the lucky ones who get to read it. No need to comment... just try not to think less of me (or Hannah), ok?

Hannah went to bed last night with a 101 fever. It was not looking hopeful for today. She woke up still warm to the touch and complaining that "her mouth hurt". I figured she had a canker sore or chapped lips or something along those lines and blew her and her sore mouth off for most of the morning. I was too concerned with figuring out whether she'd be going to her first gymnastics practice of the season with the low fever she was sporting to put much thought into her mouth. And then, early this afternoon I saw her grimacing every time she swallowed. And I asked her, "Hannah, does it hurt when you swallow?"

"YES mommy. I TOLD you, my mouth hurts! It hurts a lot!"

"Is it your throat? Like down inside your neck?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

Her first sore throat. I had no idea. She had no idea. Sore throat + fever = visit to the doctor in my book.

I packed everyone into the car and made our way to the pediatrician. Hannah chatted the entire way there about how excited she was to get a sticker for being a "perfect, brave patient". I knew in the back of my head, there was a chance that a cotton swab/stick was going to be shoved down her throat which was not going to be pretty. She didn't recall the last experience with the gag stick and I didn't want to remind her.

I was right. One look into her throat and the doctor unwrapped the swabs and before Hannah could even look at what was happening, the gag reflex was upon us. And she started to SCREAM. She put both hands over her mouth to prevent any further entry and giant tears streamed down her face. "Tell the doctor that makes my throat hurt even more! Tell her I won't allow that EVER again!" Mind you the doctor was standing right there, another swab in hand, helpless to the situation. She looked at me and said, "I'll give you a moment with her but I need to do another swab one way or another." And she left me with my sad, petrified, hysterical daughter.

"Hannah, sweetie, the doctor has to do one more stick in your throat. If you don't cry and just open really wide, it won't be so bad. I promise. And this is the only way for the doctor to know what kind of sickness you have. You really have no choice."

"No, no, no. I like that less than anything. It's badder than anything I've ever done. I don't care if she never knows what is wrong with me. No."

So I decided to take a different approach. Without giving it much thought (which you'll realize in a moment), I told her my recollection of the first time she had ever had a cotton swab stuck down her throat when she was 18 months old.

"Hannah, do you want to know what you said to the doctor when you were 1 and you had this done? It might make you laugh..."

sniffle sniffle, "ok".

"Well, after he tried to stick the stick in your mouth and you didn't like it you said very slowly, looking him straight in the eye, your face very close to his, finger wagging, 'No Dick In Mouf!'

Mind you, I knew Hannah has NO IDEA what a Dick is or even that such a word exists, I just knew she'd think the way she said it was funny.

And she did. She burst out laughing, wiped away her tears and *gasp* repeated it right then and there LOUDLY for all the office to hear, "No Dick In Mouf!!" and continued laughing as I tried to shush her and it was now MY turn to put my hands over her mouth.

And then the doctor re-entered, looked at us both laughing and said, "ok, then, I guess you're ready for the next swab?" I looked over at Hannah and pleaded with my eyes for her not to say her newly learned words to the doctor. But it was too late. Out the words came. Followed by hysterical giggles. The look on the (thankfully female) doctor's face was priceless. I explained the origin of the sentence and she (kind of ) laughed. But not really. I'm pretty sure it is now noted in Hannah's chart that she needs some sort of counseling. But she got the "dick" in Hannah's mouth with only a minor gag and fewer tears.

Mommy of the year, right here. At least the trip to the doctor's was worth it. She has strep. And I think I should look for a new pediatrician.

I'm a Super Hero

I had one of those mornings. It didn't start well. Luke who is normally the late sleeper awoke at 5:30 screaming and in turn woke up Hannah who came running into our room frenzied that he was crying and no one was getting him. (In my half asleep state I guess I was hoping he would scream himself back to sleep). He screamed and screamed and she whined and whined that he needed me and I should be getting him. I looked at him through half opened eyes in the monitor and saw that he was only minutes away from hurling himself over the edge of the crib so I sleepily hoisted myself out of bed, meandered down the dark hall behind worried Hannah and opened the door to screaming Luke's room. The door wasn't even fully ajar when I heard him squealing "Hi! Hi! Hi!". Far too excited for 5:37 am. I brought him back to my bed knowing full well that my squirmy son would sit for about 13 minutes of Wow Wow Wubbzy before he would flip onto his belly and start sliding his way feet first off the bed and make a bee line for the stairs ready for breakfast. "Cuddling" is not in his vocabulary. Neither is "Sitting Still" or "Relaxing".

Needless to say, the early start put me in a super cranky, impatient mood. Everything and everyone was annoying me. Hannah was beyond exhausted by 7:30 am and was fighting me and pushing my sanity to the limit. My vision of a beautiful, snow activity filled Sunday was slipping from view. We wanted to go sledding but everything I suggested she wear was too itchy, too tight, too uncomfortable or too hot. I was losing patience. I snapped at her more than once. I was throwing out dirty looks, rolling my eyes and causing even more tears to fall. I had a 36 pound koala-girl wrapped around my leg as I tried to get dressed in my closet and a 25 pound parrot-boy repeating every yelp and scream that came out of Hannah's mouth thinking it was all a big game. All three of us were yelling in one form or another and Tim looked on, trying to calm the situation that was beyond saving. If half a foot of snow hadn't just been dumped on the street, I probably would have shook myself free of everyone, jumped into my car and driven off.

But I didn't. Instead I took a deep breath, lowered myself down to the ground in my closet where Hannah laid sprawled amid the shoes and bags, and hugged her. I told her I understood she's tired because Luke woke her up so early. I told her that she just needed to stop crying and we'd figure out how to get her dressed comfortably. I rubbed her back, stroked her hair and told her we'd make this a perfect day after all. And she looked at me, hair sticking to her face and cheeks still wet with tears and said, "Mommy, You're like a Super Hero".

"I'm like a super hero? Why?" I asked with a huge smile spreading across my face.

"Because super heros can make anyone feel better. They always save people. They do everything right. And that's what you do."

And I melted. Right then and there, in my messy closet. I melted. What a reminder of why I am able to do this job day in and day out. Why I haven't dedicated any substantial amount of time to finding any consulting work to get out of the house a few hours a week. It was the best Thank You I ever could have imagined one of my children (or anyone for that matter) saying.

You may know if you've read my blog for a while that I give in to Hannah's emotional demands "too"quickly. I don't walk away from her when she throws tantrums. I'm not always consistent and don't always follow through when I threaten a punishment if she's behaving badly. I struggle with being a strong mom instead of a good friend. I'm working on it. I'm getting better at setting stricter rules but have a ways to go. I don't pride myself on being a strict, limit setting mom but, on the other hand, I am very confident that I can always make my kids feel good. Feel better. I always know what words to say to ease their pain, what hug to give to make Hannah feel happy and calm. I know many times I should be walking away, ignoring her, not giving in, but when I know all that's needed are my arms wrapped around her, even if she doesn't deserve it, I do it.

I do it because I don't know how long it will be requested. When Hannah is 12 I don't know if she'll want, or even need, a hug from mommy to ease her pain. I do it because I want her to feel safe. To feel understood. I do it because I know it's what I would want. When tears are flowing, I want someone to do or say SOMETHING. Not to step around me and let me figure it out on my own. Not to get angry that I'm crying. Not to teach me a lesson.

And I was reminded today, on the floor of my closet, that my choice to DO something, even when others think I'm too soft, is worth it. Because I'm a Super Hero. And I'll take that over being a "strong" mom any day.

Anyone have a cape I can borrow?