A Freaking Day Early--Yay Me!

May

 

Parenting is hard. So. Very. Hard. I can't even fathom doing it as a teen, because I'm barely able to do it in my twenties. Oh fine...my thirties. I imagine the frame of reference for hardness is intensified a bazillion-fold if you are a teen mom or dad.
 
(Mom, Dad, judgy people...look away now): To be honest, it was by the grace of God I escaped my teen years childless. There was (at least one) "holy sweet sausage on a stick I think I might be pregnant" scare during my increasingly distant youth.
 
I'm relatively sure that if I had been a teen mother I would have had the support of family, and hopefully some friends. But if I didn't and was faced with a teen pregnancy and motherhood, I would have undoubtedly needed the support services provided by such organizations as The Maine Children's Home for Little Wanderers.
 
This month I have chosen another baby/child/parenting organization to highlight because, well...baby/child/parenting is my place right now. April was a crazy month for so many uncool reasons, and May is going to be just as hellishly hectic. So when this baby registry popped into my Facebook feed a day or so ago, I thought BLAMMO. Perfect. Making a difference from the comfort of an online baby registry. During the month of Mother's Day. Thank. You.
 
So please take a moment to read about them below (all information from their Facebook page...like 'em, you'll love 'em!) If you feel so inclined to make a tangible difference in the life of a teen parent (and child) in northern Maine this month, kindly consider clicking the link to their baby registry and sending some much needed, and very basic, supplies their way. I know they'll love you for it. Hell, I love you for it! (While the organization currently reaches out to approximately 2,000 families and children throughout the state annually, these supplies will be used by the Teen Parent School Program)
 
Here is the link to the registry! Thank you so much for your help!
 

The Maine Children's Home for Little Wanderers:

About

Founded in 1899, The Maine Children's Home for Little Wanderers features a full Hague-accredited adoption program, outpatient counseling, Teen Parent School Program, Early Care and Education Center, plus Camp Scholarship and Christmas Programs

 

Mission

"The Maine Children's Home builds and strengthens families and their children, instilling hope for the future and a better quality of life."

We are able to achieve this mission thanks to our experienced and caring staff as well as the support of our many donors and volunteers. All exemplify our belief that giving of oneself to help others is the greatest gift a person can give.

Company Overview

At the Maine Children’s Home for Little Wanderers, we believe every child deserves the right to reach his or her full potential. Since the inception of our agency in 1899, we have made a difference in the lives of many children and families throughout the State of Maine.

The Maine Children’s Home is a very special place. Couples eager to add to their families come to us for our extensive international and domestic adoption experience. Parents entrust our early care and education facility with the nurturing of their children. Teen parents count on us to provide positive mentoring and the practical life skills they need to become good parents. Youth, families, and individuals come to the Maine Children’s Home for compassionate counseling services in a nurturing environment. 

This picture really has nothing to do with this month's organization.

Other than the mounds of April snow in Maine.

But I have discovered that if I don't include a picture in each post, Blogger picks completely random ones from prior posts, which irritates me.

 Because control. I like control.

 

My Unraveling

Week Seventeen/Fifty-Two

"A portrait of my child(ren) once a week, every week, in 2014"

 

I call this series of photographs (taken with my phone, unfortunately,) My Unraveling.

 

They are messy and blurry and crazy and chaotic and completely mirror everyday life in our house lately.

 

 They are the result of seven minutes of peace and quiet.

 

They are part of a larger project titled, but not photographically documented, How the Baby Destroyed the House in One Morning. (Think an entire box of diapers strewn about the living room. A dish full of cat food scattered across the bathroom floor. Cooking utensils and toys and folded laundry accosted and left for dead.)

 

And it was only Monday.

 

And yet...it was A Monday.

 

I am joining Jodi and her 52 Project at Practising Simplicity  http://www.practisingsimplicity.com 



 

Missed It Again

Week Sixteen of Fifty-Two

"A portrait of my child(ren) Once A Week, Every Week, in 2014"

Another 52 Project week has come and gone, and I've missed the deadline again. But what matters, and is somewhat baffling, is how important capturing pictures of the baby has become to me. I've a real sense of dedication to taking some pictures of him each week as he rapidly changes and develops right before my eyes.

I think the next challenge for me will be tackling taking photos of the older kids with such dedication, because of course, while physically they may not change as rapidly, and they may be done reaching their "developmental milestones" for a while, it's just as important to document, both for me and their future selves, what life is like for our family right now.

For now here is what the little guy has been up to this week...

 Climbing...

 

 Soaring...

 

 Smiling...

 

 Hanging...

 

 And a favorite from Easter...

 

The Countdown

Week Fifteen/Fifty-Two

"A portrait of my child(ren) once a week, every week in 2014"
 

Lordy, Lordy. The countdown has begun. We have officially hit the eleven month mark. Less then 4 weeks until he is a year old. And say it with me everyone…“it’s killing me!”  I know I sound like a crazed Mama on repeat…but seriously. I can’t take it.

 

Someday I will come to terms and appreciate him moving (swiftly) out of infant and (likely) even toddler-hood. To be honest when I think of all of the times I catch him doing stuff like this…a preschooler doesn't seem so bad.

This week he discovered the joy of handing us things. Toys, socks, tiny little pieces of lint picked off the ; he loves to pass things off. We also discovered that he knows how to drink through a straw...genius! And this little boy, my baby boy, sure is one hell of a mess maker. Eating paper, playing in toilets, throwing things, splashing in the tub. Everything messy he adores. Good thing we all adore him right back!

 

I am joining Jodi and her 52 Project at Practising Simplicity  http://www.practisingsimplicity.com 

 

Let’s Make it Less Messy, More Beautiful. On Average, Brutiful- My Messy Beautiful

 I have a headache. I think because of this. This essay. This chance and opportunity is stressing me out. So naturally, headache. Of course it could also be because I haven’t slept through the night in almost eleven years. Or because every time the baby nurses he sounds like an angry badger, and I’m afraid he’s going to bite off my nipple. Or it could be because I worry my son will end up in prison, even though he’s just eight. And I’m worried about Jake Ballard and Olivia, but mostly Jake Ballard because, hot. So very hot.

But mostly I think it is this. This wonderful opportunity to showcase my shiz on a greater scale. And I’ve got a headache. Because I’m unhappy with what I have written. It feels…messy. It feels, while completely true and honest, forced. Simultaneously not what I typically write, but so often what I usually think.

 

So I have done my best. Languished for weeks and missed self-imposed submittal deadlines. But since now there is a headache involved, I need to Elsa the shit outta this essay and just Let. It. GO. So here it is. In honor of my sweet, beautiful, tween of a first born, I give you this…

 

Let’s Make it Less Messy, More Beautiful

On Average, Brutiful- My Messy Beautiful

 

Although it seems like a lifetime ago, I can vividly remember being a mother to one child. And holy mother of four children did I think it was the most difficult thing in the world; to parent a single kid. Sweet, sweet Mary was I wrong. I mean, yes, there were challenges with my first born. There was her tongue tie and my bleeding nipples (clearly my nipples are a hot-button issue for me). There was her complete and total inability to sleep unless being held, and my sheer exhaustion. There was her creaky bedroom floor, which woke her all the time. Every. Single. Time. There was my paranoia that I was doing it all wrong and her impatience with me to get it right. Those early years of being a mom to one, being a mom to her, were hard.

 

Thankfully, with each child I have birthed, I have learned that cartoons before school and fifty cents to stop talking and iPods and baby wipe baths and ravioli from a can, are not terrible child rearing strategies. They are necessary parenting tactics. Used for sheer survival. So as a mother, certainly I have changed. But I’m not sure if was for the better.

 

Regardless, in thinking about my Messy, Beautiful life; writing about being a mom and how it is so inexplicably brutiful, I am embarrassed to admit that it did not immediately occur to me to write the story of her. The story of us.

 

My gut instinct was to write about her younger brother…because holy hell that kid has issues. Then I thought I’d write about myself…because holy hell, I have issues. Kiddo, you were my third or fourth topic; lately and increasingly you are so often overlooked.  I realize that far too frequently I do not truly see you, even though that’s not how it always was. Certainly it is not how I ever imagined it would be.

 

Truthfully, in the beginning she was my everything. Four twenty six months she was my world. And now ten and a half years later, I feel as though I don’t really know her at all, that I have lost sight of her and our relationship. And I know she can feel this disconnect. I can see the hurt in her eyes, can feel her distance. We jokingly refer to her Dad as the dream killer, but really, what is worse is that I see her before me, and still I brush her aside; for there is always a younger child who needs me more immediately than her.

 

If she is excited to share a story, I quickly become distracted by the chaos that is almost always circling around us. If she begs to relay what is happening in her latest Greek Mythology book, my eyes glaze over almost instantly, because I’m lost in a flash or just simply tired. I swear she is smarter than me, and that makes both of us uneasy. I try to help her with her homework, but goddamn, fifth grade math is hard; we both always end up in tears. There are far too many days when I kiss her goodnight and wrack my brain, imploring myself to remember whether or not we interacted at all.

 

I drive her to and from activities all week long, and we have so many opportunities to talk. So many chances for us to learn more about each other, and yet she buries her head in her iPod or latest favorite book, or she gazes out the window lost in the music and her own magical thoughts. Instead of pressing her…beseeching her to talk to me and share her day, tell me what worries and scares her, and what brings her the most joy…I enjoy the silence. It feels as though our relationship is based on missed opportunities, and I blame myself.

 

I have stopped telling her that she is beautiful and smart and funny. Not because she is no longer those things, but because I have become so wrapped up in telling her to get her socks, or brush her teeth or be kind to her brother, or close-the-mother-flipping-door-because-we-do-not-live-in-a-barn! I have stopped cheering her on from the sidelines, not because I am no longer proud of her accomplishments, but because my throat hurts from yelling at and seizing teachable moments with and redirecting her younger siblings. All. The. Time. I have stopped hugging her and pulling her into my lap, not because I do not want to feel her close, but because my lap is so often full with her younger and much whinier sister, or her constantly-at-the-boob baby brother and because I am so often simply touched out.

 

So much of my time is spent trying to keep the baby from licking someone’s feet, or taking scissors from her sister, or talking her brother off a ledge, I worry that I will let her disappear; fade away, before I even got to know all of her. I worry that it has already happened. Undoubtedly I have let the little girl who chased butterflies in the back yard and picked dandelions during her softball games slip through my fingers.

 

She is the kid whose needs are brushed aside because the needs of her siblings are louder, more immediate, more physical. Life is louder than her. It is hard to ignore a screaming baby, or a diaper leaking poop, or a boy who is destroying his room out of frustration. But the quiet, shy girl standing before me, the beautiful one with hope in her blue eyes; the one who just wants her mom to notice her? She can be brushed aside.

 

I wish she could feel the thoughts I have for her inside my head. Because then she would always know how very much I love her. All of the time. I am desperate for her to know, to truly understand, because I don't demonstrate my love for her enough.

 

And I can't believe that in less time then she’s been alive she’ll be off to college (via work-study, and scholarships, and financial aid, because holy lack of a college fund). She'll be on her own, and she won't be mine anymore, but was she ever to begin with? Some days I truly and selfishly wish those days would hurry up and arrive. Because tween. But most days, and every night when I kiss her sleeping head goodnight one last time, I want to stop time. Or maybe even roll back the clock to an easier time, to the time when I thought it was so hard. To a time when she was my everything and she knew it, she felt it, she blossomed because of it.

 

I just want to keep her here with me so I can do better, be better at being her mother. I want her to still want to hold my hand, and give me a kiss at the bus stop, and hear what I think, and ask me which earrings I like better. I want her to wear mismatched shoes, and an arm full of bracelets. To ask me if she should wear a ponytail or braid. To still want me to scratch her back every night before bed. I want her to tell me she loves me, and that she will see me in the morning; no matter how appallingly I fail at being her mom.

 

  This essay and I are part of the Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project - To learn more and join us, CLICK HERE. And to learn about the New York Times Bestselling Memoir Carry On Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life, just released in paperback, CLICK HERE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunshine and Sniffles

Week Fourteen/Fifty-Two

"A portrait of my child(ren) once a week, every week, in 2014"

 

Finally the weather around here is looking up! We've even been able to spend some time outside, without all of our winter gear. Of course, this week and last, are the weeks that my poor kids end up feeling under the weather, but I'm a firm believer in sunshine and fresh air therapy!

 

 Discovering shadows...

 

And pointing...

 

Already always eager to get outside...

 

But just because it's warmer out now, doesn't mean someone is ready to give up her Christmas pajamas!

 

And lastly...this week he became more of a walker than a stepper. It won't be long now before he no longer crawls at all. Heart. Break.
 

I am joining Jodi and her 52 Project at Practising Simplicity  http://www.practisingsimplicity.com 

 

 

 



Jammies are my Jam

New(ish) month, new nonprofit to help! Since I wanted to post this on the first of the month, and here it is the sixth I put this together quickly. And the baby is pissed. And tired. And I'm tired. And kinda pissed. So, please forgive any typos, misspellings and general lack of clarity!

I stumbled upon the organization I've chosen for April simply out of laziness...though Facebook to be exact. I've been tossing a few different nonprofits around in my head and doing a bit of research, but then this one popped up in my feed and I thought yes. Yes a million times over...plus one...because I'm a total pajama addict, especially for babies and toddlers. I love little kid jammies, but bonus for me because I love to wear my jammies. All. Day. Long. So this...this is going to be especially fun!

Please take a minute to read about the Pajama Program (the following information is from the Pajama Program website...please read more about their organization and work here ) You can also "like" them on Facebook. Find them at Pajama Program - Official.
 

 "For the millions of children living in poverty in America, a good night is a luxury they do not often experience."

Pajama Program's Mission:

Pajama Program provides new pajamas and new books to children in need, many of whom are waiting and hoping to be adopted. These children live in various situations including group homes, shelters and temporary housing facilities and are shuffled often from one place to another. Many of them have been abandoned, abused or neglected. Most of these children have never enjoyed the simple comfort of having a mother or father tuck them in at bedtime with warm, clean pajamas and a bedtime story. Some of the children we serve are living with their families below the poverty level, in
desperate need of food, clothing and shelter.

 

About Pajama Program:

Pajama Program (founded in 2001) serves children throughout the nation with 62 Chapters in 32 States. Thousands of pajamas and books are being provided to children in desperate need of comfort and care. The pajamas have come to represent people who care and they offer security and love for a child abandoned in a shelter or waiting for a foster home. The books complete a nighttime ritual that so many of us took for granted… when Mom or Dad said, “okay get your pajamas on and I’ll be right in to read you a story.” Children in transition seldom hear these comforting words.

In order for us to expand our current programs, we need your support.

Here's How We Can Help:
The organization recently launched the nationwide One Million Good Nights initiative to collect one million new pajamas and books for children in need by the end of 2015. Snuggling up in cozy new pajamas with their very own new book gives these children a secure and nurturing 'Good Night' at bedtime. You can help by joining our campaign to deliver One Million Good Nights to children who need them most.
 

 What to do:

• If you are local please feel free to drop off (lacrosse practice, Girl Scouts, preschool etc, or contact me to arrange a pick-up) NEW, UNUSED pajamas (pajamas should be a complete set or nightgown). I will be collecting for all ages, infant-18 years old (up to adult size XXXL).
• Please choose an age appropriate (new) bedtime book to include with your pajama donation.
• If you are not local, but would like to contribute to the PJ/Book Drive please look here for Pajama and Book Drive Resources. You can easily find a local chapter, download the PJ Drive Toolkit and get to work!
• If you would like to make a financial contribution please start here

At the End of the Month:
Once I start the collection process I will contact our local chapter (New Hampshire) and determine where to send all of the books and jammies! The chapter President will get in touch with me and arrangements will be made to get everything to a Receiving Organization in Need. I will most definitely keep you all updated, and thank you so much for your generosity.

 

 

 

Goodbye Week

Week Thirteen/Fifty-Two

"A portrait of my child(ren) once a week, every week, in 2014"

 

A week of doctor's visits (but no antibiotics), field trips, more walking, waving and mounting laundry. Sleepless nights and fussy babies and coughing kids. Frustrated eight year olds, moody ten year olds, and whiny four year olds. To-do lists ignored. General unrest and unaccomplished tasks. Goodbye week of March 31, 2014. I bid you good riddance.

 

But thank you at least for these:

  

 I am joining Jodi and her 52 Project at Practising Simplicity

 http://www.practisingsimplicity.com