Sugar and Spice

It is, indeed, the most absolutely fantastical, magical, wonderful time of the year. As I drove to work this morning singing carols with the girls I could not help but remember a time where I was more grinch-like than Christ-like in my holiday preparations. I used to look towards the holidays cynically; gripe about the commercialization and groan at the cheer-givers in the elevator. Looking back I know now that it was me - I didn't allow the magic of Christmas into my heart. It was always there. Always has been. He always has been - that Christ-child whose coming we prepare for and celebrate during these crazy, glorious times. It took two new sets of eyes in the form of my awe-struck and awe-inspiring baby girls to really renew the spirit of the season in me. Christmas-time is no less hectic, no less commercial that before; traffic is as crazy as ever and people are as rude as ever. Yet, I now know beyond a shadow of any doubt that I am amongst God's creation at eve...

It has, indeed, been a long time coming...but I'm back. So much has happened, it's hard to know where to start. Bug has turned 1. Her party was great, though she wouldn't touch her cake. She's teetering around on her shaky feet trying to walk, but she can shimmy up the stairs faster than any creature on this Earth, be it two- or four-legged. Pumpkin continues to co-mother her with me. What would I do without her.  When I hear Bug crying, she makes sure to tell me Bug is crying. When I hear Bug babbling, she makes sure to tell me Bug is awake. When Bug is hungry, tired, or mad, she makes sure to tell me Bug is hungry, tired, or mad. When Bug escapes to the stairs, she makes sure to tell me Bug is on the stairs.  You get the picture. Halloween this year was interesting, to say the least.  It was the first Halloween that Pumpkin really understood what was going on and looked forward to it. I, for one, have always despised Halloween, though this year I found mys...

I admit, I'm always in a hurry. Most of the time for no good reason, other than I tend to over-extend myself and be a bit of a perfectionist; neither of which are good reasons. I rushed through college and then law school, beginning my "career" at 24. I wasn't even old enough to rent a car for my first out-of-town deposition.  I always wanted to and still usually do want to be done with whatever goal I'm working on. I've never been good at "enjoying the ride," "stopping to smell the roses," "carpe-ing the diem" or whatever. I live dangerously on the edge of missing out on things because I'm so anxious and focused on getting to the next goal line. That's why I'm recycling this song for my title - I've used it before but it hits me in the gut every time I hear it. I find myself telling Pumpkin to hurry up a lot. Especially in the morning, before I am sufficiently caffeinated and when we are undoubtedly running ...

As we are getting our first tastes of sweet fall air (only in the early morning and late evening, mind you, but still tastes), I have finally slowed down enough to write. We've had quite a summer between moving, Bug's first beach trip, Pumpkin's swimming lessons, and weeks and weeks of good ol' fashion fun in the sun. For those inquiring minds, be advised that Bug (despite her name) appears to hate all things elemental. From the sun to the sand, the waves to the wind, she was having NONE of the beach. The moment she hit the air conditioning at the condo, all smiles. I now know what it must have been like to raise me, but at least I found my own ride to the top of the mountain when I didn't want to hike. Aside from her disdain for the outdoors, Bug is growing like a weed. She's moments away from walking and every time we stand her up to "practice" she stares down at her feet with a look that says "come on feet, do your thing" followed by...

Relationships are so easy when you're three.  Honestly, everything (or at some very important things) I need to know about relationships I could learn from my girls, if I'd only listen. First, always let people know what you want (or don't want).  My girls never hold back on what they want - whether it be the dreaded-by-all-adults question of "what should we have for supper" or a simple Saturday afternoon question of what should we do - they tell it like it is (or at least Pumpkin does, though Bug makes her opinions known in her own way).  Sometimes it stings a little, when for whatever reason they don't want to participate in whatever great idea I had planned for them or they just aren't in the mood for tickles or kisses, but I never wonder whether there are ulterior motives or if their actions are motivated by guilt.  There aren't and they aren't. Second, and in the same vein, always let people know how you feel.  Emotions get complicated and...

Sometimes, like this morning, I realize my conversations with Pumpkin have gotten out of control.   She is such a great conversationalist that sometimes I find I get myself in over my head with an explanation that is just a little more than a three-year old can handle.   For example, this morning I started discussing the 4 th of July with Pumpkin.   Simple enough – it was on the agenda for summer camp this week so I figured if they can talk about it so can I. It started out simple enough – America’s birthday; red, white, and blue; fireworks; parade; grilling out; cake.   Well, cake turned into a question of who was going to blow out the candles, which led to my attempted explanation of America as a country and not a person.   Despite the obscurity, Pumpkin resolved that one fairly easily – “I will blow out the candles for ‘merica.”   Okay, good enough. Then the talk turns back to cake and I start explaining how we will make a red, white, and bl...

We have had all sorts of crazy new adventures in the Brown house since last we met; the most obvious of which is the Brown house is now in a new location!  As of Friday we are the proud owners of our dream home which we have been trying to buy since before Bug was born.  For now, we are the proud owners of that home AND the owners of our River House but in 30-days (barring anymore unforeseen realty drama) we will be back to owning only ONE home.  Other than the typical stresses associated with moving and owning two homes, life has been mostly grand.  The girls love the new house, per Pumpkin, who has declared that it doesn't "stink like the other house".  Despite her love of the new digs, she refuses to sleep at night in her own room and has taken up residence on the floor next to my bed instead.  It sounds awful to relegate your child to the floor, but I thought if I made sleeping in my room unappealing maybe she would opt back into her ...

  My dear Pumpkin,   Today is your birthday.   I have decided that one of my gifts to you each year will be to write you a letter saying all the things I want to say but don’t or can’t, or that I need to but haven’t yet.   I know this “gift” won’t mean much now, other than to myself, but I need to know you have these letters when I’m gone, whether that be next year or in 50 years.   I want you to be able to hear my voice and know how very much you were loved.   And even when it doesn’t feel like it, I want you know that I understand you.   I want you to know that you are the most amazing little girl in the world. Today you are three.   Some moments I find myself looking at you and barely recognizing the little girl standing where my tiny baby once was.   I hear words out of your mouth that are beyond profound.   I see flashes of understanding in your eyes that lets me know you get things that you are not even able to fully pr...

Certainly if the judges were out this weekend, after the failed parenting experiment that it was, I would be have been eliminated from any possiblity of Mother of the Year. With Hubby out of town and my parents headed to New Orleans to meet up with family and friends for JazzFest, I had a choice - stay home alone all weekend with the two girls or load them up and head them out to NOLA.  It wasn't really much of a choice - we were road-tripping it!  I talked myself into by reminding myself that Pumpkin is very musical, loves live music and loves to dance.  She also loves hotels.  Bug, on the other hand, is just as laid back as a Sunday morning, so there was really no reason NOT to go.  Right? The car ride there was fabulous - no major meltdowns, mostly naps, and we made half-decent time despite three pit stops in as many hours.  The hotel room was big enough that we weren't going to suffocate (which is a big PLUS in NOLA) and the weather seem...

As my last post may have hinted at, I've been feeling very existential about motherhood. I feel very much that being a mother is the most complicated, intense, profound and deeply rewarding experience I have ever had.  From the moment that you feel the first flutter, there truly are no words to describe the constant roller coaster of overwhelming emotion.  This is ironic since I am writing a blog about motherhood that I am always finding myself at a loss for a word big enough or powerful enough to truly capture my emotion. I am now a part of a long line of mothers near and far, old and young, who want the same exact thing for their children that I want for mine. I want their basic needs met.  I want them to experience joy, love, success, pride, and peace.  I never want them to want.  I never want them to hurt.  In whatever language, on whatever continent, we are all mothers.  We are connected by our love.  We hurt for...

There are no words. I have nothing profound or eloquent to say. A child was among the victims. What kind of world are we living in? I don't want my children to know this fear that is choking me. I used to ache for the mothers in those other places who were afraid their children would be shot when they walked outside... Those mothers who worried about roadside bombs... But that was their concern, those countries were over there.  Far away. I once only ached for them.  Now I am one of them. Bug was up sick last night.  Two long hours.  I held her the entire time. I let Pumpkin fall asleep in  my bed.  I missed her as soon as her eyes closed. I finally laid my own tear-stained cheeks on my pillow and frantically whispered fervent prayers into the cold dark night. Waking, I hoped it was all a bad dream. It wasn't. But neither was the beauty in those little girls' eyes as they peered over their warm comforters this mornin...

We had Pumpkin’s annual parent-teacher conference last week.   When scheduling, the teacher indicated that the class was “pass/fail,” and the old feelings of angst and competitiveness rose in my chest as though I were back in law school.   Pass/Fail?   Really?   2-year olds?   I was as nervous walking in as if I were refreshing my browser screen over and over the day grades or bar exam results were due. Of course, we had nothing to worry about – our girl’s a genius.   I mean, that isn’t exactly what the teacher said but I’m certain that is what she meant.   While Pumpkin can’t pedal a bike forward (she has backwards down) or hop on one leg (honestly, who can), she is excelling and amazing as always.   And let’s be honest, I still can’t skip and, while it took an intervention in the principal’s office by the ‘rents for me to pass kindergarten, the inability to skip has not impeded my educational or professional pursuits in any way.   ...

I must say, I never truly understood the difficulty with "hustlin'" that all these rappers have been carrying on about for years.  I mean, to be honest, I am not entirely sure that I know what "hustlin'" really means, but I have something of an idea of how difficult it is after this weekend.  And, as all of the gangsters would have us know, it really is a hard job. See, over the course of this weekend I may have hit REM sleep once.  On the couch.  At 1 PM.  And even then my head only stayed on the pillow for about 20 minutes.  I, like many hustlers I imagine, spent most of the weekend nights awake.  I saw midnight, I saw 2 AM, I saw 3 AM, I saw it all.  The quietest part of my "nights" this weekend was the hour between 5 AM and 6 AM.  Even hustlers need to re-up. What was I doing during those waking hours?  Well, what is any hustler doing during the wee hours of the morning?  Dealing with beautifu...

I feel like I got hit on the head with a large board that reads: THIS IS YOUR LIFE.   If my life were a cartoon, little animated stars would have swirled around for a few seconds and then I would have shaken myself straight and seen clearly.   For the first time.   Ever.   What I mean is this, as much as I’ve written about how much I cherish my sweet girls and love being a mother (mostly), I still haven’t actually started living my life. Let me try to explain it again. My entire existence from the time I can remember has been about accomplishments.   And I have to say, this isn’t because my parents were those crazy-competitive-ballpark parents.   They totally weren’t.   This is something innate.   Before I could do much of anything, I already forced my mother to make me a schedule to follow so I could be sure I was doing what I was supposed to be doing.   Anyone who knows my mom knows for certain the scheduling wasn’t her idea. ...