My shoes

At best, my wardrobe has always been conservative. I have never been that interested in fashion; I have always worn my hair down. My jewelry is pretty straight-forward, when I wear any. My make-up is the same for day and evening.  This morning, I put a bit of lip gloss on, and Jack actually asked what was different about my face.

This past weekend, I was going through my closet and pulling out things to donate, and Jossie surveys my shoes, her baby doll clutched in her hand. She pulls out a very worn pair of Cole Haan flats. She sets them on the floor and says, “pretty shoes,” which couldn’t be further from the truth.

She slips her feet into them. My heart melts a little at this moment of my daughter trying on my shoes.

But I almost feel sorry for Joss. Her mama doesn’t own glamorous high heels. Or even some good sparkly shoes. Or shoes that aren’t black.

But they are mine.  I have walked miles in those shoes. I have felt sad, happy, proud, and disgruntled in those shoes.

And she is mine. For now.  She doesn’t look at me with adoration or disdain. Right now, I’m just the Truth – mama, protector and provider.  These are my shoes and they are pretty because they are her mama’s, and that is good enough for now.

Getting my act together

We are going to list our condo in a few weeks. I have been lacking the motivation and the focus to get our condo show-worthy. Part of me doesn't want to pull our stuff out, looking at everything we have that we don’t use. Part of me doesn't want to run my hands over my chipped dinner dishes or look over my old wrinkled clothes, feeling like I should replace them and feeling wasteful at the same time. But mostly, I don’t want to add more work to my plate – more work that doesn't involve the kids. I want to push the moving boxes aside, grab Jack’s and Jossie’s little hands and head straight to a museum. I don’t want to worry about packing, finding the right house and, frankly, reorienting my life.

I like my city mama life. I have a well-worn path between my condo and my workplace. We have a trusted and loved daily caregiver for the kids. And I love the kids’ schools, pediatricians and classes. I have my grocery stores. I have my shortcuts and my ways. Life is working.

***

Sunday afternoon, our family attended a brunch/art project for current families in the Prentice NICU. We've thanked the nurses and doctors and celebrated with NICU grad families, but this was my and Jeremy's first experience with direct services with current families.

Given my hesitancy for change, this was a good reminder for me. The biggest change of my little life so far has been motherhood, and in the case of being a preemie mom, you’re thrown into the deep end before you even expect it.

Granted – the group who attended the brunch were self-selected – but I was impressed with the handful of mothers I spoke with and their willingness to work through the change they have been given. They were ready to learn, to share with others about their experiences and make Valentine’s Day artwork for their little ones’ pods. One new mom just had her baby the day before! I was only with them for an hour but was reminded of my own changes in my life and how they weren't solved overnight – there was a period of transition and hard work.  In respect to the NICU, each day Jossie was there felt like an eternity. And besides the whole leaving my newborn there every day for 22 days, there were also the grody tasks of dealing with insurance, figuring out what to do with work (since I left early) and childcare for Jack. And now it is but a brief memory.

Jossie and Jack are my beautiful rewards of Jeremy's and my hard work. One current NICU mom kindly squeezed my hand and told me that seeing a healthy, lively Jossie “made her day.” (This was on our way out the door – if I had known that sooner, I would have asked Jossie to count to 10 and run backwards to show off her skills.) The NICU receptionists sang the kids’ praises. Two years ago, I couldn't envision today – and I wish I could have.

And so back to that darn stuff in my condo. It will get organized and packed. The toys that stay will be stored in clever ways to hide during showings but to also remain accessible to the kids’ whims. And getting my act together at home and making hard decisions about our move with Jeremy will be part of something bigger. It will allow us to move to a bigger space. To join a new community. To host more family and friends. To create a home for our family. Thinking about the bigger goals of tomorrow makes the finite tasks of today much more manageable.

And that, I suppose, can apply to all levels of our lives. Happy week ahead, my friends.

What do you think? Please hit "comments" below and post your thoughts. Readers' comments are important to the value and relevance of a blog!

All you need is...

Jack's preschool teacher is fond of reminding the students that if you are nice to the class bunny, then Ms. Hopsy Cabbage will be nice to you. A loved bunny is a happy bunny.

I have two some bunnies who were driving me crazy at home tonight. After our holiday weekend of fun, it was back to work today. When I got home at 5 p.m., toting my Target purchases and trying to shake off the chilly Chicago temperatures, I had no break. There is no happy hour. No civility. It's right into mama mode, making dinner, negotiating squabbles, giving baths and brushing the teeth of a thrashing toddler.

The end of the night was laughably bad - Jossie and I had toothpaste all over our clothes and the bathroom floor had large puddles of water. I asked Jack the same question about seven times before he responded; he was too busy hopping around our living room, which was strewn with toys. I was tired.

Lately, I've had tiny triumphs at work - shared and personal. Even just tonight - while the crazy ensued at home - my boss emailed me about two major gifts coming our way. And as a fundraiser, I'm constantly thinking about my organization's outcomes and how we can accurately show progress to our donors.

Successes at home are a lot harder to measure, which is hard for my Type A brain to comprehend. Success comes in different ways - me keeping some bit of calm rather than reaching the end of my rope tonight is a tiny success. Me reading to the kids and them settling down to enjoy the stories is a tiny success. Jack and Jossie both falling asleep in my arms, all of us cuddled in Jack's twin bed is a tiny success, with a little heavenly intervention surely thrown in.

I'm never going to be a perfect mom. I will lose my temper from time to time. I will lean on TV - dear sweet TV - to entertain my kids while I make dinner. And I will wish I could just have some Peace and Quiet once in awhile.

But for now - these little bunnies are little. And needy. They need me and my love and the structure I bring to our home. I know they will benefit from what I'm trying to do here - for them to know they are loved above anything else.

A loved bunny is a happy bunny.

What do you think? Please hit "comments" below and post your thoughts.

It's time

This holiday season, I have a new decoration - a "Happy Holidays" metal sign with lots of swirls to tuck holiday cards into. It's overflowing with adorable pictures of my family and friends' little ones.

You and me - we can't let those little ones down.

Today there was a horrific tragedy for our nation. Twenty-eight dead at a Connecticut elementary school because of a gunman; 20 of the total are children. 11 days before Christmas.

Today, we mourn. We hold our children close. We put posts on Facebook and tweet on Twitter, crying for stricter gun laws and sending our prayers to those families who lost their children. We light the candles on the menorah and the lights on the Christmas tree to represent hope. We even quote Mr. Rogers because we need common sense and a reminder of the good in the world.

Today can last as long as we need it to. To grieve. To try to make sense of a senseless act. To send peace to the families who have experienced the unthinkable. Let us have today.

But tomorrow will come.

When you become a parent, your heart is not within you any more. It walks to the bus stop; it plays at the playground; it sits in a school classroom.

We have to do something, and it's time. My readers - you - have resources at your disposable and it's time we use them. I've learned a lot from 2012, and one of my biggest lessons is that something big can start from something small. So let's have faith that we can make a change. Let's make our schools safer for our kids. For our Jack. For our Jossie. For your son. For your daughter.

It's time to write our legislators. It's time we make donations to relevant non-profits. It's time we recognize the need to make mental health care accessible for all. It's time we - you and me -  stand up to bullying and the effects it has.

Please join me. Here's a petition to sign.

And tonight, let's kiss our sleeping sweet children on their heads.

A mother's memories

Jack bounced on me this morning at 6:22 a.m. and asked me if it was still his birthday.

No, I replied. It's over.

We had a great weekend, and now I'm exhausted. My house is a disaster, and Roscoe the cat puked under our dining room table. I'll clean it up eventually.

Planning special events is a part of my professional work but I still get worked up about planning family events - guests in town; a kids' birthday blow-out Saturday afternoon; and a casual dinner party Saturday night. Everything went better than expected but I have to say, the best moments were the unplanned ones. Cherished memories - the moments I will hold most closely to my heart - include:

• After Jack's preschool class had cupcakes Friday to celebrate Jack's birthday, the teacher turned on the music and the kids had a spontaneous dance party. While many of the boys stood to the side, Jack and his friend Nicholas were right there in the thick of it, letting the girls grab their hands and dance in circles. It was just fun - being kids and being silly.
• Jack's cousin Andrew slept over. They fell asleep in the same twin bed, arms intertwined. 
• Last night, we had some of our family and friends over for dinner. Sitting at the dining room table, it was just really nice. And maybe that's the wine talking.
• Jeremy's parents bought Jack a bike today. We took him to a park to practice. It's a mild day in Chicago, and Jack was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and his new Star Wars watch from BFF Charlie. We watched him ride his bike joyfully, his scrawny little arms and hands gripping the handles. It was pure joy for him.
• Jossie and her piece of birthday cake. Enough said.

Go get 'em this week!

Desperately seeking Ina

Coconut cupcakes.

Those were the words I planned to say to Ina Garten at her book-signing today at the Barnes & Noble at Old Orchard Mall in Skokie, Ill. Ten years ago, my then-roommate Emily came home from her friend's bridal shower and was raving about the coconut cupcakes that someone had made from a Barefoot Contessa cookbook. We did our research, bought The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook, and discovered her new show on Food Network. A love affair began. Since Jeremy's parents have a house in East Hampton, NY, where Ina's show is based, I am not afraid to frequent (or stalk, call it what you want) many of Ina's favorite haunts, like The Seafood Shop and Loaves and Fishes. My sister Laura and I once stopped at the Bridgehampton Florist, hoping to see the owner Michael, a frequent guest on Ina's show.

And I have been known to slowly ride my mother-in-law's bicycle past Ina's tall hedges, in hopes that Ina might be out in the driveway and would wave me in for a drink in her garden.

One can dream.

Alas, due to the storms out east (my New York-dwelling in-laws are fine, by the way - sister-in-law is still without power but hoping it will be restored tomorrow), the book tour was understandably postponed. I did not do my research ahead of time, so Jossie and I were dismayed to see this sign this morning when we arrived at the bookstore.

I will probably not be able to make it to the rescheduled signing, so I will resume my quest to run into Ina next summer.

I had anticipated that we'd have some time on our hands regardless of the book-signing, so I had signed Jossie up for a trial Gymboree class. The instructor was enthusiastic and engaging. (When we first arrived, he tried making small talk with my 21-month-old about her Halloween costume. She just gave him her signature wilting stare but quickly warmed up.)  Jossie loves to dance and move and had the best time.

As we sat in a circle at the end, I brushed my lips against the back of her head and held her close.

It hit me then how little time I really get with my daughter one-on-one, with her being the youngest and me working full-time. She is good about fitting in and going with Jack's flow but it was nice to see her personality on her own. I love watching her with other kids - she quietly surveys her fellow students. One adorable little boy was tugging on a colorful fabric tunnel in class, and Jossie jumped in and started tugging the other side of the tunnel, gauging his reaction.

So the cancelled book-signing did not ruin our day. It was really nice to have this time with Jossie, my little love. I can only imagine what life will give this mother-daughter duo. Maybe someday she'll join me for that bike ride past Ina's house.

Happy Friday, loves.

Full circle

Earlier this year, my family and friends participated in the March for Babies walk along Chicago's lakefront. I am not sure how, but this connected me directly to the executive director of the Chicago office of the March of Dimes. I started receiving emails from her and I found myself volunteering to serve on the host committee for a reunion of NICU families, doctors and nurses at Prentice Women's Hospital at Northwestern Memorial.

Today was the reunion. I was there early and chatted with my fellow volunteers. The other mothers and I told our preemie stories in stats - how many weeks gestation, how many weeks we were in the NICU, and how old our children are now. And I realized I was a bonafide member of the family-centered care committee now for the NICU at Prentice, a volunteer opportunity I will surely relish in the coming months.

It's a pretty good day in my book when I can thank and hug the NICU nurses who provided loving care to Jossie. One of our favorites, Juanita, was as excited to see us as we were to see her. She held us up while we were in the NICU - she encouraged me to stay home for my safety during the Chicago blizzard and she was there to discharge Jossie on her last day in the NICU, tightly rolling up blankets to put in Jossie's car seat to keep her snug.  She has a set of twins who were born at 34 weeks, so she gets it. 

It is no secret that I was pretty sad after Jossie's birth. It was part-baby blues and part-this lack of control of my baby's birth. Perspective and time have allowed me to move on. And I'm so glad I have. I'm so glad to be here, given an opportunity to share my grateful thanks to the doctors and nurses and to lend a helping hand to new NICU families. And my kids are healthy. I feel so fortunate.

Book review: "Bringing up Bebe"

I admit: My parenting style is a weird hybrid of working-outside-of-the-home mothering and attachment parenting. This week alone, I left two mornings before the kids awoke and I discovered that Jossie calls Maria "Mommy." And then there's my other side - I nurse Jossie still; Jack sometimes sleeps with us; and I baby-wear.

Weird.

Parenting is messy. This is no perfect equation. 

I just finished a good book that gives one viewpoint on parenting called Bringing Up Bebe: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting by Pamela Druckerman. And since it's two weeks overdue at the library, I thought it was high time I shared my thoughts with you on this good read.

The author is an American living in Paris, and the book details her observations on French parenting - mostly those of educated Parisian parents. This is not a how-to guide book to parenting - it's a collection of observations with supporting research and humorous anecdotes.

My favorite idea was that "...autonomy is one of a child's most basic needs." (p. 256) The Parisians give their kids a sense of responsibility and ownership of their own feelings, starting at a very young age. They guide their children but don't do everything for them. And from infancy on, there is an emphasis on strict sleeping and eating guidelines.  There are few kids' menus in French restaurants, the author observes; children to learn to eat what their parents eat.

I also liked the idea of parents still remembering they are individuals and are emotionally separate from their kids. Kids will have disappointments in life, and we can't always be there to make it right. But we can give them the right tools to be sage (French term for wise) to rely upon themselves.

Maria, one of my personal parenting gurus, always says that you if you set expectations for children, they will rise to them. This book speaks to that - expect more and you will get more. This book details the respect had for Parisian children as individuals, even from an early age. They believe that this respect and trust are recipe for a happy life.

This book has a lot more - details on letting children explore new things and take classes so to not to get a higher SAT score but to discover the pleasurable things of life. There are also thoughts on publicly provided childcare, giving mamas more opportunities to balance work and family.  This book is not the end-all in parenting, but it's a good read. You can never have too many perspectives on parenting, no?

Golden memories

When I was in high school, my family was invited to a family friends' lakeside cabin in Canada. I have fond memories of this trip - swimming in the lake, picking blueberries, and attempting to fish and water ski. There were good dinners and a cozy hammock to hide away in to do my summer required reading. We slept in the room above the boat house, lulled to sleep at night by the water gently lapping the lake shore.

I only have nice memories from the trip but I vaguely remember my parents having car trouble with our mini-van; I'm sure my sisters and I fought; and there were probably a few teenage angst moments of being on vacation with my parents. It's nice to know that the good stuff has withstood the test of time.

I'm hoping we're making some golden memories for Jack and Jossie today. We just returned from a week's vacation out east with Jeremy's family. It was time spent in the pool and at the beach. There were ice cream cones in town, a ferry ride at sunset, and Jack triumphantly getting the ring on the carousel.

 

And, yes, there were the not-so-awesome moments of both kids melting at a children's concert; Jossie waking up six out of the eight nights we were there, screaming and crying; and the overall chaos that two small kids bring to a house.  But there was also time spent together and with Jeremy's family. There was Jack loving life as he rode in the back of Papa's convertible (in his booster seat, of course). There were visits to the duck pond. There were dinners full of local vegetables and fruits.

The kids fell asleep every night as soon as their heads hit the pillow. Jeremy and I had some time alone, enjoying a bottle of wine and smelling the salty air at Beacon, as well as wine tasting at Channing Daughters Winery.

It was a wonderful time, restorative and relaxing. The good memories will be the memories that last.

We're home now, savoring the last few weeks of summer and readying ourselves for fall.

Score

Posts have been far and few between this summer. You are not missing much; I assure you.

I have been battling strep throat since Memorial Day. I am on my fourth antibiotic. (See, I'm boring you already.) Also, much like the rest of the United States, Chicago has been broiling hot, so we've been spending a lot of time indoors. Fun.

Jossie has been perfecting her walking and picking up new words daily. We took her and Jack to soccer class this weekend. One of her favorite words is "ball," so I thought she would love soccer.

Turns out, she loves to play catch. Running around, listening to the "coach" and sitting quietly in a circle? Not so much.

Granted, she was the very youngest in class. Her favorite activity was making routine beelines out of the class area.  As we were running with the other children and parents in a "race," her feet barely skimming the ground as I pulled her along, she gave me a look like, "this is nuts, lady."

As we did an "obstacle course," and I had her "jumping" over obstacles, a Cheerio flew off of her.

And at the end, when the coach pulled out a parachute, she instructed the parents to put the children atop the parachute in the middle. I remember us doing this with a 9-month-old Jack at a Gymboree class in 2008. The parents gently fluttered the parachute, which freaked out the babies, and Jack's little baby friend Nate protectively held onto the back of Jack's little shirt. A blast from the past:

I assumed today we'd do the same thing with our babies, but the coach instructed us to run in a circle, turning the parachute as the babies sat on it.  I watched Jossie's reaction and was surprised to see she was okay. And then she wasn't okay. She frantically started to sign "All done!" and then burst into tears. I jumped in as soon as I could.

She recovered and all was fine. Jack did a great job in his big boy class. He still has my nonathletic genes in him, but he's getting more and more proficient in dribbling and passing the ball. I couldn't be more proud of him for just trying.

2028 Summer Olympic bound? Maybe, maybe not. But we're having fun.

Roots

Yesterday, Openlands' staff and some special guests toured a patchwork of community-powered food-growing gardens, small and large, throughout Chicago.

I was struck by the blighted Englewood neighborhood in Chicago. It's notorious for being the murder capital of Chicago. Boarded-up buildings are the norm, and even on a beautiful, sunny June day, it just has a beat-down feeling to it.

However, in the middle of this neighborhood is a little oasis - Hermitage Street Community Garden. This one-year-old allotment garden is fueled by the neighbors' passion - families each have a plot to plant their strawberries, squash and tomatoes. The chief community organizer told us that the space is also used for gatherings - a neighborhood safe haven. Other neighbors are being inspired to claim other abandoned lots to make their own gardens.

We also visited the Chicago Botanic Garden's Green Youth Farm in Chicago's Washington Park (Chicago had proposed this park as a major site during its bid for the 2016 Summer Olympics.) The coordinator of this education/summer job program told us many stories. One was about the daily routine of going around the group of high school students, where they'd receive feedback on things they were doing well and one thing they needed to work on. One student broke down in tears, the coordinator recounted. Not because of the room-for-improvement feedback but because of the positive feedback. She explained no one had given her that reinforcement before.

And so.

I can always relate these things back to parenthood, can't I?

Chicago has lots of week-long camp options. You could be a superhero one week and a zoo explorer the next. This week, Jack is participating in his first day camp experience at our tennis club. I was nervous - I've been to the club but I didn't have a chance to meet his counselors or see what he'd be doing. And Monday night, Jack was whispering into his plate, "you're bad." This set off a tiny alarm for me.

I pressed him to tell me more. In my head, I'm imagining older, bigger boys jeering my son and his clumsy ways (he has my genes, let's be frank). I briefly considered homeschooling.

In reality, he and a girl  apparently got into a row about a water bottle, and this little girl declared him "bad."

Jack and I talked about how he can behave with this fellow camper and then just overall about how he feels about himself. We can't control what people say to us, I told him, but we can control how we think about it and how we act.

Who knows what sank in.

This morning, I related the high school student's reaction to positive feedback to Jeremy. In the next breath, I asked Jack what makes him special. He just hugged me.

My kids know they are loved and how to love. I hope this helps to build them a strong foundation to rely upon as they grow. I can't be at every thing Jack will take on in life, nor should I be. He will need to rely upon his own foundation of what he believes....kind of like the hope and strength the gardeners in Englewood are cultivating and propagating.

A healthy reminder

Today, after three years of planning and $30 million spent, the 100+ patients at Children’s Memorial Hospital were moved to their new digs at the new Ann and Robert H. Lurie Children's Hospital in downtown Chicago. This move has been on my mind and heart. As Jeremy and I took the kids for an outing to the Green City Market early this morning, we sat at the intersection of Stockton Drive and Fullerton Avenue as two ambulances drove past us. I felt very emotional seeing those ambulances pass us – thinking about all of the care, attention and love had gone into today, ensuring those precious children got the best care they can. I’m grateful for that honor of life and all of the resources we have to protect it.

Later in the day, we would find ourselves walking outside the old hospital, as it’s near our friends’ house we were visiting for an afternoon party. I struck up conversation with one of the police officers directing traffic around the hospital, and she good-naturedly griped that she had volunteered to do this work. I thanked her for doing this important work and she told me to enjoy the day for her while she toiled in the hot sun.

And we did. You know me – the Green City Market is my favorite and complete with a walk around the Lincoln Park Zoo’s nature boardwalk – well, I’m in heaven.

We came home with semolina bread, a handful of peonies, two quarts of strawberries and lettuce.

I then took Jack to another volunteer opportunity with Openlands – to help clean up a school garden on Chicago’s west side – we were literally a stone’s throw from the United Center. I’m continually re-adjusting my expectations of what Jack will get out of an experience – I think he was pretty good today. He enjoying digging in the dirt and kept the complaining to a minimum.

As his cheeks got flushed from the warm weather, we took off for home to clean up for a birthday party at our friends’ house.

My children clung to me all day. Jossie is becoming a willful toddler, and Jack never stops talking. Roscoe the cat peed in a clean basket of clothes today. Altogether, this was exhausting. It’s this fine balance. Sometimes I want to throw up my hands in frustration or fall down in exhaustion from the daily care of my kids, our house and my work. But they’re healthy, and I know to appreciate that.

A bunch of pastors saw me in my bathing suit

Tonight, Jack wanted me to take him to swim class. Usually, I sit on the side lines, towel in hand, while Daddy's in the pool with Jack. But tonight, Jack wanted me. I wasn't excited to go public in my bathing suit, but I was excited for Jack to be enthusiastic about class.

We're enrolled in a great program - Chicago Blue Dolphins. The only issue currently is that their facility is under construction, so our classes are held at other various locations throughout the city. Tonight, Jack's class was held at the student center at Moody Bible Institute. It's fine for us - close to home. And while I was already feeling a little self-conscious in my bathing suit and cover-up, I just had to laugh when we got to the center - we walked right into a pastor convention. Ah, life. I'm not sure what was more a spectacle - us coming in with me in my bathing suit and cover-up or when we left after class, me, having changed out of my wet suit, was wearing my industrial-strength nursing bra underneath my cover-up with spaghetti straps, a wet pool towel draped around my neck and me pretending it was a scarf.

Jack's gaining more and more confidence in the water. However, he's still not a big fan of putting his face in the water, which continues to hold him back from advancing to the next level. His least favorite part of class is when the teacher holds on him and "swims" him over to me, briefly getting his face wet. Right before she started moving, he looked at me intently, his goofy Spiderman goggles on his face, and his wet hair sticking up in all directions. I held my breath, puffing my cheeks out, and he mimicked me, filling his little cheeks with air. The teacher pushed him toward me, briefly dunking him, and he came up, looked at me surprised and then smiled.

It's one of those parenting moments I could either cry or laugh - I love that boy so much and how much he trusts me. It's a moment of giving him the skills to do something for himself, when all I really want to do is keep him little and mine forever.

And yet, we parents continue on, helping our children to find their own strength and master new skills. Giving them the bravery and confidence to take on new challenges.

Even if it means getting a little embarrassed myself.

Carry on

Yesterday I was recognized for my 10 years with Openlands at our board meeting. The same board member who called this to the board's attention, also spoke with me before the meeting. He told me how sincerely proud he was of me and my accomplishments. I am never good at thinking on my feet, so I simply said thank you with a tiny tear in my eye - when I could have said so more.

A week ago, I told a friend I wasn't sure what to make of being with one organization for so long, but I concluded with "well, I'm happy, and that means something right?"

It's the people who go beyond being my coworkers and my board volunteers. It's their passion for our work and their compassion for one another. Even after a particularly stressful week, I still feel blessed of where I am. My salary helps our family, to be sure, but beyond that, I've made a conscience decision of where to work. It is a place that remembers that family comes first and fits with my lifestyle. And, truth be told, it feels good to knock things off of my to-do list at work when home can be so...messy.

As I was leaving work, headed for the elevator, I told a co-worker with a tired smile, "All I want to do is go home and climb under the covers."

"But, instead, you have to go home to care for two little people," she said, reading my mind.

Yet then she went on, past my own thoughts.

"Two people whose favorite person in the whole world is you."

And so I am carried on. Work is hard and work is rewarding but motherhood is still the greatest job for me.

I was immediately put to the test - Jack was a grump. With our strategic planning process at work, we're learning a lot about the "presenting issue" - the real issue behind the issue. This can be applied to parenting.

Jack was upset about Maria leaving with his second booster seat but I know underneath it all, he was just tired and needed his mama's cuddles. And again, I carry on, as I held him, hoping and praying I'm making the best choices by working full-time and still trying to be the best hands-on mama I can be for my kids.

That's all the best we can hope for, right? That we are making the best choices for ourselves and for our families. And that everything evens out in the long run.

Happy Friday, gentle readers.

My firstborn

Jack likes to sleep in our bed. If I'm among mixed crowds, I pretend like that it's actually part of our approach to parenting, and I throw around words like "family bed" and "co-sleeping." Working at a conservation organization helps with my street cred.

Jeremy and I will often wake up with Jack kicking one of us, Roscoe the cat sleeping soundly between my legs and Jossie tucked in the crook of my arm. If it's a Saturday or Sunday morning, I do enjoy having them all heaped atop of us. These days aren't going to last forever, and I'm relishing it.

But that said, I would really just like a good night's rest as a working mama. And that typically involves avoiding having bony little kids - who repeatedly kick - out of your bed.

So we started our campaign for Jack to sleep in his own bed this month. Every night he sticks to his own bed, we reward him in the morning with a sticker on the calendar. There was one day when he did come in sort-of early but he declared he was just popping in to "check on us" before headed back to bed, so we let it slide.

After accumulating the requisite number of stickers, Jack was awarded with a trip to the Lego store last week, that lucky boy. We picked out a new toy and he promptly put it together with our help that night. (If anyone has tips on what the heck we're actually supposed to do with these assembled Lego creations once they're built, please do let me know.)

And now we're starting to slide back into our old ways. The last two nights, I've woken up to Jack snuggling in beside me.

I talked with Jack about it this morning - we were all exhausted. Both kids had been up all night at differing intervals. Remember me waxing poetry about my friends' newborn yesterday? I love newborns - but not their nightlife. I told Jack I was taking drastic measures - if he got in our bed again, he'd get a black X on the calendar, rather than a sticker.

Jack can do your good, old-fashioned WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH freak-out when he doesn't like what he hears but he can also do the wet-eyes, sad puppy-dog look, which he did this morning after I made my declaration.

"No, Mommy. No X's," he said tearfully. "I want lots of check marks and stickers instead."

Is he a firstborn or what?

Happy Friday!

An everyday hero

Jack has a box of superhero costumes that we've stashed under his train table. He'll mash-up costumes - a Superman cape paired with a Green Lantern mask and Spiderman arm shields and take on the monsters lurking in our closets.

Lately, I'm been reading a lot about real-world heroism.

I'm continually amazed about the story about the woman from Indiana who saved her children's lives while losing her own legs; I think of the parents who lost their children to the terrible shootings in Chardon, Ohio, 20 minutes from my hometown, and how they must find the strength to carry on; and I just found this blog and I can't stop reading this woman's story of losing her son.

I have no doubt that I would do anything to protect my children in this world. But please let me never be put to the test. So, that said, how can be we everyday heroes?

Sometimes I feel like I fall hopelessly short. Last night, Jack took his cup of milk and turned it upside down when he didn't like the dinner he was served. As he was sent to his room for a timeout, he took a picture his preschool teachers had left for me in his cubbie at school and crumpled it up and then went to his room, knocking everything off of his bed and dresser.

I had it.

I could almost see the words blowing out of my mouth. "I am. So. UPSET," I said right into his little face.

His tears ensued as he sat on his bed.

I took Jossie for a bath, and Jack straightened his act out. With Jeremy, he cleaned up his room and ate the dinner that sat waiting for him. He then came to me and put his bony arms around my neck, as I was sitting on the bathroom floor, drying off Jossie.

I couldn't help it but I started to cry - mostly out of exhaustion and frustration and then a little beating myself up for being weak in front of my kids - who wants to see their mom cry? I looked at Jack and his eyes were wet and he held me tight, and I told him, I can get upset but I would always love him.

Trust me, my son can use tears when he doesn't get his way or a toy he wants - but to see true sadness for feeling bad was noteworthy. I wasn't sure if I should be grateful for his empathy or truly ashamed that I elicited this reaction from him.

So anyways, I'm not perfect.

But, as I'm wont to do, here are my thoughts on what I've learned so far in my wee four years of parenting to be my own everyday hero. And yes, they're touchy-feely: Give your kids structure and set limits. Remind them often they are loved. Do things that you love so they can see you as your own person. Embrace different because it can be awesome. Think about your community and the role you play. Be present in the moment. Be aware. Be intentional. See things through. And cut yourself breaks. And drink wine.

What would you add? If you're reading this post, I ask you to leave a comment. Please. I'll even give you a new Pandora station to try: look up singer/songwriter Jillian Edwards. You'll love her.

One for the road

Today I took my first business trip since my 1998 jaunt to a printing plant in Winston-Salem, NC as the then-yearbook editor at Northwestern. My big adventure today wasn’t so big – a day trip to Milwaukee for a land trust conference via Amtrak.  Woo-wee.

I never really experienced the highs and lows of business travel – the late-night sing-a-longs in a lonely hotel lobby I’m assuming you people do, so this experience was quite the novelty. Even after spilling a cup of coffee on myself in the wee hours of the morning on the train, I still chuckled when Jeremy texted me that both kids were awake and ready to start their day at 5:40 a.m. Ah, peace and quiet, how I’ve missed you, gentle friends.

And it was a really productive day – I attended two great sessions that hopefully will help me grow professionally and, in turn, help my organization. I also met some nice people and – Jeremy – if we’re ever in Missoula, Montana, I have a friend we can stay with.

Yet my mind always goes back to my first and most dear profession: Motherhood. And in honor of my good friend who’s going to be a first-time mama soon and is a seasoned business traveler, I present without further adieu:

Universal truths about motherhood and business travel:

1. No matter where you are or what time you woke up, it’s magical to watch the sun rise.
2. Always wear black; it hides stains (please see coffee spill above).
3. Anti-bacterial wipes are indispensible.
4. Calories still count so make good food choices.
5. You can never have too many tissues or napkins (please see coffee spill above).
6. People get grumpy when they are hungry and tired.
7. Playing nice always gets you further – you never know when you’ll need an ally or a buddy to help you out.
8. Make sure your batteries are always charged.
9. Expect and welcome diversions from the original plan.
10. A beer at the end of the day never hurt anyone.

What would you add? C’mon, give me your best.

Are you happy now?

My son Jack has asked me that question a lot in 2011. It's not the "are-you-happy-now?" (i.e., you will never be satisfied...) question.  It's more hopeful: Have the clouds parted, Mommy? The boy saw his mama cry many tears earlier this year and he has also been been nurturing his own sense of empathy, so he's very aware of my state of happiness/sadness. (And, blessedly, those moments of tears are very few and far between these days.)

So, here's my question to you: Are you happy now?

Articles like this one from two days ago surface frequently, citing studies that having children make you less happy. I'm often at a tough spot to say I'm really happy these days. I've got two small children who depend on me for everything. I have a strong network of local friends and, of course, Maria, for daily support, but both Jeremy's and my families live out of town and if you look at it through a practical lens, that's just one less daily resource we have. And, honestly, the only time I let myself relax is a few minutes at bedtime, when I read a few pages of a parents or food magazine or go on some preemie online board.

And there are times - even more so lately - when I fantasize about my old life. And they aren't even that great of fantasies - just the dream of being able to work until 7 p.m. during a weeknight (so I could finally get caught up at work) and then meet my husband out for dinner, a movie, a play or a visit to a jazz club. Sigh.

My life is a middle-class kind of difficult right now. My husband and I are blessed with jobs we love, a roof over our heads and we shop at Whole Foods. We don't have to worry about our next meal or the safety of our neighborhood. When I say that my life is hard, the difficulties lie in me trying to balance work and home as a full-time working mama primarily. And not having a lot of time for myself.

When you put things into a broader context - as I'm wont to do - and I think about the devastation in Joplin, Missouri this week - or Japan earlier this year - or the 10th anniversary of September 11, I know I have nothing to complain about. Nothing.

So, am I happy now? I am - pretty much.  I do admittedly miss my old life sometimes. Jeremy would have one awesome wine collection by now if we hadn't had kids. I probably would have been to Paris by now too. And let's not even think about the euphoric state Roscoe the cat would be in.

Here is what I know:

I have a lot of joy in my life. Joy comes from my daughter's smile and her kicky legs and my son learning the concepts of rhyming and opposites in a single week (and me having no idea if he's behind or ahead of kids his age).

I am blessed.

I am thankful.

I am excited about the future. Honestly, I cannot wait to see the people my son and daughter will become.

I would never say my life was meaningless before kids, but I certainly feel more purpose these days - especially at my day job of saving the planet for Jack and Jossie. And that makes me feel satisfied.

So what about you?

My day in two distinct acts

My morning: Jack is with Maria, and I'm at home. The cleaning lady was here yesterday, so everything is sparkling, relatively speaking. I've made an early-morning trip to Whole Foods to stock up on my over-priced, organic goodies.  I'm getting Openlands' work done and checking my email and voicemail while barreling through four loads of laundry. The TV and radio are off; the house is silent. Ingredients for tonight's dinner and brunch tomorrow are laid out on the counter in a row. Roscoe the cat is stretched out, napping in the morning sun.

My afternoon: Jack and I are just getting back from Costco. I'm hoping my purse still contains my cell phone and wallet and I haven't dropped them anywhere. My rolling cart is overflowing with things, including a box of fresh spinach that Jack has already pre-wilted for me by stepping on several times. My Costco-sized container of grapes is agape and a few grapes are rolling out of the cart. My coat pockets are full of little letters that Maria bought at Jo-Ann's to make Jack a birthday crown.  We have two birthday balloons for Jack - and yes, I never thought this would happen to me, but they got stuck in our elevator door (me holding the strings with the balloons not quite making it in). I frantically stop the elevator one floor up and we descend to retrieve them. Luckily, none of them broke. All this while, Jack is wailing like a fire engine and I'm just remembering that my newly potty trained boy is in undies. We stagger through the afternoon - Jack playing with toys while I catch up on work email. An afternoon nap finally prevails at 3:30 p.m., and now I'm sitting here contemplating when to wake him up as I eat chocolate-covered almonds. Or maybe I'll first get that fourth load of laundry out of the dryer that has been sitting there all afternoon.

Happy Friday! (And someone, please have a glass of wine for me.)

You start to cry when I say hello

End-of-the-workday reunions between child and working parent are often fraught with emotion. When baby is young, he can have the best day ever with his caregiver, but when he sees mom or dad, it's Niagara Falls - they save their most raw emotions for their beloveds. That was certainly the case for Jack. As he's gotten older and more toddler-ish, a lot of the times when he sees me, he's defiant and does not want to leave Nate's house, which is rough when you're tired, pregnant and ready to go home.

Don't get me wrong: We have had many a good greeting. Today was a good reunion that makes up for any of the less-than-desired ones. Maria drove Jack home, and I was waiting outside for them. As her Prius rounded the corner, I saw Jack craning his neck and saw the joy on his little face as he recognized me. Yes, as soon as he got out of the car, he was running away from me down the sidewalk, but I'll remember that sweet, little moment for a long time.

The craning of his little neck reminded me of this picture, taken one day after his birth. My baby bird: