Happy Solstice.

(image via tumblr)

Pause. Reflect. Release.

Glance at the sun.

See the moon and the starts.

Gaze at the beauty of the earth's greenings.

Now,

Think.

-Hildegard of Bingen

AB's 6th Birthday.

Oh, happy day.

Time with children runs through our fingers like water as we lift our hands, try to hold, to capture, to fix moments in a lens, a magic circle of images or word. We snap photos, videotape, memorialize while we experience a fast-forward in which there is no replay of even a single instant. - Louise Erdrich

Gifts for the Urban Mama.

1.essie nail polish in power clutch

2. essie nail polish in master plan

3. Working Mom Survival Guide

by Susan Riss & Teresa Palagano

4. NOOK Color from Barnes & Noble

5. Design*Sponge at Home

by Grace Bonney

6. Monocle magazine

7. Envirosax in Bloom

Thus far the mighty mystery of motherhood is this: How is it that doing it all feels like nothing is ever getting done.   
-Rebecca Woolf

Gifts for the Creative Girl.

1. On the Go Coloring Wallet from Spotted Stone Studios

2. Charley Harper Coloring Book

3. Natural Beeswax Crayons from Anthropologie

4. The Coloring Book by Herve Tullet

5. Woodland Branch Colored Pencils from LEIF

6. My Wonderful World of Fashion: A Book for Creating, Drawing and Dreaming by Nina Chakrabarti

When you learn, teach. When you get, give. -Maya Angelou

Just A Pen.

{image via flickr}

At breakfast this morning, AB angled a pen on a thick wicker placemat. The following exchange occurred:

"Hey Mom, the pen looks like a slide!"

"You're right! And you know, that's what is called an 'incline'."

"Or a pen."

Well, alrighty then.

There is so much that I want for her to learn. There are teachable moments all the time. However, in my earnest quest to expose her to as many cool and wonderful things as possible, I sometimes forget that she's only five. I don't need to take every single opportunity to introduce a concept or emphasize an idea.

Sometimes a pen is just a pen (that looks like a slide).

Inspiration Roundup.

(image via pinterest)

Things that inspired me this week:

• Kimberly's gratitude - tranquility du jour
• Kelly Rae's musings on being brave in sadness, brave in love - Taking Flight Into Art, Life and Love
• Danielle on respecting your natural abilities - white hot truth
• Roseline's Monday greetings - {this is glamorous}
• Bella's Wish List - J. Crew
• The New York Time 100 Notable Books of 2011 - The New York Times

Historical Biography Booklist: Politicos

I  have been a history geek since I was a little girl. I am particularly drawn to political history, so my non-fiction picture book offerings to AB have been slightly heavy in this department. But, I believe that it is important for me to impart on her that the things that she is able to do today are a direct result of the courage that someone had years ago to stand up and speak their mind.

Here are a few of my favorites:

Jack's Path of Courage: The Life of John F. Kennedy by Doreen Rappaport, illustrated by Tavares

Focusing on courage and perseverance, this book is a nice survey of the major points in JFK's life. I appreciate Rappaport including some more difficult aspects that are not so easily explained to young readers, such as the Cuban Missile Crisis. However, she does it simply and seemingly effortlessly. By not sugarcoating JFK's experiences for her audience, she allows for the theme of courage to shine even more brightly. She also works in excerpts from JFK's personal letters, speeches and interviews which lend authenticity. Tavares's illustrations are a brilliant aid. Jack's Path of Courage is a great way to introduce a child to John F. Kennedy, as well as the concept of primary and secondary resources in research.



What To Do About Alice? by Barbara Kerley, illustrated by Edwin Fotheringham

The illustrations are a fantastic fit to the story of rebellious Alice Roosevelt embodying the spirited nature of Theodore Roosevelt's oldest daughter. While she had her own share of struggles, losing her mother when she was a newborn and wearing leg braces for many years due to a mild case of polio, she resisted being pitied and bullied. This motivation drive her to be even more extraordinary. She truly "ate up the world" serving as a informal goodwill ambassador for her father during his presidency. She did not shy away from politics as an a "boys only" realm, instead she made herself an indispensable advisor to her father and husband.  Alice was outrageous and offensive as she eschewed the rules but that is what made her so fabulous. Oh Alice, indeed.



Eleanor, Quiet No More: The Life of Eleanor Roosevelt by Doreen Rappaport, illustrated by Gary Kelley

Juxtaposed with her exuberant cousin Alice, we have the more reserved (but no less opinionated) Eleanor. The illustrator's style in Eleanor, Quiet No More is a beautiful reflection of Eleanor's style reserved yet striking. Rappaport's effective style of interweaving the subject's own words into the story (as always) works wonderfully. Placing Eleanor, Quiet No More and What to Do About Alice? side by side and asking children to describe the kind of person the book is going to be about is a wonderful exercise in the power of illustration. It is also a way to emphasize that you don't have to be the loudest or most outgoing person in the room to be heard. It is important to speak up for what you believe in and Eleanor is a perfect example. Even if it did not align with public opinion, she still spoke up, whether it was against racism and discrimination (including disagreeing with her husband's decision to allow internment of Japanese-Americans during World War II) or in support of better housing, health care, and education. After her husband's death, she raised her voice to a global level, as she advocated for international human rights as U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations. Alice and Eleanor are two women that I introduce to my daughter as examples of strong women who informed themselves, formed intelligent opinions and entered the discourse, making great strides and paving the way.

Of Thee I Sing: A Letter To My Daughters by Barack Obama, illustrated by Loren Long

President Obama gathers an inspiring collection of Americans who have made contributions to American society through their varying talents including artists, scientists, atheletes, and activists. It helps underscore my belief that no matter what your personality, no matter what your talent, you can use your strengths to make a difference. It is also a great reminder that all children have a great mixture of creativity, intelligence, bravery, kindness, and perserverance in them, but it will manifest differently in every child. We as parents, teachers, aunts and uncles, friends and neighbors must be aware of the light that shines in every child. We must nuture it and protect it because (as cheesy as it sounds) it is true: the children are our future.

Happy Reading!

AB Pic of the Week.

Raising a Reader.

As self-professed bibliophile,  one of the first thoughts I had regarding how I would raise Annabelle was that I wanted her to be a Reader.  We still have her very first book, Princess. What exactly is a Reader?  A Reader is quite different from a reader.  A Reader is someone who loves books & articles,  the printed word.  Someone who reads for the sake of reading.  Someone who would rather read than look at a screen.  Someone who is never bored because they always have reading material in hand.  Someone who cannot leave the house without at least one book…just in case. I am a Reader, and I wanted AB to be a Reader as well.  

In those blissful first months, I would strap her into her Baby Bjorn and we would prowl the bookstores.  She was happy and content and so was I.  Her first room also served as my library, so she was surrounded by books from the very beginning. 

She has been a library regular since she was four months old.  She graduated from the Bjorn to the stroller to toddling around by herself.  Libraries were exciting places for her.  Once I was in law school and there were more demands on my time, I had the babysitter take her to the library instead of staying in our apartment. And I read to her whenever I could, on the train, on the bus, waiting for said transit, at bedtime, after dinner, while waiting for dinner to finish cooking. In addition, I was reading all the time, as well. Books, books, books, all the time.

I read tons of parenting books and articles about how to teach your child to read. The majority of them said to follow your children’s lead. When they are ready to learn how to read,  they will let you know. So, I continued what I was doing. Toward the beginning of this year, she expressed interest in learning how to read, beyond the recognition of street signs and store names. Needless to say, I was overjoyed with this seemingly sudden turn of events.

Her interest has snowballed.  There is no stopping her now. Everyday, multiple times a day, she asks, “Can you read with me?” She can read many of the books she chooses herself, but she wants me to watch her reading and be her backup for tricky words.

Multiple times a week she asks, “Can we go to the library?” She got her own library card in celebration of starting kindergarten.  She has picked up my habit of choosing based on covers. She comes to me with dozens of books stacked up to her chin ready to check out with her very own card. I no longer count the amount of books in her stack.  This is one extravagance I cannot deny her, for you can never have too many books.

I am not ashamed to admit that I use books as leverage. If she is acting up, I threaten that there will be no bedtime reading and she quickly straightens up. Once she egregiously misbehaved at the library and lost her library privileges for a week. She was devastated. Given the threats of cutting library funding all over the country,  I want her to understand that the ability to go to a library and check out books for free is a privilege,  not a right.  She has a responsibility to care for the books when they are in her possession. So far,  so good.  

There was a moment earlier this month where she was asking me repeatedly to read to her, choosing books over computer games, movies, television and even playing outside.  I thought, “My plan is working! AB's a Reader!”  and I was able to push through my selfish annoyance at not being able to read my own book, crawl into her reading nook, fold myself into criss-cross applesauce and read Chrysanthemum with her (again).

Here are my tips for raising a Reader:

1.      Surround them with books: Studies have shown that having books in the home is a key part of your child’s success in school.  Make books (and magazines, and newspapers)  easily accessible to them. Books,  especially quality picture books,  are quite expensive,  so take advantage of your local library where there are a wealth of materials available to you for free.

2.      Be a model reader: Little ones model their parents’ behavior.  “Do as I say, not as I do,”  is just not going to cut it when it comes to reading.  If your kiddo never sees you picking up a book for pleasure, then they are never going to want to do it either.

3.      Start early: From the very beginning read to your child.  Some even recommend reading to them in utero.  Make books and reading a part of daily life. Raising a Reader is really about making your lifestyle conducive to reading.  The early you start making the conscious decisions regarding literacy, the easier it will be to integrate them into your parenting style.

4.      Take advantage of teaching moments: Early on, I used my daughter’s name as my computer login password to help her learn how to spell her name.  She was stoked that she got to use Mommy’s computer, and she worked on letter recognition. Words are everywhere, so take advantage. Signs are a great starting point and it also helps your child become acquainted with their neighborhood and immediate surroundings.

5.      Follow their lead:  Don’t force learning to read on them.  If you are reading to them and making books available,  the time will come when they will want to repeat the words after you or ask you what a word means or how to say it.  Let them pick out their own books.  They are more likely to be engaged with something in line with their interests. 

6.      Make it fun: When I say that we are going to the library, my daughter literally shouts, “Yay!”  Going to the library or bookstore is a way to spending quality time with your kids as well as show them that you value books and reading.  When reading with them, get into the characters and act out the story.  Get them laughing.  Get them engaged.  It really only takes one fun time to make them want to do it again and again and again, attempting to recreate the magic of a great story. 

Happy Reading!

 

AB Pic of the Week.

The Kindergarten Pick-Up Artist.

While AB and I were at the library yesterday, I was approached by a cherubic little girl. She asked me if I would read a book to her. I suggested that she ask her dad, thinking that should be asking him to read to her. But instead, she was asking his permission for me to read to her. I was taken aback for a very brief moment, but then I thought, This kid wants to read so let's to read. AB was up for it, so we found a tiny table and started to read.

It soon became apparent that AB was a more advanced reader than our new friend. So I found myself trying to juggle an increasingly uninterested (and slightly jealous) 5 year old and a superinterested (and slightly hyper) 5 year old. After a few rounds of reading the first two pages from various books, interspersed with discussion of tomboys, princesses, and school fundraisers (oddly enough), the girls and I took the fun outside. We got permission from her dad (again) and went to the playground next to the library.

It was there that we proceeded to swing, run, climb, slide, spin, tag, hide, and seek until our new friend had to leave for a less (hello there, Mr. Extracurricular). However, her father and I made plans for the girls to meet again this afternoon.

There were two things that impressed me about this experience. First, the ease with which little kids become friends. The girls had never laid eyes on one another before. They didn't know each other's names (and still don't). But they quickly bonded over a love reading and playing. It was just so easy. Second, the confidence with which our new friend approached me with her reading proposal. I think part of it was her personality, which could definitely be described as gregarious. Yet, I also believe that it stemmed from experience. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that AB and I were not the first kid-parent duo she had picked up at the library. And I found that to be kind of awesome.

This unexpected playdate was truly unexpected joy, which is hands down the best kind. 

AB Pic of the Week.

Absent Presence: Reflections on Solo Parenting

Single mamahood is not all rainbows and butterflies. It is not everyday euphoria about being able to parent your offspring as you want with no interference.

Single mamahood is messy, frustrating and lonely.

Granted, this could be said about any parenting. But the journey of a single parent in the absence of involvement from the other parent is something quite different. Single mamahood is rough. No question. It is not something that you can do halfway. Single mamas don't have the luxury to be lazy. We get all the highs but we also get all the lows.

I've been on this single mama road for the past six years. It has not gotten any easier. In some ways, it has gotten harder because AB is now aware. She has memories of her (inconsistent) father. She realizes that her family is different than the other kids. She knows. She knows more than I would like based on her own (not so great) experiences with her father. Yet at the same time, I am grateful that I don't have to explain or skirt around the issue of why her father is not in her life. However, I am not proud of the fact that when she wants to talk about him with me (and only me) she whispers in secret her thoughts about how she loves him but does not like him.

As she grow older, more of her features and mannerisms are similar to his. The look on her face when she is dancing or finds something truly hilarious. I look at her and see him. This brings up new feelings for me. Just when I thought that I had successfully mastered the emotions of parenting alone, when I see him in her, his failures as a parent feel like my own. I wonder if my feelings of shame, embarrassment and failure will ever go away. I wonder if I will ever stop trying to (over)compensate for his absence.

It is rather amazing how someone who is absent can have such a presence in our lives. It is because I give his absence power. The power is fueled by hurt. That is what these feelings are really all about. My anger stems from the fact that he hurt me by not living up to my expectations.

I need to let that go. It is time to let that go.

Because despite his failings, AB is her own person. Those smiles and shuffling feet are hers, not his.

She is not him.

She is not me.

She is the best of both of us.

I need to remember that. It is time to remember that.

AB Pic of the Week.

Autumn Picture Book List

What comes to mind when we think of autumn? Why leaves, apples, pumpkins and ghosts, of course! Here are seven selections that AB and I have picked up recently from the library in celebration of autumn.

1.  Let It Fall by Maryann Cocca-Leffler

A pleasant jaunt with a family through the fall season from raking leaves to apple picking to harvest festivals, its all there.  For such a simple story it backs a lot in and is a great jumping off point for discussing autumn with the kiddo, not to mention suggestions for fun fall activities.

2.  Amelia Bedelia’s First Apple Pie written by Herman Parish, illustrated by Lynne Avril

Who doesn’t love Amelia Bedelia?  Well, me.  I never really got into the whole maid/nanny genre when I was younger.  So the Amelia Bedelia phenomenon was lost on me, until this reboot featuring a young Amelia Bedelia by the nephew of the series creator. Little Miss Bedelia saves the day when the apple pie she bakes with her grandmother is eaten by birds.  It also includes educational bites about farmer’s markets and the various kinds of kinds of apples.  Bonus:  An apple pie recipe!

3.  Ducking for Apples written by Lynne Berry, illustrated by Hiroe Nakata

A charming rhyming tale about five ducks going on a bike ride stumble upon an apple tree perfect for picking. Highlights counting and some fun vocabulary as well.

4.  The Biggest Apple Ever written by Steven Kroll, illustrated by Jeni Bassett

Competition turns into cooperation as two mice come up with a clever way to win a contest to bring to class the biggest apple.

5.  The Perfect Pumpkin Pie written by Denys Cazet

I do believe that this one is AB’s favorite. This is a ghost story about mean Mr.  Wilkerson who dies while eating pie.  He is doomed to haunt his house until he tastes the perfect pie.  The illustrations are fittingly ghastly. The poems of the ghosts are just begging to be read in your spookiest voice. The repetition gets the kiddos ready involved as they anticipate what is coming next.  

6. Ghosts in the House by Kazuno Kahara

This fun story about how a creative little witch repurposes the ghosts who are haunting her new house.  This is a ghost story for the little one who wants to get in on the Halloween fun but is not too keen on the scary part.  

7. The Very Best Pumpkin written by Mark Kimball Moulton, illustrated by Karen Hillard Good

This is a lovely tale about a boy who lives on a farm with his grandparents. He tends lovingly to a smaller pumpkin which grows to be quite a large pumpkin. The new girl has been watching him care for this pumpkin and he decides that it is the perfect pumpkin for her. The best illustration is one with the little girl reading The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett.  I would love to be able to frame it and hang it on the wall above AB’s reading nook.

Happy Reading!

Moments.

This evening AB and I sat quietly outside as the sun went down. The breeze rustled the yellowing leaves just as the golden streaks of sunlight were beginning to pass through the branches.


We sat peacefully side by side with our reading. Content.


These are the kind of moments that I will treasure for the rest of my life. Quiet moments like this one. And loud moments where our laughter fills up the whole room. Our giggles setting one another off in a seemingly neverending cycle of joy. Loud moments when I pick her up from school and she is bursting at the seams with stories about what happened at school, what she learned and read, who she played with, the hilarious thing that her friends said. Loud moments in the car when we sing as loud as we can to Foster the People's "Pumped Up Kicks" and Living Color's "Cult of Personality". Quiet moments when she lies cozy among her blankets, eyelids drooping as she fights sleep, while I read to her the adventures of Harriet the Spy and James with his magical giant peach.


These are the moments that make it all worth it.

Mr. Extracurricular.

Now that AB is settled into her school routine it is time to switch it up a bit.  Enter Mr. Extracurricular. (In my mind,  Mr.  Extracurricular is a burly man in a jogging suit with a clipboard and a whistle he blows shrilly every time I miss an extracurricular registration deadline).

The fliers touting soccer,  basketball,  cheerleading and foreign language classes have started making their way home.  When she was in preschool I was able to dodge Mr. Extracurricular by hiding behind the trusty excuses of lack of time and lack of money.

While I could continue to hide behind lack of money, my lack of time excuse isn’t as solid anymore.  So, I pacified Mr.  Extracurricular by promising that I would get AB involved in one this fall.  But now I (we?  because the kiddo should have some say,  right?)  must pick one.

Basketball and cheerleading were immediately crossed off the list.  Chinese as a Second Language classes were also rejected because, as awesome as it would be for her to learn Mandarin,  it was too expensive at the moment.  

That left soccer.  I like the concept of soccer.  The teamwork.  The camaraderie.  The running.  AB is a bit of a shy kid,  so I was thinking that the social aspect of the sport would be beneficial for her.  

But the more I thought about it, the more I started to dislike it.  First, I’m cheap.  I don’t really want to invest in cleats,  shinguards and uniforms (that she will be most likely outgrow in the next three months) for sport that she may end of hating.  Second, she is getting quite social at school, so I really don’t have to worry about her in that department.  Third, she is super active during the day,  so I think that her interactions with Mr.  Extracurricular should be more artistic and intellectual in nature as opposed to physical.

Therefore, I felt like I was back at square one with Mr.  Extracurricular breathing done my neck.  It did not help that I then read Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua and started to feel like the laziest mother on the planet. Okay, so I’ve pinpointed that she should do something artsy and cerebral.  Great.  But I’m way behind.  She should already be a soloist for the youth symphony and having her artwork displayed in local galleries.

Yeah,  right.

When I finished the book,  I decided that I am not going to push it. Watching your relationship with your kid deteriorate to the point that that you have a screaming match in a Russian cafe complete with broken glass? No, thank you. I really don’t care if I go on Mr.  Extracurricular’s Ish List.  Right now, I am quite happy with reading stacks of books, making collages and singing my heart out with my kid afterschool and on the weekends.

Mr. (Organized) Extracurricular will just have to wait.

Primary Race?

When I was registering AB for kindergarten, I was quite shocked that the form required that the parent/guardian indicate a “primary” race of the incoming student.

Primary? Meaning of first rank, importance, or value.

How is a multicultural kid supposed to pick race? How unfair is it to require that children are supposed to identify as one race or another?

My daughter is half African-American and half-Caucasian. 50-50. Half of me and half of her dad. So, which of us is more important?

I eventually checked the “African-American” box for primary and the “Caucasian” box for other. Why? Because I am the one who is raising her. I’m the primary parent.  Therefore, for statistical purposes AB will be categorized as African-American.

But how would she have answered the question?

Honestly, I have no idea. My multicultural kid has no real concept of race. She understands that not everyone looks the same. She understands that people speak different languages. She understands that her skin is lighter than mine yet darker than her father’s. When she draws pictures of herself, she picks up the light brown crayon as opposed to the dark brown or the peach. But if you ask her what she is?

She’ll say that she’s a girl and she’s 5 & a half.

Frankly, I like it that way.

I know that once she is older, she is going to be asked that question…alot. Probably to the point of great annoyance. Perhaps she will struggle when she is older and defining herself as she tries to find her place in social circles. Or maybe (in a perfect ideal world) it will be a non-issue as the number of kids identifying as multiracial grows. So, why bring it up so soon?

She knows what Mommy looks like. She knows what Daddy looks like. She knows what Grandpa & Grandma and Grammy & Grampy look like. She knows that she is a mix of all of them.  She knows that she is loved.  I think that’s enough for now.

In the meantime, I shall be indignant on her behalf.  “Primary race” ?  Heathcliff Huxtable says it best:  “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life!"

Bouquet of Sharpened Pencils: Reawakening My Inner Scholar

September is about new beginnings.  It is about fresh starts.  And, thankfully, September does not hold the weightiness of January.  There are no heavy expectations.  Instead, it is a refreshing moment where we can start over again from those January resolutions that may not have actually been implemented.  

Things have not exactly turned out the way that I envisioned back in January.  There were goals and resolutions but the action steps were not there to bring those dreams into fruition.  Rather than mourn this seeming failures, I treat them as opportunities to start again.  I review why I didn’t do what was necessary to make the goal happen. Why was I dragging my feet? Was that goal really what I was wanting for myself? Perhaps,  my priorities and desires were slowly shifting as different things came up in my life.

September is my month of reevaluation and reformation.  I loved school as a kid, and four weeks in,  I’m stoked that AB feels the same way.  Now that I am no longer in school myself, I find that I am needing to find a way to make the excitement about learning seem fresh and new even though I’m not in a classroom.

I have decided to educate myself.

I am creating my own curriculum.  I am creating my own fellowship.  I am researching and writing for myself.  When I was younger, I would throw myself into subjects, acquiring as much knowledge that I could about a given subject.  I had three inch binders crammed with notes, pictures and articles about my obsessions du jour.  Thanks to this little thing called the World Wide Web I had plethora of resources available to me. There are two specific subjects that I vividly recall soaking up like a sponge. The first was the Mafia. I was an 11 year old kid printing out pictures of bullet-ridden mobsters and crime family trees while I memorized all of the dialogue of the Scorcese classic Goodfellas.  Disturbing, yes. But, I felt utterly inspired by the drama and danger.  The second was Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell (GWTW).  I was led to GWTW from the Outsiders by S.E.  Hinton.  If a boy as tough as Ponyboy was sensitive enough to read a book like GWTW, then I had to try it.  I tried it and loved it.  I read it in two days.  I was absolutely smitten.  My dad introduced me to the film and I was officially obsessed.  My binder was full of pictures of every single costume from every possible angle with notes about behind-the-scenes gossip.  I could name every actress and actor considered for Rhett and Scarlett.  And of course, I memorized every line in this film as well, accent and all.

Perhaps, these interests made me an odd child (and I still wonder where I found all that time to gather all of my research), but that is what made me Me.  As I got older, I started to lose that focus. There were various reasons, time and the coolness factor being the main ones.  But 15+ years later, now that it sometimes feels like I have an abundance of time and I no longer have the desire to impress my peers by downplaying “nerdy”  pursuits,  I think it’s time to get back a little of my 11-year-old self.

If I could go back in time, I would bring 11-year-old self a bouquet of sharpened pencils and some brand spanking new notebooks and say, “Have at it,  kid.”

If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them. - Henry David Thoreau

Going With The Flow.

After I dropped AB off for her second day of kindergarten, I found myself faced with time. A solid chunk of uninterrupted time. This felt unfamiliar to me.

There were many things that I could do with this time. Read. Job-hunt. Exercise. Write. Clean. Plan.

Since I took the bar exam at the end of last month, I have felt adrift. I have lacked focus. This was not necessarily a bad thing at those moments. Actually, in the moments where I was spending quality time with family, I felt quite content. I began making slight changes in my lifestyle.

• Eating better. Eating less. Eating consciously. Wandering through farmer's markets and health food stores. Experimenting and exploring.
• Creating. Really diving into my art journaling and expressing myself creatively.
• Exercising and Meditating. Allowing myself to fully embrace yoga and enjoy being a novice yogini.
• Just taking one day at a time.

While the "one day at a time" approach has been lovely, reality (and fear) smacked me in the face this morning as I entered the house with no kid in tow. What the heck am I supposed to do now?

Be grateful. I am supposed to be grateful and grow. I am supposed to take this time and allow myself to move in a newer, happier direction. The best part has been that AB has been right next to me the whole time. She tries out new foods with me. She journals with me. She does yoga with me. She is on this journey with me.

Everyday, I am learning something new from parenting because no two days are ever the same. She throws me for a loop at least once a day. I am more observant about what and when she eats and how it affects her energy levels and moods. I haven't paid this close attention since she was a baby and I was recording her feedings. I have found that the more aware I am of how she reacts to different foods, the better able I am respond to her. Since I am able to (somewhat) anticipate, I feel like I am a calmer parent, more able (and willing) to enjoy the time we spend together.

Here is to living fully, creatively and mindfully.

Mission Accomplished.

On Sunday, I was able to cross of a major goal on my "Big Plans" list.

1. law school graduation
2. taking (and passing) the bar
3. moving to Portland, (OR) (!!!)

I have finally graduated from law school!

Three years ago, I made a rather crazy decision to move from the Bay Area to Chicago with my 2 year old and start law school full-time. Over these past three years, I have felt overwhelmed and overjoyed, challenged and bored, exhausted and elated. Needless to say, it has been no walk in the park.

But I am also super excited. I feel like Superwoman. I can do anything! I know that this feeling will soon wane, but for the moment, I am going to milk it as long as I can. I am feeling creative and hopeful. And as silly as this may sound, I feel like a real grown-up.

Yet, there is a dismaying feeling though that the fact that I have proven to myself and others that I can do anything means that there are no more excuses. I cannot tell myself that I cannot do something because I'm a single mother. There is no longer a safety net of self-pity. Oddly enough, that is quite scary. But at the same time, it is empowering. That lofty dream of being a solo practioner? Not so far fetched anymore. Testing out the waters in the dating pool? Just might try it. Homeschooling? Absolutely! Having another kid? You betcha, when the stars align, AB's gonna be a big sister...eventually. :-)

I like to think that I have grown over the past three years. I am smarter and more confident. I have closed the door on past mistakes and dropped the baggage associated with those errors in judgement, but retained the all important lessons that came with the experience. I definitely feel that I am a better mom and overall a better person.

I am a law school graduate with an adorable 5 year old who is ready for kindergarten. She: reads, writes, counts to 100, skips, sings, speaks Spanish, identifies various flowers, has an insanely good memory, and is more amazing than I ever imagined. I feel like the walking definition of "blessed".

Mission Law School: Accomplished.

You Can't Take It With You.

Early last month, the mom of one of AB's classmates said to me, "Everytime I see her she's smiling. She's such a happy kid. Is she like that all the time?" I thought about it and could honestly answer that about 90% of the time, she is a happy kid. I had never thought about it before, but I am blessed to have a kid with such a sweet disposition. I think that it is easy to focus on the times when our children misbehave. I will be the first to admit that I am guilty as charged in that regard. But this comment made me proud that despite the "situation", I am successfully raising a happy, considerate, well-adjusted kid.


However, this realization has made her moments of sadness into little daggers that pierce straight through to my heart. Over the past 5 semesters, I have been away from AB due to evening obligations no more than a handful of times. It was a very rare occassion indeed. However, this semester, my final semester, I have not been so lucky. I have two evening classes. Therefore, I am away from the kiddo for two evenings a week and she is asleep by the time I get home. Meaning, there are two nights a week where I am not putting my child to sleep. Meaning, there are two nights a week when my child is as sad as sad can be because I am leaving. Meaning, there are (at least) two nights a week where I feel like a bad mother. I feel so bad for the poor babysitter who more often than not is left with a grief-stricken child with tears streaming down her face.


After the first couple of weeks I just had to leave my mommy guilt at the door. Why? Because carrying it around with me to, during, and from class would be absolute torture. Because it would not change a thing (hello, required courses). Because she can count on the fact that I will always be there when she wakes up, be it in the middle of the night or the next morning. Because the end is in sight. Because the world will not end.

Big Plans.

The three most major things planned for 2011:

1. law school graduation
2. taking (and passing) the bar 
3. moving to Portland, OR (!!!)

So excited.