Dear Sons, I want you to use your white privilege.

To my two white, middle-class sons: 

You may not have any clue what is going on right now in the world. Well, I can guarantee it. Mainly because one of you is only 4.5 years and the other one is waiting eight more weeks to come into the world. However, what you both may feel is Mumma's stress and worry. I want to apologize for that, but I can't. Actually, I won't. I am upset and sad and angry and worried about many different things going on right now. 

I'm upset that we are beginning to live in a country where crimes and complete bigotry are not only overlooked but acceptedly  practiced by those fighting to gain power. I'm upset that no matter how loud the public yells for help and acceptance, it struggles to be heard over the hatred and ignorance. I am sad that certain people feel the need to turn to violence and rioting in order to get seen and acknowledged. I am angry that young children all over are being left so far behind in education and essentially blamed for not being able to afford anything better. And that older children have no choice but to begin their lives so far in debt to pay for a further education. I am angry that women's health and rights are used only to the media's advantage when it creates headlines and controversy, rather than actual justice and safety. I am worried that I won't be able to teach you two enough about acceptance, compassion, and humanitarianism because of all the doubt, greed, and humiliation that fills our screens. 

The normal instinct of a parent is to shield a child from all of this. But I cannot do that.  I will not do that. I won't because you need to learn that these things are not acceptable. That injustice, bigotry, and hatred do not have to win. These things can be changed. I will raise you to become the change. Things like sexism, inequality, racism, etc. may not personally affect you. You are privileged to be white, middle-class males. But that is where your privilege comes in. Because these things may not affect you daily, you need to use your power to help those that it does. You will be surprised what has personally affected your mumma, your aunts, your family, your friends, and your community.  

I will not raise you to be "blind" to color, sexual orientation, or to anything else going on in the world. Being "blind" means more than not seeing; in most cases, it means ignoring. It means you also won't see the injustices or the beauty. I want you to fully see it all; to see, celebrate and feel deeply for it all. 

You too will get angry and upset at the unfairness of the world at points. And this is ok. In fact, it is great. Get angry and upset! Stand up for those whose voices are going hoarse from their screaming. Yell loudly to help them be heard. Believe in something and do not let those holding the power to silence you. You are a power. Use that to make it safe for your friends and family to walk down the street without being shamed. Use that to make sure the earth grows greener because you are living in it. Use your power to stand up for even those who have different views and life styles than you. Use it to make this world a more productive, educational, and equal place for all. 

I love you both so much. Now please go and spread that love. 

Love, 

Mumma 

Quitting my job ended up saving my marriage

Three months ago, it all began to change for us. I remember the breath I took as we pulled away from our apartment on June 23rd. I knew with that breath my life would never be the same. The three of us in the car, me forcing everyone to look at the screen of my iPhone to take a "first photo," my husband sighing because it was the first of thousands, our son in the back seat with his penguin hat on being, well, himself. There was no prediction as to what the next couple of months would bring for us. Before this day we knew so much had to change, and the months that lead up to it, so much had already changed. Most of it beyond out of our control. So I gave it all up. The full time job. The money. The title. The security. I left it all for one summer of the unknown to find something that we knew was missing.

As we drove over the bridge out of NYC, we cried. Our son cried because he was already bored and wanted the iPad. We cried because we knew that from that moment on we would start to heal, from so many things. While my initial decision months ago to leave my job started off for creative reasons, we both learned that wasn't just it. It was an opportunity to change for us all. Sometimes a rhythm works, sometimes it doesn't. Our love was always strong but our rhythm never seemed to sync for too long. We were giving up, falling into a new rhythm that worked only to keep our family together.

I get when people say they are marrying their best friend. It's your other half, the one who knows you better than anyone. And while my husband feels like my other half, he wasn't my best friend. We had only known each other five months before we got engaged. A whirlwind of a year later we were married. Ten months later, pregnant. Now we were partners in parenthood and it began to feel like that was it. Because of work, we barely saw each other. Because we're completely opposite people, we began to just do our own things. It worked. I got to experience what I love to do, as did he. We would share our worlds sometimes, but mostly to just support one another. And then we’d raise our beautiful son together.

Even raising a child together we sort of did separately. I was off weekends (sometimes) and he was off during the week. We have completely separate interests that we relate to our child with. While it’s great that our son can grow up passionately about the local baseball team, sharing that with dad, and takes weekend trips hiking parts of the Appalachian Trail with mum, our worlds involving our son are so different. We infrequently share any moments as a family of three. Even though it has worked for us, it began to make me sad that all my husband had of my weekend adventures was picture messages I’d sent him from our destinations.

Then came the affection. We have continuously told each other we love the other, but now it came as “I love you, but…” The moments we would get together, we began to argue more about what the other wasn’t doing at home or with our son, that all of our conversations quickly turned to aggression. We didn’t chose to fight. It just happened. When you get 45 minutes to speak a week about absolutely everything, the subject of why dirty dishes are still in the sink is going to rule that time. It was always me. I never washed the dishes. I was never home. And when I was, why would I want to wash dishes? I never realized how big of a deal this small thing was. I sort of wish I realized it a while ago.

So, after talking for a couple months about it, we decided I should quit my job. Not to stay at home, but more so I could just be home more often. It would also allow me to become creative again, a part of me I thought I was losing and so desperately needed to get back if I was going to be happy. We aren't rich. Ha! We barely make the middle class bracket. But for some reason, we thought it would be smart for me to leave the security of a job and steady pay check. It also gave our son a chance to stay home for the summer with me. He had just completed his first full year of school, and we thought giving him the summer off would be a good idea.

Things I never realized would change from me being home, did. I was happier from not having the stress of my full time job. I felt free. I took the summer to stay home with our son. Those ten weeks of sun, beach, traveling, exploring, were healing to both of our souls. Also, surprisingly, I got tan. Another thing I didn’t expect was the self-confidence I would get from being free and happy. I felt better about myself, opening up so much more for my mind and body. Gained self-confidence can lead to attraction. Now that we had more than 45 minutes a week to talk, we were able to enjoy time and each other more. From simply being able to watch a movie together, or putting the kid to bed early so we could “head to bed” early too (*wink wink*), those extra moments a week made a huge difference.

Dishes didn’t rule our conversations anymore. Even though it might still not be solved, we had time to do chores together, to help the other out. We also were available to give each other alone time. After being home all day with child, my husband would come home, give me chocolate and let me binge watch Netflix in the bedroom while he put our son to sleep. Early in mornings, he would sleep in while I made breakfast and entertained our early riser. These little moments helped each other relax, and completely helped me appreciate the partnership part of parenting even more.

Small simple changes made life-altering differences in both of our lives, apart and together. Our issues began to plateau. There wasn’t a feeling of steady descent anymore. In the past three months, I have felt more present in my marriage and life than I have before. While I’m not suggesting everyone should go out and quit their jobs, that life will be perfect and you marriage will flourish, I am saying it has begun to work for us. There are always complications with any big life change. Bills are eventually going to need to be paid, and hopefully this whole writing dream will also work out for me. But the foundation of family that I will always have to fall back on needs to also be strong. And now we're learning together what that all means. 

Parenting 101: Uncensored Sacrasm

Being a parent is f*ing hard, and to be honest, outright a pain in the ass sometimes. Don’t get me wrong. I love my kid. Obviously. But seriously. It’s hard. There are those great moments when they actually ask to hold your hand and walk with you, instead of immediately jetting down the building stairs and out to the sidewalk before you realize their shorts might be on backwards. But most of the time I find myself screaming “RED LIGHT!!!” down the block at my free range kid, in hopes that he will stop. A mom can always hope right?

Speaking of “free range,” there are so many different types of parenting that are constantly debated back and forth every day between all these parents who think they have got their shit together. And maybe they do have their shit together, and I’m the only one who’s a mess. But to be honest, I’m not the one sounding like an asshole saying “I have my three month old sleep trained. I don’t understand why my best friend has such trouble with her four year old boy.” *rolling my eyes so far back in my head they may get stuck* But really there’s helicopter parents and free range parents. Well I’d love to throw another one into the mix. What about “Electric Fence” parenting? It’s kind of like the same thing as the electric fences for dogs. They don’t have any visual restrictions and the false confidence that they are able to roam freely. However, if they get too far for your parental liking *ZAP!*

I’m kidding. Obviously I’m not strapping a collar to my kid. I definitely understand kid leashes a lot more now than I ever did before though.

Then there is the entire subject of food. I have what would be considered a Self-Proclaimed Vegetarian. He refuses any meat even though he’s never tried it. “I can’t like it.” Really? You are a four year old and you can’t like a hotdog? No, you’re just being a pain in the ass because there is nothing else at this restaurant to order you besides a side order of French Fries and you know Mumma and Daddy are starving and will order them because we need to eat.. now. I never in the world thought I would have to argue with a child to take a bite of chicken nuggets! And while I bitch and moan about trying to bribe my healthy child with unhealthy food, most parents would think I’m crazy. Seriously, he will eat raw spinach and broccoli before even thinking about biting into a burger. But when you are out to eat, NO ONE is serving raw veggies on a plate. No one. Believe me. I have asked.

Then there is the whole parrot personality. This we learned happens even before they turn two. I can remember the moment when I took my eighteen month old child around the block to pick up some things in the pharmacy. As he began walking down an isle waddling and holding onto my wallet, I said “No sweetie, follow mumma this way.” He looked me dead in the eye, threw my wallet to the ground and said “Oh shit.” And the parrot phase began. I wish that was the worst of what he said. But then came the day that he was playing with his trains alone in his room and we heard “Choo choo, watch out. The fucking four train is coming through.” NO! Those are bad words! Don’t say that! Well that’s what I would have said, but I knew he heard everything he’s learned from my husband and me so that wasn’t going to work. Instead, I started to say, “No, that’s an adult word. When you are as big as daddy you can use it.” And it TOTALLY worked! Mumma -1, kid – well, he’s obviously still winning.

Also, why can’t kids learn what a hangover is early on, and how to not annoy but help a mumma through it. No? Fetching Tylenol and water isn’t something to teach your preschooler? Ok. Fine. I’ll wait until he’s a bit older then.

UGH! Then there’s the STRANGERS! Not the ones you need to warn your child about. (That is seriously my biggest fear and I cannot even begin to joke about “stranger danger.”) I’m talking about the random people on the sidewalk or in the grocery store who want to give you advice on your screaming child who just smacked you in the face because you wouldn’t buy him Apple Jacks. No, ma’am, I don’t care that you raised five children and that they never did anything like this and maybe he just needs some extra love and attention. I just played 7 hours of a Paw Patrol board game at home via his request. Now we have to do grocery shopping for the week and I’m obviously not putting sugar into my already rambunctious child. Also, HE is a boy. I know he has long hair and I know I didn’t brush it this morning. But to be honest, I didn’t feel like fighting. And I really think the dreads that are forming on the back of his head will make him the cool kid once school starts next week.

All jokes and complete sarcasm aside, parenting is hard. We’re all in it. Some of us deeper than others. I see a kid having a tantrum in the store, and I immediately look at the mother or father. Not to cast judgement, more to telepathically emit my sympathy. We’re all in it together. Some days are better than others. Most days we can’t complain at all. But it’s real. It’s hard. And it’s our lives. And, seriously, I wouldn’t change a minute of it. 

Off the grid and on my own

I didn’t realize my strength, and insecurities, as a mother and a women until this week. On Tuesday, I took two bags and my four year old son on a train out of the city to hike and camp for two nights. While I have camped so many times I can’t count, I have never done so with just a backpack. Or a four year old. Or by myself. I carried a tent, two sleeping bags, changes of clothes, bathing suits, canned beans, apples, dried fruit, granola, and various other snacks. Vedder carried the first aid kit (which we already had to use on the train ride up state), more snacks, water bottles, phone charger, bathroom incidentals, bug spray, suntan lotion, and Baby Penguin. And we were off!

We took the train up to Cold Spring, NY and a taxi northeast to Clarence Fahnestock State Park. As we exited the car and strapped on our packs, I could see the campsites. I could also see nothing else. Well, let me rephrase that. I could see nothing else except the vast and amazing world of Mother Nature ready to swallow us up. No buildings, no beeping cars, no lights, no stores. Instead the smell of fires, the sounds of bugs and birds chirping, and the sight of tall green trees filled the clean, crisp air. I know that one sentence is like a sensory overload, but seriously, none of those words even begin to describe it. I texted my husband that we had arrived at the site and would try to call him tomorrow. Then I put my phone on airplane mode, and officially began my trip off-the-grid. (We did at points turn the phone back on to keep my husband updated that we were safe, but that was all.)

My first proud moment came immediately as we stepped on to our primitive camp site. I am doing this! I took the tent out of my pack and pitched it while Vedder played around the site. Then of course I made him take a picture in front of it like he was so proud of me, too. At that point, I was the only one I was trying to impress. And, boy, did I!

It was still early, so after we were all set up, we took a small hike around the grounds. There was a beautiful pond right next to our site with a trail around it. We began exploring. Vedder so badly wanted to go swimming, but the pond didn’t offer it, so he settled for sitting by the water. We sat and talked. I will take that moment, and every moment from this trip, with me every day. That’s the type of moment I will look back on when he’s screaming and crying and throwing an epic tantrum in the middle of the sidewalk because I won’t let him go to the bodega that gives him free lollipops. And while I take a deep breath in my strong stance against what seems to be the entire spirit of the Lollipop guild rolled up into one little boy, I will remember that moment by the pond, where he asked me to sit and talk with him for a bit. I will remember how my little boy just wanted his mumma to listen and answer all his questions of the world around us. That one, beautiful moment.

Soon that moment had left us, and we were back at our site, ready for dinner. This is when I found myself challenged, and losing.. terribly. I had planned beans and apples, yams and crackers for our dinners. I quickly learned something that would hault me from ever really ever being able to survive in the woods alone. I couldn’t start a fire! I tried and tried and tried. Nothing. A hungry and anxious boy calmly cheered me on. “Mumma, you can do it!” I keep telling myself that too. I can do this! No I couldn’t. I quickly cut apple slices and carrots for V to keep his supportive chants coming. And after what felt like an hour but was probably only fifteen more minutes, I gave up. I felt so defeated. But I had enough dry food for us to enjoy for the first night, so I smiled at Vedder, strapped on our head lamps and told him we were going to eat by “headlight.”

After dinner, we settled into our tent. I unzipped both of our sleeping bags so we could cuddle and keep warm. Even though it is 90 all day, when it gets down to 65 at night, it’s a bit chillier than you would think. Thankfully my family is made of avid campers and my brother had warned me of such. So we laid down, took turned telling bedtime stories, and Vedder slowly dozed off.  

One would think, I too would be relaxing and resting up for the next day of hiking and swimming I had planned. It was quite the opposite. OH MY GOD! WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING ALONE IN THE WOODS WITH MY SON?! WHAT IF A BEAR COMES?! WORSE YET! WHAT IF A CRAZY PERSON SAW THIS MOM AND SON ALL BY THEMSELVES?! EASY TARGETS! AHHHHHH! 

Seriously. My crazy brain thought all of this all night long. In between what was maybe 20 minute catnaps, I kept waking up paranoid. This is insane. I need to sleep. THIS IS NOT INSANE! SOMETHING OR SOMEONE IS GOING TO GET US! Why all of a sudden was I doubting myself? I had been waiting for this trip forever. It was our first trip alone without anyone. No husband, no family, no friends. Just me and V. And instead of falling asleep next to the peaceful boy next to me, my brain was freaking out! Well, obviously we survived that night just fine. No bears or random serial killers. Vedder slept 11.5 hours! I slept maybe 2. But like I said, we survived.

Knowing we survived, I felt like I could rule the world our second day. I woke early, got biscuit cookies and apples for breakfast. Tried to start the fire again. Failed again. But not as knocking to my ego as the night before. I woke V and we sat and enjoyed the quiet morning air. A father and son we had met on our hike the day before, came to our site to see if we wanted to join for another. So we did! We hiked the entire lap around the pond, seeing beavers swim and sunbathe on their damn. We stumbled upon miners using pulley and drill tools to test the soil deep below. We found trees downed all over the outside of the pond with teeth marks that we linked to the furry sunbathers. Frogs and other creatures were spotted throughout our morning as well. I felt like I was ten again, when I loved science before it was a subject I repeatedly failed in school. The middle part of the day continued to be filled with adventure of swimming with fish in the lake and taking a rowboat out around the water.

After using our cash at the beach concession stand for hotdogs and grilled cheese (because let’s be honest, a “warm” meal for dinner was not something to bet on with my fire skills), we contemplated trying to hike a little of the AT. There was a path from the lake up to meet the Appalachian Trail, and I had specifically picked this area for it. Vedder and I had hiked a small section earlier in the year at Bear Mountain, and we wanted to add another part of the trail to our list. I was so torn. We were both obviously tired. Hiking, swimming, boating for already at least five hours that day, in 85◦ heat was enough for us. But with Vedder’s unexpected, and possibly misunderstood, declaration of having “one thousand energies,” we started stepping.

It was obvious very early into hiking up the blue trail that he was tired. And so was I. That’s why when I kept us going, it really pulled on me both ways. While part of me hated that I was pushing him (and myself) beyond our limits, the other part of me thought, push harder. I have read tons of sites that say to have the kids lead. And I usually do. I want Vedder to see the trails through his eyes, not just as my back. But this time I pushed. And pushed. There were tears, people. And my heart felt awful, but I didn’t stop us. And it wasn’t until we reached the peak and I lifted him and he gasped, that I finally felt ok with my decision. I stood there holding him. Our heads being able to look over the tops of trees and we both took deep breaths. “Wow, mumma. You can see… everything!”

Looking back at this, I want to cry. Tears and gritted teeth guiding us over rocks, up paths that were the width of my boot, stumbling over roots, and loosing footing over shaky gravel. And as we looked all over the other mountains and lake, stepping on the AT marker, I thought “Wow, I can feel it all too.” This was definitely not the longest hike; it took us maybe 45 minutes. However, it was the most challenging.

And for me, it spoke volumes beyond the actual moment. How often do we push, or not push ourselves, through the tears and skinned knees of parenthood. Sometimes I give in too quickly or don’t pursue something different or difficult because I am afraid of how it will affect me or Vedder. I didn’t this time. And that view, that step to the top, was the most rewarding moment of this whole trip. I can still feel the breath we took at the top deep in my chest.

Needless to say, Vedder and I both slept like babies the second night. No!  I take that back! Babies don’t sleep!! We slept like.. two people who had hiked and swam and boated and hiked and conquered the world in nine short/long hours.

Oh I forgot one thing! We DID have a campfire the second night. No thanks to me being able to light one on my own. However, part of life is sometimes asking for help from others. So that’s what I did. I went to the site next to us and asked for someone to help me light the fire. Their fourteen year old daughter came to our rescue.

After dinner, we “washed up” as well as we could, and fell asleep telling stories.

This morning I woke with a stiffening pain. I have PCOS and Endometriosis. And you can just imagine how amazing I felt after living in the woods for two days and waking up to severe cramps, my period, and knowing I wouldn’t be back in my own home for another 10 to 12 hours. No drugs to help, or anything for that matter, I knew I would just have to deal. Vedder woke up around 8:30, we ate granola for breakfast, tried to “wash up” again the best we could, and began packing our stuff.

F, YEAH! I thought as I folded and packed up the tent. I did this. I did it on my own. And with every challenge that could have sent me home, I didn’t go. I stayed and accomplished everything I could do on my own, and showed my son how strong I am too.

We finished packing back up our two bags, headed back to Cold Spring, ate a nice lunch (and drank hot yummy coffee!), walked around the town, got ice cream, and headed back on the 3:20 train to NYC.

I have no clue if Vedder’s four year old brain will remember this weekend. That’s why I photodocument our entire lives! We will have the photos to look through and remind ourselves of this trip. But I am so thankful for what it all unexpectedly showed me. I honestly feel like this weekend has made me a prouder woman and a stronger mum. And that’s what the photos will remind me of, the time I rocked it off the grid and on my own! 

Changing the World

As of recently, I have really come to dislike signing onto Facebook. While I love all the photos of friends getting married, starting families, traveling, hanging with their cool pets, and eating at delicious restaurants, those are not the only things filling up my news feed. Arguments about the correct views on current events and issues that the world is facing, blatant ignorance and hatred through "funny" posts belittling others for their choice of lifestyle, and the destruction of the human bond of compassion between individuals because of their differences. This is what I see more and more. And it makes me what to scream.. and cry. Instead of taking opportunities to educate themselves on the ever-changing world, people are stuck throwing out hatred for what they chose not to believe in. I am a huge supporter of different views. If everyone lived the same, looked the same, acted the same, what a boring and one dimensional life this would be for all of us. How would we grow?

I recently saw someone I love, who is very close to me, post a passive aggressive picture in which belittled one individual's courage to emphasize another's. I got very emotional about this. While I understand and respect our difference of opinions, for me to see such a hurtful and negative post to "get the point across" was baffling to me.

So I started to write. And I wrote and wrote and wrote. I wrote strong words of anger, of opposition, and I felt myself sinking into a very negative space. So I deleted everything and begin to write from a different perspective. I needed to say something. I needed the negativity to stop. I needed to feel like I could change what the world is going through right now. So I started to write as a mother.

I thought about blocking and deleting what bothered me on facebook. But how can I live like that? It's not realistic for me to stop seeing the negative. That doesn't void it out and make it not still very much alive. Being a parent gives me many opportunities to take the negativeness of the world and change it. Even if it's only through one child.

---

Being a parent gives me a chance to raise a human in a really difficult world to be grateful for his opportunities and to also use them to help and encourage others. I can help the universe create an open-minded, strong, and supportive individual, even when.. especially when the world seems to sometimes lack those qualities.

I can help him help others. I can teach him how important it is to respect himself, others, and most of all the earth. His opinions and views are not the only ones filling the world, but if he works hard enough and cares deeply enough, he can use his thoughts, feelings and ideals to make the world a better place.

I can show him how, even though he may not live through certain tragedies, his heart can ache and break with those who are living it. I can let him know it's okay to stand up against something if he truly thinks it is wrong. And more importantly, to stand strongly with those he believes in.

I can hold him when he cries and help him understand when he is angry. I can share tears and laughter with him, and explain how each are very cathartic. I can show him how a hug can heal and a smile can save.

I can show him that family is not just made of blood, but of a lifetime of bonds.

I am able to teach him that judgement is not for him to give, or for him to take to heart. That education is one of the strongest tools he will be given. And that his heart is the strongest thing he will be able to give.

I can tell him that love and acceptance do not come with terms and conditions.

I can encourage him to be brave in whatever it is he needs to do, and let him encourage others in their own bravery.

I can show him that life takes people to all different places, and when another's path crosses his, to cherish it. It may join him for a while or remain a quick crossroad he goes through; I can teach him how both are equally just as important.

I can teach him not only to say "thank you," but to feel truly thankful.

I can try to help him understand when sometimes people hurt one another. This one will be something him and I continue to learn the rest of our lives.

But most importantly, I can show him he has a voice, and that his life will reflect how he chooses to use it.

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Ok, buddy, let's go. We are going to change the world.

Mommies' Night Out

What a perfect excuse to drink. Being a mother. Sign me up! After giving up drinking for nine or so months just to grow and push out the most beautiful, perfect human being, we deserve a drink. Or two. Or three. And thankfully I am friends with many other women who agree.

That is why one mama from daycare decided to establish Mommies' Night Out, a (monthly) event for us mamas to get together, drink and just get out! 

Almost three years ago when I started writing this blog, I wrote a post on The Dating Scene, about play dates. It definitely still applies but it goes into a total different stage. My husband and I met on a blind date six years ago. And I feel like sometimes these parent nights out almost have that same type of anxiety. You get on an email chain of parents, some saying they will be there, others missing out. You maybe know what they look like but really only know the names of their kids. So you sit and wait at the bar, or nervously walk in, looking for who maybe that person or people from the email. An awkward smile, head nod or look let's you know that it's the group. You walk over, shake hands, introduce yourself and order drinks. Then spend the night getting to know one another. Ha! It seems weird but that is literally how it is. The drinks start flowing, you compare potty training tips, complain about pregnancy, laugh sharing moments your kids have embarrassed you, and it gets a little less like a blind date and more like, well, a Mommies' Night Out. 

What I think is most great about this night (besides the obvious drinking part) is that it brings together a bunch of women who really only have motherhood in common. We are all from different places, all different ages, different careers, but all share the same bond of motherhood. We are mothers of sons, mothers of daughters, mothers of twins, and mothers of only children. We are working moms and stay at home. We have different parenting styles, but offer support for each other. We all like to drink and are just trying to figure out this crazy journey parenthood. 

CHEERS to Mommies everywhere!

Excuse me? What did you say?

I shouldn't judge any one else's parenting. Obviously I'm not perfect either. Vedder still sleeps with me every night. Every. Night. He eats only bow tie pasta for lunch and dinner every day. Every. Day. And probably 100 other things that I do "wrong" or differently than other parents. So I try really hard not to judge. 

This is so difficult for me. Mainly because I was a teacher before being a mom, so judging parents was like part of the job. Now being a parent I realize, this shit ain't easy. 

However, one way to get me to judge you real fast as a parent is letting me hear the way you speak to your child. I am far from calm and cool all the time. But if ANYTHING, the way I parent can be described in one quote :

"The way we talk to our children becomes their inner voice." 

So you can imagine my judgement when I heard a mom say to her maybe ten year old son, "Stop whining. Jeez. You should have been a girl with all the complaining you do." 

Umm what? Mom, you are a woman, which means you were once a girl. So this type of statement is baffling to me. However, the more I thought about it the more infuriated I became. Not only does this statement make your son feel inferior, it makes him feel so because it states that the opposite sex in a way is inferior. In a world where gender identity and equality is still so not equal, I am so confused as to why a parent, especially a mother, would put such a bold and loaded statement like this into her child's brain. Now the whole whining aspect is not what I am concerned about. Do I know women who whine? Plenty! I am a whiner myself. Do I know men that do it as well? Tons! Whining is not the issue here, Dude. 

The issue is that some parents don't realize the extent of what they say and how it may resonate throughout the rest of their child's life. Saying this type of thing to your son will now give him the feeling that he has the right to say this to others. Like other women. Or other men. Continuing the cycle that girls are inferior to boys because they whine and boys that whine aren't men and no one is equal. 

This may seem like a long stretch to some but it is statements like this why we as a society don't see everyone as equal. I have had children in my class refuse to play with toys because they were a certain color. "Pink is for girls. You can't play with that." "I can play with this baby because he has a blue shirt on right? So that means this baby is for boys to play with?" Really. I come across these comments/questions more often than you can imagine. Three and four year olds gender stereotyping toys, and essentially categorizing each other as different instead of equals. Three and four year olds! No child comes to their own conclusion of colors identifying gender at this young of an age. It is all implanted thoughts from their environment. 

We, as parents, are our child's first and most important teacher. The way we live our lives, the way we treat others, the beliefs we have, our children see all of these things and look up to them. The way we talk to our children is the way they will learn to talk to others.  

Like I said, I am far from a perfect parent. There is no such thing. But one thing I vow to do it alway encourage him (and every student that enters my classroom) to express his feeling and himself as he sees fit and for him to always encourage others to do the same. I like to think that one day, kind words, encouragement and acceptance will become the norm and everything else will just seem silly. 

Baby on the Go

My son is now seven and a half months. Crawling, pulling himself up on every possible box or shelf or piece of furniture to stand, and tumbling down to the ground with a loud thud. All of this making my heart so excited and extremely nervous. And that is only in our apartment, never mind when we travel!!

I was born and raised in Massachusetts, and since meeting my husband four years ago ((and moving to NYC nine months after meeting him)), I have probably traveled between the two states around thirty times. I have done most of the traveling by bus and car. However, in December 2010, we took Amtrak for the first time and fell in love!! Since Vedder has been born, he has traveled to Massachusetts four times, twice on Amtrak and also loved it.

Just to clarify things, I do not work for Amtrak at all, nor am I getting paid for this blog post. I am just an extremely satisfied customer, and want to get the word out to other families.

The first time Vedder and I took the train from New York Penn Station to South Station Boston was Thanksgiving Day 2011. Now I am not saying that Amtrak completely takes away all the stresses of traveling with a child, especially an infant, but they sure do make it easier. In November, Vedder was almost four months old. I had a huge stroller, carseat, diaper bag, purse ((which for me is a large bag)) and rolling suitcase. My husband brought us to Penn Station to help me with all the luggage. Of course my genius thinking of taking a 2pm train on Thanksgiving Day because it would save me $75 as opposed to traveling the day before or after the holiday didn't quite work out. I did not factor in that Penn Station is also on 34th street like Macy's. Yep. I completely did not factor in at all that while I would be trying to lug my whole life in 3 bags and a stroller, there would be those thousands upon hundreds of people who come to New York this one time of year to see the nations biggest parade. On the same street I needed to catch a train. Like I said, I'm a genius.

However, once we got there the employees of Amtrak were so helpful my very frazzled state was quickly calmed. They even allowed my husband to help get Vedder and me settled on the train even though he was not joining us on the trip. Many times throughout the four hour trip, a train worker approached me to see if I needed anything, even offering to get water from the cafe cart for us. So nice!!

Our second trip to Massachusetts was just a couple weeks ago. And I feel like as my son gets older, my brain gets fried a little more. On this trip, right after leaving Penn Station I realize I didn't print out my ticket from the kiosk. I only had a receipt of purchase email!! After having to purchase another ticket on the train, a worker gave me all the paperwork, explaining how to get a full refund for the previously purchased ticket. And then when leave Boston a few days later, because of said fried brain, we missed our scheduled departure. The man at the ticket booth was so calm and helpful, I didn't even have the chance to worry and freak out before he called a Red Hat over to help me and store my bags until the next train to New York. Phew!!

The designation between cars - cafe, business, quiet, and coach - makes it very easy to not feel like I am that obnoxious person with the child laughing, singing, and yelling on the train. The scenery of the northeast route from NYP to BOS is beautiful. While Vedder naps I am constantly snapping pictures of the gorgeous new England towns as they fly by. Then when he is awake we are either looking out the windows together, playing with toys on the seats, or walking to the cafe car where they have fresh fruit cups that I am able to slice up and share with him.

The only thing I would change, or have Amtrak add to better the experience for traveling families, are changing tables. Traveling with an infant as often as I do four hours is a long time to go without a diaper change. And even though the handicap bathrooms offer enough space for me to put a changing pad on the floor, the sanitary aspect of that is not appealing at all.

The Amtrak train to Boston passes right past our apartment in Queens and over the park we go to weekly. My husband and I are teaching Vedder that this is the train to Nana and Grandad's house. Even though he may not understand what we are saying, he definitely understands the noise of the train and stares up at it as it zooms. U.

Our next trip to Massachusetts is at the end of the month. I am very excited to be seeing my family again so soon and am looking forward to another pleasant experience traveling.

A letter to my best friend and soon-to-be mama

Dear best friend,

You are pregnant! The whole world is excited!! I don't think anyone on this earth deserves to be a parent more than you. Since we were little, you have always had the most compassionate personality. With everything you have been through to bring you to this day, you have conquered it all so gracefully. When it felt like everything was against you, you still smiled and pushed through. My love for you has 26 years of your unconditional friendship behind it and I cannot thank you enough for that. For all of these reasons and so many more, you are going to be an amazing mother. 

Now I know I started this blog writing about some of my aggravations with pregnancy and parenthood. But this letter to you is from one mumma's heart to another. 

First, through these last couple of months, resist the want to punch anyone in the face that tells you "Sleep now because you won't be after baby is born." You won't sleep normally through the last few months of pregnancy, or after he is born, or ever again. And after a couple years you'll get used to it and it will be ok. It'll actually be great. The reason you aren't sleeping is because this little guy you created needs you. He needs your help, your love and your comfort. He will eventually sleep through the night but you still won't. Remember that book our moms used to read to us as kids, I'll Love You Forever? Yeah well you will be that mom that even after he falls asleep, will crawl into his room, hold him just for a couple extra minutes. Why would you do that? Want to sneak into a sleeping child's room, risking the chance that you'll wake him? Because you're sleep deprived and can't think straight. And because you created this little human and it is the best feeling in the world and every chance you can get to give him love, you will.

Another thing, don't be disappointed when labor goes nothing like you had planned. I really wish someone told me this. I ridiculously, but whole heartedly, thought I could actually have control of all of that. And well it killed me that not even the smallest things worked out the way I had wanted. But now two and a half years later I can write this letter to you and say don't waste your time planning any of it. Whenever and however that beautiful newborn gets put into your arms, smile and let everything else go. 

A baby changes your marriage. It does. No one told me this either. You're no longer just husband and wife. You're mama and daddy. This may seem like a pretty obvious thing, but it's a bigger concept than, well, a new parent can wrap her head around. You and your family of two are no stranger to hard work as a couple. You have both defied so many odds that this could be something you both just laugh at. But when sleepless nights get the best of you, or your parenting skills of a little defiant toddler seem to be drastically different, or any part of this journey into parenthood makes you two scared,  it is important to remember you're not in it alone. And it's important to keep reminding yourself that too because sometimes we all forget. 

The heartache from anything you have ever felt in your life with be nothing compared to your child's first big booboo. Oh god. It still hurts. It will hurt you more than him. But you're both get through it. Him sooner than you. 

There is no such thing as a perfect mama. You're going to make mistakes, a lot of them. You're going to sometimes have no clue why your baby is crying and have no way to help him. This is ok, mostly because he probably doesn't know why he is crying either. And when he gets older, you're going to make mistakes too. There are days where you will have 100% energy to be a super mom and take on his crazy little imaginative world and fill him up with even more important emotional tools for life. You will take him places and teach him things. You will show him the many different worlds outside your home. And these days will be beautiful.. but exhausting. And there will be days where you don't have that energy. Where the tv will be on all day and all he has eaten is animal crackers. You've accomplished nothing except maybe showering, and he has watched the same episode of sesame street for past three hours. You need these days. Even though your guilt may overcome you about not being a "good" parent, remember, you need these days. Life is about balance. So is parenting. No day is perfect. We wake up not knowing what it will bring. The same is with being a parent. Part of being a great parent is finding the balance in between all of the days. 

One last thing. This has been my proudest one to conquer (mostly because all of the above that I have written, in one way or another I'm still dealing with).  Don't worry about your body, now or after. Because you're gorgeous. You always have been and always will be. Every boy wanted to be your boyfriend when we were younger and now the two best boys in the world ((well one to be coming into the world soon)) have you!! Even if you never get back to "pre-baby body" it doesn't matter. The one thing I have let go of is that goal of being back to pre-baby. And I couldn't feel better about myself. Dude, I made another human being, I can keep on these few extra 25 pounds. I've earned that! 

So here is my letter to you. Of crazy, emotional, mama things. I think this letter was more for myself than you, but I am so excited to watch you on this journey. The love you have in your heart is no match for what is about to come. Some days it will fill so much it hurts. And some days it will just hurt. These are all good things. I love you so much and cannot wait to be this very lucky baby boy. 

Finding my balance

Well it is 6:30 am on a Saturday, and because my mind is on auto alarm for 5:20 am for the week, I am awake now while everyone else is sleeping. So I am deciding to write.  But to be honest, I'd much rather be sleeping. 

So maybe I will start off this "Saturday Morning Insomnia" post with a look into the other person who is on this WTF-am-I-doing ride that we call parenthood.

Michael and I celebrated 4 crazy years of mah-widge (the Princess Bride was to say it is the only way to say it) in December. Four friggen years! It's crazy to me. This may seem like a small feat or even still the honeymoon stage to some but for me, well I have a problem committing to absolutely anything. So, high-five, Hubby! Looks like I am on the right track! But to be honest, he makes it really easy..

A few things about Michael (my husband, not my dad -see other post- now we're back to this weird Freudian thing again):

I am married to a rock'n'roll singing, dish washing, best dad in the world shirt owning, dinner cooking, house cleaning, laundry doing, converse wearing all-star. Seriously. I'm spoiled. 

In my completely right-side-of-the -brain-parenting technique, I cannot be a good mom without completely destroying our apartment. I'm not kidding. I am worse than Vedder. A mom who makes more of a mess than her two year old son. Our lovely dining table is permanently covering in paint from various projects. We are still finding confetti glitter around the apartment from new year eve sensory bottles. I have a half done chalk mural on V's wall in his bedroom ((see earlier comment about not being able to commit to anything)). 

When I come home from work during the week, dinner is always ready. Always. Sometimes when Michael comes home on the weekends, he's lucky if his son has even had one full meal the whole day, nevermind a full dinner being cooked. Not that he always keeps his cool about all the mess, but who would? I even want to punch me in the face sometimes for half the crap I do. However, he does know he married an ADHD self-proclaimed artist who cannot commit to change long enough to make it stick. But I guess that's what made him fall in love with me, right? My beautiful free spirit? The way I can just go with the flow? Or my amazingly creative brain? 

No, it was none of that. We met on a blind date. The reasons he fell in love with me was alcohol and the fact that I have a big butt and nothing else. 

So here's a big THANK YOU! to the man who absolutely and willingly deals with my crazy antics and scattered brain. Thank you for teaching Vedder how to do things like hang up his jacket while I teach him about how we can open the window and take all the snow off of the sill to play with it on the kitchen floor. Thank you for putting us both to bed at night. Thank you for creating such balance in my life. And thank you so much for truly loving me through all of this craziness that you have fully committed to. 

You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. 

Funny thing happened on the way to see Santa..

..Well actually, on the way home after seeing Santa. 

Our two and a half year old was in full Scrooge mode last night yelling "no Santa! No tree! No lights!" for our annual holiday walk through Manhattan last night. Despite a few tantrums and obviously not at all being humbled with holiday spirit, we made it through the night with a few nice photos. 

On our way home we had to stop to grab Vedder a new sippy cup for bedtime. This is when full meltdown mode began. Trying to be calm and talk him through it didn't work, so the "no toys, trains or tv" came into play. We made our exit out of the store, grabbed slices to-go for dinner and headed home. There the three of us began to calm down and slowly unwind. While eating dinner this little voice said "Mumma, I want to say sorry to dada" (he had hit during his tantrum an hour before and that's when the "no toys when we get home" went into effect). I said "Ok. Dada is sitting right here. You can tell him" With these big puppy dog eyes and a little soft, shaky voice, Vedder said "So sorry Dada I hit." Our hearts exploded! He was beginning to think about his actions and was coming to apologize on his own! THIS IS HUGE! Michael and I smiled and looked at each other. We shared that "F-- yeah! We got this parent thing down pat!" 

That was until we heard what he said next. 

With out even breathing. "ok sorry Dada. Now I play trains" 

What? You just pulled that to get what you want and not because your mumma and dada have instilled compassion and the concept of learning right from wrong in you?!?! Damn it! That little sh-t! Are you kidding me? Two and a half and he' already calculating "I'm sorry so I can get my way." I was sure we had at least ten more years before the mischievous calculating went on in that little brain of his. 

No he didn't get toys or trains or tv. But he did knock down our parenting ego a notch. 

And now I can't help thinking that my karma is coming back to me.. in full force.  Damn it. 

Sorry, mom. 

The weekend we just lived.

I like to think I'm a good mom. I make time each night after work to sit and play, read or even watch TV with my son. I teach preschool during the day and then at night bring home exciting surprises like ABC flash cards to play with or play dough for of course fine motor. (Neither of these things does he truly care about but someday my future Harvard Grad will thank me.) On weekends I get no housework done because I would rather take Vedder all over the city discovering new things. We go to music class, the park, museums. I snap photos of our every adventure and post our moments on instagram and Facebook. Then the "likes" and comments come rolling in and I smile that people think these moments are as beautiful as I do. This past weekend was different. My last post was of a very happy toddler hamming it up in his car seat ready for his first official getaway with just mumma and daddy. Last post at 8 pm Friday night, goodbye new york and your busy streets. hello vermont and your amazingness, read the caption.

Now for some of you you're probably thinking "And? So you went a weekend without posting on Facebook? So what?" Others know how hard that task actually is. (I do have to admit, I did sneak in one instagram post on our car ride home Monday afternoon) I'm not an addict. I could probably go a week without posting no problem. But for my husband who believes I truly have an addiction, I made a promise not to post or even check Facebook for an entire weekend. I never thought it would actually have a serious impact. But it did.

Instead of instantly sharing funny, beautiful, or aggravating moments with my family online, I just lived them. I looked for no comments or likes or any sort of gratification via social networking. I just lived the moments, still snapping pictures, but it ending with that. Then I continued living.

In one moment, I tried to capture the perfect family photo and got aggravated because I couldn't stand the way my husband was unenthusiastically smiling and the way my face looked because the wind was blowing my hair everywhere. Vedder continued to just sit there smiling his ass off and of course looked perfect in every picture. This session ended with me and Michael screaming at each other and Vedder teaching himself how to hit the button and run to the couch before the timer finished and the camera flashed. This lightened the mood and we lived on.

Maybe it was the wine tasting earlier in the day mixed with the beers we were drinking, but in another moment I forgot about me and was just Mumma. Sitting at a table at Long Trail Brewery while having dinner, I bent towards Vedder, and he ran his car from my shoulder over my head back and forth creating a tangled mess. He laughed hysterically as I made obnoxiously exaggerated squeaks of "What are you doing to mumma? There's a car on my head!" I remember reading a mom's blog about getting in the picture. No matter that she hadn't lost the baby weight or didn't have makeup on or her hair done, she got in the picture with her son. This is exactly what I thought of as two matchbox cars rolled over my head, back and forth. When I would usually sit back and quickly fix my hair and find something else to entertain Vedder, I instead just sat there, with cars in my hair. Vedder isn't going to remember what my hair looked like, and to be honest, probably won't even remember the moment at all. But in the moment he laughed "haha mumma! Cars!" repeatedly and I will never forget it.

Our last moment of our family vacation was definitely less than perfect. As we settled back in at home, unpacking and getting ready for the work week, Vedder got ready for bed. Michael asks me where Ted (Vedder's bear that goes absolutely EVERYWHERE) is. As we begin to search, we both get a bad feeling. He was left in the rental car. I frantically called Hertz while Michael continues to search the house. No one was answering. There was a few inches if snow already on the ground and the wind was whipping more snow around. Not to mention it was freezing out. No hope. What if he fell out in the street while we unpacked the car? We went out to search. He had to be in the car. NO ONE IS FUCKING ANSWERING!! We were freaking out. Vedder was just sitting watching Backyardigans, having no clue the chaos and stress going on around him. Michael put his shoes and jacket on and walked 28 blocks in the snow to the rental car company. I put Vedder to bed trying to distract him with a bottle, a few bunched up blankets and other stuffed animals in hopes that he would be to distracted to notice Ted was gone. Five minutes later "Is Ted? Ted? Is Ted?" I called my parents and cried. After an hour or so waiting at Hertz, Michael called. "Got him!" He was found outside the old rental under inches of snow. I was so happy I cried again.

Three days of traveling, eating, playing in the snow, shopping, cooking, taking pictures, laughing, loving, loosing Ted and then finding him. Three days of living together as a family of three and nothing else. In all its craziness it was perfect.

And now as I share these moments on my blog, Facebook and twitter, you're probably thinking? Well what's the point, you just contradicted yourself by writing this entire post. The point of my weekend wasn't giving up ever sharing photos and stories. It was just giving up instantly sharing them. This weekend allowed me to live the moments, appreciate them and reflect on them. And then share with the world :)