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. 

The night the Grandad Train came to our home

Twenty years ago, Michael (my dad, not my husband.. but now that I write that, I guess there is some Freudian thing going on) came into my life when he started dating my mom. I began calling him dad soon after and haven't stopped. They married when I was eleven. In the ceremony he also exchanged rings with my sister and me, us taking him as our dad. My brother did the same with a ring from my mom, ceremonially making us siblings. This day solidified our family. When I was thirteen, I changed my last name to his. My dad has always been the rock to our family. I have always been thankful for everything he has done for me (even though it took me years to show it). However, what happened last night is much more than I will ever be able to thank him for.

When Vedder was born, my dad said he wanted to be called "Grandad." We laughed and try to tell him not to give his hopes up. Vedder began to call him "DingDong." We laughed harder. Then not long ago Vedder started saying Grandad and hasn't stopped since. He talks about Grandad and the "Grandad Train" (Amtrak) every day. Last night, all he wanted to do was play trains with Grandad.

This breaks my heart. I live with my husband and son in NYC. When I moved here five years ago, I had no real plans for staying this long. However life happens. Now I am here (with still a hope in my heart that we will one day be back living in Massachusetts). I talk to my family often. I text with my sister almost daily, my brother frequently, and facetime with my parents every weekend. I dream of raising my child in the suburbs with a yard he can run in and I can watch him from the kitchen window.

But for now, a trip up to MA every few months and the everyday advances in technology, help Vedder to have a relationship with Nani, Grandad, Auntie, and Unc.

So back to my story about last night.

While facetiming with Auntie, Vedder kept asking if she talked to Grandad. "Where's Grandad? Do you talk to Grandad? I want to play trains with Grandad." So we hung up with my sister and called my mom. Mom instantly answers the phone. "Hi, Vedder!!" "Ummm, Nani, I want to see Grandad." ((My poor mom and sister. Right now in V's life NO ONE measures up to Grandad.))

As soon as they see each other over the iPad, they laugh hysterically. This happens every time we facetime, and lasts for the first few minutes of the call. Just looking at each other laughing. Warms the heart.

Then after talking a bit, Vedder said "I want to play trains with Grandad." We moved the iPad onto the floor of his room. He showed my dad his train tracks all set up. While Vedder pushed around the trains, my dad said "Chugga Chugga Choo Choo!"

This lasted a few more minutes, but Vedder kept looking at me and saying "I want to play trains with Grandad." Obviously it was getting to the point where having Grandad watch from the iPad wasn't good enough. He wanted him there in person. This confused and longing look on Vedder's face broke my heart. And while my mind began to wallow in self pity for living so far away, something amazing happened.

I looked over at the iPad and noticed my dad. He had his head laying down on the kitchen table, imitating Vedder (he lays down on the floor to play trains). My dad had a small black Brio train in his hand, gliding it back and forth on the table. Vedder saw this and smiled. I saw this and cried. They were really playing trains together. Two hundred and fifty miles apart. My heart was so full it could have burst!

They played like this for a while. And as I became the official "FaceTime iPad Holder" I knew I was no longer needed (well, except to be the FaceTime iPad Holder). They played trains, made choo-choo noises, and watched each other. It was beyond the most perfect moment.

Like April 19th solidified our family years ago, February 5th is the day that solidified Vedder and Grandad's bond. They are best friends, and this moment is something they will have for the rest of their lives.


((SIDENOTE: I would also like to thank my parents. Not every family has the amount of love that ours does and I am so grateful for everything you have taught and shown me. It is because of your love and parenting - and our arguments, my rebellion, and your forgiveness - that has truly molded me into the mom I am today. I would be so lost without your constant love and guidance. Thank you for never giving up and always showing me that family is the strongest bond there is. Blood does not make a family, the people in it do. I am so proud to be your daughter.))

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 :)