Parenting

All posts tagged Parenting

Mothering

Published July 26, 2017 by hrhdana

I am mothering a little girl.
I want her to be
everything that she can dream
innocent and whole and free
present and at home in her body.
I want to be
the right balance of open road and safety rail.
I want my mothering to be balanced.
I know she has to hurt, fail, cry, fall
I can’t protect her from it all.
I want to.

I am mothering a hungry mind.
I want to fill her with
self-love,
tenacity,
kindness,
wisdom.
I want to be
the perfect mixture of
speaker/leader
and active listener.
I want my mothering to
honor her voice
teach her to make good choices.
I know that we will fight.
It’s alright.
She will learn how to give and receive
Apologies.
Lessons on how to resolve things.
Sometimes I will get it wrong.
And she?
Will love me anyway.

I am mothering a feminine body.
I want her to
always feel at home in herself,
love her construction,
execute bodily autonomy,
live a life free of shame.
I want to be
an impermeable barrier
protecting her innocence.
I will be a woman first
know when to pull back and let her bloom.
I want her to be free.

I am mothering a soul, an essence.
I want her to
connect to the infinite
be love
practice self-care and empathy
embrace her innate royalty
her divine connection to the almighty we.
I want to be
a role model sharing my own journey
a listener so she talks to me.

I want so much
for us.
I pray hard
that I can be enough.

I am mothering a little girl.
She is the most important thing in my world.

Imperfect me!

Published April 7, 2016 by hrhdana

I never thought I’d be a Mom.

I desperately wanted to be one.

I knew when I was a kid that I wanted to be a wife and a Mom.

Real talk.

But when you make it to 30 plus and it hasn’t happened for you, you start to believe that it won’t.

Then it did.

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I think I floated for 3 years. I marveled in every milestone and accomplishment. I woke up and went to sleep with prayers of thanksgiving dancing off of my lips. I researched parenting like it was a master’s class. I subscribed to every blog, purchased at least 40 books and lived on parenting websites. I knew what kind of Mom I was going to be. I was going to be patient and fun and creative and loving. I was going to be kind and calm and supportive. I was going to be perfect.

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That is always my goal. To be perfect. No matter how many times I tell my therapist that I know I cannot be perfect. No matter how many times I said that I know perfection is impossible, unattainable and just a way that I self-sabotage, I still believed I could do THIS thing, this Mommy thing as close to perfect as possible. I mean I had never done anything THIS important before. I had never had a blessing THIS big before. Surely I could do THIS thing perfectly. Surely I could.

I tried. Mommying consumed me. I don’t know how my friends put up with me. I had nothing to contribute to conversations unless it was about my Little Bit. I lost me. And I lost me so well that it took me at least two years to even notice that I was lost. The most depressing part was that even in throwing my all in to my parenting I wasn’t perfect. I still lost my temper with my little blessing. I still struggled with playing on the floor with her. I still couldn’t make Pinterest creations translate in to real life. I still burned dinner sometimes. I never did make it to Michael’s or get my Christmas cards out this year. I still couldn’t get her to eat avocado and she didn’t care that it was a “perfect” food. Sighs

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And it stopped being fun for me. I love my kid with everything in me. She is amazing. She is smart and kind and funny and gorgeous and patient and stubborn and she makes me proud every single day. But I? I was falling short in so many ways. She was watching hours of TV when I know that the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) recommends that kids 2 and older have no more than one to two hours daily. She was drinking juice. And not only juice, but the kind I brought from a store and not the juice I told myself that I was going to make for her with organic produce in my juicer at home. She was off of vegetables almost completely. She was eating candy for Christ’s sake! What kinda perfect Mom lets her kid have candy?!?!?! I was failing. And it wasn’t fun for me anymore because instead of seeing a happy, well-adjusted kid all I was seeing was MY failure at the most important blessing God had ever given me.

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I failed. Again.

Parenting will reveal every single patched over wound that you possess. Your children will strip you bare of all the makeup you wear for the world AND for yourself. My kid is like a magnification mirror that shows me all of the places inside of me that are decidedly UN-perfect. And it is hard. Because if I want to be the best Mom that I can be it starts with being the best Dana I can be. That means owning my crap. That means removing the foundation I slather on my face and addressing the problem that caused the dark spots under my eyes. It means getting the actual sleep I need so I don’t look like a raccoon. It means accepting my imperfections and doing what I can to address the problems that I am hiding under makeup.

 

And it’s hard.

Did I say that already?

So, here I am. I am standing here naked faced admitting what everyone else knows. I am not a perfect Mom. I’m not a perfect anything. And if I keep trying to be what I cannot be it will squeeze all of the joy out of my life. This is a lesson I have been trying to learn for decades now. I tell my therapist at least once a month that I’ve accepted my imperfections. But I haven’t. I still want desperately to be the perfect Mom. But I can’t and it isn’t any deficit in me. It is an unattainable goal. It is not possible.

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I am the best Mom that I can be to my Little Bit. She loves me for who I am to her. She tells me almost every single day that I am, “the best Mommy she ever had.” Lol I realize there isn’t much competition in that arena but I’ll take it. I love her perfectly. No one can take that from me or from her.

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New fairy tales

Published November 24, 2015 by hrhdana

When I was a little girl my Mommy read me fairy tales.
Princes on horses who would come and save me.
Brave men who traveled great distances
to save princesses.
The princesses were always blond
blue eyes
thin thighs.
Nothing like me.
But I believed.
And I wanted desperately
to be saved.
No decisions to make
no battles to face
a brave prince
that would cover me
ride me in to my happily
ever after on his brave and reliable steed.
I kissed frog after frog after frog after frog
waiting
believing
He was coming
to absolve me
of decision making.
I put the responsibility
of me
in the wrong hands
time after time after time after time after time.

And do you know who saved me?
Sisters.
Blood and by choice.
Helped me find my voice
cleaned my wounds
pointed me at the mirror
YOU ARE CAPABLE!
BEAUTIFUL!
POWERFUL!
YOU ARE ABLE!
And I didn’t believe them.
Kept looking on the horizon
for the prince I just knew was coming.
But my sisters
they were there.
Showing up. Reflecting care.
Loving me more than I did.
Cleaning tears
biting back the “I told you sos.”
Nothing but helpful.
They understood.

I’m writing new books for my daughter.
Princes are amazing.
But your sisters?
Babygirl your sisters
are EVERYTHING!
Choose them wisely.
Listen earnestly.
They give selflessly.
And they never leave.
My fairy tales for my princess girl
are about sisters who stand by her side
eyes open brimming with pride.
Brave and true.
Slaying dragons AND looking fly.
Scared but brave
not afraid to cry.
Look to your sisters babygirl
leave the frogs for the other girls who do not know.

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Down the rabbit hole

Published August 17, 2015 by hrhdana

Next month my Lil Bit is going to be four years old. I LOVE birthdays. I dislike children’s parties very much. LOL They are usually loud and crazy and expensive. Ever since I had a kid I’ve been looking at ways to celebrate that will make her happy and won’t make me insane. It’s a fine line folks.

For her 1st birthday we went to Puerto Rico. It was awesome and perfect. We spent the day on the beach. We chilled out. There was zero stress and everyone had a ball. We had a cake when we came back from P.R. with just family. I wanted to make traveling for her birthday our birthday tradition but when 2 rolled around money was scarce. I got roped in to the dreaded house party. It was loud and messy and by the end of the day she and I wanted to have huge tantrums. LOL I resolved not to do that again for as long as possible.

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Last year we went apple picking. I think I stumbled on to the perfect party for us. It was low maintenance. The kiddos had a blast. People could arrive whenever they wanted to. The setting was beautiful. I actually got to have conversations with the adults in attendance. Everyone left happy and tired. So this year we are going to do it again.

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Then the kid threw a wrench in my plans.

“Mommy, can I have a My little pony party for my birthday?”

“I thought you wanted to go apple picking again this year.”

“I do but I want my little pony too”

Okay, I thought. I can do this. I’ll still do the apple orchard but I’ll buy SOME my little pony decorations and call it a day.

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If you know me you already know that this plan has dissolved in to madness. LOL I can see how parents go insane with the party planning. I have fallen down the rabbit hole. She wants My Little Pony. There must be My Little Pony. Right? I’ve already ordered a dress for her in keeping with the theme. I’ve started buying MLP stuff for goodie bags. I’ve enlisted a cake maker to make a MLP cake. I’ve been on Oriental Trading and Party city websites looking for MLP tablecloths and cups and plates and napkins. I’ve looked in to a face painter who can make MLP facepaintings. I even looked in to MLP characters to come to the party in the damn apple orchard! I need HELP! I have fallen down the kid party rabbit hole and I can not find the exit!

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Where oh where has my chill gone? Where oh where can it be? LOL

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I’d do anything to make my kid happy. I really would but I am stopping myself. She will be FOUR! I don’t even remember my 4th birthday party. I have no illusions that I can or should make it grand enough for HER to remember. I am putting myself on party planning time out.

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We will go apple picking. She will wear her dress. There will be goodie bags. There will be cake. Everyone will go home with apples and Mommy WILL retain her sanity.

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Anyone know how to block party planning websites? Because even as I prepare to hit post I’m wondering about some cupcakes I saw on Pinterest and I’ve almost convinced myself that I can make them. Mommy down! Mommy down!

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Send help!!!!!!

Chronicles of a threenager

Published April 16, 2015 by hrhdana

Nia’s Elsa dress got taken away a while ago because she wasn’t listening. It actually went in to the garbage because she decided to feed it jello. (Don’t ask) Anyway, her behavior has been exemplary for a few weeks now so her Dad and I replaced her Elsa dress and added 3 other dress up outfits to it. Last night we tried them all on after bath and hair time. Then this happened.

Nia is looking at the photo of the accessories that compliment the two princess dresses.

Nia- Mommy you forgot something.
Me- What did I forget?
N-The Cinderella shoes, wand and tiara and the Rapunzel hair, crown and shoes.
M-I didn’t forget. Those were extra. You have shoes, tiaras and wands. And your own hair is more gorgeous than ANY fake hair so you don’t need that.
N-*grabs my face* Mommy if you are going to do something do it right. Isn’t that what you say? How am I going to be Rapunzel with Tianna shoes? Huh? How am I going to be Cinderella without the right crown? Come on Mommy.
M-Nia it’s all for playing pretend. You can pretend that those other tiaras match the character that you are playing.
N-That’s not princess Mommy. Princesses do it right from the shoes up. Now how do you feel? You can say sorry Mommy. It’s okay we all make mistakes.
M- laughing. Ummm sorry?
N-That didn’t sound real. Do you want to try again?

Young Girl Playing By Herself

Mommying be hard

Published March 19, 2015 by hrhdana

I’m a pretty cerebral person. Anyone who knows me can tell you that I over think things. I often get paralyzed in my own head when given too many options. I can research a topic for months and still come out unsure if I know enough to make a decision. I love information. I adore facts. I crave them. I want to know everything. And even though I know this is impossible, I try.

Enter parenting. LOL Parenting is something that defies research. Parenting happens in the moment and reveals your truest self to a person who barely reaches your waist. I have learned a lot about myself while parenting a toddler and a lot of it ain’t pretty. *hangs head* I have also learned that toddlers care not for logic or research. LOL They are 45% emotion, 45% stubbornness and 10% germs.  True story.

I have found myself attempting to explain myself to a 3 year old on many occasions. I can HEAR you laughing. But it just seems logical that if I can explain WHY I don’t want her to put dirty things in her mouth she won’t. I mean who wants to get germs, get sick and end up in the hospital? Not me. So I explain. Two seconds after the explanation and her declaration that she will, “not do that again Mommy. Only food goes in my mouth Mommy,” I find her licking a yoyo that was in the bottom of her toybox.  “Didn’t we just talk about this?” I ask. “Yes Mommy,” she answers while getting one more lick in. My brain literally wants to weep. How do I reach you little human? I’m literally stuck.

My child is stubborn. She has a will of steel. Lately she has been asserting this will at the strangest and most illogical times. 10 minutes in to our walk to school she declares, “I hate  this hat! I won’t wear it!” But it’s already on her head. It’s the hat she begged me to buy, with tears in her eyes. It’s the hat that is on her head under the hood of her coat. The hat, that she is now frantically trying to rip from her head, confused and enraged that it won’t come off. I watch her…fascinated. What the hell just happened? What am I supposed to do now? Who let ME be in charge?

“Nia, if you take your hat off you are going to be cold.”

Success. She has removed the offensive hat and flung it to the ground. I’m amused by her passion but confused at the same time. I pick up the hat and put it in my bag. I’m not fighting about this one. But she isn’t done.

“Why did you buy me that hat? I want to wear my princess one.”

“The princess one is at home. YOU wanted this hat”

I realize I am traveling down a dead end street with this conversation but it’s like the brakes are gone on my car.

“I want the princess hat NOW!”

“That isn’t happening. We are almost at school.”

She dissolves in to hysterical tears. Snot is running from her nose. Sobs are racking her little body.

I hold her hand and continue walking in silence.

I’m wondering what I should be doing? Should I empathize with her about the hat? Should I tell her to tighten up? Should I ignore her? Should I reprimand her? Force her to put the hat back on? Lost in thought I realize she’s stopped crying and is talking to me again.

“…and I love you Mommy.”

I grab a tissue from my pocket, look down at her small little tear stained face and whisper back, “I love you too little bit.”

No books prepared me for this. I want my money back.

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Raise her…

Published December 18, 2014 by hrhdana

I want to raise a warrior woman.
I want to invite her to have dominion over
her own mind
her body,
her time.
I want to raise her strong and whole.
I want to teach her that her beauty was a gift from God
but her heart is the most important part.
I want her to be fair.
I want her to care.
I want her to share.
I want her to live. I want her to be HERE!

There are lessons I will have to teach
that run contrary
to the goals you see
but reality
is real, you see.
And in this country
there are ugly lessons I will have to teach
for her own safety
it sickens me.

I want to raise a warrior woman.
I want her spirit to be unbreakable.
I want her to believe her dreams are all attainable.
I want to her to know she IS capable.
I want to invite her to have dominion over
her own mind,
her body,
her time.
I want to raise her strong and whole.

Now baby girl you stand up tall,
invisible crown can never fall,
own the spaces you inhabit, have it all
princess isn’t just a name you are called.
But when you see those flashing lights
forget your warrior spirit and comply.
If you find that you need help
access the situation yourself.
Call family first. We will come through
help you figure out what to do.
But if an officer stops you
just comply. I’ll fight for you.

I want to raise a warrior woman.
I want her spirit to be unbreakable.
I want…
I want…
I want…
my baby to live.

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Inspired by sparkly shoes

Published November 12, 2014 by hrhdana

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She wears diamonds on her feet.
Every fiber of her being
beautiful  confidence…future Queen.
Standing just three feet
Regal in her totality.
Excellence is what she eats.
She eschews mediocrity.

A single-mindedness that I admire.
This beautiful, determined ball of fire
and if you dare invoke her ire
She’ll burn hot
but
it won’t last.
She forgives fast.

She’s just the right balance of sassy and sweet.
Purposed royalty.
Invisible crown, back erect.
Makes you earn it while demanding respect.
Sticks to her guns without a care.
Knows what she wants but she’s happy to share.
Purposed royalty.
Future Queen.
Diamonds on her feet.

Tentative in new situations
appropriate for a leader of nations.
Can be swayed by candy or libations
She can be bribed.
Not saying it is right.
But no one and nothing is perfect.

She wears diamonds on her feet.
Every fiber of her being
beautiful  confidence…future Queen.
Standing just three feet
Regal in her totality.
Excellence is what she eats.
She eschews mediocrity.
She wears diamonds on her feet.

My progeny.

Blank pages, Blank screens and I’m losing me…

Published October 15, 2014 by hrhdana

I haven’t written anything in a long time.

I had an opportunity to do something big and it didn’t come together. I let that hurl me into the depths of self doubt, despair, and hand wringing.  I punished myself by not making time to write.

That was a lot of honesty right there. Here’s some more, I want BADLY to delete that.

Life happens. Most of the time we can not control what happens to us in life. What we can and do control is how we respond to it. I had a disappointment and my response was to have a temper tantrum that has poisoned every area of my life. I did that.

I have been a crappy Mom, a crappy friend, a crappy girlfriend and an all around crappy person because I made a choice to wallow in disappointment, fear and depression. I struggle with depression every single fall. When the leaves start to change I have to work harder to find my smile. I have to work harder to feel my joy. I know this. It’s been this way forever. But this year I just slid in to it. I didn’t fight or resist at all.

On the surface I probably looked the same. I stayed busy. I wore my public smile. I showed up to most of the places I am supposed to show up to. I started house hunting. I started the process to get a NACA loan. I did stuff. But inside? Inside I knew exactly what was happening and I let it.

I put my pens and my journals away and I slid in to this depression. I welcomed it. It’s been so long since I truly stopped fighting and just let it be. And I know. I know the consequences of falling to the bottom of the pit of depression. I know how much longer and harder I have to swim to make it back to the surface. I know how impossible that swim feels when I am exhausted by simply breathing. I know it all. But I still did it. I still let it happen. I shut off the voice that keeps me treading water and I just slid down in to the water.

Here’s the thing….I can’t breathe underwater. So now it’s time to swim or drown.

And I can’t drown. I have two big beautiful eyes watching me navigate life now. I have a precocious, beautiful, strong little girl learning how to deal with life from me. And I’ve been giving horrible lessons lately. I’ve been yelly and disengaged and miserable. sighs I own that too.

So today, I’m typing these words without proofreading. I’m ignoring the work on my desk.

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I’m swimming.

Learning while Mommying

Published September 12, 2014 by hrhdana

My daughter started school this week. For the first time in her life I sent her in to the company of strangers without me. It was terrifying but necessary. I have been blessed to have my Mom watch her since I returned to work after her birth and for 2 years and 11 months I didn’t worry one bit during the hours that I had to be away from her to make a living. I knew she was fine. I trust my Mom implicitly. I never worried. I was jealous. lol I wished I could be the one taking her to the park and teaching her songs and soaking up her kisses but I was never worried.  Sending my baby to someone I didn’t know was terrifying. Did I mention that already?

I had every intention of leaving her with my Mom until she started kindergarten. Maybe we would do a half day program or something when she was four but definitely not before then. But Nia (that’s my daughter) wanted to go to school. For 4 months she begged me to go to school. “I want to make friends mama. I’m big now mama. I want to learn things Mommy.” She was relentless. She would bat her beautiful, big brown eyes at me and plead with me. “Pwease can I go to school Mama? Pwease. Pwease. Pwease?”  “When you get bigger,” I would answer patiently. (I hope.) “But I AM bigga,” she would reply stretching her frame to illustrate her point. “I’m bigga NOW Mama.” I prayed about it. I watched her on the playground. She wanted to play but she didn’t know how to get in the game. I would help her. I would prompt her. “Go introduce yourself. Tell them your name and ask what their name is. ASK if you can play.” Kids were cool for the most part. She would get in the game and the joy, the absolute joy on her face was heart stopping.  It was time.

So we picked a school. It is the right combination of loving daycare and school prep. It’s located in a wonderful woman’s home. Nia’s god brother is in her class and her god mother has known the owner of the school for over 20 years.  We visited. Nia was excited. I was still terrified. I tried to hide it from Nia. I prayed continually. I asked 500 questions. I over-prepared. We got books from the library about school. We talked it up. We sang songs. We practiced independence. A week before she was scheduled to start Nia announced that she had, “changed my mind. I doan want to go to school.” Say what little girl? Huh? You are GOING to school. LOL I chalked it up to nerves. We talked about being nervous and how it’s okay to be scared when we do something new but it shouldn’t stop us from doing it. We painted pictures of the new adventures and friends that school would bring and how much she would love it. Nia was not convinced. “No school. I wanna stay with Mema.”

The first day we drove with Nia’s God parents and God brother so they could walk in together. She was excited to spend the day with him. He’s one of her favorite little people in the world. We walked in and she immediately changed her tune. “No Mama! Don’t leave me here! Pwease mama nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” she wailed. I held back tears. I calmed her down a little, said goodbye and left to the sounds of her crying and being held by her teacher. I had taken the day off so I went home and counted the hours until I could go and get her. When we walked in to the classroom she was sitting on the rug listening to a story. She looked over at me and my Mom (yes we BOTH went to get her-lol) but she didn’t react. She didn’t run to us. She didn’t smile. She just sat there and looked at us.  Her teacher brought her over to us and she submitted to our hugs and kisses. LOL My baby looked shell shocked.

The next day was worse. The teacher had to peel her off of me at drop off kicking, screaming, crying and begging me not to go. I cried my entire way to work. Wednesday and Thursday was more of the same. But in the afternoons when my Mom went to get her she never wanted to leave. She wanted to, “stay a little longer,” or “finish making this” So, she was engaged and liking it when she there. This went a LONG way to soothe my Mommy soul. Last night she and I had a conversation at bedtime. I told her that she is going to school. That is not going to change. She is going to go to school and I am going to go to work. It’s just the way that it is. BUT, I told her. You DO have a choice. You can choose to be sad and miserable every morning and cry or you can choose to make the best of it and have fun. When you feel sad just think about something fun that you get to do at school. She didn’t reply. I didn’t know if it made any sense. I didn’t know if it was over her little head. My kid is smart but she IS a toddler. I forget that often, because she is so smart. So I dropped it.

This morning as we approached the school she started getting herself worked up. I reminded her of her choice. I didn’t empathize as I had been all week. I was matter of fact about it. I rested her choice on her shoulders and let her know I was unaffected whichever way she chose. I watched my baby choose joy. I watched her physically shake off the sad and resolve NOT to cry. I watched her hug and kiss me and walk in to her classroom with dry eyes. I wanted to pump my fist. I am so proud of her. I hope today was her best day yet.

I also realized that as much as I might believe I was hiding my anxiety she probably felt it. She knew Mommy was scared and it fed her fears. I learn from being her Mommy every single day. Sometimes I have to travel down the wrong road for a while before I find my way but she is always watching me. She is always learning from me. I hope I’m teaching her that it’s okay to make a U-turn. It’s okay to be afraid and shoulder on. It’s okay to choose joy, even when you are nervous. And I hope I’m teaching her that she is loved no matter what she chooses.

This Mommy thing…the training is on the job huh? lol

Thanks for reading.