reflection - hooey!critic

Seasons of Motherhood

March 11, 2013 by Neena 2 Comments

It’s 65+ degrees right now and I’m sitting in my backyard staring at the barren trees. There are a few tufts of grass greening up and poking through, but the trees continue to show the remnants of a cold Winter. Within another month those trees will be bursting with various shades of green and some will even shower us with flowers that almost make the trees look like they are covered in snow. So quickly this back yard will change from dry and see-through to lush and full.

Motherhood often makes me feel the same way.

I have moments of parenthood that feel more like the naked landscape of winter – where I am barely holding on while wondering ff things will ever change into something more. These are the moments where I question if I am a good parent. Do I love my kids enough? Am I doing enough to make sure they are learning what it means to be humble or sensitive or inclusive? Am I making the right choices for schools and extracurricular experiences? Should I help them floss better? Should I be teaching them to do their own laundry or giving them more time to just be children?

These are the thought that run through my head while I’m trying to fall asleep. Am I doing enough?

Strangely, though, in such a quick moment things can change. It’s a split second really. In the midst of questioning if I am doing enough or if I doing it correctly I see something emerge from my children.

My 5 year old looks at me and tells me that she won’t sing taunting cheers with her softball teammates because she doesn’t want the other team to have hurt feelings.

Or when my 8 year old asks if she can use her own money to buy bird seed so she can be prepared if the barn swallows come back this Spring to live on our porch.

Or when my 7 year old who tries to turn away when another kid in his karate class is testing for a stripe because he truly believes that one less person watching might keep this kids from getting nervous.

These moments help me to believe that I must be doing something right. I must be getting it right somehow.

I don’t see these moments everyday. Or maybe I’m just not noticing them on a daily basis. Maybe I should.

Because I need these moments. I need them to pull me through when I’m so unsure of my ability to be a good mother to these amazing little people. I need them as reminders that there is so much good happening even when there is a tantrum or spill or sibling spat over toys. All those must be growing moments as well – even if I fail to see it in the moment.

But for now I’ll keep watching the grass. I’ll listen to the last of the dry leaves rustle. I’ll remember that motherhood will have its seasons and, just as my children, my yard, and my parenting abilities wilt and struggle so will they emerge and grow.

This post was inspired by Raising Cubby: A Father and Son’s Adventures with Asperger’s, Trains, Tractors, and High Explosives by John Elder Robison. Parenting is a challenging job, but what challenges does a parent with Asperger’s face? Join From Left to Write on March 12 as we discussRaising Cubby. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Filed Under: book club, book review, books, motherhood, reflection, Uncategorized

Phasing Out

March 3, 2013 by Neena 2 Comments

This past Thursday I went to Muffins for Moms at Charlotte’s preschool. Every year they hold a small brunch to honor all the mammas. The kids make the most adorable crafts and projects to share and they even serve us a meal. It’s one of the sweetest and most treasured events of the year.

And Thursday was my last one.

I’ve attended this event since 2006 with one or more of my babies. I’ve watched their little crafts go from colorful scribbles on a page to showcasing their cute chicken scratch handwriting. I’ve watched them sing the ABC’s and count their numbers and move on to leading a whole classroom in a lunchtime prayer.

These events are designed to make all the mammas misty-eyed. And they’ve never failed to reach that goal. You can sit around and watch a room full of strong women break down when their child stand up and says “I love you a big as the stars in the sky” and presents them with a self-portrait attached to a crepe paper flower pot.

We’ll keep these momentos forever of course. They’ll sit on our desks or live on the refrigerator – held up by the strength of homemade magnets. We might pull them out over the year and be caught in the moments of remembering our babies when they were oh so small.

It’s so bittersweet. Heartbreaking to see them develop into independent little people with ideas and dreams. Exciting to watch those ideas and dreams become something real.

In two months preschool will be over forever. By Fall each of my babies will be in school full-time. I’ll still get to attend classroom parties and I’ll always showcase their school artwork. But the things they create at this age are magical for a different reason. I can’t explain it…just different.

I don’t want to let this phase go. I don’t know that I’m ready to live entirely in the phase of life where I say I’m a mother to kids. Not babies. Not toddlers. I know I must let it go, but just want to savor it a little longer…because this might be the only time they willingly tell the world they love me as big as the stars in the sky.

Charlotte at Muffins for Moms 2013

Filed Under: kids, preschool, reflection

Underblog Collective: On Passion

February 12, 2013 by Neena 2 Comments

I’ve never really considered myself to be a foodie. Sure, I like food and I absolutely love to eat! But, I’m not a snob about ingredients, difficulty, or whether something qualifies as ‘gourmet.’ My passion about food simply revolves around being in the kitchen.

I cook throughout the week, but on Sundays I always prepare a big dinner. I try to plan something that gives me the opportunity to be in the kitchen for several hours. Why? Because the kitchen feels like my church.

That sounds silly but it’s true. When I get to disappear into the kitchen on Sundays I have quiet time to reflect, think through what’s on my mind, and even pray about what’s on my heart. Sometime I turn on a little music and dance a little while the pot roast cooks or I saute some onions. I let the kitchen move me.

This is my time to do something for my family – put a little extra effort into a meal that really can’t be achieved on a busy weeknight running from activity to activity. I find myself longing for Sundays when I can escape to the kitchen for that incredibly necessary and special time. It might seem like I’m just turning out another meal for my family, but I need that time. The passion I feel when I’m in that environment is like nothing else for me. They may get a decent meal out of it, but I get the time to be whoever it is I want to be. I get the time to think through story ideas or how to address an issue on my heart. I get to have two hours where nothing matters but my passion for living in that moment.

Today I’m linking up with Project: Underblog for their first theme-based monthly link-up. This month’s topic? Passion. Link up your story on passion and explore what others have to say about the passion in their lives!

Filed Under: food, reflection

This is my child

January 29, 2013 by Neena 6 Comments

I watched her hop out of the car this morning – her ponytail swaying back and forth as she walked into the preschool as independent as possible for her young age – and thought ‘this is my child…’

This is the little girl who, just moments before, was laughing in the car with me as we listened to spoken word poetry and discussed who is the landlord in her imaginary dog tenement. This is the little girl who cares for sick and injured stuffed animals as if they suffer from real ailments.

She looks up at me with her big, bright eyes – made even more glorious by her sassy purple frames, and tells me ‘It’s time I learned to read.’

Okay, baby, mama will teach you. Mama will teach you anything you want to know.

She sings when she plays. And she gallops and glides and flutters when she walks. This is my child who begs “just one more minute” when I hug her as I tuck her into bed at night – swallowed up in the bed by all the “people” she feels the need to take care of as if they had genuine heartbeats.

This is my child – who blows me away with the stories and feelings that exist within her at such a young age – newly five and already worrying how to correctly swaddle a newborn and make baby food from scratch and living near enough to me to come over and visit as often as she wants. Someday she’ll be a mother and I’ll watch with the same wonder…the same awe as I did when she walked into that preschool anxious to fly and stay grounded at the same time.

This is my child – practically created out of thin air – in a moment filled with nothing more than passion and the desire to write the first line of a new love story. And, oh man, what a story she’s telling…

Filed Under: charlotte, childhood, reflection

Secrets

January 20, 2013 by Neena 8 Comments

This morning my husband and I were laying in bed having an early morning coffee date. We usually get up and rush to start the day, but decided today to spend a little extra time snuggled in the warmth of our quilts. Within minutes all three kids (and the dog!) crashed our party. They climbed up in the bed and decided to worm their way down into the blankets. It’s a big deal for the kids to be allowed in our bed. They know if they are invited into our domain that it is a special thing.

Once they were all snuggled into place the talking and giggling started. We asked our oldest about her friends at school and she dove right in to a rather large diatribe on her friend ‘Sam.’ She told us all about him – how nice he is, how well-behaved he is in class, and how he wants to marry her.

Then she shared a secret with us…

“I’m starting to ‘like like’ him.”

We didn’t know what this meant in third grade terms. So we asked. She explained it all to us and let us know that this was her secret. We encouraged her to always share her secrets with us. She just smiled and giggled.

We all have secrets. Some are buried deep and will remain unspoken. Some are silly to us yet a big deal to others. Some secrets get put in writing – filling up the pages of journal and diaries. I want my children to have secrets. Yet, at the same time I want them to share the big ones with me. There is something magical about keeping a snippet of knowledge to oneself and knowing that only you possess the depth of knowledge. Yet, there is something rather bonding and special about knowing you always have a person to share those secrets with when you’re ready. Someone who will listen. Someone who will share in the joy…or the fear. Someone who will dispense advice without bias. I want me children to have that in me. While I know they won’t always share their stories with their mother, I hope they’ll always realize that they can…when their ready.

For now I’ll take the giggles on a Sunday morning as my daughter tells me all about ‘Sam’… That’s enough at this point.

This post was inspired by mystery thriller novel The Expats by Chris Pavone. Kate Moore sheds happily sheds her old life become a stay at home mom when her husband takes a job in Europe. As she attempts to reinvent herself, she ends up chasing her evasive husband’s secrets. Join From Left to Write on January 22 as we discuss The Expats As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Filed Under: book review, reflection

Refreshed and Ready?

January 1, 2013 by Neena 4 Comments

Just before the holidays I decided to take a hiatus. I needed the break – not just from writing, blogging, and social media, but also to focus and connect with my family. I kept thinking that if I took a little break I’d have some writing epiphany and come back as something different…and possibly better. I’d be a new “Me” with a stronger voice, and words that couldn’t be written fast enough.

Yea, that didn’t happen.

But it’s not a bad thing.

See, when I disappeared on hiatus I secretly hoped the blogosphere would stop and wait. I had a strange expectation that my community, my friends would be waiting anxiously for more writing – spending their time reading archives and posting insightful comments on the years of posts I’ve published. I hoped to be missed so much that it would be like a party coming back – complete with streamers, Woo Hoo’s, and thousands of virtual hugs.

But before I even started writing this post I realized that having that expectation was totally and completely unfair. The world continued just as it was and, frankly, nobody really noticed I was gone. And that’s okay. I realized that if I’m not here to engage, to share, to comment, and to absorb your words there is no reason I can expect anyone else to do the same. I can’t expect engagement if I’m not fully doing my part. And I haven’t been. But at the same time it is unbelievably refreshing to know that, even if we choose to step back for a while, we can jump back in at anytime. And we can do this in a way that is shaped and fitting to what we need.

I realized on this hiatus that I don’t feel the need to write everyday. Sometimes there are just no words. Other times there was something happening and I ached to jump in and share. It was a pull…a need. So I’ve come to accept that for me blogging is something that has to happen only when I feel it. That might mean 5 posts a week – it might only be a handful a month. I don’t need to keep a writing schedule similar to other bloggers…I just need to be me.

One of the most significant reasons I decided to take a hiatus was to decided for myself if it was time to close this blog and pursue other projects. I needed to decided if I had said enough, written enough, and justified the cost enough to close shop. Was I done? Am I finished?

The answer is no. I still have more things to say, feelings to share, and transitions to move through that just wouldn’t feel the same if I didn’t have this online community to share everything with. I’m not ready to give up the connections I’ve made. I’m not ready to close this chapter. It may never become anything profound or life-changing, but it’s too much a part of me to let go…

So, no. I’m not quite done yet.

There is still some refocusing that needs to happen – things I need to decided to make the most of the time I spend here. But, when my youngest recently turned 5 and I realized how much of my journey and how many of my memories are held in the arms of this space, I knew I couldn’t say goodbye.

So, I’m saying hello…again.

Hello to new opportunities.

Hello to new writing.

Hello to new journeys.

Hello to new (and old) readers.

I’ve missed you, friends!

Filed Under: reflection

It’s time…

November 29, 2012 by Neena 6 Comments

My 5 year blog anniversary recently past. I forgot about it until after the fact. It just kind of slipped by unnoticed and, when I finally realized it, I wasn’t sure how much I cared.

I’ve been praying quite a bit about what to do with this space. I’ve mentioned before that this blog is hovering in a weird transition place. My children – my lovely children – are at the age where I no longer feel comfortable talking about them in the same fashion as I used to when this was clearly a “mommy blog.” They are becoming their own little people and I believe that these are now their stories to share – not mine. Now that the PhD is a slightly distant memory I am left with a void in this blog that was once filled with my crazy adventures as a tattoo-sporting, stay-at-home mom, and conservative feminist making waves in academic circles. Plus, so much research into the area of mommy blogging forced me to pull back the curtain and view things from the other side. And that caused some of the magic of this space to be lost. Most of my online time has been filled with establishing Project: Underblog and working with the amazing writers and submissions as they help celebrate small communities. So this space gets pushed to the back burner. Most days it sits empty…forgotten.

So what is left? Where do I go at this point?

I’m not sure yet if it is time to let this space go. To say good-bye permanently and allow myself to focus on other efforts. I’m not ready to declare that. But I am ready to take a break. So that’s what I’m going to do.

As of today I’ll be going on a hiatus until at least after the holidays I’ll be stepping away from this blog so that I may spend time with my family, immerse myself in our holiday traditions, and put my efforts into what matter most to me right now.

This break will also give me time to figure out exactly what this blog needs to be (or if it needs to be at all!) I don’t want writing here to be a chore. I don’t want the luster to be gone to the point where maintaining the blog becomes more of a have to rather than a want to. To give myself time to figure it all out I must step away. I need to step away. This space has meant so much to me and that is why I must step back before any decisions are made. This isn’t goodbye. It’s more of a “see ya in a bit!”

I’ll still be around – working tirelessly over at Project: Underblog – and I hope you’ll come visit there and see what amazing stories we are sharing. But, more than that – I want to thank every reader, every commenter, every connection that has been made in this space over the last 5 years. It’s been incredible – and that’s why I’m not sure if I can let go yet…

So for now – I wish each one of you an amazing holiday season. I hope you are blessed and loved in all your warm, gooey places. I’ll see ya after the first of the year…I promise!

Filed Under: blogging, reflection

This life…

November 19, 2012 by Neena 3 Comments

Sometimes I look around at my life and think…it couldn’t be more perfect.

I look at the worn couches in our living room and picture teddy bear-like puppies snuggling on the cushions and children snuggling their toes in furry creatures as they read at night.

I clean out my bookshelves and marvel at the knowledge each book contains and how lucky I am to have the chance to absorb any bit of it at any time.

I peel potatoes for a pot of chicken soup or organize groceries in the pantry and appreciate the art of making a home for my family.

I fold little socks and drive to activities with coffee in my hand and noise from the back seats and think how special it is to hear their voices in sing in the background.

I put a welcome mat at the front door. I pay bills. I buy glitter shoes for a family night at the Nutcracker. I attempt to build a dollhouse to surprise my 8-year-old on Christmas. I giggle at terrible knock-knock jokes and pause to look at magnets on the fridge showing pictures my children colored.

Maybe some might see these tasks, these domestic tasks as mundane, but I do not. I see each one as part of the canvas that is the embodiment of my life and each of these tasks is just another color, another brush stroke to fill in the picture I am meant to create. I only get this one life. This one, brief life. Rather than focus on what could be different, I am choosing to focus on how all of it brings me a sense of joy. A sense of gratitude.

This life is small. This life is valuable. This life is perfect…for me.

Filed Under: reflection

iServe

November 8, 2012 by Neena 4 Comments

I’m always amazed at how quickly the holidays sneak up on me. It feels like we were just in the midst of back-to-school chaos and now it’s time to think about turkey and gifts and decorations. We try to avoid going overboard with gifts for the children because we want them to understand the true meaning of the holidays. Yet, every year I end up realizing that the “commercialization” of the holidays extends well into the extra people in our children’s lives: teachers, ballet instructors, karate teachers, scout leaders, etc.

The kids always make the effort to create a card or picture for these important folks and I usually supplement their creativity with some sort of homemade gift. Even limiting it to that much can greatly extend a holiday budget if one is not careful. And, I have a sneaking suspicion that most of these folks are so overwhelmed with gifts from students that it likely becomes a burden to them. The result of all this is families working to include all those extra people with something thoughtful and meaningful and all those extra people being bombarded with things they probably don’t need. I mean, come on! How many Santa mugs does a 24-year-old karate instructor really need!?

But this year I’ve learned that things are going to be a bit different. Our karate studio informed all students that they do not want ANY gifts this year. They were adamant about it! They explained that while they always appreciate the thought and gestures from students that they really have everything they need that is important. What they asked instead is for service. Yep, service. Our studio has adopted a women and children’s shelter and promised to provide Christmas for the 20+ families living within the shelter. These are folks who have nowhere else to go, are struggling financially, and many are escaping abusive situations. The instructors stated that, without the service of their students, the families at the shelter would not have the means to have Christmas.

Their request: write letters, create pictures, and (if possible) donate gift cards (for gas, groceries, clothing, etc) to the studio. From the donations collected and from their own pockets they will provide Christmas to the 20+ families living at the shelter.

I was thrilled when they shared this idea! I think it is so much more meaningful than any other gifts they could receive from students. It’s showing the kids a form of kindness, charity, and caring. And it’s taking some of the key values of karate and making them “real” for these children. We’ve decided to have our children use their own money to purchase gift cards and we will match whatever amount they spend. We will donate our gift cards as a family and offer our help or services in any way we can.

This whole “iServe” project is just one more reason why I feel we’ve made a great choice in having our kids attend this karate studio. They get it. And they make sure the students get it too.

And I believe that is much more powerful than anything I could put inside a Santa mug.

picture courtesy of google

Filed Under: holidays, karate, reflection, Uncategorized

No, son, you cannot go trick-or-treating!

October 28, 2012 by Neena 3 Comments

Sometimes this parenting gig sucks. Down right sucks a big fat one. And last night I got a first hand experience on the immense suckage that parenting can have.

Last night our neighborhood held its annual trick-or-treating event. We invited a couple of the kids’ friends over since they live off a country road and are limited in where they can trick-or-treat. We set up a little party for the kids, ate pizza, made caramel apples, and allowed for much more chaos than we normally would. I blame the sugar.

As we started to get the kids ready to hit the neighborhood we notice our son’s behavior was quickly going south. We’ve been dealing with some rough behavior from him for weeks. I don’t know if it is a boy thing or just a 7-year-old phase, but we don’t tolerate anything less than respect. We’ve tried different punishment tactics and nothing has worked. But as we watched him act out and pretend to hit one of us because of something we said we made an executive decision.

He was going to miss trick-or-treating.

We knew this consequence would have an immediate and rather large impact. We knew it had to be something big to get through his head and make him realize he couldn’t behave in certain ways at anytime – let alone when we have company or are out in public.

He started to cry and my husband took him back in the house. My friend and I headed out to take the other kids trick-or-treating. We talked as we went from house to house and she agreed that, as heart breaking as it was to watch, it was probably the right thing to do in the situation.

By the time we got home I could tell he was still upset. He was out of his costume and helping my husband answer the door and hand out candy. He saw the other kids come in and begin sorting their loot. His bucket was virtually empty except for a few piece I put in there earlier in the day. While his face was full of hurt he did manage to hold it together. The other kids we unbelievably kind and generous and each gave him a good handful of their candy. His eyes lit up and he showered everyone with thanks and appreciation.

As the night closed and our friends left Jacob snuggled up to me and offered a sweet and genuine apology for how he behaved. He talked about disliking losing out on the fun and how it was his choice to misbehave. He even told me about a lady that came to the door with her kids and asked why he wasn’t trick-or-treating.

“I lost my privilege ” he said.

He understood. He got it. He realized the impact his behavior can have. And that is a very good thing.

But I hated every minute of it. I hated watching him suffer. I hated seeing him miss out. I hated that I couldn’t play Good Cop and forget the whole incident. I know he wouldn’t have learned a damn thing if we had done that, but at least both our hearts would have remained in tact.

Again, this parenting gig sucks sometimes.