If You Give A Kid A Vision...

I was eagerly sifting through the clearance racks at Old Navy with a miniature Elsa trailing behind me. It was the battle I chose not to fight today. It was Friday. And I'm one of those work-in-progress parents who still has a lot to learn; learning to pick my battles is an ongoing lesson.

I had errands to run this morning, and we weren't leaving the house without Maggie being dressed in head-to-toe Elsa. This had been made clear to me from the moment she woke up

Maggie: "Mom? I'm going to wear my new Elsa dress today."

Me: "Well, we have a few stores to go to. So maybe you can put on the Elsa dress when we get home."

Maggie: ::staring::

It was a silent stand-off, and in the end, I decided it wasn't worth the fight. She was willing to wear a jacket, so what did it matter that she was boasting a princess outfit (complete with glittery cape) underneath it?

We stopped at a craft store, where the cashier, a middle-aged woman, noted, "Oh, don't we look fancy today?" She said it to me, rather than Maggie, in that chiding, indulgent way that we often speak to little kids, like, "nudge, nudge, wink, wink, we're all in on the joke." Maggie smiled politely and nodded.

After the craft store, we made our way over to Old Navy, whose enormous 75% window clings were too much temptation to bare. I was going through the clearance items when a deep voice from an aisle away said, "We have a princess in the store today!"

I immediately looked down at Maggie, who was looking up at me confused.

"He's talking about you, love," I informed her, smiling.

Maggie looked toward the aisle, where the Old Navy employee approached from. He was young, maybe college aged, with a shaved head and erring on the hipster side of fashion. He spoke directly to Maggie, crouching down so he was eye-level. 

"Your dress! It's beautiful! What's your name?" he asked.

She looked up at me shyly before answering him. "Elsa," she said.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. We don't have a princess in our store today. We have a queen!" he proclaimed exuberantly.

I watched Maggie take this in, her smile sheepish but proud. He spent another minute engaging her, complimenting her dress and thanking her for gracing him with her presence, before politely excusing himself.

We waved goodbye, and I continued looking around the store. Maggie-Elsa continued to walk behind me, but I couldn't help noticing the transformation that had taken place since our encounter. She stood taller, and looked in the mirror, assessing her dress.

"He really thinks I'm a real princess," she told me.

She looked people in the eye as we walked, nodding, and making jovial conversation with pretend kingdom visitors. Maggie acted like royalty because she believed the notion that she was royalty. Because someone else believed she was exactly who she thought she was, who she wanted to be. 

When I was a social worker, we often discussed self-fulfilling prophecies. In the field of child protective services, it was the phenomenon that a child, particularly in a situation of abuse and neglect, is told negative things over and over again from their caregiver. 

"You're stupid." 
"You'll never amount to anything." 
"You'll turn into a drunk just like your father."

And, in turn, the child takes these words to heart and they inadvertently come true. It's as though the parent believing these negative things about their own child wills them to become truths. I watched these situations become reality, with kids fulfilling these negative parental prophesies without even realizing they were doing it. It had become so engrained, it's all they knew to become.

Our words, our beliefs, have power.

We must wield them wisely.

I watched how a positive vision, believing that a little girl was a princess, made all the difference. We all want our kids to do well. We want them to thrive, to grow, to excel. I wonder, though, if we fall short of believing what they could be. Of believing in what they aren't yet, but could become. 

I realized from watching the princess encounter at Old Navy that there is a difference between encouraging our kids and giving them a vision. It's one thing to say, "I know you can write." And another to say, "You are a great writer." One supposes untapped potential; the other assumes the potential is realized.

What if we began believing in what our kids will become. Believing it, even if it isn't yet realized, but claiming the belief and believing it for our kids? 

How might that increase their confidence, their self-esteem? 

This morning, Maggie was, if even for a few minutes, truly a princess. And maybe princesses aren't your thing (they aren't particularly mine). But perhaps next time it's believing they are a teacher. A healer. A leader. An engineer. Believing that they not only have the potential to change the world, but that they will.  

That they already are.

If you give a kid a compliment, they'll feel good for a few minutes.

But if you give a kid a vision - a positive, uplifting, motivating vision - they might just prove you right.

To Pat from Old Navy in Exton: thank you. You gave both me and my daughter something to think on today.

Sleepovers: YAY or NAY?

Blue or red-checked?

I agonized over what pattern I should opt for in the sleeping bag my mom was purchasing. What would look the coolest? I couldn't fail my first sleepover, especially when every girl in my class would be there.

It wasn't until 4th grade that my parents finally acquiesced in letting me go to my first sleepover. I was late to the game, as many of peers had been attending sleepovers since Kindergarten or first grade. My first sleepover was a birthday party, and pretty much everything you'd imagine in an overnight bonanza: gluttonously grubbing on food, listening to music, playing Truth or Dare, gossiping and a lot of giggling. Just about anything but sleeping. I went home the next day in a zombie state, having had a scant amount of shut eye while my blood coursed with pure sugar.


Over the years, I spent many a night over the houses of friends - too many to count. Some were group sleepovers; others just one-on-one. I think back on these nights fondly (if not sleepily).

Now that I have a second grader, the sleepover requests have begun. There haven't been any official sleepover birthday parties (yet), but a few inquiries of having a friend stay the night.

And I'm conflicted. 

Sleepovers were a definitive part of my childhood, but, as a parent, I feel there are so many things to consider. Part of my hesitancy comes from my pre-kids work with Children, Youth and Families. I have so many stories, friends. Insane, sad, mystifying tales of the things that happen to kids. The disturbing reality of abuse is that perpetrators are almost always someone a child knows, and happens in a place a child would consider "safe."

One can't unknow, unhear, unsee the things I counseled as a caseworker. Some cases still haunt me. While this is a huge roadblock for me, there are others. I am concerned about not knowing parents well enough. Who are the people taking care of my child? Is the house safe? Are there weapons? Drugs?

I also think of the mischief I got into during sleepovers. Most incidents were innocuous enough: prank phone calls, Truth or Dare, unsuccessful cooking experiments. But I definitely encountered activities that bordered on age-appropriateness. And with bullying (particularly in social media) such a serious social issue right now, I worry that sleepovers make unsuspecting kids easy targets. 

There is also the question of whether or not a kid is simply ready.
My friend, Julie, of Juliverse has a great post which serves as a checklist for whether or not your child is ready for a sleepover. Both of my girls mostly pass the obstacles Julie covers, and I feel they are generally ready, socially and emotionally. Chica has some issues with nightmares (previously, night terrors) and talking in her sleep. So, that's also a definite reservation.

Where does that leave me? I vacillate between embracing the innocent fun of sleepovers and wariness of the potential hazards. I know kids need to learn independence, and I am hardly what one would consider a Helicopter Parent. 

But it's also our duty to keep our kids safe. Were sleepovers "less dangerous" when I was a kid? Of course not. There are new struggles today, though, that we didn't have to contend with ten or twenty years ago; namely, social media. And that's not something to overlook.

So, I'm still undecided. I'd love to hear others weigh in on the topic:

Are you okay with sleepovers? 

What age is appropriate to begin overnights with friends? 

What safeguards, if any, does your family have in place when it comes to sleepovers?

Join the conversation - leave a comment because I'd love to consider your thoughts. 

Reasons Why My Kids Wake Me Up In The Middle of the Night

As parents, we've all been there: the startled awakening from a deep sleep, caused by the small voice of your child calling out to you. There is no graceful way to handle this forced wake up. Glancing at the clock, I determine it's 0'dark hundred, an ungodly hour for anyone to be conscious. 

As one who wears contacts, I wrestle my covers to get out of bed and stumble half-blind in through my dark room, crashing into bed posts, falling over the clutter on the floor, all while assessing if my state of dress is kid-appropriate. I always rush, not knowing what has caused my child to wake, sometimes coming to near-injury on the small flight of steps between my room and theirs. In a panic (is this real or a dream?), I hurry to the afflicted child's bedside to determine what is wrong.

And 99% of the time, I find I have been awoken for a completely unreasonable issue. 

Here is just a short list of the reasons my children have woken me up in the middle of the night:

1) They had to ask if I believed dinosaurs became extinct due to an asteroid.
2) Their blankie dropped on the floor. 2 feet away from them.
3) It's too hot.
4) It's too cold.
5) They don't want to go to school tomorrow.
6) They want to read a book.
7) They had a bad dream.
8) They had to inform me that they would never, under any circumstances, want to be the owner of a Komodo dragon.
9) They tell if their sister is in her bed on the other side of the room.
10) They don't like the way their covers are laying over them. Would I mind adjusting them, please?
11) They want to read a book.
12) They heard a weird noise.
13) They have to go to the bathroom but won't go alone.
14) They don't like the outfit I picked out for them for school.
15) Can they have peanut butter and jelly in their lunch today?
16) They wanted me to know they really like chocolate chip cookies.
17) They needed me to know that their sister hit them today.
18) They need a drink of water.
19) They don't need a drink of water.
20) Their sister (who is 100% asleep) needs to tell me something.
21) They just wanted to know what I was up to. 

So for those who are in the season of babies, dealing with nighttime feedings and unknown middle-of-the-night crying sessions, it totally gets better.

What  reasons have YOUR kids woken you up in the night for?

To The Slightly Better Than Average Mom

Some days you just wake up defeated.

Not because of anything intrinsically bad about the day. Rather, you ended the previous day in defeat. As parents we've all had them: long, unending days that start with a fumble - a spilled milk, the wrong shirt, fighting over who gets to brush their teeth first - and that fumble dominos into a catastrophic and unstoppable Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day chain of events. 

On these days, it's everything you can do to wipe up the spilled milk to the din of fighting from the bathroom, only to have to grab a bandage for the scraped knee that just happened as the kids hurried down the stairs. It's a war zone: every mom for herself, triaging one disaster after another and HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU IT'S NOT OKAY TO BITE YOUR BROTHER OR THE DOG?

You're lucky to get lunch on the table, let alone the perfectly sculpted aquatic-themed lunch your friend Susie posted on Facebook, complete with cute fish cut out of cheese and hotdog octopuses. In this world of social media, where everyone can conveniently share only the greatest parts of themselves - the shining victories, the pictures of perfection- it's really easy to believe that if parenthood was a class that was graded, you'd be racking up a big fat F.

But, as our friend Titus Andromedon says on The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, it's all smoke and mirrors. A facade. A lie. We live in a high pressure Pinterest Perfect World where it's almost wrong to share our frustrations and failures. We don't share our struggles with postpartum depression. We don't share the moments where we cry in helplessness as our baby cries. We don't share the real photos of our bedrooms with unmade beds and dust accumulated like an inch of snow on the top of our dressers. We don't share that we've spent more time yelling than laughing in the past 24 hour time period. We don't share that sometimes we miss our pre-kids life. We don't share that some weeks are spent glaring instead of gazing at our partner across table.

Instead, we agonize over the carefully and purposely depicted perfect lives of those in our newsfeeds that we will never live up to. Their elation as a new mom. Their magazine-ready homes. Their Ina Garten-eqse meals. Their married selfies in the amber glow of a setting sun. We scroll, unable to shake the sinking feeling that everyone else has got this whole winning at life thing figured out while we flounder like a fish on dry land.

The struggle is real. And I don't mean that in a light-hearted meme kind of way. Struggle. Is. Real. It's part of life. And we all face it, whether we choose to admit it or not. Imagine how unattractive Pinterest would be if we shared the most real parts of ourselves. Unattractive, maybe. But so, so beautifully real. Because there is beauty in unity, in realizing you are not alone. That, yes, the struggle is real, but it is also universal and we're all in this together.

We're all in this together.

So, to the parents who went to bed defeated, who woke up slightly broken: you are winning today. The milk might be spilled. The kids may be fighting. The marriage might have tensions. And the walls of the shower may be slick with grime and begging to be cleaned. But you didn't dial it in today. You showed up. And the lunches may not be themed or perfectly sculpted, but it's made. You may not make it to the gym today, but you walked 5 miles around your living room to get your baby to sleep  And you might yell more often than you'd like, but you're here. 

You're trying. 

Your kids won't remember made beds and clean floors. They'll remember the muffins you made with them, which left crumbs on the counter. They'll remember the joke you told them when they cut their hand. They'll remember snuggling with you on the couch watching a TV show before bed. They'll remember the chaos of hurrying out the door to get to school on time.

Go confidently into the mess that is today. Remember that life is lived in the boring and mundane. Our memories won't be Pinterest Perfect, but they will be warm, imperfect and real. 

What matters most is who is in them.

Here's to the slightly-better-than-average parents.

Seasons of Love

I sit here, in the quiet of the morning, typing while I wait for my kids to wake up. It's after 8am, which has become the norm this summer. And while I've gotten used to my girls stumbling downstairs bleary-eyed at this time of day, I'm reminded of a time, not so long ago, when an 8am wake up would have seemed miraculous. 

I remember when Chica was first born, and I was completely blindsided by this whole "parenting" thing. And by "blindsided" I mean, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. It was an on-the-job learning experience wrought with frustration, anxiety and fear. Our first night home with her came with no instructions from the hospital. Around 8pm, I looked at Hubby and said, "So...do we just...put her down to sleep?"

While "just putting her down to sleep" was a nice idea, it's not quite what Chica had in mind. I had no idea what to do with this little pink being who spent the entire night crying. Which, in turn, meant I spent the entire night crying. Why won't she sleep? I thought wildly. What am I doing wrong? 

The first no-sleep night quickly became weeks upon weeks of fighting for sleep. Hubby started a new job shortly after she was born, so while he was up for helping, I shouldered the main burden of nights on my own. I soon came to dread night time. A cold, sinking feeling would creep into my stomach around 6pm, as the sun started its journey toward the horizon. I knew what the darkening night would bring: a fussy baby, breastmilk that didn't satiate the way I hoped it would, and the inevitable crying and rocking into the wee hours of the morning with a mind and body weary from lack of rest.

During these first few weeks, as I struggled not only with sleep but the overall transition to parenthood, I remember having the distinct, if not completely unrealistic, fear that this would be my life forever. That this mess of emotions, exhaustion, anxiety, crying that was my new life had no expiration date. Disheartened, I feared that I'd never sleep, eat or shower again.

But then, over time, things changed.

Of course they did. Because we don't go to college in diapers, crying all night, feeding out of a bottle every 2 hours. We grow, we evolve. And in the haze of newbornness, I couldn't wrap my mind around the truth: this, too, shall pass. One of the greatest lessons I learned as a new parent was that everything is a season. Some seasons are harder than others, but they all grow, change and evolve. Newborns will grow into infants who eat, sleep and smile. Our non-mobile babies will eventually roll, crawl and walk. Our non-verbal babies will turn into chatterbox toddlers. Our fussy eaters will soon become insatiable bottomless pits as they hit growth spurts in elementary school. Our struggling sleepers will, eventually, become teenagers who we will have to kick out of bed. 

As with winter, spring, summer and autumn, each parenting season we face, however quick or long-lasting, however joyful or frustrating, will transition into a new season. Our parenting winters will be greeted with the relief of parenting springs. And these seasons will last for as long as we are parents, at varying lengths and severity. Off and on for the past seven years, I've hit several seasons of struggling sleep. We're currently in a "Siblings Fighting All Day Long" season. We went through the picky-eating season, and I know someday we will go through a boy-crazy season. Let's not even talk about the "Watching Calliou" season. 

It's one I'd like to forget and never revisit. Like, ever.

Parenting seasons are inevitable, but take heart, parents: whatever season(s) you are in right now, there is an end in sight. There is a spring to your winter, a dawn to your night. Find hope in the struggles you are facing, and know that sooner than you think, things will get better, easier. You will find your new normal. You'll become wiser, stronger. You may even look back one day fondly on these seasons you once so struggled to be in.

And, above all, in every season, your heart will grow deeper and more passionate than you thought possible. 

Parents: 10 Reasons to Treat Yo'Self Tonight

It's been a long day. SO long. Irrationally long. After a historical battle that will most likely be taught in future high school classrooms, the kids are finally in bed. And you are eyeing up that pint of wickedly delicious ice cream in our freezer, or the perfectly lonely bottle (let's be honest, box) of Merlot on your counter, or the smooth surface of a jar of Nutella that has yet to be opened.

Your body says yes, but your SELF Magazine says NO. It's bathing suit season, after all. Don't throw it all away for a couple (hundred) empty calories!

Pffsh. Here are 10 reasons why you deserve to treat yourself to the extra calories of a "the kids are in bed" treat:

1) You made it until bedtime.

2) You made a dinner that no one liked.

3) Bathtime. Enough said.

4) You answered no less than 1,290 questions during bedtime.

5) You found blankie. 

6) You survived grocery shopping. WITH THE KIDS.

7) You folded an entire load of laundry only to have it toppled over by the kids.

8) You pinpointed the rotting smell in your car (an old sippy cup filled with milk).

9) You stepped on a LEGO with bare feet.

10) You had to endure an entire episode of Calliou.





So, go 'head, girl. 

Eat that chocolate.

Something I'll Never Say to My Girls

There are so many messages thrown at us each day. 

Buy this!
Avoid that!
This is sexy!
This is beauty!
This is healthy!
This is harmful!

From the commercials we watch, the ads we drive past, the magazines we read. If we sit back and really take it in, we realize we are truly bombarded. We are consumers. And every single thing we buy tells us something: about the way we eat, the way we sleep, the way we parent, the way we love, the way we live. Whether it's the ingredient list or the person pictured on the front, it is part of what forms our conscious (and subconscious) ideas, beliefs and perspectives about the world and about ourselves.

As a parent, I've come to simultaneously realize that we are bombarded with messages and that my daughters are sponges soaking up those messages. It's kind unnerving. If I innocently put on a TV show, the commercials between episodes tell my kids they need things.

Daughter: Mom! We have to buy a Stuf-It!
Me: A what?
Daughter: A Stuf-It!
Me: What's a Stuf-It?
Daughter: It's this stuffed animal thing that opens up and you stuff things inside it!
Me: First off, that's weird. Second, you've lived this long without a Stuf-It. I doubt that in the past 30 seconds it has become an actual need in your life.


It's not just commercials. It's the pictures of happy "healthy" kids they see plastered on sugary dye-filled fruit drinks. This message tells them that this drink makes you happy! And healthy! And not at all hyperactive! 

It's the radio ad (that I don't always have quick enough reflexes to turn off before it begins) about laser hair removal that will make you more beautiful. It's the ultra-thin models donning the outfits we are told to buy.It's the astoundingly short skirts marketed toward 6 year olds at Target.

But the loudest, most profound messages they hear most of all?

The ones coming straight from my mouth. 

I am so, so painfully aware that my little sponge girls pick up on everything I say. Whether it's the accidental curse word that flies after burning my hand on the stove or watching the kind of humor that makes me laugh - they note it. They start laughing at things that they've learned I consider funny. They say things like, "What the HECK?" after hearing one of our friends say it during a visit. 

Raising girls is tough in this world of messages. Boys too, for sure. And all these messages affect both genders alike. Being a girl myself, though, I know exactly how the messages we receive day in and day out affect females.  So while I can't catch everything that comes out of my mouth, there are certain things I refuse to ever allow to grace my tongue. I have vowed to never let my daughters hear me say:

Or any derivative sentiment: 

"I hate the way I look today."
"I need to go on a diet - look at me."
"I'll never look the way I did in college."
"Ug. I'm feeling ugly today."
"I can't eat this because I didn't go to the gym today."

I won't say these things. 

And friends, that isn't easy. 

Because, hello, I'm a woman. So you know I have my fair share of image issues. I struggle just like the rest of you with what I see in the mirror. I'm trying to change my own self-image, to embrace the beauty that is there in all of us. But I fail daily, and I am internally haunted by the thoughts that arise about how my jeans fit, how my hair is laying, and wondering why I can't get rid of the weird gross phantom hair that appears every few weeks on my cheek.

I wrestle with these thoughts and I'm working on processing them (and I'm becoming more victorious each day!), but I wrestle with them outside of earshot of my girls. Because I remember growing up and hearing the women in my life agonize over the person they saw in the mirror. I heard their disparaging remarks, the off-handed comments about their weight or looks, their defeat against self-worth.

And it affected me.

Everything is a learning process with children. They take the things they see and hear, and it helps them build and understanding of the world. As a child, when I heard those comments, it taught me to be critical of the way clothes fit, of the person I saw in the mirror. We all experienced comments like these as a kid, and whether we realize it or not, it was part of how we came to understand our own self-image. How we defined beauty and being healthy. This is the breeding ground of poor self-esteem, of eating disorders, and of a general distortion of what beauty and health truly are.

While it is hard sometimes, I speak only positively about myself in front of my girls. Because it won't be too long before they come up with the disparaging thoughts about themselves on their own. They'll hear their friends distress about their outfit or weight. They'll see some episode of a TV show where the girl struggles with anorexia. We censor curse words in front of our kids (or, ahem, try to), so shouldn't we watch how we express thoughts that could affect their self-esteem?

It's important that the main woman in my daughter's lives - ME -  is a role model. That when they hear me and see me, they see a woman who is working to think positively of herself, in the hopes that they'll learn to think positively about themselves too.  So it's all the more important for me to watch my words, because my girls, and all the young girls I know, need role models.

I let myself say out loud that I like my outfit today or the way my hair is falling. That I'm proud of myself tackling a new recipe. I eat my meals with them, so they see I eat healthy, well-rounded (and filling) meals. They watch me suit up for runs, so they know I enjoy being physically active. They hear me tell Hubby that I love him. 

And when I finally get dressed and ready for the day, I let them stand beside me in front of the mirror.  We assess ourselves, and I make sure to finish off my preparations with a smile. I want them to see me smiling at the person I see in the mirror. 

Each day, I'm embracing the beauty, worth and talent of the person in the mirror more and more. 

10 Meals to Bring to New Parents

In the past 3 months, I've been amidst a great baby boom. Not my own, of course (heaven help me!). But, rather, many of my friends have made the great transition to being parents. I love getting to visit these new first-time parents, snuggling new little babies (that I can give back when I am finished) and bringing these families a respite in the form of a meal.

When Chica was born, I didn't realize bringing new parents meals was a thing. I was among the first of my friends to have a baby, so I was new to the game. But all the people in my life who had gone on the Parenting Journey before me knew what was up and came prepared to hold a baby and provide me a meal. I loved it. I was so overwhelmed by embarking on this new life that I could barely remember my name let alone throwing together dinner. I appreciated that having meals on hand (in the fridge and the freezer) took one burden off of my shoulders so I could focus on my new little one.

Now that I'm several years into this parenting thing, I know the drill when my friends head to the hospital ready to give birth. I go to the grocery store, grab necessary ingredients, and prep a meal (or three) for them.

Some important things to consider when preparing a meal for a new family:

Make it Fridge AND Freezer Friendly

Sometimes new parents get (happily) inundated with meals. So it's helpful if the meals received can be thrown in a freezer. Otherwise, we leave the bewildered new parents with the task of scarfing 3 meals in the course of 24 hours. Making sure a meal is freezer-friendly allows for the option to eat immediately or freeze for later use.

Keep it Simple

This is especially important for moms who are breastfeeding. Many of us know the frustration of gobbling up a delicious meal only to find that it does not agree with your baby a few hours later. When preparing a meal for new moms, consider leaving out common gas-inducing foods, such as cruciferous vegetables (like broccoli), beans, garlic or overly spicy foods. Basic, simple recipes are often the safest bet for new moms and babies alike!

Check Ahead for Allergies or Aversions

There is nothing worse than giving a meal to someone only to find they cannot eat it!  Check with the family first to see if there are any food allergies to avoid (peanuts, milk, etc) or aversions that would keep them from enjoying your meal. Some moms are quickly put on elimination diets when breastfeeding to address feeding issues, so make sure they are still able to eat lactose (milk, cheese, etc).

Think Outside the Box

I also try to shake things up when bringing a meal. An easy go-to recipe for bringing a meal is baked ziti (my recipe is listed below!). WHICH I LOVE. But when everyone opts to bring it for you, you'll be eating ziti for days. Even an Italian girl like me has her limits! Thinking outside the box and looking for new and exciting freezer meals to bring can help break any meal monotony a new family may be experiencing.

Create a Schedule

If you are close enough with the new parents, offer to make a meal schedule for them. Websites like Take Them A Meal help you create an online calendar that people can sign up for. It even allows all the volunteers to see what others are bringing so there aren't any doubles. Create them a calendar then send it to their friends and family to sign up with!

Accounting for the above, here are 10 fantastic meals you can bring to a new family (also great for anyone who is dealing with illness or grief). All of these have been tested by me and/or my Freezer Meal Club:

Pepper Steak | Six Cents

Baked Ziti | Confessions of a Stay-at-Home Mom

Pizza Casserole | How I Pinch a Penny

Homemade Chicken Soup with Dumplings | Pandora's Deals

Cheeseburger Casserole | Skinnytaste

Sweet & Savory Apple Pie Pork Chops | Confessions of a SAHM

Lasagna Roll Ups | Cooking Classy

Chicken Parmesan Casserole | Thriving Home

Crockpot Brown Sugar Balsamic Glazed Pork | Laura's Sweet Spot

Slow Cooker Beef and Barley Stew | Happy Money Saver




I'd love to hear what your favorite meals are to bring to new parents! Leave a comment and tell me all about it!

(And a special thanks for all of the bloggers for permission to use their fantastic links!)

Choosing Your Battles: Clothes

Many of my days start with an obstinate, "NO."

Part of making the transition from baby to toddler, then to preschooler and school-aged child, is learning to be independent. If not for independence, we'd still be living at home, letting our parents dress us, feed us and bathe us.

Awkward picture, right?

So I know there is this mantra we're all encouraged as parents when we hit those walls of kiddie independence:

Choose Your Battles.

It is important. Because if we choose to fight every battle, we'd spend all day butting heads. We'd lose credibility with our children, and they would have no way of learning this important lesson of independence. 

And let's be honest: not every battle is worth fighting. She wants waffles instead of cereal for breakfast? Go for it. He wants to wear 2 year old pajamas that don't fit him to bed? Sure. She wants to wear flip flops on a cold day? Hey, they're your feet, sister.

I truly believe in choosing our battles wisely. And that sometimes, when we find ourselves constanly clashing with our kids, it's really over the fact that we just want to get our own way. Kind of like our kids, no? 

Now, do I always choose wisely? Nope. Not even 75% of the time. I'm aware of the need to pick my battles, but there is still a part of me that fights foolishly over some things that are definitely not worth it. 

Sometimes, though, I struggle over when to step in. When there is a grey area of whether or not it's about letting them be independent or it's a parent watching out for their child's own good. I find this happen a lot over the battle of clothes.

I try really hard to let their little personalities shine, and to allow my girls to wear what they'd like. Within reason. So outfits need to be age appropriate (no bellies showing, girlfriend) and season appropriate (you realize it's snowing, right? So why are you wearing a tank top and shorts?). I don't care much about fashion or if my girls are stylish. Because heaven knows I was not growing up.

Case in point: Bug's outfit from today.

Good gravy. This girl.

She is almost 4, and can still pull off the "Punky Brewster Funky Mismatched" cute look. What do I do, though, when they pick an outfit out and internally I cringe? Especially Chica, who is now in elementary school. Despite my internal struggle,  most days I allow them to go for it. But sometimes I worry about allowing them to wear such a strange outfit that they could potentially be picked on by others or ostracized by their friends.


So where is the line? If you are concerned about the backlash an outfit may have amongst their peers (especially when your child is so unaware), do you step in an encourage them to pick another outfit? Or do you work on building a solid sense of self, boosting their confidence, and sending the message that individuality is great and to own their sense of style?

I'd love your feedback on how YOU handle the Clothing Battles at your house.

Leave a comment and join the discussion.

Fear of Failure

My first job out of college was as a caseworker for my county's Children, Youth and Family services. Yes, the people who investigate abused kids and yank kids from unsafe home situations. They also do amazing things like coordinate adoptions and foster families as well as provide respite and other services to people in the community. I was on a less-intense unit that provided services to teenagers who had home issues but were also on probation. Working with me was a part of their probation contract.

It was hard work, and at first I really enjoyed it. But over time, it became tiring. The paperwork, reports and court appearances piled up. And I felt that even after a few years, I was struggling to really find a groove. After the 3 year point, I started dreading work and I became disheartened when past clients came back on my roster.

What good was I really doing? And what was wrong with me that I couldn't be more successful in my work?

I left this job for a brief stint with a faith-based non-profit whose focus was high school kids. I had worked with this organization as a volunteer for several years, and it had been my dream to go on staff with them. I was assigned to a difficult position in a fledgling area with structural and economic issues. In some ways, I felt set up to fail. But shortly after taking up the assignment and moving, I found out I was (unexpectedly) pregnant with Chica. And in this area plagued with difficulties, it was an uphill battle. I was constantly frustrated that I wasn't excelling at this job, a job I had dreamed of working for half of my life.

When Chica was born, Hubby and I were on the same page that I'd stay home with her. I grew up with a SAHM mom, and I guess I'd always assumed that is what I would do when I had kids. Yet, I was not prepared for the lifestyle. To outsiders, the stay-at-home life seems luxurious: lazing around the house with your sweet babe, tackling household tasks with the greatest of ease.

If only this were the case.

I was rudely awakened, when after 3 days home with Hubby he went back to work and I was facing my days (and a new baby) alone. Alone is a word that would best describe my first few months as a new mom. I was bewildered by this wiggling, crying, pooping charge that had been left in my care. I had no idea how to juggle the baby's needs with the daily tasks of cleaning, laundering and getting meals made. Hygiene went out the window. For the life of me, I could not get a handle on taking care of myself as well as taking care of my house and another human. At the time, there were few people I knew who were home with kids, so I just felt lost.

Once again, I felt like I was working at a job I was not cut out for.

Yet, this was my new life.

It took several months to make the transition from "working" to "stay-at-home." And it was a dark road. I eventually eased into my role as Momma, and even went on to have baby #2 a few years later. The truth of the matter is that every mother, whether she is open about it or not, struggles. Some struggle more than others, some hide it better. But we all struggle: with the ups and downs, with the needs, with the responsibility. And, above all, the notion that you were in the process of royally screwing up your children.

About a year after having Bug, I started taking on small chunks of part-time work. Most of the work stemmed from my blogging, leading to freelance writing gigs and social media management opportunities. Over the years, in direct correlation to my kids getting bigger and going to school, I've taken on more and more work. And I now find myself in the position of a new kind of job: Work-at-Home Mom.  We are strange creatures, WAHM's. 90% of my work is at home, with 10% taking me to various meetings or events. (I'll cover the complexities and struggles of being a WAHM in an upcoming post.)

And it is in a job field I feel like I do well in, which makes for happy working.

Sort of.

In taking on this work, which has reached a level of fulltimeness (a phrase I just coined here and now), I feel the familiar strings of ineptness being pulled. I find myself worrying about my performance, if my clients are happy, or if I am in jeopardy of losing work. Being an independent contractor is wrought with uncertainty and instability. My workload changes from month to month. Some months, I am happily overwhelmed, while others I am looking for new work opportunities. And in this, I hear the voices whispering that I am unqualified, ineffectual and temporary. 

So for a while, now, I have struggled with the notion that something is wrong with me. That perhaps I am not really good at anything, that I am not cut out for work. I ruminate on this often. But I was recently struck by a thought that has changed my perspective. 

Yesterday, I was running with two friends, and we were talking about parenting stuff. My one friend was reminiscing on the early months of being a new mom, and how she wished she could go back to live it out differently, now that she knows more. She remarked, "I was just so worried all the time. I was so afraid I would mess up."

And a light bulb clicked for me.

I've spent the better part of my life being afraid of messing up. I live in a constant fear of failure. At my first job, I couldn't just except that I was working in a position that was not a good fit for me. Or that at my second job, the circumstances of the area where I was working were outside of my control. The only option in my mind was that there was something innate to my being that was messing up. I assumed something was wrong with me. I only felt this driven home when I took on the role of being mommy. I spent so much time worrying, so afraid I would mess up yet another "job," and this one being a person! I couldn't embrace that all jobs come with difficulties. I couldn't believe that everyone struggled. Rather, I wallowed in what I felt was my unique ineptitude.

I fear failure because I believe that failing means I am flawed, ineffective, broken and incapable. 

But this isn't true. We all struggle in our various roles in life. We all doubt ourselves or get anxious about our job performance. Most people can embrace that they are not suited for some roles are, or accept that all jobs come with difficulty that just needs to be faced. I, instead, believe the lie that if something isn't working, if something is hard, it's my fault. Which leads to me being very hard on myself (and a heaping load of anxiety to boot). This kind of thinking can easily sink a person.

The truth is: No one is suited for all things. I'm not suited to be a chemistry teacher or a financial advisor or an artist. I'm not skilled in those ways, just as people in those roles may not be suited for writing or social media. Some mothers feel they are at their best when they can stay home with their kids. Others need the professional outlet of working to feel balance in their life. 

I'm learning that it's okay to mess up sometimes, that mistakes won't sink me. I won't always parent perfectly. I will make plenty of grammatical errors in my writing. I will have to face clients who are, for whatever reason, dissatisfied with my performance at times. These are opportunities to learn and grow. 

I'll end with a quote from Book 1 of Game of Thrones (sorry for this temporary geek-out), which struck me deeply as I've been processing these things. Tyrion Lannister is speaking to Jon Snow, and they are reflecting on their various flaws, as society would see it. Tyrion says to Jon,

"Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you."

I could let my fear of failure completely overcome me. I would be sunk. It could completely paralyze me if I let it. Instead, I can turn this flaw into a strength: to be better, to learn from my mistakes, to have grace with others, to empathize, to grow. 

Friends? 

Whether you are a stay-at-home parent struggling in the role of mommy (or daddy) or doubting yourself in your role at work, embrace this truth: there is no such thing as failure. There is only the opportunity to learn and grow. Let mistakes make your stronger. Let difficulties give you a tender heart to others who struggle.

There is no option to fail. 

Only to grow.

Things I Want To Say To You On The First Day of First Grade

We sit at the table as you quietly eat your breakfast. Your sister is still asleep, giving us these special moments of calm. You woke up early, anxious about life: new bus, new school, new class, new friends. The butterflies got the best of you, disrupting your sweet dreams. So before tip-toeing down to breakfast, we laid side by side in silence, our presence each other's comfort. 

What are the right words to say to calm your precious heart?

Downstairs in the kitchen, you chew thoughtfully on a muffin as I work on a bowl of cereal. We talk about your new book bag, we pack your lunch, and you put on your shoes. The butterflies have flittered away, leaving in their place a sense of excitement and adventure. For this I am grateful. Yet, I know so much is happening in your mind. As your mom, there are so many things I could say, things I should say.

But where to begin?

It's okay to be afraid.

It's okay to be excited.

You are awesome. And wonderful. Just be yourself, and it will be impossible for people not to love you.

There will be people who won't love you. Heck, there will be people who don't even remotely like you. And that's okay. Different strokes for different folks, love.

The best way to make friends is to be a friend. 

I know you are shy, and the thought of taking the initiative to introduce yourself is a daunting task. But do it. Because for every ounce of fear you have about talking to someone new, there is someone standing right next to you feeling the same way. Some people are just waiting to be talked to and noticed.

Your teacher cares about you. 

It's okay to mess up. 

I think about you all day - and there is not a moment of your day that I'm not wondering what wonderful things you are doing at school.

Be the kind of friend you want others to be to you.

Everyone fits in somewhere. 

Don't be afraid to try - even if you fail. 

Wash your hands.

Raise your hand to answer questions - even if it turns out your wrong. That's part of learning.

One of the dearest friends I have today I met in first grade. 

There may come a point where another kid is mean to you. And while that's not okay, you don't have to let it define you. Deep down, the people who hurt others are hurting. Those are the people who are still learning how to love and need our love the most.

School libraries are better than book stores.

There will be parts of the school day you love. There will be other parts you struggle with. But you have to face them all the same. Some day you'll understand the importance of a well-rounded education.

Embrace art class and music class.

You don't have to be good at everything. But you do have to give everything all you've got. 

These are the days you'll remember fondly when you are a grown up. Cherish them.

She scoops her arms through the straps of her backpack, and with little sister in tow we head to the bus stop. The smile doesn't leave your face, and my heart bursts with so many words, thoughts and feelings I want to share. But time is not my friend, and the bus rounds the corner.

I kneel down and pull you close. 

"You'll be great. Have fun. I love you."

And with a quick kiss on the cheek, you're on the bus before I can wave good-bye.

Dream big, love.