Vignettes of a Christmas past

 Finn peering up the chimney to see if Santa would really fit. The whiskey was for the reindeer until Daddy corrected him.

 Father Christmas heard Finn's request loud and clear: all I want for Christmas is a sit-on digger! Poppie wanted a doll with a stroller, but she just didn't know it until she received it. She absolutely freaks if Finn takes her baby or tries to push the stroller. Strong maternal instincts, this girl has.

 An overflowing Christmas tree. It was the first Christmas that all of us children, grandchildren and partners were under one roof. We had a blast and no one wanted the fun to end.

 Simple setting for Christmas morning brunch.

 Homemade Christmas crackers, one of the many traditions adopted and integrated from the UK (Christmas pudding, Father Christmas instead of Santa Claus, among several). They didn't pop off very well, but we had a lot of fun with the stick-on mustaches and the ridiculous jokes.

 Uncle Molly and Uncle Ben. We're engaged! This will be our last Christmas before we are husband and wife!

Uncle Nick and Auntie Casi. We're engaged too! 'Tis a season of love.

 I'm Papa. Merry Christmas.

 Nick and I used a highly coveted nanny-day to go snowboarding with Nick and Casi on Thursday. It was our first time snowboarding together and an absolute blast. We felt like teenagers and can't wait to do it again.

The children have been absolute angels, which was unexpected given the spoiling of the holidays. They are kind to each other and thoughtful to the adults in their life and have been super well-behaved in general. Christmas can come anytime to our house if this is the result!

The psychic in our lives

Do you believe in psychics? Tarot card readers, palm-readers, the divination arts? I feel like Nick and I are pretty firmly planted-on-the-earth type of people. We both have graduate degrees in hard science, for heavens sake, and Nick can spout Hitchens and Dawkins like he thought of it himself, but still, we have a psychic that we consult regularly. And trust. Sometimes so much so that our decision-making is altered to reflect the intuition of our diviner.

As I mentioned above, Nick has atheist tendencies and when we first met, he had been through several years of very formal scientific education, and needless to say, had a very well-toned left brain (ironic for a very successful creative, one might think, but maybe that is why he is such a good photographer?) In the early months of our relationship, he laughed at my monthly horoscope indulgence, and chuckled inwardly about my previous visits to my beloved tarot-card reader.

And then one month, because we are the same star sign, I shared a horoscope with him. Some elements of it had rung true to me, but was clearly directed to Nick, even suggesting that now would be a good time to apply for a greencard (we were) as it would prove successful (it was). He began following Susan Miller too.

Two years later, we are living in Seattle and I casually mention that I had an appointment to see my favorite tarot card reader and there was an appointment available after mine. Would he like to come? He hmme-d and haw-ed and told me many stories about his previous experience with a gypsy card reader in a trailer in the Cotswolds, whose 'predictions' were only as good as his willingness to share pertinent information. But in the end, he came.

And if ever there was a diviner's version of a love match (only replace the love bit with clairvoyance) it was between Nick and our tarot card reader. She got him to the T and would stop periodically in the reading to share visions she was getting of his career. He was rapt. And has visited her at least annually ever since. Her advice has helped him make critical decisions and so far, the majority of them have been spot-on.

Here's why I think it works: divination of any kind, is a direct mirror of your own inner-intuition. A diviner can give a clear voice to that little idea worrying inside of you, telling you which path is right. What to be concerned about and what to let go of. Sometimes the cerebral chatter overwhelms the softer tones of the intuitive we all have inside of us, and for us, visits to our tarot card reader gives clarity to that quieter, truer voice of our intuition.

Have you ever been to a tarot card reader? A palm reader? A psychic? Would you ever try it if not?

Poppie, lately

Poppie is a stunningly, magnetically, adorable child. I continue to get stopped in the street, on buses, at the grocery store, just about everywhere, by people who need to tell me how cute she is. She has that amazing combination of good looks (big blue eyes and dark hair? what the what? how did she get so lucky?) and adorably generous personality that is an absolute magnet for all mankind (and believe me, I have had a representative from all mankinds stop me, so I know this to be true).

But inside that adorable little girl façade, she is a real little spitfire. Her brother is her world and she spins on his axis. She mimics everything he does and is absolutely beside herself when he is upset about something (she will even go as far as to hit me if I am culpable for his sadness, little stinker). If Finn loves somebody, she loves them. If Finn loves something, she loves it. She is equal parts snuggly-lovey and rough-and-tumble.

Poppie was awake when we got home from our date night last night. With lots of energy for dancing.

She loves these cars because Finn loves them, of course.

Daddy and Papa are her main men and she has them both hopelessly wrapped around her little finger. Mama and Nana are critical to her survival, she knows, but when she wants something, she goes straight to Daddy or Papa, neither of whom can refuse her. Even Uncle David became a Poppie-captive when he was here. 

She has Finn’s athleticism, but her verbal skills are behind his at this age. I think it is because Finn often translates for her and she has a very handy pointer finger, that when combined with a loud screech, gets a lot done. She understands everything we say, though, and is very proud of herself when she notices that we are getting ready to leave and brings me her shoes and jacket to put on without me asking.

Poppie’s one challenge is life is separation anxiety and I can’t take her to the gym or leave her with strangers. Ever. Which is odd, because she loves strangers! If I want her to stop protesting in a public situation, all I have to whisper is ‘Poppie, look, someone wants to say hi to you’ and she stops her tantrum and immediately smiles and tries to find that someone. But for now, we stick with the usual suspects of babysitters and hope she grows out of it soon. Santa would not make a good babysitter, she thinks.

Finn, lately

A couple of weeks ago, I had a challenging parent-teacher conference at Finn’s preschool. The teachers were feeling that maybe he wasn’t developmentally ready for preschool as he had trouble sitting quietly and concentrating on one thing at a time (big surprise), amongst a few other classroom behaviors that made teaching challenging. When they were describing his behavior, I realized I was seeing much of it at home too. And I didn’t think it had to do with not being ready for school (which he loves), and more to do with what was happening at home. (For the record, I am open to the possibility that he is not ready, however, we agreed at the meeting to implement some changes in the classroom and at home and reevaluate after few weeks).

After some tears and feeling like a failure as a mother, I immediately reflected on the past month of Thanksgiving week, the bathroom remodel and Nick being gone. I realized I was less in mommy-mode than I had been prior to these events. The kids were getting less of my undivided attention and there were definitely times (OK, actually a whole week if we're talking the bathroom remodel) when I wish they were someplace other than with me. What was I thinking? That the kids wouldn't sense I was feeling that way? Ha.

I have been working very, very hard the past couple of weeks to make Finn feel heard, understood and loved. Despite the fact that some days feel like they are going to go on forever and ever, I am really trying to make our days kid-centric and fun, for me and them. Each day has a healthy dose of the outdoors, a physical activity, at least 10 books, some one-on-one time with each child independently, healthy meals, NO TV (!) and lots of bending down and listening.

I told Finn he couldn’t have something the other morning and he yelled and screamed and told me ‘I am never going to sleep with you again!’ We are co-sleeping at the moment, and my first thought was ‘Thank God!’, followed by the nice-mommy reaction of ‘oh darling, that makes me feel sad when you say that. But that’s OK, if you don’t want to sleep with me anymore, I understand.’ And I sat down on the couch with a neutral expression.

Two seconds later, he approached me with a hug and a kiss and said, ‘I’m sorry mommy, sometimes I get really angry and it’s hard to be nice. I am sorry for saying that. I love you.’ Which is leaps and bounds and bounds and leaps from where we were a few weeks ago. He is naming his emotions, he is recognizing his feelings and he is eager to make amends. It goes without saying that the teachers have noticed a huge improvement since our meeting as well.

I know it sounds crazy, but of all the changes I have made at home, my intuition tells me that it is the elimination of TV that has helped the most.  I was using TV shows as a crutch to help me ‘babysit’ when things got hectic and I needed to get things done. But the cost is too high. Since the elimination of TV, both the children have become much more capable of entertaining themselves for longer stretches of time. Finn goes to sleep easier, there is more imaginative play during the day, and he is a more gentle child to me and his sister. And, just to test the waters, I asked him if he wanted to watch Sesame Street while I made dinner. No mom, he said, I want to play with those blocks (hidden high on a shelf because they roll everywhere). Could you please get them down for me? I will play while you make dinner.

I guess my mom was on to something when she wrote 101 Alternatives to Television 20 years ago.

Alternatives

 Today was one of those days when I felt sorry for myself at least a dozen times. Which is really unlike me as I think that self-pity is a rather unattractive emotion. My motto is 'what are the alternatives?' which even in the worst state of mind, one could always think of an alternative that is not nearly as attractive as your current circumstance.

I had one of those poor parenting blunders last night where I was trying so hard to get Finn to think of (and fall a-) sleep that I actually fell asleep myself at 7pm. And awoke with a start at 9pm, a perfect length for a nap. Needless to say, I couldn't get back to sleep, but was too tired to do anything productive, so I not only wasted an evening, but the children woke up extra early this morning, allowing me a healthy 3.5 hours of sleep last night.

I dragged all day long and missed Nick (but then thought of the alternatives, and what could he even do if he were home? Drop work and tuck me into a 2-hour nap in the afternoon? Probably not. Onwards, soldier.) So I went about the day pretending I wasn't going to drop from exhaustion and fooling very few, including my children.

Look mommy, I made you a cozy nest! Finn exclaimed from his hideaway built by play mats at the local gym where I workout and who also have a huge play gym for kids during the middle of the day. Poppie came running and bowled me over into a big laying-down hug and stayed there. They knew.

And if that weren't enough, Poppie wandered to her room straight after her bath and tried to scramble into her crib by herself at 6 pm. I haven't heard a peep since. And sweet little Finn brought exactly the allowed three books to be read (the norm is a battle between 5 and 10 books with lots of hmm-ing and haw-ing about which ones to eliminate) and fell asleep gracefully at 6:30.

I felt sorry for myself today, but there are no alternatives that I would even consider.

Christmas Babies

Poppie and Finn donned their new Christmas pajamas in celebration of a Christmas tree well-decorated (on the bottom third, at least) and an evening dancing to really loud Christmas music.

Happy babies ready for Father Christmas/Santa Claus!

Story from the trenches: how to be cool when it's not

Yesterday afternoon, I took the children on a light rail ride to the city center so we could ride the merry-go-round that is up for the holiday season. Finn was thrilled, even more so by the fact that he had done it with Daddy a week ago and knew exactly which horse he wanted to ride and which one Poppie was going to ride.

All went smoothly, until we got on the train to go home, a commuter train with two seats available. Finn starting complaining about Poppie taking up too much of the seat, but really he was protesting her interaction with the kindly grandmother type sitting in the seat behind us. When Finn starting mimicking Poppie’s endearing baby babble, I tried to distract him into a more age-appropriate conversation by talking about everything we were seeing outside.

Suddenly, he grabs my hand and says ‘what’s this?’ to my recently repaired wedding ring that I haven’t worn in over a year and a half. 

‘Whose is that?’ he says loudly, ‘did you get it from that lady behind us? Did you? Why? Mom, you need to give it back to her, it’s not yours,’ he says rapidly in his best adult-telling-a-naughty-child-what-to-do voice. I can't get a word in edgewise.

I tried to convince him that it was mine, but the ball was rolling and his voice was increasing in urgency and volume. He didn’t like the ring on me, it really belonged to the lady behind us, I had to give it back, taking things from people is not nice.

And then, when his voice was at its loudest and his frustration the greatest, he proclaims he has to pee. NOW. And starts hopping from leg to leg whimpering. Loudly. The train is stopped in a tunnel. The commuters are silent. All you can hear is a little boy screaming about not wanting to wet his pants.

We ran off the train at the next stop, but the platforms don’t have toilets and I knew we wouldn’t make it very far, so I plopped Poppie on a bench and knelt down in front of Finn holding a Poppie-diaper in place. At first he threw a fit at having to even touch a Poppie-sized diaper (or a diaper in general), but it was our only choice and he knew it.

Meanwhile, the train hasn’t left the station and all the doors are open, providing an audience of commuters to our little emergency. I feel three hundred eyes on me and turn to see Poppie waving and smiling happily at them all from her perch on the bench. I smile sheepishly, but then put on my 'I am so in control of this situation' mommy face and sit Finn down on my lap to roll up his wet pants (he was right, the Poppie diaper didn't work very well).

I knew Finn needed some transition time after the incident and those people on the train had already been subjected to a lot, so we sat on the bench waiting for that train to leave. And we waited. And waited. And waited. For five more minutes. Which is a really, really, really long time to maintain my mommy-in-control-face, but good practice. Especially for a diamond ring-stealing, terrible mother who doesn't remind her son to use the bathroom when he had the chance.