High Five {Mindful Mothering Mondays}

Moose loves to mow the lawn.  Not for real, of course, but I think he thinks it is for real.  He informs me, very seriously, most mornings that he needs to mow the lawn and, despite the mid-40s mornings we've been having, dons his rain boots and jacket and gets down to business.

Each "mowing" session lasts 15 minutes at most.  He returns, pink cheeked and excited to show me his work: when the dew is still on the grass, the lines he's made with his toy lawn mower are visible. 

"Mom, look what I did!"

I dutifully ooh and aah from several angles (from the window where the above photo was taken; from the patio door).

"Mommy, high five!" It's not really a question.  I happily oblige.

If I had to guess, Moose's love language is words of affirmation.  There are lots of high fives in our house: after cleaning up toys, after successfully using the potty, after helping burp his sister.  He asks for (demands) them and, when he doesn't, I offer them. 

And I am learning that by prefacing a request not just with please, but by telling what a good job he did at that request previously, Moose and I butt heads (or antlers) much less frequently.  He's still a toddler (or does it make him a preschooler since he's about to turn three?), and a boy, so I still get plenty of "no"s.  But when it works, the little extra time it takes to ask him in his "language" is small compared to the effort involved in otherwise doing battle.

The bonus is that I've been getting a lot of "good job, Mom"s from him.  Which makes my heart smile, because my love language is words of affirmation, too.

Looking to be uplifted on a Monday? Hop over to Lyida's for more Mindful Mothering Monday stories:

Anchor {Mindful Mothering Mondays}

In case you can't tell from my absence from this space, I'm having a bit of trouble finding my "new norm" since Mouse joined our house.

I returned to work two weeks ago, and while it's just three days a week in the office, because it is my own law practice, I can't entirely check it at the door when I leave to come home.  And invariably, when I walk in the door at 6pm with both kiddos in tow, Mouse wants to eat (regardless of when her last bottle was), Moose wants a snack and to go outside, Daddy M is either just walking in or came home early and is out for a run, and then there's the matter of dinner.

I'm not complaining.  Just stating the challenge.  The beauty this time around is that I know I will find a new rhythm.  I've been on a healthy slow cooker recipe bender.  I've learned to feed Mouse one-handed while I feed myself one-handed.  Some other stuff hasn't come together yet (like regular exercise; or regular knitting), but it will get there.

The one thing I have managed to maintain is a "special game" for Moose on the days we are home together.  The "special game" is the devolution of my attempts at Tot School.  Try as I might, even before Mouse, I couldn't seem to keep up with all I wanted to do with Moose on a weekly basis to compliment what he gets at preschool.  However, along the way, I learned that he loves sensory play and I've managed to keep a cache of sensory play ideas in my brain (and Pinterest) to pull out on the days we stay at home together.

And these "special games" - something he looks forward to - have been an anchor for me as I otherwise seem to drift and bob about.

Sometimes they're impromptu and non-themed (shaving cream, transferring ice cubes between large measuring cups).  Other times, when I've struck lucky at the dollar bins at Target (or similar), I manage to put together a theme (like the autumn one, above).

Whatever the specifics, they all seem to be a hit.

Which means that, wherever else the day goes, I can count at least one success.  And right now that's enough to keep me going - ironically anchored and, therefore, able to sail on to finding a new norm.

Linking up with Lydia for some mothering inspiration to start the week.

Cheap Date {Mindful Mothering Mondays}

I always have really lofty plans for enriching activities for Moose - especially so when it comes to sensory bin activities.  And, in most cases, my intentions are far grander than my delivery.  I've scoured Hobby Lobby and sourced at Michaels.  Some of my bins have come to fruition, others are still pipe dreams. 

Particularly lately, with Mouse in the house, too, I haven't found the energy to put a whole lot together.  And between the great outdoors, a growing car and block collection (thanks to friends who have brought little goodies for him when they came to meet his sister), and Mouse to dote on, he certainly hasn't starved for things to do.
But when we woke up last Monday, it was raining, and he had a friend coming over to play.  What to do?

I can't even tell you what inspired me, but I grabbed two clean food storage containers and into each put some rice ($1.27 at the grocery store) in each, some truck erasers ($1 bin from Target), and some puff balls leftover from the Tot Tin project ($1 at the dollar store).  I gave each bin a spoon saved from a froyo treat and a small drinking cup.  Each easily cost $5 or less.

Which means, in bang for buck terms, it was a HUGE success!

The boys scooped with spoons:

 

They scooped with hands:

They filled the cups (and dumped them out again):

And when the rice inevitably got dumped out on the trays, we got out some front-loaders and dump trucks, and they boys really got to work!

And when they were finished, they argued over who would sweep the floor for me:

All told, the $5 bins bought us about an hour of fun (stopped only because it was seriously lunch and nap time!).

Really, I shouldn't be surprised.  Just last week, I marveled that our ordinary is their extraordinary.  And I think we all have a story to tell about an expensive toy spurned in favor of a simple, free or inexpensive find. 

I would do well to remember that despite the glitz and excitement of the toys on the market today, my little ones are, really, a cheap date, and I should KISS (keep it simple, silly).

Linking up with Lydia and her inspiring friends.

Field Trip {Mindful Mothering Mondays}

Do you remember school field trips?

I do.  Not all of them, but more than a couple.  The Museum of Tolerance.  Camping trip to see Halley's Comet.  Historic reenactment at the Stagecoach Inn.  Many seemed so life-changing and eye-opening at the time, and while some still do (I probably won't see the Comet again in my lifetime) others have been dimmed by the passage of time, and age, and newer or repeated experiences.  But, at the time, they were new and novel - they expanded my horizons.

In the name of intentional mothering, we talk frequently about being purposeful with our kids and planning activities with their development in mind.  But, even so, I lose sight of the fact that what is mundane for me expands my kids' horizons.

Last week I was brave and ran errands with both Moose and Mouse for the first time.  I wasn't overly ambitious: Whole Foods for gripe water and PetSmart for cat food.  But what started as simple became a fantastic field trip for Moose!

Once inside Whole Foods (because, really, who has ever come out of that store with just the one thing they came for?) we found ourselves at the cheese counter.  The friendly cheesemonger offered me a sample of five-year aged Gouda (yum!).

"I want some," Moose declared, and (after extorting a "please") I broke off a piece of mine to share.

"I like that!"

And the tickled cheesemonger hands Moose a small container with about a dozen small pieces of the older-than-my-kid Gouda.

Without pressuring, the cheesemonger then offers a balsamic-infused cheese, and another that is made from a blend of cow, goat, and sheep's milk.  Except now he hands two pieces to me for every taste - one for me and one for Moose.

Moose offers an enthusiastic and unsolicited "thank you" to each.

We end with a two-year Gouda, which Moose declares he doesn't care for as much as the five-year.   The cheesemonger smiles and as soon as we walk away, Moose asks if we can "do it again sometime?".

Next stop is the pet store and before I can even steer the cart toward the cat food, Moose spots the cats available to rescue.  Followed by the fish and the finches.  He recognizes each and moves on quickly.

Until we get to the small mammals.

"Mommy, what's that?"

It's a rat, who obligingly stops bathing and comes right up to the glass to give Moose the once-over.  I explain that it's sort of like a mouse (which he knows from books), and that they're actually very smart and make good pets.  Moose converses with the rat for a good five minutes before we actually make it to the cat food aisle.  We find ourselves returning again on the way to the register.  

Other than the tantrum that ensued when we finally left, I came away with a warm, fuzzy feeling that, without really meaning to do anything other than brave some errands with both kids in tow, I gave Moose a fantastic field trip.  Some day in the not-so-distant future, grocery runs and pet food stops will be mundane for him, but this time it was new and extraordinary.  He expanded his palate and discovered a new animal friend.

And I am beyond pleased that I recognized it as it was happening and slowed down to let him soak in the novelty and expand his horizons.

If you are looking for a Monday pick-me-up, please join me over at Lydia's place for wonderful encouragement in the spirit of the sisterhood of mothering!

Simple, Sleepy Gratitude {Mindful Mothering Mondays}

How to find a poignant start for a post when I'm so sleep-deprived that I can hardly put two thoughts together?

In following the lead of our Mindful Mothering Monday hostess, Lydia, I am "offering up gratitude for this life, this labor of love, this moment in time":

• For our new addition;
• For a sweet Moose who is absolutely enamored with his baby sister, despite the fact that she took us away from him for nearly a week and has been behind more than a few "wait just a minute, Honey" moments since we returned home last Thursday;
• For a little technological distraction for our sweet, patient Moose

 

• For friends and family who have brought us enough food so that I don't have to think about cooking until next week;
• For the extra day to the weekend and an extra day for Daddy Moose to be home with us before work beckons;
• And for coffee - which I'm going to go make now.

With thanks, always, to Lydia for hosting an inspirational start to the week!

Roll With It {Mindful Mothering Mondays}

It's been an "off" couple of weeks in our house.  First, Moose came home from school with a random fever (that, thankfully, never became more).  Just as we were fully recovered, I got bitten by a brown recluse spider (that, thankfully, never necrotized).  Add to that a big change in a friend's schedule (with temporary loss of weekly playdate) and the end of gymnastics, and our routine is really off.

I am so Type A (I think the hubby has used "rigid" more than once in our ten years of marriage . . ).  I openly admit that I don't do great with disruptions to the Force.  And here I am, mothering a very spirited child who thrives on predictability!

But, as Lydia put it so poignantly in her Mindful Mothering Monday post last week:

The way that I approach my life is a lesson plan for my children in how to live.  What am I really telling my children?

I want Moose to be more adaptable than his mommy.

I want him to move from "uh-oh" to "it's ok" to "what next?" much faster than I do!

And it's not just enough to give him the words.  Kids, I am learning, are like animals - they smell fear and the feel the disconnect between our words and our actions.  I need to believe it, too!

The photo in this post looks like nothing more than a kiddo playing with some dirt, rocks and a truck at the park, but it are so much more.  It is a testament to an exercise in rolling with it.  I took this photo of Moose playing shortly after my spider bite (reeling from dizziness, I got us from the grocery store, where it happened, to the park; I was waiting for my symptoms to subside so we could get the rest of the way home).

The random car is not ours. ("Honey, don't touch that, we don't know who it belongs to."  "Ok, you can play with that, but we'll need to leave it here in case the friend who lost it comes back to look for it.")

But the random car is a metaphor for how I am trying to change the way I look at breaks in routine and spontaneity - as opportunities to explore and play and try something new or different.  We may need some hand sanitizer later, but it's not the end of the world.

Once again, so thankful to Lydia for hosting this weekly round-up of encouragement for moms!

Letting Him Fall {Mindful Mothering Mondays}

It started in January, when we offered to buy him a tricycle.

No.  Moose was unequivocal.  He didn't want a tricycle.  He wanted a bicycle.  Like Daddy.

So the Handy Manny bike and Cars helmet found a place in our garage, and Moose set himself to the task of learning to ride - some days with more patience than others.

Then the day came that everything clicked and he "got" it.  And he took off.

The trouble is that he hasn't quite figured out the brakes yet.  He has figured out that he can't pedal backward (like on the tricycle at daycare).  But he hasn't figured out that the obnoxious jolting when he tries to to drive backward is how he is supposed to stop.

Instead, he takes a last-minute turn.  Drives up onto the grass.  Pulls his feet off the pedals altogether.

And each and every time I cringe.  I position myself to grab the handlebar if the bike starts to teeter.  And show him how the brakes work.  Again.  And encourage him try.  Again.

Except today.  I let him fall.

I saw it coming and I let it happen.  He was going slowly.  I knew he wouldn't fall hard.  But in a split second, I decided that he needed to see what would happen when Mommy didn't swoop in at the last second.

There wasn't even a scrape on the skin.  But the look of surprise on his face said it all.  And the next go 'round (yes, he got up and, after some hugs, declared that he wanted to try again), he actually looked at me when I explained the brakes.  He pensively tried them out on a flat part of the cul-de-sac. 

It's such a fine line, isn't it?  We don't want them to be truly injured.  We don't want them to have such a bad experience that they don't want to try again.  But sometimes, I think we need to let them fall so they can figure out for themselves how to make it - all of it, all of life - work for them.

So pleased to be linking up with Lydia again!  Please hop over for more Monday mothering encouragement.

Independence {Mindful Mothering Mondays}

So many of the blogs and books I read focus on being mindful with our children.  Enjoying the good moments and the crazy ones, too, for the gifts that they are.  Being present, rather than just being in the room with our little ones.

Today, though, I'm working through the realization that I may have been giving Moose too much mindfulness.  In case you missed it, he last few weeks together have been tough.  Really tough. 

I can't chop vegetables for dinner without screaming at my feet or destructive behavior in the adjacent room (which, the snide smile on Moose's face suggests, is designed solely to get my attention).  I've even been bitten on the rear!  I'm more behind than usual with some of my household tasks because every towel I fold gets unfolded; the window gets intentionally smeared the second I finish wiping it.  The words of the moment are "NO!" and "NOW!"

Some of that is age.  Arguably gender.  Definitely personality.  But here's the thing glaring me in the face: he doesn't act that way with anybody else.  Anybody.  Not his teacher at school.  Not Daddy Moose.  It's just me.

After roundtabling with mom friends, Daddy Moose, and even Moose's trusted and wonderful pediatrician (who happens to have two very spirited ones of her own), the general consensus seems to be that I need to back off.

Not ignore.  Not abandon.

But encourage independence.  (And encourage is the exact right word because Moose wants to be independent; if I had a dime for every time I heard the phrase "I do it myself!" . . . )  Which is what I wanted all along, but somewhere, along the way stifled without intending or even realizing.

I am entering somewhat uncharted waters.  On Friday, I explained that, after we did the singing and dancing Moose asked for, I needed to get some work done in the kitchen and that he could help or he could play.  On Saturday I sorted old baby clothes while Moose ran around upstairs with his toy shopping cart. 

In the absence of a model to follow (Do you have one to share?), I'm loosely following a 30 min/30 min schedule of time spent actively engaging together/independent time. 

It is hard work, not devoting all my attention to the Moose.  And exhausting.  But it's worth a try, and all I can do is cross my fingers and hope he and I both come out the other side better for it!

Joining Lydia again for Monday mothering inspiration!

Picnic {Mindful Mothering Mondays}

In case you hadn't noticed, life with the Moose has not exactly been a picnic of late.  And, in truth, I've had more than a few moments where I wondered what the heck we were doing starting the process to adopt again when I can't even get through grocery shopping with the Moose without a screaming fit.  He's even taken to spitting when he is mad (gee, thanks, little-girl-in-daycare-class for that gem).

The only thing that keeps me from going crazy is being mindful and receptive of the little moments when the Moose is in just the right mood.  And then it is bliss.  Maybe only 30 seconds of bliss.  But bliss, in any quantity, is most welcome!

And lately, breakfast has been bliss. 

Typically, Moose doesn't have time for breakfast.  Even on non-schooldays, there is invariably some hammering that needs to be done.  Something outside he needs to "check on".   The cat always needs to be tortured pet/tickled/hugged (yes, he really does try to hug the cat).

But recently he's asking for breakfast.  Nothing fancy.  A cereal bar or toast satisfies.  And it must be eaten picnic-style.  

I am happy to oblige!  I get to sit down and sit still with him.  (And my sadly neglected tea towel collection has been delighted to have a purpose, too!) And, at least for a few minutes, life is a picnic.

Happy to be linking up today with Lydia's Mindful Mothering Mondays.