Straddling two worlds

My wise and wonderful friend, Julia, has been the touchstone of my parenting life. She is not only educated in early childhood development, she works with kids everyday. She explained 2-1/2 to me last weekend. What happens at 2-1/2 is that the child (children at our house) looks ahead and sees the world -- big boy pants, preschool, itty-bitty soccer, independent swimming lessons, chores -- and says "no thanks, I'll stay here in Toddlerville."

But they say this without words or real warning and then one day (okay last week right before a much needed weekend away) I was peeling a weeping child off my leg for ninth time in a half HOUR and Shadd had disappeared into his internal happy place and he wouldn't come out. At that point, I decided to get some advice.

So, Julia explained that they have reverted because the future looks a lot different than the easy ride of baby/toddlerhood. They won't use the potty and they throw tantrums and they CLING like spider monkeys. They have a foot in each world. This explanation helped a lot. I have gained understanding and a terrific analogy du jour. I'm applying this foot in two worlds thing to everything in my life -- and it helps. I'm trying to make some changes, and I miss the mark and fail and revert at times. But now, I'm looking at it anew and I am going to give myself a little more time and apply all the patience I can muster to myself and to these little boys as we all move forward.

A golden egg

I spent three long days last week home with two stomach-flu sick kids while coordinating two press conferences, a school fundraiser and a interdepartmental mini-crisis. While peeking into the back of Ryder's diaper to check the damage at one point, he asked me, "Whatchyou yookin' for back dere, Mom? A egg?" At the time I laughed and answered yes and he proceeded to tell me all about the egg he laid and the baby bird that would be living with us moving forward. It's been my anecdote of the week.

But, upon further reflection, I've decided Ryder offered a great comment on what I took away from a long, hard week. The whole week offered up challenge after challenge, but every one of those cracked open and offered up a new possibility. Every egg had a prize inside -- greater understanding of an issue or a colleague or myself.

Oddly, I was given a gift of a dozen farm fresh eggs the day after that conversation -- each a shade of sage or brown that I thought only occurred on the cover of Martha Stewart Living -- but lo and behold -- occur in nature too! And they are beautiful in themselves and in their promise. Just like the moments that make up my messy good life.

So, yes Ryder, I'm looking for an egg and I promise that we always will have great fun with whatever we find inside.

you gotta laugh...

I have a trying child. One of the three. He's sweet too, loving, but prone to fit-pitching and slippery tantrums. Tonight, I'm alone with the three boys and this one throws rice at me at the dinner table which leads to enforced time-out. Then, when he won't stay in the corner I threaten a spanking... and when I go to deliver, I pull down his little diaper and stick my thumb in a mushy pile of poop. This brings the house down. All three boys laughing. Me not so much.

So I nix the spanking in favor of a stern talking to over a particularly messy diaper change. I end with "you got me?" and my 2-1/2 year old imp says "yesh, I unnershtand." Five minutes later, after the imp and his twin have stripped down to their diapers and are jumping on the guest bed, I sternly say "Wyatt, I asked you to finish your milk. Will you finish it now?" and he says, "uuuuummmmmm..... no sir!" I laugh, I can't help it. I roll with it and it's good.

detoxing and debriefing

I'm detoxing and I'm hungry.

I'm trying to go all holistic on my hive-inducing stress and this includes giving up everything that tastes good. It's the alternative basics and they don't taste very good -- soy and rice and veggies and no sugar or flour or caffeine or alcohol. Writing this down is so depressing! But here's the thing. Its forcing me to think about what we eat, how it affects us and how to eat better and offer better options at home that will provide the best long-term results.


I'm forcing myself to figure out a new set of basics -- not the basics I know and love. Not milk and butter and sandwiches, but instead, rice pasta, tofu and beans. And so this brings me to a workplace challenge (stay with me here). PR is a business of basics with some longstanding delivery channels -- we cover the 5Ws and we charm people briefly with our witty choice of words. We get information out there via press releases, web sites. OK, well we did... and now we're learning a whole new set of basics. Blogs and Twitter and podcasts and wikis and some things even more current than that of course. And these new basics don't taste very good to me yet. I like the IDEA of them a lot, but I'm still trying to get comfortable with them.

So, this, like whole grains and tofu stir fry, is much better for me and for all of us -- I'm clear on that. And I know that if I persevere, they'll taste good too.

Nip it where?

I'm so obnoxious. The older I get, the more completely I become the character of an English major that Garrison Keillor talks about. I rant and I rave and I ridicule (mostly in private but not always) those who misuse the English language. I've become obsessive about random capitalization, I abhor unnecessary quotation marks and I use words like abhor. But lately, the one that's killing me is "nip it in the BUTT." Intelligent people all around me say it all the time. I'm trying not to lecture, but for the record it is nip it in the BUD. As in, stop the growth, and not bite something in the ass.

I think its a colloquialism, an accent thing from the Germans down in the Sauerkraut triangle, but I need to do my part to nip this little misuse ... in the bud.

March is love

April schmapril... March is tough. March is frustrating, unpredictable and can range from ornery to glorious. If you can survive March, if you can just put your head down and get through the tough days, March is a wonderful thing and it rewards you with spring at the far end. Appropriately, this maddening and intriguing month is Shadd's birth month. Never boring... that's the trick to March and marriage.

Just in case anyone has NOT read the Shadd Piehl feature in the MSUM Alumni magazine, you can find it here.

front line PR and the easily inflated ego of a minivan mom

So PR is pretty organic business. The checkout person, the waitress, the receptionist -- the front line folks really set the tone and either carry the day or wreck it for a business. Today, I must commend Arby's on this. This is one of those moments when personal and professional cross paths. And I have to say the service, generally in this town is baaaaad. Teenagers with attitude, etc.

So today I go through the Arby's drive-thru in my mommy-style minivan and order a beef & cheddar b/c I love them and b/c I had exactly three singles in my wallet and some change after buying diapers and a shredder. (These are not related.) So I drive through and the nose-beringed teenage guy who takes my money offers up a little banter. "You should have bought 3 for $5 -- they keep in the fridge and they aren't bad heated up." he tells me. I tell him I'm just not that hungry and then he pulls out the kicker -- the line that will keep this 38-year old mom of three comin' back for more. "I really like your stockings," he says with just a hint of leer. (I have on a skirt and black funky tights -- no garters or anything, just slightly art-y work clothes).

I've been out of the game for some time, but damn whether it was sincere or not, there is NOTHING better than a little ego boost after buying diapers! I left there feeling very good and that's what PR is. Everybody feeling good.