Don’t let fear stop you from celebrating

October 14, 2016 HandMeDownsLeave a comment

“What if something happens?” I remember thinking the day of the photo shoot. I turned that thought over and over in my head as I watch my husband and two children playing in the grass in front of our vehicle while waiting for the photographer. “Please don’t let them get dirty” I called, Spouse nodded and waved at me in response. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, my heart racing as I walked around to the back of the Jeep to get our stuff ready. I glanced up at my husband, he was busy monitoring the kids. I pulled the digital pregnancy test out of my purse and peaked at it. I felt butterflies in my stomach every time I saw those words: “Pregnant”. They sat there in dark bold letters on the oval screen. I smiled to myself, I was going to surprise him with the news during our photo shoot.

After deciding to add a third child to our family we had began calling our potential third child “Pancake”. This was after an incredibly hysterical conversation between Glenn and Abraham from The Walking Dead regarding Glenn and Maggie’s pregnancy and “trying to make pancakes when pouring the Bisquick”. We talked a lot about Pancake. What it would be like to have three, how our oldest would react and how our youngest would handle not being the youngest anymore. We were excited and hopeful, patiently awaiting our Pancake.
I got a positive pregnancy test on May 22nd. I took probably ten more just to make sure and was only finally convinced when the digital test gave me a clear “pregnant” reading. I called my OB and they did serial blood work to see that my HCG was climbing like it should. Everything looked great. I kept the little secret for about a week while I prepared the special announcement. I was going to surprise my husband during our family pictures, I wanted to capture his reaction to the news about Pancake. After all this was going to be our last baby, I wanted it to be special.

The photographer arrived and smiled at me conspiratorially, she was as excited as I was. I carried a container of Bisquick and the pregnancy test hidden away in my purse. Spouse toted the chalk boards to the center of the park where we planned to snap the photos. We distracted the kids with a video on the phone and stood back to back, we were to write something sweet to one another on our chalk boards. Of course I already knew what mind would say: “Pancake, due January 2017”.

We faced the camera and then one another. I saw his eyes slide across the words once and then again. I saw them widen with realization and then the giant smile lit up his face. That ear to ear grin of an excited dad to be. The camera clicked furiously capturing those first moments. Each snap ensuring that these memories would last forever. He wrapped me up in a big hug and asked how long I had known and a handful of other pertinent expectant father questions. I showed him the test and handed him the container of Bisquick, we laughed together at our inside joke and held each other tight.

Today I would have been 24 weeks. I would have been over half way through my pregnancy. The kids and their dad would have been able to feel baby moving inside my swollen belly. I would have outgrown my jeans and moved into maternity clothes. We would have been trying out names, pulling out bags of clothes that had been saved from brother and sister. We would have been so much nearer a family if 5. But something did happen, we lost Pancake at 8 weeks. It was by far one of the hardest and worst moments in our lives.

My answer the day of the photo shoot to the question of, ‘what if something happens’ had been, ‘Then I will have wanted to celebrate while we could. I would have wanted to cherish this baby while we could. I would have wanted memories and treasures. I would have wanted everyone to know how happy we were and how much we wanted our Pancake. I would have wanted Pancake to know how much he or she was loved. I would have wanted something tangible so in the moments when I feel that joy has left me, I would be able to hold tight and see what a gift I had to be able to have those special moments with my husband and children, all three of them”.

Miscarriage is not uncommon, it effects roughly 3 million women per year in the US alone. It’s emotionally and physically painful. It’s something that almost every woman worries about when she first finds out that she is pregnant. It is a fear that robs many women of the joy of celebrating their pregnancies from the earliest possible moment. And it’s not fair.

It’s just not fair that the fear of loss should prevent us from sharing the wonderful news that we are expecting. That It should stop us from telling those we’re close to that we are carrying something amazing within us. It’s not fair that the fear should prevent us from celebrating and savoring those moments that for far too many end way too soon. It’s unfair that in the midst of a loss, that fear we had, prevented us from sharing with those who could support us the most through it.

Don’t let it. Don’t let the fear of loss, or societies recommendation of cautious optimism stop you from celebrating, from sharing, from cheering and shouting your joy. Own it. Savor it. Cherish the moments from the earliest possible second that you are able! Had I considered that ‘what if’ question and chosen to act on the side of caution, I would have missed out, the fear would have stolen the blessed memories that I do have of our Pancake. You may have days, weeks, months or years, but don’t let the fear of “what if” stop you from enjoying the moments you do have. I’m so very glad I didn’t.

Mommy Lessons · parenting

Hands

September 11, 2016 HandMeDowns2 Comments

I went to bed tonight holding my daughters hand. She was snuggled up next to me, fingers interlaced in mine. I can remember when those fingers were just barely big enough to wrap around my extended index finger. They were so small and appeared so fragile, but they gripped my finger and my heart with such fierceness that it surprised me. I can remember when those fingers spread out across my palm, barely taking up a fourth of it. She would wiggle those chubby little things, pat my open hand and grin gleefully.
I can remember when those little fingers would reach up and stroke my cheek as she nursed. Soft and feather like, they would linger just for a moment before reaching out for my own hand, to curl hers contentedly around. I can remember when those little fingers would wrap around the first two fingers on each of my hands. She would hold on as tight as possible for pulling from me strength and support, while standing triumphantly on skinny wobbly legs.

I can remember when those little fingers let go of mine for the first time; leaving a feeling of coldness in their absence. I held my breath as she took her first few independent steps. I can remember those same fingers pushing me away when I rushed to scoop her up and help her stand again. I can remember her hand in mine palm to palm, fingers stretched as far as they could to match mine; growing. I can remember when those fingers became long enough to reach the end of my palm; I could still just barely bend my fingers and capture her wiggling hand, making her giggle.

I can remember when those hands began to spend more time holding toys and dollies than they did holding my hand. I can remember when those fingers, longer and stronger, yet still so small wrapped around a pencil, and drew out her name in long shaky letters. I can remember when those fingers reached for mine, warm and sweaty, now almost half the size of my own hand. She squeezed mine tightly, and whispered, “Will you remember to pick me up?” I smiled and nodded reassuringly, and watched her walk into her first day of school.

I can remember the moment that I realized that there will come a day when I can’t remember the last time I got to hold her hand. She will have grown; her hand as big if not bigger than mine. That day looms ahead of me, so near and so far, filling me with hope and sadness. There will still be those occasional moments, where as an adult, she may reach for my hand, holding tightly, drawing strength and support, just as they did when she was learning to stand on her own.

There will be a day when she will have other hands to hold. Hands that are her equal, her match, her mate. Hands that are smaller than hers and that will capture her finger and heart in one single squeeze, as hers did mine. And there will be a day, when my hand will no longer be there for her to hold.

But for now, I can remember last night, and how her fingers, growing longer and stronger by the day, twisted into mine. Relaxing ever so slightly as she drifted off to dream land. For now I can make the most of every opportunity to take her hand into mine, and savor those moments; so when the days come that her hand is too busy for mine, I will have plenty to remember.

Mommy Lessons · Uncategorized

Inadequate

January 26, 2015 HandMeDowns9 Comments

Merriam-Webster dictionary gives the definition of inadequate as this: “lacking in quality or quantity required; insufficient for its purpose”. I’m certain that if I were in a room full of parents and said “Raise your hand if you’ve ever felt inadequate as a parent”, there wouldn’t be a single person not raising their hand. If there were anyone in the room not raising their hand it could be due only to the fact that someone superglued them to the chair or they’re lying. I remember from the moment that expensive digital test blared the unmistakable word “pregnant” on its little grey screen, I began to question my ability to be a parent. I technically wasn’t even one yet, however there I was unsure of myself and my capabilities. But why? Why are we so unsure of ourselves as parents?

Is it because there are sooo many choices? Cloth or disposable diapers. Homemade or jarred food. Organic or nonorganic. Breast or bottle. Strollers or slings. Co-sleep or crib. Vaccine or no vaccine. There are even choices for our choices! Pampers, Loves, Huggies…there are entire walls dedicated to varying brands of disposable diapers.

Or is it because we are bombarded by advertisers who portray parents who don’t use their products as a little less than those who do? ‘Choosey moms choose Jiff’; and what about those who like the one with the flying boy on it? Or ‘by the second one, all parents are experts’ and those experts obviously prefer one specific brand of diaper.

Could it be our innate competitive nature to rear the best children that the world has ever seen; causes us to constantly compare ourselves to other parents, leaving questions and doubts crowding our minds. Am I doing the right thing, should I have fed him that, should I have let her wear that, will they really turn out okay if I don’t let them sleep with me, or if they do sleep with my will they be scarred for life?

Perhaps it’s all three. Or none of the above, maybe something I haven’t listed. The reason doesn’t so much matter as the fact that we do. I’ve heard countless friends and acquaintances express their uncertainty and their concern about the choices that they have made or are making for their children. Questioning their judgment. Doubting their ability based on the going ons around them. I do it myself.

I see parents when I drop off my children who are spectacularly dressed and I’m lucky to show up with pants and a shirt that I didn’t sleep in or wear to work the night before. I find myself tugging my tshirt down over my yoga pants (note I never do yoga) and glancing at my kids; inadequate. I find posts from parents who are rocking incredible homemade therapy sessions and the only thing that could pass for therapy for us that day was him trying to dig out two lost Cheerios under the couch. (I mean that’s fine motor right?); inadequate.
I see moms bent down on one knee speaking soft reasoning words to their tyrant of a toddler and I am immediately reminded of the wall shuddering bellow of “Get.Your.Daggum.Shoes.On.Your.Feet.NOW!” that shot out of my mouth not even a half an hour earlier; inadequate.

What it boils down to is this; the more I compare myself to those around me, the more inadequate I feel. I gotta stop, we’ve gotta stop. The true judge of our ability is our children. The choices that we make for our families are OUR choices. Make them and stand by them with confidence. Instead of looking around at the other parents doing all the other things that you THINK you should be doing, look at your children. It’s easy to see that what you are doing is enough, it is sufficient, it is adequate, when you use your children as the scale by which to measure.

I know that it’s difficult not to compare, or even judge other parents, but it’s important to remember that that’s what they are; other parents. They’re making the choices for their families. Those choices may not be right for your kids, and you shouldn’t feel inadequate because of that. It’s possible that the parent you’re envying isn’t as put together as you think they are! As parents we all have a similar goal in mind; the health, happiness and well being of our families, we can’t do that if we’re consumed with self doubt.

I’m not going to let the fact that my daughter has eaten dog treats, peed in a potted plant, fed her brother his own boogers or painted him blue with stamps, make me feel like less of a parent. My daughter is incredible; she has a vocabulary that won’t quit, her creativity is inspiring and her sense of humor admirable. My son rocks; he faces whatever comes at him with “a kiss my diapered butt” grin, spreads joy to whomever he meets and challenges this family to be more than just observers of life. Hearing their laughter and seeing their smiles throughout the day confirm to me that I’m doing alright.

My children shall be my scale, not the parents around me! I’m going to move forward as a mama who is confident in her ability, attempt not to allow myself to compare my choices to others and I’m gonna wear my yoga pants proudly. I hope you’ll do the same (yoga pants not a requirement).

Mommy Lessons · Uncategorized

Mommy Lesson 700: Nothing to Lose Your Head Over

January 5, 2015January 20, 2015 HandMeDowns5 Comments

I want to first start off by issuing an apology. This apology is to my daughter. Mommy is very, VERY sorry that you were unfortunate enough to bear witness to the events that unfolded this evening. I am certain that the shocking and unsettling incident that occurred will leave you slightly jaded. You may never look at mommy the same, or your Dollie for that matter. I hope that you can forgive me and maybe even forget my unfortunate mistake.

After enjoying a nice family dinner and playing at the play place in our local mall we arrived home just in time for pajamas and bedtime. While picking out her jammies Abi asked if we could change her special Christmas dolly out of her church clothes and into her pajamas too. I said sure and she proceeded to pick out a pair of pajamas for herself and her doll. She then sat down in the floor to change her dolly’s clothes. Peanut expertly removed the shoes and the jacket but struggled with the dress.

She looked to Super Mom for some help and I willingly obliged. I sat cross legged on the floor, the doll standing straight up with her arms up over her head. I nimbly pulled the dress up and over the top, in much the same fashion you would your own child. Things were going great until the dress became stuck around the dolls head. Now, typically when clothing becomes entangled around your child’s head you just tug a little harder. If that doesn’t work, you typically feel for a button or snap that you may have forgotten. If not button or snap is present you just pull really, really hard and eventually the child will be wrenched free of the offending outfit. This doesn’t work for dollies.

Want to know why? Because THEIR HEADS COME OFF! I tugged and pulled and felt the clothes suddenly give and come free of my daughters VERY special Dolly. I was grinning ear to ear until I heard my daughters surprised and terrified gasp. I followed her open mouthed stare to the the neck of the dolly. Smile gone, proud moment over, childhood ruined.

Abi open and closed her mouth rapidly, rather fish like, gasping for air, unable to say anything. I frantically pulled the decapitated dolly head from the Chinese trap of a dress, and worked desperately to stick it back on. “Ha, oh dear, you know Peanut, um sometimes these things happen. But it’s REALLY easy to fix”. She sat and watched stunned as I attempted to cram dolls head onto dolls body. “She. Doesn’t. Have. A. Head.” I frowned, I mean the darn thing came off so easily, it should back on just as easily, right?

I crammed and twisted for what felt like hours, but I’m sure it was only seconds and finally with a satisfactory click the head snapped back on. I held her up triumphantly and realized that she was looking at me from her backside. “Oh!” I yelped, and quickly spun her head around to the front. I peeked at Abi and found her still sitting there, mouth stuck open. “Hey! Look, there, all better. Mommy fixed her! Yay mommy!” Abi narrowed her eyes at me and snatched her precious Dollie from the dangerous grasp of the beheadding mommy “You. Pulled. Her. Head. Off.”

My attempts at an apology fell upon deaf ears as she set about checking her doll out to insure that I hadn’t detached any other parts. She verified that both arms and legs were still attached before sending me a seething glance and placing her dolly safely in its sleeping bag. She smoothed her hair out and gave her a kiss and placed her gently beside her bed on the floor. Without a word, she looked at me with disappointment, and silently left the room shaking her head. She turned right at the door, sighed and said, “I don’t think that you should play with dolly again”.

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Mommy Lessons · Uncategorized

Mommy Lesson 251: Buzz Buzz Chirp Chirp

December 29, 2014January 5, 2015 HandMeDowns1 Comment

The average family in the United States has 2.16 children. While it may be difficult to determine just how one would get .16th of a child, it’s not much of a stretch to say that a large number of children have siblings and almost every child will encounter at least one pregnant woman during their lives. Inevitably the visual of a woman’s swollen belly will provoke certain questions.

These questions might include; what’s in there? How does it come out? They might even ask; does that man have a baby in his tummy? While the majority of these questions are fairly easy to answer, one day your child will ask THE dreaded question; how did it get in there?

Earlier today the kids and I were driving down the road. Ever curious, Abigail began questioning me about where we were going. I told her that we were headed to a baby shower. She wasn’t sure what that meant, so I elaborated a little further. “Umm, you remember when baby brother was in Mommies tummy and we had a big party for him while he was in there? That’s what we’re doing for the little baby in Shannon’s tummy”. Instead of further questions, she requested a cookie. Being before dinner I told her no, which led her to sit pouting in her car seat. After close to 10 minutes of silent contemplation Abi piped up with “Mommy, how did the baby get in her tummy?”

My fingers clenched the steering wheel and I felt the car serve sharply to the right. I started to stammer, stalling for time. As a mother of two, I am well aware of how they got in there. With my background as a labor and delivery nurse I am capable of remaining calm during high stress situations, yet my palms were beginning to sweat, my heart was racing and I could feel my cheeks getting red and warm. I quickly thought of and rejected several explanations inside my head and glanced into the rear view mirror. Abi sat looking at me, patiently awaiting an answer.

I licked my lips, trying to draw some moisture into my mouth, and took a big breath in, here goes nothing. “Um, well, Abs, um….”. My eyes darted frantically around the inside of the car, know my inquisitive daughter would not accept “they just do” as an answer. After what seemed like a millennium I found the answer, “Hey, Abi? You want a cookie?”

Sometimes distraction is the best answer. Abi happily chewed her cookie and watched the scenery go by. Swallowing the last bite she glanced up and repeated her question, “But how do they get in there?”. Obviously another cookie was not the answer, I quickly calculated my additional options and settled on avoidance, “Hey, you know what? Why don’t you ask your daddy when he comes home?

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Down syndrome · Mommy Lessons · Uncategorized

Sibling Love

December 11, 2014December 25, 2014 HandMeDowns5 Comments

So the holidays are a pretty crazy time of year for everyone. Add in therapy, volunteering at my kids schools, a sick grandma, work and a blog and something is bound to get left out. Hence the lack of posts lately….I am sorry.

When I was pregnant with Gabe I thought over and over about how Abi would treat her brother. An irrational part of me thought that she would see that he was “different” and not want him. I was worried that she would feel neglected and left out. I had no idea that those things would really happen, but not because Gabe was born with Down syndrome, but because he was born in general!

The first few days we brought brother home from the hospital, Abi was clingy and unhappy. Baby was getting way more time than she was with mommy and she didn’t like that! But after the newness wore off and I perfected the mommy juggle Abi began to tolerate her brother, even going so far as to snuggle him, share with him and cram his pacifier into his mouth every now and then.

Then Gabe began to move. He started first by grabbing and pulling her hair. Then he began rolling front to back and back to front across the floor to get to her. Then he mastered the belly creep and before long he was chasing her down on his hands and knees. Little by little her tolerance of him taking her toys was exhausted and a love hate relationship was formed. He loved her and she hated the fact that he did!

Anywhere Abi was Gabe wanted to be there, watching and staring at her with adoration. Attempting to do the things that she was doing, even if that meant using the specific toy that she had to do so. As a mom, I began to grow concerned when Abi began to tell me that she didn’t like brother, because he took her toys and smelled like cheese, which apparently made her gag. I began to watch, hoping that I would see a glimmer of love somewhere, and that their bond wasn’t really just one sided.

And then it happened. Gabe was playing with another child, who promptly bopped him on the head, twice and made him cry. Out of nowhere came hero big sister, crouching behind poor beaten baby brother, guarding him as if she were a mama grizzly. She glared and snapped her fingers at the little offender and comforted her “Baby Chubs”. Despite what she says at home, when we are out in public, she is his protector and he is her comfort. The two of them always aware of where the other is and often looking up to check on one another.

I know that siblings don’t always get along, but that’s just part of sibling love. It’s a special kind of love, formed out of necessity and tolerance, but grown over time to be an unshakeable bond. I can’t say I always like my brother (sorry ky 😉 ), but if you mess with him, you better watch out for sister! I know that as the years go by we will act as referees in a variety of battles, but deep down I know that Abi loves her brother and that he absolutely adores her.

Check out the Gabe Logan Production, “Sibling Love“!

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Mommy Lessons · Uncategorized

You don’t have like it to be thankful

November 27, 2014December 25, 2014 HandMeDowns2 Comments

It’s Thanksgiving, the one day of the year that we are specifically challenged to show our appreciation for the blessings in our lives. While I’m sure that we are all thankful throughout the year, this holiday is an excellent reminder to celebrate and promote thankfulness. All month long I’ve seen people posting about what they’re thankful for; their families, their jobs, their friends, their children, their satisfaction. Each person taking time to recount the blessings in their lives and saying “thank you” for them. My children have brought home hand made projects that express their gratitude for their mommy, daddy, sibling, suckers and even water.

Reading through everything through this month got me thinking; almost everything that everyone is thankful for are things they like. It’s easy to be thankful for those things; suckers are delicious, how can we not be thankful for them?! But, what about the things we don’t like? What about the things that happen throughout the year that aren’t delicious, aren’t so fun, aren’t so wonderful. What about the things that happen that may make you feel frustrated, or disappointed, or even angry? The events that occur that may leave you shaking your head and throwing your hands up in mock surrender; “I just can’t do it anymore, I give up”?

Why do we have to be thankful for those things? 1 Thessalonians 5:8 says; “In everything give thanks”. IN everything, it doesn’t say you have to be thankful FOR everything. I mean, if you stub your toe you don’t have to do a happy dance and shout, why thank you stupid couch! It friggin’ hurts! But, this verse challenges us to be thankful IN everything, in every moment of our lives, whatever season we happen to be in, the good and the bad, in the happy and sad places; give thanks.

How are we supposed to do that? It’s really easy to be thankful when we’re happy, when things are pleasant, when things are easy. But when things aren’t, it can be difficult to be appreciative. Just like it can be hard to see the sun through the clouds, you’ve still gotta try. Try to find the “silver lining”, if you wanna call it that, try to find the things you CAN be thankful for IN your current situation, or season.

I am not an eternal optimist, it’s hard to be thankful when things are tough, but I know what it’s like to not be thankful. To seek out and focus on all of the bad stuff, to only be concerned with what isn’t and what might not be. It’s a sad, frustrating and lonely place. When your focus is solely on those things, it can be hard to see the positive and to find anything to be thankful for. It’s hard, I get it, but here’s the deal: “if you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself” (Techumise).

I’m not always thankful for Gabe’s extra chromosome. I don’t like how it makes him have to work even harder to accomplish tasks that other children seem to breeze through. I don’t like seeing him frustrated because he cannot convince his mouth to make the words he wants to say. I don’t like that he lives in a world with others who may overlook his incredibleness because their focus solely on his lack of ability.

But I am thankful for what has come with it. The community that we have been able to become a part of and the friendships that have blossomed because of it! The understanding that milestones don’t need to occur on a time line. The ability to slow down in life and appreciate the accomplishments of each of my children in a new way. I am thankful for that extra chromosome for showing me a whole new side of ability and with it a different way to view to world. It has taught me about unconditional love and how to be an advocate for both of my children.

You don’t have to like the bee sting to appreciate the honey. I can’t guarantee that I will always be thankful in the moments that are hard and that I don’t understand, but I till always try to find the things I can thankful for. If I ever feel like there is nothing around me that I can appreciate then I’ll look into the past and be thankful for where I’ve been and I’ll look to the future and be thankful for where I’m going. I hope you can do the same.

Happy Thanksgiving!

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Mommy Lessons

Mommy Lesson 212: Cranky Crickets

November 17, 2014November 17, 2014 HandMeDowns2 Comments

If you wake up every few hours starving, your underpants are sopping wet, and your feet occasionally get stuck up inside your froggy covered feety jammies, then you would know what it means to “sleep like a baby”. While those things don’t sound awfully appealing I often find myself staring enviously at my responsibility and carefree snoozing little ones, wishing that I could sleep as they do.

However, with the many adult tasks to be accomplished sleep often falls by the wayside. I read somewhere once that a parent loses around 6 months of sleep in the first two years of their child’s life. Two kids equal the loss of one year, add in working night shift, and my somewhat implausible desire to be super mom, and it can be safely assumed that I am more often awake than asleep.

When the glorious time to visit snoozeville does roll around, I am often intolerant of interruptions that do not involve my children. Tonight was no different. After finally convincing myself that I had done all that I could possibly do in one day, I climbed in bed and turned off the tv. Without the background noise, the ambience of the room became even more noticeable. The chainsaw, that was my husband, was serenely echoed by epileptic beagle snores, and snooty shitzu snorts. Through it all, however, came a noise that would soon drive me to madness; a cricket.

Jimminey was happily sitting directly under my window chirping incessantly. someone must have loaned him a loud speaker. The horrendous sound was becoming like nails on a chalk board. The years worth of sleep deprivation was catching up to me, and in this moment and all I could focus on was getting rid of the amplified insect! I lept from the bed, glaring at my husband, who was oblivious to my plight, grabbed a broom and stalked outside. I would like to add what a wonderful thing a privacy fence is. The men in white coats would have been called for sure had my neighbors been witness to the chaos that ensued in mu backyard.

Rockin my bed head hair, husband size shirt, and Mickey pajama pants, I stalked across the back yard weilding my weapon of choice. As I neared the bedroom window I noticed that a silence had filled the area. No Jimminey, he must be busy quaking in fear. I had heard that crickets will stop their irritating chirping in the presence of someone unknown, unsure of his hiding spot and wanting to ensure that I chased the now silent-but-waiting cricket away, I began to smack spastically and frantically at the grass all around the window and side of the house. Certain that my madness had frightened off every living thing within swatting distance, I triumphantly returned to the house.

I stood proudly at the entrance of my bedroom and listened. Through my husband, the jet plane, snores and the accompanying dogs, I could still hear it; that immortal cursed cricket. How could he have survived?! I ran to the window in an attempt to determine his whereabouts and plot my next attack. I listened carefully, surprise filled my mind when I realized that the crafty critter had taken up residence in the dog bed. Grabbing a weapon, I knelt down. With shoe poised to strike I yanked back the dogs blanket and swung. With mere centimeters left, I pulled out of my attack before I smashed Abi’s sound machine into smithereens.

Jimminey was no more than a battery operated soother, meant to fill your room with serene forest sounds. Abi had been running around with her “computer” throughout the day and had obviously forgotten it. With the batteries removed glorious silence filled the room. I climbed back in bed to fall asleep to the soothing sounds of “freight train” and his friends.

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Mommy Lessons · Uncategorized

Mommy Lesson 118: Survival of the Mommiest

November 10, 2014February 14, 2017 HandMeDowns4 Comments

Being the mom of a precocious toddler and a 3 month old we have some good days, and not so good days. The good days are filled with belly laughs, meals that are not refused by picky eaters, a lack of poopy diapers and bedtimes that occur on time. Mommy goes to bed smelling like roses and there are little unicorns and dancing rainbows in her dreams.

Then there are the not so good days. These days usually consist of at least one pooptastrophy, missed nap times, the disappearance of favorite shows from the DVR, toys that are MIA, a toddler who assumes that any food will most likely kill her (yes even peanut butter on bread). There is a high likelihood of tears and snot, and not just from the children. On those days, our focus is on one thing; survival. Which means, if I can just make it to bedtime with every member in the house still alive, I’m pretty happy.

After church, lunch, and a definitely not long enough 20 minute nap Sister was slightly irritable and incredibly hyper. By 6pm Brother sat horrified, staring from his swing as his screaming sister ran around the house wearing a tutu and crown and most of her dinner on her face. He watched with confusion as she bounced her way down the couch towards him, with the single goal of poking him in the face with her giant stick (magic wand).

“Alla-ca-da-la” she chanted with a swish of the stick (magic wand), if landed with a thwack millimeters from the babies fingers. Fearing for his life, I’m sure, or at least the integrity of his appendages, Brother began to cry. I scooped him up and jiggled him around some, partly fearing the upchuck that would most likely occur from the rapidity of movement, and glanced at the clock. 6:02, yay! We made it another two minutes.

I knew Spouse, would not be off work in time to assist with bedtime, so I began the process of alligator wrestling (bathing) early. After twenty incident free minutes both children emerged smelling delightfully of baby shampoo. I gathered up some of Sisters favorite toys and settled down on my bed to nurse Brother before putting him to bed.

I settled Sister on the floor next to the bed with her favorite toys. The evidence of her fatigue appearing in the form if a yawn and the rub of an eye. “We’re going to make it” I thought happily to myself. I gazed down at my youngest, whose eyes were beginning to droop from the effects of a milk induced coma. Lost briefly in the thoughts swirling through my mother logged brain, I missed the beginnings of mischievous giggles.

The flush of the toilet snapped my attention back into the present, I glanced around the room. Sister was no longer in her spot, and was now standing by the toilet shouting encouragingly into the bowl. “Swim Minnie!” She flushed a second time and became annoyed with the lack of effort from her plastic Minnie Mouse figure. “This isn’t working”, she grumbles.

I jumped up and quickly retrieved a drowning Minnie Mouse with one hand while balancing the baby the other. While I washed our hands I explained the dos and do nots of the potty: potty in toys out.

Seeming to understand she again settled on the floor to play with her “guys” and the dog to play. I had just laid the baby down in his bed and was returning to the bedroom when an unfamiliar sound greeted my ears. It was similar to the sound a cat makes when hurling up a hair ball, but it had a dryer quality to it. It was fairly rhythmic and I had almost placed the noise when I noticed sister was again no longer in the spot I’d left her.

I heard her little voice coming from the bathroom, it was calm and unconcerned, “This is a problem, I’ll go get mommy”.

Mommy was already in action, sprinting like a graceful gazelle (picture cat wearing socks), and bouncing over the bed with spy like firm (I really actually just tripped over the toys and fell onto the bed, but the momentum was enough to propel me over the side, flapping my arms like a baby bird flying for the first time). I knelt on the bathroom floor, my nursing skills expertly put to work as I performed a head to paw assessment on the gagging dog. I effectively performed the heimlich maneuver on an epileptic beagle who apparently cannot swallow an entire roll of toilet paper and turned my gaze to Sister.

She blinked at me and shrugged her shoulders. Hey, good job mommy!” she said with a pat on the back. I glanced at the clock again, “Hey! It’s bedtime!” I was almost giddy, I might have been if I hadn’t been eyeballing the dog and wondering if the lack of oxygen did her any harm. She wandered over to the toilet paper roll, sniffed it and gave it a Lick; nope just as dumb as ever, I thought to myself relieved.

After a handful of books and seven rounds of twinkle twinkle Sister was asleep. I peeked in at brother to confirm that he was participating in bedtime as well and then dropped onto the couch. I glanced around, and briefly reviewed the days events. There were a couple close calls and Kia won’t go near the bathroom now, but everyone survived… I heard Sister’s sleepy little voice call out,
“Hey, Mommy? Donald didn’t come back out of the big hole in the bottom of the toilet”. Well most of us did anyway.

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Mommy Lessons · Recipes · Uncategorized

Edible Play-dough

November 5, 2014November 5, 2014 HandMeDowns5 Comments

My daughter LOVES play-dough. She loves squishing, chopping, rolling, plopping, mixing and creating. Her brother? Well he likes to eat it. Therein lies the problem. It can make for a difficult and not so enjoyable time if I spend most of it retrieving bites of soggy, spit covered dough from brothers mouth. Aside from that, sister tends to become hysterical when she noticed that her play-dough pile is depleting. While the colorful poo-poo make changing his diapers entertaining, I do worry about brother actually consuming play-dough.

So, why not only let sister play with it? Well, play-dough is an excellent sensory and fine motor activity! I believe in therapy through play and like finding any opportunity I can for both of my children to participate. Play-dough can be rolled between fingers, squeezed in hands, rolled into balls, cut with butter knife, used with cookie cutters, the options are endless. It also provides an excellent opportunity for brother and sister to play together and interact with each other but maintain a sense of individuality. Simply put, I love play-dough and so do my kids.

What do I do about my play-dough muncher? Make my own safe to consume edible play-dough! I found several recipes using kook aid that looked pretty good, and had almost settled on making that and then I stumbled onto the easiest, most delicious recipe (link here) one could imagine. It consists of two ingredients: frosting and powdered sugar.

(You can find complete directions here,

The recipe called for 1 cup of frosting. I scooped out one cup and plunked it in the bowl. I then licked my fingers, and the spoon. (My kids, my germs, same thing). I peered into the can and realized, that it took up most of the can of frosting so I figured I’d just use the rest (more play-dough is better right?). Wrong, very wrong. I underestimated the amount of powdered sugar it would take to “dough-ify” the frosting and didn’t have enough. Even after using the amount it called for and the remaining 1/4 bag of powdered sugar I had, the dough was still pretty sticky.

I took some time to contemplate options and nibble on some dough. Holy sugar high! I shouldn’t have been surprised seeing that the ingredients were frosting and powdered sugar, but wowzers was it sweet. Thinking of a way to thicken it and not add go the sweetness I turned to corn starch. I sprinkled the corn starch onto the counter, separated the dough into smaller balls and kneaded it like bread until the consistency was pliable but not sticky.

I used my favorite frosting colors and kneaded them through the dough. You may want to wear gloves for this, otherwise your hands will look like the inside of a paint mixer. The end result was a lovely smooth textured, cloud like play-dough that both of the kids will love, mom too!

A few recommendations for you:
I love to have my kids help with cooking and creating in the kitchen, I would recommend making this during nap time or bedtime as the powdered sugar or cornstarch can get a little (a lot, I mean a whole lot) messy.

I would not participate in this activity just prior to any special event, as the sugar consumed may increase the activity level of your child. Imagine pinball, but add in screaming, squealing and diapers. This only occurs if the play-dough is consumed, however, it tastes really blasted good, so one should assume that it will be, possibly in large quantities.

You can substitute half of the powdered sugar for cornstarch. The consistency will still be the same, and it’s still suuuuuuper sweet.

Below is the link to the recipe that I used above and two extra ones that are just as amazing!

Edible Play-dough

Chocolate Play-dough

Edible Peanut Butter Play-dough

For those of you who are looking for a healthier alternatives:

“Healthy” Peanut Butter Play-dough

Gluten Free Edible Play-dough

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