I need my Yaya RIGHT NOW

I'm possessive about my kids. And I was raised by a single mother, so my default on how to parent is to do it all myself. With each child, I've gotten progressively better about sharing. With Jessica, I was just so in love with her, so in love with being her mother that I wanted to do it all.  By the time Sam came along, I was better at sharing. But he was such a clingy boy, I ended up doing most of it by myself with him, but was so grateful for my husband because he was able to take over a lot of the parenting duties with my older child.  But with Julianna - she's had such a strong bond with her daddy from the very beginning.

Which is not to say that he hasn't been an awesome daddy to my other two kids. He used to play "fight on the bed" with Jessie when she was barely two. One of my favorite memories is of her, all clean from her bath, curly brown hair and little princess nightgown on, and he'd whack her with the pillow, and I was horrified, but she'd pop up laughing hysterically and begging for it again.  She'd run across the bed with her "war face," and tackle him and they'd collapse onto the bed together. He was the champion puma hunter (she was obsessed with pumas in her closet, and would frequently refuse to go to bed unless Daddy had checked to make sure it was safe). And my son was in love with him from the start. Not in love, more that he worshipped his daddy. He seemed to intuit from a very early age that he was a boy and so was his dad, and to this day, loves nothing more than doing stereotypically "male" things like mixed martial arts or putting stuff together or cooking on the grill.  It was amazing to me, that Sam just knew that his daddy was who he needed to emulate and did everything he could be just like him.

But my Julie - she adored her daddy from the very beginning. One of the unforeseen blessings of unemployment was that he was home for her infancy, and was able to form such a tight bond. He was the one who put her sleep for the longest time, he'd rock her and rub her back and sing to her. Once she moved on to solid food, the majority of her meals were eaten out of his bowl or off his plate, and it's still one of her favorite activities, to sit on the floor and share a bowl of cereal with her "Yaya." I'm not sure why, but that was the name she came up with for him, and although she can say "Daddy," he's still Yaya. She misses him during the day, is mad at him for leaving for work each morning and rushes to the door to meet him when he comes home each night. I put the older two to bed early each night, and Julianna will stay up with her Yaya, they get a snack, watch Looney Tunes together.

This morning, I dropped the older two off at school, and as usual, Julie was in the backseat. She resents that they leave her each morning and was complaining loudly about needing her "G" and "My Boy" (which is what she calls the older two). But then she cheered up and said "I need my Yaya RIGHT NOW."

She's a daddy's girl, in the absolute most beautiful sense of the word. I've been thinking a lot lately about how critical dads are, and about how incredibly blessed and fortunate my children are. Because they have such an awesome dad. He flat out adores them and is never happier than when he's surrounded by all of them.

I'm grateful today, for Yaya, for the man who hunts pumas and teaches my toddlers about "war faces" and chases them around the house. I'm grateful for the man who taught my son to kill a bug, and my toddler to love hot sauce. Sometimes in life, you get lucky just by chance - and I'm forever grateful that this is the man that fathered my children.

Time Magazine

I think the picture on the front of the Time Magazine this week was deliberately chosen to be provocative and controversial. That being said - while I tend to shy away from being controversial for the sake of controversy - I was that woman two years ago. I'm about a year away from being that woman again. Samilicious Boy nursed until he was closer to four than three.  Julianna is two and still actively nursing. And it's baffling to me that this is an issue for anyone. 

I never planned on nursing past a year. Initially, my prime motivation was to avoid having to pay for formula, that stuff is expensive! But I learned that nursing is about so much more than just feeding a baby. It's about safety and nurturing and comfort and knowing that you are exactly and utterly what your child needs at that very moment. Jessie nursed until she was about eight months and then just lost interest. I expected that my son would do the same, but from the beginning, he was much more needy. He needed to be held, needed to nurse. He had colic and reflux, and nursing was what made it better. Even with 24/7 nursing on demand, he was still on daily meds for the reflux and there was a phenominal amount of crying, on both our parts. It seemed ridiculous to cut him off from what was, for him, such a source of comfort at twelve months. I made the decision to nurse as long as he needed too. Thank goodness, I had supportive friends, both of whom had babies around the same time and they were both in it for the long haul. I also had the amazing support of my husband, who was as committed to doing what was best for our children as I was. 

There's also considerable medical evidence to support extended nursing. The AMA recommends nursing for a minimum of a year and then as long after as the mother/child desire. The WHO recommends nursing for at least two years. My pediatrician was very supportive as well. Because when you think about it - how many toddlers do you know who are still on a bottle? Or still using a pacifier? I know a lot, because even if they aren't nursing, there's a fundamental need to suck that comforts kids. My oldest may have self weaned before she was a year, but she was falling asleep with her "fier" until she was four and half or so.

Toddler nursing just isn't that big of a deal. More and more women I know are doing it, because it makes sense. I love that nursing is still a part of my relationship with my toddler. I love that when she was puking, I didn't worry about dehydration at all. I love that my son didn't get sick at all until after he stopped nursing. He'll be six in a few months, and has never been on an antibiotic. My baby hasn't ever been to the doctor for anything other than a well baby visit. 

Extended nursing, extreme parenting, toddler nursing - it's all the same thing, and honestly, it's really not worth the drama that gets attached to it. It's not sexual, and nobody I know ever planned on nursing for years. But you do, sometimes, because it's what your child needs. 

In the end, we all make parenting decisions based on what we think is most important, on what's the best fit for us, for our kids, for our families. Some families homeschool, some do public school, and some unschool. And that's fine. Some mothers are more comfortable transitioning to formula earlier, some mothers like to nurse until the need is outgrown. And that's fine too. Some families co-sleep, some kids cry it out. I make the decisions for myself, and my family, based on what we want and need, and not necessarily what's socially acceptable at that particular time. And really, isn't that what we're all trying to do? 

Two years olds are my favorite

Not really - I think my all time favorite is those first few weeks home with a new baby.  And there's a LOT to be said for nine year olds and five year olds - Jessie and Sam are both growing up so much and each age is fascinating in it's own right.  But the age that Julianna is at right now is kind of awesome.   She's genuinely delighted by most things.  For example, today we went shopping.  And as per usual, we were chatting thru the store, talking about what we needed.  I had been looking for peanut butter and found it, and she hollered "YAY MAMA!" like I had just achieved this major goal.  It was awesome.  Her enthusiasm and general happiness is totally infectious.  It's very hard to maintain a bad mood around this girl..

Purgatory Chasm

Okay, I love baby wearing. I do. I wore Julianna all the time when she was tiny, but now that's she's a toddler, it's VERY rare that she'll sit in a carriage, let alone sit in a sling or a backpack. So I got out of the habit of bringing the carrier with me, and when I got the brilliant brainstorm on Sunday afternoon to take the kids to the Purgatory Chasm, I didn't even think of it.   And that was a major mistake.

We googled the directions and headed off. It was just my three kids and Marc and I - but we're definitely going back and bringing the older girls with us.  Sam was talking about how much he wanted to bring Glennys and Sarah back - he really loved it.  In the end, it was a really great experience, for a whole bunch of reasons. The older two LOVED it. Sam is a nature boy, he's always happiest surrounded by trees and sunshine, and Jessie was the official photographer, posing the kids and taking pictures of rocks and trees. We split duties, with Marc watching the older two and me walking along with Julianna. Julie is at that awesome age, where everything, everything is fascinating and worthy of saving. I'm talking rocks, sticks, old leaves. She couldn't take more than a step or two without being distracted by some lovely little thing and we'd have to pause, examine and pick it up to save. She'd gravely hand me her treasure and toddle on, and I'd discreetly drop it when she wasn't looking. 

We followed the yellow path for the most part, and somewhere along the line, we migrated over to the blue path. When we started, it was a lovely little hike on a rocky path thru the woods. Challenging for Julie to navigate, but not insurmountable. But eventually, we ended up in the actual Chasm part of Purgatory Chasm - and it was then that I realized that we had made a pretty major error in taking along a toddler with no carrier. Because you really do need to climb - and having two free arms is a necessity. 

It was completely an exercise in teamwork. Not just for Marc and I, but also for the older two kids. Because they forged on ahead, working together and climbing their way thru. Marc and I went slowly, one going first, passing the baby along to the one in front and then switching places, passing her along... it was honestly a bit scary and I kept thinking to myself that I was mostly crazy to have undertaken this endeavor. But we made it out, and while I'm not attempting it again for a couple of years with the toddler, I'm sending Marc back definitely. The older two kids LOVED it and can't wait to go back. 

Why we aren't doing summer camp

My kids don't like summer camp. To be fair, they don't like school either, but I make them go to that. But I can't bring myself to do it in the summer. I like summer just the way it is. Three glorious months when I don't have to worry about lunch boxes and which day is gym and did you remember your sneakers. I don't have to pick out clothes for them, I don't have to rush, rush, rush to get out the door. It's a long relaxing period of time, filled with day trips to the beach, visits to family members we don't see that often, and long, lazy days of just.... being. Picking dandelions and learning to ride a bike and roller skate. Climbing Mt. Monadnock and Mt. Wachusett. Strawberry picking, hiking, swimming. 

My kids don't particularly like a lot of structure. They like to wing it. They like to hang out at home, or to visit friends. They both begged to be able to stay home this summer, and I'm counting down the weeks to summer. 

They won't be this age again. My oldest is nine, we're flirting ever closer to the years where she'd rather hang with her friends than me. My son is still at the gorgeous age where he adores me, and is happiest when he's at my side. And Julianna - my little love bug is two, is there anything cuter than a two year old who worships her older siblings? I need to take advantage of this time, I want to relish every single minute of their childhood. 

So we're not doing camp this summer. We're going to go swimming in the ocean, we're going to visit the White Mountains, and explore the woods around our house. We're going to make nature journals, and take up bird watching. My oldest is planning on writing a book, my son is planning on trying to tame one of the squirrels outside. We're going to blow bubbles and take the bus (just for the fun of it). We're going to make weekly treks to the library, and we're going to visit and explore and sleep late and stay up even later. We're going to soak up every last bit of this summer, and I can't wait. 

Religious Crisis

Sometimes, often times, for me, I make parenting decisions that make sense.  That are well thought out, carefully considered and, in the end, I still feel, are the right decision at the time.  Then I run into the obvious consequences, and feel as though I'm blindsided - like I never saw that coming.  And it throws everything into question for me, and I have to circle my way back around to the original decision, and (usually) conclude that it was the right decision, I just have to wait thru the negative parts to get to the good stuff.

Case in point - Sam's preschool.  It was a seriously agonized over decision, to pull him out of preschool.  But he wasn't ready.  And at four, I wasn't ready to push him to go, and I did the research, I knew that he'd be okay academically, by the time a child hits third grade, any benefit to preschool has disappeared and you can't tell which kids went and which ones didn't.  What I didn't think about was that he'd be behind in kindergarten.  Why, I don't know - it's right there in front of me, but still, I was shocked by it.  I haven't fully gotten to the point where I'm forgiving myself for the original decision, because right now, things are HARD at kindergarten and there's a huge part of me that feels enormously guilty about that.  But I think, in the end, I'm going to conclude that it was right.  He was too little to go to preschool.  Sam is a different kind of kid, and he needed that extra time at home.  And I don't regret it, not really.  He's so much closer to Julianna, he got that extra time home when Marc was unemployed - and, in the end, he'll catch up.  He's a smart kid, he's got good genes and a good home environment, he'll catch up.

And I'm facing a similar debate over religion.   I knew from the beginning that I wanted to raise the kids within an organized religion.  I feel really strongly that having a base, a foundation for spirituality makes it easier later for them to be able to form their own ideas.  There is no organized Church of Melissa (although if there was, I reluctantly conclude I probably wouldn't join it, as I get itchy around organized religion) and since their father, and my husband, my partner, my buddy, is Jewish - it was an obvious conclusion.  We'll raise them Jewish.  But you can't just unilaterally decide to raise children as Jews if you (as a mother) are, in fact, not Jewish - so we formally converted.  And I still think that was the right decision. Theologically, Judaism is as close as you can get, really, to my own personal theology.  Plus, their dad is Jewish, they are Jewish as well.  He's as much a part of who they are as I am, it simply doesn't make sense that they wouldn't be considered Jewish because he's their dad and not their mom.

So I converted and converted the kids and am raising them Jewish.  And only just now realizing - that means they're growing up as part of an organized religious belief system and it makes me itchy.   Because organized religion - it's so easy to not think about it.  To just do what you're told to do, to mindlessly go thru life without ever exploring the bigger questions.  My kids kept kosher for Passover this year, not because they had thought about it, and carefully considered the meaning behind it, but because that's what you do when you're Jewish.   That freaks me out.  But they're five and nine.  That's okay.  And I need to come to grips with that.  Their spiritual path is not going to be the same as mine.  In the end, even though Marc is Jewish as well as they are, their paths are not going to be the same as his either.  Because they are going thru a completely different type of childhood than either of us did.  And I need to ease back.  I need to stop panicking because I'm living a very "organized religion" sort of life, and remember that I chose this for a reason.   I just have this aspect of my personality that rebels against joining - and the older the kids get, the more and more pressure I feel to join the larger Jewish community.  I was able to convert because it was mine.  My spirituality, and it's intimate and personal, and it didn't matter that I didn't like going to services.  I knew what was right for me.  But my kids love services, they love the ritual and the community and the rules and tradition.  I have to just grit my teeth and get thru it.  At this stage in their lives, following rules is what they do.  There will be time for independent thought, and one aspect of Judaism that I really love is that they are going to get that encouragement.  To think, to explore, to develop their own personal relationship with the Divine.

I just need to step back and know that I made the right decision.  Even if it's hard now, it's the right one, and I'm not going to regret it.

Updates on Everyone

Finally, we are done with the copious vomiting.  It's been days since I've had to clean up puke and I feel like a new woman.  Julianna Ruth is officially two years old, her birthday was on  Sunday.  Fortunately, we had a birthday party for she and Lilli the week before because her actual  birthday was lost in the puke haze.

Julianna is such a love - she's all emotion and excitement.  She's got the cutest little grin, with dimples and a wrinkled up nose.  She still calls Jessie "G," Sam is still "My Boy," and the older two girls are still "Ree" and "Rah."  Marc is still Yaya.  But she's got a basically unlimited vocabulary, sometimes I still struggle to decipher what she's saying, but she's really clear for the most part.  She's got a bit of an issue around new clothes, won't wear them, really.  Unless she's had it forever, she's not interested.  This doesn't bode well for the future, given that she's two and the clothes that she'll still happily wear fit her much better at the beginning of the winter.  She's going to keep growing, and well, she's going to have to suck it up.  She still hates baths with a misplaced passion that just makes everything more difficult.  We're half heartedly working on weaning.  Given that it took me close to two years to actually wean Sam, I've got no real hope of it happening soon, but I'm trying.   She nurses to sleep still, and would like to nurse mid morning and then again late afternoon.  I can usually talk her out of those two, but not always.

Sam  is actually doing surprisingly well.  Given that he'd been out of school for two weeks, I expected it to be a lot harder to get him back into the swing of it, but he's been great thus far.  He did tear up a little bit this morning, saying that he just missed me so much during the day, but he pulled it together pretty fast.   Going to bed is a breeze, I've been reading more and more to him.  Marc had been reading his way thru the Hardy Boys with him, but I started doing easy reader books with him that he can help read.   Marc and I both still really feel strongly about sending him to first grade, instead of holding him back, but we've got his conference set up for the end of the week.   He's in the play coming up - his teacher told me today that he's got one of the main parts.  Which seems like a BAD idea, given his desire to remain "under the radar," but she said he asked for the part and was really enthusiastic about it.  I'm hoping for the best, but a part of me is wishing  that he had a less prominent position, I'd hate for him to panic on the day of the play because everyone will be looking at him.

Jessie is thriving in third grade.  Really, I've got to say that this year is her best so far.  Her school conference went great - her teacher this year is wonderful.  I really got the sense that she understood Jessie.  She's doing great in school, scores really well on standardized tests, and the only hitch is that sometimes she screws up because she's firmly convinced she knows what she's doing and doesn't bother to read the directions.  She's so much happier, overall.  She's kind of coming into her personality, and it's awesome to watch.  She still likes to sleep in my bed, but more and more, she'll voluntarily go into her own.  She's growing up so fast, getting taller and skinnier and it's freaking me out just a little bit.  And by just a little bit, I mean a lot.