Proud Mama!

I suppose I should start by saying that I'm a bit ashamed to have been so weak in this area to begin with, but the pride wins out, so I just don't care...

Rachel was 2 months old before we gave her a pacifier. We didn't want to, she didn't seem to need it, and we weren't gonna do it. Ever. Right....

She was such a LOUD sleeper as a baby, in the cradle next to our bed. She just made little noises in her sleep all the time and as new parents, of course, we jumped up for every single one of them. I clearly remember that October night, rummaging around in the dark, digging through the closet in the nursery, just positive there had to be a binky in there somewhere. Finally, I found one, it was clearly Heaven sent. She took it right away and we slept. All of us. Finally!

Fast forward a few years to the night before Easter about 5 months before she turned 3. I was 5 months pregnant and determined to break her of the binky before the new baby arrived. We had talked about how giving all of your binkies to the Easter Bunny meant he'd leave extra treats, and deliver the binkies to other babies' Easter baskets. This was all going well as she dropped each excitedly into the empty Easter basket before bed... until she got to the last one. She stopped. She looked up at me. Her eyes filled with tears. "But Mommy, this means I won't have any binkies!" Yes, dear, that's the point!

I looked at hubby, he looked at me. I could see his response in his eyes. "This was your idea, I'm staying out of it." And then I caved. She kept the last binky. But ONLY for bed and the car.

Then baby #2 came along. She wanted NO part of the paci and still we pushed it on her, right from the get-go. She had acid reflux and wasn't comfortable for a second of the first 11 weeks of her life, unless I was holding her upright, while standing, and bouncing. I am not exaggerating when I say I held her for 2 weeks straight from 6-7 weeks old. Anyway... the paci kept her calm, so we gave it to her ALL the time. And of course, with a new baby in the house who required constant attention, we were willing to "overlook" Rachel's increased (outside the bed and the car) use of the binky. A lot.

We finally weaned her back to "only" her two permitted spots. She turned 3 with the binky. And then 4. And then I'd had enough. MORE than enough. However, even the mere mention of taking it away elicited the most pained, tortured, someone-just-shot-my-best-friend sort of response. I wanted it gone, at any price. But hubby, who takes her and her binky-wielding little sister back and forth to school each day (45+ minutes each way) was not prepared to play along.

And then she lost it. Literally.

Last Thursday night, as I was tucking her in and she was saying goodnight through the binky (I hate that!) I mentioned again that soon, we'd need to get rid of it. She'll be 5 in August for cryin' out loud! Again, I got "the" response. Of course.

2am, she shuffles in to our room. "Daddy, I can't find my bee-bee." Daddy rolls out of bed, trudges into her room to help her find it, it's usually buried under covers or on the floor between the bed and the wall. Only this time, it wasn't. He told her just to go to sleep, she'd live.

Until 3am, when she shuffles back in to the room. "Daddy, I still can't find my bee-bee."

"Go to bed, Rachel, you'll find it in the morning."

Tears. Little feet shuffling back to her bed, whimpering softly. My heart breaking, yet determined to stay strong. The child will not die if she has to make it through the rest of the night without a piece of plastic in her mouth.

Until 5am, when she shuffles to my side of the bed. I send her away. It hurt me, but I did it.

45 minutes later, she finds me downstairs making my coffee. "Mommy...."

I trudge upstairs to help her find the binky. I can't find it. Did she swallow the thing?? It is no where to be found, literally.

I think quickly and decide to use the opportunity, as any self-serving yet brilliant mother would.

"Rachel, do you know what this means?!?! You did it! You went a night without your binky! You're a big girl now!!!"

"I am?" comes the soft response, full of wonder, amazement, and verging on tears.

"Yes, you did!!" ((((Big hugs!!))))

She's not sure, but that's it, no turning back now. She got upset getting in the car to go to school, but I made sure to give hubby the "if you slip her the binky that I know you have hidden in your pocket, you will be sleeping on the couch for a week" look. And guess what? She did it! Again! All the way to school, no binky. On the ride home, she didn't even ask for it. And she hasn't asked for it since. Over four years of trying to get that thing away from her, and all it took was for it to literally disappear in the middle of the night. Why did I not think of that myself?!?!?

Honestly, I don't have a clue where it went. I've pulled her room apart, I can't find the silly thing. Maybe she's hidden it and pulls it out after I go to sleep, who knows. All I know is that I can see her smile and hear her voice, and it's the most beautiful thing ever.

One kid down, one to go....

I am Supergirl

A while back, Pepsi ran a promotion in conjunction with the Superman Returns movie, which included the big Superman "S" logo on the side of their cans. One night we had a friend over for dinner and he was teaching my daughter (who was not quite 3 at the time) that "S" was for Superman. After dinner, the two of them played Superman and Supergirl and for weeks after that, she would ask me, when she saw me drinking a Pepsi, if I was Supergirl, too. I was never sure how to answer, as I never quite felt like Supergirl... but to her, "Supergirl" just meant that I'd put on a pretend cape and pretend to fly around the house with her. To my little girl, I was Supergirl.

If you've read my past few blog posts, you'll know that I have recently quit smoking. This has been a HUGE step for me and though I'm only 2 weeks in, I really believe that finally, this is the time that's going to work for me. I was ready, I was motivated, and I'm doing it! Though I'm a perfectionist at heart and my own most critical reviewer (I always feel like no matter what I've done, I always could have done it a little bit better), I have to admit that with the smoking thing, I feel awesome about myself. There's nothing I could have done better, and I am so stinkin' proud!

This weekend I was shopping at my favorite discount store, on my way to the checkout. As I was walking by the aisle with the pocketbooks, I noticed a display of baseball caps. One in particular caught my attention... it was a navy blue hat with a big pink "S" logo on the front. Supergirl. The front of the brim was intentionally frayed in a few places, exposing pink underneath. Made the hat look loved and worn. It was a hat a young person would wear. This hat was cool!

I intended to keep walking toward the checkout, but I couldn't. I had to go see the hat. $9. Not bad. I picked it up. I tried it on. I found a mirror to see how it looked. I put it back. I picked it up again. Why couldn't I put this hat down? The debate started in my head:

"You really don't need another hat."

"But this hat is cute! I love this hat!"

"Superman? You've never even seen the movie!"

"I just got a raise and quit smoking. I deserve a treat. And besides, this hat is only $9. What's the big deal here?"

"Daughter is going to take this hat from you, you'll never get to wear it anyway."

"Fine, so if she loves it that much, I'll come back and buy her one, too."

I bought that hat. Of course, once I get started, I can't stop myself. I also picked up a $6 pink t-shirt to match it. Mind you, I've never really been a fan of pink. Too girly. But lately, I've been drawn to it. A few weeks ago, I even let Daughter (now age 4) talk me into buying a pink cell phone when I went to get my old one replaced. My sister just sent me a pink purse. And now, I choose a hat with a pink Superman logo, and then a pink t-shirt, too? What's going on with me?

So I take the Supergirl hat home. I put it on to show Hubby. I'm feeling pretty darn hip in this hat, I have to say. "You bought a ripped hat?" he asks me.

"Yes, I think it looks cool." He rolls his eyes, but admits the hat is nice.

I got thinking about it more and I've decided that this really is the perfect hat for me. Yes, folks, I am Supergirl. And not only to my 4-year-old. I am Supergirl to myself, and it feels pretty darn good. Though I've got some visible frays and scars on the outside, underneath is a beautiful person. On the outside I may be plain and not overly girly, but I am strong and amazing underneath. And right there in the middle, for everyone to see? Supergirl.

After quitting smoking I know this more than ever: I am capable of anything. I might not be invincible, but I know I can face any challenge head-on and nothing is too big to get through. I might fall down and get a few scrapes, but underneath, I am still strong and determined and yes, sometimes girly. Yes, I am Supergirl.

Proud to be.... Me

What a nice treat to have a day off in the middle of the week, don't you think? The Monday holidays are nice, as long weekends are good for travel and Sunday BBQs (since you don't need to go anywhere on Monday). But for me, the long weekends usually end up being just that... loooooooong weekends. You know, just one more day of doing chores and errands and other "necessary" stuff that makes the weekend less fun that it should be.

Since having a mid-week day off is such a rare treat, I decided to treat the 4th as a Freebie Day, instead of just one more day of chores and errands... everyone would get to do what they wanted to do, and not what was on Mom's to-do list.

For my (almost) 4-year-old, that meant 3 hours of playing dress-up in the morning, followed by a trip to the pool with Daddy. For my 1-year-old, that meant wreaking havoc all over the house, making messes, and eating, with a short break for a morning nap. For Hubby, that meant watching the History Channel and sports, while children crawled on his lap and asked, "Do you love my ballerina outfit, Daddy?" For me, that meant tackling thing #1 on my Next 5 Things list, cleaning out my craft closet.

The day went really well, and was capped off by both kids taking very long naps, which further facilitated the TV watching for hubby and the closet organizing for me. Woo hoo, what a day!!

Both kids fell asleep late in the afternoon, and were still asleep at 8:45pm. We had promised the 4-year-old a 4th of July picnic while watching the fireworks, so Hubby and I woke up both kids for our promised Family Fun Time.

Fireworks are legal in Florida (you can buy them from giant tents on every street corner), so lots of people put on their own shows. We have a really great setup in our house, in that our master bedroom (on the 2nd floor) has a 9-foot picture window from which we can see fireworks shows for 3 neighboring towns, plus all the fireworks the neighbors are doing. We've decided that, at least until the kids are older, our master bedroom is the best vantage point for the displays.

Our "picnic" was set up on our bed, a king size, so plenty of room for 2 parents, 2 kids and a dog. We spread out a blanket and feasted on chicken nuggets, Cheerios and popcorn. This was an especially good treat for the kids on two counts... eating on the bed and also, no vegetables!

My 4-year-old oohed and aahed at the fireworks, and proudly announced the color of each. "Did you see that big purple one, Mom? Hey Dad, there was a giant green one!" The baby, well, she did what she does best... ate and smiled and ate and smiled and ate some more. I popped in a Lee Greenwood CD, belted out "Proud to be an American" (one of my favorites) and taught my 4-year-old about the meaning of July 4th, how it's America's birthday.

I'm about as patriotic as they come. I donate to military organizations, proudly display the flag and look for ways to better my country. I won't get in to all of it here, but I really, truly am proud to be an American, and I don't take the freedoms I enjoy for granted.

At one point, I went downstairs to get a drink and when I came back up and walked into the bedroom, I found my husband and my 2 girls dancing in front of the window to the music of the Lee Greenwood CD. The big one was laughing at Daddy trying to remember all the words, the little one was laughing because the big one was laughing, and Hubby was laughing because the girls both were. I don't think they knew I was there, but I stood in the doorway and watched them dance and smile and laugh until the song was over. This, folks, is what I'm most proud of... this display of love and happiness, right in my very own home. The 4th of July is great, the fireworks are spectacular, and it's a good time to stop and celebrate all that we, as Americans, have been blessed with. But as I watched my family watching those fireworks, I was reminded of all that I have to be proud of not only on the 4th of July, but every single day of the year. I'm married to a wonderful man, we have 2 wonderful children (and a wonderful dog, too!). We've got food to eat and a house to live in, and enough money in the bank to pay all the bills. I credit a lot of this to the fact that we are Americans, that we have the freedom to make our own choices, and that we have chosen wisely... in our educations, our careers and in each other. But there's a part of me that's going to be even more selfish than that, and say that I had a lot to do with this, too. I'm so proud to be who I am... a wife, a mother, a sister, a friend. And watching the three people I love most dance and try to sing along reminded me to stop and remember that, not just on the 4th of July, but every single day. I hope you stop to think about all you have, not only because you're an American, but because you worked for it and you deserve it. I encourage you to be a Proud American, but also to be a Proud You.