The Invasion

Here's the final piece I wrote for Mamalode that was not chosen for publication. This one was written for the theme "space."

The Invasion


“I’m going to take a shower now. No hitting, fighting or screaming, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy,” says my eldest.

Before the water gets hot, before I can even heave my pregnant self behind the curtain they are here- invading my space. Three beings crammed into the smallest room in the house. 

There’s been a quarrel. One is screaming about a Barbie. The other is crying, “Pick up you! Pick up, mama!”

Against my better judgment, I get in the shower. A struggle begins with the little one; repeated attempts to keep the shower curtain closed. I ultimately lose the battle.

Her big sister wonders aloud if it’s snack time; it’s been 20 minutes since breakfast.

And then, all of a sudden, silence. I am alone again. When I emerge from the bathroom, there they are together, curled up in my bed, quietly turning pages of a storybook. All is forgiven.

Crash & The Bloody Mess

Here's another essay I wrote for Mamalode Magazine that wasn't chosen for publication. I wrote this one about a year ago. It details one of those mama mishaps that is only funny when you have completely removed yourself from the situation.

I should’ve known something like this could happen. Crazy stuff happens to kids every day but aside from a few scraped knees and an ear infection, our life as parents was, for the most part, stress-free. Up until recently, we had escaped major trauma. I wasn’t expecting, nor prepared for, another one so soon. And all fingers would’ve pointed to the accident happening to our youngest, a.k.a. “Crash.”  That morning the girls and I went to the bouncy castle playgroup.  While the girls played, I found myself in a conversation with a mom acquaintance; I described for her the many differences between our cautious, older daughter and her accident prone sister.  Ironically, just seconds later, I ate my words.

There was a scream. I watched as my older daughter ran towards me crying, both hands covering her face. I remained calm, guessing she had bitten her tongue and perhaps just needed a hug. When I pulled her hands away, there was blood. I pried her mouth open and my face drained of color. One of her top front teeth was gone; a gaping hole in its place. How did this happen? Three year olds don’t lose teeth, they cut off their hair, right?!? Then I remembered Crash. In a mere 10 seconds she had climbed atop a nearby table. My mom acquaintance jumped in and offered to look after her while I tended to the Bloody Mess. I was trying my damnedest not to let my daughter know I was scared. I wanted to look for her tooth, but the other mom knew better. They don’t glue teeth back in, she said. I called my husband at work, he’d know what to do, right? Cool-headed Daddy phoned the dentist. They said to bring her immediately, they were about to break for lunch but would wait. I thanked the other mom and made a hasty retreat. We had only driven a block or so when the Bloody Mess in the back seat spoke up. Where are we going mama? I told her we were meeting Daddy at the dentist. But why, mama? My teef feel more better now. Through my tears, I managed to laugh. I told her the dentist just wanted to look and make sure everything was alright. Oh, can I have a lollipop? She may have been over it, but I wasn’t.

The scene at the dentist’s was not my proudest moment. I cried, especially when the dentist told me her other front tooth would have to be pulled; it was hanging on by a thread. Cool-headed Daddy took a picture of the Bloody Mess and posted it to Facebook. Check out my new smile, the caption read. We were free to go. Baby teeth are baby teeth, they told us, even if they fall out three years too soon. The tooth fairy was coming to our house!?!

The Bloody Mess likes that there are two fewer teeth to floss every night. She eats whatever she wants without inhibition or difficulty. Periodically, she asks when her new teeth are coming in, but six months has passed and she rarely mentions it now. We were flooded with kind words from friends who saw the Facebook post. “She’s still as beautiful as ever” and “An accident like this builds character” were some of the responses. While accidents may build character, it definitely adds a few grey hairs to a mama’s head and left me yearning for a stiff drink and a Valium.

In preparation for a little more traffic here (scary!) due to my essay going live on Mamalode's new website later this week, I've decided to share a few pieces I submitted for publication but were not chosen. I still like them and hope you do too.

This first one I wrote in June of 2011 when R.C. was almost one. We have since graduated the oldest from preschool and she will begin kindergarten in exactly four short weeks. I am fairly certain that letting go will always be a difficult part of parenting for me. Even with baby T.J. re-setting the clock back to zero this past spring, sending the big girl off to all-day school feels like a HUGE milestone. Hope I'm ready!

Letting go while clinging tightly

Every morning when I gaze upon my sleepy-eyed daughters,

I am one day closer to letting go.

A surprise revelation- the baby has been out longer than she was in.

She is very close to pulling herself up to stand, and one day soon will turn from my arms and walk away.

In a matter of weeks, big sister will walk into a classroom for her first morning of preschool.  She will begin a life that doesn’t include me, she will begin letting go.

We just bought a “big-girl” bike and we are once again planning a first birthday party- the months have passed quickly, the perpetual forward motion of our day-to-day lives.

While I reflect upon the milestones that too quickly pass, while I learn what it means to let go, I teach my girls this:  mama will always be here when you need to come back.

Here is  my photo for With a Little Moxie's Monday Montage of photos. This is baby T.J., the third (and final) of my three little princesses. She is 13 weeks old and a joy to have around. LOVE her smile and hope you do too!