Steamed Milk & Second Chances

Very little matters to me at the end of each day and the end of this life, if my girls don't know and feel, clear to the cellular level of their beings, that I love them. If there was a way to genetically imprint this message into their DNA, I would. 

I LOVE YOU. 

Sometimes things happen and maybe it's as inconsequential as a rainy Monday when the errands didn't go right and I end up in tears when we get home. Maybe it's bigger and I vent frustration, and while my words are accurate, the timing or the delivery misses the mark and a little girl gets tucked into a warm bed -- safe, fed, yet short on the connection she's come to cherish in our relationship.

It was a night like that, after a rainy Monday like that.

I closed their bedroom doors, and went to rest, somewhere past the point of totally exhausted. I put them to bed early because after a rainy Monday when you're past the point of totally exhausted, it's the easiest thing to do. 

But kids are just like adults, in that when things aren't right with their relationships, it can be hard to sleep.

Daughter #1 made a valiant effort -- lying quietly in her bed long past when I thought she was for sure asleep. Long past the point that Daughter #2 had been allowed back up for snuggles with the mama-with-the-half-mast-eyes. 

There might have been a bit of classic Winnie the Pooh on DVD in the big bed. 

I was ready to send them back to bed when I heard a little voice say, "I hate to tell you this, Mommy, but I'm hungry."

....deep breath....

We went back to the kitchen. Sat back down at the wooden table inherited from my paternal grandma. Two little girls in pajamas, one holding a doll, one, a bunny, both of which are well-loved to the point of Real.

My legs throbbed from referred spinal pain. It felt more like 2 a.m. than 10 p.m. 

I got out the toaster. 

A gallon of milk.

Two small glass tea plates.

Something in my spirit shifted, and I set about making a little late-night snack of cranberry-orange toast and warm vanilla milk.

I told them memories of visiting my maternal grandma and how she would heat milk for me to sip before we turned in.

Their sweet faces brightened, and their eyes began to glaze with dreaminess as they munched their toast spread with cream cheese, and drank their cobalt mugs of steaming milk.

At that moment, I knew this was the right way to parent. This night, for these girls, these hearts. The right way to love them was to send them to bed with hearts dosed full with love and nostalgia, warm, full tummies, and snuggles in the rocking recliner.

I'm grateful for the times when bad days get second chances, and second bedtimes lead to sweet dreams.

The Other Kind of Teenager: Thoughts on Raising Great Kids

This evening on the way home from my daughter Hannah's ballet class, we stopped for a few groceries. The couple behind us in line were discussing a teenage girl. "If she was mine, I'd take her phone away and make sure she was so busy she had no time for boys."

Their tone implied they had little respect for teenagers.

We put our groceries on the conveyor belt, and Hannah moved our things forward and put a divider up so the people behind us could add their groceries. The expressions on their faces was priceless. "Wow!" They exclaimed. "That was nice!"

The lady asked me how old Hannah is.

"She's eight."

The lady's reply was predictable and disappointing. "Enjoy her now while she's still sweet."

There was a beat and then Hannah politely stated, "Actually, we think I'm going to be nice all along. I'm going to be the other kind of teenager."

Their faces again looked stunned. They then told her they thought that was wonderful.

Please don't underestimate the power you have, whether you're a parent or not, of setting kids up to be great teenagers and adults, or setting them up to believe their roles as teens is to be impossible, rude, and irresponsible.

As a society, it's time to change the message we're sending to our youth. Today's kids are tomorrow's law-makers, teachers, physicians, social workers, scientists, nurses, parents, and much much more.

Let's start with the kids in our own homes and communities. Let's begin instilling this message: "I see so much potential in you. I know you are going to go far and do great things. I'm excited to see all of the compassion and kindness you will give the world. You have purpose."

A Baby with a Name

{our sweet firstborn, touched by loss at a young age}

Six years ago today I went to the hospital, pregnant with a baby with no heartbeat. Some hours later I went home to my pig-tailed firstborn, not quite two years old, no longer expecting our second, a baby we were going to name Benjamin Jack or Sierrah Grace.

Some weeks later, in the beginning stages of grief, Jonathan and I decided to name our lost baby. I have never shared that name publicly. It has felt too personal to me, too sacred.

We named our sweet little one Jordan.

Jordan means "Descendant" which I loved because this was our child, whether we got to keep him (?) or not. Jordan can be a boy name or a girl name, and although we have always felt our baby was a boy, we have no proof of that and no way to know.

I loved that it is a Hebrew name, just as Hannah is. I liked that even in death, they shared something.

I also loved that this baby, so wanted and so loved, had a name that began with the same letter as both of his parents.

So there's no birth certificate, no hospital baby bracelet, no ink-stamped little footprints, no announcement picture. But there's another child in my heart. Not just Hannah and Natalie, but Hannah, Jordan and Natalie. I have two living children; two here to hold and to raise, and a third I hold in my heart.

Jordan Lynn: carried in my womb for 10 weeks; carried in my heart for a lifetime.

Never forgotten, not for a day. Particularly remembered every year on this date, November 10th.

Bricks & Mortar: Thoughts on Raising Children

Between the physical and mental raising of our children, we must also diligently tend to their emotional needs.

Like mortar between bricks, there must be love and affirmation. 

I love you.
I'm proud of you.

These things glue the feeding and housing and education basics together into a stable structure.

Love isn't superfluous. It's not weak. It is necessary for building healthy, strong relationships.

Without love, verbalized and shown, a harsh wind shakes the bricks and what we've tried to build comes crashing down.