Fundamental Truths

A friend of mine posted this link on facebook and, as I opened it up and saw it was a 7-minute video, I nearly closed it, as I generally tend only to watch things that last about 3 minutes. My days are busy.

But I felt compelled to watch it. I started it up and the first 20 seconds already seemed important. And, as I watched the video unfold, something stirred in me. Tears almost immediately welled in my eyes, and the last couple minutes were pretty blurry going.

My wise, humble husband keeps an allotment of change in his car, which he gives to panhandlers, mainly at stop lights as they offer to clean his windows. Late last fall, with the cold of the arriving winter just around the corner, he thought of the young man we always ran into during our Saturday breakfast routine - the man with the kind eyes, selling tissues or sponges from an old duffle bag, who we always shared a couple words with. Andrea came home and gathered a bag of clothes and shoes for this young man and brought them to him that next weekend. In a slow, meaningful voice, Andrea explained to a questioning Sofia that he was helping the man out because the man didn't have a lot of material things, but he needed warm clothes to get through the winter.

Later on, to me, Andrea admitted that this life...this often dreary, lonely, stressful life...had little meaning to him if not that of helping others - or, more precisely, connecting with others.

This video speaks the same truth as my husband: we are, all of us, inter-connected, and thus reliant on one another. The kindness of strangers. And the more we attempt to live our lives for ourselves only, the more we feel the disconnect. It's true, just like this video describes...think of your moments of boredom, and the unmistakable, underlying melancholy that we automatically feel. Haven't you ever wondered why it's always there, just beneath the surface?

Have a look at this video and let me know what you think of it. I myself found it quite inspiring, I think you will too...

Upworthy video: Science has been misleading you about some fundamental truths

Crunchy parenting

I wouldn't describe myself as a particularly "crunchy" person. I drink soda, I've been known to watch mind-numbing tv on occasion, I own nothing made of hemp, and I hardly ever wear skirts (those all seem like requirements). But when it comes to parenting, I unconsciously seem to have taken that route.

At almost 17 months, Samina still nurses herself to sleep, right next to me in our co-sleeping bed. We went the path of baby-led weaning and so my girls have never so much as tasted jarred food. Almost all our vegetables come from my in-laws garden, the TV is hardly ever turned on but our bookshelves are overflowing, any non-rainy days are spent running around at the park with friends, otherwise we like to head to the library. I still carry Samina in her Ergo so she can nurse and sleep while I go for walks.

I know what you're thinking: crunchy crunch crunch. I've got so much granola in my teeth, I can go ahead and choke on it, right?

The thing is, I never meant to be this way. I didn't grow up in a crunchy household and I certainly never felt myself judging parents who let their kids watch "Toy Story" on repeat or passed off french fries as a vegetable at dinner. Not in the least - actually, if I pictured myself as a parent at all (which I really didn't until I was one), I figured I'd rely on a team of babysitters to put my children to sleep while I traipsed off to dinner and drinks with friends. Because that sounds amazing.

I haven't chosen to be this kind of mom because I think it's the superior way of parenting. It came as a natural progression, partly because of the influence of living in Europe, partly because of information from our trusted pediatrician, and also in part because of the person Andrea is. Mainly, though, because over time I have seen the positive effects these things have had on my girls.

The thing I wish I'd known though, before taking the leap into "crunchy" parenting - the disclaimer, amid all the crunchy beliefs being sold on the internet, in books, in pediatricians' offices, that should be discussed but is absolutely not even being mentioned: Doing all these things? Takes a lot of f&%$ing patience, and energy and - this is the main thing - long-term resolve. You need to do these things for a LONG TIME for them to be beneficial. It's not just "yes, I am going to let my kid co-sleep with me so she won't cry, then I'll move her to her own bed." I wish it was like that, I thought it was like that! Mothercracker! It's not like that!

If you (me, namely) don't want your kids to "cry it out", you have to keep them in your bed until they are ready to leave it. Otherwise? You (ME) better be prepared to spend night after night moving them out of your bed as they fall asleep, picking the crying them back up and calmly putting them back with you into your bed in the middle of the night 4, 5, 6 times in a row, reassuring them and then starting the process all over again.

Nursing? One day your kid may magically decide to stop but, if that kid is my daughter, she may actually increase feedings and begin using your nipple as a lovey. Pulling at it. In public.

Attachment parenting? Better be ready to do that shit for a long time, my friend, because if you're thinking your kid will attach after a year and then, poof, he'll stop and you can organize weekly dinner parties again, you're way off (or you're really rarely lucky and I hate you).

Baby-led weaning? Your kid will be eating food off your plate HIS WHOLE LIFE, once he gets used to it. Want that there to end so you can just eat your damn meal in peace? Talk to me in ten years. Unless you make him cry!

No TV? Well, your kids aren't just going to entertain themselves - not for more than 10 minutes anyway, as long as they're little. You'll then become like me, doing ALL THE THINGS in your house instead of taking a break and relaxing because the moment you actually sit down, boom, here comes your little girl asking you to play restaurant again for the six-hundredth time today.

Beware: pretty unsubtle observation ahead: Every decision you make has a consequence, good and bad. You know it to be true in normal (non-child) life, and it holds true (perhaps truer?) in your child-filled life. Yes, it's great that my kids love the outdoors, but man oh man are they difficult when it rains. Yup, it kind of sucks that you can't drink that big glass of sweet tea that you'd like because that would be a bad influence, but heck yeah my ped said my daughter doesn't have to sit through a dentist visit just yet because her teeth are perfect and cavity-free.

I am, holy lord, not judging you. I am not even judging myself, really, except to say that I made these "crunchy" parenting decisions a bit blindly, not understanding just how LONG the process takes. I don't regret them per se. I really do believe the outcome, for my girls, will be something along the lines of world domination (in a good way, involving flowers and donuts). But HELL ON WHEELS I think I could have been better prepared for the immense commitment it is to raise children thoughtfully and purposefully. Hell on wheels.

2-month "vacation"

As we come up upon the end of our 2-month hiatus here in the U.S. of A., I'm feeling...many things, including that ever-present nostalgia that creeps up at the end of any sort of life event.

We've done so much this stay. Down the shore at my aunt and uncle's house, in NYC with the whole family, a long weekend up in the Catskills with friends, Sesame Place, various and sundry parties and zoos, road trips and parks. And always always, evenings spent running around the backyard at my parents' house - searching for fireflies or inventing games on the slide or just listening to the two giggling sisters (who just moments before were fighting over who had the toy first).

Our original plan was for both the girls to go to day camp in the morning. That plan didn't quite pan out for Samina, who was not quite ready to be separated from us. Sofia, though - showing an amount of maturity I am utterly impressed with - was in the swing of things after just a day and a half, and spent her mornings making new friends and becoming more Americanized. She has improved her English by leaps and bounds, learning to use words like "otherwise" and "junk" and finally pronouncing "Hello Kitty" with an American accent (as opposed to "Ello Keety!"). We are so in awe of how well she took it all in, how she has put herself out there and adapted and is a whole new, broader, more wordly lady as a result of it. (Tantrums and all, mind you.)

And Samina. She ended up spending all her mornings with her Papà who - I suspect - has thoroughly enjoyed bonding with his Monkey despite the exhaustion and disappointment of not being able to get anything done all day amid his fathering duties (I've, through all this, continued to work full time from my laptop...). Samina has become even smilier, even sunnier - and also more obstinant than before. She is, truly, pure joy to all those who have the pleasure of coming into contact with her.

This is all not to say that there haven't been many difficulties this trip. Andrea and I are tired. Exhausted. And behind in everything we'd hoped to accomplish this summer. But we've sacrificed our time and attention for a clear purpose, our sole purpose as parents: to render our girls independent, open-minded, sensitive and thinking beings. And, now in almost-hindsight, I can honestly say that is precisely what has happened over these past two months.

None of this would of course have been possible without my parents, and so a shout-out to them. For hosting our craziness (and mess) for two months, for the fact that I haven't cooked one single meal since I got here, for taking us places, for reading stories to Sofia at bedtime and for trying to take Samina off our hands even though she wouldn't go.

And my other huge thank you goes, as always, to my husband. For not even thinking twice about taking over Daddy duties and giving up on our day camp hopes, despite your other plans and responsibilities, because you saw your little girl wasn't happy. For putting up with my attitude, for bringing me Starbucks surprises and for making me laugh even when I didn't want to.

On Saturday, we'll pack and then have family over for one last gathering, the cherry on top of a family-filled, fun-filled summer that, I believe, none of us will ever forget.

Happy Birthday, amore mio.

"Ci sono giorni nella vita in cui non succede niente, giorni che passano senza nulla da ricordare, senza lasciare una traccia, quasi non fossero vissuti. A pensarci bene, i più sono giorni così, e solo quando il numero di quelli che ci restano si fa chiaramente più limitato, capita di chiedersi come sia stato possibile lasciarne passare, distrattamente, tantissimi. Ma siamo fatti così: solo dopo si apprezza il prima e solo quando qualcosa è nel passato ci si rende meglio conto di come sarebbe averlo nel presente. Ma non c'è più."

"There are days in our lives when nothing happens, days which go by leaving nothing to remember and no trace of their passing, almost as though we hadn't lived them at all. Come to think of it, most days are like that. But when it dawns on us that the number of days we have left is limited, we wonder how we could possibly have let so many slip by unnoticed. But this is how we're made. Only afterwards do we appreciate what came before. Only when something is in the past do we understand what it would be like to have it in the present. But by then it's too late." 

-Tiziano Terzani-

Life Lessons

Yesterday, Sofia came home from preschool and told me that one of her best little girl pals said she was no longer her friend and uninvited her to her house.

And, though she was perfectly serene when she told me this tidbit, my heart stopped pumping. Then it shattered into tiny lifeless pieces of mush.

I can remember that feeling, all too well. Kids - girls especially - have such rabid mean streaks. A few sick days from school often meant coming back to a friendless recess or two. Wearing something, doing something, saying something out of the ordinary was a huge risk: it could either shoot you straight up to Leader of the Pack or could condemn you to four highschool years of ridicule.

I've been on all sides of it. The bully and the bullied. I've also been the Defender and the Wet Noodle/Coward who conveniently opted to - suddenly - mind my own business. I've been befriended, regaled with "BFF" stickers, and I've been coldly unfriended (was that a word before facebook?). I've been both backstabber and backstabbed, I've had a broken heart and given one.

All of this? Has made me a better person, I can say in all seriousness. Time, Age and, yes, Motherhood, have all made me acutely aware of the douche I've been in the past, and have allowed me to forgive my past aggressors without so much as a second thought.

But now. This, though, is too much. My baby girl, alone out there in the wild. Deciding on her own whether to turn the other cheek or growl back. Having to figure out for herself that it will all, in the end, be ok.

I didn't think about this when I decided to become a Mom. I thought/think about alcohol or drug abuse, about when she'll start driving, about the first time she'll get home after curfew and scare the living daylights out of us. But not this. I have to admit I, very naively, never thought of her battling her way through school and that big B word: Bullying.

Will she be strong enough to handle it? There are plenty of stories going around about girls who can't. Whose shame and embarassment and pain are too much for them to bear, who take their lives because they can't see the forest through the trees. Will my Sofia - sensitive, observant, curious soul that she is - have enough chutzpah to shove her way through it til she gets to the other side? Will she be able to figure out who her Real friends are and stick to them like glue? Will she find Real friends who will stand up for her and talk her down from that precarious ledge?

Will she recognize her worth?

Now, though, she is only 3 years old and, thank goodness, I still make the rules and set the tone around here. So, for the moment, my answer was "We'll call her mom and meet up with them for ice cream one of these days, ok? I know she will be happy to see you."

And, as I said it, I wished with all my being that that would always be enough. Unfortunately, though, I know it won't.

1 is the tiniest biggest number

The afternoon I took this picture was quintessential "Samina".

Dirt in your fingernails, picking daisies and putting them in my hand, carefully analyzing each one, looking to me for approval every time you *didn't* put one in your mouth.

Squealing with joy, arms up over your head at the birds flying above, as if you were trying to catch one.

Rebelliously ripping your hood off your head each time I slyly tried to pull it back up, afraid you were getting too cold.

Smiles from ear to ear at the arrival of your Papà and big sister.

Insisting you drink your water from a plastic cup, all by yourself, but then unwisely giving into temptation and crinkling up that cup, water and all, too enchanted by the sound it made.

And then, getting tired, whining til Mommy picked you up, sticking a thumb in your mouth and the other hand right down my shirt, searching for comfort.

Happy 1st birthday, my remarkable girl. Every day with you is a lesson in living. I am so lucky to be your Mommy.

We love you, Sami.

- Mommy, Papà & Sofi

To wean or not to wean.

With Samina's first birthday rapidly approaching (!!!!), I suddenly find myself in the eye of an important decision: weaning her from breastfeeding or not.

Do I continue? Or do I stop? And, if I stop, why am I stopping - because *I* want to, because *she* is ready? Or because people in general are telling me I should stop?

Before Samina, I was of the "if the baby can ask for it, it's time to stop" camp. Not that I really thought about it all that much, but if I saw an older child breastfeeding, or that famous cover of TIME magazine, I would have done a double-take or even, well, cringed on the inside.

But then I started breastfeeding. And now I ask myself questions like "Why did I cringe?" and "What is it about nursing that offends the general public so much, or at the very least gives them enough angst to have an opinion about it?"

I've already started getting unsolicited input about it. My mother-in-law has warned me about becoming one of "those" women who nurses for over a year. At a round-table discussion at Samina's daycare, a couple of the other moms declared that nursing for over a year would make me miserable. At a recent check-up with my ob/gyn, she raised an eyebrow when I said I was still nursing. A lot of people seem to have an opinion on this topic.

And me? What do I want?

When I got home from the round-table discussion, I cried. Because I'm not ready. Because Samina's not ready. Because those words, those opinions and judgements, are hurtful. And, mainly, confuse me. Andrea and I have put so much stock in going with our guts - with trying to follow a *natural* path with our daughters - that it doesn't make any sense to me...it feels right. It feels ok. It feels perfectly natural. And, while I do have a lot of thinking to do, because I really do believe that only when I wean her will we all finally sleep through the night, I also already know the answer. At least for now. Because, honestly, there are so few ways that we as parents are able to soothe our children, to give them the comfort they desperately crave. And she will only be little once, and I will only be able to give her this particular gift once, at a time in her life when all she longs for and needs is wrapped up in my role as a parent. So what is the sense in suddenly cutting her off?