Are you Happy, Mommy?

4 Comments January 27, 2015 drworobec

My little girl, who is a month shy of three years old, is sugary-sweet and firecracker combined into a 30-lb package. My hopes and dreams for her span far and wide. She’s taught me things that no one else could. She thinks I hung the moon. She’s a “Mommy’s girl” through and through.

Lately, she’s been asking me this question a lot:

“Are you happy, Mommy?”

Usually it gets asked after her or her brother have been disciplined. Sometimes she asks me in the darkness of the night, when her little voice has called me to take her to the bathroom. But once in a while it’s an out-of-the-blue, regular conversation question.

Most of the time, my answer is yes. And it’s a genuine yes; I’m blessed to live a happy life. But sometimes the answer is no. No, I’m not happy that you just had a temper tantrum about which pants to wear. Or threw your fork across the room. Or hit your brother. In those instances, I explain that I’m not happy about what’s just happened. But what about the times when I’m just having a tough day and she can read it on my face?

From time to time, I struggle with my answer. Her bright eyes peer at me, her head tilts, her concerned brow questions. Am I happy?

Do I shield her two-year-old heart from negative emotion and keep her safe and secure in a world of only happiness and good outcomes?
Or do I show her the real-life stuff and teach her that emotions, both good and bad, can ebb and flow?

I choose the latter.

I think it’s important that children see their parents be sad and disappointed and frustrated. Upset. Worried. Troubled. And yes, even angry. But I think it’s even more important that children see their parents handle these emotions constructively.

My kids see me cry.

My kids see me get excited.

My kids see me yell.

My kids see me laugh.

Emotion is a part of life, so it is the process of learning to deal with that emotion that will serve them well.

“Are you happy, Mommy?”

Yes, my sweet girl, more than you’ll ever know.

A Jar Full of Rocks. Oh, and Garth Brooks.

2 Comments January 13, 2015 drworobec

Remember the story of the philosophy professor who filled a jar with rocks and asked his students if it was full? Then he added pebbles, and the students again agreed it was full. Then he added sand, and the sand filled the empty spaces, and the jar truly became full (you can read the extended story here if you don’t know what I’m talking about). The professor was using the jar and its contents as a symbol of life and priorities- the rocks signify the ‘big stuff’ like health and family, the pebbles signify the ‘medium stuff’ like work and school, and the sand signifies the ‘small stuff’ like material possessions. If you put the sand into the jar first you will have no room for anything else.

Let’s use that to segue into how I view my children: they’re like little beautiful jars just waiting to be filled up. And it’s my job to fill them up.

I didn’t always feel this way. In fact, probably barely a decade ago, I wondered if I’d ever have children, if I would ever want to have children. I thought the maternal instinct had bypassed me, and I was all-consumed in myself and building my future. Then I became a mother and the sand dumped out of the jar to make room for the rocks.

So I’ve very carefully set up my life geared towards this goal. My kids are little scrapbooks that I’m filling up with memories. They’re the empty canvas and I’m the artist painting the brushstrokes of the masterpieces they will become. I’m get-out-there-and-DO-it instead of get-out-there-and-BUY-it, presence more than presents, quality above quantity.

10858541_10152843543854471_6495128043893961174_n

Why the mush and gush today? Well, it’s all Garth Brooks’ fault.

You see, I’ve got tickets to his March 7th show, and the country girl in me has been out in full force. Even if you’re not a country music fan or a Garth Brooks fan (gasp!), have a listen to this song (click here to hear ‘Mom’) and I think you’ll feel the emotion too.

“Cause there’s someone down there waiting whose only goal in life is making sure you’re always gonna be alright”.

True.

Christmas Presence: A Poem

4 Comments December 9, 2014 drworobec

I don’t have a blog for you, this week’s a cheesy poem.
I’m writing this one by the dim light of my phone.
It’s late in my house now, and I’ve been busy you see,
Hiding Elf on the Shelf and making Christmas cookies.

I’m finding it tricky to balance it all,
With the stress of December and the trips to the mall.
My son, almost six, wants Thor and a sword,
And I’m not big on weapons, please help me, oh Lord.

My daughter, she’s two, and she wants just one thing:
A pink kitty necklace and its bright sparkly bling.
Don’t forget about parents, and yes there’s my hubby,
Nieces and nephews and stockings to make chubby.

And there’s holiday cards I get made with our pics,
I send more than one hundred, lots of envelope licks.
And then there’s the tree and of course Christmas lights,
My decor is less homey, more cheery and bright.

I have written blogs lately, on weight belts and my run,
On concussion and movement and of course on my hun.
On school kids and snatches and on being 35,
It’s true, after that one, my email’s on overdrive.

But if I’m being honest, I’ve been quite distracted,
I’m in the business of magic and my time’s been impacted.
You see this year I’m Santa, and the magic is planned.
My kids believe fully and they truly understand.

I’m in the midst of those years that are few and are priceless,
Where if we don’t leave out cookies there could be a crisis.
They see Christmas miracles in the simplest of stuff
And of holiday carols they can’t get enough.

So I’m drinking them in and I’m soaking them up,
Their gifts are very few but our outings fill their cup.
Because it’s presence, you see, that is a gift all year through
Not presents in December that will have to make due.

So take a walk down the street and link arm in arm,
Tell your honeys you love them and they’ll keep you warm.
I wish for you family and happiness and friends,
This holiday season and right to the end.