"For you, there'll be no more crying,
For you, the sun will be shining,
And I feel that when I'm with you,
It's alright, I know its right
And the songbirds are singing,
Like they know the score,
And I love you, I love you, I love you
Like never before"
All of my babies have been "assigned" songs... special songs that Mommy can sing to them that have special significance. For Kayla, it is "You are so Beautiful" by Joe Crocker and "Somewhere out there" by Linda Rodstant. When she was about two we would sing "You are so beautiful" together... it is only really a few lines long and repeats itself so it was easy for her to sing... later on I gifted her with a carousel horse my dad had given me as a child that played "somewhere out there"... she was so in love with the horse and the song that it was added to our collection.
For TJ, when I was pregnant I had bought a Disney lullaby cd and played it quite a bit, even putting headphones on my belly. After he was born I discovered that if I hummed one of those tunes, he would calm down almost instantly. As a result, his songs became "Baby Mine" and "Dream"... to this day if he is upset or sick he will ask me to sing "Baby Mine".
Jaiden's song is "You are my Shining Star"... he frequently asks to hear it and is thrilled when we listen to it on my iPod in the kitchen while he is helping me cook.
Ava has "songbird" by Fleetwood Mac... it is so sweet and fitting. Rodney has bestowed his own Daddy song onto her.. "Unforgettable" and that song soothes her when we play it for her.
So, here you go, Kayla bear... the answer to your question in my last post. :-)
Showing posts with label momhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label momhood. Show all posts
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Reasons I love being a Mom...
The last few days have been trying and tiresome, so I thought I would focus on some happy things..
1) Patty-baby's deep belly laugh, it could melt anyone's heart
2) Contests on who loves who more
3) "girl time" with Kayla
4) The Incredible Hulk
5) first word's being "mama"
6) children that love me enough that they supported me during the hardest part of laboring with their sister
7) Jaiden's sillyness
8) TJ's affection
9) Kayla's master macchiato making
10) bath time
11) sour milky baby breath
12) "Baby Mine", "you are my shining star", "somewhere out there" and "songbird"
13) pile-on Mommy's bed, aka co-sleeping
14) bread baking with Kayla
15) bed jumping
16) excited springtime smiles
17) sloppy, slobbery kisses
18) sibling loveys
19) fat cheekies
20) dancing in the kitchen
21) afternoons in the park
22) bedtime stories
23) sleepy heads on Mommy's shoulder
24) silky baby skin
25) goodnight kisses
1) Patty-baby's deep belly laugh, it could melt anyone's heart
2) Contests on who loves who more
3) "girl time" with Kayla
4) The Incredible Hulk
5) first word's being "mama"
6) children that love me enough that they supported me during the hardest part of laboring with their sister
7) Jaiden's sillyness
8) TJ's affection
9) Kayla's master macchiato making
10) bath time
11) sour milky baby breath
12) "Baby Mine", "you are my shining star", "somewhere out there" and "songbird"
13) pile-on Mommy's bed, aka co-sleeping
14) bread baking with Kayla
15) bed jumping
16) excited springtime smiles
17) sloppy, slobbery kisses
18) sibling loveys
19) fat cheekies
20) dancing in the kitchen
21) afternoons in the park
22) bedtime stories
23) sleepy heads on Mommy's shoulder
24) silky baby skin
25) goodnight kisses
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Dedication: The Prequel
My stepbabies:
When my husband and I met he was 11 years older than me, divorced with full custody of his 3 children (ages 3, 7 and 8 at the time). He made no comments to me at any point that when/if we were to marry that he'd like me to act as his children's mother, and I would say I had no pressure to do so. When we married I told the kids they were welcome to call me whatever they would like (as long as it was respectful). So if they wanted to continue to call me "Janelle" then that was totally ok. Within a month's time, I was "Mommy".
This is not to say that I have or had ever replaced their "real" mother. I don't think that could ever be possible, nor did I expect that.
Being a step-parent... well, it's damn hard and I think the only ones who truly understand that are the ones that have played that role. You contend with children that first realize they are not biologically connected to you and who long to have a connection with their biological parent (despite how close you may be)... when you arrive on the scene you are not molding a newborn baby, rather you are thrown into the loop with already molded minds that are used to certain ways, forms of discipline, rules, etc.
I believe that there were times when my stepkids appreciated my presence. Their dad had funny rules that I quickly put an end to. One, was the "no drinking until you finish your food" rule. I had taken B, my stepdaughter, out to lunch one day. While we sat waiting for our food I sipped my iced tea while she eyed her root beer. "B, you know you can drink that right??".. "Daddy doesn't let me before I finish my food". Me *eye roll*: "Uh... well, you know that you can always get a refill if you drink it all". Her eyes lit up... and thus I ended the silly drink rule. Othertimes it was blaringly obvious that B, the only daughter, had not had a woman's presence around in sometime. She was surprised to see that grown women had "hair down there" and didn't know you needed to place a toilet seat cover on the toilet in a public bathroom. When I gave birth to K, she was shocked and confused to see me breastfeed the new baby.
In no way have I been perfect, though.. in the early days I was quick to lose my temper and yell and easily stressed. I have vastly improved over the years to everyone's relief and have almost lost my "sailor mouth" entirely. However, I have always loved those three little hooligan's no matter what.
B, with her sassy-frassy mouth and attitude.. we would frequently bond over "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and our homemade late-night Mexican food creations. She has assisted me the last two times I have given birth, acting as a doula of sorts. Just 15 months ago I had the honor to assist her in ushering in her first baby, a sweet daughter, whom was birthed into my hands while she baptized my bare feet in a rush of amniotic fluid. I have watched B grow from an uncertain, mouthy girl to a beautiful young woman and mother. Now I have a chubby faced granddaughter to watch grow, as well.
Jr.. he is definitely his own creation. He has a passion for knowledge and a big forgiving heart. I think and worry about him daily and anticipate the day when he matures into the responsible young man that I know is waiting inside of him. These days he is into music and has found a skill for playing the guitar. He recently called up proudly to annouce he could play "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac, knowing that is one of my favorite groups and songs.
J.. my baby boy. My first baby boy, that is. When he was 4 he spent the night at my house one night and ended up sick, throwing up all over my living room floor. I did what my mother would have done for me.. bathed him and put him into my bed (much to his father's disappointment for the night ahead...). As we cuddled up together he said to me, "Danelle??" (he could never say the Ja).. "Me: "Yes, baby?", J: "Are you going to marry my daddy??", Me: "I hope so".. J: "Good, I have always wanted a Mommy". *insert aaaaaawwwwws and tears here* Despite the fact he is an ownry, arrogant, pigheaded and egotistical almost 16 year old (that is putting it lightly.. the boy is definitely full of himself!!) he still holds a special place in my heart and reminds me of that sweet little guy who would stroke my hair while asking me to marry him. Today he loves singing and is involved in a myriad of choir activities along with being an excellent football player. I know the future holds great things in store for him.
So, there we go... my kiddos. All 7 of them. Motherhood and life holds many challenges and obstacles, but they all definitely make it worthwhile.
When my husband and I met he was 11 years older than me, divorced with full custody of his 3 children (ages 3, 7 and 8 at the time). He made no comments to me at any point that when/if we were to marry that he'd like me to act as his children's mother, and I would say I had no pressure to do so. When we married I told the kids they were welcome to call me whatever they would like (as long as it was respectful). So if they wanted to continue to call me "Janelle" then that was totally ok. Within a month's time, I was "Mommy".
This is not to say that I have or had ever replaced their "real" mother. I don't think that could ever be possible, nor did I expect that.
Being a step-parent... well, it's damn hard and I think the only ones who truly understand that are the ones that have played that role. You contend with children that first realize they are not biologically connected to you and who long to have a connection with their biological parent (despite how close you may be)... when you arrive on the scene you are not molding a newborn baby, rather you are thrown into the loop with already molded minds that are used to certain ways, forms of discipline, rules, etc.
I believe that there were times when my stepkids appreciated my presence. Their dad had funny rules that I quickly put an end to. One, was the "no drinking until you finish your food" rule. I had taken B, my stepdaughter, out to lunch one day. While we sat waiting for our food I sipped my iced tea while she eyed her root beer. "B, you know you can drink that right??".. "Daddy doesn't let me before I finish my food". Me *eye roll*: "Uh... well, you know that you can always get a refill if you drink it all". Her eyes lit up... and thus I ended the silly drink rule. Othertimes it was blaringly obvious that B, the only daughter, had not had a woman's presence around in sometime. She was surprised to see that grown women had "hair down there" and didn't know you needed to place a toilet seat cover on the toilet in a public bathroom. When I gave birth to K, she was shocked and confused to see me breastfeed the new baby.
In no way have I been perfect, though.. in the early days I was quick to lose my temper and yell and easily stressed. I have vastly improved over the years to everyone's relief and have almost lost my "sailor mouth" entirely. However, I have always loved those three little hooligan's no matter what.
B, with her sassy-frassy mouth and attitude.. we would frequently bond over "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and our homemade late-night Mexican food creations. She has assisted me the last two times I have given birth, acting as a doula of sorts. Just 15 months ago I had the honor to assist her in ushering in her first baby, a sweet daughter, whom was birthed into my hands while she baptized my bare feet in a rush of amniotic fluid. I have watched B grow from an uncertain, mouthy girl to a beautiful young woman and mother. Now I have a chubby faced granddaughter to watch grow, as well.
Jr.. he is definitely his own creation. He has a passion for knowledge and a big forgiving heart. I think and worry about him daily and anticipate the day when he matures into the responsible young man that I know is waiting inside of him. These days he is into music and has found a skill for playing the guitar. He recently called up proudly to annouce he could play "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac, knowing that is one of my favorite groups and songs.
J.. my baby boy. My first baby boy, that is. When he was 4 he spent the night at my house one night and ended up sick, throwing up all over my living room floor. I did what my mother would have done for me.. bathed him and put him into my bed (much to his father's disappointment for the night ahead...). As we cuddled up together he said to me, "Danelle??" (he could never say the Ja).. "Me: "Yes, baby?", J: "Are you going to marry my daddy??", Me: "I hope so".. J: "Good, I have always wanted a Mommy". *insert aaaaaawwwwws and tears here* Despite the fact he is an ownry, arrogant, pigheaded and egotistical almost 16 year old (that is putting it lightly.. the boy is definitely full of himself!!) he still holds a special place in my heart and reminds me of that sweet little guy who would stroke my hair while asking me to marry him. Today he loves singing and is involved in a myriad of choir activities along with being an excellent football player. I know the future holds great things in store for him.
So, there we go... my kiddos. All 7 of them. Motherhood and life holds many challenges and obstacles, but they all definitely make it worthwhile.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Moms don't get sick days
You didn't know that when you signed up, did you??
This past week I have found myself bed-ridden with a sinus infection that would not quit. I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers, down a bottle of Nyquil and escape into a cold medicine induced coma, so to speak. But, alas, there are still kids that want Mommy, diapers to be changed, babies to be nursed, phones that ring, dinner to be made, sinks that don't look so shiny any more when Mom doesn't have the energy to get up......
*sigh*
This past week I have found myself bed-ridden with a sinus infection that would not quit. I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers, down a bottle of Nyquil and escape into a cold medicine induced coma, so to speak. But, alas, there are still kids that want Mommy, diapers to be changed, babies to be nursed, phones that ring, dinner to be made, sinks that don't look so shiny any more when Mom doesn't have the energy to get up......
*sigh*
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Daughters
A short time ago I decided that I would like to try my hand at making some homemade bread.. in other words, bread without using a bread machine, a new task for me. I enlisted the help of my daughter, Kayla, and we went to work that rainy Sunday making homemade buttermilk biscuits and challah bread. As we mixed and kneaded the bread I was reminded of the words of a dear friend who says while she makes bread she sends wishes, prayers and blessings into it so that while it bakes and the sweet aroma fills through the air she can envision those blessings going up into the heavens. As well, when the bread is eaten those prayers become a part of those who have partaken of it. (Now, granted, she said this much more eloquently than I ever could..)
So, as Kayla and I kneaded I told her of this and we whispered our secret blessings into our dough, braiding the ropes of sweet dough into intricate lacings that soon would become hot loaves of bread... this simple afternoon caused me to reflect on myself as a mother of daughters and what I am passing onto them.
What will my daughters remember of me when they have daughters of their own? I recall my mother having tea parties with me.. pretending that we were both grown women and friends having coversation over tea and cookies.. I remember learning how to make apple pie, the first homemade dessert I could ever claim.. then years later being entrusted with my grandmother's secret recipe that is sacred in our family. I reflect on early Saturday mornings, crawling into bed with my mother and basking in the warmth and security of her bed, wishing I never had to leave.. the smell of lavendar and sweet smell of her face powder that always lingered in the bathroom.
I hope that I am and can be the mother who imparts wisdom onto her daughters.. daughters that grow up with the sacred knowledge of their own bodies, something that only I can guide them to but they must ultimately discover... I hope that I leave them with warm memories of feeling loved, safe and secure and beautiful... memories of how I braided their hair, made their favorite cookies and kissed their soft, warm cheeks.. I wish to be the mother whose daughters one day reflect back on with the hope they can pass on similar things to their own children..
These things I wish for, I may never know.. I may never know their true feelings, just as for some reason I have never shared with my own mother.. like secrets we wish into bread, untold but becoming a warm part of us.
So, as Kayla and I kneaded I told her of this and we whispered our secret blessings into our dough, braiding the ropes of sweet dough into intricate lacings that soon would become hot loaves of bread... this simple afternoon caused me to reflect on myself as a mother of daughters and what I am passing onto them.
What will my daughters remember of me when they have daughters of their own? I recall my mother having tea parties with me.. pretending that we were both grown women and friends having coversation over tea and cookies.. I remember learning how to make apple pie, the first homemade dessert I could ever claim.. then years later being entrusted with my grandmother's secret recipe that is sacred in our family. I reflect on early Saturday mornings, crawling into bed with my mother and basking in the warmth and security of her bed, wishing I never had to leave.. the smell of lavendar and sweet smell of her face powder that always lingered in the bathroom.
I hope that I am and can be the mother who imparts wisdom onto her daughters.. daughters that grow up with the sacred knowledge of their own bodies, something that only I can guide them to but they must ultimately discover... I hope that I leave them with warm memories of feeling loved, safe and secure and beautiful... memories of how I braided their hair, made their favorite cookies and kissed their soft, warm cheeks.. I wish to be the mother whose daughters one day reflect back on with the hope they can pass on similar things to their own children..
These things I wish for, I may never know.. I may never know their true feelings, just as for some reason I have never shared with my own mother.. like secrets we wish into bread, untold but becoming a warm part of us.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
..or shall we say beyond it?
Well, here we go... I had a blog in the past, however it has been awhile. I realize it does me some good so I have decided to start again.
What is a babymoon, you ask? It is akin to a honeymoon after marriage. A period of quiet and bliss to be experienced after the birth of a new baby. After baby number 4 arrived this past summer, I should be saying I am "beyond the babymoon" and shall never experience another. As irony would have it, here I am again for the fourth time, with spirit babies knocking on me door, beckoning me to welcome one of them some day.
I can hardly believe it myself... here I was just a mere year ago, puking my entire being out daily. My then 5 year old saying to his Daddy, "I wish Mommy wasn't pregnant". Daddy had to explain that Mommy had to be sick in order for him to be born too. Pregnancy number 4 was by far the hardest. By week 24 I was visiting the chiropractor 1-2 times a week, week 28 I stopped working due to pubic symphysis separation. I was the largest I had ever been and by 32 weeks I was being asked by strangers if it was "any day now". However, after 18 long hours of labor I birthed my sweet baby girl into her father's waiting hands in our own home... mere feet away from where she was conceived. Nothing can compare to that bliss. The feel of her warm slipperyness... the sweet smell of amniotic fluid... gazing into her alert eyes, unhindered by bright lights, loud noises or drugs in either of our systems. Ahhh.... so amazing!
But, as I sit here after midnight with 3 out of my 4 little ones still awake, struggling for just a few moments of quiet to get a small piece of mind to write... I question my sanity as my 4 year old trudges up the stairs barely holding onto my 5 month old daughter... "Mommy, Ava is crying!" and my heart jumps into my throat in fear of him dropping her. This being only a few hours after the same little 4 year old boy decided to jump in and out of the pack-and-play and managed to fall and hit his eye...by morning it will be swollen and black. I hardly have time for a moment of sanity and here I am, thinking of one day having a fifth?? But then the sweetest of all happens minutes later... that same 4 year old walks over to me, hugging onto my arm, "Mommy I love you the biggest!".
Oh, ya... it's completely worth it.
What is a babymoon, you ask? It is akin to a honeymoon after marriage. A period of quiet and bliss to be experienced after the birth of a new baby. After baby number 4 arrived this past summer, I should be saying I am "beyond the babymoon" and shall never experience another. As irony would have it, here I am again for the fourth time, with spirit babies knocking on me door, beckoning me to welcome one of them some day.
I can hardly believe it myself... here I was just a mere year ago, puking my entire being out daily. My then 5 year old saying to his Daddy, "I wish Mommy wasn't pregnant". Daddy had to explain that Mommy had to be sick in order for him to be born too. Pregnancy number 4 was by far the hardest. By week 24 I was visiting the chiropractor 1-2 times a week, week 28 I stopped working due to pubic symphysis separation. I was the largest I had ever been and by 32 weeks I was being asked by strangers if it was "any day now". However, after 18 long hours of labor I birthed my sweet baby girl into her father's waiting hands in our own home... mere feet away from where she was conceived. Nothing can compare to that bliss. The feel of her warm slipperyness... the sweet smell of amniotic fluid... gazing into her alert eyes, unhindered by bright lights, loud noises or drugs in either of our systems. Ahhh.... so amazing!
But, as I sit here after midnight with 3 out of my 4 little ones still awake, struggling for just a few moments of quiet to get a small piece of mind to write... I question my sanity as my 4 year old trudges up the stairs barely holding onto my 5 month old daughter... "Mommy, Ava is crying!" and my heart jumps into my throat in fear of him dropping her. This being only a few hours after the same little 4 year old boy decided to jump in and out of the pack-and-play and managed to fall and hit his eye...by morning it will be swollen and black. I hardly have time for a moment of sanity and here I am, thinking of one day having a fifth?? But then the sweetest of all happens minutes later... that same 4 year old walks over to me, hugging onto my arm, "Mommy I love you the biggest!".
Oh, ya... it's completely worth it.
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