The Weight of the World

Last night I heard one of the most profound things I've heard since I became a mom almost five years ago. It was the last evening of my 10-week parenting class and it was my instructor, Chris Glover, who spoke the words that have changed the way I see my role and job as a parent; "When you are raising your children you are also raising your grandchildren and great grandchildren." Take that in for a minute. Let the weight of that fall on your shoulders. 


The gravity and the truth of that statement hit me hard and almost took my breath away. Because it is true, isn't it? There is no manual on how to raise children, the only training we get is from our parents so we tend to raise our children the way our parents raised us. That's how traditions and customs are passed down from generation to generation. That's also how parenting... mistakes are passed on. 

We love our children with all our might; kiss them, hug them, sing and read to them, tell them how proud of them we are. We teach them the values our parents taught us, teach them the importance of education, hard work. Just like our parents did with us. We also lose our patience, forget they're just children, scream, and sometimes spank. Just like our parents did. And if we fail to correct those mistakes, those things will be passed down to future generations just like a dance, a story, a celebration. 

Now I realize that I am not just raising my children. I am raising their children as well. What I do now when my daughter cries for no reason, when my son disobeys me time and again, how I respond to their needs and demands, will have repercussions on generations to come. That's a heavy load to bear, I know, but having seen the truth I can't pretend to be blind to it. The weight of the future and the world is on our shoulders, each of us as parents. 

My husband Carlos, a loving daddy and husband. 

Thumb Guard Failure

I blogged about Camila's life-long thumb-sucking habit last November. After trying several things to get her to stop sucking her thumb we had finally reached the point of desperation. We bought the ThumbGuard and hoped it was $75 well spent.

The first night we opened it we let Camila look at it, examine it, try it out and play with it a little bit. We gave her the option of wearing it that night or the following night. Not surprisingly, she opted to wait a day. But the following night she let us put it on and kept it on all night. It went like that for about five nights. We thought we were on our way, the seventy-five dollar investment had saved us thousands of dollars in orthodontist bills years from now!

Then she woke up without it. She had squirmed her thin little hand and fingers out of the "guard". That night we made it a little tighter but the following morning she had a mark all around her delicate hand, so we loosened it again and explained to her that she should leave it on. She didn't laugh in our faces at that very moment, but I know she laughed because the next morning she woke with with a huge grin on her face and no thumb guard. In the meantime, she had started sucking her thumb all day long. Our efforts to stop her thumb-sucking had again driven her to suck it even more!

Talking about it didn't work, the evil-tasting Mavala Stop didn't work and the ThumbGuard didn't work. We've lost. Parents zero, Camila 1 and as I look into the future I push this image away:

Yes, the very troubled Amy Winehouse was a thumb-sucker.

So what does a mom do when the child wins? She pretends the ball is still in her court; "Camila, you know what I realized? I noticed you really don't like this thumb guard and it's okay if you don't want to wear it anymore... and you know what? I know you're a strong girl and when you're ready you'll stop sucking your thumb. I know when you choose to stop you'll be able to do it all on your own!" She looked at me with wide-open eyes. She wasn't on to me. "Okay!" She kissed me, ran to the couch and sat down, thumb firmly in her mouth.

It's been a month and the thumb-sucking has not ceased. Nor do I think it will. I'm considering a new strategy -- encouraging her to suck her thumb. Maybe even enforcing it at all times...

So I'm open to suggestions, ideas, proven methods. I just don't want her picture to end up on this adult thumb-sucking web site: http://www.thumbsuckingadults.com/mytsMainPhotoIndex.htm. Seriously, I'm begging.

Image credits: https://www.google.com/search?q=girl+sucking+thumb&hl=en&prmd=imvns&source=lnms&tbm=isch&ei=63QxT-SWEtPYiQKr87mwAw&sa=X&oi=mode_link&ct=mode&cd=2&ved=0CBcQ_AUoAQ&biw=1066&bih=529

This Holiday Season Empower You Children To Say No

Holidays are a time when we see a lot of family and friends -- people who are happy to see our beautiful, growing children. People who are excited to meet them for the first time and people who are thrilled to see the smallest family members again. The scene is typical; outstretched arms, little cheeks being pinched, lots of requests for kisses, bellies rubbed and tickled... it's the perfect time to teach our children about setting boundaries with their bodies, a to begin an inoculation of sorts against molestation. 

Yes, the holidays are perfect time for a child to practice saying "no." As in "No, I don't want to kiss her... No, I don't want to sit on his lap... No, I don't want to be tickled anymore." We all want to protect our children from being molested. If you are like me, you talk to your children about not letting people touch their private parts and not touching people's genitals. I also role-play with my children, but nothing prepares us for life better than life itself. Having the opportunity to stand before an adult or another child and say "no" is a great experience for children. Most importantly, being respected by adults, rather than ignored and forced to give kisses, hugs, or be passed from lap to lap, teaches a child that his/her boundaries must be respected. It empowers them and builds a trusting relationship between a parent and child where the child knows mom and dad will back them up, support them and stand by them even when their "no" is embarrassing or uncomfortable for others. 

I can tell you from personal experience that this approach will not make you popular. I've heard it all "You should teach them to be polite... You let them get away with being rude... I can't believe they won't give me just one kiss!" When these comments come as I pull my child away from an overpowering (though loving) family member, I pretend I'm made of Teflon and just let the words slide right off. My children are not brats, they just know they can say no to anyone, any time, and that my husband and I will always support them and stand up for them. 

It surprises me how many contradicting messages we send children in our society. We tell them not to let anyone touch areas covered by clothes, but then we do exactly that; a gymnastics teacher putting a stamp on a child's belly, a swim coach tickling a tummy or an acquaintance lifting a child onto their shoulders. As parents it's important that we stay on top of things and not let down our guard. When I say "No, please don't put a stamp on her belly... Please don't tickle his stomach," people are taken aback and I get the "wow, what-a-crazy-lady" look. But I know I'm empowering my children, teaching them to say no and protect themselves. 

So this holiday season don't send your children mixed messages. Don't force them to kiss anyone, hug anyone, sit on any one's lap. Give your children the best Christmas gift you can give them -- the first of many vaccines against being sexual abuse. Let them say no. 

 

Born To Be Wild

My husband and I recently took our children, Camila (4) and Mateo (3), to see their first IMAX movie, Born To Be Wild. We sat at the very top so we wouldn't injure our necks looking up and that decision resulted in one of the most adorable questions from my son once the movie began; "Mommy, are we inside the movie?" For the remainder of the film he and his sister asked, "Where are we going now?", every time there was a scenery transition. These questions from my children encompass their innocence, vulnerability and ability to just believe and be in the present -- I love any experience that reminds me that I have much to learn from my kids.

Born To Be Wild is the story of two women, one in Africa and the other in Indonesia, who have dedicated their lives to saving orphaned elephants and orphaned orangutans respectively. We meet the teams of people who support their work by actually living with these animals and caring for them twenty-four hours a day.

You know how they often use the word heartwarming to describe a film and it can mean little or nothing at times? Well, this movie truly is heartwarming. I was moved and inspired by the humanity shown to these animals and by how very similar their needs are to ours. I am not one to equate humans with animals, but this movie really captures why every being should be respected and valued. Though we are different from them, our needs and our journeys are quite similar. My children even self-identified with the orangutans; Camila said she was the one who ate the soap while bathing, and Mateo said he was the little one sitting in a woven basket.

The film is narrated by Morgan Freeman and the IMAX screen truly swallows you into the amazing jungles of Indonesia and the unforgiving African terrain. My children were mesmerized the entire forty minutes and have not stopped talking about it. I was truly astonished by the dedication and love demonstrated by the people who rescue, rehabilitate and prepare these animals to return to the wild with a greater chance of survival. And just like we can learn from small children, we can learn from these elephants and orangutans how to relate, love and empathize with each other.

Amazing, inspiring and moving. A must-see for the whole family!


Official movie site: http://www.imax.com/borntobewild/

Arthur Christmas - Movie Review

One of my favorite family traditions is going to the movies the day after Thanksgiving. This year I watched Arthur Christmas with my mom, my sister, my husband and my children, Camila (4) and Mateo (3).

I must say, when I saw the previews I didn't have the slightest interest in the film. We went to see it because the show time worked with the kids' schedule. To my surprise, I loved it from beginning to end. Actually, the beginning was my favorite part -- I found it to be creative and exciting, reminding me a lot of movies like Mission Impossible.

The story is realistic... I know what you're thinking, "It's about Santa Claus and elves Karla!" But I allowed myself to be immersed in the movie and chose to believe in Santa Claus for the duration of the film. The family dynamic was credible and the characters were developed enough for us to be cheering for certain ones. Plus, after watching how Santa and the elves deliver all those gifts at the beginning, it really all makes sense!

The theater was packed with adults and children of all ages. Throughout the movie there was a lot of laughter coming from the adults and the movie was dynamic enough to keep the children entertained. (There wasn't a bunch of walk-outs like I saw during Cars 2). I'm really good at figuring out the mystery or the punch line in a movie, but this one kept me guessing till the end and almost made me cry. Almost.

I definitely recommend this movie -- it's one both you and your children will enjoy!

Official movie site link: http://www.arthurchristmas.com/

I've Decided to Stop Poisoning My Family

Yes, I was poisoning my family. Isn't that horrible?


When my husband and I got married we bought a nice set of pans at Macy's. We didn't know anything about cooking so we were led by brand, appearance and price figuring the more expensive, the better the pans. Since we didn't know hot to cook we figured we should go with ease and chose the non-stick pans. Little did I know we had started poisoning ourselves. See, at high temperatures, non-stick cookware releases PFOA's, a toxic chemical that is a carcinogen linked to low birth weights. 


I hate cooking, but when my daughter was born I started cooking a lot more and simultaneously learned all about the evils of non-stick cookware, threw them out, and bought a set of stainless steel pots and pans. The next morning, when I made... tried to make scrambled eggs I almost cried. One of the few things I'd always known how to cook just right, was all stuck to the pan. I washed it and tried again. Same result. For a week I tried the stainless steel pans, even "treating" them with oil salt and whatever else the Internet said. After a month and a lot of frustration I went to Costco and bought a new set of non-stick pans. Ahhh, the sweet relief of scrambled eggs sliding right off that pan! 


I used those new non-stick pans for four years. I cooked delicious (okay, acceptable) meals for my husband and my children, feeling pangs of guilt that didn't allow me to fully enjoy our meals... Was I making my child infertile or giving them Cancer with those meals? 


But I have corrected course -- two weeks ago I purchased a set of Green Earth Pans...

These pans by Ozeri Ceramic, though non-stick, don't contain PFOA's or any other toxic chemicals. 


I've been using the pans for a week and so far I love them. Being careful never use metal utensils on them so as not to scratch them, I can make scrambled eggs, pancakes and crepes without any of it sticking. Yay! Cleaning the ceramic surface is super easy too! 


I still don't enjoy cooking, but I can finally enjoy watching my family eat! 

http://www.amazon.com/Frying-Ozeri-Ceramic-Non-Stick-Coating/dp/B004AMUELO

Thumb-Sucker!

One of the most beautiful memories for me is that of my daughter, a tiny baby with a mop of shiny black hair, sucking her thumb in her seemingly giant crib. I have to thank that little thumb for helping my Camila be such a good sleeper. She has always be able to soothe herself to sleep because of that thumb.

That now calloused thumb is causing some serious problems now that Camila is four-years-old though. For a year her dentist has been telling me she has to stop sucking her thumb. We started off talking about it with her, "Honey, the dentist says it's important for you to stop sucking your thumb. It's bad for your teeth." Each time she sucked her thumb we reminded her gently, "Camila, your thumb honey." For some strange reason, this gentle approach worsened the situation. While she only sucked her thumb at nap and night time before we started telling her to stop, after our conversation, she started sucking her thumb during the day.

Six months later her dentist recommended Mavala Stop -- I call it truth serum because it's potent and disgusting enough to make you confess all your secrets. I know because as a loving mom (and evil wife my husband would say), I put a drop of the stuff on my tongue and on my husband's tongue before brushing it on Camila's nails like the dentist suggested. The result? Instant tears and gagging which lasted for four days (seriously) because the flavor reappeared any time we put food in our mouths. Still, as a strict and committed mom, I went ahead and put the awful stuff on Camila's nails while she was sleeping. The result? More tears... from me. I couldn't help it. I watched my unsuspecting little girl gag and examine her thumb again and again, never giving up and eventually sucking all the evil taste off her nail. I cried of guilt and pity. But her dentists was clear, her teeth were being pulled forward and out by her thumb sucking. So I brushed on some more Mavala Stop on her nails only to see her suck it right off, this time knowingly and determined.

My husband and I both sucked our thumb until we were four or five-years-old and our moms swear we stopped on our own. Our teeth are fine -- my are perfectly straight actually. So I put away the Mavala Stop. If Camila is so determined, and so in need of that thumb to soothe herself, who are we to get in the way? "She'll stop eventually" I said to my husband, as images of that thirty-something guest on the Dr.Phil show asking "is this normal?" while she sucked her thumb in her corporate office flashed through my mind and bit of doubt entered me.

That was almost a year ago. When we visited her dentist again las month, the news was really bad. Her teeth are crooked and her jaw is actually sliding to the right because of the strong suction she uses to suck her thumb at night. Yikes! She has to stop, the dentist warns. "If not, we'll have to put in an implant on the back of her front teeth that will prevent her from sucking her thumb." Double yikes!

So today I ordered this device:

It's not cheap, almost $75, and to be honest I am weary of the design and effectiveness. How bad can thumb-sucking be really? She probably would stop on her own at some point... But I have to trust her dentist.

I know I'll probably cry watching her unable to suck her little thumb, unable to soothe herself the best way she knows how. And I have a terrible feeling I'll be getting some middle-of-the-night calls from her. But I want her to have nice teeth and to be able to bite off and chew her food. So we'll see how this goes... it's better than oral surgery.

Gratitude Makes Us Happy!

I wish Thanksgiving was every day. Not so much because of the turkey, the mash potatoes and the fruit salad, but because it's a day when people express their gratitude.

Like everyone else, I've had some difficult experiences in my life. Of those, there are two that have affected me profoundly. The first was a three-year period of debilitating pain that preceded major back surgery at the age of 20. The second was the loss of our first baby when I was three months pregnant.

Both of these experiences were devastating and frightening. You can imagine, a young college student, active and athletic, on some days unable to even crawl to the bathroom. I was on strong pain medication that didn't take the pain away but made me sick to my stomach pretty much every day. Before entering the operating room for my emergency laminectomy, the surgeon greeted me and expressed amazement at my positive attitude and the smile on my face.

Our first baby was much desired and planned. My life-long dream of being a mom was shattered when I was three months pregnant, and this time there was no smile on my face before entering the operating room for a D&C. The months that followed consisted of many appointments with the doctor and more devastating news. But through it all, just like when I was suffering from a ruptured disc in my back, I was saying "Thank you for this God."

Being grateful, even in these difficult moments, kept me positive and hopeful. I was able to remain happy because even on days when I fell to my knees and cried, my gratitude gave me the strength to stand up and the ability to see that though it was awful and painful, my experience was a blessing.

Every morning when I wake I thank God for each blessing I have. Throughout the day, I look around and feel so grateful for the little things -- clean clothes, a pair of earrings, toothpaste, a quiet neighborhood, and for the big things -- food, clean water, a loving husband, two healthy children, my mom, my life. And at night, when I close my eyes I give thanks again -- for the day's triumphs and mistakes, for my warm blankets, and for little toys, found hidden under my pillow or in my bed.

When my children cry without true reason, when they are in a bad mood and whiny or just complaining, I sit with them and make them list what they are grateful for. They always start reluctantly, but after naming a few things and people, a smile always creeps onto their face and soon their attitude changes because giving thanks helps us see all the blessings we have. Especially for a young child, it may be difficult to realize they have arms to hug, legs and feet to walk, ears to listen and learn, eyes to see, a mom and dad who love and take care of them. But by asking them every day what they're grateful for and sharing with them what I'm grateful for, my children learn to be grateful for every little thing. The most difficult thing to teach them is that even those bad, sad, frustrating and hurtful moments are a blessing. But I know that will come with life experience.

The research shows it -- gratitude leads to happiness. People who show gratitude are healthier and more satisfied. We'd be a much healthier, happier nation if we made every day a day of thanksgiving.

So even when Thanksgiving day has passed and all the turkey sandwiches are gone, keep on giving thanks -- you'll be grateful in the end. 

Celebrate!

Camila and Mateo have been in swimming lessons for about three years now. We started in the mommy-and-me program and now they're both swimming independently with their coaches. Each time they complete a level they receive a ribbon reflecting their swimming abilities; tadpole, fish, jelly fish. These meant nothing to me or to my kids when they were tiny, but now that my daughter is four-years-old and my son is three-years-old, the ribbons have come to have some significance for them.

Today my daughter advanced a level and received her ribbon. When I met her in the shower she had a gleaming smile on her face and was holding her ribbon up for me to see. I hooted and let out some "woo-hoo's!" I had the camera ready and snapped away. When Mateo finished his class he met us in the shower area and squealed loudly and with glee upon seeing his sister's accomplishment. I gave Camila some high-fives and Mateo started screaming "You look beautiful sister! You look beautiful!" We were in a celebratory mood.

I turned, still smiling, and met some very disapproving eyes. Apparently some of the other parents thought our much-a-do about a ribbon was inappropriate or in bad taste. The same thing happened last week when Mateo advanced a level -- the hooting, squealing, and the disapproving eyes...

For me it's really important to teach my children to be grateful. Every day we list people and things for which we are grateful. Today they gave thanks for daddy, clean water, each other, our friends, for all of their toys, and for me. And I believe celebrating falls right in like with being grateful.

So we celebrate the usual things; birthdays, Christmas, the 4th of July, Thanksgiving. But we also celebrate small victories like cavity-free dental exams and yes, ribbons. I think it teaches them to enjoy life and builds their self-esteem through important, personal achievements. It also helps them celebrate each other, bringing them closer together.

My children didn't notice the dirty looks we (I) got and I'm glad. They were too immersed in their joyful celebration. We went to lunch with daddy to celebrate, and when Mateo asked Camila "Sister, do you feel very good about yourself?" and she answered "Of course, I feel very good about myself brother because now I'm an octopus!", I felt pride swelling in my heart, not for the ribbon, but for the two amazing people I have the honor to parent.

And it's true, now we've got two octopuses in our family. That's two healthy little people who can listen, follow directions, hold their breath, stay in position, receive correction and criticism and get themselves out of the pool if they ever fall in. And that is much to celebrate about my friends. Woohoo!

Sometimes the Best Thing to Do Is Nothing

Tuesday was a rough day. It was the third day Camila woke up on the left side of the bed, with the wrong foot, upside down and backwards. Everything was wrong; she didn't want daddy to dress her but me. She cried when I put on her t-shirt "I don't want short sleeves, I want a long sleeves!" She cried some more when I told her she could change. She put on a long-sleeved shirt and pushed the sleeves all the way up to her biceps. The fork was the wrong color. The plate was the wrong material, her seat belt didn't feel right... 


I took her and her brother to a local theme park for a change of scenery and some fun... I thought. But Camila was still in a bad mood. She didn't want to get on the rides, pet the animals, wait in line, or let anyone else have fun. I kept my cool for about three hours. Then... it's so hard to stay calm and not lose my patience when I have four consecutive days like this! 


But the other day I read this quote by Tony Humphries; "They're not trying to make life difficult for you, they are only trying to show you how difficult it is for them." ‎I kept reminding myself of this all day. It's not about me, it's about them. 




But... "something must be wrong", I think to myself. I have to do something. I give extra hugs, extra attention, gently ask "what's wrong?" The crying, whining and annoyance doesn't subside. So I do the opposite -- give her space, walk away, tell her it's okay to cry in her bedroom. Nothing. Actually, more tears and screaming. 


I went to bed feeling bad that night. For hours I rattled my brain wondering what I did wrong, how I could do better... Then, yesterday, I tried something new; Camila started to have a fit because I brushed her hair in the bathroom instead of in the living room (a preference she apparently developed this morning), and I felt my shoulders climbing up my neck and my breathing getting shallow. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and knelt next to my daughter. I was going to say something but instead I just looked at her and put my hand on her leg. She stopped (fake) crying for a second and then resumed. I kept my hand on her leg and said nothing. A minute passed and she turned to look at me, stared and grunted. I said nothing but tried my hardest to project nothing but love. "Mommy?" She sat up and stared at me with big round eyes. I said, "I love you." She looked down, stood up and waited. "I love you," I repeated. "Do you want a hug?" She nodded yes and hugged me. I allowed her to control the length and strength of our embrace. She pulled back and said the most surprising thing, "I love you mommy. I'm not going to fight with you anymore." 

Today she said "Mommy, I know how much you love me." I asked, "You do? How do you know?" And in her usual brilliance and amazing understanding of herself and life, she responded, "I know with all of my voice!" And it turns out that sometimes there is nothing for me to do but stop, sit in silence and wait. And in that silence she feels heard and feels all of my love. 

It All Makes Sense Now!

Last week I was at the park with my children enjoying a beautiful day. Most of the children present were young -- under five-years-old. There is a tall structure at this park and a lot of the children were climbing it. Every time one of them climbed up us moms did a little coaching, a little warning -- "One at a time! Be careful!" A few moms walked closer to the structure to be within reach in case their child fell off. All of a sudden five boys around 10-years-old appeared and immediately started climbing the tall structure, two at a time, and jumping off! Again and again they jumped off and landed not on their feet, but on their backs and sides. I just kept thinking "God, please don't let my son ever do something that dumb!" 


I've seen images like those I saw at the park before; boys jumping off roofs, loosing their teeth after skateboarding off a handrail, setting themselves on fire to get a laugh, trying to "surf" on top of a moving car. The thought "How stupid can you be?", always crosses my mind when I see those thing. Why do they do it? It makes no sense to me! Well, it made no sense to me...


However, I recently learned that the prefrontal cortex, located behind our foreheads, and in charge of controlling the ability to differentiate between good and bad, foreseeing future consequences of actions, predicting outcomes, and good social behavior, amongst other duties, is not fully formed until we are well into our 20's. Yes, the area of the brain in charge of decision-making and good judgement, is not fully formed until we reach the age of 25! It all makes now, doesn't it?


Knowing this, I can't think of those boys as dumb anymore. I can't blame them for their immaturity and lack of foresight (how many bones could they have broken jumping off that structure so many times?). Now I know that it truly is just an issue of immaturity based not so much on personality, but on biology. And I also see how much our son will need us to guide him and teach him until he is well past what some parents consider the age where they should stay out of their kids' lives and let them make their own decisions. 


So for now, I will keep reminding them, "One at a time! Be careful!" And hoping (against hope maybe) that my son will never do something so dumb. 

The Mommy Curse

If I had known how much guilt is envolved with being a mom I would have never reproached my mom for anything. I would have known she had already beaten herself up for every single misstep in raising me.

Every night, when I go to sleep I review my day and give myself a grade. I don't know when I started doing this. Maybe I did it from the beginning. But I've noticed that I'm just like those teachers I hated who would never give students an A+ no matter what.

No matter how good a day I create for my children
I seem to always find fault with my parenting. 

It can be anything; having missed naps, not cooking enough fresh meals, having spent too much time in the kitchen instead of playing with the kids, having uttered too many "no's," having put them to bed late, not having read more than two books, and on bad days (mine or theirs), having yelled at them or threatened them with a spanking.

That could be me, lying sleepless, judging myself
while my husband rests peacefully. 

The thing is, I think I'm a really good mom. I love my children to death, and having worked so hard to become a mom, I protect them and cherish them. I love being a stay-at-home-mom and no amount of money could pull me away from my position. My children are happy, loving, intelligent, polite, kind and healthy. They are the kind of kids who sing while they play.

So why am I so hard on myself? Why do I focus on my mistakes instead of the things I do right as a mom? Why do I beat myself up every night? The guilt does me no good and it does my kids no good. And the guilt about feeling guilty is even more useless.

What I recently learned is that I'm not the only mom who does this. In fact, it seems this condition of self-inflicting flagellation is very common amongst moms. More than two friends have recently shared with me stories of self-grading and self-flogging to the point of tears. I wonder if it's an innate action that somehow forces us to scrutinize everything we do in order to be better parents and keep our children safe, or if it's some sort of mommy curse.

Either way, what I realized as I listened to one of my friends share a self-grading episode with me, is that if we are this harsh with ourselves, when we're really good moms, we will be just as harsh on our children, making them feel the same guilt and self-hate that we bring on ourselves. Listening to her, there was no judgement on my part. It was actually like watching myself in an out-of-body experience and it could've been me telling that exact story. But watching from the outside, what I wanted to say most was "Be kind to yourself. Have compassion for yourself." If we are able to do that then we will be able to be kind and compassionate with our children. If we are able to overlook our mistakes and focus on the 98% good instead of the 2% bad or just "not good enough," we will always be able to do the same with our children.

When my children do something wrong I don't say "You get an 'F'!" I say, "You are learning and mistakes are part of the process." Yelling "You get an F!" would not help them grow or become good people, it would probably have an opposite effect stifling them and killing their spirits. And just like there is no manual titled "How To Become A Human Being And Learn Everything You Need To Know," there isn't a manual titled "How To Be The Perfect Parent For Camila And Mateo." So at the end of the day I can't review the events and cross and circle everything with a red pen, lest I stifle myself with guilt and kill my spirit. Nor do I want my children to grow up being so hard on themselves... or on me. Compassion begets compassion.

What I'll do the next time I start berating myself for not
doing every single thing perfectly every day. 

It's Rough Being a Boy

When I was little I wanted to be a boy. Well, not really. I just hated wearing a skirts and dresses and figured if I were a boy I could wear pants every day, even to my private school, parties and church. I was a tomboy and to me it seemed like being a boy would be so much cooler, more exciting and easier. Even as an adult, well past my tomboy stage, I thought men had it easier than women. Clearly, they have more powerful positions, get paid better than women for the same job, and can generally discard being sexually assaulted from their list of things to worry about. But now, as a mom to a little boy, I realize being a boy is really rough. 


My children are only eleven months apart, so it's easy for me to compare the way they are perceived and treated by other people. Both of my children are sweet, kind and loving. They both love babies and are drawn to them. But since the beginning, when Mateo was just one-year-old and Camila two, I saw the different reactions from people. When my daughter approached a baby the mothers would smile and welcome her saying things like "You like the baby? Say hi baby... Your daughter is so sweet!" Even when she would accidentally tumble over the baby or lose her balance and push the baby's head let's say, the mothers would smile and say "It's okay." But when my son would approach, sometimes the exact same baby, the mother would warn, "Be careful with the baby. Be gentle," and usually lift the baby out of Mateo's reach. I saw this happen again and again and each time I saw confusion and sadness in my little boy's face. 


I teach my children to be kind and gentle with those younger than them. I teach them to touch a baby's foot instead of the hand or the face, and to protect smaller children who might need help. When my daughter squeezes a baby's foot with love and excitement the parents say nothing and smile, or they might encourage her to touch the baby's head. When my son does the same the warnings come "Not too hard. Be careful." I see the unease in the parent's face and my son does too, often backing away. At parks where he might approach another child to hug them, hold their hand or help them, he hears "No pushing! Be nice!" 


On the rare occasion when my daughter pushes someone the other child's parents quickly let it go saying "It's okay." When my son pushes someone it's assumed he is starting trouble and for no good reason. Just this past week we attended a gathering with many moms and children. A woman approached me to say my son was "Hitting all the boys" and a second woman added that he was "not letting any of them play." I walked over to find him crammed into the corner of a small play house, surrounded by four boys taller and probably older than him, about to cry. My daughter was outside. I asked what was going on and with tears in his eyes he said "I don't know." "They're hitting him and pushing him mom," my daughter explained. "I hit them so they would leave him alone but they won't stop." After some questioning from me, the boys admitted things had been as my daughter had said. I expressed my pride in my daughter for defending her brother (it's the first time I know of her hitting someone), and helped my son get out of the play house. I thought it interesting that my son was hit and pushed and my daughter did some hitting, but it was my son who was labeled the aggressor.


The fact is, my son is more aggressive than my daughter. He has hit other children and when he gets mad he really gets mad. But I can't recall one single time when he was being aggressive before a mother or father treated him in a defensive way, rejecting his friendly approach towards their child. 


In their book Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Life of Boys, the authors Dan Kindlon and Michael Thompson, talk about how boys' emotional lives are suppressed. The book focuses on school-aged and teen-aged boys, but I see now that the process begins in infancy. I don't think my son's experience is unique and it saddens me to see that boys, from the beginning, are treated with suspicion and even disdain. We complain that men don't express emotion, that they're not nurturing like women, but now I see that as a society, we turn that switch off in them early. My son is now three-years-old and I see him approach babies with hesitation now, watching the parent's face and often briefly touching a foot or a leg before turning away quickly. I know he still loves them because he admires them from a distance and says "Mommy, look at that baby. He's so beautiful. He's so little mommy. I want to carry that baby." 


I believe we're failing boys in this way. Not allowing them to develop into their full human potential. How can we expect them to be loving fathers and husbands? My friend's son was excluded from a class project and reprimanded for writing a story about a superhero who used fire to save others. The story (and thus the boy) was deemed "too violent" by his first-grade teacher. When I heard what happened I recognized it as the same knee-jerk reaction my son gets when he has the intention of being kind but adults focus on the fact that he is a boy and assume the worst. 


In his book Incognito: The Secret Lives of the Brain, David Eagleman explains that 98.4 percent of those on death row are male and writes "It seems clear enough that the carriers (of the Y chromosome) are strongly predisposed toward a different type of behavior..." But having witnessed events like the ones I've shared with you, on so many occasions, I wonder if it's not the genes that predispose men to violence, as much as the way males are treated and presumed guilty from such an early age. 


Perhaps if we change the way we view boys, simply by giving them the benefit of the doubt. If we force ourselves to focus on their kind intentions; wanting to caress a baby, to hug or help another child, to be a superhero who saves others, rather than on our preconceived notion of what and who boys are, we will end the self-fulfilling prophecy of violent men who cannot nurture. 

Lessons From My 4-Year-Old

I'm well aware of the enormity of my responsibility as a mom and primary care giver. My job is to teach my children how to sleep on a schedule, how to eat solids, how to walk, how to talk, to get dressed, to tie their shoes and to use the bathroom. It's my job to teach them how to socialize, how to interpret jokes, to distinguish between good and bad, between right and wrong. It's up to me to teach them to be polite, how to converse, to cooperate, to negotiate, to be kind but not a push-over, to be honest but careful with people's feelings. From me they learn the importance of being on time, giving a gift, sending a thank-you card, exercising, eating right... packing a suitcase, dialing 911... everything. 

But sometimes the lessons are learned by me and taught by my children.  

Case in point, Camila, my four-year-old. A few months ago a friend invited us to her house. It was a warm day and she told us to bring swimsuits in case the kids wanted to get wet -- the sprinklers and water toys would be on. I packed a bag with swimsuits, water shoes, sunscreen, hats, extra clothes, and we were on our way. Three blocks from my friend's house I realized I had left the bag at home and let out a loud "Oh shoot!" My daughter immediately asked "What's wrong mommy?" I said, "I left the swimsuits and everything at home!" I looked at the time and started looking for a place to make a u-turn. My kids would be the only ones not able to get wet -- I couldn't let them down like that. But my daughter interrupted my thoughts, "Oh it's okay mommy. Don't worry. Look, I don't want you to drive all the way back home, get us out of the car and hurry to the house to go look everywhere for the bag, okay? It's okay. We just won't get wet. We'll still have fun." I looked at her through my rear-view mirror and saw her beautiful little face, happy and serene. She really meant it. She wasn't mad or sad about it. I said, "All the other kids will get wet. We could go home and get everything really fast and come back." She put her little hands casually behind her head and smiled "I know mommy but then we won't get so much time with our friends." I was struck by how right she was. We went to my friend's house and no one got wet after all. My kids had a great time and I learned a great lesson; it's more important to have time with loved ones and to take life in stride sometimes instead of running around in a hurry trying to make everything perfect. 

More recently, I went to Macy's to buy myself some clothes. Now, Camila and Mateo usually behave so well that I get compliments from other people. The truth is they are well-behaved children everywhere we go, but on this particular day Camila was in a feisty mood. She was bothering her brother and kept getting moving away from me. I grew up watching America's Most Wanted, After School Specials, Oprah and Lifetime movies, so I'm terrified of my children being kidnapped and killed, or worse. You can imagine the terror that entered my body when I turned around to say hi to the cashier and looked back to find only my son sitting in the stroller. I scanned the area quickly and called out "Camila." I carried my son and started moving away from the register, "Camila!" I looked towards the dressing rooms, the escalator, the exit, "Camila!" I kneeled on the floor and looked under the clothes racks "Camila!" My heart was beating so hard I thought I would die but knew I couldn't until I found her. "Camila!" After about four torturous minutes she popped out of a clothes rack, laughing. My fear turned into relief and quickly into anger. 

I forgot my usual get-on-my-child's-eye-level and reassure them I love them despite their mistakes. "Camila! Come here! Do not ever do that again! You scared me, I thought someone kidnapped you! Someone could kidnap you if you leave my side like that! Why did you do that? Do not ever, ever --" I wanted her to feel bad. I wanted to scare her so she would never do it again. I wanted her to see how mad I was so she would remember and reconsider the next time. I could see my screaming had made her laughter and her smile disappear and I felt horrible but wanted to make my point. 

"Mommy, you know what? ... Mommy, you know what?"

My voice still raised I asked "What?"

"I forgive you mommy." I dropped to my knees. "You forgive me?" All the anger left my body. "Yes mommy. I forgive you and I love you." She held my face in her little hands and I could see the tears welled up in her eyes. I hugged her tight and kissed her over and over. "Thank you my love." 

At that moment, I learned how to forgive a person in the midst of being attacked. Camila taught me that I can forgive even before being asked for forgiveness and that big, big lesson from someone who is just figuring out how the world works makes me a better mom and a better human being. 

What Would You Do?

The thing I wanted most my entire life was to be a mom. In seventh grade I flirted with the idea of being an architect and in high school I thought of being an obstetrician or a pediatrician. I was admitted to University as a Biological Sciences Major but from the beginning knew that career wouldn't work with my future life as a stay-at-home mom to eight children. I don't have eight children, I have two... for now. I changed my major to Psychology thinking it would better prepare me to be a full-time mom.

After graduation I worked as a legal and medical interpreter but to me it was just a transition job, nothing permanent, just something to hold me over until my kids were born. While I worked I took Child Development classes to further ready myself to be a great mom and learned not only how children develop, but also how children learn -- in preparation for homeschooling my six children. Of course I wanted to homeschool them!

My daughter was born in 2007 and almost a year later my son in 2008. It was a great start to my brood of six and the "homeschooling" began right away. My husband and I took a sign language class and he forgot all of it in about three seconds, but I used it with my children every day. I set up a little schedule  and did activities preschools do; circle time, music time, free play, reading, art time, and so on.

When my friends started talking about preschool I announced my plan to homeschool with confidence and despite some horrified looks, smiled with excitement.

Then last year, about a week after my daughter's third birthday she announced "I want to go to school. By my self. Without you or my brother... and I'm going to go in the school bus." Period, end of story, there wasn't a single question mark in there. Something strange and unfamiliar happened to me then, I was speechless. Once I was able to pick my jaw off the floor I smiled and said "Oh, do you want to play school right now?" She looked at me with her beautiful almond eyes, held my gaze for a few seconds and turned around to play. Without a single word.

Every day for the next three months she restated her plans, "I'm going to go to school without you and without my brother and I'm going to go in the yellow school bus." She said it so often and with such confidence I wondered if she had snuck out at night to watch my DVRd Oprah show about vision boards. At first I laughed it off and told my husband it wasn't happening. She was too little. What was the point of going to preschool when she had me at home all day, teaching her stuff? What if something happened to her? Then I started to get a little annoyed about her messing up my plans, and that's when I noticed it had become a power struggle and I realized that in trying to do what I thought was best for her I could actually be stifling her independence and sense of self. She clearly wanted some space from her little brother and me.

So I signed her up for preschool and a week later as we prepared for her first day I secretly cried all day long. I cried and cried and cried but without her seeing me so as not to frighten her or make her feel bad for her desire to be more independent. I had let go of the plan to skip preschool and realized what I thought was best maybe wasn't and I had to trust her in the process of parenting too. But I was not ready to let her go -- it was too soon! But with the support and presence of my husband, mom, and sister, I took her little hand and walked her into her first classroom and after a brief kiss she was off.

Camila loves preschool and twice a week my son, who never lacks a craving for my attention, gets me all to himself. I get to experience the light feeling of having only one child to carry, play with and entertain. And I've come to love that special one-on-one time with my son so much I'd like to experience it with my daughter too...

So my son just turned three and I started talking to him about going to school. Six months ago he wanted to go, said he was ready. Now, nothing. I remind him of all the toys in his sister's class and mention all the projects she brought home. I ask Camila to share with him how fun it is to play with a bunch of friends in the playground and to sing with the teachers. We talk about how nice the teachers are and how well they take care of all the kids... but of course, he doesn't want to go to school. "I don't want to go to school... I want to go to school with you mommy." Of course.

Mateo just started swimming without me and does great with the teachers. He has a fun time and is all smiles during class. So my plan was to send Camila to school Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and to send Mateo Tuesdays and Thursdays. That way they each get special time with me -- a rarity for siblings 11 months apart.

What would you do, would you, in the interest of giving his sister some personal attention, send him to preschool despite his opposition to going?