There's no manual?

Okay God, I need some reassurance that I am doing this right. Because I often feel like I am failing miserably. Where are the instructions? How do I do this whole parenting thing?


I want to raise my kids to grow into respectable adults with good morals and a solid sense of self. To be comfortable with who they are. To accept their weaknesses and accentuate their strengths. Probably all of the same hopes that every parent has for their children. But I wonder if I am doing everything that I can to do help them move toward these hopes for their future. What if all of the mistakes that I am making far outweigh the things I do right? What kind of a man and woman would my children become then?

I think it is human nature to question our parenting "skills," if you want to call them that. I cringe when I think of all of the times I have lost my temper or not paid enough attention, or let my children down. All of these failures come flooding back to me when I feel scrutinized by others. Most of the time when I go out and about with the kids, they are pretty well behaved. I mean, there is always the usual whining for something that catches their eye, or the "I've had enough" antsiness (is that a word??) when I have lingered too long. But for the most part I do not have the kids that are running rampant through the store, picking up everything they see, throwing tantrums when they do not get what they want...you know the kind I am talking about. We have all experienced that.

But the other day as I was shopping for a birthday present, I had the kids with me and they were starting to get bored. I knew I only had a limited amount of shopping time and it was almost up. (I should really set a timer next time.) We went down an aisle where there were a bunch of feather boas hanging and the kids zeroed right in on them. What fun! I let them each pick a color and wrapped them around their necks. Coulby was adorned in blue feathers and Caroline in pink. They were so proud of themselves and I thought it was adorable. They were giggling with each other and happily showing their boas off to an invisible audience as they walked to the aisle right across from me. I had them in plain view, only a few steps away. I was admiring their delight at something so simple when an employee, who apparently did not find it so endearing, walked right up to them and asked them for their boas. Immediately defensive, I walked--more like marched--over and held my hand out to take the confiscated boas from the woman. She gave me this stern tsk-tsk look as she stiffly handed me the boas. I was so taken by her obvious disapproval of my children's shrieks of delight and fashion show, and my mind quickly transitioned into the mommy overdrive that is ferociously protective of her kids. I wanted to say something and my mouth would not form the words. Nothing came out. I used my face instead to send her my message. Literally the epitome of "if looks could kill." I knew my words would not have conveyed my emotions nearly as well. I hung the boas up again, knowing that if I had bought them as planned I would always be reminded of the woman's contempt. Silly, I know, but I just could not bring myself to buy them after that.

When my blood had stopped boiling, I felt the tears stinging behind my eyes. I let that woman get to me; make me doubt my parenting. I do not know why, because not a moment before I had stood my ground with confidence. When I really thought about it later, I think my ego was bruised. Because someone disapproved of what I was allowing my children to do. We all have an ego, and I try not to let mine get in my way, but like I said before, we all question our parenting. It takes just one scrutiny to allow that uncertainty to bubble to the surface, and in that moment, our defenses are down and we are vulnerable. Our ego is vulnerable.

I shrugged this off as another learning experience. It was a reminder that we all do things differently, and some people are more prone to judging than others. The woman in the store was not right. She was not wrong. She was looking at things through her own eyes. And how she sees the world, and the world of parenting, is obviously not going to be the same way that I see things. Since Coulby was born, I have looked at a lot of things differently. I see the blessings in my life, and feel grateful for the smallest of accomplishments my children make. I know that each of thier days, and mine, could have been so different. And I allow my kids to experience all they can because they can. Even if it is just the simplest of things, like feeling feathers tickle their necks as they strut around wearing boas. How grand!

Thers's no parenting manual?

I often question my parenting. Am I too laid back? Am I too hard on the kids? What do I do now? Am I teaching my children well? What if I screw them up? I suppose it is natural to have these thoughts as a parent, but they plague me because this is something truly important...okay, so I am the master of the obvious! But seriously, I want my children to grow up with good morals and manners, self-confidence but not arrogance, the ability to make good choices out of respect to themselves and others, compassion, ambition, sensibility, a drive to succeed (but not to the point where life is nothing but work, work, work!), an openness to allow their hearts to love...I guess pretty much what every mother wants for her children. And I am afraid to make too many mistakes. But where is my manual?

Working with preschoolers prior to having my own children gave me the experience I needed with young children, but could never have prepared me for having my own. No one could tell me what to expect when I was expecting, and honestly, I really did not want to listen anyway. I knew it would be an experience that I would have to go into alone, and that only becoming a parent and experiencing it firsthand would teach me what I needed to know. I only hoped that I could use some of what my parents have taught me that has helped me in my life and mold it into my own parenting skills. I guess I have done that, but it is not enough to put my mind at ease.

I know the world is a cruel place, although I love seeing it through my children's eyes. I love to see the innocence and the trust that only a young child can experience from lack of experience. That is never something I tire of. But I know I must do my part to prepare Coulby and Caroline for the world that is waiting for them, which is often not at all what I would like it to be. True, there is good in this world, and I have experienced and witnessed it firsthand. I want my children to be people who bring even more good into the world. Even just two people can make a difference. And I guess that is what bothers me so much. That I am responsible for guiding them into adulthood to become the do-gooders that I want them to be.

Every time I lose my patience I feel like I have let them down. When I am not paying enough attention to them, or when I do not seize a moment to enlighten them, or I miss a praiseworthy moment, I feel like I am letting them down. There are so many times when I have let an opportunity come and go and then I later wish I could turn back the hands of time. The reality of it all is that this is going to happen no matter how hard I try to keep it from happening. Because I am human. And I am a mother. And both of these realities are against me because neither humans nor mothers are perfect. Although some of us like to think we are! Ha!

I have learned that there is nothing I can do but try my best to be a good mother and person, and hope this will result in two kids who grow into a beautiful young man and woman. I see their personalities coming out more and more with each day that passes, and I see the person each is becoming. I smile when I get a "please" or a "thank you," or when Coulby or Caroline go out of their way to do something far beyond their years. I guess those are the moments to cling to. Those are the moments to build upon.

As I drove Coulby around on my father-in-law's newest toy, a gator, the other day, he looked at me with this smile on his face that just showed how pleased he was to be riding beside me; just the two of us. He said, "I love you, mommy," which made me just about break down in tears. Just the simplicity of it--that he was feeling that way at that moment and expressed himself without prompting or hesitation was enough for me to feel like maybe I am not doing such a bad job after all. Of course I am sure that one day I will hear the, "I hate you, mom," that so many mothers before me have heard, but I hope that it will be because I am making a decision that he will one day thank me for, realizing that it was in his best interest. I have been there myself with my own mother, who did not always make the most popular decisions, but always made them with me in mind, as I discovered later in my life. And how did she know she was doing the right thing then? I guess maybe she was winging it too, just like me. So maybe there is hope after all...

5 years ago...

I remember how badly I wanted a baby before I was pregnant with Coulby. It was an indescribable emotion. Not like, "I think I am ready for a baby," or "It would be nice to start a family." It was more like, "I want a baby NOW!" My husband was a little less driven because we had not been married long before the plans for a family were set in motion. Despite his initial uncertainty about timing and diving into such a huge decision, my hubby and I were blessed to become pregnant right away and very excited to add a third member to our family of two.

I went through my pregnancy just like most other women do: with the usual excitement, uncertainty, anticipation...oh, let me just put it in "real" terms! I was excited and scared to death, in awe of what my body was capable of and horrified at how large certain body parts had become, loving preparing the nursery and wondering how we would afford everything for our baby (have you seen the price of diapers these days????), loving watching how my belly was growing with the life growing inside of me and looking forward to wearing clothes without elastic waist bands. I had a great first pregnancy...if I dare say, it was perfect.

On Saturday, April 25, 2009, all of these memories came flooding back to me. Of how badly I wanted a baby, of all of the emotions surrounding my pregnancy, and of how perfect my pregnancy really was. And of how horrific the aftermath became. How devastating it was to have such a great pregnancy only to find out there was something wrong with my baby boy all along. All of those emotions came back, too, as we celebrated Coulby's 5th birthday. If you had told me on April 25, 2004 that my life with my newborn son would consist of a medical vocabulary with Citrullinemia at its root, medications completely foreign to me, scales, a food values book, a daily log of my son's protein and caloric intake, and an unwanted familiarity with Hopkins and its staff, I probably would have looked pretty dazed and confused. And that is exactly how I felt when I was told these things only 4 days after we brought Coulby home from the hospital.

I really did not know what to expect in the years to come, or even if I could expect to have years to come with my son. The doctors at Hopkins gave us little bits of information at a time, and it always seemed that it could not get any worse until they gave us a new piece of information about Coulby's life with Citrullinemia. I think I walked through a daze for most of those days that Coulby spent at Hopkins as a newborn. He laid in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV and wires, wires and more wires when I was supposed to be holding him in the comforts of my home welcoming him into our family. I missed out on all of the newborn stuff with Coulby. That still saddens me, but I look at that time as a blessing, too. Because I can now look back and see how far we have come. How far Coulby has come. How he has grown and thrived and far surpassed what we expected from him as he laid in that hospital bed 5 years ago.

Celebrating Coulby's 5th birthday (and his daddy's 30th!...yes, on the SAME day) is a huge deal because I know where we could be based on what we were initially told about Citrullinemia. Coulby is a miracle. A true blessing. And he has taught me so much in the last 5 years. I see his strength and I hope that I can be that strong. I see his perseverance and I pray that I can overcome obstacles with such grace. I see his drive and I realize we have come full circle. It comes right back to my drive to have a baby; to have Coulby. He is driven in everything that he does in his young life. Honestly, while most people are trying to tame that kind of drive in children these days (like in the school system, as I have found), I encourage it and find ways for Coulby to channel it in positive ways. That does not always make my life easy as a mom, but I figure it will be worth all of the frustrations and hair-pulling moments. It already has been!

So I guess my blog today is to remind myself of how blessed I have been in the last 5 years to have Coulby in my life. I am reminded every day when I see Coulby learning something new, or when he tells me one of his fun make-believe stories (which are becoming more and more elaborate and detailed each day), when I watch him climb the steps of the school bus to go to school. Or when he sneaks into my room in the morning after daddy has gone to work and says, "Hi mommy, can I lay with you?",as he snuggles in beside me. My baby. Even though he is a big 5-year-old now, he will ALWAYS be my baby!

*Oh, and what better way to celebrate Coulby's 5th birthday than with a train cake? And I am not one to brag at all, but I made his cake! I do not take full credit, because I did get some ideas off of the resource of all resources: the Internet. I stayed up until 4:30 a.m. making that cake, and it was worth every second. Coulby loved it!*