Bad Luck Streak

February 2nd, 2010 by Diana
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This isn’t superstition… I’ve become a bad luck magnet.  Blame it on my Moontime, blame it on my bad mood, but negativity attracts negativity.

Munch, Death in the Sickroom, visipix.com

Munch, Death in the Sickroom, visipix.com

It’s the opposite of Oprah’s favorite book, The Secret, which (I think, since I’ve never read it) reveals that positive energy attracts positive.  This is “the most powerful law in the universe.”

But how can one keep a cheerful mood in the face of:

1. PMT (premenstrual TENSION, as the British call it– much more accurate than PMS)

2. Pink Eye (goopy, itchy infections in BOTH eyes, making the windows to my soul swollen and red and altogether hideous).  Can’t wear mascara.  Embarrassed to go out in public.

NO Carmen's in here!

NO Carmen's in here!

3. Two sisters in a FIGHTING PHASE.  I don’t know why, but A and C have been at each other’s throats since I came home from New York.  Screaming, crying, shrieking, hitting, shoving, pulling hair, grabbing toys, destroying artwork… Last week there was not a moment of peace.

4. Discovering that my laptop SCREEN is cracked.  Yes, somehow my new-to-me PowerBook G4, a hand-me-down from my web-designer brother, has a big crack in the screen.  Did C get her hands on it (most likely scenario)?  Did it get banged around between home and the library?  Either way, there is no reversing the damage and I am BUMMING.

5. No more WRITING GROUP– my beautiful Tuesday night creative salvation is over, as T. is now working that shift.  How I miss Suzanne and the others!

6. Getting stopped by the COPS driving home from the library.  Couldn’t find my registration.  Turns out my inspection is overdue.

7. Friday YOGA class attendance dropping off.  Why?  Is it too hard? Too easy?  Too much Ashtanga?  A bad time for most people?  Not enough music?  Has everyone found other yoga classes they prefer?  Should I give up teaching and devote myself to my writing?

8.  Speaking of which, I have to write 14 BLURBS on Cosmetology over the next few days for my online writing job.  Or rather, Charlotte Day (my web-content alter-ego/ PEN NAME) has to write them.  It’s vaguely like being in college, the constant weight of papers hanging over my head.  Except I am now (luckily enough) getting paid for them.

On that note, I’ll stop complaining.  I am blessed to be working, to have my health (mostly), and my beloved family.  I said this blog was NO CRYING, JUST WRITING and I will stick to it.

Maybe I need to go to bed and read more Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now.  But not before I take out the garbage and recycling and wish and pray for this snowball of bad luck to melt.

dreaming of Dominica

dreaming of dominica

right now i am unenlightened and would give anything for:

1. a nanny

2. a guru

3. a personal chef/housekeeper

4. a massage

5. inspiration

6. the Caribbean

7. inner peace

8. Springtime

9. a talk with my Dad

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New York, New York

January 30th, 2010 by Diana
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Brooklyn 1

Brooklyn Bridge sunshine

It feels like another lifetime.

Last weekend I was in New York, walking around downtown with my yoga mat.  I hung out in a cool coffeeshop in Tribeca called Pain Au Quotidien, drinking a bowl of Cafe Au Lait and reading the New York Times.

I bartered for a knock-off hobo bag on Canal St and bought some gummy sharks and butterflies for A and C at a candy shop in Chinatown that also sold 50 flavors of dried fish:  Tuna Cube, Thai Scallop, Shredded Cod Stick…

I sat alone and savored a steaming bowl of Pho– rice noodles, broth, shrimp, fresh basil and bean sprouts and lime.

I walked back and forth across the Brooklyn bridge twice, the whole city laid out before me like a mirage.  What freedom– to walk everywhere, and never need a car!  The best part was staying in DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass: a newly hip neighborhood in Brooklyn that my friend Robin calls “the jewel of New York”).

Her apartment is serene, a writer’s paradise– spare and modern with an orange couch, a bamboo tree, and huge windows with views of the two bridges.  I felt like I was in a boutique hotel, but with a friend, since Robin welcomed me and made me tea and cooked me eggs and walked me to Kula Yoga Project for my workshop.

brooklyn2The yoga left a great deal to be desired, unfortunately.  Nearly 40 advanced yogis sweated it out shoulder to shoulder in a dark studio.  The teacher drew the curtains and I felt like I was practicing in a windowless, airless dungeon.  My urban claustrophobia consumed me, and I never felt the spacious calm that happens during a blissful yoga class.

Doug Swenson may be an Ashtanga Master, but the ability to perform crazy-advanced poses doesn’t mean you have the gift of teaching them.  I found the workshop atmosphere competitive rather than compassionate.

But I have no regrets.  I spontaneously took a trip BY MYSELF– out of my comfort zone, away from my family.

It’s true– absence makes the heart go fonder.  I put into practice my favorite quote:  ”How can I miss you if you never go away?”  I missed the girls terribly on Friday night during the darkest hour of the urban yoga, and even thought about coming home early.

But once I passed the 24 hour mark, some internal shift occurred and I was my own woman again.  What should I do with myself?  I had no plans– I wandered the city.  I drank more than my usual share of caffeine and buzzed on the New York energy, which is a constant hum, a pulse running beneath everything.  I questioned my life and my geography, why we choose to live in Vermont.  Then I enjoyed a casual dinner party at Robin’s apartment with some artistic, intellectual New Yorkers.

I came home renewed and full of ideas, love and gratitude.  But re-entry was hard.  Much harder than I’d expected. The house was trashed.  Both girls hadn’t slept much and were sick with bad colds that turned out to be raging ear infections.  Monday morning found me at the doctor’s office, in a little cubicle with A and C.  Outside it was 35 and pouring cold rain.

“Back to life, back to reality…” goes that 1990s dance song.

Now, it’s five degrees here and I’m trying to figure out how to get A and C outside.  I dream of going back to the city for a Kula flow class, bringing the girls to the Bronx zoo, getting a date in Chinatown with T.

Maybe this spring?

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Married, With Children

January 26th, 2010 by Diana
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One afternoon my husband and I walked in the door and lay down on the living room rug in our coats.  The world dissolved, and we melted into each other, bodies recalling the old spark and stir.

D and t in 2x

Child-free, 2003

Then the children pounced on us–crying for attention, pulling us apart.  They couldn’t bear to see us kiss, focused only on each other.

What evolutionary instinct makes offspring disrupt their parents’ intimacy?  The way our girls carry on, you’d think snuggling threatened their very survival.  Maybe the behavior is a relic from Neanderthal days, when constant adult vigilance protected babies from predators.

But the irony is that “the parents’ relationship is the linchpin of the family.” So claim the authors of Babyproofing Your Marriage, three married moms who want you to “laugh more, argue less, and communicate better as your family grows.”

I’ve read this book many times, underlined and quoted it, carried it in my purse.  I believe that “nurturing the marital relationship is central to our children’s sense of security and happiness.”  But it’s a complicated task. [Read more →]

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Snow Art

January 21st, 2010 by Diana
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C in snow artSome things make you feel like a good mom.

Not a great mom.  I don’t have the patience or cooking skills for that.  But a good mom– one who gets her kids out playing happily in the snow.

I got this ingenious idea from A’s preschool teacher.  SNOW ART!  All you need are some old poster paint bottles filled with hot water, and a few sticks.  The activity lasted 10 minutes tops, but C loved squirting paint onto a mound of snow.

It’s the first time Mommy has ever given her free rein to make a big mess!

A, the self-described Artist, enjoyed painting with a stick.

way better than sledding

way better than sledding

Then we built a Snow Fort together and played in it for a few minutes before bare hands got too cold (C often refuses to wear mittens).

When we came in, I didn’t manage to bake banana muffins, but did offer a healthy snack of cheese and crackers and raisins.

But maybe my good mom-ness was negated later– when I dragged my suddenly sick, coughing four-year-old to the Co-op, bribing her with a chocolate-chip cookie.  All because we were out of black tea, and I couldn’t stand to be home alone all evening when T. was working.

Those long, dark winter evenings alone.  Cabin fever. Claustrophobia. More Max & Ruby and Bunny Noodles.

Nothing like a bustling grocery store to lift my spirits and get me pumped up for bedtime!

I am an Artist

I am an Artist

SNOW FORT!

SNOW FORT!

A in snow fort

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Mama In the City

January 18th, 2010 by Diana
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Here’s the big news of 2010:

yoga-tree poseI’m going to New York!  Without my children.  Alone and FREE!  Will everyone survive?  I hope so.  Am I ready?  Hell yeah.

Yes, this country mouse is headed to New York City, as us Vermonters call the Big Apple.  If all goes well, I will take the train down from New Haven on Friday afternoon and spend the weekend attending an Ashtanga Yoga workshop at Kula Yoga Project, a funky, fun, creative vinyasa studio downtown.

I have heard about this place for years and have only dreamed of going.  Now the dream comes true, if I have the guts and the good luck to carry it out.

Perhaps there are 2 camps of readers:  those who think I’m a cold, heartless mother who would abandon her young children and husband for a self- indulgent weekend of yoga.

And those who wonder:  Would she just quit worrying and go study yoga already?

split headstandT. has been telling me to “Book a Yoga Training” for months now.  And for one reason or another, the timing has not been right.  But now the stars have aligned and everything’s coming together.

A and C and T will be fine– they may even thrive in my absence.  I’ve told them I’ll bring back bagels from New York.  Or maybe some kind of interesting cookies.

But I wonder what will happen to C’s “snackies”?  I was lying awake at 5 am today, my heart flooded with sadness, thinking that this trip could be the end of nursing.  Will I come back from the city to a weaned toddler?

Somehow I don’t think it will happen so abruptly, if neither of us want it to.  And if it does, it was meant to be. But I’m not ready to cut off that relationship over 48 hours.  I need some talking about the process, talker that I am.

Today I said to C:  ”Can you have cow-milk in a sippy cup when I’m gone?” and she looked at me blankly.  She tells us daily, “I’m Two and a HALF!”  (in a few weeks).  A big, strong strapping girl who sometimes wears Elmo panties rather than a diaper.  She’ll be fine.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to all the forces that have conspired to make this trip possible.  Especially my beloved husband, without whose generosity and encouragement there would be no traveling at all.

My old fearless sense of adventure, so strong in my early 20s, is welling up again.  ”Anything could happen,” I used to think. Maybe that still holds true.

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On Love and Discipline

January 11th, 2010 by Diana
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Mommy with girlsDo you recall being spanked as a child?  My mother claims we were never spanked, but a haze of nostalgia must cloud her memory.

Cut to my grandparents’ log cabin during extended-family vacation, when after-dinner rough-housing pushed my father to his limit. Typically loving and silly, my father roared like a grizzly when angered, thundering upstairs to punish us.  He placed me, then my little brother, across his lap– delivering a firm, quick paddle.

Sobbing from humiliation, I waited in bed for someone to come soothe me.  What naughtiness had we done?  Did the events happen once or a handful of times?  My memory blurs, but I don’t think I suffered any psychological trauma.

Now as a mother of two, I’ve never contemplated spanking as a form of discipline.  After all, the American Academy of Pediatrics states that corporal punishment is of limited effectiveness, and recommends that parents “be encouraged and assisted in the development of methods other than spanking for managing undesired behavior.”

"NO!"

"NO!"

But I haven’t discovered such methods myself.  There’s no clear discipline strategy in our house.  I end up doing a lot of explaining, pleading and inconsistent Time Outs– while trying not to lose the hot temper I inherited from my dad.  My anger flares up at incessant four-year-old whining, then rages at the toddler’s deliberate destruction.

I try to give my children fair warning:  “Mommy’s losing her patience.  She doesn’t want to yell, but if there’s no cooperation, she might have no choice.”

But parents always have a choice.  With the proper skills, mindfulness, and deep breathing, we can rein in our worst impulses.  We can work on improving our patience (never one of my strong suits).  We can use clever tricks like sticker charts to encourage good behavior.  We can hold family meetings and talk about our issues.  Right?

Not according to John Rosemund.

Rosemund is a family psychologist who takes a self-described “traditional” view of parenting.  He writes a Q & A-style syndicated parenting column called “Living With Children.”  A more accurate title would be “Controlling Your Children.” Rosemund is controversial for not opposing spanking, and frequently urges parents to “put the proverbial hammer down.”

In Rosemund’s world, if a picky eater doesn’t like the family dinner, that child should go to bed hungry.  In my world, that child gets Mommy and Daddy to short-order cook for her, rushing around the kitchen fixing a bagel with cream cheese.

In Rosemund’s world, if a toddler wakes up at night crying, that child is told– lovingly but firmly–  that she must remain in her own bed.  In my world, said toddler comes to sleep between Mommy and Daddy and kicks like a mountain goat.

No I won't open my eyes for the camera

I won't look at the camera

But something in Rosemund’s approach resonated with me.  Could I weave some of his discipline tricks into my affectionate, indulgent, inconsistent parenting style?  Rosemund claims that today’s climate of parental permissiveness originated in the early 70s, when the American family became a democracy– each member having one vote.  In a democratic family, parents treat their children as equals, showing them respect and developing their self-esteem by giving them equal voice in setting rules, chores, privileges, etc.

But Rosemund advocates an alternate form of family government– a “benevolent dictatorship.” Parents should be both loving and authoritative, he says, because love and authority are two sides of the same coin.

“There is widespread tendency to regard love as a positive force, and authority or discipline as a negative, potentially destructive one,” writes Rosemund in ‘The Voice of Authority.’  ”This notion that love is somehow more valuable to a child’s upbringing than discipline is what I term “The Great Misunderstanding.”  The facts are: First, you cannot effectively communicate your love to a child unless you are also a source of effective authority.  Second, you cannot effectively discipline unless you are also a source of genuine love.”

Sounds good, right?

But how does one apply this philosophy to a willful 2-year-old who deliberately dumps her Smoothie on the floor, or a 4-year-old who refuses to get dressed for school?  How to be lovingly authoritative in the moment?

I could try to become the mother John Rosemund wants me to be.  I could read every guilt-inducing parenting book on the shelf. Or I could relax and listen to my Uncle Jamie.

Jamie is a child psychologist and father of three who advocates “Floor Time” as the key to discipline.  No, not a Time Out on the floor, but parent and child playing together on the floor!  Jamie surprises his clients when he tells them:  “The single best behavioral strategy for managing your child is… PLAY WITH HER A LOT.”

If a child feels pleasure in her parent’s attention and loving connection, says my uncle, she will be invested in keeping that relationship going.  I consider the last time I sat down to play with Ava.  Before her sister arrived, it happened many times a day.  Now it is a rare occurrence, often fraught with sibling conflict.

I could list a thousand reasons why I’m too busy, or I could simply start playing.  Rather than becoming a benevolent dictator, I resolve to take my uncle’s advice.  Play more, yell less.  And pray for patience.

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Cabin Fever 2: How To Survive January

January 9th, 2010 by Diana
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Last winter was rough.  I felt like I spent weeks cooped up indoors with a warmth-loving 3-year-old and a wild-monster 1-year old.

10 degrees and swinging

Winter fun?

It’s true, my oldest is something of a hothouse flower.  She loves heat and being naked.

She’d probably thrive in Southern Florida, but she’s going to have to wait till college for that lifestyle.

Just when I despair that A will never share her parents’ love of vigorous, outdoor winter activities, I catch myself.  Bitter cold, ice and snow are inherently challenging for small children.

Other people’s kids may play happily for hours in 18-degree howling winds, but not my two.

A and C prefer doing naked somersaults, flips and headstands on the bed– games which come naturally to them and require no extensive bundling or weather-beaten toughness.

So why start a battle over cross-country skiing at ages 2 and 4?

At the one-year anniversary of my very first Spilt Milk column (”Cabin Fever“), we are surviving winter (a bit) more smoothly.  The change is not momentous.  One year later, I still get cabin fever every afternoon and need to devise tricks to get the girls outside.

Mommy’s Sanity-Saving Winter Tricks:

A at mailbox1.  Maybe there’s a package in the mailbox…

2.  Let’s check the chickens and make sure their combs haven’t fallen off from frostbite!

3. How about swinging on the playset!

4.  I’ll pull you fast on the snow-tube…

5. Let’s make a Snow Kitty (Bunny/ Unicorn/ Fairy)!

6.  CHOCOLATE CHIPS!

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Winter Lemonade Stand

January 7th, 2010 by Diana
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Nothing like a houseful of girls to keep things lively.

A, I, and C have a Lemonade Stand

A, I, and C have a Lemonade Stand

During the holiday, A’s best friend from preschool, I, came over for a playdate.  It was a glorious, sunny, blue-and-white winter afternoon, but the girls wanted to stay indoors.  They dressed up as Fairy Princesses and set up a Lemonade Stand in the playroom.

I might rather have been out on a 3-hour classic ski through the woods or doing Ashtanga Primary Series in a serene yoga studio, but I still enjoyed putting fake pennies in a jar to drink a pretend cup of lemonade.

Amazing what joy the world of fantasy brings to young children!  It’s contagious.

As playdates go, this one qualified as a success.  Despite A initially refusing to let C play, then C refusing to take a nap and climbing out of her crib– suddenly, a naked toddler appears downstairs!– the afternoon resolved with pink satin harmony.

Plus, I got to hang out with I’s very cool mom, who inspires me with her funky fashion sense and career focus.

I realize I’ve been wary of playdates because three’s a crowd– and A and C are often enough to handle alone.  But now I see that they are well worth the risk of sibling conflict.  Here’s to friends!

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For Better or For What?

January 3rd, 2010 by Diana
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Married, With Children (summer 2008)

Married, With Children (summer 2008)

As the country debates Marriage as an institution, I consider the state of my own union.

Tonight C. nursed to sleep in my arms after a night away.  Such sweet reunion.  Sometimes she likes to take my lower lip in her mouth and suck on it, laughing.

Later, A. wrote me a card because she knew I was sad:

“DIANA I LOVE YOU” printed in big red letters.

As we lay snuggling in her bed, she traced her fingers over my eyebrows and played with my hair.  All the intimacy I once shared with my husband seems to have been displaced onto our children.

Despite another read-through of the bible of my second pregnancy, Babyproofing Your Marriage, I am at a loss.  Where do we go from here?

I wish I remembered that 80s TV show, “Married With Children,” because the three words keep running through my head. Were those screen parents happily, romantically in love?  Was it all a crock?

I don’t know any couple with 2 (or more) young children who seem particularly blissful.  We’re all in over our heads, trying to keep the kids fed and the house clean, trying to get enough sleep and pay the mortgage, get through the daily routine and carve out precious personal time for ourselves, let alone with our spouses.

But what happens when you get that alone time and you have nothing kind to say to each other?  What happens when affection is gone, forget about romance.

I don’t know what I expected when my father told me (years ago) that marriage takes a lot of hard work.  I thought– “maybe for other people, but WE’re different.”  Or, “That’s okay, I’m up for the challenge.”

Bottom line:  I am still up for the challenge.  But to meet it, I need help.  I need support, friendship.  A big hug, not even a kiss.

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Feeding Sugar Kitty

January 2nd, 2010 by Diana
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Sugar Kitty C with shades

Sugar Kitty C with shades

I was on the radio last week!

Lots of fun and lots of hard work.  The recording session took nearly 2 hours of intense coaching, articulation, and repeating sentences to get the tone and emphasis just right.

To listen to my commentary on VPR, click here and go to LISTEN.

This 3 minute, 14 second commentary started out as a column (”Sugar Kitty“) but was mercilessly edited into radio format.  Hopefully I can learn from the process and do it all again.

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