The World of Author/Mom Alicia Murphy!

People watching is a hoot.
Watching other parents with their children is also fun,
for several reasons:

1) It can help to assure us that we are not the only ones
dealing with unexpected, unwanted or downright bizarre
child behaviors.

2) It can help to assure us that we are actually much more
sane than other parents.

3) It makes us roll our eyes and think, OMG, I can relate
or OMG, I’m just glad it’s not MY kid this time.

Here are just a few interesting parent/child sights I saw
this summer:

* A toddler parked in a stroller and sucking HIS MOM’S thumb.

* A dad standing up, flossing his teeth while the rest of
his family enjoyed ice cream at Hershey Park.

* A mom flipping out on her son for repeatedly leaning on
the bagging area of the self-checkout in the grocery
store (Pssst … That was me. Shhhhh …).

* A woman speaking to her 8-year-old “gifted” daughter
as though the child was an adult, only to have the child
consistently argue and whine at her like an 8-year-old.

* A mom forgetting her child twice while attempting to
leave a playdate.

* A woman bitching and hollering at her boyfriend’s kids during a visit to their school … Come to find out that
this chick runs an anti-bullying campaign.

Good stuff. Not trying to judge anyone else or their parenting; just keepin’ it real and suggesting we all
have a chuckle at this debacle we call having kids.
Feel free to post fun parent/child sightings YOU’VE
witnessed!

My 4-year old has been very inquisitive about God lately.

“Mommy, can God see us all the time?”
“Yes, he can.”
“Like Santa Claus can?”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
“Well, God and Santa are very special and magical.”
“Daddy, God’s really good at making things, right?”
“He sure is, Bud.”
“Mommy, why is God so good at making things?”
“Because he’s the greatest, most talented artist ever.”
“Dad, do ya think God likes sandwiches?”
(… Silence, then stifled chuckles …)
“That’s a good question, Dude.”

I guess none of us will ever know about God’s love for Subway (or any
other sandwich joint) until we travel “Uptown” to meet him.

Hope this gave you a smile. Please enjoy your favorite sandwich today!

So I found myself lying awake at 4:00 this morning, feeling like a “bad mom” as I replayed yesterday’s events in my head. Dissecting every poor parenting choice I’d made and feeling annoyed with myself for not being a “better” mom, I said a prayer for more patience and continued guidance in raising my kids.

Somehow, when we’re “in the (exasperating) moment” with our children, it seems appropriate to yell, slam a door, even engage in an argument with our preschooler. Then later, we wonder why we weren’t the adult in the situation. Tough stuff.

*We hear the word “Mommy” no less than 57,000 times in a given day. Sometimes I want to disguise myself in my kids’ dress-up clothes and see if I can hide by roaming the house incognito.
*We are asked the same questions over and over in a given day.
*We can bend over backwards and do cartwheels to create a fun-filled day for our little ones, and they still want more (a prime example of this: my 4-year-old keeps asking to go back to Chuck E. Cheese’s. I explained to him tonight that we can’t do things like that every day, because it gets expensive and it isn’t a treat anymore if we do it all the time. “Do you understand what I mean?” I asked him. His response? “Yes, and Mom, by the way, speaking of Chuck E. Cheese, when can we go back?”). Excuse me, Son, while I take a flying leap out of your bedroom and hurl myself over the railing of the 2-story foyer. I got nothin’ left.
*We find ourselves saying the same things again and again, only to … find ourselves saying them again and again.

BUT – We are human. We get annoyed, frustrated, tired. We lose our patience and our temper. We say and do things we wish we hadn’t. And it’s okay. Luckily, children are extremely resilient (even more so than adults) and very loyal to us. We have to be loyal to ourselves by getting out of bed in the morning (or at 4 AM), brushing off the dust from the day before, and beginning again. We have a daily opportunity to change our thinking, choices, behavior (Man, it’s hard in August though, isn’t it???).

There’s a song with the lyrics “There’s always tomorrow to start over again. Things will never stay the same; the only one sure thing is change. That’s why there’s always tomorrow.”

When I got out of bed at 4 AM, I went downstairs and did 45 minutes of kickboxing (I either needed to work out some frustration, or I was suffering from temporary insanity). Then I made 2 lists: one named all of the “good mom” things I’ve done this summer, and the other named all of the good things I see in myself. These lists helped me to give myself a break and move forward.

Let’s always forgive ourselves (especially at the end of the summer!) for not being “perfect” parents. First, because there’s no such thing; and second, because “there’s always tomorrow to start over again.”

Jack and I went into Philadelphia tonight to meet our
new niece, Kiera, who was born yesterday. She’s perfect;
a precious little face, beautiful skin, a bit of dark
hair, and big, curious eyes.

As I snuggled with this sweet new soul, I experienced
the most magical thing there is about holding a new baby:
that scent that can only come from heaven. I love it
because there isn’t another place on Earth we can find
it … This wonderful scent reminds me what a true miracle
a baby – a new life – really is.

It’s amazing how tiny a newborn is. Every time I see one,
I have a renewed sense of life’s progression. Typically,
my 4-year-old looks small to me; but compared to my new
baby niece, he’s a giant! He has grown unbelievably in his
4 years, learning to walk, figuring out how to manipulate
toys (and me!) and “mastering” a language. Children are
brilliant, resilient, enchanting, amazing. They truly are
a gift from God. I know, every time I encounter that “scent
from heaven,” that life is a fragile privilege, granted to
us as infants with the freedom of choosing who we will be
as we grow.

… Okay, newborns are also AWESOME because they don’t
talk back! (Hee hee hee … Sorry, I was getting a little
too philosophical, too earthy-crunchy, too “je ne sais quoi”
if you will … I had to throw in something to keep it real).

But the “heaven scent” is truly a miracle (by the way,
raise your hand if you thought my spelling just sucked when
you saw the title of this post… Ah, ha! It wasn’t a
mistake — it was a play on words. Gotcha!). I highly
recommend inhaling deeply the next time you hold a
newborn … There’s nothing quite like it.

When I was a teacher (BK — Before Kids),
the entire month of August felt like a
Sunday night … Filled with the anticipation
of any and all stress-inducing things brought
by the school year.

Now that I’m a mom, the entire month of
August feels like Christmas Eve … When
when is Santa going to come on his bright
yellow school bus and shower me with gifts
of a clean, quiet home, bicker-free days,
and a schedule to keep my kids occupied?

Yes, I DO feel guilty about being that guy
in the Staples commercial, joyfully filling
his cart with school supplies as he dances up
and down the aisles to “It’s the Most Wonderful
Time of the Year.”
Classic ad, by the way.

Let’s face it– as nice as the summer is,
with all of its lazy days and sun-shiny
weather, it’s a LOT of togetherness; plenty
of time for arguing and getting on each others’
nerves.

When I was a kid, I could walk across the
neighborhood to play with a friend. I could
organize a game of kickball in the street.
It’s not like that anymore… Our children
have to be supervised for their own safety.
Life is different today; the world is different.

I was recently talking to Deb, a new friend of
mine whose children go to school with my own. I
was admitting that I’m feeling “done” with summer.
She asked me if I feel guilty about not enjoying
my kids more. Affirmative. She asked if the guilt
weighs on me. Affirmative. I told her that I always
imagined loving every moment with my children.
She said she sometimes feels guilty as well, but
reminded me that our children’s behavior isn’t always
the best, and it’s normal to feel “done” sometimes.

I was so glad that I’d opened up about feeling like
Miss Hannigan from “Annie.” Deb helped me remember that
we parents are all going through the same trials and
tribulations (aka crap) with our kids. In the “motherhood”
book I wrote, there’s an entire chapter about “keeping it
real” when talking to other moms. It can be hard to admit
to other parents that our kids are sometimes a huge pain
in the ass, that we’d sometimes like to hang them by their
toenails from the nearest telephone wire, or that the
process of navigating another 13-hour day with them is about
as relaxing as a root canal.

One of my best friends told me today, “I’m not sure I can make
it another 3 weeks til school … I’m all tapped out.” Another
friend said recently, “My kitchen is like a 24-hour cafe; the
microwave’s always going, the toaster’s always going …. All
they do is eat!”

It’s important for us parents to voice these feelings to one
another. It keeps things real. So if you’re also finding that
summer, though wonderful in all of its carefree fun, is in fact
“getting old,” rest secure in the knowledge that you are in good
company. Moms everywhere are wrestling with conflicting feelings
of “done-ness” and “not-being-ready-for-the-school-routine-ness.”

Thanks for helping me keep it real, Deb!
Hang in there, Moms who are summered-out …
Santa’s big, yellow school bus is around the corner!
To all the moms who aren’t ready for summer to go,
enjoy every minute of the last few weeks!

My friend’s mom always says that “your first kid is like the first pancake” you make. She’s right. That child is a guinea pig. The subject (or victim) of a big experiment. After all, parents don’t necessarily have a clue what they’re doing the first time around, nor should they.

There have been a ton of little (and big) “firsts” with my first. And many times I look frightfully at a situation while that voice in my head asks, “How the hell am I supposed to handle THIS?!?!” Diving in head first is my typical response (not that there are many other options).

My oldest has grown too tall for his bicycle, so I asked him if he wanted me to raise the seat for him.
“You know how to do that?” he asked in disbelief.
“I’ll try,” I answered, attempting to sound like I knew what I was doing but confident only in the fact that this would be … an “interesting” pursuit.

I found my husband’s toolbox. Check. (By the way, it’s quite humorous in itself that my husband even has a toolbox, but
that’s a blog entry for another day). Located the wrench. Check. Unscrewed the seat. Check. Heightened the bar it rests
on. Check. Replaced the seat. Check. Made my child smile.
AWESOME Check (don’t be fooled … C’mon, you know the smile
didn’t last).

Feeling victorious, I packed up the toolbox (but didn’t put it away, in case further adjustments were needed by the pro). As my son wheeled around the driveway, I asked him if the height
felt okay. Answering affirmatively, he made his way down the driveway. I got on my own bicycle (helmeting up first for safety, of course) and joined him in the cul-de-sac. My son decided to ride down the street a bit. He was two houses away when he face-planted in the middle of the street. Ugh! Poor
little pancake. His knee was skinned and bloody, but he wasn’t
otherwise hurt (when I saw his position after he fell, I had visions of shattered teeth).

I rode quickly over to him, at which point he picked himself up and promptly started blaming me for his wipeout. The Raiser-Of-The-Seat is undoubtedly at fault for the rider’s inability to effectively stop.

Wheeling his bike over to the curb, he growled, “That thing’s for sale.”

Trying desperately not to laugh hysterically, I calmly explained that I know it’s scary to fall – and it hurts! – but it’s part of riding a bike.

“What day does the trash go out?” Pancake asked. Oh boy, this wasn’t going well.

“It just went out today,” I answered. No response.

We ventured back up our driveway (leaving the taboo bike at the
curb … as though it was in Time Out). My son continued to
complain about his wound and stay bitter about his delinquent
mother’s incompetence in heightening a bike seat. Fun.

Eventually, it was time for me to start making dinner (more fun!), so we cleaned up the toys in the yard. I then asked Pancake to bring his bike up from the curb.

He walked down the driveway, and when he returned, he was pulling our trash can up from the street. Hmmm, I thought, maybe he’s trying to make up for yelling at me about the damn
seat fiasco.

“Thanks for bringing that up, Dude,” I said.

“Look,” he answered, opening to lid of the trash can to reveal
… Wait for it … HIS BICYCLE. In the trash can. Helmet included.

I suppose my face looked like I was about to go apeshit on him,
because Pancake quickly said, “Mommy! I only put it in there so
I could wheel it up here more easily.”

Am I nuts, or does it seem like it would be easier to take a bike by the handlebars and walk it up the driveway, or put the whole damn thing into a heavy trash can and wheel it all up? I have no idea how the child got the bike into the can. Maybe his
anger gave him special super powers.

It was awesome pulling the bike out of the trash can. And the helmet was at the gross bottom, of course!

The bicycle (with the now TOO-HIGH seat) sits in our garage … Ready for our next pursuit of bike-riding fun and hilarity.

Located the wrench.