The World of Author/Mom Alicia Murphy!

Hi Friends,

Happy New Year a bit late! “A bit late” is, unfortunately, how I roll. Not a great quality, but it is what it is. Maybe I’ll add “Be prompt” to my resolution list this year. Ah, the everloved resolution(s). These days, I find myself making resolutions DAILY … The January thing is just an added bonus. I’m always going to be a better mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend, neighbor, circus clown. There’s always room for improvement and change. Making it happen is the challenging part.

I’ve been doing a “renewal” meditation in the mornings after I exercise (yes, first I kickbox like a mad woman and then I lie down and attempt to get calm for the day …). The meditation focuses on how our bodies and our world are constantly renewing themselves. These things happen whether we want them to or not. Renewing our minds and our lives is different; it’s our own choice.

I’ve seen so many examples of renewal in the last couple of weeks. My dad, who was hospitalized for 9 weeks following a massive heart attack, finally came home right before Christmas. He’s a different person now in so many (positive) ways. Renewal.

During Dad’s illness, my mom, brother, and I all had life put into persepctive in terms of what’s truly important. Renewal.

My son’s teacher sent me an email describing several ways he has made improvement in school. We see it at home, too. Renewal.

My girlfriends and I registered to run a 5K together in March. Three of the four of us have not run in way too long, but we’re starting up again. Renewal.

A new principal has just started his job at my children’s school. He is full of energy, enthusiasm, and great ideas. Renewal.

One of my childhood friends recently moved his whole family across the country, just because he and his wife have always dreamed of doing it. Renewal.

We’re currently having our basement finished. This will increase our living space, give our kids another play area, and decrease the amount of their crap that has been taking up most of our living room and family room. Renewal.

We just replaced a faulty toilet in our powder room. This will hopefully eliminate the number of overflows and consequential floods into the (soon-to-be-finished) basement. Renewal. Said toilet was so pristine upon its entry into the powder room. I really didn’t want anyone to use it (… namely the young males in our house who haven’t yet perfected their aim). Alas, the toilet was christened in many ways. (Unfortunate) renewal.

My friend and I both decided to stop drinking wine unless there’s a special occasion or an event taking place. This will be renewal when we start doing it.

Tomorow I’ll celebrate my 43rd birthday. Renewal.

Today I’ve finally come back to my blog after a long time. There were lots of reasons why I didn’t feel like I could write the way I wanted to during that time … But I’ve missed it, and I’m excited to pursue this and so many of my other writing projects. Renewal.

My cousin’s family Christmas card this year read, “Be present. Every day is a gift.” I love that message. I’ve chosen to listen to it and really try to notice the little joys in my life.
What could be a better form of renewal than that? Sounds like a special occasion … I’ll wait till 5:00 to pour …

I grew up wanting to be like my dad. Silently self-confident, he just took care of things without wanting or needing to be recognized for it. A quieter man, he tended to listen more than he spoke, but could at any moment say something hilarious. Someone who rarely asked for help, he bent over backwards to help others. These qualities are still present in my dad, though his confidence has been challenged by adversity; he still listens but doesn’t always hear too well; he remains helpful and definitely hasn’t lost his sense of humor.

I’ve always known what a strong man my dad is, but his amazing strength has been evidenced during the past week. Dad suffered a massive heart attack and went into cardiac arrest. The paramedics were able to bring him back to us, but he remained unconscious for 5 days. During that time, the cardiologists prepared us for the worst. When Dad began to open his eyes and respond to simple commands, the doctors told us that he is a miracle; in terms of medical odds, they said, he shouldn’t be here.

We’ve been blessed. Blessed with more time to love him, more days of seeing his smile, and more chances to talk to him from our hearts.

Life is so fragile. It’s too short. We think we can wait on things. Even big things. We can’t. Why not tell the people in our lives how much we love them? Why not take the steps necessary to turn our dreams into realities?

My dad – and mom – gave me the gift of life. What I do with it will be my gift to them. Dad’s strength and courage are a model for shaping my own character, dreams, and life.

Whatever the relationship, our parents play a huge role in molding who we are. Whatever age we may reach, we are our parents’ children, pride, and legacy.
I’ll always be my daddy’s little girl. May I make him proud.

I haven’t written in quite a while … Been busy with my kids’ return to school.
September is definitely an adjustment time, a time of new beginnings and newfound
stress after 2 months of “carefree” summer days.

I’ve heard some parents say that the start of the school year is more stressful for
them than it is for their kids. Plenty of paperwork, lots of books to be covered,
new teacher personalities, which we pray will mesh with our own. We are now at the
mercy of a structured routine (which doesn’t include staying in our pajamas till noon).
We can’t help but worry about our kids a little:
Will they be happy in school?
Will their teacher be fair?
Will they fit in?
Will they be successful in their work?
Will they bully or be bullied?
Will teachers and other students notice how special they are?
Will teachers and other students notice what nudges they are?
Will homework time magically become pleasant this year?
Will our children know we believe in them and feel proud of
them no matter what happens at school?

I try to think back to my own school days. Despite how different things were back then
(in the old days), my guess is that the feelings of today’s school-age children are
much the same as the ones I experienced: uncertainty, hope, fear, excitement.

One beginning-of-the-school-year experience stands out. I was starting third grade,
which meant I was moving to the upper elementary school, a different building than
where I’d been for grades K-2. I was heartbroken leaving my previous teacher,
Miss Convey, because she had looped with my class so she’d been our teacher for first
AND second grade. I was nervous about third grade, a new teacher, and a bigger school.

On the first day, I came downstairs (all decked out in my back-to-school outfit,
which was no doubt long-sleeved and may have involved the “it’s too hot for tights
but I’m so excited about my new school clothes that I have to wear them” tights.
The outside temp was most likely pushing 80 degrees too). My stomach was in knots
and I didn’t feel hungry, but I was going to eat breakfast anyway. Opening the cabinet
where we kept the cereals, I noticed that the Cheerios box wasn’t there. In fact,
none of the cereal boxes were there. I looked around the kitchen and spotted them
all on the counter near my fishbowl. This reminded me to feed my fish, Olivia
(appropriately named after Olivia Newton-John… Grease had premiered that year).
The cereal boxes were strangely arranged in a U-shape around the front of my fishbowl.
Pushing them out of the way, I looked in to the bowl.

“Where’s Olivia?” I asked my mom. She looked at me with pity.
“I was trying to hide it,” she answered, “because it’s your first day of school
and I don’t want you to be sad today … I came down this morning, and Olivia
was floating on top of the water. I’m sorry, Honey.”

I thought about this for a moment. I couldn’t deal with being sad on my first day
of third grade. My nerves already had me feeling queasy. So I simply said, “Oh,
okay!” and continued on pour to my Cheerios. My mom was in shock. We’d had Olivia
for about 2 years; she was one of those goldfish you win at the carnival by throwing
the ping-pong ball into the little glass globe. Those goldfish are usually dead
within 3-5 days. But not Olivia. She lived a long, happy life in the Hogan house.

Strangely enough, my daughter won a ping-pong-in-the-glass-globe goldfish 15 months
ago. Like Olivia, my daughter’s fish (“Twinkle Toes”) is livin’ large (and LONG).
Of course, we had to buy 2 other goldfish for my sons, who felt left out being
fish-less.

The day before school started, I walked into the kitchen to see Twinkle Toes floating
on top of the (very dirty) water. “Oh, @#$^&;%$!@!@#$%%$#@!!!” I thought … “Not the
day before my little girl starts kindergarten!” I had prepared water to clean out the
tank too and was just getting ready to do that. Damn! I glanced into my pantry to see
how many cereal boxes I had on hand.

Looking closely, I suddenly saw the fish’s mouth and fin move. I quickly grabbed the net,
scooped her out of the tank and dumped her into the clean bowl of water. It was as if
she’d been electrically shocked back to life. She sputtered for a moment and then began
to swim slowly around the bowl. In a matter of minutes, Twinkle Toes was bright-eyed and
bushy … finned. Thank goodness. I wouldn’t have to add a fish funeral to the stress of
starting school. Now that the kids are gone during the day, I’d better make time to keep
the fish tank clean.

Ah, school memories … If you’re reading this, I’d love to hear yours!

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.

What other non-paying job has the hours of 24/7?

Before kids, how many of your vacations were actually RELAXING?

Are we all going deaf, or do we HAVE to crank the volume of the
TV, radio, iPod just to hear it over our kids’ chatter, screams, arguments?

How many things on your “TO DO” list don’t get done at night (when you vowed
to do them) because once the children are in bed, you just want to veg?

How often do you have to re-run the washing machine because you forgot to
empty a load into the dryer and it got smelly?

When you’re upstairs, and your husband is downstairs with the kids, and
you suddenly hear all hell breaking loose, do you say to yourself, “So glad
I’m not “IT”?

Ever opened a fattening food (or alcoholic drink) and thought, “I don’t care;
after spending the last 12 hours with the kids, I NEED this”?

When your kids are playing together and you hear one of them start crying,
is your first reaction to roll your eyes? You’re normal.

Would you pass out if your child ever listened to you the FIRST time you asked
him to do something?

Doesn’t it get annoying trying to figure out what dinner is going to be each
night?

Which would you rather do: Take all of your kids to the grocery store or
kiss a wasp?

Is there REALLY such a thing as a clean house?

Is there REALLY such a thing as a clean CAR?

Who likes when it’s time to apply sunscreen?

Who likes the trash her kids get in birthday party goodie bags?

Does it ever seem like your husband is another one of your children?

At what (sad) point do we become “Mom and Dad” instead of “Mommy and Daddy?”

Anyone else tired of picking up shoes all over the house?

Anyone else tired of looking for OTHER PEOPLE’S shoes (that they’ve
left all over the house and now can’t find when it’s time to walk out
the door to school, practice, church, playground …)?

Which is better at the end of the day: wine or chocolate?

Which is better at the end of the day: silence or silence?

Is there any GOOD reason for the way every toy is tied, knotted, bound into
its box when you first open it? I think Santa has developed OCD over the years …

There’s really no such thing as not being tired, is there?

How many times has a complete stranger (usually an old woman) stopped you
in a store, gazed adoringly at your kids, and ordered you to “Enjoy these
years”?

When your kids are playing nicely together, do you try to hide quietly
somewhere?

Do your kids play nicely together until the moment you pick up the phone?
Universal, it seems.

What hurts more: when your child bounds into your lap, elbows flying …
or when she no longer wants to sit there?

… I don’t know the answer to that last one yet, so I’m trying every day to
listen to the cotton-head in the store who told me to enjoy them. Then I put
them to bed and choose between wine and chocolate.