The World of Author/Mom Alicia Murphy!

How’s your summer going? Ours is rolling along fairly well, despite any forgotten sunscreen, pushing and shoving among children, or extra BBQ-related pounds. It’s hard to believe that the kids have been out of school for over a month. Even harder to swallow is that, in over a month, they’ll STILL be home … Kidding (or AM I?). We’ve been having fun. 100 degrees every day, frequent thunderstorms, frequent “Mommy, I’m hungry” … What’s not to love?

We have had our fair share of learning time. As a former teacher, I’m always trying to come up with ways to create “teachable moments” without letting the kids know what I’m up to. The other day, my 7-year-old, who had had enough of the pool, climbed onto my lap (undoubtedly he won’t be doing that for much longer … sniff, sniff). He began to ask over and over, “When can we leave?” I asked, “Well, if it’s 4:15 now, and your brother and sister stay in the pool for another half hour, what time will we leave?” I was able to keep changing the time increments (and keep him on my lap). He enjoyed this little game and it helped me get smiles – rather than whines – from him.

Another thing that’s been fun is a question and answer game. I first saw this at The American Girl Cafe in New York City. There was a little box on the table. In that little box, there were small strips of cardstock. On those small strips of cardstock were questions about life: What is your favorite place to be alone? If you could be another person for one month, who would you be and why? These were great. My girlfriend, Jean, also told me that she plays a similar game with her kids. Whomever asks the question has to be willing to also answer it about herself.
These kinds of activities keep our children thinking while making them aware of our interest in their thoughts.

I also bought a book this week called (Year of) Little Lesson Plans: 10 Minutes of Smart, Fun Things to Teach Your Little Ones Ages 3-8 Each Weekday. It was written by Courtney Loquasto, who used to be in my local MOMS Club before moving to the Atlanta area. I had only met her once or twice, but now a published author (my DREAM!) and a Family Strategy Development Teacher to at-risk pregnant women, Courtney is suddenly my hero. (I keep messaging her on Facebook with questions about her publishing success. She’s been very kind, but she may eventually un-friend me as a result of my stalker-like behavior). Seriously, she has great ideas to share, and if your children fit into the appropriate age bracket, I recommend her book. So creative and clever! Her website, SimpleFamilyJoys.com, also has really neat tips for parents. Check it out!

I’m always forgiving myself for not being the best, most fun, most happy-go-lucky, most sober, most exciting mom on the planet … There’s no guilt in looking for resources that help get my “creative mom juices” flowing as smoothly as my wine flows. Teachable moments, here I come!

Yesterday I surprised my daughter with a trip to New York City for her upcoming birthday. My mom and mother-in-law came along, so it was a “girls day.” We went to the American Girl Store, where we had lunch and spent a mint on little outfits and accessories for my daughter’s doll. Then we went to see “Annie” on Broadway. It was a great day, and we made many lasting memories.

My mom had made a beautiful dress for my daughter to wear to New York, with a matching dress for her American Girl doll. My little girl was so excited and couldn’t wait to put it on in the morning. She did so while I was showering, and I assumed that my husband helped her zip it up, etc. She then dressed her doll as well.

At last, we headed to NYC by train, and when we got there, we lined up outside Penn Station to hail a taxi. As we walked along the sidewalk, a grate in the ground blew warm air upward, and created a “Marilyn Monroe” with my daughter’s dress. And in that moment, my daughter flashed all of midtown Manhattan with …her bare hiney.
That’s right. No underwear. She hadn’t put any on. A W E S O M E. My mother was appalled, which made it even funnier.

And so, my almost-six-year-old spent the day commando roaming around The Big Apple and having the time of her life. Like I said, lasting memories.

My daughter has been growing her hair long. It’s down past her shoulders now, and she’s asking me to style it differently each day (which we’re both enjoying). It’s become a bit coarse because of the chlorine from swimming (for only 10 minutes at a time, mind you … this is all anyone can fit in between the raindrops and thunderstorms this summer. No bitterness here). The other night, I gave her a brush and asked her to run it through her hair while my husband read her a bedtime story. I went in to say goodnight to one of my boys. His soft nighttime music was playing, and I dozed off in his room for a while (and consqequently never made it back to my daughter’s room to kiss her goodnight … deliquent mother). At 3:00 AM, I heard a voice next to my bed:

“Mommy, we have a little hairbrush problem here.” It was my daughter, who had fallen asleep with the brush in her hair. Now it was all tangled up in there, and the handle was sticking straight out of her head. As moms, we wake up in ways we could never have imagined before having kids, don’t we? I managed to free the brush and walked her back to her room.

Fast forward 2 days. She was playing upstairs and came down to see me in the kitchen, calmly stating, “Mommy, this time it’s not a hairbrush problem but a bubble gum problem. I was chewing my gum and turned my head to say something to my American Girl Doll, and the gum got stuck in my hair.”

It sure did. It wasn’t just “stuck.” It was somehow interwoven into her braid.

“Mommy! Remember you told me that peanut butter can get bubble gum out?” she asked a bit too enthusiastically.
“Yes …” I answered, trying to pull the gum out with my fingers first.

Out came the peanut butter. My daughter found this hilarious.
“I have peanut butter in my hair!” she kept giggling. (What a waste of my favorite food in the whole world, by the way.)

We got the gum out with the Skippy and a good shampoo. My boys are going for haircuts tomorrow, and it may be more than tempting to bring my daughter along! I’m thinking pixie cut …

My husband is referred to by my children as “the fun one at the pool.” He comes by it naturally, having been on swim team at age 5 and growing up spending his summer days at the pool. He loves the water. Me? Not quite as much (which is funny, since I grew up with a pool in my backyard. Even funnier was my un-enthusiasm for the beach — I was raised on Long Island, with beaches fairly close in every direction … I should’ve come by a love of water naturally … But I didn’t … And I digress).

Yesterday all 3 of my kids only wanted to be with Fun Daddy in the pool. We’d spent a good part of the last 4 days at the pool, and it was no secret to anyone that my husband was more entertaining in the water. He dives. He races. He throws the kids through the air. He does flips off the board. He goes underwater and waves to them.

At one point, my daughter asked me to play a game in which we would take turns sticking our faces into the water. This didn’t sound appealing to me in the least. I’d barely gotten out my polite “I dont think so” before she swam off toward my husband (who promptly stuck his whole head underwater). A big part of me was tempted to get out of the pool and hightail it to the nearest mall. Nobody would miss me anyway. Okay, so maybe I DON’T typcially enter the pool (AT ALL) until the month of July because the water’s too freakin’ cold. So maybe I’m NOT the world’s most water-savvy mom. But damn it, I can be fun in other ways. You should see me bake and decorate a birthday cake!

On the way to the pool today (a sullen day with Daddy back to work), my daughter reiterated the fact that Daddy is the most fun in the pool. “He’s fun AND funny,” she said happily.
“Yeah,” agreed my younger son. “Mommy doesn’t catch us from the slide or the diving board, because she might drown.”
“I can do all of those things without drowning,” I said, “but you guys always ask Daddy instead.”

There was a strange silence in the car.

Uh-oh, I thought. I’m up. Better get fun. Fast.

I did. I played games and raced with my kids in the water. I caught them off the slide. I threw them into the air and played water basketball. I had them stand on my knees and pretend to waterski. I stuck my face in the water. And I had a blast.

I’m sure I’m still not quite as much fun as Daddy, but I don’t need to be. My kids know I want to be with them and share in the fun. That’s all they care about.

…Me too.

I was going through my 4-year-old’s papers and projects from his preschool class when I came across his class photo. I gasped then laughed hysterically at the sight of it. My son, at some point, took a black Sharpie and drew mustaches on nearly everyone in the picture … including the principal).

When I asked him why he did this to his class picture, he responded simply, “Because it’s funny.”

Of course. Duh, Mom. Everyone looks better with a mustache. Just sayin.’

So yesterday I’m at the supermarket (by myself … monumental), and as I slowly wheeled my way down the bread aisle, a woman came flying toward me from the other direction. She was clearly in a flustered hurry, and her much less frantic tween daughter moseyed along behind her, pushing the shopping cart.

I stopped briefly to choose a bag of hamburger buns and left my cart a few feet away. The tween, most likely not paying full attention, crashed into it with her own cart. Her mother, Mrs. Flustery Whirlwind, got annoyed. “Watch where you’re going,” she said through her teeth.

“I am,” answered Tween, as all Tweens do.
Mrs. Whirlwind continued her frantic search for whatever. Tween, again most likely oblivious, crashed into my cart with hers a second time.
“That’s it!” barked Whirlwind. “We’re switching! Push this one!” And she proceeded to grab the shopping cart and give her daughter the handles of what she’d been pushing (I havent even noticed, in the eye of the tornado) …. an umbrella stroller with a sleeping baby in it.

(Um, Lady? Pardon me for noticing, but at least the cart Tweenie was pushing wasn’t alive. You got angry because she kept ramming into things with it. So you decided to give her the baby, fully exposed in the front of the stroller, to ram into stuff? Interesting move).

As I followed the family to the end of the aisle, I found it hard to stifle my not-so-quiet laughter. Frustrating parenting situations are somehow funny when you’re without your own children.

Normally I am very empathetic to and non-judgmental of parents of all kinds … But I’m sorry, this was just too funny for me to feel badly for Whirlwind. Slightly sorry for the poor kid in the stroller, though …

The other night after dinner, my children asked to go out into the front yard to “listen for Mr. Softee” (his arrival is a daily hope they hold on to, whether they’ve earned a treat that day or not). Standing on our front step, I heard strange, high-pitched squeaking coming from a holly bush outside our front door. The sound started and stopped repeatedly. I finally separated the branches of the bush and peeked in. There were four newborn birds cuddled together in a nest. They chirped for a few seconds at a time and then cuddled quietly.

I called my kids over to see this miracle of nature; it was clear these birds had just been born. They were so intrigued and, of course, crowded as close as they could to try to have a look. The birds got slightly flustered, and one of them leaned too far forward. It began to fall head first out of the nest. I quickly reached my hand in to catch the little baby bird and was able to gently place it back into the nest (all the while wondering if the mother bird was going to peck me to death for touching her baby … I survived without pecking). I was glad I was able to save the tiny bird.

Each night this week, I’ve been awake for several hours at a time, thinking and worrying about one of my children, who is struggling with some things I’m not exactly sure how to help with. When my get-up-and-workout alarm went off at 5:45 this morning, it was hard to keep my eyes open (they may have been partially swelled shut from a combination of crying and not getting enough sleep). For some reason, the first thing I thought of when I awoke was that baby bird I had reached out to save from falling into the prickly leaves and branches of the holly bush. I thought, “If only it was that easy to “save” my children …”

Suddenly, I realized that I CAN save them. Life is “prickly,” just like the holly bush, but my love for them is that “hand” that reached out to save.

Love, patience, guidance. These things, extended to our children regularly, can “save”
them. No, we can’t protect our kids from all the dangers that exist in this crazy world, but we can LOVE them. LISTEN to them. GUIDE them. LAUGH with them. REACH OUT our hands – and wide-open arms – to them. A child who knows (s)he is loved will be okay.

Too much rain and too many thunderstorms so far this summer.
I blame Brad Pitt.
Since he cheated on Jennifer Aniston and started looking
like Grizzly Adams, everything can be his fault.

#callmeweirdbutyouknowjeniscoolandhewashotterpre-Grizzly.

Motherhood is a job we may absolutely love but never get the hang of …
After all, it is constantly changing. Although we may sometimes feel as
though we are living the movie “Groundhog Day,” no two days, hours, or
minutes are ever exactly the same.

My mother-in-law said to me recently, “When your children are small, your
problems are small also. As your children grow, your challenges grow as well.
Scary but very real.

When our kids are little, we dread the “Santa Claus” talk.
As they mature, we dread the “birds and bees” talk.
When our kids are little, we are bummed when they won’t pose
for an adorable photo.
As they become teenagers, we’ll be glad that there is one less photo of them
that can possibly appear on the internet.
When our kids are little, the word, “NO!” is something we grow tired of
hearing from them.
As they become young adults, we pray that they will be able to say, “No!”
politely yet forcefully when standing up for themselves.

Quite simply, motherhood is unpredictable, challenging, and special …
A job only a woman could do!
Moms, let’s pat ourselves on the back for all of our accomplishments, and
say a prayer for the future challenges we will face.
Quite simply, we stand strong.

I keep reading and re-reading this very simple
yet powerful quote:

“The attitude that you have as a parent is
what your kids will learn from, more than
what you tell them. They don’t remember
what you try to teach them. They remember
what you are.”
– Jim Henson

I love this. It reminds me to keep myself
in check and to remember what really matters.
(It also reminds me that only a man, who
never has to deal with PMS, or any uterus-
related hell, could make this statement with
such confidence … Look at the difference
between Kermit and Miss Piggy). In any case,
it tugs at my heart strings.