Happy Chaos and Punky Power

 9 Responses »
Jan 092012
 

I grew up with jelly bracelets, bright neons, Rainbow Brite, My Little Pony, and everybody’s favorite 80′s kid, Punky Brewster. Surprisingly, I’ve never had the chance to name a dog Brandon. I’ll have to remedy that.

For now, I’ll just focus on the fact that my childhood hero has grown up with me into a a powerhouse of a mom with two adorable little girls, her popular Moonfrye.com site, over a million twitter followers, an eco-friendly clothing line called The Little Seed, and her role as Target’s Mommy Ambassador. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not one to run out and buy the latest celebrity memoir, but when I was offered the chance to read and review Soleil’s new parenting book, Happy Chaos: From Punky to Parenting and my Perfectly Imperfect Adventures In Between, I decided my childhood dream of becoming Punky’s best friend was just a blog post away from coming true. I’ll keep you posted on how that works out, y’all.

Happy Chaos shares stories from Soleil’s childhood (she once had Johnny Depp show up as a surprise guest to a birthday party), precious moments with her children, and perhaps most importantly,  brings us non-celebrity moms right there with Soleil when she shares how she’s learning to accept that the mom she thought she was going to be is not the mom she became once her children were born. The beauty of it all is in the journey of discovery with our children.

And while not every mom can relate to a roster of celebrity BFFs or boast about directing her first film at the age of 18, reading Happy Chaos reads more like a chat over a cup of coffee with a girlfriend than anything else. Part memoir and part parenting manual, Happy Chaos reminds us to embrace the crazy that motherhood brings while taking a moment to celebrate the magic of cutting an apple sideways just to show our children the star inside.

 

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Soleil has graciously offered a signed copy of Happy Chaos: From Punky to Parenting and My Perfectly Imperfect Adventures in Between with one Aspiring Mama reader. To enter, simply do one of the following (or more for extra entries!)

* Leave a comment for Soleil on this blog post.

* Tweet, Facebook, Google +, or include a link to this post on your own blog. Each counts for it’s own entry, so be sure to leave me one comment letting me know what you did so I can add up points!

* Comments will be accepted through midnight, EST, on Monday, January 16.

* One winner will be selected via Random.org and will be announced here on Aspiring Mama shortly thereafter.

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I’d like to thank Soleil Moon Frye for offering me the chance to share her book with all of you.

 

Validation

 No Responses »
Nov 022011
 

I’m standing in the canned food aisle at the market, trying to keep track of my shopping list while shuffling Buttercup along with me.

“What do I need to put in the cart now, Mama?” she asks me, eager to help.

I check my list. Next up are the ingredients for the black bean chili.

“Six cans of black beans,” I say, waiting to see what she’ll do next.

Buttercup puckers her lips in concentration and looks hard at the cans of beans on the shelves. Each can has a photo and black starts with the “buh buh” sound, right, mama?

“These!” she says excitedly as she shows me the correct can.

“Ok, how many did I need again?”

“Six!”

“Right. So, gimme six cans.”

I watch as she runs between the cart and the shelf, one can at a time, skipping right by the number five like she always has, and I gently correct her. The job is done and she’s ready for her next assignment.

“Excuse me,” I hear a gentle voice behind me just as a soft touch lands on my shoulder. I turn to see an elderly woman standing there, smiling up at me. I instantly step to the side, thinking I am in her way, but she stops me.

“I just wanted to tell you, dear, what a lovely job you are doing with your daughter. So many times you see the little ones kicking and screaming when out with their mamas when all it takes is a little bit of thought on your part to get them to think a whole lot on theirs. She’s learning,” the woman says, nodding her chin at a smiling Buttercup, “and you should be proud.”

And I was.

***

Buttercup and I are walking hand in hand across the parking lot on the way into my doctor’s office.

“Thank you for letting me bring my baby in,” she says, clutching her doll to her chest.

“That was your choice. Now, what did I tell you will happen if you ask me to hold her?” I gently prod.

“That’s easy. You said I bring her in so I have to bring her out.”

I nod. “Exactly. If you give her to me, I’m handing her to the first little girl I see.”

She looks up at me and studies my face. Nancy Drew is trying to determine how serious I am.

Buttercup charms the nurses and the doctor and acts the part of an angel until the very minute I say it’s time to leave. That’s when she suddenly decides she is tired and can’t possibly carry her doll one more step.

“Will you carry her, mama?” she whines, placing her doll on the chair closest to her in the waiting room.

I shake my head firmly. “What did I say on the way in?” I ask her.

“I dunno,” she says, looking away from me. So I remind her.

“You brought her in so you bring her out. If you put your doll down, I’m not picking it up. If you give it to me because you got tired of carrying it, I’m handing it to the first little girl I see,” I say, pointing to a child sitting next to her mother in the waiting room. I’m suddenly aware that we have an audience and both mother and child are staring intently, waiting for our little scene to play out. “How would you feel if I suddenly got tired of taking care of you and just left you sitting here while I went home?”

Her eyes wide, Buttercup reaches for her doll and holds her to her chest again. “That would be horrible.”

“Exactly,” I say. “You are my responsibility. And that doll is your responsibility. I take care of you and…”

“I take care of my doll,” she finishes for me.

“Good girl.”

The other mother is smiling at me. A we leave, she gives me a nod and gives the a thumbs up. And I suddenly feel like I might survive motherhood.

Or at least today. Yeah, today I can handle.

This Breath

 11 Responses »
Sep 022011
 

I just had sex with my husband on doctor’s orders because my ovaries finally decided to kick out a few follicles that might turn into eggs that might turn into a baby or quite possibly a litter and I’ve got to tell ya, I’m not sure if I’m rooting for Team Infertility or Team Modern Medicine to come out the victor. The first I already know and can handle. The second is shiny, new, and…

I can’t wrap my mind around what I don’t know.

Disclaimer: Wait, what? Me? Sex? With my husband? If you know me in real life from before social media existed, please stab yourself in the eyeballs with the nearest semi-sharp object and let yourself continue to believe that we brought Buttercup home with us after holding hands while skipping through a cabbage patch field.

Of course, the deed *ahem* has been done and I can’t undo whatever fate may have in store for us anymore than that hairdresser at Great Clips can emotionally unscar the teenage boy who broke into tears after she complimented him on his new Justin Bieber-esque look before he left with his mother who kept reassuring him that he and every other boy in America or at least Tucson younger than 20 do not, in fact, look like Belieber groupies in denial.

Even though he totally did.

I can’t undo. And it’s not the um, doctors-orders-homework that has me all a titter. Life is good in the land of The Married. He drives me crazy. I drive him crazy. And when things get boring we pretend to argue just to spice it up a bit. The issue that has me wondering WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST DO? is the fact that I may have voluntarily and irrevocably changed the simple reality I know and love for allowing me to not go any crazier than I already am.

She can walk. She can talk. And she’s fairly self-sufficient on the potty front. She goes to school a few hours for a few days a week and makes herself laugh silly with really bad knock-knock jokes. She’s four going on fourteen going on forty and she’s the miracle we waited almost two years for that I didn’t know would become the reality I wanted until I held her in my arms for the first time because I’m the kind of person who is so afraid of change that I’ve trained my brain not to want the unknown and instead accept the new today once the wind has already changed direction.

It’s true. I don’t want to go to Paris or Italy or dream of cruises or tropical islands because I have never experienced them. I have no desire to try something crazy just so I can say I did it because that would require planning and foresight and a willingness to not be so rigid but if I happen to be out on the town with a friend and she decided on a whim to stop in a piercing shop I can’t promise I won’t come home without a dainty little nose piercing. I didn’t plan my wedding as a girl growing up or sign my name with the Crush of the Week’s in doodle hearts while dating because I that would have required me dreaming about What If instead of focusing on What Was. And when I finally came to the moment where The Boyfriend became The Fiance who became The Husband as I walked down the aisle to become The Wife, I was In Love and In Awe and In Flux between states of complete calm because Life was Happening and Utter Terror because Life was Happening.

It wasn’t until the day after graduating high school, arriving on my college campus, graduating with honors, starting my first job, moving in with The Boyfriend who became The Fiance who became The Husband, pushing the baby out, moving cross-country Anything Important that Has Happened in My Life that I’ve had pretty much the same thought process work itself out in my mind: That wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be, you jackass. Well, except for maybe the pushing the baby thing out. She was totally worth it but Dude! That pretty much sucked. This is what was meant to be and where I was meant to end up. This moment is magic and I really need to lighten up and allow more magic to just spontaneously happen because that’s how life works.

I know this. And yet, I sit here…wondering what I want the doctor to tell me when it’s time for results and how I will react. Wondering if I can love another baby as much as I love the miracle that already is. Wondering if I am enough to mother more than once child and nurture them both completely in the way that is singularly unique to their own beings and needs without falling short and thinking I should have quit while I was ahead.

I wonder because I don’t know. And I won’t know until tomorrow comes. Until then, I concentrate on this breath…

And then the next…

Go the F*ck to Sleep

 No Responses »
Jun 172011
 

Love it or hate it.

Those seem to be the only camp divisions when it comes to Adam Mansbach’s new not really for children children’s book, Go the F*ck to Sleep. It’s really more of a I Finally Got The Little Bastards into Bed after Promising Them Ponies and Rainbows and Am Seriously Hoping I can Convince Them the Entire Conversation Was Just a Dream Because There is NO F*CKING WAY I am Buying Them a Pony and Amazon Doesn’t Have Rainbows Available for Free Shipping and Good F*CKING GAWD I Need a Glass of Wine Right Now kinda nights.

Do I even need to clarify which camp T-shirt I brought home?

My favorite page?

The eagles who soar through the sky are at rest

And the creatures who crawl, run, and creep.

I know you’re not thirsty. That’s bullsh*t. Stop lying.

Lie the f*ck down, my darling, and sleep.

Why? Because I have BEEN here. And honestly, so has every parent in the world at some point in time. The silently uttered F-bombs are optional, of course, but you’ve been there, too. In between the hugs and the kisses and But Daddy I’m scared’s and Mama I need to potty’s, a few How the hell long is it going to take to get this kid to f*cking sleep tonight’s start to work their way into the good ole’ internal dialogue.

Adam Masbach didn’t invent the wheel, people. He just wrote about it first.

Well played, Adam. Well played.

Meagan Francis on Motherhood and Happiness

 8 Responses »
Apr 272011
 

I’m normally a Nook kind of girl. And my first question to author Meagan Francis via Twitter after seeing one of her national television interviews promoting The Happiest Mom was to ask how long I would have to wait to download a copy.

Which-side note here- was just an awesome example of the immediacy of social media. I think Meagan was still at the studio when she tweeted back. And that’s when I looked at The Husband and was all, “See? I am having An Actual Conversation with a real published author who WAS JUST ON TV. How cool am I?”

About a week later I found myself at Barnes and Noble and decided to just buy a hard copy of The Happiest Mom. What sold me? The cover. See that So Cute it Makes You Happy Just to Look At It book at the top of this blog post? ? Yeah…trust me. I’ve had the book for about a month now and I still find myself smiling involuntarily when I happen to see that pretty mix of happy on my desk.

What’s even better is that it’s not a book full of empty promises or Let Me Tell You Why My Way is Better empty promises wrapped in a pretty package. The Happiest Mom is more like a rational girlfriend who dishes advice that makes sense without making you feel like she is being preachy or judgmental because SHE GETS WHERE YOU ARE COMING FROM.

I’m a mother of one. I am in constant awe of moms of More Than One and sometimes find myself wondering how my own mother never had to get fitted in a white coat raising five girls. And I will gladly admit here that part of the reason I still have only one (she’s almost four years old now) is because I constantly find myself torn between feelings of inadequacy (How can I handle more kids if I can’t keep it together with one?) and frustration (How can I handle more kids if I can barely keep it together with one?) Bottom line? I love my kid but I can’t honestly say I’m happier as a mom than I was Before Baby. How can I be? I have so much to do!

My to-do list is living (and breathing) document on my smart phone, and I am not exaggerating when I say that if I don’t type in Remember to Breath after Wash Laundry, Put Laundry in Dryer, Take Laundry Out of Dryer, and Fold Laundry, I don’t remember to do it. I am overly anxious and freak out when the slightest thing doesn’t go according to plan. And I am always frantically running around trying to remember where I left my bank card. (Last time I lost it when I decided to mark my place in The Happiest Mom. Yeah, I know. The Husband told me my life would be so much easier if I just took five seconds now to get off the couch and put the card back in my wallet instead an hour of driving to the bank and back home to get a another replacement, too. He also told me to breathe, take some time for myself, and stop wishing my stress away. I told him to shove it.)

Then Megan told me (in her book) that part of one of her secrets to being a happier mom is to take time now to do that extra step, like putting the laundry away right after folding it instead of leaving it in a pile on top of your dresser and leaving a bigger mess for later. She also suggests breathing, taking some time for myself, and to think of happiness as a skill that would be a benefit to everyone in my family if I mastered (Think Go with the Flow). And I nodded my head and declared her a genius for thinking up such original advice.

That’s when The Husband told me to shove it.

The Happiest Mom is full of gems and broken up into ten chapters in which Meagan shares her secrets to staying sane (and smiling) while raising her own brood of five. Love Your Life, Make Your Bed, and Aim Low, Go Slow are just a few examples of the discussion topics Meagan leads with a rare but welcome blend of authority and warmth. Never once does Meagan suggest she knows all leaving you with the feeling that she is telling you why her way is better and yours is not. Instead, she shares the happiness skills she has learned along the way (like figuring out your Must Do’s on your To-Do list and saying To Hell with The Rest) and offers suggestions on how to incorporate them into your own life and what works for you.

Buy it. Read it. Love it.

And then send a tweet to Meagan Francis or leave a comment on her blog letting her know how happy you are.

I did.

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Ready for the good stuff? You know…the part where I tell you to leave a comment sharing the one change you’d like to make in your life to become a happier mom and I tell you that two winners will be selected next week to receive copies of The Happiest Mom? Yeah…that part.

Make sure I can get in touch with you via twitter, facebook, or email if you win! Contest will close at midnight, EST, on Wednesday, May 4.

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