This is Max home from the hospital with his pacifier

This is Max at 2 1/2 with his pacifier:

Around the time this photo was taken I decided that we were going to be pacifier free by the time he was 3 years old. Max turns 3 in two weeks. I’ve been plotting my strategy around this issue very carefully. I knew that it would take guts, cunning, courage, determination and the ability to overwhelm my enemy. It was not a mission for the weak.

This past Saturday the “Paci-Fairy” (aka Grandma) delivered an empty box for said pacifiers. A box in which the pacifiers were to be placed, sealed and mailed back to the “paci-fairy” in exchange for cash and prizes. Max and Lucy enthusiastically scoured the house for pacifiers and placed them joyously in the box. I was in shock. This was going to be so much easier than I thought. We screamed in joy, we slapped hands in gleeful high-fives and then sealed the box. Instantly Max began to cry and wail “I DON’T WANT PACI-FAIRY TO COME. I NOT BIG BOY!!” I sighed, this was more in line with what I expected. However, I had prepared for this reaction and so with the will power of a super model on a diet I calmly said “no more pacis.”

Bed time came and I was worried. I knew I couldn’t sustain this level of determination without proper sleep and so we conceded to let him have his pacifier at bed time. Max slept fitfully all night, moaning, and crying in his sleep. No doubt the result of withdrawal symptoms. The next morning when instructed to leave his pacifier in the bed the drama resumed; “I WANT PACI. I NOT BIG BOY!!” I steadfastly held my position. We would have no pacifiers outside of bed. After an hour and a half he tearfully complied. My first true victory. I rallied myself and proceeded to make breakfast. Max proceeded to whine for the next 3 hours.

Each day has been an exact reenactment of that first day. The only difference is that the length of whining has decreased and he no longer even thinks about asking for it during the day. My battle spirit is weak. I’m wondering why now, why this date? But alas, we are too far into this conflict to withdraw. Our only option is to continue our strategic offensive, to keep the enemy on his heels, to push him until his will for that pacifier is broken. We have persuaded Lucy to join our side of this battle and now Max has no allies left. He must give up the pacifier if he chooses to live peacefully within the house of Morley.

Some day I may look back upon this time and be wistful, but for now I’m focused on our mission. There is no other option but victory and it will be mine.

UPDATE: A week into this mission and now Max, after much thought, willingly places his pacifier under his pillow in the morning and joins the family. As long as he gets plenty of rest and sleep he seems to be fine. However, when something strays outside of the routine his crying is heartfelt and often long in duration. In the words of George Bush; “Mission Complete”. I think I can safely use that reference here with its full meaning behind it.

I hate insomnia. As a mother of young children I get so little sleep to begin with that wasting my time for no apparent reason is annoying and yet here I sit. The house is dark, cold, still and silent outside of Max’s lullabies softly playing. My friend Kym does the laundry when she can’t sleep or does late night runs to Wal-Mart, but I’m not ambitious enough for that. The aggravating part is what keeps me awake; lists. My mental list of what I need to do in the morning before school, what I need to get done at school, my grocery list, my list of chores, my list of reasons for us to get a dog, my list of reasons for us to move, etc, etc. Each subject neatly compartmentalized in my head and each one spilling into my consciousness. So annoying and so not productive.

What do you do to combat insomnia? To fall back asleep? Sleep, perchance to dream…

We took all of Max’s pacifiers away this week. The inhumanity of this week I will share with you all later, but in the meantime I’m desperate to keep him occupied. As long as his mind is engaged he doesn’t seem to notice that he’s missing his little blue friend. As a result, we took the whole family to see “The Tale of Despereaux”. I was very eager to see this movie since it is based on a book and that appeals to my desires as a bibliophile.

The movie was unimpressive. It was beautiful to look at – stunning. The artistry of the animation was rich and luscious and at times I wanted to just curl up next to the screen and snuggle. The screenplay, however, was disjointed. It felt like there were too many characters and at times the story felt crowded. The voice work was uninspiring since I could never reconcile the voice of Dustin Hoffman with the visual of the rat. The two things never seemed to fit together. Despereaux himself was charming and I wish more of the story had focused on him. I did like the moral and over-arching message of the movie which was to live by a moral code, be honorable, be brave, do for others. A much better message than say that of “Shrek” which is that farts are funny.

Your kids will love this — even kids a bit older (like 8 or 9). There is a fair bit of swashbuckling and a wonderful villain rat. I would stick to matinee prices since I would have been quite upset if I had paid full price.

I hate getting into a cold bed. I also hate waking up in the middle of the night to an electric heating pad stuck to my thigh. Hence I have become a lover of the corn bag. This handy little thing is a pillow filled with feed corn. You put it in the microwave for 2 minutes and it will stay a toasty warm temperature for about an hour – just long enough to warm up the bed. I’ve used these little corn bags to ease aching muscles and to soothe an upset tummy. These are perfect for children since you know they can’t accidentally get too hot or stay plugged in. They are also a cinch to make and with a pretty bow or fancy tag you’ve got a great homemade gift.

You’ll need:

1/2 yard of durable fabric. I bought some decorator fabric on remnant. It cost me $8.00 for about 6 yards. You want a fabric that will hold up to repeated heat and wear. Things like polar fleece, or quilting cotton won’t work. Chambray is great.

Deer feed corn. I bought a 40lb bag at my local TSC for $6. Since you only use about 2 cups per bag this is going to last me a looooong time.

You are fundamentally making a small pillow. I used a Martha Stewart Living magazine as a template for mine. You want them a bit bigger than a piece of paper but not too large. Sew your pieces like a pillow and leave a place open to fill your bag. I left half of one side open. Then turn your “pillow” inside in and fill with corn. You want to fill your bag about 2/3 full. If you put too much in you won’t be able to sew it. Too little and it won’t retain heat for very long. Once the corn is in then pin your opening shut and top stitch around the whole “pillow”. This provides a second layer of stitching which will help keep the bag securely closed. Be careful that you don’t run over a piece of corn while sewing, it will snap your sewing machine needle in half. (not that I would know anything about that). Easy homemade gifts is what works for me.

How many of you have watched the new videos produced by Momversation? I like them, although secretly angry that nobody has asked for my opinion. I also find myself disagreeing with many of the “moms” on these video discussions. The most current topic is which is more difficult, motherhood or marriage? Apparently, I’m in the minority on this topic.

For me, marriage is SO MUCH EASIER THAN MOTHERHOOD. I’m always amused when people say to me, “you guys must have the funniest arguments.” Although I’m flattered that people find David and I so funny we have had very few funny marital arguments. I am the kind of wife that cries at a drop of the hat and so most of our arguments include me crying and David rolling his eyes. However, no matter how angry, frustrated, sad, or crazy I get I can ALWAYS talk to David and he can understand what I’m saying. He may not agree with what I’m saying, but he understands the words coming out of my mouth.

Motherhood is filled with pitfalls and moments that make you crazy. David has never asked me to get him chocolate milk (or any other beverage) while I’ve been sitting on the toilet. He has never tried to ask me to fix his My Little Pony while I’m talking to the doctor’s office. He has never purposefully spilled his Diet Coke on the floor to see what would happen. He has never asked me to wipe his bottom while I’m eating breakfast. He has never willfully ignored my requests to put his shoes on even after I’ve repeated it three times, or touched the public toilet with his hands and put them in his mouth during which I’m yelling “DON’T TOUCH THAT!! DON’T TOUCH THAT!!” and then “NO!! DON’T PUT THEM IN YOUR MOUTH!!”

I love my children, and I love being a mother but it is by far the hardest job I’ve ever had. I’ve sat in meeting rooms with angry men yelling at me because their $500,000 project is now going to cost $2.5 million. THAT experience was far easier than trying to get Max to sleep through the night at 9 months old. I’ve locked myself in my bathroom numerous times to cry out of sheer fatigue and feelings of failure. No job has ever made me feel that way but motherhood.

Marriage is hard, but it is so much easier to maintain than children. All I have to do to keep David happy is scratch his back and watch movies with him (and I’m not even talking about “adult” movies. I’m just talking about whatever came in on NetFlix). All he has to do to keep me happy is do the dishes and take me out once in awhile. Our needs are simple. Perhaps it is because David and I have had such good marriage role models in our parents, or perhaps it is because we have never violated the trust in our relationship. I don’t know the answer, but I do know that my marriage has always been comfortable and full of respect. Motherhood, on the other hand, feels like every day is my first day of boot camp.

Whenever we spend the holiday season in Texas it ends up being a three-Christmas affair. This year was no different.

Part 1 – In Nacogdoches
We spent five days with my in-laws this year and celebrated Christmas Eve and Day together as a family. These five days were uneventful except for the annual brotherly argument. I love my brother-in-law. I do. He has a zeal for life that is contagious and a wonderful sense of humor. However, he and David have a way of resorting back to ten, maybe thirteen year old boys when

together. This inevitably brings out the worst in each other. The topic of argument is irrelevant, what is predictable is the escalated voices, the name calling, the threats and the not speaking. This lasts for less than an hour and then there are apologies, hugs, jokes and peace is resumed. It is like a thunderstorm blowing into the house – you can see the clouds building but there is nothing you can do to prevent the inevitable. You just have to have faith that the rainbow will return, and it always does. My sister-in-law and I have learned to blissfully ignore the argument, wait for the storms to blow over and then we both put on our peacekeepers hat and negotiate an accord. Men, brothers, they make no sense.

Part II – At Home
Once we returned from Nac we had four days to do a couple of projects at home. Our biggest project was to reorganize our home office. Our home office is approximately 12′ x 11′ and every inch of wall space is covered in shelves — and I mean EVERY INCH. It gradually became that way when David and I were running our business out of our house. However, that was at least 4 years ago and we no longer need half the stuff that is cluttering our little space. I finally transitioned my desk from being that of an interactive media project manager to a working professor. It feels good to have SEO reports from 2001 in the trash and my current copies of textbooks and resource material around me. I’m a geek, but I’m comforted by having my books around me.

Part III — At the Lake
David’s family owns a wonderful house on a nearby lake. Every New Years weekend is spent at the Lake celebrating the final Christmas event with the entire extended family. This includes 40+ people. It is a wonderful time complete with chili-cook off, Christmas Pageant performance, and gift exchange. Although it borders on chaos, everybody has a good time and it is always nice to see how big the family has gotten since the last get together.

David’s grandmother (who lives there permanently) has wonderful pet doves. However, the pet doves have multiplied over the years and she now has close to 20 pet doves. For an 85 year old woman this is quite a bit of work to keep up with and it was decided that something HAD to be done about the birds. Friday morning David’s Uncle Bo killed the doves, cleaned the doves and by Friday afternoon they were wrapped in bacon, stuffed with jalapenos, and sizzling on the grill. Although I did not eat any, David’s grandmother did. There is something authentically Texan about killing your pet birds in the morning and eating them in the afternoon.

Our car was burglarized last night. This will be the third time in the seven years we’ve lived in this house. I know some of you may be thinking; “wow, what a bad neighborhood” but you see that is the joke. I LIVE IN THE SUBURBS. And when I say suburbs I mean the quintessential suburbs of Dallas. We are 45 minutes north of Dallas. There are no crack houses, prostitutes or gangs running around our little bedroom community. Nope, just bored teenagers who are looking to pawn money for drugs. (At least that is what I’m telling myself). Each time our car is ravaged I’m struck by the stupidity of the thief.

Break In #1 – the car was unlocked (lucky us) and he took my case of CD’s. Joke was on the burglar since they all had been copied from real CD’s and thus he couldn’t actually sell them. What value is there in a CD with “Christina Aguilerra” scrawled across it with a Sharpie marker?

Break In #2 – He smashed our passenger side window (car locked this time – unlucky us) and took my book bag from school. I’m assuming he was looking for a computer and when none was found kindly dumped my book bag in my neighbors yard. All contents were returned to me with the addition of bugs in my bag and $150 to fix the window. The burglar did NOT take our satellite radio which was adhered to the dashboard with velcro, my case of CD’s or even my day planner which had our bank account numbers in it. Very smart

Break In #3 – Car was unlocked (lucky us) and he kindly opened every compartment in the car and emptied the contents on the front seat. This time the joke was on him because having just arrived home from being out of town we thoroughly emptied the car (in order to sort through everything in the house). I don’t even think there was an old french fry in our car.

These break-ins are in addition to the prostitute who showed up at our house one night and the vandalism we suffered to our giant, inflatable, Halloween snow globe. (I will spare you the details but alas we had no snow globe for this year). I guess I’m old but I really don’t understand the motivation here. We live in a very nice middle-class neighborhood with good schools. If these are kids doing this for kicks — well, it frankly isn’t funny. If it is kids doing it for drug money then get smarter about what you are stealing. (Our neighbor said they tried to steal his 100lb hydraulic jack, but when they realized how heavy it was they dumped it 6 doors down).

I share this with you as a cautionary tale. Let me summarize the lessons learned here.
#1 don’t lock your car
#2 don’t leave expensive things in your car overnight
#3 the suburbs are not safe
#4 teenagers are as stupid today as they were 50 years ago.

Perhaps I should leave a personalized note and some home-baked cookies in my glove box just in case they come to visit again.

Goal setting and resolution making seem contradictory to parenthood. I can set the goal that Max will be potty-trained by July or that Lucy will be reading by October but I’m not the one that actually has to achieve these goals – they do. I remember years ago my parents lamenting the fact that parenthood NEVER stops. This idea that you are done when the kids are 18 is a ridiculous myth, because it is when they turn 18 that the job gets hard. It is at 18 when kids start making the really important life decisions and who is still there guiding them? Mommy and Daddy. How do you know when you’ve finally crossed the finish line of parenting? When are we done?

I suppose each parent defines parental success differently. Whether we consciously or subconsciously realize it we are all raising our children to be a certain kind of person and it is this idealized person that is our imaginary finish line. I want my children to be educated, inquisitive, imaginative, charitable, honorable, emotionally strong, physically healthy and spiritually happy.

Am I all those things?

I can’t help but wonder if my parents have passed the parental finish line. I just called my mother the other day to ask her how to thread the bobbin in my sewing machine. I still call them to share my successes, ease my burdens, and calm my worries. Isn’t that still parenting? Have I become the kind of person they set out to make me? And even if I have, does that free them from their parental duties?

I suppose our responsibilities lessen, our children grow less needy of us and us of them. Now, while Lucy and Max are little they need me to survive and as they enter young adulthood they will continue to seek my approval. Some day, some undefined moment they will need neither of these from me. They will be able to care for themselves and their family. Will I then cross the finish line? Parenting is made for the long distance runner. The person who is slow and steady, consistent in spirit, and bottomless in strength. I am not eager to reach the end of this race and would like to prolong the finish line for as long as possible.

Thank you to Michelle from Scribbit for the ideas as I send my post off to her monthly Write-Away Contest.