To my 5-year-old Wildflower

Dear Phoebes,

It's an April Saturday night. You wanted me to lay in bed next to you tonight while you read me some Dr. Seuss books. You are just learning to read. We read "The Foot Book" and part of "Hop on Pop." It was right after Ed, Ted, and Ned in Bed that you said, "I'm tired. Let's read the rest tomorrow."

You jumped up out of bed saying "I'm gonna go get my bookmark." You had made a rectangular bookmark cut from the middle of a plain white piece of paper earlier in the day. You had colored it purple and decorated it. Just one of a million art projects you and your sister create on any given day.

You remembered exactly where you had put your bookmark from hours earlier - in the middle of a religious coloring book that my cousin had sent you all for Easter. Your memory often surprises me. You are the only person in our family that when you lose something, I can say, "Try to remember where you left it Phoebes. Think back in your mind to the last time you had it." And then you stand and think and then a light bulb goes off in your brain and you run and get whatever it is. That always amazes me and Daddy.

I was lying on your bed holding the place where we left off when you bounced back into the room and put the bookmark in its place. You slipped the books onto your bookshelf and hopped into bed next to me. You love your bed. You love feeling cozy. And to be honest, as your mama, there is not much that makes me feel more like I'm succeeding as a mother as when I tuck you into bed at night and leave you feeling snuggled and safe.

We were lying next to each other just holding hands and then you asked me for a "baa-bee." Yep, on most nights I still warm up some milk for you and you sip it out of a sippy cup. It's the only time you still drink from a sippy cup. Even though you are such a big girl, this bedtime ritual reminds me of how little you still are. You still crave the comfort of warm milk before bed and well, as your go-with-the-flow mama about these types of things, I don't mind at all.

I know one day, unexpectedly, you will no longer ask for one just like your sister did one day with her pacifiers. She was 5 too then. I had brought her the pacifiers like every other night of her life and on that one evening, she stated clearly, "Mama, I don't need them anymore." And then I left the room and cried. So I suspect this will happen for you soon too. This letting go of the last of your "baby/toddler" habits and you will officially become my big girl.

I guess that's why I am feeling inspired to write this to you. To cement with words your 5-year-old you because 5-year-old girls are just the most magical creatures on the planet. It's a bridge year it seems. This year between 4 and 6. You are straddling two worlds. You are living deep in the forest with the fairies and the ponies but you are also sitting in a classroom in a uniform making new friends and beginning a life that is only yours.

Phoebes, you are the only one of our children who entered this world in a whisper. Your arrival was calm and peaceful in a quiet hospital room with late afternoon summer sun streaming in. You gracefully slipped out in your dainty 8 lb 12 oz way. And that is just you Phoebes. Dainty and strong.

You are my wildflower.

You float through a room with a bounce and a lightness that is mesmerizing. Your mind is constantly whirring away with stories and songs and thoughts and your heart is always overflowing with emotion. It doesn't take much to make you laugh or cry or scream. Your mood changes as each second ticks by. But whatever mood it is, it is filled with passion.

You make me laugh with your smiles and your frowns. We have a game where I ask you to go from a smile to a frown because only you can do it so extremely so instantly. You are wildly unpredictable. You seek to be the center of attention and at the same time, you will quietly remove yourself from the action. As chaos swirls around the house, I will often find you in your room playing with horses and dolls and fairies whispering to yourself fantastical story lines.

You are a dare-devil beauty. A skinned knee, a face plant off a skateboard, a busted lip and bent teeth on a playground, a dislocated elbow - you have cried, yes. But your bravery always wins out. You are tough. You are strong. And yet your heart is as soft as they come.

You feel too deeply for such a young soul. Your mind can't possibly figure out why your heart feels as it does. You can't stand to see your sister sad, your brother hurt, your mama mad. Especially if I'm upset at you. I can't treat you like I do your sister. You melt under harsh words directed at you. I do my best to remember this but in the chaos of daily life, I often screw up. But one look in your tear-filled eyes tells me I have overstepped the boundaries of you.

I will keep trying to get better at this, Phoebes. I should be better at this. We have similar hearts, you and me. But I also have the stubborn exterior of my father. You do not. Your heart oozes out of every pore in your skin. There is no barrier protecting you from the harshness of the world. Although some may see that as a potential weakness, I see it as a strength. You are firmly planted in this life because you love life. Just like I do.

You love to cuddle with your mama and as we lay in bed arm in arm tonight I said as I often do, "I love you Phoebes."

And you asked, "Will you love me forever?"

You know the answer to that question but I said, "Of course Phoebes. I love you forever and ever and ever."

And then you said, "I want to be with my mama forever and ever."

"We will be together forever and ever Phoebes." And then after a slight pause I said with a smile, "Until you get really big and become a teenager and then you won't want to hang out with me that much."

"Oh no, no no! Not that's true mama! I will always always want to be with you! Even when I'm big!!" And you clutched my hand, rolled over on your side and squeezed me tight.

I hugged you fiercely and when you rolled back onto your pillow, I looked at your small delicate hand in mine. Your fingers are so thin. They look exactly as I imagined they would look when I first saw them when you were newborn. Daddy and I marveled at your long, thin fingers on the day you were born and we said to each other, I wonder if she'll be a musician. She has the fingers of a musician. Well, you don't play an instrument yet but you have music in your soul, there is no doubt about that. A day has barely gone by without me hearing you sing a made-up song to yourself or watching you dance on the back deck to a tune only you can hear.

I got up from the bed to go prepare your warm milk. When I returned I dimmed the lights and jumped back into bed next to you. As you sipped your milk, your eyes started to flutter close and I watched as sleep gradually took hold. I love how when you begin to fall asleep, your mouth will do the exact same thing it used to do when you would nurse and fall asleep. It's like a little vibrating, sucking motion that your lips do instinctively. All of my babies have done that. I wonder if all babies do. Pretty soon, you stopped sipping, the cup fell to the side and your grasp loosened.

Sweet dreams, I whispered.

I stroked your cheek and stared at your 5-year-old face trying to memorize what it looked like when you told me you wanted to be with me forever. And my eyes welled with tears as they often do when I stop and ponder the miracle of you. I touched your rounded cheeks so soft and babyish still. I ran my finger along your curved eyebrow and pushed your blonde wisps alongside your head. I felt as I if I could stare at you forever right then. One of the few times when time is literally standing still for me. Frozen in awe and crazy love.

You have a few more months of being 5 and although you are excited for your birthday as you always are, I am hanging onto you right here and right now. The age when you are learning to read and count and the world is literally opening up before your eyes; the age when a pair of princess slippers and a crown can transport you to a castle; the age where your imagination rules the day; the age when tears can turn to laughter in a split second; the age when twirling and jumping and swinging is all you really need; the age when clearing your plate and cleaning your room can make you beam with pride; the age when all you can imagine is wanting to be with me forever.

Phoebes, you humble me with your capacity to love and be loved. You make me want to be a better mama and a better person. Your name means radiance and light. I thank God for the light you shine in my life every single day.

I love you, my 5-year-old wildflower, forever and ever.

Mama

• Photos taken on a November afternoon for no reason at all - just because you are five.

Conversations with my Kid - The Birthday Bouncer Edition

I took Phoebe, my 5-year-old kindergartener, to a birthday party of one of her classmates on Sunday. The entire class of 35 kids was invited to this family's home.

Whaaa?????

Mind.Blowing. That mom must be a saint or on some seriously effective relaxants.

We walked into the backyard, said our hellos, and within two minutes, Phoebe ran to the quintessential modern kid birthday must-have - the Bouncer.

As long as there's a bouncer, I know that I will be able to actually hang out and chat with the other moms. And chat I did. I checked in on Phoebes from time to time and she was having a blast.

During the cake eating portion of the party, I glanced over and saw her and a little boy from her class sitting together eating and chatting. They seemed to be in their own little world. I thought "Awwww, how sweet."

After they ate their cake, I saw them run to the bouncy house together, slip under the netted entrance, and disappear into the gaggle of sweaty, jumpy bodies.

After the party was over and as we walked to our van with goodie bag in hand, I asked Phoebes, "So, it seems you were having a lot of fun with that little boy today."

"Yep," she answered more interested now in the treasures that lie at the bottom of the plastic goodie bag.

"I saw you guys talking and eating cake together and bouncing together. That's nice Phoebes. I didn't know you guys were such good friends."

"Well," she said, "we were having a lot of fun together today playing games in the bouncer."

"Oh yeah? What kind of games?" I asked.

"Well, I made up a game called 'Tickle Me' where he would chase me and try to tickle me, and he made up a game called 'Fall on Top of Me.'"

"Oh," I said laughing to myself. "And what was the point of that game?"

"Well, I would fall down and then he would, uh, fall on top of me."

Ahhhhh, you gotta love the innocent games of 5-year-olds.

Now if these two are still playing this game in 8th grade?

Then we're gonna have some problems.

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Do you have a "Conversation with Your Kid" that you would like to share? Link up your post below and I will come check it out!

It's been a slow build to get people involved in this little Friday fun, but it's a blast and a great way to remember all of those conversations that happen each and every week that I, for one, would surely forget without writing them down.

Happy Friday!!

Conversations with my Kid - The Ryan Seacrest Edition

On Wednesday, I had the too rare opportunity to spend some alone time with my second-born, the light, lovely, sassy, love-fairy of my life, my 5-year-old Phoebe. My lil' dude was home with a babysitter, my oldest, Claire, went home from school with a friend for a special play date, and so I trekked on over to the school to pick up Phoebes for some quality one-on-one time with her mama.

The plan was to go to the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica so we could run errands together. I know. That sounds like awesome quality one-on-one time. But she was cool with it. And if you know anything about the Promenade, it can be a fun place for kids. There's treats to buy, street performers to watch, and these dinosaur-hedge structures that spit water out of their mouths.

Who can't get behind a water-spewing hedge dinosaur?

Exactly.

And on Wednesday afternoon, Phoebe also had an intense desire to find a clown. This surprised me because her feelings about the clown species are usually not happy ones. Depending on the day, she fluctuates between an intriguing fascination to watch from a safe distance at these painted face masters of balloon-bending to an all-out run-away as fast as she can deep fear of the people with the large red noses.

And on the Promenade, the clown that's usually around is this guy:


So when she said she actually wanted to find a clown, I was all huh?

But whatever. I said we would keep an eye out.

Not long after our Promenade stroll began, we happened upon a group of people who seemed to be gawking at something. We just couldn't see what. Perhaps it was our clown?

Nope.

It was this guy.

Now, I've defended Ryan Seacrest on Twitter when he was being lumped together with Billy Bush. I mean, really? I like Ryan. He seems like a sincere dude when he deals with all of those American Idol families and well, he's won me over.

Phoebe and Claire have JUST started to get into watching American Idol. They like watching the judges decide whether or not the person will be going to "Hollywood!!!!" And they don't yet grasp that Hollywood is just a grungy place about 20 minutes away from where we live. So when we saw Ryan sitting at a table for lunch, we stopped and stared with the other scattering of onlookers.

I explained to Phoebe who Ryan was and that he was from American Idol and didn't she recognize him? She wasn't sure but before she could think much more about it, this happened:



Yep. We witnessed a flash mob. (If you pause it at 1:32, you will see me holding Phoebes in the background. Not like you care. But it was fun for us to see!)

And after all that, the Ryan Seacrest sighting, the music, the crowd, the dancing, the kissing, the glamour of it all, Phoebe simply turned to me and said,

"Can we go find a clown now?"

Sorry Ryan. But my 5-year-old finds a half-baked street clown a little bit more interesting than you. But if you could learn to make balloon animals? Then you would have a fighting chance.

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Like all internet sensations, "Conversations with my Kid" is building slow and steady. (ha) But really, if you want to add a link to a post that YOU'VE written about a conversation with your kid, then add the link below. And I will check it out!

Have a great Valentine's Day weekend....hope you find lots of time for kissing those you love.

A Weekend of A Marine Layer Fog of Mothering with One Breakthrough of A Clear Sunny State of Mind

Written by Lee

I realize that I spend too much of my mothering days in a haze. A brain fog. A preoccupied state of mind with zillions of lists and to-dos racing through my head. A step away. An inability to live in the moment. With a look in my eyes and a smile on my face that may seem a tad distant.

Am I here?

Can anyone really grasp me as I fluctuate between guiding and ordering and forcing and bribing and smiling and yelling and crying and folding and cleaning and moving? Always moving.

There's no stillness in this gig of motherhood. Except maybe, just maybe, in the middle of a dark night when I'm sitting in my rocker with my 2-year-old dude in my lap while the moonlight streams in around the edges of the shades. And the slow creak of the rocker that has glided and rocked all of my babies for the last seven years seeps into my thick skull and lulls me into the moment. Finally.

Finally.

Maybe that's why I'm still waking up at least once a night with one of my kids. And deep down maybe I'm not that bummed about it. I'm okay with three-thirty AM. Only there is where I find the stillness and when I feel the quiet.

Moments of this weekend challenged my mama soul to the core. Defiance. Disobedience. Irreverence. Attitude. Sending me into my worst state of mamadom. That blood-boiling point where I feel raw with every nerve exposed and any minor thing makes my voice sound like a shriek no matter what I say. A squeal of laughter only sounds like a scream. Each voice yelling "MAAAAA.....MAAAAAA" sends me into a tirade. The stuff left to do crushes me and I stand pissed off at the kitchen sink mumbling under my breath about how damn annoying this mama gig can be.

And the haze thickens. That marine layer fog in my brain drifts in and hovers. And I am gone.

Am I here?

But as the weekend winds to a close and my three spirited souls are now simply my sleeping beauties and my boiling blood has started to simmer down and I'm able to take a few deep breaths and the tightness in my heart relaxes and the good vibes start to circulate once again, my mind decides to go to the sunniest part of our time together where clarity and calm and fun and love and just us broke through the haze and warmed my soul.....

A couple hours spent on the sidewalk with our hearts and eyes wide open and clearly able to see the stuff that truly sustains us through the blurry times.

Here's a glimpse of that sunny sky time. Phoebe's first day riding her bike SANS training wheels. Taken with our new gadget of a video camera that my gadget-obsessed husband bought for us.

Here's to sunny skies!!!!

A mother seeking that ever-elusive sign of success

Written by Lee

Am I succeeding at this mom thing?

Am I?

When will I see a clue, or catch a glimpse, just anything to tell me that I'm doing okay?

When I worked it was easy. Producing television programs, starting something, and then finishing it. Working hard, being stressed, using my brain, interacting with the world, getting a pat on the back once in a while, working late, working long, but then done. A finished project. A feather in my hat. A line on my resume. Done.

And done.

As a mom, I am never done. And it's taken me a while to figure that out. And daily I work on getting peaceful about that fact - that I will never be done.

And I need to jump into that undone feeling and embrace it. Wrap my soul around it and squeeze it tightly. Make it a part of me. Wear it like a favorite t-shirt. Let it seep into my skin and settle into my bloodstream. It's me. The new me. A mother. And I will never be done.

But why is it so damn hard sometimes?

Why do I snap inside when the demands seem never-ending and the rewards are elusive? I wake up each morning and slowly surrender again and again and again to my job as a mother to three young kids....but more often than not, I find my mind seeking validation - that clue, that glimpse, to show me, to tell me, that I may be succeeding at this being-a-mom thing.

In the midst of the usual chaos of a day, it's hard to see any sign of success. My kids are normal kids. If they clean up their room, they talk back. If they behave nicely in public, they hit each other in private. If they do their homework without me reminding them, they drag their feet getting ready for school. They listen once out of a million times it seems, and one moment, I swear I see genuinely loving, kind little people, and the next, I see overindulged, manipulative kids.

But once in a while, a ray of success sunshine peeks through and it's always when I least expect it. All of a sudden I get smacked in the head from an unexpected place. A clue jumps out from the shadows to remind me that actually, all is okay in my mama world.

We spent a week in August at a house on a lake a couple hours east of LA with my in-laws and extended family. In the middle of a late summer afternoon with a houseful of family scattered about busy with a variety of summer activities, I walked into the kitchen one day to get some water. At the far corner of the long dining room table sat my Phoebe, just a couple weeks past her fifth birthday.

This is what I saw:



And in a flash of a moment when I least expected it, I was flooded with a feeling of fulfillment and the rewards of being a mother came rushing in. As she sat quietly with the summer lake sun streaming through the large windows, she played. With her hands. With shadows. With her bursting brain of imagination and story. And I felt totally and completely at peace. With all that had ever happened up to that point in time. All of the questioning and doubting of myself as a mother and yearning for validation was gone. And all that was left in its place was the present feeling of joy and the simple satisfaction of watching my daughter explore her world.

I am doing okay, I thought. I really think I am.

I stood and watched for a few minutes without her knowing before I rushed to get my camera so I could remember this moment. For myself. So when I forget the feeling, I could look back at these photographs and hopefully feel it again.

I am a slow learner I guess. Maybe I'm hard on myself. I don't know. But I do know that being a mom is damn hard.

But a pair of five-year-old hands playing shadow puppets transported me to a place where everything suddenly seemed very clear. Where all of the stress and questioning and yelling and needing to control and seeking validation didn't matter one damn bit.

A pair of shadowy bunny ears on a silent summer afternoon. A gift to me.

I think I'm doing okay at this mama thing. I really think I am.

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To our readers new and old alike:

As we kick off getting back into the groove this Fall, I am reminded again and again of why I started this creative space. Moms Without Blogs was begun with one simple message - "Being a supermom is simply a state of mind." But it blows my mind how easy it is to forget that one fact in the midst of the storm that can be modern-day mommying. I hope your visits here will renew your mama soul as you encounter like-minded women who desire nothing more than community, expression, and raw, fresh honesty.

We are beginning a new feature here called "Affiliate Friday" where we will feature one of our affiliates as a guest blogger for the day. I think it's important to get to know the other voices that support the mission of MWOB. As we continue to grow our community, I hope you will consider joining forces with us and we look forward to getting to know you.

For today, I hope you gain a second of clarity in the middle of a hectic Monday to gaze at your own little sign of mama success.

'Cause we are all doing okay at this mommy thing. I really think so.