I have a baby book for each of my children. Of course, they are all filled out in different degrees of completion, but they all have a book to record the moments of their childhood. Page after page is filled with "firsts." The first time they: sat, rolled over, said "mama", and slept through the night (oh praise be the gods of infant sleeping). It has a place for first steps, first foods and the first day of school. Each with a spot for the date and thoughts about the event. I confess not all of them are filled out even though the tasks have been accomplished. However, each one of them is permanently embedded in my brain. I remember these firsts. For each child.

Last night my teenager came in the room and sat down on the couch beside me. He was all limbs...long legs and arms. Awkward, yet in that stage where he is between a boy and a young man. How is this my baby? As I stared at him I began to think. Obsess, really. When was the last time I picked him up?

I mean, he is now a good inch taller than I am and weighs what a 5'8" male should weigh. There is no more picking him up. But when did I last pick him up? Was he crying? Was he just tired of walking? Did he need just a bit of comfort or snuggling? Was I tired and frustrated that I had to pick him up and didn't cherish the moment? I wish I could remember when it was. I am sure, as it had happened a thousand times before, for whatever reason I had for picking him up eventually passed and I put him down. Never to pick him up again. I had my "Last time that I..." moment and never even knew it. And cannot even recall it now.

When was the last time I sat up in the middle of the night with my tween and rocked him to sleep after a bottle? Did I stay alert and stare into his eyes, memorizing the way he looked in that moment? Did I caress his baby cheek and love how soft and smooth it was? Or was I too tired and rushed the moment praying he would fall asleep quickly? After I rocked him to sleep and placed him in his crib, did any bit of nostalgia hit me? Probably not because I had no idea that would be our last middle of the night date with just the two of us, the rocking chair and soft music.

I thought I would never forget the last time I changed my last diaper of one of my children, but I have. With my daughter being the end of the diaper line in our family, you would think there would have been a parade to celebrate, but there wasn't. I wiped, changed and sent her on her way like I had done with my children thousands (or it feels like millions) of times before. That day she took off her diaper, went into her drawer for "big girl" underwear and we never went back to diapers again. I never knew it would be the last diaper I would change of one of my own children. Another last forgotten.

Continue reading "Do you remember the last time you did it?" »

Posted by Jenn Satterwhite at 2:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

Last night one of my partners in crime and I were deep into discussions about major issues in the media and debating the finer merits of modern literature over the classics, when..…Yeah, right!. I totally couldn’t keep that one going with a straight face. We were totally dishing about life and motherhood. It was then we stumbled upon why we both love the television show Lost. For the two or three of you out there who have not seen the show Lost, this might not make sense. But for those who are familiar with the show and are parents—especially of teens—there are many correlations between that show and the real life drama of parenthood.

We (the parents) have been thrown onto the Island of Parenthood without any idea of the “right way” to survive. We quickly learn that the best way to handle the entire situation is to band together. And much like the castaways of Lost, many of us would probably not have met each other had we not been put in these same circumstances at the same time. Together we are doing the best we can to make keep Parental Island a peaceful and safe place to inhabit.

The beloved Teens? They are the Others. You can hear them, but you never actually see them. Their mumbled taunts and silent grumbles make your stomach tighten up a bit in fear, but you aren’t even sure what they are saying. And let’s be honest, they can certainly make you feel like you are crazy. It is not unheard of for one of the Parents to frantically grab another and anxiously question: “Does yours roll his eyes? Have you ever heard her say that? Could they possibly eat that much food? How big DO they get? What do they want?” And that whole having to push a button at regular intervals in order to prevent the end of the world? We refer to it as the ATM.

In order for The Others and The Parents to inhabit Parental Island, there are rules that should followed. They aren’t law, but it is definitely recommended to abide by them. A few of them include the following:

Find a buddy and stick with them when traveling in this new territory. Do not go into the area inhabited by The Others after dark. Never underestimate the power of the Others. Whatever you do, do NOT get caught alone in a group of The Others. There is no guarantee you will survive or not be traumatized.

I am sure that the day will come on Lost when all will be revealed regarding the secret of The Others. I heard that day will come with teens. I am doubtful. Very doubtful.

Posted by Jenn Satterwhite at 3:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

When I became a first time mom, I'll admit it, I devoured the parenting how-to books. I am pretty sure I had all of the most popular titles as well as quite a few of the lesser known as well. I read whenever I could. While I was pregnant, I went to Childbirth Education Classes and a How to Breastfeed Class every week for about 6 weeks. I surrounded myself with the tools and advice of the self-proclaimed experts. I wanted to make sure I did this "mothering" thing well. I looked to the experts and those who had gone before me to reassure me that I was capable of raising this little person without causing too much harm to his psyche. I researched all of the "right" ways to burp, change and rock a baby. I was ready. I was armed with knowledge. I am mother hear me roar!

As my children aged, the books changed. As they went from one phase to the next, the books became fewer; the parenting from the hip style became more apparent. The books have also become more focused on one or two aspects of parenting rather than covering entire phases. Welcome to the teens; you’re on your own! The experts have left the building. (Unless of course you count the true experts. The parents. We are the ones standing on the sidelines of our teens' lives looking perplexed and a bit overwhelmed.) What I need is a book with practical advice on getting through this. Something with chapter titles like these:

“How to Make Yourself Invisible When Dropping Off Your Teen Anywhere, Anytime.” Because let’s face it, your teen will need you to drop him off many times at various places but really wishes you didn’t actual exist. I have discovered that singing “It’s Getting Hot in Herre” is not appropriate drop-off behavior. Which of course, means I do it more often when he give me attitude!

“My Teen Only Writes In IM-Net Lingo…Will He Ever Get Into College?” With the ever increasing popularity of Instant Messages, most teens have created their own language. AAMOF, U need the 411 if u have POS, KWIM? (Translation: As a matter of fact, you need this information if you have your parents over your shoulder. If you know what I mean.) See? I don’t see Harvard all over that essay.

“Getting Your Teen to Speak To You: Going Beyond Whatever, Huh? And The Four Syllable Version of the Word Mom” How often have you tried to speak with your teen about his day or his social life only to be rewarded with a riveting “Whatever, Mooooooom!” There must be a way to have a conversation with more than one word responses that do not involve the words “I need” and “money”.

“Toilet Training Made Me Mental But Teen Training Just Might Kill Me!” There was a time I couldn’t wait until my children were old enough to do things for themselves. Now, all they want to do is to do things for themselves. By themselves. With nothing but my money to aid them. Certainly, there is a middle ground in there somewhere. Show it to me.

"Convincing Yourself That Eyerolling Really Does Mean ‘I Love You” My children have always been masters at eyerolling. Masters. But honestly, I believe there must be a secret class taught in middle school that helps them to bring this skill to a mastery level. I have yet to see a teen who is not the master of the eyeroll.

But as I said, I have yet to see this book. Have you? What chapters would you add if you could?

Posted by Jenn Satterwhite at 4:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (24) | TrackBacks (0)