Shooting the Raised Eyebrow.

A graceful, and wise friend once told me..."the more I am a mom, the more I am less judging of other moms." As I venture deeper into this parenting adventure I am getting the gist of what she was saying. We are all just getting by doing what we need to do to make it to bedtime healthy, semi-clean, and with a daily adventure under our belt (and probably a few bribe snacks). Funny, the most judging comments I have received from 'friends', are the ones who have no kids. It sure was easy for me, in my no-kid-ilton days, to send a raised eyebrow to the father who took his 4 year old to the dreaded McDonald's, or a mom, who allowed her daughter to have genetically unattainable barbie dolls. "How plain wrong", I would mutter as I peddled my too-cool-for-school bike from the outdoor education program I managed to go have beers made with organic hops). If there were hybrids and I could afford one, I would have been driving one. I look back now and think, "how so very ordinary, Terry."

Two tailbone breaking births, a neo-natal 'your baby has a brainstem injury' scare, bloody breastfeeding nipples, and two sassy little girls later, I am singing a different tune. Actually, I am bellowing a different tune from my basement while folding laundry cleaned in hypoallergenic soap. Sure my kids drink hormone free milk, just planted a chemical free herb garden, attend a oovey-groovey private preschool, and have over-priced Waldorf dolls that they have no interest in. I believe in that type of parenting. I also combine it with a healthy dosing of sugar vitamins, dancing with the stars nights, and family outings to the demo derby where gas fumes whip the audience into a blurred stupor while daddy drinks canned beers purchased in a large bag.

To all those parents-to-be, with grand ideas of what is right and wrong parenting. Know that the day too shall pass when you will be sitting in judgement of the purple wad of bubble gum you just gave your 4 year old to get him to sit through a rehearsal dinner...and the next time, instead of sending out a raised eyebrow, you will sit in amazement of of how families just get through the day...healthy, semi-clean, and hopefully with a daily adventure that fills their sleepy little heads with dreams of what is possible.

I have to go now , my girls are fighting over cowgirl barbie and some chicken McNuggets.

Lamenting the Cool Chick

I used to be pretty cool. I mean if climbing mountains in Alaska, or kayaking the Grand Canyon is your idea of cool. Sleeping under the stars on the Sea of Cortez, drinking cold water straight out of a glacier, trolling for fish from the stern of my kayak was my job, not my dream vacation. One year I spent over 300 days in the wilds kayaking with icebergs, or rafting southwestern rivers as petroglyphs and ancient ruins floated by. Oh yes, I used to be one pretty cool chick. Lately however; that cool chic has taken a bit of a vacation. It seems that one husband, one black lab, and two little girls later the cool factor has been replaced by the drool and gruel factor. Gone are the days of waking with the off shore breeze, and sleeping with bergies calving in the distance. Today I awake to little elbows digging into my ribcage and toddler cries a wet nappie snapping me out of my drowsey bliss. I guess adventure does not have to come in the form of snow-capped mountains, class 4 rivers, or wave-swept seas. Today my adventure comes in little pink socks, tiny fish crackers and crayon marks on the kitchen wall. At night when I put my little adventures to sleep, I close my eyes and smile when I think of the great adventures that await them. I think of the cool chicks that that they are going to be...that they all ready are, and how I would gladly trade any mountain in the world to be rolling and cuddling on the floor with my little girls, my black lab, and my husband...now that is cool.