“Mommy? Did your Mommy have loo-kia-meee-ah?”

My back was turned at the sink when my 6 year old daughter asked me this direct question with only 10 minutes left in our morning routine to get out the door. Instantly, I felt like a Mack truck had slammed into my gut. I braced myself with the counter and tried to turn to face her sweet face. She was chewing her frosted mini-wheats and her spoon still dangled in the air. I met her eyes and started to answer but the words did not come. Instead, my eyes  welled and the tears fell.

I had never cried before in front of my daughter.

I have never used the words, “breast cancer” or “leukemia” to describe my mother’s health battles so I was shocked by her question.  To date, I had only shared that Mommy’s Mommy was now in heaven and that she had gotten very sick and that God needed her to do angels’ work.  This explanation had seemed to suffice – until now… when the questions came at me, like a tsunami.

“Honey, where did you hear about leukemia?”

“We are doing Pennies for Patients at school. It’s for loo-kia-meee-ah.”

“Leukemia.” 

“Yes. There’s a Kinderfriend that has leukemia and we raising money to help them.”

“That’s wonderful honey.”

“So did your Mommy have it? What is it?”

“Well… “

And here’s where I’d love to say I handled this parenting challenge beautifully and gave her the most age-appropriate explanation of what ‘cancer’ is and why some people get it and some people don’t. And how I comforted her fears about what this scary disease was and how, yes, even sometimes children get it.

But I didn’t .

Instead I blubbered my way through an extremely lame metaphor of how cancer cells were like bad Lego blocks in your body that stop doing their intended job. I’m pretty sure I confused her the minute I said Legos. Heck, I don’t even know what I was talking about… I said something about needing medicine that works really really hard to ‘poison the bad cells’ so they go away. To this she asked:

“Mommy why does the medicine make your hair fall out?”  Clearly, she had more information than she was letting on.

A second Mack truck slammed into my heart.  The tears came and the words got stuck in the back of my throat like a hard lump. I wasn’t ready for this.

“Mommy, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Oh jeez, please make it stop.

“No honey, I’m ok. I’m just sad.” *tears. gasp. sob*. ” It just makes me sad to think about when my Mommy was sick.”

Again, I made a dismal attempt at a mini-Biology and Chemistry lesson that was appropriate for a 1st grader.  I told her the medicine or “chemotherapy” was supposed to target the bad cells but didn’t always know the difference between the bad Lego blocks and the good ones so sometimes it had to attack the cells that make your hair. She seemed satisfied with the answer and went back to eating her mini-wheats.

“But Mommy, why doesn’t the medicine always work?”

And then I was at a loss. It was a great question. Why can’t we fix this? Why can’t we have a cure for cancer?

“I don’t know honey.”

Luckily my husband was still at home and when I closed the bathroom door sobbing, he was able to run interference.  I told him about the brief conversation over mini-wheats and how worried I was that I’d freaked our daughter out by crying in front of her. Through my tears, I tried to tell him how worried I was that she would think she made me sad by asking about my Mom, which is the last thing on earth I’d want her to feel and how I’d done a horrendous job explaining what cancer was. So he called her in and between the 3 of us sitting on the toilet seat and the edge of the tub we had one of the most meaningful family chats to date. With his help, we reassured her of why Mommy was really crying and how it was ok for me to cry and how it was ok for her to ask questions. Together we tried to explain ‘cancer’ and what it was. We didn’t dwell on it but made sure she was ok with it all.

Thank goodness he had been home.

For the rest of the day, all I could think of was how badly I wished I would never have to explain ‘cancer’ to my kids. But it was too late, the reality of this sometimes unfair world was here and my kids were now privy to this vocabulary: cancer, leukemia. It didn’t seem fair.

That following Saturday, Anna and Jack organized a lemonade stand to help fill her box for Pennies for Patients and Alex sat with them on the curb. I smiled with pride as I watched my kids continue to help find a cure for cancer. I hope that one day, in their lifetime, they will be able to tell their kids: “Cancer WAS this horrible disease that took your great-grandmother, but we helped cure it.”

Wouldn’t that be great?

Pennies for Patients

The post Mommy? What’s Loo-Kia-Meee-Ah? appeared first on Periwinkle Papillon.

My new bloggy friend, Kelly over at Dances With Chaos (her mommy blog) and Writing With Chaos (her amazing writing blog) taught me a valuable lesson: “Don’t get mad, take a picture.”

She actually has a mantra:  ”Don’t Get Mad/Pissed/Angry About It – Take a Photo and Blog About It.”

It helps. It really does.

Here’s what I found yesterday, and I tweeted it out as part of my therapy.

sorry kids, this isn't exactly my style

The kids had “decorated” with a copy of Home Decorators latest catalog. Only problem is they hung that sucker up with STAPLES. Yup, it was STAPLED to the wall.

Another bloggy friend, Jessica over at Four Plus An Angel also has an amazing blog and also has some really fun link ups. At the moment, she has the My Kids Are the Messiest linkup. So I thought I would submit this post as I have a few entries from the archives…

There was the time Anna helped me pack her for an overnight at her grandparents’ house. The ENTIRE contents of her closet were on her floor.

Helping to pack for trip

Then there was the time that they decided to do experiments using margarita mix and ketchup. Yes, those were good times..

Then there were the moments that I did not grab my camera..

Like the time when Jack cut his hair, or when they decided to use a liter of sunscreen, each… or when they washed my floors… or when they needed face paint and used my mascara.

Ah yes, this parenting stuff can be fun.

So if you have some moments that taught you a lesson in patience, and you grabbed your camera instead of losing your cool as Kelly recommends, go and linkup at Four Plus An Angel.

Love,

S.

The post Don’t Get Mad, Take A Picture appeared first on Periwinkle Papillon.

So Friday night I went to dinner with friends and our kids. Alex was working late so I went solo.

After a relaxing greasy feast of Mexican specialties, including a house margarita, the kids started to get antsy in the 95F heat. (We were out on the patio).

They asked if they could check out the fountain, one table away, behind a young couple’s table. The margarita in me persuaded my otherwise strict self to conceed and the kids wandered over to check out the scene.

Immediately I saw that we’d made a mistake.

Clearly the young woman was irritated by the presence of three kids at her table and her date, who was busy on his cell phone, was even less enthused by his new visitors.

The table was out of earshot, but we watched, as the bo-hunk paused his cell phone conversation to say something to the kids. Whatever it was he said, they froze, confused. I saw Anna mouth the words: “What?” And he repeated it.

From the couple’s body language we knew it was imperative that we call the kids back, which we did with a sense of urgency.

The kids complied.

Five minutes later, my friend asked me: “Did you hear what that a**hole said?”

“No. What?”

“Get out of here or I’m going to pour hot sauce on your eyeballs.”

“He said what?! WHAT???”

Some time had passed and as I sat there, my blood started to boil.

I glared at this Neanderthal and his cheesy girlfriend. I glared and tried to burn holes into the couple’s foreheads.  I was so pissed I didn’t know what to do.

WHO TALKS TO CHILDREN LIKE THAT???

Yes, we should not have let them interrupt their meal. That was bad. OUR BAD. Not the kids.

I’m not one for scenes, but sometimes with a little liquid courage I might make one.

But the kids were there and it just didn’t seem appropriate. After all, I felt partly responsible for condoning the excusion in the first place.

So I continued my glare as we paid the check and I exchanged obnoxious glances with him as we walked out. Only AFTER warning the patrons who were waiting for our table to steer clear of the unfriendly couple by the fountain, in a loud enough voice that I thought would carry. (It was the least we could do).

So what would you have done? Raise hell in front of your kids?

Ignore it ?

Maybe I should have done this?

The post When to Make a Scene? appeared first on Periwinkle Papillon.

I know it’s unusual for me to post three times in one day but when you get something as great as this in your inbox you have to share.

Here’s Julia Sweeney, of SNL fame, performing a monologue on how ‘the Birds and the Bees’ conversation went with her eight year-old daughter, Mulan.

As I was watching this I realized I’m within 2 years of having this conversation with my OWN daughter. (To my hubby: If you fell of your chair while reading this, don’t worry, we’ll get through it!).

Enjoy! and don’t get forget to enter the Fabkins giveaway!

Special thanks to MDW for sending this to me and to Big Geek Dad for originally posting it!

The post The Birds and The Bees appeared first on Periwinkle Papillon.

I just read the funniest “parenting” book online. It’s called Go the F*ck to Sleep by Adam Mansbach and illustrated by Ricardo Cortés.

It’s hysterical because it rings so true. As parents we’ve ALL muttered this phrase at one time or another, or maybe we still do, EVERY night. To those of you, I say, stay strong and hang in there.

This book will be the next best gift for all new mothers at baby showers. Actually I just pinned it on my board of Best Newborn Gifts. Go see!

According to a New Yorker article, the book morphed from a Facebook status update about his 2 hour struggle to get his daughter Vivian to sleep. Now it is a beautifully illustrated 36-page rant on the topic.

It is on pre-order at the moment, but it went viral in the last couple of days when a PDF version of the galley was sent to booksellers and was leaked.

Not cool.

It is really really funny.

And while I have a copy of the book in my inbox, I’m not going to link it here, because I hope you will support a writer and go buy a copy for all your pregnant friends.

Here’s an excerpt:

The cats nestle close to their kittens now.

The lambs have laid down with the sheep.

You’re cozy and warm in your bed, my dear.

Please go the fuck to sleep.

Sounds eerily familiar right? Just wait until you see this book. It’s great.

The post Go The F*ck to Sleep appeared first on Periwinkle Papillon.

My son Jack has new best friend, please meet: Mr. Invisible.

He’s his new imaginary friend, although he’s less of a playmate and let’s say  more of a scapegoat.

We first were introduced to Mr. Invisible about a week ago when a package of Oreo cookies went missing. The chocolate ring around my four year old’s mouth made it pretty clear what had happened to them but we decide to ask him anyway. You can imagine our shock when our sweet little boy who always tells the truth told us point-blank: “It was Mr. Invisible.”

Source: Shadow Desktop

Um, ok… this is new.

My first reaction was to try not to laugh.

“Mr. Invisible, hunh?  Does he know about our rule of not eating in the bedrooms?”

“Um no, I think he forgot.”

Then my son continues to tell me that Mr. Invisible is really peacock but sometimes he’s a flamingo. In my mind, I’m picturing the NBC mascot. (Maybe because it’s Chuck Todd‘s profile picture on Twitter – who knows).

My interpretation of Mr. Invisible

I’m not reading into any of this, I’m told this is all VERY normal.

We went along for a little bit and asked some more questions about our new houseguest, Mr. Invisible. We learned that he definitely has a sweet tooth and doesn’t mind at all being throw under the bus by our son. In fact, after we met him, he started getting blamed for a lot of things. Toys being left out, more snacks being snuck, TV shows being ‘mysteriously’ turned on and odd hours.

So, we had to make a new rule in the house.

If Mr. Invisible gets into trouble so does Jack.

He was fine with that, at first… Until the caramels went missing and both he and Mr. Invisible found themselves in looong time out.

That was two days ago.

Earlier today, Jack told me that Mr. Invisible has decided to move out and go stay at his friend Nathan’s house. When I asked him why, he said because “he just wanted to be free.”

Good because I am running out of cookies!

So check your cookie drawers and be warned, if there’s any missing, there’s a hungry invisible flamingo/peacock on the loose!

[button link="" type="icon" icon="question"] Does your child have an imaginary friend? [/button]

The post Please Meet Mr. Invisible appeared first on Periwinkle Papillon.

YAY! Dr. B at MommyShorts is going to help me!

Here’s the dilemma I’m currently dealing with, it has to do with hair…

Anna has been independent straight out of my womb. She decided to come a week early, sleep on her own schedule (which meant not much) and recently, in addition to dressing herself, now insists on doing her own hair before school.

Most moms would rejoice at this level of independence from a five year old, anything to help get you out the door on time right?

But while I am proud and grateful, I am also extremely worried that Child Protective Services might knock on my door one day soon.

See, her independent “hairstyle” borders on looking “unkempt” and almost neglected, which I can assure you, she’s not.

It’s not her fault, really it’s not.

She has uncooperative hair.

See?

It’s fine, a bit limp and doesn’t stay put unless I braid it, tightly.  There’s a pesky wave on the back of her head and her part can’t decide on which side to flop.

But she’s trying, desperately and while it’s incredibly cute and realistically a huge help to me that she wants to get herself ready, I cringe a little bit right before she steps out the door.

But I don’t want to hover like a [learn_more caption="helicopter parent"] Helicopter parent is a colloquial, early 21st-century term for a parent who pays extremely close attention to his or her child’s or children’s experiences and problems, particularly at educational institutions. The term was originally coined by Foster W. Cline, M.D. and Jim Fay in their 1990 book Parenting with Love and Logic: Teaching Children Responsibility,[1] although Dr. Haim Ginott mentions a teen who complains, “Mother hovers over me like a helicopter…” on page 18 of the bestselling book Between Parent & Teenager published in 1969. Helicopter parents are so named because, like helicopters, they hover closely overhead, rarely out of reach, whether their children need them or not. In Scandinavia, this phenomenon is known as curling parenthood and describes parents who attempt to sweep all obstacles out of the paths of their children. It is also called “overparenting”. Parents try to resolve their child’s problems, and try to stop them coming to harm by keeping them out of dangerous situations.[2][3][/learn_more]

I try not to correct or ‘fix’ her mishaped ‘ponytail’ because I want to be supportive and encouraging. I let my son go out with mismatched socks because he tells me he likes them that way. I’m encouraging their individuality right? Or am I just letting them, specifically her, be a target and subsequently embarrassed?

So what’s a mom to do? I’m posing this question to you and hopefully to Dr. B, Mommyshorts‘s sister and child development psychologist. She’s helped others with their questions on nakedness curiosity protocols and how to deal with fear and monsters for example.  I’m hoping she can help me before I add any more future topics to my daughter’s list of ‘future items to discuss with therapist about Mom.’

[box type="info"] Dr. B has answered my question!

Click HERE to go see what wisdom she has for me!

And while you are there go enter the caption contest! Guess who’s judging? ME! For every caption left, a donation of $2 will be made to the American Heart Association.* You have until Thursday night to enter! So show me your funny!!  [/box]

(up to 100 comments)

The post A Hairy Situation With My Kid appeared first on Periwinkle Papillon.

Heading to bed last night, I was exhausted, fried, just plain done.

It had been one of those days where I thought, ugh… I am SO sick of hearing myself say “no!” all day long to the kids. Everything turned into a battle and I’d had it.

So I lay there… wondering what if? What if, I just said YES? Yes, to everything. To anything that they wanted, asked for -to absolutely anything? What was the worst that could happen?

The idea was frightening but also exhilarating. Maybe I could, for just one day, be that super cool mom whose kids adore her, and they never whine, and they never argue or try to negotiate and wear her down. That could be me… for just one day.

So I planned it out. For one day, I would say ‘Yes’ to no matter what they asked for.*

The next morning I woke up and to be honest had completely forgotten about my self-made pact until the first request came in at 7:09AM.

“Mommy, can I have a marshmallow?”

“No.. I mean, wait… Sure.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you can have a marshmallow.”

Oh jeez, what I am doing?!?

Then I thought:  That wasn’t too bad… and my ‘cool’ factor was definitely soaring.

Next came a request for them to make their own salami sandwiches in shapes using cookie cutters, for breakfast.

I grit my teeth… um, okay…

Keep in mind, my two monkeys have no idea that I had made this contract with myself, these are the standard requests that I field on a daily basis. Oh but it gets better.

So after they properly nourished themselves for the day (salami heart shaped sandwiches = breakfast of champions) they headed off to school.  The good part was there had not been any time-outs, no arguing and so far, I’m kind of digging this experiment. I’m a rock star.

After school, they wanted a snack and spied the caramel apples I’d brought home. They wanted it and hot chocolate too.

Um, okay… There’s an apple under those 2 inches of chocolate and caramel right? That’s healthy isn’t it?  Normally one slice would have been my allotment but they practically polished this giant confection off.

Next, they wanted to plant the seeds I’d brought home from the garden show. So I said YES, and we planted tomatoes, red peppers and basil seeds. That was a very nice project together and my seedlings are started, yay!

Dinner time rolled around and I got this: “Mommy I’m going to eat naked”

Um… Great!!

Seriously, do they KNOW that I’ve decided to do this today? Is this a joke?

After dinner my five year old informed me that she was putting on a play tomorrow afternoon at our house and could I please send emails to invite the entire class to come. Oh yeah, and she’d like them to wear their pajamas and for me to give everyone food.

Hold on a second. 19 kids for a pseudo-sleepover?!? OK, experiment officially over.

So what did I learn?

1. Not being able to say no, made me realize how quickly and easily it rolls off my tongue. I need to try harder to find creative answers to the even the most ridiculous requests. Obviously we won’t be having marshmallows as a breakfast snack but it would feel better for me and for them if I could steer them to other acceptable options in another way without saying ‘no’.
2. My kids do not have the best eating habits.  When left to their own devices my kids eat crap.  Not once did they ask for a carrot or water. Yikes.
3. Most importantly, I don’t always have to say ‘no’.  They didn’t have the best diet today but the fun they had and I had with them was great because ‘no’ didn’t stifle our creativity and activities. It was a great day.

So what do you think? Was I nuts? Would you do it? Would you try to not say no for one whole day? Could you do it? What’s the worst that could happen?

* With 2 exceptions, TV would still be limited to 2 shows and I would say no if I thought the request was in any way dangerous.

The post The ‘YES’ Experiment appeared first on Periwinkle Papillon.

Yesterday I got the call I feared would one day come from my four year-old’s preschool.  It went something like this:

Teacher: “Hello, Yes Mrs. M, Jack is fine… but there was an incident at school today.”

 

Me: “Um, ok…” <my heart starts palpitating>

 

Teacher: “You see, Jack was playing in the tunnel at recess and… well… he decided to pee on it.”

 

Me: “Oh no!” <…trying to stop my mouth from grinning…>

 

Teacher: “He was with ‘his Boys’ as he told me and he told me ‘he forgot where the bathroom was.’

 

Me: “Oh jeez…” <full grin now. That monkey…>

 

Teacher: “So he went to the Office for a Time-Out and we talked about where it was appropriate to go to the bathroom and telling the truth. Just thought you’d want to know.”

 

Me: “Great. Thank you for the call. I’m so very sorry. We will talk to him.” <trying not to full out giggle>

So while one side I was completely MORTIFIED to get this call, I was also not entirely surprised. I mean, boys will be boys right? When he got home he was clearly sheepish and embarrassed so the punishment at school registered, just to be sure though I made him write an apology and he also lost time on the computer for the next three days.

Does the punishment fit the crime? I don’t know… What would you do?

The post Boys will be boys… right? appeared first on Periwinkle Papillon.

Follow my blog with bloglovin

Today we said goodbye to Holla, my 5 1/2 year old daughter’s goldfish. He She was more than just a party favor from my nephew’s birthday 2 months ago (just wait dear sister, just you wait…) he she was our pet.

Goodbye Holla. died March 6, 2011

I was shocked this morning when I noticed the fish belly up and bloated in the tank; she had been happily swimming the night before.  Anna immediately burst into tears and sobbed when I stupidly blurted out: “Oh honey, I think your fish has died.”  Clearly I was not prepared for this moment, although I probably should have been.

Because we’ve always spoken openly about “Mommy’s Mommy” and how she’s in heaven now, I thought we had established a good vocabulary on the subject.  Losing a little goldfish wouldn’t be traumatic… right?  But I couldn’t have been more wrong and quickly realized that a 5 1/2 year old has a lot more questions than she did when she was 3.

After LOTS of cuddles and finally dry eyes, we started talking about Holla and how she went to “fishy heaven.”

But when she asked through the sniffles, “Why did Holla die?” I again stupidly said: “Maybe Holla was sick…”

The little voice on my shoulder screamed: “Survey says…WRONG ANSWER!”  Apparently, the first rule in talking to your kids about death and dying is don’t use the word ‘sick’ or else you are going to freak them out the next time they or you come down a runny nose!

Clearly I was botching this explanation so I ran and got one of my new favorite parenting books. I needed a script to follow here as this was just too important to screw up. Luckily I had heard a great child development specialist, Betsy Brown Braun, recently on a Parent Experiment podcast.  She was so compelling that I immediately bought 2 of her books, the first being: Just Tell Me What To Say. It’s become my go-to manual as she has great advice and actual scripts on how to talk to your kid(s) about death and other tricky subjects.

So I literally read from the book, and then went a little off-script and mentioned that Holla’s little fishy body had stopped working and her soul had moved on.  Wait… Her WHAT?… Mommy, what’s a soul?

Er… Ahh… Ummm…. Hold On… <fervently flipping the pages ahead…>… let’s see… ah yes…

So I went on to explain to her, in 5 1/2 year old terms, what a soul is. That it’s the part of you that you can’t see but is what makes you – you. Not an easy concept to explain. The best part was Betsy Brown Braun had a little hands on demonstration you can do with the kids.

1. Find a clear plastic or glass cup.
2. Fill it three-quarters of the way with warm water.  Ask your child to taste it and confirm that it is indeed water.
3. Fill a small cup with granulated sugar. Ask your child to taste it and confirm that it is indeed sugar.
4. Mix several tablespoons of the sugar in the water, stirring until it is dissolved.
5. Ask the child where the sugar went.  Hopefully, she will say that it has disappeared, it is gone.
6. Ask her to taste the sugar-water. She will say it is sweet.
7. Ask her why it is sweet. Hopefully, she will say because there is sugar in it.
8. You will reply: So, the sugar is there even though you can’t see it? It’s like a person’s soul. It is there, but you just can’t see it.”

Genius right? Anna got it and liked the fact that we had done a little experiment too. We moved forward with our day and planned a service to say good-bye to Holla in the backyard. Her four year old little brother, Jack, could have cared less, he kept saying that Holla had already been flushed. Nice, right??

Anna made a card that said “I love you Holla” that we buried with her in the rain.

In the end, I was the only that got teary-eyed over the fish – it was such a sweet and touching moment, but then again I’m the mush.

Following the service, Anna immediately asked when we can get another fish.  Um… ok… I guess you are ok…

So tell me, how do you talk about these trickier topics with your kids? Any good scripts to share?

The post Mommy why is my fish doing the backstroke? R.I.P. Holla appeared first on Periwinkle Papillon.