Tonya

My Body

Posted on April 23, 2013 Written by Tonya

Debi, better known as Doctor G, is my guest today.

Doctor G is a part-time family doctor and full time mom of four boys, she focuses on practical tools and teaching skills, not just dishing out advice. From one minute tips on making your life easier while building kids’ character to her downloadable guides (chores at every age, boundaries for tech use and more) Doctor G makes parenting more simple and more effective and I have sought her advice many times!

Debi’s letter to her body really touched a chord with me because it’s one that I should write. How many times have you heard, “your body is your temple?” It’s one of those ideas that sneak into your consciousness and you don’t know where you actually heard it.

Take a minute to appreciate your temple.

To my body,

I just want to say thanks.

Thank you for my childhood. A smattering of illnesses – I don’t think either of us can forget the particular panic of waking in the middle of the night with a raging ear infection, too little to understand what that sharp pain is. The chicken pox weren’t so bad (though I wish you hadn’t given it to my Dad – I was so scared when the ambulance came to take him to the hospital because he got them inside his lungs!); I wouldn’t eaten chicken til I was 5 or 6 after that. You really withstood the sprains and breaks and I am seriously sorry about all the sunburns. Sunscreen – who knew?

My teen years, well, I think we can both agree I should have exercised a little more. On the plus side, though, I didn’t give any illegal substances during that time. Strangely, I think there is a connection between those two facts. 😉

You really stood up to a lot in my twenties. You withstood the genetic pressure of my family’s mental illnesses, the abuse I heaped on you through my early divorce (not eating), med school (not sleeping) and my parents’ divorce (barely breathing).

In my thirties? Thank you more than words can say for my four pregnancies. It looked like that last one was a miscarriage (oh sure, YOU knew better, but how was *I* supposed to know?) when it turned out we lost a twin, but not the other. Hey, body, can you tell me if my precious little boy knows on some level that he started as one of two? Just wondering.

Anyway, it was a lot to ask of you, to grow and birth and then feed four babies in six years. It’s been a total of 10 years of pregnancy, labor and breastfeeding. Yours was the hard part, I got all the rewards. You’ve complained in only the most mild ways – changing shape to adjust, some pain here and there. Thanks for stepping up with the breast milk – there is no guarantee of that and I DO really appreciate it!

Now I’m in my forties, and you are still stepping up. This decade I particularly want to thank you for withstanding piggy back rides for 50 pound kids, wrestling with boys who are too old to “cuddle” if anyone is around, climbing into top bunks each night because no one else is around so the cuddle is welcomed. Thanks for sitting through outdoor sports events that go into overtime only if the weather is cold and rainy. Thank you for managing on less rest than you’d like when one of the other bodies in our house is sick.

Thank you for hands that help my patients feel more whole. Thank you for eyes that see what’s happening, and the extra ones in the back of my head. And thanks for the increase in my sex drive (my husband says to say thanks too)!

Thank you for healing the small and large insults you’ve withstood so far.

Now here’s the “ask.” Can you stick with me? I’m starting to realize, now that I really like me, and feel really comfortable inside you, that you are the key. Whether the next decades are great or hard depend in large part on you. So I’ll do my best to keep you tuned up, checked, vaccinated and moving. You let me know if there is something I need to pay more attention to, alright? I’m counting on you to help me give piggyback rides to grandkids someday!

Thank you for your patience as I’ve struggled to appreciate you.

All the best,
Debi

Follow Debi on Facebook, Pinterest, Twitter and YouTube.

Things I Wish We Could Talk About

Posted on April 20, 2013 Written by Tonya

Not a day goes by that I don’t think of something I wish I could talk to my parents about. I regret not truly thanking them for my life. Literally. And all the opportunities they gave me. I wish I had expressed my gratitude for being good parents, staying together, teaching me right from wrong, showing me the world, bailing me out a time or two and for my sister. I can only hope they knew how much I loved and respected them.

But it’s the everyday stuff that I wish we could talk about.

I long to share the daily funny things Lucas says and does, seek counsel on the big decisions my husband and I face, relive the warm and wonderful childhood I enjoyed and learn more about the people they were.

The list is endless, but first and foremost, I wish I knew more about my mother’s fertility. I’d like to ask her if she and my father really decided to wait almost 12 years before having my sister or if she had struggles conceiving too. I remember her saying her mother had miscarried but I don’t know the details and I should.

So many times, Lucas will do something that reminds me of myself at his age and I’ll wish I could confirm the memory with my mother. I have a whole set of memories that don’t include my sister because for so long it was just the three of us, Mom, Dad and me. A lot of those memories are fading now.

I wonder how my father would react to having a President in the White House that I simply adore. He was a staunch republican and we would have heated discussions about gun control, a woman’s right to choose and same sex marriage all the time. He was “old school” and would be the first to admit that he just didn’t “get it”. I think my dad would have respected Obama, especially this week.

As educators, I wonder what they both would have thought about teenagers shooting up elementary schools and igniting bombs in public places, hurting innocent people, killing children. My father loved Boston and rooted for both the Red Sox and Celtics. I think he would have been glued to the television yesterday and like so many of us, devastated and confused.

I didn’t know my grandparents on either side very well and I’m sorry that I didn’t ask more questions about them when I had the chance. I also should have taken the opportunity to ask more questions about my parents childhoods, what they dreamed of when they were children and if they if had any inkling that they would make a success life overseas.

I would love to talk to my dad about the book he wrote and published and hear about his writing process. Perhaps it would help me with mine.

In so many ways time has stood still since my mother and father’s deaths almost six years ago and I know I’ll be collecting discussion points for the rest of my life; things I wish we could talk about. Current events, parenting advice and family history aside, honestly I’d talk about the weather with either of them if I could.

The Bad Stuff Can Wait

Posted on April 18, 2013 Written by Tonya

He doesn’t know about the Holocaust, 9/11, Columbine, Waco, explosions in Boston or West.

He believes guns are only for shooting the bad guys, although he doesn’t really understand the concept of “bad guys”.

Sandy is something he gets after a day at the park or beach not a devastating hurricane or the name of an elementary school in Virginia.

He knows his mommy and daddy can comfort him, although when he’s really apprehensive, like standing in line for his first (kid-friendly) roller coaster at Knott’s Berry Farm, his lovely does it best.

He doesn’t understand political smear campaigns, bullies or strangers.

He wants to be friends with everyone and upon meeting him for the first time, don’t be surprised if he invites you over for a play date.

He hears his mommy curse from time to time but doesn’t realize that words can be very harmful.

He sings the Thomas & Friends theme song with such conviction, it has become his own personal anthem.

He’s never heard of Ricin and to be honest, I hadn’t either until a couple of days ago.

He doesn’t know that there are children dying of starvation, children that don’t have fresh water to drink, shoes on their feet or beds to sleep in.

I believe he could live off peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (with the crusts cut off), pretzels and M&Ms.

He asks a lot of questions about how far away heaven is and why he can’t visit his Grandma and Grandpa Adams.

He loves to practice winking at me and writing his name; and has mastered Candy Land and Memory, especially when he gets to shuffle the cards.

He thinks when an airplane takes off, it always lands and a familiar face or exciting adventure awaits him.

He doesn’t know that evil exists and that bad things happen to good people for no reason whatsoever.

It’s a big bad scary world out there and I can only shelter my son for so long. I can only control what he hears and sees for so long. For now, I have all the answers, but soon I won’t. I want Lucas to learn about the world around him, the good, the bad and the very ugly, but first I want him to have a childhood; filled with only things that make him smile.

I look over at him now, sitting in the middle of our living room, surrounded by his cars and trusty lovely. He is watching a bright and colorful episode of Bubble Guppies and I think, the bad stuff can wait.

A Chance

Posted on April 16, 2013 Written by Tonya

Kori, my Letters For You guest today is the assignment editor for SheKnows.com’s Parenting Channel and my infertility column assignment editor.

Kori and her husband have adopted four children from foster care.

Little G is one. She took a chance on her parents and is now a very important and very loved member of a family.

To my darling daughter,

You came to us at just shy of 7 months old. You were oh so small, so weak and a little sickly. You weren’t thrilled at all about being here. Who could blame you? We were your fifth family in your short life and you were so tired of moving; you just wanted a home. You wanted someone to love you.

As the weeks and months passed, each day you woke up as happy as can be. Always laughing. Always happy. Always content.

And though no one would know it, I wasn’t sure that you would ever love us.

You wouldn’t let us hold you close. Yes, you were content to sit on my lap or play on the floor by my side or be carried around the house. You would smile and giggle, and sometimes even laugh a big belly laugh. But if I wanted to pull you close to my chest — to hold you, to comfort you, to love you — you’d push away. You’d push with all the power in your tiny arms and legs.

You didn’t want to be close to me, to Daddy or to anyone.

Even though you were still shy of a year old, you had figured out that you shouldn’t get close to people so fast. Why should you? I’m sure you thought we might leave you and pass you off to the next family.

And so our lives went on, day by day without issue. You were happy from the time you woke in the morning until you slept at night. You were much quieter than the rest of our kids — and let’s be honest, you were much better behaved. And then one night, we decided to leave all of you with a sitter while we took a class just a few steps away. Even though you had been in our family for many months, this would be your first time away from us since the day we met.

Not one hour into the class, you couldn’t take it anymore. The always-happy little one was now a crying — no — a bawling mess. When I scooped you up to take you home, your sobs were uncontrollable. Your whole body was shaking and you couldn’t catch your breath.

You cried for hours long after we were back home. When Daddy put you to sleep in your crib, you were still sobbing. Moments after he closed the door, your sobs turned to bloodcurdling screams. And soon, we had you back downstairs with us again. We sat on the floor playing with you and soon your tears turned to laughter and then night turned to early morn. Finally, you fell to sleep and all was well.

I knew that you had cried because you didn’t want us to leave — and secretly, that made me a little happy.

Over the next few days and weeks things changed. The baby who pushed me away so strongly, now wasn’t pushing so hard, and gradually, I began to believe you might really love us.

Now that little, weak, happy (yet apprehensive) baby isn’t a baby anymore. You are now my big, beautiful 3-year-old girl. You love getting big hugs, sitting on mommy’s lap at the computer and climbing all over Daddy on the floor. We can pull you close… very close. And you don’t even slightly wriggle to get away.

And now, nearly three years since you arrived in our family, without a doubt, I know that you love us.

Anyway, little G. I just wanted to say one thing… thanks for giving us a chance.

Love,
Mommy

Follow Kori on Twitter and if you’re a San Antonio Spurs fan, be sure to check out her SpursTalk site.

Back To Basics – Update

Posted on April 16, 2013 Written by Tonya

First and foremost, my thoughts and prayers go out to all those affected by the explosions in Boston yesterday. It is heartbreaking that these events happen here and around the world.

We are half way through Project: Back To Basics, in which I vowed to go on a one month buying strike and refrain from buying Lucas any toys, games, Matchbox cars, Micro Drifters, sweets, books, or other unnecessary junk. Progress has been so-so and I’ve been keeping daily notes….

April 1: No incident

April 2: FedEx store – Lucas had a full melt down over markers and a package of Angry Birds flash drives. We walked out without anything and he was kicking and screaming.

April 3: Daddy brought home a Superman Pez dispenser from his trip. I wasn’t happy about it, but let it slide.

April 4: Lucas asked to borrowed a friend’s Monster Truck Cars after a play date.

April 5: Lakeshore Learning – Lucas had a crying fit over sponge dinosaurs, which he already has. I didn’t buy them and he pouted and fussed all the way home.

April 6: No incident and began telling me throughout the day that April is “no buy month”. Progress!!

April 7: Found a car at the park but still pleaded for Cars book, Angry Birds game and fishing pole with fish at Barnes & Noble. He didn’t get anything.

April 8: No incident – Spent two hours at the library and checked out 10 books, he acted like it was Christmas.

April 9: No incident

April 10: No incident

April 11: Lucas asked to borrow a friend’s stuffed turtle after play date.

April 12: Day 1 of Lucas’ Spring Break. We went to the Long Beach Aquarium and he begged me for an aquarium truck, which I bought. I know, I know. I felt like a total loser, but I did explain that he wasn’t going to get anything at Knott’s Berry Farm or Legoland, which we are planning to visit later in the week. SIDE NOTE: We have yearly passes to each amusement park. Lucas thanked me the rest of the day for the truck and played with it everyday.

April 13: Aaron Brothers – Lucas asked to “just look” at children’s section, had designs on a box of markers, but was able to leave them on the shelf and there was no fit or mention of them again.

April 14: No incident

April 15: Knott’s Berry Farm – Lucas was able to walk through the gift shop without asking for anything and he reminded me of the deal we made at the aquarium. More progress!!

April 16: Lucas and I spent two hours going through and organizing all of Lucas’ toys and made a small pile of items to donate. I could not be happier. There are still 14 days left in the month. I must stay strong!!

It’s really hard to say no your child, especially when they have big crocodile tears streaming down their face and they are causing a scene in a public place, but I’m learning slowly but surely to say no. No, not today, add it to your birthday list, let’s go home and play a game instead, what if we go to the park, etc. etc. etc.

Home

Posted on April 11, 2013 Written by Tonya

home

home sweet home

home is where the heart is

home on the range

home run

I’ve been thinking about home a lot lately… what makes a home, how home feels, how nothing else matters in the world than being at home, surrounded by the people and the things you treasure most.

Memories are made at home.

Family and friends gather at home.

Home grounds us, it’s our constant, our safe haven, our soft place to land.

Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling and embodies comfort at it’s finest, whether it’s a lavish estate or a shoebox apartment, home is everything.

We have been in our new home a month and I’m making the best of it while marking off the days until we move again. I’ve realized that it doesn’t matter where we live, as long as we are together.

Quiet cul-de-sac, updated foothills home has expansive, panoramic views of the Tucson Country Club golf course, soaring ceilings, fireplace in the family room. French doors off breakfast room lead to privately landscaped patio/terrace. Stainless steel appliances convey. Tons of storage in extended garage.

My parents house went live on MLS (Multiple Listing Service) less than an hour ago.

There is a For Sale sign in the front yard and I am equal parts thrilled and crestfallen.

Their house that hasn’t been a home for 5-1/2 years but it is finally ready to be occupied by a new family.

It has been a hell of a journey to get to this point, but it’s time for new memories and the chance to be a home again.

Better Luck Next Time

Posted on April 10, 2013 Written by Tonya

Erin of is my guest today with a letter to her parents about a recent visit gone a bit awry.

If you don’t know Erin, she writes Erin L. Margolin, The road to my writer roots and co-founded The Gay Dad Project, a Website and blog dedicated to families who have a gay parent.

Sometimes we want so badly for everything to go right, we set impossible expectations for ourselves and those around us and then look back and wonder what the hell we were thinking; this letter is a perfect example of that.

Dear Mom & Dad,

I’m sorry this trip sucked. I tried to be Wonder Woman, but I’m not; I don’t have a cape and magic lasso. You live far away in different cities and you’re divorced. You’re not getting along. You both want to see the kids and me. Of course we want to see you, too.

Thursday morning, the day we left for New Orleans, my alarm didn’t go off as planned. I shot out of bed like a rocket at 6:45. Woke the twins, told them to get dressed and eat something, leaving the baby to sleep until the last possible minute.

Running up and down the stairs 22 times, sweating pooling in my bra, I packed the car, let the dog out, fed him. Woke Piper just before leaving the house at 7:10 (for an 8:30 flight with a 1/2 hour drive to the airport). I hauled a heavy suitcase, a Britax car seat,

photo credit

and two carry-ons from the parking garage into the airport myself while the twins took turns pushing Piper in her stroller to the gate. I hijacked a giant rolling cart from somewhere and threw everything on it and we ran to security. Getting through that was perhaps worse, as I heard them announcing our flight boarding while I was yanking my shoes off and jamming everything through the x-ray machine.

With minutes to spare and my t-shirt soaked with sweat, we made it. Several people in the airport asked me if I was okay, if I needed help (see also: the kindness of strangers). I refused most of it until we were boarding when it was physically impossible to carry my baby, my carry-on bags, and her carseat alone through a narrow aisle. By the time I sat down to buckle in, I felt like I might pass out.

Abby looked at me with eyes full of concern and asked, “Mommy, are you okay? Mommy?” I was so overwhelmed it took me a minute to answer and reassure her.

I can’t do it all.

And this was before we even got to New Orleans.

Once there, I tried to appease everyone, but it was impossible. Forget the things I wanted to do for myself.

It’s ALL ABOUT THE KIDS. I went out one night and bonded with my brothers which was awesome. I went shopping once to get an outfit for the news segment and some NOLA souvenirs, but otherwise? That was it. Trip to the zoo, to mom’s office to meet her co-workers, playtime, Morning Call beignets, snowballs at Sal’s, mealtime, quiet time, bath time, naps for baby, laundry, bedtime meltdowns. Lots of togetherness. Cousins all meeting for the first time. My brother and SIL meeting my baby for the first time.

And yet.

It wasn’t enough. You guys furious at each other, Mom angry with me. Everyone wanting more time with the kids than they got. Mom upset with me for working while I was home and not getting time with me to herself. With my three kids plus my niece & nephew (FIVE kids, ages seven & under) underfoot, too. There is never enough time.

Pushing, pulling. A rope ready to come undone into fibers. Never enough to hold onto. Holding on til my hands are raw and blistered and bleeding.

Maybe the worst part is feeling like I let you all down after all the trouble, time, and money it took to make this trip happen. Or the fact that Mom said she’s canceling her trip to Kansas City for Mother’s Day weekend, when I am co-directing and producing the inaugural Listen To Your Mother Show: Kansas City. When I’ll be up on that stage reading a piece about her.

It’s just life. It’s family. We all have our struggles, don’t we?

I want to be like a duck and shake the water off my back.

I want to be able to explain to my kids why there was so much tension, why they didn’t go to Hattiesburg to see PopPop & NaNa. I want to explain why Mom and I were arguing.

But it’s too much, and they’re too little. And they don’t need to know all of this.

Hopefully someday, things will work out. And someday they’ll be old enough to travel alone. They’ll be driving, making their own decisions. And it won’t always be this weight on my shoulders. This heavy feeling of sadness, wasted time, and unhappy endings.

I love you. I just wanted this to work out better. I wanted it to be easy.

Is that so wrong?

Love,
Erin

Follow Erin on Facebook and Twitter.

In Awe

Posted on April 9, 2013 Written by Tonya

It was so overwhelming, I haven’t been able to put it into the proper words. Turns out a simple act, an everyday task allowed me to get there.

I was standing at the kitchen sink scrubbing pots and pans with scolding hot water, in between loading the dishwasher, wiping down counter tops, putting leftovers in plastic containers and reorganizing the refrigerator in order for everything to fit.

I was thinking about the day almost behind me and if I had accomplished everything I had hoped to, I thought about new items to add to my ever growing To Do list and how I was one day closer to a looming deadline. I thought about how odd it was to be living in such a small space now and daydreamed about the possibilities that lie ahead for our family. I considered what Lucas had eaten that day and what kind of mother I had been; was I attentive?, had I doled out enough kisses, hugs and words of encouragement?, had we read together that day?, had I taught him anything?, was I present?

Next, I thought about the millions of women—mothers across the world doing the exact same thing at the exact same moment.

Like me, they were standing at their kitchen sink caring for and thinking about their family and their mind wandered to all that they have done that day and maybe throughout their lives. All those women have stories to tell.

Rich, beautiful, powerful stories.

Stories of courage and heartbreak, bittersweet memories and small moments that made great impacts. Stories about letting go, holding on and unwavering resilience.

As I stood there scrapping off caked on food particles into the disposal, my eyes began to swell and tears streamed down my face. Performing such a mundane task finally allowed me to reflect on the 11 amazing stories I had heard two days earlier at my first Listen To Your Mother rehearsal.

The stories are as diverse as our fingerprints, but the grace and strength in which they were told are the common denominator and the candor and beauty of each woman leaves me in awe. I have only met these women once and I already admire and respect them so very much. Their stories will forever be etched in my mind and on my heart.

I am honored beyond measure to be apart of the 2013 Listen To Your Mother Sacramento cast and to tell my story. It is our time to shine and the dishes in the sink can wait!

If you would like to attend the Sacramento Listen To Your Mother show, please click on photo for more information and for tickets!

Limbo

Posted on April 5, 2013 Written by Tonya

I’m in that place.

That place between here and there.

That place where tension headaches live day after day.

That place that leaves you tossing and turning night after night.

That place where the thoughts in your head are way louder than they should ever be.

I’m stuck in a state of being lost and confused, anxious and disconnected.

That place where smiles are few and far between.

That place where you function as if on autopilot, just drifting through your life.

That place where there are too many unknowns and uncertainties, unsure whether I’m coming or going, unsettled.

It’s as though I’m living half a life with one foot firmly planted in joy and hope for a bright full future and one cemented in chaos, tough decisions, worry and tears. I’m split right down the middle and quartered into sections.

That place? It’s not a good place.

Limbo sucks.

Dear Pinterest

Posted on April 2, 2013 Written by Tonya

Kristen of The Preppy Girl in Pink is my guest today. Kristen is a wife, mother of two tween girls and a lover of fan of all things pink and preppy… oh, and now Pinterest.

Dear Pinterest,

I can still clearly remember the day that we first met. It was back in the day when you had to be invited to join. My friend, Jennifer, author of the blog Jennifer P. Williams, had sent me an invite after I read a post about how much fun she was having on it and I told her that I didn’t even know what it was. I logged on, set up an account, took a look around and logged off. I didn’t log back on for several months. It wasn’t that you didn’t make a great first impression. You actually blew me away with your beautiful sunsets, gourmet dinners, desserts that went way beyond a box cake and tub of frosting, crafts galore and quotes put together with such beautiful imagery. Oh, the quotes! You really know how to suck a person in with those quotes!

I have to say though, you also intimidated me. I have let my left brain rule so much of my life that all of what you showed me in our first meeting seemed absolutely unattainable. Besides being a stay at home mom of two that can’t just pack her bags and catch the next flight to the most recently pinned paradise, I saw crafts, foods, quotes that made my left brain immediately shout at my right brain, “YOU CAN’T DO ANY OF THIS STUFF! YOU’RE NOT CRAFTY!” So, I pinned one or two things every once in a blue moon and let my left brain run the show like it always has.

Then one day it happened… I was working on the first end of season party for the field hockey team that I coach and decided that I didn’t want it to just be chips thrown into bowls. I wanted it to be something special. So, I turned to you. After scrolling through photo after photo, I could feel my right brain stretching and yawning, trying to come to life.

I started out slowly like you do after not using any body part for a time but my right brain became very strong, very quickly. I was clicking on pins faster than the laundry piles up! I was jotting down notes. I was bookmarking and printing my favorite ideas. I went from using your ideas for one party to my everyday life.

Now when someone sees a craft/decor I’ve made or tastes something that I’ve cooked they ask me if I found it on Pinterest. It is a huge compliment but I can honestly answer no to most of it now. You have inspired my right brain to be creative and experimental and you have brought out a side of me that I never thought would exist.

I can’t thank you enough!

Kristen

Follow Kristen on Facebook and Twitter.

My Body

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