But such a month also seems to have contained the magic formula for transforming said 2yo boy from a toddler into a child.

What happened to my boy?  He’s still in diapers (my fault) and still loves his milk in a bottle (his comfort), but suddenly he’s not “The Baby” anymore.  He owns more language than ever before, and is expressing himself like crazy.  Holding conversations, even.  Asking questions and waiting for answers.  Making jokes.  Suggesting fun activities or resolutions to problems.  And get this…he’s even fussing less.  A LOT less.  The temper that seemed to run this family has lightened, and we’re all breathing a little easier.

He filled me with dread the second day of our month-long trip.  All day he cried:  “MY ROOOOOOM!  MY ROOM IS GONE!  MY BEDDDDDDD!  MY BED IS GONE!  LUCY (our puppy) IS GONE!  I WANNA GO HOOOOOOOOOOOME!”  It was loud, aggravating, and absolutely heart-breaking.  I never expected his homesickness.  I worried it would last the entire trip.  But somehow by day three (and by “somehow,” I mean in answer to a pouring-out of prayers), he had resolved himself to go with the flow, which has never been his strong suit.  Don’t get me wrong, every few days his patience would wane and a spark would flare, but that was usually in response to too little sleep and over-stimulation.  For the majority of our trip, he was pretty relaxed and well-behaved.

Now that we’re home, his new-found maturity is seeming to stick.  Or maybe it’s the new way I’m looking at him; once you know what someone is capable of, you begin to expect it from them.  For months before our trip, I spent so much time on eggshells, waiting for the next outburst, next refused nap, next frustrated meltdown (his AND/OR mine).  These past few days at home have been almost glorious – today I even took him to Walmart and we both left the store happy and smiling.

It’s like I’ve been breathing with only one lung for so long, and now I’m able to take a chestful of air.  Here’s hoping it lasts.

The Air Up Here is original, copywritten content (unless otherwise indicated) by Stacey Nerdin for her blog Tree, Root, and Twig. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.

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{pausing for the laughter to die down}

My oldest daughter didn’t enter her alien phase until just after her 14th birthday.  I didn’t realize at the time what a gift it was that she had waited so long.

My third daughter, who will be 12 in two weeks, boarded the mother ship last fall, just as she was entering  jr high.  My normally quiet, compassionate, genuinely loving girl turned catty, defiant, very whatever.  She seeks out and provokes fights with her siblings.  She talks about friends behind their backs.  She rolls her eyes at me so much I feel the need to google “will they really stick like that?” just to be sure.  And her loud, prolonged sighs of displeasure when asked to help out at home might actually cause disturbances in the atmosphere (though I haven’t checked with any scientists on that).

But every so often I see a glimmer of the girl I knew, and it reminds me that she’s just herself, confused by a lot of social, physical, and emotional changes, and longing for me to recognize her. 

Today she and I went out just the two of us, and I saw That Girl – My Girl – and it was such a blessing.

I took her shopping for clothes, and she communicated clearly with me on what she liked, didn’t like (instead of the normal shrugging of shoulders and breathy mumbles), and ultimately wanted.  She was excited about her “finds” and genuinely thanked me for the clothes. 

We sang along to Taylor Swift’s  ”You Belong With Me” in the car, and my daughter said how cool it was that I knew all the words.

We went to the toy store to find road-trip toys for our 2yo, and she gave great suggestions and feedback through the many aisles we wandered.

We went to the grocery store, and when I told her I was feeling a little spacey and unsure of what to do for dinner, she quickly chimed in with the idea of having tacos, and helped me gather the ingredients.

I took her out to lunch and while we were quietly eating, she stopped and looked at me.  “I love you, Mom,” was all she said.

Just as sure as I was that my daughters would never change, sometimes I’m too convinced that they’ll never be the same again.  But really, they are the same.  They’re in there, sorting things out, hating the mean or nasty things they do or say but not being able to stop themselves or explain why they did it, hoping all the while that I’ll love them anyway.  They’re the same girls I birthed, same girls I raised, same girls I loved and will always love.  They’ll come out the other side of this with different angles, depths, experiences, but they’ll still be My Girls.

My job is to stay true and strong enough to be the same mom to them, Their Mom, offering the love and support (and sometimes forgiveness) they’ll need.

A Surprisingly Human Moment with My Tween Daughter is original, copywritten content (unless otherwise indicated) by Stacey Nerdin for her blog Tree, Root, and Twig. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.

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This week my friends, family, and followers on Facebook and Twitter have been subjected to my “Saga of the Cub Scout Day Camp” updates.  My 9yo son is a Bear in  Cub Scouts, and in order for his pack to go to camp, a handful of us needed to step up and volunteer for the week.  Though the word “volunteer” is quite relative in this situation.

Cub Scout Day Camp in our area is held for one week at a local farm and ranch, with three daily sessions of athletics (badminton, golf, and archery) held out in the fields, and three academic/craft sessions (chess, science, and art) held inside a huge livestock arena.  Cub Scouts come to make friends, learn new skills, and earn badges, but I’m not gonna lie to you – a lot of them are dragging themselves from point a to point b just to participate.  The location is hot and dirty and altogether a very uncomfortable arrangement.  I mean, it’s Houston for goodness sake!  In the summer!  And the days last five very. long. hours. each.

My 9yo son went last year and enjoyed it enough to soldier through the heat and fatigue.  But on day two this year, I could see something was wrong.  I was taking pictures of him, and noticed his eyes tearing up.  “I just want to go home,” was all he said.

He stayed through yesterday, but this morning we sat down and talked.  “Why did you want to go in the first place?” I asked him.  “Because I sorta thought that’s what I was supposed to do.”  “Are you having any fun?” “Well, kinda.  But I could do without it.”  “But what about all the badges you won’t earn if you don’t stay?”  “Mom, I can earn those badges any time on my own.”  And my final question:  “Is Cub Scout Camp important to you at all?”  “Not really,” was his reply.

When there were hints yesterday that he might not be finishing the week of camp, one of the male den leaders suggested I force him to come.  “It builds character!” he told me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that.

Persevering through adversity to overcome an unavoidable situation in life – that builds character.  Persevering through adversity to ultimately reach a goal that means something to you – that builds character.  But trying to persevere through adversity for something you didn’t choose for the right reasons AND doesn’t really mean anything to you?  I’m not sure that builds character.  I think that makes you more of a martyr or a glutton for punishment.

I think of how many adults (myself included) who have a terrible time shedding responsibilities, stresses, and commitments over things that don’t REALLY mean that much to us.  I think there’s some value in teaching my child how to evaluate what he wants and decide how much effort he’s going to put towards it.

I know many see a catch in that phrase:  ”what he really wants.”  I think the majority would say that WE as parents know best what our child wants.  I just don’t feel that way, not most of the time, anyway.  I’m not in his shoes, and I just don’t feel like I can force his hand on this.  He may have some regrets later for not finishing the week at camp, but those will be the consequence of a decision I allowed him to make.

And that for me is the bottom line - I allowed him to determine his priorities and make a responsible decision for himself.  I think maybe that’s what builds character, too.

What Builds Character? is original, copywritten content (unless otherwise indicated) by Stacey Nerdin for her blog Tree, Root, and Twig. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.

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Lately, my 2yo son Eli and I have been having exhanges that go a little something like this:

ELI:  [misbehaves/does something naughty]

ME:  [raise my voice and express my displeasure]

ELI:  [voice cracking, eyes sincere...]  I sorry, Mom.  I sorry.  I sorry.  I sorry.  [continued ad infinitum until I interrupt by saying...]

ME:  Okay, Eli, come here.  [with every intention of telling him exactly what he did wrong and why I'm upset]

ELI:  [coming to me, taking my face in his hands, kissing me before I can say anything]

ME:  [melting........]

So husbands:  try that next time your wife is upset.  And wives:  let him.

What My 2yo Son Knows about Being a Real Man is original, copywritten content (unless otherwise indicated) by Stacey Nerdin for her blog Tree, Root, and Twig. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.

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First posted on the Johnson & Johnson Health Channel on YouTube.
Visit the Johnson & Johnson Health Channel on YouTube for more excellent Mother’s Day videos.

*Disclosure: I was invited by Johnson & Johnson to submit a video on the topic of motherhood and Mother’s Day. I was financially compensated for this submission.  (as if someone would have to pay my family to be this goofy, though!)

In Which I Interview My Kids About…Me! (and Motherhood) is original, copywritten content (unless otherwise indicated) by Stacey Nerdin for her blog Tree, Root, and Twig. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.

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