Muse Mama

Ask Muse Mama: Sharing the Faith With Kids

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Fri, 25 May 2012 19:04:00 +0000

On Facebook I was asked how I involve my kids in our faith. Paganism is so free to be adjusted to one's own particular spiritual needs, I think it can be easy to see how to apply it to ourselves, but hard to see (at least initially) how to involve our children. And, of course, there's the worry. My mother recently made the comment regarding my Paganism, "Yes, but you have children." Oh no! Not the children! They'll grow up to....respect the planet! All kidding aside, my mother is wonderful, I just think it illustrates the problem that many of us have. If our kids are involved and proud, they won't hide it. And if you're in the broom closet, that can be a scary prospect.

If you are ready to make your faith a family affair, there are some really good books out there by Ashleen O'Gaea about raising children in the Wiccan tradition. I have read them, and used a number of things from them. It is very Wicca-centric, but I find a lot of things can be adjusted and changed for your own traditions. I especially recommend her book Raising Witches for a breakdown on what kinds of things to teach at which ages.

There are also a number of great children's books and introductory books for kids, and I'll make a list of those at the end of the post. I strongly recommend reading through the Amazon reviews before purchasing any book. They're all personal opinions and may not mirror how you'd feel about the book, but they give you a pretty good understanding of what readers have liked, and what they wish had been different. I've found it to be an excellent tool in helping me to decide which books would meet the needs of my family.

My children have different needs and vastly different ages. My oldest son is now 14, and tends to worship at the altar of technology. He has trouble wrapping his mind around how there could be any God at all. So, he and I had a talk. I believe that one's faith should help them grow and better people. If, by believing there is no God, he is motivated to make today count and be better, than I can and will respect his opinion. I only ask that he be respectful of the faith of other members of the family. And he is.

My daughters are 9 and 8, and they are starting to really come into the faith as more active participants. When we have family rituals, I make sure each of them have something to do. Whether it's calling the Elements, lighting candles, or helping to raise energy for our work. They are also both doing a lot of reading on their own and have decided to make their own altar in their room.

My younger sons (6, 4, 2, and 11 months) are all a bit young for any kind of formal education on our faith. With them it's much more casual. Our Pagan philosophy is something we weave into our lives. We talk about the earth, the need to reduce, reuse, and recycle. We talk about the Gods, and how to honor them in our daily lives, especially in the way we treat one another. We talk about the Divine all around us in nature. And of course we talk about the colors of candles that we use around the circle, the four directions, the elements, and other basics of the faith. We also sing songs, clap, and can even have very pared down simple rituals when there seems to be an occasion for it.

If you're looking to bring your kids into the practice of the faith, start small and work up. Find things that are child-centric to add, like cookies and apple juice instead of wine and cakes. Read what others have discovered along the path. There are a lot more Pagan parents out there than you might think (see my sidebar). Read their blogs and their books. Find out what works for them. And don't be afraid to talk about your faith. A lot of us who came from overbearing religious homes, sometimes find it difficult to make faith such an integral part of our family life. But remember, our faith seeks to empower us to find the path that best meets our needs as the individual creatures we are. It never seeks to bind us, or our children, to something that might not work for us.

Books:

ABC Book of Shadows A board book for babies/toddlers. Simple and cute.
A Witches Primer A favorite of my daughters', and a basic introduction to Wicca
Growing Up Pagan: A Workbook For Wiccan Families Simple introductory book with stories and activities.
An Ordinary Girl-A Magical Child Elementary age story book about a young Pagan girl and how she lives out her faith with her family.
Pooka Pages A website including a printable free kids magazine that has lots of crafts, stories, recipes, and of course, information about each holiday, what it means, and how to help celebrate it!

Wednesday's Child

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Thu, 24 May 2012 14:15:00 +0000

I can never remember, was Wednesday's child full of grace, or full of woe?

In seven years I've come to feel like Sarah was , in a way, full of both, equally, at the same time. Two aspects living peacefully side-by-side in my heart.

In the beginning, when people would ask me how many children I had, I would feel guilty if I left her out of the number. Now, it's become a protective mechanism. If I tell them about her, I have to tell them all about her. I have to pick at the scab and make it bleed. Most of the time, I don't want to do that. It's become second nature to leave her off of the total number. So much so that I sometimes forget how many times I've actually given birth. And I did give birth to her.

I still think of her. A lot, actually. I've looked for meaning in her life and death, and I've found some. Without Sarah, there would not have been a Ciaran. Without Sarah, I might not have had so much hope for Liam. Without Sarah I would not have been able to know some people who've become very important to me over the years. Without Sarah, it might have taken me a lot longer to begin to question the belief system I had subjugated myself to, and get to where I needed to be spiritually and as a whole person (and it still wasn't exactly a quick conversion).

Even after seven years, I still look at her name on the marker and mourn my hopes and dreams for her. I could have had 3 little girls making me want to stuff cotton in my ears. And with three, two could take sides against one! And wouldn't puberty have been fun? But along with all of that, there are years of cuddles and kisses, and I-love-you's that I haven't had. I think it's fair, just once in a while, to allow myself to really miss that.

Grief can't be on the front burner forever, or we'd lose ourselves. But it never really goes away, either. It's put in a safe place, along with memories, and dreams, and that allows us to go through our lives and even be happy. But I do still miss her. I will always miss her. And to never look at what I miss would be to not acknowledge what a profound impact she had on my life.

My Readers

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Thu, 17 May 2012 01:20:00 +0000

I have joked for a long time that I have maybe two readers, and one of them is probably my mom. Hi, Mom!

But these days that doesn't seem to be true. The sad thing is, though, I haven't been writing. Between post partum depression, the busy-ness of raising my small army, and (for lack of a better word) stuff, I haven't been hanging out here a lot lately.

But I have been doing things.

Piper and Bridget are Morris Dancing.

We're practicing our faith. And we're out of the Broom Closet at the girls' school. Oh yeah, they know. I'm that mom now. That mom who has the kid who wears a pentacle to school. I will have to write about how that is going for her. It's Piper who wears the jewelry. Bridget wants one too, but I haven't found her one yet. I refuse to spend a lot of money on something she might lose.

Piper has been diagnosed with ADHD primary inattentive type. So...yeah.

Liam is growing and doing remarkably well. I'm still processing the last year, though. He's growing up and I feel like by the time I'm relaxed enough to enjoy babyhood, it will be over.

The boys are making me laugh a lot. Quinn, who's 4, stopped in the middle of the zoo to ask me where the f*ck the car was. I'm sorry, what?!? He had no idea what he'd said, which just made it funnier. I have to admit, there's something both funny and kind of disconcerting about a 4 year old who isn't sure I know what I'm doing. He's either too smart for his own good, or I'm losing my edge.

After a long hiatus, I'm looking at politics again, and I'm getting mad.

So, if you still want to read, I still want to write. I need to write. It's that or drive my husband to insanity because without blogging, he becomes my sounding board. And that's bad. Seriously.

Motherhood Is Kicking My Ass

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Sun, 25 Mar 2012 01:50:00 +0000

I have friends who tell me what a great mom they think I am. What I find even weirder than that, is that they read this blog. They have to know the truth, right?

I spent half an hour trying to mediate an argument between my daughters tonight, where I ended up yelling at Piper because I couldn't deal with her complaints, until we'd dealt with other things first.

I've had Ciaran in time-out 3 times since lights out because he won't stop kicking the door. He can't tell me why he's doing it, but I'm simply out of ideas for how to make him stop.

Now Quinn is crying because I made him get back into bed.

The girls aren't fighting anymore, but they're not playing quietly. I don't think they're picking up like I told them to, either.

I feel completely overstimulated and overloaded, and I can't seem to get centered enough to ground myself, because there's never a pause in the action.

Motherhood is kicking my ass. For serious.

I haven't written anything here in three months. I've had so much to say. So much rattling around inside my brain. But I couldn't get it out because I've been mired in a depression that's made it difficult for me to get through a whole day without going back to bed at some point.

I'm taking charge. I'm working on it. But depression is a mean bitch, and she and I have been fighting this fight for years. I win. I always win. But she never fights fair, and I usually take a beating in the process. Sometimes I wonder if our dance will ever be over. And I wonder what my children will take from these times when I'm fighting her hardest. I think mostly they'll remember how tired it made me.

I'm going to come back and write more. I have actual thoughts that I think other people might want to read. Thoughts that I'd like to put down for myself to remember. But I couldn't start until I'd shared why I stopped. Fighting depression occasionally takes too much of my attention.

Being A Writer

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 03:00:00 +0000

I don't think of myself as a writer. I have 1000 things I want to write about, and more than a few stories to tell, but I've never given myself that title. I'm not sure if I really need to change my perception of myself, or maybe I'm really not a writer, and I just happen to be someone who writes.

There's something satisfying about the sound of my fingers clicking away at my keyboard, making words appear on the screen. But then, real writers know how to do much more than that. They know how to take a boring subject and make it interesting by virtue of their talent and skill.

And a Mommy Blog Writer? Well, they inspire, make you laugh, encourage you, or share the latest tips and tricks to make life easier. I don't know if I do any of those things. Especially not the last thing. While I've learned so much as a mom, I haven't learned a lot of short cuts. Most of what I've learned as a mom tells me that the most important things take time. It's the getting up in the middle of the night, the hour long nursing sessions, it's consistency when teaching a new skill or making sure that an unacceptable behavior isn't continued. Motherhood is not an easy job.

Still, if I'm not a writer yet, I think I'd like to be. I think I'd like to keep working at this and honing whatever talent I may have into a bona fide skill. I'd like to a writer. Or at least a better Mommy Blogger.

What Dignity?

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 05:42:00 +0000

I'm going to preface this post by saying that I love my husband more than anything. He's an amazing man who loves me far beyond what I think I deserve.

When you're married, there's a certain amount of vulnerability that's needed to truly connect. Sounds sweet, doesn't it? But usually this vulnerability comes in the form of over-sharing (like I do here, on a blog, with perfect strangers). You watch each other do every day tasks that aren't always pretty.

My husband has taught our kids to announce it proudly when they've farted or burped. Teaching Quinn to say "Excuse me" after passing gas was a little like deprogramming. I'd look into his disbelieving face saying, "No, Sweetie, I know Daddy laughs when you say you farted, but it's polite to say, 'Excuse me.' "

Seriously though, in a house with a husband and five sons, I'm a little desensitized to this kind of thing. So color me shocked when tonight my husband told me that he wasn't going to mention that he heard me pass gas because he wanted to "preserve my dignity". I looked around the room. Were there other people in our bedroom that I'd missed? Nope, just us and the baby.

Dignity? This man has seen me cut open, he's caught a baby that came flying out of my hooha, he's seen me sicker than a dog and held my hair. And this is the same man who taught Bridget how to burp louder than her brothers. There's no dignity here! There's just us, living day-in and day-out in the same space and sharing every little intimate detail of each others life.

It may not be pretty, sexy, or romantic, but it's comforting to know that I can be violently ill and he's still going to love me when I'm done. Dignity has it's place. But not in a relationship where he likes to ask me to pull his finger.

Simple Beauty: Washing Your Face With Oil

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 04:58:00 +0000

Beauty should not be hard. The world we live in is bent on convincing us that we need fancy and expensive products in order to take care of our skin. But maybe all we need to keep it clean and pretty, is...oil.

I had never heard of the Oil Cleansing Method (OCM) before reading about it on the Sorta Crunchy blog. But once I read about it, I knew I had to try it.

Here are the basics:

The oil cleansing method works on the premise that oil dissolves oil. So if you put the right oils on your face, it will soak into your skin, lifting dirt, grime, and impurities, and then it can all be steamed away, leaving clean fresh skin.

You need two oils. The first is Castor Oil, which is the cleansing oil. I read somewhere about someone who just used the other oil and had terrible results. I'm not surprised. You need that Castor Oil. It is not just for your grandmother's medicine cabinet anymore.

The second oil can vary based on your specific needs. I'm using Sunflower Oil. But Extra Virgin Olive Oil works and is great for normal/combination skin. Oils like Jojoba are good for oily or acne prone skin. This site lists a number of others that you can use.

For more oily skin you should use up to 2/3 Castor Oil to 1/3 secondary oil. For dryer skin, use 1/3 Castor Oil or less. Oddly enough, too much Castor Oil can actually dry your skin.

To use the oil, you take about a quarter sized amount in your hands, rub them together to warm it up, and apply. Massage your face for about two minutes and then let it sit for another minute. Then it can be steamed away. Some people use a washcloth with hot water to wash away the oil. You get the washcloth steamy (not scalding) and just set it on your face, letting the steam work it's way into your pores and cleaning them out. You repeat that several times to get the last of the oil off of your face. Or, you can just jump in the shower and let the steam work there.

And you know what I found? It worked right from the start.

At first, some people find that the OCM opens up their pores and allows their natural oils to flow, leaving them a little greasy for a few days. I didn't have that problem. My skin just felt amazing. I did have one spot that had been coming up before I started doing this, and honestly, if I'd left it alone it might have just gone away. That spot was my fault, not the OCM. It's finally gone and I"m so happy with how my skin looks and feels.. My dry patches are gone! I can use my mineral make up again and it sits on my skin the way it's supposed to!

So here's what I'm doing now. I do the OCM every other night. Every night was too drying for me. In between I clean my face with warm water and a little witch hazel. Some people who use OCM don't use any moisturizer. I do. I like the anti-aging benefits of my night cream, and I strongly believe in the use of SPF during the day. I'm fair and most skin damage comes from the sun. But that's an individual choice. Some people just use a drop of the oil mixture as a moisturizer.

The OCM keeps harsh chemicals off your skin, saves money, and is a simple, green way to take care of yourself. It's totally worth trying if you're interested.

Now I'm thinking about going shampoo free...I'm not sure I'm brave enough yet. But I'm hooked on the OCM.

Another Mommy Blog

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 04:34:00 +0000

There are a million mommy blogs out there. Mine is not unique. There are plenty of blogs that cover parenting from the perspective of a Pagan, or having a big family, or dealing with Autism and special needs. I don't know that there are too many that do all of those things at once, but hey, I always did love being a little bit different. An old friend of mine liked to say that I marched to the beat of my own drummer. She was very...tactful.

Sometimes I think about all of the things that I want to write about, and realize there are already ten people who've tackled the subject, and probably done it far more justice than I would. After a while I started wondering why I have a blog at all. Is my voice so important to add to the cacophony of the internet?

To be honest, it's not. But I still want to be here. I want to write about what interests me, what's happening with my family, and my adventures in Motherhood. Because I know that someone will get it.

Someone will understand the frustrations of watching children struggle with things that should be easier, or hoping that you're handling the little crises of childhood in a way that will encourage them to have a strong sense of self as they get older. Someone will get how crazy it is to realize that you're getting older when it feels like you were just in High School a few years ago. And someone will see that there is magic in the mundane. As for me, I have an outlet for my family stories, personal thoughts, and changing mind. Sometimes it feels like the kids and I are growing up together. Maybe, in a way, we are.

A New Year, A New Focus

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 04:01:00 +0000

2011 was not my year. I got pregnant, unexpectedly, at the end of 2010. Between the changes in my immune system, made to protect my baby, and having a bunch of kids in public school for the first time, I got sick. And because my work had changed their policies, giving me fewer sick days, I ended up in trouble. The last straw was in March when I contracted gastroenteritis and was in the ER. They actually told me not to come in to work, but considered it an "involuntary absence", and since no absence was excused under their policies, they fired me. I've never been fired from a job. Ever. And I was a good nurse. The only thing they had in my file was the attendance issue. Which, a year before, wouldn't have even been an issue.

I was so frustrated, hurt, and worried for our family. Then it got worse.

It was one week to the day when I was fired that we got Liam's diagnosis of encephalocele. In one week I'd lost a job I'd had for seven years, and been told that my baby might die. March sucked ass.

I had four months of worrying, waiting, and fear. Then a premature birth, a c-section, Liam's brain surgery, Liam's shunt surgery, and several financial setbacks due to lack of employment.

I will not miss 2011. Not even a teeny tiny bit.

I spent 2011 afraid.

2012 is a New Year. And while, sure I want to lose the baby weight and feel better about myself in the new year, I mostly just don't want to be afraid anymore. Not for my child, not for our family, and not for myself either.

This year a lot of bloggers have chosen a word as the focus for their writing. While I'd hardly lump myself in with some of the amazing writers who have done this, I have chosen one too. Mine is Courage. My goal this year is to find the Courage to do the things that scare me, to step out from the postpartum depression, and the fear that has pulled at my soul. I want to be brave enough not only to continue to work on myself, but to share it without fear.

Wish me luck.

Magical Mommy Mondays: Spells For Kids

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 04:00:00 +0000

My daughters are at an age where they're starting to react to life from a Pagan perspective. This week my husband was watching a documentary about the Vatican and it was discussing the early persecution of Christians. Bridget looked up at him and said, "Wow. It's a good thing we're Pagans." I guess she hasn't heard about Salem yet. But I loved that she already sees herself this way.

While I love the Path we've chosen to follow, I don't want them to feel like they have to believe as we do. At the same time, since they're showing such an interest, I want to encourage them.

When they're having simple problems that I think could be helped with a bit of spell work, I've gone looking for children's spells on the internet.

Um, wow. From sites that want to send me a package of things labeled as a child's "spell kit" that I really don't need, to websites that engage in the just plain silly, it's been difficult. Now, don't get me wrong. I don't want my kids to engage in really intense spell work. But this is part of the practice of our faith, and I do want them to take it seriously. Simple but engaging is what I'm looking for.

One great resource I've found is the Pooka Pages. My kids love reading them and on the site there are stories, activities, and even a Book of Shadows.

Another thing I like to do is come up with my own simple candle spells. Take a candle, with a color that corresponds with their need/sprinkle it with an herb that's appropriate, light it while thinking of their need, let it burn out, then bury it to seal the spell. They're simple, and teach both some basic herbalism plus the power of intention. Small sachets are good, too. Especially if they're having a problem at school, we can make a sachet, and they can put it in their backback where it can work all day for them. This is also a really good time to remind them of our basic ethics.

However we choose to involve our children in our religious lives, I think offering them simple tools, along with the growing understanding of our responsibility as we practice, empowers them. And I want to give my kids every opportunity to feel strong and capable.

Motherhood Is Boring

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 03:49:00 +0000

Once upon a time, back in the olden days when grunge was played on the radio, I was a girl. No really, I keep telling my kids, I was a real-live-girl. Not just the mom they see before them now. I did things. Crazy things. I once ditched school so that I could drive around L.A. with a friend looking for Tori Amos. We took improptu trips to the mountains, just to drive. We went out dancing. We went to raves. We toilet papered the houses of mean ex-boyfriends. We had fun.

We had our down time, too. On Thursday nights my girlfriends and I would watch Friends, crochet, and then get a Starbucks and then catch E.R. George Clooney was dreamy and we couldn't party every night. But that is just not my life anymore.

I don't want to say that I'm bored. I'm not bored. There's always something to do. Laundry, cleaning, diapers, kids, husband. I am not bored. But I'm starting to wonder if I'm getting boring. Who cares if my baby has thrown up on me again, or how many diapers I've changed, or if I've found a fabulous new way of cleaning my sink (I haven't by the way).

The thing is, I know I'm living a crazy adventure. I share the secrets of little girls. I get the sweetest little boy kisses. I know what makes a Liam giggle. When I'm doing this right, every day is an adventure. Every day is a little bit magic. I'm sharing the moments that they will remember when they're grown and off in the world. And damned if my kids aren't funny. I sometimes wonder what I laughed at before they came along.

There's this kind of odd period when you have really young children. And I've been in this period for longer than most people these days are. Some people have the freedom of older kids. Some people have the freedom of no kids. And it can seem a little dull to spend most of your time picking toys up off the floor and reminding the little people to flush the toilet and wash their hands. But this is what the rest of it is all based on. The relationships we make with our kids when they're little, it's huge. So I'm going to keep drinking my coffee and sharing the magic as I find it, where I find it, and well, when I find it.

Oh, Yeah. Wine.

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 17:49:00 +0000

You know what I hate most about blogging? When you've typed out something kinda lengthy and in one mis-keystroke, you wipe out the whole thing. Let me try this again.

I love my kids. I chose to have them. They're mine. At the same time, sometimes I want to be more than just their mom. I want to be me, too. And that's sometimes really damn hard. There's nothing special about having more kids. I don't know that my job is harder or easier than anyone else's. There's no prize for motherhood (though there probably should be). So, I'm not angling for one here. I'm just expressing what I think most of us feel from time to time.

We all can get overwhelmed, frustrated, or touched-out. There's only so many times a day that someone can pee on my floor before I start plotting my escape to someplace tropical...like Ireland. Only, then how would I get all my cuddles? So, I stay and hope that the next day is better and I feel refreshed. Sometimes, that even happens.

One of the best new things I've found for helping to preserve my tenuous grip on sanity, is a new friend. I have a new neighbor across the street. A single mom with two kids whom my kids adore, she has a great sense of humor and almost always a bottle of wine. Wine is good. Friendship, even better.

Over the years I've done a lot of things to connect to other women and other moms, since we no longer live in the kind of communities that foster that, and Dominic doesn't want to move to any commune that doesn't have wifi. I've joined message boards, found playgroups, had knitting dates with my girlfriends, and the occasional sushi lunch. However you have to do it, do it. Whatever you can. Find the women who will help you stay sane and remind you that there will come a day when you're not covered in spit-up and breaking up fights. It's worth it, I promise.

Surprise, I'm Published!

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 00:48:00 +0000

So, what makes the bestest step-daughter in the world? One who loves her step-mom so much that she took her favorite posts from this blog over the last year and turned them into a book.

I think my heart might have stopped. And there might have been tears. I can neither confirm nor deny.

As it happens, my favorite English Major had a project this semester where she had to publish a book. And she chose this blog. As a belated Yule gift, she gave me my very own copy. I say it counts! I'm a published writer. So....there.

The front cover warns readers:

*Subjects may include politics, religion, autism, marriage, internet trends, rants, and how not to bitch slap a crazy person.

I'm so glad I'm teaching her all the important things.

Take note, publishing world, I think she'd be a good blurb writer. On the back of the book she says:

Follow internet Muse Mama, Anne Basso, in her daily adventures of being a mother to a brood of seven children. In these selected passages from her popular internet blog, you will find yourself laughing, crying and shaking your head at her funny anecdotes, pithy quips, honest opinions and sage advice.

She gives me way too much credit. But what were her favorite posts from the last year?

Epic Fail Day
I Will Not Be Afeared
And The Earth Shook...
And The Earth Shook....Part II
Babies Should Come Home
Some Things Don't Change
The Long And Winding Road
Remembering To Breathe
Where Is It?
Spectrum Saturdays: 10 Things I Wish People Knew About Raising A Kid With Autism
My Mother Will Be So Proud That I Wore Lipstick
To Train Up A Parent
The Beginners Guide To Pregnancy
The Christians And The Pagans
Make Way For Ducklings

I liked those too.

Thank you, Karina, for being you. I know I'm so much better for having had you in my life all these years.

Magical Mommy Mondays: The Magic of Children

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 01:01:00 +0000

I haven't done a Magical Mommy Monday post in a while. Not for lack of material, but the simple and terribly unoriginal lack of time. As we hurdle headlong towards a new year, I've been left to reflect on 2011, which has been, truly, a really bad year. Unemployment, the fear of a poor prenatal diagnosis, a sick baby, and all the other troubles that real life brings aren't that much fun to write about, and even less fun to live. But then, I had a moment.

Between sick kids, furious holiday planning, and paying the bills, I found myself sitting in my easy chair watching a movie with two kids on my lap. Bridget, normally a total Daddy's girl, insisted that she just had to sit with me. And then came Quinn, also usually Daddy's, at my elbow, wanting up too. I sat, not looking at the screen, but at the little heads on my chest. I could lean down and inhale the smell of them, feel the weight of them, and soak up their warmth.

Later, after they'd gotten down, and I picked up my favorite vice (the computer) I found that a preemie I'd been praying for, had died. On Christmas Eve. His parents, faithful people, had to say goodbye to their baby on what should have been a happy night for their family. I could feel the tears rolling down my face as I thought of their loss. Then I thought of each of my children, here with me. I picked up Liam and didn't even mind that he pulled on my hair or drooled all over me. I was just so grateful to hold him in my arms and know that he's okay.

Sometimes, the Magical Mommy Moment isn't in how I parent them, but how they become the healing magic for me. Because at that moment, I wasn't at all concerned with what a crappy year this has been, but I was filled with overwhelming gratitude for the many gifts I have.

Bedtime Mayhem

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 03:07:00 +0000

I topped off my Yuletide with a nice case of gastroenteritis. Thanks, Kids, for always sharing with your mom. After days of cleaning up after and caring for sick kids, it seemed like turn about was fair play. Right?

Truly, this year, holiday partying just wasn't in the plans. The kids were sick all the way up until Yule, and then on Yule, I came down with it.

But here's where it gets good, and gives a healthy glimmer into the excitement that is our house. Tonight I gave the 3 younger boys a bath. After cleaning out the tub, and getting them all in, I started in on cleaning up. With this many sick kids over the last week, it was getting kinda nasty. I got it all done in time for them to get bathwater all over the floor. Thanks guys!

So, I get the boys into bed, read a story and close the door. This should be the end of the story. Only, 10 minutes later, their bedroom is covered in fluff and stinks. In the effort to figure out what's happened, all the boys get out of their room. Well, it turns out Quinn's thrown up on the floor. But it took checking each of them for dirty pants and someone stepping in it to figure that out. And the fluff? That's from a tiny hole in a pillow pet. Meanwhile, Ciaran starts running around the house, and Brennan gets into the kitchen and pulls the casserole dish off the counter and onto the floor.

This is when Mama starts wistfully thinking about the bottle of Moscato in the fridge. I think I've earned a glass.

Happy Christmas and a Blessed Yule

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 02:59:00 +0000

I have a feeling I'm not alone. I'm a Pagan who loves Christmas. I was raised as a Christian child. My dad was the choir director at the Episcopal Church where I went all through my childhood. Christmas brought the pageant. We dressed up like angels and shepherds and acted out a beautiful story of the birth of a baby. Christmas is more than a religious holiday. It's a time that symbolizes warmth, safety, kindness, peace, goodwill toward men. You don't have to be a Christian to love these things. And, to tell the truth, I have a soft spot in my heart for the carpenter of lowly birth, who sought to teach others to live in harmony and peace.

But I'm a Pagan. I won't be celebrating Christmas as a religious holiday. My religious holiday is December 22nd, Yule. For those who don't know, Yule is when the dark half of the year gives way to the light. It is when the Oak King, the Sun God who gives life, is reborn of the Goddess, vanquishing the Holly King. I always think of Christmas as the day that the Son is born, and Yule the day that the Sun is born. There are so many parallels between the two holidays, though (of course) each has a meaning that is uniquely it's own.

This year that we will not be celebrating Christmas at all. We asked the kids what they wanted to do. Celebrate Yule as a religious holiday and then Christmas as a cultural one? Just Yule? It turned out they were perfectly content to celebrate only Yule.

So, we've decorated the Yule Tree. We'll have presents. We'll make cookies for Santa. In fact, in my husband's tradition (Asatru), the God Odin was said to ride across the sky, giving gifts to his people. Odin looks a bit like Santa actually, if maybe just a touch fiercer. We will spend time with those we love, give thanks for the many gifts of the Season, and rejoice that there is a light in the darkness. Whether Christian or Pagan, these are great gifts, for which we should be grateful. And as much as I love Christmas, I've realized that I haven't given up a single thing that I truly love.

Happy Christmas and a Blessed Yule to all those who celebrate. .

Yule Resources for families:
The Pooka Pages for Pagan Kids
Celebrating Yule With Kids
Yule @ Pagan Kids N Kin

Mommy Dearest

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 05:24:00 +0000

Earlier today Ciaran came home from school. My just-turned-six-years-old-on-Tuesday boy came in, demanded my tablet so he could play Angry Birds (I said no), sang a song, then went into the playroom with his brothers where he immediately peed his pants and stripped naked. Welcome home, Ciaran.

He peed his pants twice this evening. In my mind I could see what I'd like to do. Like Mommy Dearest with the wire hangers, I wanted to smack him with his own wet pants. Can't he see how crazy it makes me when he does this? On purpose? When he knows how to use the toilet?

No. Of course he can't. Autism has many things that make kids truly special, but one of the drawbacks is that he has trouble seeing anything from my perspective. I count it a minor miracle that he'll say sorry if he thinks he's stepped on my foot. After all, it didn't hurt him, and he didn't mean to, so why should he be sorry?

So, I can't act like that. Not that I would even if he didn't have Autism. Now, I'd be lying if I said I've always kept my cool. I'm human. But I'm their mom. It's my job to love and protect them even if they're making me want to flee to the nearest girlfriend who has an open bottle of wine. And there is a certain kind of parent that I can never be.

When I was very little, I had a caregiver who obviously didn't like children very much. She had two of her own, and I think she loved them. But us? The kids who spent their days with her? I don't think she liked us at all. And she made us all unhappy because of it. I can still remember how each day I'd leave her house thinking, "I like her. I'll be extra good and maybe she'll be nice to me tomorrow." With a child's innocence I continued to try to love her into loving me back. But I couldn't do it.

I'm lucky. She was just my caregiver. And when I was in Kindergarten, she quit, and I went to daycare instead. I think, even now, that experience colors who I am as a parent. I want my children to respect me. But I don't want them to fear me. I don't want them to feel they have to earn my love. I always want them to feel safe with me.

Tonight, Bridget has the stomach flu. Liam is attached to me as if he were made of velcro, and sleeps only short periods if not in my bed. Okay, he sleeps for short periods even when he's in my bed. Piper is sleeping on the couch since her room smells like a sick Bridget. It's probably going to be a long night. And I'll get through it, while taking care of my kids (with the help of an awesome husband, of course). Because that's what you do as the parent. I know there are women out there who don't do this. Women who abuse and neglect their children. I will never understand them. Ever.

Liar Liar Pants On Fire

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 04:24:00 +0000

It's a familiar scene...once again one of my children has explained something to me, and I know for a fact that they're lying.

Tonight it was Bridget. Yesterday she told me that she'd been walking home from school and dropped her homework in the snow. Now it was all wet and she couldn't do it. Fine. Whatever. Explain it to your teacher and I'm sure she'll understand. But she tried to give me the same explanation today for why she didn't do her homework. But there's a problem. She's too smart to drop her homework in the snow two days in a row. She's just making this up, and I know it.

Reagan looked on, shaking his head. He knows from experience that mom's bullshit detector is fine tuned. I could almost hear him, in his head, willing her to just come clean.

I wonder why they lie to me. I always know. And they usually end up being in more trouble than they would have been if they'd just told me the truth. But she's not the first to lie to me, and she won't be the last. I pulled Bridget's homework, dry and ready to be done, out of her backpack. She's less than happy with me right now. But I don't have "stupid" tattooed on my forehead. I've been around a while, and I'm smarter than she is, at least for now. They'd all be better off if they realized that.

Good Enough Mom

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 04:58:00 +0000

Hi, my name is Anne, and I can be an insecure parent.

"Hi, Anne."

I spend way too much time second guessing my choices and worrying about how one decision or another is going to affect my child for life. I've wondered how long each will need therapy, and which of my many mistakes they'll tell their shrink about. Is it the Lord of the Rings middle names we gave them? Is it how I made Reagan write me a paper on why the rules apply to him, when I know he hates writing more than any other consequence?

Then I remind myself that they'll have way more to tell their therapist about their dad than me.

I really thought my parents always knew exactly what they were doing. But here I am, flying blind and hoping that I'm getting enough right that someday they still come to visit me, bring by grandchildren, and pick out a really nice nursing home for me. Especially the nursing home part.

I'm trying to remember that as much as I'm not a perfect parent, they're not perfect kids either. So it'll all work out in the end. And as much as what we read may tell us that we have to feed our kids this, or dress them that way, or cosleep, or crib sleep, or whatever, it is not those decisions by themselves that make or break us as parents. It's the totality of who we are, what we teach them, and the relationships we form that
help make them who they are. And in that sense, I'm doing just fine.

10 Things You Should Know About Lice

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 03:35:00 +0000

They are sent by Satan for the torment of you, and your children. I believe this with all my heart, and I don't even believe in Satan.
Lice eggs are brown. Nits are egg casing and are white. These are two different things, but both hang on for dear life. Those little combs that come in the packaging? They're a complete waste of time.
Over the counter treatments are becoming less and less effective over time. The lice are becoming immune to the ingredients. Fabulous. So this means that we have to become creative in how we attack them. Oh, yes, we are at war. The Cetaphil treatment is time consuming, but cheap, and according to this doctor, is 96% effective. I have to say I was actually pretty impressed with the Cetaphil.
There are a lot of myths about lice. Hair dye won't cure lice because it won't kill the eggs. Most things won't kill the eggs. And most of the things that are thought to loosen the nits, haven't been proven to do so. The best way to get rid of them is vigilance.
Once lice have been discovered in your children, you will itch. All the time. That said, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not after you. This is war! Never sleep! Or, you know, just have someone look you over from time to time.
Turns out that lice are persistent, but not that hardy. Then again they're apparently millions of years old. Millions. That's a lot of time to learn how to live through what we want to do to them.
It's okay to get lice. It's not okay to keep them and give them names. Or so says my mother. But I think it's fine to give them names. Just none of mine are very nice.
Lice don't jump or fly. They won't jump from head to head. But they crawl really fast. Like, ridiculous fast. Like, if we could tame them and race them, that would be...well it would be silly because they're the size of a sesame seed when fully grown. But, you get what I'm saying, right?
Not everyone itches. Apparently that's a reaction to the anticoagulant the louse uses while it feeds. That's not creepy. {{shudder}}
They will go away. I promise. Just never as soon as you want them to.

Bugged

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Sun, 04 Dec 2011 03:53:00 +0000

There are 3 things every mother knows:

Don't wash your pretty red tablecloth with the kids clothes, unless you'd like your sons to have pink socks. I hope my boys enjoy their pretty pink socks I made for them.
Laundry never ends, it just reproduces itself. I'll have to go tackle some more when I'm done here.
It's only when you're most frazzled and overwhelmed that you'll hear the dreaded words, "Your daughter has live head lice".

It's been one hell of a week. And the topper was every mom's all-time favorite: Lice. I was at the doctors office for a weigh in (Liam's, not mine) and found that my little guy has put on a whole pound in the last 2 weeks (Yay!) when the school nurse's office called. Piper had live bugs in hair, and they were going to check Bridget out.

Both girls were contaminated. Two hours and $30 later I was was bathing my girls and washing their hair with the nasty louse killer shampoo. I would love to have done the organic system, but that would have been $50 for one set. I just can't afford it. I did a damn good job, though with the washing and combing. I've been doing daily checks to find any missed nits, and so far, I've found very little.

I've decontaminated the house, bedding, clothing, and everything else, and am feeling very good about the job I've done. But I have to say, while I've had no real symptoms of lice, every time I really think about them, I scratch my head. Then I shudder a little.

I will be swimming in Tea Tree Oil Shampoo and Conditioner for the foreseeable future. I suggest everyone else do the same.

Liam Has Surgery

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Sat, 26 Nov 2011 03:52:00 +0000

He wasn't gaining much weight. He wasn't keeping much food down. He seemed to be in pain. And so, another ultrasound was ordered and we finally heard the words we'd hoped to avoid: Liam needed a shunt.

It was a rough week as I took him to appointments and did my best to prepare myself. Because I have the best friends in the world, I ended up with very little alone time, and a house full of food. Then last Friday, Liam had a successful surgery.

He and I came home on Sunday, after two days in the hospital, to find Karina home from college. Then my parents came Monday from California. They've been here all week for an incredible visit. I can't explain how much I enjoy watching my children spend time talking to and cuddling with their grandparents.

I may need a week to recover from Thanksgiving and from the stress of Liam's surgery. Don't get me wrong, I'm so grateful that he is able to get the care he needs. It's just still stressful to watch my baby have to recover from something else when I just want him to be healthy and happy.

I'm really grateful though. Grateful for supportive family. Grateful for friends with their casseroles, hugs, and humor. Grateful for medical professionals who've gone so far above and beyond for my son. Grateful for those who know what he needs and how to get it for him.

Happy Thanksgiving

Dear Liam

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 05:37:00 +0000

Dear Liam,

When I got the diagnosis that you had an encephalocele, I was really scared. I thought, once you were born and I'd held you in my arms, I wouldn't be afraid anymore. I guess I just thought that with the weight of you, would come a feeling of permanence. Mommies sometimes have ways of kidding themselves. Because if we didn't, we wouldn't know what to do.

You'll be five months old tomorrow. You've done so much already. You've were born premature, had brain surgery, and worked really hard to do the things that other babies do very easily. But it's been a struggle, and lately you've been fighting too hard. We're not sure how much you can see, but we know you don't see us. You eat, but you can't always keep it down. You're gaining weight very slowly. You cry a lot more than you did. We wonder if you hurt.

It's been decided that next Friday, you'll have another surgery. This one will put a shunt into your brain to let the extra fluid out. They think it's that fluid that's making you have to work so hard. I have to be honest, kid, I'm scared again. I know this is a relatively minor surgery, and I should probably take a deep breath because in a few years you'll be doing things that are probably much more dangerous than this, but I'm your mom so I don't have to be logical or reasonable.

There are a lot of things you're going to learn about me as you grow up. I'm not afraid to talk to you about anything. I have a wicked sense of humor and probably rely a little too heavily on sarcasm. I don't let my kids get away with much. But most of all, I love you beyond what I can explain with words. And the day that you are old enough and capable enough to read this, I'm probably going to cry, like I've done when you've hit every milestone. You're my son, and I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you grow up healthy and happy. And I'll probably drive you crazy in the process. I'm pretty sure that's what mom's are for. I think I read that in the handbook.

So, you just get through this next surgery, and we'll see what comes next. I promise I'll be there every step of the way.

Love,

Mom

A Little Liam Update

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 03:11:00 +0000

I have to say, being this cute little guy's mom is amazing. It's also a roller coaster of emotions as we seem to resolve some things just in time to worry about new things. The fluid in his brain kept increasing after he came home from the hospital, and a shunt seemed like an inevitability. Then, suddenly, a few weeks ago, it started to resolve, and it looked like he might be out of the woods. Maybe it was just going to take some growth to help stabilize his brain.

Then Dominic and I finally admitted a fear we were having. Liam doesn't look at us. When I say his name, he grins. But if I smile at him...nothing. He can't see me. He doesn't see bright toys, he doesn't track. He does see bright lights, but lighted toys don't interest him. Ophthalmology has decided that he should be seen. But it's non emergent, so it might not be until December or January. In the meantime, I'm trying to provide him with textured toys that he can explore through touch, and lots of sound.

Liam is also having some growth issue. When he was teeny, we were supplementing with fortified breast milk in addition to breastfeeding. It brought him up to the 50th percentile on the growth chart. Then the kids started school, brought home their crud, and Liam got sick, making it hard to nurse due to congestion. He dropped from the 50th percentile, down to the 3rd. My supply dropped, too. It's been six weeks of supplements for him and me, pumping, and doing everything in our power to bring him back up. It's not happening. He's growing and putting on weight, but he's still at the 3rd percentile.

So, our Pediatrician called gastroenterology. See, Liam's been treated for reflux almost since he first came home. That kid spits up like nothing I've ever seen. Gastro seems to think that the pressure in his head is making him spit up too much to be able to really grow and thrive. So, if the fluid doesn't fully resolve, and soon, then he may still need a shunt because it's affecting his ability to eat.

I worry a lot. Just when I think I can stop, I find something new to worry about. And I still wouldn't trade a single minute of it. I know Liam's here, when other's are not. I can give him a kiss, listen to him coo, and watch him sleep. I don't take that for granted. I can't. I think that's what happens when you know too much. It's the lesson of loss and survival.

It's Hard Out There For A Mom

noreply@blogger.com (Muse Mama) — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 03:10:00 +0000

You have no idea how badly I want to open up this blog post with a line about getting money for the rent. And, no, I couldn't come up with anything more clever than that. What can I say? It was a really long day.

There are a lot of things that making my job as Mom harder. But I don't feel like taking an entire blog post to bitch about how hard things are. It's November. Thanksgiving month. I should be thinking about the things I'm grateful for. There are a lot of things I'm grateful for. And let's not pretend that there aren't 1000 other mom blogs out there sharing the woes of motherhood and doing it a hell of a lot better than I am.

But can I share something that's bugging me? After all, it's just us here, right? I'm sick of people telling me I'm a Super Mom. If I deny it (as I should), I sound like I can't take a compliment. But, to be honest, it's a bold-faced lie. Super Moms don't get overwhelmed by homeschooling and give it up. Super Moms bake cookies, always have the laundry done, have a clean house/kids/cats/whatever, don't lose their temper with their kids, have positive attitudes, and feed their babies only the best. Last week when I was sick, I served my kids poptarts for breakfast. They ate them. I called it good.

There's nothing "super" about me. But then, I think the real truth is that there is no Super Mom. There's only us real moms. And we're way better anyway.