Mom in the Mirror

Kids in cars

I've done lots of stupid things as a parent but I've never left my child alone in the car, and I am constantly amazed that people do (especially in Florida, where cars get really hot really quickly).

When I picked up Colter at school yesterday, I parked next to an SUV that was left running, with three children (ages 1-8, I think) in the backseat. I went inside, waited while Colter came leisurely strolling over from the playground, got his backpack, then headed to the car. More than five minutes later, those kids were still inside, with no adult in sight. I was stunned. And -- I admit -- disgusted.

Have you ever left your kid(s) alone in the car? If so, why and for how long?

You don't say...

Thank you, Shai, for this great feature on Blogging Mamas at Weblogs.About.Com. It's wonderful to see DotMoms featured so prominently and to learn about why other moms read and write weblogs.

And thank you, Heather, for this incredibly sweet endorsement while "spreading some bloggy love":

Mom in the Mirror: She's a mom who always ends her entries with a question for her reader and that makes it more interactive and fun. I love her parenting style -- the way she does things really reminds me of my mom, and as I've gotten older I've been able to see the wisdom in the way my mom raised me. So maybe my mom was right after all... hrm... and ... Colter's going to grow up and be grateful that he was lucky enough to have a mom who knew how to raise him right!

Go ahead, brag: what's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about you?

Pregnant with envy

I'm in a waiting room full of moms-to-be, and I'm filled with envy. There for my annual visit, I want to be seeing the ob-gyn instead for a ballooning belly, a life pregnant with possibilities.

I miss feeling like everything is ahead of me as a parent, like I'm a clean slate about to be written on by my child's love. I feel more like the fingernails on a chalkboard as the mother of an 8-year-old boy.

I want to travel back to a time before regrets.

If only I could begin again. I wouldn't let him watch so much television; I'd let him eat more chocolate; I'd relax.

I miss feeling like I have important firsts ahead of me: His first word. His first step. His first full night's sleep.

I want a second chance to enjoy them.

Just as my husband and I re-create our romance, remember our early times together, renew our vows, I want to find that place as a parent where I can start over, re-live the freshness with the benefit of experience.

I love my son exactly as he is -- more or less -- but I was too tired, too confused, too frightened to love much of his early years.

I was too busy to nap with him. Too overwhelmed to simply sit and watch him play. Too distracted to take pictures or note each milestone in his baby book (When he asks, "How old was I when I lost my first tooth," what will I tell him?!)

It was easier before he was born, when he was growing inside me, an orb of potential.

I loved being pregnant. I loved being a protective barrier between my child and the world. I could feed him good food and know he wasn't eating snow cones and Snickers someone else bought him. I could talk to him and know he heard me. I could feel his every movement.

There was time enough and hope. All was life. All was good. All was complete and yet to come.

Colter was a part of me then in a way he hasn't been since birth. We're tethered together emotionally, but like an astronaut floating away from the mothership, he wanders now. Farther and farther as the days, weeks, months, years pass.

And it's my job to stay behind, at home base, waiting for him to radio if he needs help. I send telepathic messages to him in his 2nd grade classroom: Please be OK. Please need me.

It isn't that I want a second child as much as I want a second chance with my first. I want to bring him home from the hospital again, change his first diaper, give him his first bath.

There are still firsts left, but they're smaller moments these days, and more anxiety-provoking -- his first summer away at camp, his first date, his first rejection.

And they're quickly followed by seconds, thirds, and fourths. At some point, I'll just stop counting. And maybe that's when my second stage as a parent will begin –- when I stop marking milestones and start marking moments.

After all, the firsts are often group events, played out publicly, live or on videotape. It's everything that comes after which truly tests us as parents. It's when life gets boring that it sometimes gets most interesting.

I can't change the past, can't breastfeed him more, burp him more, baby him more while he's still a baby.

But I can be the best mother I know how at every stage of his life, by giving him what he needs when he needs it and making every first... and second... count.

This LifeFiles column originally appeared on about 70 TV station websites managed by Internet Broadcasting Systems.

Imposter syndrome

Have you ever felt like at any moment you could be "found out"? I've felt that way for as long as I can remember. As a teen, I knew as soon as anyone learned about my mother or my family's history they'd realize I wasn't "normal" (as if any teen is). As a young woman, I knew some of my sexual relationships would be surprising to many of my older friends. And as a wife and mother, I marvel when someone tells me I'm doing a good job, because I can't help thinking: "If they only knew."

If they only knew...

• My husband falls asleep on the couch watching TV more often than I'd like.
• My son punches himself in the head when he gets frustrated.
• My list of failures reaches from Florida's Gulf Coast to the coast of California -- and back again.

When do you feel most like a fraud?

Have you heard that gullible is not in the dictionary?

My son believes everything anyone else tells him. So why doesn't he believe me?

Do you really need a ring to tell you your mood?

Colter thinks he does. He's getting one today on his field trip to the Science Center. I tried to explain to him how they work, but he is certain there is a sensor in your brain that tells your finger how you feel. Too bad they don't sell a ring that will tell Colter how I feel!

Training wheels

Colter's never been much of a bike rider. Now he's 8 and has started wanting a two-wheeler. I'm trying not to comment on the symbolism here, but I can't help myself: Colter has always been one to get ahead of himself, to run before he could walk. So, he may get a new bike that he can't ride... yet.

How old were your kids when they learned to ride without training wheels?

If I can stop one heart from breaking

I love this poem by Emily Dickinson:

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

What's your favorite poem?

Keeping confidences

There's a thread on DotMoms about lying to your child. It reminds me of how difficult it is to determine (especially for kids) what to keep confidential and what to share.

We were part of an incident last week that forced a discussion with Colter about this. One friend of Colter's casually revealed to him and another boy that a friend of theirs (who is 10 years old) wears diapers. My heart broke for the little girl, who was playing with them at the time. She was born prematurely, with some long-term developmental disabilities, most of which are not apparent to kids, so I wasn't surprised by the revelation but I was surprised by the reaction.

She started crying and then asked to speak with her friend privately. She explained to her that she felt betrayed and, eventually, she forgave her. She was very poised and able to speak for herself.

So I stayed out of it for the most part -- even though they were having this discussion in my living room -- except to tell them that words are powerful and once spoken cannot be retrieved. (There's a folktale about this element of gossip that I love.)

I also had a long talk with Colter about understanding and appreciating differences. We talked about his allergies, his ADHD, his Jewishness. And we talked about when to keep confidences and when to tell someone else something, especially an adult. I drew the line at information that could get someone hurt, emotionally or physically.

Have you ever betrayed a confidence? Has your child? What happened?

Do good anyway

We have a friend visiting, so we went to the Chihuly exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts, the Florida Aquarium, and ended the day at Target & Borders so that Colter could spend some birthday money he's managed to keep for four days, and I could browse. Our visiting friend and I both ended up buying a book called "Anyway." The subtitle is: "The Paradoxical Commandments: Finding Personal Meaning in a Crazy World." Here's one of the commandments: "The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway." I can't wait to read more!