Rocks and Blueberries: March 2010

Do kids make us happier?

One of the gals in the playgroup I hang out with is a psychotherapist and regularly writes articles for a parenting website. She recently reached out to all of us for our opinion on her current topic:

Do kids make us happier?

Clearly a loaded question. I let it marinate for a couple of days before getting back to her. And after finally replying I decided I wanted to share my thoughts on the subject. So here it is:

The simple answer would be: yes. Though I'm sure my kidless friends would say that they are just as happy if not happier because they are still able to live footloose and fancy-free. I probably wouldn't argue with them because until you have the experience of having a child, you really know no other frame of reference, right? So the more I thought about it, the more I thought that "happy" might be too black & white of an idea. Which I think is pretty fitting when it comes to talking about kids because raising them is often filled with so many shades of gray. Becoming a mother has changed me in ways I never would've imagined. And, opened my eyes and heart to feelings and things I never knew existed. I am "happier" because I feel my life is so much richer, fulfilling and satisfying.

JD and I have always had a good relationship, but having this experience together sometimes feels like a secret whispered between each other. The kind that makes you knowingly wink at each other when you catch the other person's eyes across the room. It's strengthened our bond and I feel infinitely closer to him. So that makes me happier.

Having a kid has made me appreciate my own mother more because obviously now I KNOW. After a few nights of sleeping on the floor next to Emerson's bed in the middle of the night, I suddenly felt like an a-hole for being such a creep to my mom during those tumultuous teen years because now I knew the love and sacrifice that I give to Emerson without question was the same she gave (and still gives) to me. So that makes me happier. **[Footnote: This isn't to say my dad is chopped liver of course. He is equally awesome!]

Though we have our rough patches (ie. tantrums, sleepless nights), Emerson's smile and laughter always outweighs them 200%. So that makes me happier.

I hate to be bored. Having a kid is the ultimate challenge/puzzle and is never boring. So that makes me happier.

Having a kid makes me feel pretty empowered and kick-ass that I CAN do this. So that makes me happier.

Having a kid has helped me put life in perspective. Things that I used to think were important, now seem so trivial. Constantly learning what counts in my life makes me happier.

This list could really go on and on, but I'm sure you pick up on my theme here. I guess it just really boils down to the fact that I feel my life is so much more of an onion now -- sometimes it makes you cry, but all those layers are what make it so delicious. Unless you don't like onions and then maybe it's more like a pomegranate -- it's a lot of hard work, but all those little jewels are totally worth it.

Kisses make everything better.

I hate it when I see kids BARELY hurt themselves falling, bumping their heads or whatever and they waaaaaillll like they lost an arm just for the attention it gets them. I roll my eyes and fight the urge to go over and say, "Hey kid, man up! Geez!" So with Emerson, our approach was to not make a big deal about it unless he made a big deal about it. Now that doesn't mean that a legitimate injury doesn't warrant a little extra snuggle. But, kids are sly little suckers and if they find out that some big fat tears and whimpering gets them a, "OH MY POOR BABY," they catch on quick. Before you know it, junior starts wailing any time he merely touches the edge of the table. Nobody wants that kid. So far it seems to have worked because either Emerson has secretly participated in government experiments without my knowledge and is now the next indestructible Wolverine, or he's just become a tough little guy.

It all started when he began to crawl. I can't tell you how many times I watched him knock his noggin pretty hard on the coffee table. Internally I would wince, "Oooo, that one had to hurt." But I never said anything and 9 times out of 10 he would just keep truckin' like nothing happened. That 1 time out of 10 that he did get all scrunched face and let out a wail, I of course immediately went to soothe him with a kiss. Let me tell you, it's a funny thing that kiss. I'm actually beginning to think that my kisses may actually harbor some magical, healing powers. Seriously. I am magic. When Emerson hurts himself enough to produce tears, as soon as I kiss the boo-boo area, count it... 5-4-3-2-1 healed! Crying ceases, tears evaporate and he's off and running with a smile on his face. Every time. It's amazing.

However, it turns out Emerson is not above taking advantage of the kiss. Last night, after Emerson's bath we were all monkeying around on the bed. He loves to jump and throw himself into the fluffy comforter over and over again. One of those time he must've fallen a little to "hard" on his bottom and he started to whimper.

"What's wrong?" JD asks.
"Butt hurt," Emerson replies.
"You hurt your butt," confirms JD.
"Yeah. Kiss it." And he starts laughing at his own joke.

I thought we had a long way to go before he started to telling us to kiss his butt. What a little devil.

Happy New Year!

This one is a bit belated, I know...

2009 was a good year for us. Lots to be grateful for. So were we going to celebrate at a wild party with tons of champagne, hootin' and hollerin' until our voices were nothing more than tiny squeaks? No, we were going to stay home. We'd just gotten a new bed (KING size bitches!) and we couldn't wait to spend the weekend on our very own Bed Island. No, no, no. Nothing kinky folks. This blog is rated PG after all. Well, maybe PG-13, but my point is that we were still basking in our new bed honeymoon and wanting to spend as much time as possible in it just lounging around in it's fluffiness.

But then as we're talking to our friends, the Parkers, a new plan begins to brew. How about Big Sur? The next day, other friends call to find out what we're up to. "Big Sur. Camping. You in?" And just like that, we had a mini crew packed up and headed for Big Sur.

Before hitting the campsite, we stopped at the famous Hearst Castle. Here, the media mogul William Randolph Hearst had himself built an astonishing estate. What started off as just, "I want a bungalow because I'm tired of camping when I come up here," turned into a lavish abode with 115 rooms and 3 huge guest houses that took almost 30 years to complete. It was a-ma-zing. And the views -- absolutely beautiful.

New Year's Eve, we took a little hike. To reward ourselves afterwards, we stopped in at Nepenthe restaurant to watch the sunset over a bottle of wine. The view here was utterly breathtaking. Back at the campsite, we feasted on ribs and other yummy vittles. However, ringing in the new year at a campsite puts a different twist on things. It's pretty dark by like 6:00, so after dinner you're just sitting there by the campfire, in the dark trying to rally. And well, when midnight finally came I was so tired I didn't have it in me to partake in the champagne toast and just scurried off to bed. Poo poo, I know. But that's camping for you.

The next day, we packed up and stopped at Pfeiffer State Beach before hitting the road back to LA. This was the crowning glory of the trip in my opinion. Easily one of the most amazing beaches I've ever been too. Tide pools with all kinds of sea creatures, staggering views, the place was just heavenly. We couldn't have timed it more perfectly if we'd actually planned it, because after playing around for a while the sun started to set and wow... no words. What a way to start 2010! Happy New Year!