Late Night Adventures with Your ChildrenWritten by Kate Hufstetler
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** Go to bed early and make a run for Denny's at 3 am ** Watch sun rise together while eating Krispy Kreme donuts and drinking milk at 6 am (or even add homemade fortune cookies so you both have something cool to open up with a positive outlook pronounced on your day ahead) The difference with about late night adventures with your children vs. weekends or vacations is simply that late night adventures are novelty, costing less money and more quality attention. Your kid will be envy of other kids-- because what other parent do you know that does these things?! Believe me, kids in our neighborhood still can't get over some of things my son tells them we do. In fact, they want to come along. Every now and then, go on and forget about adult in you and join your child in being a kid. Regain your sense of wonder and enchantment. Throw rules to wind and have some innocent fun. If you do, I promise you will shine in their eyes and fill both your hearts with rich memories that will last your life time. Until next time--- all best, Kate
Kate Hufstetler is a well established personal and relationship coach. She offers coaching services via email and phone consultations. http://www.comedreamwithme.com/start_today.html
| | Writer's BlockWritten by Abigail Dotson
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I imagined my daughter reading these colorless words in years to come and felt robbed of gift I always assumed I would give her. The mother I was in my dreams recorded her first maternal days in a lively and dedicated journal, but I was quick to find out that we can’t all be Anne Lamott. It seemed that raising a child, at least a newborn, was in and of itself such a creative trial that there was none left over. And I had (read: had) a relatively easy baby. She was mostly happy; she slept peacefully nestled next to me, waking often but only to nurse and fall back into dreams. Friends and family were constantly around, feeding us and taking turns admiring her infantness. I was happy- elated, even- adrenaline pumped but still tired (although looking back on those days, I think, crazily enough, not as tired as I am now). I was perhaps steeped in delusion, filled with a Wonder Woman-like feeling that not only would I, should I, raise this little baby of mine, but I would also write beautiful stories and poems and adventure tales. In my post-partum craziness, I didn’t realize that I was spent. The hours of rocking and walking, of singing sweet lullabies and silly songs, conversations where I was only one talking- this was where my poetry was written. The experience was not so dull and uninspirational as to neglect provocation of creative endeavor, nor was I suddenly transformed into such a dull and uninspirational person as to inhibit imagination. I was simply redefining it for myself. Temporarily.Eighteen months later I am only beginning to find words again. I am just starting to call myself a writer. I feel spark again, deep in my gut, like an old friend I am so happy to let back in door. My daughter still takes up most of my time. At eighteen months, she runs and plays and sings and talks; we dress up and kick down castles, dump out buckets of water and take long walks on beach. There is hardly a moment to get a word down on paper, and sometimes I wait all week for that opening, only to find myself at a loss for words once again. But sometimes, when she has slept well night before and had a relatively peaceful morning, she may fall asleep for an afternoon nap and I may have just enough energy to forgoe nap and snuggle for an hour or two with keyboard instead. What I realized is that not only is raising a child all things that everyone tells you: it is also an art form. Raising my daughter, right now, for me, is an art. I paint her and mold her and shape her and write her into each of my own dawns, and then I stand back and admire her as she learns to paint and mold and shape and write herself into each of her own days.
Abigail lives in Southern California with her daughter Ruby Jane. Her work has appeared in the anthology Loving Mama: Essays on Natural Parenting and Childbirth, on Mothering Magazine's website, and in Growing Up In Santa Cruz.
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