• Skip to main content
  • Skip to footer

Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

  • Home
  • About Elaine
    • Privacy Policy
  • ALL BOOKS
  • Blog
  • Books
  • Contact
  • Storyteller
You are here: Home / Archives for parenting

parenting

Fabulous Facts about My Daughter

March 27, 2023 By Elaine Ambrose

After more than four decades of watching and knowing my daughter, I continue to appreciate her strengths and talents. We’re alike because we love to travel and enjoy making people laugh. We’re different because she’s more empathetic and doesn’t need a public microphone. Here are some interesting facts about her.

1.  She is a resilient maverick. After 22 hours of labor, she emerged between metal forceps as the doctor braced his foot against the bed and pulled. She weighed almost 10 pounds and was rushed to the Intensive Care Unit with an Apgar Score of 3. That’s when I knew all the pleasant birth and parenting videos were wrong. I finally got to see and hold her 12 hours later. For the next few months, I woke to touch her every few hours to make sure she was breathing.

2.  She is precocious. We loved to read books together, and she memorized more than 20 nursery rhymes by the age of two. I know that’s true because I wrote about it in my journal. She’s still an avid reader.

3. She is adaptable. She had six bedrooms in two states by the time she was six. The photo in the rocking chair was taken when we lived at Sand Springs Ranch on the edge of a canyon overlooking the Snake River. We were forced to move, I was seven months pregnant, and she became my dependable helper.

4.  She is organized. We created and hosted wellness retreats for women at mountain cabins in Central Idaho. She taught yoga, made healthy meals, and guided the groups on hiking excursions to hidden hot springs. She created crafts for the participants and led inspirational workshops. She also taught me how to set up a website and establish social media accounts. Now she plans workshops, retreats, a podcast, events, and goat yoga.

5.  She is healthy. She owned the Stroller Strides franchise and helped young mothers exercise with their babies. She opened a private gym and tailored classes to all ages of women. We jogged in the 5K Women’s Fitness Challenge in Boise. I was one of the last people at the end of the race, but I finished.

6. She loves the arts. We saw Broadway musicals in London, New York, Chicago, and San Francisco. She starred in a play in high school and later at a community theatre in Hawaii. She also won a writing award from the Idaho Writers Guild and helped translate one of my children’s books.

7.  She loves to travel. We traveled to Europe twice and visited France, Italy, Germany, and Spain. We enjoyed excursions when she studied for a year in Guanajuato, Mexico. We traveled with my mother on an 11-day train trip across Canada from Toronto to Vancouver. (We decided three days would have been sufficient.)

8.  She’s funny and has an amazing sense of humor. As a child, she could make me laugh at her stories, antics, and imitations.

9.  She is ready for adventure. She visited Hawaii after college graduation and decided to stay. She taught at the Waldorf School on Maui and worked on a tourist boat. When I was 52, we hiked and backpacked for three days across the Haleakala Crater on Maui, Hawaii. I was ready to quit and go live in the forest, but she encouraged me to keep going. So, I did. She returned to Idaho with her future husband and a sweet baby girl.

10. She speaks with authentic compassion. Her eulogy to my mother blended affection, humor, and inspiration to her memories of her beloved Grandma Sweetie.

One key fact about my daughter is that she is an incredible mother. She has two unique and precious daughters, and they are confident, talented girls. After my daughter had a baby with special needs, the medical professionals told her the baby wouldn’t be able to breastfeed. “Hold my beer” could have been her motto. She worked with the baby until she proved to the doctors that it could be done. Her dedication to her family is commendable.

If I could change anything about raising my daughter, it would be to reduce the long hours she spent in various childcare facilities. I worked full-time to pay the bills and establish my career, and there weren’t any job-sharing opportunities available. Those crucial years can’t be replaced. The bittersweet irony of motherhood is that we live more years without our children than with them. That’s another fact not explained in the parenting videos.

I love my daughter and wish her good health and happiness..

 

 

Filed Under: blog Tagged With: #health, adventure, career, childcare, daughters, family, Humor, parenting, travel

Grandma’s Legacy

June 15, 2020 By Elaine Ambrose

A Short Story by Elaine Ambrose

Ella was thirteen years old when she came home from school and found her mother and her Aunt Mary crying in the kitchen.

Ella rushed to her mother and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“We lost Grandma,” her mother sobbed.

“Well go find her!” Ella demanded. She started to run out the door to go search for her grandmother, but her mother gently guided her to the couch and sat beside her.

“I should have said she passed away. Grandma died today.”

Ella realized her grandmother wasn’t lost. She was dead. Ella wept.

Several nights later, Ella couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about her grandmother. Ella thought about the wonderful and happy adventures they had enjoyed. Her grandmother was funny and active, and they often sang songs and made up silly stories. It wasn’t fair they couldn’t be together.

She finally fell asleep and began to dream. In her vision, she rode her bicycle to a strange place. Her grandmother was there, and she was wearing a sparkling purple dress and had flowers in her long, white hair. Other older people were in the room with her.

“Grandma!” Ella cried. “Please come back. I miss you.”

The grandmother smiled at Ella. “It was my time to go,” she said gently. “But I won’t be far away from you. Every time you smell gingerbread and pine trees, think of our winter holidays together. Feel my touch when the warm summer breeze moves your hair. And when you hear the song of the meadowlark, know I am watching over you.”

“I want to tell stories with you again,” Ella said.

“You will, in your own way,” said her grandmother. “You can write or tell me stories and pretend I’m with you. We’ll never be completely apart because you and I share the bloodline of our ancestors. You carry the spirit and creative talents of writers, poets, musicians, and entertainers. You have compassion, goodness, and courage from your relatives who were teachers, caregivers, soldiers, and peace officers. Your pioneer heritage includes farmers, truck drivers, and community volunteers. And, you carry the spiritual faith of generations of strong people who never gave up, even when betrayed or suffering from physical and mental pain.”

Ella was amazed at her grandmother’s words and felt proud to continue the family legacy. “I won’t disappoint you, Grandma,” she said.

When Ella woke the next morning, she remembered the dream. She opened her bedroom window and saw a meadowlark in the tree next to the house. The bird had a bright yellow chest with speckled brown feathers and sang a cheerful song.

“Good morning, Grandma,” Ella said as she reached for her notebook and pencil. “Let’s write a story.”

(Illustrations are from the award-winning, children’s book Gators & Taters – A Week of Bedtime Stories.“)

Filed Under: blog Tagged With: #Grandmother, #tradition, ancestors, Children, death, dreams, family, heritage, legacy, parenting, Storytelling

Granny’s Ungrateful Goat

June 2, 2020 By Elaine Ambrose

A Short Story by Elaine Ambrose

Granny Margarita was a jolly woman who lived in the country on a small farm. One day she decided to go to the store and buy a nanny for granny. She brought the goat home and fixed a cozy pen and scattered fresh straw for a bed. She filled a water trough and offered the goat some fresh apples.

“Baaa!” exclaimed the goat and turned her back on Granny.

Granny fixed her favorite pecan pie using her secret recipe that won a blue ribbon at the County Fair. She brought the pie on a fancy plate and gave it to the goat.

“Baaa!” exclaimed the goat and turned her back on Granny.

Granny thought the goat was bored, so she bought some roller skates and taught the goat how to skate. The goat skated for a few minutes, fell down, and then didn’t like the skates.

“Baaa!” said the goat and turned her back on Granny.

Granny wondered if the cozy pen wasn’t good enough, so she built a bigger pen and added a pond so the goat could jump in the water.

“Baaa!” said the goat and turned her back on Granny.

Granny decided she had an ungrateful goat. She took the goat to obedience school to learn how to become self-sufficient and appreciate life. The goat finished the school but preferred to sit beneath the shade of the apple tree.

Finally, Granny Margarita accepted the fact that her goat was too grumpy and was robbing her of joy. She packed her bags and moved to a community of other seasoned folks who loved to laugh, dance, and enjoy whatever songs were left to be sung.

The Ungrateful Goat sat in her pen and waited for someone to take care of her. No one came. After a few days, the goat walked into the pasture and ate grass and found a stream so she could drink water. She found a dried old apple and eagerly gobbled the wrinkled fruit. The goat was lonely but grateful.

(Illustrations are from the children’s book Gators & Taters.– Winner of 2018 “Distinguished Favorite” for Children’s Literature from the Independent Press Awards.)

Filed Under: blog Tagged With: attitude, goats, gratitude, parenting, Storytelling

Does the Parade End at the Empy Nest?

September 25, 2018 By Elaine Ambrose

When my kids were three and five we took them to Disneyland because we wanted to spend our life’s savings to stand in line with a million sweaty people and wait an hour for a 30-second ride. Disneyland was celebrating Donald Duck’s 50th Birthday, and the speech-impaired duck was my three-year-old son’s favorite funny character (besides me, of course.) Wishing for a cattle prod, we maneuvered our way to the front of the crowd for the afternoon Magic Kingdom Parade and waited eagerly to be enchanted. On days when I border on madness (too numerous to count), I can still hear the cacophony of the calliope as the giant duck sings, “It’s Donald’s Birthday, it’s Donald’s Birthday!”

After the parade ended, my usually-ebullient son began sobbing uncontrollably. I asked what was wrong and he answered, “Because it’s over.” At that moment I would have given everything I owned to make the parade start again, but I knew that was impossible, (I didn’t own that much) so I sat on the curb and held him until he stopped crying. What else do you do when the magic goes away?

Most of us have seen several decades of parades, and sometimes we feel deflated when the commotion stops. We recently ended the season of high school and college graduations and all the summer weddings. Each celebration deserves elaborate fanfare, but we know from experience that the festivities come to an end. That’s when new graduates realize they must (pick at least one):

Get a job
Marry rich
Move out of their parent’s basement
Invent a better Facebook-Video-Game that includes donuts

And the newlyweds realize their spouse (pick at least one):
Farts on the hour and belches sulfur
Cries about road kill
Faints at your kid’s projectile vomiting
Gets diarrhea at dinner parties

Then your new spouse gets dramatically alarmed when you sleep with a:
Humming teddy bear
Dog
Nasty magazine
Picture of mother

Yes, that’s when the parade is over and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. We just need to sit on the curb in our own Magic Kingdom and hold ourselves until we stop crying.

It’s time to lead your own parade!

Many middle-aged women experience Empty Nest Syndrome after the youngest child leaves home for college, jail, the circus, or to find him/herself. After at least 18 years of majestically sacrificing our lives for our delightful offspring, they gleefully run out of the door and into the dangerous world without a helmet or a clean change of underwear. Our tears stop when they turn around to come back, but it’s only to ask for gas money. We slink back to our reruns of the Carol Burnett Show and pathetically relate to the cleaning lady at the end who sweeps up the mess and turns off the lights.

Good News! Now is your opportunity to turn that empty bedroom into a retreat for:

Sewing, craft, and writing projects
A private wine bar
Afternoon sex
Séances with Madam Moonbeam (great write-off)
All of the above

Do it now so the kids can’t move back and bring their pet spider collection, garage band, and/or face-eating zombie. Also, you could use your extra time to take a class, try yoga, volunteer, or start a creative project. You may want to focus on your physical and mental health; maybe talk to a professional about that stupid duck song that keeps squawking in your head. Or (my favorite suggestion) become the drum major of your own parade, just don’t forget to tip the guy who cleans up after the horses. And, of course, any midlife parade is best enjoyed with a bold and liberated red wine.

Filed Under: blog Tagged With: #empty nest, #family, #humor, #midlife, Disneyland, Parade, parenting, vacation

How to Survive Menopause without Getting Arrested

March 28, 2018 By Elaine Ambrose

Approximately 6,000 women enter menopause every day in the United States. That means by Friday, we could populate a small town with sweating, crying inhabitants with indigestion and hairy toes. By the end of the month, we could have a city the size of Gilbert, Arizona with 180,000 women helplessly hurled into hormonal havoc. Get out of their way because some of them are in a testy mood.

It’s a crying shame that we could live to be 100 but only twenty of those years come with youthful vigor, shiny hair, smooth skin, multiple orgasms, and a flat stomach. Only the strongest species on earth could survive hot flashes, incontinence, hair loss, age spots, uncontrollable flatulence, and erratic mood swings after forty. Someone give us a crown and a plate of cookies!

While it is better than dying too young, living past forty often comes with unpleasant and bewildering challenges. For the most part, every single symptom of menopause is caused by one reason, and one reason alone: hormones. It seems that your body makes several different kinds of hormones that love to cavort through your body and play havoc with your sanity. Two major players are called estrogen and progesterone. In medical terms, estrogen is produced in your ovaries and acts as a chemical commander in chief, telling your female body what to do. In not-so-medical terms, imagine a teeny tyrant running through your brain yelling, “Grow pubic hair now!” “Ovulate from the left ovary!” or “Make that boob bigger than the other one!” As with most power-hungry rascals, estrogen likes to change the rules every now and then just to confuse you.

As perimenopause begins, your ovaries are tired of taking orders, so they decide to reduce the production of estrogen. “Attention All Sectors. Estrogen is leaving the body. Farewell party at noon in the pituitary gland.” Then all hell breaks loose and you start to experience symptoms of perimenopause. The fact that you live through this chaos is definite proof of your magnificence. A lesser species would have become extinct millions of years ago.

But why not make it a multi-generational issue! It’s a rather cruel trick of nature that you could be raising teenagers and caring for aging parents while your Generalissimo Estrogen is barking orders at your female parts, your Busy Bee Progesterones are frantically fixing up the uterus for the Sperm and Egg Combo, and your Naughty Testosterone is working your libido like a tigress in heat. Don’t give up! Soon, these symptoms will pass and you’ll be too old to remember anything.

To survive the physical and mental annoyances that assault your body and mind during menopause, here are some helpful suggestions that have absolutely no basis in medical fact:

  1. Take all your pointy-toed shoes and line them up in the driveway. Then drive over them several times before you throw them away. Your feet will feel fabulous and you’ll get rid of some latent aggression.
  2. Cool your steaming head with a boxes of frozen diet food that have been languishing in your freezer for the past ten years. You’re never going to eat them anyway so you might as well put them to good use.
  3. The next time a telemarketer calls, start explaining your ailments and frustrations in graphic detail. Don’t stop until the caller starts to cry. Then hang up.
  4. Feeling lonely? Email your friends that you’ve decided to give all your money to that nice young man who emailed from Nigeria. Then sit back and wait for them to scurry over for a visit.
  5. If you experience uncontrollable urges to shop and eat (and who doesn’t), just blame it all on menopause. You can shop and eat for less than $30 if you wander through the aisles at Costco and feast on all the free samples. Then buy a case of wine, a huge jar of chocolate covered peanuts, and a twelve-pound pie and then call your friends over for a party. To be prudent, don’t forget the year’s supply of toilet paper.
  6. Symptoms of menopause can make you forgetful and absent-minded. Write your kid’s names on their foreheads with a Magic Marker Pen so you don’t have to go through the irritation of memorizing their names every day.
  7. Menopause can make you magnificent! That’s baloney, but claim that as your mantra if it makes you feel better. Remember, this all will pass someday and then you’ll be too old to care anymore.

The main goals of surviving menopause are to stay alive and to sleep with both legs under the covers. If we can achieve these noble visions and avoid arrest, we’ll laugh all the way to bingo night at the Senior Center.

 

 

 

Adapted from the book Menopause Sucks by Joanne Kimes and Elaine Ambrose.

Published by Adams Media.

Filed Under: blog Tagged With: #hormones, #menopause, #Menopause Sucks, Adams Media, caregiver, estrogen, Humor, Joanne Kimes, midlife, parenting, survival, women

Rocking Babies in Rhythm with Heartbeats

March 18, 2018 By Elaine Ambrose

My daughter Emily recently celebrated a milestone birthday, and I am in awe of her splendid spirit. She inspired my story in the recent anthology published in an eBook titled A Cup of Love. Here is an excerpt.

Rocking Babies in Rhythm with Heartbeats

The nurse pushed my wheelchair to the viewing window of the intensive care unit so I could see my baby for the first time. I stared at the sleeping newborn and felt an indescribable ache for the baby I had never held. She had been in critical condition after a difficult two-day birth and was hurried away to ICU. After the delivery, I had been left alone wondering if all the birthing videos had been a lie.

One video had featured a smiling woman in full makeup and perfectly teased hair as she gave a slight grimace and then held a flawless baby. This untrue propaganda portrayed labor and delivery as a pleasant walk in the park. Unfortunately, my experience took a detour through the haunted woods and fell down a muddy gully. I had no opportunity or desire to apply makeup and appear cheerful.

After 20 hours of labor, I was trapped beneath an oxygen mask and heart monitor while the unborn baby had a fetal monitor attached to its head as a machine sent warning beeps every time the baby’s heartbeat reached 170. The baby was too far down in the birth canal for a cesarean section. Besides, it was Easter of 1978 and my doctor didn’t want to leave his family dinner to come to the hospital. A stranger stood at the end of the gurney studying my private parts and begging me to push harder. I intensely disliked him.

After 22 hours in labor, the doctor actually anchored his foot on the bed and used huge metal forceps to pull her from my body. At almost 10 pounds, she was too big to be born without the instrument. The bruises and indentations on her head from the grip of forceps remained visible for months. The nurse rushed her to the neonatal intensive care unit and her Apgar score was an alarming 3. I didn’t get to see or hold her for eight hours.

The following day, the nurse informed me Baby Emily would be released from ICU and would be brought me. I remember combing my hair so I would look presentable for our first official meeting, but she was asleep and couldn’t care less about my appearance. The nurse handed the blanketed bundle to me and the moment I felt my daughter secure in my arms, I wept.

I gently unfolded the blanket and peeked at her face and head. I was shocked and had to admit that she wasn’t the cutest newborn in the world. The forceps delivery had left her head swollen, bruised, and misshaped. The pictures of perfect babies were just another fabricated tale from the birth videos.

Back then, we didn’t have pregnancy tests or “gender reveal” parties. We didn’t know if the baby would be a girl or a boy, and we were delighted with either.  I never again saw the doctor who delivered her. The second day after the birth, a serious-looking pediatrician visited and said in hushed tones that difficult deliveries can result in birth defects and I should be prepared. I remember closing my eyes and begging, praying for help to meet the unknown challenges. A day later, I was completely at peace and in love with my baby.

“Just put her back in and let’s do it right,” I said, tired of all the intrusions. I had spent two days in labor and received more than 100 stitches to repair the damage of having a 10-pound baby. I wasn’t in any mood to endure a complicated discussion about the potential problems with my child. I thought of him only one more time: when my daughter graduated from college with scholastic honors.

Emily and I remained in the hospital for four days so we could heal. By the time my husband could take us home, her head had transformed into the acceptable round size but the bruises took a few weeks to disappear. I rocked her day and night, sang silly lullabies, and didn’t care about too many other distractions such as getting dressed, fixing meals, or doing laundry.

Fortunately, my mother came to help, and I was happy to rock and sing to my baby. I got up several times during the night to touch her and make sure she was still there. Having a child introduced a passionate kind of love that was new and forever. I would battle giants, enemies, and slobbering alien creatures to protect my children. The power of that kind of love scares me at times but remains a force almost 40 years later.

Emily became a precocious toddler as if to show the pediatrician that she was the smartest baby in the world. I read daily to her and by age two, she had memorized 20 stories and poems in the Childcraft Books, Volume 2. I was having so much fun being Mommy that my husband and I decided to try it again. In January of 1980, we created a most magnificent baby. He was born in October, and once again the delivery didn’t correspond to any of the birthing videos, not even the new and updated versions.

I should have suspected something was different when the buttons began to pop off of my maternity blouses. I was so huge, I couldn’t reach the table so I perched my dinner plate on my belly. At seven-months’ pregnant, I couldn’t hold my daughter in my lap. I couldn’t turn over in bed because my back hurt so much. Still, the mothering instinct carried me through the toughest times. I couldn’t wait to meet Baby Two.

On the due date of October 20, the baby decided to be born. The delivery was so intensely painful I blacked out with every contraction. The baby weighed 11 pounds and appeared ready for a steak dinner and a game of football. The nurse snatched him and took off to show the big baby to other nurses.

“Excuse me,” I meekly said. “I would like to hold my baby.”

I was a whipped puppy but could rally soon to become a fierce beast. What was the reason for my personal tradition of being forced to wait to hold my babies? We needed new videos to deal with this unpleasant dilemma.

Finally, my son Adam was placed in my arms. Again, my tears flowed freely and I thought my heart would burst. How can one mother’s heart include more than one child? Now I know it’s possible. I had room for both of them equally, and I loved them totally and unconditionally.

I blinked a few times, and thirty years flew past. Now Emily and Adam are grown, married, and have children of their own.

Science says the emotion of love comes from a chemical reaction in the brain. I think love spontaneously erupts from our heart when we rock our babies in harmonic rhythm with our two heartbeats. The feeling is more powerful than any other, and I’d like to order some more, in great quantities. I need to stock the pantry.

Now that my empty nest is filled with other priorities and distractions, I have time to reflect on what matters. If I could go back and choose favorite times in my life, they would include rocking my sweet babies and singing soft lullabies. As a young mother, I didn’t know what the future would bring, but I was fulfilled and grateful for the warm weight of my child upon my chest.

I am truly grateful to be a happy and loved wife, mother, mother-in-law, and grandmother. But of all the inspirational sensations I have known throughout the years, there is nothing more powerful than the feeling of love I experienced when I held and rocked my babies. If we could harness that force, we could move mountains, tame the winds, create truthful videos, eliminate calories, and end a few wars. Love wins, every time.

 

            

 

 

Filed Under: blog Tagged With: #grandchildren, birthdays, childbirth, family, generations, parenting, rocking, rocking babies

Footer

Awards

awards

Badges

badges from other sites

Awards

awards

©2022 Elaine Ambrose | Designed & Maintained by Technology-Therapist

 

Loading Comments...