Ummm...I guess it is spring break

The winter/spring season has been the busiest I can remember. It turns out that Spring Break is next week. THAT snuck up on me. I've got 3 kids who are so excited to be off for a week and I've got nothing planned. I briefly considered several mini-vacations, but we've had a lot of vacations lately and are planning a trip for May...so that's not in the cards (or checkbook).

I chased down hubby this morning and invited (forced) him to discuss a Spring Break Plan O' Action. We are now on the SBPO'A committee. We came up with a list of fairly low-cost items that we could do and plan on implementing one per day. Here's our options:

* matinee movie (Mars needs Moms? Okay for a 4 yr old?)
* Kid-friendly dinner (Rainforest Cafe?)
* get haircuts
* Arcade at Lincoln Square
* Rollerskating at Bellevue Skate King (take the 4 yr old?)
* Go visit Great Grandma
* Go to the dentist (is it possible to get an appt for all 3 kids on the same day?)
* Get a kid portrait taken at a picture studio

So, anyone got an other ideas? Swim lessons for Spunky Girl and the Big Guy continue this week, as does the Big Guy's preschool (they couldn't possibly have the same Spring Break. Of course not.) We'll just have to schedule our other outings around those. Maybe I can think of some other inside the house things to do that would be fun too, but I can already hear myself saying "No, you can't have any more screen time" and "Please put the video games away and find a book" a million times.

Who's got other ideas for me? Other sanity tips? We're not supposed to have great weather next week, so sending the kids outside to play won't work most days. Even if they do go outside, I have to watch that they don't grab their gaming devices on the way out.
Apparently they don't find a yard full of grass as inviting as I'd hoped they would. Sigh.

The Sweet Spot

My sister asked me today if I've given up blogging. I really haven't, but you sure wouldn't be able to tell that by looking at my recent blog activity. Hubby is watching the SeaChickens play, so I guess tonight is the night for my first blog post of 2011.

I found myself wondering the other day if I've hit a parenting sweet spot. I've always known that I'm not a "baby stage" parent. I just don't love the baby stage. I love the child, of course, and I love the new baby smell, but I don't love the spit up, I don't love the diapers, I don't love the back ache from carrying the kid in a car seat, I don't love the middle of the night crying, I don't love the nursing, I don't love giving them baths, I don't love being trapped by a sleeping child's schedule...and I could go on and on. It is amazing I had 3 lovely children given how much I don't love the baby stage.

I don't think the toddler stage is really my stage either. I don't really care for tantrums at the library, or the constant buckling and unbucking of car seats. It is cute when they learn to talk, but then go through that talking all the time phase where you constantly have to go "uhuh, yep, sure, uhuh, really?" I've been known to say "mommy seriously needs a break from all the talking".

So, when the kids got out of school for winter Holidays, I wasn't sure that 2 weeks of all the kids at home together was going to be tons of fun. But it was; it was tons of fun. We really had a good time. We went to the movies a couple of times (yea for $5 movies at Factoria), we went to Barnes and Noble a time or two, we went to the park to go scootering, we hung out together. I don't think I had noticed that the Big Guy was turning into a kid that could hang out, but it was sure noticeable that it was finally happening. No more "mom will stay behind with the Big Guy while Dad goes out to have fun with the older girls".

I remember my pediatrician warning me that the terrible twos for little boys runs about 1.5 years. Here we are...the Big Guy is 4 years old in 3 months...and we've gotten past it. I know everyone's experience is different. Some little boys don't have the tantrum-filled 2/3 year old behavior. But my little boy did and I was unprepared (although warned) for how much patience I would need. But now...SWEET SPOT!!!

Hopefully there is such a thing as a sweet spot and it isn't just a fairytale land in my head. Or, maybe even better would be that the Sweet Spot lasts for the rest of our lives. That's not too much to hope for right? Who doesn't love the constant drama of the teenage years?

Let's just capture this "sweet spot" in time with some pics:
Sweetness -- the leader of the pack

Spunky Girl -- the life of the party

The Big Guy -- the newcomer to the hang-out crew

A Child's Psyche

This morning, as I walked my girls down to the bus stop, my Spunky Girl said "I lie to myself".

"What do you mean?" said I
"sometimes I lie to myself so I don't get so hyper" replied she
"hyper about what?" further inquired I
"like going to the cabin" said she
"like what kind of a lie" said I, still a bit confused
"like there will be no snow at the cabin" said she
"Of course there is snow at the cabin" broke in her older sister (who thinks life is a big candy shop)
"Yep, there is snow there honey" said I
"I know" she said "but I tell myself there isn't any snow so I won't get too excited"

The whole conversation made me realize how much nature plays a strong part in who we are and less of that nurture stuff.
Spunky Girl doesn't have life experiences that teach her not to trust that good things are coming, and yet she still keeps herself in check from getting too excited about them.


Sweetness, her older sister who thinks that life is all candy candy candy, can't imagine a world where anything bad happens. "Of course life is going to be awesome" she thinks.


I think perhaps it is too early to tell how the Big Guy, who I think I might start calling Cave-man, will react to life. I think he expects life to lay itself at his feet "right now"! Anything else will just be unacceptable.

Maybe someday, a high priced therapist will conclude that Spunky Girl puts up walls around herself to protect herself because of some trauma she experienced in her young life...but I will know better. And come on, doesn't mom always know better?

The problem with being noise sensitive

I'm noise sensitive. Little noises irritate the heck out of me. I can hear people chewing from rooms away. Gum snapping? You gotta be kidding me. Clipping your nails? Sends me to the moon. Random tapping? Uh...NO.

So, where's the problem, right? I'm the mom. Maybe I've got to put up with some of hubby's noises, but I sure don't have to listen to kid noises. I just ask them to stop whatever noise is irritating me. But the problem is that I model the behavior that my kids adopt. I teach them, by my behavior, that they don't have to accept somebody making noises that irritate them. I teach them to say "Shhh...that's irritating me" everytime I say "Shhh...that's irritating me". And when you've got 4 people saying "Shhh...please stop making that noise", it turns out that EVERY noise is irritating to someone. Do we really have to live in silence? Is it not okay for a person to hum a little ditty if they feel like it? How do I tell the kids that they can't keep asking everyone to be quiet when I get to tell people to be quiet whenever I feel like it?

It's not that I believe that children should have all the rights that parents have, 'cause I don't. There are definitely times when I think a parent gets to tell a child to be quiet because they are being irritating. But I also don't think I want to be the kind of parent that says "do what I say, but don't think it is a nice way to behave to others".

But...I don't my kids going over to someone else's house and making annoying noises either. Somehow I have to find a way to differentiate legitimately annoying noises (that must be stopped at all cost) and normal annoying kids behavior (which I need to learn to live with) so my kids can actually have a life without being told to constantly "be quiet" by their siblings.

I need to say that to myself again. I need to learn to live with annoying kid noises without telling them to be quiet. No more falling to the floor with my hands over my ears because my kids are humming the theme song to iCarly.

Sigh.

This may be a work in progress.

A letter to my girls

Dear girls --
You've finally pushed me over the edge. You know how your dad has been saying that he is going to confiscate the clothes you leave out? And I haven't really been backing him up, preferring to lecture you a little bit and then help you put your clothes away? Well no more.

Today, little Miss Sydney, I found the shirt that I told you to change before school in my dirty laundry basket. It was there because you were too lazy to put it away, even after I was nice and went and got you a different shirt to wear to school. You didn't seem to care that I would have to sort it, wash it, dry it, fold it, and hound you to put it away because you put it in there...when you would have only had to put it away. Way more work for me, but essentially the same amount of work for you. Not cool.

So now we have this fun new system! If you leave clothes on the floor and I find them when I come in your room at bedtime, they are confiscated. If you leave clothes on the floor in the bathroom or living room or back deck (whichever weird place you've decided to change), they are confiscated. I keep them for a month, at which point you have to put them away anyway.

And little Miss Cheyenne...I heard you talking about stealing the clothes back out of the box. That would not be smart girl. You do not want to see the amount of chores you will have to do to buy those clothes back that you stole from me. You might as well choose to be a prisoner on the chain gang for Halloween, because that is what it would be like.

I'm glad we had this little talk.
Love, Mom

Consequated

School starts tomorrow, so today I made one last trip down to Grandma's house while I still had time for the 2.5 hour drive. We sat down to watch Dr. Phil together in the afternoon. I choked a little bit when Dr. Phil used the word (?) "consequated". As in "the girl needs to be consequated for her actions."

What bothers me, I think, is not that he's making up words. It is that he is making up words so he won't have to use other, perfectly good words. Words like "punished" or "disciplined". Really, are those such ugly words? Crime and punishment is a fact in adult life. Why are we so scared to use those with regard to children? If we don't teach them crime and punishment as children, they'll have a rude awakening when they become adults. That's my soapbox for today. Thank you.

I'm just not 100% sure

Tonight I asked Sweetness to help me with putting dinner on the table. I didn't give her an actual task to do, and apparently that gave her the wise idea to disappear before the actual chore-dispensing occurred. This ploy might have actually worked if she reappeared for dinner. But no. I got dinner on the table and started calling in the kids. The Big Guy sat down. Spunky Girl sat down. No Sweetness. I called outside for her. I called downstairs for her. I yelled up the stairs for her. Then I screamed up the stairs for her, using my hands like a megaphone around my mouth (classy, I know). Still no Sweetness.

So I started dinner without her. 5 minutes later, I'm fuming. I'm certain she heard me and is refusing to come to dinner. I start considering what her consequence will be. Should it be a minute of chores for every minute that she was late to dinner? More than that? 3 minutes for each minute she was late to represent the three of us that ate without her? Should she have to eat every bite of dinner (in our household, that makes the kids cry. I don't know why. I swear I'm not that bad of a cook.) Then I start to worry...what if she's not just too busy ignoring me to come to dinner...what if she's hurt somehow? What if she slipped in the bathroom and hit her head? What if she was actually playing in the backyard and was snatched? So I go looking for her again. I check outside and then I heard it...a little sound like someone is upstairs in my bathroom. I head up there and find my daughter listening to my ipod, watching herself dance and sing in the mirror.

"I'm so sorry" she cries "I didn't hear you call me". Yeah right. You scoot out when you are supposed to be helping put dinner on the table. You ignore my calls to find you. You sneak into my bathroom and turn on my ipod (which you are supposed to ask for first). And I am supposed to believe that it couldn't be your fault because you had a mysterious fit of deafness?

But somehow, I can't seem to punish her. What if she is telling the truth? What if her ear canals suddenly did close up and she didn't hear my screeching for her? I know it wasn't because she had the ipod up too loud because 1) I don't use earbuds, only speakers and 2)she had it quiet enough so I couldn't hear she had it on. So I really know that she could hear me, that she did hear me and just chose to act like she couldn't. And it really isn't the first time that I'm fairly certain that she chose to ignore me and said "but I really couldn't hear you".

And I think her behavior suggests that she heard me. She is acting all upset that I'm mad at her, but she's not acting mad. There is no indignant "you don't believe me" emotion, just a please-i'll-never-do-it-again-please-don't-punish-me kind of guilty response. And yet...I'm not 100% sure.

I'm 90% sure.

maybe 95%.

Shall I do a test? If there was another adult in the house, I'd go upstairs and turn the ipod on and have them yell up the stairs. I'm certain that I'd hear. Of course, sometimes hubby claims that he can't hear me...but I don't believe him either. And so I'm not sure...


but I think it is things like this that make my friends say I'm a parenting weanie.

P.S. I took pictures of all three kids with their fingers in their ears so Sweetness wouldn't figure out that I'm blogging about her. Is it me, or does she look the most like she's enjoying the experience?

Its been ages

It has been ages since I last posted. I think blogging feeds upon itself. The more I blog, the more I can think of things I want to write about. But here I find myself...sitting at my computer...with plenty of time to write...and no inspiration. Clearly I've been gone too long.

So, while I wait for inspiration to strike, I'll update you on my kids.


Sweetness turns 8 tomorrow. She is definitely working on a new phase of life. The "tweens" run from 8 - 12 years of age and I feel an eagerness in her to begin the phase. We allowed her to pierce her ears for her birthday. She assured me last year that EVERY OTHER CHILD IN THE UNIVERSE had their ears pierced. I wonder how many children she's met from distant planets. My guess is not many. I'm sure she would have said something about the encounter. She loves to talk and tell me about the things her friends have said. If I dare suggest that perhaps she shouldn't believe everything she hears at school, she is barely able to cover her obvious impression that her mom is so not "in the know". Despite the new glimpes of attitude, she is still a beautiful child in looks and in heart. She's become empathetic to how I can be pulled in a zillion directions at once and wants to help. If only that willingness to help wasn't followed by a "Mom, how do I...?"

Spunky Girl is 6 now. She has the cutest freckles in the whole wide world and they rest below her stunning hazel eyes. Sometimes I just stare at her in wonder, but usually I'm too busy trying to corral her to just stare. =) She is still the snuggliest thing ever. She loves to come into my bed in the morning and sleep together for the last half hour; she isn't content unless both of my arms are wrapped around her (which of course means that one of my arms is likely losing all blood flow). She is always giggling about something, and usually something inappropriate. It is hard not to encourage her, though, when she's so darn impish. Hubby and I just cross our fingers and hope that she doesn't ascribe whatever objectional things she's saying to us. Then we can pass it off with a "where do kids these days hear this stuff?".

The Big Guy is 3. He's my little man, my cry-baby, my sweet son, and my joy. Three goods to one bad...that's not too horrible, right? We're trying to potty train him right now. It is a big ole pain in the butt. He's stubborn like a mule (whoops, 3 goods to 2 bad) and so it is very hard not to turn potty training into a power struggle. It does melt my heart when he says "just like a big boy, right?". Yeah buddy, just like a big boy. He stopped taking naps about 5 months ago, but I really need a few quiet minutes a day so I still put him down for a half hour. He kicks the wall the entire time, just so I'm clear that he's waiting for me to come get him. I suppose that is smart, though, because I suspect if he was quiet I would be tempted to leave him up there a little longer. There's nothing like one of his hugs and his whisper "I really love you mommy". It definitely makes up for him coloring on my sofa with green marker, or hiding the drinking cups in the toilet, or getting into my lipstick.


I sent my girls off to overnight Girl Scout camp at the end of June. I can get stressed by all the people needing my attention at once, so I was excited for them to have an adventure and for me to have some quiet(er) time with the Big Guy. It turns out I missed them like crazy. It was so quiet in the house that even the Big Guy whispered when he talked to me...and I could hear him just fine. I complain about not having a nanosecond to myself but then it was a huge culture shock to be down to one child. I had to keep myself busy to not think about how uneasy I felt about them being gone. There is an irony there...that I crave alone time and then have to keep busy during my (sorta) alone time till my girls came back. I guess the lesson is just to find the treasured moments in every day.

I'll leave you with one last picture of my kiddos, taken after picking strawberries. Note that, as always, Spunky Girl just has to be a little different and holds her bag of strawberrries on her head.

Like an arrow through my heart

Every week my Sweetness brings home her "traveling journal". It is a second grade class assignment. Every Friday during the school day she will write to me in the journal and then she brings it home. Over the weekend, I write back to her and she can read it during journaling time the next week.

This was her entry from Friday:


For those of you who might not be able to see the picture, it says:
"Dear Mom and Dad, yesterday was (career) project presentations. Alot of parents (were) there but you mommy, you forgot. I got mad but its okay."

I think the grammar is heartbreakingly sad and funny at the same time. "but you mommy, you forgot". Can't you just feel the dramatic pause? The accusatory tone? The finger wagging? Also note how the journal starting out being to "mom and dad", but it is clear that it becomes all about the bad mommy.

I did forget to attend her career presentation. I had it on my calendar and just forgot. I felt horrible. I figured it out by myself later in the day and ran upstairs to Sweetness' room to tell her I was sorry. I said "I'm so sorry I forgot to go to your classroom today" and she said "I know you forgot; that's why I was mad when I got home.". Hmmm....didn't really notice she was mad when she got home. I guess that is strike two on the "in touch with your daughter's world" scoreboard.

She decided that I needed to do a chore, just like I make her do when she forgets something she is supposed to do. I'm not entirely sure that is a precedent I want to start, but I felt pretty guilty so I agreed to it. She wrote "book me a playdate" on our chore whiteboard. I think I got off easy...

Hey, I'm back to blogging

Wow...time to blog. Could it be? Or perhaps I am dreaming. Lately I've been bemoaning my inability to get anything done, blaming that on the zero seconds of time that I spend alone, uninterrupted, able to concentrate. However, there have been spurts of activity followed by task completions. Really...like check out my new white board:

I meant to install it myself, but hubby stood back watching me read the installation instructions to myself (aloud, of course) and decided it would be better for everyone (including the wall) if he helped out a little. I love my white board. It is part of my Self Sufficiency Initiative, Part II, which is set to unleash when school gets out. Part I has already commenced. I've been working with (on) the girls and "helping" them see all the things that they are capable of doing...instead of asking me for help. There have been quite a few tantrums when they realized that mom didn't intend to find their socks, or help them get their swimsuits on, or even make their breakfast. The white board is already coming in handy as a place for me to record all the chores they owe me when they fail to handle something on their own and insist on my help. Self Sufficiency Initiative Part II will involve things like morning chores and other things that must be completed before they have the freedom to go play. I remember HATING listening to my mom rattle off my daily chores, so I'm sure looking up their chore list on a white board will be much better. =)

Self Sufficiency Initiative Part II also includes potty training for the Big Guy. As soon as school gets out, that is my major focus. Some wise person suggested to me yesterday that I wouldn't dread the kids getting out of school so much if I hadn't planned so many "initiatives" to start the next day. LOL There may be something to that.

Okay, I'm off to start my next blog post. I've had 3 or 4 rolling around my head lately and I don't want my posting tally to be "1" for May.

The Monkey on my Back

I haven't got enough time. I know it is an excuse, but it feels real. It feels like life moves at the speed of light and the only chance I have of keeping up is by operating on a dead-run, doing everything myself. Asking someone else to help out or do something themselves, regardless of whether that is the kids or hubby, slows down my progress.

This is a problem, though, because I can see that it is unsustainable. Not only is my burnout entirely predictable, but it isn't in anyone's best interest. My kids will not learn to be self-suficient, capeable people by me doing everything for them. They will not learn to use their brains to solve their own issues, they will not learn time management, they will not learn how the world really works. My hubby will not feel like a respected co-parent if I display to him through my actions that I can do everything better and faster than him.

For example, I help Sweetness (my 7 year old) pick out her clothes every morning, monitor her progress as she gets ready for school, and get her lunch and her backpack packed and ready for school. If I try to have her get dressed entirely on her own, without my assistance, she'll come down in something entirely inappropriate for the day (like a dress on gym day) or she'll be up in her room for 20 minutes trying to figure out what to wear and will eventually come down to me saying "I can't find my...". At that point, we're running late and I have to rush through whatever task I'm working on and go up and pick out an outfit anyway (or continue to let her do it herself, but resign myself to driving her to school because she missed the bus). I usually decide that it is just easier to pick out the outfit and have it lying on her bed when she goes up to get dressed. But the result is that I have a 2nd grader who doesn't really know how to quickly get dressed. I'm serious. It took her several MINUTES to inside out a pair of jeans. It was pure torture watching her. And that was just one step of the getting ready process...she still had to find a shirt, socks, etc.

Example #2: Spunky Girl (age 5) wanted breakfast when I was trying to get Sweetness to dress independently, so I asked her to get her own cereal. She was able to get the box down from the pantry, but managed to spill it all over the floor trying to pour the cereal into the bowl. It cost me more time to help her get that fixed than it would have to just pour her cereal myself. But I still have to let her do things herself because otherwise she'll never get any better at it.

Example #3: It is time to potty train the Big Guy...but the thought of adding potty training accidents and battle-of-wills contests into my already stressful days makes me want to crawl into a corner and cry. The thought of no more diaper changes should make that worth it, but to me the thought of adding more work into my exhausting days is worse than the thought of continuing diaper changes. But it is in his best interest to start potty training so I gotta find the personal strength to get started.

So I'm starting to work on this a little bit now with the thought of really ramping it up during the summer. Right now we are starting the conversation about personal responsibilities and I'm mentally preparing myself for things taking longer and requiring more work from me...for a bit. This summer the girls are going to get a crash course in self-sufficiency. They'll be figuring out what responsibilities they need to complete (like getting dressed, personal hygeine, chores) before they can enjoy fun summer time activities. And the Big Guy? Well... one thing at a time.

***I borrowed the non-Lisa photos from fotosearch...all royalty free of course!

Are moms a safe choice?

Yesterday we held our usual Daisy Girl Scout troop meeting. The topic was "courageous and strong" and we used the time to talk about a variety of scary situations the girls could find themselves in and what is the right thing to do. We talked about getting lost in the woods. We talked about stranger danger. We talked about fire safety. My co-leader led the meeting, so she was the one deciding what advice to give the girls about all these situations.

Her advice about what to do if you get lost in a mall/grocery store is stuck in my head. She advised the girls to go to 1) a cashier or someone who works at the store or 2) a mom with kids and tell them you are lost. It was the "find a mom with kids" part that is keeping my brain cells occupied. Are we suggesting that moms with kids are less likely to be child abductors or pedophiles? I don't know...maybe that's true. There has to be stats on that somewhere. She didn't say "a dad with kids" so maybe we think that women are safer than men. But then I started to think about "finding a person that works there" and I guess they could be a child abductor/pedophile too. But we have to pick someone for the kids to go to. Isn't a mom with kids a good choice? Maybe we assume that a mom with kids has enough trouble...uh...children...of her own that she doesn't need to take anyone elses. No, I know what she means. She means that we all know how moms feel about their kids and any of us would be glad to help another mother/child out. We choose to trust each other.

But it still feels a little biased.

It was essentially the same topic that Dear Prudence dealt with in her post this morning. Should a Dad take a Daughter into the womens or mens restroom? Prudence felt like the dad shouldn't go into the women's restroom to help his daughter and that the daughter probably didn't need to see men standing at the urinals...so the best option is to find a family restroom or to have another mom watch his daughter in the restroom. Again, are mom's really more trustworthy than other women?

I don't know if it is biased...and when I really thought about it...I'm not sure that I care. I certainly didn't change the advice for my kids. I do want them to find a mom (or dad) with kids if they get lost and ask for help. Whaddya think?

Boy meets World

I usually let Sweetness zone to 15 minutes of TV in the mornings while I grab a cup of coffee and try to turn into a useful human being. Today I noticed that old episodes of Boy Meets World was on one of the cable channels.

I remember loving Boy Meets World. I think about the current kid shows...iCarly, Big Time Rush, Zach and Cody...and the difference is stunning. I think the biggest difference that stands out to me is that the main character in Boy Meets World had loving, stable parents. iCarly has a dad out there somewhere, but she lives with her older brother (a bit of a dorky rebel who quit law school to be a sculpter, but hasn't managed to fess up to his father about that yet). Big Time Rush is about 4 teenage boys who move to Hollywood to become music stars. Only one of the 4 boys has a mother around. The rest of the boys apparently left their mothers behind in the midwest somewhere. Zach and Cody live in a hotel (or a cruise ship). Enough said, right?

See any parents or adults? Nope.

And the adults are hiding...

What's the deal with that? One of the main themes of Boy Meets World was the independence struggle that teens have with their parents. The sneaking out. The dealing with hard situations with their friends and needing adult guidance. The crushes. In the current kid television shows, there is no STRUGGLE for independence...the kids ARE independent. There are no "lets keep the door to the bedroom open while you study" scenes, because it is totally okay for the kids to date whomever they like...however they like...at any age. There is no parent around to say anything about it. It goes without saying that the kids are thrown into situations in those shows that no loving parent would stand back and observe from the sidelines. And really, that seems to be the point of all the shows: that the characters peer groups are their advisors and their families. That is who they are shown to interact with and that is who is important to them.

Am I making a big deal about nothing? Maybe. Perhaps Boy Meets World had its own 80's version of counterinfluence that I'm missing because I am a product of that generation. But I think that is exactly why this concerns me. Because I don't want my kids to grow up thinking it is normal for their friends to be their advisor and their parents to sit back and let them be independent when they are teenagers. I want to be there to provide boundaries...to see dangers before they see them and be willing to make unpopular choices to keep them safe. I get that the teen years is a time of separation from one's parents as they prepare to be on their own as adults...but that is supposed to be a process that runs throughout their teen years, right? Not as soon as they hit 14. It is supposed to be a little bit of a push/pull situation as both the parents and the teens learn what they can handle and what they can't.

Sigh. Okay, that's my rant for today. Stay tuned till next week when I blog about the dangers lurking in breakfast cereal commercials... (just kidding)

And everything returns to normal...and its okay

When I got back from vacation, my kids looked so beautiful. The Big Guy showered me with kisses and kept saying "I missed you on your vacation mommy". Spunky Girl followed me around a bit (actually pulled a chair into the bathroom when I needed to use the commode), and Sweetness wanted to tell me all about what she did while I was gone. They all looked so tall, too!

The first day, I experienced a sense of lightness in my parenting. Sure, I still had to deal with some sibling arguing, but it didn't irk me down deep. Sure, the kids were as noisy as a semi truck in a tunnel, but I didn't seem to mind. Sure, the Big Guy refused to take his nap, but I kinda wanted to play with him anyway. During dinner, Spunky girl knocked her drink over during dinner and I just grabbed a towel and cleaned it up. I didn't feel anything about that. Then she knocked her second drink over, actually into her plate this time, so I got her a second plate of food. And I didn't have any negative feelings about that. That's when I knew I was in the honeymoon period following my vacation. There is no other way to explain my lack of irritation when 2 drinks were spilled by the same child within 5 minutes.

Today (Sunday) didn't have that same lightness. Hubby was at the firehouse today, so I had the kids on my own. Getting the family ready for church this morning had its trying moments. When I tried to get myself ready for the day, the kids kept busting in and wanting me to do things for them. I felt frustration. I didn't want to be irritated at them...I just wanted them to do what I had asked them to while I finished getting my teeth brushed. And then began the correcting and repeating. "Let's get our shoes on" "Who has their shoes on?" "Please stop crying...I'll help find your shoe" "No, you can't wear crocs" "Could you please help your brother with his shoes?" "Hey, let her help. I told her to help." "No, I'll do it...just get in the car." "Just stop crying"

Sigh. I don't want it to go like that, but somehow I feel powerless to keep it from going like that. And then I feel bad about my inability to parent in such a way that avoids those moments, and that makes me angry at them too (because, even though I don't want to admit it, it is easier to be annoyed at them to admit that I feel powerless to stop the scenario from playing out).

And then suddenly, it hits me that the honeymoon period is over and from now on spilled milk is going to be just as annoying as it was before I went on vacation. I'm back to growling "Can you just give me a minute? I'm right in the middle of something" to the endless requests. And I so badly want to be the parent in the honeymoon period. The parent who can parent without so much negative emotion bubbling in my soul. The person who can correct bad behavior and encourage good behavior without having to choke down what I ought not to say.

And then I realize...that is it. No more wishing otherwise. I am going to be the parent who has to battle her irritation, temper, resentment, pride and selfishness because that is how God is making me into a better person. Only when I am faced with the reality that I am either going to battle against my limitations or I am going to fail to be the parent those beautiful children deserve do I truly go to battle against my faults. It simply isn't okay to say "well, that's just who I am" when my children deserve better. They deserve the best. God gave me those kids to raise and they will get the best mother I can make myself be.

*******
I wrote this post and then set it aside for 2 days. That is unusual for me, but I didn't want to throw something out there that made me sound like a bad mom or that I'm always barking at my children. But it is an honest look at what I struggle with, what I wish for, and an acceptance that it is okay. And maybe admitting it to myself and all of you will make it easier to keep plowing ahead with a positive attitude. Gosh that sounded all Pollyanna...

P.S. Who uses the word "commode"?

Sorry we don't eat your food

Last night I made a fancier dinner than usual. Which means that the kids hated it a bit more than usual. Which is hard because they usually hate dinner, so to hate it more means they really, really hated dinner.

I made a dish called Chicken in Puff Pastry. It was cubed chicken mixed with cream cheese, watercress, green onions, and butter wrapped in a pastry crust. My enthusiasm was good when I started making dinner, but my heart had sunk long before I finished the dish. I just knew they were going to hate it. While all the ingredients were things they like (well, maybe except the watercress and onions), they weren't going to appreciate them all mixed together. Unless the chicken is chunked, breaded, and then cooked, I'm unlikely to get a positive reception.

Usually I don't let it bother me too much. Usually I make them eat a bite or two and then they can get down. But last night it bothered me. I pouted. I glared. I complained. "Why can't you just try it? Not just a nibble of the crust, but actually take a bite out of the center and see if you like it?" "You are hurting my feelings" I said. "How would you like it if you worked for an hour on something and I couldn't find one nice thing to say about it?" I was irked.

Hubby invited to me to take a little personal time and soak in the tub. It was a generous gesture that benefitted the whole family, I think. While I was in the tub soaking (& sulking), he came in and showed me what the kids had been doing.

How can I be mad when they make me a big poster that says "Sorry we don't eat your food"? Sure...they aren't suggesting that they are going to make any changes, but at least they care that I feel bad, right?

P.S. I thought maybe that scribble on the right was their representation of my dinner, but they assured me it was just Cade's contribution to the poster.

New Readers & No Talking

Picked up an official new reader yesterday, according to Blogger.com. I do love official readers. I know many of you read me on Facebook, but you are part of the unknown masses unless you happen to leave a comment. I feel like I can claim someone who identifies themselves as my follower on Blogger.com...like I have a right to think of them as my audience...even if they never read what I write again.

So I had the pleasure of seeing my mother-in-law today and we were talking about the differences in men & women. She was saying that she had read a book on how important it was for men and boys to have time by themselves...cave time...time when they aren't connecting to other people. The book she read said that is starts about 2 years old for boys. It made me think of three things. First, boy am I glad that hubby has his time at the firehouse. I think it fulfills some of that cave time for him because the guys there can all decompress together and not talk if that suits them. Of course, having a talkative person on shift (I wouldn't DARE to suggest the gender of that person) with them would screw that up...but generally speaking it is a guy-friendly environment. It is nice that he comes home glad to see me and I eagerly await his homecoming too.

I guess that leads to my second point. I need a little bit of that downtime too. I feel like I spend all day being talked to. Requests fly in more often that any one person can possibly comply. I am the solution to every boo-boo, every argument that they can't work out, every homework conundrum, every "did you know" or "guess what I heard". Sometimes by 8 pm, I don't want to talk to anyone anymore. And two or three nights a week, when I get the kids to bed, I have 2 hours of no-talking to look forward to. Hubby is at the firehouse, I don't answer the phone, and I just unwind. I wouldn't want it silent every night, but I need it sometimes too.

And so my third point. Hmmm...I seem to have forgotten it. Was it something about the Big Guy talking too much? Sweetness wanting to converse like an adult? I can't remember. I'd better get my butt in gear and get Sweetness out the door toward the bus stop, so I guess you'll all live without my elusive third point. Happy Friday people!

That Neighborhood Boy

Today Sweetness came home from school and she and I were in the kitchen chatting while she ate her after school snack. I heard the front door open and someone making noise by the front hall closet. I assumed it was my husband, since he was out on a hardware store run...but it was not. It was the neighborhood boy. He let HIMSELF in my house and deposited his shoes and backpack by my hall closet. He then came around the corner, prepared to hang out a bit.

Me: "Um...Cole...did you forget to knock before coming into my house?"

Cole: "Huh?"

Me: "You have to knock. You don't live here."

Cole: "But my mom didn't come to the bus stop."

Me: "It's okay. We'll give her a call, but you still have to knock."

This kid...he drives me crazy. Actually, I don't think he drives me crazy. I think his parents drive me crazy. I don't want to be judgemental about their parenting (after all, nobody wants the spotlight on their own parenting, right?) but Cole is NOT getting the life instructions I think he needs.

It isn't that uncommon for me to invite Cole into the house. He shares the same busstop as my girls and sometimes his mom doesn't get to the busstop in time (again, let the parent who has never had that problem throw the first stone). I either walk him home or let him come in and wait for his mom. As long as I don't feel like the mom is taking advantage of this, I'm cool with that. But once he gets into my house, he doesn't have great manners or obedience. He usually wants a snack, but is frustrated when my snacks aren't what he wants. If my big guy is taking his nap, I usually ask that Cole stay away from the upstairs bedrooms...but if I turn my back I know he'll sneak up there. That annoys me.

I know Cole's parents have their hands full with him. I also know that they do try to hold him responsible for his behavior, but I find myself judging their parenting. When Cole wants candy for a snack, I think to myself "who lets a behaviorally-challenged kid eat junk food?". When Cole lets himself into my house, I think "why haven't they taught him to knock first?"

I really want my house to be a place where kids feel welcome. I have this image in my head of my kids as teenagers wanting to come hang out in our basement with their friends instead of visiting the the pot-smoking hangout. In order to create that reality, I think I have to make our home a place where my kids feel like their friends are welcome...even if those friends don't have the best manners, language, or habits. The trick for me, I think, is clearly and kindly letting their friends know what is acceptable in our house and what is not. I guess Cole gives me an opportunity to practice that skill...

The Christmas Pageant

I got this in an email from a friend of mine. I loved it!!! Hope you do too.


THE CHRISTMAS PAGEANT
My husband and I had been happily
married (most of the time)
for five years
but hadn't been blessed with a baby.

I decided to do some serious
praying and promised God
that if he would give us a child,
I would be a perfect mother,
love it with all my heart
and raise it with His word
as my guide.

God answered my prayers
and blessed us with a son.

The next year God blessed us
with another son.

The following year,
He blessed us with
yet another son.

The year after that we
were blessed with a daughter.

My husband thought we'd
been blessed right into poverty.
We now had four children,
and the oldest was only
four years old.

I learned never to ask God
for anything unless I meant it
As a minister once told me,
"If you pray for rain,
make sure you carry an umbrella."

I began reading a few verses
of the Bible to the children
each day as they lay in their cribs..

I was off to a good start.
God had entrusted me
with four children and
I didn't want to disappoint Him.

I tried to be patient the day
the children smashed
two dozen eggs on
the kitchen floor searching
for baby chicks.

I tried to be understanding...
when they started a hotel for
homeless frogs in the spare bedroom, although it took me nearly two hours
to catch all twenty - three frogs.

When my daughter poured
ketchup all over herself and
rolled up in a blanket to see
how it felt to be a hot dog,
I tried to see the humor
rather than the mess..

In spite of changing over
twenty - five thousand diapers,
never eating a hot meal
and never sleeping for more
than thirty minutes at a time,
I still thank God daily for my children.

While I couldn't keep my promise
to be a perfect mother -
I didn't even come close...
I did keep my promise
to raise them in the Word of God.

I knew I was missing the mark
just a little when I told
my daughter we were going
to church to worship God,
and she wanted to bring
a bar of soap along to
"wash up" Jesus, too.

Something was lost
in the translation when
I explained that
God gave us everlasting life,
and my son thought it was
generous of God to give
us his "last wife."

My proudest moment came
during the children's
Christmas pageant.

My daughter was playing Mary,
two of my sons were shepherds
and my youngest son was a wise man.
This was their moment to shine.

My five - year - old shepherd
had practiced his line,
"We found the babe wrapped
in swaddling clothes."

But he was nervous and said,
"The baby was wrapped
in wrinkled clothes."

My four - year - old "Mary" said,
"That's not 'wrinkled clothes,' silly.
That's dirty, rotten clothes."

A wrestling match broke out
between Mary and the shepherd
and was stopped by an angel,
who bent her halo and lost
her left wing.

I slouched a little lower
in my seat when Mary
dropped the doll representing
Baby Jesus, and it bounced
down the aisle crying,
"Mama - mama."

Mary grabbed the doll,
wrapped it back up
and held it tightly as
the wise men arrived.

My other son stepped forward
wearing a bathrobe
and a paper crown,
knelt at the manger
and announced,
"We are the three wise men,
and we are bringing gifts
of gold,
common sense
and fur."

The congregation
dissolved into laughter,
and the pageant
got a standing ovation.

"I've never enjoyed a Christmas
program as much as this one,"
laughed the pastor,
wiping tears from his eyes

"For the rest of my life,
I'll never hear the
Christmas story without
thinking of
gold,
common sense
and fur."

"My children are my pride
and my joy and my greatest
blessing," I said as I dug
through my purse for an aspirin.


Jesus had no servants,
yet they called Him Master.

Had no degree,
yet they called Him Teacher .

Had no medicines,
yet they called Him Healer.

Had no army,
yet kings feared Him.

He won no military battles,
yet He conquered the world.

He committed no crime,
yet they crucified Him..

He was buried in a tomb,
yet He lives today.

Feel honored
to serve such a Leader
who loves us.


GOD BLESS YOU ALL!

Be Angry...but don't act angry

This is my challenge lately. Be angry, but don't respond in anger. I DO get angry when my kids misbehave. I do get angry at the constant sibling rivalry. I do get angry when the Big Guy throws a tantrum. I can try to claim that I don't...I can even try to convince myself that I'm not angry...but I'm still angry. The trick is to not show them that I'm angry.

I love John Rosemond's book Six Point Plan for Raising Happy Healthy Children. It is a book that comes from a parenting era long past , but it resonates with my soul. Maybe that is because he talks about a parenting style that produces happy parents. He freely admits that parents ought to be angry when the kids act up. He argues that you should choose that moment, when you are angry, as the right moment for doing something about their acting up...and not to ignore it and pretend that they aren't making you mad. To ignore your anger turns it into rage, and in rage you make truly bad parenting decisions.

I know that the Big Guy responds better when I can calmly carry him to his room during a tantrum and drop him off. He doesn't respond to trying to reason with him, he doesn't respond to yelling back at him and he doesn't respond to ignoring him (oooohhh...that makes him MAD).

Sometimes I forget that I know this mantra (say it with me: Be Angry, don't Act Angry) and get caught up in the feeling that my girls should know how mad I am and then they might feel a stronger impetus to change their behavior. But I know that they will feel more respected if I can respond to them firmly & calmly, and that respect will help them to act positively.

Today my two girls have been fighting something awful. We already had several "discussions" about it when I told Sweetness that I was going to give her one warning to try harder to solve whatever they were fighting over and if they didn't make an effort, whatever they were fighting about was going to be taken away. It was only a half hour later when they were fighting over a stupid plastic apple. It happened as we were driving in the car, bringing my mother-in-law Jan back from the airport. There was no effort made to reconcile after my warning, so I told Sweetness to hand me the toy. That blessed girl actually chucked it at my head. Because Jan was in the car, my ever-so-sweet controlled self told my daughter that there would be consequences later and declined to deal with it right then. Had my mother-in-law not been in the car, I'm sure I would have lost my cool and discussed it with anger. After we dropped off Jan, I told Sweetness what her punishment would be and she accepted it without complaint and even apologized for throwing it at me. Somehow I don't think that would have happened if I had lit into her in the heat of my anger.

I wish someone would take a picture of me when I am angry and have lost my cool and am yelling about something. I have a feeling I would be horrified by how I look and perhaps I could keep that image in my head to remind me of who I don't want to be. Not that I want any of you chasing me around with a camera...

Kidde Post

How did I end up here? Suddenly I am den mother to 9 dogs. At first, the Big Guy had one favorite dog, "Pink Poodle". Pink Poodle belonged to his sister Sweetness, but he absconded with it and decided it was his own. Daddy didn't like his Big Guy carrying around a pink-anything, so "Nopo" a dalmation arrived on the scene. "Blue doggie" used to stay in his crib (a shower present from Barb Bass), but later became part of the dog posse that the Big Guy carries around. As his sisters acquired new webkinz dogs, they became part of the Big Guy's collection. It wouldn't be so bad if the doggie collection just stayed in one place, but the Big Guy insists on carrying them around. When we get up from naptime, all the doggies have to come downstairs with us. When we go down for bedtime, woe is the mother that is missing a dog.

I've noticed a dog missing before and tried to fool him, saying the dog's name as if he was already in the crib...but the Big Guy always catches me. "But I don't see my puppy" he says. I've tried telling him that he has plenty of doggies and he doesn't need me to go find the missing pup, but he just cries like his heart is breaking. "I need my Nopo, mommy". It is hard to stand there and say "no" when you know you can just go downstairs and find the stupid dog.



Doggies: Sparky (in his arms), Nopo, Bulldog, Scruffy, Gray doggie, Cheetoe, Puppy, Blue Doggie. (Pink Poodle is missing).

Oh...and how did the Big Boy bed experiment go? We're still working on that. He slept in there for 2 naps, although slept probably isn't an accurate word. He did make it through one nighttime, but last night he wanted back into his crib. On the upside, all my kids think it is great fun to hang out in the Big Guy's big boy bed. All the kids playing nicely in one room is good for mommy!


Okay, one last piece of business. I think the new Facebook layout means my blog gets read less...or it least it seems that way based on the comments I get back. For just this one blog, will you put your initials into the comment field (or a comment would work fine too), just so I know you've read my blog. I promise I'll only make you go through this once. Thanks. I appreciate it!