Arghhh ... I love my kids, I love my kids, I love my kids.
This was what I kept saying in my head as I rode into work this morning. It is not that I need to tell myself that I love my kids to make it so, it is just that some days are harder than others when it comes to parenting them.
I often find myself saying the same things over and over and over again, and I'm not sure if it is that they aren't listening or that they just don't care. Either way it is not good for my sanity and even my hubby has noticed lately that I seem to be losing my mind ... he actually told me this morning that the last couple of weeks have been worrisome to him because it has been understood for the duration of our 14 years together that he was in charge of the mind-losing department and I was the one who presided over balance and calm.
One would think that having someone you love tell you that you have a history of being balanced and calm would make you smile and swell with pride ... not me, this revelation sent me into a blubbering puddle of tears praying to God that my sanity would return so I could reclaim my post as the balanced one.
Last night I was talking to my mom about this and I said that the worst part about parenting challenges, especially when you are at work all day, is that you spend your whole day missing your kids like crazy and then when you finally get them all to yourself the mayhem begins. It makes my heart sick to think that they may wonder if all I do is yell.
In a perfect world kids would figure it out that if they if they listened all the time they would NEVER get in trouble ... isn't that an attractive option?!
These are the things that have sent me over the edge recently (please feel free to comment and tell me to settle the heck down) ...
Trials and tribulations of a little dude ...
My little dude is the sweetest little boy when it comes to most things, he is thoughtful, considerate, gentle, protective, and cautious (unless there is something where speed is involved). He lets the dog out and opens the car door for me every morning and he goes to bed when we ask him to ... for the most part he is quite delightful. The "dark side" to the little dude is that lately he needs to be doing something awesome and exciting at all times or he gets totally miserable.
For example, this past weekend we bought both of the kids a Nintendo DS - it seemed a little extravagant at first but it was a reward for being good (see list preceding "dark side"), and there was a bit of strategy involved as we are about to embark on a summer holiday that will involve A LOT of driving - so anyway, the little dude absolutely loved it (as did monkey girl) and the best part was that it was a total surprise. Life was good ... a new DS, a ball hockey tournament and a party with friends all in one weekend, woo hoo!
We thought that letting him buy his game on Sunday (with the $ that he had made Saturday helping his uncle) would be a great opportunity to fill the final day of the weekend with something exciting. So on Sunday afternoon, a very tired little dude became frustrated with his new game because he thought that I was winning (we were playing Super Mario Brothers and each of us was one brother) and he got completely miserable! Now I know that he was just frustrated because he was trying to learn something new, coupled with the fact that he is intensely competitive (which admittedly is a trait he got from his mother) - but the horrible mood that it sent him into was absolutely ridiculous. Finally we just had to have him put the game away and continue his sulking in silence.
I realize that I could have let it go, but it really irked me that after all the great things that he had experienced that weekend he was choosing to end it on such a bad note. So I ranted and raved about how lucky he was to have so much when there were others who had so little and told him that he needed to just turn his frown upsidedown (yes, I really said that) and be pleasant.
The result: he cried and apologized and I felt like the wicked witch of the southwest (we live in the southwest) for losing it. He is only six afterall, and we were all tired from a busy couple of days.
After this rollercoaster of emotion on Sunday, I promised to start fresh on Monday and then after dinner came and it was like history repeating itself.
Fun, fun, fun .... BANG - miserable kid.
I don't even know what happened. We had ridden our bikes, looked at puppies at the pet store, had ice cream for dessert ... it seemed as though we were on track for a happy ending to the day and then there were tears at bedtime (enhanced by the exact same conversation that we had had the day before ... ARGHHHH!!!!)
So today we have started fresh again and I have vowed to not raise my voice to the kids all day ... even if it requires me to go out and sit in my truck and scream just to get it out of my system.
Wish me luck.
Stubborn Monkey
Now monkey girl is also a wonderful child. She is bright and funny, she is mischievous yet sweet, she dances to whatever is on the radio and she knows when you need a hug. A great kid to say the least .... until bedtime that is.
Putting monkey girl to bed is a task like no other. Every night we read stories, give kisses and hugs and put the kids to bed at about 9:00 (this is their summer bedtime, 8:30 in the school year). They have to be up early so we really try to keep to the schedule during the week. However, monkey girl has a completely different agenda. She does not want to miss anything and has taken it upon herself to stay up as late as she possibly can every single night. Even when you think that she ought to be exhausted, she will pull out the special reserves and you can hear her playing in her room until at least 10:00. I always said that as long as she was just playing quietly it was not the end of the world, at least she was in her room. However the newest addition to her bedtime act is that she cries, she cries for: hugs, pee breaks, snacks, juice (no!!!), fear of bees and monsters and a variety of other things that I am too exhausted to list.
Two nights ago I went into her room over a dozen times before finally losing my mind!
If we close the door, she opens it. If we go downstairs to get away from the crying, she stands at the top of the stairs and bellows, if we yell, she yells louder ... it really is a frustrating problem because there is no apparent solution that does not involve sleeping with her.
Last night I finally just laid down with her until she started dozing off because I could NOT bear the thought of spending anymore energy running back and forth between the livingroom and her bedroom ... at 10:30!!!
Then magically overnight she becomes a pleasant little snugglebug again and we start each new day with hopes of a happy ending at bedtime.
The thing is ...
Usually there is some balance where behaviour issues are concerned, and I am okay when dealing with one disaster at a time, but when tag-teamed with separate issues I am finding myself to be less solid and am seriously considering removing the word multi-tasker from my resume. I just want my kids to know that I love them, and behave so that I can show them more often instead of yelling and banging my head against the wall.
I know that there will be bigger issues ahead (ie: adolesence) and I will look back and wonder why I thought this part was so hard ... but for now this is where I am, frustrated and in love ... it's like high school all over again.
All I can say for sure is that it is a good time to be going on holidays ... I think we all need a good dose of fun family time to put things into perspective.
I love my kids.
Watch for another post the week of August 11th ... I am sure that I will have some good stories after 15 nights of family fun in the trailer!!! :o)
July 22, 2008
July 18, 2008
Puddles
Let me start with a little background information ...
My little monkey girl has been known to occasionally wet the bed. She has been potty trained for going on 8 months now and, though she is a certified potty-star during the day, sometimes her love of juice catches up with her at night. A few months ago I was discussing this with a colleague of mine at work who has children of similar ages to mine and she had had the same experience with her second child (backing up a few years, I have to say that from the time my little dude started using a potty there was no turning back, so we never had the extra loads of laundry with him).
The advice that my friend gave me at the time was not to give anyone under four feet tall fluids after dinner. At first, even to me, it seemed an absurdly long time to go without fluids, and to monkey girl it seemed like the purest form of cruelty a parent could inflict upon a child. But as time went on we noticed that it REALLY worked. This new way of thinking about drinking became a new practice at our house for the most part however on the odd occasion an extra beverage sneaks its way into the hands of the monkey girl and we are reminded why we implemented the rule in the first place.
Now that you know the history, here is the reason that this post is called puddles ...
The other night monkey girl slipped into bed with my hubby and I at some point between 11:00 when we went to bed and 6:15 when we woke up. So in the morning when my hubby, who is not all that fond of sharing the bed with our little bed-hogging, kicks-people-in-her-sleep monkey girl, awoke to find himself in a puddle of urine, he was not impressed (to say the least).
The reaction ...
Now my hubby and I are different on many levels, and we learned this past week our reaction to being unwillingly drenched in bodily fluids is yet another difference that we have to learn to navigate in our marriage. With that said, the aftermath of the puddle incident went something like this: I jumped up, cleaned monkey girl and stripped the bed - all while trying very hard to keep to my strict workday timeline so that I could get out of the house by 7:40. Meanwhile my better half was taking his time in the shower (which was a little longer that morning) to really build up some emotion about being peed on.
By the time the shower turned off I had moved on from the pee and was onto my morning time mental check-list: sheets and duvet in the giant washing machine (aside: get a front loader if you can, it will save your sanity ... and possibly your marriage) - check, breakfast for the kids on the table - check, lunches made - check, dog outside for a pee - check. And then there was my hubby: "GRRRRRR" followed by "You cannot pee the bed, seriously monkey girl we will have to put you back in pull-ups if you continue with this behaviour - is that what you want!?!"
The reaction to the reaction:
It was at that moment that I stopped my morning routine and said something to the effect of, "It wasn't her fault ... calm down" - truth be told it may have been my fault as there was obviously an extra bevvie ingested at some point the night before, and I was home alone with the kids.
The result of my mid-rant comment was that my hubby left for work angry at being peed on and doubly angry at me for not supporting his anger at being peed on. Yikes!
The lesson ...
There was nothing left to be said after the door closed, quite loudly, so I carried on and got the kids out the door and off to childcare. I mulled the situation over on my way in to work on the bus that morning and came to the following conclusion: we were both justified in our opinions (mine being: nothing is going to change that she peed, so let's just not juice her up at bedtime in the future, and his being: being peed on is gross)
However, I should have seen his side a little more clearly and saved the rationalizing for once the pee smell was aired out of our room.
Supermom commentary ...
As parents we seem to be built with a protective instinct when it comes to our kids. So when someone else, even if that someone is our partner, criticizes our lovely offspring we automatically go on the defensive.
I would be willing to bet that this very instinct is the cause of at least 80% of the disagreements that my hubby and I have had since we have had children. We accuse each other of not being supportive or showing a united front in reactive situations like this one. When one of us is mad the other always seems to be acting as an advocate for the little people (except when the little dude thought it was funny to spit at people and got a time out at daycare ... there was no little person advocate in that case - it was just plain wrong!!! But that is a post for another time).
We seem to be on the same page when it comes to the big issues, it is just the piddly little incidents like this one that send us over the edge. The funny thing is that by the time I was done advocating and my hubby was done venting, monkey girl didn't even remember wetting the bed and our little dude was just wondering why everyone woke up in a bad mood on a sunny day.
Conclusion ...
So, I will continue to work on to being a little more supportive and a little less defensive in these situations and I, all these crazy parenting follies aside, I will tell my hubby more often that he is a wonderful dad and that we are in this together ... I may even down the road admit that it is okay to get mad when you get peed on.
My little monkey girl has been known to occasionally wet the bed. She has been potty trained for going on 8 months now and, though she is a certified potty-star during the day, sometimes her love of juice catches up with her at night. A few months ago I was discussing this with a colleague of mine at work who has children of similar ages to mine and she had had the same experience with her second child (backing up a few years, I have to say that from the time my little dude started using a potty there was no turning back, so we never had the extra loads of laundry with him).
The advice that my friend gave me at the time was not to give anyone under four feet tall fluids after dinner. At first, even to me, it seemed an absurdly long time to go without fluids, and to monkey girl it seemed like the purest form of cruelty a parent could inflict upon a child. But as time went on we noticed that it REALLY worked. This new way of thinking about drinking became a new practice at our house for the most part however on the odd occasion an extra beverage sneaks its way into the hands of the monkey girl and we are reminded why we implemented the rule in the first place.
Now that you know the history, here is the reason that this post is called puddles ...
The other night monkey girl slipped into bed with my hubby and I at some point between 11:00 when we went to bed and 6:15 when we woke up. So in the morning when my hubby, who is not all that fond of sharing the bed with our little bed-hogging, kicks-people-in-her-sleep monkey girl, awoke to find himself in a puddle of urine, he was not impressed (to say the least).
The reaction ...
Now my hubby and I are different on many levels, and we learned this past week our reaction to being unwillingly drenched in bodily fluids is yet another difference that we have to learn to navigate in our marriage. With that said, the aftermath of the puddle incident went something like this: I jumped up, cleaned monkey girl and stripped the bed - all while trying very hard to keep to my strict workday timeline so that I could get out of the house by 7:40. Meanwhile my better half was taking his time in the shower (which was a little longer that morning) to really build up some emotion about being peed on.
By the time the shower turned off I had moved on from the pee and was onto my morning time mental check-list: sheets and duvet in the giant washing machine (aside: get a front loader if you can, it will save your sanity ... and possibly your marriage) - check, breakfast for the kids on the table - check, lunches made - check, dog outside for a pee - check. And then there was my hubby: "GRRRRRR" followed by "You cannot pee the bed, seriously monkey girl we will have to put you back in pull-ups if you continue with this behaviour - is that what you want!?!"
The reaction to the reaction:
It was at that moment that I stopped my morning routine and said something to the effect of, "It wasn't her fault ... calm down" - truth be told it may have been my fault as there was obviously an extra bevvie ingested at some point the night before, and I was home alone with the kids.
The result of my mid-rant comment was that my hubby left for work angry at being peed on and doubly angry at me for not supporting his anger at being peed on. Yikes!
The lesson ...
There was nothing left to be said after the door closed, quite loudly, so I carried on and got the kids out the door and off to childcare. I mulled the situation over on my way in to work on the bus that morning and came to the following conclusion: we were both justified in our opinions (mine being: nothing is going to change that she peed, so let's just not juice her up at bedtime in the future, and his being: being peed on is gross)
However, I should have seen his side a little more clearly and saved the rationalizing for once the pee smell was aired out of our room.
Supermom commentary ...
As parents we seem to be built with a protective instinct when it comes to our kids. So when someone else, even if that someone is our partner, criticizes our lovely offspring we automatically go on the defensive.
I would be willing to bet that this very instinct is the cause of at least 80% of the disagreements that my hubby and I have had since we have had children. We accuse each other of not being supportive or showing a united front in reactive situations like this one. When one of us is mad the other always seems to be acting as an advocate for the little people (except when the little dude thought it was funny to spit at people and got a time out at daycare ... there was no little person advocate in that case - it was just plain wrong!!! But that is a post for another time).
We seem to be on the same page when it comes to the big issues, it is just the piddly little incidents like this one that send us over the edge. The funny thing is that by the time I was done advocating and my hubby was done venting, monkey girl didn't even remember wetting the bed and our little dude was just wondering why everyone woke up in a bad mood on a sunny day.
Conclusion ...
So, I will continue to work on to being a little more supportive and a little less defensive in these situations and I, all these crazy parenting follies aside, I will tell my hubby more often that he is a wonderful dad and that we are in this together ... I may even down the road admit that it is okay to get mad when you get peed on.
July 15, 2008
Here is an article on mothering by Anna Quindlen (columnist and author) that was passed on to me through an email. Take a moment to read it ~ it's a good one:
All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, have all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations --what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2. When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever- shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing.Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub- quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China . Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk too.Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the 'Remember-When- Mom-Did Hall of Fame.' The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barrelling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, 'What did you get wrong?'. (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night.I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less. Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, have all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations --what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2. When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever- shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing.Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub- quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China . Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk too.Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the 'Remember-When- Mom-Did Hall of Fame.' The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barrelling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, 'What did you get wrong?'. (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night.I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less. Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
July 14, 2008
It's the little things ...
If you have been keeping up with my posts thus far you may have noticed a trend of slight frustration .... so I thought I should put a warm and fuzzy post in for good measure (and of course because I REALLY love being a mom and wouldn't trade the tantrums and tattling for anything in the world).
So this past weekend we were busy, as per usual, we had house cleaning, garage saling and a kiddie pool party on the schedule for Saturday followed by relatives in town, shopping for a birthday present, a baby shower and a birthday party on Sunday. Actually now that I read this over I realize why I am sitting at my desk on this lovely Monday morning wishing that I could take my coffee by IV rather than drinking it from a silly little cup!!!
In any case, as of late I have been slightly concerned that my children, precious as they are, may not be as polite as other children. I sometimes notice that while my nieces and nephew are saying please and thank you my children appear on my heels foaming at the mouth like rabid dogs demanding rather than asking politely for the large variety of things that they "need" in a day. Other people often tell me that they are very polite and quite lovely to take care of, but I find that the comfort level of being at home means that the extra effort of a please or a thank you is often not expended and I have to say, it makes me a little bit crazy.
(Don't worry the warm and fuzzy part is coming)
So, during our garage saling expedition on Saturday morning we ran across a sale (actually put on by friends of ours) who were selling a scooter with big wheels and a hand brake that a certain little dude had his eye on. Plus, they had an entire Dora the Explorer set complete with a two story house, all of the beloved characters (save for Swiper that sneaky fox who needn't be there anyway!!!), a backyard play set AND a van to transport Dora's whole family around in. My sweet little monkey girl sat there looking at the Dora house longingly, but then to my surprise willingly got into the car without asking for it and we carried on to the bank machine to grab some cash for the scooter.
From the backseat I heard monkey girl say, "I wanted that Dora house" to her brother the little dude and that was all that was said of it. And his reaction was minimal at best as he was pretty stoked about the scooter in the back of the car.
When we went back to pay to the sale I got out alone and slid my friend the cash for both the scooter and the Dora set, walked by the car and and put Dora's house in the back without saying a word. Monkey girl saw it and lit right up ... and I just smiled and got back in the car. When I got home we set up the kiddie pool in preparation for an afternoon of splashing in the backyard, then I walked to the front of the house to talk to my hubby and the little dude scooted by and gave a big grin and a thank you that made up for the "I NEED some juice" and "Can't YOU just let the dog out" that had come from those same lips earlier that morning.
Feeling quite satisfied with the gratitude shown by my little dude, I went inside in search monkey girl and found her in her room quietly playing with her new Dora set. I paused, unnoticed, at the door and watched her for a few minutes and then went on to tackle the laundry that I had spent much of the past week trying to escape.
As I was separating the big shorts from the little shorts, I felt two little arms wrapped around me from behind and I turned around to find the monkey girl, Dora in hand, looking up and saying, "Mommy, I love you sooo much". Then as quickly as she had appeared she disappeared back into her bedroom to get her swimsuit on.
I stood there for a moment a little overwhelmed by how emotional I was feeling and thought about how many ways there are to say thank you. So as it turns out, these two little people are perfect just the way they are ... even if they do save their best manners for a greater audience.
**Please note that I have a vault full of many touching stories where equal gratitude was shown without a toy involved, but this one is still fresh and I felt that it needed to be told :o)
So this past weekend we were busy, as per usual, we had house cleaning, garage saling and a kiddie pool party on the schedule for Saturday followed by relatives in town, shopping for a birthday present, a baby shower and a birthday party on Sunday. Actually now that I read this over I realize why I am sitting at my desk on this lovely Monday morning wishing that I could take my coffee by IV rather than drinking it from a silly little cup!!!
In any case, as of late I have been slightly concerned that my children, precious as they are, may not be as polite as other children. I sometimes notice that while my nieces and nephew are saying please and thank you my children appear on my heels foaming at the mouth like rabid dogs demanding rather than asking politely for the large variety of things that they "need" in a day. Other people often tell me that they are very polite and quite lovely to take care of, but I find that the comfort level of being at home means that the extra effort of a please or a thank you is often not expended and I have to say, it makes me a little bit crazy.
(Don't worry the warm and fuzzy part is coming)
So, during our garage saling expedition on Saturday morning we ran across a sale (actually put on by friends of ours) who were selling a scooter with big wheels and a hand brake that a certain little dude had his eye on. Plus, they had an entire Dora the Explorer set complete with a two story house, all of the beloved characters (save for Swiper that sneaky fox who needn't be there anyway!!!), a backyard play set AND a van to transport Dora's whole family around in. My sweet little monkey girl sat there looking at the Dora house longingly, but then to my surprise willingly got into the car without asking for it and we carried on to the bank machine to grab some cash for the scooter.
From the backseat I heard monkey girl say, "I wanted that Dora house" to her brother the little dude and that was all that was said of it. And his reaction was minimal at best as he was pretty stoked about the scooter in the back of the car.
When we went back to pay to the sale I got out alone and slid my friend the cash for both the scooter and the Dora set, walked by the car and and put Dora's house in the back without saying a word. Monkey girl saw it and lit right up ... and I just smiled and got back in the car. When I got home we set up the kiddie pool in preparation for an afternoon of splashing in the backyard, then I walked to the front of the house to talk to my hubby and the little dude scooted by and gave a big grin and a thank you that made up for the "I NEED some juice" and "Can't YOU just let the dog out" that had come from those same lips earlier that morning.
Feeling quite satisfied with the gratitude shown by my little dude, I went inside in search monkey girl and found her in her room quietly playing with her new Dora set. I paused, unnoticed, at the door and watched her for a few minutes and then went on to tackle the laundry that I had spent much of the past week trying to escape.
As I was separating the big shorts from the little shorts, I felt two little arms wrapped around me from behind and I turned around to find the monkey girl, Dora in hand, looking up and saying, "Mommy, I love you sooo much". Then as quickly as she had appeared she disappeared back into her bedroom to get her swimsuit on.
I stood there for a moment a little overwhelmed by how emotional I was feeling and thought about how many ways there are to say thank you. So as it turns out, these two little people are perfect just the way they are ... even if they do save their best manners for a greater audience.
**Please note that I have a vault full of many touching stories where equal gratitude was shown without a toy involved, but this one is still fresh and I felt that it needed to be told :o)
July 8, 2008
The things you regret ...
Have you ever said something to your child in anger (or jest) that you just simply regret saying? I did this last night and it has made me think of how ironic it is that the people in your life that you would lay down and die for are often the ones who get that short end of your personality stick.
Last night bedtime came after a long day, by 8 o'clock I had gone to work, attended a wake, and had an impromptu dinner party with my sister and her family followed by a visit from my parents who came for dessert. Really it was a good day (even the wake was good because it was people coming together to share good memories), so I don't know why I decided to end it with a freak-out, something that, regrettably, is not all that uncommon when I am over-tired.
Once everyone had gone home and the kitchen was clean, there we were: monkey girl, the little dude and mommy all snug as bugs in my bed reading stories, and then it happened ... misbehaving by the kidlets followed by nothing less than a tantrum courtesy of mommy.
When I think of it now, it was not the end of the world that they chose picking at each other over listening to the stories, but at the time I was furious and said something to the effect of, "If you would rather your dad just put you to bed and skip time with mommy altogether that is fine by me ... WHY DON'T YOU TWO EVER LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER?????"
Before it was even out of my mouth I desperately wanted to take it all back, but there I was saying it anyway. You see the kids had spent the night with Nana and Papa over the weekend and had desperately missed their daddy (and no I did not forget to type and mommy) and even though my intelligent self knows that I am 32 and they are 3 and 6 ... my less intelligent and more emotional self was quite hurt that they didn't miss their mommy (and no I did not forget to type too). As much as I love my husband and agree that he is indeed a wonderful father, it turns out that I am quite selfish and wanted to be the MOST missed during our evening apart.
With all of that background information you are probably now acutely aware of the fact that my asking my sweet (though mischievous) children if they wanted their dad to just put them to bed was a form of punishment for not missing me more ... I know what you are thinking ... you are not a supermom at all (and I agree).
Now, I know that I can't be too hard on myself for saying something out of turn, but the problem is that once you say something it is out there. My kids may not even remember that I was petty and immature last night, but I do, and I have taken it upon myself to spend the next four days (in hopes of forming a habit - see vacation bedtimes post for explanation) to closely filter the things that pop up in my brain before allowing them to exit my mouth.
When my sisters and brother and I were accused of being meanies as children my dad would ask us: " Is it true? Is it kind? Is it necessary?" and if what we had said was not all three of these things then chances were that we shouldn't have said it at all.
As annoying as those questions were as a child, it turns out that they may just be words to live by. Imagine how the world would change if we all thought about the things that we said before we said them, instead of counting on a chance to ask for forgiveness later.
In the end, I did apologize to my kids and explained (AGAIN) that pinching each other when mommy is reading is not good storytime behaviour, and this morning we were all up and ready for a new day at 6:15 a.m., but on this new day I am grateful for all of the wonderful blessings in my life - and even when those blessings pinch and jump and interrupt I will take it with a grain of salt and remember to ask my dad's famous questions before misbehaving myself.
Last night bedtime came after a long day, by 8 o'clock I had gone to work, attended a wake, and had an impromptu dinner party with my sister and her family followed by a visit from my parents who came for dessert. Really it was a good day (even the wake was good because it was people coming together to share good memories), so I don't know why I decided to end it with a freak-out, something that, regrettably, is not all that uncommon when I am over-tired.
Once everyone had gone home and the kitchen was clean, there we were: monkey girl, the little dude and mommy all snug as bugs in my bed reading stories, and then it happened ... misbehaving by the kidlets followed by nothing less than a tantrum courtesy of mommy.
When I think of it now, it was not the end of the world that they chose picking at each other over listening to the stories, but at the time I was furious and said something to the effect of, "If you would rather your dad just put you to bed and skip time with mommy altogether that is fine by me ... WHY DON'T YOU TWO EVER LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER?????"
Before it was even out of my mouth I desperately wanted to take it all back, but there I was saying it anyway. You see the kids had spent the night with Nana and Papa over the weekend and had desperately missed their daddy (and no I did not forget to type and mommy) and even though my intelligent self knows that I am 32 and they are 3 and 6 ... my less intelligent and more emotional self was quite hurt that they didn't miss their mommy (and no I did not forget to type too). As much as I love my husband and agree that he is indeed a wonderful father, it turns out that I am quite selfish and wanted to be the MOST missed during our evening apart.
With all of that background information you are probably now acutely aware of the fact that my asking my sweet (though mischievous) children if they wanted their dad to just put them to bed was a form of punishment for not missing me more ... I know what you are thinking ... you are not a supermom at all (and I agree).
Now, I know that I can't be too hard on myself for saying something out of turn, but the problem is that once you say something it is out there. My kids may not even remember that I was petty and immature last night, but I do, and I have taken it upon myself to spend the next four days (in hopes of forming a habit - see vacation bedtimes post for explanation) to closely filter the things that pop up in my brain before allowing them to exit my mouth.
When my sisters and brother and I were accused of being meanies as children my dad would ask us: " Is it true? Is it kind? Is it necessary?" and if what we had said was not all three of these things then chances were that we shouldn't have said it at all.
As annoying as those questions were as a child, it turns out that they may just be words to live by. Imagine how the world would change if we all thought about the things that we said before we said them, instead of counting on a chance to ask for forgiveness later.
In the end, I did apologize to my kids and explained (AGAIN) that pinching each other when mommy is reading is not good storytime behaviour, and this morning we were all up and ready for a new day at 6:15 a.m., but on this new day I am grateful for all of the wonderful blessings in my life - and even when those blessings pinch and jump and interrupt I will take it with a grain of salt and remember to ask my dad's famous questions before misbehaving myself.
July 4, 2008
Bribery ... a nasty word for a handy tool
Have you ever spoken to someone who says that they would NEVER bribe their child into behaving? Well let me tell you, I have and it seems to me that there are a couple of things that these "types" have in common. Either 1. Their children cannot yet walk or talk (whining is not really whining if you cannot understand the general message) or 2. Their children are still theoretical ... and naturally their parenting will be highly evolved by the time they have to deal situations where us common-folk resort to bribery.
I know this because I was once an almost-parent and went on to pass even more judgement on the parenting skills of others back when I became a new parent and my little dude's only rebellion consisted of spitting up on his freshly washed onesie, so I do not fault any of these "types" ... it is a natural progression and their time for eating crow will come about two and a half years after they cross over into parentdom.
AN EXAMPLE TO PROVE MY FORMER IGNORANCE:
I remember back when my neice was two and my little dude was just about one ... at the time I thought that the "terrible twos" were something that were within a parents' control and that my son would NEVER act out, and certainly not in public! My poor sister would buy her daughter off with the promise of a Dora episode or an icecream and I would smile sweetly while secretly vowing that these tactics would not be part of my unique parenting style.
Then a year later my little dude turned two and it was suddenly apparent to me that my sister was an amazing mother, and I desperately needed her help to find out what tricks she found most effective when bribing her toddler who was starting to act more rational as she got a little older. To this day I wheel and deal with both of my children in a grand attempt to keep them on the "will babysit list" with local teens in my neighbourhood.
WISE WORDS FROM A PRO:
The topic of bribery came up in a conversation with my mom (supermom of four) awhile back and she said that every time she took my brother out when he was a toddler she would buy his good behaviour with a Hot Wheels car ... a fact that makes me laugh because my brother has gone through life with a reputation for being a kid that never caused any problems and if you go into my parents' basement there are probably 200 Hot Wheels cars that DO NOT belong to his three older sisters!!! :o)
TIP FOR PARENTS OF POST TODDLERS:
I do have a modified-bribery tip for those of you who have young school aged children who have learned the cause and effect lesson that you were trying to teach them with "good behaviour treats" as a toddler and now need to learn that good things come to those who wait. Try getting your little person to set a goal of something that s/he REALLY wants (within reason) and have them complete chores and tasks to work towards getting it.
For example my little dude is a HUGE Calgary Flames fan and an even bigger Dion Phaneuf (Flames defenseman) fan, so my husband and I made a deal with him that once he had earned it we would take him to buy a Phaneuf jersey (Jersey = $200 shirt for a 6 year old!!!! He needed to work for this one!) So he started off with $25 that he had gotten for his birthday and did chores like feeding the dog, making his bed or keeping an eye on his sister and cousin in the basement when we had company for $1-$3 per task (watching monkey girl is worth a little more than feeding our pooch) until he had enough to buy the jersey. It took just over two months and we tracked his progress on our fridge calendar. Good behaviour was rewarded, lots of extra stuff around the house got done after only one ask and the best part was how proud he was when he got his jersey. This may have been my first WIN-WIN agreement ever!
I know this because I was once an almost-parent and went on to pass even more judgement on the parenting skills of others back when I became a new parent and my little dude's only rebellion consisted of spitting up on his freshly washed onesie, so I do not fault any of these "types" ... it is a natural progression and their time for eating crow will come about two and a half years after they cross over into parentdom.
AN EXAMPLE TO PROVE MY FORMER IGNORANCE:
I remember back when my neice was two and my little dude was just about one ... at the time I thought that the "terrible twos" were something that were within a parents' control and that my son would NEVER act out, and certainly not in public! My poor sister would buy her daughter off with the promise of a Dora episode or an icecream and I would smile sweetly while secretly vowing that these tactics would not be part of my unique parenting style.
Then a year later my little dude turned two and it was suddenly apparent to me that my sister was an amazing mother, and I desperately needed her help to find out what tricks she found most effective when bribing her toddler who was starting to act more rational as she got a little older. To this day I wheel and deal with both of my children in a grand attempt to keep them on the "will babysit list" with local teens in my neighbourhood.
WISE WORDS FROM A PRO:
The topic of bribery came up in a conversation with my mom (supermom of four) awhile back and she said that every time she took my brother out when he was a toddler she would buy his good behaviour with a Hot Wheels car ... a fact that makes me laugh because my brother has gone through life with a reputation for being a kid that never caused any problems and if you go into my parents' basement there are probably 200 Hot Wheels cars that DO NOT belong to his three older sisters!!! :o)
TIP FOR PARENTS OF POST TODDLERS:
I do have a modified-bribery tip for those of you who have young school aged children who have learned the cause and effect lesson that you were trying to teach them with "good behaviour treats" as a toddler and now need to learn that good things come to those who wait. Try getting your little person to set a goal of something that s/he REALLY wants (within reason) and have them complete chores and tasks to work towards getting it.
For example my little dude is a HUGE Calgary Flames fan and an even bigger Dion Phaneuf (Flames defenseman) fan, so my husband and I made a deal with him that once he had earned it we would take him to buy a Phaneuf jersey (Jersey = $200 shirt for a 6 year old!!!! He needed to work for this one!) So he started off with $25 that he had gotten for his birthday and did chores like feeding the dog, making his bed or keeping an eye on his sister and cousin in the basement when we had company for $1-$3 per task (watching monkey girl is worth a little more than feeding our pooch) until he had enough to buy the jersey. It took just over two months and we tracked his progress on our fridge calendar. Good behaviour was rewarded, lots of extra stuff around the house got done after only one ask and the best part was how proud he was when he got his jersey. This may have been my first WIN-WIN agreement ever!
July 3, 2008
Short term gain, long term pain ... a tale of "vacation bedtimes"
Well the long weekend was an overwhelming success by many measures . . . 10 kids, more than 10 adults, a beach and 5 acres of rolling green grass to run and play. It was perfect save for the classic mistake that, like being frustrated when shopping, I am almost certain that I will make again. Here is my tale . . .
When it comes to sleep patterns and children it is commonly said that it takes four days to establish a pattern and one day to break one. I don't know who the brilliant behaviourist who came up with this formula is, but as someone in her seventh year of motherhood I must say that, though completely unfair, it seems to be true. In fact, I proved it once again for good measure this past weekend.
On Friday night we arrived at the lake just before 8:00 PM (on a weeknight at home this is when we are usually getting out of the tub and climbing into bed for storytime). It had been a long week at work coupled with a long drive out and both my husband and I were completely focused on setting up the campsite, making the kids a hot dog and grabbing ourselves a cold beverage so that we could settle in and visit with our friends.
You may have noticed that in that laundry list of priorities, stories and bedtime do not even make an appearance - there is a reason for this, and the reason is that those two very important weeknight priorities were the furthest things from our "vacation mode" minds. In fact our mindset was so relaxed that we thought it was a great idea to keep the kids up late because they would inevitably sleep in the next morning as a reward for our kindness (WARNING: this trick has only just started working now that our youngest is 3.5. DO NOT try this with younger crack-of-dawn-loving children because IT WILL BACKFIRE and you WILL have a miserable little troll who wakes up at their regular time and punishes you for the remainder of the day for your mis-step).
So, the kids continued to play well into the late evening and we enjoyed the company of our friends and bevvies and hot dogs by the fire. A couple of hours later the kids were right tuckered out and went to bed relatively easily so, in light of the success of this pilot project, we continued the pattern for the duration of our stay ... which was four nights (if you refer back to the pattern formula you will understand why this is not a good thing).
On Tuesday, four nights of 10:30 bedtimes later, we decided not to rush out and get in one more day at the beach before making the trek home. So at 5:30 we hit the road and as our rational brains slowly started to re-emerge we realized that we had made a rookie mistake. Not only had we altered our children's sleeping patterns (possibly indefinitely) but we had just loaded two beached out, played out and generally worn out kids into our vehicle for a two and a half hour car ride home. A sick feeling came over me at the moment I realized what we had done ... we had created the recipe for the perfect storm.
Keeping them awake in the truck would not only be difficult, but if they were as exhausted as I was we would not want to be driving down the highway with them grumpy and awake. So we opted to continue with our newly found pattern of haphazard parenting and let them sleep, knowing full well that when we got home, bedtime was going to be a nightmare.
I should say that my son, who is six, was really good about trying to stay awake and watch his movie and he only drifted off briefly during the last leg of our trip. Monkey-girl fell asleep early on but she had played hard for the full 96 hours since our arrival (or so it seemed) and did deserve a rest - I just wish it hadn't been from 6 - 8 PM on the night before we had to re-start our weekday morning routine.
We rolled into town around 8:00 PM and shuffled our sleeping beauties into the tub, complete with lavender to encourage more sleeping, and then attempted to restart the regular bedtime wind-down routine. To make a long story short the little dude finally tuckered out at 10:00 PM*, my husband hit the hay at 11:00 PM and monkey-girl decided that she was ready to go back to sleep just after midnight* ... at which point this supermom fell asleep on top of the covers, fully dressed. 6:15 came pretty darn early on Wednesday for all of us!
Much to my chagrin our second night home was only slightly more reasonable than the first, sleep came to each child one hour earlier than it had the night before. I can only hope that by tonight they will be tired enough from their 6:15 starts to slip back into their earlier, more reasonable routine ... which of course will be just in time for a weekend full of BBQs and birthday parties which equal more late nights (though not nearly as late)! And so it begins again .... wish me luck!
*Just a note to let readers know that I cannot complain too much because both the little dude and monkey-girl stay in their rooms once they are put to bed ... and they are pretty cute, I just want them to get their rest so their days can be as full of fun as they can be.
This was just one small aspect of an otherwise eventful weekend, we also had one black eye, a bloody nose, birthday cake, beach fun and some wagon rides down a grassy hill - lots of fun! We are a lucky bunch.
When it comes to sleep patterns and children it is commonly said that it takes four days to establish a pattern and one day to break one. I don't know who the brilliant behaviourist who came up with this formula is, but as someone in her seventh year of motherhood I must say that, though completely unfair, it seems to be true. In fact, I proved it once again for good measure this past weekend.
On Friday night we arrived at the lake just before 8:00 PM (on a weeknight at home this is when we are usually getting out of the tub and climbing into bed for storytime). It had been a long week at work coupled with a long drive out and both my husband and I were completely focused on setting up the campsite, making the kids a hot dog and grabbing ourselves a cold beverage so that we could settle in and visit with our friends.
You may have noticed that in that laundry list of priorities, stories and bedtime do not even make an appearance - there is a reason for this, and the reason is that those two very important weeknight priorities were the furthest things from our "vacation mode" minds. In fact our mindset was so relaxed that we thought it was a great idea to keep the kids up late because they would inevitably sleep in the next morning as a reward for our kindness (WARNING: this trick has only just started working now that our youngest is 3.5. DO NOT try this with younger crack-of-dawn-loving children because IT WILL BACKFIRE and you WILL have a miserable little troll who wakes up at their regular time and punishes you for the remainder of the day for your mis-step).
So, the kids continued to play well into the late evening and we enjoyed the company of our friends and bevvies and hot dogs by the fire. A couple of hours later the kids were right tuckered out and went to bed relatively easily so, in light of the success of this pilot project, we continued the pattern for the duration of our stay ... which was four nights (if you refer back to the pattern formula you will understand why this is not a good thing).
On Tuesday, four nights of 10:30 bedtimes later, we decided not to rush out and get in one more day at the beach before making the trek home. So at 5:30 we hit the road and as our rational brains slowly started to re-emerge we realized that we had made a rookie mistake. Not only had we altered our children's sleeping patterns (possibly indefinitely) but we had just loaded two beached out, played out and generally worn out kids into our vehicle for a two and a half hour car ride home. A sick feeling came over me at the moment I realized what we had done ... we had created the recipe for the perfect storm.
Keeping them awake in the truck would not only be difficult, but if they were as exhausted as I was we would not want to be driving down the highway with them grumpy and awake. So we opted to continue with our newly found pattern of haphazard parenting and let them sleep, knowing full well that when we got home, bedtime was going to be a nightmare.
I should say that my son, who is six, was really good about trying to stay awake and watch his movie and he only drifted off briefly during the last leg of our trip. Monkey-girl fell asleep early on but she had played hard for the full 96 hours since our arrival (or so it seemed) and did deserve a rest - I just wish it hadn't been from 6 - 8 PM on the night before we had to re-start our weekday morning routine.
We rolled into town around 8:00 PM and shuffled our sleeping beauties into the tub, complete with lavender to encourage more sleeping, and then attempted to restart the regular bedtime wind-down routine. To make a long story short the little dude finally tuckered out at 10:00 PM*, my husband hit the hay at 11:00 PM and monkey-girl decided that she was ready to go back to sleep just after midnight* ... at which point this supermom fell asleep on top of the covers, fully dressed. 6:15 came pretty darn early on Wednesday for all of us!
Much to my chagrin our second night home was only slightly more reasonable than the first, sleep came to each child one hour earlier than it had the night before. I can only hope that by tonight they will be tired enough from their 6:15 starts to slip back into their earlier, more reasonable routine ... which of course will be just in time for a weekend full of BBQs and birthday parties which equal more late nights (though not nearly as late)! And so it begins again .... wish me luck!
*Just a note to let readers know that I cannot complain too much because both the little dude and monkey-girl stay in their rooms once they are put to bed ... and they are pretty cute, I just want them to get their rest so their days can be as full of fun as they can be.
This was just one small aspect of an otherwise eventful weekend, we also had one black eye, a bloody nose, birthday cake, beach fun and some wagon rides down a grassy hill - lots of fun! We are a lucky bunch.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)