If I told you that 95% of the "art work" my children bring home ends up in the trash within 48 hours (if not minutes), do you:
A. Gasp in horror
B. Nod in understanding
C. Air fist pump in solidarity
I cannot handle the amount of paper clutter that can fit in my children's 10" backpacks. It amazes me. Some of it is cool and goes of the fridge for a few weeks, but I don't like fridge clutter either so we only have one clip designated for art work. The way I see it, they learn early that only the best wins.
(Again, you're either: A. Gasping in horror at my insensitivity B. Nodding as you remember the scribbles you recently discarded or C. Air fist pumping with one hand and ditching the latest batch at my encouragement.)
There is a chance that this stems from my severe lack of artistic ability. I remember vividly the clay turtle I made in fifth grade whose shell was supposed to serve as some kind of miniature storage. The two-part shell did not align properly and it certainly wasn't deep enough to be used for anything more than paper clips.
Nonetheless, my clay turtle made moves with us. It survived my childhood and well into young adulthood. For all I know it's still on my mother's end table. (Some of my lifelong friends are like "oh yeah, I remember that turtle," because it was proudly displayed in our living room for years. Then they probably picture the actually functional, or at least pretty clay objects they also made in the same art class.)
To this day, I refuse nearly all crafts - just ask my MOPS group. I was the only one who indicated "too many crafts" on the year end survey. So imagine my horror as I get further into motherhood and realize that I am expected to craft with my child. Here I am thinking I left all clay turtle abominations in my past, only to be confronted by an art kit my child received for her birthday that involves fuzzy balls, glue, and googly eyes.
THE WORST.
Before you hang me out to dry for squelching my children's artistic expressions via the trash, in my own defense, I do ask my daughter (sometimes) if she'd like to keep things. Sometimes she says, "yes" and they go into her room and I throw them out when I clean her room a week later. Sometimes she self-admits that they're no good and trashes them herself. So really, I'm just speeding up the process or beating her to it.
All this to say, I hope I'm not the only parent who ditches their kids art work. Some of you probably have organized bins by age where you can see their letters progress and track their development from outside the lines to in. And let me just say, there will be a moment years from now when you will say with tears in your eyes, "Oh my gosh, look! I can't believe I kept this! This is so cute!" and my kids will be like "Why didn't you keep any of my art work, Mom?" with that teenage angst in their voice like I don't care about them at all and never have and don't understand anything, so... there's that.
Wednesday, December 19, 2018
Tuesday, December 11, 2018
Walruses and Motherhood
Have you ever seen Blue Planet? Or Planet Earth? Every time we watch them I'm amazed at our world. I marvel at the blue of the ocean (likely highlighted by HD, but nonetheless) and the intricacies of animal life - not to mention the vicious animal attacks that make their way on screen and always seem to shade my rose colored glasses.
We put Blue Planet II on the other day and the kids were oo-ing and ahh-ing over all the cool stuff they saw. My daughter never stopped asking questions long enough for us to hear any answers to them.
"What's that, Daddy? Is that alive? Why is that? Why is that there? Are they friends? Do they live there?" Etc. etc. etc.
In one scene there was a herd, or "huddle", if you will, of walruses. They were fighting for space on floating pieces of ice to protect their young. David Attenborough's voice slowed as he highlighted the lone walrus looking for a place to join her fellow walruses (walri? No, that's not right - walruses.) She couldn't find a place to go. She tried to get up, but no one would move over! They watched her floating around searching for a place to go to protect her cold little babe, and they did not move.
Of course, in perfect emotional timing, they pan to a view from under the water where you can see the baby walrus clinging to its mother. So, what does she do? She fights. She starts using her giant tusks to try and force her way onto a patch of ice. A fight ensues and there's a mess of walruses all fighting, falling, and flailing in the name of protecting their young. In the end, everybody loses and they're floating in the freezing water, together, but alone.
I couldn't stop thinking about what motherhood can feel like. That one mom who doesn't fit, feels alone, exiled, and like she doesn't have anywhere to go. Certainly no one seems to be making room for her. Instead, they just watch to see what she'll do. Under scrutiny she becomes defensive and takes up her torch to pave her own way.
Motherhood should never have to be that.
I hope the analogy is clear. When another mother is in need, it behooves all of us to do more than just watch her struggle. You may not be doing it in judgment, it may be completely passive, but to her it feels the same. So whenever possible, move over.
One day you will be the mom who needs a friend, an encouraging word, a hug, a home-cooked meal, a babysitter, a cup of coffee, or a play date. Heck, I'm that mom like every day. And for some reason when I was watching these mother walruses battle it out, all I could think was, just share the ice! We all need a place to help our babies thrive, just share the ice!
So to all of my mother friends out there: I hope you're not offended that I'm comparing us to walruses. I promise it has nothing to do with our child-bearing hips. But I would totally share my ice with you.
We put Blue Planet II on the other day and the kids were oo-ing and ahh-ing over all the cool stuff they saw. My daughter never stopped asking questions long enough for us to hear any answers to them.
"What's that, Daddy? Is that alive? Why is that? Why is that there? Are they friends? Do they live there?" Etc. etc. etc.
In one scene there was a herd, or "huddle", if you will, of walruses. They were fighting for space on floating pieces of ice to protect their young. David Attenborough's voice slowed as he highlighted the lone walrus looking for a place to join her fellow walruses (walri? No, that's not right - walruses.) She couldn't find a place to go. She tried to get up, but no one would move over! They watched her floating around searching for a place to go to protect her cold little babe, and they did not move.
Of course, in perfect emotional timing, they pan to a view from under the water where you can see the baby walrus clinging to its mother. So, what does she do? She fights. She starts using her giant tusks to try and force her way onto a patch of ice. A fight ensues and there's a mess of walruses all fighting, falling, and flailing in the name of protecting their young. In the end, everybody loses and they're floating in the freezing water, together, but alone.
I couldn't stop thinking about what motherhood can feel like. That one mom who doesn't fit, feels alone, exiled, and like she doesn't have anywhere to go. Certainly no one seems to be making room for her. Instead, they just watch to see what she'll do. Under scrutiny she becomes defensive and takes up her torch to pave her own way.
Motherhood should never have to be that.
I hope the analogy is clear. When another mother is in need, it behooves all of us to do more than just watch her struggle. You may not be doing it in judgment, it may be completely passive, but to her it feels the same. So whenever possible, move over.
One day you will be the mom who needs a friend, an encouraging word, a hug, a home-cooked meal, a babysitter, a cup of coffee, or a play date. Heck, I'm that mom like every day. And for some reason when I was watching these mother walruses battle it out, all I could think was, just share the ice! We all need a place to help our babies thrive, just share the ice!
So to all of my mother friends out there: I hope you're not offended that I'm comparing us to walruses. I promise it has nothing to do with our child-bearing hips. But I would totally share my ice with you.
Tuesday, December 4, 2018
Imaginary Friends
My daughter has an imaginary friend, er... family member is more accurate, I suppose. It's been a while now, so I think he's here to stay for a bit. He is my daughter's son. He lived in her belly, which I attribute to the close friends and aunts that are currently pregnant. Here's what I know about him:
He was born in the winter. How do I know? She said, "Can you believe when he came out of my belly it was winter?" But he doesn't really understand the season. "He's always wondering where winter is, like, where is that coming from?"
When he was a baby he "always got the hiccups."
He lives in the woods. He used to live alone, but his sister, Lala, came to join him. She asked me one day, gesturing to the empty space next to her, "Have you met Apron's sister, Lala? She's really nice."
Recently, they (Apron and Lala) went to the jungle together to look at animals and they found a puppy and took it home with them.
When he's not a good listener, he gets sent to his room.
He likes to be around his mom. "He just is always trying to be with me, so..."
He calls her a lot. When she's on her "cell phone" (i.e. the non-functional flip phone I didn't get my husband to give up until 2014) she is usually saying something like, "Apron, I told you, stop calling me!" ...He's very needy.
Apron seems to take on a lot of my daughter's traits.
When I tell her to eat her vegetables at dinner she usually comes back with something like, "Apron just didn't like to eat his vegetables, too, so I told him he has to go to his room."
I have been told active imaginations are a good thing, but thought I'd confirm before I continued to endorse this "Apron" for my own entertainment. A short google search led me to a title that said, "Creative Children Who Build Imaginary Worlds May Well Be Geniuses." Enough said. I didn't even click on the link, I just began her early application to the Ivy League. A wooded world where a mama's boy and his sister go on safaris together and get a puppy? Genius.
The best part is she's started roping her (real) brother into it, too. He acknowledges them and participates in their group activities, so at least they're inclusive.
I've also come to realize my daughter is not the only one with imaginary friends. When one of my (real) friends came over for a play date, she said her daughter told her she was going to bring her dragons in with her.
"Maybe don't lead with that..." she said.
When she told me the story, after appropriate laughter, I said, "I'll see your imaginary dragons and raise you an imaginary son who lives in the woods."
Cheers to friends, real and imaginary.
He was born in the winter. How do I know? She said, "Can you believe when he came out of my belly it was winter?" But he doesn't really understand the season. "He's always wondering where winter is, like, where is that coming from?"
When he was a baby he "always got the hiccups."
He lives in the woods. He used to live alone, but his sister, Lala, came to join him. She asked me one day, gesturing to the empty space next to her, "Have you met Apron's sister, Lala? She's really nice."
Recently, they (Apron and Lala) went to the jungle together to look at animals and they found a puppy and took it home with them.
When he's not a good listener, he gets sent to his room.
He likes to be around his mom. "He just is always trying to be with me, so..."
He calls her a lot. When she's on her "cell phone" (i.e. the non-functional flip phone I didn't get my husband to give up until 2014) she is usually saying something like, "Apron, I told you, stop calling me!" ...He's very needy.
Apron seems to take on a lot of my daughter's traits.
When I tell her to eat her vegetables at dinner she usually comes back with something like, "Apron just didn't like to eat his vegetables, too, so I told him he has to go to his room."
I have been told active imaginations are a good thing, but thought I'd confirm before I continued to endorse this "Apron" for my own entertainment. A short google search led me to a title that said, "Creative Children Who Build Imaginary Worlds May Well Be Geniuses." Enough said. I didn't even click on the link, I just began her early application to the Ivy League. A wooded world where a mama's boy and his sister go on safaris together and get a puppy? Genius.
The best part is she's started roping her (real) brother into it, too. He acknowledges them and participates in their group activities, so at least they're inclusive.
I've also come to realize my daughter is not the only one with imaginary friends. When one of my (real) friends came over for a play date, she said her daughter told her she was going to bring her dragons in with her.
"Maybe don't lead with that..." she said.
When she told me the story, after appropriate laughter, I said, "I'll see your imaginary dragons and raise you an imaginary son who lives in the woods."
Cheers to friends, real and imaginary.
Thursday, November 8, 2018
Be Careful What You S-A-Y
I'm entirely convinced that moms have mastered the art of spelling words, hiding chocolate, and turning the music up to avoid the kids hearing a snack wrapper, for the sole reason that we understand just how high the stakes are. One misplaced tootsie roll, casual mention of a fun trip, or passing by Chick-fil-A without the sunshades up can result in a complete meltdown. None are more familiar with and sensitive to this than mothers.
I've recently transitioned to being home with my kids full-time. Years ago, I would've said that's exactly what I thought I'd be doing, but after entering the workforce, I tried to find every possible way to do both. Without going into the whole saga of the life that led to my "SAHM" status, suffice to say it is a transition currently in full swing.
I thrive on structure, schedule, and feedback, which can make full days with a two and three-year-old both frustrating and exhausting. That said, I am gradually finding a rhythm to help me with my new status.
Each day I have a list of things I'd like to do. Checking boxes makes me happy.... though many of the lists start with "carryover" from the things I missed the day before. (I'm still learning to be less ambitious with my boxes.) Nonetheless, the list is there and I have intentions for the day.
My husband, my darling husband, who heads out the door during the kids breakfast, isn't always aware of said intentions, so he makes "suggestions" for the day. He does this completely mindlessly without realizing the impact it will have, but it goes something like this:
Kids: "Bye Daddy, see you later!"
Husband: "Bye guys! Hey, maybe Mama can take you guys to the park today! See ya!"
Me: *insert "really???" emoji*
Door closes.
Kids: "YEAH! MOMMY, MOMMY CAN WE GO TO THE PARK TODAY?!?! CAN WE GO RIGHT NOW? DADDY SAID PARK!!
Okay. Sometimes the park is on the list. We love the park. I totally take my kids there. But on a day we happen to be grocery shopping, going to a doctor's appointment, and having a play date... it's not going to happen. So I'm the one who now has to say, "Sorry guys, we aren't going to the park today. You have to go to the doctor to get some vaccines and then sit in the cart while we get groceries." And pray that the play date is enough to fend them off.
Thanks, Daddy! See you in 10 hours!
My husband thinks he should be able to sit on the couch with a bowl of ice cream while the kids are awake, meanwhile I've carefully portioned out my food intake so that I can eat in peace at 8:05 p.m. Sure, all of my bad food choices are made before sleeping hours, which is probably leading to bad life choices and a couple extra pounds.
Don't care. No one asked me to share the chips.
It used to bother me that my husband doesn't play the first-you-spell-then-you-sneak game, but to his credit, the kids have now (mostly) learned that life isn't fair, and adults have privileges that kids don't. And as long as he doesn't mind being swarmed like JTT in the 90's, who am I to S-T-O-P him?
I've recently transitioned to being home with my kids full-time. Years ago, I would've said that's exactly what I thought I'd be doing, but after entering the workforce, I tried to find every possible way to do both. Without going into the whole saga of the life that led to my "SAHM" status, suffice to say it is a transition currently in full swing.
I thrive on structure, schedule, and feedback, which can make full days with a two and three-year-old both frustrating and exhausting. That said, I am gradually finding a rhythm to help me with my new status.
Each day I have a list of things I'd like to do. Checking boxes makes me happy.... though many of the lists start with "carryover" from the things I missed the day before. (I'm still learning to be less ambitious with my boxes.) Nonetheless, the list is there and I have intentions for the day.
My husband, my darling husband, who heads out the door during the kids breakfast, isn't always aware of said intentions, so he makes "suggestions" for the day. He does this completely mindlessly without realizing the impact it will have, but it goes something like this:
Kids: "Bye Daddy, see you later!"
Husband: "Bye guys! Hey, maybe Mama can take you guys to the park today! See ya!"
Me: *insert "really???" emoji*
Door closes.
Kids: "YEAH! MOMMY, MOMMY CAN WE GO TO THE PARK TODAY?!?! CAN WE GO RIGHT NOW? DADDY SAID PARK!!
Okay. Sometimes the park is on the list. We love the park. I totally take my kids there. But on a day we happen to be grocery shopping, going to a doctor's appointment, and having a play date... it's not going to happen. So I'm the one who now has to say, "Sorry guys, we aren't going to the park today. You have to go to the doctor to get some vaccines and then sit in the cart while we get groceries." And pray that the play date is enough to fend them off.
Thanks, Daddy! See you in 10 hours!
My husband thinks he should be able to sit on the couch with a bowl of ice cream while the kids are awake, meanwhile I've carefully portioned out my food intake so that I can eat in peace at 8:05 p.m. Sure, all of my bad food choices are made before sleeping hours, which is probably leading to bad life choices and a couple extra pounds.
Don't care. No one asked me to share the chips.
It used to bother me that my husband doesn't play the first-you-spell-then-you-sneak game, but to his credit, the kids have now (mostly) learned that life isn't fair, and adults have privileges that kids don't. And as long as he doesn't mind being swarmed like JTT in the 90's, who am I to S-T-O-P him?
Thursday, October 25, 2018
Things I Force Myself to Do
As parents, there are many things we do that we do not want to do. (Examples: make approximately 17 million peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, wrestle on a hardwood floor, say things like "please stop licking the grocery cart.") The motivations for doing those things are sometimes selfish, and sometimes selfless.
I've been taking inventory of the things I've been doing even when I don't want to, because I know in the long run, I really do. Parenting, and adulting in general, can be complicated. There is a very appropriate Bible verse that I feel correctly represents what many of us feel when we give in to what we think we want only to find out, we don't:
"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." Romans 7:15
Things I force myself do, because I know I should, and I want to, just not usually at the time...:
1. Wake up with my alarm. Parenting gives me a daily run for my money. The alarm clock goes off and the lure of more sleep is as tempting as the midnight (okay, 9 p.m.) snack was the night before. Unlike the snack, I don't usually give in. The main reason? I've had too much experience being forced into the day by the cries of my children, and it is the wrong head space for the start of my day. I feel exponentially better when I wake up well before my kids and have had two cups of coffee.
2. Exercise. We all know it. We've all heard it. Exercise makes you feel better, right? Totally! But it's really hard to use that as motivation when the only time you have cuts into precious sleep. Makes you feel better? Who says? Sleep makes me feel better. That is a more accurate representation of my 5 a.m. thoughts. Nonetheless, I force myself to do it because I've experienced the way it makes me feel better, and perhaps more importantly, how not doing it makes me feel worse.
3. Pray. Another habit I've acquired because I've seen my life not doing it, and frankly, prayer makes me better. Having a sense of connection to the greater scale of life on a regular basis keeps my day in perspective. Remembering that I'm not in this crazy life alone or without purpose helps me keep things balanced.
Things I'm learning to force myself to do, because I know I should, and I want to, just not usually at the time...:
1. Take my kids outside. It is October and I have already worn a fleece blanket around as a dress over my jeans and hoodie. I don't love the cold. But I've been through enough winters to know that this is not yet the cold to come, and I should take advantage of any day the sun chooses to shine in State College, PA. In fact, even without the sun shining, I'm forcing myself to get outside with my kids. They do better, I do better, and the fresh air brings a refreshing new perspective on the day.
2. Meal plan and cook. Ugh. Meal planning. I don't know if it's worse than actually cooking the meals or not, but it's a pretty close race for me. I totally don't mind cooking when I have the time to do so. But let's face it, uninterrupted time to whip together dinner is a rarity, and I usually end up sacrificing the cleanliness of every other room in my house to do so. It pays off, but it's hard! I'm still learning how to make this one feel easier.
3. Things I love. I think there is a misconception that we should always want to do the things we love to do. We are human, and sometimes motivation and energy just run low. That said, my days are exponentially better when I force myself to run, read, and/or write. Those things are different for everyone, but for me, a day that incorporates all those things, is a day well spent and leaves me feeling content and energized.
"Force" sounds like I'm abusing myself into doing things I never want to do, but that's not at all what I mean. The fact is that I nearly always want to do the things I listed above, but even knowing that, sometimes it's just really hard. I don't always want to do them. I don't always feel like it's worth it.
I do feel like I've finally discovered a gigantic piece of the adult puzzle that I'm wiggling into place. Parenting and adulthood have everything to do with your ability to think beyond the difficulty of the moment and into the reward of the future. As I learn to do it, I can continue improving my day-to-day life by incorporating things with short-term and long-term rewards.
This blog post brought to you by me forcing myself to write instead of nap.
I've been taking inventory of the things I've been doing even when I don't want to, because I know in the long run, I really do. Parenting, and adulting in general, can be complicated. There is a very appropriate Bible verse that I feel correctly represents what many of us feel when we give in to what we think we want only to find out, we don't:
"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." Romans 7:15
Things I force myself do, because I know I should, and I want to, just not usually at the time...:
1. Wake up with my alarm. Parenting gives me a daily run for my money. The alarm clock goes off and the lure of more sleep is as tempting as the midnight (okay, 9 p.m.) snack was the night before. Unlike the snack, I don't usually give in. The main reason? I've had too much experience being forced into the day by the cries of my children, and it is the wrong head space for the start of my day. I feel exponentially better when I wake up well before my kids and have had two cups of coffee.
2. Exercise. We all know it. We've all heard it. Exercise makes you feel better, right? Totally! But it's really hard to use that as motivation when the only time you have cuts into precious sleep. Makes you feel better? Who says? Sleep makes me feel better. That is a more accurate representation of my 5 a.m. thoughts. Nonetheless, I force myself to do it because I've experienced the way it makes me feel better, and perhaps more importantly, how not doing it makes me feel worse.
3. Pray. Another habit I've acquired because I've seen my life not doing it, and frankly, prayer makes me better. Having a sense of connection to the greater scale of life on a regular basis keeps my day in perspective. Remembering that I'm not in this crazy life alone or without purpose helps me keep things balanced.
Things I'm learning to force myself to do, because I know I should, and I want to, just not usually at the time...:
1. Take my kids outside. It is October and I have already worn a fleece blanket around as a dress over my jeans and hoodie. I don't love the cold. But I've been through enough winters to know that this is not yet the cold to come, and I should take advantage of any day the sun chooses to shine in State College, PA. In fact, even without the sun shining, I'm forcing myself to get outside with my kids. They do better, I do better, and the fresh air brings a refreshing new perspective on the day.
2. Meal plan and cook. Ugh. Meal planning. I don't know if it's worse than actually cooking the meals or not, but it's a pretty close race for me. I totally don't mind cooking when I have the time to do so. But let's face it, uninterrupted time to whip together dinner is a rarity, and I usually end up sacrificing the cleanliness of every other room in my house to do so. It pays off, but it's hard! I'm still learning how to make this one feel easier.
3. Things I love. I think there is a misconception that we should always want to do the things we love to do. We are human, and sometimes motivation and energy just run low. That said, my days are exponentially better when I force myself to run, read, and/or write. Those things are different for everyone, but for me, a day that incorporates all those things, is a day well spent and leaves me feeling content and energized.
"Force" sounds like I'm abusing myself into doing things I never want to do, but that's not at all what I mean. The fact is that I nearly always want to do the things I listed above, but even knowing that, sometimes it's just really hard. I don't always want to do them. I don't always feel like it's worth it.
I do feel like I've finally discovered a gigantic piece of the adult puzzle that I'm wiggling into place. Parenting and adulthood have everything to do with your ability to think beyond the difficulty of the moment and into the reward of the future. As I learn to do it, I can continue improving my day-to-day life by incorporating things with short-term and long-term rewards.
This blog post brought to you by me forcing myself to write instead of nap.
Friday, October 12, 2018
Fizzling Fireboxes!
This week we had an unfortunate incident involving a small kitchen fire. So as not to alarm anyone, I will clarify right off the bat that it caused no damage (except to my pride.)
The morning was unfolding as it typically does - busy with preparations of four breakfasts, a lunch to-go, and two cups of greatly watered down apple cider. All of that went off without a hitch, but we usually have two breakfast courses around our house. One that involves the kids eating whatever I give them first (usually either oatmeal or honey nut cheerios) and almond butter toast for me. Another that usually involves yogurt and berries for the kids and a nice berry breakfast bowl for me.
We're big breakfast people.
So like any normal person does, I pop my shredded coconut into the toaster oven to get nice and crisp for my berry bowl. Normally, I watch it like a hawk, because it can burn in roughly .6 seconds when unattended. This morning, however, my children were in rare (slash usual) form. They were bickering over a toy that resulted in absolutely window-breaking shrills from my son and a matched tone and firmer grip from my daughter.
Calmly, I yelled over them to stop the madness. Then I got down to their level, removed the offending toy from the situation, and explained to both of them the inappropriate nature of their behavior.
While I was busy being super mom, my coconut turned black. When I moved to grab it out, it burst into flames. Not smoldering ashes, not smoking, flames. So I'm staring at the fire contained inside my toaster oven and thinking the following:
The morning was unfolding as it typically does - busy with preparations of four breakfasts, a lunch to-go, and two cups of greatly watered down apple cider. All of that went off without a hitch, but we usually have two breakfast courses around our house. One that involves the kids eating whatever I give them first (usually either oatmeal or honey nut cheerios) and almond butter toast for me. Another that usually involves yogurt and berries for the kids and a nice berry breakfast bowl for me.
We're big breakfast people.
So like any normal person does, I pop my shredded coconut into the toaster oven to get nice and crisp for my berry bowl. Normally, I watch it like a hawk, because it can burn in roughly .6 seconds when unattended. This morning, however, my children were in rare (slash usual) form. They were bickering over a toy that resulted in absolutely window-breaking shrills from my son and a matched tone and firmer grip from my daughter.
Calmly, I yelled over them to stop the madness. Then I got down to their level, removed the offending toy from the situation, and explained to both of them the inappropriate nature of their behavior.
While I was busy being super mom, my coconut turned black. When I moved to grab it out, it burst into flames. Not smoldering ashes, not smoking, flames. So I'm staring at the fire contained inside my toaster oven and thinking the following:
- What do I do?
- What do I do?
- What do I do?
- ...Do we own a fire extinguisher?
- Should unplug something that's burning?
- Something about electrical fires.
And I'm saying, "Uh, uh, uh" and doing small tiptoe dances so that I'm ready to go when I figure out my course of action. Graciously, the kids are silent while I work through it.
Finally, I grab the tray the coconut is on (where it is proving to be excellent kindling) and I throw it into the sink, turn the water on, and watch the flames sizzle out into the small black caterpillars that remained.
Crisis averted.
My daughter had remained silent for the entire scenario. Silence for her is like... finding a four leaf clover - exciting and rare. Clearly, she was taken aback by this experience. My son also remained in stunned silence, but for him, that's pretty normal. He takes in most situations, regardless of their excitement level, just like that.
Naturally, I realize that I need a serious course in fire safety as well as to find our fire extinguisher.
This couldn't have happened in better timing as the next day we were going to my daughter's preschool for the first time ever - to learn about fire safety. And see a fire truck. Thank God, that'd be the first one my kids saw up close.
For the whole presentation I'm figuring out if there's a sly way for me to interject something like, "What should you do, just if it happened to happen that you, like, were cooking and something ignited?" But it didn't sound natural as the conversation was really about fire safety from the smoke alarm on. Talk about a missed opportunity.
Thankfully, we made it through the presentation, the crawling firemen, and the fire truck tour -complete with holding the water hose, without my daughter ratting me out. I think my son might have tried, but his version is something like: "Ma! Fi! 'Ot. Oooo" So I wasn't in much danger of someone picking up on it.
On the way home, however, my daughter peppered me with questions and comments now that she was in her comfort zone.
"Why do the firemen dress like that?"
"I don't want them to come to our house."
"That's scary, Mama. I don't like that."
"Why does the truck have to come to your house?"
"I don't like the noise that makes."
I repeated the fireman's answers (didn't you listen at all, child?) and eventually said something like, "And fires in the house are bad."
"But Mama, you started a fire."
"....yeah... " was all I came up with.
I'm thinking that this memory will be... shall we say, singed into her mind for a while.
Thursday, October 4, 2018
Back to Blogging
Remember when I said I didn't want to start blogging, because I didn't want to stop blogging and feel guilty about it?
....
Kids change a lot in six months. My baby just turned two and he now says things like, "ma day goo" when you ask him how his day was. He lights up at all things train and truck. His two-year-old birthday party had a giant bulldozer center piece on the table. If you ask him what book he wants to read he replies emphatically with "mo mo tuck! mo mo tuck!" and dashes off looking for his monster truck book. He has the whitest blond hair I've ever seen come from two brunettes. He is both compliant and outspoken depending on the circumstance. (Sister tries to steal toy: outspoken with rage. Sister asks nicely for toy: compliant, sweet, and hands it over.)
The cutest trick we taught him of late was leading up to his birthday when we asked him 150x/day how old he was going to be, to which he originally replied "figh" and held up his hand. He eventually morphed "figh" to the French word for two, deux, but still held up his entire hand, and I praised him like he'd completed elementary mathematics before his second birthday.
My daughter prefers bad company to no company and loves to be at my side at. all. times. Even if I'm in a crummy mood and snapping too much, she still wants to hang out with me. (Drat.) (JK.) (Seriously, I'm kidding. I know I'll miss it.)
She stands at the bathroom door and says, "I'll be right here in case you need me, Mama."
(Excellent.)
She asks if I want to go in the basement to do finger paint. "Wouldn't that be so fun?"
(I was thinking messy.)
She phrases all questions in a way that tries to trick you into answering 'yes,' always. "Mama, that's okay I can have more apple cider?"
(...mmm, no.)
She thinks treats come after every meal, which would bother me more, but she does consistently eat her vegetables, just in case.
(But 9 times out of 10, still no.)
She recently picked out a bath-time baby doll, whom she diligently bathed and fed with a bottle full of water every morning. For two days. And then she got freaked out by it's life-like peeing and now she skips the waterworks and throws the baby, bottomless, into her stroller and packs her up for the park. Baby dolls are her jam right now.
The aforementioned bulldozer and baby doll came from an unexpected blessing. We had some family in town and a doting great aunt gave each of the children $20 to spend on a toy at the store. They never made it to the store together, so I inherited the gift of taking them out. I wasn't sure what to expect: fits over only one toy, interest in big ticket items, the most annoying toy ever finding it's way into my home, etc. Instead, it turned out to be a fantastic gift.
If you have never taken your child into the store with the intent to purchase them a toy, I officially recommend it. I have literally never taken my kids and said, "let's buy a toy!" because we have a ridiculous amount of them. It's not even close to being necessary. However, I think we may institute the process once a year just to be able to say, 'yes.'
I learned so much on that trip to Target with $40 in hand/child's owl wallet!
1. Kids don't need the priciest thing on the shelf to be happy. We went in with $20 for each of the kids. We spent $19 and change on each toy, and came home with coins for the piggy bank. Whenever they picked something that was over $20 I just said, "Sorry, Sweetie! We don't have enough money for that one, pick a different toy." And it worked because this concept of toy picking was so new and exciting. They were both thrilled with their selections, and came away with some good birthday ideas for the things that didn't make the cut.
2. It's good to teach your kids about money. We certainly understood this for the long-term, but we have yet to implement any kind of allowance or formal chores in our family. Our kids have tasks and jobs, but they are primarily assigned at random and not performed for money. Having them understand that they had money to spend, they couldn't spend more than what they had, and to physically hand the cash over to the cashier and receive the toy in exchange was great practice.
3. I need to say 'yes' more. I am a no-machine. Sometimes I've accidentally said 'no' to something as an automatic reaction when the answer was so clearly 'yes' that it made me look like a lunatic. No treats. No television. No, I can't come with you to get your socks. No, I don't want to watch you go potty. No, I prefer to brush my own hair. No, because I don't want to clean up the mess. No, because you didn't eat your dinner. No, no, no. I want to say 'yes,' more. I want to give up a little control so that I can be the one to OFFER ice cream instead of the one who begrudgingly gives permission because they ate their peas.
Don't get me wrong: #momlife, am I right? That's what we do. We control because we care! (#newhashtag) If I don't make you eat your peas, who will?! But I refuse to go through life without enjoying my kids, on some occasions, the way those without the responsibility/privilege of raising them do.
Take $5, $10, or whatever you choose to afford, and take your kids to the store and pick out a toy you would never say 'yes' to while running an errand. Let that trip be about them on purpose. ('Cause we all know most trips usually end up about them regardless.)
If you're like me and make a habit of 'no,' take your kids out and practice saying 'yes!'
....
Kids change a lot in six months. My baby just turned two and he now says things like, "ma day goo" when you ask him how his day was. He lights up at all things train and truck. His two-year-old birthday party had a giant bulldozer center piece on the table. If you ask him what book he wants to read he replies emphatically with "mo mo tuck! mo mo tuck!" and dashes off looking for his monster truck book. He has the whitest blond hair I've ever seen come from two brunettes. He is both compliant and outspoken depending on the circumstance. (Sister tries to steal toy: outspoken with rage. Sister asks nicely for toy: compliant, sweet, and hands it over.)
The cutest trick we taught him of late was leading up to his birthday when we asked him 150x/day how old he was going to be, to which he originally replied "figh" and held up his hand. He eventually morphed "figh" to the French word for two, deux, but still held up his entire hand, and I praised him like he'd completed elementary mathematics before his second birthday.
My daughter prefers bad company to no company and loves to be at my side at. all. times. Even if I'm in a crummy mood and snapping too much, she still wants to hang out with me. (Drat.) (JK.) (Seriously, I'm kidding. I know I'll miss it.)
She stands at the bathroom door and says, "I'll be right here in case you need me, Mama."
(Excellent.)
She asks if I want to go in the basement to do finger paint. "Wouldn't that be so fun?"
(I was thinking messy.)
She phrases all questions in a way that tries to trick you into answering 'yes,' always. "Mama, that's okay I can have more apple cider?"
(...mmm, no.)
She thinks treats come after every meal, which would bother me more, but she does consistently eat her vegetables, just in case.
(But 9 times out of 10, still no.)
She recently picked out a bath-time baby doll, whom she diligently bathed and fed with a bottle full of water every morning. For two days. And then she got freaked out by it's life-like peeing and now she skips the waterworks and throws the baby, bottomless, into her stroller and packs her up for the park. Baby dolls are her jam right now.
The aforementioned bulldozer and baby doll came from an unexpected blessing. We had some family in town and a doting great aunt gave each of the children $20 to spend on a toy at the store. They never made it to the store together, so I inherited the gift of taking them out. I wasn't sure what to expect: fits over only one toy, interest in big ticket items, the most annoying toy ever finding it's way into my home, etc. Instead, it turned out to be a fantastic gift.
If you have never taken your child into the store with the intent to purchase them a toy, I officially recommend it. I have literally never taken my kids and said, "let's buy a toy!" because we have a ridiculous amount of them. It's not even close to being necessary. However, I think we may institute the process once a year just to be able to say, 'yes.'
I learned so much on that trip to Target with $40 in hand/child's owl wallet!
1. Kids don't need the priciest thing on the shelf to be happy. We went in with $20 for each of the kids. We spent $19 and change on each toy, and came home with coins for the piggy bank. Whenever they picked something that was over $20 I just said, "Sorry, Sweetie! We don't have enough money for that one, pick a different toy." And it worked because this concept of toy picking was so new and exciting. They were both thrilled with their selections, and came away with some good birthday ideas for the things that didn't make the cut.
2. It's good to teach your kids about money. We certainly understood this for the long-term, but we have yet to implement any kind of allowance or formal chores in our family. Our kids have tasks and jobs, but they are primarily assigned at random and not performed for money. Having them understand that they had money to spend, they couldn't spend more than what they had, and to physically hand the cash over to the cashier and receive the toy in exchange was great practice.
3. I need to say 'yes' more. I am a no-machine. Sometimes I've accidentally said 'no' to something as an automatic reaction when the answer was so clearly 'yes' that it made me look like a lunatic. No treats. No television. No, I can't come with you to get your socks. No, I don't want to watch you go potty. No, I prefer to brush my own hair. No, because I don't want to clean up the mess. No, because you didn't eat your dinner. No, no, no. I want to say 'yes,' more. I want to give up a little control so that I can be the one to OFFER ice cream instead of the one who begrudgingly gives permission because they ate their peas.
Don't get me wrong: #momlife, am I right? That's what we do. We control because we care! (#newhashtag) If I don't make you eat your peas, who will?! But I refuse to go through life without enjoying my kids, on some occasions, the way those without the responsibility/privilege of raising them do.
Take $5, $10, or whatever you choose to afford, and take your kids to the store and pick out a toy you would never say 'yes' to while running an errand. Let that trip be about them on purpose. ('Cause we all know most trips usually end up about them regardless.)
If you're like me and make a habit of 'no,' take your kids out and practice saying 'yes!'
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