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?
Thursday, November 8, 2018
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!'
Friday, April 6, 2018
When Your Child Grabs a Knife
I know most parents have those stories that make jaws drop and are often followed by things like, "How is your child still alive?"
Sure, they are not something we should take pride in... But they are fun to read, right?
My daughter has a bad habit of interrupting. No matter how many times I correct her, I can't seem to get her to understand that when two people are talking, it's rude to interject things such as:
"Mama, see this?" as she's sticking her tongue out doing a funny dance.
"Mama, mama, mama, mama... MAMA! Can I have this?" as she holds something she knows very well she can never have.
"Mama, I have a question. Mama, I have a question. Mama, I have a question. Mama, I have a question."
*brain exploding*
This is necessary to preface my son's life-threatening experience because it wouldn't have been cut (pun intended) so close if I wasn't ignoring my daughter trying to insert herself into my conversation with her grandma.
Another necessary preface is my son's constant desire to be climbing. I know this is common among young children, and I'm now convinced it's accentuated in young boys. My son has no respect for items which are not meant to be conquered and stood on. We have had to start keeping our chairs all tightly pushed in to avoid an 18-month-old centerpiece on our dining room table. Unfortunately, I don't always push my chair in when I get up to ... I don't know, get a napkin or something. Like most moms, I get up 100x per meal, so you can imagine the annoyance.
Cue lunch time. Naturally, the kids are done before the adults have even started so as Grandma and I filter about the kitchen cleaning up or getting our own food, the small ones are left "unattended" (less than 10 feet away.)
My daughter is incessantly trying to get my attention (a normal thing when I speak to another adult) and I was ignoring her to prove my point that badgering me will not get my attention when I'm speaking to someone.
Finally, she yells, "JOSIAH HAS A KNIFE!"
Grandma and I leap the short distance to the dining room to see a grinning jack-o-lantern with a good-sized knife he is repeatedly stabbing the table with.
I mean, thank God, he wasn't stabbing himself! There is perhaps nothing more terrifying than an unpredictable toddler wielding a weapon.
Lest you think I haven't learned my lesson, we have become much more vigilant about pushing our chairs in when said child is not secured in his highchair. Oh, and also, we leave less knives on the table.
But the real story here is I actually said the words, "Thank you for interrupting me, Sweetie."
Sure, they are not something we should take pride in... But they are fun to read, right?
My daughter has a bad habit of interrupting. No matter how many times I correct her, I can't seem to get her to understand that when two people are talking, it's rude to interject things such as:
"Mama, see this?" as she's sticking her tongue out doing a funny dance.
"Mama, mama, mama, mama... MAMA! Can I have this?" as she holds something she knows very well she can never have.
"Mama, I have a question. Mama, I have a question. Mama, I have a question. Mama, I have a question."
*brain exploding*
This is necessary to preface my son's life-threatening experience because it wouldn't have been cut (pun intended) so close if I wasn't ignoring my daughter trying to insert herself into my conversation with her grandma.
Another necessary preface is my son's constant desire to be climbing. I know this is common among young children, and I'm now convinced it's accentuated in young boys. My son has no respect for items which are not meant to be conquered and stood on. We have had to start keeping our chairs all tightly pushed in to avoid an 18-month-old centerpiece on our dining room table. Unfortunately, I don't always push my chair in when I get up to ... I don't know, get a napkin or something. Like most moms, I get up 100x per meal, so you can imagine the annoyance.
Cue lunch time. Naturally, the kids are done before the adults have even started so as Grandma and I filter about the kitchen cleaning up or getting our own food, the small ones are left "unattended" (less than 10 feet away.)
My daughter is incessantly trying to get my attention (a normal thing when I speak to another adult) and I was ignoring her to prove my point that badgering me will not get my attention when I'm speaking to someone.
Finally, she yells, "JOSIAH HAS A KNIFE!"
Grandma and I leap the short distance to the dining room to see a grinning jack-o-lantern with a good-sized knife he is repeatedly stabbing the table with.
I mean, thank God, he wasn't stabbing himself! There is perhaps nothing more terrifying than an unpredictable toddler wielding a weapon.
Lest you think I haven't learned my lesson, we have become much more vigilant about pushing our chairs in when said child is not secured in his highchair. Oh, and also, we leave less knives on the table.
But the real story here is I actually said the words, "Thank you for interrupting me, Sweetie."
Thursday, March 8, 2018
Parenthood Advocate: Part Two
As promised, I have concrete evidence behind my satirical claim to make people want kids. Part one: a friend who realized that one day they may find themselves dreaming up things to do with their free evening and end up at Sams Club followed by a diaper blow out at Chick-fil-A.
Part two involves the endless stories I can't help but vent to my big bro. I don't call him seeking out listening ears for my parental woes. Often the conversation starts as it does with any other adults; small talk, pleasantries,etc. But about 30 seconds into said pleasantries, I am forced to interject something like, "Do not crawl on the table" or "Wait until you're in the bathroom to pull your pants down" or "OH MY GOSH. STOP ASKING. I ALREADY ANSWERED YOU."
The last one is really poking the mom-bear within. For real. How many times can one be asked the same question before flipping out? Question harassment should absolutely be considered a form of mental torture. To really amplify it, the person being tortured should always be trying to do something else (preferably important: like work; or dangerous: like wielding a knife.)
So back to the story. My brother and I often enter into these conversations reasonably enough, but as one does with close family, the filters fall off and I find myself divulging just how crazy these things make me - drawing him into the euphoria of parenthood.
The question of the minute was, "Mama, do you want to play chalk with me?" The answer was a consistent, roundabout "pass." And don't try to tell me that makes me a bad mom - talking to my brother and not playing chalk with my daughter. I had black jeans on. Tell me you always agree to sitting in a colored puff whilst drying your hands out.
The chalk question morphed into a conversation between her and the moon the way only a three-year-old conversation can.
"Look, Mama! The moons out! (child giggle) What's the moon doing out in the day time? Hi, Moon! It's nice to see you, Moon. How 'bout your day? I'm just playin' chalk."
I explained to my brother the conversation going on.
"Well, there you go!" He said. "Just tell her to talk to the moon when she's bugging you with questions."
I know. He's a genius, right? Just got his PhD. He's not usually so quick with the advice, I usually leave him feeling at least slightly stressed out on my behalf. (Like the time he came to visit but our family of four was living with my in-laws and I was working from "home" full-time and I had mastitis and my son stopped sleeping and... you get it.) But this time - I left him empowered.
When he has a three year old who won't stop bugging him, he can look at his sweet little angel and tell him/her... "Sorry, Sweetie, Daddy is busy. Tell it to the moon."
Part two involves the endless stories I can't help but vent to my big bro. I don't call him seeking out listening ears for my parental woes. Often the conversation starts as it does with any other adults; small talk, pleasantries,etc. But about 30 seconds into said pleasantries, I am forced to interject something like, "Do not crawl on the table" or "Wait until you're in the bathroom to pull your pants down" or "OH MY GOSH. STOP ASKING. I ALREADY ANSWERED YOU."
The last one is really poking the mom-bear within. For real. How many times can one be asked the same question before flipping out? Question harassment should absolutely be considered a form of mental torture. To really amplify it, the person being tortured should always be trying to do something else (preferably important: like work; or dangerous: like wielding a knife.)
So back to the story. My brother and I often enter into these conversations reasonably enough, but as one does with close family, the filters fall off and I find myself divulging just how crazy these things make me - drawing him into the euphoria of parenthood.
The question of the minute was, "Mama, do you want to play chalk with me?" The answer was a consistent, roundabout "pass." And don't try to tell me that makes me a bad mom - talking to my brother and not playing chalk with my daughter. I had black jeans on. Tell me you always agree to sitting in a colored puff whilst drying your hands out.
The chalk question morphed into a conversation between her and the moon the way only a three-year-old conversation can.
"Look, Mama! The moons out! (child giggle) What's the moon doing out in the day time? Hi, Moon! It's nice to see you, Moon. How 'bout your day? I'm just playin' chalk."
I explained to my brother the conversation going on.
"Well, there you go!" He said. "Just tell her to talk to the moon when she's bugging you with questions."
I know. He's a genius, right? Just got his PhD. He's not usually so quick with the advice, I usually leave him feeling at least slightly stressed out on my behalf. (Like the time he came to visit but our family of four was living with my in-laws and I was working from "home" full-time and I had mastitis and my son stopped sleeping and... you get it.) But this time - I left him empowered.
When he has a three year old who won't stop bugging him, he can look at his sweet little angel and tell him/her... "Sorry, Sweetie, Daddy is busy. Tell it to the moon."
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Parenthood Advocate: Part One
I am a great advocate for parenthood. I really make people want to step into the bliss of raising offspring to be productive and contributing members of society. Of course, I have two concrete examples to back up this satirical fact.
Today I'll share the first.
About a year ago, probably less, I had a 2.5 year old and a not-yet-one year old. A good friend (newly pregnant) was in town visiting, and as good friends who don't have kids yet do, she was coming along on our family trip to Sam's Club. (Oh my gosh, I legitimately felt sad when I realized what I just said. These are the outings of people with kids...) So we go to Sams Club, and decide to stop at my husband's favorite restaurant on our way home. Chick-fil-A. (Again, living the life over here.)
My super good friend, who I'm appreciating more and more as I tell this story, was sitting in the backseat of our SUV wedged between two car seats. She tried to participate in the front-of-the-car conversation, but my daughter would hardly allow that. She was talking her ear off about this and that, happy to have a verbal friend in the back with her instead of just her baby bro.
On our way to Chick-fil-A, said friend says, "I think J pooped. It stinks back here." Which we acknowledged with a "haha."
She tried to drive the point home further. "Okay, I know I'm pregnant, but I'm like seriously nauseous from this smell."
"Really? I don't smell it." Nose blinders like only a parent can have.
When we arrive at our destination, we decided my husband would go inside to pick up the food. So we're sitting the car seat and she says, "No, it like really stinks. He might have pooped through his diaper." He hadn't done that in forever.
"Nah, he probably just stinks," I say. "I'll change him when we get home."
At this point, she's leaning forward trying to escape my daughter's chatter and my son's stench. My daughter has successfully grabbed my friend's hair to attempt pulling her into the backseat again.
"No, Christen, he really stinks. Ow! Layna, that's my hair."
I get out of the car, walk around back and as soon as I open the door to the back where J is sitting I can see the poop.
"Ohhhh my...." is all I can offer.
I didn't dare get him out at that point because the seat was covered so it'd do no good to change the diaper that apparently nothing landed in. Thus, my husband returned, and we drove home. Probably the longest 10 minutes of my friends life. Her body strategically maneuvered to reach as far forward as she could while my daughter continued to pepper her questions and engage her in conversation. (The "get the hint" skill isn't reached until much later in life.)
I think I can say with confidence that she didn't exit the vehicle (sideways and with great force as she tried to bypass the car seat) wishing her pregnancy would fly by. Then again, one could argue that I prepared her well for her future. As of today, she's the proud mom of a baby boy. And when the day comes for her, I'll tell her how to strategically remove the car seat cover and wash it in the washer despite the fact that it says "hand wash." Because as she'll learn, no mom has time to hand wash.
Love you, friend.
Today I'll share the first.
About a year ago, probably less, I had a 2.5 year old and a not-yet-one year old. A good friend (newly pregnant) was in town visiting, and as good friends who don't have kids yet do, she was coming along on our family trip to Sam's Club. (Oh my gosh, I legitimately felt sad when I realized what I just said. These are the outings of people with kids...) So we go to Sams Club, and decide to stop at my husband's favorite restaurant on our way home. Chick-fil-A. (Again, living the life over here.)
My super good friend, who I'm appreciating more and more as I tell this story, was sitting in the backseat of our SUV wedged between two car seats. She tried to participate in the front-of-the-car conversation, but my daughter would hardly allow that. She was talking her ear off about this and that, happy to have a verbal friend in the back with her instead of just her baby bro.
On our way to Chick-fil-A, said friend says, "I think J pooped. It stinks back here." Which we acknowledged with a "haha."
She tried to drive the point home further. "Okay, I know I'm pregnant, but I'm like seriously nauseous from this smell."
"Really? I don't smell it." Nose blinders like only a parent can have.
When we arrive at our destination, we decided my husband would go inside to pick up the food. So we're sitting the car seat and she says, "No, it like really stinks. He might have pooped through his diaper." He hadn't done that in forever.
"Nah, he probably just stinks," I say. "I'll change him when we get home."
At this point, she's leaning forward trying to escape my daughter's chatter and my son's stench. My daughter has successfully grabbed my friend's hair to attempt pulling her into the backseat again.
"No, Christen, he really stinks. Ow! Layna, that's my hair."
I get out of the car, walk around back and as soon as I open the door to the back where J is sitting I can see the poop.
"Ohhhh my...." is all I can offer.
I didn't dare get him out at that point because the seat was covered so it'd do no good to change the diaper that apparently nothing landed in. Thus, my husband returned, and we drove home. Probably the longest 10 minutes of my friends life. Her body strategically maneuvered to reach as far forward as she could while my daughter continued to pepper her questions and engage her in conversation. (The "get the hint" skill isn't reached until much later in life.)
I think I can say with confidence that she didn't exit the vehicle (sideways and with great force as she tried to bypass the car seat) wishing her pregnancy would fly by. Then again, one could argue that I prepared her well for her future. As of today, she's the proud mom of a baby boy. And when the day comes for her, I'll tell her how to strategically remove the car seat cover and wash it in the washer despite the fact that it says "hand wash." Because as she'll learn, no mom has time to hand wash.
Love you, friend.
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