Now that we have moved into a bigger home and are getting settled in, we have been trying to give the kids more responsibility. They each have weekly chores to do, and while sometimes these are met with wailing and gnashing of teeth, the kids are getting more and more adjusted to the idea that they, too, must clean up after themselves.
Joshua is actually the least of these complainers, because Joshua likes order. He likes things to be in place. If he had his own room, it would be clean most of the time. (It's his little brother who is the King of Chaos.) He also genuinely likes his main chore, which is to clean the bathroom. He's also been the one to take us up on our offer of some paying jobs. We have a few gigs around the house that we have offered to the kids as a way to earn some extra spending money. Joshua recently earned a door-hanging basketball goal for his efforts. Hard worker, that one.
And yet...I cannot help but notice that an 8 year old boy's version of "clean" and his mother's version of clean seems to have some wide discrepancies. Joshua will swear up and down that a room is clean, and he isn't lying - it really is clean in his eyes. It's just really, really not in mine.
To that end, I have created the following list, An 8 Year Old Boy's Guide to Cleaning:
1. If you don't actually see the dirt, then it's not actually there. Therefore the fastest way to clean a room is to take a sideways glance at it. Out of sight, out of mind, not on floor.
2. The stuff that's been pushed to the edges of a room doesn't really count. Only the expanse in the middle of the floor is important.
3. Touching dirt or other items with a broom or other such cleaning device counts as having cleaned it. The actual removal of the dirt is unnecessary. For further clarification, see rule #1.
4. If you sweep a room, you get to count it as swept and done as soon as you make that little dirt pile in the middle of the room. Sweeping THAT up into a dustpan is just window dressing.
5. When swatting flies in the house during the summertime, it is perfectly acceptable - even admirable - to leave their little carcasses littered on the floor as evidence of your great victories.
6. When clearing the table, you don't actually have to clear EVERYTHING off the table. Just most of it. You know, to get the general idea.
7. Toothpaste on the bathroom mirror is a permanent fixture and not necessary to wipe off.
8. When you have cleaned the bathroom, you are done once you have doused everything in cleaner. Drying the fixtures and putting away the cleaning supplies is superfluous.
9. It makes absolute and total sense to sweep the floor and THEN wipe off the counters. Don't let anyone try to talk some nonsense about those crumbs you knocked on the floor. If you don't look down, they aren't really there. (See rule #1 again)
And finally...
10. If at first you don't succeed...disappear into the backyard where Mom can't find you. Chances are she will get tired of these "teachable moments" and just redo the job herself.
And yes...that has happened.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
It's Good to Have Goals
This one is much more light-hearted than the last one, I promise.
Anna has been very concerned lately with what she is going to do with her life. For some reason, she is distressed that this isn't settled, although I have reassured her many times that she has plenty of time to figure this out - very few people have declared their major by the first grade. (And some people, like her father, change their majors five times or more in college, so really it's all relative.) But she persists in wanting to figure this out.
For the past year or two, she has insisted she wants to be an animal doctor. I actually can see her doing this one day as she is a total nature freak and loves every living creature she comes into contact with. She is against smashing bugs in our house, she wants them rescued and taken outside. She is also annoyed with me because I won't let her bring the roly-pollies in the house.
However, she has been in a very "I wanna be like Mommy" mode lately. She wants us to wear matching clothes, matching nail polish, and do everything the same. Everything. All of the things. So it didn't really come as much of a surprise that she announced a few weeks ago that she didn't want to be an animal doctor anymore, she wanted to be a teacher. Ok, cool Anna. Whatever. You're still six. Dream big, but you've got plenty of time.
Then, about two weeks ago, she announced that she didn't know exactly what she wanted to do, but she had narrowed it down to three options: animal doctor, teacher, or McDonald's worker. I told her that her father had once worked at McDonald's, and she responded, absolutely shocked: "REALLY? WHY DID HE STOP?!" (I am sure visions of free Happy Meals were dancing in her head.) I told her that it didn't pay very much, and that deflated her McDonald's dream a little bit. Then I told her that the workers didn't get to eat the food for free, that they still had to buy it. That pretty much killed the McDonald's idea.
Today she announced that she WAS going to be an animal doctor, and when she lost that job (not quit, lost), she was going to be a teacher, and after that she was going to be a pizza maker and deliver pizza.
It's good to have goals, little one. Dream on.
Anna has been very concerned lately with what she is going to do with her life. For some reason, she is distressed that this isn't settled, although I have reassured her many times that she has plenty of time to figure this out - very few people have declared their major by the first grade. (And some people, like her father, change their majors five times or more in college, so really it's all relative.) But she persists in wanting to figure this out.
For the past year or two, she has insisted she wants to be an animal doctor. I actually can see her doing this one day as she is a total nature freak and loves every living creature she comes into contact with. She is against smashing bugs in our house, she wants them rescued and taken outside. She is also annoyed with me because I won't let her bring the roly-pollies in the house.
However, she has been in a very "I wanna be like Mommy" mode lately. She wants us to wear matching clothes, matching nail polish, and do everything the same. Everything. All of the things. So it didn't really come as much of a surprise that she announced a few weeks ago that she didn't want to be an animal doctor anymore, she wanted to be a teacher. Ok, cool Anna. Whatever. You're still six. Dream big, but you've got plenty of time.
Then, about two weeks ago, she announced that she didn't know exactly what she wanted to do, but she had narrowed it down to three options: animal doctor, teacher, or McDonald's worker. I told her that her father had once worked at McDonald's, and she responded, absolutely shocked: "REALLY? WHY DID HE STOP?!" (I am sure visions of free Happy Meals were dancing in her head.) I told her that it didn't pay very much, and that deflated her McDonald's dream a little bit. Then I told her that the workers didn't get to eat the food for free, that they still had to buy it. That pretty much killed the McDonald's idea.
Today she announced that she WAS going to be an animal doctor, and when she lost that job (not quit, lost), she was going to be a teacher, and after that she was going to be a pizza maker and deliver pizza.
It's good to have goals, little one. Dream on.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Why We Can't Blame Jenny McCarthy
In 2007, Jenny McCarthy went on Oprah and gave an interview in which she blamed vaccines for making her son autistic. She wasn't the first person to make this connection - it began in the 1990s with a doctor named Andrew Wakefield who first starting publishing articles claiming a link between vaccines and the disease. Despite the revelation that Dr. Wakefield had falsified his data and been paid off to make his claims, the rumors ran rampant, and the vaccination scare exploded, spurred on by Ms. McCarthy's campaign and others in the movement to stop or at least change vaccinations. (An interesting timeline of events can be found here.) Suddenly droves of mothers were questioning their doctors and refusing to have their children vaccinated, especially with the MMR vaccination.
Up to this point, diseases like measles had all but been eliminated in the this country. Chicken pox and mumps were well on their way to suffering the same fate as smallpox and polio. However, suddenly everyone was panicked. Mothers took to the blogworld to rant against professional medicine. You could not get on any social network site without being bombarded with angry posts about vaccinations. As the panic spread, so did the diseases, and now we are facing an increase in these almost eradicated illnesses in numbers we have not seen in decades. What's more, every study done anywhere is disproving any link between vaccinations and autism. As quickly as the panic spread, the backlash against Jenny McCarthy and others in her crusade has become just as fierce. You now cannot get on any social networking site without people trashing Ms. McCarthy as an ignorant blonde villain. The same people who wanted to follow her anywhere two years ago are now using language to describe her that would get my children's mouths washed out with soap.
I had my babies in 2006, 2007, and 2010. (That sentence exhausts me just typing it.) I therefore was having to make vaccination decisions right in the thick of all this mess. At the time, the Mommy Media World was doing what it does best - trying to make me and every other mother out there feel guilty and inadequate as a mom in order to sell more magazines and get more hits on websites. It felt like if I decided to vaccinate my children, I was physically opening their minds and pumping them full of autism myself.
And then, as quickly as it all began, it ended. And here we are.
So...why did it happen in the first place? Why did we listen to Jenny McCarthy and others, and why do we vilify them now?
Because we ARE Jenny McCarthy. We ARE moms trying to make the best decisions for our children. And we ARE struggling with that monster that faces every parent of every race and creed:
We are afraid.
Parenting is scary. It is tremendously frightening. There is the ever constant fear, somewhere in the background of your mind, that Something Bad is going to happen to your child. Disease. Accident. Fire. Kidnapping. SIDS. Rape. Murder. I am all too familiar with this fear. The fear is ever present because, the truth is, there are no guarantees. I don't know what's going to happen today, or even tomorrow. My oldest was the same age as the kids who were killed at Sandy Hook. That was a bad weekend for me. When Hailey Owens was kidnapped right off her own street a few months back, I had to resist the urge to lock my daughter in her room until she was 25. My youngest son has a friend his age who developed an infection in his leg and nearly died several times. Parenting is a frightening venture. Anything could happen to your child at any time - and sometimes does.
We deal with another fear as parents. It's not just the fear that something will happen to your child. It's the fear that something will happen and it will be your fault. What if I could have prevented it? What if I caused it? What if some decision I make causes my child to die? What if I choose to vaccinate my kid and he shows signs of autism? What if I slide down the slide at the park with my toddler on my lap and she breaks her leg? What if I spray sunscreen on my son and he inhales chemicals and stops breathing? What if I give my kid peanut butter for the first time and she swells up and chokes? WHAT IF I KILL MY OWN KID SOMEHOW?!
The culture we live in feeds this. As I said earlier, parenting magazines and websites are absolutely banking on this fear and guilt thing we have going on. I quit reading parenting magazines sometime around my middle child's second birthday. I was tired of reading them and walking away feeling like a bad parent. The other day I picked up a magazine while waiting in the doctor's office. 10 minutes later, I had found five articles aimed at making me feel like everything I was doing was wrong, and I put the thing down. Social media also feeds this frenzy. We post articles supporting our own opinions. We go on rants behind the safety of a screen name. We are very, very vocal in a digital way about how we think parenting ought to go, often because we are so unsure of our own jobs as parents that we feel the need to make ourselves feel better by rallying others to our cause. Parents these days are absolutely bombarded with stats, studies, warnings, recalls, opinion pieces, and "experts" that weigh in on everything from vaccinations to car seats to discipline methods. We are challenged on a daily basis that we might not be doing things right - usually from someone who is trying to reassure themselves that what they are doing is ok.
And so here comes Jenny McCarthy with her fame and influence telling us all that vaccinations are hurting our children. And we all start to panic and play the "what if?" game. We turn to the fear that comes with being a parent and we listen to someone who is also afraid. Then comes the blogs and the studies and the rants and the social media explosion. And then the dust settles and we all feel pretty silly...and take that shame out on another parent. Nobody made anyone listen to Ms. McCarthy or anyone else. Nobody makes us read the articles. Nobody is pointing any guns or other weaponry at our heads and saying "don't vaccinate your kid OR ELSE." We fell for it, same as Jenny McCarthy did. We gave in to our fear and fell for it.
And we have no one to blame but ourselves.
So where do we go from here?
One, we have to stop being afraid. We have to stop living in fear for our children and ourselves. I personally do not know how parents who do not have a faith in God get out of bed in the morning. If I did not have that Place to take my fear and give it up on a daily - sometimes hourly - basis, I wouldn't be able to function. We have to stop living in fear. Take that fear to the cross every day and lay it down. Christ died to take away that and a million other fears. Take Him up on the offer.
The other thing we have to stop doing is vilifying each other as parents. Whether it's someone famous like Jenny McCarthy or your next door neighbor who lets their kids drink pop, quit making villains out of parents. You know what? Overall, we're doing a good job. So we need to quit hollering at each other in an attempt to make ourselves feel better and instead support one another. If someone preaches something you don't agree with, just don't agree with them. In peace. The parenting community needs to stop tearing each other down and start holding each other up. The world IS a scary place. We need each other.
As for Jenny McCarthy...I do not know her and probably never will. But she's a mom trying to do what she thinks is best for her kid. So let's cut her some slack and show some grace. Tomorrow it could be me that turns out to be wrong about everything I know. Or it could be you.
So let's have some respect for that, shall we?
Up to this point, diseases like measles had all but been eliminated in the this country. Chicken pox and mumps were well on their way to suffering the same fate as smallpox and polio. However, suddenly everyone was panicked. Mothers took to the blogworld to rant against professional medicine. You could not get on any social network site without being bombarded with angry posts about vaccinations. As the panic spread, so did the diseases, and now we are facing an increase in these almost eradicated illnesses in numbers we have not seen in decades. What's more, every study done anywhere is disproving any link between vaccinations and autism. As quickly as the panic spread, the backlash against Jenny McCarthy and others in her crusade has become just as fierce. You now cannot get on any social networking site without people trashing Ms. McCarthy as an ignorant blonde villain. The same people who wanted to follow her anywhere two years ago are now using language to describe her that would get my children's mouths washed out with soap.
I had my babies in 2006, 2007, and 2010. (That sentence exhausts me just typing it.) I therefore was having to make vaccination decisions right in the thick of all this mess. At the time, the Mommy Media World was doing what it does best - trying to make me and every other mother out there feel guilty and inadequate as a mom in order to sell more magazines and get more hits on websites. It felt like if I decided to vaccinate my children, I was physically opening their minds and pumping them full of autism myself.
And then, as quickly as it all began, it ended. And here we are.
So...why did it happen in the first place? Why did we listen to Jenny McCarthy and others, and why do we vilify them now?
Because we ARE Jenny McCarthy. We ARE moms trying to make the best decisions for our children. And we ARE struggling with that monster that faces every parent of every race and creed:
We are afraid.
Parenting is scary. It is tremendously frightening. There is the ever constant fear, somewhere in the background of your mind, that Something Bad is going to happen to your child. Disease. Accident. Fire. Kidnapping. SIDS. Rape. Murder. I am all too familiar with this fear. The fear is ever present because, the truth is, there are no guarantees. I don't know what's going to happen today, or even tomorrow. My oldest was the same age as the kids who were killed at Sandy Hook. That was a bad weekend for me. When Hailey Owens was kidnapped right off her own street a few months back, I had to resist the urge to lock my daughter in her room until she was 25. My youngest son has a friend his age who developed an infection in his leg and nearly died several times. Parenting is a frightening venture. Anything could happen to your child at any time - and sometimes does.
We deal with another fear as parents. It's not just the fear that something will happen to your child. It's the fear that something will happen and it will be your fault. What if I could have prevented it? What if I caused it? What if some decision I make causes my child to die? What if I choose to vaccinate my kid and he shows signs of autism? What if I slide down the slide at the park with my toddler on my lap and she breaks her leg? What if I spray sunscreen on my son and he inhales chemicals and stops breathing? What if I give my kid peanut butter for the first time and she swells up and chokes? WHAT IF I KILL MY OWN KID SOMEHOW?!
The culture we live in feeds this. As I said earlier, parenting magazines and websites are absolutely banking on this fear and guilt thing we have going on. I quit reading parenting magazines sometime around my middle child's second birthday. I was tired of reading them and walking away feeling like a bad parent. The other day I picked up a magazine while waiting in the doctor's office. 10 minutes later, I had found five articles aimed at making me feel like everything I was doing was wrong, and I put the thing down. Social media also feeds this frenzy. We post articles supporting our own opinions. We go on rants behind the safety of a screen name. We are very, very vocal in a digital way about how we think parenting ought to go, often because we are so unsure of our own jobs as parents that we feel the need to make ourselves feel better by rallying others to our cause. Parents these days are absolutely bombarded with stats, studies, warnings, recalls, opinion pieces, and "experts" that weigh in on everything from vaccinations to car seats to discipline methods. We are challenged on a daily basis that we might not be doing things right - usually from someone who is trying to reassure themselves that what they are doing is ok.
And so here comes Jenny McCarthy with her fame and influence telling us all that vaccinations are hurting our children. And we all start to panic and play the "what if?" game. We turn to the fear that comes with being a parent and we listen to someone who is also afraid. Then comes the blogs and the studies and the rants and the social media explosion. And then the dust settles and we all feel pretty silly...and take that shame out on another parent. Nobody made anyone listen to Ms. McCarthy or anyone else. Nobody makes us read the articles. Nobody is pointing any guns or other weaponry at our heads and saying "don't vaccinate your kid OR ELSE." We fell for it, same as Jenny McCarthy did. We gave in to our fear and fell for it.
And we have no one to blame but ourselves.
So where do we go from here?
One, we have to stop being afraid. We have to stop living in fear for our children and ourselves. I personally do not know how parents who do not have a faith in God get out of bed in the morning. If I did not have that Place to take my fear and give it up on a daily - sometimes hourly - basis, I wouldn't be able to function. We have to stop living in fear. Take that fear to the cross every day and lay it down. Christ died to take away that and a million other fears. Take Him up on the offer.
The other thing we have to stop doing is vilifying each other as parents. Whether it's someone famous like Jenny McCarthy or your next door neighbor who lets their kids drink pop, quit making villains out of parents. You know what? Overall, we're doing a good job. So we need to quit hollering at each other in an attempt to make ourselves feel better and instead support one another. If someone preaches something you don't agree with, just don't agree with them. In peace. The parenting community needs to stop tearing each other down and start holding each other up. The world IS a scary place. We need each other.
As for Jenny McCarthy...I do not know her and probably never will. But she's a mom trying to do what she thinks is best for her kid. So let's cut her some slack and show some grace. Tomorrow it could be me that turns out to be wrong about everything I know. Or it could be you.
So let's have some respect for that, shall we?
Thursday, February 27, 2014
No, Seriously, It's Not Your Fault
I have not updated this blog in months. Life seems to have gotten in the way. I keep wanting to, but then stuff happens, like house buying, and mothers in the ICU, and insane work issues, and husbands losing their jobs, and projectile vomiting. But I need to get back to recording those precious moments in the life of my family that I don't want to forget.
And I can't imagine a better moment with which to fire things back up.
To preface: I recently got my husband a puppy for his birthday. A Gerbarian Shepsky, to be exact. Half German Shepherd, half Siberian Husky, totally cute, and very, very much a puppy. I am sure Mercy the puppy will make many an appearance on this blog in the years to come. She's quite a character. Today, for example, she got ahold of our phone charger and chewed it to smithereens. Sean and I were discussing this mishap when the following conversation happened.
For the record...Matthew had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Mercy ate the charger. He wasn't even home when it happened.
Sean: "Well, the dog chewed up our phone charger."
Matthew: "I DIDN'T DO IT! I DIDN'T LET MERCY CHEW THE PHONE CHARGER!"
Me: "No, Matthew, it wasn't your fault, don't worry!"
Matthew: "Ok, fine. I did it. I'm sorry!"
Sean: "No, Matthew, it wasn't you. You didn't do it."
Matthew: "YES I DID! IT WAS ME! IT WAS MY FAULT! I'M THE ONE!"
Read back over that again. He went from denying it altogether with indignation, to confessing and apologizing for something he didn't do, to indignantly declaring that, doggoneit, it was him!
When you're four years old and the youngest in the family, I guess you do what you have to do to take credit and gain notoriety and a place in the world where you can get it.
Even if you didn't actually do it.
And I can't imagine a better moment with which to fire things back up.
To preface: I recently got my husband a puppy for his birthday. A Gerbarian Shepsky, to be exact. Half German Shepherd, half Siberian Husky, totally cute, and very, very much a puppy. I am sure Mercy the puppy will make many an appearance on this blog in the years to come. She's quite a character. Today, for example, she got ahold of our phone charger and chewed it to smithereens. Sean and I were discussing this mishap when the following conversation happened.
For the record...Matthew had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Mercy ate the charger. He wasn't even home when it happened.
Sean: "Well, the dog chewed up our phone charger."
Matthew: "I DIDN'T DO IT! I DIDN'T LET MERCY CHEW THE PHONE CHARGER!"
Me: "No, Matthew, it wasn't your fault, don't worry!"
Matthew: "Ok, fine. I did it. I'm sorry!"
Sean: "No, Matthew, it wasn't you. You didn't do it."
Matthew: "YES I DID! IT WAS ME! IT WAS MY FAULT! I'M THE ONE!"
Read back over that again. He went from denying it altogether with indignation, to confessing and apologizing for something he didn't do, to indignantly declaring that, doggoneit, it was him!
When you're four years old and the youngest in the family, I guess you do what you have to do to take credit and gain notoriety and a place in the world where you can get it.
Even if you didn't actually do it.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Clever Girl
*Bonus points if you read the title in a British accent, a la Jurassic Park.
Anna, my little naturalist, loves to catch fireflies. She would do it every night if we let her. Unfortunately for her, fireflies only come out when it gets dark, which is past her bedtime. This means it has to be a night when we are willing to let her go to bed late. That doesn't happen often, so when it does, it is, in her word "THE BEST NIGHT EVER!!!"
Recently, I was out of town for a week, so Sean had the kids on his own. Daddy is a sucker for his daughter's big blue eyes, so she managed to convince him to let her stay up late and chase fireflies. Joshua was staying the night at a friend's house, so it was just Daddy, Anna and Matthew outside.
Matthew likes to chase fireflies, but he gets bored with it pretty fast. After a while, he asked Sean if they could play hide n seek instead.
"Matthew," Anna said sternly, "we are CATCHING FIREFLIES, NOT playing hide n seek!"
Frustrated, Matthew pouted for a while, and then he tried asking again. Anna considered her brother for a moment and then decided to try a different tack.
"Matthew, I know what we can do!" she said. "We can play a game!"
"A GAME?" Matthew asked eagerly, intrigued by the notion of a new game."
"YES," Anna said grinning, "a SEARCHING game."
"A SEARCHING game?!" Matthew asked excitedly.
"Yes. It's a game where we search for things. And I will pick the first thing we will search for. First we will search for...FIREFLIES."
"YAY!!!!" exclaimed my naive little toddler, and off he ran with his sister to play the searching "game."
One way or another, Anna knows how to get what she wants!
Anna, my little naturalist, loves to catch fireflies. She would do it every night if we let her. Unfortunately for her, fireflies only come out when it gets dark, which is past her bedtime. This means it has to be a night when we are willing to let her go to bed late. That doesn't happen often, so when it does, it is, in her word "THE BEST NIGHT EVER!!!"
Recently, I was out of town for a week, so Sean had the kids on his own. Daddy is a sucker for his daughter's big blue eyes, so she managed to convince him to let her stay up late and chase fireflies. Joshua was staying the night at a friend's house, so it was just Daddy, Anna and Matthew outside.
Matthew likes to chase fireflies, but he gets bored with it pretty fast. After a while, he asked Sean if they could play hide n seek instead.
"Matthew," Anna said sternly, "we are CATCHING FIREFLIES, NOT playing hide n seek!"
Frustrated, Matthew pouted for a while, and then he tried asking again. Anna considered her brother for a moment and then decided to try a different tack.
"Matthew, I know what we can do!" she said. "We can play a game!"
"A GAME?" Matthew asked eagerly, intrigued by the notion of a new game."
"YES," Anna said grinning, "a SEARCHING game."
"A SEARCHING game?!" Matthew asked excitedly.
"Yes. It's a game where we search for things. And I will pick the first thing we will search for. First we will search for...FIREFLIES."
"YAY!!!!" exclaimed my naive little toddler, and off he ran with his sister to play the searching "game."
One way or another, Anna knows how to get what she wants!
Monday, July 15, 2013
Folks, I Just Can't Make This Stuff Up
About two weeks ago, Matthew had gotten into a bad habit of opening the silverware drawer, pulling out everything he could find, and strewing the utensils about the house. Being my "do-the-crime-do-the-time" kid, no amount of discipline seemed to deter him from this new hobby. What did stop him, however, was somehow managing to jam the drawer shut. It has therefore been about two weeks since we were able to get into that drawer. We have been using whatever utensils were in the drainer at the time, which has cut down on dishes, but is pretty darn annoying.
In a seemingly unrelated event, last night we all went to church for our small group time. I run a bible study for our youth group girls, and they all decided they wanted to go to McDonald's for our study. My husband had the keys to our van - which I needed in order to transport the girls - so I had to interrupt the men's small group to ask my husband for the keys. Our pastor, upon realizing I would likely be stopping at our house on the way to the van (we live in the parsonage next door to the church), said "Oh, she's going home, give her the fork!" At this point, Sean reached into his bag and pulled out one of our forks. From our silverware collection. From our house. I didn't really have time to question his as to why he had a fork in his bag; I could only shake my head in disbelief at the craziness that goes on in my house.
I also did not have time to stop at the house and put the fork away. I had five hungry teenage girls piling into my car. So I did what seemed to be the most logical thing to do at the time: I stuck the fork in the mailbox on my way to the van.
Fast forward to tonight. I was setting the table for dinner and came up short a fork. Realizing the drawer was still jammed shut tight, I mulled about what to do, when suddenly the events of last night popped into my head. I walked out the front door, reached into the mailbox, pulled out the fork, washed it, and finished setting the table.
I am quite certain these are the sorts of things that do NOT go on at other people's houses.
In a seemingly unrelated event, last night we all went to church for our small group time. I run a bible study for our youth group girls, and they all decided they wanted to go to McDonald's for our study. My husband had the keys to our van - which I needed in order to transport the girls - so I had to interrupt the men's small group to ask my husband for the keys. Our pastor, upon realizing I would likely be stopping at our house on the way to the van (we live in the parsonage next door to the church), said "Oh, she's going home, give her the fork!" At this point, Sean reached into his bag and pulled out one of our forks. From our silverware collection. From our house. I didn't really have time to question his as to why he had a fork in his bag; I could only shake my head in disbelief at the craziness that goes on in my house.
I also did not have time to stop at the house and put the fork away. I had five hungry teenage girls piling into my car. So I did what seemed to be the most logical thing to do at the time: I stuck the fork in the mailbox on my way to the van.
Fast forward to tonight. I was setting the table for dinner and came up short a fork. Realizing the drawer was still jammed shut tight, I mulled about what to do, when suddenly the events of last night popped into my head. I walked out the front door, reached into the mailbox, pulled out the fork, washed it, and finished setting the table.
I am quite certain these are the sorts of things that do NOT go on at other people's houses.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Space is AWESOME!
We got Joshua a telescope for his birthday this year. His birthday was in March, and it was freezing cold outside, so we didn't really get it out much. This week, however, is the week of the supermoon, so we decided it was an opportune time to get it out and figure out how it worked.
Last night we managed to get it working, but tonight we couldn't find the moon anywhere. Right as we were packing up the telescope, we saw it peeking out from over the tops of the trees, bright and glowing as promised. We didn't want to go to all the trouble of getting all the pieces back out, and we couldn't see it well from our yard because of the trees, so I told Joshua to grab his shoes and we would take a walk.
Hand in hand, I walked down the street with my 7-year old son, 9:30 at night, watching the sky and getting a good view of the astronomical phenomenon of the supermoon. Once we found a good spot, we took a few pictures and looked at it through his binoculars, eliciting from him one of my favorite responses ever: "Space is AWESOME!" We then walked back to the house, hand in hand, talking about space, and what he wanted to be when her grew up (a firefighter), his sister, school, his friend's telescope, and, well, little bits and pieces of everything.
On the surface it didn't look like much. The whole encounter took maybe 15 minutes. But tonight was one of the most precious moments I have had as a mom. I had the privilege of sharing in my son's joy as he discovered more about the world around him. I got to talk to him as a person, not a little kid, as we talked about real things. It wasn't a cutesy conversation with "funny things kids say." It was a real moment of connecting with him as the person God created him to be - an explorer, an adventurer, curious, questioning, and eager to discover.
It was also a reminder that Joshua is getting older - but it didn't make me sad. Sometimes, if I look at old photos or flip through old blog entries, I miss Baby Joshua. I miss that time when it was just him and me, and I took him everywhere. I miss carrying him and cuddling with him and smelling his baby-scent. But tonight, I didn't miss it. Tonight I saw a glimpse into the boy he is becoming - and has, in fact, become. Tonight I enjoyed Joshua as Joshua and soaked in the joy of a shared experience with him. It was an experience we could both be excited about and understand together.
I will never again go look at the moon or see the stars in the sky without feeling the excitement of a 7-year old boy enjoying a night of discovery and exploration...and remembering how wonderful it truly is to see my tiny baby become a full-grown boy.
You know what? Space is awesome.
Last night we managed to get it working, but tonight we couldn't find the moon anywhere. Right as we were packing up the telescope, we saw it peeking out from over the tops of the trees, bright and glowing as promised. We didn't want to go to all the trouble of getting all the pieces back out, and we couldn't see it well from our yard because of the trees, so I told Joshua to grab his shoes and we would take a walk.
Hand in hand, I walked down the street with my 7-year old son, 9:30 at night, watching the sky and getting a good view of the astronomical phenomenon of the supermoon. Once we found a good spot, we took a few pictures and looked at it through his binoculars, eliciting from him one of my favorite responses ever: "Space is AWESOME!" We then walked back to the house, hand in hand, talking about space, and what he wanted to be when her grew up (a firefighter), his sister, school, his friend's telescope, and, well, little bits and pieces of everything.
On the surface it didn't look like much. The whole encounter took maybe 15 minutes. But tonight was one of the most precious moments I have had as a mom. I had the privilege of sharing in my son's joy as he discovered more about the world around him. I got to talk to him as a person, not a little kid, as we talked about real things. It wasn't a cutesy conversation with "funny things kids say." It was a real moment of connecting with him as the person God created him to be - an explorer, an adventurer, curious, questioning, and eager to discover.
It was also a reminder that Joshua is getting older - but it didn't make me sad. Sometimes, if I look at old photos or flip through old blog entries, I miss Baby Joshua. I miss that time when it was just him and me, and I took him everywhere. I miss carrying him and cuddling with him and smelling his baby-scent. But tonight, I didn't miss it. Tonight I saw a glimpse into the boy he is becoming - and has, in fact, become. Tonight I enjoyed Joshua as Joshua and soaked in the joy of a shared experience with him. It was an experience we could both be excited about and understand together.
I will never again go look at the moon or see the stars in the sky without feeling the excitement of a 7-year old boy enjoying a night of discovery and exploration...and remembering how wonderful it truly is to see my tiny baby become a full-grown boy.
You know what? Space is awesome.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Hide and Seek
Parents often adopt different roles within the family. In our family, Mom has the read-a-story, cuddle-time, make-the-meals, give-the-permission role. Dad has the go-outside and get-on-the-floor-and-romp-around role. Thus as soon as Sean gets home, the kids immediately start hitting him up for game time. The most popular among these is the classic Hide N Seek.
The other day, I overheard such a game in play. This particular game, however, has some interesting variations. For one thing, Joshua has managed to contract the Summer Cold that Won't End, so he was laid up on the couch and couldn't get up and hide. He therefore became the all-time counter for whoever was seeking at the time. (Love it when they work these things out!)
After that was established, I overheard Anna say "Ok! Ruby is hiding!" This becomes more intriguing once you know that Ruby was a roly-poly that Anna found outside and was keeping in a cardboard box. Apparently Anna was hiding the box when it was her turn to hide and Daddy was required to find not only Anna, but Ruby's box as well.
That would have been a funny enough story, but then I overheard this conversation:
Matthew: "It's Crinkletype Ozzlestein's turn to count!"
Dad: "Crinkletype Ozzlestein is going to count and seek us?"
Matthew: "YES!"
Dad: "How is that going to work?"
Matthew: "He's going to count to 25!"
Dad: "But how?"
Matthew: "He's going to do it FAST!"
This conversation becomes hilarious once you know who Crinkletype Ozzlestein* is. C.O. is, in fact, the kids' stuffed gorilla. Who apparently was going to count to 25 and then come find everyone. (For the record, the standard count for H & S in our house is 20. I am not sure why. C.O. had to count five more than everyone else. I am also not sure why Matthew insisted that C.O. do the counting and not Joshua - I believe Sean tried to get him to let Joshua do it.)
I walked into the living room to find Anna, Matthew, and a bewildered Daddy crouched down and hiding behind the furniture, waiting for the gorilla to come find them.
There's no such thing as a normal game of Hide n Seek in this house!
*For the record, Crinkletype Ozzlestein was named by Daddy. There is also a Crinkletype Ozzlestein, Jr.
The other day, I overheard such a game in play. This particular game, however, has some interesting variations. For one thing, Joshua has managed to contract the Summer Cold that Won't End, so he was laid up on the couch and couldn't get up and hide. He therefore became the all-time counter for whoever was seeking at the time. (Love it when they work these things out!)
After that was established, I overheard Anna say "Ok! Ruby is hiding!" This becomes more intriguing once you know that Ruby was a roly-poly that Anna found outside and was keeping in a cardboard box. Apparently Anna was hiding the box when it was her turn to hide and Daddy was required to find not only Anna, but Ruby's box as well.
That would have been a funny enough story, but then I overheard this conversation:
Matthew: "It's Crinkletype Ozzlestein's turn to count!"
Dad: "Crinkletype Ozzlestein is going to count and seek us?"
Matthew: "YES!"
Dad: "How is that going to work?"
Matthew: "He's going to count to 25!"
Dad: "But how?"
Matthew: "He's going to do it FAST!"
This conversation becomes hilarious once you know who Crinkletype Ozzlestein* is. C.O. is, in fact, the kids' stuffed gorilla. Who apparently was going to count to 25 and then come find everyone. (For the record, the standard count for H & S in our house is 20. I am not sure why. C.O. had to count five more than everyone else. I am also not sure why Matthew insisted that C.O. do the counting and not Joshua - I believe Sean tried to get him to let Joshua do it.)
I walked into the living room to find Anna, Matthew, and a bewildered Daddy crouched down and hiding behind the furniture, waiting for the gorilla to come find them.
There's no such thing as a normal game of Hide n Seek in this house!
*For the record, Crinkletype Ozzlestein was named by Daddy. There is also a Crinkletype Ozzlestein, Jr.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
THAT'S NOT A REAL BUNNY
Our family recently took a family vacation to another state, and while we were there we visited the mall to look for shoes for my husband. (Because we couldn't buy shoes at home? I don't know, somehow you feel freer to spend money on vacation.)
While walking through the mall, our kids spotted an Easter Bunny set up to take pictures with kids. Now, we don't do the Easter Bunny with our kids, so they don't have much of a grid for it, but what kid is going to just walk by a 6 foot giant bunny wearing a three-piece suit? So off they ran to check out the bunny. Anna (She-Who-Knows-No-Strangers) ran right up to it and gave it a big hug. Joshua kinda glanced it over and then walked off to look at something else. (He's very cool these days, you know.) Matthew's reaction, however, was one for the history books.
He started to walk up to the bunny to say hi, and then he suddenly stopped at stared at it, cocking his head like he was trying to figure something out. Then his eyes got really big and a look of realization spread across his face, and as he pointed his little finger at the bunny, he yelled with all the righteous indignation that his 3-year old body could muster:
"THAT'S NOT A REAL BUNNY! THAT'S A PERSON!"
He ran up to Sean and me screaming this statement over and over, and then ran back to the bunny, pointing and yelling so we would all understand the FRAUD he had uncovered. He knew what was up, and he was not going to be taken in, by golly - that was NOT REAL BUNNY, that was a PERSON!
After Sean and I stopped rolling around laughing, we collected up our fighter for truth and justice and headed on down the mall. But the story was not over - after all, in a mall, you walk by everything not once, but twice.
And it was on the way back that things got real.
As we walked back through the mall, Matthew spotted that fradulent bunny once more, and HE had HAD ENOUGH. He ran right up to the bunny and pointed and screamed again "THAT IS NOT A REAL BUNNY! THAT IS A PERSON!" Then he came right up close to the bunny and whispered something to it. I wasn't right there to hear what it was, but I imagine the tone of it was something like this:
"You may have fooled all these other kids, but you haven't fooled me. I know what you're up to, and you will not get away with this tomfoolery. I'm onto you, pal."
Then he turned tail to walk away, and as he was headed off, he spotted the bunny's large basket of candy. Sensing his moment to right the wrong, he then proceeded to grab the bunny's basket of candy and take off with it.
Sean managed to catch the little rebel before he got too far with his spoils. Matthew was disappointed that he didn't wind up with a basketful of candy from this deal, but his point had been made: he had exposed the fraud of that bunny for all the world to see and taken his revenge.
Matthew: Protector of Truth for Kids Everywhere!
While walking through the mall, our kids spotted an Easter Bunny set up to take pictures with kids. Now, we don't do the Easter Bunny with our kids, so they don't have much of a grid for it, but what kid is going to just walk by a 6 foot giant bunny wearing a three-piece suit? So off they ran to check out the bunny. Anna (She-Who-Knows-No-Strangers) ran right up to it and gave it a big hug. Joshua kinda glanced it over and then walked off to look at something else. (He's very cool these days, you know.) Matthew's reaction, however, was one for the history books.
He started to walk up to the bunny to say hi, and then he suddenly stopped at stared at it, cocking his head like he was trying to figure something out. Then his eyes got really big and a look of realization spread across his face, and as he pointed his little finger at the bunny, he yelled with all the righteous indignation that his 3-year old body could muster:
"THAT'S NOT A REAL BUNNY! THAT'S A PERSON!"
He ran up to Sean and me screaming this statement over and over, and then ran back to the bunny, pointing and yelling so we would all understand the FRAUD he had uncovered. He knew what was up, and he was not going to be taken in, by golly - that was NOT REAL BUNNY, that was a PERSON!
After Sean and I stopped rolling around laughing, we collected up our fighter for truth and justice and headed on down the mall. But the story was not over - after all, in a mall, you walk by everything not once, but twice.
And it was on the way back that things got real.
As we walked back through the mall, Matthew spotted that fradulent bunny once more, and HE had HAD ENOUGH. He ran right up to the bunny and pointed and screamed again "THAT IS NOT A REAL BUNNY! THAT IS A PERSON!" Then he came right up close to the bunny and whispered something to it. I wasn't right there to hear what it was, but I imagine the tone of it was something like this:
"You may have fooled all these other kids, but you haven't fooled me. I know what you're up to, and you will not get away with this tomfoolery. I'm onto you, pal."
Then he turned tail to walk away, and as he was headed off, he spotted the bunny's large basket of candy. Sensing his moment to right the wrong, he then proceeded to grab the bunny's basket of candy and take off with it.
Sean managed to catch the little rebel before he got too far with his spoils. Matthew was disappointed that he didn't wind up with a basketful of candy from this deal, but his point had been made: he had exposed the fraud of that bunny for all the world to see and taken his revenge.
Matthew: Protector of Truth for Kids Everywhere!
Friday, December 21, 2012
The Most Precious Conversation I Have Ever Had
On the way home from daycare tonight...
I color-coded the names for ease of reading.
Anna: "Jesus' birthday is coming!"
Me: "Yes it is, Anna!"
Anna: "I've been trying to figure out what to get Jesus for His birthday."
Me: "Uh...yeah? What do you think He wants?"
Anna: "I don't know! I've been thinking about it."
Me: "Huh."
Anna: "Maybe I'll wrap up this candy cane from my sleigh!*"
Me: "Ok! How are you going to wrap it?"
Anna: "I'll put it in a box and wrap it up!"
Me: "Ok...then what are you going to do?"
Anna: "I'll keep it till I get to heaven and give it to Him!"
Me: "Well ok then! Where should we keep it in the meantime?"
Anna: "Up on the white shelf."
Me: "Are you going to make one every year? There's going to be a lot of boxes."
Joshua (the know-it-all): "You know, He can hear you right now!"
Anna (still on the arrangements): "Maybe we can set it out and maybe Jesus will open it."
Me: "Will you be there when He does?"
Anna: "Well, maybe He will open it at night! And I'll set one out every year!"
Joshua (louder this time): "HE CAN HEAR YOU HE IS EVERYWHERE!"
Matthew: "Jesus is not here!"
Me: "Sure He is, Matthew!"
Joshua: "Jesus is EVERYWHERE!"
Matthew: "He's EVERYWHERE?!"
Joshua: "So how is it going to be a surprise? He knows what you're saying right now!"
Anna (distressed): "Oh no! I want it to be a surprise! How can I make it a surprise?"
Me (perhaps playing with theology a bit, but what can one do?): "Umm, maybe we can ask him not to look?"
Anna: "Yeah, we can do that!"
Joshua: "But He HAS to look!"
Anna: "No, that's what we'll do! We'll ask Him not to look while I wrap up His present."
I. Love. My. Children.
*They received candy sleighs from their daycare today. They included candy canes glued to a big candy bar.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Christmas 2012
Things Overheard at Our House...Christmas-Style
"IT'S A CHRISTMAS TREE!!" - Matthew
"Every Christmas tree needs a penguin!" - Anna
Mommy: "Did we find all the pieces to the Nativity set?"
Joshua: "We have some shepherds, a piece of Wise Man, and no Baby Jesus."
"PICKLE TIME! PICKLE TIME! PICKLE TIME!" - Matthew
Daddy: "Matthew, do you know why you had a time-out?"
Matthew: "You and Mommy told me to stop saying pickle time."
"You know what would be a good topper? Joshua, go get your Mets hat!" - Daddy
"Hey! Maybe there's gonna be a PINATA for Christmas!" - Joshua
"I think maybe Baby Jesus needs a haircut." - Anna
"IT'S A CHRISTMAS TREE!!" - Matthew
"Every Christmas tree needs a penguin!" - Anna
Mommy: "Did we find all the pieces to the Nativity set?"
Joshua: "We have some shepherds, a piece of Wise Man, and no Baby Jesus."
"PICKLE TIME! PICKLE TIME! PICKLE TIME!" - Matthew
Daddy: "Matthew, do you know why you had a time-out?"
Matthew: "You and Mommy told me to stop saying pickle time."
"You know what would be a good topper? Joshua, go get your Mets hat!" - Daddy
"Hey! Maybe there's gonna be a PINATA for Christmas!" - Joshua
"I think maybe Baby Jesus needs a haircut." - Anna
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Storytime
The kids wanted to tell stories at dinner tonight...
Anna:
One time there was a prince and a princess. She was so lost that her mom couldn’t find her. And then, a fairy princess came. And then a fairy godmother came. The fairy godmother waved her wand and and sent her to Dinosaurville. One day, in Dinosaurville, there was mean dinosaurs, and then there was a nice little dinosaur named Timmy and he gave her ride through the corn and there was a scarecrow. And that little girl was named Anna. And they came back to her mom. And then they lived happily ever after. The end. That’s the whole story.
Joshua:
One day there was a dinosaur named Joshua. The dinosaur went to a giant chicken, and it was named Daddy. And then the water buffalo Anna went to the dinosaur named Joshua and then Joshua stomped on the big giant chicken Daddy. And the water buffalo named Anna went to meet the dinosaur Joshua. And then the dinosaur said “where’s the giant chicken Daddy? Uh, he’s under me,” the dinosaur said. And the giant chicken Daddy went under the dinosaur foot and got the water buffalo out. And they all lived happily ever after. The End.
Matthew:
There was a snowman named Dad. Then there was a big peanut butter throwing snow. The snowman named Dad smashed the big peanut butter. The end.
Anna:
One time there was a prince and a princess. She was so lost that her mom couldn’t find her. And then, a fairy princess came. And then a fairy godmother came. The fairy godmother waved her wand and and sent her to Dinosaurville. One day, in Dinosaurville, there was mean dinosaurs, and then there was a nice little dinosaur named Timmy and he gave her ride through the corn and there was a scarecrow. And that little girl was named Anna. And they came back to her mom. And then they lived happily ever after. The end. That’s the whole story.
Joshua:
One day there was a dinosaur named Joshua. The dinosaur went to a giant chicken, and it was named Daddy. And then the water buffalo Anna went to the dinosaur named Joshua and then Joshua stomped on the big giant chicken Daddy. And the water buffalo named Anna went to meet the dinosaur Joshua. And then the dinosaur said “where’s the giant chicken Daddy? Uh, he’s under me,” the dinosaur said. And the giant chicken Daddy went under the dinosaur foot and got the water buffalo out. And they all lived happily ever after. The End.
Matthew:
There was a snowman named Dad. Then there was a big peanut butter throwing snow. The snowman named Dad smashed the big peanut butter. The end.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Dinner Table Talk
The following are snippets of conversation from our family dinner tonight...
Anna: "I had a dream last night that Daddy took us out for ice cream and got Matthew some and Joshua and I didn't get any!"
Matthew: "Yeah! Me too!"
Anna: "No, Matthew, you got ice cream, Joshua and I didn't get any"
Joshua: "WHEN?!"
***
Joshua: "Once upon a time, there was a video camera that got eaten by a chicken."
***
Daddy: "So if there's a fire, you get out of the house and go to the ramp."
Joshua: "And I grab my toys on the way out!"
Daddy: "NO, you just get out, do NOT stop for your toys!"
Anna: "What if I'm holding my toys when there's a fire? Can I take them with me?"
Daddy: "Yes, if you're holding them, you can take them with you."
Anna: "What if I drop them?"
Daddy: "Then don't pick them up."
Matthew (suddenly grabbing Daddy's neck): "I DON'T WANNA BURN MY LITTLE FINGER!"
***
Matthew suddenly grabbed my head and pulled it towards his. I said "Matthew, what are you doing?" He paused for a moment and then answered "I don't know!"
***
Anna: "What if there's a fire and you guys are gone somewhere like...Colorado?"
Mommy: "Why are we in Colorado?"
Daddy: "And why did we leave the children by themselves?"
(We might point out that we have never been in Colorado during the entire course of our marriage or Anna's lifetime.)
It is never, ever dull around here.
Anna: "I had a dream last night that Daddy took us out for ice cream and got Matthew some and Joshua and I didn't get any!"
Matthew: "Yeah! Me too!"
Anna: "No, Matthew, you got ice cream, Joshua and I didn't get any"
Joshua: "WHEN?!"
***
Joshua: "Once upon a time, there was a video camera that got eaten by a chicken."
***
Daddy: "So if there's a fire, you get out of the house and go to the ramp."
Joshua: "And I grab my toys on the way out!"
Daddy: "NO, you just get out, do NOT stop for your toys!"
Anna: "What if I'm holding my toys when there's a fire? Can I take them with me?"
Daddy: "Yes, if you're holding them, you can take them with you."
Anna: "What if I drop them?"
Daddy: "Then don't pick them up."
Matthew (suddenly grabbing Daddy's neck): "I DON'T WANNA BURN MY LITTLE FINGER!"
***
Matthew suddenly grabbed my head and pulled it towards his. I said "Matthew, what are you doing?" He paused for a moment and then answered "I don't know!"
***
Anna: "What if there's a fire and you guys are gone somewhere like...Colorado?"
Mommy: "Why are we in Colorado?"
Daddy: "And why did we leave the children by themselves?"
(We might point out that we have never been in Colorado during the entire course of our marriage or Anna's lifetime.)
It is never, ever dull around here.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Stories Told 'Round the Dinner Table Tonight
All three kids wanted to tell a story tonight. These are the stories they told when it was their turn.
Anna:
"Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess named Anna. Then there was a big mean water buffalo named Joshua that hit the princess. Then there was a chicken named Matthew who kissed it and put a band-aid on it. The water buffalo went to jail and the princess and the chicken lived happily ever after ever on a cupcake. The end."
Joshua:
"The water buffalo named me ate the Princess Anna, and the cereal chicken named Matthew punched the King Daddy. The Queen Mommy ran, and the Princess was alive again. The Queen Mommy ran to eat the Princess Anna again. And the Princess came alive again and the Cereal Chicken Matthew kissed the beautiful princess and the Princess was like 'oh, that's so cute, Cereal Chicken.' And the Cereal Chicken kicked the beautiful Princess even though he liked her because she wanted to be flying so she can pray to God while she's flying. And then the Princess kicked a piggy bank and the piggy bank goes like 'OH I AM SO MAD AT YOU.' The end!"
Matthew:
"Can I have another muffin?"
Anna:
"Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess named Anna. Then there was a big mean water buffalo named Joshua that hit the princess. Then there was a chicken named Matthew who kissed it and put a band-aid on it. The water buffalo went to jail and the princess and the chicken lived happily ever after ever on a cupcake. The end."
Joshua:
"The water buffalo named me ate the Princess Anna, and the cereal chicken named Matthew punched the King Daddy. The Queen Mommy ran, and the Princess was alive again. The Queen Mommy ran to eat the Princess Anna again. And the Princess came alive again and the Cereal Chicken Matthew kissed the beautiful princess and the Princess was like 'oh, that's so cute, Cereal Chicken.' And the Cereal Chicken kicked the beautiful Princess even though he liked her because she wanted to be flying so she can pray to God while she's flying. And then the Princess kicked a piggy bank and the piggy bank goes like 'OH I AM SO MAD AT YOU.' The end!"
Matthew:
"Can I have another muffin?"
Monday, September 17, 2012
Tales From Potty Training
Warning: this entry talks a lot about bodily functions. I type the word poop far more often that I have ever desired to.
We are in the throes of potty training Child #3 at the moment. Matthew is 2 1/2 and is right in the middle of the process. I should mention here that I hate, hate, HATE potty training. You gotta do it, they gotta learn it, but man, it is SO FRUSTRATING. Two steps forward and one step back, over and over and over again. In the grand scheme of childhood, it really doesn't last very long, but in the moment, it feels like you will be rinsing out poopy underwear for the REST OF YOUR LIFE.
True to form, each one of the children has approached the process in a unique way. Joshua was very methodical. We set up a reward chart with stickers and trips to the Dollar Tree and all the trimmings. He liked the process and he liked staying clean. What he did NOT like was "being stinky" - that is, going poop in the potty. He would wait every night till we put his nighttime diaper on him to do that business. It was frustrating, but he eventually broke free of that. The last hurdle was overnights, and that took him quite a while - into his kindergarten year. (Someday, he will hate that this is published.) He has finally arrived at the point of bathroom independence, and we couldn't be happier.
Anna, of course, had no method to her madness. She was all over the place. She took forever to get trained just because we couldn't quite nail down her pattern - being Anna, her typical pattern was no pattern at all. She eventually figured it out, and oddly enough, she got the nighttime thing a whole lot faster - she just started Pre-K, but she is completely diaper free. Who-hoo!
And then there is Matthew.
This brings us to our story of the night.
Matthew, the laid back one, really just can't care less what is in his pants. He's doing all right with the #1 process, although the adult in charge generally has to be the initiator and take him every hour. The problem lies in the #2 area. Unlike Joshua, who hated being dirty, and Anna, who would often cry at her perceived "failure," Matthew has absolutely no problem just going ahead and doing his business right in his pants. Not only that, he usually won't get around to telling us about the problem - we have to discover it on our own. After all, no skin off his nose, or any other part of him, for that matter.
So tonight I discovered that he had, once again, used his underwear as his own personal toilet, and I hauled him into the bathroom for the cleanup and post-poop analysis. Sean followed us in for support.
"Matthew," he said in his best Daddy voice, "where do we go pee and poop?"
"In the big boy potty," Matthew said happily.
(At this point I had to start coughing to cover up the laughter because, dangit, he's just so cute.)
"Yes Matthew," I chimed in "and did you make a good choice or a bad choice?"
"Bad choice," he answered nonchalantly.
"Matthew," Daddy continued, "we want you to make the good choice. It makes us sad when you choose to poop in your big boy pants."
At which point Matthew answered:
"But it makes ME happy!"
At which point I had to dive behind the shower curtain to hide the fact that I was busting a gut trying not to laugh.
Matthew started giggling. He thought the whole thing was hilarious.
Daddy hung his head in dispair.
We'll get there...I know we will...in time...
Just not tonight!
We are in the throes of potty training Child #3 at the moment. Matthew is 2 1/2 and is right in the middle of the process. I should mention here that I hate, hate, HATE potty training. You gotta do it, they gotta learn it, but man, it is SO FRUSTRATING. Two steps forward and one step back, over and over and over again. In the grand scheme of childhood, it really doesn't last very long, but in the moment, it feels like you will be rinsing out poopy underwear for the REST OF YOUR LIFE.
True to form, each one of the children has approached the process in a unique way. Joshua was very methodical. We set up a reward chart with stickers and trips to the Dollar Tree and all the trimmings. He liked the process and he liked staying clean. What he did NOT like was "being stinky" - that is, going poop in the potty. He would wait every night till we put his nighttime diaper on him to do that business. It was frustrating, but he eventually broke free of that. The last hurdle was overnights, and that took him quite a while - into his kindergarten year. (Someday, he will hate that this is published.) He has finally arrived at the point of bathroom independence, and we couldn't be happier.
Anna, of course, had no method to her madness. She was all over the place. She took forever to get trained just because we couldn't quite nail down her pattern - being Anna, her typical pattern was no pattern at all. She eventually figured it out, and oddly enough, she got the nighttime thing a whole lot faster - she just started Pre-K, but she is completely diaper free. Who-hoo!
And then there is Matthew.
This brings us to our story of the night.
Matthew, the laid back one, really just can't care less what is in his pants. He's doing all right with the #1 process, although the adult in charge generally has to be the initiator and take him every hour. The problem lies in the #2 area. Unlike Joshua, who hated being dirty, and Anna, who would often cry at her perceived "failure," Matthew has absolutely no problem just going ahead and doing his business right in his pants. Not only that, he usually won't get around to telling us about the problem - we have to discover it on our own. After all, no skin off his nose, or any other part of him, for that matter.
So tonight I discovered that he had, once again, used his underwear as his own personal toilet, and I hauled him into the bathroom for the cleanup and post-poop analysis. Sean followed us in for support.
"Matthew," he said in his best Daddy voice, "where do we go pee and poop?"
"In the big boy potty," Matthew said happily.
(At this point I had to start coughing to cover up the laughter because, dangit, he's just so cute.)
"Yes Matthew," I chimed in "and did you make a good choice or a bad choice?"
"Bad choice," he answered nonchalantly.
"Matthew," Daddy continued, "we want you to make the good choice. It makes us sad when you choose to poop in your big boy pants."
At which point Matthew answered:
"But it makes ME happy!"
At which point I had to dive behind the shower curtain to hide the fact that I was busting a gut trying not to laugh.
Matthew started giggling. He thought the whole thing was hilarious.
Daddy hung his head in dispair.
We'll get there...I know we will...in time...
Just not tonight!
Monday, August 27, 2012
Where's Matthew?
Mommyhood is a fun place. Many, many humorous things happen. Obviously, this blog is evidence of that fact. Hilarity ensues all around us.
However, then there are those times that are not at all funny. There are those times that make your heart stop beating for just a moment and fill you with fear and shame and terror all at the same time to degrees unfathomable before the arrival of children.
Tonight was one of those nights.
I was making dinner while Sean took the kids outside to play. When I started to set the table, I hollered out back for everyone to come in and wash up. A few moments later, Joshua came bounding in, jabbering away about school and this and that. Anna came in shortly after having some sort of emotional crisis - I honestly don't remember what it was, she is at the age where everything is DRAMA. While I was talking to her in the living room, Sean appeared in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. We chatted back and forth for a few minutes about dinner and whatnot. Then came the words that stopped us in our tracks:
Sean asked "Where's Matthew?"
I stared back at him and said "I haven't seen him, what do you mean, where is he?"
Sean replied, "No, I sent him in with Anna."
I answered back, "I have not seen him, I thought he was in the kitchen behind you."
A split second that lasted a lifetime passed between us as we realized that, at that moment, we had no idea where our two-year-old son was.
This was bad enough in itself, but our panic was enhanced by three specific facts:
1. We live on one of the busiest streets in our town.
2. Our "driveway" is actually a parking lot shared with a grocery store.
3. Our house backs up to an alley through which people regularly shoot in and out without looking where they are going.
Sean immediately shot out the back door, while I was at the front door in two strides. Anna and Joshua, sensing the urgency of the moment, followed their father. As I gripped the front door handle, I heard a sound that simultaneously brought both senses of relief and horror - the unmistakable sound of a toddler sobbing in fear.
I wrenched the door open and, sure enough, there was Matthew, his little tear-stained face staring up at me with an expression I never want to see again.
As I scooped him up, he clung to me, and cried out in between sobs: "You YEFT me!" (Translation: "You LEFT me!")
I brought him in the house, shouting to the others that he had been found. Sean came bounding over, absolutely grief-stricken. Matthew looked up and him and cried out, hiccupping with sobs "YOU DIDN'T COME BACK FOR ME!"
Through the cries and the soothing, we pieced together what had happened. Sean told Anna and Matthew to go inside and, thinking that they had, turned around to pick up the toys. Matthew waited for his daddy, but then Daddy, thinking Matthew was already inside, headed in without him, leaving the little guy in the yard by himself, wondering what to do next.
We held Matthew together until he got squirmy and asked if he could go eat dinner now. Then Sean and I had to hold and soothe each other. (If you think of it, pray for my husband - he feels totally guilty about the whole thing, and I don't want it to haunt him.)
So...not our finest moment of parenting. I still shake a little thinking back on it, but writing about it is therapeutic, and it gives me the chance to reflect back and think so, God...what do you want me to see?
(Besides the obvious - always know where your toddler is!)
As I look back on it, I marvel on how my daily prayers for protection for my children are answered. This was just an incident I know about - what about all those times I won't know about, this side of heaven? Dangers face our children each and every day. Sometimes they are from our own mistakes, and sometimes they are just part of the world in which we live. I remember the first day I was home alone with Joshua as an infant - I literally froze in fear on my bed holding him, and we sat there for two hours while I thought of every horror that could come to him. It about did me in right then and there - and I only had one child!
Our children are not our own. They belong to God first and foremost. We can create the safest, most nurturing environment imaginable - one in which our toddler would NEVER be accidently left outside - and still, trouble can befall us. And the fact is...we are not perfect. Accidents happen. We think our child is one place when he is in another. We forget to buckle their seatbelts or hold their hand while crossing the street.
We also cannot shield them from all fear. I never want to see that kind of fear on the face of any of my children ever again. But I can't promise that won't happen. I can't make it not happen. The truth is, they will feel fear and pain in this world. I can't keep them from it.
So - what do we do? Do we stay paralyzed on the bed, refusing to move with our infants in our arms, hoping to keep them from all harm?
No.
We slowly crawl off the edge of the bed and walk around the house. We let them crawl on the floor. We take them outside to play and let them run and learn and grow.
And how do we do that without gasping in fear for their lives?
We learn to let go and give it to God.
I do not know how any mother gets through a single moment of their day without having a trust in God. I really do not know how that could be possible. The only reason I am able to get up in the morning and breathe through my day is that I trust that, no matter what happens, ultimately God has my family in the palm of His hand, and there is no safer place to be. No matter what terror may come, no matter what horror befalls our family, God's way is the best way, and I have to trust Him utterly with the lives of my children, or else I can't move. I'd be sick every day, worrying that something would happen. I'd lock the door and hold them in and never let them out into the world to fulfill the priceless destinies they have.
I choose to trust in the Lord my God and His plans for my children. He gave them as gifts to me and my husband - and we choose to surrender them back to Him. This does not guarantee nothing bad will ever happen to them. It doesn't even guarantee that we will never make a mistake again. But it does guarantee that, no matter what, my God has my children in the palm of His hands. There is no better place in any world for them.
I choose to lay down my claim to their lives and trust in God alone for their safety.
And finally, I choose to leave this blog and go curl up with my two-year-old, who is at this moment safely snuggled in my bed next to his daddy - a daddy I would not trade for all the daddies in the world. I choose to curl up by his side, kiss his face, smell his sleep-scent, and go to sleep, thanking God that I get the privilege of being Matthew's Mom for one more day.
It's more than I could ever hope to ask for.
Where's Matthew?
He's in the arms of His Heavenly Father, and I would have it no other way.
However, then there are those times that are not at all funny. There are those times that make your heart stop beating for just a moment and fill you with fear and shame and terror all at the same time to degrees unfathomable before the arrival of children.
Tonight was one of those nights.
I was making dinner while Sean took the kids outside to play. When I started to set the table, I hollered out back for everyone to come in and wash up. A few moments later, Joshua came bounding in, jabbering away about school and this and that. Anna came in shortly after having some sort of emotional crisis - I honestly don't remember what it was, she is at the age where everything is DRAMA. While I was talking to her in the living room, Sean appeared in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. We chatted back and forth for a few minutes about dinner and whatnot. Then came the words that stopped us in our tracks:
Sean asked "Where's Matthew?"
I stared back at him and said "I haven't seen him, what do you mean, where is he?"
Sean replied, "No, I sent him in with Anna."
I answered back, "I have not seen him, I thought he was in the kitchen behind you."
A split second that lasted a lifetime passed between us as we realized that, at that moment, we had no idea where our two-year-old son was.
This was bad enough in itself, but our panic was enhanced by three specific facts:
1. We live on one of the busiest streets in our town.
2. Our "driveway" is actually a parking lot shared with a grocery store.
3. Our house backs up to an alley through which people regularly shoot in and out without looking where they are going.
Sean immediately shot out the back door, while I was at the front door in two strides. Anna and Joshua, sensing the urgency of the moment, followed their father. As I gripped the front door handle, I heard a sound that simultaneously brought both senses of relief and horror - the unmistakable sound of a toddler sobbing in fear.
I wrenched the door open and, sure enough, there was Matthew, his little tear-stained face staring up at me with an expression I never want to see again.
As I scooped him up, he clung to me, and cried out in between sobs: "You YEFT me!" (Translation: "You LEFT me!")
I brought him in the house, shouting to the others that he had been found. Sean came bounding over, absolutely grief-stricken. Matthew looked up and him and cried out, hiccupping with sobs "YOU DIDN'T COME BACK FOR ME!"
Through the cries and the soothing, we pieced together what had happened. Sean told Anna and Matthew to go inside and, thinking that they had, turned around to pick up the toys. Matthew waited for his daddy, but then Daddy, thinking Matthew was already inside, headed in without him, leaving the little guy in the yard by himself, wondering what to do next.
We held Matthew together until he got squirmy and asked if he could go eat dinner now. Then Sean and I had to hold and soothe each other. (If you think of it, pray for my husband - he feels totally guilty about the whole thing, and I don't want it to haunt him.)
So...not our finest moment of parenting. I still shake a little thinking back on it, but writing about it is therapeutic, and it gives me the chance to reflect back and think so, God...what do you want me to see?
(Besides the obvious - always know where your toddler is!)
As I look back on it, I marvel on how my daily prayers for protection for my children are answered. This was just an incident I know about - what about all those times I won't know about, this side of heaven? Dangers face our children each and every day. Sometimes they are from our own mistakes, and sometimes they are just part of the world in which we live. I remember the first day I was home alone with Joshua as an infant - I literally froze in fear on my bed holding him, and we sat there for two hours while I thought of every horror that could come to him. It about did me in right then and there - and I only had one child!
Our children are not our own. They belong to God first and foremost. We can create the safest, most nurturing environment imaginable - one in which our toddler would NEVER be accidently left outside - and still, trouble can befall us. And the fact is...we are not perfect. Accidents happen. We think our child is one place when he is in another. We forget to buckle their seatbelts or hold their hand while crossing the street.
We also cannot shield them from all fear. I never want to see that kind of fear on the face of any of my children ever again. But I can't promise that won't happen. I can't make it not happen. The truth is, they will feel fear and pain in this world. I can't keep them from it.
So - what do we do? Do we stay paralyzed on the bed, refusing to move with our infants in our arms, hoping to keep them from all harm?
No.
We slowly crawl off the edge of the bed and walk around the house. We let them crawl on the floor. We take them outside to play and let them run and learn and grow.
And how do we do that without gasping in fear for their lives?
We learn to let go and give it to God.
I do not know how any mother gets through a single moment of their day without having a trust in God. I really do not know how that could be possible. The only reason I am able to get up in the morning and breathe through my day is that I trust that, no matter what happens, ultimately God has my family in the palm of His hand, and there is no safer place to be. No matter what terror may come, no matter what horror befalls our family, God's way is the best way, and I have to trust Him utterly with the lives of my children, or else I can't move. I'd be sick every day, worrying that something would happen. I'd lock the door and hold them in and never let them out into the world to fulfill the priceless destinies they have.
I choose to trust in the Lord my God and His plans for my children. He gave them as gifts to me and my husband - and we choose to surrender them back to Him. This does not guarantee nothing bad will ever happen to them. It doesn't even guarantee that we will never make a mistake again. But it does guarantee that, no matter what, my God has my children in the palm of His hands. There is no better place in any world for them.
I choose to lay down my claim to their lives and trust in God alone for their safety.
And finally, I choose to leave this blog and go curl up with my two-year-old, who is at this moment safely snuggled in my bed next to his daddy - a daddy I would not trade for all the daddies in the world. I choose to curl up by his side, kiss his face, smell his sleep-scent, and go to sleep, thanking God that I get the privilege of being Matthew's Mom for one more day.
It's more than I could ever hope to ask for.
Where's Matthew?
He's in the arms of His Heavenly Father, and I would have it no other way.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Oh, My Mistake...
Mom: "Good night, Mr. First Grader."
Joshua: "I am NOT a first grader."
Mom: "You're not?"
Joshua: "You THINK I am, but I'm NOT."
Mom: "Then what are you?"
Joshua: "A FIREFIGHTER."
Oh. My bad.
Joshua: "I am NOT a first grader."
Mom: "You're not?"
Joshua: "You THINK I am, but I'm NOT."
Mom: "Then what are you?"
Joshua: "A FIREFIGHTER."
Oh. My bad.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Superheroes
One of the kids' favorite games to play is "Spiderman." This means they all take on different Superhero roles and try to attack Daddy and Joshua. Some of the roles they tend to take on are Spidergirl (Anna), Spiderman (Matthew), Dr. Octopus (Joshua) and Green Blob (Daddy...this is a takeoff of the Green Goblin...that's a long story).
Tonight they were playing the game and had taken on these common roles. I can only hear snippets of the game while I make dinner, but here is what I overheard...
(After lots of sounds of shouts and squeals and death battles)
Green Blob: "Hey! Your pet triceratops is eating me!"
Spidergirl: "I'm sorry! Can't we just get along?"
Green Blob: "Ummm...ok."
Spidergirl: "Let's be friends, ok?"
Green Blob: "Okay!"
Spidergirl: "We'll be friends FOREVER!"
Dr. Octopus: "This is NOT HAPPENING."
In retribution, Dr. Octopus declared he was hiding Green Blob's invitation to the Superhero party, which GB had received as a result of becoming friends with Spidergirl. But that turned out ok, because Spidergirl had an extra invitation. Dr. Octopus cried "NOOOOOO!!!" and yanked the extra invitation away. Spidergirl then responded "that's ok! I have LOTS of invitations!"
Then Spiderman brought Buzz Lightyear (the actual action figure) into the game and started whacking Buzz on various pieces of furniture and, occasionally, the superheroes in play.
And that's what goes on in our house while I make dinner.
Tonight they were playing the game and had taken on these common roles. I can only hear snippets of the game while I make dinner, but here is what I overheard...
(After lots of sounds of shouts and squeals and death battles)
Green Blob: "Hey! Your pet triceratops is eating me!"
Spidergirl: "I'm sorry! Can't we just get along?"
Green Blob: "Ummm...ok."
Spidergirl: "Let's be friends, ok?"
Green Blob: "Okay!"
Spidergirl: "We'll be friends FOREVER!"
Dr. Octopus: "This is NOT HAPPENING."
In retribution, Dr. Octopus declared he was hiding Green Blob's invitation to the Superhero party, which GB had received as a result of becoming friends with Spidergirl. But that turned out ok, because Spidergirl had an extra invitation. Dr. Octopus cried "NOOOOOO!!!" and yanked the extra invitation away. Spidergirl then responded "that's ok! I have LOTS of invitations!"
Then Spiderman brought Buzz Lightyear (the actual action figure) into the game and started whacking Buzz on various pieces of furniture and, occasionally, the superheroes in play.
And that's what goes on in our house while I make dinner.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Bittersweetness
This morning marked the end of our summer. An end to sleeping in (ha! Like my kids know how to do that!). An end to swimming lessons, library day, and going to the YMCA. An end to reading Elephant and Piggie books and making Lego creations.
It also marks the end of forced naptimes, figuring out what to make for lunch, a destroyed house, and Mommy wanting to pull her hair out when Daddy calls and says "I need to stay late."
It marks the beginning of a new adventure. Yes, I worked last year. But that was student teaching and para work. I am not belittling AT ALL the roles of student teachers and paras - both work very hard. But it still kinda felt like I was "playing" teacher - and it was in town. This year, I have a real, live teaching position, and it's 30 minutes away. It's a whole new ballgame.
For the last couple of weeks, I have been looking forward to this day. To starting the new path God has for our family. To beginning a career that I have have worked towards for so long. And, honestly, to see a break to what was starting to feel like the endless monotony of summer with the kids. I was ready for something different.
Until I dropped them off at the sitter's.
That, my friends, was one of the hardest things I have had to do in a while.
Joshua, my big tough six-year-old, got a funny look on his face and kept looking away, rubbing his eyes. Anna clung to me and said "I want to stay with you!" Matthew...well, Matthew honestly didn't care, he told me to go. But even that was hard to see. I drove away not with a feeling of newness or refreshing...but with a sense of sadness. I know they will be fine. We love our sitter, she's a gift from the Lord. They have lots of fun over there. Joshua will start 1st grade next week, so he wouldn't even be home even if I was. Anna starts Pre-K in a few weeks. They will soon be swept up into the new routine, and we will settle into the next stage of our family.
Sean and I have prayed over all this. We have sought God's direction. We know this job is from Him, we know He has provided this sitter, we know this is where He has our family going. It's an exciting time in our house.
But this morning...bittersweet.
It also marks the end of forced naptimes, figuring out what to make for lunch, a destroyed house, and Mommy wanting to pull her hair out when Daddy calls and says "I need to stay late."
It marks the beginning of a new adventure. Yes, I worked last year. But that was student teaching and para work. I am not belittling AT ALL the roles of student teachers and paras - both work very hard. But it still kinda felt like I was "playing" teacher - and it was in town. This year, I have a real, live teaching position, and it's 30 minutes away. It's a whole new ballgame.
For the last couple of weeks, I have been looking forward to this day. To starting the new path God has for our family. To beginning a career that I have have worked towards for so long. And, honestly, to see a break to what was starting to feel like the endless monotony of summer with the kids. I was ready for something different.
Until I dropped them off at the sitter's.
That, my friends, was one of the hardest things I have had to do in a while.
Joshua, my big tough six-year-old, got a funny look on his face and kept looking away, rubbing his eyes. Anna clung to me and said "I want to stay with you!" Matthew...well, Matthew honestly didn't care, he told me to go. But even that was hard to see. I drove away not with a feeling of newness or refreshing...but with a sense of sadness. I know they will be fine. We love our sitter, she's a gift from the Lord. They have lots of fun over there. Joshua will start 1st grade next week, so he wouldn't even be home even if I was. Anna starts Pre-K in a few weeks. They will soon be swept up into the new routine, and we will settle into the next stage of our family.
Sean and I have prayed over all this. We have sought God's direction. We know this job is from Him, we know He has provided this sitter, we know this is where He has our family going. It's an exciting time in our house.
But this morning...bittersweet.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Swimming Lessons
Today marks the last day of a two-week journey in our household...swimming lessons. This was our first year with all three kids in lessons. Last year Matthew and I hung out in the shade trying to stay cool while Joshua and Anna had their first-time swimmers' class. This year we joined in the fun with the Parent-Tot class. It was fun. It was a good experience. It was a wonderful chance to get great quality time with Matthew, just him and me. It was an important opportunity for both Anna and Joshua to learn they can do things they've never tried before, like putting their face in the water or jumping off the diving boards. It was an incredibly important thing for the kids to do as we want them to learn to be good swimmers.
It was exhausting. I'm glad it's over.
During the past two weeks, I have made a number of observations and learned some remarkable things, and to that end, I give you the Swimming Lessons Lessons of 2012:
1. I am the only parent my age to not have a tattoo. This is said neither as a judgment nor as a statement of regret. Just an observation.
2. There are women who have children the age of my own that not only have 10 different bikinis to wear but the body to go in them. DANG.
3. A four-year-old girl - who can sit for hours of PBS Kids without visiting the bathroom once - simply cannot go an entire 50 minute swimming lesson without making her teacher take her to the restroom.
4. The teachers of the 3-5 year old class are saints.
5. There is quite a bit of psychology that goes into making a two-year-old perform his swimming lesson exercises. The toddler boy who refuses to throw his diving ring and go get it will happily "help" his mother who "dropped" the ring...four feet away from where she is sitting.
6. When in doubt, pretend your two-year-old is Buzz Lightyear. Then he'll do anything. He will also shout "to infinity and BEYOND!" while doing it, which is a bonus because it's freakishly cute.
7. There is nothing quite like the mixture of terror and pride one feels when watching one's six-year-old jump off the diving board for the first time.
8. It does not matter how well you plan or how much you prepare. When trying to get four people out the door to swimming lessons, there is about an 80% chance you will be late.
9. Teach your oldest child to put sunscreen on your back as soon as he or she is able to reasonably do so. Do not say "oh well, I think I got enough on my back, should be good..."
10. Spray-on sunscreen is a gift from God.
11. A six-year-old boy who scrapes his toe on the bottom of the pool will not get out to address the injury. He's going to go right on playing until they call for everyone to get out of the pool, and only then will he remember to show you the gushing wound.
12. Lifeguards are amazing. When your six-year-old's foot is gushing blood, they don't blink an eye - they just throw him on their back piggy-back style and haul them up to the first-aid station faster than you can say "ANNA AND MATTHEW GET YOUR SHOES ON NOW WE HAVE TO GO HELP YOUR BROTHER!"
13. Given the opportunity to put his own shoes on, a two-year-old has a 50% shot of getting them on the right feet. This makes no difference. He will put them on the wrong feet 100% of the time.
14. Always put your toddler in the bathtub to take off the swimming diaper or you will have a carpet full of urine to clean up.
And finally...
15. It is sad to see your time in the parent-tot class come to an end because it was fun to get so much one-on-one time with your youngest...and yet there is a sense of great anticipation when you realize that next year you are going to get an hour every day for two weeks to sit in the shade and read.
See you next year!
It was exhausting. I'm glad it's over.
During the past two weeks, I have made a number of observations and learned some remarkable things, and to that end, I give you the Swimming Lessons Lessons of 2012:
1. I am the only parent my age to not have a tattoo. This is said neither as a judgment nor as a statement of regret. Just an observation.
2. There are women who have children the age of my own that not only have 10 different bikinis to wear but the body to go in them. DANG.
3. A four-year-old girl - who can sit for hours of PBS Kids without visiting the bathroom once - simply cannot go an entire 50 minute swimming lesson without making her teacher take her to the restroom.
4. The teachers of the 3-5 year old class are saints.
5. There is quite a bit of psychology that goes into making a two-year-old perform his swimming lesson exercises. The toddler boy who refuses to throw his diving ring and go get it will happily "help" his mother who "dropped" the ring...four feet away from where she is sitting.
6. When in doubt, pretend your two-year-old is Buzz Lightyear. Then he'll do anything. He will also shout "to infinity and BEYOND!" while doing it, which is a bonus because it's freakishly cute.
7. There is nothing quite like the mixture of terror and pride one feels when watching one's six-year-old jump off the diving board for the first time.
8. It does not matter how well you plan or how much you prepare. When trying to get four people out the door to swimming lessons, there is about an 80% chance you will be late.
9. Teach your oldest child to put sunscreen on your back as soon as he or she is able to reasonably do so. Do not say "oh well, I think I got enough on my back, should be good..."
10. Spray-on sunscreen is a gift from God.
11. A six-year-old boy who scrapes his toe on the bottom of the pool will not get out to address the injury. He's going to go right on playing until they call for everyone to get out of the pool, and only then will he remember to show you the gushing wound.
12. Lifeguards are amazing. When your six-year-old's foot is gushing blood, they don't blink an eye - they just throw him on their back piggy-back style and haul them up to the first-aid station faster than you can say "ANNA AND MATTHEW GET YOUR SHOES ON NOW WE HAVE TO GO HELP YOUR BROTHER!"
13. Given the opportunity to put his own shoes on, a two-year-old has a 50% shot of getting them on the right feet. This makes no difference. He will put them on the wrong feet 100% of the time.
14. Always put your toddler in the bathtub to take off the swimming diaper or you will have a carpet full of urine to clean up.
And finally...
15. It is sad to see your time in the parent-tot class come to an end because it was fun to get so much one-on-one time with your youngest...and yet there is a sense of great anticipation when you realize that next year you are going to get an hour every day for two weeks to sit in the shade and read.
See you next year!
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