Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Night Owl

H has always been so much like J, especially where sleep is concerned. Neither one of them seem to really need any.

Well, last night I had H all snug in her bed at 830pm.

Come 9pm I'm sitting on the couch, wine in hand, about to watch a movie with J when I hear the oh-so familiar sound of pitter patter on the stairs.

"Can I share your wine?" my tiny dancer asked, peeking through the bars of the stairs.

I smiled at her. Really, this kid is incredulous. And absolutely irresistible, you can't help but smile at her. Even if you tucked her into bed 30 minutes ago.

"Probably not," I answered her truthfully.

"Well, can I sit on the couch with you?"

Typically I'd send her back to bed. Mostly because she'll go, and because I took a shower and had a totally different type of evening planned. But alas, I said, "Sure, kiddo," and patted on the couch, making space between J and I.

"What are we doing?" she asked, making herself comfy, little Duckie snuggling onto her lap.

"Getting ready to watch a movie," I answered, thankful we'd opted against D'Jango.

"You know this movie is rated R for language," J said. Not to make H go back to bed, but to give me the opportunity to opt out of the movie.

"You know our daughter is rated R for language, too," I laughed, after having listened to her tell everyone in Target "Holy shit!" while I shopped earlier that day.

J got the movie ready. I told him "sorry" because our night had clearly taken a drastic turn thanks to our little night owl.

"Don't be," he told me. "This is what I signed up for. Spending time with my wife and children. I couldn't think of a better way to spend my evening."

The movie was slow at first, and H and Duckie posed for a serious photo shoot on J's phone. H drank water out of a wine glass and gave tons of cuddles and kisses.

When the movie was over, past 11pm, and J and I were beat, H still wide awake, I took her into her room and kissed her good night. Again.

H wrapped her arms around my neck and told me, "Momma, you're my best friend. I'm so glad I got to watch a movie with you and papa all just for me."

Monday, April 29, 2013

Mood Food

I've always stood pretty firmly on the belief that food doesn't have an effect on my kiddos. Like, I've seen some kids eat one cookie or one pouch of artificially colored gummies, and they are off the walls mental. But not my kids (and I'm not saying this facetiously).

I've pretty much always known food effects me. Carbs and sugar bring me down, make me sluggish and zombie-like. Even J will say something to me when I start getting in a funk about eating better foods for me.

But I've never seen either effect on my kids until recently.

Oh boy.

After having a few fun-filled weeks of eating things that they are privy to on occasion, but certainly not every day - lots of crackers, Annie's fruit snacks (AFC free), macaroni and cheese and spaghetti, and more pancakes than could possibly fit in my children's bellies, I started to see it.

Badly.

The meltdowns were continuous and inconsolable. Whereas I can typically talk to H and she'll get her head together and calm down, she looked to be in a foggy haze and totally not coherent half the time. The sleep was more minimal than typical with crazy wakings. They were just bonkers.

It didn't happen from eating some graham crackers or a package of gummies, but from eating that daily.

J and I have always tried to have a pretty open policy to what they kids are allowed to eat, especially in other people's homes. It just seems to be the most respectful way of going about things. But from here on out, I think we'll have to be more leery on that.

The one thing that kept going through my mind during these epic meltdowns was how awful it has to be for some kids, who have these kinds of behavioral effects from the things they're given to eat, and then are also disciplined for how crazy they food makes them eat. What a lose-lose situation for little kids.

So if you're like me, and you're pretty certain food does not effect your kiddos, then try an experiment and see if their behavior changes if you take the sugar and processed foods largely out of their diets. It's like night and day.

Obviously H and B aren't angels all the time (don't tell my sister this - she might decide not to move in!), but the difference in their behavior and reasoning skills, as well as their sleep, is drastically different depending on what they eat.

I get it now.

Sunday, April 28, 2013

B's big boy room!

It does not feel like the kiddos and I have been home for 5 whole days. I'm beat. I've hardly had a chance to sit down, hence the lack of posts.

My sweet little sister C is moving in with us this week, so I've been trying to get things around here in order - which most definitely include H and B's new bedrooms.

Yes, yes, laugh at will. They might not sleep in them, but they now have some mega cute bedrooms.

Actually, tonight is their first real night in them and H went gladly and willingly, and B even fell asleep with me sitting on the floor beside his bed, no cries or anything. So I'll take it. Even if it only lasts an hour.

The kids' rooms still needed painted when I got back from PA. A good friend of mine came up Thursday and helped play with the kids while I painted B's room. Then J and I worked like madmen Friday, Saturday and today getting things arranged and in order, as well as running to stores for last minute things such a little cubby for B's room and a twin sized mattress since we decided not to put H in the full-sized bed, but that's for a post about her bedroom (if I get around to it).

I love B's room now. Like truly, mega adore it. It's pretty simple and basic, no clutter. I adore it.

Here are some pics of the before. Remember, they shared the room then (though rarely slept in it). It's not very cute, but got the job done (because it's only job was look like these kids have a room if anyone comes here).




 
 
 
And here are the pics of B's room now. Despite the absolutely shitty lighting. I snapped these right before putting B in bed, so it's evening and the light is crap. Maybe if I ever get ambitious I'll update with better lit photos. Maybe...
 
B has the awesome bedroom furniture of being 2nd born. You'll see. It costs 1/14 of what H's did. I wish I was making that number up. The saddest part is I actually prefer his furniture to hers now. Go figure. Let's hope he doesn't hold it against me.
 
That super awesome space mobile is from Pottery Barn Kids. I guess the sun didn't quite make it into the picture. The little moon light and the bed are Ikea. You can't forget the sippy cup of water or "Buuunnnyyyy!" (aka Little Nut Brown Hare) or else bedtime won't happen (the giraffe pillow pet is H's, he was just photo bombing here). B wanted orange walls, so this was the orange J and I settled on (J wanted a more pastel, I wanted more vivid, so I made a comforter with the vivid orange instead).

This is his cute reading and play area. I think it's my favorite part of the room. I got the little circus tent that's hanging on top from Ikea, as well as the photo shelves that I used for his books. The little cubby is from Target, and if I'm being truthful, it is completely empty right now other than the little Thomas sitting there.

This is a view from standing in the doorway. You can just barely see the end of the bed to the left. That is the curtain and blackout curtain that has been in the room since H was an infant. I thought about switching it, but meh. Maybe some other time. The rug on the floor is from PBK, too.  And of course, there is a photo of my handsome boy plastered on the wall back there!

Looking into the room at a slight right angle. His little cross he received at his Baptism is almost visible hanging by the closet on the left hand side. And yes, we still need to hang the closet door back up.

Here's my Pinterest masterpiece. The dresser. That's a $30 Craigslist solid wood dresser, painter by moi. Of course, I'm cheap so I just used leftover bathroom paint, so it's not really a color that matches anything. Oh, well. The little clothes hamper is from Ikea and belongs in the closet, but H kept pulling it out and crawling into it and meowing like a cat. Whatever makes her happy.

Those amazing robot canvas pics came from Hobby Lobby. I picked those up while Christmas shopping when they were on sale for a whopping $15 each. Who can beat that? My favorite part about them is that they have glitter on them. For a little boy who loves his sparkle, they're perfect!
 
 
So there you have it. B's big boy room! I can't believe he is sleeping in his own room right now!
 
There is a lot of color in this room. Like a ton. Which I adore. And it's so much B's personality it fits him perfectly. Anyway, hope you enjoy seeing this as much as I had fun creating it! 


Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Our first giveaway!! Educents and Conscious Box - Happy Earth Day!

I'm totally elated to have been asked to host a giveaway for one lucky reader of my blog!

Educents, which is an awesome "deal" site for educational resources for all ages is offering one winner a free month of Conscious Box, great, Eco- friendly monthly boxes mailed directly to your home, in honor of Earth Day!

To be entered to win is simple. All you have to do is "like" Educents on Facebook, "like" Conscious Box on Facebook, share this blog, and comment with your name and email address. The winner will be chosen on Saturday, April 27 using rafflecopter. The winner will then be contacted via email for their mailing address. Their Conscious Box will be shipped out May 10.

Furthermore, all proceeds from  Conscious Boxes purchased from Educents.com will go directly to One Fund Boston to help the families most affected by the tragic events that occurred at last Monday's Boston Marathon. Educents will also match those proceeds of the Conscious Boxes sold on their site by 100%!

So go ahead and get yourself a package of goodies and help support a great cause! You can check them out here: https://www.educents.com/#Kilah

UPDATE: You do NOT have to have children in order to win this. The box contains things such as eco-friendly cleaning supplies, beauty supplies, gum/snacks, etc.


Monday, April 22, 2013

She's weaning

In the past 2.5 weeks H has asked to nurse 6 times. Each time she nursed for less than 5 mins.

She's certainly not weaned yet, the last time she asked was only yesterday, but it definitely seems to be heading in that direction.

I'm really proud of myself.  Proud that I was able to breastfeed her this long. Proud that despite that there were times and days and weeks that I wanted to pull my hair out, I still let it be her choice because I knew how good it was for her (and lets face it, me).

I'm proud that despite listening to so many people tell me it is wrong to breastfeed past a year (or 2) I didn't listen and I let H lead the way.

To be honest, I thought she'd still be breastfeeding at 5+, as many children who are allowed to self wean oftentimes are. And though it actually seemed a bit crazy in my head to be truly honest, I still braced myself for it and was okay with it if that was what she needed.

And who knows, maybe she'll prove me wrong. Maybe she won't wean. Maybe we'll return home and she'll become an avid nursling again.

Truthfully, I hope she doesn't. But I won't stop her if she does.

I always thought I'd be really sad when she weaned. Breastfeeding is a super emotional relationship.

But I'm not.

I mean, there's a small part of me that is sad that its just another reminder of how much she's growing up. Too quickly. I can vividly remember giving birth to her. Holding her, refusing to part with her. So amazed by her beauty and perfection.

But even then H was never young. She's a wise old soul. I'd tell J all the time how she was so grown up and wise, her big brown eyes full of truths I'd never know. So even as a baby, H has never been a baby.

Some people say its because I had B when she was just shy of 17 months old, so she didnt get the chance to be a baby. But I know that isn't true. The apple just doesn't fall from the tree. I was never little either.

So yes, that part makes me sad.

But mostly I'm happy. I'm happy it's on her terms, in her time. I'm happy she feels so safe and secure and loved that she's comfortable to spread her little wings and find her independence, knowing momma will never shove or force, but will always be there willing to take her hand when she asks.


Sunday, April 21, 2013

A bedtime story by H

Once upon a time there was a girl. Her name was H. She was a princess. She had to go bed. Then once upon a time she had a brother. His name was B. He had a naked pompis. But he cried anyway.

Once upon a time there was a mommy. She went fishing. She yelled, "Families! I got a fish!" Well, once upon a time there was a mommy named Mommy. She put a pull-up on the princess and read her a story. Then she said, "Bed, Fred."

The end.

When you just can't

We all want to give our kids 100% at all times. It's a fault of being a parent.

But the truth is we can't. We can't give them enough empathy, enough patience or attention, enough love even. (Obviously we love our children unconditionally, but most children are not able to understand that. Every time they're yelled at, a parent sighs in frustrations, ignores them, etc., children feel like love is being withheld. We cannot control how our children feel, but we can control how we react to their feelings and not belittle or ridicule them for them.)

For a very long time I thought I was supposed to be the keeper of happiness for my children. If they cried or screamed or had a fit it was somehow my fault. And it was because I was doing something wrong.

I obviously know much better now. It took a while, but I left Candyland where parents were held to idealistic and sugar-coated standards, far too high even for Ghandi or Mother Theresa.

Fact is, we just can't do it all and be it all for our children. Mostly because we have needs, too. We're human.

We all have different degrees of needs. Some parents need to work 8 hours a day in order to be the best parent they know how the other 16 hours of the day. Some parents don't need that. It all differs.

I know I need that hour at the gym, preferably daily. And an hour or two before I go to sleep not entangled in kids. Some days I need more. Other days less.

And on the days my needs aren't met I'm a less-than parent and have a more difficult time meeting my children's demanding needs of attention and time. I'm less patient and empathetic when they're throwing tantrums (though it's no coincidence that they have more fits when I'm more stressed.)

Much like they say you can't love someone else until you love yourself, you certainly cannot meet the needs of your children if you aren't meeting your own.

You're not selfish if you put the baby in a bouncer by the shower so you can bathe alone. If you insist your toddler play on the floor of the kitchen while you cook instead of her helping you. If you go for a jog and kiddo has to sit in a stroller for an hour instead of doing something "fun" or "educational" of his choosing. If you leave them in the care of the gym daycare so you can work off steam. If you put them in nursery school so you can have a little you time; or the millions of other things I hear parents guiltily lament about. It's okay.

Just make sure you're treating your kids with respect.

When I first started taking H and B to the Y play n learn they were less than thrilled. They cried. A lot. I'd prep them the whole drive over. I'd acknowledge their apprehension and desire not to be separated from me. I'd explain what I'd be doing and where I'd be. I'd tell them the kinds of things they'd have the options of doing that day at the play center. I'd never tell them "oh, you're going to have so much fun," or "you'll love it," or even "you'll be okay." I can't control their feelings. I can't pretend to. But I did tell them mommy would be back and I'd kiss them and then stand outside the door begging myself not to cry. Obviously that part didn't last forever, and they are excited to go now. But still. I just respected and validated their feelings while still meeting my own needs. And it was better for all of us.

So we, as parents, can't do it all. (And we weren't meant to, hence the village. But I digress...) It doesn't mean that it's always easy, even knowing this, but it does mean it's okay.

Some days you won't be a stellar parent. Because you're tired or hungry or touched out or dealing with other stress. But, if you use your words (I use this phrase entirely too much in my day to day life) and respect your children, explain things to them, then it'll be okay. They'll grow up knowing momma and papa are human. They have needs too. And although things might not always go the way they're wanting, momma and papa respect and validate their feelings.

Because some days you just can't give them anything other than your respect. You just can't.

Friday, April 19, 2013

I get by with a little help from my friends

When I was little I was always told I was an introvert and didnt like to be around people.

Now that I'm older I know that's not true. I love being around people. It depends on the day. And the people. But I'm extremely outgoing and I need to socialize.

I do like being alone, too, though. I unwind by myself better. I prefer being with my husband and kids over anyone else, but I certainly enjoy and want to be around others too.

I'm human.

It's strange because since I've had kids in many ways my social life has expanded exponentially. My social circle is huge. I realized I can't run to Target in sweats and no make-up thinking no one will notice me. It's inevitable I will run into someone I know.

I have lots of friends.  "Mom friends" for labeling sakes. They're amazing and beautiful people.

My pre-baby friends are admittedly fewer in quantity, but not in quality. It's only hit me in that past 24 hours how much I miss these friends though.

I don't talk to any of them as much as I should. With most of them it's in passing. A birthday. Christmas.

I really should be better at staying in touch with people. I should write more letters. Send more emails. Make more phone calls.

Okay, maybe texts. Lets not push things here. I'm the worlds worst phone talker. Those who've been so lucky to have even a 30 second phone conversation with me know I'm just super awkward on the phone.

Actually spending quality time with these people would be nice too.

I've got friends that I've had since I was a tiny little bit in her first theatre production (oh, my children's dramatic acts makes sense now, eh?). Friends from my various high schoos. From college. From living abroad. Friends I was blessed with by my marriage. Friends I've made due to my kids -both nearby and afar. Friends who also just so happen to be family.

All these people are amazing. They're the people who in different ways I lean on. I seek their advice. Often times their support.

I love these people. I value them.

It's crazy that I don't take my husband or children for granted. Not for a second. I know there isn't enough time in the grand scheme of things.

And yet I've certainly taken all my friends for granted. I keep thinking there will be plenty of time. And likely there will be.

But what if there isn't?

I don't want to have regrets and remorse that I wasn't a better, more involved, more reliable friend.

So I am going to be.

Because Lord knows I wouldn't be where I'm at or who I am without my friends.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

I love Pinterest, though it may not love me.

I have an addiction to Pinterest.

It's not quite 6 am and I threw in the towel at 430am that I'm not going back to sleep after the last time B woke up. So I've been laying in bed perusing Pinterest.

I've gotten so many brilliant kid activity ideas from that sight.

I have a slew of DIY projects for this spring/summer, which mostly includes, but is not limited to painting pretty much all the furniture in our house. J is overjoyed about this (read sarcasm here). I mean, I had this brilliant idea to paint our downstairs bathroom which is all of 2 ft by 2 ft and add shelves and guess who spent one whole Sunday doing my project?

Well, the kids aren't going to entertain and feed themselves. And although J would love them all day, they're kind of tied to their momma. And I don't quite yet trust them with any paint that doesn't say "washable" on it.

J had a lot of fun painting the bathroom and putting up shelves. He may not admit it, but he did.

Trust me.

Which is why he's thrilled with all my lined up projects.

And then there are the recipes. I've pinned like a million. The best part is I keep pinning all these recipes that look delicious, but they have all these ingredients that we either don't eat or eat substitutions of.

I mean, creamy asparagus maccoroni and cheese! Yum! Only omit the maccoroni. And the cheese. Sauté the asparagus with olive oil and garlic because that's how the kids like it. Add some grilled chicken. Maybe a small side of gluten-free angel hair with avocado oil and salt. And wham! We've got creamy asparagus maccoroni and cheese, courtesy of Pinterest. A totally change up from the typical veggies and chicken we eat.

But I did say we get a lot of kid activities off Pinteresr, right?

We do. We really, really do.

They have some really awesome ideas. Typically of which involve glue. And glitter and scissors and blow torches and boiling water. So I tell the kids we are doing this fun new craft and pull out an unopened box of crayons or fresh set of paints.

Paints. I did make my own finger paints once courtesy of Pinterest. But their was boiling water involved. H cried a lot. Although the paint managed to turn her completely red it only painted clear on the paper. It was clearly a full proof recipe.

We make our own play dough. That counts for something right?

I love Pinterest. I really and truly do. I use it nearly daily.

And honestly, if it weren't for Pinterest I wouldn't have fabulous hairstyles and a mad work-out regime. I wouldn't be on a great schedule for cleaning my house and every single thing in my house wouldn't be organized down to the dust.

Oh wait. I haven't managed that either.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Don't touch!

No, I'm not talking about what my children shouldn't touch. I'm talking about my children themselves.

H and B are typically super affectionate. They love cuddles and hugs and kisses. Heck, last night they  asked all the neighbors and kids outside for hugs before they had to go in for baths.

The key word there is asked.

I hate when my kids clearly don't want hugs or kisses and yet people still demand they show affection or "steal" the hugs/kisses regardless.

I want my children to always know they have full control over their bodies. No one has the right to touch, hug, prod, etc., without their consent. Even if it's to show affection.

I hate how people treat kids like little puppets and say, "Go kiss Aunt Sally" even if they clearly don't want to. Especially when it's someone they hardly know.

Their bodies, ask consent.

When B hits H and I ask him what he can do to show her gentle hands, he always says "hug." But we ask H if its okay first. Typically she says yes, but occasionally she says no, and B knows that if she says no than he cannot hug her (but Momma will happily be his recipient!).

When a child is forced to allow hugs they don't want at that moment for whatever reason, they are being told that they have no control over their own body. That their bodies are for others to do with as they please. Which makes the line precariously thin between unwanted affection and abuse. Not as in giving an unwanted hug is abuse, but as in a child is less likely to speak up if abused if they've all ready been taught they have no voice where their body is concerned.

So go ahead and give hugs and kisses and all the love in the world. But if they say "no," respect that.

And don't touch.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

I love being a mom


I love being a mom.

Freaking adore it.

I said this at a playgroup a few weeks ago and one mom responded with, "Are you kidding me? Don't you ever just feel insane?"

Sure I do. I'm like every other mother. I'm tired and touched out. Sometimes the whining is worse than nails on a chalkboard and I run out of answers for "why?"

But yes, mostly I just love it.

I love waking up to sweet (and some mornings not so sweet) babes. I love making them breakfast and planning daily adventures with them.

I love being amazed that these awesome people came from me.

I love realizing how just in the past week they've changed so much. B has had a verbal burst. I'm not sure J will recognize this crazy talkative toddler when we finally return home.

H mastered doing a back flip on the bar today. I was terrified and amazed by her executing it. Over and over again. 

I love their tiny arms around my neck. I love wet kisses. And butterfly kisses. And Eskimo kisses. And puppy kisses.

I love the way they say "momma" and "mommy."

I love the sounds of their laughs.

Even when they're sad or mad I love it. I love those moments when H is taking deep breaths to calm down from a fit and she looks into my eyes, so wise and confident and in control, and I can all ready are this incredible person she is. I love how after a tantrum from exhaustion she curls up beside me and moves my hand to her back so I can rub it until she drifts to slumberland.

I love B's ridiculous fake cry and how he runs to me when he decides to use it. I love how he pokes my eyes every time he shrieks, "eye!" I love how when he's almost asleep and I unlatch him from my breast he whines and roots, a cross of a newborn and a puppy, until finally snuggling into my chest.

I love how even though they still wake up a million times at night they can curl up next to me and be calm again.

I love how they want to play all day long with me.

I love how they help me fold the laundry, always making it necessary for me to fold it all again. And then they jump into the clothes basket and make me wonder why I even bothered folding it on the first place.

I love how they wash the mirrors after I do, making them streaky all over again. I love how they so intensely help me dust and wash floors.

I love how B pulls tiny pieces of toilet paper off the roll and deposits it into the toilet and then flushes it.

I love how H insists on having her towel wrapped around her like "baby Ghandi" after every bath.

I love how they both get more use out of playing with my make-up than I do wearing it.

I love how they take all of the shoes out of my closet and line them up, trying each pair on.

I love how they make me read the same book over and over eleventy billion times and just when I think I will lose my mind if I read it again, I do read it again. And I don't lose my mind because the whole time I'm reading it they are smiling and alert, their eyes bright and excited, just like the very first time I ever cracked the spine open.

I love that they don't notice I've worn the same legging three days in a row or that my hair is dirty. They don't judge.

I love the way they smell.

I love that no matter how long or stressful the day may have been, the "bad" melts away and is unimportant. There is never a moment that I cannot see one of them or think about them and a smile come to my face. 

Yes, I love being a mom.

And I still say this after having to ride the extremely boring Hershey's chocolate tour ride seven times today and neither child napped. Four epic meltdowns and one bathtub full of such dirty babies you couldn't see through the water. 

It's awesome. It's beautiful. I love it. 

Each and every second.

Monday, April 15, 2013

"Not be the momma" - at least she gets it

It's cold and wet today. And I was up rocking a teething, cranky boy most of the night. So I deemed it a lazy day.

H told me she wanted to be the momma, so I told her to have at it. She "rocked" and cuddled me on the couch while patting my back, telling me to go to sleep. I relished every second of that because she's not a big cuddler.

When she finally decided I'd "slept" enough, it was time to play.

When B came over and plucked the bowls we were playing with away from me,  I bellowed, "that's mine! Give it back!" and pretended to cry. This is a typical reaction for H, so it was interesting to see her stop and figure out the proper response.

"Well, he just wants to see it," she told me gently.

"But he took it out of my hands! I'm just going to take it back out of his."

She shook her head at me. "If you do that, you're telling him it's okay to take things out of people's hands. You need to use your words."

I pouted and then said, "B, I was playing with that. Can I have it back?"

B promptly said, "No!"

"He says no!" I cried, and then started to pretend cry again.

"It's okay, it's okay." H patted my back. "I know you're frustrated with him, but we have to be nice." She turned to B. "B, Momma was playing with that. You can't take things from other people. You need to give it back."

"No!" B wailed again.

"I see you're having a really hard time returning that bowl back to Momma. If you need help giving it back I can help you."

"No!" B shouted again.

H looked at me and sighed. "This is hard. He's not listening."

"I know," I agreed, trying not to smile.

H turned back to her brother, her little gears turning. "You made Momma sad when you took that from her. You need to give it back now. I can help you find something else to play with until Momma decides she's done, but you don't get to take it because you want it. She had it first."

"No!" B yelled, pulling the bowl to his chest.

"Momma, he's really frustrating me," she told me between her gritted teeth.

"You're the momma. What should you do?"

"Not be the momma!" She answered emphatically.

Ha! If only the solution were that easy sometimes.

But I was immensely proud of how she handled the situation. And it proved to me that I'm getting through to her, even in the midst of tantrums and dramatic monologues. She's getting it.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

B and the Blonde

B has a thing for the older ladies.

He was coyly sticking his hands down unsuspecting girls shirts at less than year old. Giving unsolicited kisses.

In Japan he stood in a mud puddle while a gaggle of Japanese girls swooned over him. He was devastated when I finally had to whisk him away.

Tonight a sweet 10 year old blonde girl came over, asking if she could play with the kids.

B was immediately love struck. He held her hand all evening, following her everwhere like a lovesick  puppy. She would croon to him how sweet and cute he is, and he'd give her that frighteningly charming smile.

When it was finally time for the girl to go home and eat dinner B gave her hand the death grip. He screamed "no!" despite her promises to return tomorrow. He was so distraught over her departure that even chocolate could not console him. That's saying a lot for B.

If this is even the tiniest glimpse into what his future will be; parents everywhere, lock up you daughters!

This boy is gonna be a doozy.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

A change in school plans, as always

Remember like 5 seconds ago when I said I would not have my kids do any kind of sit-down workbook learning until at least the age of 7?

Well, I meant it.

But H has other plans.

Typical.

She's been telling me for at least 2 weeks now how she wants to go to school (thanks, Sid the Science Kid!). So finally I said to her, "You were on school before Christmas. Remember that? Do you want to go back?"

We pulled her primarily because I couldn't justify paying for it when we were gone so frequently but also because she was continuously telling me she didn't want to go.

"Well, I liked my teacher," she told me. "But the other kids were too little." (She was one of the youngest in her class).

"They're your age. They'll still be your age. It will be the same. Mommy will do school here with you when it's the right time."

"It's the right time," she told me matter-of-factly. "I need to learn things."

I kind of laughed, which was probably inappropriate. "You learn things ever day," I told her, "Just by playing."

I feel very strongly about education through play. So of course H needs to prove me wrong.

I'm all, let's paint the windows with shaving cream and dye daisies and make play dough. She's all, yes, that's fun, lets do it! But also, lets sit down and work out of books like little drones.

I guess. If that's what works for her. I do believe in child-lead education.

Even if it doesn't lead me where I wanted/anticipated.

All we have are preschool work books. And two dry erase books to work on writing. She really wants to write, but she needs a lot of practice. And since she's a type A perfectionist it's a hard process to watch.

Now I have to figure out where she falls academic wise, and what I can do for her that follows her rules of school.

I bought her a giant Discovery Kids felt map that was 90% off and we are working on geography now. She loves that.

Well, back to our conversation. She replied with, "Playing is playing. And it's fun. But school is school and I need to go."

Well, she probably never will go to school. I won't say she definitely won't because we will take her desires and opinion into consideration always. But I think she'd realize pretty quickly that it's not quite what she's thinking anyway.

So we are changing things around here. I'm going to find her the things she needs. Even if she changes her mind, her needs change, and she realizes that just playing is okay in a week from now.

That's the point to child-lead education anyway, right?

Friday, April 12, 2013

"You'd rather show cruelty than kindness to your own children"

I'd been reading a lot of buzz about the latest WifeSwap episode.

I dislike reality TV in general. It typically pisses me off. This show was no exception, but I watched it on my phone after the kiddos were in bed anyway.

The "radical" mom said something to the hardcore authoritarian dad though that nearly made me cry. She said something along the lines of, "You'd rather show cruelty than kindness to your own children. Your own children."

We all have the ability to show our children kindness, but it's a fact that most of us don't in stressful and learning situations.

Leaving a baby or toddler to cry themselves to sleep - their throats raw and sore, their noses running, their scream unattended to is not kind.

When our children disobey or "act out" we punish. We isolate, we hit, we take things or privileges away. We have the ability to show kindness. We have the ability to talk and listen and reason and understand. But more than often we don't.

Being right is more important than being kind oftentimes.

We deny out children the kindness we would show adult human beings for reasons that I no longer understand.  I used to think it was because we had to "teach" them. They would only be good and caring people with punishments (because discipline and punishment are NOT synonymous).

But I know that's not true. So why do so many of us do it? Why do we bully and punish our kids into what our ideals for them are instead of allowing them their true identities and help guide them along their path when they act out and tell us they are seeking our help?

I'm not perfect. Not even close. But the mother's statement really struck a chord with me. I will certainly be asking myself in future situations with my children if I'm showing them the kindness I'd want others to show me?

Am I showing them kindness or cruelty? Because that is 100% something I have control of.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Mickey Mouse has a potty mouth.

I walked into the room Duckie is staying in this morning, still half asleep as my sweet 3 year old (I still can't believe I have a 3 year old!) bounced into my lap and said, "You're my best girl, god dammit!"

I nearly choked on my spit and was immediately awake.

Slowly, I asked her, "Where did you hear that?"

Admittedly, Momma has a potty mouth, but I try desperately to sensor myself, yet my child still correctly knows how to use "shit." But "god dammit" is something I simply never say. And neither does J.

"Mickey Mouse says it," H answered.

Only this past week has H ever seen a show with Mickey Mouse or have any real concept of who he is. J is pretty anti-all characters, and I have no deep connection to any so have been indifferent. And since we don't have cable at home it's not really an issue. But since we've been at my sister in laws house, Disney Junior (is that what it's called?) has become a part of our mornings.

J would just be thrilled to know.

"I don't think Mickey Mouse says that, love," I replied.

"Yep. He does."

 Anyone who's ever come into contact with a 3 year old knows that arguing with them is futile. So I moved on. "What do you think 'god dammit' means?"

"Oh, you know," her contagious smile still plastered to her face, "it's synonymous for 'oh my goodness!'"

"Then why don't we say 'oh my goodness' instead? It sounds a bit nicer to me."

Her eyebrows arched high as she sighed. "Okaaaay. But Mickey Mouse doesn't actually say 'oh my goodness.' He says 'god dammit.'"

I don't love admitting I'm wrong. But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe J knows something I don't about characters and Mickey really is corrupting my kids.

I mean, at least according to my 3 year old it is so.

Monday, April 8, 2013

What lies ahead: being a kid now is scary

Admittedly, I have mixed feelings as each day passes and I watch my children grow.

One part of me, of course, loves watching them grow and blossom into themselves.

Another part of me misses the baby snuggles and tiny coos.

Mostly though, I miss the safety that infancy provides from the rest of the world because I'm slightly terrified of what the rest of the world has become or is becoming.

Although I fear for my boy, I fear more for my girl. Because girls are catty and brutal and demoralizing and hold grudges for eternity. Because its become normal for 4 year olds to play with whore dolls and 6 year old to dress like prostitutes. 8 year old are kissing while 10 year olds are judging each other on their sex appeal and body fat. 12 year olds are dieting and 14 year old are having sex. 16 year olds are bullying others so terribly they feel suicide is their only escape.

And everyone is saying, "Oh, not my daughter!" But yes, it's likely your daughter. And that's terrifying.

Because it could be my daughter too, some day. And I don't want a world where these things are normal for her.

Because it certainly didn't seem this brutal even 10 years ago when I was a young teenager, so how much worse can it get in 10 more years?

And it's not just girls, obviously.

Chivalry is lost on boys today. They think sex is something that can forcefully be taken because a girl is drunk or kissed him or wore a short skirt. Their respect for women, and themselves, is often non-existent.

All of these kids are entitled. They purposefully break iPhones so they will receive the newest version. They wear $200 jeans and never say "thank you" for the meal put on the table for them.

So yes, I have mixed emotions about my children growing up.

"Just do your best" people say. "Teach them to know and do better."

Obviously that's the plan, but these are things they should never even have to deal with.

I played with dolls when I was 4, and even 12, but they didn't wear lingerie. I thought boys had cooties at 8, and 18, kissing them wasn't really on my mind. (Okay, not really at 18, but at 17...). At 14 the idea of sex was disturbing to me. At 16, I didn't realize bullying existed outside of the TV shows where kids stole the lunch money from other kids. All of this and I was not a sheltered kid. Not even a little bit.

What has happened in our culture in the past decade to make all of this acceptable? What has changed?

Because, dudes, it just seems to get worse everyday to be a kid, and that is so not the goal.

I wish I knew the solution, that's for sure. But I don't. I can only hope that showing my children love and compassion, teaching them that might does not equal right, modeling kind words and anger control, and doing my best to help them learn empathy and forgiveness does even a shred of good in preparing them for what lies ahead.

Saturday, April 6, 2013

TV and reading is emotionally different once you have kids

Before I had kids my favorite show was Law and Order SVU.

I have a double major in History and International Studies. My concentration in history was the Holocaust; in International Studies it was Human Rights. I wrote my history thesis over medical ethics, detailing the gory, atrocious experiments done to many people, including children, during World War II. My International Studies final presentation was over Human Trafficking in SE Asia, primarily the trafficking of little girls for the purpose of sex slavery.

These things all made my stomach churn, of course. Writing an essay over child soldiers made me depressed for a week. I got drawn in and attached, but not so deeply that they gave me nightmares or I felt like I couldn't watch, read, or study such things. I never avoided them and I rarely cried.

After I had H I stopped watching SVU. It'd freak me out, thinking of these terrible things ever happening to my children. Even fairy tales where the mother died would rip my heart out.

But nothing struck a chord so deeply quite like the book I'm currently reading.

I've had the same, terrible nightmare now for three nights all because of one single page in the book.

The book is "The Storyteller" by Jodi Picoult. She's been my favorite author for the past ten years and I'm always first in line to purchase her newest book.

Her last two books were slightly disappointing for me, so I was thrilled that this book was so enticing and the storyline was intriguing. It tells the story of a 25 year old girl who (unknowingly) befriends a 95 year old SS Guard who worked at the same concentration camp her grandmother had survived.

During the man's recollection of being a guard he tells how during one extermination a mother carried her toddler daughter to the ditch of bodies they'd been ordered to lay down on top of for their murders. The mother, telling her child not to open her eyes no matter what, tucks the little girl into the dead bodies as if tucking her into bed. She then sings a lullaby to her daughter. After the slew of guns have gone off the little girl is still beneath her now dead mother, wrapped lovingly in her arms, singing the lullaby as well. The guard shoots her in the head.

I've dreamt this scenario 3 times now. Each time it's my dear H and I, and the dream, the very idea, is far too much to handle. The idea of something so terrible happening to any precious life, most especially my own child, is simply not fathomable.

It's crazy to think I once could read and watch this kind of stuff, and although it made me upset, it didn't affect me half as much as it does now. Before I had children. Before I understood what it truly meant to watch my heart walk outside of my body.

Needless to say, I'll be screening even my books better from now on.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Toy rotation fail

Right after Christmas I decided to set up a toy rotational system in the kids play room because there was just so much. Truth is, there is still too much in there. But I was trying to find out what worked for us.

Well, I put all the other toys in nice bins and what not in the closet with the intent to rotate things like puzzles, etc., weekly.

I've read a lot about people doing this with great success. It kept things new and fresh for the kids so they didn't get bored, and they got to fully utilize all of their toys.

Well, when I was digging in the closet this past week I for Easter baskets I realized that I'd yet to rotate their toys. Not even once.

Epic fail.

So now I've got to come up with a better system, because they have some seriously awesome things that I'd like for them to utilize. Fun, but educational toys.

Although I deeply believe in play through learning and all that jazz, I'd like them to still use the kick-ass educational things they own. And they do. And they love them. But obviously sitting in a closet un-rotated isn't doing anyone any good.

So now I'm off to figure out a better system.

What happened to the good ol' days of sticks and rocks as toys? No rotation necessary.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Spring is coming!

Spring is just around the corner! I can nearly taste it!

Nevermind it's technically been spring for nearly 2 weeks now.

I decided that if spring didn't want to come to us, we'd come to it! So I spent most of the morning yesterday transferring all of our winter clothes into boxes and pulling out spring and summer clothes.

Of course, after watching the cold-weather clothes disappear H asked, "But what if we're cold, Momma?"

Well, hopefully spring gets the memo pretty quick that we're not waiting around for it and gets its act together. Because we're just not cold weather people.

Until then, we'll pretend it wasn't 40 degrees while Miss H ran around without anything on her legs (her choice - I tried to put tights on her!)


Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Aha, now I get it!

Before I had kids I was, obviously, the perfect parent. We all are until we actually have the screaming, puking baby in our living room or the possessed toddler running around naked peeing in the vents (yes, toddlers are possessed. All of them are.)

I remember being pregnant with H and walking into Menards seeing a couple with their older baby in nothing but a long-sleeved onesie and leggings. The couple was wearing their winter coats because it was effing cold out. Dear God, this child didn’t even have socks on. I was appalled and I commented on it to J. It stuck in my head so much that a year later when I was walking into Menards with my own unclothed Dragon Baby I turned to J and said, “Yep, we’re totally those parents. I get it now.”

I’ve had a lot of aha, now I get it! moments.

I would cook only one meal. I would not cater to my children, they would be served three healthy meals and they could take it or leave it. Yep, uh huh. I soooo do that. Not. In a lot of ways I do. I don’t make multiple meals, that’s for sure. Other than for breakfast. The kids get served the same thing J and I do. And they’re good at eating just about anything. But I also know that if I’m making asparagus I’d better make 3lbs and I still likely will not get any to eat. And if I make steak and non-green veggies I’m going to have to make a big ol’ fruit salad and that’s primarily what my children would eat. Yep, I only cook one meal. But it’s not what I’d meant.

I’d never feed my kids fast food. I’m pretty sure B’s first solid food was Wendy’s French fries. Enough said.

I would never yell at my children. Fail. Ridiculous fail. But I’m also working on that not being something I ever do again. I so do not want my kids growing up and their childhood memories being, “Wow, my mom sure yelled a lot.”

My kids would never sleep in my bed. I’m not sure my kids know they have their own beds sometimes…on the upside, it makes traveling way easier!

I wouldn’t be one of those moms who looked like crap all the time. I mean, really, how hard is it to take a shower, blow dry your hair, put on a little make up, and put together a good-fitting, cute outfit? Well, let me tell you. It’s really hard. Really, extremely, difficult. Unless you find it easy to navigate a shower with two small children who want to help wash your legs and scream because you’re hogging the water and cry uncontrollably just when they see the blow dryer and they’ve crumbled your make-up to pieces and you don’t own two articles of clothing that properly fits your saggy boobs and spread hips. But I mean, it’s not that hard, right?

I would never ignore my children. Oh, you know what I’m talking about. The lady in the supermarket whose pestering toddler asks 20 times for a box of cookies and mom doesn’t seem to hear but you want to use your slingshot to knock the kid out with your frozen chicken. Or the mom who is pushing her kids on the swings while navigating her iPhone instead of savoring every single precious moment of her child flying through the air. Yeah, well…never say never. Sometimes after calmly saying, “I understand you want those cookies. Mommy hears you. And I know you’re upset and frustrated I said no” the only thing you really can do is ignore them as you slowly began to lose your mind and your cool. Or after pushing your child for over an hour and realizing you’ve yet to speak to another human being who is over 3 feet tall today, you need a little social media in your life.

My children would never eat in the car. It’s a choking hazard. I can’t even see them rear-facing, by god! Not to mention the atrocious mess. I don’t want freaking cheerios and half-eaten fruit leathers and sippy cups littering my car. Yeah. Right. Eat anything you want. Just please, please don’t scream. I’ll even give you those damn cookies from the supermarket I just told you that you couldn’t have if you promise to be quiet for the five minutes we’re in the car.

I would not blare those god-awful toddler tunes in my car. Yeah, see the above paragraph. We can listen to “There’s a Dinosaur Knocking at My Door” and “Un Elefante” fifty eleven billion times if you just. don’t. scream.

My kids would always be clean, cute, and well-dressed. They’re mostly clean. Bathing in mud puddles is good enough, right? And, I mean, we wash hands before most meals. That has to count for something. And they do get baths that B stands and hysterically pees in the water every. single. time. But urine is sterile, right? And they do own cute, matching outfits. But only momma would pick them out, and obviously if momma picks out clothes it is the end of the world. So go ahead, sweet girl, wear the batman shirt, the lime green pettiskirt, the red heart tights, and monster rain boots. And B…well, just wear something. I’ll wipe yesterdays breakfast off your face tonight. If I remember.

My kids would never watch TV. That lasted the first 15 months of H’s life. That counts for something, right?

Yep, I remember the good ol’ days before I had little babes and what a fantastic Mom I was. And then I had kids. And then I ate a lot of my words.

Good thing I like to eat, that’s all I can say.

Monday, April 1, 2013

I peed on my foot and lost a kid all before 11am

Jokes on me.

It should have been painfully obvious this morning that the Fates are happy jokers and were going to have their fun with me today. It started when I had to wake my children up at 7:30am. My babes are always up at 6am. They are my little alarm clocks. So of course I didn't think twice about scheduling Mr. B's psychology study at the local university at 8 am. That'd give us a whopping 2 hours to get ready and get there. No big deal.

No such luck of course.

Don't get me wrong now. I am freaking thrilled that my kids slept that late. It's awesome and amazing. And B only woke up once last night, which is icing on the cake. Well, other than the fact that H had to poop three times in the middle of the night, during which time she told me, "I think I ate too much chocolate. That was just a bad idea." So, you know, if she'd slept through I'd have had real sleep last night. Alas, when your bowels call, you gotta answer!

After dressing them mostly in their sleep and shuffling them into the car, I made it three blocks from the house only to realize that I'd forgotten my phone. I was all ready too late to turn around and get it. It's probably a good thing for me to exist without it to be honest. I'm on that dang thing all. the. time. Mostly it's my connection to the outside world most days.

At the university, after showing H where we'd be and getting her set up a sheet away from us (literally, we were divided by a sheet), with her watching us on a video monitor (because she's not like most kids who happily goes to play with a student in the play room), we did the study. B looked ridiculously cute with the hat and cameras all attached to him.

When we were done each of the kids received a book to take home and I ended up taking home a packet to do another study with B which consists of me writing down what he's doing every 30 minutes for the next three days. For real. Every 30 minutes.

H and B were hungry by then, of course, so we went to the bagel shop around the corner of the library, which was our next destination. They both chose chocolate chip bagels that they didn't eat and instead drank way too much of my iced coffee.

If we're being honest, my kids probably have a coffee problem.

You could probably call it an addiction.

Finally we were off to the library. We turned in overdue library books and CDs (yay for no late fee charges on children's materials!). H chose a Curious George DVD and a Dinosaur Train  DVD to check out for car viewing. She also picked out two books while Momma chose the book "Words are not for Hurting" and 2 Spanish music CDs.

The kids then played in the play area. We played some serious grocery store and B was an awesome cashier while H and two other little girls brought him tons of things to ring up. I knew one of the little girls and her mother from a few playdates, so when B needed a diaper change she offered to keep H for me who was content playing.

Off B and I went right around the corner to the bathrooms that are in the children's area. After B was changed I realized I really needed to pee. Of course, sitting on the toilet, mid-pee, B grabs the door handle and pulls down and I heard a very unsettling click! This is how I learned the door unlocked simply by opening it from the inside.

As he began to pull it open I yelled, probably too loudly, "No!" and jumped up to stop him both from opening the door completely and darting out into the library. I immediately felt pee all over my heel and shoe. Fan-freaking-tastic. Let's just say it's not easy to stop peeing mid-stream. I know, this is so much more than you ever wanted to know.

B immediately fell onto the dirty bathroom floor sobbing. I'm sure everyone who could hear the debacle thought I'd just beat him, and with the way he was reacting, I'd have thought that too. While I cleaned myself up and tried my best to assure him all was okay, huge, thick tears rolled down his cheeks.

When I finally lifted him up into my arms, I said to him, "Really now? You think the whole world needs to watch Momma potty?" Immediately he grinned that terribly sweet, mischievous smile and he was perfectly fine. Go figure.

When it was finally time to go, because there is only 2 hour parking and I don't particularly want a ticket, H was using the computers.

She asked to stay on the computer while I grabbed our jackets. Since she's not my runner and is super awesome at staying put, I agreed since I was only going 10 feet away.

Yeah, 10 feet.

10 feet away, I turned around and she was gone.

The library was sparse, I shouted her name. "H! H.P.! Where are you? H! I need you to speak to Mommy, please."

Silence.

Utter, dead silence.  I walked down a few aisles of books to no avail, keeping my eye on B who was hogging the water fountain and bathing his jacket in it.

"H!" I yelled again.

Nothing. At this point, I was definitely feeling panicky. My heart was racing and my face was hot. Immediately I was sure someone had kidnapped her and I hadn't managed to see him go past me to get to the exit.

And then.

Then. There she was. In the middle of an aisle, trying her best to hide.

"H!" She looked at me, smiled, and took off.

I refused to run after her, and she stopped a few aisles down where I walked up to her, grabbed her, and told her she was never, ever allowed to run or hide from Mommy. That Momma had been very scared something had happened to her. She seemed pretty sorrowful, but regardless, I'll probably have anxiety about that now.

When we finally made it out to the car they decided then that they wanted their bagels from earlier.

Thank God I'd had the sense to bring them with.

And it's only Monday.