Wednesday, November 27, 2013

More than just a number

Just a day or two before I graduated high school I was given a copy of my high school transcript, complete with my GPA.

I graduated high school (and later college) with honors. I had those chords to tout it and all.

I was the president of NHS.

But I had a GPA of something like 3.89 or equally ridiculous.

I was devastated.

Freaking devastated.

Mostly because no one had ever told me that I was more than just a number. That I mattered more than a test score or my GPA.

I remember my dad told me I was being silly for being upset. I was smart and had done well and besides, it didn't make a difference for my college or anything.

And in retrospect it was silly.

But at that moment, it wasn't. To me, it was failure. Utter failure.

I had failed.

It didn't help that I wasn't graduating in the top 10. I was 11.

Eleventh. In a class of 200.

But I was only eleventh.

Failure.

When I was in early elementary school I vividly remember receiving my report card on the last day of school and breaking down in tears. I told my teacher I couldn't see my mom, I didn't want her to pick me up from school because she wouldn't love me anymore (and no, my mom never once said her love was contingent on my grades, ha).

I had a B+ in math for the last quarter.

In math. My least favorite subject. The greatest thorn in my side.

I was like 7. And all ready I was so choked up and freaked out over grades.

If I collected one single tear from each crying session I had over grades during the first 18 years of my life - just one tear from each session - I could fill the Black Sea and then some.

I wish that someone had told me the truth. That somewhere in the midst of all that stress and heartache someone had whisper words of wisdom into my ear and said, "Ki, it doesn't matter. At the end of the day, none of this will matter."

If only I'd known.

Yes, yes, of course, if you are in a school system you have to make the grades up to x for college, yadda yadda yadda. I get all that. But a B+ in the second grade wasn't going to make or break me.

A 99% on a history test instead of 100% wouldn't prevent me from being a history major.

An 84% on a chemistry paper wouldn't affect my overall grade if I did well on everything else.

I wish I'd known.

I see glimpses of my crazy perfectionist self in H sometimes. It scares me.

I've grown so much in the past 5 years. I'm such a better, calm, laid back, go-with-the-flow girl. Occasionally I will feel the anxiety setting in when I get caught up with a kiddo and burn the green beans, and then I take a breath and bring myself back down to earth and remind myself, "It doesn't matter."

Because it doesn't.

I hope H and B never ever feel that overwhelming stress I did as a kid who was less than perfect. I hope they never cry themselves to sleep because they believe wholeheartedly that they've failed. That they're not good enough. That they are anything less than pure perfection in my eyes.

I hope they have no idea that people get graded on asinine things like spelling and math. That instead they simply know that you practice and practice again until you've got it done. No need to make a 6 year old feel like shit. Or a 16 year old.

I hope they know they're so much more important than a number. That they can do anything in the world that they want. And no number can make or break them.

I hope they see that their momma was brilliant. She worked hard, but never too hard or hard enough. That she always put more on her plate than she could swallow, and yet she always swallowed it in half the time anyway. Was always a little more stressed in her school days than was even remotely healthy. And for what?

All just to graduate with honors, and graduate again with honors, and to say "thanks but no thanks" to Law School and career that wouldn't have mattered even a fraction of what they matter to me, but would have deemed me "successful" by everyone else's standards. No one cares that I graduated high school with a 3.89 GPA. No one but J, my mentor, and my professor ever read my college thesis that I spent more hours than there was ever in a day to write.

I hope they realize that the only times any of that was ever worth it was when I looked at myself with my own self-satisfaction. When I was proud of myself. Not when others were.

And I hope they see their papa, who struggled through school and college. Who never had the right grades. Who is dyslexic and plagued with other learning disabilities that no one ever helped him with. I hope that they see that numbers never mattered to him in the make or break your soul way it did to me. That he said "fuck numbers" and became a kick-ass engineer anyway. Because he knew he was so much more than a number. That he worked hard for himself every day. He didn't work hard for a gold star or a high percentage number or because he feared he wouldn't be worthy if he performed less than.

I hope they know they're more than just a number.

No.

I know they will know they are more than just a number.

Because I will never put them in a position where they could possibly think otherwise.

I don't know *anything* about Santa

So H has decided she believes in Santa. Cool. I guess.

As I've said, I won't ever intentionally burst that magical bubble if it's what she wants to believe in.

But God help us all come Christmas morning when she's seriously miffed with that man.

Apparently Santa brings everything you want. I mean, you see it in the store, say, "Oh, I want Santa to bring me that." And he will. Just like that. (Unless it's a Sofia the First toy. Then Grandma J brings that, she says.)

Until H decided Santa was coming on Christmas she'd pretty much never walked into a store and said, "I want this and this and this." She just didn't. Super simple.

Now she does. Because Santa is going to bring it to her.

Apparently.

Despite the fact that I've tried to explain to her that Santa will in fact likely not bring her everything she asks for. (Or anything she asks for...crap mom, I am.)

But when I try to tell her these things, she just looks at me, eyebrows raised, mouth pinched tight, hand on her hip and says, "Mommy, you don't know anything about Santa. I can't even believe you're a human!"

Yeah...

I can't believe I'm a human some days, either.

But, alas.

I am a human.

I am her mom.

And I am her Santa.

Crap.

Shit.

Fuck.

Santa will not deliver, my sweet girl. I hate to break it to you. He just won't.

Santa sees how much stuff you all ready have.

Santa is trying to de-clutter and minimize.

Santa is trying to partake a little bit less in this consumer, materialist, keeping up with Jones's world.

So maybe it's a good thing I don't know anything about Santa.

I can just play dumb.

Because Santa is filling a stocking. And that's it. The 23,234,456,532 that have been asked for, will likely remain on the shelves of their respective stores until a way cooler Santa than I purchases them. And her kids will totally like Santa more than mine. For like .3 seconds, anyway.

Because my kids won't remember all the stuff they asked for anyway. So they'll still think Santa is pretty awesome, I'm sure.

And if not. I'm totally okay with that, too.

Monday, November 25, 2013

I am thankful

As Turkey Day Thanksgiving approaches, I feel like I should probably share the things (and people!) I'm very thankful.

And honestly, I will never be able to sum up all the things I'm thankful for. The list would be longer than the Internet would ever allow. Truly.

But I'll give it a go anyway.

I'm thankful for my children and husband. Obviously. They're the three most precious people in my life, and every second with them is a blessing. I do not take them for granted for one single second.

I'm thankful for how understanding and progressive J is. I'm thankful he's so chameleon-like and adaptable to meet all of our needs. I'm thankful he is such a sweet, passionate, and attentive husband. And I'm thankful that he's an even better papa.

I'm thankful that my two brilliant children are healthy. That despite concussions and split chins, even despite lead poisoning, I have two children who are strong and overall healthy.

I am so thankful for an amazing (ex) step-dad who has truly stepped up to the plate and been there for J and I, and has been such an amazing Grandpa to my two little babes. Every day I am thankful that he took on a role in our lives that he certainly didn't have to take.

I am thankful for my baby sister. I am thankful that I can talk to her about anything and everything without fear of judgment, even when we vehemently disagree. I'm thankful that she's made herself an available person in my children's lives and that she loves them nearly as much as I do.

I am thankful for a ridiculous amount of friends who have really pulled through and shown their true colors when needed. The friends who helped out during my lowest points of B's lead poisoning. The friends who have done small acts of pure kindness that have brought the biggest of smiles to my face. The friends who have been there for me, any day or night, when I've needed them. Sometimes I forget that I have so many friends who truly do care, so thank you for continually reminding me.

I am thankful for all the books, people and websites who have shown me this beautiful way of parenting my children gently, peacefully, and non-punitively. I don't think I would have truly ever believed that a child could be raised without punishment, but all ready I know. And it works so well and keeps us all connected and in harmony. And for all that information, I am grateful and thankful. I am a better mom, and my children will be better human beings for it.

I am thankful for mommy nights out with a great group of ladies who keep me sane on this adventure.

I am thankful for the ability and the resources to purchase healthful and whole foods. And the time to make my children and husband nutritious and real food meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sometimes I forget that that is truly a luxury.

I am thankful that some days, when I feel a little overwhelmed by financial obligations and the other things they call "life," I'm able to step back and help others out instead. And then my meager problems don't seem like such a big deal when I'm able to give to others.

I am thankful for the ability to be home with my sweet babes each day. I am thankful to be in such a fortunate position that I don't have to leave them with a nanny or in daycare/school if I don't wish to do so, but instead can be there. Until they tell me to "go away" anyway.

I'm thankful for Netflix. I can be totally materialistic here. I'm thankful it has old school shows I'm enjoying after the babes are in bed. And I'm thankful it has "The Magic School Bus" which is totally educational enough to make me happy to let H & B watch it, but is just boring enough that they rarely ask to watch more than one episode in a day.

I'm thankful that I somehow tripped into this hippie lifestyle, and that I'm continuously learning and embracing more of it. It keeps me frugal, honest, and healthy.

But really, I'm just thankful to be alive, still a part of this awesome journey, voyaging forward with the beautiful family God helped me to find, learning every day from all the wonderful people around me.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Ch-ch-changes!

One guess who used to be a die hard 7th Heaven fan.

You, if you immediately knew where the title of this post came from.

But I digress...

This week we've been working on two big changes with the kiddos (in my book they're big).

One is that we cleared out toys from the play room. They're not gone, gone by any means. But we had three shelves with toys in there. We took out two. And stuck them in the guest room. I stuck all the toys onto one shelf. And then gathered a bunch of the toys that simply "lived" on the play room floor and stuck them on there, too. On the other shelf, I filled it full of their books from their book shelf in the living room and left about a dozen on the shelf.

The babes happily helped me to do all of this, too. Probably because they knew we were not actually getting rid of anything. Let's be honest, their toys are just too freaking awesome to get rid of.

But now, after thinking in my head to do it since H was born, we are really doing a toy rotation. And it's all ready proven to be tremendously beneficial.

There are a few things that will stay out at all times. Their dress up clothes, art supplies, box of blocks, musical instruments, kitchen and foods, train table and farm. Things like puzzles, pounding blocks, various cars, other stacking blocks and shape matching, etc., etc., will get rotated, probably weekly. We'll see how it goes.

It's all ready made a tremendous difference. The stuff they play with they are truly engrossed in. They don't pull it out, and then toss it to the side three minutes later. They play with it, and then keep playing with it, and then are still playing with 45 minutes later and my mind is blown (guess what they're doing as I write this...that's right. Playing by themselves!).

They've also been entertaining themselves more happily since we've made this change. Truthfully, since B was big enough to "play" they've been pretty good at entertaining themselves while I scrub a toilet or something, but they've done so even more, which has been awesome for my ability to try to get things organized and cleaned before Turkey Day.

And most importantly, they just seem more overall content and happy and satisfied.

Our second change is that we've established "quiet time."

Currently it's only for 20 minutes, but I'd eventually like to get it up to 45 minutes. We talked about it for about a week before actually starting it.

Now, in the afternoon, I tell them that in x amount of time we are going to get ready for quiet time. When it's time, they get to choose one toy from the shelf in the guest room to take to their bedroom (they have other toys and books in their bedroom, as well. But this makes it special). We turn on their lights, open up the curtains, I make sure they're all settled in happily, have water if they want it, and then I go downstairs and set the timer for 20 minutes. When it goes off, I go back and tell them quiet time is over if they'd like. They can come back out and play downstairs.

I leave their bedroom doors open. I was hesitant at first as to whether or not they'd actually stay in their rooms and play, especially with the door open, but they totally did. Only H has left for a potty break, which obviously is totally fine.

H has said she wanted to stay in her room and continue playing after the 20 minutes is up, so I know she could totally do a longer period of time.

B, not so much. He doesn't leave his room at all, but about the last 3 minutes he's yelling at me that he's done.

I wasn't sure if this would really make a difference. They haven't napped consistently in over a year, and haven't napped at all in months.

But "quiet time" has been beneficial to everyone. I think the kids really do need that quiet time, away from each other, to just play on their own and rest from the chaos that is one another.

And quite frankly, maybe I need it too. Those 20 minutes are mine. I make a cup of coffee and read Cosmo, which my kids don't know even exists. Good times all around.

This week we've also made a "Calm Down Nook." So I guess that's three changes for the week. Not two. Good thing I'm not a mathematician.

Well, we go back and forth between calling it the "Calm Down Nook" and the "Quiet Nook." I'm not sure which is better. Anyway, we have a bench on the landing of our stair case that sits in front of a window. So we hung up a "Be kind" and "You are my sunshine" picture, and I compiled a basket with a few calming books, stuffed animals, paper, colored pencils, stickers, and their "mad jar." And I plan to make some pillows, maybe this evening, to stick there, too.

It's all ready helped H a ton. When she gets frustrated or upset she stomps her little feet and immediately walks right up there and finds something to do that calms her down. All I did was show it to her and tell her what it's purpose was. She will even say to me now, "Mom, B is really frustrating me. I'm going to calm down." And that's that.

B hasn't quite caught on, which is totally fine. So we go there together to calm down.

But that's a difference between H and B anyway. H typically wants her space when she's upset. B needs you right nearby. And that's more than okay.

Before, they were going to their rooms to calm down, but is seemed too much like banishment or punishment to me, and I really hated the icky feeling it left in the pit of my stomach, so I could only imagine how they felt.

Now on the stairs, they are far enough removed from the situation where they can breathe and collect themselves, but not so far that it seems like they're in trouble. It's a great median. (And is great if I have to help B, that H doesn't feel like I've completely abandoned her in the process.)

So this week has been full of a lot of ch-ch-changes. All of which H and B have adapted to beautifully, and I'm glad we've finally made the time to incorporate.

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

A reminder that I failed

I will admit that most days are easy. Too easy, maybe.

But then I get thrown those doozies.

The days that are hard. Oh, so hard.

The days when my typically sweet and loving 2 year old is so violent I have to leave him to play alone in his own room so that he is safe and H is safe. When my typical gentle and empathetic 2 year old seems like he's possessed.

And on those days, though rare, few and far between, those are the days that make we wonder, "Is this what they were talking about?" The doctors and nurses who worked so vigilantly with me when he was first diagnosed with lead poisoning.

Is this it?

While he spent every single day in my care - playing with the toys I provided him, riding in the car seat I had prudently researched, living in our dream house - every single moment, spent with me, in the "perfect" environment...being poisoned. Every day, poisoned a little more.

And a little more.

Those are the days when the wind gets knocked out of me and I find myself on my knees, making all kinds of crazy bargains with God. Because that's what people do when they're scared, I suppose.

I promise God that if this is the "neurological behavior disorders" that I was warned and schooled about, that if He just let's it go away and never happen again, I'll do anything.

I won't be even slightly annoyed when one of my kids wake up for the umpteenth time in the middle of the night. I'll stop and play with them no matter what I'm in the middle of if they ask. I won't ever act like I'm running low on energy and I'll be even more present in their lives (if that's even possible). I will do anything.

Always, B is amazing. Always, I adore him. On rare occasions,  he becomes another person. A baby boy I don't quite recognize. Someone so scared and lost inside of his own body, clearly unable to control what is going on, scared, and I don't know the right way to help him. So I hold him and I rock him. When he's too violent I put him in his own room for everyone's safety. And I curse myself for letting this happen to him.

For letting my baby get poisoned by the things I gave him. The environment I put him in.

Fuck, those days are hard. Knowing I allowed something terrible to violate my sons body, and I just stood idly by, completely unaware. Until it was too late.

Yeah, most days are easy. But then I get drop kicked off my high horse, and am forced to vividly remember and experience my greatest failing as human being and as a mother. And no amount of peaceful parenting or self-forgiveness could ever make that situation right.

So I accept it. I hold that sweet boy a little too tightly, love him more than I think is possible, and hope that some day when he's old enough to understand, he'll forgive me. The person who was supposed to keep him safe; the person who was supposed to protect him always; and failed.

Monday, November 18, 2013

I'm too lazy for Elf on the Shelf

Elf on the Shelf is all the rage.

Our local Barnes and Noble has had them out for two weeks now and have sold over 100. No joke.

Last year I loved seeing all the photos of my friends who do Elf on the Shelf and the hilarious predicaments the elf found himself in. I loved the creativity and intricacies that went into prepping the elf each night for their little one to discover the next morning.

The first time I mentioned the idea to J he said absolutely not. I agreed, so that was easy. We don't "do" Santa, so why would we do this? We also don't believe in bribery or threatening. We would never tell our children that if they don't behave the way we prefer, some creepy looking doll is going to tell the tooth fairy Santa and then not bring him toys.

I don't want my kids to think they get toys simply because they behave well for the month of December. And I don't want my kids to behave well simply because they're being bribed with toys. (Not to mention we don't really buy them Christmas presents anyway, so it would be a terrible bribe/threat.)

BUT...yes, yes, there is a but here. I LOVE the adorableness of simply finding a silly imp each morning who has gotten himself into mischief. I love the fun and creativity that goes into it.

Kind of like the idea of Dinovember (you've heard of that right? Totally adorable idea just like Elf of the Shelf only it's a pack of dinosaur toys getting into mischief for the month of November). Totally adorable and fun with no threatening or bribery going on behind the scenes. I love that.

And on that level, I've totally considered Elf on the Shelf. Forget the book that goes with it, just do it for fun.

But I think I'm too lazy.

I haven't completely thrown the idea out the window yet. I still have a few more weeks to make up my mind.

I just feel like coming up with a new idea each night and setting it up sounds exhausting when I still have floors to sweep and toilets to scrub and meals to prep and a husband to cuddle and some Netflix to watch (yes, yes, I'm not pretending that all I do is work. Just mostly).

So I don't know. Maybe as a fun little idea we will do Elf on the Shelf. Take the reporting back to Santa out of it and all.

Maybe not.

I am pretty lazy.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

I hate food

I hate food. Hate, hate, hate it!

And I don't mean eating it. I love eating food.

I mean grocery shopping. Cooking. Meal planning.

I hate going into the grocery store and always feeling defeated. I always over or under buy (and then end up having to go again later in the week). I always spend way too much money. And on the rare occasions that I don't feel like I've spent an astronomical amount of money, I stop off at Bfoods to replenish the kids' nut and seed obsession, and I fix that feel-good moment real quick.

I really dislike like meal planning. I don't have a good system down. So then I don't meal plan half the time (okay, most of the time) and end up flying by the seat of my pants, throwing whatever together last minute. Or worse. Ordering take out.

I know that a lot of people have this whole meal planning thing down. I don't. But I know it works. Because other people do it. I just need to figure it out.

And the actual task of cooking.

Agh. I don't enjoy it. At all.

I like "fun cooking." So making cookies with the kids or whatever. But the daily, mundane, monotonous meal cooking. No, siree. Not at all.

If I'm really in the mood, then I can enjoy it. But mostly I don't. Because I'd rather be doing something else. Play with my kids. Reading a book. Folding laundry. Scrubbing a toilet. Pretty much anything other than cooking.

And most "quick" meals don't really mesh with our eating style. So the only quick meal I've come to rely on is chicken legs and sautéed garlic green beans. Which, I admit, we eat a lot. Like, too often. Sometimes more than once a week.

I really try to always have one meat and two veggies. But then we get stuck in ruts. Lots of chicken and green beans/brussel sprouts/broccoli.

And honestly, no one is every complaining, except for me, so I guess it's okay.

But really. I just hate food.

Monday, November 11, 2013

A conversation about Santa

Most people who follow this blog regularly know that I'm quite conflicted about Santa (and the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, etc.). On the one hand, I want my kids to have the childhood magic. On the other, I will just never be the person who can lie to her kids. No matter how magical the lie may be. Which is why J and I have pretty much come to the decision to leave it up to them. We won't blatantly tell them Santa and co. isn't real, but we also won't actually say they are. We'll leave it up to them and what they choose to believe.

Well, this evening H put on a pair of Carter's jammies with Santa Claus on it.

"Look!" she squealed. "It's Santa Claus! I can wear these for him on Christmas." I just nodded and smiled. "I just love him!"

"Why?" I asked.

"He brings me presents on Christmas," she declared.

"Do you think Momma and Papa give you presents on Christmas?" I queried.

"Well, you both do," she answered.

"Oh," I said.

"And Thanksgiving. Does he come on Thanksgiving?"

"I don't think so," I said.

"Oh. Well, Santa is just pretend, you know. He's in a story."

"Oh, he is?" I said.

"Yep...Well, the real Santa Claus lives with the princesses somewhere else on Earth."

"What?"

"Like in that book with the train in North Pole. That's just a story Santa. The real one doesn't live there."

"Oh, okay." I mean seriously, what do you say that? Apparently Saint Nick gets to live with a flock of princesses.

Now I'm just confused about what my daughter believes. I think she knows that the stories and movies with Santa are pretend, but that maybe there is a real one somewhere that lives with Princesses? Is this the one who is bringing her toys? I'm kind of hoping not, because his taste might not be up to par.

Anyway, as Christmas approaches much too fast I'm sure H and I will get to have a few more conversations to see where her beliefs rely. Because wherever they are, I certainly don't want to be the one to sully them.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

Come to Mary moments

I occasionally have those Come to Mary moments when I'll be talking with a friend and they'll say something like, "Well, I was reading your blog and..."

It totally stops me in my tracks. For lots of reasons. This blog has been going strong for over a year now. I can see how many people read it, though I can't see who reads it. I was floored the first time I realized I had several followers from other countries. Countries I didn't know people from.

But when it comes to my actual friends...it's comforting. Empowering.

Mostly because I don't sugar-coat anything. I'm blunt. I have a lot of opinions a lot of people don't agree with. Opinions a lot of my friends don't agree with (dare I say most of my friends? Ha!)

And yet I still have friends.

It makes me respect my friends all that much more, honestly. That we can have differing opinions about such an array of topics, and they don't feel persecuted or defensive. That they know I'm not targeting them or saying they're wrong or any of the things that would go in line with that.

I am humbled that my friends know I respect them. That when I say something like "I don't believe in time out" and it's their number #1 parenting tool, they know I'm not saying a single word about them or their parenting choices and that I love and adore them just the same, even if we do things differently.

I love that I have friends who have no problem calling me out when they have an issue with something I say. I love that I have friends who feel just as strongly in their beliefs as I do mine; whether they are the same as mine or not.

It's always so great to hear when someone tells me that I've said something that resonates with them or has sparked them to do some research or change things in their home to be more gentle.

I don't pretend to have it all figured out. I don't. I've learned so much throughout the course of this blog. Especially about parenting.

I went from being pretty old-fashioned, a bit militant in punishment. Then something just clicked and I realized that I could not do that to my kids. I could not be that kind of parent. And I knew what kind of kids that produced, and I didn't want that for my kids either.

Then I was completely permissive for a solid 2 months because I had no idea how to not be authoritative and punitive but still have rules and boundaries and discipline. That time was incredibly hard. Internally I was a hot mess. Totally and completely clueless of how to change or fix the issue.

And then I found that solid, stable ground of gentle, loving, non-punitive parenting. And it's been awesome. Difficult and trying, and there is always so much criticism, but oh-well. It's still been awesome. And my kids are awesome.

It's not perfect. I've not pretended otherwise. Everyone who reads this knows pretty much every "issue" that's arisen. You know every epic meltdown and tantrum. Every shortcoming and failing I've had. I've never pretended or ignored it. Because I think it's important for you all to know that it's not easy. And that we're very real people, raising very real children, to the best of our know-how as of today. Maybe we will know something better tomorrow.

I'm always astonished by all the things I've learned since becoming a mom. I looked at a photo of Miss H when she was only a few days old, buckled in her carseat. I was horrified to look at it. She was not even remotely safe in that seat. I think of how as a newborn I held her on my lap down the highway once because she just wouldn't stop screaming otherwise. How I leaned over her car seat to nurse her. All. The. Time. Things I know so much better now to never, ever do. And I would never do them again. Heck, I'm pretty much the only person I know who still has a 3.5 year old still rear facing. But that's because I know and understand the physics now.

And because I watched a friend bury her 3 year old just a few short months ago. And that only reinforced my belief to keep H rear facing, as J and I had been talking about switching her just of the fun of it. We won't. Not until she is 45 lbs or 43" tall. Whichever comes first. Even if it's not until she's 7.

So many, many things I've learned. About parenting. About health. About relationships and marriage and daily life.

And despite having learned all of these things, I still don't know much at all. Not even remotely.

But I am so glad that you all are on this learning journey with me. That even we don't always see eye to eye, I have amazing friends to fall back on to and who will discuss our differences with me to help me better understand their side. And who will take the time to try and understand my side too.

So yes, I have my Come to Mary moments sometimes. Today is one of them.

Today I'm thankful for my friends. All of them. Young, old, male, female, childless, whatever. It doesn't matter. You're all amazing.

Friday, November 8, 2013

It's hard, but so worth it.

I read this today, and I loved it so much I posted it on my facebook. Twice.

It was a really good reminder. Something that I needed today, after an awesome morning followed by an afternoon of whining and fighting and me on the brink of losing my mind.

This whole gentle, peaceful parenting thing isn't easy. Like at all.

Yelling is easy.

Hitting/spanking is easy.

Time-outs are easy.

Threats are easy.

Bribes are easy.

But being patient. Fuck. Not easy at all.

Not yelling at someone who is yelling at you.

So not easy.

Listening to the same whine for the umpteenth time and calmly replying for the umpteenth time without snapping or banishing the whiner.

Not easy.

Watching your child push the button on the blender after you'd said it wasn't ready yet and not completely freaking out.

Not easy either.

Talking calmly and gently to an aggressive 2 year old.

Not easy.

Talking calmly and gently to a sassy 3 year old.

Even more not easy.

But this article, it was a beautiful reminder. A very helpful reminder right now.

Why J and I do it. Why we chose this way to parent our children. Why we put on the breaks when we started heading down time-out ally nearly 2 years ago and knew it wasn't right for us. Why we read until our eyeballs bled, and talked until our throats were raw to make sure we were on the same page.

Why we are there to give the other reprieve when the day is just so hard and we need someone else to be the calm, level-headed, fun parent while we collect ourselves by taking a solo shower or reading the news online so that we don't do or say or outburst in a way that we'd later regret.

It's a reminder that although we've made things a little tougher on ourselves right now in some ways - there is no easy or immediate fix to our children's unwanted behaviors - only long-term solutions, we've made things so much easier on ourselves in the long term. And more importantly - on them.

Because they will be leaders, not obedient followers. They will confidently say "no" and know that their "no" matters and will not be punished - whether to us or to the kid offering them a joint. Because they won't have issues with their parental relationships that will make them question every other relationship in their lives.

Because they will know due to the way we've treated him what is acceptable and what is not. They will know that they are worth more than being yelled at, belittled, shut down, ignored or hit by anyone.

So sometimes it's hard. Impossible almost.

But worth it. So worth it.

Because as the Organic Sister said, "This is parenting for the long-term. For the big picture. So remind yourself, through all these messy years when there are boogers dragged across the walls, and screaming matches over LEGO, and the first time they ever steal something, and words you wish you’d never taught them, and everyone is so kind as to point out their perfectly manicured children who never talk back or make mistakes because they’d get their ass whooped if they did…

Remind yourself that real, mindful, conscious, organic, peaceful, respectful parenting doesn’t look good in the beginning, in the same way a freaking souffle doesn’t look like a souffle until it comes out of the oven. (And if you keep poking and prodding it’s not gonna come out looking like a souffle at all.)

This kind of parenting doesn’t come with instant gratification like spanking and threatening and shaming does.

Instead it comes with real gratification, the kind that comes when one day they are taller than you and out there making their impact on the world with the kind of tools you modeled for them."

And that's what matters.

Long-term.

Even if the some of the days getting there are really dang hard. I will never regret showing kindness and compassion to my children. Not ever.

A little lesson in money

I've never really talked money with H & B. I mean, I've handed them money to pay for their own treats at the café, and they've stuck quarters in the parking meters for me, but an actual concept of it.

Nope.

They rarely ask for anything other than Starbucks and books, and I rarely say no. And truthfully, most the "stuff" is all me and J. They could care less for the most part.

The past few months with furlough and our house in NM being on the market, I've occasionally told them no books this week, but perhaps next week. They were always amenable to it, so I never needed to explain more to them. And I'm not sure how I would have in a way not completely over their heads anyway.

I know a lot of people (most maybe?) all ready "do money" with their kids by H's age, whether it be through allowance or whatnot. Maybe I've been doing them both a disservice, I don't know.

Anyway, they recently chose some toys to get rid of that they no longer play with. They took part in choosing which ones and were there to see them go. They'd been asking for some new craft supplies, so I took them to Hobby Lobby this morning.

With the holidays fast approaching I didn't want this turn to into a complete budget blower. The kids and I in a craft store can get crazy really quickly.

So I took out two $20 bills and told them that they had $40 to spend total. (Maybe that was too much. I haven't decided yet). They could get whatever craft stuff they wanted, but it had to cost no more than $40. And it also had to include glue sticks and new washable markers (which they were out of).

I was so super impressed.

Like ridiculously.

They wanted puff balls. And after quite some time of examining each package, they agreed on three different packages - red, sparkly purple, and a mixed package. With no arguing.

Then we moved onto foam stickers. They had a little trouble there deciding on which they wanted, and if they got more than one package it would really put a damper on their budget. I casually pointed out a pack of sparkly foam stickers clearanced at $2 and they immediately jumped on that.

Then they chose some regular washable markers, and decided to splurge on a pack of scented washable markers, too. I mean, who doesn't love to sniff markers!?

Because they're obsessed with cutting, the obviously each needed new scissors. Pink and yellow.

And a new package of construction paper - to cut up, of course!

Then they each chose a Christmas foam kit. H chose a kit that made 24 foam gingerbread houses. B's makes foam birds. They happily agreed to share with each other.

Plus a huge package of glue sticks (we go through glue sticks like cookies around here). And two packages of googly eyes. Because who doesn't love googly eyes?

They were so excited to hand all their items to the lady at the check-out, and watch her ring each thing up. When she gave them the total, H looked at me and said, "Do we have enough money, Momma?"

I explained to her the total amount, and the amount she and B had together, and told her yes (they were pleasantly under budget). They handed over their money and were all too eager to carry their bags to the car.

They looked at each item over and over on the drive home, and immediately got to crafting upon our arrival.

I think I will definitely be doing this more often. Giving them money for certain things and being there as a guide for them if things get tricky. Though they did awesome, I don't even know if they need me, ha! If anything, I was the problem. Because I had to fight the urge to buy other craft things for them that looked cool to me, and just purchase them outside of their "budget." But I didn't. Because this was an awesome teaching and learning lesson for all of us.

They are more than capable for figuring this kind of stuff out and compromising and agreeing with each other. And sticking to a budget.

They're probably better at it than their momma. So it was a good lesson for me, too!

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Thankful Tree

This afternoon the kiddos and I made a "Thankful Tree."

It was insightful.

1.) My kids had no idea what the word "thankful" even meant.

2.) They are thankful for strange things...like cows. Maybe that's no so strange. They really like their cheeseburgers.

3.) It is really hard not to interject. There were times that I really wanted to interject and say, aren't you thankful for so-and-so are such-and-such. But I didn't.

4.) I still have OCD tendencies, despite my best to suppress them now that I have babes, and my babes best to suppress them by virtually making them impossible to carry out on a daily basis and still allow us to have a healthy, happy home and relationship. In other words, I did. not. touch. the. tree. I helped cut pieces out and put tape on the back, but they taped it all up and put the leaves where they wanted them. And I. did. not. touch. it. Or "fix" it to make it look the way I envisioned.

Anyway, here's their tree:





And because you're probably curious, the things they're thankful for are, in nor particular order:

1.) Pigs
2.) Cows
3.) Pirates
4.) Princesses
5.) Pancakes
6.) Ballet
7.) Singing and Dancing
8.) Grandparents
9.) Marshmallows
10.) Train rides
11.) Parties
12.) Olivia
13.) Horses
14.) Mommy
15.) Papa
16.) Giving to others
17.) Snow
18.) B
19.) H
20.) Soccer
21.) Lollipops
22.) Pumpkins
23.) Dinosaurs
24.) Fuzzy Boots
25.) Tia C
26.) Restaurants
27.) Nursies
28.) Toys
29.) Dresses
30.) Gymnastics
31.) Trees
32.) Play-dough
33.) Making cake
34.) Jokes
35.) Crafts
36.) Books
37.) Music
38.) Nino and Nina
39.) Hugs
40.) Butterflies
41.) Train rides
42.) Aunt B
43.) Hippos
44.) Our house
45.) Sleeping with momma and papa

And wow. I didn't realize how many things they came up with until writing this out. So now I'm impressed. With everyone and everything.

And I'm thankful.

Oh-so thankful for more than I could ever possibly write down. But the top of my list is certainly H and B. And J. Because he's pretty stellar, too.


Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Netflix is amazing!

We just got Netflix.

I know what you're thinking, "Everyone under the sun has Netflix! And cable, etc., etc."

Well, not true.

J and I haven't had cable or anything other than TV with an antenna since we first got together. We almost didn't even have a TV, but then we changed our mind about a week before we got married. I mean, what were we going to do without a TV? Talk to each other!? Psh! We'd just spent a year doing NOTHING but talking (which caused for us to not make any friends on our marriage retreat because we legitimately new every single one of the "Newlyweds Game" questions about each other. But that's for another day...)

Anyway. We got a TV. We both agreed we were too cheap for cable or otherwise, though. We didn't really watch enough TV to make it worth it, and even if we did, we could afford a nice, small mini-vacation with what we'd pay for cable each year. Or a decent chunk of a real vacation. We like travelling more than sitting on our bums, so it made sense for us.

I will admit that after H was born I thought about cable for a bit. Because at that point I was watching TV all the time. I mean, babies are boring. Sweet, but boring. I was in a big ol' house and didn't know anyone at that point in my life. So I got to be friends with the hosts of the Today Show. Ellen became my homegirl and I watched more soap operas than I even realized existed.

And then H hit like 5 months old and things got more fun and she was awake more and the TV went off because I didn't want her watching it.

So flash forward to now.

When the kids go to bed, J and I chill out in front of the TV. We drink a glass of wine, we talk about our day, etc., etc. But the TV is on.

And TV is getting crappy these days. So we were red boxing it more and more. We finally agreed it was worth it to buy the Blu Ray player so we could access Netflix through our TV (yes, we didn't even own a Blu Ray player! You'd probably die if I told you we didn't have a microwave either, eh?).

Best. Decision. Ever.

Netflix has Eureka. And Dexter. And Dawson's Creek.

Omg, Dawson's Creek! I've seen roughly 5 or 6 episodes of Dawson's Creek. It came out when I was 10. So by the time I was old enough to be interested in it, it was going out. And I'm one of those crazy nuts who has to start something, even a TV series, from the beginning. I can't just hop in in the middle.

The kids' love it because now their one allotted Daniel Tiger for the day can be watched at anytime. It doesn't have to be at 1pm. I haven't checked yet to see if it has Charlie and Lola, but I'm thinking it's better to never know. Charlie and Lola is their most current obsession. We rent the DVDs and check out books from the library. They get to watch it in the car. And they're obsessed. Oh, so obsessed. So I'm okay with none of us ever knowing if it can be viewed inside, ha!

Netflix is seriously amazing. I know it's not a new thing; not by a long shot. But I'm always the last person to get on the bandwagon for technology stuff anyway. So it's totally new for me.

And it's awesome. There is no surfing through the channels, wishing something worth watching is on after the babes are in bed, knowing that nothing is.

Now we just get to click, click, click and watch! And it's something worth watching!

Like Dawson's Creek, bahaha!

Sunday, November 3, 2013

A Disney Surprise for H & B

We took the H & B to see Disney Junior Live! Pirates and Princess Adventure today.

Mostly I'm so incredibly impressed with myself because I kept it a surprise. And I'm terrible with surprises.

They were stoked. Like so over the moon happy that when H first realized where we were going the look on her face brought tears (happy ones!) to my eyes! There is nothing that I love than seeing pure joy on my babes' faces.

We started the day off with a late morning of 6am, despite daylights saving times. I'm attributing it to the late night trick or treating two nights before, and being all hyped on ridiculous amounts of sugar.

We ventured up to the capitol while the kiddos got their Charlie and Lola on in the back seat. I got to listen to Lola talk about her very old friend who is as old as the dinosaurs. She's 25...

We'll just pretend that I'm not also 25...

I talked Turkey Day plans over the phone with my own dad, and then just like that, we were there. To a world of 1.5 hours of Magic. Almost as good as Disney World. Okay, okay, I did say almost.

H was completely enthralled the first act while Sofia filled the stage. She kept looking at me and squealing that it was Sofia! B continuously asked for Jake. Eventually Jake came on and B "Aargh, matey!" his little heart out, while singing and dancing. It was a hoot.

It's funny in so many ways, how Disney-fied we've gotten. I've always been leery of the princessification of little girls. I blame it all on Madonna Kolbenschlag. Google her. I'm not anti-princess, but I'm not really in love with them either. And yet Miss H has tip toed over into that world anyway.

J is anti anything that specifically markets itself toward little kids. Which obviously includes Disney.

But I loved Disney as a kid. So I'm by no means anti-Disney. Heck, we went to Disney in July and were freaking on top of the world over it. Those are some of my best memories with H & B. The whole experience was so incredibly magical and I cannot wait to do it again someday.

Of course, when I brought up this show, J was less than interested. Because of the marketing to kids thing. And because we don't have cable so he wasn't sure how into it the kids would be.

Um, yeah...they've only seen a few Jake and Sofia episodes while travelling and at other people's houses. But that's all they've needed. They're hooked.

And the experience was awesome!

Afterward we went to the Tilted Kilt for lunch. J looked at me cross-eyed and asked if I knew what it was. I was all, "Look where we are standing. Our options are Kilroys, Hooters or the Tilted Kilt. I'm hungry and totally not insecure. Let's go!" And the food was delicious.

H was having some serious behavior issues, and so we excused ourselves several times so she could collect herself in privacy, per her request. Each time I would ask her what I could to help her feel better so that she would want to be more amicable, she'd answer "Just hug me and kiss me." So I did. Several times.

Of course, we pushed it too far with being busy and went to Menards once we got back to town where H just lost her ever loving mind and we spent a good 20 minutes in the parking lot where she screamed and raged and we just stood and soothed and gave her a safe place to let it out. After that she was totally cool to go.

All in all it was a fantastic, extraordinary day.

And so worth keeping it a surprise.