Saturday Fest Day

Everyone kind of woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Oh boy! I was afraid it'd just be bad news bears all day.

Thankfully, that was not the case.

We hit up the Farmer's Market, Hispanic Fest, and then spent a long afternoon and evening at Oliver's Wine Fest. I could say a lot, but I'm exhausted, so I will just let the pictures tell the stories.

 H makes this face about 40 times a day. I love it. Everything is an amazing surprise to her. Here, she saw a bug (and this was a good, happy face!).

 

 When B realized he was not hungry for his favorite French food, he was deeply displeased.

 

 Playing slaphands with their favorite Farmer's Market vendor.

 

 H took this picture. She's awesome, per usual.

 

 There is nothing quite like a girl dancing with her papa.

 

 That smile!

 

 Preparing for a handful of palomitas!

 

Target acquired!

 He was determined to pull this plant out. I tried to stop him, but one of the Oliver employees said to let him go at it. I was happily wine tasting so who was I to argue?

 

 They can always find something to climb no matter where we go!

 

 No worries, that was water!

 

 If you can see the little bitties (look for the green shirt); they were happily utilizing their independent skills to stand in line and purchase a bottle of water while Momma stood in a different (looooong) line to order their grilled cheese. They were quite proud of themselves.

 



Courtesy of H

H was a bit disgruntled she couldn't take a family picture of all of us herself and that someone else did it.

 

 

Despite the rough start this morning, it was an awesome day. I love these amazing people.

 

In which we attended a parenting class

When I told J last week, while he was on travel, that I'd registered us to attend a positive parenting class he first response was, "Why? We are such awesome and kind parents. I don't think we could possibly get any more awesome."

This is just one of the reasons I adore him, ha.

I obviously think we are great parents, too - I mean, who thinks they're not? We are all doing what we feel is best for our children and family. I don't think too many parents say, "Oh, I'm going to do x because I know it's really awful."

I read parenting books and articles out the wazoo because I am human. I am not perfect, I make mistakes, and I'm always ready to learn new things that might work for us or that I hadn't thought of before.

And so while much of what was said at the class we all ready knew and followed as it was all stuff that Dr. Laura and Alfie Kohn discuss and they're pretty much my Holy Bible of parenting, she certainly dished out some super insightful information as well.

Perhaps the most insightful was that although children are capable of doing x, it doesn't mean they always can. Her analogy was that she's a runner, and in the morning she can run ten miles. But if after running those ten miles someone were to ask her to run another ten miles, it just wouldn't happen. Yes, she is capable of running ten miles. She just did. But now at this moment she cannot.

So that made me stop and go "Ooooooooh!" Definitely an aha! moment. I know that I get super stuck on the fact that H or B can do something, but then when they don't later on it seriously frustrates me. But it makes sense. Depending on the situation, the day, the time, etc., they truly just may not be able to do it, even if they did earlier. And I'd never thought about it that way.

The other great insight she gave to me pertained to B specifically. B is aggressive. Sometimes. The other times he's the sweetest most loving doll baby you've ever met. But when he's aggressive, he can be intense. And generally saying things like, "Hitting hurts Momma" and "You're really upset" which often works in many other situations, just does not help when he gets into the super aggressive frame of mind. And thus, after a warning, I typically remove him from the situation to play in his room alone.

Oh, I've justified this to myself a million times although it always felt wrong. I'm not putting him in a time-out. He's free to play. He can come out on his own when he is ready to be nice. Etc., etc.

It still felt wrong. I still knew it was wrong on some level; I just couldn't put my finger on it.

And in a nutshell she said, "You're leaving him alone. You're telling him that at his very worst, you can't handle him. You only love him and want to be around him when he's behaving how you'd prefer."

And that really clicked for me. We don't let the people we love be upset and hurt by themselves. If J was mad or sad I wouldn't say, "Dude, go somewhere else until you're ready to put on a smile because your feelings are making me uncomfortable." So why the fuck was I doing that to my 3 year old?

Well, enough is enough. I am obviously not going to do that again. I'll stay with him. Even if it takes forever. Because my love is not conditional and I will prove that to him. I can handle those big feelings of upset. I can.

There was obviously a ton more that was discussed, but as I said, it was all ready the non-punitive and gentle way we parent. It made me feel really good though to see so many people there, especially dads because I feel like they get such a bad rap, wanting to learn and willing to change from previous generations.

It's hard to break a cycle. But I have a lot of faith that by the time my children are parents, the cycle will be mostly broken. That by then, enough children will have been raised with compassion and empathy that it will spread. So maybe my grandchildren will be the first generation of children raised with kindhess instead of fear. What a thought! How amazing would that be?

We probably won't go to another class, but I won't negate we did get some good info. But I will keep reading. I will keep utilizing new tools. I will keep making mistakes. I will keep apologizing. And I will keep doing better.

Because I'm learning. One moment at a time, I'm learning.

One week down

Well, we have somehow survived week one of school...mostly intact.

Their first day was great for both of them.

But then it just went downhill. For H.

B loves it. He'd gladly go every day instead of just his two!

But H...oh, my sweet, lovely H girl.

Drop off is painful. I'm not sure I have it in my person to do it. If it weren't for the fact that I pick her up and she is incredibly happy and when we talk about school at night she has nothing but good things to say and is excited for the next day, or the fact that she is elated to go up until the moment we walk in the classroom door....I'd probably have pulled her out all ready.

She screams. She cries. She begs me not to leave her. It breaks my heart. It's so unnatural to me. It hurts my soul.

I was just not created to be the kind of person to walk away from my screaming child and leave her.

And yet, for the three days now, I have.

I've not yet quite figured out what that says about me as a mother or a human being, but quite frankly, I know there is no way to twist is around and justify it and make it a good thing.

Which makes me only a worse person to openly admit that I will do it all again next week.

Why?

Good question.

I'm not even sure I have that answer.

Why am I putting my sweet girl through this kind of distress at drop off when I clearly don't have to? When I don't even plan on sending her to school next year?

Because she asks me to.

Because when she is all smiles after school and says great things, I know she had a great time and is enjoying it.

Because when we cuddle in bed at night talking about her day, she tells me how much she loves it and cannot wait to go back.

I can't say we will make it the whole school year. That's totally up to H. But we will make it as long as she wants to keep going.

B on the other hand, he loves it. I hardly get a good-bye from him. He'd rather me not show up when it's pick-up time, and he's less than impressed that he doesn't get to go every day.

It's really interesting seeing how this all plays out with their different personalities.

I think I'm doing the right thing. Think being the operative word here.

And if not, well, at least she'll have something to talk about in therapy in 20 years...

 

She wears the best outfits!

I get to help you deal with those big feelings.

In the past 6 months B has mellowed out a ton with his sister. He used to be really be aggressive toward her, but lately, I think it's more normal sibling antagonism, which is a lot easier to handle.

Let's just say that B's aggressive stage has been super hard. Especially when a lot of outside people have told us to be aggressive back - spank him, bite him back, yell at him, etc. Those things just never made sense to me - how in the world do I say "We don't hit" and then hit him?

Don't get me wrong, it hasn't been easy, but we've come leaps and bounds in the past year.

But today. Oh, boy. Today.

I was getting stuff out to make dinner and the babes were playing outside (oh, don't get your panties in a twist. The door was open and I could see them the whole time).

Suddenly, I hear H scream. Truthfully, I don't pay a ton of attention anymore when she screams, because she screams about everything. A gnat flew within a mile of her - scream. Someone looked at her cross-eyed - scream. I've come to know when her screams actually mean something.

This time, it did.

I looked up and saw her on her bike, B a foot away from her with a look to slay. I sprinted out the door just as he raised both little hands and clobbered her shoulder and arm.

"Whoa!" I shouted, pulling B away from H and immediately showering H in love. "Oh my goodness, that must have hurt, mijita! Are you okay?"

She cried for a second but then was, of course, fine.

Honestly, whatever it was, she likely started. She really loves pushing him over the edge. And B only has as much self-control as the next 3 year old. Regardless, we obviously don't condone violence - of any sort.

"I think you need to come inside with me to calm down," I said to B, who was all ready crying. I sat him on the kitchen counter and gave him a glass of milk while I finished seasoning the cod and put it in the oven.

When we were both done I looked at him all bleary-eyed and pitiful. "Wow," I said, "You must have been really frustrated to hurt your sister like that."

He looked at me and snarled, "She hit me!"

"And that made you mad?"

"So mad!"

I nodded. "It would make me mad if someone hit me, too. And it would make me sad. Because we don't hit, most especially people we love. But you all ready know that."

This time B nodded.

"What do you think we should do next time you get so mad that you want to hit your sister?"

He shrugged.

"What would Daniel Tiger do if he got that mad?"

Immediately B beamed and sang the famous (in the preschool-world anyway!) Daniel Tiger mad song, "When you get so mad that you want to roar - take a deep breath and count to four. 1-2-3-4." Then he stopped and looked at me and said, "But Momma, sometimes it doesn't work. I'm still so mad."

I nodded. I understood. If I had a dollar for every time I need more than just a count to four to not be so frustrated, I could afford to send my kids to college. Now. And get their PhDs.

"Do you know who I am?" I finally asked after thinking about his comment for moment, taking his tiny hands into mine and making sure I was eye-level with him.

"Momma," he answered.

"That's right. Do you know who's Momma I am?"

"Mine," he replied.

"Do you know what that means?"

He shrugged his tiny shoulders.

"It means that I get to help you whenever you need help. I get to help you deal with those big feelings. And if you are so frustrated that you just can't handle those big feelings all by yourself, you come find me no matter what I'm doing, and I will always stop and help you. I want to help you with those big feelings because I'm your momma."

"What will you do?" he asked me.

"What do you want me to do to help you?"

"A big hug," he answered.

I wrapped my arms around that sweet, tiny body. "I will give you a great big hug any time you want. And probably a lot of times you don't want. You're my best boy."

"You're my best mom," he smiled.

And that was it. I helped him off the counter and watched him run outside to his sister. He enveloped her in a great big hug and she reciprocated. He kissed her cheek. My heart melted.

I won't lie, this gentle, peaceful parenting stuff is not always easy. Sometimes I have to count to 4 myself, or more like 400, but it's interactions like these, that make me realize that it's all freaking worth it. Because man, these kids are amazing little people.

H and B do school

It's crazy the changes as a person and a parent that you make for the good of your kids. Well, typically for the good anyway.

I said I'd never sleep with my kids, and yet now I couldn't imagine not snuggling with my teeth-grinding, sleep-talking 4.5 year old. And Lord knows that was never my intention.

I didn't want to put my kids in school. And I feel like the more resolved I became that I would never do it, the more determined they became to go.

And so here we are. Their first day of school.

I thought I'd cry.

I didn't.

I don't know what that says about me.

I guess it is hard to be upset when your kids are just so excited. They were bouncing off the walls this morning, ready to go at 7am.

School doesn't' start for them until 9am.

My little sister stopped by to wish them well on their first day of school. They were more focused on getting to school than on hanging out with Aunt B, so that tells you a lot. It typically isn't an easy feat separating them from Aunt B.

They both picked out their own outfits. In fact, I took them back to school shopping for a special first day of school outfit. H swindled me into buying her two because, you know, the weather here is so unpredictable - how were we to know if it'd be hot or cold? Very clever girl.

B chose a shirt with a bear and some squeaky cowboy boots - so very B of him - but then decided with a different get-up for today. Mostly, the hat made the outfit. When I sent J a pic (because he's gone for a few weeks) he was very proud of our cheeky boy.

You can hardly tell that it was raining in those photos! By the time it was pick-up time it was pouring. That was fun...

Anyway, they were eager little beavers for school. They wanted to pack their own snacks and I let them. H chose sliced cucumber, sunflower seeds and grapes. B opted for sliced cucumbers, raisins and grapes.

And we were off! A whole new adventure for this little clan.

(We ordered new backpacks and matching lunch boxes, but they haven't come in yet. Fortunately they were good troopers about having to wait for them!)

 

 

B insisted on being dropped off first. I hardly got a "bye" out of him and he was completely oblivious that I was in the room talking to one of his teachers for a solid 5 minutes. Yes, I'm totally going to be *that* mom, and I'm okay with that. These people are responsible for my kids for 3 hours! It's important.

 

I super, super love both of B's teachers. He has two males teachers, which I think is great for him. I think guys can typically handle kids being kids a little easier. 

 

 

And then we were off to Miss H's building. She was so excited she could hardly contain herself. It made it super hard for me to have as much anxiety about the situation as I'd anticipated.

 



 

And just like that, my babies started school.

I'm really, really glad we had the ability to do half day K, because I cannot even fathom all day right now. She was still in a great mood after school and full of her normal energy.

Of course, it's not without faults. I had to bite my tongue when reading the weekly newsletter of what they'd be doing. Learning the letters "Ii" and "Uu"..."but my kid can read all ready!" I wanted to say. But I didn't. Because it's school. And that's how school goes. It's not tailor-made for each kid, which really, I suppose is my biggest issues with it anyway.

But if H isn't complaining, I'm not complaining. We're still doing our own school stuff of her choosing at home, and if she's having fun there, that's really all that matters. It isn't forever.

They both talked non-stop about all the things they did and the new friends they made on the car ride home.

They both had a blast and are very eager to return. I'm not sure how B is going to handle it when we drop off his sister tomorrow and he has to come home with me! (He only goes T/Th).

Alas, I'm glad their first day was a good one. It's all I could have asked for.



B is 3!

B is 3! Officially.

Things he loves:

- the color blue.
- Daniel Tiger and Handy Manny.
- all things chocolate. And chocolate. And a bit more chocolate. And pizza.
- playing soccer and doing gymnastics.
- all things super heroes, most especially Batman, Spider-man, and Ninja Turtles.
- bug-hunting
- doing tricks on the monkey bars
- gardening
- riding his tricycle
- dinosaurs!
- painting
- play-dough
- swimming
- fire trucks and firefighters
- getting dirty
- making messes
- helping momma cook
- helping papa build things
- listening to music and playing all instruments
- dogs
- his big sister

 

Growing up and changes

Go figure. Once I get my act together enough that we are doing "school" here on a regular basis, they're both off to school in 1.5 weeks.

Ahhh! How can that be so soon!?

Is it terrible that a part of me hopes they hate it? Yes, yes, I know it's terrible. I hope they hate it and immediately don't want to continue going. Of course, I would never say that to them. I just smile and enjoy their enthusiasm. And I do hope they love it, too. I hope it is a fun, blossoming experience for them.

It's awesome to see how much they grow every day. To witness all the things they learn.

Today, B and I were working on a coloring sheet. It had 10 different ships, each to be colored different colors. In February, he couldn't tell you a single color. Today he knew all of them except "gray." When did that happen!?

A week from tomorrow he'll be three. It is all just blowing by so quickly. I really love this adventure, but sometimes I wish it would slow the heck down.

Last night, when H was in the car coming home from ballet class she said to me, "Momma, I really, super love this ballet class. It's so much fun and I'm learning so much. But Momma...now I really still want to be in the Nutcracker someday, but...well, this class is just too late. I'm so tired and should be in bed. I really don't think it's a good idea."

I was kind of floored, especially because I had just been talking to a friend of mine during her class about how I wasn't sure how this would work out, especially once kindy starts as she is asleep 1.5 hours later on the night she has ballet than typical. And when you're 4.5 that is a lot of sleep to be missing out on.

I'm so impressed and proud of how mature she is. That she has the ability to separate her fun from her needs. That she can acknowledge she loves ballet, but also realize it is simply too much, too late in the day for her.

I agreed that she could just do her Wednesday dance class which begins at 4:30pm, and forgo the Tuesday night class after next week. We might as well finish out the month that has been paid for since it is only one more week.

I feel like every time we have a good routine down, it gets turned upside down and changed. Kind of like now. In a week and half it will all change. Again.

The truth is, I like change. I kind of thrive on change. When change hasn't happened enough for me, I start changing everything in the house. And J...well, he's not really one for change, so that just throws him off. So it's better that just our routine change.

But I'm excited for all the big changes coming up in our lives. I'm ready to embrace them, and tackle them head on. I'm ready to watch my children in their ventures of kindergarten and preschool. They're growing up...day by day.