How Do You Scold A Playdoh Fish During the Holidays

“Now you stay right there or there won’t be any swimming for Christmas!”

Dude. That’s harsh.

I Think I’ve Got It

Do you know why parents label their kids?

To be sure  – its because humans like lists.  Its because it makes it easier for parents to brag.  Its definitely because we like to categorize things, including our children.

But I think in some small part its also because we want to appear as though we know our children.

I joke that one child is the artist and the other child is the musician.   And its true, in part.

But recently someone asked me what my kids were ‘into’ and for a moment I just gave her a blank stare.  What are my kids ‘into’?  Nothing!  They’re not ‘into’ anything!  Nothing stands out any more than anything else.

And a moment after that I thought my head was going to explode.  They’re ‘into’ EVERYTHING!  Name something they don’t like!  If its completely new to them they’ll be ‘into’ that, too!  What they were ‘into’ yesterday – what they were ‘into’ last week – what they were ‘into’ last month, declared their boredom with, and are now ‘into’ again…

A few weeks ago a relative noticed how much one of them really likes to draw…and now we have a ridiculous amount of things to draw with…ridiculous…really…but I think I just changed the subject…

It occurred to me, when that woman asked what my kids were ‘into’ – and I couldn’t answer right away – that maybe I wasn’t paying enough attention to my kids.  That maybe I was a bad mom for not knowing my kid was the artist, or that he liked Blue’s Clues, or that he dug the movie Cars, or that he loved to play with bugs, or that he liked to play in water, or that he likes to build with blocks, or that he loves to dress up, or that he….

…my kids like a lot of stuff.  And that’s real neat.

But its still easy to label them – it sure sounds good, don’t it?

Dear Adults-

This has to be in list form – my children are revolting.  Well – you know what I mean…

1. While I don’t believe that my children should be shielded from every germ – I don’t think I want to expose them to typhoid every time we go out.  Is that what whooping cough sounds like?  At least cough into your shoulder.  Sheesh.

2.  See the sign that says this section is only for children under 3 years old?  See the other sign that says that?  Now see the five paper signs that were put up because people weren’t reading the other signs?  How about the sign that says ‘take off your shoes’?  Or ‘socks only’?  Or the children who are really short and shoeless?  Now look at your 9 year old, extraordinarily big boned, shoed children and figure out why everyone is giving you the stink eye The only thing that’s saving you is your children are not overly annoying – just normal children – which is bad enough, I’d say.

3.  Is this your older kid that pushed my little Little out of the way of the exhibit…again?  No, no – don’t let me interrupt your conversation.  We’ll handle it….again.

4.  You’re standing in our way.  Unless we’re invisible today.  Do you have children of your own?  Mine only get noisier.

5.  Seriously.  Move.

To be continued, I’m sure…

Education and Unwanted Fat

Just recently I tried to explain school budgets to someone.

“It’s like gaining weight,” I told them. “When you gain it – its all in your ass and your thighs. But when you lose it – its in your face and your boobs”.

“Schools,” I went on “are similar in that when they get money they spend it on an extra administrator or a redundant curriculum. But when they lose the money – they fire teachers”.

Potty Recollection

***I just found this in my drafts folder.  Its hard for me to imagine a time when my chiacchierone-just-turned-three year old didn’t speak***

>Two year old grabs diaper and mutters something that may or may not have an equivalent in English Adult Speak<

Me:  Do you want to sit on the potty?

G4: >runs out of room and into bathroom<  Pah-yee!

Me:  Okay!  Let’s sit on the potty!  Take off your pj’s!

G4: >makes like he’s going to unzip pj’s….gets distracted by bathroom mirror<

Me:  Do you want to sit on the potty?  Let me help you take off your pj’s.

G4: >wiggles away and starts telling me about the bath tub<

Me:  Do you still want to sit on the potty?  You have to let me take off your clothes.

G4:  >throws himself into my lap giggling<

Me:  C’mon George, let’s sit on the potty!

G4:  >with head in lap< “awwwwww”  (the I’m Being Cute sound)

 

 

*sigh*

A Fresh Start (Part I ?)

Today was a really good day. Its a good day to reflect on the past year. A good time to think about whats ahead. A New Year. A fresh start.

For years my Year always began with some drunken version of ‘don’t sweat the small stuff’. On a large scale I’ve always been able to keep things in perspective. On a small scale, my world comes to an end every time my shoe lace breaks. Go figure.

When The Boy was born we didn’t know what the hell we were doing. We had few people to turn to for advice and even fewer to turn to for a bona-fide break. I remember there were plenty of times I wanted to make deals with the gypsies. Yet we marveled at everything he did. I tried my best to enjoy every moment – knowing how fleeting those days were.

Now The Boy is a Raging Toddler and Boy 2 has come into our lives. We still don’t know what the hell we are doing. I notice a marked difference in the way that I interact with The Boy and Boy 2. At 3 ½ months everything Boy 2 (henceforth known as The Baby) does is adorable and brilliant. Everything The Boy does? Loud, offensive, annoying and impossible. Why? Why do I short-change The Boy so easily? Why don’t I enjoy him the way that I enjoy the antics of The Baby? “Because The Baby doesn’t know any better” I might say. But does my toddler know any better? The baby is experimenting, he doesn’t cry to be annoying – he cries to communicate. Why do I forget so easily that my toddler is doing the same? I have patience with the baby that I don’t have with my toddler. One reason, I know, is that I view the toddler’s behavior as deliberate. And bear with me, here – he means to do something naughty – but not with a naughty intent. He might be experimenting or need my guidance or trying to get my attention or truly trying to get my goat. But he’s not being malicious. And that’s what I struggle to keep in mind. My baby is someone to cuddle, enjoy and love. My toddler has been an adversary.

One wish for the New Year – for the Rest of Our Lives: more patience with my children. Enjoying them more. Teaching them every moment and loving them instead of just trying to survive until naptime/bedtime. Its my responsibility to guide them. Its my privilege to love them and adore them. And, it was said to me, if I’m not doing any of those things its not their fault. Its mine.

I’m just getting the hang of it and I realize that as my children grow I will always be “just” getting the hang of it. And I’m okay with that for now.

I have plenty of other stuff I want to work on but I think that’s it for tonight….off to crochet/read a book/vegetate in the 10 minutes before the baby wakes up!

Transitions

It’s Tuesday and my surgery is scheduled for Friday morning. I’m so uncomfortable – sciatica, carpal tunnel, general hip pain, heartburn, frequent trips to the bathroom…but I’m so thrilled that I was able to make it this far. I recognize that I am blessed to even be able to complain. In hindsight – my “suffering” was nothing compared to others. I had to lie in bed and be bored. I was hospitalized and was hungry for a few days. I got little to no sleep for the week plus I was there. I’m not trivializing it. I didn’t forget. But I have perspective. Even so I think if the same thing happened – even with 20/20 hindsight I would still react the same way. It’s hard to be so helpless for so long. And the worry that we experienced was real – if not comparatively trivial to some. But who thinks in those terms when faced with the prospect of an unfavorable outcome? And really, the triviality is a direct product of that 20/20 hindsight- when faced with statistics and percentages that carry a threatening outcome – who cannot at least prepare themselves for the worst? We were worried about our baby and just a teeny tiny bit worried about my life, too.

For a short, VERY SHORT, time afterwards I thought my son would be an only child. That it wouldn’t be safe for us to have any more children and that has given me the empathy to look on to all of my friends who cannot – for one reason or another – have children of their own.

When we *did* decide to try and when we *did* find out that we were expecting Baby Number Two I was certain that we would be traveling a similar road. So certain that I packed bags and wrote lists in case I would have to be whisked away to the hospital again in the wee hours of the night. So certain that it makes these last few days even more (bitter)sweet.

Its for all the above reasons that I embrace sciatica and carpal tunnel and swollen feet. I embrace the waddling and welcome the attention it gets from family members and strangers alike. It means that I am heavy with a healthy, growing child who made it to term. Every night that I go to sleep and toss uncomfortably is another day that my child is given a chance to grow where he needs to and not in some isolette. (The babe that *did* grow in the isolette, by the way, grew in leaps and bounds and is now a 23 month old genius, in my humble O-pinion).

I cannot say that I will miss the hip pain but I will miss the sweet things about pregnancy – some I didn’t get to experience the first time – some I got a small taste of – that will fall away from me and behind before I would like. The baby moving is at the top of the list. Even when it takes my breath away – literally! – when I can watch him move from one side to the other, rolling or turning or doing whatever it is that they do. The hiccups and the tiny little jumps my tummy makes that I can see and feel. Something that I can share with others but also a little secret between me and baby that we can experience at any time.

I’ll miss the attention and the smiles. There’s something about a pregnant lady that makes other people happy – and I’m not too embarrassed to admit that there’s something about being smiled at that makes *me* happy.

Having things lifted for me.

Baby brain.

I’ll miss life with just We Three. Even as I look forward to life with the Four of Us I briefly grieve the life we had – G4 being the center of our attention, only juggling one schedule, proudly learning Everything Baby from him…just as I lamented the end of Me and G3 and as lovely as the transition was.

The shape of my body and the weight that I’ve put on. Yep – believe it or not. It means I’m growing a person and I’m overjoyed to experience it.

Baby brain. (that’s a joke, folks)

My maternity clothes. I didn’t get to wear the few blouses I bought the first time and for a long time they hung on my door as a reminder of what might not be possible. This time I had a small cache of cute little blouses and some jeans that showed off my growing tummy. I’ll miss them. Because of what they symbolize but, also, because I really liked them, too! Oh! And don’t forget my cute maternity bathing suit that I only got to wear one season. So sad!

In a few days we’ll meet Baby Number Two, whose name we’ve pretty much decided on but could still be up for debate. He’ll be closer to 7 pounds (compared to his 3 pound older brother), he’ll come home with us right away (God willing), and perhaps he’ll nurse instead of being bottle fed pumped milk for his first year. We hope he’ll be smart and a good baby (he better be or we won’t love him as much…KIDDING! I KID!) but most of all we want him to be a happy baby/person and we hope just a little of that will come from something we’ve taught to him. We hope that he and G4 learn to grow up together loving each other, playing together and enjoying each other’s company the way siblings should. We look forward to all of these things – but I look behind and nod to all of the things I will miss, because, as I’ve said, I’ll never get these days back.

So what else IS there?

I posted a blurb that I wouldn’t complain about stuff or talk about my son here – my two favorite things to do.  I thought I would keep it to funny stories about the kids I worked with and/or some writing I had done.  Then I had a tedious year at work and am currently not working.  So what’s to write about?

I’m sure I’ll find something but I might have to go back on my word…

Cheaper Than Therapy

1.  I took the 25 things list entirely too seriously.  Consider it therapy.  I apologize to my friends who despise this – I’m weak, I tell you!

2.  When my husband moved in he arrogantly announced he was the Perfect Roommate.  When I bought him a shirt designating him as such he wouldn’t wear it.  Perhaps it was my matching shirt designating me The Perfect Roommate’s Roommate.  At my bachelorette party, a small band of ladies joined me for dinner at an excellent restaurant that treated us *very* well (we knew the manager *wink*) and my best friend bought me a shirt designating me The Perfect Groom’s Bride.  I still wear that shirt even though my husband won’t wear his Perfect Groom shirt.  Ever.  I’m glad she got that for me because I’m not sure I’d have the balls to drink beer from a penis.  Pun intended.

3.  When I married my husband I thought I was marrying a good man.  When I became hospitalized during my pregnancy and he didn’t leave my side – I became sure of it.

4.  I love to cook.  And eat.  Everything.  5 years ago no one would have believed that statement.  Everything I cooked came out funny shaped and weird tasting.  I get a tremendous amount of satisfaction out of trying new things and having them come out well.  I’m working on my reaction when they don’t.

5.  I am hopelessly addicted to handheld video games and rescuing Princess Zelda from whatever silly mess she’s gotten herself into recently.

6.  I ride.  Not much but I ride.  I don’t ride because I met a man who rides.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  I think its equal parts maddening and amusing that most people will ask “what does your husband ride?” first.

7.  I blog.  Not much but I blog.  I’m not even sure what I post could be considered ‘blogging’.

8.  It drives me nuts when people can’t spell.  And what’s with using the wrong spelling for a word?  And what’s with the lack of grammar, lately?  Although I can’t (directly) blame the decline of Western Civilization on this it kinda *does* explain why my first graders say “SURE IT DOES” when I ask them if something sounds right to them.

9.  I feel like I missed out (and still do) on a lot of things by moving away from everyone I know at such a key time in my life (wedding, first house, baby).

10.  Those feelings are replaced by the warm reception I got from the new people I met here.  How quickly they welcomed me and how very much they managed to help me and George out when we were in a pickle.  I hope I’m able to convey how much we appreciate it, still, and I hope I can repay them somehow.

11.  I no longer get along with my mother and sometimes I think the only reason I still endure her company is out of a strange sense of responsibility to my son.  If she keeps calling him a ‘little shit’, though (even joking), I might change my opinion of that.

12.  Even though I know it’s disgusting and I hate the way it makes me feel (and the dying someday part kinda sucks, too) – I enjoyed smoking and miss it terribly.  In fact, I have a lot of shoulda/coulda/wouldas but I don’t have a lot of regrets.  Starting smoking is one of them.

13.  Thanks to my Hospital Vacation and my son’s – I think I now have an obsessive compulsion to use hand cream whenever my hands get wet.  I carry a tiny tin of aquaphor and use it quite often.

14.  I not-so-secretly think my son is a genius and I marvel at women who have children and don’t talk about them incessantly.  I’m not sure if I care to know the secrets to your powers of restraint but I bet my friends and co-workers wish I did!

15.  My favorite TV shows right now are CSI, NipTuck and Life on Mars.  I think two of those are jumping the shark as we speak.  Of course, I know the kinda shows I watch and I know it’s funny that I worry they are tanking…

16.  I LOVE reading.  Love it.  I would love to go on and on about the kind of books I like to read and what I thought of the last one and what books I want to read in the future.  It makes me very sad that I don’t have the time I’d like to read and/or the time or opportunity to discuss them. I won’t join a book club because I don’t tend to read the books that “they” read (unless there’s a book club for zombie novels, Armageddon themed short stories or science fiction) and I fear most of the book and book talk would go over my head anyway.

16 and a half.  I’m thrilled to death that G4 brings me books and chooses to sit still to have them read to him.

17.  I’m very sensitive.  I take things too personally and my feelings get hurt easily.   Of course, I sometimes think that I try too hard to compensate and wind up treating people harshly.  Then I overcompensate again and end up feeling like a doormat…or am I just being sensitive?  You see my dilemma.

18.  I am the person they make commercials for.  They are mini comedy shows – are they not?  And how can I possibly live without that gadget??  Mostly, though, I laugh out loud at them and repeat them to my husband often.  Who can keep a straight face at the talking stain commercial?

19.  I love my son.  And my husband.  And it irritates me when my husband says things like “I’ll deal with the baby so you don’t have to” (Funny I don’t hear it that often).  I want him to understand that my baby is not a chore and that I enjoy spending time with him.  But let’s face it – he’s no Gameboy.

20.  I despise when people don’t bring their shopping carts to the corral.  The few times that I could not help doing it myself I’ve felt incredibly guilty.

21.  My grandmother was my best bud.  I miss her terribly and I wish everyone could have met her.  She died right before I got married.  I’m glad that she met George (and liked him).  I wish she could have met G4.  She would have really gotten a kick out of him.

22.  When I was young I was offered the opportunity to learn the piano.  I passed it up and I’ve been kicking myself ever since.

23.  When I was young my grandmother offered to teach me Polish.  I passed it up and I’ve been kicking myself ever since.  Later, MUCH later, I tried to undo that and would harass my Mee Mom until she upped with a Polish word or phrase.  But it was too late.  Years of disuse and a rotten sense of humor led her to only remember the peculiar phrase.  Now I can proudly demand that someone kiss my ass or announce ‘I farted’ in Polish.  Oddly enough – these get used often in my house.

24.  I often pictured myself as the person that would grow up and old having friends pop in and out…having people over for dinner….getting together with friends and having the kids play together (not the connotation that play dates have – that the children are the only ones getting something out of it!)…and I’m very, very disappointed that my life didn’t work out that way.  I often attribute it to moving but how much of it is antisocial?

25.  I’m thoroughly convinced that clinical depression runs in our family….or maybe I just need to exercise.

Lost in Translation

I have a student that doesn’t speak English.  Not a bit.  Well – thats not true – he speaks more words in the few months he’s been here than some of my first graders that were born here.  But thats really not saying much.  So between his miming and the ten words that I remember from my 5 years of Spanish class (not including the phrases that I can’t repeat in front of him) we make quite a pair.

One day last week he was playing in the (dirty, filthy, disgusting, powdery) sandbox and suddenly he was in front of me hysterical crying.  After a lot of pointing and some snot and some pointing and some incomprehensible Spanish words and some snot I finally called in my translator.  I love her.

A:  He said he got hit by J.

Me:  Well does he think it was an accident or were they fighting?

A: ….

Me:  Ask him he thinks it coulda been an accident.

A:  …I don’t know how to say ‘accident’ in Spanish…

Me: (frustrated)  Mistake!

A: No, that’s English.

*sigh*