Observations from the Cuckoo's Nest

I Am Not A Zen Mama

2011-08-15T10:34:00.001-07:00

In the days/weeks that followed CJ’s doctor recommending us to see an Occupational Therapist for an evaluation the included sensory issues, I began reading everything that I could find on Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD). And one thing that really bothered me was the subject of discipline- how to appropriately discipline a child who may not even be able to help it. I knew he spent the majority of days at the old preschool in time-out. It was their go-to method. They were done and weren’t even willing to put in an effort anymore. I was concerned and not really sure where to go. In the early days, I was particularly sensitive since it didn’t seem to be fair to punish him if he couldn’t help how he was behaving- if there was an underlying neurological cause for his behavior. You certainly can’t punish that out of a child. And so there we were. I’m going to calm, patient and understanding. I’m Zen Mama.

One evening WC was begging me for Taco Bell. Normally, we go through the drive through whenever I pick up his beloved tacos. I don’t want to punish him for his brother, either. So this is the compromise. We take it home since CJ cannot tolerate a restaurant after a day of preschool. After a day at his former preschool, he’d come home like a raw exposed nerve. I’d turn the car radio off and neither I nor WC would speak. He once melted down over a torn piece of paper.

On this particular day, WC was begging to let them eat at the restaurant. CJ was all for it. And he didn’t seem to be on the edge. And I relented. It was early and the restaurant not crowded, it might be okay. Before we’d sat down they’d found individual wrapped peppermints at the condiment station and had taken one. I said they could eat after dinner. Since we had our pick of seats I chose the booth on the end- that way he could sit without risk of anyone sitting behind him. So his fidgeting and constant movement wouldn’t disrupt anyone else. He and WC sat on the same side & he got to sit on the outside- which was both unusual & made me nervous. I sat down with their tacos and things went from annoying to worse. Think spastic cat on stimulants. He was lying down in the seat, I asked him to sit up and eat. The entire meal was spent with me telling him to either, sit up, sit down, turn around, and get back into the seat. If someone barraged me with commentary like that I’d cooperate just to shut them up. He’d “drop” the toy he’d brought in and need to go get it. I took away his toy- he angrily huffed. I threatened to make him sit next to me. His taco sat untouched. I ate it. He discovered it missing and got mad cause I ate it. I gave him another since I’d stocked up. He barely touched it and it ended up in the middle of the floor.

WC sat quietly stuffing his face with tacos and appeared not oblivious to the ruckus right next to him. He finished and opened his peppermint. CJ wanted his too. At that point I gave him the peppermint because I wanted the experience to be over. He put the peppermint in his mouth and three seconds later somehow it too ended up on the floor. I tossed it in the trash & the high speed come apart hit. WC quickly retrieved another peppermint from the condiment station and unwrapped it. Before we got out of the door, I heard the unmistakable sound of hard candy hitting the tile floor. You have got to be kidding me! I finished tossing the trash away and took CJ by the hand to leave. At this point he’s screaming again and WC has discovered no more peppermints in the container. They don’t have any more I tell him. And pull his screaming butt off the floor and out the door. I’ve parked just outside the door and before we get to the car, CJ wiggles free and screams, “But I’m hungry.”

A giant flash of light streaked across my vision. I’m not sure what happened next but, when I come to, I’m screaming at CJ in the middle of the parking lot something about having ample opportunity to eat as much taco as he wanted. He’s covering his ears. And instantly it snaps it back to me the SPD. I’m screaming at my SPD kid. I don’t want to be the screaming mama and I’ve just lost it. And I’m not sure Mother Theresa would have been able to hold it together in the same situation. WC is hiding on the other side of my car because when those words came out of CJ’s mouth, he knew to get the hell out of the way.

So we are back to our original arrangement of picking up food the few times we do eat out. I am not a Zen Mama.

Being Run Over

2011-08-11T10:22:00.000-07:00

There we were having my 4 year olds preschool owner/director telling me that my child was different from every other child in his class. That his social/emotional maturity had actually regressed and the progress that they’d hoped to see hadn’t happened. She told me there was something wrong with him- she just didn’t know what. Yet, she gave me a computer print-out about Oppositional Defiant Disorder. Teacher #2 with whom he’d had the confrontation with, stared at me like I was raising Satan himself whenever I entered the room.

The day it all went down, I wondered if she would be able to get past it. Would she hold it against him? Should I go ahead and move him? But the school itself was supposed to be good. It had a waiting list and everything. Surely, if anyone could work with a special needs child it would be a staff of teachers with masters degrees in early childhood education, right…right?

The previous teacher (who teacher #2 replaced) was wonderful with him. She did tons of 1 on 1 with him and worked with him while teacher #1 ran the group lessons. I assumed he had assimilated and was doing well. After all at home he was singing songs, reading three letter words, adding and subtracting- where in that would I have a clue that anything was so horribly wrong? Then she took the summer off to stay home with her kids. A week and a half after teacher #2 came in is when the incident happened. Then in my meeting with them, I was informed that my child screamed every day- several times a day, refused circle time or to cooperate in general. When I pick him up, I get a slip of paper that tells me the day’s activities and I speak with the teacher- not once had it been written down or told to me that my child screamed every day or that there was anything concerning about him. Why would you not mention that to a parent? One day everything’s fine the next I’m sitting in a chair in the owner’s posh office being run over by a Mac truck.

I’d approached the previous teacher concerning his behavior a couple months after he started at the school. He still threw temper tantrums and I told her that I was concerned because there was a big disparity between his cognitive abilities and his social/emotional abilities. She had explained to me the two parts of development couldn’t develop at the same time. They would eventually even out and she didn’t see any cause for concern.

Four months later and a month and half with teacher #2 and we were cordially invited to find another care facility for him- because he was just “too out of control” and they were “unable to handle a child with his needs and their large class sizes.” This was told to me almost two weeks to the day before his evaluation for SPD- four weeks after our meeting over the incident.

I’m still trying to digest it all. Did they really just get rid of him while they could still classify him as a “behavioral problem” and not a child with special needs?

Come with me on a new journey

2011-08-09T10:42:00.000-07:00

It all started in early June when I’d received a call from CJ’s preschool. There’d been an incident with the new teacher. He’d ripped a necklace off of a child’s neck and then slapped the teacher when she tried to put him in time-out. I was horrified, devastated and just plain didn’t understand. Yes, CJ is challenging, but that didn’t seem right. Of course, I immediately agree to conference with the owner and his two teachers the upcoming Monday.

At home, I gently asked CJ what had gone on that day. I had to prod at him a couple times before he said that he was getting the necklace off a fence for the kid and it broke. Well, CJ’s about as gentle as a bull in a china shop, no surprise there. I asked him again to clarify, off the fence? “Did you take it off the kid’s neck?” He insisted it was on the fence. Then I asked him, “Did you slap the teacher?” “Yes,” he replied. When asked why he said that she wouldn’t put him down. I clarified again that she had picked him up off the ground. They’d told me that she’d bent down to speak to him after he’d run from her when she’d asked him to go to time-out. He said again that she’d picked him up and wouldn’t let him go. When asked why he didn’t go to time-out when told to, he said that he’d just wanted to play. In his mind, he didn’t do a thing wrong and couldn’t figure why he was being punished. It didn’t seem like she’d explained to him the reason.

At the meeting on Monday, I’d asked teacher #1 if she’d witnessed the exchange between CJ & teacher #2. She told me that she’d gone inside before then to either take a child to the restroom or go herself- she couldn’t recall which. And teacher #2 was left on the playground with the class by herself. So I asked teacher #2 if she’d seen CJ ‘rip the necklace from the child’s neck.’ No, she hadn’t but she was quick to clarify that she’d only looked away for one minute and when she looked back CJ was holding the broken necklace and the other child was crying. And she immediately proceeds to tell CJ to go time-out and he ran. So now you have a grown woman chasing a 4 year old around the playground and getting angrier by the second. Why did she chase him? It’s a fenced in playground- where’s he going to go? And when it came out that she’d picked him up, the school’s owner dropped it, quickly.

During our meeting they inform me that my child is “different from anything they’ve ever seen.” They are quick to tell me everything they find wrong with him and then basically ask me to “fix it.” At the time, I thought they were going to be willing to work with me. They put together a list of “concerns” and I faxed that off to his pediatrician for her to review. When I let them know the doctor was referring us to Occupational Therapist to evaluate him for Sensory Processing Disorder, I basically gave them the end date for his enrollment there. I just didn’t know it, yet.

The past few weeks, I’ve mulled over whether or not to chronicle our new journey here on the blog. Do I put this out there? Do I even continue to blog at all? Even the name of my blog has caused me some concern. Does the reference to Cuckoo’s Nest and discussing raising a child with a neurological disorder go together? The name came long before CJ existed. But does it show a lack of empathy? Even do my previous posts where I discuss CJ’s behavior and sometimes with a comical spin- is that cruel in hindsight? I haven’t come up with answers on most of my questions. However, I am not ashamed that my child has Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD). He’s a brilliant child and I want to post the story out there.

Because one thing I found when I started researching SPD is that most people who are directly affected, have no idea what it is. And those who have children or are closely linked to children with any of these types of disorders are extremely supportive. On Twitter, I’ve found a huge network of support. Previously parents facing these types of diagnosis were isolated- your kid didn’t act right and there was very little information out there. This is changing.

This is a new road for us. I’m not sure what it holds but there will be some bumps, potholes and hills, mountains and valleys along the way. I’m going to try to be honest about the experience and every now and then someone might need to remind me to enjoy the scenery.

Cicadas

2011-05-31T10:06:00.000-07:00

Those harmless-but-nasty-looking flying bugs have once again crawled out of the ground and abandoned their shells for flight. It's the 13 year variety, which seems to be the most numerous group. I'd thought we'd be spared from them this year after a small cold snap but never fear- they are out in full decibel swing. They can be so loud in certain places that I can hear them while driving down the interstate, over the car noise and the radio. The sole purpose of these critters seems to be to annoy, scare and amuse people, to mate and become food for birds and other assorted animals. That's it...whatta life.

I arrive at CJ's school one afternoon and they are on the playground. Three of the children are plastered to the teacher because they are scared of the cicadas. She informed me that all the kids are scared of them, except for the son of yours truly and a couple other kids. Big suprise there. I'm not sure CJ understands the concept of fear. But just as she's told me this we see CJ and another boy staring at a cicada stuck to the wall of the school. Both boys slowly inch closer to the bug. They lean in and the other boy sticks out his finger. I couldn't tell if he actually made contact or not but the cicada leaps off the wall towards them. The scream could be heard for miles. Both kids did not stop running or screaming til they hit the fence at the back of the playground. I'm happy the fence was there, CJ might still be running.

Come on mid-June when they will be gone for another 13 years...

New Word

2011-05-26T10:19:00.000-07:00

Oh the joys having your children out in the world. I know you can't shelter them forever. But, can we at least let them be children while they are chronologically children?

WC came home from his after-school karate program with another meaning for the word "nuts." I know, it is far from the worst thing that he could come home saying. And if this is the worst thing out of his mouth then consider myself lucky.
A friend's three year old announced to a room full that you weren't supposed to say 'I'll kill you' or 'holy shit.'

And I guess that at seven, being made aware of the alternate names for his body parts is going to happen. Especially when he is in a group with boys of various ages. But, the problem is that he brings the new word home to his little brother. I can do without a 4 year old referring to his area as "nuts." Because he doesn't get that it isn't referring to the whole private area. I have a fear that I'll go pick him up one day at his private Christian School and be pulled to the side.
"We need to talk. CJ is referring to his privates as 'nuts'"

I'm no stranger to my children humiliating me with their behavior, but I'd like to keep it to a minimum.

The Bull

2011-05-24T10:11:00.000-07:00

My little CJ was born under the Zodiac sign of Taurus. I'm not the sort of person who reads the horoscope. I know that I'm a Sagittarius but I've never thought much of what "sign" the boys are.
As an infant, I nicknamed him (at home) Bulldog- because he was stubborn from the minute the doctor cut him from my womb. He was probably stubborn while gestating too, I just didn't realize it. But, I digress.
A friend recently mentioned to me that his sign is The Bull, which I found cute knowing my own previous little nickname for him that was replaced by "The touchless wonder."
I looked up what qualities someone born under Taurus supposedly has and one stuck out: Stubborn by nature. The Taurus will stand his ground to the bitter end- sometimes irrationally.
Case in point:
On Good Friday, I had to work. Both of the kids were off school and they were headed to my mom's house for the day.
CJ located a pair of blue pants out of the bottom of his drawer and had to wear them. Recently he'd decided that blue is his favorite color. Problem with this was that the pants were a size 2T on a child that fits a 3-4T size. The elastic waist still fit him but length is where the problem came in. He was a boy in blue Capri pants.
Jay looks at him and tells him that he will get him a pair of pants that fit. CJ balks, "I want these." Now the next fifteen minutes went something like:
"What about these?" Jay held up another pair.
"No."
"These?"
"No."
"Look these have Thomas on them." Jay pulling out the big guns of persuasion.
"No."
The wheels on the bus go round and round...

Then WC joins in the unnecessary battle of wills, attempting to get his brother to change his pants. And the more they harp...well, I bet you can guess what CJ's response was. He was wearing the pants. End of story.
Have they ever met this child?

I finally decide to try and end this. I tell both Jay and WC to just leave CJ alone. It doesn't matter what he wears to his grandparents house. Tonight, I will remove the offending garment and will not put it back in his drawer. Just let it alone.

With all kids it's important to pick your battles and especially with a naturally strong willed child, such as CJ.

But WC protests at having to look at CJ wearing such short pants. Unlike fart jokes, CJ pants offend his delicate senses. I asked him if he needed reminding of some of the outfits that he used to wear out to the store when he was 2-3? Once he went to Walmart in a long sleeve striped shirt, plaid shorts and bright red boots. He went off to continue to needle his brother behind my back.

Driving down the interstate, I could still hear WC harping on CJ's pants. And I began to fear that he would in fact succeed in changing his brothers mind. Because I was now without a way to change CJ's pants. This grew into a very large worry. I repeatedly told WC to stop.

We arrived at my moms house and of course, WC is still beating the hell out of that dead horse. I pull him to the side and explain to him the nightmare that would ensue if he now convinced CJ that he needed to change pants. "If he wants them off, you will now have to listen to him scream and cry because he has no other pants."
"He can wear mine," WC replied.
"Think about that for a minute." I tell him and pat him on the head.

I get out quickly. I don't want to be anywhere around if it went bad.

Flying Through the Air With the Greatest of Ease...

2011-05-19T10:01:00.000-07:00

As I child, I briefly had a dream of becoming a trapeze artist. But, I grew older and realized that I probably wasn't going to run away with the circus. And my dream of flipping through the air and being caught by a guy wearing spandex trousers slowly faded away. It was replaced by another equally exciting and slightly less lucrative dream of being a writer and mother.
Little did I know that all these years later, I would be living my circus performer dream, in a way- sans the guy in spandex trousers.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the announcer comes over the loud speaker. Let me direct your attention to bedroom at the end of the hallway. Our fearless mother of two has removed the clean sheets from the linen closet and has entered the room.
The top bunk of the bed has already been stripped of the former sheets and she ascends the ladder.
Ladies and Gentlemen, your total silence is necessary. As she performs this amazing balance act suspended eight and half feet in the air, without a net! One wrong move and it will hurt, folks.
Watch closely as she balances on one side then the other while slipping the bottom corners of the matress into the fitted sheet. Yes, she now has sucessfully has she fitted sheet tucked under the mattress.
Now this is the most difficult part of the stunt. (A hush falls over the crowd). She will turn completely around and bring the fitted sheet up the the head of the bed without putting her weight on the mattress. OUCH- a slight misjudgment of distance and her head hit the textured ceiling. Now that hurts. It's important to keep that head just under the nine foot mark!
Our mother is only briefly affected by the hit and now she's gathered her grip on the fitted sheet and moving towards the head of the bed. She reaches carefully over the left side to tuck it under. What's this? She's pulled her hand back quickly and peering over to investigate something. She reaches back over the side and removes...A squishy glow in the dark eyeball. She tosses the eyeball over the side of the bed and goes back to securing the sheet in place. Now, after she secures the right side of the sheet under the mattress our fearless mom descends the ladder.
And for her encore, she will place the flat sheet on top of the fitted sheet and tuck it under the mattress at the bottom. Now she leaves the sheet folded as she ascends the ladder once again. She's prepared this time, folks, the sheet has been folded so the bottom is easily accessible and tucks that sheet under the mattress quickly. And with effortless grace, she slowly smooths the sheet across while moving back toward the head of the bed. Let' see if she move back onto the ladder and complete the stunt without incident. There she goes- one foot on the ladder...then the other...yes, the sheet is slipped into place. Our fearless mom is now descending the ladder.

I turn around to bow. But no wild applause, no flowers being thrown...just two little boys asking when lunch will be ready.

Fearless

2011-05-17T10:15:00.000-07:00

Fears are educated into us, and can, if we wish, be educated out.

Karl Augustus Menninger

I don't like swimming. There I said it. It's crazy thought for some people. But, I cannot stand the feeling of putting my face into water. I can swim, if I have to, I don't make recreation out of it. And the ocean, it's a fairly foreign thing for me. Until I was an adult I'd only seen the ocean maybe a handful of times. My parents just didn't travel. And when we did go to the ocean, the only thing I ever heard from my mom was, "Don't go out too far- all of a sudden it drops off without warning and you'll be gone" or "You'll get sucked out by the current and drown" or "You'll get stung by a jelly fish." or "attacked by a shark." Come to think of it, I have no earthy idea why we went to ocean- if she really believed these things- what's the point? So, we'd sit and look it and get in up our knees.

When Jay and I decided to do a Caribbean cruise for our tenth wedding anniversary, I decided to do two things I'd never done before. Two things that would push me well out of my comfort zone. Kayaking and snorkeling in the ocean.
The kayaking was billed as a "leisurely" activity. Apparently they forgot to tell that to the buff, twenty year old, Brazillian athlete (with a bod you could bounce quarters off of...I'm sorry what was I saying...oh, yeah) who was the guide- he flew through that water like he was racing for olympic gold. It was hard to concentrate on paddling my ass off and looking at the amazing scenery (no, not him). We had one small shark sighting- well the fin of the shark. We pulled our paddles out of the water and floated for a few minutes and the shark went away. Our guide pulled a couple of live star fish out of the ocean for us to see; one them had been eating. Before we left, they gave us instructions on what to do if you tip over. Let's just say I don't think I'd been able to counterbalance Jay. I'm grateful we didn't tip.
The next day we went on our snorkel adventure. Which was light years beyond my comfort zone. Unlike the Brazilian god...um...I mean guide from the day before the group that took us out looked like a group of convicts or at the least they haven't been caught, yet.
After a bit on engineering in order to make my glasses and snorkel mask work, we were in business. Or they were in business and I was trying not to fall off the back of the boat and put on flippers and not have a heart attack. I'd sent Jay on out and he jumped off the side of the boat. Later, he admitted that he was far more scared than he'd thought he'd be when he hit that water. I see him watching me as I make my way down the ladder into the ocean. I try to put my face down in the water and I get to the point where my mouth goes under and I taste salt and I cannot make myself put my face in. I'm using all my energy not to hyperventilate.
Jay and I make our way to each other and I hold onto him and spit out the air tube. I tell him I'm freaking out. We paddle there for a minute or two while I try to compose myself. He puts his face down and comes up with "Oh my God!"
I'm curious and he tells me that there are fish all under us.
Son of a monkey...I have to do this. I put my face in and holy mother, it's like the Discovery channel under there! But I have to pull my head back up. I can taste water- and I keep hyperventilating. I'm not doing well. But, I put my head back down several more times- trying to move around and take it all in. After a few short times, I know I have to get this. I can't be out here and miss this.
I figure out that I'm programmed to hold my breath while going under water and even with the tube, I can't reconcile inhaling while under water.
So, I began by taking a big breath in and slowly letting it out through the tube while I'm under the water and "coming up" for air. After a while, I'm doing it. I'm finally doing it. I don't want to go back to the boat. It was incredible- the best thing I did while in the Bahamas. I'd do it again, in heartbeat.
Curiousity will conquer fear even more than bravery will

James Stephens

CJ Turns 4

2011-05-16T10:21:00.000-07:00

Four years ago today, my little CJ made his entrance into the world. He surprised us by being three weeks early. We're so on the ball that we didn't even have a baby bed setup yet. I'd went in for my check up that week and the OB felt that my blood pressure was too elevated. It had never been high before. So, she sent me to the labor and delivery floor of the hospital for observation. Now, here's a little tip Docs- if you want a patients blood pressure to go down- sticking them in the hospital, having them poked with needles and confined to a bed for the entire day does not do the trick. It was very stressful and I'm sure contributed to the OB having to order a c-section at 9:30 pm. Little CJ arrived at 10:03 pm. He was ready eat from minute one and it's the last time we've been on the same page. He's unique and determined to do everything his way. He's a remarkably gifted child and I'm blessed to have him.

Happy 4th Birthday to my "baby."

Privacy

2011-05-10T10:00:00.000-07:00

At this point, I'm still giving bathing the boys in the tub at the same time. It's getting near time for WC to start doing this on his own, but he's only interested in playing around- not washing. The other night I'm getting them into the tub and enter the bathroom as WC is using the toilet. "Hey," he says. "Girls aren't supposed to see boys pee."
"True, but I'm your mommy."
"But, I don't get to see your private area," he retorts. "Why do you get to see mine." This coming from the same child who dances bare ass through the house shaking what The Lord gave him without the slightest bit of modesty several times a week or anytime he thinks he can get a laugh.
"Well, when you start to wash and tend to your own hygene then I wont see your private area anymore," I reply.
He contemplates this for a second then asks, "Then do I get to see your private area?"
"No. No one gets to see my private area." I'm going out the door of the bathroom.
"You're not being fair," he complained.
Fair? I'm not interested in fair. I'm interested in quiet and non-frizzy, lustrous hair.

A New Journey

2011-05-09T10:23:00.000-07:00

Since she already spilled the beans- everyone head over to Michele's blog and show some support and prayers for they found out 8 days ago that they'd been chosen to adopt a precious baby boy due at the end of June!

The Gift to Give...

2011-05-05T10:14:00.000-07:00

The best gift to give the kids of your worst enemy is (drum roll, please)...
Colored Bubbles by Crayola.
My mother sent these home in Easter baskets for the kids. I wonder what I could have done to her that was so horrendous to deserve this. She might as well have sent home a jug of paint and roller brush.
When I first saw them in the baskets, I didn't think much of it. Who would? Just bubbles, right? Perhaps you see just a hint of green or blue in the bubble while it's floating in the air. So when they wanted to open them after dinner, I told them to go out on the back deck. I stepped out to help CJ open his and pulled out the wand- it was very thick and dark blue. Before I could react he blew with enough force to take out a candle twenty feet away. What didn't coat my arm, hit WC. The left half of his face looked like he'd been hit with spray of blue paint.
WC, undeterred by the paint explosion, was happily cranking out bubbles of his own. Unfortunately the dye used to color the bubble solution made them too heavy to really float away and they were falling in mass numbers, splattering the wooden deck in green.
I'm still staring in disbelief at my blue arm when Jay steps out onto the deck and flips out at the stuff staining the deck. I snap back to reality and send them into the grass. He hooks up the hose and hands it to me on the deck, mumbles something about going to the store and disappears. Jo Jo the cat high tales it off the deck and over the fence- she isn't taking any chances. After several minutes of constant washing, what was left of the color splats isn't coming off.
I stop to take note of the color carnage in the back yard. CJ has morphed into a smurf and WC may have a bit of the Hulk going on. Their shirts and pants are polk-a-dotted with their respective color of bubbles. They are still wearing their polo shirts from church that morning. Note to self everything must be washed.
CJ smiles at me and teeth, tongue, chin and neck are all blue. Then stretching from his hand to his elbow is simply solid blue color. He can't come in house like this. I devised a plan. I went in and started running a tub of water. And took two towels that were waiting to be washed and placed one on the floor just inside the back door and took the other with me.
The instructions were simple. Put down the bottle of paint (umm, I mean bubbles) and stand at the bottom of the porch steps. From there I hosed them both down, clothes and all. Then I had them strip off the wet clothes and then hosed them again. I told WC to step on the towel inside the door and dry his feet and get to the tub without touching anything.
Knowing that I would never get the same cooperation out of CJ, I used my second towel to wrap him like I was giving a cat medication. Then carried him to the bathroom and unrolled him right into the tub.
Everything else, including my shirt went into the washing machine.
On a positive note- it all came out of the clothes and off the body. The next morning my deck still had color spots but hopefully after several days of rain, it will eventually fade away.
Rarely, will I ever bad mouth a product. I feel that any product can have a few that are off and not inicative of the rest of them. I love Crayola's other products, I'd just purchased the sidewalk chalk. We love the crayons, paints, chalks and color wonder line. I'm generally impressed with the quality of their products.
Sometimes things are messy- I have two boys and I get that. You have to weigh the ratio of fun to clean up and in this case the clean up outweighed the amount of fun (for me).

Incentive

2011-05-03T10:00:00.000-07:00

With CJ turning 4 soon, I decided that it was time for him to start doing a few things on his own. The time between when we get home in the afternoons and bedtime is always crazy. Too much to accomplish in a short amount of time. It would help out if he could/would put on his own pajamas. The other night I decided to see what he could do. He can strip himself naked in three tenths of a second. I told him to show me how big he could be and put on his pj's. His clothes were strewn across the floor before I'd finished the request. A little flesh colored blur took off down the hallway in the direction of the bedroom.
I asked WC to go back and help out. I was informed "I am not a teacher."
Okay, so the kid will teach his brother how to do everything they aren't supposed to but he draws the line at pajamas. I let WC know that I don't expect him to dress CJ just provide a little guidance.
A few minutes later I hear CJ hopping down the hall. He's bouncing down the hall with both legs stuck in the same leg hole of his underwear. About the time he makes it to the couch, he falls to the floor and flops around like a stranded mermaid. "Pull them off and put them back on correctly and go get your pants." He must have done so quickly cause next thing I know he's headed back down the hall. I didn't look up. When CJ had gone Jay said, "I think he had them on backwards."
"Why?"
"He looks like he's wearing a European man- thong."
Probably ten minutes later he returned- pj pants on and shirtless. I checked in the back of his pants and things were on correctly. Apparently Mr. 'I'm not a teacher' did care enough not to let his brother wear a thong.
Once again, I sent him back for his shirt.
I am now in the process of preparing WC's nightly breathing treatment when CJ comes running up the hall as fast as those little legs could go, holding his pj shirt out in front of him. He hands it to me and quickly motions for me to put it on him.
Not 30 seconds later WC comes down the hall holding his plastic, toy bow and an arrow with a suction cup on the end. He notices CJ is fully dressed and nods approval. I give him a questioning look and he explains,
"I told him that he had ten minutes to get dressed or I was gonna shoot him in the privates." Incentive- 7 year old style.
"You cannot shoot people in the privates," I tell him. Let's face it, no matter how good your intentions are, that right there will get you into trouble.
"Okay." He sighed. "What about the butt? Can I shoot him in the butt?"
Ahhh, brotherly love.

New Look

2011-05-03T09:59:00.000-07:00

It was time for a change so I've revamped my blog page here. I hope you like the new look!

A Break

2011-04-19T11:30:00.000-07:00

Hi Readers,
I apologize for my recent absence from posting. Unfortunately I am going to take a break from blogging at the moment. The past few days have been seen an onslaught of terrible news in my family- three family members died, another pet died and a someone diagnosed with stage 4 brain cancer. All in 5 days. It is a lot of emotional information to process. I just don't have it in me to come up with blog postings at this time. I never meant this blog to be a place where all I tell is sad stories and that is all I have.

Please go out in the world and spread love and joy. Be kind to each other. And love your family members today because we are not guaranteed a tomorrow on this earth.

Coming to Terms

2011-04-08T17:05:00.000-07:00

Since my cat died, I've received three sympathy cards- one from the animal hospital, one from the vet and one from my dear friend Michele.
The one from the animal hospital is a stock card with a drawing of a cat on the front that everyone in office signed. I've never met any of them. I wondered they signed the card specifically for me or if they keep a stockpile of signed cards for the situation. It arrived before we'd even returned from vacation.

The one from Michele is the most comforting one. It's sincere and from someone who truly cares.

The one from the vet had a cat and a dog sitting facing a sunset. The inscription was expressing sympathy. It was signed by one person on behalf of the whole office. It had a personal note that read: Our thoughts and prayers are with you in your loss of Rhiannon.
I stood in the kitchen and read the note several times and stopping on the loss of Rhiannon part. The words felt foreign. Loss of...loss...loss. I've lost her...lost Rhiannon. She's gone. After fifteen years this was the strangest feeling. I'm not going to say that it feels like losing a child. It doesn't. It's different. She was still a being that was apart of my everyday life and suddenly she isn't here anymore. There is a void.
When she was first diagnosed with diabetes and the vet only gave her three months left, I spent the weekend crying. And made the decisions that when it was time, I would be with her when she was put down and that she would be cremated. As the three months came and went, I think I developed a sort of amnesia to her prognosis, after all she was still going strong. Her sudden and swift decline brought reality back to her condition. So I realized it was time to let go. It may be that she waited until we were all safely away before she let go her final breathe.
Our first night back home, I had a dream or something. I was in bed asleep and I could feel her weight laying next me as she often did on cold nights. In my dream I pushed against the weight without opening my eyes and said, you're dead, you are not here, repeatedly until I no longer felt the weight.
I still look around the floor for her. I know that will stop one day as I grow used to the house without a four legged family member.
The other morning Jay briefly mistaken a throw pillow on the floor next to the chest of drawers for her. He said he could have sworn he heard a meow. He was about to tell her he'd feed her in a minute when it hit him.

I received a call from the vets office this morning letting me know that Rhiannon was back and ready for pickup. I went numb. I automatically responded that I would pick her up in the morning. I hate the way she put it. Rhiannon is back and ready for pickup. Like she had just been to the groomers or had to stay at the vet for a day and now I could bring her back home now. No, Rhiannon isn't back. She isn't coming back. She wasn't in that blanket wrapped tray at the vets office. Only the shell of what she once was. Right now I'm not positive why I chose to have her cremated. I knew we couldn't bury her in the yard- too rocky. And then the thought of moving away. It just seemed like the most respectful thing to do for a loyal companion. I'm not sure how I'll feel tomorrow when I pick up Rhiannon and hold a small box that is all that is left of her. Because at the moment it seems pointless, since I'm not really bringing her home.

A Lesson in Leaving (temporarily)

2011-04-07T10:32:00.000-07:00

Last year when Jay first brought up going away together for our tenth wedding anniversary this year, I immediately said no. For years now I’ve lived with the motto that if I am not at work, then I should be with them. Going back to work was made tolerable because my mother was my babysitter when they were small infants. Neither went into a daycare setting until they were two.

I miss so much of their everyday being away (with my crew, sometimes that’s not a bad thing) that I am not inclined to leave them without cause. We rarely have date nights, so to go on a trip without them and to put them off on my parents, for enjoyment…didn’t seem right. They are a lot to take. The idea was shelved for a few months.

As they’ve gotten older though, I’m coming to a realization. I’m a person too. Yep, radical concept, right? And even though I am not with them all day long, I am still working. I run from morning until night and sometimes in the middle of the night, if needed too. I begin to see that part of my problem is that I don’t do anything for me, except eat. And I’m not able to give them the best mom possible. I don’t have luxury of quantity so I need to shoot for quality in the time I spend with them.

Part of parenting is letting go. That is the end game of being a parent. You raise them and give them everything and they leave you. You have done your job as a parent if they leave you and start good lives of their own.

Ultimately, I knew that they would love spending time with their grandparents. And my parents would enjoy some of their time. I knew it would be difficult on my mom, so we arranged with my in-laws to take them two days during the day. And that it would be a chance for me to rest. So we made plans to go away during WC’s spring break from school.

CJ, had only recently, spent the night away from home for the first time. He went to my parents along with his brother for an overnight visit in February. Since, he moved to going to preschool full time- he was now eligible for overnight visits.

We explained to the kids in advance that they were having a sleep over at Nana's for an entire week. They loved the idea. The day before we left I was completely convinced that I did not want to do this. But we’d already paid for it and I can’t waste money. So I sucked it up and didn’t say a word.

And for the most part they were fine that week. My mom said Tuesday night, WC had gotten over tired that day and cried that he would never see me and Jay again. She assured him that we would return and he was fine the rest of the week. One night she made the mistake of falling asleep before they went to sleep and she woke up the next morning and they had strung toilet paper all over the house.

The day we returned, they were happy to see us. At the same time they were sad to leave the house that spoiled them rotten. WC has tried several times to tell me of their adventures at Nana’s-things she let them do that I don’t at home and I simply tell him, “What happens at Nana’s, stays at Nana’s.” If I do not know about it then I cannot be mad about it. It doesn’t matter what he does there, the rules at home do not change. When we picked them up they were in the same condition as when we left, that’s all I care about.

Our week away brought about an unforeseen change in CJ, though. On the way home that day he’d fallen asleep in the car and I brought him in and put him on the couch and he slept there for about three hours or so. When he woke up I was in the recliner. He came over and crawled in my lap and hugged and kissed me numerous times. We snuggled there for the longest and he kept telling me that he loved me. We’ve been back a week and half and it still hasn’t changed. Before, he never told me that he loved me unprompted. I’d tell him then he’d respond to me that he loved me too. But now he randomly comes up to me and hugs, kisses and tells me that he loves me. He yells it to me out the car window when he and Jay leave in the mornings and when I put him to bed he yells it to me as I’m closing the door. I’m soaking in all this affection. I hope it lasts for a long time.

While we enjoyed our trip together, we are not looking to go away for an extended time without them again anytime soon. I would love to take another trip with them- part of the fun is watching them have a new experience. But, I'm thinking that it is okay to have a night without them every now and then.

I’m still trying to figure out what the balancing act is going to be. I’m thinking of keeping the Saturday morning yoga class for now and seeing if that is enough of a recharge. I’m not sure if complete balance is possible, but I’d like to get closer than I am now.

Intentions

2011-04-05T11:05:00.000-07:00

Ever had one of those weeks where despite your best thought out intentions that nothing will go right and everyone around you seems hell bent on keeping that way?

Before I left on vacation, I had it all planned out in my head- I’d return well rested, recharged and ready to be super parent. I’d start back up my exercise regimen that had lagged since throwing all my energy into WC and his emotional issues. I’d also start back working on my query letter for my novel and maybe even begin writing my next project. I was going to come back and find the balance in my life that had been lacking. HA…HA…HA…HA. What was I thinking? I didn’t hit the lottery…I still had to come back to my day job.

What I came home to was: a dead cat, one child who refused to do anything, another child who tried to super glue himself to me, emotional breakdowns from both kids over said dead cat, an overdraft notice, a disaster of a house, and a stray cat living in my garage (who WC has since named JoJo). My sister had left a bottle of Cuervo Black in the cabinet and I discovered it was really good with Coke Zero-too good. I’ve since sworn it off.

Spring break ruined WC. We were doing rather nicely before then. Although we had hit a small bump in the karate road right before break- and I thought a break would fix it. HA…HA…HA…HA. Not a chance. When I say he refused to do anything. Only the involuntary bodily functions that go on to sustain life where the only things he did without constant reminders. The worst day by far was Wednesday. When I picked him from karate I discovered that not only did he not do any of his homework during homework time but that he’d taken so long to get dressed that he only made the last 15 min of the 45 minute karate class. Now, why they left a 7 year old unattended in the dressing room for that long without checking on him wasn’t answered. But I do know the normal Sensei was not there and I’m not sure what happened. But things didn’t get any better at home. He asked if he could eat before homework. Which I agreed and he wanted letter spaghetti. Then he proceeded to eat his letter spaghetti- one letter at a time. I wish I were kidding.

The first part of his homework, which was supposed to be completed during homework time at the dojo, was for him to pick out three of his vocab words and write a question using the word- basically come up with three questions. I’ve had him complete this task in 15-20 minutes. I left him at the table to work on it. Every now and then I’d ask him how he was doing. He said fine. About 25 minutes in I asked him how many he had left. He said one. At the 30 minute mark, I went in to check on him and discovered a page full of doodles and no actual work. Not a single letter on that page. Now I’m angry. Its 6:30 and this is just one thing of several other things that have to be completed before he can go to bed. And he needs to be in bed by 8 since we get up so early.

I press ten minutes on the kitchen timer and tell them that he had ten minutes to do it. Whatever isn’t completed by then he’ll just have to tell his teacher that he didn’t do his homework. And, of course, when the timer goes off he has one question left to write.

I tell him to put away his work, his time is up. He begins to sob and Jay comes in and says that he was writing as fast as he could when the timer went off. And he should be able to finish it. I counter with that he’s had forty five minutes (not even mentioned the time at karate he should have done it) to complete it.

Jay insists that he should be allowed to finish his last sentence (totally undermining me). And I tell him that he has to deal with it then and leave the room. He isn’t home during homework time and doesn’t actually understand what I go through trying to get this child through the homework on a daily basis. So Jay doesn’t actually deal with it at all and leaves WC alone and it takes him another twenty to write one last question and leaves me with having to push him through the remainder of the homework before bed.

I don’t understand homework at this age and I don’t see that it does really any good towards learning. With the exception of reading- I’m finding that the more I make WC to sit down with a book and read to me the better he is getting. But afternoons are a time crunch for most families who have parents working outside the home- there isn’t time for resting and spending time together. I hate coming home and feeling like a drill sergeant- to get everything accomplished before they have to be in bed. It’s proven that people in misery don’t learn. If you’re not enjoying something and are not interested and engaged in the activity- it isn’t going to sink in. And that is what most sit down homework is at his grade. I’m not an educator, so I have to believe that they do have reasons and there is a method to the insanity. I hope so; I don’t see it getting better, only worse as he progresses through the levels.

I will now step down off my soapbox regarding the homework issue.

As we’ve gotten further back into our routines, he has gotten better- sort of. He’s such a dawdler, there has to be a way to light a fire under his tush. His regular Sensei returned and he finally dressed out and went to class and guess what? He got that tip he’d been wanting. I did point that out to him when he told me.

Even though, my week didn’t go as planned with my exercising or my writing- I did manage to do one good thing for myself. I took myself to a yoga class Saturday morning. I’d learned about a yoga studio twenty minutes from my house and they had a class at 9 am on Saturday. Throughout March I’d meant to go but with getting ready for the trip, I never managed to make it. So Friday night, I’d told Jay that I was going. It was an hour and half long with a meditation at the beginning and the end. I’d left so relaxed and recharged. Just what I needed to get myself through another week.

Farewell, Old Friend

2011-03-29T10:49:00.000-07:00

It is with a heavy heart that I write this. While my husband and I were away on our trip celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary, our beloved kitty and my companion for the past 15 years passed away.
A year and a half ago she was diagnosed with diabetes and given about three months to live. So, I took her home to spend her last days. The vet had told me that when it was time, I would know. But she continued on living her little pampered kitty existence and I struggled with the vets words. How would I know? She didnt seem any different. My mother rattled on and on in my ear about not letting the boys find that cat dead. I assured my mom that I didnt want that, either.
The Friday before we left (on Sunday) I knew. It was time. She'd quit eating on Wednesday and by Friday she could no longer jump up on our bed. On Saturday she could barely walk across the room and only came out from behind the rocking chair to drink water and pee on the bathroom floor. She looked like hell. My fluffy orange tabby looked like a ragged, half starved stray. The neuropathy the vet spoke of had obviously set in. But I couldn't get her to the vet before we left. If she lasted the week, then I would have to take her when we returned. We were on a cruise ship for a week- so I was without contact. I'd left my sister the vets phone number and directions. I'd contacted the vet to let them know the situation.

When we hit dry land again, I called my mom. When she answered the phone and heard my voice- there was a change in her tone and I knew. But I asked about the boys first and how they were and the week had gone. Finally, I asked the question that I already knew the answer to.

Rhi had passed away on Tuesday. My sister found her in the floor and her boyfriend rushed them to a local pet ER. There wasn't anything that could be done.

She was a good kitty. In fact, maybe too good. Both of boys don't really get that cats aren't all like her. Rhi was a easy going animal. She's moved with me from place to place, saw boyfriends come and go then accepted Jay. People asked me when I was pregnant with WC- you're keeping the cat? As if I'm going to give away a member of my family. Then they would inevitably launch into some story about someone they knew whose cat had pissed all over the house once a baby came home. So we brought WC home and the cat still used the litter box. She always had her own toys, food and a sanctuary to retreat to and be alone if she wanted. Most of the time she stayed right in the room with everyone and watched or slept. Then we brought CJ home and I think she looked at me and her eyes said you just had to bring another one of those home. In the wintertime, she loved to curl up right on the couch with the kids- if only she could keep her heaters still long enough. They loved to rub her fur and she would put up with their roudiness for a while until she'd had enough. She had a full set of claws and never once did she ever scratch them.
There will never be another cat like her. Rhiannon will be missed.

And then the rose colored glasses fell off

2011-03-18T10:19:00.000-07:00

WC is in his second week of a new after school karate program. He's been picked up at school by his new instructor (who also picks up from other local schools) where they go back to the dojo and have homework/snack time and a 45 min karate lesson or conditioning games.
I thought for sure, with his negative attitude and distaste for change, that he'd have a rough adjustment of it for a week or two. The first Monday, I arrived and he was all smiles. He climbed into the car and his mouth ran 50 miles an hour. Every phrase began with, "Guess what?" And, of course, I had to respond with "What" after every single time.
He loved it...every single bit. I breathed a sigh of relief and then wondered how long that would last. I felt guilty for my pessimism. But, I do know this child very, very well.
How long would his love of this new karate class last... Turns out 9 days.
The building was warm last night when I arrived. Since, it was our first day of temps to hit 70 this year, It was clear to me that they discovered their air conditioning didn't work.
WC emerged from the boys changing room with a frown that dragged the floor. "I didn't have a good day," he declared and dropped to the floor to put his shoes on.
"Because it's hot in here," I asked.
"Because I didn't get a tip," he huffed. (A tip is a piece of colored tape placed on their belt. It signifies they've completed a step towards qualifying to test for the next level belt. They are big deals). He received his first two tips within the first week and I think that set an unrealistic expectation in his brain.
"No one gets tips every class," I countered.
"But, I did my best and I earned it. I can't do better," he argued once we reached the car. "This is why I hated karate."
I tried to explain that if continues to go in and do his best that he will earn the next tip. When he complained that others in the class got tips, I tried to counter with how his karate is all about him and not anyone else. He isn't competing against anyone else. I think he may have looked at my like I was crazy, but I was driving the car and couldn't be sure.
Although, by the time his father got home and I told him that WC had a down day his explanation had changed slightly. He told Jay that Sensei had a long, hard day and was frustrated that afternoon! He didn't even mention the disappointment over the tip.
WC told me in the car this morning that he didn't like karate anymore. I just told him that I loved him and to have a good day.

Relieved

2011-03-16T10:21:00.000-07:00

I had a discussion with CJ’s preschool teacher concerning his behavior. He’s been worrying me a bit lately with raging temper tantrums that seem to be getting worse. The other day he received a behavioral write up from another teacher who, when she attempted to place him in time out for repeated name calling, was subjected to his raging fit and he punched her in the legs with his closed fists. And with two months until his fourth birthday- I’m thinking he should have better control over his emotions at this point.

In our conversation I expressed to her, knowing she is degreed in early childhood education and has fifteen years in working with young kids, that he picked up learning things so easily but seemed so far behind in behavior. Then she explained to me that it is very common. That if a child is growing leaps and bounds on the cognitive side that the emotional/social side lags behind in development. It is impossible for them to grow on both sides at the same time. All of the energy is being used for the one thing. And the same thing goes for children who mature in the social/emotional side quickly. She has kids who can sit down, follow directions and respond appropriately to their emotions but are dumber than a nail (her phrase, not mine). She said that the delayed side will catch up. She didn’t give me any time frame- I’m praying it happens significantly sooner than his 20th birthday. She also takes into account that he is youngest child in the class, everyone else is already well past their fourth birthday. It wouldn’t be appropriate to put him in the younger room because he needs the harder curriculum. So she works a lot with him one on one. Have I ever mentioned how ridiculously happy I am that I changed his childcare facility?

Another thing to consider for his behavior is that he is aware of his own physical limitations. His feelings of frustration and anger can stem from that he is aware that he just ‘can’t do’ yet- he is aware it is possible for older and bigger children to do things that he is unable to and his explosions may be about more than just the incident that triggered him. So when I tell him he must use his fork to eat spaghetti and he throws himself into the floor screaming- it’s probably about more than that.

For now, we continue to work with him in identifying his emotions and giving him appropriate ways to express himself. She went on to tell me that she has noticed that if he has a total meltdown early in the morning that he is a perfect child the rest of the day. Once he’s had his explosion, he is great. I’m not sure what to make of that. Maybe I can piss him off when I wake him up so that he melts down early?

But I’m not into starting the day on a negative tone.

The Simplest Thing

2011-03-11T10:22:00.000-08:00

I’ve just finished reading Parent Talk by Chick Moorman. It is where I got the idea to do the positive visualization with WC. Now that I’ve read it cover to cover and digested some of its contents I think that I am ready to post some of my opinions on what I have read and used from the book.

In the simplest view of the book, it gives stock phrases to use in certain situations. In the beginning Mr. Moorman suggests writing some of them down on index cards for reference. I don’t know about anyone else, but it doesn’t seem practical to me that in the moment you have to stop and consult an index card on the right thing to say in the situation. But, after reading through the whole thing and using some of it and letting it sink in- to stop and have to think about something rather than reacting negatively may not be such a bad thing. Some of us get into unhealthy patterns that we learned in childhood from the way parents dealt with us. While philosophically we don’t agree- sometimes the automatic action prevails in spite.

The point of the book is to become conscious of what you say and how you react to and interpret what your children do. Until the positive responses are the automatic ones.

Mr. Moorman makes a point that we should understand normal childhood development and view your child’s behavior in that context. And in doing so, we really do not have to have the patience of a saint to be good parents.

The book begins with the suggestion that we should use the words: decide, pick and choose a lot with our kids. Because it will be language that they will grow to understand that they are responsible for their behavior and likewise the consequences. For example: If you decide to hit your brother then you choose to sit in time out. Or. Your brother needs to study. You can choose to play in here quietly or in your room. Which I have used numerous times. And I usually have to remind him, If you choose to disrupt your brothers homework then you decide to go back to your room. And oddly enough this ends with him cooperating or he’ll decide to go back to his room on his own.

Now the one thing that I had to laugh at is “please make another choice”. You tell the child what the inappropriate behavior they are engaged in and then tell them to “please make another choice.” Because I’m going to be chasing them around the house constantly saying, “Please make another choice.” Then they’ll go climb another wall. I tried this one a couple of times but haven’t worked it in to a regular rotation. I may try it again in the near future.

The simplest thing that he suggested and I couldn’t believe this would work is. Limit use of “No.” Everyone knows that toddlers are experts in this word. Most of them say the word while they doing something they aren’t supposed to. The author made the point that once you respond with No, the other party stops listening and begins to form their rebuttal in their head. For example: “Can we go outside.” Response: “No- not until after the toys are picked up.” The problem is that the kid quit listening after the “No” and never even heard the part about the toys. It couldn’t be that simple- could it? I got the opportunity to try this one on Valentine’s Day. The boys had gotten a heart shaped box of six chocolates. At five thirty they asked if they could eat one. I didn’t want them to until after they’d eaten dinner. So I said, “Yes- after you eat dinner.” You know what happened. They said Okay and put the boxes on the table and ran off to play. If only everything could be that simple.

There is much more to the book and I'll post some more stories of trying these out and the results.

Making P17 Unreachable

2011-03-10T09:53:00.000-08:00

Please pop over to Michele's blog My Life After Loss
If you have ever had to have P17 shots to prevent preterm labor and give your baby a fighting chance then sit up and take notice. If you haven't, then consider yourself lucky and know that someone else you know has. There is probably a child in your life, that you love, who is here with the help of this drug. Now a pharmaceutical company may make this dream out of reach by raising the price per dosage to unattainable price for most people. I would hope that insurance compies will also take issue with this- since more children will be born premature and have to endure longer NICU stays at a greater cost to the insurance company than just a shot. Everyone else will pay a price for K-V Pharmaceuticals to make more money.

A Mending Heart

2011-03-08T10:32:00.000-08:00

I've written before about one of my best friends and her struggles with infertility and heartbreak over the loss of children to miscarriage and premature birth. I've prayed for her and waited. I never had any doubt that something good would come from these struggles. And when she announced that she'd started training to be a doula in February- I knew this decision came from that. And that she will be an amazing doula. Then I found out that not only was she training to be a doula but wanted to work with cases of miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death and it really made sense. She will take her experience and love to be the support for people who are facing what happens to a lot of people but no one talks about.
If you or someone you know is facing (or experienced) miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death and they need support visit Mending Heart Bellies. The link will also now be on my right side bar. Also she is now part of The Amethyst Network- a national organization supporting families through miscarriage.

Why I Need a Padded Room

2011-03-04T10:22:00.000-08:00

I’m going straight to hell. Do not pass go; do not collect $200 straight to hell. Let me tell you why. It’s because my 3 year old is crazy. Now with his change from the daycare to the preschool, I have to take him with us when WC goes to scouts. We meet in a local Baptist church. On normal weekly meetings, we are all divided up by group in the Sunday school classrooms. And CJ fits right in with other boys. He isn’t aware that he is little. Once a month, they have what they call a “pack meeting” it’s where all the boys regardless of their level meet together. We hold these meetings in the sanctuary of the church. There we are in the pews where others come to worship The Lord. Being in the youngest level, our boys sit in the first pew. We’re right there upfront- there’s the stage with preacher’s pulpit right in the middle and choir loft behind him. Off the stage, on the floor in front of the pulpit is the altar where they prepare to serve the Lords Supper (or Communion).

CJ’s there was bouncing around like a cat being electrocuted. Then he began to work his way closer and closer to the stage. I make him return to his seat, only to find him being drawn to the stage again a minute later. Then he’s stomping up and down the stairs….then he’s on the stage. It is time for WC’s group to get on stage and sing a song. I’m now trying to coerce WC to get on the stage & coerce CJ to get off of the stage. Will each of you, please do the freaking thing that you are supposed to do!

CJ stops begins to stomp closer to the end of the stage while I’m still on the first pew motioning for him to come on and pushing WC to get on the stage. I turn my attention to WC for a moment only to look up in time to see CJ had taken off running and leapt off the stage, twisting himself sideways to land- belly flop onto their altar- knocking a cross to the floor while yelling “WHEEEEE!”

There is an explosion of laughter from the pew of boys behind me. And I imagine looks of horrified judgment from the other parents in the room- I didn’t turn around to see. I grab CJ by one arm and leg and pull him from the altar and in one motion sit him sternly back into his seat. He wouldn’t look up at me.

On a positive note- WC did very well in the song. He got up there and faced the audience and made an effort to do the song. I’m proud of him.

The Meeting

2011-02-25T11:11:00.001-08:00

I met with WC’s teacher and school guidance counselor the other day. Let me start off by saying that I think WC has an excellent teacher. I don’t think he could have gotten a better one for his personality. She is truly amazing. The meeting started a little late, when the counselor couldn’t be located. But his teacher said that we’d start without her. She wanted me to start off and explain what my concerns were with him. My list included his sudden “I can’t” attitude; his perfectionist attitude- to the point where he believes he has to do the task perfectly the first time with minimal effort and if he thinks he can’t then he will not even attempt it. And his focus issues. We each shared our experiences in dealing with him and we are both experiencing the same things. She asked me about homework. And honestly, when we suffer through it, he appears to be being physically tortured. I’d rather have brain surgery through my nasal passages without anesthetic than to deal with him and writing sentences.

For his teacher her main concern was his lack of focus. She said that since he is very bright that right now it isn’t interfering with his ability to get good grades. But her concern was that as the material begins to get harder he will not be able to compensate any longer and his grades will suffer. And perhaps that’s why his self esteem is also dipping because he is bright enough to figure this out. His problems aren’t that he can’t do the work. In fact, he can do even better. She doesn’t give him the challenge vocabulary words, not because it’s too hard but because it stresses him out. She said that she gives a pre-test at the beginning of the week and those who get the regular words all correct, get the challenge words. She suspects that he purposely misses two words every week. And I believe her because most of the time when he gets home Monday evening and I go over the words, he already knows them all. So, mama here is going to start sneaking in some of the challenge words on my own. She said that he is very logical and she has to appeal to that sense of logic. Say, he gets to question four and melts down because he instantly doesn’t know the answer. She says to him now if you sit here and don’t move on you will miss the last 10. Now if you skip number 4 and move on to the next questions. You miss one. Would you rather miss 10 or 1? Of course, he picks one and moves on.

The guidance counselor finally makes it into the meeting and we have boiled down our two issues: his lack of focus and self esteem/image/confidence.

His teacher said that he doesn’t have any behavior issues but there is a lot of redirection going on with him with numerous reminders to return his attention to his work. I see that at home too. The guidance counselor puts it out there right away: ADD/ADHD- my feelings on this? His teacher said it was definitely not ADHD…perhaps a touch of ADD, BUT he is a 7 yr old boy. I immediate state that I do not feel that even looking into the idea of medication is remotely appropriate right now. I explain my feelings based on my experience having a sister diagnosed ADHD in 2nd grade and the subsequent guinea pig like adjustments with medication. And to top it all off, I don’t recall that it helped her in school. And to this day, as an adult, she “can’t do because she’s ADHD.” It became a crutch. It turns out we were all on the same page with the idea medication. The counselor wanted to know what after school activities he was involved in. I let them know that in addition to scouts that he will be starting back with Karate in March. They both felt that this was a very good thing.

The counselor explained that traditionally the role of guidance counselor dealt with children who couldn’t. It’s relatively new thing for her- in the past couple of years that she’s seen children with WC’s sort of issues. I would argue that it isn’t a new phenomenon but that people realized earlier that children with developmental delays needed specialized help. And they do. I wouldn’t want to take that away. Now parents of children on the other end of the spectrum are realizing their kids might also benefit from being helped. Just because a kid is on the bright-gifted spectrum, that life isn’t all sunshine and lollipops. He’s bright, he’s sensitive, he’s aware of everything around him and paralyzed by his own need for perfection. Where it comes from and why, I don’t know. I racked my brain for months trying to figure out the ‘where’ and the ‘why’. But ultimately, it doesn’t matter. We just have to figure out what to do now and move forward.

The guidance counselor felt that his teacher and I have done appropriate things. And she wanted to meet with him. She was about to begin meeting with a first grade girl who had very similar issues to WC. She wanted to know if it would be okay with me if they worked together. She wanted to take both of them and run them through some self image and confidence building exercises/games. Of course, she would need to clear it with the other mother first. And if for some reason the children wouldn’t open up with the other in the room/it didn’t work out, etc. she would meet with them individually. Once they were into this, if it came out the issues were deeper than what they deal with in the school she would refer us out.

I left the hour and ten minute meeting feeling very good. I felt hopeful, finally. We have a plan in place. I’m still continuing my reading and researching on self esteem/confidence in kids. And I’m trying out new parenting techniques in ways of dealing with both of them. It isn’t going to get better over night. It isn’t going to be easy and I’m sure to not get it right 100% of the time. But I have plans; steps to take that will take us in the right direction.

Here Goes Nothing

2011-02-22T10:50:00.000-08:00

Panic struck at 4 am on Sunday morning. I woke startled with one thought- Oh God, what have I done?

You see back during the summer before WC entered kindergarten, I’d enrolled him in karate. I was worried, with his personality that he would be picked on. So he spent a year going to class. It was trying, initially- he cried every class for the first 6 weeks. Eventually he seemed to come into his own and become comfortable with it. He excelled quickly and learned easily. Of course, he had his meltdowns when he didn’t catch on quickly as he thought he should. Unfortunately, he graduated to a belt that no longer met at the time I could take him. The next class level up was an hour earlier- virtually impossible for my schedule to accommodate. Sadly, I turned in notice. And put him scouts for an activity. He stopped karate practice at the end of July. After his seventh birthday in October, is when I began to notice that he was beginning to go downhill- as far as focus, concentration, and self image. I’m not sure if it really has anything to do with it- but it got me to thinking recently. I really wanted to put him back into karate. I began to search out dojo’s closer to our home than our previous facility. The ones that would work on the time wouldn’t work as far as nights. Thursday night is open library at school where we read and he takes his tests. It’s the only time he gets to do this required activity. And he wants to finish scouts, which is Tuesdays. Initially, I was looking for class for both WC & CJ-But decided to put that away.

Then someone I work with told me about the after-school program her daughter attends that picks her up from the school- takes her to the karate studio where they have homework & snack and then a karate class for 45 minutes three days a week. And conditioning skills class the other two. And to top it off this only cost two dollars more a week than what I pay now. When I asked her who it was, I was floored to discover it was already one of the people I’d spoken with when I was looking for class for both kids. I’d really liked him. She had nothing but positive things to say about him & the program.

All four of us went in to meet him on Saturday. WC walks in and starts to say, “I don’t know about… Are those swords on the wall? Cool! And (sparring) gear!” He was off to stare at the swords hanging on the wall. He went over the program and he only has ten other kids in his afterschool program. It’s just him and one other woman (who we also met) and he has no desire to grow beyond 15 kids. So we signed him up. He’ll start March 7th. I think the small size will benefit WC- who doesn’t like large crowds and is easily overwhelmed. WC’s main concern seems to be not knowing where to go at school once he begins to be picked up by the karate instructor. I explained to him that once I let his teacher know about the change that she would make sure that he knew what to do.

This leads me back to my 4am panic attack- I’ve never had anyone else pick him up from school and transport him elsewhere. He’s going to be scared. What if something happens? What if someone hurts him, teases him, or (God forbid) abuses him? Am I really doing the right thing? Will this really help?

I’m still not sure. The only thing I can do is pray about it.

Tomorrow morning is my conference with his teacher and school guidance counselor.

Picture It

2011-02-17T10:19:00.000-08:00

One of the first tools that I used from the parenting book on reading is called positive picturing or mental rehearsal. Basically it’s where you use your imagination to picture a positive process and outcome of an upcoming activity. The author says to tell your child, “Make a picture in your mind…” And then run the child through a guided visualization of the activity where the results are what they want. I’ve never done this, but this author assures me that this will influence how the child sees himself and how he will perform. Use of this tool fell into my lap the other night at bedtime. WC started in on how he can never get his work done on time. He is always the last person in class to finish and he feels like a baby because younger kids help him. So I asked him to close his eyes and make a picture in his mind. It took a while just to get him to understand what I was asking him to do. I started when he gets out of bed and ran him all the way through getting to class and told him that he was listening to every word the teacher said and he understood her directions. He had his paper in front of him and he worked his way through it without any trouble. There were lots of interruptions from him during this. And I was patient and calm the entire time. He asked what if he kept thinking about other things. I told him to say to himself that he was thinking about something else then place it out of his mind and return to his work. I kissed him goodnight and left the room.

It was fifteen to twenty minutes later, I’m in the living room when WC emerges, upset. “Mommy, I keep thinking about other things and I haven’t even gotten out of the car yet!”

It was all I could do not to laugh. Jay, who wasn’t aware of what had transpired at bedtime, was confused.

Dear All Knowing Child Psychologist- What now?

I take WC back to bed. He asks if he can skip getting ready in the morning. And I agree that we don’t have issues with getting out of the house in the morning. Since, we have that down pat, I tell him he can move to class. But, I also say that I think it’s okay if he just gives his brain a rest and go on to sleep. On the positive side, he was attempting to do the exercise on his own. I was afraid he’d balk at it. On the downside, at the moment, he can’t even visualize himself finishing his class work.

Note to self: start smaller next time.

In a move that I should have done months ago, I emailed his teacher. I explained to her what he’d been saying to me. I wanted to find out how accurate his perception of the situation was. She didn’t send home unfinished class work, so is he really lagging behind in it. And, in her reply he does have focus issues. It hadn’t affected his grades but she worried that as things get harder that will change. And she doesn’t send his work home because she doesn’t want to stress him out anymore. She would prefer that we just do his regular homework. So as of now, I have a meeting with her and the school guidance counselor next Wednesday to discuss his issues and what we can do to help.

I’m not abandoning the visualization technique. I’d like to try it again with him soon. And just limit what I ask him to think about.

After the Storm

2011-02-15T11:06:00.000-08:00

The other day, I had an explosion. Shortly after this explosion, I had an epiphany. Of all things it began while WC filled out his valentine cards for his class party. There are 18 kids and we had 16 valentines. So I asked him, “We have 16 valentines and there are 18 in your class. How many more valentines do we need?” It isn’t question that is beyond his capabilities. I genuinely expected an answer back rather quickly. And was floored when he began to stutter and grow frustrated with me. His immediate reaction was that he didn’t know and there’s no way he could possibly figure out such a complicated question.

I attempted to clarify the question. No go. I asked him to count from 16 to 18. He started at one. I tried to correct him to start with 16. Next thing I know we are in a shouting match and I pop him in the mouth with an open hand for screaming at me. This silences him, of course. And in anger, I unload on him just how frustrated I am with his issues. How I don’t understand that he can’t see how smart and wonderful he is. I will not narrate my entire rant. It was not my finest moment in life. But, when I was done, I knew that I was in the wrong. What I had done would not help his self esteem issues. Even though I can’t figure out where they initially came from- it doesn’t matter. It was my frustration in my inability to help him. It was my frustration at how much of my own childhood lack of self esteem that I see in this child.

I am his mother; it is my job to bring him up with a healthy sense of self worth. And I’m failing miserably with him. It has to change. I have to change, as a parent, as person. I had put to rest all my childhood issues during my 20’s. I don’t want him to wait that long. I’d recently received his mid-year benchmark test results. The benchmark test is where they give the exact same test at the beginning of school year, midyear and year end to gauge their progress. Well, on his was a note from his teacher that he didn’t even try. From the test score, I’m betting he only got his name correct. If you didn’t know this child and judged on the score alone, not only did he not learn anything new, he’d forgotten everything before that. When, I asked him about it, his response was, “Well, she said if we didn’t know it to just guess.” Of course, since this child operates under the assumption that he doesn’t know anything, in his mind she just gave him permission to guess every answer. This is also weighing heavily on me as he clams up and refuses to even attempt to answer my valentine question.

In the aftermath of my explosion of frustration, we spent some time on opposite ends of the house. CJ, who witnessed the whole thing, tells me that he is angry with me and retreats back to his room with his brother. I agree with him. Then I go back, to apologize and tell him that I was the one in the wrong. At the door, I hear him talking to CJ. He states that no one likes him. CJ immediately replies, “I like you.” WC then points out that CJ said he didn’t like him when he broke his balloon. CJ then says it was okay. WC tells him that he still upset about his best friend moving away (right before Christmas). Okay, I’m feeling lower than shit right then. I go in to face them.

That afternoon, I began to search for books that could possible help. I needed to learn new ways of dealing with them. That day’s events led to think about what all had been going on. The more they “misbehave” the more of tyrannical dictator I was becoming. I’m spending what precious little time we have together on weekdays, barking orders at them. The more I bark the worse they become. This is not the life I wanted. I’m not being the mother that I wanted to be. I settled on a book after reading excerpts and reader reviews of numerous items. In this entry, I am not going to post the name of the book just yet. I have not gotten all the way through it or tried out enough of the suggestions- yet. I’m going to do everything that I possibly can to change the way that I mother my kids- Even if I have to put aside my own personal pursuit of becoming a published novelist for a little while. Even if my blogging schedule is delayed between posts. I’ve spent my lunch break researching websites on kids self esteem and raising happy kids instead of how to write query letters. Right now I have to put WC on the front burner of my life and make sure that he is getting what he needs most.

This post is running long, for me. I do have a story about using a method from the book I’m reading. I will save it for next post.

Okay, I was wrong

2011-01-26T08:50:00.000-08:00

It snowed, again. I am without a doubt, sick of it. I'm stuck inside again with the kids. On the upside, I had time to revise my query letter and post it for critique again this morning. On the downside, WC has strep throat. So, lets amend that to say I am stuck inside with a child with a very contagious illness. And waiting for his shadow (or Thing 2) to come down with it. It started Monday morning when he woke up and said he wasn't feeling well. I chalked it up to them being out so much recently that he didn't want to go back. I took his temp and it was normal & I sent him to school. The last thing I said to him when I dropped him off was something about him feeling better once he got back into the swing of things.
At 12:45 I received a call from the school nurse- he had 102 temp. Okay, I was wrong.
He was asleep in the nurses office when I arrived. They bring him out and he's quiet while I sign him out, present my ID and the nurse takes his temp again while I am there. I'm not sure why she took it again in front of me- I believed her. It registered 102.4. As soon as the doors to the school closed behind us, he spoke for the first time since I arrived. "I told you I didn't feel well this morning."
I had to laugh. "Yes, but without a fever, I didn't have any reason to keep you home," I explained. Also, I really thought he'd get better.
At home he slept for three hours and still had a 102 when he woke up. I gave him some Ibuprofen at that point and an hour later it was normal. He had chicken noodle soup and asked for a hamburger. I told him no.
At three in the morning he was in my room, freaking out that he'd swallowed a tooth. He didn't have any loose teeth when he went to bed. Which is what I told him. But, he was convinced. I have to get up and go into the bathroom to inspect his teeth. After my eyes adjust and I verify that all teeth are present and accounted for, I send him back to bed. It must have been a dream.
He spent yesterday with my mom. She called me at 8:45 and said his temp had already hit 100. I decided that I needed to take him to the clinic after work and get an NP to check him over- just in case he had something that needed antibiotics to get over. His fever again responded to medicine but as the day went on and it wore off it returned. By the time we saw the NP at 6, it was 103.
She wanted to give him a strep test. He started to get upset. I told him to just relax and open his mouth as wide as he could and it would be over soon. No big deal. She swabbed and he immediately vomited all over floor & it kept coming. He'd had soft tacos for lunch. Okay, I was wrong.
The only good thing I can see from this latest bout of snow is that the school is closed, so WC will only miss one day of class. He is cleared to return to school tomorrow.

A Change

2011-01-21T09:03:00.000-08:00

Whenever you decide to make a change for your child, it can be scary. Am I doing the right thing? We all get set in the routine- the familiar and comfortable. But, what if what’s comfortable isn’t what’s best? We faced these things this past fall when I began to wonder if the daycare facility where CJ spent three days a week was really the best place he could be. Aside from me being at home with him, of course- that isn’t an option right now. So, if he has to spend his days in a care facility- is he in the best one. In October I came to a resounding conclusion. No. And for several reasons:

1. While only being there three days a week, he would come home several times a month with bite marks that were bruised. He was also cited on numerous occasions for biting as well. Although he never bit in any other social situation with children. I began to wonder if they just left them in a room to gnaw on each other. They sure as heck weren’t educating them. Which leads me to:

2. He was out of control- behaviorally. I know that I am the parent and it is my job to parent my child. At the same time when the child is in the care of someone else for 8-9 hours a day- it is imperative that this other caregiver(s) be in cooperation with the parent(s) on how to raise the child. And in my opinion that includes teaching the child how to act. To do otherwise, makes it harder on everyone.

3. They had no educational curriculum or structure. CJ is nearing four. He is smart. They were not sending him up to the next room and wouldn’t tell me why. Now this facility is where WC went and at the time I received assessments twice a year where they tested him on age appropriate skills- letters, number, colors, shapes, etc. I had clear knowledge of his educational progression towards kindergarten. After a year and half, CJ had nothing. It seems they completely quit attempting to provide them with an education or instructions on how to be a decent person.

So, I made the decision to look into other options. WC had started going full time daycare at three and a half and it was getting to the benchmark for CJ as well. He still stayed with my mom for two days of the week. And she also lacked discipline and structure-but she’s the grandparent, so I give her more lenience in that area. But, I knew I didn’t want him going to the current place full time. The first of November I put him on the waiting list of a good Christian school in our area. I’d know a bunch of people to defect from the old daycare when they first opened when WC was there. I prayed, I read, I though, I asked around. I wasn’t sure how long it would take or if we should put him there. So, I prayed some more. Early in December my cell phone rang. It was the Christian school telling me that they had an opening in the 3 room. Would I like to come in for a tour?

That afternoon the boys and I toured the “new school” as it was being called by my boys. I liked what I saw and what I heard. CJ went right in and started playing with the toys. The teacher for his class was out on maternity leave and wouldn’t be back til the end of December and I was welcome to come back then and meet her. I took the enrollment packet home. CJ left calling the place “his new school.”

I filled out and returned the paperwork with a little hesitance. I spoke with the owner and we decided to set his start date for the first of January- that way he could finish the year at old daycare and I could have time to provide notice. I wrote my notice that I was withdrawing his enrollment at the end of the year and turned it in. Then the daycare director expressed what I can only describe as relief. She said she was worried about having to move him to the next room because a child that he didn't get along with was in there. So, they were holding my child back in a lower level room simply because he and another child didn't get along? That didn't seem fair for his development.
At the end of December we were able to visit the new school again and meet his teacher. CJ skips down the hall to the new classroom and happily begins to play with the toys in the new room. I spent about a half an hour speaking with the new teacher and sort of explaining where we were coming from and the challenges that we've faced and his old care wasn't structured. And what I wanted for CJ. When we left, I was completely convinced that this was the right move. She completely understood and explained to me her philosophy and that she has three children of her own. She believed that it is her job to help the parent raise the child.
He started his new school at the first of January. The facility has a webcam that I can access from my computer at work. The first time I pulled it up- I found him sitting in a chair having a time out. Yep, that looks about right. The next time I checked in, they were having circle time. I looked and looked but couldn't see him in the circle. Then from across the room, a head popped up from behind a low bookcase. I just shook my head. Every child was in the circle-but mine.
I spoke with his teacher when I picked him up. Obviously, she could tell that he came from a facility without structure but she assured me that he would get used to it.
And so far he is adjusting well. He's playing well with the other children- no issues with biting. He's happy there. When I pick him up, he isn't in any hurry to leave. I haven't had any problems with him not wanting to go in the morning. He goes around the house singing little songs he's learned there. So far this is turning out to be a really good decision. I'm hoping that in this new environment his learning will really blossom like it was before.

He's A Mans Now

2011-01-13T08:22:00.000-08:00

The other day CJ was playing around behind the couch. He'd stripped off his pajama's and was nude. Not that it is a shocking revelation and anyone who has read a few of my posts. I retrieve some clothes from his room and ask him to come to me to be dressed. He skips over and I notice something on his chest. It's fuzzy. He's gotten into something sticky. And in the dead center of his chest is a perfect circle of dark fuzz. WC takes notice when I say that I will wash CJ off. He exclaims that CJ now has chest hair.
CJ looks down and breaks into a wide smile. He puffed his chest out. "I'm a mans now!"
Of course, I can't keep from laughing. "You're a man now?"
He smiles sheepishly. "No, I not a mans now."

When Your Father Has a Concussion, It's Time To Go Inside...

2011-01-11T08:14:00.000-08:00

When we brought snow boots home from Pennsylvania last year, I thought that we wouldn't need them again before they outgrew them. But, yesterday morning we woke up to 4 inches of snow on the ground- and it was still snowing. I've never known Jay not to go to work due to weather. He always goes. He stayed home. About midday they all head out into the cold. There's snowball making and rolling around the snow. Why do children feel the need to throw themselves down and roll around in snow?
Then Jay brought out our homemade sled and pulled the boys up and down the street. I used the opportunity to try out my new camera in the snow. I'm watching Jay run backwards pulling the sled when he slips and falls flat on his back- the back of his head hitting the sidewalk.
Six years ago a work colleague of mine died after falling backwards over a concrete parking divider and striking his head. I will not allow my children to ride hanging onto the front of a shopping cart because if they fall there isn't anyway for them to catch themselves. He was a young man and it still haunts me- one minute he's waiving goodbye to friends he'd just eaten dinner with and then he's gone. It's the only thing that flashes in my mind when I see back of Jay's head bounce off the sidewalk. My mind then switches gears and goes to assessing the situation so I can figure out what needs to be done. Jay is getting to his feet by the time I get there. He says he's okay but I'm not convinced. He insists that he just needs a minute. I almost off to pull the boys on the sled so the fun can continue. Almost. The boys cheeks are very red and chapped and Jay is still dazed. So I call an end to snow fun and tell them it's time to go inside. Of course, they protest. Why? Why? Why?
Because, when your father has a concussion, It's time to go inside. That's why.
He still isn't feeling well and I want him to go to the doctor. But he went back to work today, instead.

Larry

2011-01-04T10:32:00.000-08:00

For the past couple of weeks WC has declared that he is ‘Larry’ and that he ‘likes to kiss boys named CJ.’ WC will make his announcement then chase a giggling, screaming CJ through the house, catch him then wrestle him to the ground in an attempt to kiss his cheek. Larry gets his wish, most of the time. Occasionally, CJ foils his plans and prevents him from kissing him until they both tire of the game.

So far the only point I see in the game is that it takes advantage of blending their favorite activities: running & wrestling each other. WC merely mentions the name Larry and CJ squeals in spastic delight and off they go. The other night as I was drying them off from bath time, WC said “I’m Larry.” And off went two naked, screaming boys through the house. It looked like a scene from Greco Roman wrestling in the living room.

Saturday night we put the boys to bed, and then Jay and I watched some television before retiring. We’d heard the boys bumbling around in their room and Jay had gone back to put them back to bed. Their bedroom door open and shut after that, but we didn’t hear anything so we assumed that the perpetrator had returned to bed on his own accord. Jay and I go into our room to get ready for bed and we just entered when we hear the long exhale of a sleeping child. I look at the bed-empty. We stare at each other a second and creep around to the other side of the bed. And there in the floor is CJ, sound asleep. He’s on his stomach and wedged between the bed frame and the night table. There’s no way to lift him straight up off the floor- he’d hit the bed frame and night table. We were going to have to slide him out then lift him. I go to open their bedroom door and WC sits right up. We asked if he knew his brother was in our room, he shook his head no. But, we knew he wouldn’t be awake unless he knew that his brother wasn’t in the bed below. In CJ’s bed, a giant stuffed dog was placed under the covers, as if were being made to look like CJ sleeping in his bed. We placed a sleeping CJ back into his bed.

The next morning we asked if CJ remembered going into our room and falling asleep in the floor. He did; he said that Larry was after him. Then we were able to get the story out of WC. WC said that he was Larry and CJ jumped out of bed and ran out of the room. WC fearing that he would be in trouble placed the stuffed dog into CJ’s bed hoping we wouldn’t notice the difference. That’s a 7 year old for you- hoping we wouldn’t notice the difference between a stuffed dog and our 3 year old. Then WC laid in bed worrying about where CJ went off to. And CJ had sought refuge from Larry by hiding behind our bed and fell asleep.

A Look Back III

2010-12-31T10:34:00.000-08:00

I'm spending the last week of 2010 reminiscing all the crazy things that happened with my bunch from the nest. One common theme that I've had this year is the inability to keep my kids in clothes. So I'll close the year out with one about my little nudist from June:

6 Words

"I need to speak with you." Is a statement that when uttered by your child's care provider upon you're arrival in the evening makes even the most seasoned parent shudder. No matter your mood prior to that statement- you exhale loudly, shoulders slump and ask, 'What did he do know?'

The subject of that statement in this instance was WC. Now, he's a pretty good kid and rarely ever gets into trouble. But when the boy does something, he doesn't half-ass it. He goes after being in trouble with the same intensity as being well behaved. It's all or nothing...no middle ground. And his trouble is never fighting or anything malicious. It stems more from the fact he's a free-spirit...I guess that's the way to describe it. CJ's troubles always stem from him believing the world should revolve around him and to hell with anyone who doesn't agree- but then he is three & we're working on it.

So, on this day I arrive to the 6 words spoken by the head camp counsellor and she pulls me off to the side.

My son and some other boys- all 6 yrs old went to the bathroom connected to the gymnasium and as with any gym bathroom there's a shower room. They decided it would be fun to take a shower. So they all strip naked and are running around in the open shower room. I'm unsuccessfully trying not to laugh as she describes discovering a shower room full of wet naked little boys. So they all had to have a talk about private parts and not romping around with the parts God gave you flapping in the breeze.

Both of the boys run around naked all the time at home- after a bath & before pj's they run streaking through the house, squealing with laughter. Nudity isn't anything that I've raised them to be ashamed of. But it never occurred to me that he would do this with total strangers. It was all innocent. I've had multiple discussions with him about his private parts and not allowing anyone to touch them. And he's not to touch anyone else and if someone asks him to then he needs to say no and go tell an adult. I keep that a running discussion that I bring up periodically- usually during the bath time. But now I've also had to tell him that he can't get naked at day camp.

My Dad laughed hysterically when I told my parents what their grandson had done. And his comment was about how smart the boy is. Smart? Smart?

I don't get how organizing the first grade nudist colony can be considered smart?

****
Wishing everyone out there a very safe and happy New Year.

A Look Back II

2010-12-30T10:25:00.000-08:00

Today I am posting what I still think is the most frightening thing to happen in 2010
Originally posted in February from our trip to Pennsylvania:

If Your Brother Thinks it's a Good Idea...

There we were, sitting around my friends living room. The Mallomar incident (see below) had come and gone. We sat there talking and laughing; the children were quietly playing upstairs. It was too quiet...for too long. As a seasoned mom, this should have tipped me off. But really, they had their back pack from home filled with games and an entire chest of toys, crayons, markers, etc. up in our room. Why would they possibly need any other form of entertainment? Why would they go roaming around in some one else's bedroom...let alone her husbands closet? What would be so interesting about a man's wardrobe?

I've been a mom for six years; oh how I should have known better than this...

Back downstairs Jay, Michele, her infant twins and myself sat blissfully unaware that, the tweedle brothers had located an old wooden rocking horse that Michele had carefully hidden away in the back of Peter's closet. They ever so stealthily removed the horse from it's hiding location and silently slid it across the wooden floor over our heads. WC had formulated a plan for this horse. I've often said that if he jumped off a cliff that CJ would follow...not only is that literally true but CJ will also allow WC to send him off that cliff first.

Perched at the top of the stairs, WC put CJ on that horse.

The worst crashing noise I've ever heard in my life came bounding down those stairs. From my vantage point all I could see was wood and feet. Initially I didn't know which child had come down. Jay, who was sitting in direct view of the bottom of the stairs saw it, in slow motion. He was to the crash scene first and pulled CJ up and immediately handed him to me.

CJ was in hysterics. I sat down with him and began to inspect him for damage- there just had to be something broken. In those rare moments of real danger I've noticed that I manage to sort of automatically stuff any emotion relating to 'my baby is hurt' sort of thing. I don't genuinely become scared until after the fact; then the Oh My God sets in. I felt around his head, I moved his limbs, poked & prodded his body listening for him to cry in pain instead of the scared wail. I couldn't find any obvious damage- how could that be?

While I examined CJ, Jay went to find the obviously missing piece of the puzzle- WC.

We turned Sesame Street on tv to see if that would help draw his attention away from what happened and help calm him. It worked. But it didn't help make sure he didn't have a concussion because a two year old watching Elmo isn't exactly the most responsive thing in the world. While he watched, I continued my examination and feeling for lumps and looking for bruises. I began to ask him questions about what was happening in the show and he could tell me. Sometimes it would take a minute to respond but he could tell me. It appeared that he had some redness around his left eye- we figured it would be black the next day.

How did he go down those stairs on a rocking horse and not end up with something broken?

If I had fallen down those stairs, I'd have ended up in a full body cast.

After a while, he climbed out of my lap and began playing again. That night when we went to bed, I poked him to make sure he would stir. Something I learned the last time I had to watch him for signs of concussion.

The next morning, he had a spot near his left eye but no bruising. How?

Then, the thoughts about how it could have turned out scared the hell out of me.

A Look Back

2010-12-28T10:21:00.000-08:00

Today, I am reposting one of my favorite memories blogged in 2010:
First posted in February from our trip to Pennsylvania.

The Mallomar Incident

My children. I love them, but they test me. They test my skills, my nerves, my patience, the limits of my insurance. It's like their hobby...if you will. And taking them to another state didn't prove to damper their experimental tendencies. It may have amplified it.

Our first evening settling into the home of our gracious hosts turned out to be a bit more exciting than any of us could have ever predicted.

She offered snacks and of course Jay and the boys don't turn down food. I was happily hugging babies so I stayed in the living area while the others disappeared into the kitchen. Jay and Michele return to the room leaving the boys at the table with their snack- a chocolate marshmallow cookie for each of them.

There we are conversing like old friends do when you haven't seen each other in a long time. And we proceed to talk for a while not even noticing the older children are still in the kitchen. We're holding babies and having a lovely chat when in toddles CJ...

He looks like a gluttonous squirrel with lock jaw. There had to be at least two whole Mallomars shoved in there. Unlike the squirrels take, chocolate on the other hand...melts.

There's a slobber and chocolate goo oozing down his chin. He seems okay with this.

Immediately the thought hits my brain & I look at Jay, "Did you leave the box of cookies on the table?

He responds with that dear in the headlight look and took off into the kitchen.

It would seem that he did. He handed each of them one cookie and left the room leaving two children unsupervised with an entire box of cookies.

Between the two of them, they split eleven Mallomars.

Probably with WC doing the handing out. One for you...one for me. Mom will be so happy that we are sharing.

All I could do was shake my head and laugh while Jay cleaned up CJ.

Now I'm not saying that mom's are perfect, cause we definitely are not. However, I do not know of a mom who would have left those cookies on the table...that's all I'm going to say.

Luckily, they did not get upset tummies from this but the surge of sugar through their systems may have had a little something to do with their shenanigans a little later that afternoon...

To Be Continued...

Merry Christmas

2010-12-25T00:44:00.000-08:00

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over
their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and glory of the
Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do
not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people.
Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the
Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find the baby wrapped in cloths and
lying in a manger."
Suddenly a great company of heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising
God and saying,
"Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests." Luke 2: 8-14 NIV

My Kids + A Christmas Party

2010-12-23T16:00:00.000-08:00

Tis the season for the thing I dread- the holiday party. This is the fun, festive time where we dress up our boys and try to pass them off as normal human beings. At ages 3 and 7, these creatures cannot, yet, be described as “civilized,” try as I might. The phone call came in and she invited us and yes, you can bring the children. They have girls. They do not understand what they are doing.

After a thirty minute drive in which I threaten them for the duration of, we arrive. Our hosts Christmas tree displayed proudly in the front window of the formal living room. The rest of room and house decorated to the hilt in garland, bows, lights and all sorts of shiny trinkets. A bead of sweat runs down my back. The boys are gone. They are off to explore their new winter wonderland. I should have stayed with them.

In the kitchen I helped our host put together some platters for the buffet. I was putting the finishing touches on a platter when the unmistakable sound of glass shattering came from the living room. I knew. Before I even moved, I knew. Like when the phone rings and you know it's bad news. I didn’t have to see CJ standing there in the middle of shattered glass to know he was the culprit. Six kids in the house and I knew. When we walked into the living room there were only two kids in there. CJ standing stone still with water and glitter everywhere- he was in complete shock. And WC across the other side of the room repeating “CJ did it” until I told him stop. He wasn’t about to get blamed for this. But unlike the rest of the kids, he didn’t abandon his brother completely by fleeing the scene.

Then I realized the object had been a snow globe. My best guess is that he picked up the snow globe and went to shake it but he dropped it. The glass of the globe had all but disintegrated against the hardwood floor. The largest shard of glass didn’t even measure an inch. The rest of it barely bigger than the glitter and it all blended into one wet mess. I picked CJ up by his armpits and sat him in a chair. He’d already removed his shoes and I didn’t want him cut by the glass. I made a mental note to look for his shoes. He initially protested but stopped when he saw the look on my face. We sopped up the water and I picked up as much of the glass by hand as possible and tried to sweep some more. With the floor dried our host brought out the vacuum. I hope we managed to get all the glass up. I apologized profusely. But our hosts didn’t seem the slightest upset or even surprised.

I released CJ from the torment of his prison- the chair where I made him stay while we cleaned. He promptly ran off to join the others in play. And not ten minutes later, WC appeared and informed us that CJ had thrown up in the middle of the girls’ bedroom floor.

There’s a slight possibility we may not be invited back.

Holiday Movies

2010-12-21T12:28:00.000-08:00

Around my house right now Christmas and Holiday themed movies and shows are popular. New favorites and old classics are being played on the weekends and days out of school for snow. I asked them what their favorites are:
CJ:
Thomas the Train (at Nana's house- we don't own it).
Charlie Brown Christmas
Merry Madagascar

WC:
Veggie Tales: Tale of St. Nick (I was suprised this one was number 1).
Shrek the Halls
Christmas Story (every time the dogs get the turkey, he yells why don't they get the gun?)
Charlie Brown
Phinneas & Ferb: A Very Perry Christmas
How the Grinch Stole Christmas

Me
Charlie Brown
Grinch
White Christmas
Christmas Vacation
Christmas Story

What about you? What are your favorite holiday movies? What takes you back to your childhood?

Faux Gingerbread Men

2010-12-16T16:00:00.000-08:00

Ever since WC was two, we've been making cookies together for Christmas. We mix the dough, roll it out and cut out the cookies using different shape cookie cutters-WC's preference is the Gingerbread Man. But, like a lot of kids, actual gingerbread isn't a favorite. I came across a terrific recipe, simple, and more palatable for kids. My apologies in that I do not recall where this recipe came from to give proper credit:

"Gingerbread" Cookies
1 (3.5 ounce) package cook and serve butterscotch pudding mix
1/2 C butter
1/2 C packed brown sugar
1 egg
1 1/2 C all purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp cinnamon

1. In medium bowl cream together the dry butterscotch pudding mix, butter, and brown sugar until smooth. Stir in egg. Combine the flour, baking soda, ginger and cinnamon; stir into pudding mixture. Cover, and chill dough until firm, about 1 hour.
2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease baking sheets. On floured board roll dough out to about 1/8 inch thickness, cut into desired shapes with cookie cutters. Place cookies 2 inches apart on prepared baking sheets.
3. Bake for 10-12 minutes in the preheated oven, until cookies are golden at the edges. Cool on wire racks.

After they have cooled, I let the kids decorate them using cookie icing and different candies or green & red candy sprinkles. Their favorite candy decorations are gumdrops and m&m's candies.
This has become a holiday tradition that I have started in our home. I didn't grow up doing anything like this and I find it's a ton of fun. If you don't cook or bake with your kids I'd encourage you to give it a try- even if you don't think you're any good in the kitchen. This doesn't have to be anything elaborate- the more simple the better. You can even pick up a package of sugar cookie mix from the store- if you can't make your own dough. It can get messy but they have fun, we spend time together and they have fond memories to carry with them.

Hark the Herald...Fairy?

2010-12-14T10:16:00.000-08:00

The other night WC asked when we would put the fairy on top of the tree. Jay and I stared at him inquisitively for a beat then at each other before I asked him what he was talking about.

“You know, the lady with wings that goes on top of the tree.”

“That’s an angel.” Jay and I say in unison.

WC sees that we are annoyed by this and smiles. And he begins to protest that it is a fairy that goes on top of the tree. I tell him that it was not a group of fairy’s that announced the birth of Jesus to the shepherds. There’s a bad joke in there, somewhere. Of course with me annoyed at him, he keeps on because he thinks it’s funny and not likely to get him into trouble. I drop the topic and over the next few days make little jokes by referring to the fairy.

I imagine that most of our depictions of angels look nothing like the real thing. In the bible, when people encounter them, it is not described as pleasant- these people are terrified. They seem more like God’s night club bouncers than the ethereal images in our paintings and figurines. It got me thinking about our modest little angel on top of the tree. I bought her the first Christmas Jay and I had at our first apartment. In our barely 500 square feet of living space, we had to place the 4 ft tree on top of table because there wasn’t any floor space nor was there a way to rearrange it. We had little money and the angel was cheap and one of her wings is a little messed up. Over the next few years we’ve slowly moved our way up and down in world several times, bought a house and full size trees both real and artificial. Tree decorations have come and gone. The kids have made new ornaments and we’ve retired some that we never really liked anyway. The little angel has been our constant every Christmas. Jay has lifted up WC to put her on top of the tree since he was two. She is plain and slightly tattered, a reminder of where we’ve been. Even though my pathetic looking, little tree top angel may resemble a fairy more than a warrior of God, she reminds me that Jesus, himself, was born in a place where animals were kept. And this little angel will stay on top of our trees until she falls completely apart.

The Lookout

2010-12-12T09:37:00.000-08:00

This morning I woke up to see CJ's little feet in my doorway. He sat on the floor in the hall with his little legs outstretched. The bottom of his flannel train pj's and bare feet were all I could see.
"Ready," WC called from the kitchen.
"You have the gumdrops?" CJ called back.
Ah, he was the lookout. Over the past few months WC has been attempting to train his little brother in the art of being the lookout. Fortunately for me, CJ hasn't quite gotten the nuances of the job, yet.
A few seconds later he skips back into my doorway and notices that I'm awake, he points to his still full mouth, "Gumdrops," he mumbles then skips, happily, away.
It was too cute and funny for me to be angry at them. And WC told me that they'd only had three gumdrops each. I'd bought them for when we make our Christmas cookies, but I'm wondering if they will make it that long...

The Day of the Parade

2010-12-08T17:09:00.000-08:00

It has flurried a bit here, nothing has accumulated. Since we rarely get snow in middle Tennessee this early in the season, it is an anomaly of sorts. The boys were beside themselves with joy at seeing the flakes descend. Which is nice, I’d worried that since their experience with snow two feet deep in PA back in February that the paltry bit that passes for snow in our area would only serve to disappoint them from there on out.

I don’t like cold, not one single bit of it. If I could live in an area that never dropped below 67, I’d be a happy camper. But when snow was falling on the day of our local Christmas parade, I for one became kind of excited. Being in a Christmas parade with snow falling down seemed like it would be a cool experience. WC was to be in the Christmas parade and ride on the float with his scout pack. Then, he asked what it was that he would do in the parade. I explained that he would get to ride on the float with the other boys going down the street in the parade. “Will CJ get to ride too,” he asked.

I had not a clue if non scouts would get to be on the float and I didn’t want to tell him yes and then get there and it’s not true. So I told him that I didn’t think so, but that I wasn’t sure. That’s when he said that he didn’t want to do it. I tried everything in my bag of tricks with this kid. Usually I can garner cooperation by telling him that all he has to do is go try it once, then if he doesn’t like then he never has to do it again. Nope. Nada. Nothing. He wouldn’t even agree to go watch from the sidewalk.

“I don’t want people looking at me,” he argued.

“It’s not like you’ll be by yourself,” I replied. “You’ll be up there with a bunch of other boys from your pack. And you play with the boys from your den.”

“I play with them, but I don’t really know who they are,” he responded. And that pretty much ended the conversation.

What seven year old talks like that?

I Threatened to Cancel Christmas

2010-12-06T16:53:00.000-08:00

It always happens on days where we have tons going on. Maybe it's the magic of the season, the anticipation of toys or being hopped up on sugar but the kids simply will not behave. No matter what- we talk to them, use gentle correction or time out. On this day, however, all the usual stuff was falling on cemented ears in my house. Of course I was by myself. We'd put up the Christmas tree and Jay stayed until he helped me put the lights up- at that point I released him. Because he needed a haircut- heaven forbid one inch of hair cover that melon. Outside has turned frigid and gloomy, they are trapped inside. They're using the house as a race track/wrestling ring. If my sister ever moves out, I may just cover that entire room in padding and lock them in there when they get this way. I call them to come help decorate the tree. WC, doesn't want to. Wait, putting up the tree today was his idea. We all always decorate the tree together. I'm not decorating it by myself. And CJ just hung 6 ornaments on the same limb, backwards. WC, sulks his way into the room and after a while begins to seem like he's enjoying himself. Of course, he and CJ get into a fight. WC storms off just before we're finished and refuses to return. I replace the Christmas music cd that had been playing- I'm trying to be festive, damn it, with Shrek the Halls. This lures WC back to the room, but not to decorating. There's a slinky in the box of ornaments, why? The tree is up and the tree skirt is MIA. Add to list of stuff to pick up.
Up next is my 4 hour window to wait for the new dishwasher- the old one died and handle broke into pieces.The good news is that the boys have made up from their spat. The bad news is that they've made up from their spat and are now running at a full throttle energy that I can't even muster in my dreams. They are destroying faster than I can pick up/clean. Where did the footprints on the wall down the hall come from? Three broken ornaments in 30 minutes, leave them alone. Ornaments are not toys. They are worse now than as infants. After repeated attempts at restoring order I popped like a champagne bottle that's shaken furiously. The instant the pressure of the stress is released, I know my outburst was a mistake. I felt better- but it was still a mistake. The two stared at me like a pair slack jawed yokels with the same expression- you were serious, who knew? I soared past simply telling santa that they were naughty straight to the complete cancellation of the holiday. I said I'd put the tree away and everything. I stopped short of telling them that I'd shoot santa if he tried to slip in a toy. Neither of them genuinely believed that I would cancel Christmas, so not really an appropriate thing to threaten. I broke a rule of discipline- never threaten anything you aren't willing to follow through with. Many a parent gets in trouble with this one. The second thing I did wrong was have an emotional outburst. Never discipline during intense emotion- you will inevitably regret it. It was not appropriate modeling of behavior. Guess they know I am not perfect and I have things that I need to work on too.

When to give up on the Christmas Card Photograph

2010-12-03T22:10:00.000-08:00

Click here to view these pictures larger

Home Christmas Card Photography of Kids

2010-12-03T16:59:00.000-08:00

My son was two when I bought my first digital camera. Instantly, I fell in love with digital photography. The first December after this purchase, I had the brilliant idea to take a photo of my two year old next to the Christmas tree and use it for our Christmas card. My first mistake was to foolishly believe that I could get a two year old to stand next to anything. If I told him to turn around-he'd turn the wrong way. If I said to sit- he'd stand up. If I asked him to smile-he would smile the split second after I took the photograph. So, what's a novice mom and photographer to do?
A woman I work with came up with a great idea- he likes to sit inside boxes, right? Then take one of the boxes that our printer paper comes in (the company buys in bulk) and cover the bottom in wrapping paper and ribbon. Then throw some tissue paper and set the child inside the box. After about 35-40 shots here is the one that became our card:

WC as a present. Looking back on it, it would have been better if we'd had other boxes around. For a novice attempt I was happy with it.
I didn't attempt another card photo until CJ was two. I dressed them both up and took them to a Nashville attraction, Cheekwood. During December they decorate the mansion in beautiful trees and Christmas decor. The goal was a good photo of the two of them in a beautiful setting. CJ wouldn't have anything to do with this. Unfortunately due to a change in computers, I have lost the digital files that contained the photograph. Luckily, I had uploaded it to Shutterfly back then and can post the photo from there. Look for it soon.
The easiest photo, by far, came last year. I ran them an extra bubbly, bubble bath and I placed Santa hats on their heads and placed bubbles on cheeks and chins as "beards." They had a blast and it was quick and painless. Which is what you want when it comes to taking photos of your kids at Christmas and all year long. Young children do best with simple and fun wait until they are a little older before you go for elaborate. The more you want a great photo- the less likely you are to get it. Just have fun and don't stress. And take loads of shots. Be up for diverting from your original plan, you never know when you'll score a shot better than you ever hoped for.

Give Thanks...

2010-11-25T08:11:00.000-08:00

Today, I am thankful for the family that I will be spending time with. Time with our loved ones is short and I’m blessed with plenty of the everyday little things that make up a lifetime. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my Savior Jesus Christ. And for my good health and the healthiness of my children and family, I am grateful. I’m thankful for my hubby- Even though he can drive me crazy. I’m thankful that we get up every day and have jobs to go to that day.

I’m thankful for all of the people in the military serving overseas and here at home. And for their families- it is the love and support of those holding down the fort at home that allow them to do their jobs. I’m thankful for the freedom that their sacrifices provide.

I’m thankful for the examples that my late grandparents set- that through hard work and perseverance you can achieve. I’m thankful to my parents for sticking it out together, through thick and thin. I’m even thankful for that embarrassingly insane extended family because, I’ve discovered that ‘normal’ is boring.

I’m thankful that WC has figured out how lucky he is. And that not everyone in the world has the same advantages he has had. I’m thankful that CJ’s temper tantrums have eased and that he’s started giving out hugs on a regular basis. I’m thankful that I get to be their mom.

I wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving.

Alexander

2010-11-23T10:38:00.000-08:00

Two years ago today, my godson, Alexander was born in silence. We knew when she went to the hospital, if they couldn’t stop it, that he would be born into the arms of Jesus. Alexander, who was wanted more than anything and not only by his parents, was simply still too early for the NICU.

I spent the days in silent prayer vigil, almost constantly praying, going through the motions of my days. I’d prayed until I fell asleep then I’d wake in the middle of the night and continue praying. I waited for an update to tell me that everything would be alright and Alex would stay inside the womb where he belonged. I held onto the hope until news of his arrival came. My godson had arrived and left this world.

Because of his prematurity his parents were allowed to have the labor and delivery of their choice, free of medical intervention. In peace Alexander was delivered lovingly by his father. They said their goodbye in private.

Every so often, I wonder what Alexander would look like today. If his arrival hadn’t come too early, if he had been on-time then who would he be today? He wouldn’t be turning two, no, he’d still be in his first year on the way two. He’d be learning to walk and into everything. Would he look like his mom or dad? What color would his hair/eyes be? I’d get texted photos of him happy & smiling.

So, Alexander’s story doesn’t end there. His legacy lives on. His arrival gave his mom’s doctors just the information they needed. The very next year, Alexander’s parents brought home his younger siblings- A brother and a sister, twins, who were healthy. Without him, they wouldn’t be here. His time here may have been very short compared to some…but his impact is lasting.

When To Stay Home

2010-11-22T16:24:00.000-08:00

I discovered yesterday that I should not leave the boys in the care of their father during a Titans football game...even a bad one. It's a total cliche about men being unable to tend to their kids while the wife is away. I'm a firm believer in 'you helped make them, you help raise them' mentality. And normally, Jay does a good job with them. I learned a long time ago to just accept the fact that things would be accomplished differently under his watch. But as long as everyone is alive and pretty much in same shape as I left, we're a-okay. When I arrive home from a trip at the store yesterday, I discover WC, shirtless. Odd, but not that unusual. Then CJ enters the room...oh how I wish I'd thought to grab the camera. There he stood...in his Thomas the Train undies and his arms were still in the sleeves of his shirt but the rest of it stretched across the back of neck to his shoulder blades looking like he was wearing a woman's shrug. Where were his pants and why was his shirt half off? The only thing CJ said was that he was stuck inside his shirt. From the look on Jay's face, he obviously hadn't a clue to what was happening under his nose...

In the spirit of upcoming Thanksgiving: I am thankful that WC does not have homework this week and only one more day of school!

A Season Lost

2010-11-13T09:05:00.000-08:00

Last Sunday I went to the grocery store with WC. He wanted to do a cooking project and we needed some ingredients. We usually put together a simple desert that he can construct by himself. Now that he's gotten a little older, I wanted him to do something a little more challenging, but that he could still complete successfully. I settled on rice krispie treats which involved mostly melting and stirring. His challenge would be that I would ask him to measure the ingredients- a handy real life application to the math he's learned in school. He wanted to decorate them up for fall and use candy corn. He really just wanted a bag of candy corn and saw an opportunity. But, at the store, down the candy aisle, not a single bag of candy corn could be found. We went to the "seasonal" aisle and we discovered red and green as far as the eye could see. I stood there, dumbfounded, at all the boxes of Christmas candy. Christmas Candy? I still have ten pounds of Halloween candy in the kitchen! There's a six foot snowman waving at me from aisle 16 and it's 75 degrees outside. Where did Thanksgiving go? Did I miss something? I mean, I have enough trouble keeping up with what day it is. I complain the year is slipping by me, but this is ridiculous. We've gone straight from "give me candy" to "give me toys and candy" without stopping somewhere along the way to be grateful. I suppose that gratitude doesn't sell. But, this girl isn't buying a single Christmas item until after Thanksgiving.
And in this economy retailers are trying to squeeze every last dime we have out of us-in order to stay afloat. That is every one's goal. While, I will admit that we all need to have enough, business and personal accounts alike. I'm not sure that the idea to start Christmas earlier and earlier every year isn't rooted in greed for some. They make more money if they can convince a population of people that they can buy their way to making a perfect Christmas. And having the perfect Christmas is the key to happiness. Now who wouldn't be happier with a six foot waving snowman?

Juggling

2010-11-01T16:58:00.000-07:00

Here lately I'm finding that I do not have enough hours in a day. Between a fairly long commute (31 miles one way), the full-time day job, my children, spouse, editing and polishing my story, studying up on grammar, thinking about my next story, blogging, researching agents and the publishing industry...I might be leaving something out... You get it. Loads of items on the list and only 24 hours in a day with 6-7 of them devoted to sleeping and 8 of them taken up by the folks who deposit money in my account and give me health insurance-there's little time for the other things. My exercise regimen has fallen by the wayside because otherwise my sleeping would fall to around 5 hours. And to top it all off, now I'm sick.
But, two things came to light last week that made me drop almost everything in my list above. Report card day happened. For the most part, it did not surprise me, he was where he needed to be for most things and the items that were on the lower side I knew about, except one. It leaped off the page and slapped me square in face and told me that I was a terrible mom. Okay, not literally, but it might as well have...An item at the bottom of the page was checked that said 'I have a good self image.' I verified with the key needed to decipher the report card-it meant-needs improvement. He doesn't have a good self image? Why not? He's intelligent, good looking, good personality...how could he not feel good about himself? There's nothing wrong with him. I tell him all the time how wonderful I think he is...don't I?
The teachers written remarks in the comments section stated something along the lines of that he is easily frustrated and he swings back and forth between perfectionism and half-assing it. I'm paraphrasing here.
Me, being me, I then research kids on self esteem and self confidence and building of both. My initial findings centered on attachment parenting and infants...And that's great and all but I have a 7 year old and whatever happened as an infant is gone. I don't get a redo of that. Did those months I spent in postpartum depression have that big of an impact? Surely all of the nurturing that I've done since then have made a bigger impact. I've gone in search of more. I've read and went down lists of items to build your child's self esteem and checked them off one-by-one. Then something stuck out- make time to ask your child questions and converse with him/her and really listen to the answers without multitasking your adult responsibilities at the same time. This shows your child they are important. OUCH! Nope, I haven't done that in some time.
Also, there was to get down and play with your child in activity of their choice and put aside your phone, computer or whatever else you have to do. For at least a little while.
And that is what I have done. I will, of course continue to blog. But sometimes it might have to go on the back burner to put some special boys first. And I hope to continue to research the subject and provide some entries on my experience in attempting to build him up. I'm not sure why he's such a sensitive child, he always has been. My main job is and always will be to parent these children and grow them into good men.

I Know Natalie

2010-10-23T07:51:00.000-07:00

Something no one wants to go through. Stop by and give this mom some support and pray for their healing. Go, grab your kids and hug them tight and appreciate every single second.

More Chattanooga Trip Review

2010-10-18T19:10:00.000-07:00

Our first evening in Chattanooga we chose to dine at The Choo Choo hotel. We'd chased the kids around The Creative Discovery Center all afternoon and we're interested in going far after we checked in. Our trip package included two meals at The Garden Restaurant inside the main building. Also, kids twelve and under eat free--cha ching--deals like that do not exist anymore.We strolled from our train car to the main building while attempting to keep the kids away from the train. The Garden restaurant is bright and airy with wrought iron tables and chairs. The hostess was friendly and we were seated quickly. There were about a dozen other tables full about five thirty on Thursday evening. The menu didn't have a large selection. The waitress left a lot to be desired. We ordered- Jay and I each ordered a sandwich and WC a cheeseburger and I don't recall what CJ requested. But after we ordered the waitress returned with rolls and told us that it would be a while since they had a bunch of orders. We looked around and with the place about empty were worried about the ability of the kitchen staff, if they couldn't handle this at dinnertime. The food arrived shortly after. Turned out the kitchen wasn't ill equipped to deal-it was the waitress. Jay's buffalo chicken sandwich didn't arrive with the blue cheese that it was supposed to; she said she would bring him some. He sat and waited, unable to begin eating with the rest of us. Nearly ten minutes passed before we saw her again. In the meantime CJ's cough that he'd developed that morning on the drive and now progressively worse the more tired he became. He'd also began this annoying habit of forcing himself to cough harder than necessary and sounding like he was trying to throw up; no amount of scolding would change this. And CJ's mood deteriorated throughout the meal until WC was hiding his face while at the table. I ended up taking him back to train room before WC and Jay finished eating. I needed to make sure WC enjoyed his food and was able to eat dessert on his birthday without his brother vomiting on the table. Also, I worried CJ's constant hack might ruin dinner for the dozen or so strangers surrounding us. And fittingly, after CJ and I left the restaurant, he didn't cough. We returned to the room and I ran him a bath. I've discussed the bathroom in my previous post. Our first night there was comfortable; we all slept well.
Now I've spent a little time in Eastern time zone and I've never noticed this before. The sun really comes up late...maybe it's the time of year? I'm laying there and the clock says seven a.m. and it is pitch black outside. It looks like the middle of the night. I had to remember that it was my six o'clock. It was odd, for me. And the kids were already bouncing off the walls. Can't quite comprehend why but every morning that we don't have school/work they are awake and up well before sunrise. On school/work day we can't blast them out of bed with a high pressure hose.This is the pattern without fail.
For breakfast we head back to The Garden restaurant (yes, even with the horrible service) but again we have free breakfast voucher and their breakfast is in buffet form. Oh yes, four free all-you-can-eat buffets for breakfast. Can it get much better? The same hostess from the night before sat us and she was really sweet. The buffet contained a good assortment of your standard breakfast foods and we all ate well, even the kids. My goal was to stuff them well because that day we were headed to the TN Aquarium and IMAX; so lunch would be late.
The Choo Choo hotel also has other dining options on site that we did not try:
The pizza place- we didn't want pizza.
A fine dining train car- I can't think of the name but the description in the book used the words elegant and romantic. Yep, not words used to describe places my kids belong.
And a restaurant where the staff also sings. The sign on the door stated that a 15% entertainment fee is added onto the meal and that didn't include gratuity. Personally, not my thing and I really didn't want to spend the money on that.
Would I recommend The Garden Restaurant in the Choo Choo? For the breakfast buffet, yes. For another meal? Maybe. With one experience, it is really hard to say. Maybe she was having an off night? Maybe you'd get another server. There is also a dinner buffet on Friday and Saturday nights. We didn't try it. But I think it would be worth a try.

Next entry: Aquarium, IMAX, Zoo and where else we ate.

Chattanooga: Day 1

2010-10-14T16:43:00.000-07:00

The morning we headed out on our trip, CJ developed a cough. The only thing we heard for the entire 111 miles was him in the back impersonating the hack of a 70 year old smoker. Not the way we wanted this thing to start. Also, I get horribly car sick-it only takes an hour of riding to flip my stomach upside down. I'm best friends with anti-nausea medicine. Only that morning I'd forgotten about it until it was time to leave. Guess who got to drive first? As much as I dislike driving Monteagle Mountain, I dislike vomiting more.
We arrive at The Chattanooga Choo Choo hotel and the kids get their first look at the row of train cars that have been renovated into hotel rooms and they freak. We get to sleep in one of those? The reservations person had told me that even though we couldn't check in until 3pm, we could pick up our package tickets at the desk as early as 10am and get started on our day. I think it was around noon when we made it there. I took the computer print out of the tickets that were promised with our package-just in case. But I found everything in perfect order. We hit the streets in search of lunch. At first Jay tried to drive but we didn't know where to park and the price of parking...I finally convinced him to return to the hotel and go for the option the desk clerk told me: park at the hotel and take the free electric bus, they run every ten minutes and go everywhere a tourist needs. We boarded the electric bus and rode. A group of college girls boarded at the next stop and one of them began talking to CJ about his Thomas the Train shirt and she knew names of the trains from the show. Then in conversation with WC, they discovered it was his birthday. Then the entire group sang 'Happy Birthday' to him. Not being one to like the attention of strangers, he was somewhere between delighted and mortified.
Our first lunch there we hit Sticky Fingers BBQ. A guy Jay knows from the area recommended it. The food and service was good. A nice laid back place with a decent kids menu- they ate their meals well. And from there it was walking distance to the Creative Discover Museum. If you have kids that are three years or older this is a must-do place. They have an area for smaller kids and I may be wrong but I think you get more of your money's worth with them a little older than toddler. CJ enjoyed himself but I worried about him trying to keep up with WC on some of the things. This is a huge building filled with hands-on exploration, observation and play. At $6.95 for kids 2-12 & $8.95 ages 13 and older it is a steal of an activity because they can stay all day and not get bored.The giant dinosaur skeleton standing prominently through two rooms amazed them as did the big sand pit archaeological dig. Which was a slightly a concern for me with the potential for sand to be thrown into eyes or placed into the hats provided and dumped on a head. There are rooms devoted to different types of musical instruments. The percussion room was a giant hit with my boys. They played everything that they could beat in that room. As was the room with a projector that displayed whoever stood in front of the camera on the screen either in outline or color and it would change what it would do. The boys would start the player piano outside the room to play what sounded like a looney tunes song and dance in front of the camera to see themselves on screen- they had to have that musical accompaniment. The place closed at five and we about shut it down. Mama was tired and the kids wired.
Now I'd heard both good and bad things about the train car rooms at the Choo Choo hotel. But as much as the kids love trains we decided to take the gamble. I think, like most things in life, it's all about expectations. And lets face it, these are metal train cars and they were built as such. There's only a limited amount of space to begin with. I thought they made an excellent use of the space they had. Our room had a queen sized bed and a daybed with a trundle pull out. Everything was comfortable, the sheets were pristine white and even the trundle came complete with a thick twin size mattress, it would have supported Jay for a comfortable nights sleep. The only thing was when the trundle was pulled out there was no way to get from the queen bed to the bathroom. To remedy that we moved a chair over next to the door to provide a path. The bathroom, had this not been a train car, wouldn't have cut it in any other hotel. It wasn't nasty but the tub wasn't in great condition and the shower head moved around and was very low- and I'm short 5'2" and I had to bend down a tad to wash my hair. The heater in the bathroom didnt work- not that big a deal. I did like the little one cup coffee maker next to the sink-the only water source in the room. I started brewing a cup when I got in the shower and had a nice cup waiting for me when I finished. The towels were scratchy as hell, nice for a over-all exfoliation. But not generally what I want in a bath towel. The hotel staff were friendly and helpful. We received a phone call our first evening to see how we were settling in and if there was anything he could do.
I noticed a sign in the room that said something to the tune of as much as we've tried to sound proof there isn't anyway to completely sound proof a metal train car (makes sense when you think about it). Noises from your neighbors can be expected. Oh and the hot water heater only holds 30 gallons. That last one ended up not being a problem-just space out the baths. The first night I heard nothing. So I thought the sign was probably in response to some overly sensitive types being big babies. Then the second night I awoke to sounds of adults talking and kids playing. I assumed maybe people were right outside and rolled over- I'd taken some night-time cold medication and fell back asleep without problem. Then some time in the wee hours of the morning, well before the sun even considered rising, I woke again, to a strange sound...growling? What is that? Where is it coming from? I sat up. Jay tapped me. What is that?
"The people in the next room snoring," he replied. I started laughing. Oh my God, it sounded like a bear. He said that he woke and thought it was me until he realized that I was quiet. So, my tip on this is do not stay in the train car on your honeymoon or romantic get away. My final thought on the train cars- it was fine for two nights. I wouldn't want it for longer because the close quarters start to close in with two very active boys and a man. Bring ear plugs or sleeping pills.

My next entry I'll discuss the Garden Restaurant there at the hotel and some of the other things we did.

Celebrating Seven

2010-10-11T16:50:00.000-07:00

This year for WC's birthday we decided to do something that we've never done. We decided that we were not going to throw a birthday party. Every year its nothing but a hassle from relatives asking us to work around their soccer schedule, out of town wiccan ceremony, to people who simply don't understand the term RSVP...a call, email or a text to say yay, nay or even maybe would be better than nothing. So I end up purchasing food and cake to serve an army because, lets face it, you don't want to be the host who runs out and risk being left with an ass load of cake. This past summer Jay wanted to go on a family weekend together before school started-one problem- he has to give a 30 day notice to use his vacation time. WC started school in two weeks. That idea shot but then I set my sights on fall break, which just happened to fall the same week of WC's birthday. So the idea of taking a trip for his birthday was born. But where? It couldn't be too far and had to be something he'd really enjoy.
A day or two later Jay emailed me a link to The Chattanooga Choo Choo website and a weekend package for two adults and two kids which included a two night stay in a Victorian Train Car that had been turned into a hotel room and tickets to the major attractions: Creative Discovery Museum, Aquarium, IMAX, Zoo and Model Railway Museum. Perfect. I made reservations the next day. For us it couldn't be more simple. Chattanooga is about a two hour drive for us. We'd drive up Thursday morning (his birthday) and stay the night and Friday night before checking out Saturday morning and hitting our last attraction before heading home. We told WC about our plans and made sure he was cool with foregoing his traditional party for a trip. He was all for it.
Wednesday before the big day I was taking WC to his yearly checkup with the pediatrician. Two minutes from the office my cell phone rang. CJ was sick at the daycare and I had to go pick him up. He wasn't running a fever but he'd had three bouts of a diarrhea and per policy, must be picked up in an hour. Luckily they gave me a reprieve to take WC to his appointment. But the future of a carefully planned trip hung in the balance of this child's digestive system and whatever was wrong.
WC passed through his checkup without hitch. She was very happy (as am I) with the sucess of the inhaled steriod at keeping his asthma symptoms in check better than ever. In his entire life he's never experienced such a long stretch of healthiness (Praise God!).
We arrived at the daycare as CJ's class was coming inside from morning outdoor play. He spotted us at the end of the hall and screamed 'Mommy' and flew down the hall as fast as his little legs could carry him, beaming smile he jumped into my waiting arms. He seemed perfectly fine to me. They confirmed he hadn't had another bowel movement since they called me. It didn't matter. I had the day off work anyway. So we went home, I still worried about the trip. The decided to prepare like we were going and pray that CJ didn't take a turn for the worse.

Stay tuned for Wednesdays entry on our trip. Tomorrow I'll be leading my first den meeting for the scouts!!!!!

Stuff People Say

2010-10-08T16:10:00.000-07:00

At the scout camp I ran into a girl (woman) who I used to go to school with. I haven't seen/heard of her in a number of years. She wasn't anyone that I hung around but I'd known her since Junior High. Her kids are older than mine, I recall she said her youngest is eight. We stood before dinner Saturday evening and had that little I know we weren't friends but since I didn't hate you we'll politely catch up chat. When she discovered that WC is my oldest child she said, 'Wow, you certainly waited a long time.' I just kind of giggled and moved on, all the while thinking- really, I was 27 when I had him...that's waiting a long time? The more I thought of the comment, the more it pissed me off. One of my best friends in the world has had a long struggle with fertility and lost three babies to preterm birth. Because of that I'm very cognizant to these types of comments. I personally don't consider myself to have waited a long time. It took a year to get pregnant. I don't consider that any where near a struggle to have a child. Not that I think she meant anything by it. It goes into the slot of perception and experience. She's never had personal experience. But what if she said it to someone who really struggled with fertility, who didn't make the choice to stay childless? The hurt that sort of thoughtless remark could make. I cringe every time someone at work makes a remark to a guy there who has never had children with his wife. He says this is by choice-they don't want them. My thought is to leave him be. If the don't want them, fine. No harm. But what if this is just what they are telling people after years of trying or perhaps one of them simply cannot biologically. What business is it of anyone? We really don't know. I've gone off on a tangent now.
I'll close with one of my favorite quotes, "Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." Plato

WC Turns Seven

2010-10-07T16:03:00.000-07:00

It's so hard to believe that WC is turning seven. It doesn't seem like seven years ago today he came into our lives turning us from a couple into a family.
This year instead of a party we are going on a family trip. I can't wait to post stories of our new adventure when we return.

Spoiled Chick Goes Camping Part 3

2010-10-05T16:02:00.000-07:00

We ended our service project, piled into the trucks and headed back to camp. WC's group was responsible for helping put out lunch- a laughable endeavor with 6 & 7 year old boys. Luckily, lunch was sandwiches that people could construct themselves- we just had to organize the stuff on the table-while our teen aged Boy Scout helper circled like a vulture waiting on the animal to go on and die already. The boys had the afternoon free to play as they wish. We had a decision to make whether to sleep in the tent another night or pack it up and go home. WC & CJ both picked to camp out again. After CJ's over-tired meltdown of the night before I wasn't eager to repeat. But I did after all take a day off work and spent the entire day getting ready and the amount of time spent on set up...it didn't seem worth all the effort for one night. Jay was okay to stay another night. So, we were staying. I made plans to avoid the boys becoming overstimulated. Before we went to dinner I set out the boys sleeping bags and put the sheets back on the air bed. I'd put it away that morning in order to avoid it getting dirty. The floor of tent was dirty. I'm anal and wished I'd brought a broom. After a survey of the others, I discovered no one brought a broom and I'm the only one who cared about a dirt on the tent floor. Okay, so I pretend to not notice the dirt. I get the sleeping quarters arranged and off we go to assemble our hobo packs. I'd never heard of a hobo pack before but it was the best dinner. A couple of the older groups had spent the time chopping the veggies and the chicken. Basically you take a piece of aluminium foil and spread butter on foil and top with your chicken or beef and peppers, onions, mushrooms, potatoes etc. throw some seasoning in and wrap up and place on an open pit of ready charcoal (some of the seasoned scouts opted to put theirs on their own wood campfire) for a half an hour. Even my picky sons devoured theirs.
After dinner they played some more and CJ went toe to toe with a ten year old over a nerf football. CJ picked up a football from the ground and walked around with it. The older boy came over and traded CJ a smaller foam ball for the larger, blue nerf ball. It was a fair trade and I didn't say anything- the child wasn't attempting to take advantage of CJ. The green ball was more CJ's size. But CJ didn't realize that the boy wasn't just looking at the ball but taking it to play. He angrily protested the trade. I attempted to convince CJ that the green ball was perfectly fine for him to play with. He protested on the grounds that blue was his favorite color. He then proceeded to stalk the boy with the blue nerf football. I told a group of laughing parents that somehow, some way, CJ would end up with the ball. I don't think they believed me, at first.And sure enough not fifteen minutes later here come CJ down the path, blue nerf football tucked under his arm.
Saturday night they were supposed to hold a bonfire with marshmallows roasting. But once the boys arrived back at the tent and discovered their beds ready, they wanted to go in and sit on their sleeping bags. Jay went to shower and the boys and myself sat in the tent with our lights and they played around. Until the cub master arrived bearing glow sticks. They selected green (WC) & blue (CJ) and then we turned out the lanterns and sat in the complete darkness, except those glow sticks. They whirled them around creating patterns. Jay arrived back and we all sat around with a flashlight on and talked. Then the shadow puppet show on the tent wall began. The favorite characters for WC were all "old, old." A rabbit, dog and bear. What makes them all old, old? I asked. A beard. He stuck a finger poking out from his puppets chin to signify a beard...and a beard meant old. I'm not sure where that association came from. From shadow puppets began story telling. WC asked Jay to tell him a scary story. "It was a night much like this," he began. "And a family much like us were sleeping out in a tent that kinda looked like this when they heard..." He scratched the side of the tent. I glared at him with the If you scare these kids I'm going to beat you til you can't move anymore look. "Then they heard it again..." He scratched the side of the tent. Both boys leaned forward in anticipation. Then Jay belched. And they dissolved into laughter and story disintegrated into the story of the "gassy ghost" haunting a camp ground. In the end someone gave the gassy ghost an antacid and all was well. We ended up having to tell several more stories all off the top of our heads. Jay asked WC to come up with a title and he'd make up the story. WC's choice was Thomas the Train and the Big Smelly armpit (what else can one expect from a 6 yr old boy). And Jay delivered another story that left them in stitches. At some point during the stories that followed, CJ climbed into his sleeping bag, covered himself with his security blanket and dozed off.
We fell asleep Saturday night to a much cooler evening. I'd held off purchasing sleeping bags for us simply because if WC didn't like it then I didn't want to be out more money than I'd already dropped. I wish that I'd brought more blankets. I froze my butt off. I also overinflated the air mattress. In an attempt not to feel like I was about to be thrown overboard every time Jay moved, I added more air. Now I didn't feel him move but now there was no give in the mattress what so ever. Might as well have slept on the ground.
The sun rose to a beautiful crisp Sunday morning. I walked back to the tent from the restroom just after dawn; someone had a campfire roaring. The smell hit my nose and it smelled like comfort. I climbed back into the bed and snuggled close to Jay, cause he's warm. And WC sits up in his sleeping bag and throws up. And thus ends our camping experience. The boys wait in my car while Jay and I pack up camp. Both boys threw up in the backseat while waiting. Just great...

Spoiled Chick Camping Part 2

2010-09-29T19:39:00.000-07:00

The boys lay sprawled across their sleeping bags wearing only underwear. There I sat between them, the tent lit by only battery operated lantern, fanning them with a plastic dinner plate. An overstimulated CJ had dissolved into a fit of tears a half an hour earlier at the mention of going to bed now lay still. Just when I thought he'd dozed off he would speak. If I could get them cool enough, maybe they could sleep. Then CJ asked me why I was fanning them with a plate. "To keep you cool," I replied. "Stop it and go to bed," he said. Gee, I work and I slave and I sit up in a tent in the middle of the night fanning you and this is the thanks I get. I went to "bed" and attempted to settle in for the night. At first light drops splattered against the outside of the tent. "Is it raining," WC asked. Jay confirmed it was and I waited for the freak out to begin (he's been very afraid of storms since the May floods). But he seemed to remain calm. Then the bottom of the clouds dropped out. I dozed on and off the rest of the night. I'd wake and reach over to the tent floor, praying that I didn't feel water. I'd find all dry and switch on the flashlight to see two sleeping boys across the tent and nothing dripping from the ceiling. And back to sleep if only for a short while. The downpour brought a cool breeze through the vents in the tent. We were comfortable, at last. The sun rose on Saturday morning to drops dripping from the tree leaves and signifying the end of my first night in a tent. Birds fought loudly overhead. I glanced over to find WC laying awake and staring up at the ceiling with a disgusted look on his face. He stayed that way for sometime before grabbing his pillow and diving his head underneath to try and drown out the squawking.
After breakfast we were off for our service project. All the boys piled into the back of a couple trucks to head down to the office. I loved the look on their little faces when they saw the big truck they would ride in. For our service project we were cleaning a new walking trail for the park. The little boys had to pick up rocks from the middle of the trail and line them along the edges. Even CJ participated. But his thing was to rearrange the rocks on the side of the trail. Keeping him on the trail was another time consuming activity. I voted CJ most likely to get poison ivy out there. However, one of the older boys managed to beat him to him by going out and pulling poison ivy directly off the side of the tree with his hands. He was promply whisked away to the office to wash. I'm just grateful it wasn't CJ!

Spoiled Chick Goes Camping: Part 1

2010-09-27T17:24:00.000-07:00

I admit when WC asked if he could try scouts I was more than a tad apprehensive. After all, this is the same kid who used to be afraid of ants and butterflies. Not to mention, I'm not the outdoorsy type. I love to go hiking but at the end of the day I'm used to retiring to a rented cabin with a bath tub and a four poster king bed. So I wasn't too keen on the prospect of sleeping in a tent. BUT he's always been a timid child and afraid to try new things. When I put him in karate before kindergarten to boost his confidence, he cried every class for the first six weeks. So when he proposed quitting karate in favor trying something new I couldn't say no. So, I made up my mind to strap on a pair and go for it. I've discovered that the cub scouts is very much a family oriented organization. It is just as much for the parents as the child. There is no dropping your kid off for an hour and leaving (not that I would do that with my 6 almost 7 year old). The parents stay and our participation is vital to the success of the den. It's all about fostering family. I like it. Much to Jay's grumble, all four of us, were heading out camping. Thursday afternoon CJ threw up four times. He never ran a fever or acted sick. So we made contingency plans that one of us would have to take WC and the other stay home with CJ. Jay volunteered to stay home and I called him a little girl.
Friday afternoon I loaded my car and the kids and I headed out. Jay wouldn't be able to leave work early enough to make it before sundown. His only job was to fill the cooler and bring it.
I found the location and even the campsite with ease. Odd for me since I get lost in my own house. It was hot humid and nasty feeling. Unloading the car and setting up was misery compounded with the rapid loss of daylight--which did not bring relief. I could have wrung a gallon of sweat of of my bra easily. A very good chance of rain loomed in the forecast which brought the promise of cold front. At least then it wouldn't be 95 degrees...I mean seriously...it is September, right? Hello? Fall...Autumn...change of season...where the hell are you?
Armed with their battery powered lanterns the boys headed out to wander the campsite and find people that WC knew. I followed along in the dark. Up and down the paths in and out and around trees. Please, please, please...I have to sit down! They began to complain about being thirsty...Jay still hadn't arrived yet. At that moment I discovered my phone didn't have reception. Phoneless, computerless...I was without any form of communication. A small seed of panic plopped down in my gut. How could I survive? Since my phone was down to one battery bar and pretty much useless except as an expensive clock, I shut it off and threw it into my bag. Inside the tent was hot as hell. Finally, I remembered that I brought their refillable water bottles and we headed off to the bathroom for running water. On our way back from the bathroom a man came from out of the trees and grabbed WC--it was Jay!
Stay tuned Wednesday for more of the spoiled chicks first camping experience.

This Week In The Nest...

2010-09-23T15:55:00.000-07:00

It has been nonstop this week. And I haven't had an opportunity to sit down and compose a cute little story in the midst. Jay had a job interview that would have meant moving away. So after several days of agony we were disappointed and relieved all at the same time when they chose someone who wouldn't have to move an entire family for the position. While it would have been exciting, I didn't really want to leave.
We've been preparing for the Bobcat badge in the Cub Scout world. And it requires more memorization that I have brain cells. He has to learn the Promise, Law of the Pack, motto, salute, handshake, and what WEBLOS means (I'm prob forgetting something). WC is a fast learner...but he refuses to talk to people he doesn't know so getting credit is going to be tricky. We'll get there, we always do.Right now I am preparing for our first ever Cub Scout camp out this weekend. And in my standard fashion, I have next to nothing ready. I find that I'm flying by the seat of my pants more and more these days. I have a tent...and that's it. I admit that it's a very important piece of equipment when it comes to camping out but I don't think we'll be very comfortable with just a tent. So, tomorrow is a whirlwind day of gathering camping supplies. This will be the first ever camp out for 3 out of our 4 family members (aunt cat refuses to even try). So stay tuned for next week there will be stories of this little excursion. And I sincerely hope that none of my stories end with the phrase, "So that's how we landed in the Emergency Room."

Somethings Not Right...

2010-09-17T16:07:00.000-07:00

You know the feeling. If you have kids and the house is quiet while they're home and they're not hog tied in the closet and it isn't the middle of the night. They're doing something they are not supposed to. In my household that is pretty much the only time they aren't loud enough to drown out the TV at top volume.
Last Friday night, Jay and I were eating dinner. I decided to allow them to stay up past their normal bedtime. They were watching a Bugs Bunny DVD on the television in our room. That's right, my kids love the old Bugs Bunny and Looney Tunes cartoons. New computer animation be darned, the old classics stand the test of time in the entertainment department. Even though they are allowed to watch minimal television, they are seldom quiet for very long even when it's on. So when they were quiet for several minutes it caught my attention. I'd began to feel uneasy when Jay asked me if I was just as nervous as he was. I nodded and agreed that I felt uneasy. Not thirty seconds passed when WC rounded the corner. "CJ peed in your bathroom floor," he announced. Jay and I stared at each other. "Then I had to take off my sock," WC continued. "Cause, I'd stepped in the pee and my sock was all wet."
"Where's your brother now," I ask (scared of the answer).
"He's standing in front of the potty waiting for you to come whip his butt." (I highly doubt that)
Jay falls over laughing. WC stares at him looking appalled. "This family is disgusting." He declared and stomped off.
Before I reach the bathroom I just assume that he'd stood in front of the toilet and simply missed. He's not supposed to use our bathroom because the toilet is three inches higher than the one in the hall bathroom and he can't reach over it easily while standing. But when I reach the bathroom and open the door the scene unfolded. There stood CJ in front of the toilet-yes. But facing the opposite direction. And the giant puddle square in the middle of the floor. I had to return to the kitchen to retrieve the roll of paper towels and to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
WC, even more appalled, is wondering aloud how we find peeing in the bathroom floor funny. It wasn't funny but sometimes if we don't laugh...we might go crazy instead.
While CJ was verbally reprimanded for his actions, I did not "whip his butt."

The Easy Way to Wake Your Parents: Preschool Edition

2010-09-14T15:52:00.000-07:00

In the hour before sunrise on Saturday morning I was in a peaceful, dreamless sleep. Unaware of the jolt that would send me from serene to my hair standing on end. A blaring light entered my consciousness. I thought for a brief second that perhaps I'd died and it was that great bright light we always hear about. Then..."I gotta go pee-pee" screamed its way into my ears. Now, I'm certain that I'm not dead...but I can't see. I hold my hand up to block the glaring light from our ceiling. Jay has jumped up and mumbling some version of what the ****is going on? "CJ, turn that light off," I yell. "But, I gotta go pee-pee," he replied.
I roll from the bed and stumble across the room holding one hand out in front of me. On a good day, I'm visually challenged. Now sans glasses and with scorched cornea's the world is a blurry purple splotch. "You should have just come up to my side of the bed and told me." I say. I switch off the light and he turns to huff away. "You made me sad," he yells. "You blinded me," I yell back. "Now get in that bathroom."
We take of that and I take him back to bed. "But, I'm hungry," he protested. I retrieve a slice of cheese from the fridge. I leave him in bed eating his cheese and return to my room. But my heart is still pounding and the adrenaline pumping through my system, so I'm not sure that I'd be able to return to a peaceful slumber. I lay next to Jay; assume he'd gone back to sleep. A couple minutes later he says, "I think I may have wet myself a little."

One Lucky Man

2010-09-10T17:03:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago today Jay bought a "new" car. Not brand new but new to us. The decision came about to trade in his already paid for automobile when it began to have transmission issues. We were faced with a dilemma: shell out the money for the work and have to keep the car several more years or take on another car payment (my car has around 1 year left). He wanted to take the route of the buying. While I didn't want another car payment, I also didn't want the car to break down on his commute to or from work either. He drives long rural, curvy roads with little or no shoulder and in the dark. And I also didn't want to pay for a transmission, either. We were faced with a choice of pay now or later but we would definitely pay. Since he works for an auto body shop at a car dealership we chose to go through them and purchase from one of the many the guy owns. Over the past several years he's worked in different areas of the car industry and we've now purchased our last three cars from his last three employers. He came home two Friday's ago with his pretty, shiny toy filled with more bells and whistles than we've ever had on something with wheels. When he told me that his rear view and side mirrors dimmed and the side mirrors also have their own defrost I officially labeled him "spoiled."
The next day we were at my parents house dropping the kids off to attend a church pizza party with them. Their across the street neighbor and long time friend told my mom that he was now proud of us since we had the pretty new car. Without missing a beat Jay replies. "Be proud of us for the way we raise our sons not for the car I drive." This is why I love that man. For him things are still just things. It's a car. A mode of transportation and nothing more. It doesn't represent something we should be praised for.
A couple days ago I hit the interstate for my lovely morning commute when my phone rang. Jay never calls me that time of the morning. "I had a wreck," he said. Earlier in the morning it had rained. Rain no longer fell but the streets were still wet. He swore he wasn't speeding. He rounded a curve on the rural road he travels when he says he found himself spinning in the middle of road; almost like a hand reached down and spun the car. He never hit the breaks, didn't have any control, and all he could do was watch and anticipate where he would land. The car came to a rest about four feet from a telephone pole after sliding over the curb. The police officer later joked that he did a great parallel parking job. Jay found himself stuck in the mud and unsure of what sort of damage happened under the car. This is where he called me while waiting on the police and tow truck. But he came out unscathed. So, I went onto work and waited to hear what the damage was on the barely week old car.
His company's tow driver came out and pulled the car out of the mud pit. Back at the shop and cleaned they found a few scrapes on the underside of the side and bumpers...and that was it. No need to file an insurance claim. We only had to pay for the tow and the guy who looked the car over and realigned the tires.
I'm considering banning him from driving on wet streets. The last wreck he had (before CJ) happened on wet streets. He hydroplaned into oncoming traffic and was hit head-on. He walked away from that too. The car was totalled and he shouldn't have been able to walk away from that. Someone upstairs was definitely watching out for Jay. So many other variables that if had occurred would change this story entirely but lucky for us he's one lucky man.

Love is Blind

2010-09-06T19:00:00.000-07:00

A couple of months ago CJ fell in love with a giant zucchini. My former boss brought in a whole basket of really large squash and zucchini that she'd grown. I really like zucchini so I picked up one and brought it home eager to cook and eat it. The next morning, Saturday, the boys spotted it on the counter and decided to play with it. They took it into the living room and played with it mixed in with their real toys. Quickly CJ named it Squash and began carrying it around in the crook of his arm, like a baby. He carried it around and talked to it all day long. That evening as I planned my dinner, the included "Squash" I started to gather my ingredients together and went to retrieve the zucchini. Unfortunately when he discovered my plans for "Squash" included cutting it up and cooking it...he freaked. OMG, I hope he never discovers where his beloved chicken nuggets come from...well, for the time being. It would be ridiculous if say by 17 he still didn't know. So, my dinner plans changed. I figured in a day or two he would forget about it. The next obstacle came when he wanted to take "Squash" to bed with him. And, lets face it, I'm not up for that mom of the year award anyway. If it came to a fit or peacefully drifting off to sleep cuddled up to organically grown produce, I didn't see the big deal. But Jay put his foot down and said we couldn't let the kid sleep with vegetables. Fine. "I'm sorry sweetie, daddy says no." Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know parenting 101 the whole united front crap. Well I lay down the law a whole lot more, so let him take the fall for once. So, "Squash" sleeps in the kitchen where he belongs. And a couple days later CJ is still in love with it. So the third night, Jay hides "Squash." And sure enough the next morning CJ looks around for his beloved vegetable but gets side tracked before locating it and memory of it fades. Fast forward to this past Friday. I move the breadbox to clean and what do I find? That's right a shriveled, dusty, gross and no longer impressive zucchini. I cried a little.

Sour Puss

2010-09-01T16:23:00.000-07:00

When I arrived home from the grocery store on Saturday Jay and WC were watching a movie on television. CJ slept soundly on the sofa right where I left him. It surprised me that Jay was allowing WC to watch this particular film because I'd heard that it was not particularly appropriate for children. But the original had been a big hit with the kids. But for some reason they chose to use some rough language in the sequel. In less than five minutes of my arrival I counted two words that I didn't wish for my son to listen to. Jay and I glanced at each other a few looks of hesitance. Then after both S.O.B and B***h were used in the next few minutes Jay turned the channel. He explained to WC that they were using words that little boys shouldn't listen to. WC replied very seriously. "What? I'd never call anyone a sour puss."

On an unrelated note I'm now the mom of a cub scout. WC is now old enough to begin scouts. This child of mine that does not like bugs and has had a fit over tree pollen floating down on him wants to try this. He's given up karate for the time being, my schedule can't accommodate both activities. I'm hoping that it will help with his outdoor fears. We went to sign up on Monday and then Tuesday they had their pack meeting where the boys who earned badges over the summer received them. He and I went so he could see that. And I guess I must have blacked out somewhere along the way because I left there the assistant den leader for WC's den. And I must confess that I have never camped out a day in my life. And call me spoiled but unless there's indoor potty facilities this chick will not be involved. I'm willing to get a tent, supplies and give sleeping outdoors in old woods a shot but I am not doing my business in a hole. WC is absolutely ecstatic that I am going to be the assistant and that makes me happy.

They Grow Up So Fast

2010-08-27T16:19:00.000-07:00

It seems that life has hit light speed since I had kids. I'm not sure what is it about having children throws the time space continuum out of whack but every parent will tell you that life progressed slower until the day their first child entered the world. It is a moment that changes everything. Expectations form, plans are made and goals are set. You worry about everything from feeding, sleeping, diapers to crawling, walking, putting everything in their mouths and teething. Accidents and that first illness can throw you for a loop.The next day its preschool and then kindergarten. You worry about them making friends and can they act right...what do they say when you're not around (a particularly troubling worry for me)? Are they well-liked? Then as time passes you worry about those coming teenage years, puberty and beginning interest in the opposite sex.
My first grader arrived home the other night with a girls phone number folded on a little piece of paper in the pocket of his shorts. Seriously, a girls phone number? A little girl in his class (another 6 year old) told him that she liked him and she wanted him to give her a call on the phone! He was a bit mystified about the incident. And I am not happy. Sure, he's cute but what six year old girl passes out her phone number? I didn't have the balls to hand out my number unsolicited even in college.
Here I was thinking I didn't have to worry about girls until he was older. And then I thought it would be him I'd have to worry trying to take advantage of girls. That I would need to try and drill it in his thick hormone driven skull to leave the girls alone. He hasn't asked to call her. I'm not sure that I'd let him. Her parents might feel the same way that I do.
I told my friend, Mooney, about it. He got all 'way to go boy' over it then I posed it to him differently. His daughter is a year ahead of WC. How would you feel if Nan gave her number to some boy? The laughter stopped. "Well, I wouldn't like it," he replied. He thought for a minute. "Not much I could do about it...but I wouldn't like it." Exactly my point. There's plenty of time for dealing with the opposite sex. No need to start so young. Why are these kids in such a hurry to grow up?
I want my sons to be innocent children for as long as possible. But in today's world that's a tough order to fill.

Control Freak?

2010-08-24T16:37:00.000-07:00

Signs of a control freak:

1. Complain that the the homework help at your child's after school care is severely lacking.
2. The site director personally helps your child.
3. Still not happy because you only get to check over it and make sure it's correct.

Hi, I'm Terri and I just discovered that I'm a control freak. I did not know this about myself...okay so maybe I had a small inkling up til now. Sure, I didn't want anyone else to help in caring for my baby. 'I don't care that I haven't slept in three days put the baby down and step slowly away from the bottle.' My mom had to pry him from my arms and make me leave my first day back to work. But all moms working outside the home go through that. I'm not controlling in every aspect only when it comes to my kids and other things that I'm passionate about.
After what happened in kindergarten. My fault, I left way too much of his care in the hands of someone else whom I thought was going over his homework and doing the things he needed for school only to discover that my children were being parked in front of television for hours every afternoon. The disruption to his life surrounding this caregivers sudden departure from his life also resulted in behavioral difficulties in school. Luckily, I wasn't too late to salvage his kindergarten education. Partly because he picks up things so quickly he wasn't that far behind. This incident has left me with a sour taste.
But all working mothers have to relinquish some control over the lives of their children. Whether one works out of choice or necessity...for 4 or 14 hours a day or any combination of shifts. When we are away from our kids we give part of their rearing and education to someone else. Depending on your views this can be good, bad or mute. It's not a one size fits all sort of situation. I've seen many unique situations over the years that work well for all involved. Relinquishing the control does give me some anxiety. However, I feel that I can have good communication with his teacher and stay informed. I check his homework and read over the class work that comes home.

The call of motherhood never takes a day off. I've just been informed that CJ has shoved a ball of cheese up his nose.

My Noisy Little Mirror

2010-08-18T18:19:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting across the table from WC and it's taking all that I have not to reach over and smack him. I've been mislead by his after school programs boasting of homework help. They pretty much sit them in a room and leave them to their own devices. For a first grader who can barely read the homework directions are quite complicated. He cannot do it without someone relaying to him what he needs to do then badgering the living daylights out of him to stay on task. This kid's up for the world title in championship stalling. We had to start out this afternoon with me having to tell him that it wasn't correct. The child has a perfectionist streak five miles wide. At times it paralyzes him from doing things because he knows he can't do it perfectly. It's been a difficult thing to try to get him through with starting school. It's what I'm currently fighting with in his brain as he wipes his eyes and tells me that he isn't crying but that his eyeballs are sweating. No, he's frustrated because he wants to write some big long complicated sentence. He ignores my pleas to keep it simple. Then opts for writing sentences in which all his vocabulary words go "kerpal." I think he's exploding them on paper. But it has still taken him 45 minutes to write 5 simple sentence featuring a three letter vocab word. He finally completes his last sentence and takes off. I'm not going to stop him. I know he thinks what he's done isn't good enough.
I could sit here and pretend that I don't know where this comes from. But I'd be lying. I'm the guilty party of passing this personality on. Part of me thinks that should make me more understanding of him. But it drives me insane. My first semester of college I took a writing class. The first paper I received back looked like a massacre. The paper marred with red ink and it broke my heart. The professor liked my story and I received an A but that's not what I clung to. After that class I hung up writing for a while. Time and maturity have brought me to a place of understanding what constructive criticism looks like. I've taken a couple online writing courses but found the criticism mild and unhelpful. Right now I'm coming face to face with how much I've grown while in the process of editing my manuscript. During writing I mostly concentrated on finishing. So I wrote. I'd worry about the polishing later. Later has arrived and I feel that I'm still back on square one. Years away from anything usable...salable...marketable. I'm struggling with how far to polish and when to let the scene go. I feel the story is solid. But the nagging self-doubt comes whispering whenever I begin to feel too good about things. During the initial writing I had two friends who would read over it. One friend in particular is responsible for talking me down from the self doubt ledge many a time. Any time I thought that it sucked and why was I bothering I could run to her for that pep talk. But I'm at the point to hearing how great the story is doesn't cut it. It's time to push to make it better. And I'm going to have to listen to difficult comments in order to move forward. Here's to finding out how far I've come since that first writing class.

Moving Forward

2010-08-13T16:31:00.000-07:00

The other night I stood in the baby product aisle of the local grocery store. I stared at a bottle of baby wash for several minutes. This simple bottle of baby wash left me dumbfounded. I didn't know whether or not to buy it. The kids needed more soap but they are no longer babies and I don't buy anything else out of this aisle, anymore. It sounds crazy now just thinking about it but that bottle was so much more than soap. I have to come to terms with that I will never have another pregnancy. My pregnancy with CJ was filled with maternal fetal specialists, monthly blood tests and worry. An anomaly in the structure of my blood cells caused my body to view the fetus as a foreign entity caused my body to mount defenses to destroy it. Thanks body. It's a condition that they couldn't predict or do anything about except damage control if necessary...and after the full disclosure of worst case scenario we were pretty much terrified. The fun thing is that it isn't present with pregnancy number 1. Only subsequent. Now I also have a negative blood type and a husband who is positive. So, with WC I had taken my Rogam shots to keep a similar situation from happening due to my negative type and all was supposed to be hunky dory. It wasn't. The antibody doesn't cross the placenta until it reaches a certain level of parts per million. And monthly blood tests were ordered to keep an eye on this. After months of hoping, praying and let's be honest bartering with God we had a healthy baby boy. He was three weeks early but considered full term and without an issue to be found. The specialists advised that with subsequent pregnancies it would be worse that my body's defenses would be stronger against the fetus. We decided not to be greedy. The grace of God allowed us to come through healthy.We decided not to be greedy. The grace of God allowed us to come through healthy. So I opted to count my blessings and undergo a tubal. Why chance it? And I've never looked back or second guessed that it was the right decision for me. But with CJ now out of diapers I find myself missing having a baby. I walk past the baby section in Walmart and it feels odd not needing to stop in. The indecision over whether to buy baby wash brought it all to the surface. Do I want another baby? The more I dwell on it the fact is that I'm not feeling that I want a new baby. I miss my babies. I love the boys - crazy and amazing all in one little package. Watching them grow and develop is something I wouldn't trade. My problem with it is that it all is going by too fast. I need one year to last three or four.But since I like my life with them right now and they've moved on from the baby stage then I should too. I put the baby wash back on the shelf and finished my shopping.

Adventures in PT

2010-08-10T15:42:00.000-07:00

I once read somewhere that potty training a toddler would test the parents patience and be both emotionally and physically draining. But that the experience was twice as hard for the toddler. Think about it, they spend the first one and half to three years (give or take) of their lives doing a basic bodily function one way and no one minds. Suddenly their caregiver expects them to do a 180 and to recognize the signals that we automatically take for granted but they've never thought about. Not only we expect them to recognize these but then take appropriate action. It can be confusing. There are all these theories out there as to the appropriate time to begin the process of teaching a toddler to use the potty. Arguments are abound as to "early" versus "late." And pros and cons of each. Years ago most children potty trained shortly after they could walk. But with the advent of the disposable diaper and working mothers, these days it has been pushed to the average age of three- an little earlier for girls.
WC was three when I was expecting CJ. The thought of two in diapers-even disposable was not appealing. Luckily he was ready. I used the timer method. I took a long weekend, he picked out his new big boy underwear and the diapers were gone with exception of night. Three days later he was fully potty trained.
Fast forward to CJ. This child has been doing things his own way since he surprised us by arriving three weeks early. Silly me set out to potty train him the same way that worked for WC. Now I could make him go sit on the potty when the timer went off but I couldn't make him actually go in the potty. He would sit there and then leave the bathroom and promptly urinate in the kitchen floor. We spent weekend after weekend being frustrated. Downtrodden, I abandoned trying for a few weeks. His daycare provider insisted on using pullups for the convenience. They don't help. Pullups are a diaper. I think I kept my cool in front of him fairly well while wanting to scream. I swore that I didn't think the child would ever potty train. Then the strangest thing happened. One day he declared that diapers were for babies. And was decidedly not a baby. I told him if he didn't want to wear the diapers then he had to pee in the potty. That was all she wrote, except for a couple of timing accidents. He decided he was going to wear underwear and not diapers. This child is going to be my trouble. He can do anything he puts his mind to, then problem will be what he puts his mind to (or doesn't).

Finally Finished!...well sorta

2010-07-30T15:51:00.000-07:00

Four years and 112 thousand words later, I have typed the words "The End" on my novel manuscript. In the days leading up to this I have been ecstatically happy. And I could not wait to get to my lunch break and continue typing. I took merely a minute to bask in the glory of those words. I'm aware that I will not be leaving my beloved characters behind anytime soon. Now comes the revision and editing process. This is a scary process...I've been so wrapped up in getting it all out and now it's time to go in with a hatchet and kill my child. Well, maybe not kill but take it down a couple of inches. Some parts I look forward to cutting because I know it sucks...And now I begin the cutting. I've read numerous works and taken online writing workshops and I hope these things have prepared me to craft the best story that I can.
The title of my work in progress has been All That Remains. I look forward to sharing more about this work while I go through this process.

Where do they come up with this?

2010-07-27T16:38:00.001-07:00

By now nothing my boys do really suprises me. I'm handed stories by
their other caregivers & experience many for myself. Still when I
picked up CJ from daycare I was not prepared to laugh this hard. Ms. C
began by setting the story of them all sitting around the table having
an ordinary time coloring. CJ goes to the potty, he's been wearing
underwear exclusively for over a week after he simply declared he
wouldn't wear baby diapers any more. She turns around to find him
standing there without a stitch on- shoes, socks, everything gone.
"I naked," he declared.
"Put your clothes back on," ms. C tells
him.
"But I naked," he states.
"I can see that but you have to put your clothes on"
"But I naked," he reiterates. Smiling, proud as a peacock.
"You can't be naked out here"
"You sure?"
"Yes, now get in that bathroom & put your clothes on."
"Awwww..."
And she finally wrangles my littlest streaker back into his clothes.

Why oh why can't I keep these children clothed in public?

Sent from my iPod

To Have Been A Fly on the Wall

2010-07-20T16:47:00.000-07:00

When CJ went to the dr for his checkup but had a fever and step they
wouldn't give him a shot that he was due. I needed to bring him back
when the fever was gone. Naturally, during my week off- when this
would have been easy, I forgot. So, I asked my mom to run him back
over to the pediatrician. All they had to do was go in and the nurse
would give it to him, no copay no dr. Simple.
Mom calls me later that afternoon and begins the story with how happy
CJ was to play with the train set: see prior entry for his love of
trains. The nurse steps out calls his name and he hits the floor like
a bag of cement screaming, "I don't want to see the dr." Mom attempts
to coerce him into standing. She lifts him off the floor but he
refuses to put his feet down. He's sprawled in the middle of the
waiting room floor chanting that he doesn't want to see the doctor. My
mom begins to yell back at him "your mother is making me do this."
while trying to drag him across the floor. Eventually unable to gain
compliance she picks him up & carries him into the back alternating
responses to his protests with that his mother was making her & that
if he's good she'll buy him a toy. Back in the exam room she can hear
the women behind the front desk laughing hysterically.
Oh, I wish I could have seen that!
Mom declared that never in her life had she had any trouble taking a
child to the doctor. And not to ask her to do it again. Awww mom...

Sent from my iPod

Mom Makes Plans...God Laughs.

2010-07-14T08:12:00.001-07:00

Friday morning I was all excited. A mere four hours of work, lunch with hubby, a well check up for the three year old and I was on my way to one week of freedom from the 9-5er. Then CJ woke up. Unlike WC & myself, he is a morning person. He hits the ground reving his little engine and he's off.

Except this morning...he laid there like a slug. And I knew...

He left with Jay, as normal and I wondered and worried. When will the call come?

When I arrived at work I called the daycare to let them know I would be there early in the afternoon to take him to the dr. I asked how he was doing because he wasn't himself that morning. And God- love them. The morning girl had noticed the same thing and had taken his temp- 99. He was simply wandering around the room looking lost. They would keep me posted. Poor baby.

On my way down the interstate to meet Jay for lunch, they called. 100.2- still not high enough to warrant a pick up, but they knew he would be leaving at 1:30 anyway. He was napping.

I called the pediatrician to see if they would still see him. They would, except if he was due a shot then I'd have to bring him back.

He was still asleep when I arrived- his security blanket in hand. She woke him up and he crawled into my arms and lay limp on my shoulder.

There are many pros and cons to the doctor office train set. And CJ's love of trains brought them all screaming to the forefront. He didn't want to leave the trains, for him that was why he was there. He asked about them in the car on the drive. He was pissed when it was our turn. If I could have had a dime for every time he told the nurse, 'no', 'stop it', 'don't touch me' or 'I want the train'. I'd be a wealthy woman. She commented on how she'd cut him slack for being challenging because he isn't feeling well. Oh, you poor delusional woman, this child is a challenge when he feels well and pretty damn close to impossible when ill. We never could get his hearing checked- but trust me there's not an issue there. He hears perfectly fine- what he wants to.

He wasn't any easier with the doctor. I was so sick of hearing about the stupid trains by the time she arrived I was ready to jam the tongue depressors into my ears and take out my ear drums.

After the examination she decided that she wanted to swab his throat- it was very red. Assume the position- which is fairly similar to giving a cat a pill except we don't wrap the child in the blanket- but now that I think about it. It's a fairly disturbing scene to the non parent. Hold child in lap, wrap leg around his (to keep him from kicking the dr), one arm wrapped around his waist to secure both of his and one hand on his forehead to hold his head back against my chest. There was my exercise for the day. After the swab she let us return to waiting area and the much heard about train set to wait while the culture developed. CJ now happy. Me very, very worried about the results of the swab. And of course the receptionist announced that we needed to return to our room due to the fact the culture was positive for strep. Are you *&^%$ kidding me! I'm starting my vacation! Strep! ARGH!

Blue screen of death

2010-07-13T16:46:00.000-07:00

Sorry that I haven't posted a story in a while. Last week I was on
vacation from work and had every intention of posting stories of my
adventures home with the kids... But my modem died! No Internet all
week! Finally received the new modem yesterday & during installation
last night the thing crashed the computer giving me the blue screen of
death. So tonight after karate (I'm using their wifi connection) and
after I get the kiddos to bed I'll be attempting battle with the old
computer, praying that I can bring it around long enough to get the
years photos copied to a disk. Then I'll worry about the rest.

Sent from my iPod

6 Words

2010-06-30T10:03:00.001-07:00

"I need to speak with you." Is a statement that when uttered by your child's care provider upon you're arrival in the evening makes even the most seasoned parent shudder. No matter your mood prior to that statement- you exhale loudly, shoulders slump and ask, 'What did he do know?'

The subject of that statement in this instance was WC. Now, he's a pretty good kid and rarely ever gets into trouble. But when the boy does something, he doesn't half-ass it. He goes after being in trouble with the same intensity as being well behaved. It's all or nothing...no middle ground. And his trouble is never fighting or anything malicious. It stems more from the fact he's a free-spirit...I guess that's the way to describe it. CJ's troubles always stem from him believing the world should revolve around him and to hell with anyone who doesn't agree- but then he is three & we're working on it.

So, on this day I arrive to the 6 words spoken by the head camp counsellor and she pulls me off to the side.

My son and some other boys- all 6 yrs old went to the bathroom connected to the gymnasium and as with any gym bathroom there's a shower room. They decided it would be fun to take a shower. So they all strip naked and are running around in the open shower room. I'm unsuccessfully trying not to laugh as she describes discovering a shower room full of wet naked little boys. So they all had to have a talk about private parts and not romping around with the parts God gave you flapping in the breeze.

Both of the boys run around naked all the time at home- after a bath & before pj's they run streaking through the house, squealing with laughter. Nudity isn't anything that I've raised them to be ashamed of. But it never occurred to me that he would do this with total strangers. It was all innocent. I've had multiple discussions with him about his private parts and not allowing anyone to touch them. And he's not to touch anyone else and if someone asks him to then he needs to say no and go tell an adult. I keep that a running discussion that I bring up periodically- usually during the bath time. But now I've also had to tell him that he can't get naked at day camp.

My Dad laughed hysterically when I told my parents what their grandson had done. And his comment was about how smart the boy is. Smart? Smart?

I don't get how organizing the first grade nudist colony can be considered smart?

A Little Crazy

2010-06-23T12:13:00.001-07:00

WC climbed in the car the other evening when I picked him from day camp and half way down the road, out of the blue, he announced:

"I got a bead stuck up my nose today."

Me: "What?!?"

"Oh, don't worry, they got it out."

Me still really confused why a six year old is sticking stuff in his nostrils: "Why?!"

"I got a little crazy today."

I drop the conversation, because, what can I really say to that?

Yesterday he brought it up again.

"You remember when I got a bead stuck up my nose at camp?"

Me: "I recall the story...You know you aren't supposed to stick things in there, right?"

"I was putting this yellow bead in my nose and blowing it out seeing how far I could make it fly across the table. And when I inhaled I sucked it up and the teacher had to use a pen cap and gloves to get it."

Me: "Please tell me this wasn't during lunch."

"Nope...snack."

Sometimes it really is best not to ask for details.

Incidentally the bead that was being used as a nasal projectile was awarded for good behavior. I'm guessing they didn't revoke it because they really didn't want the bead back...I wouldn't.

Sticker Shock

2010-06-07T08:51:00.000-07:00

Taking my kids into Toys R Us is like putting an epileptic chihuahua in front of a strobe light. We generally avoid this at all costs.

Their old metal swing set had become unsafe, so Jay dismantled it Saturday. We decided a while back that we wanted to replace it with one of those nice wooden sets. The kind that neither of us had as a child- I don't recall if those existed back then for home use but if they did, we couldn't afford it anyway. It isn't something that is necessary, obviously, but something we would like to do. We decided to ride out to Toys R Us, Sunday after lunch and see what they had & how much.
The sliding door at the Toys R Us must seem like the gates of heaven when you"re 6 & 3. Immediately they spotted the display of Toy Story themed toys and off they went. After we did our research in the play set department I took the kids over to the book aisle...this would be safe. WC quickly located a Bakugan book he just had to have & CJ a Thomas the Train sticker book. They held their treasures until they located a bin of medium sized rubber balls in tie die colors. Okay, fine $.1.99 each. Then the personalized water bottles. WC really wanted one to take to his summer day camp. Sure, that seemed a reasonable request. Nothing else, we are looking at spending money on a play set. No more. That was fine until they reached the guitars. WC wanted one but understood he would have to wait...CJ had to be threatened with taking him back to the car with nothing.
We check out & the girl tell me the total is $42. I swipe the card & complete the transaction before it hits me. What the hell did we spend $42 on? I scan the receipt still standing at the end of the check out. Thomas the Train the sticker book...$12.99...For a sticker book?! Jay rummages into the bag and says, "Honey, you just bought him 800 stickers!"
O...M...G...

Middle TN Flood Relief

2010-05-07T14:20:00.000-07:00

Please donate to help flood victims in Middle TN: American Red Cross

We are cleaning up. But torrential rains sent rivers 50 feet above flood stage. The water is receding thanks to several days of hot weather. Volunteers are rushing to devastated areas but more will be needed in the weeks and months ahead as those displaced attempt to rebuild their lives. One woman picked up a toothbrush from a aid center this morning and said that she had not been able to brush her teeth in THREE DAYS! Our brothers and sisters in this world are having to start over from scratch. Please donate, if you are at all able. Pray for those who have lost and for those who are helping. Thank you. God Bless.

Flooded Nashville- We are still here

2010-05-05T06:04:00.000-07:00

Text "REDCROSS" to 90999 to donate $10 to the relief effort:

See: Nashville Flooded & Forgotten

We are Nashville

Video shot by Fr. T

The images of my hometown are heart breaking. People here have lost everything. Homes that were in areas that have never flooded, homeowners never given the opportunity to buy flood insurance. It isnt offered in areas that do not flood. And now they have to start over.

Additional Relief Efforts through Salvation Army

Riverfront Park Before & After

Flood of 2010- Middle TN Disaster

2010-05-04T10:07:00.000-07:00

This may be the most insane thing I've ever witnessed. Saturday morning it started to rain and it just did not stop. Right now here in Middle Tennessee there are houses sitting 6-7 feet under water. Our average annual rainfall is around 48 inches. Over the course of 48 hours it rained 19 inches. That's about 38% of our yearly rain. Tiny little creeks that children stomp around in turned into swells of rushing water in minutes. We had a funnel cloud come over our town and gone into hiding in our hall bathroom. CJ in the middle of his afternoon nap was pulled from his peaceful slumber to come sit with the rest of us. He seemed strangely calm, as if this sort of thing happens regularly. WC, on the other hand, in the middle of meltdown mode when the electricity blinked on and off rapidly setting off our security system. Jay rushed out into the house to see if he could stop the siren but couldn't. So there we sat. Thankfully, the electricity went off. When it returned the system made a constant flat line sound, which was almost as annoying. Luckily it all past over and nothing touched down. When we emerged from the bathroom Jay set about trying to shut the alarm system up. The only thing he succeeded in doing was arming it and setting it back off again. WC locked himself in the bathroom. CJ acted as if nothing was happening. I had enough. I took a screw driver into the office, where the main power source for the system is and I pulled the whole thing out of the wall. Quiet had been restored. I'll worry about the rest of it later. It was then, our tv service was back on that we began to see what was going on around us. The interstate that I travel on a daily basis & have travelled for years- a portion of it was under water. Cars were bobbing up and down in the waves. We watched on live tv, a portable classroom from a school- not that close by- came floating down the interstate hit several cars and disintegrated before our very eyes. It had been picked up off it's foundation, floated across the at least the football field, soccer field and I can't recall what else to get there where we watched its demise. If you want to see some videos search Nashville flood on You Tube and take your pick of which devastation to see.

Here is a pile of cars in Antioch, TN. In a very hard hit area.

The Delta at the famous Opryland Hotel is under water. There is fountain in there, somewhere...

The Dairy King, been there as long as I can remember. Mill Creek isn't supposed to be there.

We were extremely fortunate; did not experience any water in our home. Other people around me weren't so lucky. Please lift them up your prayers. Please make contributions to the American Red Cross for the victims of the Nashville Flood. From what I have heard, we have not had much attention in the national media. But this is a huge disaster here in Middle Tennessee. The need is immediate.

My images here on this blog are just a few of what is out there. If interested please search for them. I will try to post some more when available. Thank you.

The Bathroom

2010-04-28T10:27:00.001-07:00

This post is inspired by the blog posting of my friend, Michele. Her little daughter is right on time for that wonderful separation anxiety that all little ones go through at one point or another. While I have over the years found having an audience when I go to the room I considered private in my pre-child days a bit taxing at times- especially during that delicate "woman time". WC, on the other hand, found a whole new usefulness when his little brother gained mobility. He's managed to turn the toilet room into their clubhouse of sorts. They haul toys in there and settle in, sometimes he sends his little brother out for something he's decided he wants to play with. It isn't uncommon for me to hear, "I have to go potty. Come on CJ, grab that Bakugon and come on." I find myself grilling him on whether he's actually still "doing something" or just sitting there.

One afternoon I sat in front of the computer and I heard Tom and Jerry enter the bathroom, didn't think a thing about it. When I came out of the office, I was faced with the scene that is pictured above. They'd gotten into the fridge pulled out the leftover bread sticks and marinara sauce and there they were. WC sitting on the toilet and being the "responsible" one holding the sauce while he & CJ dipped the bread sticks in. This one really icked me out.

13.1 Miles

2010-04-26T10:48:00.001-07:00

Saturday morning, my alarm went off at 3:30. Jay asked what time it was, I told him to go back to sleep, which without argument he promptly rolled over & complied. I hit the floor, belly full of butterflies. Kept telling myself that I had to eat, even though I would rather vomit. But knowing what my body would have to do in a few hours I forced down my Kashi cereal, keeping with my friend's advice to change NOTHING about what I ate pre-race. Left my hubby and boys sleeping soundly. Getting on the interstate in the pitch dark of night, lighting bolts streaked the sky in the distance. I said a prayer that the weather would hold off. It was forecasted to be nasty. The race organizers had already limited the marathon to 4.30. If you weren't on pace to complete it in that time you'd be directed to finish the half. Into downtown Nashville I went and parked in the first lot of LP Field I came across. Wandering across the parking lot to locate where the shuttle bus would take the runners over to the start line at Centennial Park, I met a nice woman from Denver, CO. She travels around to the different cities to run in the marathons. I arrived at the park at what would be 2 1/2 hours prior to my start time, which worked out for my benefit. One because I had a nice dry seat at a picnic table under a tree where we didn't get wet when the rain shower hit at 5:30. I met a woman who also works for the same company and several out of town people and we had a wonderful, fun conversation. It all put me at ease and took away almost all the nerves. The rain shower let up, the clouds floated away and the sun came up on a beautiful morning. We knew more was on the way when they announced the race would be starting 15 min early (another plus at being there so early) some of those arriving later, missed starting with their gate number- including my marathon veteran friend who didnt arrive until 10 min after the early start-five min before the original start. What has proven to be a controversy after the 37th corral was released the pulled up the mats that record your start time, so people arriving after that couldn't compete at all. The city is very hilly and you might not notice it as much in a car but out there hoofing it on foot- OMG. I started out well and felt good for most of it. I walked- a lot. A fast pace walk but I couldn't run up all those hills, especially at the beginning. Around mile ten, when I had to go up another hill at the State Capitol, I lost the will to live. My goal was just to keep moving. The crowds cheering on side of road began to annoy me. "Looking good runners, keep going, you're almost there, woo hoo!" Just shut the hell up. It was at that point also, where I began to notice the wind picking up and the sky darkening. At 1.8 miles to go I began to hear announcements telling runners they recommended leaving the course and seek immediate shelter due to inclement weather. At 1.8 miles to go? Hell, no. They were going to have to drag me kicking and screaming by force off of that course. I had not come that far and trained that much to stop there. If a tornado touches down somewhere in the vicinity, I'll consider it. I'd been walking for the past mile and decided I had to pick up and finish quickly and hope they wouldn't force me off the course. I began to run with everything I had. My hip and knee hurt. I was exhausted. The sky opened up and the rain came down, lightly at first then harder, drenching us. I couldn't see once my glasses go so wet. So I just stayed course and followed along. Cross the Woodland Street Bridge people on the sidelines yelling that the finish line was around the corner and down the hill. I rounded the corner and didn't see anything. Where the hell is it?!? They said it was right here? Less than a mile from the finish line and I still can't see it! Please, God, I'm begging you.

It was the longest mile of my life. Finally I turned another corner and through my water covered glasses- there it was. A beacon of hope. An oasis. The angels sang the Hallelujah chorus. It was beautiful. Praise God- just keep me moving til I get there.

I made it. My time: 3:00:38. I was drenched and cold but I made it 13.1 miles. I had not run a single step before January. And I completed a half marathon. I picked up my metal from the people who were throwing them at us. I'm sure they were just in a hurry with the threat of inclement weather but dang. I wandered aimlessly through the athlete area seeing what sort of post race food they had to offer- nothing was really striking my fancy until I saw these snicker protein bar sort of things. I wanted nothing more to locate the gear check area so I could retrieve my stuff and get my cell phone to let everyone know. Jay had the kids and I told him with how many people would be down there & threat of bad weather to not bring them down there. There I was a little bummed slowing limping through the family reunion area to get to my stuff, I mean I just did this accomplishment for the first time ever and no one is there to share it with. I didn't think it would bother me until that point. Then I see a man, holding an umbrella standing next to the path- it was Jay! He was there. He'd taken the kids to his parents house, from there he used their computer to track my progress and when I neared the end, he drove down there to meet me. He tried to see me cross the finish line but wasn't able to. But he did the next best thing for me- used his shirt to dry off my glasses! I was a happy woman. Back at my in-laws house I showed WC my metal. He asked me if everyone got one of those. I told him only people who ran it in 4 hours. I did it in 3. He seemed impressed. He asked to wear it. Then a little while later he asked me if I wanted it back. He's seen me working out on the treadmill and I hope he takes a lesson from it. If you want to do something, just put your mind to it and work as hard as you can. You can accomplish it.

While I was able to complete my goal, I feel sorry for many marathoners who were not able to. It seems that they were pulled from the course before many of us half marathon runners were done, even if they were on pace to complete it in 4:30. Many people who were attempting to qualify for Boston didn't get to finish. Many people who were pulled at mile 20 were recorded as having ran 13.1. Loads of people are unhappy. I understand organizers not wanting a disaster on their watch. But I think they did jump the gun a bit.

Nerves

2010-04-23T11:18:00.001-07:00

I can't believe it's already here. Tomorrow morning. The day I've been training for since January. My first half marathon. And I'm ready for it to be over and done with. To not feel like I absolutely have to run x amount of miles on a Saturday or Sunday to train. My 10 miler last week about killed me. I suspect that I've injured my IT Band. I've rested and stretched it for a week. Hopefully, I can get through the race w/o excruciating pain in my hip. Could it get any worse? Oh and it's supposed to rain...not just rain...storm like a *%$#! Hasn't rained all of April. Really, God? Really? Right now they are projecting the worst of it to be in the afternoon. Could have tornado's. Which make me really nervous. A tornado hit downtown Nash years ago and I'm not eager to repeat it. A tornado hit less than 5 miles from my home on Mothers Day a couple of years ago...I drove past those destroyed buildings for a year before most were either re-built or done away with. I do not like the weather forecast for those reasons too.

I hope I can sleep tonight. This morning I woke up and instantly thought OMG! It's tomorrow. Not just tomorrow, I have to be in downtown before dawn...on a Sat... possibly in the rain. What Am I Doing?!?!

The Drought Has Ended

2010-04-14T06:06:00.001-07:00

For the past several weeks I have had writer's block. I've come down to the last portion of my novel and lost my way from the middle leading up to the ending. I know how it ends. But how do I get there? With the multitude of different stresses in my life coming from everywhere, when I sat down for lunch- my brief 30 minute writing window, nothing would come. So I spent some time avoiding the situation. Then on the advice of a friend I wrote part of the ending that I knew. It didn't have to be in order, just put something down on paper (the screen). He also challenged me that I was afraid to end the novel. But reassured me that with revision, I was far from done. I don't really believe that I am afraid to finish it. Maybe for a minute. But I'm ready. And I'm back! It's flowing again! I left work Monday, so elated. Some how I was whole again. I've been using every chance I get here to work more on the story- hence my lack of blogging about the kids. But rest assure they are still nuts. I will have more coming up. I still have quite a bit more to go through before I can say I'm done with my rough draft but the light is at the end of the tunnel.

What "They" Say

2010-04-09T10:51:00.001-07:00

When WC was an infant, people used to tell me about how much better it is when the child is older and can tell you what is wrong. The guesswork of soothing a sobbing infant will be a thing of the past. HAHAHAHAHAHA. And Bill Cosby even said that the only time a child tells the truth is when he is in pain. That might be true of older children. There's nothing quite like attempting to figure out what is wrong with a sobbing six year old who suddenly has the communication skills of that infant and can do nothing but cry. It's more frustrating than the infant because in your parental head you keep thinking, But you talk constantly! Why the hell are you just sitting there crying? But, of course you don't say that to the child. You keep your voice low and try to remain calm while you engage in a game a charades to attempt to locate the issue that you as a parent have to fix in order to restore happiness. Tuesday afternoon WC had fallen asleep on the sofa after watching one of his favorite shows. I didn't think anything about it. I could tell he didn't feel well and struggling with his asthma all day, he was wiped out. He needed to rest. It wasn't until he sat up sobbing an hour later that I regretted this.

My mom had just brought CJ home, who was immediately distressed at hearing the sounds of his brother wailing. He began to cry. My mom, being kind enough not to run away and leave me alone with them in this state even though she wanted to, sat down with CJ. So I could continue to attempt to decipher the ancient code of uncontrollable sobbing. My first thought was that his chest was tight & he needed another treatment or a shower? No. Are you in pain? No response. I took his temp. Normal. I'm running out of possibilities and was ready to pantomime hanging myself when he squeaked out the word, "head." Head? Does your head hurt? "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesssss." he sobbed. I was excited. Now that I can fix. I give him a dose of ibuprofen to which he acts like I'm forcing him to drink a gallon jug of sulphuric acid. Then I do the only other thing that I can think to do to comfort him while we wait for the medicine to work. I sit down and pull his lanky self into my lap, tucking in arms and legs. I'm not very tall and he comes up to my shoulders while standing, so this is not as easy as it used to be. He curls up and drifts off back to sleep and after a while moves so that his legs extend onto the couch but his head is resting against my chest. That I must admit that I sort of enjoyed that. After about half hour he begins to wake up and roll off my lap. He puts his feet on his Nana and begins to talk with her like nothing had been wrong.

Stay tuned for my next entry discussing our second day of school from home.

30 Miles For Nothing

2010-04-06T10:33:00.000-07:00

This morning started out business as usual. Me constantly nagging WC to stop talking to CJ and get ready, brush his teeth so he can get a breathing treatment before breakfast. It's a real issue trying to fit something else in, mornings are hectic enough.
I mentioned in my last entry that WC's asthma cough returned
Sunday evening. If I had any sense I would have started him on his
seasonal allergy medication two weeks ago & possibly avoided this. He
only reacts when his allergies act up. Luckily the severity of
symptoms have diminished over the years. We spent his second year of
life carting him back & forth to the ER for chest x-rays.
This morning he was coughing pretty bad & had his nebulizer treatment
& I dropped him off at school. I wasn't half way to moms house to drop
off CJ when the cell phone rang & the school nurse informed me that WC was coughing up phlegm. I told her to give him a few minutes and see how he does. I hoped that he'd be able to go on to class once he'd gotten it out. Then when I was almost to mom's the phone rang again; this time the assistant principal told me that he hadn't quit coughing and was now throwing up. I told her that I'd just gotten into Nashville and had one kid left to drop off then I'd come back. I drop CJ off and let mom know that I had to go back for WC. She agreed to bring CJ back home after his afternoon nap for me. So here we go again. It hasn't been that long ago when I had to go back for CJ twice- once less than 30 min after punching in for the day and the second time upon reaching the door to the office.
I get to the nurses office and go in. She has an oxygen monitor hooked to his finger-even though she said his lungs sounded clear when she listened to his chest. His oxygen saturation was 97%. Of course his pediatrician had told me those portable oxygen monitors are pretty much useless for kids- so unreliable that they don't even have one in her office. The nurse and I had a couple of run-ins at the beginning of the school year. She's too quick to assume the worst and appears far more worried than need be. But I guess when you have the responsibility of caring for 900 kids and one slip up could get you sued to within an inch of your life...you have to be.
She had him sucking on a peppermint candy. A glass of water would have better. But whatever. The cough was pretty much constant. He really would have been a disturbance for the whole class. The constant bark begins to grate on the nerves. So home we went. Now I really need to finish up the laundry and clean the house but...
Since I have all those worksheets and pretty much studied the kindergarten curriculum, I decided to do it myself today. No point in letting him veg out in front of the tv all day & his brain turn to mush. He wasn't sick. And I've never taught him to let his asthma stop him. This is his normal and he has to live with it and thrive. Much to his dismay- we've been working. The "geography" lesson pretty much fell into my lap. Right before we started and tv was still on- the news ran a story of the coal miners who were killed in West Virginia and the president was going to speak about it. WC wanted to know what that was about, so I explained a bit of coal mining and it was in West Virginia. He wanted to know where WV was in relation to us here in TN and then in relation to PA, where Michele & Peter are. And where the president is. So, I pull out the atlas & show him close to where we are in TN then where WV, PA & DC are. Then we went over some color words, the sense of touch, built paper pizza's and put designated number of pepperonis on each, basic addition (numbers that add up to ten) & word recognition. The paper pizza project led us to ordering pizza for lunch. After lunch he wanted to ride his bike. It was twelve thirty and I wasn't sold that it was a good idea but I thought if he gets out there and can't then he wont. And I was right. The driveway was in full sun and he decided he didn't want to after all. So we sat outside for a bit and discussed bugs. I had to break it to him that bugs don't feel emotions like people. Back inside we went over the vocabulary words from two phonics readers and he read me the story and we went over the discussion questions in the teachers guide. He did well. Then he asked if he could watch an episode of his favorite cartoon. This time I said yes. He's in there hooked up to the nebulizer and I'm going to have to go release him...
So once I wrap up this entry I will be off to clean the kitchen. It's genuinely amazing to me that I go one weekend where I'm picking up constantly and the entire house is such a wreck. I'm not sure where all the stuff comes from.
My allergies are acting up too. I woke up with a sore throat and didn't get my exercise in. I'm sure that half an order of bread sticks for lunch was a real good idea.

Rest In Peace, Chocolate Rabits.

2010-04-05T13:55:00.001-07:00

Last night my home looked like the Easter Bunny's house exploded all over my kitchen/living area- bits of plastic eggs, cheap toys and bits candy. A sick cat behind the recliner. WC was vibrating and his asthma began acting up from the two days outside exposed to the blooming plants of spring. I had to give him his nebulizer which is putting two stimulant medications on top. I thought he might actually launch himself into space for a while. CJ passed out in a sugar coma in the car had to be carried in; he crashed on the sofa & resembled a walking fly trap. Their little pores began oozing sugar a couple hours before and not because I think they're sweet. I left him on couch from about 4:45 until 7:30 when I changed him into his pj's right there. The bottom half was a cinch- he didn't even stir. The trick was getting his sweater vest off over his head. Which he did stir and fuss briefly but with Jay's assistance we had the pj shirt on in a matter of seconds and I carried him back to his bed where he slept soundlessly until 6 this morning. It had been an long, exciting weekend for him. Between eggs hunts, church and family gatherings and more candy heaped on any two children than should be allowed by law (by other people). I sent a grocery bag full with Jay to work today- they leave a candy bucket out for customers. The "Bunny" that visits our home leaves very little candy and a few other treats- Nerf football and some art supplies. We discuss the religious reason for Easter, which has nothing to do with sugar coated sugar. I'm afraid this year I wasn't as successful in keeping the real reason in the foreground. In all the go-go-go and melted chocolate bunnies I may have gotten lost and not just in the heaping mountain of laundry that I had to do last night. I don't recall ever having a more chaotic Easter my whole life, it was non-stop.

I managed to kill three chocolate bunnies. I went shopping for their Bunny gifts a few weeks back and left the items in the car. Then it hit 70 degrees here and for some reason it never dawned on me. Until Saturday evening. I open the trunk and the two small hollow chocolate bunnies look like a Picasso painting. The little eyes and face smeared across cellophane. Not pretty. So, I was on the way to the grocery and picked up a couple more small .99 cent hollow bunnies. Sunday morning before we went to church they managed to split one of them. The second remained on the kitchen table- in front of our west-facing back door and window. When we arrived home last night- it was nothing but a puddle of chocolate with floating candy eyes in the bottom of the box. Jay decided to pour the chocolate into one of the plastic eggs & put in the fridge. I'll see tonight how that turned out.

You Know You're Mom When...

2010-04-05T07:00:00.001-07:00

You decide to write your husband a love note and stick in his lunch but the only writing utensil you can locate is a crayon.

Happy Easter

2010-04-04T06:34:00.000-07:00

Hallelujah! The Lord is risen! Praise be to God.
Sitting here this morning thinking about this beautiful mystery & it
brings me to tears. On an intellectual level it is something I can't
comprehend. On an emotional level it touches me deeply. Looking
forward to celebrating in church later this morning!
I pray that each of you are blessed today & feel the presence of God
move you.

Sent from my iPod

Good Friday

2010-04-02T15:08:00.001-07:00

I'm exhausted. Though not quite as much as my precious CJ- he's passed
out on the couch. I took the day off and spent it with my boys. The
schools were out today & his usual after care program is a Christian
organization & they were closed. Could have taken him to moms & went
to work. But it was just one of those times when taking the vacation
day seemed worth it. I couldn't recall the last time I'd spent a
simple day of fun w/ them. So that's what we've done today. This
morning I packed us lunches & we set off for the Discovery Center. We
spent the day exploring, playing, creating art, digging for fossils,
ate a picnic lunch...5 hours of nothing but fun w/ a sly bit of
education thrown in. Now that I've sat down in the recliner, I'm not
sure that I'll be able to move.
Yesterday when I picked up WC the Director asked me if CJ would be
starting kindergarten this fall. It shocked me for a second...um no.
My CJ? kindergarten? It took me a second. He'll be three in May. I
replied. She looked stunned. He's so big.
I don't think he's that big. He does seem older than he is. But still,
let's not age the kid any faster. It goes so fast as is.

Sent from my iPod

Mommy Stamp

2010-03-31T07:23:00.001-07:00

How to spot a mommy.

CJ stuck this on my hand this morning when I buckled him into his carseat to go to daycare. And I just couldn't take it off. So, I wore it to work today.

Office Cake

2010-03-30T16:44:00.001-07:00

This I dread. Cake...specifically birthday cake...the icing on the
cake to be precise. I can't stand it. Which I realize is very hard for
some to understand. My new boss is a huge fan of it. In fact she
brings one in once a month along w/ donuts & cupcakes on various other
days of the week. She simply doesn't get it. The first cake she
brought in January & I attempted to politely decline a slice. Soon I
discovered what an serious office social faux pas I made. Seriously? I
could have cared less about whether they ate cake or not. I don't
judge. I have my own vices. But the judgement on me was swift and
harsh. I was asked if I were on a diet (in a mocking tone) and called
"skinny Minnie." Why is that okay? Do these people know that as an
adult Ive lost 40 pounds? That I've struggled my whole life w/ weight
& body image? That I was an overweight child? I lost my weight as a
teen by starving myself? No. They don't know that I shot my
metabolism. Or that I'm trying my damndest to simply eat healthy @
remove refined foods from my diet as much as possible. That I'm simply
trying to live healthy. If I liked cake then I might occasionally
indulge but if I don't like the taste, so why eat it?
That day I noticed my friend Ned. He'd taken a slice & sat there
quietly poked it w/ his fork to move it around his plate. Then on the
way out he disgarded it in the trash can. Back at our desks I
commented on his sly move. He smiled and leaned over to me, "it's all
about their own guilt. It has little if anything to do w/ you. People
feel better when they all participate in eating junk as a group. If
you refuse you point out that they too could make a better choice."
I hate to waste and don't want to take something I'm only going to
toss. But that's what I've started doing. And you know what? Everyone
makes a big deal if you don't take a piece but no one notices if you
sit there w/ a full slice of cake that you toss in the trash on the
way out.

Sent from my iPod

Their Idea of Quiet

2010-03-30T07:53:00.001-07:00

Last night, the boys were freshly washed and running through the house in their little pj's. I was trying to scarf down a slice of deep dish pizza (which I find gross-who needs three inches worth of crust a scant amount of sauce and topping that costs them 3 gazillion calories- but this was not my idea). before I read them their bedtime stories. The race track was down the hall through the living area, into the kitchen, circle the table and back again. Over and over. I gave them a project to slice up their own banana's and eat the chunks. Basically it was a short pit-stop. It took them like five minutes to each eat a whole banana and split another. CJ started to cough. Then Jay spoke up. "Boys sit down and find something quiet to do."

Their idea of quiet was to get the Nerf gun, load the magazine with foam darts, sit at one end of the kitchen and rapid fire them across the room. BOYS.

Purge

2010-03-22T07:11:00.001-07:00

Saturday morning, I woke up and knew...it was time. The boys closet had become a massive mound of boxes and old toys piled a couple feet deep. And the vast majority of it outgrown. It was time to purge the baby stuff. The closet had become a hazard- WC had to resort to standing on top of a pile of toys to reach his pants. They would go recreational mountain climbing in there and inevitably, one of them would get stuck. Around here it may as well have been an engraved invitation addressed to any brown recluse spider in a 30 mile radius. The closet would have qualified for that show called Hoarders.

Armed with a mug of coffee and trash bag- in I went. Started in the front and began sorting- stray puzzle pieces in one pile, orphaned shoes, socks (never have I stored socks in the closet), crayons, Lego's, action figures. Then I went through the boxes of clothes- anything too small for CJ was going to charity. I found the first pair of shoes that both boys wore- Stride Rites- brown suede leather, very cute. We had a very difficult time finding shoes for WC- his foot was so wide & thick from top to bottom. Going to Stride Rite store gave me an anxiety attack- How much for such a small pair of frickin' shoes? But both boys wore them- and they are still very good looking shoes and the bottoms were still perfect. They were definitely quality shoes. They sat on the outside of the donation boxes for some time. I went back and forth on whether or not to part with them. The only reason to keep them were my emotions but what would that do? Where would I put them? And what really would be the point? At some point in time they will decay. They are stuff. On the other hand, they are really nice shoes that could bless someone who doesn't have the funds to buy shoes for their baby. In the box they went. And all the clothes that both of them wore. I cleaned out. I wish I had a before and after photo of the closet. It felt great removing it all from the house. The only thing left will be the baby bed (that's currently a daybed for CJ) this summer.

I made a comment to Jay that we were getting rid of all the baby things. "That's kind of sad," he replied.

"I really would have thought so too, but I'm okay with it. I'm really excited to see what amazing little boys our babies are turning into. I am looking forward to these next stages."

In my heart, I feel we are complete right now. Biologically, I can't have any more babies. At one point when CJ was a newborn, my sister became pregnant and I thought I'd be raising another child very close in age to CJ. The child didn't live (I wonder what it would have been like- I would have two, two year olds right now). My mom thought I was crazy but I felt up for it. If I begin to feel called to bring another life into our clan, we'll adopt. A girl. But at this stage I feel we are complete and it's time to move the old stuff out and get ready for what's next.

A couple weeks back, I cleaned out the linen closet- so we had a ton of things to go. Ended up being two car loads. Jay took the first load and picked up lunch. After lunch, I drove the second load to the drop location. In my load- there was the high chair. It was used for both kids. I took it out of the kitchen a couple weeks back. I've been okay with it missing.

When I pulled out of the parking lot, I could see it sitting in the back of the truck and I drove past leaving it- and all the other boxes behind. Tears came to my eyes. I'm done with the baby thing. I spent a long time prepping/hoping/praying for the babies. In a blink it's done. It isn't that I drove away wishing for a new baby. I drove away missing CJ when he was a baby- that period of my life. I turned thirty all round and filled with new life. He came into this world and I felt I came into my own. I became a better mother. I loved every minute of his infancy. And it will never be back. Don't get me wrong- I love my little guy now too. It was a bittersweet moment getting rid of the stuff. I'm glad I did.

Big Dreams

2010-03-18T06:47:00.001-07:00

Tuesday night on the way home from karate class WC began asking questions about how long he would have to take karate. "Don't you want to get your next belt?" I ask.

"Yes," he replied. "But when I am finished with my belts, will I have to do it everyday?"

Now from what I can tell, even though the black belt is the highest there seems to be an endless amount of "degrees" of the black belt. Not sure that one is ever really "done." But I'm not going into that. I tell him that only if he wants to be a karate teacher.

"No, I don't want to be a karate teacher. I'm going to be a doctor."

This isn't his first mention of becoming a doctor. He's been saying it since he was four. But I just figured since at that point in his life he'd seen so many doctors and made so many trips to Vanderbilt for chest x-rays that he didn't realize other professions existed.

"I thought for a little bit," he continued. "About working where daddy works, but I decided against it. I want to be a doctor because I like helping people."

"That's a good thing to want to become," I told him. "Becoming a doctor take a lot of hard work. You have to work really hard in school." Hey, I might as well play that up, right? I am not going to discourage him, though I want him to realize nothing comes easy.

"Mommy, will you help me become a doctor?"

"If you want to become a doctor, I will do everything that I can to help."

Yes, I know the odds of his changing his mind, several times over, are astronomical. When I was his age, I wanted to be a teacher (interesting that as a girl child in the early 80's, my dream was a teacher). Then I wanted to be a journalist and a news anchor. I became neither...well technically I'm not paid to be a teacher.

Yesterday, I located another website that contains great free printable worksheets for at least through the elementary levels- I only looked at preschool and kindergarten. http://www.tlsbooks.com/preschoolworksheets.htm offers excellent sheets about every secular, educational topic. It's totally free they request a $1 donation but it isn't required- however totally worth it. I found some great things to go along with my homemade worksheets (I'm using to gear the tutoring to the specific high-frequency words tested in his class). My goal is combine several skills in one worksheet to knock it out. For example using number word, color word and a high frequency word in the same worksheet. I plan on using our sessions as a guide to plan the next one- repeating the words or concepts he doesn't know until he does. I'm going to mix those with different crafts and coloring. Found some great ideas on using The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle book and creating different activities for reading, math & science. My goal is to do a "caterpillar day" one day this summer.

If anyone else has any great ideas or good free websites for enrichment activities for the preschool & K levels please feel free to leave a comment. I'm looking for fun and interesting ways to bring these concepts to the kiddos.

Last night we sat down for our first official tutoring session- which I told him we were playing a new "game." And the first thing I gave him was a St. Paddy's Day themed coloring activity to color say the second shamrock and draw a rectangle around the 4th. There were about five lines of different themed pictures and he got into it. I was scared that he'd balk at my worksheets. But he played along, even with my homemade ones. I only had to pull out the inner motivational speaker once. There was the distraction of CJ, so I had to issue several reminders to keep writing his words. Although I found out that 3 worksheets was the limit...good to know for tonight. I can design our sessions around that limit in mind. I salvaged the meltdown by drawing a smiling bear face on the last completed sheet telling he did such a good job that he gets a smiling bear. He thought that was so cool and set about learning how to draw my smiling bear and the smiling faces that I drew on his other sheets. He was laughing and smiling. Ending the session on a positive note...YAY.

Last week, we had 5 days of behaving well and school- completing his seat work instead of staring off into space. And so far this week we are 3 for 3! Progress!

I'm Done...

2010-03-16T10:58:00.000-07:00

This is an official announcement. I am finished with my pity-party. That's it. On drive in this morning, it occurred to me that being stressed and feeling sorry for myself does not help me at all. It will not solve anything nor will it make the my life or the lives of my children better. Neither will alcohol or food. None of that would improve my ability to be a mother. And let's face it, the kids deserve the best and I can't give it to them down in the dumps. I recalled the Serenity Prayer:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

So, I can't do anything about the changes that my employer made to my job. For the time being I have to accept this. I can most certainly begin to keep my eyes open for something closer to my home. In this economy I'm not going to bet on it. And even if I do, I would have to keep the benefits in mind: insurance & time off. Those things are very important with children. I'm currently carrying it all for the family. My husbands job offers neither affordable insurance or paid time off (this year he did get 5 days which we horde the final 3 for all their worth). So, when the kids get sick it's all on me to take care of in order for his paycheck not to be docked. So, I can keep an eye out for something else- for him too. My fantasy is that he gets a great job with benefits and I can hop scotch my happy ass out of here. But I digress...

What I can also change right now...and have already started is getting WC back on track with his school work. The first order of business was to shut the tv off on week nights. That's right, the tv does not come on when we walk in the house. We simply don't have time. There's enough to do. He's spent the past two and half hours in after-school care-playing. It isn't like it's just work-work-work. We're working on spelling words and writing. Last night he completed his homework that's due on Friday. Yep, no waiting to the last minute, let's get it over with. I've been online researching extra enrichment activities and worksheets that include things he needs to work on. I've printed off a number of free worksheets from http://www.brobstsystems.com/kids/

Tonight on our drive to karate we will work on verbally spelling words. I ordered some phonics readers, a teachers set actually, that came highly recommended when the BOB books are a little too simple. And I ordered the first set of BOB books (bobbooks.com) for CJ. CJ sits at the table when WC does his homework & he has to have pencils and paper too. So, I'm going to work with him too- finding level appropriate things for him. With CJ's ability I think I can have him reading about on the same level as WC in a few months, if I worked on it. The problem is the time. But I am determined to make it work.

Random Cell Phone Photo

2010-03-16T06:44:00.001-07:00

He already controls the minds of toddlers everywhere. What's next, Elmo? What's next?