Late Saturday evening WC burst through the backdoor into the kitchen screaming, “The Bible’s real, the Bible’s real.”
I turn from my dinner preparation and find him panting. When he catches his breath he continues. “I was outside with my car (holds up a green matchbook style automobile) and I dropped in the grass; couldn’t find it anywhere. So I prayed as hard as I could; asked God to let me find my car. And when I opened my eyes- there is was!” Then he begins another frantic run in a circle screaming. “God’s real.” Then heads back across the kitchen and out the backdoor screaming. “God’s real. Praying is fun.” The door slams behind him. From what I could gather from the sounds of the yelling, he and his little brother were running across the back yard screaming/chanting- “God’s real. Praying is fun.”
I find my husband on the couch, laughing hysterically. He finally says, “Do you think they know you blog about them?”
“They do appear to just hand me things me write about.”
At some point, probably soon, we will have to have the discussion with him that just because you pray, God doesn’t always just drop your request at your feet.
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Monday, April 9, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Joy in Chaos
I sat slumped on the couch, the day mostly done. Up before the sun, a morning routine flown through- the rush to get everyone where they spend their day. Then the full day at my desk and the rush to retrieve everyone and get back home only to pack in the afternoon requirements- homework, dinner and bedtime routine. They need to get in bed, so they can get enough rest to start the whole thing all over again before the sun comes up.
On this particular afternoon, I had a sinus headache. Thank you Spring for arriving in February. The boys were covered in nectarine juice and running laps around the table. Their hysterical giggles let me know this was some sort of game that I wasn’t privy to the object of. CJ had asked me if he could try a nectarine, so I’d bought one per kid. They’d enjoyed them for their after dinner snack. He’d rubbed it in his hair, even though he hates having it washed.
While they wore an indention in my kitchen floor in the shape of their race track around the table, I wondered what people who didn’t have kids did after work. There are people who could lay down with their sinus headache and not have to worry about nectarine in a kid’s hair.
I began to wonder, if I would ever have a quiet house again.
Then I thought back to the weeks after we first brought WC home from the hospital. I didn’t have a clue. This child ate every two hours on the dot. It could take an hour just to feed him, change him and get him back to sleep. Then I’d have an hour before we had to do it again. 24 hours a day, seven days a week. And that meant I’d only get to sleep in 1 hour increments, even at night. And that included the time it took to fall asleep. Now both Jay and my mom would help, but the sleep deprivation hit.
At one point in time, I believed that I’d never sleep again. This would be my life and questioned why I signed up for such misery.
Some of the misery, I brought on myself. We’d known people who had a child that wouldn’t sleep in their own bed. The child was at that time, 4 years old, and it was causing problems. The child had been allowed to sleep with the parents from birth. I naively believed we’d nip that in the bud by never allowing it to happen in the first place. I’ve since altered my view on it slightly- namely the birth of CJ while having a 3 yr old WC who still needed tending regardless of how much sleep I’d had.
Six weeks into the life of WC, I was severely sleep-deprived and miserable. My mom offered to watch him overnight. She told me to pack his stuff and let him sleep over there. She had a crib- because she would be watching him when I returned to work. She didn’t have to work too hard at convincing me.
I dropped him off and went straight back home, showered and went to bed. It was the best 12 twelve hours of solid sleep I’d ever had up to that point in life. When I woke up, I immediately wanted to go get him. I even refused to wait on Jay to get ready to go with me.
Over the next few weeks, WC slowly added length of time between feedings. And the sleep deprivation faded into a distant memory.
In hindsight, it was only a few weeks. At the time it was happening, I couldn’t imagine that it would ever get better. It wasn’t forever, just a small blip on the radar of my life.
I watched my kids running circles around the table and screaming with laughter. And this too is just a small blip on the radar. One that’s going to fade too quickly. I watch them for a while and treasure the moment. Soon it will be time to stop them and go run a tub of water.
This is my joy in the midst of the chaos.
On this particular afternoon, I had a sinus headache. Thank you Spring for arriving in February. The boys were covered in nectarine juice and running laps around the table. Their hysterical giggles let me know this was some sort of game that I wasn’t privy to the object of. CJ had asked me if he could try a nectarine, so I’d bought one per kid. They’d enjoyed them for their after dinner snack. He’d rubbed it in his hair, even though he hates having it washed.
While they wore an indention in my kitchen floor in the shape of their race track around the table, I wondered what people who didn’t have kids did after work. There are people who could lay down with their sinus headache and not have to worry about nectarine in a kid’s hair.
I began to wonder, if I would ever have a quiet house again.
Then I thought back to the weeks after we first brought WC home from the hospital. I didn’t have a clue. This child ate every two hours on the dot. It could take an hour just to feed him, change him and get him back to sleep. Then I’d have an hour before we had to do it again. 24 hours a day, seven days a week. And that meant I’d only get to sleep in 1 hour increments, even at night. And that included the time it took to fall asleep. Now both Jay and my mom would help, but the sleep deprivation hit.
At one point in time, I believed that I’d never sleep again. This would be my life and questioned why I signed up for such misery.
Some of the misery, I brought on myself. We’d known people who had a child that wouldn’t sleep in their own bed. The child was at that time, 4 years old, and it was causing problems. The child had been allowed to sleep with the parents from birth. I naively believed we’d nip that in the bud by never allowing it to happen in the first place. I’ve since altered my view on it slightly- namely the birth of CJ while having a 3 yr old WC who still needed tending regardless of how much sleep I’d had.
Six weeks into the life of WC, I was severely sleep-deprived and miserable. My mom offered to watch him overnight. She told me to pack his stuff and let him sleep over there. She had a crib- because she would be watching him when I returned to work. She didn’t have to work too hard at convincing me.
I dropped him off and went straight back home, showered and went to bed. It was the best 12 twelve hours of solid sleep I’d ever had up to that point in life. When I woke up, I immediately wanted to go get him. I even refused to wait on Jay to get ready to go with me.
Over the next few weeks, WC slowly added length of time between feedings. And the sleep deprivation faded into a distant memory.
In hindsight, it was only a few weeks. At the time it was happening, I couldn’t imagine that it would ever get better. It wasn’t forever, just a small blip on the radar of my life.
I watched my kids running circles around the table and screaming with laughter. And this too is just a small blip on the radar. One that’s going to fade too quickly. I watch them for a while and treasure the moment. Soon it will be time to stop them and go run a tub of water.
This is my joy in the midst of the chaos.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
The Bull
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.
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.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
A Lesson in Leaving (temporarily)
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Intentions
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.
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.
Friday, March 18, 2011
And then the rose colored glasses fell off
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
After the Storm
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.
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.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
The Lookout
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...
"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...
Monday, December 6, 2010
I Threatened to Cancel Christmas
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.
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.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Juggling
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.
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.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Stuff People Say
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
I'll close with one of my favorite quotes, "Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." Plato
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Spoiled Chick Goes Camping Part 3
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...
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...
Friday, September 17, 2010
Somethings Not Right...
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."
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."
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
The Easy Way to Wake Your Parents: Preschool Edition
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."
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."
Monday, September 6, 2010
Love is Blind
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.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Sour Puss
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.
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.
Friday, August 27, 2010
They Grow Up So Fast
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Control Freak?
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
My Noisy Little Mirror
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.
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.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Moving Forward
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.
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