Two Whole Hands

This week, Number One turned two whole hands!

A few years ago, okay, FIVE years ago, he was so excited to be turning, "one whole hand!"  I remember telling a co-worker, and we laughed and laughed about here, and here we are, and he's already ten.  It's hard to believe.  He's grown so much into himself, and so many of the issues of the previous years are resolving themselves as he gets older, which is a blessing to us in so many ways.

Excuse Number One's face!  He had just finished his Veteran's Day performance, and he was tired of standing.

As a parent, it's hard to express how much you love your children.  To the moon and back is never far enough.  Parenting is one of the most frustrating, heartbreaking jobs, but it's amazing to see your children grow and develop, and it is so rewarding when you see them achieving their dreams.

Speaking of dreams, I'm back to working on mine.  I pulled up my novel, previously Semi-Detached, now named No Turning Back, and I requested beta readers through Goodreads.  I received feedback from two people, and they both liked the story.  They gave me pointers on some things I can change to make it better, and mostly I agree with what they said.  It was nice to have unbiased feedback, and positive feedback from people I don't know!  It makes me feel like maybe I can actually get somewhere as a writer, if I keep putting the effort and the time into it. I just wish there were about seven more hours in the day.  There never seems to be enough time.  

In other news, the gods of unfairness are playing against me when it comes to my alopecia areata. About a month ago, I noticed I have a few strands of eyebrow hair.  They are still there: I can feel them.  Well maybe a week go, my underarms started itching, and I noticed today I'm growing a little underarm hair.  Um--can someone just transfer that to my head?  Who wants underarm hair, really?  I said in my mind what my Mom said to me, and what every one's parents said to them in a little cliche voice, "Life is not fair."  I wished for hair, and it popped up in a place where I'm going to shave it off.  Maybe I'll just let it grow long, and move to a commune or something.  Or I could be in the circus, "The Bald Woman with Underarm Hair Down to Her Toes."  Great fodder for a novel.

Number Two Turns Six!

Number Two's 6th birthday is tomorrow.  I sometimes wonder how six years went so fast.  I like to commemorate my children on this blog when their birthdays roll around each year.  Number Two is so sweet and funny.  He's generous, helpful and super imaginative.  He's my easiest, most laid back child, who has a booming loud voice when he wants to.  I often have to say, "A little bit quieter!" 

Yesterday, I was able to go on Number Two's Easter Egg hunt with school.  The children were told they could find 12 eggs.  They knew there were enough eggs for 12 each.  All the kids went in one direction, and Number Two went in the other direction.  He found almost all the eggs on top of the shrubs and on the bottom and mixed in, and pretty soon his basket was filled with about 30 eggs! 

 

 

Most of the kids found 12 eggs, but one of the teachers was doing a basket for a child who was out sick.  She said she only had 9.  Number Two promptly counted out three of his eggs, without even asking to give to the sick child.  He then walked around and looked in other children's baskets, and if they had a lot less than him he gave them out.  What a sweet, generous boy I have. 

 

 

Before Number Two was born, I was convinced he was going to have brown hair and brown eyes like me.  But, when he was born he had a sheen a fine blonde hair. The nurses used to sneak into my room just to rub his head.  He had chubby cheeks, and he looked like a little baby elf.  He was so quiet.  From day one, he slept well.  Out of all my children, he's the only one who has ALWAYS slept in his own bed.  He needs his rest, and he makes sure he receives it. 

 

 

 

Being a parent is the most amazing thing.  Sure, some days are hard with whiny kids, talking back, not going to sleep, but it's truly amazing to bring a baby into the world and watch as they turn into a fully functioning kid.  It's awesome to see how their personality develops.  To watch them develop strengths like Number Two has: kindness, imagination, mathematically-inclined, friendly, sweet, and grateful.

 

 

 

When Number Two was born, and the nurse placed him on my belly I cried.  I looked into his sweet face, and I saw all the possibilities of what he would become as he grew from a baby, to a toddler, to a boy and then to a man. 

 

 

 

 

I love you, my sweet white-headed boy, and I couldn't imagine my life without you!

 



This to Shall Pass

I am having a staycation this week, but more it is like a reminder of why I'm not cut out to be a stay-at-home Mom.  Seriously, I have these moments when I wonder why I gave birth to three kids? 

Overall today has been good, but my nine year old likes to argue and back talk, and I know he's trying to assert his independence, but I'd like to assert mine over him a little bit!  Number Two has been especially clingy and Darling Daughter didn't take a long enough nap.  They all keep arguing with me over the most trivial things, and it makes me want to scream!

The boys had their six month allergy checkup, and they were OFF the wall. 

The doctor laughed, and he's a good natured fellow, but I was not amused.  Number One and Number Two kept messing with $500 instruments, and I kept imagining them falling and breaking and my insurance being charged for it or worse yet the doctor asking for it out of pocket. 

As we were leaving, the nurse up front called to the back to see whether she could schedule Number One and Number Two together again, and the person on the other line said no. 

As they were trying to grab five lollipops, I wondered where I went wrong in raising them.  I mean for god's sake, can't they act right for fifteen minutes at the doctor?  It's not like we even had a long wait.  We waited for about a minute before they took us back and the antics began. 

I know they're not little adults, but sometimes I just wish they could BEHAVE when we go to the doctor. I wish they could mind their manners, sit there and answer his questions, get one lollipop and go on their merry way.  I know you're not supposed to compare, but sometimes I look at other people's mild manner children and I wonder how in the world they do it.  Why aren't their kids off the wall?  Why aren't they running all over the place?  What are those parents doing differently than me?  Are they beating the crap out of their kids?  Is it fear that keeps their kids aligned or do they have mutual respect?

I put the kids in the car, and I looked at them and I said, "I am so disappointed in how you acted.  That was embarrassing!  If you do that again I will take away your Kindle for a week and your Ninjagos!" 

I was so mad at their behavior.  And then I thought about it more, and I know they were stuck in the house most of today, because it has been cold.  I know they have not been in school for two weeks, so their routine is non-existent.  And I know beyond that, that I'm a good mom, but sometimes kids will be kids.  I'm so hard on myself, and when they act up I blame myself and I wonder where I went wrong, and I wonder if they're going to be juvenile delinquents or something.

The thing is, being a parent is so hard.  You're always throwing guilt at yourself.  You're always worrying about everyone else's expectations of your kids' behavior, because after all everyone in your life has an opinion on what YOU could be doing better.  When you don't have a kid who fits in a box, then it's even harder.  People don't understand the quirky behaviors, and it's hard to explain when not even Hubby and I know why he's different.   I know my kids are loved, clothed, well taken care of, and I also know that Hubby and I struggle every day to find the right way to discipline them.  Some days are so full of joy and happiness and other days are just so tough--like today.  It's all worth it to see their sleepy heads in the morning.  To watch your child take his/her first steps.  To see your child make straight A's and come in 1st in gymnastics.  To see them learn how to read, how to make friends, and to be there for them when they fall down. To feel their sticky hands on your face and the sweet, "I love yous," and to have them confide in you when their hearts seem to be breaking--that makes it worth it.   Even the days like today, when I can't wait for Hubby to come home so I can escape will be worth it, and they will pass and I'll wonder where the time went and how they grew up so quickly. 

So for tonight--I'll just take a deep breath and tell myself they're only kids.  They'll only be little for a few years longer, and I just have to accept that they will misbehave sometimes, and they will not at others.  I have to accept them for who they are and love them for it and move along without beating myself up so much.  And just realize that this to will pass...

A Little Blurb on Being a Mother

Being a parent is the hardest job.  I never understood people who said, "Oh, you don't work?" to stay at home Moms.  Stay at Home Moms work harder than anyone else I know.  They have to entertain children, and keep them functioning throughout the day, answering all their demands, feeding them, holding their hand, being there for them.  There's a huge reward at the end of the day though, when your child climbs on your lap, all grubby hands or knobby knees and looks at you and says, "I love you Mom."  There is nothing in the world better to hear.  A child equals unconditional love.  The love a child has for his mother or father is the love he searches for in a mate later on.  Why?  Because it is completely unconditional.  A mother loves you no matter what. 

My kids made my Mother's Day so special this year.  Hubby was out of town.  He went to visit family.  I'm used to being spoiled rotten, so I was actually a little sad I wasn't going to be able to sit in bed and just hang.  Instead, I was pampered by my kids.  These three little hooligans made my day:

Before we went to Dunkin Donuts for a decadent treat, I told the kids I needed to shower.  I think every mother has been there, with the kids right outside the shower door, screaming something to you.  "Mommy, I have a boo-boo!"  "Mommy, my Ninjago guy can fly!"  "Mommy, Mommy..."  and you say, "What?  I'm in the shower," and the kid just says, "Mommy," because all they really want is your attention.  As I was showering yesterday, I thought about poor Octo-Mom.  Yes, sometimes my mind wanders to strange places.  How in the world does she ever shower, as a single parent with 8 small children?  I shudder to think about what her bathroom experiences must be like!

We had our trials and tribulations this weekend.  Overall the kids were good.  Darling Daughter is so sweet, until about 7:30.  Then, as Hubby says her 80 year old smoker voice erupts, "I am not going to bed!"  She is determined she will get her way. She stands her ground and looks at me, and she thinks she will win!  I told one of my friends the other day, she reminds me of a vampire, "She turns into some evil creature at night, despite being so happy and loving during the day."  I am stubborn too, so you can imagine the battles we had.  I won this weekend though.  I had to put her in the room with the door locked.  I hate doing this, and in fact I remember when I was little I used to babysit a mother who did it and thought it was awful!  This is one of those "ah-ha," moments where I can actual feel her pain from years ago, with a child who won't go to sleep.  Last night she was only in her room for ten minutes before she decided she would pee on the potty and then sleep in the guest bedroom.  She doesn't like her room for some reason.  Most nights, she ends up as my bed partner. 

This too will pass.  Just like her standing in her chair last night at dinner, stuffing chili mac in her mouth, and saying, "I have to pee." I look over, and she's just standing there, legs spread apart, pee streaming down onto the wooden chair.  I made her finish her dinner, and then I cleaned her up.  She told me she wanted a bath, but they had already had two baths that day.  I said no.  Smelling like pee when you're 2 isn't a big deal. 

But mostly, I derive joy from them.  I love Number Two's laugh and his too loud voice.  I used to have a too loud voice, and I remember my Mom always telling me to be quieter.  He is a good listener, and he sleeps in his own bed.  He has the best imagination.  He loves to play in Darling Daughter's dollhouse with me at night.  He is the "big brother," who happens to be Spiderman. 

And then my first born.  He will always hold a special place in my heart.  The one who made me a mother.  We were playing with our neighbors this weekend.  They have a one year old, and she kept pushing the little toy lawnmower up the hill and getting it stuck.  He went and brought it down and patted her head, and she smiled at him and started following him around everywhere.  He loves little kids.  He's passionate and self-motivated. 

I love my kids.

Adventures in Pee and Poop

You know the absolute worst part of being a parent?  No, it's not the guilt you feel over every single tiny mistake, or the fact that maybe you're ruining your kid's self-esteem, or better yet you're turning your kid into a jerk.  No, it's none of those things.  It's potty training. 

Potty training is a nightmare, and I think somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder why I didn't stop at one kid when the first one was so hard to train. 

Here's a little history of potty training, thus far in our family:

Son Number One, awww...wasn't he cute?

Hard to believe he's now 8.  He'll hate me for posting this one day, when he's old enough. The photo above was taken shortly after potty training success.  Here's how potty training went with him.

His daycare told us, maybe the minute after he turned 2, that they were ready to potty train.  Bring on the pull-ups!  Pull-ups are the worst invention ever, because a) they are more expensive than diapers and b) they make your kid think he/she is a big kid while he/she is still pissing in their pants!  Number One wasn't having any of this potty training business.  No thank you!  So we tried all the tricks.  Number One is the first, so of course he's the guinea pig for the others.  Poor thing. 

First, we tried putting cheerios in the potty.  Um--whoever came up with that idea didn't think of a few things.  Potty is where pee and poop go, not cheerios!!!  A two year old is constantly eating and cheerios are the snack of choice, so instead of the pee going into the ring of cheerios, the hand goes into the potty, fetches the cheerios and eats them.  DISGUSTING!  Onto another suggestion: the sticker chart.

Number One is not like other kids.  Stickers just don't do it for him, and they never have.  He could have cared less about getting a sticker. 

In the end, we moved the potty chair into the living room, and he sat on it bare-bummed for a few months while watching Diego or Dora or some equally WONDERFUL children's show.  He'd occasionally go by accident, and we'd be all proud, and he's get some treat.  But what worked, you may ask?  Waiting until he was ready.  The weekend of his 3rd birthday we put him in underwear.  Out went the pull-ups.  He had two accidents, and then never had another one.  Voila.  None of the other tricks seemed to work.

And then came Son Number Two. 

If I could put a halo on his head I would.  I was dreading potty training with Number Two after our many unsuccessful attempts with Number One.  But this kid just did it all by himself, by the time he was 2 years old.

I noticed, and I told Hubby, that Number Two seemed dry at night. We put him in underwear, maybe a month after Darling Daughter was born.  He has had ONE daytime accident since in THREE years!  We made the poor kid wear pull-ups at night for about six months after he day trained, because we were fully convinced he was not night trained despite the fact that he'd wake up dry every morning.  He didn't mind though, because they had Lightning McQueen on them! 

Finally took him out of the night time pull-up, and guess what? No accidents.  Easiest potty training adventure thus far.  Ughh--if only they all could be the same (but seriously, what fun would that be?)

Then came Darling Daughter.  Everyone said, "Oh, girls are so easy to potty train.  Just wait.  She'll be peeing on the potty at 18 months."  Sometimes I wonder why I ever listen to people.

Sure, she's cute, and she's sweet, and she's spoiled rotten:

But, I'm beginning to wonder if she's ever going to be potty trained.  She's going on three, and so far she's interested in actually SITTING on the potty, for like a split second, and then she says, "All done," and wants to wash her hands.

I'm starting to think she's a little OCD too, because she wants to wash her hands ALL THE TIME!  She also has to put the cover to the potty down every time she goes, no exceptions.  She's so funny.  Oh, and did I say every time she goes?  I meant to say every time she PRETENDS to go! 

We've had some poop success, believe it or not.  She seems to know when she wants to poop, which is odd as that usually comes last.  We've also had some poop accidents, and let me tell you those are not pretty!

She seems to love sitting on the potty.  She wants to sit on every potty everywhere we go.  She just doesn't want to go.  She LOVES stickers, unlike her look-alike brother, but they don't seem to work for this.  I guess if I'm learning from Number One, then I just need to wait until she's ready and stop rushing her.  Some days it feels like she's never going to potty train, but I know that's not true and in a few years I'll be looking back on this post and laughing and wondering how my baby grew up so quickly.



Disappointment

Yesterday was the day.  The letter came in the mail.  The letter from the magnet program, telling me whether or not Number Two would go there. You can probably tell from the title of this post, that he did not get in.  I'm disappointed, but I know he will do fine at the public school near our house. 

I do worry about him. He has an April birthday, so he won't be 5 until then.  Number One was almost six when he started Kindergarten.  I guess we'll just play it by ear next year, see how K goes, and then decide after K what to do.  I really do love the public elementary near our house.  I just worry about middle and high.

Number Two's a lot like me.  He is laid back.  He's super imaginative.  He can play for hours with his Ninjago guys or in the play kitchen.  He makes up stories.  He has a wonderful sense of humor.  I just hope he didn't get my lack of motivation, but it seems like he did.  My lack of motivation plagued me for years. 

When I was young, I didn't understand why I couldn't pull off all As like my older sister.  I'm thinking now, it probably had something to do with the fact that she actually studied, while I barely cracked a book.  I was absorbed in my own little world, and I see that in Number Two also. 

It's not necessarily a bad thing, but we live in an age and time where schools don't reward imagination.  Schools have less and less play time, less and less music time, less recess, less art and MORE tests.  Tests, Tests, Tests.  Our kids will be good at following the rules and taking tests, but will they be able to creatively solve a problem and think outside of the box?  I think Number Two will be able to because those are his natural abilities.  He'll just need to find a purpose and a goal, and afterall that took me 33 years to realize.  He still has some time at 4. 

Parenting: Don't Focus on the Guilt

I read this amazing article yesterday from the Huffington Post, Why You're Never Failing as a Mother.  I loved the author, Amy Morrison's, sense of humor and the truthfulness of her words.  We live in a society where we do everything ourselves.  We live in houses with just our immediate families, and we raise the kids, we work, we cook, we shuffle children to hundreds of places, and maybe if we get to it we clean the potty. 
 
I have a huge guilt problem, and I always have.  I tend to blame myself for everything.  When you're a parent, you feel that guilt times 1,000 or maybe even 1 million!  I was a stay-at-home Mom for Number One's first two years of life.  When I put him in daycare, he had a hard time.  I beat myself up.  I felt like I was abandoning my child.  When Number One started having issues with control, behavior, impulsiveness, I blamed myself. I told Hubby, "He wouldn't be like this if I hadn't abandoned him at the daycare when he was 2 years old."  He went from being home with me full time to being in daycare full time.  He couldn't attach himself to the teacher in his new class (and really looking back, I think she was the problem because when he moved up to the next class he was fine!).  But the thing is: I shouldn't have blamed myself. I shouldn't have beat myself up for years for thinking I could have prevented the way he turned out.  I should have looked more at what Hubby and I were doing to help him, and what we continue to do to help him succeed and cope. 

I'm a good parent.  I spend time laughing, joking, and hugging my children.  I play Headbanz with them, even when I think it's the silliest game.  I sit on the floor with Darling Daughter and name all her baby dolls, putting them down for naps and singing night-night songs to them.  I play Ninjago Spinjitzu with Number Two, pretending to fight demons and then go to the grocery store to get a cookie, because those are the things that a Ninja does! Quality time.  And honestly, that's all a child needs to grow and thrive: quality time and the ability to allow them to establish some independence. 

We live in a world that is constantly giving us negative feedback.  We live in a world that has Pinterest, where we see that some amazing mother (who probably has millions of dollars and a nanny!) has made a craft every single day with her children.  We live in a world where the news is constantly telling us how to raise our kids and how not to.  No wonder we feel like we're doing everything wrong. 

Amy Morrison's article reminded me that it's not good to beat yourself up with guilt.  You aren't Superman.  Each person can only do so much each day.  Your kids understand that.  They see that you're there for them and in the end, years from now when they're grown up, that's what they'll remember. 

Being the Best Parent You Can Be

I've been thinking about parenting this week. I've read two blog posts which gave me insight on my life and on what my children need from me: Super Mom Debunked and Your Children Want You.  I believe both of these blogs are true.  I look at other people's Facebook posts of the crafts they do.  I think: I should buy more crafty stuff and make stuffed pigs and beautiful butterflies out of paper mache. 

Then, I try to think about all the fun things I have done with my kids: growing butterflies from caterpillars, making Jupiter with Son Number One, making art with Popsicle sticks, letting them run outside, play in the mud and dirt, letting them be the master's of their own creativity.

As a parent, it's hard to not feel guilty about the time you don't spend with your children, especially with everyone else always pointing it out.  The time you do spend with them should be quality time though, but it isn't always.  We all have bad days.  We all have days where we come home from work/school/activities exhausted and just want to lie on the couch and do nothing.  We flip on the television and our children turn into mindless zombies, and sometimes they crawl onto your lap while watching t.v. just to remind you they are there.

As a working parent, I don't have a lot of time to spend with my kids.  I constantly ask myself if I am doing enough.  Am I spending enough time with them, absorbing their little cuteness, watching them grow?  As these articles point out, I can't be super Mom.  I can't be there every minute of every day.  I have to take time for myself too, to recharge my batteries, to be a better parent for them.  I know this, just looking back at my past and how I related to them back then.  I know, in order to be the best parent I can be, that I need time away from them as well as time with them.  There is a fine balance in there.

I always believe in really talking and listening to your kids.  Use every minute you have with them as a way to connect.  Every afternoon, I pick up the three kiddos from school.  They pile into the car, and I ask each one of them (yes, even Darling Daughter, but she rarely answers!) how their day was.  I access the looks on their faces, and I ask them if something happened that day that made them happy, excited, sad, or angry.  They share with me, because they know I will listen.  I'm hoping this is a theme that will extend into adolescence when a lot of children push their parents away.  Sometimes even if you don't have the answers, listening is enough to let them know they are loved, and it will bring them comfort.

Nobody is a Super Mom.  We are all humans with our own needs, as well as our kids' needs.  Do the best you can with your circumstances.  Incorporate listening into your daily life.  Let your children know you are there for them.  Hug them often.  Show them you care with your words and your actions.

One Light Shines Brighter

I read an article in Parents magazine yesterday called "Sibling in the Spotlight," and I could not help but think of our family.  Since day one, Number One has always been a different child.  He is special, unique, and challenging and because of this he receives a lot of attention in our family. 

He was born in Maryland in a birthing center.  I went to the office, was checked and sent home because I was only two centimeters dialated.  On the way home, a thirty minute drive on I-270, my contractions changed.  By the time I made it upstairs to my room, I could not lay down.  I went to the bathroom and my water broke.  I told Hubby I needed to push.  He called the midwife who lazily said on the phone, "Come on back, but I'm sure she's only 4 centimeters dilated." 

Hubby drove 90 mph on the highway.  My comments to him were, "Slow down!" and "Speed Up!" and "If I'm only 2 cms then boy am I going to need an epidural!"  Not an hour and half after leaving, had I arrived back, fully dilated and Number One was in the birth canal.  I pushed for thirty minutes, and he was born.  The midwife on duty, yes the same one who said there was no way I was 10 cms, called him the "baby in a hurry," and he's been that way ever since.

He never slept as a baby, unless he was in my arms.  He had no ability to self soothe.  I speant many days in those first weeks, nursing him and putting him to sleep, but as soon as he would realize he was in a crib or bassinet by himself his little eyes would open up and the screaming would begin.  I sent him to daycare, because I had to go back to work and he starved himself.  He would not take the bottle.  He'd wait until I came home, and he would nurse all night long.  I ended up quitting my job so I could stay home with him.  I didn't want my baby to starve.

At five and half months, he sat up.  At six months he started crawling.  Honestly, I thought this was normal.  A normal time to reach a milestone, but boy could he crawl. He'd move fast.  He'd go everywhere, zooming around the room.  He had no need to walk, because he could crawl anywhere.  His vocabulary began building, and by ten months old he would say, "All Done," whenever I placed food in front of him.  Thus began his anorexic toddler years.  I have no idea how he survived, considering the amount of food he actually consumed.

By sixteen months old, Number One could talk in FULL PARAGRAPHS.  He was bright.  It was obvious.  He was the light in  my life.  We would read, "Moo, Baa, La, La, La" by Sandra Boynton and I would say "The Cow Says..." and he'd chime in, "Moooooooooooooooooo."  He would spend hours in his room, pulling books of his bookshelves to look through.

He has always craved a lot of attention.  He has always been a perfectionist.  Then at 3.5 years old, his brother was born.  When I was pregnant with Number Two, I did not feel attached to the pregnancy the way I had with Number One.  When he was born, he was so cute and fuzzy headed.  He had this sheen of blonde hair, and I loved him so much.  I just always felt something was wrong with Number Two though.  He NEVER cried.  He took a bottle, a pacifier, and guess what? The first night home he slept for six hours straight.  He nursed easily, self-soothed, and thus became easily overlooked.

As both grew, it became evident Number One was more different than we'd like.  He began having behavioral problems.  He is in constant motion, and the world does not understand children who can't stop moving.  We began seeking a diagnosis for him, spending more and more of our time and attention on a child who already sought it out.   Number Two became lost in the shuffle somewhere.

Number Two took forever to do everything.  He didn't sit until he was nearly ten months old, adding to my fears that something was wrong.  Crawled at eleven months old and then finally walked at 16 months old.  His speech didn't develop until he was nearly 2.5 years old.  After having a child who was so precocious, my fears were played on, and as my mom said I kept thinking something was wrong with a child who was just laid back.  He was only different from his brother, but I didn't realize that at the time.  I kept comparing and comparing, something that we humans have a tendency to do.

Then Darling Daughter came along with the "oohs and ahhs," which girls receive when they follow two big brothers, and this displaced Number Two a little bit more.  Between his brother receiving attention (albeit mostly negative) for behavior and his sister receiving attention for being the cute girl, he became constantly disregarded.

I struggle every day with trying to make him feel special. He is such a sweet, mindful child on most days.  He has an elfish grin and the blondest hair in the world.  He smiles at me and says, "Mommy, you're my best friend," and it melts my heart but it makes me feel a little guilty too since he is the oft overlooked middle child. 

I need to focus on making him feel more important.  I need to give him a place in our family. I need to listen when he calls out for me, hug him a little harder, and let him know he is so special and important to me for all that he is, and not all that he isn't.

A Weekend Synopsis

This weekend was so much fun.  I spent a lot of time outside of my little nuclear family.  I went to kisado, followed by taekwondo on Saturday.  Kisdao is a type of interval cardio training used in martial arts.  It kicked my butt, but I was proud of myself, because I only stopped once and I followed through with most of the exercises.  Darn those bicycle exercises!!!  After kisado, I stayed for taekwondo.  I felt energetic afterwards, but also a little sore.  I have done something to my shoulder, but I know it is muscle-related because I could feel myself working it out during class. 

In a side note, Son #1 decided he wants to take another break from taekwondo and do gymnastics again.  He did gymnastics from 3-4, and he's actually quite good at it.  He can do a round off.  He has that little wiry body that is perfect for gymnastics.  Today, I'll be calling around to find a class for him and Son #2 to attend.  I might as well get Son #2 involved at the same place, so I can take them to the same activity for awhile. 

This weekend Darling Daughter demonstrated her blossoming vocabulary.  When I left to go to the movies, later in the day on Saturday, Darling Daughter said "Bye-bye, Love you Mommy."  Melt my heart. 

She also played "Mommy" a lot.  She covered up her baby doll, fed her baby her juice, and then she picked up a baby doll diaper bag, put it on her shoulder, and strutted around.  Too adorable for words.  Her favorite words/phrases are, "Love you," "Please Up," "More," and "Juice."  If I'm on the computer she'll point to the pictures of her father and say "Daddy."  She also says "Caken" and "Lelam" for her brothers.  She's really starting to talk so much.  I can't believe she will be two this year.

We had our first "real" taste of winter this weekend in a cold front that brought wind and way lower temperatures.  We couldn't get outside much, so the boys took the cushions off the couch and built forts.  I remember doing this with my sisters when I was little.  We had these big blue couches.  We called them the marshmallow furniture.  We would open them up, arrange them in funny ways, and have huge forts all over the play room.  I loved watching the kids use their imagination and do something that I always enjoyed doing as a kid.

Dance Moves

Son #1 has the dance moves.  Not sure where he got them from, as both Hubby and I are dance illiterate! In this video he's dancing to Keane's Bedshaped. I realized afterwards that I probably should have been playing a faster song!

Perfect Little Boxes

Perfect Little Boxes

Children don’t fit inside boxes.  No one is perfect.  I have come to this realization after seven years of parenting.  I am a parent to a unique child.  He is special.  He is amazing.  He is difficult. He is loving and caring.  He is angry and aggressive.  At first, when Son #1’s after-school teacher told me there were problems I took it as a complete affront to my parenting skills (or lack thereof).  Son #1 was only four years old—how could he be a problem? As parents, especially working parents, I think as a general public we tend to do this: feel guilty over something we can’t control, something as inherent as personality.

I wanted Son #1 to fit in the box the school had designed for him.  I wanted him to be like his peers and to see his path laid out straight before me, but as parents you have to learn to adapt.  At first, I thought the school was overreacting (and maybe they were), but we reacted to their reaction and we began to try to figure out what was wrong with Son #1. 

At first he was diagnosed with ADHD.  Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.  It certainly seemed to fit, at least the hyperactivity part.  He is focused though, although not always.  He has a way of learning when he seems like he’s not.  He has a way of pushing other people’s buttons, and he seems to thrive on eliciting reactions from others.  There were some inconsistencies to the ADHD diagnosis.  He does not exhibit cacography; instead his handwriting (even for a left-handed child) is fairly neat.  He makes good grades in school.  Once we transferred him to a school more appropriate to him, we stopped receiving so many complaints.  He didn’t seem to be much of a problem at school, unless he was overtired or unless he had his feelings hurt.

We went through four different medications.  The first medication, Clonidine, he was on the longest but it just made him so tired all the time.  He couldn’t get through his Kindergarten class without falling asleep after lunch.  He was quiet, obedient, and not like his usual self.   Towards the end of the year, we went to our pediatrician for a second opinion on his ADHD.  The doctor suggested trying stimulants.  So we did.  He went through three different medications, each one of them not particularly right for him.  He had headaches on one.  He talked too much on the other.  He won’t sleep at night on one.  Then, we finally decided on Adderrall, and this created a whole new set of issues.  During the day, he was super compliant.  He would focus, not hop around the room, but in the evening as the medicine started wearing off or first thing in the morning he was an emotional wreck.  He began having RAGES.  These are not simple temper tantrums.  He would RAGE for forty-five minutes or an hour, then when he stopped he’d be so apologetic.  He *couldn’t* control it.  For anyone who has seen a child rage, it is such a scary thing. 

We decided to take him off the meds.  In a matter of weeks, he was back to his quirky self.  Super energy man, but he was still maintaining his grades at school: friendly, sweet, smart Son #1. 

If I had to do it over, I wonder if I would ever have put him on brain-changing medicine.  Children aren’t meant to fit into little boxes, but the world still wants them seen and not heard.   Society expects them to sit still in school, to take test after test, and not to have a mega amount of energy that my child has.  No Child Left Behind has all but taken away PE in school, so it’s no wonder that after being trapped in a desk for hours, Son #1 wants to release a little bit of his pent up energy.  It’s not wonder when he comes home from school he starts jumping off of walls. 

Who wants little boxes anyway?  It’s much more fun to be creative, unique…DIFFERENT.

Weekend is Over

I hate when the weekend is over.  I feel like I am two different people: Work Lauren and Weekend Lauren. 

We had a good time on Saturday with my sister and her kids.  They played with our kids, we ate, talked, and drank.  Then Saturday night, we went out to eat at SaZa's for Hubby's birthday.  I had the Seafood Risotto.  It was delicious.  I felt bad for not sticking, so much, to my diet.  I also had one Pineapple Upside Down Cake Martini, 2 glasses of red wine, and a Bay Breeze.  Needless to say, I woke up with a headache on Sunday.

Last night, Son #2 would not stay in his bed.  He has a problem with this.  Hubby and me, in much need of sleep, just let him crawl into our bed.  Again, Son #1 woke up with a nightmare.  He told me he dreamt about "the faces."  They were scary faces.  He cried screamed at the foot of the stairs.  I retrieved him, hugged him, and told him he could sleep on the floor in our room.  He was upset by this. He wanted to sleep in our bed.  Son #1 is a toenail digger.  By that, I mean he digs his toenails into your back when you are sleeping, and it is uncomfortable. 

He sat on the floor whining and complaining for about an hour, and every time I would think he'd fallen back asleep, he'd do it again.  I.AM.NOT.PATIENT at THREE in the MORNING.  Finally, he said, "Mommy, I need to tell you something," and I yelled, "SON #1 JUST GO TO BED!" 

I wish I could be more of a loving/comforting mother sometimes, but 3 AM is just not the time for me.  I comforted him when he came down the stairs, hugged him, told him next time he had a bad dream to remember that he controls his dreams, and that he can stop them.  That's about the extent of my comforting at 3 AM.

In other news: The boys now enjoy showers: immensely.  They say it is like playing in the rain!

Darling Daughter also repeated every word I said to her out of the alphabet book we read together, and she tried to pee on the potty, urinating instead right next to it! 

They're growing up!

A Day with One Son

I had a wonderful day, just me and Son #1 yesterday.  Having one child seems immensely easy after playing defense with three children most days.

Son # 1 woke up late, around 7:30.  I let him sit in front of the television while I blogged.  I figured that might be the only time in the day he'd have some nice quiet time to himself.  We all need that, right?  After "Spectacular Spiderman" (pronounced "Spi-cal-cular" if you are a seven year old boy) ended we  I bundled up so we could go out in the cold.  (Son #1 refuses to wear his winter jacket at all, so he just put on his blue and white jacket that is getting too small).  I took him for a haircut at Sports Clips.  He giggled when the lady used the clippers.  I wanted my video camera, because he was being cute.  They cut off all his curls. :-(  His hair now looks brown.  He likes it short though, so instead of keeping myself happy I let him do what he wanted.  Sometimes, as a parent you have to do things like this, cut off all the curls.

After this, we went to my Mom's house.  (I love my Mom.  She is amazing.  She does so much for me.  I honestly don't know what I'd do without her in my life.) We were going to go look for wigs at this place down near the Coliseum, but their wig experts were not there.  I had a friend who went down to some place near Norman Bridge Ave. the other day to look at the wigs, and she said they had a ton.  We decided to go there.  Stepping out of the car, we were greeted by a chicken wing.  Walking in, the place was enormous, a big Beauty Supply Store.  Son #1 almost stuck his head in one of those rotating heaters.  He's always getting too close to things like that!  The wigs they had were not my style.  We walked around, and we walked out. 

Mom drove me to Chappy's so Son #1 and I could have a nice lunch with Hubby.  I'm telling you, so much can be done when you only have one child with you!  Son #1 was silly at Chappy's, but sweet too.  He laid his head on Daddy's arm and acted adorable, and talked with his baby voice to the waitress (which he finds cute, but honestly I usually find annoying!). 

I snapped this picture of his full-on craziness:

After that, Mom took us to Bed, Bath, and Beyond for some house decorating shopping.  Son #1 could not get enough of these little bath displays that had frogs on them, nodding their heads!  He thought it was hysterical. 

Then, we went to see "We Bought A Zoo."  I liked this movie.  There is a concept in the movie, that 20 seconds of pure bravery can change your life for the better.  I believe this is true.  Any major decision is made in about 20 seconds.  It took me about 20 seconds to hit the "Publish Post" button on my "I'm Bald" post.  That took courage. Son #1 was a little antsy during the movie.  I believe it was a little too old for him, but later in the day he told Hubby that it was his favorite part of the day!  He cuddled up to me a lot during the movie, putting his head on me, hugging me.  I was happy, content, with life at that moment and feeling immense love for my child.  There's nothing like the love of a child.

After the movie we went home to relax for awhile.  At this point, I think we had been out of the house for five hours!  I thought Son #1 would fall asleep on the couch.  He did not!  We went to Tae Kwon Do, and I had all intentions to video tape Son #1's form, but there were about 50 kids in his class yesterday and so I decided to wait for a less crazy day.  After that, my parenting duties were over for the day!  Hubby swung by to pick up Son #1, so he could get a good night's sleep for school today.

What a nice mental health day!

Happy New Year! 2012

Happy New Year!  I know most of us are all shocked and surprised that the world didn't end.  I guess the Mayans just ran out of stone.  Oh, but I also heard that the world isn't supposed to end until 12/21/12, so maybe it still will.

We had a great time ringing in the New Year with friends.  Normally, on New Year's Eve, I'm in bed and asleep by 9 or 9:30.  Hubby always calls me an old fogey!  Well, not last night.  We invited over some friends and their kids.  The kids played  destroyed the upstairs playroom, while we adults ate, drank, and talked downstairs.  It was so much fun!  I think we're going to have to do this every year.  What a wonderful way to celebrate the end of one year and the beginning of another!  To add to the fun, Auburn won their game against Virginia!  WAR EAGLE!!!

Unfortunately, I drank too much.  I remembered when I woke up this morning why I don't drink like that anymore, because when you get past a certain age you simply cannot handle alcohol!  Once in awhile it's fun though.

I did not really cook for the party.  I bought a lot of little finger foods from Costco, popped them in the oven, and voila, food!  Son # 2 was sick in bed most of the day.  He had a fever of 104.3, and finally around 3:30 when we realized it was not going down with tylenol and motrin, Hubby took him to PriMed.  Of course, he didn't have the flu or strep, and they sent him home saying it was most likely a virus.  He spent most of the evening pent up in our bedroom watching "Curious George" on our computer (we don't have a tv in there).  He is feeling much better today!

I was shocked that Darling Daughter managed to stay up until about 9:00 and even more shocked that Son #1 stayed up until 12:38!!!  That was a miracle.  He is usually a mess if he goes to bed later than 8 or 8:30.  Who knows what today will bring after that late night!  Here's a cute video from earlier in the day, when Darling Daughter and Son #1 were being sweet to each other (sort of).  I tried to get them to wish everyone a "Happy New Year," too, with limited success:

The kids counted down with us: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and then screamed Happy New Year's!  The party dwindled down, everyone left, and I fell into bed with my burning hot baby. 

I'm looking forward to a better year than 2011.  We're starting it out by watching movies, relaxing, and cleaning the house.

Happy New Year's to Everyone!!!

Santa Won't Come

Threats of no presents don’t work with this boy.  He must know that he is on the “Nice” list, and no amount of Mommy saying, “Santa won’t bring you presents,” would bother him.

Yesterday, Son # 2 was having quite the fit.  He wanted to go to his grandma’s house instead of daycare.  Who wouldn’t want to go over there, right?  I led him down the stairs and told him we’d call his grandmother so she could explain that she had a doctor’s appointment.  This seemed to do the trick for a moment.

After a quiet and calm conversation with his grandmother, he settled down enough to sit at the kitchen table for some breakfast.   He then became ornery again, though, saying that he was going to throw his juice if he didn’t have a juice box with breakfast.  Daddy and I stuck to our guns, though, and we did not give in.

I looked in Son #2’s eyes and said, “You know Santa is watching you, right?”

He looked up at me with his huge blue eyes and a scowl on his face.

“Don’t you want Santa to visit you?”

“NO!” Son #2 said emphatically, as he began to reach for the cup.

“If you do that, Santa might not bring you presents.”

“I DON’T WANT SANTA TO BRING ME PRESENTS!”

What do you do then?  I just looked down at my cereal, continued eating, and five minutes later Son #2 was his usual, chirpy self.

On Being a Working Parent

Being a working parent is like being drawn and quartered by horses.  Ok, that’s a bad analogy, but seriously it is like being pulled in multiple directions at once!  Here’s a diagram for y’all:

Really, there should be more than four though, because this doesn’t even begin to describe the chaos that is my everyday life.  Plus, they should be interconnected, like a Venn diagram.  My experience with the Paint application is limited.

I tried to focus on the positive, instead of the negative.  Descriptive words such as “joy” and “love” are in the same box as the kids, instead of words like “guilt” and “frustration”.  The truth is all of the aforementioned emotions come with being a parent, and are normal to feel.

I remember the overwhelming J-O-Y I felt when each of my children was handed to me after being born.  I remember crying upon seeing their little faces and immediately feeling unconditional
L-O-V-E for them.  I also remember feeling so G-U-I-L-T-Y when I had to return to work, with each one of them; somehow scared that the hours apart from me would scar them for the rest of their lives.

But being a working parent is fulfilling to me.  Oh, I certainly have days where I hem and haw, and I don’t want to go to work, and I would die to be a stay at home mom.  But, I also have days where I go to work, and I enjoy my co-workers and generally enjoy my job.  I have established
R-E-L-A-T-I-O-N-S-H-I-P-S through work that I would not have otherwise.  I know my kids are being well taken care of and they are learning how to interact with their peers while I’m away.  I also find infinite pleasure in their little faces when I pick them up from school every day, so excited to see their Mommy!

I never knew how hectic life could be, trying to fit everything in.  Sometimes it’s enough to drive you crazy!  Some people find solace in schedules, but I honestly find them entirely useless.  I’ve probably spent the better half of seven years, printing and ignoring schedules.  I don’t like to be put in a box.  I don’t like the routine.  I think working, despite chaos of life, has helped me establish a sense of my S-E-L-F, and to realize what I still need to work on. 

Being a working parent is about weaving all of these boxes together, and coming up with a way to handle the time constraints without losing your sanity.  I’ve had to learn to focus on the positive in my life: the love for my children, the kinship with my friends, and the faithfulness of my husband.  Doing this makes me feel like all of different aspects of “the boxes” are worth it.

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Christmas Time Makes Them Crazy, Fa, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La!

December 13, 2011 

Parenting is hard.  Parenting around Christmas time is nearly impossible.  The kids simply go nuts.  A lot of people have tricks up their sleeves, like "The Elf on the Shelf."  I could tell you in my house that might last about five minutes, before one child, maybe one specific child, would touch him and the magic would be gone. 

Yesterday it was time to decorate our beautiful, $30, Costco Christmas tree.  (Sidenote: If you're still looking for Christmas trees, then this is definitely the way to go!  Best Christmas tree ever!)  Son#1 was super excited.  Literally, bouncing off the walls, as he is prone to do at least five times a week!  Son#2 maintained his uber calm state, in direct contrast to his older brother.  Darling Daughter was strapped into her chair where she couldn't do any damage, or eat any of the packing popcorn that had been thrown precariously from the boxes by the boys. 

Decorating the Christmas Tree would not have been bad, if some Cybor-Galactic Borg from Planet Crazy had not abducted Son#1 and replaced him with this kid:

Yeah, the look on his face is exactly how he was acting.  Notice the calm happiness of Son#2.  Notice Dad playing defense with Darling Daughter, holding her, so she doesn't pluck the, "so carefully placed," ornaments directly off the tree. 

Who knew what was going on with Son#1 that day?  He was literally bouncing around the room, throwing ornaments at the tree, without even trying to securely attach them.  We had several ornament fatalities, such as the head from the mouse ornament and the wheel on one of the cars.  May they rest in pieces.  Who knows why Santa spends so much care picking these ornaments out for these special children when this is how they get treated?

After the ill-fated Christmas tree decorating and a few threats of bedtime, it was time for the boys to go into the bath.  I poured the bubbles in, and I sat by the side of the tub watching them.  At this point, I realized that I am not equipped to handle questions about Jesus and Christmas. 

The conversation went something like this:

"Mommy, how many days until Christmas and presents," Son#2 asked.

"Um, 13 days.  But, you know the real reason we celebrate Christmas is because of baby Jesus."

"Was baby Jesus five when he was born?" Son#1 asked.

"No.  He was a baby.  He is the Son of God."

"Why was he born?" Son#1 asked, always the inquisitive one.

"To take away the sins of man."

Confused look.  "How old is Jesus, Mommy?" Son#1, again.

"Well, he died a long time ago."

"How did he die?" again, the Inquisitive One.

"Well Pontius Pilate.he was crucified."

"What does that mean?" Son#1.

"They put him on a cross."

"What is a cross?" Son#1 asked.

Then, I'm sitting by the tub making my fingers into a cross.  Son#1 nods his head like he understands.

"You mean they drew a cross, and put him on it?" Son#1.

Big sigh from me.  This conversation is going nowhere pretty.  "No, he was crucified."

"What does that mean?"

"It means the bad people nailed him to the cross, and he died."

"How did he die?"

"From being nailed to the cross.Ok, who needs to be washed?"

Sometimes the best way out of a conversation with a curious seven year old is just to change the subject.