Entries from August 2008
Go back to sleep! This is what you will hear me say on any given morning, as it is rare that I wake up before my children. The days when one sleeps in, the other wakes up at the crack of dawn and vise versa. It’s a cruel twist to my day. I love, love, love to sleep. Especially when it is 5am. Or 5:30am. Even 6am.
I can only think of 3 days when I was totally OK with waking up at 5am. One was to board a plane for a vacation to Cancun. The other two were the days I was scheduled for C-sections at the hospital. I wasn’t sleeping those mornings anyway so I was just glad we could get moving. Other than those three days I can’t think of any reason to wake up before, oh, say 7am.
In my olden days of not being a mom and working at a job that started later in the morning, I was known to sleep until 9 every morning. This, of course, meant I was able to stay up later, which I so love to do. Now when I see 11pm coming I know I better get to bed fast, or I will have many regrets in a mere 6-6 1/2 hours when the children wake me. Did I mention I really need about 8 hours of sleep to function normally? Even more makes me function even better.
I keep trying to explain to the wee ones that I am a much nicer mommy when I get to sleep a little later. They haven’t really caught on yet, but I’m sure they will. I’m counting on the fact that they will one day put together the happy-mommy-in-the-morning with the days we all sleep until 7am. I just hope it gets here before I have scarred them with my sleepy pleas for them to go back to sleep. I know it’s not likely for them to go back to sleep once they are awake, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. Even ten more minutes of lying prone in the bed helps me.
I like to think ahead to the days when they are in high school and they sleep until all hours of the morning/afternoon. I could say I will seek revenge on them and take pleasure in waking them, but I imagine I will be in my bed fast asleep catching up on my zzzzzs.
Categories: Brigid
Tagged: children, early morning, sleep
Nicholas’s teacher is a wonderful woman. He is starting the warm-up process by going to school occasionally while I sub and help out around the school. He will start for real in January going two days a week. Last week was one of his first real days without me. I was in a different classroom and he was out on his own. Quite a bit of crying, which I could hear from my room. Quite a bit disturbing, but he was not crying with tears and true hurt. He was crying out of anger and lack of words to explain his emotions. Somehow that made me feel better. That, and knowing that the woman he was with truly understands children. And the times he wasn’t crying, he was having a ball.
We both watched him on the playground take a drink of his water and instead dump it all right onto his shirt. I mentioned something about “some days he has no spills and other days it’s like he has never held a cup before” wanting her to know that he does get a cup at home. She replied “it’s the process right now. He’s learning cause and effect.” It was nice to have someone acknowledge that there is nothing wrong with him for spilling water. That he is not behind, slow, or otherwise challenged. He’s just into the process.
He’s so into the process, in fact, that he has taken to dumping all of his drinks either on his shirt or on the floor. He likes to clean them up with a towel. No kidding. He asked me for a drink by getting a cup and pointing to the water spout on the fridge and grunting until I did as I was instructed. He took about a half a sip and then poured the water on the floor. Then promptly asked for a towel, again with the pointing and grunting. Some in our house would take that to mean that he “isn’t ready” for a cup. I know that he is just working through the process. I, for one, will be glad when the process moves to something that doesn’t create the process of more laundry. But at least, for now, we are not going through the throwing things in the toilet process, which was a lot more gross!
Categories: Nicholas
Tagged: process, spilling water, toddler
I actually threw my two sense (I realize now, that is supposed to be “cents” but I think I like it better this way…) in today where it was not invited. I did this last week also. I wonder if it’s that whole getting older thing, or if I just need to get out more…
Anyway, I was at the park in the late afternoon with the kiddos and there was a mom there with twin girls who were a tad bit younger than Maggie. They all got along famously. The mom and I talked a little because I noticed the girls had on Big 10 shorts and I love to talk about the Big 10. A little while later she told her girls it was time to go and they both looked at her and said “no” scampering off. I could tell she was embarrassed. It’s one thing when your kids do that in the privacy of your own home. It’s truly another when they do it in front of a total stranger.
We joked around a little about it and I tried to make her feel more comfortable. But in doing so she told me some of the things she tries to use as leverage – like “when your father gets home” and “we were supposed to go out for ice cream tonight, but I guess you don’t want to.” She mentioned some books that I am vaguely familiar with, but that I think really miss the point when it comes to discipline.
The bottom line is I want my children to learn what is right and what is wrong. I want them to be able to tell the difference themselves, and I want them to do what is right because they want to, not because they fear what I will do to them. If they can learn these valuable lessons now while I am around them most of the time, then they will have the ability to make the right choices when I am not around them. Children who learn to do to avoid being in trouble eventually end up out on their own with little to keep them out of real trouble.
So I recommended the book Positive Discpiline by Jane Nelsen. She didn’t ask for my thoughts, I just kind of threw them in there. She didn’t react badly, and in fact, asked me the name of the book again before she left. I highly recommend it to anyone who struggles to find the right words to use with thier children. Just a slight change in verbage can make the biggest difference to a preschooler. And there are countless other insights and strategies throughout the book.
I made the recommendation and quickly followed it with the truth – I always have the best intentions with my own children and I often make mistakes. I am, by no means, the model parent. We all just do the best we can, at that moment, with what we know. But I would say this book has helped me to raise my game, at least some of the time. Bedtime at our house tonight did not go as I planned, but tomorrow we will start fresh and hope we can learn from our mistakes. At the very least we can talk about what works and what doesn’t and try to come up with a solution together, instead of passing down a mandate that strips them of their voices. They are my children and I want to hear what they have to say.
Categories: parenting - my way
Tagged: discipline, mothers, parenting, positive
The Case of the Missing Library Books. Sounds like one of the Encyclopedia Brown mysteries I used to read when I was young(er). Instead it has been a current theme in my life recently. I pride myself on knowing where things are in the house (until someone I married moves things all around). Really I lose things much more frequently than I would care to admit. But library books have always had kind of a scared place in my life. No one would dare to lose a library book. Until I did.
It actually wasn’t technically lost. Well, there was a slight chance I had lost it in a hospital parking lot, but that was the day my son was about to have surgery and my only job for the day was to hold it together, not keep track of books. Other than that day, keeping track of books ranks fairly high on my list of things to do. So that day was a bit of a wild card. If I didn’t lose it in the parking lot, then it had to be in the house. Somewhere.
I finally walked shamefully into the library to explain I had lost the book and pay them whatever fee they wanted. I hoped they wouldn’t take my card. I hoped I wouldn’t have to wear a scarlet L for losing a book. I was mortified. They didn’t seem too bothered. They actually suggested I wait until the fine built up a little in case the book turned up. They were very nice. Too nice. I chose to pay it and get it off my conscience. I also hoped it would turn up as soon as I paid for it. I didn’t even care about the money. I wanted to know where that book was! I figured I have gotten well over that money in books I have borrowed. It was more of a user’s fee than anything.
About a month later I found the book. It was hiding in an armoire in our guest room where I had moved a pile of “important” things. So important I hadn’t missed any of them in over two months. Well, nothing except that book!
I remember this story now because I just spent the last two weeks searching the house for two library books we checked out for my daughter. I renewed them just to have more time to look for them. And low and behold, in my husband’s cleaning frenzy (and I do mean FRENZY) last weekend he found both books. In different places. He isn’t really sure where. That part drives me nuts. I want to know where they were so I can look there first next time.
I will hold my head high as we return those books tomorrow. They will have no idea I almost lost two more of their books. I really must come up with a better system.
Then there are the six books I returned today. I didn’t get to read any of them. I have such high hopes when I get to go the “mommy section” for a few minutes and select a few books. If only I had been able to read any of the 60 books I have checked out so far this year. I guess I will keep checking them out, trying not to lose them, and see if I can actually read a few.
Categories: Brigid
Tagged: books, late, library
The remote story is a little funny, but mostly sad. Last night after getting the kids to bed, getting lunches ready for the three of us and breakfast bowls, spoons and glasses out for the next morning I deliriously headed to the couch with my piece of chocolate. Only to get there and have my husband tell me he couldn’t find the remote. Not a big deal, right? Oh, yes, a big deal. Without it our TV is virtually not usable. The nine o’clock hour of my day almost always involves the TV.
My first thought was that Nicholas had dropped it somewhere. He likes to carry things around and then drop them in a VERY random fashion. My next thought was that Maggie had hidden it because I didn’t let her watch shows in the late afternoon yesterday. Either scenario spelled trouble for us. My husband checked under the couch and in the couch crevices. I snuck back into the room I had just put Nicholas to sleep in, searching the floor , closet and any other random place he would go, using my book light to light the way.
Then Mike searched the downstairs. The whole downstairs. Another toyroom, the toy chest next to the TV, back to the hallways. I went into Maggie’s room with a flashlight and searched her whole room. We were two people on a mission. We finally met back up in Nicholas’ bedroom with two flashlights and desperate looks on our faces. Nothing.
I was having flashes of my children trying to ruin my night. Maggie must have known she was hiding it. She was the last to turn the TV off. I almost woke her to ask her where it was. I pictured Nicholas dumping it in the trash that had already been taken out (with last night’s chicken package, iiccckkk.) I think I was going through a mini version of withdrawal. I was going to find it, somehow…
Looking back, we could have just read a book, or talked to each other, or various other things adults do in the night. But I was tired and I wanted to eat my chocolate while watching a DVR’d show without commercials and go to bed. I was sooo bummed.
I finally moved the whole toy box and there it was! It had been on top of the toy chest and my guess is that Nicholas opened the chest and it fell behind. Both my sweet children were innocent of any wrongdoing and no one was out to get me. Whew. Crisis averted. My husband said he had even checked the toilets, what with toilet boy being one of the suspects…
So now I leave you to go eat a piece of chocolate and sit in front of the TV. I hope.
Categories: Brigid
Tagged: lost, remote control, TV
I had just finished a brief phone call and went into the living room to survey the level of toy mess. I glanced up at the clock and it said 4:00pm. Whoa! How did that happen? It was just 2:30 not too long ago. Time sometimes gets away from me when we are out and about, and even sometimes during the morning, but the afternoon rarely races by, especially on a rainy day when we are stuck inside. So I went to the kitchen to begin a plan for dinner. (I am beginning to see why I don’t get as much done as I would sometimes like – a lot of planning and surveying, not much doing…)
I get to the kitchen which is a mere three steps from the living room and glance at that clock which kind of slaps me in the face by saying 3pm. Huh? Check living room clock again to be sure I haven’t lost it. 4:00pm. Kitchen – 3pm. What? So I take a moment to think about it. The living room clock is battery operated, so if it were to start telling the wrong time it would be slow, not fast. The kitchen clock is also battery operated, but the oven clock and microwave clock are electric and all agree it’s only 3:00pm. Glance at living room clock again, notice couches that my husband moved this weekend curiously close to the wall the clock is on. Notice pile of pillows curiously directly below the clock. Damn. It’s only 3pm.
That hour that was robbed from me, not robbed in a physical sense, but robbed in the mental sense, then took five hours to pass. No lie. Time started standing still. Ugh.
Maggie appeared and I asked her if she had moved the hands on the clock. She said she wasn’t sure. That was just a momentary stall to figure out how bad the situation was. Then she said that a tiny little mouse snuck into the house and he moved the hands on the clock. I asked if it was hickory, dickory dock and she lit up and said “Yes! Hickory, DickoryDock, the mouse snuck in the house, the clock struck one, he changed the time and down he run.” She seemed quite pleased with herself.
After the hour finally passed and it was really time to make a plan for dinner, into the kitchen I went. I got out the chicken that I had bought at the grocery earlier today. Let me start by saying I hate raw chicken. I hate buying it, I hate putting it in my cart (I usually stow it on the bottom rack so it doesn’t contaminate any of my food), I hate touching it, I hate cooking it, and by then, I hate eating it. It totally grosses me out. Today I got home from the grocery to find the chicken in a plastic bag next to the ground beef, not in a plastic bag, next to the kids yogurt and our cheese! Gross!!! Raw meat does NOT go with ready to eat foods. Ever!
I began cooking chicken and over-cooked the outside while the inside was still raw – one of my specialities. I finally cussed the chicken and vowed to never buy/cook chicken again. We eat plenty of it out and the kids barely do that anymore because they think it will taste horrible like the chicken I make at home. So no more raw chicken for me, thank you very much. Maybe in the dead of winter when I want the oven on I will try again, but if I never saw another piece of raw chicken I would be a happy woman.
So, now I am off to eat a big piece of chocolate.
Categories: Brigid
Tagged: chicken, children, clocks, cooking, hour, raw, time
For something light tonight, because I need to laugh, I decided to share some of the funny things Maggie comes up with.
As she watched me flossing my teeth the other morning “I wish I could make that cool sound with the floss.” (As it comes out from between my teeth.)
When we were leaving Rooms to Go before she was ready “I’m not done at Disneyland yet.” She thinks the kids room in the back of Rooms to Go is Disneyland because it has so many princess things.
We left the YMCA last week and the paramedics were parked out front. They had been called to help a woman who appeared to me to have had a diabetic issue while doing a swim class. I explained some of this to Maggie, but we were sure the woman was OK because the paramedics were leaving. A few days later I complained to Maggie that I didn’t like her behavior and it might be that she had too much sugar that day. She replied “Well, sugar really helped that woman at the pool, so too much sugar is not a bad thing.”
I have resorted to the old “Last one there is a rotten egg” a few times lately, mostly when I am totally willing to be the rotten egg as long as it gets her moving. The other day we were getting in the car and she said “Mom, we are not playing the boiled egg game.”
We were listening to NPR on the way to school and they were doing a story on Pennsylvania voters. Eight different voices said “George Bush” (who they voted for last time) and then “I don’t know” for who they would vote for this time, showing the voters not necessarily going the party line. Maggie said “Wait a minute. George Bush. That’s the doll that Nana and Bapa have.” It is. It’s a cat toy that they pounce on and carry around in their mouths. Nothing gets by this girl.
This morning I said in a very cheery voice “We get to go to the dentist tomorrow.” She said “We do?? Awesome! I love the dentist.” Maybe I’m selling that one a little too much…
It seems there are more that I can’t remember at the moment. And these don’t do nearly as well typed as they do with her cute face and strong intonation behind them. But tonight it’s the best I can do.
Categories: Maggie
Tagged: four-year-old quotes
I have spent waayyyy too much time today working on a project I volunteered to do for Maggie’s school. I had spent a good deal of time working on the layout and design and was pretty happy with the product. Then I went to Kinko’s to print it out because it’s tabloid size which my little printer just can’t do. Went to the first Kinko’s, you’ll notice here that would be the first Kinko’s but they no longer have the program I used, QuarkXPress. They sent me to another Kinko’s who still is “Quarky.” But there my newsletter went terribly wrong when their computer did not recognize my font and recalculated everything to it’s version of the same font! Same font, same size, but now nothing fit. The horrors of technology.
So after quite a few attempts and I must say a fairly helpful staffer, though not helpful enough to be able to do it all for me, I came home to try plan B. Plan B consisted of changing fonts to see if their computer recognized a different font the way it should. Plan C was to actually change my newsletter to PDF format. (Are you bored yet, because I sure as hell am.) I ended up downloading a program for $30 that said it would solve all my problems for less than the $300 program. Bought it, and kept getting error messages. No lie. Plan D was to change the design size to 8.5 x 11 instead of 11 x 17. Booo.
Figured out that the logo was causing error messages, by trial and error, mind you, not because the program helped me. So now I finally have the newsletter as a PDF minus the logo which I will just have to figure out tomorrow. Was going back to Kinko’s tonight to get a copy the Director could proof and sign off on, but Nicholas wouldn’t go to sleep. Asked husband to help, he helped for all of 10 minutes and gave up. Left Nicholas to cry, which “we” don’t do. Husband murmured something about how “he does it all” which would be laugh-out-loudable if I didn’t see stars when he said it. I tried to get Nicholas to sleep and every time I crept out he sat up screaming. It NEVER works when I’m mad. He senses the tension and all bets are off.
So now Nicholas is crumbling up printed out rough drafts of the newsletter instead of sleeping and it’s two hours past his bedtime. The only good thing to come out of all this mess is if I had stormed out to Kinko’s like I wanted to they would have gotten quite a show. I forgot I had taken my bra off and this in NOT the shirt to wear braless. Unless, that is, that would help them get this stupid logo back in and print out the darn newsletter… not really, I’m not that cheap or easy, but a girl can dream.
Categories: Brigid
Tagged: computer woes, error message
No lie. It hurts to type. I went to my first Power Sculpt class today with a friend and it took every last power I had in my body to drive the car home. My core muscles apparently suck rocks! I knew I was in trouble when the leader kept saying “we’re just warming up, we’re just warming up.” I thought maybe she was trying to make a joke since I was close to maxxed out. Not the case. We went on for another hour and fifteen minutes. I had no idea how long the class was so I was hopeful at the 45 minute mark and again at the hour mark. The rest was just plain brutal. I’m pretty sure that if I hurt already, and I did the exercise today, that tomorrow I may have to lie in bed all day. Not likely, but sounding really good right about now.
One part she called the skull crusher. You lay (I’m too freakin’ tired to get my book that reminds me the difference between lay, lie, etc. Take pity on a sore girl and save judgement…) on your back and hold the weights above your head lowering them ever so carefully toward your forehead. Then back up and then back down, like about 90 times. Well, maybe 12 or 24, I honestly can’t tell you how many. I started daydreaming of actually crushing my skull and being wheeled out by paramedics on a cozy gurney. I decided that would actually be a bit too embarrassing, at least this week. I’m holding onto it for later in case I need it.
The plan is to actually attend again next Saturday. I might have the flu by then. But seriously, there was a wide array of people in all shapes, sizes and ages. I was about middle of the road in all areas, but these people were kicking my butt. One woman had to have been twice my age (and that makes her nearly 80!) She might not have done every rep, but she certainly did the whole hour and a quarter. I was duly impressed.
I have never been so happy for someone to tell me goodbye. Then we had to unload all of our props. Somehow my 5 pound weights seemed to have gained about 3 pounds during the hour. And the ten pounders were just downright heavy. I carry a 30-pound child around, how can ten pounds bring me to my knees? Speaking of the 30-pound child, he must have sensed my weakness because he wanted nothing more than to be held and carried today. I plan to go to bed early and hope I wake up in a few days when my muscles have forgiven me.
Categories: exercise - sort of
Tagged: exercise, sore muscles
The only plan for today? Haircuts. Both my children finally needed haircuts at the same time. And today was the perfect day, not my workout day, no school, before the weekend rush, perfect. Until it actually started. I had hopes until about 15 minutes ago that we would all rally and still get haircuts. Now both children are fast asleep taking much needed naps. Haircuts will have to wait.
Maggie has decided I spend too much time with Nicholas and staged a revolt this morning. Of course I didn’t get to the real reason until the revolt had been going on for more than two hours. But that’s it in a nutshell, I spend too much time with him and not enough with her. I think it is also a great deal of — I help him get dressed (he’s only 1 1/2) and she gets herself dressed. I help him pick up toys, she is responsible for picking up her own toys. I carry his dirty dishes, she carries her own dirty dishes. I change his diapers, she has to wipe her own butt (something she has always hated and finds terribly gross, and thinks I should do instead). But the biggie is I co-sleep with Nicholas and she sleeps by herself.
Most days she is fine with this. We have worked through some rough patches and we seem to get in sync and then she pulls a morning like this and I wonder how to be in two places at once. Of course the whole time I’m trying to talk with her Nicholas is going around pulling out more toys and emptying shelves, thereby prolonging the whole clean up process. I don’t make her clean up his messes, I’m not heartless. But her own dress up clothes that just need to be walked down to the dress up box? You betcha.
So we are back to the dilemma, do I start sleeping with her sometimes because she needs me or do I let her work through this because she wants me. Needs and wants are two totally different things. I miss sleeping with her. We co-slept until a Nicholas was born. Then my husband shared took over and eventually she began to sleep by herself. I loved sleeping with her. If it worked to all sleep together I would do it in a heartbeat. It doesn’t. We tried. The kids loved it, I barely slept for a week. Doesn’t make for a happy mom.
Maybe we’ll just see how the rest off the day goes. A good nap for them both and who knows, we might be off to get haircuts…
UPDATE: You will all be relieved to know we made it for haircuts! Maggie got a considerable trim, not sure it’s even in back and Nicholas is definitely not even. Don’t think we will be going back there, but at least they are trimmed for the time being…
Categories: Maggie · parenting - my way
Tagged: acting out, children, cosleep
