I don't even know where to begin tonight. I made the mistake of watching the news and all I want to do now is to wake up my babies and hold them tight. Since I can't do that without upsetting them, I've decided instead just to make a list of the wonderful things about my girls.
My older daughter is the most caring, empathetic person I have ever met. She sees so much beauty in the world. She goes out of her way to compliment strangers. She gives the most genuine hugs. She is reasonable and level headed. She thinks that princesses are special because they are kind. She seeks out the person in the room who feels awkward, and makes them feel welcome. She protects her little sister and her dogs no matter what the circumstance.
My younger daughter dances to any music, no matter where she is. She has a smile that brightens the world. She pays attention to the smallest detail, and is able to unerringly recreate it. She loves ferociously. She doesn't care what anyone else thinks, she forms her own opinions very carefully. She likes everyone. She beams when she gets a compliment. She will someday be the defender of the weak, because she will not standby silently. She says hello to everyone she sees, and she means it.
I am so thankful that I get to share my heart with these two special little girls. I tell them every night that I am so lucky to be their mommy, and I truly am. Children are such a gift, and rather than dwelling on the kind of badness that exists in the world, I will dwell on the light that children bring to the world.
Friday, November 22, 2013
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Parenting Books
I just finished reading a really great discipline book called Love and Logic. What I liked about it was that it doesn't do "chances," when a child misbehaves, they are immediately punished for it in an appropriate fashion. Small misdeeds equal small punishments, such as removing the thing they aren't supposed to touch, and big misdeeds get bigger punishments, such as crib time for hitting.
I don't love everything about this book though. It focuses too much on discipline, and not enough on parenting. I think that the discipline style presented in this book is great. When my children do something they know they aren't supposed to do, they are immediately punished in an appropriate fashion. Throw your food? Meal is over. We do this in a matter of fact fashion, with no raised voices, and once the "punishment" of removing the food and placing the child on the floor has been performed, we get on with life. No further conversation about it, no lingering disapproval.
But the best way to prevent the discipline from being needed is to parent. If I want to keep my kids at the table eating nicely, it takes both hands. It takes the willingness to end their meal immediately when they act up, but mostly, it takes me carrying on a conversation with them while they eat so that they don't get bored and (literally) toss their cookies.
If we are being completely honest here, I loathe family meal time. I have always preferred to eat in silence while reading a good book. And there are some nights when I need that time, so I join the kids in a small meal, and then treat myself to a solitary, nose-in-book meal after they've gone to bed. But no matter my preference, while they are sitting at the table with me, I know I will get the best behavior out of them if I am on my best behavior as well. So, we pretend to be having a tea party, or I pretend that my hand is a rabbit coming to steal their vegetables if they don't eat them quickly. We talk about our favorite colors. We plan what to do that day. We discuss what happened at school that day, or make up stories.
I caught myself relying too heavily on discipline this morning. I found myself continuously telling the girls to stop ________ and then having to punish them. I couldn't figure out what the heck was wrong, and assumed they were getting sick, or needed more sleep, or something! But now that they've gone down for their naps and I've had time to reflect, my parenting was not up to par this morning. I wasn't directing them appropriately. Instead of telling them to stop banging their hammers on the kitchen table, then removing their hammers when they didn't listen to me, I should have told them to stop banging their hammers on the kitchen table because they were denting it, but lets go find something that needs fixing. <---- discipline and parenting.
I have big plans for them when they wake up. I know we will have a better afternoon.
I don't love everything about this book though. It focuses too much on discipline, and not enough on parenting. I think that the discipline style presented in this book is great. When my children do something they know they aren't supposed to do, they are immediately punished in an appropriate fashion. Throw your food? Meal is over. We do this in a matter of fact fashion, with no raised voices, and once the "punishment" of removing the food and placing the child on the floor has been performed, we get on with life. No further conversation about it, no lingering disapproval.
But the best way to prevent the discipline from being needed is to parent. If I want to keep my kids at the table eating nicely, it takes both hands. It takes the willingness to end their meal immediately when they act up, but mostly, it takes me carrying on a conversation with them while they eat so that they don't get bored and (literally) toss their cookies.
If we are being completely honest here, I loathe family meal time. I have always preferred to eat in silence while reading a good book. And there are some nights when I need that time, so I join the kids in a small meal, and then treat myself to a solitary, nose-in-book meal after they've gone to bed. But no matter my preference, while they are sitting at the table with me, I know I will get the best behavior out of them if I am on my best behavior as well. So, we pretend to be having a tea party, or I pretend that my hand is a rabbit coming to steal their vegetables if they don't eat them quickly. We talk about our favorite colors. We plan what to do that day. We discuss what happened at school that day, or make up stories.
I caught myself relying too heavily on discipline this morning. I found myself continuously telling the girls to stop ________ and then having to punish them. I couldn't figure out what the heck was wrong, and assumed they were getting sick, or needed more sleep, or something! But now that they've gone down for their naps and I've had time to reflect, my parenting was not up to par this morning. I wasn't directing them appropriately. Instead of telling them to stop banging their hammers on the kitchen table, then removing their hammers when they didn't listen to me, I should have told them to stop banging their hammers on the kitchen table because they were denting it, but lets go find something that needs fixing. <---- discipline and parenting.
I have big plans for them when they wake up. I know we will have a better afternoon.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
What I Do
I was listening to a group of moms at the park today, and they were talking about how much they don't get done. The whole conversation was just shy of bragging about how little they accomplish, and how they choose to focus on their kids instead, which makes them good moms. I'm not going to beat a dead horse about how I disagree with that, but for 45 minutes they were talking about how impossible it was to get everything done without neglecting their kids. It isn't always easy, but I really do think it is possible. I'll share a normal day for us, today, in fact.
6:30 Kids woke up. We cuddled on the couch, and I had my coffee while they watched tv.
7:00 Breakfast. Whole grain waffles and fresh blueberries. After breakfast, I cleaned up the kitchen while they played and intermittently helped me. Threw in a load of laundry, got them dressed, then took a shower and dressed myself.
8:00 2 mile walk followed by an hour at the playground. When we got home, I cleaned both bathrooms while the girls painted pumpkin shaped coffee filters to hang on the back door.
11:00 Lunch. Today was a cop-out lunch, and we had turkey and cheese rollups, cucumber slices, and cherry tomatoes. After lunch, I got the kitchen cleaned, then the kids helped me put away all of the toys in the playroom and the kitchen.
12:00-2:00 Naptime. While they slept, I wiped down the baseboards on the first floor, baked banana muffins, sauteed chicken cutlets and made a lentil salad for dinner. Folded laundry and started another load.
2:00 The girls woke up and had a snack. Then we went played for about an hour (tea party!) then grocery shopping.
4:30 Made chili garlic spinach and some buttered pasta for dinner, both girls helped.
5:00 Dinner. After dinner, the girls helped to clear the table, then I did the dishes while the 2 year old wiped down the table, and the 1 year old "swept" with her little broom. Then I vacuumed the first floor, the stairs, and the second floor with help from the 1 year old while the 2 year old read.
6:00 Bath time.
6:30 Reading time with both girls.
6:45 Bedtime for the 1 year old, then reading time with the 2 year old.
7:00 Bedtime for the 2 year old.
I did the whole house shuffle, making sure that everything is in its place, and cleaned up any leftover mess from the day. Mopped the kitchen floor. Gave the living room a quick dust, and then off duty by 8.
I do different small tasks every day; wiping the baseboards or walls, polishing the stainless appliances, washing the windows etc. They typically happen while the girls are napping, but sometimes I am just too beat to do that much and I crash while they nap. No, the oven is never spotless on the same day the windows are spotless, but they are good enough. And every day, pretty much regardless of what is going on, the whole house gets vacuumed, the kitchen and bathrooms are scrubbed and mopped, laundry gets done, and the house gets tidied at least twice.
6:30 Kids woke up. We cuddled on the couch, and I had my coffee while they watched tv.
7:00 Breakfast. Whole grain waffles and fresh blueberries. After breakfast, I cleaned up the kitchen while they played and intermittently helped me. Threw in a load of laundry, got them dressed, then took a shower and dressed myself.
8:00 2 mile walk followed by an hour at the playground. When we got home, I cleaned both bathrooms while the girls painted pumpkin shaped coffee filters to hang on the back door.
11:00 Lunch. Today was a cop-out lunch, and we had turkey and cheese rollups, cucumber slices, and cherry tomatoes. After lunch, I got the kitchen cleaned, then the kids helped me put away all of the toys in the playroom and the kitchen.
12:00-2:00 Naptime. While they slept, I wiped down the baseboards on the first floor, baked banana muffins, sauteed chicken cutlets and made a lentil salad for dinner. Folded laundry and started another load.
2:00 The girls woke up and had a snack. Then we went played for about an hour (tea party!) then grocery shopping.
4:30 Made chili garlic spinach and some buttered pasta for dinner, both girls helped.
5:00 Dinner. After dinner, the girls helped to clear the table, then I did the dishes while the 2 year old wiped down the table, and the 1 year old "swept" with her little broom. Then I vacuumed the first floor, the stairs, and the second floor with help from the 1 year old while the 2 year old read.
6:00 Bath time.
6:30 Reading time with both girls.
6:45 Bedtime for the 1 year old, then reading time with the 2 year old.
7:00 Bedtime for the 2 year old.
I did the whole house shuffle, making sure that everything is in its place, and cleaned up any leftover mess from the day. Mopped the kitchen floor. Gave the living room a quick dust, and then off duty by 8.
I do different small tasks every day; wiping the baseboards or walls, polishing the stainless appliances, washing the windows etc. They typically happen while the girls are napping, but sometimes I am just too beat to do that much and I crash while they nap. No, the oven is never spotless on the same day the windows are spotless, but they are good enough. And every day, pretty much regardless of what is going on, the whole house gets vacuumed, the kitchen and bathrooms are scrubbed and mopped, laundry gets done, and the house gets tidied at least twice.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Passing On Our Phobias
I have very few phobias, but randomly, I have a huge phobia about chewing gum. I know, weird. When the day comes that my daughters are old enough to ask for gum, I will let them have it without shuddering even though I am crying on the inside. Most of my being would love to tell them that gum is disgusting and never let them even try it, but that isn't fair to them. They will find plenty of things in this world that are disgusting or scary, and they don't need me to put my opinions on them.
This morning, I walked to the park with the girls and my two dogs. Normally, I tie the dogs up to a nice shady tree outside of the fence because dogs are not allowed (rightfully so) into the playground area, but today they were mowing the lawn and I didn't want them to get run over. It was either go home, or break the rules and tie them up inside the fence. I found a corner and tied them up to the fence post, then blocked them into the corner using my giganto double stroller. They were pretty much invisible, and unless someone moved my stroller out of the way and unhooked their leashes, they were completely contained. I should also point out that these are two fairly small dogs who are quiet and well behaved. Even if someone were to set them free, the dogs might move to find a sunnier spot, and then would lie down and go to sleep. I didn't bring two monsters to the playground, in other words. Also, we were the only ones there, so this seemed like no big deal.
A mom came in with her toddler, and promptly began making a big deal. She kept swooping the little boy away from the corner any time he would go over to try to see the dogs, and loudly announcing that he was terrified of dogs, and that it was unfair of anyone to bring dogs to a place where scared children might be. If that little boy were actually afraid of the dogs, I would have immediately left with the dogs, because, she was right about that. But he wasn't afraid. Not even a smidge. She was.
Today, that little boy was intrigued by the dogs, and kept trying to move the stroller to get in and pat them. But how long will that last? At some point, his mom's shrieks of fear upon seeing a dog are going to burrow into his brain, and he is most likely going to develop the same fear of dogs.
That is so unfair to do. I assume if that mom were to put some thought into this, she would recognize that she would prefer NOT to be afraid of dogs. I know I would prefer not to be afraid of gum. It kind of stinks to spend an entire semester of class nauseated in advance thinking that my knee might accidentally touch the underside of my desk where there is sure to be a stray piece of gum. I don't want my kids to feel the same way, so I keep my feelings to myself. Does that woman not see the correlation to her behavior and her son's feelings? Or is she really so selfish that she prefers him to be afraid of dogs too? I'm sure it makes it easier on her to not have to be grabbing his hand away from passing dogs, if he is instead shrieking and scampering as far away as possible.
Children will develop plenty of fears on their own, they don't need our help. What they do need is reassurance that we hear their fears, but that we are not afraid. When a loud clap of thunder happens, my girls automatically look at me, I do nothing different, and we continue what we are doing with no comment. We have no night lights in the house, and I have never once made a comment about the dark being any different than the light, so they don't see a difference either.
Now, as long as I don't ever have to take a tour of a chewing gum factory, we should be good.
This morning, I walked to the park with the girls and my two dogs. Normally, I tie the dogs up to a nice shady tree outside of the fence because dogs are not allowed (rightfully so) into the playground area, but today they were mowing the lawn and I didn't want them to get run over. It was either go home, or break the rules and tie them up inside the fence. I found a corner and tied them up to the fence post, then blocked them into the corner using my giganto double stroller. They were pretty much invisible, and unless someone moved my stroller out of the way and unhooked their leashes, they were completely contained. I should also point out that these are two fairly small dogs who are quiet and well behaved. Even if someone were to set them free, the dogs might move to find a sunnier spot, and then would lie down and go to sleep. I didn't bring two monsters to the playground, in other words. Also, we were the only ones there, so this seemed like no big deal.
A mom came in with her toddler, and promptly began making a big deal. She kept swooping the little boy away from the corner any time he would go over to try to see the dogs, and loudly announcing that he was terrified of dogs, and that it was unfair of anyone to bring dogs to a place where scared children might be. If that little boy were actually afraid of the dogs, I would have immediately left with the dogs, because, she was right about that. But he wasn't afraid. Not even a smidge. She was.
Today, that little boy was intrigued by the dogs, and kept trying to move the stroller to get in and pat them. But how long will that last? At some point, his mom's shrieks of fear upon seeing a dog are going to burrow into his brain, and he is most likely going to develop the same fear of dogs.
That is so unfair to do. I assume if that mom were to put some thought into this, she would recognize that she would prefer NOT to be afraid of dogs. I know I would prefer not to be afraid of gum. It kind of stinks to spend an entire semester of class nauseated in advance thinking that my knee might accidentally touch the underside of my desk where there is sure to be a stray piece of gum. I don't want my kids to feel the same way, so I keep my feelings to myself. Does that woman not see the correlation to her behavior and her son's feelings? Or is she really so selfish that she prefers him to be afraid of dogs too? I'm sure it makes it easier on her to not have to be grabbing his hand away from passing dogs, if he is instead shrieking and scampering as far away as possible.
Children will develop plenty of fears on their own, they don't need our help. What they do need is reassurance that we hear their fears, but that we are not afraid. When a loud clap of thunder happens, my girls automatically look at me, I do nothing different, and we continue what we are doing with no comment. We have no night lights in the house, and I have never once made a comment about the dark being any different than the light, so they don't see a difference either.
Now, as long as I don't ever have to take a tour of a chewing gum factory, we should be good.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Hello Again
I apologize for my absence, but my friends, I have been so tired, and pretty much every scrap of energy has been going to keeping my little world chugging along. When it comes to family or blogging, family is going to win every time!
There is something that has been nagging at my brain for a little while now, and after a conversation with my sister this morning, I think it is finally a formed enough thought to discuss. We saw a poster for a Mom to Mom group, which, based on the description, was basically a group for moms to get together and complain about how hard it is to be a mom, and support each other through our "trials." I re-read the poster expecting to see something I had previously missed, like, "Moms of sick children" or "Moms with cancer," but, no, this was just plain old ordinary moms, needing support for plain old ordinary mom things.
Well, huh.
I did not realize that being a mom was quite so rough.
Sure, there are moments, but really? Why on earth do ordinary moms need a support group? As my sister and I spoke, it was clear that she didn't have the answer, but thought it just as silly as I did.
Here's what popped into my head as we were talking. Just this week, I have heard story after story about moms who LIVE for their children, and the rest of their life is seriously suffering for it. These are women I know both online and in real life. A mom whose toddler doesn't care for his car seat or stroller, so she doesn't make him go in either unless she can bribe him into agreeing to it. Another mom who "appreciates" bad behavior because it shows how unique her child is. I could go on, but my blood pressure is rising just thinking about it.
These are the moms who need support groups I guess. Their lives are so hassled and hectic because their kids are in charge.
And then I read an article in a parenting magazine that was celebrating messy houses. Not messy houses when doing a special art project, or on a rainy day when making a blanket fort. Messy houses in general. A messy house does not equal a happy child, nor does a clean house equal an ignored child. A good mom equals a happy child. And a happy child equals a mom who has earned the right to raise a glass of wine to herself in pride at what she has accomplished.
Again, I say, I'm not perfect, and neither are my kids. My daughters have certainly had tantrums in public. I have certainly caved because I was too tired to fight something insignificant. But in general, my kids are happy, respectful little people. They are NICE people. They think I'm nice too (best compliment ever.) I work really hard to keep my house clean because it sends a message to them that they need to respect their environment, and, the environment as a whole. They say "God bless you" when a stranger sneezes in public. They say "Good morning" when we walk by someone in the park. They say "Please" and "Thank you" to the waitress. They set the table, and clean up their toys when they are done playing. If they see a crayon on the ground, sure, they might color on the walls with it, but more likely than not, they will bring it to me and ask for paper, because they respect their home. They are not robots. Tonight they dumped out my folded laundry from the basket and were pushing each other around my bedroom in it, but A) they dumped it fairly neatly, and B) they had a blast, so I was laughing just as much as them.
It is pretty easy to get caught in the landslide of self pity, when it is a landslide of your creating. When you let your life be controlled by a diaper wearing tyrant, it probably sucks to be you. When you live in harmony with a sweet child who respects you and whom you respect, there is no need for a support group. Life doesn't get any better.
There is something that has been nagging at my brain for a little while now, and after a conversation with my sister this morning, I think it is finally a formed enough thought to discuss. We saw a poster for a Mom to Mom group, which, based on the description, was basically a group for moms to get together and complain about how hard it is to be a mom, and support each other through our "trials." I re-read the poster expecting to see something I had previously missed, like, "Moms of sick children" or "Moms with cancer," but, no, this was just plain old ordinary moms, needing support for plain old ordinary mom things.
Well, huh.
I did not realize that being a mom was quite so rough.
Sure, there are moments, but really? Why on earth do ordinary moms need a support group? As my sister and I spoke, it was clear that she didn't have the answer, but thought it just as silly as I did.
Here's what popped into my head as we were talking. Just this week, I have heard story after story about moms who LIVE for their children, and the rest of their life is seriously suffering for it. These are women I know both online and in real life. A mom whose toddler doesn't care for his car seat or stroller, so she doesn't make him go in either unless she can bribe him into agreeing to it. Another mom who "appreciates" bad behavior because it shows how unique her child is. I could go on, but my blood pressure is rising just thinking about it.
These are the moms who need support groups I guess. Their lives are so hassled and hectic because their kids are in charge.
And then I read an article in a parenting magazine that was celebrating messy houses. Not messy houses when doing a special art project, or on a rainy day when making a blanket fort. Messy houses in general. A messy house does not equal a happy child, nor does a clean house equal an ignored child. A good mom equals a happy child. And a happy child equals a mom who has earned the right to raise a glass of wine to herself in pride at what she has accomplished.
Again, I say, I'm not perfect, and neither are my kids. My daughters have certainly had tantrums in public. I have certainly caved because I was too tired to fight something insignificant. But in general, my kids are happy, respectful little people. They are NICE people. They think I'm nice too (best compliment ever.) I work really hard to keep my house clean because it sends a message to them that they need to respect their environment, and, the environment as a whole. They say "God bless you" when a stranger sneezes in public. They say "Good morning" when we walk by someone in the park. They say "Please" and "Thank you" to the waitress. They set the table, and clean up their toys when they are done playing. If they see a crayon on the ground, sure, they might color on the walls with it, but more likely than not, they will bring it to me and ask for paper, because they respect their home. They are not robots. Tonight they dumped out my folded laundry from the basket and were pushing each other around my bedroom in it, but A) they dumped it fairly neatly, and B) they had a blast, so I was laughing just as much as them.
It is pretty easy to get caught in the landslide of self pity, when it is a landslide of your creating. When you let your life be controlled by a diaper wearing tyrant, it probably sucks to be you. When you live in harmony with a sweet child who respects you and whom you respect, there is no need for a support group. Life doesn't get any better.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Discipline or a lesson?
This morning my daughter finished eating breakfast, and threw the remnants of her plum on the floor. This was the first time I've seen her do this, and it was blatantly disrespectful. As she was sliding off of her chair, I asked her politely to please pick up her plum and throw it away. She replied "Nope, you do it," as she ran off. My options at that point became limited. She is 2, and while I could have man handled her into physically throwing away that plum, that wouldn't have really taught her much of a lesson other than the fact that I am stronger than her. I could have ignored it, and simply thrown the plum away, but I don't ever tolerate disrespect, and believe that disrespect births disrespect.
I walked into the playroom where she had escaped to, and informed her that she would play with no toys, or watch no television until she threw her plum away. I quietly added that it was not nice of her to make an intentional mess for me to clean. She immediately went to the cabinet where the toys were, and I gently moved her away and sat in front of the cabinet so she couldn't open it.
She stood there for a minute, clearly heating up. "I watch tv?"
"No. No toys, no tv until you throw the plum away."
She stayed still for awhile, clearly debating this in her mind. Minutes ticked by and she didn't move. Then she started crying.
"I want Sofia The First."
I didn't say anything. She cried for a few more minutes and then went into the kitchen to throw the plum away. Before she came back into the playroom, I had Sofia The First booted up on the tv.
"Thank you for making a good decision. I'm proud of you," and I gave her a hug.
I don't feel as though she was punished, I feel as though she had a lesson. I hope it was a successful lesson, but I won't know that until it happens again. What I hope she took from this situation is that she has to clean up her mess, that if I ask her to do something, she is expected to do it, and most importantly I hope that she was reminded that she needs to respect me. That throwing something on the floor for me to clean up is not ok because it is unkind. I hope above all things that my children learn kindness and respect, and I hope this gentle lesson furthered her along the path of both kindness and respect.
I walked into the playroom where she had escaped to, and informed her that she would play with no toys, or watch no television until she threw her plum away. I quietly added that it was not nice of her to make an intentional mess for me to clean. She immediately went to the cabinet where the toys were, and I gently moved her away and sat in front of the cabinet so she couldn't open it.
She stood there for a minute, clearly heating up. "I watch tv?"
"No. No toys, no tv until you throw the plum away."
She stayed still for awhile, clearly debating this in her mind. Minutes ticked by and she didn't move. Then she started crying.
"I want Sofia The First."
I didn't say anything. She cried for a few more minutes and then went into the kitchen to throw the plum away. Before she came back into the playroom, I had Sofia The First booted up on the tv.
"Thank you for making a good decision. I'm proud of you," and I gave her a hug.
I don't feel as though she was punished, I feel as though she had a lesson. I hope it was a successful lesson, but I won't know that until it happens again. What I hope she took from this situation is that she has to clean up her mess, that if I ask her to do something, she is expected to do it, and most importantly I hope that she was reminded that she needs to respect me. That throwing something on the floor for me to clean up is not ok because it is unkind. I hope above all things that my children learn kindness and respect, and I hope this gentle lesson furthered her along the path of both kindness and respect.
Friday, July 26, 2013
The Long Game
One of the problems with my parenting method is that I tend to take a long game view of my children and their behaviors. This means that I hope I am instilling good behaviors into them through modeling, positive reinforcement, and gentle corrections before hand, rather than constantly admonishing them after the fact. This also means that you have no idea if what you are doing is actually working, until it works...or doesn't. I believe that behaviors that are created this way become more deeply engrained, and things such as a fuss-free bed time routine and good meal manners have certainly come about this way for us.
A key behavior that I constantly stress to my kids is being kind to each other. We talk about kindness all the time. Seriously. I don't think an hour goes by that I don't use the word "kind" to them. I praise the slightest little kindness as though it were huge. "That was SO nice of you to be careful when you were walking by your little sister so you didn't knock her over. You are such a KIND person." "Would you please put food in the dog bowls? That would be very kind of you." "I think you must be very tired, because yelling at the dog wasn't very kind, and isn't the way you usually behave." I just keep hoping that the concept of "kind" becomes so a part of them that we have a lot more of the praise and very little of the correcting.
I also stress sharing in the same way. Huge praise when it happens, and constant attempts to set them up for success, but you know how sharing goes with two toddlers. Yeah, right. Tonight, my older daughter was playing with a plastic fork. She set it down for a moment, and the baby made a beeline for it. The toddler turned around, saw the baby picking it up, and ran over to grab it away. I said nothing. I wanted to know how they would work it out.
When the baby just stood there looking sad, the toddler immediately put the fork back in her hand and said "Here, you can use this. I love you much," and the baby hugged her sister.
Be still my mama heart. It worked! I'm sure tomorrow they will have a set back or twenty, but I can see that something is clicking in the quest for kindness.
A key behavior that I constantly stress to my kids is being kind to each other. We talk about kindness all the time. Seriously. I don't think an hour goes by that I don't use the word "kind" to them. I praise the slightest little kindness as though it were huge. "That was SO nice of you to be careful when you were walking by your little sister so you didn't knock her over. You are such a KIND person." "Would you please put food in the dog bowls? That would be very kind of you." "I think you must be very tired, because yelling at the dog wasn't very kind, and isn't the way you usually behave." I just keep hoping that the concept of "kind" becomes so a part of them that we have a lot more of the praise and very little of the correcting.
I also stress sharing in the same way. Huge praise when it happens, and constant attempts to set them up for success, but you know how sharing goes with two toddlers. Yeah, right. Tonight, my older daughter was playing with a plastic fork. She set it down for a moment, and the baby made a beeline for it. The toddler turned around, saw the baby picking it up, and ran over to grab it away. I said nothing. I wanted to know how they would work it out.
When the baby just stood there looking sad, the toddler immediately put the fork back in her hand and said "Here, you can use this. I love you much," and the baby hugged her sister.
Be still my mama heart. It worked! I'm sure tomorrow they will have a set back or twenty, but I can see that something is clicking in the quest for kindness.
Monday, July 22, 2013
How did they do it?
It is 7:13, my babies are both sleeping peacefully in their beds, and I have zero gas left in the tank of life. I am sitting on the couch, and I just know that my arse is spreading as we speak because I just devoured a bagel with extra butter instead of the salad I had made for myself earlier. I am spent. And what do I have to show for it? Not much, truthfully.
The house is in a bit of a state, we had leftovers for lunch and dinner, and I haven't even showered yet today. The kids were happy and saw very little tv today, so that's a win, but here's the problem...getting my house in order tonight, if I manage to do so doesn't change anything. I will gather my energy, scrub the house down, prep a nutritious breakfast, lunch, and dinner for tomorrow. I will shower, and maybe even shave my legs. Maybe. And then tomorrow, it happens all over again. Tomorrow night I will put the kids to bed and look around the house which will again be in a bit of a state.
Depending on how old you are, you may remember your mother, or your grandmother, or perhaps even your great-grandmother's house. You may remember gleaming windows, a definitive lack of toilet bowl rings, clean shelves inside of the refrigerator, spotless baseboards. Or maybe you remember none of that specifically, and just recall a sense of perfection and peace when you entered her home. You surely remember the smell of the cookies she always baked for you, or that chicken dish that only she could make just so. You do remember that, right? Maybe it wasn't your mom, or grandma, but an elderly relative. Either way, I'm sure you knew a woman who was the mistress of her domain, and not a single stray carper fiber was going to defy her.
How the hell did those women do it?
Oh. Right. They were a whole lot less lazy than we are. They didn't spend time watching tv, or goofing around on Facebook. They woke up before their husband, made the coffee and breakfast, and once they got their families successfully out the door, they got to work. Real work, not the halfhearted we do aided by all of our gadgets and products. They cooked, cleaned, mended, and cared for the babies still at home. They made time for the things that were important, like their friends, and those friendships were more valuable than their breath.
They put their family first.
They are how I find the energy to get my heinie off of the couch and get on my knees to scrub the tub. Out of sheer respect for my forebears, I will not fall into the quagmire of laziness. I will stay off of Pinterest until behind the toilet has been sanitized. I will be a housewife that my grandmother would be proud of. I will say "I am a housewife" with pride, because it MEANS something. It means that I am a part of a long tradition of hard work and dedication to one's family.
The house is in a bit of a state, we had leftovers for lunch and dinner, and I haven't even showered yet today. The kids were happy and saw very little tv today, so that's a win, but here's the problem...getting my house in order tonight, if I manage to do so doesn't change anything. I will gather my energy, scrub the house down, prep a nutritious breakfast, lunch, and dinner for tomorrow. I will shower, and maybe even shave my legs. Maybe. And then tomorrow, it happens all over again. Tomorrow night I will put the kids to bed and look around the house which will again be in a bit of a state.
Depending on how old you are, you may remember your mother, or your grandmother, or perhaps even your great-grandmother's house. You may remember gleaming windows, a definitive lack of toilet bowl rings, clean shelves inside of the refrigerator, spotless baseboards. Or maybe you remember none of that specifically, and just recall a sense of perfection and peace when you entered her home. You surely remember the smell of the cookies she always baked for you, or that chicken dish that only she could make just so. You do remember that, right? Maybe it wasn't your mom, or grandma, but an elderly relative. Either way, I'm sure you knew a woman who was the mistress of her domain, and not a single stray carper fiber was going to defy her.
How the hell did those women do it?
Oh. Right. They were a whole lot less lazy than we are. They didn't spend time watching tv, or goofing around on Facebook. They woke up before their husband, made the coffee and breakfast, and once they got their families successfully out the door, they got to work. Real work, not the halfhearted we do aided by all of our gadgets and products. They cooked, cleaned, mended, and cared for the babies still at home. They made time for the things that were important, like their friends, and those friendships were more valuable than their breath.
They put their family first.
They are how I find the energy to get my heinie off of the couch and get on my knees to scrub the tub. Out of sheer respect for my forebears, I will not fall into the quagmire of laziness. I will stay off of Pinterest until behind the toilet has been sanitized. I will be a housewife that my grandmother would be proud of. I will say "I am a housewife" with pride, because it MEANS something. It means that I am a part of a long tradition of hard work and dedication to one's family.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
I'm Falling Apart, But My Family Isn't. Or, How Mama Got Her Groove Back.
My husband likes to joke that I'm ALWAYS hurt or sick. It is starting to feel like he's right. But, there may be a coming explanation for my constant injuries.
This has been a pretty wild week. On Monday, I started having some chest pain, but thought nothing of it, because I often get chest pain and it goes away as mysteriously as it began. By Tuesday night, it had gotten worse, and I was getting dizzy, so my husband took me to the hospital. They couldn't find anything wrong, but based on my history of blood clots, they assumed that I had a blood clot in my lungs, and had me follow up with my hematologist.
My hematologist was on vacation, and the covering hematologist basically told me I was wasting his time, and that there was no way I had a clot if all of the tests were negative. I'm not entirely sure why he was such a jerk. I didn't just wander in off the streets looking for a Lovenox fix; I was sent by another doctor who was concerned about my history and didn't want to miss anything. Moving on (though still irritated) I was sent to my primary care doctor.
That was another huge cluster. The office had no power, but the amazing nurse practioner turned into a Jack Russell Terrier on the hunt for a rodent, and was figuring this out by flash light if she had to. She booked me appointments for an echocardiogram, as well as a cardiologist consult, and also recommended I start Prilosec just in case it was something silly like heart burn. Heart burn sounded pretty good to me, so I left with my fingers crossed that this was just really bad heart burn. Though, to be blunt, I knew it wasn't, because heart burn doesn't typically leave people dizzy and short of breath.
That night, she called me, and told me that she had a potential cause of this pain; I had a fracture on one of my vertebrae in roughly the same area. This sounded like great news at first, because fractures heal. But then I realized that with no recent falls, this fracture was probably caused by osteoporosis. And I'm only 34 years old.
That was a total bummer. And more so of a bummer when my well-meaning husband pointed out that I need to start doing the things I want to do before I end up in too much pain to function. But that statement shocked me into an epiphany. Maybe he's right, but I'm not going to live that way. I'm going to do all of the things I want because I want to share those experiences with my husband and babies, not out of fear of not being able to do them next year.
This morning, I brought my little ladies to a play date with two lovely women that I went to grade school with, and their charming little men. It was a blast. It hurt like a bastard, but it was worth every minute. And tonight, I told everyone that someone else was here helping me, and I did it myself. I can't remember the last time I've laughed so hard, or enjoyed life so much. Tonight was a blessing. Yes, it hurt, again, like a bastard, but I wouldn't trade it for all the healthy bones in the world.
There are some things I will do whether or not I have osteoporosis; I will continue to lose weight. I will do this because I want to set a healthy example for my girls, but also because I want every bite that goes into my mouth to be an opportunity for healing and nutrition. I will go back to Bikram yoga as soon as my knee and back permit, and the cardiologist clears me. I will start swimming again. I will start walking again. I will pursue a healthy body because I love my family, but also because I love myself. I will pursue a healthy mind for the same reason.
I will not permit my family to fall apart again, even if my body disintegrates bit by bit. This is MY family, and MY life.
This has been a pretty wild week. On Monday, I started having some chest pain, but thought nothing of it, because I often get chest pain and it goes away as mysteriously as it began. By Tuesday night, it had gotten worse, and I was getting dizzy, so my husband took me to the hospital. They couldn't find anything wrong, but based on my history of blood clots, they assumed that I had a blood clot in my lungs, and had me follow up with my hematologist.
My hematologist was on vacation, and the covering hematologist basically told me I was wasting his time, and that there was no way I had a clot if all of the tests were negative. I'm not entirely sure why he was such a jerk. I didn't just wander in off the streets looking for a Lovenox fix; I was sent by another doctor who was concerned about my history and didn't want to miss anything. Moving on (though still irritated) I was sent to my primary care doctor.
That was another huge cluster. The office had no power, but the amazing nurse practioner turned into a Jack Russell Terrier on the hunt for a rodent, and was figuring this out by flash light if she had to. She booked me appointments for an echocardiogram, as well as a cardiologist consult, and also recommended I start Prilosec just in case it was something silly like heart burn. Heart burn sounded pretty good to me, so I left with my fingers crossed that this was just really bad heart burn. Though, to be blunt, I knew it wasn't, because heart burn doesn't typically leave people dizzy and short of breath.
That night, she called me, and told me that she had a potential cause of this pain; I had a fracture on one of my vertebrae in roughly the same area. This sounded like great news at first, because fractures heal. But then I realized that with no recent falls, this fracture was probably caused by osteoporosis. And I'm only 34 years old.
That was a total bummer. And more so of a bummer when my well-meaning husband pointed out that I need to start doing the things I want to do before I end up in too much pain to function. But that statement shocked me into an epiphany. Maybe he's right, but I'm not going to live that way. I'm going to do all of the things I want because I want to share those experiences with my husband and babies, not out of fear of not being able to do them next year.
This morning, I brought my little ladies to a play date with two lovely women that I went to grade school with, and their charming little men. It was a blast. It hurt like a bastard, but it was worth every minute. And tonight, I told everyone that someone else was here helping me, and I did it myself. I can't remember the last time I've laughed so hard, or enjoyed life so much. Tonight was a blessing. Yes, it hurt, again, like a bastard, but I wouldn't trade it for all the healthy bones in the world.
There are some things I will do whether or not I have osteoporosis; I will continue to lose weight. I will do this because I want to set a healthy example for my girls, but also because I want every bite that goes into my mouth to be an opportunity for healing and nutrition. I will go back to Bikram yoga as soon as my knee and back permit, and the cardiologist clears me. I will start swimming again. I will start walking again. I will pursue a healthy body because I love my family, but also because I love myself. I will pursue a healthy mind for the same reason.
I will not permit my family to fall apart again, even if my body disintegrates bit by bit. This is MY family, and MY life.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Birth is birth.
http://shine.yahoo.com/parenting/why-love-c-section-scar-150400581.html
^ YES!
I have had two c sections, and I am DAMN proud of it. I am so sick of the guilt and guilting that goes along with c section births. To begin with, the way I gave birth does NOT affect you, unlike, say, the decision whether or not to vaccinate a child. That decision happens to affect everyone in our society, so therefore, everyone is entitled to an opinion on your decision not to vaccinate. Accept that, and move on.
Not that it matters, but both of my sections were life saving; the first was to save my daughter's life, and the second was because the doctor felt very strongly that I was a high risk for uterine rupture based on many factors, and according to the surgeon who did the procedure, he was absolutely right. I would probably have blown like a geyser.
I will admit, I do regret not having had that moment of "Oh! I'm in labor!" Or that moment of "Push! Push!" But I am alive, and I have two healthy, beautiful little girls to show for it, so when women give me the pity face when they hear I had a couple of c sections, I just don't get it.
There are websites upon websites that are dedicated to helping women to "fight" against medical intervention during birth, and particularly against c sections. They see c sections as unnecessary interventions performed by doctors who lose patience with the poor, long-laboring woman, and just haul off and slice that kid right out, to the eternal detriment of child and mother. That DOES sound bad! Oh my. Either that, or they accuse women who've had c sections as lazy quitters who did it for vanity reasons. Unless I am considering a career change, far more people are likely to see my stomach than my vagina, so there's that.
I'd like to know what fantasy-land these women are living in. This is almost as bad as those wackadoos who talk about "birth rape." Get over yourselves. If you think you were "raped" by your birthing experience, I'd like to ask you quite seriously if you have ever really had anything bad happen to you, because it seems as though your definition of trauma is pretty fucked up.
I'd also like to point out that anything that happens to a woman in that birthing room is done with her consent. They may feel like they were "bullied" into a section or an epidural, but nonetheless, it was done with their consent unless they were quite literally dying and the doctor did what needed to be done whether they liked it or not. And even still, he probably tried damn hard to explain it to them and get consent before deciding that they were too addled from the dying and getting the consent from the father or partner.
But I digress. Two c sections, a healthy mama and two healthy babies. Why would anyone judge that? Why am I to be pitied? I really want to know. Why would anyone tell me that my daughter's near death experience was CAUSED by medicine, not solved by it? Here's what I know. Had I been stubborn and refused the section, my daughter would be dead. She was blue and it took about 5 minutes for them to get her breathing on her own. Had I refused the second section, I'd probably be dead, likely along with my daughter unless someone was able to rush me to an OR and get her cut out in time.
Do I think that there are too many sections happening in this country? Yes, probably. But I also think that it is none of my business. It doesn't affect me. We can play the trickle down game and say that it affects me because of insurance deductibles and blah blah blah, but that money all ends up back in the economy in one way or another, so I don't buy that argument. If, at the end of each birth, there is a healthy mama and baby, it isn't my business.
^ YES!
I have had two c sections, and I am DAMN proud of it. I am so sick of the guilt and guilting that goes along with c section births. To begin with, the way I gave birth does NOT affect you, unlike, say, the decision whether or not to vaccinate a child. That decision happens to affect everyone in our society, so therefore, everyone is entitled to an opinion on your decision not to vaccinate. Accept that, and move on.
Not that it matters, but both of my sections were life saving; the first was to save my daughter's life, and the second was because the doctor felt very strongly that I was a high risk for uterine rupture based on many factors, and according to the surgeon who did the procedure, he was absolutely right. I would probably have blown like a geyser.
I will admit, I do regret not having had that moment of "Oh! I'm in labor!" Or that moment of "Push! Push!" But I am alive, and I have two healthy, beautiful little girls to show for it, so when women give me the pity face when they hear I had a couple of c sections, I just don't get it.
There are websites upon websites that are dedicated to helping women to "fight" against medical intervention during birth, and particularly against c sections. They see c sections as unnecessary interventions performed by doctors who lose patience with the poor, long-laboring woman, and just haul off and slice that kid right out, to the eternal detriment of child and mother. That DOES sound bad! Oh my. Either that, or they accuse women who've had c sections as lazy quitters who did it for vanity reasons. Unless I am considering a career change, far more people are likely to see my stomach than my vagina, so there's that.
I'd like to know what fantasy-land these women are living in. This is almost as bad as those wackadoos who talk about "birth rape." Get over yourselves. If you think you were "raped" by your birthing experience, I'd like to ask you quite seriously if you have ever really had anything bad happen to you, because it seems as though your definition of trauma is pretty fucked up.
I'd also like to point out that anything that happens to a woman in that birthing room is done with her consent. They may feel like they were "bullied" into a section or an epidural, but nonetheless, it was done with their consent unless they were quite literally dying and the doctor did what needed to be done whether they liked it or not. And even still, he probably tried damn hard to explain it to them and get consent before deciding that they were too addled from the dying and getting the consent from the father or partner.
But I digress. Two c sections, a healthy mama and two healthy babies. Why would anyone judge that? Why am I to be pitied? I really want to know. Why would anyone tell me that my daughter's near death experience was CAUSED by medicine, not solved by it? Here's what I know. Had I been stubborn and refused the section, my daughter would be dead. She was blue and it took about 5 minutes for them to get her breathing on her own. Had I refused the second section, I'd probably be dead, likely along with my daughter unless someone was able to rush me to an OR and get her cut out in time.
Do I think that there are too many sections happening in this country? Yes, probably. But I also think that it is none of my business. It doesn't affect me. We can play the trickle down game and say that it affects me because of insurance deductibles and blah blah blah, but that money all ends up back in the economy in one way or another, so I don't buy that argument. If, at the end of each birth, there is a healthy mama and baby, it isn't my business.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
A Proud Moment
We went shoe shopping today, and my normally reserved toddler apparently decided to drop a love bomb on a random woman. She was in her sixties, an employee of the shoe store, and a fairly nondescript person. As we walked by her, she smiled at my girls, and my toddler stopped in her tracks and turned to face her.
"You have a sparkle shirt! Thats so pretty," she said, staring at her.
"Oh my, thank you so much!" The woman's smile grew.
"Oh wow, you have buttons on you shoes!"
The woman looked at me, and made all sorts of cooing noises about my little girl and how sweet she was, but my girlie was just getting started.
"You have a heart neckie! (necklace) I love it! Oh, you face is bootiful! I like you yellow hair!"
This woman was melting faster than chocolate in August.
The woman's manager called her to help someone, and she drifted away unwillingly, as my little friend shouted "Goodbye! Pleased to met you!"
I'm not sure what drove my daughter to do this. She has never ever done this, even to people she knows and loves. This was a completely ordinary woman. When I got home and was telling my husband this story, he pointed out that our little girl is particularly perceptive and sensitive, and probably felt as though this woman needed this for some reason. I'd like to think so. It would be nice to think that my baby was that kind. I hope that woman smiled for the rest of the day.
"You have a sparkle shirt! Thats so pretty," she said, staring at her.
"Oh my, thank you so much!" The woman's smile grew.
"Oh wow, you have buttons on you shoes!"
The woman looked at me, and made all sorts of cooing noises about my little girl and how sweet she was, but my girlie was just getting started.
"You have a heart neckie! (necklace) I love it! Oh, you face is bootiful! I like you yellow hair!"
This woman was melting faster than chocolate in August.
The woman's manager called her to help someone, and she drifted away unwillingly, as my little friend shouted "Goodbye! Pleased to met you!"
I'm not sure what drove my daughter to do this. She has never ever done this, even to people she knows and loves. This was a completely ordinary woman. When I got home and was telling my husband this story, he pointed out that our little girl is particularly perceptive and sensitive, and probably felt as though this woman needed this for some reason. I'd like to think so. It would be nice to think that my baby was that kind. I hope that woman smiled for the rest of the day.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Falling Apart
My family is unraveling at the moment. I had knee surgery on Friday after a long 5 months of waiting. My knee was in pretty rough shape, and will likely require one more surgery to make it right, but in the meantime, this will hopefully improve the pain to tolerable. While I am out of commission, my family is kind of falling to pieces.
My husband is trying to be the mom, and is drowning in the housework. He cannot for the life of him figure out how to get anything done while holding a child or how to redirect them to go play independently, so he is either holding somebody OR getting something done. Which, as you moms know, is a recipe to get nothing done.
My oldest daughter is attaching herself to me like a limpet. She won't let me out of her sight without thinking that I'm leaving. If someone tries to take her away from me, she screams hysterically. And the amount of worrying over me that she is doing is really sad to see in a two year old. After I put ice on, she touches my knee and tells me it is too cold and I need a blankie for it. If I walk with one crutch instead of two, she comes flying after me with the other. Where is my brace? Put a pillow under it while I'm sitting. Go sit down. She even "fixes" it with cream because she is pretty sure that is what the doctor does whenever I have an appointment. She rubs cream all over my leg while adorably seriously saying "There, that's better. I you doctor, I make you better. I fix." Yes, incredibly cute, but way too heavy for a two year old.
And the baby. Well, she is taking this hard. When I was pregnant with her, I was in and out of the hospital for a few months. My older daughter would be very cool to me when I came home, and attach herself to whoever had been caring for her. The baby is doing the same, which is predictable because she is the same age as my older daughter was. It doesn't hurt my feelings. I understand why she is doing it, and that it is a normal reaction from a one year old when there is this kind of upheaval in her world. In a week or two, life will be back to normal, and we'll be back in our groove. What pisses me off is the way certain other people are reacting to this behavior of hers. There is some barely contained gloating which makes me want to fly off the handle. I can't say any more about that, but oh, I want to. I even typed it out, then deleted it. And then typed it out again, then deleted it again.
Both of my girls have also been behaving pretty badly in general. Their dad is at a loss, because he is having to deal with it, and he doesn't really understand that this is reactive behavior, and while it needs to be addressed, it doesn't REALLY need to be addressed all that strongly. It will go away when life goes back to normal. He is upset, they are upset, I am upset. This is our life right now.
My husband is trying to be the mom, and is drowning in the housework. He cannot for the life of him figure out how to get anything done while holding a child or how to redirect them to go play independently, so he is either holding somebody OR getting something done. Which, as you moms know, is a recipe to get nothing done.
My oldest daughter is attaching herself to me like a limpet. She won't let me out of her sight without thinking that I'm leaving. If someone tries to take her away from me, she screams hysterically. And the amount of worrying over me that she is doing is really sad to see in a two year old. After I put ice on, she touches my knee and tells me it is too cold and I need a blankie for it. If I walk with one crutch instead of two, she comes flying after me with the other. Where is my brace? Put a pillow under it while I'm sitting. Go sit down. She even "fixes" it with cream because she is pretty sure that is what the doctor does whenever I have an appointment. She rubs cream all over my leg while adorably seriously saying "There, that's better. I you doctor, I make you better. I fix." Yes, incredibly cute, but way too heavy for a two year old.
And the baby. Well, she is taking this hard. When I was pregnant with her, I was in and out of the hospital for a few months. My older daughter would be very cool to me when I came home, and attach herself to whoever had been caring for her. The baby is doing the same, which is predictable because she is the same age as my older daughter was. It doesn't hurt my feelings. I understand why she is doing it, and that it is a normal reaction from a one year old when there is this kind of upheaval in her world. In a week or two, life will be back to normal, and we'll be back in our groove. What pisses me off is the way certain other people are reacting to this behavior of hers. There is some barely contained gloating which makes me want to fly off the handle. I can't say any more about that, but oh, I want to. I even typed it out, then deleted it. And then typed it out again, then deleted it again.
Both of my girls have also been behaving pretty badly in general. Their dad is at a loss, because he is having to deal with it, and he doesn't really understand that this is reactive behavior, and while it needs to be addressed, it doesn't REALLY need to be addressed all that strongly. It will go away when life goes back to normal. He is upset, they are upset, I am upset. This is our life right now.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Either be the adult, or quit complaining.
I'm part of several moms groups, and a few of my groups have a few moms who complain about their children's behavior, but don't seem willing or capable of making the changes necessary to help their kid. Case in point. Your toddler isn't sleeping. You will do "anything" except for let her cry. Why? What is so bad about a child having to cry at some point? A toddler isn't capable of full reasoning, and you will not be able to explain to her that sleep is important. Your options are to soothe her constantly, or let her cry. It is fine if you opt to soothe her into oblivion, but then don't complain about it, for Pete's sake!
I read this over and over again, whether it be about sleeping, or behavior. Either grow up and fix it, or accept that you live with a tyrant and you are ok with that. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. My children are not perfect. They test boundaries constantly. I had to haul my two year old out of a store over my shoulder the other day because she was being a serious turd, but the next time we went to a store, she was delightful. She tested, and discovered the answer. Problem solved.
My method is not acceptable to everyone. Some find it too lenient because I neither raise my voice or raise my hand to my children. Some find it too harsh because I demand certain behaviors and don't tolerate any less. It works for me. What you do should work for you too, and if it doesn't, consider changing it. I'm not saying to do what I do, but if you are unhappy with your results, change the method.
I read this over and over again, whether it be about sleeping, or behavior. Either grow up and fix it, or accept that you live with a tyrant and you are ok with that. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. My children are not perfect. They test boundaries constantly. I had to haul my two year old out of a store over my shoulder the other day because she was being a serious turd, but the next time we went to a store, she was delightful. She tested, and discovered the answer. Problem solved.
My method is not acceptable to everyone. Some find it too lenient because I neither raise my voice or raise my hand to my children. Some find it too harsh because I demand certain behaviors and don't tolerate any less. It works for me. What you do should work for you too, and if it doesn't, consider changing it. I'm not saying to do what I do, but if you are unhappy with your results, change the method.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
The House Purge
We moved into our new house about six months ago, and about four months ago I re-injured my knee to the point of being unable to walk safely down the stairs into the basement. As I organized the rest of the house, I packed up things we didn't need and had my husband bring them downstairs to join the many many boxes that had yet to be unpacked from the move. Well, yesterday we had a laundry emergency so I cautiously made my way downstairs to find the basement packed floor to ceiling with boxes. It was bad. It looked like a hoarder's house. It was embarrassing.
While the kids were napping, I began to go through these boxes, ruthlessly making piles to give away or throw away. I decided that the only boxes permitted in the basement would be seasonal clothing and holiday stuff. Any decorations that we had in our old house that would not work here had to go. Personal things that I kept as keepsakes had to go unless they could be displayed. If it wasn't something useful, it wasn't something we could keep.
I am a very emotional, sentimental person, so this wasn't easy to do, but seriously, what am I going to do with the baby's first shoes? Frame them? I'm just not that kind of girl, so into the donation pile they went.
I made a good dent, but definitely didn't finish going through all of the boxes. With knee surgery on my knee looming in the next few weeks, I decided to set myself a goal of unpacking one box during nap time, and one box after they go to bed at night. This seems reasonable and manageable, and something that I wish I had done right when we moved in as I would be long since done by now.
Since my injury, I've been slowly chugging along in the rest of the house, purging purging purging, so there are no unused items hanging about anywhere but the basement, and finishing that is going to feel SO good.
I'd like to invite you to join me in a house purge. You will feel so refreshed by it, I promise. And as an added bonus it will make your daily housework take a lot less time. To get you started, here is a sample 30 day roadmap for your house purge. Enjoy! And don't forget, as you clean out one area, clean it up and organize what is left! For one month, commit to spend an hour on this each day, unless you are really really having fun and want to do more :-)
Day One - Mom's closet and dresser. Remove all seasonal clothes, and place them neatly into a box. Only pack items that fit, are in good condition, and you know you will use. Otherwise, toss it or donate it. Label the box completely, and store it.
Day Two - Dad's closet and dresser. Do the same as you did in Mom's closet.
Day Three - Kid One's room. Do the same as you did in Mom's closet. Place a paper bag on the floor of your child's closet for outgrown items, and in the future, immediately place outgrown items in there for donation or storage for hand me downs.
Day Four - Kid Two's closet and dresser. Do the same as you did in Kid One's room.
Day Five - Linen closets. Remove all stained, ripped, excess, or not frequently used towels, blankets, and sheets, and donate them to a homeless shelter or animal shelter. Keep three sets of sheets for each adult/teenage bed, and five sets of sheets per child (to have extras in case of accidents.)
Day Six - Bathrooms. Remove all expired or unused items from the medicine cabinets and under the sink. Be ruthless when going through your makeup and hair care products. If you don't use it daily, don't keep it! Makeup should be replaced something like every six months, so chances are you need to throw pretty much everything away and start over.
Day Seven - Toys. This would be a good day to get the kids out of the house so they don't see this. My kids are too young to remember if something is gone, but they would sure get upset if they saw something going into the trash. Get rid of anything that is broken, isn't age appropriate, or isn't loved. A lot of donation places won't accept used toys, so you might need to call around. If not, try to give them to a friend or family member. Separate out 1/3 of the remaining toys and put them into storage. Once a week, rotate those toys in, and store another 1/3 of the toys. This will keep your kids playing with what they have.
Day Eight - Kitchen. Oh my, this is one of the areas you weren't looking forward to tackling I bet. But don't worry, you get two days for this one! How many pots and pans do you really need? I can't answer that for you, but probably not nearly as many as you have, and ditto for serving platters and utensils. Get rid of them!!! Dump your junk drawer! Vases? Two, maybe three. Toss ripped and stained dish towels and place mats. Only keep what you use and love. Don't forget to wipe down inside the cabinets and drawers as you go, saving yourself time later!
Day Ten - Living room. This should be a nice easy day after the kitchen fiasco. Sift through your DVDs and donate or sell anything you don't watch. This might be a nice time to take down your curtains or blinds and wash them.
Day Eleven - Garage. Once again, you get a few days for this one. Let's say three. Pay special attention to items you are storing that may be hazardous, and dispose of them properly. Many towns have hazardous disposal days.
Day Fourteen - Garage again. This time though, the focus is on organizing what is left.
Day Fifteen - Attic. Oh dear. Well, let's be generous and give you five days for the attic. Open every single box, and get rid of it if you don't use it. Anything you are keeping, repack neatly and label the box so you can easily find the items in it.
Day Twenty - Dining room. Let's have an easy day after all of the work you put into the attic.
Day Twenty One - Paperwork. Get rid of all papers that are no longer pertinent. Any pay stubs or tax forms older than seven years (double check that first!) get rid of. Enter business cards into a database in your computer, and toss all receipts and miscellaneous pieces of junk. Get a nice filing system for what is left.
Day Twenty Two - Basement. Another big one. Let's have five days again. Once again, open every single box, and get rid of it if you don't use it. Anything you are keeping, repack neatly and label the box so you can easily find the items in it.
Day Twenty Seven - Books. Adult books and children's books. Used books can definitely be donated, so don't throw these away!
Day Twenty Eight - Hall closet or entry way. Remove any unseasonal items, and pack away with the unseasonal items from the closets. Donate anything that doesn't fit, toss anything in poor repair. Allot one jacket hook and one spot for shoes in this area for the items most commonly used, and remove everything else to bedroom closets.
Day Twenty Nine - Random rooms that have not been covered. Office? Play room?
Day Thirty - Miscellaneous spots. Walk around the house and look for the areas you haven't hit yet. Your night stand? Your jewelry box? I'm sure you can still find plenty.
And hopefully that is it! Now, keep your house looking this good, and start all over again tomorrow, but instead of an hour, give it five minutes a day. Five minutes to quickly look through an area, clear it of junk, and give it a cleaning. You'll still need to do your daily cleaning, but you'll never again open your silverware drawer and tell yourself that you'll get to those accumulated crumbs tomorrow.
While the kids were napping, I began to go through these boxes, ruthlessly making piles to give away or throw away. I decided that the only boxes permitted in the basement would be seasonal clothing and holiday stuff. Any decorations that we had in our old house that would not work here had to go. Personal things that I kept as keepsakes had to go unless they could be displayed. If it wasn't something useful, it wasn't something we could keep.
I am a very emotional, sentimental person, so this wasn't easy to do, but seriously, what am I going to do with the baby's first shoes? Frame them? I'm just not that kind of girl, so into the donation pile they went.
I made a good dent, but definitely didn't finish going through all of the boxes. With knee surgery on my knee looming in the next few weeks, I decided to set myself a goal of unpacking one box during nap time, and one box after they go to bed at night. This seems reasonable and manageable, and something that I wish I had done right when we moved in as I would be long since done by now.
Since my injury, I've been slowly chugging along in the rest of the house, purging purging purging, so there are no unused items hanging about anywhere but the basement, and finishing that is going to feel SO good.
I'd like to invite you to join me in a house purge. You will feel so refreshed by it, I promise. And as an added bonus it will make your daily housework take a lot less time. To get you started, here is a sample 30 day roadmap for your house purge. Enjoy! And don't forget, as you clean out one area, clean it up and organize what is left! For one month, commit to spend an hour on this each day, unless you are really really having fun and want to do more :-)
Day One - Mom's closet and dresser. Remove all seasonal clothes, and place them neatly into a box. Only pack items that fit, are in good condition, and you know you will use. Otherwise, toss it or donate it. Label the box completely, and store it.
Day Two - Dad's closet and dresser. Do the same as you did in Mom's closet.
Day Three - Kid One's room. Do the same as you did in Mom's closet. Place a paper bag on the floor of your child's closet for outgrown items, and in the future, immediately place outgrown items in there for donation or storage for hand me downs.
Day Four - Kid Two's closet and dresser. Do the same as you did in Kid One's room.
Day Five - Linen closets. Remove all stained, ripped, excess, or not frequently used towels, blankets, and sheets, and donate them to a homeless shelter or animal shelter. Keep three sets of sheets for each adult/teenage bed, and five sets of sheets per child (to have extras in case of accidents.)
Day Six - Bathrooms. Remove all expired or unused items from the medicine cabinets and under the sink. Be ruthless when going through your makeup and hair care products. If you don't use it daily, don't keep it! Makeup should be replaced something like every six months, so chances are you need to throw pretty much everything away and start over.
Day Seven - Toys. This would be a good day to get the kids out of the house so they don't see this. My kids are too young to remember if something is gone, but they would sure get upset if they saw something going into the trash. Get rid of anything that is broken, isn't age appropriate, or isn't loved. A lot of donation places won't accept used toys, so you might need to call around. If not, try to give them to a friend or family member. Separate out 1/3 of the remaining toys and put them into storage. Once a week, rotate those toys in, and store another 1/3 of the toys. This will keep your kids playing with what they have.
Day Eight - Kitchen. Oh my, this is one of the areas you weren't looking forward to tackling I bet. But don't worry, you get two days for this one! How many pots and pans do you really need? I can't answer that for you, but probably not nearly as many as you have, and ditto for serving platters and utensils. Get rid of them!!! Dump your junk drawer! Vases? Two, maybe three. Toss ripped and stained dish towels and place mats. Only keep what you use and love. Don't forget to wipe down inside the cabinets and drawers as you go, saving yourself time later!
Day Ten - Living room. This should be a nice easy day after the kitchen fiasco. Sift through your DVDs and donate or sell anything you don't watch. This might be a nice time to take down your curtains or blinds and wash them.
Day Eleven - Garage. Once again, you get a few days for this one. Let's say three. Pay special attention to items you are storing that may be hazardous, and dispose of them properly. Many towns have hazardous disposal days.
Day Fourteen - Garage again. This time though, the focus is on organizing what is left.
Day Fifteen - Attic. Oh dear. Well, let's be generous and give you five days for the attic. Open every single box, and get rid of it if you don't use it. Anything you are keeping, repack neatly and label the box so you can easily find the items in it.
Day Twenty - Dining room. Let's have an easy day after all of the work you put into the attic.
Day Twenty One - Paperwork. Get rid of all papers that are no longer pertinent. Any pay stubs or tax forms older than seven years (double check that first!) get rid of. Enter business cards into a database in your computer, and toss all receipts and miscellaneous pieces of junk. Get a nice filing system for what is left.
Day Twenty Two - Basement. Another big one. Let's have five days again. Once again, open every single box, and get rid of it if you don't use it. Anything you are keeping, repack neatly and label the box so you can easily find the items in it.
Day Twenty Seven - Books. Adult books and children's books. Used books can definitely be donated, so don't throw these away!
Day Twenty Eight - Hall closet or entry way. Remove any unseasonal items, and pack away with the unseasonal items from the closets. Donate anything that doesn't fit, toss anything in poor repair. Allot one jacket hook and one spot for shoes in this area for the items most commonly used, and remove everything else to bedroom closets.
Day Twenty Nine - Random rooms that have not been covered. Office? Play room?
Day Thirty - Miscellaneous spots. Walk around the house and look for the areas you haven't hit yet. Your night stand? Your jewelry box? I'm sure you can still find plenty.
And hopefully that is it! Now, keep your house looking this good, and start all over again tomorrow, but instead of an hour, give it five minutes a day. Five minutes to quickly look through an area, clear it of junk, and give it a cleaning. You'll still need to do your daily cleaning, but you'll never again open your silverware drawer and tell yourself that you'll get to those accumulated crumbs tomorrow.
Friday, May 3, 2013
The Drop In
I am going to deviate completely from my typical posts. I am going to gripe a bit about something that bothers me, but that I don't really get to be honest about in real life; the drop in visit. I know, I know, it seems like a really silly thing to be bothered about, but it really really bothers me. Here's why.
1. I have a 10 month old and a 2 year old. Pretty much, someone is ALWAYS sleeping. If I knew we were expecting company, I would at least put the dogs outside so they didn't bark. Also, I could ask the expected guests not to ring the doorbell. If you want to piss me off unreasonably, wake up my kids.
2. Our house is always pretty clean. But you know how it goes; the one time the place looks like a pigsty is when people show up unannounced. I take a lot of pride in keeping a nice home, and I want it to look respectable when visitors see it.
3. The same goes for the girls. I'd rather they not be dirty faced and still in last night's pajamas if you don't mind.
4. I like to entertain, and I want to do it properly. If time permits, I'd love to have something baking in the oven and the coffee freshly perked. When I am scrambling to offer guests something that isn't goldfish or bunny shaped, I feel completely out of sorts.
5. If you know me, you know that I am kind of a controlled person. Surprises aren't necessarily good in my world.
6. We live a solid 30 minutes away from anyone who'd be coming to visit us. We are in the middle of nowhere. There is NO reason for any one to be in the neighborhood. To my mind, this means that we should get a phone call 30 minutes in advance saying "Hey, we are coming over!" This is short notice, but sufficient. If we lived in a neighborhood, I would be expecting visitors more frequently, so I wouldn't be so bothered by it.
Ok, I apologize for the purposeless rant. I needed to get it out so that I am not actually rude to anyone in person.
1. I have a 10 month old and a 2 year old. Pretty much, someone is ALWAYS sleeping. If I knew we were expecting company, I would at least put the dogs outside so they didn't bark. Also, I could ask the expected guests not to ring the doorbell. If you want to piss me off unreasonably, wake up my kids.
2. Our house is always pretty clean. But you know how it goes; the one time the place looks like a pigsty is when people show up unannounced. I take a lot of pride in keeping a nice home, and I want it to look respectable when visitors see it.
3. The same goes for the girls. I'd rather they not be dirty faced and still in last night's pajamas if you don't mind.
4. I like to entertain, and I want to do it properly. If time permits, I'd love to have something baking in the oven and the coffee freshly perked. When I am scrambling to offer guests something that isn't goldfish or bunny shaped, I feel completely out of sorts.
5. If you know me, you know that I am kind of a controlled person. Surprises aren't necessarily good in my world.
6. We live a solid 30 minutes away from anyone who'd be coming to visit us. We are in the middle of nowhere. There is NO reason for any one to be in the neighborhood. To my mind, this means that we should get a phone call 30 minutes in advance saying "Hey, we are coming over!" This is short notice, but sufficient. If we lived in a neighborhood, I would be expecting visitors more frequently, so I wouldn't be so bothered by it.
Ok, I apologize for the purposeless rant. I needed to get it out so that I am not actually rude to anyone in person.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
One of THOSE days.
If I have given you the impression that I have my act together, please let me disillusion you. I do not. Not always. Not even close. I try really hard, and I have quite nice children, but like any (every?) other mom, we have plenty of those days. Let me tell you about mine.
Last night, I went to bed without finishing my house work, so I woke up to a house that was already a few feet behind the starting line. The cleaning fairy has yet again disappointed me. I am convinced that the kids see a messy house as being permission to go wild, and they did so with aplomb.
The baby was in a crappy mood because she had failed to have a crap for a few days, not counting the weensy little stone she dropped on the toddler's floor last night. The toddler was tired because we had a weekend of birthday festivities which she has yet to recover from. They were both peaches. Rotten ones.
In an attempt to salvage the day, my sister and I brought them to the mall to use the Build A Bear gift card that a kind soul had given the toddler. When Build A Bear and a pretzel fail to do bring more than a hint of a smile, you know you should just give up and pull the blankets over your head. But I soldiered on, and put dinner in front of them. No, they didn't eat. They also didn't eat lunch. Or breakfast. I think they have a secret stash of cookies somewhere.
After dinner, the baby did another adorable little nugget in her diaper. It didn't restore her mood at all, unfortunately. I put her in the tub and promptly heard the toddler say "She coloring with she butt." She was indeed. A little turtle head of poo was drawing lines on the tub floor as she played. I figured at that point she may as well stay in and hopefully the warm water would relax her bum into finally releasing the hounds. After all, what is the difference between a little poo and a lot of poo? I let the toddler go while I waited for the baby to deliver the prize. It was not epic, but at least it was out. Mood improved somewhat, until I took her out of the tub to clean it. I'm not sure why she was crying when I was the one scooping finless brown trout out of the tub.
Retrieved the toddler from my bedroom where she had rearranged all of Daddy's special magazines. No, not that kind, thank goodness. Architectural Digest type things. Successfully bathed two kids.
Left the toddler naked while I fed the baby. Who promptly had a huge blowout that was not adorable. Ok, fine. Better out than in. While cleaning up the baby and changing her outfit, I heard "Uh oh, poop!" Yes, thank you Captain Obvious. I know she pooped. Except, she wasn't talking about the baby. She was talking about herself. She had laid a log in the corner, and tracked it across the rug, along with the bits of fruit that made up said log. Yeah, over share maybe, but I saw it, so you shall too.
It was at that point that I knew the worst was over. What else could happen? Oh, well, the toddler had gone on a self punishing crime spree and had stolen her own pacifier out of her crib. I could not find it. I looked in all the usual spots. Gone. I was way too tired to deal with a screaming kid all night. Soon it will happen, but not tonight. I debated waking up the baby to go to the store for a new pacifier, but that was not truly an option. I debated calling my mommy, but that was also not truly an option. Ok, tonight was the night. No binky. Sigh. I put her in bed, and left, wondering how much wine I'd have to drink to make her screams sound pleasant. I did not have enough wine. On the bright side, while cleaning up the hazmat zone kitchen, I did find her pacifier in the bag from Build A Bear, and was able to get it to her before the emotional trauma was too steep to overcome without a life time of therapy (for me.)
Last night, I went to bed without finishing my house work, so I woke up to a house that was already a few feet behind the starting line. The cleaning fairy has yet again disappointed me. I am convinced that the kids see a messy house as being permission to go wild, and they did so with aplomb.
The baby was in a crappy mood because she had failed to have a crap for a few days, not counting the weensy little stone she dropped on the toddler's floor last night. The toddler was tired because we had a weekend of birthday festivities which she has yet to recover from. They were both peaches. Rotten ones.
In an attempt to salvage the day, my sister and I brought them to the mall to use the Build A Bear gift card that a kind soul had given the toddler. When Build A Bear and a pretzel fail to do bring more than a hint of a smile, you know you should just give up and pull the blankets over your head. But I soldiered on, and put dinner in front of them. No, they didn't eat. They also didn't eat lunch. Or breakfast. I think they have a secret stash of cookies somewhere.
After dinner, the baby did another adorable little nugget in her diaper. It didn't restore her mood at all, unfortunately. I put her in the tub and promptly heard the toddler say "She coloring with she butt." She was indeed. A little turtle head of poo was drawing lines on the tub floor as she played. I figured at that point she may as well stay in and hopefully the warm water would relax her bum into finally releasing the hounds. After all, what is the difference between a little poo and a lot of poo? I let the toddler go while I waited for the baby to deliver the prize. It was not epic, but at least it was out. Mood improved somewhat, until I took her out of the tub to clean it. I'm not sure why she was crying when I was the one scooping finless brown trout out of the tub.
Retrieved the toddler from my bedroom where she had rearranged all of Daddy's special magazines. No, not that kind, thank goodness. Architectural Digest type things. Successfully bathed two kids.
Left the toddler naked while I fed the baby. Who promptly had a huge blowout that was not adorable. Ok, fine. Better out than in. While cleaning up the baby and changing her outfit, I heard "Uh oh, poop!" Yes, thank you Captain Obvious. I know she pooped. Except, she wasn't talking about the baby. She was talking about herself. She had laid a log in the corner, and tracked it across the rug, along with the bits of fruit that made up said log. Yeah, over share maybe, but I saw it, so you shall too.
It was at that point that I knew the worst was over. What else could happen? Oh, well, the toddler had gone on a self punishing crime spree and had stolen her own pacifier out of her crib. I could not find it. I looked in all the usual spots. Gone. I was way too tired to deal with a screaming kid all night. Soon it will happen, but not tonight. I debated waking up the baby to go to the store for a new pacifier, but that was not truly an option. I debated calling my mommy, but that was also not truly an option. Ok, tonight was the night. No binky. Sigh. I put her in bed, and left, wondering how much wine I'd have to drink to make her screams sound pleasant. I did not have enough wine. On the bright side, while cleaning up the hazmat zone kitchen, I did find her pacifier in the bag from Build A Bear, and was able to get it to her before the emotional trauma was too steep to overcome without a life time of therapy (for me.)
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
The Only Sleep Advice You Really Need
Edited to add: No, this doesn't really contradict the other sleep post I wrote. I was just in a much bitchier mood when I wrote that one.
Yet another parenting post has gone viral. A frustrated mom posted this on her friend's Tumblr account...Sleep Training Rant and every single mom's group I am part of is gleefully passing it around. It touches a nerve alright. I don't know too many moms who can't relate to this, myself included. As a new mom I decided to sort of shut out the static and stick with the wisdom of one book. Then my pediatrician starting talking. Then I read another book that I liked even better. And then I got confused.
I had to stop and fall back on the common sense advice of my mom. In short, decide how you want your baby to sleep and work towards that step by step. Her concise wisdom doesn't contradict any of the sleep training books, but nor does it really align with any of them in particular.
So here's the only sleep advice you really need. Seriously. Pick one sensible book or theory, and stick with it. I say sensible because some of them just aren't even remotely sensible, but I'll let you use your own judgement on that particular subject. All of the theories have good points and bad points, and you need to decide which of the bad points you can tolerate.
Example. The wide variety of co-sleeping, child centric theories. They all boil down to the idea that your child sleeps beside you and nurses on demand throughout the night. You nurse and cuddle them to sleep, and the idea is that your presence and milk provide the security needed to keep your child comfortable. This works immediately! Oh yes indeed. For sleep deprived parents this is a God send. But there is a downside. At some point, your child becomes social and your presence is no longer that of a milk producing, heat source. You become MOMMMYY!!! Middle of the nights are no longer peaceful and secure. As the other moms you know are starting to look well rested and their babies are down to one feed, or even none, you are still nursing every hour or two, and now your baby is less willing to go back to sleep after each feed. Of course, this isn't always the case, but I do know many many moms who bear this theory out. Pay me now or pay me later, as the case may be.
The flip side of the coin is the rigorous sleep training school. You place your baby in the crib and leave her there until she falls asleep no matter how long that takes. You and she will both lose a lot of sleep in those early days, but eventually she will figure it out and sleep through the night. The downside is that this is heartbreaking as a mom, and probably even more heartbreaking to the baby. She likely feels as though you are gone, never to return and she does not understand.
In between these two theories lie many others, none of which are perfect. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, and that holds true for sleep theories as well.
So, you pick the theory that suits your temperament best, and add to it my mom's advice. Work at it in stages aiming at your ideal sleep situation. Don't let the static creep into your head and steer you from the path you've chosen. You are not wrong. You are your child's mother, so you are the only one who knows best.
Yet another parenting post has gone viral. A frustrated mom posted this on her friend's Tumblr account...Sleep Training Rant and every single mom's group I am part of is gleefully passing it around. It touches a nerve alright. I don't know too many moms who can't relate to this, myself included. As a new mom I decided to sort of shut out the static and stick with the wisdom of one book. Then my pediatrician starting talking. Then I read another book that I liked even better. And then I got confused.
I had to stop and fall back on the common sense advice of my mom. In short, decide how you want your baby to sleep and work towards that step by step. Her concise wisdom doesn't contradict any of the sleep training books, but nor does it really align with any of them in particular.
So here's the only sleep advice you really need. Seriously. Pick one sensible book or theory, and stick with it. I say sensible because some of them just aren't even remotely sensible, but I'll let you use your own judgement on that particular subject. All of the theories have good points and bad points, and you need to decide which of the bad points you can tolerate.
Example. The wide variety of co-sleeping, child centric theories. They all boil down to the idea that your child sleeps beside you and nurses on demand throughout the night. You nurse and cuddle them to sleep, and the idea is that your presence and milk provide the security needed to keep your child comfortable. This works immediately! Oh yes indeed. For sleep deprived parents this is a God send. But there is a downside. At some point, your child becomes social and your presence is no longer that of a milk producing, heat source. You become MOMMMYY!!! Middle of the nights are no longer peaceful and secure. As the other moms you know are starting to look well rested and their babies are down to one feed, or even none, you are still nursing every hour or two, and now your baby is less willing to go back to sleep after each feed. Of course, this isn't always the case, but I do know many many moms who bear this theory out. Pay me now or pay me later, as the case may be.
The flip side of the coin is the rigorous sleep training school. You place your baby in the crib and leave her there until she falls asleep no matter how long that takes. You and she will both lose a lot of sleep in those early days, but eventually she will figure it out and sleep through the night. The downside is that this is heartbreaking as a mom, and probably even more heartbreaking to the baby. She likely feels as though you are gone, never to return and she does not understand.
In between these two theories lie many others, none of which are perfect. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, and that holds true for sleep theories as well.
So, you pick the theory that suits your temperament best, and add to it my mom's advice. Work at it in stages aiming at your ideal sleep situation. Don't let the static creep into your head and steer you from the path you've chosen. You are not wrong. You are your child's mother, so you are the only one who knows best.
 |
| A sleeping baby; the most beautiful sight in the world. |
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Why It All Works, Pretty Much
I don't think I can stress enough that what I talk about is what works for MY family at THIS time in our life. I hope that anything you read here can help you in some way, but even if you just came here to gawk at the mom who still believes in old fashioned parenting, or whatever you want to call it, know that I think you are doing a great job, whatever you are doing, and I am not judging you.
Amongst my friends and family are proof that whatever you do works, as long as you love your kids, and are consistent. With those two keys in place, your kids are overwhelmingly likely to turn out just fine.
I know one family in which cleanliness takes a backseat to fun. Not just sometimes, but all the times. Where I would let the girls build a fort out of the living room cushions and then ask that they put them back before moving on to something else, this mom would not even notice the cushions out until she tried to sit on the couch. Dinner? Whatever she can slap together in five minutes. Her sweet as can be kids worship her, and respect her fully because she is still the boss when it comes to something that matters to her, like homework.
I know another family in which a pillow fort would never in a million years be permitted, and even in the basement playroom, only one toy is allowed out at a time. Their house is spotless, rules are legion, and there is a gourmet meal on the table every night. Playing outside? Not so much, but Mom spends hours every day reading to her kids while snuggling them close. Another fully functional, happy family.
My family works too. I like to think we are a happy medium, but a happy medium as compared to what? There is no such thing as normal any more. There is no longer a preponderance of families with a mom at home, a dad at work, and 2.5 kids behind the picket fence. We are no longer all eating meatloaf on Tuesdays, and tuna noodle casserole on Thursdays.
I like to think of myself as a problem solver when it comes to kids, but you have to believe in my style of parenting to be willing to try one of my solutions. If you are a co-sleeping, attachment parenting nut job, or a tiger mom wackadoo (joking, people!) I still welcome you here, and appreciate your comments. We are all the new normal, and we are all trying to do what we believe is best for our kids.
Amongst my friends and family are proof that whatever you do works, as long as you love your kids, and are consistent. With those two keys in place, your kids are overwhelmingly likely to turn out just fine.
I know one family in which cleanliness takes a backseat to fun. Not just sometimes, but all the times. Where I would let the girls build a fort out of the living room cushions and then ask that they put them back before moving on to something else, this mom would not even notice the cushions out until she tried to sit on the couch. Dinner? Whatever she can slap together in five minutes. Her sweet as can be kids worship her, and respect her fully because she is still the boss when it comes to something that matters to her, like homework.
I know another family in which a pillow fort would never in a million years be permitted, and even in the basement playroom, only one toy is allowed out at a time. Their house is spotless, rules are legion, and there is a gourmet meal on the table every night. Playing outside? Not so much, but Mom spends hours every day reading to her kids while snuggling them close. Another fully functional, happy family.
My family works too. I like to think we are a happy medium, but a happy medium as compared to what? There is no such thing as normal any more. There is no longer a preponderance of families with a mom at home, a dad at work, and 2.5 kids behind the picket fence. We are no longer all eating meatloaf on Tuesdays, and tuna noodle casserole on Thursdays.
I like to think of myself as a problem solver when it comes to kids, but you have to believe in my style of parenting to be willing to try one of my solutions. If you are a co-sleeping, attachment parenting nut job, or a tiger mom wackadoo (joking, people!) I still welcome you here, and appreciate your comments. We are all the new normal, and we are all trying to do what we believe is best for our kids.
 |
| Dancing in the rain, because she can! |
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Loving/Discipline
I don't like disciplining my children. I rarely need to. Because our house is run on the principles of mutual respect, discipline occurs throughout the day, but disciplinING rarely does. When the occasion arises, I choose to tread carefully. While I want my children to respect me, I never want them to fear me.
Every night while I put the baby to bed, the toddler watches a movie while sitting in my bed. I can see her, but I'm not sure she knows this as the baby's room is dark while I feed her and rock her. She is typically content to sit and revel in the peace and quiet of a baby free/mom free thirty minutes. Tonight though, she got down from the bed, pulled down a few books, and was happily coloring in the pages with a pencil she had somehow managed to get off the desk.
I didn't get upset at this. She is a toddler, this is what toddlers do.
I removed the pencil from her, and firmly but gently told her "We color on paper, not in books."
She lunged at the pencil, grabbed it away from me,ran to the bookshelf and began wildly scribbling on the spines of the books.
This I did get upset with, as this intentionally mischievous behavior is unlike her. I picked her up, and said again "We color on paper, not in books."
She responded by hitting me, actually pretty painfully, on the face.
I had to take a deep breath because I was in danger of acting in a fashion unbecoming to an adult. I'm not too proud to admit that my first inclination was to yell at her, and lose my temper. But what lesson does that teach her? That mommy is not in control.
I lowered the tone of my voice and said very very firmly, and not so gently "We do NOT hit. Hitting is mean. You do NOT get to be mean to other people."
Then she began to cry. I hugged her tight, lifted the tone of my voice back to gentle and said "I think you are very tired. You are a very nice girl and you don't usually behave this way. I hope that in the morning you will feel better and you won't want to be mean anymore."
She put her head on my shoulder, and we hugged an extra few minutes before I put her in her crib thirty minutes before her usual bedtime.
I hope she learned a few things from this. The first lesson that I hope she learned is that I do know the difference between experimentation and intentional mischief. She had no idea she wasn't allowed to color in the books. She was trying something. It was only problematic when she continued to do so after she was told not to. The second lesson that I hope she learns is that mom means business. I told her no, and then immediately reacted when she defied me. Most importantly though, the lesson that I hope she truly takes to heart is that I remained in control the whole time, and continued to treat her with respect. I did not act like a child and deal with the situation emotionally, because I am the adult in our relationship. I hope this gives her comfort as she grows up. I hope that she knows that she can always rely on me to be calm and in control. Not in control of her, because I don't want to control her, but in control of myself, and, to the best of my ability, of the circumstances surrounding us. The world is a crazy place, but HER world need not be if she knows she can trust me to be steady.
Every night while I put the baby to bed, the toddler watches a movie while sitting in my bed. I can see her, but I'm not sure she knows this as the baby's room is dark while I feed her and rock her. She is typically content to sit and revel in the peace and quiet of a baby free/mom free thirty minutes. Tonight though, she got down from the bed, pulled down a few books, and was happily coloring in the pages with a pencil she had somehow managed to get off the desk.
I didn't get upset at this. She is a toddler, this is what toddlers do.
I removed the pencil from her, and firmly but gently told her "We color on paper, not in books."
She lunged at the pencil, grabbed it away from me,ran to the bookshelf and began wildly scribbling on the spines of the books.
This I did get upset with, as this intentionally mischievous behavior is unlike her. I picked her up, and said again "We color on paper, not in books."
She responded by hitting me, actually pretty painfully, on the face.
I had to take a deep breath because I was in danger of acting in a fashion unbecoming to an adult. I'm not too proud to admit that my first inclination was to yell at her, and lose my temper. But what lesson does that teach her? That mommy is not in control.
I lowered the tone of my voice and said very very firmly, and not so gently "We do NOT hit. Hitting is mean. You do NOT get to be mean to other people."
Then she began to cry. I hugged her tight, lifted the tone of my voice back to gentle and said "I think you are very tired. You are a very nice girl and you don't usually behave this way. I hope that in the morning you will feel better and you won't want to be mean anymore."
She put her head on my shoulder, and we hugged an extra few minutes before I put her in her crib thirty minutes before her usual bedtime.
I hope she learned a few things from this. The first lesson that I hope she learned is that I do know the difference between experimentation and intentional mischief. She had no idea she wasn't allowed to color in the books. She was trying something. It was only problematic when she continued to do so after she was told not to. The second lesson that I hope she learns is that mom means business. I told her no, and then immediately reacted when she defied me. Most importantly though, the lesson that I hope she truly takes to heart is that I remained in control the whole time, and continued to treat her with respect. I did not act like a child and deal with the situation emotionally, because I am the adult in our relationship. I hope this gives her comfort as she grows up. I hope that she knows that she can always rely on me to be calm and in control. Not in control of her, because I don't want to control her, but in control of myself, and, to the best of my ability, of the circumstances surrounding us. The world is a crazy place, but HER world need not be if she knows she can trust me to be steady.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Good Morning Sunshine!
My children are very close in age. While their relationship seems to change daily, at the moment, the toddler tends to ignore the baby, while the baby, of course, chases after the toddler and desperately wants to do and have everything the same. Any scrap of attention the toddler deigns to give the baby is soaked up like a drop of rain after a drought.
Most of the time, the attention tends to be negative. Toys get yanked, hair is pulled, shoves are delivered. Though I try to keep things gentle and polite between them, given that they are both babies, neither one of them really has the comprehension required to take the high road when their doll is getting grabbed away.
Then there are the times when their bond is magical. The toddler is fiercely protective of the baby. If the baby leaves the room, she jumps up and follows after her to "check" on her. If the toddler is fed first, she will carefully select the best pieces from her plate and deliver them to the baby. Every time we get out of the car, she reminds me not to forget the baby. Then of course, the baby lights up from toe to hair when she sees her big sister. She smiles with her whole body. And the giggles. Oh my heart, the giggles. When the two of them play peekaboo together, the giggles are contagious.
I suspect that this is how their relationship will be. Intense. Intensely loving, and intensely loathing. Intensely supportive, and intensely jealous. Hopefully the giggles will always remain a part of their life.
Right now, there is a moment of every day that lets me know that I didn't screw up too badly by having them so close in age. Every morning, I get the toddler out of bed, and the first words out of her mouth are "My baby, she need me!"
We go into the baby's room, and the toddler bends down, rubs the baby's head, and says "Good morning Sunshine!"
As if that weren't heart melting enough, as we walk down the stairs, the toddler wraps her arms around the baby and hugs her saying "Oh, you are so soft. I carry you," while the baby gazes at her big sister with what can only be described as worship.
By the time we get to the bottom of the stairs, it is every kid for herself as they race into the playroom to grab their favorite toys, but they will always have that moment of Sunshine.
Most of the time, the attention tends to be negative. Toys get yanked, hair is pulled, shoves are delivered. Though I try to keep things gentle and polite between them, given that they are both babies, neither one of them really has the comprehension required to take the high road when their doll is getting grabbed away.
Then there are the times when their bond is magical. The toddler is fiercely protective of the baby. If the baby leaves the room, she jumps up and follows after her to "check" on her. If the toddler is fed first, she will carefully select the best pieces from her plate and deliver them to the baby. Every time we get out of the car, she reminds me not to forget the baby. Then of course, the baby lights up from toe to hair when she sees her big sister. She smiles with her whole body. And the giggles. Oh my heart, the giggles. When the two of them play peekaboo together, the giggles are contagious.
I suspect that this is how their relationship will be. Intense. Intensely loving, and intensely loathing. Intensely supportive, and intensely jealous. Hopefully the giggles will always remain a part of their life.
Right now, there is a moment of every day that lets me know that I didn't screw up too badly by having them so close in age. Every morning, I get the toddler out of bed, and the first words out of her mouth are "My baby, she need me!"
We go into the baby's room, and the toddler bends down, rubs the baby's head, and says "Good morning Sunshine!"
As if that weren't heart melting enough, as we walk down the stairs, the toddler wraps her arms around the baby and hugs her saying "Oh, you are so soft. I carry you," while the baby gazes at her big sister with what can only be described as worship.
By the time we get to the bottom of the stairs, it is every kid for herself as they race into the playroom to grab their favorite toys, but they will always have that moment of Sunshine.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
My Kids Aren't Perfect. What???
My older daughter is obsessed with pigs. She is kind of obsessed with all animals, but she is hardcore obsessed with pigs. When I have the time and ability to do so, I try to encourage the passion of the moment with field trips to see whatever the "thing" is. It is a great way to let her know that her interests are valued by me, as well as an easy way to sneak a little bit of learning in, and I am a fan of anything that gets a bored toddler out of the house!
So, today, pigs. This involved a 90 minute ride in both directions, and a failed car nap attempt from each child. It was so worth it, as we all had a blast, but as I'm sure you can imagine,it meant that the ride home was a bit painful. At some point during the ride, it occurred to me that we had no food in the house, and that the dinner hour was imminent, so I made the dubious decision to stop a few miles away from home and take the girls into a restaurant, by myself, after 90 minutes in the car, and no naps. Can you see where I went wrong??
It. Was. A. Disaster.
The only thing I did right was to pick a casual pizza place. We got our pizza, and I was able to stop them from re-heating the slices, so the girls were able to start eating right away. And then, it happened. The toddler threw her pizza on the floor after two bites, stood up in the booth (they had no high chairs) and began dancing, waving, and yelling at the man sitting in the booth behind us. As I retrieved her pizza (while holding the baby) she reached over, grabbed the salt and pepper, and began sprinkling it all over the place.
I was mortified. I cleaned up as best I could, and then managed to drag/carry the girls and our dinner out to the car while calmly explaining to her that her behavior was unacceptable. I didn't belabor the point too much though, as this was entirely my own fault.
By the time we got home, the two bites of dinner she had taken had hit her stomach, and she was back to her calm, reasonable self, thank goodness. I know we don't always get to parent under perfect circumstances, but we can still find a way to adapt to the situation and make the best of it. I didn't do that. I screwed up.
If I could do it all over again, I would have done one of two things. I would have either brought the kids to the grassy area behind the restaurant and let them run their hooligans out before trying to make them sit nicely, or had pizza delivered to the house and let them play in the back yard while we were waiting for it. Cranky, over-tired kids who have been cooped up in the car all day are not great dinner companions.
The dinner snafu aside, it truly was an amazing day. There is nothing better than watching your child's dreams come true.
So, today, pigs. This involved a 90 minute ride in both directions, and a failed car nap attempt from each child. It was so worth it, as we all had a blast, but as I'm sure you can imagine,it meant that the ride home was a bit painful. At some point during the ride, it occurred to me that we had no food in the house, and that the dinner hour was imminent, so I made the dubious decision to stop a few miles away from home and take the girls into a restaurant, by myself, after 90 minutes in the car, and no naps. Can you see where I went wrong??
It. Was. A. Disaster.
The only thing I did right was to pick a casual pizza place. We got our pizza, and I was able to stop them from re-heating the slices, so the girls were able to start eating right away. And then, it happened. The toddler threw her pizza on the floor after two bites, stood up in the booth (they had no high chairs) and began dancing, waving, and yelling at the man sitting in the booth behind us. As I retrieved her pizza (while holding the baby) she reached over, grabbed the salt and pepper, and began sprinkling it all over the place.
I was mortified. I cleaned up as best I could, and then managed to drag/carry the girls and our dinner out to the car while calmly explaining to her that her behavior was unacceptable. I didn't belabor the point too much though, as this was entirely my own fault.
By the time we got home, the two bites of dinner she had taken had hit her stomach, and she was back to her calm, reasonable self, thank goodness. I know we don't always get to parent under perfect circumstances, but we can still find a way to adapt to the situation and make the best of it. I didn't do that. I screwed up.
If I could do it all over again, I would have done one of two things. I would have either brought the kids to the grassy area behind the restaurant and let them run their hooligans out before trying to make them sit nicely, or had pizza delivered to the house and let them play in the back yard while we were waiting for it. Cranky, over-tired kids who have been cooped up in the car all day are not great dinner companions.
The dinner snafu aside, it truly was an amazing day. There is nothing better than watching your child's dreams come true.
Friday, April 5, 2013
My Mom-ifesto
What I believe.
- I believe that it is my job to raise my daughters to be productive and happy members of society.
- I believe that it is important for them to know the value of a dollar, and work hard.
- I believe that they can wear princess crowns and tutus while learning how to change a tire.
- I believe that children who are over-indulged are not happy children.
- I believe that learning how to be told "no" and respond gracefully is an important skill.
- I believe that even young children need to have chores and responsibility.
- I believe that good manners are vitally important, even in toddlers.
- I believe that sticks and pinecones make the best toys.
- I believe that children thrive when given strict boundaries.
- I believe that within those strict boundaries, flying can occur.
- I believe that a blanket fort is the best place to be during a thunderstorm.
- I believe that being a parent is hard work, and laziness is simply unacceptable.
- I believe that Friday night should be pizza night.
- I believe that pots and pans and wooden spoons make great music.
- I believe that bedtime should never be a struggle.
- I believe that even toddlers can sit through a meal without being disruptive.
- I believe that it is my duty to teach my girls by setting them a good example.
- I believe that it is ok to have to do things you don't like to do, child or adult.
- I believe that tantrums are a learning experience.
- I believe that all children should learn how to keep house.
- I believe that children shouldn't be over-scheduled.
- I believe that there is always room for improvement as a parent.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Sometimes It Really Is Just That Easy
If you have a troubled sleeper, you are probably going to hate me for writing this post. Sorry. I'm writing it anyways. I don't believe that most kids are "bad sleepers." I think most kids have bad sleeping habits. There is a huge difference. And I am just tired enough (because my husband woke me up at 4 am) to be a bit b****y and say that the fact of life is that you created those habits, despite the best of intentions.
I will stand up and say that I am 100% responsible for my older daughter's poor sleep habits in the first year of her life, and I will also say that together, we worked very hard to overcome those bad habits.
We had many nights of screaming, and many tired grumpy days in working to fix her naps and nights. But now, she goes to bed without complaint, sleeps peacefully through the night, and wakes up cheerful and rested. Our work paid off, and then some. It wasn't easy, but it was so worth it.
My younger daughter was never permitted to develop bad sleeping habits. I learned my lesson. A few hours after she was born, I began sleep training her. Now, don't get all uppity. I'm not talking about Ferberizing her. Not even close. I began guiding her into good sleep habits, even at that very young age.
In the hospital, I began the process of not responding to her cries immediately. I gave her a chance to settle herself back in to sleep, or decide to fully wake up. About half the time, she'd fuss for a few minutes, and then go right back to sleep. She was never really awake you see, she was just in a lighter sleep phase, and by letting her fuss a bit, she was able to get back into a nice deep sleep. If you want more information on this, please read "Bringing Up Bebe" by Pamela Druckerman.
A few weeks after we came home, I began to transition her into putting herself to sleep in her own bed. I would nurse her until she was almost asleep, and then place her into her crib. If she didn't go to sleep right away, I would stand there and keep putting her pacifier back in and rubbing her back, but I never picked her up once she was down. Gradually, I put her down in a more and more awake state. Always drowsy and ready to sleep, but not at the point where she could hardly keep her eyes open as when we initially began.
I am proud to say, she has cried herself to sleep very few times in ten months. And usually, when she has cried herself to sleep, it is because I have messed up her schedule, or her sister is being loud, or her teeth are bothering her.
I didn't fret much about the middle of the night feeds. Her night feeds were a quick and businesslike affair; from start to finish, night feeds took about five to ten minutes. And she went back to sleep immediately after, which let me know that she needed to eat, she wasn't just looking for comfort.
As she got older and began to occasionally sleep through the night, it was clear that she no longer needed to eat at night, she just wanted to. I am not a huge fan of pushing a baby into a sleep pattern that they aren't ready for to suit my own needs, but on the mornings that she slept through the night, she was much happier and more well rested, so clearly, sleeping through the night was beneficial to her too.
I hemmed and hawed for a bit, not wanting to mess up my great sleeper, but finally I took the plunge. Sunday night, I determined that we were done with night feeds. She woke up at midnight, fussed intermittently for an hour, and went back to sleep. That was it. It is now Thursday, and so far so good. No more fussing, and not one episode of crying.
She had a strong background of good sleeping habits, and she was ready. So, it was as simple as that. It really was just that easy. But please don't say it was luck that I got a good sleeper. It was work.
I will stand up and say that I am 100% responsible for my older daughter's poor sleep habits in the first year of her life, and I will also say that together, we worked very hard to overcome those bad habits.
We had many nights of screaming, and many tired grumpy days in working to fix her naps and nights. But now, she goes to bed without complaint, sleeps peacefully through the night, and wakes up cheerful and rested. Our work paid off, and then some. It wasn't easy, but it was so worth it.
My younger daughter was never permitted to develop bad sleeping habits. I learned my lesson. A few hours after she was born, I began sleep training her. Now, don't get all uppity. I'm not talking about Ferberizing her. Not even close. I began guiding her into good sleep habits, even at that very young age.
In the hospital, I began the process of not responding to her cries immediately. I gave her a chance to settle herself back in to sleep, or decide to fully wake up. About half the time, she'd fuss for a few minutes, and then go right back to sleep. She was never really awake you see, she was just in a lighter sleep phase, and by letting her fuss a bit, she was able to get back into a nice deep sleep. If you want more information on this, please read "Bringing Up Bebe" by Pamela Druckerman.
A few weeks after we came home, I began to transition her into putting herself to sleep in her own bed. I would nurse her until she was almost asleep, and then place her into her crib. If she didn't go to sleep right away, I would stand there and keep putting her pacifier back in and rubbing her back, but I never picked her up once she was down. Gradually, I put her down in a more and more awake state. Always drowsy and ready to sleep, but not at the point where she could hardly keep her eyes open as when we initially began.
I am proud to say, she has cried herself to sleep very few times in ten months. And usually, when she has cried herself to sleep, it is because I have messed up her schedule, or her sister is being loud, or her teeth are bothering her.
I didn't fret much about the middle of the night feeds. Her night feeds were a quick and businesslike affair; from start to finish, night feeds took about five to ten minutes. And she went back to sleep immediately after, which let me know that she needed to eat, she wasn't just looking for comfort.
As she got older and began to occasionally sleep through the night, it was clear that she no longer needed to eat at night, she just wanted to. I am not a huge fan of pushing a baby into a sleep pattern that they aren't ready for to suit my own needs, but on the mornings that she slept through the night, she was much happier and more well rested, so clearly, sleeping through the night was beneficial to her too.
I hemmed and hawed for a bit, not wanting to mess up my great sleeper, but finally I took the plunge. Sunday night, I determined that we were done with night feeds. She woke up at midnight, fussed intermittently for an hour, and went back to sleep. That was it. It is now Thursday, and so far so good. No more fussing, and not one episode of crying.
She had a strong background of good sleeping habits, and she was ready. So, it was as simple as that. It really was just that easy. But please don't say it was luck that I got a good sleeper. It was work.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Our Shakes
One of the reasons that I don't fret too much if my kids eat or don't eat at meal times is that I know they are getting a balanced diet every day. Here's how.
After lunch every day, "dessert" is a smoothie. This isn't a typical smoothie. This is a carefully constructed masterpiece (not even close) that is designed to provide all of us with our daily servings of vegetables, some of our fruit and several other little good-for-you-but-I'm-not-eating-that-crap items of food. Fruit provides a slight flavoring for our smoothies, but is definitely not the dominant item. We all eat plenty of fruit already, so it isn't necessary to add it to the smoothies.
Today, the shake included a cup of milk (something the toddler avoids studiously,) a few scoops of plain Greek yogurt, a few cups of kale, a few cups of baby spinach, carrots, green beans, yellow pepper, purple cabbage, and a very small handful of raspberries and blueberries. Then I added in some ground flax seed and garbanzo beans for added protein. Blended it all up into a nice hearty smoothie, and voila! A "dessert" that ensures that even the super picky toddler is getting a great variety of vegetables in her diet.
The best part is that our toddler helps pick what goes into the shake, and likes to sample, or at least lick each thing as it goes in. She is still getting the straight taste of the vegetables, and while we build our masterpiece (not really) we discuss how each vegetable helps your body. While there will always be veggies on her plate at every meal, she isn't required to eat them, and this is one of the reasons why. She IS eating them, and they aren't hidden. She knows what is in her shake. She made it.
After lunch every day, "dessert" is a smoothie. This isn't a typical smoothie. This is a carefully constructed masterpiece (not even close) that is designed to provide all of us with our daily servings of vegetables, some of our fruit and several other little good-for-you-but-I'm-not-eating-that-crap items of food. Fruit provides a slight flavoring for our smoothies, but is definitely not the dominant item. We all eat plenty of fruit already, so it isn't necessary to add it to the smoothies.
Today, the shake included a cup of milk (something the toddler avoids studiously,) a few scoops of plain Greek yogurt, a few cups of kale, a few cups of baby spinach, carrots, green beans, yellow pepper, purple cabbage, and a very small handful of raspberries and blueberries. Then I added in some ground flax seed and garbanzo beans for added protein. Blended it all up into a nice hearty smoothie, and voila! A "dessert" that ensures that even the super picky toddler is getting a great variety of vegetables in her diet.
The best part is that our toddler helps pick what goes into the shake, and likes to sample, or at least lick each thing as it goes in. She is still getting the straight taste of the vegetables, and while we build our masterpiece (not really) we discuss how each vegetable helps your body. While there will always be veggies on her plate at every meal, she isn't required to eat them, and this is one of the reasons why. She IS eating them, and they aren't hidden. She knows what is in her shake. She made it.
I Give Up.
This morning, my older daughter came to the breakfast table with her blankie. Now, I don't typically let blankie out of the crib, as I don't want her dragging it all over the house, or, eww, dragging it everywhere we go. As cute as it is, it is also a habit I'd rather prevent than try to rid her of, as I don't want to do an extra load of laundry every day just to wash her blankie, or run around every store we just visited looking for a dropped blankie. Yes, this is perhaps being selfish on my part, but I feel like it is reasonably so. For my sanity's sake, blankie stays in the crib. Yet this morning, I permitted her to bring it down as I was just too tired to fight her. And then blankie came to the table.
"Let's put blankie on the stairs so he doesn't get dirty," I said as I put the breakfast on the table.
"Blankie eat with me please," she replied, fairly politely.
"Mommy is putting blankie on the stairs so he doesn't get dirty," I repeated gently as I moved towards her to take it away.
"No Mommmmmmyyyyy, no take! Please!" She screamed.
I stepped back, looking at her little body, tense, and ready to fight, and gave up. I actually said it out loud.
"I give up."
She ate breakfast with her blanket. I was too tired to be the adult. I needed an adult. Was it a big deal that she took her blanket out of the crib or to the table? No, of course not. So I had to wash maple syrup off of it before nap time...whatever. The big deal was the fact that I was too tired to be the adult and enforce a very simple, very minor rule.
Had I been energetic (that isn't the right word, but I'm sure you know what I mean) enough to tell her, as I do every other morning, "Say goodnight to blankie, he needs a nap!" I wouldn't have had to put either of us in that position. She would have thrown blankie back into the crib as she does every other day. Instead, I didn't even have the energy to say those simple words, and I created a needless problem.
But you know, I am actually ok with the fact that I gave up, out loud, where she could hear it. I certainly won't make a habit of it, but I don't mind that she knows that I am only human, that I have feelings too, and that I get oh so tired sometimes. I am ok with the fact that I needed a break, and that the break I opted to take was not fighting with her over her benign wish to eat breakfast with her blankie.
I did something silly out of exhaustion, and I paid the price for it. It happens extremely infrequently here, but only because we set the stage when the girls were very young, so a lot of battles I simply don't HAVE to fight, but I know that for a lot of moms, that is just how it goes every day. They are too tired to do what they know needs to be done in order to maintain control of their homes and families. I can't even imagine how that must feel. No, that's not true. After today, I absolutely CAN imagine how that feels, and I know I would hate it.
So what can be done when you are in that position, and just too bone-tired to be the adult? For me, it was giving myself time to recover. I disengaged as best I could from the kids until I had time to pull myself together, put my mom jeans back on, and was able to perform as an adult again. They watched a movie while I sat and had a cup of coffee and let my brain go quiet. Perfect day? No. But after that I got the job done, and we made it through the day with only one other major skirmish. She wanted to sit on my lap for dinner, and I wanted her to sit in her booster seat, as she does at every other meal. I stood my ground that time, and oh, it felt so good to succeed. But you know who really won? My daughter. She may not have gotten what she wanted, but she got what she needed in having her mom there as the adult, taking control and making sure that her world continued to be safe, secure, and predictable.
"Let's put blankie on the stairs so he doesn't get dirty," I said as I put the breakfast on the table.
"Blankie eat with me please," she replied, fairly politely.
"Mommy is putting blankie on the stairs so he doesn't get dirty," I repeated gently as I moved towards her to take it away.
"No Mommmmmmyyyyy, no take! Please!" She screamed.
I stepped back, looking at her little body, tense, and ready to fight, and gave up. I actually said it out loud.
"I give up."
She ate breakfast with her blanket. I was too tired to be the adult. I needed an adult. Was it a big deal that she took her blanket out of the crib or to the table? No, of course not. So I had to wash maple syrup off of it before nap time...whatever. The big deal was the fact that I was too tired to be the adult and enforce a very simple, very minor rule.
Had I been energetic (that isn't the right word, but I'm sure you know what I mean) enough to tell her, as I do every other morning, "Say goodnight to blankie, he needs a nap!" I wouldn't have had to put either of us in that position. She would have thrown blankie back into the crib as she does every other day. Instead, I didn't even have the energy to say those simple words, and I created a needless problem.
But you know, I am actually ok with the fact that I gave up, out loud, where she could hear it. I certainly won't make a habit of it, but I don't mind that she knows that I am only human, that I have feelings too, and that I get oh so tired sometimes. I am ok with the fact that I needed a break, and that the break I opted to take was not fighting with her over her benign wish to eat breakfast with her blankie.
I did something silly out of exhaustion, and I paid the price for it. It happens extremely infrequently here, but only because we set the stage when the girls were very young, so a lot of battles I simply don't HAVE to fight, but I know that for a lot of moms, that is just how it goes every day. They are too tired to do what they know needs to be done in order to maintain control of their homes and families. I can't even imagine how that must feel. No, that's not true. After today, I absolutely CAN imagine how that feels, and I know I would hate it.
So what can be done when you are in that position, and just too bone-tired to be the adult? For me, it was giving myself time to recover. I disengaged as best I could from the kids until I had time to pull myself together, put my mom jeans back on, and was able to perform as an adult again. They watched a movie while I sat and had a cup of coffee and let my brain go quiet. Perfect day? No. But after that I got the job done, and we made it through the day with only one other major skirmish. She wanted to sit on my lap for dinner, and I wanted her to sit in her booster seat, as she does at every other meal. I stood my ground that time, and oh, it felt so good to succeed. But you know who really won? My daughter. She may not have gotten what she wanted, but she got what she needed in having her mom there as the adult, taking control and making sure that her world continued to be safe, secure, and predictable.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Doing Things You Don't Want To Do
I often tell my children that life is full of things we don't want to do, and sometimes I have to remind myself that those words apply to me as well. I am not a social person by nature. In crowds, I am quiet and I watch from a safe space where I am unlikely to be approached. In small group settings, I feel like my small talk is glaringly awkward. This is fine for me, as I would prefer to be home reading a book, but is not so fine when it comes to setting a good example for my daughters. It was recently brought to my attention that my older daughter is starting to take after me in this aspect, and this is not ok with me.
Like every parent, I want my kids to be better than me.
This is something I need to actively work on, for both of us.
This week I broke both of us out of our solitary comfort zones. We went to the mall and took our Easter Bunny pictures with my husband's cousin, wife, and delightful (angelic, really) little baby girl, and then the whole kit and kaboodle of us went out to eat. It was a blast, and the other couple were so warm and engaging that I never once felt out of place. They live only a few minutes away from us, and yet this is the first time we've all gotten together, which is a shame. I hope we do it again, and soon. But even more than that, I hope I can get over my silly social anxiety and pick up the phone to call her to facilitate another meet up. And when I do, I will do it with my daughter in the room. She may not understand, but knowing that she is watching me will help me to overcome my fears.
We also attended an Easter egg hunt at the local school, hosted by a mom's group. That was slightly less successful of a venture. My daughter was overwhelmed and seemed quite surprised that there were so many people of her own size there. She was intrigued by the older kids, friendly and outgoing with the adults, but nervous of her peers.
Fixing this is a priority for me, and will be my mission this summer! My girls shouldn't ever need to know what it feels like to get tongue tied because some girl compliments their shoes and they don't know how to respond.
Like every parent, I want my kids to be better than me.
This is something I need to actively work on, for both of us.
This week I broke both of us out of our solitary comfort zones. We went to the mall and took our Easter Bunny pictures with my husband's cousin, wife, and delightful (angelic, really) little baby girl, and then the whole kit and kaboodle of us went out to eat. It was a blast, and the other couple were so warm and engaging that I never once felt out of place. They live only a few minutes away from us, and yet this is the first time we've all gotten together, which is a shame. I hope we do it again, and soon. But even more than that, I hope I can get over my silly social anxiety and pick up the phone to call her to facilitate another meet up. And when I do, I will do it with my daughter in the room. She may not understand, but knowing that she is watching me will help me to overcome my fears.
We also attended an Easter egg hunt at the local school, hosted by a mom's group. That was slightly less successful of a venture. My daughter was overwhelmed and seemed quite surprised that there were so many people of her own size there. She was intrigued by the older kids, friendly and outgoing with the adults, but nervous of her peers.
Fixing this is a priority for me, and will be my mission this summer! My girls shouldn't ever need to know what it feels like to get tongue tied because some girl compliments their shoes and they don't know how to respond.
In Response to "Don't Carpe Diem"
I have seen link after link to Momastery's blog post entitled Don't Carpe Diem and the first time I read it, I kind of chuckled, somewhat related to some of it, and moved on. But after something that happened this week, I feel as though I need to respond to it.
Two days ago, on Easter Sunday, I hustled both of my girls in their adorable little dresses into Dunkin Donuts for an emergency coffee. Yes. An EMERGENCY COFFEE. It happens. An older couple were sitting at a table, and their eyes lit up at the sight of my two in their Easter finery. I knew it was coming.
"Oh! Just look at them! How beautiful they are! It seems like just yesterday that my girls were as small and taking them shopping for their Easter dresses was one of the highlights of my year. Enjoy every minute, it goes by so fast." She was teary eyed and smiling all at the same time.
It wasn't so much her words that got to me, but the emotion that was behind her words. As the mom of young children, she had probably had plenty of mornings similar to mine; out of coffee, screaming kids who didn't want to put tights on, husband stuck at work, and running two hours (oh yes) late. It happens to all of us. Those are the minutes that seem so endless and make being a mom feel like such a rat race sometimes.
But as the tears slid down her face, I looked at my girls through her eyes. I looked at my older daughter, beautiful and confident, shaking hands and saying "Pleased to meet you," to this woman and her husband. I looked at my younger daughter, her huge eyes and giant smile, so proud to be in a matching dress with her big sister, her idol.
Yes, this was one of those moments to cherish. But so were the other moments, the ones that I most definitely did not cherish at the time. The rat race moments. The mess moments. The tantrum moments. The tired moments.
The sleepless nights of having a newborn are already gone. I miss them. I would give anything to have those nights back, because I will never again have a teensy new soul snuggled up against my chest. And the other moments are fading fast, even as they still happen. The Cheerios all over the kitchen floor will be gone soon enough. The toddler tantrums will someday be a distant memory as a defiant pre-teen stares at me in some horrible tween store, and I will miss the day when my precious little munchkin was upset because she wanted her shirt off and on at the same time. And even that moment will some day make me wax nostalgic as I send my baby off to college and cry all that night because she is no longer under the safety of this roof and these arms.
So yes. Seize the moment. Seize every freaking moment and hug it until you truly appreciate it. Cherish the exhaustion. Cherish the mess. Cherish the tears. If you find you cannot, you have too much on your plate, and you need to find a way to clear your plate a bit. This may mean letting some housework go by the wayside, ordering pizza once a week, cutting back at work and quitting cable and Starbucks to make up for it. Do whatever you need to do to find a way to cherish those moments.
Someday you will be sitting alone on a holiday and you will wax nostalgic at two little girls in their Easter dresses and you will finally understand what that old lady meant, because you will be that old lady, not a cocky thirty something who thinks no one can understand how tough it is to be you. She knows. She was you fifty years ago.
Two days ago, on Easter Sunday, I hustled both of my girls in their adorable little dresses into Dunkin Donuts for an emergency coffee. Yes. An EMERGENCY COFFEE. It happens. An older couple were sitting at a table, and their eyes lit up at the sight of my two in their Easter finery. I knew it was coming.
"Oh! Just look at them! How beautiful they are! It seems like just yesterday that my girls were as small and taking them shopping for their Easter dresses was one of the highlights of my year. Enjoy every minute, it goes by so fast." She was teary eyed and smiling all at the same time.
It wasn't so much her words that got to me, but the emotion that was behind her words. As the mom of young children, she had probably had plenty of mornings similar to mine; out of coffee, screaming kids who didn't want to put tights on, husband stuck at work, and running two hours (oh yes) late. It happens to all of us. Those are the minutes that seem so endless and make being a mom feel like such a rat race sometimes.
But as the tears slid down her face, I looked at my girls through her eyes. I looked at my older daughter, beautiful and confident, shaking hands and saying "Pleased to meet you," to this woman and her husband. I looked at my younger daughter, her huge eyes and giant smile, so proud to be in a matching dress with her big sister, her idol.
Yes, this was one of those moments to cherish. But so were the other moments, the ones that I most definitely did not cherish at the time. The rat race moments. The mess moments. The tantrum moments. The tired moments.
The sleepless nights of having a newborn are already gone. I miss them. I would give anything to have those nights back, because I will never again have a teensy new soul snuggled up against my chest. And the other moments are fading fast, even as they still happen. The Cheerios all over the kitchen floor will be gone soon enough. The toddler tantrums will someday be a distant memory as a defiant pre-teen stares at me in some horrible tween store, and I will miss the day when my precious little munchkin was upset because she wanted her shirt off and on at the same time. And even that moment will some day make me wax nostalgic as I send my baby off to college and cry all that night because she is no longer under the safety of this roof and these arms.
So yes. Seize the moment. Seize every freaking moment and hug it until you truly appreciate it. Cherish the exhaustion. Cherish the mess. Cherish the tears. If you find you cannot, you have too much on your plate, and you need to find a way to clear your plate a bit. This may mean letting some housework go by the wayside, ordering pizza once a week, cutting back at work and quitting cable and Starbucks to make up for it. Do whatever you need to do to find a way to cherish those moments.
Someday you will be sitting alone on a holiday and you will wax nostalgic at two little girls in their Easter dresses and you will finally understand what that old lady meant, because you will be that old lady, not a cocky thirty something who thinks no one can understand how tough it is to be you. She knows. She was you fifty years ago.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Why I'm Not Strictly An Old Fashioned Parent
Most of the self proclaimed Old Fashioned Parenting adherents talk about the fact that they are not their children's friends. They frequently mention that they don't play with their children, because that is what siblings and friends are for, while parents are for providing food, shelter, and other needs. I agree that I am not their friend, because I am their mother. I love them endlessly, and really like everything about them, but I am not their buddy, I am the parent.
But I do not agree with not playing with the kids, not even a slight bit. In fact, I think playing is one of my most important jobs. While I encourage them to play independently, or, even better, with each other, about 50% of their play time includes me. I do this for many reasons. First, because I actually enjoy playing with my kids, and it is easily the best part of my day. Second, I play with them because playing is the easiest way to teach. And third, because if left to play 100% on their own, they would not truly understand how much I enjoy their company. If our time together was spent only on things like meals and bedtime, how could they possibly know that I like them, not just love them?
Sometimes the play is guided by educational intent; we do shape identification puzzles, we draw letters, we play memory games. Sometimes we play with trains or make bead necklaces. My favorite times though, are when we just get silly. Tonight, while putting cream on the toddler's back, she asked if she could have some cream to put on Daddy's face. He very obligingly laid down so she could access his face, and she carefully layered on several inches of cream on his right eyeball. The three of us (well, not him so much) were giggling so hard I almost couldn't get a picture, but fortunately I persevered and got not only a picture, but a video that I will cherish always, for the sound of my daughter's and my laughter blending together. I can't upload the video, but you can kinda hear the laughter in the picture too!
But I do not agree with not playing with the kids, not even a slight bit. In fact, I think playing is one of my most important jobs. While I encourage them to play independently, or, even better, with each other, about 50% of their play time includes me. I do this for many reasons. First, because I actually enjoy playing with my kids, and it is easily the best part of my day. Second, I play with them because playing is the easiest way to teach. And third, because if left to play 100% on their own, they would not truly understand how much I enjoy their company. If our time together was spent only on things like meals and bedtime, how could they possibly know that I like them, not just love them?
Sometimes the play is guided by educational intent; we do shape identification puzzles, we draw letters, we play memory games. Sometimes we play with trains or make bead necklaces. My favorite times though, are when we just get silly. Tonight, while putting cream on the toddler's back, she asked if she could have some cream to put on Daddy's face. He very obligingly laid down so she could access his face, and she carefully layered on several inches of cream on his right eyeball. The three of us (well, not him so much) were giggling so hard I almost couldn't get a picture, but fortunately I persevered and got not only a picture, but a video that I will cherish always, for the sound of my daughter's and my laughter blending together. I can't upload the video, but you can kinda hear the laughter in the picture too!
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Getting To Say Yes
I want to make the world a magical place for my daughters. I absolutely love getting to say yes to them, or giving them special treats. It would be wonderful to be able to say yes to them all the time, and give them everything imaginable. In a perfect world, that kind of indulgence would result in positive outcomes, but in our world, that doesn't seem to be the case.
It is pretty obvious after spending any amount of time at the playground that too much indulgence doesn't tend to result in happy, well behaved children. Overheard today.
"Ryan, time to go," says a mom with a bit of desperation in her voice.
4 year old Ryan ignores her.
"Hey buddy, time to go. Daddy will be home soon, and we need to cook dinner."
Ryan ignores her.
"Come on Ry Ry. Time to go. You can pick whatever you want to watch on the ride home." Mom is now begging.
"No!" Ryan shrieks and runs away, urging his giggling playmates to run away with him.
She follows him to the other side of the playground. He and the other boys run back towards where I am sitting.
"Come on buddy. You can have a cupcake while I cook!" She sneaks a peek at me to see if I am judging her for this. I'm honestly not, as, for all I know, she and Ryan are just having an off day, which I have certainly experienced with my own kids. But I do feel badly for her. She is receiving no respect from her child, and that has got to hurt.
Eventually she bribes Ryan into leaving with her, and I watch my toddler dumping sand on her delighted little sister while I think about what I just saw. How would I handle that if it were my child?
First off, I would have given him a five minute warning, and a one minute warning. I think that helps set the stage for the actions and consequences to follow. When time was up, I would tell them it was time to go, just as she did. But if my child ignored me, I would simply go pick him up and we'd leave, shrieking and kicking or not. He would be welcome to scream for as long as he wanted, but I'm the adult, and I make the rules.
Now, there is a flip side to this scenario. If my child were always well behaved, and always respectfully listened when I said it was time to leave, this is what would happen...
"Ryan, time to go."
"Mom, I am really having a lot of fun. Can I please have five more minutes?"
"Of course."
Isn't that a heck of a lot nicer? And no, I'm not dreaming. My 2 year old has already mastered this skill. She is a dream to shop with. No tantrums, no grabbing things off the shelf, no running off. So when she politely asks for a special treat, I get to say yes if it is appropriate, and if it is not appropriate, she gets a valid explanation which she actually listens to and respects. Her most frequent request is to pick which fruit we buy at the grocery store. She asks if she may pick, and I say yes. Saying yes to her feels SO good, because she has earned it through great behavior.
I do need to point out that I never tell her that this is a reward, as I don't believe that it is. I don't want our relationship to be based on reward/punishment. Instead, I look at it as a sign of mutual respect. She respects me enough to be well behaved and polite, and I respect that she is a nice person, and I treat her like a nice person. When she is not acting with respect, and she is not acting like a nice person, I will not be able to say yes to her. It is not a punishment, it is simply the way it goes. A punishment is being sent to your room, or being grounded. This is the back and forth flow of a relationship.
It is pretty obvious after spending any amount of time at the playground that too much indulgence doesn't tend to result in happy, well behaved children. Overheard today.
"Ryan, time to go," says a mom with a bit of desperation in her voice.
4 year old Ryan ignores her.
"Hey buddy, time to go. Daddy will be home soon, and we need to cook dinner."
Ryan ignores her.
"Come on Ry Ry. Time to go. You can pick whatever you want to watch on the ride home." Mom is now begging.
"No!" Ryan shrieks and runs away, urging his giggling playmates to run away with him.
She follows him to the other side of the playground. He and the other boys run back towards where I am sitting.
"Come on buddy. You can have a cupcake while I cook!" She sneaks a peek at me to see if I am judging her for this. I'm honestly not, as, for all I know, she and Ryan are just having an off day, which I have certainly experienced with my own kids. But I do feel badly for her. She is receiving no respect from her child, and that has got to hurt.
Eventually she bribes Ryan into leaving with her, and I watch my toddler dumping sand on her delighted little sister while I think about what I just saw. How would I handle that if it were my child?
First off, I would have given him a five minute warning, and a one minute warning. I think that helps set the stage for the actions and consequences to follow. When time was up, I would tell them it was time to go, just as she did. But if my child ignored me, I would simply go pick him up and we'd leave, shrieking and kicking or not. He would be welcome to scream for as long as he wanted, but I'm the adult, and I make the rules.
Now, there is a flip side to this scenario. If my child were always well behaved, and always respectfully listened when I said it was time to leave, this is what would happen...
"Ryan, time to go."
"Mom, I am really having a lot of fun. Can I please have five more minutes?"
"Of course."
Isn't that a heck of a lot nicer? And no, I'm not dreaming. My 2 year old has already mastered this skill. She is a dream to shop with. No tantrums, no grabbing things off the shelf, no running off. So when she politely asks for a special treat, I get to say yes if it is appropriate, and if it is not appropriate, she gets a valid explanation which she actually listens to and respects. Her most frequent request is to pick which fruit we buy at the grocery store. She asks if she may pick, and I say yes. Saying yes to her feels SO good, because she has earned it through great behavior.
I do need to point out that I never tell her that this is a reward, as I don't believe that it is. I don't want our relationship to be based on reward/punishment. Instead, I look at it as a sign of mutual respect. She respects me enough to be well behaved and polite, and I respect that she is a nice person, and I treat her like a nice person. When she is not acting with respect, and she is not acting like a nice person, I will not be able to say yes to her. It is not a punishment, it is simply the way it goes. A punishment is being sent to your room, or being grounded. This is the back and forth flow of a relationship.
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