Because I am a grown up like that

So, I'm glad to read I'm not the only mom who still makes school lunches for her kids. Also, on days the kids choose to take a lunch from home, I also put a note inside each one. Nothing too mushy or gushy, just a quick note to "have a great day!" with a smiley face .... love, Mom

The notes are no big surprise since I do them every day, and this morning I was writing them out at the kitchen table while the kids were eating breakfast. Kellen said, "Is that my lunch note?" and the tone in his voice alerted me .....

"Do you not want a note anymore?" I asked. "Do you feel like they're silly, or you're too old?"

Don't get me wrong, I love writing them, and hoping that they give my kids a little boost mid-day, but I wouldn't ever want to embarrass them in front of their friends.

"Well," Kellen said, "It's just that some of the boys I sit with take them and read them."

"Read them in a 'oh, your mom is so cool' kind of way, or read them to make fun of you kind of way?" I asked.

"Making fun" Kellen replied.

{{now before we go any further, these boys are Kellen's friends, and its in no way a bully situation. Just boys harrassing boys ... being boys ... acting like boys ...}}

"OK," I said. "I'll stop sending them. I don't want to embarrass you."

"I like the notes," Kellen admitted. "I just wish the other boys wouldn't read them."

"Hmmmm." I said, "Let's do this. Starting tomorrow, I'll put the notes in a secret pocket of your lunchbox. That way they won't be able to see them. But for today, let them find it, ok?"

And this is the note I put in Kellen's lunchbox today:

Kellen,
It's too bad so many people in the world (you know who I'm talking about, don't you? And if you're reading this note, so do YOU ....) are such flatulating buttheads. Have a great day!!
Mom

Still not as bad as 2005

First day of school:

Child #3 forgot both her water bottle and her snack.

Child #3's best friend needed a baggie to hold her extra pencils.

Thankfully we live so close to the school I could run home and get everything the girls needed and bring it all back to school before the day had really even started.

But then I left my umbrella there in the classroom.

It was raining.


Second day of school:

I forgot to ask my children the night before if they wanted to buy lunch at school, or pack a lunch from home. (Hush, I realize my children are old enough to pack their own lunches but I'm still trying to play the "good mother at the beginning of the school year" shtick.)

This morning, after looking at the cafeteria menu for today, all three informed me they wanted to pack a lunch. Of course they did.

Kendrie wanted a ham and cheese sandwich, but informed me there was no more lunchmeat. I told her she could have pb&j.

Kellen informed me the cheese had been left open by accident and was hard. I told him HE could have pb&J, too.

Brayden said she would actually PREFER pb&j, but that Blaine had finished the last loaf of bread a few days ago and forgot to tell me.

Blaine confirmed this to be true.

(sigh)

So, Blaine ran to the store to buy lunch meat, cheese, and bread, and hey, while you're there, we need another gallon of milk and the kids would probably love if you'd buy some of those individual bags of cheetos that I am always too cheap to buy, thanks, honey.

He came home and I rushed to make the lunches.

Which Child #1 AND Child #2 walked off and left sitting on the kitchen table.

When we realized it, half way to the school, I told them children not to worry. I would bring their lunches to the school this morning and leave them in the office.

At which point Kellen said, "Never mind, I don't want to eat it anyway."

At which point **I** said, "Oh. You WILL eat that lunch, and {insert scary demon voice} YOU. WILL. LIKE. IT."

But hey, at least they all three made it to school, unlike my nephew, who missed his first day of middle school ever, thanks to some mystery "summer virus" that rendered him home in bed with a high fever and sore throat on the first day.

Something tells me that the weeping coming from my sister's house yesterday morning wasn't from happy baby angels ....

And still, NONE of it was as bad as this year.

Dear anyone I've ever met in my life before,

I feel as though I possibly owe you an apology.

Specifically, if I met you during the years of 1985 through 1997, and said anything at all, made one comment or even a single statement, about parenting, child-rearing, discipline, control, obedience, or parental authority. Because I did not yet have children, and although I was unaware of it at the time, I was clearly TALKING OUT OF MY ASS.

I attended a scrapbook retreat this weekend with about twenty women who were all friendly, cheerful, lovely. However, as is often the case in life (or more specifically, at scrapbook retreats where tables are lined up next to one another) some people talk more loudly than others, and when you are in close proximity to other people's conversations, you (meaning ME) sometimes cannot help but overhear.

Earlier today, I eavesdropped couldn't help but hear a conversation between two women, one who had children, and one who was a newlywed and did not have children. The conversation, which wound up and down and around for probably close to an hour, consisted of the child-less newlywed telling the other woman how she and her husband had already had many discussions and come to complete agreement about how they would raise their children. The things they would allow, the things they would not allow. Behaviors that would be tolerated, behaviors that would not, child rearing techniques that were pre-approved and those that were already dismissed as crap.

The other woman was only too eager to chime in as a parental "authority". She spoke volumes about her experience raising her children, and what she had decreed to be "right" and "wrong" in the field of parenting. She discussed at great length the successes she has had, the challenges she has faced, the trials of raising happy, obedient, curious children, and the overwhelming joy she takes in knowing she has done her job well. The age of her oldest child? Five.

I listened to this conversation .... to the claims and comments about "My child won't..." and "My child will ...." and "I will never ..." and "I will always ..." and I swear, my eyes rolled so far back in my head I could see my own tramp stamp.

Then I started laughing because holy cow, they sounded so ridiculous, and I'm sure I used to sound just like them!

I looked over at my girlfriend Alisa, herself the mother of four, who laughed with me and whispered, "Just wait. She'll be blessed with a 'spirited' child and will have to eat every word." Actually, what she said was, "Just watch. She'll get one just like Luke." Luke is Alisa's third-born and although *I* think he is delightful, Alisa promises he is a handful.

Now, I make no claim to be a child-rearing expert. As I type this, one child is eating Sweet Tarts for dinner (at 9:30 at night, after returning home from a birthday swim party where I forgot to send sunscreen). Another child is on the sofa, watching television, butt naked, because clothes are "too much work". And the third child has gone to her room to pout, angry with me, because *she* had to pay a fine because *her* library books were late.

Clearly, I have room for improvement in the parenting-skills arena. And I know these women will most likely come to realize the same things about themselves some day.

I'm not even sure I'll have the hang of this parenting gig by the time they're eighteen and off to college, but as long as they're off to college and not in jail I'll consider it at least a moderate success. (touch wood, please no jail!)

So to anyone who might have been caught in the crossfire of me and my delusional parenting plans and expertise -- you know, the expertise I had BEFORE I had kids -- I'm truly sorry.

Helicopter Parent

I do not, for the record, consider myself a helicopter parent. I keep close tabs on my kids, sure. I like to think of myself as attentive, involved, and caring. But I don't particularly hover, and I don't freak out when my kids aren't within immediate eyesight or earsight. I've gone away on overnight trips, on scrapbooking weekends with my girlfriends, and on a two-week cruise (sans kids) with Blaine. The kids, in the reverse, have all three spent time away from us on playdates and sleepovers at other kids houses. Give them roots, give them wings, yadda yadda yadda.

All that to say --- Kellen is gone to a three day, two night sleep-away camp at a university away from home, with no way to contact him except in the event of an extreme emergency ..... and I (sniff, sniff) miss him more than I ever thought I would.

I think the difference is that when he spends the night with friends, I know their mothers. I have the knowledge that I can get ahold of him any time I want. Not that I DO, just that I CAN.

At football camp, he is one of six hundred boys, and those counselors don't know him personally. They don't know his name; they don't know anything about him. They don't know that he's using an alarm clock to wake himself up for breakfast for the first time in his life. They don't know that he likes chocolate milk instead of white, they're not going to remind him that I left extra money in his suitcase in case he gets hungry, they're not going to remind him to lock the room behind him when he leaves, they don't know that he's too self-conscious to ask for help if he needs it, and they sure as heck don't care if he remembers to put on the sunscreen I left for him.

Do I think he'll be fine? Yes.

Do I think he'll manage to work the alarm clock and make it to breakfast on time? Yes.

Do I think he's having fun, learning tons about football, and enjoying himself with his friend Chance while they stay in the dorms? Yes, yes, and yes.

But it's breaking my heart just a little bit.

Conversation earlier today:

Me: "It feels weird without Kellen here. I wonder how he's doing. I wonder what he's doing RIGHT NOW. I wonder if he's having fun. I wonder how the practices are going. I wonder how the food in the cafeteria is. I wonder if he misses us, too."

Kendrie: "It does feel weird. Like part of our family is missing."

Brayden: "All I've noticed is how much quieter is it around here."

How on earth will he AND Brayden I survive FIVE DAYS of church camp later this summer??



A large number of the boys attending the camp are day campers, and their parents are responsible for getting the boys to and from practice, and they stay during the practices, also. I figured it couldn't hurt the first day if I stuck around, too, even if Kellen is an overnight camper and I didn't *technically* need to be there. I blended in with the hundreds of other parents ... and it gave me a chance to watch what they were doing .... and whisper goodbye one last time when Kellen ran past me on his way back to the dorms, happy as a clam .....

Hey, it's just like Dear Abby! Only not really .....

...because instead of offering advice, it seems I'm always coming to you, ASKING for advice. This time, though, I'm asking for a friend. (I know, that's what people always say when they're trying to pretend its not them ... but honest, this time it really IS for a friend!) She wrote after reading everyone's comments earlier this week and has a situation she thought someone might have a suggestion for. So let me throw it out there on her behalf, and if you have any ideas, please leave a comment. Thanks!

PS. I promise, this isn't turning into some lame parenting advice blog. I've got too many other, important things to talk about, like my love for Sonic, and our summer roly-poly infestation that has begun, and the bizarre-o tattoos I saw at the water park today.....

"Hey Kristie!
I was reading the update on your blog & found it interesting & informative. I too sometimes have trouble w/ kids misbehaving w/ plans already made & it being a big, huge hassle to cancel the plans. I do the best that I can to correct the child & punish them in the right way. Now I have a question for you that maybe you can ask your blog readers & not mention that its from me! Not sure if anyone from here knows you & reads your blog too! What do you do when a certain child is ALWAYS at your house & never asks your child over? The mom always says that we need to have your child over yet never does! When we talk of getting the kids together, she always offer to bring her child over, never asking my child to come over. Its my child's best friend. Help? I don't want to end the friendship yet I don't want to go all summer w/that child here & my child never there. That child is always polite and nice to have around. Its just the fairness of it all. How do you handle situations like this? Thanks!"

Some new strategies, some not

I want to say thanks to all of you who chimed in on the "summer fun time vs. annoying, ungrateful kids" topic. The vast majority of the comments were well-intentioned and respectful, and for that I am very thankful. I appreciate anyone who takes the attitude .... "Here's my experience; here's my opinion. This works for *our* family. It might not work for *yours*, but it's a suggestion I am willing to make WITHOUT assuming you are the dumbest person on the planet for even contemplating for one single solitary second that it might not be the best suggestion ever made in the history of the universe for *your* family, because all families are different, and all kids are different, and what works as gospel for us might not for you and that's ok, too, because the bottom line is we're all just trying to make our way without insulting one another or debating this for a single second." Or something like that. I might be paraphrasing. I was simply glad no-one got snotty or judgmental.

The vast majority of suggestions were that we should scale back our activities, in order that the kids might appreciate them more. I think that point is perfectly valid. However, let me be the first to assure you that it's not a non-stop, 25-hr a day circus around here. I'm as big a proponent of "down time" as the next mom. We go to the library once a week so they always have something to read, and we do "schoolwork" every day during the week, a time when the kids are sitting quietly at a table by themselves, working in workbooks or doing creative writing. My kids rarely play the Wii, we don't have any other gaming system, and they aren't obsessed with computers or videos. They do, however, have a tendency to turn into little couch potatoes in front of the tv if I don't monitor their time, which is probably another reason I like to get out of the house a lot --- they're perfectly content to watch 37 episodes of iCarly without moving, or the Three Ninjas Knuckle Up movie five times in a row (I speak from personal experience this weekend, and for the record, that might be the dumbest movie ever made ....Seriously? I'm supposed to believe a little eight-year old boy can take out seven grown men, all the while wearing an Indian headdress and shouting "hyah!!" ??? When I expressed disbelief to Kellen, he informed me, "Not a boy, Mom, but a highly skilled trained NINJA!" And the sad part is, he was dead serious. )

I think (and again, this is just me speaking for my three) that they are a little too old for "quiet time in their rooms", but they do **play** in their rooms (or on the staircase!) and I do encourage independent projects. In case you don't believe me, the words. "I don't care if you're bored, find something to do or I'll give you chores" came out of my mouth just today. :)

As luck would have it, when they were younger and I was more uptight about "safety", they actually had much more freedom to go outside and play. In Georgia, there were four other families with young children on our street, and it wasn't uncommon for all the kids to be outside from morning until evening, playing with one another, up and down the street.

Here, we live in an old neighborhood. There are no parks or trails or fields or creeks or playgrounds within walking distance. The playground at the elementary school is fenced and locked. There are none within biking distance (at least not any that I feel safe letting them go to alone.) There are ZERO children on our street, and only a few on the streets around us. The houses are small, on small lots, with small yards. So I find it slightly ironic (and frustrating) that now, when my kids are old enough -- in my opinion -- to have a bit more freedom to explore the neighborhood and play with friends, they no longer have the opportunity. And I do send them "outside to play" quite often, but it's never long before they are complaining they are bored and could we invite friends over??? There's something a little bit sad about watching your son try and scrimmage himself in soccer in the back yard ..... And then there you go, it's a scheduled play-date, the very thing I should cut back on.

I'm not telling you these things because I'm defensive about my parenting (ok, maybe I am, just a little) but rather to help clear up the (what I believe is a) misconception I somehow gave that we have activities planned every morning and every night, from sun up until sun down.

However, I do acknowledge that more down time, and encouraging them to make more of their own fun, wouldn't be a bad idea, and that is one of the things we're going to work on.

I love the idea of saving a fun activity for the end of the week and letting the kids earn it; so we've designated Fridays for that. We're also going to let each kid take turns picking the Friday activity from a pre-approved list. When we sat down with them and asked them to suggest activities, they ranged from "lunch with dad" or "more family movie nights" to "more time at the local water park", "Six Flags", and "can we go back to Great Wolf Lodge?" .... clearly, they ran the gamut.

We also sat the kids down and told them I would NOT cancel plans or un-invite friends if one of them misbehaves. I agree with everyone who said that is unfair to too many people. If, however, one of them misbehaves in the morning, the offender will have to sit out at least a portion of that day's activities. If it happens during the activity, they will also sit out. If it happens on the way home, or on a day we're staying home, or in the evening, we instituted a "chore jar" --- strips of paper with household chores above and beyond their normal chores. Really gross stuff that I don't like to do either, like cleaning baseboards and toilets and vacuuming out the van. I bought a small notebook to keep track if a child is told they must "pull a chore strip" during the day (because yes, I am the kind of parent who would forget ....) and they must pull the strip and do the chore the minute they get home. We're going on three days and no strips yet, although Brayden and Kendrie both came very close today and only got out of it by apologizing (UN-prompted) to one another for their actions.

I also started writing down a list of what we did (or didn't do) each day, and who got to invite a friend/have a sleepover/attend a play date/etc. I hope this will help me when the inevitable "It's not fair!" debate begins about how one child always is the preferred one. Of course, whichever child *that* is depends on who feels slighted and who is doing the arguing. According to all three of the kids, I ALWAYS favor "the other two" ... and best as I can tell, that's mathematically impossible. I just need to help them understand it, and also help them understand "Because I said so" is indeed a complete sentence.

I also need to work on my knee-jerk parenting style when it comes to arguing. A private e-mail I received from a friend brought up a good point .... even though arguing is annoying and drives me batty, it is one way that kids learn to work out disagreements and solve problems. So I'll be trying harder to balance a healthy amount of "letting them work it out without butting in" with "hush stop arguing for pete's sake because I said so that's why!"

So in a nutshell:

1. Fewer activities over all, although no-one is going to confuse us with homebodies, even with a calmer schedule, because *I* like to get out socially, too.

2. More "delayed" activities, IF they are earned, and letting the kids take a more active part in planning them.

3. Clearer punishment for kids who argue, fuss, fight, moan, complain, or in any way make life miserable for the rest of us.

4. More chocolate for me.

(Well, come on. That's just a given, isn't it?)

Thanks again for chiming in. I'd love to hear who else got some great ideas from the comments section, and how they're working out for you.

It takes a virtual village ...... (and a lot of chocolate.)

A question for all you child-rearing experts

Which, you know, basically means "any parent that reads this."

Or, it doesn't even have to be a parent. Anyone who has an opinion about kids should feel free to weigh in. A teacher, a counselor, a babysitter. Or even anyone who raises, say, hamsters. Because you never know. Maybe someone with hamsters has the same problem and has found a better way to handle it.

This is actually a problem we run into year-round, but I know from experience that will only get worse now that summer is officially here.

In a nutshell, I like to stay busy with my kids. And since we have so much more free time in the summer, I have a tendency to plan way more stuff. Water parks, museums, local swimming pools, movies, bowling, playdates .... you name it, we typically have *something* planned every day. Not necessarily something that costs money, I'm all about parks and riding bikes and those kinds of activities as well.

I always have these high expectations, and visions of how these things will pan out. In my vision, my children are laughing, happy, grateful little munchkins who are always on their best behavior and smile and say thank you and frequently help little old ladies cross the street.

In reality ........... well ............ you know how it goes.

Seems inevitably *someone* is tired or crabby or frustrated. And nothing ruins the mood faster than a whiny, ungrateful little brat.

I'm totally not above canceling plans mid-stream if I don't like the way the kids are behaving. Case in point: last Sunday, the kids wanted icees after church. Half way to 7-11 they were arguing and sniping with one another in the car, so I made it a point to drive right past 7-11 without stopping, then go on home, telling them exactly why they weren't getting a treat that day. Usually there is outraged protest, then complaining that it was so-and-so's fault, then wheedling and pleading, then grudging acceptance.

But sadly, the lesson never seems to stick, and before too much longer, I'm canceling plans again.

Quite frankly, it really pisses me off.

My dilemma, however, is how to handle these situations during the summer, when more often than not, other people are involved as well.

If I've let the kids each invite a friend to the movies, and one kid is being argumentative right off, do I call all three friends and cancel the entire day? Then five kids are being punished for the behavior of one.

Now that we live near family, I've considered dropping the offender off at Grandma's and going about our day with the kids who behaved ... but I hate for Grandma's house to be equated with "punishment", and truth be told, Grandma Betty has a life of her own and I'm not sure it would be feasible to assume she can provide last minute baby-sitting for whichever kid is acting ugly.

And then do I have to UN-invite the friend? Or do I honor the invitation we've extended, and take the friend without my child?

What if I've already rsvp'd for a birthday party, or had another mom invite my child out to do something, and THEN my kid acts up? Do I mess up someone else's plans by canceling?

If our family has planned to go to the lake for the weekend, and I've already bought all the groceries and told our hosts we will be there, I don't want to cancel. And I certainly can't leave one kid behind.

What if I've paid in advance for an event, or pre-purchased tickets, and they are acting so bad I don't want to go? Do I make the child pay me back? And then *I'm* mad because everyone's plans were ruined?

What if we're meeting another family for an activity? What if *I* instigated the event? Do I then call the other mom and say, "Sorry, I know this whole afternoon was my idea, but my kids are being brats and we're not coming" ??

I think that's exactly what I *should* do, but in truth, I have a hard time doing it. Not because I'm embarrassed to admit my kids are mis-behaving (anyone who KNOWS my kids knows it happens) but because I feel GUILT when other people are involved.

And I think my kids know it.

So they mis-behave, and I get angry, and they apologize, and we go on about our day. And normally, we have a very good time doing whatever it is we have planned to do.

But there's no incentive to stop them from arguing and whining and complaining again the next time.

Does anyone else experience this at all?

How do you punish one without punishing them all?

And what about when other families or kids are included?

Honestly, I think my kids GET so much, that sometimes they forget to be grateful for it, and forget to appreciate it. Threatening to take away a swim date isn't that big a deal, because we go swimming several times a week.

How do people manage this?

(No, really, that's not a rhetorical question ... I really would like to know.)

Probably part of the problem is me, overscheduling my children. Maybe if they sat at home more often, they'd appreciate getting to do the fun things. But I feel like I sat at home so long with Kendrie, when she was too sick to get out and do much. Now, I don't want to miss a single opportunity for fun.

But really, it's not much fun when they're fussing and fighting before we're even out the door. Sometimes I feel like I'm begging them to act nice, so *I* can have the pleasure of taking *them* to do something fun.

Anyone else? Anyone????

OMG U R CLUELESS

A few weeks ago our church started promoting a six-week special Sunday school class for parents, educators, whoever-might-be-interested, called "Understand Youth: Connecting with Teens in a MySpace World".

Or something like that.

I called to get more information and was told that the class was geared for people who deal with pre-teens and teens, specifically, middle schoolers and high schoolers. So Blaine and I decided to sign up.

NOT because we really need it, of course, is what we told ourselves. We did that smug parenting thing about how OUR children are not problem children and of COURSE the lines of communication are open at our house and we are VERY vested in our children's lives and EXTREMELY aware of what goes on and perhaps even more importantly, we are still hip. We're not like some of those old fuddy-duddys who are so out of touch with today's youth.

Nope, not us. We are dope. Or rad. Or getting jiggy with it? I can't really remember.

Today, the speaker started the talk by saying many people fall into one of two camps; one that believes the kids of today have never had more advantages and have never been better off, and one that believes the kids of today are hurting like no other generation before.

The speaker said he personally falls into the second camp, based on the extremely high levels of negative, unfortunate behavior being chosen and exhibited by teens of today. He mentioned drugs, innapropriate sexual conduct, binge drinking ......

Then he said, "And cutting, for example, was no where near in the past the problem it is now. Recent studies indicate up to five percent of all male college freshman cut on a regular basis, and up to nine percent of all female college freshman also cut on a regular basis."

And Blaine leaned over and whispered in my ear, "What's the big deal? I used to cut class all the time and I turned out OK."

Clearly, *I* am hip. But I just realized that I am married to a fuddy-duddy.

The Award Plaque. That is Not Mine.

You know that plaque that hangs in your hallway? The Good Parent of the Year plaque? Yes? No? Yeah, it’s not in my house either. In fact, I would venture to say today wouldn’t even make my top THOUSAND list of “Days I’ve enjoyed being a parent.”

It started out innocently enough. It’s Wednesday, after all, which is one of my favorite days of the week. Last fall, when school started, we realized that in between soccer, piano, choir, homework, and all the other stuff that tends to take over our lives when we’re not paying attention, we realized our family time was getting squished out the middle. So Blaine and I designated Wednesdays as “Family Fun Nights”, and we spend them together as a family, doing (hopefully) fun things. Otherwise, it would be “Family Boring Night” or “Family Let’s Watch Mom Do Some More Laundry Night” or whatever.

Some nights we go out to dinner, some nights we go out for ice cream, some nights we take bike rides, some nights we go to a park, some nights we stay home and play games …. It depends on the weather and our moods and our wallet. But we’ve stuck pretty faithfully to the plan and I think the kids enjoy it as much as Blaine and I do. The school doesn’t give homework on Wednesdays and the kids know not to ask for playdates …. Wednesdays are reserved. And I like it that way.

Today when I picked the kids up after school, I was excited to tell them our Family Fun Night tonight would be going to a matinee of “Hotel for Dogs”. They have been begging to see the movie ever since the very first time they saw the trailer of the dogs pooping on the conveyer belt --- ahhhhh, Oscar-worthy material, for sure. Then we would come home and have dinner together (God bless the person who invented the crock pot) and watch tonight’s episode of American Idol. Because I believe in exposing my children to educational television and all that.

Sure enough, when I told them, squeals abounded. There might have even been an excited jump or two in the air. Even better was that Dad would be meeting us at the movie … so, a true “Family” Fun Night.

We stopped at Wal-Greens on the way to buy candy (NOT that we are the kind of people who sneak candy into movies because that would be cheating and WRONG) and all three kids said they had to go to the bathroom first. So I took them to the back of the store where the bathroom is located, where for some reason, the heat had obviously gotten stuck on “Super Nova HIGH” and it was about 120 degrees. Brayden immediately starts exclaiming and gasping and clutching her throat like someone who has crawled across the Sahara Desert. At high noon. In July. With no water.

She is in such a rush to get out, vocalizing all the time about how “She cannot BREATHE in this heat!!!” that she literally almost knocks me over in the doorway. No “excuse me”, no “pardon me”, no “move over, would you …” just shoves me out of the way and pushes past. Which I thought was incredibly rude. Then she wandered off to browse the store without my permission.

I take Kellen and Kendrie to the candy aisle, where Kellen promptly picks out his candy and Kendrie asks if she can have popcorn instead. I say yes. Then I have to find Brayden, who is two aisles over looking at the #(*$&# Webkinz, and remind her we only have a few minutes to get to the theater.

She comes over and gets her candy, grumbling about how I always rush her, and we head to the checkout. After we lay the candy on the counter and the cashier starts ringing it up, Kendrie asks, “What about pop at the movie?” and like always, I say no. I don’t know why she keeps asking, the answer is always no. Of course then she starts complaining about how the popcorn will make her thirsty and she will NEED something to drink. So, being the awesome spectacular mom that I am, I tell all three kids they can pick a soda out of the case by the checkout. I say simply, “You won’t be able to take it in, but you can drink it before and after ….”

Well, that’s clearly not good enough. Brayden says they don’t have the kind she likes in the case. Kendrie is still complaining that it won’t help her when she’s inside eating popcorn, and a line is starting to form behind me as I remind them that in a nutshell, I am too darn cheap to pay twelve dollars so they can each have a small drink during the movie.

Kendrie gets mad and walks about ten feet away, arms folded across her chest, pouting. (No, mom, she doesn’t remind me of anyone --- why do you ask???) Kellen and Brayden have both made their choices and are standing to the side, making fun of her. Which makes me even more annoyed because I don’t need to hear it from them.

I turn to one side to tell Kendrie that she has ten seconds to either pick out her drink or she won’t get one, and then I turn to my other side to tell Brayden and Kellen to hush, and as I turn back to pay, I catch the very last nanosecond of the cashier exchanging “a look” with the customer in line behind me. I TOTALLY didn’t blame her, they were being completely obnoxious. But still, how embarrassing, because she was right.

We pay, and Kendrie is doing that pouting-dragging-feet-walk to the van, the entire time I’m telling them to come on, we have to go. Right before we reach the van Kellen says, “Wait, you mean we’re going to the movie right now?” and when I said yes, why did he think we were in such a hurry, he fires back with, “Well, great. By the time we get home it will be dark and I won’t even get to play outside. Do I HAVE to go to the movie??”

And that was the moment I had had it. Ungrateful, unappreciative little brats. I was trying to take them to a movie, that THEY wanted to see, not me, and buy them candy and soda before hand, and they’re giving me grief about every step of the process???

We got in the van, I made sure everyone was buckled up, and then made a very clear point of calling Blaine on the cell and telling him, “Don’t bother meeting us at the movies. The kids are not appreciating what I’m trying to do here and we won’t be going today.”

Oh, the fits that ensued. Kendrie went pretty much into total melt-down mode and had she been able, might have actually thrown herself on the floor, such was her despair. Brayden immediately started blaming everyone else and hurling accusations about how it was all THEIR fault, and then Kellen did that annoying pre-teen thing and said, “Fine! I’d rather go home anyway than watch that stupid movie!”

The whole way home I had to listen to them argue, complain, apologize, whine, and beg me to change my mind. I kept saying to them, “I know you’re sorry you acted ugly … I’m sorry, too. But it is what it is and we’re not going. I don’t do nice things for kids who act like that.”

Finally, after we got home, and they realized holy SHIT, mom is really not turning the van around and giving us another chance, things got accusatory, with Brayden informing me that the entire thing was MY FAULT for taking them to Wal-Greens anyway.

A short while later Blaine came home, having taken off early to go to the movie. Immediately they all three starting telling him how mean I was, how it was all my fault, how Family Fun Night is NEVER any fun because I ruin it all the time, and then Kendrie threw in the coup de grace, “I WISH I LIVED WITH ANOTHER FAMILY!!!!”

I said to Blaine, “Dinner is in the crockpot. I am done with these people.” and went to bed and took a two-hour nap. When I woke up, the girls apologized. You know what? I didn’t want to accept it. Is that terrible of me? I stayed annoyed with all three of them all evening. They were rude, they were ungrateful, they were argumentative, and they were blame-shifters. They never take responsibility for their actions or behavior, even if it’s hurtful, and it seems the more we do for them, the more they expect it.

How come nobody told me this was how some days would go? I know things will be better again tomorrow and I’ll remember how much I love them and just want to squeeze them and kiss them and talk to them and spend time with them because they are oh so cute and all mine and I adore them. But today? They’re brats.

And I don’t even WANT a plaque on the wall if this is the crap I have to put up with.

Proud Parenting Moment

"You're all ungrateful little brats and I'm sick of it!"

In the car.

On the way TO CHURCH.

Reason #4192 that I’m going straight to Hell in a hand-basket. And what is a hand-basket, anyway?

I love my children more than the grains of sand on the beach, and more than the droplets of water in the ocean. They are my sun, and my moon. I can’t imagine my life without them, and I am thankful every day that they’ve come into my life and fulfilled me as both a parent, and as a person.

They are driving me crazy. School starts tomorrow --- it won’t come quickly enough.

But that’s not why I’m going to Hell. I don’t think I’m that out of the ordinary for admitting that I’m glad school is starting up again. I imagine many of the parents … specifically moms … specifically, STAY AT HOME moms will be doing the Happy Dance in the school parking lot tomorrow morning right along with me.

I feel bad for families with dual-working parents in the summer, especially when the kids are too old for day care, but not old enough to stay by themselves. Lots of families we know have the hassle of trying to figure out what to do to keep their kids happy and busy and safe and entertained in the summer when neither parent is home during the day.

I also feel sorry for stay-at-home moms during the summer --- oh, wait, that would be **ME**. We love our kids, we really do. Personally, my kids and I have had a great summer --- lots of playing and swimming and hanging out and relaxing and getting to stay up extra late. Lots of spending quality time together --- laughing and going to Sonic and having sleepovers and spending time at the lake and making wonderful memories together.

And lots of arguing and bickering and whining and demanding. Lots of them insisting they are bored, then turning up their noses when I suggest activities. Lots of fighting over the computer. The biggest change for me is having them with me 24/7, when I’m used to them being in school. And I’ll admit that I’m more than ready for them to go back to school so I can have just a few hours a day to myself. Not that I’m going to be lying around eating bon-bons, or spending all day at the mall, or doing nothing but reading blogs ….. but simply to get the laundry done without having to make anyone lunch, or pay bills without being asked to referee an argument, or spend an hour of uninterrupted time on the computer, or even two minutes uninterrupted time in the bathroom. And to know it’s no longer my job to keep them happy and busy and safe and entertained every single minute of every single day.

So there. I said it out loud. “I am excited for my kids to start school tomorrow so I can go to Target by myself. So I can spend the day without the television turned to the Disney channel. So I can go out to eat in a grown-up restaurant for lunch. So I can spend a few hours with only myself for company … no tattling, no fussing, no fighting. SO I CAN POTTY IN PEACE.”
There. I admitted it, so sue me. But that’s not why I’m going to Hell.

I’m going to Hell because Blaine woke up yesterday morning with a head cold. Which mutated down his throat and turned into a stomach virus. Which caused him to wake up this morning puking his guts out, and to spend the entire day today lying on the bathroom floor with a pillow and blanket. When we left to go to the Meet and Greet your teacher this afternoon he had made it to the sofa. When we returned, he was back on the bathroom floor.

And when he called his doctor to try and get something for nausea, they told him they couldn’t get him in until tomorrow afternoon. And he said he understood, and would stay home until then.

So, the reason I’m going to Hell is because instead of rushing to his aid, with damp cloths and tepid Sprite and warm blankets and saltine crackers and lots and lots of sympathy, all I could think was, “You mean I’ve been waiting twelve damn weeks for a few measly hours of peace and quiet and you’re telling me you’re planning on staying HOME tomorrow????? Are you kidding me? You need to get better! Go to work! I want the house to myself tomorrow!!”

Empathy.

It’s what’s for dinner.

In Hell.

This hurts you more than it hurts me ....

It's never a good sign when the conversation with your eight-year old starts out like this:

8-yr old: "Mom, I'm not saying you're not smart. Just that doing it my way makes more sense."

It's even worse when you realize she's right.

One of Thoooooooooose days

Today was one of those days. One of thooooooose days. Nothing tragic happened, nothing calamitous. No one was sick or abducted or injured in any sort of tragic spear-fishing accident or anything. Just one of those days where if I’m being honest, I admit that for me, being a stay-at-home mom during the summer is WAY more work than during the school year. Because the kids are actually …. You know ….. HERE all day. WITH ME. Demanding all sorts of insufferable demands like bread and water and attention. Greedy little bastards.

All day, with the not-so-noticeable-as-to-be-blatant-but-just-under-my-skin-enough-to-drive-me-crazy whining and arguing and QUESTIONING everything. Every. Single. Thing. Not listening to what I say, not doing what I ask, going in a million different directions with the “Mom, this” and “Mom, that” and “Mom, she (fill in the blank)” and “Mom it’s not fair he (fill in yet another freaking blank)”. My decisions are always questioned in the hopes they can get me to change my mind. I can never please all three of them, so no matter what decision I make –about ANYTHING – where to eat lunch or where to go swimming or what to watch on tv …. SOMEONE accuses me of letting the OTHER ONES always get their way. “Because I said so” doesn’t hold as much weight in this house as I think it should, let me put it that way. And you know what? It’s exhausting.

They are tired from having company here all week, plus Kellen had soccer practice four nights this week, and Kendrie had her first soccer practice as well. Temperatures have been well over a hundred this week, so if you think running in that kind of heat isn’t tiring, think again. Plus she had a sleepover last night at a friend’s house and told me they stayed up until 1am. Brayden, well, I’m not sure what her excuse is except its apparently her job to fill in the gaps if her brother and sister aren’t doing a good enough job driving me nuts on their own.

My melt-down came in Target today, which is sad, because it’s one of my favorite stores in the whole world. I hate to think there is a sign near the cash registers now of my face with a big circle and a slash through it. We were buying school supplies, a simple-enough task. I was reading from the school list and instructing each kid on what they needed to take off the shelf and put in the cart. Simple enough, right? Take it OFF the shelf, and put it IN the cart. How hard can it be? But after the delimma of the pencils, and the drama of the glue sticks, and the saga of the erasers --- for goodness' sake, they're stupid pink erasers just pick some who cares what they look like?!?!?!?! None of them could decide exactly which notebooks they wanted and then Kellen got mad when Kendrie picked the same one he had. Brayden needs a new bike so I told her we would look, but the one she picked out was two hundred dollars and when I said “no way, Josie” she got mad because “she never gets anything she wants!” Kendrie kept asking to go to the pet aisle, and Kellen was frustrated with me because they didn’t have the shoes he wanted in his size. I’m not quite sure how that was my fault exactly … I guess because I didn’t pull a size 6 OUT OF MY ASS.

When we finally walked up to the register I saw another mom I know and stopped to say hello. We were chatting for a moment and the kids were being a little rude, interrupting and asking for candy off the register, and telling me to please hurry up so we could go to Petsmart and buy stuff for Barley’s arrival tomorrow. I had turned my back to chat and without me noticing, they emptied my entire cart onto the belt, making trip after trip after trip from my cart to the register. *Maybe* they thought they were being helpful??? But I thought it was rude, like they were rushing me, and I was embarrassed when the cashier had to holler at me to point out an entire line of people were waiting on me to finish my conversation and pay.

I was seriously. Not happy. And didn't quite make it outside the store before telling the kids just what I thought of their behavior.

Earlier in the day we had gone to the library and the kids checked out several books about golden retrievers. One of them had a dvd in it about early dog training and dog care. And the kids were watching the video with Blaine, and arguing about who would get to hold Barley on the way home tomorrow, and who would get to walk her first, and who would help dad brush her each evening and clean her teeth every day. And mean words were tossed about as they tried in vain to establish a pecking order with regard to the dog.

And I stood in the kitchen, preparing dinner, and all I could think was, “What have we done? What unbelievable error in judgment have we made??? We can’t manage the three HUMAN pets we have now …. And we’re getting another one? A real one? ONE THAT EATS ITS OWN POOP?!?!?!?!”

I fear we have made a tragic mistake.

Or perhaps I'm just not drinking enough.

CUL8TR! ROFLMAO! SDOISJNFODAVFBIDHNFOE!!!

Updated to add:

Something else I forgot to mention (yet another thing that I hate ... my gosh ... I am quite possibly the world's grumpiest person) is how much the acronyms and short-cut spellings that are used in IM'ing (yep, something else I refuse to do) and texting are ruining the plight of the English language. I've heard of teachers having to mark down papers because kids are using abbreviations instead of real words ... "that's just how they spell these days", which bothers me. So let's make that reason #4 Brayden doesn't need a cell phone ... the girl's spelling is atrocious enough as it is, why add to the confusion by letting her LOL and TTYL???

Someone asked: Oh as a footnote, I just sent my second text message Sunday (took FOREVER), and hubby still refuses to get a phone. Does Blaine have one? Yes, Blaine and I both have cell phones, and neither of us text. Blaine actually has a Blackberry, as is required by his work. Due to security clearances for military e-mails, his phone is given to him by the government because it's the only phone from which he can check his e-mails. It also has internet access which he uses very infrequently. I'll admit it's convenient at home because we only have one computer so he never needs on it (unlike my kids, who currently have obsessions with the Webkinz site and some weird warlord game that Kellen is addicted to**) My phone is a no-frills phone. It doesn't even have (gasp!) a camera! I use it to make calls only ... no texting, no internet. And I've never been anywhere that wasn't enough for me.

**PS I'm kidding about the addiction. Well, maybe not, he does love it an awful lot. But the kids have a 30-minute a day limit on computer time, so I'm not too worried it's going to get out of hand ... yet. :)




OK, so seriously, all kidding aside, I would love to know what you guys think ...

Brayden went to a birthday slumber party a few weeks ago. A girl from her class at school was turning eleven. There were approximately ten other girls from school there, all the same age (fifth going into sixth grade .... official middle school-ers this fall … excuse me while I weep into my hankie because my precious baby is not a baby anymore.)

Brayden came home from the party and informed me that she was the only .... ONLY .... girl there without her own cell phone. The birthday girl was given hers as a gift from her parents at the party. I said, "Do you mean their parent's cell phone that they brought to the party?" and she said no, their OWN, personal, private cell phone. Which they used to talk and text each other all night at the party, despite the fact they were all sitting right there next to each other. And text other people who weren't at the party. And Brayden was the only one who didn't have one. And how her life is in shambles without one. And could she have one, PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE, please please please, or am I going to continue my reign as the meanest mother in the world???

So. Although I could babble on for days (imagine that) about how I feel about this, I think I can sum up my opposition to this idea in three basic reasons:

1. She's ELEVEN, for goodness' sake. Not sixteen, not fourteen. It's not like she works, or drives, or goes on school trips, or away sports games, or over night camp, or is ever anyplace by herself that she might need one for security or safety purposes. She is either at school, or with me, or Blaine, or my mom, or my sister, or with someone we trust, at all times. She doesn't NEEEEEEEED a phone; she wants one. Big difference. Plus, she rarely talks to friends on the regular phone, why on earth does she need a cell phone?

2. We have told her (and Kellen and Kendrie, since they've both asked for their own phone as well) repeatedly that until they can help pay for it, the answer is no. When she replies she has enough in savings to buy the phone, I respond that *when* she gets a phone (because yes, of course I know the day is coming, I’m not a total doofus) she will also be responsible for a portion of the monthly cost. Since my kids have chosen the "we don't care if we get an allowance, we want to be lazy and not do any chores" option for this year's summer break, I know for a fact she can't afford to pay for any part of it. Even when they *are* getting a regular allowance, at this age, it's not enough to help pay any great part of cell phone service each month.

3. And this, I must admit, is the kicker. The real reason I don't want my daughter to have a phone, and why although I know it is an inevitability at some point in her future, I plan to push it off for as long as possible: I absolutely, positively, entirely, totally and completely, cannot STAND the sight of teenagers obsessed with sending and receiving text messages. I think it’s discourteous to do when you are in the company of other people (much like I think it’s also discourteous to talk on your cell phone in the company of other people) and I despise how preoccupied and fixated these kids seem to be with their phones.

Obviously, cost is not the issue as long as you have unlimited texting. My problem lies with how much TIME is spent doing it. At even only ten seconds apiece, sending six thousand texts in one month (which my friend’s daughter did a few months ago) is the equivalent of two hundred texts a day --- almost twenty hours a month of texting …. That’s five hours per week of time that could be spent reading, or on homework, or sports practice, or doing some kind of volunteer or charity work. Do I think every minute of every day should be spent constructively? No, of course not. Kids need down time, and to waste time, and I certainly feel texting falls into that category. But I find it weird, and a little silly, that kids are happy to spend so much time sending messages back and forth to one another. Just pick up the phone and CALL if you have something to say, for goodness sake! In fact, texting for one hour a day probably wouldn't even bother me if they sat down, did it for an hour, then were done. But it's the constant, non-stop, a little bit here and a little bit there insidiousness of it that makes me bonkers. And no, to answer your question, I do not send text messages, nor do I open them on the rare occasion I receive them. In fact, I had the texting option turned off my last phone and will probably do it to this phone as well. I DON’T have unlimited texting, and am charged ten cents apiece each time someone sends me one.

I’ve seen people text while driving (unsafe!) and while eating at restaurants (rude!) Last weekend, I saw them texting during a wedding reception, and this weekend, I saw them texting during the Aly & AJ concert I attended with Brayden. Which prompted her to point to the many, many teens and pre-teens around us, texting, and remind me again about how her life is incomplete and what a hag I am.

One friend told me the great thing about texting is that it’s so “non-invasive” because he can send a text without bothering or interrupting the person to whom he is sending, like he would with a phone call. I disagree. I think texting is terribly invasive --- if you’re sending hundreds, or even dozens of messages a day, how is your own time not invaded? I’ve seen very few people who don’t instantly open a text mail they’ve been sent, and who don’t immediately reply with a text of their own. How is that considered non-invasive??

I’m well aware that I’m probably just a cranky-pants who doesn’t understand “these kids today” … but I don’t. My friends with teens all laugh at me and tell me when my kids are older, and have their own phones, I will be sending and receiving text messages like crazy as well because that’s the only way I’ll be able to keep track of them. I hope not. I hope my kids will pick up the phone and call me if they have a question, or need to talk to me. The thought of being relegated as a parent to a brief SYS is a teensy bit insulting to me.

And there you have it. The reasons I don’t think my eleven –year old needs her own cell phone. At least not yet. It’s unnecessary; I’m cheap; and I see what happens when kids (and some adults!) get one. (Actually, this post turned out to be less about my daughter getting a cell phone, and more about my own personal distaste for text messaging. Hmmm, me, grumpy about something. Imagine that.)

Am I wrong? Crazy? Fighting the unavoidable? Do YOUR kids have cell phones, and if so, why? At what age? With what rules and restrictions? Giving her a phone with no texting, or limited texting??? Tract phones? Limited minutes? Free reign? Do they help pay for it?

I’d really like to know, because I have a feeling when school starts this fall, the begging will begin in earnest, and I need to be prepared to either fight or succumb.

Breaking My Heart

No matter how great a job you think you are doing as a parent, there comes a moment every now and then that just breaks your heart … a moment when your failings as a parent are not only highlighted, and brought to your attention, but are thrown back at you and smack you right in the face. Maybe even chipping a tooth or two. I had one of those moments this morning.

Brayden, who I love more than the drops of water in the ocean and the grains of sand on the beach ….. drives me absolutely batshit crazy sometimes. She and I are SO much alike that it’s no wonder we know all the buttons to push to drive one another right over the edge.

She has this really annoying (in my opinion) habit of suddenly developing whatever illness or ailment that anyone else in the family might have. A few weeks ago Kellen was having trouble getting a loose tooth out and having some pain … suddenly Brayden had a sore tooth as well. If Kendrie needs tylenol for any reason, suddenly Brayden has a headache and needs tylenol as well. If anyone falls down and scrapes a knee, she'll suddenly remember an old (healing quite nicely, thank you) injury that absolutely MUST have a bandaid right now. Quite frankly, it makes me nuts.

This morning, Blaine was saying that his throat is sore (from allergies, we think) and wouldn’t you know it, not two seconds later Brayden was talking with a raspy chain-smoker voice and holding her hand dramatically over her throat and complaining about how much it hurt.

(eye rolling)

She was mad at me this morning because what she wanted to wear wasn’t clean. Then, she wouldn’t get her jacket when it was time to go. Then, as we were walking to school, her jacket was too hot. And her backpack was too heavy. She started dragging her feet and when I told her to stop (because is there any sound in the world more annoying than kids shuffling their shoes along the pavement?) she told me it wasn’t her fault that her new shoes were too big. I reminded her that we need to start her book report tonight and she informed me that it is my fault she hasn’t finished the book because I haven’t read it with her. Then when I reminded her to come to the car quickly after school today because we have piano lessons, she told me it wasn’t her fault that sometimes the teacher keeps her late. And she asked me to go buy her new colored pencils and when I told her she could make do for the last three weeks of the school year with the pencils she has, she told me it wasn’t her fault they were getting worn out.

Every comment I made, she had a rebuke. Every question I asked, she had a snotty retort. Every request that she made was made with arrogance and the assumption that I was clearly put on this earth to do her bidding, but heaven forbid I ask her to take responsibility for anything. Ever.

About this time, I reached my limit and I said in a loud, exasperated voice, making the appropriate arm and hand gestures to indicate my full level of annoyance “Yes, Brayden, I know, NOTHING is ever your fault!” Which of course made her mad, so that when we arrived at school she stomped off to her classroom without even telling me goodbye.

Gosh, I love the pre-teen years.

Ok, now, some background information:

Twice a year (I think) the kids’ new school has a special assembly program where students are “Knighted”. Each elementary teacher can select two (I think) students from her class to receive this honor. Friday morning during assembly, a real-live knight from some real-live knight organization or association or whatever comes to the school. He talks about honor and respect and personal responsibility, and what it takes to earn “knight-dom” and the honor that comes with it. Then, he calls the selected students up in front of the entire school to “knight” them ceremoniously. The kids get a medal and a certificate and there are dozens and dozens of parents there with cameras and video recorders. And the kids who have been knighted in years past are encouraged to bring their medals, also.

It’s actually a pretty big deal at this school, and most of the teachers don’t tell the students ahead of time who has been chosen, so the suspense and excitement of that morning reaches a really high peak during the ceremony, with lots of clapping and cheering. I saw the last knight ceremony and the guy was fabulous – completely playing up the honor and importance of it, and making the kids who receive it feel fantastic.

So, back to this morning. I had received an e-mail from Kellen’s teacher last week that he was selected to be knighted on Friday. I was a little surprised, considering he’s only been at this school four months, but pleased nonetheless. He has no idea that it’s coming (so please, if you read this, don’t let it slip to him) but I think he’ll be pretty excited about it.

This morning, when I walked Kendrie to her room, her teacher pulled me to the side and whispered the good news that Kendrie is also being knighted this Friday.

And as thrilled as I am for Kellen and Kendrie, a not-so-little part of my heart hurts for Brayden.

She doesn’t deserve to be knighted; I’m under no delusions that she’s being ripped off or anything. Although she LOVES her new school, she struggles more with grades and attitude than the other two. She talks a lot in class, she’s easily frustrated, she changes friends (I hate you! I love you! You’re my BFF! Don’t ever talk to me again!) like any normal eleven year old girl. And, there was that pesky suspension that I’m still not telling the internet about. So I understand why she’s not being chosen for the same honor as the other two.

But all I could think of were the hurtful, frustrated words I said to her this morning, and how on Friday morning both her siblings will receive an award that she will never receive. Once you go to middle school, there are no more knightings. So the younger two are receiving this honor in record time, and she’ll never receive it at all.

And it struck me how my job as a parent is to bolster their self-esteem, and remind them of the very unique, individual gifts that make each of them special. To help them find constructive ways to work through their problems; to help them grow with respect and admiration and self-confidence, and to let them know how very much we love them no matter the awards they do, or do NOT, receive. And how this morning all I did was take my frustration out on an eleven year old girl ….

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t think it’s my job to shelter them from all of life’s disappointments. Sometimes they need to learn through the consequence of their actions, blah blah. But still, I *know* how left out she’s going to feel on Friday morning and instead of using this morning as a caring, loving, nurturing opportunity, to let her know how much I love her even when she’s having a bad morning, I snapped and was snarky and rolled my eyes at her.

God, I suck.

Not that. But probably this.

I took a random survey today, sampling a highly scientific demographic of the general population (in other words, I asked my sister) if my hiding the remote control to the fart machine last night at Kellen’s birthday party makes me the worst parent on the planet. Considering she is the one who HANDED me the remote control and told me to hide it, it should come as no surprise that she said no, it did not actually make me the worst parent on the planet.

But you know what does?

The fact that my son invited a friend over for a playdate today, and in the course of their playing, his friend slipped while climbing a fence and wound up with a pretty impressive cut down the side of his torso. I’d say a good six inches long, at least.

And like it’s not bad enough that we borrow a kid and then return them as damaged goods, but can you believe it wasn’t until he was standing in my bathroom, bleeding and wincing, that I realized we had no gauze? No adhesive pads? And that the only tube of Neosporin in the entire house expired in April of 2006?

Thankfully, this boy was a pretty tough egg and didn’t complain. And was willing to make do with hydrogen peroxide, a q-tip, and about eleven mini-bandaids, lined up and down his rib cage.

The poor boy is going to be scarred for life. Figuratively, AND literally. All thanks to me and my sub-par first-aid skills.

When Parenting magazine calls with my Mother of the Year award, I’ll remember all the little people in my acceptance speech, I promise.

Too Much Excitement for Most of You

Because I am Mother of the Year, and so very, very involved, and because I want my children to always remember what a ball of laughs I was while they were growing up, and how much fun and joy we had together, I went upstairs with them after dinner last night and we played Dance Dance Revolution together on the Wii for an hour and a half.

Well, ok, technically I didn’t really *battle* them or anything, but I sat up there with them and cheered them on and encouraged them.

Well, ok, technically it wasn’t so much *cheering* as it was just watching and murmuring positive comments.

And if I’m being totally honest I have to confess that yes, about half an hour into it I laid down on the sofa and fell asleep.

So that when I woke up an hour later, Kellen was the only one left, determined to conquer the next level on “You Spin Me Right Round Baby” and Brayden and Kendrie had given up asking me to watch them and gone back downstairs to be with Blaine.

Oh, I don’t know. Do you think maybe it’s time to have my thyroid level checked, and see if perhaps we could bump up my dosage of Synthroid, so I quit falling asleep on the sofa after dinner like an 80-yr old grandpa?

And also, why I’m having a hard time thinking of things to blog about since I am DULL. AS. SHIT.

Multiple Choice

So, today after school my kids were playing soccer in the house, despite my repeated (oh, about twenty-eleven billion times) requests to knock it off already. Sure enough, the ball ricocheted off my living room lamp and hit Kendrie in the head, causing tears, at which point I lost it and sent them all to their bedrooms for a time-out. A few minutes later, I walked past their bedroom doors to discover Brayden on the floor listening to music, and Kellen and Kendrie on the floor playing with toys of their own. At which point, I really lost it, about how don’t they understand the CONCEPT of a time-out, and how it is supposed to be a PUNISHMENT and how they are NOT allowed off the bed and so now they can plan on staying there an additional fifteen minutes.

At which point, the following statements were hurled back at me. Multiple choice for you, the reader, as to which one was the least mature and most hurtful:

a) You’re a terrible Mother!

b) You’re mean!

c) Daddy is the more nicer parent!

d) You never let us do anything!

e) I hate you!

f) I wish Daddy would divorce you!

And while I normally don’t put a lot of credence on the things my children say in anger, I’ve got to admit that (f) took me by surprise and stung just a bit.

So, being the calm, rational, mature parent that I am, I responded in a composed, adult, sane manner by dumping their basket of freshly washed laundry in the middle of the hall floor and snapping back at them:

“Fine …. FINE! You don’t like the way I parent??? Then I’ll quit doing it, starting with your laundry! There it is … I suggest you fold it yourselves before the dog lies down on it!” and stalking away, leaving a pile of clean clothes on the floor behind me.

So …… that’s another six months of therapy for my kids. Remind me again, who, exactly, is the grown-up in this house???

SHINING, HAPPY MOMENTS FROM THE MOTHERING HALL OF FAME

AKA: PROOF POSITIVE THAT I SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED OR TRUSTED TO RAISE GOLDFISH, LET ALONE HUMAN PETS

Kendrie -- Day 147 OT
Blaine -- Hanging tough in Seattle

Growing up, there was never any doubt that I had zero desire to go into teaching, tutoring, mentoring, education, instruction, coaching, training, or any kind of childcare or home daycare. Why? Because Lord knows I don’t have the patience. Yet, I thought it would be ok for me to have children of my own???? What the **heck** was I thinking???

Specific examples of why my children will need therapy when they are older. Or maybe sooner than I think:

#1. Kendrie was playing in the backyard the other day in her favorite tennis shoes and stepped in dog poop. She ran into the house, still wearing said shoes, tracking said poop on our new living room rug, to tell me about it. Exasperated, I told her to take OFF the shoes and leave them on the back patio. The poop would harden somewhat overnight and in the morning I would clean off the bottom of her shoe. Seemed like a foolproof plan at the time. Unfortunately, it rained a little that night. The next morning, the poop was a runny mess on the bottom of a soggy shoe. A shoe that Kendrie was emphatic she wanted to wear to school. While I did go ahead and clean the shoe, very unhappily, I might add, it wasn’t with the cheeriest of dispositions. No one-sided conversation has ever taken place at a kitchen sink with as many variations of the word SHIT inserted as I put forth that day. Perhaps I can still be a role model for my children. Just not before 8am and not if dog poop is involved.

#2. Around here, we have a system where every day is assigned to a kid. Families with only two children, I suppose, could do an even-odd day system, but since we have three kids, we just go in order. For example, if Monday is Brayden’s day, then Tuesday is Kellen’s, Wednesday is Kendrie’s, and Brayden starts over again on Thursday. It just goes continuously and I mark the calendar every month. Whoever's day it is, that person gets to choose which tv channel they watch, take their bath first at night, pick where they want to sit in a restaurant if we go out to eat, select which color bowl or plate they want with their dinner (yes, my kids argue over stuff as inane as that) …. Etc. You get the picture. We’ve been doing it for about two years now and it actually works pretty well at eliminating some of the arguments whining discussion over “She got to choose last time” or “It’s my turn to pick”.

Earlier this week, I took the kids with me to Kroger. At our local Kroger, the empty carts are kept outside the store (you might remember my rant a while back about all the carts being out in the rain one night and me taking some of Kendrie’s steroid frustration out on the poor innocent bagger whose bad luck it was to be standing there as I came inside with my wet cart and wiped it off with hand towels from the restroom) and as we walked up, the following conversation took place:

Kristie, “Whose day is it?”

Brayden, “Mine”

Kristie, “OK, would you go over there and get us an empty cart?”

Kendrie, “No fair!”

Kristie, “It is fair, it’s her day. You know how it works”

Kendrie, “How come I never get to push the cart? How come we never go to the store when it’s MY day?”

Kristie (feeling exasperated), “Oh, for Pete’s sake. I’m not going to let her push the cart in the store, I just want her to walk over there and get one.”

Kendrie (stomping feet, stopping at the door, and crossing arms against her chest) “I’m not going inside if she gets the cart!!!”

Kristie, “Get inside the store now, I’m not having this discussion with you.”

Kendrie, “It’s not fair, it’s not fair! Brayden always gets to do things on her day and I never do!”

Kristie, “I can’t help that today is her day. That’s just the way it worked out.”

Kendrie (voice at an intolerable whining level now, in the middle of the produce section) “You always choose fun things on Brayden’s day, why does she always get to do stuff?”

At this point, I had had it. Annoyed, frustrated, and losing what small bit of patience I indeed posses, I threw back over my shoulder as I walked off:

“Because I love her more.”

Yes. That’s right. I said it to one of my children, IN PUBLIC. I’m surprised the Gods of Fair Parenting didn’t smite me down right there next to the bananas.

As soon as I said it, the guilt began. Even though I was being sarcastic, it was wrong to say, as evidenced by the 6-yr old tears that had already started. Thus began an immediate rectifying conversation about what sarcasm entails, and did she REALLY think that I love one kid better? Honestly? Truly???? I knelt down right there in produce and made sure she understood. Although *I* know that **she** knows that I didn’t mean it, I did feel terribly guilty for even saying it sardonically. Really, shouldn’t parents …. Especially ADULT parents, know better?

#3. Blaine, I must confess, is a much better housekeeper than I am. And the kitchen is most certainly his territory. I cook almost every night, and he cleans. It’s a long-standing arrangement we’ve had, that has worked well for us since we were first married. Now that he’s gone, I admit that it’s the one chore I hate doing the most. I can take out the garbage, get my van worked on, water the yard, sweep, vacuum, whatever I need to do, but I despise cleaning up the kitchen each evening.

Last night, after dinner, I had the kids take showers, and I was helping with homework and reading. The dishes from dinner were still on the counter when a rainstorm came through and “POP”, our cable box was hit by lightening. My normal routine is after I put the kids to bed, I get online for about an hour, then clean up the kitchen and go to bed myself. Since we had no computer last night, or tv, I thought to myself, you know what? I'm tired, and I’m going to bed, too. The kitchen mess will still be there in the morning.

And boy, was it. It looked even worse in the glaring light of morning. Dishes that hadn’t even been rinsed, let alone put in the dishwasher. Glasses still half full of milk, sitting on the counter, and a half of a homemade chicken pot pie that I forgot to put in the fridge. Ga-ross! I was standing there, berating myself for being so lazy the night before (but berating myself in a well-rested fashion because I got eight full hours of sleep.) Kendrie walked in the kitchen, took a good look around, and announced to me, “Ewww. It looks like we live in a troll’s house.”

Ok, that really didn’t help things any.

#3. Fast forward to thirty minutes later. The kids, dressed and ready for school, had gone out in the backyard to get the dog some fresh water. Brayden came back inside, and thanks to that little rainstorm last night, tracked mud all over (you guessed it) our new living room rug …. Which at this point, is seriously not looking so new anymore.

I glanced around, trying to locate all the mud damage so I could clean it up, and saw toys on the floor, and book bags strewn about, and shoes and dirty laundry and now here comes the dog with more mud on his paws ………. AND …… I ….. JUST …… SNAPPED.

I’m not really sure what came over me. I made all the kids sit down at the kitchen table, and then I just went off. About how there are five people living in this house, but only two of us ever do anything around here, and one of those people is gone and so now I’m doing everything and I’m sick of it. SICK OF IT DO YOU HEAR ME????? And you know what the little rugrats had the audacity to do? Giggle. I really don’t think they were laughing *at* me, but by then had gotten the giggles and just couldn’t stop. And the more they tried to hide it, the angrier I got.

So then I launched into that speech that all parents deliver at some point in time: “What if I just decided to go on strike? What if I just quit doing laundry, or helping you with schoolwork, or buying you stuff, or shopping for food, or cooking food? What would you do then, Mr. and Ms. Smarty Pants?”

And Kellen looked me dead center in the eye and replied, “I would go to my school counselor and tell her you’re not taking care of us.”

OH. SO not the right thing to say. (Although, actually, I was sort of proud of him for coming to the conclusion that he would go to another adult with the problem. Proud of him in a twisted, demented, great-then-I’d-have-to-hide-from-Children’s-Services sort of way.)

But anyway, back to his comment. It was like I stepped outside of myself and could look over and see my own head spinning around. I snapped, “Well, hey, if you want to go live somewhere else, where people would take better care of you, you just let me know because we could sure arrange it!”

Yet another mature and reasonable comment from the adult in the house.

Anyway, much like the “never go to bed angry” rule, I also believe in never letting my children go to school with any of us angry, so we worked it out before we left the house. I mean, it’s not like we came up with any peaceable solution, whereby the children offered to take over all the household chores from now until eternity, but they did at least clean up their rooms before we left. And I didn’t even have to threaten to withhold dinner tonight. Which consisted of Pizza Hut, served on paper plates, because I’ll be damned if I’m going to wake up to another mess like I did this morning.

In the meantime, I’m off to clean the rug. Again.

OVERCONFIDENT

Day 50 OT

***DISCLAIMER***The following journal entry contains graphic language and imagery. It is most likely not suitable for minors, anyone who is squeamish, or anyone with a penis who has never given birth. Please read at your own risk.

I am a terrible parent. Obviously, I got cocky after the chocolate sauce episode, and seeing that shiny white tooth come out of Kendrie’s mouth. Cocky and overconfident. All that came crashing down. Twice -- not once, but twice -- in the past 24 hours I have been reminded that Blaine is actually a much better parent than me. I’m not sure why, but he is. In fact, I should hope he doesn’t file for divorce anytime soon because not only would he be granted sole custody of our children, I wouldn’t even get unsupervised visitation.

First, it was the basketball episode last night. Kellen’s team, undefeated (or “undefeatable”, as he liked to say) for the season, lost their first game. It was one of those extremely painful losses, where your team is only behind by one point with ten seconds left and you actually have a chance to sink a shot and win, and then someone on the other team steals the ball and makes a long, lucky shot and then you’re behind by three points with eight seconds to go and you know its hopeless. Painful like that. And even though they are only seven years old, and it was by no means the Final Four Championship Game, they took it pretty hard. Kellen wasn't the only team member with a quivering lip at the end.

It’s about a twenty minute drive home from the gym and Kellen was very upset. I ran the gamut of unsolicited parenting advice: “Son, losing is a part of life … at some point in time you’re going to lose homework, a job, even a girlfriend (I stole that from his coach’s talk) and there’s no reason to be upset. As long as you did your best and had fun, that’s all that matters.”

That didn’t work, so I tried a new tactic: “Kellen, it’s ok to feel sad and disappointed because you didn’t win, but it’s not OK to be a quitter” (This was after he informed me he hated basketball and never wanted to play another game.) New, cheerleader attempt: “Kellen, you’ll get ‘em next time!” but nothing was working. We got home, he went straight to his bed, pulled the covers over his head and cried for twenty minutes.

So Blaine went in the room and shut the door. Ten minutes later, Kellen came out, if not SMILING, at least markedly less depressed. I asked Blaine, “What did you say to him?” and Blaine replied, “I just told him losing was a part of life, and it happens to everyone and it’s ok to feel sad and the next game will be better.”

Um, ok. And *what* was it I had been saying the entire drive home? But obviously it worked better coming from Blaine. Episode #1, proving he is a better parent than me. I’m still not sure how or why, but chalk one up for Blaine.

Then, this morning at breakfast, we somehow got on the subject of the kids when they were babies, and newly born. My kids, like many others (I can only assume) love hearing details about their births and subsequent first year of life ….. “Who was the fattest when they were born? Who had the most hair? Which kid was it that pooped on you the first time you gave her a bath?” Those sorts of things. (PS. Kellen, Kellen, and Brayden, in that order.)

Somehow, this morning’s conversation started with Kellen commenting that all boys come out of the stomach (he was a c-section baby) and all girls come out of the pee-pees. Let me just reiterate the conversation for you, so you can form your own opinions:

Kellen: “Boy babies come out of the stomachs and girl babies come out of the pee-pees.”

Kendrie: “That’s not true. Some boy babies come out of the baginas.”

Kellen: “Well, I’m glad *I* didn’t come out of a vagina!!!”

(At this point, the giggling has started in earnest. I suppose when you’re in elementary school, “Vagina” is the funniest word on the planet.)

Kendrie: “Well, I came out of a bagina and it was fun!”

Kellen: “Fun??"

Kendrie: “Yeah, it was fun!”

Brayden: “Oh, like you really remember?”

Kendrie: “Yeah! It was like a roller coaster ride!”

(even the adults are giggling at this point)

Kendrie: “Yup, it’s a good thing I had my seat belt on!” and she proceeded to throw her arms up in the air like she was going down a big hill. “Wheeeeeeeeee!!!”

All five of us are laughing now at how silly she is being, and I see what I think is the perfect opportunity to redeem my lackluster parenting episode of last night by furthering the frivolity at the breakfast table. I say to Blaine, “Hey, hand me the salad tongs” and then I hold them up and wave them around, saying, “Yep, but at the last minute you wouldn’t get OFF the roller coaster, so the doctor took a pair of these and pulled you out this way!” (me, smiling, thinking all the kids would think that was sooooooo funny)

Instead, total silence.

Kendrie, with a horrified look on her face: “That’s not true. That didn’t happen.”

Kristie, still laughing and thinking we were all having big-fun: “Yes, it is. Your head got stuck so they grabbed hold of it with a big pair of tongs and pulled you out that way.”

At which point Kendrie renders an earth-shattering scream, runs from the table, and throws herself on her bed, crying hysterically.

And once again, I’m left sitting there, thinking, “What the hell did I do wrong? I thought we were having fun.”

Blaine looks over at me: “Smooth. Real smooth”

So he goes into her bedroom, talks to her for five minutes, and then she comes back out, giggling once again, and points to Kellen, “Yeah, but Dad says when you born, you were blue!” which she finds hysterical. (Never mind that it’s not even true.)

My point is, everything I say is wrong and everything Blaine says is right. Why is this so? I mean, *I* was the one with a baby’s head stuck in my bagina, why is she upset with me for pointing it out???

Obviously I need to re-take Parenting 101 and brush up on the chapter on age-appropriate information. Otherwise none of them are going to want to talk to me about ANYTHING! Of course, with the birds and the bees conversation coming up in a few years, maybe that’s not a bad thing. The way things are going, Blaine will be better at dispensing *those* golden nuggets of wisdom, anyway. Knowing me, I’ll just brandish salad tongs and traumatize them further.