The game of tug of war is on. It is a common game that occurs between my children. It is either played between either my son and my youngest daughter, my youngest daughter and my oldest daughter, or all three. I start to hear "MINE! MINE! MINE!" It brings me to think of the seagulls from Finding Nemo.
I am sitting on the couch attempting to complete course work for a few of my classes...sort of hoping my lovely and highly obediant(one can only wish) children will work things out among themselves. They don't seem to be able to. I finally take a moment of my time to yell to them and plead with them to please share. Although it seems like I am more so yelling at the walls rather than people for my lovely children do not seem to hear me(or try to avoid me) and go on fighting over the toy that they claim is "theirs."
I decide to migrate from the couch to whichever room the loud, obnoxious screaming is coming from to find out what is going on. When I enter, my four year old has a hold of my two year olds Tonka truck. He is trying to rip it out of her hands and she refuses to let go by applying her death grip to the bed of the truck. Her face says it all, "there is no way." My two year old continues screaming, "MINE!!!" I wait just a moment. I want to see if my mere presence will have the children break it up. Not for a minute. I am forced to intervene. Forcefully, I begin to pry the Tonka truck out of both of their hands. It is not as easy as one might think. If you have children or have ever experienced watching a younger child, then you completely understand my frustration. My four year old hesitates for a moment to let go. My two year old clings for life to his beloved truck. I have had enough. Trying to take a favorite toy away from a toddler or a child of any age, I would imagine is like trying to pry some item out of a dead mans stiff fingers. There is absolutely no letting go. I finally manage to rip the truck away from my two year old and run it to the secret hiding spot where I place all toys that I have to confiscate from the children. Just as a teachers desk when an item is taken from a student. Dylan, my two year old looks all around. The truck is hidden. He keeps at his attempted hawk vision for about five more minutes before he forgets about it and moves on.
Although the truck was and is my sons. Because of the fight that occured between daughter and son...the truck became MINE! Mom wins yet again!
Monday, February 28, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Breathe in....breathe out....and repeat
Parenting can seem overwhelming sometimes. Ok, a lot of the time. The day in the life of a parent never ends. The job is 24/7 without pay. And there are no health benefits provided which would be wonderful in helping to ease the irking insanity that sometimes feels like it is sitting right beside you. When things get to the point where my inside voice is quite literally screaming at the top of her lungs, I like to find my peaceful place. My quiet spot. I feel like my two year old for a moment, running to my room in a fleet of madness. But where is my cape to fly off like Superwoman?
Once in my room, the door shuts and locks, and I escape. Although it is only ten minutes or so that I am in my room...if I am so lucky...I take those minutes and think of them as my get-a-way, my cruise out to sea. I close my eyes, breathe, and envision my heaven on earth, which would either be the mountains or the ocean. Today it is the ocean. I smile for a brief moment as I conjure up a picture of the beach. I am barefoot and running from the waves. Gathering up sand dollars and sea shells. Painting a canvas with my acrylics. Watching the sun....
Oh but wait. I am brought back to reality when I hear a knock at my bedroom door. "Mom! Mom! Jozlynne and Dylan wont stop fighting! I am also thirsty! Mom? Mom!" It is my oldest daughter, Rachael. Only about four minutes have passed. If only I could have made it to ten. Breathe in....breathe out....back to the neverending, unpaid, underrespected, but highly rewarding job of parenting/
Once in my room, the door shuts and locks, and I escape. Although it is only ten minutes or so that I am in my room...if I am so lucky...I take those minutes and think of them as my get-a-way, my cruise out to sea. I close my eyes, breathe, and envision my heaven on earth, which would either be the mountains or the ocean. Today it is the ocean. I smile for a brief moment as I conjure up a picture of the beach. I am barefoot and running from the waves. Gathering up sand dollars and sea shells. Painting a canvas with my acrylics. Watching the sun....
Oh but wait. I am brought back to reality when I hear a knock at my bedroom door. "Mom! Mom! Jozlynne and Dylan wont stop fighting! I am also thirsty! Mom? Mom!" It is my oldest daughter, Rachael. Only about four minutes have passed. If only I could have made it to ten. Breathe in....breathe out....back to the neverending, unpaid, underrespected, but highly rewarding job of parenting/
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Keeping Hold of my Mini Picassos
My children love art. They love to create by running wild and free with their imaginations. The paint flies, the colors mix, and a heavenly(but messy) canvas is created. Surprisingly I am asked a lot how I get my children to like art. Um. I really do not know how to answer this besides giving them crayons, play doh, kid scissors, glue, construction paper, watercolors, and any other art supply I can possibly think of on an almost daily basis. I make these supplies accessible for my children.
My belief is that each person is born with a natural talent and eye for art. But it is society that corrects the baby that turns toddler that turns child that turns preteen that turns teen that eventually turns adult. And it is the societys view that says the individuals form of art is wrong. I thought that people were all their own being, their own individual. I thought we were not like cattle and that we all had minds of our own.
This societal view takes me back to when I took a college art class about ten years ago. I have never took one since. The teacher always picked and picked and picked at how I chose to create art. At the end of the quarter, I earned a D. It took me a while to believe in myself again after that. It took me a while to see my art as beautiful and hold my head up high not caring what other people thought.
This same idea goes for children. Any age of a child needs that reassurance somewhere that their masterpiece is beyond amazing. They need to be told that their color use is unlike anything that has ever been seen. My children do not enjoy art simply because they do it every day. They enjoy art because I enjoy their art with them. That is how I get my children to enjoy using that part of their brain in creating what only they can see.
To end, I will use a bit of humor that relates to the joys found in creating art with your child. Today we made mini snowmen. I laughed as my son kept stealing parts of my daughters snowmen that were already glued together. My son would tear away the snowmens parts from my two daughters papers and then quickly paste those pieces on his own snowman. He thought it was wonderful to be able to sneak away with other peoples art. My daughters did not think it was as wonderful as Dylan did. I, of course, chuckled at what was taking place. I finally had to relocate my children to different parts of the table just as a teacher might separate best friends in a class to keep from talking. My son vented with frustration for a moment but as soon as he held the glue in his hand again, he was calm and right back to continuing his snowman.
It was in today's art that if I was off doing something else, I would have missed out on one of lifes tiny memories. A smile never would have been brought to my face and the polaroids of this moment wouldnt have been saved. So I say to you, to all parents out there. Do not mind the mess, do not mind the cleanup, enjoy the art.
My belief is that each person is born with a natural talent and eye for art. But it is society that corrects the baby that turns toddler that turns child that turns preteen that turns teen that eventually turns adult. And it is the societys view that says the individuals form of art is wrong. I thought that people were all their own being, their own individual. I thought we were not like cattle and that we all had minds of our own.
This societal view takes me back to when I took a college art class about ten years ago. I have never took one since. The teacher always picked and picked and picked at how I chose to create art. At the end of the quarter, I earned a D. It took me a while to believe in myself again after that. It took me a while to see my art as beautiful and hold my head up high not caring what other people thought.
This same idea goes for children. Any age of a child needs that reassurance somewhere that their masterpiece is beyond amazing. They need to be told that their color use is unlike anything that has ever been seen. My children do not enjoy art simply because they do it every day. They enjoy art because I enjoy their art with them. That is how I get my children to enjoy using that part of their brain in creating what only they can see.
To end, I will use a bit of humor that relates to the joys found in creating art with your child. Today we made mini snowmen. I laughed as my son kept stealing parts of my daughters snowmen that were already glued together. My son would tear away the snowmens parts from my two daughters papers and then quickly paste those pieces on his own snowman. He thought it was wonderful to be able to sneak away with other peoples art. My daughters did not think it was as wonderful as Dylan did. I, of course, chuckled at what was taking place. I finally had to relocate my children to different parts of the table just as a teacher might separate best friends in a class to keep from talking. My son vented with frustration for a moment but as soon as he held the glue in his hand again, he was calm and right back to continuing his snowman.
It was in today's art that if I was off doing something else, I would have missed out on one of lifes tiny memories. A smile never would have been brought to my face and the polaroids of this moment wouldnt have been saved. So I say to you, to all parents out there. Do not mind the mess, do not mind the cleanup, enjoy the art.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Simply "forget."
Kids love to "forget." They can be told not to do something one thousand times, yet kids insist on continuing to do what they were told not to. Even though a child can be looking right at you while you are speaking to them about what not to do, they will end up repeating their wrong behavior. And when your back is not even turned and you can plainly see them, they go back to doing what you just reminded them not to. Ah yes. Children are not dumb. They are highly intelligent. Yet they push those buttons of any one watching them, more so the parents, to see what they can get away with and if the guardian will react.
For instance, my oldest daughter, Rachael, has been reminded time and time again to not sit on the upper part of the couch. Yet she still insists that anywhere on the couch except for the couch cushions is her seat. Her lazy boy. Even with her dad and I constantly lecturing her on what could happen if she fell, how its damaging to our sofas, and how its setting a bad example for her younger siblings, she continues to sit everywhere on the couch but. And discipline seems to not work wonders of any kind. Even though she kicks and screams on her way to the corner, and it looks as though it is going to be a terrible, horrible, tormenting punishment for her, she still quite simply "forgets" why she was sent there and goes right back to sitting on the upper part of the couch. When asked why she hasnt listened, her answer is always the same, "I dont know."
You would think that this action would stop after being lectured more times than one has fingers and toes. Of course not.
Another example. Every morning when I wake my oldest daughter up for school, routine should be to get up, get dressed, and come out for breakfast. Does she do that? Nope. Almost every morning, she is caught in her room playing with her toys while still sitting in her pajamas. I have to tell her to get dressed. No, no, no...REMIND her to get dressed. Then I ask her why she hasn't. Her answer hasnt changed...."I don't know." Ugh! She knows. There is just that switch in a childs head that I guess has not turned on yet. Or she is that wise that she knows what she is supposed to do yet she makes it that much more stressful on me in the mornings or when she is doing something she knows better on. It is almost purposeful.
Children do know. They do remember what they are to do and what they are not to do. Yet it is a game. It is a test. Seeing what they can get away with. It is almost like kids do it on purpose so that eventually we just give up as parents. Like I said, children are highly intelligent. Do not turn your back on the attempted "masters" of plan.
For instance, my oldest daughter, Rachael, has been reminded time and time again to not sit on the upper part of the couch. Yet she still insists that anywhere on the couch except for the couch cushions is her seat. Her lazy boy. Even with her dad and I constantly lecturing her on what could happen if she fell, how its damaging to our sofas, and how its setting a bad example for her younger siblings, she continues to sit everywhere on the couch but. And discipline seems to not work wonders of any kind. Even though she kicks and screams on her way to the corner, and it looks as though it is going to be a terrible, horrible, tormenting punishment for her, she still quite simply "forgets" why she was sent there and goes right back to sitting on the upper part of the couch. When asked why she hasnt listened, her answer is always the same, "I dont know."
You would think that this action would stop after being lectured more times than one has fingers and toes. Of course not.
Another example. Every morning when I wake my oldest daughter up for school, routine should be to get up, get dressed, and come out for breakfast. Does she do that? Nope. Almost every morning, she is caught in her room playing with her toys while still sitting in her pajamas. I have to tell her to get dressed. No, no, no...REMIND her to get dressed. Then I ask her why she hasn't. Her answer hasnt changed...."I don't know." Ugh! She knows. There is just that switch in a childs head that I guess has not turned on yet. Or she is that wise that she knows what she is supposed to do yet she makes it that much more stressful on me in the mornings or when she is doing something she knows better on. It is almost purposeful.
Children do know. They do remember what they are to do and what they are not to do. Yet it is a game. It is a test. Seeing what they can get away with. It is almost like kids do it on purpose so that eventually we just give up as parents. Like I said, children are highly intelligent. Do not turn your back on the attempted "masters" of plan.
Monday, February 7, 2011
A Few Examples of My Many Jobs
1. Cook
2. Baker
3. Shrink/Councelor
4. Taxi Cab Driver
5. Doctor
6. Teacher
7. Daycare Supervisor
8. Accountant
9. Personal Shopper
10. Fitness Trainer
11. Tour Guide
12. The Bank(kids think so)
13. Librarian(story teller)
14. Art Instructor
15. Band/Choir Instructor
16. Etiquette Consultant
17. Sports Coach
18. Personal Teddy Bear(comforter)
19. Gardener(kids flowers and different seeds)
20. Photographer
21. Supervisor(ensuring chores are done)
22. Full Time Student(Business Major)
23. Traveler
24. Pastor
25. Stylist
26. Speech Therapist
27. Comedian
28. Custodian
29. Housekeeper
30. Most importantly I am a Mother!
2. Baker
3. Shrink/Councelor
4. Taxi Cab Driver
5. Doctor
6. Teacher
7. Daycare Supervisor
8. Accountant
9. Personal Shopper
10. Fitness Trainer
11. Tour Guide
12. The Bank(kids think so)
13. Librarian(story teller)
14. Art Instructor
15. Band/Choir Instructor
16. Etiquette Consultant
17. Sports Coach
18. Personal Teddy Bear(comforter)
19. Gardener(kids flowers and different seeds)
20. Photographer
21. Supervisor(ensuring chores are done)
22. Full Time Student(Business Major)
23. Traveler
24. Pastor
25. Stylist
26. Speech Therapist
27. Comedian
28. Custodian
29. Housekeeper
30. Most importantly I am a Mother!
Saturday, February 5, 2011
The Changing of Life (originally posted 10/16/2008)
So here I sit waiting. Waiting for the new life to arrive that God has given me. One of the greatest gifts of all.
Yes, in all reality, I was wanting to wait a few more years before carrying another child, my third and last child. But I do believe that everything happens for a reason. Nothing life throws our way is a mistake.
I wonder to myself daily what this new being looks like who will soon introduce himself or herself to the world. I already wonder to myself what he or she will accomplish in life, and the greatnesses they will bring. Jozlynne and Rachael are already two complete opposites. My daughters are night and day in all aspects. With that being said, then this little one who will make one hell of an entrance in just a few days...the attitude, the personality, everything rolled into one is going to be incredible to see the differences out of all three children.
In a way, I am sad. Sad that this chapter in my life is about to come to an end. I have always wanted three children, I just never thought the days would come so soon. The children that we bare in life, our windows into our own world. We are their shadows, or are they ours? We do teach our children more than anyone can imagine, but in return they teach us.
Life will soon change for me again, life will change for Joe. And the most important for all, life will definately be changing for my daughters. Am I prepared? I dont believe that one can ever be prepared enough for the curve balls that life and God send our way.
Life will soon change for me once again, and continue changing throughout my lifetime
Yes, in all reality, I was wanting to wait a few more years before carrying another child, my third and last child. But I do believe that everything happens for a reason. Nothing life throws our way is a mistake.
I wonder to myself daily what this new being looks like who will soon introduce himself or herself to the world. I already wonder to myself what he or she will accomplish in life, and the greatnesses they will bring. Jozlynne and Rachael are already two complete opposites. My daughters are night and day in all aspects. With that being said, then this little one who will make one hell of an entrance in just a few days...the attitude, the personality, everything rolled into one is going to be incredible to see the differences out of all three children.
In a way, I am sad. Sad that this chapter in my life is about to come to an end. I have always wanted three children, I just never thought the days would come so soon. The children that we bare in life, our windows into our own world. We are their shadows, or are they ours? We do teach our children more than anyone can imagine, but in return they teach us.
Life will soon change for me again, life will change for Joe. And the most important for all, life will definately be changing for my daughters. Am I prepared? I dont believe that one can ever be prepared enough for the curve balls that life and God send our way.
Life will soon change for me once again, and continue changing throughout my lifetime
Hard Reality on Death. Giving Talk to 3 Year Old(originally published 09/10/2007)
Life is hard. My oldest daughter, Rachael found this out last night. Not to go into it too much detail, but I had to run to the bathroom. While in there, I heard the back slider door open and then close. It was late, so I sat there calling for Rachael, and asking her to come back inside. I was maybe in the bathroom for two to three minutes at the most. Once done, I immediately headed for the back door to holler at Rachael to come back inside. When I went to open the door, she was just sitting there on her wooden horse looking confused while holding two lifeless chicks.
At that point, I lost it. I raised my voice and yelled at my oldest daughter for something she wasnt able to take back. I asked for her to hand the baby chickens to me and walk away. My daughter, who is extremely emotional listened and never made a peep. Afterwards, for what I said to her, I felt incredibly horrible. But I know that my daughter needed a reaction for what she did. I just wish now that I wouldve approached it a bit different.
I tended to Jozlynne for a bit, while Rachael was thinking. My brother came home after being at the skatepark for a bit and I asked him not to talk to Rachael about what had just happened since I had just laid into her pretty good. He respected that.
My brother, Vaughn looked after Jozlynne for me so I could go outside and talk with Rachael about the incident.
I will admit, this is a talk that I wouldve liked to have waited for. When I stepped outside, she was just sitting there in a chair on the front deck. Her knees up to her chin and her hands covering her face. Never has she sat so still for so long. The first thing I did was walk over to her, scoop her into my arms and hold her. That is when she broke down. My three year old daughter who usually cries when something first happens, waited. I allowed her to let it all out. I even started to cry. Not over the chickens, but over the fact that she just had to be a part of one of lifes hard lessons. Once she was done crying as hard as she was, she looked at me and asked, "Mommy, why wont the baby chickens wake up?" A tear fell down her eye and I explained to my daughter that once something goes to heaven it cannot wake back up. I proceeded to tell her that the chicks have passed away and they are not able to wake up. Rachaels comment back to me was "why have they passed away mommy, just go ask them to wake up." I had to inform my three year old, who will be four in November that when something passes away, it means that the something has died, and we cannot wake that something or someone up. I had to explain to my three year about heaven and how once things go there, we are not able to bring them back. I had to explain to my three year old about God and how heaven works. My three year old comic, who was being serious when she asked me looked at me and said, "Mommy, just go up to heaven and ask God to give me my baby chickens back. Maybe they are just sleeping. If you ask them to just wake up." I smiled for a second and the tears started to fade. I told her that the baby chickens are in a safe place and God is watching them for her. I explained to her more about death and how it is hard but we somehow manage to get through it all. Rachael stood up on the bench, looked over and saw my dog, Gizmo. "Look mommy, he isnt dead. Look mommy, the chickens over there arent dead. They are alive!" I said to my daughter, "yes, they are alive. And one of these days you will understand that life is valuable. And we just need to be careful with the things that we love because we never know when those things will go." "Okay mommy, I will be nicer." And then she gave me a hug and kiss, jumped off my lap and ran back inside saying it was cold outside.
One of the hardest most difficult talks about life. It seemed like it lasted for nearly forever, but it was only about ten minutes altogether. Life is fragile. We need to cherish the life that each of us lives. Not only our own life, but the ones that we love. My daughter now knows to be much more careful with things. She learned a hard lesson, but she is better for it now.
Each day is a new lesson.
At that point, I lost it. I raised my voice and yelled at my oldest daughter for something she wasnt able to take back. I asked for her to hand the baby chickens to me and walk away. My daughter, who is extremely emotional listened and never made a peep. Afterwards, for what I said to her, I felt incredibly horrible. But I know that my daughter needed a reaction for what she did. I just wish now that I wouldve approached it a bit different.
I tended to Jozlynne for a bit, while Rachael was thinking. My brother came home after being at the skatepark for a bit and I asked him not to talk to Rachael about what had just happened since I had just laid into her pretty good. He respected that.
My brother, Vaughn looked after Jozlynne for me so I could go outside and talk with Rachael about the incident.
I will admit, this is a talk that I wouldve liked to have waited for. When I stepped outside, she was just sitting there in a chair on the front deck. Her knees up to her chin and her hands covering her face. Never has she sat so still for so long. The first thing I did was walk over to her, scoop her into my arms and hold her. That is when she broke down. My three year old daughter who usually cries when something first happens, waited. I allowed her to let it all out. I even started to cry. Not over the chickens, but over the fact that she just had to be a part of one of lifes hard lessons. Once she was done crying as hard as she was, she looked at me and asked, "Mommy, why wont the baby chickens wake up?" A tear fell down her eye and I explained to my daughter that once something goes to heaven it cannot wake back up. I proceeded to tell her that the chicks have passed away and they are not able to wake up. Rachaels comment back to me was "why have they passed away mommy, just go ask them to wake up." I had to inform my three year old, who will be four in November that when something passes away, it means that the something has died, and we cannot wake that something or someone up. I had to explain to my three year about heaven and how once things go there, we are not able to bring them back. I had to explain to my three year old about God and how heaven works. My three year old comic, who was being serious when she asked me looked at me and said, "Mommy, just go up to heaven and ask God to give me my baby chickens back. Maybe they are just sleeping. If you ask them to just wake up." I smiled for a second and the tears started to fade. I told her that the baby chickens are in a safe place and God is watching them for her. I explained to her more about death and how it is hard but we somehow manage to get through it all. Rachael stood up on the bench, looked over and saw my dog, Gizmo. "Look mommy, he isnt dead. Look mommy, the chickens over there arent dead. They are alive!" I said to my daughter, "yes, they are alive. And one of these days you will understand that life is valuable. And we just need to be careful with the things that we love because we never know when those things will go." "Okay mommy, I will be nicer." And then she gave me a hug and kiss, jumped off my lap and ran back inside saying it was cold outside.
One of the hardest most difficult talks about life. It seemed like it lasted for nearly forever, but it was only about ten minutes altogether. Life is fragile. We need to cherish the life that each of us lives. Not only our own life, but the ones that we love. My daughter now knows to be much more careful with things. She learned a hard lesson, but she is better for it now.
Each day is a new lesson.
Kid Gang Up (originally posted 04/23/2010 on my MySpace)
Tonight was pure hell. But now all I can do is just sit back and laugh about it.
My children literally ganged up on me tonight. Six, three, and one...I am almost for certain they got together somewhere in our home and rummaged up a way of stressing out mom. I am paranoid, I know. But children are smart. They may act stupid at times, but they are very intelligent.
We had spaghetti for dinner. That was fun enough. Of course the kids begin having an all out spaghetti war. Noodles were flying everywhere and I was caught dead center in the middle. I am sure that I have a little bit of sauce still stuck somewhere on my body or in my hair. I waited until after dinner to clean up.
As I am cleaning the spaghetti mess, Dylan decides to find then massacre a bran muffin. There are bits of muffin all through the house. It wasnt a trail of crumbs...it was an all out bag of chicken seed on my floor. GRRR. So then I go get the vacuum cleaner to get the mess taken care of. As I am vacuuming, the children decide to run back and forth throwing toys every which way. I have had enough. Paper, toys, food, plates, water spilled out of cups, etc. etc. Like Bill Cosby describes his wife on one of his stand up acts, I am that. My skin was probably falling off at this point and my eyes were bulging.
I think that it will be simple for me to gather what little bit of sanity I have remaining. I decide to give my oh so loving children a bath. I thought it would give me time to get the laundry together, hook up my internet on my laptop, and clean up the mess. How wrong I was. As I am fiddling on the laptop getting somewhat frustrated and confused at the same time with the internet connection and with Norton...Rachael comes out of the bathroom. But she doesnt look right. On top of her pants being hiked up as high as they could go. Rolled up. She is being very quiet. Sneaking behind me to grab towels out of the dirty clothes. I asked what she was doing. She told me that she needed the towels to clean up a little bit of water she spilled when giving water to the cat.
Her answer to me didnt feel right. I got up and went to the bathroom...at the same time, Rachael took off like a bat out of hell to her bedroom.
I turned the corner to go into the bathroom. There was Dylan with the cup that gets left in the bathtub for washing their hair. He is leaning over the tub ever so gently....pouring water ever so quietly out of the cup and on the floor. The floor is flooded. There was probably a good six inches of water in the tub. When I went in there, the bathtub had maybe one and a half inches of water. I wasnt gone that long out of the bathroom. But the kids made sure to work as quickly as they could....knowing it was wrong....dumping as much water as possible on the floor. I got them out of the bathtub as quickly as I could, ran them to their rooms, got their jammies on in like a minute flat and put them to bed.
It has been quiet since.
Moral of my story is do not undermine children. They work well with one another. They work well in teams. They will gang up on you when you least expect it. Tonight was stressful but after a while funny. I sit back now and think about the whole situation. The spaghetti fight...how Dylan looked as he was leaning over to "quietly" pour water on the floor....how Rachaels pants looked, as though she was going to a swamp...moments like these are the ones that I know I will look back on and laugh hysterically.
My children literally ganged up on me tonight. Six, three, and one...I am almost for certain they got together somewhere in our home and rummaged up a way of stressing out mom. I am paranoid, I know. But children are smart. They may act stupid at times, but they are very intelligent.
We had spaghetti for dinner. That was fun enough. Of course the kids begin having an all out spaghetti war. Noodles were flying everywhere and I was caught dead center in the middle. I am sure that I have a little bit of sauce still stuck somewhere on my body or in my hair. I waited until after dinner to clean up.
As I am cleaning the spaghetti mess, Dylan decides to find then massacre a bran muffin. There are bits of muffin all through the house. It wasnt a trail of crumbs...it was an all out bag of chicken seed on my floor. GRRR. So then I go get the vacuum cleaner to get the mess taken care of. As I am vacuuming, the children decide to run back and forth throwing toys every which way. I have had enough. Paper, toys, food, plates, water spilled out of cups, etc. etc. Like Bill Cosby describes his wife on one of his stand up acts, I am that. My skin was probably falling off at this point and my eyes were bulging.
I think that it will be simple for me to gather what little bit of sanity I have remaining. I decide to give my oh so loving children a bath. I thought it would give me time to get the laundry together, hook up my internet on my laptop, and clean up the mess. How wrong I was. As I am fiddling on the laptop getting somewhat frustrated and confused at the same time with the internet connection and with Norton...Rachael comes out of the bathroom. But she doesnt look right. On top of her pants being hiked up as high as they could go. Rolled up. She is being very quiet. Sneaking behind me to grab towels out of the dirty clothes. I asked what she was doing. She told me that she needed the towels to clean up a little bit of water she spilled when giving water to the cat.
Her answer to me didnt feel right. I got up and went to the bathroom...at the same time, Rachael took off like a bat out of hell to her bedroom.
I turned the corner to go into the bathroom. There was Dylan with the cup that gets left in the bathtub for washing their hair. He is leaning over the tub ever so gently....pouring water ever so quietly out of the cup and on the floor. The floor is flooded. There was probably a good six inches of water in the tub. When I went in there, the bathtub had maybe one and a half inches of water. I wasnt gone that long out of the bathroom. But the kids made sure to work as quickly as they could....knowing it was wrong....dumping as much water as possible on the floor. I got them out of the bathtub as quickly as I could, ran them to their rooms, got their jammies on in like a minute flat and put them to bed.
It has been quiet since.
Moral of my story is do not undermine children. They work well with one another. They work well in teams. They will gang up on you when you least expect it. Tonight was stressful but after a while funny. I sit back now and think about the whole situation. The spaghetti fight...how Dylan looked as he was leaning over to "quietly" pour water on the floor....how Rachaels pants looked, as though she was going to a swamp...moments like these are the ones that I know I will look back on and laugh hysterically.
The Hamster
Today started as such an amazing day for my teddy bear hamster, Rambo. He was running around in his big, green hamster ball with no care in the world. Everything was peaceful for my Rambo...until...
At the same moment Rambo was in his ball, I was sitting out in the living room enjoying a nice, hot cup of very strong coffee. Strong enough that if you put a spoon in the cup, the spoon would stand straight up. While enjoying my pick up for the morning, my drug of choice, I began to notice that my apartment was quiet. Quiet enough to make me uncomfortable. I could hear my youngest daughter, Jozlynne. But where were Dylan sounds???
I set my coffee cup down and first began to make my way down the hall into my bedroom. Nope. He wasnt in my bedroom. I turned around and went to open my sons door. As soon as I opened the door, instant panic from both my son and myself. My sons bedroom light was turned off, and I found him hiding behind his door....hamster ball in one hand, hamster in the other. When I belted out his name in shock and anger, he threw my hamster into the hamster ball and started to cry. I grabbed the hamster in worry and ran Rambo out to the living room to give him my "I am not a vet but I love you" exam. He was quite petrified and did not want to move, but seemed fine otherwise. I placed him back in his cage and gave him some cheese and a cracker to calm him down. The food did wonders.
Ugh. My son cannot be blamed for this incident. Kids do not mean to harm. Kids his age do not understand the concept yet of little animals like that. This moment just takes me back to a happening that involved my oldest daughter when she was three and two chicks. I will be sure to post that blog in a separate posting. As for now, I will keep my eye on my little hamster, Rambo, and only place him in the ball when a certain someone is down for the night. Rambo's casino visit this time was full of luck, but I doubt Rambo would want to gamble his life again.
I will end here with that I believe these happenings are definitely a culprit to parents early wrinkles and gray hair......I keep telling myself that I will survive parenthood. But I am not so sure.
At the same moment Rambo was in his ball, I was sitting out in the living room enjoying a nice, hot cup of very strong coffee. Strong enough that if you put a spoon in the cup, the spoon would stand straight up. While enjoying my pick up for the morning, my drug of choice, I began to notice that my apartment was quiet. Quiet enough to make me uncomfortable. I could hear my youngest daughter, Jozlynne. But where were Dylan sounds???
I set my coffee cup down and first began to make my way down the hall into my bedroom. Nope. He wasnt in my bedroom. I turned around and went to open my sons door. As soon as I opened the door, instant panic from both my son and myself. My sons bedroom light was turned off, and I found him hiding behind his door....hamster ball in one hand, hamster in the other. When I belted out his name in shock and anger, he threw my hamster into the hamster ball and started to cry. I grabbed the hamster in worry and ran Rambo out to the living room to give him my "I am not a vet but I love you" exam. He was quite petrified and did not want to move, but seemed fine otherwise. I placed him back in his cage and gave him some cheese and a cracker to calm him down. The food did wonders.
Ugh. My son cannot be blamed for this incident. Kids do not mean to harm. Kids his age do not understand the concept yet of little animals like that. This moment just takes me back to a happening that involved my oldest daughter when she was three and two chicks. I will be sure to post that blog in a separate posting. As for now, I will keep my eye on my little hamster, Rambo, and only place him in the ball when a certain someone is down for the night. Rambo's casino visit this time was full of luck, but I doubt Rambo would want to gamble his life again.
I will end here with that I believe these happenings are definitely a culprit to parents early wrinkles and gray hair......I keep telling myself that I will survive parenthood. But I am not so sure.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Male Dogs vs. My Son(Potty Training Nightmare)
In my book, I feel boys relate to male animals, such as dogs. Let me explain further.
I am presently in the process of potty training my son. This couldnt come as a greater joy for my son considering I potty train by allowing my children to run naked through the house. As long as there is no company over.
In potty training my son, I have come to the conclusion that he acts a lot like a male cat or dog. The reason for my thought is because he will literally run all through the house peeing here and there. And he doesnt pee large puddles either, but rather small markings. Just like a dog marking its territory. I will provide the most recent example. Yesterday, I had two of my best friends who live out of town coming over. We have a four bedroom apartment and my two daughters were going to share a room to allow for my friends to have a bed. I finally have the whole room clean and the bed is made up. My son is in his room playing. I leave my oldest daughter/guest room to go to the laundry area to transfer clothes from the washer to dryer. As I am doing so, Dylan shoots past me like a rocket into Rachael's room. He starts to turn the bedroom light on and off. I finish up what I am doing, then make my way to the bedroom to remove him....BUT WAIT!!!! Dylan has made sure to let my friends know that the room they are staying in is his. He has marked his territory on my oldest daughters dresser.
This behavior makes me think about potty training my daughters. Did I ever go through moments where my daughters would pee on the floor? Sure. Its to be expected when trying to teach someone to use the bathroom. However, did they pee on dressers, tables, while standing on beds, on a pile of clothes, on mommy's shoes??? NEVER! When potty training my girls, they were a lot like cats. They grasped the concept of toilet very quickly with the "diaper off potty training method." My son on the other hand believes the house to be his house(laughs), and loves to use his "manhood" to let everyone know that this house is his house and everything in it belongs to him by marking everything he comes into contact with.
And so again, boys being potty trained are a lot like male animals, such as dogs, in that they feel they have to pee on and mark every visible corner of wherever they have been. All I can say is thank God for washers and thank God for carpet deep cleaners!!! Amen!!!
I am presently in the process of potty training my son. This couldnt come as a greater joy for my son considering I potty train by allowing my children to run naked through the house. As long as there is no company over.
In potty training my son, I have come to the conclusion that he acts a lot like a male cat or dog. The reason for my thought is because he will literally run all through the house peeing here and there. And he doesnt pee large puddles either, but rather small markings. Just like a dog marking its territory. I will provide the most recent example. Yesterday, I had two of my best friends who live out of town coming over. We have a four bedroom apartment and my two daughters were going to share a room to allow for my friends to have a bed. I finally have the whole room clean and the bed is made up. My son is in his room playing. I leave my oldest daughter/guest room to go to the laundry area to transfer clothes from the washer to dryer. As I am doing so, Dylan shoots past me like a rocket into Rachael's room. He starts to turn the bedroom light on and off. I finish up what I am doing, then make my way to the bedroom to remove him....BUT WAIT!!!! Dylan has made sure to let my friends know that the room they are staying in is his. He has marked his territory on my oldest daughters dresser.
This behavior makes me think about potty training my daughters. Did I ever go through moments where my daughters would pee on the floor? Sure. Its to be expected when trying to teach someone to use the bathroom. However, did they pee on dressers, tables, while standing on beds, on a pile of clothes, on mommy's shoes??? NEVER! When potty training my girls, they were a lot like cats. They grasped the concept of toilet very quickly with the "diaper off potty training method." My son on the other hand believes the house to be his house(laughs), and loves to use his "manhood" to let everyone know that this house is his house and everything in it belongs to him by marking everything he comes into contact with.
And so again, boys being potty trained are a lot like male animals, such as dogs, in that they feel they have to pee on and mark every visible corner of wherever they have been. All I can say is thank God for washers and thank God for carpet deep cleaners!!! Amen!!!
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