First let me welcome my niece who isn't. The "she" we all were expecting and for whom I diligently scoured the clearance racks for Christmas gifts arrived last night as a very healthy, 8 pound, baby boy. Welcome to our crazy family Layton Arthur. I would like to reassure the out-of-towners that the spoiling has already commenced.
Lauren took the news that Auntie Rachel delivered a baby boy rather poorly. After all, everyone was expecting a girl baby. Lauren's exact words were(very sad face, blue eyes downcast, lip in a pout): "Awww...but Mommy, I don't like boy babies. I like girl babies. I want to play with a girl baby. (Sniffle) I'm just so sad, Mommy." But like all Lauren's traumas and difficulties, this too was short lived after some back rubbing and sympathy.
Brandon has been nothing short of an absolute terror in church. To the point I tell him that I will never, ever take him to church again. Which results in him crying that he loves church. He begs me to take him to church. He picks out his clothes ahead of time, wears only his favorite shirts, and asks me every day, "Is today a church day?"
I cannot, for the life of me, get the child to sit with the other children to learn the songs for the Christmas Pageant but he sings them at home and becomes really upset if I threaten to pull him out of the play. I want to scream. I want Brandon to understand that he IS going to attend church service with the family, even if it kills Rich and I and we don't hear a word Pastor Kurt says the first six months of 2008.
Jonathon and Noah have survived the first quarter of school. Rich and I survived conferences. I always take Advil before I attend parent/teacher conferences, thinking it will make the entire experience less painful. We never hear horrible or terrible things about our children. Our kids are bright, great problem-solvers and well-mannered.
However, we hear things like, "Noah has such a bright mind. During our discussion about dinosaurs he and another student were absolutely certain that the scientists are wrong that the dinosaurs roamed the Earth 25 million years ago because Jesus was here 25 hundred years ago. And there is no way that God would put His son on Earth before the dinosaurs. The scientists have it wrong."
Much to Noah's teachers credit, she handled it very well, explaining to Noah and his class that everyone has their own beliefs, that no one is positive when the dinosaurs were here, and that this is the scientists best guess, etc.
Much to my credit, my head does not explode in to a million pieces when I hear these things now. My smile hardly even falters. I simply close my eyes briefly, open them, and say, "Of course my son did. That's sounds just like Noah."
Jonathon is also having a successful school year. Nothing quite as funny at his conferences, but I will not leave the crowd without a Jon story. Initially for Thanksgiving 2007, Rich and I had planned on taking the kids to volunteer for the Community Meal in our community. (This was before Jonathon was hit with bronchiospasms, I was down with severe bronchitis and unable to catch my breath, and Rich did not come from work until 12:30am, all on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.)
Anyway, the week before the family was hit with the bronchial plague, I was inside of the van with the kids, while Rich was putting gas into the tank, explaining what we would we would be doing at the Community meal, such as serving food, removing plates, helping people to their seats; basically whatever needed to be done. Jonathon, who was in a bad mood to begin with, yelled, "You mean we have to be their servants?"
To which I calmly replied: "No, we are going to make their lives easier for a day. Jon, these are people that are not going home to Game Cubes and soccer lessons and maybe not even enough food at their houses." It was silent for a few moments and then I heard crying from the back of the van. I asked (rather exasperated), "Jon, What is your problem now?" His tearful reply: "Now I feel bad because I was fighting about helping poor people!"
I started banging my head against the dashboard. Honest to God. I really did. It felt really good when I stopped. And it was my choice to stop. Even better stopping and starting was something that I could control unlike my sons emotional roller coasters that he likes to take me for rides on with no prior warning.
Well, just as the blog started with a blessing of new life with all his parts in working order, many of us are getting older and some our parts do not want to work in their correct order. So I will end it with extra prayers and wishes of a speedy continued recovery to my Dad and brother-in-law Ken. I hope you get all those parts working soon.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Public Service Announcement
After sitting in the bar of Point Bowl Thursday night, (thank you NFL for the blackout) in order to watch my beloved Packers be completely mistreated by the referees yet again (Redskins game anyone?) which caused them to lose to Dallas, my even more beloved Brett Farve suffer a elbow injury causing him to sit our for the rest of the game, all the while trying not aggravate an already inflamed asthma attack, I realized that even more shocking than all the football events playing out around me was this:
Most of the people around me were drinking way too much alcohol and still planning on driving themselves home.
This really upset me. Because the drunk person behind the wheel probably won't take out themselves in a fatal accident. Chances are they will take out a family of four. Or six. Or my family. Or my friends. And that is tragic. And completely, 100% preventable. I don't care how long they have been drinking and driving. I don't care how "good" or how much "practice" they think they have had. The fact of the matter is, up until now they have just been lucky that they haven't been caught or caused a fatal accident. Every time they get behind the wheel intoxicated, above the legal limit, they are endangering my friends and my family. And I like my friends. Most days I even like my family.
Even in college where I was no choir angel, my friends and I always had a designated driver. I will even tell you why we did, or at least my reason. Fear. Pure, abject, and total fear of my mother. My parents couldn't pay my tuition, but they could and did, generously pay for my truck when I was in college. I was cold-stone terrified by the prospect of ever having to tell my mother that I had been pulled over for a DUI. Not only would it have been the end of my truck privileges, but probably much of life as I knew it, so I never put myself in a situation to discover the alternatives. I walked, crawled, stumbled, and staggered home. I took my turn as the designated driver. I did not drink and drive even in college.
So, as your friend, your relative, the person your friend forwards this too, or your random blogger, please do not get the behind the wheel if you are intoxicated. Even if you think you are borderline intoxicated and unsure if you should drive, call a cab, give your keys to a sober person, or call someone to come and pick you up. The benefits of not paying $6000.00 for your first DUI, the embarrassment of it, and the potential injuries you may incur, far outweigh any inconveniences you may face in the next morning.
I love my husband, my kids, my friends, and my family. All of them deserve to live their lives to fullest and not have them cut short because of poor decision making. Accidents are avoidable. So is driving drunk. So, for my families sake, for your families sake, make the smart choice and please, please, stop driving drunk.
Most of the people around me were drinking way too much alcohol and still planning on driving themselves home.
This really upset me. Because the drunk person behind the wheel probably won't take out themselves in a fatal accident. Chances are they will take out a family of four. Or six. Or my family. Or my friends. And that is tragic. And completely, 100% preventable. I don't care how long they have been drinking and driving. I don't care how "good" or how much "practice" they think they have had. The fact of the matter is, up until now they have just been lucky that they haven't been caught or caused a fatal accident. Every time they get behind the wheel intoxicated, above the legal limit, they are endangering my friends and my family. And I like my friends. Most days I even like my family.
Even in college where I was no choir angel, my friends and I always had a designated driver. I will even tell you why we did, or at least my reason. Fear. Pure, abject, and total fear of my mother. My parents couldn't pay my tuition, but they could and did, generously pay for my truck when I was in college. I was cold-stone terrified by the prospect of ever having to tell my mother that I had been pulled over for a DUI. Not only would it have been the end of my truck privileges, but probably much of life as I knew it, so I never put myself in a situation to discover the alternatives. I walked, crawled, stumbled, and staggered home. I took my turn as the designated driver. I did not drink and drive even in college.
So, as your friend, your relative, the person your friend forwards this too, or your random blogger, please do not get the behind the wheel if you are intoxicated. Even if you think you are borderline intoxicated and unsure if you should drive, call a cab, give your keys to a sober person, or call someone to come and pick you up. The benefits of not paying $6000.00 for your first DUI, the embarrassment of it, and the potential injuries you may incur, far outweigh any inconveniences you may face in the next morning.
I love my husband, my kids, my friends, and my family. All of them deserve to live their lives to fullest and not have them cut short because of poor decision making. Accidents are avoidable. So is driving drunk. So, for my families sake, for your families sake, make the smart choice and please, please, stop driving drunk.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
What Matters (Dedicated to Bonnie and Brigetta)
My friend and I were discussing the blog yesterday and after she sighed, "It must be nice to be that creative all the time. I would have been the mom yelling, "Put on your darn jacket because I am the mom!"
That's when I thought I better do some damage control and reassure everyone that OH YES...I can very much be that mom too. Shockingly, my life is not all being more evil than Darth Vader and my daughter showing off her underwear in gas stations. Believe me, I can drop my kids off at school still wearing my pajamas, with my unbrushed teeth, unwashed face, and uncombed hair, yelling at my (jacketless) kids with the best of the other parents. I can so be that person.
I never think to write about about the: "Check your backpack, brush your teeth, put on your socks and shoes, put your clothes down the laundry chute, take a shower, get ready for bed, stop fighting, DO NOT pick on each other, NO you cannot have soda, NO you cannot beat up your brother, NO he ABSOLUTELY does NOT deserve it, PLEASE get your shoes where they belong, I DON'T CARE WHAT HE DID YOU ARE NOT BEATING HIM UP,no you cannot have a snack five minutes before supper, Why is the jacket on the floor now?, Get in your room I told you not to beat up your brother!!" because I think it is not as entertaining to read what most parents battle most days of the week.
And it is a vicious, vicious, cycle that never ends, just a variation on the same theme, so I tend to write about the funnier moments and glimpses into our lives in order to give all of us moments of relief from this insane roller coaster ride named Parenthood. But I am not this uber creative mom with all the answers. Like most of my friends and fellow parenthood inmates, I am doing the best I can, one day at a time by placing one foot in front of the other and going forward.
Some days I pray to God for strength, wisdom and guidance so that Rich and I can raise our children to become happy and productive members of society. I pray that we have a strong, faith filled, and generous family. Other days, I pray everyone lives long enough to make into their beds without any more tears on their part or mine.
And like everyone else strapped into the ride with only a safety belt and only a scant few warning signs along the way, sometimes the best we can do for the day is put one foot in front of the other and solider forward. Our kids are going to eat McDonald's for supper. Or scrambled eggs and bacon. Or roast beef with all the trimmings. Some days, we have time to play board games with our kids, enjoying the laughter and savoring every moment. Other days our kids look like blurry people that we think we use to spend quality time with (and how did the neighbor kids manage to sneak over to play?). Some days we have time to kiss the boo-boo, apply the cream and Band-aid, and cuddle our kids for a little while until the hurt has eased. Other days we tell 'em to suck it up, rub some dirt in it, and go play.
And guess what? As parents we do not get it right every time. There are days we should have made the roast beef. We strain the budget because we order McDonalds. We rub dirt in and we should have put on the cream & Band-aid. We should have played the board game and listened to what was happening at school. We said, "Hey, you want to go without a jacket and freeze your behind off and be cold, those are your natural consequences." And then worried all day.
The important thing to remember is this:
It doesn't matter if you want to argue Star Wars metaphors with your kids or if you want to tell them to "put on the darn jacket."
What matters is that you love your kids enough to know that is cold and they need to wear their jacket to school this morning. And they went to school wearing their jacket because you love them enough to make them without abusing them to do it.
It matters that you love your child enough to know that you you might not have this parenting thing mastered, but you love them enough to do it to the best of your capabilities.
At the end of these long, sleep deprived days of parenthood that is what matters.
That's when I thought I better do some damage control and reassure everyone that OH YES...I can very much be that mom too. Shockingly, my life is not all being more evil than Darth Vader and my daughter showing off her underwear in gas stations. Believe me, I can drop my kids off at school still wearing my pajamas, with my unbrushed teeth, unwashed face, and uncombed hair, yelling at my (jacketless) kids with the best of the other parents. I can so be that person.
I never think to write about about the: "Check your backpack, brush your teeth, put on your socks and shoes, put your clothes down the laundry chute, take a shower, get ready for bed, stop fighting, DO NOT pick on each other, NO you cannot have soda, NO you cannot beat up your brother, NO he ABSOLUTELY does NOT deserve it, PLEASE get your shoes where they belong, I DON'T CARE WHAT HE DID YOU ARE NOT BEATING HIM UP,no you cannot have a snack five minutes before supper, Why is the jacket on the floor now?, Get in your room I told you not to beat up your brother!!" because I think it is not as entertaining to read what most parents battle most days of the week.
And it is a vicious, vicious, cycle that never ends, just a variation on the same theme, so I tend to write about the funnier moments and glimpses into our lives in order to give all of us moments of relief from this insane roller coaster ride named Parenthood. But I am not this uber creative mom with all the answers. Like most of my friends and fellow parenthood inmates, I am doing the best I can, one day at a time by placing one foot in front of the other and going forward.
Some days I pray to God for strength, wisdom and guidance so that Rich and I can raise our children to become happy and productive members of society. I pray that we have a strong, faith filled, and generous family. Other days, I pray everyone lives long enough to make into their beds without any more tears on their part or mine.
And like everyone else strapped into the ride with only a safety belt and only a scant few warning signs along the way, sometimes the best we can do for the day is put one foot in front of the other and solider forward. Our kids are going to eat McDonald's for supper. Or scrambled eggs and bacon. Or roast beef with all the trimmings. Some days, we have time to play board games with our kids, enjoying the laughter and savoring every moment. Other days our kids look like blurry people that we think we use to spend quality time with (and how did the neighbor kids manage to sneak over to play?). Some days we have time to kiss the boo-boo, apply the cream and Band-aid, and cuddle our kids for a little while until the hurt has eased. Other days we tell 'em to suck it up, rub some dirt in it, and go play.
And guess what? As parents we do not get it right every time. There are days we should have made the roast beef. We strain the budget because we order McDonalds. We rub dirt in and we should have put on the cream & Band-aid. We should have played the board game and listened to what was happening at school. We said, "Hey, you want to go without a jacket and freeze your behind off and be cold, those are your natural consequences." And then worried all day.
The important thing to remember is this:
It doesn't matter if you want to argue Star Wars metaphors with your kids or if you want to tell them to "put on the darn jacket."
What matters is that you love your kids enough to know that is cold and they need to wear their jacket to school this morning. And they went to school wearing their jacket because you love them enough to make them without abusing them to do it.
It matters that you love your child enough to know that you you might not have this parenting thing mastered, but you love them enough to do it to the best of your capabilities.
At the end of these long, sleep deprived days of parenthood that is what matters.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Annakin's Mother and Other Feats of Super Hero Strength
I have lost another six weeks of life to (mis)adventures, cajoling, and general craziness. While I can assure you I have definitely NOT been sleeping through said time, I have not had many blocks of time to sit down in order to update the blog. So while the pie is baking in the oven for the church function we are attending in a few hours, the kids are being reasonably peaceful, and the Packers are on the TV, I will forgo some sleep and finally catch everyone up on some of the more major events of the past six weeks.
Well, Noah dodged the marriage bullet. Sadly, following that episode he became addicted to chewable Tylenol. The addiction was most likely a result of his attempts to dull the pain his legs incurred from running away from his overzealous, determined, future bride and her future bridemaids on the playground, as well as headaches induced by thinking up escape plans. We did manage to avoid an expensive rehad stint; Rich and I made him quit cold turkey.
In other Noah drama, he was Darth Vader for Halloween and dressed as such for his party at school. The day of the party though, the weather was quite chilly as Wisconsin mornings in October tend to be, but the child absolutely refused to wear his winter jacket. The following is the actual, honest goodness conversation Noah and I had before he left for school that morning:
Me: "Noah you need to wear your jacket. It's very cold outside."
Noah (full costume, best seven year James Earl Jones voice): "Darth Vader doesn't wear a jacket."
Me: "Darth's Vader's mom told him to wear a jacket. Now."
Noah: "Darth Vader doesn't have a mom. Darth Vader is evil. Darth Vader doesn't wear a jacket.
So at this point, I am dying of laughter on the inside. Noah is saying this in his best James Earl Jones voice, full height, full costume, marching around the house, humming the Imperial Death March at full volume, determined not to wear his jacket to school. Rich, Jonathon, and Brandon are not attempting to hide their laughter. Jonathon is actually laughing and warning Noah that he is probably going to ended up grounded. And part of me is like, okay kid, you wanna throw down, you really wanna challenge me and start my Wednesday, coffeeless morning like this, I am going to beat you at your own game. Let's go. Game on. Here's part two of the conversation:
Me (yelling as Noah is walking out the door, thinking he is victorious and the Dark Side has triumphed): "Hey, Noah, Darth Vader actually started out as Annakin, so he did have a mom, so you're wearing your jacket to school today!"
Jonathon and Noah (chiming in, together, excited): "Guess, what!! Annakin's mom was kidnapped, tortured, and killed, so no jacket!"
Me(smug): "But not when he was Seven years old!! Annakin's mom was still alive when he was seven years old and he wasn't even sold yet, so, Noah has to wear his jacket to school because He is actually PRE-DARTH VADER!!"
All of sudden, Noah's little Darth Vader shoulders, cape and all, slump in defeat, and the voice behind the mask says, miserably, still in character: "Darth Vader has been defeated. Darth Vader will wear his jacket to school." And me, being the model of maturity that I am, replied, "Remember Darth Vader, the Force always wins."
And just to make my non-caffienated morning more special, in a motion of support to his brother, I hear Jonathon tell Noah on the way to the mini van, thinking he is out of ear shot of me: "Remember Noah, our Mom is more evil than Darth Vader."
Just because Jonathon is right doesn't mean I need the positive reinforcement.
Another feat of super human strength we accomplished as a family is we have started attending church. I am so proud of this feat. We attend Redeemer Lutheran Church and it is an amazing experience. The kid enjoy going to Sunday School. While they do that, Rich and I attend a parenting group. Afterwards, sometimes Rich leaves for work, Lauren and Brandon go to Nursery, and Jon, Noah, and I go to worship. Tonight we are going to the new member dinner. Next week, on his ninth birthday, Jonathon will receive his first Bible during church service. What an amazing milestone for my son! And, for the first time ever, all four kids will be in the Christmas Pageant. (Can you say "The Greatest Christmas Pageant Ever?") But I wanted to start attending church as a family, so I circled the Sunday after Labor Day on the calendar and just did it. Two months later, here we are, involved members of an incredible church community and a stronger family because of it.
Jonathon is rostered on a traveling soccer team for spring. He is reading and writing at grade level. All the hard work Rich and I did last year has more than paid dividends this year. Brandon is now five going on forty. He has left that toddler stage and has entered that helpful little boy stage. It happened so suddenly that I don't always trust it and don't always know what to do with it. So I find chores for him to do. He, more than all the kids, loves to go to church and helping Pastor Kurt. Oh my goodness, do they Love Brandon at church. And Ms. Lauren finally quit showing her underwear (Big Sigh of Relief!!) to the general public. She is also growing like a bad weed. She likes making me call all my friends so we can go out to lunch or go to their houses when her brothers are school, so she can be extra spoiled. "Lauren, would you like a Popsicle? Lauren, would you the princess cup? Lauren, do you want go for a special ride with Mommy and I? Of course you can have gum Lauren, I keep it here for you." It's good to be a Princess.
Speaking of super hero feats, Brett Farve just set (Another) record, this one being one of three quarterbacks to defeat all the other 31 teams in NFL, and my Packers are 7-1. Given the level of sheer exhaustion I am operating on today, we still have the church dinner which attend, and third grade homework to complete, this seems a perfectly arbitrary factoid on which to end this update.
Otherwise, know that the kids are operating on perfectly normal levels of chaos, Rich is opening a new store in West Bend, WI, on November 20, 2007, and I am a stay at home mom that never manages to get her the cleanliness of her home under control.
In other words, nothing has changed, and I will have more horror stories with which to entertain you.
Well, Noah dodged the marriage bullet. Sadly, following that episode he became addicted to chewable Tylenol. The addiction was most likely a result of his attempts to dull the pain his legs incurred from running away from his overzealous, determined, future bride and her future bridemaids on the playground, as well as headaches induced by thinking up escape plans. We did manage to avoid an expensive rehad stint; Rich and I made him quit cold turkey.
In other Noah drama, he was Darth Vader for Halloween and dressed as such for his party at school. The day of the party though, the weather was quite chilly as Wisconsin mornings in October tend to be, but the child absolutely refused to wear his winter jacket. The following is the actual, honest goodness conversation Noah and I had before he left for school that morning:
Me: "Noah you need to wear your jacket. It's very cold outside."
Noah (full costume, best seven year James Earl Jones voice): "Darth Vader doesn't wear a jacket."
Me: "Darth's Vader's mom told him to wear a jacket. Now."
Noah: "Darth Vader doesn't have a mom. Darth Vader is evil. Darth Vader doesn't wear a jacket.
So at this point, I am dying of laughter on the inside. Noah is saying this in his best James Earl Jones voice, full height, full costume, marching around the house, humming the Imperial Death March at full volume, determined not to wear his jacket to school. Rich, Jonathon, and Brandon are not attempting to hide their laughter. Jonathon is actually laughing and warning Noah that he is probably going to ended up grounded. And part of me is like, okay kid, you wanna throw down, you really wanna challenge me and start my Wednesday, coffeeless morning like this, I am going to beat you at your own game. Let's go. Game on. Here's part two of the conversation:
Me (yelling as Noah is walking out the door, thinking he is victorious and the Dark Side has triumphed): "Hey, Noah, Darth Vader actually started out as Annakin, so he did have a mom, so you're wearing your jacket to school today!"
Jonathon and Noah (chiming in, together, excited): "Guess, what!! Annakin's mom was kidnapped, tortured, and killed, so no jacket!"
Me(smug): "But not when he was Seven years old!! Annakin's mom was still alive when he was seven years old and he wasn't even sold yet, so, Noah has to wear his jacket to school because He is actually PRE-DARTH VADER!!"
All of sudden, Noah's little Darth Vader shoulders, cape and all, slump in defeat, and the voice behind the mask says, miserably, still in character: "Darth Vader has been defeated. Darth Vader will wear his jacket to school." And me, being the model of maturity that I am, replied, "Remember Darth Vader, the Force always wins."
And just to make my non-caffienated morning more special, in a motion of support to his brother, I hear Jonathon tell Noah on the way to the mini van, thinking he is out of ear shot of me: "Remember Noah, our Mom is more evil than Darth Vader."
Just because Jonathon is right doesn't mean I need the positive reinforcement.
Another feat of super human strength we accomplished as a family is we have started attending church. I am so proud of this feat. We attend Redeemer Lutheran Church and it is an amazing experience. The kid enjoy going to Sunday School. While they do that, Rich and I attend a parenting group. Afterwards, sometimes Rich leaves for work, Lauren and Brandon go to Nursery, and Jon, Noah, and I go to worship. Tonight we are going to the new member dinner. Next week, on his ninth birthday, Jonathon will receive his first Bible during church service. What an amazing milestone for my son! And, for the first time ever, all four kids will be in the Christmas Pageant. (Can you say "The Greatest Christmas Pageant Ever?") But I wanted to start attending church as a family, so I circled the Sunday after Labor Day on the calendar and just did it. Two months later, here we are, involved members of an incredible church community and a stronger family because of it.
Jonathon is rostered on a traveling soccer team for spring. He is reading and writing at grade level. All the hard work Rich and I did last year has more than paid dividends this year. Brandon is now five going on forty. He has left that toddler stage and has entered that helpful little boy stage. It happened so suddenly that I don't always trust it and don't always know what to do with it. So I find chores for him to do. He, more than all the kids, loves to go to church and helping Pastor Kurt. Oh my goodness, do they Love Brandon at church. And Ms. Lauren finally quit showing her underwear (Big Sigh of Relief!!) to the general public. She is also growing like a bad weed. She likes making me call all my friends so we can go out to lunch or go to their houses when her brothers are school, so she can be extra spoiled. "Lauren, would you like a Popsicle? Lauren, would you the princess cup? Lauren, do you want go for a special ride with Mommy and I? Of course you can have gum Lauren, I keep it here for you." It's good to be a Princess.
Speaking of super hero feats, Brett Farve just set (Another) record, this one being one of three quarterbacks to defeat all the other 31 teams in NFL, and my Packers are 7-1. Given the level of sheer exhaustion I am operating on today, we still have the church dinner which attend, and third grade homework to complete, this seems a perfectly arbitrary factoid on which to end this update.
Otherwise, know that the kids are operating on perfectly normal levels of chaos, Rich is opening a new store in West Bend, WI, on November 20, 2007, and I am a stay at home mom that never manages to get her the cleanliness of her home under control.
In other words, nothing has changed, and I will have more horror stories with which to entertain you.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Noah's Great Escape Plan
Two weeks ago, there was supposed to be a funny post about sending three boys back to school. How the fall breeze ruffled their hair. How five days previously, they had met their teachers, sought out their classrooms, and Jon and Noah had discovered they had their best friends in their classes this year. All in all, it was supposed to be a joyous, happy, stress free time and a short post. Instead you are getting a long, overdue post, which was nothing like I had planned to write, but rather an accounting of what actually happened rather than what I had envisioned.
Jonathon had a terrible first day of school because he had to copy off of the black board. Actually, he had a terrible first day because the four days building up to the first day he had convinced himself he was going to have a bad first day. Copying off the board was just the thing that was the trigger so he could home and say, "See I told you school was going to be awful! I knew it!" It was meltdown city at the Tolbert house for twelve straight hours. The poor kid only slept about six hours after first day of school and that's because the Benadryl he takes for seasonal allergies kicked in and allowed him to relax enough to sleep.
Fortunately, most of that has been resolved. Now, he loves his teacher, he scored 100% on his first Spelling test (which is a huge deal after the year we had last year), his confidence is increasing and his anxiety lessening, and he is not fighting us about going to school like he did last year. In the near future, I am going to be posting a blog about Jonathon, the functional vision therapy attends, as well as the challenges and the joys we have gone through with him the past year.
I debated about writing about it since the blog has been mostly entertainment, but decided, hey it's my blog, I can post whatever I want. Actually, I realized it's parental dishonesty not to write about the challenges Rich and I have faced with Jonathon. While it might be a gift to see the comedy in the stressful moments, there are long stretches of moments where there is more stress than comedy in parenting, and sometimes it is just as helpful for other parents to read about the challenges as well as the levity.
Brandon's first day of school went much better than last years first day. He actually stayed in his classroom this year and did not try to run away. Brandon attends 4 year kindergarten at the YMCA; in the afternoons. This year I did not find him at the circulation desk telling me that he was bored, so he gave his Play-doh to his best buddy and left the classroom. This year he has made a new best friend, Sam, and another friend Pax.
I went to help out Brandon's class on Thursday, and discovered that Brandon is a little ringleader. Which should not surprise me, but at home he mostly aligns himself with Jon. It was so interesting to watch that little turkey at school leading the other kids into NOT listening to the CD when it yelled FREEZE. Every time the guy on the CD said "FREEZE!" Brandon said, "NEVER!" and kept moving. Pretty soon, there were five little boys yelling "NEVER!" back at the CD and still moving. I just watched, not horribly surprised, a tiny bit impressed, and mostly resigned to lots of parent teacher conferences for this kid.
Lauren, while not in school, has started Toddler Gymnastics and is loving every moment of it. The Popsicle bribe actually worked and she is about 99% potty trained with a very occasional accident. Thanks to some very generous friends, who gave Lauren enough hand me downs to clothe three children this summer, she will now only wear dresses and tights. Lucky me, I get to go buy her winter dresses and tights to support the habit. While the boys were at school on Wednesday, Rich and I did take her out for lunch at Chili's and bought her a Green Bay Packer's dress to kick off the season. Not my usual Goodwill/used kids clothes store/rummage sale standard, but I was willing to make an exception this time.
Normally, I try to update the stories about the kids in order. This time, however, Noah's update is at the end for a reason. I had to save the best for last or the rest of the stories would have been anti- climatic.
Noah had a great first day of school. Noah has an awesome teacher, is being pulled out twice a week for Gifted and Talented Math because he sees patterns in Math that us mere mortals do not understand, and in general, goes about school with the attitude, "If I do well in school, don't get grounded during the week, I can play video games on the weekend."
However, I found out on Thursday, Noah has had something else on his mind. There is a little girl at school that wants to marry Noah. To protect the innocent, and save Noah teasing on the holidays, I will call her Little Girl X.
Driving home from school Thursday, I hear Noah's voice from the back of the van, very upset, very concerned, and the following words come rushing out: "Mom, Little Girl X says she is going to marry me when we are grown up. She's going to make me. I really don't want to marry her. She can't make me marry her. Can she make me marry her, Mom? I can't marry her can I, Mom? Please say No. I'm too young to die!!"
I don't know how I kept the van on the road, let alone kept a straight face. I reassured Noah that he most definitely did NOT have to marry the young girl in question, that grownups are not forced to marry one another, no matter how much one party may insist upon marriage. Noah's response to this was, "Whew, Thank Goodness! Now I can finally get some sleep! I was so worried about this! Thanks Mom!"
But, as is always the case with Noah, the story doesn't end there. It gets even better. Friday night, Noah was talking to his friend Eric, who was spending the night at our house. Noah was explaining the dire situation to his best buddy. "Eric, I can't let Little Girl X marry me. If I get married, you, me, and James aren't going to able to get our apartment together and play video games all day. Help me think of a plan so she can't find me and make me marry her. Fast." Well, after about two or three minutes of brainstorming, Eric decides that Noah can send this girl an email.
Noah excitedly picks it up from there: "I've got it! I'll send her an email that says we live in Texas! No, Arizona, Phoenix, because that's the desert! It's really hot there. She can go there and look for me." Eric (concerned)replies: "Noah, I don't want to live in Texas or Arizona. It's hot and too far from my mom." Noah (still excited) says: "That's the great idea of the plan. We're not moving. We'll be playing video games in our apartment in Stevens Point with James the whole time. She'll be hot and mad and searching the desert and won't be able to find us. When she calls our cell phone try to find us we just won't answer it. Isn't that a great plan?"
Of course, this is followed by a round of high fives, oh yeahs, this is the best idea ever, we're so smart, and me with tears in my eyes from laughing. Thank goodness they could not see me. Wisely, I am staying out of this whole scheme and keeping my opinions to myself. As long as Noah is not under the impression that I am subsidizing the apartment and cell phone while he play his video games with James and Eric all day, he can have his plans and great ideas. Unencumbered by marriage.
Jonathon had a terrible first day of school because he had to copy off of the black board. Actually, he had a terrible first day because the four days building up to the first day he had convinced himself he was going to have a bad first day. Copying off the board was just the thing that was the trigger so he could home and say, "See I told you school was going to be awful! I knew it!" It was meltdown city at the Tolbert house for twelve straight hours. The poor kid only slept about six hours after first day of school and that's because the Benadryl he takes for seasonal allergies kicked in and allowed him to relax enough to sleep.
Fortunately, most of that has been resolved. Now, he loves his teacher, he scored 100% on his first Spelling test (which is a huge deal after the year we had last year), his confidence is increasing and his anxiety lessening, and he is not fighting us about going to school like he did last year. In the near future, I am going to be posting a blog about Jonathon, the functional vision therapy attends, as well as the challenges and the joys we have gone through with him the past year.
I debated about writing about it since the blog has been mostly entertainment, but decided, hey it's my blog, I can post whatever I want. Actually, I realized it's parental dishonesty not to write about the challenges Rich and I have faced with Jonathon. While it might be a gift to see the comedy in the stressful moments, there are long stretches of moments where there is more stress than comedy in parenting, and sometimes it is just as helpful for other parents to read about the challenges as well as the levity.
Brandon's first day of school went much better than last years first day. He actually stayed in his classroom this year and did not try to run away. Brandon attends 4 year kindergarten at the YMCA; in the afternoons. This year I did not find him at the circulation desk telling me that he was bored, so he gave his Play-doh to his best buddy and left the classroom. This year he has made a new best friend, Sam, and another friend Pax.
I went to help out Brandon's class on Thursday, and discovered that Brandon is a little ringleader. Which should not surprise me, but at home he mostly aligns himself with Jon. It was so interesting to watch that little turkey at school leading the other kids into NOT listening to the CD when it yelled FREEZE. Every time the guy on the CD said "FREEZE!" Brandon said, "NEVER!" and kept moving. Pretty soon, there were five little boys yelling "NEVER!" back at the CD and still moving. I just watched, not horribly surprised, a tiny bit impressed, and mostly resigned to lots of parent teacher conferences for this kid.
Lauren, while not in school, has started Toddler Gymnastics and is loving every moment of it. The Popsicle bribe actually worked and she is about 99% potty trained with a very occasional accident. Thanks to some very generous friends, who gave Lauren enough hand me downs to clothe three children this summer, she will now only wear dresses and tights. Lucky me, I get to go buy her winter dresses and tights to support the habit. While the boys were at school on Wednesday, Rich and I did take her out for lunch at Chili's and bought her a Green Bay Packer's dress to kick off the season. Not my usual Goodwill/used kids clothes store/rummage sale standard, but I was willing to make an exception this time.
Normally, I try to update the stories about the kids in order. This time, however, Noah's update is at the end for a reason. I had to save the best for last or the rest of the stories would have been anti- climatic.
Noah had a great first day of school. Noah has an awesome teacher, is being pulled out twice a week for Gifted and Talented Math because he sees patterns in Math that us mere mortals do not understand, and in general, goes about school with the attitude, "If I do well in school, don't get grounded during the week, I can play video games on the weekend."
However, I found out on Thursday, Noah has had something else on his mind. There is a little girl at school that wants to marry Noah. To protect the innocent, and save Noah teasing on the holidays, I will call her Little Girl X.
Driving home from school Thursday, I hear Noah's voice from the back of the van, very upset, very concerned, and the following words come rushing out: "Mom, Little Girl X says she is going to marry me when we are grown up. She's going to make me. I really don't want to marry her. She can't make me marry her. Can she make me marry her, Mom? I can't marry her can I, Mom? Please say No. I'm too young to die!!"
I don't know how I kept the van on the road, let alone kept a straight face. I reassured Noah that he most definitely did NOT have to marry the young girl in question, that grownups are not forced to marry one another, no matter how much one party may insist upon marriage. Noah's response to this was, "Whew, Thank Goodness! Now I can finally get some sleep! I was so worried about this! Thanks Mom!"
But, as is always the case with Noah, the story doesn't end there. It gets even better. Friday night, Noah was talking to his friend Eric, who was spending the night at our house. Noah was explaining the dire situation to his best buddy. "Eric, I can't let Little Girl X marry me. If I get married, you, me, and James aren't going to able to get our apartment together and play video games all day. Help me think of a plan so she can't find me and make me marry her. Fast." Well, after about two or three minutes of brainstorming, Eric decides that Noah can send this girl an email.
Noah excitedly picks it up from there: "I've got it! I'll send her an email that says we live in Texas! No, Arizona, Phoenix, because that's the desert! It's really hot there. She can go there and look for me." Eric (concerned)replies: "Noah, I don't want to live in Texas or Arizona. It's hot and too far from my mom." Noah (still excited) says: "That's the great idea of the plan. We're not moving. We'll be playing video games in our apartment in Stevens Point with James the whole time. She'll be hot and mad and searching the desert and won't be able to find us. When she calls our cell phone try to find us we just won't answer it. Isn't that a great plan?"
Of course, this is followed by a round of high fives, oh yeahs, this is the best idea ever, we're so smart, and me with tears in my eyes from laughing. Thank goodness they could not see me. Wisely, I am staying out of this whole scheme and keeping my opinions to myself. As long as Noah is not under the impression that I am subsidizing the apartment and cell phone while he play his video games with James and Eric all day, he can have his plans and great ideas. Unencumbered by marriage.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
How I Convinced Lauren to Wear Underwear (By Request)
One of the challenges of keeping a blog about the (mis)adventures of the kids is when we are having a relatively quite period, it does not occur to me to update the blog. To report something like: "The kids are too afraid to pull something after the Minnesota trip and have been reasonably well behaved." is accurate, but not very entertaining. However, at my friends wedding reception last night, which was informal and a wonderful time, it was requested that the story of how I...um..."convinced" Lauren to wear big girl underwear be put in the blog.
Since there has not been much to report, here is the story:
In mid-May, Princess Lauren was well on her way to becoming diaper free. Everything was wonderful, we had some accidents, typical potty training stuff that I am not going elaborate upon. And then it just stopped. She was wearing diapers. That was it. She would cry and scream and lay in her bed and take her underwear off and stay in her bed. She was NOT wearing underwear. It really isn't uncommon for kids to go backward or want the comfort of diapers when potty training, but not to this degree.
So right, wrong, or indifferent, but probably mostly wrong, Rich and I let her go back to diapers, thinking it would only last for a little bit, she would be uncomfortable in them and want her underwear back. MOSTLY WRONG. Lauren wore her diapers until they were so heavy they would just plop off onto the floor and then would try to tape them back on. She would look like a little penguin waddling around with these disgusting things on, but she was afraid to let me change her, less I said the dreaded "should we put your big girl underwear on you?" or "Do you want to go potty on the toilet?"
Finally, I had enough of this. One Sunday night I looked Princess Lauren in eye before she went to bed. This was the conversation:
Me: "Lauren, When you wake up tomorrow morning you are not wearing diapers anymore, you are wearing big girl underwear. Do you understand?"
Lauren: "Yes, mommy."
Me: "Diaper in garbage, underwear on butt."
Monday arrived and Lauren was doing everything in power NOT to give up that diaper. So I did what every good mom would do. I brought out THE BRIBE. I really had no intention of bribing Lauren to take off her diaper until the words were out my mouth, but once the words were out, there was no going back. I simply asked, "Who wants a Popsicle before breakfast?" Which was met with a course of, "I do's! and "Me's!" So I replied that "Whoever is dressed and wearing underwear before the timer goes off gets a Popsicle for breakfast!"
Which worked great for the boys. Lauren really had to think about giving up that diaper. She still was not so sure that a Popsicle was a great trade for a life time of being diaper free, but she did make the trade before the deadline. To date, she has been doing a respectable job with potty training. And as reported in a previous blog, has not only been wearing her underwear, but showing them to entire gas stations.
Also, I would be remiss if I did not point out that while I was trying to bribe Lauren, Noah was questioning me the entire time about my parenting skills with the following questions. "Mom, why are you giving us Popsicles so early in morning? What is a bribe? Do you think it's a good idea to bribe Lauren this way? You don't bribe us like this. Are you sure this is the right thing to do?"
Let me tell you there is nothing like a seven year olds questions giving voice to the misgivings already in your head to bolster your wavering confidence.
I told Noah flat out that I wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do, but if he had any better ideas I was open to suggestions. Otherwise, he had to two choices: Either eat his bribe and be quiet, or go in his room without his bribe and be quiet. Wisely, Noah took choice number one and everyone was happily wearing their underwear and slurping on Popsicles.
Well, Jerry and Jim, I hope you enjoyed your blog request since your other requests are definitely not going to make it into the blog; this blog maintains a rating of PG-13. It used to be G, but I feel my kids choice of language warrants a higher rating.
Since there has not been much to report, here is the story:
In mid-May, Princess Lauren was well on her way to becoming diaper free. Everything was wonderful, we had some accidents, typical potty training stuff that I am not going elaborate upon. And then it just stopped. She was wearing diapers. That was it. She would cry and scream and lay in her bed and take her underwear off and stay in her bed. She was NOT wearing underwear. It really isn't uncommon for kids to go backward or want the comfort of diapers when potty training, but not to this degree.
So right, wrong, or indifferent, but probably mostly wrong, Rich and I let her go back to diapers, thinking it would only last for a little bit, she would be uncomfortable in them and want her underwear back. MOSTLY WRONG. Lauren wore her diapers until they were so heavy they would just plop off onto the floor and then would try to tape them back on. She would look like a little penguin waddling around with these disgusting things on, but she was afraid to let me change her, less I said the dreaded "should we put your big girl underwear on you?" or "Do you want to go potty on the toilet?"
Finally, I had enough of this. One Sunday night I looked Princess Lauren in eye before she went to bed. This was the conversation:
Me: "Lauren, When you wake up tomorrow morning you are not wearing diapers anymore, you are wearing big girl underwear. Do you understand?"
Lauren: "Yes, mommy."
Me: "Diaper in garbage, underwear on butt."
Monday arrived and Lauren was doing everything in power NOT to give up that diaper. So I did what every good mom would do. I brought out THE BRIBE. I really had no intention of bribing Lauren to take off her diaper until the words were out my mouth, but once the words were out, there was no going back. I simply asked, "Who wants a Popsicle before breakfast?" Which was met with a course of, "I do's! and "Me's!" So I replied that "Whoever is dressed and wearing underwear before the timer goes off gets a Popsicle for breakfast!"
Which worked great for the boys. Lauren really had to think about giving up that diaper. She still was not so sure that a Popsicle was a great trade for a life time of being diaper free, but she did make the trade before the deadline. To date, she has been doing a respectable job with potty training. And as reported in a previous blog, has not only been wearing her underwear, but showing them to entire gas stations.
Also, I would be remiss if I did not point out that while I was trying to bribe Lauren, Noah was questioning me the entire time about my parenting skills with the following questions. "Mom, why are you giving us Popsicles so early in morning? What is a bribe? Do you think it's a good idea to bribe Lauren this way? You don't bribe us like this. Are you sure this is the right thing to do?"
Let me tell you there is nothing like a seven year olds questions giving voice to the misgivings already in your head to bolster your wavering confidence.
I told Noah flat out that I wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do, but if he had any better ideas I was open to suggestions. Otherwise, he had to two choices: Either eat his bribe and be quiet, or go in his room without his bribe and be quiet. Wisely, Noah took choice number one and everyone was happily wearing their underwear and slurping on Popsicles.
Well, Jerry and Jim, I hope you enjoyed your blog request since your other requests are definitely not going to make it into the blog; this blog maintains a rating of PG-13. It used to be G, but I feel my kids choice of language warrants a higher rating.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Clarifications & Vacation Bible School
Apparently, given some of the questions I have received and one statement made by my husband, I need to make some clarifications regarding the previous two posts. Here they are:
1. When Jonathon had his little, shall we say outburst, he was referring to Noah's habit of leaving the Game Boy in the minivan, without turning it off, so that the battery (juice) is dead for the next user, who has to find the charger, plug it in, etc. Which, while not life altering, is mighty annoying, having been victim to it myself. However, and as was discussed with Jon, was not a justification for his word choice.
2. When Lauren rolled the bubble gum in her dress, it wasn't already chewed. It was a package of Bubble Tape, which is bubble gum that comes in a circular plastic case. The plastic case where the bubble was contained is what she actually rolled up in her dress. I had just paid for the gum and we were very close to the entrance of the gas station when that little scene took place. Thank Goodness it wasn't already chewed. Trying to get out ABC bubble gum out of her dress while covering up her princess underwear and keeping track of the boys probably would have been the thing that had me permanently committed to the Home for Clinically Insane Mothers.
3. I was informed by Richard, in a very persnickety voice, that the children did NOT show my husband how to use the game feature on his Blackberry, that he had already figured it out before they had showed him, and "Even I know how to play PONG!" The kids told me they showed Daddy how to play his game. In turn, I misrepresented the actual facts in the previous blog. I apologize. To my readers and my husband.
4. Jon and Noah have both learned about God and the Bible. Shockingly, neither have died nor run away from home like promised. I did not explain Bible School before they heard me enrolling them and they had the misconception that it was like real school. They wanted no part of real school any earlier than necessary. Again, not a justification, but just a little insight so I am better prepared for next time.
Vacation Bible School is going better than expected. Everyone really enjoys it. Although, you would never guess by watching Brandon because he keeps trying to run out the front door. However, when I told him he and I were not going to come back on Wednesday, he started crying that he really loves being at Bible School. Would who ever forgot to return the parenting manual "How to Read Your Child's Mind?" to library please do so now? It is way overdue. And I need it. Yesterday.
Lauren is just so much fun to watch sing the songs, make her crafts, and play the games. Each child is experiencing Bible School at different level, but it is so interesting to watch the older children help the younger children. The older girls just love taking Lauren around and helping her with activities.
So far, so good though. No fires or major damage at the church. I am mostly sane and last night was finally able to get Brandon back on a regular sleep schedule after the disruption "vacation" caused. Nine (mostly) solid hours of sleep and the world is good again.
1. When Jonathon had his little, shall we say outburst, he was referring to Noah's habit of leaving the Game Boy in the minivan, without turning it off, so that the battery (juice) is dead for the next user, who has to find the charger, plug it in, etc. Which, while not life altering, is mighty annoying, having been victim to it myself. However, and as was discussed with Jon, was not a justification for his word choice.
2. When Lauren rolled the bubble gum in her dress, it wasn't already chewed. It was a package of Bubble Tape, which is bubble gum that comes in a circular plastic case. The plastic case where the bubble was contained is what she actually rolled up in her dress. I had just paid for the gum and we were very close to the entrance of the gas station when that little scene took place. Thank Goodness it wasn't already chewed. Trying to get out ABC bubble gum out of her dress while covering up her princess underwear and keeping track of the boys probably would have been the thing that had me permanently committed to the Home for Clinically Insane Mothers.
3. I was informed by Richard, in a very persnickety voice, that the children did NOT show my husband how to use the game feature on his Blackberry, that he had already figured it out before they had showed him, and "Even I know how to play PONG!" The kids told me they showed Daddy how to play his game. In turn, I misrepresented the actual facts in the previous blog. I apologize. To my readers and my husband.
4. Jon and Noah have both learned about God and the Bible. Shockingly, neither have died nor run away from home like promised. I did not explain Bible School before they heard me enrolling them and they had the misconception that it was like real school. They wanted no part of real school any earlier than necessary. Again, not a justification, but just a little insight so I am better prepared for next time.
Vacation Bible School is going better than expected. Everyone really enjoys it. Although, you would never guess by watching Brandon because he keeps trying to run out the front door. However, when I told him he and I were not going to come back on Wednesday, he started crying that he really loves being at Bible School. Would who ever forgot to return the parenting manual "How to Read Your Child's Mind?" to library please do so now? It is way overdue. And I need it. Yesterday.
Lauren is just so much fun to watch sing the songs, make her crafts, and play the games. Each child is experiencing Bible School at different level, but it is so interesting to watch the older children help the younger children. The older girls just love taking Lauren around and helping her with activities.
So far, so good though. No fires or major damage at the church. I am mostly sane and last night was finally able to get Brandon back on a regular sleep schedule after the disruption "vacation" caused. Nine (mostly) solid hours of sleep and the world is good again.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
More Updates
The last post was getting rather lengthy, but did not cover all the thing that have been going on here as of late, so here are the rest of the updates.
Friday, I called to enroll the kids in Vacation Bible School. As I was talking to the church coordinator to enroll all four children, Jonathon and Noah were in the background screaming, yes that is the correct adjective, such gems, such as, "You can't make me learn about God!" and "I won't read the Bible!" and "I won't behave at that school!"
Seriously, is there a support group for this kind of thing? Or a punch card? Like after so many embarrassing episodes parents automatically receive a day at a spa? After I hung up the phone, I thought I was going to have to go Bible School so they could perform an exorcism on me because my head was spinning and I was screaming. Not the "f" word my eight year old seemed to like, but more like, "What have I told you about screaming when I am on the phone, etc., blah, blah, blahity, blah, blah."
Princess Lauren celebrated her third birthday yesterday. We had family and friends over to help us commemorate yesterday. In a moment of complete insanity and impulsiveness, I bought a pinata, which was a huge success. Lauren's godparents, Rebecca and Clint, bought her a dress-up trunk, which contains different "princess outfits" that she can mix and match to her hearts content. Lauren loves it. She wanted to sleep in one of her outfits, of course. Personally, I think some of these outfits are a little more "Crackhead Barbie" than "Pretty, Pretty Princess," but then I remember what I wore in the nineties and how I did my hair and realize I have no right to judge.
Jonathon and Brandon will start soccer at the YMCA on Saturday's starting September. Noah will start Flag Football then. Rich & I will be coaching those teams, respectively. Also, Jonathon will be in competitive soccer next year, playing for a Portage County team, traveling and going to tournaments, so we are very excited for him to pursue his passion of soccer at the next level. Noah will be pursuing his love of baseball at the same time, but traveling baseball doesn't start until he is eleven years old, so he has a few more years of games in Stevens Point before his traveling opportunities starts.
As of September 4, Jon starts 3rd grade, Noah 2nd grade, and Brandon will be in 4 year old kindergarten in the afternoons. The boys are very excited for the new school year to start, and as usual I have mixed feelings. I am excited and a little sad that my boys are growing up so quickly. By week three of school I will (mostly) be relieved and happy that I am not their one woman entertainment director anymore. School supplies and clothes are mostly bought. Jon and Noah need tennis shoes, but I am afraid to buy them less they grow three sizes between now and September 4.
Rich is gearing up for the fall sporting season. BWW issued the Regional Managers "Crackberries", or Blackberries as they referred to by polite society, so he is learning how to use all the features. I am sure the kids could figure it for him. They already showed him how to use the game features.
My migraines are much better. I am graduated from physical therapy and feel like I have some of my life back now that I don't have a constant headache. I do not know how people in chronic pain manage on a daily basis. It is draining to go through every day being that uncomfortable.
Well, Vacation Bible School starts tomorrow. I am sure there will be nothing relaxing or vacationing about it, so I will keep you posted.
Friday, I called to enroll the kids in Vacation Bible School. As I was talking to the church coordinator to enroll all four children, Jonathon and Noah were in the background screaming, yes that is the correct adjective, such gems, such as, "You can't make me learn about God!" and "I won't read the Bible!" and "I won't behave at that school!"
Seriously, is there a support group for this kind of thing? Or a punch card? Like after so many embarrassing episodes parents automatically receive a day at a spa? After I hung up the phone, I thought I was going to have to go Bible School so they could perform an exorcism on me because my head was spinning and I was screaming. Not the "f" word my eight year old seemed to like, but more like, "What have I told you about screaming when I am on the phone, etc., blah, blah, blahity, blah, blah."
Princess Lauren celebrated her third birthday yesterday. We had family and friends over to help us commemorate yesterday. In a moment of complete insanity and impulsiveness, I bought a pinata, which was a huge success. Lauren's godparents, Rebecca and Clint, bought her a dress-up trunk, which contains different "princess outfits" that she can mix and match to her hearts content. Lauren loves it. She wanted to sleep in one of her outfits, of course. Personally, I think some of these outfits are a little more "Crackhead Barbie" than "Pretty, Pretty Princess," but then I remember what I wore in the nineties and how I did my hair and realize I have no right to judge.
Jonathon and Brandon will start soccer at the YMCA on Saturday's starting September. Noah will start Flag Football then. Rich & I will be coaching those teams, respectively. Also, Jonathon will be in competitive soccer next year, playing for a Portage County team, traveling and going to tournaments, so we are very excited for him to pursue his passion of soccer at the next level. Noah will be pursuing his love of baseball at the same time, but traveling baseball doesn't start until he is eleven years old, so he has a few more years of games in Stevens Point before his traveling opportunities starts.
As of September 4, Jon starts 3rd grade, Noah 2nd grade, and Brandon will be in 4 year old kindergarten in the afternoons. The boys are very excited for the new school year to start, and as usual I have mixed feelings. I am excited and a little sad that my boys are growing up so quickly. By week three of school I will (mostly) be relieved and happy that I am not their one woman entertainment director anymore. School supplies and clothes are mostly bought. Jon and Noah need tennis shoes, but I am afraid to buy them less they grow three sizes between now and September 4.
Rich is gearing up for the fall sporting season. BWW issued the Regional Managers "Crackberries", or Blackberries as they referred to by polite society, so he is learning how to use all the features. I am sure the kids could figure it for him. They already showed him how to use the game features.
My migraines are much better. I am graduated from physical therapy and feel like I have some of my life back now that I don't have a constant headache. I do not know how people in chronic pain manage on a daily basis. It is draining to go through every day being that uncomfortable.
Well, Vacation Bible School starts tomorrow. I am sure there will be nothing relaxing or vacationing about it, so I will keep you posted.
Kids will be Kids (And Drive Their Mother Crazy
It has not been for a lack of stories that has caused me to be so remiss in my blog posting duties; rather a lack of sleep. The kids and I have been in Minnesota visiting Aunt Trish, wreaking havoc there, although I would like to state, for the record, we were in Wisconsin when the bridge collapsed. Brandon was no where near it and in no way responsible. (I can tell you who I think was, but that involves politics and words not suited to this family-friendly blog. I can also tell that my heart and prayers go out to the people impacted by that horrific incident. )
Lauren is pretty much over her fear of animals. Trish and Uncle Mark have a cat named Fidget, nicknamed Fidgey-butt or Fidgey, with whom Lauren is absolutely enthralled. She pet Fidgey, followed her, talked to her, laid on her belly next to, and even went as far as to cover up Fidgey with her (Lauren's) favorite pink blanket. It was funny and adorable.
Trish needed to get somethings ready for shipping, so she brought a box upstairs. Well, it was hard to say who made it to the box first, the cat or Lauren, or who had a better time playing in it. At one point, the two of them were in the box together. At another, Fidgey was in the box, but Lauren had put her blanket over the top of the box and was playing "Peek-a-boo" with her. Lauren would say, "Where's Fidgey-butt?" then lift up the blanket and yell, "Peek-a-boo!" The cat didn't seem to mind, so all was well.
On the same trip my eight year old decided to see if knew how to use the "F" word in proper context. Let me assure you that he absolutely does. He will never, ever have a problem using that word if the need should arise. Thankfully, we were not in public, not that it makes it better, but I have about all I can take of kids pushing my buttons in public this week as latter parts of the blog will reveal, so I considered it a small mercy that I didn't have an audience for this particular scene.
So, we are at Trish's house, I am on way downstairs to get something, and Jonathon asks me, "Mom, where is the GameBoy?" just a calm, nothing out of the ordinary kind of question. I respond, in a normal, ordinary, kind of mom way, "The last place I remember seeing it is in the mini van, next to Noah's booster seat." Jonathon's replies with, "Oh, that's great. He probably left it on and sucked all the f***** juice out of it." My jaw hit the ground. His jaw hit the ground. AND he immediately responded with, "What, you and Dad say that word sometimes when you are driving!" To which I immediately responded with (inside my head) "And my husband wonders why I have migraines?" but what I said is, "Jonathon, Dad and I do not use that word all the time when we drive. We have talked about how nasty and inappropriate that word is. Blah....Blah....Blah....Blah...."
This kid made it sound like every time Rich and I get behind the wheel every other word is a swear word. I dealt with it accordingly, but what I really want to know is how long Jon has been dying to try that word out. I know that is what most of that little episode was about. Jonathon hears curse words on TV, and yes, from Rich and I occasionally, but never feels a need to use to them. Although, he was told opportunity would taste like soap and feel like grounded from video games for two weeks if ever used that word again.
Brandon didn't do anything really "cute" or funny this trip unless you consider that every time we tried to take him to a public place he threw some kind of a fit. He didn't want to eat. He didn't want to do whatever we were doing first, first. He wanted me to buy him a $200.00 Lego kit that was designed for kids ages 10 and up and told me I was a mean mom when I said absolutely not. He told me it wasn't fair that he had to eat his hamburger before I let him get chocolate ice cream with Nerds candy at Culvers. He almost took out seven different people with a toy sword at the Mall of America, so I took the sword away and would not let him have it back. Brandon is such a bright child. He takes such pride in being able to help Lauren, count to 15 by himself (higher with help), and has an amazing imagination. I think when he says he doesn't like people, there really is some truth to that. I really believe that when Brandon said he does not like people, he meant it. He does not get that trait from his mother.
And the Award for best acting goes to....Mr. Noah Tolbert...for his portrayal of an Abused, Underfed Child at the St. Paul Children's Museum Gift Shop in front of other parents and grandparents. In a truly inspired moment, only an hour after eating a full lunch at Subway, complete with sandwich, apples, chips, and two sodas, Noah grabbed his mother around the neck in the middle of the gift shop with tears in his eyes, saying loudly, "PLEASE, PLEASE, Mommy, LET me get something to EAT. I am just SO HUNGRY. I just can't stand it. I can't even think. I am soooo HUNGRY. PLEASE Mommy. Please let me get these fruit snacks."
At first I was strong. I was NOT getting the fruit snacks. We were on our way home for one thing. For another, all the kids had just eaten a full lunch an hour ago or a little less. Even if Noah had metabolized his food at the speed of light, he was not in any danger of malnutrition or dehydration. But the looks. From the other adults in the shop. Trish offered to buy him Cheez Its and I refused because I was so mad. Not at Trish at Noah. I mean there was absolutely no reason that he could not have waited. But he standing there, tears in his eyes, and every grown up in the shop is looking at me in horror, frozen, some with their hands in their wallets, reaching for snacks, counting how many kids I have, probably getting ready to buy my poor children some fruit snacks, so I caved. I still get mad thinking about it.....Noah's drama and me caving.
Since I began with a Lauren story, I will end a Lauren story. On the way home we stopped at a gas station to stretch our legs and take a bathroom break. Now, Ken York, and some you other hard core travelers, take a deep breath a remember I am traveling with four children under the age of nine, one of which is a little girl who is still working on potty training. We have to be conditioned to travel like you seasoned veterans, so we still take bathroom breaks.
All the kids were allowed to pick out one treat (but not fruit snacks). Lauren choose bubble gum. After I paid for it, she proceeded to put it in the bottom of her dress and roll it up past her belly button, of course in the middle of the gas station, giving everyone there a nice view of her underwear. I said, as I am rolling down her dress, "Lauren, Honey, no, no, sweetie, we don't wrap our bubble gum up in our dresses. No one wants to see your underwear." Lauren put her hands on her hips, bubble gum secure in one hand. She raised her chin in the air. She looked me in the eyes. And in her loftiest voice told me: "But Mommy, they're my princess underwear."
Lauren is pretty much over her fear of animals. Trish and Uncle Mark have a cat named Fidget, nicknamed Fidgey-butt or Fidgey, with whom Lauren is absolutely enthralled. She pet Fidgey, followed her, talked to her, laid on her belly next to, and even went as far as to cover up Fidgey with her (Lauren's) favorite pink blanket. It was funny and adorable.
Trish needed to get somethings ready for shipping, so she brought a box upstairs. Well, it was hard to say who made it to the box first, the cat or Lauren, or who had a better time playing in it. At one point, the two of them were in the box together. At another, Fidgey was in the box, but Lauren had put her blanket over the top of the box and was playing "Peek-a-boo" with her. Lauren would say, "Where's Fidgey-butt?" then lift up the blanket and yell, "Peek-a-boo!" The cat didn't seem to mind, so all was well.
On the same trip my eight year old decided to see if knew how to use the "F" word in proper context. Let me assure you that he absolutely does. He will never, ever have a problem using that word if the need should arise. Thankfully, we were not in public, not that it makes it better, but I have about all I can take of kids pushing my buttons in public this week as latter parts of the blog will reveal, so I considered it a small mercy that I didn't have an audience for this particular scene.
So, we are at Trish's house, I am on way downstairs to get something, and Jonathon asks me, "Mom, where is the GameBoy?" just a calm, nothing out of the ordinary kind of question. I respond, in a normal, ordinary, kind of mom way, "The last place I remember seeing it is in the mini van, next to Noah's booster seat." Jonathon's replies with, "Oh, that's great. He probably left it on and sucked all the f***** juice out of it." My jaw hit the ground. His jaw hit the ground. AND he immediately responded with, "What, you and Dad say that word sometimes when you are driving!" To which I immediately responded with (inside my head) "And my husband wonders why I have migraines?" but what I said is, "Jonathon, Dad and I do not use that word all the time when we drive. We have talked about how nasty and inappropriate that word is. Blah....Blah....Blah....Blah...."
This kid made it sound like every time Rich and I get behind the wheel every other word is a swear word. I dealt with it accordingly, but what I really want to know is how long Jon has been dying to try that word out. I know that is what most of that little episode was about. Jonathon hears curse words on TV, and yes, from Rich and I occasionally, but never feels a need to use to them. Although, he was told opportunity would taste like soap and feel like grounded from video games for two weeks if ever used that word again.
Brandon didn't do anything really "cute" or funny this trip unless you consider that every time we tried to take him to a public place he threw some kind of a fit. He didn't want to eat. He didn't want to do whatever we were doing first, first. He wanted me to buy him a $200.00 Lego kit that was designed for kids ages 10 and up and told me I was a mean mom when I said absolutely not. He told me it wasn't fair that he had to eat his hamburger before I let him get chocolate ice cream with Nerds candy at Culvers. He almost took out seven different people with a toy sword at the Mall of America, so I took the sword away and would not let him have it back. Brandon is such a bright child. He takes such pride in being able to help Lauren, count to 15 by himself (higher with help), and has an amazing imagination. I think when he says he doesn't like people, there really is some truth to that. I really believe that when Brandon said he does not like people, he meant it. He does not get that trait from his mother.
And the Award for best acting goes to....Mr. Noah Tolbert...for his portrayal of an Abused, Underfed Child at the St. Paul Children's Museum Gift Shop in front of other parents and grandparents. In a truly inspired moment, only an hour after eating a full lunch at Subway, complete with sandwich, apples, chips, and two sodas, Noah grabbed his mother around the neck in the middle of the gift shop with tears in his eyes, saying loudly, "PLEASE, PLEASE, Mommy, LET me get something to EAT. I am just SO HUNGRY. I just can't stand it. I can't even think. I am soooo HUNGRY. PLEASE Mommy. Please let me get these fruit snacks."
At first I was strong. I was NOT getting the fruit snacks. We were on our way home for one thing. For another, all the kids had just eaten a full lunch an hour ago or a little less. Even if Noah had metabolized his food at the speed of light, he was not in any danger of malnutrition or dehydration. But the looks. From the other adults in the shop. Trish offered to buy him Cheez Its and I refused because I was so mad. Not at Trish at Noah. I mean there was absolutely no reason that he could not have waited. But he standing there, tears in his eyes, and every grown up in the shop is looking at me in horror, frozen, some with their hands in their wallets, reaching for snacks, counting how many kids I have, probably getting ready to buy my poor children some fruit snacks, so I caved. I still get mad thinking about it.....Noah's drama and me caving.
Since I began with a Lauren story, I will end a Lauren story. On the way home we stopped at a gas station to stretch our legs and take a bathroom break. Now, Ken York, and some you other hard core travelers, take a deep breath a remember I am traveling with four children under the age of nine, one of which is a little girl who is still working on potty training. We have to be conditioned to travel like you seasoned veterans, so we still take bathroom breaks.
All the kids were allowed to pick out one treat (but not fruit snacks). Lauren choose bubble gum. After I paid for it, she proceeded to put it in the bottom of her dress and roll it up past her belly button, of course in the middle of the gas station, giving everyone there a nice view of her underwear. I said, as I am rolling down her dress, "Lauren, Honey, no, no, sweetie, we don't wrap our bubble gum up in our dresses. No one wants to see your underwear." Lauren put her hands on her hips, bubble gum secure in one hand. She raised her chin in the air. She looked me in the eyes. And in her loftiest voice told me: "But Mommy, they're my princess underwear."
Monday, July 30, 2007
School Supplies
Well, 12 bottles of glue, 8 packages of markers, and 20 boxes of crayons later, school supply shopping is mostly finished. School doesn't start until September 4, in Stevens Point, but I learned my lesson the hard way when Jonathon started kindergarten.
When Jon started school, I waited until the middle of August, three weeks before school started, which seemed like a reasonable amount of time. Rich and I strapped our boys and our two week old baby in the mini van, and headed to school supply section of Wal-Mart, like all naive parents sending their oldest child are wont to do, and arrived, fresh faced at the school supply aisle. Our mistake.
AFTER surveying the decimated, picked-over school supply section, that Wal-mart was not going to restock (I heard the employees thank God they didn't have to restock it anymore) and AFTER parking the shopping cart within a few miles of aforementioned aisle and AFTER checking Jon, Noah, and Brandon for knife marks after they made the mistake of getting to close to a bunch of kids trying to pick out their "take home folders,"
and AFTER almost getting in a fight myself after I politely asked a lady if I could get around her cart (that she had parked in the middle of the aisle) so I could get some markers and AFTER listening to another woman tell her two year old "I ain't buyin' you no stupid box of colors..it's bad enough I gots to git 'em for yer sisters." (I am sure she applied her 20 cent savings to her cigarettes)...and AFTER filling a ridiculous school supply list for a kindergartner to go to public school, I told Rich, "I am NEVER repeating this experience again!"
But I didn't say, "I am NEVER repeating this experience again!" in a calm, organized, wow, that was terrible, but I survived, tone of voice. No, the tone of voice held the implication that Rich knew it was going to be like this, that he probably arranged for these women to be here, on this miserable day in August, just to mess with this sleep deprived, just had my fourth baby two weeks ago, whose oldest is starting school in three weeks, mother, so he could have a good laugh at her expense. (Because, apparently living with me and the kids wasn't misery enough at the time...he had to pay for more.)
Anyway, all he said, in his calm, Richard, way, was, "I don't blame you. I don't want to repeat this fiasco either. " So, even though he looks at the pile by the wall, shaking his head and chuckling because we have school supplies one month in advance, I am much calmer that the kids have their colors* for the new school year and no one was knifed in the process.
************************************************************************************
*colors is the Wisconsin word for Crayons. I only used colors in the last sentence to tork Rich because it drives him crazy to hear people say "colors" instead of "crayons." I use the words interchangeably when I am talking, but the above quote "...stupid colors.." the woman is talking about buying a box of 24 count crayons.
When Jon started school, I waited until the middle of August, three weeks before school started, which seemed like a reasonable amount of time. Rich and I strapped our boys and our two week old baby in the mini van, and headed to school supply section of Wal-Mart, like all naive parents sending their oldest child are wont to do, and arrived, fresh faced at the school supply aisle. Our mistake.
AFTER surveying the decimated, picked-over school supply section, that Wal-mart was not going to restock (I heard the employees thank God they didn't have to restock it anymore) and AFTER parking the shopping cart within a few miles of aforementioned aisle and AFTER checking Jon, Noah, and Brandon for knife marks after they made the mistake of getting to close to a bunch of kids trying to pick out their "take home folders,"
and AFTER almost getting in a fight myself after I politely asked a lady if I could get around her cart (that she had parked in the middle of the aisle) so I could get some markers and AFTER listening to another woman tell her two year old "I ain't buyin' you no stupid box of colors..it's bad enough I gots to git 'em for yer sisters." (I am sure she applied her 20 cent savings to her cigarettes)...and AFTER filling a ridiculous school supply list for a kindergartner to go to public school, I told Rich, "I am NEVER repeating this experience again!"
But I didn't say, "I am NEVER repeating this experience again!" in a calm, organized, wow, that was terrible, but I survived, tone of voice. No, the tone of voice held the implication that Rich knew it was going to be like this, that he probably arranged for these women to be here, on this miserable day in August, just to mess with this sleep deprived, just had my fourth baby two weeks ago, whose oldest is starting school in three weeks, mother, so he could have a good laugh at her expense. (Because, apparently living with me and the kids wasn't misery enough at the time...he had to pay for more.)
Anyway, all he said, in his calm, Richard, way, was, "I don't blame you. I don't want to repeat this fiasco either. " So, even though he looks at the pile by the wall, shaking his head and chuckling because we have school supplies one month in advance, I am much calmer that the kids have their colors* for the new school year and no one was knifed in the process.
************************************************************************************
*colors is the Wisconsin word for Crayons. I only used colors in the last sentence to tork Rich because it drives him crazy to hear people say "colors" instead of "crayons." I use the words interchangeably when I am talking, but the above quote "...stupid colors.." the woman is talking about buying a box of 24 count crayons.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
(Unwillingly) Giving Up Caffeine
Last week, as part of my migraine management, I had to give up caffeinated drinks. Cold Turkey. No warning. No farewell Diet Pepsi. Just out of the doctors office and off the caffeine.
Monday was great. I thought, okay, I am tired from the Toby Keith concert and sleeping in a hotel, I can recover without a kick from Starbucks. Big deal.
Tuesday morning, no coffee, no problem. I seldom had coffee in college and managed just fine on less sleep. Tuesday, by 2:00pm, with no Diet Pepsi to ease the dull ache of screaming children in the back of my head, while simultaneously providing the sweet, sugary rush of caffeine in my blood, I realized I was just lying to myself and if I didn't get caffeine or drugs, bad things were going to happen. Probably to Rich because he was the most convenient and easiest target. (Apparently, he knew this and was avoiding me for this very reason. Chicken.)
Let's not talk about Wednesday and Thursday. Satan wasn't even willing to make a deal with me those two days. He took one look at me and said, "Lady, not even your eternal soul for all the Starbucks and Diet Pepsi in the world."
Friday, I would have traded Lauren for a can Diet Pepsi. One can. No doubt, the consequences would have been ugly after I drank the forbidden nectar, the regret kicked in, and I had to explain my actions to Rich, but ooohhhh....the temptation.
Saturday, I had tears in my eyes when my friend poured her mom, her stepmom, and her self cups of regular coffee and they all drank them in front of me. And later that same day, I arrived to the very sad conclusion, that no matter how much I ate, it wasn't going to transform into caffeine.
Fortunately for me, but not as funny for you, Sunday I was fine. No cravings.
I do want to point out that I did this while I was on medication to manage headaches, which made a potentially crippling situation a little less so, but not less stressful. Seriously, going off caffeine without a plan can have some very serious medical side effects, none for which I want to be responsible, so if you are even (shudder) considering (think very long and hard) about giving up caffeine (stop and think some more) please make sure you talk to your medical provider.
Hey, I don't want to be the one responsible for making deals with the devil or trading your kids for a can of Diet Pepsi.
Monday was great. I thought, okay, I am tired from the Toby Keith concert and sleeping in a hotel, I can recover without a kick from Starbucks. Big deal.
Tuesday morning, no coffee, no problem. I seldom had coffee in college and managed just fine on less sleep. Tuesday, by 2:00pm, with no Diet Pepsi to ease the dull ache of screaming children in the back of my head, while simultaneously providing the sweet, sugary rush of caffeine in my blood, I realized I was just lying to myself and if I didn't get caffeine or drugs, bad things were going to happen. Probably to Rich because he was the most convenient and easiest target. (Apparently, he knew this and was avoiding me for this very reason. Chicken.)
Let's not talk about Wednesday and Thursday. Satan wasn't even willing to make a deal with me those two days. He took one look at me and said, "Lady, not even your eternal soul for all the Starbucks and Diet Pepsi in the world."
Friday, I would have traded Lauren for a can Diet Pepsi. One can. No doubt, the consequences would have been ugly after I drank the forbidden nectar, the regret kicked in, and I had to explain my actions to Rich, but ooohhhh....the temptation.
Saturday, I had tears in my eyes when my friend poured her mom, her stepmom, and her self cups of regular coffee and they all drank them in front of me. And later that same day, I arrived to the very sad conclusion, that no matter how much I ate, it wasn't going to transform into caffeine.
Fortunately for me, but not as funny for you, Sunday I was fine. No cravings.
I do want to point out that I did this while I was on medication to manage headaches, which made a potentially crippling situation a little less so, but not less stressful. Seriously, going off caffeine without a plan can have some very serious medical side effects, none for which I want to be responsible, so if you are even (shudder) considering (think very long and hard) about giving up caffeine (stop and think some more) please make sure you talk to your medical provider.
Hey, I don't want to be the one responsible for making deals with the devil or trading your kids for a can of Diet Pepsi.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
I didn't realize it has been so long since the last post. I assure you, it is not from a lack of things to report, but a lack of time in which to report them. After a week of non-stop action, today the kids and I are sitting are sitting around doing nothing. I am writing this blog so I can keep procrastinating the start of cleaning up the house. I don't have one theme or story to tell this time, so below you will just find random transcripts/stories from my life spanning the past ten days.
The evening of July 1, Rich and I took our children to see the fireworks at Pfiffner Park in Stevens Point. Darkness descends, the fireworks are starting, the kids are impressed, and some persons car alarm goes off every time the fireworks sound. Noah thought this was the most hilarious thing ever. By the third time it happened, I was ready to throw a rock through the car window so the alarm had a reason to go off. By the fifth time, Rich and I were exchanging annoyed looks, but Noah was laughing so hard almost had tears coming out of his eyes. I said, "Noah, why is this funny?" He said, "I don't Mom, I just can't stop laughing about it." We started laughing because Noah's laugh was so infectious. Even the people around us were chuckling after awhile. Noah definitely made an extremely annoying situation much better.
This quick to laughter child is the same child however, on the following Friday, after I came home from the Bon Jovi concert, told me, with tears streaming down his face, that, "Mom, while you were gone, Daddy made us eat leftovers!" I barely held a straight face. I very solemnly replied: "Yes, Noah, I understand. My daddy used to make me eat leftovers, too!" "Poor Noah" had to endure leftovers from our July 4th cookout. I don't know how he has survived living here this long.
The kids also spent two days with my Mom and Dad this past weekend so that Rich and I could attend the Toby Keith concert at Summerfest. (The concert was fantastic, the ninety five degree heat and humidity not so great.) I called to see how everything was going and Jon said, things are great, the beach was fun, and then asked if I would buy him a pack of Pokemon cards because he didn't get to see me for two days. Do these kids get a manual on how to compile guilt? Wow. That one caught me out of left field, too, but I was on the phone, so I didn't need time to compose myself before I said, "NO!"
The evening of July 1, Rich and I took our children to see the fireworks at Pfiffner Park in Stevens Point. Darkness descends, the fireworks are starting, the kids are impressed, and some persons car alarm goes off every time the fireworks sound. Noah thought this was the most hilarious thing ever. By the third time it happened, I was ready to throw a rock through the car window so the alarm had a reason to go off. By the fifth time, Rich and I were exchanging annoyed looks, but Noah was laughing so hard almost had tears coming out of his eyes. I said, "Noah, why is this funny?" He said, "I don't Mom, I just can't stop laughing about it." We started laughing because Noah's laugh was so infectious. Even the people around us were chuckling after awhile. Noah definitely made an extremely annoying situation much better.
This quick to laughter child is the same child however, on the following Friday, after I came home from the Bon Jovi concert, told me, with tears streaming down his face, that, "Mom, while you were gone, Daddy made us eat leftovers!" I barely held a straight face. I very solemnly replied: "Yes, Noah, I understand. My daddy used to make me eat leftovers, too!" "Poor Noah" had to endure leftovers from our July 4th cookout. I don't know how he has survived living here this long.
The kids also spent two days with my Mom and Dad this past weekend so that Rich and I could attend the Toby Keith concert at Summerfest. (The concert was fantastic, the ninety five degree heat and humidity not so great.) I called to see how everything was going and Jon said, things are great, the beach was fun, and then asked if I would buy him a pack of Pokemon cards because he didn't get to see me for two days. Do these kids get a manual on how to compile guilt? Wow. That one caught me out of left field, too, but I was on the phone, so I didn't need time to compose myself before I said, "NO!"
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Brandon the Soccer Coach
I realize that in the previous blogs, I have not mentioned son number 3, Brandon, very much. It's not because he doesn't do anything cute or profound. He has his moments just like the other three. The challenge is Brandon always seems to be having a moment, good or bad, and it is somewhat exhausting living through those moments, let alone having the energy to retell the tales.
Case in point; tonight at Jon's soccer game. Through a confluence (thank being married to a Pittsburgher and Al Micheals for use of that word) of circumstances, coincidentally named: "Rich-is-out-of-town-and-God-likes-to-see-how-much-Amie-can-handle-before-she-snaps", I had to take all four children to the soccer game tonight. And as you know, I am the coach. Which created some stress. Especially when Brandon wouldn't stay by the parent who very generously offered to watch my children so I could coach.
So, here is the scene. The temperature is 93 degrees Fahrenheit. My team already wants to quit and go home because they are sweaty and the game hasn't even started. The game finally starts. I am containing my inner Mike Ditka and trying to coach the team (see previous blog for how well that is going). Noah is sitting on the sidelines, looking up from his DS Lite, and repeating every order I give at the top of his lungs. Lauren is on the sidelines, pretending to be Rex puppy (see very first blog) every time I come over for a water break. Every time I go back onto the field after getting a drink, she starts whimpering, yes, whimpering, and crawling around, in circles, on all fours.
And Brandon, sweet Brandon, is standing right next to me on the field. At one point, I was carrying him on my hip and giving commands. At another, he was pulling on my shirt, saying, "What can I yell next?" The final horn blows, five minute early, thank goodness, because even God knew I had about all I could possibly take for the night. Mercifully, the other coach agreed the game was over. Brandon "helped" coach, so I made him stand in line for the handshaking at the end of the game. As we are standing in line, waiting our turn, this child, born of his father and I, but mostly like his father in personality and temperament, says to me: "Mom, don't ever make me coach again! It's way too much running!"
I started laughing; I didn't know what else to say or do. After I regained some control, I said, "Well, remember that next time you want to be on the field with me." How do parents stay sane through these moments? How do I stay sane at all? Especially since, in a case like Brandon, these are not uncommon moments. Given some time and tequila, and some more time, I know I will come to cherish, or at the very least, provide cheap entertainment at parties with these stories, but until then, I think I will keep scheduling those "Girls Night Outs." with the other soccer moms.
Lesson learned: "Only coach soccer if you like to run." or "If you coach soccer, you will run." or "Do not coach soccer if you want to keep your sanity." Oh, wait, that last one should read: "Do not let your four year old be your assistant coach if you want to stay sane."
Case in point; tonight at Jon's soccer game. Through a confluence (thank being married to a Pittsburgher and Al Micheals for use of that word) of circumstances, coincidentally named: "Rich-is-out-of-town-and-God-likes-to-see-how-much-Amie-can-handle-before-she-snaps", I had to take all four children to the soccer game tonight. And as you know, I am the coach. Which created some stress. Especially when Brandon wouldn't stay by the parent who very generously offered to watch my children so I could coach.
So, here is the scene. The temperature is 93 degrees Fahrenheit. My team already wants to quit and go home because they are sweaty and the game hasn't even started. The game finally starts. I am containing my inner Mike Ditka and trying to coach the team (see previous blog for how well that is going). Noah is sitting on the sidelines, looking up from his DS Lite, and repeating every order I give at the top of his lungs. Lauren is on the sidelines, pretending to be Rex puppy (see very first blog) every time I come over for a water break. Every time I go back onto the field after getting a drink, she starts whimpering, yes, whimpering, and crawling around, in circles, on all fours.
And Brandon, sweet Brandon, is standing right next to me on the field. At one point, I was carrying him on my hip and giving commands. At another, he was pulling on my shirt, saying, "What can I yell next?" The final horn blows, five minute early, thank goodness, because even God knew I had about all I could possibly take for the night. Mercifully, the other coach agreed the game was over. Brandon "helped" coach, so I made him stand in line for the handshaking at the end of the game. As we are standing in line, waiting our turn, this child, born of his father and I, but mostly like his father in personality and temperament, says to me: "Mom, don't ever make me coach again! It's way too much running!"
I started laughing; I didn't know what else to say or do. After I regained some control, I said, "Well, remember that next time you want to be on the field with me." How do parents stay sane through these moments? How do I stay sane at all? Especially since, in a case like Brandon, these are not uncommon moments. Given some time and tequila, and some more time, I know I will come to cherish, or at the very least, provide cheap entertainment at parties with these stories, but until then, I think I will keep scheduling those "Girls Night Outs." with the other soccer moms.
Lesson learned: "Only coach soccer if you like to run." or "If you coach soccer, you will run." or "Do not coach soccer if you want to keep your sanity." Oh, wait, that last one should read: "Do not let your four year old be your assistant coach if you want to stay sane."
Friday, June 22, 2007
Coaching Soccer
Recently, I have discovered an ugly-but-true fact about myself: If I was a professional sports coach, I would be Mike Ditka. I would be the coach from the movie, "The Program" saying, "Are you hurt or injured?...Hurt you can still play...Injured means you can't play."* Which is a great attitude for professional sports coaches who are dealing with million dollar egos, but needs to be trampled down when coaching eight year olds at the co-ed, recreational we-just-play-to-learn-and-have-fun soccer level.
I thought I would be one of those "just let the kids play" coaches. I am not. Not even close. In fact, I am the coach yelling (yes yelling, but in the most supportive, nurturing way possible) at my kids to get the down the field, hustle, and get in the front of the ball.
I holler such gems of wisdom like, "If you can touch your teammate, you are standing too close!" Fifty years from now, when I have Alzheimer's, the only thing I will remember is coaching soccer, and will start yelling, "SPREAD OUT! ORANGE TEAM..SPREAD OUT!" at random moments at the nursing home staff. (The upside to these little outburst is that I will get tranquilized pretty darn quick.)
I want to win. Badly. I was horrified to realize that when Jonathon had a groin pull on Tuesday, if this been a big game, or one where money was involved, I would have been the coach holding his leg while the trainer gave him a cortisone shot. In my defense, Jon said: "Mom, I can hold the pain in for this game. Really, I don't mind." Fortunately, I have not completely lost my entire grip on reality, so he sat on the sidelines and cheered his team on to victory.
So, here is the ugly truth: Like most human beings, I want to win, all the time, no matter what. But, as I am teaching my eight year old team, if you play sports, you must accept victory as graciously as defeat. So, we learn from our mistakes. We work on getting in front of the ball and passing to our teammates. We learn to trust that our lesser skilled teammates will come through on the big plays. We learn that when we work together, pass the ball, and work as a team, more often than not we score a goal.
And I, the coach, learn to suppress my inner rub-some-dirt-in-it-Mike Ditka, so our future Beckman's have a place to learn to love the game of soccer.
(*This is a paraphrase of the actual quote, but I think you get the idea. Also, since "The Program" is the title of movie, it should be in italics or underlined, but apparently, while I can coach soccer, I cannot get either font to work, so it's in quotes. This shortcoming makes the English Major in me a little sick and sad. However, it has been overruled by the Mom part of me who is tired and going to bed.)
I thought I would be one of those "just let the kids play" coaches. I am not. Not even close. In fact, I am the coach yelling (yes yelling, but in the most supportive, nurturing way possible) at my kids to get the down the field, hustle, and get in the front of the ball.
I holler such gems of wisdom like, "If you can touch your teammate, you are standing too close!" Fifty years from now, when I have Alzheimer's, the only thing I will remember is coaching soccer, and will start yelling, "SPREAD OUT! ORANGE TEAM..SPREAD OUT!" at random moments at the nursing home staff. (The upside to these little outburst is that I will get tranquilized pretty darn quick.)
I want to win. Badly. I was horrified to realize that when Jonathon had a groin pull on Tuesday, if this been a big game, or one where money was involved, I would have been the coach holding his leg while the trainer gave him a cortisone shot. In my defense, Jon said: "Mom, I can hold the pain in for this game. Really, I don't mind." Fortunately, I have not completely lost my entire grip on reality, so he sat on the sidelines and cheered his team on to victory.
So, here is the ugly truth: Like most human beings, I want to win, all the time, no matter what. But, as I am teaching my eight year old team, if you play sports, you must accept victory as graciously as defeat. So, we learn from our mistakes. We work on getting in front of the ball and passing to our teammates. We learn to trust that our lesser skilled teammates will come through on the big plays. We learn that when we work together, pass the ball, and work as a team, more often than not we score a goal.
And I, the coach, learn to suppress my inner rub-some-dirt-in-it-Mike Ditka, so our future Beckman's have a place to learn to love the game of soccer.
(*This is a paraphrase of the actual quote, but I think you get the idea. Also, since "The Program" is the title of movie, it should be in italics or underlined, but apparently, while I can coach soccer, I cannot get either font to work, so it's in quotes. This shortcoming makes the English Major in me a little sick and sad. However, it has been overruled by the Mom part of me who is tired and going to bed.)
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Monoply Madness
Last summer I sent Noah and Jonathon to summer school. Jon attended for extra help with reading and spelling, while Noah attended because Jonathon was going to school. So the first Friday of the first week, Jonathon arrived home in tears because he wasn't able to go on the field trip like all his other friends. The field trip was to the local grocery store. I was flabbergasted that the academic summer school program was so rigid that they couldn't even figure out how to incorporate reading and spelling on a field trip to the grocery store. I told Jonathon I felt said that he missed out on the trip and made a point of taking only him on my next trip to the grocery store. Noah became disgruntled with summer school after his new friend Tia changed her mind about marrying him.
The reason I am telling you this is so you understand why I absolutely refused to put Jonathon in academic summer school this year. I could not, would not, allow him to get on the bus every morning and feel like only "smart" kids get to go on field trips. He has made amazing progress in school this year, thanks to hard work from his parents, teachers, and vision therapists, and I decided the kid could use a break. As we all know, a break for the kids does not mean a break for the parents. I figured I would reinforce Math, Reading, and Spelling at home this summer, just spending an hour or less reviewing what Jon and Noah already know, nothing stressful for anyone involved.
Well, as I was getting ready to bring out a math game, Jon and Noah set up Monopoly. Those two future tycoons amaze me. They counted out their own money (fairly), made proper change, bought, sold, and traded properties, and in general played with minimum refereeing. It was stunning. Talk about flabbergasted. My math game sucked in comparison. Now, I have to go back to the "mommy bag-o-tricks" and find something more challenging for the two of them. How do you compete with Monopoly?
Today, they had to write about their favorite Pokemon. Jonathon retrieved his Pokemon binder so he could his facts correct about evolution and type. It took them less than twenty five minutes to write their four sentences. Again, while I enjoy the fact my children are smart, I am terrified I only have two more years before I am not longer able to keep up with their homework.
So, summer is off to a great start. No major injuries, no summer school, and as usual, the kids one step ahead of me.
The reason I am telling you this is so you understand why I absolutely refused to put Jonathon in academic summer school this year. I could not, would not, allow him to get on the bus every morning and feel like only "smart" kids get to go on field trips. He has made amazing progress in school this year, thanks to hard work from his parents, teachers, and vision therapists, and I decided the kid could use a break. As we all know, a break for the kids does not mean a break for the parents. I figured I would reinforce Math, Reading, and Spelling at home this summer, just spending an hour or less reviewing what Jon and Noah already know, nothing stressful for anyone involved.
Well, as I was getting ready to bring out a math game, Jon and Noah set up Monopoly. Those two future tycoons amaze me. They counted out their own money (fairly), made proper change, bought, sold, and traded properties, and in general played with minimum refereeing. It was stunning. Talk about flabbergasted. My math game sucked in comparison. Now, I have to go back to the "mommy bag-o-tricks" and find something more challenging for the two of them. How do you compete with Monopoly?
Today, they had to write about their favorite Pokemon. Jonathon retrieved his Pokemon binder so he could his facts correct about evolution and type. It took them less than twenty five minutes to write their four sentences. Again, while I enjoy the fact my children are smart, I am terrified I only have two more years before I am not longer able to keep up with their homework.
So, summer is off to a great start. No major injuries, no summer school, and as usual, the kids one step ahead of me.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Starting Summer
Last night, against my better judgement, I set up Noah's Slip-n-Slide. I am so happy I told my better judgement to shut up. The kids and I had so much fun. It was hilarious watching the boys trying to figure out how to slide on their bellies and get some distance. Again, ignoring my better judgement and my back, I couldn't resist anymore and had to show them how it was done. Thank Goodness the kids are young; they are still easy to impress. I felt so blessed to be able to spend a warm summer night laughing and playing together, almost like a normal family, instead of the usual episode of the Simpson's I seem to be living.
That experience was definitely a few steps above taking the kids to Oshkosh (1 hr 15 minutes one way) yesterday, so Rich could have lunch with the kids. Rich just opened a BWW there and wanted to see the kids. I didn't have a good reason to say, "No." (Had I thought it out, I could have come up with at least twelve.) The kids were reasonably well behaved during lunch, unlike my husband who would have rather been "motivating" his employees, but the car ride in 88 degree weather nearly killed me.
We don't have individual-controlled air conditioning in the very back of the van, so I let the kids open the windows. The other option would have been to baste the kids with water, turn them over, and let them finish roasting. So, given the heat and the fact they would not stop bickering, it was not a fun trip. Although, Rich did give the boys a "come to Jesus" speech, as he so fondly refers to his talks, which helped immensely. Last night all I had to ask was, "What did Dad say to you?" to curb the bickering.
Jon and I have started soccer and the summer reading program kicks off next week. Rich and I plan on taking the kids to the Milwaukee Zoo and the kids and I are probably going to Minnesota. We are only 1 1/2 hours from Wisconsin Dells, so Rich and I are definitely going to one of the water parks, with or without the kids. No matter what we do, I am sure there will be plenty of (mis)adventures to report from this part of the world.
That experience was definitely a few steps above taking the kids to Oshkosh (1 hr 15 minutes one way) yesterday, so Rich could have lunch with the kids. Rich just opened a BWW there and wanted to see the kids. I didn't have a good reason to say, "No." (Had I thought it out, I could have come up with at least twelve.) The kids were reasonably well behaved during lunch, unlike my husband who would have rather been "motivating" his employees, but the car ride in 88 degree weather nearly killed me.
We don't have individual-controlled air conditioning in the very back of the van, so I let the kids open the windows. The other option would have been to baste the kids with water, turn them over, and let them finish roasting. So, given the heat and the fact they would not stop bickering, it was not a fun trip. Although, Rich did give the boys a "come to Jesus" speech, as he so fondly refers to his talks, which helped immensely. Last night all I had to ask was, "What did Dad say to you?" to curb the bickering.
Jon and I have started soccer and the summer reading program kicks off next week. Rich and I plan on taking the kids to the Milwaukee Zoo and the kids and I are probably going to Minnesota. We are only 1 1/2 hours from Wisconsin Dells, so Rich and I are definitely going to one of the water parks, with or without the kids. No matter what we do, I am sure there will be plenty of (mis)adventures to report from this part of the world.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Tornado Update
Fortunately for us here in Stevens Point, the first tornado watch turned into the Tornado That Wasn't. We had the wind, the hail, and the gray skies, and some touchdowns in surrounding cities; nothing here except drama in the toy room.
After the weather alarm sounded citywide, I let the kids watch the hail for a minute and then hustled them downstairs. As soon as I joined them, Brandon said: "Tornadoes kill people you know." Just matter of fact, like 'Hey, it's true, What's the problem?', was my little professor of doom.
Which prompted Noah to reply: "My heart is breaking because I don't want to die."
Which Jon replied with, "Well, Noah, if you're dead, all of us and our friends probably will be too, so it doesn't really matter."
Which led me to think that it might be less painful to walk outside and into the eye of the storm because at least the pain would be quick and fast, unlike the prolonged agony of talking the Kings of Gloom and Doom down off the Cliff of Drama.
After the storm cleared and I reassured everyone it was safe, we walked back upstairs, ate supper, and sampled the cupcakes Noah is bringing to school tomorrow. I just chased the kids outside to get a little fresh air and give myself a break. The weather is calm for now; we are under warnings until midnight. I will try to keep everyone updated through the blog.
P.S. The DS's and Pokemon cards survived the first round. Lucky me. Rex/Lauren was as content as could be and sat in the middle of the floor drawing on her Doodle Board. Apparently, severe weather doesn't bother our puppy or our little girl.
After the weather alarm sounded citywide, I let the kids watch the hail for a minute and then hustled them downstairs. As soon as I joined them, Brandon said: "Tornadoes kill people you know." Just matter of fact, like 'Hey, it's true, What's the problem?', was my little professor of doom.
Which prompted Noah to reply: "My heart is breaking because I don't want to die."
Which Jon replied with, "Well, Noah, if you're dead, all of us and our friends probably will be too, so it doesn't really matter."
Which led me to think that it might be less painful to walk outside and into the eye of the storm because at least the pain would be quick and fast, unlike the prolonged agony of talking the Kings of Gloom and Doom down off the Cliff of Drama.
After the storm cleared and I reassured everyone it was safe, we walked back upstairs, ate supper, and sampled the cupcakes Noah is bringing to school tomorrow. I just chased the kids outside to get a little fresh air and give myself a break. The weather is calm for now; we are under warnings until midnight. I will try to keep everyone updated through the blog.
P.S. The DS's and Pokemon cards survived the first round. Lucky me. Rex/Lauren was as content as could be and sat in the middle of the floor drawing on her Doodle Board. Apparently, severe weather doesn't bother our puppy or our little girl.
Preparing for Bad Weather
Last night, the Stevens Point School District, under advisement of Portage County Emergency Planning, cancelled school for Thursday, June 7, 2007 (today). Our area is expected to get 70-80mph winds, hail the size of golf balls, and possible tornadoes. Being me, I have assembled a few basics and put them all in one spot downstairs. They don't cancel school on a whim in Stevens Point, Wisconsin, where our kids to go school even if it 30 degrees below zero, so I figured gathering some basic supplies to be the most prudent course of action.
Jon and Noah, who have had some "preparing for emergencies" classes at school, saw what I was doing. I must say, Jon immediately sprung into action. I now have DS Lites and Pokemon cards sitting against the wall, right next to my bottled water. Their possessions are safe. Noah's backpack is down there as well, so he can be ready for school tomorrow. Pointing out that if the weather is severe enough, school might be cancelled for the rest of the year, was actually the wrong thing to do. Noah replied: "I would miss the last day of school?? That just can't happen!"
As I watched my little boys scurry about the house, rounding up the things they value most, my original thought was this: "What kind of sick values have I taught you kids?" But then I realized that they 1) Have no clue what kind of destruction these storms can create, and 2) They are so sure, so positive that I will take care of them, they can worry about their stuff. Despite what they have studied in school, the potential devastation of the potential storm that is predicted to hit our area is beyond the reality of small children's thought processes.
Jonathon thinks that if his school is destroyed that people all over the United States will send them more supplies, just like they did for the kids of Hurricane Katrina. What I had to explain to him is that this is not a situation in which kids or grown ups want find themselves. So, I think he understands as much as an eight year who was never experienced a horrific storm and lost everything is capable.
(By the way, I haven't had the heart to tell the kids if we lose electricity for a while that they are screwed as soon as their DS's batteries run out of power. One storm at a time.)
We will stay safe and I will post tomorrow morning (if I have electricity) to let everyone know how it went.
Jon and Noah, who have had some "preparing for emergencies" classes at school, saw what I was doing. I must say, Jon immediately sprung into action. I now have DS Lites and Pokemon cards sitting against the wall, right next to my bottled water. Their possessions are safe. Noah's backpack is down there as well, so he can be ready for school tomorrow. Pointing out that if the weather is severe enough, school might be cancelled for the rest of the year, was actually the wrong thing to do. Noah replied: "I would miss the last day of school?? That just can't happen!"
As I watched my little boys scurry about the house, rounding up the things they value most, my original thought was this: "What kind of sick values have I taught you kids?" But then I realized that they 1) Have no clue what kind of destruction these storms can create, and 2) They are so sure, so positive that I will take care of them, they can worry about their stuff. Despite what they have studied in school, the potential devastation of the potential storm that is predicted to hit our area is beyond the reality of small children's thought processes.
Jonathon thinks that if his school is destroyed that people all over the United States will send them more supplies, just like they did for the kids of Hurricane Katrina. What I had to explain to him is that this is not a situation in which kids or grown ups want find themselves. So, I think he understands as much as an eight year who was never experienced a horrific storm and lost everything is capable.
(By the way, I haven't had the heart to tell the kids if we lose electricity for a while that they are screwed as soon as their DS's batteries run out of power. One storm at a time.)
We will stay safe and I will post tomorrow morning (if I have electricity) to let everyone know how it went.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Canceling Cable
For the ten tumultuous months in which my family resided in Minnesota, there was a phenomenon that occurred in play group for which I was not prepared. (Okay, two if you count being pregnant with Lauren.) One day, at play group, one of the Mom's announced that she had canceled cable television for the summer. Her announcement was met with "Thanks for reminding me!" and "Oh, I did that last week." I was the only Mom whose jaw hit the ground in surprise, shock, and awe. I was so impressed. Not impressed enough to cancel mine, but impressed that these women were willing to spend entire summers with their children without Nick Jr. to help easy the relentless demands of quality time.
After almost three years, I had finally screwed up the courage to cancel our cable this summer. I had the summer planned without cable televsion. The kids were going to have to (gasp) play with their toys. I would force them outside to play in (horror) the sun, make up their own games, and to possibly roam the neighborhood with other packs of small children. On rainy days aforementioned children would have to entertain each other by inventing games or playing board games they already owned.
However, I forget the most essential piece of advice to make cancelling cable work: "Do not ask your husband. Just do it." I truly believed Rich would support this decision. I was wrong in my belief. What I discovered is that it is not TV my husband dislikes, it it the video games consoles connected to the television for which he has no use. While the kids and I are in our little Nintendo-colored world, he is plotting on ways to hide the Game Cube...permanently. And considering the one vice Rich has is sports, it seems pretty callous to not give him the option of watching whatever event was on once he arrived home from work.
Thus ended the non-glorious, non-awe inspiring, internal cable/no cable struggle of 2007 for me. Truthfully, I can't say I am disappointed cable is still available at the Tolbert house. Like anything, moderation is key. (Knowing I ultimately control the remote helps too.) Ironically, the kids now have a decent backyard where they can play and explore so the cable debate became a moot point.
But to those of you gals in Minnesota who cancelled cable, you go girls. You have my admiration.
After almost three years, I had finally screwed up the courage to cancel our cable this summer. I had the summer planned without cable televsion. The kids were going to have to (gasp) play with their toys. I would force them outside to play in (horror) the sun, make up their own games, and to possibly roam the neighborhood with other packs of small children. On rainy days aforementioned children would have to entertain each other by inventing games or playing board games they already owned.
However, I forget the most essential piece of advice to make cancelling cable work: "Do not ask your husband. Just do it." I truly believed Rich would support this decision. I was wrong in my belief. What I discovered is that it is not TV my husband dislikes, it it the video games consoles connected to the television for which he has no use. While the kids and I are in our little Nintendo-colored world, he is plotting on ways to hide the Game Cube...permanently. And considering the one vice Rich has is sports, it seems pretty callous to not give him the option of watching whatever event was on once he arrived home from work.
Thus ended the non-glorious, non-awe inspiring, internal cable/no cable struggle of 2007 for me. Truthfully, I can't say I am disappointed cable is still available at the Tolbert house. Like anything, moderation is key. (Knowing I ultimately control the remote helps too.) Ironically, the kids now have a decent backyard where they can play and explore so the cable debate became a moot point.
But to those of you gals in Minnesota who cancelled cable, you go girls. You have my admiration.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Pokemon - The never ending saga
It started out so innocently, like most things in this house. Jonathon wanted Pokemon cards for his 8th birthday. (Truthfully, he wanted them before that, but I set an arbitrary age of 8 because it was finally my turn to make unreasonable rules and I wanted to get as much joy out of that fact as possible.) I remember how crazy these card made kids, fifteen years ago or so, and did not think the intensity of the craze could possibly be sustained. I forget one of the cardinal laws of parenthood: "Never assume anything." This rule is closely linked to the "Do the research before you say 'yes'" law.
Let me reassure you, those of you who are Pokemon virgins, who have firmly refused to let the cards into your house, the powers that are Pokemon are still going strong. The Pokemon people want, hope, and pray that your child's incessant pleading will reach your ears and limits of patience, so your dollars reach their bottom line. Honest to Goodness, what started out with one pack has exploded into Pokemon video games and cards all over the house. Each child has a three ring binder to keep all their cards separate and organized. (Lauren has one card in hers, and it is totally adorable watching her guard it and saying: "No trade, Noah! GET!)
Fortunately, after much yelling and threatening, I have become smart about the cards. If they are left out and about the cards become mine. I can sell them, trade them, or even worse, give them out to siblings as rewards. It is amazing how the threat of throwing out the whole binder doesn't even garner a reaction, but the idea of one of their brothers having their cards is just too much for them to bear. As far as the begging and pleading, if it wasn't this it would be something else, so I pretty much ignore or tune that out.
The upside is that I believe these cards have motivated Jonathon to become a better reader because he wants to be able to find out the information on the cards himself. Also, all the kids have learned about making fair trades and not agreeing to a trade until they have all the information. It absolutely blows my mind that Jonathon can tell me a Pokemon's evolutions, strength, weakness, type, and trainer, but is still reversing letters at school. I know, writing is not a priority for him (in his mind). Funny enough, he is starting to write stories about Pokemon adventures, so as long as I am smart enough to not point he is practicing his writing, we are both (reasonably) happy with the results.
So, instead of playing Barbie vs G.I. Joe, or Army, or He-man vs. She-ra (the best game ever because it involved sticks and phrases like "I've got the poowwwwerrr!"), like I did as a perfectly well-behaved child, my kids play Pokemon. My house is filled with cries of: "Charmander, I choose you!" Suddenly, out flies a Lauren or Brandon running around like crazy following Jon and Noah's attack commands. (It is play imitating life.) I have come to the conclusion that as long as the kids are having fun and there isn't much blood, I am going to let them play and use their imaginations. Who knows? Maybe I can teach my little Pokemon to cook dinner and do the laundry, after they pour me a glass of wine and rub my shoulders. (Apparently, my children aren't the only ones with overactive imaginations.)
Let me reassure you, those of you who are Pokemon virgins, who have firmly refused to let the cards into your house, the powers that are Pokemon are still going strong. The Pokemon people want, hope, and pray that your child's incessant pleading will reach your ears and limits of patience, so your dollars reach their bottom line. Honest to Goodness, what started out with one pack has exploded into Pokemon video games and cards all over the house. Each child has a three ring binder to keep all their cards separate and organized. (Lauren has one card in hers, and it is totally adorable watching her guard it and saying: "No trade, Noah! GET!)
Fortunately, after much yelling and threatening, I have become smart about the cards. If they are left out and about the cards become mine. I can sell them, trade them, or even worse, give them out to siblings as rewards. It is amazing how the threat of throwing out the whole binder doesn't even garner a reaction, but the idea of one of their brothers having their cards is just too much for them to bear. As far as the begging and pleading, if it wasn't this it would be something else, so I pretty much ignore or tune that out.
The upside is that I believe these cards have motivated Jonathon to become a better reader because he wants to be able to find out the information on the cards himself. Also, all the kids have learned about making fair trades and not agreeing to a trade until they have all the information. It absolutely blows my mind that Jonathon can tell me a Pokemon's evolutions, strength, weakness, type, and trainer, but is still reversing letters at school. I know, writing is not a priority for him (in his mind). Funny enough, he is starting to write stories about Pokemon adventures, so as long as I am smart enough to not point he is practicing his writing, we are both (reasonably) happy with the results.
So, instead of playing Barbie vs G.I. Joe, or Army, or He-man vs. She-ra (the best game ever because it involved sticks and phrases like "I've got the poowwwwerrr!"), like I did as a perfectly well-behaved child, my kids play Pokemon. My house is filled with cries of: "Charmander, I choose you!" Suddenly, out flies a Lauren or Brandon running around like crazy following Jon and Noah's attack commands. (It is play imitating life.) I have come to the conclusion that as long as the kids are having fun and there isn't much blood, I am going to let them play and use their imaginations. Who knows? Maybe I can teach my little Pokemon to cook dinner and do the laundry, after they pour me a glass of wine and rub my shoulders. (Apparently, my children aren't the only ones with overactive imaginations.)
Our New Puppy
Well, we have a new puppy in our house. However, like everything in our life, this puppy is atypical; not the kind with four legs and a button nose, although this one tends to give slobbery kisses with her tongue. My darling 2 1/2 year old daughter has decided she is puppy named Rex. To give you some background, Rex is a 10 year old puppy Lauren met at her Aunt Maryanne's house, in PA, and, at one point, was deathly afraid of touching her. Well, the times have changed: Lauren is no longer afraid and barking like mad. Now, the house is filled with the sound of screaming kids and a barking dog.
Our Rex puppy likes to sit on our lap so we can rub her belly. We scratch her head. She has even dumped her dry cereal out on the floor so she could eat like a dog. It is not uncommon for her to eat "doggy treats" out of our hands. If "Rex" is feeling particularly mischievous she will put her brother's Pokemon cards in her mouth and carry them around the house, which incites a small army of boys chasing after her. Well, chasing after their card, as she well knows. Sometimes, she morphs from "Rex" to monster puppy. Her barks and growls become deeper and she might try to nip. When our Rex needs attention, real or perceived, she stands up on the couch and starts barking. Loudly. Persistently.
We are having some issues, since our puppy does not like some of our rules, such as, "no puppies on the bed" rule, or "dirty puppies still need to take baths." My personal favorite of the rules seems to be the most fun to break, which is the "no slobbering on Mommy" rule. (I know it is because I hate my face being slobbered on by one child, let alone three others who magically become dogs so they can slobber on me too, so my reaction makes the game that much more fun.)
While this puppy is the process of being housebroken, I am relieved not to wake up to the morning surprises real puppies tend to leave behind for their humans to clean. Also, I can take Rex to the park or shopping(usually minus the leash), and still lay her down for naps in the afternoon. Another upside is that when Lauren is done being Rex puppy, she is a dancing princess that likes to wear dresses that flounce, while simultaneously practicing her boxing, head butting, and karate kicking skills. All in all, I would say we have a very normal little girl/puppy growing in our house who likes to rip things apart and causing chaos.
Our Rex puppy likes to sit on our lap so we can rub her belly. We scratch her head. She has even dumped her dry cereal out on the floor so she could eat like a dog. It is not uncommon for her to eat "doggy treats" out of our hands. If "Rex" is feeling particularly mischievous she will put her brother's Pokemon cards in her mouth and carry them around the house, which incites a small army of boys chasing after her. Well, chasing after their card, as she well knows. Sometimes, she morphs from "Rex" to monster puppy. Her barks and growls become deeper and she might try to nip. When our Rex needs attention, real or perceived, she stands up on the couch and starts barking. Loudly. Persistently.
We are having some issues, since our puppy does not like some of our rules, such as, "no puppies on the bed" rule, or "dirty puppies still need to take baths." My personal favorite of the rules seems to be the most fun to break, which is the "no slobbering on Mommy" rule. (I know it is because I hate my face being slobbered on by one child, let alone three others who magically become dogs so they can slobber on me too, so my reaction makes the game that much more fun.)
While this puppy is the process of being housebroken, I am relieved not to wake up to the morning surprises real puppies tend to leave behind for their humans to clean. Also, I can take Rex to the park or shopping(usually minus the leash), and still lay her down for naps in the afternoon. Another upside is that when Lauren is done being Rex puppy, she is a dancing princess that likes to wear dresses that flounce, while simultaneously practicing her boxing, head butting, and karate kicking skills. All in all, I would say we have a very normal little girl/puppy growing in our house who likes to rip things apart and causing chaos.
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