Listening to: The Bounty Girls
Mood: Calm
My eldest daughter just entered Kindergarten last week. (Enter usual laments about how fast time goes by and children grow here) I’ve always been on the strict side with her. I will be with my youngest too. I feel children need leadership and boundaries to grow up right. Just my personal child rearing philosophy. I’ve commented before about how parenting is becoming less and less up to the parents and more and more of peer pressure and outside interference and regulation. I’ve also commented about parents who feel it’s their right to make judgmental comments on how other parents do their thing. One of the comments that I received recently that really bothered me: “Wow, you’re…..strict.” In a condescending tone as if I beat my children with a wooden spoon to keep them in line. (By the way, that’s how my dad kept me in line. Not that I in any way condone that.) So let me get this straight. You want to judge me for trying to raise a socially conscious, courteous, law abiding child? Um, what? It’s not really a new thing, but it is still very much in vogue to be friends with your kids. My generation as parents seem to have a need to be liked. I never subscribed to this theory. I love my children, my children love me. However, they don’t have to like me. In fact, they probably shouldn’t like me, at least until they turn 25. If they do, I feel like I’m not doing my job. Kids should not get everything they want or ask for. They just don’t have enough information or life experience to know what’s best for them. So yes, I am strict. Raising kids is a hard job. Hard enough without fellow parents being snarky. I don’t mind being seen as strict. I agree that if you start seeing me beat my children in public that I probably need to be stopped, but until then, let me raise my kids as I see fit.
Becky
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Playground Etiquette
Mood: blasé
Listening to: Classic Rock on TV
I took my daughters to a park yesterday. My elder daughter ran off to climb and my younger one got set in the grass to play. All of a sudden, my older daughter came running up to me, crying, with blood streaming from her nose to her chin. At first, I thought she fell and knocked out some teeth, but it turned out she was hit in the nose by a stray Frisbee. I looked for a tissue to stop the bleeding and then looked around for the person who did it or a parent to at least see if she was ok. Nothing. No one but a great older grandpa offering me some wipes. His grandkids still needed to be carried around, so I was pretty sure it wasn’t related to him at all. Thank you so much by the way super grandpa! I later learned that the boy who threw the Frisbee had apologized to my daughter, but it was still the weirdest thing. Any time your kid runs up to you with a bloody face, it’s very upsetting, especially if someone else was involved, but is nowhere to be seen. Isn’t this basic playground etiquette? If your child hurts someone, even accidentally, don’t you at least tell the other parent something happened? Offer your best apologies and make sure the other child is ok? Perhaps they were afraid I would go nuts. After all, some parents are a little crazy these days, especially when a bloody face is involved. Still. They had to see the blood running down her face. That would at least appear a little serious. It’s not just running into another child.
I just think it sets a good example when parents show their child how to react when someone gets hurt, even if it was just an accident. Not all parents are psychos. Kids get hurt and it was an accident. I may not have been quite as understanding if the boy had punched her, but it was definitely an accident. If this happens to your child, make sure you set a good example. Find the other parent and explain what happened. Even if they do fly off the hook, and lots do when their child gets hurt, you will still be teaching your child to take responsibility for his or her actions, even if they accidentally hurt someone else.
Becky
Listening to: Classic Rock on TV
I took my daughters to a park yesterday. My elder daughter ran off to climb and my younger one got set in the grass to play. All of a sudden, my older daughter came running up to me, crying, with blood streaming from her nose to her chin. At first, I thought she fell and knocked out some teeth, but it turned out she was hit in the nose by a stray Frisbee. I looked for a tissue to stop the bleeding and then looked around for the person who did it or a parent to at least see if she was ok. Nothing. No one but a great older grandpa offering me some wipes. His grandkids still needed to be carried around, so I was pretty sure it wasn’t related to him at all. Thank you so much by the way super grandpa! I later learned that the boy who threw the Frisbee had apologized to my daughter, but it was still the weirdest thing. Any time your kid runs up to you with a bloody face, it’s very upsetting, especially if someone else was involved, but is nowhere to be seen. Isn’t this basic playground etiquette? If your child hurts someone, even accidentally, don’t you at least tell the other parent something happened? Offer your best apologies and make sure the other child is ok? Perhaps they were afraid I would go nuts. After all, some parents are a little crazy these days, especially when a bloody face is involved. Still. They had to see the blood running down her face. That would at least appear a little serious. It’s not just running into another child.
I just think it sets a good example when parents show their child how to react when someone gets hurt, even if it was just an accident. Not all parents are psychos. Kids get hurt and it was an accident. I may not have been quite as understanding if the boy had punched her, but it was definitely an accident. If this happens to your child, make sure you set a good example. Find the other parent and explain what happened. Even if they do fly off the hook, and lots do when their child gets hurt, you will still be teaching your child to take responsibility for his or her actions, even if they accidentally hurt someone else.
Becky
Monday, August 11, 2008
It's a.......boy?
It’s a…..boy?
Mood: Quietly cranky
Listening to: Aristocats on TV
My youngest daughter is 8 months old. She doesn’t necessarily look like a girl. Most babies don’t look specifically like their gender for quite a while. So if some cute old granny tells me how cute he is and my daughter happens to be wearing a gender questionable outfit, I really don’t mind. Honestly, I don’t. Unless we know them, I don’t usually bother to correct the person. However, most of the times this happens, my daughter is not wearing an outfit of that type. She has pierced ears. Both of them. So if she’s wearing pink, is seated in her Very Pink Car Seat, and her older sister is asking her if she’s a good girl, well ladies and gentleman, it really isn’t a brain buster. You know what they say about ducks. If it looks, quacks, and flies like a duck, it ain’t a chicken.
I know some people make a big deal out of deciding that their children won’t be biased against certain colors just because of their gender. I have nothing against little girls in blue or green or boys in red or yellow, or even a little pink. However, most people do naturally use colors that help identify gender. It’s just habit. We define our world around us with convenient parameters. Using colors is a natural method of distinction. My daughter does occasionally wear blue and green and purple. I’m not a fan of making girls and boys into overly programmed bots, but pink and lavender just mentally fit for me on girls.
I guess it’s just my mom defensive getting rubbed when people tell me how cute my child is, but don’t bother to notice what she’s wearing and sitting in.
Becky
Mood: Quietly cranky
Listening to: Aristocats on TV
My youngest daughter is 8 months old. She doesn’t necessarily look like a girl. Most babies don’t look specifically like their gender for quite a while. So if some cute old granny tells me how cute he is and my daughter happens to be wearing a gender questionable outfit, I really don’t mind. Honestly, I don’t. Unless we know them, I don’t usually bother to correct the person. However, most of the times this happens, my daughter is not wearing an outfit of that type. She has pierced ears. Both of them. So if she’s wearing pink, is seated in her Very Pink Car Seat, and her older sister is asking her if she’s a good girl, well ladies and gentleman, it really isn’t a brain buster. You know what they say about ducks. If it looks, quacks, and flies like a duck, it ain’t a chicken.
I know some people make a big deal out of deciding that their children won’t be biased against certain colors just because of their gender. I have nothing against little girls in blue or green or boys in red or yellow, or even a little pink. However, most people do naturally use colors that help identify gender. It’s just habit. We define our world around us with convenient parameters. Using colors is a natural method of distinction. My daughter does occasionally wear blue and green and purple. I’m not a fan of making girls and boys into overly programmed bots, but pink and lavender just mentally fit for me on girls.
I guess it’s just my mom defensive getting rubbed when people tell me how cute my child is, but don’t bother to notice what she’s wearing and sitting in.
Becky
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Swimming in a Tar Pit
Mood: Exasperated
Listening to: American Pie – Don McLean along with my ghetto-booty wall sleeve air conditioner that will doubtlessly vibrate itself out onto the porch any minute now. Yippee.
I have once more emerged from the black hole of the internets once again to provide you with a taste of the rediculosity that is parenting. I know I’ve been away from a while (again!). I sincerely hope no one is checking back in every few days for inspiration. I hate it when I check back on a blog every day for a month to find the same entry staring me in the face. That’s just kind of how life is going these days.
While I was absent, I took my two progeny to visit my mother, best friend, and grandparents in Chicago and Michigan. For the most part, it was a great trip and fun was had by all. The rest we’ll dig into with a spoon in another blog.
And now for something completely different, last night I was contemplating how detrimental it would be to pipe mashed potatoes in my ears. Just to deaden the noise. You see, my baby is 7.5 months old now, and to my dismay, has decided that she is a screamer. And a yeller. She screams for food, she screams for a clean diaper, she screams to be picked up, she screams because she’s happy. Hell, she screams just for the joy of making so much noise. The problem with all this is that I have wood floors in my apartment and it’s not overly furnished with noise reduction items like love seats and curtains. I seriously have to cover my ears at times it is so shrill. And she does it all the time. She has been so different from my eldest daughter. In almost every aspect, she has been a much more difficult baby. It really calls my sanity into question when I still insist I want more kids.
I’ve always thought that having kids and trying to preserve your own identity is like trying to go swimming in a tar pit. Some people realize this before they have kids and jump in anyway, others, like me, don’t realize it until much later. Of course if you aren’t really interested in preserving your own identity sans kids and are totally sold on a new mommy identity, you have already sunk. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Of course most of us moms that identify with losing our identity get an inordinate amount of joy from said tar pit (i.e. our kids), it still gets a little depressing at times. I’ve told my husband many times that if I were able to just coast along never cooking or cleaning a thing, I’d probably handle motherhood just fine. The minute I start to put fight and cook or clean, little tar limbs appear out of nowhere needing lots of different things. My 4 year old is much better than the baby, but the ability to talk and get bored have inspired her to think of lots of unnecessary things to bother me to fetch for her. I.e. milk, a scissors, finger paints, a taco salad (seriously, wtf?). At least when it’s moderately temperate outside we can go for a walk or to the park. When Mother Nature decides to turn into a steam cooker, we’re not only stuck together, we’re stuck together in my 1000 square foot apartment. For the 18 or so hours they are awake.
*Cue tragic sigh. I’m sure I’ll miss all of this as they get older.
Becky
Listening to: American Pie – Don McLean along with my ghetto-booty wall sleeve air conditioner that will doubtlessly vibrate itself out onto the porch any minute now. Yippee.
I have once more emerged from the black hole of the internets once again to provide you with a taste of the rediculosity that is parenting. I know I’ve been away from a while (again!). I sincerely hope no one is checking back in every few days for inspiration. I hate it when I check back on a blog every day for a month to find the same entry staring me in the face. That’s just kind of how life is going these days.
While I was absent, I took my two progeny to visit my mother, best friend, and grandparents in Chicago and Michigan. For the most part, it was a great trip and fun was had by all. The rest we’ll dig into with a spoon in another blog.
And now for something completely different, last night I was contemplating how detrimental it would be to pipe mashed potatoes in my ears. Just to deaden the noise. You see, my baby is 7.5 months old now, and to my dismay, has decided that she is a screamer. And a yeller. She screams for food, she screams for a clean diaper, she screams to be picked up, she screams because she’s happy. Hell, she screams just for the joy of making so much noise. The problem with all this is that I have wood floors in my apartment and it’s not overly furnished with noise reduction items like love seats and curtains. I seriously have to cover my ears at times it is so shrill. And she does it all the time. She has been so different from my eldest daughter. In almost every aspect, she has been a much more difficult baby. It really calls my sanity into question when I still insist I want more kids.
I’ve always thought that having kids and trying to preserve your own identity is like trying to go swimming in a tar pit. Some people realize this before they have kids and jump in anyway, others, like me, don’t realize it until much later. Of course if you aren’t really interested in preserving your own identity sans kids and are totally sold on a new mommy identity, you have already sunk. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Of course most of us moms that identify with losing our identity get an inordinate amount of joy from said tar pit (i.e. our kids), it still gets a little depressing at times. I’ve told my husband many times that if I were able to just coast along never cooking or cleaning a thing, I’d probably handle motherhood just fine. The minute I start to put fight and cook or clean, little tar limbs appear out of nowhere needing lots of different things. My 4 year old is much better than the baby, but the ability to talk and get bored have inspired her to think of lots of unnecessary things to bother me to fetch for her. I.e. milk, a scissors, finger paints, a taco salad (seriously, wtf?). At least when it’s moderately temperate outside we can go for a walk or to the park. When Mother Nature decides to turn into a steam cooker, we’re not only stuck together, we’re stuck together in my 1000 square foot apartment. For the 18 or so hours they are awake.
*Cue tragic sigh. I’m sure I’ll miss all of this as they get older.
Becky
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
My Very Own Hypochondriac
Listening to: The air conditioner
Mood: Glad to be in a cool room
My eldest daughter has decided that she likes attention. Well, to be honest, this is a really old decision. The new part of this is the obtaining of attention through blowing any and all injuries, no matter how minor, WAY out of proportion. She’s like that creepy person you just met at the bus stand who now shares way too much information and wants to be your bff. The “take a look at this rash” type that makes you inch down the bench and desperately avoid any and all eye contact until the bus arrives. Not that it helps you any, the person will keep talking at you anyhow. Of course this fits in perfectly with my daughter’s innate ability to be the biggest drama queen ever. She doesn’t cry much when she gets hurt, but she will make sure to remind you 546 times in the next 5 minutes that she does indeed have a booboo on her hand. It bled, and yes, it still hurts. It has gotten to the point where any little sneeze, sniffle, or cough will doubtlessly turn into a raging cold or possibly pneumonia. That’s her story and she’s sticking to it until the next possible malady comes along. Recently, she got a nasty cut on her foot without even realizing it. It was only after I noticed that she had managed to smear blood across the floor (a wood one, thank god!) that she even realized it. It was a pretty decent sized cut on the top of her foot, but she couldn’t even think of how it had come to be there. Then we had to go through the band aid routine. I’m sure all mothers have gone through this. I need a one here……and here……oh, and here……and shoot, just give me the whole box with which to decorate my body because they stick so much better than paper stickers!
Sigh. I need a daiquiri. I’m not a drama person anyhow, but I think the heat and the drama are really getting to me. Yes. I am indeed in immediate need of a frozen drink of the alcoholic type.
Becky
Mood: Glad to be in a cool room
My eldest daughter has decided that she likes attention. Well, to be honest, this is a really old decision. The new part of this is the obtaining of attention through blowing any and all injuries, no matter how minor, WAY out of proportion. She’s like that creepy person you just met at the bus stand who now shares way too much information and wants to be your bff. The “take a look at this rash” type that makes you inch down the bench and desperately avoid any and all eye contact until the bus arrives. Not that it helps you any, the person will keep talking at you anyhow. Of course this fits in perfectly with my daughter’s innate ability to be the biggest drama queen ever. She doesn’t cry much when she gets hurt, but she will make sure to remind you 546 times in the next 5 minutes that she does indeed have a booboo on her hand. It bled, and yes, it still hurts. It has gotten to the point where any little sneeze, sniffle, or cough will doubtlessly turn into a raging cold or possibly pneumonia. That’s her story and she’s sticking to it until the next possible malady comes along. Recently, she got a nasty cut on her foot without even realizing it. It was only after I noticed that she had managed to smear blood across the floor (a wood one, thank god!) that she even realized it. It was a pretty decent sized cut on the top of her foot, but she couldn’t even think of how it had come to be there. Then we had to go through the band aid routine. I’m sure all mothers have gone through this. I need a one here……and here……oh, and here……and shoot, just give me the whole box with which to decorate my body because they stick so much better than paper stickers!
Sigh. I need a daiquiri. I’m not a drama person anyhow, but I think the heat and the drama are really getting to me. Yes. I am indeed in immediate need of a frozen drink of the alcoholic type.
Becky
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Too Much Touch
Listening to: Clean House
Mood: Tired
Psst. Psst. Over Here. Behind the couch. Shhhhh!! We have to be quiet or they’ll find me. My kids. They’ve sent out a search party already. I’m sure every mom has had moments like the one I’m having right now. Anyone who hasn’t either isn’t spending enough time with their kid(s) or she is lying. My children have decided on a double team attack strategy to make me crazy by never, ever letting me be by myself. Did I mention ever? I really feel bad for my husband, who is decently saran wrap-ish himself, because by the time he comes home, I have built a 3 foot steel bubble around myself. The children will still insist on throwing themselves at it and bouncing off, but by that time, I absolutely need some space. My youngest child was born a Velcro wannabe and her arrival has caused a jealous streak to arise within her elder sister who then decided that being away from me (read not touching me) might mean that I will run away to the circus and never love or think of her again. Now this is ridiculous, but I never could tell that girl anything.
My poor husband just can’t imagine why, at the end of the day, that I don’t want anything to do with anyone overly needy or under 20. It has nothing to do with him at all, but finding one more person telling me plaintively that he’s hungry just irritates me to no end. Especially when that person is 33 with perfectly functional arms and legs. I know this is a pretty common problem for wives, but it just drives me nuts to have another immature person adding to the chaos instead of helping me manage it, like an adult.
Becky
Mood: Tired
Psst. Psst. Over Here. Behind the couch. Shhhhh!! We have to be quiet or they’ll find me. My kids. They’ve sent out a search party already. I’m sure every mom has had moments like the one I’m having right now. Anyone who hasn’t either isn’t spending enough time with their kid(s) or she is lying. My children have decided on a double team attack strategy to make me crazy by never, ever letting me be by myself. Did I mention ever? I really feel bad for my husband, who is decently saran wrap-ish himself, because by the time he comes home, I have built a 3 foot steel bubble around myself. The children will still insist on throwing themselves at it and bouncing off, but by that time, I absolutely need some space. My youngest child was born a Velcro wannabe and her arrival has caused a jealous streak to arise within her elder sister who then decided that being away from me (read not touching me) might mean that I will run away to the circus and never love or think of her again. Now this is ridiculous, but I never could tell that girl anything.
My poor husband just can’t imagine why, at the end of the day, that I don’t want anything to do with anyone overly needy or under 20. It has nothing to do with him at all, but finding one more person telling me plaintively that he’s hungry just irritates me to no end. Especially when that person is 33 with perfectly functional arms and legs. I know this is a pretty common problem for wives, but it just drives me nuts to have another immature person adding to the chaos instead of helping me manage it, like an adult.
Becky
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Paging the Common Sense Fairy!
Listening to: Goofy Movie
Mood: Content
So I’m having one of those quirky moments in the universe where I have some time to sit and write while both my kids are awake, but quiet and occupied.
I was on the phone with my mom the other day when I walked next to my TV. I noticed that there were a lot of little white dots all over my TV stand and TV. As I explored, I discovered the salt shaker next to the TV. I asked my eldest daughter why I found salt all over the television. Of course she had no idea why. *Sigh* I thought we had conquered the obsession with the salt shaker and shaking salt all over, but at 4.5, my daughter does not possess enough concentration to remember that salt is for food.
Another example of this happened last weekend. We were visiting my sister in law and her family up in Connecticut. My daughter and her younger cousin were playing in the adult’s bedroom. My sister in law had left the iron on the floor and it was on. My daughter ended up grabbing it. On purpose. When I asked her why she grabbed the iron, she replied that she was curious. Now, we have an iron at home. We have had many, many chats as to how the iron is super hot and how she should never touch it. I felt terrible because she burned her hand, but absolutely amazed at how curiosity could circumvent both knowledge and the survival instinct.
It simply does not occur to my diva girl that just because she hid her milk cup and can’t find it, again, that the universe has not swallowed it up, along with all the rest of the milk in the world. So she panics. Sometimes it’s fun living with a ditzy diva. Life is never boring, she has a fantastic imagination, she cares a lot for others. On the other hand, it’s exhausting to have to think for her most of the time.
Becky
Mood: Content
So I’m having one of those quirky moments in the universe where I have some time to sit and write while both my kids are awake, but quiet and occupied.
I was on the phone with my mom the other day when I walked next to my TV. I noticed that there were a lot of little white dots all over my TV stand and TV. As I explored, I discovered the salt shaker next to the TV. I asked my eldest daughter why I found salt all over the television. Of course she had no idea why. *Sigh* I thought we had conquered the obsession with the salt shaker and shaking salt all over, but at 4.5, my daughter does not possess enough concentration to remember that salt is for food.
Another example of this happened last weekend. We were visiting my sister in law and her family up in Connecticut. My daughter and her younger cousin were playing in the adult’s bedroom. My sister in law had left the iron on the floor and it was on. My daughter ended up grabbing it. On purpose. When I asked her why she grabbed the iron, she replied that she was curious. Now, we have an iron at home. We have had many, many chats as to how the iron is super hot and how she should never touch it. I felt terrible because she burned her hand, but absolutely amazed at how curiosity could circumvent both knowledge and the survival instinct.
It simply does not occur to my diva girl that just because she hid her milk cup and can’t find it, again, that the universe has not swallowed it up, along with all the rest of the milk in the world. So she panics. Sometimes it’s fun living with a ditzy diva. Life is never boring, she has a fantastic imagination, she cares a lot for others. On the other hand, it’s exhausting to have to think for her most of the time.
Becky
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Falling in Love at 4
Listening to: The absolute madhouse chaos of McDonald’s play place on a busy day
Mood: Content
My eldest daughter has a boyfriend. At 4. Well, to be fair, he’s not really a boyfriend, but he is a boy, and according to my daughter he is the love to her and a very good friend. He really likes to play with her at preschool, every single day! I find it both adorable and a little scary all at the same time. My daughter’s version of love, at a ripe old age of 4, is so innocent it’s amazing. He’s just a very good friend, but they are both extraordinarily fond of each other.
It also made me wonder what I’m going to do when she starts dating. We have a good 14 years until that happens (I know, I know, but I can hope anyhow), but I really wonder how I, and more specifically her father, will deal with it. I know I’m biased about my daughter, pretty much everyone is biased about their own kids, but I think she’s on the attractive side of the spectrum. I especially think she has pretty eyes. So after reviewing my own dating experiences and my knowledge of boys in general, I was trying to decide if I should stand at the door with a really big stick or just go right to a shotgun. Perhaps both….
It is my hope that I will raise both my daughters to know their worth and how to judge the nature of a man well enough that I won’t have to deal with any really bad choices, just them growing up. It’s such a fine balance to raise children between the beauty of childhood innocence and shattering it completely to try and protect them from the world by overeducating them about it. I was very sheltered as a child and as a result made some spectacularly bad choices the minute I was out on my own. I thought I could handle certain things that were way beyond my depth. I want to educate my girls to the point that they recognize that the world is a huge, scary, complex place, but not so much that they are scared to go out and make it on their own.
Everyone makes mistakes growing up – it’s inevitable. What matters is the kind of mistakes that you make. Let me give you an example. I’d say that deciding to drink way too much at a party when you’re under aged but then calling your parents to come pick you up is a much smaller mistake than going to that same party and trying to drive yourself home because you think you can handle it. I don’t want any hate mail for this – it’s just an example. I’m not condoning underage drinking or anything like that. In order for your kids to be able to make smart decisions like this, you have to talk to them about the hard stuff. My parents didn’t do this for me. They just said don’t do any of this bad stuff. Or else. I want to take an active roll in my kids thinking about drinking, drugs, and sex. I want them to make smart choices because we have discussed the consequences and they understand them. I’m not knocking my parents. By the time I got old enough to think about this stuff, my mom was on her own dealing with 2 teenagers, and did her best. But now that I have my own kids, I am definitely more prone to thinking how I want to handle this stuff with my own kids.
So until my daughter gets old enough to date, I think I’ll encourage friendships with boys too. It will be good for her to have some friendship experiences with boys too.
Becky
Mood: Content
My eldest daughter has a boyfriend. At 4. Well, to be fair, he’s not really a boyfriend, but he is a boy, and according to my daughter he is the love to her and a very good friend. He really likes to play with her at preschool, every single day! I find it both adorable and a little scary all at the same time. My daughter’s version of love, at a ripe old age of 4, is so innocent it’s amazing. He’s just a very good friend, but they are both extraordinarily fond of each other.
It also made me wonder what I’m going to do when she starts dating. We have a good 14 years until that happens (I know, I know, but I can hope anyhow), but I really wonder how I, and more specifically her father, will deal with it. I know I’m biased about my daughter, pretty much everyone is biased about their own kids, but I think she’s on the attractive side of the spectrum. I especially think she has pretty eyes. So after reviewing my own dating experiences and my knowledge of boys in general, I was trying to decide if I should stand at the door with a really big stick or just go right to a shotgun. Perhaps both….
It is my hope that I will raise both my daughters to know their worth and how to judge the nature of a man well enough that I won’t have to deal with any really bad choices, just them growing up. It’s such a fine balance to raise children between the beauty of childhood innocence and shattering it completely to try and protect them from the world by overeducating them about it. I was very sheltered as a child and as a result made some spectacularly bad choices the minute I was out on my own. I thought I could handle certain things that were way beyond my depth. I want to educate my girls to the point that they recognize that the world is a huge, scary, complex place, but not so much that they are scared to go out and make it on their own.
Everyone makes mistakes growing up – it’s inevitable. What matters is the kind of mistakes that you make. Let me give you an example. I’d say that deciding to drink way too much at a party when you’re under aged but then calling your parents to come pick you up is a much smaller mistake than going to that same party and trying to drive yourself home because you think you can handle it. I don’t want any hate mail for this – it’s just an example. I’m not condoning underage drinking or anything like that. In order for your kids to be able to make smart decisions like this, you have to talk to them about the hard stuff. My parents didn’t do this for me. They just said don’t do any of this bad stuff. Or else. I want to take an active roll in my kids thinking about drinking, drugs, and sex. I want them to make smart choices because we have discussed the consequences and they understand them. I’m not knocking my parents. By the time I got old enough to think about this stuff, my mom was on her own dealing with 2 teenagers, and did her best. But now that I have my own kids, I am definitely more prone to thinking how I want to handle this stuff with my own kids.
So until my daughter gets old enough to date, I think I’ll encourage friendships with boys too. It will be good for her to have some friendship experiences with boys too.
Becky
Saturday, March 22, 2008
A Sigh of Relief
Listening to: Elder child whining, again.
Mood: Content
We have been having a bit of a difficult time around our house as of late. Most of this difficulty is revolving around my elder daughter, who shall be referred to as AA girl in the rest of this post. You’ll understand this in a minute.
For those who don’t know, AA is 4.4 years old. We also have a 3.5 month old, referred to as Squishy. As AA has been the only child for her 4 short years on earth, she had a reasonably difficult time adjusting to Squishy’s arrival. We were prepared for it though, and it wasn’t really that bad.
So the really intense time started when I had to bring both my girls to the pediatrician last Friday. Unfortunately for them (and indeed, me too) both girls needed shots. When I was a young girl, I had a severe phobia of shots. I could work myself into a panic attack just thinking about getting one. Unfortunately, AA inherited this terror. She had a rather traumatic experience at the Dr.’s office, partly due to her fear and partly due to some insensitive people at the office – but that’s a whole different rant. Since then, she has been the most angry, hateful little girl imaginable. I felt rather like we had slid back into the terrible twos, but with more tricks up her sleeve to hurl at me. She has always behaved in this manner, but not quite so rude and angry. I had really run out of ideas as to how to deal with AA too. On top of this, she is home all day right now for 2 weeks for Easter break. Hubby would come home at night and find me near tears, a rare event indeed, from dealing with both a demanding, fussy, infant and a four year old who argued and was extremely rude and defiant all day.
I finally turned to the internet to find some help or support in how to help my daughter deal with her anger. I happened to come across a page on difficult children. I read through the page on defiance first, but it really didn’t seem to fit my daughter all that well. I moved on to a page on Active Aggressive (AA) children. It was like the heavens opened up with the Hallelujah chorus. That was my daughter – to a T. It was such a relief to not worry that her demeanor was a result of me being a horrible parent. It was a huge sigh of relief. I also found some parenting tips on how to best deal with these types of children, and it has made a night and day difference in my daughter’s behavior. I had some adjustments to make too. It hasn’t been the easiest thing to accept – everyone thinks they know how they should deal with discipline – but sometimes it’s great to have an instruction manual that helps you deal with your type of child. In the past, it had been a constant source of frustration for hubby and I, because we simply ran out of ideas on how to deal with her constant energy and attitude. There really is no professional child person telling you, don’t worry, this method or that method will work, just give it a little time. Instead, we were just growing more and more frustrated as we flipped through ways of dealing with behaviors. It’s kind of sad though. Had I known this information, I could have dealt with some of the stresses in a much more productive manner.
I’ll continue to update you on how it’s going with AA. She’s got a long road ahead of her, but it’s a good one filled with possibilities. I was an AA child myself and I turned out okay. Hopefully her childhood will be even better than mine because her father and I have this info.
Becky
Mood: Content
We have been having a bit of a difficult time around our house as of late. Most of this difficulty is revolving around my elder daughter, who shall be referred to as AA girl in the rest of this post. You’ll understand this in a minute.
For those who don’t know, AA is 4.4 years old. We also have a 3.5 month old, referred to as Squishy. As AA has been the only child for her 4 short years on earth, she had a reasonably difficult time adjusting to Squishy’s arrival. We were prepared for it though, and it wasn’t really that bad.
So the really intense time started when I had to bring both my girls to the pediatrician last Friday. Unfortunately for them (and indeed, me too) both girls needed shots. When I was a young girl, I had a severe phobia of shots. I could work myself into a panic attack just thinking about getting one. Unfortunately, AA inherited this terror. She had a rather traumatic experience at the Dr.’s office, partly due to her fear and partly due to some insensitive people at the office – but that’s a whole different rant. Since then, she has been the most angry, hateful little girl imaginable. I felt rather like we had slid back into the terrible twos, but with more tricks up her sleeve to hurl at me. She has always behaved in this manner, but not quite so rude and angry. I had really run out of ideas as to how to deal with AA too. On top of this, she is home all day right now for 2 weeks for Easter break. Hubby would come home at night and find me near tears, a rare event indeed, from dealing with both a demanding, fussy, infant and a four year old who argued and was extremely rude and defiant all day.
I finally turned to the internet to find some help or support in how to help my daughter deal with her anger. I happened to come across a page on difficult children. I read through the page on defiance first, but it really didn’t seem to fit my daughter all that well. I moved on to a page on Active Aggressive (AA) children. It was like the heavens opened up with the Hallelujah chorus. That was my daughter – to a T. It was such a relief to not worry that her demeanor was a result of me being a horrible parent. It was a huge sigh of relief. I also found some parenting tips on how to best deal with these types of children, and it has made a night and day difference in my daughter’s behavior. I had some adjustments to make too. It hasn’t been the easiest thing to accept – everyone thinks they know how they should deal with discipline – but sometimes it’s great to have an instruction manual that helps you deal with your type of child. In the past, it had been a constant source of frustration for hubby and I, because we simply ran out of ideas on how to deal with her constant energy and attitude. There really is no professional child person telling you, don’t worry, this method or that method will work, just give it a little time. Instead, we were just growing more and more frustrated as we flipped through ways of dealing with behaviors. It’s kind of sad though. Had I known this information, I could have dealt with some of the stresses in a much more productive manner.
I’ll continue to update you on how it’s going with AA. She’s got a long road ahead of her, but it’s a good one filled with possibilities. I was an AA child myself and I turned out okay. Hopefully her childhood will be even better than mine because her father and I have this info.
Becky
Friday, February 29, 2008
I'm Counting On You
Listening to: Dance of the Cucumber – Veggie Tales
Mood: Tweaking out – guests coming tomorrow.
So I was sitting in the car at a stop light today when my eldest daughter brought forth one of those gems that make you shake your head and thank god you had that 4th martini that resulted in the conception of your child. Erm, Not that I would know anything about these type of things....... Ahem.
I had invited my sister in law over for the weekend with her kids. My eldest daughter (herein referred to as Mrs. Nosy) knew this. In fact, she was informed that unless she was a good girl and helped clean the house – especially her mess – her cousins could not come over. Now obviously, I wouldn’t tell them they couldn’t come if she was bad, but hey, kids don’t figure this out for quite some time. Anyhow, the cable man had come on Monday and needed access to every single freakin closet in my apartment. Living in an apartment, we are at a lack of storage space and all our extra crap is shoved in the closet. We have had all that crap out ever since I had to drag it all out of the closets. Mrs. Nosy’s room also included.
So while we were sitting in the car, Mrs. Nosy informed me, “Mommy, I am really counting on you to clean my room.” I paused for a second and the responded, “Since when do I clean your room?” “No Mommy. All the stuff you took out of the closets. I’m really counting on you. To clean my room up. So my cousins can come over.” I just had to laugh because I have no idea where she learned that phrase.
Mood: Tweaking out – guests coming tomorrow.
So I was sitting in the car at a stop light today when my eldest daughter brought forth one of those gems that make you shake your head and thank god you had that 4th martini that resulted in the conception of your child. Erm, Not that I would know anything about these type of things....... Ahem.
I had invited my sister in law over for the weekend with her kids. My eldest daughter (herein referred to as Mrs. Nosy) knew this. In fact, she was informed that unless she was a good girl and helped clean the house – especially her mess – her cousins could not come over. Now obviously, I wouldn’t tell them they couldn’t come if she was bad, but hey, kids don’t figure this out for quite some time. Anyhow, the cable man had come on Monday and needed access to every single freakin closet in my apartment. Living in an apartment, we are at a lack of storage space and all our extra crap is shoved in the closet. We have had all that crap out ever since I had to drag it all out of the closets. Mrs. Nosy’s room also included.
So while we were sitting in the car, Mrs. Nosy informed me, “Mommy, I am really counting on you to clean my room.” I paused for a second and the responded, “Since when do I clean your room?” “No Mommy. All the stuff you took out of the closets. I’m really counting on you. To clean my room up. So my cousins can come over.” I just had to laugh because I have no idea where she learned that phrase.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Losing Yourself
Listening to: Hermie’s Christmas Movie (A kid’s movie)
Mood: Frazzled
I’m in the middle of one of those days. The kind where all you really want to do is run away and join the circus just to get some sanity back. My 2 month old is practicing her Velcro abilities and exercising her lungs. My 4 year old is her usual psychotic, manic self and wants me to discuss the details of everything we look at. We had to stop at Target today after I got my 4 year old from Preschool . I’m sure you can imagine how taking an hour to obtain paper towels and sinus medication was not my idea of entertainment. I got to thinking in the car, as I was desperately trying to mentally block out the banshee, “I’m hungry. Right. This. Minute.” wail of Peanut in the back seat. I finally determined that I have lost any and all mental powers of concentration and have temporarily lost any sense of self. I remember having this happen with my eldest daughter when she was an infant. I thought it was just because I was 22 and hadn’t really found myself anyhow. It got better as she got a little older and entertained herself by crawling as fast as possible towards anything remotely fun. (read dangerous.) However, Peanut is one of the most difficult babies that I have ever come across. She has taken much more time and energy than her sister ever did. I think it’s a little harder for me this time because I have things I know I want to do. Grown up things, like planning the day, blogging, and learning excel. Trying to do anything but the basics (read breathing) requires some concentration, which between the 2 of my kiddos, I cannot seem to find any of. Eating, getting dressed, and even sleeping has its challenges these days. It has really been hard this time around to lose any sense of self and adult intelligence in favor of wishing my ear drums were stuffed with mashed potatoes so I would not have to listen to screaming and nonstop preschooler chatter. Don’t get me wrong here. I absolutely adore having kids. I love it. I love having a baby in the house. However, I still crave for adult type thought processes and interactions. It keeps you sane. I never planned on being a housewife, not to mention a stay at home mom for as long as I have. In a way, I’ve been blessed. I’ve been able to enjoy both my kids, well, being kids. In another way, it makes you a little crazy. Working on my blogs has been a bit depressing for me lately. I have lost some of my wonderful sense of humor. I lack the concentration to be funny. It just comes out forced and a little desperate. I know that as Peanut gets a little older, my posts will get better. In the mean time, I will subject you to mediocre humor. Hey – at least it won’t make you wish for those mashed potatoes.
Have a great week,
Becky
Mood: Frazzled
I’m in the middle of one of those days. The kind where all you really want to do is run away and join the circus just to get some sanity back. My 2 month old is practicing her Velcro abilities and exercising her lungs. My 4 year old is her usual psychotic, manic self and wants me to discuss the details of everything we look at. We had to stop at Target today after I got my 4 year old from Preschool . I’m sure you can imagine how taking an hour to obtain paper towels and sinus medication was not my idea of entertainment. I got to thinking in the car, as I was desperately trying to mentally block out the banshee, “I’m hungry. Right. This. Minute.” wail of Peanut in the back seat. I finally determined that I have lost any and all mental powers of concentration and have temporarily lost any sense of self. I remember having this happen with my eldest daughter when she was an infant. I thought it was just because I was 22 and hadn’t really found myself anyhow. It got better as she got a little older and entertained herself by crawling as fast as possible towards anything remotely fun. (read dangerous.) However, Peanut is one of the most difficult babies that I have ever come across. She has taken much more time and energy than her sister ever did. I think it’s a little harder for me this time because I have things I know I want to do. Grown up things, like planning the day, blogging, and learning excel. Trying to do anything but the basics (read breathing) requires some concentration, which between the 2 of my kiddos, I cannot seem to find any of. Eating, getting dressed, and even sleeping has its challenges these days. It has really been hard this time around to lose any sense of self and adult intelligence in favor of wishing my ear drums were stuffed with mashed potatoes so I would not have to listen to screaming and nonstop preschooler chatter. Don’t get me wrong here. I absolutely adore having kids. I love it. I love having a baby in the house. However, I still crave for adult type thought processes and interactions. It keeps you sane. I never planned on being a housewife, not to mention a stay at home mom for as long as I have. In a way, I’ve been blessed. I’ve been able to enjoy both my kids, well, being kids. In another way, it makes you a little crazy. Working on my blogs has been a bit depressing for me lately. I have lost some of my wonderful sense of humor. I lack the concentration to be funny. It just comes out forced and a little desperate. I know that as Peanut gets a little older, my posts will get better. In the mean time, I will subject you to mediocre humor. Hey – at least it won’t make you wish for those mashed potatoes.
Have a great week,
Becky
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Parenting: It's Personal
Listening to: Big Poppa – Biggy Smalls
Mood: Relaxed
I feel that we’ve generally landed up in a crazy time to be raising kids. The world is an extremely nutty place and helicopter parents reign supreme as a result. God forbid you give unsolicited advice to anyone, about anything remotely to do with raising kids. I’ve never been a fan of unsolicited advice. As I mentioned in my last blog, it’s a product of how I was raised.
Some of the most heated arguments I’ve ever seen have been between people who are talking about how they raise their kid(s) and how the correct way is to do something. There are lots of different styles of parenting along with the individual flavor every parent brings to the equation. People tend to either follow or go the opposite way of their parents’ child raising philosophy. And let me tell you, when people decide (consciously or not) on their philosophy, they stick to it come hell or high water. In my opinion it’s hard enough for 2 married (or committed) people to agree on how to parent a child. Throw in the parents’ advice, the in laws advice, and a random stranger at the parks advice, and it’s a recipe for trouble.
I guess as parents, we feel that because we know our child best and what we want them to turn out to be, that we know the best way to raise them. As the mother of a very head strong child, I’ve often wondered if what I was doing was the right thing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as guilty of the next guy to swearing by my child philosophy, but on the more frustrating days, I would secretly (and as my spouse can attest – not so secretly) wonder what I was doing wrong. I’m a stay at home mom. I am doing most of the discipline leg work for my kids. As a result, I felt I knew my eldest daughter a little better than my husband and would get extremely frustrated with him when he suggested things I had already tried and deemed not useful or things that I plain knew wouldn’t work on her. It’s almost an emasculating feeling when you think others feel they can care for your child better than you.
Parenting is such a demanding and difficult job. Why do we insist on not listening to others trying to be helpful? Better yet, why can we not be open to different ideas without becoming combative about our methods? So what if Suzie’s mom only uses time outs when you spank your kid? I’m sure they both have merits, why not let it be? If you know Suzie has a similar disposition as your kid, why not discuss with Suzie’s mom what works for her? Other parents should be a resource, not competition.
Becky
Mood: Relaxed
I feel that we’ve generally landed up in a crazy time to be raising kids. The world is an extremely nutty place and helicopter parents reign supreme as a result. God forbid you give unsolicited advice to anyone, about anything remotely to do with raising kids. I’ve never been a fan of unsolicited advice. As I mentioned in my last blog, it’s a product of how I was raised.
Some of the most heated arguments I’ve ever seen have been between people who are talking about how they raise their kid(s) and how the correct way is to do something. There are lots of different styles of parenting along with the individual flavor every parent brings to the equation. People tend to either follow or go the opposite way of their parents’ child raising philosophy. And let me tell you, when people decide (consciously or not) on their philosophy, they stick to it come hell or high water. In my opinion it’s hard enough for 2 married (or committed) people to agree on how to parent a child. Throw in the parents’ advice, the in laws advice, and a random stranger at the parks advice, and it’s a recipe for trouble.
I guess as parents, we feel that because we know our child best and what we want them to turn out to be, that we know the best way to raise them. As the mother of a very head strong child, I’ve often wondered if what I was doing was the right thing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as guilty of the next guy to swearing by my child philosophy, but on the more frustrating days, I would secretly (and as my spouse can attest – not so secretly) wonder what I was doing wrong. I’m a stay at home mom. I am doing most of the discipline leg work for my kids. As a result, I felt I knew my eldest daughter a little better than my husband and would get extremely frustrated with him when he suggested things I had already tried and deemed not useful or things that I plain knew wouldn’t work on her. It’s almost an emasculating feeling when you think others feel they can care for your child better than you.
Parenting is such a demanding and difficult job. Why do we insist on not listening to others trying to be helpful? Better yet, why can we not be open to different ideas without becoming combative about our methods? So what if Suzie’s mom only uses time outs when you spank your kid? I’m sure they both have merits, why not let it be? If you know Suzie has a similar disposition as your kid, why not discuss with Suzie’s mom what works for her? Other parents should be a resource, not competition.
Becky
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Your Mother and You
Listening to: Alice – Smokie
Mood: Tired, but happy
I live in White Plains NY. My mom lives in Kankakee IL, and I hate it. I really wish she lived closer than an airplane flight away. (Hello free babysitting!) However, there are moments when I’m really glad she doesn’t live any closer. Now I really love my mom, but like any parent child relationship, there are moments when she drives me absolutely batty. One of these instances is the way that she can make me feel like a horrible mom for a little, unimportant thing. Like not feeding my eldest child ice cream for every meal. Now usually, it takes a feat of nature to make me question how I do things. I just have a pretty thick skin and don’t much care what other people think. I also usually listen to advice my mom gives. She isn’t the type (and indeed, this runs in the family) to give advice or encouragement very often or unsolicited. However, as happens too often, the minute my mom cut my eldest daughter’s cord and became a grandma, she suffered from amnesia and a loss of parenting common sense. For some reason, when I was younger, it would have made perfect sense to her to make me pick up my own room at 4 years old (or at least do most of it). For some reason, this logic seems to have escaped her. I was raised in a strict household. Perhaps too strict at times, but I like who I am as a result. My family wasn’t well off when I was younger either. I intend to raise my children strictly and to be respectful and thankful for what they have. My mother would never have thought to buy me even half of the ridiculous things that she sends my eldest daughter. Nor would she have let my grandparents get away with such spoilery. I know I shouldn’t compare how I was raised and how my daughters are being raised, but it’s hard for me sometimes to understand how my mom has changed so much. And why she can possibly get me to feel guilty for not buying my daughter everything she could possibly want. I’m going to tell her it’s a result of me never getting that pony that I wanted when I was 7.
Becky
Mood: Tired, but happy
I live in White Plains NY. My mom lives in Kankakee IL, and I hate it. I really wish she lived closer than an airplane flight away. (Hello free babysitting!) However, there are moments when I’m really glad she doesn’t live any closer. Now I really love my mom, but like any parent child relationship, there are moments when she drives me absolutely batty. One of these instances is the way that she can make me feel like a horrible mom for a little, unimportant thing. Like not feeding my eldest child ice cream for every meal. Now usually, it takes a feat of nature to make me question how I do things. I just have a pretty thick skin and don’t much care what other people think. I also usually listen to advice my mom gives. She isn’t the type (and indeed, this runs in the family) to give advice or encouragement very often or unsolicited. However, as happens too often, the minute my mom cut my eldest daughter’s cord and became a grandma, she suffered from amnesia and a loss of parenting common sense. For some reason, when I was younger, it would have made perfect sense to her to make me pick up my own room at 4 years old (or at least do most of it). For some reason, this logic seems to have escaped her. I was raised in a strict household. Perhaps too strict at times, but I like who I am as a result. My family wasn’t well off when I was younger either. I intend to raise my children strictly and to be respectful and thankful for what they have. My mother would never have thought to buy me even half of the ridiculous things that she sends my eldest daughter. Nor would she have let my grandparents get away with such spoilery. I know I shouldn’t compare how I was raised and how my daughters are being raised, but it’s hard for me sometimes to understand how my mom has changed so much. And why she can possibly get me to feel guilty for not buying my daughter everything she could possibly want. I’m going to tell her it’s a result of me never getting that pony that I wanted when I was 7.
Becky
Monday, February 11, 2008
The Bed Space Game
Mood: Edgy/Cranky
Listening To: More than a Feeling – Boston
So as you’ve probably figured out by now, I have 2 little girls, aged 4 and 2 months. As of recent, I noticed we seem to be having a crisis of bed space at our house. Now, this really is not for a lack of beds. We have 2 queen sized beds, one for my husband and I and one for our four year old. We also have a pack and play for the peanut sized daughter. The problem comes when I am nursing my youngest at night or my 4 year old inevitably wanders into my room about 3 in the morning wanting to sleep in our bed. My husband could sleep while a hurricane brought down the apartment around his bed – he couldn’t care less. I, on the other hand, am a much lighter sleeper. I simply cannot sleep with 3 inches on the edge of the bed. I’m just not a 3 inch sized person.
Peanut usually ends up back in her bed (and really could care less) as soon as she’s done eating for fear that one of us will roll over and squish her in the night. (Insert some corny joke about peanut butter here….) The exception to this is if the heater in our room decides to randomly not function and we have to leave her in our bed for fear that we will wake up and find a peanut Popsicle. As a result, I don’t sleep more than 5 minutes at a time because I have to wake up and assure myself that she has not been squished or managed to wedge her face into a pillow.
My older one is somewhat more challenging. She’s a ninja bed space stealer. Since my husband cannot manage to sleep on his side of the bed, he usually doesn’t hear/feel her sneak into the bed because he’s too busy stealing all of my body heat and the covers. Of course she learned long ago that a stealth attack was much more productive than actually asking to sleep with us, because my husband or I would escort her back into her own room with a firm goodnight and a promise to see her in the morning. So around 5 am, when my husband is in a comatose sleep that doesn’t require laying on top of me, he tries to roll back over to his side of the bed, which is now impossible due to the four year old sprawled out spread eagle on his side of the bed. This leads my husband to just shrug in his sleep and continue to use me as a body pillow. Being in the sleep deprived/newborn baby stage that I am in, I don’t even hear her walk in the room. Seriously, someone could walk in my room, rifle through my underwear drawer looking for loot and I’d probably never even figure it out. I’m just too tired to notice if my undies are in order or not.
I’ve considered a few things to help me avoid being left with the 3 inches of bed space, but nothing too practical. If we have to have peanut in bed, there’s really not much to be done about it. I can’t let the poor little adorable thing freeze. I’ve thought of a baby gate too to keep ninja sleeper out, but with her ninja powers, she’d probably just try to jump over it, crash to the floor, scare the crap out of hubby and I and wake peanut. At 3 am. Locking the door is also out of the question because any time ninja sleeper is denied access to either of us, it leads to a meltdown of nuclear proportions, i.e. when I try to use the bathroom by myself. I just don’t have the energy to deal with that at 3 am. Ah well, all the more motivation to lose weight. I’ll never be small enough to only require 3 inches of space, but perhaps I can reach a point where if my ass is hanging off the bed it doesn’t drag the rest of my body with it.
Becky
Listening To: More than a Feeling – Boston
So as you’ve probably figured out by now, I have 2 little girls, aged 4 and 2 months. As of recent, I noticed we seem to be having a crisis of bed space at our house. Now, this really is not for a lack of beds. We have 2 queen sized beds, one for my husband and I and one for our four year old. We also have a pack and play for the peanut sized daughter. The problem comes when I am nursing my youngest at night or my 4 year old inevitably wanders into my room about 3 in the morning wanting to sleep in our bed. My husband could sleep while a hurricane brought down the apartment around his bed – he couldn’t care less. I, on the other hand, am a much lighter sleeper. I simply cannot sleep with 3 inches on the edge of the bed. I’m just not a 3 inch sized person.
Peanut usually ends up back in her bed (and really could care less) as soon as she’s done eating for fear that one of us will roll over and squish her in the night. (Insert some corny joke about peanut butter here….) The exception to this is if the heater in our room decides to randomly not function and we have to leave her in our bed for fear that we will wake up and find a peanut Popsicle. As a result, I don’t sleep more than 5 minutes at a time because I have to wake up and assure myself that she has not been squished or managed to wedge her face into a pillow.
My older one is somewhat more challenging. She’s a ninja bed space stealer. Since my husband cannot manage to sleep on his side of the bed, he usually doesn’t hear/feel her sneak into the bed because he’s too busy stealing all of my body heat and the covers. Of course she learned long ago that a stealth attack was much more productive than actually asking to sleep with us, because my husband or I would escort her back into her own room with a firm goodnight and a promise to see her in the morning. So around 5 am, when my husband is in a comatose sleep that doesn’t require laying on top of me, he tries to roll back over to his side of the bed, which is now impossible due to the four year old sprawled out spread eagle on his side of the bed. This leads my husband to just shrug in his sleep and continue to use me as a body pillow. Being in the sleep deprived/newborn baby stage that I am in, I don’t even hear her walk in the room. Seriously, someone could walk in my room, rifle through my underwear drawer looking for loot and I’d probably never even figure it out. I’m just too tired to notice if my undies are in order or not.
I’ve considered a few things to help me avoid being left with the 3 inches of bed space, but nothing too practical. If we have to have peanut in bed, there’s really not much to be done about it. I can’t let the poor little adorable thing freeze. I’ve thought of a baby gate too to keep ninja sleeper out, but with her ninja powers, she’d probably just try to jump over it, crash to the floor, scare the crap out of hubby and I and wake peanut. At 3 am. Locking the door is also out of the question because any time ninja sleeper is denied access to either of us, it leads to a meltdown of nuclear proportions, i.e. when I try to use the bathroom by myself. I just don’t have the energy to deal with that at 3 am. Ah well, all the more motivation to lose weight. I’ll never be small enough to only require 3 inches of space, but perhaps I can reach a point where if my ass is hanging off the bed it doesn’t drag the rest of my body with it.
Becky
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Noise Level vs Sanity Level
Listening to: Beatles - Penny Lane
Mood: Happy
I have this theory. Well, I have lots of theories, but we’re gonna tackle this one tonight. I have been thinking about how much noise affects your sanity. My theory is that they are inversely proportionate. The noisier it is, the less sane you become. Some types of noise are more harmful than others. Cars honking outside your window is mildly annoying. A four year old with a cowbell in her hand and a song in her heart – induces mild insanity in 3.4 seconds. I have noticed this phenomenon much more as of late because I have 2 vociferous noise makers in my house now. One four year old because, well, she likes being noisy and life is more fun that way. One 2 month old, because, well, she was born with a super set of lungs and an uber fussy temperament and getting her way is just so much easier when she’s screaming. I’ve noticed that the more noise they are producing (i.e. the cowbell and song previously mentioned + a screaming, hungry baby) the more frazzled and insane I feel.
I have never, ever valued absolute silence like I do now. I feel absolutely zen-ish when I have a few minutes of quiet. I can understand now (even though I don’t condone it) why they export noise abuse for terrorists in Iraq. If I was from Iraq and was exposed to ultra loud rap music for hours on end, I would want to gouge my eyes out with rusty nails too.
This becomes especially annoying when I’m trying to work on something that remotely requires an iota of concentration. Both of my daughters (as well as every kid in general) have radar. If I’m working on blogging, talking on the phone, paying bills, etc, that is the exact moment when noise is crucial. It’s some kind of cosmic payback for parents’ ability to know kids are doing something naughty without actually seeing it. The eyes on the back of the head thing. In fact, that is just about the only time when my 4 year old is quiet. She’s either sleeping, or being naughty. It’s a dead giveaway at 3 in the afternoon.
So next time your kid is playing Mozart on the cowbell with a made up song, your baby is screaming, the phone is ringing, the television is on, your spouse is talking to you, and the radio is on for some mysterious reason, go lock yourself in the bathroom for 5 minutes. I promise it will do a world of good for your sanity. Just try your best to ignore the pounding on the door and the screams for mercy from your spouse as your kids take him hostage.
Becky
Mood: Happy
I have this theory. Well, I have lots of theories, but we’re gonna tackle this one tonight. I have been thinking about how much noise affects your sanity. My theory is that they are inversely proportionate. The noisier it is, the less sane you become. Some types of noise are more harmful than others. Cars honking outside your window is mildly annoying. A four year old with a cowbell in her hand and a song in her heart – induces mild insanity in 3.4 seconds. I have noticed this phenomenon much more as of late because I have 2 vociferous noise makers in my house now. One four year old because, well, she likes being noisy and life is more fun that way. One 2 month old, because, well, she was born with a super set of lungs and an uber fussy temperament and getting her way is just so much easier when she’s screaming. I’ve noticed that the more noise they are producing (i.e. the cowbell and song previously mentioned + a screaming, hungry baby) the more frazzled and insane I feel.
I have never, ever valued absolute silence like I do now. I feel absolutely zen-ish when I have a few minutes of quiet. I can understand now (even though I don’t condone it) why they export noise abuse for terrorists in Iraq. If I was from Iraq and was exposed to ultra loud rap music for hours on end, I would want to gouge my eyes out with rusty nails too.
This becomes especially annoying when I’m trying to work on something that remotely requires an iota of concentration. Both of my daughters (as well as every kid in general) have radar. If I’m working on blogging, talking on the phone, paying bills, etc, that is the exact moment when noise is crucial. It’s some kind of cosmic payback for parents’ ability to know kids are doing something naughty without actually seeing it. The eyes on the back of the head thing. In fact, that is just about the only time when my 4 year old is quiet. She’s either sleeping, or being naughty. It’s a dead giveaway at 3 in the afternoon.
So next time your kid is playing Mozart on the cowbell with a made up song, your baby is screaming, the phone is ringing, the television is on, your spouse is talking to you, and the radio is on for some mysterious reason, go lock yourself in the bathroom for 5 minutes. I promise it will do a world of good for your sanity. Just try your best to ignore the pounding on the door and the screams for mercy from your spouse as your kids take him hostage.
Becky
Monday, February 4, 2008
I'm Bored
Listening to: Dilbera
Mood: Calm
Those two words have been the bane of parents since, well, since we stopped using children as free labor on farms. I remember driving my mother nuts with these two words and now the sins of the father (or rather the mother in this case) have returned to the son (er, daughter). I always cringe when I hear this. It means that I get to be either a detective and guess what she wants to do or a circus ring master and actually entertain her. Usually, I groan internally when I hear this chant because it means that my daughter wants entertainment of the glowing electronic variety. A parent can only take so many candy colored characters on Noggin. Especially Moose A Moose and Z. I can remember being bored as a kid, but it still baffles me how a 4 year old with tons of stuff in her room can be at a loss for something interesting to do. At least only one of my children can complain of boredom, at least for 2 more years. Right now she tends to just scream. I try to help her find things to do, like go to the park or library, but I’m not a ringmaster. I’m a juggler.
Becky
Mood: Calm
Those two words have been the bane of parents since, well, since we stopped using children as free labor on farms. I remember driving my mother nuts with these two words and now the sins of the father (or rather the mother in this case) have returned to the son (er, daughter). I always cringe when I hear this. It means that I get to be either a detective and guess what she wants to do or a circus ring master and actually entertain her. Usually, I groan internally when I hear this chant because it means that my daughter wants entertainment of the glowing electronic variety. A parent can only take so many candy colored characters on Noggin. Especially Moose A Moose and Z. I can remember being bored as a kid, but it still baffles me how a 4 year old with tons of stuff in her room can be at a loss for something interesting to do. At least only one of my children can complain of boredom, at least for 2 more years. Right now she tends to just scream. I try to help her find things to do, like go to the park or library, but I’m not a ringmaster. I’m a juggler.
Becky
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
She's an Uptown Girl
Listening to: November Rain - Guns N Roses
Mood: Calm
Just wanted to share with you a cute thing my 4 year old daughter told me the other day. We were havng a girly moment painting our nails. Being the princess wannabe that she is, my daughter chose bubblegum pink with sparkles for her fingernails. After I was done painting them, she informed me that she lookes "fisticated". I asked her what she meant and we figured out that she meant sophisticated. I couldn't help but wonder where she heard that word and it's meaning. She never fails to surprise me.
Becky
Mood: Calm
Just wanted to share with you a cute thing my 4 year old daughter told me the other day. We were havng a girly moment painting our nails. Being the princess wannabe that she is, my daughter chose bubblegum pink with sparkles for her fingernails. After I was done painting them, she informed me that she lookes "fisticated". I asked her what she meant and we figured out that she meant sophisticated. I couldn't help but wonder where she heard that word and it's meaning. She never fails to surprise me.
Becky
Monday, January 21, 2008
Car Seat Trolls
I’m sure that everyone has heard of the sock gnomes. They are the little guys who run around like Robin Hood and steal single socks out of the dryer. What they do with these single socks has remained a mystery, as well as why they insist upon driving mothers around the world mad. I just recently met a close relative of the sock gnomes. Please welcome – the Car seat troll. Like sock gnomes, these little buggers are never actually seen. Everyone with at least 1 child has one that lives under the seats of your car. While you’re driving, he goes in the back seat and tightens your child(ren)’s seatbelt so that it’s almost impossible to buckle him or her into their car seat without squishing them like play dough the next time you want to go out. You may or may not have one living in your home too. Exactly why they do this is unknown. I thought it was my 4 year old just being stubborn. She is in a car seat where she can tighten her own seatbelt, but not loosen it. (Someone smack the designers with a sock full of crack . Seriously, what were you thinking leaving something in the reach of a 4 year old that they can and will monkey with?!) Then, my 6 week old started having this happen also. There is no way that she can reach the straps behind her car seat. Nor can her squirmy older sister. Yet her car seat consistently gets tighter also. Which leads me to suspect the car seat trolls. Watch out - they'll drive you just as batty as the sock gnomes.
Becky
Becky
Friday, January 18, 2008
Welcome to Guarding the Couches
Hi,
I'm Becky and you've landed up in Guarding the Couches land. This is my blog for writing about everything absurd that I have happen with my kids. I'm the proud mom of 2 little girls, aged 4 and 1 month. I've named this blog as such because I got new couches last summer and am always trying to guard them from being destroyed by my kids. As anyone with kids knows, this is damn near impossible. We already have some yogurt and pen stains to prove it. In the process, I'm afraid I've turned into my own mom. (Get away from your sister with that marker!)
I've been blogging about all manner of things on Yahoo 360 for 2 years now. If you want to check out my previous writing or more about me, see: http://360.yahoo.com/profile-h6VVLvEjfKeRs37GCw2TsX6YAeY-?cq=1
I also have a political blog at: http://becky-politicalrants.blogspot.com/ and a personal blog at: http://beckyispassingthrough.blogspot.com/.
If you haven't guessed, this is a mommy blog. If you don't like reading about other people's kids, this probably isn't for you. I welcome comments, as long as they're kind. Thanks for stopping by!
Becky
I'm Becky and you've landed up in Guarding the Couches land. This is my blog for writing about everything absurd that I have happen with my kids. I'm the proud mom of 2 little girls, aged 4 and 1 month. I've named this blog as such because I got new couches last summer and am always trying to guard them from being destroyed by my kids. As anyone with kids knows, this is damn near impossible. We already have some yogurt and pen stains to prove it. In the process, I'm afraid I've turned into my own mom. (Get away from your sister with that marker!)
I've been blogging about all manner of things on Yahoo 360 for 2 years now. If you want to check out my previous writing or more about me, see: http://360.yahoo.com/profile-h6VVLvEjfKeRs37GCw2TsX6YAeY-?cq=1
I also have a political blog at: http://becky-politicalrants.blogspot.com/ and a personal blog at: http://beckyispassingthrough.blogspot.com/.
If you haven't guessed, this is a mommy blog. If you don't like reading about other people's kids, this probably isn't for you. I welcome comments, as long as they're kind. Thanks for stopping by!
Becky
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