Video tape your child dancing and post it on www.facebook.com/tampabayparentingmagazine and be entered to win tickets to Yo Gabba Gabba and the chance to meet the cast!
Yo Gabba Gabba Live is at the St. Pete Times Forum on October 30th at 2pm & 5pm!
Please keep the videos to less than 60 seconds. Videos must be posted by October 20th to be entered to win. Winners will be announced by October 25th.
Our Cover Kid Search ends October 15th so hurry and enter before then at www.tbparenting.com
Monday, September 27, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Married to MacGyver
When I was given the opportunity to take this blogging gig a little more public, the family had some rules. I can't use their real names and there were certain topics off limits. Understood. I came up with a nickname for hubs--and it's totally appropriate. I married MacGyver. We joke that he could take gum and a paperclip and fix anything. This story actually happened in 2008 but it's a good way to introduce MacGyver. (If you've followed my personal blog for the past year or 2, you'll remember this.)
Since April 1995, a service repair technician has never entered our residence. Since that time frame is essentially my entire adult life, I don't think I was always aware of the oddity of it. Things are always breaking. The car, the plumbing, appliances, a piece of jewelry. It's life. But, MacGyver inherited this gene from his father. It is called the "I'm not too proud to pay someone to fix it, but I am too proud to admit that I couldn't fix it" gene.
I remember wanting a new stove. And it FINALLY stopped working! I was doing the "I get to make a big purchase" dance. But there he stood.....stopping me. Calming me down with the "I've got this" look. After making a few phone calls, he said "Hon, it is just the heating element. Go pick one up." Sixteen measly dollars and a gold mine gene pool discarded my dreams of getting the new "boil water in 60 seconds" stove. So, there are drawbacks. But there is money saved. And then---then there are just plain old Jeff Foxworthy moments.
Friday night we smelled fire. We figured out it was coming from the dryer. (Seriously, I have wanted a new washer and dryer since seeing an episode of Extreme home makeover...so my feet are starting to do the dance. Surely MacGyver can't repair it after a fire??!!) He spends some time with his BFF, Google, and finds out what is wrong with it. He then proceeds to inform me that he found the parts online for like $13. UGH! But, they won't be here until Wednesday. We have 3 kids and I'll be inundated with laundry if I wait 5 days. (I was being dramatic. Over selling it. Unfortunately, I can rarely get MacGyver to buy what I'm selling---especially when it comes to me getting a break on house work.) I tell him I need a dryer ASAP! We just can't wait. (At this point, I am still just hoping for the shopping approval.) He gives a blank stare......................still staring......................and BAM! He takes off. This is the moment even my feet start to sense the shopping dance should come to an end.
He is in the garage cutting one of those mini sized skate boards. I used to laugh at him, but not anymore. I learned long ago (probably 1998) that everything can be repaired. The dryer bearings went bad and the drum could no longer turn. It didn't have any support. HE PLACED THE FLIPPIN' SKATEBOARD UNDER THE DRUM TO SUPPORT IT!!!!! So, now, not only does it work, it supports a heavier load! LMAO I still want a new washer & dryer.
I can hear Jeff Foxworthy saying it now. "If yeeeeew have yer dryer rigged with a skateboard.......you miiiiiiiiiight be a redneck." Don't get me wrong. I completely adore MacGyver. But, momma would really like to go into Sears and actually buy the appliance. Not the wrench to fix the old one. I also know that we save enough money to make it worth it. And that's a good thing. Especially when we have to run out and replace the kids skateboards. ;)
That's just how I see it. But maybe it's my misperception.
For your entertainment, and for those that may think I just have a wild imagination, I am adding a picture of my new GE Profile Tony Hawk edition dryer. ;)
Since April 1995, a service repair technician has never entered our residence. Since that time frame is essentially my entire adult life, I don't think I was always aware of the oddity of it. Things are always breaking. The car, the plumbing, appliances, a piece of jewelry. It's life. But, MacGyver inherited this gene from his father. It is called the "I'm not too proud to pay someone to fix it, but I am too proud to admit that I couldn't fix it" gene.
I remember wanting a new stove. And it FINALLY stopped working! I was doing the "I get to make a big purchase" dance. But there he stood.....stopping me. Calming me down with the "I've got this" look. After making a few phone calls, he said "Hon, it is just the heating element. Go pick one up." Sixteen measly dollars and a gold mine gene pool discarded my dreams of getting the new "boil water in 60 seconds" stove. So, there are drawbacks. But there is money saved. And then---then there are just plain old Jeff Foxworthy moments.
Friday night we smelled fire. We figured out it was coming from the dryer. (Seriously, I have wanted a new washer and dryer since seeing an episode of Extreme home makeover...so my feet are starting to do the dance. Surely MacGyver can't repair it after a fire??!!) He spends some time with his BFF, Google, and finds out what is wrong with it. He then proceeds to inform me that he found the parts online for like $13. UGH! But, they won't be here until Wednesday. We have 3 kids and I'll be inundated with laundry if I wait 5 days. (I was being dramatic. Over selling it. Unfortunately, I can rarely get MacGyver to buy what I'm selling---especially when it comes to me getting a break on house work.) I tell him I need a dryer ASAP! We just can't wait. (At this point, I am still just hoping for the shopping approval.) He gives a blank stare......................still staring......................and BAM! He takes off. This is the moment even my feet start to sense the shopping dance should come to an end.
He is in the garage cutting one of those mini sized skate boards. I used to laugh at him, but not anymore. I learned long ago (probably 1998) that everything can be repaired. The dryer bearings went bad and the drum could no longer turn. It didn't have any support. HE PLACED THE FLIPPIN' SKATEBOARD UNDER THE DRUM TO SUPPORT IT!!!!! So, now, not only does it work, it supports a heavier load! LMAO I still want a new washer & dryer.
I can hear Jeff Foxworthy saying it now. "If yeeeeew have yer dryer rigged with a skateboard.......you miiiiiiiiiight be a redneck." Don't get me wrong. I completely adore MacGyver. But, momma would really like to go into Sears and actually buy the appliance. Not the wrench to fix the old one. I also know that we save enough money to make it worth it. And that's a good thing. Especially when we have to run out and replace the kids skateboards. ;)
That's just how I see it. But maybe it's my misperception.
For your entertainment, and for those that may think I just have a wild imagination, I am adding a picture of my new GE Profile Tony Hawk edition dryer. ;)
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Monday, September 20, 2010
Diapers, Formula & Terrible Twos
I remember being pregnant with my first born in 1995. I was a naïve, know it all 18 year old with the personality of chicken little. If anyone said anything to me, not only must it be true---it could’ve been the end of the world as I knew it. There were several things I kept hearing repetitively.
1. The cost of diapers & formula was going to deplete my savings. (At 18, I think I had a whopping $2.38 in there anyway.)
2. Selecting which diapers and formula to use was going make me insane.
3. The terrible twos would ultimately be the death of me.
How could all of these seemingly pleasant women be so jaded by motherhood? What happened to them to make them not appreciate their rambunctious, disagreeable, perpetually crying children? (That’s how I saw them at 18. Remember before you had kids? Your kids were not going to do ANY of that stuff?) Fast forward 15 years later. I think I have come to the conclusion that those women didn’t have teenagers. They must have been directly in the middle of the toddler whirlwind and had not a clue of what was to come.
I have 3 kids. B is in High School, K is in Middle and Zippy is in Elementary. Talk about perspective. I remember thinking that removing an entire tube of Desitin from the carpet was the most difficult thing I’d ever have to do. Now, I have B asking if he can ride in a car with a 16 year old. (I’m grateful that he understands when I tell him “No”, but I’m aware that a “Yes” is not too far in the future.) He tells me how many times he has been offered drugs and that he has declined every time. (I am also grateful that he willingly agrees to be randomly drug tested. Not that it matters. I would do it anyway.) My middle school child, K, shares a plethora of information about the activities of kids her age. (It’s hard to hear some of it, but I would rather be in the know. I don’t want to be the parent that’s in a bubble thinking their kid would never do such a thing.) The closer it gets to the weekend, the more they love me. I get the hugs, compliments and last minute attempts at chores so they can withdraw money from the mother of all ATM’s. They turn the charm on pretty heavy. "Mom, what did you do to your hair to make it look sooooooo amazing?" "Have you lost more weight since last weigh in? You are looking skin-nay!" Sadly, it works. Football games, skating, clothes, money for food, money to shop. If you survived the cost of diapers, the field trips alone will give you a heart attack. It used to be a $12 afternoon trip to an IMAX 3D movie. Now it’s $70 for a full day of Epcot or Sea World. (And that doesn’t include a $20 light saber that they can taunt their younger sibling with and constantly remind them that their field trips are lame.)
I had friends, family and complete strangers sharing garbage bags full of baby & toddler clothes, leftover diapers that were too small and toys that were no longer played with. No one is sending me bags full of Abercrombie Jeans, Hollister shirts and a deposit on a $400 class ring. (Some of you will interpret that as my expectation. Not so. It’s just a comparison of the different times in life.)
Don’t mistake this for complaining. This is more of a realization. It's also to share information with people that are just starting out. (I don't know if they'll listen. I'm not sure I would have listened. But at least you can't say that no one ever told you.) There are many good things that come out of having a teenager. In fact, I prefer this part of motherhood more than I did the younger years. (And it wasn’t because of diapers and formula. The Desitin incident---maybe.) These are the years where I feel our relationship is more of a choice on their part. And to have them still wanting to associate with me is a tremendous win. I can instantly see whether or not everything we tried to instill in them actually sank in. I am watching these former little people grow into early adults. Like it or not, once they hit High School, your job is almost done. Sure, you still need to supervise and keep things in line. But, this is the time that they start putting what you taught them into practice. This is the time you start doing more listening than talking. You also start perfecting your skills as a private detective.
Regardless of what age your kids are, enjoy it. It sounds cliché, but it’s true. Each phase brings new problems. Don’t stress about the house being dirty. Don’t fret over the stain on the new outfit. Let the toy stay buried at the bottom of the toy box even though it has a perfect spot on the shelf. This is the time to be building that foundation and giving your kids what they need to thrive and succeed later---when they won’t listen to you. But, if you’ve done your job, they’ll still hear you. You'll be that voice talking to them.
Whether you are in the diapers & formula phase, or the drivers license & dating phase, you’ll get through it. It's not easy. You only get one chance though. And it truly is as much of a learning experience for you as it is for them.
That's just how I see it. But maybe it's my misperception.
1. The cost of diapers & formula was going to deplete my savings. (At 18, I think I had a whopping $2.38 in there anyway.)
2. Selecting which diapers and formula to use was going make me insane.
3. The terrible twos would ultimately be the death of me.
How could all of these seemingly pleasant women be so jaded by motherhood? What happened to them to make them not appreciate their rambunctious, disagreeable, perpetually crying children? (That’s how I saw them at 18. Remember before you had kids? Your kids were not going to do ANY of that stuff?) Fast forward 15 years later. I think I have come to the conclusion that those women didn’t have teenagers. They must have been directly in the middle of the toddler whirlwind and had not a clue of what was to come.
I have 3 kids. B is in High School, K is in Middle and Zippy is in Elementary. Talk about perspective. I remember thinking that removing an entire tube of Desitin from the carpet was the most difficult thing I’d ever have to do. Now, I have B asking if he can ride in a car with a 16 year old. (I’m grateful that he understands when I tell him “No”, but I’m aware that a “Yes” is not too far in the future.) He tells me how many times he has been offered drugs and that he has declined every time. (I am also grateful that he willingly agrees to be randomly drug tested. Not that it matters. I would do it anyway.) My middle school child, K, shares a plethora of information about the activities of kids her age. (It’s hard to hear some of it, but I would rather be in the know. I don’t want to be the parent that’s in a bubble thinking their kid would never do such a thing.) The closer it gets to the weekend, the more they love me. I get the hugs, compliments and last minute attempts at chores so they can withdraw money from the mother of all ATM’s. They turn the charm on pretty heavy. "Mom, what did you do to your hair to make it look sooooooo amazing?" "Have you lost more weight since last weigh in? You are looking skin-nay!" Sadly, it works. Football games, skating, clothes, money for food, money to shop. If you survived the cost of diapers, the field trips alone will give you a heart attack. It used to be a $12 afternoon trip to an IMAX 3D movie. Now it’s $70 for a full day of Epcot or Sea World. (And that doesn’t include a $20 light saber that they can taunt their younger sibling with and constantly remind them that their field trips are lame.)
I had friends, family and complete strangers sharing garbage bags full of baby & toddler clothes, leftover diapers that were too small and toys that were no longer played with. No one is sending me bags full of Abercrombie Jeans, Hollister shirts and a deposit on a $400 class ring. (Some of you will interpret that as my expectation. Not so. It’s just a comparison of the different times in life.)
Don’t mistake this for complaining. This is more of a realization. It's also to share information with people that are just starting out. (I don't know if they'll listen. I'm not sure I would have listened. But at least you can't say that no one ever told you.) There are many good things that come out of having a teenager. In fact, I prefer this part of motherhood more than I did the younger years. (And it wasn’t because of diapers and formula. The Desitin incident---maybe.) These are the years where I feel our relationship is more of a choice on their part. And to have them still wanting to associate with me is a tremendous win. I can instantly see whether or not everything we tried to instill in them actually sank in. I am watching these former little people grow into early adults. Like it or not, once they hit High School, your job is almost done. Sure, you still need to supervise and keep things in line. But, this is the time that they start putting what you taught them into practice. This is the time you start doing more listening than talking. You also start perfecting your skills as a private detective.
Regardless of what age your kids are, enjoy it. It sounds cliché, but it’s true. Each phase brings new problems. Don’t stress about the house being dirty. Don’t fret over the stain on the new outfit. Let the toy stay buried at the bottom of the toy box even though it has a perfect spot on the shelf. This is the time to be building that foundation and giving your kids what they need to thrive and succeed later---when they won’t listen to you. But, if you’ve done your job, they’ll still hear you. You'll be that voice talking to them.
Whether you are in the diapers & formula phase, or the drivers license & dating phase, you’ll get through it. It's not easy. You only get one chance though. And it truly is as much of a learning experience for you as it is for them.
That's just how I see it. But maybe it's my misperception.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Why Does She Work Out? She's skinny!
I know you don't get the title. But I know it sucked you in! And you'll learn how I work--I will tie it in by the end!
I ran into someone recently. I had not physically seen this person in a long time. We are "friends" on Facebook. We chatted a little and when I asked how she was doing, she said "Not as good as you, but I am holding my own." Whoah! Beep! Beep! Beep! Back up! I asked her "Why on earth would you say THAT?" She proceeded to tell me how it appears as if my life is all together. Her tone was as if she were standing outside my porch and looking into this whirlwind tunnel of bliss that is feeding me happiness through an IV. Beep! Beep! Beep! Let's back up again. Back up to earlier this morning when I was fumbling through several pairs of shorts on the floor, trying to find the least dirty ones because I have been too busy to do laundry. I put my hair up in a pony tail (because I have to...you know...that too many days without washing thing again) and start to think. Slowly, those negative things start lining up, single file, beginning to march in like a row of ants.
The screen on the porch is ripped again from Baby (my Jack Russell Terrier) trying to eat a cat that intentionally inflicts pain on my dogs by sunbathing on the swing set directly outside the patio.
The roof has a slight, but existent leak.
My car is now a 1999 Ford Conversion van that I LUH-VED when I got it because I was only 23 and I thought it was cool. Now, being 34, I feel too close to the time in my life when I should be driving a vehicle like that and I'm not that fond of it.
The insurance company sent a letter telling us basically to remove ALL branches from over our house or we will be cancelled. If you have been to my house, you know this means that essentially the whole tree must be cut down. I love this tree! I dread pollen season because the algae decides to take residence of my entire driveway and walkway. This leads to me almost busting my arse on a regular basis. However, it's a small price to pay for having a ridiculously low electric bill.
I started to think about how I painted the kitchen a gorgeous yellow, with a faux finish like Olive Garden. Sounds great, right? Well, we started remodeling 2 (That's TWO) years ago. I got tired of it looking like that...got tired of wishing Ty Pennington was going to come here and do...............the kitchen. I was ONLY going to say the KITCHEN! Focus, people, focus! Well, I painted over the drywall mud. Yep. One wall looks like a Mexican cantina with plaster & paint. But you know what? It looks better than it did and I actually have considered slathering some plaster on the other walls and painting it. I kinda like it!
Anyway, these thoughts started to come faster and faster and began to multiply. I had to shut it off. It's a choice, and it is a gift to be able to do so. I know this.
Fast forward to this woman telling me all of this. I started to consider that maybe I post too much happy. Too much positive. Too much kumbaya. I didn't specifically combat anything she said to me. I just told her things are never as they appear. (If I had a nickel for every time I said that, I could buy Donald Trump.) But, when I left her, I really started to concentrate on my impact on other people. I decided I wanted to clarify something. I thought of an analogy. You'll also learn how much I love a good analogy, people! :)
Do you ever see someone in really good shape exercising? Someone with a great body running or working out? Are you guilty of saying "Why does SHE work out? She looks great?!!" Have you ever stopped to think that it is BECAUSE she works out that she is skinny? I used to sit on the couch, with my bucket o' ice cream and a spoon and say those things about people working out. THAT'S how it works. Those that NEED to lose weight, can't get to where we need to be. We just envy those that do and wonder why they work so hard at it! It's work! It's effort! It's a choice! Those that read my positive message and happy blurbs might think "What is there to be so happy about?" or "I want to have what she has.....she seems so happy." I think everyone should know that my positive energy and my happy thoughts are MY WORKOUT. If I didn't do that, I would sulk in misery. I would be reminded of the roof, the car, the screen porch......my dirty laundry piling up. (Ok, maybe I NEED a reminder for that!) There will always be a to-do or a to-fix list. Being bummed out won't change that. There really is more to be happy about than there is to be sad about. The problem is it is easier to dwell on the sad things. And they cause more trouble. It's a cycle. You just have to drown them with happiness. My thoughts are work. They are effort. It's my choice. What's yours?
That's just how I see it. But maybe it's my misperception.
I ran into someone recently. I had not physically seen this person in a long time. We are "friends" on Facebook. We chatted a little and when I asked how she was doing, she said "Not as good as you, but I am holding my own." Whoah! Beep! Beep! Beep! Back up! I asked her "Why on earth would you say THAT?" She proceeded to tell me how it appears as if my life is all together. Her tone was as if she were standing outside my porch and looking into this whirlwind tunnel of bliss that is feeding me happiness through an IV. Beep! Beep! Beep! Let's back up again. Back up to earlier this morning when I was fumbling through several pairs of shorts on the floor, trying to find the least dirty ones because I have been too busy to do laundry. I put my hair up in a pony tail (because I have to...you know...that too many days without washing thing again) and start to think. Slowly, those negative things start lining up, single file, beginning to march in like a row of ants.
The screen on the porch is ripped again from Baby (my Jack Russell Terrier) trying to eat a cat that intentionally inflicts pain on my dogs by sunbathing on the swing set directly outside the patio.
The roof has a slight, but existent leak.
My car is now a 1999 Ford Conversion van that I LUH-VED when I got it because I was only 23 and I thought it was cool. Now, being 34, I feel too close to the time in my life when I should be driving a vehicle like that and I'm not that fond of it.
The insurance company sent a letter telling us basically to remove ALL branches from over our house or we will be cancelled. If you have been to my house, you know this means that essentially the whole tree must be cut down. I love this tree! I dread pollen season because the algae decides to take residence of my entire driveway and walkway. This leads to me almost busting my arse on a regular basis. However, it's a small price to pay for having a ridiculously low electric bill.
I started to think about how I painted the kitchen a gorgeous yellow, with a faux finish like Olive Garden. Sounds great, right? Well, we started remodeling 2 (That's TWO) years ago. I got tired of it looking like that...got tired of wishing Ty Pennington was going to come here and do...............the kitchen. I was ONLY going to say the KITCHEN! Focus, people, focus! Well, I painted over the drywall mud. Yep. One wall looks like a Mexican cantina with plaster & paint. But you know what? It looks better than it did and I actually have considered slathering some plaster on the other walls and painting it. I kinda like it!
Anyway, these thoughts started to come faster and faster and began to multiply. I had to shut it off. It's a choice, and it is a gift to be able to do so. I know this.
Fast forward to this woman telling me all of this. I started to consider that maybe I post too much happy. Too much positive. Too much kumbaya. I didn't specifically combat anything she said to me. I just told her things are never as they appear. (If I had a nickel for every time I said that, I could buy Donald Trump.) But, when I left her, I really started to concentrate on my impact on other people. I decided I wanted to clarify something. I thought of an analogy. You'll also learn how much I love a good analogy, people! :)
Do you ever see someone in really good shape exercising? Someone with a great body running or working out? Are you guilty of saying "Why does SHE work out? She looks great?!!" Have you ever stopped to think that it is BECAUSE she works out that she is skinny? I used to sit on the couch, with my bucket o' ice cream and a spoon and say those things about people working out. THAT'S how it works. Those that NEED to lose weight, can't get to where we need to be. We just envy those that do and wonder why they work so hard at it! It's work! It's effort! It's a choice! Those that read my positive message and happy blurbs might think "What is there to be so happy about?" or "I want to have what she has.....she seems so happy." I think everyone should know that my positive energy and my happy thoughts are MY WORKOUT. If I didn't do that, I would sulk in misery. I would be reminded of the roof, the car, the screen porch......my dirty laundry piling up. (Ok, maybe I NEED a reminder for that!) There will always be a to-do or a to-fix list. Being bummed out won't change that. There really is more to be happy about than there is to be sad about. The problem is it is easier to dwell on the sad things. And they cause more trouble. It's a cycle. You just have to drown them with happiness. My thoughts are work. They are effort. It's my choice. What's yours?
That's just how I see it. But maybe it's my misperception.
A Conversation Gone Bad
I never know where a question will lead or how bad it will end. And this conversation was no exception.
M: is me, Z: is Zippy.
Z: "When do you die?"
M: "When you get old." (Where is this going?)
Z: "How old? Old OLD or just old?"
M: "Really old." (Wanting this conversation to be over, but knowing it has just begun!)
Z: "Like when your skin looks like mine after playing in the bathtub for a long time?"
M: "Yes."
Z: "Am I going to die?"
M: (ARGH!) "Yes, a long, long, long time from now."
Z: "What if we have an accident in the car."
M: "I'm very careful."
Z: "Even while you are typing on the phone and driving?"
M: (Crap! I really have to stop doing that. I'm signing Oprah's No Phone Zone pledge.) "That's bad. Mommy won't do that anymore."
Z: "Good. Because if you do, we could die and our skin won't be old."
M: (Is this over yet?)
Z: "But wait. If everyone dies when they get old, I am the youngest one in the house. I am going to be here all alone." (He is now crying.)
M: (I hug him.) "You know how daddy and I are married and have kids? We have our own house and family. When gramma dies (Yes, I see the error now, thank you.) I wont be home alone. I am here with you. See. You will have your own family."
Z: "Gramma is going to die!? Oh nooooooooo!" (Sobbing uncontrollably)
M: "Sweetie, you don't have to worry about this. Nothing is going to happen."
Z: "Ok. But I don't want to die alone. I want to have a dog."
M: (What the ……..?) "Ok. Get a dog."
Z: "Ok, I will!" (He said this very calm and serious.)
Long pause. I can see the thought coming……………….and here it goes.
Z: "OH NOOOOOOO! (crying again.) "I wont have a car and I will be all alone and I don't know where PetCo is! I won't be able to get a dog!"
M: (I'm thinking…..knowing he loves French Toast Sticks.) Hey, I got French Toast at the store yesterday.
Z: "YOU DID? YAY!"
It's finally over! That wiped me out. I can have just about any conversation with any of the kids. But, conversations about death when they are young inevitably require me to emotionally scar my kid or lie. I opt for the lie. Maybe I do it more for myself. Either way, I was just glad french toast came to my rescue.
That's just how I see it. But maybe it's my misperception.
M: is me, Z: is Zippy.
Z: "When do you die?"
M: "When you get old." (Where is this going?)
Z: "How old? Old OLD or just old?"
M: "Really old." (Wanting this conversation to be over, but knowing it has just begun!)
Z: "Like when your skin looks like mine after playing in the bathtub for a long time?"
M: "Yes."
Z: "Am I going to die?"
M: (ARGH!) "Yes, a long, long, long time from now."
Z: "What if we have an accident in the car."
M: "I'm very careful."
Z: "Even while you are typing on the phone and driving?"
M: (Crap! I really have to stop doing that. I'm signing Oprah's No Phone Zone pledge.) "That's bad. Mommy won't do that anymore."
Z: "Good. Because if you do, we could die and our skin won't be old."
M: (Is this over yet?)
Z: "But wait. If everyone dies when they get old, I am the youngest one in the house. I am going to be here all alone." (He is now crying.)
M: (I hug him.) "You know how daddy and I are married and have kids? We have our own house and family. When gramma dies (Yes, I see the error now, thank you.) I wont be home alone. I am here with you. See. You will have your own family."
Z: "Gramma is going to die!? Oh nooooooooo!" (Sobbing uncontrollably)
M: "Sweetie, you don't have to worry about this. Nothing is going to happen."
Z: "Ok. But I don't want to die alone. I want to have a dog."
M: (What the ……..?) "Ok. Get a dog."
Z: "Ok, I will!" (He said this very calm and serious.)
Long pause. I can see the thought coming……………….and here it goes.
Z: "OH NOOOOOOO! (crying again.) "I wont have a car and I will be all alone and I don't know where PetCo is! I won't be able to get a dog!"
M: (I'm thinking…..knowing he loves French Toast Sticks.) Hey, I got French Toast at the store yesterday.
Z: "YOU DID? YAY!"
It's finally over! That wiped me out. I can have just about any conversation with any of the kids. But, conversations about death when they are young inevitably require me to emotionally scar my kid or lie. I opt for the lie. Maybe I do it more for myself. Either way, I was just glad french toast came to my rescue.
That's just how I see it. But maybe it's my misperception.
The baby of the family
I have been told for years that the "baby" of the family is the baby whether they are 6 months old or 18. In my experience, this meant that the baby got away with more than the other kids. I was pretty adamant early on that the baby of our family would be treated no differently. (Kind of just like I said that my 2 year old would not throw any temper tantrums & my teens won't ever roll their eyes.) When you have more than one child, you know how different they can be. Each personality has their own spark. My baby of the family, "Zippy", is 7. He is the smooth talking charmer with dimples. He is also my logical thinker. He can make me angry, laugh & cry at the same time.
He was in the backyard playing on the trampoline. It gets very dirty so I am always loudly explaining (True meaning: Yelling. Don't judge.) that he shouldn't wear his socks. I also loudly explain that he has to wash off before sitting on the furniture. (I am no cleaning fanatic, but this kid could make mud out of sand and water.) When I looked outside, I saw my new sweeper vacuum sitting in the dirt. Without hesitation, I begin yel---ahem, loudly explaining to him he can't bring that outside. He looks at me, tilts his head and gives me the 'I-know-you-are-mad-at-me-but-I-am-your-baby-and-I-make-you-angry-laugh-and-cry-at-the-same-time-and-you-love-how-adorable-I-am' smile. He says, in his best smooth talking, logical thinking voice "Well, you told me that the trampoline is always dirty so I get too dirty while playing on it. You clean the floor when it gets dirty, right? I thought that if I vacuumed the trampoline, it would stay clean and I would not have to take a bath. (Why is bath water like kryptonite to some kids? You'd think the bath tub was going to taser him.) And you would be happy that I cleaned something for you." Seriously? I would be thrilled if he would flush the toilet. I might spontaneously combust if he picked up the cheetos in between the couch cushions. I want to be mad. Very mad. But after all, he is my baby that makes me angry, laugh and cry all at the same time and I love how adorable he is. All of my toddlers had temper tantrums, my tween and teen roll their eyes, and my baby is the baby. So much for breaking cycles. ;)
But, when I compare a vacuum and a little dirt to the scenarios the middle schooler & high schooler bring to me, I realize I can relax. I've learned to choose my battles wisely. Everything is relative. And he was trying to help......sorta.
That's just how I see it. But maybe it's my misperception.
He was in the backyard playing on the trampoline. It gets very dirty so I am always loudly explaining (True meaning: Yelling. Don't judge.) that he shouldn't wear his socks. I also loudly explain that he has to wash off before sitting on the furniture. (I am no cleaning fanatic, but this kid could make mud out of sand and water.) When I looked outside, I saw my new sweeper vacuum sitting in the dirt. Without hesitation, I begin yel---ahem, loudly explaining to him he can't bring that outside. He looks at me, tilts his head and gives me the 'I-know-you-are-mad-at-me-but-I-am-your-baby-and-I-make-you-angry-laugh-and-cry-at-the-same-time-and-you-love-how-adorable-I-am' smile. He says, in his best smooth talking, logical thinking voice "Well, you told me that the trampoline is always dirty so I get too dirty while playing on it. You clean the floor when it gets dirty, right? I thought that if I vacuumed the trampoline, it would stay clean and I would not have to take a bath. (Why is bath water like kryptonite to some kids? You'd think the bath tub was going to taser him.) And you would be happy that I cleaned something for you." Seriously? I would be thrilled if he would flush the toilet. I might spontaneously combust if he picked up the cheetos in between the couch cushions. I want to be mad. Very mad. But after all, he is my baby that makes me angry, laugh and cry all at the same time and I love how adorable he is. All of my toddlers had temper tantrums, my tween and teen roll their eyes, and my baby is the baby. So much for breaking cycles. ;)
But, when I compare a vacuum and a little dirt to the scenarios the middle schooler & high schooler bring to me, I realize I can relax. I've learned to choose my battles wisely. Everything is relative. And he was trying to help......sorta.
That's just how I see it. But maybe it's my misperception.
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