Lovin’ putting the kids in the jacuzzi tub for baths. I don’t have to do any of the scrubbing…it’s like sending them through a car wash.

honesty is the best policy

we all have our days.   some good, some bad.

i’ve told both of my children, on countless occasions, that all i ever want from them is honesty.  tell me something good, tell me something bad, but just make sure it’s the truth.  you can tell me anything…anything.

so yesterday, for no particular reason i was crabby.  nothing really wrong, just a crabby pants.  crabsalot.  crabby mccrabbenstein….you get the idea.

then my kids come home from school, and like any mood…it expands and influences whoever is nearby.  so they got crabby.  then the crabby escalated.  my son in particular, he’s like a barometer…a predictor, and at times, an amplifier of feelings.

so he started crabbin’ about his wii not bending to his will, my daughter started crabbin’ about how she couldn’t double up on the flav-or-ices.  then, like a tennis tournament of interjections, words were exchanged.  some were smashed out-loud, some lobbed and mumbled , and some were tapped over the net, whispered only to god.

later that night, before bedtime, we all cuddled up for some stories.  after lights out and a little drift off to sleep i said, “kids, i love you so much.  i’m really sorry for being a crabby mom today.”  and it was weird, like on cue they both leaned over, kissed me, and said in stereo, “that’s ok, mom.”  i sat with my eyes closed, quiet, and reflected on how lucky i was.  lucky to have love, and even more lucky to have 2 amazing kids who were communicating the power of forgiveness.

i got choked up.  then about 3 minutes later, still in cuddle formation, my son says, “mom?”  i say, “yes love?”  he turns and wraps his warm small hand around mine…”and i’m sorry for calling you a screaming old-lady, good night.”

gosh, i hadn’t heard that one.  as i bit my tongue with a grimace, i thought, yes, yes it is.

Great piece

The Weary Tiger Mother.  Thanks Miss Bee.  I sure loved watching Phil, and Match Game too.

A Long Summer For Weary Tiger Mothers.

 

These are NOT product endorsements. Just the facts.

I have found a product that is actually making a difference.  Vinyl table top covers.  It makes me love my children more.  They come in a bunch of faux finishes:  marble, granite, plain, wood, tiled.  It keeps my tables clean, and they’re fitted – so my little squirmy children can’t move them.  It’s like a shower-cap for your table, as my good friend CB said.  Spill syrup, milk, jelly, and all things sticky – I don’t care.

Here’s the site:  Happy Accents.

Here’s a picture: 

Next up, vacuum cleaner.  A couple of years ago my husband was in charge of getting a new vacuum.  Here’s what he got:

Isn’t it adorable?!  Electrolux.  It goes everywhere and better yet, it has a filter system.  The only vacuum that could possible be more convenient – would be the backpack-vacs that the disgruntled staff used at the restaurant/bar where I used to work.

The Mommy Business

Over the last several days, I’ve read a couple of different articles/posts on being a mom.  I even googled the term “momming” only to find out it’s sort of a real word, really.

There are so many different attitudes, techniques and ideas about how to raise kids in the best way.  To say that one person has a solution is pretty far reaching.  People are different, situations are different, and most importantly, kids are different.   The Mommy Business  is very serious; and I think the reason for this intensity right now is because our society is going through a transition of what it means to be a primary caregiver.  There are stay at home moms, stay at home dads, uber-moms, slacker moms, alpha moms, working moms, working dads.  Everyone seems to be trying to categorize what it means to be a stay at home parent.

I was thinking about this after I got a little freaked-out from reading a Boston Globe article about a new book called, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. I haven’t read the book, but according to this article, it’s already got some controversy.  Whether the book is intended as a memoir or a guide, is even up for debate.  From what I understand: it’s the story about one mom’s technique in raising high-achieving kids.  Her kids are indeed high-achieving, and that is the primary goal.  But her style is super-dictatorial, hence the controversy.  It’s a cultural/familial technique that was handed down by her mother and it’s causing quite a stir.

I actually panicked after reading the article, because I sure hope that in any of my previous posts I never insinuated that there was a one right way of parenting.   I would never want to come across as a know-it-all.  Because if there’s one thing being a mom has taught me – It’s that I don’t know it all.  And every day I am learning right along with my kids.

I also came across this post on chicagonow.com – In this Economy – Momming is a profession?…With Business cards? It talks about how former business execs often attempt to transfer their business experience to parenting and not usually successfully.  Their former life of goal-driven and time-lined agendas doesn’t always translate well to parenting.

There’s another interesting article about “business based parenting” that I read in New York Magazine back in 2005.  I happened to read this article after I had my son and was pregnant with my daughter.  Try as I might, I don’t think I’m cut out to be an Alpha Mom.

Then the other day, I read a post about The Pioneer Woman on one of my favorite sites, Alaskarella.  The Pioneer Woman does it all, cooks, homeschools, and takes care of her house.  Then she writes cooking books about it, blogs about it daily, takes pictures of it, lectures about it, and shows up on tv about it.  As Alaskarella says, she’s a hero, but a tough act to follow.  I don’t know that I could ever be all that, and a bag of chips.  I can take a couple of pictures, and have a laugh on my blog, every couple of days, weeks.  But that’s as far as this Suburban Woman is able to go.

Finally, when it comes to parenting I feel I’m lucky.  After my son was diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder, I realized that when it comes to being a parent – I didn’t know anything at all.  I was at square one.  Before I understood what was going on, I was confused, I was frustrated, and I didn’t understand why all the parenting techniques I was raised with – just weren’t working.

I had to humble myself and say, I just don’t know what to do here and I need help.  So I went to the school and I watched my son’s teacher.  Her approach was completely different from mine, she came down to his level, she was patient, she was playful, yet not a push-over, and it worked.  I watched my son’s OT, she had an energy that drew my son in, and she let him guide the constructive play – so I tried that, and it worked.

What I’m trying to say is – when it comes to being a parent.  I’m learning.  My kids are learning.  We have some fun, we make some mistakes, then we try again.  It’s like improv comedy.

Truth is,  the day I believe I became a better parent, was the day I realized that I had way more questions than I had answers.

Now and Zen

I’ve been light on the blogging lately because I’m a big fat slacker.  In trying to do everything – I eventually shut down and do nothing.  On my list of things to do are:  (This is a list in my head, writing it down would only validate my inability to do it.) (Wait, I just wrote it down here.  No, nope, that doesn’t count. It’s not hand-written in my notebook with Wonder Woman on the cover.)

1. Really dust my house
2. Clean the blinds (see #1)
3. Iron some clothes
4. Make some healthy snacks for my kids (whole wheat pumpkin muffiny or carroty things)
5. Get the kids off the tv and play enriching games
6. Exercise
7. Put Christmas stuff away
8. Read the 6 books I’ve got, that I honestly can’t wait to read
9. Knit the wrap cardigan sweater that I have gorgeous moss green superwash wool for
10. Get romantic (and yes, it is exactly what you’re assuming)
11. Cook amazing meals on a regular basis
12. Learn how to sew
13. Make curtains (see #12, Candace Olson style)
14. Go back to school
15. Spend more time with friends and family
16. Mail the school pictures of my kids that I forgot to send my mom
17. Blog more
18. Write that new Ted the Tiny Robot story down
19. Meditate (I’ve learned how to do that, and it’s awesome)
20. Travel with my kids
21. Paint my weird light greenish pale, tablet pill looking bathroom

So, what ends up happening when I think about that list is…nothing.  I get overwhelmed and I shut down.  Y’know those sad crazy hoarders you see on tv?  The ones that are blocked in their filthy houses?  Once, I heard one of them say,  “Well, the truth is, I’m a perfectionist and I can’t get started ’cause there’s too much of it.”  At which point I said to the tv, “It’s simple weirdo, how ’bout you start by cleaning that over flowing litter-box.”

I don’t get living in truly unhealthy situations – but I’m starting to understand how wanting to be perfect totally gets in the way of good enough.

The days that I’m beating myself up for not accomplishing all of my goals, are the days that I end up on the sofa, watching super horrible romantic comedies (ie. The Ugly Truth), and eating food that is ugly.

I’m slowly learning that if I can chip away a corner of what I want to do – just think about one room to clean or one goal to accomplish…or even better, not thinking about it at all and just sort of organically going through my day, stuff does get done.

So for right now, there is nothing else – only the making of scrambled eggs for the 2 cuties with super bad bed-head, who are watching Pink Panther in the other room, and waiting patiently for their breakfast.

8 truths (I someday hope to understand and lovingly accept)

1.  Kids make a house messy and that’s okay.  Real Simple magazine is selling a pack of lies, man.  (But I lu-uhv to read it and sigh.)

2.  My mother wasn’t lying when she said, “Honey, there just aren’t enough hours in the day.”

3.  I can’t move furniture all by myself. (Oh, I can, as long as I also want gashes in my hardwood floor)

4.  Just because there’s an old crusty can of white paint in the basement, doesn’t mean it’s a match.

5.  T.V. will not actually melt my kids brains.

6.  I was a picky eater too – and this is just payback.

7.  If I leave the house the dishes will not magically get done, like on t.v.

8.  Time does not conveniently stop while I’m on the computer.  It accelerates.

You know you’re a mom when

one of your favorites sounds is a loose cough.

I think I might have a direction

So, I’ve been giving a lot of thought about what to do with myself.

My kids are potty-trained, they can feed themselves, they can pause the DVD player.  My job is done.

I’ve had a lot of different ideas about what to do now.  Going back to school has been high on the list. But what to study?  I can see myself studying so many different things.  I like science, writing, reading, knitting, and I’ve always had a fantasy about studying art.

That said, what I’ve actually been doing lately is volunteering at my son’s school.  I’m helping with the reading and writing program there; and I love it.  I had no idea that I’d enjoy working with kids.  What I’m especially enjoying -  is one on one reading.

If someone had told my cigarette smoking, apathetic, margarita drinking 24 year old self that someday I’d enjoy working with kids…I would have responded with an eye-roll and stumbled away.

Here’s the thing.  It’s great work.  Hugely rewarding and up to a certain point (4th grade, if I had to guess) the kids just love to see you.  The hours would work with my kids’ schedule.  There seems to be a pretty steady need.  And it’s not just a need in schools;  hospitals, various centers, adult literacy programs – all need Reading/Literacy Specialists.

Now, the thing is how to fit school into a family schedule.  How to pay for it?  Hmmmm.

I’m researching, I’m looking at schools, and talking to teachers to find out more…

the F U fours

I was sitting with some moms outside my son’s school the other day.  After school lets out, the kids hang around and play while the moms and dads chat.  As a group of us sat around a picnic table the topic of discussion turned to behavior.  Specifically, that of children.  More specifically, that of rotten children.  Even more specifically, that of the 4 year old.

The first thing to understand is that the whole “terrible twos” thing is a MYTH.  (Italicized, CAPITALIZED, and bolded for emphasis.)

The twos are like the fours, the same way my fun loving feel good art class at Southern Illinois University was the same as my highly intimidating advanced political theory class at Indiana University.

Where in one, the teacher wore mismatched striped socks, sandals, a floral skirt and told me to, “Paint what you feel!” And the other was taught by a physically and intellectually imposing teacher with ominous white-hair and a booming bass voice. Who, rumor had it, was involved in what would eventually become the Czech Republic’s new constitution.   His class was dedicated to the lingering relevancy of de Tocqueville’s “Democracy in America,” (1835, 1840.)  We started out with 10 trembling students and diminished to 6 frozen eyed ones by the end of the semester.  Yes, they are both university classes, but just a bit different.

Bluntly, the twos are a friggin’ cake walk compared to the bigger and angrier fours.

So, as we all had a good laugh at the misconception of the “terrible twos,” we all agreed that the fours were where the pain’s really at.  One mom said, “Oh yeah, my husband  and I used to call ‘em the F U fours.”  ‘Cause the truth is, if they could swear like longshoremen – they would.  As my daughter rages and fights about the unfairness of the juice I just gave her instead of milk – I know, that if she had the skills, she would flip me the bird, hurl expletives at me, then hop in the car and leave skid marks as she peeled out of the driveway.  But she can’t, she’s 4.  She’s just a tiny ball of toddler rage, foot stamping, and “No! NO! NOOOOO!”

I’m lucky though.  Because I can look at my 6 year old son and remain hopeful.  He put us through that gauntlet 2 years ago.  And, I am proud to report, has emerged as an engaging, inquisitive kid that genuinely appreciates the things his parents do.  I know that soon my daughter will make the same transition…(said with a hopeful wince.)

In the meantime, I need to prepare myself – she will be awake soon and I’ll have to explain all over again why her world is so unfair.  Why I make her pick up her toys, wear flip flops on the deck so she doesn’t get splinters, go to bed at a reasonable hour, and brush her snarly hair.

God, I’m such a mean mommy.  I’d tell me “F U” too.