I remember a last year Liam asked Santa to bring him a rocket ship. I knew it would be the last of these cheap requests, so I truly did savor the moment. We got him a fancy rocket with a landing pod and moon walker- Imaginext. The rocket ship lit up and its wings sprang out. It cost $40. Meanwhile I picked up a robotic dinosaur on sale for Joshua. We were a happy Mr. & Mrs. Claus.
This year we realize just how blessed we were. For the first time Liam wants, no expects, something a bit less simple. He is expecting Santa to bring him a DS. A DS is a hand-held Nintendo gaming system. They start at about $150 but the 3D model is usually closer to $179. I mentioned an expectation. That's because I realized this year that our little guy, who really is not spoiled, expects this gift from Santa. He clearly expects that Santa will just drop down the chimney, eat his cookies and leave a DS. When asked why he expects Santa to bring him what he wants, he replied, "Because he did last year!" Oops, apparently that $40 rocket ship wasn't such a great idea after all.
It occurred to Bill and I that we should set Liam up for disappointment... just in case we could find a good enough sale. "Well... Santa might not bring you a DS. He has to buy presents for millions of little boys and girls out there." and "If Santa doesn't bring you a DS maybe you can use your money to buy one" (this was a complete lie since Liam only has $26).
We're not so worried about Joshua. So far all I could get out of him that he wanted for he holidays was a blanket and more dinosaurs. I'm pretty sure he will have a different answer after he wakes up from his nap. I've settled on a Santa gift of a mega playland (which I found on sale) that includes those portable playhouses and tunnels. It cost $35 but I'm quite sure that to Joshua it will look like a million bucks.
What about this Santa guy bringing gifts to millions of children? As an adult I know the stark reality. Millions of childrens' parents can't afford the rocket, let alone the DS. Millions of children will have no Christmas. If there was a Santa, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be giving out $200 worth of gifts to one child, $20 to another and $2,000 to the kid on the nice side of town.
Do I really want my child to expect this DS? Not at all. And what if he does get the DS from Santa. What will he expect next year since Santa has always given in to his requests? But what if we ignore his request and he finds the Imaginext Medieval Castle instead?
So here we all are in the official holiday shopping season. That what if is why we wait in lines and shop down aisles littered with misplaced, missing toys. It's why we look forlornly at the tag "Buy 1 Transformer Get 2 Free" with rows of empty pegs and it's why we search the nearby shelves for stowaway Transformers (that actually worked last year for me, I found two misplaced Zhu Zhu pets when the rest of the store was sold out after a Black Friday sale). I swear the toy aisles look a lot like someone took a bowling ball and rolled it down each of the shelves.
Okay, so I admit it. This morning when we saw a DS on sale in our price range I sent Bill out to the store to go buy it (after he made me breakfast). As I held that small box in my hand I knew I was setting us up for an even more expensive Christmas of 2012. I knew that Santa would be expected again next year to bring some high tech gadget- possibly next time an iPad or a stereo, Guitar Hero or even a new game system. I knew that in time Joshua would learn the same thing, that he could ask for a bit more than just a blanket and a new dinosaur. That Santa would bring him his wildest dreams- a mega playland (with basket ball net and 50 balls included). Yes, I knew the expectation that this DS would bring to future Christmases. But it's still going to end up next to Liam's stocking on Christmas morning.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
What Did You Have For Dinner?
Maybe you have that horrible memory tucked away. It's that time you threw up in public and barely just got over it now that you're an adult. Lo and behold, now you have children and they're here to remind you, throwing up in public sucks.
My memory of throwing up in public was as a little girl. It must have been winter because I was bundled up. We were at a pizza shop in my hometown. I can tell it's a little girl memory because the amount of puke I recall throwing up is completely and totally impossible. As I recall, it was a massive flood of throw up, luckily all over a wood floor (now that I'm an adult I can appreciate the fact that it wasn't carpeted).
Poor Joshua threw up at a parade. We just didn't see it coming... well except for the fact that he was very sleepy and said he had a belly ache. I just thought he didn't like the parade. But no, it was an actual stomach bug. In our defence, we were preparing to leave, but then he seemed to be happy again. He said he wasn't afraid of the parade anymore and squirmed to get out of the stroller. I sat him down on the curb and immediately knew I had misinterpreted his eagerness to get out. I cleaned up the street as best as I could as Bill tended to our poor misunderstood sweetie behind the crowd and lights. As I carried Joshua (wrapped in a blanket) to the car, I couldn't help but feel just miserable for the little guy. The loud honking, bright lights, blaring music and not to mention the crowds. Plus we weren't exactly close to home and we were facing some serious traffic.
You think I would have learned from my experience as a mom before Joshua came along. We did have Liam after all. I don't recall many specific throw up incidents but neither Bill or I will ever forget the time we took hm out to eat at a decent family restaurant. Seriously, we barely ever left the house and we just wanted a sense of normalcy out to eat with our small family of three. We will never quite know if Liam threw up because he hated the mashed potatoes we fed him or if he now hates mashed potatoes because they made him throw up. But what we do know (in retrospect) is that we should have listened when we put the spoonful in front of him and he shook his head no. We should have listened.
Now I have seen worse cases. After teaching for several years some of the names and faces are starting to blur together. I don't remember which of my boy students was the one to throw up in the garbage can, but I certainly do distinctly remember the face & name of the girl who threw up in her desk (yes, in her desk).
I suppose on the bright side is that now my boys know a little bit better. They know perhaps to face away from the crowd, or under the table. The other bright side is that both incidents occurred before they really knew any better to be embarrassed, unlike a poor 4th Grader . Perhaps the incidents won't scar them for life. On the other hand... I still shudder when I'm back home passing by that pizza shop and Liam still hates mashed potatoes. I wonder what Joshua will say next time we ask him if he wants to go see a parade...
My memory of throwing up in public was as a little girl. It must have been winter because I was bundled up. We were at a pizza shop in my hometown. I can tell it's a little girl memory because the amount of puke I recall throwing up is completely and totally impossible. As I recall, it was a massive flood of throw up, luckily all over a wood floor (now that I'm an adult I can appreciate the fact that it wasn't carpeted).
Poor Joshua threw up at a parade. We just didn't see it coming... well except for the fact that he was very sleepy and said he had a belly ache. I just thought he didn't like the parade. But no, it was an actual stomach bug. In our defence, we were preparing to leave, but then he seemed to be happy again. He said he wasn't afraid of the parade anymore and squirmed to get out of the stroller. I sat him down on the curb and immediately knew I had misinterpreted his eagerness to get out. I cleaned up the street as best as I could as Bill tended to our poor misunderstood sweetie behind the crowd and lights. As I carried Joshua (wrapped in a blanket) to the car, I couldn't help but feel just miserable for the little guy. The loud honking, bright lights, blaring music and not to mention the crowds. Plus we weren't exactly close to home and we were facing some serious traffic.
You think I would have learned from my experience as a mom before Joshua came along. We did have Liam after all. I don't recall many specific throw up incidents but neither Bill or I will ever forget the time we took hm out to eat at a decent family restaurant. Seriously, we barely ever left the house and we just wanted a sense of normalcy out to eat with our small family of three. We will never quite know if Liam threw up because he hated the mashed potatoes we fed him or if he now hates mashed potatoes because they made him throw up. But what we do know (in retrospect) is that we should have listened when we put the spoonful in front of him and he shook his head no. We should have listened.
Now I have seen worse cases. After teaching for several years some of the names and faces are starting to blur together. I don't remember which of my boy students was the one to throw up in the garbage can, but I certainly do distinctly remember the face & name of the girl who threw up in her desk (yes, in her desk).
I suppose on the bright side is that now my boys know a little bit better. They know perhaps to face away from the crowd, or under the table. The other bright side is that both incidents occurred before they really knew any better to be embarrassed, unlike a poor 4th Grader . Perhaps the incidents won't scar them for life. On the other hand... I still shudder when I'm back home passing by that pizza shop and Liam still hates mashed potatoes. I wonder what Joshua will say next time we ask him if he wants to go see a parade...
Friday, November 11, 2011
The Truth About Lying
I'm a liar. Or rather an "omitter of truths" but really, doesn't that actually just mean... I'm a liar? Last night I gave Liam milk with his dinner. It was 1%. We usually get 2% but an unfortunate misunderstanding led to lower fat content (otherwise known as watery milk). Last night we bought the right milk but that still left us with a jug of the skim. Blech. So I did what any other responsible parent would do, I served the skim to Liam without telling him. Now I could spin this by saying it's better for him anyway and he needs to acquire a taste for skim at an early age (unlike his mother and father). But then again, that would be being dishonest to you too. Really I gave Liam the skim because I know we hate the skim but I also hate to waste so someone's got to drink it.
It's not as though this has never happened before, there was the time I gave Liam and Josh the shredded wheat squares instead of the frosted mini wheats (notice the omission of "frosted"). They said they didn't like it because the squares were different sizes... but I knew the truth; that their new mini wheats were lacking that sweet crusty frosting. This morning for breakfast I saw that half full box of shredded mini wheats and decided to try some myself... I regretted my choice immediately. Who ever ate shredded wheat without the frosting (answer: me when I was about 5 years old because my parents tortured me with sugar free cereals and apple juice made in a blender)? And how could they cope with such a tasteless cereal (answer: by pouring on cups of pure sugar and justifying it by saying that real sugar is better than crusty processed cereal frosting).
Lying really is a part of parenting, or rather, omitting the truth is. What do we say when a 5 year old asks how the baby gets into the womb, for example? Well, when confronted with this question I was able to get as far as "the daddy has a sperm and the mommy has an egg" and when they come together, it makes a baby. I was proud of myself for being so honest... until Liam asked how the sperm got inside of the mommy. That's when I decided to omit the rest of the truth (and run away).
Liam brought home a library book called "Benno and the Night of the Broken Glass". I knew as soon as I opened it and read the setting (Berlin, Germany) that this wouldn't be good. It was a book about Kristallnacht (the Night of Broken Glass) from the perspective of a cat. Did I really want to start into a conversation about the holocaust with a 5 year old? Did I want to start that conversation from the perspective of a cat? For the first time when reading a bedtime story to Liam, I found myself reading him a story without a happy ending. There was no way to spin it really except to stop reading, which he didn't want me to do. I think he thought it would all end happily, how could I tell him that after the last page of this book, things actually got so much worse? I've described September 11th before to Liam. Some people might find it hard to describe that event to their children, but I think I did okay. I told him about a group of people called terrorists who wanted to make people in America sad and how they really did smash down buildings. I told him it made everybody very sad.
So what should we honestly tell our children? Should we tell them the truth about marriage equality when they say "only men and women can get married" or should we just smile when a 4 year old tells us that he wants to marry his best friend (also a boy)? Should we tell them the full truth about cigarettes- yes, they cause cancer but they also fell good so sometimes you might see daddy smoking one. Should you have to confess if you take a piece of candy from their jack-o-lanterns after they go to bed? Or what if they notice that Daddy never gets peas on his plate, should you tell them that he hates them, thus risking that they will start to hate peas too? You just never know when you will be confronted with a situation that demands some level of truth. Then the question becomes, not how much of a lie will they buy into, but how much truth can you omit? Yet beware, what you omit today will need to be explained another day. Maybe at bedtime, or at a family party or on a long car ride one afternoon.
It's not as though this has never happened before, there was the time I gave Liam and Josh the shredded wheat squares instead of the frosted mini wheats (notice the omission of "frosted"). They said they didn't like it because the squares were different sizes... but I knew the truth; that their new mini wheats were lacking that sweet crusty frosting. This morning for breakfast I saw that half full box of shredded mini wheats and decided to try some myself... I regretted my choice immediately. Who ever ate shredded wheat without the frosting (answer: me when I was about 5 years old because my parents tortured me with sugar free cereals and apple juice made in a blender)? And how could they cope with such a tasteless cereal (answer: by pouring on cups of pure sugar and justifying it by saying that real sugar is better than crusty processed cereal frosting).
Lying really is a part of parenting, or rather, omitting the truth is. What do we say when a 5 year old asks how the baby gets into the womb, for example? Well, when confronted with this question I was able to get as far as "the daddy has a sperm and the mommy has an egg" and when they come together, it makes a baby. I was proud of myself for being so honest... until Liam asked how the sperm got inside of the mommy. That's when I decided to omit the rest of the truth (and run away).
Liam brought home a library book called "Benno and the Night of the Broken Glass". I knew as soon as I opened it and read the setting (Berlin, Germany) that this wouldn't be good. It was a book about Kristallnacht (the Night of Broken Glass) from the perspective of a cat. Did I really want to start into a conversation about the holocaust with a 5 year old? Did I want to start that conversation from the perspective of a cat? For the first time when reading a bedtime story to Liam, I found myself reading him a story without a happy ending. There was no way to spin it really except to stop reading, which he didn't want me to do. I think he thought it would all end happily, how could I tell him that after the last page of this book, things actually got so much worse? I've described September 11th before to Liam. Some people might find it hard to describe that event to their children, but I think I did okay. I told him about a group of people called terrorists who wanted to make people in America sad and how they really did smash down buildings. I told him it made everybody very sad.
So what should we honestly tell our children? Should we tell them the truth about marriage equality when they say "only men and women can get married" or should we just smile when a 4 year old tells us that he wants to marry his best friend (also a boy)? Should we tell them the full truth about cigarettes- yes, they cause cancer but they also fell good so sometimes you might see daddy smoking one. Should you have to confess if you take a piece of candy from their jack-o-lanterns after they go to bed? Or what if they notice that Daddy never gets peas on his plate, should you tell them that he hates them, thus risking that they will start to hate peas too? You just never know when you will be confronted with a situation that demands some level of truth. Then the question becomes, not how much of a lie will they buy into, but how much truth can you omit? Yet beware, what you omit today will need to be explained another day. Maybe at bedtime, or at a family party or on a long car ride one afternoon.
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