Potties are really gross. Not only are they visually unappealing, but they're smelly too. What's worse than a potty is a kid potty next to a real toilet. These things are just terrifically gross and no amount of cleaning really can account for the fact that it's regularly pooped and peed in (if you are a lucky parent). I tried, I really tried, to get Joshua to pee directly into the big potty. But there was always something wrong with the scenario. It's too high off the ground, the seat is too hard, the flush is too loud. So instead of peeing on the big potty, it's into that gross little thing that doubles as a stool for tooth-brushing time.
Here's why it's gross. I clean it out every time with disinfectant, or wipes or soapy water. But how well can you clean out a foamy insert seat? I'd love to get rid of the foamy seat but then it would just be too uncomfortable... like the big potty. So I pander to the little man and give him his stinky foam seat that can never really get clean. Now lately we've only had #1's, which is actually the bad news, but I'm just not looking forward to the #2's- cleaning that out of a potty is just plain wrong. Again, why can't all this go into the big toilet?
In my efforts to persuade Josh to use the big toilet, we bought him a big potty padded toilet seat. Same problem with foamy seat, but at least everything would go where it needed to go. No questions asked. Only it didn't work so well and Josh ended up back on the mainstay potty on the floor... next to the big potty.
You know what really grosses me out? Used potty seats. Now I admit that our current one was used by Liam before Josh. But let me tell you, no matter how much anyone begs for it, this potty seat is only leaving the house in a garbage bag. We're not passing it down to anyone and I certainly won't try to pawn it off on anyone for $3 at a garage sale. No joke, I went to a local garage sale with at least a hundred local consignors ... and I saw rows of potty seats. It was the third day of the garage sale. There were no strollers left, no more bikes or trikes or even toddler beds. The clothes were picked through. Just rows of potties and some old Leap-pad accessories. Two things you just can't even give away and here people were; trying to sell them!?!
A few days ago I just about gave up. First of all, Josh has really not been wanting to use the potty at all (probably because I'm C-R-A-Z-Y and he feels a little *pressured*). Second, I'm just really sick of choking on the disinfectant spray. So I asked Josh if he wanted to try standing and peeing. He thought it might be a good idea. First he watched Liam and then he gave it a try. Let me tell you, it was exciting to hear that tinkle. Possibly more for me than it was for him, although he did seem genuinely enthusiastic. To think, I could go back to putting in efforts cleaning our actual toilet more often rather than this plastic thing. And we could start using the potty again for it's better purpose... as a stool!
I realize that we have a long way to go, and that's okay. I understand that peeing is really only half of the battle, and perhaps the easiest half. I also realize that calling potty training a "battle" is probably why it isn't going so great. But at this point, it's a small victory and I'm eager to celebrate. Standing up has just reminded me that I may need to clean out that potty a little less often... but now I'll probably have to start mopping the floor next to the potty a bit more often.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Stepping Back
Swings. For years I've tried to avoid them. Not because they aren't fun. Not because it isn't good for kids to feel the sensation of flying... but because I hate standing there pushing and pushing... and getting yelled at and yelled at to keep on... pushing and pushing (x2 kids). I can understand Joshua asking for a push. He doesn't want to go very high anyway. But with Liam it has just been "higher and higher" and it never is high enough and he always wants to keep going and going. What he has failed to realize is that swinging should be self-sufficient. For years we have tried to get him to coordinate putting his feet out and tucking them under... but he just hasn't gotten it. We've demonstrated (that's the fun part)... but he still hasn't gotten it. We've nagged him; we've refused to keep on pushing; we've made up chants like "out" and "in" but nothing has been working.
And then, earlier just this afternoon, Liam said to me, "Look Mommy I can pump my legs!" and he did it. He just did it. After years of nagging and coaxing, he just started pumping those legs. I was no where nearby. I wasn't there to nag or anything... and he just did it. Maybe his aunt gave him some words of encouragement, or maybe it was watching his cousins pump their legs... but Liam just started to swing all by himself. And then he said (brace yourselves), "Mommy, instead of my 20 minutes with my DS when we get home, can I just practice my swinging?" and I said, "Yes?"
So I sat in the car with Joshua while he finished up his car-ride nap and Liam raced to the backyard to practice his swinging. He figured out how to start swinging without pushing off and he even practiced jumping onto his feet off of the swing. Amazing.
You know when you've spent months- or years- working on a milestone and it just clicks? It's, like, incredible. How did they learn to do that? (as if you didn't spend countless hours reinforcing the behavior)
It's not like it hasn't happened before. Months spent rolling and slithering around can suddenly turn into a backwards crawl; which evolves into a frontways speedster crawler. Months spent quizzing your kids on each letter and yet it will blow your mind the first time your child recites the whole alphabet. Time spent worrying that your child will never start talking and then before you know it, you'll be having a scientific discussion in the car about how radio waves work or about what type of super hero they want to become when they grow up.
Right now I'm right in the middle of forcing a milestone with Joshua and it's really not going so well. See, he was potty trained pretty well for the month of July but utterly refused to continue into the month of August to the point where we closed up his potty for the entire Fall and Winter and only used it as a stool for him to reach the sink. Aside from constant guilt trips as we changed his diaper, "Joshy, poopy belongs in the potty, not your diaper", we didn't really push the issue. Then over February Break, I started from scratch. Sticker charts had failed us before so I pushed right into bad-mommy territory and started giving Josh a piece of candy every time he used the potty. Motivated by Skittles, M&M's and Pez, he started to go pee again on the potty. But not #2. It's a quandary really. Pull-ups don't work so great with #2 but yet if you put him in a diaper, it's harder to pull down his pants in time for #1. So we continue the guilt trips and the bribery and the completely forceful nature of our parenting styles. I just can't let it go. I know that some of Joshua's hesitance is fear and the need for control. But it just doesn't matter to me. I need for him to use that potty. I see the end of diapers in sight and I just can't stand that we're not there yet.
How does potty training relate to swinging? I know that if I step back, things will happen naturally and that there is plenty of time. When Liam was ready to swing, he did. He figured out that it would look a little absurd for Mom and Dad to be pushing him on a playground swing at the age of 10. Or better yet, he realized how amazing it feels to be pumping your own legs, going just as high as you can go and feeling like you're flying; even if just for a moment. Liam got that taste of independence and it motivated him to keep trying. I'm hoping so much that someday soon Joshua will get that same big idea, that he doesn't need a diaper following him around all day and that he can control his own destiny... by using the potty. Maybe I'm reading into it too much. Maybe it's like I said; I just need to step back. Liam's got the swings in the backyard, Joshy's got his potty in the bathroom. Soon enough Joshua will achieve his own milestone. And when he does no one will be as happy for him as me.
And then, earlier just this afternoon, Liam said to me, "Look Mommy I can pump my legs!" and he did it. He just did it. After years of nagging and coaxing, he just started pumping those legs. I was no where nearby. I wasn't there to nag or anything... and he just did it. Maybe his aunt gave him some words of encouragement, or maybe it was watching his cousins pump their legs... but Liam just started to swing all by himself. And then he said (brace yourselves), "Mommy, instead of my 20 minutes with my DS when we get home, can I just practice my swinging?" and I said, "Yes?"
So I sat in the car with Joshua while he finished up his car-ride nap and Liam raced to the backyard to practice his swinging. He figured out how to start swinging without pushing off and he even practiced jumping onto his feet off of the swing. Amazing.
You know when you've spent months- or years- working on a milestone and it just clicks? It's, like, incredible. How did they learn to do that? (as if you didn't spend countless hours reinforcing the behavior)
It's not like it hasn't happened before. Months spent rolling and slithering around can suddenly turn into a backwards crawl; which evolves into a frontways speedster crawler. Months spent quizzing your kids on each letter and yet it will blow your mind the first time your child recites the whole alphabet. Time spent worrying that your child will never start talking and then before you know it, you'll be having a scientific discussion in the car about how radio waves work or about what type of super hero they want to become when they grow up.
Right now I'm right in the middle of forcing a milestone with Joshua and it's really not going so well. See, he was potty trained pretty well for the month of July but utterly refused to continue into the month of August to the point where we closed up his potty for the entire Fall and Winter and only used it as a stool for him to reach the sink. Aside from constant guilt trips as we changed his diaper, "Joshy, poopy belongs in the potty, not your diaper", we didn't really push the issue. Then over February Break, I started from scratch. Sticker charts had failed us before so I pushed right into bad-mommy territory and started giving Josh a piece of candy every time he used the potty. Motivated by Skittles, M&M's and Pez, he started to go pee again on the potty. But not #2. It's a quandary really. Pull-ups don't work so great with #2 but yet if you put him in a diaper, it's harder to pull down his pants in time for #1. So we continue the guilt trips and the bribery and the completely forceful nature of our parenting styles. I just can't let it go. I know that some of Joshua's hesitance is fear and the need for control. But it just doesn't matter to me. I need for him to use that potty. I see the end of diapers in sight and I just can't stand that we're not there yet.
How does potty training relate to swinging? I know that if I step back, things will happen naturally and that there is plenty of time. When Liam was ready to swing, he did. He figured out that it would look a little absurd for Mom and Dad to be pushing him on a playground swing at the age of 10. Or better yet, he realized how amazing it feels to be pumping your own legs, going just as high as you can go and feeling like you're flying; even if just for a moment. Liam got that taste of independence and it motivated him to keep trying. I'm hoping so much that someday soon Joshua will get that same big idea, that he doesn't need a diaper following him around all day and that he can control his own destiny... by using the potty. Maybe I'm reading into it too much. Maybe it's like I said; I just need to step back. Liam's got the swings in the backyard, Joshy's got his potty in the bathroom. Soon enough Joshua will achieve his own milestone. And when he does no one will be as happy for him as me.
Monday, March 5, 2012
What's In Your Pocket?
My pockets are always full and it isn't cash... it's trash. I've got gum wrappers, golf tees, pennies and fortune cookie fortunes; all in my pockets. And it's becoming quite a chore to remember to empty them out each night.
Oh Mom, I do so remember passing my little bits of garbage up to you in the front seat while you drove us to this practice or that person's house or from one party to another school function. I remember handing you crumpled up wrappers and sticky wads of gum. What I didn't consider then and that I know all to well now is that you had no garbage in the front seat of that car and you didn't really have time to make one. So instead you probably did what I do now. You probably stuffed the trash into your travel coffee mug (were travel coffee mugs even invented back then... no seriously, I can't fathom a world without travel coffee mugs). Or maybe you had one of those ash trays that they no longer install in cars. Or perhaps you had left that nice plastic bag on the stick shift after your last oil change. But more likely than not... you stuffed that garbage into your pockets.
Here's what I don't get about being passed car garbage. It's not like the kids pass me all of their garbage (they just think they do). No, there's plenty of garbage left strewn around their seats too. Stuffed into crevices of my backseat there are french fries and crayons, tokens and tickets, wasted stickers and fake tattoos. I cringe when I find the top of one of those sauces from McDonalds. True, they're passing me plenty of garbage... yet somehow they seem to be sitting in their own little landfill back there. And in my defence, it's really too cold out for me to clean out the car right now... maybe over Spring break.
Wherever we go, I leave with tissues, tags, candy wrappers and maybe even small art projects... all stuffed into my pockets. we go many places so I'm always on the look out for garbage cans (yes kids, there is a such thing as garbage cans) to empty my pockets. I'm met there by moms of other children (young and old- I must admit to passing my own Mom garbage even when I see her now today) who are all emptying their pockets into the garbage cans. Sometimes we find stuffed up wads of money that we didn't have time to put away properly... but usually it's those clingy clear straw wrappers from juice boxes.
Don't get me started on the laundry! If I forget to empty out my pockets those tissues become crunchy wads of lint in my pockets glued by snot to faded carnival tickets. Yet oddly, when I empty out the boys' pockets I find... nothing. No garbage. I suppose if anything I feel appreciative that at least they don't have a rock collection or bug carcasses in their pockets but mostly I'm thinking: why don't they just put their own garbage in their own pockets?
In an effort to be productive and not just to whine, I've come up with some solutions for moms who wish to stop this endless cycle of trash in their family:
1) When your child approaches you with garbage, put your hands in the air (out of their reach) and back up.
2) Direct them to the nearest garbage can... or their father.
3) Wear exercise pants (even when you're not exercising) because they have no pockets. Don't give into temptation to start stuffing trash under the elastic waistband.
4) Make your kids empty out your pockets before you do your laundry (a bad idea if you're hiding anything from your kids... like extra change).
5) Stop handing trash to your own mother, thus setting a bad example.
Oh Mom, I do so remember passing my little bits of garbage up to you in the front seat while you drove us to this practice or that person's house or from one party to another school function. I remember handing you crumpled up wrappers and sticky wads of gum. What I didn't consider then and that I know all to well now is that you had no garbage in the front seat of that car and you didn't really have time to make one. So instead you probably did what I do now. You probably stuffed the trash into your travel coffee mug (were travel coffee mugs even invented back then... no seriously, I can't fathom a world without travel coffee mugs). Or maybe you had one of those ash trays that they no longer install in cars. Or perhaps you had left that nice plastic bag on the stick shift after your last oil change. But more likely than not... you stuffed that garbage into your pockets.
Here's what I don't get about being passed car garbage. It's not like the kids pass me all of their garbage (they just think they do). No, there's plenty of garbage left strewn around their seats too. Stuffed into crevices of my backseat there are french fries and crayons, tokens and tickets, wasted stickers and fake tattoos. I cringe when I find the top of one of those sauces from McDonalds. True, they're passing me plenty of garbage... yet somehow they seem to be sitting in their own little landfill back there. And in my defence, it's really too cold out for me to clean out the car right now... maybe over Spring break.
Wherever we go, I leave with tissues, tags, candy wrappers and maybe even small art projects... all stuffed into my pockets. we go many places so I'm always on the look out for garbage cans (yes kids, there is a such thing as garbage cans) to empty my pockets. I'm met there by moms of other children (young and old- I must admit to passing my own Mom garbage even when I see her now today) who are all emptying their pockets into the garbage cans. Sometimes we find stuffed up wads of money that we didn't have time to put away properly... but usually it's those clingy clear straw wrappers from juice boxes.
Don't get me started on the laundry! If I forget to empty out my pockets those tissues become crunchy wads of lint in my pockets glued by snot to faded carnival tickets. Yet oddly, when I empty out the boys' pockets I find... nothing. No garbage. I suppose if anything I feel appreciative that at least they don't have a rock collection or bug carcasses in their pockets but mostly I'm thinking: why don't they just put their own garbage in their own pockets?
In an effort to be productive and not just to whine, I've come up with some solutions for moms who wish to stop this endless cycle of trash in their family:
1) When your child approaches you with garbage, put your hands in the air (out of their reach) and back up.
2) Direct them to the nearest garbage can... or their father.
3) Wear exercise pants (even when you're not exercising) because they have no pockets. Don't give into temptation to start stuffing trash under the elastic waistband.
4) Make your kids empty out your pockets before you do your laundry (a bad idea if you're hiding anything from your kids... like extra change).
5) Stop handing trash to your own mother, thus setting a bad example.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Super Mommy
This morning Joshua cuddled up to me (and by cuddling, I mean crazy head butting) and called me "Super Mommy". I didn't take it to be like the kind of Super Mom you brag about on a coffee mug. Afterall, he had just called himself "Super Joshua" and, of course, Liam was "Super Liam". But it got me thinking... maybe Joshua does actually think I have super powers.
This makes sense because he insists on me immediately providing him with oatmeal even when he can see me taking steps to prepare it with his own two eyes. I can even say, "I'm heating the water for your oatmeal." and then Joshua will reply, "Where's my oatmeal?" When it comes to breakfast, neither of the boys seem to really care about my dining experience. I may have just sat down with a nice bowl of crunchy frosted mini-wheats, when in no time at all I am told by one of the boys, "I am out of milk" or "I dropped my spoon". I look around the room trying to figure out who they are telling this to. Surely, they don't expect me to jeopardize my cereal to help them. But actually, they do. I wonder if they think I have super speed that allows me to conjure up their breakfasts without my own suffering with soggy cereal. Or maybe they think I'm so invincible that soggy cereal is no concern for me. Perhaps that's the case.
Speaking of meals, I want to know why it is that no matter what I ask Joshua he wants to eat, he somehow always decides to change his mind once the meal is served to him. Again, perhaps he thinks I have super powers to reverse time and prepare him his new choice instead of what is in front of him. The other day we packed our lunch for a day trip. I have several witnesses who can attest that he did actually agree to peanut butter and jelly... and yet when we opened the lunch bag he wanted ham and cheese and insisted that he had asked for that in the first place. Since I have no powers of time travel, I was only able to convince him to eat what I had made him (so he could then have his pudding).
It seems that the boys really do think I am powerful enough to multi-task like a super hero. They really do think I can get their drink at the same time that I am vacuuming or that I can find the remote when it's buried under couch cushions. When I get Joshua dressed every morning he yells at me... literally yells at me... to put on his socks- while I am still putting on his pants. As if I could do both at once... as if. I'll tell you what's super human; putting on this kids' shoes while he tries to run away and kicks his feet around.
In movies super heros are treated with respect... and awe. No one can believe how powerful they are and they are forever in dept to their service. Superman never had to tell one of the people he saved to say, "Thank you". Wonderwoman never had to prompt- "Now what do you say, Dear?"
I've got no super powers. At best, I have super hearing... but that's only because of the baby monitors we have around the house. Instead I have to figure out how to prepare Josh's oatmeal, put on his socks and pick out the right pants all at the same time that I am buttering Liam's english muffin and putting it on a blue plate (god forbit it's pink) with apple juice in a glass cup. Plus there's the stuff they don't think about that a mom does need to remember... like returning library books, vacuuming the floors and washing winter coats because they keep rubbing up against the dusty salty car.
Or maybe I'm just reading into it too much. Maybe Joshua just called me "Super Mommy" because he wanted me to stop worrying so much about the vacuuming, whose spoon is on the floor and what flavor oatmeal he asked for. Maybe he wanted me to just stand with him on the sofa and take a flying leap and then a roll onto the floor. Maybe he just wanted me to play Super Heros with him... after I put on his socks.
This makes sense because he insists on me immediately providing him with oatmeal even when he can see me taking steps to prepare it with his own two eyes. I can even say, "I'm heating the water for your oatmeal." and then Joshua will reply, "Where's my oatmeal?" When it comes to breakfast, neither of the boys seem to really care about my dining experience. I may have just sat down with a nice bowl of crunchy frosted mini-wheats, when in no time at all I am told by one of the boys, "I am out of milk" or "I dropped my spoon". I look around the room trying to figure out who they are telling this to. Surely, they don't expect me to jeopardize my cereal to help them. But actually, they do. I wonder if they think I have super speed that allows me to conjure up their breakfasts without my own suffering with soggy cereal. Or maybe they think I'm so invincible that soggy cereal is no concern for me. Perhaps that's the case.
Speaking of meals, I want to know why it is that no matter what I ask Joshua he wants to eat, he somehow always decides to change his mind once the meal is served to him. Again, perhaps he thinks I have super powers to reverse time and prepare him his new choice instead of what is in front of him. The other day we packed our lunch for a day trip. I have several witnesses who can attest that he did actually agree to peanut butter and jelly... and yet when we opened the lunch bag he wanted ham and cheese and insisted that he had asked for that in the first place. Since I have no powers of time travel, I was only able to convince him to eat what I had made him (so he could then have his pudding).
It seems that the boys really do think I am powerful enough to multi-task like a super hero. They really do think I can get their drink at the same time that I am vacuuming or that I can find the remote when it's buried under couch cushions. When I get Joshua dressed every morning he yells at me... literally yells at me... to put on his socks- while I am still putting on his pants. As if I could do both at once... as if. I'll tell you what's super human; putting on this kids' shoes while he tries to run away and kicks his feet around.
In movies super heros are treated with respect... and awe. No one can believe how powerful they are and they are forever in dept to their service. Superman never had to tell one of the people he saved to say, "Thank you". Wonderwoman never had to prompt- "Now what do you say, Dear?"
I've got no super powers. At best, I have super hearing... but that's only because of the baby monitors we have around the house. Instead I have to figure out how to prepare Josh's oatmeal, put on his socks and pick out the right pants all at the same time that I am buttering Liam's english muffin and putting it on a blue plate (god forbit it's pink) with apple juice in a glass cup. Plus there's the stuff they don't think about that a mom does need to remember... like returning library books, vacuuming the floors and washing winter coats because they keep rubbing up against the dusty salty car.
Or maybe I'm just reading into it too much. Maybe Joshua just called me "Super Mommy" because he wanted me to stop worrying so much about the vacuuming, whose spoon is on the floor and what flavor oatmeal he asked for. Maybe he wanted me to just stand with him on the sofa and take a flying leap and then a roll onto the floor. Maybe he just wanted me to play Super Heros with him... after I put on his socks.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
What's Your Toy-Q?
Anyone who has tried to carry on a conversation with me over the past five years can probably attest to the fact that I'm a lot less sharp than I used to be. See, before kids I would have used the word "articulate". Granted, I've always had trouble splitting a check with friends (with tip) but now it seems like I'm even more dumb than before. I'm so dumb that I can't even think of a good example about how dumb I am right now (I may very well think of six once I'm done posting). Now I think I know why I'm not so smart anymore. It's my theory that all 110 points of my IQ (this is not confirmed, just a guess) are being wasted at classifying kids' toys. Now you can give it a try... What's your toy IQ? Two points for every answer- one for a correct type of toy and a second point if you can name the brand!
Disclaimer: This quiz might be only slightly gender biased... I don't have any Polly Pocket dresses lying around. But I did try to choose gender neutral toys for the purpose of fairness.
1. 
2.
3.
4.
5.
6. 
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
Well? How did you do? Let's find out if you're as smart as me (which means you've likely diverted most of your intelligence to toy classification too).
1. Lincoln Logs window
2. Candy Land man
3. Mr. Potato Head's ear
4. Elefun butterfly
5. Red cylinder puzzle block (by ?)
6. Red wooden block by Imaginarium (I think)
7. Fisher Price doctor kit blood pressure bulb
8. Let's Go Fishing (blue fishy)
9. Ants In My Pants (green ant that looks more like a grasshopper)
11. Nerf dart gun
12. Silly Band guitar
13. Rock and Roll Mr. Potato Head's earring
14. Chameleon from the dentist's office grab bag (notice how he is camouflaged to match the stains on my table)
15. Peas
16. Batman's bat thingy from Imaginext
17. Stylus for Nintendo DS
18. Trio block
19. Bristle blocks by Playskool
20. Stinker from Uno Moo
21. I have no idea what this is. I found it at the bottom of a toy box. You get an extra 20 points if you know what this is and you post a comment.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Romance
I love cheese... but I hate cheesiness. And that is why I need to apologize to many of you. I'm sorry if some of my posts have caused you to throw up in your mouth a little bit. I know, it's gross... but so are inspirational quote books. That being said, it is Valentine's Day and I do need to be a little bit romantic. I will do my best to write a Valentine that won't make you gag... too much.
A few years ago when I had time to talk philosophically (clearly before kids), I asked a good friend who is also a male to tell me the most romantic gesture he could think of. He said it was to take a delicate necklace and to wrap it around a single rose. I almost cried... laughing. No, that's not romantic to me at all. And neither is a 4 foot teddy bear that I would just put in my kids' room. I'll tell you that over the years I've gotten a lot of flowers from Bill (that's because we've been together for a long time, not because he gets me a lot of flowers). The most romantic flowers I remember ever getting from him was 4 roses. I'm not 100% sure but I think it was for our 6 month anniversary. We were teenagers and I was at a friends' house waiting for him and he showed up late and I was furious. And then I got 4 roses and I was confused. What was the significance of 4 roses? Apparently the other two had a mis-hap and got... well deflowered. I couldn't get too mad... after all, here he was... with 4 roses and a funny story that I can't fully remember now. But I do remember this- that they were very pretty roses and I didn't stay mad at him because dropping two roses on the ground and bringing me the other 4... well, for some reason that's romantic to me.
Most recently the most romantic gesture I've received is... a full tank of gas. I got into my car in the school parking lot, ready to head home and there it was... a full tank of gas in a car that was running close to empty. Bill had been "in the neighborhood" and decided to fill up the tank. He also left my seat in the far back position, which kind of gave away who had performed this awesome deed. Of course, that's not his only romantic gesture of late. He's in the process of fixing our furnace- which included weeks of troubleshooting and waking up in the middle of the night to turn it back on so we didn't wake up as icicles. He has cooked us ribs, steak tips, chicken wings, frozen pizza and cheeseburger surprise... all in the last two weeks. He got me new tires and paid extra to get me all 4... because it's safer that way. He doesn't complain when I snore. He's mid-way through reading the Chronicles of Narnia to Liam (we've agreed, I'll read the series to Joshua). He lets me drink coffee out of his mug every morning. He saved us over $1200 in airfare for our first official family vacation in, well, never. Come to think of it, this is a guy I could probably stay married to for, well, forever.
Sorry if I just made you throw up in your mouth a little bit.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Getting the Wrong Ideas
Early on I have tried to instill self-monitoring in my children. This is to say, I'm too lazy to get off the couch and stop their poor behavior. Often I will say, "It seems like a bad idea"... instead of outright saying "NO" or "I'll go get your father if you don't stop that." And like most brothers, these guys have had their fair share of Bad Ideas.
Hiding a Christmas stocking full of candy under a couch cushion is clearly a bad idea. If you are going to be sneaky, you should hide candy somewhere where it is actually hidden. I would suggest in your room. The couch is too public a place and the raised up cushion is just too obvious. On the off chance that someone will sit down anyway, you are also running the risk of melted chocolate and broken candy canes. Bad Idea.
Cutting your own hair to make a reverse mohawk is also a bad idea. If you are in the mood to cut hair, instead of practicing on your own, I would suggest cutting your little brother's hair instead. It's not such a big deal for a baby to have a bad haircut... but a Kindergartner? Now that's just uncool. What's worse, your mom might find your bad haircut hilarious and make you suffer by not getting you a real haircut for 2 weeks after the bad cut. Then you will have to walk around with the middle part of your bangs cut to the scalp while the rest of your bangs cover your eyes. I do appreciate that you used kiddie scissors but... Bad Idea.
For some reason the kids really do think our couches are jungle gyms. They like to run across the cushions and really have no preference for the cushions being on the couch or on the floor. Either way, they leap to and fro. They make loops around the living room. Despite many pleas and shouts from parents, part of this loop involves a drop from the arm of the sofa to the floor. This is not expensive furniture and there are obvious concerns over the wood frame breaking but I'm more concerned with the possible broken necks as they slide from the arm to the floor. Inevitably someone ends up on top of someone else and there there is the obligatory crying. Bad Idea.
Lollipops are great parenting strategies... or tools... or whatever you want to call them. Lollipops can persuade a child to sit quietly while Mommy and Daddy go holiday shopping. They can reward someone for calmly sitting to get their hair cut (to correct their mistake with kiddie scissors). Lollipops are a great treat, it's true, but walking around with a lollipop in your hand and not eating it right away... is not such a great idea. Give it some time, you will drop the lollipop and it will be covered in hair from the hair salon's waiting room carpet. That's why, if Mommy gives you a lollipop, you should enjoy it right away instead of walking around with it. That's a Bad Idea.
This shouldn't surprise me. When Bill and his brothers were little I hear they rode down the stairs in a laundry basket. Bad Idea. He also washed a car... with charcoal lighter fluid. Bad Idea. While Bill was learning life lessons, I was too. I learned that if I thought it was fun to jump in the town sandpit barefoot, there were just as many people who found it fun to drink and throw bottles in that same sandpit and that I was bound to land barefoot onto one of those broken bottles. Bad Idea. No, it really shouldn't surprise me. I once cut my bangs too after all... right to the scalp... when I was in middle school. As if I wasn't enough of a dork in middle school, I had to wear a thick elastic headband for several weeks until it was presentable (actually it still wasn't presentable a couple of weeks later, but I was a dork anyway so it wasn't that big a deal... plus this was back in the day when curling and spraying bangs was the norm). Anyway, I agree about cutting hair. It's a Bad Idea.
Bad Ideas seem about as inevitable as toothpaste on the bathroom counter. They're just going to happen. You can warn against them, but some life lessons need to be learned on their own.
Sometimes you need to learn lessons the hard way. I suppose I learn lessons from my own Bad Ideas each and every day. I don't try to cut my own hair anymore and I've completely stopped having fun in a dare-devilish way. I don't remember the last time I saw Bill coast down the stairs in a laundry basket. Here's to hoping that next time Joshua gets a lollipop, he'll just enjoy it right away instead of coveting and then dropping it. And here's to hoping that Liam will not cut his own hair again... or Joshua's for that matter. And as for the Christmas stocking... seriously Liam, find a better hiding spot.
Hiding a Christmas stocking full of candy under a couch cushion is clearly a bad idea. If you are going to be sneaky, you should hide candy somewhere where it is actually hidden. I would suggest in your room. The couch is too public a place and the raised up cushion is just too obvious. On the off chance that someone will sit down anyway, you are also running the risk of melted chocolate and broken candy canes. Bad Idea.
Cutting your own hair to make a reverse mohawk is also a bad idea. If you are in the mood to cut hair, instead of practicing on your own, I would suggest cutting your little brother's hair instead. It's not such a big deal for a baby to have a bad haircut... but a Kindergartner? Now that's just uncool. What's worse, your mom might find your bad haircut hilarious and make you suffer by not getting you a real haircut for 2 weeks after the bad cut. Then you will have to walk around with the middle part of your bangs cut to the scalp while the rest of your bangs cover your eyes. I do appreciate that you used kiddie scissors but... Bad Idea.
For some reason the kids really do think our couches are jungle gyms. They like to run across the cushions and really have no preference for the cushions being on the couch or on the floor. Either way, they leap to and fro. They make loops around the living room. Despite many pleas and shouts from parents, part of this loop involves a drop from the arm of the sofa to the floor. This is not expensive furniture and there are obvious concerns over the wood frame breaking but I'm more concerned with the possible broken necks as they slide from the arm to the floor. Inevitably someone ends up on top of someone else and there there is the obligatory crying. Bad Idea.
Lollipops are great parenting strategies... or tools... or whatever you want to call them. Lollipops can persuade a child to sit quietly while Mommy and Daddy go holiday shopping. They can reward someone for calmly sitting to get their hair cut (to correct their mistake with kiddie scissors). Lollipops are a great treat, it's true, but walking around with a lollipop in your hand and not eating it right away... is not such a great idea. Give it some time, you will drop the lollipop and it will be covered in hair from the hair salon's waiting room carpet. That's why, if Mommy gives you a lollipop, you should enjoy it right away instead of walking around with it. That's a Bad Idea.
This shouldn't surprise me. When Bill and his brothers were little I hear they rode down the stairs in a laundry basket. Bad Idea. He also washed a car... with charcoal lighter fluid. Bad Idea. While Bill was learning life lessons, I was too. I learned that if I thought it was fun to jump in the town sandpit barefoot, there were just as many people who found it fun to drink and throw bottles in that same sandpit and that I was bound to land barefoot onto one of those broken bottles. Bad Idea. No, it really shouldn't surprise me. I once cut my bangs too after all... right to the scalp... when I was in middle school. As if I wasn't enough of a dork in middle school, I had to wear a thick elastic headband for several weeks until it was presentable (actually it still wasn't presentable a couple of weeks later, but I was a dork anyway so it wasn't that big a deal... plus this was back in the day when curling and spraying bangs was the norm). Anyway, I agree about cutting hair. It's a Bad Idea.
Bad Ideas seem about as inevitable as toothpaste on the bathroom counter. They're just going to happen. You can warn against them, but some life lessons need to be learned on their own.
Sometimes you need to learn lessons the hard way. I suppose I learn lessons from my own Bad Ideas each and every day. I don't try to cut my own hair anymore and I've completely stopped having fun in a dare-devilish way. I don't remember the last time I saw Bill coast down the stairs in a laundry basket. Here's to hoping that next time Joshua gets a lollipop, he'll just enjoy it right away instead of coveting and then dropping it. And here's to hoping that Liam will not cut his own hair again... or Joshua's for that matter. And as for the Christmas stocking... seriously Liam, find a better hiding spot.
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