My friend Leigh Anne, affectionately known as LuLu to Zachary, has saved the day for Chad and I over the past couple of weeks and taken Z on "dates" for the two of them. She had two stories to share with us:
Zachary does something for Leigh Anne, and she says "Gracias. Do you know what that means?" And he says "I think it is a bad word." It seems Spanish class at TLC is not really paying off for us.
But this one is for Uncle Andrew:
Z and LuLu were in store at the mall and someone walked out with something causing the security system to go off which makes Zachary say "Oh my LuLu -- that is quite alarming!"
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Move Mom to Yellow
I purchased a bunch of pants, leggings, and tights for Rylee yesterday. I was showing Chad my purchases and explaining that shirts can go with pants and not tights but sometimes leggings and dresses can go with leggings and tights but not really pants, etc. Chad looks at me like I have lost my mind, covers his ears, shuts his eyes, shakes his head, and groans really loudly.
Zachary was sitting with us and asked "What is wrong with Dad?"
I said "I think I pushed dad over the edge with my Rylee dress code."
Zachary very seriously responds "You pushed dad over the edge?? I think I need to change your color for that."
Zachary was sitting with us and asked "What is wrong with Dad?"
I said "I think I pushed dad over the edge with my Rylee dress code."
Zachary very seriously responds "You pushed dad over the edge?? I think I need to change your color for that."
Jesus Really Loves Everyone
Driving the kids home from school last week, I passed by a Halloween store that has a HUGE blow up Frankenstein. Zachary points it out and asks "Who is the big green guy?"
I tell him "Frankenstein."
He says "Oh yeah - Frankenstein - he's friends with Jesus."
That right there made me laugh. Z is not too keen on being laughed at when he is not trying to be funny. So he says "Frankenstein and Jesus ARE friends. Jesus told him to build a boat."
I look back at him and say "Honey - I think that is Noah."
He says "Oh, Noah. Hmmm. No I really think it was Frankenstein."
I tell him "Frankenstein."
He says "Oh yeah - Frankenstein - he's friends with Jesus."
That right there made me laugh. Z is not too keen on being laughed at when he is not trying to be funny. So he says "Frankenstein and Jesus ARE friends. Jesus told him to build a boat."
I look back at him and say "Honey - I think that is Noah."
He says "Oh, Noah. Hmmm. No I really think it was Frankenstein."
Monday, September 28, 2009
Just so you know...
I called Zachary my little boy yesterday and he informed me that he is not my little boy.
"Mom, I am not a little boy. I am a medium boy. Because I growed."
"Mom, I am not a little boy. I am a medium boy. Because I growed."
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Crossroads
So I am at one of those points that I am sure will either damage my son forever or teach him how to push past the fear and grow as a person.
Z took swim lessons all summer long - every Wednesday. He did very well - in fact the teacher recommended he move up a level midway through. He volunteered for everything - to go first, to jump in the pool, to be the demonstration - and he looked forward to swim lessons.
Then something happened. The second to last lesson his dream came true. The teacher said he could go down the slide after class. Well he came down quicker than she anticipated and she didn't catch him. After class he told me he would not be doing the slide again. Then after his final class, he told me that he didn't like swim lessons and didn't want to come back anymore. I told him that he started his new class the next week and he said that he wouldn't be going underwater. So I asked him to wait and see what the new teacher was like.
The next Wed was his first class of the advanced beginners with the new teacher. He seemed happy and excited. I went and took my post in the viewing deck and when it was his turn, he started to cry. Not a hollering bawling tantrum cry but a scared, weepy, trying to fight through it cry. For 30 minutes, I watched my son on his turns cling to his swim teacher with a death grip and cry while trying to swim. When it wasn't his turn, he would hop out of the pool and stand and cry. I think my heart broke in a way it has never broken before that day.
I met with the teacher afterwards and she said he can swim. He held on to her but he was doing everything else on his own. She said its nerves and he'll get over it. As I held him shivering in his towel, with his poor sad face, he looked at me and said "Mom, I cried." I told him that it was ok -- I had no clue what else to say in that moment.
Week 2: Z is changing for swim lessons, we are at the pool, and he says he doesn't want to go. I asked him why this time and he says that he doesn't want her, the teacher, to let go of him. I tell him that he needs to talk with his teacher, explain that he is scared, and why he is scared, and she will help. He stops getting ready and looks at me - with that sad face -- and says "Mom I really do not want to go. I am very scared." He again is not pitching a fit or throwing a tantrum. He is genuinely scared.
I am not proud but I resort to a bribe. Please don't roll your eyes at this but I was at a loss. I can't think that quickly. I tell him he can pick out a cookie after swim lessons. I remind him to talk with his teacher and tell her what he is feeling.
So fewer tears this lesson but much much clinging. You can't really swim holding on to someone.
At the end of the lesson, he tells his teacher and everyone -- I get a cookie! So now the world knows I have bribed my son. I am so embarrassed. But strangely proud that Z fought through the fear. But he fought for a cookie. What have I done?!
After he has changed and dried off, we go to pick out the cookie. Before he takes a bite, I tell him that he is getting this cookie because even though he was scared, he tried his best anyway. I made him repeat it to me and tell his dad later why he got the cookie. Because although he was scared, he tried and did his best.
That was last week. He told me yesterday he really does not like swim lessons and doesn't want to go anymore. He has some private swim time with his teacher tonight to help his comfort level before class tomorrow but he is so apprehensive.
So here is my crossroads. If after this private lesson he is still scared, do I make him go? Does it make him a better person to "fight through the fear" at the age of four? Does it keep him from being a quitter later in life and not giving up when there are challenges? Or does it perpetuate a fear of water? Does it take him two months back before all the progress ? Does he resent me for forcing something that can wait six months to readdress?
It is not like he asked to participate in swim lessons. If he had made the commitment and he didn't want to finish because he was bored then my answer is more clear -- he finishes. But this is not that situation. He shook in fear. He cried tears in fear.
I don't want to be "wussy" mom. I don't want to be "bribe my child" mom. My gut says stick it out - he'll work it out over the next few lessons and honestly that is probably what we will do. But this situation brought to light a bigger drama. How do you know when to push and how do you know when to let your child sit it out? How do you know when he will grow from the experience or when he will be scarred by it? It gives me a headache. It gives me a heartache...I can't make the wrong decision.
Oh well - here is hoping that the private lesson works and that Z will once again enjoy going to swim lessons. Otherwise, I may just keep a stash of Oreos in his swim bag.
Z took swim lessons all summer long - every Wednesday. He did very well - in fact the teacher recommended he move up a level midway through. He volunteered for everything - to go first, to jump in the pool, to be the demonstration - and he looked forward to swim lessons.
Then something happened. The second to last lesson his dream came true. The teacher said he could go down the slide after class. Well he came down quicker than she anticipated and she didn't catch him. After class he told me he would not be doing the slide again. Then after his final class, he told me that he didn't like swim lessons and didn't want to come back anymore. I told him that he started his new class the next week and he said that he wouldn't be going underwater. So I asked him to wait and see what the new teacher was like.
The next Wed was his first class of the advanced beginners with the new teacher. He seemed happy and excited. I went and took my post in the viewing deck and when it was his turn, he started to cry. Not a hollering bawling tantrum cry but a scared, weepy, trying to fight through it cry. For 30 minutes, I watched my son on his turns cling to his swim teacher with a death grip and cry while trying to swim. When it wasn't his turn, he would hop out of the pool and stand and cry. I think my heart broke in a way it has never broken before that day.
I met with the teacher afterwards and she said he can swim. He held on to her but he was doing everything else on his own. She said its nerves and he'll get over it. As I held him shivering in his towel, with his poor sad face, he looked at me and said "Mom, I cried." I told him that it was ok -- I had no clue what else to say in that moment.
Week 2: Z is changing for swim lessons, we are at the pool, and he says he doesn't want to go. I asked him why this time and he says that he doesn't want her, the teacher, to let go of him. I tell him that he needs to talk with his teacher, explain that he is scared, and why he is scared, and she will help. He stops getting ready and looks at me - with that sad face -- and says "Mom I really do not want to go. I am very scared." He again is not pitching a fit or throwing a tantrum. He is genuinely scared.
I am not proud but I resort to a bribe. Please don't roll your eyes at this but I was at a loss. I can't think that quickly. I tell him he can pick out a cookie after swim lessons. I remind him to talk with his teacher and tell her what he is feeling.
So fewer tears this lesson but much much clinging. You can't really swim holding on to someone.
At the end of the lesson, he tells his teacher and everyone -- I get a cookie! So now the world knows I have bribed my son. I am so embarrassed. But strangely proud that Z fought through the fear. But he fought for a cookie. What have I done?!
After he has changed and dried off, we go to pick out the cookie. Before he takes a bite, I tell him that he is getting this cookie because even though he was scared, he tried his best anyway. I made him repeat it to me and tell his dad later why he got the cookie. Because although he was scared, he tried and did his best.
That was last week. He told me yesterday he really does not like swim lessons and doesn't want to go anymore. He has some private swim time with his teacher tonight to help his comfort level before class tomorrow but he is so apprehensive.
So here is my crossroads. If after this private lesson he is still scared, do I make him go? Does it make him a better person to "fight through the fear" at the age of four? Does it keep him from being a quitter later in life and not giving up when there are challenges? Or does it perpetuate a fear of water? Does it take him two months back before all the progress ? Does he resent me for forcing something that can wait six months to readdress?
It is not like he asked to participate in swim lessons. If he had made the commitment and he didn't want to finish because he was bored then my answer is more clear -- he finishes. But this is not that situation. He shook in fear. He cried tears in fear.
I don't want to be "wussy" mom. I don't want to be "bribe my child" mom. My gut says stick it out - he'll work it out over the next few lessons and honestly that is probably what we will do. But this situation brought to light a bigger drama. How do you know when to push and how do you know when to let your child sit it out? How do you know when he will grow from the experience or when he will be scarred by it? It gives me a headache. It gives me a heartache...I can't make the wrong decision.
Oh well - here is hoping that the private lesson works and that Z will once again enjoy going to swim lessons. Otherwise, I may just keep a stash of Oreos in his swim bag.
Vacay Recap by Zachary Martin
I do the blog for convenience to keep track of things and yet I still don't keep up with the blog. Sad comment on my laziness. Thankfully the Espinozas helped with this one. They are geniuses I tell you.
During our vacation to NJ in July, Jess would ask Z what his favorite part of the day was and he always answered with the last thing we did. So Jess suggested when we get home, we break down the vacation into days and had him draw a picture of each day with his favorite thing. While we didn't actually get to the art work, Chad and I did ask him to tell us his favorite thing for each day was and it worked! Even last week, Z recalled his favorite thing from each "event" on our trip to New Jersey.
So before I forget -
The Beach -- Sand Castles
I have to add that the shells freaked him out. He thought they were pinching him when he walked through the sand and that they were still alive. He wanted to "save" them and had us clear out all the shells around our blanket and throw them back into the ocean.
The Boardwalk -- Rainforest Cafe
I think the boardwalk actually had lots of favorites -- the ice cream, the huge candy store, and the pedi-cab Chad and Z took when it was raining. However Z remembers, the alligator, moving animals, and stuff tiger he got at the cafe. Wait till he finds out there is one here in Dallas!
Storybook Land -- The Rollercoaster
My son rode that rollercoaster FIVE times. He actually was quite the adventurer at this park. Now keep in mind the rollercoaster was called "Bubbles the Coaster" to help you identify the level of scariness. Our godson Lucas who is two like the rollercoaster. But over all I was impressed with Z's willingness to try the "scary" rides.
Visiting the Hogans -- The Airplane Ride
So it wasn't exactly a ride but more of a playground equipment thing but Zachary did not want to get off of it. He "flew" all day. Need to ask where they got that thing.
Visiting Gramps -- Couldn't pick between the Pool and the Truck Race
I can understand Z enjoying the pool although the water was WAY cold and no one really did much swimming but Dad, Chad, and Z all took a brief dip in the pool. Then because it was too cold and too early for dinner we hung out in my dad's hotel room (ugh!) and Zachary watched some Truck Race on Speed Network. I don't know how he even found it interesting other than he likes monster trucks. But my son stared at the TV watching these trucks for at least an hour. Who says 4 year olds have a short attention span?
Visiting Uncle Andrew and Aunt Jessie -- The Basement and Thomas Table
Z was in HEAVEN in the Espinoza's basement. It is like FAO Schwartz and ToysRUs combined for him. Lucas has a train table and all of the sudden Z is back into Thomas. The basement has been beautifully redone and it is a great escape for the kids. All of Lucas' toys are downstairs and we could turn the boys loose and let them play. So I think Chad and I vote for the basement too!!
The vacation was really amazing -- being three blocks from the beach, the time with the Espinozas, and of course the basement.
During our vacation to NJ in July, Jess would ask Z what his favorite part of the day was and he always answered with the last thing we did. So Jess suggested when we get home, we break down the vacation into days and had him draw a picture of each day with his favorite thing. While we didn't actually get to the art work, Chad and I did ask him to tell us his favorite thing for each day was and it worked! Even last week, Z recalled his favorite thing from each "event" on our trip to New Jersey.
So before I forget -
The Beach -- Sand Castles
I have to add that the shells freaked him out. He thought they were pinching him when he walked through the sand and that they were still alive. He wanted to "save" them and had us clear out all the shells around our blanket and throw them back into the ocean.
The Boardwalk -- Rainforest Cafe
I think the boardwalk actually had lots of favorites -- the ice cream, the huge candy store, and the pedi-cab Chad and Z took when it was raining. However Z remembers, the alligator, moving animals, and stuff tiger he got at the cafe. Wait till he finds out there is one here in Dallas!
Storybook Land -- The Rollercoaster
My son rode that rollercoaster FIVE times. He actually was quite the adventurer at this park. Now keep in mind the rollercoaster was called "Bubbles the Coaster" to help you identify the level of scariness. Our godson Lucas who is two like the rollercoaster. But over all I was impressed with Z's willingness to try the "scary" rides.
Visiting the Hogans -- The Airplane Ride
So it wasn't exactly a ride but more of a playground equipment thing but Zachary did not want to get off of it. He "flew" all day. Need to ask where they got that thing.
Visiting Gramps -- Couldn't pick between the Pool and the Truck Race
I can understand Z enjoying the pool although the water was WAY cold and no one really did much swimming but Dad, Chad, and Z all took a brief dip in the pool. Then because it was too cold and too early for dinner we hung out in my dad's hotel room (ugh!) and Zachary watched some Truck Race on Speed Network. I don't know how he even found it interesting other than he likes monster trucks. But my son stared at the TV watching these trucks for at least an hour. Who says 4 year olds have a short attention span?
Visiting Uncle Andrew and Aunt Jessie -- The Basement and Thomas Table
Z was in HEAVEN in the Espinoza's basement. It is like FAO Schwartz and ToysRUs combined for him. Lucas has a train table and all of the sudden Z is back into Thomas. The basement has been beautifully redone and it is a great escape for the kids. All of Lucas' toys are downstairs and we could turn the boys loose and let them play. So I think Chad and I vote for the basement too!!
The vacation was really amazing -- being three blocks from the beach, the time with the Espinozas, and of course the basement.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Z Sets the Record Straight (ha!)
Zachary and I had quite an interesting conversation in the car today. It went something like this:
Z: Mom, someday Rylee (he pronounces it like Raleigh, NC) will grow up and get married.
MK: You are right she may get married. Do you think you will get married?
Z: Mom you are silly. Only girls get married.
MK: Really? If only girls get married who do they marry.
Z: They marry other girls mom.
MK: But I am married to Daddy.
Z: Mom we have already been over this - he is a boy he can't get married. (He then proceeds to name every girl he knows and says they can get married)
MK: But MiMi is married to PaPa.
Z: (Loud sigh) No mom - girls are supposed to marry girls. That is just how it is.
Z: Mom, someday Rylee (he pronounces it like Raleigh, NC) will grow up and get married.
MK: You are right she may get married. Do you think you will get married?
Z: Mom you are silly. Only girls get married.
MK: Really? If only girls get married who do they marry.
Z: They marry other girls mom.
MK: But I am married to Daddy.
Z: Mom we have already been over this - he is a boy he can't get married. (He then proceeds to name every girl he knows and says they can get married)
MK: But MiMi is married to PaPa.
Z: (Loud sigh) No mom - girls are supposed to marry girls. That is just how it is.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Prayers before Pizza
After our standard dinner blessing, Chad added in "Please take care of our family" and when we started to make the sign of the cross, Zachary said "No no - I have a prayer too."
"Transformers are good and trying to save the world. Dear God make me a Transformer to save the world. Make me Optimus Prime with guns instead of hands. Amen."
So either my son is not getting this praying thing at all or maybe he is getting it more than I realize.
"Transformers are good and trying to save the world. Dear God make me a Transformer to save the world. Make me Optimus Prime with guns instead of hands. Amen."
So either my son is not getting this praying thing at all or maybe he is getting it more than I realize.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Oh how she has grown...
More documentation since I am too lazy to actually write it in her baby book...
9 month appointment:
18.3 lbs
28" long
12 month appointment:
20.6 lbs - 50%
30.5" long - 90%
She started crawling April 30th -- Chad and I were on vacation so MiMi was the witness - it was her 9 month birthday
She got her two top center teeth May 24th
She got the two top next to center teeth May 30th
- yes they really did come in all around the same time -- four teeth! Overachiever!
Starting walking at school on June 12th and witness by us on June 13th
Two more teeth - bottom - one poked through and one right under the surface July 18th
It seems she only gets teeth on Saturdays! Ok maybe it is a sad comment on the fact that I don't notice these things until the weekend.
Healthy baby girl! We are beyond blessed...
9 month appointment:
18.3 lbs
28" long
12 month appointment:
20.6 lbs - 50%
30.5" long - 90%
She started crawling April 30th -- Chad and I were on vacation so MiMi was the witness - it was her 9 month birthday
She got her two top center teeth May 24th
She got the two top next to center teeth May 30th
- yes they really did come in all around the same time -- four teeth! Overachiever!
Starting walking at school on June 12th and witness by us on June 13th
Two more teeth - bottom - one poked through and one right under the surface July 18th
It seems she only gets teeth on Saturdays! Ok maybe it is a sad comment on the fact that I don't notice these things until the weekend.
Healthy baby girl! We are beyond blessed...
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Z Famous Quotes
While some of these make no sense (and they caused me to say "I am sorry what did you say?") they will certainly make you smile:
"God made waffles from Saturn."
"I am a Caucasian! I am a transformer!"
"Don't cut my toenails - they make me taller."
I saw Z near the bathroom and I yelled (which I seem to do often these days) "Zachary you need to wash your hands" to which he rightfully yelled back " I have to potty first!"
During the year we keep our Christmas tree in the attic and it is an ordeal to pull it down and put it up for storage. At the end of the holidays last year I told Z that it was time to take the Christmas tree down and corrected me "No mom it is time to put the Christmas tree up." He got me on a technicality.
NonAnimated shows are "People Shows"
Carbonated beverages are "Spicy"
Pointing to an RV "Look Mom an annidoe [sounds like antidote w/o the t] - they take lots of people everywhere well except the airport because they don't know how to get to the airport." EDITORS NOTE: Chad pointed out that he is trying to say Winnibago
After eating one of my mother's nasty no sugar, no white flour, lots of fiber muffins he was asked if he liked it to which he responded: "You get used to it."
As a firetruck goes by: "I hope they aren't going to my house. That would be bad." Followed by me saying "You are right that would be bad." To which he replies: "Don't worry Mom - I have a fireman hat and we have a hose. I'll take care of it."
"God made waffles from Saturn."
"I am a Caucasian! I am a transformer!"
"Don't cut my toenails - they make me taller."
I saw Z near the bathroom and I yelled (which I seem to do often these days) "Zachary you need to wash your hands" to which he rightfully yelled back " I have to potty first!"
During the year we keep our Christmas tree in the attic and it is an ordeal to pull it down and put it up for storage. At the end of the holidays last year I told Z that it was time to take the Christmas tree down and corrected me "No mom it is time to put the Christmas tree up." He got me on a technicality.
NonAnimated shows are "People Shows"
Carbonated beverages are "Spicy"
Pointing to an RV "Look Mom an annidoe [sounds like antidote w/o the t] - they take lots of people everywhere well except the airport because they don't know how to get to the airport." EDITORS NOTE: Chad pointed out that he is trying to say Winnibago
After eating one of my mother's nasty no sugar, no white flour, lots of fiber muffins he was asked if he liked it to which he responded: "You get used to it."
As a firetruck goes by: "I hope they aren't going to my house. That would be bad." Followed by me saying "You are right that would be bad." To which he replies: "Don't worry Mom - I have a fireman hat and we have a hose. I'll take care of it."
Thursday, June 11, 2009
God Bless Us...Every One
On the way home from Zachary's swim lessons last night, I stopped at QT for gas. I rolled down his window so that we could chat while I pumped. My phone rings and it is Chad telling me to get home now! Apparently the weather is really bad. I look around and sure it is cloudy but no rain and no bad wind. Granted there is an occasional clap of thunder but nothing that I imagine to be too dangerous. But I promise as soon as I am done filling up, we will head home.
So I turn to Z and starting asking about swim lessons and the Plano city tornado sirens go off and we must have been right next to one. Needless to say, my poor son is trying to remain calm but is freaking out on the inside. Hands over his ears saying over and over Mommy there is a siren! Mommy there is siren!
I get in the car and tell him not to worry that we will head home to be with Daddy and Rylee and the siren is only going off to tell us to get home because a storm is coming. He asks if the siren is from a police car (there was one in the QT parking lot) and I tell him that no it is a siren on top of a pole so that everyone can hear it.
He then says -- "Actually it is Chicken Lickin." Hmmmm.....WHAT?
"It is Chicken Lickin." He is very serious.
I still don't get it. I ask who/what is Chicken Lickin? He says the white chicken. So friends, the confusion you are feeling now - I was feeling then. DO WHAT???
He says the little white chicken with the movie. From some recess of my mind I pull out "Do you mean Chicken Little? The sky is falling Chicken Little?"
He said -- "OOOOHH YES! Chicken Little." So we have made some progress. Chicken Lickin is actually Chicken Little. Now to figure out what this has to do with a tornado siren.
Zachary explains that the noise we are hearing is the siren on top of Chicken Little's car. He is driving around blaring the siren to let people know the storm is coming.
I don't remember the movie but perhaps there is a scene with Chicken Little driving around warning people the sky is falling??? Doesn't really matter - point is the Chicken Lickin situation has been explained.
We get home and the weather has definitely gotten worse. My friend Kat calls and says there is a tornado in Hebron and wanted to make sure I knew. Hebron is getting close to Frisco so we hang up to head for a safe place and the power goes out. My son is on the edge again. He wants Chad and I to turn the lights on.
Ugh. No can do buddy. I hate that he is so worked up but trying so hard to stay calm. When did he grow up?
So Chad, Rylee, Z, and I are sitting in the laundry room with our battery operated lantern listening to the horrid wind shake our garage door. I am trying to distract the family and suggest we say a quick prayer to feel better.
We bow our heads and pray for God's protection for our family, Auntie C, Kendall, and Uncle Todd and for the protection of our friends, family, and loved ones and everyone impacted by the storm. We ask protection for our house too but more to keep us all safe. We say amen and then Zachary says -- God please keep Chicken Little safe too.
Chad has no clue and looks at me -- I give him the "later" look and we ride out the storm.
As I am tucking in Zachary for the night, we say our bedtime prayers. We say our "Now I lay me down" prayer and then I throw in something like: Thank you God for keeping us safe and protecting all of us and getting us through the storm. We are grateful for your blessings.
To which Zachary says "and thank you for Chicken Little and his siren. AMEN."
Thank you dear God indeed. AMEN.
So I turn to Z and starting asking about swim lessons and the Plano city tornado sirens go off and we must have been right next to one. Needless to say, my poor son is trying to remain calm but is freaking out on the inside. Hands over his ears saying over and over Mommy there is a siren! Mommy there is siren!
I get in the car and tell him not to worry that we will head home to be with Daddy and Rylee and the siren is only going off to tell us to get home because a storm is coming. He asks if the siren is from a police car (there was one in the QT parking lot) and I tell him that no it is a siren on top of a pole so that everyone can hear it.
He then says -- "Actually it is Chicken Lickin." Hmmmm.....WHAT?
"It is Chicken Lickin." He is very serious.
I still don't get it. I ask who/what is Chicken Lickin? He says the white chicken. So friends, the confusion you are feeling now - I was feeling then. DO WHAT???
He says the little white chicken with the movie. From some recess of my mind I pull out "Do you mean Chicken Little? The sky is falling Chicken Little?"
He said -- "OOOOHH YES! Chicken Little." So we have made some progress. Chicken Lickin is actually Chicken Little. Now to figure out what this has to do with a tornado siren.
Zachary explains that the noise we are hearing is the siren on top of Chicken Little's car. He is driving around blaring the siren to let people know the storm is coming.
I don't remember the movie but perhaps there is a scene with Chicken Little driving around warning people the sky is falling??? Doesn't really matter - point is the Chicken Lickin situation has been explained.
We get home and the weather has definitely gotten worse. My friend Kat calls and says there is a tornado in Hebron and wanted to make sure I knew. Hebron is getting close to Frisco so we hang up to head for a safe place and the power goes out. My son is on the edge again. He wants Chad and I to turn the lights on.
Ugh. No can do buddy. I hate that he is so worked up but trying so hard to stay calm. When did he grow up?
So Chad, Rylee, Z, and I are sitting in the laundry room with our battery operated lantern listening to the horrid wind shake our garage door. I am trying to distract the family and suggest we say a quick prayer to feel better.
We bow our heads and pray for God's protection for our family, Auntie C, Kendall, and Uncle Todd and for the protection of our friends, family, and loved ones and everyone impacted by the storm. We ask protection for our house too but more to keep us all safe. We say amen and then Zachary says -- God please keep Chicken Little safe too.
Chad has no clue and looks at me -- I give him the "later" look and we ride out the storm.
As I am tucking in Zachary for the night, we say our bedtime prayers. We say our "Now I lay me down" prayer and then I throw in something like: Thank you God for keeping us safe and protecting all of us and getting us through the storm. We are grateful for your blessings.
To which Zachary says "and thank you for Chicken Little and his siren. AMEN."
Thank you dear God indeed. AMEN.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
The Sock Thief
Here is just a random tidbit:
We drift from room to room while doing housework. Rylee does her best to keep up, crawling and playing as she goes. Along the way, she has learned that many things can become a play toy.
Lately, she is been getting a little more daring. She really covets her brother's stuff.
Precisely- his footware.
Rylee will take Zachary's socks and use them as a chew toy.
During the latest heist, she grabbed a [clean] sock and bolted out of the room ("bolting" being a hyper-fast diaper-ripping crawl). She went into Zachary's room with the loot and tried to shut the door. Seeing that the law was on her, she immediately shoved it in her mouth to get a few good chews on the sock in before confiscation.
-CMM
We drift from room to room while doing housework. Rylee does her best to keep up, crawling and playing as she goes. Along the way, she has learned that many things can become a play toy.
Lately, she is been getting a little more daring. She really covets her brother's stuff.
Precisely- his footware.
Rylee will take Zachary's socks and use them as a chew toy.
During the latest heist, she grabbed a [clean] sock and bolted out of the room ("bolting" being a hyper-fast diaper-ripping crawl). She went into Zachary's room with the loot and tried to shut the door. Seeing that the law was on her, she immediately shoved it in her mouth to get a few good chews on the sock in before confiscation.
-CMM
Friday, May 15, 2009
The Streets are now Safe
Today TLC, Z and Rylee's school, is having Community Helper Day where Z's class is supposed to dress up as a Community Helper. Zachary got it into his head that he wanted to be a police officer. We didn't think it would stick but all the way up to last night he talked about being a police officer.
To assist with making him look like a police officer, I bought a very cheap hat and accessories. He wore the hat through out the entire store while I continued shopping. It was amusing to me and the rest of the shoppers as he would say "Officer Zachary here to stop the mean guys" or "Police Officer Zachary to chase cars to make the bad guys stop."
The best is though at home when Zachary got into his "costume" and put on the accessories. The package came with a police baton that looked a little like a shorter smaller version of:
Being the conservative uptight mom, I told him that he could not take that to school. I had visions of the teachers yelling at me that I sent an armed child to school and he was taking care of the bad guys aka classmates.
He didn't understand why I had a problem with him taking it to school. He thought it was a giant whistle or horn. He then stuck the short perpendicular piece in his mouth with the longer portion of the stick up in the air and blew into it trying to make a sound.
Chad and I laughed so hard at our son the police officer with his badge, hat, handcuffs, walkie talkie, and puffing on the baton like a crack pipe. God bless our law enforcement!
To assist with making him look like a police officer, I bought a very cheap hat and accessories. He wore the hat through out the entire store while I continued shopping. It was amusing to me and the rest of the shoppers as he would say "Officer Zachary here to stop the mean guys" or "Police Officer Zachary to chase cars to make the bad guys stop."
The best is though at home when Zachary got into his "costume" and put on the accessories. The package came with a police baton that looked a little like a shorter smaller version of:
Being the conservative uptight mom, I told him that he could not take that to school. I had visions of the teachers yelling at me that I sent an armed child to school and he was taking care of the bad guys aka classmates.
He didn't understand why I had a problem with him taking it to school. He thought it was a giant whistle or horn. He then stuck the short perpendicular piece in his mouth with the longer portion of the stick up in the air and blew into it trying to make a sound.
Chad and I laughed so hard at our son the police officer with his badge, hat, handcuffs, walkie talkie, and puffing on the baton like a crack pipe. God bless our law enforcement!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Live in the Moment
Over a month ago, I read a blog that sent me into a whirlwind blogging frenzy. Per his usual, my blogging guru Stuart posted an entry that inspired me to exam more closely than I wanted my horrid temper and lack of patience with my children. In Stu's Stand Up Comedy, he describes a situation between his son and himself and the actions of a bored tired boy. While I recognize that Stuart does "lose his stuff" on some things, overall his approach to raising his boys is nearly the polar opposite of mine. He lets his boys pee outside and watch the Simpsons while I go crazy if Z drips on the seat and I don't even let Z watch Sponge Bob let alone the Simpsons. I have a huge appreciation for Stu and his Lovely Bride's more laid back style despite my, as previous entry's have pointed out, up tight ways that just may suffocate my children .
ANYWAY, I wrote the temper/discipline blog as honest as I could and for that reason I suppose I am too chicken to post (Sorry Stu -- not there yet with putting it out there!) Boils down to - I ride Z too hard but in the moment I can't seem to remember that I need to chill. Only after time and I simmer down do I realize how I overreact. I am not a patient mother and again times like right now I am embarrassed and hurt that I would ever yell at Z for the things I do and I don't want him to remember me like that or far worse to become like that. Anyone have ideas on how to remove the cob that is shoved pretty far up my hind end? Kudos to Chad to try and balance my skitzo ways with some stable parenting!
So then my sister in law sends the following Mother's Day Post and provides me with another gentle reminder to take it easy, down a notch, and love my children for time is rushing by me as they grow and change every day. I pray that I will remember to Live in the Moment - not worry about pee dribbles or why Z can't sit still for dinner or gets out of bed for the 10th time to tell me he had MacNCheese for lunch at school. I want to enjoy that Rylee is crawling and cruising instead of groaning in frustration that I can't get anything done because she is getting into things. I truly do want to take time with my children like Stuart did to talk not yell about actions and consequences when the time calls for it and I want to just let it go when in the grand scheme of life it really isn't a big deal.
So the challenge to me and to anyone willing to try -- LIVE IN THE MOMENT!
By Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist and Author: All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, have all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations --what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.
Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.
When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there some thing wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China . Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.
Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the, 'Remember-When- Mom-Did Hall of Fame.' The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, 'What did you get wrong?'. (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?
But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.
Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
ANYWAY, I wrote the temper/discipline blog as honest as I could and for that reason I suppose I am too chicken to post (Sorry Stu -- not there yet with putting it out there!) Boils down to - I ride Z too hard but in the moment I can't seem to remember that I need to chill. Only after time and I simmer down do I realize how I overreact. I am not a patient mother and again times like right now I am embarrassed and hurt that I would ever yell at Z for the things I do and I don't want him to remember me like that or far worse to become like that. Anyone have ideas on how to remove the cob that is shoved pretty far up my hind end? Kudos to Chad to try and balance my skitzo ways with some stable parenting!
So then my sister in law sends the following Mother's Day Post and provides me with another gentle reminder to take it easy, down a notch, and love my children for time is rushing by me as they grow and change every day. I pray that I will remember to Live in the Moment - not worry about pee dribbles or why Z can't sit still for dinner or gets out of bed for the 10th time to tell me he had MacNCheese for lunch at school. I want to enjoy that Rylee is crawling and cruising instead of groaning in frustration that I can't get anything done because she is getting into things. I truly do want to take time with my children like Stuart did to talk not yell about actions and consequences when the time calls for it and I want to just let it go when in the grand scheme of life it really isn't a big deal.
So the challenge to me and to anyone willing to try -- LIVE IN THE MOMENT!
By Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist and Author: All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, have all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations --what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.
Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.
When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there some thing wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China . Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.
Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the, 'Remember-When- Mom-Did Hall of Fame.' The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, 'What did you get wrong?'. (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?
But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.
Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Ponderance of the Hour
I don't know the right answer to this question so I pose it to you:
If Chad did not notice my smiley behind until the store or say at a cocktail party -- does he mention it to me once we are out at the event and I die of embarrassment or does he not say a thing and let me live in ignorance???
POST SCRIPT ENTRY: OK the winner is STUART TINSLEY of Team Tinsley fame...once again having to point out the obvious to me. Must say a little embarrassing not to have figured it out on my own!!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Overdue Update
Since Rylee has her 9 month appointment on Monday -- I thought I should probably record her six months stats from her appointment in January and Z's 4 year appointment in Feb.
RYLEE
6 months:
26 1/2 inches long
16 1/2 pounds
- Got her first tooth Feb 7th and second March 7th.
- Finally started rolling on Feb 21st.
- Bumper Pad went away on March 8th...see the QPM entry from March and you'll understand
- She is WAY different than Zachary. She is not consistently sleeping through the night. Makes for grouchy parents.
- She can tell the difference between Chad and my parenting styles and adjusts her needs as such. This means she will cry relentlessly if she needs something from me because I am a wimp and will respond. With Chad she needs only giggle and blink because crying with him gets her no where.
- She loves to stand and last weekend did make crawling motions.
- She has a wonderful laugh and she likes to put her finger in your mouth and yank it right back out.
- Anything Zachary does entertains her.
She does not like having to eat her veggies first. If you bring out her fruit and put it on the table but don't plan on giving it to her until after veggies, there will be a battle. - Still nursing but this week only once a day and that will go away next week. Still drinking the frozen milk but I am not pumping (YAY!) --- TMI I know
ZACHARY
4 years old
41 inches tall
37 pounds
- His latest thing is to say "My Pleasure." when you thank him for something. Cracks me up.
- He can count to over 30 and can count backwards from 20.
- He is still working out the math situation - we asked him what one plus one is and he said "Eleven" - fair enough one and one can make 11.
- He did get glasses - he is 20/50 in one eye but both eyes have an astigmatism. Dr. hopes that wearing glasses now will help how much he needs them in the future.
- I think his entire diet includes dino chickens (chicken in the shape of dinosaurs), Spiderman Mac-N-Cheese (remember he has never seen the movie!), milk, and a strong desire for candy at every moment. He'll still eat broccoli, green beans, carrots, and corn but it takes some gentle nudging.
- His teacher always have such good things to say about him -- while I am sure they are on some level required to say that I do believe they are right about him being smart, friendly, and a good kid...said the unbiased mother.
- Still working on the staying dry through the night but definitley no accidents during the day. Couldn't tell you the last time we had an issue. However there is something about being in Target that triggers his "gotta go" reflex. I can ask him 15 times before we start shopping if we need to stop at the bathroom but only when the cart is half full is it time.
- Current obsessions include Bolt, Legos (building castles and playing with knights), and occasionally still WallE.
Chad and I are blessed with two very healthy kiddos. We are thankful to God for his blessings.
Happy Easter to all!
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Check Out the Intestines!
I know Chad and I have to get on the ball with some real posts but this is still cracking me up and instead of forwarding to all of you via email I am sharing on the blog -- my children will have proof of how geeky I am or actually how geeky their dad is since he sent it to me!!
Slumber in the Belly of the Beast
In the sub-zero wasteland of the planet Hoth, only the strong survive... and of course those lucky Jedi protected by the thick skin of a Tauntaun. Now after exhaustive movie viewing research and analysis ThinkGeek Labs has isolated the exact synthetic compounds needed to re-create Tauntaun fur. What have we done with this supreme knowledge? Created a Tauntaun sleeping bag of course.
This high-quality sleeping bag looks just like a Tauntaun, complete with saddle, internal intestines and glowing lightsaber zipper pull. Now when your kids tell you their favorite Star Wars movie is "Attack of the Clones" you can nestle the wee-ones snug in simulated Tauntaun fur while regaling them with the amazing tale of "Empire Strikes Back".
Use the glowing lightsaber zipper pull on the Tauntaun sleeping bag to illustrate how Han Solo saved Luke Skywalker from certain death in the freezing climate of Hoth by slitting open the belly of a dead Tauntaun and placing Luke inside the stinking (but warm) carcass. If your kids don't change their tune on which Star Wars film is the greatest ever, you can do your best Jar Jar impression until they repent.
Product Features
- Classic Star Wars sleeping bag simulates the warmth of a Tauntaun carcass
- Built-in embroidered Tauntaun head pillow
- Glowing Lightsaber zipper pull
- Great for playing pretend "Save Luke from the Wampa" games
- Teach your children about the best Star Wars movie ever
- Fully Licensed Lucasfilm™ Collectable
- Fits children (and small adults)
- 100% Polyester construction, Machine washable
- Exterior Dimensions - 32" x 60"
check out: http://www.thinkgeek.com/stuff/41/tauntaun.html for original post
Monday, March 16, 2009
This May Qualify as a QPM
Ummmm where is Rylee's head????
Maybe it is time to take out the bumper....
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
To Spot or Not
So today is the start of Lent -- the 40 day count down to Easter (less Sundays!) and we Catholics start it off with Ash Wednesday. My friend Lady Steele and I went to mass together over lunch and after the service we both turned to each other and said -- "How long do we leave them on?"
This question is one I deal with every year. The first reading during mass is all about not "showing off" your sacrifices, commitments and your suffering. Don't boast about your fasting and yet I leave mass with a big black mark highlighting my trip to mass and my journey into lent.
I feel like the ashes are just a beacon for people to mention that I have dirt, grease, or a smudge of the unknown on my forehead. Then I have to tell them "Oh no it is supposed to be there -- it's not a spot-it's a cross...of ash. It's Ash Wednesday." That then leads to the question I HATE the most -- "So what are you giving up?" If I am giving something up, that is definitely between God and myself. My sacrifices or commitments to do something are very personal even if it is just chocolate or not listening to the radio on the way to work to spend time in prayer. Not really your business. But I am wearing this very obvious black mark on my head that will make people ask.
So that leads me again to the reading -- don't boast or show off -- and yet I wear a big mark that says asks me why this is on my head.
Lady Steele pointed out that we are also to minister and share our faith and this is a perfect time. Explain what Lent is about and how we take time to become closer to God during this season. While she is utterly and completely correct, it doesn't take away that we will get asked "What are you giving up?" Dodging that question doesn't make me popular either. I try in the nicest way possible to say Not Your Business and people either continue to goad - "come on -- what is it?" Or get huffy and say - "I am just asking."
So back to the original question: How long do we leave these on? Mine made it to about 4 pm when a co-worker snickered in my doorway. He said it looked like a giant target on my forehead.
This question is one I deal with every year. The first reading during mass is all about not "showing off" your sacrifices, commitments and your suffering. Don't boast about your fasting and yet I leave mass with a big black mark highlighting my trip to mass and my journey into lent.
I feel like the ashes are just a beacon for people to mention that I have dirt, grease, or a smudge of the unknown on my forehead. Then I have to tell them "Oh no it is supposed to be there -- it's not a spot-it's a cross...of ash. It's Ash Wednesday." That then leads to the question I HATE the most -- "So what are you giving up?" If I am giving something up, that is definitely between God and myself. My sacrifices or commitments to do something are very personal even if it is just chocolate or not listening to the radio on the way to work to spend time in prayer. Not really your business. But I am wearing this very obvious black mark on my head that will make people ask.
So that leads me again to the reading -- don't boast or show off -- and yet I wear a big mark that says asks me why this is on my head.
Lady Steele pointed out that we are also to minister and share our faith and this is a perfect time. Explain what Lent is about and how we take time to become closer to God during this season. While she is utterly and completely correct, it doesn't take away that we will get asked "What are you giving up?" Dodging that question doesn't make me popular either. I try in the nicest way possible to say Not Your Business and people either continue to goad - "come on -- what is it?" Or get huffy and say - "I am just asking."
So back to the original question: How long do we leave these on? Mine made it to about 4 pm when a co-worker snickered in my doorway. He said it looked like a giant target on my forehead.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Pass the Valium Please
Back in November my friend Michelle (Ok…so… author) sent me a forward about a little boy named Jamie Bulger. You may or may not remember his story when it happened in 1993 but I assure you if you do any research you will never forget. I have kept this email in my inbox for now three months because it started this blog entry swirling in my head. This three year old little boy is abducted by two ten year old boys and tortured to death. It sucked the breath right out of my body and the horror I felt practically froze me as my imagination created pictures of the unspeakable. It re-enforced my internal struggle of freedom for my son and protection for him – where is that balance? I am sure all of us have heard that God never gives you more than you can handle. So does that mean because I don’t think I can handle my children have something horrific happened to them that they are safe? Or that I need not worry if something does happen to my kids – I can handle it?
From the moment Zachary was born, I have worried about everything - stupid stuff to the more important but definitely everything including raising him to be polite, generous, loving, assertive, and not a weenie doormat. I was (or perhaps should say am) a nerd. Always have been a bit on the social quirky side and definitely not a cool kid. Chad will also tell you he did not have the best of jr high / high school experiences. So our kids receive a double whammy and are already in the negative cool points giving them a harder hill to climb when it comes to making friends, social situations, and basic childhood survival. I am not looking for my kids to win a popularity contest – I want them to be comfortable in their own skin (I know I know - not possible for teenagers) and I do want them to be well liked and not getting wedgies or having ugly things said about them. I am not completely unrealistic – there are growing pains – there will be hurt feelings and lonely feelings because it is a sucky part of the rite of passage but I don’t want my kids to be the geek. I realize as I type how shallow it is but I have to admit it is true. My blog guru wrote about a boy in his son’s class and called him Ralph. I do not want Z or Rylee to be Ralph. Do you think Ralph’s parents know that he is a Ralph?
While both of these incidents are not really related they feed into my insecurities as a parent. I know that I can’t keep my children locked up so that no one abducts them, or no one hurts them physically or emotionally. I realize they will learn and grow with each misstep and each broken heart. I know I can teach them Stranger Danger and to look both ways before crossing the street. I know I can tell them Sticks and Stones and talk about personal space with others. However, I would like it to be clearly outlined please. Tell me how to raise a child that will not be in harm’s way or have a target painted on their back that says please dunk my head in the toilet.
If I promise not to keep him in a bubble, do I get a promise that he will be safe? If I swear that I will let him out of my embrace, can I be assured that at the end of the day he can return to my arms? If I teach him to be conscientious, and gracious, can I be told for sure that he will have strength to stand on his own and not be walked all over. If I encourage him to voice his opinion and believe in himself, can I please have a guaranty that he will not be a bully?
This entry is dripping with drama and perhaps should be two separate entries but there is a part of this production that constantly plays out in my head. I want to keep my kids safe with out stunting them socially. How do you know how tight to hold on? When to step in? When to throw them in the deep end to let them swim? How much is too much and how much is not enough? Has my preoccupation doomed them?
Ugh and sigh….
So how do I stop this obsessive worrying?
Medication?
That’s what I thought.
From the moment Zachary was born, I have worried about everything - stupid stuff to the more important but definitely everything including raising him to be polite, generous, loving, assertive, and not a weenie doormat. I was (or perhaps should say am) a nerd. Always have been a bit on the social quirky side and definitely not a cool kid. Chad will also tell you he did not have the best of jr high / high school experiences. So our kids receive a double whammy and are already in the negative cool points giving them a harder hill to climb when it comes to making friends, social situations, and basic childhood survival. I am not looking for my kids to win a popularity contest – I want them to be comfortable in their own skin (I know I know - not possible for teenagers) and I do want them to be well liked and not getting wedgies or having ugly things said about them. I am not completely unrealistic – there are growing pains – there will be hurt feelings and lonely feelings because it is a sucky part of the rite of passage but I don’t want my kids to be the geek. I realize as I type how shallow it is but I have to admit it is true. My blog guru wrote about a boy in his son’s class and called him Ralph. I do not want Z or Rylee to be Ralph. Do you think Ralph’s parents know that he is a Ralph?
While both of these incidents are not really related they feed into my insecurities as a parent. I know that I can’t keep my children locked up so that no one abducts them, or no one hurts them physically or emotionally. I realize they will learn and grow with each misstep and each broken heart. I know I can teach them Stranger Danger and to look both ways before crossing the street. I know I can tell them Sticks and Stones and talk about personal space with others. However, I would like it to be clearly outlined please. Tell me how to raise a child that will not be in harm’s way or have a target painted on their back that says please dunk my head in the toilet.
If I promise not to keep him in a bubble, do I get a promise that he will be safe? If I swear that I will let him out of my embrace, can I be assured that at the end of the day he can return to my arms? If I teach him to be conscientious, and gracious, can I be told for sure that he will have strength to stand on his own and not be walked all over. If I encourage him to voice his opinion and believe in himself, can I please have a guaranty that he will not be a bully?
This entry is dripping with drama and perhaps should be two separate entries but there is a part of this production that constantly plays out in my head. I want to keep my kids safe with out stunting them socially. How do you know how tight to hold on? When to step in? When to throw them in the deep end to let them swim? How much is too much and how much is not enough? Has my preoccupation doomed them?
Ugh and sigh….
So how do I stop this obsessive worrying?
Medication?
That’s what I thought.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The one I haven't met yet
There is a stranger in the house. Doesn't talk much, basically self centered, but she is making the gradual effort to fit in. A stare here, a giggle there; she is coming around.
I get to meet a little more of her each day.
The unlocking of her little mind is an incredible journey. Each day, some epiphany blooms on her face. Someday soon, I'll forget that she wasn't all here at first. I'll forget that all we got was a cry for communication. But- I hope I also always remember that she was contented to show love by snuggling under my chin. -CMM
I get to meet a little more of her each day.
The unlocking of her little mind is an incredible journey. Each day, some epiphany blooms on her face. Someday soon, I'll forget that she wasn't all here at first. I'll forget that all we got was a cry for communication. But- I hope I also always remember that she was contented to show love by snuggling under my chin. -CMM
Friday, January 23, 2009
Your Daily Dose of QPM
So yesterday morning I faced an interesting dilemma. My son has horrible dry skin issues which also affect his lips. He is constantly licking his lips giving him the raw-peely-you-tell-by-looking-it-hurts lips. Chad and I frequently slather both our children with Aquaphor hoping that their skin will someday be smooth and not so red, bumpy and itchy.
In the rush to get out the door, I was a bad mom. Totally forgot and did not smear my son with the miracle vaseline. So as I was getting him out of the car at school, I notice those poor, pathetic, cracked to point of bleeding (TOLD YOU I was a bad mom) lips. I started digging around my purse for my chapstick and I could only find Burt's Bees tinted lip balm.
Decision time. In this quandary do I:
A. Leave him miserable with those bleeding lips
or
B. Coat his lips with Fig Lip Shimmer
The answer is best summed up by this question from Zachary – “Mommy why are you making me wear lipstick?”
I wonder if he said anything to his teacher or friends. Maybe they didn’t notice the reddish/brown color on my son’s lips. Or maybe his teacher and classmates thought he drank some koolaid at breakfast.
In the rush to get out the door, I was a bad mom. Totally forgot and did not smear my son with the miracle vaseline. So as I was getting him out of the car at school, I notice those poor, pathetic, cracked to point of bleeding (TOLD YOU I was a bad mom) lips. I started digging around my purse for my chapstick and I could only find Burt's Bees tinted lip balm.
Decision time. In this quandary do I:
A. Leave him miserable with those bleeding lips
or
B. Coat his lips with Fig Lip Shimmer
The answer is best summed up by this question from Zachary – “Mommy why are you making me wear lipstick?”
I wonder if he said anything to his teacher or friends. Maybe they didn’t notice the reddish/brown color on my son’s lips. Or maybe his teacher and classmates thought he drank some koolaid at breakfast.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
A Pictures is Worth...A Giggle!
On the trip home from San Angelo after Christmas, Zachary watched Wall-E. The movie got us from San Angelo to almost Cisco (about 2 hrs.) He then pulled out the movie he wanted to watch next (a Thomas one ) and wanted me to switch it out for him. About the same time Rylee woke up and was fussy. I asked Chad if we could stop for a break in Cisco and listening to our two children complain he was happy to oblige.
However when we got to I-20 and Cisco there wasn't a good place to stop so we decided to travel on to Eastland nine miles down the road. We usually stop there anyway, I just thought with antsy kids we could try Cisco -- now we know better.
So I explain to Z that we will stop in about 10 mins and I will change out his movie then. I try to comfort Rylee without seeing her since her seat is behind me. I talk in that annoying sing-song voice and call her name. In the mean time, Zachary keeps asking if I will switch his movie. UGH!
With about two miles to go, I reassure Zachary that we are about to stop and I will change the movie then. Rylee has settled -- either annoyed that we aren't paying attention to her or lulled to contentment by my sing-songing voice.
We exit at Eastland, pull into McDonalds, and I turn around and see this:
Notice the movie on his finger (so he doesn't get fingerprints on the DVD) ready to be changed. In the less than five minutes from my last assurance, he completely passed out.
I told Chad that we should go ahead and stop since I needed to feed Rylee anyway. I open the car door to get her out and she too has passed out in that brief five minutes!!
Crack me up these kids -- vacation -- especially Christmas vacation -- is exhausting!
However when we got to I-20 and Cisco there wasn't a good place to stop so we decided to travel on to Eastland nine miles down the road. We usually stop there anyway, I just thought with antsy kids we could try Cisco -- now we know better.
So I explain to Z that we will stop in about 10 mins and I will change out his movie then. I try to comfort Rylee without seeing her since her seat is behind me. I talk in that annoying sing-song voice and call her name. In the mean time, Zachary keeps asking if I will switch his movie. UGH!
With about two miles to go, I reassure Zachary that we are about to stop and I will change the movie then. Rylee has settled -- either annoyed that we aren't paying attention to her or lulled to contentment by my sing-songing voice.
We exit at Eastland, pull into McDonalds, and I turn around and see this:
Notice the movie on his finger (so he doesn't get fingerprints on the DVD) ready to be changed. In the less than five minutes from my last assurance, he completely passed out.
I told Chad that we should go ahead and stop since I needed to feed Rylee anyway. I open the car door to get her out and she too has passed out in that brief five minutes!!
Crack me up these kids -- vacation -- especially Christmas vacation -- is exhausting!
Monday, January 12, 2009
My Children, My Love
My mom told me when I was pregnant with Zachary that having a child is like having your heart walk around outside of your body. I also remember reading something like that in a Chicken Soup book somewhere along the way. I am quite sure that any parent will attest this statement is very true.
I am stunned at the emotions and feelings my children can illicit just by being them. The joy and the frustration and the wonder – anything they feel effects me. The intensity can be frightening to me.
Over the holidays, Rylee got sick. Like ugly-vomiting-if-wasn’t-sleeping-was-crying sick. At one point, probably about 2 in the morning, I just cried holding her. I love her so much and couldn’t do a thing for her but hold her and pray that the vomiting would end soon. How unfair that she can’t tell me what hurts or what makes her feel better.
This past weekend, Zachary was running a fever over 101 – he felt like he could fry an egg on his forehead. During his sleep, he was shivering, laying in a pool of his sweat, and moaning. At one point he called out for me and I ran into his room wanting to fix it.
I was amazed at how much love I could feel for my child and the helplessness that came with it.
It seems awfully ironic – the people I want to do the most for (specifically Chad, Z, and Rylee) I only have limited things I can do. I look at my kids with their beautiful eyes taking in all that is around them and I cringe at the thought of heartbreak and failures that lie ahead for them – again things I can not control. The tears they will cry from outside forces or self induced decisions and the ones that I will cry along with them scares me a little.
That I can love another so much is a gift. I love Chad with a love I know is from God – there is no way what I feel is something other than divine, holy, and spiritual but that is a blog for another day. With my children it is an awesome power and responsibility. Think Spiderman.
My friend Stephanie (Lady Steele) posted the words to In My Daughter’s Eyes by Martina McBride The wisdom of the iPhone. Although I am not familiar with the song, I was struck by the words and panicked by the pressure. What happens when they figure out I can’t fix everything, I don’t really know all the answers, and I am faking this parent thing? According to Martina, right now they look at me like a hero – strong and wise. Gulp.
There are so many things I am that I don’t want to pass on to my kids. There are so many things I want them to believe and have passion for that aren’t in my makeup. I know who I want to be in my children’s eyes but I am not that person. I know who I want them to be but don’t know how to get them there.
And yet despite the illnesses I can not cure, the tears that will come, the “winging” it with the parental stuff, and the flawed human mom that I am, I am grateful to God that He would trust Chad and me with these two precious lives. Thank you for showing me all that comes with love.
I am stunned at the emotions and feelings my children can illicit just by being them. The joy and the frustration and the wonder – anything they feel effects me. The intensity can be frightening to me.
Over the holidays, Rylee got sick. Like ugly-vomiting-if-wasn’t-sleeping-was-crying sick. At one point, probably about 2 in the morning, I just cried holding her. I love her so much and couldn’t do a thing for her but hold her and pray that the vomiting would end soon. How unfair that she can’t tell me what hurts or what makes her feel better.
This past weekend, Zachary was running a fever over 101 – he felt like he could fry an egg on his forehead. During his sleep, he was shivering, laying in a pool of his sweat, and moaning. At one point he called out for me and I ran into his room wanting to fix it.
I was amazed at how much love I could feel for my child and the helplessness that came with it.
It seems awfully ironic – the people I want to do the most for (specifically Chad, Z, and Rylee) I only have limited things I can do. I look at my kids with their beautiful eyes taking in all that is around them and I cringe at the thought of heartbreak and failures that lie ahead for them – again things I can not control. The tears they will cry from outside forces or self induced decisions and the ones that I will cry along with them scares me a little.
That I can love another so much is a gift. I love Chad with a love I know is from God – there is no way what I feel is something other than divine, holy, and spiritual but that is a blog for another day. With my children it is an awesome power and responsibility. Think Spiderman.
My friend Stephanie (Lady Steele) posted the words to In My Daughter’s Eyes by Martina McBride The wisdom of the iPhone. Although I am not familiar with the song, I was struck by the words and panicked by the pressure. What happens when they figure out I can’t fix everything, I don’t really know all the answers, and I am faking this parent thing? According to Martina, right now they look at me like a hero – strong and wise. Gulp.
There are so many things I am that I don’t want to pass on to my kids. There are so many things I want them to believe and have passion for that aren’t in my makeup. I know who I want to be in my children’s eyes but I am not that person. I know who I want them to be but don’t know how to get them there.
And yet despite the illnesses I can not cure, the tears that will come, the “winging” it with the parental stuff, and the flawed human mom that I am, I am grateful to God that He would trust Chad and me with these two precious lives. Thank you for showing me all that comes with love.
Friday, January 9, 2009
So I will remember when...
This post is for documentation – no punch line at the end…I just want to remember these days.
On Sunday (Jan 4) Rylee started sitting up almost by herself, and then on Monday she was definitely up 15+ seconds. If she leaned forward or backward, she could upright herself like a weeble-wobble however if she tipped right or left she was down for the count.
Then last night when I came home Chad had me run to her room to watch her flip over from her back. She isn’t quite making it all the way but her shoulders and one leg (yes awkward) roll over. Soon enough she’ll be tossing and turning in addition to that leg thumping thing she does at night.
She has had a runny nose (clear snot) for over four weeks now. If I am done with her snot bubbles, heavy panting, and inability to breathe out her nose, I can’t imagine how she is feeling. This nose situation in addition to a scary little cough and an outbreak of RSV at school had me taking her to the doctor on Monday. Apparently she has a cold so we will have to just wait out the snotty nose. But I ask you does a child’s snotty nose really ever run out?
At this same appointment, Dr. Berger asked about the rash that was all over her body. I had noticed the rash and assumed it was eczema because I had been REALLY bad about watching my dairy intake over the holiday (it’s cranberry bliss season people! Who really has the strength to say no to that goodness?!?!!) I had been suffering the guilt only a mother can feel when her lack of willpower causes her sweet innocent baby such ugly harm. Dr. Berger came to my rescue in a sort of twisted way. She said it looked like a strep rash (didn’t even know strep had a rash!) and tested little Ms. R. Sure enough it was strep and even better it's treatable!! After one dose of antibiotics, her rash had faded and by the third dose it was gone completely. Now if that runny nose would just disappear too.
Sunday night I had the greatest time with Zachary. We sat on Chad and I’s bed and he made me “gorgeous.” He took hair brushes, combs, clips, make up brushes, foundation sponges, and eye makeup and he fluffed and patted and yanked and brushed for at least 20 minutes making me “gorgeous.” And that is his word – gorgeous. Chad says it is from a robot in the Wall-E movie. He tries to say it with a bit of an east coast accent along with “I'm good honey – I'm good” also in this strange east coast sounding accent. I would have busted out laughing if I weren’t enjoying all of this attention. He kept saying – “Mommy it takes a lot to make you gorgeous or we still aren’t done-you are not gorgeous yet” – while sounding like backhanded comments to a random observer they were sweet lovely words for a mom being pampered by her son. So on Wednesday after he got his haircut and was sitting in the chair, I said “you look gorgeous.” My little man was mortified. He shook his head and said “No Mommy. Please don’t say that to me.” Was this my first (as I know there will be thousands more) time for embarrassing my son in public?? He is definitely growing up too fast for me to keep up with. He moved to the next room at school – he is PreK 1 with the other four year olds. But he isn’t four! At least not for 39 more days…did I mention it is moving fast?
On Sunday (Jan 4) Rylee started sitting up almost by herself, and then on Monday she was definitely up 15+ seconds. If she leaned forward or backward, she could upright herself like a weeble-wobble however if she tipped right or left she was down for the count.
Then last night when I came home Chad had me run to her room to watch her flip over from her back. She isn’t quite making it all the way but her shoulders and one leg (yes awkward) roll over. Soon enough she’ll be tossing and turning in addition to that leg thumping thing she does at night.
She has had a runny nose (clear snot) for over four weeks now. If I am done with her snot bubbles, heavy panting, and inability to breathe out her nose, I can’t imagine how she is feeling. This nose situation in addition to a scary little cough and an outbreak of RSV at school had me taking her to the doctor on Monday. Apparently she has a cold so we will have to just wait out the snotty nose. But I ask you does a child’s snotty nose really ever run out?
At this same appointment, Dr. Berger asked about the rash that was all over her body. I had noticed the rash and assumed it was eczema because I had been REALLY bad about watching my dairy intake over the holiday (it’s cranberry bliss season people! Who really has the strength to say no to that goodness?!?!!) I had been suffering the guilt only a mother can feel when her lack of willpower causes her sweet innocent baby such ugly harm. Dr. Berger came to my rescue in a sort of twisted way. She said it looked like a strep rash (didn’t even know strep had a rash!) and tested little Ms. R. Sure enough it was strep and even better it's treatable!! After one dose of antibiotics, her rash had faded and by the third dose it was gone completely. Now if that runny nose would just disappear too.
Sunday night I had the greatest time with Zachary. We sat on Chad and I’s bed and he made me “gorgeous.” He took hair brushes, combs, clips, make up brushes, foundation sponges, and eye makeup and he fluffed and patted and yanked and brushed for at least 20 minutes making me “gorgeous.” And that is his word – gorgeous. Chad says it is from a robot in the Wall-E movie. He tries to say it with a bit of an east coast accent along with “I'm good honey – I'm good” also in this strange east coast sounding accent. I would have busted out laughing if I weren’t enjoying all of this attention. He kept saying – “Mommy it takes a lot to make you gorgeous or we still aren’t done-you are not gorgeous yet” – while sounding like backhanded comments to a random observer they were sweet lovely words for a mom being pampered by her son. So on Wednesday after he got his haircut and was sitting in the chair, I said “you look gorgeous.” My little man was mortified. He shook his head and said “No Mommy. Please don’t say that to me.” Was this my first (as I know there will be thousands more) time for embarrassing my son in public?? He is definitely growing up too fast for me to keep up with. He moved to the next room at school – he is PreK 1 with the other four year olds. But he isn’t four! At least not for 39 more days…did I mention it is moving fast?
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Z Quotes
Just a few quick Zachary quotes for the evening:
Tonight he read a story about a pal-a-kitder (The Very Hungery Caterpiller).
Z has figured out what he wants for next christmas: "I want a power ranger, the one with a motorcyle with it. And a tinkerbell."
Tonight he read a story about a pal-a-kitder (The Very Hungery Caterpiller).
Z has figured out what he wants for next christmas: "I want a power ranger, the one with a motorcyle with it. And a tinkerbell."
Friday, January 2, 2009
The QPM Game
I had to tag on to Chad's QPM entry on Dec 30th. I am the queen of QPMs -- in fact Chad may have coined that phrase for me. And as "cute" as the question period is supposed to be in a young boy's life, it can make a parent totally nutty.
Z and I spent the majority of the drive to school in a simple banter:
Z: Why are you dropping me off at school?
MK: Because Daddy is picking you up.
Z: Why is Daddy picking me up?
MK: Because I am dropping you off.
Z: Why are you dropping me off at school?
MK: Because Daddy is picking you up.
Z: Why is Daddy picking me up?
MK: Because I am dropping you off.
Over and over and over
And it is the daily conversations like this that have lead to a HUGE QPM by Chad and me. We have turned this into a game. We have taken this precious time in our son's life and turned it into a competition. Call up CPS now...
Whoever can answer Zachary's question with something that keeps him from asking another or changes the subject gets a point. Whoever can simply stump our son into complete silence gets ten points. Yes we are evil. And after reading about Chad's elephant answer in the previous post, I am sure you know HE is winning.
Z and I spent the majority of the drive to school in a simple banter:
Z: Why are you dropping me off at school?
MK: Because Daddy is picking you up.
Z: Why is Daddy picking me up?
MK: Because I am dropping you off.
Z: Why are you dropping me off at school?
MK: Because Daddy is picking you up.
Z: Why is Daddy picking me up?
MK: Because I am dropping you off.
Over and over and over
And it is the daily conversations like this that have lead to a HUGE QPM by Chad and me. We have turned this into a game. We have taken this precious time in our son's life and turned it into a competition. Call up CPS now...
Whoever can answer Zachary's question with something that keeps him from asking another or changes the subject gets a point. Whoever can simply stump our son into complete silence gets ten points. Yes we are evil. And after reading about Chad's elephant answer in the previous post, I am sure you know HE is winning.
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