I haven't written in almost two months. We have been a family in transition - giving up our house in suburban Sacramento to move onto six acres in the Sierra Nevada mountains - to a tiny town called Colfax. This transition in itself is a big one for our family (and full of plans and dreams), but it was complicated by the fact that we were finishing the house in the mountains to make it inhabitable - it needed a kitchen, flooring, and a bathroom finished to name the biggest projects. So in between kids' activities, making the hour drive to work on the house in every spare minute, packing to move, plus my job mid-semester, it has been crazy to say the least. The fiasco of preparing the house and moving deserves its own blog entry, and perhaps one day I will do that, but for now we are finally settled in - well as much as we can be - and back to the normal crazy that is our life.
In case you haven't yet figured it out, the great transition does not actually refer to this life changing move. The great transition is the time in every developing child's life when they learn to climb out of the crib. I like to believe that there are parents out there that view this time with nostalgia and introspection about their child no longer being a baby. Perhaps there are parents who actually view the day their toddler toddles into their bedroom at five in the morning to wake them as a good thing. As a welcome surprise. I happen to think these parents are fictional or at the very least naive - since they have no idea the torture that a two year old who is no longer trapped in his bed can cause.
So Ellis can climb out of his crib. Since this is my third child, we have learned to try to keep them in the crib until they are close to three as possible, so the first time he appeared outside the crib, I tried to believe it was a fluke. It wasn't. Even though the crib mattress is so low the rail comes to his chin, he has learned to shimmy up the side like a little monkey. The first night we must have put him back in bed 37 times and it was at least midnight before he gave up and fell asleep. For an entire week, we tried to keep him in the crib, and we were even thrilled when we got him to sleep by 10:30 (his normal bedtime is 8pm).
However, we soon realized this battle was futile and thought perhaps we should transition him into a "big boy" bed, so we set up the bunk beds, put a rail on the edge of the bed, and a gate on the door. All the precautions that experience with two other toddler boys told us we would need to conquer the I-just-discovered-I-can-get-out-of-my-bed-whenever-I-want-to two year old. We were fooled. Ellis is much smarter than we. Just as we have learned some tricks through the experiences of parenting his brothers, he too must have learned some tricks from his brothers' experiences (at least that is the only thing I like to believe).
So he gets up - but he doesn't leave his room or make any noise. He just shuts his door, turns on his light, tries to turn on the TV or music, and plays with his toys: until MIDNIGHT when I get up to go to the bathroom and see the light on and discover his misdeeds. This happens two or three nights in a row until I learn to unplug all of the appliances including the light (luckily Emmett is a heavy sleeper and slumbers away on the top bunk while all this fun is happening). So I think I have finally won - I took the toys out of the room too, so he couldn't possibly have anything to do, right? Wrong.
Never underestimate a crafty two year old. This morning I went in there to discover he had peeled the wallies off the wall (that my husband had just hung two days ago) which meant he had to climb on TOP of the turtle cage to reach them. He also managed to pull down the curtains, knock down the radio and all of the books and other items off the shelf. It was utter chaos. Ellis, however, was sound asleep on the TOP bunk next to his brother.
I think it is safe to say he has won. And I hate the great transition from baby to big boy.
Me and the crazy kids
Me and the crazy kids
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Little destroyers...I mean little children.
Kids are notorious for destroying things. I am not the first nor the last parent to have every nice thing I own destroyed by the kids. There is even a great website to showcase this called shitmykidsruined.com. I can relate to that site. I laugh at the pics on there and tell myself I have been lucky that my kids have never done that!
You expect the usual stuff - crayons on walls and food stuck in the carpet. We even tell ourselves that the lamp being knocked over by a ball in the house is a perfectly normal experience. When we have the first child, we are wildly optimistic that the kid will simply LEARN not to touch the breakable things - by the second we start to child proof - by the third we have given up all hope that anything even remotely nice or expensive will survive in the house, so we hide it all.
The first time something valuable to me was ruined was when my first son was two. I had this lovely hand-painted platter I received as a wedding gift. It was on a plate stand on the baker's rack in the kitchen. The kid climbed up and knocked it off, accidentally. I was really upset and mad at my husband for not watching him better, but of course I got over it.
Since then I had numerous things destroyed: at least 5-6 vases, a few lamps, an ottoman, end tables, a kitchen table, two desks, a leather recliner (spilled diffuser oil on it, which discolored it), numerous rugs, carpets, clothing, and the most expensive the 40" flat screen television (via a Wii remote thrown into it), and so many other things that my house is simply a museum of old ruined things that I tell myself not to bother replacing because the destroyers (um, kids) will just ruin them. If you have a prized possession the best way to protect it (if such a thing is really possible) is to wrap it up and stick it in a box in the back of the closet. There is no admiring done in my household of three (okay, four with my husband) rowdy and totally unaware boys.
I have lowered my expectations so much that I often go to lovely furniture and home decorating stores and fantasize about the beautiful, unstained, unscratched, furniture that still has all of its legs and all of its material. I contemplate buying these lovely things or perhaps just one "showcase" piece to enjoy in my house, and then I remember that I live with destroyers. You see, I now choose things to bring into my house based on how long it will be usable (not beautiful) - so the ottoman without buttons, the furniture with purple pen streaking the cushions, the wobbly kitchen table where the leg has been nailed back on 18 times, the chipped and mismatched dishes, all do not matter if they don't look good - it just matters that they serve their purpose (to keep the monsters happy).
This brings me to the most expensive destruction I have had in a while, mostly because I thought the kids had broken everything of value. Yes, something worse than destroying my husband's cherished giant TV. I was cleaning my car out (which I could count the whole car as one giant destroyed item, but that is another story) and letting Ellis play around in it while I was scooping out the garbage. He was pushing buttons and pretending to drive like all small children do when allowed to roam around in the car. After I finished cleaning up, I leaned over the front seat to pick up something from the floor, and I noticed a penny stuck in the car charger plug (it hadn't been working for about a week), and then I see three pennies sticking out of the slot of my 6 disc DVD player. I try to scrape them out and I manage to get one, but the other two just fall inside.
My husband comes home to tear apart the car and take the DVD player out. He manages to remove all of the pennies (four of them) and re-installs the DVD player into the car. When he starts the car, he gets nothing but an error code. We call the car dealership and they tell us that the DVD player is ruined. The cost to replace it $875. Yup. The two year old managed to do $875 worth of damage with some pennies.
The worst part is we are thinking of spending the ridiculous amount of money to replace it. Why? Because the only way we can keep the destroyers from destroying everything else in the car is to keep them entertained with the TV.
You expect the usual stuff - crayons on walls and food stuck in the carpet. We even tell ourselves that the lamp being knocked over by a ball in the house is a perfectly normal experience. When we have the first child, we are wildly optimistic that the kid will simply LEARN not to touch the breakable things - by the second we start to child proof - by the third we have given up all hope that anything even remotely nice or expensive will survive in the house, so we hide it all.
The first time something valuable to me was ruined was when my first son was two. I had this lovely hand-painted platter I received as a wedding gift. It was on a plate stand on the baker's rack in the kitchen. The kid climbed up and knocked it off, accidentally. I was really upset and mad at my husband for not watching him better, but of course I got over it.
Since then I had numerous things destroyed: at least 5-6 vases, a few lamps, an ottoman, end tables, a kitchen table, two desks, a leather recliner (spilled diffuser oil on it, which discolored it), numerous rugs, carpets, clothing, and the most expensive the 40" flat screen television (via a Wii remote thrown into it), and so many other things that my house is simply a museum of old ruined things that I tell myself not to bother replacing because the destroyers (um, kids) will just ruin them. If you have a prized possession the best way to protect it (if such a thing is really possible) is to wrap it up and stick it in a box in the back of the closet. There is no admiring done in my household of three (okay, four with my husband) rowdy and totally unaware boys.
I have lowered my expectations so much that I often go to lovely furniture and home decorating stores and fantasize about the beautiful, unstained, unscratched, furniture that still has all of its legs and all of its material. I contemplate buying these lovely things or perhaps just one "showcase" piece to enjoy in my house, and then I remember that I live with destroyers. You see, I now choose things to bring into my house based on how long it will be usable (not beautiful) - so the ottoman without buttons, the furniture with purple pen streaking the cushions, the wobbly kitchen table where the leg has been nailed back on 18 times, the chipped and mismatched dishes, all do not matter if they don't look good - it just matters that they serve their purpose (to keep the monsters happy).
This brings me to the most expensive destruction I have had in a while, mostly because I thought the kids had broken everything of value. Yes, something worse than destroying my husband's cherished giant TV. I was cleaning my car out (which I could count the whole car as one giant destroyed item, but that is another story) and letting Ellis play around in it while I was scooping out the garbage. He was pushing buttons and pretending to drive like all small children do when allowed to roam around in the car. After I finished cleaning up, I leaned over the front seat to pick up something from the floor, and I noticed a penny stuck in the car charger plug (it hadn't been working for about a week), and then I see three pennies sticking out of the slot of my 6 disc DVD player. I try to scrape them out and I manage to get one, but the other two just fall inside.
My husband comes home to tear apart the car and take the DVD player out. He manages to remove all of the pennies (four of them) and re-installs the DVD player into the car. When he starts the car, he gets nothing but an error code. We call the car dealership and they tell us that the DVD player is ruined. The cost to replace it $875. Yup. The two year old managed to do $875 worth of damage with some pennies.
The worst part is we are thinking of spending the ridiculous amount of money to replace it. Why? Because the only way we can keep the destroyers from destroying everything else in the car is to keep them entertained with the TV.
Monday, September 19, 2011
The shampoo fiasco.
Emmett, otherwise known as the troublemaker, loves soap. He likes soap even better if it has a pump top on it. I get it, really. Who can really resist the pump top on hand soap, body wash, shampoo, or even conditioner? I buy those types of containers because they are easy - and also so the kids can dispense it themselves without much adult help (trust me when you have three kids who need help CONSTANTLY, you find the convenience of even dispensing soap without help a lifesaver). So the great shampoo fiasco is my fault - I readily admit this. I should have known that eventually the great shampoo fiasco would occur.
Now, I know you are wondering what this event could possibly be, but first I have to tell you about the warning signs. When Emmett turned five in January, we decided that he was old enough to bathe alone. Usually, Ethan takes a bath with him, or showers while Emmett bathes in our giant soaking tub in the master bath, so he has some basic supervision. Ethan is typically a rule-follower, so if Emmett starts causing trouble Ethan will come running. Yes, when the five year old bathes alone there is usually a puddle of water on the floor or a bit of a mess - mostly 1000 toys left in the bath tub - but these things are to be expected. Emmett can nicely wash himself and even shampoo his own hair, so we are quite happy that he can bathe by himself now. Here is the minor problem. He loves soap. I buy the Costco size Johnson's bath wash that all of the kids can use as both a body wash and shampoo. It doesn't sting and is really a one-product- fits-all purposes kind of thing. Emmett simply likes to use a lot of it. Again, not a sticking point to have the two oldest children slightly independent. So, for seven months Emmett has been doing okay at bath time. Slight water puddles, tons of toys, and probably too much shampoo - but we can see past that for a half an hour of freedom.
Then, a couple of weeks ago I hear some banging and clunking around upstairs during bath time. I here lots of giggling and I know that trouble must be happening. I head upstairs to see Ethan and Emmett using my bathroom floor as a slip and slide. Ethan announces to me that Emmett "shampooed the floor" and that it is really slippery. So, at this point I lose my mind. I see two inches of bubbles and water on my entire bathroom floor - a good 12 feet by 4 feet. I ask Emmett what shampoo he used, and he points to the Costco size baby shampoo - at least a quart, which is now empty. I mean he actually unscrewed the lid and added water to make sure he got every single drop of soap. Instead of killing both of them - I calmly (and am quite proud of myself) said, "you better get it cleaned up now. Get a mop and scrub this floor until it is dry and not slippery, so I don't fall and break my neck." I must have had the "look" because neither of them said a word. It took them a good 30 minutes but it was done to my satisfaction, but this is not the great shampoo fiasco.
When I came downstairs, I announced to my husband that Emmett needed to be supervised for every bath from now on since he made this crazy mess and used all of the baby shampoo. Two days later my husband lovingly says he is going to head upstairs and give all of the boys baths. I am thrilled that he taking the new supervision rule seriously and watching them, so I don't think twice about it. He comes down an hour later and says all went well and the boys are in bed. I don't think about it again. I was just happy someone else was taking care of the kids, so I could relax for a bit.
The next morning I get up early and hop in the shower. I notice the floor is a little slippery in the shower, and rinse it off before I get in. The day before I had made a Costco trip and bought myself two half gallon sizes of shampoo and conditioner - each has a pump top on them. I wet my hair and reach down and pump shampoo into my hand, and it won't come out. I lift up the container thinking I must need to open it in some way, and feel that it is light. Yes, light -- as in empty. I am puzzled for a minute, and then I lift up the conditioner bottle. It, too, is light. I started to think that maybe I had not bought new bottles the day before. Maybe I hadn't brought them upstairs - were they still downstairs on the dining room table? Nope. I remember bringing them up the night before - right before my husband bathed the kids. So at this point I realize what happened. I am now screaming at my husband at 5:30 in the morning about whether or not Emmett showered or bathed last night. My husband stumbles into the bathroom wondering why I am freaking out -and he says Emmett decided to take a shower. I then calmly explain that Emmett pumped all of the shampoo and conditioner down the shower drain. My husbands is like yeah he does that. I said NO, he pumped ALL of the brand new shampoo AND conditioner down the drain. That is more than a gallon. I get out of the shower and dry off and realize the hand soap (with a pump) on the counter is also gone. So in two days this five year old has managed to pump out over two gallons of liquid soap. All apparently without my husband, who was supervising, noticing.
I asked my husband, "I thought you came up here and supervised while the kids bathed?" and of course, he answered, "I did."
Now, I know you are wondering what this event could possibly be, but first I have to tell you about the warning signs. When Emmett turned five in January, we decided that he was old enough to bathe alone. Usually, Ethan takes a bath with him, or showers while Emmett bathes in our giant soaking tub in the master bath, so he has some basic supervision. Ethan is typically a rule-follower, so if Emmett starts causing trouble Ethan will come running. Yes, when the five year old bathes alone there is usually a puddle of water on the floor or a bit of a mess - mostly 1000 toys left in the bath tub - but these things are to be expected. Emmett can nicely wash himself and even shampoo his own hair, so we are quite happy that he can bathe by himself now. Here is the minor problem. He loves soap. I buy the Costco size Johnson's bath wash that all of the kids can use as both a body wash and shampoo. It doesn't sting and is really a one-product- fits-all purposes kind of thing. Emmett simply likes to use a lot of it. Again, not a sticking point to have the two oldest children slightly independent. So, for seven months Emmett has been doing okay at bath time. Slight water puddles, tons of toys, and probably too much shampoo - but we can see past that for a half an hour of freedom.
Then, a couple of weeks ago I hear some banging and clunking around upstairs during bath time. I here lots of giggling and I know that trouble must be happening. I head upstairs to see Ethan and Emmett using my bathroom floor as a slip and slide. Ethan announces to me that Emmett "shampooed the floor" and that it is really slippery. So, at this point I lose my mind. I see two inches of bubbles and water on my entire bathroom floor - a good 12 feet by 4 feet. I ask Emmett what shampoo he used, and he points to the Costco size baby shampoo - at least a quart, which is now empty. I mean he actually unscrewed the lid and added water to make sure he got every single drop of soap. Instead of killing both of them - I calmly (and am quite proud of myself) said, "you better get it cleaned up now. Get a mop and scrub this floor until it is dry and not slippery, so I don't fall and break my neck." I must have had the "look" because neither of them said a word. It took them a good 30 minutes but it was done to my satisfaction, but this is not the great shampoo fiasco.
When I came downstairs, I announced to my husband that Emmett needed to be supervised for every bath from now on since he made this crazy mess and used all of the baby shampoo. Two days later my husband lovingly says he is going to head upstairs and give all of the boys baths. I am thrilled that he taking the new supervision rule seriously and watching them, so I don't think twice about it. He comes down an hour later and says all went well and the boys are in bed. I don't think about it again. I was just happy someone else was taking care of the kids, so I could relax for a bit.
The next morning I get up early and hop in the shower. I notice the floor is a little slippery in the shower, and rinse it off before I get in. The day before I had made a Costco trip and bought myself two half gallon sizes of shampoo and conditioner - each has a pump top on them. I wet my hair and reach down and pump shampoo into my hand, and it won't come out. I lift up the container thinking I must need to open it in some way, and feel that it is light. Yes, light -- as in empty. I am puzzled for a minute, and then I lift up the conditioner bottle. It, too, is light. I started to think that maybe I had not bought new bottles the day before. Maybe I hadn't brought them upstairs - were they still downstairs on the dining room table? Nope. I remember bringing them up the night before - right before my husband bathed the kids. So at this point I realize what happened. I am now screaming at my husband at 5:30 in the morning about whether or not Emmett showered or bathed last night. My husband stumbles into the bathroom wondering why I am freaking out -and he says Emmett decided to take a shower. I then calmly explain that Emmett pumped all of the shampoo and conditioner down the shower drain. My husbands is like yeah he does that. I said NO, he pumped ALL of the brand new shampoo AND conditioner down the drain. That is more than a gallon. I get out of the shower and dry off and realize the hand soap (with a pump) on the counter is also gone. So in two days this five year old has managed to pump out over two gallons of liquid soap. All apparently without my husband, who was supervising, noticing.
I asked my husband, "I thought you came up here and supervised while the kids bathed?" and of course, he answered, "I did."
Monday, September 5, 2011
The most terrifying thing on the planet: water!
I don't understand what it is about my kids and water. The truth is they love it MOST of the time. If there is a swimming pool, a hose, or even a puddle, they will find it and soak themselves. Usually when wearing their brand new white clothes when we were about to take a family picture - okay you caught me I would never put my three boys in white. So, I am not sure then why my kids HATE to bathe. I know that all children hate to take baths (or showers when they get older), but mine don't actually hate the bathing part. You know being in a tub of water to play - what they HATE more than anything in life is getting their faces wet.
Often when it comes time for me to wash their hair, they will avoid me by trying to go the furthest corner of the tub, then I have to grab them and pull them toward me. I try to calmly explain that if they look up NO WATER will get in their eyes or their face (I have even tried this fancy cup that has a soft edge to rest on their head, and usually give them a washcloth to put over their face), but by this point they are more freaked out then the cat in the bathtub. They are screaming hysterically, clawing at me, and trying to run away from me all at the same time. I think at some point one of the neighbors is going to call the police on me because they think I am killing the children - really, I have even tried to use that as a threat to get the kids to calm down. Of course, after trying to wrestle the kids into position where I can scoop up some water in the cup and pour it over their head to try to get the shampoo out of their hair, I have lost of all of my patience. I don't want to hear them scream like I am hurting them, I want them to sit still and get over it. I am yelling, soaked, and really irritated over the giant fight over such a small thing. It is just some WATER. They have made the whole experience worse by putting up a fight, so I lose all of my compassion and just start dumping over their heads as quickly as possible.
After the bath is over, their noses are running and they can't catch their breath because they were fussing so much, and they are angry at ME - they will hold it against me the rest of the night. I am exhausted and this is after just wrestling one - still two more to go.
This is not just a small child thing - the two year old gets over it much faster than his brothers. Emmett is the worst. Ethan now showers and washes his own hair, but lies to me and tells me he washed his hair when he didn't - I smell it to make sure. So here is what I really don't get - I have been washing their hair and faces for YEARS, literally, and they don't get used to it, but the moment we go to the swimming pool, they are swimming UNDER WATER.
See it isn't about getting their faces wet at all - I think it is about making me crazy.
Often when it comes time for me to wash their hair, they will avoid me by trying to go the furthest corner of the tub, then I have to grab them and pull them toward me. I try to calmly explain that if they look up NO WATER will get in their eyes or their face (I have even tried this fancy cup that has a soft edge to rest on their head, and usually give them a washcloth to put over their face), but by this point they are more freaked out then the cat in the bathtub. They are screaming hysterically, clawing at me, and trying to run away from me all at the same time. I think at some point one of the neighbors is going to call the police on me because they think I am killing the children - really, I have even tried to use that as a threat to get the kids to calm down. Of course, after trying to wrestle the kids into position where I can scoop up some water in the cup and pour it over their head to try to get the shampoo out of their hair, I have lost of all of my patience. I don't want to hear them scream like I am hurting them, I want them to sit still and get over it. I am yelling, soaked, and really irritated over the giant fight over such a small thing. It is just some WATER. They have made the whole experience worse by putting up a fight, so I lose all of my compassion and just start dumping over their heads as quickly as possible.
After the bath is over, their noses are running and they can't catch their breath because they were fussing so much, and they are angry at ME - they will hold it against me the rest of the night. I am exhausted and this is after just wrestling one - still two more to go.
This is not just a small child thing - the two year old gets over it much faster than his brothers. Emmett is the worst. Ethan now showers and washes his own hair, but lies to me and tells me he washed his hair when he didn't - I smell it to make sure. So here is what I really don't get - I have been washing their hair and faces for YEARS, literally, and they don't get used to it, but the moment we go to the swimming pool, they are swimming UNDER WATER.
See it isn't about getting their faces wet at all - I think it is about making me crazy.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Kindergarten :)
Like many parents, my kids started school this week. Ethan started fourth grade and Emmett started Kindergarten. Having a child start "real" school can be very emotional even if it isn't the first child to go. Perhaps it is because it is a sign to parents that their child is growing up, or maybe it is sadness the child will be away from you more, but sometimes it is pure happiness that finally you can stop paying so much for childcare - that is if you work like my husband and I do. With Emmett starting school on Tuesday it wasn't any of these emotions I felt.
It was FEAR! Not fear that he would be kidnapped, hurt, or dislike kindergarten. It is fear that he would get kicked out. I am sure some of you are saying oh yeah Kristina, right, but I swear if you had an Emmett you would understand.
Emmett did two years of morning preschool before he started kindergarten. He was in a small class of about 15 kids and the teacher had about 22 years experience. You would think it would be an ideal situation, but Emmett really struggled the first year - being sent home for kicking, hitting, biting, and even peeing all over the bathroom. Even though the second year was better, we still had troubles. He punched a boy in the face and bloodied his lip and threatened to slit his wrists when he got a timeout. You may be wondering, like we do, where he gets these ideas and behavior, but I must assure you that we monitor and limit his TV and video games to make sure they are age appropriate. I don't let him play with toys of violence, so the only thing we can figure is that he learned it at SCHOOL. We've had Emmett evaluated and are sure he has ADD - and some symptoms of that are his impulse control (you make him mad and he REACTS) and inability to control himself well, but we are committed not to treat him with medication at this point in time.
So, now you can see why kindergarten made me nervous! The first day of school was also my first day of class, so I couldn't be there to see him off. My husband took him to this new school and dropped off Ethan at his class and walked over to Emmett's class to get him settled. Emmett went in right away and put his backpack in his cubby, grabbed his name tag, and went over to say hello to his teacher. When it was time for Kevin to leave, Emmett simply waved goodbye and went and sat up front next to the teacher. He seemed fine, and when he was picked up, all went well for day one.
I told myself it is because he hasn't warmed up yet - he doesn't know the teacher well enough to start misbehaving, and I thought for sure trouble would come on day two. The drop off went fine, and when I picked him up from class he was in a great mood (unusual when he is tired from being busy). I asked him how school was, and he told me, "kindergarten is stupid. They make you raise your had to do anything, even talk and they won't even let you to to the bathroom without raising your hand. geez." I explained that was how big boy school went and then he complained that they give you the "tiniest snack that couldn't even fill up a baby." So far kindergarten had not impressed him.
On day three, he was very excited - he had made a new friend named Robby and wanted to know if Robby could come over and play that night. Robby was all he could talk about. Maybe Kindergarten wasn't so bad - he hadn't gotten in trouble yet, but an even more amazing thing happened. Emmett, who never wants to do ANYTHING you ask without throwing a fit, came right home and hung up his backpack and put his shoes away on the shelf. Then he VOLUNTEERED to take his clean clothes upstairs and even asked me if there was anything else he could do to help.
I was in shock. The school had clearly replaced my child with an alien pod creature that was kind and helpful! Or maybe kindergarten is exactly what a smart and spirited five year old needs! Only time will tell.
It was FEAR! Not fear that he would be kidnapped, hurt, or dislike kindergarten. It is fear that he would get kicked out. I am sure some of you are saying oh yeah Kristina, right, but I swear if you had an Emmett you would understand.
Emmett did two years of morning preschool before he started kindergarten. He was in a small class of about 15 kids and the teacher had about 22 years experience. You would think it would be an ideal situation, but Emmett really struggled the first year - being sent home for kicking, hitting, biting, and even peeing all over the bathroom. Even though the second year was better, we still had troubles. He punched a boy in the face and bloodied his lip and threatened to slit his wrists when he got a timeout. You may be wondering, like we do, where he gets these ideas and behavior, but I must assure you that we monitor and limit his TV and video games to make sure they are age appropriate. I don't let him play with toys of violence, so the only thing we can figure is that he learned it at SCHOOL. We've had Emmett evaluated and are sure he has ADD - and some symptoms of that are his impulse control (you make him mad and he REACTS) and inability to control himself well, but we are committed not to treat him with medication at this point in time.
So, now you can see why kindergarten made me nervous! The first day of school was also my first day of class, so I couldn't be there to see him off. My husband took him to this new school and dropped off Ethan at his class and walked over to Emmett's class to get him settled. Emmett went in right away and put his backpack in his cubby, grabbed his name tag, and went over to say hello to his teacher. When it was time for Kevin to leave, Emmett simply waved goodbye and went and sat up front next to the teacher. He seemed fine, and when he was picked up, all went well for day one.
I told myself it is because he hasn't warmed up yet - he doesn't know the teacher well enough to start misbehaving, and I thought for sure trouble would come on day two. The drop off went fine, and when I picked him up from class he was in a great mood (unusual when he is tired from being busy). I asked him how school was, and he told me, "kindergarten is stupid. They make you raise your had to do anything, even talk and they won't even let you to to the bathroom without raising your hand. geez." I explained that was how big boy school went and then he complained that they give you the "tiniest snack that couldn't even fill up a baby." So far kindergarten had not impressed him.
On day three, he was very excited - he had made a new friend named Robby and wanted to know if Robby could come over and play that night. Robby was all he could talk about. Maybe Kindergarten wasn't so bad - he hadn't gotten in trouble yet, but an even more amazing thing happened. Emmett, who never wants to do ANYTHING you ask without throwing a fit, came right home and hung up his backpack and put his shoes away on the shelf. Then he VOLUNTEERED to take his clean clothes upstairs and even asked me if there was anything else he could do to help.
I was in shock. The school had clearly replaced my child with an alien pod creature that was kind and helpful! Or maybe kindergarten is exactly what a smart and spirited five year old needs! Only time will tell.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Vacation, no not for the kids!
School starts on Tuesday. The boys will be starting at a new school - Ethan in fourth grade and his first year in the G.A.T.E. (gifted and talented education) program and Emmett in kindergarten. My Fall semester also starts on Tuesday, so Kevin and I have decided to take a mini-vacation without the kids. My grandmother takes her old restored hot-rod up to Hot August Nights in Reno, so we decided to join her and some other family members and head up there for a few days, just Thursday through Saturday.
We are NOT bringing our kids. My family (ie my sister, parents, and grandma) tried to pressure us into bringing the kids up there. They swore it would be fun for the kids and even that they would help care for them. Reno isn't exactly the most kid friendly place when you are staying at a casino. Yes, Circus Circus attempts to be kid friendly but the midway there gets old (and expensive really quickly). I did seriously consider bringing the three kids - I thought about it and even agreed to it for about a week, mostly because I had lost my senses.
I realized that I really wanted to do some adult things while in Reno, which mainly means drinking too much, gambling some, and cruising in the old car while acting like a teenager. All of this was not really appropriate with three kids in tow. Yes, I think the kids would find the old cars and some of the activities fun during the day, but then what was I supposed to do with them while I enjoyed the nightlife? My cousin suggested her teenage daughter who is 15 could watch them in the hotel room, and my sister said she would stay in one night (or we could alternate every few hours) with the kids, but all of that just sounds like a logistic nightmare.
Plus, keeping the kids penned up in the tiny hotel room (not child proofed) without their many distractions we have at home just sounded like torture for all of us. So, we are NOT taking the kids.
The only drawback of this is guilt. I feel bad leaving them home to go have fun, and I have realized that this is a problem for parents of my generation. We feel guilt if we are away from the kids for any length of time. Don't get me wrong I leave my kids often, for date nights, and quick weekends away, but I do feel badly each time (even if it is only for a few minutes). I actually met another parent recently who has NOT EVER left her kids, who are nine and five, except to go to work. I thought this was insane! Certainly I may feel bad about leaving them to go do fun things, but I MAKE myself take time away from them and find I enjoy it.
It is a generational thing I am sure. My parents NEVER felt bad for leaving the kids at home while they went on vacation, and I don't mean a quick weekend away. I am talking two weeks in Hawaii while we were at grandmas (maybe I am a little bitter since I still have never been to Hawaii).
So I have resigned myself and talked myself into how much better it would be for us to have three days away from the kids, so now I just had to find childcare. I am lucky enough to have two cousins, who are now over the age of 18 and have been babysitting for us since they were 16, who are willing to babysit and stay overnight when we need them to. I called Kristin, who is 21, and asked her to stay at the house with the kids for the days we would be gone - she was happy to do so (both because she loves our kids and could use the money).
Now I had just had to break the news to the children. The whole family was going to be up in Reno, but they would be staying home with Kristin for a few day. Ellis wouldn't understand, but Emmett and Ethan were going to be disappointed (perhaps this is the real problem with today's parents - we don't ever want to disappoint or upset our kids). I mention to Kevin in front of the kids that we need to do some laundry for Reno, and Ethan says okay I will bring mine down, and I casually say, oh you guys aren't going - just me and dad. So he asked where they were going, and I say Kristin is going to come stay with you. He gets so excited and says. "WOO HOO! I love Kristin she lets us stay up as late as we want, and she said the next time she stayed over night she would let us party all night long!" Emmett comes running into the room and says, "Kristin is coming? She lets us eat whatever we want and play video games as long as we want!" Then they continue to badger me about how long it will be before she comes over and we leave.
I guess the kids would prefer not to go on vacation. Perhaps getting a young, cool, and fun person to come play with then is way more fun then going on vacation with boring old mom and dad.
I should feel relieved that they didn't care we were leaving them, so why is it that I am a little disappointed that they weren't disappointed at all?
We are NOT bringing our kids. My family (ie my sister, parents, and grandma) tried to pressure us into bringing the kids up there. They swore it would be fun for the kids and even that they would help care for them. Reno isn't exactly the most kid friendly place when you are staying at a casino. Yes, Circus Circus attempts to be kid friendly but the midway there gets old (and expensive really quickly). I did seriously consider bringing the three kids - I thought about it and even agreed to it for about a week, mostly because I had lost my senses.
I realized that I really wanted to do some adult things while in Reno, which mainly means drinking too much, gambling some, and cruising in the old car while acting like a teenager. All of this was not really appropriate with three kids in tow. Yes, I think the kids would find the old cars and some of the activities fun during the day, but then what was I supposed to do with them while I enjoyed the nightlife? My cousin suggested her teenage daughter who is 15 could watch them in the hotel room, and my sister said she would stay in one night (or we could alternate every few hours) with the kids, but all of that just sounds like a logistic nightmare.
Plus, keeping the kids penned up in the tiny hotel room (not child proofed) without their many distractions we have at home just sounded like torture for all of us. So, we are NOT taking the kids.
The only drawback of this is guilt. I feel bad leaving them home to go have fun, and I have realized that this is a problem for parents of my generation. We feel guilt if we are away from the kids for any length of time. Don't get me wrong I leave my kids often, for date nights, and quick weekends away, but I do feel badly each time (even if it is only for a few minutes). I actually met another parent recently who has NOT EVER left her kids, who are nine and five, except to go to work. I thought this was insane! Certainly I may feel bad about leaving them to go do fun things, but I MAKE myself take time away from them and find I enjoy it.
It is a generational thing I am sure. My parents NEVER felt bad for leaving the kids at home while they went on vacation, and I don't mean a quick weekend away. I am talking two weeks in Hawaii while we were at grandmas (maybe I am a little bitter since I still have never been to Hawaii).
So I have resigned myself and talked myself into how much better it would be for us to have three days away from the kids, so now I just had to find childcare. I am lucky enough to have two cousins, who are now over the age of 18 and have been babysitting for us since they were 16, who are willing to babysit and stay overnight when we need them to. I called Kristin, who is 21, and asked her to stay at the house with the kids for the days we would be gone - she was happy to do so (both because she loves our kids and could use the money).
Now I had just had to break the news to the children. The whole family was going to be up in Reno, but they would be staying home with Kristin for a few day. Ellis wouldn't understand, but Emmett and Ethan were going to be disappointed (perhaps this is the real problem with today's parents - we don't ever want to disappoint or upset our kids). I mention to Kevin in front of the kids that we need to do some laundry for Reno, and Ethan says okay I will bring mine down, and I casually say, oh you guys aren't going - just me and dad. So he asked where they were going, and I say Kristin is going to come stay with you. He gets so excited and says. "WOO HOO! I love Kristin she lets us stay up as late as we want, and she said the next time she stayed over night she would let us party all night long!" Emmett comes running into the room and says, "Kristin is coming? She lets us eat whatever we want and play video games as long as we want!" Then they continue to badger me about how long it will be before she comes over and we leave.
I guess the kids would prefer not to go on vacation. Perhaps getting a young, cool, and fun person to come play with then is way more fun then going on vacation with boring old mom and dad.
I should feel relieved that they didn't care we were leaving them, so why is it that I am a little disappointed that they weren't disappointed at all?
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Poop...
One of the ways being a parent changes you is that you are no longer disgusted by the most disgusting things. Only a parent can wipe a kids runny nose with their bare fingers, or wipe up puke, or poop without a second thought. This does take some getting used to. With my first son, I would gag when changing some stinky diapers, but by the time the second baby came along, nothing could phase me.
Children are disgusting little humans. They don't think twice about doing the most disgusting things: putting maple syrup in the grape juice and DRINKING it, eating the skin off their feet or their finger nails or their boogers, smelling their dirty socks for fun, pooping in the bathtub - I could keep going but I think you get my point. Perhaps boys are worse than girls in the gross-out department, and if that is the case, I am in a world of trouble. Kids just seems to be gross and parents seem to get immune to how disgusting their progeny is.
After three boys, I consider myself a war veteran of disgusting things. I thought nothing could phase me until I met my match yesterday. I put Ellis down for his daily nap -one nap a day for about 3 hours - at 12:15. My husband came home about 12:45 and heard him up there still moving around and talking and asked if he should get him up. I said no because he hadn't slept yet, so we left him alone. At 4:30 I went up stairs to get him up, so we could leave to go to Ethan's guitar lessons. When I walked into his room, I was shocked and disgusted. Ellis was still sound asleep in his bed, but he was naked from the bottom down. He had removed his shorts and his diaper, dumped the poop from the diaper onto his bed and then curled up at the other end of his crib. He had peed during his nap and had poop EVERYWHERE. He had chunks of it on his arm, and hit shirt had clumps, it was in his long curly hair, even his blankie was sopping wet, and I had exactly 15 minutes to get him cleaned up and in the car to get to the lesson on time. Of course, my husband had gone back to work, so I was on my own.
I ran to the bathroom started the tub, gathered the soap, washcloth, and towel. Went back and used the diaper to clean up (through the gagging and cursing under my breath) as much of the poop as I could , and woke up Ellis and undressed him the rest of the way in the crib. I left the crib mess to be cleaned up when I got home later in the evening. I then threw his disgusting blankie off the balcony so I could put it in the washing machine before we left the house (because Ellis won't go to bed without it and it had to be clean ASAP), and carried the toddler at arm's-length to the bath. It took me 10 minutes of soaping and scrubbing to get all of the caked on poop off of this child - it had dried on since he had clearly been sleeping in it for the three hour nap. The bathtub remnants looked like a battlefield - of a battle I barely won. Of course, earlier in the day I had taken his laundry downstairs and washed it while he was napping, so I had no clean clothes upstairs for him. I carried him downstairs wrapped in a towel, threw a diaper and some clothes on him, and yelled at the other kids to get in the car RIGHT NOW!
Okay, so we made it to the guitar lessons on time (exactly), and I survived the poop explosion. I have no idea how the crafty one year old undressed himself (and obviously that is what he was upstairs having a good time doing when my husband came home), but I have realized no matter how many kids I have and how disgusting they are, I can still be surprised and freaked out.
Children are disgusting little humans. They don't think twice about doing the most disgusting things: putting maple syrup in the grape juice and DRINKING it, eating the skin off their feet or their finger nails or their boogers, smelling their dirty socks for fun, pooping in the bathtub - I could keep going but I think you get my point. Perhaps boys are worse than girls in the gross-out department, and if that is the case, I am in a world of trouble. Kids just seems to be gross and parents seem to get immune to how disgusting their progeny is.
After three boys, I consider myself a war veteran of disgusting things. I thought nothing could phase me until I met my match yesterday. I put Ellis down for his daily nap -one nap a day for about 3 hours - at 12:15. My husband came home about 12:45 and heard him up there still moving around and talking and asked if he should get him up. I said no because he hadn't slept yet, so we left him alone. At 4:30 I went up stairs to get him up, so we could leave to go to Ethan's guitar lessons. When I walked into his room, I was shocked and disgusted. Ellis was still sound asleep in his bed, but he was naked from the bottom down. He had removed his shorts and his diaper, dumped the poop from the diaper onto his bed and then curled up at the other end of his crib. He had peed during his nap and had poop EVERYWHERE. He had chunks of it on his arm, and hit shirt had clumps, it was in his long curly hair, even his blankie was sopping wet, and I had exactly 15 minutes to get him cleaned up and in the car to get to the lesson on time. Of course, my husband had gone back to work, so I was on my own.
I ran to the bathroom started the tub, gathered the soap, washcloth, and towel. Went back and used the diaper to clean up (through the gagging and cursing under my breath) as much of the poop as I could , and woke up Ellis and undressed him the rest of the way in the crib. I left the crib mess to be cleaned up when I got home later in the evening. I then threw his disgusting blankie off the balcony so I could put it in the washing machine before we left the house (because Ellis won't go to bed without it and it had to be clean ASAP), and carried the toddler at arm's-length to the bath. It took me 10 minutes of soaping and scrubbing to get all of the caked on poop off of this child - it had dried on since he had clearly been sleeping in it for the three hour nap. The bathtub remnants looked like a battlefield - of a battle I barely won. Of course, earlier in the day I had taken his laundry downstairs and washed it while he was napping, so I had no clean clothes upstairs for him. I carried him downstairs wrapped in a towel, threw a diaper and some clothes on him, and yelled at the other kids to get in the car RIGHT NOW!
Okay, so we made it to the guitar lessons on time (exactly), and I survived the poop explosion. I have no idea how the crafty one year old undressed himself (and obviously that is what he was upstairs having a good time doing when my husband came home), but I have realized no matter how many kids I have and how disgusting they are, I can still be surprised and freaked out.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Hitting and screaming...
Ethan and Emmett fight constantly. It is annoying. Yes, I know all kids fight. In fact, every time I bring up this issue, some well-intentioned person tells me to just ignore it or to let them fight it out. The problem with this concept is that eventually one (or usually both) of them get hurt, then they come screaming and crying to me like a bone is sticking out or the world has ended. Of course, they only have one of those kind of fights when I am on the phone with someone important.
So the question is how to minimize the all out knock down, drag out fights? Perhaps just let them really injure themselves and bleed to death? Okay, so sometimes I daydream that they are in the backyard fighting it out and Ethan is screaming like someone is hacking him to death with a machete and the neighbors call the police. This has not happened YET but I swear that most of my parenting is reminding the kids why they can't do things (and it has little to do with them growing up to be well-rounded adults). For example, they can't: beat each other and scream about it (the police will come), why they can't swear in public (people will think I am a bad mom), why they can't go naked out front (again, the police will come), why they can't eat nothing but junk food (they will get fat and the doctors will blame me). Do you see the direction I am going in?
So back to the original question on how to control or minimize some of these behaviors (don't worry more blogs to come on the other problems I have parenting). Recently a child psychologist (another story - in time) told me to focus on POSITIVE reinforcement instead of PUNISHMENT. I thought I was doing that with reward charts (thanks Supernanny) and sticker charts, but apparently those rewards aren't immediate or tangible enough, so now we have behavior chips.
Really poker chips renamed, we are supposed to carry them around and focus on good behavior by presenting them with a chip that can then be exchanged for a reward. We went and got these cool clear acrylic containers and let the kids decorate them; we displayed them in a prominent spot so the kids could see the rewards adding up. We even set up some prize baskets and life was good. Sounds good right? Like something out of Amazing Parenting 101 - except I never seem to have a chip when I need it, hate carrying them around and having them randomly all over my house. Which means that we use them intermittently so they aren't very effective.
We could go back to using these things on a regular basis (which seem to shape the kids behavior well), but NO I decided to come up with a hybrid of this plan this morning - more than likely to avoid working on my Fall syllabi - now the new plan is a checklist of sorts. Each day is broken down into 5- two hour periods and I track five of their problem behaviors: hitting, screaming, not listening to me, making messes, and eating in places other than the dining room. I simply put an X in the box if they did one of those things and they don't get a chip for that two hour window. If they were good, they get a chip. This way at the end of the day I just tally it all up and pay them for their behavior (don't worry it takes 10 chips to equal a behavior buck, and most prizes are five behavior bucks and up).
It seems to be working so far, but Ethan is too smart for me. He came to my at 12:50 with 10 minutes left on the two hour window and told me that since he had already hit Emmett, he had lost his behavior chip for that time period. Therefore, he could now hit Emmett AS MUCH AS HE WANTED UNTIL 1:00! I was stunned for a minute and didn't know how to react - he had me on that one. Then, I told him if you hit your brother there is still PUNISHMENT - hahahaha. Mom got the last laugh, and I don't think the child psychologist won this round.
So the question is how to minimize the all out knock down, drag out fights? Perhaps just let them really injure themselves and bleed to death? Okay, so sometimes I daydream that they are in the backyard fighting it out and Ethan is screaming like someone is hacking him to death with a machete and the neighbors call the police. This has not happened YET but I swear that most of my parenting is reminding the kids why they can't do things (and it has little to do with them growing up to be well-rounded adults). For example, they can't: beat each other and scream about it (the police will come), why they can't swear in public (people will think I am a bad mom), why they can't go naked out front (again, the police will come), why they can't eat nothing but junk food (they will get fat and the doctors will blame me). Do you see the direction I am going in?
So back to the original question on how to control or minimize some of these behaviors (don't worry more blogs to come on the other problems I have parenting). Recently a child psychologist (another story - in time) told me to focus on POSITIVE reinforcement instead of PUNISHMENT. I thought I was doing that with reward charts (thanks Supernanny) and sticker charts, but apparently those rewards aren't immediate or tangible enough, so now we have behavior chips.
Really poker chips renamed, we are supposed to carry them around and focus on good behavior by presenting them with a chip that can then be exchanged for a reward. We went and got these cool clear acrylic containers and let the kids decorate them; we displayed them in a prominent spot so the kids could see the rewards adding up. We even set up some prize baskets and life was good. Sounds good right? Like something out of Amazing Parenting 101 - except I never seem to have a chip when I need it, hate carrying them around and having them randomly all over my house. Which means that we use them intermittently so they aren't very effective.
We could go back to using these things on a regular basis (which seem to shape the kids behavior well), but NO I decided to come up with a hybrid of this plan this morning - more than likely to avoid working on my Fall syllabi - now the new plan is a checklist of sorts. Each day is broken down into 5- two hour periods and I track five of their problem behaviors: hitting, screaming, not listening to me, making messes, and eating in places other than the dining room. I simply put an X in the box if they did one of those things and they don't get a chip for that two hour window. If they were good, they get a chip. This way at the end of the day I just tally it all up and pay them for their behavior (don't worry it takes 10 chips to equal a behavior buck, and most prizes are five behavior bucks and up).
It seems to be working so far, but Ethan is too smart for me. He came to my at 12:50 with 10 minutes left on the two hour window and told me that since he had already hit Emmett, he had lost his behavior chip for that time period. Therefore, he could now hit Emmett AS MUCH AS HE WANTED UNTIL 1:00! I was stunned for a minute and didn't know how to react - he had me on that one. Then, I told him if you hit your brother there is still PUNISHMENT - hahahaha. Mom got the last laugh, and I don't think the child psychologist won this round.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Well lets get this started...
So this is my first blog. I have always been a writer. My computer is full of articles, stories, poetry, and random ideas I have written my whole life. I keep journals and write weekly in various ways. I teach and tell my students stories about my life to illustrate the ideas I am teaching, and I seem to always be telling friends and family wacky stories about my life, my kids, and my work. So, the inspiration to do this came from a friend. She asked if I was writing down all the crazy stories and crazy things my kids do - of course I am in my private journal, but she suggested I share my stories since everyone always seems to get a good laugh from them.
So here I am. My plan is to share the stories of my crazy kids and my crazy life. I am busy (as are most people today) but my plan is to share a story at least once a week. I can't guarantee they will always be funny, interesting, or crazy, but at least I will give it a try!
I do realize that all parents think their kids are the cutest, funniest, or most clever little humans alive -I will often fall into this category when describing the exploits of my kids, and I am not going to apologize. Okay, I am apologizing right now: first and last time. I am going to assume if you (whoever you mystery readers might be) continue to read this that you must find he stories of my children entertaining.
So a little background about the family:
My name is Kristina. I met my husband, Kevin, as a teenager - on my 16th birthday to be exact. We have been together since - 17 years - and we have been married 12 years.
We have three sons:
Ethan who is 9 and is my artistic rule follower. He is very smart, is enrolled in the GATE program in 4th grade and loves math and science. He plays the guitar, does musical theater, and dance.
Emmett, who is 5, is my spirited child. He is fun and full of energy. He is also my troublemaker - if there is trouble in the house, follow the trail and you will find Emmett. He is also the sweetest and most loving boy when he isn't being crazy. He starts kindergarten next week.
Ellis, who is 1 (almost 2), is a fun and entertaining toddler. He loves to get into things and likes to have his way (what 2 year old doesn't?) - he loves to be read to and play with his cars, oh and follow his brothers around to see if he can cause some trouble with Emmett.
I teach English as an adjunct professor at four different local community colleges. Kevin owns his own pool cleaning and repair business, so both of our jobs allow us some flexibility in raising our sons.
Welcome to our story...
So here I am. My plan is to share the stories of my crazy kids and my crazy life. I am busy (as are most people today) but my plan is to share a story at least once a week. I can't guarantee they will always be funny, interesting, or crazy, but at least I will give it a try!
I do realize that all parents think their kids are the cutest, funniest, or most clever little humans alive -I will often fall into this category when describing the exploits of my kids, and I am not going to apologize. Okay, I am apologizing right now: first and last time. I am going to assume if you (whoever you mystery readers might be) continue to read this that you must find he stories of my children entertaining.
So a little background about the family:
My name is Kristina. I met my husband, Kevin, as a teenager - on my 16th birthday to be exact. We have been together since - 17 years - and we have been married 12 years.
We have three sons:
Ethan who is 9 and is my artistic rule follower. He is very smart, is enrolled in the GATE program in 4th grade and loves math and science. He plays the guitar, does musical theater, and dance.
Emmett, who is 5, is my spirited child. He is fun and full of energy. He is also my troublemaker - if there is trouble in the house, follow the trail and you will find Emmett. He is also the sweetest and most loving boy when he isn't being crazy. He starts kindergarten next week.
Ellis, who is 1 (almost 2), is a fun and entertaining toddler. He loves to get into things and likes to have his way (what 2 year old doesn't?) - he loves to be read to and play with his cars, oh and follow his brothers around to see if he can cause some trouble with Emmett.
I teach English as an adjunct professor at four different local community colleges. Kevin owns his own pool cleaning and repair business, so both of our jobs allow us some flexibility in raising our sons.
Welcome to our story...
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