life with WE

Yeah, that's not gonna happen...

We're in my room, and he's trying on the dress clothes I just purchased for him for an upcoming wedding.  I'm watching as my seven year old puts on dress pants, a shirt, tie, belt, dress socks, and dress shoes.  He looks fabulous of course.

Me: Oh my goodness Warren.  You're making me want to cry a little bit.

W: Why?  Because I'm so grown up?

Me: Yes!  You look so old and I still think you're my baby and I don't want you to grow up.

W: Ha!  That's not gonna happen.  Let's go show dad.

I'll post pictures after the wedding this weekend.  I mean you don't want the wrinkled shirt with the tags on it when you could have handsome pressed GQ boy, do you?

PS - He was so excited about having these items.  "I've always wanted these things.  And these dress socks, I've been wanting them for a long time!"  He slept in them people! 

Is honesty the best policy? And why does that sound like a Carrie Bradshaw question?

Why is it so hard to be completely honest?  And if someone is completely honest, are they sort of shunned?

I mean, let's face it.  Everything isn't rainbows and unicorns and sunshine - see blog header.  When people ask me how the kids are, I'm bluntly honest.  "I'm moments away from losing my shit with that girl."  "He's been something else lately, testing his limits and winning."  "At the moment, things are good, we finally had a great day.  Which can only mean trouble tomorrow..."

I'm not a pessimist or an optimist.  I like to think of myself as an actualist.  Is that a word?  Hold on, I'm going to look it up.  (Also, I should totally get my kids a dictionary so they can learn to look stuff up old school style before they do it on the web.)  I found actualism which is defined as the doctrine that all reality is animate or in motion.  I can't even understand what that means and I've had two travel mugs full of coffee.  But I digress. 

So I've said these things about my kids and if you didn't really know me, I can see how you might think I'm a bit of a psycho.  But still, doesn't that mean you should get to know me so that you know I'm okay?  OH MY GOD I cannot make any fooking sense today.  My main question is, where is the harm in being honest if you aren't being honest just to be mean to someone?

Why can't a person say "no, I don't really feel like doing that.  But thanks," without sounding like a complete jerk?

Why can't a pregnant person say, "I feel like ass today" without sounding ungrateful for the life she is carrying?

Why can't a person say that their kids are making them crazy without adding in "but I wouldn't trade them for the world?"  Because we know that, don't we?  Does it have to be stated?

Why can't a stay at home mom be honest and say, "this is the hardest job I've ever had."  Because we'll judge her for thinking being a mom is hard? 

Why can't the working mom say, "I love my work" if she does?  Becuase you are supposed to despise every moment you spend away from your kids?

Why can't the breadwinner in the family say, "somedays I hate working" without the partner panicking about the future?

Why can't a person say to a friend, "listen I appreciate our friendship.  But I don't want your religion pushed on me?"  We should be able to say that, shouldn't we?

Why can't an anxiety-ridden person say, "oh I'm having a rough day" without their friends worrying what's next?  Couldn't it just be a bad day?

I know we have to filter what we say.  But isn't honesty the best policy?  Why do we often judge honesty when we hear it?  Why do we panic?

And why am I rambling about nonsense today?  Who knows.  But that's what today is for me.  Rambling nonsense.  Anything you'd like to share?

To post or not to post? It's just drivel today!

I've attempted about 4 posts this morning and each of them sounds more like a facebook status or a twitter update rather than a post.  So I'm just going to make a post of what I would put on facebook today but I'm too lazy and a little facebook'd out.  (That's totally a word, I just decided.)

• When you are a year older, it takes an entire day to kick a hangover.
• Tonight I get to eat chicken and dumplings which is quite possibly my favorite meal of all time.
• We need groceries.
• I need to mow the lawn.
• I need some form of caffeine stat.
• My daughter was a crab this morning.  She's anti-Monday.
• It's fall!  Yeah! 
• My tummy hurts still.

Boooooooring.  I'm boring today.  Perhaps something fun will happen to me and I can update later?

It's picture day. Say cheeeeeese!

Today is school picture day.

Oh the memories.  My mom would put sponge rollers in my hair the night before, and I'd wake up with wicked curly hair.  I'd decide I hated it, even though just 12 hours before I'd begged her in desperation to put the curlers in my hair because stick straight hair is sooo blah.  Not to worry though, it'd be straight again in no time!

We didn't have to wear our uniforms on picture day, which was awesome and rare.  You almost wouldn't recognize your fellow classmates outside of their blue/gray plaid and white oxford shirts.  Standing in line waiting my turn I'd think about how my parents hadn't let me order enough pictures.  Clearly, I needed a wallet for every person I'd ever met.  I'd think about what I would write on the back of the picture.  Dear Cindy, you're the best friend ever!  Love, Jenny.  Or would I just write my name and the year?  Should I add in some sort of heart or smiley face?

Nearing the front of the line, the photographer's assistant would head my direction brandishing that black Goody comb.  I'd stop her mid walk.  "No thanks."  Obviously my gorgeous locks could not be improved upon with Goody comb.  I mean come on - this was sponge rollers and hairspray lady!  Back off.

Sitting down on the stool, I'd think again how my parents had slighted me.  (Self absorbed much?)  Not only would I not have enough photos for all of my dear dear friends, I would not have the reflections photo.  You know the one.  From back in the day?  The one that has you in the usual picture spot, but then your profile is floating eerily up behind you?  I so wanted that.  And my mom was adamant that she would not pay for that.

The photographer would begin counting.  Say cheese on three!  One, two... and on three, I'd smile too hard.  Forcing a freakish joker like smile across my face while the veins in my neck bulged out.  Every freaking year it was the same.

I guarantee you that Warren will have that very same expression.  And although Elaine did not sleep in sponge curlers, she had me curl her hair this morning.  And just like her mother and her aunts, her hair will be stick straight by the time the photo is taken.  I'm hoping that no one gets her with the black goody comb beforehand!

The boy loves his dad

Mike's out of town for work.  And it's just for a few days, but try explaining that to Warren who feels as if Mike has left us for a three year work stint in Antarctica or something.  Oy.

Although it has been written on the chalkboard, I guess W just chose to ignore it.  Or maybe 'dad gone' to him meant my dad or Mike's dad.  I'm not sure.  But when Mike broke the news to him at 9 pm last night, all hell and the flood gates of tears broke loose.

When Mike left Warren's room, he was still sobbing.  I went in to talk to him and he proceeded to go on and on about how unfair it is.  Seriously seven year old living in a nice house going to school well fed and surrounded by freaking legos?  Unfair?  But I opted for sympathy.  I told him I understood why he was sad but that it was time to be done with it, because it was only two days and two nights. 

"Two and a hallllllllllllllllllllffffffffffffffffffffffffffff," he wailed.  And wailed, my friends, is an understatement.

I promised to play catch with him.  I promised it would go quickly.  I said we could call him at night before bed, my God he's only in Chicago it's in the same freaking time zone.  I said he could sleep in my bed one night of the two, which is a HUGE sacrifice on my part because that kid grinds his teeth with a vengeance.  I'll probably wake up coated in teeth bits.  At least he stays on his half of the bed unlike his sister who's some sort of magnetic force field of heat.

He was still crying a bit when I left his room.  I assured him all would be fine as it always is.  And then I shushed him.  I kid you not, he stopped crying for one minute, sat straight up in his bed, shot me a death glare and said in an angry tone through gritted teeth, "do not shush me.  That DOES NOT stop my brain from thinking or stop me from being sad."

My mistake.  A thousand pardons oh angry and sad one.

"Sorry dude.  Go to bed," was my response.  He resumed crying softly and I left his room.

Seriously.  2 days.  Come on!

If you ignore it, will it go away?

You know, this being a parent thing is something else.  It's a constant guessing game.  You try to make the best decisions you can, and sometimes you realize rather quickly that you were completely off the mark.  Other times, you postpone making any type of decision because you can't figure out what to do.

What do you make a big deal out of?  Why do you try to gloss over?  The older my kids get, the more interesting the situations get.  And I tell you, 90% of them are unexpected.

For instance, yesterday I went to the bus stop in the afternoon with Elaine to get W off the bus.  The afternoon bus is full of kindergarten through fifth graders; sitting in assigned seats in grade order, with fifth graders being in the back.  And yet when they kids exited the bus, two of the second graders were whispering words to each other.  Elaine and her friend overheard them, turned to me and said, "they are saying sex and sexy.  Those are bad words, aren't they?"

Interesting.

I responded with "they aren't bad words, but they certainly are not appropriate for second graders."  Immediately I'm wondering what in the world they were talking about that led to these words.  And yeah, I'm not a prude, I know some of the words are on tv, and most likely they don't understand them, but still.  Then I begin the debate in my head of whether or not I share this information with their parents.  Do I tattle?  Do I care?  Is it that big of a deal?  Am I making it too big of a deal?  Is ignoring it better than making too big of a deal out of it?

So I mentioned it to their parents casually at the bus stop this morning, and they were thankful to know.  But then the three of us sat there stumped.  "What should we say?"  "Do we address it or ignore it?"  "Make a big deal or don't?"  It's good to know I'm in good company.  None of us really knows what to do.  We're all flying by the seat of our pants, figuring it out as we go.  The situations are unpredictable and ever changing.

There's the issue of the kid in the class with some sort of behavior disorder that calls the teacher and idiot and kicks the art teacher.  There's cheating in games on the playground.  Hateful words, whining, secret clubs, pushing, shoving, smarter kids, parents who let their kids do more etc.   Which do you address and how?  Which do you ignore?  What do you let them figure out without your help and which do you guide?

Dude.  This is the hardest job there is.  There is no way to prepare for it.  No way to know what moments are shaping their lives.  No way to know if what we said today will stick with them forever, or go in one ear and out the other.

Will they remember the countless Uno, Candyland and I Spy games?  Will they remember the hours and hours of catch we played outside with them?  Or will they only remember the day mom lost her mind and screamed at them because she'd had enough?  What about the days I said no to every request?  Will they remember that, or will they recall the day I set up a tent in the family room and we ate lunch in it?

It's exhausting this parenting gig.  Definitely worth it, but exhausting nonetheless.

The rain came in the tent

We went camping this Saturday night with our cub scout pack.  Our whole family went.

We climbed in our tent that evening, trying to get comfy on the ground.

It rained.

Our tent leaks.

It kept raining.

We were dry considering how rainy it was.

Mike packed up the entire tent and it's contents into the car while it was still a downpour.  Yea Mike!  The kids and I sat in the pavillion eating cereal and drying to dry off which was a lost battle.

We got home and every bone in my body hurt.  Was that due to sleeping on the ground or perhaps the forward and backward rolls I did in demonstration to the children?

Yea, I'm about to be 35 and I still don't have an ounce of sense!

This is the second time I've slept in that tent and the second time I've awaken to rain everywhere.  Perhaps I'm some sort of jinx?

One of the many reasons you need to know how to sew.

You might have to whip up two pairs of crazy socks for crazy sock day. 

Please reference exhibit A and B.

Exhibit A

and Exhibit B

 

And the two happy customers:

Where oh where has my little girl gone?

I've been wondering where my girl is.  You know, the sweet little Elaine who loves to love on people?  The one who can be kind and sweet and nice?  I've seen her before, I know she exists.

I miss her.  The Elaine that's here now is kind of shall we say difficult?  She's been acting up, testing her limits, making bad choices -whatever you want to call it.  Thankfully, none of this has happened at school, so as far as her kindergarten class knows, she's the original Elaine.  And that's great, except that I think keeping up the original Elaine at school means she has nothing left to give when she gets home.  So when she's home, she's exceptionally whiny.  She talks to her friends in this mean hateful tone.  She's overly dramatic about every little thing.  And every little thing can be oh, someone switching places in line in front of her for the bus.  Yeah, where she still keeps her spot as the second person in line, but the first and the third switched places AND OH MY GOD DID YOU JUST FEEL THE EARTH START TO SHAKE?  IT'S OVER FOLKS.  IT'S OVER.

I'm not handling any of this well.  I know it.  I'm trying, I'm really really trying.  I know she needs more positive reinforcement.  There are just few situations in which to reinforce good behavior.  I know she needs to be kept away from some of the kids for awhile.  But how can you do that on a street where all the kids play outside every day and that's the beauty of the street?  I know she needs discipline applied correctly and our way of working with Warren just doesn't work with her because she doesn't care.  She cares in the moment, but not later.

This age...oh this age.  I love her.  I love her with every fiber of my being.  I know this won't last forever.  It's a stage.  She's a good kid.  We are good parents.  She's five, it's to be expected. 

I love her.  But I don't like this stage.

I miss her.

The bad and then the good

Yesterday was a bad Elaine day.

Bad in the terms of whiny and oh yeah, destruction of property and lying to her mother.  Good times.  You see, she was coloring on paper on a little table on her friend's front porch.  Left unattended for maybe 15 minutes (bad parents) these two five year old darlings decided to color on themselves with marker.  Her friend's mom busted them and asked if she needed to take the markers away.  "No, we won't do it again.  We promise."  And they sort of held true to that promise.  They didn't draw on themselves anymore.  But her friend let another neighbor draw on her.  And then, four of them proceeded to draw on the CONCRETE PORCH.  And the markers and crayons they used - NOT WASHABLE.

When we realized all of this, I confronted Elaine who proceeded to lie to me not once, but twice.  WITHOUT BATTING AN EYE.  All of her tells - the dropped gaze, the squirrelly movements, the tears welling up - they were gone.  She lied to my face with such confidence I was shocked.  I said, "you have one more chance to tell me the truth.  Did you draw on the porch?"  And of course the answer was yes.

So we went to apologize and then clean the porch and then off to her room.  And I began once again questioning my fabulous parenting because really - lying to my face, destroying property and not really caring?  This is so NOT the child I intended to raise.

And then last night, I went to a thing at school for parents in charge of party planning for the classrooms.  Warren's teacher saw me, and immediately smiled.  "Your son is such a great kid.  He's a joy to have in class.  He's so kind and nice and tries so hard and is so sweet." 

It is so awesome to hear words like that about your kid.  So great that someone else who had no interaction with him until this year is as proud of him as you are.  I love that.  And I loved hearing that on such a bad day.  Because I have treated Elaine and Warren the same, so there's hope that Elaine will earn that kind of praise as well.  Right? 

Say right, or I'll have to start rocking in the corner and singing to myself again!