Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Fiercely Protective

My oldest child came home with a card he'd made me.  He drew a pattern of crisscrossed lines and a heart. He wrote, "The first pattern represents your fierce protectiveness.  The heart represents your love."

I couldn't have put it better myself. That is the essence of motherhood for a good mother. That fierce protectiveness and love for your child(ren) is beyond anything you've ever experienced. 

When you become a mother, your heart lives outside your body. Forever. And I AM fiercely protective. I don't apologize for it. I never will. 

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Drama King

My youngest child is a drama king. He trips and breaks a fingernail and moans for an hour.  Last Friday, he fell on the playground and skinned his knee. Oh merciful goodness!

He got into the truck Friday after school and said, "I could see my bones in my leg today."  

Of course, his dad and I were like, "WHAT?!?"

Then we find out he fell and skinned his knee, went to the nurse and got it cleaned up and bandaged. 

Now, a week later, he's still moaning about it. I admit, it looks rough. He landed on a rock when he fell. He asked last night why we hadn't taken him to the hospital yet. Sigh. 

Will we go to the hospital with a partially scabbed-over knee? Will we call to alert the media over our broken fingernail? Will I drink all the wine in the house before Monday? Stay tuned to the next episode of "Confessions of a Drama King" for the answers!

Wednesday, May 7, 2014


When I was around four or so, I remember going fishing with my dad. I
And by going fishing, I mean I put on a lifejacket (is that one word or two?), my old clothes (okay, the clothes went on before the lifejacket), climbed in a boat or stood on the side of a pond with my daddy, had Daddy bait the hook, and waited patiently to catch a fish (while asking no less than 287 million questions). When we got back home, I'd watch him clean them and engage in my favorite part of the process...

Want to guess what the favorite part was? Eating the fish? No, it was good, but there's something even better! Touching the cold, slimy fish eyes! 

For some unknown-four-year-old-bizarre reason, I LOVED touching fish eyes. 

You really should try it sometime. Of course, there's a difference in being 4 and doing that, and being (cough, cough) 30ish--shut up!-- and doing the same thing. If nothing else, people look at you a little more, um, critically. "Isn't that cute?" becomes "What kinda freaky shit is that?!"

Now, you may wonder why this story popped into my head and why I felt compelled to share. Because I love you? Okay, no, not because I love you...I mean, I DO love you, of course. (Even though most of you are relative strangers. Or would that be strange relatives?) No, the reason I'm sharing this story is because we're taking our boys fishing this weekend. For the first time. Oh, and did I mention that two of my three hate bugs? Yeah, so this should be...interesting. As in, "Holy shit! What the freak were we thinking?!"  I haven't been fishing, a while. My husband hasn't been fishing in...a long time (because we're counting the drunken, deep-sea fishing trip he went on in his 20s as actual fishing).  

But we're making memories here, folks. Making memories--fish eyes, bugs, and all!  Stay tuned for the follow-up post! Here's hoping there are no ouchies, booboos, bug bites or snake sightings!

Monday, May 5, 2014

I Will Never...

"I will NEVER make my kids... I will NEVER say ..." Yeah, right. I've eaten every one of those words and then some. 

My mom was one of those moms that insisted we behave like civilized people. Crazy, right? We had chores. We had to help clean house, do laundry, wash dishes, and take care of our dog. Mom woke us up early on Saturday mornings to clean house. None of that sleeping late stuff at our house. (Huh, must be where my kids get that "early to rise" crap. Certainly isn't from me!)

My boys know how to separate laundry, load the dishwasher (which WE didn't have growing up), fold laundry and wipe the table. But do they do it? Only separating laundry to be washed. 

Are you ready for my grand announcement?  This summer, these beautiful, darling children will have a list of chores. And they WILL do them. And the mouthing-off, fighting, disrespectful nonsense they've been throwing around all school year will end. 

For each disrespectful act, they will have to choose a consequence from the new consequence jar. Consequences can vary from losing a video game to cleaning the toilets. Why? Because I have had ENOUGH! 

You see, I seldom talked back to my parents. When I did, I remembered why it was a really, REALLY bad idea. BAD IDEA! Truly. 

My mom wasn't one of those "wait til your dad gets home" types. Oh no. She would punish us--usually a spanking, not a beating--and then when Dad got home, he'd punish us. Doesn't quite seem fair, does it?  But by damn, it worked!  

Spanking my kids doesn't do much other than make them more angry. I try to take away things. Sometimes the success rate is higher than others, but I keep going til I find something that works. 

On the flip side, if they behave appropriately, I reward the behavior. I'm not afraid to use bribery, uh, I mean, rewards. 

I'll keep you updated on this chore list, reward/punishment thing. Here's hoping for success! In the meantime, I need to call my mom and apologize. 

And remember, never say never!

Saturday, May 3, 2014

You Say Potato...

There's an old song that keeps playing in my head. It's before my time, but I remember hearing my grandparents sing it.  "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" is the song. Maybe it'll be stuck in your head now. (You can thank me later.)

I  was flipping through my social media accounts and saw a plethora of articles that boil down to differences. Difference of opinion, belief, whatever. I started thinking about a Twitter conversation I had with a follower about God, religion and beliefs in general. 

This person is an atheist, I'm a Christian. I'm a very open minded Christian who doesn't feel threatened by people with other views. What ensued was an intelligent conversation about what we each believe in and why, and what we agree and disagree on, and mutual respect for each of our views. (Po-TA-toe/po-tah-toe...) Neither of us felt threatened. Neither of us felt pressured to convert. 

I sincerely wish everyone could apply this principle to situations concerning religion, sexual orientation, race, and the millions of other points of contention in our world.   Is this a Pollyannistic wish? Maybe. Would it be nice? You betcha. 

Tolerance. Acceptance. Understanding. Coexistence. Love. 

Friday, May 2, 2014

Get Involved--A Rant

After a month of daily posts, I've been trying to regroup and refocus. I've started and rejected several posts as I've searched for a topic. Last night, a topic occurred to me as I, once again, had to manage my son's behavior in public. 

He has ADHD, coupled with Oppositional Defiant Disorder. He manages to keep things together most of the time, but when he gets "spun up" it's not fun. 

We were in a group of boys when my oppositional child decided to have a meltdown. I was leading a group of four very active little boys and working on a couple of activities. My son decided things weren't going the way he wanted, so he started pushing the limits.  I calmly told him what he needed to do. More defiance. I repeated my instructions. He threw scissors. I warned him that his dad would come pick him up if he didn't pull himself together. His behavior escalated. 

I called his dad to pick him up and take him home. The rest of the group settled down fairly quickly. I kept it together but inside, I played the scene over and over. What could I have done differently? Did I do something to set him off?

After I got home and got my other two sons ready for bed, I couldn't stop thinking about the night. I played it over in my head dozens of times. In fact, I didn't sleep more than an hour all night. 

As I fought to get my son under control, no less than six other adults watched. None of the other parents or grandparents took the initiative to work with the other boys as I dealt with this child. Not one person was concerned enough to help in any way.  I wouldn't have wanted them to deal with my out of control child. That wouldn't have been fair to ask of anyone. But they weren't even interested enough in their own children to help. 

What in the name of goodness is wrong with people?!? Instead of playing games on their phones or chatting with other parents, GET INVOLVED in what your children are doing! You can't have them and ignore them. 

I've been accused of being over-involved or over-protective, but by all that's good and holy, at least I'M THERE!!

Rant over for now.