Not Everything Is Better In Stereo

A Letter To My Prepubescent Child

Dear Child,

Yes, this letter is for you, the child who rolls your eyes and lets that "tone" creep into your voice; the one who tells me "no" when I tell you to do something, after I've asked you nicely before resorting to the "do it now" command. I'm going to impart some wisdom here. Pay attention, because I will NOT repeat myself. 

When you, my darling child, decide to behave like a little shit, you might want to remember a few things. 

First, I am your mother. I will be your mother for the rest of your life. You're ten/eleven years old now. You've got at least eight to ten more  years at home. That means you deal with me. Every. Single. Day. For. The. Next. Decade. Think about it. 

Second, although I'm more tolerant than my mother, I do have a breaking point. You have passed the point, my love. That is not wise. 

Third, you should understand that all of the electronics, toys, and other assorted crap you have, are privileges that can disappear faster than an unguarded birthday cake around yours truly. 

And finally, you will be a parent one day. And I sincerely hope I'm around then. If not, I will leave a detailed list of all of the bullshit you pulled for my grandchildren. Why? Because that's the way I roll, my sweet. And be warned, the apple does not fall too far from the tree. How do I know? Because you're just like...your dad! (You didn't think I'd say me, did you?!)

Love,

Mom

Walk The Walk

This post was inspired by an incident that happened a few weeks ago. A person I've known all my life posted a nasty little rant on social media about a young mother with bratty children she wasn't trying to control. This incident happened in a hospital waiting room. When several of us made comments that we wondered why she (the young mother) was in a hospital waiting room and perhaps offering help was a good idea, we were met with nasty comments and/or blocked from her account. This incident disappointed me, because it was so mean spirited. And the woman who posted it was someone I thought highly of. 

So, here is my perspective as the mom of a "brat", as she described these children she saw. The mom who has had to wrangle three active boys, alone much of the time, because we've always lived away from extended family. As I was thinking about all of this, an incident came to mind. Here it is:

My youngest boy has ALWAYS had meltdowns. Until he was diagnosed with ADHD, we did a lot of behavioral conditioning. Ignoring was the

hardest, but the most effective. I had all three with me in Walmart and my youngest started screaming. He wanted something and I said "No". He had screamed through most of the store and I was barely holding it together. My other two had their hands over their ears, begging me to give him what he wanted. I wouldn't give in. 

I received nasty looks and heard snide remarks as I made my way through the store. As I loaded the boys into the van, wrestling my youngest into his seatbelt, a woman approached me. She waited until I was done, put her hand on my arm and said, "Good job. You are a good mother and you did great!"

My eyes filled with tears as I thanked her. I don't know her and never saw her again, but she kept me going that day. Instead of being judgmental, she embodied the Christian spirit. Compassion. Love. Kindness. That's all it took to make one overwhelmed mother feel like going on instead of giving up. 

Thanks for reading and be blessed. 

My "Kryptonite"

I've spent the last few weeks...months...in a writing slump. I was not quite sure what was/is going on, but I think I have part of it figured out. 

The last few months have been crazy hectic. When I wasn't being pulled in fifty directions, I was too exhausted to move. Yes, I know I'm a parent and that's part of it. Yes, I know I'm lucky  that I'm a stay-at-home-mom (although, contrary to popular belief, that IS a full-time job). 

Here is my revelation. Are you ready? My inability to stop people-pleasing is my nemesis. Yep, it's the fly in the ointment. And then there's the guilt; I say "no" and that guilt gene kicks in. Let me tell you, that freaking guilt gene is relentless! It keeps hammering away until you're ready to agree to any and everything! 

If you're a parent, you know your children are fantastic, gifted even, at triggering that gene. And don't get me started on the spousal ability--sorry honey, intentional or not, it happens. 

Who has the ability to control this? The simple answer is, me. The more complex answer? Still me. I can continue to allow the busyness to take over or I can stop and breathe. It's a choice. 

I choose to breathe.

Just Breathe

My decision to be more kind to myself is in full force. I'm saying  "No!" quite often and feeling much better because of it.
Stress almost did me in last school year. I had completely overextended myself, and then, in typical "Southern girl" mentality, felt too guilty to back out. All of that resulted in resentment and anger sucking the joy out of everything; and in stress-related illnesses.
I've made a few--okay, a lot--of people angry by saying no. Those who know me well and understand, are okay with it. Most people are just shocked. The ones who are angry can get over it. Or not. (Do you know how hard that is to say for a people pleaser?!)
I'm no longer leading or assisting with after school activities; not allowing my children to join every club that comes along; no volunteering my time, nor being drafted. No is such a fabulous word! I only wish I'd used it more often in the past.
Of course, we're still involved in Scouts, choir, orchestra and church groups. But I'm mom this year; not den leader, teacher, organizer. It feels great!  My boys are my focus in the activities they're pursuing; and they love it.
I'm a mother, a wife, a writer; and the only way I can do those jobs is to take care of myself. A friend recently made a statement that stuck with me.
"These young families are so busy running from one activity to another.  Slow down and breathe. Enjoy being together, not rushing from one activity to another."
Just breathe.  I can do that.

Vacation

We took our boys on vacation for a week.  I was told by a friend that if you are exhausted when you get back, that's the sign of a great vacation! In that case, we had one HELL of a great vacation!  Let me start by saying, one of my twins has NEVER travelled well.  Never.  Not as an infant, a toddler, nor as an eight year old.  Five minutes into ANY trip, whether an hour away or ten minutes down the road, he is asking, "Can you find our house?  Are we still near home? How much longer will it be?"

Our destination should have taken about two hours to reach, give or take a half hour.  We went the weekend of July 4th.  I know, not the brightest decision.  We sat in traffic at every highway junction we crossed.  Bumper to freaking bumper, with idiots who drove over medians, cut into traffic and generally made things more chaotic.  All three boys were restless, but my little homebody was beyond over it.  "Daddy, what's wrong? Mommy, are we almost there? Daddy, if that man can drive in the grass, why can't we?" Oh, and did I mention that our minivan was packed to the top with various and sundry crap that we had to take?  Argh!

We made it to our destination and stopped at a pizza place who's known for a giant rodent mascot and games.  It was the first time we'd ever been there. I took extra headache medicine, because even though I have a large group of small children living with me, I'm not overly fond of places frequented by large groups of children hyped up on soda and parents who decide to let them run wild.  And yes, I know such places are made for children to run wild, but...

Anyway, I ended up having a blast at the restaurant and enjoyed playing games almost as much as my husband and kids did.  After a couple or three hours, we left and went to our hotel to check in.  Thank God, some brilliant soul decided to put us on the first floor.  We'd gotten two rooms because our boys are big enough that we need the extra space.  After we checked in and got everyone settled down, it was time for showers and bed. 

We went sightseeing for a couple of days, and to a science center.  The boys liked it, but they were holding out for the big one.  We took them to Six Flags; two days at Six Flags.  Taking my boys to any sort of amusement park is an adventure.  Two of my three children under eleven enjoy riding roller coasters and that kind of thing.  My oldest child of forty-something is a thrill ride nut;  the higher, the faster, the better. My other child under eleven gets bored quickly.  He can entertain himself for hours at home, but go anywhere and expect him to do the same and NOPE! 

Day one at Six Flags was for the water park.  We played in the wave pool, went on a lazy ride on inner tubes, watched the boys play in one of the areas designed for children only.  My husband and one of the twins disappeared to ride a couple of rides. 

All-in-all, a good day. Minus the time my husband disappeared with one of the twins for about an hour and I had to send my other two to the bathroom by themselves because they wouldn't let me take them in the women's restroom. (How's THAT for a run-on sentence?!) I stood right outside the restroom yelling, "Don't talk to anybody, if anyone looks at you yell, don't leave each other alone, and get right back out here as soon as you can!"  And for those who dare call me overprotective, I wasn't the only mom of boys doing that. 

Day two at Six Flags was for the rest of the amusement park and the rides. One of my sons and I were waiting for the others--my husband and other two sons--to get done riding roller coasters and other such fun (read HELL no, we hate them!) rides. We were playing some of the skills games. The first was a water pistol one. You shoot at the target and win a cape. EVERYBODY wins! (My kind of game!). I said I wanted a Batman cape.

 "Batman? What about BatGIRL instead? You know, since you're a GIRL?" the young man asked.

I stared at him a minute. "I'm not a GIRL, and I SAID I want BATMAN!"

He gave me my cape. Then I skipped around the amusement park with my son singing, "Nah-nah, nah-nah, nah-nah, nah-nah, Batman!"

Then we see...da, da, dumm! A video arcade! We go in because, well, it's a video arcade and my eight year old is in heaven on earth. He immediately finds the token machine for me. So helpful, isn't he?  We (the royal we) purchase tokens and I give him a handful. He finds a shooting game in a matter of nanoseconds. It gives no tickets for reward. The reward is killing off massive amounts of horrendously frightening robotic skeleton creature thingies. Whee. But whatever. 

I wander over to a game that lights up and sounds like a casino game. Woohoo! Some 20 minutes later, the rest of the boys find us in the arcade. I have a fistful of tickets and tokens, and am grinning like a fool. Life is good. 

Then we decide to head towards yet another thrill ride. This one is close to the kiddie rides. My partner-in-crime is beyond excited. We head over to the kiddie rides while the hubby and his two thrill seekers get in line for more upside-down, faster than the speed of light, puke-fest fun! 

I dutifully stand by, waiting for my little guy to get on one ride after another. He even helps calm down a couple of younger kids. (Go ahead, ooo and ahh--you know you want to! Are you done yet?) Next year he will be way too tall for any of the rides.  (Mom moment here--my baby's growing up.)

The other three join us in a while and three of the four run from kiddie ride to kiddie ride. My big boy, the hubby, was a too tall for these rides. He was a little disappointed, if you ask me. 

By the end of the day, we were dead tired.  We ate dinner and got everyone ready for bed.  Nobody protested.  The next two days we spent sightseeing and lazing by the pool.  The boys were ready for some down time and didn't complain much.

We decided to head back a day early so that we could rest before my husband went back to work on Monday.  We were even more jammed in the van on the way home, but thankfully the drive was much less chaotic and stressful. We asked the boys what their favorite parts of the vacation were.  The answer?  ALL OF IT!  That makes it all worthwhile. 

Thanks for reading!

A Typical Summer Morning

4:00 A.M. My husband's alarm STARTS ringing. Every 15 minutes thereafter, it rings and he hits snooze. 

I should buy a sledgehammer. 

5:30 A.M. My twins are "quietly" talking and doing construction in their room. 

I really love my kids. 

I should buy melatonin. 

6:00 A.M. "Mom, Mom, Mom, he won't give me the remote!"

"He's lying! It's MY turn! Mom, Mom, are you even listening?!"

I have one eye partially open watching the coffee pot. I should buy earplugs. 

6:30 A.M. My oldest child wakes up, slams into my chair, causes my coffee to spill in my lap. "Sorry, Mom."

"Yeow!"

I should buy burn cream.

6:45 A.M. "You boys need to have breakfast and take your medicine."

Silence and no movement. 

"And what do you want?"

Silence. 

I hate these cartoons and video games. 

I should disconnect cable. 

7:00 A.M. "What do you want for breakfast because we need to take medicine and if you don't eat you are not going to have your medicine on time and then I have to deal with you bouncing off the walls and I really do not want to do that and OUCH who left the Legos on the floor?!?"

I should buy steel toed boots. 

7:30 A.M. Finally, the boys are eating breakfast! 

"Mom! He looked at me, really he did, he looked right at me and made a face."

"Mom. Mom. Mom. He pointed at me with the BAD finger! MOM!"

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it now!!"

I should buy wine.  

8:00 A.M. "I'm going to get a shower. Do NOT: open the door, stand on the furniture, stand on each other, jump on or off the furniture, jump on or off each other, touch each other; hit, kick, look at, breathe on, or point at each other."

"What Mom?"

Arrrrrgghh!

I should buy a case of wine. 

8:15 A.M. I step out of the shower, with shampoo dripping in my eyes, grab a towel and clutch it around me as I run to investigate the screams and crashes coming from the family room. 

I should get rid of the furniture and pad the walls. 

8:20 Shampoo has dried in my hair and my eyesight has been permanently damaged from the shampoo. 

I should buy dry shampoo. And call the eye doctor. 

8:30 I get the boys dressed, tell them to get in the van. We have to go to the bank, grocery store and to pay the water bill. They fight all the way to the bank. The bank is 10 minutes from my house. 

I need a soundproof glass behind the front seat...or earplugs. I need to call the car dealership. 

9:00 Bank trip done, bill paid. Next stop, grocery store. I remind the boys that we're on a budget and must stick to the list. 

Add a case of wine to the list. 

10:00 No less than three dozen fights separated in the grocery store, a cart full of groceries and one exhausted mom later; shopping done. 

When did I put ten boxes of cookies in the cart?! Ah, there's the wine!

11:00 Groceries put away, children ready for lunch and quiet time. 

I forgot to buy the earplugs. But I've got wine!

Embrace the Weirdness

"Mom, I'm weird." I cringed when I heard my son say these words.

"Don't say that!"

"Oh no, Mom, I'm okay with being weird. It means I'm not just like everyone else."

Wow. What insight for a ten year old! And the more I think about it, the more I agree. Who wants to be a carbon copy of everyone else? Okay, a lot of people do. It's what we spend hours doing every day, isn't it? Trying to conform, to be like our friends when we're young.  Sometimes even when we're not-so-young.

What a bold statement, a brave one. I'm pretty sure he won't always feel that way. But I hope it doesn't take him as long as it has me to truly embrace being "different", "odd", "peculiar", "not like us"; all words I've heard used to describe me.

In the words of Dr Seuss:

"Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You." (From "Happy Birthday to YOU")

 

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. 

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!

Shit

I have a potty mouth. I know, I know, you're shocked. But really, I do. I try to refrain, but as I said in a previous post, I'm not perfect! 

My children, surprisingly enough, haven't picked up on as much as I thought they might. But when they decide to use those forbidden words, they make sure it's in full hearing range of...oh... clergy, teachers, other parents, you know, the people I really want them to be on their best behavior for. 

My youngest's favorite word happens to be 'shit'.  He thinks it's funny to see my face go purple, eyes bulging, steam from the ears.

I guess I have myself (and my husband) to blame. Shit! 

Ride 'em, Cowboy!

When my twins were around 2 or 3, they were playing quietly. If you have children, know anyone with children or have ever been a child, you know quiet = danger. I went to check to see what they were up to. I walked in their room and twin A was sitting on twin B's back, while twin B crawled around the room. 

"What on EARTH are you doing?!" 

Twin A replied, "He's a cow and I'm a cowboy."

SMH! Of course! Made perfect sense. As I struggled not to laugh, I thought about a popular series of books I read when I was young. Amelia Bedelia was one of my favorite characters. Everything she was told, she took literally. 

Children are like that. When I say, "You're going to give me a heart attack", they believe they're literally going to give me a heart attack. Of course, I have three boys so they probably will. 

Next time you hear "ride 'em cowboy!", I'll bet it makes you smile. 

Inappropriate Behavior

I worked in the counseling field for a number of years.  Because of my training, degree and occupation, the phrases "inappropriate behavior", "responsibility for our actions", "appropriate response" and that sort of  "therapist speak" are pretty much the norm around my house.  I never thought much about it, until the first conference with the principal at my boys' elementary school.

The principal had called me in because of the inappropriate classroom behavior of one of my boys.  As we were discussing the incident, she remarked that she'd never heard a child use words like he was using.  As a parent of three very mischievous little boys who's father was a sailor, I was a little frightened to hear what she had to say next.

She said he knew his behavior was "inappropriate" and that he should have "made better choices" because his "response was not the best one for the situation".  I laughed and told her what my occupation was before I had children. 

Nice to know they're listening!

Not Babies Any More

This was the first day of school for the trio. My oldest is a fourth grader and is much too cool for Mom. The twins are in second grade and decided that they no longer need Mom to walk them in either. I have to admit I got a little teary eyed at the thought of my babies being at that stage. But it's all a part of the process. I'd much rather have them be independent than to cry and cling to me. It shows that they're well-adjusted little people. (Sniff, sniff)

Then my mind wanders to the teachers that we entrust with our children. I pray that they all really love children. And that they aren't like a few people I knew in college who went into teaching for summers and Christmas vacations off. I pray they look at those eager little faces and use the authority they have to help guide and nurture them. And I hope the ones who are sharp and impatient realize what a responsibility they have, and that it softens them just a little.

Nothing is more precious than those little beings we bring into the world. So, when they say "Mom, I don't need you", we let them go. And we wait with open arms when they run back for that hug, that quick kiss, content that they are traveling along the road of life just as they should.

Thank you for reading.

Parenting Woes

This morning my 9 year old tells me about a new friend of his. This "friend", we'll call him Johnny (little Johnny always gets into trouble in stories), tells my kiddo he has a social media account. Sigh. I can feel myself gearing up for the fight. So, my kiddo says he thinks we should let him online to get a social media account.

He goes on to say, "And before you say I'm not old enough, all I have to do is lie about my age."

No. Nope. Uh uh. He did NOT just say that to me. I explained that we don't encourage or tolerate lying in this house. And that once you start lying, it's hard to stop.

He then tells me that "Johnny" said his friend posted a comment saying someone is a "f'ing 'tard." Damn, damn, damn. We have worked so hard to keep him from using words like that!

I went on to explain that 'tard is slang for retarded and that we NEVER use that word. It's hurtful, ignorant and inexcusable. And I know you're probably wondering why I didn't address the f-bomb. He knows it's not okay to say, he even said so before he quoted "Johnny".

Now I'm faced with that age-old parental dilemma of REALLY disliking this new friend and knowing if I say so, he'll stick like glue. My plan? I'm going to get to know this child (he's a recent addition to a group my kiddo belongs to) and perhaps I can minimize the damage.

In the meantime, I'll watch closely, be glad he confides in me and pray he loses interest in this new friend SOON!!

And the social media fight was nipped in the bud quickly after the f-bomb and the "r" word. If we're doing this now, what in the world will happen during his teen years?!

P.S. Mom, I'm really sorry for my friends you didn't like. I know why now.