Tag: parenting

Be mine – you’ll thank me later

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it
Nothing says I love you like an ultimatum (image from flickr)

Valentines Day is Saturday, just in case you had somehow avoided the seasonal section at the local drug store during the last few weeks. I wouldn’t blame you if you had. Most of the Valentines related merchandise at the store closest to me has already been marked down and moved to the discount rack to make room for Easter.

I had received a notice from my son’s teacher that all students were to bring in Valentines for the class along with a small treat. She was even kind enough to provide a list of names as well as a suggested schedule of how many we should create each night so as not to overwhelm our child. I don’t exactly know where I stand on this issue. Doesn’t the Valentine lose a bit of its sparkle when it is a) mandatory and b) generic? But then again, kiddo is only six. In his book, any assignment that results in candy is a good assignment.

Up until this time, we had made all of our cards for his friends at day care by hand. Some were finger paints. Some were water colors. Some were random pieces of paper glued together in a shape vaguely resembling a heart (why I am not on dozens of Pinterest boards is a mystery). Making individualized cards by hand is easy when there are only four other children at the center with a supervising adult (especially when most can’t read more than their name), but the list his teacher sent home this year contained over twenty names. Gah! Who has time for that?

To my darling boy, if you happen to come across mommy’s writing at some future date and see this post, know that we love you, and are so terribly, terribly proud of you, but watching you write sentences at this age can sometimes be like watching someone trying to go the wrong way on an escalator. You know the person is getting exercise, but it seems to take an unnecessarily long time to reach the destination.

I made the executive decision that we would be purchasing cards this year. All he would have to do is copy each friend’s name from the list on the card. He selected a box featuring several different Hot Wheel’s race car designs and got to work. I would read a name from the list as he scribbled away. As I read the name of one of his best friends, he turned the card over and looked at the image. “Oh, he is going to love this one!” he smiled. A few names later, he flipped the card over again. Only this time he frowned as he said, “she’s not going to like this card.”

Apparently, in my son’s opinion, if it isn’t pink, purple, or has Elsa on the back, the girls in his class just aren’t interested. However, I had no interest in picking up a second pack of cards. It is the thought that counts, right? I told him the girls would have to accept what he gave them. The message must have sunk in, because when the next girl’s name was read he announced proudly that “she was just going to have to get over it.”

Imagine then how guilty then I felt to read a piece in the Washington Post about how the mindset which allows a man to view women as conquests, rather than people, might actually develop in early childhood. In it, the author argues:

“We teach our boys that it’s up to them to be the aggressor, to make a move, to ask her out. We teach our girls to sit and wait and hope for someone to invite them to prom.

Media and pop culture messages tell boys that girls are desirable and weak and emotional. Conversely, they show girls that boys are aggressive and strong and, more often than not, in charge.”

Had I just taught my son that the girls in his class should feel grateful to receive anything at all from him rather than something that actually reflected their interest? That they should automatically enjoy whatever my son dished out because it was what he had picked? I may have to do some damage control.

Then again, what if there are girls in my son’s class who like cars over princesses? What if there are girls who don’t like pink? They might enjoy getting a card featuring a neon green hot rod with blue racing stripes. They might not have to “get over it.” They might actually like getting the card my son will be handing out. We just assumed they wouldn’t because they are five and six-year-old girls. I was mentally separating the genders. The article’s author is right. This practice has to stop for gender equality to take hold. I just wish it was as easy as drawing a heart on a hand made card.

It just goes to show you that Valentines Day is a dangerous holiday. Perhaps next year we’ll celebrate National Ferris Wheel Day instead.

 

Villany close to home

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

My little lord tyrant, also known as my toddler (2), is nearing the end of his terrible twos. This would excite me beyond belief if it were not for the fact that prior experience has taught me the threes are even more trying.

As he sat in his booster seat at the table the other day considering whether or not food would look better either smeared in his hair or on the floor (because in his tummy is definitely not where it belongs), the hubby and I sought ways to distract him. We asked him what he wanted for his big day.

I wasn’t really expecting an articulate response. He is still two after all, and he did quite well for himself during the holiday season, but I was expecting him to say “planes,” or “monkeys,” or even “dinosaurs!” all of which are his reigning favorites. Instead he answered, “parties.”

My elder son, 6, was flabbergasted. Did his younger brother really just turn down presents? Surely his brother didn’t mean what he had just said. He obviously did not understand the question properly. He looked at 2 and offered multiple alternative suggestions. Don’t you want this? Don’t you want that? He was nearly begging his brother to suggest something, anything, that could be picked up from the store. 2 listened attentively. His brother was talking directly to him and as far as he is concerned his elder brother is a rock star.

You could almost see the gears turning in his head. Finally, after deciding that his food looked best squished into a paste on top of his place mat, 2 answered, “I don think so…”

Could it be that my youngest has already figured out that shared experiences are so much better than physical things? Could he, at 2, already be on the path toward a zen like state of happy acceptance? As both the hubby and I are flirting with minimalism, we were so proud.

But then I brought this story up to a few who also know his little lord majesty. They suggested a chilling alternative. What if 2 had already devised that “Party” typically means multiple presents? He did ask for parties. Plural. What if he really understood what the word meant? Why settle for a short list when you can have it all! My son could be playing a much bigger game.

Stewie Griffin
Stewie Griffin (Photo credit: Wikipedia) a character obviously based on my toddler

If that is the case, if his request was thought out, then there is a level of evil genius behind those adorable blue eyes that should frighten me to my core.

“He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson. He is the organizer of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city, He is a genius, a philosopher, an abstract thinker. He has a brain of the first order. He sits motionless, like a spider in the center of its web, but that web has a thousand radiations, and he knows well every quiver of each of them. He does little himself. He only plans.”

Sir Arthur Doyle wrote those words to describe Dr. Moriarty, but Sherlock Holmes could easily be describing my second born.

It’s a good thing then for my son’s sake, that I’ve always enjoyed a well developed villain (or anti-hero) whether it be in a book or on the screen. I like to better understand their motivations. To me, there is something awe inspiring about seeing their plan unfurl after they have lead the “good guys” on a merry goose chase. I enjoy them because I believe that by examining our darker motivations on the page or screen we actually are inspired to be better people in our daily lives.

Recently, I decided to cut back on my regular posting in order to finish up rewrites on my current novel project. The year is only a couple weeks old and I’ve made more progress in these few days than I have over the last several weeks. I’m don’t believe I am giving away too much to say that it features a character who eventually could be described as a villain, but is far from considering herself as one. You may not particularly like her, but if I’ve done my job, at least you will start to understand her.

But what about the villains out there who aren’t fictitious? Does my fascination with the anti-hero mean that I should feel more compelled to understand their backstory? Should I care about their motivations when what they have done seems senseless? There is an old saying that goes the road to hell is paved with the best of intentions. I truly believe that most people, in their hearts, believe they are good people, doing what is just, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t capable of committing the most atrocious acts. This is why the end result matters as much as the person or persons committing the act. I might sympathize with a person’s plight, but some ends are never justified by the means. In order to be good, you must also do good.

Perhaps I need to work on being more understanding or forgiving. Perhaps the world needs to get a little less crazy.

Until then, I continue to only celebrate the villains on the page, the real-life heroes, and maybe a certain soon to be three year old’s big day.

Je suis Charlie!

Reflecting on 2014

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

Time sneaks up on you like a windshield on a bug – John Lithgow

It’s New Years Day. Another year has come and gone. I was fortunate enough to have the week between Christmas and New Year off from the day job and had been looking forward to this extra time since Thanksgiving. It was going to be time for me to spend time with my family, make a last-ditch effort to complete some of my 2014 goals, and of course reflect upon the last year.

I was able to do all of these things, and at the same time recognized one singular truth: I don’t pay the woman who watches my toddler nearly enough.

I thought this after our toddler snuck beside his dad in the bathroom and tried to ‘catch’ the stream. (Oh yes, my son – that one is going down in your permanent record). After spotting the lovely ‘snow’ made up of shredded tissue paper that materialized in our foyer during the nanosecond I wasn’t paying attention. (I blame you, coffee, for this one – you should not have taken so long to get into my cup that morning… There, there. Don’t worry, I can never stay mad at you long. All is already forgiven). And again during the entire day the toddler ran from me screaming if I so much as got within a foot of him because he was convinced I was going to put him to bed (he was only right a couple of those times).

My eldest had his fair share of moments as well. Although perhaps I share some of that blame. Looking back, when I said, please don’t come into the bonus room as it is where we are currently storing the boxes for the Christmas decorations, I clearly meant, why yes, I would love for you to turn each box over in there and spill the packaging materials out. I should be thanking him for reading my mind.

My holiday wasn’t perfect, but it was wonderful all the same. For each of the moments that made me want to pull my hair out, there were those I want to relive over and over. Like the watching my boys’ eyes light up as they glimpsed the pile of cookies set aside for Santa. Seeing that look of pure joy on their faces as they noticed the packages which magically appeared overnight around the tree. Listening to them belt out Christmas carols with half remembered lyrics. Those were the moments that made me wonder if my day job pays me enough to keep me away from my guys.

My time off between Christmas and New Years was very much a reflection of my entire year. There were some pretty stressful moments, moments that easily could have brought me down, but early in the year I had decided to focus on the positive. If I was only able to keep one resolution, I am glad it was that one. Because I was always on the lookout for a reason to be happy, some silver lining, I can now count at least as many accomplishments as I can failures. As a result, while I may not yet be a household name, I can still consider 2014 a resounding success.

Here’s to 2015. May it be just as rewarding!

while the video is not a scene from my house, it easily could have been…enjoy!

Thanksgiving away from home – what could be better?

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it
Has anyone's Thanksgiving ever gone like this?
Has anyone’s Thanksgiving ever gone this smoothly? (image from wikipedia.org)

I considered myself fortunate. We were traveling for Thanksgiving, meaning I wasn’t going to have to cook (a good thing for all involved – just ask my hubby sometime about my poultry cooking skills). I didn’t have to clean. All I was expected to do was to enjoy time with my family. Silly me. I forgot that I was traveling with a toddler.

I had barely closed my eyes on Thanksgiving eve when I heard my toddler’s cry in the adjacent room which he was sharing with his brother. I immediately sprang out of bed to see what was the matter worried that might wake up the rest of the household. I was ready to once again hear, “Where Monkey Man?” This time however it wasn’t merely a request to locate his favorite toy, he was sick, and not just with the sniffles.

I rushed him to the bath while the hubby took care of the linens. Eventually we were forced to turn the lights on while I rummaged around his bag looking for his spare set of pajamas. It turned out I needn’t worry about waking his brother. My eldest didn’t even bother turning over. (Man, I wish I could still sleep like that!)

Cleaned up, my toddler clung to me like a life raft. The hubby passed by carrying our travel toddler cot. (You could smell it from a distance.) Even if we had a spare set of sheets, kiddo wasn’t going to be able to sleep on it again any time soon. I had resigned myself to a night on the couch or rocking chair. when the hubby came by again. This time with a pillow in hand. He volunteered to stay on the couch so that our son and I might sleep more comfortably on a bed.

In hindsight, I think in the end he may have gotten the better end of the deal.

It was still a loooooonnnnng a night. At home, my toddler’s bed is near the ground and has guard rails. My in-law’s guest bed, on the other hand, is very tall and all sides are completely exposed. Each time my kiddo shifted, I worried he might slip over the side and plummet to the ground. I was afraid that the cries we had already heard that night would be whispers in comparison. I tried to pull him back closer to me, but that only served to wake him up enough to remind him that his tummy was still upset.

Several trips back to the bathroom later (progressively less necessary),  I realized that what I was doing wasn’t working. Unless I wanted to be completely worthless the following day, I was going to have to find a way for both of us to sleep. I realized I was going to have to give him more freedom of movement. I placed a few pillows near the bed’s edge, just in case, but then I let him go. Soon I heard soft, contented snores and I allowed myself to also fall into a light sleep.

I awoke hours later to the touch of small fingers on my forehead. (Oh no! Dawn is still hours away – please, please try to go back to sleep!) My little boy whispered, “Where mommy go?”

I answered, “Mommy’s here. Are you okay?” (yep, the couch was definitely the better option)

“I better.” Then no more words. Instead, he snuggled next to me, and the soft snores resumed in short order. Even though I knew right then that it was only a matter of time before I came down with whatever illness my toddler turned outbreak monkey possessed (4 days to be exact), I couldn’t help but smile. I’ll take what I can get.

My toddler used to only want to be with me. Then one day he stopped, and now prefers the company of his dad. All too soon, I know this stage will also be over and he’ll only want to be around his friends. I’ll eventually have to let him find his own way in life, but it is good to know that he’ll still look for mommy now and then.

Oh the joys of the 3AM wake up call

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it
The Bat-Signal as seen at the end of Batman
When does Batman/Bruce Wayne sleep between business and saving the day/night? I’ve often wondered. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It was three AM Sunday morning. More accurately 3:27. I know this because we have one of those clocks that project the time onto the ceiling like some sort of sadistic batman call sign. (In the wee hours of the morning, I tend to forget our rationale for buying it.) I could hear our toddler crying in his room. I closed my eyes, hoping in vain that he would settle himself down. If anything it increased in pitch and volume. To my side, I could hear the rhythmic breathing of my hubby still enjoying deep sleep. The toddler’s call wasn’t quite loud enough to rouse him – yet. Groan. It was up to me. Cursed mom ears, with their supersonic hearing, I thought to myself for the millionth time.

I stumbled down our hallway to the little guy’s room unwilling to turn on a light to help along the way. Opening the door, my son emitted one last loud cry before noticing that help had arrived. I’m not sure exactly what might have caused my son to wake up. Perhaps he had a nightmare, or maybe it was just the sound of the heat turning on that startled him. Who really knows what two-year-olds think about at night. The cause really didn’t matter. He was up and needed mom. I’m a fan of George R.R. Martin’s Game of Throne Series. The line, “for the night is dark and full of terrors” came to mind, as I picked him up and held him close.

Even though I was there he still he continued to whimper. I asked him what he needed, only to hear pitiful sounds in reply. A change of strategy was required. “Use your words,” I told him.

“I wan Monkey Man,” he answered (his reigning favorite toy). Of course he did. Sigh. Monkey Man is a small, flat, toy that is always hiding itself away. Why couldn’t my son have an obsession with a large, glow in the dark, GPS enabled toy that I could tether to the bed? Something woke him up and now he couldn’t find his friend. It was a catastrophe!

I told him that I would find it as I tucked him back into his bed. He looked up at me with a smile as I searched around the bedding, confident that all would be made right soon.

I located the little guy wedged between two other stuffed animals at the foot of the bed and handed it back to him. My toddler clutched his toy, snuggling next to with a sleepy grin as if he hadn’t just been wide awake and crying his eyes out five minutes before. All was once again right in toddlerland. I closed the door and tip toed back to my room where I proceeded to lie awake for the next twenty minutes.

There are many things that can keep me up at night. What if I am on the wrong track, what if I fail, what if something goes terribly, terribly wrong? How nice would it be if all my fears and doubts could be as easily silenced as my son’s. On those nights when I lie awake in a panic, does my mom still wake up wondering why her ears are tingling?

Of course none of that matters to the little boy down the hall. He doesn’t care that about what I do or don’t do well. All he cares about is that there is someone who will hold him tight when he’s afraid and help make everything right, and he adores me for it. It gives me a warm feeling that is almost worth the 3AM wake up call. Almost.

My boys will be grown and on their own in what will seem like a blink of the eye. I’ll soon know first hand whether or not mom ears ever lose their acute sense of hearing. If fears seem more terrible at night, at least I can take comfort knowing that as time flies by, dawn will arrive that much sooner, and with it, delicious coffee.

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(Photo credit: Wikipedia)