The Olympics start tonight. With all the hype leading up to them, I have had a warm feeling of nostalgia. I haven't really been able to explore the feeling, it was more in the back of my mind...like fleeting deja vue. I mean, the Olympics are awesome. Everyone loves to watch them and cheer on our athletes. But this felt like more..and it felt more personal.
Last night I had a rare dance with insomnia. During this time, I realized why the Summer Olympics make me feel a happy longing and a nostalgic buzz.
Four years ago I had two 10 month olds. Being preemies, they were still tiny and still ate frequently. They also still woke up twice a night to take a bottle. So four years ago, I would huddle on the couch with two warm bottles and two warm babies, with the gymnastics and swimming competitions on mute in the middle of the night. I would nuzzle two little fuzzy heads and sniff sleepy baby smell times two while watching a medal ceremony live at 2 in the morning.
That's what the Summer Olympics will be to me. Not just something that can bring the country together, but memories of my babies..who are growing, growing, gone. Replaced by little boys.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Friday, July 20, 2012
Sugar and Spice and nothing nice
Girls can be mean, nasty little things. I am not sure exactly what age it starts. I don't remember. But I do know by High School it is full blown in your face bitchiness. Girls are jealous, competitive, vindictive brats. Most of the sugar and spice has disappeared, replaced with catty remarks and insults towards other girls. This doesn't mean true best friends don't exist as a teenager, it just means that motives are questionable. Even the girls who "have your back" can mislead you.
There was an acquaintance freshman year who had long, thick blond hair. All of the boys in school noticed and commented on it. One day during gym class she told me she was thinking of cutting it. I encouraged her, and told her it would "show-off her pretty face better". Petty, right? But really a minor indiscretion in the world of HS girls. (She didn't cut, it by the way.) Smart bitch.
Boys were the major point of contention. They could make girls tear each other apart. Turn on each other. Ruin each other's lives. So sad to look back on. Very few of those teen-age boys were probably worth it. And at the same time, those teen-age boys sometimes made much better friends than a lot of girls. Boys are not petty, jealous or vindictive. They are not nearly as calculating or dramatic. They get pissed, they get over it. They don't wage verbal assualts and nasty lunchroom wars that can span over 4 (or more) years.
We moved to a new state late in my High School career. I was devastated, because life was pretty good and I didn't want to leave. And I certainly didn't want to start over. But I had no choice, so I put on a brave face. I made my first close friend soon after we moved in. He lived a few houses down the street, and offered me a ride to school. He and I stayed close friends the remainder of high school, much to the chagrin of his on again/off again girlfriend.
A few girls reached out to me, offering hellos or directions to classrooms. But mostly it was the boys who were helpful, nice, accomodating. And this was my downfall. I was unknowingly making enemies...girls who were dating, had dated or wanted to date these guys who were driving me to school, walking me to class, calling me in the evenings. I was naive, and I shouldn't have been. Most of these kids had gone to school together since kindergarten, and I was an outsider. It wasn't long before my house was toilet papered on a regular basis. Plastic Forks decorted my yard. "Bitch" scrawled in shaving cream on my car. And all the while, I just wanted to make friends. Sure, I was still on the homecoming court, still made cheerleading at the new school, but every victory also brought me another round of vengeance for the perceived wrongs I had done these girls. By moving there, by flirting, by trying to fit in. I had a few girl friends, but they came and went with the everchanging wind of anger at the school. Or they had boyfriends of their own that consumed most of their social lives. Pretty soon I knew I just had to ride it out..graduate and get the hell outta Dodge.
College was much better, although it was still the norm to watch young women tear each other apart if they got the chance. True friends seemed more true as maturity prevailed. I made friends there I still love today. But there was always an underlying current of competitiveness. Whose grades were better, who got engaged first, etc. Some women could use this competitiveness to motivate them, while others let it consume them.
Unfortunately, adult women in the work place are not immune from the cattiness and drama we indulged in while teens. Before I had kids, when I had a "carreer", I would witness women tear each other apart in the workplace, usually back handedly and in a duplicitous manner. But there were women who were good and true friends. Women who supported each other and cheered each other and revelled in each other's successes. But if there was drama and pettiness going on, you could almost always contribute it to a group of women clucking like hens.
Moms are a different story. I think there may still be underlying competitiveness. Still criticising and complaining behind one another's backs (mostly to one's husband), but that is human nature. I think in a group of moms, you can find more support and empathy than any other group of women around. Because being a mom is hard, yo. And we all want what is best for our kids. Maybe we can unite in the fact that we all want what is best for our babies, rather than fight over "that cute boy" or "that promotion". Maybe loving someone else so whole heartedly more than we love ourselves let's us put the cattiness and competitiveness aside. Well most of it at least. I still think people with long gorgeous hair should cut it off, because it is just too distracting. And if you look better than I do in yoga pants, you should stop wearing them and buy mom jeans. And if your house is spotless, you must be ignoring your kids..and so on, and so on.
There was an acquaintance freshman year who had long, thick blond hair. All of the boys in school noticed and commented on it. One day during gym class she told me she was thinking of cutting it. I encouraged her, and told her it would "show-off her pretty face better". Petty, right? But really a minor indiscretion in the world of HS girls. (She didn't cut, it by the way.) Smart bitch.
Boys were the major point of contention. They could make girls tear each other apart. Turn on each other. Ruin each other's lives. So sad to look back on. Very few of those teen-age boys were probably worth it. And at the same time, those teen-age boys sometimes made much better friends than a lot of girls. Boys are not petty, jealous or vindictive. They are not nearly as calculating or dramatic. They get pissed, they get over it. They don't wage verbal assualts and nasty lunchroom wars that can span over 4 (or more) years.
We moved to a new state late in my High School career. I was devastated, because life was pretty good and I didn't want to leave. And I certainly didn't want to start over. But I had no choice, so I put on a brave face. I made my first close friend soon after we moved in. He lived a few houses down the street, and offered me a ride to school. He and I stayed close friends the remainder of high school, much to the chagrin of his on again/off again girlfriend.
A few girls reached out to me, offering hellos or directions to classrooms. But mostly it was the boys who were helpful, nice, accomodating. And this was my downfall. I was unknowingly making enemies...girls who were dating, had dated or wanted to date these guys who were driving me to school, walking me to class, calling me in the evenings. I was naive, and I shouldn't have been. Most of these kids had gone to school together since kindergarten, and I was an outsider. It wasn't long before my house was toilet papered on a regular basis. Plastic Forks decorted my yard. "Bitch" scrawled in shaving cream on my car. And all the while, I just wanted to make friends. Sure, I was still on the homecoming court, still made cheerleading at the new school, but every victory also brought me another round of vengeance for the perceived wrongs I had done these girls. By moving there, by flirting, by trying to fit in. I had a few girl friends, but they came and went with the everchanging wind of anger at the school. Or they had boyfriends of their own that consumed most of their social lives. Pretty soon I knew I just had to ride it out..graduate and get the hell outta Dodge.
College was much better, although it was still the norm to watch young women tear each other apart if they got the chance. True friends seemed more true as maturity prevailed. I made friends there I still love today. But there was always an underlying current of competitiveness. Whose grades were better, who got engaged first, etc. Some women could use this competitiveness to motivate them, while others let it consume them.
Unfortunately, adult women in the work place are not immune from the cattiness and drama we indulged in while teens. Before I had kids, when I had a "carreer", I would witness women tear each other apart in the workplace, usually back handedly and in a duplicitous manner. But there were women who were good and true friends. Women who supported each other and cheered each other and revelled in each other's successes. But if there was drama and pettiness going on, you could almost always contribute it to a group of women clucking like hens.
Moms are a different story. I think there may still be underlying competitiveness. Still criticising and complaining behind one another's backs (mostly to one's husband), but that is human nature. I think in a group of moms, you can find more support and empathy than any other group of women around. Because being a mom is hard, yo. And we all want what is best for our kids. Maybe we can unite in the fact that we all want what is best for our babies, rather than fight over "that cute boy" or "that promotion". Maybe loving someone else so whole heartedly more than we love ourselves let's us put the cattiness and competitiveness aside. Well most of it at least. I still think people with long gorgeous hair should cut it off, because it is just too distracting. And if you look better than I do in yoga pants, you should stop wearing them and buy mom jeans. And if your house is spotless, you must be ignoring your kids..and so on, and so on.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
My daughter is a girly girl, and I love it.
During a week long family reunion, we all wrote our names on plastic cups with sharpies to avoid mixing up our drinks. I asked my daughter if she wanted "Sophia" (her name) or "Sophie" (what we call her) on her cup.
"PRINCESS Sophia" was her response.
"Oh, of course", I acknowledged and wrote it on her cup as requested. Her red (solo) cup, because there were no PINK cups as she really wanted, but red was the closest to pink.
Out of 10 pajama choices she has every night, we are relegated to three. The nightgowns that "spin" are the only acceptable choices right now. The frillier the better. Ruffles and lace. Sugar and spice.
She loves to play with my makeup. She begs me to paint her nails. She admires my jewelery. She stands in my closet looking at shoes and pointing out her favorite pairs, saying in a valley girl voice."Oh Mah Gawsh, those are beeyootiful".
She wants to grow her hair as long as Rapunzel's. She likes Barbie, and Hello Kitty and Disney Princesses.
She is a girly girl. And I love it. I stuck bows to her head before she even had hair. I had our pediatrician pierce her ears just after her 1st birthday, and she has donned little pearls ever since. I love shopping for girly clothes. Even her tennis shoes sparkle and light up.
She totally embraces her femininity. She LOVES being a girl. And I encourage it every opportunity I can.
I tell her she is adorable, cute, beautiful all the time. I also tell her she is smart and sweet. And she is all of the afore mentioned. She is so smart and well spoken. She is a sweet cuddler. And she is totally adorable.
Some people are offended by marketing that targets a specific gender. Others oppose anything that plays into gender stereotypes. This blows my mind. What is so wrong with a little girl being girly? Especially since she enjoys it and gravitates to it.
If she wants to play softball or soccer, I will certainly let her and encourage her and cheer her on whole-heartedly, but if she dreams of being a ballerina I will support that enthusiastically, tu-tu and all. If she wants to be a fairy princess for every Halloween the next five years, wonderful. If she wants to be zombie, too bad.
She is a tough little girl, who can wrestle her brothers and kick a ball across the yard. She is messy and sloppy. She doesn't mind dirt, and will seek out a mud puddle to jump in. She'll just have a big bow in her hair while she does it all.
"PRINCESS Sophia" was her response.
"Oh, of course", I acknowledged and wrote it on her cup as requested. Her red (solo) cup, because there were no PINK cups as she really wanted, but red was the closest to pink.
Out of 10 pajama choices she has every night, we are relegated to three. The nightgowns that "spin" are the only acceptable choices right now. The frillier the better. Ruffles and lace. Sugar and spice.
She loves to play with my makeup. She begs me to paint her nails. She admires my jewelery. She stands in my closet looking at shoes and pointing out her favorite pairs, saying in a valley girl voice."Oh Mah Gawsh, those are beeyootiful".
She wants to grow her hair as long as Rapunzel's. She likes Barbie, and Hello Kitty and Disney Princesses.
She is a girly girl. And I love it. I stuck bows to her head before she even had hair. I had our pediatrician pierce her ears just after her 1st birthday, and she has donned little pearls ever since. I love shopping for girly clothes. Even her tennis shoes sparkle and light up.
She totally embraces her femininity. She LOVES being a girl. And I encourage it every opportunity I can.
I tell her she is adorable, cute, beautiful all the time. I also tell her she is smart and sweet. And she is all of the afore mentioned. She is so smart and well spoken. She is a sweet cuddler. And she is totally adorable.
Some people are offended by marketing that targets a specific gender. Others oppose anything that plays into gender stereotypes. This blows my mind. What is so wrong with a little girl being girly? Especially since she enjoys it and gravitates to it.
If she wants to play softball or soccer, I will certainly let her and encourage her and cheer her on whole-heartedly, but if she dreams of being a ballerina I will support that enthusiastically, tu-tu and all. If she wants to be a fairy princess for every Halloween the next five years, wonderful. If she wants to be zombie, too bad.
She is a tough little girl, who can wrestle her brothers and kick a ball across the yard. She is messy and sloppy. She doesn't mind dirt, and will seek out a mud puddle to jump in. She'll just have a big bow in her hair while she does it all.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
My favorite non essential but now somewhat essential purchases...
Please note that I have received NO compensation (or even recognition) for telling you about the following purchases, but I would totally take money or free products if they were offered to me. Just sayin'...
My Keurig. How I love thee. Before this purchase, I actually had to brew a pot of coffee, and wait. I had to scoop grounds, use a filter, fill up the water and WAIT for percolation to occur. No More. Awesome cup of coffee and practically any flavor or roast in a minute. When I first got it, my husband thought it was a waste, Now he is in love with it too.
My iphone. I know, I know. Phones are for making phone calls. But I love my smart phone. It is smarter than I. It also entertains my children with games and keeps me from getting lost and can find any phone number I might ever need, and then dial it with one touch. I can text and not actually have to engage another person in conversation, and I can do fancy things like "check-in" and post pictures of my adorable children instantly.
My Nook. I love love love to read. I love Barnes and Noble. Because I love Barnes and Noble I decided on the Nook rather than a kindle. I now have the Nook Color. You can buy virtually any book and have it in your library and downloading in about a minute. Not to mention apps like Angry Birds and Frogger...(I have three kids and they don't share the iphone well). There is a free book every Friday and you have the option to loan certain books to your friends and vice versa for no charge. I also have Netflix on it and fully intend to wastch every episode of Downton Abbey very soon. And maybe The Tudors. If I ever have time. And can get it away from my kids.
Annual Zoo Family Membership. Kids never get tired of Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my. Or of anteaters and stingrays. And there is a train and a carousel. Score! My kids are at the perfect age and they have a ball everytime we go. Even when it is 94 degrees and I am sweating to the point that I have pit and underboob stains. Gross, I know, but true. This is Florida after all.
Annual Beach Pass. Get this...we drive the mother-Trucker right on to the beach. Park there and then pop open the trunk, unload towels, coolers, buckets, etc. Walk about 10 feet and plop down in front of the ocean. Awesome. No hiking back and forth from the public parking lot blocks from the beach with three little kids and all of their accoutrements in 95 degree heat covered in sand and miserable. Nope, easy peasy. My kids are also at a great age to jump in the little waves and search for shells and build castles.
Highlights. And I love my salon. You walk in to the lobby and wouldn't you know it? You are greated by a Keurig. And the scent of coffee mixed with Aveda products. And then I get pampered with a scalp massage and an hour and a half of undivided attention. Plus, highlights are pretty. And Vain? Possibly, but that's ok. They make me feel a little less soccer mom and a little more va-va-voom. cha-cha-cha if you will. You know, hot. As hot as one can be with underboob sweat.....
My Keurig. How I love thee. Before this purchase, I actually had to brew a pot of coffee, and wait. I had to scoop grounds, use a filter, fill up the water and WAIT for percolation to occur. No More. Awesome cup of coffee and practically any flavor or roast in a minute. When I first got it, my husband thought it was a waste, Now he is in love with it too.
My iphone. I know, I know. Phones are for making phone calls. But I love my smart phone. It is smarter than I. It also entertains my children with games and keeps me from getting lost and can find any phone number I might ever need, and then dial it with one touch. I can text and not actually have to engage another person in conversation, and I can do fancy things like "check-in" and post pictures of my adorable children instantly.
My Nook. I love love love to read. I love Barnes and Noble. Because I love Barnes and Noble I decided on the Nook rather than a kindle. I now have the Nook Color. You can buy virtually any book and have it in your library and downloading in about a minute. Not to mention apps like Angry Birds and Frogger...(I have three kids and they don't share the iphone well). There is a free book every Friday and you have the option to loan certain books to your friends and vice versa for no charge. I also have Netflix on it and fully intend to wastch every episode of Downton Abbey very soon. And maybe The Tudors. If I ever have time. And can get it away from my kids.
Annual Zoo Family Membership. Kids never get tired of Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my. Or of anteaters and stingrays. And there is a train and a carousel. Score! My kids are at the perfect age and they have a ball everytime we go. Even when it is 94 degrees and I am sweating to the point that I have pit and underboob stains. Gross, I know, but true. This is Florida after all.
Annual Beach Pass. Get this...we drive the mother-Trucker right on to the beach. Park there and then pop open the trunk, unload towels, coolers, buckets, etc. Walk about 10 feet and plop down in front of the ocean. Awesome. No hiking back and forth from the public parking lot blocks from the beach with three little kids and all of their accoutrements in 95 degree heat covered in sand and miserable. Nope, easy peasy. My kids are also at a great age to jump in the little waves and search for shells and build castles.
Highlights. And I love my salon. You walk in to the lobby and wouldn't you know it? You are greated by a Keurig. And the scent of coffee mixed with Aveda products. And then I get pampered with a scalp massage and an hour and a half of undivided attention. Plus, highlights are pretty. And Vain? Possibly, but that's ok. They make me feel a little less soccer mom and a little more va-va-voom. cha-cha-cha if you will. You know, hot. As hot as one can be with underboob sweat.....
Monday, June 4, 2012
cliches
I drove into the parking lot and parked as close as I could without being noticed by my kids. I wanted to observe them for a few minutes. Watch them play and interact without knowing I was there. As soon as they saw me they would come running and have stories to tell me, so I just wanted to watch them run back and forth, between the bouncy house and the water slide. Wanted to see how much they played with each other as well as the other kids and their teachers. They were getting so big. So independant. It was the twins last day at pre-pre-school. They were care-free and having so much fun. In the fall they will start school 5 mornings a week. This makes me choke and my breathing staggers. I felt my heart rate increase and my stomach roll. They are just babies. Babies who I was told would never take a breath. Babies who I held onto as long as I could while stuck in a hospital bed for 8 weeks. Babies who each weighed less than 3 pounds when they were born. Covered in tubes and wires. Constant beeping in the NICU and too tiny to hold. Oxygen levels dropping, heart stopping in fits of bradychardia. So much chaos and so much uncertainty. And when they finally came home, 2 months after they were born, they were still smaller than most babies at birth. And an oxygen tank like a bomb came home with them and sat in the corner of the nursery. As well as a heart monitor which went off all hours of the night. And in the car. Always in the car, on the interstate, on the way to this specialist or that check-up, the heart monitor would go off.
No one can take care of these babies like I can. No one understands. No one really gets it. And now they will be in the hands of someone else every weekday morning. Someone I don't know. And even though I think I am "over it" since they are healthy and perfect now, I realize that I am still going to be racked with panic attacks brought on by seemimgly normal events. I will never completely recover from being told my babies would die, from watching them almost die, from living in a state of limbo that bordered on Hell rather than Heaven. Transitions in their lives will never be effortless for me. I will always be overly anxious and even cryptic when it comes to my children, even though I am a happy and positive person.
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger". We hear it a lot, right? I'm sure I've even said it before. But now I'm really thinking about it. Reflecting on it. Taking into consideration things I have been through, things friends have experienced, different versions of Hell through which we have walked. And I can't be sure. Are we stronger because of it?
There are a lot of broken people out there. A lot of good people who have been traumatized and shaken and defeated. And they recover and persevere. And they are wiser and more grateful. More appreciative, more gracious. More empathetic and sympathetic. But all of that doesn't necessarily equal "stronger". Because those people are also scared and scarred. And relieved, but cautious.
Sometimes we experience things that never leave us, that haunt us. They shape us, but they also disfigure our psyche. Things that leave us gasping for breath years later with little provocation. Things that have us looking over our shoulders. Things that make you realize that sometimes it is almost too scary to love other people. Some experiences make us terrified to hold on too tightly, but just as scared to let go.
I am a believer that things happen for a reason. Good and bad. But I cannot even fathom that reason at times. I am also a believer of intercession and miracles.
Our worst experiences make us realize we can live through things bigger than us, and worse than we had previously imagined. And they put things into perspective for us. But they also make us vulnerable and aware. Sometimes knowlege isn't power. Sometimes it's debilitating.
No one can take care of these babies like I can. No one understands. No one really gets it. And now they will be in the hands of someone else every weekday morning. Someone I don't know. And even though I think I am "over it" since they are healthy and perfect now, I realize that I am still going to be racked with panic attacks brought on by seemimgly normal events. I will never completely recover from being told my babies would die, from watching them almost die, from living in a state of limbo that bordered on Hell rather than Heaven. Transitions in their lives will never be effortless for me. I will always be overly anxious and even cryptic when it comes to my children, even though I am a happy and positive person.
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger". We hear it a lot, right? I'm sure I've even said it before. But now I'm really thinking about it. Reflecting on it. Taking into consideration things I have been through, things friends have experienced, different versions of Hell through which we have walked. And I can't be sure. Are we stronger because of it?
There are a lot of broken people out there. A lot of good people who have been traumatized and shaken and defeated. And they recover and persevere. And they are wiser and more grateful. More appreciative, more gracious. More empathetic and sympathetic. But all of that doesn't necessarily equal "stronger". Because those people are also scared and scarred. And relieved, but cautious.
Sometimes we experience things that never leave us, that haunt us. They shape us, but they also disfigure our psyche. Things that leave us gasping for breath years later with little provocation. Things that have us looking over our shoulders. Things that make you realize that sometimes it is almost too scary to love other people. Some experiences make us terrified to hold on too tightly, but just as scared to let go.
I am a believer that things happen for a reason. Good and bad. But I cannot even fathom that reason at times. I am also a believer of intercession and miracles.
Our worst experiences make us realize we can live through things bigger than us, and worse than we had previously imagined. And they put things into perspective for us. But they also make us vulnerable and aware. Sometimes knowlege isn't power. Sometimes it's debilitating.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
eating out
I love to eat out. Someone else cooks, serves and cleans up. Bliss, right? Not always, when you have three kids.
Ordering is easy because the twins eat macaroni and cheese and french fries or pancakes and bacon. And that's about it. Oh, and bananas. And barbeque sauce. On everything. Lack of barbeque sauce equals trauma and actual tears. Bring the barbeque sauce.
Their little sister eats almost anything, so that's easy too. If you are dining with us, you have approximately 41 seconds to scan your menu and decide what you want because we WILL be placing our order as soon as we see our server. None of that "let me take your drink order and I'll be right back". Nope, be ready people. Ordering is easy, let's not complicate matters when they will surely complicate themselves soon enough.
What's not easy is the wait for the food.
Most of the time, I spend the first 15 minutes doing word searches and refereeing arguments about whose blue crayon it is. And speaking of crayons, they should all be triangular because I am so tired of picking them up off the floor under the table. But my kids aren't. They love to get under the table...and not come back out. And when I finally coax them out, one will inevitably bang his or her head climbing back into the seat. And then yell really loudly. Like we haven't been through this 72 times before and didn't see it coming.
Sometimes they offer to bring the kids' food out as soon as it is ready, which seems like a fabulous idea until you realize that your children, who were STARVING, have eaten 3 bites and are now "all done" and you just got your food.
Oh wait, what's that? My food just came, and it's hot, so someone has to go to the bathroom? Of course you do! Oh, and you want to go with us, because you're "all done" eating and now you're bored? Oh, and you want to go too, because the other two are going? Well, ok then..off we go. Field trip.
And have you noticed that it is impossible to be little and not touch the toilet? I mean physically impossible, because the toilet is as big as the munchkins are. And it is FUN to flush the potty, even though it is loud. So loud, in fact, that a little person must immediately cover his or her ears with the hands that were just all over the toilet.
Wash wash wash, and back to the table. On the way, at least one little one will yell across the dining room "Daddy, I pooped/peed in the potty". Some patrons will laugh, some will be horrified. It is what it is, people. Kids pee and poop a lot, and they do it in public restrooms, and they are proud.
The food is lukewarm at best, and the kids are already bored. This is when I order the scoops of ice cream or pudding. It usually comes out pretty quickly, but not quickly enough to avert at least one child dancing beside the table, one asking for my phone, and one dunking his or her hand into my drink and announcing "I want the ice".
I'm a quick eater. Always have been, and I learned to eat at warp speed having twin babies. When the third came along, I could practically inhale anything without even chewing. But my husband still tries to leisurely eat and enjoy his dinner. He even orders all you can eat dinners sometimes, like we have time for that. Just eat damnit, don't make a production of it.
The next time the server glides by, warily eyeing our table, I go ahead and ask for boxes and the check. Because at this point we need outta there, now. All three are either dancing around the table, or having a secret meeting in their clubhouse under the blasted table again. Probably trying to feed each other food off the floor, and cracking up.
We wrangle them all towards the door, and on the way we get looks which range from "awwwww" to "thanks for ruining my meal, chumps".
Load everyone up and head home. One will ask for nuggets when we pass a McDonalds.
Get home and stick leftovers in the fridge. Stand up and turn around to find a little face looking up at me. "Mommy, I'm hungry".
geesh
Ordering is easy because the twins eat macaroni and cheese and french fries or pancakes and bacon. And that's about it. Oh, and bananas. And barbeque sauce. On everything. Lack of barbeque sauce equals trauma and actual tears. Bring the barbeque sauce.
Their little sister eats almost anything, so that's easy too. If you are dining with us, you have approximately 41 seconds to scan your menu and decide what you want because we WILL be placing our order as soon as we see our server. None of that "let me take your drink order and I'll be right back". Nope, be ready people. Ordering is easy, let's not complicate matters when they will surely complicate themselves soon enough.
What's not easy is the wait for the food.
Most of the time, I spend the first 15 minutes doing word searches and refereeing arguments about whose blue crayon it is. And speaking of crayons, they should all be triangular because I am so tired of picking them up off the floor under the table. But my kids aren't. They love to get under the table...and not come back out. And when I finally coax them out, one will inevitably bang his or her head climbing back into the seat. And then yell really loudly. Like we haven't been through this 72 times before and didn't see it coming.
Sometimes they offer to bring the kids' food out as soon as it is ready, which seems like a fabulous idea until you realize that your children, who were STARVING, have eaten 3 bites and are now "all done" and you just got your food.
Oh wait, what's that? My food just came, and it's hot, so someone has to go to the bathroom? Of course you do! Oh, and you want to go with us, because you're "all done" eating and now you're bored? Oh, and you want to go too, because the other two are going? Well, ok then..off we go. Field trip.
And have you noticed that it is impossible to be little and not touch the toilet? I mean physically impossible, because the toilet is as big as the munchkins are. And it is FUN to flush the potty, even though it is loud. So loud, in fact, that a little person must immediately cover his or her ears with the hands that were just all over the toilet.
Wash wash wash, and back to the table. On the way, at least one little one will yell across the dining room "Daddy, I pooped/peed in the potty". Some patrons will laugh, some will be horrified. It is what it is, people. Kids pee and poop a lot, and they do it in public restrooms, and they are proud.
The food is lukewarm at best, and the kids are already bored. This is when I order the scoops of ice cream or pudding. It usually comes out pretty quickly, but not quickly enough to avert at least one child dancing beside the table, one asking for my phone, and one dunking his or her hand into my drink and announcing "I want the ice".
I'm a quick eater. Always have been, and I learned to eat at warp speed having twin babies. When the third came along, I could practically inhale anything without even chewing. But my husband still tries to leisurely eat and enjoy his dinner. He even orders all you can eat dinners sometimes, like we have time for that. Just eat damnit, don't make a production of it.
The next time the server glides by, warily eyeing our table, I go ahead and ask for boxes and the check. Because at this point we need outta there, now. All three are either dancing around the table, or having a secret meeting in their clubhouse under the blasted table again. Probably trying to feed each other food off the floor, and cracking up.
We wrangle them all towards the door, and on the way we get looks which range from "awwwww" to "thanks for ruining my meal, chumps".
Load everyone up and head home. One will ask for nuggets when we pass a McDonalds.
Get home and stick leftovers in the fridge. Stand up and turn around to find a little face looking up at me. "Mommy, I'm hungry".
geesh
Monday, May 14, 2012
Reasons I will never home school my Children
I have a few friends who home school. It's not a debate to me. I don't care if you choose public, private or home school, as long as it is what is best for that individual child. It is a choice for parents to make, and really no one else's business. I don't care if you breastfeed or bottlefeed, I don't care if you co-sleep or sleep-train. (Although I have kids hanging on me all day, I sure as hell don't want them in my bed all night. But that's me.) I don't care if you potty train at 18 months or 3 and 1/2. As long you are doing what is right for your babies, I think you are a good mom. But I will never home school my youngins..and here is why.
- I have been through school already. Couldn't wait to finish. Why would I want to go through it again?
- I have ADHD. No, seriously I do, and the thought of having to stay on task and keep multiple others on task while reviewing mundane things is too stressful for me. Yes, I have taught my kids to count, and their letters and phonics and colors and shapes, etc. But I mean an entire day of teaching kids about necessary things in a structured manner for 12 years..., wait, what was I talking about....? Look at that hummingbird..did you know they are carnivorous? That means they eat meat..like a T-Rex...
SEE! My children can not be expected to learn by following my stream of consciousness thought patterns...
Plus, my ADHD makes it impossible to even keep my closet organized. Forget about a year's worth of school supplies, books, movies. Right now the box that holds my kids crayons also contains hairbows, a broken pair of sunglasses and a thermometer. It's ok, there's a method to my madness and I can always find everything, but my children's education should not depend on it.
- I hate math. I really hate it and it would never work for me to teach anything other than the basics. Because I don't understand much more than the basics. Although I am very good at calculating percentages off of a price, er number. If my kids hate math, I will not be able to help them. If my kids love math, maybe they can help me.
- I need a break. I do. I love my children with every fiber of my attention deficit body, but it will be good for me, and them, when they start school. They are in a mom's morning out program now on Wednesdays, and if they are particularly cranky on a Wednesday morning I think to myself, "better someone else has to deal with this than me!" I kiss them bye and laugh all the way to the car.
- I am not qualified to make sure my children are exposed to information in all subject matters. Period.
- I am easily manipulated by my little chuckleheads. I am a softy. I hate to say no. I want them to be happy ALL THE TIME. I know kids need to be prepared for the real world, and the real world is not fair and sometimes they will be upset, sad, angry, frustrated. I am not necessarily the best person to teach them this lesson. Nope, I'd rather them come home to me and let me try to make it all better.
and lastly:
- At some point I'd like to get my hair cut again. And go to the doctor without kids. Or grocery shop without kids. Or watch trash TV for 2 hours straight on a rainy morning. Or finish a cup of coffee. HELLO...school is like a free babysitter! I am so taking advantage of that.
- I have been through school already. Couldn't wait to finish. Why would I want to go through it again?
- I have ADHD. No, seriously I do, and the thought of having to stay on task and keep multiple others on task while reviewing mundane things is too stressful for me. Yes, I have taught my kids to count, and their letters and phonics and colors and shapes, etc. But I mean an entire day of teaching kids about necessary things in a structured manner for 12 years..., wait, what was I talking about....? Look at that hummingbird..did you know they are carnivorous? That means they eat meat..like a T-Rex...
SEE! My children can not be expected to learn by following my stream of consciousness thought patterns...
Plus, my ADHD makes it impossible to even keep my closet organized. Forget about a year's worth of school supplies, books, movies. Right now the box that holds my kids crayons also contains hairbows, a broken pair of sunglasses and a thermometer. It's ok, there's a method to my madness and I can always find everything, but my children's education should not depend on it.
- I hate math. I really hate it and it would never work for me to teach anything other than the basics. Because I don't understand much more than the basics. Although I am very good at calculating percentages off of a price, er number. If my kids hate math, I will not be able to help them. If my kids love math, maybe they can help me.
- I need a break. I do. I love my children with every fiber of my attention deficit body, but it will be good for me, and them, when they start school. They are in a mom's morning out program now on Wednesdays, and if they are particularly cranky on a Wednesday morning I think to myself, "better someone else has to deal with this than me!" I kiss them bye and laugh all the way to the car.
- I am not qualified to make sure my children are exposed to information in all subject matters. Period.
- I am easily manipulated by my little chuckleheads. I am a softy. I hate to say no. I want them to be happy ALL THE TIME. I know kids need to be prepared for the real world, and the real world is not fair and sometimes they will be upset, sad, angry, frustrated. I am not necessarily the best person to teach them this lesson. Nope, I'd rather them come home to me and let me try to make it all better.
and lastly:
- At some point I'd like to get my hair cut again. And go to the doctor without kids. Or grocery shop without kids. Or watch trash TV for 2 hours straight on a rainy morning. Or finish a cup of coffee. HELLO...school is like a free babysitter! I am so taking advantage of that.
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