Musings of a Mom

Doctors and health practitioners lie.  In my case I’m not sure why they’re lying because they would get far more money out of me if they didn’t lie but it’s a continual problem.  Worse yet, it’s not just one person but all of them which tells me it’s a conspiracy.

You may be wondering what the doctors are lying about or if the doctors are lying to you too.  These doctors keep telling me that my children’s vision and hearing are fine.  No, they are not.  Come spend one hour with my kids and you will know that is not the truth.  I refuse to believe that the kids’ hearing is fine when I have to repeat everything I say multiple times and then when I finally explode or dole out punishments Jack and Jill look at me with complete surprise as if they’re hearing me for the first time.  Hubby seems to be losing his hearing too but his is more intermittent.

As for their vision, how can they possibly not see the dirty clothes strewn around their bedrooms?  How can they step over the pair of shoes that we’ve just spent ten minutes looking for?  Although, they sometimes have an incredible ability to see the very thing I am trying to hide.  Maybe it’s a matter of being nearsighted or farsighted.  Still, the doctors say my kids’ vision is 20/20.  I wonder if I put a candy or a treat on each item on the floor if the kids will finally notice the item or if they will only see the treat.

I’ve come to notice that other parents are having similar experiences so my conspiracy theory seems to be a larger problem than I had originally thought.  I wonder if this is all happening in order to drive parents crazy so that they will spend more money on psychiatric care.  Hmm, it’s a thought.

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Historians talk of time in terms of B.C. and A.D.  I talk of time in terms of B.K. and A.K., that is, Before Kids and After Kids.

B.K. Hubby and I went on frequent weekend getaways.

A.K.  Our weekend getaways revolve around the kids’ activities

 

B.K. My car was clean and free of wrappers and broken pretzels.

A.K.  I drive a mini-van.  Enough said.

 

B.K.  When Hubby and I decorated the house we didn’t think about how well the furniture would withstand kids.

A.K. My backyard is a playground.

 

B.K.  I read books with more depth than Harry Potter (although I do admit to being a fan now)

A.K.  I sometimes sound like Dr. Seuss, or a goose!

 

B.K. I swore I would never say things like “Because I said so!”

A.K.  I sometimes say things like, “Because I said so!”

 

B.K.  I enjoyed life.

A.K.  I wouldn’t go back to my B.K. life for anything after having experienced life A.K.

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I’ve always been a planner to some extent. As a little girl I planned my wedding and as a teenager I planned for college. But I was also spontaneous. Even as an adult I loved to go do some last-minute fun thing whenever invited. Becoming a mother changed all of that.

It was a slow process really. Evenings out sometimes had to be planned in order to have a babysitter.  Vacations needed more planning due to the amount of luggage involved and travel revolved around feeding or nap times. Then I started adding play dates and activities to the schedule. Once Jill started kindergarten I was primed for full planning mode.

I was working and volunteering at the school. Jack was a couple of years old at the time so I had his nap times to keep in mind. Just as I had a balance Jill started trying sports and extra-curricular activities.  Prior to the kids starting school I remember saying that I would NOT be an over scheduler. It’s just not good for the kids I said. Well, never say never.

At first Jill was resistant to trying any activity but once I got her to try one she became a try-it-out monster. She LOVES to try new things and I hate to hold her back. She doesn’t stick with everything but the problem is she DOES want to stick with many of the things she tries. She loves to be active. Jack, on the other hand, is agreeable to trying new things but pretty quickly decides he’d rather be at home. He couldn’t possibly wait until the end of the class session or sports season. No, he decides right after it’s too late to get our money back which means Hubby and I drag him to class talking about finishing the commitments we make. Now, it’s not as bad as it sounds. He has a great time when he’s at the class/sport and talks about how much fun he had afterwards but it’s the whole idea of leaving his toys that bothers him. Regardless, Hubby and I want him to get out and run, play, be active for a bit while he’d prefer to sit and play with his LEGO’s for hours on end.

So now my life consists of work, volunteering, running the kids from place to place and working with schedules. Everything is planned. Did I say everything? I meant EVERYTHING! A friend was recently teasing me about the fact that I’m such a planner and I was trying to explain to him that as a mom there’s just no other way. While there’s some flexibility, I can look at my schedule for, say, May 16, 2011, and have a pretty good idea of where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing. Spontaneity is a baseball game getting cancelled. It may not be glamorous, but I’ll take it.

The most intriguing part of becoming a planner is that I do more fun things now and see my friends more often than back in my “carefree” days. Go figure.

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Jack and Jill are school age and I tend to spend a lot of time volunteering at their school. Last year I volunteered even more than my usual and found that by the time March rolled around I was already looking forward to the start of summer and some “down time.” For some crazy reason I was having delusions of the kids playing happily together and the whole family enjoying the summer break. Hubby thought I had lost my mind but I assured him that all was well.

Then the last day of school arrived.

Being a wise mother, back in the spring I had registered the kids for swim lessons and other activities which, of course, started on the last day of school and ran daily for three weeks. The kids had a great time while I taxied them from one place to the next trying to be on time and make sure they were fed and nothing was forgotten. I wasn’t always successful but it all worked out. Thank goodness I have a habit of keeping towels in the car.

In addition to the kids’ activities, I had agreed to start and oversee a new program at their school so I was very busy trying to take care of a vast amount of details. Luckily some of the people I needed to work with had swim team practice at the same pool as our lessons. A little multi-tasking never hurts, right?

Once July started we were home quite a bit yet somehow we were still busy. While I worked and tried to relax, the kids found their new favorite pastime. Bickering.  Constantly. They would play together and after a short period they would start to argue. Sometimes they disagreed over the fact that they had agreed on something. Other times they would be in separate rooms yet still find a way to argue. My tolerance level was diminishing. I told myself, “we have only a few more weeks of summer left. Enjoy them.”

August came and I had to start putting more time in on the new program before the beginning of the new school year. The fact that I was a bit busier seemed to tell the kids, “Fight. Fight more often and much louder. Make it count.” I started counting down the days until school started. Hubby just sighed knowing that he’d predicted this scenario but he’s much too smart to say, “I told you so.”

Now school has started and the kids are back to getting along fairly well. I should say that they get along, they just won’t admit it. I’m really busy with work and volunteer duties and I’m looking forward to the next holiday break.

Hubby thinks I’m nuts.

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I’m a talker. I can’t help it. Not only is it my personality to socialize, but I work from home so when I’m around people, well, that’s my chance to communicate. I’m also someone who volunteers quite a bit at my kids’ school so there’s lots to take care of and lots of communication happening.

Typical of the male species, my son hates waiting while I talk. It’s not so bad if there’s another kid around to pass the time with but otherwise he feels he’s got important stuff to do too. After all, he’s got Legos at home just waiting to be played with.

This morning I was speaking with a couple of parents regarding a fundraising meeting and Jack kept poking me. He whined and complained and poked. I told him to be patient but the poking continued. Once we were finished and walking to the car I told Jack that what I was doing was important and was for him and Jill as well as other kids. I also told him that it was rude to keep poking me. He replied, “Well, I was trying to find the off button but you don’t have one!” Yep, kid, you’re right on that one.

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I’m part Irish and I like St. Patrick’s Day. I’m not one for corned beef or lots of drinking as some people like to celebrate. I prefer the more child-like festivities. 

Donning their green clothing, Jack and Jill went to school this morning with high hopes for the day. They looked forward to the festivities at school. The day did not pan out quite as they expected though. For Jill the disappointment came in finding out that the fourth graders are “mature” enough not to have any celebrations. For Jack, well, it was one disappointment after another.

 First, Jack’s class made leprechaun traps and waited, not so patiently, for leprechauns to show up. Jack took it personally when none volunteered to be trapped in a cage. Try as I might, there is no explaining to a six year old that no leprechaun in his right mind would want to be trapped. 

Next, as Jack tells it, “Some teacher or other person came in the room and threw glitter on us!” I can imagine that the girls in class loved being doused in gold flakes but Jack was not amused. Jack is prone to eyelashes, hair, dust particles and whatever else getting in his eyes, and so, eventually, did the glitter.

Finally, Jack realized that leprechauns are mischievous and like to hide things so he is sure that they have hidden his Nintendo Ds, the case and even his Leapster.  There is absolutely no room in his mind for the possibility that these items wouldn’t be missing if he had put them where they belong when he was done playing with them. No, it’s those pesky leprechauns. What’s worse to him is that they won’t come out and confess after he’s threatened to squish them. How dare they!?!

So Jack has declared “St. Patrick’s Day is the worst holiday ever!” Ahh, wait until I tell him that April Fool’s Day is right around the corner.

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Jack came home from school in a foul mood. He was upset because his friends wouldn’t stop playing tag long enough to listen to what Jack wanted to tell them. He pouted telling me that his best friend was the worst of the group.Since the life span of drama in a six-year-old boy’s school life is about two minutes (unlike for girls) I decided to smooth over the situation (especially since he and his best friend were scheduled to have a play date the next day) but our conversation moved in a direction I hadn’t seen coming.

            Me:  You’re still friends, right?

            Jack:  Yeah.

            M: Because you can be mad at someone and still be friends.

            J:  I know.

            M:  Just like when you get mad at Jill but she’s still your sister.

            J:  Yeah, but I want to sell her.

            M:  You want to sell Jill?

            J:  Yeah, for $100.

            M:  Oh, you could get much more than that for her.

            J:  Like $10,800?

           M:  Maybe, but you’d have to really make her sound good to get someone to pay    that much and I’m not sure if you can do that.

            J:  I can try!

Luckily, Jack doesn’t know how to use eBay or craigslist because if he did, he might actually try to list his sister for sale. In the meantime, I keep picturing him in the front yard with a lemonade stand that says, “Sister for Sale, $10,800. Inquire within.” Good thing for Jill that her brother doesn’t have the final say in the matter.

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I’m a fairly intelligent person (at least that’s what I tell myself) but the older Jack gets, the more I question my intelligence.

Communicating with my children was relatively easy when they were babies. I talked, they babbled and cooed. They cried and, depending on the sound of their cries, I fed, diapered, burped or soothed them. Jill had a toy that said the words: mommy, daddy, bottle, doggie and baby. “Baby” could be changed to say whatever we wanted and so we recorded “Jill.” Before Jill could speak she used the toy to communicate with us. She would press the buttons to say, “Mommy, Jill, milk.” She’s a pretty smart kid as far as we’re concerned.

As Jill grew, her interests and her vocabulary expanded. Holding conversations with her is generally easy. Once in a while she thinks she’s given you all of the information you need to answer a question and she gets frustrated when you don’t understand what she’s asking. Suddenly she’ll say something like, “Remember the other day? What color was that?” Somehow we’re supposed to know what “that” is because she’s explained it fully in her mind. Even with these confusing conversations, I still usually understand what language she’s speaking. When she was little I understood Polly doll. I knew who Ariel and Aurora were. Hey, I even knew who that Dora chick was. I still understand Jill, but then she hasn’t hit her teen years yet.

Jack is another story though. I am a woman. I was a little girl. While I had a tomboy side, I was never a boy. Therefore, I have had to employ my best acting skills to look like I understand when Jack talks. Our family only speaks English so imagine my surprise when my son started saying things like, “Mom, who do you like better, Makuta or Mata Nui?” (I have since learned that those are names of Bionicles which are Legos. I liked Legos as a kid but they were blocks then and didn’t have storylines and a language to learn!) Or “Guess which Star Wars guy this is?” Umm, Princess Leia? Darth Vader? Yes, I’ve watched the movies, but I haven’t earned my master’s degree in Star Wars and you try to identify a little Lego Star Wars guy!

I guess I should have expected this. When Jack was just a little guy he asked, “What’s your favorite dinosaur?” I answered, “I like the big one with the really long neck.” Jack asked, “Which one, the Brachiosaur or the Diplodocus?”

I’m learning but you can see by the look in Jack’s eyes that it takes a great deal of patience to explain things in terms I can understand. Luckily I’m a quick learner but it does make me wonder what subjects we’ll be covering in the future.

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Hubby has always given me great gifts.  I’m not bragging, just giving him credit for a job well done.  I also don’t mean that they are necessarily expensive, just incredibly thoughtful.  He’s good at paying attention when I say, “I want to…” and he keeps a mental list of the things I like.  It’s not difficult to do because I have a habit of saying, “Ooh, I’d love to…” or “Oh, my gosh! I wish…”  Over the years Hubby has taken me to see Baryshnikov dance (long after I thought he’d hung up his dancing shoes), rented suped up muscle cars for his motor head wife (yep, that’s me), and scored tickets to a Sharks (hockey) playoff game even though he wasn’t yet a fan (he was converted after that game).

Hubby is the artistic person in the family so Halloween costumes fall to him to create.  If the task were left to me the kids would have store-bought costumes, which means they wouldn’t be EXACTLY what they want, or they would be amoebas.  I don’t think my kids would actually choose to be an amoeba (or maybe they would) it’s just that something wrong happens when I try to create something with my hands.  I guess my hands and my brain don’t communicate well because no matter what image I have in my mind, my creation always ends up looking like a blob.  Needless to say, the kids have figured out that their dad is the person to consult.

October is also the beginning of hockey season, so while Hubby has been making costumes, the kids and I have been watching the games on TV. So one night I got up to take care of a few things while commercials were on and Jack came running in yelling that if I went online to a local hockey store’s website I could get everything I needed to look like a hockey player for Halloween. I thought he was buying into a commercial, but I later found out it was all Jack’s idea. He was so insistent that I check out the site immediately that I decided to entertain his idea. Now, let me be clear here, I had no intention of dressing up for Halloween or of buying anything.  However, the jersey I had been eyeing happened to be on sale. It also happens that the next night we were going to be in the area of the store anyway so I thought maybe I would go to find out what size jersey I wanted just in case I decided to buy one sometime.

Throughout that night and the next day Jack worked on me to dress up for Halloween.  “But, Mom, it would be AWESOME if you dressed up for Halloween!” He was so excited by the idea, how cold I disappoint him? So we went to the store, I tried on jerseys and then agonized over whether or not to spend the money. Those jerseys are not cheap. Hubby put in his two cents saying, “Well, which will enrich your life more, the jersey or the money?” I finally gave in to Jacks wishes and my desire to show my team loyalty. I was handing the clerk my money when Hubby stepped in, handed over his credit card and said, “The kids and I were going to get this for you for Christmas so I guess I’ll pay for it now.” Oh, how bad I felt. I hadn’t thought about Christmas. Hubby just laughed and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be taking it from you on Christmas Eve to wrap. Remember to act surprised.”

I have to admit that I didn’t feel bad for long about ruining their surprise. After all, Hubby knew Jack had been working me to dress up for Halloween. Hubby’s a smart guy; he should have manipulated the situation by making other costume suggestions. Isn’t manipulating your children a natural part of parenting? I think Hubby secretly wanted to make a mock hockey stick and add more to his already full costume agenda. In the meantime, Happy Halloween and Merry Christmas to me!

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When we first became parents, Hubby and I tried to be organized with the items that Jill needed whenever we were out of the house. We kept the diaper bag stocked and kept a backup bag in our car. As our kids have grown we have found ourselves giving them more responsibility for making sure they take their belongings with them whenever we leave the house.

We seem to have fallen into a routine that may sound familiar to at least some of you.  About a half an hour before we leave I say, “Kids, put your socks and shoes on, go to the bathroom and get your things together.” They hear, “Kids, keep playing and completely ignore me.” Fifteen minutes before we leave I yell, “Are your socks and shoes on?”  To which they reply, “Why, are we going somewhere?” At the time set for leaving our house, I walk to the door and listen to the kids yell, “Wait, I need to find something to take with me!” or “Don’t leave yet!  I need to put my shoes on!” No matter what I do, this is the pattern.

Hubby and the kids take martial arts classes and the pattern usually only differs in the items they take and that they have a uniform to put on. The other night Hubby came home and got dressed for class. The kids were at the fifteen-minute point so they made the mad-dash uniform change and when all was said and done we raced out the door for a quick dinner and then off to class. Imagine the laughs that ensued when the kids discovered that in Hubby’s hurry to get out of the house he put his pants on backwards and left his jacket at home! (Yes, yes, gi for those of you martial artists out there.)

With all of my planning and organizing it seems as parents we forget things too. Yes, I have to admit I’ve left things behind too. Parenting takes patience. Oh, and lots of to-do and to-bring lists too!

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