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.

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.

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.

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.

I would like to apologize to you if you’ve been patiently awaiting a blog from me.  I’ve been quite busy with the kids (which you would think would give me plenty to blog about) and work and something had to fall through the cracks.  I am hoping to post on a more regular basis but I make no promises.  While I enjoy writing and making people laugh (hopefully), my kids are my highest priority.  I do, however, love hearing from you.  Please comment and let me know that someone is reading.

Thank you,

Tammy

Last night Hubby and I took the kids to see the Easter Bunny. Jack and Jill were excited and were very cooperative in dressing nicely for the pictures they would be taking. We got to the mall and they were thrilled to see there were no other kids waiting in line to visit with the Easter bunny. They would get plenty of time to visit.

Once they sat down with E. Bunny the kids were suddenly at a loss for words. Since E. Bunny can’t speak, it was up to me to break the ice. I said, “Why don’t you tell Mr. Bunny how you’ve been?” Jill took a clue from the big whiskered one and kept her mouth shut.  Jack, on the other hand, felt a need to be truthful without sounding bad so he ventured to say, “I’ve been medium.” E. Bunny made a gesture that showed he was questioning the comment, but Jack just repeated, “I’ve been medium.” 

Hubby stepped into the act and said, “I hear that Santa and the Easter Bunny talk to each other and compare notes.” E. Bunny gave thumbs up to Hubby and so I pushed a bit and said, “Yeah, I hear they’re good friends.” This is where things get interesting. Now, I’m not trying to start any rumors, but the Easter Bunny indicated that he and Santa are doing so-so in the friend department. I had it on good authority that they were pretty close so I don’t know if they had a recent falling out or what.

Anyway, we managed to get a picture. Jill refused to show her teeth and Jack seemed determined to show every tooth in his mouth. The Easter Bunny kind of had a blank look. He must have been running over his to-do list in his mind.

Now all we have to do is find the Santa and Easter pictures from the last couple of years, trim them and dole them out to family who have been complaining about us never sending pictures. They might actually get the pictures this year.

Hubby and I decided to take the kids up to the snow for a weekend getaway. We pulled the snow gear down from the attic to see what fit whom and what needed to be replaced. Amazingly, my stuff fit, but then I didn’t try on my snow pants and, of course, my husband’s gear fit. The kids’ gear was the real question.

Jill’s boots still fit as we got them a little big last year. Her gloves were a bit snug, but would work for this one more trip. Last but not least, there’s Jack’s stuff. Poor Jack. He’s the second child so as often as possible we’ve tried to use hand-me-downs. Yes, Jill is a girl and Jack is a boy but we’ve been able to make it work much of the time. It helps that he admires his big sister and that she likes dark-colored clothing.  Don’t freak out on me here - we’re not making him wear her girly clothes, but when she was younger, you couldn’t tell if her jeans were boy’s or girl’s jeans.  (Plus, we sometimes put her in boy’s jeans anyway.) Hey, I’m not cheap; I just have better ways to use money.

So last year Jack wore a pair of magenta-colored snow boots. He couldn’t have cared less, he was just happy to play in the snow. This year he liked the blue gloves that were handed down, but was finally showing signs that he cares about what colors he’s wearing. So when I pulled out the pink boots, he laid down the law for me. ”I will NOT wear pink boots!” Now, I did feel for him. Honestly, I can’t blame him but I’m not going to pay roughly $30 for a pair of boots for one day’s wear. I told him to try the boots on which he finally agreed to, telling me how tight the boots were and that he couldn’t even get his foot in. Fine. 

We’re in California, so even though it’s our cold and rainy season and the snow is nearby, the stores are ready for us, stocked up on bathing suits. So I’m not happy about what the selection will be in trying to find boots, but I’m going to try. Darn it, my kid’s feet will stay DRY! So I was telling (or yelling, you choose) the kids to get their shoes and jackets on and Jack asked where we were going.  I told him we were going to find new snow boots for him which is when he showed me that men are born the way they are. He, like most men I know, doesn’t like to shop unless it’s for toys (and tools) so he takes the opportunity to say… “Shopping! Well maybe those pink boots aren’t as tight as I thought.” What!?! So I calmly, yes calmly, asked, “Are you telling me that you would rather wear tight pink boots than go shopping?”He looked at me as if I’d just said the dumbest thing a person can say and he replied, “Well, yeah!” (Read some attitude into the statement - think teenager attitude and you’ll have the moment nailed.)

To make an otherwise long and trying (for me that is) story short, my husband checked the boots on Jack’s feet and decided they would work for one day. We skipped the shopping, went to the snow and Jack wore his tennis shoes the whole time. His feet stayed dry, we saved the time and money that would have been spent chasing after snow boots that fit and next year we’ll either buy new boots or he’ll wear tennis shoes and we may deal with wet feet. Regardless, I now know that my son, much like his father, cares what he wears as long as he doesn’t have to shop for it.

Kids can keep you feeling young but they can also make you feel very old in an instant.  They have no sense of age or mortality coupled with a lack of a filtering system.

Yesterday was Hubby’s “23^rd anniversary of his 20^th birthday” and he was teasing my sister (who’s younger) that she is soon going to be over the hill.  Jill chimed in with, “Daddy, you’re at the top of the hill!”

Recently Jack was asked how old he is and he answered, “I’m 5, Jill’s 8 and Mom’s a googolplex!” (If you don’t know what a googolplex is, just know that it makes me the oldest person on Earth.)

Jill also has a way of reminding her grandparents of their mortality.  My mom heard Jill singing a song from the movie Nightmare Before Christmas and teasingly said, “When you have kids I’m NOT watching them!” Jill shot back, “That’s okay.  Mom will be the grandma then and you’ll be dead.”  (Note:  For those of you who just fell out of your chairs in shock, my mom laughed and told Jill she might not make it to being old enough to have kids if she keeps making remarks like that.)

Kids have a way of reminding you to enjoy the time you have, to have a sense of humor and that you too probably said something similar when you were young.

I hope you feel as young as I do right now!

 I knew I would have to deal with fashion at some point in my children’s lives, I just thought it would happen later on, like maybe when they become tweens. But that just wasn’t the case for us.

Jill showed an eye for fashion when she was just six-months old.  She would reach out for lavender-colored clothing and smile. It didn’t matter which store we were in and she didn’t reach for other colors so we thought she just liked the color.  That is, until I was flipping through a catalog one day. The catalog was full of designer outfits and Jill was sitting next to me looking as I flipped through the pages.  Suddenly she grabbed the catalog and turned back the page, smiled and started making what we called “happy noises.”  Jill not only liked fashion, but she had expensive taste to boot.  More interestingly, the outfit was not lavender.

Since then Jill has become a bit of a fashion critic and will tell me how an outfit could be improved and she likes to be creative with her own outfits.  She must pick out her own clothes and spends a bit of time each night deciding on the perfect outfit for the next day. Sometimes she will take the weather into account and sometimes the outfit is just too important for her to care about weather conditions.  For example, last Friday temperatures reached over 100 degrees in our area but Jill insisted on wearing a black and white shirt with black gaucho pants. She said she would be in a classroom most of the day and would stay in the shade on recess. Her mind was made up. (I also did not realize until we were leaving the house that this was her chosen outfit. She and her dad discussed her choice and she won.)

Jack is also somewhat fashion conscious but in a different way. He will wear the same clothes for three days if you let him. His idea of changing outfits is running into his room and turning his shirt inside out and/or backwards and turning his pants inside out.  When you say, ”I just told you to go change your clothes.” He will answer “I did!” He will also argue that his clothes are still clean and that he likes them.  Jack doesn’t care if there are holes in the pants, stains on his shirt or even if they are too short.  All he cares about is that he is comfortable.

As you can see I deal with both ends of the fashion spectrum on a daily basis. If it’s like this now I can’t bear to think of what it will be like when they’re teenagers.

When faced with leaving the house, kids MUST bring something.  They like to have something to amuse them or comfort them or show off and it doesn’t matter whether you’re going one mile or one hundred, they just can’t leave with empty hands. 

No matter how much warning we give Jack that we are leaving, there is almost always a frantic search for what to bring.  He may already have packed something to take but he just wants to make sure he has the right thing even though “the right thing” is whatever catches his eye at the last moment.

Yesterday we were taking Jack and Jill to grandma’s house for a bit.  Grandma lives one mile from us and has lots of toys, but still the packing and search had to happen.  Jack decided to bring two of his stuffed animals but couldn’t find one at the last minute.  Hubby was trying to get us all out of the house and said, “Don’t worry about it.  Find something else.”  Jack ran off and came back with his pillow.  Hubby didn’t realize what was happening and asked me if the kids were spending the night and why Jack had his pillow.  I said, “I guess it’s his pet pillow.”  Jack had clearly been worried before I made the comment as he thought his dad was going to make him leave the house empty handed.  The idea of a pet pillow was amazing to Jack.  He grinned and announced, “I have to show grandma my pet pillow.  He’s my new friend!”

Now, however, Jack has taken to carrying this pillow with him, had to have the pillow nearby when he was bathing and even tried to put a pair of underwear on the pillow.  Apparently the two have bonded and I’m sure I’ll be inviting Pillow to join us for dinner soon.