Do Over

I pride myself on being a good listener, and paying close attention to subtle hints about gifts people might want.  But I have decided that I might just be the world's worst gift GIVER.  My intentions are always great, and I know that it's the thought that counts, but for the last couple of years I just can't catch a break on Father's Day.

When we were finishing our basement, Jason kept talking about how it would be nice to have a nail gun.  So, Father's Day rolls around, and even though we had finished the basement I thought I would get him one because he loves to build things and would use it eventually.  So I truck my little female self to Sears and am quite proud of myself for picking out a really nice nail gun that wasn't cheap, but didn't break the bank either.  I was so excited to give it to him.  He opened it and said, "Wow, this would have been nice to have when we were putting up the baseboards in the basement."  I'm just grinning like a Cheshire cat by this time because I think I've done good, right?  And then the other shoe drops, "But, honey, I can't really use this for much now."  So, I go into my little speech about how I know he just loves building things and now he has a nail gun to do it.  Uh, wrong.  The nail gun I bought him was for finishing nails, not for actually building things.  AND it had to run off of an air compressor...something we didn't even own.  Strike #1.

Last year I got it into my head that I was going to buy Jason a canoe for Father's Day.  He always talked about what fun he had canoeing as a small boy, and we enjoyed it together as a young married couple.  So, I went canoe shopping.  I found one I liked that was a lot more money than I had anticipated spending, but hey, he's worth it right?  I had the men at the sporting goods place load it into the pickup for me, drove ever so carefully across town with it, pulled into my driveway and thought, crap, how am I going to unload this thing?  And where do you hide a 10 foot canoe??  So, a neighbor girl helped me unload it and we slid it underneath the deck at the back of our house.  But the stupid thing stuck out a little bit and I just prayed that Jason wouldn't see it before that Sunday.  Of course he did, but he's such a good sport that he didn't say anything.  So now it's Father's Day and the kids and I are so excited to give him his present and spend the day canoeing with him.  We lead him out the back and yell "Surprise!" and he acted like he was surprised.  And then he WAS surprised because the stupid canoe was only rated to seat 3 people....and there are 4 of us.  Strike #2.

This year I had it all figured out.  This year was going to be the year that I get him an awesome gift that he loves and uses all the time.

Our kids started playing Tball this year.  What a hilarious sport that is!  But, they are learning and getting better all the time.  Jason mentioned one day that he would like to have a new baseball mitt, as his is old and not real leather and falling apart.  AHA!  The perfect Father's Day gift.  And one that I actually know something about, being a former All Star fast pitch softball player myself.  So, while I was shopping in Omaha with a good friend, we went into a sporting goods store and with the help of the baseball "guru" there, I picked out a beauty of a glove.  And once again, the kids and I were so excited for him to open it.  He opened it today, and actually LOVED it!  Yes!  I'd finally done it!  I had finally gotten him a gift that he loved and could actually use ON Father's Day!  <sigh>  Not quite.

It has about a 1 and 1/2 inch CUT on the outside of the mitt where the thumb goes.  I bought it right off the rack, and neither the salesman nor I saw it.  And once I got home I stashed it away in the top of our closet.  Crap.  Not to mention it's TOO SMALL!  So frustrating.  So now we have to go back to Omaha to return it, as we don't have that kind of store here.  So much for him using it ON Father's Day to play baseball with his kids.

Next year I'm going to give him a card that reads: Happy Father's Day!  Go buy your own darn gift.  Much love....

Reality TV

There are days when I think that my life could be summed up by a 1/2 hour television sitcom (think more like Everybody Loves Raymond than the Brady Bunch).  But then there are other days when I think that my life could make a pretty interesting drama series; although I'm not sure I have the on-the-spot quirkiness to make it work like the mother-daughter relationships present in the Gilmore Girls, and my show would be lacking too much serious medical knowledge to make a show like ER work ("Pass me that Hello Kitty band-aide STAT!").  So, I have decided that what the world needs is a reality show based on my life.  I mean, c'mon, we have a reality show that follows the lives of Mob Wives, one that follows around spoiled rich women, and ones that document the lives and trials of teenagers who get pregnant.  My life is seriously funnier, more dramatic, and more REAL than any of the shows out there right now!  (I'd like to see the percentage of marriages that have lasted at least 10 years since the Bachelor/Bachelorette has been finding "love" for people!)

Here's what I envision my show would look like if cameras had been following me around during a typical summer week, and looped it all together into a one hour show:

• The show opens with one or the other of my children coming into my room at O-dark-thirty, standing by my bed until either a)I gasp in fright upon realizing that someone is breathing mere inches from my face, or 2) said child smacks me in the face and says, "Mom, are you awake."  At which point I look at the clock, groan, lay back down and say, "No....go watch tv."
• The camera would then follow my children around as they watch tv,get themselves breakfast, make their mom coffee, and do an art project that involves lots of glue and many different bottles of glitter that they found on the top of the fridge, hidden clear in the back, behind the Easter candy.
• I finally emerge from my room looking like something out of a horror movie, and finding the mess the children have left for me in the kitchen, I groan, poor myself a cup of coffee (thanking God that my 6 year old knows how to make it), grab the newspaper off the porch, and sit down to fully wake up.
• By now it is about 7:30.

The rest of the hour would be spent following me and the kids around as we clean, play,clean, play, clean, have lunch, clean some more, run errands, play and clean.  My show would offer practical parenting tips for dealing with breakdowns in the grocery store  (using effective time-outs in the frozen foods section - effective meaning that the child was only asked once if he was lost because his mother was hiding in the next aisle pretending not to know him), siblings smacking each other in the car (I have perfected the Doug Vallis Reach Around Smack that still makes my knee caps hurt to this day!), as well as what to do when your child makes embarrassing exclamations in church ("Mom, did you know that you have BOOBS!?).

My show would also deal with the drama that happens in the lives of "real" people.  Like explaining to your young child what happens when you die, or what heaven is like, or why a 1st grader in their school died even though he's not old like her great grandpa was when he died.  Or that their 30 year old uncle has cancer and what that means for him and for the rest of our family.

The hour-long episode would always end on a happy note with my husband, their father, walking in the door after his long day at work and our kids running to be the first one to hug him.  Then the camera would catch a glimpse of our children's disgusted faces as their mom and dad kiss and hold onto each other.  But deep down in our kids' hearts we know that they are happy knowing that despite all the daily pressures and family heartaches, that we are a family who loves each other and who will stick by each other day in, and day out.  Despite the fact that just minutes earlier one of them was mad at me for not letting them have a snack before supper and told me that they were going to trade me in for a new mom. :)

A Picture in Time

The afternoon sun was filtering in through the living room window.  I was gazing through it at a lovely scene: my adorable husband mowing the lawn while my darling daughter played on the swingset, and my rough and tumble son played frizbee with Sadie, our golden retriever.  <Insert contented sigh>  "I love my life." I thought.  And then, in a split second, it was gone.

Lauren yelled at Braden for getting in her way, Braden got hurt trying to hurt his sister, and Jason had to stop mowing to stomp over and yell at the kids to play nicely.

And still I sat...gazing out at the scene, this time thinking: "Well....it was nice while it lasted!" <Insert not-so-contented sigh>

Does This Make Me a Bad Mom?

Have you ever had someone, anyone, give your child something for his/her birthday/Christmas that you just despised?  We're talking, a drum set to the child of a migraine-sufferer.  An easy-bake oven to the child whose mom has a kitchen because it came with the house.  Or an arts and crafts set to the child who lives in a house that doesn't look lived in.

This year in November, my oldest child turned 6.  This was the first year that we invited any friends from school to her birthday party.  I hesitated to invite her school friends.  Not because I don't like them, they are wonderful, but because Lauren goes to the school in which I teach...which is a school that is considered to be in a rough part of town and houses a lot of children whose families can barely afford to put food on the table.  I felt very uncomfortable with the fact that her school friends were going to feel obligated to buy her a gift for her birthday, because, well, that's what you do!  You go to someone's birthday party, you buy them a gift! 

I was very relieved when she started opening her presents to find that the gifts they had gotten her were small, but very thoughtful.  And Lauren was very gracious, remembering to thank everyone and oohing and ahhing over each present.  Then she opened her last gift, which looked harmless enough in a small, brown, gift bag from the sweetest girl in Lauren's class.  As I handed Lauren the gift, I could already smell it: perfume.  Oh the horror!  And worse yet...Lauren LOVED IT!  She immediately wanted to try it out, but I convinced her to wait until we got home, which I thought she'd forget about.  Nope.

The minute we got home, she sprayed some on and I immediately ran for cover.  I couldn't get away from it!  It was in my eyes, in my hair, on my clothes!  And she had only sprayed a tiny, tiny bit on herself because I had cautioned her that it would be strong.  To her dismay I made her go shower to get it off, and to my dismay the shower barely helped.

Which brings me to today.  Since the very first time Lauren tried out her perfume, the bottle has been hidden up high in our bathroom cupboard.  I didn't feel right throwing it away, but my health just couldn't take her actually using it!  Well, today she found it.  I swear to you that I could smell it the minute she sprayed it on...and I was clear out in the kitchen!  Once she and her brother went downstairs to play, I raced to my bathroom, grabbed the bottle of perfume and proceeded to try to pry it open.  My plan was to dump the perfume down the drain and fill the bottle back up with water.  Low, I know, but hey at least she'd still have the bottle!  Well, unfortunately for me, the "lid" thingy is crimped onto the neck of the bottle.  I tried everything to get it off, even using a can opener!  My next thought was to go outside and just keep spraying it until it was all gone. . .but after realizing just how long that would take me, I gave up and stuck the bottle on top of the refrigerator.

Now what?  My sinuses just can't take having this stuff in the house, but my conscience won't let me throw it away.  One thing's for sure. . .Lauren is not going to be allowed to eat supper in the same room as me until she showers with lye soap and a scrub brush!

Does that make me a bad mom? ;)

Sibling Rivalry

I have been told by several people that I should write a book about parenting.  Although some parents may find my insights amusing, I doubt very much that I could give practical advice. After all,  I'm just making this stuff up as I go!  Take what happened today for instance:

We had just gotten home from work/school/babysitter and the kids were at it again...fighting.  Ugh, the fighting!  I've tried reasoning with them: "You guys haven't seen each other all day!  Play nicely!"  I've tried guilting them: "Lauren, he is the ONLY brother you have...be nice to him."  I've tried threats: "If I hear you guys fighting one more time...!"  I've even tried making them "hug it out."  Nothing seems to really work.  So, I've invented a method for dealing with sibling rivalry that I'm sure most psychologists would have a hayday with.

Turn up the music and dance.

And that's what I do.  I walk straight to my kitchen where the radio is, crank that sucker up, and bust a move.  No kidding.  It works wonders!  I'm sure you're thinking, "I'd have to see it to believe it."  Right?  Well, forget it.  I only dance in three instances: 1)with my Kindergarten class, 2)with my own children in the privacy of my own home, 3)in public after a really good night with really good friends.

So what is the reaction that I get when I do this?  Well, usually Braden wanders in and starts jammin' with me.  Lauren is usually mad at me that I have stolen her sparring partner and pouts until the end of the song.  Then, she and Braden go off and play together.  NO LIE.  This just happened in our house, and right now both kids are in my basement playing house, walking around in my shoes. :)  Oh the irony.

Let All the Little Children Come to Me

Okay, first of all, I am NOT comparing myself to Jesus Christ.  He is without sin, and I have done plenty of it!  He also performed a bunch of miracles, and most days it's a miracle if I'm on time to work!  But, this phrase has become a metaphor for every family outing that we take.  Here's just a taste of the magnetism that I have that seems to attract other people's kids.

I took my two kids to Play All Day on Sunday.  (If you've never been there, it is a must!  They have three big bounce houses and a ton of other imaginative play options for the kids to make a mess of.  They play, mess up the place, and you take them home exhausted and happy.  Check it out! http://www.playsiouxland.com )

Play All Day has a bunch of comfy couches and chairs for the adults to sit on and even has free Internet access.  So, I brought my computer and messed around on the Internet for a bit while the kids had fun going from bounce house to bounce house.  When they tired of that, they came to find me and wanted to play some other things.  Lauren went off to play with some girls she'd found, but Braden wanted help setting up and playing the bean bag toss game.  So, I put away my computer and sat on the floor with Braden to play the game.  No sooner did we have it set up, when another child wanted to join us.  Sure!  The more the merrier right?  Then another one, and another one, and still another one came over to join us.  So they were all playing with me being the bean bag retriever and re-setter-upper of the little animals they were tossing at.  I should mention, I was the only parent in this area and no, I do not work there part time.

Braden got tired of that, so we left the other kids to continue playing.  Then we set up the little bowling pins and started bowling.  Same kids came over to play, plus a couple more.  Same scenario, no other parents offering to help re-setup the pins, or to supervise the arguments that always take place when more than one child is playing a game.  By this time Braden was tired of being followed around, and so was I, so he set off to go play in the bounce houses some more and I went to find Lauren.

She was making a get well card for her great grandpa Livgren and was wanting help with it.  Soon, the other little girl at the art center was ALSO asking me for help with HER project!  By this time I'm wondering if I'm giving off some sort of pheromone that only kids are attracted to.  (Well, kids and stray dogs...I'm a sucker for both!)  So, I helped both girls with their work and then finally went to sit down again in my comfy chair.  But alas, Lauren and Braden both found me and wanted me to play house with them.  So off we go.  Along with about 10 followers.  So, we all played house with everyone else's children who were there serving me plate after plate of pretend food, etc.

I have no problem including other people's children in my play time with my own children.  The problem I have is when it is obvious that none of these other parents have any interest whatsoever of engaging their own children in play, or at least checking with me that it's ok for them to play with us!  If you don't enjoy spending time with your children, then why the heck did you have them anyway!?  Do I just LOVE playing pretend?  Nope...I actually despise it....like tremendously.  Do I LOVE being the gopher and running after bean bags and stray bowling balls?  No...but I do it because it brings a smile to my child's face.

My challenge to all of you parents out there is this:  The next time you take your kids to a place where they have the freedom to fun free and play, and you have the opportunity to just sit back and watch, (or text, or chat on the phone, or check your email) DON'T!  Get up off your butt, turn off your phone, and PLAY WITH YOUR KIDS!  And give the moms like me a stinkin' break!

Choices

As parents we try to raise our children to make good choices in their lives.  When they are young we let them choose between silly things to give them a sense of having some control over their lives.  For example, "Do you want to wear the red shirt, or the blue shirt?"  "Would you like to brush your teeth first or read stories first?"  As they get a bit older, we let them make a few more choices, such as what clothes they want to wear to school.  Their choices sometimes embarrass us, like when Lauren decides to wear a red and white striped shirt that's too small for her, purple sweatpants, green socks, and her pink and white shoes. . .but we smile, tell her she looks awesome, and away to school we go.  Hey, she's dressed and I'm on time for work...it doesn't get much better than that!

But there are just some choices that we can't afford to let them make....that's why we are the parents and they are the children.  We know what's best for them, and until they are old enough to make good choices on their own, it's up to us to do it for them.  If I allowed my children to decide what they ate for every meal, they would weigh 100 pounds and their teeth would be falling out of their heads....hmm...well, at a faster rate than is normal for 6 year olds anyway.  They would sit in front of the TV when it is beautiful out and their bikes would look like they've never been ridden.  They would never bathe and would be known as the stinky kids on our block.  Braden would never enroll in school and would reek havoc on this world moreso than he is going to just because he is Braden.

I am a teacher in a very successful Dual Language Program.  Our students are learning to read, write, and speak in English and in Spanish starting at the very early age of 5.  I am very proud to be a part of this program, and prouder still to be a parent of a student in this program.  I did not give Lauren a choice of which preschools to attend, which elementary school she would attend, or whether or not to take part in the Dual Language Program.  As her mother, and now her teacher, I know that the choices I have made for her will give her a better chance to make something great of her life. Which is why my jaw dropped yesterday when speaking with another parent about my program during our kindergarten registration.

I had explained to her what the program's goals are, how her daughter's day would be spent, and how much success we have had.  She then turns to her 5 year old and says, "What do you think honey, do you want to learn Spanish?"  To which the little "angel" replies, no, with a shake of her head.  So her mom says, "Well, she's very opinionated, so if she doesn't want to, I think we'll pass."  Uhhhh....seriously?  Like....really?  I mean...you're kidding right?  You are going to let a FIVE YEAR OLD make THAT kind of a decision?  Wow.  I must be behind the times.  I guess I should give in to my 4 year old, withdraw him from preschool for next year, and let Lauren chew gum every minute of every day.