no more monsters

Since we came back from Thanksgiving at B.'s grandparents house, A. has been scared to go to bed.  She all of a sudden thinks there are monsters or "ghostses" that will come.  The first night, she was awake from 2:00 am to 4:00 am crying and wanting us to sleep with her.  The second night she had a hard time laying down.  I think we are rounding the corner because each night since has gotten a little bit better.  But, her conversations throughout the day have revolved around monsters.

We got out most of our Christmas decorations yesterday including a nativity that sits above my mantel.  She asked to play with it so I agreed.  She was naming all of the people and having them talk to each other.  I went in to check on her and realized what she was saying...

rule #1

There is a rule in my house... messes are ok, but you have to clean them up.  A. recites this rule on a daily basis.  She is typically loves cleaning up and actually, cleaning in general.  She mops, swiffers, puts dishes away... well, depending on the day.  On this particular day, we were putting away the fall decorations to get ready for the Christmas decorations.  She made a scarecrow with Oma around Halloween so we had a discussion that the scarecrow, Lenny, was now ready to go into the trash.  So, she set out to take out the hay and put it in a trash bag so we could save the clothes for another year.  I walked away to be with K. for a minute and this is what I came back to....

Hay all over the floor

with little tiny, tiny pieces just perfect for K. to put in his mouth.

A. was singing, "messes are ok, ok, ok, messes are ok, yes they are.  We just have to clean them, clean them, clean them, we just have to clean them, yes we do."

This was her introduction to using the dyson.  She's a pro now.

scribbling disaster

This morning, K. was sleeping so I got A. some crayons and her coloring book so that I could go take a shower.  She immediately said, "I can't do that."  A little confused, I persisted.  Again, "I can't do that."  So, I thought it was because she didn't want to stay downstairs while I was showering.  I stopped trying to convince her to do something by herself and simply asked why.  Her answer broke my heart.  To sum it up, she didn't want to color because a little boy at school told her she scribbled and didn't color.  So, I decided it was more important to color than to shower.  I tried to color sitting next to her with the idea that I would color and tell her what a great job she was doing.  Instead, she cried and cried and only wanted to color on top of the parts that I already colored.  Well, that wasn't going to solve anything so I wouldn't let her have my paper.  Apparently, I picked the wrong battle because she had a HUGE meltdown and would not touch the paper until we switched papers.  I then compromised by outlining the paper and letting her color in between.  She made the tinniest, tiniest marks in the center of the paper so that she wouldn't draw out of the lines.  Any time that poor little thing went over my lines, she had tears rolling down her face.  I was at a loss, and am still at a loss as to how to tell her that 3 year old little girls color outside of the lines.  She did finish her picture and I think it looked great.  Then we decided to draw in her scribble book, where she is supposed to scribble.  I don't know about her, but I don't feel better.  And, I want to scribble all over that little boy's face.  There you have it...

back to the beginnings

A. has been quite into weddings since we went to a wedding a few weeks ago (Congrats Kerry and Joey!!!).  Anyway, while Daddy was away golfing, A. and I watched our wedding video.  I don't know what we paid that videographer, not much since it was his first shot, but it was worth every single penny.

Here are my favorite quotes:
A- "Mommy, you are the BEST bride." 
A.- "Mommy, how did your hair get so big."
A- "Where do brides get their clothes?"
A- "When I get bigger and marry Daddy, can I wear that bride dress?"

A- "Look, Gram is there to dance with Gramps.  She's so pretty."
A- "Why was Aunt Pam crying?"

 Scene- me on the dance floor with some of the people from my church youth group.
A- "Where is daddy?"
Me- "I don't know." 
A- "Oh, probably getting a drink."

A- "When can I marry daddy?"-- I answered that I already married Daddy and that so no one else could marry him.  I told her that we promised God and all our family that we would love each other forever.  Her answer-- "Was God at your wedding?"

girls are more better

A. thinks girls are "more better" than boys, B. thinks boys are better than girls.  A. is 3, B. is 30, they argue.  A. says girls are "more better" because they can paint their nails.  B. says, they feel pressure to paint nails so boys are better.  A. says girls are more better because they have long hair.  B. says boys are better because they don't have to mess with their hair. A. says girls are more better because they get to be brides.  She followed up with, "I will be a bride when I get bigger and I can marry daddy.  I'll paint my nails and braid my hair so I can look pretty."  He said no more.

Daddy and A. at 1 day old

A. and Daddy on his birthday (7 months)

Daddy and A. at 10 months

A. and Daddy on Halloween, age 2

A. and Daddy checking out a rainbow 3 years

A. sharing her daddy with K.

always a mom

It is fair to say that once a person becomes a mother, their children are never far from their minds.  We may escape for a few hours for work or a few days for vacation, or even a few months while our children are in college, but our kids are a part of us that never goes away.  As a mom of a breast feeding infant, this goes beyond thoughts to actual physical importance.  I can not be away from K for longer than 4 hours with out pumping.  I lock myself in a room at work with a computer print out that says "busy" for 15 minute increments 2-3 times daily.  It's not uncommon for me to pull up in my parkinglot at home and remove my breast pump before going inside.  Needless to say, I am used to this after kid #2 and I've pretty much lost my modesty.  However, this week B. and I were granted a FABULOUS vacation by John Deere, one of his vendors, so we flew to Arizona for 4 days.  I,of course, had to bring my pump.  I got to the airport and expected there to be somewhere in the vast terminals for me to go to pump.  I was wrong.  The best I found was the corner of the bathroom by the changing area so I could rest my pump and plug it in to the wall.  Besides the germiness of a public bathroom, this didn't bother me.  However, the mother with her 8 year old that asked, "what is that lady doing to her boobs?", may have a different opinion of my options.  4 hours later, we were only half way into our flight.  It was time to pump... I asked the stewardess and she said, "hhhmmm, well we will figure this out."  The bathroom wasn't a very good option since the other 100ish people didn't want to hold their bladders for 20 extra minutes while I tied up the room.  And, we know they would have held their bladders longer since they would not want to be the first to enter the bathroom that was held up for 20 minutes.  So, she and another flight attendant stood with their back to me as I stood in the corner of the back of the plane.  The pump rested on the door handle which I did question a few minutes into the process since I didn't think the pump would make a really good parachute.  She reassured me that I was not falling out of the plane, I was securely stuck in the corner, kind of like time out.  I did learn a few things...
1. flight attendants get to pick their flights and most only fly a few times a week.
2. the pilot of the plane was a father but told the flight attendant that he liked flying better and "wasn't really into the whole parenting thing."  I wanted to cry for his child
3. The 2nd flight attendant blocking me, who happened to be male, had 3 children who were very colicky until they started feeding them goat's milk.  Interesting...
4. my love for my son is great, my love for breast feeding is decreasing

Gramps perspective

Having watched my two sports-minded boys grow into adulthood, and having made more than a few trips to the hospital for broken bones and an assortment of stitches, performed late night car rescues, and held bleeding toddlers over the sink so the carpet wasn’t ruined, I have the thick skin of a veteran parent.  My grandson K was only born 7 months ago and doesn’t particularly care how smart I am, so when I picked him up after his swan dive face plant into the parking lot and tried to cover my guilt with “it will be OK, you’re fine,” well, he just wasn’t buying it.

Perhaps I should explain…

It all started an hour or two before, after we had successfully gotten both A and K into their Halloween costumes and delivered them (on time no less!) to a church fall festival party and “Trunk or Treat” in the parking lot.   Trunk or Treat is when folks decorate the trunks of their cars (some very elaborately decorated BTW) and the kids go from car to car through the parking lot  collecting candy.  A was dressed in a mini-diva cute pink leopard costume and made her way through the games and fun in the church social hall under the protective eye of Granny J, while K was in an adorable monkey suit and hung out with Gramps, who were both sitting quietly and enjoying the general commotion all around us.  At the appointed time everyone poured into the parking lot and set up the displays in their trunks.   We had candy to give away to the kids and only a set of golf clubs for our trunk, so as A and Granny J went from car to car collecting candy, Gramps, no creative genius but with a monkey in hand and an open trunk, put two and two together and soon the “monkey in the trunk” became quite a popular place among the Trunk or Treat set.

Being good grandparents we took a picture of the monkey in the trunk, and then another, and as we were looking at the pictures we did not realize that K was planning his escape. But K can’t walk or even crawl, but he can move, and he can move fast. And so in an instant he pushed over the lip of the trunk and was on his way down, head first.   And as I scooped him up and checked him for serious damage with a  veteran eye,  he was quiet, and for 2-3 seconds as he gathered his wind he listened as I told him “it will be OK, you’re fine.” He didn’t buy it; he didn’t buy it  AT ALL!!  I tried to reassure K, Granny J and myself that he would be OK. Granny J would have none of it, and Googled “baby fall” when she wasn’t demanding that I dial 9-11.

The only thing worse than those next few minutes of K’s wailing (OK, half hour) were having to call K’s parents later that night and tell them. “Yeah, out of the trunk…no, no bleeding… but his face is scratched and bruised…no, he didn’t hit his head… A was great, she sang songs to him in the car because she said sometimes that helps if he’s upset.”

K about to take his nose dive

So K came through it without any lasting effects and will probably not remember a thing.   K’s  parents are turning into veteran parents.  Gramps and Granny J are rookie grandparents and will never forget.  K will be walking soon.

Granny J.'s perspective

A. on the quilt made of Gram's clothes at age 6 weeks.

Granny J. and Gramps watched A. and K. while we were gone last weekend.  Here is her perspective of the journey.  Stay tuned for Gramp's version in the next few days.  And, thanks Granny J. and Gramps.  We appreciate you soooo much!! 

A lot of people ask me what it’s like to be a grandma while skipping that whole kid-raising thing (believe it or not, that’s not unusual.  I have several friends who are in the same situation).  After the usual jokes about how easy – and unfair – it is to leapfrog right over the hard part to the fun of grandkids, it’s been more of a journey than might be imagined.

I love my grandkids and would gladly cut off my right arm to keep them from any harm.   Actually that’s a metaphor, since I’d be limbless already, but you get what I mean.  Still, when Sarah asked us to watch A and K for 24 hours while they attended a wedding last weekend, I was confounded as to what to do with them. I calculated the math, determining down to the minute when they would sleep and nap, and figuring out what to do with them in the remaining minutes.  Still, I fretted.

“What are we going to do with them for 24 hours?” I wailed to my husband Mike.  Mike and his wife Leslie (Brandon’s mother), who had raised both him and his younger brother Pat, looked at me like I had a tooth growing out of my ear. 

“I can do it myself if you don’t want to do it,” he grumbled. To be fair, I asked him in the middle of that historic fourth game of the World Series. 

I turned to my friend Holly, who is also a kid-less grandma.

“What are you going to do with them for 24 hours?” she asked me.

D-Day came.  We arrived on a Sunday, in time for Sarah and Brandon to leave at 9 a.m.   We stayed and talked until 10:30 a.m.

 

Another hour and a half less of worrying about what to do with them.

Sarah and Brandon left.  A and I decided to call my mom.  She would know what to do.

“A and I are making cookies and then we’re taking her to her church for a Halloween event,” I told my mom.  “I don’t know what to do after that.”  

I waited for my salvation.

Mom laughed.  “I wouldn’t know what else to do either.  I was never very good at that stuff.”

I was alone.

After A’s nap she decided I needed a nap.  She told me to lie on her bed and then she put a blanket over me and shut the door as she left the room.

I lay on the bed, grateful for the break (5 more minutes!) when I realized that I was covered in no ordinary blanket.  It was the blanket made from Leslie’s favorite shirts, made for the granddaughter she’d never met.

You should know that I’ve been on somewhat of a spiritual exploration, thinking about what kind of grandma I wanted to be for my grandkids, what kind of wife and stepmom, and how to contribute to the family in spite of my lack of ability or interest in the traditional expectations of a grandma.  I was also on the lookout for metaphors, symbols and instructions that, I believe, appear to help you on your journey, if you only ask for it and are open to seeing them.

I knew I was literally covered in the wisdom of someone who loved this family more than any woman ever has.  This was no coincidence, I realized.  I relaxed on the bed and let the blanket cover me, letting her wisdom and love for this family envelop and guide me.

I was not alone after all.

strengths and weaknesses

My good friend Jackie once told me that your biggest strength is also your biggest weakness.  I contemplated that for awhile and have found it true in most cases.  I think my biggest strength (disclaimer, if you have had me in a job interview or will ever have me in a job interview, you will hear this same answer) is my attention to detail.  In the workplace, I think this works wonders because I am great at program development, logistics, and even observations of my patients.  However, I often miss the big picture because I'm so focused on the details.  At home, I plan out things to do, have supplies, and even plan our grocery list based on coupons and the sale at Safeway.  However, sometimes I get bogged down in what needs to be done and don't spend enough time soaking in my kids or our family.


I'm sure that over time, the strengths and weaknesses of my children will change and evolve, but as of now, their strengths influence their weaknesses.

1. A.'s is her intensity.  She loves more intensely than most people.  I felt such pride as I watched her move my sister-in-law to tears when she left her playing to come over and sing to K. when he was fussy.  When I'm gone for a day, she will call and say, "I'm missin you" and I thouroughly believe her.  She said a prayer tonight for our friend Bennett down the street because he was sick a week ago and she was still thinking about it.  She still prays for her old teacher, Ms. Sheila, every night because she knows she had surgery on her leg 5 months ago.  However,  this intensity dominates a room... ALL THE TIME.  That pride that I felt last night then made me leave in tears because I couldn't even sit and enjoy a 5 minute conversation with the same sister in law that I hadn't seen in 2 months. All I heard was "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy" from the room upstairs where I laid A. down foolishly thinking she may fall asleep.  It had one of my closest friends say, "I don't envy you" (don't worry, I know it was said out of love.) today after A. directed the other children in the church nursery as to what they could and couldn't play with and held the toys of her choosing hostage.  This side of the intensity needs to be taught compassion and kindness and this detail oriented mama needs to learn how to instill this.

2. K.'s strength/ weakness is the exact opposite.  His is his flexibility.  Perhaps this has to be his characteristic because of his domineering sister, but he is the most chill baby ever created.  My friends often joke at family dinner if they hear a peep out of him because he is typically so laid back.  He goes with our days and revolves his sleep around as necessary.  However, this flexibility makes a schedule nonexistent.  It makes it very difficult when people watch him and want to know when to feed him and when to put him down for a nap.  Its hard to tell someone that isn't with him every day to listen for his high pitched cry to lay him down and his goat like whimper to feed him.  Perhaps the biggest issue is we don't know when he'll be tired at night and how long he will sleep. Sometimes, he is ready for bed at 6:00, sometimes 8:00.  Sometimes he sleeps all night, sometimes he is up 3 times.  It's unpredictable.

    
In addition to the 3 other confessions I've made via this blog, I have yet another confession.. I never read a single book about parenting.  I have read umpteen books on child development and behavior for my undergraduate and graduate degrees, but none on parenting.  When my children were born, I figured I would be a blend of somewhat knowing what to do, somewhat doing what my parents did, and somewhat flying by the seat of my pants.  So far, I think B. and I have been pretty successful, but I don't know how to make my detail oriented, not always seeing the big picture self support the strength side of my children all while nurturing the weaker side. So, I'm now reading 2 books simultaneously, Parenting by the Book, and Healthy Sleep, Happy Child.  I don't know if it will make a difference or magically give me the answers to promote a sleeping yet flexible child and an intensely loving yet patient child but I will try to be looking at the big picture that this is just a detail in the huge picture of their lives.