On Easter, my daughter hit the mother load. She won the money egg at the Easter egg hunt with $20 in it. In an effort to have her not turn around and spend the money at Justice the next day, I foolishly suggested that she start a bank account.
Ever since that day she has been hounding me mercilessly to take her to the bank to start her account. This is why I banking is not my favorite thing, we always have to go as a party of four. There is a bank teller that our family LOVES. She is a grandmother and she treats my children as if they were her own grandchildren. Meaning, she gives them each three suckers, cookies, and any other candy contriband she may have behind her desk. This means that the visit will begin well, but if we need to be there for more than five minutes the kids will begin running and will not stop just because they hit a wall, they will simply change direction.
So one afternoon, I was feeling like I needed to be punished, so I dug up their social security numbers and took the whole gang to the bank. They ran up to their favorite tellers window and she loaded them up with goodies. Then I found out I had to wait to see the woman that could help me open the account. This gave them plenty of time to not only finish their suckers, but for the teller to notice and give them more. I could feel the tension building inside my body.
Finally! It was our turn. The kids instantly take a seat and begin to crawl and scoot all over the poor unsuspecting woman's desk. I plead my case to her as I take her stapler from my son and replace it on her desk. I pray for her to be speedy like I have never prayed before.
"Has this bank ever been robbed?" George blurts out.
"Unfortunately, yes." The woman replies sheepishly.
"How many times?" George is a persistant little thing.
"Two." The woman answers in almost a whisper. In my mind I am yelling HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO OPEN UP A BANK ACCOUNT!? And when I thought things couldn't get any worse, someone from my party farted. I though I am just going to pretend that didn't happen and hope she does to.
When suddenly in a high pitched voice that only has one volume comes, "Sammy toot! Mom, mom! Sammy toot." Yes, yes I heard you Sammy. I am busy right now looking for a hole to crawl into.
In the end, we got the accounts opened and all it cost me was my pride.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
Me and My Shadow
My daughter and I are very similar. Perhaps too similar. I read somewhere once, in one of my parenting books, that any traits you have will be shown in your kids only magnified. Unfortunately, I have some nasty traits. Yelling is one, the occasional freak out is another. Sure as the sun comes up, I have seen these traits thrown back in my face like a vengant boomerang.
Needless to say, this can create some trying moments with my daughter and I. When she went to bed the other night, I was exhausted. Perhaps she didn't get enough sleep the night before (I let them stay up to watch Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution. Crazy Friday night, I know) or, perhaps it was the two doughnuts she had had that day but she was a bear. I cried. I cried because I found that I did not even enjoy her company that day. I did not even want her in the same room as me because I knew there would be a request or emotional breakdown that would drain me of my last ounce of energy.
I just kept thinking that tomorrow would be a new day. So I put her to bed on time that night and finished the doughnuts myself (it was a sacrifice I had to make). The next day began only marginally better. I was really working to get the house looking like if a social worker walked in she wouldn't have to think twice about weather the children could stay. Just as I was making some headway, I headed upstairs to tackle that situation.
One glance at the floor revealed that my two-year-old had gotten into my scrap paper and scattered hundreds of little pieces of papaer all over the floor. This was my breaking point. I just sat down in my chair and began to cry. I just needed a moment to let it all out before I tackled this latest disaster. I was a little irked when my daughter walked in before I could compose myself. I mean crying over a mess, how old am I, really? I didn't want her to see that. But she did. She leaned over and gave me a big, genuine hug. It felt nice. It was really the first time in a while we weren't at odds. I explained to her my problem and she quickly began to resolve it. "I'll clean this room, George will clean the kitchen and you'll clean the family room. We'll have this place clean in no time!" It made my heart melt.
So we each went to our posts and she cleaned the upstairs room and she really did a good job. George, on the other hand, decided while cleaning the kitchen that he wanted a snack of oatmeal so that was really counterproductive. But her ability to see I was having a tough time and help me out touched me deeply.
My daughter has challenged me in ways I have never been challenged in my whole life. I will be a better person because of it. Tomorrow was a new day, and it was great. I love you Riley.
Needless to say, this can create some trying moments with my daughter and I. When she went to bed the other night, I was exhausted. Perhaps she didn't get enough sleep the night before (I let them stay up to watch Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution. Crazy Friday night, I know) or, perhaps it was the two doughnuts she had had that day but she was a bear. I cried. I cried because I found that I did not even enjoy her company that day. I did not even want her in the same room as me because I knew there would be a request or emotional breakdown that would drain me of my last ounce of energy.
I just kept thinking that tomorrow would be a new day. So I put her to bed on time that night and finished the doughnuts myself (it was a sacrifice I had to make). The next day began only marginally better. I was really working to get the house looking like if a social worker walked in she wouldn't have to think twice about weather the children could stay. Just as I was making some headway, I headed upstairs to tackle that situation.
One glance at the floor revealed that my two-year-old had gotten into my scrap paper and scattered hundreds of little pieces of papaer all over the floor. This was my breaking point. I just sat down in my chair and began to cry. I just needed a moment to let it all out before I tackled this latest disaster. I was a little irked when my daughter walked in before I could compose myself. I mean crying over a mess, how old am I, really? I didn't want her to see that. But she did. She leaned over and gave me a big, genuine hug. It felt nice. It was really the first time in a while we weren't at odds. I explained to her my problem and she quickly began to resolve it. "I'll clean this room, George will clean the kitchen and you'll clean the family room. We'll have this place clean in no time!" It made my heart melt.
So we each went to our posts and she cleaned the upstairs room and she really did a good job. George, on the other hand, decided while cleaning the kitchen that he wanted a snack of oatmeal so that was really counterproductive. But her ability to see I was having a tough time and help me out touched me deeply.
My daughter has challenged me in ways I have never been challenged in my whole life. I will be a better person because of it. Tomorrow was a new day, and it was great. I love you Riley.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
An Easter mass I will never forget....and it wasn't because of the homily
Riley is in the children's choir at our church. Consequently, we had to arrive at church an hour before Easter mass so they could get a quick rehearsal in before show time. Anyone who knows Riley knows that this was her time to shine and she did not mind in the slightest getting to church early to fine tune her solo. The other two little ones, however, not so siked about the extra hour. By the time church finally began George starting whining, "is church ever going to be over!?"
To which I reply,"No son, church is never going to be over and we are going to sit here forever." Mature, I know. Sammy on the other hand did not know what to do with the explosion of energy that had built up in her tiny body. She wanted me to hold her, but she did not want to be still. It took all my energy to keep her in my arms. I put her down every chance I got. So I was relieved when she was content playing in the aisle next to me. The priest began to go nuts with the incense. I mean there was so much of that stuff in the air that everything was hazy and I began to wonder if he was trying to hot box the church. Which may be what triggered what happened next.
There was kind of a fuss in the pew across from us as a mom and her son (who looked to be about four) were leaving the pew. I glanced down at Sam to find her still content playing in the aisle then back up at the kid. Suddenly, without warning, vomit spilled from his mouth. Horrified, I'm sure, the Mom knelt down in front of him and began to wipe it up. Then, this image is one I'll never forget. It turns out the first vomit was just a warm up for the mother load. He puked again. Something about children that never ceases to amaze me is the way they never seem to know when they are about to throw up. I thought, really? You didn't feel that coming at ALL? You couldn't give your Mom a little warning as she was bent down in front of you? I mean was it too much work to tilt your little head to the side. I did not see the rest of the scene as I turned away in horror, grabbing Sammy Rose from the aisle. There is no doubt in my mind that that mother got some puke on her.
Then I did feel kind of bad because for some reason I could not stop laughing. There is something about being in church, when you try to stop laughing and it just gets worse. Like your laugh explodes out of your nose when you are trying to keep it in. I don't remember what Ben did, but his witty comment did not make it easier to stifle the laugh. I thought that in retaliation I should say, "step aside, this man is a paramedic!"
To which Ben replied, "yes, a paramedic can keep people from throwing up." to shae. I consoled myself by thinking, if I were in that situation despite the vomit on my Easter outfit I would have been laughing.
That is how I deal with situations like that. When I am thinking in my head, this can't possibly be actually happening, I laugh. So if you ever meet me and some sort of kid crisis is insuing and I am sitting there laughing, don't worry, I haven't lost my marbles that is just how I deal.
To which I reply,"No son, church is never going to be over and we are going to sit here forever." Mature, I know. Sammy on the other hand did not know what to do with the explosion of energy that had built up in her tiny body. She wanted me to hold her, but she did not want to be still. It took all my energy to keep her in my arms. I put her down every chance I got. So I was relieved when she was content playing in the aisle next to me. The priest began to go nuts with the incense. I mean there was so much of that stuff in the air that everything was hazy and I began to wonder if he was trying to hot box the church. Which may be what triggered what happened next.
There was kind of a fuss in the pew across from us as a mom and her son (who looked to be about four) were leaving the pew. I glanced down at Sam to find her still content playing in the aisle then back up at the kid. Suddenly, without warning, vomit spilled from his mouth. Horrified, I'm sure, the Mom knelt down in front of him and began to wipe it up. Then, this image is one I'll never forget. It turns out the first vomit was just a warm up for the mother load. He puked again. Something about children that never ceases to amaze me is the way they never seem to know when they are about to throw up. I thought, really? You didn't feel that coming at ALL? You couldn't give your Mom a little warning as she was bent down in front of you? I mean was it too much work to tilt your little head to the side. I did not see the rest of the scene as I turned away in horror, grabbing Sammy Rose from the aisle. There is no doubt in my mind that that mother got some puke on her.
Then I did feel kind of bad because for some reason I could not stop laughing. There is something about being in church, when you try to stop laughing and it just gets worse. Like your laugh explodes out of your nose when you are trying to keep it in. I don't remember what Ben did, but his witty comment did not make it easier to stifle the laugh. I thought that in retaliation I should say, "step aside, this man is a paramedic!"
To which Ben replied, "yes, a paramedic can keep people from throwing up." to shae. I consoled myself by thinking, if I were in that situation despite the vomit on my Easter outfit I would have been laughing.
That is how I deal with situations like that. When I am thinking in my head, this can't possibly be actually happening, I laugh. So if you ever meet me and some sort of kid crisis is insuing and I am sitting there laughing, don't worry, I haven't lost my marbles that is just how I deal.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Summer!
Today was the first glimpse of summer. I am not going to lie. For the past couple weeks I have been dreading summer. Summer camp sign ups, can we afford it? Should we sign up for swimming? To t-ball or not to t-ball? Above all these questions is what am I going to do with them ALL DAY!?
Then today I remembered what we do during the summer. We play. This beautiful day made me remember all the things I love about summer. The skinned knees, afternoons at the pool, corn on the cob, chicken on the grill, playing outside 'till your face is red and you are exhausted, fireflies, and sparklers. I do love summer and I am glad I had this day to remind me.
Now I am remebering the summer days when you spend the entire day outside and eat dinner then collapse as a family into a pile of freshly bathed exhaustion. I am looking forward to the hot nights and wine on the front porch with my husband.
Summer, we missed you.
Then today I remembered what we do during the summer. We play. This beautiful day made me remember all the things I love about summer. The skinned knees, afternoons at the pool, corn on the cob, chicken on the grill, playing outside 'till your face is red and you are exhausted, fireflies, and sparklers. I do love summer and I am glad I had this day to remind me.
Now I am remebering the summer days when you spend the entire day outside and eat dinner then collapse as a family into a pile of freshly bathed exhaustion. I am looking forward to the hot nights and wine on the front porch with my husband.
Summer, we missed you.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Say Yes to the dress
I had this very romantic image in my mind of going shopping with my daughter for her first communion dress. When I was growing up I was what you might consider a "social butterfly" I attended lots of dances, particularly in high school and each dance required it's own special dress.
My Mother and I had been dress shopping many times for many different types of occasions and it was always so much fun. She was there and I could count on her for her honest opinion on what she thought looked best on me. She never made me feel guilty about the price, even though I know it was a consideration for her. Dress shopping with my Mom is one of my most treasured memories growing up.
I was excited to recreate this memory with my daughter when shopping for her first communion dress. In fact, I thought it would be an even better experience if we included my mom in the outing. We waited until our trip to Cleveland before we would even step foot into a store looking for the perfect dress.
I carefully chose the store we would go to, Burlington Coat Factory. I had heard from other Mom's in the class that this store had the best selection with the best prices. As we got closer to the dresses Riley broke into a run. Instantly she knew what she liked and didn't like. She proceeded to take some of the dresses off the racks. Some of the dresses she chose actually made me visibly wince. As though I had been punched in the gut. I made a few suggestions that were all quickly dismissed with a wave and a turn of the head.
We made our way to the dressing room. I proceeded to help her pull the layers of polyester blends over head. A beautiful Cinderella dress was quickly disregarded, while the dress containing the most polyester and the most sequin was just as quickly agreed to. "I love it!" Riley proclaimed.
Before I could even think of anything to say the words slipped from between my lips, "Oh my goodness" I was left with a mothers dilemma. I want to let her express her personality without being too controlling. On the other hand I found it physically impossible to shell out $75 for something so tacky.
I ushered my Mom into the dressing room for backup. "I think she is related to Pamela Anderson." was my Mom's only comment to me. We managed to talk her into taking off the dress and left the store. If our group was a cartoon we would each have a cloud over our heads. The mood was NOT good. Fortunately there was a pet store in the same shopping center that turned things around.
The next day, home in Indiana I was talking to two other Mom's in Riley's class and learned that both of them had had the same experiences with their daughters. A wave of relief washed over me. I was not a horrible control freak! Their daughters had awful taste too! One Mom even described the dress her daughter picked out with spaghetti straps and rhinestones. I felt her pain.
On Sunday Riley suggested a trip to the mall. I knew what she had on her mind, the infamous Justice. I agreed because it was somewhere to go on a dreary rainy day when Ben was working.
As we made our way through the mall we walked past JCPenny's. I convinced Riley just to take a look, I mean what could it hurt? We headed to the girls section and a sign above the dresses caught my eye, 50% off. It was a omen. I began to grow hopeful. "How about this one?" I suggested.
"Yeah sure, that one is pretty." Riley agreed. I felt my knees buckle in shock. I tried to hide my elation.
"Let's go try it on." I half shouted.
"OK and this one too." Riley said as she grabbed another dress. I agreed to pacify her.
She tried on the one she suggested and as luck would have it, it was too big. Yes, I could have gone and tried to find it in a different size, but I didn't. Then she tried on my dress. A ray of sunshine from the heavens broke through the bad lighting of the JCPenny dressing room and washed over Riley. She looked beautiful and she liked it too! I wiped a tiny tear from my cheek and checked the price tag, $35!
Fate had stepped in. I may have even done a little dance as we paid.
My Mother and I had been dress shopping many times for many different types of occasions and it was always so much fun. She was there and I could count on her for her honest opinion on what she thought looked best on me. She never made me feel guilty about the price, even though I know it was a consideration for her. Dress shopping with my Mom is one of my most treasured memories growing up.
I was excited to recreate this memory with my daughter when shopping for her first communion dress. In fact, I thought it would be an even better experience if we included my mom in the outing. We waited until our trip to Cleveland before we would even step foot into a store looking for the perfect dress.
I carefully chose the store we would go to, Burlington Coat Factory. I had heard from other Mom's in the class that this store had the best selection with the best prices. As we got closer to the dresses Riley broke into a run. Instantly she knew what she liked and didn't like. She proceeded to take some of the dresses off the racks. Some of the dresses she chose actually made me visibly wince. As though I had been punched in the gut. I made a few suggestions that were all quickly dismissed with a wave and a turn of the head.
We made our way to the dressing room. I proceeded to help her pull the layers of polyester blends over head. A beautiful Cinderella dress was quickly disregarded, while the dress containing the most polyester and the most sequin was just as quickly agreed to. "I love it!" Riley proclaimed.
Before I could even think of anything to say the words slipped from between my lips, "Oh my goodness" I was left with a mothers dilemma. I want to let her express her personality without being too controlling. On the other hand I found it physically impossible to shell out $75 for something so tacky.
I ushered my Mom into the dressing room for backup. "I think she is related to Pamela Anderson." was my Mom's only comment to me. We managed to talk her into taking off the dress and left the store. If our group was a cartoon we would each have a cloud over our heads. The mood was NOT good. Fortunately there was a pet store in the same shopping center that turned things around.
The next day, home in Indiana I was talking to two other Mom's in Riley's class and learned that both of them had had the same experiences with their daughters. A wave of relief washed over me. I was not a horrible control freak! Their daughters had awful taste too! One Mom even described the dress her daughter picked out with spaghetti straps and rhinestones. I felt her pain.
On Sunday Riley suggested a trip to the mall. I knew what she had on her mind, the infamous Justice. I agreed because it was somewhere to go on a dreary rainy day when Ben was working.
As we made our way through the mall we walked past JCPenny's. I convinced Riley just to take a look, I mean what could it hurt? We headed to the girls section and a sign above the dresses caught my eye, 50% off. It was a omen. I began to grow hopeful. "How about this one?" I suggested.
"Yeah sure, that one is pretty." Riley agreed. I felt my knees buckle in shock. I tried to hide my elation.
"Let's go try it on." I half shouted.
"OK and this one too." Riley said as she grabbed another dress. I agreed to pacify her.
She tried on the one she suggested and as luck would have it, it was too big. Yes, I could have gone and tried to find it in a different size, but I didn't. Then she tried on my dress. A ray of sunshine from the heavens broke through the bad lighting of the JCPenny dressing room and washed over Riley. She looked beautiful and she liked it too! I wiped a tiny tear from my cheek and checked the price tag, $35!
Fate had stepped in. I may have even done a little dance as we paid.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The Enforcer
This is the rule enforcer. Her name is Gabrielle and she is a Cane Corso. Gabrielle is my parent's dog and when we visit her house she makes sure that everyone is following the rules. We first discovered this when George and Sammy were having an argument about a toy. George was waving the toy wildly above his head and out of reach of his sister when Gabe walked up and calmly grabbed his elbow in her mouth. Instantly he released his grip and the toy fell to the floor. "Fine she can have it!"
This was the most quickly and quietly a dispute between my children had ever been resolved. This is when I decided that not only did I need an enforcer at my house but that every home with small children should have one. She is much like Nana from Peter Pan or Carl the Rottweiler from the Carl books.
These are the rules that Gabe enforces:
1. No running (she will come after you and knock you down.)
2. No yelling (you really don't want to get her upset)
3. No fighting (this will get her upset)
4. No individual singing (this is one my son insists she enforces but it may just be his singing. Just to be safe we are sure to always sing in a group. You do not want to be on Gabes bad side.)
I find Gabes method of discipline far more effective than any yelling or time outs I may distribute. As a result my children are sure to watch their behavior while they are visiting at my parents house. She is a great dog, thank you for your parenting help Gabrielle.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Today was a fairytale
I just wanted to take a moment to celebrate the ordinary. I used to wish and day dream about extravagant vacations or fame and fortune. Now I just cherish the plain old everyday.
When I was in high school I used to wish away my days, three more hours, two more hours...now the days just seem to fly by. Not that there are not moments that I could do without.
I treasure my ordinary days with laundry and nap time and after school pick up. There is no part of that I do not like. (OK I could do without the bickering) I am enjoying life more now than I ever have before.
My wish for you is that you find comfort and celebration in the ordinary, it is a wonderful thing.
When I was in high school I used to wish away my days, three more hours, two more hours...now the days just seem to fly by. Not that there are not moments that I could do without.
I treasure my ordinary days with laundry and nap time and after school pick up. There is no part of that I do not like. (OK I could do without the bickering) I am enjoying life more now than I ever have before.
My wish for you is that you find comfort and celebration in the ordinary, it is a wonderful thing.
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