I love the beach. I mean, I LOVE the beach. It's my happy place, it's where I feel recharged, it's where I go in my head to escape where I am. (For example, when I was lying on a surgery table after 16 hours of labor, body shuddering and constantly dry-heaving, worried as heck about my baby who was not coming out, I turned to my husband and said, "I'm going to the beach." And I did. And then my little girl was born!)
I love everything about the beach. The endless expanse of ocean, the rhythmic crashing of the waves, the hot sun blazing down, the soft sand shifting beneath me. I enjoy lying down reading a book while I bake, sitting up under an umbrella watching the kids and people around me, standing in the surf while the waves come and go, and walking out into the water to dive through the waves just as they crest. I love it all.
I am a Beach Girl.
My kids, however, I'm not so sure about... yet. I'm pretty confident that I can turn them into Beach Kids, but it turns out it's not an instant thing. Good thing my parent now have a beach house less than 3 hours away, and good thing we are going to be a Family That Travels! Because I am working on it as much as I can.
Not last weekend, but the two weekends before that, I took the kids to my parents' beach house. The first weekend we went, I drove myself and the kids down to the beach house, where my parents and my brother's family were already vacationing. The second weekend, I went with my mom, my kids and my 5-year-old niece. Both times were good times, with fun dynamics. I mean, how cool is it to go on vacations with cousins who are close to you in age? I got to do that every summer at my grandparent's house in Cape Cod with my two cousins from my mom's side. It was always such a great experience. And now I can pass that on to my kids as well.
But back to the issue at hand. The kids and the beach.
We went last year, but the Pookie was too little to really have an opinion. He enjoyed digging in the sand and tried to eat handfuls of sand. The Pumpkin had been in previous years, and she was excited about it. But then we had a little incident where she got swept off her feet by a wave. Even though I immediately had her up and on her feet, it scared her and gave her a healthy respect for the ocean.
I don't know if she remembered that incident on some level of her consciousness or if she is just at an age where things are scarier than they were before. But either way, she was very scared of the water and waves this year. She clung to my hand or ran from the water the whole time we were at the beach that first weekend. She sat just at the edge of where the waves could reach and built a wall (out of sand, which didn't really last as long as she had hoped). I didn't want her to feel and think that she was "scared" of the water, so I gave her the words, "I'm a little nervous about the water" which was super cute to hear her say to other people.
At first, my son seemed excited about the water. He enjoyed getting his feet wet and feeling the sand. I sat him down with his sister to play in the wet sand and build the wall together. These kids of mine spend their entire outdoor playtime at school in the sandbox, so I knew they would love to sit and dig in the sand. And they were really enjoying themselves.
Then a big wave came all the way up to where they were sitting. I had my back to the water, so I didn't realize it and didn't give the kids a warning. It surged over the Pookie unexpectedly. It surprised him and was uncomfortable for his to suddenly have sand and cool water all over his legs, while he was simply sitting in the sand playing. Meanwhile, his sister jumped up, shrieking, and ran back a bit higher in the sand.
I laughed and said "whooa," and he was starting to settle down. But then it happened again. And that was it for him. He was UPSET! I picked him up and helped him back to our umbrella and chairs way back on the beach. He did NOT want to be by the water. He insisted, "No wawa! No wawa!" He didn't even want ME by the water. For the rest of the day.
We hung out back on the beach, out of view of the surf. My parents and brother watched and played with my daughter and her cousins. Then my brother, dad and the cousins went back to the beach house, while my mom and I stayed with my kids.
It was at that point, I was no longer willing to sit so far away from the water (practically out in the dunes!) and out of view of my daughter playing. I also wanted to help my boy get used to the being around the ocean, since my plan is to go to the beach house as much as possible (see above about me being a Beach Girl).
I moved my chair, the toys, our other stuff and my self down to where my mom and daughter were, encouraging my son the whole time to come. He came most of the way, then flipped out about him and me being closer to the water. My mom went back with him to where our stuff had been, and I sat down with my daughter to build a wall.
The tide had gone out a bit, and the beach was less crowded. I could see the Pookie, and he was upset about me being closer to the water, but he was more unhappy being away from me and having no toys back where our stuff had been. He soon came with my mom back to where the Pumpkin and I were playing.
He started getting upset again, but I quickly moved into distraction mode, as well as adamantly telling him I wasn't moving and that the water was not where we were. Plus, I got his sister to start playing with him.
Before I knew it, we were all happy. I had a great view of the ocean, the kids were playing in the sand, and my mom was able to sit down and relax. In one day, we'd come a long way. And even both kids even dipped their feet in the water right before we left, as the four of us all held hands, standing in the surf. It was lovely.
The next morning at the beach went more smoothly. I knew to set up closer to the water from the get-go, I made sure both kids were comfortable with their location (the Pookie started getting upset, but he was quickly mollified). We had a lovely time.
Plus, did I mention the airplanes? The Pookie LOVES airplanes (and any vehicle, or go-go), and he pointed out every. single. one that flew over the beach with advertisements. To everyone around. It was really cute. And we saw boats and seagulls and even dolphins! Both kids loved seeing those things and pointing them out. You know, like Beach Kids do.
The next weekend went even better! From the first hour at the beach, they were playing in the surf with their cousin. They stood their holding my and my mom's hands. Then they wanted to stand on their own more and more.
My daughter ran up and down the slope to the beach, chasing and running from the waves in a fun game. She stood "strong" in the water with her cousin, pretending their feet were on surf boards. My mom lifted them (one at a time) to jump over the edges of the waves as the water came up the beach. She jumped in the water and stood still so her feet would get covered in sand, depending on her mood and current game.
My son wanted to do what the girls were doing. He played and jumped and stood still and wanted me to let go of his hand before long (which was okay for little bits of time, but the waves and riptides at this beach are unpredictable, so I mostly held on to him or at least stood right next to him). At one point, he even said, "mo wawa!" A big change from the previous weekend! So I picked him up and carried him till I was waist deep in the water, with waves surging up higher. I even had to sheild his head with my body when one wave crashed right on our heads! That was as I was just walking us back out of the water. He started to look upset about that one, but I think he didn't because he saw I was laughing and having so much fun!
They are well on their way to becoming Beach Kids now! I feel like I got them both over the initial humps we encountered. I do want them to understand and be slightly wary of the power of the ocean. It's important to know what riptides can do, and why it's important to stay with an adult. We really did have a few scary-ish moments when a strong riptide came out of a seemingly small wave and start to pull the kids with it. They are still small, and the ocean is strong and vast. Luckily, my mom and I and the other adults in my family know and understand what needs to be done to keep them safe, without ruining the enjoyment of the beach.
Because, you know, we're a Beach Family!
Friday, August 5, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Question of the Week - Pick an Era
I actually went out to the movies with my sister on Saturday night. I KNOW! I didn't think it was possible either, but events worked out in a way that we were both able to make it to a late show. And the stop at Starbucks for coffee made it possible to stay up to watch it.
We saw Midnight in Paris, which was a really good movie. Not only did I enjoy the plot and acting and directing and all that, but the movie focused quite a bit on the main character's (Owen Wilson) love of the 1920s (in Paris, no less).
I fell in love with the 20s back when I was in junior high. It wasn't just that the whole literary and artistic movements caught my fancy, but I became fascinated with the breaking away from traditional Victorian conventions to more progressive ideologies. Women were fighting for the right to vote, to wear short skirts, to be treated more equally with men. Automobiles were becoming a normal part of life, and changing every aspect of day-to-day life, from making traveling more convient to providing a private place for young women and men to make out. Speak easies, flappers, gangsters, partying all night, going about without chaperones, defying proper conventions... And on and on. This era had a vibrancy to it, a feeling of the world on the verge of big changes.
I enjoy history, and there are many eras that I really like. The 60s would have been a fascinating time to live in. The Regency era would have been intriguing. Heck, ancient Greece would have been thrilling! But there is something about the Roaring 20s that speaks to me.
So this week's question of the week is:
What era are you drawn to? And in any particular location?
The 20s in Paris is obviously what I am drawn to. But would I actually live then? No, I don't think I'd pick any other era to live in (at least in the past--a future era however...). I really enjoy the modern conviences of today's world, like the internet. I really appreciate all the rights and abilities I have as a women, considering how women have been so limited in the past. I am able to have a wonderful family with an equal partner, work in a job I enjoy (and make good money on par with the men in my position), travel to locations I want to visit, read, write and enjoy other hobbies as I want to.
And most importantly, I am totally in love with my wonderful husband and fabulous children. Who knows what my situation in another era would be. Would my chilren be this healthy? Would I be able to care for them as well as I can here, now? Would I have even been able to get pregnant, considering our need for fertility treatments?
After all, we weren't all Cleopatra in a previous life. Someone would have had to have been the village lunatic and all the serfs working the land.
What about you? What time period do you love? Would you want to live in a different time? And would the location matter? Do you think you could adjust to any time, any where, or are you happy right where you are?
And does anyone else love the Jimmy Buffett line from Boat Drinks, "You pick the century and I'll pick the spot"?
We saw Midnight in Paris, which was a really good movie. Not only did I enjoy the plot and acting and directing and all that, but the movie focused quite a bit on the main character's (Owen Wilson) love of the 1920s (in Paris, no less).
I fell in love with the 20s back when I was in junior high. It wasn't just that the whole literary and artistic movements caught my fancy, but I became fascinated with the breaking away from traditional Victorian conventions to more progressive ideologies. Women were fighting for the right to vote, to wear short skirts, to be treated more equally with men. Automobiles were becoming a normal part of life, and changing every aspect of day-to-day life, from making traveling more convient to providing a private place for young women and men to make out. Speak easies, flappers, gangsters, partying all night, going about without chaperones, defying proper conventions... And on and on. This era had a vibrancy to it, a feeling of the world on the verge of big changes.
I enjoy history, and there are many eras that I really like. The 60s would have been a fascinating time to live in. The Regency era would have been intriguing. Heck, ancient Greece would have been thrilling! But there is something about the Roaring 20s that speaks to me.
So this week's question of the week is:
What era are you drawn to? And in any particular location?
The 20s in Paris is obviously what I am drawn to. But would I actually live then? No, I don't think I'd pick any other era to live in (at least in the past--a future era however...). I really enjoy the modern conviences of today's world, like the internet. I really appreciate all the rights and abilities I have as a women, considering how women have been so limited in the past. I am able to have a wonderful family with an equal partner, work in a job I enjoy (and make good money on par with the men in my position), travel to locations I want to visit, read, write and enjoy other hobbies as I want to.
And most importantly, I am totally in love with my wonderful husband and fabulous children. Who knows what my situation in another era would be. Would my chilren be this healthy? Would I be able to care for them as well as I can here, now? Would I have even been able to get pregnant, considering our need for fertility treatments?
After all, we weren't all Cleopatra in a previous life. Someone would have had to have been the village lunatic and all the serfs working the land.
What about you? What time period do you love? Would you want to live in a different time? And would the location matter? Do you think you could adjust to any time, any where, or are you happy right where you are?
And does anyone else love the Jimmy Buffett line from Boat Drinks, "You pick the century and I'll pick the spot"?
Monday, July 18, 2011
A Family That Travels
Back in the Spring, before my torn meniscus and knee surgery and before Londo's back started acting up, I declared to Londo that we were going to be a Family That Travels. Sure, we've always been a family that travels (minus the first 18 months of the Pumpkin's life when she screamed bloody murder when in the car and carseat for more than 5 minutes). But we were now going to be a Family That Travels!
My parents bought a beach house about 3 hours from our house, and I planned to go almost every weekend from May to September! I would go with Londo and kids, by myself with both kids, with one kid or even by myself. When the kids went on summer break, we would take some of the vacation time to go to the beach and to my inlaws and camping and visiting friends! We were going to be so good at traveling as a family, that we'd be ready to hit Europe next summer (if only we could afford it)! Our bags would be halfway packed at all times, our cars ready to go, our mindsets open for whatever comes up. We'd be ready to go anywhere at the drop of a hat!
In fact, we started this new paradigm one weekend in May, when on a Thursday we decided to go to visit my inlaws (a 5 hour drive with no stops--so about 7 hours with two kids). We just packed up and went, and we had a great time... until I killed my knee while hiking up a hill. A hiatus on the traveling was forced upon me.
It's been a hard month and a half with me laid up recovering and Londo limited. But finally, finally!, we are starting to get into the swing of being a Family That Travels!
Two weekends ago, I took the Pumpkin with me to visit a friend. We handled a very (VERY!) difficult car ride up quite well. This past weekend, I took both kids with me to my parents beach house, and we had a great trip! Plus my brother and his family were there until Saturday, and my parents were there the whole weekend. We've got some good plans for the upcoming weekends and weeks while the kids are out of school. Not all of them are travel weekends, but we are going to be flexible in deciding when we stay and when we go. And when we go? No problemo! Because we are a Family That Travels.
There was a time period in my life when I thought I'd become a travel writer, even going to grad school for journalism, concentrating in magazine writing. That was not the road I ended up on, but I still love to read travel stories and I love to write about my travels. In fact, I hope to write more with my new outlook on travel with a husband and kids. Until I'm able to get some travel under my belt in my Family That Travels, I am enjoying reading travel stories about other families. Currently, I'm reading Family Travels: The Farther You Go, the Closer You Get, short stories by my favorite travel guide series, Travelers' Tales Guides. I have A Mother's World: Journeys of the Heart waiting to be read next!
I'm inspired by what I am reading about other families and their travels, far and wide. I know that it can be difficult to travel with kids. But I'm hoping with the right mindsets and the decree that we are a Family That Travels, we will take the difficulties in stride and really focus on the fun things we can do and see as we travel. I know that it is possible, because I grew up in a Family That Travels. Oh, the stories I could tell you...
My parents bought a beach house about 3 hours from our house, and I planned to go almost every weekend from May to September! I would go with Londo and kids, by myself with both kids, with one kid or even by myself. When the kids went on summer break, we would take some of the vacation time to go to the beach and to my inlaws and camping and visiting friends! We were going to be so good at traveling as a family, that we'd be ready to hit Europe next summer (if only we could afford it)! Our bags would be halfway packed at all times, our cars ready to go, our mindsets open for whatever comes up. We'd be ready to go anywhere at the drop of a hat!
In fact, we started this new paradigm one weekend in May, when on a Thursday we decided to go to visit my inlaws (a 5 hour drive with no stops--so about 7 hours with two kids). We just packed up and went, and we had a great time... until I killed my knee while hiking up a hill. A hiatus on the traveling was forced upon me.
It's been a hard month and a half with me laid up recovering and Londo limited. But finally, finally!, we are starting to get into the swing of being a Family That Travels!
Two weekends ago, I took the Pumpkin with me to visit a friend. We handled a very (VERY!) difficult car ride up quite well. This past weekend, I took both kids with me to my parents beach house, and we had a great trip! Plus my brother and his family were there until Saturday, and my parents were there the whole weekend. We've got some good plans for the upcoming weekends and weeks while the kids are out of school. Not all of them are travel weekends, but we are going to be flexible in deciding when we stay and when we go. And when we go? No problemo! Because we are a Family That Travels.
There was a time period in my life when I thought I'd become a travel writer, even going to grad school for journalism, concentrating in magazine writing. That was not the road I ended up on, but I still love to read travel stories and I love to write about my travels. In fact, I hope to write more with my new outlook on travel with a husband and kids. Until I'm able to get some travel under my belt in my Family That Travels, I am enjoying reading travel stories about other families. Currently, I'm reading Family Travels: The Farther You Go, the Closer You Get, short stories by my favorite travel guide series, Travelers' Tales Guides. I have A Mother's World: Journeys of the Heart waiting to be read next!
I'm inspired by what I am reading about other families and their travels, far and wide. I know that it can be difficult to travel with kids. But I'm hoping with the right mindsets and the decree that we are a Family That Travels, we will take the difficulties in stride and really focus on the fun things we can do and see as we travel. I know that it is possible, because I grew up in a Family That Travels. Oh, the stories I could tell you...
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
When You've Had a Runner
Last weekend, my daughter and I had a girls road trip! We went up to visit a friend of mine (MommyEm) about 4 hours away (with no stops, traffic or GPS giving bad directions--in other words way longer than a 4 hour drive). Her oldest is 4, just 3 months older than the Pumpkin, and her youngest is 1. We had a really great visit, and the girls got along pretty well, after a transition and warm-up period.
Most importantly, I had a great time hanging out with one of my best friends.
We spent a lot of time talking about our kids, who have some similar "spirited" traits. But they also have some very key differences. As do our parenting styles. But we support each other and don't judge each other. We know that kids can be difficult, and parenting is hard. Most importantly, there are a million "right" ways to do things, both as a child and a parent.
There were a few things that we had different limits about that got me thinking. Specifically, there are three times I'm thinking of:
1. When the girls were running around outside playing tag with another girl and my daughter went running off, I told her to freeze and come back. I hadn't been outside the whole time, so I checked in with my friend. She said that she lets the girls run all the way up to a spot that was WAY out of my comfort zone. So we modified it so that the girls stayed closer.
2. When we were walking from the car to the pool (where we had a fantastic time!), I told my girl not to run on the sidewalk. When we were leaving, I had no problem let the Pumpkin run down the grassy hill, which ended in a flat green area.
3. When going to and from the car in any parking lot, as well as crossing all streets, the rule is that the Pumpkin has to hold an adult's hand. (Although I do let the Pumpkin hold only the Pookie's hand as long as I'm holding the Pookie's other hand and I'm sure she won't let go of his hand.) Even going from a curb to the car door when there is no chance that the car next to us is going to move.
For one of these (or maybe more, I can't exactly recall), my friend asked why I was or wasn't okay with what was happening. I tried to figure it out, but what I said didn't feel right. I don't even remember what it was. But it certainly got me thinking.
But as I insisted on holding my 4 year old's hand the few feet to her car door, I realized what the difference probably was*. I turned to my friend and asked her, "Was your daughter a runner?"
My friend said that she wasn't. Her daughter would never have run off or into anything that might be dangerous.
My daughter meanwhile? Well, just image what a toddler with advanced gross motor skills, no sense of danger and who loved to run would be like. My daughter? She was a Runner. Before you could blink, she would be running straight for a street, a steep hill or whichever way you didn't want her to go.
I told my friend the story of when I was really pregnant with the Pookie one Easter and Londo got sick and couldn't go with us on the egg hunt in my parents' yard. As we walked outside, I enlisted my brother in law's help to chase after her when (not if) she started running off. Sure enough, we were in the un-fenced part of the yard for under a minute when she started running off. She's was a Runner.
Because she loves to run so much, I have created room for her to run, within limits. After the Pookie was born, I would let her run as I was getting all my stuff (and the Pookie when he started daycare) into the car. I gave her limits on where she could run to, when she could start (no cars could be moving anywhere on our street) and when she had to stop (if I say "freeze" she has to stop right away). For the first week or so, I ran with her, and then I watched her like a hawk, and finally relaxed a bit when I was sure she would stay within the boundaries I gave her.
But there are still too many scenarios that are just too dangerous in case she randomly bolts. And I have memories of a couple times when I nearly had a heart attack because she ran in an unsafe situation. So I will likely continue holding her hand on any asphalt, and I will still put careful limits on where she can run around, and I will worry about her running too close to the street.
Having had a runner, I have been irrevocably changed. It has become ingrained to worry about my child near a road or in a store or near a steep hill with a busy road at the bottom. I'm not sure those who haven't had runners will fully understand, and they might wonder why I still hold my child's hand crossing a deserted street. They might wonder why I yell "freeze" when my child is just playing tag with friends. Some might think I'm over-protective or a helicopter parent. (Again, this does not reflect my friend, just thoughts I've had over the years.)
But if you ever had the constant fear that your child might run off into a busy street with no warning, so fast you weren't sure you could catch them in time, and with so little thought about serious consequences... well, you probably are still holding your kids' hands, too.
*To be honest, I have no idea of other 4 year olds have to hold their parents' hands whenever they are on asphalt. I didn't pay attention to whether or not my friend had the same rule with her 4 year old. But I'm pretty sure I've seen other 4 year olds at my kids' school go in and out of cars and even cross the street without holding an adult's hand.
Most importantly, I had a great time hanging out with one of my best friends.
We spent a lot of time talking about our kids, who have some similar "spirited" traits. But they also have some very key differences. As do our parenting styles. But we support each other and don't judge each other. We know that kids can be difficult, and parenting is hard. Most importantly, there are a million "right" ways to do things, both as a child and a parent.
There were a few things that we had different limits about that got me thinking. Specifically, there are three times I'm thinking of:
1. When the girls were running around outside playing tag with another girl and my daughter went running off, I told her to freeze and come back. I hadn't been outside the whole time, so I checked in with my friend. She said that she lets the girls run all the way up to a spot that was WAY out of my comfort zone. So we modified it so that the girls stayed closer.
2. When we were walking from the car to the pool (where we had a fantastic time!), I told my girl not to run on the sidewalk. When we were leaving, I had no problem let the Pumpkin run down the grassy hill, which ended in a flat green area.
3. When going to and from the car in any parking lot, as well as crossing all streets, the rule is that the Pumpkin has to hold an adult's hand. (Although I do let the Pumpkin hold only the Pookie's hand as long as I'm holding the Pookie's other hand and I'm sure she won't let go of his hand.) Even going from a curb to the car door when there is no chance that the car next to us is going to move.
For one of these (or maybe more, I can't exactly recall), my friend asked why I was or wasn't okay with what was happening. I tried to figure it out, but what I said didn't feel right. I don't even remember what it was. But it certainly got me thinking.
But as I insisted on holding my 4 year old's hand the few feet to her car door, I realized what the difference probably was*. I turned to my friend and asked her, "Was your daughter a runner?"
My friend said that she wasn't. Her daughter would never have run off or into anything that might be dangerous.
My daughter meanwhile? Well, just image what a toddler with advanced gross motor skills, no sense of danger and who loved to run would be like. My daughter? She was a Runner. Before you could blink, she would be running straight for a street, a steep hill or whichever way you didn't want her to go.
I told my friend the story of when I was really pregnant with the Pookie one Easter and Londo got sick and couldn't go with us on the egg hunt in my parents' yard. As we walked outside, I enlisted my brother in law's help to chase after her when (not if) she started running off. Sure enough, we were in the un-fenced part of the yard for under a minute when she started running off. She's was a Runner.
Because she loves to run so much, I have created room for her to run, within limits. After the Pookie was born, I would let her run as I was getting all my stuff (and the Pookie when he started daycare) into the car. I gave her limits on where she could run to, when she could start (no cars could be moving anywhere on our street) and when she had to stop (if I say "freeze" she has to stop right away). For the first week or so, I ran with her, and then I watched her like a hawk, and finally relaxed a bit when I was sure she would stay within the boundaries I gave her.
But there are still too many scenarios that are just too dangerous in case she randomly bolts. And I have memories of a couple times when I nearly had a heart attack because she ran in an unsafe situation. So I will likely continue holding her hand on any asphalt, and I will still put careful limits on where she can run around, and I will worry about her running too close to the street.
Having had a runner, I have been irrevocably changed. It has become ingrained to worry about my child near a road or in a store or near a steep hill with a busy road at the bottom. I'm not sure those who haven't had runners will fully understand, and they might wonder why I still hold my child's hand crossing a deserted street. They might wonder why I yell "freeze" when my child is just playing tag with friends. Some might think I'm over-protective or a helicopter parent. (Again, this does not reflect my friend, just thoughts I've had over the years.)
But if you ever had the constant fear that your child might run off into a busy street with no warning, so fast you weren't sure you could catch them in time, and with so little thought about serious consequences... well, you probably are still holding your kids' hands, too.
*To be honest, I have no idea of other 4 year olds have to hold their parents' hands whenever they are on asphalt. I didn't pay attention to whether or not my friend had the same rule with her 4 year old. But I'm pretty sure I've seen other 4 year olds at my kids' school go in and out of cars and even cross the street without holding an adult's hand.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Question of the Week - Teaching by Example
This morning was I was on my own with the kids for the first morning since having knee surgery. Londo did get the Pookie out of his crib and watched him until he had to leave for work, letting me (and the Pumpkin who was in bed with me, of course) sleep as long as possible. Which was very helpful, considering I stayed up way to late last night because someone was wrong on the internet! (Love that pic, and thanks to @Cloud for linking to it in one of her posts.)
But I did stay up too late, and I was sore from the previous day, which was my first day back in the office including driving myself around. I was trying not to be grumpy, but I was. I snapped at my daughter and started walking away over her dillydallying instead of getting ready. After about three steps (hobbles with cane!) down the hallway, I realized I wasn't reacting well. So I took a deep breath, and said out loud so my daughter could hear, "I shouldn't have yelled. That wasn't right. I shouldn't lose my patience like that. I need to try that again."
I walked back into the bathroom and explained to my girl that it was hard for me to stand so long while she was flopping around, that my knee was very sore, that I was grumpy and I lost my patience. Playfully, I said, "I need to find more patience. Where do you think some might be?" And she laughing said there was some over there, pointing to the other side of the bathroom.
I went over and got some "patience." Then I told her I wanted us both to try again. I said that I was going to keep my patience and I needed her to focus on getting ready. Then she added, "And you shouldn't yell because it makes me sad." I told her I would do my best, and that I needed her to do her best.
Next thing you know, she's ready for the day in cute pigtails, the Pookie was already in a cute t-shirt with cars, and I was ready to drop them off at school and go to my first physical therapy appointment.
I tell that part of the morning to point out the way I talk things out loud in front of my daughter. Things I want her to learn and understand and also imitate when she is feeling the same way. This is a huge part of the way I parent. And I know it helps, because she adds things like the fact that I shouldn't yell, and she does try again with me, and we generally do better when I use this parenting tactic.
As the kiddos ate breakfast, I got some last minute things. I was finally ready to start thinking about leaving the house and making sure I had everything I needed for my physical therapy appointment. Then, I thought about the time.
THE TIME! Oh, man!
Normally, I usher the kids to the front hall and the "getting ready" chairs at 8:30 so we can be in the car and leaving by 8:45 to get to their school at about 9:00. BUT this morning, my physical therapy was at 9:00. I made that appointment before I knew that Londo couldn't do drop off that day and that my mom was out of town. I had to do the morning, do the drop off and still make my 9:00 appointment, which meant I had to have kids in the car BY 8:30!
And of course, it was already 8:30. And everything was taking me slightly longer than usually because limping with a cane is slower than walking with two working legs. I started to freak out, making it very clear to the kids that I was very frustrated that I hadn't accounted for the time correctly and that I wasn't mad at them. But I was freaking out. The kids? They were awesome. They hurried, put up only a little fuss about shoes and sun block, and generally were helpful and focused. But even with that, it was 8:48 by the time I got them in the car and backed out my driveway.
I was so upset. I started crying a little bit from the stress and frustration. And do you know what my daughter said? She said, "It's okay, Mommy. You just need to calm down a bit. Try taking some deep breathes, like this... in and out, in and out." I listened to her and did what she said. Darned if she wasn't right! I DID feel better!
I thanked her, told her I did feel better and then asked for no talking for a minute while I finished calming down. I handed them the rest of their toast that they didn't have time to finish in the rush out the door. And then I was able to think and figure out what to do. I called the place, told them I would be late to the appointment, and they said it was no problem. And I felt a TON better.
I thanked my daughter and told her that because she helped me calm down, I was able to "think think think" and figure out what I needed to do, which was call the place, and they said it was no problem that I was going to be late!
This week's question of the week is:
What have you seen/heard your kid(s) do/say that reflects something you've been teaching them by example?
Unfortunately, it's not always good things we teach them by example. Nor do they always use the lessons correctly.
My son has been saying, "I mad!" all the freaking time lately. He's not always really mad, but he likes to say it. The reason we taught him this was so he'd learn the words to say he was mad and stop his foot to show how mad instead of the hitting and pushing and biting he was starting to do. So even though it was a good lesson that the Pumpkin and I showed him how to express his anger, he's now doing it just to get a reaction out of us. But, you know, he's Two.
How about your kid(s)? Have you shown them how to do something? Have you expressed your words hoping they will do the same? Does it work for you? Or are they repeating your curse words instead of the good job praises?
But I did stay up too late, and I was sore from the previous day, which was my first day back in the office including driving myself around. I was trying not to be grumpy, but I was. I snapped at my daughter and started walking away over her dillydallying instead of getting ready. After about three steps (hobbles with cane!) down the hallway, I realized I wasn't reacting well. So I took a deep breath, and said out loud so my daughter could hear, "I shouldn't have yelled. That wasn't right. I shouldn't lose my patience like that. I need to try that again."
I walked back into the bathroom and explained to my girl that it was hard for me to stand so long while she was flopping around, that my knee was very sore, that I was grumpy and I lost my patience. Playfully, I said, "I need to find more patience. Where do you think some might be?" And she laughing said there was some over there, pointing to the other side of the bathroom.
I went over and got some "patience." Then I told her I wanted us both to try again. I said that I was going to keep my patience and I needed her to focus on getting ready. Then she added, "And you shouldn't yell because it makes me sad." I told her I would do my best, and that I needed her to do her best.
Next thing you know, she's ready for the day in cute pigtails, the Pookie was already in a cute t-shirt with cars, and I was ready to drop them off at school and go to my first physical therapy appointment.
I tell that part of the morning to point out the way I talk things out loud in front of my daughter. Things I want her to learn and understand and also imitate when she is feeling the same way. This is a huge part of the way I parent. And I know it helps, because she adds things like the fact that I shouldn't yell, and she does try again with me, and we generally do better when I use this parenting tactic.
As the kiddos ate breakfast, I got some last minute things. I was finally ready to start thinking about leaving the house and making sure I had everything I needed for my physical therapy appointment. Then, I thought about the time.
THE TIME! Oh, man!
Normally, I usher the kids to the front hall and the "getting ready" chairs at 8:30 so we can be in the car and leaving by 8:45 to get to their school at about 9:00. BUT this morning, my physical therapy was at 9:00. I made that appointment before I knew that Londo couldn't do drop off that day and that my mom was out of town. I had to do the morning, do the drop off and still make my 9:00 appointment, which meant I had to have kids in the car BY 8:30!
And of course, it was already 8:30. And everything was taking me slightly longer than usually because limping with a cane is slower than walking with two working legs. I started to freak out, making it very clear to the kids that I was very frustrated that I hadn't accounted for the time correctly and that I wasn't mad at them. But I was freaking out. The kids? They were awesome. They hurried, put up only a little fuss about shoes and sun block, and generally were helpful and focused. But even with that, it was 8:48 by the time I got them in the car and backed out my driveway.
I was so upset. I started crying a little bit from the stress and frustration. And do you know what my daughter said? She said, "It's okay, Mommy. You just need to calm down a bit. Try taking some deep breathes, like this... in and out, in and out." I listened to her and did what she said. Darned if she wasn't right! I DID feel better!
I thanked her, told her I did feel better and then asked for no talking for a minute while I finished calming down. I handed them the rest of their toast that they didn't have time to finish in the rush out the door. And then I was able to think and figure out what to do. I called the place, told them I would be late to the appointment, and they said it was no problem. And I felt a TON better.
I thanked my daughter and told her that because she helped me calm down, I was able to "think think think" and figure out what I needed to do, which was call the place, and they said it was no problem that I was going to be late!
This week's question of the week is:
What have you seen/heard your kid(s) do/say that reflects something you've been teaching them by example?
Unfortunately, it's not always good things we teach them by example. Nor do they always use the lessons correctly.
My son has been saying, "I mad!" all the freaking time lately. He's not always really mad, but he likes to say it. The reason we taught him this was so he'd learn the words to say he was mad and stop his foot to show how mad instead of the hitting and pushing and biting he was starting to do. So even though it was a good lesson that the Pumpkin and I showed him how to express his anger, he's now doing it just to get a reaction out of us. But, you know, he's Two.
How about your kid(s)? Have you shown them how to do something? Have you expressed your words hoping they will do the same? Does it work for you? Or are they repeating your curse words instead of the good job praises?
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