I'm a mom and I worry. We all worry about something, well I'm an overweight woman these days and not leading by the best example of health for my children.
First, before I get any emails, yes, I am doing my best to better myself! I know leading by example is the best thing I can do. I've noticed something recently though that has me slightly concerned.
Prior to my daughter starting preschool, we went to the zoo and other fun activities weekly. She rarely ever complained of being tired of walking. Lately though, if we walk the dog she starts in, "I'm tiiiired." Now I know mostly, it's the lack of excitement. I'm hardly excited about walking the dog around our very hilly neighborhood, but even when we go somewhere new it's all she can do before she starts in.
Occasionally my little princess will even announce that she's so bored she's changing her name!
On top of my demanding four year old, my two year old can eat more than I possibly can. He wants a snack while I prepare breakfast, then he eats, then he wants to eat mine, etc etc all day long! He's fairly thin, so it's not a weight thing, but I know that it could be eventually. I certainly didn't start out a chunky kid.
Now during spring, it's so easy, but even here in California it gets chilly enough that my baby's lips turn purple. However I've been finding some fun ways to keep us hopping and hopefully keeping us in better health! First and foremost, everyone helps out when it's time to clean house now! Not just mom and it makes for a much happier me!
The kids and I crank up some fun music and dance around. Though it doesn't help the floors as much as I'd love, I can prep the floors and give the kids a couple towels to 'skate' around and gather up some of that dust.
With the winter olympics around the corner, the kids are also immitating most any event we see on television. We pulled out our coffee table to help make this more safe for my older children, and a more suitable crawling space for my baby who's finally chugging along.
For some imagination we pretend we're putting on a parade! Marching around the house follow the leader style is a blast and doesn't get any of the "I'm boooored" comments that walking the dog does!
With all the awesome technology out there, I also own DDR and now that the table is moved, that'll be back in action, and I might just go ahead and buy one of the many Wii fitness games for myself. For Christmas, someone also gave my kids a dance mat game similar to DDR to help keep them moving and focused on something when mommy needs a little mommy time (like working on the site!).
Basically, I know that as long as my kids aren't refusing to walk, we're probably fine, but I hope one day I can walk the dog without hearing that my children can't make it up the last hill.
Who am I kidding, I'm sure the older they get the worse it'll be!
I have no idea where this started, or where my daughter even learned the name Pam.
Occasionally she'll learn words or phrases and I'll figure it out eventually, but for the life of me I cannot come up with the name Pam anywhere I look. This past weekend though, Pam has entered my life.
My daughter's name is Alessandra, a name that she's constantly told is very pretty. Some of her family members tend to want to call her Alex or Ali, however she'll happily tell you her name is Alessandra. She can spell and write her full name and I never thought once that she would randomly change her name.
Friday (I think) she announced to me that she was tired of her little brothers going into her bedroom and that she was no longer Alessandra. Instead I was to call her Pam. I blinked a few times, repeated it, and she laughed and said she was just kidding. Later on during the day though, she announced that she was again Pam, and she would remain Pam until she was bored of it (which she was at bedtime).
I'm not quite sure what to think about her name change, but I'm rolling with it. During our bedtime routine, we now tell tales about Pam and her magical unicorn friend. I'm not sure if I should be encouraging it, but I love encouraging independence and creativity. If that's what Pam brings to our life, so be it!
I think every parent wants to give their children what they didn't have. My parents did their best to give me everything possible and live within their means. I'm still trying to master the last part of that.
I want to give my kids everything and sometimes it bites me in the booty when it comes time to pay bills. It was so much easier when it was with one kiddo, but now with 3 man it adds up fast!
That being said, thanks to my daughter's preschool, my kids got to experience something that was on my 'to do' list that I had not been able to accomplish yet.
Opera!
Near our town, there is apparently a small town Opera House! I was so excited, I had no idea it was there. For a few schools, this Opera House put together a children's Opera.
The kids were very excited, though they had no idea what to expect. We got there fairly early, and the waiting was getting dreadful. My daughter is very sensitive to white noise, and as more and more kids filed in, that noise level was fairly high. Thankfully, before she had a total breakdown, it was time!
It was an adorable story of a 'bird-man', named Poppigino, looking for love. The Prince (who opened the story) happened to be a magician, and he tried to help Poppigino by conjuring his true love. There were several cute characters, and the Opera itself probably only lasted 30-45 minutes. Perfect length for the age group.
My kids came out of the theater with an appreciation for opera, and if I can find more kids opera's I will do my best to continue this appreciation. Who knows what our next experience will be, but I'm grateful this one came when it did (after a long week of sick kids)!
When my son turned two, I nervously awaited the ever-feared “Terrible Two’s”.
As we coasted through the first few months of his second year, I thought to myself that maybe I was a lucky mom that didn’t have to experience the TT phase. Boy was I wrong! London started showing that he had no interest in sharing, and that he would always want to be king of his domain, whether at home, the bookstore, or the park. It was his turf and I could not believe my sweet boy was becoming the bully in the group.
As much as I tried to use “be nice”, “share”, “friends”, and “sorry” I found myself avoiding play dates, thinking that my son just wasn’t ready to socialize, and would end up hibernating my little “terror” in our house, where he could play with his trains and I would work on socialization at his own pace. We would practice taking turns, sharing trains, and cleaning up.
Then, I started asking other moms online for their feedback. The advice I got was simple: don’t give up! Most moms will understand when you have a child that is not use to being around other children. Some suggested hosting small play dates to start and having London put away toys that were special to him so he feels in control of what he shares.
All the suggestions encouraged putting London out there and letting him be a boy, exploring and adjusting to his surroundings. So, I did. I’ve been to different parks in the last week and have progressively seen a huge improvement. I see London’s independence shining through. I see him not needing my help and by stepping back and observing, I am seeing him resolve his own situations with his new friends. Sure, every now and then, I’ll chime in with “no pushing” or “wait your turn” but it’s amazing to see that London can keep up with the group now and doesn’t stick out like a sour sore thumb!
If you are reading this and feel like you can relate, don’t give up on your little one and remember – socializing with an adult and/or parent can never be compared with your son or daughter interacting with another child. Be patient and give them time.
And now for another installment of, “Why Nothing In My Life Is Simple.” Time being the funny little thing that it is, while this vignette is practically a transcript of what happened, my kids are now teenagers and I wrote this when my youngest daughter was only about three years old. Thus, I have excavated this from the “basement manuscripts,” as it were, of my writing collection. Does that make it worth more?
Our pets have a “blankie” – it’s pink, old, rust-stained and full of memories for them, I’m sure. We leave the pinkie blankie in their special garage haven for those times when we find ourselves gone for lengthy periods of time (5 to 10 minutes) and/or when the weather is inclimate. The blanket stays in the garage. Or so we thought.
One rainy morning my youngest daughter is belting out some nondescript tune as loudly as she possibly can when I ask her to pipe down for a sec, ‘cuz I’m trying to do two things at once – chew gum and back down the driveway. You have to know that, while our driveway is not a nosebleed-inducing driveway, it is steep in the same way that a ramp is steep for Evil Knievel’s son. Okay, maybe it is steep. As we back down the driveway I find that the vehicle is not handling quite as wonderfully as usual, but I chalk that up to the fact that I insist on rolling over our hedge every morning and evening of our lives, elevating my husband’s blood pressure and our insurance rates. This fact often makes for a bumpy ride, particularly during a season of growth when the hedge looks like an unkempt buffalo topiary – upside down.
This particular morning we drive into town, onto the freeway, around mountaintops, and over a few more hedges not located on my property at speeds often reaching 60 miles per hour. As I arrive at my daughter’s school, I shut the driver’s side door as I have done every day since my 16th birthday, but I’ve never seen a sight like this one. There is something pink wrapped around my front driver’s side tire and, if I’m not mistaken, it’s the dog blankie. That thing is wrapped so far around the axle that I’m surprised I didn’t see it coming through the steering column as I drove the streets of Nevada County.
As I mildly exclaim at my misfortune – “Oh, @#&!” – I take the most prudent tact to removing the blasted thing from the tire, attempting to yank it off of the one-wheel portion of my all-wheel feature. I place one of my stylishly shod feet onto the tire and pull as hard as I can while the rain pours down on my head and my youngest daughter stares in disbelief.
The blanket doesn’t budge. Nope, not even a thread. I decide to finish this job off after my cornflakes kick in more noticeably, so I walk my daughter to her class and then drive off to my own place of business which also happens to be a school. This is when the real hilarity begins.
After parking, I hope against hope that the blanket has managed to dislodge itself. Huh-uh. No such luck. It must weigh three hundred pounds at this point, with the rain soaking it, making it extra sticky with all of that nice dog hair and mud. There it is. Wound tightly. Mocking me.
I resign myself to a lack of closure on my tire issue and go teach a class or two. Admittedly I’m a tad distracted so I decide to get proactive and call the on-campus automotive teacher for some professional counsel. After he gets done laughing, he informs me that a couple of his students would be only too happy to help me (translation: laugh at me), so drive on over to the auto shop.
By this time I am not only a fashion “don’t” I am a fashion abomination. My hair has become a dismal reflection of the kind of day I am having. It’s lank, lifeless and dripping hair products at an alarming rate. Rarely have I ever gone backwards in my beauty routine so early in the day. Few vestiges of my facial make-up remain and I have even less of a semblance of a hairstyle. I hoof it out to my car, experiencing the fine sensation of seeping clothing. I am so wet that my hosiery is making an attractive sucking sound in my shoes like that which is emitted by movie star swamp animals. I persevere, even though I know that I am not going to be voted “Middle-Aged Beauty on Campus,” (coincidentally, this same situation will also guarantee that I will not be up for any “brainiac” awards either).
Out of viable choices, I continue my journey to the auto shop and am met by two unlucky teens who disgorge themselves from their class, where they seem barely conscious, something I’m sure is not the teacher’s fault. (Perhaps as a teacher I am biased?) They look at me incredulously after I tell them my story, get the vehicle turbo jacked-up on the lifty-thing and commence to helping me with my problem. Except I have no problem. Well, no pink blankie problem anyway. After I apologize profusely and the students try very hard not to laugh, I drive around in search of the offensive blanket that is out to get me. In the name of all that is holy, how can that tenacious piece of wool that I spent thirty minutes attempting to drop off in the space of a three-minute drive from one parking lot to another?
I had a hard time accepting the fact that the blankie was now M.B.I.A. – Missing Blankie In Action, even though, given the way things play out in my life, it made perfect sense. I decided to cruise the many parking lots that surround our school to see if perhaps it had gotten dragged around by some other poor sap, morphed itself into a car cover or some other viable reason for its departure, but, alas, I was rewarded with not one pink blankie sighting. It just goes to show you that this situation is no different than any other situation we encounter in life, whether it’s a pink blankie, the potato masher or a man who dances – they’re never there when you really need them.
Today has been one of those days where I felt complately tired, overwhelmed, frazzled, yet somehow at peace with my life. I'm in a place where I never intended (or wanted) to be - living with my mother in law. Today I passed over money we really didn't have to do some front landscaping, frustrating since I'd love to be out of the house, yet liberating to know that I'm finally coming to peace with it.
I could be sitting here bitter and upset, yet instead I'm doing my best to make the best of a tired situation. I've been getting rid of bags and boxes of things - donation, trash, and of course keep sakes. It feels like I've hardly made a dent, but then again, I'm finally getting comfortable.
My daughter is in preschool, and loves it so much that she tells me I don't need to be there on my days of work. My son (middle child) loves me dearly and greets me at the door with an "I missed you so much mommy." Don't you wish that could last forever? My baby, well, he's my baby! Can't really top that with the details of him learning to giggle and grab things ...aka MY HAIR! I guess as long as he's giggling while he does it I won't be too upset.
Thinking of my kiddo's, I only have one in diapers again! That's right, I conquered the beast of potty training yet again! I know it would have been done sooner if we hadn't moved, but if we hadn't moved I wouldn't have been taking my daughter to this preschool that she adores.
So here I am, at 8pm, sitting in a fairly filthy house. Thrilled that I have three healthy children, two of whom are asleep, while the other mutters not so happily in the swing beside me (telling me to hurry up I suppose)! Tomorrow I'll work on cleaning, but until then, I think I'll just do my best to be content.
However if you want to come over, clean my house, do my dishes, or at least change a diaper, I won't turn y ou away ;)
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