The Boxed Art of Imagination

I am not spontaneous; therefore, we have a schedule for homeschooling. Although I am not rigid with my schedules, I am pretty strict on the girls doing and completing school. Sometimes, though, my children remind me parenting is about living up those spontaneous moments.

Today, E was working with blocks. I sat down next to him and asked him what he was doing. He said, "Building shapes. I'm going to make a triangle for you." He proceeded to make a square.

"That's a square," I said.

He smiled, "Yes, I said I was going to make a square," he proclaimed. And then we made several shapes together.

Later, he was sitting in an empty box and I said, "Are you sailing in a ship."

He said, "No, in a choo-choo train. But it's missing cars, Mommy." So I found several other boxes for him. He grabbed the dog's water container and made it a smoke stack. He managed to convince his sisters to help him decorate them. They sat in the foyer "riding' their choo-choo train for at least an hour.

As parents, we often hear children would rather play with the boxes than what is inside a box. For my children, that is definitely true.

Disappointments

K tried out for soccer. Our rule of thumb is that no matter what you have to try your best and you have to follow through. She chose to give up FRYO (orchestra) for a year so she could commit herself to soccer and learn the sport better. Today, she found out she broke her foot while playing soccer. She also found out she is not on the same team as she was in the spring. Her first reaction was to quit. My first reaction was to let her quit. But, quitting breaks the rules. I asked her when I wrote the check if it was what she wanted.--playing soccer vs orchestra. She wanted to. But not being on the team means not having her friends. I want her to learn not to do things just for friends. Do what you want to do, especially a sport, because you love and want to learn the sport and not because you like certain people.

After clearing my mind, we decided that when the cast comes off, we will practice soccer. We haven't really expected commitment--i.e. passion--from the Alphabet kids. Now, though, we need to start. She doesn't practice anything--soccer, violin, etc. So, now we can learn a hard lesson in the wake of disappointments: we don't quit despite disappointments. The next lesson I'd like her to learn (and I hope it manifests) is just because we don't get what we think we initially want, there may be a chance that what we get it far better and greater. And hard work may get us back to where we want as well.

The way it is decided: The girls try out and based on number scores make the various teams. In the end, she needs to up her game to be on the same team with her friends. If she quits, she won't see these friends (they are only on soccer with her). Plus, she doesn't even have a chance at making their team in the next try-outs (no practice means no skill building). She made a team and will be building skills. As she practices, she's bound to improve and may end up on the same team again.

It's a hard lesson, but a good one.

My Resolutions

It's somehow mandated that a resolution be made. I don't know why this is a mandate or who made it but every blogger everywhere is posting their witty "11" to 2011 resolutions. I really never make them. I claim I will, but somehow it is January 7, 2011 and I haven't really made them. I strive to do things better. So I guess that is a resolution. Here are a few things I am attempting: 1. Being organized 2. Being happy 3. Having a cleaner existence 4. Being free


 Makes no sense to you right? Should I be more specific? I don't know. I spent the last few days scrubbing floors, doing laundry and general "spring" cleaning. It has made me happy. I had no other obligations but these things. And, to my wondrous surprise, I was happy. If I wanted to do something, I could. But, I was not obligated to do them. I have spent the last few years constantly having my hand in the pot called my children's lives, filling in the gaps when needed and being completely unhappy about it. I loved being a leader but didn't love the politics of it. I kinda like the idea that next year it will just be the kids and I doing things on our own, at our own pace, own desires. C was right. I need a break. If the children want to continue they can. We just aren't going to be the leaders. We will be the parents who can help when needed and step back when we're too busy. What an incredible feeling that will be.

Labor Day Weekend means labor right?

This weekend was spent laboring. We cleaned out the garage, organizing the kids' toys. Sadly, we aren't finished with the garage yet as we still have the tools to deal with. I am finishing up with the laundry--another thing I have fallen behind on. In addition to my normal loads, it's my annual "trying to save the stained" clothes. So, it requires 3 hours of soaking in a chemical concoction (which I hate using) and then washing them. The ones that still don't pass end up in a bag full of stained clothes I plan to use as fabric scraps for various projects. I just don't see the point in letting things go to waste. Reuse, reduce, recycle, right?


Today is Monday, and in our household that means school. We don't take holiday breaks off because if we need flexibility I don't like the idea of falling behind. So, we did the full course loads. G really liked geography and did half her workbook! This kept her pretty busy so that we could get the ceiling up in the upstairs hallway--a MUST--before winter. C is going to mud and smooth, then hang a ceiling fan. It hopefully will be much nicer upstairs after tonight!

Potty Training Adventures

I have posted several times we were potty training E. But, then I wasn't consistent. I never pushed. I only encouraged. I didn't go through the steps of asking if he had to potty, and got bored with the training half way through the day. The moment he made several messes in a row, I put a diaper on him and was done.

Yesterday, he showed interest again. I decided because Hurricane Irene was ravaging the coast and we were going to be slightly affected by this weather, we can really pursue potty training. If E actually successfully completed his weekend training, I can thank Hurricane Irene. Considering my husband's grandmother's name was Irene, it may even be a sweet thing to say it was her helping me as my guardian angel.

I should say the only reason I don't like diapers is the cost. I don't mind changing him--I barely do it now with him having three older sisters who do it as soon as they see a need. And part of me is sad because this is the goodbye to babyhood in our household forever. However, I cannot stunt his phases in life. Ultimately, he'll need to be potty trained. A 20 year old in diapers will be looked at funny, now won't it? I remember feeling the same way with G who was potty trained before I knew I was pregnant with E. I had thought she was my last for a few years--possibly forever.

Day 1 of The GREAT POTTY TRAINING ADVENTURE: I do not believe in bribing children with food. But, I think by the time I hit child #4, I really just want this to happen in the weekend and be done. So, I am bribing Everett with malt balls (yes, I'm a bad parent..I went through 3 girls and never bribed)...he never made it to the potty...we had a puddle at the lunch table (I should say nice spray as apparently, boys shoot pee across the room when they are naked (the way I train is no clothes) so we dug out the Thomas underoos I bought to reward his potty training and they were a hit!

Day 2 of The GREAT POTTY TRAINING ADVENTURE: E woke up and was changed. But by 10am he asked to go potty. He really wanted the malt balls. On day 2, malt balls are not rewarded for merely asking to go potty, but when peeing actually occurs. So, I tossed a fruit loop into the toilet, told him to aim, and a little pee came out. He was promptly rewarded with a malt ball and Thomas Underoos. He was ecstatic.

Cause & Effect

So, what happens when you leave two five year olds alone for a few minutes (first thing, it was quiet, should have known)? Actually, one was 4 so I have to say my 5 year old, being 6 months older should have known better. Anyway, our cat likes to sleep in the sink. I'm guessing it's cooler. The irony is she fits in, curled up, perfectly.

Well, the story goes the girls wanted to give her water. So, they did. Then they decided, after she went poop, that she needed to take a bath. So, they did.

And they continued to bathe her until the entire bathroom was flooded.

Knowing she needed to be dried off, they used toilet paper. This is about when big sisters walked in and came down the stairs to tell us moms.

To give the girls the benefit, they were willing to clean up the mess.

Where does all my Time Go?

Much like money, time is elusive to me. I am not sure by the end of the day what I did, how it seemed so squandered away. And, "squandered" seems the appropriate word because by the end of the day, I collapse on the couch and think what did I finish? What have I accomplished? I can honestly say "I don't know."

So, I am recording my time. I am marking what I am doing every second of the day in hopes to see how I spend time. Just like a money diary, a time diary, I hope, will reveal how to find more time. When you record your money and find out you spend $200 a month of coffee, you simply can find a cheaper way to have coffee--or quit drinking coffee. So, I am hoping I can find the "coffee" of my time.

The theory is my exhaustion, feeling of squandered time, stress are all symptoms of poor time management. Simply put: I do not know how to manage my time well.

Sometimes, in an argument, my husband complains he doesn't work enough because I demand that he does things at home. I can walk into other people's homes and they seem at peace, have completed projects and are happy. Chris and I fight about time. Time and Money. So, we need to figure out how to manage it. The goal is at the end of 2010, we'd accomplish simplicity.

The first thing to blame would be that we homeschool, the children do sports and activities and we run around everywhere. I'm getting frustrated because I am not sure how to balance it all. Chris does maybe 2 hours of work at home--he's tracking his time too--and still feels like he doesn't do work enough. It's even more frustrating because somehow in one day I am expected to do these things: cook, organize the children's activities, take the children to their activities, feed the children, clean the house, teach the children, shop, and write (I am often told I am sabotaging my career by not finding the time to do it). Last year, add my job and you had a really crazy schedule. Balancing all of this is extremely difficult. You noticed I have nothing for myself? I have nothing that would equate dating my husband? I have nothing that feels like anything but work. Instead, it seems most of my conversation or experience with Chris is fighting. Our discussions lead to fighting. I honestly wonder: were we always like this? And, then, debate if we should have gotten married if we were this intense.

A weekend

I had a brilliant idea! The schedule of children are obnoxious. You should see what my children have in terms of free time and they are home- schooled! They technically should not be so booked. I contemplated this but have it up for debate because so many people are opposed to the socialization of home school children. In reality, my children are probably more socialized than the average child. How much time at school is truly spent for socializing? Seriously. 2 fifteen minutes recesses (if the child is lucky. With the state standardized tests recesses seem to be the past) and a 30 minute lunch. When I was in school, we ate lunch and then got to go outside to recess. Not the case for my own daughter. Yes, the children are sitting in a class with other children. Yes, they are with THEM but how many of them actually play with them after school? So, I am not worried about socialization. Seriously, I remember playing with kids, not specific children. My girls have that. I'm not worried. I have contemplated the idea of removing the children--for one year--of all obligations and just going with the flow. No lessons. No activities. Just being a family, doing old fashioned family things. It's a thought I have been pondering very much lately. So many people blog about a year without television, the year of soul searching. Why not a year of just cutting off the world and being a family? Wouldn't that be incredible? After all, when did it become about pushing your 10 year old out the door for every activity under the sun and less about just being a child? Sadly, this seems impossible in the modern world.

Cobra Mission: The Rescue of the fish

A few weeks ago, Hubby had a brilliant idea: to cheer up the pet turtle he brought home about 10 goldfish.


He's done this before. The turtle gobbled the fish up. Nothing was said.


But right before Christmas our 4 year old G became obsessed with wanting a pet fish. It was in the plans for her to get one, but then (as 4 year olds do) she decided the nice "cheap" fish gift would be replaced by a wish for an American Girl doll. So, the AG doll won. Partly because if the fish didn't come turtle food, I wasn't seeing it survive the cats.


Stripes, the turtle, have not eaten these "gifts".


This morning, I overheard G, M & K discussing the secret rescue of at least one fish from the impending death of becoming fish food. This was, of course, after she asked for a visit to the pet store and I said "no"(after not getting a fish for Christmas decided she was going to save all her money for one and enter the turtle food) .


The first thought that popped in my head was : I married a smart, smart man. He at least goes to work. He does not have listen to how G really, really wants a fish and how upset she is if Stripes eats one of the fish.


Nope. Did I mentioned he gets dressed, packs up his laptop and goes into work? leaving me home with the 4 children to take care of their every need--including school?


The least he could do is not bring home live food--especially the type that our 4 year old wishes upon a star to have as a pet--for turtle food. The irony is that he considers our chickens to be pets, too. He bought a heat lamp for them! Shouldn't they be food?


The good thing is the children have yet to figure out how to scoop the fish and keep it safe from the cats. So, the cobra mission was thwarted until next time.

Christmas

I cannot believe Christmas is so close! We already did all of our shopping--finishing it up on black friday! I even have the tree up. C declared this year we aren't going to get out the ornaments (I completely am in agreement--E would be climbing the tree anyway) since the girls are loving the hobby of paper-making after Grandma's visit. She taught them how to make paper chains. And, they are quite creative! So, our tree will be decorated with the paper chains this year!

M very much wants a doctor kit. She gathers up band-aids and carried them in a little purse. I mentioned this to my mom and she decided she'd sew scrubs and a coat and buy the kit. But after looking around, the most realistic kit just seemed pricey at $49.99 for what it offered--paper cardboard cut outs. The one thing that she liked about it was the stethoscope was metal and real, and the x-rays. So, I started to search the web and started to create my own doctor kit. Mom will be making the bag (my poor mom gets suckered into these things, but she's an awesome seamstress!).

I created a Rx prescription bad on microsoft office. In publisher I created a medical school diploma for her (she graduated summa cum laude from Fairytale University). I printed these out. E just broke his foot so we had the cd of x-rays and I printed on transparencies his x-ray (placing at the tops "From the imaging office of Dr.....") and searched the web for a few more x-rays. I also found an eye chart which I promptly printed on cardstock (several kinds). I found a "patient" chart online for dramatic play and printed off several copies. Mom will find the rest but these are basically the things that should be included:

• box of band-aids (1.00)
• tongue depressors (1.00)
• q-tips (1.00)
• cotton balls (1.00)
• stethoscope (3.50)
• light pen (2.50)
• otoscope (3.50)
• ace bandage (1.00)
• clipboard
• electric thermometer (I found a forehead one for $9.99 at Walmart)
• blood pressure cuffs (5.00)

I was surprised at how inexpensive the equipment was online for "real" doctor stuff.

Toilets are so much fun!

My son loves the toilet. It would be a wonderful thing, don't you think? My beautiful 18 month old loves the toilet. Does this mean he uses the toilet? Well, sorta. It's a place we put cars in, books in, cds in, dvds in, toilet rolls in (full ones that sisters like to pile on the back of the toilet bowel), and just about anything he can find goes into the toilet. So the other day when I had to fish a car out of the toilet K comes up to me and says, "Well at least he didn't put a kitten in there?"


I ask, questionably (and thinking has he tried to put a cat in): What do you mean, K?


K: A girl (deep sigh of relief) in Australia made the news (because at 9 K loves the news) because she put a kitten in the toilet.


Me: Well, let's not give your brother any ideas, okay?

Breaking Bones

Not much of a post, but I keep forgetting to mention that E has broken a foot. Poor little man is like a hobbling weeble wobble. He tries to do everything he used to do. I'm impressed. I never thought that someone could be so mobile in a cast. Of course, changing diapers is harder!

This is where we live! We live here!

I took my daughters into the polls with me. I have done this ever since they were little. I piled up the three girls and we discussed why it is important to vote. M was all set to vote until K informed her she wasn't old enough. So, M started to name all the people who were old enough.

I am a democrat. C is a republican. We cross issues a lot. Our voting status is really based on what issues are more important. While we believe in the same issues, I hold more weight on education and environment than I believe he does. He holds more weight on government policy and spending. We both strongly respect each other's opinion and if we have difficulty voting for someone in our party we discuss it. I love this about our relationship.

I tease the girls that they need to be more democrat, but in reality they are given 50/50 split on opinions. I think C and I have influenced each other a ton in positive ways. I have been in many debates because I strongly believe in a separation of church and state. If we are going to bring a religion lesson into the classroom, then the classroom better have all the world religions in it. It can't be done. There's too much of a split in just what people believe Christianity is. It's not that I am afraid my children will be swayed one way, it's that I don't think "saving a child's soul" should be the lessons taught in a school. In our area, it's called "Bible release". Children are allowed to go during the day to a local church and be given religion lessons. The teachers in our district are told to not teach during that hour--even if there are children in the class not given permission for bible release--because it's not fair to the "release" kids. It's pure bullying. They are cutting out swimming, orchestra, and other programs because they worry about test scores. I have a suggestion: cut bible release as a school time activity and move it to an after-school program.

As I voted, I explained what each position was, why I voted the way I did, and then they received their stickers. G took her stickers and announced, pointing to an American flag, "This is where we live! We live here!"

It's one of those wonderful homeschooling moments when you think--really, did I just give these girls a lesson? It's also just a wonderful parent moment.

The Zingers of a 4 year old

G has always been our entertainer, wild child. We joke that she'll go to college and be the class clown. Well, since she's in our classroom she is our class clown. This weekend she broke into a lot of zingers that just had us rolling. Here the top two (actually the two I can remember--I really need to keep a piece of paper and pencil handy):

1. C and G were in the car running around and doing errands. C told G that they were going to Mikies for the soccer party. He was trying to explain that this is where she's had ice cream. She starts to argue that, no, McDonald's is where she has ice cream. (I think we went to Mikie's once when she was either a baby or wasn't born...and in addition, we were going to Tony's, a pizza place, not Mikie's). G suddenly stopped to think about where she's has had ice cream.
G: Brain, work brain, work.
C: What's wrong with your brain?
G: It needs new batteries.

2. We were trick or treating. G says to C: Daddy, why are all these people giving me candy?
C: Because it's Halloween.
G: It's Halloween? Cool!

These moments are my absolute favorite! They make all the hard parts of parenting so worth it!

I found the Cleaning Fairy!

I was in for my annual check-up and had to wait. So, I grabbed a magazine. I can't remember the magazine's name, but it had an article about how to make life easier for mom. Every magazine has one of these articles, they come under such titles as: "How to Get Organized in 30 seconds or less", "The 30-minute Meal", "How to get your kids to behave" because somehow Moms just don't know how to do it. They tote themselves as "Family Magazines" so you'd think articles would address Dads, but usually those articles are cute ones about how great and awesome Dads are! I am sure they did all the market analysis needed to know their target audience is a working mom between the ages of 25-45 (because most of these magazines also talk about how busy you are after a long day's work). There is an injustice (although I am noticing a bigger change among my generation--Dads are more active). Moms are expected to work all day and come home to the "second shift". So, any help in this avenue is needed, I guess.

I'm not a working mom. No, I stay at home and need help getting my house organized, kids behave, and how to cook that perfect 30 minute meal.

My biggest problem is cleaning. Especially, the kids' rooms. I need their room to stay clean, for my own sense of peace. So, one blurb in the article (it was readers who sent in their suggestions) jumped out at me: a mom mentioned the cleaning fairy.

The cleaning fairy?

Yes, the cleaning fairy!

I have heard about the tooth fairy, Santa Claus, and Easter Bunny, but never a cleaning fairy! And, this marvelous woman talked about there being such a person! I know when my friends are on facebook, and frustrated or exhausted from cleaning, they do beg for her. No one mentioned actually finding her! So, I thought she was only in our dreams.

NO! She does exist!

But she doesn't clean for you. DARN, right?

NO, she motivates ("how to motivate your kids" is another good article by these family-oriented magazines) your kids to clean for you!

SWEET JUSTICE from cleaning up after their spit-up, stepping on their toys and hurting your foot, and wiping poopy butts for all those years? I say so.

So, here's how she works:
If a room is clean, she leaves presents for the kids. WAIT! Isn't this bribery? No, it's positive reinforcement. Bribery is bad. Positive reinforcement is good. This is no different than telling them Santa will not visit unless they are good all year. The cleaning fairy serves a purpose I'm telling you!

Here's my twist (making it more positive reinforcement...SEE?): The children don't know when the cleaning fairy will come. She doesn't necessary come every day. But, she definitely won't come if your room has ever been messy since her last visit. I'm shameless.

My children have been cleaning and checking their room every day. Yesterday, the fairy brought them suckers. Today, they rushed around and cleaned their room. Holy smokes! They are actually doing it without my asking? Yelling? Threatening? This woman is brilliant!

I'm not naive. The nostalgia of the cleaning fairy will wear off and the girls will stop cleaning. But, for even a week of not fighting works for me. Now, let's see, who should visit next? The hygiene fairy?

Where's the Cleaning Fairies when we need them?

My girls woke C and I up today with breakfast in bed. It was a 5 star meal of celery and crackers shaped into a smile. I remember making romantic dinners for my parents where we would pretend we were a five-star restaurant. I am loving the fact that this aspect of childhood didn't end with my own.

Today, the girls did a little bit of work. I needed to clean so their work was very much on the independent side. When they were done, they spent the rest of the time trying to put puzzles together so we can see if we have all the pieces.

A friend posted that she is in search of cleaning fairies. I often wonder if there will be a day the children will scurry around the house and clean as a "surprise" like they make meals. I surely hope this aspect of childhood isn't gone with my own. It will be nice the day the fairies arrive.

Maybe, I can put my feet up and read a book then.

A funny thing happened on the way to the Zoo

As always, we ran late. Seriously, when can I get my act together? But, even though we woke up on time, C and I had a fight, therefore, making me late. Luckily, as I climbed into the Odyssey and turned on the GPS, it declared I’d be at my destination—C’s Cousin’s house (and then the DC Zoo)—right on time. Whew! We’re not going to be late after all. Well, provided traffic wasn’t harrowing, and DC traffic is notorious for being harrowing no matter what time of day your stuck in it.

As we passed by Hagerstown's exit I thought to myself about how great traffic was for us. Even when the GPS marked a delay, we didn’t hit it. Of course, we were 15 miles from 270 so I knew we’d hit traffic then. But, as we started climbing the mountain, just miles from the Myersville rest area--made notorious for being "the spot where the DC Sniper was apprehended", my van sputtered. I put it into third gear, praying it just needed an extra boost to get up the mountain. It sputtered, spattered, and tried like the little engine that could, but to no avail. The van stopped, in the middle of the road, of I70, a busy highway.

Luckily, I managed to get it halfway onto the meridian. I knew I wasn't far enough off the highway. The girls kept asking why the van was rocking when a car passed us. I promised them we wouldn't tip over. No, my fear was we were going to get hit by a careless driver. I took a deep breath, started tried to start the van every few minutes, until, finally, it started and coasted a little further off the road. Not perfectly safe, but better than before.

Now, I could call my husband.

He called a tow truck and had us conference into a 911 dispatcher so I could relay my location.

They told me they were trying to determine what county l was in--Washington or Frederick--for the police to locate me.

A state policeman arrived soon after. A nice man, who tried to help by playing Superman. He put my car in "neutral" and then asked me to climb in and guide the car. One push, no movement. Two push, no movement. I was pretty sure the car hadn't shifted into neutral--it wouldn't when I tried several times--but he gave it a third try before he gave up. Yes, cops don’t have super powers, despite popular beliefs. They cannot move a van that refuses to budge.


"The kids must have been too heavy. Is this what they meant by junk in my trunk?" I told him.


The cop didn't smile. I learned quickly that on duty policemen don't have much of a sense of humor. (I have friends who are state police who seem to be able to crack a joke here and there so this must be a on-duty phenomena because every police man I have encountered on duty have been very serious. Even the one who made us wait 15 minutes while I was in labor. And sent us away with a warning and lecture about speeding! Yes! No police escort to the hospital. I'm scrapbooking that warning.) In his professional state, he called back-up, explaining the more modern cars have rods on the front to push off degenerate vans who refuse to cave into the police officer's super human powers.


We waited. As we waited I called back C to talk about tow trucks while the officer went back to his car. I looked up and screamed, “Oh God it’s out of control!”—a red truck was spinning—am I in an action movie, how did I get here?—right at my van and the police car.


What to do?


The kids were strapped safely in their car seats (yes, for some reason I thought having them remain in their straps in the car was the safest route to go. I had visions of G running across the highway if I allowed them out of the van). There’s no time like screaming—yeah, didn’t you know screaming could stop motion? It definitely slowed it down.


And sobbing helps too because that's what I did. I just started to sob. If he hit us, there was going to be injury, possibly death, no doubt. But I couldn’t see how it wouldn’t hit us. It was going to take out the cop car and then us. I prayed for it to stop. I prayed that if it was going to do anything, it needed to stop.


I looked for the cop. The truck spun and struck his car, and all I saw was the cop fly (I was wrong, cops do have super powers) into the air and into the ditch. I knew by instincts he has propelled himself—it wasn’t the impact of the truck or anything. I just stood in awe as this massive red truck halted right at the edge of the police car. All other cars managed to avert hitting him. No major car pile up. No hitting the minivan full of four darling children. The news headline would not read: Cop & Family of five killed by uncontrolled vehicle.


I told my husband (later he said unintelligibly) what had just happened in between sobs. I climbed back into my van and tried to start it. Hey, angels were looking out for us…I had to try. No luck. I accepted my sacrifice of the dead car.


Meanwhile, we had seven cops swarm onto the scene. They kept asking one question after another and then going off to talk. Then more questions (the same one…look, I didn’t see WHY the truck was spinning and no matter how many times you asked, I am not going to see it) and then off again. Then, it became “where’s your tow?” I don’t know. Call them. They did. But, no tow. Chris’s friend Matt was on the scene and then C with a rental van. They took care of the tow while I piled the children into the van and headed to C’s cousin’s house. I arrived 1 ½ hours late.


Damn, the GPS lied to me.