I never realized I'd end up in my 30's so quickly, you know that age that teens no longer really notice you and if they do, it's not usually for a flattering reason. Well, here I am. I arrived with 3 kids and a husband who's edging ever closer to the big 4-0. Thing is, I wouldn't go back for all the money in the world. Wait, I think I spoke too fast on that one. Maybe for all the money in the world, but that's where I draw the line.
I look back and cringe at some of the bad choices I made and while I miss my old figure - the one that didn't immediately register a bowl of ice cream, but did respond to an occasional work-out - I'm more in love with my wisdom and maturity than anything else. Not as if I'm the wise old owl who knows all, but I find I handle situations much better than I used to.
I remember my first child's first birthday party and even though I had a house full of people who came to celebrate, I obsessed about the ones who did not show up. Why aren't they here? Didn't they realize this was a big occasion? I went to their kids' parties, how could they dare to not reciprocate? It's as though I took every little detail as a personal offense.
While I may not handle everything with grace today, I certainly have completely and fully gotten over the "party" offenses. I'm hoping I'm not alone in this, otherwise I'm exposing a part of myself that should perhaps be written in a diary instead of a public vehicle. I'm hoping there are several of you out there who have been ridiculously offended about something in the past that today would just roll right off your back. It's THAT which I would not trade for all the money in the world. The wisdom, maturity and understanding that comes with experience and time...even though time and I are not exactly friends.
So, here I am, oozing with wisdom and maturity! In October, I will hit my 10-yr Mom mark, which will also mark a decade of surviving off one paycheck. However, the past couple months have brought about many changes. In August, my youngest child started Kindergarten. I had two weeks of no kids, no college and no husband. I had grand plans to organize my life, tackling closets and piles of paper. Unfortunately, it was within those two weeks that I made up for all the times I wanted to just "veg" when my kids were home, but couldn't. I did accomplish a few things, but overall that 2 week hiatus ended up being a vacation of old movies, naps and lounging.
My vacation came to an abrupt end as I headed off to my first day of Nursing school. Since I've had a long break from a 9 hour day away from home, the two full days at school took a bit getting used to. I'm now over a little month into it and am adjusting fairly well, I think. I prep the night before (imagine cramming your fridge with 4 lunchboxes - it's kind of funny!) and try to plan easy dinners for my days away from home. This new chapter of my life brings a lot of joy as well as moments of intense stress. Stress about a sick kid, managing my homework and their homework, juggling sports, field trips, teacher conferences (which have all fallen on days when I'm at school!) and housework. Nursing programs are notorious for having high fail rates, so that's swimming in the back of my mind and adding a bit of pressure. After all, I hate to put myself and my family through this and then not get my license in the end.
If my life were a novel, this college chapter would have fallen right after Chapter 1 but instead got inserted around Chapter 4 or 5, after having gotten hitched, moved around, had 3 lovely babies, matured, bought a home and settled down. The Master Editor has adjusted the chapters of my life to fall in the order that they have and I can only trust that His plan is the best one for my life.
Next possible chapter: Paycheck.
Enjoy your loves and thanks for reading!
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Is It a Condition or Boy-Syndrome?
I'm not sure if it's because my first child was a girl that perhaps I grew a deluded idea of what children were like, but now, 7 years later, I'm still flabbergasted daily by my son and his need for constant reminders. It's to the point that I'm wondering if there's an underlying medical condition going on in which a memory muncher gobbles up the info the moment he says, "Okay, Mom!" and then munch, crunch, swallow the info is quickly disposed of.
We decided on Monday that Ayden, the 7-yr-old in question, does not need to play Wii before school in the mornings, due to the reaction he has when it's time to shut it off. I worry about gaming addiction and I'm pretty sure he's a prime candidate for it. He gets very emotional about his gaming time and could probably play - literally - all day, foregoing food and drink. I have woken up at 5:30 a.m. to him already up and playing, which is concerning considering that he takes after his dad and I generally have to drag him out of bed.
That being said, and getting back to my original topic, the first words out of his mouth on Tuesday were, "Can I play Wii this morning?" His bright blue eyes hopeful until I answered and popped his dreams, his eyes filling instantly with tears. Today he tried a different tactic: "Did you mean that I couldn't play Wii yesterday morning, but that today it's okay?" Uh, no, what I said was, "You are not allowed to play Wii in the mornings before school. Period." Again with the disappointed reaction. He's been warned that he's now at risk now of losing it for an extended period of time...like until next summer.
So that's one example of his forgetfulness, but what really throws me for a loop is the, "Ayden, go wash your breakfast off your face," and off he runs to accomplish this goal. Minutes later I discover that his face is just as dirty as it was before he ran off. "Ayden, why didn't you wash your face?" A quick look of startled remembrance occurs and off he runs again. Really? You forgot in your run to the bathroom the very reason why you were running there? Look, I might end up looking around a room totally lost and confused about why I'm in the room, but I'm 33 with 3 kids, a husband and tons of responsibility...besides this blog isn't about me.
This morning he dressed himself in camouflage pants and a lime green shirt. "Go change into shorts," I said, "you don't match." He came out wearing khaki pants, but since they matched I held my tongue because I'm very aware of how many times I correct the poor kid and I don't want to give him a complex. Yesterday he had to change his socks THREE times - first tall black ones, then tall white ones and then finally ankle socks (you know, the appropriate kind when you're wearing shorts).
This constant forgetfulness happens with putting shoes on, picking up toys, washing hands, brushing teeth, eating breakfast...just about any instructions I give him are at risk of being forgotten the moment it enters his mind. We've even loaded into the car with NO SHOES on him before and his defense is a quick shoulder shrug and a quiet, "I forgot."
This morning all the kids had a dentist appointments so they were late for school. We unloaded at the school and are walking up the sidewalk and my oldest says to Ayden, "Get your backpack!" Sure enough, his sisters each have their backpacks on but he left his in the car. Granted, I didn't tell him to get it, I figured it was kind of obvious that he would need it.
So is this just a "boy thing"? I've endured the ER visits, the extra-watchful eye to ensure he doesn't jump from the highest point of the swing set and the need for speed, but is this forgetfulness a trademark condition of boyhood or is it something I need to pay closer attention to, that perhaps it does mean that something isn't connecting in that mind of his?
Being a mom is the best job I've ever had, though I live with the certainty that I'm not qualified for this task of raising children to become self-sufficient adults. After all, if I can't properly relay to my child that he has chocolate smeared all over his face that he needs to go wash off, how can I think that one day he'll be able to drive a car, use a grill (oh my word, what a terrifying thought!!!) and raise a family of his own?
Love 'em while they'll still let you and thanks for reading!
We decided on Monday that Ayden, the 7-yr-old in question, does not need to play Wii before school in the mornings, due to the reaction he has when it's time to shut it off. I worry about gaming addiction and I'm pretty sure he's a prime candidate for it. He gets very emotional about his gaming time and could probably play - literally - all day, foregoing food and drink. I have woken up at 5:30 a.m. to him already up and playing, which is concerning considering that he takes after his dad and I generally have to drag him out of bed.
That being said, and getting back to my original topic, the first words out of his mouth on Tuesday were, "Can I play Wii this morning?" His bright blue eyes hopeful until I answered and popped his dreams, his eyes filling instantly with tears. Today he tried a different tactic: "Did you mean that I couldn't play Wii yesterday morning, but that today it's okay?" Uh, no, what I said was, "You are not allowed to play Wii in the mornings before school. Period." Again with the disappointed reaction. He's been warned that he's now at risk now of losing it for an extended period of time...like until next summer.
So that's one example of his forgetfulness, but what really throws me for a loop is the, "Ayden, go wash your breakfast off your face," and off he runs to accomplish this goal. Minutes later I discover that his face is just as dirty as it was before he ran off. "Ayden, why didn't you wash your face?" A quick look of startled remembrance occurs and off he runs again. Really? You forgot in your run to the bathroom the very reason why you were running there? Look, I might end up looking around a room totally lost and confused about why I'm in the room, but I'm 33 with 3 kids, a husband and tons of responsibility...besides this blog isn't about me.
This morning he dressed himself in camouflage pants and a lime green shirt. "Go change into shorts," I said, "you don't match." He came out wearing khaki pants, but since they matched I held my tongue because I'm very aware of how many times I correct the poor kid and I don't want to give him a complex. Yesterday he had to change his socks THREE times - first tall black ones, then tall white ones and then finally ankle socks (you know, the appropriate kind when you're wearing shorts).
This constant forgetfulness happens with putting shoes on, picking up toys, washing hands, brushing teeth, eating breakfast...just about any instructions I give him are at risk of being forgotten the moment it enters his mind. We've even loaded into the car with NO SHOES on him before and his defense is a quick shoulder shrug and a quiet, "I forgot."
This morning all the kids had a dentist appointments so they were late for school. We unloaded at the school and are walking up the sidewalk and my oldest says to Ayden, "Get your backpack!" Sure enough, his sisters each have their backpacks on but he left his in the car. Granted, I didn't tell him to get it, I figured it was kind of obvious that he would need it.
So is this just a "boy thing"? I've endured the ER visits, the extra-watchful eye to ensure he doesn't jump from the highest point of the swing set and the need for speed, but is this forgetfulness a trademark condition of boyhood or is it something I need to pay closer attention to, that perhaps it does mean that something isn't connecting in that mind of his?
Being a mom is the best job I've ever had, though I live with the certainty that I'm not qualified for this task of raising children to become self-sufficient adults. After all, if I can't properly relay to my child that he has chocolate smeared all over his face that he needs to go wash off, how can I think that one day he'll be able to drive a car, use a grill (oh my word, what a terrifying thought!!!) and raise a family of his own?
Love 'em while they'll still let you and thanks for reading!
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Stretching a Dollar
Really, only 4 weeks left of summer? And to think that I had planned to have a fantastic summer for my kids, which really amounted to allowing them to swim their hearts out in the backyard. No, not in an in-ground pool, silly, but in a metal-frame liner pool that has decided to start leaking. Still, it's fun because it gets them wet and wears them out.
The biggest problem I'm having with the 6 week summer here is the lack of funding. I think that's the most common denominator of my life. No money or, more accurately, not enough money. As a stay-at-home mom for going on 10 years, I've learned to stretch the dollar just about as far as it can without ripping it in two. With back-to-school just around the corner, it's not the time to blast through cash when two of the kids need new backpacks, all need new shoes, all will need an insane amount of school supplies and I like to treat the kids to at least one new fashionable back-to-school outfit. Yeah, I'm one heck of a crazy spender, eh?
When I consider that we have 3 lovely kids, a nice 4-bedroom house, 3 cars (okay, they all have over 100,000 miles but no one's counting except me!) and are doing it all on one paycheck, I can't help but applaud myself for surviving the stay-at-home crunch. We knew it would be hard going into it, but we've done quite well. This fall all three of my kids will be in public school, gulp, and I will enter into a 2-yr-nursing program, which means that my time at home is on countdown mode. It's a surreal position. I never thought I'd get to this point and honestly I never wanted to. If God would grant me the request to rewind the time back to the birth of my first child, I'd do it in a heartbeat, as being a young mom and raising three amazing, healthy kids has been the highlight of my life.
However, I'm not as sad as I thought I'd be. I thought I'd be teary eyed and wistful, considering the last of my babies is about to head off to the Kindergarten. I'm a little excited, really, not to the point that I'm ready to shove them all out the door and deadbolt it behind them, but excited for the next chapter and not dreading it the way that I thought I would. In two years, God-willing, I'll have a job that actually pays money. What a crazy idea that is!
Looking back at the hardest years of buying diapers and looking at my current situation, here is a little list of money saving tips that made the biggest impact:
The biggest problem I'm having with the 6 week summer here is the lack of funding. I think that's the most common denominator of my life. No money or, more accurately, not enough money. As a stay-at-home mom for going on 10 years, I've learned to stretch the dollar just about as far as it can without ripping it in two. With back-to-school just around the corner, it's not the time to blast through cash when two of the kids need new backpacks, all need new shoes, all will need an insane amount of school supplies and I like to treat the kids to at least one new fashionable back-to-school outfit. Yeah, I'm one heck of a crazy spender, eh?
When I consider that we have 3 lovely kids, a nice 4-bedroom house, 3 cars (okay, they all have over 100,000 miles but no one's counting except me!) and are doing it all on one paycheck, I can't help but applaud myself for surviving the stay-at-home crunch. We knew it would be hard going into it, but we've done quite well. This fall all three of my kids will be in public school, gulp, and I will enter into a 2-yr-nursing program, which means that my time at home is on countdown mode. It's a surreal position. I never thought I'd get to this point and honestly I never wanted to. If God would grant me the request to rewind the time back to the birth of my first child, I'd do it in a heartbeat, as being a young mom and raising three amazing, healthy kids has been the highlight of my life.
However, I'm not as sad as I thought I'd be. I thought I'd be teary eyed and wistful, considering the last of my babies is about to head off to the Kindergarten. I'm a little excited, really, not to the point that I'm ready to shove them all out the door and deadbolt it behind them, but excited for the next chapter and not dreading it the way that I thought I would. In two years, God-willing, I'll have a job that actually pays money. What a crazy idea that is!
Looking back at the hardest years of buying diapers and looking at my current situation, here is a little list of money saving tips that made the biggest impact:
- Don't keep up with others. Sometimes you have to let friendships go that pressure you into making purchases, always eating out, always shopping, always spending, spending, spending.
- Pay attention to your grocery bill. I plan 2-weeks worth of dinner ideas, clip coupons and shop accordingly. The menu planning made the single biggest impact on our grocery bill.
- Budget everything, except for a small amount of spending money. Gas, groceries, utilities, clothing, entertainment, etc. If you have to, go to the envelope method which is when you take X number of envelopes, write what their use is for and put the allotted amount of cash in each. This is a good wake-up call for a lot of people. When you go to the grocery store with $200 cash and no back-up plan, such as a debit or credit card, you will be much more careful about what you throw in your cart!
- Learn how to say "No" to your kids and stick to it.
- Rent movies and only go to the theater for really special shows.
- Watch how often you eat out...consider how much that $30 price-tag would have bought at a grocery store.
- Accept all hand-me-downs. Accepting doesn't mean you have to keep them all! Keep what you like and pass the rest along.
- Be aware of recurring monthly charges, as they add up really quickly. Make a list and see who you're paying and why. Ask if you think it's worth it and go from there.
- Save up for big purchases. In the long run, you'll appreciate it more if you had to wait 8 months pinching penny's versus charging it in an insant, plus you'll be exercising your discipline for future purchases.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Sports Mania
It mostly my fault, I get it. I've succumbed to the pressure of sports. It started last year with t-ball/softball and has leaked over into the fall season to encompass football and cheerleading. You know those people who you invite somewhere and their response is always, "Sorry, we have a game," or "Can't do it, we have practice." Well, I've become one of them.
The thing I hate the most about the sports deal are the running, running, running. Poor Shawn left work twice that week and came directly to the practice field. The great news is all three of our kids have the same practice time at the same field. While Ayden's tackling (or trying to dodge being tackled) the girls are learning their cheers.
Aside from the extra-stress of having yet another "thing" added to my list, I believe I have come to pinpoint why I'm relishing in the sports pool. Aside from the obvious of introducing kids to teamwork, skill and exercise, it forces family time. We are out there watching our kids and cheering them on, versus being at home with everybody doing their own thing. As much as I hate to admit it, I need a little forced family time out of the house with my kiddos.
If you are sitting on the sidelines wondering if you can handle the extra job of practices and games, I can tell you that for me it's been totally worth it. I dragged my heels forever, not wanting to become "one of them," because I didn't want sports to rule my life, but now I'm seeing that it doesn't rule it, it helps prioritizes it. I'm not saying that sports are the priority, I'm saying that the family is and that sports can help enhance that.
The thing I hate the most about the sports deal are the running, running, running. Poor Shawn left work twice that week and came directly to the practice field. The great news is all three of our kids have the same practice time at the same field. While Ayden's tackling (or trying to dodge being tackled) the girls are learning their cheers.
Aside from the extra-stress of having yet another "thing" added to my list, I believe I have come to pinpoint why I'm relishing in the sports pool. Aside from the obvious of introducing kids to teamwork, skill and exercise, it forces family time. We are out there watching our kids and cheering them on, versus being at home with everybody doing their own thing. As much as I hate to admit it, I need a little forced family time out of the house with my kiddos.
If you are sitting on the sidelines wondering if you can handle the extra job of practices and games, I can tell you that for me it's been totally worth it. I dragged my heels forever, not wanting to become "one of them," because I didn't want sports to rule my life, but now I'm seeing that it doesn't rule it, it helps prioritizes it. I'm not saying that sports are the priority, I'm saying that the family is and that sports can help enhance that.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Say Thank You (or else)
*Disclaimer: sometimes women must get things off their chest before they explode. The words spoken, while true, are often harsher than originally intended because they've been fermenting for days, months, weeks, heck, even years.
Husbands. Oh, yes, husbands.
I don't believe in whining and complaining with a bunch of girlfriends about my husband, because each of us will leave with our teeth bared and a list of "he doesn't do this OR that," with which we hunt our husbands down and use like a whip. However, there are times when I must ascertain that I am not alone with my feelings and that they are also completely normal.
I want to do all the nice things for my family - cook, clean, wash, fold, plan, organize, file - however when it becomes an expectation, I grow cold. I mean frigidly cold. First off, I don't get paid for this job. My currency is appreciation and thank-you's and when that bank runs dry I get nothing and I think, "Why the heck am I going through all this trouble??"
The threats are fun to come up with, but I rarely follow through with any of them. The one time I did, I told my husband that if he couldn't at least put away the clothes that I sorted, washed, dried and folded then I would stop folding them. The deal was if the clothes were still in a folded pile by the next time I did laundry, his clean clothes would be left in the basket. I only had to do it twice before he realized I wasn't kidding, but it was so hard to actually follow through on. The teenager-type punishment felt spiteful. Besides, the lesson didn't last long.
It's difficult when your husband's a great guy who's easy to love. He works hard, provides well, wrestles with the kids, and surprises you with his generosity, but why can't he put forth the little extra effort to show that he really appreciates the work you do on the home front? I just don't get it. The lack of direct appreciation makes me feel like a servant who does a bad job.
Is this just a guy thing or have I enabled my man to get off so easily? I don't have the cut throat personalities of some ladies I know whose husbands' wouldn't even consider not putting in their fair share of the workload. I think it comes down to personality. I have a quirk of either we get along all the way or we don't get along at all. I can't be a little mad at somebody and still want to talk to them. I'm all or none. I don't know what created the personality glitch, but I've had it for as long as I can remember. So when I'm mad at my husband he will usually have no clue what he's done, only that he's getting the full-on silent treatment (remember, won't talk if I'm mad) and then I finally get over it and everything's fine again (all or none.) It's unfair to both of us really.
My reality has been coming in little comments from my 6-year-old son. A couple months ago he said to his dad, "Girls cook and clean for us and we work outside." Fury, fury, red alert!!! That's because that is what he sees! Then last night, my little boy said, "Mom, you're kind of like our waitress." That did it. For my son to see me in that role made me see stars. I had just finished making a rather elaborate, involved meal that I knew I would have to clean up solo (husband working night shift) and as soon as I was done in the kitchen, I fired an unloading email off to my husband. The poor guy.
I woke up to a spotless kitchen and the small, ever present pile of folded clothes were put away too. Did this make me feel better? No!! Why? Because I had to ask to get it. It's only the result of me being pissed off enough to say something. Men, look around your house and do something. Even if it's small, your wife will notice. If she doesn't comment on it - she still notices! Think about all the chores she does around your house and ask yourself, "Do I thank her for each and every time she sweeps/cooks/folds/wipes??" The answer, most assuredly, will be "NO," so don't do what all wives hate and point out your grand accomplishment and expect a standing ovation.
Men and women will forever be different, as we are chemically, physically, emotionally, and mentally different. However, we must learn to co-exist (especially if we're married!) and I don't believe co-existing means one of us learns to "put up with" doing the majority.
To my darling husband, I love you so.
Husbands. Oh, yes, husbands.
I don't believe in whining and complaining with a bunch of girlfriends about my husband, because each of us will leave with our teeth bared and a list of "he doesn't do this OR that," with which we hunt our husbands down and use like a whip. However, there are times when I must ascertain that I am not alone with my feelings and that they are also completely normal.
I want to do all the nice things for my family - cook, clean, wash, fold, plan, organize, file - however when it becomes an expectation, I grow cold. I mean frigidly cold. First off, I don't get paid for this job. My currency is appreciation and thank-you's and when that bank runs dry I get nothing and I think, "Why the heck am I going through all this trouble??"
- I could live for a month off cereal and sandwiches. I wonder how my family would feel about that?
- I could probably splurge and buy enough paper plates, bowls and disposable silverware to last me for a month. Without buying dishwasher detergent, it would be a cost-wash.
- I wonder what it's like just to wash and fold my own clothes?
- Why file papers? I can just shred them and be done with it.
- Who needs a clean toilet if we never have company?
The threats are fun to come up with, but I rarely follow through with any of them. The one time I did, I told my husband that if he couldn't at least put away the clothes that I sorted, washed, dried and folded then I would stop folding them. The deal was if the clothes were still in a folded pile by the next time I did laundry, his clean clothes would be left in the basket. I only had to do it twice before he realized I wasn't kidding, but it was so hard to actually follow through on. The teenager-type punishment felt spiteful. Besides, the lesson didn't last long.
It's difficult when your husband's a great guy who's easy to love. He works hard, provides well, wrestles with the kids, and surprises you with his generosity, but why can't he put forth the little extra effort to show that he really appreciates the work you do on the home front? I just don't get it. The lack of direct appreciation makes me feel like a servant who does a bad job.
Is this just a guy thing or have I enabled my man to get off so easily? I don't have the cut throat personalities of some ladies I know whose husbands' wouldn't even consider not putting in their fair share of the workload. I think it comes down to personality. I have a quirk of either we get along all the way or we don't get along at all. I can't be a little mad at somebody and still want to talk to them. I'm all or none. I don't know what created the personality glitch, but I've had it for as long as I can remember. So when I'm mad at my husband he will usually have no clue what he's done, only that he's getting the full-on silent treatment (remember, won't talk if I'm mad) and then I finally get over it and everything's fine again (all or none.) It's unfair to both of us really.
My reality has been coming in little comments from my 6-year-old son. A couple months ago he said to his dad, "Girls cook and clean for us and we work outside." Fury, fury, red alert!!! That's because that is what he sees! Then last night, my little boy said, "Mom, you're kind of like our waitress." That did it. For my son to see me in that role made me see stars. I had just finished making a rather elaborate, involved meal that I knew I would have to clean up solo (husband working night shift) and as soon as I was done in the kitchen, I fired an unloading email off to my husband. The poor guy.
I woke up to a spotless kitchen and the small, ever present pile of folded clothes were put away too. Did this make me feel better? No!! Why? Because I had to ask to get it. It's only the result of me being pissed off enough to say something. Men, look around your house and do something. Even if it's small, your wife will notice. If she doesn't comment on it - she still notices! Think about all the chores she does around your house and ask yourself, "Do I thank her for each and every time she sweeps/cooks/folds/wipes??" The answer, most assuredly, will be "NO," so don't do what all wives hate and point out your grand accomplishment and expect a standing ovation.
Men and women will forever be different, as we are chemically, physically, emotionally, and mentally different. However, we must learn to co-exist (especially if we're married!) and I don't believe co-existing means one of us learns to "put up with" doing the majority.
To my darling husband, I love you so.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Homesick
My oldest daughter (8) has been at Camp o'The Pines for 4 days now. It's a Christian camp funded and maintained by Pensacola's Christian College. The grounds far exceeded my expectations when we dropped her off and I cannot wait to hear how her experience went. I almost called on Monday to find out how she was doing, but I resisted the impulse.
I expected home-life to be more difficult with her gone, being that she's the oldest and most helpful, so I've been pleasantly surprised that in fact it's been easier. I'm not sure what element she adds, but the house has been quieter and I've not heard, "What are we doing today?" all week! Of course I miss her and think about her constantly, but the other kids have gotten along better and have been entertaining themselves, so I'm not exactly pining away that she's gone (which makes me feel a little guilty).
Yesterday I received a call from the camp nurse who told me that Shaylah developed a rash on one side of her neck, which had spread to the other side and now down her neck. She was calling to get permission to administer Benadryl because Shaylah was complaining that it was itching. I heard what sounded like crying in the background.
"Is she crying?" I asked.
"Well, she's been fine, but I think the itching is driving her crazy," the nurse responded with a laugh.
"Can I talk to her?" I held my breath. The unexpected possibility swamped me with emotion.
"Sure!"
"Mommy? I want to come hooooome," Shaylah's sobbing voice poured into the phone.
Uh-oh, I didn't expect that. "Aren't you having a good time and making friends?"
"Yes, {sob} but I miss you." The crying broke out deeper, as though a dam had broken.
I couldn't help but grin. She missed me!! Somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind I had a small fear of going to pick her up and being told, "No, I want to stay here. It's more fun than at home." It's a legitimate fear, since I'm always told by her that there's nothing to do and that she's bored. But now, alas, doth my ears deceive me?? She misses me??
Keeping my voice brimming with excitement, I poured out all the right questions: Have you gone down the water slides yet? How many times? Even the tube one? No way! We're you scared? Have you made a lot of friends? I cannot wait to hear all about it! You only have 2 days left so make sure you enjoy every minute of it!
By the time we got off the phone, we both felt better. I knew that she was probably a bit homesick, but that her crying spell was born more out of the equation: not feeling good + hearing moms voice. Have you ever held yourself together until you see a certain friend or relative and then you completely fall apart? Like keeping the bravest face possible until you see the person you can crumble in front of? I've done it and sensed that was part of the emotion behind the sobbing and "Come take me home!"
Tomorrow night we go pick her up and I am so excited to hear all about her new friends, new games and experiences. I think I'm most excited to hug her, though, and see her happy.
https://www.campopines.com/script/default.html
I expected home-life to be more difficult with her gone, being that she's the oldest and most helpful, so I've been pleasantly surprised that in fact it's been easier. I'm not sure what element she adds, but the house has been quieter and I've not heard, "What are we doing today?" all week! Of course I miss her and think about her constantly, but the other kids have gotten along better and have been entertaining themselves, so I'm not exactly pining away that she's gone (which makes me feel a little guilty).
Yesterday I received a call from the camp nurse who told me that Shaylah developed a rash on one side of her neck, which had spread to the other side and now down her neck. She was calling to get permission to administer Benadryl because Shaylah was complaining that it was itching. I heard what sounded like crying in the background.
"Is she crying?" I asked.
"Well, she's been fine, but I think the itching is driving her crazy," the nurse responded with a laugh.
"Can I talk to her?" I held my breath. The unexpected possibility swamped me with emotion.
"Sure!"
"Mommy? I want to come hooooome," Shaylah's sobbing voice poured into the phone.
Uh-oh, I didn't expect that. "Aren't you having a good time and making friends?"
"Yes, {sob} but I miss you." The crying broke out deeper, as though a dam had broken.
I couldn't help but grin. She missed me!! Somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind I had a small fear of going to pick her up and being told, "No, I want to stay here. It's more fun than at home." It's a legitimate fear, since I'm always told by her that there's nothing to do and that she's bored. But now, alas, doth my ears deceive me?? She misses me??
Keeping my voice brimming with excitement, I poured out all the right questions: Have you gone down the water slides yet? How many times? Even the tube one? No way! We're you scared? Have you made a lot of friends? I cannot wait to hear all about it! You only have 2 days left so make sure you enjoy every minute of it!
By the time we got off the phone, we both felt better. I knew that she was probably a bit homesick, but that her crying spell was born more out of the equation: not feeling good + hearing moms voice. Have you ever held yourself together until you see a certain friend or relative and then you completely fall apart? Like keeping the bravest face possible until you see the person you can crumble in front of? I've done it and sensed that was part of the emotion behind the sobbing and "Come take me home!"
Tomorrow night we go pick her up and I am so excited to hear all about her new friends, new games and experiences. I think I'm most excited to hug her, though, and see her happy.
https://www.campopines.com/script/default.html
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
The Doctor Says So
Dr. Sarda isn't much bigger than my kids. She has bright blue eyes, quick wit and a no-nonsense way about her. I think she comes to my shoulder. Maybe.
Shaylah's asthma has been acting up and I couldn't get her wheezing until control, so I had to go in and get her some steroids on Monday. Me and the three kids packed up and headed to base. I let them pick their toys - the two youngest chose a coloring book and colors, Shaylah opted for her DS.
I didn't even get a chance to complete my paperwork before they called us back. The kids groaned as I pulled them away from SpongeBob and within minutes we were in the patient room with the doctor. Not bad, eh?
Then it started. Vanessa and Ayden sat in two chairs next to each other. Or we supposed to sit. Vanessa began taking her shoes off and jumping up on the table with Shaylah. I would get on her to get back to the chair and put her shoes back on. I told them both to color in their books, but the toys were left abandoned on the floor. I was trying to answer the doctors questions, but soon both Ayden and Vanessa had their shoes off and were jumping in the middle of the room. I told them firmly to go sit back down; ignored once again. Or I shouldn't say ignored, they listen as I watched, but the second my attention drifted back to the doctor, they did what they wanted to do - jumping around, being nosy, giggling, etc.
It infuriates me when my kids don't listen. It's a horrible reflection on my parenting and shows an inability to control my charges. The doctor even commented, "You look like a mom who's in the middle of summer vacation with her kids." I know she didn't say it to be nasty, but it hurt. I want to enjoy my kids, but how in the world do you enjoy disobedient little monkeys?
Then, as our ability to talk and listen got shorter and shorter, she turned to my two youngest and said, "Get your shoes on and sit down now! I can't talk to your mom when she's distracted by you, because then it distracts me. Now sit there quietly and count to 200 in your head. We'll be down soon." My kids immediately obeyed, I mumbled a thanks and we finished our conversation.
The minute we left my face began burning as the humiliation rose up. Did a doctor truly have to get control of my children for me?? Why don't my kids listen to me? I set my jaw and said, "You're both getting spankings when we get home and then I'm telling your dad about what happened and I hope he spanks you again."
We had three other sit-and-wait excursions that followed (pharmacy, lab, barber shop) and my kids were little angels in the waiting rooms, sitting silently in their chairs in hopes that the Fanny Whacker would not be removed from it's place on the wall.
Their silent obedience did not work.
Shaylah's asthma has been acting up and I couldn't get her wheezing until control, so I had to go in and get her some steroids on Monday. Me and the three kids packed up and headed to base. I let them pick their toys - the two youngest chose a coloring book and colors, Shaylah opted for her DS.
I didn't even get a chance to complete my paperwork before they called us back. The kids groaned as I pulled them away from SpongeBob and within minutes we were in the patient room with the doctor. Not bad, eh?
Then it started. Vanessa and Ayden sat in two chairs next to each other. Or we supposed to sit. Vanessa began taking her shoes off and jumping up on the table with Shaylah. I would get on her to get back to the chair and put her shoes back on. I told them both to color in their books, but the toys were left abandoned on the floor. I was trying to answer the doctors questions, but soon both Ayden and Vanessa had their shoes off and were jumping in the middle of the room. I told them firmly to go sit back down; ignored once again. Or I shouldn't say ignored, they listen as I watched, but the second my attention drifted back to the doctor, they did what they wanted to do - jumping around, being nosy, giggling, etc.
It infuriates me when my kids don't listen. It's a horrible reflection on my parenting and shows an inability to control my charges. The doctor even commented, "You look like a mom who's in the middle of summer vacation with her kids." I know she didn't say it to be nasty, but it hurt. I want to enjoy my kids, but how in the world do you enjoy disobedient little monkeys?
Then, as our ability to talk and listen got shorter and shorter, she turned to my two youngest and said, "Get your shoes on and sit down now! I can't talk to your mom when she's distracted by you, because then it distracts me. Now sit there quietly and count to 200 in your head. We'll be down soon." My kids immediately obeyed, I mumbled a thanks and we finished our conversation.
The minute we left my face began burning as the humiliation rose up. Did a doctor truly have to get control of my children for me?? Why don't my kids listen to me? I set my jaw and said, "You're both getting spankings when we get home and then I'm telling your dad about what happened and I hope he spanks you again."
We had three other sit-and-wait excursions that followed (pharmacy, lab, barber shop) and my kids were little angels in the waiting rooms, sitting silently in their chairs in hopes that the Fanny Whacker would not be removed from it's place on the wall.
Their silent obedience did not work.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)