Tag: chaos

children, mommy cliques, mommyhood, terrible twos

I Should Have Stayed Home

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This is the dilemma. Do you wait until your child can properly behave themselves in public (which could take years) to venture from your home or do you never, ever leave your house? This has been my plight since Full Speed was aggressively mobile (at about seven months of age). I have always been on the side of pushing forward and attempting to be social and expose my boys to world experiences. However, when I’m in the middle of one such experience, I often wish I had just stayed home.

I took T.Puzzle to the library for story time this morning. In the past I’ve had both boys with me and the result was often disastrous. I hoped that since I was playing him man-to-man, it would be tolerable and holding out all hope, enjoyable.
Your Frick can Read

Summer is the last time I went to story time at the library. The memories of social hierarchy come back to me in a rush as soon as the first clique-ish group of Moms walk through the door. My stomach does an unpleasant back flip as I realize that high school is never really over. I hate clique-y Moms. I’ve been a Mom long enough now that I don’t even pretend to try to talk to them. Life is easier that way.

T.Puzzle is hyper (I know, it’s like saying T.Puzzle is breathing). I think he senses that the more embarrassing he acts, the more anxiety it produces in his Mom. He must think that’s cool because he is very out of control. At one point he begins to make spitting noises. I lean down and say, “You spit again and we leave.” Story time was not going well.

He was not acting like himself. He was kind of clingy, wasn’t dancing or clapping (which at home is totally his thing) and he kept telling me to stop singing (which was getting on my last nerve). He looks at me thoughtfully and spits. He clearly wants to leave. He even tugs on my shirt and confesses, “I spit, Mommy. I go home.”

Another dilemma. I am always extremely conscious about what I say to the boys. If a threat escapes my lips, I am fully prepared to back it up. I want my words to have weight. I want them to know when I speak, it’s the truth and that I am consistent. If they don’t learn to respect my words now, what am I going to do when they are fifteen and seventeen respectively and are a head taller than me (fingers crossed Full Speed) and weigh more than me (fingers crossed me!)?

Ultimately, we didn’t go home. I felt T.Puzzle was playing the system and being sneaky to get what he wanted. We plundered through the remaining five minutes of songs and stories. This whole time I imagine staying in our house this morning might have been the right choice.

However, that’s not how I roll. You can defy me, you can act a fool and you can spit at me, but dammit, we are getting out there and we are going to live life. Some Moms may pretend we don’t exist, and yet other Moms will feel validated that they aren’t the only ones with devilish offspring. It matters not. We will always leave the safety (and boredom) of our house and someday, I hope manners and good grace find us. Until then, have compassion if you see us in public. I apologize in advance.

children, marital blissishness, parenting

Three Ring Circus

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Today is a momentous day for our family. We are going to the store to buy a trundle bed for T.Puzzle’s room. Our plan is to get T.Puzzle used to sleeping in the pull-out part of the bed (as it is low to the ground in case he should fall). Once he is comfortable and it has become routine, we would allow for his brother to sleep in the regular part of the trundle bed on occasion (I guess only if I’m in the mood to torture myself).

It has taken Mad Dog and me awhile to agree on the type and style of bed we want. We had seen something on-line we both agreed on and were glad to see the same model on the store-room floor.

Sounds simple enough, doesn’t it?

It’s not.

The boys decide that the assortment of beds and furniture on display are there solely for their entertainment. Soon, T.Puzzle is climbing every, single one of the bunk beds and leaning dangerously over every edge he can access. I’m running around with my hands up in what I like to call the ‘perma-catch’ formation. You have to cup your hands sort of like a basket and the object is to always keep them directly under your child. This is not easy. Two year olds are notoriously fast and they rarely stay in one place.

While I am playing “Catch the Two Year Old”, Full Speed is frustrated that he is not getting my focus of attention. He is getting pouty and every two seconds is announcing, “Look at me, I’m in the soccer chair. Look at me, I’m in the football bed. Look at me; I’m lying in the middle of the floor.”

I try to be patient but my patience is wearing thin. I try to calmly explain to Full Speed that I in fact, cannot watch him. I have to watch his little brother. T.Puzzle’s life depends on having my full concentration.

Out of the corner of my eye it appears that Mad Dog is engaged in some chit-chat with the salesman. Ladies, you’ve seen it before. When two men talk with their arms folded across their chests. It looks comfortable, relaxed and lengthy. I want to cry. (In Mad Dog’s defense, he was attempting to negotiate.)

How can Mad Dog not see that I am inches away from losing my mind? He never noticed. He didn’t even bat an eyelash that T.Puzzle almost hurled himself to serious, permanent injury 14 times.

As we exit the store (finally!), T.Puzzle trips dramatically THREE times because he is so wound up. Each time he sprawls across the floor as if he was hit by a bomb. I can’t take it.

We get to our car and T.Puzzle trips AGAIN. I pick him up and he turns his head so fast, I don’t have time to get my face out of the way. The corner of his glasses catch my nose and it hurts. I am beyond frustrated.

I yell at Mad Dog. He yells back. So much for a momentous family outing. Well, I suppose it was momentous, just for all the wrong reasons.

Now that I have some distance from the situation, I’m realizing my frustration didn’t have anything to do with Mad Dog (I am sorry). It couldn’t have happened any other way. Mad Dog had to focus on negotiation and payment and my part of the deal was to keep my children safe (easier said than done). I think why I was so upset is the knowledge that I can’t ever walk into a store setting with my boys and not have it turn into a three ring circus. The good news is circuses are highly entertaining.

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children, humor, mommyhood, parenting

Oh Where Oh Where Did Little T.Puzzle Go?

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Where oh WhereMost parents experience this. The time in a child’s development when they master opening doors and (the horror!) their subsequent locks. T.Puzzle is certainly there. For several months now he has been able to open and close doors. Especially the ones that are a single, long handle that you push or pull up and down (kids figure these kind out right quick). He is on the fringe of figuring out the locks on all of our doors, too. Unfortunately, the lock to our front door is a breeze to open. It’s a deadbolt that you simply turn a dial and ‘poof!’ the door is open and you are outside.

T.Puzzle has been threatened within an inch of his life that he is never, ever to leave the house on his own. He is always suppose to wait for Mom before he exits into the world. He has tested this threat on more than one occasion only to find himself in time-out and losing the privilege of the moment (a car, a blanket, or whatever else has caught his fancy). He’s learned to leave the door alone. At least while under my watch.

Yesterday in the late morning I was upstairs showering. During this time T.Puzzle plotted and had attempted an escape through the front door. Mad Dog gave me the full report and T.Puzzle soon realized that even when Dad is watching him, he is required to stay indoors under supervision (I know, what a bummer!).

Later in the evening Mad Dog and I were watching some television downstairs and had put a show on up in our loft for the boys to watch. At some point, Full Speed slinks down and shimmies in between us. He relishes time with both of us without his little brother present. We all watched an episode of ‘Cake Boss’ which is oddly fascinating and kid-friendly (the fire engine cake was spectacular).

It grows quiet upstairs. All we can hear are the cartoon sounds from the television. I turn to Full Speed, “What was your brother doing up there when you came down?”

“I don’t know.” It’s obvious from his tone that he isn’t concerned about anything his brother is or isn’t doing.

“Someone should check on him,” I say.

Mad Dog shouts up, “T.Puzzle, what are you doing?”

Silence is our only answer.

I’m starting to get nervous wondering if he decided to go for an unannounced late evening stroll. I’m hoping he hasn’t unlocked the front door and gone outside.

“T.Puzzle, are you up there?” I ask hoping to hear at least some movement even if I don’t get an answer.

Then Full Speed shouts, “T.Puzzle, are you here?”

Then out of the blue T.Puzzle shouts, “No!”

Everyone laughs. Here’s the thing, if we can hear you answer the question of your whereabouts, odds are you are in close proximity to us no matter how much you try to deny it.

children, gratitude, mommyhood, potty training, self-discovery, terrible twos

Through the Day

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Frickity

Our good friends down the street had a birthday party for their three year old daughter. I had to go to this party without Mad Dog because of his work commitments (I know, that’s a shocker). I have to do stuff with the boys by myself all the time so that isn’t my issue. My issue is that at birthday parties, my children lose all ability to control themselves and wind up dangerously close to clinical insanity (or maybe it’s me).

I’m not sure if it’s the new setting, the almost tangible party excitement or the fancy cupcakes that set them off. We were there for three hours and I think I had one, five minute intelligent conversation with another adult in that time frame. The rest of the time I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off meeting the needs of my children, making sure that the other children were safe from them and making sure my friends’ home and their many possessions remained unharmed. It was exhausting.

T.Puzzle of course was defiant and spewed out a few screaming ‘no!’ tantrums. He also managed to lock his teeth on his brother’s hand as they fought over some toy. As I placed him in time-out he threw himself on the floor in kinetic desperation. By the time the party was over and I corralled my boys home I was drained and openly hostile with Mad Dog (who had arrived home a few short moments before we did). My hostility multiplied when Mad Dog questioned its existence. I’m sorry but three solid hours of stress will tend to make a Mom cranky.

This evening and all its stress melted away and brought us to our morning. T.Puzzle had a dry diaper after almost twelve hours of slumber! As soon as I realized this I raced to get him to the potty. As soon as I put him down he starts protesting in screaming wails. How on earth could anyone after TWELVE hours not immediately pee when placed on a toilet? I argue with him for a couple minutes. Then I take a figurative step back and realize I don’t really want to be locked in a power struggle over the potty. Our day would start off pissy if we did. So, I give up and leave the bathroom to pick out his clothes for the day. No sooner than my foot crosses that threshold, he pees. He was being stubborn. No way was he going to pee in front of Mommy. That would make her too happy. He wasn’t having any of that.

Despite its frustrating beginning our day goes pretty well. The weather has finally shifted. It’s not the normal thousand degrees with a million percent humidity. There is an actual chill in the air. Who knows how long it will last but it is delicious.

Part of my project for this fall-like day is to make eggless cupcakes for Full Speed’s mini-birthday celebration tomorrow. I go to the bother of driving to the not-so-convenient store to get the eggless mix because I want little brother T.Puzzle to feel included. Who knows if he will even actually eat them?

Once they are baked and cooled (they smell awesome by the way), I ask Full Speed to help me decorate them. I frost them in chocolate and give him the bottle of colored, candied sprinkles. In a flash he has it open and dumps almost the entire contents on one cupcake. I lose it. Mad Dog intervenes which makes me lose it more. I’m upset that Full Speed is wasteful for sure, but ultimately I’m upset because I told him to stop when he first started the dumpage and as soon as I turn my back, he continues to dump it all on one, defenseless cupcake.

The tension subsides after the cupcakes are more or less decorated and then I offer to read a chapter of ‘Inkheart’ to Full Speed out on the lanai. He is happy to do so. We snuggle under a fluffy red, blanket and pick up the story where we left off from yesterday.

Soon we have an unexpected visitor bust through the door and jump up on the chaise with us. T.Puzzle beams a smile at us and shouts, “I BACK!” Full Speed and I crack up. I say, “Well, T.Puzzle, we didn’t even know you had left,” and the laughter continues. Then the laughter takes a life of its own and we giggle and guffaw over funny faces and who knows what else.

Sometimes the pendulum of motherhood swings in your favor, sometimes it swings against you. Your job is to hang on and coast with its motion and when the laughter of the small moments finds you, embrace it with everything you have. Sometimes that’s all a Mom gets to get her through the day.

Yum

children, mommyhood

The Compassionate Boy

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Can you really consider it to be stress-relief yoga if you have two children utilizing the space you create between yourself and the floor as their tunnel? Hey, at least they were playing together.

Full Speed is mastering the many complexities of the English language. He is full of questions and curiosity. He asks me constantly about words and their meanings. Yesterday he asked me what ‘compassion’ meant. I asked where he had heard the word and to describe the context. He said he heard it on his ‘Hotwheels’ cartoon. A compassionate Hotwheels cartoon, who knew such a thing existed? I still don’t fully understand exactly what he was talking about. He said there was an army and then they captured compassion and wouldn’t give it back. I’m guessing he heard it somewhere else. Who knows?

I did my best to explain it. I said it has to do with caring about how someone else feels. For instance, if your brother is happy then you are happy for him. Conversely, if he feels sad, then you feel sad. Compassion also means doing what you can to help others feel better. Full Speed seemed satisfied with that explanation.

As I sat at the computer yesterday typing away as I am now known to do for the love of my blog, the boys are out playing on the lanai. They alternate between being best friends and mortal enemies. I try to ignore them because I find that the resolution they reach on their own is always more solid than the resolution that Mom reaches for them. It’s not easy to ignore the piercing screams and cries for help (all highly over-dramatized). I think a Mom’s greatest strength is her ability to tune out nonsense so everyone can get on with their lives.

Full Speed runs in and says, “Mommy, I showed T.Puzzle compassion because I gave him my car and it made him happy. I felt happy because he was happy.”

I think he is getting it. It is fun to see your growing child begin to understand intricate emotional states. It’s almost as if you can see the adult inside of them beginning to peek out.

However, his compassionate feeling didn’t last long. Soon he had snatched his car back and started hitting T.Puzzle over the head with it.

Looks like I need to teach T.Puzzle the meaning of self-defense.

A Mom’s work is never done.

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