I’m not sure if this is because she’s particularly industrious or because she thinks that if she helps in the kitchen chocolate chips might fall serendipitously into her mouth. [read more at Parenting]
Family Time
Searching
He falls asleep cupping my cheek with his pudgy little hand, tiny contented snores escaping his nose, his lips fluttering and sucking in search of his long lost friends, my breasts.
Calmed by his warmth, I think about my latest round of parental introspection, my quest for maternal perfection.
I have no better chance of becoming a perfect parent in this life than I do of becoming a perfect human being. Motherhood is who I am, not some hobby I picked up to master and then move on from. I need to learn to somehow be happy with myself without settling or stopping my progress.
Is it possible to be comfortable in your own skin while still holding out hope for the ideal?
Surprise!
Over at Parenting I’m talking about surprises.
For Valentine’s Day I was surprised with a fabulous day of love, topped off with a nice case of food poisoning. Dan and I are both laying around in yorchville today and I’m afraid to eat anything because I don’t care to know what it will look like coming back up the pipeline.
Another good suprise is that my internet may be coming back on as early as Tuesday. Hurrah! I’ll be so glad to get back into the 21st century.
Black History Month with the Darings
We had our prelude to Black History Month in January where we learned all about Martin Luther King, Jr. and how to get people to be nice by giving them a sharp civil rights to the kidney.
This month we continued the celebration by playing GEEBEE’s Black History Memory game. I have pictures of us playing the game but… you know… the internet being down and all…
So the game arrived in the mail and the kids were stoked. You could send them a package of lentils in the mail and they’d be excited because it was a PACKAGE! They were pleased. I decided that the best way to teach them about black history was to tell them about these amazing people without bringing up the issue of race.
I wanted to raise them to be colorblind. So I told them we were going to play a game about heroes. The box includes a matching game and a booklet that gives a little bit of background about what made these artists, historic figures, scientists and inventors important. For example. Do you know anything about Buffalo Soldiers besides that they were dreadlock rastas, stolen from Africa, brought to America, fighting on arrival, fighting for survival? I didn’t either but now I do. The game also has a small section on culture where we learned about the history of Kwanza.
We started the game about heroes with no mention of their race and I was thinking I was pretty smart. My thought was that their accomplishments were pretty impressive on their own without the caveat of, “Oooo. Look what she accomplished even though she was black!” I wanted to just say, “Oooo. Look what she accomplished! What a great woman!”
But as we continued to play, I was truly affected by their stories not just because they were amazing people but because they were amazing people despite the way they were treated. The handicap was not the color of their skin but the way people treated them because of the color of their skin and that’s a lesson that needs to be taught. I decided to bring race to the forefront of the game.
My kids need to hear about race relations and they need to know that amazing men and women worked their way out of slavery and then went on to make a positive difference to the world. They need to know that Harriet Tubman was not content with her own freedom but worked to help thousands of others as well. They need to know that these people were black and how they were treated because they were black and they need to work to never let something like that happen again.
The sad thing is that it’s still happening. People are not considered equal in this country, not truly. Every time I fill out a form that asks for my race, I feel twinge of discomfort. I am Caucasian. My race shelters me and makes things easier for me in ways I’ll never fully understand and how is that fair?
I wasn’t honestly sure how much of the teaching was getting through to them as they enjoyed collecting matches and laughing together and only half-listened to the stories I was reading between turns.
But when we finished Laylee touched me on the arm and said, “I’m glad I wasn’t alive when there was slavers. I wouldn’t ever want to have been alive back when people cared about skin whether it was light or dark.”
I’m sad that she will grow to find out that some people do still care about skin but I’m glad to be teaching her what I think about it. If I raise the kids to be blind to differences in skin color, then someone who’s less blind to those differences will get the chance to teach them and I’d rather have the chance to let them know that their only “racial intolerance” should be towards inequality.
You can find this and other Black History games and puzzles at Wal-Mart this month or at Pressman Toy.
I am But a Humble Parental Mastermind
Since I’m working on a goal to be more positive, I thought I’d start by giving myself a virtual pat on the back in the next installment of what seems to be becoming a series on why I am the best mom ever to live. [read more at parenting.com]
Are You 100% Positive?
Even the sweetest kid can be a Snarkity McSnarkle Pants sometimes. It’s just expected. We may roll our eyes and move on or try to correct the attitude. Sometimes we just lock ourselves in the bathroom with some lemon bars and a good book while they snark themselves into exhaustion.
For the past several months Laylee has been experiencing a lot of angst. To an extent I think it’s normal. Like Magoo’s recent too cute PMSing over every little thing, I think it’s mostly just a stage. But then there’s this little part of me that wonders if I’m raising a cranky little pessimist. I’ve tried all kinds of “techniques” to help get over the problem and honestly there’s been a lot of improvement.
I’ve tried being more attentive to her before she gets bent out of shape and we’ve helped her overcome most of her perfectionist tendencies. Beneath her sweetness, there’s still this smoldering frustration and worry that she carries around to an extent that I don’t think is healthy for a 4-year-old. She should be happy and fairly care free and not so quick to anger.
So on Sunday I was fasting, as members of my church are wont to do on the first Sunday of the month. We go without food and pay special attention to our prayers and devotion to exhibit our faithfulness to God and our willingness to put physical things aside and let the spiritual take center stage. Honestly I frequently have a super hard time putting the physical completely aside when my stomach is yelling in my face, but I understand the reasoning behind the practice and I’ve had a few wonderful experiences.
Anyway, I decided to dedicate my fast to asking my Heavenly Father for help with Laylee and her sadness/frustration/angst/snappishness. As I was kneeling down to pray, the words were not fully out of my mouth when my prayer was interrupted by the clear thought, “You need to be more positive.”
“Okay,” said I, “Thank you for that. Now about Laylee. Please help me to figure– ”
The thought came again only stronger, “You need to be more positive and watch the kind of things you talk about in front of her. On the phone. To your friends and Dan. Your negativity and pessimism are getting to her. If you change this, she will be changed.”
I was sort of taken aback. My fast had just begun and I hadn’t even completed my prayer and I was already getting an answer to my question though not the answer I wanted to hear. I think of myself as a fairly positive person but when I really thought about it, I could remember way too many conversations where I was critical, overly dramatic in a negative way or “humorously” sarcastic. Kids don’t get sarcasm. They hear mommy being mean to someone and they just feel the negative vibe.
So I talked to Dan and “we’re” working on it although honestly he doesn’t have much to work on. It’s hard to stop because it’s such a habit when I’m chatting on the phone to just be flippant or gloom and doomy. I’m actually annoyed by myself.
The key for me really is to try to think positive thoughts and try to speak in a more positive way even when I don’t think the kids are listening. It’s not like I have a switch I can flip on and off. It’s something I need to work on consistently.
So yesterday was the third day of this new plan and it shows just how much work I have to do. I’d been pretty positive all day, trying to get the kids excited about the world around them, a regular Pollyanna run amok, but with more personality. As we were driving to the grocery store, we were exclaiming over the beauty of the clouds and the sky and OH MY! Isn’t that the neatest thing? I really started getting into the spirit, caught up in their enthusiasm for the beautiful sunset. I felt for a moment that no one could be as lucky as I, two beautiful children, a great marriage, a lusciously cloudy Seattle sunset and a trip to the grocery store. What could be better?
Fast forward an hour as the kids had lost their minds and I wasn’t far behind. We made it out of the store alive only to have all kinds of rioting break out upon entrance to the van. They’d been picking at each other all through our shopping, as if to say, “ARE YOU INSANE TO TACKLE GROCERY SHOPPING AT LOSING OUR MINDS O’CLOCK IN THE EVENING??!!”
When they got into the van, their quarelling became unmanageable and so I turned the stereo up to eleven to block out the noise and proceeded to drive home. When Laylee confronted me about hurting her ears and giving her a possible “ear affection,” I told her that next time she could plug them but that since I was driving I couldn’t plug mine to block out their fighting and loud music was the next best thing. I guess if she really doesn’t like the music then next time I can just yell repeatedly “SERENITY NOW!!” at the top of my lungs.
“Oh,” she said. “Hmph.”
Oh hmph indeed. We glared each other down and I vowed to be more positive today. And I was. We’ll see about tomorrow. Baby steps.
Under Cover of Darkness
When it’s dark, I sometimes wear crazy eyeshadow, black stretchpants and an 80’s t-shirt hanging off one shoulder. When it’s dark we all think we’re rock stars and it’s okay because the kids are in bed somewhere far away with a babysitter.
Good thing it gets dark super early around here lately so we can party “all night” and still get a good night’s sleep.
Mom’s Body is Everybody’s Body
I kinda sorta thought that once my children were born and weaned, my body would be my own again. [read more at Parenting]
I Don’t Need to Be the Biggest Loser, Just the Loser with the Biggest Thumbs
I’m a little bit sick still in my throat but I’ve been working out anyway. Somebody came over and left a crusty comment about how I should be working hard instead of railing on a reality TV franchise and I just want to tell you all that there is such a thing as humor and that I am working hard and I feel at least 1.7% better about the health of my body after one week of serious exercise. Yipee!
For those of you who asked, the book I’m using is The Biggest Loser Fitness Program intermediate routine #1 with cardio on my off days. I’m also supplimenting with Super Paper Mario for the Wii for thumb strength and map-reading skills. For those of you who didn’t ask, that was probably too much information.
While I’m doing all the working out, Laylee is occupying herself well. The latest is up at Parenting.
Bunks, Thugs and Harmony
Bunkbeds at Costco were ripe for the picking and who am I to argue with purchasing furniture when it’s in season? About a year ago they had them in stock and I wasn’t QUITE quick enough snatching one up. When I went back they were gone and we haven’t found a set as nice for as reasonable a price since so I’ve been laying in wait, checking back every week or so for the past 12 months, comforting myself for the fruitless trips by purchasing books and artichoke dip.
Dan brought home the impossibly large boxes and stashed them in the garage while I made the rounds of every store in the known universe looking for twin mattresses. I settled on some basic foam mattresses from IKEA because I’d like to keep our retirement savings intact and also eat Swedish meatballs at least once a year. I could not BELIEVE how much most stores were charging for basic twin mattresses. In this case “basic” means spring mattresses where you can practically see the springs poking through the thin layer of foam and plastic on top. You can certainly feel them if you make the mistake of laying down on one of those torture devices. For that price I could get two comfortable, if less than durable, foam mattresses and several meatballs WITH SAUCE at IKEA! The “spring” mattresses at ye olde mattress warehouse may have been durable but I’m pretty sure the kids would be praying for them to self destruct after the first five minutes so I decided to go with my “durable crap is still crap” philosophy and purchase the less durable, less crappy crap.
They’re actually quite comfortable.
After we got the beds up, visions of blissful childish room sharing danced in my head and I couldn’t help letting them try sleeping in them together the first night. We told Magoo that if he got out of bed, he’d have to go back to the crib in his room. Five minutes went by before we heard footsteps running down the hall. We found him spinning in circles around the living room with his head thrown back in the heady winds of freedom, a maniacal laugh escaping his lips. The laughing stopped when we tossed him back in the brig.
The second night he kept mumbling to himself about, “I no get out of m’bunk bed. I stay in m’bunk bed.” And he did. For hours he laid in bed talking to himself. We eventually found him sound asleep with Laylee spooning up next to him, a blanket covering them both. My heart nearly exploded. There’s nothing I love more than to see my kids be sweet to each other.
When I asked her about it in the morning, Laylee said that it was lonely way up there on the top bunk and each night this week she’s waited for Magoo to drift off before sneaking down the ladder, adjusting his blankets so he’ll be warm enough and climbing in for a snuggly sleep. This is why I became a mom.
Of course they’ve also been waking up earlier than usual and when one wakes up, they both get up and wreak havoc. Dan found them yesterday morning camped out on the kitchen floor with spray whip cream, chocolate chips and a whole package of sandwich cookies from which the frosting had mysteriously been licked. Some of the frosting was found on Dan’s computer and the doll house was full of chocolate chips. The two of them argued over which kid had thought of which little bit of naughtiness and luckily Dan got mad at them so I didn’t have to. I could focus my energy on the sweetness of their bonding.
I told him how much I love that they’re becoming best friends. “They do everything together now,” I grinned.
“Yes,” Dan smiled dryly, “Sort of like a gang.”