No amount of schooling could have prepared me for this monumental task. When it comes to packing a diaper bag, I feel like a complete idiot. It takes me forever. In fact, if I know I have to be somewhere early in the morning with the kids, I will literally lose sleep over that stupid bag.
Which bag should I take?
Can I cram a big one in the stroller, or should I pack multiple small bags?
Would a backpack be more efficient?
If we're taking lunch, should I pack a collapsible or hard-sided cooler?
It can take me up to two hours to pack the diaper bag for the zoo. Now, mind you, I am also engaged in Olympic-esque games with the kids (including but not limited to): clothing wrestle, sunscreen battle, breakfast challenge (cooking, convincing them to eat, and cleaning up). Then I have to make lunches, get myself ready, feed the cats, and start the laundry. I suppose if I only had to make lunches and pack the bags, (and someone tied up the children) I could have it done in about 20 minutes.
Today Cider-man (Parker still can't pronounce that s-p combination) had one of my hands bound in his web [tied in a ponytail holder attached to a string] while I made the sandwiches. When I successfully got the food in ziplocks with one hand, I felt just like Wonder Woman (except I'm not allowed to say BAM! and incapacitate him with my lasso).
Swim diapers, regular diapers, wipes, sunscreen for their bodies, sensitive sunscreen for their faces, hats, emergency outfits, towels, drinks, wallet, keys, cooler with food, EpiPen, phone, swimsuits, kitchen sink...
We make it out the door. The van is packed. The kids are strapped in.
"Mommy, can we just stay home?"
6/18/10
6/15/10
Requests
I don't do well with whining children. When I was a counselor for kids, I always addressed the issue (whether the parents asked me to or not). It's not merely a pet peeve of mine; I believe it is very important that children learn at a young age how to appropriately communicate their needs.
On a daily basis I force Parker to repeat his requests in a reasonable manner. Sometimes he'll have to ask for something seven or eight times until all traces of the whine have left his voice. It is a painful process for everyone involved.
But boy-oh-boy when he asks for something in a normal voice and throws in some manners and gratitude, I will give that child the world on a silver platter.
Here is a [rare] example: "Um, excuse me mommy, may I please have [fill in the blank], and I will share some with my sister." The best is when I give him whatever he's asked for, and he is so joyful and thankful. "Yippee! Thank you mommy!"
Wonder if God feels the same way I do. I bet He has all kinds of blessings at his disposal He's just aching to give us...but first we have to ask (without whining or demanding). I bet the icing on His cake is when we are truly grateful.
I wonder how much Parker has learned from listening to my whining, demanding prayers. I wonder how often he's heard me specifically thank God for answering my prayers. Not often enough.
Matthew 7:11
If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!
James 1:17
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.
On a daily basis I force Parker to repeat his requests in a reasonable manner. Sometimes he'll have to ask for something seven or eight times until all traces of the whine have left his voice. It is a painful process for everyone involved.
But boy-oh-boy when he asks for something in a normal voice and throws in some manners and gratitude, I will give that child the world on a silver platter.
Here is a [rare] example: "Um, excuse me mommy, may I please have [fill in the blank], and I will share some with my sister." The best is when I give him whatever he's asked for, and he is so joyful and thankful. "Yippee! Thank you mommy!"
Wonder if God feels the same way I do. I bet He has all kinds of blessings at his disposal He's just aching to give us...but first we have to ask (without whining or demanding). I bet the icing on His cake is when we are truly grateful.
I wonder how much Parker has learned from listening to my whining, demanding prayers. I wonder how often he's heard me specifically thank God for answering my prayers. Not often enough.
Matthew 7:11
If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!
James 1:17
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.
6/14/10
Biting me...
In the behind...That's what's happening with my parenting techniques. Parker is using them against me!
Yesterday he said:
"Mommy, when you say things like that, like 'You can't have anymore fruit snacks today,' it makes me not want to be around you or do nice things for you."
I happen to use that phrase when gets too rough in his play [hitting or spitting] or when he says mean things to his sister.
Then he turned my own words against me today. A work crew was cleaning up a huge tree limb that knocked down a phone line connected to our house. Parker had been begging to go outside so he could watch them use the chainsaw and talk to them. I allowed him to go onto the porch. Then, of course, he just wanted to ride his bike in the driveway. Please, mommy!
So I dragged the hose across the driveway to create a boundary. If his front tire so much as touched it...
He assured me he understood and biked happily in circles while he watched the workers at the other end of the driveway. I went inside to finish cleaning the dishes, watching him from the window. He edged his bike right up to the hose then quickly glanced at the house. I waved and gave a warning look. He smiled, waved back, and backed away.
I ran upstairs to check on Maddie who was happily destroying the playroom. When I glanced out the hall window, he was turning on the hose. Fearful of the phone wire on the ground nearby, I threw open the window:
"Parker Jacob! Turn that hose off right now!"
He looked up, startled, and ran to turn it off.
When I came downstairs, he entered the back door, lip quivering.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Mommy, you said, 'Parker Jacob, turn that hose off right now,' and that wasn't a very nice way to ask me."
"I'm sorry, honey." I explained, "I was nervous about the water being on around the phone line. I needed to get your attention right away."
"Well, next time you could just say, 'Please, Parker Jacob, could you turn that hose off?'"
I had a hard time keeping a straight face. Then he said, "Let's give it a try," and he ran to the back door so I could re-enact the scene in a more polite manner.
Yesterday he said:
"Mommy, when you say things like that, like 'You can't have anymore fruit snacks today,' it makes me not want to be around you or do nice things for you."
I happen to use that phrase when gets too rough in his play [hitting or spitting] or when he says mean things to his sister.
Then he turned my own words against me today. A work crew was cleaning up a huge tree limb that knocked down a phone line connected to our house. Parker had been begging to go outside so he could watch them use the chainsaw and talk to them. I allowed him to go onto the porch. Then, of course, he just wanted to ride his bike in the driveway. Please, mommy!
So I dragged the hose across the driveway to create a boundary. If his front tire so much as touched it...
He assured me he understood and biked happily in circles while he watched the workers at the other end of the driveway. I went inside to finish cleaning the dishes, watching him from the window. He edged his bike right up to the hose then quickly glanced at the house. I waved and gave a warning look. He smiled, waved back, and backed away.
I ran upstairs to check on Maddie who was happily destroying the playroom. When I glanced out the hall window, he was turning on the hose. Fearful of the phone wire on the ground nearby, I threw open the window:
"Parker Jacob! Turn that hose off right now!"
He looked up, startled, and ran to turn it off.
When I came downstairs, he entered the back door, lip quivering.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Mommy, you said, 'Parker Jacob, turn that hose off right now,' and that wasn't a very nice way to ask me."
"I'm sorry, honey." I explained, "I was nervous about the water being on around the phone line. I needed to get your attention right away."
"Well, next time you could just say, 'Please, Parker Jacob, could you turn that hose off?'"
I had a hard time keeping a straight face. Then he said, "Let's give it a try," and he ran to the back door so I could re-enact the scene in a more polite manner.
6/13/10
Creative Excuses
Parker is the king of attempting to extend his bedtime. Always wanting another "show" (cartoon), another story, another cup of milk.
Two nights ago, when Aaron put him in bed for the second time, he cried, "But mommy only read me some of the Bible. I need someone to read me all of the Bible." Call me a cynic, but somehow I find it hard to believe spiritual longings were behind his request.
Tonight he came downstairs with some pages in his hand.
"Daddy, while I was reading my book I think I tore some pages out by accident...and I need some more milk."
Aaron took him upstairs with the milk while I repaired the book. Upon entering his room I overheard an interesting conversation about a medical condition he had (of which I was completely unaware).
"Daddy, I can't go to sleep. I have an allergy. It's called a red allergy. I can't close my eyes because they burn. It's the allergy."
I left the room before he could hear my giggles. When Aaron came downstairs he was chuckling. Apparently Parker had agreed to go to sleep under a few conditions:
"Daddy, I'll go to sleep, but I want you to wake me up in this many [holds up his hand]. Count my fingers!"
Aaron counted: "One, two, three, four, five."
"In five minutes!...And I need mommy to bring me more milk."
Is anyone else thinking that this little scenario is completely ridiculous? It's funny, yes, but also a little crazy on our part [the parents] for allowing it to go on this long.
Enough was enough! I marched up the stairs (milk in hand, of course).
"Parker, I am going to have to tell you something, and you are not going to like it."
"Okay..."
"After tonight, you will drink your 'bedtime milk' downstairs. No more milk in your bedroom. We need to keep all food and drink downstairs in the kitchen.".
Long pause.
"You were right, mommy. I didn't like it."
Poor little guy. He has no idea what he's in for. See, I'm about to go all Super-Nanny on his little behind. Bedtime is about to get really interesting. Stay tuned!
Two nights ago, when Aaron put him in bed for the second time, he cried, "But mommy only read me some of the Bible. I need someone to read me all of the Bible." Call me a cynic, but somehow I find it hard to believe spiritual longings were behind his request.
Tonight he came downstairs with some pages in his hand.
"Daddy, while I was reading my book I think I tore some pages out by accident...and I need some more milk."
Aaron took him upstairs with the milk while I repaired the book. Upon entering his room I overheard an interesting conversation about a medical condition he had (of which I was completely unaware).
"Daddy, I can't go to sleep. I have an allergy. It's called a red allergy. I can't close my eyes because they burn. It's the allergy."
I left the room before he could hear my giggles. When Aaron came downstairs he was chuckling. Apparently Parker had agreed to go to sleep under a few conditions:
"Daddy, I'll go to sleep, but I want you to wake me up in this many [holds up his hand]. Count my fingers!"
Aaron counted: "One, two, three, four, five."
"In five minutes!...And I need mommy to bring me more milk."
Is anyone else thinking that this little scenario is completely ridiculous? It's funny, yes, but also a little crazy on our part [the parents] for allowing it to go on this long.
Enough was enough! I marched up the stairs (milk in hand, of course).
"Parker, I am going to have to tell you something, and you are not going to like it."
"Okay..."
"After tonight, you will drink your 'bedtime milk' downstairs. No more milk in your bedroom. We need to keep all food and drink downstairs in the kitchen.".
Long pause.
"You were right, mommy. I didn't like it."
Poor little guy. He has no idea what he's in for. See, I'm about to go all Super-Nanny on his little behind. Bedtime is about to get really interesting. Stay tuned!
6/9/10
My new parenting book
Okay, so I'm not really going to write one. But if I were...
My first chapter would be entitled: Starvation: It really works!
Today I stumbled across this truth: If you starve them, they will eat. It may not sound profound at first, but repeat it with the same whispered reverence as the famous phrase in Field of Dreams. That's how my revelation felt to me.
Of course, I would never actually starve my children. I just don't think I allow them to become hungry enough to really appreciate their food, and I never realized that until this afternoon.
Today when I woke them from nap we immediately became so engrossed in our pirate adventures, we forgot to have a snack. Then we went outside to play. Parker drenched himself (and everything else within range) with the hose, Maddie pushed her stroller, and I cleaned out the van for the third time this week. We were just too busy having fun to be bothered with food.
When Aaron got home we all stayed outside playing frisbee (or "tuzzbee" as Parker likes to call it) while our dinner was on the grill. I ran in to set the table and give them a few extra minutes of play. Then, bracing myself for the inevitable onslaught of protests, I called them all in to eat. What happened next was nothing short of amazing.
Parker jumped into the air and exclaimed, "Yay! Dinner!" and ran inside. [That was it, in case you were waiting for more.]
Aaron and I just stared at each other as Parker ran past us into the kitchen.
You must understand how atypical this behavior was in order to appreciate the enormity of the situation. On a daily basis, I hear the same whiny responses from him regarding dinner:
Not yet!
Can you please set the timer for two more minutes?
I'm not hungry.
That's too spicy.
I don't like that.
That green stuff is yucky.
I don't want to eat.
Can I just drink my milk?
Imagine my surprise and delight when he expressed joy at the announcement of dinner, promptly came in, and actually ate!
I say it again, starvation: it works!
My first chapter would be entitled: Starvation: It really works!
Today I stumbled across this truth: If you starve them, they will eat. It may not sound profound at first, but repeat it with the same whispered reverence as the famous phrase in Field of Dreams. That's how my revelation felt to me.
Of course, I would never actually starve my children. I just don't think I allow them to become hungry enough to really appreciate their food, and I never realized that until this afternoon.
Today when I woke them from nap we immediately became so engrossed in our pirate adventures, we forgot to have a snack. Then we went outside to play. Parker drenched himself (and everything else within range) with the hose, Maddie pushed her stroller, and I cleaned out the van for the third time this week. We were just too busy having fun to be bothered with food.
When Aaron got home we all stayed outside playing frisbee (or "tuzzbee" as Parker likes to call it) while our dinner was on the grill. I ran in to set the table and give them a few extra minutes of play. Then, bracing myself for the inevitable onslaught of protests, I called them all in to eat. What happened next was nothing short of amazing.
Parker jumped into the air and exclaimed, "Yay! Dinner!" and ran inside. [That was it, in case you were waiting for more.]
Aaron and I just stared at each other as Parker ran past us into the kitchen.
You must understand how atypical this behavior was in order to appreciate the enormity of the situation. On a daily basis, I hear the same whiny responses from him regarding dinner:
Not yet!
Can you please set the timer for two more minutes?
I'm not hungry.
That's too spicy.
I don't like that.
That green stuff is yucky.
I don't want to eat.
Can I just drink my milk?
Imagine my surprise and delight when he expressed joy at the announcement of dinner, promptly came in, and actually ate!
I say it again, starvation: it works!
6/7/10
Tude
Attitude. There is so much of it flying around our house these days, we have shortened the word to "tude." Just easier to say. "Cut the tude, Parker." "Maddie, don't give me that tude." Aaron even calls Maddie "a little tude-lette."
Where did they get it? Do we, as parents, really exhibit so much they are simply mimicking what they see, or were they born with this condition?
A few examples:
If I have to repeat a request, the tone of my voice changes, becoming progressively more firm [read annoyed/severe]. "Parker, please go potty so we can leave." I will repeat this several times before I start to count. If I get to 3 there is trouble. Usually by the time I get to two, Parker will give an exaggerated high-pitched sigh, "Hhuuuuuhhhhhh!" (He kind of sounds like Ms. Piggy from the Muppets.) "Alriiiight. I hear you. I'm going!"
When he recently responded to his father's request with a similar sigh, Aaron told him to watch it. Parker quickly explained he was "just being a pirate." Apparently pirates sound like Ms. Piggy, too.
Maddie's attitude rears its ugly head in other ways.
There is the good old "stink eye." She still gives this withering look on occasion, when a stranger says hello, when we tell her "no," or when she just feels like it.
There is the full-body flail. If you so much as look at her when she doesn't want you to, she will screech and throw her body around. [See previous blog entries about my suspicions of demon-possession.]
Then there is her new, favorite word: no. Maddie doesn't just say, "No." It is an art. A lovely, long drawn out statement, "Nnnnnoooooooohhh." It is usually followed by a smile.
However, if her "no" was in response to a non-negotiable situation (e.g. "Maddie, we are going to change your poopy diaper now."), the smile vanishes and is followed by the full body flail. Not ideal when you are dealing with a soiled diaper, let me tell you.
Finally, our own children have begun scolding us. Tonight Parker was allowed to stay up extra-late and watch TV since he had such a rough day at the allergist's office. When we finally put him to bed, he was informed there would be no late-night trips downstairs for special requests (another bedtime story, milk, etc.). As I tucked him in he said, "Mommy, can you please ask Daddy to come up and tell me another story."
Me: No, he told you he had said good-night and it was time for you to go to sleep.
P: Well could you just ask him?
Me: Fine. I'll ask, but the answer is probably no, so go on to sleep.
P: Ok.
Aaron opted to stay downstairs.
Creak, creak, creak.
Tiptoe. Tiptoe. Tiptoe.
"Daddy! I told mommy to ask you to come upstairs but all you did was stay down here and watch TV!"
Where did they get it? Do we, as parents, really exhibit so much they are simply mimicking what they see, or were they born with this condition?
A few examples:
If I have to repeat a request, the tone of my voice changes, becoming progressively more firm [read annoyed/severe]. "Parker, please go potty so we can leave." I will repeat this several times before I start to count. If I get to 3 there is trouble. Usually by the time I get to two, Parker will give an exaggerated high-pitched sigh, "Hhuuuuuhhhhhh!" (He kind of sounds like Ms. Piggy from the Muppets.) "Alriiiight. I hear you. I'm going!"
When he recently responded to his father's request with a similar sigh, Aaron told him to watch it. Parker quickly explained he was "just being a pirate." Apparently pirates sound like Ms. Piggy, too.
Maddie's attitude rears its ugly head in other ways.
There is the good old "stink eye." She still gives this withering look on occasion, when a stranger says hello, when we tell her "no," or when she just feels like it.
There is the full-body flail. If you so much as look at her when she doesn't want you to, she will screech and throw her body around. [See previous blog entries about my suspicions of demon-possession.]
Then there is her new, favorite word: no. Maddie doesn't just say, "No." It is an art. A lovely, long drawn out statement, "Nnnnnoooooooohhh." It is usually followed by a smile.
However, if her "no" was in response to a non-negotiable situation (e.g. "Maddie, we are going to change your poopy diaper now."), the smile vanishes and is followed by the full body flail. Not ideal when you are dealing with a soiled diaper, let me tell you.
Finally, our own children have begun scolding us. Tonight Parker was allowed to stay up extra-late and watch TV since he had such a rough day at the allergist's office. When we finally put him to bed, he was informed there would be no late-night trips downstairs for special requests (another bedtime story, milk, etc.). As I tucked him in he said, "Mommy, can you please ask Daddy to come up and tell me another story."
Me: No, he told you he had said good-night and it was time for you to go to sleep.
P: Well could you just ask him?
Me: Fine. I'll ask, but the answer is probably no, so go on to sleep.
P: Ok.
Aaron opted to stay downstairs.
Creak, creak, creak.
Tiptoe. Tiptoe. Tiptoe.
"Daddy! I told mommy to ask you to come upstairs but all you did was stay down here and watch TV!"
Lemonade
At church, they've been doing a series called Lemonade. It's all about how you can view your circumstances when life hands you lemons.
Today we got ourselves a whole basket of lemons. Took Parker and Maddie to the allergist. Parker had been to one in Seattle when he was just a baby. I suspected he'd still have allergy issues (especially here in KY where there is a healthy coat of pollen on everything). Maddie had never been, but I knew that with her eczema (red, itchy skin rash) and reaction to peanut butter (blisters wherever it touches her skin) she'd have some allergies, too.
What I didn't know was that I would:
be in that tiny office for 4 hours and 15 minutes
need 2 other adult women to help me pin my screaming son down while he received about 50 pricks
have to listen to my baby boy repeatedly scream, "Please stop! Please stop! Please stop!"
hear that my kids are both "highly allergic" individuals
learn how to use an EpiPen
need to redecorate the living room (no more down pillows for us!)
have to reconsider my daughter's daily diet to exclude corn, rice, eggs, strawberries, dairy products, peanuts, etc.
bug the landlord about fixing the a/c since the kids can't have their windows open
consider shampooing my poor cat on a weekly basis so I can justify her existence in our home
The list goes on...
But, really, who cares? Seriously, who cares? So they have a slew of allergies. Am I really going to complain? Lemonade, anyone?
I am so blessed that:
Aaron has a job that provides income and insurance
our insurance allows us to see a specialist for a decent rate
our insurance covers most of the prescription costs
I didn't have to be at that awful appointment alone - I was accompanied by my awesome mother-in-law
the doctors know what they know and can help my kids feel better
my wonderful friend, Beth, is a nutritionist and has already volunteered to help us with Maddie's diet
we will have a life-saving EpiPen in our home
my kids are healthy and happy
we have a loving, supportive extended family who help us all the time
we have the means to buy the special shampoos and lotions we need
I have the time and ability to care for my family
This list goes on and on!
Jesus said, "In this world you will have trouble." He didn't say we might have trouble. He promised us we would have trouble, but know what He said next?
"But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33
Best lemonade I ever tasted!
Today we got ourselves a whole basket of lemons. Took Parker and Maddie to the allergist. Parker had been to one in Seattle when he was just a baby. I suspected he'd still have allergy issues (especially here in KY where there is a healthy coat of pollen on everything). Maddie had never been, but I knew that with her eczema (red, itchy skin rash) and reaction to peanut butter (blisters wherever it touches her skin) she'd have some allergies, too.
What I didn't know was that I would:
be in that tiny office for 4 hours and 15 minutes
need 2 other adult women to help me pin my screaming son down while he received about 50 pricks
have to listen to my baby boy repeatedly scream, "Please stop! Please stop! Please stop!"
hear that my kids are both "highly allergic" individuals
learn how to use an EpiPen
need to redecorate the living room (no more down pillows for us!)
have to reconsider my daughter's daily diet to exclude corn, rice, eggs, strawberries, dairy products, peanuts, etc.
bug the landlord about fixing the a/c since the kids can't have their windows open
consider shampooing my poor cat on a weekly basis so I can justify her existence in our home
The list goes on...
But, really, who cares? Seriously, who cares? So they have a slew of allergies. Am I really going to complain? Lemonade, anyone?
I am so blessed that:
Aaron has a job that provides income and insurance
our insurance allows us to see a specialist for a decent rate
our insurance covers most of the prescription costs
I didn't have to be at that awful appointment alone - I was accompanied by my awesome mother-in-law
the doctors know what they know and can help my kids feel better
my wonderful friend, Beth, is a nutritionist and has already volunteered to help us with Maddie's diet
we will have a life-saving EpiPen in our home
my kids are healthy and happy
we have a loving, supportive extended family who help us all the time
we have the means to buy the special shampoos and lotions we need
I have the time and ability to care for my family
This list goes on and on!
Jesus said, "In this world you will have trouble." He didn't say we might have trouble. He promised us we would have trouble, but know what He said next?
"But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33
Best lemonade I ever tasted!
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