BTW – OMG: Whr did the smr go? I’m sure that any pre-pubescent offspring of ours would totally roll their eyes and tell me what was wrong – grammatically, technically, and, well, coolness factor rating within the first sentence. But the sentiment still remains – where DID the summer go?
Don’t get me wrong – I am THRILLED that all of my children returned to their institutes of education recently. They were becoming the bane of my and my nanny’s existences. Summer camps and vacations were over and the only thing left is to break things: limbs, extremities, my house, whatever… Even the thrill of destruction is waning thin here which is pretty scary.
My affirmation came to me the day before school started. We had a play-date with one of my children’s best buds. We made plans to meet at the pool for swimming and dinner. Unfortunately, yet another summer storm dropped in at the last minute that quashed our swimming plans. The mom was gracious enough to extend the invitation to all of my heathens to come over to play. Clearly, she had never seen the full crew in action… Anyway, we headed over. I was delightfully surprised at how well the quintuplet of kiddos played regardless of the age range so we mommies had a few minutes to talk amongst ourselves.
As the dinner hour approached, we debated our options and decided to haul everyone to the local pizza joint where our husbands would join us on their way home. Might I just say, and I speak solely for my family, that said husbands (i.e. mine) took their own sweet time arriving. Not only did I order for my entire bunch, receive said order, and begin eating; before my dearest daned to appear. Isn’t he cute?
Just for those of you who know how wonderful he really is and think I’m ripping him to shreds here, let me jump in with the twist. When all the kids were done with dinner, he and the other dad helped to orchestrate a 4 person head-to-head Nintendo DS/DSi Mario war. Again, here we are at a technological crossroad – what happened to the days where children were seen and not heard?
While most days I would prefer a return to that manner of dealing with children, particularly right after work when I walk in the door and everyone starts talking to me at once, this year I really would like my children, specifically oldest Christopher, to continue to talk. And maybe a little more.
You see, this year Christopher made the move, or rather “leap,” to middle school. He went from a school of about 350 children to one with 1300 pre-pubescent hormone-fluxing maniacs on wheels. All I know is that drop off and pick up is INSANE! No parking lot, no carpool, and bus rides for the very brave totally hamper any hope of normalcy. And here is the rub – Christopher saw the movie “Diary of a Wimpy Kid,” which totally takes the new middle school experience to the lowest level. Thank you VERY much, Hollywood! Hopefully, this stage will expire soon…
However, for me, it was only this morning that the reality set in – Christopher is no longer a baby. He doesn’t “need” me for the mundane, everyday events. So, what am I supposed to do now? I have been dropping him off and picking him up a few blocks from school thanks to the craziness of such a large school. But this morning, it really hit me. What have I done? Am I subjecting my “baby” to the cruel realties of the real world way too soon? Or have I given him a gift of breaking out of the mold and allowing him a chance to recreate himself? Back to the initial paragraph – WTF? I know that what I do and how I respond will model the behavior that I want to foster in my children. So what do I do? I smile and hug him while I drop him off and then, as he leaves the car and I watch him disappear into a see of students, cry profusely as I drive off to work. I encourage him to break out of the comfort zone and find new friends.
As I was tucking him into bed tonight, oldest Christopher expressed his concern that he wasn’t ready for middle school. He decided that he wasn’t mature enough. We talked about what that meant and where he wanted to go. Everyday seems to bring about an improvement in his morale. But as his parent, isn’t it my job to protect him and stand up for his concerns? As I move to the bottom bunk to tuck in middle child Simon, I learn that he is mourning, and I mean really mourning, the fact that Christopher is no longer at the same school. He also misses his old teacher. And instead of talking to anyone about this, he has been a total maniac in and out of school. I feel like MacGyver talking to anyone that comes in contact with my child to ferret out ANY clues that could have explained his behaviour.
All I know, is that this is really hard. I just wish that someone would have given me the manual for child rearing BEFORE we had to put together this data dump of information. Aside from this massive developmental jump, we have to recognize the social growth of our children. More importantly, we have to recognize that as parents, we, too, suffer the growing pains even more exponentially than our children. Every memory of every event we ever experienced comes rushing back as we see our children go through it right in front of us. Their joys are our joys. Their hopes are our hopes. Their pains are our pains.
Tonight we got Alex in bed and Shelby is working the late shift. Both Christopher and Simon are piled in my bed with me watching “Back to the Future.” Regardless of the events of the past week, we laugh and talk and play. The problems melt away and things are the way they should be. For a moment in time, things are frozen, everyone is happy, and no one is growing up. While some may call this a morphed version of the “Peter Pan” syndrome, I say this is EXACTLY what I signed up for.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
The battle between the Nintendo DS and Nemo
Earlier this week, the school where I work made the decision to completely overhaul our computer lab. It will be renamed the “Digital Arena” – an area of technological advancement that includes Macs and PCs, video recording, Skyping, cloud computing – you name it. I don’t know about you, but the name “arena” conjures images of Roman gladiators fighting each other and wild animals to the death. Either that or some WWF-type show that has two people locked in cages. I don’t know but it sounds weird. A few days later, I’m getting ready for work while I’m watching one of the early morning talk shows while they are discussing the latest and greatest alert technology for the geriatric set. As the twenty-something expert gives the low-down on this stuff, she starts talking about the “twenty-first century technology” that all these new inventions encompass. Seriously? I don’t intend to be mean here but, is someone who is eighty-five really concerned about “twenty-first century technology” or are they really more concerned about whether someone can help them when they’ve fallen and can’t get up?
Fast forward a few days later. While husband Shelby has been on five-day business trip to Philly, my children and I have been watching all the old Disney movies that we have on VHS format. We started watching “El Dorado” and middle son Simon didn’t get to watch the end because it was past his bed time. While I was driving him home from a broken-finger checkup, he lamented that he didn’t get to see the end of his movie. I suggested he watch it when we got home. His response was this – “Mom, this movie doesn’t have a ‘scene selection,’ how could I find where I was last night?” Really? What the hell happened to, hit the flippin’ rewind or fast-forward button and actually FIND what you are looking for?
Well, let me tell you about this past weekend… My in-laws rented a beach house in Freeport near San Louis Pass and had all the kids and grandkids in to help celebrate the birthday of Shelby’s step-dad, the end of summer, and another opportunity to take a boatload of pictures of the grandkids. On the drive down (mind you it is only about forty minutes or as we explain, a little over 2 “Sponge Bobs.”) the oldest two off-springs have their Nintendo DS and DSi playing Mario Brothers head-to-head. As they bicker about who got that particular “flower power” or “hey, you can’t kill me – it’s not fair!”, all I dream about is a slowing of technology. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE e-mail, Facebook, iTunes, and YouTube. But what about just going outside and PLAYING?!?!
Well, it only took that forty minute drive to solve that little question. As soon as we arrived and force-fed the children lunch amid the cries of “I’m not hungry! When can we play in the water?”; we did, indeed, head to the beach. All of a sudden we were transported back to an earlier and easier period of time. The kids dug in the sand, caught hermit crabs and small jelly fish, and tried to skim board. We came back to the house where they drank root beer while climbing in the rocks, finding blue crabs eating fish in a tidal pool, and went fishing in the surf. After dinner, they settled in to watch a movie while they nodded off from a busy day at the beach.
The next day the older boys and their cousins shot out the door shortly after breakfast to take a dip in the bay and try to boogie board in 3 feet of water. As my sister-in-law and her husband were packing up for the trek back to San Antonio, Shelby sought me out to see if the older boys needed sunscreen. Hhhmmm, let’s see – it’s 11:00 a.m., peak sun exposure time, and, oh, I don’t know, how long have you been doing this parenting thing?!?!?!? YES, THEY NEED SUNSCREEN! In the immortal words of the texting generation, WTF? After rounding up the youth for a quick slathering of what my husband calls “liquid flannel” and Shelby’s sister-in-law and her family set off, we journey down to the bay. We spend a lazy day in and out of the water and checking on all the sea creatures that were caught throughout the weekend. At one point while I was sitting on the deck eating lunch, I noticed two fins poke out of the water. There was a family of dolphins – right outside our house!
After calling everyone outside, Shelby grabs his iPhone to record this amazing experience. Me, being me, deposit baby Alexander with his dad and grab the two older boys to go swim with the dolphins. My smart-ass husband took this moment to pay homage to Jeff Foxworthy and call out to me as I made my way down the stairs with children in tow, “Would this be the moment that you need to yell ‘Here, hold my beer and watch this!’?” Isn’t he cute? While we make it out quite far, we don’t get close enough to actually swim with the dolphins; however, we are all on the lookout from whatever our vantage point for a good hour later. A small fish brushed oldest Christopher’s hand while we were waiting which was really cool! We watched pelicans swoop and fish and then we fed the seagulls. Later, we all helped to rinse down, wash up, collect stuff, and repack for the drive home. Everyone finally dropped into their car-seat, booster-seat, back-seat, or driver’s-seat for the drive home.
Here’s the most amazing thing: aside from the small amount of time the kids fell asleep to a movie on Saturday night, NO ONE ever looked to the television or a video game for entertainment. The children looked around and found the very best Mother Nature has to offer. Jelly fish, hermit crabs, blue crabs, seagulls, pelicans, dolphins, tidal pools and sandbars had become the playthings and play places of my children’s wonderment. For a brief moment, we were all transport back to a better place and time – one where we were responsible for our own entertainment and what could be found around us.
As most of us are getting ready for the back-to-school frenzy, I am planning to take a moment to relish in all the things we’ve done and learned this summer. From growing up to opening up, from stitches to fractures, and from technology to nature, my family has had quite the range of experiences. But at the end of the day, after their dinners and baths, they are calm and start to stretch out on the couches. They yawn and reflect. They remember these times that we give them. I am reminded that these are the days for which we signed up. These are the days for which we are grateful to be a parent.
Fast forward a few days later. While husband Shelby has been on five-day business trip to Philly, my children and I have been watching all the old Disney movies that we have on VHS format. We started watching “El Dorado” and middle son Simon didn’t get to watch the end because it was past his bed time. While I was driving him home from a broken-finger checkup, he lamented that he didn’t get to see the end of his movie. I suggested he watch it when we got home. His response was this – “Mom, this movie doesn’t have a ‘scene selection,’ how could I find where I was last night?” Really? What the hell happened to, hit the flippin’ rewind or fast-forward button and actually FIND what you are looking for?
Well, let me tell you about this past weekend… My in-laws rented a beach house in Freeport near San Louis Pass and had all the kids and grandkids in to help celebrate the birthday of Shelby’s step-dad, the end of summer, and another opportunity to take a boatload of pictures of the grandkids. On the drive down (mind you it is only about forty minutes or as we explain, a little over 2 “Sponge Bobs.”) the oldest two off-springs have their Nintendo DS and DSi playing Mario Brothers head-to-head. As they bicker about who got that particular “flower power” or “hey, you can’t kill me – it’s not fair!”, all I dream about is a slowing of technology. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE e-mail, Facebook, iTunes, and YouTube. But what about just going outside and PLAYING?!?!
Well, it only took that forty minute drive to solve that little question. As soon as we arrived and force-fed the children lunch amid the cries of “I’m not hungry! When can we play in the water?”; we did, indeed, head to the beach. All of a sudden we were transported back to an earlier and easier period of time. The kids dug in the sand, caught hermit crabs and small jelly fish, and tried to skim board. We came back to the house where they drank root beer while climbing in the rocks, finding blue crabs eating fish in a tidal pool, and went fishing in the surf. After dinner, they settled in to watch a movie while they nodded off from a busy day at the beach.
The next day the older boys and their cousins shot out the door shortly after breakfast to take a dip in the bay and try to boogie board in 3 feet of water. As my sister-in-law and her husband were packing up for the trek back to San Antonio, Shelby sought me out to see if the older boys needed sunscreen. Hhhmmm, let’s see – it’s 11:00 a.m., peak sun exposure time, and, oh, I don’t know, how long have you been doing this parenting thing?!?!?!? YES, THEY NEED SUNSCREEN! In the immortal words of the texting generation, WTF? After rounding up the youth for a quick slathering of what my husband calls “liquid flannel” and Shelby’s sister-in-law and her family set off, we journey down to the bay. We spend a lazy day in and out of the water and checking on all the sea creatures that were caught throughout the weekend. At one point while I was sitting on the deck eating lunch, I noticed two fins poke out of the water. There was a family of dolphins – right outside our house!
After calling everyone outside, Shelby grabs his iPhone to record this amazing experience. Me, being me, deposit baby Alexander with his dad and grab the two older boys to go swim with the dolphins. My smart-ass husband took this moment to pay homage to Jeff Foxworthy and call out to me as I made my way down the stairs with children in tow, “Would this be the moment that you need to yell ‘Here, hold my beer and watch this!’?” Isn’t he cute? While we make it out quite far, we don’t get close enough to actually swim with the dolphins; however, we are all on the lookout from whatever our vantage point for a good hour later. A small fish brushed oldest Christopher’s hand while we were waiting which was really cool! We watched pelicans swoop and fish and then we fed the seagulls. Later, we all helped to rinse down, wash up, collect stuff, and repack for the drive home. Everyone finally dropped into their car-seat, booster-seat, back-seat, or driver’s-seat for the drive home.
Here’s the most amazing thing: aside from the small amount of time the kids fell asleep to a movie on Saturday night, NO ONE ever looked to the television or a video game for entertainment. The children looked around and found the very best Mother Nature has to offer. Jelly fish, hermit crabs, blue crabs, seagulls, pelicans, dolphins, tidal pools and sandbars had become the playthings and play places of my children’s wonderment. For a brief moment, we were all transport back to a better place and time – one where we were responsible for our own entertainment and what could be found around us.
As most of us are getting ready for the back-to-school frenzy, I am planning to take a moment to relish in all the things we’ve done and learned this summer. From growing up to opening up, from stitches to fractures, and from technology to nature, my family has had quite the range of experiences. But at the end of the day, after their dinners and baths, they are calm and start to stretch out on the couches. They yawn and reflect. They remember these times that we give them. I am reminded that these are the days for which we signed up. These are the days for which we are grateful to be a parent.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Who are you and what happened to the man I married?
Well, we all knew it wouldn’t last long. The “Love Fest 2010” I spoke about in my last post would, inevitably, come to an end at some point. I just didn’t think it would be so soon. Don’t get me wrong, we all need moments of affirmation of our love and dedication to our family. You know, what I call the Hallmark moments – those things that are described in a Hallmark card that we, as parents or spouses, ALMOST feel until the next time one of our blessings totally piss us off. If you ask me, I think Hallmark has missed the mark. Could you just imagine a line of cards designed and written by disgruntled parents, primarily mothers? I would soooo buy stock. But I digress…
So, one morning I have to take middle son Simon to the doctor for complications related to his fractured finger. For those of you who haven’t been following the saga, he fractured his right ring finger and later had to go back in to have the swelling under the nail drained. Well fast forward to the present. It looks totally funky and it hurts to the touch. I say it’s infected and the males in my household say it’s fine. I say we need to see the doctor, they say I need to move out of the way so they can see the video. Good thing the world isn’t coming to an end. Unless my children believe in Mario as a higher power, I really think there is no hope for them.
As I was driving to the orthopedist, I was thinking about all of the recent medical interventions that have been needed. Youngest Alexander cut his head and needed the cut to be super-glued, a.k.a. Dermabonded. Middle child Simon fractured his finger and had ensuing complications. I told oldest child Christopher that he would spending the remainder of the summer enveloped in bubble-wrap and placed in the very center of the room away from all potential threats and pointy corners. I simply can’t take another accident and can’t afford another flippin’ hospital co-pay. During this mother-imposed injury hiatus, Christopher had to go to the doctor for his well-child checkup. For Christopher, my hypersensitive child, this sends him into orbit and he becomes fixated on the “what ifs” of the examine – “What if I have to get shots?” “What if I have to do a blood test?” or, on a positive note in his mind, “What if I get to pee in a cup?!?!”
My gripe here isn’t with the children. I know they are active and need the medical attention that the Western world affords. And thank you very much for the inoculations that keep them safe - smallpox sounds like it really sucks! My irritant here is my dear husband. Why is it that I am the one who has to leave work, repeatedly, to attend to the day in and day out needs of our children? Why can’t my darling husband take a regularly scheduled look at Simon’s finger, realize that the bizarre colors might hint at infection, and decide that he is compelled to take his child to the doctor as soon as the doc’s schedule allows? This material oversight extends to all the items dropped in my house that are ignored until such time as I become the main character from the movie, “The Exorcist.” You know the one I’m referring to – the screaming, head-turning 180-degree, split-pea-soup spewing, entity. Regardless of our religious affiliation, perhaps we do need a priest…
So the other afternoon, I take all three kids plus Christopher’s friend, Alex, to the pool. Upon arriving home, Simon’s friend, Drake and his dad appear on the doorstep to invite everyone over. Pretty soon, everyone decides to stay at our house for the weekly Friday-night pizza making dinner. The older kids are in the living room, the middle kids are in the office, and the youngest has become the Tazmanian devil who I can’t contain in any room. As the evening progresses, the older kids go out for ice cream and later crash at our house for a sleep-over. The two youngest crawl in bed with me because we are exhausted and the three older children (Christopher, his friend, and husband Shelby) plop down in the living room to watch the X-Games. After serving them popcorn and making up the futon with fresh sheets and pillow, I go to bed.
Thankfully, Shelby stayed up with the guys until they fell asleep and then got up and went to the store for bagels and other assorted breakfast items. On a side note, the only reason he got bagels was because youngest child Alex keep mumbling about wanting to eat something that sounded an awful lot like bagels. My poor husband didn’t realize that all the fresh bagels in Meyerland are purchased on Friday afternoon for Saturday morning and had a devil of a time trying to find some. After arriving home with his stash of mini-bagels and cream cheese, it turned out that Alex wanted sprinkles for breakfast – you know, the brightly colored bits of frosting that go on ice cream or cupcakes. How we mixed up “bagels” and “sprinkles” I have no idea but anyway…
This morning, Shelby dug up and replanted a small tree that I had been asking him to do. Okay, so I had been asking for at least four weeks but, hey, it finally got done. He also helped to fold the socks on the last load of laundry – I washed and folded five other loads previously. I’ve never read “Men are from Mars Women are from Venus” but I’m pretty sure the author might let the readers in on a few secrets about the differences between men and women. Namely the fact that we don’t see the same things and, clearly, don’t have the same priorities.
I’ve developed the 3-foot theory in my house. Mind you, I’m not a scientist and I don’t play one on television but this seems to ring true with all the females with whom I’ve compared notes. Males can not physically see anything outside of a three foot diameter from their eyeballs – the range changes exponentially with age. So is it really their fault if they can consistently step over the same pair of socks for weeks at a time?
Regardless of how irritated I get with him, Shelby steps up at the most amazingly appropriate times – the sleep-over, Boy Scout and Cub Scout campouts (especially the campouts), and morning breakfast runs. He is leaving in the morning for a week long business trip and I know he will be missed. Not only by the kids but by me as well. Don’t worry, I’ll begin to miss him just in time for him to return home for my next post!
So, one morning I have to take middle son Simon to the doctor for complications related to his fractured finger. For those of you who haven’t been following the saga, he fractured his right ring finger and later had to go back in to have the swelling under the nail drained. Well fast forward to the present. It looks totally funky and it hurts to the touch. I say it’s infected and the males in my household say it’s fine. I say we need to see the doctor, they say I need to move out of the way so they can see the video. Good thing the world isn’t coming to an end. Unless my children believe in Mario as a higher power, I really think there is no hope for them.
As I was driving to the orthopedist, I was thinking about all of the recent medical interventions that have been needed. Youngest Alexander cut his head and needed the cut to be super-glued, a.k.a. Dermabonded. Middle child Simon fractured his finger and had ensuing complications. I told oldest child Christopher that he would spending the remainder of the summer enveloped in bubble-wrap and placed in the very center of the room away from all potential threats and pointy corners. I simply can’t take another accident and can’t afford another flippin’ hospital co-pay. During this mother-imposed injury hiatus, Christopher had to go to the doctor for his well-child checkup. For Christopher, my hypersensitive child, this sends him into orbit and he becomes fixated on the “what ifs” of the examine – “What if I have to get shots?” “What if I have to do a blood test?” or, on a positive note in his mind, “What if I get to pee in a cup?!?!”
My gripe here isn’t with the children. I know they are active and need the medical attention that the Western world affords. And thank you very much for the inoculations that keep them safe - smallpox sounds like it really sucks! My irritant here is my dear husband. Why is it that I am the one who has to leave work, repeatedly, to attend to the day in and day out needs of our children? Why can’t my darling husband take a regularly scheduled look at Simon’s finger, realize that the bizarre colors might hint at infection, and decide that he is compelled to take his child to the doctor as soon as the doc’s schedule allows? This material oversight extends to all the items dropped in my house that are ignored until such time as I become the main character from the movie, “The Exorcist.” You know the one I’m referring to – the screaming, head-turning 180-degree, split-pea-soup spewing, entity. Regardless of our religious affiliation, perhaps we do need a priest…
So the other afternoon, I take all three kids plus Christopher’s friend, Alex, to the pool. Upon arriving home, Simon’s friend, Drake and his dad appear on the doorstep to invite everyone over. Pretty soon, everyone decides to stay at our house for the weekly Friday-night pizza making dinner. The older kids are in the living room, the middle kids are in the office, and the youngest has become the Tazmanian devil who I can’t contain in any room. As the evening progresses, the older kids go out for ice cream and later crash at our house for a sleep-over. The two youngest crawl in bed with me because we are exhausted and the three older children (Christopher, his friend, and husband Shelby) plop down in the living room to watch the X-Games. After serving them popcorn and making up the futon with fresh sheets and pillow, I go to bed.
Thankfully, Shelby stayed up with the guys until they fell asleep and then got up and went to the store for bagels and other assorted breakfast items. On a side note, the only reason he got bagels was because youngest child Alex keep mumbling about wanting to eat something that sounded an awful lot like bagels. My poor husband didn’t realize that all the fresh bagels in Meyerland are purchased on Friday afternoon for Saturday morning and had a devil of a time trying to find some. After arriving home with his stash of mini-bagels and cream cheese, it turned out that Alex wanted sprinkles for breakfast – you know, the brightly colored bits of frosting that go on ice cream or cupcakes. How we mixed up “bagels” and “sprinkles” I have no idea but anyway…
This morning, Shelby dug up and replanted a small tree that I had been asking him to do. Okay, so I had been asking for at least four weeks but, hey, it finally got done. He also helped to fold the socks on the last load of laundry – I washed and folded five other loads previously. I’ve never read “Men are from Mars Women are from Venus” but I’m pretty sure the author might let the readers in on a few secrets about the differences between men and women. Namely the fact that we don’t see the same things and, clearly, don’t have the same priorities.
I’ve developed the 3-foot theory in my house. Mind you, I’m not a scientist and I don’t play one on television but this seems to ring true with all the females with whom I’ve compared notes. Males can not physically see anything outside of a three foot diameter from their eyeballs – the range changes exponentially with age. So is it really their fault if they can consistently step over the same pair of socks for weeks at a time?
Regardless of how irritated I get with him, Shelby steps up at the most amazingly appropriate times – the sleep-over, Boy Scout and Cub Scout campouts (especially the campouts), and morning breakfast runs. He is leaving in the morning for a week long business trip and I know he will be missed. Not only by the kids but by me as well. Don’t worry, I’ll begin to miss him just in time for him to return home for my next post!
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