As I begin this post, I realize how many others I have started and never finished in the last few months.
This one will be different...
I really can't believe it's already here. Summer Vacation.
School is out, again, for another summer break. Another grade is completed and this time, it was a year full of good things. Both the boys had amazing years, made friends and met goals. I was thoroughly impressed with progress reports and IEP meetings but never found the time to shout from the hilltops, like I would have not-so-long ago.
I'll start with Phoenix.
At the beginning of the year, we were still about a year behind in some areas, with many of our goals from the previous year still "In Progress". When I met with his teacher for his IEP meeting, a wave of change had rolled through.
We had met goals and were making new ones.
Speech had improved, greatly.
Concepts were sinking in and being understood.
He was finding traction and gaining speed.
It felt good to hear that after such a long struggle, we were finally in a good place. We were finally getting him to where he needs to be for his age. Last week when I got his final progress report, I cried.
Goal after goal read "Met Standards" and while we may still be a year behind in a few places, quite a few of the standards met this year were second grade standards. SECOND GRADE STANDARDS.
It blows my mind how unphased he is, how persistent and determined he is. He gets discouraged, yes. His confidence is still less than I would like. He still struggles a lot in everyday life but we are getting somewhere. For that, I am beyond thankful & grateful.
I am in awe of this little being I have helped to create and mold. He has had so many challenges; even though they seem small, they have had a big impact on him and they still would be if nothing had been done to help him find his way. Karate has helped him blossom more and come out of his shell, almost as if he's becoming more comfortable in his own skin; almost as if he's beginning to learn to love himself.
It's incredible and wonderful and awesome.
Paxton, on the other hand, has never stopped blowing my mind.
I was so worried about him, convinced he was going to have the same problems Phoenix did. I got him evaluated and did speech therapy at Sac State for a semester, went to the school district and got him an IEP, got him into preschool with his IEP. He had pull-out speech services on campus twice a week and I thought about another semester at Sac State, then the baby cried and I was thrusted back to reality with the conclusion that maybe I wasn't capable of doing another semester at Sac State.
At this point, he's already doing better than Phoenix was at the same age and is flying through things that tripped Phoenix up like basic concepts, letter recognition and sounds, so I really don't feel all that guilty. Paxton also doesn't have the inner ear problem Phoenix does, so that has to help too (with my Mom-guilt and his progress in speech).
In just this first year of preschool he's made phenomenal progress and when I say my mind is blown, I'm not exaggerating. At the beginning of this year, he knew a few letters; like the letters to his name. When I went to his parent/teacher meeting in May, his teacher confided that he can identify all 26 letters, upper and lower case, and the sounds they make, that he can spell and, this blew her mind too, that he can read.
Oh yes. He can read.
He still has speech issues, to be clear. He jumbles words together when he's trying to speak in sentences (cluster reduction) or leaves the last sound of words off (final consonant deletion) but these are normal, common processing errors for kids learning to speak and he's not that far behind. Most speech processing errors correct themselves by age 4 and Paxton's fifth birthday is just a few months away so I'm fairly confident these processes will resolve themselves if we just keep doing speech therapy at school and working on speech at home.
It gives me hope that Korben might, possibly, not have any speech issues at all but that's a bridge I'll cross when I come to it. For now, I'm going to take the progress that's been made, the goals that have been met, the leaps and bounds that have been taken and enjoy them for what the are: signs that Jay & I are doing what we need to do for our boys, signs that our boys are healthy and happy and learning and growing and thriving. I'm going to sit back and look at my boys and be proud. Of them, for getting to where they are, and of myself, for helping to get them there.
Seeing them succeed is the greatest proof that I am not a complete and utter failure and that's something I'm clinging to desperately right now.
Showing posts with label Kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kids. Show all posts
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Thursday, November 14, 2013
The Return
I might be overdoing it a bit when I say it feels like I've completed some sort of epic, Iliad-like quest but I'm saying it anyways.
This having a baby thing was IS crazy-hard!
I think we're finding our groove again but it's still a work in progress for sure. Life is always difficult when a new baby comes home, I just managed to forget how difficult it can be those first few weeks. In this case, it wasn't the baby that was challenging; it was everything else.
Dealing with two older kids, a house & a business on top of a baby was what I hadn't really planned for. I mean, I knew I was going to have to do it; I just didn't think it would be as impossible as it was... Thankfully, I think the hardest part is behind us and OMG, is this baby adorable!
He's almost three months old now. Phoenix & Paxton are getting used to him, although Phoenix isn't as interested in him as Paxton is. I think it's harder for Phoenix because he is the oldest; he knows now that another baby means less attention for himself and he's determined to make sure he doesn't get left out, even if it means getting into trouble. Negative attention is still attention, right? And if you can get the whole family to stop, you get a lot of attention. We're working on learning to explain how we feel and exploring what makes us feel the way we do. It's a hard concept for anyone to grasp; it's even harder for a seven year old with processing issues to understand.
Paxton, on the other hand, is doing fabulously. He's adjusted much better than I had expected. No major regressions; no real jealousy over Korben; no behavior problems at school. He's had a few moments of dislike when I need to take Korben with us to lay down for nap (which I totally get: that's our us time) but he's pretty much in love with his little brother. He's doing really well in preschool & his speech is getting better every day. He's farther along at this age than Phoenix was so I'm hopeful he'll be caught up in another year or two; he's even spelling words, including his name!
Jay's been working non-stop; no maternity leave for the self-employed dad. Wah wah wah. We had his Grammy with us for a week or so after Korben came home & there have been a few visits from family but for the most part, we've been on our own. Jay works as much as possible, booking rentals on the weekends and any open weekdays. Which leaves me alone with the three kids a lot. Yes, it's my job as a SAHM but that doesn't mean it's sunshine & roses 24/7. Especially with a newborn, two older-but-still-dependant kids and a house to maintain. Keeping us all fed, clothes & bathed has been a challenge, to put it lightly. Something to do with a baby constantly latched to a boob, I dunno...
I'll admit I've learned to do so many things with one hand or while breastfeeding. In fact, I should probably get a medal or something, for real. Physically, I'm back to the old me. Scratch that. I'm back to a version of old me but one that has BOOBS. Yup, one perk to breastfeeding when you've got smaller-than-average chesticules and I am enjoying them immensely. Getting back to myself, mentally & emotionally, has been harder. That whole perception-meets-reality conundrum. Things just weren't what I thought they would be. They still aren't and they probably will never be. That's the thing with perceptions; even when they are yours, they aren't always right.
I'm coming to terms with my new reality, getting used to things & finding a balance that works for us, building a new routine. I'll fill you in on all that's happened between this post and my last over a few posts but this will have to satisfy you for now. You can put your mind at ease and finally breathe a sigh of relief:
I am back.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
We choose NOT to spank. Here's why.
This last weekend, I came across a great article about alternative 'disciplinary' tools to use in place of spanking and, being that we're a family who has forgone spanking, I shared it on my page.
I was not expecting to get the reaction I did.
It was not good.
I was floored. Really?? I'm a bad mom because I don't want to hit my kids? Are you kidding me?? Are we still that primitive? Sure, your parents may have spanked you. Maybe your grandparents used a switch on them. That doesn't make it okay. At all.
Times change. We learn new things. We change and evolve. So should the way we raise our kids. We aren't sending our daughters off to get married at 12 and 13. We don't reserve education for our sons alone. We have learned the brains of infants are much more malleable than we had ever believed possible. Science has proven that sustained physical punishment has caused brain damage. Yes, brain damage.
Don't believe me? Here's an example of what Dr. Laura Markham, a clinical psychologist specializing in relationship-based parenting, has to say about spanking.
Read the whole article for yourself here. No, really. Read it. Even if you do believe me.
Think about it like this; childhood is preparing you for adulthood. If you're repeatedly being hit to gain your compliance, what are you likely to do to get others to comply with you & your desires? You just might try hitting them...
I was rarely spanked as a child but I was never really taught how to properly deal with my anger, anxiety or any negative emotions. I learned early on to bottle shit up and I can clearly remember having anxiety attacks as young as 7 and 8 years old. My mom didn't deal with "bad" feelings well and I followed in her footsteps but worse, even.
My mom and I have only had a few physical confrontations but in my book, one is too many. I remember the first time she ever really hit me and the damage it did to our relationship. My dad was much more of a 'presence'. He hated spanking me; he came from a very abusive family and he felt that spanking was a slippery slope.
I feel the same way.
I have anger issues. I have had to learn in adulthood how to deal with my "bad" feelings in a positive, healthy way. It is hard. When I am stressed out, distracted, busy, I get angry faster than I normally would. I'm pregnant and hormonal and that makes it even worse right now. I'm a yeller and a "loud talker" and I can be scary. Straight up.
Moms are not supposed to be scary.
Moms are supposed to be soft and cuddly and occasionally tough but always filled with love, understanding and comfort.
If I believed spanking was an acceptable form of parenting and punishment, I can see myself using it as an outlet for my anger. I said it and I mean it. I can see myself taking my anger out on my kids through spanking.
And that scares the fucking shit out of me.
It should. It's not right. It's horrible. The idea that I am so angry and incapable of dealing with that anger that I would resort to hitting my kids to get it out is disgusting to me and a very real problem for a lot of parents.
We are here to teach these kids and we are obligated to do better for them than our parents did for us. It's the only way to keep getting better. It's the only way to grow as humans, emotionally & mentally. We are not the primitive cavemen we once were because we learned. We learned to make tools, to farm & cultivate food. We evolved. We became smarter.
Aren't we smart enough to see the damage we cause when we use our hands instead of our words? Our kids are smarter than we realize and they are more than capable of thought. They can understand right from wrong when it's explained to them. When they are shown there are consequences for every action, good and bad, they learn. They become capable of thinking for themselves and they make better choices because they see the benefits.
I want my boys to grow up strong, confident and full of love and self-respect. I don't want them to question themselves or their worth because someone tells them they aren't good enough. I do not want them to be fearful of anyone, at any time. I want them to feel powerful enough to speak out when they see wrong in the world. I want them to stand up for themselves when people treat them badly. I want them to know that love is unconditional; I want to teach them they don't need to be someone else's idea of perfect to be loved, that being themselves is perfect enough.
I choose to parent in ways that don't resort to physical or corporal punishment and I ask every parent out there to at least look at the other options available out there. It's about being the best parents we can be, right? Don't we owe it to our kids to change if changing is what's best for them?
I think we do and I hope I'm not alone. Next Monday, April 30th, is Spank Out Day, USA. On this day, parents, guardians & caregivers are encouraged not to hit or spank & to seek out other forms of punishment. Programs are available nationwide; at churches, schools and other community outlets. Sometimes, they're even free or have low-cost options. You can find a link to the Spank Out Day, USA website here.
For one day, give your hand, and your kids' butts, a rest. It's only one day.
Here are a few more links to some articles, websites and books I find useful:
How to handle your anger at your child
Positive Parents
Peaceful Parent, Happy Kids
Parenting with Love & Logic
I was not expecting to get the reaction I did.
It was not good.
I was floored. Really?? I'm a bad mom because I don't want to hit my kids? Are you kidding me?? Are we still that primitive? Sure, your parents may have spanked you. Maybe your grandparents used a switch on them. That doesn't make it okay. At all.
Times change. We learn new things. We change and evolve. So should the way we raise our kids. We aren't sending our daughters off to get married at 12 and 13. We don't reserve education for our sons alone. We have learned the brains of infants are much more malleable than we had ever believed possible. Science has proven that sustained physical punishment has caused brain damage. Yes, brain damage.
Don't believe me? Here's an example of what Dr. Laura Markham, a clinical psychologist specializing in relationship-based parenting, has to say about spanking.
"A 2012 study reviewed the previous two decades of research and confirmed that children who are spanked have less gray matter in their brains, and are more likely to exhibit depression, anxiety, drug use, and aggression as they get older. The only positive outcome that's ever been shown from corporal punishment is immediate compliance; however, corporal punishment is associated with less long-term compliance. Corporal punishment has repeatedly been linked with nine other negative outcomes, including increased rates of aggression, delinquency, mental health problems, and problems in relationships with their parents."
Read the whole article for yourself here. No, really. Read it. Even if you do believe me.
Think about it like this; childhood is preparing you for adulthood. If you're repeatedly being hit to gain your compliance, what are you likely to do to get others to comply with you & your desires? You just might try hitting them...
I was rarely spanked as a child but I was never really taught how to properly deal with my anger, anxiety or any negative emotions. I learned early on to bottle shit up and I can clearly remember having anxiety attacks as young as 7 and 8 years old. My mom didn't deal with "bad" feelings well and I followed in her footsteps but worse, even.
My mom and I have only had a few physical confrontations but in my book, one is too many. I remember the first time she ever really hit me and the damage it did to our relationship. My dad was much more of a 'presence'. He hated spanking me; he came from a very abusive family and he felt that spanking was a slippery slope.
I feel the same way.
I have anger issues. I have had to learn in adulthood how to deal with my "bad" feelings in a positive, healthy way. It is hard. When I am stressed out, distracted, busy, I get angry faster than I normally would. I'm pregnant and hormonal and that makes it even worse right now. I'm a yeller and a "loud talker" and I can be scary. Straight up.
Moms are not supposed to be scary.
Moms are supposed to be soft and cuddly and occasionally tough but always filled with love, understanding and comfort.
If I believed spanking was an acceptable form of parenting and punishment, I can see myself using it as an outlet for my anger. I said it and I mean it. I can see myself taking my anger out on my kids through spanking.
And that scares the fucking shit out of me.
It should. It's not right. It's horrible. The idea that I am so angry and incapable of dealing with that anger that I would resort to hitting my kids to get it out is disgusting to me and a very real problem for a lot of parents.
We are here to teach these kids and we are obligated to do better for them than our parents did for us. It's the only way to keep getting better. It's the only way to grow as humans, emotionally & mentally. We are not the primitive cavemen we once were because we learned. We learned to make tools, to farm & cultivate food. We evolved. We became smarter.
Aren't we smart enough to see the damage we cause when we use our hands instead of our words? Our kids are smarter than we realize and they are more than capable of thought. They can understand right from wrong when it's explained to them. When they are shown there are consequences for every action, good and bad, they learn. They become capable of thinking for themselves and they make better choices because they see the benefits.
I want my boys to grow up strong, confident and full of love and self-respect. I don't want them to question themselves or their worth because someone tells them they aren't good enough. I do not want them to be fearful of anyone, at any time. I want them to feel powerful enough to speak out when they see wrong in the world. I want them to stand up for themselves when people treat them badly. I want them to know that love is unconditional; I want to teach them they don't need to be someone else's idea of perfect to be loved, that being themselves is perfect enough.
I choose to parent in ways that don't resort to physical or corporal punishment and I ask every parent out there to at least look at the other options available out there. It's about being the best parents we can be, right? Don't we owe it to our kids to change if changing is what's best for them?
I think we do and I hope I'm not alone. Next Monday, April 30th, is Spank Out Day, USA. On this day, parents, guardians & caregivers are encouraged not to hit or spank & to seek out other forms of punishment. Programs are available nationwide; at churches, schools and other community outlets. Sometimes, they're even free or have low-cost options. You can find a link to the Spank Out Day, USA website here.
For one day, give your hand, and your kids' butts, a rest. It's only one day.
Here are a few more links to some articles, websites and books I find useful:
How to handle your anger at your child
Positive Parents
Peaceful Parent, Happy Kids
Parenting with Love & Logic
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Wordless Wednesday -- Let's get physical...exams.
 |
| Doubling up & killing two physicals in one visit |
 |
| Paxton's "I'm not feeling this" face |
 |
| Audio test -- I never trust these things... |
 |
| 'SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! E'RYBODY!' |
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
I say "No" to football
Many of you may think I'm crazy for it; maybe even "un-American" since football seems to be near & dear to our nation's heart but hear me out.
In our house, we don't watch football. We don't follow teams or players. We got excited when the Broncos made it to the Super Bowl, until we found out the one player we felt like rooting for, was made a free agent at the end if the regular season. He wouldn't be playing in the Super Bowl & we quickly lost interest.
That's not why football is a no-go for me; I'm still working up to that. Stick with me here, folks.
Let's go back seven years or so to Phoenix's very first summer. It was great; warm, sunny and perfect as far as Oregon summers go. Jay was working & I was job hunting so Phoenix was in daycare during the day. A nice little daycare where they filled out diaper reports and shit so you felt like your kid was being properly cared for in your absence.
I found a job at a flooring store close to home but had to work Saturdays, with Wednesday and Sunday off. One normal-seeming Saturday morning, my mom called my cell phone while I was at work. Jay had dropped the baby off with her so he could go rafting with friends.
I wasn't thrilled about that and when she told me Phoenix had a bump on his head, I told her to call Jay and a round of phone tag began. Long story short, the four of us ended up in the emergency room of our local children's hospital, where Jay & I got to experience the "excitement" & "fun" of holding down our screaming, frightened baby for a CT scan.
That's when we found out that "bump" was a FUCKING SKULL FRACTURE. And the real drama started...
I will spare you the details of what happened next but it involved law enforcement, DHS and child services, 24-hour supervision for us & Phoenix, polygraphs and a big investigation that ultimately found out nothing. It ripped apart my relationship with my mom and nearly destroyed the relationship between Jay & I. It traumatized both of us beyond belief or possible explanation and created in us an intense fear for Phoenix's safety & his future.
We have never been the same since.
Phoenix is seven now and while we still carry the scars, he has no clue of what he's been through. He's active and smart and besides his speech delay, he's a pretty 'typical' kid. Which is what scares me. You can't SEE his brain; we don't know what's going on in there. We have no idea.
What does any of this have to do with football?? EVERYTHING. ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING.
When I'm talking with other parents, other family members, and the subject of sports comes up, I am always the Odd Man Out because I am completely open & honest about the fact that I will NEVER, EVER consent to Phoenix playing football.
I get RIPPED APART and I can't stand it. Not only is it MY choice as his parent, IT COULD BE DEADLY FOR HIM. One wrong hit, one concussion, & my boy could be gone FOREVER. Do I really seem crazy for keeping him out of a sport that could kill him??
I don't think so.
You want to let your kid risk concussions and BRAIN DAMAGE, that's YOUR CHOICE. You will have to live with your decision, just like I live with mine.
And before you ask, yes, I do realize I am putting my fears first here but in this instance, I think it's the right thing to do. Sure, you can tell me I'm being a bad mom, that I'm holding him back from life. You could argue the millions of other ways he could re-injure himself or say I'm simply being overly protective & paranoid.
You are entitled to your opinion but whatever your argument is, I have some questions for you: what if I'm right and you're wrong?? What if I do let him play and he takes that one bad hit, gets that one concussion that causes bruising or swelling or bleeding?? Will you be here, in my shoes??
NO. YOU WON'T BE.
You don't stand to lose something more precious to you than your own life. You won't have to deal with the fallout. You won't have to feel the emotions. Even now, you are outside, un-involved, except for the limited view I am choosing to share with you.
I am right in the middle.
I have lived with an unhinging, nausea-inducing fear for the last seven years; every fall, every accident, every bump on the head, has caused a panic that shakes me to my core and threatens to steal my sanity. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. I literally black out, tunnel vision. All I see is Phoenix. Is there blood? Are his eyes dilated? Does he feel sick? Is he responding properly? Should we go to the E.R.? And Jay is even worse. For him, this is a wound that reopens with every new injury, whether it's a bump on the head or a stubbed toe. I think coming so close to losing Phoenix, and the trauma that followed, almost broke him.
Every headache Phoenix complains about has us looking sideways at each other and inevitably, I'm reaching for the phone, calling the pediatrician.
'He has a headache?' 'Yes, ma'am. A headache.' 'Just give him some ibuprofen; he'll be fine.'
Yeah, they think I'm crazy too.
Until you've experienced that most-intense level of fear -- fear for the life of your child -- you can't begin to understand the heart-stopping panic, the debilitating fear, the amount of thought that we put into every choice that involves Phoenix, his safety especially. I'm not above admitting that I breath a sigh of relief every time he decides learning to ride his bike or skateboard is "too hard" or when we just can't afford sports. I try to be encouraging because I do not want his confidence to lessen any more but deep down inside, I'm grateful I have one less thing to worry about.
He has a bike, and a helmet, and a skateboard. He doesn't use them. He does rides the shit out of his scooter, though; with his helmet, of course. I don't want you thinking I have him swathed in bubble wrap, living in a padded room or some craziness.
I know projecting my own fears on him isn't at all fair.
I know I need to get over the fear of what could happen because YES, HE WILL GET HURT.
I know I can't avoid it.
I have to do everything I can to help him live a normal, active, life, which means making sure he does stuff like learn to ride a bike. And that he does it often. I need to let him be a kid. Playing sports is part of that and I have to let him participate; he wants to and he is more than capable. He needs to be around kids his age, doing things that don't revolve entirely around speech. He needs to be building relationships and learning how to work with others. I have to nurture him & help him grow; I am holding him back & I have to stop it.
I just don't have to let him play football.
In our house, we don't watch football. We don't follow teams or players. We got excited when the Broncos made it to the Super Bowl, until we found out the one player we felt like rooting for, was made a free agent at the end if the regular season. He wouldn't be playing in the Super Bowl & we quickly lost interest.
That's not why football is a no-go for me; I'm still working up to that. Stick with me here, folks.
Let's go back seven years or so to Phoenix's very first summer. It was great; warm, sunny and perfect as far as Oregon summers go. Jay was working & I was job hunting so Phoenix was in daycare during the day. A nice little daycare where they filled out diaper reports and shit so you felt like your kid was being properly cared for in your absence.
I found a job at a flooring store close to home but had to work Saturdays, with Wednesday and Sunday off. One normal-seeming Saturday morning, my mom called my cell phone while I was at work. Jay had dropped the baby off with her so he could go rafting with friends.
I wasn't thrilled about that and when she told me Phoenix had a bump on his head, I told her to call Jay and a round of phone tag began. Long story short, the four of us ended up in the emergency room of our local children's hospital, where Jay & I got to experience the "excitement" & "fun" of holding down our screaming, frightened baby for a CT scan.
That's when we found out that "bump" was a FUCKING SKULL FRACTURE. And the real drama started...
I will spare you the details of what happened next but it involved law enforcement, DHS and child services, 24-hour supervision for us & Phoenix, polygraphs and a big investigation that ultimately found out nothing. It ripped apart my relationship with my mom and nearly destroyed the relationship between Jay & I. It traumatized both of us beyond belief or possible explanation and created in us an intense fear for Phoenix's safety & his future.
We have never been the same since.
Phoenix is seven now and while we still carry the scars, he has no clue of what he's been through. He's active and smart and besides his speech delay, he's a pretty 'typical' kid. Which is what scares me. You can't SEE his brain; we don't know what's going on in there. We have no idea.
What does any of this have to do with football?? EVERYTHING. ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING.
When I'm talking with other parents, other family members, and the subject of sports comes up, I am always the Odd Man Out because I am completely open & honest about the fact that I will NEVER, EVER consent to Phoenix playing football.
I get RIPPED APART and I can't stand it. Not only is it MY choice as his parent, IT COULD BE DEADLY FOR HIM. One wrong hit, one concussion, & my boy could be gone FOREVER. Do I really seem crazy for keeping him out of a sport that could kill him??
I don't think so.
You want to let your kid risk concussions and BRAIN DAMAGE, that's YOUR CHOICE. You will have to live with your decision, just like I live with mine.
And before you ask, yes, I do realize I am putting my fears first here but in this instance, I think it's the right thing to do. Sure, you can tell me I'm being a bad mom, that I'm holding him back from life. You could argue the millions of other ways he could re-injure himself or say I'm simply being overly protective & paranoid.
You are entitled to your opinion but whatever your argument is, I have some questions for you: what if I'm right and you're wrong?? What if I do let him play and he takes that one bad hit, gets that one concussion that causes bruising or swelling or bleeding?? Will you be here, in my shoes??
NO. YOU WON'T BE.
You don't stand to lose something more precious to you than your own life. You won't have to deal with the fallout. You won't have to feel the emotions. Even now, you are outside, un-involved, except for the limited view I am choosing to share with you.
I am right in the middle.
I have lived with an unhinging, nausea-inducing fear for the last seven years; every fall, every accident, every bump on the head, has caused a panic that shakes me to my core and threatens to steal my sanity. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. I literally black out, tunnel vision. All I see is Phoenix. Is there blood? Are his eyes dilated? Does he feel sick? Is he responding properly? Should we go to the E.R.? And Jay is even worse. For him, this is a wound that reopens with every new injury, whether it's a bump on the head or a stubbed toe. I think coming so close to losing Phoenix, and the trauma that followed, almost broke him.
Every headache Phoenix complains about has us looking sideways at each other and inevitably, I'm reaching for the phone, calling the pediatrician.
'He has a headache?' 'Yes, ma'am. A headache.' 'Just give him some ibuprofen; he'll be fine.'
Yeah, they think I'm crazy too.
Until you've experienced that most-intense level of fear -- fear for the life of your child -- you can't begin to understand the heart-stopping panic, the debilitating fear, the amount of thought that we put into every choice that involves Phoenix, his safety especially. I'm not above admitting that I breath a sigh of relief every time he decides learning to ride his bike or skateboard is "too hard" or when we just can't afford sports. I try to be encouraging because I do not want his confidence to lessen any more but deep down inside, I'm grateful I have one less thing to worry about.
He has a bike, and a helmet, and a skateboard. He doesn't use them. He does rides the shit out of his scooter, though; with his helmet, of course. I don't want you thinking I have him swathed in bubble wrap, living in a padded room or some craziness.
I know projecting my own fears on him isn't at all fair.
I know I need to get over the fear of what could happen because YES, HE WILL GET HURT.
I know I can't avoid it.
I have to do everything I can to help him live a normal, active, life, which means making sure he does stuff like learn to ride a bike. And that he does it often. I need to let him be a kid. Playing sports is part of that and I have to let him participate; he wants to and he is more than capable. He needs to be around kids his age, doing things that don't revolve entirely around speech. He needs to be building relationships and learning how to work with others. I have to nurture him & help him grow; I am holding him back & I have to stop it.
I just don't have to let him play football.
Friday, November 16, 2012
The Tooth Fairy FAILS
You might remember seeing something on the Facebook page about Phoenix losing his first tooth a couple weeks ago. It was a huge day in our house as this was the first tooth EVER to find its way under a pillow and into the hands of the Tooth Fairy. Except, things didn't quite go quite as planned....
When I was a kid, I remember waking up after losing a tooth and excitedly flipping over my pillow, looking for the quarters, or dollar, if it was molar. Now, as a mom, I realize the straight-up ninja skills my mom must have utilized to get that tooth out and put that quarter or dollar in its place and I will admit here, to you guys ONLY, that I totally, completely and utterly FAILED my first time as the Tooth Fairy.
No, I didn't wake him up in the exchange.
No, I didn't lose the lost tooth.
No, I didn't leave him something lame like a penny or a toothbrush.
I FORGOT TO PUT ANYTHING THERE AT ALL. Plain old FORGOT.
In my own defense, if you come to our house anytime after dark, be it five minutes after sundown or 9:45 at night, chances are pretty good I will look like a member of the Living Dead and could very well be passed out on the couch. Honestly though, is there really any excuse for a blunder THIS BIG??
I covered it up really well when he came in to tell me the Tooth Fairy forgot about him, running down to the cupboard and snatching up the $2 bill I had saved for his first lost tooth. I found the little bag we'd put his tooth in still under his pillow and quickly shoved the bill in there, while taking the tooth out. I handed him the bag as I jumped back into my bed and told him to look again, maybe his money had been "hiding".
He wasn't impressed.
He was excited about his two dollars, though & thankfully, doesn't have any other loose teeth. The Tooth Fairy needs a break and a chance to regroup; another mess up like this and she is done for.
When I was a kid, I remember waking up after losing a tooth and excitedly flipping over my pillow, looking for the quarters, or dollar, if it was molar. Now, as a mom, I realize the straight-up ninja skills my mom must have utilized to get that tooth out and put that quarter or dollar in its place and I will admit here, to you guys ONLY, that I totally, completely and utterly FAILED my first time as the Tooth Fairy.
No, I didn't wake him up in the exchange.
No, I didn't lose the lost tooth.
No, I didn't leave him something lame like a penny or a toothbrush.
I FORGOT TO PUT ANYTHING THERE AT ALL. Plain old FORGOT.
In my own defense, if you come to our house anytime after dark, be it five minutes after sundown or 9:45 at night, chances are pretty good I will look like a member of the Living Dead and could very well be passed out on the couch. Honestly though, is there really any excuse for a blunder THIS BIG??
I covered it up really well when he came in to tell me the Tooth Fairy forgot about him, running down to the cupboard and snatching up the $2 bill I had saved for his first lost tooth. I found the little bag we'd put his tooth in still under his pillow and quickly shoved the bill in there, while taking the tooth out. I handed him the bag as I jumped back into my bed and told him to look again, maybe his money had been "hiding".
He wasn't impressed.
He was excited about his two dollars, though & thankfully, doesn't have any other loose teeth. The Tooth Fairy needs a break and a chance to regroup; another mess up like this and she is done for.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Behind this door
After being a full-time SAHM for nearly four years (holyfuckingshit. are you serious??), I can assure those of you who aren't "lucky" enough to get to spend your entire day, week after week, covered in food, spit, poop and vomit, cleaning incessantly but never really cleaning anything, weighed down on one side by a toddler that weighs forty pounds (just ten less than his senior-by-four-years brother), that there is a secret world behind this door.
It's not evil. It's not bad at all. It's not about forcing kids to do chores. Or beating them. It's not better or worse than the way the house functions when Dad is home or when you replace me with a mom who goes to work.
It's just different.
I can easily spend what amounts to every single waking hour (and quite a few non-waking hours, as well) with the kids, taking care of housework, homework and busy-work; running errands, grocery shopping, coupon clipping; wiping faces, noses, and hands, kissing boo-boos and fixing broken Legos. -- They supposed to come apart, son. Then you put them back together. THEY ARE LEGOS. Yes, they are pretty awesome.-- and I get into this flow.
We have routines that only I know.
I go shopping at this time because Kid 1 is in school & Kid 2 will still be moderately well-behaved for another hour or two. As long as you don't give him sugar. At all. PERIOD. NO SUGAR. Then Kid 2 takes a nap at exactly this time to ensure maximum nap-age while maintaining enough of an energy drain to guarantee a decent bed time. VERY tricking math to pull off when your dealing with a two year old. I start cooking dinner right now because if dinner's not done in x minutes, I'm going to be bombarded with hungry children, crying for yogurt and chips and cereal. I just find ways to make life easier because when life is more pleasant, and less stressful, Mom never even starts to think about all the places she could hides bodies.
I can't speak for all SAHMs but when I find something that works, something that makes my days easier, I use it. So these rituals are born and viola! life is more pleasant and a little less stressful. For a little while.
It's not that Dad is incapable of re-creating these weird little rituals (does that sound too cult-y? I swear, I don't make them chant incantations. That's just how they talk. Ear problems, you know.), it's the simple fact that taking the time to explain the how and why would be just enough time to make me sound bat-shit crazy. And because, well, what works for me isn't guaranteed to work for Dad. Or anyone else.
These are my tricks, the things I've learned through experience, trial and error, and found to be effective. They work for me because the relationship I have with these kids is special. And it's special because I'm here with them every day. I see them at their worst & at their best and they see me in all my raging glory too. They might not understand me the way I'm able to understand them but they see and they help define the rituals we have together. They want to be a part of what is happening. They want to be included in everything.
These boys are becoming themselves more and more, every day, and they now have some responsibility for our relationship. Their actions and emotions impact how we interact and get along and they are now building relationships with everyone they come in contact with.
They are why we have these rituals and they're starting rituals of their own with all the people in their lives.
They are letting me, and everyone else, know what will work for them, what they are willing to accept from us. They are setting boundaries and learning the limitations we're setting for them.
Of course they act differently for Dad and Grandma and every other person. They have different, unique, relationships with each person they meet so it makes sense that they would act differently & enjoy different things with each of us, uniquely, and it makes me aware of the incredible relationship I'm able to build with with them because I can be at home.
Any parent who stays at home gets to have this kind of interaction, this closeness and sense of intimacy with their kids. If you're aware enough to grasp what's happening, right in front of your face. Really good parents can have this and still work.
And it can just as easily be over looked by any parent in times of stress and when life gets busy with the day-to-day stuff. You have to pay attention to appreciate what's really happening as our kids get older.
And you might find yourself feeling like the world you share with your kids is a secret world too. A world just for you & them.
It's not evil. It's not bad at all. It's not about forcing kids to do chores. Or beating them. It's not better or worse than the way the house functions when Dad is home or when you replace me with a mom who goes to work.
It's just different.
I can easily spend what amounts to every single waking hour (and quite a few non-waking hours, as well) with the kids, taking care of housework, homework and busy-work; running errands, grocery shopping, coupon clipping; wiping faces, noses, and hands, kissing boo-boos and fixing broken Legos. -- They supposed to come apart, son. Then you put them back together. THEY ARE LEGOS. Yes, they are pretty awesome.-- and I get into this flow.
We have routines that only I know.
I go shopping at this time because Kid 1 is in school & Kid 2 will still be moderately well-behaved for another hour or two. As long as you don't give him sugar. At all. PERIOD. NO SUGAR. Then Kid 2 takes a nap at exactly this time to ensure maximum nap-age while maintaining enough of an energy drain to guarantee a decent bed time. VERY tricking math to pull off when your dealing with a two year old. I start cooking dinner right now because if dinner's not done in x minutes, I'm going to be bombarded with hungry children, crying for yogurt and chips and cereal. I just find ways to make life easier because when life is more pleasant, and less stressful, Mom never even starts to think about all the places she could hides bodies.
I can't speak for all SAHMs but when I find something that works, something that makes my days easier, I use it. So these rituals are born and viola! life is more pleasant and a little less stressful. For a little while.
It's not that Dad is incapable of re-creating these weird little rituals (does that sound too cult-y? I swear, I don't make them chant incantations. That's just how they talk. Ear problems, you know.), it's the simple fact that taking the time to explain the how and why would be just enough time to make me sound bat-shit crazy. And because, well, what works for me isn't guaranteed to work for Dad. Or anyone else.
These are my tricks, the things I've learned through experience, trial and error, and found to be effective. They work for me because the relationship I have with these kids is special. And it's special because I'm here with them every day. I see them at their worst & at their best and they see me in all my raging glory too. They might not understand me the way I'm able to understand them but they see and they help define the rituals we have together. They want to be a part of what is happening. They want to be included in everything.
These boys are becoming themselves more and more, every day, and they now have some responsibility for our relationship. Their actions and emotions impact how we interact and get along and they are now building relationships with everyone they come in contact with.
They are why we have these rituals and they're starting rituals of their own with all the people in their lives.
They are letting me, and everyone else, know what will work for them, what they are willing to accept from us. They are setting boundaries and learning the limitations we're setting for them.
Of course they act differently for Dad and Grandma and every other person. They have different, unique, relationships with each person they meet so it makes sense that they would act differently & enjoy different things with each of us, uniquely, and it makes me aware of the incredible relationship I'm able to build with with them because I can be at home.
Any parent who stays at home gets to have this kind of interaction, this closeness and sense of intimacy with their kids. If you're aware enough to grasp what's happening, right in front of your face. Really good parents can have this and still work.
And it can just as easily be over looked by any parent in times of stress and when life gets busy with the day-to-day stuff. You have to pay attention to appreciate what's really happening as our kids get older.
And you might find yourself feeling like the world you share with your kids is a secret world too. A world just for you & them.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
A Study in Sleep Deprivation
Most parents will tell you -- Once you have kids, you never sleep again. Ever.
It may seem a little dramatic and it isn't true with every baby but for the parents with a colicy baby or one who just never sleeps more than two or three hours at a time, getting a good nights' sleep is something akin to winning the lottery. Maybe not a big lottery but still improbable. Something you have on a wish list -- #1. Win the lottery #2. Sleep 8-10 hours straight #3. Travel the world. -- you get my point. I've been extremely lucky with the boys and they've both been great sleepers, even when Paxton was breastfeeding.
It may seem a little dramatic and it isn't true with every baby but for the parents with a colicy baby or one who just never sleeps more than two or three hours at a time, getting a good nights' sleep is something akin to winning the lottery. Maybe not a big lottery but still improbable. Something you have on a wish list -- #1. Win the lottery #2. Sleep 8-10 hours straight #3. Travel the world. -- you get my point. I've been extremely lucky with the boys and they've both been great sleepers, even when Paxton was breastfeeding.
So why should it change? Well, because babies are human.
With close observation, you quickly realize how fast babies grow, how fast they morph out of that drooling ball of goo into a walking, talking whirlwind of terror. Different stages offer different challenges and some of those can definitely affect the amount of sleep a growing baby gets. You'll definitely lose sleep when the teeth start to come in and the older they get, the less sleep they need which makes napping when they do harder & harder.
Then there's every time they get sick; you can rest assured someone won't be sleeping. Generally, it lasts just long enough to have you fantasizing about running away before things cool down and the old routine is back or a new one has been established. It really doesn't last that long; maybe a couple weeks, maybe three or four but usually not long enough to make you really crazy.
Usually.
Too bad there's absolutely nothing "usual" about my family. In this family, it pays to live like a Boy Scout -- Be Prepared & ALWAYS Expect the Unexpected -- but if Life has taught me anything, its that Life will always give you something you weren't expecting or prepared for. That's just Life.
I didn't expect to get Strep throat right after Christmas & I definitely wasn't prepared for the week of Hell that followed. I don't have insurance and when I get sick, I DO NOT go to the doctor (which means the Emergency Room) unless I absolutely have to. When Day 3 of a sore throat left me drooling all over myself because I couldn't even swallow my own spit, I went in. That's how I found out I had strep. I only survived long enough for the antibiotics to kick in because I was so pitiful, the doctor gave me Vicodin too. Yay me.
Barely out of my sick bed, Jay's brother, Joel, flies in from New York AND Paxton decides to get the worst diaper rash EVER! I have never in my life seen a baby's butt so raw. Every diaper change was torture, for both of us. Even with a prescription, it took days to clear up. And you can bet every one of those nights was totally sleepless. He woke up every time he peed; every time he rolled over, I'm pretty sure. By this time, I'm going on two or three weeks with maybe four hours of broken sleep a night.
I thought I was going to go crazy!! As soon as I'd start to fall asleep, a blood curdling scream would jar me awake and I'd stumble to the boys' room to do what I could to soothe Pax, which was close to nothing. It got so bad one night, I took a baking soda bath with him at 3 in the morning; a mother's love has no limits.
It doesn't end there, though. Oh, no.
I'll admit I had about a week-long break between the rash and the next sleep-killer: bronchitis. I'm glad the rest of the family didn't catch my strep but I was not at all glad to hear that barking cough & wheezing. Another visit to the doctor; more prescriptions -- inhalers all around, Prednisolone for Paxton -- and another two weeks of no sleep. At this point, I could fall asleep blinking my eyes. Driving has become hypnotic, which scares the crap out of me, and as soon as it starts to get dark, I'm struggling to keep my eyes open.
The bronchitis is under control now and we were on the road up when I made the mistake of feeding the boys' enchiladas for dinner on Sunday. They loved them but apparently, enchilada sauce is too much for little tummies when combined with a bedtime sippy of milk. Paxton woke up around ten, crying and fussing but we couldn't figure out
what was wrong. I sat with him, rubbing his hair to get him back to sleep, when he starting gagging. I scooped him up and ran for the bathroom but didn't make it (does anyone??). Spicy, curdled milk went EVERYWHERE. All down my arm, shoulder, back; it even arced a nice rainbow of puke as I spun into the bathroom.
With newly-made stomach-cheese covering the entire left side of my body and trailing behind us, I knew we weren't gonna make it to the toilet. I got him as far as the sink for the rest of it and considered myself lucky to make that far. After that, I figured he'd be fine but in the melee, his blanket got doused and was definitely not fit to be slept with.
He lost it.
He didn't care it had puke on it and needed to be washed. He didn't care he has two other blankies EXACTLY like the one now soaking in milk curds & enchilada sauce. Every time I'd get him calmed down and on the verge of sleep, he'd remember the blanket he was cuddling was NOT his blanket and the freak-out would begin again. He even trotted himself downstairs to retrieve his blanket from the wash when it became obvious to him I wasn't going to get it.
Sometime around 1:30 or 2 in the morning, he finally went to sleep. For two hours. Yeah, it just keeps going. After settling him back to sleep AGAIN, I got a few hours of sleep before my alarm went off. I didn't bother getting dressed to take Phoenix to school; didn't even consider putting on make-up and couldn't have given two shits what anyone thought about it when they saw me. I can honestly say that's probably the first time I haven't gotten dressed and done my make-up but it was completely beyond me to put in the effort.
I'm hoping this "stage" is over & done with. I need sleep. So, so badly. I love my kids; I really, really do and I've only thought about strangling them a few times, just briefly. I'm sure they can sense when I'm at my breaking point, though, because out comes the cuteness and things quiet down for awhile. The urge to commit murder fades, replaced by a tiredness that seems to seep out of my bones. All I need is two weeks (maybe three or four) of GOOD, sound sleep (or a medically-induced coma) and I'll be fine. Just fine...
With close observation, you quickly realize how fast babies grow, how fast they morph out of that drooling ball of goo into a walking, talking whirlwind of terror. Different stages offer different challenges and some of those can definitely affect the amount of sleep a growing baby gets. You'll definitely lose sleep when the teeth start to come in and the older they get, the less sleep they need which makes napping when they do harder & harder.
Then there's every time they get sick; you can rest assured someone won't be sleeping. Generally, it lasts just long enough to have you fantasizing about running away before things cool down and the old routine is back or a new one has been established. It really doesn't last that long; maybe a couple weeks, maybe three or four but usually not long enough to make you really crazy.
Usually.
Too bad there's absolutely nothing "usual" about my family. In this family, it pays to live like a Boy Scout -- Be Prepared & ALWAYS Expect the Unexpected -- but if Life has taught me anything, its that Life will always give you something you weren't expecting or prepared for. That's just Life.
I didn't expect to get Strep throat right after Christmas & I definitely wasn't prepared for the week of Hell that followed. I don't have insurance and when I get sick, I DO NOT go to the doctor (which means the Emergency Room) unless I absolutely have to. When Day 3 of a sore throat left me drooling all over myself because I couldn't even swallow my own spit, I went in. That's how I found out I had strep. I only survived long enough for the antibiotics to kick in because I was so pitiful, the doctor gave me Vicodin too. Yay me.
Barely out of my sick bed, Jay's brother, Joel, flies in from New York AND Paxton decides to get the worst diaper rash EVER! I have never in my life seen a baby's butt so raw. Every diaper change was torture, for both of us. Even with a prescription, it took days to clear up. And you can bet every one of those nights was totally sleepless. He woke up every time he peed; every time he rolled over, I'm pretty sure. By this time, I'm going on two or three weeks with maybe four hours of broken sleep a night.
I thought I was going to go crazy!! As soon as I'd start to fall asleep, a blood curdling scream would jar me awake and I'd stumble to the boys' room to do what I could to soothe Pax, which was close to nothing. It got so bad one night, I took a baking soda bath with him at 3 in the morning; a mother's love has no limits.
It doesn't end there, though. Oh, no.
I'll admit I had about a week-long break between the rash and the next sleep-killer: bronchitis. I'm glad the rest of the family didn't catch my strep but I was not at all glad to hear that barking cough & wheezing. Another visit to the doctor; more prescriptions -- inhalers all around, Prednisolone for Paxton -- and another two weeks of no sleep. At this point, I could fall asleep blinking my eyes. Driving has become hypnotic, which scares the crap out of me, and as soon as it starts to get dark, I'm struggling to keep my eyes open.
The bronchitis is under control now and we were on the road up when I made the mistake of feeding the boys' enchiladas for dinner on Sunday. They loved them but apparently, enchilada sauce is too much for little tummies when combined with a bedtime sippy of milk. Paxton woke up around ten, crying and fussing but we couldn't figure out
what was wrong. I sat with him, rubbing his hair to get him back to sleep, when he starting gagging. I scooped him up and ran for the bathroom but didn't make it (does anyone??). Spicy, curdled milk went EVERYWHERE. All down my arm, shoulder, back; it even arced a nice rainbow of puke as I spun into the bathroom.
With newly-made stomach-cheese covering the entire left side of my body and trailing behind us, I knew we weren't gonna make it to the toilet. I got him as far as the sink for the rest of it and considered myself lucky to make that far. After that, I figured he'd be fine but in the melee, his blanket got doused and was definitely not fit to be slept with.
He lost it.
He didn't care it had puke on it and needed to be washed. He didn't care he has two other blankies EXACTLY like the one now soaking in milk curds & enchilada sauce. Every time I'd get him calmed down and on the verge of sleep, he'd remember the blanket he was cuddling was NOT his blanket and the freak-out would begin again. He even trotted himself downstairs to retrieve his blanket from the wash when it became obvious to him I wasn't going to get it.
Sometime around 1:30 or 2 in the morning, he finally went to sleep. For two hours. Yeah, it just keeps going. After settling him back to sleep AGAIN, I got a few hours of sleep before my alarm went off. I didn't bother getting dressed to take Phoenix to school; didn't even consider putting on make-up and couldn't have given two shits what anyone thought about it when they saw me. I can honestly say that's probably the first time I haven't gotten dressed and done my make-up but it was completely beyond me to put in the effort.
I'm hoping this "stage" is over & done with. I need sleep. So, so badly. I love my kids; I really, really do and I've only thought about strangling them a few times, just briefly. I'm sure they can sense when I'm at my breaking point, though, because out comes the cuteness and things quiet down for awhile. The urge to commit murder fades, replaced by a tiredness that seems to seep out of my bones. All I need is two weeks (maybe three or four) of GOOD, sound sleep (or a medically-induced coma) and I'll be fine. Just fine...
Thursday, September 15, 2011
The Greatest Reward
Another anxiety-filled morning for me, wondering whether or not today would be a "good" day. I worry for a number for reasons; what makes for a "good" day and a "bad" day? How can I help him get through this best? What am I doing wrong? I don't have answers for these questions but I don't really need to answer them, either. Today was a good day and I can't help but think maybe, just maybe, he's starting to get the idea that good behavior makes us feel better.
For me, seeing results that I want, makes the effort I put into parenting worth all the worry, anxiety and research. All the self-improvement and reprogramming I've done for myself isn't really for me; it's so I can be the best Mom I can be. I was so worried I didn't handle yesterday well enough; I thought of a million ways today could turn into a "bad" day and how it would be my fault for not encouraging him enough or being too hard on the one Smiley he didn't get. Now, I feel like maybe I handled things yesterday way better than I thought I did.
Parenting is not at all easy & I definitely make mistakes from time to time. When I get stressed out, I'm know to yell a bit. I can be a tyrant when it comes to messes in the living room. I swear in front of them. All of this just proves I'm not perfect. I'm not perfect. I'm a parent. We aren't perfect, but our imperfections help us be better parents. They can show us where we need improvement and our kids benefit from that. When we acknowledge we have faults & make mistakes and we actively work to correct those faults & fix our mistakes, we are showing our kids, in the best possible way, how to grow, how to learn, how to change the things we don't really like about ourselves, while still loving who we are.
Knowing that this is going to be hard makes it a little easier, as crazy as that sounds. It means that we're doing things right. One of the parenting "programs" I've found most helpful is the Love & Logic system from Jim Fay & his son, Dr. Charles Fay, Ph.D. and this simple line from their parenting handbook sums up what I mean very well: "When we do the right thing with challenging children, it will almost always look and feel like the wrong thing in the short term." <3
For me, seeing results that I want, makes the effort I put into parenting worth all the worry, anxiety and research. All the self-improvement and reprogramming I've done for myself isn't really for me; it's so I can be the best Mom I can be. I was so worried I didn't handle yesterday well enough; I thought of a million ways today could turn into a "bad" day and how it would be my fault for not encouraging him enough or being too hard on the one Smiley he didn't get. Now, I feel like maybe I handled things yesterday way better than I thought I did.
Parenting is not at all easy & I definitely make mistakes from time to time. When I get stressed out, I'm know to yell a bit. I can be a tyrant when it comes to messes in the living room. I swear in front of them. All of this just proves I'm not perfect. I'm not perfect. I'm a parent. We aren't perfect, but our imperfections help us be better parents. They can show us where we need improvement and our kids benefit from that. When we acknowledge we have faults & make mistakes and we actively work to correct those faults & fix our mistakes, we are showing our kids, in the best possible way, how to grow, how to learn, how to change the things we don't really like about ourselves, while still loving who we are.
Knowing that this is going to be hard makes it a little easier, as crazy as that sounds. It means that we're doing things right. One of the parenting "programs" I've found most helpful is the Love & Logic system from Jim Fay & his son, Dr. Charles Fay, Ph.D. and this simple line from their parenting handbook sums up what I mean very well: "When we do the right thing with challenging children, it will almost always look and feel like the wrong thing in the short term." <3
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
A Little Hiccup
Well, I had no reason to worry yesterday. Phoenix came home with another set of five Smileys! He was very proud of himself and since it happened to be Skate Night for his school at the skate rink, we took the whole family skating. Grandma Mindy brought cousin Sydney & after baseball, Boy Scouts & Back-to-School Night, Mike, Darla & Dylan stopped by too. The kids had a blast! Jay & I even got out on the rink; I only fell once, at the end of the night, right on my butt, and remembered why I don't do more things that involve the risk of falling. It hurts and I'm totally incapable of doing it with anything remotely resembling "grace". Honestly, I was surprised I was any good at all and was really impressed by Jay. He can move quick for an old man...
So after having two great days in a row, I kind of took today for granted. I just assumed he get his five Smileys again and I even brought snacks and water for a park trip to celebrate three days in a row. True to the nickname, "Hump Day", today did in fact seem to be a bit of a hump in Phoenix's road. Today, he hit a classmate with a shovel. Then he ran away and refused to come inside but eventually, he did. I tried to get a story of what happened out of him but it's hard to tell with this kid what's imagination and reality. He told me the other day he had a girlfriend, in the military, but that she died because Zombies ate her brains ('Zombies love to eat brains, Mom' he added, like I didn't know that).
I explained as patiently as possible that we don't hit people, especially not with shovels. "If someone hits you first, tell the teacher. Don't hit back." I say. All he can think is he didn't get five Smileys; Dad's going to be mad and now there's no camping. "It's just a mistake" I try to explain. "Did you learn anything? Like, maybe, don't hit your friends with shovels?" I ask, hoping that this isn't going to mess up the whole damned process. "Yeah. I know. I made a bad choice." he says, swallowing his tears.
I reassured him we can always try again tomorrow and started talking about all the good parts of his day. Four out of five isn't bad; in my book, that's a B and that's still a reason to celebrate. I want to encourage him to keep trying; I don't want him obsessed with Smileys and "perfection". Making mistakes is part of life, part of learning. If I can let him make little mistakes now and teach him about consequences, how to learn from what we do wrong, he won't be making big mistakes later in life. That's the theory anyways.
So after having two great days in a row, I kind of took today for granted. I just assumed he get his five Smileys again and I even brought snacks and water for a park trip to celebrate three days in a row. True to the nickname, "Hump Day", today did in fact seem to be a bit of a hump in Phoenix's road. Today, he hit a classmate with a shovel. Then he ran away and refused to come inside but eventually, he did. I tried to get a story of what happened out of him but it's hard to tell with this kid what's imagination and reality. He told me the other day he had a girlfriend, in the military, but that she died because Zombies ate her brains ('Zombies love to eat brains, Mom' he added, like I didn't know that).
I explained as patiently as possible that we don't hit people, especially not with shovels. "If someone hits you first, tell the teacher. Don't hit back." I say. All he can think is he didn't get five Smileys; Dad's going to be mad and now there's no camping. "It's just a mistake" I try to explain. "Did you learn anything? Like, maybe, don't hit your friends with shovels?" I ask, hoping that this isn't going to mess up the whole damned process. "Yeah. I know. I made a bad choice." he says, swallowing his tears.
I reassured him we can always try again tomorrow and started talking about all the good parts of his day. Four out of five isn't bad; in my book, that's a B and that's still a reason to celebrate. I want to encourage him to keep trying; I don't want him obsessed with Smileys and "perfection". Making mistakes is part of life, part of learning. If I can let him make little mistakes now and teach him about consequences, how to learn from what we do wrong, he won't be making big mistakes later in life. That's the theory anyways.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
The Magic of the Smileys
Yesterday, for the first time since starting Kindergarten, Phoenix had a good day. Not just a "good" day; his best day yet. I was beyond happy. This is the kid I know; happy, playful, ready to help & eager to learn. After running away from teachers, hiding under tables, bugging other kids at Quiet Time and even punching his teacher in the face (yes, you read that correctly...), Phoenix is back to Phoenix.
What made for such a turnaround? I have to think it's partially the half days; he doesn't seemed as overwhelmed by all the stimuli AND he's decided he wants to stay so he can eat lunch with his friends. The other part? Smiley face stickers. No, I'm not joking. Smiley face stickers have a wondrous power; the power to motivate. Shortly after we started the half days, we started sticker charts. Every day, he has the chance to earn five smileys by completely his daily tasks and simply listening to directions.
A week of charts came back with comments in the margins, "Playing with the carpet", "Sat under table", "Said 'I hate you'", instead of smiley face-filled boxes and I snapped. Not in a horrific, threw-all-his-toys-away kind of thing but in a No-more-fun-time kind of way. When he came home on Friday with comments, I laid down the law: No t.v., no video games, no, computer, no Legos, no camping (that brought a LOT of tears), no staying for lunch until he brings home five smileys for five days.
That afternoon was nuts; 'I wanna watch t.v.' -- No, 'We going camping tonight?' -- No...over and over, all night long. Saturday was a bit better. We made a fort in the boys' room; colored and practiced our letters and throughout the weekend, I kept explaining why we were on punishment and what we needed to do to earn the rewards of Camping and Lunch with Friends. When he realized all he had to do to get what he wanted was earn his smileys and essentially, be himself, it was like a light switch just flipped.
When I picked him up yesterday, his teacher, Mrs. Sam, was eager to say it hadn't just been a good day; it had been a great day, "his best yet". She showed me his chart: all FIVE smiley faces were there, not one comment in the margin. By now, he'd spotted me and come running. I kneel down and ask him, "How was your day?" and with a smile two miles wide he says "I had a good day, Mom" all old-soul like. We high-five and hug, because I have to show him how freaking awesome that is. Not only did he earn all of his smiley faces, he listened & followed directions the first time he was told and he actually helped around the classroom with cleaning up toys and "stations". Yup, that's my kid.
I made sure to take him for ice cream and praised him incessantly, which made him smile so big. While I don't want him to think he's going to get a "reward" for doing things he's supposed to, I want to make sure I reward him when he makes a conscience decision to make a positive change in himself. I want him to feel a sense of pride in himself, to know that he made a good choice and that it feels good to make good decisions. Right now, he's learning about mistakes; he's learning about the consequences of our actions and I'd rather teach him now when the mistakes are running away at recess or hiding under a table instead of waiting till the mistakes are running away from home or skipping school.
Things seem to be looking up and getting back to normal but I'd be lying if I said I'm not a little nervous about how many smiley faces will be on his chart today...I know he wants to eat lunch with his friends so bad and it would be so nice if we could start working up to a full school day. Ultimately, I just want to help him be the healthiest, happiest kid he can be.
What made for such a turnaround? I have to think it's partially the half days; he doesn't seemed as overwhelmed by all the stimuli AND he's decided he wants to stay so he can eat lunch with his friends. The other part? Smiley face stickers. No, I'm not joking. Smiley face stickers have a wondrous power; the power to motivate. Shortly after we started the half days, we started sticker charts. Every day, he has the chance to earn five smileys by completely his daily tasks and simply listening to directions.
A week of charts came back with comments in the margins, "Playing with the carpet", "Sat under table", "Said 'I hate you'", instead of smiley face-filled boxes and I snapped. Not in a horrific, threw-all-his-toys-away kind of thing but in a No-more-fun-time kind of way. When he came home on Friday with comments, I laid down the law: No t.v., no video games, no, computer, no Legos, no camping (that brought a LOT of tears), no staying for lunch until he brings home five smileys for five days.
That afternoon was nuts; 'I wanna watch t.v.' -- No, 'We going camping tonight?' -- No...over and over, all night long. Saturday was a bit better. We made a fort in the boys' room; colored and practiced our letters and throughout the weekend, I kept explaining why we were on punishment and what we needed to do to earn the rewards of Camping and Lunch with Friends. When he realized all he had to do to get what he wanted was earn his smileys and essentially, be himself, it was like a light switch just flipped.
 |
| Five Smileys! |
I made sure to take him for ice cream and praised him incessantly, which made him smile so big. While I don't want him to think he's going to get a "reward" for doing things he's supposed to, I want to make sure I reward him when he makes a conscience decision to make a positive change in himself. I want him to feel a sense of pride in himself, to know that he made a good choice and that it feels good to make good decisions. Right now, he's learning about mistakes; he's learning about the consequences of our actions and I'd rather teach him now when the mistakes are running away at recess or hiding under a table instead of waiting till the mistakes are running away from home or skipping school.
Things seem to be looking up and getting back to normal but I'd be lying if I said I'm not a little nervous about how many smiley faces will be on his chart today...I know he wants to eat lunch with his friends so bad and it would be so nice if we could start working up to a full school day. Ultimately, I just want to help him be the healthiest, happiest kid he can be.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Day 10 -- Golden Years Challenge
Day 10 --
Good times in Portland. I miss this house so much at times. We made millions of memories there (and two babies <3) but eventually outgrew it's tiny two bedrooms.
The backyard was our "family" room;we used it every chance the weather gave us and probably took more pride in it than our actual house. I definitely have more pictures of us outside than I do of us in...
Here's another one, featuring The Beast in the background. I think Phoenix did most of his growing up outside. We could never keep him in and why would we?? Even in the rain and snow, it was a challenge. We joked "yeah, this kid's definitely an Oregonian..." when he wanted to go out in the rain in his underwear and boots.
They grow so fast...He still weighs about the same, he's just a lot longer these days =) It's crazy to see two little people running around with us now; they have similarities and vast differences and they are both versions of us...it's insane. I know he remembers when it was just "us", pre-Paxton; I just hope he isn't resentful of his littler bother (no, that's not a typo -- 'brothers', big or little, can more accurately be described as 'bothers').
I see little glimpses of the brotherly love a mother hopes to see between her sons but reality is, love is still a vague emotion to a five year old and completely incomprehensible for a 14 month old.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Day 3 -- Golden Years Challenge
Day 3 --
Today isn't just the third day of this challenge (or what should be Day 3), it's also Mr. Clean's birthday. With that in mind, here are some of my most treasured memories with him.
This was our first glimpse at Phoenix. It was a crazy, crazy time but seeing his little face, watching his tiny heart beat was the most incredible, awe-inspiring moment. We got a million pictures of him this day; his toes, his fingers, him spread-eagle for the world to see...I thought this one was most identifiable as a baby (and most appropriate)
One of my favorite pictures, ever -- I knew this day he was the only man I could spend my life with. All the drama leading up to this day disappeared and we bonded in unimaginable ways; he'd be there for me through everything.
7 lbs, 14 oz and 22 inches long; 3:51 PM on Dec 4th
Four years later, we have a 4-D image of Paxton (an insanely accurate rendering of what he'd look like). It's one thing to see a flat cross-section of your baby; it's a whole new thing when you're looking at your baby in 3-D, watching him/her move in real time!
He measured 13 days bigger than actual "age"; the tech asked if I was sure my due date wasn't Christmas...Thankfully, he waited till after (when it snowed for one freak day).
I should have put up a picture with snow in it but this one wins out for pure awesomeness. We'd only been in the hospital for a total of nine hours when he made his arrival. It was a truly joyful event; his mom & sister just barely made it up from California and we were laughing with our midwife & nurses that they'd better hurry because he was coming now! His sister waited in the waiting room with her new baby girl while his mom watched her fifth grandbaby come into the world.
8 lb, 5 oz and 20.5 inches long; 6:01 PM Dec 30
Lastly, our first (ahem, only) family portrait. These things are hard with two kids! We were grateful our 'photographer' knew exactly how to get & keep the wee one's attention: a giant duster. Yeah, that thing...
These are definitely treasured memories <3
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