Monday Vent - Parenting Skills

Spending time with extended family who have questionable parenting skills is painful.  Watching the impact these poor skills are having on my beloved nieces and nephews is painfully frustrating. 

1.       When your child has a difficult time transitioning and you tell them it is time to leave, you need to leave.  You don’t just sit there for 35 minutes saying, “get your shoes, it’s time to go” while your child alternates between screaming “no” and ignoring you. 

2.       When your child, who is not potty trained although they are well past the appropriate age, refuses to have their diaper changed, that is not the time for bargaining, bribing, and cajoling.  That is the time for decisive action to complete the task with minimal fuss.  You do not necessarily need their permission.

3.       When your child hits their cousin, you should not say in a sickly sweet voice, “oh sweetie, don’t hit, that’s not nice”.  It’s called a time out.

4.       When your child says “no” to you,  that is not the time to get a “deer in the headlights” look on your face and back down.  You need to understand that you are the adult and that you need to teach your child.  You are not doing them any favors by letting them become spoiled rotten children who believe everyone should comply with their wishes.

5.       When 6 adults in a family have finally agreed on a restaurant, the complaints of a 12 year old should not change the decision, regardless of her pouting prowess.

6.       When a child refuses to eat anything but potato chips, the chips should be removed.

I have a lot more, but I think the vent is over for now.   To be continued…

S -)

Your turn! Can you relate? Share your vent. You'll feel better... really!

Monday Vent-Bogey Man

It is Monday morning and I am exhausted and in need of uninterrupted sleep.  My husband had a momentary lapse of judgment and allowed our two young boys to watch a part of “The War of the Worlds” right before bedtime. Luckily for them, it was a part where there is a lot of screaming, running, and the aliens suck up people and dissolve their remains into liquid.  If you haven’t seen it, let me assure you it is quite horrifying.  Now, these two boys had nightmares when he had another lapse of judgment last summer and let them watch him playing a video game involving zombies chasing people through a forest.  Those nightmares lasted a few days and they still talk about it.   Although they are typically good little sleepers, they were sobbing and scared when I called them upstairs.  It became apparent that they would not go to their own beds so I allowed them to come into our bed, just to stop the crying.  My husband can sleep through anything, but, unfortunately, two little extra bodies kicking and rolling around kept waking me up, although I’m not actually sure I fell asleep.  I put them back in their own beds around midnight, but one returned by 2:00 a.m.  So, here we are at 5 in the morning and I have to get moving, yet all I want to do is go back to bed.  Thanks honey!!!

Now it's your turn! Come on, you know it will make you feel better!

S-)

Proud Mom

As a mom, I try to do my best at that role for my kids. I give them tools to make good decisions, knowing that I won't always be there to tell them what to do. I give them hugs and tell them that I love them, knowing that I won't always be there to make them feel loved when others try to make them feel unlovable. I give them encouragement and support, knowing that I won't always be there to give them confidence when they are in a challenging situation. I give them guidelines for life, because I know that I won't always be there to make them follow the rules when others tempt them not to.

My heart feels happy when I think of my kids. They are kind, smart, hardworking, courteous, loving, and more. As much as I know this, it is really nice when others notice it too. Good behavior is almost never recognized, and I love when someone other than “mom” reinforces how important it is to be a good person. The other day we were invited to a ceremony honoring STAR kids at school. STAR stands for Students Taking Active Responsibility (Displaying traits of Respect, Responsibility, Fairness, Caring, Honesty, and Good Decision Making). Kids are nominated by teachers and only a handful of kids are selected each year. I was honored to have BOTH of my kids selected for the award! At the ceremony, the principal said something that really resonated with me. He said “You don't have to be the star of the sports team, you don't have to be the star of the play, but just by being you, you are a star every day.” I am proud of the job I've done so far as a mom, and I am proud of my stars.

=J

Drama King

Why is it that perfectly rational, mostly independently functioning men can go completely ballistic over the most inconsequential, fleeting things and make the entire situation worse? My understanding was that women were supposed to be all emotional and irrational. I’ve always kept pretty tight control of my emotions and apparently, my reward for that is to have a spouse who flips out over nothing and is moodier than an adolescent girl (see, even I buy into the stereotypes!)

Situations that I need to handle because I can do so calmly and logically: taking vehicles in for any repairs and talking with the mechanic, returning items to stores past the return deadline, paying bills, setting a budget, teaching my boys sports, homework. All of these situations turn my husband into an emotional volcano just waiting for a “reason” to erupt. The diatribe has many nuances but the same under lying themes : “the car repair places are a rip-off”,” the gas company/tire store/grocery store etc. charges too much”, “homework is stupid it doesn’t matter anyway”, “the boys just don’t want to play sports”, “I work hard I don’t need a budget but you should be on one”, and “why don’t we have any money since we both make a good living?”

Anyhow, what is prompting this line of thinking is a common occurrence in most households. Our two boys are now ages 6 & 5. They have recently stopped taking baths together because there legs are too long. Now that there is not as much open space in the tub there are many more opportunities for invading each other’s space and wrestling around. They have been reluctant to take showers because they are scared of the water spraying at them. However, at a recent splash park, they finally realized that spraying water is actually fun. My husband took the initiative to help them with their first showers. The six-year-old went first with no problems. As the little one is getting into the shower, my husband asks me to get the tear-free shampoo. I didn’t see what the big deal was, so I said to use the regular shampoo since he already knows to close his eyes when we rinse. Unfortunately, the little guy decided to open his eyes when the soap was being rinsed and running down his face. As he rubbed his eyes, his daddy starts yelling, “OMG, OMG THE SOAP IS GETTING IN HIS EYES!” Just picture a sensitive little drama king in a shower with his daddy YELLING at the top of his lungs about soap in his eyes as though there were shards of glass shooting from the shower head. Little drama king begins screaming and Big drama king continues screaming. Screaming and chaos. I come in and of course am subjected to the accusation that this is all my fault and I have to deal with the carnage. After Big drama king storms off and I enter, putting a dry towel over the little king’s eyes, he stops crying. I ask him if he got soap in his eyes, he says, “yes”. I then ask if his eyes hurt, he says, “no”. I then ask, “why are you crying?” He says, “I’m scared because Daddy started yelling at me”. Imagine that, another completely unnecessary dramatic episode. My little king now says that he will never take a shower again. Gee, I wonder why? Post-traumatic stress syndrome caused by a big drama king.
S-)

A Fish Story

Years ago, my younger son was invited to a birthday party. While that is not unusual, the party was. The party was held in a local pool clubhouse. The parents of the birthday boy hired animal trainers to arrive with various unusual animals that the children could learn about and even touch or hold. As cool as that sounds, that is not the unusual part either. What WAS unusual, is that each child was sent home with a goldfish in a small goldfish bowl, filled nearly to the top with water. Unaware of this, I pulled up to pick up my son just in time to see some poor dad, who somehow became in charge of this day's carpool. His face contorted and eyes rolled as 5 little boys climbed into his freshly cleaned SUV with their fish. Each boy proudly paused to show him their new pet and then subsequently climbed their way in to their spot with water splashing everywhere. I could tell that some of the dad's facial contortions were the only way he could keep from having a barrage of profanity spew out of his mouth. I tried to hide that I was laughing, but I think he knew I thought it was a funny sight. It wasn't until I tried to walk back out to the car with my son that I started to gain some empathy for that poor dad. Give ANY child a bowl full of water, with or without a fish, and they will NOT be able to walk with it without spilling. Just getting to the car, about 1/3 of the bowl was empty.

I was thinking “Well, that is a good thing, now it won't spill in the car.” In reality, I quickly realized I was wrong. My son, resistant to let his new pet go, tried to climb into the car with the bowl. “Hmmm... mostly on the floor mat. Well, it will give the french fry smell a run for it's money.”

My son finally allowed me to hold it so he could get buckled up, then it went back into his hands and rested on his lap. We live ½ mile away from the party location, so I was still thinking that we might be ok. The first bump out of the parking lot proved me wrong.

“Ahhh!” I hear from the back seat as my son now has fish bowl water on his lap.

I drove that ½ mile home, with 5 turns, in a way that a surgeon could have successfully performed brain surgery. I'm REALLY glad no one was following me! If the police spotted me they would have pulled me over thinking I was an overly cautious 98 year old lady. We FINALLY make it home. The fish gets named Goldie, and finds a spot on our countertop. We soon realize, that we have nothing to feed it. Off to the local pet supply store! Do we purchase fish food and leave? NoooooOOooo. We have to buy Goldie a new bowl, and some rocks, oh, and something to play with in her tank... huh? I give in, after all, the fish was free, right? Look at my son, he is so proud and happy. This is one of those times you give in, right? So we find Goldie a cool bowl, which is really ½ of a bowl. One side is flat so it can go up against the wall. Then my son picks out the rocks and a plastic plant and we head home. Once home, we set up Goldie in her new place and everyone seems happy.

The next morning we wake up and come downstairs, to find Goldie floating at the top of her bowl.

I'm thinking, “Crap! We just bought all of this stuff and now the thing is dead! I wonder if I can return any of it?”

My son sees his floating fish, and starts to cry. He is heartbroken. I am a bit amazed by his strong reaction to... well... it's JUST a FISH. A fish that we've had for less than 12 hours! I do the right thing and comfort him.

As I do, he pulls at my heart strings asking a series of questions between sobbing. “Why did he die? Did I do it? Did I feed him too much? Are you sure he's dead? I didn't even get a chance to take a picture of him.”

Well, that last question at least, I could make him feel better about. I immediately tell him not to worry about the photo, because I took a photo of him in his new bowl. My son felt some relief, but he had me wrapped around his finger again. You guessed it, off to the pet store again with both of my sons in tow. This time to purchase a replacement goldfish.

On the way there, I'm thinking “How much could this trip possibly cost? A dollar? Goldfish come as cheap as a dime or a quarter. I'll splurge and get him a 50 cent one.”

We look around and find a 20 something girl working there. I tell her that we would like a goldfish. With that, she turns into the Fish Police on me.

Her: “What are you going to do with it?”

Me: “Um, put it in a tank?” I'm a bit confused by the question.

Her: “What size tank?”

Me: Thinking first, “ It's a freakin' 50 cent fish! What's up with the interrogation?” then I say, politely “One of those ½ tanks that you sell.”

Her: “You know, fish need 1 gallon of water for every inch long they are. EXCEPT for goldfish. THEY need 4 gallons of water for every inch of fish. Your tank is WAY TOO small!”

It must have been the “Are you kidding me?” look on my face that made her decide to EXPLAIN to me why I REALLY needed a bigger tank.

Her: “If you put goldfish in too small of the tank, it's like torturing them. It is extremely painful and they go blind.”

I look at my son, whose eyes are now the size of saucers, thinking about the horrors that poor Goldie must have endured on our countertop overnight.

I don't respond for a moment, but I'm thinking “REALLY? REALLY LADY? You just HAD to go there?”

She interrupts the silence with: “But, you know, if you WANT to. It IS just a feeder fish. If it was ANY other fish, I wouldn't allow it.”

Why did I have to find the Fish Police in this store? It really doesn't matter at this point because I know that there is NO WAY my son is going to allow another goldfish to be tortured in that bowl. I also know that there is NO WAY I'm willingly purchasing a 5 gallon tank that costs $30.00 for a 50 cent fish. It is at that moment that I look to my right and see several shelves of bright fish in tiny little plastic cups. I ask the Fish Police if it would be O.K. to put one of those Beta fish in our ½ tank. She seems to approve and confirms that we don't need anything else for it, except Beta fish food. I ask if it can eat the brand new goldfish food that we just bought yesterday. She looks annoyed, so I grab the Beta fish food. My older son has been quiet this whole time, but pipes up as my younger son is picking out his bright red $8.00 fish.

“Is he getting one of those?” he asks tentatively. I read between the lines and know what he is really saying is “You're spending all of that money on him, and now he's getting to pick out a REALLY COOL fish and I didn't complain when he got that other fish and the new bowl, or when we came here to buy him replacement fish, but now he's picking out a REALLY COOL fish and I'm not getting ANYTHING!”

Guilt overcomes me and I immediately offer for him to pick one out too.

We are all happy, until the Fish Police reminds me that they are Beta fish. “Beta fish can't share a tank. They will kill each other.”

Geesh! Isn't she full of uplifting fish facts? So we head to the tank aisle, pick up another ½ tank and rocks. We somehow agree that Beta fish don't need something to “play” with, sparing me the cost of another plastic plant. Awesome.

We get home an set up the tanks. All is well until that night, when my younger son asks if he can see the photo I took of Goldie.

My reply, “Ummm... can I show you later?”

I make up some excuse as to why I can't get to it right then. The reason? I DIDN'T take a photo of Goldie, I just SAID I did to make him feel better! Thankfully, I'm a wiz with Photoshop. Back to the pet store for the third day in a row. This time with my camera in hand, and without my sons!

In an effort to make the final photo as believable as possible, I start examining the many tanks of goldfish to find Goldie's body double. “No, too many fish to get just one.” “No, too skinny.” “No, too fat.” “No, too orange.” “No, too many spots.”

Finally, I see one that I can make work with very little manipulation! Of course, these tanks are mere inches off of the floor. To take the photo, at the right angle, I am crouched down on the floor. It crosses my mind that dogs are allowed in this store. I wonder what the odds are that a dog had relieved it's self in this location, but then I try not to think about it. As I wait for the particular fish to separate itself from the other fish and then get a good angle of it, a confused employee walks up to me. I look up slowly, hoping it isn't the Fish Police from yesterday. I'm greeted with a smile. Nope. Not the Fish Police. I explain to her what I'm doing and am left alone. I'm glad, but convinced she will be talking to her 20 something friends later on about the “crazy mom who lied to her kid”. I get several shots of the body double and head home to continue the project. Once home, I take a photo of the tank. Luckily, the new Beta fish is cooperative and is hiding over in the corner. He is easily cropped out of the photo. I get to work on the cutting and pasting, adjust the color a bit, and done! I delete any photographic evidence of other fish and tanks, then call my son over to see the photo I took of Goldie.

He was very appreciative, but then said “I don't remember Goldie being that yellow.”

Dang! I was thinking that she looked a little too yellow too. I explain it away as being a result of my camera flash making her look different. He seems to buy it.

We were told that Beta fish are supposed to live around 3 years. At about 2 ½ years after we purchased the Beta fish, my younger son's fish started to look a bit sick. I prepare my son for the inevitable. He is sad, but is prepared to face the death of his fish. He asks if we can bury it in the yard. I agree that would be a nice thing to do for such a good fish. One morning, I came downstairs before my kids. As I look over towards the fish tanks, something catches my eye. One of the tanks is completely empty! My stomach is flipping as I start to piece together what happened. I call my husband, who woke up before me and went to go work out.

Him: “Hello?”

Me: “What happened to the fish?”

Him: “It was dead.”

Me: “What did you do with it?”

Him: “I flushed it.” I run to the toilet in hopes that it didn't go down. No such luck.

Me: “WHY????”

Him: “I didn't want him to have to see his dead fish. It would make him sad.”

Me: “HE KNEW IT WAS GOING TO DIE AND WANTED TO BURY IT!!!”

Him: “Crap! I didn't know! NOW WHAT?”

ME: “You need to come home and tell him what happened.” Yeah, right, like I've been SO honest with the kid.

Him: “I know! I'll just get him another fish!”

Me: “You are NEVER going to find one that looks the same!” Unfortunately, I know this from the experience of trying to find a body double for Goldie.

Him: “Don't worry about it.”

Ah, if I had a dime for every time I've heard that! I hung up with my husband and put water back in the tank. I quietly hope that my son doesn't go over to tell his fish “good morning” today. A while later, my husband walks in from the gym with a plastic bag and a Beta fish in it. He gets points for remembering what kind and what color the fish was, but that is where the similarity ends. The fish is not nearly as bright red, has more black in it, has much smaller fins and is much smaller over all. However, I think it is sweet that my husband is concerned and wants to avoid crushing our son with the words “I flushed your fish.” Before I know what is happening, my husband starts speaking to our son.

“You know how your fish was really sick? Well, I have a friend who is a vet. I brought your fish to them today. They had to work on it a long time and had to strip away some of it's fins to save it, that's why it looks a little smaller. But, hopefully, the procedure will make it better.”

Our son seems appreciative, then says “Why does his body look so much smaller?”

We tell him it's an illusion because his fins are smaller. Darn kid, why was he born with such an eye for detail?

As we place the “recovered” fish in the tank, it crosses my mind that I will be putting food in that tank for at least another 3 years. I sigh and wonder if I should have just looked in the sewer clean out for the dead fish.

About 1 year later, our older son's fish started to show signs of being sick. I warn my husband, under penalty of something horrible (I'm not sure what that would be, but he knows I mean it), under NO CIRCUMSTANCES IS HE TO FLUSH THE FISH. He understands completely. The morning comes when the older fish is floating. We put it in a baggie with a little water and find a small box. Each one of us picks a side of the box to write something nice about the fish. It is a sweet and touching moment. My husband goes out to the yard with a shovel and he digs a hole for the burial as our older son holds the box. Our younger son goes to look for a headstone. I have my camera in hand and document the moment. Hugs all around. About 6 months later, my older son asks me why his brother's fish is living so long. I cave and tell him the truth. He can't believe his ears, but understands why we did what we did, and admits he would have been really upset if he didn't have the opportunity to bury his fish and say goodbye. I'm thankful he understands and he eases my guilt about the deception.

Over 1 year ago, the “recovered” fish started floating on it's side. I saw it as a sign of the end, again. Guest after guest has come to our house and whispered “I think your fish is dead.” Each time I walk over, tap the countertop or nudge the tank and the fish springs to back life. Along with my standard response, “Nah, he just does that.”


It has been a long time since we got the “recovered” fish. From my estimates, this fish should be in Guinness for the longest living Beta fish ever. I can't believe how many times the fish has fooled even me. I swear it's time to find another little box, and the fish wiggles a fin to let me know it's not time yet. My husband has walked by the tank and said “Dead or alive. Pick one.” Which makes me wonder, in a tongue-in-cheek way, if perhaps this fish is in some sort of “un-dead” state. It is so old, it shouldn't be alive. It eats, sometimes. It swims backwards, sometimes. It floats, sometimes. It acts normally, sometimes. The only (irrational) explanation I can come up with is that Goldie's spirit has entered the Beta fish's body and is trying to avenge her young torturous death. I'm going with that zombie fish idea for now, just because I find it amusing.

When it's time finally comes, I'm sure we will all be sad. I hope my husband refrains from flushing it, and please, someone, don't let me go back to the pet store.

=-J

Camp for School?

I have always been against mindless group thinking. Sometimes, I will refuse to do something, just because “everybody's doing it”. Because of this, I am sure there are times that I have missed out on something great. I am O.K. with that. I am not a sheep. I am not mindless. Which brings me to my kids' school. The school has decided that part of the school year should have days set aside for outdoor education. Sounds reasonable, right? The school has a nature preserve nearby that it uses regularly. But that isn't good enough. When the students are in 4th grade, they are expected to go on a 1 night stay to camp. When the students are in 6th grade, they are expected to go on a 2 night stay to camp. Are my kids going to school, or camp? I expect my kids to go to school, do their homework, and work hard. I don't expect them to go to camp. I choose NOT to send my kids away to camp over the summer. Which works well for my kids, because they DON'T want to go. When I talk to school officials about camp and ask “why” the answer is “oh, it's fun”. Well, lots of things are fun that don't belong in school. I've also heard “we've been doing it for over 20 years”. Huh???  Just because something has been done for over 20 years doesn't mean it is a good idea or that needs to keep happening. Still not answering my question “Why are children expected to go to camp during the school year?” Silly me, I decide to voice my opinion in front of some of the local moms. All I really said was “I don't get it. It's like sending them to camp.” You would not believe the reaction I got. I was actually somewhat attacked for not being in support of it. After defending myself, I finally had to end the conversation by making some sort of joke about me being cynical. Yikes!

Now, before you judge me too, let me give you some more information. Point 1: “Camp is great for kids that never get to go anywhere.” Counterpoint 1: I live in an affluent area. People take 2-3 family vacations each year that take them all over the world for weeks at a time. They take weekend trips and extended weekend trips in countless numbers. Point 2: “Camp is great to give kids the experience of being away from home and their parents.” Counterpoint 2: Most kids in our area are sent away to camp over the summer. Many parents in the area also take vacations and leave their kids somewhere else. I don't think I could find a kid in our neighborhood that has never been away from his parents. Point 3: “Camp is great for kids to explore the great outdoors.” Counterpoint 3: We live in a certified “Tree City USA” and are surrounded by forest preserves and restored natural prairies. Try cutting down a tree in our town, and the fine you are hit, with will wake you up to the fact that we LIVE in the great outdoors. Point 4: “It's a different learning experience when kids are surrounded by nature.” Counterpoint 4: As I mentioned in counterpoint 3, we are surrounded by nature. We have deer, raccoon, opossum, rabbits, fox, skunks and coyotes literally in our back yard. With a mere 4 miles separating the farthest points, we have 5 federally certified nature areas. We have a nature center, complete with a building to do indoor activities, at the school's disposal. It has a river, pond, prairie and woods. We have a large forest preserve that has miles of trails, ponds and a river. We have another forest preserve that links to many others down the river. We have a nature preserve that is all prairie and we have a wooded preserve area. There are countless more facilities within a 20 minute drive.

So, my question is still unanswered... What can be done at camp, that can't be done during the day at one of these fine facilities in our own neighborhood? Lets see, craft using leaves? Yep, we've got plenty of those. Watercolor painting of nature? Yep, we've got nature. Pond study? Yep, we've got ponds and places to study them. Animal tracking? Yep, we've got animals. Geo tracking? Yep, you can do that anywhere. Trust activities? Yep, pretty sure that can be done anywhere. Star gazing? Yep, seeing as the school has the kids come to one of the forest preserves on a weekday night to listen for frogs, pretty sure they can arrange the same thing to look at stars. Team building activities in the woods? Yep, there is a facility that is about 20 minutes away, that has ALL of that and other classes have been to for the day. There is only 1 activity that I agree can not be done locally (that I know of) and that is an obstacle tower. The kids are tethered in and can try obstacles like walking on ropes high in the air. Agreeably fun, but is this 1 activity justifying the camp?

My kids are put on a school bus and driven 1 hour away for the 4th grade camp. There are parent chaperones but tell me if you know every kid in your kid's grade. They mix up the classes so kids are with other kids that they are not normally with. I finally had to tell the kids to look at each other so they knew who was in our group and could tell me who was missing. Half the time I just counted heads going to and from the activities. I had the right count, but not sure if I had the right kids! Those kids are slippery too. Turn your head for 1 second and they are heading down an embankment leading to the lake. With 7 adults standing around, I turned and saw the top of a girl's head disappearing. I called to her, thinking she was the only one and she called up 3 others! I'm not an overprotective parent, but my heart was in my throat for that one. None of the other adults thought it was a big deal and took the last kid up word on it that there weren't any other kids down there!

For 6th grade camp, the school bus ride is 1 ½ hours. There are NO parent chaperones. It is in February. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, we also get the privilege of paying for BOTH camps. It's not something included in our fees, we are actually paying to send our kids to camp... during school. Explain to me again, why? More over, why does it seem like EVERY parent in our school district doesn't think twice about why camp is part of school? I get WHY they send them, because that's what parents in our neighborhood do, they send their kids camp. I'm not one of those parents.

=-J