Kids

Fourth of July Week: Fun, Food and Biblical Plagues

We had a fabulous holiday weekend, full of food, fun and of course, sick Heathens. There is only a little sarcasm in that statement, I swear.

We started the week by buying a new minivan to replace the wrecked van (I won’t bore you with that tale of woe), and I swear that buying a car is medieval torture. See those smiles? We were just happy that the 7-hour car shopping/purchasing odyssey was over and we could go home and pass out from mental exhaustion. Car purchasing just ratcheted up on my list of “things I absolutely hate,” and it’s sitting somewhere in between going to the DMV and a trip to the lady doctor. However, the new minivan is nice, and we no longer have to cram our family of five into my tiny Sentra.

After the happy, happy car shopping, we tried to make the best of the holiday week, even though the kids fell one by one to the plague that infiltrated our house.

Two trips to the doctor later, I finally threw my hands up when G-Man also got sick and declared that we need a physical and spiritual cleansing in our house, lest this truly go down as the worst summer ever. Despite the black death of fever, rashes and other unsavory ailments, I still got to hang out with the extended family and Best Friend M, which salvaged what little holiday we could muster around here. I did manage to smoke some ribs just for fun, and paired it with a smoked Gouda pasta salad and grilled corn. My husband also made his homemade lasagna with garlic-parmesan breadsticks, so I will be dieting for the rest of my life now.

Now, however, my house looks like a tornado ripped through it, and I’m pretty sure Bean would stick to the kitchen floor if she tried to crawl on it. I better get to cleaning, so we can start this week off right.

 

Snapshots of a Zoo

I need baby gates…lots and lots of baby gates. And I need a vacation, a gallon of margaritas, a maid, a moisturizer that won’t make me break out, a new pair of Birkenstocks, a ceiling fan for Bean’s room and a pile of tiramisu from Pasta Pompodoro.

But, the baby gates are key…Bean is tearing our house apart and will put anything in her mouth…even if it’s still moving. So, yeah, send baby gates stat.

A Vacation From My Vacation!

We’ve had a very eventful few weeks, and I’m finally pausing to catch my breath. We took a trip to Dallas for Bear’s 9th birthday, and it was two of the busiest days we’ve had in a long time. Since we rarely have the time or funds to travel, I always tend to overdo it when we do skip town. I feel like I have to cram as much into our vacation time as I possibly can, and I probably end up more tired and neurotic than when we left. But, that’s okay by me, if it means the Heathens get to explore something new. Culture is a good thing, ya know.

We managed to swing this trip by using our accumulated travel rewards to score a free hotel room, and I learned you can save a bundle on venue tickets if you buy them early.

We started at the Perot Science and Nature Museum, which was absolutely fabulous, even if it was a little too crowded for me. It was very hands-on and kid friendly, and I could have spent all day there.

 

 

 

 

We spent several hours exploring and I still feel like we didn’t get to fully see and enjoy a good portion of the museum. If I had the money, it would have been worth it to purchase a “membership,” because members can enter the museum a couple of hours before the actual opening time, and I bet we would have enjoyed the smaller crowds. Still, that was an outing that was just as much fun for my husband and I as it was for the kids. After the museum, and a dip in the indoor pool at the hotel, we headed to dinner. And ate. And then we ate some more. And maybe had a cocktail, but that’s beside the point.

 

The next day, we went to Legoland and Rainforest Café, and though the kids had fun, that won’t be something we’ll ever do again. Legoland was fine, but honestly, it’s more for 4-7 year-olds. We had about all the fun we could have there within an hour, and that didn’t justify the high price tag. As for the café, again, the extremely high price for mediocre food was painful. And I’m not a fan of the marketing ploy that required us to walk through a veritable toy store just to get to the restaurant’s entrance. Still, the kids had great time, so in the end, that’s what matters. However, my husband and I agreed that from here on out, if the vacation is kid-centric, we get to pick where we eat. That’s what you call compromise, right there.

 

 

Once we got home from the trip, I started kicking around the idea of doing a little freelance writing. The boys’ tuition is a painful, painful thing, and I’m hoping to alleviate some of the burden if I can. The good news is that I landed a couple of great clients right off the bat, but since then, I’ve spent every spare moment either writing, or juggling a demonic Bean. She has a big new front tooth, and the oh-so-pleasant disposition to match.

Be afraid…be very afraid…

Kids, Technology and Balance: Why My Kids Should Cook a Meal, Sew a Button & (Eventually) Change a Tire

With summer coming, I’ve started compiling a list of ideas that I can use to keep all my Heathens occupied. Over the past several months, I’ve struggled with the realization that I have two kids who are overly attached to all things electronic, and I only have myself to blame (Bean’s too young, so she gets a temporary pass from this discussion). In my defense, I really thought I was doing well with finding a balance; my kids don’t have cell phones (nor will they any time soon), they aren’t allowed to use the internet without permission or supervision, and their video games are (mostly) age-appropriate. But, I recently realized that I spend entirely too much time in my day refereeing which child gets the computer, watching their time on it and saying no to the endless requests for new games. Even more disconcerting was the realization that every single conversation they start has to do with a video game…every single one. My boys could play video games 24/7 if we let them. I’ve reached a point that I never thought I would: I have failed to maintain the balance that I thought would be so easy to regulate.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going all “anti-technology.” Video games aside, our kids will need a degree of electronic aptitude to be successful in whatever their future careers may be. To deny this fact would be to stick my head in the sand. However, not too long ago, my husband and I got into a discussion about all of the practical know-how that, not only are we lacking, but we are also failing to teach our kids. It certainly got me thinking.

Just last week, when we realized that the ceiling fan in Bean’s room finally died, my husband looked at me like I was insane for suggesting that we figure out how to install a new one ourselves, rather than paying someone money we don’t have to do it. I’m embarrassed to admit that, other than a few plants, I cannot tell one tree, flower or bush from another. That’s kind of pathetic considering that I come from an extended family of master gardeners. I grew up with a mom who had her own restaurant and catering business, but when I left for college, I couldn’t even cook rice without calling home for help. Other than changing a tire, my husband can’t tell you the first thing about cars, despite the fact that his dad is a mechanic.

The few practical skills I do have, I learned by seeing and doing. For example, after the fourth time my teenage self called my parents because I had a flat tire, they told me unceremoniously that I had a manual, a tire iron and a jack, and to figure it out for myself. I may have spent the next hour swearing up a storm in my high school parking lot, but to this day, I can change my own tire. My father made me open my first bank account when I was twelve and instilled in me lessons about finance that carried us through the most meager of times. I grew up watching my mom figure out how to do things for herself, from drywall to refinishing furniture, because if she didn’t do it, it just wasn’t going to get done.

I have spent a good portion of my adult life trying to teach myself practical skills that I wish I had learned earlier. During most of my college years and early marriage, I painstakingly learned to cook more than macaroni and cheese. Sadly, we wasted money on many pairs of new pants for my husband before I figured out that a five-minute hem repair would have saved most of the old ones. I continue to struggle with sewing, and will probably tackle my first project with a pattern next week. From canning to gardening, knitting to basic home improvement, I always circle back to the fact that I would have benefitted by paying more attention to real life as a child/teen, instead of the hours I spent on the phone, gossiping with my friends.

So, what does this have to do with the Heathens? Well, I’m hoping that, with a proactive plan, I can shift some of their focus away from the siren’s call of the computer screen. I want to teach them how to do things that are infinitely more valuable than beating the last level of Plants vs. Zombies. When my children are grown, I want them to have a can-do mentality, or at least a “bet-I-can-figure-it-out” mentality. Mostly, I feel a deep need that all of us need to spend a few more hours a week “checking in” to real life, instead of checking out in front of a screen. The computer itself is not the problem; after all, even Cookie Monster now knows that cookies are fine in moderation, and the internet can be a great resource for “how do I do that?” The problem is me. I’ve been too inconsistent with limits, too quick to let things slide, and too impatient to slow down and teach my kids. When life goes off the rails, it’s easy to let the computer keep the peace.

So, my goal for this summer is to work on developing kids that can do. By August, I want them to be able to list all the new things that they learned, things that have nothing to do with a video game. After all, do you think anyone is going to look back on their life and think, “hot damn, I really wish I had spent more time playing Minecraft?” Nope, I don’t think so either. Now, if I can just figure out how to swing this plan without being the meanest mom ever. Ideas?

Eating My Words

In case you’ve been following the saga of the social studies project, I have an update and it’s a doozie. If you want the back story, it’s here, here and here.

In the end, we all pitched in and worked together, and as I hoped, we all learned a little something along the way. I found G-Man needs less of my neurotic micromanagement; he’s ridiculously smart and independent, and he can shine just fine without me going all Great Santini on him. I really need to dial down the Type-A mom mode when it comes to him. Bear…now that’s another story…

On the other hand, G-Man and my husband learned that the project was still going to be a pile of work and effort, regardless who was directing. Eventually, I helped take the pictures, and provided guidance on putting together the backboard, and my husband conceded that he was glad for the help. Visual design just isn’t his forte and he runs in horror from glue guns.

So, what happened? Well, G-Man won first place in his category of Louisiana History at his school, and advanced to the regional competition, which encompassed all schools in the surrounding five parishes (that’s counties if you’re from anywhere but LA). I spent last week helping him rehearse his oral presentation (hence my barren blog), and after a too-long day at the regional competition, we received a very big surprise. G-Man won not only first place in his category, but also first place and best overall for all elementary school projects in the region. He will now advance to the state competition!

So, I guess the moral of the story, like all things in life, is that compromise and middle ground were the keys to success. I’ll try not to be so Attila the Hun, and the rest of these clowns will try not to act like I’m the meanest mom ever when a task takes more than five minutes of effort. And, I’m pretty sure my husband will refrain from armchair quarterbacking when it comes to anything school related, lest the responsibility be dumped in his lap yet again. We’ll call that a win-win.

Dead-Chicken Smells and Sweet Little Boys—Another Day in Our Zoo

The Heathens are in deep trouble today. But, to fully understand the how, you have to understand the why.

So, grocery shopping at my house is an exhausting gauntlet that I dread every week. I usually go on Saturday or Sunday, and it takes nearly half the day to accomplish. Planning the menus, making the lists and clipping the coupons takes a good chunk of time, but then I trek to two different stores, usually with Bean in tow. I know what you are thinking…why, dear God, why? Well, that’s what it takes to keep our family of five fed on a meager budget. Scoff if you want, but the first time my husband saw $70 come off the register total because of my time-consuming planning, he acknowledged that I clearly had a method to my grocery shopping madness.

Anyway, considering that I spend half a day planning and purchasing the groceries, my husband and kids are charged with unloading the car and putting everything away. By the time Bean and I make it home from our expedition, she needs feeding, changing and a nap, so I am otherwise engaged during the unloading process. Our system seemed fine, but I should have known never to grow complacent when Heathens are involved.

I went grocery shopping on Saturday, and as usual, left the Heathens to unload and my husband to put it all away while I dealt with a hungry Bean. We had a great holiday weekend thereafter, and nothing seemed amiss until I opened my car door yesterday (having not left the house since Saturday). The wretched smell that assaulted me nearly knocked me over. I ran to my trunk, popped it open, and found all of the chicken, cheese and vegetables I had bought rotting away in the sunny, 70 degree heat. The Heathens had been in such a hurry to escape grocery detail , they left 1/3 of the groceries in the trunk…for four days. After trashing the rotten food, and attempting to air out my car, it still smells like death warmed over, and my grocery budget for the week was blown to smithereens. I picked the Heathens up from school (with the car windows rolled down), and proceeded to lay into them about responsibility, accountability and the misery of my dead-chicken-smell car. I told them they were BOTH in trouble and rattled off the laundry list of punishments that their father and I had agreed upon, including grounding from all electronics and the loss of their allowance.

Well, Bear, being the sweetest kid that ever lived, tried to get his brother off the hook. He pipes up with “Mom, I think I may have shut the trunk, so I think it really was my fault.” Now, I know for a fact they both had a hand in it, but Bear was willing to take the whole blame so his brother wouldn’t lose his video game time.

His sweetness nearly did me in, but luckily the dead-chicken smell kept me strong. I managed to stick to my guns, but deep down, I just wanted to kiss the little booger senseless. So, the Heathens had a day of no TV or video games (oh, the horror!!!), and I still have a dead-chicken car. It’s just another day in paradise around here.

 

Abnormally Big Heads Require Big Hats

Bean has a big head.

No, seriously, the kid has a ginormous head. When I go for her check-ups, and the doctor runs down the growth chart with me, it goes a little something like this:

“Now, everything looks good…her weight is in the 75th percentile, her height is in the 55th percentile, but don’t be alarmed…her head circumference is in the 99th percentile, but she’s fine, really.” I assure him, every time, that I’m not worried one bit.

She gets it honest; everyone on my dad’s side of the family was cursed with abnormally large heads. They had to special order my graduation cap, if that tells you anything. Unfortunately for my children, I have passed this trait down onto them. G-Man was born via emergency c-section (for the aforementioned reason), and when they delivered him, his poor head was scraped up so bad, it looked like he had been dragged across concrete. When it came time for Bear’s birth, my newer, smarter doctor said in his best Soup Nazi voice, “NO VBAC for YOU!” Thus, Bear was born without the immediate need for antibiotic ointment.

But, I digress. We’re talking about Bean’s noggin. It’s been very cold around here, and after trying to squeeze her melon into her San Francisco hat, I admitted defeat. I knitted her up a new hat (that’s sized for a four year-old), and hopefully it will carry her through the remaining winter months.

She looks skeptical. But, at least she’ll be warm.

Why Didn’t I Think of This Sooner?

Despite my vow to avoid G-Man’s social studies project like the plague, I did agree to accompany the guys to a local historic cemetery yesterday (which is quite literally crumbling) and take the pictures he needed for his project. What seemed like a boring errand turned into a fascinating little field trip. I don’t know if they were engaged by the mysterious creepy factor, or all the elaborate monuments, but the Heathens really got into exploring and reading…that is reading what was still legible. We even saw a crypt that had degraded so much, the metal coffin from the 1800s peeked through. Talk about eeking some kids out!

Despite the semi-scary atmosphere, I got 45 full minutes of kids that were reading, exploring and learning a little something about local history, rather than playing/discussing/obsessing about video games. When boredom hits this summer, I now have another outside-the-box idea to get them up, out of the house and exercising both their bodies and their little brain cells.

We’ll just avoid that whole coffin thing; there’s only so much ick-factor I can handle, and three guys sharing a bathroom already fulfills my limit.

New Year, New Goals

Happy New Year! The weather may be craptastic outside, but we are enjoying a cozy day off from the post-holiday bustle. The above photo has absolutely nothing to do with this post. I just had to show of Bean’s awesomely obscene holiday bow. Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled programming…

As I do every year, I spent yesterday thinking about my goals for the upcoming year, because for me, “resolution” is not necessarily a four letter word. At the top of my list is getting back to the healthy lifestyle I had pre-baby. When I got on the scale this morning, I was pleasantly surprised that I’m only about 20-25 pounds off my goal weight, and coming from the girl who dropped 60 pounds last time, that seems pretty do-able to me. However, it’s not just about the numbers on the scale, or the fact that I miss my skinny jeans desperately. Right now, I have the activity level of a sloth, and my energy level is in the toilet. Blaming Bean and sleep deprivation is easy, but if we’re being honest, my abysmal food choices and total lack of physical activity are the true culprit. I miss having the bounce in my step that comes from a halfway decent diet and a modicum of exercise. So, just like last time, I’m starting small, because drastic changes only set people up for failure. My goals for the next two weeks are to add an extra helping of veggies to my dinner plate, cut down my ridiculous diet coke consumption and add 30 minutes of activity a day, even if it’s just playing Wii Fit with the Heathens. If I can keep that up for two weeks, we’ll add another goal from there.

As for the Heathens, my husband and I drafted a new set of rules, but more importantly, defined a set of consequences. As they get older (and mouthier), we occasionally have to revamp their expectations . I’ve noticed that, over the past few months, I’ve turned into a mom who spends a whole lot of time threatening my misbehaving kids, but rarely following through with consistent punishments. Predictably, they have ceased to take me seriously as MOM (aka master and commander), and respect for my authority is absent. We had a family meeting, laid down the law and they have been put on notice. If I hadn’t already be crowned “Meanest Mom Ever,” I’m sure I will be by the end of this week.

But ya know what? I find that I’m okay with that.