The mommy-mobile comes in many shapes and some particularly large sizes. Let’s face it, kids come with a whole bunch of crap that needs to be hauled around. My super uncool vehicle of choice is the soccer mommy minivan. Its interior is completely crusted over with cheerios residue that I swear will one day be scraped off, but it allows me to carry two mythological creatures, all their crap, groceries and a can of coke. We are happy. Sometimes I will look at another mother’s choice in transportation and cringe at the thought of parking, going in reverse or negotiating that twisty thing in the parking garage of the airport, but I will not chastise someone for possessing more bravery than I, to each her own.
I would say my mom van handles fairly well. I haven’t gotten myself into a situation that I couldn’t appropriately maneuver out of. Heck, I can park that thing in my oddly configured garage-driveway combination, which coincidently, my husband told me couldn’t be done. (And I have only hit the house once!) I am not however about to enter the van into some sort of obstacle course competition. There are limits to what I can do.
Some have yet to understand the limits of their ever so slightly oversized vehicles. Or perhaps, more people than just myself slept through two semesters of physics. At any rate, I have a new favorite form of entertainment. I call it “pick up your kid at preschool” time. The Kraken attends preschool at a fantastic little school that has any even smaller, less fantastic parking lot. Knowing that space was limited the parking spot painter person made the spaces as small as possible to accommodate the most Mini-Coopers as he could. Since he still had half a can of paint remaining when he was finished, he continued to paint around a curve and up a small hill. Woe to the SUV that ventures up that hill.
I made the mistake of being on time to release The Kraken from his first day of preschool and had to park way too far down the street for the muscles in my left arm responsible for carrying The Siren to handle. So now I get to school way too early, find a prime parking space and watch the mayhem. There are no rules! It really makes me much happier than it probably should. I literally laugh out loud and what frazzled mothers attempt under the influence of baby brain. (For the record, I am not laughing at these woman. These are my people.) So today, I was allowed to watch as a Honda Element attempted to back into a spot, (good idea, poor execution, tiny margin for error), no less than 8 times. She finally gave up and drove up the hill. I never saw her again . . .
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
She's gifted and mad mad mad about it
During a well child appointment with the pediatrician, parents will say they just want to know their kid is healthy and doing well, but we all know what we really want. We want to know our kid is great. We want a licensed medical professional who sees hundreds of children to tell us our kid is the cutest or the smartest or the tallest or has the best curly hair or is the most advanced child they have ever seen. When a complement is received (or perhaps perceived) some parents will brag to the nearest passerby with a child or without, while others will hold onto their prize and walk around the park smiling smugly at all the other less than exceptional children knowing theirs is truly great. Parents can’t help it. We know deep down our kid is the best and wish the rest of the world would just admit it and move on.
So when I took Miss Rosie to her 18 month checkup, I was more than stoked when our new pediatrician announced my daughter was advanced. She summed up the exam by saying my Rosie was doing things children her age just don’t do. Ha. Take that all you other mothers. I am doing something right after all. I assumed like a fool that her comment had something to do with my daughter’s efforts to repeat much of what the doctor was saying. Or perhaps the pediatrician noticed Rosie’s attempt to dress herself, something she has never ever tried at home and may never attempt again. Whatever caught her attention wasn’t my concern. My daughter is gifted and is on her way to something great.
Less than twenty four hours later, I have decided perhaps my joy was misguided. It seems my daughter has advanced from laid back easy going adorable toddler straight to hormonal not even I know why I am pissed off pre-teen disaster.
When I signed The Kraken up for preschool, I envisioned joyous one on one time with The Siren consisting of collecting flowers in the meadow, having tea parties on the veranda, baking cakes with layers of love, mani/pedis in the garden . . . you know, girl stuff. What I got instead were tantrums. A tantrum getting into her carseat after seeing her brother off to school, a tantrum getting out of the carseat at the mall, a tantrum when we approached the playpark, a tantrum when I gave up and left the playpark, a tantrum getting a treat (I’m going to have a nice time with my daughter whether I have to bribe with doughnuts or not) and a tantrum when the treat was gone. Day one went well.
I just can’t wait for the day when our cycles line up and we can terrorize my boys at the same time. I’m sure they are waiting in anticipation for that one too. The way Rosie is advancing, that day will be upon us in the next week or so. Should I warn the boys or just enjoy the view from this side of PMS?
So when I took Miss Rosie to her 18 month checkup, I was more than stoked when our new pediatrician announced my daughter was advanced. She summed up the exam by saying my Rosie was doing things children her age just don’t do. Ha. Take that all you other mothers. I am doing something right after all. I assumed like a fool that her comment had something to do with my daughter’s efforts to repeat much of what the doctor was saying. Or perhaps the pediatrician noticed Rosie’s attempt to dress herself, something she has never ever tried at home and may never attempt again. Whatever caught her attention wasn’t my concern. My daughter is gifted and is on her way to something great.
Less than twenty four hours later, I have decided perhaps my joy was misguided. It seems my daughter has advanced from laid back easy going adorable toddler straight to hormonal not even I know why I am pissed off pre-teen disaster.
When I signed The Kraken up for preschool, I envisioned joyous one on one time with The Siren consisting of collecting flowers in the meadow, having tea parties on the veranda, baking cakes with layers of love, mani/pedis in the garden . . . you know, girl stuff. What I got instead were tantrums. A tantrum getting into her carseat after seeing her brother off to school, a tantrum getting out of the carseat at the mall, a tantrum when we approached the playpark, a tantrum when I gave up and left the playpark, a tantrum getting a treat (I’m going to have a nice time with my daughter whether I have to bribe with doughnuts or not) and a tantrum when the treat was gone. Day one went well.
I just can’t wait for the day when our cycles line up and we can terrorize my boys at the same time. I’m sure they are waiting in anticipation for that one too. The way Rosie is advancing, that day will be upon us in the next week or so. Should I warn the boys or just enjoy the view from this side of PMS?
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Sunday School Teacher
Long story short, I am a people pleaser. I have a hard time saying no and a hard time drawing boundaries. I am working on it. However, when the director of Sunday school called, she caught me at a weak moment. Apparently one doesn’t need to possess the ability to control their own three year old in order to be qualified to teach an entire class of three year olds. She didn’t ask if my son was a hellion, and I didn’t tell. I am now the newest member of the teaching staff at my church. My heart is already racing.
(As a side note, it was my husband who answered the call on my cell phone and then passed the phone to me. When asked if he could also help, I naturally said yes. I couldn’t help myself; It’s a sickness. I don’t think he will be answering my phone ever again.)
On our first teaching day we had a lively group of 21 three year olds. 21. Three adults versus a mob of adorable little shavers, the adults didn’t stand a chance. And if you listed the children from best behaved to worst, guess where my son would land. If you guessed at the very bottom, you win the gold star! To add insult to injury, I learned timid, shy, kind and polite three year olds do in fact exist. I was slightly shocked and amazed to witness this miracle. It isn’t an anomaly either. There are a bunch of them. I left my first foray as a Sunday school teacher exhausted and a bit defeated.
Week two brought with it my mother-in-law and therefore my best helper was sidelined to entertain his mother and her boyfriend. On the plus side, I left The Kraken with them thus allowing someone else to step up as trouble maker for the class. Hooray. We had another full week with 18 kids but the night was relatively calm and easy. We even traveled to the indoor play park and no one fell while trying to fly off the climbing wall. Something, no doubt, The Kraken would have attempted. The biggest issue of the evening was trying to locate the source of a horrible stink in a class full of ‘potty trained’ children. I stepped up and found the culprit then coaxed her away from the toys so her mother could be called. Again I left exhausted and defeated. No one wanted to steal the title of worst behaved from my and frankly that sucks.
The other teacher, a very responsible 9th grader, was a no-show for week number three. 22 cherubs showed up before we were allowed start sending kids to the overflow room, which by the way had seven children for the evening. There has to be a better system, but I am still a bit new to be rocking the boat with new ideas. I thought it would be so cool to let the kids paint for craft time. I wish I could accurately describe the mayhem. A lidless blender comes to mind. . . We survived. We even travelled to the puppet show room without misplacing a single child. I think that says something right? My darling daughter decided that she just could not handle Sunday school any longer and was brought to my room partially through one of the most chaotic nights of my life. Thankfully my mother and brother were poised and ready to take The Siren if she were to begin her wailing. They were not disappointed. After running running running for over an hour I realized I literally had sweat dripping down my back. Isn’t that special?
I don’t know quite how long I am on the hook for teaching this class. I’m not sure how many parents think their kids’ new teacher is a sweaty creep. I’m fairly certain The Siren will never make it through a church service without crying until her teachers give up. I know for a fact however, that my fellow teacher, (you know that really responsible 9th grader?), will not be getting a Christmas present from me.
(As a side note, it was my husband who answered the call on my cell phone and then passed the phone to me. When asked if he could also help, I naturally said yes. I couldn’t help myself; It’s a sickness. I don’t think he will be answering my phone ever again.)
On our first teaching day we had a lively group of 21 three year olds. 21. Three adults versus a mob of adorable little shavers, the adults didn’t stand a chance. And if you listed the children from best behaved to worst, guess where my son would land. If you guessed at the very bottom, you win the gold star! To add insult to injury, I learned timid, shy, kind and polite three year olds do in fact exist. I was slightly shocked and amazed to witness this miracle. It isn’t an anomaly either. There are a bunch of them. I left my first foray as a Sunday school teacher exhausted and a bit defeated.
Week two brought with it my mother-in-law and therefore my best helper was sidelined to entertain his mother and her boyfriend. On the plus side, I left The Kraken with them thus allowing someone else to step up as trouble maker for the class. Hooray. We had another full week with 18 kids but the night was relatively calm and easy. We even traveled to the indoor play park and no one fell while trying to fly off the climbing wall. Something, no doubt, The Kraken would have attempted. The biggest issue of the evening was trying to locate the source of a horrible stink in a class full of ‘potty trained’ children. I stepped up and found the culprit then coaxed her away from the toys so her mother could be called. Again I left exhausted and defeated. No one wanted to steal the title of worst behaved from my and frankly that sucks.
The other teacher, a very responsible 9th grader, was a no-show for week number three. 22 cherubs showed up before we were allowed start sending kids to the overflow room, which by the way had seven children for the evening. There has to be a better system, but I am still a bit new to be rocking the boat with new ideas. I thought it would be so cool to let the kids paint for craft time. I wish I could accurately describe the mayhem. A lidless blender comes to mind. . . We survived. We even travelled to the puppet show room without misplacing a single child. I think that says something right? My darling daughter decided that she just could not handle Sunday school any longer and was brought to my room partially through one of the most chaotic nights of my life. Thankfully my mother and brother were poised and ready to take The Siren if she were to begin her wailing. They were not disappointed. After running running running for over an hour I realized I literally had sweat dripping down my back. Isn’t that special?
I don’t know quite how long I am on the hook for teaching this class. I’m not sure how many parents think their kids’ new teacher is a sweaty creep. I’m fairly certain The Siren will never make it through a church service without crying until her teachers give up. I know for a fact however, that my fellow teacher, (you know that really responsible 9th grader?), will not be getting a Christmas present from me.
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