We're Back in Action

We have gone on vacation and I'm happy to say, we all made it home in one piece.  It was our first time taking the kids on an airplane or away from home for more than 3 days.  Of course, we also had my parents, my sister, my in-laws and my sister-in-law to help out...but still.  As parents, we still did the majority of things for and with the girls even though we had other adults to help us out.  I guess once you're in the groove, it's hard to get out.

We went to Florida and had a wonderful time!  We went to the 4 Disney parks--Animal Kingdom, Epcot, Hollywood Studios and Magic Kingdom (twice).  We also went to the beach on our first and last days there, with the last day including watching Space Shuttle Discovery launch while laying on our blanket on the beach. 

The girls loved being with the whole family together.  They loved their first trip to the ocean and playing at the beach.  They loved the parks and all they had to offer.  They loved meeting all the characters.  They loved swimming in an outdoor pool in February (such a treat to us northerners!)  They loved buying souvenirs with their own money.  They loved writing in their journals each night about the day's activities. 

Full Man Grown and I loved seeing their smiles and hearing their squeals of delight with each new discovery or sighting or experience.  We loved that Scrat was shaking because she was so excited to meet her favorite princess, Belle.  We loved that Picasso continued in her true dare-devil, thrill-seeker form and liked all the roller coasters best.  We loved that Brainiac read each sign and plaque and tried to learn all she could while at the various parks.  We loved that the girls repeatedly thanked all of us for such a great time and vacation.  We loved that both of our families were together for the first time in years.  We loved that while basking in the 80s and sunshine, we missed a 12" snowstorm here at home.

Vacation was wonderful.  We all loved it.  We can't wait to do it again.

Improvisation

Sometimes, I think one of the best skills to possess in life--especially as a parent-- is the skill to improvise.  When we are parents, nothing goes the way it's supposed to all the time.  I'd even go so far as to say it never hardly ever goes the way it's supposed to, whether we're talking a meal or an art project or a vacation.  It's a simple fact of life.  Sometimes things go horribly wrong, sometimes the wrong is so tiny we're the only one that even realizes it.  But we must all be flexible and be willing to improvise when the time arises.

Like this morning, for example.  This is one of the small wrongs/improvisations that I think only a parent can really appreciate.  Scrat was upstairs getting dressed for the day.  She was singing along, picking out her clothes and having a grand time.  Then the singing stopped, I heard a few groans, and she came stomping down the stairs.

"Mommy, I need you to help me."  She was holding her pants in her hand, so I assumed she needed help with the button.

"What's up, kiddo?"  I was checking FaceBook and having some funny banter with a girlfriend on her status update.  This girlfriend is in Germany so I seldom get to actually "chat" with her.  It was important and stuff.

Scrat proceeded to pull down her underwear and throw them at me.  "That tag is all itchy.  Can you cut it off please?!"

Now, Scrat really dislikes when underwear have an actual tag instead of the screen-printed labelling.  Not only did this new pair (which I didn't buy her--I know better) have a real tag, but this tag is in the side seam.  For Scrat, this is a HUGE deal and one of her biggest issues when it comes to clothes.  She simply cannot stand the side-seam tags on her underwear and has even been known to throw them away if I don't cut off the tag in time. 

Here's another thing about parenting--nothing is ever in it's place when you need it.  I have a pair of scissors that are not to leave my desk drawer.  So I grabbed the underwear, opened the drawer and...Nada.  Nothing.  No scissors.  I moved everything around in the drawer and on my desktop.  Nope, no scissors.  Then I remembered that Picasso had asked to use them the night before and apparently she'd forgotten to put them back.  Well, she was now at school so I couldn't ask her where they were.  I could have gotten up and gone to the kitchen for another pair of scissors, or even a knife.  But honestly, I didn't want to.  I was pulling a lazy.  But I still got the tag off.  With what you ask?

The tape dispenser.  Oh yes I did.  I sawed at the tag with the cutting edge of the tape dispenser and in about 5 seconds it was gone.  I proudly handed over the Tinkerbell underwear, put the tape back in the drawer where it belongs for future use, and continued my FaceBook banter without a blink of the eye.  That, my friends, is Improvisation.

Sometimes, discipline hurts Mom more

Every Wednesday, we go to the local library for story time.  I don't have extra kids that day, so it's something that Scrat and I get to do without her having to share Mom's attention with her sisters or the daycare kids.  She loves listening to the books and dancing with her friends, then getting to play in the kids area before picking out a couple books to take home.  And I look forward to it because it gets me out of the house and also allows me to visit with some of my girlfriends who also bring their kids to story time.  It's win-win.

This past Wednesday, no one won anything.  Scrat was having a decent morning until we decided it was time to get dressed.  She was already wearing a green leopard print skirt, an orange Halloween Kitty shirt and a Christmas sweater--which we'd agreed she could wear until it was time to leave.  Then she had to put on pants because it was cold out.  That's when it started, when it was time to put on her pants.  First, she complained the pants were too long.  Then she didn't think the shirt matched or was pretty on her.  What followed was a half-naked child pounding on my arm, sobbing, yelling, "I want to go to STORY TIME!" 

Needless to say, we didn't go to story time.  I had told Scrat that if she continued to hit and yell at Mommy, we weren't going.  She did, so we didn't.  Let me tell you, it was so hard to stick to my word.  I wanted to go to story time just as badly as she did...and she didn't even know that we were invited to a friend's house afterwards for lunch and a sledding party.  See?  So badly wanted to just give in and take her to story time for my own adult mind as much as hers.  But I didn't.  I couldn't.  I knew that I had to stick to my guns and follow through with what I said--"If you continue this behavior, we will not go to story time." 

Thankfully, Scrat doesn't do this often.  She's very active and funny and a little crazy, but she seldom has temper tantrums and never has she had one to this level.  And I know that she was overly tired because we were out later than normal the night before.  But still.  I had to stick to my guns.  I couldn't give in and just act like nothing happened...or give empty threats...no matter how badly I wanted to.

Sometimes I Yell

I know that I shouldn't yell at my kids.  Every expert says that it's not effective and may damage my child's ego, sense of worth, yadda yadda yadda.  I agree with them, I do.  But sometimes...sometimes I yell.  I don't like it, I always feel bad after I do it, but sometimes it happens.  I'm human.  I'm not perfect. 

When does it happen?  Well, it usually is when I've asked them 564 four times to do something and they are still coloring or watching tv.  Or when they are arguing or back-talking about the most mundane things and have been for the last 3 minutes.  That's usually what my triggers are.  I hate it, but sometimes I yell.  It gets their attention but I know that it's not the best way I can do that.  But I also know that I don't always yell.  Most times, I get their attention in some other way and it works.  But sometimes...

Now, I don't know what you're thinking, but I bet a good bunch of you are nodding your heads, saying it sounds like your house.  I decided when I started this blog that I would be honest with my imperfections--especially when it comes to parenting.  All too often, people put on the "perfect facade."  "I don't yell at my kids."  "My kids always listen."  "I always have fresh baked cookies and milk waiting, with my hair perfectly done and a gourmet meal from scratch cooking on the spotlessly clean stove."  If you are that person in all honesty--kudos!  But I'm willing to say that 99.9% of us moms are NOT that mom.  We do what we can to get by.  Some days it's more than others.  But our ultimate goal is to love, nurture and protect our children.  So sometimes I yell, but most times I don't.  My kids still know that I love them and would do anything for them.  I just occasionally do that really loudly. 

Those Who Matter

I have been a mom for 10 years now.  Recently, our oldest daughter, Brainiac, celebrated her tenth birthday.  Our youngest daughter, Scrat, also recently celebrated a birthday.  We combined their "family and family friends" party into one and held it yesterday afternoon.  Everything went off just fine, but there were a few things that even just last year would have had me sweating bullets. What were they?

Nothing important.  Seriously, in the grand scheme of things these 2 or 3 imperfections were nothing important and yesterday, I took them as that.  But last year or 5 years ago, I would have been crying about them.  The difference?  I've honestly learned to live by the quote:

"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind, don't matter, and those who matter, don't mind."

Yesterday, I didn't say or feel anything in particular.  But the second part of the quote was in my mind as I raced to finish up the cleaning and the baking, and fretted that the frosting wasn't being cooperative on the darn beautiful butterfly cake.  See, we were gone all day Saturday at a family function and then had church yesterday morning, so I had about 3 hours between church and the party to finish everything up and bake a cake. 

"These people are our family and friends.  They will not care about the dog-nose prints still on the window, or that the floor was only swept, not mopped.  And if they do care...that's their problem."

I'm telling you, if you can honestly feel this and live it, it's absolutely freeing!  My stress about yesterday's party was so low, even with 30 people in my house, nose prints on the window and frosting that wasn't perfectly smooth.  We all had a great time and no one mentioned anything.  As a matter of fact, Scrat told me that the cake was "Perfect!  Mommy, it's so beufiful!" I think that's all I need.