This one is for all the stay-at-home moms I know...And I don't know how you do it.
A man came home from work and found his three children outside, still in their pajamas, playing in the mud with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn around the garden. The door of his wife's car was open, as was the front door to the house. There was no sign of the dog.
Walking in the door, he found an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over and the throw rug was against one wall. In the front room the TV was on loudly with the cartoon channel and the family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing. In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, the fridge door was open wide, dog food was all over the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door.
He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she might be ill, or that something serious had happened. He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the bathroom door. As he peered inside he found wet towels, scummy soap and more toys. Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste had been smeared over the mirror and walls.
As he rushed to the bedroom, he found his wife curled up in bed in her pajamas, reading a novel. She looked up at him, smiled and asked how his day went.
He looked at her bewildered and asked, 'What happened here today?'
She smiled and answered, 'You know every day when you come home from work you ask me what in the world do I do all day?
''Yes," was his incredulous reply.
She answered, 'Well, today I didn't do it.'
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Mr. Personality
Jackson has parent-teacher conferences at daycare. Chad thinks these are ridiculous ("Congratulations, your child is walking..." he says when I ask if he wants to attend another one), but I find them mildly helpful. Why? Because I can ask his teachers things I wouldn't bring up to a doctor that are burning a hole in my mind.
At our semi-annual conference this go-around, I heard all about how Jackson can turn pages of a book (yep), help take off his own shirt and pants (check), and understand a few words (uh-huh). He's doing absolutely everything a 16-month-old should be doing.
But here's what I was really wondering from a woman who spends her entire day with kids his age. Did Jackson have more of a temper than other children? Was he more demanding and feisty?
When I asked the question, there was a pause. Pausing during parent-teacher conferences means that the teacher is thinking about how to respond. And that's never a good sign. The teachers there are always direct and no-nonsense. Oh dear Lord...what was I going to hear?
After a moment, Miss Patti, who I just absolutely love and who treats Jackson like he is her own son, starts to speak very slowly, as if she's choosing her words carefully. Then she says the kindest thing I've ever heard:
"I think...well...I think maybe Jackson is just very smart. He was telling us when he was really young what he wants."
And then this sweet, mild-mannered Hispanic woman closes her eyes, points across the room, and replicates his I-want-this-right-now chant:
MAMAMAMAMAMA!
Yep, that's my boy.
This is a child with a very strong opinion, and I have no doubt that someday this assertiveness will be one of my favorite characteristics. It's bound to get him into trouble but I like to think that if we raise him the right way, this personality will help him make really good choices, too. Until that day, oy vey, it's exhausting. But in the moments lately where he has tested my patience, I think of Miss Patti's perspective, and it makes me smile.
He's not cantankerous, he's smart.
Bless you, dear woman, for giving me another viewpoint. Even if you only said it because you thought it would get me through the crazy days, thank you. You are worth every penny.
At our semi-annual conference this go-around, I heard all about how Jackson can turn pages of a book (yep), help take off his own shirt and pants (check), and understand a few words (uh-huh). He's doing absolutely everything a 16-month-old should be doing.
But here's what I was really wondering from a woman who spends her entire day with kids his age. Did Jackson have more of a temper than other children? Was he more demanding and feisty?
When I asked the question, there was a pause. Pausing during parent-teacher conferences means that the teacher is thinking about how to respond. And that's never a good sign. The teachers there are always direct and no-nonsense. Oh dear Lord...what was I going to hear?
After a moment, Miss Patti, who I just absolutely love and who treats Jackson like he is her own son, starts to speak very slowly, as if she's choosing her words carefully. Then she says the kindest thing I've ever heard:
"I think...well...I think maybe Jackson is just very smart. He was telling us when he was really young what he wants."
And then this sweet, mild-mannered Hispanic woman closes her eyes, points across the room, and replicates his I-want-this-right-now chant:
MAMAMAMAMAMA!
Yep, that's my boy.
This is a child with a very strong opinion, and I have no doubt that someday this assertiveness will be one of my favorite characteristics. It's bound to get him into trouble but I like to think that if we raise him the right way, this personality will help him make really good choices, too. Until that day, oy vey, it's exhausting. But in the moments lately where he has tested my patience, I think of Miss Patti's perspective, and it makes me smile.
He's not cantankerous, he's smart.
Bless you, dear woman, for giving me another viewpoint. Even if you only said it because you thought it would get me through the crazy days, thank you. You are worth every penny.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
My second child
Surprise! Earlier this year, I had another baby.
I'm only half-kidding.
Since January, we've been knee-deep in this video contest called "This is Retail," which is supposed to tell the stories of the people who work in our industry. Much like a child, this thing has taken YEARS off my life. I created it, I baked it for a little while, and then it came to life. And there is no putting that genie back in the bottle now, even though sometimes I wonder what in the hell I was thinking.
It's true that someone from Monmouth is in the running, which is a little town near where I grew up, but that's not who I'm rooting for to take home our $25,000 grand prize. (Galesburg people, please don't kill me.) I'm voting for this small businessman who does an incredible job showing how retail powers the economy.
I love this guy. I'd shop in his store if I was closer to it. And, umm, if I was a runner.
So my ask: Get your little self on www.retailmeansjobs.com/vote and vote for my buddy Jim through this Sunday (ten times per day per email address). I love this guy and his story. Of the 2,000 YouTube hits, I swear I've watched this video like 100 times.
I'd like to say it all ends here.
But as with having a child ... the first three months you don't even remember, the second three months are kind of a fog, and then it just continues to get better. Until after a year or so, you forget about all the sleepless nights and the nausea and the complete immersion into something bigger than you are and you're stupid enough to decide you might be willing to go through it all again. So stay tuned for more info on next year's contest once I get through this insanity.
I'm only half-kidding.
Since January, we've been knee-deep in this video contest called "This is Retail," which is supposed to tell the stories of the people who work in our industry. Much like a child, this thing has taken YEARS off my life. I created it, I baked it for a little while, and then it came to life. And there is no putting that genie back in the bottle now, even though sometimes I wonder what in the hell I was thinking.
It's true that someone from Monmouth is in the running, which is a little town near where I grew up, but that's not who I'm rooting for to take home our $25,000 grand prize. (Galesburg people, please don't kill me.) I'm voting for this small businessman who does an incredible job showing how retail powers the economy.
I love this guy. I'd shop in his store if I was closer to it. And, umm, if I was a runner.
So my ask: Get your little self on www.retailmeansjobs.com/vote and vote for my buddy Jim through this Sunday (ten times per day per email address). I love this guy and his story. Of the 2,000 YouTube hits, I swear I've watched this video like 100 times.
I'd like to say it all ends here.
But as with having a child ... the first three months you don't even remember, the second three months are kind of a fog, and then it just continues to get better. Until after a year or so, you forget about all the sleepless nights and the nausea and the complete immersion into something bigger than you are and you're stupid enough to decide you might be willing to go through it all again. So stay tuned for more info on next year's contest once I get through this insanity.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Totally tubular
Apparently nine ear infections in as many months is a sign that it's time for tubes. So a few weeks ago, we went to an ENT who confirmed that was our best course of action. In between scheduling the surgery and our "go" date, Jackson got another ear infection, which I took as a sign that we were making the right decision.
The surgery was this morning at 8 a.m. and we were back in recovery with him at 8:20. It took Jackson awhile to get back into sorts after the anesthesia but after a long morning nap he was back to his old self.
Since it was a beautiful day, we got to play outside a little this afternoon - and Jackson got to play with his Easter gift from his Grandma and Grandpa Davis. The little mower blows bubbles but I hadn't refilled it, though Jackson sure didn't care. When they say kids bounce back fast after surgery, they're not kidding!
The surgery was this morning at 8 a.m. and we were back in recovery with him at 8:20. It took Jackson awhile to get back into sorts after the anesthesia but after a long morning nap he was back to his old self.
Since it was a beautiful day, we got to play outside a little this afternoon - and Jackson got to play with his Easter gift from his Grandma and Grandpa Davis. The little mower blows bubbles but I hadn't refilled it, though Jackson sure didn't care. When they say kids bounce back fast after surgery, they're not kidding!
Sunday, March 25, 2012
We've got spirit, yes we do...
I'm reading a great book called The Happiest Toddler on the Block, a sequel to The Happiest Baby on the Block, which I buy for absolutely every expecting mom I know. The jury is still out on the toddler version, though if Dr. Karp can prevent meltdowns the way he claims then he's been worth every second of time I've spent reading.
In Chapter Two - and that's only as far as I've gotten so we haven't cured meltdowns yet - Karp talks about how children fall into three temperaments. Most are "easy," a few are "shy," and then a small portion are what he calls "spirited."
Parents usually know they have a spirited child because they're the 'more' kids. More active. More impatient. More impulsive. More defiant. More intense. More sensitive. More rigid. The No. 1 recommendation to parents with this toddler personality type: Keep them active. Get them outside to play -- a lot. These kids need to burn off their energy and work through their moods, experts say. They also need firm structure to keep them safe and stable -- and lots of patience.
Jackson sure sounds like a spirited sort, but since he's our first I can't be sure. Maybe all kids are like this, I thought. Dr. Karp suggests a test to determine your child's temperament:
Go to an uncrowded place, release your child's hand, and pretend to turn your back for two seconds. (Keep a close watch out of the corner of your eye.) What does she do? Stand there? (Easy.) Grab your coat and cry? (Shy.) Run away without looking back? (Spirited.) The answer will give you a pretty good reading of your child’s temperament.
Here are the pictures we took yesterday at the Cherry Blossom Festival after we let Jackson out of his stroller. Sense a pattern here?
In Chapter Two - and that's only as far as I've gotten so we haven't cured meltdowns yet - Karp talks about how children fall into three temperaments. Most are "easy," a few are "shy," and then a small portion are what he calls "spirited."
Parents usually know they have a spirited child because they're the 'more' kids. More active. More impatient. More impulsive. More defiant. More intense. More sensitive. More rigid. The No. 1 recommendation to parents with this toddler personality type: Keep them active. Get them outside to play -- a lot. These kids need to burn off their energy and work through their moods, experts say. They also need firm structure to keep them safe and stable -- and lots of patience.
Jackson sure sounds like a spirited sort, but since he's our first I can't be sure. Maybe all kids are like this, I thought. Dr. Karp suggests a test to determine your child's temperament:
Go to an uncrowded place, release your child's hand, and pretend to turn your back for two seconds. (Keep a close watch out of the corner of your eye.) What does she do? Stand there? (Easy.) Grab your coat and cry? (Shy.) Run away without looking back? (Spirited.) The answer will give you a pretty good reading of your child’s temperament.
Here are the pictures we took yesterday at the Cherry Blossom Festival after we let Jackson out of his stroller. Sense a pattern here?
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Food fight
I've mentioned before how there are just some things that I just don't understand now that I'm a parent. And there are some things that I understand exclusively because I'm a parent (ie: drive-thru pharmacies).
Jackson doesn't read books. At ALL. It's not that we don't try. In fact, every night at bedtime we pull out a book and read it, but all he wants to do is open and close the pages. Finally, we've identified a book that Jackson seems to like: The Very Hungry Caterpillar. The little holes in the middle of the pages distract him long enough for me to read each page.
But as I was reading Jackson his bedtime story tonight, in between this incessant opening and closing of pages, I had one of those perplexing parent moments. What the heck kind of lesson is this book for a kid?
Let me sum this story up for you: A little bug wakes up, is hungry, eats for seven days including absolute JUNK on the sixth day, is so full he wants to pop, goes to sleep, and wakes up beautiful.
Uh-huh...If it was that easy I'd weigh ten pounds less.
Has anyone ever considered that there's an obesity problem in this country because too many kids read this book when they were little?
Jackson doesn't read books. At ALL. It's not that we don't try. In fact, every night at bedtime we pull out a book and read it, but all he wants to do is open and close the pages. Finally, we've identified a book that Jackson seems to like: The Very Hungry Caterpillar. The little holes in the middle of the pages distract him long enough for me to read each page.
But as I was reading Jackson his bedtime story tonight, in between this incessant opening and closing of pages, I had one of those perplexing parent moments. What the heck kind of lesson is this book for a kid?
Let me sum this story up for you: A little bug wakes up, is hungry, eats for seven days including absolute JUNK on the sixth day, is so full he wants to pop, goes to sleep, and wakes up beautiful.
Uh-huh...If it was that easy I'd weigh ten pounds less.
Has anyone ever considered that there's an obesity problem in this country because too many kids read this book when they were little?
Monday, March 19, 2012
Then they do
Ok, I admit it. I am not a "stop and smell the roses" kind of person. I try. And for a few fleeting moments every now and then I do stop to take a quick break to soak in absolutely everything that's amazing with my life. But for the most part, it's run run run.
On the weekends, I wish for 15 more minutes of sleep when Jackson wakes up. Then it's time for breakfast. Then constant entertainment until lunchtime. Then lunch. Then he naps, and I scurry around to get dishes, vacuuming, laundry, yard work, and anything else done during those sacred two hours. (Who are these people who read books during nap time and why am I not organized enough to ever be able to do that?!?)
Yesterday, while I was hustling around during Jackson's midday snooze, I straightened up our room, folded two loads of laundry, made and ate lunch, cleaned up the kitchen, washed the dishes, and then decided to get a head start on dinner while Chad was out working in the yard.
I threw some music on and was buzzing around with a sort of efficiency that only belongs to the parent of a toddler. I was halfway through a song before I stopped to listen to it.
Now you've got time that's all your own, you've been waiting for so long for this day to come...Then they do.
Ah, Trace Adkins. I hadn't listened to this song since before Jackson was born. A song about a parent who is constantly wishing for their kids to grow up...and it happens in the blink of an eye.
Oh crap, I realized. Someday - probably someday really really soon - I'm going to realize that my little guy is totally self-sufficient and I'd give absolutely anything to have some of these days back.
Secretly, I sometimes wish for teenagers. Or grown-up kids. At this rate, I'd even take the elementary school ones I could toss outside on a nice day with a "don't come in 'til dinnertime" charge. I would give anything to sleep in, or read a magazine while my kids played, or get any iota of housework done without one eye constantly planted on my child who has no fear of anything. Parenting something this mobile is completely exhausting.
But on the flip side, someday I know the ear-to-ear grin I get just for walking in a room will disappear. And little things like riding in a wagon or singing the "Itsy Bitsy Spider" won't elicit shrieks of excitement. Instead, someday - probably sooner than I'd like - I'll get a hurried wave out the door and maybe an obligatory hug before heading out for an afternoon of who-knows-what. I'll have time then to cook dinner and read books and nap. I'll have time for me.
I'm sure I'll love that life, too. But I'm sure I'll look back at these unpredictable, crazy days fondly, and wish for them every now and then. So during these times when it feels like we're on a treadmill from 8 a.m. until 8 p.m., I tuck a few special moments away in my memory for those days I'll actually be able to sit and think about the way it used to be.
I just hope I don't lose my mind between now and then.
On the weekends, I wish for 15 more minutes of sleep when Jackson wakes up. Then it's time for breakfast. Then constant entertainment until lunchtime. Then lunch. Then he naps, and I scurry around to get dishes, vacuuming, laundry, yard work, and anything else done during those sacred two hours. (Who are these people who read books during nap time and why am I not organized enough to ever be able to do that?!?)
Yesterday, while I was hustling around during Jackson's midday snooze, I straightened up our room, folded two loads of laundry, made and ate lunch, cleaned up the kitchen, washed the dishes, and then decided to get a head start on dinner while Chad was out working in the yard.
I threw some music on and was buzzing around with a sort of efficiency that only belongs to the parent of a toddler. I was halfway through a song before I stopped to listen to it.
Now you've got time that's all your own, you've been waiting for so long for this day to come...Then they do.
Ah, Trace Adkins. I hadn't listened to this song since before Jackson was born. A song about a parent who is constantly wishing for their kids to grow up...and it happens in the blink of an eye.
Oh crap, I realized. Someday - probably someday really really soon - I'm going to realize that my little guy is totally self-sufficient and I'd give absolutely anything to have some of these days back.
Secretly, I sometimes wish for teenagers. Or grown-up kids. At this rate, I'd even take the elementary school ones I could toss outside on a nice day with a "don't come in 'til dinnertime" charge. I would give anything to sleep in, or read a magazine while my kids played, or get any iota of housework done without one eye constantly planted on my child who has no fear of anything. Parenting something this mobile is completely exhausting.
But on the flip side, someday I know the ear-to-ear grin I get just for walking in a room will disappear. And little things like riding in a wagon or singing the "Itsy Bitsy Spider" won't elicit shrieks of excitement. Instead, someday - probably sooner than I'd like - I'll get a hurried wave out the door and maybe an obligatory hug before heading out for an afternoon of who-knows-what. I'll have time then to cook dinner and read books and nap. I'll have time for me.
I'm sure I'll love that life, too. But I'm sure I'll look back at these unpredictable, crazy days fondly, and wish for them every now and then. So during these times when it feels like we're on a treadmill from 8 a.m. until 8 p.m., I tuck a few special moments away in my memory for those days I'll actually be able to sit and think about the way it used to be.
I just hope I don't lose my mind between now and then.
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