Why can’t they just get along?!

Growing up in a small family sometimes makes it hard to understand my two rambunctious red-heads.  I didn’t have any brothers or sisters to fight with.  I did have the pleasure of growing up in a small town with lots of kids, so there was always a playmate.  But being naturally non-confrontational, I simply have a hard time with the fighting in my house. 

This weekend was what I would call an ‘outdoorsy weekend’.  Saturday was a nice warm sunny day, unlike the recent rash of wet weather that has been haunting the region.  After an unusually late night (Irish dance recital) we actually managed to drag ourselves out to the other dance classes Saturday morning.  Being kids with unlimited amounts of energy, (oh, why can’t they share?) they wanted to wash the car in the afternoon.  Soooo, out came the buckets, cloths and hose.  We spend a pleasurable afternoon involved in this and that, and even had a picnic with the dolls on the front lawn.  Well, my 6-year old and I did.  In the evening we went to the library and got dinner since I did not have unlimited amounts of energy.  Not too shabby for a Saturday.

Sunday dawned with the makings of another pretty day.  I let the kids sleep until about 20 minutes until church and then we did the usual race to the car.  After letting them stuff themselves silly afterward, (it was the annual sunday school picnic)  we went to meet a friend and spend the day at a botanical garden.  It’s really a beautiful place and there is tons of room for kids to run around.  Not to mention a great ‘Children’s Garden’ with fountains and other things for kids to get into.  You would think it could be a peaceful day.  It would have been in my family most likely.  Not in any with more than one kid.  I’ve learned that nothing is simple with two (or more)  They fought for a majority of the way there, and then fought for a large part of the way back.  To the extent that I pulled the car over twice.

Apparently that was just a warm up.  The second they got home the other night, They were on the floor wrestling each other.  I asked what the fight was about later, after they had cooled off in their rooms, and they couldn’t remember.  This aggression takes me aback sometimes.  Not only am I getting used to the increased attitude from firstborn, but the fighting makes me wonder if they are rehearsing for an Off-Broadway production of The Hunger Games.

Logically I know that the fighting is their wayto deal with conflict and that they will learn from it.  And also I know that the half of the time they aren’t fighting, they are generally close, until the bossiness sets in.  I keep reminding myself that one day my house will seem too quiet and I won’t be able to tip toe into their rooms when all is peaceful and tuck their blankets in.  Hence I wait out the fights with gritted teeth and plans to buy a megaphone.

Kids, Kids, Kids

At my company we have a social network.  It’s kind of useful. At times definitely amusing.  Like the time we all made up stories about velociraptors and Chuck Norris.  (Sometimes in accounting you have to make your day a little more interesting.)  For the most part, the site is used for professional reasons.  No, really it is. 

Today I  saw a poll come in requesting information for popular pastimes among the K-3rd grade set.  That was from the educational part of the company.  Of course I scrambled for my keyboard.  In about 30 seconds so had another 3 mothers apparently.  That got me to thinking, why is it so interesting to talk about our kids?  I could tell stories about them for hours, and I am sure anyone else who has a child, or a pet for that matter, probably could too.  My mother spends at least 10 minutes out of a phone conversation discussing her cats.  Which is fine by me, I love listening! 

Motherhood is amazing.  (I am sure fatherhood is as well, but, not being a man, I can’t compare.)  It can turn a young woman without a maternal bone in her body into a gushing, babytalking mom with a perpetual worry line.  And that can be me.  I long to talk to the other mothers I work with, hear all about their kids and compare funny stories or vent about pre-teen attitudes.  I used to have a coworker who sat at the desk next to me, thankfully she had three young grandchildren of similar ages to my kids, and we would go on for hours.  I’m sure everyone in the vicinity was bored to tears. 

It’s a phenomenon similar to what seems to happen when groups of men get together.  They don’t even know each other and yet they become life long buddies in a matter of minutes over the ball game  (doesn’t matter, pick any sport)  Moms can pick each other out, and not just because of the dark circles under their eyes.  We finally have a common ground and it feels good.  Maybe that’s why it’s so enjoyable to swap stories. 

Sometimes it’s not really much of a story, just a funny saying, like when my daughter said she wanted to tell Jesus he had nice hair.  Or when she told my oldest and I that her boyfriend was Abraham Lincoln.  (She isn’t going to live that one down any time soon.)

What funny stories about your little rug rats keep you smiling throughout the day?  Do family members scramble to get out of your way when you enter a room in fear of your anecdotes?  I’m sure mine do!

Space Invaders! No…the OTHER kind

It happens gradually.  So slowly that you don’t realize it before it’s too late.  One day you are sitting on your couch, in a nice bright clean living room, and the next moment, it seems, you are surrounded by tiny beads, thousands of crayons, and lots of shoes.  What happened, you wail?  No one answers though.  It’s those small offshoots of your genetic make up. 

It’s really hard to keep your own space separate from that of your kids.  It starts off OK, at the beginning of the week, especially if you are blessed with any time to yourself.  By mid week, the shoes have somehow cloned themselves, and are slowly making a tactical advance down the hall.  Do they have special forces training?  I think so at times.  Trying to beat back the onslaught of arts and crafts, books and dolls is virtually impossible at times.   It makes things even harder when you spy a page from a parenting or design magazine where all of the children’s toys are neatly stowed in bins or colored shelves (remember that’s not real life).  Take heart though, it will get better. 

This is what I was thinking to myself as I surveyed my livingroom over the course of the week.  Monday and Tuesday it didn’t look so bad.  By Thursday there were stray socks, (oh don’t get me going on socks!) several pens that the cat had stolen and a few barbies artistically arranged on the floor by my 6-year old.  Now it’s friday and although I have visions of my house now being filled to the top with multiplying toys, I think I can manage them.  And it has gotten better, despite the sock issue.  As the munchkins in my house grow, the toys become smaller, except for the crafts.  Soon they will all be tiny electronic devices and books.  (I really don’t mind the books since I am somewhat of a hoarder of books as well.)

Now if only I can get to my first born’s room……. That’s a saga all of its own.

My mom

I am sure that there will be about a billion and two posts about moms and Mother’s Day this weekend, so I know I am not unique, but, being new to the blog scene, I think it’s a really great opportunity to share some of my best memories of my mom.  These are some of the things she has done to make her, well, herself.  Actually there are so many things Icould write about, but these are just a few that really kind of give me a warm glow, and make me realize how much she did for me, and never asked for anything in return. 

When I was a kid, I was in a pretty bad car accident and spent a lot of time in the hospital and then recuperating at home.  When I first came home, I guess I was around 5.  For a while I had trouble walking and used to stay on the living room couch.  I don’t really remember that much about the time.  It was a long time ago, after all.  However, I do remember with great fondness that she would make me sandwiches for lunch and always cut up some carrot sticks or pickles and lay them on top of the sandwich.  Sometimes she cut the sandwich into small squares or triangles to make it interesting.  It really showed how much she strove to make my day fun and happy, even though I am sure that she was stressed and worried about my health, and about her own personal life and that of my father.

Another memory I have which is really a good one, is that when I was in junior high school and high school, we would take a ‘mental health day’ as she called it.  Once a year, towards the end of course, she would call me out sick from school and take me to the beach, or exploring somewhere fun.  It would be just the two of us.  Since I had no siblings, this probably was not as hugely momentous as if I was in a family of five, but again it helped us to keep our bond, which has never broken, despite the inevitable teenage bickering and the hectic lives that we now lead.

The last one I am going to share is just a very simple one, but I think about it often, especially when sick.  I was in my twenties and I had the good fortune to be living fairly close to my parents, about 15 minutes.  In fact I have not lived that close since.  I had a cold, or maybe sinus infection, and was feeling pretty lousy.  My mom stopped at the local diner on her way home, which made incredible matzoh ball soup, and picked me up a container and brought it to my apartment, not far but not really on her way home.  I have always maintained that chicken broth makes me feel better, and its the one main thing I do for a cold.  I know that just the act of my mother bringing a carton of soup to me was what really made me recover.  She took care of me, and that was what really mattered. 

People always say that you really don’t begin to grasp what a mother does until you have children of your own.  I think in part it’s true.  But if you love someone so much that you’re willing to do almost anything to help them and protect them, than you get the idea, even if you have no children.   Now that I have two of my own, both of whom are always moving in opposite directions, I really appreciate how much my mother gave to me and helped prepare me to be an independent woman.   I only hope that when my daughters are my age they will be able to look back on their childhood with such fond memories.  No flowers, candy, or even  reciprocating saw (which my mom got one year) can ever say how much is in my heart when I think of my mom.  Happy Mother’s day to all of us moms.  Especially mine. I love you, mom.

cooking for critics

I actually used to like to cook.  Sometimes I still do.  When I’m alone.  Or maybe with someone who will eat my food.  I’m sure almost every parent can understand this.  Every night, well every night that isn’t a leftover night, I come home with the little pork chops (no they don’t like pork) and look in the fridge which hopefully holds something I have already taken out to defrost.  That happens 3 days a week  On the other days when it’s not leftover night or new dinner night, its chicken nuggets or spaghetti.  The kids are sick of spaghetti.  For the most part they will eat chicken.  So that’s what we have.  At least 4 to 5 days out of the week.  or 6.  So I make the chicken, then I make something starchy.  Then some kind of vegetable and always apples.  One kid eats the starch first and then the chicken.  Then she will eat either apple slices or applesauce after some vague threats from me.  Those are the ‘two’ fruits she will eat.  The other kid demolishes the veggies and usually a fruit.  I wheedle with her to eat some chicken and generally don’t even try the starch, unless its perogies, and who doesn’t like perogies.  On weekends I’ll bake a chicken and we have it for a few nights.  on the rare night we have cheese quesidillas or maybe a hot dog. even home made pizza when I’m not exhausted.  Meatballs and hamburgers are still an iffy situation for the youngest. 

After reading about my picky eaters, I am sure there are those superior parents out there reading this with a sad smile who get their kids to eat grilled vegetable kabobs or salad with feta or some nutritious thing simply by telling them too, but I have a suspicious feeling those parents are robots (no offense).  I love to eat.  I will eat almost anything, and try almost anything.   To have kids who hate their food touching on the plate and turn their noses up at stew when I was wolfing down lima beans and eating sushi at age 4 is just plain irritating.  When I thought about making dinners for my own children far in the future,  I had blissful visions of yummy dinners on the table and everyone digging in.  OK I didn’t actually think about that part of parenthood much but if I had I’m sure I would have had visions like that.  I never imagined myself to be the mother of two such different and finicky eaters.

I am still trying to bridge the gap between these two redheaded appendages who live in my house and make me cook boring foods and my desire for more exciting dinners.  After recently finding something with traces of veggies that my oldest likes, I am almost jumping for joy.  But until the day when they actually eat a dinner that doesn’t consist of applesauce, chicken or hot dogs, I am hanging my head in the shame of not being the culinary whiz I hoped to be.  Not even a robot.

Birthday Week

Finally, the long-awaited week (day) is here.  My youngest is turning 6.  After months of asking when it was and how much longer it will be, it’s finally here.  The eve of her birthday.  She is very concerned about the state of her birthday treat (chocolate chip muffins for her class) and how many friends are coming to her birthday party on Saturday.   For me, I can hardly believe she is six years old.  She is such a little munchkin still, and so snuggly.  But on the other hand, I can scarcely imagine not knowing her and find myself wondering how she can only be six, when I feel as though she has been here my whole life.  I say birthday week, because as we all know, for kids, their life centers around this milestone, weeks of counting down turn into weeks of telling their parents how much older they are.  For adults, it’s a day, in which hopefully nothing catastrophic happens, like tripping over your own foot in the middle of a crowded room, or dropping the birthday cake.  (No, neither of those things have happened to me, amazingly)  Personally I would prefer to stay in bed with the covers over me for the entire day.  But, for my little one, not so little anymore really, it is all about her.  Today involved buying cake pans and muffin tins since I couldn’t find mine.  Now that I have the muffins in the oven, I remember that the old muffin tin rusted away and that the old cake pans were on loan to a friend.  Tomorrow is the official birthday dinner.  I always take the kids to the restaurant of their choice on the actual birthday.   Thursday, hopefully, I will know how many little friends will be attending her party and can pick up decorations and party favors.  Friday will be the making of the cake, an endeavor which is fraught with a little anxiety, being the first time I am using fondant.  Sometimes I wonder why I get so swept up in the details.  Saturday will be the last, the finale and the most tiring day of all.  Knowing my daughter however, it will be as fun as can be because she is essentially a happy kid.  It’s a tiring and slightly more stressful week than usual, but all in all it’s well worth the smiles and hugs.  Then I have a month or two respite, so that I can gear up for my older daughter’s MUCH more detail oriented birthday…..

My car is a prime example of emergency preparedness

I was chatting with my mother the other day and mentioned that I was having a hard time coming up with subjects to write about.  Having just driven my car to the service station, she immediately suggested that I make a list of everything that could be found in the back seat of my car.  This is probably a pretty lengthy list.  Keeping in mind that I spend two hours a day in the car during the week, and have two children, I really don’t think it’s unreasonably messy.  In fact, I am sure that there are many things which would help out in an emergency. 

Most people have the foresight to include a flashlight, perhaps an emergency kit, and usually jumper cables in their car.  This is very sensible and I have all of these, plus a blanket and extra sweater in the trunk just in case.  However, there are other things you might need if you broke down, or just had to endure a very long car trip with squabbling kids in the back.  Up until two weeks ago I had a few board games.  Not those handy little travel games either.  I had the full size versions of them.  Imagine you are stuck in the middle of the pine barrens, naturally you want to keep your kids and yourself entertained until the tow truck comes.  What’s better than settling down to a game of Clue while you wait.  Nothing takes kid’s minds off of their troubles like a board game.  As long as it isn’t too long or they may start using the game pieces as baseballs.  Also it is always good to have a few odd socks in the backseat.  Not only would they be handy in cases of extremely cold feet, but as gloves in a pinch.  Extra shoes are also useful, even if they are a bit tight, they come in handy.  Another thing to include in your car survival kit are books, some paper, and crayons, also markers.  Although be sure to use washable markers, unless your car is in need of some decoration.  It’s a good idea to have food, in case someone gets hungry along the journey.  Those half empty water bottles on the floor look really good after an hour with no air conditioning.  Any amount of crumbs and squashed packets of Goldfish can be found by an enterprising child.  Unfortunately for the extra hungry passenger in my car, I did throw away the stale crusts of peanut butter toast that my youngest flung on the floor one mad tempered morning.  Last but certainly not least, it’s a good idea to have a quantity of hair bands in the car for those fashion emergencies.  After all nothing says fashion faux pas like wind-blown hair.

After rereading the list of back seat treasures.  I am more convinced than ever that my car is a heaven for any seasoned traveller.

Spring Birds

This has not been a cold winter.  In fact, I recently heard that it was one of 4 warmest on record.  I think we ‘ve gotten about 3 inches of snow in total.  Be that as it may, I still dislike winter.  Since I am one of those people who get cold at 75 degrees, I spend most of winter trailing around in thick fleece and have a blanket on the couch at all times.  The other day as I left the house in the morning, I noticed the birds. Being so warm, we have already all seen the extra early blooming flowers, and that was to be expected with such a winter.  But there is something about hearing birdsong in the morning, that makes my spirits rise, no matter what temperature.    It’s a mental boost, putting me in mind of  warm sunny days, the smell of grass and flowers.  It always gives me extra energy too, although thinking about what I need to do quickly uses up the energy.  I don’t think the kids have noticed yet.  I called their attention to all of the lovely birds that were singing, but they looked at me with the kind of pity reserved for moms who have gone off the deep end.  Still being young, they actually like winter, and don’t even mind the cold, so they don’t quite see why I am so excited about spring.  With literally days left in the official winter season, I feel like a kid on Christmas.  One thing I have missed, and no, not the ice and snow, that extra appreciation that comes with a cold winter.  When we start seeing those blue skies and feel the actual warmth of the sun for the first time, it’s like no other feeling.  I appreciate all of those things this year as well, but just not quite as much.  It probably was colder in the beginning of March than all of February.   Now that it is half way through March,  it really is beginning to show signs of the spring season.   The birds certainly are putting their best effort into spring this year and my kids are finally noticing.  And that I do appreciate.

5 easy ways to improve the busy mom’s morning routine

I have read many advice columns and lists aimed at helping the busy working mom in her morning routine.  Most of these are just plain impractical.  They include words like, blow-dry, make-up, glowing complexion.  Let’s face it, at 5.30 in the morning, who is thinking about their complexion, much less wanting it to glow.   I am sure  that if I’m a bit skeptical about these advice columns, then I’m not the only one.  So I’ve compiled a list of 5 helpful hints, which are a bit more realistic, to ease the morning rush. 

1. Always set your alarm 10 minutes early.  That way you can press the snooze at least twice and not have to jump out of bed with the realization that you have cut into valuable shower napping time.

2. Showering with your coffee in hand saves time.  Especially if you have managed to throw your alarm across the room after the second snooze and fallen back to sleep.  If you drink tea, the hot shower really helps it get a nice strong brew.  Try not to spill it when you fall asleep leaning against the shower wall.

3.  Make sure you have plenty of time to get that polished professional hair style.  Nothing says you are ready to climb the corporate ladder like a  pony-tail with your daughter’s spangled pink hair band which you found under the bathroom vanity.

4. Who needs matching socks?  Searching that cluttered sock drawer wastes valuable minutes you could use to try dissuading your child not to wear the neon purple shirt and polka-dotted orange skirt together. 

5. Finally, my last word of advice for you masters of time management.  The busy mom should always dress to impress.  Monochromatic outfits ensure that you can easily dress with your eyes still closed.  This is a must for those who did spill their coffee in the shower and have not yet had their morning shot of caffeine.

Now you are ready for a stress free day.