I have probably been a feminist my entire life. At least as long as I can remember. My parents raised me to believe that my gender wasn't a disability nor should it prevent me from achieving whatever goal I set for myself---and of course, that my mind was just as capable of genius as a man. My Dad made sure Chrissy and I could bait a hook, shoot a gun, drive a stick shift, or change a tire. My Mom raised us to believe in self-reliance, self-sufficiency, and self-respect. From infancy, we were raised to believe that the gateway to all of our dreams was through an education. No one could take it away from us and no matter what, with an education, we wouldn't be forced to rely on anyone for help in life. There is no better confidence booster than knowing that you can provide for yourself.
Obviously, I want Maggie to know that she is entitled to all of the same rights and privileges as her brothers. I want her to demand equal pay for equal work, to never set her sights any lower than the very best in education and to know her value and her worth are defined by her own expectations, not those of others. I think it is very empowering for a girl to grow up with that attitude--the one that my parents so graciously helped to shape for me.
However, if I am doing my part for the empowerment of women, I will do my very best to teach my boys these important lessons. I want all of those those same things for them. But I also want them to believe that their sister and women like her are entitled to these same basic rights. It will make them better husbands and fathers, classmates, and maybe even bosses, one day.
If only life were as perfect as it is in my head! I really do tell the boys that girls can do the same things that they can do. I provide examples with those degrees and certifications hanging on the wall. And my ability (to Ian's amazement) to drive Josh's truck (which has a stick shift). I am not afraid of frogs or lizards (I proudly hang lizards on my ear lobes like my Uncle Lee always demonstrated when I was a child). Josh and I show it in our partnership marriage where we both care for the children, clean the house and contribute to the family income. However, I never really know if they get it.
Today I am driving with Will and his friend Madi. Will yells, "Volkswagen Yellow!" I say, "Yes, punch-bug Yellow! Good job Will" (Thanks April for resurrecting this timeless classic). Madi yells out "Punch-bug." Will responds, "You can't say that. I am the KING of punch-bug." (and he really is. The kid can point out a Volkswagen from miles away). So she counters, "Well if you are the King, then I am the princess." Will thinks about it for a minute and counters back, "No, Madi. You can be the King. Girls can do all the same things as boys so if I can be the King, you can too." Ahhh...melting heart moment for me.
I also know that growing up with a sister will reinforce so many of these lessons for the boys. She thinks that she can do all the same things that they do and because they love her so much, they are more than happy to let her tag along. And if ever a boy makes her doubt her self-worth, I am sure Will is more than happy to use these punch-bugging skills on that boy's face.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Alive, Getting Well, and Turning Gray...
The last week and a half has pretty much stunk.
Good News: The Burgess Bunch is still ALIVE!
Bad News: The entire Bunch has been sick with something EXCEPT Ian! I am convinced he is the carrier rat.
We have battled stomach bug, nasty colds and strep throat in our house for the last week. What a great way to usher in the school year. I hate sickness and germs. But sickness and germs apparently LOVE me and my house. We spent last November thru March constantly sick. I do not want a repeat of that cycle again this year. My kids are great at sharing, especially their germs. So I spent the entire weekend cloroxing, washing, and lysoling everything in our house. Maybe I can get the germs to leave. I sure hope so.
Our pediatrician (despite her less-than-stellar office staff) is so wonderful. We were her first patients on Saturday morning. She welcomed me with a hug and said, "I was afraid I would see you again this week." I practically live in her office. She gave us another script of antibiotics and told me to call her if Ian needed one too. So far, so good.
Antibiotics make Will bounce off the walls. Literally. The kid gets the jerks if you try to make him sit still. I kept him home from school today just to be sure he was better. He talked my ear off. He has also learned that sick=mommy feels sorry for me=all the ice cream and Popsicles he wants=even more hyper child. I felt like I had the jerks by the end of the day.
In other news, I noticed last night that my hair is now more gray than whatever is my natural color. I don't mention this because because of vanity. I mention it because of how shocking it was for me to notice. Josh changed the lighting in our bathroom and it made the gray far more obvious than the dimmer lighting we had before. Bring back the dims, please! My parents are both beyond white-headed (sorry I outed you Mom), so I knew it was going to happen. I just didn't know it would happen before my 30th birthday. I blame my kids.
And maybe I blame Ian's schoolwork.
2nd grade is hard. Far more difficult than I remember it being. The teacher sends home gobs of instructions and charts and graphs for me to record our reading, writing, math AND even more stuff for me to sign. I realize it isn't her fault. She has to deal with government accountability and slack parents who don't even look in their kids' backpacks. But all of these rules and charts and graphs give this perfectionist Momma heart palpitations. Seriously. I already went to visit the teacher on Thursday so that we could talk through all of it so that "we can ensure that Ian isn't getting overwhelmed." Insert Momma for Ian. I think I got a handle on it but it is a lot to keep up with. And it is all very time consuming.
I am sure it is for all parents. But for us, especially, because Ian has dyslexia, dysgraphia, and dyscalculia. Basically, he struggles in reading, writing and math. He is super smart and can remember just about everything, but I have to take the work she sends home for him and rework it in a way that works best for him to understand. This afternoon, we spent 3.5 hours doing homework. I try to make it fun; we play word games and do math drills with yummy treats but it requires a lot of me. And him.
And as if spending 3.5 hours of my afternoon doing math drills and word blends wasn't enough, Maggie pulled my laptop off of my desk and Will dropped my Droid into the bathtub...filled with water. My laptop seems OK, although the screen blinks occasionally. I am not sure I will be able to say the same for my phone.
Oh well, I can replace it. Just like I can pay to hide the gray in my hair. But I can't pay to get the moments back of "Uh Oh" when my laptop crashed to the floor, or Will's "Oh Man" when my phone went for a swim, or even the many hours I spend with Ian agonizing over reading, writing, and arithmetic. It was a bad week but along with the sniffles, I got a lot of snuggles, and "I love yous" and "You're the best Mom," as bribery for more ice cream. Believe me, as hard as it is to live sometimes, these really hard moments are some of the most rewarding of my journey in motherhood. And although I am not loving the gray hair part, if I have to have it in order to have these kids, it will be worth every trip to the salon.
Good News: The Burgess Bunch is still ALIVE!
Bad News: The entire Bunch has been sick with something EXCEPT Ian! I am convinced he is the carrier rat.
We have battled stomach bug, nasty colds and strep throat in our house for the last week. What a great way to usher in the school year. I hate sickness and germs. But sickness and germs apparently LOVE me and my house. We spent last November thru March constantly sick. I do not want a repeat of that cycle again this year. My kids are great at sharing, especially their germs. So I spent the entire weekend cloroxing, washing, and lysoling everything in our house. Maybe I can get the germs to leave. I sure hope so.
Our pediatrician (despite her less-than-stellar office staff) is so wonderful. We were her first patients on Saturday morning. She welcomed me with a hug and said, "I was afraid I would see you again this week." I practically live in her office. She gave us another script of antibiotics and told me to call her if Ian needed one too. So far, so good.
Antibiotics make Will bounce off the walls. Literally. The kid gets the jerks if you try to make him sit still. I kept him home from school today just to be sure he was better. He talked my ear off. He has also learned that sick=mommy feels sorry for me=all the ice cream and Popsicles he wants=even more hyper child. I felt like I had the jerks by the end of the day.
In other news, I noticed last night that my hair is now more gray than whatever is my natural color. I don't mention this because because of vanity. I mention it because of how shocking it was for me to notice. Josh changed the lighting in our bathroom and it made the gray far more obvious than the dimmer lighting we had before. Bring back the dims, please! My parents are both beyond white-headed (sorry I outed you Mom), so I knew it was going to happen. I just didn't know it would happen before my 30th birthday. I blame my kids.
And maybe I blame Ian's schoolwork.
2nd grade is hard. Far more difficult than I remember it being. The teacher sends home gobs of instructions and charts and graphs for me to record our reading, writing, math AND even more stuff for me to sign. I realize it isn't her fault. She has to deal with government accountability and slack parents who don't even look in their kids' backpacks. But all of these rules and charts and graphs give this perfectionist Momma heart palpitations. Seriously. I already went to visit the teacher on Thursday so that we could talk through all of it so that "we can ensure that Ian isn't getting overwhelmed." Insert Momma for Ian. I think I got a handle on it but it is a lot to keep up with. And it is all very time consuming.
I am sure it is for all parents. But for us, especially, because Ian has dyslexia, dysgraphia, and dyscalculia. Basically, he struggles in reading, writing and math. He is super smart and can remember just about everything, but I have to take the work she sends home for him and rework it in a way that works best for him to understand. This afternoon, we spent 3.5 hours doing homework. I try to make it fun; we play word games and do math drills with yummy treats but it requires a lot of me. And him.
And as if spending 3.5 hours of my afternoon doing math drills and word blends wasn't enough, Maggie pulled my laptop off of my desk and Will dropped my Droid into the bathtub...filled with water. My laptop seems OK, although the screen blinks occasionally. I am not sure I will be able to say the same for my phone.
Oh well, I can replace it. Just like I can pay to hide the gray in my hair. But I can't pay to get the moments back of "Uh Oh" when my laptop crashed to the floor, or Will's "Oh Man" when my phone went for a swim, or even the many hours I spend with Ian agonizing over reading, writing, and arithmetic. It was a bad week but along with the sniffles, I got a lot of snuggles, and "I love yous" and "You're the best Mom," as bribery for more ice cream. Believe me, as hard as it is to live sometimes, these really hard moments are some of the most rewarding of my journey in motherhood. And although I am not loving the gray hair part, if I have to have it in order to have these kids, it will be worth every trip to the salon.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Pediatrician Kind of Monday...
Last night, I got to spend the entire night watching BREAKING NEWS coverage of the chaos in Libya. Not just because I am a total, self-admitted news junkie. As if a weekend of Josh and I both being sick wasn't enough, we thought we would start this week sick too. Fun.
Maggie woke up around 11 last night screaming and yanking on her ear. Seeing as she is my 3rd child, I know this means ear infection. Despite Motrin, warm rags, etc., we didn't do much sleeping. So we watched the events unfold in Libya and counted down the minutes until we could call the Pediatrician's office at 8am.
Now to call the Pediatrician is an art form in and of itself. If you call at 7:59, you get the machine. Once you redial, you are like 15th in line to talk to a receptionist. Call at 8am, sometimes you get the machine and sometimes, you are lucky to be 4th or 5th. I have found with my substantial experience in the matter, it is best to call at 8:01. There is little risk of catching the machine and you usually end up higher than 5 but less than 10 in line to talk to the reception. Art form. Seriously.
So I dial at 8:01, Maggie is crying as I walk her around the house and get Will ready for school. The scary robot voice tells me that there are 5 callers ahead of me. Golden. 10 minutes pass and we finally get a human. Not bad. Nameless receptionist lady asks me if I can be there at 8:40. I ask back, 8:40? Yes, she answers, 8:40. I agree to take that appointment. Best to get it over with than listen to Maggie cry all morning. That gives me half an hour to get she and I ready, get Will down the street to Madi's house so he can carpool with them and get to the doctor's office on time. No problem.
Then I look in the mirror. Total hot mess. I can't go outside the confines of my car (I did drive Ian to school this morning. He never commented on my appearance. Maybe because he knew I wasn't getting out?) looking like this. So I tell Will to entertain Maggie for 3 minutes while I jump in the shower. All I heard was banging on the door and screams from her for me to hold her. She lived until I got out. She wouldn't let me blow dry my hair without holding her so I did the best I could. I threw on some clothes that actually matched, dressed her, grabbed bags and loaded everything (kids included) into the car. I had 7 minutes to get to the doctor. Went back in to grab my phone and purse, took a glance in the mirror. You guessed it. Still a hot mess. The only difference was my hair was still a little damp and I smelled better. Oh well.
Believe it or not, I made it to the Pediatrician with one minute to spare. We signed in, talked to the receptionist, and sat down in the sick area. We waited. We chatted with some people we knew. We waited. We read 2 books. We chatted with some more people we knew. We waited. People we talked with when we got there were leaving. 40 minutes into my wait, I went back to the receptionist lady to inform her I was still waiting. She asks our name. I give it. She informs me our appointment is at 9:30. Sleep deprived and without a single ounce of Diet Coke in my system, I felt the rage welling to my throat. I didn't yell but I was very loud. This is not the first or third time this has happened to me. It's more like the 5th. I love our doctor. I do not love the people who work in her office. I don't think they mean to screw up but they do. A lot.
My semi-hissy fit accomplished nothing but an apology. We waited until 9:30 to get called back. Maggie, luckily, was totally patient the entire time. If this had been Will, the story would have been much different.
After learning that Maggie weighed 29 pounds and I told the nurse the diagnosis. I looked down to notice that my shoes don't match my outfit. I didn't even care. We waited another 25 minutes to see our doctor. As unhappy as I was about the whole thing, it really didn't matter in the scheme of the amazing love and attention our doctor gives to our children. She apologized profusely for the entire thing but honestly, I can deal with her office staff because of the wonderful care we get from her. (She is the kind of Dr that calls you at night to check on your child after a visit to her office). Ear infection it is. Drops and antibiotic and she is doing fine.
It was a rough day but we survived. I even got to hear Will say prayers tonight. Instead of laughing, his tender words brought tears to my eyes. It was a prayer I needed to hear. It definitely cured my bad case of the Mondays!
Maggie woke up around 11 last night screaming and yanking on her ear. Seeing as she is my 3rd child, I know this means ear infection. Despite Motrin, warm rags, etc., we didn't do much sleeping. So we watched the events unfold in Libya and counted down the minutes until we could call the Pediatrician's office at 8am.
Now to call the Pediatrician is an art form in and of itself. If you call at 7:59, you get the machine. Once you redial, you are like 15th in line to talk to a receptionist. Call at 8am, sometimes you get the machine and sometimes, you are lucky to be 4th or 5th. I have found with my substantial experience in the matter, it is best to call at 8:01. There is little risk of catching the machine and you usually end up higher than 5 but less than 10 in line to talk to the reception. Art form. Seriously.
So I dial at 8:01, Maggie is crying as I walk her around the house and get Will ready for school. The scary robot voice tells me that there are 5 callers ahead of me. Golden. 10 minutes pass and we finally get a human. Not bad. Nameless receptionist lady asks me if I can be there at 8:40. I ask back, 8:40? Yes, she answers, 8:40. I agree to take that appointment. Best to get it over with than listen to Maggie cry all morning. That gives me half an hour to get she and I ready, get Will down the street to Madi's house so he can carpool with them and get to the doctor's office on time. No problem.
Then I look in the mirror. Total hot mess. I can't go outside the confines of my car (I did drive Ian to school this morning. He never commented on my appearance. Maybe because he knew I wasn't getting out?) looking like this. So I tell Will to entertain Maggie for 3 minutes while I jump in the shower. All I heard was banging on the door and screams from her for me to hold her. She lived until I got out. She wouldn't let me blow dry my hair without holding her so I did the best I could. I threw on some clothes that actually matched, dressed her, grabbed bags and loaded everything (kids included) into the car. I had 7 minutes to get to the doctor. Went back in to grab my phone and purse, took a glance in the mirror. You guessed it. Still a hot mess. The only difference was my hair was still a little damp and I smelled better. Oh well.
Believe it or not, I made it to the Pediatrician with one minute to spare. We signed in, talked to the receptionist, and sat down in the sick area. We waited. We chatted with some people we knew. We waited. We read 2 books. We chatted with some more people we knew. We waited. People we talked with when we got there were leaving. 40 minutes into my wait, I went back to the receptionist lady to inform her I was still waiting. She asks our name. I give it. She informs me our appointment is at 9:30. Sleep deprived and without a single ounce of Diet Coke in my system, I felt the rage welling to my throat. I didn't yell but I was very loud. This is not the first or third time this has happened to me. It's more like the 5th. I love our doctor. I do not love the people who work in her office. I don't think they mean to screw up but they do. A lot.
My semi-hissy fit accomplished nothing but an apology. We waited until 9:30 to get called back. Maggie, luckily, was totally patient the entire time. If this had been Will, the story would have been much different.
After learning that Maggie weighed 29 pounds and I told the nurse the diagnosis. I looked down to notice that my shoes don't match my outfit. I didn't even care. We waited another 25 minutes to see our doctor. As unhappy as I was about the whole thing, it really didn't matter in the scheme of the amazing love and attention our doctor gives to our children. She apologized profusely for the entire thing but honestly, I can deal with her office staff because of the wonderful care we get from her. (She is the kind of Dr that calls you at night to check on your child after a visit to her office). Ear infection it is. Drops and antibiotic and she is doing fine.
It was a rough day but we survived. I even got to hear Will say prayers tonight. Instead of laughing, his tender words brought tears to my eyes. It was a prayer I needed to hear. It definitely cured my bad case of the Mondays!
Friday, August 19, 2011
God Made TVs?
One of my favorite things about parenting is watching (and hearing) my children talk to God. Their innocence and honesty is amazing. So is their humor. My kids don't seem to hold back with God any more than they do with me. As Ian has pointed out to me before, "God sees more than you do, Mom. It's best to just get it out there." Yes He does. They talk to God about their day, their worries, the things they are grateful for, and the people in their lives. Sometimes, their talks with God enlighten me to fears I didn't know they had or comfort me in knowing that they understood the lesson I was trying to teach when they made a mistake. Sometimes, even with my best efforts, I can't help myself and laugh out loud at the things they tell God.
Will already knew his Bible verse from school this week (God Made Me. Psalms 139:14); at least the scripture itself. He didn't know the Psalms part. When I tried to get him to learn it, he said, " Mom, I don't need to learn that part. I can't read. Besides, why would I look it up in The Bible? I already know it." Pretty good logic.
As you know if you read this blog often, Will starts ALL prayers with God Made Me....So last night, he is saying his nightly prayer with us and he says, "God Made Me. Thank you for my family. God made Ian. God made Mags. God Made Mommy. God made Daddy. God made socks. God made shoes." At this point, I am biting my lip for fear that I am going to start laughing. With each thing that he said, I saw him stealing a look at me to see my reaction to his words. I was trying hard to hold it together. Josh was too. He continued, "God made pajamas. God made Maggie's diapers. God made wipes. God made couches." I could feel my face starting to crack. I sneak a peek at Josh and he has his face buried in his hands. He can barely hold it together. Will must have known we were about to lose it. He continues, "God made TVs" and there the giggles began. Josh, Ian and I all fall over in giggles. Will joins in. I realize this is completely inappropriate and not very mature of us. It is probably disrespectful too. But honestly, I think God was laughing too.
Shortly after, we got our acts together and continued on with prayers. It was all serious business from there. And during my prayer time, I thanked God for the humor that He has allowed in my life through these three precious souls. I don't think He had much to do with providing us with TVs but He had everything to do with the three most important creations in my life. I am grateful, humbled, and always chuckling because I get to be their Mom.
Will already knew his Bible verse from school this week (God Made Me. Psalms 139:14); at least the scripture itself. He didn't know the Psalms part. When I tried to get him to learn it, he said, " Mom, I don't need to learn that part. I can't read. Besides, why would I look it up in The Bible? I already know it." Pretty good logic.
As you know if you read this blog often, Will starts ALL prayers with God Made Me....So last night, he is saying his nightly prayer with us and he says, "God Made Me. Thank you for my family. God made Ian. God made Mags. God Made Mommy. God made Daddy. God made socks. God made shoes." At this point, I am biting my lip for fear that I am going to start laughing. With each thing that he said, I saw him stealing a look at me to see my reaction to his words. I was trying hard to hold it together. Josh was too. He continued, "God made pajamas. God made Maggie's diapers. God made wipes. God made couches." I could feel my face starting to crack. I sneak a peek at Josh and he has his face buried in his hands. He can barely hold it together. Will must have known we were about to lose it. He continues, "God made TVs" and there the giggles began. Josh, Ian and I all fall over in giggles. Will joins in. I realize this is completely inappropriate and not very mature of us. It is probably disrespectful too. But honestly, I think God was laughing too.
Shortly after, we got our acts together and continued on with prayers. It was all serious business from there. And during my prayer time, I thanked God for the humor that He has allowed in my life through these three precious souls. I don't think He had much to do with providing us with TVs but He had everything to do with the three most important creations in my life. I am grateful, humbled, and always chuckling because I get to be their Mom.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
3 Hours of Vacation...
It's a day I have been looking forward to all summer; marking off the calendar patiently with X's. Today was the first day that all 3 children were going to be in school for 3 hours of the day. Hooray!!! I worked really hard yesterday grading papers, cleaning and washing clothes so that I could relish this first day of independence.
I had it all planned out. I was going to drop the kids off, wander around Hobby Lobby, come home and go for a walk, do a little pleasure reading (I have a new book on the Progressive Era that I am dying to get into), and just relax. I felt like all of my hard work over the last few weeks reorganizing the house (and of course, spending the entire summer with the kids) made me deserving of 3 hours of vacation time.
But alas, my life never goes according to plan. Here we are 3 days into the school year and illness has already taken hold of my house. Yesterday afternoon, Josh came home violently ill with a stomach bug. I quickly quarantined him to our bedroom and Lysoled/Cloroxed the house down behind him. Afraid of spreading sickness, I didn't think Maggie should sleep in our room. Will volunteered to let her sleep with him. She was so excited to sleep in his big boy bed. She snuggled up right next to him and went to sleep. A few hours later, she kept waking up crying because she had a stuffy nose. She can't suck the pacifier with a stuffy nose so she was miserable. One day in the vicinity of other kids and she already had a runny nose. Fabulous!
After a while, Maggie came to bed with me. Josh spent the night in the bathroom (bless his heart). Between her struggle to breathe and Josh's sickness, I got very little sleep. When I got up this morning, I was trying to remain positive. On the bright side, none of the rest of us woke up with the stomach bug. Small victories.
Determined to at least enjoy some of my time, I reworked my schedule for the morning. I took the kids to school, made a trip to the grocery store to get Gatorade and soup for Josh, and then went to wander around Hobby Lobby. I nixed the walk and attempted to read. I was so tired, I didn't get 3 pages into the book before I was asleep on the couch. After a 20 minute power nap, I made me some brunch and washed some clothes. And my 3 hours were up.
Josh was feeling good enough this evening to keep an eye on the boys while I went for a 2 mile walk after Maggie went down for the night. Tomorrow, I am back to the grind and will have to Clorox the entire house. But for today, I am grateful for a few hours of time to myself. I don't do it enough. And I could get used to it---so much so, I already have next Thursday morning planned!
I had it all planned out. I was going to drop the kids off, wander around Hobby Lobby, come home and go for a walk, do a little pleasure reading (I have a new book on the Progressive Era that I am dying to get into), and just relax. I felt like all of my hard work over the last few weeks reorganizing the house (and of course, spending the entire summer with the kids) made me deserving of 3 hours of vacation time.
But alas, my life never goes according to plan. Here we are 3 days into the school year and illness has already taken hold of my house. Yesterday afternoon, Josh came home violently ill with a stomach bug. I quickly quarantined him to our bedroom and Lysoled/Cloroxed the house down behind him. Afraid of spreading sickness, I didn't think Maggie should sleep in our room. Will volunteered to let her sleep with him. She was so excited to sleep in his big boy bed. She snuggled up right next to him and went to sleep. A few hours later, she kept waking up crying because she had a stuffy nose. She can't suck the pacifier with a stuffy nose so she was miserable. One day in the vicinity of other kids and she already had a runny nose. Fabulous!
After a while, Maggie came to bed with me. Josh spent the night in the bathroom (bless his heart). Between her struggle to breathe and Josh's sickness, I got very little sleep. When I got up this morning, I was trying to remain positive. On the bright side, none of the rest of us woke up with the stomach bug. Small victories.
Determined to at least enjoy some of my time, I reworked my schedule for the morning. I took the kids to school, made a trip to the grocery store to get Gatorade and soup for Josh, and then went to wander around Hobby Lobby. I nixed the walk and attempted to read. I was so tired, I didn't get 3 pages into the book before I was asleep on the couch. After a 20 minute power nap, I made me some brunch and washed some clothes. And my 3 hours were up.
Josh was feeling good enough this evening to keep an eye on the boys while I went for a 2 mile walk after Maggie went down for the night. Tomorrow, I am back to the grind and will have to Clorox the entire house. But for today, I am grateful for a few hours of time to myself. I don't do it enough. And I could get used to it---so much so, I already have next Thursday morning planned!
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
School is Back...
It's the most wonderful time of the year. No, not Christmas. BACK TO SCHOOL!
I love being home with my children. We have so much fun, they entertain me, and I love getting to spend so much time with them. But, after three long short months together, I am ready for them to get back in school. And I will be honest, I was more ready for August 15th than my sister. (August 15th happens to also be the opening day for Deer Hunting in the Lowcountry of SC). We were prepared, we had our supplies and new clothes. We knew who our teachers were going to be. All the kids had to do was show up.
Bright and early yesterday morning, I woke Ian up and got him moving. He has to be at school at 7:30 (too early). He was excited to see his friends. I was a little nervous simply because Ian didn't go with me to Open House before school started because he was with my Parents. He didn't know where his classroom was and didn't really know his teacher. So, I suggested that I would go in with him and get him where he was supposed to be. Ian vetoed my plan: Mom, I don't need you to go in with me. Me: But Ian, you don't know where your classroom is. Ian: But Mom, I DO know where the 2nd grade classrooms are. All I have to do is go there and look on the doors. When I see "Mrs. Thompson" on the door, I will go inside because I will have found my classroom. I dropped the conversation for the moment. When we were almost to school, I resurrected it again. Me: Ian are you sure you don't want me to walk in with you? Ian: Mom, just drop me off in the circle. I've got this.So I did. I needed him to know I trusted his judgment and honored his independence. But it broke my heart a little lot. However, I didn't cry. I was trying to be strong for the other little ones in the car with me.
Now Will, he was a wild card about school. Last year, he went to preschool 3 days a week. He cried every time I dropped him off and almost the entire time that he was there from August until November 1st. It was awful. I kept sending him because everyone said it would get better. And it did, finally. Like a light switch, he went to school on November 1st and loved it. Never another tear. So this year, he asked me to send him every day. I signed him up for it but honestly, I wasn't crazy about him going every day (even for just 3 hours). But he wanted to do it, begged me to let him, and honestly, the activity is good for him. When Will is bored he writes on the walls and couch, dumps powder on the floor, jumps off of things and ends up in the ER. This seemed like a simpler plan.
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| Will and his teacher, Mrs. Kendra |
He was so excited to go to school yesterday. He picked out his own clothes, helped me pack his backpack, was up and ready long before usual. On the way to school, I asked him if he was sure he wanted to go to school every single day. Will: Yes. Me: Are you sure? Will: Mom, I'm a big boy now. You are just gonna have to accept that.
I did accept it. There were no tears from either of us yesterday. And when he got home, he assured me that going every day was the right plan for him. At least the house will benefit!
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| CHEESE! |
And then came Maggie. I didn't want to put her in any program this year. I stay home for a reason. But, the reality is that I am working two jobs and I often work late into the night so that it doesn't interfere with my care for the children. On top of that, Maggie doesn't ever play with kids her own age. And she never plays with little girls. When the boys are gone to school, she sits next to the window, waiting for them. She is bored. Will's school offers a Mom's Morning Out program. I decided it would be in both of our best interests for her to go two mornings a week. That way, I can work at the office one of those days, and the other day, I can do things that I never seem to have time for. You know, like go to the doctor or clean the house.
 |
| Playing as soon as we walked in! |
She seemed very eager to go to "Big Girl School" because every time we went into Will's classroom, she cried when we left. So I was hopeful that today, she would be just fine. And she was better than anything I could have hoped for. She walked right in, started playing and waved goodbye when I left. I then walked back down to Will's room to tell his teacher something and Will wanted to know all about how Maggie was doing. Will: Mom, how is Maggie? Is she crying for me? After reassuring him that she was fine (and his teacher offering to take him down to check on her in a little while), I left. I held it together until I got to the car. And then, the tears sobs came. I called my Mom and cried with her. Then my mother in law called to check on Maggie (and me). I cried some more. I finally pulled it together just in time to walk in to our Staff retreat at work. There were no calls for me to come get her. She was just fine. And eventually, I was too!
As much as I look forward to the start of school, it is hard to believe that another calendar page is turned in their lives. They are growing up so fast and I really wish that I could just press a pause button and keep them this little forever. But like Will says, I just have to get over it. I can't freeze them in time. So I just settle for the summers of fun and the celebration of school returning. Just 20 more years of this and Josh and I can celebrate a new phase in life: Empty Nest!
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| I just loved this one! Will was trying to get her to take a picture with him and she was screaming, "NO!" because she wanted the camera to be all on her! DIVA! |
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Reprogramming the Stinky Rotten
After over a week with my Mom and Dad, the boys have come home! I missed them! It is amazing how quiet the house can be without all of their bustle, noise, and fighting. Maggie missed the boys more than I did, I think. By Thursday, she was pining for them. On Friday, she spent most of the day looking out the window, anxiously awaiting my Aunt Sherry's car to pull in the drive-way. She was beyond ecstatic to see them.
Will wouldn't admit to me that he was ready to come home but I know he missed Maggie. After all, that is who he always wanted to talk to when I called to check on him. He would talk gibberish with her for several minutes and she would bubble over with even more gibberish. He seemed so grown up when he got back. Mom tells me that in his own mind, he became a man while at their house. He took to sleeping only in his underwear and even told my Dad there was only room for one man in the bed with my Mom and it wasn't him. Ouch. When my mom asked him what made him a man, he told her that men have hair on their chests. So she asked him where was his hair. He pointed to the peach fuzz and said, "I got a wittle bit wight here."
Great.
The hardest part of having them back is reprogramming them. It is obvious that they got to do whatever they wanted while at Hana and Poppa's house. And I know, it is the grandparent's complete right to endlessly spoil their grandchildren. My grandparents spoiled me too---I practically lived with them every weekend of my life until I left for college. But my kids came back stinky rotten. Will actually had the audacity to instruct me that I am not allowed to tell him what to do. He apparently has amnesia as to whom is in charge around here. When it normally takes me twice to get them to listen, now it takes around 10.
The people that they stayed with this past week must have amnesia too. Those people--my parents, now more commonly referred to as Hana and Poppa--are not the people that raised me and Chrissy. MY parents had rules and bed times and sugar-intake allowances. "Fun" wasn't really a word that my mother ever used when growing up. Oh but these people, the imposter's in my parents' body, oh these people have a lot of nerve. They took my kids to WalMart and let them buy whatever they wanted. The kids report that they went fishing and swimming and shopping. They got to "eat chicken nuggets like every day" and go to "Mexicans" and eat a whole entire carton of cookies in one sitting.
Fabulous.
Dad took them to the Serpentarium on Edisto and they got to hold a "real snake. A Boa." Poppa bought each of them a fake snake, which scared the begeezus out of me this morning when I pulled back the shower curtain and saw two very real-looking fake snakes curled up in the bottom of the bathtub. Can you say heart attack? Will was most excited to report to everyone that he got to shoot a gun for target practice. "A real one. A rifle. And it was awesome." Granted, it was mostly Ian doing the shooting (Will just pulled the trigger once) of the .22 but the point is to inform me that they got to do something they know I wouldn't let them do myself.
Duh.
From the looks and sounds of it, they had a blast. They came home with more trinkets and treasures than Christmas. These few days surely cost my parents a small fortune. But of course, it was the time that mattered. They have stories and memories that will last them a lifetime. That is what spending those untamed, unrehearsed, and unruly times with grandparents are all about. And believe me, I am grateful. Not just that my my parents are still here to spend time with them but that they get to learn lessons and make memories with the people that taught me everything I know about life. So even though Hana and Poppa aren't quite like the people that raised me, they managed to make the boys extremely happy over the last week. Knowing that makes the difficult task of reprogramming them a little bit more tolerable.
Will wouldn't admit to me that he was ready to come home but I know he missed Maggie. After all, that is who he always wanted to talk to when I called to check on him. He would talk gibberish with her for several minutes and she would bubble over with even more gibberish. He seemed so grown up when he got back. Mom tells me that in his own mind, he became a man while at their house. He took to sleeping only in his underwear and even told my Dad there was only room for one man in the bed with my Mom and it wasn't him. Ouch. When my mom asked him what made him a man, he told her that men have hair on their chests. So she asked him where was his hair. He pointed to the peach fuzz and said, "I got a wittle bit wight here."
Great.
The hardest part of having them back is reprogramming them. It is obvious that they got to do whatever they wanted while at Hana and Poppa's house. And I know, it is the grandparent's complete right to endlessly spoil their grandchildren. My grandparents spoiled me too---I practically lived with them every weekend of my life until I left for college. But my kids came back stinky rotten. Will actually had the audacity to instruct me that I am not allowed to tell him what to do. He apparently has amnesia as to whom is in charge around here. When it normally takes me twice to get them to listen, now it takes around 10.
The people that they stayed with this past week must have amnesia too. Those people--my parents, now more commonly referred to as Hana and Poppa--are not the people that raised me and Chrissy. MY parents had rules and bed times and sugar-intake allowances. "Fun" wasn't really a word that my mother ever used when growing up. Oh but these people, the imposter's in my parents' body, oh these people have a lot of nerve. They took my kids to WalMart and let them buy whatever they wanted. The kids report that they went fishing and swimming and shopping. They got to "eat chicken nuggets like every day" and go to "Mexicans" and eat a whole entire carton of cookies in one sitting.
Fabulous.
Dad took them to the Serpentarium on Edisto and they got to hold a "real snake. A Boa." Poppa bought each of them a fake snake, which scared the begeezus out of me this morning when I pulled back the shower curtain and saw two very real-looking fake snakes curled up in the bottom of the bathtub. Can you say heart attack? Will was most excited to report to everyone that he got to shoot a gun for target practice. "A real one. A rifle. And it was awesome." Granted, it was mostly Ian doing the shooting (Will just pulled the trigger once) of the .22 but the point is to inform me that they got to do something they know I wouldn't let them do myself.
Duh.
From the looks and sounds of it, they had a blast. They came home with more trinkets and treasures than Christmas. These few days surely cost my parents a small fortune. But of course, it was the time that mattered. They have stories and memories that will last them a lifetime. That is what spending those untamed, unrehearsed, and unruly times with grandparents are all about. And believe me, I am grateful. Not just that my my parents are still here to spend time with them but that they get to learn lessons and make memories with the people that taught me everything I know about life. So even though Hana and Poppa aren't quite like the people that raised me, they managed to make the boys extremely happy over the last week. Knowing that makes the difficult task of reprogramming them a little bit more tolerable.
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